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darsynia · 11 months ago

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Nothing says intimacy like that push-pull of knowing you should respond, but wanting to hide from the other person's deep knowledge of you if you don't carefully craft the hell out of your response or they'll KNOW.

Oh heck yes, the payoff of Lola loving Ransom, you can't run away without him noticing!! And, quintessential Ransom, solving problems by throwing money at them... it's possible Reader won't be upset at the idea of all that waste (most breakfast stuff is not good warmed back up), or the idea that she'd eat it all, OR the waste of money... all things someone who is married ought to know!

All you could do was sputter for a moment. “What– What are you talking about?! I’ve just been doing what you wanted!”

“How is this what I wanted?” he asked, his frustration shocking you.

GET HIM. You look obedient, Ransom. You ought to hate that, but instead I bet you've obscured the truth from yourself and blamed HER.

You’ve decided that I’m the villain here, right? I’m the bad guy in this story.

Oh I got some fucking CHILLS there. The whole argument is exactly what I would have expected from two people who haven't attempted to see each other's humanity. It's so, so easy to ignore Ransom's, because he's this prickly hedgehog of arrogance, and fuck those quills, man, I'm out, right? Oh my GOSH his self aware honesty in this is so glorious, and not in a come-uppance way. Fantastic.

He nodded slowly. “How ‘bout,” he said, “I’ll try to be less of an asshole if you try to let yourself be more of one?”

Prince and Princess Harming, everyone 💙

He finished what he was doing and closed the fridge, then closed some of the space between you. “What? No, fuck that. Listen, any excuse to not have to deal with Richard and Linda is welcome. I’m serious. Fuck them.”

Ahhahahaha. I fucking love the whole concept of not wanting to fall in love, falling in love anyway, then being stuck looking like you're doing what you were told, and how his particular recalcitrant personality will fuck that all up for everyone. I have a languishing WiP where Darcy Lewis ends up back in time with Howard Stark and realizes she's Tony's mom and does not necessarily want that. She needs to be persuaded, just like these two do. The inevitability and making things work out despite the WTF is really special to me.

More Than This 7

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x f!reader, Steve Rogers & f!reader

Word Count: ~3.9k

Summary: Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn.

Warnings: Angst, age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, explicit language, fighting, my own rampant abuse of italics and em dashes, non-stop continuous action (not the car chase kind, but like, the no section breaks kind), the slooowest burn - Warnings will be added as needed for subsequent parts. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: There's no going back now.

Permanent thanks, as always, to @paperweight91 who lets me talk her ear off about this and always has the best input.

I cannot wait to talk to you all about this one, so please leave me a comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think! And if you need to come scream at me, that's even better!

As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

You woke up to the sun streaming in through the windows. You rolled over and checked the time. It was after nine. You’d slept hard—the exhaustion of everything catching up with you. And yet you still hadn’t woken up feeling rested. You couldn’t remember the last time you did.

You grabbed your phone and groaned when you saw all the notifications. Texts, missed calls, two voicemails. All from Steve. He was freaking out.

Are you ok?

Did something happen?

Please call me

And a few more just like them. You were too tired to answer. You didn’t know how. Besides, it wasn’t like he hadn’t ignored your messages before. You grimaced at your own pettiness. You would answer him when you knew what to say.

As soon as Lola noticed you were awake, she hopped off your makeshift bed and ran to the door, scratching at it to be let out. You sighed. Of course, the safety of your isolation couldn’t last forever. The good news was that it was late enough that Ransom must be gone. You could put that off at least until the evening.

When you opened the door, Lola at your heels, you heard someone moving around downstairs. You hadn’t thought it was a Carol day, but you must’ve lost track. It wasn’t until you were halfway down the stairs that you saw Ransom puttering around in the kitchen, his back to you. Your stomach dropped. Shit shit shit. Why was he here? You contemplated running back into the gym, but as soon as she saw him, Lola darted out ahead of you and raced down the stairs so she could dance around at his feet. He crouched down to greet her. “Morning, Lola,” he rumbled, his voice still full of sleep. “D’you have a good night?” She hopped up and down, pawing at his leg.

You took a deep breath and gathered all of your courage. “She wants breakfast,” you said from your place on the stairs.

