#knives out fanfiction
hi, sher! for the rivetra prompt (i promise this is not nsfw okay):
petra and levi cleaning an old room together and accidentally locking themselves inside 😚
hi Anya!! i am so sorry took so long but here you go! 💖✨This is set at that old castle in Wall Rose after Trost was invaded! 👀
Word Count: 993
* * *
The sound of the door slamming shut echo around the room, and Petra jerks at her spot. The rags in her hand slap limply against the grimy windows, and she turns, blinking rapidly.
“What the fuck?”
Captain Levi is glowering furiously at the door as he jams his knee agitatedly against the wooden boards. “This damn door is stuck.”
Petra tugs the kerchief down from her face. “Did you try the handle?”
Her captain throws her one of his filthiest glares. He curls his lip. “Yes, Ral. Of course, I tried the fucking handle.”
“Well, let me try,” she offers. “Maybe it needs a gentler touch.”
She ignores the scoffs her captain gives.
Dumping the sodden rags into the pail at her side, she makes her way across the room, sidestepping debris and rotten furniture to where her captain is waiting impatiently.
She tugs at the bronze knob and jiggles it. When that doesn’t work, Petra pushes the full force of her weight against the heavy oak panels and twists the handle frantically.
The door still doesn’t budge.
“Yes, oh,” Captain Levi snaps and crosses his arms.
“We could wait?” Petra offers and pushes a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Or we could yell for help?”
“The windows face the forest. There’s no one out there for miles.” Captain Levi huffs and rolls his eyes heavenwards. “Trust Erwin to order us out to the middle of nowhere in this shitty-ass dump.”
Petra tries. She really does. But she isn’t able to stop the giggle from leaving her throat.
There is something utterly amusing to see her captain raving and ranting about the state of the dilapidated castle with his cleaning uniform on (that comprises his headscarf and kerchief around the lower portion of his face) and a feather duster in his hand.
His eyes shift, and he gives her a hard look. “I told you not to call me that.”
“What?” Petra grins. “Do you mean ‘sir’?”
“You know what I mean, Ral. Stop fucking around.”
She laughs, not missing the slight softening in his gaze or the way the tension bleeds from his form.
Petra beams and moves up to adjust the skewed corners of his cravat. Her fingers smooth out the pristine white fabric with familiarity borne out of habit. “Well, at least you got stuck in a room with me and not someone like Oruo.”
Levi grunts. “I’ll push him out of the window if that happened.”
She snickers under her breath, enjoying the way his neck turns a dull shade of red when the tips of her fingers skim along the skin above his collar. With her task done, she moves on, trailing along the buttoned seams of his dress shirt, delighting in the way his chest heaves as his breathing stutters.
“Earlier, I heard what you said to Eren.”
Petra pauses. She looks up. Meeting Levi’s hooded grey eyes that are boring down at her with an intensity that makes her cheeks flush, she shuffles her feet. “What about it?”
He quirks a brow. “If you said anymore, that kid is gonna put two and two together.”
“No, he won’t,” she argues lightly and allows Levi to rest a cautionary palm on her hip.
It has been months, and Levi is still hesitant to show his affections with casual touches and murmured verbal assurances. Petra is okay with that. She knows the man isn’t comfortable with such displays, and she loves him for trying.
“Oi, Petra, I mean it. It’s just a while longer,” he says gruffly into her ear, sliding the tip of his nose against her hair, breathing her in.
It isn’t often that they get times like this to be alone—to be together. Petra treasures them all the more for it. Closing her eyes, she presses closer, savouring this small intimate moment that they share.
Like the rest, she tucks the memory of him—of being in his embrace, of the clean, sharp masculine smell of him in her senses, of the way his heart beats rhythmically beneath his ribs, and how loved and happy and she feels—right into the depths of her soul.
“I know,” Petra sighs and pulls away.
She looks up and smiles softly, memorising the unguarded way he looks down at her. Captain Levi of the Scout Regiments might be a fearsome and awed soldier, but he is just a man to Petra.
A man she loves and has willingly dedicated her heart to.
“I’ll be careful,” she promises, offering what she hopes to be a reassuring smile. Petra reaches up to card a hand through his hair, fingers brushing against the short bristles of his undercut. “I won’t do anything to mess this up. Though, you know I hate waiting.”
“Tch,” Levi grumbles something unintelligible, but she can see the bashfulness in his eyes. His grip on her hips tighten. “You’ll probably join Shitty Glasses, eh?”
“That’s only if Squad Leader Hange wants me.”
“They would. Four Eyes would be fucking dumb if they turned you down.”
Compliments from Levi aren’t as rare anymore, but still, Petra doesn’t think she will ever tire of them. She beams and slings her arms around his neck. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re sweet?”
“Oi, get off. Your hands are filthy.”
She cracks a grin at that and releases him.
Levi clears his throat, looking oddly shy. “Hey, Ral, remember what I said. Keep it quiet. It’s only a while more.”
No more hiding.
The thought of no longer having to hide their relationship and being seen together with Levi like regular couples sends frissons of longing down her back. It feels as though there are a million butterflies taking flight in her gut.
Petra nods, her cheeks flushing. “I know. After the 57th expedition,” she gives him a cheeky grin. “You’re mine.
Levi offers a faint smile at that. “Yeah?”
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Good Evening, all! Your friendly neighborhood trash dealer here. This is single-handedly the filthiest thing I have ever written. The whore behavior simply jumped out and I could not rein her in. A friend of mine had been hounding me for months to work on something for Ransom and well.....let's just say I provided. Enjoy your sinning xo.
Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader
Word Count: 3.7k
Warnings: SMUT 18+ ONLY (MINORS DNI), daddy kink (I mean duh, it's Ransom), oral sex (m receiving), vaginal intercourse, spanking, dirty talk, degradation, dom/sub vibes, explicit language, praise kink, and per usual - Ransom being kind of an asshole.
By clicking read more you agree that you are at least 18 years of age, as this content is not suitable for anyone younger than that.
You knew you were in deep shit from the moment the word left your lips.
The way his jaw clenched, his eyes narrowed, and his head tilted slightly to the side.
“Sorry, kitten. I don’t think I heard you correctly.” Ransom spat as his knuckles gripping the steering wheel began to turn white.
You were seething with anger in your own way and you weren’t about to let him win. Ransom had a habit of picking the absolute stupidest shit to start a fight over and after the way your night went, you were over it.
“I said no, Ransom. I am so fucking tired of you pulling this shit every single time we go out. I’m not apologizing.” Venom and anger were heavy in your voice.
“Pulling what shit exactly? Being pissed off that you were blatantly flirting with another man right in front of me?” Ransom seemed a little too calm for the situation, and that should’ve been your first clue that this one wasn’t going to end in your favor.
“Oh my god!” You threw your hands up. “For the last fucking time, he was the goddamn bartender and he offered me a drink! That’s his job, you psycho!”
“And where you’re from, is it customary to flash your tits along with your smile at people for doing their job?” Ransom began to accelerate as he made his way back to the house.
“I’m not even going to indulge this anymore. You are fucking ridiculous.” You crossed your arms over your chest and turned your body to face the window.
Dating Ransom was akin to a roller coaster ride - if the roller coaster was coated in toxic slime and on fire. You had come to learn that this side of him, the Mr. Hyde to his Dr. Jekyll, stemmed from many years of untreated self-esteem and mommy issues. Sometimes you were able to shrug off his outbursts as a product of his insecurities, and other times he hit just the right button to send you into your own full blown rage.
Tonight was no different. Ransom had been begging you for weeks to attend some fancy charity dinner with him so that he wouldn’t have to suffer through it alone. He even went as far as to buy you a new dress because you were worried that nothing you owned would be appropriate enough for such an occasion. Now here he was, driving the two of you home, filled with rage over the fact that the dress he bought you showed a little too much cleavage when you leaned over to thank the bartender due to the loud music drowning out any hopes of other noise. Apparently that somehow translated to “flashing the bartender” and wanting to fuck him.
“You’re my girl.” Ransom spoke, somewhat softer than the previous tone, “You don’t belong to anyone else.”
Your gaze drifted toward him, unable to quash the curiosity of what he looked like as he spoke. His jaw was still clenched, but not nearly as hard as it was earlier. Ransom always had one of the most beautiful side profiles - sharp jawline, high cheekbones. You knew he was attempting to keep up the hard ass act, but there was a softness to his face that you would recognize anywhere. Once again, his insecurity got the best of him and he chose to project and take that out on you. You wanted more than anything to stay mad at him, to tell him to fuck off and sleep on the couch, but just like every other time before this, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.
“You’re right.” You spoke softly as you placed a hand on his thigh, “I am your girl. And I love you so much. I just wish you wouldn’t have such an itchy trigger finger. I would never cheat on you, Ransom. I don’t want anyone else, never wanted anyone else.”
Your thumb softly stroked his thigh as you spoke. Almost immediately, you were able to see his shoulders lower back to their normal position and the color return to his knuckles.
Before you were able to say anything else Ransom reached the driveway and put the car in park. You watched from your seat as he exited the car and walked around to your side to open the door for you. You looked up at him for a moment before you took his outstretched hand and allowed him to help you from the passenger seat. Ransom’s hand found its place on your lower back as he walked with you into the house. You were pleasantly surprised that you were able to calm the monster so quickly. It felt as though you had moved past this stupid fight and you were able to let your guard down.
That was a mistake.
The moment the two of you crossed the threshold you felt Ransom’s hands spin your body to pin you harshly against the large wooden front door with a large thud.
“Ransom, what the fu--” Before you were able to finish the sentence, one of his hands flew up to your face and gripped your cheeks harshly. The force of his fingers pushing in on the soft flesh made your lips part slightly.
“You know better than to fuck with me, Kitten. Nobody tells me no.” Ransom’s voice came out as a low growl.
As much as you should’ve been pissed that he would manhandle you like this, you couldn’t stop the ache that began to form between your legs. You stared into his lust blown pupils as you squeezed your thighs together.
“You’ve been a bad fucking girl tonight. Disobeying me, showing other men what’s mine.” Ransom shook your face subtly.
All you could do was blink slowly as you listened to him speak, your eyes betraying you as they trailed down his face to watch his plump lips move. He was right, you did know better.
Knowing better didn’t stop you, however, once an idea popped into your head. You reset your gaze on his as you spoke.
“I’m sorry, daddy.” You managed to mumble out, Ransom’s grip lightening every so slightly as you began to speak.
Instead of giving him a chance to respond to the apology he wanted so badly to receive, you turned your head and took his thumb into your mouth. You made sure to maintain eye contact as you hollowed your cheeks, swirling your tongue around the finger slowly. Ransom groaned and you could swear you felt his cock twitch against your leg. Just as quickly as you took it in, you released his thumb with a wet pop.
“Did you think that little show was going to get you out of trouble, Kitten? That’s cute.”
Ransom unpinned you from the door and as you stumbled forward his hand landed on your ass with a harsh smack.
“Get upstairs. Now.”
You could feel the wetness pooling between your thighs as you obeyed his direction. Practically running up the stairs, you began to take your heels off as you reached the threshold of your room. You tossed the shoes to the corner of the room and took your seat on the edge of the bed, legs together and hands flat on your lap. Exactly how you knew Ransom liked you to be.
This was the part of your relationship that people may see as toxic. The two of you will fight over something stupid, then you usually end up having some kind of hot, possessive, hate sex and then everything is fine the next day. Yeah, sure, when you say it out loud it sounds a little toxic - but it was just the way the two of you worked. After several years of being with Ransom, you were okay with it. The ache between your thighs actually signaled you might be a little more than okay with it.
You sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for him for what felt like forever. Just as you began to feel impatient and the urge to get up and go look for him set in, he appeared in the doorway. His large coat was discarded, probably downstairs, and now he remained only in a white t-shirt and his slacks.
“Stand up.” He commanded as he crossed the room toward you.
Doing as he said, you stood up from the bed and turned slightly as you watched him take the position you were just in. Without needing direction, you laid across his lap. You chewed on your lip as you felt his hands smooth over the fabric covering your ass.
