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what-is-your-plan-today · 3 years

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Real Life Tasks With Ransom Drysdale

An Advent Calendar of 24 Normal Human Tasks As Performed By A Huge Man Baby.

Day 1: The Case Of The Mysterious Shrinking Sweater.

Warnings: Bad Language words

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N: So this all came about as myself, @sweater-daddiesdumbdork and @jennmurawski13 saw a post about Ransom doing everyday things…and yeah, it kinda spiralled. The series will consists of one-shots and drabbles, all light hearted…and the occasional little bit of smut thrown in for your pleasure and we hope a nice countdown to Christmas after what has been an utter shit-show of a year.

We will be taking it in turns to alternate posting so keep your eyes peeled for the next instalments as they arrive. I’ll be re-blogging and tagging my list.

Series Masterlist.

People say that being pregnant was an enjoyable experience, that you glowed and bloomed. But right now the only thing blooming was the feeling of nausea in the pit of your stomach. You lay still, hoping that it would go away, but as usual it didn’t. Swinging your legs off the side of your huge bed, you hurried barefoot over the plush carpet of the bedroom you shared with your husband before dropping with a thud to the floor of the en-suite, emptying the contents of your stomach into the porcelain bowl of the toilet. You repeated the motion again and again until you were retching dry air, your eyes watering, throat stinging and you let out a little sob.

At almost 22 weeks pregnant, this was ridiculous. The whole morning sickness was supposed to have eased off by now, but not for you. Oh no. Mind you, what else were you to expect given that you were expecting his baby.

The spawn of Satan…

“Y/N?” your husband’s deep baritone hit your ears and you turned to look up at him as he stood in the doorway, clad only in his boxers. Strong thighs gave way to a tapered waist, a flat yet slightly soft stomach ran into the hard planes of chest muscle and sculpted arms from years of playing polo (God forbid the asshole do any other form of manual exercise, well apart from the obvious one that got you into this mess in the first place that is). Broad shoulders stretched either side of a strong neck which supported that damningly handsome face with the jawline that could cut glass and those deep blue eyes that had ruined your panties the first time you’d seen them.

Hugh Ransom Drysdale was a beautiful bastard. And he knew it.

“You ok?” he asked. You narrowed your eyes before a fresh wave of nausea hit you and you retched once more.

“Do I look ok?” you shot back, sinking back onto your heels, wiping at your face. You felt Ransom move from the doorway and then heard the tap running.

“Here.” One hand settled between your shoulder-blades, the other handed you a glass of water as Ransom knelt besides you, his blue eyes bearing the warmth that he reserved only for you. You took the drink without a thanks, the usual sarcasm he would display at such an action remained unsaid as you drained the glass and passed it back. “Can I do anything else?”

“Fast forward to January next year so the baby’s here?” you grumbled “I can’t take another damned 4 months or whatever of this, Ransom!”

“Sorry Princess.” He chuckled, “I can’t help you there.” “I hate you.”

“So you keep saying.” He shrugged “But the fact you’re pregnant with my son…kinda proves that you don’t.”

“We were drunk. Besides, hate fucking is a thing.”

“Is hate marrying?”

“Yup.” You nodded. “I only married you so I could divorce you for your money.”

“Well that was almost 2 years ago so why you still here?” he drawled back and you looked at him, snorting as a smirk spread across his face before he tossed his head slightly to throw back the strands of his hair that had fallen forward over his forehead “Thought so.”

“Asshole.”

With a roll of his eyes Ransom helped you to your feet, glancing down at your chest, your swollen breasts visible down the front of your camisole top. His eyebrow arched a little as he raised his head to meet your eyes and you snorted.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Oh come on baby!” he whined, his hands falling to your hips, pushing up the silk of the top you were wearing, his thumbs skating over the curve of your bump “You know what seeing you like this does to me.”

“Seeing me like what? Red faced with puke in my hair?”

“Yeah the puke not so much.” He wrinkled his face, “But I can think of an arrangement here that could potentially eliminate that particular issue.”

“You’re not fucking me in the shower.” You shook your head.

“But…”

“No buts Ransom.” You looked at him as he glared back, his face now wearing the usual petulant expression he bore when he didn’t get his own way “Stop being a brat. I’m up now and I got stuff to do.”

“Yeah? Like what?” he folded his arms. You gave a groan of exasperation.

“I have a conference call with my boss at midday…”

“It’s a Saturday.”

“I know that, but we have a big case…”

“You don’t need to work, tell him to fuck off.”

As usual you ignored Ransom’s dig about your job. He could never understand why you insisted on keeping your role as a Legal Secretary, but then again what was to be expected from the trust fund Man-Baby who had never worked a day in his life. “And there’s a pile of laundry to do.”

“I don’t know why you won’t let me hire a maid….”

“I don’t WANT A FUCKING MAID!” you exploded. Ransom’s eyebrows shooting upwards slightly was the only reaction to your shouting that he gave. “This is our home...”

“Well with the baby on the way, maybe you might want to reconsider that stance.”

“Or maybe you could start pulling your weight.” You jabbed him in his chest. He glanced down at your finger, his eyebrow arched as he looked back at you.

“Pulling my weight?”

“Yes.”

“Exactly how?”

“I dunno…how about you start performing those little real life tasks that normal people do Ransom? You know, the laundry, cleaning the bathroom, loading the dishwasher, making the bed, cooking breakfast or dinner…”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He scoffed and you groaned “You know I can’t cook.”

“How do you think I learned?” you shook your head, before rubbing at your temple. “I practiced.”

“Yeah, not gonna happen Princess.”

“What a surprise” you shrugged “God forbid Hugh Ransom Drysdale get his hands dirty.”

“Don’t fucking call me that.” He snapped and you snorted. Of all the names you called him, it was his actual name that riled him so much. It was ridiculous, but also too good an opportunity to pass up. He was an asshole at times, and you took none of his shit. You never had done, not since that fateful day you met in that lecture hall at Harvard some 10 years or so ago. Truth be told, he’d often admitted it was the fact you gave him nothing but shit, called him out and basically ignored him for 6 months, despite the fact that you desperately wanted him to do very rude things to you. Your ambivalence provided him with a challenge and he pursued you with a dogged determination which you eventually gave in to towards the end of your first year of Study.

“Why not?” you shrugged, deciding to poke the bear a little more because, well, you could…that and you kind of enjoyed watching that vein pop in his neck when he was pissed “Isn’t that what the help call you? I mean I might as well be your help all things considered.”

“You’re my fucking wife.” Ransom spoke through grit teeth, his jaw set, neck strained (ah, there was that vein!)

“Well here’s a novel idea.” You smiled up at him “Why don’t you start acting like I am instead of some glorified housekeeper that you fuck and keep in your bed.”

“Ok, I’m gonna let that slide due to hormones.” Ransom’s hands fell to his hips.

“You’re gonna let it slide?” you scoffed

“Yes.”

“Whatever.” You took a deep breath “Now get out I need a shower.”

“So….just so we’re on the same page, you don’t want me to-“

“NO RANSOM!” you growled, shoving his chest. He sniggered, stepped back with his hands up, palms open as he backed out of the door, closing it behind him.

*****

Ransom could hear Y/N’s voice as it drifted softly through the closed door of the study into the hallway and he rolled his eyes. Her boss was a jerk, making her call in at midday on a fucking weekend, all because he was too incompetent to cope himself. She should be curled up on the sofa, watching junk, eating crap, wearing nothing but one of his sweaters. She’d been looking for her favourite one before, cursing when she’d realised it was in the laundry hamper and mumbling about how she’d pop it into the machine later.

“How about you start performing those little real life tasks that normal people do Ransom? You know, do the laundry…”

Ransom paused by the stairs, before he smirked a little. “Oh you’re gonna eat your words, Princess.” He mumbled, before he bolted upstairs and into their bedroom, through to the en-suite. Tipping the hamper up on its side he looked down at the pile of clothes and frowned. Y/N normally sorted them into separate piles, but he wasn’t sure how…or why now he thought about it.

Fuck it, there was nothing google couldn’t solve.

He soon found out, thank you Housewives Online, that they needed to be sorted according to colours. Whites, brights and darks. So, as his sweater was blue it could go in the colours pile. He nudged the other two piles to the side of the room with his foot before he gathered the one he wanted in his arms, wrinkling his nose at the fact he actually had dirty clothes in his hands and made his way downstairs. He wandered through the kitchen and into the utility room at the back, before he stuffed the items into the machine and then looked around for the detergent. He found it on a shelf over the back of the room along with the fabric softener. Grabbing them both he then paused as he realised he didn’t actually know where it went.

Okay, so this had to be a process of elimination. He pulled open the little drawer on the front and smirked as he noticed the sections were labelled.

“Piece of cake.” He poured in what he deemed enough of each and then shut it, before he looked at the digital dials on the front.

“For fucks sake…” he grumbled, punching a few buttons. Eventually the display kicked in, offering him a one hour-thirty hot wash.

“Well, who washes clothes in cold water?” he shrugged, pressing the green button. As he stood back the machine kicked into life and Ransom nodded, congratulating himself, before he decided he’d earned himself a beer.

****

“Son of a…” you heard the curse as you opened the door to the study and frowned. Whilst your call had lasted a little longer than it should have, surely Ransom couldn’t have gotten himself into that much trouble in the space of two hours. You followed his string of expletives down the hall, through the kitchen and into the laundry room to find Ransom holding what looked like a smaller version of his sweater in his hands.

“What are you doing?” you frowned.

“Singing a duet with Beyonce, what does it look like I’m doing?” he snapped.

“It looks like you’re doing laundry.” You ignored his shitty comment and arched an eyebrow, one hand falling to your small bump.

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“Where did you get that little…” you trailed off as you realised that it wasn’t a smaller version of his gorgeous navy blue, soft woolly number in his hands, it WAS his gorgeous navy blue, soft woolly number “You shrunk your sweater?” He glared at you as you started to laugh “Oh my god, you dumbass!”

“It wasn’t me it was that fucking shitty machine.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the machine.”

“Well why did it shrink then?”

“What programme did you put it on?”

“Programme?” he frowned “I just turned it on.”

With a sigh you rubbed at your temple “There are different settings depending on what you’re washing.” You stated “That’s wool. It should have been on a cool cycle.”

Ransom looked at the item in his hand and you watched as his shoulders sagged a little. “I wanted it to be nice and clean for you to wear later.” He sighed as he peeked up at you, a strand of hair falling over to his brow. Your heart instantly melted, little gestures like this from him meant the world as it was his way of showing he cared. He could buy you all the expensive shit in the world but these were the little things you craved.

“Oh baby!” you chuckled as you stepped forward, leaning up to kiss his cheeks. “It was a nice thought…” you took the sweater off him and looked at it “But even I don’t think I’ll fit into that. It’s tiny.”

Ransom looked at it before his face suddenly curled into a smile “Baby boy tiny?”

