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foreversecrets · 1 year

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Disgruntled Drysdales

Rogers Family Expansion

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Victoria (OC)

Summary: Things were going great, he was preparing to say the "L' word, so naturally it was time for everything to go to shit.

Though they’d gotten off to a hesitant start, once they started cohabitating Ransom and Tori found themselves comfortable with one another. About six months in he was nearly ready to use the ‘L’ word. IT surprised him how easy it was to be a husband, especially when he didn’t work and his wife willingly took on the breadwinner role. Not that he was cooking or cleaning around the house like a proper house husband, he hired people to handle those responsibilities, but he made an effort to always be home before her so he could welcome her home and assist in her decompressing from work as well as kissing her goodbye every morning. It inadvertently made him live a healthier life, he wasn’t staying out all night getting drunk or stoned, his schedule was pretty lax but improvement nonetheless. He woke up to his wife off for the day with a kiss and a cup of coffee, breakfast at one of his many siblings homes, spend a few hours at the gym, lunch with his shitty mother and step or other members of the Thrombey Family, and then head home to be with Tori. That was another massive change for him, he genuinely cared about Tori’s well being and happiness which was reciprocated without requirements or terms. Tori's harsh exterior could melt away and become relaxed, even playful when it was just the two of them. He’d never admit it to his siblings but he was grateful to his family for forcing him into this arrangement.

Victoria found herself in similar musings, she’d loved her life before but there was something about knowing someone who cared for you at home waiting for you to unload day and unwind together. It didn’t matter the capacity, it could be chilling and watching television together or fucking the day away. It has surprised her to learn Ransom’s mommy issue had manifested as a kink, where this grumpy man turned into a bottom in the bedroom, something Victoria adapted to once she cleared the air about not wanting to actually become a mother. His relief and willingness to ensure they didn’t have kids but could play in the bedroom however they decided. It was the final nail in Tori’s coffin, she could no longer state she didn’t love her husband.

A year into marriage that happiness was threatened when Tori went to see the doctor. She had had a cold her doctor prescribed antibiotics for but a month later she was starting to feel sick again and was concerned something more serious might be wrong with her. As a concerned husband, Ransom accompanied her to the appointment where the doctor ordered some tests to be run.

“Good news, you aren't sick but you are pregnant,” the doctor's smile immediately dropped at the expecting parents' reactions. Ransom’s face reddened, his whole body tense while Tori was completely frozen, like she wasn’t present in the moment.

“I’m on birth control and we always use protection.”

“Birth control isn’t always 100%, it was probably negated by the antibiotics you were previously on. As for condoms: they break, they expire, they can be faulty, or applied correctly.”

“Ransom?” Tori looked up to her husband, fighting back angry tears that wanted to fall. But instead of receiving the supportive husband she needed, she was faced with the cold version of Hugh Drysdale, the man who was normally reversed for visits to his mothers family.

“What are our options?” There was no emotion in his voice as he put space between himself and Tori, like her condition was contagious and he’d catch it if he stood too close.

“Um … there’s-”

“Thank you for your assistance. I will be keeping my child.” Tori snapped, gathering her clothes, escaping from the examination room.

She found sanctuary in the restroom where she practically ripped the paper examine gown off, tossed it to the floor and collapsed on top of it finally letting her tears fall. Looking down at her flat stomach and crying even harder. How was this fair? Annie was actually trying to have a kid and it kept resulting in miscarriages not to mention the difficulties getting pregnant in the first place and here she was accidentally pregnant not knowing what to do. She knew what Ransom wanted, what they both had agreed on but that was no longer an option. Their family of two would never be that again, regardless of the decisions that followed. If she aborted or put the kid up for adoption she’d never have peace again she would be consumed with the what ifs and pain of terminating the pregnancy or full of concern over the child's life once she signed away her rights. She’d had students who made those choices and the mental turmoil they endured for months after the fact was ever prevalent in her mind, so no, she wouldn’t choose either of those options. They’d fucked up and now she would endure the consequences either with her husband or alone. Raising the kid herself she knew she had the financial means to provide for the kid and they would be given every opportunity to succeed.

Did she want to have a baby? No. Did she want to give it away? No. Did she want to terminate the pregnancy? No.

“Babe, open the door.” Ransom’s angry voice came through the door, snapping her out of her self pity. “We need to talk about this!”

No, she wasn’t ready to talk. She got dressed, washed her tear streaked face and exited the bathroom where Ransom was waiting for her. He opened his mouth to speak but she put her hand up to stop him. “Dont. I don’t want to talk about this right now. I’m still processing and your anger isn’t helping.”

“Of course I’m-”

She couldn’t handle him right now, she walked past him pulling out her phone and ordering an uber, Ransom trailed behind her. She’d handled him mad before, that was him anytime he was around his mother but right now she was vulnerable and full of her own self hate. She kissed his cheek throwing him off guard long enough for her to get into the uber and drive off.

She went to Juliana; she'd become close to the other mafia born wife of the Rogers since she herself joined the family given their commonalities in upbringing. Though the two of them were close but Jewls was unpredictable. She needed to talk to someone about the pregnancy that was objective, granted she didn’t know how Jewls would react but she was her best bet. None of the siblings had kids yet, with the exception of Frank and Daphne who were raising Mary so she could have theoretically gone to anyone but Annie and Steve. But she choose Jewls because of their connection and Ransom’s fear of the psycho woman who he was convince would one day murder him.

Jewls wasn’t expecting company but as always she welcomed Tori in with open arms, the two getting comfortable on the couch with a bottle of wine. The refusal of a wine glass sent Tori into a spiral as she confessed everything to her friend.

“You are the one who has to live with whatever decision is made and if Ransom fights you on it let me know.” Jewls put her hands together and wiggled her fingers. “Lloyd bought me a sexy new sniper, I’d be happy to give it a trail run on your husband.”

“You’re not killing my brother.” Lloyd signed entering the room with a bag of peanuts. He dropped a kiss to his wife's forehead and plopped down in the arm chair. “He occasionally deserves your ire but he is family.”

“Baby,” Jewls purred, an evil flint in her eyes. “How would you react if I said I was pregnant?”

Lloyd choked on the peanut he tossed in the air to catch with his mouth, Jewls bursting into laughter while Lloyd coughed and tried to dislodge the small nut from his esophagus. “I thought we agreed to wait, Princess?” Recovering from choking he didn’t give a shit about Tori seeing the softer side of himself he reversed solely for his wife.

“Relax, I’m not but your asshole brother blew up. You at least tried to be composed, whereas Ransom nearly demanded an abortion on the spot without even considering Tori.”

Relieved he wasn’t the problem he relaxed back into his chair as his wife had instructed. “Congrats?” he asked Tori. “Are we happy or not?”

“I don’t know,” she confessed, pressing on her temples to try and ease the stress headache that had formed.

“Well would you be okay killing it?” Lloyd asked simply, Tori shook her head. “What about having someone else raise it?” another head shake. “Well there you go mommy/”

“Gross, don’t call me that!” Tori groaned, finally laughing. “Only Ransom calls me that.”

It was Lloyd’s turn to cringe in disgust, “Great now I have to put a bullet in my head.”

“You set yourself up for that,” Jewls laughed. “You can stay here if you’d like tonight.”

“Thanks but I should go home and talk to Ransom, but I will probably be back.”

The Drysdale’s had had minor disagreements and spate throughout their marriage but never as bad as they fight that ensured that night when Tori returned home. She confided that she wasn’t happy about the situation but now that she was pregnant she was going to raise this child with or without him. Ransom’s choice taken from him without regard for his thoughts or arguments was reminiscent of how his family had treated him only enraging him further. It's like he could just not be involved, by the contact of their marriage they were required to reside together 8 months out of the year. And he was always home so that put the majority of the responsibilities on his shoulder. A point he mentioned that she wanted him to fulfill but his opposition had her countering with hiring a nanny.

That night Ransom slept on the couch, unable to reason or resolve things with his wife. Several weeks he spent sleeping on that couch he’d previously loved but now despised before they moved into a two bedroom place and Tori started sleeping on an air mattress in what would be the nursery, leaving their bed for him. His hard demeanor nearly cracked at the nonverbal act of care for his well being, even while their marriage was on the rocks. Then her baby bump began to show and his frustration was reinvigorated, his stubbornness winning out.

He found himself falling back into old habits of drugs and alcohol but try as he might, he couldn’t bring himself to revert into his manwhore ways. The thought of him sleeping with someone who wasn’t his wife was unappealing which left him unable to perform even while indulging in porn. Which was probably for the best, if their current estrangement could be overcome cheating would have ultimately been the straw to fully break their marriage.

Throughout Tori’s pregnancy his brothers and their partners were the ones to support and care for Tori, even trying to reason with Ransom but he was unphased.

It was during the third trimester he decided he didn’t want to lose Tori, he still wasn’t sure how to handle the baby situation but he decided to take things one step at a time. To get back into his wife's food graces he had Curtis assist him in preparing the nursery and building all the furniture Tori had ordered. In doing so, Ransom discovered he was having twin daughters. For the first time in his life, Ransom pushed past his anger and continued the task listening to his older brother for how Tori had wanted the nursery painted. Apparently the twins would be identical so in an effort to not confuse the two Tori had a set color scheme: baby 1 would be pink and green while baby 2 would be purple and yellow. Combinations he wouldn’t have personally chosen but then he saw the linens of soft yellows with lavender and then bubble gum pink with blue-green linens and found it worked.

The happiness on his huge wifes face as she waddled toward him and threw her arms around him have been the reward for his efforts. The night they resumed sleeping in their bed together, things weren’t as tense, their relationship was being repaired but Tori was mindful of his continued hesitance and tried to avoid discussing the topics. Ransom tried to be better, not able to stomach the idea of losing her. He would check in with her, rub her back, and assist her in shaving as she’d grown too big to do so herself.

It wasn’t until Tori finally gave birth and Ransom was holding one of his two daughters while Tori breastfed the other that a switch flipped within him. He suddenly found himself fully devoted to Sophia and Penelope Drysdale, the surge of bliss that filled his heart as he held his daughter brought tears to his eyes. Holding his daughter to his bare chest as Tori’s audio book had advised he felt the bond forming that it had said would, he knew he’d protect them even over his wife and himself. All it took was one look and one touch and he was at the mercy of the two girls who couldn’t even feed themselves. He was ready and willing to be the stay-at-home dad that Tori had initially wanted but now he was ready to be all in. So much that Tori couldn’t help smirking when Ransom had to hand Sophie over to be fed and instantly started pouting.

“All those months of animosity and all I had to do was put a baby in your hands.” Tori said softly as she positioned Sophie to feed and Ransom got Penny comfortable in his arms.

“No, I think it would have made things worse but these girls ….” he trailed off.

“They have your beautiful blues.”

“I think they are going to take after you though.”

Penny fell asleep easily in his arms, he was content to hold her there but when Sophie fell asleep and he registered the exhaustion on his wifes face he resigned himself to tucking both babies into the bassinets.

Tori gave him a goofy smile, eyes closed. “Ran?” her voice only contributes to her tired state. “I love you.”

It was the first time either had said those words and he wasn’t even sure she was fully awake, he didn’t want to diminish the moment so he simply kissed her forehead with a personal vow to tell her first thing when she woke up. Adding on that none of his girls would ever go to bed again without hearing those words, nor would they ever be separated without knowing how much they were cared for.

Ransom was reformed. He was a dad now and nothing had ever been so appealing as taking on the responsibility of raising and showing his daughter how loved they were so they would never have the family discord he had with his own mother.

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terry-perry · 2 years

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I'm so happy you're doing requests! Can I request Ransom x Reader where they were doing a Bonnie and Clyde thing and Reader vows that vengeance will come after he gets arrested? It might be overdone, but I really like your writing and want to see what you do with this prompt. Thank you and Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas Nonnie!

Marta didn't know what got her to approach you after everyone saw your husband get taken away. It might have been her good nature getting the best of her once again. She had wanted to offer a form of condolence for breaking your family. Ransom was guilty of the whole thing, sure, but your sons didn't deserve to see their father in handcuffs. Your youngest son wailing in your arms while your 3-year-old held onto your leg was enough to get Marta to come over.

"Y/N," she walked towards you with much apprehension. The unreadable stare you threw at her in reaction didn't help matters. She may not expect you to be in the best mood, but she was still nervous about how you'd respond to her useless words. "I just want to say I'm sorry. It means nothing, but I do hope you'll get through this."

Your expression had yet to change. Why would it change? Marta inherited millions, and all you got was an imprisoned husband and a lousy apology. Expectations should be as low as they could get.

Yet you did respond soon enough. You gave a sharp inhale, like you tried to withhold a cry, before coming forward with a hug. Saying that this gesture caught Marta off guard would be an understatement. She gasped and went on to release some shaky breaths as you held her in one arm. You were still holding your baby boy that had since calm down, so Marta was able to hear you whisper in her ear:

"You're not sorry. Not yet."

It was a risk to say such a thing to her with the cops having yet to leave, but she had a right to know. Ransom may have let his mouth get the better of him, but you will be sure to finish the job. Harlan was dead, but the money was still around. For now, you'll be the shocked and heartbroken wife that will try to get the best lawyers. However, you can't resist telling Marta that this was far from over.

Because even though your boys lost their father, they won't lose their home.

#Knives Out #ransom drysdale x reader #ransomdrysdale #x reader #ransom drysdale #ransom thrombey x you #request #drabble #anon request #imagine #oneshot #child OC #Westley Drysdale #sebastian drysdale

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

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Murder, He Wrote

Part 6.

Summary: Ransom and you attend a wake for his great-nanna Wanetta, with the rest of his family. The knives are out, and they’re sharp…

Warnings: Bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap, violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N: So here it is, the penultimate chapter to this series! One more to go post this, plus an epilogue. I can’t believe it’s almost over…

Word Count: 9.5k (oops)

READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ us if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and by writing it does NOT mean I agree with or condone the acts contained within. This fiction is classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Murder, He Wrote Masterlist // Main Masterlist.

Part 5

You'd managed to get through Christmas fairly well. The days leading up, Ransom had been a little suspiciously sneaky but you didn't give it a second thought, really. Things between you and your captor were more than amicable, they were pleasant. But, despite the cohabitation and this new found demeanour in him, Ransom wasn't above reminding you that you were still under his eye. And under his eye you were indeed, all day long. He watched you as you read, as you cooked, as you wrote in your journal. Oddly, not once showing interest in your musings but working away on his own.

Christmas morning, the two of you had spent a few lazy hours in bed, Ransom waking you with kisses over your bare skin, stripped down and tired from the evening before where he worked you over until you couldn't move, crying out his name near midnight, his breathless, tired voice telling you 'Merry Christmas' before he slept. After an easy egg and toast breakfast, the two of you were sitting around the lounge, the fire burning, the tree lit, soft music played in the background, watching a fresh layer of snow falling outside. You were reading Dickens' holiday classic, aloud while Ransom sat next to you, idling running a long index finger over your neck in slow and soft, up and down strokes, listening to you. Suddenly he'd stopped and removed the book from your hands.

"I have something for you," he said, a slight eagerness to his tone. He slipped away for a brief moment, pulling a box, intricately wrapped, clearly not by himself, from under the tree. You'd never noticed it there, not once and you wondered when he'd put it there or if he'd hidden it in the very spot this whole time.

The red leather box sat heavy in your hand as you read the gold inscription on the top. With an unsteady breath, you lifted the hinged lid and hitched your breath at what sat inside. A white gold necklace, with two interlocking rings in a signature Cartier design glistened back at you. The screw motifs which were set in ideal oval shaped rings studded with diamonds that twinkled in the light sat snuggly inside against black velvet.

You were stunned. The gesture far too expensive and in your mind inappropriate. But you also thought it was absolutely gorgeous, and you wondered how he'd come up with such an expensive idea. You'd not mentioned anything of the sort in your time together, in fact, you hadn't had jewellery on bar your ball studs in your ears now.

You looked up from the delicate piece and your eyes met expectant ones. "It's beautiful," you spoke softly. "Thank you."

"Let me put it on you," he sat next you whilst taking the box from your hands. He gently pulled it away from the box and unclasped it, settling it around your neck as you moved your hair out of the way, thin tendrils framing your face. Your robe slipped off your shoulder and you felt his soft lips against your skin, down your neck and along your shoulder. "Let me see you," he spoke softly.

You turned in his direction and you saw the way he admired the way the piece sat across your chest, the silk robe you were wearing over your barely-there nightgown gaping open. As his eyes blatantly roved down between the valley of your breasts your own flicked across his casual, lazy-Christmas morning form, his broad chest and shoulders clad in a white thermal, sweats hung low on his hips.

"Perfect," he whispered, leaning towards you.

You were not a bought woman, no; you were his victim, his roommate, his co-habitant, his lover, his partner, his... Oh for Christ's sake you could go on with the labels that did or didn't make sense, were mutual or not, had or didn't carry the weight of a proper explanation. Right now, you were going through the motions and emotions.

"I like it, a lot, thank you again," you replied as his lips grew closer to yours. "I've never had such an expensive gift before."

His lips ghosted over yours, "There's plenty more where that came from, Sweetheart."

The implication of his words had hit you like a freight train as you realised just how many more ‘occasions’ he was planning on the pair of you spending together. New Year, Easter, Spring Break, your birthday, his birthday, summer, Memorial Day. It sparked so many conflicting opinions within you that you were glad of the distraction when he moved, his fingers delicate as he undid the ties of your robe and led you down on the rug before his lips had traced a path down your body and soon he’d had you crying his name, sheer bliss coursing through your veins.

Later that day, you'd made dinner for him, a reminder of how Christmas used to be when Wanetta and his Grandmother shared the festivities. After the quiet meal, he had expected you to join him for a shower, no doubt as pay back for him going down on you earlier. When you'd respectfully declined stating you needed to wash the dishes, he sneered and sulked off. You'd made sure that when he was gone long enough, you were able to get things set up for your gift. Now was the time to show Ransom how gifts of meaning and purpose were to be given and hopefully received. Not that it was going to make a blind bit of difference to your situation, not in the grand scheme of things anyway. You'd finished cleaning and putting everything away and headed into the lounge where you stoked the fire and then made your way back into the kitchen for your supplies. The hot cocoa burning hot, the slices of bread, tongs and a small serving of butter, complete with freshly blended cinnamon sugar. You knew he would come find you when you were not waiting in the bedroom for him. If Ransom Drysdale was anything, it was a creature of expectation and habit. You'd heard him coming down the stairs, that one spot with a creak carrying his footfall. You straightened up your things, setting up the tongs and tray of treats nicely before covering them with a cloth napkin, standing between the coffee table and the fireplace, and waited on baited breath for the tirade you thought was coming. He had turned the corner, his face stern with evident hard lines, his bare chest on display, hair still wet from the shower. You could smell him as he entered the doorway, that scent that you'd soon come to realize made you heady and needy. You waved him over, a hunt of excitement to your tone, "come on, come sit." “I don’t want to sit, Sweetheart, I want you like I had you before dinner. Crying my name with you under me.” He stood just inside the doorway, with his arms folded across his chest, sweats hung low on his hips. He wore no shirt just to entice you, but you weren't giving in so easily. "I'll say your name as many times as you want, but first, I need to give you my gift." You chose then to look at him with big eyes, sincere yet seductive.

It was a stare off between the two of you, he not budging and you popping your hip out to one side as you folded your arms over your chest. He had his fun, now you wanted to enjoy something and gift giving brought you joy.

Like a child told to apologize for hitting another, he hung his head and sulked over. You could tell it pained him to obey your request. But you again saw through his facade. You knew this meant far more to him than anything he'd ever received.