“Now you wanna be a good girl, huh?” Ransom teased as he gripped the flesh of your ass harshly.
You knew the question was rhetorical, but you nodded anyway. Ransom chuckled darkly as he hooked his thumbs underneath the hem of your dress and pushed it up around your waist. Large hands palmed the globes of your ass and you did your best to keep from making any noise - you knew that would only piss him off more.
Unfortunately for you, you weren’t able to contain the squeak that came out as his hand roughly made contact with your bare flesh.
Ransom tsked you as he gingerly stroked the reddened flesh.
“I thought you wanted to be a good girl, Kitten? Now I have to start over, and that was only the first one.”
Ransom continued to stroke the handprint he left on you until he decided that he had been nice for long enough. He began his assault on your flesh as he alternated smacking both sides of your ass harshly. Occasionally they would be short bursts of rapid succession and then others left you wondering when the next one was going to come. You did everything you could to keep your noises at bay. The skin stung and tears had begun to form in your eyes, but you would be lying if you said you weren’t incredibly turned on.
Deciding you had finally had enough, Ransom began to soothe the sore skin once more. Gentle hands caressed the area and he leaned down to pepper kisses along his red handprints.
“You did so good for me, Kitten.” Ransom cooed as he sat back up straight.
You felt his hand nudge your thighs apart, his palm coming into contact with your soaking core. Of course, it was his idea that you go without panties. He always said he liked having easier access. Ransom slid his palm up and down, collecting the wetness that had started to drip onto his lap. There were very few things Ransom loved more than to see how much he affected you.
“My poor girl. So wet. Bet it aches, doesn’t it, Kitten?” Ransom teased as he continued to run his palm over your folds.
You keened as you nodded your head, unable to keep your hips from grinding against his palm. He was right, you were aching and needed any type of friction you were able to find. A loud gasp fell from your lips as you felt his palm smack your core three times in rapid succession. The noise of his palm slapping against the wetness was absolutely obscene - and it only made you wetter.
“Such a little fucking whore. Trying to get yourself off on my hand. Bad girls don’t get to cum.” Ransom removed his hand from between your thighs completely, making you whine at the loss of contact.
Ransom’s hands instead found their way to your hips as he helped you up and off of his lap. Immediately, you sank to your knees between his thighs.
“I wanna be your good girl, daddy.” You whined, undoing the button and zipper on his pants. “I’m so sorry. Let me show you how sorry.”
Ransom chuckled at your pathetic appearance - eyes red from tears, lips swollen from being bitten to keep your noises in, and cheeks flushed pink.
“What a good idea, Kitten. Guess you aren’t as stupid as I thought.” Ransom lifted his hips to help you as you gripped his pants and boxers and slid them down his thighs. He reached behind his neck and pulled the white shirt from his body, tossing it haphazardly.
You licked your lips as you took in the sight of his thick cock. The tip was swollen, red, and leaking pre-cum. He enjoyed the previous activities just as much as you had, if not more. You locked your eyes on his as you gathered saliva in your mouth and spit into your hand, using it as lubrication as you gripped him at his base and began to pump your hand up and down. Ransom leaned back onto his hands as he let out a string of obscenities.
“You’re a dirty fucking girl, aren’t you? Fuck. Use your mouth.”
Not wanting to disappoint, you leaned forward and flattened your tongue as you licked a stripe up the underside of his cock. As you reached the top you swirled your tongue around the head, collecting the salty pre-cum before relaxing your throat and taking as much of him into your mouth as you could. One of Ransom’s hands quickly went into your hair to twist the strands and hold it like a makeshift ponytail. You choked slightly as he bucked his hips up to your mouth, but did your best to relax and breathe through your nose.
“Love this fucking dirty mouth.” Ransom moaned loudly, taking his bottom lip between his teeth.
You pulled away when it began to feel like too much, a string of saliva connecting the tip to your lips. You licked your lips and wrapped your hand around him to stroke him while you caught your breath. Hungry to please him, you quickly took him back into your mouth, once again relaxing the back of your throat as much as possible as you hollowed your cheeks around his length. What you couldn’t take in your mouth, you stroked with your hand. Ransom was a squirming mess beneath you and it only egged you on. There were very few times when he would allow himself to appear vulnerable, and you loved when he did.
Letting him go once more, you continued to stroke his cock as you leaned down to take his balls in your mouth, suckling gently. You felt him tighten under you immediately.
“Jesus Christ, Kitten. You really want to make daddy cum, don’t you?” Ransom hissed.
Pulling away once more, you continued stroking him as you nodded enthusiastically.
Ransom’s lip darted out from his parted lips to wet his bottom lip.
“Then let daddy fuck that sweet little mouth.”
You felt yourself clench around nothing at his words. You released your grip on him and leaned back on your haunches. As Ransom stood up you tilted your head upward toward him and opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out and flattening it for him.
Ransom grinned at how eager you were to please him. One of his hands cupped the back of your head as his other gripped his cock, tapping it on your tongue a few times before pushing it inside your mouth. The stretch burned your throat and the sensation of your gag reflex setting off made you want to pull away, but the sweet noises that fell from Ransom’s lips were too good to give up. You did your best to breathe through your nose as you dug your fingernails into his thighs and let him fuck your mouth.
“Fuck, Kitten. G-Gonna cum.” Ransom panted as he placed both hands on your head, his hips snapping harshly into your mouth.
You did your best to swirl your tongue around him as he moved in and out of your mouth. Finally, his hips began to falter and soon you felt his release coat the back of your throat. You greedily swallowed every last drop, licking your lips as soon as his cock left your mouth.
Ransom sighed deeply as he let go of your head and stumbled backwards, landing back in his spot at the end of the bed. You bit your lip as you watched him try to regain his breath. You took this moment to pull your dress from your body and add it to the pile of clothes already on the floor, your bra following in suit. Slowly dropping to all fours, you crawled toward him on the bed. As you reached the space between his thighs, his thumb and pointer fingers came down to cradle your chin.
“Did I make you feel good, daddy?” You purred as he tilted your head up toward him.
“Made daddy feel real good, Kitten. I knew you had it in you. My good girl.” Ransom swiped his thumb across your lower lip as he gave you a tired grin.
“Now get up here. I wanna feel that tight little pussy ‘round my cock.”
Ransom moved up the bed, leaning back against the headboard as he watched you scramble to your feet and crawl onto the bed.
You straddled his waist and placed your palms flat on his chest. Before moving, you leaned in to capture his lips in another kiss. Ransom moaned at the way you asserted yourself and pushed your tongue into his mouth, tangling it with his own. His hands gripped your hips tightly as you bit down on his bottom lip and pulled back on it. As you let it go you fluttered your eyes up to meet his.
“I love you.”
Ransom cupped your cheek in a rare moment of tenderness. His thumb slowly stroked the apple of your cheek as he looked at you in admiration.
“I love you too, Kitten. Now ride me.”
Grinning at Ransom’s inability to remain soft for more than a few seconds, you seated yourself over his cock. You lowered your hips and grinded your wetness against him for a few moments, biting your lip at the way his cock twitched from sensitivity. Ransom’s hands found their way back to your hips as he gave you a warning growl.
Before he had a chance to chastise you, you reached between the two of you to line him up to your entrance and slid down until he filled you to the hilt. The two of you moaned in tandem at the sensation. The familiar sting of his cock stretching you open drew a hiss from your lips. No one had ever made you feel the way Ransom does - so satisfied and full.
After a moment of stillness, you began to rock your hips against him. It was a slow body roll at first, but quickly became more of a needy bounce as the feeling turned from painful to absolute pleasure. Ransom continued to hold your hips with such a force that you were sure there would be bruises present tomorrow.
“Shit, can feel you drippin’ all over me.” Ransom cursed through gritted teeth, as your wetness soaked down onto his thighs.
“C-can’t help it.” You whined, raking your fingernails down his chest. “Makin’ me feel so good. So full.”
Ransom began to meet your thrusts halfway, using his grip on your hips to help you continue to ride him.
“That’s fuckin right. Nobody can make you feel the way I can, isn’t that right? Who’s perfect little fucking cunt is this, hmm?”
“Yours!” You shouted as you tossed your head back, moaning loudly as he hit the spongy spot inside you.
Using the opportunity to his advantage, Ransom shoved three fingers into your open mouth. You held onto his wrist as you sucked his fingers, drooling around them and using his arm as leverage to assist in the rocking of your hips. Ransom kept those fingers in your mouth as he used his other hand to pinch your nipple harshly.
“So responsive to me. Your body fuckin loves me, baby.” Ransom grunted as he gave the other breast the same treatment. “Love these perfect fuckin tits.”
You moaned loudly around his fingers as you felt yourself begin to flutter around him.
“That greedy little pussy is squeezin me so fuckin tight. You think you deserve to cum now, hmm? You think you’ve been a good enough girl?” Ransom withdrew his fingers from your lips.
You fell slightly forward and splayed your hands on his chest as he bent his knees and put his feet flat against the mattress.
“Yes! Yes! Please, daddy!” You whined as you dug your fingernails into his chest. “Been so good, please, i’m so sorry, i’ll never be bad again!”
Ransom used the fingers that he had placed in your mouth to rub tight circles against your clit, making you shout out in pleasure. His other hand kept a tight hold on your hip as he began to use his leverage to thrust up into you, reaching a deeper spot inside you than he had all night.
“Go ahead, Kitten. Cum.”
With his words you reached your peak with a quiet scream. Eyes clamped shut, mouth slack, and fingers digging into Ransom’s chest - you felt your release coat him and leak onto the bed. Ransom continued to fuck you through your orgasm and you felt him twitch inside of you shortly after, painting your walls with his release.
Unable to keep yourself up right, you allowed your body to collapse down onto his. Chest to chest, face tucked in the crook of his neck as you panted heavily. Ransom’s arms immediately wrapped around you as he stroked your back with his hand.
After a few moments of silence, other than your heavy breathing, Ransom pressed a soft kiss to your temple. A soft sigh floated from your hips.
“M’sorry.” Ransom whispered quietly against your head.
If you hadn’t been paying attention you would’ve missed it, but you knew Ransom well enough to know what he was apologizing for. Him fucking you within an inch of your life was his own way of saying, “Sorry I was an asshole”.
Another kiss was pressed to your forehead as your body was gently laid onto the mattress. Ransom made his way to the bathroom and came back with a warm towel, using it to clean the mess between your legs as he placed soft kisses on your thighs. Ransom tossed the towel onto the floor and climbed back into the bed with you, pulling your back flush against him.
“I love you, Ransom.” You whispered, closing your eyes and enjoying the moment with your boyfriend.
“Love you too, Kitten.” Ransom whispered back as he placed a kiss between your shoulder blades.
The two of you laid in bed quietly, holding one another close, fully prepared to forget about this fight in the morning. Sure, what the two of you had was a little twisted and fucked up - but it was yours.
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Sorry for the lack of posts. I promise I’m still writing and all that fun stuff, but I’ve been really drained as of late. It’s just taking longer than usual to crank them out. Not because I don’t have an idea, just because of lack of energy. Y’all have chapters and a one shot coming your way soon!!
I love you and pls be kind to yourselves. Remember to drink water and eat meals. Okay, that’s all, bye.
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Kiss the Bride // Chris Evans
Summary: He should've objected when he had the chance.
Warnings: kind of angsty
All the times he'd held you were washing down the drain. It was over. For real this time.
Chris watched as you walked gracefully down the aisle, wearing the dress you'd picked out for the wedding you thought you'd be having with him. He'd seen it all. He remembered when you showed him the binder full of your wedding plans. You never prioritized a wedding, but you'd always wanted to be prepared. You'd picked out everything from the color of the flower petals to the pin you'd put in your hair. Everything was all there. Except for him. His heart sunk when you locked eyes with him. He felt sick. Was this how it ended? With you walking down the aisle to another man as he sat there helplessly? He had to look away from you because this was the day you'd always dreamed of. How dare he ruin this for you? Just because he fucked everything up. It wouldn't be fair to you.