You let out a laugh “Maybe not baby boy tiny, but little child boy tiny, sure.”

“We’ll save it for him then.” He said, tossing it down into the basket of wet items that needed to be dried. “His first hand-me-down.”

You smiled as his hands dropped to your hips and pulled you closer. “You’re a big softy really, aint you?” you reached up to brush that stubborn strand of hair back of his forehead and he shrugged before he grinned, rocking his pelvis forward.

“I won’t be soft for long.” His head dropped and he nipped at your ear “Let me show you what Husband chore I’m actually good at.”

#real life tasks with ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale fic

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denny-writings · 3 years

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Move on

#asking for advice #all is forgiven #accepting change #mistakes were made #two very different vibes #know the difference #real life tasks with ransom drysdale #godslove #godisonthemove #godschild #godislove #godisgood #godsword #godspromises #godswork #godsplan #godisgreat

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starryevermore · 3 years

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she gets the flowers: just walk away (4) ✧ ransom drysdale

she gets the flowers ✧ a ransom drysdale series | ao3

pairing: ransom drysdale x fem!reader

summary: you try to put your past behind you.

word count: 1,893

warning(s): reader moves on, introduction of new love interest :))

Despite what Ransom had said, you were fully capable of getting a job on your own. And you did. You’d begun applying for jobs outside of Boston the second you got home from that horrific confrontation. And, within a month of you confronting Ransom, you’d already received several offers all over the country. Admittedly, you weren’t a big fan of leaving the East Coast. Sure, LA had been your dream once upon a time, but you knew now that your heart laid on your side of the country. So, instead of picking a job that would’ve required you to thousands of miles from your childhood home, you picked one a little closer. Far from Boston, far from Ransom, but still close. You accepted an offer at a firm in New York City, put in your two week’s notice at Blood Like Wine, and made your preparations to move.

You’d thought it would be more difficult to move than it was. And it was difficult, but in ways that you expected. You knew it would be hard to pack up your life, to wrangle your way out of leases, to find a new apartment, to eventually settle in a new city and a job workplace. You knew that would happen. But, it was easier than you’d thought it would be to just say goodbye to your life in Boston. You didn’t have as many ties to the city as you once thought you’d had. A year ago, you would’ve struggled to say goodbye. But a year ago you had friends who cared and you…you had Ransom. But now? Your friends were looking to drop you soon, and you knew now that Ransom was not yours.

So, yeah, the move was easier than you thought.

Settling in was pretty easy, too. Honestly, your new apartment felt more like a home than your old one ever did. Maybe it was because it hadn’t been tainted by…his presence. Perhaps he was right when he said he had a part to play in getting your last apartment. You remembered touring apartments with him, him cleverly dropping his own name every chance he got in an attempt to let the landlords know that, if they didn’t give you the apartment you wanted, they’d have him to deal with. But this apartment? It was yours. And you got it all on your own. Everything you had in New York was your own. You’d scrubbed Ransom out of your life, for good.

You didn’t think much of him, anymore, if you were being honest. While his words hurt, cut deep, you finally were able to put to rest all of the “what ifs” that had been plaguing you for so many years. Ransom didn’t care for you. He never did. And he never would. You were not his, and you would never be his again. Once upon a time, he had a chance to make you his forevermore. But that moment had long since passed. And he would never really know what he missed out on, because he didn’t know a good thing if it was staring him right in the face.

Life in New York was better. You’d made friends at work—real friends. Not the kind that got annoyed at you for talking to you. The kind that listened, that laughed with you, that went out of their way to include you. The kind that made sure you knew that they appreciated you. And it was because of them that you perhaps met the greatest person in your world.

After a late night at the office, they all were heading down to a nearby bar, and they had invited you to come along. Having nothing better to do, and enjoying their company, you found yourself going along with them. The bar was decently busy—not too crowded as it wasn’t so late into the night, but not devoid of people as people started coming in as they got off work. When you all got there, you were tasked with getting a table while a couple of your co-workers went and got drinks for everyone and your other co-worker ran to the bathroom.

So, there you were, alone at a table while you waited for your friends to return. And that’s when everything changed.

“What’s a girl like you doing alone on a Friday night?”

You turned, and felt your eyes go wide as you looked up at the man who was speaking. He was six foot, at least, with shining blonde hair and pretty blue eyes. He wore a gentle smile paired with a plaid button down and jeans. And he was…Holy fuck, he was—

“Just waiting for my friends to come back,” you said. “But gotta ask you the same thing. What’s a guy like you doing alone on a Friday night?”

“Supposed to be a wingman for my friend, but I think he’s got it handled,” he said, jutting a thumb back at his friend over at the bar who was laughing with a stunning girl. “Figured I could try my own luck with a pretty girl.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. “Yeah? And who might that pretty girl be?”

“Oh, you know exactly who I’m talkin’ about, angel,” he said. “You’re easily the most gorgeous girl in the whole city, maybe the whole state.”

You felt your face grow warm, giggling as you took in your compliment. Wow, no man had ever spoken to you like this. Never been so forward about their interest in you. You liked it, and you could only hope that he’d keep it up. “You know, if you’re gonna butter me up like this, the least you could do is give me your name.”

“Steve,” he said. “Now what’s your name? It’s only fair I get yours, you know”

“Y/N.”

“Mm, such a pretty name for a pretty little angel,” he said. “So, where’s your friends at, angel? Wanna know how much time I got before they try and steal you away.”

“Oh, they’re—” you turned, looking around before your eyes settled on the three of them at the bar, pointing and grinning as they watched you interact with Steve. “—watching us.”

He followed your line of sight, chuckling. “Looks like we got ourselves an audience. Whaddya say we get outta here, and I take you somewhere nice?”

“And what’s your idea of someplace nice?”

“Well, that’s a surprise, angel. You only get to know if you agree.”

“Promise it’ll be someplace worthwhile?”

“Oh, I can promise you that you’ll love it, angel.” He held out his hand for you to take. “So? Whaddya say? Come with me?”

“I’m yours for the night.” You placed your hand in his, your fingers interlacing together. He grinned, and slowly led you out of the bar. “And, if you’re lucky, you might have me for even longer.”

“Trust me, after tonight, you’ll wanna be mine just as much as I want to be yours.”

He took you a few blocks down to a cute little cafe, sat you down in a booth in a corner and got you both a cup of coffee. You spent hours in that cafe just talking about anything and everything. He was curious about where you were from, knowing that your accent was not that of a typical New Yorker’s, and when you told him that you were from Boston, he wanted to know what brought you to New York. And you told, save for the more personal details, about how you didn’t feel like you belonged in your hometown anymore and, after a conversation with an ex, you knew that the only way you could properly move on was to start all over in a brand new city. He asked about what you did, what you liked, what your interests were. And he listened. He actually listened, showed a genuine interest in what you were saying. And something about that just made you feel so…giddy. Childlike, almost. Like how you used to feel when you’d babble on about something to your mom, and she’d ask questions cause she knew a thing or two about fostering curiosity in children. It made you feel appreciated, and that wasn’t something you’d felt in a long time.

By the time the cafe closed, he had your number and a promise to ask you on a real date, real soon. And he was true to your word. He called you the very next morning, asking about when you were free so he could book a reservation at a restaurant he was so sure you’d love. When that night came, he went all out. Showed up at your apartment in a well-pressed suit, brought you a pretty bouquet of flowers, and didn’t stop complimenting you the whole night. Told you were gorgeous, stunning, a goddess walking amongst men. At dinner, he made sure to open the door for you, gave you his attention the entire night, paid for the meal, made you feel like you were important to him. So, when he asked you on a second date, there was not a doubt in your mind that it was something you wanted.

A second date turned to a third, turned to a fourth, to a fifth, to a sixth—

Yeah, it was going really, really well. But, still, you almost doubted it. After so many dates, after spending so much time together beyond dates, he still hadn’t asked the question you wanted to hear. Should you ask him? But…but what if you ruined everything? What if he wasn’t looking for something serious, even though he’d shown such clear interest in you? What if he was Ran—

No. Stop that.

You tried to push the thoughts out of your mind as you cuddled up to Steve on the couch in his apartment, watching some rerun of a show from the 90’s that Steve said he hadn’t seen yet. But, when you looked up at him, you couldn’t stop yourself from asking, “Stevie, what are we?”

He looked down at you, his brows furrowing together. “Whaddya mean, angel?”

“I just…It’s gonna sound dumb,” you mumbled, looking away.

He titled your chin up so you would look at him again. “Nothing you say is gonna sound dumb to me. Just tell me what you’ve got goin’ on in your mind.”

“I…Do you not…I…” you stumbled over your words, trying to figure out the right way to phrase your feelings. You took a deep breath in an attempt to calm your nerves before finally saying, “I’m just worried that you don’t like me for real since, you know, we’ve been on so many dates but we haven’t made anything official.”

“Oh, angel, I didn’t mean to make you feel like this,” he said. “I promise. I just thought you might’ve wanted to take things slow, but I’ve been wanting to ask you to be mine since our first date. ”

“Promise?”

“I promise. So, what do you say, angel?” he asked, caressing your face in his hands. “Will you be mine?”

You leaned in, your lips brushing over his as you said, “Thought you’d never ask, Stevie. Of course I’ll be yours, if you’ll be mine.”

“Oh, angel, I’ve been yours the moment we met.”

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may85 · 2 years

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Sneak peak into an idea that I have...

🕸️Haunted🕸️

Y/N Harris, a real estate investor, or "Flipper" has been tasked with fixing up and selling the Thrombey estate. The previous owner, Marta Cabrera had decided that it was all too much for her to keep up.

Everyone knew the story of how she became the owner of the famous novelist, Harlan Thrombey residence and what had transpired with his grandson Ransom Drysdale who suspiciously died in prison. Marta was ready for to go back to her quiet life.

Y/N winds up getting hurt while renovating, resulting in a concussion... and an attachment from none other than Ransom Drysdale...

#chris evans #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #may85 writes

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captainmarkone · 3 years

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Chapter Two. characters: ransom drysdale x reader. warnings: none (for now), slow burn type of thing. summary: Hugh Drysdale is known for being a well known playboy; the only son of real estate mogul Linda Drysdale, the oldest grandson of famed Author and Publisher Harlan Thrombey. Not knowing what real love is, not knowing where and who to get it from until he meets someone... something that could possible change him and his life all together. But it'll take a real good woman to do so. a/n: second installment of this Ransom fic. I hope you all love it. if you see mistakes, no you didn't. this was written on my phone and not thuroughly proofread. whoopsie.

Homecoming Dance was just around the corner and I was the lucky member of staff to be a chaperone. Voluntold as they like to say. I had no choice but to agree. Not like I had anything planned for the weekend, especially Saturday night.

“Tickets will be sold at the day of the dance. And if any one has someone that would like to volunteer for the dance to be a chaperone, please contact me or the principal or even Mr. Levinson,” I said, putting my number up with the principal and Mr. Levinson number.