But he'd never tell you that. Not that you thought anyway. “Oh stop being so you, Ransom, for just five minutes.” You snorted exasperatedly at his petulant nature. “It’s Christmas.” With a roll of his eyes that would make any toddler jealous, he took to his knees sitting on his heels. With a smirk, you joined him, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek, "Merry Christmas, Ransom." You pulled the napkin off the tray revealing the contents of your gift. His eyes moved over the tray, first seeing the mugs of cocoa, topped with whipped cream that was beginning to melt into the warm liquid. The tongs, the bread, the small pinch bowls of cinnamon sugar and the soft butter. With his mind occupied, you managed to grab a throw and wrap it around the two of you. He blinked, and you could see that he was fighting the smirk that was threatening to cross his handsome face. “Toast?” He finally asked and you nodded, smiling. "I couldn't go get you something, not that it mattered, so this was the next best thing." A flicker of something darkened his face, and for a moment you thought you saw regret flash in his eyes, just like the day he had marked your face but as soon as it had appeared it was gone. "Just enjoy it, even if you can't say anything about it, just...." you shrugged, "remember." That night, after the toast with cinnamon butter and cocoa from scratch were shared, he had his way with you, delightfully slow, once more by the fire, you again crying out his name and he yours, over and over again. By the time he finished, you were both boneless and breathless, his body covering yours until he rolled over and the two of you slept by the fire, wrapped up in each other's arms, the heavy throw around your naked bodies.

Christmas had been nice. Maybe, somewhat enjoyable, you'd admitted to yourself. Of course, the wrench of not seeing your family had weighed like a stone in your gut, compounded by the fact that thanks to the lie you’d been forced to tell Blanc, they thought this was your choice. That you were staying away from them because you wanted to, when nothing could be further from the truth. You missed your mom and dad goofing around over presents, still trying to tell your now well grown-up sister and you Santa had been. You ached for the usual family politics that manifested when your uncles and aunts descended for dinner. You longed for your sister to be complaining about how fat she was going to get…

"We have to go," Ransom’s deep baritone caught you completely off guard, making you jump as you stood staring out of the large French windows over the garden from the master suite.

“Oh, okay,” you nodded, taking a deep breath to centre yourself, your heart racing at the speed of light from your fright. You took a glance at yourself in the mirror above the fireplace and found yourself wishing you’d done a better job at covering up the ugly scab and green bruising on your face.

You followed Ransom in his tan coat, pin striped slacks and a black cashmere sweater as he strode from the room. You felt nervous, anxious, scared. This was the first time you were leaving the house in two months. He led you to the garage where you started walking to the SUV he'd taken you in but he stopped you short, calling out to you, "not this time, Sweetheart." He stood at the passenger door to his vintage BMW. You swallowed and walked towards the door he was holding open for you. Wordlessly, you sank into the passenger seat and reached for your belt. Pulling it across your lap, you adjusted the pencil skirt and blouse you'd tucked into so as not to wrinkle it, your soft black peacoat bluky in your seat. The car roared to life, throbbing beneath you, the hum of the engine might, in other circumstances, have excited you. But now, the only thing filling you was dread. The first time you’re out of your "castle", and it's to go to a wake, for Wanetta Thrombey.

Go figure. ***** The silence in the car was stifling. Every so often Ransom stole a glance at Y/N to find her simply staring out of the window, at one stage reaching up to wipe her eye. He didn’t say anything, but he wasn’t an idiot. Over Christmas he’d caught her numerous time completely zoned out, as if she was somewhere else, just like she had been moments before they had left. And whilst she’d done her best to keep her tears and attitude at bay, she’d been clipped with him a number of times which he’d simply let slide and instead of reminding her about her attitude, he’d pressed her to tell him what was wrong. She’d quietly admitted that she missed her family, something Ransom simply couldn’t understand, so in the spirit of their recent candid openness, he’d asked her bluntly why she needed them so much when he gave her everything she could possibly ever want. At that she had snorted, and taken great pains to explain to him that just because he failed to understand something didn’t make it any less valid of a feeling to someone else and then she’d deftly changed the subject, and he’d allowed the conversation to steer elsewhere.

And now, the first time she’d been anywhere but the inside of his house and strictly the garden for months, they were headed to spend time with his shit-head family. The irony was staggering when you considered it. He eased his beloved beemer onto the main road and pushed his foot down on the gas, weaving himself in and out of the light traffic obnoxiously fast. But he wasn’t known for his patience, he had somewhere to be and in his mind; the faster he got there the faster he could leave, keen to spend as little time with his family as possible. About halfway into the journey, Ransom felt that familiar cold feeling in his stomach as he pulled off the freeway and on to one of the smaller roads. He could drive this journey with his eyes closed but it was the first time he’d been back to the mansion since... well, since IT had all gone down. The more he thought about it, the more agitated he could feel himself getting, his hands gripping the steering wheel of the car with a force that made his knuckles white. He was jolted however, with the feeling of a hand on his arm and his head turned slightly to see Y/N looking at him. She didn’t say anything, and no sooner had he registered her touch she moved her hand dropping it back into her lap, eyes focussed downwards as his turned back to the road. He swallowed, that familiar and uncomfortable feeling of remorse once more washing over him. Despite everything he had done to her, she was still voluntarily lending him comfort.

Ten minutes later, he swung up the tree-lined driveway, his heart pounding in his chest. His jaw set hard as the mansion came into view, and low and behold his mother, standing on the front steps, a cigarette between her fingers as she exasperatedly texted on her phone. A meek voice came from the seat beside him, "its going to be okay." But he couldn't decipher if she were talking to him or herself. He cut the engine, his hands still on the wheel as he sighed and hung his head, before he turned to her. “I don’t need to warn you about trying anything do I?” He asked, ignoring her effort to placate him. "No," she replied quietly. “Good.” He reached out and gently gripped her chin between his thumb and finger, pressing as soft kiss to her lips, the action as much for him as it was for the benefit of his mother who was watching the pair of them. “Come on, let’s get this over with.” He gracefully unfolded himself from the driver’s side, shutting the door behind him and strode to the front of his car, waiting for Y/N to catch up. Her face was set, an expression he’d seen countless times before when she’d been fearful and acting under duress. He watched as she took a deep breath and drew back her shoulders whilst he reached for her hand. Obediently, she took it and together they strode towards the large wooden door, his mother watching them as they approached "You're late," Linda scoffed.

He paid her no mind and pulled Y/N along his side. “I’m sure Nanna won’t mind too much, you know, on account of her being dead.” He retorted sardonically.

You stood by his side, your eyes watching Linda and she turned her attention to you, her eyes narrowing a little, a strange expression on her features, almost as if she was sussing you out. But, as her eyes flicked to your injured cheek before they darted to Ransom who still had a possessive grip around your hand you realised with horror it wasn’t you she was suspicious of. It was the bruise on your face, more so how it had gotten there.

You cleared your throat. “Funny thing,” you gestured to it and her eyes snapped to yours, “too much Scotch and I tripped. Face first into the corner of my vanity."

Okay, so it wasn’t a complete lie…but you still felt sick to your stomach at how quickly you’d jumped to his defence.

“Sure.” Linda arched an eyebrow.

“What exactly are you getting at, Mother?” Ransom looked at her, his jaw set and Linda rolled her eyes, taking a drag of her cigarette.

“Nothing really, I just find it extremely odd that you get an interview with this girl to clear your name and she ends up in your bed, only after she’s done a complete hatchet job on all of us first.” She dropped her cigarette end to the floor before she looked at him shrewdly.

“For which she published an apology.” Ransom’s voice was flat and carried an undertone of annoyance to which Linda paid no attention.

“Because you’re really the type to forgive and forget so easily.” She scoffed as Ransom gave a dramatic sigh as his mother continued, her head now turning to you. “You know, I could hardly believe it when Blanc told us you were with him, and then I saw you with my own eyes and now here you are again…“

“What do you mean, when Blanc told you?” Ransom frowned as his hand contracted almost painfully around yours, a warning no doubt to remain silent. His mother had hit the nail on the head, proving that she knew her son a lot better than you, and no doubt he, had bothered to give her credit for.

“Her disappearance was all over the news, more so because they’d linked it to that god-awful cretin of an actor, Lucas Lee.” She turned back to look at him. “But, no sooner had they done that he was cleared thanks to a cast-iron alibi and low and behold, a few weeks later Blanc turns up.” Linda raised her brows, her gaze fixed on Ransom. “I told him where to find you-“

“Gee, thanks.” Ransom drawled and she glared at him, before he rolled his eyes and gestured with his hand for her to continue.

“And obviously he did as he came back a day or so later, saying that to his surprise you-“ her eyes flicked to yours then and you swallowed “-were seemingly there, of your own accord.”

“I erm,” you fumbled on your words and felt Ransom let go of your hand, his palm warm as it now rested between your shoulder blades. Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself for another lie, one that this time you’d spun before and you shrugged, licking your lips. “I'll tell you the same thing I told him. I came to realize that despite my scathing feature, Ransom intrigued me. I wanted to get to know him more. One thing led to another and I figured if we kept our relationship quiet for a while, I'd save myself the spit on my face from my family and people like you.”

“People like me?” Linda arched a brow, her lips quirking up at one side. “

“I didn’t mean…” You shook your head, quickly taking a deep breath. “Sorry, that was rude.”

“A tad, but I’ve had worse.” Linda’s eyes twinkled with something that looked like amusement as she reached into her pocket for her packet of cigarettes. “But, what I don’t understand is, why let your family believe you were missing, dead even?”

“I, well, I was under a lot of pressure at work, and everything just got too much and needed to escape, from everything. Ransom told me to stay with him for a while to get some head space and I didn’t mean to cause anyone any hurt or upset and-“

You stopped dead as you felt Ransom curl his hand round the back of your neck, giving a squeeze in warning. You were rambling.

“You don’t have to explain yourself, Sweetheart,” his voice was softly spoken as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “it’s none of her business.”

Linda looked at you for a moment, before she turned to her son and shrugged, popping another cigarette into her mouth. “I’ve long since given up trying to understand anything you did.”

“Well, like the judge said,” Ransom moved, his hand now on the base of your spine as he turned and guided you to the large door of the house, “not of sound mind.”

In the spacious drawing room, the rest of the family was gathered around. There were no others at the wake, Wanetta having outlived everyone she knew. You knew Ransom would offer no introductions, but that wasn’t an issue, you knew everyone anyway from your extensive research into this fucked up family. The fire burned in the background, and Ransom’s father, Richard, lounged in an arm-chair, a young woman who you presumed to be the au-pair Ransom talked about with disdain, perched on his lap. Walt was perched in another arm-chair, his wife Donna stood behind him, clutching a half drunk glass of wine, their son Jacob absent from the room. Marta and Meg were perched on the couch with Joni flitting about, a crunch from a carrot stick heard from across the room. You walked in and immediately felt the daggers in your skin as all eyes turned towards you. The knives were out and you swallowed, adjusting your sleeve, feeling Ransom's presence behind you.

“Here…” you felt Ransom’s hands gently pulling on the shoulders of your coat and he slipped it from your body, gently pressing another kiss to your cheek. You turned to look at him, offering him a small smile before he moved to hang the coat up on the stand at the far side of the room.

“Y/N, right?” Marta was the first one to speak as she stood up, and you nodded, not bothering to ask how she knew your name. It was a given she’d have read the article, and it was also a given thanks to the conversation moment’s ago with Linda, that the rest of the family had also been briefed on the fact you were ‘with’ Ransom. What clearly hadn’t’ been anticipated from the not-so-covert surprised glances that were being shared, was that he would have brought you today. “Can I get you a drink?” She continued and you smiled.

“Please, erm, a wine would be great.”

“Red or white?”

“She prefers white.” Ransom spoke and Marta’s eyes darted to his. You instantly felt his entire body language stiffen and you turned to him, the distaste evident on his face, his entire aura radiating utter disdain and bitterness.

Marta simply took a deep breath, her expression flat, but her eyes fierce as they remained in a silent stand-off.

“Can’t she speak for herself?” Meg scoffed and Ransom pulled his eyes away from Marta, turning his glare to his cousin.

“Is explaining what a lady prefers to drink considered sexist as well now or…”

“He’s right,” You jumped in quickly, smiling at Marta. “White is great, thanks.”

Marta nodded.

“Hugh?” She looked at Ransom and you blinked at the use of that name and then realised, of course, she’d once upon a time been the help. That said, you knew she was saying it simply because she wanted to, not that her status required it and there was an amused look on Ransom’s face as he turned to her.

“Beer.”

You rolled your eyes to yourself at his lack of manners, but from the expression on Marta’s face she’d been expecting it, and to be honest, you weren’t sure why you hadn’t been. Her lips curled into a sarcastic grin as she turned and headed out.

“You should try it, Donna. It’s got camomile and lavender in. I swear by it.” Your ears then picking up on a conversation between Walt, Donna and Joni and you turned your head towards them, Ransom’s arm curled round your waist, hand resting heavy on your hip. Joni bit down on the carrot stick she was holding with a flourish of her hands. “It’s my favourite thing FLAM have done.”

"You know, I'm surprised you didn't go under given you're no longer receiving Dad's money.” Walt interjected and Joni rolled her eyes.

“Shows how much attention you pay, Walt. When I released that new line of bath-bombs and candles, sales, like literally, went through the roof.”

“Bath-bombs?” Walt frowned.

“Yeah, they’re like little cakes if you will of dried soap and fragranced that you drop into a-“

“I know what they are.” Walt rolled his eyes as Marta appeared, handing you your drink which you took with a thanks. “I was commenting on the fact you said you’d launched a new line.”

“Oh, yeah.” Joni munched her carrot stick some more. “I got the idea from Gwyneth Paltrow when she released that candle scented like her vagina.” At that you choked on your drink and hastily avoided looking at anyone in the room as various groans and loud protests from the males hit your ears.

At that point Linda walked back into the room and sat down in a chair not far from where you were sat and she smoothed down her trousers before she peered up at Ransom.

“How’s the book coming along?” She asked, peering from over the top of her wine glass as she sipped from it.

“Fine.” Ransoms shrugged. “Few little blocks here and there but I’ll work through them. Granddad always told me sometimes it pays to take a step back and pause, ideas often come when you’re not expecting them.”

Linda smiled, and you were pleased to see that, for once, it appeared genuine, as if she was actually looking at her son with something more than ambivalence. And then, the moment was ruined as Meg burst out laughing.

“You’re writing a book? What’s it called? ‘Ransom’s Guide To Being An Asshole’?” She snorted and Ransom took a deep breath.

“Eat shit.”

“Original.” Meg replied drily rolling her eyes, “you know, I'm jealous of all the people that haven't met you.” She stated as her eyes turned to you. “Seriously, what the fuck do you see in him? Why on earth anyone would ever want to be in the same room with him, let alone share his bed is completely beyond me.”

“Tell me, Meg, when was the last time you got laid?” Ransom turned to her, a smirk on his face. “And your dildo doesn’t count.” “Fuck you, you fucking prick.” Meg seethed before she turned to look at you, her face angry. “You know, it must be serious if he’s bringing you here; he normally just keeps his fuck buddies on speed dial.”

“And throws the money on the mattress.” Walt mumbled.

At that, Ransom tensed and he turned his face towards his Uncle, his nostrils flaring. But before he had time to answer back, Richard let out a derisive snort and Ransom instead turned his head to his father.

“You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?” Ransom shot back, “Tell me, how much do you pay the barely legal whore sat on your lap?”

“You little shit.” Richard spat as the poor woman in question shifted uncomfortably, her mouth falling open as the insult Ransom had shot at her registered.

You stood stock still, a warm and uncomfortable feeling washing over you as the family continued to bicker. You could feel a headache coming; this was becoming too much for you to cope with.

“Oh for God’s sake.” Linda groaned, almost lazily from her spot on the chair. “Is it too much to ask that one of our family deaths goes by without starting another feud?”

"Oh that's rich, coming from you!” Richard, turned to her. Linda met her ex-husband’s glare with a completely blank expression on her face, before she scoffed.

“Why are you wearing those ridiculous glasses?” She demanded, referring to the spectacles that adorned Richard’s face, the style being something you would attribute to Harry Potter.

“So I can see.”

“You never needed glasses in the entire thirty-four years we were married.” She scoffed.

“I did.” Richard shrugged, a snarky grin curling at one side of his mouth and you instantly recognised that expression as being one Ransom sported a lot. “Just preferred it when I couldn’t see your face.”

Linda’s mouth dropped open and you felt yourself bristle as you took a breath.

“Are you actually gonna let your dad say that to your mom?” You glanced up at Ransom. His head turned slowly towards you and the expression of anger on his face at being called out made your blood run cold. You recoiled a little and your eyes immediately darted to the floor.

“Sorry.” You whispered.

"This is fun," Jacob snickered as he, from out of nowhere, waltzed into the room and took a seat in the corner of the bay window, never once looking up from his phone. “Ransom once more manages to spark an argument.”

“Y/N meet Jacob, the poster child for the pro-choice movement.” Ransom gestured to the teenager in front of you who merely rolled his eyes as both Walt and Donna began to yell and hurl insults back at Ransom.

“Says the guy whose birth certificate is an apology letter from the condom factory.” The teen mumbled back.

“Ooh, good one, which one of your alt-right, KKK loving buddies did you learn that from?” Ransom quipped, and in a quick change of decorum, the room erupted with slander and jabs being shouted and tossed about, most of the commotion being pointed at Ransom.

It was a cacophony of noise and sound, which infiltrated your head, making your brain buzz and crackle like the wick of a dynamite stick and it was too much. After months of quiet with no one to listen or talk to bar Ransom, it was overwhelming and you felt sick.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need some air.” You mumbled, seizing the chance, as he was distracted.

You made your way into the hallway where you stood, your back leaning against the dark wooden panelling, taking huge gasps of air. Your chest hurt, your head was spinning and your legs burned but those deep breaths didn’t help. Your hand slapped against your chest, hoping to ebb the sting. Soon, lightheaded, and with a slight spin to the space around you, you felt a cool hand on your shoulder through your blouse. Your head turned and you saw a sweet pair of eyes looking at you with worry.

“Let’s get you some real air, come on,” it was Marta, coming to your aide.

She took you outside, to a covered patio, with wicker furniture and heating lamps. The rush of cold air hit your flushed skin and a different sting erupted through your lungs as the bite of winter’s breath filled you.

“Here.” The young woman handed you a tartan blanket, which you took with a grateful look, still not quite able to form any words. She helped you sit down on one of the chairs and made sure the blanket was snug around your shoulders as she took a seat opposite you.

“They’re a little overwhelming, but you get used to it,” she rubbed a small hand up and down your back.

You just looked at her, your eyes watering as you came down from your panic. You had no desire to get used to it, to any of it, but as per anything in this fucked up situation, you were no doubt going to have to, like it or not.

The breaths you took became longer, deeper, the peak of panic now steadying out leaving you feeling shaky and exposed.

“I’m sorry, that was…”

“You don’t have to apologise. With what’s happening inside, this is normal.” Marta softly smiled with a chuckle. “I’d be worried if they weren’t screaming at each other.”

“Can I ask you something?” You looked at her, speaking softly.

“Of course.” She replied, just as hushed.

“Why did you do it? Have everyone over? You don’t owe them anything.”

The former nurse rubbed her palms on her pants, “well, it’s what Wanetta wanted. She sorta came with the house and it was her last wish, for the family to come together. I think she thought after everything that happened something might have changed?” Marta shook her head at the audacity of the sound of it. “She didn’t say much more, but Allan had given me her will and that’s all it read. Things would remain the same but she wanted them here after she was cremated, for a final goodbye.”