He watched the ceremony. It was beautiful. It was perfect for you. He felt nauseous the entire time. He couldn't decide if he should leave or stay. He wanted to choke out the groom and confess his love for you, but he couldn't. It was too late. As the two of you exchanged vows, Chris had to fight the urge to stop the wedding right then. This was what you'd always dreamed of.
"Is there anyone who objects to this marriage?"
He could've sworn you looked at him. You stared him dead in the eye. Was it a sign? A call for help? Were you asking him to speak up?
"Speak now or forever hold your peace."
He could hear you calling to him. You were begging him to save you. Right? Of course not. You were happy. This was good for you. You deserved this more than anyone he'd ever met. He stayed silent. He let himself lose. It was over.
The reception was beautiful. Exactly how you'd planned it. He smiled lightly at the ice sculpture of swans in the shape of hearts that you'd always dreamed of having at your special day. He'd always hated the idea of it.
"It's tacky, (Y/N). Too predictable."
"Oh, come on, Chris. It's beautiful. If you don't like it, I'm sure someone else will," you'd tease.
Chris sighed at the sculpture and wondered if your husband liked it.
He turned around and his heart stopped. He was sure his lungs would collapse at any second.
You were standing right in front of him. Beautiful as ever. He could've sworn angels had started singing, but he was too far gone for angels to be near him. He didn't deserve for you to be near him anymore. He'd lost that privilege.
You weren't quite sure what to say to him. You weren't even sure why you went to talk to him. Your feet seemed to have started moving before you could stop them. Now, you were standing right in front of him speechless. You couldn't tell if you were heartbroken or angry.
How could he just let this happen? Why didn't he say anything? Did he even care?
Whatever the answers were, they didn't matter anymore. It was over with. There was no hope at this point.
"The wedding was beautiful, (Y/N). Congratulations," he commented, smiling. You smiled back as brightly as you could manage, hoping he wouldn't notice just how much of a show you were putting on.
Why were you even speaking to him? You had nothing to say to him.
"Enjoy the party," you told him with a smile. "Thank you so much for coming."
You held your hand out to him and inwardly cringed. When did the two of you become so fucking formal? He stared for a moment with his hands shoved in his pockets before finally grabbing your hand in his and shaking it. What the hell was that?
You smiled one last time before turning away from him.
"(Y/N)," he called. He sounded desperate. Like he was begging you to turn around You wanted to kill him. He lets you marry someone else and then calls your name with that much hopelessness in his voice? How fucking dare he?
"I should have spoke up. Right? It wasn't just me?"
He was fidgeting with his hands. Peeling at his nails. You sighed and turned to look at him. You strode back over and grabbed his hands to force him to stop.
His eyes were nervous and fearful. What if he'd read this all wrong? What if you were happy and he was standing here ruining that?
"I wish you would have," you told him, pushing yourself on your toes to kiss his cheek. "But, you didn't. And neither did I. I'm sorry."
There it was.
It was officially over.
He knew that as you gave him one last defeated smile and walked over to your new husband.
There was no hope.
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💕🌸 happy dob, dad! 🌸💕
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the first tooth
Summary: a drabble of this family (can still be a stand alone) where Celeste loses her first tooth.
Pairings: Dad! Husband! Ransom Drysdale x reader
Celeste, six, has been bragging about her loose tooth ever since she bursted in the kitchen–– freaking the both of you out.
"My tooth is wiggling! My tooth is wiggling!" she screams then stops to show you the tooth, mouth wide open, her tongue pushing against her left front tooth.
"Look at that, you're about to lose your first tooth babe!" Ransom laughed, her chin between his fingers.
You raised your hand for a high five, "Now we just gotta wait for it to fall off and then the tooth fairy can drop you a gift" you tell her.
"Or you could let daddy help you remove it faster?"
"How?" she looks at him skeptically, mouth slanted.
"I could tie it to the door and close it, so it pops out?" he asks her.
Her hands cover her mouth as she grimaces at the thought of it. Your stomach turns too at the thought of it, you've always gone for the natural path of letting a tooth fall out. Not very surprised that Ransom was the fearless kid who took his teeth out in different methods.
"No thank you!" her voice muffled behind her hands.
"All right, suit yourself" he tells her, arms raised.
"Try eating some hard things baby, that usually helps, and you never notice" you advise her.
"Yeah, like a carrot"
“Thanks!” she cheered to the both of you, skipping to the back door. “I’m going outside!”
When you hear the slam of the door behind her you turn to Ransom, whose face matches yours.
“She’s losing her first tooth” you sigh.
Of course you're ecstatic to see her growing so happy and healthy, but time truly flies by when you’re having fun. And it was definitely raising a little girl like Celeste, who was perfect in every way in your and Ransom’s eyes.
“I know!” he shrieks, “Next thing you know she’ll be asking me for a raise on her allowance”
“Ran!” you can’t help but laugh at his joke
“We can always have another one?” he inquiries sweetly. His arms latching around your waist tightly, one hand running up and down your spine.
“We’ll sit on it” you tell him, kissing his forehead, walking back to the cake batter you were mixing.
He can’t help but feel the slight disappointment wash over him, but he also understands, with how hard your pregnancy was with Celeste.
Days pass as Celeste’s loose tooth becomes her new obsession. She’s shut down every opportunity Ransom gives her to try the string method and let nature take its course.
She’s tried eating hard food, gargling salt water, brushing her tooth rougher than usually, and gently wiggling it around with her tongue. But to no avail, since it seems her tooth is as stubborn as Celeste herself.
When the moment finally happens it is during dinner, which takes place in the living room. She doesn’t even realize at first until her face sours up and you and Ransom look onto her confused.
“You okay?” you ask, a little worried she wasn’t enjoying her food–– consisting of plain wings, truffle fries, celery with a side of blue cheese.
She spits something into her palm and pulls back her head slowly, “My tooth! It’s my tooth! It finally came out!” She's beaming.
Ransom can tell how bad the jellybeans are taking over her, so he takes her plate from her lap and as quick as he does that, she jumps off the couch dancing around the room.
The hand holding the tooth shakes in the air as she sings a tune mixed with “My tooth fell out” and “The tooth fairy is coming.”
“Come here you firecracker” Ransom laughs, waving his arm in a come here motion.
When she stands between his legs, he tilts her head up to see more clearly. “I’m so proud of you lesty, let me take a picture” his body reaches forward to grab his phone off the coffee table.
“Daddy!” she groans, palming her forehead. She thinks neither of you can’t tell through her little facade, but Celeste Drysdale turned into an instant diva whenever the camera was faced onto her. She loves taking her photo, no matter the occasion.
You smile as your husband smiles taking a picture of the smiling girl holding up her first lost tooth.
When he finishes taking who knows how many pictures of his precious girl, he asks her to look over them. “Look how beautiful you look” he smiles down at her.
“I know! Thank you daddy” she responds confidently.
Definitely a Drysdale.
“I’m so proud of baby” you tell her as you hug her closely, kissing her cheek. “You know what to do now right?”
“I’m gonna go put it under my pillow” she bellows, dashing out of your arms and up the stairs.
“I think one hundred dollars should suffice” he says, his arm hooking over your shoulders.
“It’s her first tooth! C’mon…”
“That’s a lot of money for a kid, baby” you tell him.
“Fifty–– and i’m not going any less”
“I wasn’t expecting you to” rolling your eyes at the stupid, yet attractive smirk on his face.
if you enjoyed pls don’t forget to reblog or give feedback if ur up to it <3
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a thought: ransom doing something to piss you off and he ends up regretting it but doesn’t know how to make it up to you cause he wants it to be genuine and he falls asleep in his office and you go to bring him to bed and you find that he’s been reading a wikihow article called “how to apologize” 🥺
learning to apologize
warnings: ransom is a dick (but tries to get better), mention of weight insecurity, pet name (princess)
He hadn't meant to. Honest. It's just...well...Sometimes he liked to get a rise out of you. He likes the way you react, how your hands curl into fists, how your voice gets slightly higher as you argue back, how your face screws up as you try to look intimidating. It's cute. He likes to know that he can make you feel such intense emotions, how you're putty in his hands. But this time, even he knew that he went a little too far.
Okay, a lot too far.
You'd been getting ready to go out to some work thing with him, and he made an uncalled for comment about how your dress was a smidge too tight. But instead of fighting back like Ransom expected you to, your face crumpled up and you retreated to your shared bathroom. He followed after you, an apology on the tip of his tongue, but the words that fell out instead only made things worse.
"Oh, come on, you can't seriously be pissed about this," he said, watching you take a reusable makeup wipe and starting to remove your makeup. "Come on, stop that. We got a dinner to get to."
"You can go."
"No I fucking can't, it's your work dinner!" Ransom tried to grab your arm, stop you from taking off more of your makeup, but you only jerked away. "Princess, please. Stop. Don't ruin the evening."
"Oh, I'm ruining the evening? Good to know."
You rinsed the makeup wipe and set it on the counter before brushing past him to go to the walk-in closet, unzipping your dress as you walked. You slid it off your body and put it back on its hanger. After taking off your bra, you grabbed an oversized t-shirt from your college years and put it on.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be sleeping in the guest room."
His heart hammered in his chest, panic rising up as he tried to fix this. "Princess, please—"
"No." You held your hand up, stopping him. "Let me be mad. We can talk about this in the morning, but you just...Please, let me be."
He didn't anything more, afraid that he would ruin things further, so he left you go, watching you leave the room. He stayed still for a moment, before deciding he needed to do something to fix this.
Talking to you was out of the question. At the moment, he knew that anything he said would just make things work. Buying you something wouldn't work either. As much as you loved being spoiled by Ransom, this wasn't the kind of thing where his money could just wish his problems away. No, he needed to do something big.
He needed to learn how to apologize.
He retired to his office, sinking into the leather seat and turning on his computer. He chewed on his lip when he opening a browser, feeling like an idiot as he typed "how to apologize wikihow" and hit enter.
He read over the article like it was the goddamn Bible, reciting each step as if it was the gospel truth.
Part 1. Preparing Your Apology
1. Give Up the Idea of Being "Right".
2. Use "I" Statements.
3. Avoid Justifying Your Actions.
4. Use Excuses Cautiously.
5. Avoid the "But".
6. Consider the Other Person's Needs and Personality.
7. Write Your Apology Down, If You Like.
Ransom had to stop himself from groaning when he realized how in depth this tutorial was. But, admittedly, he didn't have the first clue how to apologize. He never had to before. And yet, he knew he had to. He got the feeling that he could ruin everything he had built with you if he didn't get his shit together, and he wasn't about to fuck things up so easily.
So, he grabbed a pen and started drafting an apology.
Part 2. Apologizing at the Right Time and Place
1. Find the Right Time.
2. Do It in Person.
3. Choose a Quiet or Private Setting.
4. Make Sure You Have Enough Time to Have a Complete Conversation.
He'd do it first thing in the morning. He'd go to the guest room, wake you up gently if you weren't already awake. He'd take your hands in his, press soft kisses to your knuckles, before beginning to apologize. Yes, yes that could work..
Part 3. Making Your Apology
1. Be Open and Non-Threatening.
2. Use Open, Humble Body Language.
3. State Your Regret.
4. Accept Responsibility.
5. State How You Will Remedy the Situation.
6. Listen to the Other Person.
7. End with Gratitude.
8. Be Patient.
9. Stick to Your Word.
He was all set. He was sure of it. He'll run through his apology a few more times, and then he'll go to you first thing in the morning. But, first, he'll rest his eyes for just a moment...
When he opened his eyes, sunlight was streaming in through the large windows and something was sitting on him. Something was sitting on him. Wait, you were sitting on him.
"Whatcha doin', princess?" he asked, his voice low and still drowsy.
"I forgive you," you said, kissing the tip of his nose.
His brows furrowed together. "I haven't even apologized yet."
"You don't have to. I saw what you were looking up, and...Ransom, I think that might've just been the sweetest thing you've ever done."