His head whipped up to you. He stood up awkwardly. “Oh, uh, where’s her food?”

You came down the rest of the stairs and passed in front of him into the kitchen. “I’ll do it,” you said as you went straight to the cabinet where you kept Lola’s meal supplies.

Once you had her fed and briefly let her out the back door, you noticed multiple bags of take-out on the island. “What’s all this?”

“Oh, uh,” Ransom rubbed the back of his neck as he stared at you. “I thought we should probably have breakfast. Together. And I didn’t really know what you like, so…” he shrugged.

You quickly took stock of the food. There were diner waffles, pastries from a bakery, eggs benedict from a fancy brunch place. “Thank you,” you said. “That’s nice.” You grabbed a danish from the pastry bag and sat down at the island. “I, uh–” you started then stopped, and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I freaked out last night. I, uh– I don’t know what happened. I– I was scared, I guess, by the–” you gestured to your stomach. “But um, I shouldn’t’ve– It won’t happen again, you know? I’m fine now. Everything’s fine.”

Ransom leaned against the counter, facing you, and closed his eyes. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, then looked you straight in the eyes and said, “I’m so fucking tired of that word.”

You set down your pastry and looked at him, confused. “What?”

“You’re always so fucking fine, aren’t you? I ask how your day was, it was fine. I ask how you feel about something, it’s fine. I ask what’s wrong when you’re clearly upset, and you say, ‘Oh nothing, everything’s fine.’ It’s fine! It’s fine! It’s fine! I can’t hear it one more time.”

All you could do was sputter for a moment. “What– What are you talking about?! I’ve just been doing what you wanted!”

“How is this what I wanted?” he asked, his frustration shocking you..

But then, your mind started to catch up a bit and you were suddenly filled with indignation. “You told me to pack light! You– You– You made it clear! I know you don’t want me here so I’m just– I’m just trying to do what you want! I'm staying out of your way!”

He laughed and the hollow sound was so startling. “This is you staying out of my way? You’re just this presence that’s always here! That makes me feel unwelcome in my own home!”

That had you standing up so quickly that it sent the stool you’d been on tumbling to the floor behind you. A frightened Lola scampered up the stairs, her collar tinkling sharply, but neither of you noticed.

“What?!” you shouted, “How could– I– This is your house! How could you ever feel unwelcome here? I’ve never felt welcome here for even a moment! I’m not even a guest here, I’m just this, this– I don’t know! I’m just this pest that you wish you could exterminate but you can’t. You don’t want me here and I feel it every single day.”

“Well, you’ve never told me that, have you?” He almost growled out. “I’m just supposed to know! I see you making this list in your head of everything I’m doing wrong, all the ways I’m disappointing you but you never say anything about any of it. But then when I don’t know how to fix any of it, because I don’t actually know what’s wrong, you resent me for it!” You started to open your mouth and he slammed a hand down on the island between you. “Don’t deny it. I can see it whenever you look at me. You’ve decided that I’m the villain here, right? I’m the bad guy in this story. And I don’t–” He moved his hands to his hips and looked away from you, shaking his head. “I have no idea who you are,” he said, quieter now but no less forceful. “You don’t want me to. You have me just grasping at straws and– But you’ve just decided, huh? That you know exactly who I am.”

All you could do for a full fifteen seconds was just gape at him. He looked tired suddenly. Sad, as if that made any sense at all with anything that had happened. But then you remembered everything that had happened and your anger came flooding back. “Yes, I know who you are. Of course, I do! Because you showed me! It’s like you’ve completely forgotten how we met. Or our wedding!” A tear fell down your cheek and you knew more were about to follow, ready to tip over your lashes. You wanted to wipe them away, but you also just couldn’t take the time to stop right now. “You were awful! Really fucking awful. Right from the beginning you were so cruel and– and now– No! I– How can you expect me to come to you with anything when you all but told me not to during that first dinner?! When you told me you didn’t want me taking up any space here? Or that you would get rid of Lola?! Of course I don’t talk to you! What am I supposed to talk to you about when you terrify me? When everything I have comes from you and you don’t give me anything? When you hold all of the power?!”

“What fucking power?” Ransom shouted, throwing his arms wide. “If I had any power at all, neither of us would be in this mess!”