“I admire her optimism.” You stated flatly and Marta laughed before she gave a heavy sigh, a sad smile on her face.

“Well, she loved them, not that any of them cared, not in years. The only one I ever noticed take mind of her out of want and not duty was Ransom.” She kept her eyes on yours as she spoke, genuine care coming from the sound of her. “But that was before…when he…with Harlan.”

You glanced away, not totally surprised but still a little shocked so to speak that someone else had noticed there was a little shred of humanity buried underneath all his asshole bravado. You leaned forward on your thighs, elbows resting there as your hands wrung together, a nervous habit you’d recently developed.

“Can I ask YOU something?” Marta wondered. You nodded, your stomach knotting, hoping I wasn’t what you suddenly thought it could be. “You’ve spent time with Ransom. I read your article and your apology. Do you believe all of this? The not of sound mind?” Her eyes were sorrowful but held a glare of contempt at the circumstance.

“Uh…” you started but the opening of the patio door caught both of your attentions and the man in question stepped outside, your coat in his hands.

“I was worried,” he stated, opening your coat for you as you automatically stood to receive the gesture. You had no doubt his worry was genuine, but whether it was for you or what you may or may not have revealed was another question.

“I needed some air,” you admitted, “Marta came to my rescue.”

“One man alone can be pretty dumb sometimes, but for real bona fide stupidity there ain't nothing can beat teamwork.” Ransom quipped in reference to the chaos of the family being together, chaos he narcissistically enjoyed partaking in.

You looked up at those daring blue eyes, “Mark Twain.”

He quirked a brow in agreement before his eyes flicked to Marta and then back to you. “Was I interrupting something, Sweetheart?”

There it was, that warning tone in his voice. You were on thin ice. You stuffed your hands into your peacoat pocket and shook your head.

“No.” You cleared your throat as you held his gaze. “Like I said, I just needed some air.”

As he stood there, his eyes searching hers he took a deep breath as she gazed back up at him, fear simmering within those deep globes. Ransom reached out, pulling her to him, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. “As long as that’s all it was.”

Recognising his comment for what it was, half concern and half warning, she nodded against his chest. Without so much as another glance at Marta, he turned, his arm looped possessively over her shoulders as he led her back inside. He walked slowly down the hallway, stooping slightly to speak into her ear. “From now on, you don’t leave my sight, you got that?”

“Yeah, okay.” She whispered and nodded.

“Good girl,” he smiled, tipping her face up with on finger under her chin, planting a soft kiss on her lips.

*****

The next hour or so passed reasonably uneventfully. Ransom was careful to keep as much distance between him, Y/N and the rest of the assholes in the room as possible. When the buffet was served, he watched as she picked at the plate of food she had selected, not eating a terrible amount. She’d gone in on herself again, and he found himself a little disappointed if truth be told.

“We’ll leave soon.” He turned to her and she looked at him, “you’ve behaved today, I’m impressed.”

At that she rolled her eyes. “Is going back to that fucking house supposed to be a reward or something?”

At that Ransom felt a surge of anger and he glared at her, the nerve in his jaw twitching. “Don’t push me, sweetheart.” His voice was low, and a growl but to his surprise, instead of recoiling at his outward hostility and warning she simply sat up straight, her shoulders squaring and met him with a filthy look of her own.

“Fuck you.” She spat.

“Oh we already played that game.” His lip curled back in a snarl. “Several times.”

“Trouble in paradise?” Walt leaned forward a little to pick up something off one of the plates on the table by Ransom and he took a breath, his eyes still trained on Y/N before he turned to his uncle.

“Are you not dead yet?”

“Do you have to talk to everyone like that?” Joni sighed. “God, Ransom.”

“Well I thought the guys who bust his leg might have caught up with him by now, no such luck.” Ransom shrugged.

“Listen here you little shit,” Walt leaned over the table, but no sooner had he done that he suddenly began coughing on whatever food he had in his mouth.

“I’m listening.” Ransom quipped as Walt continued to splutter, Donna hastily hitting him on the back.

Jacob, who wasn’t even looking at the table, too engrossed in his phone, then spoke. “What did you eat, Dad? Wasn’t anything he gave you was it? I mean he did kill Grandpa so I wouldn’t put it past him to poison you either.”

A deadly silence spread across the room as Ransom took a deep breath, his eyes fixed on his cousin, his hand clenching into fists. Besides him, Y/N let out a shaky breath and her head turned to look at him but he didn’t meet her eyes. Instead he leaned back in his chair and when he spoke next, his voice was icy.

“Not of sound mind.”

“Yeah, we heard. Loaf of bullshit if you ask me, but then again an expensive lawyer can get you off most things these days.” Walt snarled.

“Enough!” Linda yelled, her hand smacking on the table. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

Besides him, Y/N had begun to tremble, and Ransom glanced at her to see she was taking deep breaths, her chest heaving, face stony as she stared at the wall opposite, where a picture of his Nanna Wanetta was hung.

“Oh shut up Linda!” Walt turned to her. “Everyone here knows he’s guilty as sin, even you! Why the fuck he’s even here is beyond me. And as for you...” He turned to Y/N and she gave a start, her eyes flicking to him. “You might as well quit while you’re ahead as there ain’t no gold to be digging for. She got it all.” He pointed his fork at Marta and then that was it. Y/N let out a hell of frustration, standing up that quickly her chair tumbled to the ground behind her, the plate clattering to the floor by her feet.

“You think I’m with him for his money?” He glared at Walt, the entire room silent as all eyes focussed on her. “Jesus Christ, you have no idea. I’m with him because I have-“

At that Ransom’s hand shot out and curled round her wrist, his grip tight in warning and she jerked away from him, glaring down at him with a fire in her eyes he hadn’t seen in a long time.

“The whole lot of you are fucked in the head.” She tapped her temple with her forefinger. “I’ve never seen anything like this in my entire life. You’re nothing but a bunch of self-entitled, narcissistic assholes. After everything you've been through, you can’t even find it in your cold dead hearts to come together honour a member of your family that died without reducing the entire event to some kind of sick, twisted game of one-upmanship. Each and every one of you are all about yourselves, and what you can do to out accomplish the other. As far as I’m concerned each one of you can fuck off and die. You disgust me."

She took a deep breath, running her hands over her face before she turned on her heel and stormed from the room.

Ransom blinked, watched her leave, a slam of the door behind her. He stood there for a brief moment, processing what had just happened. He looked back to his family with a smug shrug and at that he headed quickly after Y/N, his mother's obnoxious and loudly over dramatic gasp bouncing off his back as he too slammed the front door.

****

It was your turn to stand there and act like a petulant child as you leaned against the hood of the Beemer, cares and all fucks be damned. You were tired, you were angry and God damn down right fed up with this entire family and their bullshit. You didn't even make eye contact with him as Ransom as he approached the car. You simply moved to your door, slipped in as he did and waited for him to start the car. You felt his eyes in him, heard him open his mouth to say something but rather he just took in a breath and started the engine. You sat there, your arms crossed over your chest, knees at an angle, pointed towards your door, away from him.

A rumble of a chuckle escaped his chest, "Oh Sweetheart, that was really something."

"Just drive," you spat out, turning your head to him in annoyance. Now he didn't find you amusing, this new air of confidence about you. He cleared his throat and looked at you with a stern gaze.

"Careful, Y/N," he warned, pulling around the drive to the long road before the main. You didn't care. You raised your brows as if you were silently emphasizing your demand, it was not a request, even in the slightest.

The bare trees and snow covered ground began flying by your window, clearly Ransom laying the pedal to the floor as you shook your head.

"What the hell was even the point of going today? It was blatantly obvious that they didn’t want you there, and you didn’t want to be there. If you wanted to mourn Wanetta, we could have done it from the confines of the prison you like to keep me in. Or was this just another shitty way for you to torture me? Huh? Was that amusing to you, Hugh, making me spend an afternoon with your fucked up family, whom you hate, when you’re keeping me from mine? God, you really are a twisted son of a bitch.”

Your tirade set his skin on fire, you could see the tinge of red flushing his skin as he white knuckled the wheel, his hand on the gear shift squeezing the hell out of it as you spoke. Then very quickly you felt your body lurch forward as he slammed on the breaks. "What the fuck did you just say?"

“What, are you deaf?” You blazed. “I asked why we were there? I mean I thought we were going to pay respects to your Great-Nanna, because stupid me actually believed that you felt something, you know, some kind of sorrow that she was gone, and I actually felt sorry for you at first when we got in there, and they were unloading all their vile little opinions and digging in at you and-“

"Now you listen to me you little bitch," he spat, cutting you off. "I didn’t ask for, nor do I need your pity. I don’t care what my family say to me, or think about me. And I certainly don’t care what they think or say about you”

“Oh my god, you are…” You shook your head, looking out of the window, taking a deep breath. “This isn’t pity, Ransom.”

“No, because that’s what it sounds like.” He seethed, his hands curling round the steering wheel.

“Of course it does.” You scoffed. “Because that’s probably all you’ve ever felt towards anyone else isn’t it? Pity, because they’re never going to be as good as you, or have the things you have. Well you might be rich in money terms but fuck, in everything else you’re a pauper. Have you ever truly empathised with someone? Like have even once fully understood what someone else feels? Their sorrow, their happiness, their joy?”

“What the fuck are you getting at?”

You sighed, considering your options. You knew what you wanted to tell him-that the fact he wasn’t loved as a child left him incapable of the simple emotions normal people met, but he was calling you out. And now, it was play it soft or rip it off like a band-aid…

And despite the feeling of foreboding washing over you, you chose the latter. You were tired of playing his mind games, tired of this whole situation. And whatever fucked up punishment he was going to inflict on you, well, it couldn’t be worse than anything he’d already done, you’d take it.

“You don't know how to be happy, or how to love Ransom, because you've never seen it. You've never experienced it. You just breeze through life thinking you can take what you want when you want, and it doesn't work like that.”

“You’re starting to really piss me off. If I wanted a therapy session, I’d pay for one.” He snarled, “Shut the fuck up.”

“See, this is what I mean!” You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You just asked me to elaborate, so I did, and know because I’m saying something that you don’t like or don’t wanna hear, you’re resorting to being an asshole. Every time I think I’m getting through to you, I…” You fell silent, swallowing as he glared at you, nostrils flaring and you took a deep sigh, knowing that this was pointless. “You know what, forget it. I shouldn’t-“

“No, you clearly got something to say, so go on. Say it.”

“What, so you can punish me when we get back for pissing you off some more?”

At that his face faltered and he took a deep breath, hanging his head. When he raised it again to look at you, his face was softer and he looked out of the windscreen, licking his lips. “I’m not…gonna punish you, okay.”

“How do I know?” You whispered, shaking your head. “How can I trust that you’re not just gonna lock me back in that damned basement and come down when you want to fuck me and-“ “Because I’m not!” His voice rose. “I don’t want you down there anymore. So I’ll ask again, you think you know so much about how to love,” he framed the word with his fingers, "then tell me what you think it means.”

“Fine, you wanna know…I’ll tell you. It's going on dates, it’s fun, its surprising, it’s feeling like you can’t breathe if the person you are in love with leaves you. It’s not about owning them or breaking them or how much you buy a person or throwing money at them, it’s showing them you know how they are, that you understand what they appreciate and what they need and what they want, a lot of times without being told.” You took a deep breath, watching his face, his expression never faltering. “Love is something that can't always be explained. It's that feeling of family, of having your person. Someone your heart and soul changes for, grows with. Love is a mother's hug or kiss goodnight, a father's ball landing in your mitt with a joyful laugh and smile. Love isn't forced or taken. It's given and received. It's...."

"Fresh hot cocoa on a rainy day when you have nothing left in a world that hates you,” he spoke softly, and when you realized what he'd said it stopped your thoughts cold. Did that mean what you thought it meant? That he loved you?

You were lost for words, but before you could protest and tell him he was wrong, he sighed and looked at you.

“You asked me before why I brought you today. That’s why. Because they hate me. And you make me feel fucking safe around those pieces of shit.” Your breath caught in your throat whilst your mind raced for how to respond. The tension and suspense filled the air about the two of you. You stared at him, his eyes soft, expectant, darting over your features with a bouncing worry. The reaction time between his words and your next move was merely a minute but you had quickly found a way to capitalize on this moment. You threw your belt off and kicked your heels off in the process, moving over the gear shift and the centre console into his lap, the center seam of your skirt tearing as you straddled him. "Wha...." his words were cut off by your lips on his, your palms over his softly shaven face, fingertips sliding into the hair behind his ears. Immediately, your tongue slipped deep inside his mouth, lolling around with his. His hands found your waist and gave you a squeeze. You came to your knees as best you could in the small space and continued to kiss him while trying to inch your skirt higher. He'd guessed what you were trying to do and you felt his hands move from your waist to the tops of your thighs, fingers trailing down quickly to the hem of your skirt, lifting it to above the curve of your ass where it bunched. He didn’t ask or question your sudden burst of confidence or seeming desire, just as you’d banked on, instead he was quite happy to go with it, as usual always ready to fuck you any which way he could. Your hands trailed over the soft material of his sweater and down to the end of it, where it met the top of his slacks. You lifted the clothing slightly to ghost over his skin causing him to flinch before your finger tips found the button and zip of his flies. That maddeningly smug smirk spread across his face and your lips crashed back to his, a furious clash of teeth and tongue, your hands still fumbling with his pants. He was half hard before you even got him free, no doubt from the heated exchange the two of you had to get to here. As you palmed his girth in your hand, your brain switched from playing him to wanton need, a basic primal instinct of desperation to release the toxic stress your body held. His big hand and thick fingers trailed over your hip, your ass, down your thigh and finally cupped your heat and a deep ferrral growl emitted from his chest as he'd realized you'd worn nothing under that skirt. He dipped two fingers inside you straight away and you cried out, "fuck" as your body bent back away from him, keening at the feeling. “Fuck, baby, you’ve had nothing on under here all day?” His fingers curled inside of you and you groaned, your head rolling back as your hips pushed forward, thrusting against his hand. You couldn't use your words, you looked down at him with your pupils blown and your bottom lip between your teeth. You gave him a squeeze instead and he quickly lurched you into the steering wheel with his chest, his fingers falling away and both hands tearing your blouse open, buttons flying that will never be found. His nose tucked between the valley of your breasts and he inhaled between your fleshy mounds, his tongue dipping against the underside of your thin bra. His hands each palming an ass cheek and squeezing so hard, it delightfully stung. With what little space the two of you had to move, Ransom pulled you down into his lap, the need to feel you wrapped around him dangerously feral. It took no time for that single motion to get his head then every inch of his shaft deep inside you. "Fuck, you feel so fucking good," he ground out. He didn't care the mess she would make or the way he'd cum so hard he'd leak out of her, no, he wanted to fuck her senseless and that's exactly what he'd do. His heels cemented themselves into the footwell of the car as his hips jutted upward, her body curling in on him. “Harder, please Ransom.” Her voice croaked as she begged him and with a growl that was animalistic his hips picked up their pace as he rutted up into her quickly and harshly. His mouth devoured the tops of her breasts, nipping at her nipples through the material of the lace that covered them while her fingers scratched at the back of his neck, tugging at his hair. In contrast to the cold winter conditions outside, the air inside his beloved car was now hot, fast steaming up the windows, drops of condensation trickling down towards the door sill a perfect mirror image of the sweat that was now sliding down the hollow of her throat and beading on his brow. He could feel her walls begin to squeeze him tighter and tighter with each thrust. His hands curled round her hips, pulling her down onto him as he leaned back, raising his ass off the seat slightly, spearing up into her as deep as he could. "Ransom," you started to shake senselessly, you were crashing fast and hard and there was no slowing down. "Fuck, baby, just like that," you'd heard him say over the blood that rushed to your ears, deafening you, as you came, gripping him like a vice. Your body gave way as your hands sought purchase to ground yourself from entirely collapsing, finding the lapel of his camel coat, white knuckling it with one hand while the other slapped against the damp window which felt like melting ice against your heated palm. A noise burst from your mouth, a half scream, half choked wail, a sound you weren’t sure you’d ever made before and you opened your eyes to see Ransom’s icy blue’s locked onto yours, his bottom lip clamped between his teeth. His voracious pace continued until the end when he came with a primal growl, his hips raising off the seat far enough to jolt your head against the roof of the car. You felt him fill you, the warmth of his seed settling deep inside, and then some. The air was heavy with the sound of panting as the pair of you came down from the intensity of the moment, The both of you desperately trying to breathe despite the humidity. Your hands curled over Ransom's shoulders as he sagged back in the seat, his hands smoothing up the outside of your thighs. You swallowed hard as his eyes focused on yours. You leaned forward and kissed him slowly, softly, his mouth and body languidly responding. Pulling back slightly, you kept your forehead pressed to his, and took a deep breath before you went straight in for the kill, the reason you’d instigated this entire fuck, to capitalise once more on a seeming chink in his armour. "You said you feel safe with me." He stilled underneath you, his hands gentle as they now rest on your hips and his eyes locked onto yours, widening as he realised his admission. "Do you want me to feel safe with you? To trust you?" You continued, not giving him a moment to deny it. He nodded slowly in reply. "Prove it," you stated. "How?" His voice was croaky as he cleared his throat, a slight frown furrowed his brow. "I want to see my family again." He looked at you, and you kept your eyes locked on his, a challenge to him to make good on his word, gambling on him actually wanting you to trust him as he had taken great pains to demonstrate through various means over the past few weeks. This was it, the moment where you would find out exactly what he truly wanted- someone to love and trust him, or someone to fear and obey him. He let out a slow breath through his nose and his eyes flicked over your shoulder before they returned to yours and he gave you an almost imperceptible nod. But a nod nonetheless. “Okay.”

**** Part 7

#murder he wrote #dark ransom drysdale #dark ransom drysdale x reader #dark ransom x reader #dark ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale fic #knives out #chris evans #chris evans characters #reader insert #dark fic

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 3 years

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Sage and Sweaters Holiday/Winter Challenge Submissions

Hello Tumblr Peeps! As were getting further in the season, figured we would share what has been submitted so far as Challenge Fics. (Others will be added as they are submitted, there is no rush to participants to get them in.)

Its a lovely list with a bit of everything on it. Make sure to give the writers a round of applause for there submission, they are extraordinary stories that they have shared with all of us. I am always humbled by everyones talents.

Divider made by @firefly-graphics

Happy Reading!

