#jacob thrombey x sister!reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

trillian-anders · 4 years

Text

four christmases

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

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

word count: 16k

description: part 2 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. These are the four christmases you’ve spent with the thrombey/drysdale clan during your times of service.

a/n: this story is brought to you by season 4 of schitt’s creek and maybe 12 cups of coffee. it felt like it took forever to write, but i’m happy to bring it to you. this is the follow up for my other ransom one-shot ‘the assistant’. i hope you guys like it!

2018

What a fucking asshole.

“You have to be there, it’s your job.” Ransom huffed indignantly. You rolled your eyes from the passenger seat of his beamer, tablet open in your lap as you scrolled through your sister’s amazon wishlist.

“I have a family too Ransom. I can’t just abandon my own family on Christmas just because you can’t get along with yours.” His knuckles turned white against the gear shift. Nothing else mattered, only him it seemed, and his whining Mommy complex.

“You were hired to assist me,” Ransom pulled into the drive of his house, tires crunching on the gavel, “So assist.” What a fucking tool. He quickly exited the car not looking behind him to see if you were following into the house, but leaving the front door wide open with the expectation that you were coming right behind.

You had just hopped onto this assistant gig a few months ago. There you were minding your own business as fall began, working for a temp agency, when Linda Drysdale rang you up and asked you to come work for the family again. You had recently been tutoring one of the youngest of the clan, Meg, with her English coursework for her last school year. The pay was good and you were kind of let down when they opted not to keep you on after summer concluded.

Babysitting Ransom paid well, better than it had been to help Meg out, but was it really worth the price? Ransom was a fucking child. You cooked his meals, washed his laundry, and were forced to tail him as he went about whatever business he deemed worthy of his days. Just until 9 pm, that’s all you had to do. Twelve hours a day, five days a week. Off Sundays and Mondays.

It felt like too much and not worth the paycheck. Even if the trust-fund asshole spent his days flirting around from one party to the next. More often than not he found himself a body to bring home leaving you to get an uber back to his place just so you could get your car to go home, or worse yet having you sit awkwardly in the backseat of the car as whoever was in the passenger seat desperately tried to give him road head.

He loved it. You know he did. Eyes flitting to yours in the rear-view mirror as a girl ten years younger than him fumbled with his belt. A fucking smirk on his face. You wanted to punch him, but your sister’s private school tuition held you back.

You followed him into the house, one you had just spent the entire morning cleaning as Ransom slept off his hangover. The prick had dropped his coat on the floor adjacent to the coat hook, shoes haphazardly kicked off beside it, glaring at him as you picked them up while he drank orange juice straight from the carton.

“I’ll pay you time and a half if you come.” He bartered.

“You don’t pay me anything,” You scoffed. “Your Mom pays me.”

“Exactly.” He tossed the carton back in the fridge, coming around the counter to get closer to you. He dropped his voice in what he probably thought was a seductive whisper. The fire it lit in your core would lead you to believe that it actually was a seductive whisper and you just fucking hated him. “I’ll make it worth your while.” He drug a finger down your cheek softly. It only caused you to roll your eyes, batting his finger away and stripping yourself of your coat you turned back to him,

“I want triple.”

Your sister was going to be pissed, but she’ll survive once she realizes you were able to get her a new laptop for school. A compromise.

She cried.

The Thrombey’s were probably the worst people you’ve ever met in your entire life. Harlan was prideful, pompous. He cared about his family, to an extent. He created them after all, his monsters.

Linda was okay, but she was a lot like her father. She felt as though she was better than everyone else simply because she ‘built herself from the ground up’ yeah, if the ground was a million dollars gifted from Daddy. Her husband, Richard, was a glorified sugar baby, you were sure at one point he was a real estate broker, but Linda had the business, he just rode on her coattails.

Walt was a whiny bastard. He was meek. He walked around with a cane and you weren’t sure he even needed it. It could totally be a ploy to try and gain more sympathy from his father. His wife was a drunk, you couldn’t remember her name, but it didn’t matter because she wouldn’t talk to you anyway. You can’t talk if you always have your mouth wrapped around the lip of a martini glass. Their son, Jacob, was a little alt-right shit. Every comment that came out of his mouth was a dig on some less privileged 99% and if you didn’t need this job you’d shove his head in the toilet yourself.

