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#soft ransom drysdale
sagechanoafterdark · a day ago
Shared Nightmares
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Pairing: Ransom x Reader (Marshmallow) Word Count: 934 Warnings: none, softness, maybe a little bit of angst, but mostly soft domestic Ransom Request: @thefallenbibliophilequote asked, “Ooo umm can you do 99 (Can I give you a hug? You look upset.) with Ransom? 🖤🖤🖤” and Anonymous asked, “Will you do number 41 (Let me see your scars…) with Ransom x Marshmallow because I love that pair so much?” Note: This is the first one for this weekend. The next ones got away from me and I need them beta'd before I feel comfortable posting. But have a glimpse into the future for Ransom and Marshmallow from my story Held for Ransom.
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Ransom woke with a start, your name gasped on his lips and reached out for the ghost of you. Chest heaving slightly he looked around the room, dark in late hours of the night but his eyes squinted finding you laying beside him, hand curled to your chest with deep even breaths.
Huffing out a sigh he ran a trembling hand through his hair, the adrenaline from his nightmare coursing through him and making his heart hammer. More than a year later and precious sleep was still being stolen from him after that day in the parking garage.
Scoffing at himself he slid from the bed, wandering towards the kitchen for a glass of water. Quietly he pulled down a glass and filled it from the tap, downing it in a few gulps before doing it again. His shoulders hunched, fingers lifting the edge of his shirt running over the scarred flesh.
It all felt so real again.
Knocking you out of the way, the knife slipping in.
Only in his dream, the assailant didn’t run away, he turned on you. Lifting the knife to strike you down as you crouched over him with tears in your pretty eyes.
“Ransom,” you asked sleepily from the door to the kitchen rubbing at your eyes, standing in a Harvard shirt he’s pretty sure he remembered you buying freshman year. “What’s going on? It's nearly three in the morning.”
“Go back to bed, kitten,” he husked, setting the glass in the sink.
“Kitten? Well, now I know something's wrong,” you said, flicking the light on. The two of you wincing at the bright light, you blinked heavily looking over at him and catching his red-rimmed eyes and slightly puffy face. “Are you crying?”
“Drop it.”
“No Ransom, what happened?”
He was quiet, his jaw clenching as he turned away from you, muttering so low under his breath you had a hard time hearing, “I had that dream again.”
You breathed his name out with a sigh.
“Turn the god damn light off,” he snapped, staring at a fixed point on the counter. Flinching when you shut the light off but didn’t leave him. Ransom squeezed his eyes shut, but doing so made the image of you standing over him appear again and the residual fear well up in his chest once more.
“Can I hug you?”
“Wh-What?” Your question took him by surprise, his head snapping over to where you stood mostly silhouetted by the nightlight in the hallway.
“Can I give you a hug? You look upset, Ransom and I want to hug you.”
He tisked, turning towards you and holding his arms out slightly inviting you closer. The two of you winding your arms around one another in the quiet of the kitchen, pressing his stiff body against your own and just waiting.
Muscle memory had told him to stiffen up, resist as much as possible and make it get over quickly. But Ransom wasn’t as closed off anymore, he wasn’t the same, not after a year with you.
Now Ransom could openly marvel at how perfectly you fit against him, your soft curves melding to the hard outline of his own body. He sunk into your embrace, feeling your hands slide higher on his shoulders, cheek resting against his shoulder, and warm breath caress over his neck with a sigh.
He was reluctant to admit it aloud, but hugging you always felt good. Soothing a part of him he'd never realized needed comforting before. Slowly your hands began to stroke up and down his back and the t-shirt he wore, long smooth soothing caresses that had his guard dropping and his entire body relaxing with you. Soon enough he let out a deep breath, signing into your hair out of reflex.
He hummed slightly, as you slid from his arms. “Let me see your scar,” you whispered, your warm fingers tugging at the edge of his shirt. Lifting it slowly your fingers found the slightly puckered skin, forefinger running along the long incision.
“You’re not the only one who has nightmares about this Ransom. I think about this day a lot,” you whispered, biting your bottom lip, “How I almost lost you. How if anything had been different you wouldn’t have been hurt. Maybe you wouldn’t have been so angry or if I’d just waited and told you I’d seen the book then it-it wouldn’t have happened," sucking in a pained breath your thumb skirted along his skin. "But if it didn’t happen, we wouldn't...”
“But we wouldn’t be here,” he rumbled. Your gaze flicked up to him, hand trailing over his hip briefly, thumb tracing lightly over the flesh. “I wouldn’t be here with you right now. We wouldn't be living together and we certainly wouldn't be engaged.”
Ransom's blue eyes seemed to glow in the limited light of your kitchen, staring back into your own and flitting over your face. “No,” you whispered. “I suppose not.”
“I’m glad that it happened.”
The smallest of laughs bubbled up from you, before cocking your head to the side, “What a strange thing to be happy about Ransom. Getting stabbed.”
"I'm serious," he mumbled, lips pressed against your forehead briefly as he pulled you closer. “If it means I get to kiss you,” he rumbled, leaning in and pressing a brief kiss to your lips. "And if it means I get tended to by Nurse Marshmallow again, maybe get you a tight little outfit this time, I'll gladly take the hit."
You hummed, leaning up and kissing him briefly with a light lip smack before smirking up your soon-to-be husband, “Don’t push your luck.”
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reformedmeanestgirl · 3 days ago
‘Tis The Damn Season
(sneak peak)
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Pairings: Ransom Drysdale x Actress!Reader (high school sweethearts)
Warnings: cursing, angst, flashbacks, slight mention of death, drinking, cuddling (if that’s considered a warning?).
Word Count: 400+
Based on: ‘Tis the Damn Season by Taylor Swift
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If I wanted to know who you were hanging with, while I was gone, I would’ve asked you.
“I can’t believe they make us do this every year.” Beth’s voice was a near whisper over the background music.
Every holiday season, your high school friend group liked to set up a holiday “get together.” It ideally consisted of a group of about thirty of you, a small number in the large class you graduated with. Over the years, the group diminished. Some moved away, some got married, had kids, some even died. You tried to come back, hell, you all promised the day of graduation that you’d try. But, about five years ago, you moved out to Los Angeles on a hunch that it would kickstart your acting career.
And that it did.
You remember the look on Ransom’s face when you told him you were moving.
“So.. Berkeley will let me transfer all of my credits so I can graduate on time,” you mumbled, limbs tangled with Ransom’s as you laid on the floor of the Thrombey estate, in front of a crackling fire that he’d, surprisingly, started all by himself.
The amber glow of the flames illuminating the hurt in his eyes, the blue hue radiating one of sadness, rather than the joy it normally did when he was around you. One sip from the glass of stolen bourbon, an exhale, and he was finally ready to speak.
“That’ll be good for you, peach.” His voice was sad. Was he, Hugh Ransom Drysdale, sad? For you? “I have no doubt you’ll, uh.. you’ll do great.”
“I’ll help you pack.”
But, he didn’t. He didn’t even come to say goodbye the night before you left. He dodged your texts, your phone calls. He even ignored you banging on his front door at three in the morning, begging to talk before you left.
Why was he so upset? You weren’t together. He made that abundantly clear. The two of you had been fuck buddies since you were about fifteen. He never wanted to make it any more than that.
So when you first made eye contact with the sweater clad playboy on December 24th, you felt your heart drop. It had been five years. Five fucking years since he’d seen you. And god, you looked perfect. Your hair styled to perfection, skin glowing with a radiance only the California sun could provide. He’d seen you in movies, of course. He’d seen you dating some of the most eligible men in Hollywood. And he hated every moment of it.
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header made by @firefly-graphics xx
Hope y’all enjoyed this lil preview of an upcoming one shot!
I already have Family Values starting and part one will be up either tonight or tomorrow soooo, be on the lookout for that!
As always thanks for reading and ily x
- Jo 🪐
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twoghostsfromeden · 4 days ago
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Jealousy, Jealousy
Ransom Drysdale x Famous!Reader
Word Count: 1.3k
Summary: Ransom shows you that you're not alone.
Warnings: y/n is a brat im so sorry, mentions of alcohol and weed, slightly soft ransom?? Pretend like "Knives Out" never happened,
A/N: This is my eighth prompt for ‘Sour’
Nepotism Babies in Hollywood.
It's sickening.
You stand in the corner of the party, your eyes following a group of girls who have never worked hard a day in their lives. They're only here because their parents were lucky enough to be famous, meaning their children are automatically famous.
Nepotism. You'll never understand it.
You're here because you worked hard to be where you are, at the top of Hollywood. You've acted in several movies, all grossing more than $2 million.
"Y/n, what are you doing here?" You hear a voice call out. You turn to face the voice, your eyes rolling back in their sockets.
Ransom Drysdale. The biggest nepotism baby of all times. He's only at this party because his grandfather runs a huge publishing company. You chug down the glass of tequila in your hand, preparing yourself for this conversation. You don't know Ransom that well, having only spoken to him a handful of times, but you've heard from several people that he's an asshole.
"I'm here because I earned it," You snarl, suddenly feeling anger toward the innocent man. What does he mean, what are you doing here? You belong here, you might be the only person here that actually belongs here.
Ransom chuckles, raising an eyebrow. "Care to elaborate?" He asks, standing next to you. Your head is filled with the smell of his cologne, along with the faint smell of weed.
You inhale the smell, suddenly wishing you were the one that had been smoking. "You wouldn't understand," You mutter, barely audible over the music filling the room.
Ransom nudges your arm with his elbow, a smirk growing on his face. "Try me,"
You look up at him, rolling your eyes as you give in. "Fine. Look at everyone in this room. What do they all have in common?" You ask him. He looks around the room, peering over his glass. Once he's done, he looks back at you.
"They're all incredibly good-looking," He jokes, causing you to groan. "See? I knew you wouldn't take it seriously," You say, trying to block out the sound of Ransom laughing.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," He laughs, leaning against the wall. You sigh, fixing your eyes one on girl in particular.
"Take Kendall, for example. She's only famous because her mother married Robert Kardashian. She's literally only famous because someone murdered someone else." You say, your annoyance growing.
Ransom smiles at you, his eyebrow raised once again. "And what does that have to do with you?" He asks. He's closer now, hovering over you. You look up at him, shrugging your shoulders.
Maybe you're being dramatic, but you can't help it. You left home at 16 to move across the country, that's how bad you wanted to be an actress. There were many nights you went hungry, using all of the money you had to land more roles.
The majority of Hollywood will never experience that.
"Nothing. It's just hard to see everyone else having it so easy. While I'm working hard for my fame, most of the nepotism babies are on vacation. They all make money because their bodies are perfect. More power to them, I guess," you say, muttering the last part.
You never want to come across as a bitter woman, you believe in woman lifting up other women. But that doesn't mean you can't be frustrated at the system.
Ransom playfully puts an arm around you, pulling you closer to him. The action doesn't make you uncomfortable at all. If anything, it relaxes you. "What do you say we get out of here?" He asks.
You pull away from him, furrowing your eyebrows. "Seriously? I pour my heart out to you and you try to get in my pants?" You ask, disgusted.
Ransom rolls his eyes, placing his cup on a nearby table. "No, y/n. Believe it or not, I actually want to show you something," He says. You stare at him, trying to spot any trace of mischievous intentions.
When you don't see any, you give in, taking his extended hand. You allow him to lead you through the crowd, wondering where he's taking you. He's been surprisingly pleasant during your conversation, you don't want him to screw it up.
He leads you out to where he's parked, his fancy car. "Are you seriously rubbing your fancy car in my face?" You ask, watching him as he opens the passenger door.
"No," He says, motioning for you to get in the car. You stare at him, not moving a muscle. Ransom sighs, stomping his foot like a little child. "Just get in the car," He orders.
You give in, not wanting to argue. You sit in the leather seat, the cold leather cooling down your warm thighs. Ransom gets in the driver's seat, instantly starting up the car. The radio comes on, the car filling up with the sound of a song you would bet was on 50 shades of grey.
You resist the urge to roll your eyes as he pulls away from the party, driving down the road. The night sky is clear, except for the few blinking lights overhead. Ransom hums the song, his hand on the gearstick.
"You're not going to kill me, are you?" You ask, your voice cutting through the silence. Ransom chuckles, his eyes straight ahead. "No, thanks. I don't want to go to jail for killing the hottest actress in Hollywood right now,"
You blush at his confession, your eyes dropping to your lap. You ride in silence for the rest of the way, until you're parked in front of a rundown apartment complex.
You glance over at Ransom, your eyebrows furrowed. "Okay, I'm seriously starting to think that you're going to kill me," You say.
Ransom doesn't smile, not even chuckling quietly. You swallow the lump in your throat, looking back at the complex. "I know you think I'm just a spoiled brat who was handed everything he ever wanted," Ransom starts.
You keep your mouth shut, not wanting to interrupt. He's right, everyone thinks he's a spoiled brat.
"But that's not true. As soon as I turned 18, my family kicked me out. Said they wanted me to fend for myself," He mutters, clearing his throat.
You want to reach out to touch his hand so badly, you've never seen him like this before. If the car wasn't dark, you could've sworn you saw a tear run down his cheek.
"I bounced from couch to couch for a while, before saving up enough money to rent an apartment here. It took everything I had to pay the rent, so there were some nights I didn't eat," He tells you. His voice is shaky now, you can't resist any longer.
You reach out to touch his hand, your thumb rubbing the skin lightly. "Ran, you don't have to tell me this," You say, the nickname rolling off of your tongue.
He glances over at you, a soft smile on his lips. "I just want you to know that you're not alone. Not everyone had everything handed to them." He explains.
You practically shrink back in your seat, embarrassed by the way you had been acting. You have no right to judge, you don't know anyone's story. You certainly wouldn't' have expected this from him.
"My grandpa saw how hard I had been working and invited me to work with him at the publishing company. I was able to work my way up to the top from there,"
Ransom moves his hand, his now on top of yours. He holds your hand, his eyes focused on you. "I didn't mean to judge," You say, your voice barely above a whisper.
Without hesitation, Ransom brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the skin. You blush at the action, liking this side of him.
Maybe he's not such an asshole after all.
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jadegrey711 · 4 days ago
I Can’t Get No...
Ransom Drysdale x Fem!Reader
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A/N; Hello everyone! So this is my second addition for @stargazingfangirl18​ 5k writing challenge! I got this idea after watching a new Netflix show I immediately had this idea for any number of Chris Evan’s characters, but I thought Ransom suited it best. I really hope I did my own idea justice lmao. I want to see if you guys can guess what song the title is based off of! I thought I was very clever lol. 
If you like my stories you can check out my sideblog @jadegreywriting​​​ to see all of them and my masterlist without filtering through my main blog.
Word Count: 2673
This story is for 18+ ONLY. It contains sexual themes that are not suited for younger audiences so if you’re under 18 my blog and this story is not for you. Please make sure to read at your own discretion and remember that you are solely responsible for your content intake. 
Warnings: Dub-con, masturbation (fem), Vaginal fingering, mentions of breeding kink.
I own all rights to this story and do not give permission for my stories to be published, translated or reposted anywhere else. The only places I have published my stories is here on Tumblr and on my AO3 account (LadyAuthor711)
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“I fucking hate him.” I mumbled to yourself, almost as a reminder as your mind drifted back to those blue eyes and cocky mouth as he’d whisper dirty things in your ear. 
“Stop.” you whispered again, shaking your head to clear the image of his plump lips leaning towards yours as you furiously rubbed your clit, desperately trying to come. But, you just couldn’t shake the image of him trailing those sinful kisses down your body and the way his eyes darken as he positioned himself in between your legs, placing soft kisses on your inner thigh before he brought you to complete ecstasy.
“Fuck!” You shouted, pulling your hands from between your legs.
You almost felt like crying with how badly you had wanted to come to get some sort of relief but it seemed like your body just wouldn’t let you. Not without thinking about Ransom, even when you were with other people you still couldn’t get off; not without thinking about him. And you refused to give into those sweet daydreams now matter how much you wanted to.
It’s not like you didn’t try, for five months after your breakup with Ransom, you had revenge sex with multiple different partners, but all of those encounters ended the same way. With your partner finishing and your body betraying you, with the constant reminder that Ransom owned this body and nobody could make it sing like him.
You wouldn’t give in though, even if it meant you could never get off again; you were done with Ransom and all of the crap that came with him. You vowed you’d never go back to him, no matter what your body had to say on the matter. Because you knew that if you did give into that temptation that was Ransom Drysdale and go back to him, there’d be no escaping him this time.
Ransom let you walk out this time, but he’d soon realize that losing you would be like losing one of his many toys and if you were ever to go back to him. He’d do anything and everything in his power to make sure that next time there would be no escaping him. Ransom wasn’t the kind of person who took kindly to others having his toys and you were by far, his favorite one.
The image of Ransom tying you to the bed in the heat of an argument and keeping you there so he can fuck the argument out of you, flooded your mind and you felt your nipples hardened. Before you quickly shooed the image out of your mind, and tried to have some semblance of sleep.
*** The next morning as you walked out of the elevator out onto the floor of Blood Like Wine Publishing, already feeling grouchy but there was also a modicum of tension in the air.
The interns were running around like chickens without their heads and others in the office were whispering to each other in hushed tones.
“I didn’t even know he knew where the publishing house was at.”
“Surely he’s not here to actually work.”
“He must have gotten in trouble with mommy and daddy again.”
The more whispers you heard the more your heart started to pound in your chest as you walked further into the publishing house.
“No, he wouldn’t stoop this low.” You thought to yourself, shaking your head. “It’s been five months, he wouldn’t pull a stunt like this now.” But as you neared closer and closer to your office you saw that the door was wide open and you heard laughter coming from in there.
“He fucking didn’t” You hissed, and walked into your office to find your boss and Ransom sitting on the edge of your desk; laughing with each other about some joke.
“Y/N!” Your boss greeted you cheerfully. “Just the woman we’ve been waiting to see.”
You stared directly at your boss not even sparing Ransom a glance in his direction and tried to plaster on your brightest “at work” smile, even though they could probably smell the panic that was coming off of you.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Perkins?”
“As you might have already guessed, we have a special guest with us today. I don’t think I need to introduce you two.” Mr. Perkins said with a knowing smile, making your eyes narrow at the thought that their earlier joke was probably about you.
“Yes, Mr. Drysdale. What made you grace our presence today.” You seethed not caring about hiding any ounce of venom behind your voice.
“Mr.Drysdale has decided that he’s going to become part of the Blood Like Wine family!” Mr. Perkins said excitedly and you felt your heart drop.
Before you could say anything Ransom chimed in. “That’s right. I’ve decided it’s time for me to be more a part of the family’s legacy and really push up my sleeves and be a part of this company.”
You had to stifle the psychotic laugh that threatened to burst through your lips at the idea of Ransom working for a living let alone carrying out the family’s legacy. He hated his family.
“Indeed a noble action.” Mr. Perkins said wistfully. “Anyways the reason why we are here in your office is I thought you could show Mr. Drysdale around the office and help him get settled in here since you both are already acquainted with each other.” And then he did it again. Mr. Perkins threw Ransom that knowing look and you swear you could have throttled the fucker right there.
You ground your teeth but nodded trying to put on a professional smile but you didn’t think anyone was buying, especially not Ransom.
“Alright, good. Now I’ve got to get back to work, it’s all busy, busy around here.” Mr.Perkins but this time you didn’t return it.
“Thank you again Mr. Perkins for taking time out of your busy schedule. To help me settle in.”
“Of course, Mr. Drysdale.”
“Please. Call me Hugh.” Ransom smiled sweetly.
“Alright Hugh.” And with that Mr. Perkins left your office.
You quickly looked down the hallway as Mr. Perkins went into his office and then closed your office door and looked at Ransom.
“What the actual fuck are you doing here? This is a new kind of twisted. Showing up at my job Ransom?”
He smiled at you and got off of your desk. “It’s nice to see you again, Y/N.”
“Cut the bullshit Ransom. What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I mean this is my family’s business isn’t it? I’m certainly not going into fucking real estate with my mother.” He said the last word with a sneer, but then quickly replaced it with that cocky smirk. “I just thought it was time I started being a part of this company. I wanted the CEO position, unfortunately this is the best they could do on such short notice but I’m sure by next quarter I’ll have that CEO position.” He smiled,  his glacier eyes meeting yours. “And maybe I just wanted to see you.”
“Is everything a fucking game to you?” You asked incredulously.
“Yes.” He said the word like a growl.
“What do you think you’re going to win in this little game you’re playing, Ransom?”
You let out a small chuckle. “That’s never going to fucking happen. You can drop dead first.”
You watched Ransom’s jaw twitch. “I’ve given you space for five months, Y/N.”
You felt your whole body fill with pent up rage as you scoffed. “You gave me space? I fucking left you Ransom!”
Ransom’s face hardened into something serious as he pushed off from the desk and walked closer to you. “I want you back. You’re mine and you know it.”
“Fuck off Ransom. In fact get the fuck out of my office.” You hissed at him and pointed towards the door.
His cold eyes scanned down your body, paying particular attention to your rising chest as your breathing became heavier.
Ransom’s eyes held a calculating coldness to them as he spoke. “I can make your life very hard here, Y/N. I know how hard you’ve worked to get where you are in the company. It would be such a shame if you’d lose that position that you’ve worked so hard for; just from a small phone call from me to your boss.” Ransom let out a soft sigh, running his hand through his hair. “It would be a lot easier on both of us if you just came back to me.”
You let out an incredulous laugh. “You threaten my position in this company, my livelihood and then expect me to just come crawling back to you?” You shook your head furiously. “It doesn’t matter what you threaten me with Ransom. I will never come back to you! I won’t go back to being treated like a piece of shit, like a damn afterthought or something you can just use as you wish.”
You let out a shaky breath, feeling the sting of tears come to your eyes as you thought back to how your relationship with Ransom was. “I won’t put my heart on the chopping block again for you.”
Ransom’s cold expression softened as he took in your words, once again moving towards you. But you walked around him so that now he was close to the door and you were close to the desk.
“I know it wasn’t the best but fuck I need you, Y/N. You make my life mean something, I promise that I’ve changed for the better.”
You let out a laugh. “Changed? You couldn’t have possibly changed in these five months if you’re threatening to get me fired so I’ll go back to you.”  
“You’re the reason I changed, Y/N. When you left me-” he paused, choosing his next words wisely. “When you left me, I only realized then just how much you meant to me. How much I needed you in my life. And I just let you slip through my fingers.”
“Cut the shit Ransom. I know you, and I know your games. That whole ‘I’m the reason you changed’ act may work on some other foolish girl but not me. You’re incapable of change but you are a half decent actor. I’ll give you that.” You sat at the front of your desk and laughed. “It’s really too bad that you came to this whole “realization” five months too late. Cuz’ while you were coming to this realization; I’ve already moved on and there certainly hasn’t been a shortage of lacking partners.”
You knew you fucked up as soon as you said it. But Ransom had always brought out the pettier version of you. However, you should have kept your mouth shut, as you watched Ransom’s handsome face contorted with anger, those cold indifferent glacier eyes darkened.
Before you could react, Ransom was on you, his strong arms caging you to the desk, his body already between your legs keeping you pinned there entirely. His breathing was as heavy as your own as you met his eyes, daring him to do something. You watched as Ransom leaned closer into your body, his nose brushing the side of your neck inhaling your scent before placing a soft kiss to the hollow behind your ear and you could already feel how wet you were for him.