“Please let them call or text us before Friday, please!” I expressed, the bell ringing. Dismissing the class, I smiled at each one and waved them off.

Sighing softly, I sat down at my desk and sat back against the chair. Spinning slowly toward the board and looking at the names of those that needed to turn in late assignments.

“I’ve gotten four calls in the last hour,” Ari said, sitting at a student desk that was in front of mine. His hands gripping the front of it as he sat. He chuckled softly. “All of them women. But I did say yes to all of them,” he muttered, leaning back against the seat.

I smiled at him, shaking my head as I watched him. “Well aren’t you so lucky. It must be because they think their kids' teacher is very attractive. I haven’t gotten any!” I said, soon hearing my phone vibrate on my desk. Scared me too. “Looks like my luck is about to change!”

“Hello?” I answered, a familiar voice on the other end. “Hu- Ransom! Hi there. You’d like to…. Chaperone? Didn’t peg you for the chaperone type. For a high school homecoming dance,” I teased, I could see Ari lifting his brow.

“Yeah well, I don’t have much to do on a Saturday night,” Ransom said. He did, but he’d much rather get to know her.

“Well, I’ll put your name down. I’ll even use ‘Ransom’ as preferred name,” I said, smiling as I wrote his name down. “Great. Saturday. 5 pm. Sound good?” I confirmed and he answered ‘yes’. “See you then,” I said, hanging up.

Ari looked at me, smiling wide as he let out a soft chuckle. “Was that… you flirting?” He asked, tilting his head slightly.

“What? No. He’s cute but no. Agh, maybe. He drove up next to me when I was walking to my car. Said he wanted to make sure I got in my car safely,” I confessed, smiling softly to myself. My eyes glanced at Ari, who was just watching me thoughtfully.

“Seems he might think you’re cute too,” he said, soon standing to his feet and smiled softly. “See you Saturday,” he said, knocking his knuckle on my desk before exiting.

SATURDAY NIGHT --

The weekend had finally rolled by. Every student telling me about their dresses, suits, and other forms of attire they were planning to wear. Some even showing me pictures. I was happy my students were excited to show me, that they liked me enough to share.

Having been sent home to get dressed, I took the opportunity to look nice. After all, Ransom was going to appear. If he did. Shit. He might’ve changed his mind. Decided chaperoning was something dumb to do on a Saturday night.

‘Why are you even worried? Why do you even care? Jeez,’ I thought, shaking my head. The thoughts fleeting as I applied my mascara. Doing the final touches to the natural looking make up I decided to do.

I had dressed in the knee length red dress that had a floral pattern and the sleeves weren’t that long; cutting at the middle of my upper arms, strings tied into a not so perfect bow.

I slipped on my nude, two inch heeled sandal. The one that didn’t have the strap that wrapped around my ankle. Looking myself in the mirror, I fixed my dress. Leaving my bed room, I made it to the front door of my apartment. Unlocking the door and grabbing my small purse in the process. I walked out and made my way down the stairs, happy I only lived on the second floor.

Getting into my car, immediately locking the door, I started it up and leaned against the seat while pulling on my seatbelt.

I made to the school in time, an hour before the gym doors opened for the dance. Getting out of my car, I locked it and rounded the back of my car when I heard someone say my name. Walking up next to me, Ransom slowed. Wearing a tan overcoat, a Persian scarf, and cable knit sweat underneath with slacks for his pants. His shoes a light brown to tie in the tan jacket. I smiled at him, while his lips turned up slightly.

“Wow. You clean up very nice,” I said, smiling warmly. “Wasn’t sure if you were actually gonna show up.”

He tilted his head at me, as if I was joking.

“Only because… who really wants to spend their Saturday night… chaperoning a high school dance,” I explained further, walking with the male toward the entrance of the gym.

“Wasn't too sure, either. Dances were never my thing unless I had a hot date and we hooked up behind the bleachers on the track field,” Ransom said, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched me. His eyes scanning me.

“Well, I definitely owe you one for coming. We only have you and another guy chaperoning today. Most are women. I was voluntold to be here,” I said, chuckling softly as we approached the gym. One of the yearbook committee kids at the table with another person; assuming someone to keep her company.

They greeted me, and I smiled at them. “Hi Maxine. Hi Danny,” I said.

Ransom opened the door for me and I walked in. He was soon beside me again, as if not wanting to get lost. “Don’t worry. It’s very hard to lost in a school like this,” I teased, walking to the large group of women that surrounded the refreshment table.

“All right, I’ll be giving everyone their duties! I have about ten of you. This is great! Oh, hey!” Ari was speaking to the group, waving at me when he saw me. “About time!” He exclaimed, eyes shifting to the male beside me.

“You must be Hugh Drysdale,” Ari said, “I’m Ari Levinson. Welcome!” He continued, looking at the list on his clipboard. I could have sworn I told Ari to call Hugh Ransom.

“It’s Ransom! Don’t call me Hugh,” Ransom said, smirking softly as he eyed Ari that soon shifted his gaze toward me then back to Ransom.

“Sorry man. Ransom. Got it,” Ari confirmed, and I nudged Ransom softly. I smiled and I could see his lips slowly turning into a smile.

Calling my name, Ari said, “I want you and Ransom at the refreshment areas. Around an hour in, we’ll rotate so everyone can get a chance to dance if they’d like to. Vilma,” he continued, telling the other ladies where they’d be.

“You look really beautiful tonight,” Ransom said as we walked around the table to set up the cups of punch. I smiled, letting a small chuckle escape my lips.

“Thank you,” I said, filling the last cup that would fit on the table.

The lights soon dimmed, the DJ playing a song as kids started to flow the gymnasium. Some dancing to the fast beats of the new music, some throwbacks being played. I continued to fill cups of punch, Ransom busy at the side of me and handing out plates of food. From the stage, I saw Ari come up to the mic. “Staff and volunteers, time to switch,” he said, telling the DJ to keep up the good work.

Ransom and I moved to the side as Vilma and Jackie took over the table. We covered the exit nearest us and that’s when a random slow song began to play.

“Wanna dance?” Someone said, and I looked to my left to see a student. Hand extended. “Why it’d be an honor!�� I exclaimed, taking it and glancing at Ransom. Making my way to the dance floor with Frankie, I rested my hands on his shoulders as he didn’t quite have a growth spurt just yet. His hands rested in between my hips and waist.

“Sorry kid, but imma cut in. She owes me a dance,” Ransom interjected, hand on the kids shoulder. The kid nodded, stepping to the side and that was when Ransoms moved from my hip to his arm wrapping around my waist, his free hand taking mine and letting my other hand wrap around his neck.

“Why, Hugh. Didn’t know you could dance,” I said, smiling softly as I watched his features lighten.

“Hmm. Dancing is fun when you have someone beautiful as your partner,” he said, and I had to shake my head. Eyes looking into his, hand wrapped in his, my other playing at the hairs at the nape of his neck. It was a surreal moment.

In the corner of my eye, I could see Ari in the corner of the gym. Eyes locked on me. When I made eye contact with him, he smiled and looked away to tend to a task the he saw on his clipboard.

The song soon ended, and we drilled our movements. Eyes staring into his, I licked my lips nervously as his hand moved from my frame and his hand cupped my cheek.

“I don’t know… why or how, but for some reason I couldn’t get you out of my mind,” he muttered, eyes slowly drifting to my lips.

“I know your type Ransom Drysdale. And I will not be played,” I whispered, slowly moving from his trance. “One more dance?” I asked, continuing to play with his hair. He nodded in agreement, pulling me close.

From what I research about Ransom was that he was a playboy, a womanizer. Why was he so sudden in wanting to kiss me (at least I assumed he wanted to)? To be near me? To have his mind filled with thoughts of me? It burned in the back of my head. My guard was up, and it would never come down around Ransom. Not now, anyway.

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x you #ransom x reader #knives out #enjoy my loves

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 3 years

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Real Life Tasks With Ransom Drysdale

An Advent Calendar of 24 Normal Human Tasks As Performed By A Huge Man Baby.

Day 2: That’s Not Exactly Folgers In Your Cup

Warnings: Smut (Oral) and Bad Language Words

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N- Hello! I hope y’all are as excited about this holiday special collaboration made with @what-is-your-plan-today and @jennmurawski13 as I am. It all blossomed from early morning (for me) ramblings and we decided to do it. 2020 has been a hell of a year and we all needed a little something to smile about. And come on, whats funnier then imagining Ransom Drysdale trying to be domestic? Plus it gives some feels. There will be smut written in occasionally, so please heed the warnings to each individual fic.

Also, we are alternating, but will reblog on our accounts, if you don’t want to miss any, send a message and we will get you added to the tag list. Happy Reading.

Series Masterlist

Ransom woke before you, the early morning light streaming through the window cut right across his face and he swore into the pillow while rolling to his back to sling his arm over his eyes to cut off the annoyance. He was almost there, back in that blissful state of unconsciousness when his body took over and insisted he get up. Any further attempt to return to sleep was now disrupted when natural morning urges overtook him and he sighed while lifting his arm to let the light return, blinking rapidly to adjust to the the most inconvenient thing to plague him at this hour.

Next to him you were still asleep, soundly, peacefully which made him scowl at you for being so blissfully unconscious. He envied you in this moment as he rolled up from bed and trudged into the bathroom to take care of himself. Afterwards once he came back out, he grabbed a pair of grey sweatpants and slipped them on. You would be waking up soon, and there was one thing you always wanted before anything else, even before you were pregnant, it was a must have or else. Now you valued this all that much more since his child seemed to just suck all the energy from you, savored it more then he savored his biscoff cookies.

Your coffee. And hell be damned if you didn't get your coffee.

Now typically you make it, liking a certain amount of scoops to get you through the morning, touch of cream and a little sprinkle of sugar just to take the bite out of it. Ransom has seen you make it countless times in the morning, your over sized tee hanging around your thighs and hair piled atop your head. Your eyes would be closed while you measured, you just knew it down to the action how you wanted it. He never tried to mess with your perfection. In fact he learned early on to stay out of your way the first twenty minutes in the morning unless he was taking care of you between the sheets. That was the only equivalent you were accepting of in the morning.

This morning Ransom felt a twinge of affection now that he was awake, seeing you shift into the middle of the bed and pull his pillow into your chest like you were hugging it. Gently he leaned over and brushed the flyaway hair from your forehead and pressed a kiss there before leaving the bedroom to head downstairs.

Typically you just made Ransom a coffee too, it became almost a habit for him to want it, although he didn't need it, not like you did. But yea, he craved it and decided that this morning, since he was already up, he would just do it himself. Regardless of the fact that you had forbidden him to touch the coffee maker for some reason. Which fuck it was in his kitchen, if he wanted to use it he was going to.