That leads you to Joni and Meg. Joni and Ransom had both been given an allowance every month. That’s the way they were mostly the same. How they differed was that Joni was at least attempting to have some sort of entrepreneur business where she gained some income, but not enough to live the lifestyle she was accustomed to. She had Meg in this expensive ass private school that cost more than your salary a month and Meg found this group of liberal women and now she was becoming the extreme opposite of Jacob. They often bumped heads, with Meg slowly giving in. She always gave in. This was her family and as much as she wanted to fight for the 99% she never actually wanted to be one.

But it was fine.

It didn’t really matter.

You just wanted to go home.

Ransom hasn’t had an empty hand all day thanks to you. “If I’m ever without a drink,” He said on the way over, “You’re walking home.” So this is where you’re standing, with Marta and Fran, you sipping on a weak mimosa that Marta had compromised on, waiting for the day to be over.

Ransom’s eyes met yours from across the room, hand raising his glass, the last little mouthful swishing against its side. You sighed and rolled your eyes, turning to grab the decanter behind you, walking over to fill his glass. “So I told him to shove it up his ass,” Linda was telling Harlan a story, “If you think for one moment I would give in to anything less than market price you’re out of your mind.” Please love me, she was saying, please see that I’m the best child you have. Harlan’s eyes were dazed, not looking at hers. Thinking. He was always thinking.

The only time Ransom didn’t need you was when he disappeared into his Grandfather’s office. Presents were handed out just before, new iphones, apple watches, macbooks, cartier bracelets, rolexes, a couple of little bonus checks to their allowances, the spirit of Christmas was definitely lost on this family.

It doesn’t matter.

You had just filled Ransom’s glass before he entered the study and you knew he wouldn’t need you until some kind of argument broke out with his Grandfather and you had to be ready to leave the house at a moment’s notice.

“How’s it goin’ kid?” Richard always kind of made you uncomfortable. He seemed normal, but you were uncomfortable in a ‘this is a rich older white man who liked to corner you alone’ kind of way. For the most part he’s been harmless.

One time, this was early on when you first started to tutor Meg, he found you in a similar way. Alone, in the kitchen. This was one of the first times he had met you and he was sure to let you know, “You’ve got a really pretty face, you know that?” Ew. Thanks? He had gotten close, too close. “How’d a pretty girl like you end up as a tutor?” That’s worse. And cheesy. This looked like one of those times, except he’d been drinking since 8 am.

“I’m fine thanks.” You had been trying to find a minute of peace. There was always someone talking in this house, during ‘debates’ there were usually three or four. This was supposed to be a break. Ransom having been passed off to another wet nurse he could suck off of while you got some rest, and maybe sneak a couple of those expensive chocolate artisanal cookies for good measure. Richard grinned at you, not in the way Ransom would when he was fucking with you, but something more predatory. He was feeling ambitious.

“I just wanted to give you this,” He slipped an envelope across the counter to you, hand resting on it, waiting for you to take it. As your hand met the envelope, he did the fucking worst thing he could possibly do in this moment, and took your hand. Your heart was racing and you felt wildly uncomfortable. He held your hand, taking a step into your space, body crowding yours against the counter. You stared him down, please just let me go. Please just fucking let me go. “How’s my son treating you?” He asked. What exactly did he think you were doing for his son?

“Fine.” You swallowed harshly. Please just let me go. You could smell the whiskey on his breath, face coming closer to yours.

“If you ever need anything…” Closer and closer. You wished you could pull back completely, get out of this situation, but the vice grip he currently had on your hand was making it difficult.

“Y/N.” Your eyes snapped over to the doorway, Ransom. His jaw was clenched, face flushed from what you were sure was an argument with Harlan. “We’re leaving.” Richard turned and smiled at his son, releasing your hand. You quietly slipped the envelope into your jeans pocket, backing yourself away from him, and joining Ransom across the room where his eyes hadn’t yet left his father. It wasn’t until you made it to the front door, grabbing your coat from the coat rack did he stomp his way out of the house, digging his car keys from his pockets.