“I’ve really missed you baby.” he whispered in your ear and continued laddening your neck with soft kisses. You bit your lip harshly to try and keep the obvious moans from escaping past your lips.
You refused to give in to him no matter how good his kisses felt, how good it felt to be touched again. No matter how much your body carved his touch. “I don’t miss you.” you hissed, but even Ransom knew there was no real anger in your voice now; not with how he was sucking your neck, marking you as his again.
“Oh yeah? Let’s see what your sweet pussy has to say about that, darling.” His touch was rougher as he grabbed the edge of your skirt trying to lift it up your legs.
“Ransom no!” You cried, trying to grab your hem and fight it from his hand but his other hand simply grabbed both of yours and held your hands in place as he pushed your skirt up enough so he now had full access to your throbbing pussy. You tried to clench your thighs together to keep his hands away but it was no use with his body in between your legs and pushed so close to yours.
You bit your lip and you knew Ransom could feel how wet you were, as he cupped your mound, how you were throbbing against his hand.
A shit eating grin spread across Ransom’s face as his fingers slid between your folds causing you to gasp. Ransom tsked at you. “Who’s the actress now, darling?” he leaned in to steal a kiss from your lips and you let him.
Let him deepen it and sweep his tongue across yours, as his fingers rubbed against your folds, earning a low moan from you. “Let me have you sweetheart. Tell me you’re mine.” he whispered sweetly, as his thumb traced over your clit and you let out a high keen.
You could already feel how close you were, your body wanting, needing this release that only he could give you. Ransom lets go of your hands and you wrap them around his neck, trying to find some sort of footing as the world was being knocked out from underneath you as your orgasm crashed over you.
You tried to muffle your scream in his neck and felt tears in your eyes at how intense your release was.
“Wow. For someone who hates me so much, you came so quickly.” he chuckled, rubbing a few more small circles on your clit before he pulled his fingers out of you and sucked on them. “Fuck. I’ve missed the way you taste, darling.” He moaned, and before you could wipe away the evidence Ransom noticed the tears in your eyes.
“I know those aren’t tears of sadness.” He cocks an eyebrow. “You’ve always been sensitive, darling but I’ve never gotten you to cry before.” he chuckled and then you watched with heated cheeks as he clicked it all together and then smiled. “How long has it been for you? The whole five months?”
You don’t answer him, you only try to turn your face away from Ransom, but he grabs your chin and makes you look him in the eyes. He’s always been able to read you like a book.
“You haven’t been able to come at all have you?” he laughed and then his smile twisted into something cruel and mocking. “Not even with all those men you’ve been fucking huh? Nobody has been able to make this pussy sing have they? That’s so sad, darling. To go all this time and deny yourself when you could’ve just come back and I would’ve gladly ruined you-” He stopped himself and laughed before continuing. “But I guess I already have haven't I?”
He kissed you harshly, your chin still gripped in his hand. “Because this pussy knows who it belongs to. And you know it too.”
“No.” You whispered weakly.
“Oh yes, Y/N. We are made for each other and there’s no walking away from me this time sweetheart. I’m going to have to think of some way to tie you to me. Maybe I'll give you a kid or two. I know we both aren’t very fond of children but there may be no other option to make sure that you won’t leave me next time we have a fight.”
“No, Ransom.” you said your voice filled with panic. Ransom quickly hushed you by putting his lips back on yours in a searing kiss. 
“Shh, it’s okay sweet girl, you'll learn to love me in time.” His smile wicked. “Besides, I think I like the idea of little boys with their dad’s good looks. Maybe later, maybe for now I’ll just stick to tying you to our bed and fucking you senseless until you see my side of things.” 
You watched as Ransom pulled away from your lips to whisper in your ear. “But, right now I’m going to fuck you over your desk and have the whole building hear you scream as I break your little dry spell, darling.” 
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angrybirdcr · 14 days ago
Crowned Sin 👑
Soft!Dark!Crown Prince!Ransom Drysdale x Duchess!WOC!Reader One Shot
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//You can also find me on AO3 // Wattpad
A/N: This is a SUPER belated (I'M DEEPLY SORRY BOUT THAT!) entry to 3 amazing writing challenges hosted by 4 amazing people that I love. This is a wild mix of prompts and tropes! I apologize for the length of this story, I just went with the flow! I hope that you enjoy it!
@buckyownsmylife // Eyre's 2K Birthday Challenge
@stargazingfangirl18 //Siri's 5K Soft Dark Challenge
@iwantutobehapppier & @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog // Emma and Miri's Fanfic Trope Challenge
Special thanks to Maggie @wakingbeauty for being very supportive with this. And to Eyre @buckyownsmylife for being so patient with me and this long awaited fic that had been in the works for the past 2 months (and that I endlessly teased her about too!). You're amazing! 💖
**DISCLAIMER: This is for entertainment purposes only. I ONLY own the rights over my own original characters // Pics are taken from the internet for reference only and they’re not meant to be a literal interpretation of the details hereby described (included but not limited to, to reader’s appearance) // Dividers by me
**Please DO NOT post any of my works on any other platform or site. Feel free to like, comment and/or reblog. Thank You!**
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Word Count: 12.2K+
Breeding Kink
Arranged Marriage
In Vino Veritas (Drunken Confessions)
Summary: Who said that arrange marriages have to be forced? Sometimes life might surprise you for the better. That’s what happens to Crown Prince! Ransom Drysdale when his world is turned upside down by the sudden appearance of an enigmatic yet bright Duchess that might be just exactly what he needs, what he wants. Lust, Wine and Love mix with the weight of the crown.
Warnings: 18+.Adult themes. Royal AU, Breeding Kink, matchmaking, arranged marriage, drunken confessions, virginity loss, loss of innocence, soft!dark Ransom, WOC reader, historical inaccuracies might be found (sorry!), This is pure fluff, and smut, major cliché tooth-rotting soft romance, implied sexual content. YOUR MEDIA CONSUMPTION IS YOUR OWN RESPONSIBILITY
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It’s well known that heavy is the head that bears the crown, well it be for the vicious wars for power or the rapturous entanglements beneath the sheets, each one harbors their own interests in the game of dominance as they succumb to the secret desires of their hearts. Every heir in the succession line knows that one day they too will have to stop their philandering ways to join the flanks of senior royals, meaning to take someone else’s hand in marriage.
Crown Prince Hugh Ransom Drysdale-Thrombey was NOT the exception to the rule.
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Ransom had always hated the way that his family interfered with his life, especially his parents, from the activities that he did to the circle of acquaintances that he was allowed to join. Of course, being the rebellious prince he was, he would always find ways to escape their autocratic hands. But there was just how much freedom he could get before the weight of the crown fell over his shoulders
And that day came sooner than expected.
King Harlan Thrombey peacefully passed away in his sleep, after living a long satisfying life. He had gone to bed early that night after reading his favorite book and was found dead the next morning by one of his maids. A memorial service was promptly held and the kingdom went into the mourning period, with diplomatic visits from foreign royalty coming to pay their respects as well as staying for the crowning ceremony of the next king, or in this case, Queen.
Queen Linda Thrombey and Prince Consort Richard Drysdale, were crowned in the following weeks after the burial of their beloved monarch, given how she was the eldest child and rightful heir to the crown. A shift in power that brought in welcomed changes but that also meant for Ransom to assume the role assigned to him by birth.
The Rebellious Prince became THE Crown Prince.
But there was one thing that they would never control, not even with the responsibility of royalty bestowed upon him, and that was his heart. He held the absolute reins over to whom he showed his favor to and especially to whom he would lavish in his affections.
The whole kingdom knew that the ascension of Queen Linda inevitably drew out their spirituous Prince from whatever sin hole that he had crawled into for years, as he was rarely seen in any high society events and was even rumored to host exclusive private parties with his friends. Although, he always made sure to fulfill his royal duties to the verbatim during official public events, ensuring that he was taken seriously when the time called for it. This meant that now, that he was back to the pomp and glam of the aristocratic society's eyes, was the perfect time to bring forth a potential bride and Crown Princess-to-be into the fold. And he knew it perfectly well.
Despite the endless parade of the nobles’ daughters, their pushy fathers and their insufferable mothers, Ransom was not interested in letting their ambitions get in his way. He could smell their greed from miles away, all that they wished for was to trap him in an arranged marriage with a malleable girl that could bear him a child, just with the sole purpose of trying to control him like a puppet through them. How vividly he could imagine them doing so! But no matter how pretty or alluring their offspring could be, that was a pleasure that he would never grant them.
The same could be said about his parents, as they introduced him to every Lady and Princess that crossed their minds, yet he adamantly rejected them all too as he always found them as entitled brats that only cared about grandeur and keeping up appearances. And spending a life with someone like that, even if it was out of obligation and duty, was a dull future that he did not want for himself.
That didn’t mean that he was a celibate man. He was, after all, the most eligible bachelor amongst the kingdoms and he loved the attention he drew whenever he stepped inside a room. And as such, countless gorgeous ladies had warmed his bed at night, but none had managed to steal his heart. Howbeit, if he wished to outsmart them all on their game, there was only one way to do so: to choose his bride himself.
But he knew that he was running out of time. His mother was already well into her years when she sat on the throne and despite her deep love for their people and her duty as Queen, she had always expressed her wish for Ransom to take her place while she still lived; so that she could joyfully spend her last days in the peace between banal tea parties and embroidery. There was no doubt that with that also came the responsibility to take a wife, his Queen and future mother of his children, a decision that although needed was still one that he dreaded.
Until he met you.
He casually, and boringly so, joined his cousin Megan for a stroll down the halls as she anxiously waited for her dearest friend to arrive, one that he had heard so much about. Yet, he failed to paint in his mind the features that matched Meg’s constant lively descriptions of said alleged proper lady. Was she even real? Or had he shaped her all up in his mind? He wondered. But as he contemplated it, his breath was taken away by the marvelous sight just a few feet apart from him.
It was an image as bright as an angel, lighting the path that she walked on with a finesse and grace that surpassed the brilliance of her gown and the jewels adorning her skin. It made all the other women in her proximity look dull in comparison. She attracted him like a magnetic pull that he could not control, bringing to life an incandescent fire on his veins and heated up the air whooshing on his lungs
“Who is she?” He asked Meg, without breaking eye contact with the source of his amazement.
“She’s my friend...” She smirked, looking at Ransom’s lustful expression, so lost into her that she showed curiosity if he even heard what she said. “Oh, no… Keep your hands off her, cousin. She’s NOT going to join your long list of ruined ladies.” He snorted at her comment as he bore no doubt that you were indeed remarkably different from all the others. He knew that he was a goner the moment that your name felt as sweet as honey in his lips. He ignored Meg’s pleas and advanced towards you with the confidence and determination that would make even the strongest man bend down the knee.
“Greetings, your grace, welcome to the palace.” He said, taking your hand on his and dropping a chaste kiss on it, igniting an electric spark that traveled from the tip of your fingers down to your toes. But you gracefully masked your shock behind a kind smile.
“The pleasure is mine, your highness.” The devious spark in his eyes did not go unnoticed by you, as the raw intensity of his stare made your insides somersault. But your innocence made you oblivious as to how much your own piercing gaze affected him. Your reverie was only broken by Meg’s calling of your name.
“It’s so good to see you, Duchess,” she teased you, knowing your preference of this title over your birth one as Princess, tightly hugging you. “I’m glad that you made it safe.” She said, releasing you yet keeping you at an arm's length.
“Oh, I am delighted to be here, Princess.” You beamed, shyly returning your gaze to Ransom’s imponent figure. The tight-fitting attire proper of his status further enhanced his already dazzling appearance.
“If you find it proper, then I would love to take you on a tour of the palace so that you can get better acquainted with it.” You didn’t know the real meaning behind such words, but you found yourself unable to deny his request. It rather excited you, the possibility to spend more time with him away from the current prying eyes of servants and other noblemen and women. As you both ignored Megan’s knowing look exchanged with one of her ladies.
“I would be honored, your highness,” you smiled, as he fought back his urge to pull you flush against him to take your lips hostage. “If you allow me, I would prefer to change my clothes first. It has been a long journey after all.” He nodded, gladly sending you off with Meg and her ladies.
He took in every curve and movement as you made your way to your chambers. He unconsciously licked his lips letting his imagination go wild, thinking of you writhing beneath him and moaning his name, making his loins burn in high expectancy. Something that proved to be painful based on the terrible tightening on his trousers.
We’ll get there soon, he told himself, completely unaware of the major upheaval that he was about to create himself.
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You reemerged a few hours later wearing a lighter floral dress that accentuated every curve of your body as your cheeks, eyes and lips were lightened up with a dash of natural makeup and loose strands of your hair were pinned by small jeweled pieces that added that little touch to the innate shine of your mane. He cherished the radiance emanating from you, magnified by you kneeling to help one of the servants that had accidentally fallen in front of you. You did so with such kindness and warmth that had everyone stricken with admiration, for such acts were not that common amongst the higher born ladies. He was greatly surprised when felt something stir inside him beyond the natural response of his body to your inherent allure. It was something sinful yet overcome by a glowing purity knocking on his core.
He greeted you with a grin as you approached him, your ladies following you both closely behind as it wasn’t proper for an unmarried lady to be alone with him. But just the thought alone of spending time with you elated him. He showed you around his favorite places, especially having a delightful time in the royal garden.
“It’s so beautiful.” You exclaimed, the mere sound of your voice made his heart skip a beat as your eyes marveled in the artistic hues and sublime patterns of nature.
“I’m glad that you like it,” he said, walking as close to you as possible. “How long are you planning on staying, Duchess?” He asked, truthfully curious about your initial plans.
“I was cordially invited by your cousin, Princess Megan, to stay over the summer. My prompt arrival here was due to my parents' eagerness to send me off in hopes of getting me married.” You humorously said, shrugging off the fact that although your parents loved you very much, they were still extremely concerned about the continuity of their bloodline and their great standing in society derived not just by your birthright but from your own connections as well. You were born a Princess, naturally inheriting the title of Duchess with the ascension of your parents, a former Duke and Duchess, to the throne of another Kingdom and who also were close friends of late King Harlan.
“Get married, huh?” He hummed, disapprovingly. Your eyes bulged at the tone of his voice, making you realize the underlying meaning of your words.
“Oh, no! Not like that!” you chuckled. “It’s just that, I haven’t embraced the idea of walking down the aisle just yet...” You said, looking down as you bit your lip. A simple action that set his entire body aflame, not that you could see it but oh, he felt it!
“Very well. And may I inquire why that is your grace? You, being reluctant to become a bride...” He smirked, genuinely interested in the reasoning behind your words as each and every one intrigued him more than just the unquestionable physical attraction between you two did.
“I believe in true love, your highness,” you muttered, stopping in your tracks to meet his alluring orbs. “... But you might well know how hard it is to find that amongst the spheres that we gravitate in. Royalty and Aristocracy are not exactly the ideal mise-en-scene to fancy another’s affection.” You steadfastly said, yet the pain you felt at the bleak future you saw for yourself was clearly laced on your words.
“That I know,” he paused, waiting to see if you had more to add and taking your silence as an open door to express himself. “So, what are you looking for here? Beyond the sun on your skin and the twaddle of court. What do you really want, your grace?” He huskily asked, taking a step dangerously close to you as his enticing smell encased your soul in an over sensorial haze.
You were lost in each other’s eyes as your brain stopped functioning, quite bewildered to have been asked about what you really thought, even more so that it came from him. What could be seen as a simple question by many, to you it reflected a level of interest in your individuality that not even your parents had taken the time to show. They only assumed that you were a rebellious youngster afraid of the commitment that came with the vows.
“You don’t have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable.” He added, exponentially growing your admiration for him. Which you didn’t think was possible as it wasn’t a secret how his reputation as a rake travelled beyond his palace walls.
“That’s not… What I mean is--” you sighed, reorganizing your thoughts into coherent sentences. “They already rejoiced in my brother’s accomplishments in life as a married man with kids, so they let me come here hoping that I would find a suitor that would make me change my mind and that somehow their dreams for me of having a big lavish wedding and a myriad of grandchildren popped out of me would become a reality. Something that I do want for myself, one day. But I--” you lopsided smiled. “I was only needing the freedom of being away from their overwhelming pressure.” He attentively listened to you, this being the first time that he did so because he was sincerely interested in it, interested in you.
He felt the vulnerability in your voice, that known desperation for laissez faire and that softness in which you expressed your longing for that emotion everyone called love. Your mention of starting your own family did not go unnoticed by him either, igniting an unknown flame to burn deep within him.
You would make a perfect queen.
If anything, the garden seemed to agree with him as there was a sunray falling atop of your head like a halo, enhancing the dove like appearance your dress and loose hair gave you. The melodic chirping of birds resonated in the air as the ambrosial fragrance of the flowers filled your nose, making you sigh in content. A regal atmosphere that surrounds you and has nothing to do with the blue blood prince at your side.
“And freedom you shall have, milady. For as long as you wish so...” He promised with the corners of his mouth tugged up in delight. His finger grazed your skin as he seductively tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear, the feather-like touch sending shivers down your spine. “Who knows what else you might find here...” He playfully said with his signature smirk.
“Oh.” You softly gasped.
“Are you feeling okay?” He teased you, watching your eyes go wide in recognition. Just a few minutes with you and he was already loving the immediate response of your body.
“Yes! I still must be tired from the journey,” you said, letting out a small nervous giggle. “And I think that I might have taken too much of your time, your highness.” Your timid demeanor felt like a breath of fresh air in the sea of pretentiousness and conceitedness that swamped the court.
“Please, call me Ransom in private, beautiful,” you felt the heat beneath your cheeks at his welcome compliment. “And feel free to come to me if you need anything. Do not hesitate to ask as you are our guest after all and it’s only right that we look after you.” He warmly said, relishing in the tugged-up corners of your lips, especially how adorable you looked nervously fidgeting with your fingers.
“I will.” You promised as he once again saw you walk away, completely unaware of the raging storm that you sparked within him.
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And the days went by in bliss.
You knew that accepting Meg’s invitation would be a refreshing change, but you never thought that you would enjoy it this much. Not just the way that the halls seemed to be brighter and the ladies that accompanied you were always gleeful but also the sneaky way that face constantly appeared in your dreams at night and presented himself to you at day like a vision to behold. You failed to see the man that everyone whispered to be careful about, as his attentive care constantly caressed the inner walls of your heart. He was the best welcoming host that you never expected to have, and you soon found yourself yearning for his presence, many times silently calling his name in your mind as you carefully knitted before he suddenly crossed through the doors as if you had summoned him to you. Ransom was slowly but surely filtering through the cracks of your walls.
A beatitude that you could also attribute to Megan's sudden change of mind about a close friendship forming between Ransom and you. After her initial apprehension, you were stunned at the not-so-discreet way that she mischievously propitiated some of the encounters between you two.
‘I must admit my mistake, you two do make one fine pair!’ She had whispered in your ear with a smirk as she bolted out the room chuckling, leaving you alone with Ransom and a shy chaperone standing in a corner for the sake of appearances. Such antics uniquely aided in the creation of a blissful bubble were your affections effortlessly brewed.
You knew that the mere thought of him so easily charming you like this should make all the alarms in your brain go off, but it didn’t. There was something about him that made you feel so safe and comfortable whenever you were with him. You didn’t know if it was his innate seductiveness or his undisputable charisma as his eyes crinkled on the edges when he looked at you. Whatever it was, you were captive of his spell.
He would take every chance that he was given to be with you, even if was simply sharing a tea with you or strolling down the town’s streets, rummaging through small antiques shops and fabrics or flower stands and artists' corners. He wanted all the time in the world with you. Even when you weren’t looking. He would lurk in the shadows through the deserted halls as you would gracefully share with yours and Meg’s ladies, even his mother was greatly pleased by your warm presence. At those moments a simple glance at the loose strands of your hair was enough to send his heart roaring to the skies. You had utterly bewitched him without even really trying.
He was still tied to his obligation to entertain the ladies of court out of respect, but even then, his mind would always drift back to you. This night was not the exception, as the ball being held in his honor gave him the perfect excuse to stick to your side. He craved you like the moon calls the night, with such a fervent devotion that made his blood boil to unbearable highs. And it was on full display for everyone to see.
Queen Linda saw it too. Despite her somewhat cold exterior, she was still Ransom’s mother and as such she could read her son like the palm of her hand. In fact, she had seen that indisputable chemistry that kindled sparks between you since the moment that you set foot on the palace grounds. Something that at one point led to an interesting conversation with Ransom where the words “respect”, “commitment” and “allurement” were exchanged. And this fine night during dinner, she silently took merriment in the pleasant confirmation of her motherly instincts and a reaffirmation of her long taken decision.
It could not be ignored how he stole glances at you in between bites, how he lustfully wetted his lips after each sip of wine with a fiery stare sent your way and how he kept orbiting around you at every turn. No matter who hooked their arms with his, he kept going back to you. The moment that the notes marked the time for a dance, he did not lose a second to have you in his arms.
“May I have this dance, your grace?” He politely asked you, making heat rush beneath your cheeks. The fact that this handsome enigmatic man was asking you, out of the tens of other beautiful ladies, was unbelievable to you but it made you feel honored and blessed nonetheless.
“Of course, your highness.” You shyly smiled, letting him guide you to the floor. Your breath hitched at the feeling of his hand on the small of your back as the other held your hand in a reassuring grip.
“Fret not, Duchess, just feel me...” his voice held so much promise that made you tremble in his arms. You saw the recognition flicker on his blown-up pupils and a dashing smile played on his lips as he tightened his hold on you. You could feel his breath fan over your face as his musky and cedar scent viciously attacked your nostrils, you automatically bit your lip at such closeness. “Do I make you nervous, your grace?” He asked you, hypnotized by the rising and falling of your chest against his rock-hard muscles.
“Ergh, well...I’m just not used to the attention of another man other than my brother, your highness.” He loved to hear that, not that he would have resisted you if that wasn’t the case, but it meant that he could be your first everything in a completely unadulterated way while teaching you all the secrets between man and woman.
“Please, tell me, your grace, have you ever been in love?” He teasingly asked, enjoying your flustered expression. He knew the answer already, of you being a proper lady always sheltered by your family and away from the rakish ways of wicked men, yet he wished to hear it from you.
“Pardon me, your highness, but I do not feel that this is a proper conversation to have...” you answered, confused at the smirk that danced on his lips.
“And why is that darling?” He pushed. “Do you harbor a sinful secret that you’re afraid to see the light?” He cunningly halted his steps, facing you and assessing your reaction.
“I-- No, I could never!” You exclaimed with furrowed brows, feeling his warm breath over your skin. His proximity, effectively taking your breath away. “It is not within my principles to harbor feelings with someone that is not my intended...” You breathlessly said, unsure as to why you felt so compelled to explain yourself like that.
“Then, has a man ever touched you like this?” He huskily said, suggestively moving his hand from your lower back higher up, finally running a finger across the freed skin behind the nape of your neck. You thickly swallowed as your eyes shone in anxious expectancy.