“Can't be that hard, dump some grounds in, put in the fucking water.” He flipped off the top of the coffee maker to see if you pre-filled it the night before, sometimes you did. Last night was not the case though. Reached into the cupboard for the precious Starbucks coffee and opened the bag to breathe in the strong coffee bean aroma. Okay, he had to admit it was a pleasant smell, and already he could feel himself feel a bit more upbeat. He ended up setting it aside and searched everywhere for the measuring spoon, leaving a slight kitchen destruction in his path of open drawers and stuff piled on top of the kitchen counter, he just eyeballed dumping the coffee in. Completely forgetting the filter in the process.

Impatiently he waited, fingers tapping on the counter as the drip drip drip started. “It would be faster just to have someone deliver.” He muttered to himself, contemplating how much you would protest possibly hiring a housekeeper. Fran was decent… enough. He thought to himself. Aside from her being the most annoying woman his grandfather had hired. Of course she could be useful when the occasion called for it. Like now, how fucking easy would it be if someone was just delivering you two the coffee in bed.

Already he knew you probably weren't going to go for it, it was fine for Harlan according to you because he needed the help. In fact when he brought it up, your eyes rolled and you scoffed at him. “You are kidding right Ransom? You are a grown ass man, do it yourself.”

When the coffee maker finally gave the last spurt, and sounded exhausted, Ransom shook his head from the memory and turned to pull down two mugs and proceeded to pour into each. It was black, blacker than usual. He sniffed it, and needless to say it was STRONG.

Ransom just kept going, grabbing your half and half, as well as the small bit of sugar you like, he stirred it all together and brought it back up the stairs.

You were just waking up when he reentered the bedroom. Your arms lifting up to hit lightly against the headboard and your wiggling fingers while giving a yawn, you inhaled the strong scent of coffee and immediately pushed to sit.

“What is that? Is that what I think it is?” Your eyes widened as Ransom set the mug down on your nightstand with a roll of his eyes.

“Well good morning to you to Princess.” he stated as you grinned at him, reaching over for the mug while he sat on the end of the bed. You didn't dare take a sniff as if to check, not with the way Ransom was watching you intently and you just took a sip.

It hit your mouth with a ferocity that brought tears to brim to your eyes, and your taste buds screamed in protest at the gritty black death you were forcing yourself to swallow, doing everything you could to keep from spitting it out. You were just thankful that this morning you were dealing with morning sickness, yet. Somehow you forced the bitter liquid down your throat and tried to keep a straight face, as you were touched with Ransom’s act of kindness, something he was still working on. But there was no hiding your expression, as hard as you tried to keep it from Ransom.

His head dropped when he saw your face. “Fucking terrible isn’t it? See this is why you should let me hire a housekeeper.”

“Ransom, it tastes just fine. And we don’t need a housekeeper. This house isn't all that big.” You rolled your eyes as you showed him you were right by taking another sip of his coffee, forcing a smile on your face.

“I always had a housekeeper, and I turned out fine.” Ransom rebutted while moving to a stand. “Put that cup down. You can make some later.” He instructed and you were quick to set it aside, relieved not to have to pretend anymore. Ransom yanked the blankets away, making you tumble a bit in bed with a yelp.

“Ransom! What are you doing?” You looked down at him as he grasped your ankles, sliding you down the bed while he moved to kneel at the end of the bed, smirking at you.

“Cant make coffee worth shit. But I can do this, and I know you like this just as much.”

He was right, the man had a mouth on him that you had a hard time resisting, even when he was pissing you off.

Fingers delved under the band of your sleep shorts and slipped them off before draping your legs over his shoulders and pressing hungry kisses along the inside of your thigh. “Okay, you have me there, maybe I do. I'm a little scared to see what you did down in the kitchen now.”

“Nothing that can't be cleaned up.” He looked up at you, and you opened your mouth to say something about how you were going to have to clean it when he let his mouth press against your cunt and his tongue bury between the folds.

That effectively distracted you, making your words stutter from the tip of your tongue into a moan while he lapped at you, shifting between quick flicks to flattening his tongue and dragging through your folds to suck at that bundle of nerves that made you gasp his name in a needy way. Your hands shoot down to twist into his hair, holding onto his scalp while he takes you apart with his mouth. Toes curled into his upper back when he teased you further, your hips starting to rock to meet the darts of his tongue in your clenching channel. You let yourself fall back into the pillows and quit trying to reason with him or make him feel better. You just let yourself experience this new attempt at treating you.

“Please Ransom, I want to come now.” You whined out while his fingers flexed on your hips, keeping you mostly pinned in place although your body was rippling to arch and grind into him. Your heels firmly pressing into his back in an attempt to lever yourself although he was firm in his hold. Unwilling to let you move just yet. Ransom sucked folds of flesh into his mouth, the lower part of his face slick when he lifted to smirk at you, and shifted a heavy forearm across your hips, careful not to press against your stomach.

“How badly do you want to come, Princess?” He licked at his lips, brighter pink with use then normal and you glared at him down your body.

“Considering I am growing you spawn in me, you think you would treat me better.” Trying your hand at using guilt to get him into giving you your orgasm, he let his fingers stretch your open, pressing into your warmth.

“You know I love you, and only treat you fucking good.” His fingers curled to stroke your fluttering walls, enticing you to come for him with every stroke against your sweet spot. “Come on Beautiful, come undone for me so we can start our day.”

You pressed to arch but he was sure to keep you held down. You started to see stars peppering your eyesight and your mouth dropped open in a silent gasp as you came for him, that rush enveloped you to send tingles all along your nerves, and your voice finally broke out in a soft cry of his name while your toes dug into his flexing back, and fingers twisted in the sheets in a weak attempt to stay grounded.

It didn't stop him, he kept lapping at your sensitive bud, sucking and driving you to another with steady strokes of his finger. “That was just one... you know we are not stopping Princess until you have had a couple more.”

Ransom couldn't make coffee to save his life, but he certainly knew how to make you come more than just the one time.

#real life tasks with ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale fic #amber writes #sweater writes #ransom drysdale au #knives out #knives out au #knives out fic

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egcdeath · 3 years

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birthdays with the boys

in honor of my own birthday, today i’ll be sharing with you what i think your birthday with many cevans characters would be like. enjoy! <3

steve rogers

he leaves his mission early and unannounced so when you wake up to the smell of pancakes in your house, and a man with breakfast in bed you almost jump out of your skin buuut you couldn’t be happier to see him

breakfast in bed is just the start of your bday because he goes ALL. OUT.

as you finish up eating, he grabs a folded piece of paper with a wax seal on it and hands it to you

he tells you to open it once he leaves, gives you a wink, then goes

he planed a birthday scavenger hunt for you!!!

for the rest of the day, you travel around the city to a bunch of important places in your relationship, like your fav dates n stuff

at the midway point of the hunt, he meets you for a coffee and makes sure you’re still enjoying everything before he sends you off with the avenger’s company card and basically tells you to get something nice before finishing the hunt hehe

you do in fact get yourself something nice

at the end of the hunt, you end up at the compound where all of your friends and teammates are and you have a very nice birthday party

by the time that you and steve go home, you’re exhausted but wanna spend a lil more time savoring your birthday so steve suggests that the two of you watch that one cheesy rom com that you love (and he hates)

as you cuddle on the couch, popping the occasionaly popcorn kernel in your mouth, you cant help but to feel grateful that you have such an amazing boyfriend

ransom drysdale

his birthdays were always disregarded when he grew up, so he has a very extravagant celebration planned for you

we all know that he can make a pretty airtight and elaborate plan so you literally have zero idea of what he’s got up his sleeve

enter: a whole birthday week

(he sweet talked your boss into some time off so thats one whole thing you don’t have to worry about)

day one is a whole spa and a shopping day

he can’t stand some of your friends but he invites them anyway bc he knows it’ll make you happy

he’s glaring at your friends while they giggle about some new louis vuitton purse and you’re thoroughly amused by it

you give him extra kisses that night as a reward for not instigating any fights that day (awww bf of the year am i right ladies?)

day two you guys do a museum hop and look at lots of art

ransom rolls his eyes at canvases that have a few drops of paint on them and are called modern art, you think this is hilarious

day three you have a picnic together in a park

ransom knows you have an affinity for charcuterie boards and attempts to make you one himself (and it’s not all that bad), along with a bunch of dainty little sandwiches

later that day, you go to a planetarium together

on your drive back home you have an interesting convo on the meaning of life

day 4 you take a pottery class together

ransom makes the most deformed bowl you’ve ever seen in your life

so naturally you put it up for display in your bedroom (so whenever you see it you can think of him)

day five is a first class flight to some luxurious villa in europe. most of day five is taken up on a plane

ransom lets you lay your head on him while you sleep, even though the position you’re in is making it astonishingly uncomfortable for him

day six you guys explore the city all day together

ransom makes sure not to complain about his aching legs (even though yours are getting sore too, and if he said something you would’ve done something about it!)

on your real birthday (day seven), ransom takes you out to a very nice dinner, and gives you a hand written letter detailing how much he loves and cares about you (because sometimes it’s hard for him to say his feelings)

you’re extremely flattered but have no idea how you’ll top this for his own birthday

andy barber

you and andy aren’t really huge on big gestures, so he does little things throughout the day

while you’re at work, he makes a surprise stop by and brings you your favorite drink & lunch from your favorite food place

he sends a bouquet of flowers to your job as well

after work, he cooks for you then showers you in gifts

your favorite thing that he gets you is a little engraved necklace with yours and his initials on it

at the end of the day, he gives you a nice full body massage and somehow that was exactly what you needed.

maybe not the most extravagant birthday, but a good one nonetheless.

frank adler

you have a pretty chill birthday with him and mary

he brings you a cake that him and mary made/decorated together

it’s kind of hideous but you love it

you guys let mary skip class for just 1 (one) day but tell her to keep it a secret

you call the school and let her fake being sick in the background. it is a hoot

you all go to the zoo together

you take tons of pictures

your personal favorite is one where mary and frank are posing with a giraffe

after the zoo, you go bowling

when you win, the sore losers that came with you claim they were letting you win since it was your birthday

you end your day at the beach, watching mary and her cat play in the sand in your peripheral vision while you and frank admire the sunset

ah, sweet, sweet domesticity

ari levinson

you go to an escape room to celebrate your birthday

it’s just you and ari, but you’re smart so you don’t expect it to be too difficult