"No, no, no. Please, let me say this." You leaned back, and he looked up into your pretty eyes as he said, "Princess, I'm so sorry for what I did. I didn't mean to poke fun at your weight. You have and always will look stunning to me, no matter how big or how small. Sometimes, I like to poke fun at you 'cause I like to know I can get you to react so strongly. I never meant, though, to make you feel insecure. I will do better from now on, and only try to get a rise out of you by saying good things about you. I promise."
A smile overtook your face as you leaned down to kiss him.
"Does this mean you forgive me?" he mumbled against your lips.
"Of course I forgive you, you big ole sap."
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Twirls & Curls
Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x blackF!reader
A/N: This idea popped into my head right before I did my hair the other day. So, this is hella self-indulgent and partially based on having real life experiences of people watching me do my hair, combined with imagining how our favorite sweater wearing murderer might act in a similar situation. Also, I’d like to mention that all curls are not the same (obviously). I based this off of what I do with my hair and how it is for me, which I know is not a universal experience. But I hope it still will be nice for other people who may have hair similar to mine. Feedback is always appreciated. I’d like to get better at writing so please shoot me a line or two.
Warnings: Cursing, but that’s to be expected. Allusions to smut. Fluff? But smutty fluff?? Who’s to say? Ransom is still sort of an asshole but he’s soft for reader against his will. Lots of talk about hair and styling. All mistakes are on me.
Word Count: 2,202
Today was going to be a weird day. Doing your hair generally was second nature, annoying, but never a huge deal. Usually, you did it in the comfort of your own place. Free not to worry about how the process looked, how much product you used, or how long it took. But this time around, on this day in particular, was going to be interesting to say the least.
You and Ransom had been dating for a while now, way longer than you thought possible for him if you were being honest. The first night you’d spent with him ended much different than you expected. You were fully prepared to have some fun, tussle with Boston’s most notorious bachelor, slip out and never see him again. That however was the exact opposite of what happened. The man had a vice grip. You tried to get up to get dressed and leave, but instead he wrapped his big arms around your waist with a frustrated huff.
“Stay….” he’d whispered. So low you were sure you imagined it. You assumed maybe he was a bit touch starved and would want you there only until the morning, then he’d kick you out and pretend nothing had happened. But that wasn’t the case, he never actually let you go.
That was almost a year ago. And today? You find yourself again in the clutches of Ransom Drysdale, who now didn’t mind being addressed as your boyfriend. Well who were you kidding, you were his girlfriend. Heavy emphasis on his, the possessive fucker. Though you complained, you not so secretly loved how attached he was to you. It made you feel like a god, that you had accidentally made Boston’s biggest asshole heel. Though he’d never see it that way. He just claims he was “bored with all the floozies” and decided that you would do for his “first round in the girlfriend department” whatever the hell that meant.
“Isn’t this easier babygirl? Why would you want to go all the way back to your place just to do your hair? I’ve seen it wet before…” you stand in front of him with your arms crossed over your chest, still slightly annoyed that he got you to agree to do your hair at his place this weekend. But that was the foundation of your relationship: he always got you to stay.
“Easier for you maybe. I had to lug all of my products here and worry about you being grossed out by my deep conditioner.” He snorted at that, couldn’t deny that he wasn’t a fan of your deep conditioner. Not one bit.
“Babe, to be fair that shit smells like playdough. Why in the fuck do you purposely put that in your hair in the first place?”
You were exasperated, you’d already explained to him several times why it was necessary. But this stubborn little shit just would not retain the information.
“How many times have I told you Ransom? Curly hair needs more moisture than straight hair. The deep conditioner is there to-” but before you can finish he’s cutting you off with a dismissive wave of his hand.
“No, I get that, but why does it smell like fucking clay? There are better scents out there and they chose that?” You can’t stop the giggles from erupting at his mini rant. Truth be told, you weren’t a huge fan of the scent either, but it worked for your hair, so clay smell it was. Shrugging you tell him exactly that.
“It’s not my favorite smell either baby, but it makes my hair really soft so…”
“They could have at least tried to make it smell better” he says with a look of disgust on his face. You walk over to the bed where he’s sitting and quickly peck him on his forehead then his lips.
“Well you’re not wrong, but it is what it is. Thankfully, my hair never smells like clay after I rinse it out, so we just have to deal with that for a few minutes.” You say lifting your shoulders once again. “Anyway, since you insist on me doing this here, I’m gonna have to lay down some ground rules.” Before he can even think about arguing you put your hand up to stop him from speaking.
“Nuh uh, my hair my rules. Got it?” Rolling his eyes, he nods and crosses his arms.
“Fine.” He responds with a scowl, not fond of you giving him orders. Or so he says, secretly he loves how you always stand up to him. Always have some sort of witty comeback. That mouth of yours is one of his favorite things about you, for more reasons than one.
“Okay first things first, if you say anything even remotely disrespectful I’m gonna punch you directly in the balls, then I’m leaving, and I’m never coming back. Understood?”
“Jesus Christ y/n, I won’t. I’ve done questionable things, yes, but I’m not a fucking bigot. Those people are the scum of the earth, why would you even-” you put a hand up again and let out sigh.
“Listen dick head, I’m just covering my bases. Nothing personal okay?” He actually looks offended, which is almost funny. You have to be guarded with him, with anyone honestly. He’s an unpredictable guy even if he is a lot sweeter now than when you first met him. People can be horrible about this kind of stuff and you’re not gonna put up with any of it if you can help it. Especially not from your outwardly rude, lowkey soft boyfriend.
“Next, rule. No touching my hair while it’s drying. If you tug on it, or ruffle it, or anything at all while it’s still wet it’ll frizz up and ruin my curls. And I swear, I will beat you within an inch of your life if I have to do my hair over.”
After giving a basic run down of what he can and can’t do during your styling process you mentally prepare yourself for what you knew would be a long day.
With your wash and deep condition done, you put out your moisturizer, your styling cream, and your styling gel. Ransom is just about to head downstairs to get lunch when he stops in the doorway of the master-suite, a puzzled look etched on his face.
“Didn’t you already do your hair in the shower? What’s all this?” He asks gesturing to your styling products. His brows deeply creased as he tries to figure out what the hell you’re about to do now.
“I deep conditioned in the shower, now I have to define and style my hair. I told you this was a long process.”
“And you do this how often?”
“Once a week, sometimes every two weeks if I can stretch it.” With a look of disbelief and a shake of his head, he walks down to the kitchen, leaving you to start the styling process.
When he makes it back up the stairs with his food and a snack for you as well, he’s stopped in his tracks by the scene in his bathroom. You have music blasting from your phone, singing along and swaying your hips to the beat. You’ve clearly got this process down to a science because the back of your hair is seemingly already done. The curls shining and wetting the back of your tank top as you move. The front two sections of your hair are in little space buns waiting for you to get to them, and your detangling brush is doubling as a microphone as you belt out the lyrics to the song you have playing. Ransom was not at all prepared to see you so completely in your element, but he loves it. You look absolutely stunning, so carefree, and unencumbered. In this moment Ransom realizes he always wants to see you like this. He also realizes that all he wants to do right now is walk over and kiss you senseless with his hands in your gorgeous hair. And that’s exactly what he plans to do, rules be damned. Quietly he puts his food and your snack down on the bedside table and walks toward you with purpose. Thankfully for the sake of your hair, you spot him before he can get too close and quickly shut off the music and turn to face him.
“What do you think you’re doing Ransom?”
“What? I can’t give my beautiful girl a kiss?” Scowling you take a small step back, not trusting him at all.
“What were you gonna do with your hands, you’re not slick, I can see your fingers twitching.” He smiles at that, mischief in his eyes as he takes another long stride closer to you.
“I just wanna feel baby, you’re gorgeous. Do you know how much I want you right now?” His voice is dangerously low as he inches closer and closer until he has you flush against the vanity countertop.
“Hey, what did I say? No touching.” your voice is breathy and doesn’t hold as much conviction as you want it to. It’s always hard to say no to Ransom, especially now that he has you caged in between his muscular arms and entranced by his all-encompassing focus on you and only you.
“I know what you said baby, but you’re just too pretty for me to ignore. How am I supposed to keep my hands off when you look so damn perfect right now?” Ransom’s so close you can feel the warmth radiating off of his body. He leans in and inhales the sweet scent of your hair before nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck and gently kissing your collar bone. This man was going to be the death of you, and he was gonna start by not letting you finish your hair. Damn him.
“Ransom…” You really want to sound stern, but your voice sounds more like a whimper than a command. You can feel the smirk forming on the bastards face as he’s still pressed into the base of your neck. Not only do you know he’s winning, he clearly knows it too.
“Yes baby? You need something?” The mock concern in his voice is enough to break the spell he has on you. Not fully, but just enough for you to clear your throat and scoot back; and up onto the counter to create some distance between you two. Although all that does is give Ransom the wrong idea as he steps in between your open legs.
“I need you to back up so I can finish my hair Ransom.” Tisking he pulls his head back so he can look you in the eyes.
“Babygirl, what’s the point of letting you finish if all I’m gonna do is fuck it up anyway?” Your eyebrows shoot up at that. He has a point. He looks like he’s seconds away from devouring you, and finished or not, your hair won’t survive the onslaught. Truth be told you were more than a little tempted to let him ruin you and your hair.
“But my hair is all wet and slimy with product, it’ll feel all gross. You don’t want to have that on your hands.” You’re grasping at straws trying to think of anything to deter him, but it isn’t really working for either of you.
“I’m willing to bet your hair isn’t the only thing that’s wet, now is it sweetheart?”
“Fuck you, asshole.”
“Baby, that’s kinda the point.”
You were fighting a losing battle. You really wanted to finish your hair, but on the other hand this sex god is right in front of you with hunger and something much softer in his eyes. Why did he have to look at you like you were some ethereal goddess? It wasn’t fair. Ransom Drysdale seemingly would never cease to surprise you with his desire for you. Leaning into him you drape your arms loosely over his shoulders. A slow smile crept onto his face, his expression somewhere between triumph and adoration. You were so fucked.
“Goddamnit, Ransom.” The shit eating grin on his face made you want to slap him, but a gentle kiss stops you cold.
“Just this once baby, I swear I’ll never interrupt while you do your hair again.” There’s a pause as he gives you an agonizingly slow once over. “Can you even blame me? Look at you…”
“Just this once?” your eyebrow quirks, resolve all but gone but still hanging on by a thread. He leans in again to slowly kiss your forehead, both of your cheeks and then your lips.
“Just this time, I promise.” That was so clearly a lie. This most certainly would not be the only time, but was that really a bad thing? He was enthralled with you in your most natural state, and that made your heart swell.
“Okay.” You say softly leaning up to gently kiss his lips.
You never thought that first kiss all those months ago would lead you here. Loving and being loved by Ransom Drysdale, but you couldn’t complain. He always made you stay, and you’re so glad you did.
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Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x F!Reader
Warnings: Allusions to smut & fluff. Partially canon Ransom, but he’s getting all soft so is it really canon🤷🏾♀️lol
A/N: Enjoy this little weird that came to me while listening to music😊
Word Count: 238
There was something about you.
Ransom had never given any prolonged thought into a woman. He never even considered having a partner. The women who usually shared his bed only ever saw it once. Maybe twice if they didn’t make a scene the next morning. But you? You were an anomaly. He wanted you in his bed, in his study, in his living room, in his kitchen. Anywhere he could have you. And not just for sex.
Although, who was he kidding, he’d never get tired of those sounds you made for him. Those little gasps, those doe eyes. And god when you bit that bottom lip. He never understood how you could simultaneously be so sexy and so adorable. Looking so innocent in the most obscene positions. Breathy moans falling from your lips, his name sounding like a symphony on your tongue.
Your laugh was another favorite sound of his, though he would never admit it to you outright. Your smile made his heart race, caused his face to flush. You changed everything, changed him. His life tilted on its axis when you came into it. His money and status were no longer all that mattered. You’d snuck into his heart and brought color to his previously blank canvas. He wasn’t ready to tell you, so he’d have to show you instead.