“Nev--never...An unmarried lady like me could never risk her reputation by mindlessly strolling alone with a single man and much less let him touch me unchaperoned--” You managed to say once you found your voice again, willingly accepting his burning touch. You felt your heart pick up its beat dangerously high as his darkened eyes examined the same essence of your being through the windows of your soul.
“If no man has awakened these desires in you before and no one has earned the key to your heart… Would you let me be the first?” He confidently asked, although his question was more of an informal proposal than the search for an answer that he seemed to have known all along.
“I-- Your highness…” I do, you wanted to say but the words died in your throat. Yet, it wouldn't be right either if you did as he knew the need of a formal announcement for such news.
“You don’t need to say anything. I’ll take care of everything--” he whispered in your ear. “But keep your doors closed at night, your grace.” He walked away, leaving you baffled with a racing heart as you released a relieved sigh. There was no way to ignore his lingering looks the rest of the night, as if he had pressed a button that switched something inside you. You flinched at the sound of the Queen’s voice coming next to you.
“He’s quite a dashing Prince, isn’t he?” She casually said, sipping her own wine. “Every single lady in this room wishes to grasp an inkling of his attention,” she added, turning to see your stoic expression, taking in the hungry looks of the women meandering around him, waiting to pounce on Ransom as if he was a piece of meat they wanted to devour. You understood the alluring power that he held at the snap of his fingers, but it was the hollowness of their eyes that made your heart painfully constrict in your ribcage for you were so familiar with the same expressions from the men that looked your way.
“Oh, he’s a very fine gentleman indeed, your majesty.” You flatly said, puzzled at the wide smirk that appeared on her lips.
“...yet, it seems that he’s wholly rapt in smitten already,” she pointed, engrossed in the dazed look of her son’s idée fixe. “Such a shame that they’ll be disappointed real soon...” If her earlier words hadn’t already fazed you then this did the trick. You couldn’t avoid hearing the teasing tone of her voice laced with underlying connotations that you couldn’t decipher, even more so as you watched her retreat with a loud chuckle.
Wine did not help.
You watched in amazement at the crowd driven by the finest liquors and chattering, they were each living in their own world. This wasn’t something new to you, you had grown up as a Duchess, perfectly knowing the ups and downs of the ton. Yet, there was something indefinable about the people in court that surpassed your wildest expectations, too much pressure, too much pomp. Maybe it was the absurd amount of decadent wine you had, maybe it was the Queen’s earlier dubious words, maybe it was the overcrowded hall or maybe, just maybe, it had everything to do with being in the same space as him. Either way, it was suffocating, and you needed to get out of there, now. But as you searched the nearest door, Ransom’s heated gaze befell upon you and right then the world stopped.
He made the colony of butterflies in your stomach take flight in a frantic manner, for his eyes shone with the desire proper of lovers but matched with the ardor of kindred spirits, of soulmates. You knew right then, as you were caught in each other’s eyes that you were falling hard for the sinful Prince. And you could only hope that deep within him, that he felt the same way to naively keep alive that spark that fed your dreams of living a true love and not the imposed obligation of a hollow arrangement. But with the same fervor that those thoughts came, they left. You were the one to shatter the unending trance as you made your way through the sea of unknown faces till you successfully escaped.
You retired alone as your ladies-in-waiting were lost in the reverie of the feast and you were too kind to stop them. You lazily dragged your feet through the tiled floors, feeling lightheaded thanks to the wine in your system but it was not enough to make you stumble with nothingness nor for your sight to blur what laid ahead of you.
Little did you know that you were not alone.
Curious eyes followed you in the shadows, smiling to himself as he watched your forbidden figure calling him with each step. So, he gladly obeyed the silent command as he forcefully yet gently pushed you against the wall, drawing a shocked gasp from you.
“Sshh… it’s me, darling,” he softly whispered, the unmistakable hints of liquor spreading in the air. His hand covering your mouth to stop the scream threatening to escape. He let go as he watched you relax on his hold; his knuckles lit your skin on fire as they trailed the edge of your face and down the tenderness of your throat, gliding through your sternum until it traced the underline of your breast. The air was kicked out of your lungs as his other hand tightened its grip on your waist.
“Ransom...” you mumbled, unconsciously parting your lips earning you an appreciative groan from the depths of him.
“I love how you say my name--” he said, moving his hand up again to caress your lips. “You’re such a vixen in the skin of an angel,” he huskily said, deeply inhaling your scent as it seamlessly mingled with his own.
“You don’t even know, do you?” He asked, reveling in the confusion that shone in your eyes. “How much you drive me crazy...” he filled in the gaps in your mind, as you gaped like a fish out of the water without knowing what to say.
“This-- this isn’t right...” you said barely above a whisper, as your hands laid limp at your sides, your fingers tightly holding onto your skirts for dear life.
“What exactly?” he smirked. “The way that you have absolutely bewitched me? The way that your body trembles on my hands? Or the fact that we are both hanging by a thin thread here?” He said, seductively lifting your chin up between his finger and thumb.
“This--” you paused, struggling to get the words out. “This is, the fine wine speaking…” You nonchalantly said, trying to use the burning liquid as an excuse for the serendipitous confession. Yet it was to no use based on the playful chuckle he let out.
“Oh, darling… Nox testis est; in vino veritas,” he skillfully uttered in Latin, admiring the cute, startled expression etched on your face.
“Night is also a witness; In wine there is truth,” you neatly translated, lost into the erotic twinkle of his eyes.
“You know Latin too,” he stated with a curious arch of his brows, delighted at knowing yet another amazing trait of yours. You softly nodded as he sensually nuzzled the side of your neck. “So, you see there’s no lie on my lips. I want you, you want me. We’re just one little step away from sin...” He groaned, softly tilting your head to expose the delectable pulse point that he eagerly nibbled on, evoking a sinful moan to pass your lips.
“Ran...” you tried to say his name but fell short at the overwhelming desire rushing through your veins. You fisted your hands up on his garments, unknowingly pulling him towards you and closing the last gap in between your bodies. His whole being caged you. One of his hands sneaked around your waist, pulling you up on your tippy toes as the other grabbed the back of your head to meet his fiery eyes.
He looked for your silent permission and you gladly granted it. He crashed your lips in a searing kiss, his hands holding you in place as you wantonly moaned into his mouth. All caution thrown to the wind as the electrifying passion consumed you wholly. You soon found your own hands entwining behind his head, tangling themselves in his luscious hair and bringing out a low growl from the depths of his chest. You were completely lost into the new pleasurable sensations until you felt his dexterous hand travel beneath your skirts, sending goosebumps on your skin. So exhilarating, so primal but so dangerous… the last one efficiently knocking some sense into you, like a bucket of iced water.
“Hmph, wait!” you reluctantly exclaimed, breaking off the soul-consuming kiss. “We must not--” you added through ragged breath, panic rightfully taking over your lust-filled expression. He nodded, gently resting his forehead over yours, your noses touching.
“You’re right-- you’re right...” he breathlessly said, his own chest rising and falling as the oppressing tightness of his trousers reminded him of the magnitude of your heated rendezvous with a pained groan. He slowly closed and opened his eyes before fixing on your abused lips, softly touching them with his thumb as if admiring the most beautiful piece of art, his own artwork.
“You should go,” you weakly said, feeling your knees buckling underneath you. “We--” you sighed, taking a sharp intake of air. “We cannot be seen like this.” You firmly said, and you didn’t have to explain the ramification of your words as he understood them perfectly clear. This one, perfect, little moment between you could mean your ruin and his own doom as well. That was not how he wished to will you into his bed, into his life.
“I should…” he muttered, giving you one last longing peck before painfully extricating himself from you. “But this is not over, your grace,” he teasingly said, licking his lips as he touched them with the same thumb that touched yours. “This is a sealed promise of what’s to come.” The determination of his words shaking you to the core, you would have certainly fallen flat on the floor hadn’t you been leaning on the wall as he walked away.
As his powerful figure vanished into the night you clumsily made your way into your chambers, your hand over your heart, feeling its erratic beating against your palm. You couldn’t go to sleep without his promise ringing in your dreams…
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The following day didn’t fare any better than your restless night. Between the remnants of the party still lingering in the air and the lively flashbacks shamelessly appearing on your mind, you couldn’t even focus on the bite to fill your body with sustenance. And as if that wasn’t enough, Ransom’s constant knowing smirks thrown your way on the breakfast table only amplified your mortification.
“I see that you both made it to us this fine morning.” Queen Linda cryptically said, looking back and forth between Ransom and you, throwing your mind in a loop.
“Why wouldn’t we, mother?” Ransom stoically said, completely unbothered, yet that was about to change.
“Well, we all saw you two mysteriously disappear, one after the other, last night” She was the one smirking now. You felt your throat close at the implication of her words as you glared at Ransom, nervously sipping on your water. “I hope that we won’t have a scandal in our hands this soon…” She teasingly chuckled as you frantically coughed, your coffee having gone down the wrong pipe. “Oh, dear! Are you okay?” She worriedly asked, you simply nodded.
“Why would you always assume the worst, mother?” Ransom said, trying to deflect the attention back to him.
“Can’t your son simply be the gentleman that you raised by accompanying a Lady that was walking alone late at night, when even in the safety of our walls only the Lord knows the dangers hidden in the shadows?” He flatly said, casually drinking up his coffee and meeting your eyes with mischief.
“Of course! And I wouldn’t expect anything less from you, but you still know the way society tends to look at certain things.” She said, mindlessly mirroring her son’s actions with her own cup of the caffeine boost. “Especially now--” she paused, the way Ransom visibly tensed at her words made you question yourself if there was something else that you were missing?
“Are we missing something here?” Megan voiced out your own thoughts. Everyone’s focuses now laying on them.
“This might not be the news that you were expecting, son, but you must listen to what your mother has to say.” Prince Consort Richard said, Ransom’s jaw tightening impossibly more.
“Thank you, love. Well, like your father said, we received great news this morning that we had been waiting for a long time. A letter arrived accepting our proposal for you to take the Princess’ hand in marriage.” She said, making everyone gasp in surprise.
Ransom was getting married.
You surely heard that wrong, RIGHT? It had to be. Because if not then that meant that all your dreams had been crushed before they even had a chance to begin.
“WHAT??” He yelled without care about what the others might think. He was seething! This nightmare could not be happening, especially NOT now when he finally had discovered what he had been looking for. Not when his life got meaning and not when his heart was beating for someone, beating for YOU. “This is a really terrible jest, isn’t it?” He dryly chuckled, hoping that this was a distasteful jive from his parents.
“Why would we jest with something as important as this? Her parents are coming and are due to arrive in the next few days.” She said with a somewhat confused look on. She definitely wasn’t expecting this reaction. “Wasn’t this what YOU wanted, son?” She said, unknowingly adding more fuel to the fire.
As soon as the words left her lips, he turned to meet your shocked and pained expression, fastly overpowering you and draining all color from your factions. He shook his head in denial, silently begging you to give him the benefit of the doubt, yet you either didn’t seem to catch it or were just too overwhelmed by the news. Even more so after the magical moment you shared the night before.
“Excuse me, please.” You politely excused yourself from the table, escaping from the constricting walls of the dinning hall with as much grace as you could muster up.
“HOW COULD YOU?” You heard him yell in the background as you distanced yourself more and more with each step. “WAIT!” He called your name, rushing after you and not caring about the image that he would project by doing so. The loud clicking of his boots rang on your ears as you could feel the tears cruelly pricking your eyes, fogging your sight as you walked away.
“Please… stop!” He begged, grabbing your arm to halt your steps as he stood in front of you. “I’m sorry… I swear that I didn’t know!” He said, voice laced with as much emotion as the one reflected on his eyes. You listened to him, but you couldn’t hear him. You were too shocked, too hurt, and all rational thinking was blocked by the stabbing pain caused by his mother’s words.
“LET ME GO!” You screamed, yanking your arm off from him and taking two steps back, creating much needed space between you. “WHY RANSOM? WHY?” You cried, letting the tears freely fall as you placed a hand over your heart trying to keep in check your bursting emotions. Your heart leapt as you noticed the prying eyes of noblemen, ladies and palace staff alike. He immediately noticed it himself, earning them all a hateful look that screamed to them to scram away. “If you already had someone else that you were taking as your wife…” you paused, heavily sighing. “…then why did you feed my hopes? Why did you kiss me and promised me something that was not mine for the taking? Was it really that fun to mock me like this?” You brokenly said, letting him see the excruciating agony devouring your soul.
He was speechless.
The mighty Prince was rendered powerless, at your tears. What could he possibly say to diffuse such a truthful statement? He knew that this moment would come, that an arranged marriage would take place, but he had hoped in vain that he could change his destiny before that happened. He had indeed stomped over your heart, your dignity and honor as an untouched Lady, as the moment he chased you he confirmed the rumors of a secret liaison between you. He set the train in motion the minute that he dared to lay his eyes on you and the second that he tainted the pureness of your soul.
There was no going back.
He tried to speak but his mind was muddled with an array of wild emotions and his heart metaphorically bled as the dagger of truth you stabbed him with kept twisting inside him. ‘Sorry’, that was the only word mimicked by his lips as he watched you lift your skirts and ran away. He was now a man on a mission, a particularly important mission.
Just as you left him standing there like a statue, you stumbled your way inside your chambers, slamming the door on your ladies’ faces and ignoring their pleas to let them in to help you. Pleas that soon die and they understood the desire of their mistress to back off as she dealt with such an inner turmoil. And you were eternally grateful to them for that. But the moment that you confirmed to be alone and away from all judging eyes and gossiper ears, you felt the weight of everything fall upon your shoulders.
The air was thick with despair and affliction, stuffing your lungs with the heavy guilt of Queen Linda’s revelation. You struggled with the laces of your bodice until it was off you, leaving you in nothing but your white under dress as you fell to your knees, bitterly sobbing over your broken illusion. You cried and cried until you were drained of every tear, of every emotion. You didn’t know how long it passed, when you weakly stood up, clumsily taking a few steps till your back hit the soft mattress. You reveled in the comfort it provided you and soon found yourself into Morpheus arms.
But the day was far from over…
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He angrily rushed back to the dining hall, where everyone stood murmuring about what just transfixed a few moments ago, meeting his parents equally baffled expressions.
“I believe that we must speak alone, NOW!” He barked, making his way down to their study. The second the doors closed he impatiently paced in the room, waiting for answers. “I thought that I had made myself clear about my wishes.” He clenched his jaw. “And you said--” he sighed, trying to control his anger. “… you said that you respect them! So, what is this???” He demanded. He was livid and clearly shaken, even more so when he noticed his parents knowing looks.
“I told you that this was the right call--” Richard said, rubbing comforting circles on Linda’s shoulder.
“I know, I know…” she said smiling, fueling Ransom’s ire.
“I’m sorry, son, we should have told you about this sooner. But we were certain that you would approve of this decision.” She calmly said, looking greatly relieved at her son’s reaction, one that for a split second she had thought to have misread but was now sure she didn’t.
“App—APPROVE YOU SAY? Why would you possibly think that? This is MY future wife and mother of my heirs that we’re talking about here! The future Queen of this Kingdom!” He exasperatedly exclaimed.
“Precisely.” Richard said, causing his frown to deepen. Noticing this Linda immediately handed Ransom a letter with a familiar royal stamp on it. He fastly read it, his eyes bulging at the contents before meeting his mother’s face with great shock. She nodded at him, chuckling alongside her husband as their son soaked in the news.
** *** **
Feather-like caresses traced swirling patterns from your jawline down the column of your neck, slowly getting lost in the valley of your breasts as his lips expertly kissed and sucked your sweet spots, sending a shiver down your spine. Your eyes tightly shut as you reveled in the electrifying bolts his hands sent to your nerves, as he moved his ministrations lower and lower until he found his coveted prize, making you arch your back into his perfectly carved muscles.
“You’re gorgeous,” he whispered, his tongue darting forth, eliciting the most sensual moans from your mouth. You felt him smirk in your moist nether lips before he sent you higher and higher with each flick and motion.
And then you fell.
“RANSOM!” You cried.
An exquisite never-ending fall that shook you from the top of your head to the tips of your toes, his eyes lustfully fixated into your euphoric ones before he captured your mouth into a scorching possessive kiss that asserted his promise to make you his.
“You’re mine, Princess...” he exhaled on the shell of your ear as you felt him probe at your entrance, eliciting a sensual moan from you...
** *** **
You loudly gasped, sitting on your bed with ragged breath as beads of sweat ran down your cleavage, soaking your dress. But that wasn’t the only thing that called your attention, the incessant throbbing between your legs confirmed you dreamed with the owner of those ocean blue eyes pleasuring you into oblivion. You were flushed.
You briefly closed your eyes, allowing your body to gather itself. Beautifully decorated walls and ceilings cramped with intrinsic designs that looked painted by the angels, a bright light announcing another day as the events from the previous day came back flooding you like an undeserved punishment. A fresh batch of salty drops wetted your skin as you folded yourself in a fetal position, looking for comfort, for warmth, as you grieved for the love you thought now lost. You refused anyone to see you in such a vulnerable state, not even Megan’s insisting pleas, at least not until you found some resemblance of composure.
And like that another day passed.
You once again woke to the constricting feeling in your chest matched by an agonizing headache. A deadly combination that didn’t allow you to ignore your ladies’ service this day, howbeit still reluctantly so. Nobody dared to utter a word that wasn’t necessary to fulfil their duties as your grievance was well written in your face. You took a much-needed bath to freshen yourself, but you refused to wear any fancy gowns or accessories, simply letting your hair loose and a dash of makeup on to cover the evidence of your lack of rest. Also ignoring their request for you to have a proper meal, only being able to take a sip of coffee yet accepting their suggestion to take a stroll in the gardens, it was after all already past noon.
You couldn’t avoid the stab you felt as you walked down the same rocky path that HE had shown you. The beauty of nature intermixed with the daunting memories in a bittersweet painting, a recreation of the past and present colliding. Your lungs appreciated the intake of fresh oxygen, as it traveled up your brain to clear up your thoughts. But as you allowed yourself to get lost in them, you felt his unmistakable presence come behind you.
“I knew that I would find you here.” Ransom quietly said, making you stop dead in your tracks. “Please, don’t run away from me again,” he pleaded, you could hear the strain on his voice that made your heart clench. Taking a deep breath, you stiffly turn around to meet his equally conflicted eyes.
“I wouldn’t dare to offend your hospitality, your highness,” you firmly said, your eyes speaking out loud about the hurt invading you wholly.
“I can’t ask you to understand, for what happened that night was unforgivable, and I certainly don’t deserve your mercy,” he said, ashamed without breaking contact with you. “But I do need to beg you to give me a chance to explain myself.” For a moment you pondered why you should accept his request, but the sincerity laced on his words dispelled all traces of doubt from you.
“Although I do not think it necessary, you are the Crown Prince, but I am but a mere guest after all, I will grant his highness this one request.” You said in one go before you had a change in mind, not missing the way his throat bobbed and he expelled a relieved sigh.
“If I didn’t tell you about me being engaged…” he began, swallowing the guilt that overcame him watching you flinch as his words. “… it was because I didn’t know myself either,” he explained, your eyes going wide as saucers at this. “Apparently, my parents deemed it right to make the arrangement on their own without consulting me first,” he sighed, his hands firmly set on his hips.
“The thing is, your grace, that we should have stayed there longer that day,” you furrowed brows at the odd remark. “Had we done so, then we would have heard the name of my fortunate bride.” His lips tugged up sending your mind in a spiral. ‘Why was he being so cruel like this?’, You thought, not daring to retort.
“I can hear the wheels turning, Princess…” You gasped at the term, this being the first time that he ever addressed you like that, he wasn’t supposed to know that. “That’s right, I know your secret,” he mischievously grinned. “Not only that but your parents are also arriving soon.” At that your brain went haywire, panic rising from the depths of your chest as you assembled the pieces of the puzzle together.
‘There was no way…’ you thought.
“Do you understand now?” He softly said, taking a step forward to grab your hand. You let him do so as your blood filled with high expectancy. “It has been YOU all along… Such is the depth of our desire and the visible evidence of our reciprocated affection that we shall not fear it nor hide it anymore.” He said, rubbing comforting circles on your hands.
“What are you saying?” You knew the answer, but it was the still unbelieving and pained part inside you that needed to hear it from him, loud and clear. He chuckled.
“It means that you awoke inside me feelings that I thought I would never grant to anyone. It means that you are the only one I can imagine sitting on the throne next to me. It means that my loins burn for you beyond anything that I’ve ever felt, almost to the point of madness. It means that I never wanted an heir but with you I want all the children that you want to give me, and just the thought of seeing YOU round with my child drives me wild. It means that I’m at your mercy and that if you wish it so, if you too feel the same way, then you’re the bride this kingdom will crown…” He eloquently said, voice filled with heavy emotion. His hand delivered a loving touch to your cheek, a gesture that you gladly welcomed by leaning on as happy tears left your eyes.
“Ransom…” you whispered, completely bewildered by the unexpected turn of events. Feeling your heart mend as an immense sense of peace washed over you.
“So, what do you say, my stubborn Princess? Do you accept this agreement between our Kingdoms? Will you be my wife, my queen, the future mother of my children?” He asked you with every ounce of love and emotion that he could muster, removing all the space between you.
“How could I possibly decline?” You said, chuckling as you rested your hands over his chiseled chest. “Of course, that I accept!” You happily exclaimed, taken aback by the sudden crash of his lips against yours.
It was such an unexplainable rapturous feeling that sent shivers down your spine and goosebumps pricked your skin. This kiss was different from the desperate passionate one he gave you that night, this one still conveyed urgency, but it was not rushed but charged with emotion. Such was the extent of your musing that you threw all propriety out the window, devouring each other’s mouth ignoring the shocked eyes and knowing smiles. Something that you only became aware of once that you opened your dazed eyes to meet Ransom’s lust and love filled ones, both of you parting albeit reluctant.
“I guess that everyone will now call you Princess Ransom Drysdale…” He smirked, evoking a cheerful chuckle as you relished the warmth of his hands firmly set over your covered waist.
“We definitely should have waited.” You smiled, that bright and wide smile that made his heart skip a beat, eliciting on his chest the ardent feeling known as love. One that you returned equally joyful, unashamedly letting his arms wrap around you.
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It didn’t take much for the news to travel through the Kingdom, their rebellious Crown Prince had found his bride, a Duchess and Princess no more no less. One that hadn’t even been named amongst the hundreds of candidates that were brought forth but the woman that managed to do what no other did, to win his heart.
By the time that your parents arrived the whole palace was in a gleeful uproar, preparing for the most expected royal engagement in decades. The streets soon became flooded with flowers and festive arrangements in honor of their Prince and bride, happy chants of the people marked the beginning of a new era.
‘I’m so happy for you!’ Megan had beamed, tightly hugging you and squeezing all the air out of your lungs. You openly embraced the welcome into a family that you loved but that you never dreamt off joining.
You laughed and cheered at the dining table, mirthfully dancing on the clouds that Ransom made you feel as he twirled you to the beat of the musical notes engulfing the space. And for the first time since you arrived, since that fateful and heated night, the entire world faded away and the only ones that mattered were you two.
And just like that your wedding day arrived.
The biggest lavish event of the year that brought royalty and nobility from all over the kingdoms. The palace was beautifully decorated with elegant flowers and sparkling ornaments in every corner and every hall, the epitome of a fairytale.