“It’s still more than I have! I have nothing! You’re the heir. You matter to people. I’ve only ever been a bargaining chip. And now that they’ve made the deal, no one gives a shit what happens to me. You could do anything to me, and they wouldn’t care! Even my mom–” You cut yourself off, tears choking your voice.

There was a beat of silence, and then, “Even your mom what?” Ransom asked, his voice rough. He was staring at you like the next words out of your mouth would be the most important ever spoken.

And it was only because you felt it too, everything riding on this, that you managed to say, your voice so small and your eyes downcast, “She only ever asks if I’m making you happy.”

When he didn’t say anything to that, you looked back up to find him staring at you, his eyes incredibly serious. But not angry, something– something else. Finally, he sighed and, putting both elbows on the island, said, “I’m really fucking miserable. How ‘bout you?”

You would try to examine it later, the way your instinct in that moment was to apologize or try to downplay your own feelings, your mom’s voice in your head no matter how much you hated it, but instead you took a deep breath and said, “Yeah, I’m– I’ve been so unhappy.”

He nodded then scrubbed a hand over his face. “I think,” he said slowly. “I think we’ve both been acting like if we just ignore this hard enough we’ll wake up one day and this will be over and our lives will go back to normal. But now with the–,” he gestured to you. “We can’t keep doing that. We gotta– We have to figure out a way to live with this.”

“Yeah,” you said quietly, wrapping one arm around your stomach. You couldn’t help but look at him a little warily. Was this real? Did he mean it? “How do we do that?”

He chuckled ruefully. “I don’t know.”

You just looked at him for a moment before you were interrupted by your stomach growling loudly. “Sorry,” you said, awkwardly. “I didn’t eat much last night.”

“Right,” he said with a decisive nod, “breakfast.”

You each served yourselves from all the food he’d ordered. He righted the stool you knocked over and you both sat down to eat. You didn’t say anything, neither of you did. You figured he had just as much to think about as you did.

You couldn’t stop thinking about how he’d said he had no idea who you were. It’d been easy, maybe, to forget that this was something that had happened to both of you, when you were in his house, facing his family, working your way into his life. It’d never occurred to you, after that first meeting, that he might want to get to know you, might want to see past all the walls you’d put up to protect yourself. But you felt like they were fortified now. You weren’t sure how to take them down.

Even though you kept your focus on your food, you could tell he kept glancing at you. You felt his eyes on you every few minutes. Finally, as you both finished up your food, he cleared his throat. “I’m an asshole,” he said quietly. “I just am. I always have been. But uh, you didn’t– You didn’t deserve that at dinner. Or the wedding. Or when I yelled at you last night. It didn’t– I don’t think it occurred to me that you’d take me, what I said, seriously. I’m not used to people listening to me, not like that.”

You stared at your plate for a moment and tried to keep breathing. “I– Of course, I took you seriously. What else would I do? I didn’t know you and I was already so scared and– How was I supposed to know you didn’t mean it?” You could feel yourself starting to cry again and wiped furiously at your eyes.

He sighed heavily. “Yeah, I– I didn’t do a good job of understanding how hard this was for you. And I– I’ll try not to do that again.”

All you could do with that was nod.

“But uh– I need you to talk to me, tell me when something’s wrong. I can’t– I need you to talk to me. I’ll, uh, I won’t be mad or– I feel like the few times you’ve let yourself be upset, those are the only times I felt like I could actually see you. I want to be able to see you.”

You took a deep breath. “I’m uh,” you started, trying to find your words. “I’m used to having to put on a mask. It’s really hard for me to not do that.”

He nodded slowly. “How ‘bout,” he said, “I’ll try to be less of an asshole if you try to let yourself be more of one?”

You laughed. You couldn’t help it, it just bubbled out of you, to your own surprise. “Sure,” you smiled, “yeah. Deal.” You met his eyes and he looked proud of himself. There was something about the way he was looking at you that made you have to look away. You put all your attention into taking a last bite of your food.

“So,” he said, and he sounded serious again. “I think we should talk about last night.”

It took everything in you to not shrink down. You wanted to do anything else, but he was right. You needed to. So you nodded and waited for him to start.