“Ransom I don’t think you should be driving-” You started, but he turned to you, eyes wild. This scared you.

“Get in the car.” He demanded. Fuck, he’s drunk.

“Ransom you’re drunk, you can’t drive right now.” His eyes looked behind you and you turned to look at his family, peeking out through the curtains to watch the show. He quickly grabbed your arm, tugging you to the passenger seat, wrenching the door open and shoving you in, slamming the door behind you to circle around to the drivers side. “Just let me drive.” You pleaded. He slammed his own car door, revving the engine and quickly whipping the car out of the driveway.

He wasn’t saying anything and Ransom always had something to say.

“Ransom-”

“Shut the fuck up.” His knuckles were white against the wheel, eyes staring straight ahead as he began gaining speed.

60 mph,

65 mph,

70…

“Slow down!” He was scaring you, these roads were winding and dark, his high beams only did so much and you weren’t sure how many deer you’d be seeing tonight. His foot was heavy on the accelerator.

“Ransom please!” You cried. His breathing was heavy. His eyes were moving wildly left to right as he moved the wheel to turn.

100

You were going to die. This was it, this was the end. The car hit the open road, the interstate, and to the left of the on ramp you had just flew through was a cop. Their lights started flashing, red and blue filling the car as Ransom kept accelerating. It wasn’t late at night, probably around nine or so. There were other cars here as Ransom kept gaining speed, swerving in and out of traffic. “You’ve got to pull over!” You yelled at him.

105

110

115

“Ransom for the love of god, fucking stop!” His eyes looked in the rearview, two cops now. It was then he began to slow down, moving over to the side of the road, your heart still racing in your chest. You relax your fingers which you didn’t even realize was gripping Ransom’s bicep in a steel grip. Both of you breathing heavily inside the car. It wasn’t until the cop heavily banged on the window that either of you even moved.

“Sir, I’m gonna have to ask you to step out of the vehicle.” A bright flashlight in your face as you dug around for his registration and insurance in the glove box. Exiting the car and circling to the trunk as Ransom was handing the four cops bills from his money clip. Why the fuck did Ransom have a money clip full of hundreds? Ransom’s eyes met yours as he stuffed his money clip back in his coat pocket before tossing you the keys which you caught awkwardly.

“Take me home.”

You looked over at the cops who were getting back in their squad cars before quietly getting in the driver's seat and shutting the door. Your heart was still pounding and as the adrenaline began wearing off you suddenly grew very tired.

“Drive.” You didn’t want to hear his voice. You never wanted to see his face again. You never even wanted to hear his name again.

“You’re the fucking worst.” You could feel yourself crying. That was the most terrifying experience you’ve ever had in your life.

“Well you’re fucking my father so,” He sunk down in his seat. “I think I have some competition.”

“I’m not fucking your father!” You exclaimed, hand hitting the steering wheel. You hear him scoff from the passenger seat.

“Not today since I walked in on you. Which is funny, you put on this whole show about not wanting to be around my family and what was it all for? A fucking ploy so I didn’t know.” Ransom didn’t fucking know how much of a goddamn idiot he was being right now.

As the gravel crunched beneath the tires of the beamer, your argument continued. “I’m not fucking your father, I’ve never fucked your father, and I never will fuck your father.” He wasn’t hearing you.

“Is this why Linda pays you so much?” He scoffed, exiting the car. He looked at you from over the roof and continued, “So you keep Richard out of her bed?” You hadn’t stopped crying. Still half going from fear and the other half from frustration. It was so goddamn cold out that the tears were freezing against your cheeks.

“Ransom, I am not fucking your father!” You yelled, “The reason she pays me what she does is because the exact fucking thing you’re doing right now.” He rolled his eyes, walking up to the front door of his house,

“Give me my keys.”

“No.” You were still standing by the car, keys fisted in your hand. “You’re being a fucking asshole right now.”

He clenched his fist, slamming it into the front door before turning back to you and yelling, “Give me my fucking keys Y/N.” You both looked at one another for a moment.