Holly Jolly Xmas by @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho featuring Ransom x Reader. Ransom doesn't care for Christmas, but Reader loves it and is out to show him that it can be a good time by placing a friendly bet. Fluff

Pure and Good by @donutloverxo featuring Steve x Desi!Reader. Steve has found the love of his life and brought her back to the states. Its time for a wedding right around the holidays. Things don’t always go as planned in life, but sometimes its the unexpected that really makes the memories. Warnings- Smut

Naughty or Nice by @sweeterthanthis featuring Ransom x Reader. Its Christmas Eve and you are busy getting ready for your family coming over to celebrate your favorite holiday. Ransom on the other hand has other things on his mind and when he catches you nibbling on a forbidden holiday treat. Well... He cant just let you get away with being naughty can he. Warnings- Smut

Cozy Christmas Night by @just-one-ordinary-fangirl featuring Ransom x Reader. Its Christmas time and you are in full Holiday Spirits. Cookies, Music, Trees, Decorating. You are not letting anything ruin your Christmas, and your love for the holiday is slowly rubbing off on one Ransom Drysdale. Fluff

25 Days of Christmas: Day 2 by @stuckonjbbarnes featuring Loki x Reader. You and Loki are decorating the beloved Christmas Tree. Loki feels like its a bit of nonsense, but you won’t be deterred. Fluff

Surprise by @viinchester featuring Chris x Reader x Dodger. You decide that give Dodger a bit of a fun makeover for the holiday to surprise Chris before he gets home. Fluff

25 Days of Christmas: Day 6 by @stuckonjbbarnes featuring Bucky x Reader with Sam showing up at the end. You make the perfect cup of cocoa and Bucky is all there for it. Teasing and playing with you. Fluff

Riding High One Shot: Whamaggedon by @what-is-your-backupplan-today Frank x Fliss. Its the jolliest time of year and the girls are all for pulling everyone into the festivities, including Thor the dog. Franks gotta admit, maybe this will be one of the best Christmas’s yet now that Fliss joined the family. Fluff

Once Upon A Christmas by @the-soulofdevil featuring dark Steve Rogers x Reader. The Endgame is finished and Steve knows he needs something deep in his soul. Its not Peggy, that life is behind him. He’s seen to much and come to far. He delves into a new lifestyle, maybe something more then the reader was ready for when she started dating Steve Rogers. Warnings- Non Con/Dub Con

Stark Spangled Forever: A Very Rogers Christmas Part One Part Two by @what-is-your-plan-today/@what-is-your-backupplan-today featuring Steve Rogers x OC Katie Rogers. Its Christmas time in the Rogers house hold and the kids are all excited for Santa Claus to come to town. It features many guest characters, and I promise full of laugh and love. Fluff

Jingle All The Way by @sweater-daddiesdumbdork featuring Sam Wilson x Reader. The Avengers are spending Christmas on Clints farm. Sam decides to take you on a winter sleigh ride with Clints trusty horse team. Fluff

Parts of Whole by @gotnofucks featuring Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes. After Steve has left, Sam struggles with missing his friend and taking up his title as Captain America. But there is someone always at his side, someone who understands how Sam feels. (you will need tissues. I did.) Angst/Fluff

Stealing Ingredients by @nekoannie-chan featuring Steve Rogers x Brock Rumlow x Reader. You want to make Steve his cookies and Brock his muffins, but you need some extra ingredients. While you are gone, they boys come up with there own idea to surprise you. Fluff

Too Loose and You'll Lose It: Jesus Is My Homeboy by @icanfeelastormbrewing and @what-is-your-plan-today/@what-is-your-backupplan-today featuring Jake Jensen x OC Stella Stevenson. Stella and Jake are preparing a stag party for Pooch when looking at pictures brings the two of them down memory lane to a Christmas celebration filled with good memories for the both of them. Warnings- Smut, Swears, Drinking.

The Christmas Pickle by @thefanficfaerie featuring Steve Rogers x Reader. The Reader has a Christmas Tradition that requires a glass ornament pickle. Steve decides to join in on the family tradition and gets to hide it away for the other avengers to find for a special gift. Fluff

Search For The Perfect Tree by @theenchantedgalleryofstories featuring Chris Evans x Evangeline Blackwood. Evangeline has joined Chris’s family for her first New England Christmas. Fluff

The Highest Bidder Epilogue by @pagesoflauren featuring Ransom Drysdale x Reader. Its Christmas time and readers family is all arriving for the holidays. Ransom will get a first look at how his wife celebrates the season. A beautiful ending the The Highest Bidder and I highly suggest taking a look at the series. Warnings- Smut. Also Ransom also being completely lost shopping.

Freezing Cold by @steebsbabygirl featuring Steve Rogers x Reader. Steve and Reader are going away for a Christmas Vacation, thanks to Tony. A snowy cabin for the holiday? what could be better? Cuddles! all the super soldier cuddles in this beautiful snowy escape. Beautiful! Fluff

Pretending by @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad featuring Sam Winchester x Reader. Sam and Reader are old friends during Sams college days. After reconnecting their friendship, reader has a favor to ask. Of course Sam is ready for the challenge... pretending to be her boyfriend during her families Christmas Party. Fluff

You’re A Mean One by @stargazingfangirl18 featuring Frank Adler x Reader. Frank is a bit grumpy with Reader and Mary around the Holidays. His two girls playing a prank on him. But Reader is happy to make it up to him, and it is the holidays after all. His heart grows three sizes that year. Among other things. Warnings- Smut.

New Year Woes by @just-one-ordinary-fangirl featuring Steve Rogers x Reader. New Years Eve is here and you have to spend the holiday alone because Steve is stuck out on a mission. Its hard to hide the dissapointment from Steve no matter how hard you try when he tells you. But its the season of surprises, maybe Steve has one in store for you. Fluff

Not-So-Secret Santa by @navybrat817 featuring Bucky Barnes x Reader. Its secret santa time and Bucky wants to make sure his gift is PERFECT for you. With Alpines help and encouragment, he is sure to wrap the precious gift. When the party commences, the team is sure to encourage this beautiful moment between you two. Fluff.

The Pack: Silent Night, Holy Night by @sweater-daddiesdumbdork featuring Alpha Steve Rogers and Little One Reader. It’s your first Christmas with the Alpha, and Steve falls in love with the holiday all over again because of you. Warnings- Smut

In Love And ... by @bananapie99 featuring Bucky Barnes x Reader. The snow is falling and you can not contain that child like excitment for the occassion. Bucky isnt quite as enthusiastic, but you are able to bring him around to sharing snowy day fun and love. Fluff.

My Snowy Valentine by @twittytelly featuring Chris Evans x Reader. Sometimes the best things are the simple things. Like getting snowed in at home on valentines day. The world just consists of you two and Dodger spending some quality time together. Fluff.

Slush and a Side of Toys Part One by @redhairedfeistynerd featuring Chris Evans x Reader. You are much to busy getting ready for the holiday seasons, your time donated to the children who deserve the magic of Christmas. You dont have time for one Blue Eyed individual checking up on you. But you cant control the memories of the past that he brings up with one little text message. Smut

#ssholidaychallenge #holiday #holiday 2020 #winter fics #holiday fics

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writeroutoftime · 4 years

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march fic recommendations

hello! so I think we all know that sometimes we don’t appreciate writers as much as we should here on tumblr. they are amazing people that write some wonderful stories for us (for free) and they put a lot of time and effort into doing so. to honor that, each month, I’m going to be posting a fic rec list with a whole bunch of stories I have recently read and loved, and that I want to share with you all. and if you find some you like? let that author know their work is appreciated!! (let’s all support authors more!)

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hold My Girl by @captain-ariel-barnes - this one HURTS let me just tell you. it is absolutely beautiful and does a wonderful job at not only portraying bucky, but also the feeling that I'm sure a lot of couples who were split up because of wwii felt. like I said this story is amazing but it left me crying and my heart hurting - in the best way possible!

Soft by @chillingbucky - oh my goodness did this story hit home for me. for the most part, I’ve been pretty confident with my body but also have wanted to change to boost that confidence even more and then felt worse when I didn’t stick through with my new plan.this story perfectly encapsulates those feelings and it nearly brought me to tears over how incredible bucky was at comforting the reader. when I read this it was the first story I read that day and it put me in such a great mindset!!

Lifelong Love Song Series by @suz-123 - even though this is not a bucky x reader (it’s an oc), this story is beautiful and the way it portrays bucky just feels so right and so spot on. there is fluff, angst, hurt, comfort, love, everything in this story. you should definitely read this series!

The House by @softlybarnes - ahhhh!! that is what I have to say for this story because it is so darn cute! bucky just makes me swoon (as always) and there is a great relationship between him and the reader! also, now I really want to fall in love and buy a fixer-upper house with the guy I marry. overall, if you want something fluffy that is extremely well written, this is one of those stories.

Truth Hurts by @ussgallifreyfics - this story is so different than other fics that tackle this same topic, but it the best way possible! the beginning hurts, but slowly bucky starts to come into the story and it is so sweet. not only that, but there is a lot of power from within the reader, which is AWESOME! heck yeah we can rescue ourselves (but if Bucky wants to help as well, I won’t be mad lol)

Lemon Pie Series by @nacho-bucky - I have reread this series like three times already, and it is just perfection! not only do we get 40′s bucky, but we get a HAPPY BUCKY WHO SURVIVES THE WAR AND GETS TO START A FAMILY! Each chapter/snippet is just so beautifully written, and I get pulled into the story each and ever time. bucky just makes me want to swoon, and if I don’t find someone who treats me the way bucky treats the reader in this series, I do not what I will do. but, this and all cait’s stories are amazing so please go read this, it will make your day!

Thomas Shelby x Reader

If Only You Knew by @im-not-looking-for-forgiveness - while this is technically a tommy x reader story, it really focuses on the friendship between the reader and lizzie stark, which I absolutely loved! it is such a healthy change to see lizzie portrayed in a nice way instead of a bitch as she often is written in stories. we love girls supporting girls, which is this story!

My Dear Charlie by @kadwrites -again, another story that is technically tommy x reader, but focuses on a different relationship, and this time it is between the reader and charlie! what I love about this story is, it highlights the love that one can feel for a child that isn’t biologically theirs, which is just a reminder of how important it is to show our love to others and to demonstrate our appreciation to those who do love us. also, I love that this story focuses on an older charlie, which is something I haven’t really seen yet.

Matches by @rhxegals - now this one really does focus on tommy and the reader, and I adore it! we get to see the reader confront tommy and I love when the reader is his equal in the sense that neither of them stand for being lied to or being left out of things. not only that, but we also see a more vulnerable side of tommy, and we get to understand his protective side a bit more which I am also a fan of!

this drabble by @connerkennt - it is short and sweet but powerful! it really shows (again) how protective tommy is over those he loves and I adore protective tommy! (alfie also plays a role in this drabble, which is always a plus!)

John Shelby x Reader

Something Unexplained by @justauthoring - man do I love john shelby, and if you do too, this is the story for you. just the way that olivia describes how john loves the reader makes my heart absolutely gush! I don’t want to spoil anything, so you just have to read it! (and there are so many other wonderful stories on this blog to check out after you finish this one!)

Steve Rogers x Reader

Beauty and the Beast AU by @kayteewritessteve - I am so so glad I found this story when I did so that I can include it on this list! au’s are some of my favorite stories to read/write, and the fact that this is beauty and the beast and mob!steve is absolutely amazing!! kaytee does such a wonderful job with drawing you into the story and really making you feel the power and emotions of the scene! only the first few chapters are up now, but they are great!

Peter Parker x Reader

Moving On by @midtownpetey - my goodness, this one really hits right in the feels! I was tearing up throughout this entire story, because it is so beautifully written and really highlights the process of moving on when losing a loved one. it is not a graphic story, but the healing aspect, learning to move on when you feel like you can’t, that’s really what got me!

Harry Potter x Reader

Under the Stars by @lvmosity - this story is just pure fluff and it’s an actually harry potter story, which I feel like is so rare here on tumblr. anyway, I love how it’s just the reader and the golden trio worried about getting dates for the yule ball! there’s no underlying threat, just teens being teens, and harry being adorably awkward!

Scott Lang x Reader

Blue Dresses and Daises by @mypassionsarenysins - I just want to take this moment to appreciate the heck out of this story because it is absolutely amazing! not only is it a scott lang story (who is severely underappreciated! which why? he’s a dork and it’s paul rudd!) but this story is just filled with so much love that it makes me so happy and smiley. definitely a good one if you’re feeling down or you just want something extra fluffy!

Bonnie Gold x Reader

Ring Girl by @blinder-secrets - okay so I recently just got into bonnie gold stories, and man am I glad I did because this one is wonderful! bonnie is just so cute but he is also so protective over the reader, and it makes my heart swell! I love when you can feel how intense a relationship is through writing, and that’s what this is.

Roger Taylor x Reader

Hold Me Close Before I Go by @queenrogah - sobbing, just pure sobbing! well first of all, this story is slightly inspired by the song ‘so close’ from enchanted and I LOVE that song, so I was hooked from the beginning. but this story is very angsty but also mixes together so beautiful to tell this story of lost love between roger and the reader. it combines the past and the present so well, that truly tugs at your heartstrings for an emotional roller-coaster that is so worth it!

Long Distance by @dreamer821 - alright this is super long, but I promise it is so worth reading!! from the beginning, I was hooked and I got to witness this amazing story and all the love there is between roger and the reader. there is a bit of smut in this story, but the whole story really goes to show how powerful love is even when two people aren’t always near each other. it’s one of those stories that can restore your faith in love!

Laurie Laurence x Reader

Lost Love by @lotsoffandomimagines - ever since I saw little women in theaters, I have been looking for a laurie story, and this is the first one I found. oh my goodness, it is AMAZING, and I truly hope that there is a second part. but this story just draws you in and makes you fall for laurie, then comes there with that ending! I know I’m not describing this as best as I could, but trust me, the writing is beautiful and it wonderfully emotional. go read it! (also the gif of laurie is perfect!)

What I Wished I Said by @lillie-writes - do you want an angsty laurie story? well, here you go! this story is the form of the letter, and it made me tear up by the time I reached the end. it is so simple, but so heartbreaking. you can just feel how much laurie loves the reader and how much he wants to apologize, and I just wanted to find a way to hug him and comfort him. you will not be disappointed with this story!

Ransom Drysdale x Reader (Knives Out)

this drabble by @terry-perry- oh my goodness!! alright, first, I love knives out, and second, I love chris evans as ransom drysdale in that movie even though he is an asshole. however, this drabble does a wonderful job at showing a different side of ransom and how dedicated he and the reader are to their relationship!

Haunted by @et-lesailes = this is such a powerful story! now there is a trigger warning for this one so please be mindful of that but this story does a wonderful job at tackling such a difficult topic and how sometimes opening to another person can be exactly what you did. (and we also get to see more soft, non-asshole ransom which is always great!)

#march fic rec #fic rec #bucky barnes x reader #peaky blinders imagine #roger taylor x reader #peter parker x reader #laurie laurence x reader #marvel x reader #steve rogers x reader #scott lang x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #harry potter x reader

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songtoyou · 4 years

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Chapter One: West Bridgewater

Paring: Ransom Drysdale x Fabiola Rossi (OC)

Rating: This story will mostly be rated 18+ as it is revolves around a relationship that is Dominant/submissive. For each chapter, I will do my best to rate it accordingly, but please know that the overall story will have very adult themes.

Warnings: None for this chapter

Word Count: 2,305

Description: Huge “Ransom” Drysdale always thought of himself as a powerful man. With his family’s money and status, Ransom could get away with anything. He had the power and control others would envy. Ransom could get any woman he wanted with a snap of his fingers. He was always in charge. He commanded attention. And he hated it. Never having a job in his life (thanks to his mother, father, and grandfather always there to supplement his bank account) or any real-life goals, Ransom felt incomplete and directionless. That is until Fabiola Rossi entered his life and turned it completely upside down.

A/N: I have not seen Knives Out. This is an AU of that world. I do not own any of the characters created by Rian Johnson. I have always thought of Ransom as a sub rather than a Dominant and this idea has been on my mind constantly that I needed to write it down. Anything in italics are to represent Ransom’s thoughts.

I do not permit any of my fics to be distributed on other sites without my permission.

Updated for grammar and punctuation edits.

What is a dominant-submissive relationship all about? As mentioned previously, there is an energy dynamic between the two partners. It is the Dominant’s duty to protect and guide his or her submissive. The submissive, also called “the bottom,” relinquishes some or all control to the Dominant. He or she is playing out their own kinds and fetishes through the guidance of a Dominant. No actions or scenes can be played out unless the submissive has consented to everything the Dominant plans to do during a play session. A D/s relationship is not solely about sexual activities but exploring new and interesting ways to connect beyond sex. For example, the Dominate can set up simple rules that the submissive must follow, such as asking permission to stay out late or have ice cream for dessert. A healthy D/s relationship can lead to a life of self-improvement.

“You got some mouth on you…I bet a ball gag would fit nicely around those pretty lips of yours.”

For some reason, Ransom could not get that comment out of his head. It was so unexpected and out of leftfield. He never had a woman said anything so bold towards him. No stranger to bondage with the opposite sex, it was always Ransom who was the one in charge. Women were more than happy for him to lead the charge. It was the only time Ransom was ever put to work, so to speak. Fabiola Rossi had managed to not only mystify the spoiled playboy, but he was not determined to find out more about her.

So, Ransom did one any person in their mid-30s did when trying to find information about another person, he stalked her social media. He came up short. No Twitter, Facebook, or Instagram that he could find of her unless they were private.

“This is Fabiola Rossi. She is an inspiring editor herself. I have taken her under my wing as a mentor.” Ransom remembered from the night before when creepy old Charlie Van Houten introduced his grandfather and him to Fabiola.

Of course, Fabiola had a LinkedIn page as she was a young working professional. Ransom saw that she graduated with a Bachelor of Arts in English and a minor in Psychology at Boston University. He noticed it had only been five years since she graduated from the university, so he suspected she was in her late twenties. Most of the jobs Fabiola received were internships or part-time positions. Not unusual for graduates looking to enter into the workforce. There was not much to offer due to the Baby Boomers not wanting to retire or companies being stingy with providing decent living wages or health benefits.

“Intern. Van Houten & Thompson Publishing. March 2019 to current. Performs proofreading and editing of manuscripts and additional documents before the final publication,” Ransom read out loud as he continued to look through Fabiola’s profile.

He got up to reach for his coat to pull out his wallet. Inside was a business card of Charlie’s that he gave Ransom before leaving his grandfather’s party. Charlie told Ransom to keep in touch and that they both could talk about possibly working together.

“If you have been working on anything, send it over. In fact, send it over to Fabiola. She’d probably love to read it and give you feedback. Give him your email address, honey. Any work you send over to her will be in great hands,” Ransom remembered Charlie saying to him last night. He looked over the business card and traced his thumb over Fabiola’s handwriting of her email address.

He could not understand why this particular woman intrigued him so, despite only meeting her briefly the night before. However, Ransom knew he had an itch to scratch, and it was better to get it taken care of now before things got too out of hand. Before he became too obsessed.

Turning on his laptop, he waited for it to boot up. Opening his email account, Ransom began composing a new email to Fabiola. He kept it short and simple by asking if she was still up looking over what he was currently working on.

Hi Ms. Rossi,

It was a pleasure meeting you last night. Hope you are doing well. If you are not too busy, do you mind if I send over the story I am currently working on? I do not want to impose if your schedule is too busy, but Charlie had such high praise for you, and I would appreciate the feedback and insight from you.

Talk to you soon,

Ransom

He clicked the ‘send’ button and waited. Thankfully, he did not have to wait too long for a response back.

Hi Ransom,

I am so glad you reached out. Please call me Fabiola.

Yes, I would be more than happy to beta read anything you send over.

Sincerely,

Fabiola

“Hook, line, and sinker,” Ransom said to himself with a smirk plastering over his face. He knew exactly which of his work he would send over. It was one Ransom had finished a while back. A story about the measures of what a mother would do to prove her child’s innocence when they are accused of a crime. It was one of his more personal pieces of work. He was somewhat anxious to get feedback on it. He sent it over to Fabiola as an attachment. Now, Ransom was in wait and see mode. ‘Who knows how long until she gets to actually reading it,’ he thought to himself.

Three long agonizing days later, Ransom finally heard back from Fabiola when he checked his email that afternoon.

Ransom,

How are you?

Sorry I have not gotten back to you sooner. Your story is amazing! I could not put it down. I actually read it twice. It had me on the edge of my seat the entire time and had a lot of heart. You are such a good writer.