But as if that wasn’t enough to make everyone’s mouths drop to the floor, then the news that spread in every street like a wildfire did it. The room typically designated for the sumptuous wedding gifts sent from Royals and all nobility Houses was delightfully transformed into a reception dining hall for the people in need, no one was to undergo hunger in the whole kingdom and even less so in the day that their future monarchs joined in holy matrimony. Every penny received was assigned towards making that possible and any remnants to be distributed among the people. It furthered their admiration and respect as new hopes arose in the horizon.
Everything was perfect.
You awoke to the melodious chirping of birds outside your window, warm sun rays caressing your skin, a natural glow on your face… The best start of the day. Your ladies were prompt to ready you, making sure that every aspect of your appearance was done to perfection. From the delicate waves on your hair enhanced by the stunning tiara holding your veil in place to the knotted laces of your immaculate white wedding gown, the carefully aligned train only adding to the gleam exuded from every pore of your being.
The wedding march tune played.
Calming notes that engulfed the hall announcing the entrance of the bride, the Princess, their future Queen. Natural light falling on you as you walked with marvelous poise and grace looking ahead, batting your lashes behind your veil, such an ethereal sight that made everyone’s gaze fill with astonishment and content.
Astonished. Stupefied. Speechless.
Ransom was immobile. Completely awestruck at the angelical figure that looked like she was walking on clouds towards him, his eyes glazed with unshed tears of happiness. You were his own little piece of heaven. He knew this moment would come, but he never dreamt about it. Yet now, as he took your hand on his, dropping a chaste kiss over it and you grinned back at him, it stirred a hurricane of emotions deep on his core. He loved that you were the one standing next to him as the ceremony bound you to each other for the rest of your lives.
The words harmoniously flowed in the wind, bouncing from the majestic walls and breathtakingly striking you straight into your soul, the intensity of a supernova rushing your veins. You, the one who hastily escaped your home to earn freedom, ended up falling in love and making all your dreams come true with the man everyone thought would never willingly do so. Now you looked into his eyes, his lips lovingly repeating the vows with a beaming smile that turned your heart into mush.
He slid the ring on your finger.
The ultimate proof that will be a public declaration to others of your elevated status as Crown Princess and one day Queen of the Kingdom. But beyond that, it represented the token of love that simmered between Ransom and you, the ties that bound you.
You uttered your vows.
Unwavering voice laced with adoration, heat pooled beneath your cheeks as Ransom’s manly smell deliciously attacked your nostrils, you could see the way his eyes crinkled on the edges as his lips curved up. There was no doubt that he saw, and felt, the effect that he had on you if his darkening irises and sultry smile were any indication.
“You may now kiss the bride!” The officiant said, albeit too late as Ransom’s lips were already clashing with yours the moment the vows were exchanged. He cupped your face as he deepened the public expression that sealed your union.
The crowd cheered.
The moment you stood on the balcony, his hand held yours in a tender grip, his fingers traced loving patterns as he guided you though the hall. He grinned impossibly wider as he looked over the sea of men and women, children and families beaming at their nuptials with great eagerness. It warmed him to the core to see the effect you had on them, not only had you made your way into the cold tight-knit circle of his family, but you had also effortlessly won the people’s heart with your kindness and love.
He was besotted.
There was no questioning the magnitude of his devotion for you, not even the staring of the scornful ladies that had multiple times vied for his favor without avail. A fact that neither of you noticed as you were completely lost into each other’s arms.
“You look empyreal, my love,” he spoke in a soft voice, the firmness of his chest immediately made you imagine how it would feel to be flushed against him with no annoying fabrics in the middle. “What are you thinking about, Princess?” He lopsided smiled, keenly eyeing your shy smile that told him the tale of what lascivious images were shimming around.
“Umh…nothing--” you stuttered, a shuddering gasp escaping your tempting lips as he pulled you flush against him, the tingling on your waist where his hand lay increased by ten folds and his face was just a breath away from you. A gap that he slyly closed by brushing your cheek with his as his lips sang lustful proses on your ear.
“I want you now, wife.” He quietly said, drawing out a sharp intake of air and for the second time since meeting him, you felt that irresistible hardness of his lower body that awakened a maddening heat throbbing in between your legs. “I feel your shivering, darling…” he exhaled a hot sigh of desire that sounded somewhere between a moan and pained groan.
“Ransom!” You whispered-yelled, slightly scandalized at his innuendo. You knew that there was nothing wrong in the rising desire you felt for your now husband, but you were still a maiden oblivious to the highs that steamed in the marital bed.
“Hmm… Oh, you will be screaming my name all night,” he said with promise, giving you his best naughty smirk.
“Wh—what?” you asked, hot and bothered. A loud shriek turned everyone’s head to you as he unceremoniously tugged your hand walking towards the exit of the ball room. Knowing looks were exchanged amongst the guests, especially from your parents and in-laws.
“I hope to hear good news soon!” Queen Linda yelled, Ransom’s smile reached his ears as he startled you by scooping you on his arms, your hands tangled on his neck.
You hid your face on his chest, afraid to see the guests’ flabbergasted faces. You giggled as Ransom continued to walk at a fast pace towards your chambers, rousing an unexpected wave of exhilarating want inside you. The moment that the doors closed he kicked his boots off, your own slippers abandoning your feet as you felt the energy in the air shift, thick with the ardent passion simmering from your bodies. Your chest heaved as you nervously fidgeted with your fingers, capturing your lower lip as prisoner.
“There’s nothing to be nervous about, my love, my princess…” he softly said, his imponent figure lit by the crackling fire of the chimney exalting his perfectly sculpted body, even beneath his heavy princely attire.
He stalked you like a lion does its prey, making you shiver, but the moment that his eyes met yours you were invaded by the softness he only showed YOU. But there was also this undecipherable emotion swimming on his orbs, one that screamed fervent love, protection and care. Eyes that bewitched you, making you frozen not by fear but fascination and raw passion, an intense emotion that you felt shamelessly flow from your womanhood.
“I promised you, that one day you would be mine…” he said, tenderly cupping your face in his hands. “You’re here, now I’ll show you my love--” you gasped, melting on his arms as he worshipped your mouth so dexterously that made your toes curl, your head going lightheaded as your hands flew to the flaps of his suit. His hands skillfully removed the gorgeous jewelry piece from your head without stopping his delightful seduction.
Soon his ministrations travelled to your neck, sucking and kissing, making sure that he left his mark on you as your wanton moans fuelled his lust and sneaked his arms around you. You freely ran your phalanges on his covered muscles earning you a groan expelled from the depths of his chest, feeling him tightening his hold on you before he began the tedious task to remove the heavy gown embellishing you.
“Think that you can succeed, Your Highness?” you chuckled sensing his increasing frustration as he struggled with the tight laces of your bodice.
He halted his moves.
His stillness made you second guess your words, until you saw the mischief on his face. You gasped as he swiftly turned you around sensually whispering in your ear. “Mmm…is that a challenge I’m hearing, Your Highness?” He asked before effortlessly ripping the offending clothing off your body, you shrieked feeling the gown fall to the floor alongside your underdress and goosebumps erupted on your skin. The rough impulsive but thrilling action spiked a rush of adrenaline in your body that took your breath away.
“There’s no impossible task for me, my love.” He hoarsely said, lovingly caressing your exposed body and setting every single one of your cells on fire. A blazing inferno that grew with each touch as you naturally tilted your head to give him more roam to delectate on your sweetness. You moaned his name as his lips nibbled on the column of your neck and his arms pulled you flushed against him, softly fondling your breasts as the most delicate blooms.
“I—I…” you mumbled, whimpering at the roughness of his garments rubbing against your nakedness and grabbing his hands on yours utterly enraptured by him.
“Tell me, what do you need, my minx?” He huskily said, softly angling your head to look him in the eyes. All air caught in your throat, overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze.
“Show me more--” you whispered, biting his lip and making him groan as he turned you on his arms until you fully faced him.
“Help me,” he ordered, his dominance sending new jolts of desire through you. “Take off my clothes.” He added, placing your hands over the buttons of his shirt. You shakingly fumbled over them, not once breaking eye contact with him, until the very last one was undone. He entwined his hands with yours as you both removed the inconvenient item off him, your fingertips reveling in the godlike crevices of his musculature twitching at your lightest grazing. You were drinking the work of perfection as you hesitantly travelled down, lower and lower… until you met his breeches.
“Do it.” He demanded with a strained voice, as if he was painfully holding himself back from ravishing you but taking great delight in the build up of the moment.
You obediently did.
Slowly undoing the incompetent knot that was keeping the coveted prize hidden from you, but they were no match for you as you became the victor, releasing him with a loud moan. You boldly let your instinct guide you, taking hold of him, tentatively, alluringly so…
It was too much for him.
“Stop,” you immediately abided by his words, your eyes bulging in fear of having done something wrong on your first night. “It was perfect--” he promptly said, as if he could read your nagging thoughts with a softened expression.
“Too much, too soon… and we don’t want to finish before we even begin, do we?” He said, baffling you and evoking a fresh batch of heat to swim beneath your cheeks. “You’re adorable.” He whispered, once again capturing you in a searing kiss as he walked you both towards the bed, setting you on it with a care as if you were a porcelain doll that he could break. You were touched by his tenderness but at the same time it fed the flames emanating from your weeping core as he made it his mission to worship you as you deserved, disarming you one slow touch at the time.
“RANSOM!” You cried his name, setting his loins on fire, as if he needed any more reasons to ravish you the way that he had dreamt off for the past two months. He groaned in satisfaction, as his chest filled with pride for being the one bringing you so much pleasure.
“I know, love, I know...” he huskily said, moving up your body ever slowly, leaving a trail of passionate kisses on his way. Taking special time in that one spot on your neck that had you writhing beneath him, the softness of your breasts causing an exquisite friction on his chest that made him unconsciously trust, effectively rubbing against you. You both moaned in unexpected yet welcome pleasure.
You didn’t dare to utter a word as you heavily panted, each trying to restrain your passion, but as you were captive of each other’s eyes it all went out the window. In one swift motion he captured your lips into a kiss that made your veins feel like molten lava. His hands never stop worshipping you wholly, memorizing every curve and crevice into the depths of his mind and imprinting the image of your blissful face into his soul.
But he wasn’t the only one.
As your body reacted to him in ways beyond your comprehension, you too took your sweet time to explore and commit to memory his every line and expression, from the way that he frowned in satisfaction at the graze of your fingers to how his muscles tensed at the feel of your hands eagerly roaming over them. His penetrating gaze evoking cosmic explosions behind your closed eyelids just as much as you threw him under an irresistible spell.
“This shall pain you a little, but I swear to bring you unimaginable pleasure...” he breathily said, as his hand got lost in between your bodies. A gasp escaped your lips as you felt him probe at your entrance, the resistance of your virtue calling for every bit of strength within his soul not to snap.
You silently nodded, submitting to him as a powerful thrust broke the barrier into your womanhood, forever branding you as his. A connection like no other that shook you both to the core beyond what any of you had ever experienced.
“You feel incredible...” he exhaled, dropping hot kisses on your ear as you grew accustomed to the unfamiliar invasion. The moment that your walls constricted him, he was gone.
Many women had enjoyed his incomparable skills beneath the sheets, but none had made him feel the way you did. You had stolen his heart and bonded your souls, as you fell prey to the most primal desires of the marital bed.
“I’m gonna put my heir inside you,” he said through labored breath, slowly building up a rhythm for both of your enjoyment, his words making your walls clench in agreement. There was no denying how much you wanted exactly the same as him. “You want that, don’t you? Grow big with my children, give birth to many offspring to our kingdom?” He marked each of his words with a fervent kiss and a perfectly aimed thrust, reaching to places you didn’t know that existed. You couldn’t do more than moan his name, as any pain faded away giving room to unexplainable rapture.
Your nails raked his back, pulling him impossibly closer to you as your legs lifted on their own accord around his waist, earning you a deep groan from him. The change in angle allowed for sensations that surpassed your umbral of bliss. He kissed your tears away, feeling the eruption of pride inside his chest, you were his woman, wantonly calling his name as he dedicated every ounce of his energy into showing you just how much he loved you, wanted you, needed you.
“You’re MINE, my Prince,” you possessively said, shocked at your own boldness and gasping as the lust in his eyes seemed to grow impossibly darker, making you dig the balls of your feet into him, pushing him deeper and deeper.
You drew breath in sharply as you felt him entwine his hands with yours, pulling them above your head as he drove faster and harder each time. Once again, you felt the burning tightening on your walls until you couldn’t take it anymore, you held him tight as the euphoric currents strummed your every nerve termination, creating the most beautiful symphony of pleasure. The almost painful constriction on him, the unleashing force behind him coating your womb with his seed, as a feeling of completion engulfed you both with the clamor of your names. All the repressed tension being released at once and filling the air in the smell of your consummation.
You were his. He was yours.
You smiled, tangled in each other’s arms, basking in the post-coital afterglow and the realization that those hot dreams you had of him pleasuring you were nothing compared with the riveting reality. Your softness, a vibrant contrast with his firmness, both bodies glistening with a sheen layer of sweat as your hearts still thrummed with ardor. You felt complete, loved, his possessive yet loving hand sprawled over your lower belly. He didn’t have to say anything, for you knew what he was thinking. You both silently but fervently wished for a babe to take, if not this night then soon, as he or she would be the fruit of your love, the proof of your joined fates and the future of your kingdom.
He looked into your eyes.
“I love you,” he said. “I did from the moment I met you and now I’m never letting you go, my Princess, My Queen…” he softly said, placing a kiss on your forehead, the solemn promise of his eternal devotion.
“I love you too, my dashing prince--” you beamed, as he once again took you to the highs of passion. An intense night spent without knowing that, just ten full moons later, Prince Maxen Harlon Drysdale-Thrombey would be born at the wee hours of day, bringing immeasurable joy and blessings to their lives and marking the beginning of what would become a wonderful fairytale, the epic love you had both dreamed of.
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A/N: Thank you so uch for reading! Especially for putting up with me and any historical innacuracies and grammar errors that could be found here. You might have noticed that I modeled reader's styling as Princess and Duchess based of the current British succession line (When Prince William one day ascends to the British Throne, his daughter Princess Charlotte of Cambridge will naturally inherit her mother Catherine's styling as The Duchess of Cambridge- unless I got this whole thing wrong but that's another topic!😅). And this was mostly my self-indulgent fic that connected that darkish aura of Ransom with this deep passionate yet loving side of him that I personally imagine him having, plus my own clichéd notions of 'Disney-esque' romance.
Thank you for the support! 💖💖💖
Tag: @cevansgirl @patzammit @icanfeelastormbrewing @connie326 @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @donutloverxo
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the-iceni-bitch · 25 days ago
Gun Shy
Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x fem!Reader (OTP)
Words: ~2.3k
Summary: A direct follow up to Accidents Happen, where Ransom has a little trouble adjusting after your pregnancy scare.
Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (f and m receiving oral sex, mentions of fingering, protected and unprotected vaginal sex), soft Ransom, fluff, mentions of injuries and abortion, SMUT!!! 18+ ONLY!!!
A/N: I am killing myself with these two, you guys. Why have I made them so soft?! Why are they so cute?! I need to write some filthy shit for them after this because my teeth hurt from how damn sweet they are.
Check out my masterlist and check out my taglist if you want!!!
Divider by @firefly-graphics
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Something was going on with your boyfriend.
He’d been acting squirrely ever since you came home from the hospital. Yeah, you needed to take things a little slower than you normally would since you had several broken bones and had to take a couple days after your abortion for recovery, but you both had such high sex drives you thought he would have been on you as soon as you gave him the ok.
And he had, kind of. Ransom had buried his face between your thighs almost immediately, moaning into your pussy when he finally tasted you after three days of nothing. You lost count of the number of times you came against his face, melting every time he came up for air to make sure you were ok and he wasn’t hurting you. But every time you begged him for his cock he just shook his head and dove back in until you forgot what you were saying, even though he was basically humping the mattress.
When you woke up the next day with his morning wood rubbing against your stomach, you thought he was finally going to give you what you needed. Then he dragged you off when you tried to crawl on top of him until you were straddling his face and he ate you out again like he was a starving man, slapping your hand away every time you tried to reach back and wrap it around him.
Even though you were completely lost in your own pleasure you wanted to help him out, but he wasn’t letting you. Once you had tapped out you tried to convince him to let you suck him off because the poor thing looked painful as fuck, and he just muttered a brush off and scurried away to the bathroom, You gave a huff of dissatisfaction when you heard him start the shower, getting out of the bed with the intention of joining him but he’d locked the fucking door.
You had to put up with that type of shit for almost a week. It’s not like you could complain too much, the man was a damn artist with his mouth and fingers and making you come until you couldn’t talk was one of his favorite things. But whenever you tried to reciprocate he would practically run away from you, locking himself in the bathroom while you pouted. It had been too many times that you’d walked in there after he’d locked himself away for a half hour to the overwhelming smell of cum and an abundance of tissues in the wastebasket.
Right before you thought you were going to lose it he finally caved and let you wrap your lips around his cock after a very heavy makeout session, mostly because you managed to move faster than he expected you could with your arm in a sling. The sound he made when you took him down your throat almost made you come in your panties, it felt like it had been forever since he had given you one of those pathetic moans. 
“Honey, fuck, wait a second.” He tried to crawl away from you when you attempted to climb into his lap, determined to finally feel that thick cock of his stretch you open deliciously. “Uh, I just wanna come all over that pretty face of yours.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” You rolled your eyes as you started jerking him off, running your lips over his tip softly and scowling at him. “We’re going to talk about this once you’re finished though.”
“Talk about what? Oh fuck, baby.” His look of feigned innocence dissolved quickly once you sucked his balls between your lips and gave them a soft tug. “God that feels good.”
“I bet it does after being stuck with nothing but your own hands for a fucking week and a half.” You grumbled, flicking your tongue over his slit and smirking when he dropped his head back against the couch. “Just imagine how good my tight little pussy would feel. Don’t you wanna stuff my pretty cunt full of this perfect cock, puppy?”
“Christ.” His cock twitching in your palm was the only warning you had, barely getting your eyes closed before he was shooting an absurd amount of cum all over your face and rolling his body off the couch from the force of it. “God, sorry honey.”
“Why are you apologizing?” He was starting to freak you out, he loved coming all over you. Your eyes were still screwed shut when you felt him running a cloth over your face. “Oh my god, why are you using a washcloth?”
“What, I’m just cleaning you up?” You opened your eyes to see him with that cagey look on his face and you almost lost your cool.
“What the fuck is going on with you?” He looked like he was going to try to dodge and you crawled beside him and grabbed his face to turn it towards yours. 
“Nothing? Ransom, you haven’t fucked me in almost two weeks.” This asshole had better start spilling soon or you might have to slap him. “This is the first time you’ve let me touch your dick in that same amount of time. Don’t tell me nothing is going on, I usually have to fight you off with a bat.”
“I’m worried about your injuries?” He was trying to avoid eye contact with you but your grip on his jaw was painful.
“Liar. Try a statement instead of a question Hugh.” Your voice was starting to get that low threatening air that made him want to give you anything you wanted. “Why won’t you fuck me?”
“Shit, baby.” He whined when you leaned forward and nipped at his bottom lip. “I’m just kind of freaked out after our little scare.”
“Aww, I’m still on birth control, Ran.” When did he start being so fucking adorable? It was killing you. “There’s nothing to worry about.”
“But you were on birth control when it happened.” You started running your fingers through his hair and he felt himself starting to relax. “And I can’t have a fucking kid.”
“Baby, we’re not gonna have a kid.” You cooed, scooting closer to him as you massaged his scalp. “And this was a fluke. I’ve missed you so much, Ran.”
“God, I’ve missed you too, Y/N.” He groaned against your mouth when you bent forward to catch his lips with yours. “Still freaking out though.”
“So, you’ll wrap it up until you’re not.” You grinned when he gave you a low purr as you wound your arms around his neck. “Would that make you feel better?”
“Yeah, I think it would.” He pulled you to straddle his lap with a warm smile and curled his hands around your waist. “What positions can we even do with you in that sling?”
“You’re gonna have to get used to me being on top for a while.” 
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You’d thought that after a few days of extra protected sex, your touch starved boyfriend would be back to fucking you raw and filling you with that thick white mess that warmed your whole body.
You were very wrong.
The boy had been fucking double wrapping for a month. Granted, he did last a little longer and he still made sure you were taken care of, but you wanted to feel every vein and ridge of that pretty cock drag through your soaked channel. You were pretty sure he’d even faked it a couple of times and still finished himself off in the bathroom because he was so fucking gun shy.
It was making you so goddamn frustrated. You loved when he came inside you. He loved coming inside you. His fucking home screen was a photo of his cum leaking out of your swollen pussy because he was a nasty freak. 
Your sling was finally off and you were ready to get some of that absolutely filthy shit you had been missing. You were over the hand holding, soft testing of the waters that you’d had to fucking deal with and were ready to just push him into the fucking pool already. If you had to tie him to the goddamn bed you would do it. 
So you put on some lingerie, shaved everywhere you hadn’t been able to reach with only one arm, and were waiting for him to get back after he had gone to help Harlan with something. You grinned when you heard the front door open, the dog running out of the room to greet his friend with his favorite duck in his mouth.
“Hey there bud, where’s your mom?” Fuck if that didn’t give you a pang right in the ovaries. God he was cute with that furry moron. You were going to ruin him.
“In the bedroom!” You called, maneuvering yourself into one of those poses that you knew made him absolutely feral. 
“Hey… fuck.” He stopped dead once he spotted you, his lips spreading in a slow smile as he took you in. “Your sling’s gone.”
“It sure is.” You beamed at him and twisted your hips a little until he let out a low growl. “Doc gave the ok for me to resume all regular activities.”
“God, that’s fantastic.” He rumbled, starting to tear his clothes off in a frenzy. “You look amazing.”
“I know.” You teased, laughing lightly when he pounced on top of you and bent to devour your mouth with his. “Now rip these off and fuck me stupid.”
“Yeah, those are staying on.” He purred, rubbing his nose over your throat and reaching towards the nightstand.
You rolled your eyes and grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand back towards your face and sucking his fingers between your lips while you wrapped your legs around his hips.
“Baby, I was just gonna grab some condoms.” He muttered, frowning a little as he watched you suck on his fingers and tried to ignore the way you were grinding your pelvis against his.
“No, you’re not.” You murmured, nipping at his fingertips and reaching your free hand between the two of you to wrap around his cock. “You’re finally gonna fuck me raw, Hugh.”
“Honey...shit.” He gave a small sound of surprise when you rolled the two of you over until you were straddling him. “I dunno…”
“God, Ran.” You rested your forehead against his and gave a deep sigh. “Baby, I fucking love you, and if you wanna wear condoms and pull out for the rest of our lives then I’ll make it work. But first, you better tell me that you haven’t missed my tight, wet, warm pussy wrapped around that fat cock of yours at all.”
“Fuck.” His chest was heaving as he thought about it, because of course he’d fucking missed it, he wasn’t an idiot. “Turn around, I wanna watch that ass while I fuck your sweet little cunt.”
“That’s my good boy.” You cooed, nipping at his bottom lip before sitting up and turning around. 
