#ransom drysdale x ofc

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: The Endless

Kinktober Masterlist

Kink: Body Horror

Pairing: Dennis x Reader, Ransom x Reader

Wordcount: 6,011

Summary: The evil at the heart of Drysdale manor defies all explanation—and comprehension.

Warnings: Body Horror, Victorian Era, Eldritch Horror, Lovecraftian Horror, Dubcon, Noncon, Monsterfucking, Manipulation, Graphic descriptions of gore

A/N: here’s my super late second Kinktober entry! i’m sorry procrastination got the better of me this month, but i hope you all still enjoy my work. as always, comments, reblogs and feedback are always welcome. 💖 mind the warnings, and enjoy!

You are awake. 

Cool air stirs the moth-eaten drapes hanging over the narrow window, and gooseflesh rises on your clammy, sweat-damp skin. Your hands tremble as you clutch the bedsheets, aching from the tightness of your grip while you stare into the dark. 

Why are you awake?

Your bedroom is awash in gray twilight, illuminated only by a stripe of cold, clear moonlight that spills across the floor like water. The shadowy corners of your threadbare room offer no answers either, and you slowly unclench your shaking fists to place a hand over your heaving chest. 

A dream? No. A nightmare. 

Nothing of it remains now, only dim memories of pulsing warmth, of hungry hands and mouths. You swallow, your tongue sticking to the roof of your dry mouth. You have not slept easily in the manor since your arrival two weeks prior, and tonight is no different.

The wood flooring creaks underneath you as you make your way toward the window, intent on closing it. You pause with your hands on the windowpane, staring up through the glass. It is a cloudless night, the full moon hanging low above the treetops like a fat jewel. The sky around it is dark—there are no stars. No stars at all. 

How can there be a moon, but no stars?

You do not remember opening the window before you went to sleep, and as it creaks shut, the servant’s bell rings insistently beside your bed. You turn toward the sound, your lips pressed into a thin line. It doesn’t stop ringing as you gather your robe up from the back of the chair by the desk in the corner, and tie it tightly around your waist. After a few tries, you get the oil lamp on the bedside table lit, and soft orange light blooms on the wick. The still shadows in the corners of the room now breathe and shift as the flame dances behind the glass. 

The bell rings again. 

The hallway is dark, the cool air still and stale. Your lamp casts long shadows on the walls, dimly illuminating the dusty, ill-kept portraits hanging there. As you pass, the grim faces of Drysdales past glower down at you, the corners of their lips seeming to curve in the firelight.

The light plays tricks sometimes, in the dark. 

You can hear the wind outside, branches scratching against the worn, crumbling sides of the manor, like tapping fingers. The manor had been a grand place once, but try as you might, you cannot imagine it so. Few traces of that splendor remain in the empty rooms of decaying furniture and dead leaves. Much like its owner, the house is failing, curling in on itself in its old age, the water-logged walls sagging inward as if the house were holding its breath. 

You ascend the stairs, careful not to put too much weight on the railing; the iron is pitted and rusting from the damp, and you are not fool enough to trust it. As you reach the landing, door at the end of the hall opens, spilling light into the gloom. Dennis stands in the doorway, fiddling with his spectacles. 

“S-sorry to wake you,” he mumbles. It’s as if he’s trying to look anywhere but your face. When he does, his cheeks go pink, and he looks away again. “H-his chest is hurting again.” 

You offer him a tired smile. 

“You needn’t apologize to me for doing my job, Mr. Drysdale.” In the short weeks you have been at the manor, you have come to know Dennis Drysdale as a sweet, nervous man, and he has done little to dissuade you of that impression. He steps aside to allow you into the room, still stammering as he trails behind you. 

“That may well be, b-but is after midnight. I-I’m perfectly capable of administering the injection myself, but he insisted. Grandfather can be quite…stubborn.” He murmurs the last part as he closes the door with a sharp click. The master suite is bright and warm in comparison to your room, a fire raging in the marble hearth, and the sconces lit. 

“I truly am sorry for waking you.” Dennis catches your sleeve with the tips of his fingers. Suddenly, you are not cold at all, your body brimming with heat. 

“It’s really no trouble. Consider it repayment—I did so enjoy seeing the grounds yesterday.” You had thanked him then, too; and his cheeks, already bitten red by the crisp autumn chill had gone even redder. You have found little to like about Drysdale manor, but Dennis’ company remains one of few instances of silver lining.

“P-perhaps I-I could show you more. I-inside, I mean.” His expression turns hopeful. “The music room i-is quite lovely.” 

“I would quite like that.” 

You wash your hands in the darkened washroom before removing the injection kit from the cabinet. The bed at the center of the room is a massive, four postered thing that like the rest of the manor, has seen better days. The intricate carvings on the canopy’s pillars are worn with age now, the gold leaf eroded by time and touch, and the red velvet curtains eaten through by moths. 

Ransom Drysdale lies on the bed, his breath a wet rattle in his sluggishly moving chest. The old man smiles at you as you approach, and despite his age, his teeth are remarkably straight and white. Ransom’s thin, drawn skin stretches tightly across his skull, the bone pressing through so sharply you can’t believe the skin doesn’t split from the force. He reminds you of a baby bird, light and fragile. He beckons you with one frail hand.

“Good evening.” 

“Mr. Drysdale,” you greet him. “Are you not feeling well?” His smile thins, and he gestures at himself.

“This body is almost ninety-five years old. I never feel well.” He watches you with remarkably sharp blue eyes as you put on gloves and prepare the long silver syringe, poking it through the rubbery covering stretched over the top of the bottle. Ransom offers you his right arm, fist clenched as you tie the rubber tourniquet. He doesn’t move as you slide the needle in.

“Don’t get old,” he advises as you put pressure on the pinprick, staunching the sluggish flow of his blood. 

“I don’t think I can stop that,” you reply, wiping at the spot with an alcohol soaked pad before wrapping his thin arm in a bandage. “The Lord gives us each our time.” You clean the syringe off and store it back in the kit. Ransom’s  dry laugh becomes a gurgling cough, and when he pulls his hand away from his mouth there is red staining his palm. 

“The Lord?” He scoffs. “Come now, I thought you much more intelligent than that.” You cannot help your own lip from curling in disapproval. 

“Of course I believe in God.” You snap closed the latch of the kit with more force than necessary. His smile widens at your words, and for a moment all you can see are those too-white, too-perfect teeth. There are so many, it’s like his mouth is wider than it should be. 

“Ah, yes. You are a proper lady, after all.” Mockery drips from every syllable, and you cannot stop your own face from wrinkling with distaste. “Please, indulge an old man his eccentricities.” He pats the bedside with a frail hand. “I shall be asleep soon enough.” You glance at Dennis, who stands near the fireplace, doing his level best to not be noticed. 

“You are an atheist?” You ask as you sit. 

“Not by chance,” Ransom replies. “But by experience.” For a moment, there is no sound other than the crackling whisper of the fire. He stares at it, and the flames dance strangely in his eyes. “All my long life, I have seen little of the doings of God.”

“And what have you seen?” The wind howls outside, and the fire burns low, and the old man’s eyes seem to pierce through the very essence of your being. 

“The malevolent dark.” Ransom licks his lips. “Once you have peeled back the veil and looked beneath, my Sweet, there is no way to sew back up the wound.” A chill rolls down your spine as if drawn by an icy finger. You look away.  “How can one be God of godless things?” You want nothing more than to leave this room, for the elder Drysdale’s bright blue eyes to look anywhere but at you. 

“I am not a theologian, Mr. Drysdale,” you reply, swallowing thickly. “I am a nurse.” 

“And is that all you are?” He asks, and you shrink at the hunger in his gaze. “Beneath?” The way he looks at you… Were he a younger man, you suspect he might have reached for your hand—or the hem of your dress. You stand, suddenly, your face uncomfortably warm and your stomach churning. 

“I trust the pain has subsided?” The question comes out curtly, and Ransom laughs, his voice like dry reeds. 

“Yes thank you.”

Though the hallway is as dark and unwelcoming as it was before, you still  prefer the quiet dread over the fevered intensity of the elder Drysdale. Somehow, it takes longer to find your room again, the twisting, labyrinthine corridors more confusing in the dark. You set the lantern on the desk and untie your robe, hanging it neatly on the hook at the back of the door. 

Once you have peeled back the veil and looked beneath, there is no way to sew up the wound. 

As you turn toward the bed, there is a noise like rustling paper. Your chest seizes, and you feel your body clench as you turn toward the sound. For a moment you do not see it, squinting in the dim light of your little oil lantern. There by the door, the corner of the wallpaper has begun to peel. As you watch, it curls down another inch or two, gummy strands of old glue snapping as it falls. You move to fix it, standing on the tips of your toes to reach. But as you press yourself against the wall, it is not spongy, crumbling plaster you feel but warmth. Like skin.

You recoil, retching. 

The faded vines painted on the yellowed wallpaper writhe like snakes as you stare, their leaves trembling. There is a buzzing in your skull, a vibration that makes it impossible to focus on the shifting patterns. You reach up again, and catch the edge of a loose strip under your fingernails. There is a wet, tearing sound as you pull at the wallpaper, your fingers slipping, slick now as you peel the paper back from the wall. Your eyes widen, and you drop the strip in your hand with a muffled shriek as you clap your hand to your mouth to stifle it.

There is no stone or plaster beneath the yellowed wallpaper—but instead there is raw, red flesh. Dark, purple veins ran through it, disappearing beneath the torn edges of the paper. It pulses wetly with the house’s heartbeat, and a lidless, red rimmed eye peers out at you from the gore, rolling as you reel back. 

Warmth trickles from your nose, and you wipe at it with the back of your hand, a whimper escaping your lips as it comes away wet and red. The heartbeat grows louder and louder until it is all you can feel, trembling in your bones. It isn’t half as horrible as the voice, though, the voice that whispers into your bleeding ears like grinding glass—

You collapse to the floor, and as your vision narrows, and on your tongue you taste warm copper. Your body trembles violently, your limbs flailing. The full moon shines down on you through the window, the only light in the starless sky. 

There is no way to sew up the wound.

—

You wake in near darkness to the sound of a knock. The little window at the foot of your bed reveals a darkening sky, its edges tinged with fast fading pink and orange. I slept all day? You quickly rinse your face in the bowl at your bedside, wincing as you wipe at the crusted blood by your nose. It comes away easily, and you rub it between your fingers until it dissipates in the water. 

Another nightmare. 

The wallpaper by the door is whole and unmarred, no signs of the horrific thing you’d seen beneath it. Perhaps you’d scratched yourself in your sleep? It is the only remaining possibility. The knock sounds again, and you call out over your shoulder. 

“Coming!”

When you open the door, Dennis is on the other side. 

“Oh good, you’re awake.” There is genuine relief on his features. “You were quite tired, earlier.” In his hands is a tea tray, and your face warms when you realize he’s brought it for you. You step aside to allow him entry. Dennis sets down the tea on the desk, and stands next to it awkwardly. 

“I do not remember your earlier visit,” you say apologetically as shame settles like lead in your belly. “I was remiss in my duties today.” 

“You were unwell.” Dennis waves off your concern, smiling gently at you. “The house still stands, and my grandfather remains as ill-tempered as ever. There is little you have missed.” Your laugh is unexpected, escaping your lips before you can stifle it. Dennis’ smile widens. 

He is so handsome when he smiles. And he is, truly, without the worry and anxiety lining his face, he seems twenty years younger, standing there in your room. 

“You are too kind.” 

“Someone should be.” He holds your gaze a fraction of a second too long, and you feel your heart flutter in your chest. “Your, ah, your tea. We shouldn’t let it get cold.” 

“Oh, n-no. Of course not.” 

There are no chaperones here in the manor to ensure the two of you remain decent, but you leave the door open out of habit anyway, the sunset turning the hallway orange and purple. You drop two sugars into your cup, and then pour in the tea from the little porcelain pot. 

“Have you always lived at Drysdale manor?” You ask, and Dennis shakes his head. 

“Oh, no.” He looks down at his cup. “When my mother died, Ransom took me in.” 

“I’m so sorry.” His smile turns sad. “And your father?”

“Died before I was born. He and Grandfather didn’t really… get along. I’d never met him until the funeral, actually. He raised me. Paid for my schooling…” Dennis pauses, looking wistfully at the bands of fading sunlight. “It is a debt I can never hope to repay.” He turns those soft blue eyes to you. “I know the manor is… less than pleasant.” 

You cannot disagree. “You should not have to stay.” 

“Grandfather will let me go, soon.” He says, though neither of you truly believe it. “He says the time is coming when this house will be mine to do with as I wish.” 

“And what do you wish to do with it?” You ask, draining the last of your tea from your cup. 

“Let it crumble into the sea.” Dennis finishes his cup, and places it back on the tray. “I am truly happy to see you better. You did not seem…yourself.” 

You grimace. “My nights have not been particularly restful, Mr. Drysdale.” Reluctantly, you meet his gaze. “And the nights here are long.” Dennis looks at you with a grim smile. 

“They are indeed.” He casts a pensive look at his teacup. “I should like to visit somewhere with long days.” 

“Somewhere warm. Somewhere the sea isn’t quite so gray, and cold.” Dennis’ expression lightens as you sigh. “I do miss the sea.”

“I should like to see it. Your sea, I mean.” Dennis has seen even less of the world than you have, the majority of his experience limited to the manor and the sleepy township on the other side of the overgrown wood. To one side of the crumbling manor is the wood, and the other the sea. Here, it is as dark and cold as the manor that looms over it, angry waves crashing endlessly against the rocky bluffs. 

“You are a young man, yet. There is plenty of time, if you do not mind me saying so, Mr—”

“Dennis. Please.” His fingers twitch on the desk, like he wants to touch you. “I should like to hear you call me by my name.” You hesitate, almost afraid of the familiarity. 

“Dennis.” His smile is brighter than the setting sun.

“Thank you.” 

— 

The house is a cruel maze. Every turn you take brings you back the the master bedroom, the doors appearing insistently around every corner. You do not want to open them. You want anything but to open them. The doors glow with a sickly pale purple light, vibrating and pulsing excitedly like a beating heart. Around you, the hallway is brightly lit, the chandeliers above you sparkling as if they’d only just been dusted, the wood paneling polished to gleaming. You turn away, and the house creaks around you like it’s heaving a sigh. 

You do not want to open the door, but the dream does, presenting it to you as you try to flee from it, the hallway stretching out in front of you with the doors at the end. 

The handles are cold under your fingers, and you press down on the latch, throwing them open. Ransom waits for you on the other side. With every step you take toward him, he looks younger. He is handsome when you reach him, and though his eyes sweep down over your naked body, you feel no shame. 

“Nothing great can be had without sacrifice.” The knife he presses into your hands is of the clearest, blackest glass. The symbols carved on the hilt vibrate in your skull painfully. Your body moves without your direction, turning towards the fireplace. Dennis stands in front of it—naked too. 

“Cut.” 

You do. 

You have to put the symbols somewhere—they can’t stay in your head, they’re too big. It hurts to have them there, and you need to put them somewhere, anywhere. So you put them on Dennis’ skin, carving them lovingly into his chest. He doesn’t scream. 

“Cut.”

You do. 

The knife slides in like butter, and Dennis’ skin parts as easily as the wallpaper. What pours out of him isn’t blood, thick like tar, like pulled taffy, pooling at your feet.

You sit up, a scream threatening to burst from your throat. Like last night, the only light is that of the moon, painting shapes on your wall through the window. Shaking, you reach for the matches, lighting the wick of your oil lantern with clumsy fingers. 

The dream has done more than unnerve you. Warning t you bells ring in your mind’s ear, calling for you to run, run—and you want to. You look down at your hands—there is blood under your fingernails. 

I have to find Dennis. 

The thought consumes you, driving you as you tie your robe around your nightgown with shaking hands and sweaty palms. The darkness in the hallway is oppressive, bearing down on your little lantern with weight that leaves you staggering. On the wall, the portraits whisper to one another, just out of reach of the dim firelight. You wipe at the blood beginning to leak from your right nostril, and the droplets that have already dried there flake off onto the back of your hand. 

“Dennis!” Your voice is muffled by the dark, swallowed by it—not even the echo returns to your ears. 

Slowly, you ascend the stairs. 

With each step, the discomfort weighing in your stomach like lead grows heavier and heavier. Something terrible awaits you upstairs, you just know it—and yet you cannot stop. 

The air at the landing is thick and warm, and you gag as you breathe it in. You hold your lamp aloft, praying that it will illuminate the bespectacled face of your host—it does not. There is a gurgling moan, muffled by the closed door, and you shiver when you hear it. 

“D-Dennis?”

Pale light leaks out from underneath the door of the master bedroom, and terrified tears gather in your eyes as you approach it. There’s a dull thud, and a wet crunch, and the light pulses like a heartbeat. With a shaking hand, you push against the door.

A scream rips itself from your throat. 

The putrid mass of flesh almost hurts to look at, looming in the dimly lit chamber. It is as though Ransom has been unmade, reduced to a trembling puddle of skin and hands and teeth that cling to Dennis’ writhing body like a leech. Its form is a grotesque patchwork of twisted flesh and horror, malformed limbs, distorted faces that writhed and contorted with sickening fluidity. Its skin—if it could even be called that—was a pulsating, mottled mess of sickly colors; patches of ashen gray and bruised purples that oozed dark, foul blood. 

Everywhere it touches, it sticks fast like glue, the flesh flowing together seamlessly, like they’re one single being. 

Blood trickles from both your nostrils, flowing down over your lips as your brain rattles uncomfortably in your skull. Something like a mouth opens wide, revealing rows and rows of teeth while bulbous unblinking eyes stare at you from his misshapen form. It speaks, and warm blood leaks from your ears at the sound of its voice. 

“Godless-ess-ess things-ngs-gs.” The mouths do not speak in unison, each stepping on the tail of the other as they rush to get the words out. The Ransom-thing pulls Dennis’ mouth open, and his gurgled moan of pain is cut short as it reaches inside. His throat bulges obscenely as the fist travels down it, and the wet choking noises are all you can hear as Dennis turns tearful, bloodshot eyes to you. That horrible light grows warm enough to burn, the skin of your cheeks blistering and splitting open in the wake of its brilliance. 

How can it shine so bright and be so dark?

The world bends, ripping open like paper as the room runs like watercolor paint, with only darkness behind. It’s like he said. You cannot make the words come out of your mouth as your eyes begin to roll, your jaw locking. You taste fresh blood as your teeth sink into your lip, your whine of strangled in your tight throat. Malevolent dark. Blood is dripping from both of your nostrils, leaking warm copper all over your lips and chin. Your head feels full to bursting, like everything inside is going to leak out of your ears, and you are falling—

And you go willingly into nothing. 

—

The sunlight streaming through your window is the brightest its been since you arrived. It is the warmth on your face that wakes you first, and then the terror lances through you, fresh as ever. The same four walls greet your wide eyes as you stare disbelievingly around the room. Your mouth tastes like stale blood, and you find the source as your tongue touches the sore patch on your lip where your teeth had broken through the skin. 

You wash yourself as quickly as you are able before venturing out into the uncharacteristically bright hallway. Perhaps it is the angle of the sun through the window on this particular morning, but the worn carpet seems brighter, its pale red restored to bright crimson. The portraits on the wall have lost their gaunt, fragile quality. Indeed, you can see their rosy cheeks, as if their sallow complexion was shed with the heavy dark. 

As you arrive at the second floor landing, you spy Dennis in the doorway of the master suite. 

“Dennis!” You rush toward him, your heart in your throat as you recall your blood-soaked nightmares. For what else could they be? He looks surprised to see you, pausing with his hand on the door handle. 

“Good morning,” He replies, his expression grim “I was—I was just going to call for you.” You pause in your preliminary inspection of his features, 

He looks at the ground. “He died last night.” 

“What? He—he died?” Your shock makes you take a step back, searching Dennis’ features for the lie. There is none. 

You look past him into the bedroom. Ransom’s frail body is indeed there on the bed, his skeletal chest still. You wait for a moment, to see if those mad blue eyes will open again, but the do not. Dizzily, you lean against the doorframe, one hand on your thundering heart. The memory is there, as sharp and clear as crystal. Tearing flesh and sinew, the thick taste of blood in the air—

 “I-I should check his pulse.” You grimace at the thought of approaching the bed, but you do not know what else to do. “To be sure.” Dennis shakes his head.

“You-you don’t understand,” he says sadly. “I-I was here when grandfather took his last breath.” Dennis’ blue eyes shine with unshed tears, and you suspect he might have cried before you’d gotten there. “I have already sent for the vicar—h-he should be here tomorrow.” You have no desire to approach the bed, nor Ransom’s body. He moves forward to close the door, forcing you back out into the hall. “You… you need not stay longer than necessary. I—I shall of course ensure you are fully compensated for your time.” 

“My time?” You pause, shaking your head. “I—are you alright?” He seems fine, his skin pale but unblemished. There are no teethmarks, no missing fingers, no melting, gelatinous flesh. Instead, he smiles at you, that soft, gentle smile.  

“I was sure you would be packing your bags already. Not… asking how I am.” He reaches for your hand, passing his thumb softy over your knuckles as your cheeks prick with heat as he shakes his head. Your stomach flutters at his words. With a sharp intake of breath, you sink your teeth into your lip, tasting warm copper as it aligns with the delicate bite mark you’d left behind just last night. Dennis drops your hand, as if suddenly aware of the impropriety of having held it in the first place. 

“I—I’ve no right to ask, but… Will you stay? Until the vicar arrives?” 

“Of course!” You exclaim.  In truth, you do desire to leave the manor—more than almost anything—but you’ve little desire to leave Dennis alone in this dismal, terrible place. He clasps his hands behind his back, like he’s trying to keep from touching you. 

“Thank you. For all you’ve done for my family.” His reluctant to say it leaves him floundering for, a moment, his mouth working silently. “And for me.” Your throat tightens, your tongue floundering uselessly in your mouth. 

“Y-you’re welcome.” 

—

It feels as if you’ve wandered into a dream as you pack up your things, emptying the dark wardrobe in the corner of all your personal effects. Your face heats as you recall the warmth of his hand, the softness of his smile. Were you back in the city, were you both unfettered by duty and class—perhaps Dennis might have courted you. And if you had parents to approve of the match, certainly they would. 

Another life, perhaps. 

As you finish tucking the last of your belongings into your bags, a light knock comes at the door. 

“May I come in?”

You look down at yourself hurriedly, smoothing nervous hands over your dress. 

“Yes.” The door opens slowly, and Dennis smiles bashfully on the other side. 

“I thought perhaps we, er, we might have dinner. Together.” He looks down. “T-the cook always goes home just before dusk, and I, well…” Dennis doesn’t have to say it. He doesn’t want to be alone. You don’t either. 

“I would like that.” 

You’ve not eaten in the dining room before—indeed you’d never been in it at all except in passing when you had very first arrived. Now, however, it seems almost warm, the sconces lit, a fire raging in the massive hearth as the dying sunlight fades from the wide, tall windows. He greets you with a nervous smile. 

“Please—sit.” He pulls out your chair for you, and then takes the seat to your left. The dining room is well lit, the cobwebs cleaned from the rafters. The low chandelier is polished to gleaming, and you wonder at the state of the manor. Dennis uncovers the plates, setting aside the dish covers. There is rabbit on your plate, with fresh asparagus in cream—by far the most appetizing meal you have had since coming to Drysdale manor.