🚨wrong🚨

you’re both so hard headed and stubborn that doing any of the tasks is like pulling teeth

eventually the building had to close, and you’ve only finished like... a few tasks in the hours you’ve been there

this was certainly not a bad birthday though, arguing with ari is one of your favorite pastimes

and this birthday certainly did not disappoint

jake jensen

you and the rest of your team decided to go to a little retro arcade for the first half of the night

you spent way more time than necessary watching jake attempt to beat the high score of some random game

after giving up on beating the highest score on a pac-man machine, jake decided to attempt to win you a prize on the claw machine

like, $20 and a few annoyed humans in line behind him later, it was still nothing

when jake finally gave up, the next person in line won the soft and plushy elephant you had your eye on

and while your back was turned, he may or may not have paid off its rightful owner in order to get it with you

it was too sweet of a gesture for you to even try to be annoyed with jake

a bit later, you decided to partake in a game of laser tag which was going on in the same building

this was fine and dandy buuuut

everyone on your team treated every mission (real or fictional) like the end of the world

this made for a few very interesting matches

jake nearly trampled a child more than one time

good thing everyone was required to sign a waiver before playing

a custody battle over which team got to have cougar seemed to be a consistent theme during the night

when you were on different teams, you couldn’t help but notice that jake was getting a little too much pleasure out of shooting you

it was fine because you were equally enthusiastic about shooting him

you were eventually booted from the game when an employee claimed you were all being too rough

at some point you lost the elephant

but luckily for you, you found it before you went home

you were going to keep that elephant forever

johnny storm

you were genuinely convinced that johnny forgot your birthday

he did not bring it up ONCE the whole day

you’re actually kind of hurt for a while and get all in your head

johnny gets the silent treatment 🙄 (but he deserves it)

you decide to stop moping and go out, since it issss your birthday

you do your makeup and put on a skimpy little dress

as you leave your room and start enter the communal portion of the baxter building, johnny stops you and checks you out

he’s like “where are you going????”

and you’re like “out 😐”

and he’s like “are you sure? 🤨”

and you’re like yes duh

then he gestures to the side really quickly and you’re kinda confused then a whole bunch of people pop out and start cheering for your birthday

you’re kinda embarrassed that you spent so much of the day moping but you quickly get over it because you love a good party

by the time that most of your guests are gone, you force johnny to take you out to the club

and of course you warn him not to ever pull a stunt like that again

lucas lee

he forgot it was your birthday

#steve rogers x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #andy barber x reader #frank adler x reader #jake jensen x reader #johnny storm x reader #lucas lee x reader #ari levinson x reader #headcanon #chris evans x reader

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

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Real Life Tasks With Ransom Drysdale Masterlist

A collaboration with @sweater-daddiesdumbdork and @ohthankevans13

Mature themes throughout, please pay attention to individual warnings contained at the start of each piece.

Day 1- The Case of The Mysterious Shrinking Sweater Day 2- That’s Not Exactly Folgers In Your Cup Day 3- A Shock To The System Day 4- Pink To Make The Boys Wink Day 5- Anyone Can Change A Tire, Right? Day 6- Culinary Clusterf*ck Day 7- Screw This Day 8- It’s The Most Important Meal Of The Day. Day 9- Stuck On You Day 10- Shop Till You Drop Day 11- Where The Fuck Is The Top? Day 12- Duvet 1, Ransom 0 Day 13-Ironing Out The Kinks Day 14- There Is Only One Way To Load A Dishwasher Day 15- You Better Check Yourself Day 16- A Vicious Assault Day 17- Spawn Baby Has Needs Day 18- Toasted Day 19- Sparks Fly Day 20- A New Fashion Trend? Day 21- Foot In Mouth Day 22- National Lampoon Christmas Vacation Drysdale Style Day 23- Fuming Day 24- That’s A Wrap

#real life tasks with ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale fic

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what-is-your-plan-today · 3 years

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Real Life Tasks With Ransom Drysdale Masterlist

A collaboration with @sweater-daddiesdumbdork and @jennmurawski13

A Collection of 24 drabbles/one shots based upon everyone’s favourite sweater-wearing asshole.

Posting daily from now until Christmas eve.

Mature themes throughout, please pay attention to individual warnings contained at the start of each piece.

Day 1- The Case Of The Mysterious Shrinking Sweater. Day 2- That’s Not Exactly Folgers In Your Cup Day 3- A Shock To The System Day 4- Pink To Make The Boys Wink Day 5- Anyone Can Change A Tire, Right? Day 6- Culinary Clusterf*ck Day 7- Screw This Day 8- It’s The Most Important Meal Of The Day Day 9- Stuck On You Day 10- Shop Till You Drop Day 11- Where The Fuck Is The Top? Day 12- Duvet 1, Ransom-0 Day 13- Ironing Out The Kinks Day 14- There Is Only One Way To Load A Dishwasher Day 15- You Better Check Yourself Day 16- A Vicious Assault Day 17- Spawn Baby Has Needs Day 18- Toasted Day 19- Sparks Fly Day 20- A New Fashion Trend? Day 21- Foot In Mouth

#real life tasks with ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale fic #chris evans #chris evans characters

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twittytelly · 3 years

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What I read in 2021 - January

Masterlist

What I reblogged:

Foursome ask by @stargazingfangirl18

A Perfect Tree by @fangirlovestuff

Andy Barber BJ ask by @worksby-d

Go Relax by @sweater-daddiesdumbdork

Dodger and baby Evans ask by @hlkwrites

Don’t Mess with Alpine by @angrythingstarlight

Barking Up The Wrong Tree by @what-is-your-backupplan-today

Getting eaten out by Andy ask by @worksby-d

Shared by @whiskey-cokenfanfic

A Walk in the Park Masterlist by @jamielea81

Andy showing his feelings ask by @worksby-d

Well-endowed Ransom ask by @sweater-daddiesdumbdork

Caretaker Nick Vaughn ask by @stargazingfangirl18

My Favourite Mistake by @before-we-get-started

Mystery by @before-we-get-started

Make You Love Me by @slyyywriting

Dancing with Andy Imagine by @sweater-daddiesdumbdork

Movie Night with Chris ask by @hlkwrites

The Highest Bidder Masterlist by @pagesoflauren

Falling Asleep On The Sofa With Chris ask by @worksby-d

Sexytime? by @the-iceni-bitch

Cross Off by @redgillan

Taking off the Mask by @hevans-angel

No Strings Attached by @brooklyns-boys

Knit Sweaters & Cigarettes [Steve Rogers] by @shmaptainassmerica

Teasing Andy ask by @worksby-d

Curtis and Plus Sized Reader ask by @sweater-daddiesdumbdork

Reasons For A Boudoir Shoot by @sweater-daddiesdumbdork

Study Session by @whiskey-cokenfanfic

Age Gap ask by @worksby-d

Just a Simple Lie Masterlist by @jamielea81

Banging Colin ask by @stargazingfangirl18

Comforted by Chris ask by @worksby-d

Steve discovering his ‘Captain kink’ ask by @worksby-d

Being yelled at by Andy drabble by @stargazingfangirl18

Dirty Talking Nomad ask by @stargazingfangirl18

Andy Barber with a breeding kink ask by @hlkwrites

Sunny Side Up by @what-is-your-backupplan-today

The Bet Masterlist by @jamielea81

Ransom’s Polaroids drabble by @lielullabye

Sexual Healing by @gogolucky13

Ongoing Series:

His Match by @worksby-d

Real Life Tasks With Ransom Drysdale by @what-is-your-backupplan-today @sweater-daddiesdumbdork and @ohthankevans13

Money’s Worth by @pagesoflauren

Seeing Blind by @pagesoflauren

The Riveter by @pagesoflauren

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darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

Non MCU Character One Shots

Hounded: The reader doesn’t fit in at court, but she might just stick out too much. [dark!Sandor Clegane ~ 18+]

Unannounced: The reader is caretaker to the widow of the manor but one day she returns to an unexpected visitor. [dark!Charles Blackwood/Reader ~ 18+]

Long Live the King: The king shows you who is in charge. [dark!Thranduil/Reader ~ 18+]

Fact or Fiction: Your publisher has died and now you must deal with new management. [Ransom Drysdale/Reader ~ 18+]

The Man in his Castle: A co-ed discovers that money is still king. [dark!Charles Blackwood/Reader ~ 18+]

Actus Reus: You find yourself at odds with Andy Barber both in and out of court. [dark!Andy Barber/Reader ~18+]

A Tear in the Fabric: Universes collided as a malfunction brings an unexpected visitor. [dark!Steve Rogers/Reader & dark!Clark Kent ~ 18+]

In the Neighbourhood: After your grandmother breaks her hip, you volunteer to look after her as she recovers but her neighbour is a bit too friendly. [dark!Andy Barber/Reader ~ 18+]

In the Weeds: Ransom takes an interest in his new gardener. [dark!Ransom Drysdale/Reader ~ 18+]

(Un)Fortunate Misunderstanding: Your intentions are misunderstood as you struggle to comprehend those of another. [dark!Andy Barber/Reader ~ 18+]

The Whole World in his Hands: Your new neighbour isn’t as much of a stranger as you thought. [dark!Clark Kent/Reader ~ 18+]

Baby, It’s Cold…: You go to meet your online admirer but not all is as it seems. [dark!silverfox!Ransom Drysdale/Reader ~ 18+]

In Between the City Walls of Dying Dreams: One night, you’re saved by the last person you expect, but you don’t know that he’s only saving you for himself. [dark!ex-con!Andy Barber/Reader ~18+]

An Officer and a Gentleman: Your after hours work gets in the way of your day job. [dark!Lee Bodecker/Reader ~ 18+]

More Than Just a Game: You find a new gaming buddy but he sees you as more than that. [dark!Jake Jensen/Reader ~ 18+]

Born to Run: You are forced onto the road when an unwanted passenger gets in your backseat. [dark!Frank Castle/Reader ~ 18+]

Life Goes On: You volunteer at the local youth center but when one of the kids meets an unfortunate end, you cross paths with his father. No stranger to grief, you try to help him cope but find it a bigger than task that you expected. [dark!Andy Barber/Reader ~ 18+]

CTRL+ALT+DECEIT: You find your pictures on someone else’s Insta but that’s not the only thing he’s stolen. [dark!Jake Jensen/Reader ~ 18+]

Never Have I Ever: You never done one fun thing in your life, so why not getaway on a girls’ trip and see where the journey takes you. [dark!silverfox!Andy Barber/Reader ~ 18+] Sequel: Never Again

I.R.L. (camboy!Andy Barber, Defending Jacob), Part 2: Your guilty pleasures becomes and all too real terror. [dark!camboy!Andy Barber/Reader ~ 18+]

Nothing Compares 2 U: You find yourself growing apart from your husband but he has an idea of how to bring you back together. [dark!Ransom Drysdale/Reader ~ 18+]

Drag me down / Take me out: You live behind a frat house but the noise isn’t the worst thing you have to put up with. [dark!frat!Andy Barber/Reader ~ 18+]

The house by the river: Ransom invites you to his summer house for a party with the usual crowd, but not all it what it seems. [dark!Ransom Drysdale/Reader ~ 18+]

The Watcher: Your life is flipped upside down by your husband’s backroom dealing, leaving you with a protector who might not be what you expect. [dark!Rick Flag/Reader ~ 18+]