I do have some suggestions for you if you do not mind. However, I do not want to merely give them to you via email or comments in the document. Would it be okay if the two of us meet up for coffee sometime this week? It would be easier to talk to you about the recommendations face-to-face.

Any suggestions on where we could meet up? I don’t mind traveling to your neck of the woods if it is more convenient for you.

Fabiola

Ransom was thrilled that not only did she like his work but was willing to meet him in person. He quickly wrote her back suggesting a meeting at a little coffee shop in West Bridgewater. It would only be a 34-minute drive for Fabiola to get to him. Honestly, Ransom was a bit taken aback that she was willing to drive all the way out to the boonies to talk to him in person.

The two decided to meet up on Saturday afternoon at The Bridge Coffee House, a new town establishment. A Starbucks it was not, thankfully.

When Saturday finally rolled around, Ransom dressed in his usual simple attire: gray cardigan, white long-sleeve shirt underneath, dark blue jeans, and Louis Vuitton black loafers. He gave himself a look over in the mirror one last time; he exited the house, got in his 1972 BMW 3.0 CSi, and headed to the coffee shop.

Once there, Ransom ordered an espresso and settled in a seat near the corner, but still visible for Fabiola to see him. As Ransom waited for Fabiola to arrive, his leg was shaking underneath the table. He was nervous, which was an unusual feeling for Ransom. Women hardly ever made Ransom nervous, but the woman he was meeting was for business, not pleasure.

‘Note yet at least,” Ransom thought to himself as he sipped his espresso.

The ding of the bell on the entrance door made Ransom lookup. There Fabiola was wearing a white long-sleeved fitted sweater with light blue jeans, white sneakers, and a light gray messenger bag slung over her shoulder. She looked around and noticed Ransom. Giving him a smile and wave, Fabiola made her way over to him. He stood up as she neared the table.

“Hi. How are you?” she asked and stuck out her hand for Ransom to shake.

He reciprocated the gesture and replied, “I’m good. Do you want something to drink? My treat.”

Fabiola accepted Ransom’s offer with an iced tea. “Is there a restroom around that I could use?”

Ransom pointed to where the restrooms were, and Fabiola excused herself while he got her iced tea. Paying for the iced tea, Ransom went back to the table and proceeded to wait again.

“That was quite a drive,” spoke Fabiola as she sat down in the seat across from Ransom, “Gorgeous scenery. I tend to not venture too far outside of Boston much.”

“Yeah, it is a nice quiet town. Not much goes on here.”

“I’m kind of surprised that you don’t choose to live in Boston. Figured you would want to be in a more urban area,” said Fabiola.

Ransom shifted in his seat to cross his legs, “I used to live in Boston during my 20s. Decided to move here a couple of years ago. Helped clear my head a little.”

Taking a sip of her iced tea, Fabiola asked, “Is that when you really began to write?”

Ransom let out a small laugh and cleared his throat, “Yeah…I just…needed a hobby to preoccupy my time.”

“Well, I have to tell you that it was a good idea,” said Fabiola as she began to rummage through her bag and pulled out a binder to place on the table.

“This story is outstanding,” she complimented.

Ransom felt the heat on his cheeks from her praise. It felt good to have someone appreciate his work, which was not a feeling he was used to.

“I do have some questions if you don’t mind me asking? Nothing bad, just some clarifications.”

“Sure. Ask away,” Ransom responded casually. He was doing his best to not seem too eager.

“What made you decide to have the main character a mother rather than a father? I ask that because, normally, male authors tend to write the protagonist as male. You don’t really see many male authors write crime novels with a main female character,” Fabiola pointed out and went on to tell him, “You also wrote the character really well. Like, she feels like a real person. She was fully developed and fleshed out. I was totally rooting for her throughout the whole story. And the side characters are nicely written as well. Each chapter kept the reader on its toes. You never knew what to expect. Nothing felt forced or out of place. Nothing dragged on. Here is a copy of my notes. Nothing too major. Only certain suggestions like clarification or more descriptive details for certain paragraphs.”

Ransom looked at her incredibly detailed notes. “I appreciate you doing this. Thank you,” Ransom said earnestly.

“Do you plan on getting that published?” Fabiola asked him.

Letting out a light chuckle, Ransom told her that most likely he would not.

“Why?”

“I prefer to write for myself. Not for an audience. Plus, there is the likelihood that I’ll get compared to my grandfather or people thinking that nepotism is involved,” answered Ransom as he continued to flip through Fabiola’s notes.

Fabiola merely sat back and took the time to really look at the man before her. With dark hair and blue eyes, a strong jaw, and a somewhat crooked nose, Fabiola could not deny that he was handsome. Before the meeting, Fabiola asked Charlie about what he knew about Ransom. Boy, she got an honest earful from Charlie. While Charlie complimented Ransom, there was a hint of pity in his voice.

“He’s got so much potential, but he wastes it with booze and women. The poor boy did have a stint in rehab when he was younger. It’s so parents of his. Always giving him money instead of love and affection,” Charlie shared with Fabiola.

“You don’t want to fail at the one thing you believe you are actually good at,” Fabiola stated to Ransom and added, “So, it is easier to not put yourself out there in the first place.”

Scoffing, Ransom sat back and stared at Fabiola. Now it was his turn to really look at the woman before him. With her long dark hair, brown eyes, and slender figure, he had to admit to himself that she was beautiful. But he could tell that there was more to this woman than meets the eye.

“You like to think you have me all figured out, don’t you? You think I’m some poor little rich poor?” Ransom asked with a hint of defensiveness in his voice.

“Yes,” Fabiola simply said as she folded her arms to rest on the table and continued, “You’re not some riddle, Ransom. You are quite easy to figure out. Just as I mentioned to you at the party, you are bored. However, it is not the excitement that you seek. Instead, you want guidance. You want someone to look after you and care for you. You want to surrender control. Am I wrong? Tell me I’m wrong, and I’ll shut up.”

With his silence, she had her answer.

“I can give you what you need, but to do that, we need to develop trust between one another,” Fabiola communicated and reached out to grip one of Ransom’s hands. She entwined her fingers within his.

“How much?” Ransom spoke up as they looked at their entangled hands.

Fabiola shook her head and clarified, “Nothing. I’m not proposing you sex Ransom. I’m proposing to you something completely different. What do you know about BDSM or a D/s relationship?”

#chris evans #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x ofc

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brucebannerxtonystark · 4 years

Text

AO3 - Bruce Banner x Tony Stark

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3ao6EK6

by Hadali23

Una manada unida es una manada fuerte. Una manada separada es una manada débil. Un Alfa con Omega es un Alfa respetado. Un Alfa sin Omega es una deshonra. Los Omegas han perdido la batalla y los Alfas dominan el mundo. El mundo no es seguro y regresar con su manada puede ser más difícil de lo que Ransom pudo imaginar, además no sabia si era lo mejor, después de todo Steve Rogers ahora era conocido como el Capitán Hydra, su padre era el líder de aquella organización que prometio acabar.

Words: 910, Chapters: 1/?, Language: Español

Series: Part 2 of No todo es tradición

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Knives Out (2019), Marvel

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: F/M, M/M, Multi

Characters: Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Ransom Drysdale, Peter Parker, Harry Potter, Harley Keener, Johnny Storm, James "Bucky" Barnes, Sam Wilson (Marvel), James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Stephen Strange, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Pietro Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff, Everett Ross, Bruce Banner, Helen Cho (Marvel), T'Challa (Marvel), Original Characters, Nick Fury, Phil Coulson, Victor von Doom, Justin Hammer, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, Severus Snape, Brock Rumlow, Blaise Zabini

Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Tony Stark/Stephen Strange, Bruce Banner/Tony Stark, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark, Tony Stark & Avengers Team, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark, Clint Barton/Tony Stark, Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes & Tony Stark, Natasha Romanov/Tony Stark, Clint Barton & Tony Stark, Harley Keener & Tony Stark, Tony Stark & Stephen Strange, Peter Parker & Steve Rogers & Tony Stark, Harley Keener & Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Tony Stark/Sam Wilson, Phil Coulson & Tony Stark, Nick Fury & Tony Stark, Wanda Maximoff & Tony Stark, Tony Stark/Avengers Team, Harry Potter & Tony Stark, Hulk & Tony Stark, Pietro Maximoff & Tony Stark, Tony Stark & Johnny Storm, Ransom Drysdale & Tony Stark, Scott Lang & Tony Stark, Tony Stark & Original Character(s), James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson, James "Rhodey" Rhodes/T'Challa, Clint Barton/Pietro Maximoff, Bruce Banner/Natasha Romanov, Everett Ross/Stephen Strange, Tony Stark/Victor von Doom, Peter Parker & Steve Rogers, Harry Potter & Steve Rogers, Harley Keener & Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Johnny Storm, Steve Rogers & Ransom Drysdale

Additional Tags: OC - character - Freeform, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alpha Steve Rogers, Omega Verse, Omega Tony Stark, Omega Harry, Protective Steve, Protective ransom, Protective Avengers, Protective Natasha Romanov, Alternate Universe, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Dom/sub, Mpreg, Violence, Protective Peter Parker, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Hurt Peter Parker, Howard Stark's Bad Parenting, Depressing, Sad, Crying, Relationship Problems, Difficult Decisions, Tony Feels, Bottom Tony Stark, Sub Tony Stark, Tony Angst, Hurt Tony Stark, Top Steve Rogers, Alternate Universe - Hydra Won (Marvel), Hydra (Marvel), Sub Tony, Implied/Referenced Torture, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Blood and Violence, Blood and Torture, Magic, Stony - Freeform, Tony Stark Has Issues, Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Manipulative Harry, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Bad Albus Dumbledore, Angst and Tragedy, Heavy Angst, Good Severus Snape, Severus Snape Has a Heart, Good Harry Potter, Good Peter, Good Ransom, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Tony Stark is Good With Kids, Tony Stark Feels, Pack Family, Pack Bonding, Protective Pack, Manipulation, Protective Nick Fury, Hogwarts

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3ao6EK6

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #bruce banner x tony stark #avengers

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babyjakes · 2 years

Text

softie | 9. for the first time.

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

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summary | ransom drysdale is the last person anyone would suspect to be a doting father. but when a paternity test reveals his relation to four year old georgia pine, the man finds himself turning into quite the softie for the peculiar little girl who’s been in such desperate need of his love and care.

characters | soft!dad!ransom drysdale, georgia pine (original character)

warnings | mature themes related to child abuse/neglect, ptsd/trauma symptoms in a child (developmental discrepancies, de-humanized behavior, detachment, extreme fears). loss(mother) and gain(father) of custody. unknown/secret child trope. soft!ransom, soft!dad!ransom. lots of hurt/comfort.

As soon as Georgia’s wide eyes land on the two plates of food sitting on the kitchen counter, her legs freeze beneath her, startling Ransom as the little girl comes to a halt. Following her gaze to the steaming meal, the man frowns, now remembering the problems the child seems to face whenever offered food. Bottom lip trembling, Georgia swallows, the lump in her throat so big that Ransom can hear as she tries to make it disappear.

Turning back to face the anxiety-stricken girl, Ransom explains evenly, “I made us a nice breakfast. There’s eggs, toast, and sausage. You can have milk if you like, or I have orange juice. I wasn’t sure which you’d prefer.”

Barely able to look up at him, Georgia stumbles over her words. “I… can’t, sir… not allowed… can only have scraps.”

With guilt rising in his chest, Ransom does his best to put on a gentle smile, shaking his head at the child’s distressing words. “In this house, Georgia, you’re allowed to eat whatever you want. There’s plenty of food for the both of us, both in the fridge and in the cabinets. Scraps aren’t enough, sweetheart; you need real food to make you healthy and strong.” Though his words are meant to soothe the little one’s fears, Ransom frowns as he sees they’ve instead only worsened her state of panic. “Hey,” he hums, lowering himself to the ground to get even with the girl. “It’s alright, I know this must be scary. We’ll take things slow; it’s okay to have an adjusting period. How can I help you feel safer?”

Gulping again, Georgia attempts to blink back the tears in her eyes. “Sh-shred it up again? Maybe… won’t get in trouble that way.”

Nodding, Ransom agrees. “Alright, sweetheart. I can do that for you, but I want you to know that even if you ate the food just as it is, there would be no getting in trouble for you. You’re never going to be in trouble with me, alright? If something comes up, all we’ll do is talk about it. But I won’t ever discipline you like you were before; what happened to you was cruel and wrong.”

Georgia blinks, not seeming to know how to answer Ransom’s truthful words. Understanding, the man returns to his feet, letting go of the little girl’s hand as he makes his way over to the counter. “Y’know, guess it isn’t such a bad idea to cut this all up and throw it together,” he tries to lighten the mood as he prepares the food to the child’s preference, trying to make it look like a nice breakfast mash on the plate. Pausing for a moment, Ransom asks, “Is it alright with you if I shred mine up, too? Looks yummy this way!” he comments.

Looking up at him with wide eyes, Georgia surprises Ransom by nodding, a tiny hint of wonder shimmering in her gaze. Smiling down at her, the man grabs the food, carrying it to the table before pausing again. “Would you like to sit up at the table, sweetheart? It’s okay if you’d prefer the floor again, too. Just wanna do whatever’s most comfortable for you.”

Padding her socked feet over softly to stand at Ransom’s side, Georgia requests politely, “Floor… please? Can’t sit up there, not allowed.”

“Well sure you’re allowed, honey, but if you’d feel better sitting on the rug, of course we can. Would it be okay for me to sit down here with you?” Ransom asks as he folds his legs under him, setting the plates down on the woven fabric as he turns back to look at the child beside him. Eyes still wide, Georgia nods, as if she was completely expecting to have to sit through another meal at the man’s feet. “Great, thank you,” Ransom says with a smile as he gets back on his feet, “I’d much rather sit with you and keep you company instead of being all by myself. Now which would you like, sweetheart, some milk or some orange juice?”

“I- just… w-water?” Georgia questions, a look of uncertainty unfolding on her tender face.

“Sure thing, kiddo. You want ice in there?” Making sure to keep his expression friendly as she politely shakes her head, Ransom nods, going into an overhead cabinet and searching around. “Let’s see… the normal ones might be a little heavy for you,” he thinks aloud, grinning when his eyes land on a set of floral patterned paper cups. Grabbing one for the child, he walks to the sink, filling it a little more than half-way before grabbing his own drink, a glass of milk that’s been sitting out since the man prepared the meal.

“This look okay?” Ransom asks as he returns to their spot on the rug, handing the little girl the cup. “We can get you some fun cups when we go out shopping later, but for now, I bet this’ll be much easier than my big clunky glasses.”

“Y-yes, thank you,” little Georgia stutters, big eyes admiring the pretty flowers covering the cup.

“You like the design? I bet we can find all sorts of cool patterns at the store. Maybe even some Disney ones!”

“D-Disney?” the girl repeats as the pair take a seat on the rug, slowly beginning to eat their meal together.

“That’s the kind of movie you were watching last night,” Ransom tells her as he chews a bite of egg. “It’s called The Little Mermaid, it’s one of the best.”

“Mer-maid,” Georgia says slowly, a small smile forming on her face as she takes a bite of her own food. “So cool! Sings so pretty, too,” the little girl beams.

“That’s right, she is cool, isn’t she? And that voice, wish I could sing like that. Her name’s Ariel, by the way,” Ransom informs the child, an adoring smile crossing his face as he watches Georgia almost bouncing in her seat with delight.

“Ariel!” Georgia cheers, and as she thumps her foot excitedly while taking her next bite, for a moment, Ransom feels as if he’s in a way meeting his daughter for the first time in his life. For a split second, all of her fears and cares have disappeared; the walls she was forced to build up so high to protect herself have come crumbling down, revealing just Georgia: untainted, untouched.

“-under the sea, under the sea!” the girl sings softly, bringing Ransom back from his trailing thoughts. Chuckling, Ransom takes a sip of his milk, sighing happily as he thinks to himself, boy, this can’t be good. Not even a day in and she’s already got me wrapped around her finger. Maybe we should look for an Ariel doll at the store.

“You wanna go shopping after breakfast, sweetheart?” Ransom asks, his heart aching a little to see the smile beginning to fade from Georgia’s shining face.

“I… b-but… don’t have any money,” the child opposes once again.

Shaking his head patiently, Ransom gently reminds her, “That’s alright, honey. You’re not expected to pay for anything, okay? Not a single thing while you’re here. Money and stuff like that is for grown-ups to worry about, yeah?” Frowning, Georgia doesn’t respond. “And if you’re gonna be here for the next few days, at least, then I think we’re gonna need a little bit more than just the car seat your social worker provided and the bag of shit from Meg.”

“Shit,” Georgia repeats innocently, eyes widening as Ransom fumbles to take back his words.

“I-I meant ‘stuff’, bag of stuff. Must’ve just- I just said it wrong,” he coughs, unable to keep from laughing slightly as the poor girl continues to look up at him obliviously. “Anyway, as I was saying, we can throw together a list before we go and just pick up the essentials for now, how’s that sound? There’s even an ice cream place on the way back. You have a favorite flavor?” he asks.

“Ice cream,” Georgia says, eyes now wider than ever before. “Never had it,” she admits, “but saw it once, maybe in a book.”

“Never had ice cream?” Ransom fakes shock, clasping his hand over his chest dramatically to earn a round of giggles from the little girl. “Well then, we must stop and get some. It’s one of the essentials, that’s for sure.”

“You’ve had it?” Georgia asks through a bite of her toast, causing Ransom to nod playfully.

“Maybe a few more times than medically advised, but yes, sweetheart. I’ve had ice cream. I think strawberry’s the best, though chocolate comes in a close second. The place we’ll stop at has a ton of flavors; they’ve got an entire board up with all the names and pictures. Don’t you worry, kiddo. We’re gonna make sure your first ice cream experience is nothing but the best.”

“Allowed to eat it, too?” Georgia asks softly, Ransom’s heart breaking at the thought of the child being bought such a special treat only to not be able to enjoy it.

“Of course you’re allowed to, silly,” the man assures her gently, locking eyes with her in hopes of showing her he means it. “You and me can eat it together; they’ve got a nice set of benches right outside, okay?”

“O-okay,” Georgia reluctantly agrees, surprising Ransom a little by smiling up at him softly. “Thank you, Mr. Ransom.”

“Just Ransom is fine, sweetheart,” he replies, trying to keep his voice from catching in his throat. “And it’s no problem, honey. Really, it’s my pleasure.”

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#softie #softie: for the first time #eun's writing #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale series #ransom drysdale au #ransom drysdale x oc #ransom drysdale x child!oc #dad!ransom drysdale #soft!ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale angst #ransom drysdale fluff #hurt comfort #knives out #knives out fanfiction #knives out au

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babyjakes · 2 years

Text

softie | 8. a new day.

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characters | soft!dad!ransom drysdale, georgia pine (original character)

When morning finally comes, Ransom wakes slowly to the gentle rays of the sun shining in through the large glass doors in front of him, gradually warming his face as his eyes begin to flutter open. Looking around, he finds himself lying out flat on his back with little Georgia still wrapped up in the brown blanket with her head now tucked under his chin. Her breaths are quiet and even against the man as he brings a hand up to wrap around her back, holding her steady against him as he shifts up to a sitting position. Thankfully, the movement doesn’t seem to stir the child in the least. Sighing, Ransom decides to take another chance and rise to his feet, carefully making his way over to the cream colored couch and settling down against the soft cushions which prove to be much more comfortable than the wooden floor.