“Oh, Dennis…” It feels like he’s done this for you. “This is lovely.” 

Dennis’ rings tap softly against your wine glass as he fills it. Funny. You hadn’t noticed him wearing them before, though you cannot be sure. You pluck the proffered glass from his fingers, and take a sip. It’s light, fruity. 

His expression fills with warmth as he looks at you. 

“I-I admit, I h-have come to quite enjoy your company.” He says softly. “Would it be bold to assume y-you feel the same?” Your throat tightens, and you look down at your plate, your face warming. 

“Bold, yes. Quite bold.” You clench your hands together under the table where he cannot see. “But not untrue.” You smile at him.  Dennis is as easy to talk to as ever—perhaps even moreso, now, without the specter of his grandfather’s disapproval hanging over him. The food is delicious, and you find yourself ravenous for it, eating with gusto. 

“If it is not too grim to ask, what will you do now?”

“What do you mean?” Dennis cocks his head at you. 

“Well, I—you said your grandfather would be letting you go, soon,” you reply, dabbing at the corners of your mouth with a napkin. “I thought you might travel.” 

Dennis chuckles. “Why would I do that? I’ve everything I need right here.” I would let it crumble into the sea. He reaches for your hand, and you let him hold it. “In fact, I… I thought I might ask you to stay with me. Here, at the manor.” You cannot help the look of distaste that flickers across your face, and Dennis laughs. “I know, I know. But it’s mine, now, you see? We can do whatever we like within these walls.” 

“Firstly, we shall take down those horrid portraits,” you reply, and he laughs. 

“See? You’ll make an excellent lady of the house yet.” 

There is a weight to his words that brings prickling heat to your cheeks. 

He sweeps away the plates, uncaring when one of them tips onto the floor, spilling half eaten food onto the rug. Dennis pulls you close and you gasp, your palms flat against his chest. You don’t push him away, though, no, your fingers tangle in his lapels, clinging to him desperately as he stares longingly down into your eyes. 

Dennis kisses you then, softly brushing his lips against your own. You can taste the hunger on his skin. 

“You care for me,” the words are hushed. “And I you.” You grip the edge of the table behind you so hard you feel the blood drain from your knuckles. His mouth is fierce against yours, his teeth tugging at your bottom lip until you gasp. The swift pecks you have been given pale in comparison to the way Dennis seems to want to consume you, the hungry way he drinks down each weak little mewl you make. 

When you imagined Dennis’ hands on your body, you had thought perhaps that his fingers would tremble as they undid the buttons of your dress—but instead they are sure, steady. He parts the layers of fabric until your cheeks burn with the indecency of it all, but you cannot bring yourself to ask him to stop. Instead, it is your voice that trembles as you mumble against his mouth. 

“T-the servants, someone will see—” 

“They don’t stay after dark,” Dennis pushes the two halves of your dress from your shoulders and it pools at your hips as he scoots your hips backward until you are seated firmly on the table. “You know that.” His soft blue eyes are hard and ravenous, now as he looks at you. Your cotton under-dress offers little decency, the dark circles of your nipples poking up through the fabric. Dennis drags his thumb across one of them, glorying in your muted whine.

Your head spins, buoyed by the sweet wine still on your tongue. God in heaven, you want—you want to touch him too, and you do, cupping his face as he devours you. That is what he’s doing, you realize as Dennis’ teeth tug hard at your lower lip. He drinks down each breathy cry as if he has been desperate for them all this time, and you gasp as he drags his mouth down your jaw, nipping at your throat before pulling away to admire the indecent bruise you know is forming at your throat. 

“D-Dennis—!” His gaze does not waver, as if you had not called his name. He fills every moment, so that no space remains for your uncertainties. “W-wait, we should—” 

“We should have each other as we desire.” Eagerly, Dennis drinks in every inch of exposed skin as he pulls aside your collar, licking his lips. He takes his time to with each button, undoing them one by one until he reaches bare skin. “Don’t you think, my Sweet?” He looses the tie at his throat, dragging a thumb across your parted lips as he works loose the buttons on his own shirt. You falter as you reach for him, your brows drawing together in confusion.

You aren’t sure why his words have given you pause, why they set warning bells ringing in the recesses of your mind. You think of your dream again, that horrible, hungry flesh, and for an instant, Dennis’ lips taste of copper. He gropes at your bare breasts, breathing heavily against your mouth as he moans. You push at his chest, suddenly finding him heavier than you’d thought he’d be, and so much more solid. 

“Dennis, Dennis wait—” There is annoyance on his face when he pulls away, an emotion you’ve not yet seen him express, not with you. 

“For what?” He snaps, his eyes hard. “The vicar, so that I may place a useless trinket on your finger?” He holds your hand up, dragging his lips along the back of it. “Oh, but you’re a proper lady, aren’t you, Sweet?”A proper lady. Dennis nips at your fingers with sharp teeth. “I promise I’ll keep you,” he says, grinning darkly as you stare at him. “Forever.” 

Dennis peels away the last vestiges of your clothing, leaving you bare before him. 

“Beautiful.” You’ve had no touch other than your own, and your eyes go wide as Dennis’ cups your warm center with a groan. He slides his fingers along the seam of your lips, parting them to reveal your slick folds. He smiles. “Not such a proper lady, then.” 

Perhaps it is the way he says it, the way he turns his head just so, the smile on his lips turning just a tiny bit cruel. The knowledge passes from your mind and leaves your lips in an instant, his true name falling from your tongue in shock and horror. 

“Ransom?”

The smile widens, curling at the edges of his lips and spreading until it is so wide it threatens to split his skull in two—

“Dennis!” 

“He’s not here, Love,” Ransom’s mouth has too many teeth in it. “I ate him all to pieces.” His eyes are empty black holes when he looks at you, that horrible purple light leaking from his mouth. Warmth leaks from your nose as you push fruitlessly at his chest. “They always did say the resemblance was uncanny,” he says, clucking his tongue at you. “Don’t you think so, Sweet?”

You scream. 

#cevans fanfiction #cevans fandom #chris evans fic #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom x reader #ransom x you #horror #darkfic #dubcon #ransom drysdale x OFC #monsterfucking #dark!fic #dark mc #eldritch horror #boxofbonesfic #kinktober 2023 #kinktober

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Oxytocin

Title: Oxytocin

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors – DNI

Fandom: Knives Out AU

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Older!Black!Fem!OFC (Ivy Kensington)

Word Count: 3.1K

Summary: At a New Year’s Eve party, Ransom Drysdale’s life is forever changed by a chance meeting with Ivy Kensington. 

Warnings: age gap (Ivy is 38, Ransom is 19 in flashbacks), Mommy kink, Mommy Domme/baby boy, dry humping, orgasm denial, mention of virginity, aftercare, size kink, oral sex (m receiving), cum swallowing

A/N: My tiles for @thebasementspouses VOTM Ransom Drysdale BINGO were: dry humping, mommy kink, orgasm denial, virginity, size kink. Submission for @the-slumberparty’s Eight Types of Love February 2024 Sleepover Challenge(Pragma – longstanding love). Thank you to @peyton-warren for the beta, you saved me from myself!

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

YouTube Music playlist is here.

Spotify playlist is here.

My Masterlist

From the moment he laid eyes on her, Ransom’s world stopped. The sound of her laughter, the glow of her chestnut skin, the way her deep brown irises held his focus; he couldn’t choose his favorite of her attributes. He watched as she commanded the attention of the room as she regaled her guests with tales of her various adventures traveling the globe.

He was only nineteen when he met her that New Year’s Eve night. Ivy Kensington. She was thirty-eight and newly divorced. The poor bastard that let her slip through his fingers must be insane, Ransom thought to himself. He loved how lively she was, as if divorce was exactly what she needed to feel alive.

He doesn’t know what possessed him that night to walk right up to her but, God help him, he thanks his lucky stars that he did. As he approached her, his hopes were high. Until she noticed him, turning to acknowledge the younger man. When he went to open his mouth, it flopped open and then closed after several seconds of awkward silence.

A grin spread across her face before she spoke, “You have got to be Linda and Richard’s son. Handsome like your father, and venturesome just like your mother. Now, what did you walk all the way over here for? Looked like you were about to say something interesting,” she teased, a hand going to her hip as she shifted on her feet.

“Ransom. That’s my name. Uh, I just…what I mean to say is, um-”

“Slow down, baby boy,” she soothed, stopping him mid-ramble to step closer so she could hold his chin between her manicured thumb and forefinger, “What did you want to say, Ransom?”

Her gaze drew him in, and he instantly felt at ease, gaining his voice back. “I wanted to know if you had plans for midnight, Mrs. Kensington. You know, the kiss?” he asks, voice trembling only slightly.

“It’s Ms. Kensington. You want to be my midnight kiss?” she questioned, tilting her head to the side as she looked up at him, “That is very bold of you to ask, especially coming from a virgin,” she said matter-of-factly.

His eyes widened and his brows shot up his forehead at the mention of his still intact virginity. Up to this point, no one knew he’d never been laid. He’d had his share of kissing, sure. Every time he wanted to go the distance, it never panned out. But how could she tell?

“You’re wondering how I know. You just have that look about you. Not necessarily innocent, more like naïve. And damn lucky that I don’t already have a kiss lined up. Meet me up there at midnight,” she instructed, peeking up the stairs to the area overlooking the party.

All Ransom could do was nod, for fear that opening his mouth would be a repeat of his earlier blunder.

“Now, shoo. I have other guests to entertain, and that precious face of yours will surely divert my attention,” she insisted, her hand patting his baby-faced cheek as she walked around him.

Ransom was left gobsmacked. He succeeded at talking to a woman. Well, he only succeeded with her help, but he’s not gonna mention that if anyone asks. For all intents and purposes, he’s arranged a secret rendezvous with an older woman. No elaboration was necessary, according to him at least.

For the next few hours, Ransom not-so-sneakily kept an eye on wherever Ivy went. He wouldn’t call it stalking her. He was just protecting his interests. He watched as man after man came up to Ivy, crowding her personal space. Ransom was seething quite visibly until he saw how elegantly she dispatched each potential suitor, politely letting them down and sending a look his way to let him know she saw him in the crowd.

He stopped sneering as much after that. She could handle herself just fine without him lurking. He knew that now, but it didn’t stop his eyes from searching for her the rest of the night. 

As 9 turned into 10 and 10 turned into 11, he busied himself with sitting on one of the exquisite phthalo green velvet couches in the parlor. He looked at all the knickknacks that Ivy must have picked up on various excursions around the world. For a moment, he felt like he may be underwhelming to such an amazing woman. But he let that thought die as people started to count down from ten in the other room.

He moved swiftly through the crowd, taking the long staircase two steps at a time to get to the top where Ivy stands waiting for him. Standing in front of her, his focus tied to her and only her. As the partygoers counted down to 1, his hand snaked around her shorter form and pulled her close.

Their breaths mingled; body heat was shared between them. The instant their lips met; it was over. As if the entire party vanished, neither of them tried to keep the kiss innocent. Deepening the kiss, Ransom used his tongue to massage hers, eliciting a deep rumbling moan out of her as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Emboldened by his position, he let his hand slide down past the small of her back to her ample backside. Giving it a healthy squeeze, he sighed into the kiss when she tangled her fingers in his hair.

As Ivy broke the kiss, she rested her forehead against his as they both caught their breath. Ivy lifted her head and smiled as she saw her garnet-toned lipstick smeared across his lips. He looked thoroughly debauched between the makeup on his face and the state of his hair. This simply would not do.

At his furrowed brow, she removed herself from his embrace and took his hand in hers. Pulling him down the long hallway, they entered the master bedroom and made their way to the attached bathroom. He finally caught his reflection in the mirror as she grabbed a makeup wipe from the cabinet. She cleaned his face while holding his jaw as if she thought he would try and escape from her grip. His gaze stayed on her face the entire time.

It had been so long since someone cared for him in this way. He watched as she threw away the wipe in the trash and finger-combed through his hair, making him presentable once again. In a flash, he was in a trance, something he couldn’t put a finger on. He felt so safe with Ivy like she could tell him to do anything, and he would do it without question. He was so deep into subspace that he barely registered Ivy calling his name as he blankly stared at her.

“Ransom? Talk to me, baby,” she encouraged, the back of her hand sweeping down his cheek. His eyes closed as she administered the simple yet desirable touch. 

His mouth opened as his tongue darted out to wet his lips, but no words followed his actions. Ivy guided him back to the bedroom to sit down on the King-sized bed. All the while, he remained focused on her. 

“Alright, baby boy, you gotta help me out here. Where did you go? Come on back to Mommy,” she prodded, surprised when Ransom bit his lip at her use of the word Mommy. Her eyes grew dark, and she understood instantly what he needed from her.

She instructed him to lay back on the bed and he did so promptly. The tent in his pants highlighted his arousal as she climbed over his lap. His hands moved on their own to pull her hips flush with his, but she swatted them away.

“Ask for permission to touch Mommy, baby boy,” she directed, her hands ghosting over his chest as he breathed shallowly.

“May I please touch you, Mommy?” he begged, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“After being so polite, how can I say no to my baby boy?” she conceded, reaching up to let the top of her dress down so her breasts could spill out, “You may touch Mommy, baby.”

“Thank you, Mommy,” he mewled, gripping one breast in each hand as she sat down on his clothed cock. 

She felt his length and girth with how hard he was. He felt the heat coming from her pussy as she ground into him. They both felt the intensity in the air surrounding them. When Ivy leaned down to let Ransom suckle her breast, he did so with a little too much enthusiasm at first. Once he got into a rhythm, he relished that he was able to pull soft whines from her.

Soon enough, he began to feel the tightening chokehold of his impending orgasm. He stopped sucking on her tits and chased after his inevitable end. But he was interrupted by Ivy’s words and the abrupt halt of her hips.

“Baby boy, if you want to cum tonight, you’re gonna need to make Mommy cum first. Is that understood?” she challenged.

“Yes, Mommy,” he sputtered, groaning when she started to grind into him again.

She rode him like her life depended on it, and honestly, when an orgasm was on the horizon, it felt pretty on the nose. He watched her face as she succumbed to the continuous poking of the tip of his dick into her swollen nub. He coveted the way her legs tightened around him, imagining what it would feel like to be inside her when she cums.

That thought proved to be overwhelming and while she was coming down from her high, he followed right after her. Like waves crashing into a pier, his climax washed over him. White-hot heat rushed through his cock as it spilled his jizz inside his pants. Ivy, in all her glory, never stopped riding him as he came. Even as it became too much and he whimpered for her to stop, she only slowed down. She enjoyed it so much, watching him fall apart under her.

As a tear escaped his eye, she let up on her cruel punishment of his overworked length. She removed herself from his lap and crawled up the bed to take him in her arms. His breathing had calmed down and he laid his head against her chest, idly sucking on one nipple as he lay there. He looked up into her eyes and she smiled down at him, effortlessly putting him at ease. 

They stayed that way until Ransom started to squirm in her arms, surely not enjoying the way his cum was starting to dry against his skin. She cleaned him up in the bathroom, her mouth gaping open when she finally caught sight of the sheer size of his cock. If she was ever going to get to ride it, she would need a lot of prep. He put a hand over hers when she unconsciously began to pump his soft penis.

She thought he had been trying to get her to stop but was surprised when he only wanted to change the pace of her hand. He threw his head back when she tightened her fist and knelt in front of him. Watching her through heavy-lidded eyes, he babbled nonsense for a moment until his balls drew up and he shot milky ropes into her waiting mouth. His hands went to her shoulders and unsteady legs doing their best to hold him up after blowing his load twice.

He had heard of post-nut clarity, but he was experiencing something completely different. Perhaps akin to love, but not as deep. He watched as she swallowed, warmth spreading through his chest. Maybe he was wrong, feeling more and more entranced by Ivy with every second they spent together.

She fixed her dress and her lipstick, leaving the red smudges on his cock with a smile as she zipped him up. She took him further down the hall to a hidden stairwell that led into the kitchen. They had evaded any prying eyes from partygoers, making it seem like they had been in this room the whole time.

Famished from earlier activities, they munched on hors d’oeurves and made comfortable small talk. All earlier nervousness was a distant memory as they laughed and carried on like two lovesick teenagers.

Well, like one lovesick teenager and a grown-ass woman. At this point, age was nothing but a number. A number that neither of them cared about. They exchanged numbers, making a point to see one another again.

Eventually, they made it back into the party. Ivy made sure to say a lengthy farewell to Ransom’s parents, praising them for raising such a gentleman much to the shock of Richard and Linda, but they recovered gracefully. Shortly thereafter, the Drysdales made their exit.

During the car ride home, Richard joked that Ransom had a schoolboy crush on Ivy. ‘If they only knew,’ he thought to himself.

Over the rest of his winter break from college, Ransom spent more and more time with Ivy where she taught him tip after hint after trick about pleasing a woman. It was less out of the goodness of her heart and more about the kismet between them. She enjoyed his banter as much as his body. He loved coming to her place for a home-cooked meal and the company of a woman who thought the world of him.

When the winter break ended, Ransom spent his last night in town with Ivy. Of course, his parents showed barely any interest in the fact that he was leaving early or who he was spending his time with. In their eyes, he was not only an adult, but also no longer their problem. 

Ransom had hoped that finally, Ivy would let him make love to her. But she felt a strange sense of moral obligation when it came to him losing his virginity. As much as she wanted to be his first, she didn’t want him to get even more attached to her. She knew he was in love, and if she let herself follow him, it would not end pretty. Better to end their little doomed romance now, before either of them could get hurt.

Explaining all of this to him went better than she expected. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, jaw tightening as he looked away from Ivy. She counted to five before reaching a hand to his shoulder, surprised when his hand covered hers. 

Unshed tears shone in his eyes when he turned to look back at her again. Maintaining eye contact, he brought her hand to his lips to place a kiss on the back of her knuckles. He still relished the way her breath caught in her throat when he showered her with affection.

“No matter what happens, just remember this moment. It’s just us here, no one else. If this is the last moment we share, let’s make it worth it,” he pressed, praying for all the world that she would change her mind.

“Ransom, this isn’t exactly easy for me. I want you, please know that. But you deserve to have a relationship with someone. Perhaps, someone closer to your age. Someone with shared experiences. I would only be holding you back. That is my honest opinion,” she sniffed, continuing to reluctantly push him away.

“I won’t ever stop wanting you. You make me feel things I never thought were possible. I just wish I could give you a fraction of what you give me,” he lamented.

“Trust me, you have made an impact on my life. Who knows? Maybe one day down the line, we could get together and get a cup of coffee and laugh about this,” she hinted, hoping he would take her olive branch.

“I hope we can. I’m gonna hold you to it,” he beamed, a grin painting his features and replacing the sad look he once wore, “I should get going, I guess.”

“I’ll walk you out,” she said, standing and letting him lead the way. 

She wasn’t surprised at all when he kissed her neck while hugging her. Nor when he predictably trailed kisses over her jaw and up to her lips. But she couldn’t hold back her delight when he nibbled at her bottom lip and soothed away the sting with his tongue.

For a moment, when he leaned back from her, they just looked into each other’s eyes. Nothing was said because words were unnecessary at this point. Every moment, every kiss, every shared laugh was worth it to be able to share this last long gaze.

As soon as Ivy closed the door behind Ransom, she slumped to the floor and cried her eyes out.

That night, as he drove home from Ivy’s estate, Ransom shed tears all the way back to his dorm room. 

17 Years Later

Ransom is in town for a New Year’s Eve party thrown by his grandfather. He’s grown to loathe the damned holiday and it’s not a wonder why. He’s only there to make an appearance and swiftly leave before having to make awkward small talk with his parents. While sneaking into the kitchen to find the secret stash of cookies, he overhears a sound he hasn’t heard in so long but would recognize it anywhere.

He follows the source of the laughter and is astounded to see her standing and speaking to his grandfather. Entering the living room fully, he clears his throat and they both look at him. The look on Ivy’s face of pleased anticipation threw gasoline on a fire in his soul that he thought had long gone out.

“Ivy Kensington, I’d like to introduce you to my oldest grandson. Ransom Drysdale, meet Ivy,” Harlan remarks, not knowing that these two are very well-acquainted already. Harlan excuses himself, leaving them alone in the room.

“Ransom, I-”

“You look amazing,” he blurts, cutting her off before she can say anything.

They share a laugh, a moment of excitement and comfort between them. Staring into each other’s eyes told them everything they needed to know. 

And as the partygoers start to count down from 10, they realize they have been sitting in the living room for hours exchanging stories of the past and what they were up to now. The worries they had once upon a time were all gone. All that was left was the sliver of opportunity that wafted in the air once they shared a kiss.

The passion was there as if it was still so many years ago. As if Ransom didn’t have laugh lines or crow’s feet when he smiled. As if Ivy wasn’t sporting a few perfectly groomed grey hairs sprouting about in her curls. As if that final goodbye wasn’t all that final.

And that was as good a place as any to start.

A/N: OK so this was my first time writing Ransom and I made him kinda soft as puppy toes in most of this. I hope you enjoy it.

**Tag List**

@blackwood4stucky @peyton-warren

Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😁

#chris evans #chris evans characters #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x ofc #ransom drysdale x black!ofc #ransom drysdale x black ofc #ransom drysdale smut #chris evans smut #chris evans fanfiction #ransom drysdale fanfiction #chris evans fanfic #ransom drysdale fanfic #knives out #knives out au #oxytocin #ellethespaceunicorn fanfic

[supernovafics]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐃𝐘𝐍𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐘

pairing: ransom drysdale x fem!reader

summary: in which you thought you were done with him, but there was something about ransom that made it so hard to not give in to him

word count: 4k words

warnings: angst, slight fluff, explicit language, cheating, smut (minors dni!)

author’s note: first ransom fic i’ve written in a while. enjoy! (full folklore series masterlist here!)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

❝ they picked out a home and called it "holiday house." their parties were tasteful, if a little loud. the doctor had told him to settle down. it must have been her fault his heart gave out. and they said, ‘there goes the last great american dynasty.’ ❞

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Five minutes into the party and you were already desperate to leave. 

However, you knew that you couldn’t until you’d spoken to Rebekah at least once to prove to her that you had shown up to her party, which she had begged, or more like forced, you to come to. Also, the fact that you actually tried that night to look nice and somewhat match up with all of the rich people that were at the party made you push away the urge you had to leave as well. 

You were wearing a dark red floor-length dress that effectively matched the “old Hollywood” theme of the party, and you had tried the hardest you had in a while on your makeup and hair to make sure that it was absolutely perfect. 

A waiter came over to you, offering a flute of champagne, and you took it, grateful to have something to do with your hands and not look completely awkward and out of place. 

As you took small sips from your glass, you began walking around the large house, maneuvering around the many scattered about, in search of Rebekah. You had no idea what she was wearing, but given that this was her party, it was probably the most elaborate outfit out of everyone there. 

After five minutes of searching and grabbing a second glass of champagne because of how quickly you finished your first one, you didn’t find Rebekah, but you did notice the table of cupcakes that you had spent the last day baking. 

Those cupcakes were the main reason you finally accepted Rebekah’s invitation to the party. With all of the elaborate parties she would have, she was probably one of your best customers, and you couldn’t risk losing her business. And if that meant reluctantly showing up to a party, then so be it. 