Both of you let out absolutely obscene moans when you shoved your panties aside and sank down on him, your pussy fluttering wildly around him once he was fully sheathed in you and you could finally feel every inch of the smooth, steely length of him molding perfectly to you.
“Oh my fucking god.” He felt like he was going to lose it, you felt so fucking amazing he was afraid he was going to come immediately. “Why did I ever start wearing condoms?”
“Because you’re an adorable nervous baby.” You teased, rising up slowly on your knees until only his tip was nestled between your swollen folds before dropping back down with a huff and grinning when you felt his body jolt. “That feel ok, puppy?”
“You’re a damn menace.” He growled, arching into you when you started riding him in earnest, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass as he tried to keep from going absolutely crazy when you clenched around him. “Honey, fuck, I’m not gonna last long.”
The sight of your back arching with pleasure was too much for him and he sat up with a low grunt, wrapping an arm around your waist and burying his face in your shoulder. You reached behind you to wind your fingers through his hair as he sucked a bruise below your ear, moaning when his other hand moved up to palm your breast almost painfully.
“Jesus, Ran.” You could feel your pleasure gathering fast and arched into his grasp. “God, I need your cum. Fill me up and fuck it into me.”
“Shit, I love you so much.” He turned your face so he could press his lips to yours, swallowing your soft moans greedily. “I need you to come for me first, Y/N. Can you do that for me, honey?”
“Yeah.” You gasped into his mouth, your whole body trying to arch off the bed as the coiled pleasure snapped in your abdomen.
Ransom growled when you screamed his name, his arms wrapping around you and holding you tightly to him as your release soaked his cock and the insides of your thighs. He was right behind you, shouting your name in a hoarse cry as his hips stuttered and he shot thick ropes of cum into you, coating your soft walls in white heat before he was sagging back into the bed and taking you with him.
“Fuck, honey.” He panted, pressing his lips to your hair in a gentle kiss and grinning. “So, we’re staying like this for the rest of the day, right? Gotta make up for lost time.”
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autumnrose40 · 27 days ago
RUBY Chapter 1
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Soft Dark Serial Killer Steve Rogers/Female Reader ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Steve had everything he needed. Gag, soft rope, blind fold. Chloroform if need be, thanks to his cousin Ransom. More like a very distant cousin, but whatever, he was the only family Steve had in this new world. The 40’s were gone, long gone. Aliens from the sky will really put things into perspective.
He needed a change.
Part of that change was what he did in his down time, the other….well that was you.
He knew enough about you to start finding out everything. As much as he could anyway. You didn’t have any friends. No more family. You were all alone, sad even. He’d seen it the day he first ran into you at the museum. The smile didn’t reach your eyes, they held sadness, and plenty of it.
It had sucked Steve in, this need to make you happy after that day.
Now here he was, doing….yet another shady thing, but it’s not like he was going to hurt you, oh no, he just wanted to take care of you, but he didn’t see you dating him, you didn’t date anyone. This was the best way.
Kidnapping was harmless compared to what he normally does in his free time.
He sneaks in through your bedroom window, the fire escape in the perfect spot for him to get in. When you suddenly flick on the bedroom light he freezes, wide eyed and shocked, he thought you would be sleeping.
He’s about to leap at you, keep you silent but you just...stare at him, tears running down your cheeks, his brow furrows taking you in. You look like shit, and there's empty pill bottles all over the place, with the pills on the bed in front of you.
It’s a nice and neat pile of them and Steve starts panicking, you want to leave him, “Sweetheart…” he whispers, shocked not knowing what to do.
This wasn’t in his plans.
“Are you going to kill me?” you finally speak, asking in a defeated tone, dull even, like you’ve given up.
“No, no never, I could never hurt you.”
This actually seems to upset you more, “That’s a real shame.” you mumble looking down at the pills.
Steve slowly puts down his backpack full of his supplies and comes near you, you don’t care if he does, you just look at him so depressed and hurting, Steve can’t stand it, he carefully sits next to you on the bed, “I don’t want you to die.” he swears so firmly, tears in his own eyes.
“You would be the only one.” you say as more tears run down your cheeks.
“Honey…..” he’s at a loss, but he won’t lose you.
He frames your face, you let him, you gaze up at him looking so broken down by the world, Steve knows that look well, he sported it after first coming out of the ice, “I know you don’t know me, but I’ve seen you, you always look so sad, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you, you’re all I can think about when I wake up and when I go to sleep, I want you so much.”
You cry more, your small hands wrapping around his wrist as his hands continue to frame your face as you listen, your bottom lip trembles, you try to shake your head, “No one cares about me, I've been alone so long.”
“Oh baby, I care about you, I want you so badly, please, let me have you, love you.”
You simply sob at his words, it didn't matter he was a stranger to you, the fact that someone saw you, wanted you even, it was so much to take in, when the strangers arms hug you tight to his body, you give into his touch even more. His big arms wrapping around you making you feel loved.
Any outside person would find this fucked up, you shouldn’t be craving a strangers touch, let alone one who broke into your apartment, but then most people didn’t know the pain you carried everyday of your life. If a stranger's simple touch could do this to you, you clearly were worse off than you thought.
You don’t fight him when he says he wants to take you back to his home, Steve never has to touch any of the things in his backpack, you go with him willingly, never looking back.
Music Muse:
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autumnrose40 · 29 days ago
Ransom finding a baby in the woods by his house
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Ransom Drysdale/A Found Baby ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ransom didn't do babies. They smelled, they cried, very loudly he might add. They demanded his time 24/7. And yet.....
As Ransom looks down at the little baby girl on his bed, on his silk sheets that cost more then the sweater he had on, he can't find it in himself to turn the baby away. She was a cute little doll.
All curly blonde hair and blue eyes. A real stunner even as a baby. He has no idea how old she is, he doesn't know what she likes or dislikes, but he couldn't leave her out in the woods when he was out on a walk.
He was a asshole, but he wasn't a monster.
He fears she will be taken from him, so he can't call anyone. What he can do is order everything she needs online. In the meantime, he heats up some milk for her. He has no diapers for her, so old shirts of his it is.
He doesn't dare go out to a store himself or ask his house keeper to do it, the less questions the better. He doesn't know where this....need to keep her comes from, but it's there and he doesn't want to share her.
He doesn't want the world to take away something so bright, something soft and sweet, who looks up at him with a gummy smile and trust in her little eyes.
Ransom doesn't want to lose how she feels in his arms as he holds her close, feeding her a bottle of milk. He doesn't want to lose rocking her gently as he sings for her.
He doesn't want to lose the one thing in this world that needs him, likes him.
And he won't.
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dadplease · 29 days ago
softie | chapter eight: for the first time.
← last chapter | series masterlist | next chapter (coming soon!) →
summary | ransom drysdale is the last person anyone would suspect to be a doting father. but when a paternity test reveals his relation to four year old georgia pine, the man finds himself turning into quite the softie for the peculiar little girl who’s been in such desperate need of his love and care.
warnings | mature themes related to child abuse/neglect, ptsd/trauma symptoms in a child (developmental discrepancies, de-humanized behavior, detachment, extreme fears). loss(mother) and gain(father) of custody. unknown/secret child trope. soft!ransom, soft!dad!ransom. lots of hurt/comfort.
As soon as Georgia’s wide eyes land on the two plates of food sitting on the kitchen counter, her legs freeze beneath her, startling Ransom as the little girl comes to a halt. Following her gaze to the steaming meal, the man frowns, now remembering the problems the child seems to face whenever offered food. Bottom lip trembling, Georgia swallows, the lump in her throat so big that Ransom can hear as she tries to make it disappear.
Turning back to face the anxiety-stricken girl, Ransom explains evenly, “I made us a nice breakfast. There’s eggs, toast, and sausage. You can have milk if you like, or I have orange juice. I wasn’t sure which you’d prefer.”
Barely able to look up at him, Georgia stumbles over her words. “I… can’t, sir… not allowed… can only have scraps.”
With guilt rising in his chest, Ransom does his best to put on a gentle smile, shaking his head at the child’s distressing words. “In this house, Georgia, you’re allowed to eat whatever you want. There’s plenty of food for the both of us, both in the fridge and in the cabinets. Scraps aren’t enough, sweetheart; you need real food to make you healthy and strong.” Though his words are meant to soothe the little one’s fears, Ransom frowns as he sees they’ve instead only worsened her state of panic. “Hey,” he hums, lowering himself to the ground to get even with the girl. “It’s alright, I know this must be scary. We’ll take things slow; it’s okay to have an adjusting period. How can I help you feel safer?”
Gulping again, Georgia attempts to blink back the tears in her eyes. “Sh-shred it up again? Maybe… won’t get in trouble that way.”
Nodding, Ransom agrees. “Alright, sweetheart. I can do that for you, but I want you to know that even if you ate the food just as it is, there would be no getting in trouble for you. You’re never going to be in trouble with me, alright? If something comes up, all we’ll do is talk about it. But I won’t ever discipline you like you were before; what happened to you was cruel and wrong.”
Georgia blinks, not seeming to know how to answer Ransom’s truthful words. Understanding, the man returns to his feet, letting go of the little girl’s hand as he makes his way over to the counter. “Y’know, guess it isn’t such a bad idea to cut this all up and throw it together,” he tries to lighten the mood as he prepares the food to the child’s preference, trying to make it look like a nice breakfast mash on the plate. Pausing for a moment, Ransom asks, “Is it alright with you if I shred mine up, too? Looks yummy this way!” he comments.
Looking up at him with wide eyes, Georgia surprises Ransom by nodding, a tiny hint of wonder shimmering in her gaze. Smiling down at her, the man grabs the food, carrying it to the table before pausing again. “Would you like to sit up at the table, sweetheart? It’s okay if you’d prefer the floor again, too. Just wanna do whatever’s most comfortable for you.”
Padding her socked feet over softly to stand at Ransom’s side, Georgia requests politely, “Floor… please? Can’t sit up there, not allowed.”
“Well sure you’re allowed, honey, but if you’d feel better sitting on the rug, of course we can. Would it be okay for me to sit down here with you?” Ransom asks as he folds his legs under him, setting the plates down on the woven fabric as he turns back to look at the child beside him. Eyes still wide, Georgia nods, as if she was completely expecting to have to sit through another meal at the man’s feet. “Great, thank you,” Ransom says with a smile as he gets back on his feet, “I’d much rather sit with you and keep you company instead of being all by myself. Now which would you like, sweetheart, some milk or some orange juice?”
“I- just… w-water?” Georgia questions, a look of uncertainty unfolding on her tender face.
“Sure thing, kiddo. You want ice in there?” Making sure to keep his expression friendly as she politely shakes her head, Ransom nods, going into an overhead cabinet and searching around. “Let’s see… the normal ones might be a little heavy for you,” he thinks aloud, grinning when his eyes land on a set of floral patterned paper cups. Grabbing one for the child, he walks to the sink, filling it a little more than half-way before grabbing his own drink, a glass of milk that’s been sitting out since the man prepared the meal.
“This look okay?” Ransom asks as he returns to their spot on the rug, handing the little girl the cup. “We can get you some fun cups when we go out shopping later, but for now, I bet this’ll be much easier than my big clunky glasses.”
“Y-yes, thank you,” little Georgia stutters, big eyes admiring the pretty flowers covering the cup.
“You like the design? I bet we can find all sorts of cool patterns at the store. Maybe even some Disney ones!”
“D-Disney?” the girl repeats as the pair take a seat on the rug, slowly beginning to eat their meal together.
“That’s the kind of movie you were watching last night,” Ransom tells her as he chews a bite of egg. “It’s called The Little Mermaid, it’s one of the best.”
“Mer-maid,” Georgia says slowly, a small smile forming on her face as she takes a bite of her own food. “So cool! Sings so pretty, too,” the little girl beams.
“That’s right, she is cool, isn’t she? And that voice, wish I could sing like that. Her name’s Ariel, by the way,” Ransom informs the child, an adoring smile crossing his face as he watches Georgia almost bouncing in her seat with delight.
“Ariel!” Georgia cheers, and as she thumps her foot excitedly while taking her next bite, for a moment, Ransom feels as if he’s in a way meeting his daughter for the first time in his life. For a split second, all of her fears and cares have disappeared; the walls she was forced to build up so high to protect herself have come crumbling down, revealing just Georgia: untainted, untouched.
“-under the sea, under the sea!” the girl sings softly, bringing Ransom back from his trailing thoughts. Chuckling, Ransom takes a sip of his milk, sighing happily as he thinks to himself, boy, this can’t be good. Not even a day in and she’s already got me wrapped around her finger. Maybe we should look for an Ariel doll at the store.
“You wanna go shopping after breakfast, sweetheart?” Ransom asks, his heart aching a little to see the smile beginning to fade from Georgia’s shining face.
“I… b-but… don’t have any money,” the child opposes once again.
Shaking his head patiently, Ransom gently reminds her, “That’s alright, honey. You’re not expected to pay for anything, okay? Not a single thing while you’re here. Money and stuff like that is for grown-ups to worry about, yeah?” Frowning, Georgia doesn’t respond. “And if you’re gonna be here for the next few days, at least, then I think we’re gonna need a little bit more than just the car seat your social worker provided and the bag of shit from Meg.”
“Shit,” Georgia repeats innocently, eyes widening as Ransom fumbles to take back his words.
“I-I meant ‘stuff’, bag of stuff. Must’ve just- I just said it wrong,” he coughs, unable to keep from laughing slightly as the poor girl continues to look up at him obliviously. “Anyway, as I was saying, we can throw together a list before we go and just pick up the essentials for now, how’s that sound? There’s even an ice cream place on the way back. You have a favorite flavor?” he asks.
“Ice cream,” Georgia says, eyes now wider than ever before. “Never had it,” she admits, “but saw it once, maybe in a book.”
“Never had ice cream?” Ransom fakes shock, clasping his hand over his chest dramatically to earn a round of giggles from the little girl. “Well then, we must stop and get some. It’s one of the essentials, that’s for sure.”
“You’ve had it?” Georgia asks through a bite of her toast, causing Ransom to nod playfully.
“Maybe a few more times than medically advised, but yes, sweetheart. I’ve had ice cream. I think strawberry’s the best, though chocolate comes in a close second. The place we’ll stop at has a ton of flavors; they’ve got an entire board up with all the names and pictures. Don’t you worry, kiddo. We’re gonna make sure your first ice cream experience is nothing but the best.”
“Allowed to eat it, too?” Georgia asks softly, Ransom’s heart breaking at the thought of the child being bought such a special treat only to not be able to enjoy it.
“Of course you’re allowed to, silly,” the man assures her gently, locking eyes with her in hopes of showing her he means it. “You and me can eat it together; they’ve got a nice set of benches right outside, okay?”
“O-okay,” Georgia reluctantly agrees, surprising Ransom a little by smiling up at him softly. “Thank you, Mr. Ransom.”
“Just Ransom is fine, sweetheart,” he replies, trying to keep his voice from catching in his throat. “And it’s no problem, honey. Really, it’s my pleasure.”
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dadplease · 29 days ago
softie | chapter seven: a new day.
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summary | ransom drysdale is the last person anyone would suspect to be a doting father. but when a paternity test reveals his relation to four year old georgia pine, the man finds himself turning into quite the softie for the peculiar little girl who’s been in such desperate need of his love and care.
warnings | mature themes related to child abuse/neglect, ptsd/trauma symptoms in a child (developmental discrepancies, de-humanized behavior, detachment, extreme fears). loss(mother) and gain(father) of custody. unknown/secret child trope. soft!ransom, soft!dad!ransom. lots of hurt/comfort.
When morning finally comes, Ransom wakes slowly to the gentle rays of the sun shining in through the large glass doors in front of him, gradually warming his face as his eyes begin to flutter open. Looking around, he finds himself lying out flat on his back with little Georgia still wrapped up in the brown blanket with her head now tucked under his chin. Her breaths are quiet and even against the man as he brings a hand up to wrap around her back, holding her steady against him as he shifts up to a sitting position. Thankfully, the movement doesn’t seem to stir the child in the least. Sighing, Ransom decides to take another chance and rise to his feet, carefully making his way over to the cream colored couch and settling down against the soft cushions which prove to be much more comfortable than the wooden floor.
Glancing over at the large decorative clock on the wall, he sees that it’s nearing 8:00 am. Slept surprisingly well, given the circumstances, he notes to himself. Looking down at the little girl curled up in his arms, his heart breaks a little at the tears still stained onto her freckled cheeks. Kid sleeps like a rock, he chuckles to himself quietly. Makes sense, though. After a nightmare like that…
Ransom’s thoughts are interrupted by a low grumbling in his stomach. Might be time for some breakfast, he supposes. Glancing at the empty portion of the couch beside him, he sighs, not liking the idea of putting the little girl down. It’ll only take fifteen minutes, tops, he reassures himself, though still groaning a little as he shifts Georgia over against one of the throw pillows, making sure her blanket is situated with her lamb near her face before he pulls away. Pausing for a moment, he looks over the child once more. “Looks more like her dad than I thought,” he whispers, noticing a few features of her face that match up almost perfectly to his: her heavy eyelashes, sharp jawline, and of course, the adorable patches of freckles covering her nose and cheeks. “Alright, kiddo. I’m gonna go make us something to eat,” he murmurs to her softly, even though he’s certain she can’t hear him.
Rising up from the couch, Ransom’s sure to be quiet as he makes his way into the kitchen, quickly pulling out what he needs to make a nice breakfast of eggs, toast, and sausage. Soon, two pans are heating on the stove as the man whisks, pours, and tosses, the warm scent of the food rising up through the entire first floor as he cooks away. Before long, the food’s finished and plated, dishes rinsed and tossed in the dishwasher under the counter. Checking the time before heading back out to the living room, Ransom’s relieved to find he’s only been away for fourteen minutes.
As he approaches the couch where Georgia lies once more, Ransom can’t help from smiling softly as he sees the little child curled up where he left her, thumb tucked into her mouth as she sleeps peacefully. Lowering himself gently to the ground, he takes a seat in front of her, almost wondering if it wouldn’t be best to just let her continue to rest.
Don’t want the food to get cold, he ultimately decides after a few minutes of just watching the girl sleep. As gently as he can, he reaches out his hand, placing it on her shoulder through the soft fabric of the blanket before beginning to speak in a low, soothing voice. “Georgia. Georgia, hey.” As he shakes her shoulder a bit, the child’s heavy eyelids begin to flutter, soon opening up to reveal her wide bambi eyes.
At the sight of Ransom so close to her face, Georgia flinches and drops her thumb, appearing startled as she stares back at the man in front of her. “Oh, sorry,” he says quickly, pulling his hand back and frowning. “Didn’t mean to startle you. I made us some- oh, hey,” he begins to fuss gently at the child as she begins to shake, squirming slightly in the blanket she’s wrapped up in as her wide eyes dart around in disorientation.
“Oh, bet you’re a little confused, huh?” Ransom figures, trying to send her a comforting smile as he explains, “I came down last night and you didn’t seem very comfortable on the floor. Decided to- uh, to give you a blanket and move you somewhere a little softer. That’s all,” he soothes, wishing he knew how to make her terrified expression disappear.
“Sh-Sheepy,” the girl whimpers, tears building up in her eyes as her bottom lip wobbles.
“Sheepy? Oh- oh, here,” Ransom says, reaching out and pushing the plush toy up closer to the child’s face. Georgia flinches back harshly at his nearing hand, causing the man’s heart to break right in two. “Hey,” he murmurs, brow creasing in worry as he looks at the trembling girl. “He’s right here, see? Made sure he stayed with you. His name’s Sheepy? Makes sense,” Ransom speaks softly, trying to help her settle. At the sight of the object, a hint of relief forms on Georgia’s face as she wraps her arms around it, letting out a bit of a sigh.
“You think Sheepy’s hungry?” Ransom tries, causing the small child before him to frown.
“Doesn’t eat p-people food,” she tells him.
“Oh, hmm. I guess that makes sense; what kind of food does he eat then?” Ransom plays along with a bit of a smile.
After thinking for a moment, Georgia gives a simple response. “Grass.”
Nodding, Ransom agrees, “Ah. I see, s’ppose you must be right. It would be silly to give him eggs or toast, wouldn’t it?” That causes a tiny smile to form on Georgia’s face as she giggles softly, an overwhelming warmth falling over Ransom as he gazes lovingly at the child. “Well, even if the food isn’t isn’t suitable for him, d’you think Sheepy would still like to join us for breakfast?”
Thinking for a moment, Georgia nods. “C-can bring him with?” she asks carefully to confirm.
Ransom nods with a gentle smile. “Sure thing, kiddo. Now let’s get going, before the eggs get cold.” Scooting back to allow the child room to get up, he watches as she unwraps herself from the blanket, still holding on tight to her toy as she hops off the couch and onto her feet. Rising on his own two legs, Ransom offers the little girl a hand, his heart breaking all over again when she flinches back from the gesture, wincing her eyes shut. “Oh, hey,” he says softly, deciding it would probably be best to just address the issue head on at this point instead of continuing to push it off in hopes of her fears lessening. As he looks down at Georgia, the small child’s eyes still shut as she trembles uncontrollably, Ransom once again pictures himself at that age, in such desperate need of someone to get down on his level and speak to him simply.
Taking a deep breath, Ransom lowers himself back down to his knees. “Georgia,” he calls, his voice barely above a whisper. Georgia flinches again at his voice, causing the man to furrow his brow in concern. “Georgia, hey. It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. Can you open your eyes for me please?”
Looking as though she feels like she has no choice, the little girl obeys, her eyes fluttering open to reveal two pools of tears about to overflow. “Oh sweetheart,” he murmurs, the term of endearment slipping off of his tongue as if it’s something he’s been saying his whole life. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to frighten you. I was just gonna let you hold my hand if you wanted, that’s all.”
“‘m sorry,” Georgia whimpers, only causing Ransom’s worry to grow.
“Sorry? What are you sorry for?” he asks, his voice dripping with concern.
“W-will stop… b-being a cryb-b-baby,” she hiccups. “Really sorry.” At the girl’s words, Ransom visibly deflates, sighing as his head begins to pound with guilt.
“Georgia, listen to me, please,” he requests, only earning an obedient nod as the child attempts to reign in her tears. “I-I’m sorry I called you that,” Ransom says sincerely, giving his first real apology in possibly his entire life. “I was… I wasn’t thinking right yesterday. But I promise from now on, I’m gonna do better. It was something wrong with me, okay? There’s nothing wrong with you crying. You… you’ve been through a lot, Georgia. I know… I know this must be difficult for you. So it’s okay to cry, okay? I won’t get upset with you for it.” Blinking away the last of her tears, Georgia simply sniffles, looking at the man in front of her with a mixture of disbelief and wariness.
“And Georgia?” Ransom continues.
“Hmm?” the little girl replies.
“I know it’s gonna take some time and getting used to, but I just need you to know: I’m not going to hurt you. I know you’ll still get scared sometimes and that’s fine; it’s all you’ve ever known. But I just want to make a promise to you, a promise that while you’re here, staying with me, nobody’s gonna hurt you. Okay?”
Seeming to fail at finding a response, Georgia simply nods, causing Ransom to smile softly. “Okay. Then, do you want to hold my hand?” he offers again, holding it out for her once more. And to his surprise, and more importantly his relief, Ransom’s offer is accepted as the child places her tiny hand down carefully in his.