There was something about you, and he’d be damned if he let you get away.
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why did you quit? are you having another bipolar episode?
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I only own the rights to my own original characters.
Please DO NOT post any of my works on any other platform or site. Feel free to like, comment and/or reblog. Thank You!
🔞NO Underage please! Although my works not always contain explicit sexual content (smut), they do deal with adult themes, included but not limited to, sensitive topics and/or triggering content. You’re more than welcome to follow my G-Rated blog @angrybirdcr-family
💌 mean one-shot // 📖 means series
🔥 means smut // 🚨contains warnings
💖 means fluff // 💔 means angst
↬Crowned Sin 👑
Summary: Who said that arrange marriages have to be forced? Sometimes life might surprise you for the better. That’s what happens to Crown Prince! Ransom Drysdale when his world is turned upside down by the sudden appearance of an enigmatic yet bright Duchess that might be just exactly what he needs, what he wants. Lust, Wine and Love mix with the weight of the crown.
😌💖✨**Thank you for reading!**😌💖✨
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she gets the flowers: all he wanted (bonus) ✧ ransom drysdale & steve rogers
she gets the flowers ✧ a ransom drysdale series | taglist | ao3
inspired by: Well that was satisfying~ am I wrong for hoping Ransom's relationship goes in the shitter~? Will there be a bonus chapter of his POV or how his life ended up or just him hearing that they're getting married~? ^^ - on ao3
pairing: ransom drysdale x fem!reader (former)
summary: you were all he ever wanted.
word count: 2,524
warning(s): mention of alcohol, sort of a retelling of what’s happened in the story from ransom’s point of view, mention of friends with benefits situation, mention of manipulation, ransom’s just a really selfish man, angsty, not proofread
Ransom Drysdale was not the kind of man who regretted things. But, he mused, knocking back his fifth shot of tequila, if there was one thing he regretted, it was losing you. He had the remarkable tendency of ruining everything he touched. He supposed he could blame it on his background. He certainly did. Where he was from, love was not easily given, if at all. Affection for the weak and, if the Thrombey family was anything, it was not weak. But, if he was being honest with himself, he knew that what had happened was solely his fault. While he was not in control of his background, he was also a grown ass adult that chose his own actions. Unfortunately, Ransom was rarely honest with himself.
And yet, for a fleeting moment, he almost wished that he was an honest man. Perhaps then he would be good for you. But he also wasn’t a man who cared if he was good for anyone other than himself. He cared about himself, a selfish man through and through. He did what he wanted, when he wanted, the rest of the world be damned.
That was his fatal flaw.
He remembered when he was younger, when he was first forced on playdates with you. He hated the idea, hated having to play nice with other people. So, he didn’t. He yanked on your hair, stole your toys, called you names. And the entire time, you laughed it off. It confused him to no end. How could you just roll off the punches so easily? Did you not have an ounce of self-preservation?
The behavior continued as the two of you got older. He realized that he could use it to his advantage. If he asked for anything, you would be more than happy to oblige. He dragged you everywhere he wanted. You were practically his own little doll to do with what he pleased. And his least favorite thing was when others tried to take you from him.
Once, when he took you with him on a summer vacation in Paris, the summer after the two of you graduated high school, he took you out to a club. He had meant to ditch you, to find a willing woman or two to get his dick wet, but those plans were quickly abandoned when he see saw that. How dare another man talk to you? How dare another man that was so far beneath you even think he had a chance? And how dare you even think about laughing at that man’s jokes, touching that man’s arm, leaning into his like you gave a damn about him? He saw red as he stormed up behind you, snaking an arm around your waist, and chewing that man out for having the audacity to look at you. You weren’t too pleased with his antics, but when he pulled you out of the club, saying that he would rather take you to his room and watch whatever cheesy movie you wanted, you couldn’t stay mad at him for long.
And, when you looked up at him through your eyelashes, your eyes all big and doe-like, a small smile curling across your face, he decided that he wanted you to look at him like that all of the time. In his own sick, twisted way, he cared for you. More than he could ever be willing to admit.
Then you left for college. Left him behind. Went away. Stopped being there for him.
He would never say it out loud, but he had missed you more than he could describe. The few holidays that you had and the occasional trips to sate his unexplainable urge to be around you every hour of every day.
After four long years, you finally came back for good. And he swore that he would never let you go. He threw the biggest party Boston had ever seen to celebrate you. And, when the night came to a close, he had the intent of asking you out, to make you his forever. But, when you fell into his arms, whispering about how this would ruin everything and that you should set boundaries, he said whatever it took to make you trust him. Even if it meant lying through his teeth that he only wanted you to be his fuck buddy.
It wasn’t what you wanted, he could tell that much, but he was in too deep to turn around now, to admit his feelings. Because, he wasn’t sure what his feelings were. He wasn’t sure if what he was feeling was love or if it was some desire to have everything in the world. Regardless, though, he was determined to never let you go.
So, when months later, you came to him, saying that you got a job in Los Angeles, he had to stop you. He should’ve been kinder, yes, but all that he could think of was that you were going to leave him. And he couldn’t let you leave. He got you a job at Blood Like Wine, making you promise that you wouldn’t go away. He couldn’t live with himself if he just let you leave. You had to stay, even if it meant giving up your dream job. That was the sacrifice he was willing to make.
You stayed by his side, coming whenever he called. If he wasn’t so selfish, he might’ve been more put off that you never called. Why did you never call? Were you not as invested? No, no you were. Why else would you always answer? Then, why? What stopped you from picking up the phone and asking for him?
He wanted to ask you, but he never did.
Instead, he took you out to another family gathering because, goddammit, he didn’t think he could survive another one of those. You accompanied him, putting up with his and his family’s bullshit, rolling with the punches like you had done on your playdates with him all those years ago. But then, on the way home, the careful façade he’d built was destroyed when you let slip that you loved him.
He should’ve been overjoyed. He should’ve been happy. He should’ve been asking you to be his girlfriend. But, a sort of iciness rushed through his veins at the words. How could you love him, Ransom Drysdale? How could you look at everything he’s done and decide that you love him? He couldn’t figure out why he felt this way, but all he could think to do was rip you to shreds and spit you back out. He yelled at you, he berated you, leaving you in tears to figure out your own way home.
If there was one thing Ransom Drysdale regretted, it was making you walk away.
Still, though, he tried to move on. Tried to forget you were ever part of his life. He found a new girl, a timid girl named Lizzie. She was sweet, she was kind. But she wasn’t you. He tried, though. He tried. He got her nice things, took her to wonderful places. But it wasn’t the same.
All he wanted was you.
So when you came knocking on his door, he should’ve been thrilled. He should’ve taken you in his, kissed you breathless, and said that you were the only woman for him. Instead, he only dug himself a deeper grave.
He could still hear the words echoing in his head, reminding him of the great pain he’d caused you.
“What, you thought I actually gave a shit about you?” he had laughed. “Petal, I never fucking liked you. If I had it my way, you never even would’ve gotten a chance to be, what, a friend? Is that what you thought we were? Friends?”
“We weren’t friends?” Your pretty eyes were all wide and full of tears that were ready to spill over. He wanted nothing more than to wipe them away as they fell, but he was too far gone.
“The only reason you were in my life was ‘cause my mom made you be, and by the time I had a choice about who I could be around, you’d already leeched yourself onto me.”
“God, stop fucking calling me that,” he said. Why was he saying this? Why was he lying to you? “I always fucking hated it when you called me that.”
“Oh? And what stopped you from telling me that all those years ago? You were never the type of person to just let something you didn’t like slide.”
“Oh, like you’d fucking listen. You were always such a dumb fucking bitch. Even if I told you to stop, you’d carry on like I hadn’t said shit.”
“That’s not true, and you know it!” you said, the tears starting to spill over. “The entire time I knew you, it was all about making you happy. Making you comfortable. Doing what you wanted. Never once did you give a shit about me, not even when you convinced me to be your fuck buddy. Everything was always on your fucking terms!”
“Yeah? And you know what? Fucking me was the only thing you were good for,” he spat. No, no, no, this wasn’t what he meant. Why was he saying this? You were wonderful. So intelligent, so kind. You were an angel in a world of demons. So why couldn’t he stop trying to put a damper on your shine?
“You’re just a fucking whore, and you couldn’t even do anything on your own. Everything you have is because of me. Your job, your home, your car—”
“You forced me to take that job!”
“I bet you couldn’t even have gotten into college if it hadn’t been your connections to me and my family,” he taunted. “Though I can’t take credit for your grades. Bet you had to sleep your way to the top to get those—”
“Fuck you, Ransom!”
“You already did, petal,” Ransom said. “And I’d happily let you back in my bed if it meant you’d shut your stupid fucking—”
He hardly knew what was happening, until his face started to sting and you looked at him like you couldn’t believe what had happened. His hand went to his face, touching the spot you hit. Had you really hit him? Had his docile little lamb actually hit him?
“Coming here was a mistake,” you said, looking away. “I…I’m sorry to have bothered you. I’ll see my way out.”
And as you walked away, he wanted to run away you. But he let you go, walking away from his life once more.
He had the intent of going back to your apartment, to apologize and grovel for your forgiveness. But when he arrived two weeks later, the apartment had been cleared out. Everything that was yours, everything that had made that space your own, was gone. Against his better judgement, he went to your neighbor, asked what happened.
You’d left. You left him.
You were gone.
He hired a private detective to find out where you were. It didn’t take long, admittedly. You hadn’t gone far. You’d left for New York, took a job at some fancy firm. That didn’t matter. What interested him, though, was how, months after him breaking your heart, you’d already moved on. He should’ve gone down sooner, taken you back for himself, but he found an odd sort of pleasure in seeing you move on. To see you in a happy, loving relationship. That could’ve been his. That should’ve been his. In another life, it might have been.
But, when he found out that you were moving in with Captain fucking America, he saw red. He had been so sure that you would come running back eventually. That you would come for him again. That you would realize that you weren’t really over him. But you never came. Because your heart didn’t belong to him anymore.
His anger only escalated with Lizzie came into this kitchen, her small hands rubbing her shoulders, as she cooed, “Hey, Ran, I know it’s hard now, but you’ll get over it in time. You don’t need her anymore. You have me.”
“Don’t you get it?!” he snarled, slamming the glass against the counter. “I don’t want you! You’re not the woman I want!”
She blinked slowly. “What...What are you talking about, Ran?”
“Don’t fucking call me that! You’re not the one who can call me that! You’re not her!”
“Her? Who’s her?”
“God, I knew you were slow, but I didn’t take you for completely stupid. Let me spell it out for you: You. Are. Not. Y/N.”
She licked her lips, her eyes falling to the floor. “I knew it. I knew you weren’t over her.”
“Then you should know that you should leave.”
“Go. I’ll have someone bring your shit back to you.” He reached for the bottle, pouring himself another shot. “I don’t ever want to see you again. Understood?”
She didn’t say another word. Instead, she turned, trying to hide her tears, as she walked out of his home and out of his life. If he was a good man, he would’ve ran after her, wiped her tears away, try to explain the situation more gently. But Ransom Drysdale was not a good man. And he would never waste attempts at goodness on someone who wasn’t you, the only angel to have ever been in his life.
He knew what he had to do. He had to win you over again.
He could only hope he didn’t mess it up again.
But that was what he was good at. And he wasn’t anywhere close to changing his ways.
It went worse than he ever could’ve imagined. He thought you would fall into his arms. He never thought you’d fight back, twist his own words again him, and throw him to the curb. You weren’t his anymore, and he knew that now.
He stopped keeping tabs on you after that. Perhaps there was some truth in the saying, if you love something set it free—if it comes back, it was yours; if it doesn’t, it never was. He hoped you would come back. But he'd kicked you out of his life too many times for you to even think of returning to him.