You knew that out of everyone in the small Rhode Island town you lived in, you were the anomaly. Anyone and everyone craved invites to Rebekah’s parties. However, as much as you used to be like everyone else, and as much as you wanted to go back to that, the past six months completely changed things for you. Being at that party held too much uncertainty, and it made it way too easy to accidentally face things that you wanted to, needed to, avoid. 

You felt your phone vibrating from where it was inside your black purse that was hanging off of your shoulder. Using your free hand, you pulled out your phone, and the slight buzz you were feeling from your two glasses of champagne vanished immediately when you saw who you had just received a text message from. 

Ransom: You look good

You looked up and quickly scanned the crowd, trying to see if you could spot Ransom, mainly so you could make sure to walk in the exact opposite direction of where he was. However, it was the mix of the fact that there were so many people around and that the house was so big that made you unable to find him. You looked back down at your phone and began typing out a response. 

You: Don’t talk to me tonight 

You placed your phone back in your purse and ignored the vibration that you felt emit from it again, knowing that it was just Ransom texting you back. Although your message shouldn’t have warranted any type of response from him. 

A small sigh fell from your lips as you placed your now-empty champagne glass on a random table and began heading down a random hallway that was fairly empty. You had no idea what you were doing or where you were headed, but the end goal didn’t really matter to you. All you knew for certain was that you did not want Ransom to find you. 

There used to be a time when you would react happily at simply the thought of being near him, and a smile would never fail to grace your features. However, things were much, much different from how they used to be. 

When you first met him, it was in your bakery. He came in one random day asking about what cookies would be the best for his family that he hated but still wanted to somewhat impress. Something about the seriousness of his request made you laugh, but you were quick to tell him to get the chocolate chip cookies because they were the best ones you made, and although he hated his family, they would love him for bringing those cookies. 

He took a bite of one and immediately decided not to buy them because he said his family didn’t deserve something that good. Ultimately, he bought a lemon cake because he knew that at least two of his relatives were allergic to lemons. 

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that because I don’t want to become an accomplice to any murders that may or may not happen tonight,” You had said as you boxed up the cake, and Ransom smiled at you, promising not to get you in any trouble. 

The witty banter you two shared almost too quickly blossomed into something more with him when he kissed you as he walked you to your car on the fifth consecutive day that he had shown up at your shop, which led you to bring him back to your place for the night. 

Neither of you wanted something serious, and you were completely fine with the casualness of the “relationship” you found yourself in with him because you wanted to keep your focus mainly on your business. However, everything changed when, two months later, you found out he was married. 

He hadn’t been the one to tell you; which, if it had been up to him, he would have never allowed you to find out. Instead, it was Rebekah that technically told you. She had called you asking if you could put together an assortment of baked goods because she wanted to celebrate the one-year wedding anniversary for her daughter Nina. And when she told you the name of Nina’s husband, knowing there was no way that two men in that town could be named Ransom, you put two and two together almost instantaneously. 

When you saw him that night at your bakery right before it closed, he tried to enter, but the door was already locked. You glared harshly at him as you walked to the door but didn’t open up to let him inside. 

“I know you’re fucking married, you asshole,” You told him, voice loud enough so that he could hear you through the glass. 

His eyes widened a bit in shock when he heard your statement, knowing that you somehow found out the truth, but he quickly masked that surprise with a small shrug. “You and me are just having fun, so what does it matter?”

You rolled your eyes and didn’t give him any response as you simply walked away from the door and headed to the back to finish cleaning. 

That memory currently played back in your mind as you now somehow found yourself in a room that resembled a library with how many bookshelves were mounted against the walls. It was dark in the room aside from the bright moonlight shining in from the floor-to-ceiling windows. 

It was completely quiet in the room, and you could barely hear the chatter from the people that were in the main dining area. You savored the silence and used it to fully focus your thoughts on what you should do next since camping in an in-house library wasn’t the best or most logical idea. 

Now that you knew Ransom was here, that also definitely meant that Nina was here, which in turn meant that you needed to leave as soon as possible because you did not want to somehow run into her. Something about sharing niceties and random small talk with the wife of the man you slept with multiple times, none of which she knew about, made you want to throw up from how horrible you felt. 

There had been a small part of you that had wanted to tell her about what happened between you and Ransom when it had first ended, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to do so. You barely knew Nina, and even though you hadn’t known she and Ransom were married when things started between you and him, you couldn’t help but feel that somehow the blame of it all would still fall heavily on you. And then there was the fact that once Rebekah found out, she would probably never look at you the same. Yes, she was a great customer to you, but you saw her as a friend as well, and you didn’t want to lose that either. 

Instead, what you wanted the most was to forget that there had ever been a moment in time when you and Ransom meant anything to each other. It felt much easier to forget about the two months you spent with him– late nights full of laughs, smiles, and too good sex– rather than dwell on it, mainly on what the aftermath would be if either of you ever told anyone. 

“I meant what I said. You look really good tonight,” You heard an all-too familiar voice say from close behind you as a hand grazed your side, a warmth almost immediately spread through your body. 

It was hard to not let his words affect you because of how much you used to love hearing shit like that from him, but you swallowed back the familiar feelings of want starting to rise up. 

“Ransom,” You said as you moved away from his touch but refused to turn around and look at him. “Where’s Nina?” 

“Around,” You could practically hear the shrug in his voice. 

“I told you not to talk to me tonight, so you should go find her,” You said to him before starting to walk off, but Ransom grabbed your hand before you could get too far. 

“I’m perfectly fine here with you, sweetheart,” He said as his thumb began stroking your knuckles, and you hated how viscerally your body responded to the simple touch. 

You didn’t say anything, but the fact that you didn’t sharply pull your hand away from his said more than enough. 

“I know you’ve missed me,” Ransom whispered, moving closer to you and letting his mouth graze your ear. His hands found your waist and pulled you firmly back against him. “I’ve missed you too, sweetheart.”

You shut your eyes and tried hard to find the will to leave, but it just wasn’t there. Something was keeping you right there with him, and if you were being completely honest with yourself, you knew exactly what it was. 

All too quickly, he pulled away from you, and instead, he leaned back against the hardwood desk that was centered in the room. “Tell me what you want.” 

That was your chance to finally walk away and not let him stop you, and your mind was screaming at you to do just that. However, you only managed to take one step toward the shut door before you were finally turning around to look at him. 

Fucking hell, he looked good in the black suit he was wearing. And it was especially the bow tie that made you softly smile because, for some reason, you knew how much he hated bow ties, but in the few times you had seen him wear them you had always told him how good he looked in one. 

In a span of a few seconds, the time it took for you to walk up to Ransom, getting close enough so that you could drape your arms loosely around his neck, your brain accepted what your body and heart wanted right then. Tonight you would do this with him, and then tomorrow, you’d go right back to hating his guts and avoiding him like the plague that he was, and you’d maybe even have a twinge of regret circling in your stomach because of what you did.  

But, you would accept it. 

Maybe that idea was dumb, but as much as you hated to admit it, you really wanted him right then. 

“You know what I want,” You whispered, pressing your body against his and feeling the warmth radiating off of him. 

His hands found your hips squeezing softly. “I need you to tell me more than that, sweetheart.”

“I really hate you.”

He smirked. “I know.”

“But, even though I hate you, I also need you to fuck me right now,” You looked right into his blue eyes as you spoke, not letting your voice waver in the slightest. “With your fingers, or your cock, or both. I don’t care. Just give me something.”

Ransom’s lips quickly finding yours was his response. The kiss was harsh and rough, but it was exactly what you wanted right then. 

You let out a soft whimper when he pulled away so that he could switch positions and lift you onto the hardwood desk.

Ransom palmed at your left breast through the thin fabric of your dress, squeezing harshly. “If the circumstances were different right now, I’d be pulling this fucking dress off of you.”

The thought alone, of you being half-naked while he was still clad in his black suit and beautiful fucking bow tie, made you moan. “I really wish you could.”

He kissed you again before grabbing at the ends of your dress and beginning to push the fabric up. You planted your hands on the desk and pushed yourself upward a bit so that he could gather the fabric up at your hips and have your full pussy on display for him. 

“Fuck,” Ransom groaned when he slowly pulled down your underwear and noticed how wet you already were. “All this for me, sweetheart?”

You let out a barely audible “mhm” as his fingers moved to your pussy, not fully entering you yet, but gathering your slick and leisurely circling around your clit. Your eyes fell shut as you softly mewled at his actions. 

At your lack of a response, Ransom stopped his teasing ministrations and gave your thigh a squeeze. “I wanna hear you.”

“Yes, yes, I’m so wet for you, Ransom,” You told him and whimpered as you tried to squeeze your legs together so that you could feel something, but Ransom kept you spread open. “Please. More.”

He smirked at how desperate you were. “Good girl.”

His fingers finally moved to your entrance, and he pushed two inside of you, your wetness making it very easy to welcome him in. Your head fell back, and your eyes screwed shut as you let out a loud moan that you tried to stifle by covering your mouth with your hand. 

“God, you feel so good, sweetheart, squeezing around my fingers so tight,” Ransom whispered, loving how fucked out you already looked from just his fingers slowly moving in and out of you. “You’re gonna feel even tighter around my cock.”

You nodded quickly, biting your lip harshly to hold back the moan that was threatening to fall; you pushed the thought of someone being able to hear you and find you both in this very compromising position far out of your mind because of how much it scared you. 

Ransom added a third finger and pushed further into you, hitting the spot that made you see stars. 

“Fuck, right there, right there. Yes.” It was insanely hard to keep your voice down, so you reached out to pull Ransom closer to you and messily attached your lips to his, letting him swallow your needy moans as he continued fucking his fingers into you. 

His thumb found your clit, trying hard to bring you to the edge. He pulled his lips away from yours and softly pushed you down onto the desk so that your back, which was still covered by the thin material of your dress, was flesh with the cool wood. 

Ransom wanted to watch your body writhe and squirm as he said his next words to you. “Come for me, sweetheart. Be a good girl and come all over my fingers.”

The praise and soft term of endearment were enough to send you over the precipice. Your back arched sharply off of the desk when his fingers hit deep inside of you one, two, three times before you completely exploded. A strangled moan fell from your lips since you were covering your mouth to hold back the scream that you really wanted to let out. Ransom knew the exact things to do to turn you into a puddle of nothing but want and need. 

He continued fingering you through your orgasm, trying to prolong it as much as he could because he loved hearing the soft sounds that fell from your lips. But, after a few moments, he slowed his fingers down until they stopped completely when he heard your whines, and he didn’t want to overstimulate too intensely. However, there was a part of him that wanted to be that evil. 

Your eyes fell shut, and breaths came out heavy. You still felt a tad bit weightless and tingly from it all, and you honestly could not remember the last time you had an orgasm that intense from anyone other than the man standing in front of you. 

It was the familiar sound of a belt unbuckling and ripping of a condom wrapper that pulled you out of your hazy daze. 

You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching as Ransom pulled out his cock from where it had been straining against his boxers and suit pants and rolled the condom on it. You were already silently anticipating what would happen next. 

“This is the only time this will be happening,” You told him, still feeling a bit breathless from your intense orgasm. The timing of your statement did not feel the best, but you had to get it out. 

Ransom’s mouth quickly found your ear as he whispered. “That’s what you said last time.”

He was right. 

It had been a vulnerable and drunken night a month and a half ago that you had since convinced yourself to forget. You were slightly drunk off of half a bottle of wine, and you called Ransom and practically begged him to come over to your apartment and fuck you, which he did, not wasting a second to head over after hearing your soft and needy “pleases” over the phone. Your cheeks warmed in embarrassment from the memory.  

“Well, this time, I mean it,” You told him, although you weren’t entirely sure if that was true. 

“Okay, sweetheart,” Ransom nodded, accepting your words for the complete and utter lie that they were, before finally aligning himself at your entrance and pushing into you.

You both let out simultaneous sighs in contentment as you connected for the time in months. And you hated to admit it, but you had missed that feeling all too much. 

“Fuck, baby, you always take me so well,” Ransom said between his slow, deep thrusts. 

You nodded frantically, raising your hips up to meet his every harsh thrust as your hands found a home in his hair, lightly tugging at the small tuft at the nape of his neck. “I love how you feel inside of me, Ransom. So good. So fucking good.”

He groaned into your ear, the action sending a shiver down your spine and causing a smile to spread across your face. 

This was a moment that you wanted to live in forever. Mainly because of how pure and raw it was in comparison to all of the bad things that loomed around it. Your unrelenting thoughts about how horrific all of this was couldn’t invade that moment, and neither could the outside factors that were prominent at all other times. 

At that moment, you could pretend, and maybe even believe, that everything was actually all right. You and Ransom weren’t two people that had heavy baggage surrounding them. And instead, you were two people that were deeply enamored with each other, and it was completely okay that you were. 

However, that was the thing about dreams. You would always end up waking up to a harsher reality.

“Ransom, what the fuck,” You heard a voice practically scream out, and the slight familiarity of it made you want to die. 

You didn’t need to turn around to know exactly who was however many feet behind you. And the only part of her presence that surprised you at that moment was the fact that you were now learning that there was another door in the room.

“Nina,” Ransom breathed out, pulling out of you slowly and beginning to tuck his cock back in his pants. 

“You fucking scumbag! Fucking some random bitch at my mother’s party. God, I should’ve known something like this would happen. You’re a prick.”

A slew of more curse words, most of which were directed at Ransom, fell from Nina’s lips as you listened to it all, waiting until her fury was directed at you. You fought the urge to bury your face in Ransom’s chest as a way to ineffectively hide from everything. 

Your life would be over, maybe rightfully so, because you knew Ransom was married and you were still doing this, but you still didn’t want that to happen. You’d work way too hard to get where you were to let an affair with Ransom ruin everything. 

As if reading your mind, Ransom placed a soft hand on your lower thigh, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t turn around.” 

It shouldn’t have mattered to him if she saw you or not; he was already caught. But he still wanted to protect you because he knew what you had at stake to lose. Maybe he did actually care about you. 

“Leave as quickly as you can,” He whispered to you before stepping away from you and walking toward his wife. “Nina, honey, let’s talk about this.”

Unsurprisingly, Nina continued to yell at him, and you used that as your opening to stand up from the desk, slightly adjust your dress and walk out the door you had entered the room in. You didn’t look back once, although the curious part of you really wanted to. The next few moments felt as if your brain was running on autopilot. When you walked out of the room, you shut the door behind you and began opening every door within the hallway in search of a bathroom because you knew you couldn’t walk right back into a room full of people after what had just happened. 

Once you saw how you looked in the mirror– hair messy and dress more disheveled than you had expected– your eyes immediately watered, and you buried your face in your hands as you let the tears freely fall, not feeling strong enough to hold them back. 

The fact that all of this felt more like your fault than it did Ransom’s weighed heavily on you at that moment. Yes, he was the one that was married, and although you hadn’t been aware of that at first, now you were, and you still allowed yourself to fall back into him. 

There was something about the current situation you were in that made your heart wrench in your chest. Crying in the bathroom of a party that you hadn’t even wanted to come to because you had known, known, something bad was going to happen. Something about it all felt horribly sad and a little too cinematic. If there were a fade to black moment to happen right then, you could only hope that in the next scene, things looked at least somewhat better for you. Even though a part of you was unsure if you deserved that. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

❝ fifty years is a long time. holiday house sat quietly on that beach. free of women with madness, their men and bad habits. and then it was bought by me. ❞

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<33

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drydale x you #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale x fem!reader #ransom drysdale x ofc #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale fluff #knives out

[niffala]

I Quit (Pt. 3)

Warnings: Ransom being Ransom

A/N: Reader insert version found here. The Thrombeys’ opinions are NOT my own. Thoughts in italics. 18+ only due to smut and dubcon situations. No stealing, no reposts, no translations, no feeding to AIs. Comments, reblogs and likes are always welcome and appreciated.

Chapter 2  Series Masterlist     Main Masterlist

Chapter 3

It had been a few days since the Thrombey family dinner. Elizabeth welcomed the return to her mostly quiet routine. Grateful that those nights didn't usually happen more than once a month. The whole family seemed to have a flair for the dramatic and only interested in their own image. Hiding their misery behind luxury and fake smiles. How Harlan spawned such a bunch, she'd never know.

Elizabeth was sitting at the kitchen island, enjoying her drive-thru lunch. Because let's face it, she cooked for a living, and sometimes the greasy fast food hit the spot. An added bonus that it involved no work on her part. It's like they say, food tastes better when prepared by someone else. She found that all the more true on days she felt exhausted or moody. 

She nearly choked on her cheeseburger when an unknown figure appeared in her peripheral vision. The man strode past her without a glance, straight into the pantry. The sound of drawers opening and slamming shut seemed extra loud as the stranger rummaged around. An angry voice rang out, “Who moved the damn cookies?”

Who does this guy think he is destroying my kitchen?

Elizabeth firmly answered, “I did.”

The kitchen invader stepped out, seemingly surprised to see an unfamiliar face staring daggers at him. Although the apron clued him into her position here. “Where's the old broad?”

“I assume you mean my predecessor, she's retired. I'm Elizabeth. I’ve been working here for a few weeks now.” She pointed her chin behind the man, “The cookies are on the bottom left.”

Instead of returning to the pantry, he moved closer to her, “Elizabeth, that's a lovely name.”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, “I'll be sure to tell my mom you approve.” She recognized him now from the family portrait hanging in the parlor. “I assume you're Hugh.”

His face lit up, “Smart girl.” His eyes scanned her from head to foot, openly ogling her. “A pretty girl like you can call me Ransom, though.”

This time her eyes rolled without her permission. “Is that supposed to make me feel special?”

Ransom didn't answer. Instead he leaned over the island, snatching a french fry. He made a show of slowly bringing it to his mouth and eating it, daring her to say something. She wanted to slap it out of his greedy hand. Or maybe shove the whole lot down his throat. She wasn’t sure.

“Well, it's been fun, but I have to see my grandfather. I have an important matter to discuss with him.” He sucked the salt from his fingers. “Maybe I'll swing back after so we can chat. Get to know one another better.” He winked at her, walking out with a swagger and a smile.

What an ass.

Was he cute, absolutely. But Elizabeth was all too familiar with narcissistic jerkwads like him. Her school was full of them. She refused to let him get to her.

Fran had told her Ransom liked to show up whenever he felt like it, stir the pot, then slink off into the darkness after he had his fun. His family took the bait every time, so he delighted in causing them any amount of misery or aggravation he could. She also mentioned how he and his grandfather seemed to thrive in having a go at one another. Pissing the other off was their favorite pastime, but they loved each other dearly. The relationships in this family were beyond dysfunctional.

---------------

A few hours later, Ransom made his way back into the kitchen, intent on seducing Harlan's new chef. The old man put up a fight, but eventually caved in to his demands. He always did eventually. Too kind to let his first grandkid suffer through life and legal battles alone and without a new car. A few choice words, a few rounds of Go and he was putty in his hands. 

Now it was time to get something else he wanted. He paused, leaning against the doorframe, quietly observing the young chef while she chopped vegetables. She looked so innocent, so unbothered. Poor thing didn't know what she was in for.

It was quite sexy watching her work. Smiling to himself, Ransom closed in on her, wanting a better look. The shk shk shk of the blade hitting the cutting board didn't falter. It was a bit hypnotic, her expert hands made it look so easy. He wondered what else she could do with those hands. Promising himself he’d find out.

“You'd look better with your hair down.”

Elizabeth didn't bother looking up at the attractive nuisance. He was so close that whatever expensive cologne he wore filled her nostrils, distracting her. “That's not a good idea while I'm cooking.”

“So grouchy,” Ransom pouted. “You should be nice, smile more. I'm sure you have a beautiful smile.” She turned her head to glare at him. That was not the reaction he wanted. What would it take to get her to play? “You realize one word from me and my grandfather will fire you?”

“Do YOU realize I'm holding a big ass knife?” She waved the blade for emphasis. 

Ransom held his hands up in surrender, backing away dramatically. “Take it easy there, Killer. I was just being friendly. It wouldn't hurt ya to do the same. You might actually enjoy it.” The shit eating grin remained plastered on his face as he exited.

No, but it very well might kill you, asshole. Not wanting to lose her position, Elizabeth smartly chose to not speak that part out loud. Just in case.

A breath she didn’t realize she was holding released upon hearing the front door slam. He was gone. She got back to the task at hand, but would be lying if she said her mind didn’t start to wander.

Damn he smelled good.

Chapter 4 (Coming Soon)

#niffala fics #ransom drysdale angst #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale x ofc

[lingerasthesmokeoncedid]

You Taste Like Birthdays

A Ransom Drysdale x OC Fanfic

Ransom Drysdale's great love story - told in seven part(ie)s.

“You’re like a big parade through town. You leave such a mess, but you’re so fun." -Regina Spektor

Ransom Drysdale was always called a party boy. That’s what they said in the society papers. That’s what all the shameless gossips claimed.

And as far as he was concerned, he was a Party Boy. Just not in the way they meant it.

He was a Party Boy in the same way that Harlan was a family man – he had one, but he didn’t particularly enjoy it.

He wasn’t a party boy because he loved them or because he preferred getting blackout drunk to anything else.

He was a party boy because that was the only time he got to see her.

PARTY #1: DEBUTANTE BALL

The first time she properly spoke to Ransom Drysdale, he was slipping two crisp 100 dollar bills into the breast pocket of a suit that cost more than her life. This wasn’t the first time she’d seen him, of course, and not even the first time she’d met him either. Her family ran in the same circles as his family, which meant that every birthday, New Year, Fourth of July, goddamn Arbor Day or White Day at the Country Club, their orbits collided.

Despite being the same age, though, she was slightly (embarrassingly, if her mother’s repeated attempts to put her on diets and force her into a wardrobe of shapewear and all black was any indication) north of Rubenesque, bookish, introverted, deeply insecure, and too smart for her age. More likely to find herself sipping tea with Harlan Thrombey than sneaking glasses from the wet bar with his grandson. Not Ransom’s type – even at sixteen. Not even worth his notice, not with so many devastating beauties buzzing around. 

And yet, on the night of her own debutante ball, when she abandoned the crowded dancefloor to lock herself in the butler’s pantry with a slice of cake and a good book, he found her.

Found her when no one else seemed to notice she was missing.

When their eyes met across that dark space, she couldn’t help but feel as she never had before.

Special.

But she hadn’t spent her entire childhood hiding from her father’s heavy-handed wrath and her mother’s Valium-tinged disappointment between the pages of books for nothing. She was smart. Smarter than Ransom Drysdale gave her credit for.

“Isn’t this my lucky day?” He asked, as he swanned through the door and closed it behind him. “The lady of the hour. Waiting for me in all her…glory.”

He lifted one eyebrow and smirked, clearly ready to relish whatever feminine attention he felt she was about to lay on him. And to be fair, there was a part of her that wanted to pretend. How fairytale perfect would it be if Ransom Drysdale – the Ransom Drysdale – had chosen her? If, after a lifetime of being ignored and passed over, she’d been noticed? If he’d seen her in the heat of the spotlight, in her debutante finest, and fallen madly, madly in love?

It would have been perfect. A dream come true. But to even pretend it was a possibility was very, very stupid.

Raking her eyes lazily over his handsome form (made even handsomer by a custom tuxedo), she flipped a page in her book, hoping she projected all of the detached cool girl energy she felt.

“What did they give you?”