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dadplease · 29 days ago
softie | chapter six: to leave her there.
← last chapter | series masterlist | next chapter →
summary | ransom drysdale is the last person anyone would suspect to be a doting father. but when a paternity test reveals his relation to four year old georgia pine, the man finds himself turning into quite the softie for the peculiar little girl who’s been in such desperate need of his love and care.
warnings | mature themes related to child abuse/neglect, ptsd/trauma symptoms in a child (developmental discrepancies, de-humanized behavior, detachment, extreme fears). loss(mother) and gain(father) of custody. unknown/secret child trope. soft!ransom, soft!dad!ransom. lots of hurt/comfort.
Sleep does not come easily to Ransom. He tosses and turns for what feels like an eternity in his cold, oversized bed, trying his hardest to not think about the four year old little girl curled up just inside his front door. But ultimately, his efforts are futile. When sleep finally finds the man, he drifts off with the salt of his tears soaking into his pillow, a heavy lump still caught in his throat.
And in stark contrast to his usually empty slumber, as soon as Ransom’s eyes have closed for good his mind is filled with dreams. Mostly coming in flashes of only a few seconds, he finds himself traversing back through his childhood, catching a glimpse of a birthday party here, a few moments of a school event there. Running through the woods with the boys from his neighborhood, setting nets in the cool brown waters of the Massachusetts creeks and waiting quietly in the reeds. Sports games on the playground and starry nights in hammocks under the moon, the memories are flooded with the gentle scent of pine and bonfires, filled with distant songs from the radio and one of the neighborhood boy’s guitars; everything is soft and safe and familiar, all in its place, until-
“Mom? Dad?”
A young boy’s voice rings through Ransom’s mind, one he quickly recognizes to be his own. Blinking through tears, his eyes focus on what’s now in front of him: a car pulling out of a familiar driveway; he soon realizes he’s standing in the doorway to his childhood home.
“Leaving me here,” he’s said before the words even register in his mind. “Gonna leave me here, just like always. Just like they always do.” Ransom isn’t sure how old he is, or where his parents are even going, but he is surely no stranger to the betrayal rising up in his throat as his eyes darken, the edges of his vision turning red. His fists curl painfully, but the worst part is, he knows he’s not even angry. He’s just hurt. He’s just afraid.
Stepping back into the house, he closes the door shut, catching a glimpse of himself in the reflection of the glass. Two tear-filled eyes gaze back at him, and before he can even blink, the grey in them has shifted to a soft, bambi brown. Standing there, Ransom realizes it’s now a small and frightened Georgia staring back at him, the old driveway behind her disappearing as its replaced with the darkness of the night. Georgia doesn’t even have to open her mouth; she speaks to the shaken man before her with her eyes. Her words are somewhat of an echo of what he was only saying moments earlier.
“Don’t leave me here. Don’t leave me here like everyone else has left me.”
Shooting up in his bed, Ransom can’t help but let out a sob. His face is drenched with sweat as he brings a shaking hand to wipe at his mouth, tears trailing down his cheeks before dripping onto the sheets below. Closing his eyes, he exhales heavily, a truth appearing before him that he simply no longer can deny, no matter how much he would like to.
“I didn’t turn out fine,” he whispers into the darkness. “They didn’t give a shit about me, and now I’m paying for it. Georgia can’t pay for it; she can’t. She doesn’t have anything left in her to give.”
As fast as his body can carry him, he’s up out of bed, hurrying to the bathroom where the sudden white lights cause his eyes to sting. Switching on the sink, Ransom wets a cloth, bringing it up to his face and washing himself off before lowering it again to look at himself in the mirror. Catching the blue of his eyes, he’s almost able to see the brown of Georgia’s hovering behind their shared veil of freckles. “This isn’t about you anymore,” he finds himself whispering to his reflection as he smooths back his hair with his fingers. “For once in your life, it can’t be about you.”
Flipping off the lights as he exits the room, Ransom’s sure to be quiet as he heads for the stairs. It would be best to get her into her bed, he thinks to himself, but if she refuses, I could at least get her up to the room. Maybe spread some pillows and blankets out on the floor, make it as nice of a place as it can be.
Once he’s reached the bottom of the stairs, the man begins to make his way across the living room. But after taking only a few steps, he’s stopped by the faint sound of sniffling, his stomach dropping as he freezes on the rug. In the dim glow of the moonlight, Ransom can just barely make out Georgia’s little form curled up on the welcome mat. Feverishly, the child shakes as she sleeps, the helpless whimpers and whines escaping her lips causing the uncertain man to freeze. “Oh kid,” he sighs sadly, unable to shake the guilt from his chest. Has she been crying like this all night?
Glancing at the arm chairs to his left before the fireplace, Ransom spots a blanket, quietly stepping over and collecting it before finishing his walk over to the front door. At first, he just crouches down, but quickly decides that sitting on the floor next to the sobbing child would probably be a better idea for his ankles. Lowering himself to sit cross-legged at the edge of the welcome mat, he inhales shakily, feeling entirely unqualified to face the task before him. I’ve never comforted a child in my life, he groans to himself. Not even Jacob when he was small. Then again, the little shit was always-
A slight swell in Georgia’s cries snaps Ransom out of his rambling thoughts. And as he stares at the little girl before him, trembling violently as tears soak her little stuffed lamp that’s still tucked under her head, a certain sense of what almost feels like calmness washes over the man as he tells himself, fuck it. Just have to do it. At this point, there’s no way I can make things worse than they already are.
Taking another deep breath, Ransom picks up the blanket from his lap, unfolding the fuzzy fabric a few times before reaching it out and wrapping it around the squirming child. The contact causes the little body to jerk, but beyond that there are no signs to suggest she’s nearing consciousness, something that comforts Ransom a little as he wraps the blanket a little further around the girl before pulling her over onto his lap. She fits into his arms almost perfectly, surprising the man as he realizes he’s now cradling his child for the first time.
Tilting her head up a bit as she continues to cry, Ransom begins to speak softly, “Hey, shhhh.” A subtle rocking motion begins in his arms without him even noticing, a small smile forming on his lips as he notices his efforts beginning to work. Though she continues to remain in a visibly deep sleep, Georgia’s tears have started to slow, the terrible shakes racking through her body subtly settling as she’s held.
“There you go, you’re alright. Just needed someone to hold you, hmm?” Ransom continues to murmur, finding it almost comforting to speak to the child even though she’s unable to hear what he’s saying. “I probably would’ve cried if I tried sleeping on the mat too, kid,” he jokes, his hand somehow finding the side of her cheek as he rubs the soft skin with his thumb. “Pretty sure the thing’s made of straw. Definitely not a place for little guys like you to be sleeping.”
Georgia’s breaths heave a few more times in the quiet as she’s cradled, her little hands beginning to make grabbing motions as a quiet whine sounds in her throat. “Oh, oh, here,” Ransom identifies the problem quickly, grabbing her stuffed animal from where it fell on the floor and bringing it up to her shaking fingers. “Here, here he is. He’s right here, you got him.” The girl’s latches on quickly to the object, though Ransom still feels the need to bring the fabric of the toy up closer to her face anyway. Maybe she can smell it, he thinks to himself. Know it’s there.
As the child in his arms continues to settle, Ransom sighs, looking down on her heavy eyelids draped with thick brown lashes. Don’t wanna risk waking her up, he decides. Guess I’m sleeping down here. For a moment, he debates trying to move to the couch, but in the end decides he’s probably best off just staying put. And though the position he’s in is nowhere near comfortable enough for sleeping, somehow he’s able to find rest much sooner than he thought he would. Finally, after what felt like so much walking away from the little girl, he’s able to be content with holding her in his arms at last. “Didn’t leave you,” he whispers as he drifts off to sleep. “Never leaving you again.”
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dadplease · 29 days ago
softie | chapter five: a place to sleep.
← last chapter | series masterlist | next chapter →
summary | ransom drysdale is the last person anyone would suspect to be a doting father. but when a paternity test reveals his relation to four year old georgia pine, the man finds himself turning into quite the softie for the peculiar little girl who’s been in such desperate need of his love and care.
warnings | mature themes related to child abuse/neglect, ptsd/trauma symptoms in a child (developmental discrepancies, de-humanized behavior, detachment, extreme fears). loss(mother) and gain(father) of custody. unknown/secret child trope. soft!ransom, soft!dad!ransom. lots of hurt/comfort.
As the credits of The Little Mermaid begin to roll, Ransom can see Georgia’s eyes growing droopy as she stifles a yawn. At some point during the movie, when the frightening visuals and sounds of the sea witch were causing the poor child to tremble, the quiet man behind her found it in himself to join her where she sat on the floor. He was hesitant to; it wasn’t going to be the most comfortable seat in the house, but something inside him compelled him to do it.
Now as they sit just a few feet apart, his heart softens at the tired little girl; he realizes it’s been a long day for the both of them.
Glancing at his watch, Ransom sees that it’s nearing 8:00 pm. Seems like a reasonable time for bed, he shrugs to himself. “You gettin’ sleepy?” he asks the little one, his voice coming out a little too soft for his own liking.
Georgia gives a hum and a nod in response, her eyes trailing over to the man sitting beside her. An expression of uncertainty forms on her face, something Ransom isn’t too alarmed by. Always a little strange sleeping in a new place, he reminds himself. “Alright. Well, maybe it’s time to put on your pajamas and brush your teeth?” he suggests.
The girl turns herself slightly on the carpet, looking over to where her bag was tossed onto the sofa. “Here,” Ransom says as he rises to his feet, grabbing the bag for the child and bringing it back to her as she sits on the ground. “The stuff you need in here?” Georgia nods. “Okay, you wanna get ready for bed in the room upstairs?.” The little girl’s eyes widen at the offer. Chuckling slightly, Ransom encourages, “C’mon, stand up. I can show it to you.”
Tentatively, Georgia hoists herself onto her feet, her little knees wobbling below her as she struggles to gain her balance. Ransom waits in front of her, trying to find it in himself to scoff at her clumsiness, but for some reason in this moment he can’t; he can only feel pity. “You okay?” he asks, his brow raising in concern.
Georgia’s cheeks turn pink as she nods quickly, mumbling a frightened apology. As her eyes stay locked on the ground, she can’t see the man in front of her as he looks her over with worry this time instead of impatience. “It’s okay,” Ransom tells her, feeling guilty for how certain she is that he’ll be upset with her. Makes sense, though, he reminds himself. You two didn’t get off to the smoothest start.
“Here,” he tries to regain her attention on getting to see her room. “Let’s go see the guestroom, hmm?” Deciding to carry her bag for her, Ransom heads towards the stairs, not surprised at all when Georgia falls right in line behind him silently. “It doesn’t have much of a definitive style; I was figuring maybe you could help me out with that if you decided to stay here for good,” he rambles as he leads the way up the up the stairwell.
Once they reach the landing, Ransom heads for the door on the right, twisting the knob with his free hand and pushing the sturdy wood open. “Here it is,” he says as he hits the lights and takes a few steps in, expecting the little one to follow shortly behind him. “It’s not much, but it should have everything you need,” he adds hopefully as he drops the girl’s bag down onto the carpeted floor.
Turning back to hear Georgia’s response, Ransom’s surprised to see she’s still standing in the doorway, peeking in shyly as if she’s not sure if she’s allowed to enter. “You coming?” he asks, causing the child to jump. The man frowns.
Georgia’s eyes scan the entirety of the room, taking in all the furniture and simple design features. The walls are a soft white, a few simple pictures of beaches forming a square on one of them. Under the art is a short dresser with a floor mirror tucked beside it. On the opposite wall, a queen sized bed sits low to the floor with nightstands on either side. A gentle cascade of string lights falls over the window behind the bed’s head, another window positioned on the third wall to the left. As the little’s wide eyes absorb the simple space, Ransom realizes this might be the first time the child’s ever had a room of her own.
“You can come in,” the man says, keeping his gentle eyes on the girl in the doorway. As he gazes over her hesitant expression, an image flashes in his mind from when he was about her age; standing before him was his mother, trying to get the little boy to do something he had no courage to face. In the vision, the lady crouches down in front of him, her evened height helping a bit to ease his worries.
Taking in a deep breath, Ransom bends his knees, lowering himself to the ground before the wary child in front of him. Georgia’s eyes widen slightly at his actions. But to his surprise, she decides to take a few steps forward, now standing only feet from the man as her bag sits on the floor between them. “What d’you think?” Ransom asks as he looks around the room once more, almost seeking some sort of approval from the little girl.
Georgia’s big doe eyes widen even further as she begins to speak, “’s really pretty,” she says, the swell in her voice validating her words. “Never seen a room like this, sir.”
“Well, it’s all yours, kid,” Ransom tells her with a quick nod, trying not to get hung up on the thoughts of where she must’ve come from, what kind of neglect she had to have endured to be so impressed at a simple bed and dresser. As he glances briefly at the girl’s face, Ransom can see those same bambi eyes from the pictures on his computer earlier, belonging to the poor creature locked in that wretched cellar, clothed in nothing but dirt and blood-
“My PJ’s are in here,” Georgia’s little voice cuts off the man’s morbid train of thought as she crouches down, unzipping the bag and beginning to shuffle through it. Glancing down as she does so, Ransom can see that she’s seriously lacking in possessions of any kind. I’ll have to take her shopping; she needs new clothes, at least. Could probably use some new toys, as well. She seemed to like books… movies, too. Could start an order online and- Shaking his head he cuts himself off. What’s got him so concerned with all this so suddenly? Though he hates to admit it, deep down his biggest urge is to just spoil her with new things. Is that how she’ll get that I like her? Do I like her? New questions begin to swirl through his mind as the child below him pulls out an old white t-shirt with some faded logo on the front and a pair of purple flannel pants.
“These’re all I have,” the shy girl admits sheepishly as she holds the clothes in her hands, gaze fixed on the floor. Ransom nods, feeling bad for embarrassing her even though he’s not sure he could’ve done anything to prevent it.
“That’s okay, we can get you some new stuff tomorrow,” he tells her, not wanting her to question whether or not he’ll be providing for her materialistically. Georgia’s head shoots up at the man’s words, her eyes filled with what almost appears to be alarm.
“N-new? Don’t have any m-money, sir,” the child mumbles warily, causing Ransom’s expression to soften.
Offering her a tiny smile, he asks, “Now, who said anything about money? That’s something for adults to worry about. And I’ve got plenty to spend on you.” Noticing the faint trembling beginning to rise up through the girl’s body, he continues, “What is it? Don’t you want some new things?”
“Don’t have anything to repay you with,” Georgia replies defeatedly, her eyes drooping in worry.
“Repay me? I don’t expect you to repay me,” Ransom brushes off the idea. Growing uncomfortable with what the child’s words could mean, he decides to end the conversation, rising to his feet and causing Georgia to wince. “You get dressed while I step outside,” he tells her, only earning a small nod before he exits through the wooden frame, closing the door behind him.
“Jesus,” the flustered man breathes to himself as soon as he’s by himself. Repay him? What on earth with? What was that look on her face; she acted like I might’ve wanted some flesh off her bone! Running a distressed hand over his face, Ransom tries to calm his nerves. Relax, he tells himself. Clearly she’s come from a terrible situation where basic necessities weren’t provided - or at least, maybe not without an unfair price. It doesn’t have to be that way anymore. It won’t be that way anymore.
After a few more minutes of silently collecting himself, the door in front of him opens back up to reveal little Georgia, all changed into her pajamas. Ransom’s heart sinks as he notices the marks littering the child’s arms and neck, no wonder why she insisted on keeping her coat on for as long as she could. Noticing the pink and blue toothbrush in her hand, the man asks, “You ready to brush your teeth?” The girl nods.
Ransom leads her to the bathroom next door, switching on the light of the olive-green room and stepping back by the toilet to allow the child to access the sink. “Don’t have toothpaste, sir,” Georgia peeps.
“Alright, not a problem,” he says as he swings open one of the cupboards under the vanity, digging around through some supplies until he pulls out a new tube. “This stuff’s not made for kids, but I guess for tonight it’ll have to do. It’s just mint, that okay?” Georgia nods, not surprising Ransom in the least with her inability to be picky. “Here,” he says, holding his hand out. The little girl hands him the toothbrush, allowing him to squirt some paste out onto the head and run it under the tap. “You know how to do it by yourself? I’m not sure what age kids learn these things at.”
“Mhmm,” Georgia hums, “can do it all by myself!” Ransom can’t help but soften at the child as she looks up at him proudly, taking the toothbrush from his hand and beginning to work it against her tiny teeth.
“All by yourself, huh? Wow, that’s pretty great,” he agrees, slightly impressed at how his words are completely void of sarcasm. After a few minutes of scrubbing, Georgia stops, prompting Ransom to grab her a paper cup from the dispenser positioned on the wall. The little girl spits out the paste, offering the cup back to the man. “Here, I’ll rinse this off, too,” he says as he takes her brush as well, running it under the water before placing it on the counter and throwing the cup in the trash.
“Alright, jammies on, teeth brushed, anything else you need to do before bed?” Earning a simple shake of the head, Ransom nods, turning off the light as the two head back to the bedroom. Once inside, Georgia hurries over to her bag, pulling out a small quilt that looks to be barely big enough to cover the child’s body, along with a stuffed lamb, the animal’s fur visible well worn and loved. “All set?” Ransom asks, earning a small nod. “Okay, kid. Hop into bed,” he instructs. I wonder if she wants a bedtime story, he thinks to himself.
At the man’s word, Georgia does something that catches him completely off guard. Quickly, without making a sound, the little thing scurries to the corner of the room, laying herself down on her side before draping her quilt over herself. Tucking her lamb under her head, she stills, looking back over at Ransom silently.
Ransom freezes. “Georgia?” he asks, earning a flinch from the girl as her eyes grow wide, her bottom lip beginning to tremble.
Across the room, her soft voice hums, “Hmm?”
Sucking in a deep breath, the heartbroken man asks, “What are you doing?”
Georgia can’t help it as a whimper rises in her throat, her words coming out with a wary tremble. “Going to bed.”
Swallowing dryly, Ransom’s brain buzzes, not sure if he should be more worried or angry. “On the floor? In the corner?” The little girl nods, an almost pleading look plastered on her face. “We- I- that’s not where you sleep. Get up,” he instructs. The imploring look on her face only worsens at Ransom’s words, but Georgia does what he says, rising to her feet shakily as she clutches her blanket in one hand, lamb in the other. Tears well up in her eyes as she fights back sobs. Ransom’s far too stunned to say much of anything useful.
“P-please,” the child’s voice quivers, her fear of begging evident in her eyes.
“You’re not sleeping on the floor,” the man tells her firmly.
“Please, s-sir,” she tries again.
“Georgia, I said no,” Ransom insists. Chest heaving, Georgia submits to his orders. Head hanging low, the little girl nods, her tears falling freely down her cheeks before dripping onto the carpet below. “Well?” he asks, unable to keep his venomous anger from seeping into his tone. A part of him wishes he could apologize, tell her it’s not her that he’s upset with, but he can’t seem to find the words as the small girl trembles before him, jumping at his command.
Not wanting to anger Ransom any further, Georgia keeps her mouth shut as she makes her next move. To the man’s complete surprise, she turns and walks right past him, straight out the bedroom door. “Georgia,” Ransom says, his voice growing dangerously low as he follows her out.
The child remains silent as she descends the stairs; Ransom’s too alarmed to say anything other than her name. Georgia trails through the living space as the livid man follows shortly behind her, a million words caught in his throat as he tries to see where she could possibly be going. Turning, Georgia reaches the tall set of sliding glass doors at the entryway of the home. Standing on her tiptoes to switch the locks, she slides the door open, stepping out into the freezing Massachusetts air and turning back to face Ransom.
“Georgia,” Ransom breathes, tears building in his eyes as he watches the girl shake violently from the cold. “What are you doing?” he asks for the second time of the night.
“G-going to bed,” Georgia chokes through sobs, tears and spit covering her face as she shivers uncontrollably. “N-not allowed to sleep on the f-floor. Have to sleep o-outside.”
Squeezing his eyes shut, Ransom does his best to not fall apart at the seams. So many feelings are rushing through him in this moment; it’s hard to focus on anything other than the pounding of his heart in his ears and the terrible ache in his chest. “Georgia,” he states, unable to make his voice as gentle as he knows he should. “Get in here. Now.”
Fumbling for words, the little girl obeys, stepping back inside as Ransom opens his reddened eyes, slamming the door shut and locking it behind her. Turning to face the child, he uses all his strength to hold in his overflowing emotions. Tears slip down from the corners of his eyes as he says her name again. “Georgia.” It’s all he can manage to say.
“S-sleep here? Inside? Please,” the crying girl begs as she lowers herself down onto the scratchy welcome mat and covers herself up with her blanket, easing her head down onto her lamb before looking back up at the man above her.
Unable to fight the child any further on the matter, Ransom surrenders. “Fine,” he says as he turns and leaves the little girl there to cry herself to sleep on the mat, switching off all the lights as he heads for the stairs.
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dadplease · 29 days ago
softie | chapter four: discoveries.
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summary | ransom drysdale is the last person anyone would suspect to be a doting father. but when a paternity test reveals his relation to four year old georgia pine, the man finds himself turning into quite the softie for the peculiar little girl who’s been in such desperate need of his love and care.
warnings | mature themes related to child abuse/neglect, ptsd/trauma symptoms in a child (developmental discrepancies, de-humanized behavior, detachment, extreme fears). loss(mother) and gain(father) of custody. unknown/secret child trope. soft!ransom, soft!dad!ransom. lots of hurt/comfort.
By the time Ransom’s finished his meal, the quiet sounds of the child eating below him on the floor have ceased. Glancing subtly down at her to avoid catching her gaze, he confirms his suspicion; the girl’s food is gone. Satisfaction and relief wash over the man as he eyes her empty plate, trying to ignore the way she’s still trembling as she sits in the silence. Ransom clears his throat, causing Georgia to jump. He sighs. She gonna do that every time?
“All done?” he questions, earning a little nod from the child as she looks up at him with wary eyes. “How was it?”
Bottom lip trembling, Georgia swallows hard as she prepares to speak, appearing as if she’s struggling to choose her words carefully enough. “G-good. Thank you, sir.”
“You don’t have to call me that,” Ransom tells her as he pushes himself out from the table, rising to his feet and collecting his plate. The little girl peers up at him with widened eyes, clearly not knowing how to respond. “Makes me feel old. I mean, do what you want, but just know it’s not necessary.” As he leans down to pick up Georgia’s plate off the floor, the tiny thing flinches.
“Sorry,” she mumbles lamely. “Won’t if- sorry.”
Rolling his eyes slightly at the peculiar girl, Ransom ignores her apology, turning his back on her as he carries the dishware to the sink. Georgia remains in her place, watching the man as he rinses the plates. He sneaks a glance over at her, causing her to wince once more. Jumpy as hell, he thinks to himself. That’s gonna get old.
Checking the time, Ransom realizes he’s not sure what to do next. “Well,” he thinks aloud, “it’s probably not your bedtime yet. What d’you usually do after dinner?” Georgia stares wordlessly at him, earning a huff of impatience. Placing the dishes in the rack to dry, he wipes off his hands with a towel, looking out across the length of the counter until his eyes land on what he’s searching for.