“You said– Well. You said a lot of things. But let’s start with– You said I keep you trapped here.”

Your brow furrowed a little bit. “Well, yeah, you only have one car and you don’t have a driver. How am I supposed to go anywhere?”

The dawning realization on his face would have almost been comical if it had been about something that hadn’t caused you so much pain. “Oh my god,” he said. “I– Why didn’t you– No, right. Yeah.” He took out his phone and started typing. “I’ll figure something out. Do you drive?”

“Steve taught me, a little, when I was a teenager. But I’m not– I’m not super comfortable,” you shrugged.

“Ok,” he said typing a few more words, then put his phone down. He looked at you very seriously and said, “Now I need you to tell me exactly what you meant about siccing my mom on you.”

“Oh, well, just that she came over, you know, the next day after I told you I wanted to find a job.”

Ransom’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Here? She came here?”

“Well, yeah,” you said, not entirely sure what was happening. “She let herself in and said you’d talked to her about how I wanted to work and that you wanted me to focus on giving you a family. That that was my job now.”

Ransom’s face darkened in a way you’d never seen before. “Fucking–” he growled. “Goddamnit.” You watched him warily and when he made eye contact, you saw the way he worked to soften his expression. He shook his head. “I never said that. I just, I brought it up to her because she has connections, you know, in surprising places. I should have known. I was stupid. And when you didn’t bring it up again, I just, I assumed it hadn’t worked out and you didn’t want to talk about it.” He took a deep breath, clearly trying to make himself calm down. “Did she say anything else?”

You looked at him carefully. It was almost like he looked different today, something about him. It really did seem like he was trying. So you took a breath and decided to trust him. “She wasn’t very nice to me. She never is. She’s– She’s only ever been awful to me.”

“Yeah,” he said grimly, “that’s fucking Linda. Alright, she comes here again, I want you to tell me. Don’t even talk to her, just call me right away. She tries to call you, you tell me. She ever says anything to you, you tell me, ok?”

“Yeah,” you said, and you didn’t know how to guard yourself from the warmth that spread through you. “I’ll tell you.”

He nodded. “Good. And if you still want to get a job, I’ll help you, ok? I want to do that.”

“Yeah, I,” you sighed, “I don’t know. Everything’s really overwhelming right now.”

“I get that,” he said, “but if you change your mind, let me know.”

“I will,” you promised. Then, when he didn’t immediately bring up another topic from the night before, you raised one of your own. “Um, you never use your gym.” He looked at you, confused, and you shook your head at yourself. “Sorry, it’s just, you have all those rooms upstairs that you never use, and well, you and I,” you rested a hand on your belly, “we did what we needed to do, right? So, uh, I’m having my bedroom furniture shipped here and if it’s alright, I’d like to, uh, turn that room into my room.”

There was a long pause, long enough for you to get uncomfortable, start to worry that you’d messed up. His face was blank, you couldn’t find any clues there. Then, finally, he seemed to shake himself and said, “Yeah, sure, of course. I’ll, uh, I’ll have it cleared out for you.”

You breathed a sigh of relief. “Great! Thank you! I’m sure you’ll be happy to have your own space back.”

“Right, yeah,” he said and nodded several times. “Yeah.”

You both got quiet again after that, but it didn’t feel as oppressive as it often had before. Eventually, you began cleaning up breakfast together. As you moved around him in the kitchen to load the dishwasher, you paused. “Hey, uh, what’d you tell your parents? About last night, dinner?”

“Oh,” he said, turning to you from the fridge. “Just that I was suddenly violently ill and we couldn’t make it.”

That stopped you completely. You’d been bent over as you loaded plates, but now you stood up, giving him all of your attention. “Really? You didn’t– didn’t blame me? Or uh, tell them about–”

That was when everything really hit you, just how badly you'd misread so much of what had happened. Of all the pain you’d suffered over the past months, how much of it had been self-inflicted? Would everything have been so much easier, for both of you, if you’d just been willing to talk to him? For what felt like the thousandth time that morning, you felt your eyes beginning to well. You tried to turn your head away, but Ransom noticed before you could.

“Hey,” Ransom said quietly as he approached you cautiously, stopping right in front of you, his hands hovering in the air between you both. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

You shook your head. “I don’t know,” you said, your voice tight. “I don’t know. I just– Everything’s just been so hard.”