Then he heard from his mother that you were getting married, that you’d sent out invitations. He hadn’t gotten one. He hadn’t expected to get one. But, when he looked at the fancy paper, the way your name looped around Steve’s, his heart ached.
He almost went back to New York, track you down and get down on his knees for you. But he knew better now.
For the first time ever, he let things be. He let you have your life. You weren’t his anymore, and acknowledging that hurt more than potentially being rejected by you once more.
But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.
The only thing Ransom Drysdale ever regretted was losing you, and now he had to forever live with the consequences of his actions.
It was what he deserved.
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Being an FBI agent and working with Benoit Blanc would include...
• While you may not be able to follow all the intellectual parts of what he does, Blanc really appreciates your help in the technical department.
• Your experience with the crime world and the fact that you carry a gun is certainly an advantage when dealing with more dangerous murderers. He tracks them down, and you make sure he doesn't get killed in the process.
• Of course, he's such a gentleman, and you're much more scrappy. While he plays chess with killers, you're more inclined to shoot them from across the table.
• But like any other investigator, you love watching Benoit work. His technique is fine-tuned and is fascinating to you. It's amazing to watch him work through problems, whether it's a loud-ranting-to-the-void case, or a smoking-a-cigar-in-a-quiet-corner one. His deliberate, intellectual approach to things betrays his genius.
• Sometimes, though, you get impatient, and want to start busting down doors. Blanc is quick to remind you that in order for his plan to work, he needs you to follow along. You'll grumble under your breath, and the corner of his mouth will turn up.
• The man is a GENTLEMAN. Like, a real, bona fide gentlemen. He's quick to open doors for you, offer his coat, or hold his arm out to escort you across the street. Naturally, he respects you a lot (and is a little scared of you, too) so he'll let you open your own doors when you're on a case, but he can't help taking your jacket for you when you come over to his house to discuss the way things are unfolding.
• Benoit loves to talk everything over with you. Hear what you have to say. Even if it's a really stupid, half-baked theory, it'll get discussed. Open communication is very important to him on a case, even if he's the one who will always come up with the solution in the end. He just likes to involve you.
• Like I said before, you'll meet at his house during and after cases to discuss everything. Blanc would never directly invite you into his house (he wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable) but you sort of invited yourself one night when you got a lead, and the tradition has continued ever since. (He's still not sure how you found his address.)
• These meetings usually take place over food, which is haphazardly dropped on top of papers and manila folders. Benoit insisted on cooking the first few times, but when you really get into a case, there's no time to make a whole meal. Takeout is the go-to for most lunches and dinners because of this, but if you ever plan a breakfast meeting in advance, you better believe Benoit Blanc pulls out all the stops and makes the most delicious southern breakfast you've ever had.
• You roll your eyes at the meal made for a queen but you love it.
• All-in-all, though you two are very different, the private detective and the FBI agent get along very well.
Bonus! What if Benoit Blanc happens to have some feelings for this agent?
• Benoit is all about openness, but is too professional and gentlemanly to ask you out while on a case. And cases, unfortunately, are when you spend the most time together.
• He hopes that maybe holding the door for you or offering his jacket will convey his intentions, but you can't tell his normal sweet behavior from flirting.
• Of course, professionalism aside, some things slip out.
"My word, you do look beautiful with your hair down!"
And you blush like crazy every time.
• He saves a few small momentos from your cases together, so occasionally when you visit you'll glance at his refrigerator and see pictures taken in a photo booth that you two were using to spy on a suspect, or a paper umbrella from the drinks you had on the night you went swing dancing at the restaurant undercover. He knows you see them on the fridge, but you never bring it up.
• Blanc wouldn't want to make a move until he felt sure you also harbored affection for him. Ruining a friendship/professional connection would be a poor decision.
• So it's not until one night, when you're on a stakeout watching a hotel and eating fries and he gets some ketchup on his face and you smile and lean over, napkin in hand, and you wipe it gently off his face, that he decides it's game on.
Let the real flirting commence :)
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she gets the flowers: a love that is… (6) ✧ ransom drysdale & steve rogers
she gets the flowers ✧ a ransom drysdale series | taglist | ao3
pairing: ransom drysdale x fem!reader; steve rogers x fem!reader
summary: ransom isn’t ready to let you go, but you’re not his anymore.
word count: 1,232
warning(s): uh oh ransom reappears, also happy ending!!
From that moment forward, yours and Steve’s relationship went better than you ever could have imagined. As was the case in any relationship, you still had a few bumps in the road, but it was clear now that Steve wasn’t going to leave you. Not now, not anytime soon. And you made it clear that you were in it with him for the long haul. You worked through your problems together, became a real sort of team that was learning how to navigate life together. And you loved every single second of it.
It’d been nearly a year since that day when you really let yourself open to Steve, and now the two of you were moving in together. You’d found a nice place in Brooklyn with plenty of room to grow, if that’s what you guys chose to do. Everything was going so wonderfully. You were really building a life together, and you knew that there was no other person you’d rather do that with than Steve.
But, for all of the sunshine in the world, there still had to be some storm clouds along the way.
You just never thought Ransom fucking Drysdale would be the one to darken your doorstep.
When you heard the knock on the door and opened the door to find him there, you could hardly shake off the shock. Who the fuck did he think he was? What right did he have to come to your—hey! What that the fuck was he doing walking into your home without so much as a hello?
“I made a mistake,” he said before you could say anything. “I should’ve never let you go. You’re a goddamn treasure, and I should’ve cherished you while I had you.”
“You never had me, Hugh.”
He blinked, then chuckled. “That’s not my name, petal. That’s not what you call me.”
“You made it abundantly clear you didn’t like that name,” you said. “Just like how you made it clear that you didn’t like me. That you never had, and that you never would. Why are you even here? I recall you telling me to get the fuck out of your life. I kept up my end of that, and you need to do the same.”
“Petal, I told you. I made a mistake—”
“Angel? Who’s at the door?”
Oh, Steve. Your knight in shining armor.
“What? This the guy you left me for?” Ransom scoffed. “Petal, he’s not good enough for you—”
“He’s a helluva lot better than you,” you said. “And you have no right to determine what’s good for me.”
Steve came up behind you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you against his chest. “Angel, who is this?”
“The bastard from Boston.”
“Oh, so you told him about me, petal? I’m flattered.” His eyes flicked up to Steve. “Did she tell you all our dirty little secrets? Tell me, does she still scream like a whore when—”
“Leave,” Steve said, his voice firm, the same kind of tone he’d use on new recruits. He had no interest in entertaining whatever bullshit Ransom had to say. From everything you’d told him about that man, he knew that he reveled in getting a rise out of people. But Steve was not going to give him that satisfaction, not when that bastard hurt you so bad.
But Ransom wasn’t the kind of man to take orders. Instead, he sized Steve up, squaring his shoulders and sneered, “Oh? And who are you to tell me what to do? Some relic of the past? What’d ever make you think she’d love some washed up has-been like you?”
If his words had an effect on Steve, he didn’t show it. “I know she loves me. I listen to her. I’m there for her, for better or for worse. When she has a good day, I’m cheering her on. When she has a bad one, I’m there to comfort her. I don’t let her go to bed upset. When she has something to say, I make sure I pay attention. I don’t hold her back. I don’t clip her wings to force to be on the ground with me. If she wants to do something, I don’t stand in the way. I get her flowers.”
Ransom only scoffed. “You know, she’s gonna come crawling back to me eventually. She’s gonna realize she made a huge mistake in turning me down. She’s gonna regret it.”
“No, the only thing I regret is thinking I loved you,” you said, staring Ransom down. “I believe Steve told you to leave. I think it’d be best if you listened to him.”
“Oh, petal, you don’t mean—”
“DON’T CALL ME THAT!” you snapped. You clenched your fists, trying to steady your breathing. “You don’t get to call me pet names, act like you’d been anything other than an ass to me. You were fucking dick to me, and you don’t get to act like you’re here to make things better. You knew I was happy, I’m sure you knew I was happy, but you weren’t. And you just wanted to drag me back down to your level ‘cause you could never stand to see me be my own person. Well, you’re not gonna get that. Not anymore. I’m not your doll to play with anymore. And I never should’ve been yours in the first place. Now, Steve told you to leave. And I’m saying the same thing: Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. My. House. Forget you knew I existed. I don’t ever wanna see you again. And I mean that.”
“You heard her,” Steve said before Ransom could protest. “Get the fuck out of here before you’re gonna have a few regrets.”
Ransom huffed, ready to argue, but when he saw the murderous glint in Steve’s eyes, he didn’t press further. Instead, he turned on his heel, stomping out of your home like he was a toddler about to throw a tantrum, and slammed the door shut.
When he was gone, Steve spun you around and made you look up at him. “Angel, you know I love you, right?”
“Because I do love you, and I never want to see you hurt,” he said. “If what that bastard did bothered you, just tell me and I’ll track him down and give him a piece of my mind.”
You smiled. “No, you don’t need to do that. He…He doesn’t bother me anymore. I got to say my piece, and now I’m over it. He means nothing to me, and someone who means nothing to me can’t hurt me.”
“Well, you know you can tell me—”
“I know, baby boy,” you said, leaning up to kiss him. “But I’d rather not think of him anymore. I got a nice big home that I think we need to get well acquainted with.”
He gave you a big grin. “Oh, you thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”
“Mm, I don’t know, baby boy, why don’t you find out?” you teased, pulling out of his arms, giggling, as you raced to the bedroom with him hot on your heels.
Yeah. Yeah, this was the love you deserved. A love that was patient, kind, and understanding. A love that meant something. A love that was reciprocated. A love that belonged to you and Steve.
After all, he’s the one who gets you flowers.
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Hi! I know you only just posted it but would it be possible to request 33&36 from the prompts with Ransom please?❤️
A/N: Thank you for your patience on this one, i really hope when you read it that it was worth the wait. Also thank you for requesting in the first place, it means a lot that people ask me to write fics for them.
Prompt #33: "Pushing back against my fingers already? How pathetic"
Prompt #36: "You'd better watch your fucking mouth"
Disclaimer: My work is not to be translated or to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.
Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Fem!Reader
Warning: Smut! Unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, swearing, daddy kink, implied alcohol consumption and use of the word slut/degradation. 18+ everyone....
Word Count: 2,191
GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @twerkforambrose go check them out 💕
Your Filthy Addiction
Five more minutes, you’re going to give that arrogant son of a bitch five more minutes before you toss the food you’d made earlier. You’ve spent all dam day slaving away in that kitchen of yours to make sure Ransom had a decent home cooked meal to come back to after a long day working with Harlan, and what does he do? He doesn’t even show up.
You might love him but if you didn’t get annoyed at least once a day with him then life wouldn’t be right. He’s always doing something to mess you around.
And today is testament to that, it’s testament to the fact that no matter how hard he tries, he just can’t help but let you down. Maybe now you’ve had enough of sitting idly by and letting him walk all over you.
So when he eventually stumbles into the house, his tipsy state as clear as day, your cage is well and truly rattled.
“Where the hell have you been?” you snap, standing in front of him with your hands placed firmly on your hips as you take in his flustered cheeks. He’s very drunk indeed, probably due to the bottomless Jameson supply at the bar across town.
You’ve tried your hardest for years ever since the night you first met Ransom to help him with his obvious drinking problem but to no avail. And now you see why your solutions to his problems never worked, it was because despite his constant complaining about said problems, he loves having just a tiny bit of conflict in his life. Mostly with his good for nothing family who only treat him like dirt. But he gives as good as he gets, always has and always will.
“I was just out with Harvey” the way his shoulders move up as he shrugs only seems to bother you all the more. His lack of care for his actions have always created issues for your relationship but this takes the cake.
To some, your pouty and bratty behaviour may seem pathetic and unnecessary, but to you it’s more than him missing dinner. It’s about the fact that he always seems to let you down, over and over.
“Oh so you prefer his company over mine then? Because i made us a lovely meal so that we could eat together after a week of not being able to and this is the thanks i get? For my so called boyfriend to be swanning off with the master of one night stands” your voice is low, your stare dark and angry, your stance even more so and he can definitely see how badly he’s fucked up.