Ransome made a noise – something between a laugh and a choke. She didn’t look up. He was too charming and tempting. If she gave him too much attention, she’d be lost. A human eclipse.

“What?”

“Ransom, we’ve known each other since we were six years old. You’ve never even said hello to me without someone making you. Please. Give me some credit here.”

He breezed past her objection. “You looked incredible out there, you know. When you disappeared, I thought I’d come and find you. The best looking guy should always get to dance with the best looking girl.”

Yes, he must have thought her a special kind of moron. Or maybe he was just used to girls falling at his feet. On a good day, she was way below the young models and cheerleader types who typically occupied his time. But in this ludicrous white gown her mother selected, slathered in too much makeup, and crumbled over a book in a butler’s pantry…she knew the money was the only explanation.

“Yeah, and I’m sure that 200 bucks you just shoved in your pocket just now had nothing to do with it.”

Her unexpected guest didn’t have an answer for that. Despite everything, she smiled. She’d shut up Ransom Drysdale? That was way better than any gift she’d get tonight.

“Alright,” he finally muttered. “You caught me.”

No apology. No shame, even.

“Was it really so ridiculous, though? That I would want to dance with you? Do you have some kind of inferiority complex or something?”

“Or something,” she muttered, not wanting to read into the fact that he didn’t seem to think it was so ridiculous.

Silence, then. Beyond the pantry walls, the party raged on. No one missed the guest of honor. No one even cared enough to realize she was gone. None of them were here for her, after all. Every invitation tonight had gone to her parents’ friends and associates, not hers – though she wouldn’t have had any friends to invite, even if she could.

Was it any wonder she’d rather believe the handsome party boy was only there because someone paid him?

“That’s bleak.”

“That’s realistic,” she countered, turning a page. “No, what’s the objective here? They slide you a cool two hundred and you sweet talk me back to the party?”

Over the lip of her book, she watched the vague outline of Ransom’s cut figure go slack as he leaned against a nearby wall.

“No, actually. My grandfather likes you. He saw you leave and sent me after you. He felt bad. Your own damn party and no one wanted to talk to you.”

That stung. She liked Harlan Thrombey, too. His pity was even worse than Ransom’s condescension.

“Funny,” she managed after a moment.

“What is?” he replied.

Well, the fact that you’re still here, she considered saying.

“It’s funny that he thinks they didn’t want to talk to me. I’m not locked up in here because I’m some sad and lonely little princess. It’s because this is a good book, that is an awful party, and those people in there? I don’t want to talk to them.”

He said nothing. She slammed her book closed, surprised by her own intensity, but unable to hold back.

“I mean, can you blame me?” She asked. “Those people…they’re awful. All of them.”

Her body tensed. Shit. She shouldn’t have said that. His parents were at that party. His grandfather. He’d even been at that party until just a moment ago.

She didn’t regret feeling that way. But she did regret saying it out loud. Especially to the most powerful guy she knew.

“You know, I do think I would have come after you,” he said, the words a soft marvel on his tongue. “If my grandfather hadn’t asked me to, I mean. I would have found you.”

“C’mon, Ransom. Haven’t you lied enough tonight? You’re better than that.”

When she raised her eyes, she found Ransom affixing an abrupt stare squarely on her. All words died in her mouth.

He tilted his perfect chin, assessing her with new curiosity. He silently posed a thousand questions, apparently found the answers written in her face, and seemed to come to some internal conclusion.

 “Let’s go,” he said.

It wasn’t a request. But it wasn’t a command either. She wouldn’t have answered a command. It was more like a call to adventure.

“What?” She asked.

He pulled at the twist of his bowtie. “You said you hate these people, right? You want to get away? Let’s fucking go.”

Skepticism attempted to hold her back even as she rose to unsteady high-heeled feet. “Where?”

He slipped off his jacket, fumbling in the pockets as he did so. “Wherever we want to. Here.”

In one smooth gesture, he offered her something. Her heart briefly swelled. He was going to give her the money.

Only, what landed her in hand wasn’t cash. It was a heavy metal key. A car key.

“I’ve already had a few drinks, so you’ll have to drive.”

He didn’t exactly seem like the safety first kind of driver. She tried to hand the keys back.

“I don’t know how. My mom thinks learning to drive is as good as admitting we’re poor. People will think dad can’t afford a chauffeur.”

She’d always wanted to learn, though. Any tiny scraps of independence she could snap up would help her eventually escape her hell-clutch of a family. But she’d never gotten the chance and considering it was easier if her family ignored her existence, she wasn’t exactly going to sneak out to do it. Ransom smirked and slipped his arm around her waist with the effortless grace that came so easily to all devastatingly handsome men.

She suppressed a shudder at his touch. He was only doing it to lead her away. That was all. Companionable at best. Not romantic.

“I know you don’t drive. That’s why I hope you’re a fast learner.”

It was the first time in her life she’d left her parents without permission. She’d planned her escape from them since she was twelve years old, and she’d taken notes from the heroines of her favorite novels. She would stay quiet, she would build a rich inner life, she would develop skills (skills marketable enough to land her a job in the future that but not draw attention or suspicion) and, above all, never step out of line.

Breaking the rules drew attention and detangling herself from her family’s wealth and influence and cruelties and pretensions required as little of that as possible, thank you very much.

So, really, she knew better than to go everywhere with Ransom Drysdale, much less leave her own debutante ball with him. And she knew better than to read into his late-night driving lesson or their harebrained escape.

Still. She went. He was the most fun she’d ever had in her life.

The next morning, a paramedic’s pen light woke her in the still-smoking cab of Ransom’s car. The donuts he’d bought her (her mother had her on a perpetual diet, so he’d bought them and called it a birthday present) were crushed in her lap. The magnum of champagne they’d swiped from the party still sloshed around in the back seat. Apparently, she hadn’t been a fast learner.

When the paramedics tried to move her from the car, they found that they couldn’t. Because Ransom, only half-conscious in the passenger’s seat, wouldn’t let go of her hand.

In that moment, when they tore her away and unwound the borrowed scarf from her neck, she knew she’d made a mistake. But she didn’t care.

PARTY #2 – 21ST BIRTHDAY

In light of their near-miss with death, she hadn’t gotten the chance to get Ransom’s phone number. And once she’d gotten discharged from the hospital, her family kept her under fairy tale villain levels of lock and key.

(She suspected the only reason she didn’t get shipped off to boarding school after her “little stunt” was because the only boarding school prestigious enough was currently home to her escape artist partner, Mr. Ransom Drysdale himself).

As such, she couldn’t get in touch with him. Her mother had allowed her to return his scarf back through a courier service despite her insistence that Ransom had given it to her and was, therefore, hers to keep. But beyond that, she never spoke to him, and he appeared to make no effort to reach out to her.

Which was fine. She was under no illusions that Ransom Drysdale had fallen for her or that their midnight joyride had changed anything. She didn’t think his attempt to kiss her – a near-miss that caused her to lose control of the car in the first place – said anything about their relationship except that he was a little sappy and handsy when drunk.

Just because she got flushed and starry-eyed when she remembered it didn’t guarantee that he remembered it at all.

No, as the days passed after debut, she resolved herself, quite practically, to the understanding that he would, most likely, go right back to ignoring her at every party. Their one night together was nothing more than a fluke. A memory to her and a fuzzy, half-forgotten mistake to him.

She believed that. She gave herself permission to accept it. But then, Ransom Drysdale did something no one ever did.

He surprised her.

After four months of solitary confinement, her parents allowed her out to a party again. And there he was, waiting for her. And from then on out, their lives passed in parties. At the dances and balls where they’d once been practically strangers, she found strong arms and nauseatingly handsome smirks pulling her into corners and closets. They snuck wine bottles and got tipsy and shared hatreds and gossip. They ordered pizza to the back door and “accidentally” bluetoothed raunchy rap music through the speakers during toasts. He confided in her secrets about his family. Told her about a story he'd been working on – just a short, nothing special. On the night she got into MIT, she showed him the acceptance letter – he was the first one to know.

It was something like friendship, these secret hours they stole from under the snobbily upturned noses of their families and acquaintances.

So, when at Tilly Potter’s 21st gala ball, she passingly mentioned her own plans to celebrate her official freedom from her family (a freedom she planned to use the following day by spending all of the money she’d saved at her IT desk job on a tiny shitbox apartment near campus) by ordering takeout and watching old movies in the comfort of her bedroom, it surprised her – but did not shock her – that Ransom intervened.

“That’s the saddest shit I’ve ever heard,” he barked, stern and disbelieving. “I’m sick even thinking about it. No. Absolutely not.”

“Rude—”

“Don’t thank me. I’ve been saving you from your own shitty parties since you were sixteen. I’m used to it by now.”

And that’s how it went. On the night of her 21st birthday, her parents held an exclusive (code word for small) dinner party at their house. After the incident at her debutante ball all those years ago, they hadn’t ever again trusted her not to embarrass them publicly, so that was all she had. Small, exclusive, intimate dinners where they sandwiched her between them, monitored her conversations for any inelegant slip-ups, and did their best to keep her away from “That Drysdale Boy.”

They couldn’t keep her under lock and key at the parties other people threw and that they were required by every social law to attend. They were powerless to not invite the Thrombeys. But dammit, they would do their best to keep her from his influence under their own damn roof.

Unfortunately, they overlooked one small problem. Ransom was a tricky son of a bitch.

When the party was over and the birthday girl retired to her bedroom, she opened the door to find a message written in lipstick along one of her many windows.

BACK DOOR – 10 MINUTES – CHANGE.

Ransom hadn’t done anything to prepare her for this night – it was a surprise in nearly every respect – but given everything she knew about him (plus the underline beneath the word change), she had a feeling night clubs and birthday shots and strobe lights and dancing were in her future.

Which, to be clear, she dreaded. She hated night clubs and loathed the idea of wasting her birthday watching hungry-eyed girls making passes at Ransom all night.

But still, she slipped on her sexiest dress (not a huge compliment, honestly, considering the state of her wardrobe) and a pair of heels before giving her makeup a smokey-eyed zhush and retreating downstairs to the safety of his idling car.

She knew she was a fool for it. They were basically friends of proximity and convenience and necessity. But no matter how she loathed the thought of insecurely sweating a drunken night away at whatever exclusive, Fort Knox guest list hot spot Ransom had picked out, she knew she couldn’t turn it down. Not when it meant another night close to him. Not when he’d done it all for her.

He sped – he always sped, terrible driving teacher that he was – towards town with the top down, blaring some music she loved. Was it a coincidence? Or did he remember her mentioning the band?

She didn’t know and maybe she didn’t care to know. It was better, on her 21st birthday and under the perfectly starlit sky and Ransom’s hand so close to hers on the clutch and his scarf around her neck for warmth and her favorite song lodged in her throat and her throbbing eardrums, to believe that he’d chosen it for her.

They didn’t talk. They didn’t have to. And with the wind and the music and the engine and the traffic and her heartbeat, they couldn’t have heard each other even if they wanted to.

By the time the car screeched to a curb-choked halt in front of TLJ, Boston’s hippest night spot, though, all of the silver moonlight-tinted glow vaporized under the head of the neon and jealous girls’ stares.

She twisted her hands in her lap, suddenly feeling very silly. She was a chubby nobody in a dress a half-size too small and lipstick a specific shade of power red. If she believed she meant anything to Ransom, if this romantic birthday jailbreak had made her believe something might finally be happening between them, it all vanished in that moment. He was Ransom Drysdale – he’d used her birthday as an excuse to get fucked and fucked up. She would never measure up to the line of women in the queue, hungry for his attention.

She didn’t belong here.

And what was worse, just having him this way – part way, just a piece – was no longer enough for her. It was pathetic.

Ransom dropped the keys in the valet’s hands, completely oblivious until he opened the club’s door and discovered her was holding it open for no one. Wordlessly communicating with the bouncer and ignoring the stares from anyone on the street, Ransom jogged back.

“What the Hell’s wrong with you?” He asked, his tone that tenuous mixture of good-natured and condescending that only he could pull off without offending her.

She glanced up at the club, then down to his scarf around her neck. He always loaned it to her when they played getaway car in the Beamer – she got cold.

But it wouldn’t be appropriate now. Not inside a nightclub on her 21st birthday. She began to unwind it – her hands where shaking.

“Sorry – It’s fine. It’s just—”

Her trembling fingers were suddenly wrapped up my strong, masculine ones, stilling her attempts to unknot his scarf. “Hey. Just – just wait here.”

“What?”

“Wait here.”

Confused, she followed the directive and wrapped herself up again. He was gone so long people in line snapped pictures of her, alone in the car. So long her fingertips started to lose sensation in the cold. So long she resigned herself to the fact that he’d left her in the car to enjoy the party by himself.

But then, just as she contemplated sliding into the driver’s seat and speeding the car away without him, the Beamer’s door swung open. Ransom slipped inside with a case of champagne, which he balanced on the center console between them.

“Ransom—” she started.

“Stupid party anyway. Let’s go.”

And with that, he rocked the keys in the ignition, peeling off into the night in a haze of smoking rubber and engine fumes.   She tried to speak, to apologize, to ask questions, anything, but he merely turned the volume up on the car’s speaker system – louder and louder – louder. 

His jaw was locked too tight to have spoken anyway.

She wondered what that meant. Sometimes, Ransom got so angry she wondered about his heart – if he didn’t find a way to manage it soon, she thought, it was likely to give out one of these days. But while he always claimed his anger was about one of two things – money or his family – she knew better. There was always a third option. He might have been angry at himself.

Was this one of those times? And if it was…why?

When the car finally stopped again, she felt her entire body flood with light. Not silver moonlight, not like last time. This was all gold.

The historic movie theatre on a back street of Boston had been built in 1917, and despite the fact that no one really went there anymore, it was one of her favorite places on Earth. The movies had always been one of those sacred places that her parents hated, but that they considered safe enough for her to enjoy alone. All her life, the movies had been her escape, her refuge. A place in the cool dark where nothing mattered – not her name, not her family, not her past.  

When they entered the one-room movie house that night, still done up in that plush Art Deco style, she found the entire place empty. The candy counter was abandoned. The Coke machine unmanned. The popcorn piping hot, but unattended.

Strange. The cinema wasn’t the most popular spot in town, but she’d never seen it this Ghost Town empty…

“What’s going on—”

Ransom helped himself to snacks. “I told you. That club was shit. I know the guy here, and I’ve never seen Double Indemnity, so…”

He’d planned a party for her at that club. And then totally changed his plans when he got there and saw for himself how much she would have hated it. Party Boy Ransom Drysdale abandoned all of the leggy blondes and blow and whiskey to sit here in a dark movie theatre with her.

It didn’t mean anything. It didn’t mean anything.

To him. But it meant everything to her.

She didn’t kiss him then. His eyes were wide and sincere and hesitant and his lips trembled from the effort it apparently took him to be honest with her. If she’d been any kind of brave or if she had any kind of faith in herself, or believed he said, she would have crawled on to the candy counter, pulled him between her legs, and kissed him as she’d wanted to do since she was sixteen.

But she didn’t. Not until she was a bottle and a half of champagne deep and bold enough to slur, “Ransom, why did you do this? This…” She hiccupped and gestured to the cinema around them and the movie flickering before them. “This isn’t you.”

She wanted him to say because I love you. Instead, he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and glanced down at her lips. His permanent mask of privileged indifference and smugness slipped – just for a second. But a second was all it took for her to see it.

“Because…you would have hated that club. It wasn’t what you wanted. And I just think you and I have wasted too much time not getting what we want.”

And then…she blacked out.

Did they kiss? Did she try? Did he push her away? Did she ask him what he wanted? Did she dare hope she was the answer?

She never fucking knew because all she remembered was him saying it and then waking up the next morning in her little apartment near campus.

Someone had brushed her hair and her teeth. Someone had pulled her out of her dress and tucked her into bed wearing a fuzzy pair of socks and her slip. Someone had left salt tablets, ibuprofen, water, and Pedialyte on her bedside table.

Someone had left an entire box of pizza in her fridge – from her favorite joint down the street, and with extra toppings, just the way she liked.

Someone had left a birthday card on her kitchen table – signed with nothing more than a hesitant “R.”

Someone had shown her more of himself last night than he’d ever shown anyone before.

And not only did she not remember a damn thing about it, but she was pretty sure she hadn’t even gotten to kiss him.

PARTY #3 – FUNERAL

Her 21st birthday sort of hit pause on their – friendship? Acquaintance? – whatever it was for awhile. They still spent their family obligations together. That didn’t change. But he didn’t spend as much time with her there. Or as freely. And the friendship they’d been building over the years suddenly vanished. She hated it and hated that she hated it and hated herself for thinking they would ever be anything else but convenient friends.

But then her parents died. Plane crash. She told them commercial jets were safer, that a private plane was a very expensive death trap, that she wouldn’t cry at their funeral if some half-awake alcoholic of a pilot killed them both someday –

But then…it happened. And she did cry. And there, as she shivered in the middle of the lavish funeral they’d planned years ago (her mother – always the perfectionist, always the planner), big strong hands wrapped a scarf around her neck, and then tucked her into his arms.

Ransom.

He held her hand the entire day. And the next. And the next.

When she finally resurfaced from her suffocating grief at losing two people who’d made her so angry and so lonely and so suddenly rich – he was the first thing she saw.

“I hated them,” she choked against his tear-stained sweater.

“Yeah,” he breathed, rubbing her back with uneasy, unpracticed strokes.

“I always thought my life would be so much easier if they weren’t around. At least then I wouldn’t have to tell people that my own family didn’t love me.”

“I understand.”

“And I miss them. I still miss them. Is that crazy?”

She knew how he felt about his family. If anyone could slap some sense into her, save her from this growing black hole in the center of her chest, it was Ransom.

Instead, he tucked her head beneath his chin.

“No. It’s not crazy. Or, if you are, then so am I.”

That didn’t exactly rule out the possibility. But when she laughed and looked up at him through eyes full of hazy tears, she smiled.

And from that moment on, it was as if their time apart hadn’t happened. It was as if, for the first time in a long time, maybe for the first time ever, she was home.

PARTY #4 – VALENTINE’S DAY

It took Ransom longer than most people to get the hang of the whole “being friends” thing. He didn’t let himself get close to people. He didn’t know how to be vulnerable. And as far as she could tell, he didn’t have any nurturing instincts. Cunning instincts? Yes. Business instincts. Sure. Sexual instincts? So she’d heard.

But nurturing? That wasn’t really his thing.

Strange, then, that he managed it. In the months after her parents’ death, she was so absorbed by mourning and sorting out their affairs that the general human stuff like eating and sleeping and showering and getting fresh air became extremely low priorities.

So, Ransom picked up the slack. Took her for top-down drives in the Beamer for groceries (frehs air? Sunshine? Check). He brought her leftovers from the cooking intensives he was taking with Harlan for book research and practiced his new skills at home (steady nutrition? Check). He would run the hot water for a bath, have to “take a call,” and insist she bathe so that they didn’t waste the water. He’d even taken to telling her that her house was creepy and he needed to sleep and, besides, he wasn’t used to sleeping alone (a lie – he always left a woman in bed before he got tired, but the lie got this particular woman into bed and at least six hours’ sleep every night).

It saved them both their prides, these little discrete deceptions of his. He didn’t know how to love. She didn’t know how to be loved. He pretended he was just accidentally helping her – going about his normal routine and just so happening to benefit her. And she accepted as long as she believed that lie.

But deep down, she knew the truth. Ransom didn’t have nurturing instincts. But he did have survival instincts.

And in the season of her life when she most felt like dying, that was more than enough.

She could hardly believe it, then, when she resurfaced from a long night preparing job applications – even if she wasn’t going to leave Boston like she’d always planned, she was not going to play happy homemaker with her parents’ money, thank you; all of that was going to be donated as soon as the banks finally put the funds in her name – to find the house empty and Ransom gone.

In his room, forgotten on his bed, was a crumpled invitation and instruction sheet.

It seemed that Ransom Drysdale had run away to take part in a charity bachelor auction.

A strange feeling cut through her months of grief and lethargy.

It wasn’t quite jealousy. She’d felt enough of that for Ransom over the years, and she knew precisely what that felt like. This was something different, something even more unsettling.

Concern. She was concerned for him.

Well, that just wouldn’t do.

“250,000.”

In one of Boston’s finest ballrooms, the chic audience first gasped, then cheered as she ran through the back door and screamed her bid.

Waves of pouting rage rolled off of her fellow bidders. But Ransom’s eyes glinted as he followed the protocol of offering her arm and placing a gentle kiss on her cheek.

“You found the invitation then?” He asked. “You went snooping in my room?”

She bit the inside of her cheek. Something about his tone didn’t sit right with her. “I wasn’t snooping. I wasn’t looking for the invitation, either. I was looking for you.”

A muscle in his jaw flexed, but he said nothing until their photographs were taken for the local society pages.

As the highest bidder of the evening, the hotel graciously made a donation of their own and gifted her the use of a suite for the night – not for sex, she assumed, but just as a token of gratitude. She and Ransom retreated there almost immediately. Coming to this party had been a hasty decision, as had been her bid on him. She hadn’t exactly accounted for the reactions and gossip and questions it would stoke amongst their peers, so they decided to make that tomorrow’s problem and disappear.

Once up there, though –

She barely made it through the door before he was on her. Pinning her arms over her head, he hungrily attacked her bare neck, grinding his body against hers with a ferocity she so desperately wanted to be real.

“What the Hell are you doing, Ransom?”

His lips temporarily moved from her skin, but he stayed so close she could still sense the way they shifted into a smirk. “Showing you what I’m worth.”

He pressed his lips into the curve of her neck, and it took everything in her not to melt. How many times had she fantasized about this exact moment. Wanted this very thing?

But it was like a photonegative of a dream – technically, everything was there…but wrong.

“Ransom.”

“This was what you wanted, right? Bought and paid for. I’m all yours.”

“Hey—Hey—”

“I thought we had a good thing going. Uncomplicated. But what do I know? I guess you can put a price on me and it’s a quarter of a million bucks—”

“Ransom, Stop!”

His hand froze at the top of her thigh. His lips above hers. A cloud cleared from his eyes, then returned. There he was again – that Ransom she’d spent most of her life trying to push aside. The cold, smug, unfeeling asshole millionaire failson.

"Right. You really should be calling the shots here. Get your money’s worth. Please. Tell me what I owe you.”

A wave of disgust rolled over her. He really thought so low of her? That he was just like his family – always putting a price on their affection? That he was nothing but a dollar sign to her?

“That’s not why I did this,” she muttered, unable to strengthen her voice any louder. Her body still radiated from his touch. “I did this because I know you hate this stuff and I wanted to… I don’t know. You’ve been rescuing me a lot lately. I thought maybe I could rescue you, too.”

He recoiled. “You – That was a stupid amount of money for that.”

“Avoiding this kind of stuff is important to you, and –” She paused. They didn’t ever talk about their feelings for each other, good, bad, or indifferent. But fuck it. “And you’re important to me.”

Ransom suddenly couldn’t meet her gaze. He slipped out of his jacket and hung it up in the closet, apparently in some attempt to regain his composure. “Yeah. Well. You’re. You’re important to me, too.”

An hour later, they ate a trough of room service food in bed. Fluffy hotel robes on. Gowns and tuxes off. Crappy television noise filling the air between them.

She hadn’t realized she’d dozed off onto his shoulder. Or that she’d even dozed off. Until –

“Hey.”