“Maybe blondie left us a schedule,” he hopes as he grabs the sheet of notes from the child’s social worker. Scanning through the various blurbs, Ransom reads, “Let’s see… dinner, and then… ah. It says-” At the sight of the word “bath”, he stops dead in his tracks. Not this soon, he decides immediately, there’s no way in hell she’d let me anywhere near her without clothes on. “Right, looks like we’ve got some free time,” he recovers smoothly, “got anything you wanna do?”
Coming as no surprise to the brown-haired man, the little girl can manage nothing more than a perplexed look for a response. Exhaling loudly as he drops the paper back down onto the granite countertop, Ransom suggests, “Wanna see if there are any movies playing?” Georgia furrows her eyebrows at him, almost making the grump smile at her naivety. “Oh, you’ve never seen one? You’ll love ‘em, I’m sure,” Ransom promises as he makes his way to the archway leading back out to the living room. Taking this as her cue to follow, Georgia rises shakily to her feet, hurrying to catch up with him.
“Alright,” Ransom hums as he grabs the remove from the coffee table, hitting the power button to rouse the machine to life. As soon as the screen lights up, Georgia’s eyes grow as wide as saucers, jumping harshly when sounds begin to play through the speakers. The current channel plays an infomercial. “Let’s see if we can find something you might be a little more interested in,” Ransom says as he begins flipping through channels, stopping when he sees the Disney Channel logo pop up in the bottom corner of the picture. “This should do,” he nods, “you wanna-”
As he turns to look back at the child who’s still standing near the entrance to the kitchen, he’s caught off guard to see her so entranced with the moving images and music coming from the screen. A faint feeling of fondness rises up in his chest as he admires the innocence of her wide doe eyes, her brow raised in curiosity instead of fear, for once. Must not’ve had a TV at the home, Ransom guesses to himself. “Pretty cool, huh?” the man says with a soft grin. Eyes still glued to the glowing screen, Georgia seems too stunned to say anything.
“You can come sit on the couch if you want,” Ransom offers, gesturing to the cream colored sectional. “Feel free to settle wherever. I’m gonna grab some stuff to work on. You good here for a moment?” Earning a small nod from the girl as she still keeps her gaze locked on the television, Ransom chuckles lightly, leaving her to continue to marveling at the technology as he makes his way to the staircase.
What kind of kid’s never seen a TV before? Ransom asks himself dumbfoundedly as he ascends the wooden steps. From the landing, he approaches his bedroom door, twisting the knob open and slipping inside. Whatever, maybe should’ve kept it that way, he continues thinking as he grabs his computer off of his desk, that stuff’ll rot her brain.
Exiting his room and closing the door behind him, Ransom hurries back downstairs with his computer in hand, not wanting to leave the girl alone for too long. As he reaches the bottom of the stairs, he finds Georgia sitting cross-legged on the carpet in front of the TV, still staring up almost foolishly as commercials continue to run. “A show will probably start playing soon,” Ransom comments as he takes his usual seat in the padded corner of the sofa. “If it doesn’t we can try another channel.” Georgia stays quiet as she watches the children running and laughing on the screen, causing the man to smile. If it keeps her out of my hair, I can’t complain, he tells himself.
Pulling up his work browser, Ransom messes around for a little while with various tabs and documents before ultimately deciding he doesn’t have much motivation to work on anything too seriously. Closing out of the secure session, he finds himself staring at his desktop, eyes wandering lazily over the icons littering the page until they settle on a simple beige folder with two words printed neatly underneath: Georgia Pine.
Guess it wouldn’t hurt to take a look through the stuff, Ransom tells himself as he clicks the link apprehensively. Inside he finds a list of documents and files all sent to him by the little girl’s social worker, links he’s had access to for quite some time but never ended up getting around to viewing. Each time he pushed off looking at the folder, he tried to tell himself it was just because he was busy, but he wasn’t even fooling himself with that nonsense; the truth is, this whole time he’s just been too afraid.
Sighing as he notices that none of the files are labeled, Ransom decides to start at the top and work his way down. The first several items appear to be JPEG’s by the icon sitting to their left. Taking a deep breath, he clicks on the first one, triggering an image to fill his screen.
The picture makes Ransom’s blood run cold. It appears to have been taken in some sort of cellar, the walls and floor of the place a chilling gray concrete with dirt protruding from the cracks. The image is zoomed in on a little figure curled up in the corner, a leg sticking out from the heap of bone-covered skin with a thick shackle chaining the thing to a pipe running up the wall. The mess of wavy brown hair is the only thing that identifies the creature as Georgia.
Swallowing hard, Ransom hits the arrow key on his computer, trying to rid himself of the terrible picture only to move onto the next. This second image is taken at closer proximity to the little girl; her head is now lifted slightly and her wide doe eyes are staring feverishly into the lens of the camera, full of the fear of a wild thing. Bruises blanket across her skin as she’s photographed naked, her injuries ranging in color from black to red, to purple to green. Blood has dried under her nose and dribbling down from her chin. Tears are pooling in her darkened eyes.
“Jesus christ,” Ransom can’t help from cursing as he stares at the child, the terrified look heartbreakingly similar to the one he’s witnessed firsthand in just the short few hours he’s known the kid. Hitting the arrow key again, he’s met with a third image, this one the clearest of all. The camera appears to be only feet from the little girl as she now cowers away from it, arms held up to shield her from whoever’s found her. Blood has pooled on the ground beneath her dirtied feet, nasty wounds and bruising covering almost every inch of her filthy skin.
Clicking forward again, Ransom’s relieved to find a newspaper article in the next image instead of an evidential photograph, though his heart quickly drops into the pit of his stomach as he reads the headline. “Little Girl Found Beaten and Starved in Caretakers’ House.”
Tapping to the next file, he finds another. “Four-Year-Old Brutalized by Mother and Step-Father in Quiet Boston Neighborhood.”
Hitting the key again, Ransom swallows down a lump in his throat as his ears begin to ring. “Preschooler Kept in Cellar for Years; Treated like an Animal by Sadistic Parents.” Tears gloss over the man’s eyes as his gaze wanders over the blocks of text, catching little bits and pieces of the story as his heart pounds heavily throughout his body. “…was found chained naked to a pipe…” “…hadn’t left the cellar in what appeared to be months…” “…cried and begged when police tried to help…” “…sustained various critical injuries…” “…both parents being charged with various counts of neglect, endangerment, physical abuse, and sexual-”
A quiet gasp breaks through Ransom’s frantic reading, causing the man to instinctively slam his computer shut, his head shooting up to see where the sound came from. His entire body immediately softens as he sees Georgia still sitting on the ground before the television, her mouth now agape as she stares up at the screen that’s playing a scene from The Little Mermaid. Taking a moment to let his body settle, Ransom can’t help gaze lovingly through his tears at the small child as she becomes so encaptivated by Ariel’s beautiful voice and appearance. And as the mermaid on the screen sings her infamous melody, a small voice rises up inside of the cold-hearted man, its tone only familiar from a few passing thoughts he’s been collecting over his short time with Georgia.
It could be different, he thinks to himself. Things could be different, for her. Different than what she came from. Different than how it was for me.
As expected, as soon as these thoughts appear they’re flooded by Ransom’s usual bitter monologue. That’s not who I am, though, he reasons with himself. That’s not what I was raised to be, not who Ma and Pa created. Glancing back at the little girl once more as she watches Ariel adoringly, he tries to reach some sort of compromise. Maybe I’ve been a little too harsh with her, but I’m not turning soft. I can do this without compromising who I am. Ma and Pa did me well, and I’ll do the same for her.
And as he continues to watch the child’s eyes twinkle with wonder, he shuts out the voice inside of him asking if he truly did turn out alright after all.
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dadplease · 29 days ago
softie | chapter three: like a dog.
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summary | ransom drysdale is the last person anyone would suspect to be a doting father. but when a paternity test reveals his relation to four year old georgia pine, the man finds himself turning into quite the softie for the peculiar little girl who’s been in such desperate need of his love and care.
warnings | mature themes related to child abuse/neglect, ptsd/trauma symptoms in a child (developmental discrepancies, de-humanized behavior, detachment, extreme fears). loss(mother) and gain(father) of custody. unknown/secret child trope. soft!ransom, soft!dad!ransom. lots of hurt/comfort.
Ransom’s eyes burn as he stares down into the metal pot bubbling on the stove. At the surface of the thick broth, he can barely make out the edges of his reflection, the harsh crease in his brow causing an image to flash before his eyes of a similarly disgruntled face from sometime long ago. His body stiffens, a strange wave of unwanted nostalgia washing over the man as he remembers himself back in his childhood, huddled in a corner while confronted with such a terrible face. He pictures himself trapped there, trembling. And somehow as the minutes pass, the image slowly morphs into the way little Georgia looked while sitting on the floor in the living room, clutching her book to her chest as she cowered below the now grown man.
I’m not fooling anyone, not even myself, he thinks as he stirs the contents of the pot around, disrupting his watery reflection. Of course I’m turning into the people who raised me; I’ve got Ma’s disinterest and Pa’s temper in my blood.
The oven’s timer goes off with a high-pitched beep, causing the brown-haired man to turn away from the stove. Grabbing an oven mitt, he switches off the heat, opening the door carefully and pulling the pan out from the glowing rack. It’s for the best, he tells himself as he sets the hot dish down onto a towel, after all, I turned out just fine. It’ll make her tougher; clearly it’s what she needs.
“Food’s ready,” Ransom announces, loud enough to be heard from the adjacent room where the child still remains. Pulling out a set of plates and silverware from the cabinetry, he pauses, expecting the little girl to find her way into the kitchen by herself. After several moments of her absence, Ransom sighs heavily, switching off the stove and removing his mitt before making his way back to the other room.
“Hey,” the man calls harshly as he spots the girl still sitting on the floor where he left her. Jumping at his voice, Georgia looks up from Goodnight Moon that’s now opened up on her lap, her eyes growing wide with anxiety. “Did you not hear me? I said the food’s done,” Ransom grumbles impatiently.
“Food?” Georgia asks innocently, tilting her head as the man in front of her places his hands on his hips.
“Yeah, what- they didn’t feed you at the home?” Ransom asks sarcastically, a hint of dread appearing in his chest as he begins to wonder if his question might actually have some validity based on the way the child simply continues to look up at him cluelessly. “Come on, we’ll eat in the kitchen,” he beckons, deciding he doesn’t care enough to unpack whatever kind of backstory might be behind the girl’s strange behavior.
Closing the book carefully, Georgia returns it to the grocery bag in front of her, rising slowly to her feet once it’s tucked away and padding nervously over to Ransom. “You wanna take off your coat yet?” he asks, still not understanding why she would prefer to keep it on for so long when the house is plenty warm on its own. Earning only a small frown in response, he sighs, mumbling a “whatever” as he leads the way into the kitchen.
“My cooking’s not the greatest, but I did my best,” Ransom admits as he stands at the counter, beginning to dish himself up some of the chicken and vegetables. Once he’s satisfied, he turns to the child peering up on her tip-toes at the food, a look of stark confusion now twister onto her face. “What?” he asks, “I told you I’m no chef.”
Gulping, the little girl glances up at the man, a tremble present in her soft voice as she observes, “Two plates.”
“Great, you can count,” he jokes flatly, though the little bit of humor in his expression quickly begins to fade as he realizes what the child’s words mean. “What about it?” he adds, trying to keep his growing concern from flooding his voice. “You want a bowl instead?”
Looking back over the food with watering eyes, Georgia stiffens, the remains of a swallowed-down sob cracking through her words as she tells him, “C-can’t eat that.”
“Why not?” Ransom asks irritably. “I don’t remember everything blondie said, but I’m pretty sure she didn’t mention any allergies.” Biting her bottom lip worriedly, Georgia sniffles, her lack of explanation only causing the man’s annoyance to grow. “Fine,” he huffs, not wanting to waste any more energy on the matter. If she doesn’t want it, that just means there’ll be more leftovers for later, he tells himself. “What can you eat?” he tries, assuming the child might prefer a peanut butter sandwich or something less sophisticated.
Ransom freezes, a hollowness beginning to ring in his ears as he looks down at the quiet girl. “Scraps?” he repeats. Georgia nods.
“Jus’ get the scraps,” the small child mumbles shyly, her cheeks turning pink as Ransom’s eyes remain glued to her. “O-or not,” she adds quickly, as if she’s frightened he might find her words too demanding. “Don’t have to give ‘em to me, sir.”
Sir. The title sits uncomfortably in the thin air as Ransom runs a hand back through his hair, trying to make sense of the little girl’s words. Though he was given plenty of warning by Child Services about the degree of Georgia’s maltreatment under her mother’s care, it still manages to hit the man differently when he witnesses her unusual behavior first-hand. A strange sense of longing washes over Ransom as he looks down on the little brown-haired girl; suddenly, he feels urged to crouch down beside her and talk to her softly, condemn the actions of her abusers and encourage her to eat what he’s made. These impulses are completely out of character for the bitter man, and truthfully, it scares the shit out of him. She wants scraps, so what, he tries to brush it off internally. Probably wouldn’t get very far fighting her on it, anyway.
Grabbing a fork and a knife from the silverware set on the counter, Ransom takes a piece of chicken from the pan, placing it on the second plate. Next, he scoops over some vegetables. Once the portion looks appropriate, he takes a utensil in each hand, gradually beginning to shred up the food into a steaming pile. Georgia watches with wide eyes at his side, flinching when he drops the fork and knife onto the plate.
“There you go,” he presents coldly as he holds the dish out for her to take. “Scraps.” Georgia accepts the plate with two shaking hands, appearing too startled by the man’s actions to form words. “Come on, before it gets cold,” Ransom mutters as he picks up his own meal, leading the child over to the table.
Pulling out a chair for himself and settling down, he almost doesn’t notice what the little girl is doing. (That is, until he hears the heavy ceramic being placed gingerly onto the ground.) Peering down over the side of the table, Ransom’s heart drops slightly in his chest to find the child sitting on the floor, gazing warily up at him. Already anticipating a scolding from the look Ransom’s giving her, a soft whimper rises in Georgia’s throat. The man swallows dryly, trying to keep his voice steady. “Georgia.” She flinches.
For some time, Ransom’s unable to say anything more, completely entangled in a mess of emotions ranging all the way from petty annoyance to pure heartbreak. Jesus, look at her, he sighs to himself. Those eyes, so big and frightened; what on earth did they do to her?
“Georgia,” the man says again, hating the way she looks like she’s preparing to be burnt at the stake. “What are you doing?” The simply asked question seems to take the girl by surprise.
“Eat scraps,” the poor girl mumbles, nodding at her plate.
Ransom opens his mouth to suggest she come sit next to him, but something within him stops the words before they come tumbling out. His reflection from earlier flashes in his mind as he’s reminded of who he is, who he’s meant to be: that cold, distant man who’ll be better for the child in the end. For her own good, he tells himself. If she wants to act like a dog, why should it be my job to get in her way?
“Fine,” he grunts, watching as the little girl withers at his tone. And as she begins picking at her food with her tiny hands, Ransom tries to ignore the way her fear of him makes his heart ache.
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dadplease · 29 days ago
softie | chapter two: crybaby.
← last chapter | series masterlist | next chapter →
summary | ransom drysdale is the last person anyone would suspect to be a doting father. but when a paternity test reveals his relation to four year old georgia pine, the man finds himself turning into quite the softie for the peculiar little girl who’s been in such desperate need of his love and care.
warnings | mature themes related to child abuse/neglect, ptsd/trauma symptoms in a child (developmental discrepancies, de-humanized behavior, detachment, extreme fears). loss(mother) and gain(father) of custody. unknown/secret child trope. soft!ransom, soft!dad!ransom. lots of hurt/comfort.
“You can take off your coat, you know,” Ransom suggests casually as he stands before the small girl in his living room, “the house tends to run warm.” Frowning slightly, little Georgia grabs at the hem of the tattered garment, clearly not wanting to part with it yet. “Alright,” the tall man dismisses, “have it your way. But don’t come crying to me when you begin to overheat.”
Glancing around the room for a few moments, Ransom realizes that he isn’t quite sure what to do with a child. He knows it’s nearing 5:00 pm and that dinner is waiting to be made in the fridge, but what is he supposed to do with the little girl standing before him who’s looking around nervously like a lost puppy? Give her a bone, Ransom thinks to himself. “Hey, I got some stuff for you. Well no, I didn’t get it for you, but that’s not the point,” he mumbles as he turns to head into the kitchen. “Wait here.”
He finds the brown paper grocery bag set on the counter where he left it, right next to the instruction sheet he hasn’t bothered to look at yet from the child’s social worker. Picking it up by its handles, Ransom peeks down into the bag, relieved to find a variety of toys and books that’ll hopefully provide some entertainment for the young girl. Never thought I’d say this, but- thank god for Meg, the man thinks as he shakes his head.
When she found out about her cousin’s child through her mom, the college girl had immediately called Ransom. “You have to let me come meet her,” Meg had enthused. “There’s no way you have even the slightest clue of how to take care of a four-year-old, but I used to nanny, so I-”
“Her visitation agreement prohibits outside guests,” Ransom had quickly shut his blabbering relative down. “You’ll have to wait until I gain full custody, if that even happens.”
Huffing in disappointment, Meg had agreed. “Fine, but let me bring some gifts over for her. She’ll need toys, books, art supplies-”
“If I say yes, will you shut up?” Ransom had groaned. And so it was settled, and within 24 hours the grocery bag full of goodies had arrived.
“These are from my cousin,” the man explains as he walks back out into the living room, tossing the bag a few inches to land at Georgia’s feet. The small child winces as she looks down at it, looking uncertain of what to do with the offering. “Go ahead, take a look,” Ransom encourages as he rests himself down on the edge of the sofa just a few feet away from the girl.
Sheepishly, Georgia finds her way to her knees, her head barely rising above the bag to allow her to peer down inside. At the sight of its contents, her eyes widen noticeably, but not out of fear like usual; this time, the child’s face is filled with wonder. A subtle sense of calm settles over Ransom as he watches the little girl, becoming washed over by a feeling he struggles at first to identify. Warmth? Affection…? Gross, he thinks to himself, though his resistance to the emotion is weak. Gazing at the child’s wide bambi eyes, for the first time since meeting her, Ransom allows himself to acknowledge: there’s a certain adorableness to her that’s difficult to ignore. Her cheeks are rosy, full and soft as they should be. Patches of freckles are scattered messily across her button nose. Her eyes themselves are strong, prominent, full eyelashes batting down delicately each time she blinks.
“What d’you see in there?” Ransom asks, his voice coming out uncharacteristically soft.
Biting her lip, Georgia replies, “Toys. Books.” The little girl’s voice swells on the second word.
“You like books, huh?” Ransom gathers, unable to keep the grin off his face. “Me too, kid. I got plenty of books around the house, but you probably wouldn’t like any of ‘em, so it’s a good thing she got you some new ones.” Georgia’s eyes trail over to him at his words, plenty of books. “In fact, one of the walls in my room upstairs is just a giant bookcase. I’ll have to show you later,” he says before he can even process what he’s committing to. “I-I mean, maybe. If you want to- if we have time,” he catches himself.
The little girl nods, her eyes returning down to the bag. “Don’t be shy, take them out,” Ransom presses, not sure at this point if her extreme wariness of everything is more annoying or concerning. Shakily, Georgia obeys, reaching a tiny hand down and pulling out a picture book. “Oh- Goodnight Moon? Jesus, haven’t read that one since I was a kid,” Ransom shakes his head nostalgically.
“G-Goodnight Noon,” Georgia repeats quietly to herself, her mispronunciation of the title causing the man in front of her to chuckle as he indulges slightly in his growing fondness for the girl.
“Moon,” he corrects. “See it through the window on the cov-?” His voice cuts out as his stomach drops. Angrily, he asks himself, what the hell am I doing, rambling on with her about a stupid picture book? “Never mind,” he shuts down quickly, the abrupt return of his cold demeanor causing Georgia’s body to stiffen. “I’m gonna go start on dinner.” As Ransom rises to his feet, the child goes to do the same, causing him to snap. “No, you stay here.”
Georgia flinches at his words, immediately dropping down to her bottom with a slight bang that causes the vase of flowers on the glass coffee table to her left to rattle. Furrowing his brow slightly in what feels like forced annoyance, Ransom decides to add, “For fuck’s sake, would you be careful?”
Georgia’s head falls in fear and humiliation, her tiny hands shaking terribly as she clasps her picture book close to her chest. “Oh, here we go,” Ransom groans as he sees the tears beginning to trail down her cheeks, trying to suppress the guilt bubbling up in his stomach. “Come on, kid, would you cut it out already? Quit being such a crybaby.” As soon as his words leave his mouth, the frightened girl’s hands shoot up to rub away her tears; Goodnight Moon drops uselessly into her lap. She’s gonna irritate her eyes, Ransom thinks to himself, followed quickly by, good. Maybe she’ll learn her lesson.
As he turns leave for the other room, he notices a lump that’s formed in his throat, accompanied by a strange urge to say more to the child. What exactly, he’s not sure, just anything to console her or ease her fears. “Christ,” he whispers as he runs a hand over his face, “I’m losing my goddamn mind.” Unable to let himself show any more weakness, he disappears into the kitchen, leaving the girl to cry alone.
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dadplease · 29 days ago
softie | chapter one: a little house tour.
← last chapter | series masterlist | next chapter →
summary | ransom drysdale is the last person anyone would suspect to be a doting father. but when a paternity test reveals his relation to four year old georgia pine, the man finds himself turning into quite the softie for the peculiar little girl who’s been in such desperate need of his love and care.
warnings | mature themes related to child abuse/neglect, ptsd/trauma symptoms in a child (developmental discrepancies, de-humanized behavior, detachment, extreme fears). loss(mother) and gain(father) of custody. unknown/secret child trope. soft!ransom, soft!dad!ransom. lots of hurt/comfort.
“Alrighty you two,” Julie says as she stands before the man and the child in the sliding glass doorway to the home. “Anything else we need to settle before I take off? I believe we covered everything important…” the woman trails off in thought.
“We’re good, thanks,” Ransom states simply, wanting more than anything to just get the annoying young lady out of their hair. Georgia stands silently with the two adults, her big brown eyes fixated on the reddish bricks covering the ground.
“You have the sheet I sent you covering all the basics, right? Meals, bedtime, things she likes to-”
“Printed out and waiting for us on the kitchen counter,” Ransom assures her before she can even finish her sentence. Huffing in what appears to be slight frustration at Ransom’s shortness, Julie nods, sucking in a deep breath before crouching down before the small child beside him.
“Georgia, sweetheart?” the blonde woman calls, causing the little brunette to glance up at her gingerly. With a soft smile, Julie continues, “Everything’s settled now, lovie, so I’m gonna get going back to the center. You’ve got all of your things, and Ransom here’s got a whole packet of info to help him out for these first few days; you two should be just fine.”
Shifting on his feet impatiently, Ransom watches as the tiny thing nods, trying to ignore the tears that have once again built up in her eyes. Kids, he thinks to himself with a slight shake of the head. Little shits cry about everything.