However, if you know Ransom well enough, then you can certainly see his change in attitude coming a mile off.
“You’d better watch your fucking mouth” he barks, his finger pointed directly in your face as he stalks closer to you. You find yourself stepping back, intimidation controlling you.
“Or what? You gonna make me? Judging by the way you’ve been acting you don’t have a leg to stand on” you say matter of factly as you shake your head in disgust at his nerve. How dare he boss you around when he’s the one who’s been out of line all this time.
“Maybe i will” he pokes his chin out as he stands tall, hands by his sides. He looks awfully confident as he inches closer. His index finger slips underneath your chin as he forces you to look directly into his menacing eyes.
You feel your breath catch in this moment. The knowledge of him doing whatever he wants to do to you just because he can is causing your entire body to shiver with anticipation. Despite how he makes you feel sometimes, you’re a sucker for him and everything he does.
He says jump, you say how high.
“What?” you murmur, wanting him to use his words just like he always makes you do.
“I said, maybe i will make you. Bet you’d love that, slut” you wince at the horrid nickname. It’s moments like these when you always try your hardest to avoid thinking about how his degradation of you makes you feel, your mind is objecting but your body is giving him the green light.
How is that?
How does he always manage to do that?
Must be some kind of mind control as you absentmindedly follow him through to the kitchen, his hand barely holding onto your own.
Before you can even make sense of things, he pushes you over the kitchen counter forcefully.
His hands splay across your ass cheeks as he lifts your dress up, bunching it at your waist before yanking your ruined panties down your bare legs. Next thing you know his fingers are toying at your dripping wet hole.
“Would ya look at this...you can try all you like to act up sweetheart, but you and i both know why this cunt of yours is soaked”
There he goes again, spewing filth to get you to give up the jig. You know you have to remain strong and stable but it’s so hard to do that when he....wait! Is he inserting his fingers? Fuck, they are so thick inside of you and two already? He must be a mind reader to know how this makes you feel, he must know what gets you keening because now here you are pushing back on them like a needy little brat.
“Pushing back on my fingers already? How pathetic” he tuts, his tone mocking as he chuckles a little. Still, his fingers remain as they twist and turn inside of you, scissoring you open before he adds a third.
Fuck, this is delicious torture. The man you’re supposed to be mad at but you can’t bring yourself to be when he makes your body feel so good.
The undeniable and powerful pleasure that he provides is just too good to quit. You could never let him go even if you actively tried to which by the way, you’ve attempted it a hundred times at least.
But every time you try he just lures you back in with his sexual prowess, his high libido and those dashing good looks. His sweet talk isn’t too bad either.
When will you ever learn to strengthen yourself up and walk away? Because he’s never going to change but oh shit, the way he’s pumping his fingers in and out rapidly is enough to cause the coil in your stomach to tighten one last time.
You move to meet his fingers, hips gyrating in circular motions slowly as you reach your hand between your legs.
Of course he pushes you hand away, insisting on using his own. His thumb presses down on your pulsating clit and the breathy groans that are escaping him let you know that he can sense your impending orgasm.
“Come on, baby. Cum for daddy” he urges, rubbing firm circles on you clit as his fingers curl inside of you, pushing against that spongy spot deep within. The one that will have you seeing stars in, 3...2...1.
“FUCK RANSOM” you scream out, hands gripping the kitchen counter so hard that it turns your knuckles white, his fingers continue to drive into you over and over as he rides you through your intense high.
“That’s my girl, just like that. Let go, baby” you can hear the smirk in his voice, the smugness he feels knowing that yet again he’s prevented you from walking away.
He’s convinced you to stay just by pleasuring you with his filthy touch, his sinful thick digits.
You may be weak, but with a man this good, a man capable of making your pretty little pussy cum over and over, why would you want to be anything else?
As soon as you come down from the high, you stand up, straightening your posture as you turn around to face him. The proud look covering his face lets you know that it’s all a game to him.
You pull your dress back down so that it’s covering up your modesty before pulling your panties up.
“What’s wrong, sad eyes?” he pokes, his hands resting either side of the counter, caging you in.
“You know what. You can’t just keep using sex to keep me around, Ransom” you huff in defeat, bothered by your lack of strong will.
“Sure i can, and what’s more, you’re gonna enjoy it too” he raises his eyebrows as he spins you back around, keeping your back arched by yanking your head backwards.
Every inch of your skin turns to gooseflesh as he trails his finger down the curve of your back before reaching your tail bone and pushing your dress up. He undoes the belt around his slacks before popping open the button and slipping them down along with his boxers, freeing his erection from its tight confines.
He slips your arousal covered panties to the side before smothering his eager red tip in your mouth watering pussy juices. Once he catches on your entrance he slams inside of you, but before you can jerk forward he hooks his arm into both of yours as he holds them behind you firmly.
You can never leave him, even if you truly wanted to, you’re stuck in an ongoing loop of orgasms and rough sex.
A frantic whimper slips off your tongue as his pace now renders on animalistic, hard and fast, just the way you both like it.
Of course the real pleasure comes from the slow and hard thrusts, the ones where he gently pokes at your g spot as he lays on top of you. Your legs wrapped around him, his face in the crook of your neck. But now is not the time for gentle and slow, now is the time for rushed and needy.
He’s desperate to achieve that orgasm just as much as he is to provide one for you. To feel your legs shaking as your head lulls back to rest on his chest, eyes rolling to the back of your head, it’s something he can never and will never get enough of. The way your walls are clamping down on him right now should be illegal as he can feel his balls tighten with the impending release.
“Fuck. Keep tightening those walls baby, let yourself go. Just. One. Last. Time” his voice desperate as his breathing turns ragged, matching yours. Your chest starts to rise and fall before your head falls back to rest on his chest just like he loves. He can feel your entire body tremble in his hold as he loosens his grip and pushes you over the counter.
“Gonna fucking cum, deep inside of this pussy. Gonna fill you up with my cum, baby” he growls, his voice deeper than before. He’s so painfully close, as are you.
And as you flutter around him one last time, he spills his load inside of you, causing you to stand up onto your tip toes with your head pressed into the marble counter.
He paints your walls with thick white ropes before twitching as he slows down his thrusts, then he stills his hips.
All that can be heard in this kitchen is heavy panting before the sound of your pussy squelching as he pulls out distracts you. He pulls his slacks back up, making quick work of his zip, button and belt whilst you toss your panties into the hamper by the laundry room and pull your dress back down before heading up to your bedroom.
New panties are a must.
“Now do you get it?” he asks, leaning on the open doorway to your room and causing you to turn and face him once your fresh panties are on.
“Your mine and you always will be, until i say otherwise” he states, shocking you.
“I’m not your property, Ransom”
“Oh but you are, those soaked panties in that hamper prove it. So get used to it, because you’re never leaving me, especially not now”
You’re well and truly fucked... held captive by his intoxicating smell, intimidating demeanour and his undeniable skills in the bedroom.
Guess you should have known from the day you first met Hugh Ransom Drysdale that you’d never make it out alive if you were to run.
But the real question is, do you even want to leave him? He’s everything you detest but still you stay and continue to crave more of him.
And the answer to that question would be no, no you wouldn't want to leave.
He may be a prick, an arrogant asshole and a cocky son of a bitch but he is an addiction...your filthy addiction, and you wouldn’t have it or him any other way.
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Y’all might be getting a Ransom one shot. I know I have stories I need to update, but my brain is one shot central right now 🙃🙃🙃 it’s also 4:24am and I’m drunk. We’ll see how I feel later lmaoo
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It’s Over | Ransom Drysdale
A/N: So this is a fic i’ve had written up for a year, yet i never bothered to upload because i didn’t think it was good enough. But after re reading, editing over it and finally feeling like it is good enough, here it is...
Also i have another writing challenge coming out soon as part of @afriendlyblackhottie ‘s 2k challenge and sooner than that i have a Nomad Steve request on the way too. So please keep an eye out for those.
Disclaimer: My work is not to be translated or to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.
Summary: Ransom has broken your heart for the last time.
Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Mentions of cheating, swearing, mentions of sex and heavy angst. Not many. 18+
Word Count: 2,304
GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @ed-gamble go check them out💕
Weeks of fighting and awkward silences.
Weeks of sleeping back to back without even so much as a ‘goodnight’ or a ‘love you’ before the two of you dozed off.
And now you’ve had enough.
Being with him was draining all of your energy, he was sucking all of the life out of you like a vampire sucks blood from a human, still you stay.
But why do you stay? With a man who has no care for your feelings or care of how much he’s breaking your heart into a million more pieces as each day goes by.
He quite literally disregards you and all of that the second you call him out on his actions, his infidelity.
It all started a month ago, when you and Ransom had made it to your 3 years year anniversary. Everyone had been pestering him with questions on how he managed to keep a woman like you. You’d wave them off and giggle as he told them “it’s easy to keep a woman when you figure out all she wants is food, sex and just to be treated with respect” of course he always mentioned sex. It’s his thing, his addiction.
It’s also what led you to the position you’re in now.
It was the night of that party, you had one too many porn star martinis and he had barely been drinking. He watched you let loose on the dance floor, his dick hardened a the sight of his girlfriend of 3 years. The woman he ultimately wanted to marry. Of course, that was then, a huge difference to the reality you’re now living.
Once he dropped you home to the house you shared, his house originally. He informed you that he was going to his study to do some work, you mumbled I love you’s and goodnights to him as you drifted off, barely registering his words.
You were blissfully unaware of what would later be the reason that you are now on the edge of a mental breakdown.
You awoke to find that the space next to you in the bed hadn’t been slept in, it was cold so you scooted off the bed and wondered down the stairs.
“Ransom” you called out, your voice hoarse as you continued to call his name and look around. But you couldn’t find him anywhere so you started calling his phone, no answer.
Time was ticking by, seconds to minutes and minutes to hours. You couldn’t bring yourself to eat or get dressed as you called and worried for your boyfriend.
Just as you were about to call the police, you heard the door open and slam shut.
Ransom stumbled in, shirt untucked, the top few buttons undone and his hair a mess.
“Where have you been?” you sighed, rushing into his arms to pull him into a tight embrace but as soon as you did, that’s when you smelt it, another woman’s perfume. And when you pulled away you saw another thing, red lipstick on his collarbone.
“What’s that, did I get lipstick on you last night?” you tried to laugh it off but it was no use.
He just stood there, head bowed. Almost like he was ashamed. But if you knew Ransom like you thought you did, then you’d know that he wasn’t ashamed.
Surely he could never feel anything if that’s how he chose to treat you after having you in his life all those years.
You just backed away from him, your faked naïve smile and words faded. You just shook your head as he looked at you.
And in that moment. You knew, that he had cheated.
You tried to forgive him, you tried until you felt sick of trying. He begged you that morning, to forget it, telling you that it was just a slip up.
He went back out with the guys as soon as he put you to bed and he had a couple of drinks. He told you he wanted to make sure you had fun before he did because you had a stressful week at work. But as soon as your fun was over, his had just begun.
You didn’t scream, or yell, or even try to fight him when he revealed the events and how they unravelled. You just stood there, numb to it all. It’s like it went in one ear and out the other.
It was all good with forgiving at first, you were doing okay. You were just about coping until new accusations came to light.
Your phone lit up as a new message on Instagram came through. A message from a woman, a model.
This isn’t going to be easy to say but It’s best that I tell you
So that you’re aware.
I met Ransom on a night out last Saturday, we got to talking, flirting even.
He made some comments about how I looked in my dress
of course I enjoyed the attention.
We eventually got past the point of tipsy, I kissed him, he kissed me back
and we almost went back to my place.
But I shut it down, I had work the next day
and a son at home that I didn’t want witnessing anything.
He asked for my number, so I gave it.
Only after he left the bar, was I informed about you.
He was acting single the whole night
I’m sorry about all of this and for even playing into it
but at the time I didn’t know about you but I’m still deeply sorry.