He shifted his shoulder but did not remove her. She swam back to awareness. “Mm-hm?”

“I didn’t meant it, what I said earlier about us being uncomplicated. We’re…we’re plenty complicated. You’re good. The only good thing in my life. I think I was afraid…I guess I thought I’d lost that tonight.”

It was as close to an apology as she’d ever get. And she still didn’t know what it meant.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” he muttered. “Just…I owe you one.”

Exhausted or not, she did understand that. “We don’t owe each other anything. That’s just how this works.”

She didn’t care to give this a name. (Love). Nor did she say anything else. But as she drifted back to sleep, she did feel him tuck her closer into his body and lay her down in the crook of his warm frame.

PARTY #5 – THE BOOK LAUNCH

After that night, they both got their shit together. She got a job in Boston. Sold her family’s estate. Got an apartment. She asked her doctor about sleeping pills—it was hard to rest without Ransom, who’d moved out and gotten his own place now that she was functioning like a normal person again. She started going to dance classes. She took up breadmaking in her spare time. Started a terrace garden. Even picked up a library card.

After a little pressure, Ransom asked his grandfather if he might have any openings at the publishing house. He started tinkering with ideas for a murder mystery himself. He, too, moved into a new place and, now unused to seeing himself in the society pages, decided he liked it better that way.

Every morning, she walked to her favorite coffee shop on her way to work. And every morning, he met her in line, bought them both breakfast, and then parted ways.

Dinners for two were just easier to make than dinners for one, so they often ate together.

They liked the same movies, and no one wants to go the movies alone, so they often visited her favorite cinema together.

And bars. And parks. And weekend trips to the Martha’s Vineyard. And the library. And family dinners. And brunch. And concert. And the theatre. And the occasional Red Sox game.

But they were absolutely, categorically, unequivocally not dating. There were no kisses or handholding or anything resembling physical intimacy, and the same rules about emotional intimacy applied. Namely – none, ever.

But all the same, when Ransom’s grandfather launched a new book series and threw a party in his own honor, it was essentially a given that she would go with him.

Upon her arrival, though, she couldn’t find her date. For awhile, she was content to sip champagne and stuff her face with canapes while making small talk, but when she’d drained her glass and realized her other standard party friend – Harlan Thrombey himself – was nowhere to be found, she keyed in the security code for the elevator, left the atrium party behind, and headed straight for the offices.

It was strange, she admitted, to think of Ransom as hard-working. That he’d now rather be at work than at a party. But she wasn’t surprised when the elevator doors to the publishing house’s main floor opened and she heard his and his grandfather’s voices. What did surprise her was the realization that they weren’t talking about work at all.

“You’re crazy, old man.”

“Perhaps. But a crazy old man can be right about something every once in awhile. Broken clock and all that.”

“I’m not having this conversation. You have a party waiting downstairs for you and a press to schmooze. And I have whiskey to drink. I ordered the good stuff and I don’t want Walt guzzling it all. He won’t appreciate it—"

“And your date? You must have your date worrying after you. You did invite someone, didn’t you?”

That hung in the air. Harlan must have known that Ransom had invited her.

“She’s an easy choice,” Ransom sniffed, dismissively. “Don’t read too much into it.”

“If she’s such an easy choice, then why won’t you take me up on my offer?”

…Offer? Her heart clenched.

“I said I would consider it,” Ransom replied.  

“Ransom, I like her. I always have. She’s good for you. And what’s more, I think you’re good for her, too.”

“You say that as if it means anything.”

“It means – it can mean everything.”

She held her breath. Her knuckles tightened around the champagne flutes so hard she feared they might shatter. But still, she listened.

“Pops, I don’t do the emotional attachment bullshit. You want me to be a better man? Don’t chain some poor woman to me. Build a time machine and raise your kids better. Might give me a fighting chance at being halfway decent.”

“Ah, but there’s the rub. You say you don’t do emotional attachments. But if that’s true, then what do you call all these years since you first met? What do you call this last year since her parents died, come to think of it? You can deny it all you want. The evidence is clear. A rose by any other name. Love by any other name. You—”

It was the wrong moment to lean forward. She hadn’t been able to help it. But it gave her away, creaking a floorboard and drawing Harlan’s attention.

“Ah, my dear. Come to fetch us, have you?”

She raised the glasses in her hand, fighting to keep her expression neutral when all she really wanted to do was cry – or laugh – or both. “Actually, I came to join this party. Seems a lot more fun than the one downstairs.”

Ransom’s gaze burned into her until she turned to face him, at which point he slapped on one of those wincingly fake smiles he usually only reserved for the most awkward of cocktail chatter. “Well. This is a pretty exclusive party. I don’t think you’re on the guest list. We should head downstairs.”

It was a brush-off, but she gratefully accepted his diversion.

She couldn’t…

It wasn’t…

He…

She wasn’t drunk enough yet to face what she’d just learned from listening at this particular keyhole. That Ransom might have loved her. And that Harlan believed in that love.

“Very well, then,” Harlan said, a note of disappointment in his voice. “Ransom, do think about my offer, will you?”

“Not on your life, old man.”

Later, in the thick of the party, she and Ransom accidentally stoke a private moment. It was clear he’d been trying to avoid just this scenario all night – looping them into every peripheral conversation they could find, filling his mouth and hers with every passed appetizer that crossed their path – but she’d finally caught him in a corner.

“So, that whole thing with your grandfather?” She finally asked, her voice trembling. “What was that about?”

“Just a business deal he wants me to do with him,” Ransom evaded. “Nothing serious.”

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. He must not have known she’d heard as much as she did. What business deal could possibly involve her?

None. Obviously. He was lying. But she was too afraid of the truth to call him out on it.

Ransom cleared his throat. “Whatever happened to those jobs you applied for out west?”

She loved the change in subject. She just wished it wasn’t to this subject.

“Oh. I had some interviews, but they never really went anywhere.”

“That so? Harlan said a few of them called for character references. Can’t imagine anyone turning you down after the glowing reviews he gave.”

He was pressing. Suddenly, she forgot how to breathe.

“Yeah. Well. I got a few offers. But I turned them down. I wanted to be closer to home.”

As soon as she said that last part, she knew it was a mistake. He latched onto it.

“What the Hell does that mean? All you’ve ever talked about since we were kids was how fucking badly you wanted to get out of here. You had every chance. Why haven’t you gone?”

It took all of her strength to say it. “C’mon, Ransom. You know why.”

The job offers outside of Boston had piled up. But every time she thought about taking one, she ran into the same heartbreaking reality. If she left this place, she would have to either leave ransom behind or ask him to go with her. And if she asked him to go with her, she’d have to confess her feelings and…

That was the thing about them. They never said how they felt. They were fun. Uncomplicated. One long party. Which was why, even now, her confession wasn’t much of a confession at all.

You know why was as close as she could get to I love you.

So, she repeated it again, hating the way tears formed in her eyes and her voice cracked. “You know why.”

Tonight, she’d heard him tell his grandfather – the one person in the world Ransom actually respected – that she was an easy choice. That caring about her didn’t matter. They’d spent half a lifetime dancing around one another, making massive, fun messes in each other’s lives and then twirling around the rubble. They were all wrong for each other, an impossibility—

That’s why she didn’t expect the kiss.

Dropping his champagne glass to the floor, not even caring when it shattered, Ransom captured her cheeks with his hands and crashed his lips to hers, breathing years of unsaid feeling into her very heart.

Their first kiss.

And yet, it tasted like every happy memory she’d ever made with him. Birthday cake and champagne and popcorn and starlight.

PARTY #6 – New Years’ Eve

Ransom was an asshole. The difference between Ransom and the woman he loved was that she probably only suspected it somewhere deep, deep down, whereas he faced that truth every minute of every day and had since he was a boy.

That’s the thing about expectations. When you expect something of people, they start to adapt to it. All his life, people told Ransom he was a rich prick. Above the rules. Loveless and ruthless and just like his family.

So, that’s what he became. It was easier to give people what they wanted.

But what made him a real asshole? Well, a few things. Starting with the way he’d convinced her he wasn’t one.

For most of their lives, she’d been his home base – a place he could be safe. When he was with her, he had the creeping hope that he could be more.

She let him be more.

More than the money. More than the cars or the couture or the future inheritance or the name.

When he was near her, he believed it was possible. But the real crime was letting her believe it.

There were more things that proved how big an asshole he was, too. The way he took her to bed the night of his grandfather’s party, something he’d been dreaming about since he was eighteen. The way he didn’t push her away then. The way he allowed her to love him, the way he indulges the slow entwining of their lives until they shared only one.

The way he fell in love with her – finally, recklessly, completely.

The way he told Harlan yes. He would marry her in exchange for controlling interest in the publishing company.

The way he kept that secret from her – even on New Years’ Even. With an engagement ring weighing down his coat pocket.

Tonight’s gala was thrown by The Drysdales for this exact purpose – to give him a perfect backdrop against which to propose. Romantic – to make her feel special. And public – to prop up the family name and reputation.

Harlan had his heart in the right place when he offered the deal. He always knew – no, he believed – that his grandson needed incentive to do the right thing. And as far as Harlan was concerned, letting himself finally love that girl was the best thing he could ever do. He hadn’t made the offer maliciously, this bargain with Ransom and her future. But Ransom had taken it all the same.

And he hated himself for that. Nearly as much as he loved her.

As the clock ticked toward midnight, Ransom paced on the great outdoor terrace – abandoned, for now, by the rest of the party because of the flurrying snowfall. He carried a glass of whiskey. He wasn’t in the mood to drink, nor was he particularly thirsty, but he knew people were watching him – they were always watching – and he had to look the part.

The part of Ransom Drysdale. A part he’d been playing the rest of his life. One he’d be playing until the day he died.

He glanced inside, scanning the room for his almost-fiancée. Wedged between his aunt Joni and Uncle Walt, she sipped champagne and did her best to fit in. But Ransom could read her better than anybody.

She was fucking miserable.

Such a small realization. The woman I love is miserable. But it cut through Ransom like a freshly sharpened axe.

In that moment, a lifetime of parties past flooded his memory. The first night they’d spent together – she’d been hiding. Her 21st birthday – she’d nearly worked herself into a panic attack thinking about that party he’d planned for her. She’d retreated at her own parents’ funeral because she didn’t want to face their associates. She’d bought him from that ridiculous Valentine’s day auction because she wanted to free him for a night and even on the night of his grandfather’s book launch, she’d been in the office to flee the party.

She was trying her best to fit in now. But he loved her precisely because she never could.

All she’d ever tried to do was try to escape nights like these.

Escape.

God, that was all she wanted to do. This life – she hated it. But she stayed.

For him. Because he didn’t have the guts to escape.

And if he asked her to marry him tonight, she was going to say yes. And it would be selfish. So selfish. Because he would be chaining her to a life of this. A life of parties she hated and people who didn’t give a shit and no, no, no escape.

He saw it as clear as the glass separating them. He didn’t want to marry her because of his grandfather’s offer. He wanted to because he loved her. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. And it was unconscionably cruel, indescribably selfish, to keep her.

The doors to the terrace swung open, and partygoers ambled out. Ransom checked his watch. The fireworks would start soon. The countdown would begin any minute.

“Ransom?”

He turned, and there she was. Looking like forever.

It broke his heart.

Everyone thought he didn’t have one. Maybe that’s because it was always hers. And he was pulling away now, trying to walk away while his heart still rested in her hands.

“You look deep in thought,” she said. “Making your resolutions?”

“You know I don’t buy into all of that shit.”

He regretted his tone. He didn’t speak to her that way – ever. But she took it in stride, slipping into his side. “Everyone’s distracted. We can make a quick getaway. Go have an actual good time, just the two of us.”

God – yes. He wanted that. More than anything.

“Where would we go?” He asked, jaw set, eyes on her even as she gazed at the sky over the harbor.

“Anywhere we want.”

She tried to slip her hand in his. He pulled away, knowing if he didn’t, he’d never be able to let her go.

“C’mon. You’ll miss the fireworks,” he said.

But she didn’t move.

“Forget the fireworks. Let’s go.”

“We’re not going—I’m not going anywhere with you.”

She blinked. From the corner of his eye, Ransom caught a glimpse of his grandfather – not even pretending to hide the fact that he was monitoring this situation.

Well, sorry, Harlan. At least you’re used to being disappointed by me.

“Ransom, what’s up with you?”

A minute left in the countdown. Less than a minute left with the only person he’d ever loved. And he’d have to spend it hurting her.

“New Years’ got me thinking. That’s all.”

“I thought you didn’t go in for that stuff.”

“About us.”

Thirty…

“Oh?”

“Whatever this is, this thing we’ve been doing—”

“I wanted to talk to you about that, actually.”

“Yeah?”

Twenty…

“What changed?”

“What do you mean?”

Fifteen…

“We’ve been together almost all of our lives. But the night of Harlan’s party, everything changed. We changed. You changed. Why?”

It would have been easy to lie. But he knew telling the truth would destroy her. And she’d hate him enough to finally leave.  

“Because Harlan said he’d give me the publishing company if I married you.”

Ten…

Her perfect mouth fell in shock. She started to laugh –

“God’s honest truth,” Ransom intoned.

Nine…

“No, you—”

“Don’t worry, though. We’re done here.”

Eight…

All around them, the party tangled together, preparing to kiss and sing. But she stumbled back from him. “Done?”

Seven…

“You and I? It would never work. If I could have loved you, I would have done it by now.”

“You asshole. You liar—”

Six…

“God, I wish you women could get together and write some original fucking material.”

He tried to walk then, but she reached for his jacket, turning him around easily.

“Hey. You love me. I know you do. What’s really going on here?”

Five…

“What’s—Fine.” Four… “You are what they want.” Three… “Harlan loves you. My family has always said what a perfect choice you were.” Two… “And I would rather fucking die than give those fucks what they want.”

One. Happy Fucking New Year.

All around them, kisses and embraces. But they were drifting apart. The start of something new for them both – a life without the other.

“So, that’s it.”

“Yeah,” he said, wanting nothing more than to grab her up in his arms and say no, it wasn’t, he couldn’t ever let her go.

But for the first time in his life, Ransom was strong. Unselfish. And he let her release him from her grip.

“You know, Ransom?” She said, her voice surprisingly strong for goodbye. “I hope, I really do, that one day you can learn to love something more than you hate them.”

As she turned away, he bit back a laugh – a sob? – at the irony of it all.

He did. He did love someone more than he hated them – his family. Loved her so much, he set her free.

A week later, there was another party. Some winter gala for homeless leopards or whatever vapid shit the wealthy of the Eastern seaboard decided deserved their attention. Ransom attended. It was expected, so he went.

As he always did when he entered a party, he scanned for her. Not that he could have spoken to he. Not that she would have so much as looked in his direction. But still.

He swept the room once. Twice. By the fifth pass, he was sure she wasn’t there. And by the seventh, he heard something that made him smile.

“—everything. The houses, the cars, the polo horses. She sold it all, resigned from the country club and the museum board, and moved out west.”

“That family lived here since Boston was founded. And that girl ruined it.”

“I know. What a waste.”

Ransom emptied his glass of whiskey, then lifted it in a little toast. It wasn’t a waste, he thought. It was a better reason for a celebration than any party he’d ever attended.

PARTY #7 – PARTY OF ONE

When Ransom left that night, he retreated to his bungalow. From a box in a hidden compartment beneath his bed, he withdrew a small envelope. Then, he collected a gold lighter from his desk drawer. He poured himself a drink. And he went outside.

The winter air bit his skin. The snow ruined his hair. But he took a long swing of his drink, relishing the frigid temperature.

What was the weather like in California today, he wondered.

When the drink was empty, he reached into the envelope and withdrew two crumpled 100 dollar bills, lifting them to the snow-dappled moonlight for inspection.

He’d never spent that money he got paid to take her out at her debutante ball. Never knew why.

He just knew how fucking grand it felt to light those two bills on fire – and watch the ash and snow tangle on the wind like confetti.

#ransom drydale x you #ransom drysdale x reader #chris evans characters #chris evans fanfiction #ransom drysdale x ofc #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x reader

[rgersmusical]

[ 𝙼𝚈 ] lucifer 𝚒𝚜 𝑳 𝑶 𝑵 𝑬 𝑳 𝒀 : /

*  ʷᵃʳⁿᶦⁿᵍˢ :    first thing's first,   thank you so much for showing interest in this mini-series,  it really means a lot.     this story is strictly  18+  due to the content that will be present.  minors dni you will immediately be reported.     VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

mentions of murder,  gore,  weapons  i.e  knives,  guns,  knife play,  praise kink,  blood play,  drugs,  smoking,  gun play,  violence,  kidnapping,  torture, blood,  mentions of death,  choking,  smut,  voyeurism,  classism,  spitting.       MORE TO BE ADDED AS MORE CHAPTERS ARE ADDED.

ACT I.      Irises stare rigidly,  the colour was rich like chocolate and soft as fur when she was happy,  but when crossed,  quickly became the rocks the ships shattered against in the storm.  A once clear picture is now slightly blurry as the incessant words of discontent are declaimed throughout the mansion's household.  A slight buzz of exhilaration and agitation lingers within the air, melting into the already bitter atmosphere, boisterous whining coming from the rich 'man-child' in the far corner.  Dark brunette locks perfectly slicked,  his own azure eyes showed revulsion as he addressed his uncle,  finger pointed;     veins bulging from a reddening neck;    the urge to trace a manicured tip down its pathway.  One couldn't deny he was handsome, even in his enraged state it did things to a person.  Sheer dominance and filth.  This is probably why more than half of the women in this town have jumped at the chance to be bedded by Ransom Drysdale,  the one and only playboy around here.

" . . . Eat shit, Walt! "

Ah,  Walt Thrombey.  A gigantic thorn in Ransom's side.  The two were always at odds,  especially on nights like this.  A night soon to be filled with horrific terror for a torturous 12 hours. Torturous only to the poor,  though thrilling for the rich.

The Harlow's are close  'friends'  to the Drysdale's/Thrombey's.  When it comes to business associates,  however,  the competition is intense among both parties,  with each trying to outdo the other.  'Friendly competition',  they would say but to those who knew  -  no one wanted to be seen as the 'weakest link'.  And neither party wanted to be seen as such.  The dignity of rich people.  Snobby,  rich people at that.

In battered rhythm,  sharpened nails tap against stoic features,  but inside there is that dreaded feeling of restlessness,  the need to mute the incessant moan from across the room.

" Do you ever tire of hearing yourself? "

As the man before her sat perfectly in the light of her gaze,  the etiquette of a well mannered woman became apparent;  shoulders back,  posture straight.  Curled lashes blink slowly,  voice like honey underlined with a bite.  She waits for an answer,  even if it was sarcastically asked, as she purses her lips out of boredom,  pink,  pillowy flesh just beckoning to be bitten.  The burning gaze of bewilderment from her mother burning the back of her head, though her fixed look never wavered.

You could see the way his jaw ticked,  clear from stubble;  smooth - enhancing the already sharp lines.  To Drysdale,  the diminutive baby blonde was nothing but a dumb annoyance,  a bug he would happily squish;  though he would probably have someone do it for him because heaven forbid the man ruin his designer shoes.

Not a chance in hell.

" Y'know what, Harlow . . . Eat shit! "

Emphasis on those last two words,  a splendid look of triumph on pale skin as the playboy cockily munched on his beloved Biscoff biscuit.  She chews at the inside of her cheek and considers his response,  should she provide one at all.  But alas,  a scoff is heard and a dainty shoulder lifts before arms cross and posture relaxes:  sinking into the expensive antique chair.

" Oh,  Hugh,  you should seriously consider changing your name to those two words for it seems that it's the only vocabulary you know! "

A feigned look of concern graces her once stoic features,  lips curve downward and sculpted brows pinched.

" Are you sure you have been to boarding school?  I thought those who were sent to prestigious schools were supposed to be super smart? "

When she sees Ransom's face of vexation,  the blonde can't help but smirk,  a giddy feeling overtaking her core for knowing that for now,  she has won.

" Dixie,  enough with terrorising Ransom.  I raised you better than that. "

The harsh tone of her mother's voice floats throughout the room,  as the matron of the Harlow family glares at her only child.  In contrast,  Dixie's face remains smooth,  with only a slight twitch of her mouth indicating her amusement. Never does he learn.

" Sorry,  mother. "

But,  sorry she wasn't.  Despite being compliant to please her beloved mother,  winding Hugh Ransom Drysdale up was a hobby of hers.

A celebratory dinner had just been completed between the two families by 6.30pm,  a mere thirty minutes before the festivities began.  Every Purge night was the same.  Food,  drink and a full screening of what the security cameras picked up outside.  Both parties valued the Purge immensely,  but neither party participated.  The Harlows' reasoning is that they did not want to waste their time on 'scum' below them,  and would rather hire someone to carry out their murderous orders.  For their entertainment,  the Drysdale/Thrombey party opted to watch the live feed instead of participating.  As a sign of their support for the cause, the blue Baptisia flowers were picked and left outside the manor in a grand display.

In the grand scheme of things,  you would be stupid not to.    Especially if you value your life.

In all of her 29 years of existence,  Dixie had never participated in the carnage.  Her preference had instead been to watch the festivities on the live feed that was available to her.  Ransom,  on the other hand,  has often had his fair share of tales of doing god-knows-what on nights like this,  following along with descriptions of screwing the first pair of legs available,  then talking about knives being pressed harshly against flesh.  There was a thrill of almost hitting arteries whilst the sounds of petrified screaming and begging rose in the background,  whistling like a taunting tune throughout the blackened streets.

The Drysdale boy's cocky demeanour has not been loved by everyone,  as his previous history has proven.  She is surprised that no one has attempted to execute him.

Money talks.  That much is very clear.

Thanks to the billionaires' money,  Harlan's mansion in Boston,  Massachusetts,  was secured from prying eyes by the latest security system to stop Purgery attacks.  The Harlows' home also has the same security system,  so there was no anxious waiting to see if it was still standing come morning once the sirens ended.  There's no doubt Dianna Harlow would start her own Purge and track down the bandits who destroyed her prised manor if anything were to happen to it.

Leaving the dining room,  both parties move into the lounge,  where Dixie finds Harlan's antique interior to be as fascinating as he is,  but also a testament to their families' wealth.  Shelves are full of heirlooms that are proudly displayed,  some so dainty you're afraid to touch them in fear of breaking;   a wrath the blonde certainly did not want to face even though her curiosity has peaked with intrigue.

Observing the scenes around her,  the petite blonde watches each person settle into the over-cushioned seats except for one.  Marta.  Sweet,  sweet,  Marta.   While Ransom doesn't care about 'The Help' as he constantly parrots,  Dixie enjoys the company of the Cuban-Spanish nurse.  It is no secret that Harlan's nurse disdains this holiday,  and no one can really blame her.  As opposed to the rest of the clan,  Marta grew up without money,  and without the protection and status that came with association with the Founding Fathers.  The 5 foot 6 brunette must've locked herself in one of the spare rooms upstairs.

Poor thing.

Ten pairs of eyes are locked on the cinematic screen that hangs proudly above the fireplace, giddy features illuminated by the cobalt screen as the first three strokes of sound are emitted from the screen.

" This is not a test,  this is your emergency broadcast system announcing the commencement of the annual purge,  sanctioned by the US government. "

If it wasn't for the blaring sounds of the television before her,  you would almost be able to hear the drop of a pin as the people in the room were too entranced by the upcoming scenes before them.

" . . . emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning at 7 am . . . "

Anticipation seeping in each individual's core.

" Blessed be our new Founding Fathers and America a nation reborn.  May God be with you all. "

As the four final sirens reverberate from both the screen and the outside,  Dixie can't help but watch the Drysdale boy before her,  his own gaze fixed on hers.  Faces stoic from emotion,  they glance at the illuminated picture of the approaching chaos streets back to the Harlow girl,  meaty hands pushing themselves from the chair,  bouldered frame moving up the stairs.  And where exactly is he running off too?

Pillowy lips press together in a line of displeasure and her hands flex and curl instinctively.  She follows pushing herself to race up each step to catch up with his tall frame.

" Where are you going? "

Uninclined to wait for an answer,  she begins to reach out.

" You can't just leave me down there with your vexatious family, Hugh. "

Manicured nails that are clenched tightly around the sleeve of his woollen sweater are pried from their hold,  a piercing look of aggravation directed at her.

" Call me that again I'll have your head on a stick and have it beautifully displayed from the mantle for your family to see! "

His words are threatening and any normal person would be shitting their pants right about now, especially when it comes to Ransom Drysdale who likes to make do on his promises.  Unlike others,  Dixie can't help but grin sarcastically, head tilted to meet her clothed shoulder.  Feigning a look of innocence.

" But who else would keep you on your toes on a daily basis? "

Her words are playful,  mischievously so as she allows herself to step a bit closer to his normally intimidating frame.

" You'd miss me too much, Hugh! "

At the sheer look of audacity on his sharpened features,  acting like the man-child that he is in true toddler fashion he stomps grumpily towards his room.  The sounds of triumphant laughter following as platformed Doc Marten's feet slap quickly against perfectly polished wooden floors.

" Don't be such a baby, you know I like playing with you. "

She speaks from behind a plume of ash - white smoke,  waving it away with the demure sweep of her hand.  The incense sticks burn on the chest of drawers beside the doors entrance,  the smell of cinnamon swirling throughout the air almost burning the hair off her nostril.

A king size canopy bed sits in the middle of the room,  and Ransom watches her carefully as he jumps onto it.  An aesthetic of polished mahogany complemented by sanguine thread and golden silk sheets.  Only once has she ever been in these confinements,  since he was usually never here when the Harlow's were around.  His room feels uncomfortable to him,  unusually so for a notorious playboy accustomed to pounding mercilessly into women as they melt around him.

" What do you want Harlow?   If you're not here to suck my dick then please,  don't let the door hit you on the way out. "

A pallid finger points toward the exit,  followed by the infamous Drysdale smirk.  He would be lying to himself if he had never considered fucking the blonde in front of him.  You would be a fool not to.  She has a petite figure,  but her chest and hips would send any man insane.  Of course he would most certainly be taken to the grave if he lied about never having his hand down his pants as he pleasures himself,  thinking of bending the young woman over and fucking her six ways to Sunday.   Even so,  he would never confess it to her.  It was obvious he did not want to infuse her ego,  which is why he always presented himself as disgusted by her. But also the warning that lingered in the back of his head of his grandfather's warning to not corrupt 'sweet, innocent Dixie Harlow,' because he liked her family too much. But Dixie was no fool and as she previously stated,  she liked playing with him.

" Must you always be so crude? "

She responds with an indignant sniff,  infuriating him more as the twenty-nine year old plops herself down next to him.  Giving in with a satisfied sigh melting into the mattress below.

" So,  you never answered my question!   What're you doing up here? "

Eyes glance towards his own holding his stare daring him to look elsewhere.

" Well,  Dix,  I wanted to be on my own,  however,  this annoying little blonde brat decided to follow and annoy the absolute shit outta' me. "

Her tongue clicks against the back of her front teeth and she smiles kindly,  resolutely.

" Oh c'mon Ran, don't be like that. "

Dixie leans over him,  grinning tightly,  malice draped across her expression like a dark sheet.  Just as quickly as the mood had crest,  it flattens itself out.  She sits at the edge of the bed,  prim and proper, spine erect having no reaction from him. Ring clad fingers fish out the mobile device from her jean pocket,  deciding to catch up on social media to see what perjury filth her friends are up too. " Why aren't you down there watching people get whacked? "

Forefinger runs smoothly over blush lips,  eyes seemingly unfocused in front of him as he listens to the tapping of nails from beside him.

" As I said before, I was not prepared to be left on my own to deal with your crazy family.  I only find them entertaining when they're giving you . . . "

Azures snap towards the sound of faded words watching in amusement as brows scrunch together,  frown lines prominent as one blonde's mouth slackens.

" Did you know that,  that fuck face Dalton is throwing a Purge party? "

Phone turned to show the evidence a repeated story of blared music and people dancing with glowing masks,  she stares almost blankly ahead of her,  lips barely opening ajar as the wheels turn in her head.  Her expression is almost comical to him and he wants to continue jabbing at her,  however,  her revelation of a Purge party being held by that Hemmingway douche was at his peak interest.  Where the fuck was his invite?  He'd been to plenty before,  why was this any different?

" Give me that! "

She barely had time to reply before he grabbed the gold phone and thumb tapped on it to move the story forward.  There's a lot of people in the background he cannot stand,  most of whom he would consider a waste of time,  but one body is on display without its mask,  completely intoxicated.

" Looks like half the town was invited, 'cept for us. "

Dixie doesn't wait for him to show what he had on screen,  she's already sprawled herself across his lap to get a clearer image.

" Is that Rachael Kenny?  What the fuck is SHE doing there? "

The corner of her mouth begins to twitch,  faltering over the beginnings of a smile or a sneer.  In an effort to ensure that she was not seeing anything,  she grabbed the device from the man's hands and brought it closer to her face.

In the past,  Dixie and Rachael Kenny were practically sisters.  Always together, out every Friday night,  road trips,  sleepovers,  the whole shebang.  But over time their friendship turned toxic,  the young Harlow girl only stayed friends with her in fear of being alone,  relying on the once good memories they had when their relationship bloomed.  When they parted ways after a harsh word-throwing show down on campus,  it was like a huge weight had been lifted from the blonde's shoulders,  she was free.  She could breathe.  Nomore was she being bombarded with numerous texts and calls and using the excuse of         ' Sorry, I was busy,'     only to be replied with        ' Hardly, when you were active on Messenger 30 minutes go. '

Yeah, S T A L K E R !

It was like that for years.         " Why didn't you call me back? " " Why are you so obsessed with me? "     It literally was like a Mean Girls universe.  She was the Regina George of the group, only . . . worse.   Dixie was never allowed to hang out with her other friends,  unless the she-devil was in attendance.  It only stopped because of one red-headed,  blue eyed baby doll that finally knocked some sense into the anxiety fuelled blonde.

Marcie Jensen,  the only real friend in Dixie's pathetic life.  The same girl who also knocked the vile excuse of a human being down a peg or two,  and always had Dixie cheering in her corner.

Her saving grace.

" That dumb fucking bitch,  god I wish I could kill that mother fucker! "

Taking no notice of her words and ignoring her day's circumstances,  she continued through the story,  her anger becoming stronger with each round. The things she'd like to do to that spoilt,  fake ass bitch,  god,  what would she do.

" What's stopping you? "

His words almost startle her,  blonde tresses almost hitting him in the face as she turns;  noses almost touching at how close they are.

" You're kidding right?  How about the fact that I could be arrested? "

The line of her jaw tenses,  breaths shallow as she fuels her anger;  well tries too.  How could he suggest such a thing without being reminded of the consequences?  She could not be seen in jail,  she couldn't be someone's bitch, never mind having to wear those hideous orange jumpsuits.

A puff of air hits her right in the face,  causing her nose to scrunch with distaste,  not fully understanding why Ransom looked like he was about ready to die with amusement.  His brow arches as he stares her down,  fingers softly taking a strand of blonde between them before tucking behind a pierced ear.

" Now baby, are you that dumb you've already forgotten what day it was? "

Dixie pauses,  similarly blank.  She blinks once,  ready to bite back at his insult. Until it clicks,  like a lightbulb suddenly being switched on to brighten a room.

Oh. OH.

She grins,  the whites of her teeth peeking from behind poppied lips.

" What do you say Drysdale?  Wanna' play psycho killer? "

Ever-so temporarily does his breath hitch,  drawing itself upon the word killer. He shivers,  meaty hands coming to rest on either side of pale cheeks,  bringing faces extremely close.

" I like the way you think Harlow. "

" Then let's go paint the town red. "

                       song choice: i chose violence by iamjakehill.

                                              word count: 3.2k

#myluciferislonely #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x y/n #ransom drysdale x ofc #ransom drysdale imagine #chris evans x reader #chris evans x ofc #chris evans x y/n #steve rogers x reader #andy barber x reader #ransom drysdale x female reader

[ellethespaceunicorn-masterlist]

🎧Elle the Space Unicorn's Masterlist🎧

Reader inserts will have no descriptors, OFCs will be black and plus-sized(unless otherwise stated). I love being able to give girls/femmes who look like me the chance to romance some of their faves.

🎧Bless my current muse...🎧

I love to write fanfiction. Right now, my main muse is Henry Cavill. But I also like some Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan characters (see below who I will write for - send prompts or requests to @ellethespaceunicorn HERE).

Buy Me A Ko-Fi? | AO3 | Author Recs | Fic Recs | Headcanon Recs | Fic Prompts | Fic Title Ideas | Words to use instead of ‘said’ | WIP List | 2023 Fanfiction Wrapped | 2023 Character Wrapped

Masterlist is under the Cut...

Bright Like The Moon (ongoing)

Love, Napoleon (ongoing)

Scrapbook (finished)

Daddy Knows Best (possibly on hiatus)

Don't Take My Sunshine Away (possibly on hiatus)

Touch and Go (possibly ongoing)

The Howling in Claw Creek Forest (ongoing)

What Are You Doing, StepBro?

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Humphrey x Stepsister!Reader

Summary: You and Humphrey don’t have the best start, but before long you will reach an arrangement.

Hold Me Til I Scream For Air To Breathe

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Sub!Clark Kent x Domme!Reader

Summary: Clark needs to give over to his submissive urges, specifically he yearns to be tied up and owned.

I Want a Little Sugar in My Bowl

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Napoleon Solo x Reader

Summary: Napoleon wines and dines.

Make That Kitty Purr {DARK FIC}

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Mike x Reader, August Walker x Reader

Fandom: Hellraiser: Hellworld x Mission: Impossible - Fallout, Crossover AU

Summary: Uncle August doesn’t give a shit that you’re Mike’s girlfriend.

Make That Kitty Purr [Director's Cut] {DARKER FIC}

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Mike x Reader, August Walker x Reader

Fandom: Hellraiser: Hellworld x Mission: Impossible - Fallout, Crossover AU

Summary: Uncle August doesn’t give a shit that you’re Mike’s girlfriend. This is the darker pre-edited version.

Some Things You Just Can’t Refuse

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Dom!Clark Kent x Sub!Reader

Summary: A collection of first times with Clark Kent, and one last time.

Happy Birthday, Cupcake

Rating: General

Pairing: Clark Kent x PlusSize!Reader

Summary: Clark surprises you for your birthday.

Treat Me Like A Slut

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: August Walker x Reader

Summary: August has had enough of your antics, and you’re going to pay for it.

Sometimes The Silence Guides A Mind

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Summary: As you were getting close to Sherlock, he stops visiting. You pop over to Baker Street and share an eye-opening moment.

Don't Take Your Eyes Off It

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Steve Rogers x Black!Fem!Reader 

Summary: It’s Valentine’s Day, and you have a surprise for Steve!

Fifteen Minutes

Character: Walter Marshall x Unnamed Black!OFC

Rating: Explicit

Summary: What Walter does with 15 minutes of his time.

There Is A Light That Never Goes Out

Pairing: Syverson x Reader 

Rating: Mature

Summary: When an unexpected pregnancy rocks your already uncertain world, you decide the best option is to run. Apocalypse AU.

Pretty As A Picture

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: What started as a hobby day in the park turns into Lloyd Hansen showing you why taking photos of strangers is a bad idea.

Something Old, Something New

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Nick Fowler x Reader

Summary: Your childhood best friend invites you to your old vacation spot for her wedding, and you have been catching up with your first crush: her recently divorced big brother Nick.

Oxytocin

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Older!Black!Fem!OFC

Summary: At a New Year's Eve party, Ransom Drysdale's life is forever changed by a chance meeting with Ivy Kensington.

My Little Strawberry

Pairing: Syverson x Black!Reader (Peaches)

Rating: Mature

Summary: A follow-up to Shape Up. Sy has a conversation with his baby girl while she’s still in your stomach. 

Doing Something Unholy

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Charles Brandon x Reader

Summary: This is a prompt fill for some teasing of Charles Brandon and then him taking over.

Praise You

Rating: General, pure fluff

Pairing: Clark Kent x Insecure PlusSize!Reader

Summary: Clark Kent loves everything about you, especially what you think are your flaws.

Get My Pretty Name Outta Your Mouth

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Reader

Summary: You hate everything about Detective Walter Marshall. He feels the same about you. Now, kiss!

Shape-Up

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Cpt Syverson x Black!Reader (Peaches)

Summary: Syverson and his girl, Peaches, try and trim his beard without causing a ruckus. Spoiler alert: they fail.

Follow-up to Shape-Up: My Little Strawberry

The Paganini Problem

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Wife!Reader

Summary: Being Sherlock’s wife proves to be difficult when a case stumps him.

Power Play: After Hours

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Assistant!Black!Reader

Summary: What happens when Lloyd sees you, his assistant, in something other than what you usually wear? Well, you should be worried about what he does when he sees you.

No Good Deeds

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Landlord!Ari Levinson x Reader

Summary: Moving out on your own is challenging, but your landlord, Mr. Levinson is kind and helpful. But he may want more from you than your tenancy.

Executive Temptation

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: CEO!August Walker x Employee!Reader

Summary: You’ve caught the eye of CEO August Walker. What happens when he asks you to go to his private office?

Walter Marshall - Hobbies

Lloyd Hansen - Family, Quirks/Hobbies, Sleep

Lloyd Hansen - What happens when reader starts dressing to match lloyd?

Walter Marshall (Night Hunter)

Geralt of Rivia (The Witcher)

Clark Kent (Man of Steel, BvS, Justice League)

Humphrey (Stardust)

Charles Brandon (The Tudors)

Mike (Hellraiser: Hellworld)

Napoleon Solo (The Man from U.N.C.L.E.)

August Walker (Mission: Impossible - Fallout)

Will Shaw (The Cold Light of Day)

Sherlock Holmes (Enola Holmes films)

Captain Syverson (Sand Castle)

Evan Marshall (Blood Creek)

Melot (Tristan and Isolde)

Thomas Apreas (Hotel Laguna)

Chas Quilter (The Inspector Lyndley Mysteries)

Stephen Colley (I Capture the Castle)

I DO NOT WRITE RPF FOR HENRY

Lloyd Hansen (The Gray Man)

Andy Barber (Defending Jacob)

Ransom Drysdale (Knives Out)

Steve Rogers (Avengers films)

Curtis Everett (Snowpiercer)

Ari Levinson (The Red Sea Diving Resort)

Nick Gant (PUSH)

Jake Jensen (The Losers)

Frank Adler (Gifted)

I DO NOT WRITE RPF FOR CHRIS

Bucky Barnes (Marvel)

Charles Blackwood (We Have Always Lived in the Castle)

Steve Kemp (Fresh)

Max (Sharper)

Nick Fowler (The 355)

Lee Bodecker (The Devill All The Time)

Chris (Destroyer)

Justin Capshaw (Law & Order)

I DO NOT WRITE RPF FOR SEBASTIAN

Let me know if you wanna be added and for what plz, so far only these categories 😁 Let me know if you ever want to be removed!

General Fanfiction (Everything)

Henry Character Fanfiction

Chris Character Fanfiction

August Walker

Bright Like The Moon

Love, Napoleon!

Daddy Knows Best

Don't Take My Sunshine Away

The Howling in Claw Creek Forest

~Please DON'T ask me to tag you in a series that you've never 'liked' or 'reblogged'. It's just kind of rude. Also, don't ask for an ETA on the next chapter.~

*Blog Header, Cover Art for fics, Masterlist Header/MDNI 18+ Banner, Support/Reblog banner and Masterlist Dividers made by me in Canva*

#elle the space unicorn #ellethespaceunicorn speaks #my masterlist #ellethespaceunicorn masterlist #ao3 #chris evans #walter marshall #clark kent #napoleon solo #syverson #walter marshall x ofc #hc sherlock holmes #ellethespaceunicorn fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill #sherlock holmes #august walker #hellraiser mike #mike hellraiser #evan marshall #lloyd hansen #ellethespaceunicorn requests #humphrey stardust #charles brandon #ellethespaceunicorn prompt fill #sebastian stan #nick fowler #steve rogers #ransom drysdale

[saiyanprincessswanie]

SaiyanPrincessSwanie - Reading List Week 147 & 148

Welcome to Week 147 & 148

As always these will be listed in no particular order. None of these stories are mine. I’m just signal boosting them. Author is listed next to title. My goal is to signal boost writers and spread positivity in the community.  💜💜

Click HERE to see what I will or won’t read. This is very important.

Click HERE for past reading lists.

My Masterlist click HERE

Please make sure you’re reading the warnings on every story. They range from dark to fluff. Do Not Read if you are under 18 years old. These stories are meant for adults only. You’re responsible for your own media consumption.

Page-break by @whimsicalrogers​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ & header by me

If you can, please reblog these lists so they can reach more people on Tumblr.

I love you 3000 💜 Missy

Mine Part 1 - (Steve x Reader) - @saiyanprincessswanie​​

Secrets Chp 12 - (Steve x OFC, Brock x OFC) - @nekoannie-chan​

Distorted - @ironlady1993​

Baby I’m Preying on You Tonight - (Hannibal x Reader) - @the-soulofdevil​

Collared part 13  - (Dean x Reader) -  @spnexploration​

Collared part 14 - (Dean x Reader) - @spnexploration​

Heart of Glass - Part 4 - (Curtis x Reader) - @syntheticavenger

Bad Night - (Bucky x Reader) - @winter-soldier-vibes

Bucky Drabble - @indyluckycharlie

His Inheritance - Part 18 - (Steve x Reader) - @jtargaryen18

Little Bird - Part 3 - (Bucky x Reader) - @gogolucky13

Real Life Tasks With Ransom - Day 10 - @wiypt-writes @sweater-daddiesdumbdork

Secret Sierra - Chp 8 - @lloydsbitch

Huge mistake - (Steve x Reader) - @nekoannie-chan

Time to Study - (Bucky x Reader) - @navybrat817

Like Jello - (Ari x Reader) - @late-to-the-party-81

Breaking - (Steve x Reader) - @sweater-daddiesdumbdork

Thirsty - (Bucky x Reader) - @jobean12-blog

Hunger - (Bucky x Reader) - @jobean12-blog

Breakfast - (Steve x Reader) - @nekoannie-chan

DBF! Ari Drabble - @angrythingstarlight

Under the Blue - (Ari x Reader) - @flordeamatista

Air - (Ari x Reader) - @flordeamatista

Threadbare - (Steve x Reader) - @ronearoundblindly

Though I Have Never Read It - (Bucky x Reader) - @tuiccim

The Perfect Storm - (Andy x Reader) - @targaryenvampireslayer

Man with a plan - Part 1 - (Stucky x Reader) - @sidepartskinnyjeans

Man with a plan - Part 2 - (Stucky x Reader) - @sidepartskinnyjeans

Digital Bath - Part 1 - (Bucky x Reader) - @syntheticavenger

First Mother's Day - (Steve x Reader, Bucky x Reader) - @navybrat817

Hands off - Part 1 - (Steve x Reader) - @darsynia

Second Time Around - (Steve x Reader) - @cockslutpadalecki

Secrets Chp 13 - (Steve x ofc, Brock x ofc) - @nekoannie-chan

After Hours - (Ari x Reader) - @flordeamatista

Normal, not boring - Kinktober 25 - (Steve x Reader x Bucky) - @holylulusworld

Sibling Rivalry - Part 33 - (Steve x Reader) - @imdarkinme

3 Billion Divorce - Part 1 - (Lloyd x Reader) - @deliciousangelfestival

Just Right - Chp 1 - (Steve x Reader) - @darsynia

The Root of all Ransom - Part 1 - (Ransom x Reader) - @ronearoundblindly

Fresh Fallen Snow, Part 1 - (Curtis x Reader) - @georgiapeach30513

She - (Brock Rumlow X Reader (platonic), Jack Rollins X Reader - @nekoannie-chan

The psychos find a new toy - (Mr Freezy x Reader) - @the-iceni-bitch

Smother - (Frank C x Reader) - @fluffyprettykitty

Light - (Steve x Reader) - @nekoannie-chan

#saiyanprincessswanie #recommended reading #missy reads #missy reblogs #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x ofc #brock rumlow x ofc #dean winchester x reader #curtis everett x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #lloyd hansen x reader #ari levinson x reader #mr freezy x reader #frank castle x reader

[po03sficrecs]

Authors I 10/10 recommend

A.N.: This list will be updated from time to time as I discover new writers on this app, also, if there are favourites of yours that aren’t here let me now, I’ll check them out ! Also some of these might be 18+ only so please respect each author’s rules/guidelines.

Chris Evans

@time-for-a-lullaby

@k-evans-reads

@secretswiftymarvelfan

@onsunnyside

@theycallmebecca

@milkathedudz

@andydrysdalerogers

Chris Evans’ Characters

@secretswiftymarvelfan

@imaginedreamwrite

@drabblewithfrannybarnes

@spectre-posts

@onsunnyside

@theycallmebecca

@andydrysdalerogers

#chris evans #steve rogers #ari levinson #jake jensen #andy barber #frank adler #lloyd hansen #harvard hottie #jake wyler #syd #colin shea #curtis everett #ransom drysdale #hugh ransom drysdale #captain america #x reader #x ofc #x oc #johnny storm #marvel mcu #the red sea diving resort #the loosers #snowpiercer #the nanny diaries #not another teen movie #knives out #what's your number #the grey man #gifted #defending jacob

[andydrysdalerogers]

Following Team Orders ~ A Steve Rogers -Formula One AU

Pairings: Steve Rogers x OFC Olivia Williams

Formula One

It's the top of the top, best of the best, most intense racing in the world.  There are only 20 drivers at a time that can race. 10 teams that get sponsored. Twenty-three tracks around the world to test the skills of these drivers and crown one champion.

No woman has ever won a race.

And Liv is given a chance to prove them wrong.

After Bucky Barnes, a driver for Red Bull, is injured at Bahrain, Olivia Williams has the chance of a lifetime: be one of six female Formula One drivers in the history of the sport.  Liv has been racing since she was 5 and she takes the opportunity to become one of the elite 20 drivers in the world.  Bucky sees her potential.  His racing partner does not.

Steve Rogers is the number 2 driver in the world behind his chief rival, Ransom Drysdale. He thought this would be his year, racing with his best friend Bucky and taking on rival Mercedes. Until Bucky is hurt during the first race of the year.  They are bringing in a rookie to complete the team.  And Steve is not happy.  Because a woman has never succeeded in this sport, and he sure isn't going to let the beautiful and tenacious Olivia bring his year down.