Sweet as Silence: It’s easy to be prey when you can’t scream for help. [dark!Tormund Gianstbane/Reader ~ 18+]

Lost Cause: You owe Ward Cameron a favour but paying it back might be harder than you expect. [Rafe Cameron/Reader ~ 18+]

Bring you flowers: You’re life is depressing and predictable, but a change in routine is less than welcome. [Rafe Cameron/Reader ~ 18+]

If it’s only a fantasy, then why is it killing me?: The most devoted dad in the PTA proves to be more than you can handle. [dark!Andy Barber/Reader ~ 18+]

A marriage of inconvenience: You get a rare chance at respite from your icy marriage, but can you handle the heat? [Clark Kent & Bruce Wayne/Reader ~ 18+, Regency AU]

Tempestuous: The king and his court visit Storm’s End, bringing chaos with them. [Jaime Lannister/Reader ~ 18+]

Where the Streets Have No Name: A certain vigilante becomes your personal protector. [Bruce Wayne/Reader ~ 18+]

Off the Beaten Track: Your taxi ride takes an unexpected turn. [Lee Bodecker/Reader ~ 18+]

In His Thrall: You serve the king but one day, he assigns you a new duty. [Harald Finehair/Reader ~ 18+]

Pitfall: You try to help your brother but can’t seem to help yourself. [Lloyd Hansen/Reader ~ 18+]

succulent: A nightmare comes to life. [Steve Kemp/Reader ~ 18+]

Through the Eye: A new characters brings about echoes of the past. [John Wick]

God Mode: You like games but you don’t quite understand the game a strange man plays with you. [God The Bounty Hunter]

Double Trouble: You meet a strange pair of men while waiting on your friends.[Lloyd Hansen, August Walker]

858 notes · View notes

trillian-anders · 4 years

Text

the assistant

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

warnings: violence, angst, fluff, smut && SPOILERS

word count: 6.8k

description: part 1 of 5. CONTAINS MAJOR SPOILERS, PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE NOT WATCHED THE FILM. you’ve been working for the thrombeys for four years now, the last three years of your service being a glorified babysitter to the most annoying, self-absorbed, dickhead hugh ransom drysdale.

You wanted to smack that dumb smirk off his stupid dumb face.

Hugh Ransom Drysdale. The bane of your fucking existence. Standing there with that stupid fucking smirk on his face, he fucking loved this. Watching as you cleaned up his mess. A crying girl on his doorstep and you, his assistant (aka babysitter), trying to calm her down enough to get her to leave his house. This dumb contemporary floor to ceiling windowed, minimalist, empty souled house. The girl had been picked up at a bar last night. Charmed by his handsome face, the money he was careless to spend, the way he spoke to you like you were the most beautiful thing in the world.

It was a fucking joke. A trick. You’ve seen it a million times and you’d be willing you bet that you’d see it a million more.

The door blocked her view of him, your clear view of him from the side, sipping on a mug of coffee in his hands and fucking smirking.

“He won't even see me?” You hated when they cried. Like each of them had this idea that they’d go home with Ransom Drysdale and fuck him so good that he’d tie them to his bed and never let them leave or something.

You sighed heavily before replying, “Mr. Drysdale has business to attend to, he’s unavailable at the moment, but I can leave him a message if you’d like?” You did this maybe five or six times a week. In the early morning hours, after his sexual escapade and some rest, Ransom would wake early and leave for the gym. In that time you were supposed to ‘take out the trash’ as he described it. This morning, the girl left dazed and confused in the fog taking an uber back to her home, but returning an hour later trying to plead her case. It was giving you a migraine.

The girl stepped back from the porch, shoes crunching against the gravel as she searched the windows for his face. “FUCK YOU RANSOM.” She shouted, flipping the bird into the air. The man hiding to your right, choked on his coffee in laughter as you watched the girl get back into her car and disappear from sight.

“What's on the agenda today Ransom,” You shut the door quietly, turning to face him, “Because if I have to do that again tomorrow I’ll quit.” He scoffed in indignation.

“You’re not gonna quit,” He drained the rest of his mug, “You can’t even leave the house long as you got that.” He gestured towards your leg. Sitting firmly on your right ankle was a house arrest bracelet. One meant for him, but carefully bribed into being put on your own leg. The stupid son of a bitch got away with murder, after the death of his late Grandfather’s housekeeper by his own hand and the attempted murder of the girl that got the entire Thrombey fortune, he stayed the lucky son of a bitch he had been his entire life.

Evidence was mishandled, not enough proof. That whole, ‘beyond reasonable doubt’ thing. The rich asshole got fucking house arrest and court mandated therapy. Even after there were three fucking witnesses to him attempting to murder Marta Cabrera.

Money oiled the gears of the justice system, letting the trust fund baby slip through without consequence. That’s where you come in.

You worked for the Thrombey’s before. As a tutor to Meg when she began to fail her english class. For whatever reason, Lynda and Richard Drysdale liked you, assigned you a new task. Their sweet baby boy Hugh, called Ransom by everyone but the Help. You’ve worked for Ransom for three years now. The first year before the death of his Grandfather and Thrombey patriarch, and now two years after his death and wouldn’t you know it. Hugh Ransom Drysdale wrote a fucking bestseller.

Everyone wanted an insight into this family. Harlan Thrombey always said there was so much of him in Ransom. He wasn’t lying.

Ransom wrote the first of what you knew would be many new Thrombey family murder mystery novels. And he was reaping in the cash. He was two months away from his next big release. Something you’re sure would fly off the shelves just as quickly as the first.

“Don’t worry,” He said, “I’ve got a deadline to meet.” His coffee mug abandoned by the front door for you to clean up, he left you to officially start your day. He retreated into the study he created for himself to crank out the last four chapters he needed for his book, maybe.

Due to circumstances beyond your control, you were the one placed on house arrest. As long as no one was notified that Ransom left the perimeter of the house you were being paid well, and you being paid well meant your younger sister gets taken care of. You were able to send her money every month to help with the fact that she was staying with an estranged aunt. It hadn’t been easy once your mother died, but the Thrombey’s lighten the load so to say.

That’s why you were washing Ransom’s sheets that reeked of sex, picking up and disposing of torn panties and tossing used condoms the fucking dick couldn’t be bothered enough to toss two more feet into the trash can in his on-suite. You’d invested in rubber gloves.

On days that Ransom had to meet with his probation officer he would wear a dummy bracelet. It got him by and soon the fucker would be over and done with house arrest all together. You’d be able to move back home then. Hopefully.

“Ransom, you ever gonna eat today?” You knocked on the open door of his study, bringing his attention from his computer to you, who held a bowl of pasta in your one hand. He sighed, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his eyes. There were multicolored post-its surrounding his computer. Your mind made the connection with how similar it was to his Grandfather’s own workspace. You gently placed the bowl on his desk, turning to pour him a tumbler of whiskey from the small bar in the corner of the room.

“I don’t know how the old bastard ever cranked out two books a year,” His neck cracked. “How is that even possible?” He took a large bite of the pasta, squinting at the screen. His eyes quickly shifted to yours, watching you set down the glass of whiskey in front of him. He grabbed your wrist. “Stay.” It was an order. “Sit.” You took your place in a chair across from him.

“Harlan wrote every day,” You told him, “You write whenever you’re not off sticking your dick into anything that breathes.” He laughed at that.

“Not everything that breathes,” He typed a few more words into the word document, “I haven’t fucked you yet.” Your core pulsed, he said yet.

Audibly you scoffed, “I would never willingly fuck you Ransom.” You pulled your legs up onto the chair to make yourself comfortable. He smirked at that, eyes not leaving the computer screen.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” That stupid smirk. You hated that fucking smirk. So condescending.

When you first met Ransom you were probably very much like the girls that you now pry out of his bed at 8 am. You had been tutoring Meg at the family home, sitting at the kitchen table going over Othello when he sauntered in, digging through the cabinets for snacks. You could feel Meg tense up next to you and that’s when he turned. He was so fucking pretty. Blue eyes, well kept hair, cashmere sweater, those broad fucking shoulders, and on his face, stretching that full bottom lip you wanted to tug between your teeth, was a smirk.

That pulsing throb between your thighs soon was quickly forgotten as he opened his mouth and began to speak, “How’s it going Meg, trouble reading? Or do they not teach you how to read when you’re a liberal? Lord knows you guys never fucking understand anything anyway.” Meg snapped back at him, but you were stunned. You could tell he said that on purpose, knowing it would make her go off on the tangent he was now, finding a sick pleasure in it. That was the first time you’d seen the smirk. You’d lost count of how many times you’ve seen it since then.

“I really hate you Ransom.” You sighed, sinking further into your chair. He had almost finished off the bowl of pasta by now, whiskey long since emptied. He thinks it’s funny, you hating him because he responds looking you in your eyes, maintaining his smirk,

“I know you do baby.” He liked to do that. Call you pet names. Once he had even pretended you were his wife when you accidentally walked in on him and a girl he had been balls deep in, bent over the back of the couch. He fucking LOVED that one. The girl had cried, embarrassed, apologizing as she picked her bra up from the floor and slunk out the front door behind you. That was a while ago. Pre-Murder. You should have seen it then. How insane he actually was.

Ransom was incredibly smart and was a quick thinker. It was part of the reason that he had gotten away with murder in the first place. You knew that. It showed in his novel. He would have you read chapters, give him your opinion, before writing and rewriting. Showing you again. He’d ask you if you could figure out who was the murderer, a sinister glint in his eyes, arms crossed, standing above you waiting. He could only be satisfied if you didn’t have a clue.

It was a gift, you supposed, the ease in which he wrote to make every character a possible suspect in completely new and incredible scenarios. He had three books in various states of completion that he was chipping away at, the one he was currently working on seemingly better than the previous published.

His Mother, the one who gave him the silver spoon and cursed him for having it his whole life, was suddenly proud of him. His Father, now divorced from his Mother, would come by weekly asking for money. Ransom loved that too. His Dad got nothing due to the prenup, leaving him penniless. The cushy job he had at Lynda’s real estate empire was gone, and now Dad was working at local agency scraping by on low commission. Last week his Father came to the door while Ransom was writing and muscled his way not too kindly past you into the house.

“Ransom!” He called, finding his way into his son’s study. You quietly shut the door, returning to folding laundry. The door shut tightly behind him and sounds had been muffled. It’s only when their voices went from calm to a screaming match did the door wretch open and Ransom followed his Dad out, both red faced.

“We’ve given you everything in your fucking life and you can’t even give one iota back.” Ransom opened the front door, gesturing to the porch.

“Get the fuck out, and don’t come back.” His voice stern and commanding.

“Fuck you Ransom.” With that he was gone. The silence that had settled over the house was thick, Ransom’s hand still resting against the closed door before he took a breath and, without taking a glance in your direction, returned to his study. Closing the door.