I hope you’ll find the time to really think about all of this. You deserve better.
I wish you all the best.
You can feel your heart plummeting, It’s sinking faster and faster and you can’t control it. You suddenly can’t breathe, your air flow is restricted as all of the promises he made feel fake. Everything about him, fake. All of the kisses to your forehead, the morning cuddles and mumbled I love you’s, all fake. He was no longer yours.
He was changing before your eyes.
After you agreed to put his ‘mistake’ behind you and move forward, he was acting different, more affectionate.
Your brain naturally raced through the events of last Saturday. And now that you think about it, he came back around midnight that night, stumbling into your shared bedroom and waking you up. He kept on kissing you until you eventually turned around.
And when you did he crashed his lips to yours, pulled your body flush against his. Large calloused hands touching you everywhere, not a single spot abandoned.
“God I want you so bad” he groaned, getting off the bed to undress whilst you slid your panties off. He wasted no time in pushing into you, you gasped at the stretch and feel of him.
It was the first time you had been intimate with him since the cheating scandal.
“So god dam sexy. I fucking love you so much Y/N. You know that right?” he murmured frantically, his face buried in the crook of your neck as he dragged his cock in and out slowly, at a romantic pace. It felt amazing. You couldn’t control your moans as he continued until you were both just a panting mess on the bed.
You feel sick now just thinking about it. All those words. Fake. You could have been anyone to him at that point.
Unless the reason for the slow and romantic sex was because he had realised, he’d taken another woman’s number, kissed another woman and almost had sex with another woman. He felt bad, maybe?
You laugh as that thought quickly dissolves. Ransom Drysdale, feeling bad? No chance. He doesn’t have it in him.
If there was any trace of a working heart or even a soul inside of him then he would have thought everything through before he did any of this.
The front door opens and shuts “sweetheart, guess what I got for u-“ his voice trails off once he spots you, tears sliding down your cheeks, phone on the coffee table.
He rushes over “what’s wrong baby?” you stand up and shove the phone into his chest, letting him clutch it before you rush up the stairs.
Clothes are being shoved into an old duffle bag, your toothbrush too. All of your belongings in fact, well the ones that are most important for now that is.
“She’s lying baby, I wasn’t even at a bar last Saturday” after everything that’s happened, 3 years of happy memories and he still thinks he can lie to your face.
“Don’t fucking bullshit me. I’ve had it Ransom. I’ve had enough. I thought we were moving past all of that but you’re doing it again. Not even a month after the last time”
He started pulling clothes from your bag, preventing you from leaving “Ransom, let me go” you choke, tears flooding your eyes as you start sobbing.
“I love you. Please. Don’t leave me” you shake your head in response “you’ve gone too far. That’s twice now. Twice. You know you came home that night and fucked me right? Was I some last resort because you couldn’t have that blonde woman? The second best choice?” he grabs a hold of your hands. Denying everything.
“You’re never second best. Ever. You’re all I want. Please”
“Then why Ransom? Why after 3 years have you done this? You’ve done nothing but shatter my heart. I don’t understand how after everything we’ve been through that I still clearly mean nothing to you”
“You mean everything to me”
“Then why the fuck would you kiss some other girl, screw another girl and then attempt it again, even after I forgave you?” he just shrugs, no answer.
“FUCKING ANSWER ME YOU SELFISH PRICK” his head shoots up, you never shout.
You start pushing him until his legs hit the bed and he falls on it. You hit out at his chest, punching at it as you cry.
He wraps his arms around you, stilling your movements.
“Shh, come here. I’m sorry” he coos, but that’s a lie. He’s not sorry and it’s unforgivable this time.
“No, let go of me” he doesn’t, his grip tightens. His strength is no match for you.
Seconds later you look into his eyes. His gaze flicks over your face before landing on your lips.
He wastes no time in taking them, biting and sucking as he waits for your guard to fall.
You can’t stand how good he makes you feel. How well he knows you and your body.
You moan, your mouth hangs open and he takes the opportunity. You give in, kissing him with the biggest amount of hatred and an equal amount of passion.
“Please don’t leave me” he begs as he lays you down on the bed, his mouth all over your neck before he slowly moves to your chest.
You arch your back to let him remove the white shirt.
He’s like a drug that you can’t quit but you need to. However that’s when you come back to reality.
“Stop, stop” you mumble, pushing him off and moving off the bed.
“I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep letting you fix things with sex. It’s not working” you stand tall, although it’s crushing you inside. You put the shirt back on, continuing to pack. This time he just sits there, watching.
“You don’t love me Ransom”
“What are you talking about? Of course I do”
“If you really loved me, you wouldn’t even need to look at other women and as much as that hurts, it’s the truth. I can’t keep staying here, putting it behind us and pretending like it didn’t happen”
“I know I’ve fucked up okay bu-“
“But nothing Ransom. I need to go. I’m gonna stay with my parents for a couple of days. I need to get away from you” you zip the bag up and head downstairs, he follows closely behind.
“I’m begging you, please”
Even now, his tears are fake, crocodile tears. He doesn’t love you and he never did. He just loved how familiar you were, how attentive you were to him. You were always there when shit hit the fan and it was convenient.
“It’s over. I have to go Ransom. I’ll be back at some point to get everything else” he tugs at your arm but you rip it away and leave.
You toss the bag into the trunk of your car before getting in and speeding off, away from him.
What Ransom would never tell anyone is that he does love you. He wasn’t lying when he spoke those words. He meant them.
But deep down, he’s messed up.
All the hurt that he’s caused, all the pain. He’s ashamed of it but he can’t help himself. There is some part of him that never felt good enough for you. So his eyes wondered. He buried his insecurities and went with other women. He needed a reminder, that he still had the looks and the charm to get other women and by proving that, he lost the one woman that he wanted to be with forever...you.
General Tags: @deadlymistress24 @coffeebooksandfandom @chris-butt @holtzkinnon @mychemicalimagines @llamadelreyx @haus-of-bitch-talk @buckstaybucky @thewinchestergirl1208 @chrissquares @patzammit @dummiesshort @cevans-fics @americasass91 @toni9 @aaliferous @bradfordmyworld @thereisa8ella @candlefics @yassspose @randomsevans @fanficforfun
Just Chris & Characters Tags: @onetwo3000 @sheofthegarden @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @mrsbbarnesrogers @princess-evans-addict @stxvercgersslut @chris-evanslover @bval-1 @thejemersoninferno @denisemarieangelina @janeyboo @evansphnx12 @dwights-new-plague @whxre4cevans @cherry-gemz
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DISCLAIMERS: some of the following works are 18+ and should not be consumed by minors. by clicking any of the following links, you are agreeing that you are eighteen or older. i am not liable for any of the content that you consume, you are. be responsible & happy reading! -- any and all possible triggers are tagged accordingly and listed in the warnings on each post. please read them before continuing.
ransom tells his lawyer!gf about what he did
[ forget them. ] after ransom’s family gives you a hard time, he makes up for it • angst, fluff, minors DNI •
[ another love. ]
[ deals & decisions. ]
[ little red dress. ]
[ locked out. ]
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she gets the flowers: hard to handle (5) ✧ ransom drysdale & steve rogers
she gets the flowers ✧ a ransom drysdale series | taglist | ao3
pairing: ransom drysdale x fem!reader; steve rogers x fem!reader
summary: shit gets hard.
word count: 1,114
warning(s): reader gets insecure, some self-sabotage with the relationship but it ends well
Steve Rogers loves you. Steve Rogers loves you. Steve Rogers loves you. Steve Rogers loves you…right? Why does it feel like he was suddenly going to turn against you? Tell you that he never really liked you? That he was just using for a fun time and now the fun was over? But Steve wasn’t like that. Steve wasn’t like that. Steve wasn’t like that. He was not Ransom Drysdale. He never was, and he never will be. But, still, why did it feel like you needed to build all of your walls back up?
It seemed that, even when Ransom had long since left your life, he still had an iron grip on you.
The first few months of your relationship with Steve went…so well. It was perfect, really. He listened to you. He cared for you. He treated you as an equal. But there was some part of you that was so scared that it was all conditional on…something. What that thing was you’d never know, but you were so sure that he would just wake up on one day, turn on you, and cast you to the side. That you’d have fallen for another man who would never love you, and you’d be back to picking up the shattered pieces of your heart.
So you found yourself unintentionally pushing him out before he could do the same. You got short with him, gave quick answers to his questions. Never really told him how you felt. Put off dates and, during the ones you did go on, you just couldn’t put your heart in them. Not when you were convinced he’d take that very same heart, crumble it up, and dump it in the trash.
And, Steve, he never understood why. He couldn’t even begin to understand why his angel was pushing him out of her life. Had…Had he done something wrong? Had he asked the wrong question? Had he said something out of line? Had he not shown you enough love? He tried to make up for whatever he did by being extra sweet to you, but that seemed to only make things worse. Only made you build your walls up even higher. What…What had he done? And what could he do to fix it?
He didn’t want to lose you.
He loves you.
One day, he showed up to your apartment, ready to get answers. He couldn’t live like this anymore. He had to know what he did so he could fix it. He wasn’t going to lose you over something he didn’t understand. He made a commitment to you, and he was going to make things right.
When you answered the door, though, you didn’t seem happy to see him. You never really seemed happy anymore. “Steve?” you asked. “What’re you doing here?”
“Needed answers, angel,” he said as you let him inside. “Why’re you shuttin’ me out?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Angel, your heart’s not been in this relationship for weeks now, and I can’t understand why. I don’t…I don’t know what I did, but I wanna fix this. You mean so much to me, and if I’ve hurt you—”
“You haven’t hurt me,” you said quickly. Then, quieter, like you didn’t want him to hear: “Not yet, anyways.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, his brows furrowing together. Had he given some indication that he was gonna hurt you? Because that was never his intent, and he had no clue what had given you such an idea.
“I mean, I know things just don’t…go like this. Things aren’t this easy,” you explained. “Sooner or later, you’re gonna realize I’m not the one for you and you’re gonna leave, and I don’t think I can handle that. No, I know I can’t handle that. I can’t fix my heart again if you break it. And the only way I know I won’t get hurt is if—”
You cut yourself off with a sob, and Steve quickly pulled you into his arms. He rubbed your back, shushing you as you cried. “Angel, is there something that’s happened that you haven’t told me? ‘Cause I promise you, if someone hurt you like that before, I’d never do the same to you. I can promise you that, angel, and I mean it.”
When your sobs quieted enough for you to speak again, you said, “This guy…the ex that made me realize I needed to leave Boston…He just…I don’t know. He made me feel like shit. Called me so many name, berated me, made me feel like I was the scum on his shoe. But I was so sure I loved him, that he might’ve loved me, too. And when he did that, it just hurt in a way I can’t even begin to describe.”
Steve titled your chin up so you’d look at him, and his heart almost broke at the sight of your teary eyes. He just wanted to kiss all of your pain away, but first he had to make sure you know how he felt about you. “Angel, I’m not him. I’ll never hurt you like that. Even if we broke up, and I don’t ever want to, it won’t end like that. I love you too much to do that to you. You don’t have to build your walls up around me, and I’ll spend every day of the rest of my life trying to prove that to you. I love you for exactly who you are, and there’s nothing I’d change about you.”
“Well, maybe your last name, eventually, but that can wait for now,” he teased. “But, really, angel, you’re my girl, and I just wanna make you feel loved if you’ll let me. Will you let me?”
“Yeah, I’ll let you,” you said, your head falling back on his chest. “I’m sorry for acting like this.”
“It’s not your fault. I know how heartache can hurt and how it can make you do crazy things. While I wish you’d said something to me, I understand why you didn’t. But you did now, and we can work to make this better. I won’t just push you out ‘cause shit gets hard.”
And, though you still had doubts clouding your mind, you chose to believe him. Steve wasn’t Ransom after all. No, he was much better. He was the man you loved, and he loved you back just as much, if not more. He was the man who deserved your heart, and he was the man who’d make sure you never had to pick up shattered pieces of yourself ever again.
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