Now, he has one year, 23 races, two rivals and one attraction that could make or break his chances at the championship.  They just need to follow team orders.  But will they be able to when they take a chance at following their own hearts?

Warnings: A-N-G-S-T!!! Smut (eventually), car crashes, death, degrading speeches, a mean Steve Rogers, an even meaner Ransom Drysdale, fluff

Chapters:

Bahrain

Saudia Arabia

Australia

Emilia Romagna

Miami

Monaco

Montreal

Silverstone

Austria

France

Series Break

Spa-Francorchamps

Netherlands

Monza

Sochi

Singapore

Austin

Mexico City

Las Vegas

Sao Paolo

Sao Paolo - Part 2

Abu Dhabi

Epilogue

One Shot: He's a Yankee Doodle Sweetheart; but She's his Yankee Doddle Girl

Cast

Olivia Williams (Gal Gadot) – rookie driver for Red Bull, youngest daughter of racing legend David Williams

Steve Rogers - veteran driver for Red Bull

James "Bucky" Barnes – veteran driver for Red Bull, injured in first race and becomes Olivia's crew chief

Andy Barber – team principal Red Bull

Ransom Drysdale – principal driver, Mercedes, Olivia's former boyfriend

Lance Tucker – second driver, Mercedes

Lloyd Hansen – owner, Mercedes

Sam Wilson – Steve's crew chief and other best friend

Frank Adler – Olivia's best friend and mechanic- team Red Bull

Johnny Storm – shameless flirt – driver – team Ferrari

I will start posting this one once a week on Wednesdays! I'm adding in my normal tag list but please let me know if you want to be added or removed

Taglist:

@patzammit @slutforchrisjamalevans @texmexdarling @jennmurawski13-writes @firephotogrl74

#andy's hea #following team orders #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers au #steve rogers x ofc #chris evans fanfiction #bucky barnes #andy barber #ransom drysdale #formula one au #female f1 driver #andy's shenanigans #chris evans #multifandom rp #lance tucker #lloyd hansen

[americasass81]

!!WARNING:- 18+ ADULT CONTENT. BY CLICKING ANY TITLE BELOW YOU ARE ACKNOWLEDGING THAT YOU ARE OVER 18 AND CONSENT TO VIEWING THE CONTENT INCLUDED.!!

YOUR MEDIA CONSUMPTION IS YOUR RESPONSIBILITY SO PLEASE READ ALL THE WARNINGS PROVIDED.

NO REPOSTING (rewriting, copying or translating on another platform claiming it’s your’s or saying I gave you my explicit permission. I didn’t). If you see my work anywhere other than my Tumblr please let me know.

################################

A Well Deserved Treat (dark-ish/soft Andy Barber & Steve Rogers)

⭐Named Female Reader⭐

Synopsis:- Can your marriage survive the discovery of a secret and an unexpected surprise?

Total Word Count:- 3,652

Written as a gift for @ozarkthedog

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spooky Triple Treats (dark-ish/soft Andy Barber, Steve Rogers & Johnny Storm)

⭐Named Female Reader⭐

Synopsis:- Meeting a seemingly perfect good samaritan while out shopping, spooky week is about to take a turn you never expected.

Total Word Count:- 12K+

Written as a gift for @sweater-daddiesdumbdork

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now You’re For It (dark Professor!Bucky Barnes, dark Professor!Steve Rogers, dark Professor!Ransom Drysdale)

⭐Named Female Reader⭐ 🌩️Physical Character Traits🌩️

Synopsis:- What chaos will ensue when your sexy professors confront you about your in class activities?

Total Word Count: 1,214

Written as a gift for @hansensgirl

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Make A Wish And Blow 😉😉😉 (soft!Brock Rumlow, soft!Bucky Barnes, soft!Steve Rogers)

Synopsis:- Accidentally coming across your unfinished novel, your husband finds an interesting way to celebrate your birthday and get your creative juices flowing once again.

Total Word Count:- 6,516

🎂Written for @saiyanprincessswanie as a Birthday gift.🎂

#Andy Barber #Steve Rogers #Andy Barber x OFC x Steve Rogers #Johnny Storm #Andy Barber x OFC #Steve Rogers x OFC #Johnny Storm x OFC #Bucky Barnes #Ransom Drysdale #Professor!Bucky Barnes x OFC #Professor!Steve Rogers x OFC #Professor!Ransom Drysdale x OFC

[ellethespaceunicorn]

i have an idea...

There WILL be Mommy kink in this, jsyk.

Oxytocin is released into the bloodstream as a hormone in response to sexual activity and during labour.

Can't take it back once it's been set in motion You know I need you for the oxytocin If you find it hard to swallow, I can loosen up your collar 'Cause as long as you're still breathing, don't you even think of leaving

#chris evans #chris evans characters #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x ofc #ransom drysdale smut #ellethespaceunicorn fanfic #Spotify

[foreversecrets]

Gerrymandering

Chapter 1 Hope

Ransom Drysdale x OC (Alice)

Summary: Ransom watched the mates of the pack not with envy but with almost a sense of relief that he dind't have to worry about doing right by his own mate because he met her years ago and purposely pushed her out of his life. But she's his true mate, could they reallly keep apart?

With Steve and Lloyd having successfully found their mates, the brothers had all started taking bets on who would be next, bets were on him. But Ransom knew it wouldn’t be him, because he met his mate long ago and he’d pushed Alice away; she was never coming back and part of him was glad for it. He’d saved her a life of pain and sorrow with him and his shitty family but part of him wonders if she’d be accepted by his new family now. The Thrombey’s would have never welcomed her into the pack but after seeing how Emma and Rebecca had been integrated and cared for he thinks she would have been happy. He hopes that she found an alpha similar to his brothers, someone to take care of her in the ways she deserves.

They’d met freshman year in college, even through the drugs, stress, and alcohol they’d known they were true mates. He’d tried to be a good alpha but even before things got started he knew he couldn’t be good enough for her, probably why he’d never given her his mark. From the get go they poorly matched him, the rich, playboy, asshole coasting through life while she was the fat, struggling, poor girl. Even before they tried dating he warned her fidelity wasn’t his strong suit, but credit where credit is due he remained faithful throughout the entirety of their relationship. One place that had seen eye to eye was never wanting pups, neither of them ever having learned how to be nurturing or loving because their parents had fucked them up enough, they didn’t need to do that to offspring. She had big dreams of being a career woman while he didn’t even know what he wanted to do with his life. 

“Ransom, are you alright?” the tired voice of Emma breaks him from his nostalgia. He looks up at Emma to see the exhaustion on her face. She’s been struggling with the terrible twos and work, Steve’s been doing his best to help around the house when he’s home but he still gets pulled away frequently for missions with the Avengers.

“I’m fine,” he growls out, not really angry at her but angry with himself and all the shit he’s put people through in his life. The pout on Emma’s face makes him sigh in exasperation, “I’m sorry Em, I was just in my own head.”

“Anything I can do to help?” true omega fashion, trying to fix things. 

“Not this time,” he kissed her on the cheek and headed into Sarah’s room to check on the toddler. She’s sleeping soundly finally, she’s been sick-a minor cold but between Sarah being sick and James teething Emma hasn’t had time to herself. Steve is resting now to relieve her soon but with the chaos of their household he, Andy, and Ari have been stopping by to try and give the couple a break. Lloyd and Rebecca are still gone off doing God knows what for their honeymoon, probably taking down drug cartels. 

“Ran, didn’t know you were still here,” Steve yawns exiting the master bedroom and tugging on a t-shirt. “Where’s Em?”

“Kitchen, she’s looking ragged.”

“I’ll get her to bed and take over kid duty, thank you again for stopping by and helping out.” Steve gives him an earnest look before heading towards the kitchen. A sense of longing enters him as he hears the whispered adoration between husband and wife followed by a reminder that he could have had all of this too if he had hung on and waited for Steve to come along to bring him and his omega into his pack.

💸💸💸

Alice smiles down at her daughter, brow furrowed as she struggles with her homework. She’s been having a difficult time with math which luckily for Alice she’s a pro at. Kind of a requirement when you're an accountant, even the kind that works from home. A knock at the front door stops Alice’s staring, investigating she finds the one person she wishes would forget about her and Madison. She opens the door, a fake smile plastered on her face.

“Linda, I wasn’t expecting you, please come in.” Alice gestures to the apartment. She knows she doesn’t have to invite Linda Drysdale into the apartment, it's technically hers but she keeps up formalities to keep her happy. 

“Grandma!” Maddy cries in happiness, rushing to the door at having heard Alice speak Linda’s name.

For all her faults, Alice has to admit that Linda has wormed her way into Molly’s heart and developed a true affection for the girl she once thought was going to ruin the perfect image for her family. She’s a good grandmother but a shitty person. Alice plays the cordial but she can’t help the resentment she harbors for the woman who completely controls her life. The rules she follows have been set by Linda in exchange for his financial assistance in raising Maddy. Because of Linda Drysdale she’s never gotten the chance to repair things with her truth, not even been allowed to date because ‘I won’t provide for another bastard pup,’ was thrown in her face. She’s only allowed to work when Maddy is at school but even their Alice has to be there on time everyday for pick up and drop off because ‘Maddy needs constant care, and I give you more than enough to provide for the two of you.’ Linda Drysdale is the worst thing to have ever happened to her but she does have her moments of humanity, mostly centered around Maddy. She’s always available to take Maddy during her heats, while she suffers at home alone barely getting by and she’s never missed anything involving her granddaughter, from school events to holidays she’s always present. But it's just her, no one else knows about Maddy and she’s made damn sure of it.

“Hi pumpkin, grandma missed you.” Linda talks in a baby voice as if Maddy is still a toddler but Maddy just giggles and wraps her arms around Linda affectionately.

“I missed you too!” Linda pats her on the head. “Why don’t you take your homework in your room while your mother and I have a chat?”

Maddy pouts at Linda before sighing and looking to her mother, “If you get stuck on anything, make a note and we can go over it together later.” 

Maddy treks off leaving Alice alone with Linda in the kitchen, Alice trying to avoid whatever bad news Linda has by stirring the spaghetti sauce. But Linda doesn’t even seem phased as she makes herself comfortable at the dining room table, a ‘gift’ Linda had given them when Alice allowed her to take Maddy on a weekend trip a couple years ago.

“Is everything alright?” she breaks the silence for them, knowing Linda is waiting for her to ask. The control freak of Linda wanting the attention and respect Alice so badly wants to refuse. 

“Fine, I just need your help.”

“Of course, anything I can do to help you, you’ve done so much for us.” there’s too much sweetness in her voice, even she can tell it's painfully obvious she’s forcing it.

“Cheer up, you’re getting what you always wanted, a chance to reconcile with my son and introduce him to his daughter.”

Alice drops the wooden spoon, her gaze falling on Linda as she waits for an explanation. She’s begged and pleaded for years for Linda to at least allow Ransom the knowledge he is a father, even if she wouldn’t let Alice see him. The night she ‘broke’ his heart by storming out of a Thrombey family dinner and running away from Ransom the constant excuse for why Linda didn’t want Alice in Ransom’s life. Truly that night had been the night Ransom broke her heart and it wasn’t until her roommate in college helped her see another perspective that she realized Ransom pushed her away out of some selfless act to protect her from his shitty family. When she’d tried to reach him she was met with the immovable wall that is Linda, and when she found out she was pregnant Linda had tried to force her into terminating the pregnancy. It was in those months, the reasons Emma had given her made the most sense of Ransom’s actions.

“What?”

“Ransom has cut all ties with his family, you are going to make him see reason and if he does I will allow Madison to be part of his life.”

“You’ll allow it? And what if Ransom wants nothing to do with us? More than likely he will resent me for keeping this from him all these years when I never really had a choice in the matter, did i?” she snaps.

“Watch your tone with me you little bitch. I can-”

“Yeah, yeah, take everything away from me but you know what I’m starting to think. A life of struggling is much preferred to having my life controlled by a narcissist like you.”

Before Alice can react Linda is up from her chair a stinging on her cheek indicating she’d been struck. “Now I’m going to allow that outburst because I understand this is a delicate situation. But you are going to bring Madison to this address at this time for a party.”

Alice looks down at the piece of paper, her confusion evident on her face. “This is Emma’s address.”

“My son joined her husband’s pack years ago,” Linda looks confused now. “How do you know Emma Rogers?”

“She’s my best friend.”

“So you haven’t been keeping away from my son.” she accuses.

“I haven’t seen him since that night, I didn’t know he was in her pack, she never talks about him. She didn’t even know we were ever together.”

“Well then you showing up for the party shouldn’t be too much of a surprise, should it?”

“Please Linda, let me go without Maddy. It will do more harm than good for both of them. The shock of learning he has a daughter will probably force him to withdraw from me too and introducing Maddy to her father only to have him ripped from his life again will destroy her.” The begging is back again, Linda had taken her pride long ago but having to beg this woman still hurts her more than anything. Which is probably why Linda actually listens to her argument and concedes. 

🧾🧾🧾

When she arrived Emma was pleasantly surprised, they’d texted about the party for Sarah’s birthday but as Linda wasn’t fond of some of Steve’s friends-specifically Bucky, Emma hadn’t bothered to invite her knowing it would be a no. Emma didn’t know names or who was involved but they’d been close friends since their freshman year in college when they shared a dorm room, so she’d endured all the venting Alice had done throughout the years and grew to hate Linda just as much as Alice. But Emma understood the need to provide for one child, there isn’t anything she wouldn’t do for Sarah or James and one of those kids wasn’t even talking yet. Alice placed Sarah’s gift on the proper table and blended into the background, content to observe Ransom as he interacted with the children present. When Linda explained Ransom had been part of Steve Rogers pack for the past five years but only over that last six months did he completely block everyone from his family apart from Harlan. A big no-no in Linda’s book which is why she was almost desperate to get back into her son's life. 

He’d been thinking of Alice a lot recently, so he assumed his mindle was manifesting that cedra and honeysuckle scent that was entirely her. He didn’t look for her in the crowd because he knew she wouldn’t be there but what would he say if she were here? I’m less of an ass now, let's try again? Or maybe explain he had a family that would respect and genuinely care for her, welcoming her into the fold simply because they were kind people. He’d just taken James from Steve so he could help Emma serve cake when he saw what he thought was a hallucination but he was entirely sober. No drugs or alcohol since Steve and Andy had helped him get clean years ago before bringing him into the pack. That couldn’t be Alice staring at him from the other room, barely enough line of sight from the dinning room to the living for him to make out those brown doe eyes he’d been so fond of. 

“Ransom,” she said softly, he shouldn’t have been able to hear her from the other room but that’s all he could hear. 

“Andy, take James.” Ransom ordered, passing the infant off to Andy before rushing into the living room and grasping the shoulders of his imagination. “You're real.” he breathed.

“Yeah,” she chuckled. “Hi Ran.”

“How are you here?”

“That’s a complicated story but I’m just on my way out.” Alice tried to pull away but he refused to let her go a second time. Instead he wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her chestnut hair to hide the few tears that slipped. “Ransom I can’t do this, you’re so happy I can’t participate in hurting you even if it costs me.”

He pulled back enough to meet her gaze, “You could never hurt me, please let's get out here, sit down and talk. So much has changed-”

“Ransom, you’re mother sent me here to coax you into opening a dialogue with her again but you’re so happy here I can’t help bring toxicity back in your life.”

“My mother? You are in contact with my mother.” he took a step back connecting dots. “How much is she paying you?” he growled out. “Never seemed like a gold digger before but things really must have changed.”

“Don’t you dare!” She raised her voice enough to earn the attention of the married Rogers pair. “I have endured so much shit because of your mother, you don’t get to paint me as the shallow villain.”

“So you are taking money from her,” he pushed her away from him. 

“Ransom! That’s enough!” Emma snapped coming to check on Alice before narrowing her eyes at Ransom, understanding registering as all the stories Alice had ever told her clicked into place. “She has done what she had to in order to support-”

“What happened to that fancy degree you were so insistent on? Decided you didn’t want to work so you could just siphon money from my mother.”

“I did it for your fucking daughter you asshole!” Alice screamed, everyone's attention on them now making her trying to calm her tone and tears. “I have endured so much humiliation, abided by her absurd and invasion rules, all to properly provide for your daughter I was forbidden from telling anyone about. So don’t you dare diminish my character Hugh.”

It was like they had never been apart as Ransom felt every ounce of her pain even as she rushed away. Ransom couldn’t focus on anything but the fact that he had a kid he’d never known about. Steve’s pleas for him to go after Alice went unacknowledged, with Emma’s urging Steve went after Alice while Emma sat Ransom down and tried to explain things. Emma Mentals kicks herself for never having pieced this together before, a wealthy family in this area that had connections in New York where she’d been relocated by the mother of her true mate she’d never see again. 

“Ransom,” Emma’s soft voice drew his attention to her features but he wasn’t sure he was actually hearing her. “Alice has endured years of having no control of her life because of your mother. She’d told me something happened and when she went to make amends with you, your mother threatened her with legal actions to keep her at bay. When she found out she was pregnant your mother tried to bribe her into getting rid of it.”

“What?” tears are falling freely down his face now as he processes the information.

“I remember asking her why she decided to keep the kid, she was adamant that if she couldn’t have you, she could at least have a part of you. So, she kept Madison in doing so Linda took full control of her life. In exchange for house, medical insurance, and really no financial stress at all Alice had to follow every request, endure verbal harassment-though I saw that bruise on her cheek bone and I think there may be physical abuse as well.”

“Request, what request?”

“Alice wasn’t allowed to tell anyone who the father was, she’s not allowed to date, she has to abide by a strict social schedule, she’s only allowed to work four hours a day, she can only go out without Madison once a month and even that is usually taken away. The only time Linda truly lets her have alone time is when she’s in heat and she even has strict rules for her to follow on that.”

“She can’t fuck with an omega’s heat.” Ransom growls, his mothers an alpha but surely even she knows how sensitive those times are.

“Alice hasn’t been allowed to have a sexual partner since she agreed to keep the pup, and Linda won’t let her get any toy or aides because she didn’t want Madison accidentally stumbling upon the items.”

“That’s cruel.”

“So, maybe now that we all know, we can help her out of that situation.” Emma reassures.

“You can’t,” Alice whispers, her eyes are red and puffy. She looks exhausted as she leans against Steve, whose eyes are focused on his wife now looking for clues to know what to do. “Linda said if I ever tried to end our arrangement she’d take Maddy away from me.” The tears are back, her voice is thick but she maintains her composure. “I can’t afford the legal teams she can to keep her and Maddy is all I have.”

Steve sends Ransom a look, nodding his head towards Alice trying to convey what he should do and say but Ransom hesitates. He’s not sure he deserves another chance with her, not sure he deserves to meet the kid she’s raised. Maddison is no doubt better off without him around fucking up her life but there’s that look in Alice’s eyes, that look that she’s reserved for since they met. It's a look that says she completely trusts him and relies on him for a feeling of security, that she sees his flaws and would still choose him every time. 

“Andy!” Ransom shouts drawing the other man into the room, still holding James with a mock confusion look on his face as if everyone hasn’t been listening in. “What can we do?”

“I would need to see the documents of Alice’s agreement with Linda but as a grandparent, unless she can produce clear evidence of Alice’s shortcomings as a mother, the probability of her getting full custody is slim.”

“I’ve never had legal trouble or a substance abuse problem and my whole life revolves around my daughter but anytime I make a decision Maddy doesn’t like she calls Linda with those fake tears… Linda records those calls.”

“So what you're saying is my mother doesn’t even let you raise our kid?” Ransom’s rage is for his mother but he can’t help feeling a little resentment at her for not telling him. He couldn’t have provided for them just as easily as Linda has without the restrictions. He reminds himself the last thing he said to her that night was cruel, ‘I could never love a fat, poor, bitch. It's been fun but it runs its course.’ Why would she reach out to him after he’d insulted her with her insecurities and her deepest fears? 

“I can’t lose her Ransom, I already lost you and practically all my friends-my family.”

“She doesn’t let you see your family?” Steve’s grunts, his anger rising too. Alice shakes her head no.

Ransom approached wrapping his arms around her, “You don’t have to do this alone anymore, maybe it was fate that brought you here today because you are all I’ve been thinking about lately. How I would make amends for past transgressions and finally give you my mark and now you're here and I have that chance and a kid I need to get to know. Say the word and I’ll help you get through this with or without us rekindling our bond.” She buries her face into his chest breathing deeply of his scent and nodding against his chest. “Andy, can my girl get that family discount?”

“I don’t typically do family law.” The pleading in Ransom, Emma, and Steve’s eyes are unnecessary because Andy is already thinking of contacts he can reach out to assist. “I have a few friends who owe me favors, I’ll call them up and get their assistance on this, in the meantime I suggest you pack up anything Linda hasn’t purchased and relocate you and your daughter.”

“I don’t have the funds to move, and New York is expensive.” Alice sighs looking over to Andy but not removing herself from Ransom’s arms.

“I have a nice place, I can convert one of the guestrooms into a room for Madison and …” he doesn’t want to assume she’ll welcome the idea of a shared bed but he doesn’t want to have this conversation in front of his chosen family. “There is more than enough room for you and Madison at my place.”

“Ran-” she starts but when she meets his gaze, it's almost like she’s back to her freshman year in college meeting her mate for the first time. She leans up and forces a kiss to his lips, Ransom only takes a second to reciprocate. It's clear from the way they move against one another she’s out of practice but he still remembers what to do to make her melt in his arms. A throat clears and they break apart, “thank you.”

“There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you.” he promises. 

With the mood now settling, Ari and Lloyd let the three year old Sarah enter the room following behind her. “So we're going to talk about how I won the bet?” Lloyd asks.

“Technically you didn’t win Lloyd,” Ransom moves himself and Alice to the couch for her to sit on his lap. “Alice and I met in college so I met my mate long before anyone else here.”

“A technicality since she doesn’t bare your mark.” Ari points out.

“I’ll rectify that tonight if she’ll let me,” he looks at her, surprised when she nods, not even hesitating to consider.

“Uh, Ransom, I hate to burst that bubble but there are rules you’re forgetting.” Rebecca looks uncomfortable as she reminds everyone. 

“She’s the mother of my kid.” Ransom counters.

“Laurie is the mother of mine,” Andy reminds solemnly.

“Are you really going to deny me my true mate?” Ransom asks.

“I’ve known Alice for some time now, she has my blessing.” Steve offers a reassuring smile to the confused omega sitting in his brother's lap. 

“That’s great for you but this is the first time the rest of us are meeting her.” Ari reminds me.

“It only took you twenty minutes to approve of Emam.” Ransom accuses.

“And it took three months before anyone would budge on Becca.” Lloyd reminds him. “We need time to get to know her and make up our minds.”

“No, you decide here and now because if you reject her you reject me.” Ransom stands, placing Alice back in his seat. “I came into this pack-”

“Ran no!” Alice pops up understanding what he is about to do. “Ransom they are your family, they make you happy. I’m not going to be the source of tension between you and them, I can” hear lip trembles. “I’ve been dealing with Linda for 8 years, I can handle another 10.”

“I’m not letting you go back there.” 

Ransom barks at the same time Ari shouts.

“She has my blessing,” curious looks from the others. “She clearly puts his happiness above her own, she wasn’t even going to do what Linda sent her here to do. When Ransom spotted her she tried to run out to the front door so he wouldn’t get to her.”