“You’re gonna be alright, sweetie,” Julie soothes with a hint of sadness appearing in her kind eyes, appearing to sense the little one’s apprehension, “and if you need anything, you just ask Ransom for the phone and call the number on my card. You still have it tucked in your book?” Georgia nods again, causing the social worker’s smile to widen. “Good. Well then,” she clears her throat, rising back up to her feet. “I hope you two have a wonderful time together!”
“Thanks,” Ransom nods flatly, earning a small wave from the lady before she turns and heads back down the walkway. Glancing down at the child below him, he takes in a long breath. Georgia’s eyes have fallen back to the ground, her little feet kicking slightly at the gap in the bricks with her scuffed ballet flats. What a mess, Ransom judges silently as he takes a moment to soak in the child’s appearance. Her olive green coat is at least a few sizes too big for her, the fabric torn in several places over her tiny frame. Her boney legs are covered by a pair of gray leggings, also looking to be littered with holes. Her white shoes are muddied and all but coming apart, the seams fraying at every edge. Gonna need some new clothes. Maybe a haircut, too, he notes, eyeing the little girl’s mess of brown waves.
“Well,” Ransom speaks awkwardly, trying not to roll his eyes when Georgia jumps at the sudden booming of his voice. “Should be fine to leave the car seat out here. Better get inside before we freeze,” he continues, pivoting around and sliding the door open behind them. Turning to follow the intimidating man’s gaze, Georgia peers through the tall glass pane, her eyes widening slightly at the interior of the house. “I know, probably nothing like you’re used to,” Ransom scoffs, imagining what the children’s home must’ve been like that the little girl spent the past month or so in. “Come on,” he insists as he leans down momentarily to grab the handle of the navy blue duffle bag at the child’s feet, “can’t stand out here all day.”
Gulping, Georgia looks up at him, causing the man to sigh. “Fine. Follow me then,” he grumbles, leading the way into the house. Seeming satisfied with not having to go first, the small girl follows, her head turning this way and that as she takes in the incredible home. “Guess I can give you a little house tour,” Ransom shrugs as he slides off his shoes carelessly, tossing the duffle bag over onto the cream-colored couch. Crouching down silently, Georgia unbuckles her own shoes, removing them sheepishly and placing them on the doormat before standing up again. Her eyes continue to wander as Ransom watches her, not sure if he should say more or just let her keep looking.
“Um, this is the living room,” he states, not sure what else to mention about the space. “Over there’s the dining room, though it never gets used,” he admits as he points to the extension of the house to his right. The little girl’s eyes follow his gesture, remaining quiet. “If you step in further, I can show you more,” the man tells her, smirking slightly as she immediately follows his instruction, her cheeks flushing a nervous pink. “Through there’s the kitchen,” he motions to his left as he begins making his way further into the secondary living space, “and over here are the stairs.”
Georgia’s socked feet pad softly against the floor as she follows him, her eyes trailing from the partially concealed kitchen over to the set of chairs in front of the fireplace. As soon as she catches sight of the tall brick fixture, her eyes swell, a terrible tremble rising up through her small body as she lets out a squeak.
Alarmed by the sound, Ransom’s eyes fall back on the child, his brow slanting in confusion and slight annoyance as he asks, “What is it?” Georgia’s bottom lip quivers as her gaze remains glued to the mantle, the tears welling in her eyes confusing the grumpy man even further. “Come on kid, spit it out,” Ransom snaps, the tone of his voice making her jump.
She peers up at him for a moment, the terrified expression on her face as she stares at him stirring unfamiliar emotions in his stomach before her eyes dart back over to the front door. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Ransom warns, his words coming out darker than even he intended. “Look, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong,” he presses. The little girl’s eyes fall to the floor in front of her as tears roll down her cheeks. “Georgia,” the man sighs impatiently.
Choking on her syllables as she begins to speak for the first time since meeting Ransom, the child begins to stammer in a pitiful voice, “P-p-poker… h-hot… burn m-me?”
“What? Burn you? No,” he replies incredulously, “Why the hell would I do that?” As he continues to watch the small girl panic quietly, an uncomfortable sense of guilt begins buzzing in Ransom’s throat. Probably should’ve read the report, he thinks to himself, could’ve covered it up with a sheet or something if I’d known it was gonna be an issue-
Wait. Would he have, though? Ransom Drysdale knows himself better than anyone; he knows he isn’t someone to go out of his way to make others comfortable. So why am I thinking that way, he asks himself. Sighing, he shakes his head. Whatever, he concludes, she’ll get over it.
“Georgia. I’m not gonna burn you with the fire iron,” Ransom deadpans, “so quit crying. I never light the thing, anyway. It’s just for decoration.” At his command, the little girl attempts to dry her eyes, sniffling weakly. Letting out an exasperated sigh, Ransom continues, “Come on, enough with it. You just got here; you can’t seriously be having a meltdown already.” Nodding shamefully, Georgia rubs the rest of her tears away, her eyes now puffy and red.
The brown-haired man runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head again in irritation. “Here, I’ll show you the upstairs,” Ransom decides, dismissing the fireplace situation entirely and making his way over to the beginning of the steps. Glancing back, he notices the child hasn’t moved an inch from her spot on the carpet. “You coming or what?” he asks.
Wincing at the sharpness of his voice, Georgia quickly falls in line behind him. “Jesus,” Ransom curses under his breath as he starts up the stairs, unable to believe how terribly things have managed to go in just the short period of time since the girl arrived. “Alright,” he says as they reach the landing. “Not much to see up here. This room’s mine,” he states as he motions to the first door on the left. “Washroom,” he points to the door in the middle, “and the guest room,” he concludes with the last. “Any questions?”
Keeping her gaze down, Georgia shakes her head, the sight of her standing still somewhat nervously before him causing yet another unfamiliar emotion to surface within Ransom: pity. “I-I’ll show you the guest room later,” he says quickly, doing his best to shake off the unwanted feeling. “Let’s go back downstairs for now. It’s almost dinnertime.”
Looking up slightly at the man’s words, Georgia’s eyes droop as she blinks through her heavy lashes. Ransom nods his head toward the stairs, expecting the child to do as he’s instructed. Instead, though, she hesitates, causing him to sigh. “What, need me to go first?” he all but groans. Biting her lower lip to keep it from trembling, Georgia nods. Letting out a breathy exhale, the vexed man rolls his eyes. “Fine,” he mutters as he steps back to the stairs, having to bite his tongue to keep quiet when the little girl flinches at his momentary closeness.
“What the hell have I gotten myself into?” he mumbles as they make their way back down into the living room, beginning to scold himself when he realizes that the kid might’ve heard. But then he halts, reminding himself, no, I don’t care. So what if she heard? It would be best if she did; maybe then she’d pull herself together.
And as they both reach the bottom of the staircase, Ransom does his best to convince himself he believes it.
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dadplease · 29 days ago
softie | prologue.
series masterlist | next part →
summary | ransom drysdale is the last person anyone would suspect to be a doting father. but when a paternity test reveals his relation to four year old georgia pine, the man finds himself turning into quite the softie for the peculiar little girl who’s been in such desperate need of his love and care.
warnings | mature themes related to child abuse/neglect, ptsd/trauma symptoms in a child (developmental discrepancies, de-humanized behavior, detachment, extreme fears). loss(mother) and gain(father) of custody. unknown/secret child trope. soft!ransom, soft!dad!ransom. lots of hurt/comfort.
Thump thump thump. Georgia’s little legs bounce softly against the padded plastic of her car seat as she sits in the back of her social worker’s crossover, gazing out the window as the beautiful Massachusetts countryside flies by. “You excited, honey?” the kind young lady, known to Georgia and all her clients as ‘Ms. Julie’ asks.
The little girl gives no response, not surprising the young woman in the least. “I’m sure he’s a very nice man, sweetheart. He sounded like it when I talked with him on the phone earlier,” Julie continues, figuring the reassuring words can’t do any harm at this point.
Deep down, though, the woman is full of concern. Georgia Pine’s been the most serious victim of child abuse and neglect the state has seen in years, and her new guardian, Mr. Hugh Drysdale, hasn’t exactly been the ideal candidate for taking over her case. Julie was shocked to learn that he had any interest in gaining custody of the child. After all, he had no idea the small girl even existed until she was removed from her mother and step-father’s care, following the most disturbing and heartbreaking rescue the young social worker has ever witnessed. And it wasn’t just her; many of the intervention team ended up testifying that they had never seen such terrible treatment of a child in their lives. And if it wasn’t clear from crime scene she was torn out of, it’s now clearly written all throughout the poor thing. After four years of brutalization, the child’s nothing like the carefree little girl she should be.
“How’re you feeling, Georgia?” Julie asks as she continues down the road, glancing back at the little girl through the rear-view mirror. The child’s brow is raised in worry, and her bottom lip is trembling with fright. Even though everything’s been explained to her multiple times, she’s still unsure what’s about to happen; all she knows is that she’s being brought to live with a strange man she’s never met before.
“It’s okay to be anxious, sweetheart,” Julie soothes, sensing the girl’s uneasiness despite her silence. Georgia’s not one to talk unless she must, and her social worker knows this. Over the past few weeks as they’ve worked together, the young lady has become very skilled at picking up on the little one’s shifting moods, even when she’s not willing to say a single word. “It’s just for a few days, remember? Then I’ll come back and check in to see how things are going. Nothing’s permanent yet,” the woman promises.
The arrangement was suggested by Julie and agreed to by Mr. Drysdale: Georgia will stay at the Drysdale household for three and a half days, three nights. Then, the social worker will return to evaluate the fit and make further custodial decisions. This way, either side has a chance to back out. And if Julie’s being honest, she’s all but assuming the man will surely want out by the time the fourth day rolls around. From everything she’s gathered on him, there’s no way he’s the fatherly type.
“Oh, looks like this is the one,” Julie comments, trying to keep her voice light and cheerful as she pulls into the driveway of the strange-looking house. Georgia’s eyes widen as her eyes land on the peculiar building, the boxy shape and modern design features making her question if it’s actually a house at all. “It’s not like any house I’ve ever seen before, how neat,” Julie comments as she sees the little girl’s confusion through the mirror, shifting the car into park and undoing her seatbelt. Barely visible from the car, a tall man stands in the open doorway, the most noticeable thing to Georgia about his appearance being the thick fluffy sweater he’s wearing.
“I’m going to go say hello, and then we’ll come back to the car for you to meet him. That okay with you, honey?” Julie asks. Not sure how to respond, Georgia gives a small nod, earning a smile from the social worker. “Okay, sweetie. I’ll be right back,” the woman promises, exiting the car and shutting the door behind her.
“Mr. Drysdale,” she greets as she makes her way further up the driveway.
“Call me ‘Ransom,’” the man responds, a dislikeable hint of uninterest evident in his voice.
“Ransom,” Julie corrects herself as she approaches the tall set of sliding doors where the young man stands. “My name is Julie Sullivan; I’m with Child and Family Services from the state of-”
“Ah yes, Ms. Sullivan, we spoke on the phone,” the brunette butts in, flustering the woman slightly as she nods.
“We did, indeed. As outlined in our arrangement, I’ve brought my client Georgia with me; she’s prepared to stay with you through Friday morning until I return to perform an evaluation.”
“Great,” Ransom replies flatly. “Where’s the kid?”
“Still in the car,” Julie tells him, trying to hold onto her patience. “She’s brought an overnight bag with all of her belongings; I have a car seat issued by the state as well for you to use.”
“A car seat? I thought she was four,” the clueless man asks incredulously, “what, does she need diapers, too?”
“Mr. Dry- Ransom,” Julie states, a sense of near pleading creeping up into her voice. “The child is four… I thought you said you-”
“Yeah, yeah, I read over the paperwork you sent,” he waves her off, his nose scrunching slightly at the thought of all the parent-training material he had to skim through. “Don’t worry, I was mostly kidding about the diapers. We’ll be just fine,” he says, though his words do little to reassure the woman in front of him.
“You have my contact information, so please feel free to reach out at any time if you have questions or concerns. The line for the department is on my card as well, in case I don’t pick up,” Julie reminds him. “Ransom, please. Please remember everything we talked about in regards to Georgia; you need to take extreme care in your interactions with her. She’s-”
“I know, I know. ‘Not a normal kid,’ I remember,” Ransom quotes their earlier conversation. Sighing, Julie nods, knowing she has little power to do anything more than hand the poor girl over and wait to see what happens.
“That’s right. So please, please do your best to be gentle with her.”
“Alright, lady. I’ll do my best. But I gotta tell ya, I’m no softie,” he admits as the two begin making their way back down the driveway together.
Through the backseat window, Georgia watches with wide doe eyes as the pair approach the vehicle, a hoarse whimper rising in her throat at the sight of the unknown man. Opening up the car door, Julie offers the wary child a bright smile as she introduces, “Okay, sweetheart. This is Mr. Drysdale-”
“Ransom,” the man cuts her off, his deep voice causing the little girl to flinch. He almost doesn’t notice it, though; he’s too caught up thin line of tears he can see beginning to build up in her bambi eyes.
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dadplease · a month ago
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[disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read eun's full statement here.]
summary | ransom drysdale is the last person anyone would suspect to be a doting father. but when a paternity test reveals his relation to four year old georgia pine, the man finds himself turning into quite the softie for the peculiar little girl who’s been in such desperate need of his love and care.
pairing | soft!dad!ransom drysdale x oc!georgia pine
warnings | mentions/depictions of early childhood trauma and abuse, trauma symptoms in a child, incredibly soft!ransom, specific warnings included in each chapter
chapter one: a little house tour
chapter two: crybaby
chapter three: like a dog
chapter four: discoveries
chapter five: a place to sleep
chapter six: to leave her there
chapter seven: a new day
chapter eight: for the first time
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dadplease · a month ago
time for bed, babybug. [blurb.]
☼ written for eun’s 1.5k sleepover ☼
[disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this this blog. for more information on this blog’s commitment to protecting minors, read eun’s full statement here.]
summary | ransom coaxes you to sleep after staying up for way too long.
pairing | ransom drysdale x reader
warnings | reader is sleep deprived af and cognitively compromised, soft!doting!ransom (like so soft like the pet names and everything are just :’’-) probably almost definitely ooc) no im not even kidding seriously the softest ransom i've ever written, just really fluffy<3
requested by anon | reader being super tired but she cant sleep and she’s all floaty from lack of sleep and saying things like ‘my body is so tired’ and Chris cuddles her and helps jer sleep
an | okay this request was sent to me by a dear dear friend after the sleepover, she couldn’t make it due to timezones:-( but!! i still wanted to write it for her. she also sent another one with ransom and said to choose so i have decided to like,, do this request but with ransom? since there were not many other ransom blurbs/ hope that makes sense and hope you guys enjoy!!
“Come on babybug, time for bed,” Ransom tells you as he carries you bridal style up the stairs to your shared bedroom.
“No sleep. Can’t do it. Gonna later,” you mumble weakly in protest, causing Ransom to shake his head and almost laugh as he brings you over to the bed, setting you down. The moment his arms pull away from you, your eyes grow wide, a huge pout forming on your face as you motion for him to hold you again. “Ran,” you whine, puffing out your bottom lip.
“Okay, okay, just a sec, doll. Gonna get you some jammies, wouldn’t be very comfy to sleep in your jeans.”
“No sleep. Cuddles,” you plead. Ransom chuckles as he returns to you, helping you out of your sweatshirt, bra, and pants before slipping one of his old t-shirts over your head, leaning down and kissing your forehead before tossing your other clothes in the hamper.
“We gotta sleep, honey. You’re functioning at like, twenty-five percent brain capacity. And that’s if I’m being generous in my estimate,” he tells you with raised eyebrows, quickly changing himself into some pajamas before coming back to finally join you on the bed.
“My brain’s really big. Twenty five is plenty,” you mumble as he helps you lay down, wrapping his arms around you while your head rests comfortably against his chest.
“Oh yeah? Then how come you were trying to use your graphing calculator to turn on the TV?” he asks through a chuckle, fussing your hair slightly as you groan.
“Wanted to see what was on,” you say innocently, only causing the man to laugh more. “Don’t laugh at me,” you pout. “I don’t need sleep. I need coffee and cookies and cuddles, that’s it.”
“Yeah, and you’ve been running on those things for how many days now?” he asks, his voice softening with concern. “Come on, sweet girl. Sleepy time now. You could barely make it up two steps before you needed me to carry you; aren’t you exhausted?”
“Body’s so tired,” you hum, hating to admit it.
“I know, lovebug. It’s okay, you can sleep. I’ll stay here with you and hold you the whole time, okay? Then in the morning we can have pancakes. Deal?”
“Lots’a syrup?” you ask hopefully.
“All the syrup you can eat, doll,” he promises.
Humming again contently, you snuggle into Ransom’s chest, eyelids growing heavy as his heartbeat pounds gently against your ear.
“Night night, bunny,” you hear him whisper as the world fades out. “Love you loads.”
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dadplease · a month ago
his sunshine.
[disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this this blog. for more information on this blog’s commitment to protecting minors, read eun’s full statement here.]
summary | after ransom startles you by getting in a yelling match right outside his front door, he decides he needs to make it up to you and remind you just how sweet and loving he can be.
pairing | ransom drysdale x reader
warnings | ransom being a softie(<3), but also ransom being a dick at the v beginning? lol, sMUT! uhh it’s just fingering, lots lots lots of praise, big daddy vibes (per usual), squirt(!)
requested by @wecanfeelsofarbutsoclose | So I’m back with another request, with a small twist this time 😊 This time it involves Ransom Drysdale himself! So I was thinking of a “Grumpy vs Sunshine” kind of vibe where Ransom has kind of a secret relationship with the reader who’s a friend of Meg’s and he finds himself kind of changing his playboy esque ways for her and maybe there’s some smut sprinkled in there you know? Sorry I kind of ran out of ideas at the end 😂
an | hi friend!! thanks so so so much for this request, and sorry it took so long!!! i love all your requests so please always feel free to send more <3 okay so this is my first time writing for ransom and i am a little scared but this concept is so cute like!!! he’s such a dick to everyone BUT reader bc she’s his little baby and he’s so so so soft for her :’-) so anyway, hope you enjoy!
“Because it’s weird, Ransom! She’s my friend! Why can’t you find someone your own age?!” you hear your (maybe no longer) best friend Meg screaming from your boyfriend’s driveway as he shouts at her from half-way through the front door, his meaner side something you always hate to see.
“She chose me, Meg! She did! And maybe if you weren’t such a shitty friend, you’d accept that!” Ransom booms back, causing you to jump. He glances over at you the minute you do, his face shifting completely from furious to concerned in a matter of moments.
“Fuck you, Ransom! Who the hell do you think you are, lecturing me about being a shitty friend?!” Meg seethes. You begin tugging nervously on the sleeves of your sweater, one of Ransom’s that he wrapped you up in this morning when he helped you get dressed, just one of the many things he loves doing for you. To everyone else, Ransom Drysdale is the devil. But just for you, he turns into the sweetest of angels, and you love him to death for it.
“Eat shit, Meg,” Ransom huffs as he slams the door to her, rushing over to you immediately after and wrapping you up in his arms. Still shaking slightly from the conflict, he lifts you up, carrying you over to the couch and setting you down on his lap.
“Hey, pretty baby, it’s alright,” he soothes, his voice full of warmth and tenderness as he rubs your back comfortingly, trying to catch your gaze with his own. “Where’re those eyes, sweet girl? There you are,” he coos as you glance up to meet his baby blues, a few tears having made their way down your cheeks at this point. “Oh, sweetie,” he murmurs, reaching out and thumbing at your cheek gently. “What’re the tears for, huh? Don’t cry, y/n. I’m sorry, please don’t cry.”
“Sorry,” you mumble, a slight pout making its wa onto your face as concern continues to flood Ransom’s face.
“No, no ‘sorry’s, baby. It’s okay; did I scare you?” Sheepishly, you nod, and he sucks in a breath, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, y/n. I know how much you hate seeing me when I’m like that. I should’ve taken it outside or something. Please don’t cry, sweetheart. You know I’d never be scary with you like that.”
“I know,” you say with a nod, pulling yourself together. “‘m sorry. Just get scared,” you admit.
“I know, honey. I know. I’m sorry,” he says again, wrapping you up tightly in his arms. “I promise I’ll always be soft with you, sweetheart,” he tells you. “You’re my precious little baby, and I won’t ever be anything but gentle with you, princess. I swear.”
“Okay,” you giggle slightly as the last of your tears dry up, your heart fluttering as he dotes over you just like he always does. “Love you,” you mumble as you look up into his eyes timidly, and the warmth and affection gazing back at you is almost enough to melt you entirely.
“Love you more, sweetheart. Such a pretty girl for me, aren’t you,” he coos, stroking your hair back behind your ear. “You’re my sunshine; you know that?”
“Mhmm,” you hum happily, your breath catching slightly in your throat as he drags a hand down from the middle of your back to your hips. “R-Ransom?” you stutter.
“My pretty little baby. Isn’t that right?” he sings as his eyes wander all over your body perched atop his lap. “Wrapped up all nice in my warm in my sweater. You look just like a doll, sweetheart,” he sighs into your hair as he reaches a hand under the thickly-knitted garment. His fingers brush up gently against your lower back, causing you to moan slightly as your head leans against his firm chest.
“I wasn’t very nice today, was I, sweet girl? Made you cry?” Ransom coos softly as his hand travels down to the band of your leggings. You nod silently, and he shakes his head in response, telling you, “Now I need to make it up to you, don’t I? Need to make you forget all about the big scary guy yelling out the door. Need to remind you how soft and sweet I am with you, huh, princess?”
“Y-yes, please,” you almost gasp as his hand sinks into your leggins, trailing around your front side and slipping under your panties as well.
“Look at that, so wet for me already, doll,” he comments as he runs a gentle finger through your slit. “That’s my good baby, always so good for me.” A quiet whimper escapes your lips as he rubs up against your clit with his thumb, beginning to pump one of his fingers into your opening slowly at first, careful, just as he always is. “Such a tight little pussy,” he mumbles as his thick finger stretches you out, “can barely take my finger.”
“P-please, Ransom,” you pant as he increases his pace on your clit, gradually beginning to ram his finger faster and faster into your tingling pussy.
“’Please’ what, pretty girl?” he asks teasingly. “You gonna cum for me? Gonna cum from just my fingers?” A warm, desparate sensation builds up in the pit of your belly as he continues to finger-fuck you, your legs trying to squeeze shut, but Ransom grabs your thigh with his free-hand, holding you open as you begin to whimper loudly, the stimulation becoming entirely too much. “That’s it, sweetheart. Now cum for me, cum in your panties and make a mess.” And at his word, every muscle in your body contracts as a tidal wave of pleasure washes over you, sending your eyes rolling into the back of your head as your toes curl up and you squirt all over his hand. Ransom grins widely as you cry out, praising, “That’s it. Such a good girl, cumming so hard for me. Look so pretty when you cum.”
When you finally begin to wind down from your high, Ransom slows his movements, his hand coming to a stop against your throbbing pussy. “Such a good girl, made such a mess,” he coos as you slump against him from exhaustion, causing him to chuckle. “Alright, princess,” he says, planting a kiss on the top of your head. “Let’s go get you cleaned up,” he hums as he wraps you up in his arms, fully intending on carrying you to the bathroom and giving you a nice warm bath himself.
189 notes · View notes