Glancing over at the large decorative clock on the wall, he sees that it’s nearing 8:00 am. Slept surprisingly well, given the circumstances, he notes to himself. Looking down at the little girl curled up in his arms, his heart breaks a little at the tears still stained onto her freckled cheeks. Kid sleeps like a rock, he chuckles to himself quietly. Makes sense, though. After a nightmare like that…

Ransom’s thoughts are interrupted by a low grumbling in his stomach. Might be time for some breakfast, he supposes. Glancing at the empty portion of the couch beside him, he sighs, not liking the idea of putting the little girl down. It’ll only take fifteen minutes, tops, he reassures himself, though still groaning a little as he shifts Georgia over against one of the throw pillows, making sure her blanket is situated with her lamb near her face before he pulls away. Pausing for a moment, he looks over the child once more. “Looks more like her dad than I thought,” he whispers, noticing a few features of her face that match up almost perfectly to his: her heavy eyelashes, sharp jawline, and of course, the adorable patches of freckles covering her nose and cheeks. “Alright, kiddo. I’m gonna go make us something to eat,” he murmurs to her softly, even though he’s certain she can’t hear him.

Rising up from the couch, Ransom’s sure to be quiet as he makes his way into the kitchen, quickly pulling out what he needs to make a nice breakfast of eggs, toast, and sausage. Soon, two pans are heating on the stove as the man whisks, pours, and tosses, the warm scent of the food rising up through the entire first floor as he cooks away. Before long, the food’s finished and plated, dishes rinsed and tossed in the dishwasher under the counter. Checking the time before heading back out to the living room, Ransom’s relieved to find he’s only been away for fourteen minutes.

As he approaches the couch where Georgia lies once more, Ransom can’t help from smiling softly as he sees the little child curled up where he left her, thumb tucked into her mouth as she sleeps peacefully. Lowering himself gently to the ground, he takes a seat in front of her, almost wondering if it wouldn’t be best to just let her continue to rest.

Don’t want the food to get cold, he ultimately decides after a few minutes of just watching the girl sleep. As gently as he can, he reaches out his hand, placing it on her shoulder through the soft fabric of the blanket before beginning to speak in a low, soothing voice. “Georgia. Georgia, hey.” As he shakes her shoulder a bit, the child’s heavy eyelids begin to flutter, soon opening up to reveal her wide bambi eyes.

At the sight of Ransom so close to her face, Georgia flinches and drops her thumb, appearing startled as she stares back at the man in front of her. “Oh, sorry,” he says quickly, pulling his hand back and frowning. “Didn’t mean to startle you. I made us some- oh, hey,” he begins to fuss gently at the child as she begins to shake, squirming slightly in the blanket she’s wrapped up in as her wide eyes dart around in disorientation.

“Oh, bet you’re a little confused, huh?” Ransom figures, trying to send her a comforting smile as he explains, “I came down last night and you didn’t seem very comfortable on the floor. Decided to- uh, to give you a blanket and move you somewhere a little softer. That’s all,” he soothes, wishing he knew how to make her terrified expression disappear.

“Sh-Sheepy,” the girl whimpers, tears building up in her eyes as her bottom lip wobbles.

“Sheepy? Oh- oh, here,” Ransom says, reaching out and pushing the plush toy up closer to the child’s face. Georgia flinches back harshly at his nearing hand, causing the man’s heart to break right in two. “Hey,” he murmurs, brow creasing in worry as he looks at the trembling girl. “He’s right here, see? Made sure he stayed with you. His name’s Sheepy? Makes sense,” Ransom speaks softly, trying to help her settle. At the sight of the object, a hint of relief forms on Georgia’s face as she wraps her arms around it, letting out a bit of a sigh.

“You think Sheepy’s hungry?” Ransom tries, causing the small child before him to frown.

“Doesn’t eat p-people food,” she tells him.

“Oh, hmm. I guess that makes sense; what kind of food does he eat then?” Ransom plays along with a bit of a smile.

After thinking for a moment, Georgia gives a simple response. “Grass.”

Nodding, Ransom agrees, “Ah. I see, s’ppose you must be right. It would be silly to give him eggs or toast, wouldn’t it?” That causes a tiny smile to form on Georgia’s face as she giggles softly, an overwhelming warmth falling over Ransom as he gazes lovingly at the child. “Well, even if the food isn’t isn’t suitable for him, d’you think Sheepy would still like to join us for breakfast?”

Thinking for a moment, Georgia nods. “C-can bring him with?” she asks carefully to confirm.

Ransom nods with a gentle smile. “Sure thing, kiddo. Now let’s get going, before the eggs get cold.” Scooting back to allow the child room to get up, he watches as she unwraps herself from the blanket, still holding on tight to her toy as she hops off the couch and onto her feet. Rising on his own two legs, Ransom offers the little girl a hand, his heart breaking all over again when she flinches back from the gesture, wincing her eyes shut. “Oh, hey,” he says softly, deciding it would probably be best to just address the issue head on at this point instead of continuing to push it off in hopes of her fears lessening. As he looks down at Georgia, the small child’s eyes still shut as she trembles uncontrollably, Ransom once again pictures himself at that age, in such desperate need of someone to get down on his level and speak to him simply.

Taking a deep breath, Ransom lowers himself back down to his knees. “Georgia,” he calls, his voice barely above a whisper. Georgia flinches again at his voice, causing the man to furrow his brow in concern. “Georgia, hey. It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. Can you open your eyes for me please?”

Looking as though she feels like she has no choice, the little girl obeys, her eyes fluttering open to reveal two pools of tears about to overflow. “Oh sweetheart,” he murmurs, the term of endearment slipping off of his tongue as if it’s something he’s been saying his whole life. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to frighten you. I was just gonna let you hold my hand if you wanted, that’s all.”

“‘m sorry,” Georgia whimpers, only causing Ransom’s worry to grow.

“Sorry? What are you sorry for?” he asks, his voice dripping with concern.

“W-will stop… b-being a cryb-b-baby,” she hiccups. “Really sorry.” At the girl’s words, Ransom visibly deflates, sighing as his head begins to pound with guilt.

“Georgia, listen to me, please,” he requests, only earning an obedient nod as the child attempts to reign in her tears. “I-I’m sorry I called you that,” Ransom says sincerely, giving his first real apology in possibly his entire life. “I was… I wasn’t thinking right yesterday. But I promise from now on, I’m gonna do better. It was something wrong with me, okay? There’s nothing wrong with you crying. You… you’ve been through a lot, Georgia. I know… I know this must be difficult for you. So it’s okay to cry, okay? I won’t get upset with you for it.” Blinking away the last of her tears, Georgia simply sniffles, looking at the man in front of her with a mixture of disbelief and wariness.

“And Georgia?” Ransom continues.

“Hmm?” the little girl replies.

“I know it’s gonna take some time and getting used to, but I just need you to know: I’m not going to hurt you. I know you’ll still get scared sometimes and that’s fine; it’s all you’ve ever known. But I just want to make a promise to you, a promise that while you’re here, staying with me, nobody’s gonna hurt you. Okay?”

Seeming to fail at finding a response, Georgia simply nods, causing Ransom to smile softly. “Okay. Then, do you want to hold my hand?” he offers again, holding it out for her once more. And to his surprise, and more importantly his relief, Ransom’s offer is accepted as the child places her tiny hand down carefully in his.

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#softie #softie: a new day #eun's writing #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale series #ransom drysdale au #ransom drysdale x oc #ransom drysdale x child!oc #dad!ransom drysdale #soft!ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale angst #ransom drysdale fluff #hurt comfort #knives out #knives out fanfiction #knives out au

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babyjakes · 2 years

Text

softie | 7. to leave her there.

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characters | soft!dad!ransom drysdale, georgia pine (original character)

Sleep does not come easily to Ransom. He tosses and turns for what feels like an eternity in his cold, oversized bed, trying his hardest to not think about the four year old little girl curled up just inside his front door. But ultimately, his efforts are futile. When sleep finally finds the man, he drifts off with the salt of his tears soaking into his pillow, a heavy lump still caught in his throat.

And in stark contrast to his usually empty slumber, as soon as Ransom’s eyes have closed for good his mind is filled with dreams. Mostly coming in flashes of only a few seconds, he finds himself traversing back through his childhood, catching a glimpse of a birthday party here, a few moments of a school event there. Running through the woods with the boys from his neighborhood, setting nets in the cool brown waters of the Massachusetts creeks and waiting quietly in the reeds. Sports games on the playground and starry nights in hammocks under the moon, the memories are flooded with the gentle scent of pine and bonfires, filled with distant songs from the radio and one of the neighborhood boy’s guitars; everything is soft and safe and familiar, all in its place, until-

“Mom? Dad?”

A young boy’s voice rings through Ransom’s mind, one he quickly recognizes to be his own. Blinking through tears, his eyes focus on what’s now in front of him: a car pulling out of a familiar driveway; he soon realizes he’s standing in the doorway to his childhood home.

“Leaving me here,” he’s said before the words even register in his mind. “Gonna leave me here, just like always. Just like they always do.” Ransom isn’t sure how old he is, or where his parents are even going, but he is surely no stranger to the betrayal rising up in his throat as his eyes darken, the edges of his vision turning red. His fists curl painfully, but the worst part is, he knows he’s not even angry. He’s just hurt. He’s just afraid.

Stepping back into the house, he closes the door shut, catching a glimpse of himself in the reflection of the glass. Two tear-filled eyes gaze back at him, and before he can even blink, the grey in them has shifted to a soft, bambi brown. Standing there, Ransom realizes it’s now a small and frightened Georgia staring back at him, the old driveway behind her disappearing as its replaced with the darkness of the night. Georgia doesn’t even have to open her mouth; she speaks to the shaken man before her with her eyes. Her words are somewhat of an echo of what he was only saying moments earlier.

“Don’t leave me here. Don’t leave me here like everyone else has left me.”

Shooting up in his bed, Ransom can’t help but let out a sob. His face is drenched with sweat as he brings a shaking hand to wipe at his mouth, tears trailing down his cheeks before dripping onto the sheets below. Closing his eyes, he exhales heavily, a truth appearing before him that he simply no longer can deny, no matter how much he would like to.

“I didn’t turn out fine,” he whispers into the darkness. “They didn’t give a shit about me, and now I’m paying for it. Georgia can’t pay for it; she can’t. She doesn’t have anything left in her to give.”

As fast as his body can carry him, he’s up out of bed, hurrying to the bathroom where the sudden white lights cause his eyes to sting. Switching on the sink, Ransom wets a cloth, bringing it up to his face and washing himself off before lowering it again to look at himself in the mirror. Catching the blue of his eyes, he’s almost able to see the brown of Georgia’s hovering behind their shared veil of freckles. “This isn’t about you anymore,” he finds himself whispering to his reflection as he smooths back his hair with his fingers. “For once in your life, it can’t be about you.”

Flipping off the lights as he exits the room, Ransom’s sure to be quiet as he heads for the stairs. It would be best to get her into her bed, he thinks to himself, but if she refuses, I could at least get her up to the room. Maybe spread some pillows and blankets out on the floor, make it as nice of a place as it can be.

Once he’s reached the bottom of the stairs, the man begins to make his way across the living room. But after taking only a few steps, he’s stopped by the faint sound of sniffling, his stomach dropping as he freezes on the rug. In the dim glow of the moonlight, Ransom can just barely make out Georgia’s little form curled up on the welcome mat. Feverishly, the child shakes as she sleeps, the helpless whimpers and whines escaping her lips causing the uncertain man to freeze. “Oh kid,” he sighs sadly, unable to shake the guilt from his chest. Has she been crying like this all night?

Glancing at the arm chairs to his left before the fireplace, Ransom spots a blanket, quietly stepping over and collecting it before finishing his walk over to the front door. At first, he just crouches down, but quickly decides that sitting on the floor next to the sobbing child would probably be a better idea for his ankles. Lowering himself to sit cross-legged at the edge of the welcome mat, he inhales shakily, feeling entirely unqualified to face the task before him. I’ve never comforted a child in my life, he groans to himself. Not even Jacob when he was small. Then again, the little shit was always-

A slight swell in Georgia’s cries snaps Ransom out of his rambling thoughts. And as he stares at the little girl before him, trembling violently as tears soak her little stuffed lamp that’s still tucked under her head, a certain sense of what almost feels like calmness washes over the man as he tells himself, fuck it. Just have to do it. At this point, there’s no way I can make things worse than they already are.

Taking another deep breath, Ransom picks up the blanket from his lap, unfolding the fuzzy fabric a few times before reaching it out and wrapping it around the squirming child. The contact causes the little body to jerk, but beyond that there are no signs to suggest she’s nearing consciousness, something that comforts Ransom a little as he wraps the blanket a little further around the girl before pulling her over onto his lap. She fits into his arms almost perfectly, surprising the man as he realizes he’s now cradling his child for the first time.

Tilting her head up a bit as she continues to cry, Ransom begins to speak softly, “Hey, shhhh.” A subtle rocking motion begins in his arms without him even noticing, a small smile forming on his lips as he notices his efforts beginning to work. Though she continues to remain in a visibly deep sleep, Georgia’s tears have started to slow, the terrible shakes racking through her body subtly settling as she’s held.

“There you go, you’re alright. Just needed someone to hold you, hmm?” Ransom continues to murmur, finding it almost comforting to speak to the child even though she’s unable to hear what he’s saying. “I probably would’ve cried if I tried sleeping on the mat too, kid,” he jokes, his hand somehow finding the side of her cheek as he rubs the soft skin with his thumb. “Pretty sure the thing’s made of straw. Definitely not a place for little guys like you to be sleeping.”

Georgia’s breaths heave a few more times in the quiet as she’s cradled, her little hands beginning to make grabbing motions as a quiet whine sounds in her throat. “Oh, oh, here,” Ransom identifies the problem quickly, grabbing her stuffed animal from where it fell on the floor and bringing it up to her shaking fingers. “Here, here he is. He’s right here, you got him.” The girl’s latches on quickly to the object, though Ransom still feels the need to bring the fabric of the toy up closer to her face anyway. Maybe she can smell it, he thinks to himself. Know it’s there.

As the child in his arms continues to settle, Ransom sighs, looking down on her heavy eyelids draped with thick brown lashes. Don’t wanna risk waking her up, he decides. Guess I’m sleeping down here. For a moment, he debates trying to move to the couch, but in the end decides he’s probably best off just staying put. And though the position he’s in is nowhere near comfortable enough for sleeping, somehow he’s able to find rest much sooner than he thought he would. Finally, after what felt like so much walking away from the little girl, he’s able to be content with holding her in his arms at last. “Didn’t leave you,” he whispers as he drifts off to sleep. “Never leaving you again.”

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#softie #softie: to leave her there #eun's writing #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale series #ransom drysdale au #ransom drysdale x oc #ransom drysdale x child!oc #dad!ransom drysdale #soft!ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale angst #ransom drysdale fluff #hurt comfort #knives out #knives out fanfiction #knives out au

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babyjakes · 2 years

Text

softie | 1. prologue.

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characters | soft!dad!ransom drysdale, georgia pine (original character)

Thump thump thump. Georgia’s little legs bounce softly against the padded plastic of her car seat as she sits in the back of her social worker’s crossover, gazing out the window as the beautiful Massachusetts countryside flies by. “You excited, honey?” the kind young lady, known to Georgia and all her clients as ‘Ms. Julie’ asks.

The little girl gives no response, not surprising the young woman in the least. “I’m sure he’s a very nice man, sweetheart. He sounded like it when I talked with him on the phone earlier,” Julie continues, figuring the reassuring words can’t do any harm at this point.

Deep down, though, the woman is full of concern. Georgia Pine’s been the most serious victim of child abuse and neglect the state has seen in years, and her new guardian, Mr. Hugh Drysdale, hasn’t exactly been the ideal candidate for taking over her case. Julie was shocked to learn that he had any interest in gaining custody of the child. After all, he had no idea the small girl even existed until she was removed from her mother and step-father’s care, following the most disturbing and heartbreaking rescue the young social worker has ever witnessed. And it wasn’t just her; many of the intervention team ended up testifying that they had never seen such terrible treatment of a child in their lives. And if it wasn’t clear from crime scene she was torn out of, it’s now clearly written all throughout the poor thing. After four years of brutalization, the child’s nothing like the carefree little girl she should be.

“How’re you feeling, Georgia?” Julie asks as she continues down the road, glancing back at the little girl through the rear-view mirror. The child’s brow is raised in worry, and her bottom lip is trembling with fright. Even though everything’s been explained to her multiple times, she’s still unsure what’s about to happen; all she knows is that she’s being brought to live with a strange man she’s never met before.

“It’s okay to be anxious, sweetheart,” Julie soothes, sensing the girl’s uneasiness despite her silence. Georgia’s not one to talk unless she must, and her social worker knows this. Over the past few weeks as they’ve worked together, the young lady has become very skilled at picking up on the little one’s shifting moods, even when she’s not willing to say a single word. “It’s just for a few days, remember? Then I’ll come back and check in to see how things are going. Nothing’s permanent yet,” the woman promises.

The arrangement was suggested by Julie and agreed to by Mr. Drysdale: Georgia will stay at the Drysdale household for three and a half days, three nights. Then, the social worker will return to evaluate the fit and make further custodial decisions. This way, either side has a chance to back out. And if Julie’s being honest, she’s all but assuming the man will surely want out by the time the fourth day rolls around. From everything she’s gathered on him, there’s no way he’s the fatherly type.

“Oh, looks like this is the one,” Julie comments, trying to keep her voice light and cheerful as she pulls into the driveway of the strange-looking house. Georgia’s eyes widen as her eyes land on the peculiar building, the boxy shape and modern design features making her question if it’s actually a house at all. “It’s not like any house I’ve ever seen before, how neat,” Julie comments as she sees the little girl’s confusion through the mirror, shifting the car into park and undoing her seatbelt. Barely visible from the car, a tall man stands in the open doorway, the most noticeable thing to Georgia about his appearance being the thick fluffy sweater he’s wearing.

“I’m going to go say hello, and then we’ll come back to the car for you to meet him. That okay with you, honey?” Julie asks. Not sure how to respond, Georgia gives a small nod, earning a smile from the social worker. “Okay, sweetie. I’ll be right back,” the woman promises, exiting the car and shutting the door behind her.

“Mr. Drysdale,” she greets as she makes her way further up the driveway.

“Call me ‘Ransom,’” the man responds, a dislikeable hint of uninterest evident in his voice.

“Ransom,” Julie corrects herself as she approaches the tall set of sliding doors where the young man stands. “My name is Julie Sullivan; I’m with Child and Family Services from the state of-”

“Ah yes, Ms. Sullivan, we spoke on the phone,” the brunette butts in, flustering the woman slightly as she nods.

“We did, indeed. As outlined in our arrangement, I’ve brought my client Georgia with me; she’s prepared to stay with you through Friday morning until I return to perform an evaluation.”

“Great,” Ransom replies flatly. “Where’s the kid?”

“Still in the car,” Julie tells him, trying to hold onto her patience. “She’s brought an overnight bag with all of her belongings; I have a car seat issued by the state as well for you to use.”

“A car seat? I thought she was four,” the clueless man asks incredulously, “what, does she need diapers, too?”

“Mr. Dry- Ransom,” Julie states, a sense of near pleading creeping up into her voice. “The child is four… I thought you said you-”

“Yeah, yeah, I read over the paperwork you sent,” he waves her off, his nose scrunching slightly at the thought of all the parent-training material he had to skim through. “Don’t worry, I was mostly kidding about the diapers. We’ll be just fine,” he says, though his words do little to reassure the woman in front of him.