Ransom sighed, heavily. “Yeah. I know.”

“Um,” you let out a defeated, embarrassed little laugh as the tears began to fall down your face. “Do you think it’s too early to blame pregnancy hormones?” you asked, as you tried to make yourself stop crying.

Instead of dismissing it as a joke, Ransom looked at you very seriously. “I think that you can do whatever the fuck you want.”

There was something about that, the way it felt like acceptance, that made the tears come even harder.

It was then, of course, that your phone started vibrating on the counter, Steve’s ID flashing on the screen. “Oh,” you said, “um, shit.” You just stared at it, not quite able to pick it up. “I, uh, texted him last night. During everything. I’m sure he’s freaking out now.”

“Right,” Ransom nodded. “Well, I’ll give you some privacy.”

You were suddenly filled with the ridiculous need to not be alone right now. “Uh, yeah, thanks. But, uh, maybe, maybe don’t go far.” Your voice dropped out a little at the end of the sentence, embarrassed.

He looked at you carefully and you couldn’t imagine what he saw. A mess, probably. “Yeah,” he said, “of course. I’ll be just upstairs. Shout if you need me.”

Then he left and you took a deep breath. The call had gone to voicemail while you’d dithered, so you called Steve back, sure he’d try again anyway if you delayed any further.

He picked up immediately. “Oh thank god,” he breathed. “What’s going on? Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I just–” you began, trying to keep your voice strong. But of course, you couldn’t hide from Steve.

“Are you crying?” he asked gruffly. “Why are you crying?”

“I’m not, Steve,” you lied.

“Chipmunk,” he said, sadly, knowing how hard the childhood nickname would hit you. “What’s going on? What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

You closed your eyes as tightly as you could. “Nothing. It’s just–” You knew you had to tell him something but you had no idea where to start. You could tell him, you supposed, about– about the baby, but it felt impossible to say out loud. And you had no idea how he’d react. Or, rather you had a very good idea, and it was very, very bad. You didn’t have the energy for that. Or the strength and courage. Not now. Maybe not ever. But you couldn’t talk about what happened the night before and this morning without mentioning that part, so really, you couldn’t talk about anything. And you knew your brother. You knew how that would go over. “I’m tired. And I miss you.”

He was silent for several moments. When he finally spoke, all he said was, “I know something happened.”

“It didn’t Steve. Everything’s fine.”

“I know you’re lying to me. Why are you lying?” He was pleading now and you were too tired and hormonal for this.

“Steve,” you pleaded right back, your voice breaking just a little. “Can you please just believe me? Just this once?”

There was another long pause, and then, “Goddammit, I hate this. I can’t– I worry about you all the time. Every time I see a missed call or text from you, my stomach drops. But now you won’t talk to me. And I can’t help you. I don’t know what to do about any of it.”

“Steve,” you sighed. “I know you think you should always be able to fix everything, but there’s just nothing for you to fix this time, ok? Please?”

He just sighed and you both quietly sat on the phone together. You didn’t know what to say to him but couldn’t hang up. Finally, he broke the silence with “I really fucking miss you.”

You smiled just a little, even as you wiped the tears from your face. “I fucking miss you too. And I love you.”

“I love you too,” he said quietly. He sighed again. “Ok, I should go. But we’ll talk again soon. Take care of yourself.”

“Ok,” you said softly. “Bye.” You hung up and set your phone down then put your head in your hands and let yourself cry without trying to stop it. You didn’t notice anything happening around you until you felt a weight settle onto the couch beside you and suddenly your lap was full of Lola. Then a hand gingerly touched your back. When you didn’t move away, it started gently moving up and down. You couldn’t help but lean into it.

The strangest sensation came over you. You couldn’t explain it, but as you sat there on the couch, crying while Ransom rubbed your back, you somehow felt the best you had in months.

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#darsy twirls the fic #ransom drysdale x reader #this argument is so satisfying because no one is the villain despite Ransom's concerns to the contrary #there's this analogy where the couple starts as rose stems with the thorns facing each other #and they slowly work out how to live with each other such that the thorns turn outwards toward everyone else instead #this is what that feels like!

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