The echo of that argument sat in the house for the rest of the day, Ransom leaving soon after to find a body to lose himself in. If the murder trial did anything, it made Ransom into a bad boy and girls fucking loved it. He wasn’t, technically, guilty after all.

You attempted to clear the bowl in front of him, but was stopped by his hand. His eyes never left the screen as he brought your hand to his lips, placing a kiss in your palm, before dragging your arm to his other shoulder, hugging himself with it awkwardly until you gave in and wrapped your other arm around him, holding him tightly for a moment.

He was soft sometimes. His Mom never held him when he was a kid. He was left alone a lot while she was building her empire. Babysitters never stayed long, nannies came and went. Sometimes you truly felt bad for him, other times you remember that he was a dick and that he loved to play tricks and torment anyone and everyone that was supposed to take care of him, including you. The only difference was you weren’t able to leave.

He let you go soon after that, letting you clean up the mess from dinner and stoke the fire place warming the house that always seemed too cold. As you stood by the fire, arms wrapped around yourself you could feel him behind you, coming to wrap his arms around your waist, leaning his head on your shoulder as you stared into the flames. There was a moment or two of silence as you both stood there.

If this were any other situation, if Ransom loved you, if this was someone who loved you, if this someone cared enough to care about the things you care about, this would be kind of romantic. But it’s Ransom, and he didn’t care about anyone but himself, he definitely didn’t care about you, and he one hundred percent didn’t care about anything you care about. “I’m going out.”

His arms left your waist and his chest left your back leaving you cold. “For fucks sake Ransom, I don’t feel like throwing out a girl tomorrow morning.” You turned to watch him throwing his coat on. He smirked. He fucking smirked.

“I’ll give you a break and throw her out myself then.” And he was gone.

Hours later you’re woken by the sound of Ransom coming home, sure enough he wasn’t alone. Soft giggles and a bang, he’s shoved her against the wall beside your room. There were muffled groans as you assumed she found her knees right there in the hallway. He got off on this shit, you knew. Often stopping somewhere outside your door to start his sexual escapades. Knowing you were mere feet away, like some half-assed exhibitionism. It wasn’t long after that the girl squealed and there was more muffled talking before they moved to his bedroom. To which you shared a wall.

Your bedroom, before you were a live-in, housed a bunch of items you believed graced a teen boy’s bedroom walls at one point. And still, shoved in the corner, were playboy model cardboard cutouts, “They’re vintage, mint condition, and worth a lot.” Sure, Ransom, sure they are. Arcade games, framed patriots jerseys, a lacrosse set from his high school days. You were shoved in the middle of it all, a single bed shoved against the wall surrounded by what once was a room full of teenage boy memorabilia. A shrine to his youth.

The headboard soon came knocking and hope for sleep was lost. The girl’s moans escalating to shrieks. Either he was as good as he says, or these girls really care about his ego. Either could be true when there’s more than one comma in your bank account.

The kitchen was much quieter. A steady rocking still came from upstairs, but thankfully it was muffled by the floor. As you made a cup of tea you figured you would see if he had printed off a new chapter ready for you to read. You hope he wouldn’t have gone out without finishing it anyway.

You were not sure why you cared to be honest. You had this love/hate for Ransom. He was an annoying prick who did something really fucking horrible, but he also made it very clear to everyone involved that you had nothing to do with it. There was a scary moment there, after his arrest, when you were brought to the station for interrogation. You hadn’t known he had even gotten up to any of these crimes. He kept you completely in the dark and he was sure to let his arresting officers know that. You hadn’t even seen him since the night Harlan died when he left the party stranding you at the estate.

Money does crazy things to people. The threat of his steady income leaving was enough to push him to do something crazy. He was lucky enough that the recorded confession magically was erased. He was lucky for dirty cops. He was lucky that even though his mother despised his lifestyle she didn’t want him to go to prison. He was so lucky. Now with his first novel sitting highly on the bestseller list, he seemed even more lucky than he did before.

His study was on the opposite side of the house from his bedroom, muffling the sounds enough for you to flip through the packet left on top of his keyboard. Three chapters away from completion you were following the detective through paces where things felt more confusing than ever, the clues were unclear and there was not much to go on, but the tension between the eldest son of the victim and his ex-wife were mounting and it was hard to believe that maybe this guy had nothing to do with it despite what was described as an ‘air-tight’ alibi. You read through the chapter twice, scribbling your thoughts in red pen along the margins.

“What do you think?” You jumped in your chair, looking up to see Ransom in the doorway.

“You scared the shit out of me,” Your hand still clutching your chest. He had a glass of water in his hand, chest bare, solid navy pajama pants slung low on his hips. His chest hair always got you, just a little bit. He tugged his bottom lip between his teeth and pushed off the door jam to walk into the room, taking a seat in the chair you occupied hours ago. “It’s good,” you cleared your throat, “I’m not sure how much longer I can wait for you to finish to be honest.” He chuckled softly.

“Let me see.” You handed him the packet and his eyes scanned the margins, reading your comments. They were mostly reactions, that’s what he liked. He wanted to know how you reacted to everything he put in front of you, did you like the romance, the tension, the lust he was trying to write between the ex-husband and wife? Or was it too distracting from the plot? Is the detective too unbelievable? He’s a character for sure. Can you figure out whodunnit yet?

“What are you doing out of bed?” You asked, spinning the chair side to side, waiting for him to put the packet down.

“I told you I was going to kick her out.” He took another sip from his water. You scoffed,

“And you couldn’t start doing this sooner?” A smile stretched his lips,

“I like how much it bothers you.”

“It’s annoying,” you said, “Worst way to start my day.” He laughed.

“That’s the only reason?” He asked, throwing the packet back on the desk, leaning back in his chair. Smirking.

“You’re such an asshole, you know that?” You pushed back from the desk, moving to exit the room. He quickly grabbed your wrist, tugging you over to his side where he looked up at you,

“If you wanna take their place, just let me know.” Your other hand came up to smack him on his shoulder, causing him to laugh as he released you, letting you take your exit.

“Dick.”

You found him the next morning at his desk, looking as though he had very little sleep. “Babe could you get me some coffee?” You yawned in the doorway,

“Sure.” It didn’t take long before you were setting the cup in front of him. “Your therapist is coming by at one.” He nodded, not looking up from his computer. “I’ll come get you when it’s time for you to get ready.”

He was focused. You weren’t sure where this focus came from. It was every once in a while that he would find this stroke of inspiration and write for a whole day straight. Hopefully he will be finished his book before schedule and be able to get ahead for the next one.

Soon he was washed, dressed, and ready for the one person he dreads the most. He hated therapy sessions. There were only ten more he needed to do before the court mandate was over. Ten more weeks until you were able to get this lovely ankle bracelet off when you would hopefully be able to go back to the routine you had with him before. Where you’d sleep in your own shitty apartment and show up to work a 9 to 9 five days a week.

After sessions he was always moody, quiet, and tended to need his favorite single malt restocked the next day. Not exactly in line with how he should be tending to whatever revelation the therapist has been streamlining him to, but that wasn’t any of your business. You could say though that during the last 42 weeks of sessions this refractory period was shortening to less and less time, maybe tonight you won't be peeling him off the floor of the study and dragging him up to his room drunk off his ass.

While in the session you were trying not to listen in on, you were sunk heavily on the living room couch, drinking coffee and reading the latest chapter he had slapped into your hands before entering back into his study. The book was so close to being finished, the last two chapters leading you to the big reveal and aftermath. The climax was steady taking hold and you were more sure than ever that the eldest son had something to do with it. You didn’t know what he did, but it was something.

He looked mad enough to kill as the Doctor left. Slamming the door, barely missing the Doctor’s jacket sleeve as he made his hasty retreat. Ransom stood seething for a moment by the front door, a chill running down your spine. He had murdered someone before, something you try to forget seeing as you are forced to spend so much time with him. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. It felt like an hour before he moved.

“I’m going out.” The words spoken sternly as he stomped his way up the stairs like a petulant child, returning moments later, cleaned up, eyes blank, before grabbing his coat and slamming the door loud enough to make you jump.

Aside from Ransom’s Mother never being around and aside from his Father’s string of extramarital affairs and aside from his Grandfather’s need to push him in every direction but close, you wish you could say that Ransom had a good childhood. But he didn’t. When he was little the kids picked on him for being rich, and when he was bigger they only became friends with him because he was rich. He was such a bully. At least, that’s what his Mother told you once drunk off chardonnay at his birthday dinner last year.

Disappointment.

That was a clear sentiment for the small family get together, and by small family get together you meant the dinner you cooked and Ransom looking like he’d rather be in prison than listen to his parents bicker over his Father’s new (Not so new seeing as he’d been caught kissing her by a PI before Harlan’s death) girlfriend. She was smart enough not to come.

This night was looking a lot like that one. Ransom, after his parents left and you began to tidy up, began to scream at you.

“What gave you the fucking right you dumb bitch?” He was spitting, face red as you cleared the dishes. “You’re only here for the money. The fucking money. How much is she paying you huh?” The bottle of expensive whiskey he had been drinking throughout the night was in his hand, swinging it around and taking pulls straight from the bottle. “Not enough obviously because you would have let me fuck you a long time ago.”

Your face flushed red as your own anger began to rise. He continued, “Never, ever, fucking again will you allow my parents in this house, do you understand me?” His unoccupied hand grabbed your arm tight enough to bruise, turning you to face him. His eyes wild and unfocused. “I said do you understand me?” You not so gently wretched your arm from his.

“Don’t touch me.” He always fucking did this. Blamed you for things you had no control over. Lynda approached you about a dinner for Ransom’s birthday. It was her name in your paystubs. You can’t say no.

“How dare you-” He began, but was cut short.

“No Ransom. No.” Like scolding a fucking dog who put his paws on the table. You threw the bowl you currently had in your hands into the sink, turning to fully face him. “I am only here for the money and I am only here because your Mother pays me a lot to be here.” His jaw clenched. “But I’m also here because I’m the only fucking person who even remotely cares about your ungrateful prissy spoiled ass and if it wasn’t for me you’d be sitting in this fucking glass house, alone, with only your own self-righteous attitude to keep you company. So don’t you ever touch me like that again. Do you understand?”

He loudly clunked the bottle onto the kitchen island, stumbling in your direction as you backed yourself into the sink. His trial had just concluded two weeks ago, Fran’s murder fresh on your mind and you wondered if you just made a terrible mistake. Over the course of this rant, the alcohol was sinking into his bloodstream, it turned his anger into a crippling depression. One that resulted in his hands softly grasping your shoulders, and tugging you into his body. His face found your neck and slowly started to grow damp with what you realized were his tears.

Your heart broke a bit, too much empathy, even for this asshole. Your arms came to wrap around his shoulders, letting him cry it out.