“You have my contact information, so please feel free to reach out at any time if you have questions or concerns. The line for the department is on my card as well, in case I don’t pick up,” Julie reminds him. “Ransom, please. Please remember everything we talked about in regards to Georgia; you need to take extreme care in your interactions with her. She’s-”

“I know, I know. ‘Not a normal kid,’ I remember,” Ransom quotes their earlier conversation. Sighing, Julie nods, knowing she has little power to do anything more than hand the poor girl over and wait to see what happens.

“That’s right. So please, please do your best to be gentle with her.”

“Alright, lady. I’ll do my best. But I gotta tell ya, I’m no softie,” he admits as the two begin making their way back down the driveway together.

Through the backseat window, Georgia watches with wide doe eyes as the pair approach the vehicle, a hoarse whimper rising in her throat at the sight of the unknown man. Opening up the car door, Julie offers the wary child a bright smile as she introduces, “Okay, sweetheart. This is Mr. Drysdale-”

“Ransom,” the man cuts her off, his deep voice causing the little girl to flinch. He almost doesn’t notice it, though; he’s too caught up thin line of tears he can see beginning to build up in her bambi eyes.

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babyjakes · 2 years

Text

softie | 4. like a dog.

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characters | soft!dad!ransom drysdale, georgia pine (original character)

Ransom’s eyes burn as he stares down into the metal pot bubbling on the stove. At the surface of the thick broth, he can barely make out the edges of his reflection, the harsh crease in his brow causing an image to flash before his eyes of a similarly disgruntled face from sometime long ago. His body stiffens, a strange wave of unwanted nostalgia washing over the man as he remembers himself back in his childhood, huddled in a corner while confronted with such a terrible face. He pictures himself trapped there, trembling. And somehow as the minutes pass, the image slowly morphs into the way little Georgia looked while sitting on the floor in the living room, clutching her book to her chest as she cowered below the now grown man.

I’m not fooling anyone, not even myself, he thinks as he stirs the contents of the pot around, disrupting his watery reflection. Of course I’m turning into the people who raised me; I’ve got Ma’s disinterest and Pa’s temper in my blood.

The oven’s timer goes off with a high-pitched beep, causing the brown-haired man to turn away from the stove. Grabbing an oven mitt, he switches off the heat, opening the door carefully and pulling the pan out from the glowing rack. It’s for the best, he tells himself as he sets the hot dish down onto a towel, after all, I turned out just fine. It’ll make her tougher; clearly it’s what she needs.

“Food’s ready,” Ransom announces, loud enough to be heard from the adjacent room where the child still remains. Pulling out a set of plates and silverware from the cabinetry, he pauses, expecting the little girl to find her way into the kitchen by herself. After several moments of her absence, Ransom sighs heavily, switching off the stove and removing his mitt before making his way back to the other room.

“Hey,” the man calls harshly as he spots the girl still sitting on the floor where he left her. Jumping at his voice, Georgia looks up from Goodnight Moon that’s now opened up on her lap, her eyes growing wide with anxiety. “Did you not hear me? I said the food’s done,” Ransom grumbles impatiently.

“Food?” Georgia asks innocently, tilting her head as the man in front of her places his hands on his hips.

“Yeah, what- they didn’t feed you at the home?” Ransom asks sarcastically, a hint of dread appearing in his chest as he begins to wonder if his question might actually have some validity based on the way the child simply continues to look up at him cluelessly. “Come on, we’ll eat in the kitchen,” he beckons, deciding he doesn’t care enough to unpack whatever kind of backstory might be behind the girl’s strange behavior.

Closing the book carefully, Georgia returns it to the grocery bag in front of her, rising slowly to her feet once it’s tucked away and padding nervously over to Ransom. “You wanna take off your coat yet?” he asks, still not understanding why she would prefer to keep it on for so long when the house is plenty warm on its own. Earning only a small frown in response, he sighs, mumbling a “whatever” as he leads the way into the kitchen.

“My cooking’s not the greatest, but I did my best,” Ransom admits as he stands at the counter, beginning to dish himself up some of the chicken and vegetables. Once he’s satisfied, he turns to the child peering up on her tip-toes at the food, a look of stark confusion now twister onto her face. “What?” he asks, “I told you I’m no chef.”

Gulping, the little girl glances up at the man, a tremble present in her soft voice as she observes, “Two plates.”

“Great, you can count,” he jokes flatly, though the little bit of humor in his expression quickly begins to fade as he realizes what the child’s words mean. “What about it?” he adds, trying to keep his growing concern from flooding his voice. “You want a bowl instead?”

Looking back over the food with watering eyes, Georgia stiffens, the remains of a swallowed-down sob cracking through her words as she tells him, “C-can’t eat that.”

“Why not?” Ransom asks irritably. “I don’t remember everything blondie said, but I’m pretty sure she didn’t mention any allergies.” Biting her bottom lip worriedly, Georgia sniffles, her lack of explanation only causing the man’s annoyance to grow. “Fine,” he huffs, not wanting to waste any more energy on the matter. If she doesn’t want it, that just means there’ll be more leftovers for later, he tells himself. “What can you eat?” he tries, assuming the child might prefer a peanut butter sandwich or something less sophisticated.

“Scraps.”

Ransom freezes, a hollowness beginning to ring in his ears as he looks down at the quiet girl. “Scraps?” he repeats. Georgia nods.

“Jus’ get the scraps,” the small child mumbles shyly, her cheeks turning pink as Ransom’s eyes remain glued to her. “O-or not,” she adds quickly, as if she’s frightened he might find her words too demanding. “Don’t have to give ‘em to me, sir.”

Sir. The title sits uncomfortably in the thin air as Ransom runs a hand back through his hair, trying to make sense of the little girl’s words. Though he was given plenty of warning by Child Services about the degree of Georgia’s maltreatment under her mother’s care, it still manages to hit the man differently when he witnesses her unusual behavior first-hand. A strange sense of longing washes over Ransom as he looks down on the little brown-haired girl; suddenly, he feels urged to crouch down beside her and talk to her softly, condemn the actions of her abusers and encourage her to eat what he’s made. These impulses are completely out of character for the bitter man, and truthfully, it scares the shit out of him. She wants scraps, so what, he tries to brush it off internally. Probably wouldn’t get very far fighting her on it, anyway.

Grabbing a fork and a knife from the silverware set on the counter, Ransom takes a piece of chicken from the pan, placing it on the second plate. Next, he scoops over some vegetables. Once the portion looks appropriate, he takes a utensil in each hand, gradually beginning to shred up the food into a steaming pile. Georgia watches with wide eyes at his side, flinching when he drops the fork and knife onto the plate.

“There you go,” he presents coldly as he holds the dish out for her to take. “Scraps.” Georgia accepts the plate with two shaking hands, appearing too startled by the man’s actions to form words. “Come on, before it gets cold,” Ransom mutters as he picks up his own meal, leading the child over to the table.

Pulling out a chair for himself and settling down, he almost doesn’t notice what the little girl is doing. (That is, until he hears the heavy ceramic being placed gingerly onto the ground.) Peering down over the side of the table, Ransom’s heart drops slightly in his chest to find the child sitting on the floor, gazing warily up at him. Already anticipating a scolding from the look Ransom’s giving her, a soft whimper rises in Georgia’s throat. The man swallows dryly, trying to keep his voice steady. “Georgia.” She flinches.

For some time, Ransom’s unable to say anything more, completely entangled in a mess of emotions ranging all the way from petty annoyance to pure heartbreak. Jesus, look at her, he sighs to himself. Those eyes, so big and frightened; what on earth did they do to her?

“Georgia,” the man says again, hating the way she looks like she’s preparing to be burnt at the stake. “What are you doing?” The simply asked question seems to take the girl by surprise.

“Eat scraps,” the poor girl mumbles, nodding at her plate.

Ransom opens his mouth to suggest she come sit next to him, but something within him stops the words before they come tumbling out. His reflection from earlier flashes in his mind as he’s reminded of who he is, who he’s meant to be: that cold, distant man who’ll be better for the child in the end. For her own good, he tells himself. If she wants to act like a dog, why should it be my job to get in her way?

“Fine,” he grunts, watching as the little girl withers at his tone. And as she begins picking at her food with her tiny hands, Ransom tries to ignore the way her fear of him makes his heart ache.

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#softie #softie: like a dog #eun's writing #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale series #ransom drysdale au #ransom drysdale x oc #ransom drysdale x child!oc #dad!ransom drysdale #soft!ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale angst #ransom drysdale fluff #hurt comfort #knives out #knives out fanfiction #knives out au

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babyjakes · 2 years

Text

softie | 5. discoveries.

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characters | soft!dad!ransom drysdale, georgia pine (original character)

By the time Ransom’s finished his meal, the quiet sounds of the child eating below him on the floor have ceased. Glancing subtly down at her to avoid catching her gaze, he confirms his suspicion; the girl’s food is gone. Satisfaction and relief wash over the man as he eyes her empty plate, trying to ignore the way she’s still trembling as she sits in the silence. Ransom clears his throat, causing Georgia to jump. He sighs. She gonna do that every time?

“All done?” he questions, earning a little nod from the child as she looks up at him with wary eyes. “How was it?”

Bottom lip trembling, Georgia swallows hard as she prepares to speak, appearing as if she’s struggling to choose her words carefully enough. “G-good. Thank you, sir.”

“You don’t have to call me that,” Ransom tells her as he pushes himself out from the table, rising to his feet and collecting his plate. The little girl peers up at him with widened eyes, clearly not knowing how to respond. “Makes me feel old. I mean, do what you want, but just know it’s not necessary.” As he leans down to pick up Georgia’s plate off the floor, the tiny thing flinches.

“Sorry,” she mumbles lamely. “Won’t if- sorry.”

Rolling his eyes slightly at the peculiar girl, Ransom ignores her apology, turning his back on her as he carries the dishware to the sink. Georgia remains in her place, watching the man as he rinses the plates. He sneaks a glance over at her, causing her to wince once more. Jumpy as hell, he thinks to himself. That’s gonna get old.

Checking the time, Ransom realizes he’s not sure what to do next. “Well,” he thinks aloud, “it’s probably not your bedtime yet. What d’you usually do after dinner?” Georgia stares wordlessly at him, earning a huff of impatience. Placing the dishes in the rack to dry, he wipes off his hands with a towel, looking out across the length of the counter until his eyes land on what he’s searching for.

“Maybe blondie left us a schedule,” he hopes as he grabs the sheet of notes from the child’s social worker. Scanning through the various blurbs, Ransom reads, “Let’s see… dinner, and then… ah. It says-” At the sight of the word “bath”, he stops dead in his tracks. Not this soon, he decides immediately, there’s no way in hell she’d let me anywhere near her without clothes on. “Right, looks like we’ve got some free time,” he recovers smoothly, “got anything you wanna do?”

Coming as no surprise to the brown-haired man, the little girl can manage nothing more than a perplexed look for a response. Exhaling loudly as he drops the paper back down onto the granite countertop, Ransom suggests, “Wanna see if there are any movies playing?” Georgia furrows her eyebrows at him, almost making the grump smile at her naivety. “Oh, you’ve never seen one? You’ll love ‘em, I’m sure,” Ransom promises as he makes his way to the archway leading back out to the living room. Taking this as her cue to follow, Georgia rises shakily to her feet, hurrying to catch up with him.

“Alright,” Ransom hums as he grabs the remove from the coffee table, hitting the power button to rouse the machine to life. As soon as the screen lights up, Georgia’s eyes grow as wide as saucers, jumping harshly when sounds begin to play through the speakers. The current channel plays an infomercial. “Let’s see if we can find something you might be a little more interested in,” Ransom says as he begins flipping through channels, stopping when he sees the Disney Channel logo pop up in the bottom corner of the picture. “This should do,” he nods, “you wanna-”

As he turns to look back at the child who’s still standing near the entrance to the kitchen, he’s caught off guard to see her so entranced with the moving images and music coming from the screen. A faint feeling of fondness rises up in his chest as he admires the innocence of her wide doe eyes, her brow raised in curiosity instead of fear, for once. Must not’ve had a TV at the home, Ransom guesses to himself. “Pretty cool, huh?” the man says with a soft grin. Eyes still glued to the glowing screen, Georgia seems too stunned to say anything.

“You can come sit on the couch if you want,” Ransom offers, gesturing to the cream colored sectional. “Feel free to settle wherever. I’m gonna grab some stuff to work on. You good here for a moment?” Earning a small nod from the girl as she still keeps her gaze locked on the television, Ransom chuckles lightly, leaving her to continue to marveling at the technology as he makes his way to the staircase.

What kind of kid’s never seen a TV before? Ransom asks himself dumbfoundedly as he ascends the wooden steps. From the landing, he approaches his bedroom door, twisting the knob open and slipping inside. Whatever, maybe should’ve kept it that way, he continues thinking as he grabs his computer off of his desk, that stuff’ll rot her brain.

Exiting his room and closing the door behind him, Ransom hurries back downstairs with his computer in hand, not wanting to leave the girl alone for too long. As he reaches the bottom of the stairs, he finds Georgia sitting cross-legged on the carpet in front of the TV, still staring up almost foolishly as commercials continue to run. “A show will probably start playing soon,” Ransom comments as he takes his usual seat in the padded corner of the sofa. “If it doesn’t we can try another channel.” Georgia stays quiet as she watches the children running and laughing on the screen, causing the man to smile. If it keeps her out of my hair, I can’t complain, he tells himself.

Pulling up his work browser, Ransom messes around for a little while with various tabs and documents before ultimately deciding he doesn’t have much motivation to work on anything too seriously. Closing out of the secure session, he finds himself staring at his desktop, eyes wandering lazily over the icons littering the page until they settle on a simple beige folder with two words printed neatly underneath: Georgia Pine.

Guess it wouldn’t hurt to take a look through the stuff, Ransom tells himself as he clicks the link apprehensively. Inside he finds a list of documents and files all sent to him by the little girl’s social worker, links he’s had access to for quite some time but never ended up getting around to viewing. Each time he pushed off looking at the folder, he tried to tell himself it was just because he was busy, but he wasn’t even fooling himself with that nonsense; the truth is, this whole time he’s just been too afraid.

Sighing as he notices that none of the files are labeled, Ransom decides to start at the top and work his way down. The first several items appear to be JPEG’s by the icon sitting to their left. Taking a deep breath, he clicks on the first one, triggering an image to fill his screen.

The picture makes Ransom’s blood run cold. It appears to have been taken in some sort of cellar, the walls and floor of the place a chilling gray concrete with dirt protruding from the cracks. The image is zoomed in on a little figure curled up in the corner, a leg sticking out from the heap of bone-covered skin with a thick shackle chaining the thing to a pipe running up the wall. The mess of wavy brown hair is the only thing that identifies the creature as Georgia.

Swallowing hard, Ransom hits the arrow key on his computer, trying to rid himself of the terrible picture only to move onto the next. This second image is taken at closer proximity to the little girl; her head is now lifted slightly and her wide doe eyes are staring feverishly into the lens of the camera, full of the fear of a wild thing. Bruises blanket across her skin as she’s photographed naked, her injuries ranging in color from black to red, to purple to green. Blood has dried under her nose and dribbling down from her chin. Tears are pooling in her darkened eyes.

“Jesus christ,” Ransom can’t help from cursing as he stares at the child, the terrified look heartbreakingly similar to the one he’s witnessed firsthand in just the short few hours he’s known the kid. Hitting the arrow key again, he’s met with a third image, this one the clearest of all. The camera appears to be only feet from the little girl as she now cowers away from it, arms held up to shield her from whoever’s found her. Blood has pooled on the ground beneath her dirtied feet, nasty wounds and bruising covering almost every inch of her filthy skin.

Clicking forward again, Ransom’s relieved to find a newspaper article in the next image instead of an evidential photograph, though his heart quickly drops into the pit of his stomach as he reads the headline. “Little Girl Found Beaten and Starved in Basement of Caretakers’ House.”

Tapping to the next file, he finds another. “Four-Year-Old Brutalized by Mother and Step-Father in Quiet Boston Neighborhood.”

Hitting the key again, Ransom swallows down a lump in his throat as his ears begin to ring. “Preschooler Kept in Cellar for Years; Treated like an Animal by Sadistic Parents.” Tears gloss over the man’s eyes as his gaze wanders over the blocks of text, catching little bits and pieces of the story as his heart pounds heavily throughout his body. “…was found chained naked to a pipe…” “…hadn’t left the cellar in what appeared to be months…” “…cried and begged when police tried to help…” “…sustained various critical injuries…” “…both parents being charged with various counts of neglect, endangerment, physical abuse, and sexual-”

A quiet gasp breaks through Ransom’s frantic reading, causing the man to instinctively slam his computer shut, his head shooting up to see where the sound came from. His entire body immediately softens as he sees Georgia still sitting on the ground before the television, her mouth now agape as she stares up at the screen that’s playing a scene from The Little Mermaid. Taking a moment to let his body settle, Ransom can’t help gaze lovingly through his tears at the small child as she becomes so encaptivated by Ariel’s beautiful voice and appearance. And as the mermaid on the screen sings her infamous melody, a small voice rises up inside of the cold-hearted man, its tone only familiar from a few passing thoughts he’s been collecting over his short time with Georgia.

It could be different, he thinks to himself. Things could be different, for her. Different than what she came from. Different than how it was for me.

As expected, as soon as these thoughts appear they’re flooded by Ransom’s usual bitter monologue. That’s not who I am, though, he reasons with himself. That’s not what I was raised to be, not who Ma and Pa created. Glancing back at the little girl once more as she watches Ariel adoringly, he tries to reach some sort of compromise. Maybe I’ve been a little too harsh with her, but I’m not turning soft. I can do this without compromising who I am. Ma and Pa did me well, and I’ll do the same for her.

And as he continues to watch the child’s eyes twinkle with wonder, he shuts out the voice inside of him asking if he truly did turn out alright after all.

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babyjakes · 2 years

Text

softie | 2. little house tour.

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characters | soft!dad!ransom drysdale, georgia pine (original character)

“Alrighty you two,” Julie says as she stands before the man and the child in the sliding glass doorway to the home. “Anything else we need to settle before I take off? I believe we covered everything important…” the woman trails off in thought.

“We’re good, thanks,” Ransom states simply, wanting more than anything to just get the annoying young lady out of their hair. Georgia stands silently with the two adults, her big brown eyes fixated on the reddish bricks covering the ground.

“You have the sheet I sent you covering all the basics, right? Meals, bedtime, things she likes to-”

“Printed out and waiting for us on the kitchen counter,” Ransom assures her before she can even finish her sentence. Huffing in what appears to be slight frustration at Ransom’s shortness, Julie nods, sucking in a deep breath before crouching down before the small child beside him.

“Georgia, sweetheart?” the blonde woman calls, causing the little brunette to glance up at her gingerly. With a soft smile, Julie continues, “Everything’s settled now, lovie, so I’m gonna get going back to the center. You’ve got all of your things, and Ransom here’s got a whole packet of info to help him out for these first few days; you two should be just fine.”

Shifting on his feet impatiently, Ransom watches as the tiny thing nods, trying to ignore the tears that have once again built up in her eyes. Kids, he thinks to himself with a slight shake of the head. Little shits cry about everything.

“You’re gonna be alright, sweetie,” Julie soothes with a hint of sadness appearing in her kind eyes, appearing to sense the little one’s apprehension, “and if you need anything, you just ask Ransom for the phone and call the number on my card. You still have it tucked in your book?” Georgia nods again, causing the social worker’s smile to widen. “Good. Well then,” she clears her throat, rising back up to her feet. “I hope you two have a wonderful time together!”