“No one has to be unhappy in this situation.” Lloyd sighs. “I give my blessing.”

All eyes turn to Andy, “I’m sorry Ran, I’ll help with the custody battle with your mom, I’ll help with the move, I’ll support the relationship but I’m not ready to give my blessing right now. It was because of a kid Laurie and I got married and mated in the first place so I can’t, not yet.”

Before Ransom can rebuff him Alice speaks up, “we understand, thank you. We don’t have to be mated yet but you truly won’t mind me being with Ransom?”

“Hey he’s your problem now.” Andy tries to joke before retreating, remorse washing over him as memories burn in his eyes. 

“Alice, come home with me tonight, we can figure things out and come up with a game plan for how to handle my mother."

#steve rogers #steve rogers x oc #omega ofc #alpha steve rogers #alpha andy barber #alternate universe #wolf pack #alpha/omega #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #alpha/beta/omega au #alpha/beta/omega verse #alpha lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x oc #lloyd hansen #ransom drysdale #alpha ransom drysdale

[niffala]

I Quit (Pt. 2)

Warnings: The Thrombeys being themselves

A/N: Reader insert version found here. The Thrombeys’ opinions are NOT my own. 18+ only due to smut and dubcon situations. No stealing, no reposts, no translations, no feeding to AIs. Comments, reblogs and likes are always welcome and appreciated.

Chapter 1 Series Masterlist     Main Masterlist

Chapter 2

The first two weeks of Elizabeth's employment went smoothly. Harlan did indeed have a taste for sweets. The rest of his palate she worked at learning, but he seemed happy with her efforts. When he didn't care for a dish, he would let her know and she gladly made him something else. Funny enough, the man would ask for tomato and mayo sandwiches, with just a touch of salt and pepper. Such simple requests from such an interesting man.

It was finally the day she was dreading, her first Sunday family dinner with the Thrombey clan. Fran had gossiped about the family with her while she began preparations. She explained who everyone was, their quirks, and entitlements. She had an asshole rating system that Elizabeth found amusing.

Fran found most of the family intolerable, except Harlan of course. “The top asshole, a number 10, has to be Harlan's grandson, Ransom. But don't call him that, ever. He makes the help call him by his first name, Hugh. He's handsome, for sure, but don't let his face fool you. He is a massive jerk and will charm you, use you up and spit you out like that.” She snapped her fingers and huffed.

“Luckily, he doesn't come to many of these dinners. Not that the rest of them are any easier to deal with. Seriously, they should have their own reality show so the world can see them snarl at each other like a pack of rabid hyenas. I suggest you steer clear of them when you can. These nights can get ROUGH.”

“Duly noted.”

Fran smiled before leaving to set the table. “Good luck tonight. And if you need a little mood stabilizer at the end of the insanity, just let me know. I got you girl.”

---------------

Elizabeth's anxiety increased with every new voice that echoed through the large home. She couldn't hear much of the conversations, but was confident Fran would fill her in if she missed anything juicy. So she continued cooking in peace.

Speak of the devil, the brunette rushed into the kitchen, “Top asshole and Harlan’s mother are m.i.a., but the rest are seated. Tell me the app is ready?” Fran already looked so done with the night.

”Right over there. Description card included.”

“Thank youuuu.” She took the appetizers to deliver to the table.

The family was just as she left them. Sitting proper with fake smiles plastered on their faces, while practically seething at one another.  Fran served the table with an equally forced grin.

Richard scoffed at the bowl. “What the hell is this?”

“Richard!” Linda chastised her husband.

Fran swiftly read from the card, “A roasted butternut and apple soup with ginger and coconut milk.”

Linda took a tentative sip and her eyebrows rose. “I see Rosalee has improved.”

Donna followed her lead, also approving of the soup and the improved quality.

Harlan spoke up, “I'm afraid Rosalee has retired. I've hired someone new.” He sent Fran to ask his new chef to come out, greet his family and serve dinner.

Elizabeth pushed the cart out to the dining area. Feeling like she was walking into shark infested waters wearing a wounded seal suit. All eyes were on her as she entered. Harlan introduced her and asked what she had for them.

“I have for you a herb crusted crown roast of pork with a side of carrots and parsnips in citrus butter.”

“Um, excuse me, hi.” Joni raised her hand, pointing to the offending entrée. “We can't eat that. My Meg and I are vegan. Do you expect me and my daughter to just munch on carrots all night?”

Elizabeth nodded, "I have been informed of your dietary restrictions and made you both something separate.“ She placed the extra meal in front of them. ”Quinoa cakes with a tomato-zucchini and chickpea relish, drizzled with a balsamic glaze. But if you would like the citrus carrots on the side I can get that for you as well."

“Dietary restrictions, my ass. It's not a restriction, it's a mental illness.” Walt began to rant, “You know how you can spot a vegan? Don't worry, they'll tell you. They'll never shut up about it. Those douchebags think they're better than everyone else. They look down on us meat eaters, keep trying to convert us. Well let me tell you, eating meat is my God given right. My right! Don't you realize you can't live without meat. Your brain will die. That's why you are all so miserable, you're slowly dying.”

Donna rubbed her husband's shoulder in approval. While Richard raised his glass in salute to Walt's bullshit. Linda pursed her lips, ignoring them and trying to have a chat with her father.

Joni was on the defense, “We are the healthiest we've ever been. It's good for the planet, the environment, which benefits everyone, need I remind you.” She ignored her brother-in-law's snickering. “Let's be real, veganism is the answer to this world's problems. It is. It's the only moral choice. It clears up your skin and makes you feel good inside and out. And we don't have to feel guilty about contributing to the exploitation and slaughter of innocent lives. Animals are just like us.”

“Just like us?” Walt interjected. “Oh really, should we have dad's dogs sitting at the table with us? I tell ya, if Meg was a boy, I'd be calling DCF because you'd be depriving him of nutrients he needs to grow strong and polluting his male DNA with soy.”

“You're the one with blood on your hands, Walt. All those poor cute animals you've killed….”

Richard scoffed, “You've only been,” he raised his fingers in air quotes, “vegan for a damn month.”

“Ya well, I saw the truth and I'm changing. You'll see it too or die with all those animal products clogging your arteries... Plus it's been two months. Thank you very much.”

“I will happily eat my steak and drink my milkshakes all the way to my grave.”

Joni rolled her eyes, “Uck, you are completely hopeless.”

Walt raised his hand to silence any reply from Richard. “Don't bother. It's not worth fueling her delusions.”

That seemed to put an end to that argument. The rest of the meal went well. Although out of the whole family, only Harlan and Meg said 'thank you.' Not even the young boy spoke up. For being so rich and fancy, they certainly lacked manners.

Dessert was served without incident. Tiramisu and a mini vegan version for Joni and Meg. Harlan seemed to be in heaven, commenting on how rich and decadent it was.

After dinner was over, Elizabeth and Fran began clearing the table. Linda poked her head in, “Elizabeth, may I have a word with you?”

“Was there something wrong with your meal?”

“Oh no, no, dinner was lovely. However, I wanted to make sure you weren't making desserts like that for my dad all the time. He's getting up there in years and has to watch his cholesterol, his sugar intake, blood pressure, things of that nature. He can't be consuming food like you made tonight. He needs to eat healthier. I'd like to keep him around for a long time. I'm sure you can understand.”

“I fully understand, ma'am, but there is no need for concern. The food was chosen because this was a special occasion. It doesn't reflect his daily meals.” Elizabeth noticed Harlan a few feet behind his daughter. He winked at her before alerting her of his presence.

Linda clapped her hands, “Delightful. I'm so glad we have an understanding. I will make you a list of approved meals.” She smiled at her father before walking away.

Once Linda was out of earshot, Harlan leaned close to Elizabeth, “I'm not eating that pigeon food. You put her little list up on the message board in the kitchen and ignore it.”

Elizabeth thought she was safe. The family was dispersing out into the night. She turned on some music and began washing the dishes. Her hips swaying to the beat.

Joni snuck up behind her. “Oh I love this song.” She attempted to dance alongside Elizabeth, bumping their hips together. “Don't be shy. I could tell you recognize me. I get it allll the time now. You're correct, it's me. Owner, CEO, COO and CFO of FLAM.” She continued boasting about being a top influencer and her skin care products while Elizabeth stood there like a deer in the headlights.

An unwelcomed hand reached out to stroke her cheek, “Your skin looks so parched. You could really use a hydrating serum. My company offers the perfect product to help. It's an all organic algae blend that feels like the ocean on your face. So refreshing. And there's a vitamin C serum that will bring some life back to your overworked face.”

“Well let me tell you, FLAM is trending right now, it's going to be huge. You go ahead and follow me on twitter or instagram. I'm offering my first 100 followers a 15% off coupon. That will be available once I find the right graphic designer for my website. Those I interviewed so far just couldn't grasp my vision. This is a lifestyle I'm promoting. I have to trust they get my brand, ya know. But hold onto that coupon, it will be honored. So lovely to meet you, Evelyn.”

“Elizabeth,” she corrected.

“Sure.” Joni made her exit, blowing a kiss.

Fran entered and passed over the joint in her fingers. “It's like the fucking twilight zone isn't it.”

“You weren't kidding.”

The Thrombeys were the most insincere backstabbing piece of crap family she had the displeasure of meeting thus far. She wondered if any of them loved or were loyal to anything but money. Doubtful. Thank goodness she didn’t have to encounter them often.

Chapter 3 

#niffala fics #ransom drysdale angst #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale x ofc

[royalsweetteaa]

Dark!Ransom and innocent reader.

imagine he gets hard again but for the first time he doesn’t hide it. So she notices it and ask him about it. He wants and needs her touch so he acts like he is hurt and needs a special massage.

Ofc she wants to help him and he teaches her how to give a hand job (make it seem like a massage) 🥵

Title: A little help

Dark!Best friend!Ransom Drysdale x naive!innocent!reader

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

WARNING - The following fic contains: Explicit smut/DUB-CON, power imbalance, abuse of innocence, childhood best friends AU, manipulation, soft!dark!Ransom, possessive/obsessive!Ransom, mentions of virginity, virginity kink, oral sex (M receiving), dirty talk, dirty thoughts, slight degradation, praising, use of petname (missy, darling), Ransom is a pervert.

Summary: Ransom decides to use his best friend’s naivety and innocence when he can’t hold himself back from desiring her anymore.

3rd person POV

For the longest time Ransom can remember, he has always had a major crush on his childhood best friend, - Y/N L/N. He had managed to suppress it for the longest time, - through primary school, middle school, high school and currently college - the last being the brink of breaking his resolution.

His heart couldn’t take it anymore witnessing his darling gaining more male attention as years went by. She would be approached by guys sometimes here and there, but Ransom always successfully managed to scare them away with his death glare alone. He had loved her since before she flourished into the beautiful lady she had become, and he didn’t think anyone would ever deserve loving only a piece of something that goes beyond her as a person.

He is the only one to know her to the fullest, he had told himself. He was there from when they were kids, playing house in the backyard, to when they finally graduated high school and he took her first kiss accidentally while they were drunk in his newly bought beemer, - his graduation present.

He wasn’t drunk though.

They had shared sweet moments that could never compare to anything she could possibly share with another potential partner, and that was why he had decided he would try winning her heart beyond their hard bonded friendship. To try breaking their friendship in a way that works in both favors.

He wants her feel those tingles whenever she saw him instead of the usual pure excitement. He wants her to want him as much as he wants her.

One time on a nice Friday evening when she was at his apartment for a movie night, he decided to walk around with his sweater off, - his excuse being that he was feeling ‘too hot’. No knowledge to her, it was all about teasing and attracting her to him.

He wanted to know if his body could awake subtle reactions from her, and to his delight it did. In the corner of Ransom’s eye, while he settled down on the couch beside her again, he could see her widened eyes wandering, with her thighs subconsciously rubbing against each other. He smirked, pretending he was finding something amusing on the TV screen, but in his head he had confirmed something.

She is sexually attracted to me.

I have a chance.

After a brief silence between the two, he had wanted to break it, but Y/N beat him to it.

“Ransom…” she murmured his name, audibly enough to catch his attention, though it had never left her anyway. He turned his head, curious to hear what she had to say.

Her eyes wandered a bit once more with furrowed eyebrows, as if she was dealing with conflicting thoughts or trying to find the right words.

“I just realized…you’ve grown to be a very pretty man, you know that right?”

Ransom was left with his lips parted, surprised to be hearing that of all the things she could have said.

But actually no. He wasn’t too surprised, - far from it the more he rethought it.

Because she was not like any other girl he had hooked up with previously when he had tried to suppress his feelings for his best friend. She was not like the ones who would call him smoking hot and sexy whenever he stripped in front of them and was ready to have them make his dick wet.

No, she was far too pure for that.

‘Pretty man’, - so innocent and simple. That was enough for him to know he had to make her become his. He had always fantasized about it, but now it was a matter of making it a reality.

The thought of letting her go to someone else - to have someone else take her innocence to their self pleasure made him see red. Ransom could not allow that. He could never bear it.

Ransom thanked her for the compliment and excused himself after as he felt he was growing hard, his large bulge becoming visible through his pants. He had to wank one off in the bathroom as he had his thoughts surrounded of her. Imagining his cock between those plump lips of hers was enough to make him cum so quickly.

“Fuck, Y/N…my darling….” he muttered her name, adding her petname through a moan as he was cumming and wasting his load into the toilet water.

Ransom had to reassure himself that one day he would not waste it, - that it would instead be all for her to drink and be stuffed full of. He was looking forward to when that time would come.

Time passed by quickly and it was another Friday movie night, this time at hers.

Her place of which if anything were to go wrong, she would have nowhere to go.

They were getting into one of Y/N’s favorites, - ‘Titanic’. Ransom decided he would put his perverted plan of the night in action again halfway through the movie, though this one was beyond simply exposing his chest.

Ransom made himself think of the dirtiest things, - how it would be to have a taste of her with her thighs spread wide open as he ravaged her. How it would be to slip his fingers into her cute, slippery wet cunt as he witnessed her face fall apart from pleasure. How it would be if she put his hands on him, - oh, how he was craving her touch so bad.

His grin turned wicked when he felt himself growing hard under his pants. He spread his legs wider, practically displaying his boner as he pulled an uncomfortable frown and groaned. His knee bumped into Y/N’s, which was when she looked down unbothered only to notice his massive tent, almost poking out through his trousers.

Her eyes widened with surprise, leaving her speechless when Ransom had caught her looking. “Uh, Ransom…you’re…um…”

Ransom’s eyes trailed down to where Y/N was firmly staring at and shrugged casually, “Oh yeah, it’s been bugging me all day. Been hard and it fucking hurts…”

“Hurts?” She asked, her tone of worry now, and Ransom swore he could have busted a nut with how her doe eyes were staring at him with her lips parted.

“Yeah, darling…it hurts cause my dick’s hard as a rock and I’m not able to relieve myself…it strains me and because of that I’m in pain.” Ransom almost whined, his eyebrows knitted as if sharing this piece of experience was painful in itself. He palmed his bulge, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“Oh…” Y/N responded, bewildered and a bit embarrassed she hadn’t known of this. “That sounds terrible…maybe we should call a doctor?”

“Missy, the doctor’s not going to be able to help me with this at 09:30 PM…” Ransom said in midst of laughing. “It’s not how it works anyway…I need something that can…stimulate me,…you know, like a massage. But my own hand doesn’t work. It’s like how it doesn’t feel as good to scratch your own back as when somebody else does it for you. It just feels better and makes me loosen up...” Ransom explained carefully.

There was a brief silence where Y/N was biting her lip as if she was thinking thoroughly about what to say next. It didn’t take long until she met his gaze again.

“Do you…want me to help you, Ran? I can give you a massage if you need it…”

And he had her exactly where he wanted her.

His face lit up innocently, but it was all pretend. “You’d really do that for me, darling?”

“Yes, I don’t want you to hurt anymore…- but I don’t know how to help without it being weird between us….it would be out of place if we were to…you know…do ‘inappropriate things’…no?”

Ransom was aware Y/N knew what sex was. Everyone had went through sex eduction after all. However, to his advantage she had no clue about male anatomy. He could say his cum is a good recourse of protein and she would probably believe it. But while it was tempting to convince her to have her use her mouth this evening, he knew for her sake that it would be best to take it slow.

“It won’t be weird, missy…it’s just a ‘special massage’, nothing else…- what, were you thinking of sex? Is that where your head’s at?”

“No! No, no, no, I-I just…I didn’t think…” she was stumbling with her words at this point, her cheeks flushed as she looked to the side while Ransom began to unzip his pants.

“Hm, your mind is dirtier than I thought. Helping your best friend feel better from being uncomfortable isn’t sex. You’re a dumb baby for assuming that’s how it works.”

Y/N’s face scrunched, growing more embarrassed as Ransom taunted her innocence. “I’m sorry, I swear I didn’t know…” she then inched closer to him, ready to give him a helping hand like she always do.

Ransom swore he could feel his heart skip a few beats as his eyes followed her hand, reaching out for his cock. He couldn’t believe this was actually happening, but then again Ransom always got what he wanted.

He could sense Y/N’s hesitance as she placed her hand beneath his cock, on his pants. He snickered while reaching for her shoulder to pat with reassurance.

“Go on, don’t be shy…” Ransom purred as he rested his arms on the sofa cushions. “I trust you. Don’t you trust me, missy?”

She looked up at him once again, nodding with a timid smile before her fingertips reached over to wrap around his shaft, making him groan.

“That’s it…grab firmly around the base and keep motioning it up and down to the tip..” he instructed, his breathing already turning irregular with each stroke Y/N did. Her hand was so soft, and what made him feel all the more aroused was facing with the fact that it was hers. Her delicate hand working on his cock, something he has dreamed of for so long.

“Am I doing a good job, Ran? Is the pain going away?” Y/N asked innocently, her face with complete concentration on doing her given task.

“You’re doing amazing, darling…fuck, you’re making me feel so good too. Such a good girl you are..” he rasped his praise to her. Ransom’s eyes were clouded with lust as he stared back at her. He took a quick peek at her breasts, which with her current crouched position were being squished together, defining their round forms better. He let out a sharp gasp for air as he shut his eyes again, concentrating on not cumming too quick.

“Fuck, if you could just…fondle my balls with your other hand, - the pain will go away faster…”

Y/N immediately followed through with his next demand, cupping his heavy balls while she stroked his length, pre-cum dripping heavily.

Y/N’s breathing was growing shallow, her face flushed as her eyes didn’t stop staring down his cock with fascination. How big and veiny he was. She was practically drooling at the sight as it throbbed for each thrust, pulsing for more.

She had denied being a virgin once when Ransom had asked about it, but with the way she was looking at his cock, he could tell she probably still was but was too embarrassed to admit it back then.

He preferred thinking of it that way anyway. He should be the first to enter her little cute pussy when the time was right after all. Only him.

“Go faster, darling…ngh I’m so close…so close to feeling better.” Ransom moaned while gripping the sofa cushions. Y/N bit her lip at his response and eagerly used both of her hands to stroke him faster.

It was too much for him. He had craved her touch for so long, and now that he was getting his craving, he was becoming overwhelmed. With her, he had turned into a horny teenager again. It couldn’t be helped.

Ransom threw his head back as he announced his climax, “Fuck! Shit! M’gonna…!” and with that, his cum spurted out while his hips rocked upwards, the substance mostly splattering on Y/N’s hand making her yelp in surprise. His cock became glazed with his load, making it look even more tasty for Y/N.

Y/N didn’t know why she was feeling so needy and hot by the sight of it. She only knew it felt good.

She witnessed his cock softening, and to that she was convinced she had successfully helped her best friend make ‘his pain’ go away. She looked at him in the eye, hoping he could confirm.

When his breathing became regular again, he raised his head up again to look at her and smiled proudly.

Ransom quickly tucked his cock back in his pants and wiped her hand from the spurts that had got her with the use of a napkin as he gave her a kiss on her cheek, before pulling her into his embrace, “Mmh, my dear best friend…you did such a good job of making my pain go away. I can always count on you.”

They stopped paying much attention to the movie playing in front of them as they cuddled, and Ransom was already planning in his head for next week’s movie night. He couldn’t wait.

A/N: Thank you anon for sparking me with some inspiration! This was very enjoyable to write!

Hearts & Reblogs are always appreciated! <3

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #ransom drydale x you #ransom drysdale x y/n #ransom x y/n #ransom x reader #ransom x you #chris evans characters #chris evans #chris evans x reader

[nekoannie-chan]

Week 9 Reblog Masterlist

Welcome to Week 9 2024 or Week 217, as always, fics would be listed in the order I read them.

I hope you enjoy it!

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

♥ You can check my reading guidelines here.

♥ You can check my masterlist here.

♥ You can check my main reblog masterlist 2024 here.

♥ You can check my February reblog masterlist 2024 here.

♥ You can check my March reblog masterlist 2024 here.

♥ You can check Week 8 2024 here.

♥ You can check Week 10 2024 here.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

𝙺𝚎𝚢𝚜: 💛 ᵒʳᶤᵍᶤᶰᵃˡ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ

💜 ʰᵒʳʳᵒʳ

🖤 ᵈᵃʳᵏ

❤️ ˢᵐᵘᵗ

💚 ᶠˡᵘᶠᶠ

💙 ᵃᶰᵍˢᵗ

🧡 ᶜᵒᵐᵉᵈʸ

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

This is the list of the fics I read and recommend in Week 9 2024:

Take my breath away Dark!(Steve Rogers X Reader) by @chxrryhansen 🖤❤️

I'm so, so... sorry (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @ronearoundblindly ❤️

Too late (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @imtryingbuck 💙

Your mark on me part 6 (Steve Rogers X OFC) by @georgiapeach30513❤️

You promised (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @imtryingbuck💙

Happy birthday (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @downbadf0rficppl❤️

Apologies (Logan Howlett X Reader) by @jbreenr❤️

Your mark on me part 7 (Steve Rogers X OFC) by @georgiapeach30513❤️

Short-eyes (Logan Howlett X Reader) by @multific💚

Fic (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @hansensgirl❤️

The Ransomizer (Ransom Drysdale X Reader) by @ronearoundblindly❤️

Your mark on me part 8 (Steve Rogers X OFC) by @georgiapeach30513❤️

Listen (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @nicoline1998enilocin💚

Go on your own way (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @buckysburdens💙 💚

The Gemini part 2 (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @rogersideup💚

Your mark on me part 9 (Steve Rogers X OFC) by @georgiapeach30513❤️

Hate you part 1 (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @scifinerd1818❤️

The Demigood on Earth (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @secretswiftymarvelfan💚

A dark day and a bright night (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @ronearoundblindly💚

Your mark on me part 10 (Steve Rogers X OFC) by @georgiapeach30513❤️

Hide out part 1 (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @ronearoundblindly💚

That's my girl part 2 (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @callmissrogers💚

Dynamo part 6 (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @emwritesstuff❤️

Your mark on me part 11 (Steve Rogers X OFC) by @georgiapeach30513❤️

Teacher's pet (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @stevierogersbabygirl❤️

Fic (Steve Rogers X Reader) by @chxrryhansen❤️

More than one Valentine (Stucky x reader) by @stuckysbike ❤️

Your mark on me part 12 (Steve Rogers X OFC) by @georgiapeach30513❤️

#Annie recommends #week 9 reblog masterlist #february reblog masterlist #march reblog masterlist