That was the first and only time you saw Ransom cry over anything. If he hadn’t been as drunk as he was you knew that moment would never have happened. The sweet little moment that made your heart ache was quickly gone the next morning when Ransom made you coffee and thought it would be hilarious that after you thanked him for being so sweet he joked that he poisoned it. You could still recall the cackles of laughter as you spit your coffee into the sink.

That was the day he began writing his first novel.

He came home alone tonight which was strange. And far earlier than normal. You usually were in bed, or holed up in his study by the time he arrived him after a night out. Staying out of his way as he drug a bubbly hopeful girl up to his bed to satisfy his own needs for the night. He found you tonight, sitting outside, watching Netflix on your tablet by the firepit you had decided to light, a hot cup of tea sitting on the end table next to you. Cozy and wrapped in a blanket.

You could feel his eyes on you from the doorway. You tapped the screen, pausing your show and turned to look at him. His hair was slightly mussed, face flushed, and socked toes curling from the chill. He was looking at you strangely.

“You’re home early.” You placed the tablet down on the end table, turning to face him. He nodded, crossing his arms and leaning against the door jam.

“I just needed a drive.” There was a soft smile on his face, well that’s new.

“Is everything okay?” He never tells you anything, but the sentiment matters. He looked to his feet, nodding.

“I’m probably going to try to stay up and finish the book tonight.” He shifted himself back into the house, your voice calling out to him,

“Come sit out here for a bit. It’s calming, just take a break from thinking for a minute.” He sighed and looked at you again, debating something in his head.

“I need to be alone.” You tried anyway. He disappeared from sight. And that was that.

The next day Ransom began acting even more strangely. The book was finished, the last two chapters handed wordlessly to you as he left for the gym on what you’re assuming was no sleep. That wasn’t the strange part. The strange part was when he returned three hours later bearing a box of donuts from your favorite bakery and two lattes, on his face was a smile.

“What did you do?” You accused, “Did you poison this?” You gestured towards the latte he placed in your hand.

“No.” He laughed, sliding the box of donuts to you. You stared at him skeptically before taking a sip. Tastes normal.

“Are you sick?” Your wrist coming to lay across his forehead, temperature feels fine.

“No.” He laughed again, pulling your wrist from his forehead and kissing your palm before opening the box of donuts, pulling a cinnamon sugar donut to his lips. “You just told me the other day how you missed these and I figured since I passed the shop on the way back it wouldn’t hurt to go pick some up.” It was suspicious. You continued to look at him skeptically. He sighed, placing the donut on the counter, grabbing the latte from your hand he took a large sip of it. “I didn’t fucking poison you Y/N.”

Okay.

Okay. You examined the box of donuts, pulling out the bear claw that was begging to be eaten. Still warm. You moaned in delight as soon as the warm pastry hit your taste buds. You really had missed these. Opening your eyes, you saw Ransom staring blankly at you before his eyes shifted to the packet by your side.

“All finished?” You swallowed and nodded, sliding the packet marked with red over to him and as he began to study your notes you tried to think about what could have possibly gotten him in such a good mood. The Doctor’s visit was odd enough. Yes he was angry when the Doctor left, but then just a drive? Not a blackout drunk, bringing two girls home to pleasure himself with and accidentally falling into a line or two of coke night, but a drive?

Maybe therapy had been working? Maybe he had a breakthrough? He finished the novel. The eldest son had something to do with it, his airtight alibi just that, a cover for the crime having been committed at a different time than the coroner’s estimated time frame due to him freezing the body and allowing it to thaw in the house.

You had asked Harlan how he came up with such incredible stories once. He said they just popped into his head fully formed, his brain moving faster than his fingers. He kept a little notebook with good ideas and would simmer in them as long as it took for a stroke of inspiration. The rest was just typing.

He smirked at some of your comments, ‘what a fucking joke’ you wrote next to the eldest son’s monologue about being passed over, his whining, annoying, self centered crying about how life wasn’t fair.

“What’s the smirk for?” You asked, removing the lid of your latte and dipping part of the bear claw in it.

“The lack of sympathy for Greg.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes.

“He’s a fucking loser.” Ransom’s eyes met yours, “I bet you see a lot of yourself in him.” That made him laugh.

“What? You don’t like spoiled rich men?” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms in front of his chest. You rolled your eyes, taking another sip from the milky sweet latte you didn’t know would feel like your life’s blood right now.

“I think you know the answer to that.”

“I think you find me endearing.” Ransom smirked. Your neck flushed.

“I find you annoying,” You admitted. “I only put up with you because of my paycheck.” He licked his lips.

“Sure,” He closed the packet, pushing it aside to take another bite of the donut, cinnamon sugar dusting his lips. “You put up with me because you’re secretly in love with me, but you know that I would never get with The Help.” This made you laugh.

“If you want me to be the Help I’ll gladly call you Hugh if it means you leave me alone.” He placed his paper cup on the counter, circling around to you.

“I like when you call me Hugh.” His hands came to rest on your upper arms, grinning.

“You’re disgusting.” He laughed at the clear displeasure on your face, spinning your stool around to him, and you leaned back, creating some distance as he came to stand between your legs.

“You don’t mean that do you baby?” His fingers toying with the ends of your hair. You could feel your nipples harden in excitement, body betraying you. A wet growing between your legs.

“Ransom what are you doing?” You said in exasperation. You weren’t blind. Ransom was gorgeous. You’d maybe, possibly, gotten off to the thought of him once or twice or maybe more than that in the four years you’ve known him. But he was also a scumbag who fucks and then throws girls out hours later. His moods were hot and cold. He had major Mommy issues and he’s not technically guilty of murder, but he’s a fucking murderer. But also… he’s been going to therapy and after that fight on his birthday last year he’s never laid a hand on you in anger again, there’s been some arguments sure, but he’s mostly nice to you. Caring even.

“Why don’t you love me Y/N?” His voice almost came out as a whine. He was playing with you.

“Ransom stop.” You pushed him away gently. He was fucking smirking.

“Usually there’s a ‘don’t’ in front of that.” Cocky bastard.

“You’re the worst person I know. And I hate that fucking smirk.” You picked at your now cold bear claw, trying to turn from him.

“Why don’t you wipe it off my face then?” Your eyes met his and you glared.

“What’s gotten into you today? Maybe you should go out early. Find some girl to satisfy whatever you’re going through right now.” His hands met your hips, spinning your stool back around to face him.

“What if I want you to satisfy whatever I’m going through right now.” His groin fit right up against your core and you could feel his throbbing heat between your legs. Fuck.

“Don’t make this mistake Ransom.” You placed one hand gently on his chest, attempting (but not really) to push him back. His forehead coming to rest against yours. “You don’t want this.”

“This is the only thing I’ve ever really wanted.” His breath mingled with yours, sweet, cinnamon and coffee.

“You’re not thinking straight.” His lips brushed against yours, tongue coming out to wet his lips, his eyes locked with yours. Why weren’t you pushing him away? Your breath hitched as his tongue accidentally grazed your bottom lip.

“The only clarity I’ve ever had in my life has been when I’m with you.”

His lips pressed heavily against yours, pushing you back against your bedroom door as his hand came to tangle in your hair. He was all consuming, body hot and heavy against yours. Your core was thrumming with want, moisture pooling in the crotch of your yoga pants. His hips were rolling into yours and you could feel the hard length of him against your belly. His lips quickly moved across your jaw to your neck and you could hear yourself moaning softly as he licked, sucked, and nibbled on the sensitive skin below your ear. Your hands clenching the soft material of the t-shirt by his hips, dipping your fingers slowly into the waistband of his shorts.

His lips parted from your neck, hand tilting your head back so he could look into your eyes before taking your mouth once more. His mouth moved down this time to the tops of your breasts, hands leaving to shift the thick wool cardigan off your shoulders and onto the floor before dropping the straps of your camisole and exposing them to the air, nipples already pebbled in excitement.

You hadn’t dated in a while, unable to because of your paid house arrest and before that the way Ransom had worked you to the bone picking up after him. And the touch from someone else always felt better than your own. His hands felt huge on you, protecting.

Your head met the door as he enveloped your right nipple in his mouth, rolling the sensitive bud on his tongue until he felt the left neglected, and switched, beginning to toy with your right nipple between his finger tips. Moans and heavy breaths were the only sounds in the hallway as Ransom made his way down your body, slipping your yoga pants and panties off your hips as he found his knees before you.

“Ransom-”

“Shhhhh,” He pressed his lips against your naval, working his way to your trembling core. His hand lifted your right thigh, draping it over his shoulder as his eyes focused in on your, what you knew must be soaking, wet pussy. His eyes met yours from his knees, your legs trembling with anticipation, eyes locked as his pink tongue came to meet your pussy for the first time, a shuddering breath being released from you urged him on further.

His thick fingers spread your lips open, exposing your clit to his gentle assault. A building pleasure in your core as his tongue began to skillfully work, pulling moans from your mouth. How was he so good at this? Experimenting with different strokes, different pressure, finding what you like.

“Just like that, oh my god.” He rolled his tongue against your clit, eyes finding yours once more, keeping pace. You could see the corner of his mouth pull up in a smirk as he began to work you up to climax. “You’re such a fucking asshole, I hate that fucking smirk.” Head hitting back against the door as he used his fingers to tease your opening. “Oh my god.” Your hips bucked against his face, causing him to use the arm currently wrapped around your thigh to splay open on your abdomen, holding your hips still. The wet noises and soft grunts from the man between your thighs only caused you to grow closer to your release.

“You taste so fucking good baby,” moaned between your thighs.

“Don’t fucking stop.” You scolded. So close. So fucking close. He obeyed, continuing his assault on your dripping pussy, fingers entering your tight channel to stroke against your sensitive walls. He buried his face further into your pussy, nose coming to rest in the soft curls there as he watched you come undone. Your moans escalating in volume as you felt your body tighten with pleasure, hips begging to buck against his face as he rode you through it. He continued to lick and suck on your clit until your hands found his head, pushing him away, legs shaking as you dropped against the door, knees coming to rest around his body.

That fucking smirk, “How was that?” He asked, face glistening with your cum.

“Fuck you Ransom.” And he fucking laughed the bastard. What a fucking dick. He brought his face back to yours, gently claiming your lips. The tang of your pussy ever present as you felt him consume you. Your heart was still racing as he picked you up from the floor, bringing you into his bedroom and ever so gently laying you down on the sheets you had just changed two hours ago.

His eyes were shifting between yours, a strange expression on his face.

“You can’t kick me out tomorrow Ransom,” Your breathing was heavy as he began to work at your neck, his hands going to remove his gym shorts. “I can’t leave.” He pressed his lips back to yours as you felt him rub the tip of his dick against your clit, your body shaking with over-stimulation. It felt so intimate. Before, his eyes on yours as he brought you over with his tongue and now as he slowly enters you, stretching your walls with his thick cock, eyes not breaking contact he sighs,

“I think you’re the only person I’ve ever loved.”

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #knives out #chris evans

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