“Thanks,” Ransom nods flatly, earning a small wave from the lady before she turns and heads back down the walkway. Glancing down at the child below him, he takes in a long breath. Georgia’s eyes have fallen back to the ground, her little feet kicking slightly at the gap in the bricks with her scuffed ballet flats. What a mess, Ransom judges silently as he takes a moment to soak in the child’s appearance. Her olive green coat is at least a few sizes too big for her, the fabric torn in several places over her tiny frame. Her boney legs are covered by a pair of gray leggings, also looking to be littered with holes. Her white shoes are muddied and all but coming apart, the seams fraying at every edge. Gonna need some new clothes. Maybe a haircut, too, he notes, eyeing the little girl’s mess of brown waves.

“Well,” Ransom speaks awkwardly, trying not to roll his eyes when Georgia jumps at the sudden booming of his voice. “Should be fine to leave the car seat out here. Better get inside before we freeze,” he continues, pivoting around and sliding the door open behind them. Turning to follow the intimidating man’s gaze, Georgia peers through the tall glass pane, her eyes widening slightly at the interior of the house. “I know, probably nothing like you’re used to,” Ransom scoffs, imagining what the children’s home must’ve been like that the little girl spent the past month or so in. “Come on,” he insists as he leans down momentarily to grab the handle of the navy blue duffle bag at the child’s feet, “can’t stand out here all day.”

Gulping, Georgia looks up at him, causing the man to sigh. “Fine. Follow me then,” he grumbles, leading the way into the house. Seeming satisfied with not having to go first, the small girl follows, her head turning this way and that as she takes in the incredible home. “Guess I can give you a little house tour,” Ransom shrugs as he slides off his shoes carelessly, tossing the duffle bag over onto the cream-colored couch. Crouching down silently, Georgia unbuckles her own shoes, removing them sheepishly and placing them on the doormat before standing up again. Her eyes continue to wander as Ransom watches her, not sure if he should say more or just let her keep looking.

“Um, this is the living room,” he states, not sure what else to mention about the space. “Over there’s the dining room, though it never gets used,” he admits as he points to the extension of the house to his right. The little girl’s eyes follow his gesture, remaining quiet. “If you step in further, I can show you more,” the man tells her, smirking slightly as she immediately follows his instruction, her cheeks flushing a nervous pink. “Through there’s the kitchen,” he motions to his left as he begins making his way further into the secondary living space, “and over here are the stairs.”

Georgia’s socked feet pad softly against the floor as she follows him, her eyes trailing from the partially concealed kitchen over to the set of chairs in front of the fireplace. As soon as she catches sight of the tall brick fixture, her eyes swell, a terrible tremble rising up through her small body as she lets out a squeak.

Alarmed by the sound, Ransom’s eyes fall back on the child, his brow slanting in confusion and slight annoyance as he asks, “What is it?” Georgia’s bottom lip quivers as her gaze remains glued to the mantle, the tears welling in her eyes confusing the grumpy man even further. “Come on kid, spit it out,” Ransom snaps, the tone of his voice making her jump.

She peers up at him for a moment, the terrified expression on her face as she stares at him stirring unfamiliar emotions in his stomach before her eyes dart back over to the front door. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Ransom warns, his words coming out darker than even he intended. “Look, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong,” he presses. The little girl’s eyes fall to the floor in front of her as tears roll down her cheeks. “Georgia,” the man sighs impatiently.

Choking on her syllables as she begins to speak for the first time since meeting Ransom, the child begins to stammer in a pitiful voice, “P-p-poker… h-hot… burn m-me?”

“What? Burn you? No,” he replies incredulously, “Why the hell would I do that?” As he continues to watch the small girl panic quietly, an uncomfortable sense of guilt begins buzzing in Ransom’s throat. Probably should’ve read the report, he thinks to himself, could’ve covered it up with a sheet or something if I’d known it was gonna be an issue-

Wait. Would he have, though? Ransom Drysdale knows himself better than anyone; he knows he isn’t someone to go out of his way to make others comfortable. So why am I thinking that way, he asks himself. Sighing, he shakes his head. Whatever, he concludes, she’ll get over it.

“Georgia. I’m not gonna burn you with the fire iron,” Ransom deadpans, “so quit crying. I never light the thing, anyway. It’s just for decoration.” At his command, the little girl attempts to dry her eyes, sniffling weakly. Letting out an exasperated sigh, Ransom continues, “Come on, enough with it. You just got here; you can’t seriously be having a meltdown already.” Nodding shamefully, Georgia rubs the rest of her tears away, her eyes now puffy and red.

The brown-haired man runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head again in irritation. “Here, I’ll show you the upstairs,” Ransom decides, dismissing the fireplace situation entirely and making his way over to the beginning of the steps. Glancing back, he notices the child hasn’t moved an inch from her spot on the carpet. “You coming or what?” he asks.

Wincing at the sharpness of his voice, Georgia quickly falls in line behind him. “Jesus,” Ransom curses under his breath as he starts up the stairs, unable to believe how terribly things have managed to go in just the short period of time since the girl arrived. “Alright,” he says as they reach the landing. “Not much to see up here. This room’s mine,” he states as he motions to the first door on the left. “Washroom,” he points to the door in the middle, “and the guest room,” he concludes with the last. “Any questions?”

Keeping her gaze down, Georgia shakes her head, the sight of her standing still somewhat nervously before him causing yet another unfamiliar emotion to surface within Ransom: pity. “I-I’ll show you the guest room later,” he says quickly, doing his best to shake off the unwanted feeling. “Let’s go back downstairs for now. It’s almost dinnertime.”

Looking up slightly at the man’s words, Georgia’s eyes droop as she blinks through her heavy lashes. Ransom nods his head toward the stairs, expecting the child to do as he’s instructed. Instead, though, she hesitates, causing him to sigh. “What, need me to go first?” he all but groans. Biting her lower lip to keep it from trembling, Georgia nods. Letting out a breathy exhale, the vexed man rolls his eyes. “Fine,” he mutters as he steps back to the stairs, having to bite his tongue to keep quiet when the little girl flinches at his momentary closeness.

“What the hell have I gotten myself into?” he mumbles as they make their way back down into the living room, beginning to scold himself when he realizes that the kid might’ve heard. But then he halts, reminding himself, no, I don’t care. So what if she heard? It would be best if she did; maybe then she’d pull herself together.

And as they both reach the bottom of the staircase, Ransom does his best to convince himself he believes it.

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babyjakes · 2 years

Text

softie | 6. a place to sleep.

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characters | soft!dad!ransom drysdale, georgia pine (original character)

As the credits of The Little Mermaid begin to roll, Ransom can see Georgia’s eyes growing droopy as she stifles a yawn. At some point during the movie, when the frightening visuals and sounds of the sea witch were causing the poor child to tremble, the quiet man behind her found it in himself to join her where she sat on the floor. He was hesitant to; it wasn’t going to be the most comfortable seat in the house, but something inside him compelled him to do it.

Now as they sit just a few feet apart, his heart softens at the tired little girl; he realizes it’s been a long day for the both of them.

Glancing at his watch, Ransom sees that it’s nearing 8:00 pm. Seems like a reasonable time for bed, he shrugs to himself. “You gettin’ sleepy?” he asks the little one, his voice coming out a little too soft for his own liking.

Georgia gives a hum and a nod in response, her eyes trailing over to the man sitting beside her. An expression of uncertainty forms on her face, something Ransom isn’t too alarmed by. Always a little strange sleeping in a new place, he reminds himself. “Alright. Well, maybe it’s time to put on your pajamas and brush your teeth?” he suggests.

The girl turns herself slightly on the carpet, looking over to where her bag was tossed onto the sofa. “Here,” Ransom says as he rises to his feet, grabbing the bag for the child and bringing it back to her as she sits on the ground. “The stuff you need in here?” Georgia nods. “Okay, you wanna get ready for bed in the room upstairs?.” The little girl’s eyes widen at the offer. Chuckling slightly, Ransom encourages, “C’mon, stand up. I can show it to you.”

Tentatively, Georgia hoists herself onto her feet, her little knees wobbling below her as she struggles to gain her balance. Ransom waits in front of her, trying to find it in himself to scoff at her clumsiness, but for some reason in this moment he can’t; he can only feel pity. “You okay?” he asks, his brow raising in concern.

Georgia’s cheeks turn pink as she nods quickly, mumbling a frightened apology. As her eyes stay locked on the ground, she can’t see the man in front of her as he looks her over with worry this time instead of impatience. “It’s okay,” Ransom tells her, feeling guilty for how certain she is that he’ll be upset with her. Makes sense, though, he reminds himself. You two didn’t get off to the smoothest start.

“Here,” he tries to regain her attention on getting to see her room. “Let’s go see the guestroom, hmm?” Deciding to carry her bag for her, Ransom heads towards the stairs, not surprised at all when Georgia falls right in line behind him silently. “It doesn’t have much of a definitive style; I was figuring maybe you could help me out with that if you decided to stay here for good,” he rambles as he leads the way up the up the stairwell.

Once they reach the landing, Ransom heads for the door on the right, twisting the knob with his free hand and pushing the sturdy wood open. “Here it is,” he says as he hits the lights and takes a few steps in, expecting the little one to follow shortly behind him. “It’s not much, but it should have everything you need,” he adds hopefully as he drops the girl’s bag down onto the carpeted floor.

Turning back to hear Georgia’s response, Ransom’s surprised to see she’s still standing in the doorway, peeking in shyly as if she’s not sure if she’s allowed to enter. “You coming?” he asks, causing the child to jump. The man frowns.

Georgia’s eyes scan the entirety of the room, taking in all the furniture and simple design features. The walls are a soft white, a few simple pictures of beaches forming a square on one of them. Under the art is a short dresser with a floor mirror tucked beside it. On the opposite wall, a queen sized bed sits low to the floor with nightstands on either side. A gentle cascade of string lights falls over the window behind the bed’s head, another window positioned on the third wall to the left. As the little’s wide eyes absorb the simple space, Ransom realizes this might be the first time the child’s ever had a room of her own.

“You can come in,” the man says, keeping his gentle eyes on the girl in the doorway. As he gazes over her hesitant expression, an image flashes in his mind from when he was about her age; standing before him was his mother, trying to get the little boy to do something he had no courage to face. In the vision, the lady crouches down in front of him, her evened height helping a bit to ease his worries.

Taking in a deep breath, Ransom bends his knees, lowering himself to the ground before the wary child in front of him. Georgia’s eyes widen slightly at his actions. But to his surprise, she decides to take a few steps forward, now standing only feet from the man as her bag sits on the floor between them. “What d’you think?” Ransom asks as he looks around the room once more, almost seeking some sort of approval from the little girl.

Georgia’s big doe eyes widen even further as she begins to speak, “’s really pretty,” she says, the swell in her voice validating her words. “Never seen a room like this, sir.”

“Well, it’s all yours, kid,” Ransom tells her with a quick nod, trying not to get hung up on the thoughts of where she must’ve come from, what kind of neglect she had to have endured to be so impressed at a simple bed and dresser. As he glances briefly at the girl’s face, Ransom can see those same bambi eyes from the pictures on his computer earlier, belonging to the poor creature locked in that wretched cellar, clothed in nothing but dirt and blood-

“My PJ’s are in here,” Georgia’s little voice cuts off the man’s morbid train of thought as she crouches down, unzipping the bag and beginning to shuffle through it. Glancing down as she does so, Ransom can see that she’s seriously lacking in possessions of any kind. I’ll have to take her shopping; she needs new clothes, at least. Could probably use some new toys, as well. She seemed to like books… movies, too. Could start an order online and- Shaking his head he cuts himself off. What’s got him so concerned with all this so suddenly? Though he hates to admit it, deep down his biggest urge is to just spoil her with new things. Is that how she’ll get that I like her? Do I like her? New questions begin to swirl through his mind as the child below him pulls out an old white t-shirt with some faded logo on the front and a pair of purple flannel pants.

“These’re all I have,” the shy girl admits sheepishly as she holds the clothes in her hands, gaze fixed on the floor. Ransom nods, feeling bad for embarrassing her even though he’s not sure he could’ve done anything to prevent it.

“That’s okay, we can get you some new stuff tomorrow,” he tells her, not wanting her to question whether or not he’ll be providing for her materialistically. Georgia’s head shoots up at the man’s words, her eyes filled with what almost appears to be alarm.

“N-new? Don’t have any m-money, sir,” the child mumbles warily, causing Ransom’s expression to soften.

Offering her a tiny smile, he asks, “Now, who said anything about money? That’s something for adults to worry about. And I’ve got plenty to spend on you.” Noticing the faint trembling beginning to rise up through the girl’s body, he continues, “What is it? Don’t you want some new things?”

“Don’t have anything to repay you with,” Georgia replies defeatedly, her eyes drooping in worry.

“Repay me? I don’t expect you to repay me,” Ransom brushes off the idea. Growing uncomfortable with what the child’s words could mean, he decides to end the conversation, rising to his feet and causing Georgia to wince. “You get dressed while I step outside,” he tells her, only earning a small nod before he exits through the wooden frame, closing the door behind him.

“Jesus,” the flustered man breathes to himself as soon as he’s by himself. Repay him? What on earth with? What was that look on her face; she acted like I might’ve wanted some flesh off her bone! Running a distressed hand over his face, Ransom tries to calm his nerves. Relax, he tells himself. Clearly she’s come from a terrible situation where basic necessities weren’t provided - or at least, maybe not without an unfair price. It doesn’t have to be that way anymore. It won’t be that way anymore.

After a few more minutes of silently collecting himself, the door in front of him opens back up to reveal little Georgia, all changed into her pajamas. Ransom’s heart sinks as he notices the marks littering the child’s arms and neck, no wonder why she insisted on keeping her coat on for as long as she could. Noticing the pink and blue toothbrush in her hand, the man asks, “You ready to brush your teeth?” The girl nods.

Ransom leads her to the bathroom next door, switching on the light of the olive-green room and stepping back by the toilet to allow the child to access the sink. “Don’t have toothpaste, sir,” Georgia peeps.

“Alright, not a problem,” he says as he swings open one of the cupboards under the vanity, digging around through some supplies until he pulls out a new tube. “This stuff’s not made for kids, but I guess for tonight it’ll have to do. It’s just mint, that okay?” Georgia nods, not surprising Ransom in the least with her inability to be picky. “Here,” he says, holding his hand out. The little girl hands him the toothbrush, allowing him to squirt some paste out onto the head and run it under the tap. “You know how to do it by yourself? I’m not sure what age kids learn these things at.”

“Mhmm,” Georgia hums, “can do it all by myself!” Ransom can’t help but soften at the child as she looks up at him proudly, taking the toothbrush from his hand and beginning to work it against her tiny teeth.

“All by yourself, huh? Wow, that’s pretty great,” he agrees, slightly impressed at how his words are completely void of sarcasm. After a few minutes of scrubbing, Georgia stops, prompting Ransom to grab her a paper cup from the dispenser positioned on the wall. The little girl spits out the paste, offering the cup back to the man. “Here, I’ll rinse this off, too,” he says as he takes her brush as well, running it under the water before placing it on the counter and throwing the cup in the trash.

“Alright, jammies on, teeth brushed, anything else you need to do before bed?” Earning a simple shake of the head, Ransom nods, turning off the light as the two head back to the bedroom. Once inside, Georgia hurries over to her bag, pulling out a small quilt that looks to be barely big enough to cover the child’s body, along with a stuffed lamb, the animal’s fur visible well worn and loved. “All set?” Ransom asks, earning a small nod. “Okay, kid. Hop into bed,” he instructs. I wonder if she wants a bedtime story, he thinks to himself.

At the man’s word, Georgia does something that catches him completely off guard. Quickly, without making a sound, the little thing scurries to the corner of the room, laying herself down on her side before draping her quilt over herself. Tucking her lamb under her head, she stills, looking back over at Ransom silently.

Ransom freezes. “Georgia?” he asks, earning a flinch from the girl as her eyes grow wide, her bottom lip beginning to tremble.

Across the room, her soft voice hums, “Hmm?”

Sucking in a deep breath, the heartbroken man asks, “What are you doing?”

Georgia can’t help it as a whimper rises in her throat, her words coming out with a wary tremble. “Going to bed.”

Swallowing dryly, Ransom’s brain buzzes, not sure if he should be more worried or angry. “On the floor? In the corner?” The little girl nods, an almost pleading look plastered on her face. “We- I- that’s not where you sleep. Get up,” he instructs. The imploring look on her face only worsens at Ransom’s words, but Georgia does what he says, rising to her feet shakily as she clutches her blanket in one hand, lamb in the other. Tears well up in her eyes as she fights back sobs. Ransom’s far too stunned to say much of anything useful.

“P-please,” the child’s voice quivers, her fear of begging evident in her eyes.

“You’re not sleeping on the floor,” the man tells her firmly.

“Please, s-sir,” she tries again.

“Georgia, I said no,” Ransom insists. Chest heaving, Georgia submits to his orders. Head hanging low, the little girl nods, her tears falling freely down her cheeks before dripping onto the carpet below. “Well?” he asks, unable to keep his venomous anger from seeping into his tone. A part of him wishes he could apologize, tell her it’s not her that he’s upset with, but he can’t seem to find the words as the small girl trembles before him, jumping at his command.

Not wanting to anger Ransom any further, Georgia keeps her mouth shut as she makes her next move. To the man’s complete surprise, she turns and walks right past him, straight out the bedroom door. “Georgia,” Ransom says, his voice growing dangerously low as he follows her out.

The child remains silent as she descends the stairs; Ransom’s too alarmed to say anything other than her name. Georgia trails through the living space as the livid man follows shortly behind her, a million words caught in his throat as he tries to see where she could possibly be going. Turning, Georgia reaches the tall set of sliding glass doors at the entryway of the home. Standing on her tiptoes to switch the locks, she slides the door open, stepping out into the freezing Massachusetts air and turning back to face Ransom.

“Georgia,” Ransom breathes, tears building in his eyes as he watches the girl shake violently from the cold. “What are you doing?” he asks for the second time of the night.

“G-going to bed,” Georgia chokes through sobs, tears and spit covering her face as she shivers uncontrollably. “N-not allowed to sleep on the f-floor. Have to sleep o-outside.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Ransom does his best to not fall apart at the seams. So many feelings are rushing through him in this moment; it’s hard to focus on anything other than the pounding of his heart in his ears and the terrible ache in his chest. “Georgia,” he states, unable to make his voice as gentle as he knows he should. “Get in here. Now.”

Fumbling for words, the little girl obeys, stepping back inside as Ransom opens his reddened eyes, slamming the door shut and locking it behind her. Turning to face the child, he uses all his strength to hold in his overflowing emotions. Tears slip down from the corners of his eyes as he says her name again. “Georgia.” It’s all he can manage to say.

“S-sleep here? Inside? Please,” the crying girl begs as she lowers herself down onto the scratchy welcome mat and covers herself up with her blanket, easing her head down onto her lamb before looking back up at the man above her.

Unable to fight the child any further on the matter, Ransom surrenders. “Fine,” he says as he turns and leaves the little girl there to cry herself to sleep on the mat, switching off all the lights as he heads for the stairs.

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#softie #softie: a place to sleep #eun's writing #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale series #ransom drysdale au #ransom drysdale x oc #ransom drysdale x child!oc #dad!ransom drysdale #soft!ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale angst #ransom drysdale fluff #hurt comfort #knives out #knives out fanfiction #knives out au

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