You took a deep breath. “I have nothing to do with your father Ransom. My only job is to wait on you like a fucking servant and that is what I get paid to do. Not be your fucking punching bag when your family turns out to be a bunch of dicks-”

“Give me-”

“I’m not finished!” You screamed. Tears were still streaming heavily down your face and Ransom stood five feet away from you awkwardly letting you continue. “I don’t deserve this Ransom. I really fucking don’t. You literally almost just fucking killed me. So you’re going to say you’re sorry, you’re going to go into your fucking house, you’re going to give me what you promised me for even having to deal with this shit tonight, and you’re going to give me the rest of the week off.”

It was silent for a moment. The two of you standing in the cold Massachusetts air in silence. Your face was starting to burn and as the silence stretched on you began to doubt everything you just said. Fuck this could cost you the job. The envelope Richard had handed you weighed heavily in your pocket. Hopefully it would be enough to hold you over until you could get back to the temp agency.

Ransom let out a breath he had been holding, turning fully to you, and walking down the two steps of his porch. You flinched back away from him, looking at his knuckles that were split and bleeding from punching the door. His eyes met yours and he looked like he was debating something.

“I’m sorry.” His words were soft and whispered, hand coming forward with an open palm, waiting for his keys. You gently gave them back to him. That soft, whispered, ‘I’m sorry’ stunned you. You didn’t expect your yelling to actually work. You expected to be fired. His keys jingled as he reached in his pocket and brought that money clip back out, extracting a bundle of hundreds and holding them out to you between two fingers. “Go home.”

That was never spoken of again. The thing with Richard in the kitchen, being pulled over on 95, the screaming match that ensued, and nothing was ever said about the solid gold, $6,500 cartier bracelet that was by no doubt wrapped at the store that was waiting for you when you arrived back at work five days later.

2019

“What did he do?” You were sweating. It was so fucking hot in here, but you were afraid to take off your coat. The fanfare in which the detectives had pulled up to your apartment complex was embarrassing, quickly bringing you down to the police station and shoving you in an interrogation room.

“What did who do?” The man who had introduced himself as Lieutenant Elliot asked you. Shit. What the fuck did Ransom do? The death of Harlan Thrombey was sudden, right after his birthday just two weeks ago. It was unsettling, the suicide. The funeral was uncomfortable to say the least. Ransom told you to go and then didn’t go himself so you stood there like some weird interloper on the tails of everyone’s grief.

You were going to throw up, you’ve never so much as gotten a speeding ticket but suddenly you had a kilo of coke on you and an unlicensed gun. “Where were you the night Harlan Thrombey committed suicide?” You picked at your fingernails.

“I was at the party,” Your throat was so dry, you were afraid to touch the glass of water they had set before you, “I always feel strange around the family so unless Ransom needs me I try to hide out in the kitchen.”

“You’re his assistant?” Elliot asked, “He doesn’t have a job, so what exactly do you assist with?”

“I’m pretty much his babysitter.” You explained, “I make sure he doesn’t get into too much trouble…” It’s ironic right? You bit your bottom lip. “Why am I here exactly?” The other man in the room, Wagner, spoke up,

“Hugh Drysdale has been arrested in the murder of Harlan Thrombey’s housekeeper.” Elliot gave him a dirty look.

“Fran’s dead?” The shock was evident on your face. You leaned back in the uncomfortable metal chair, discarding your coat and scarf and taking a large mouthful of water.

“You seemed surprisingly absent from Hugh’s side throughout the aftermath of Harlan’s suicide, why is that?” The third man spoke up from his spot sitting in the corner of the room, the thick southern accent was almost comical.

“Ransom gave me time off,” You recalled, voice trailing off as you finish your sentence, “He said I could go to my sister’s cello recital…” Did he really kill her? “Why would he kill Fran?” It made no sense. “I mean, he’s an asshole, but murder?”

They played a recording. Ransom in his own, self-righteous, pompous voice. Fuck me. What a fucking idiot. “So tell us where you were on the dates in question, spare no details.”

You had thought it strange, Ransom had left you stranded at the Thrombey house and you were forced to find your own way back to his house to get your car. It wasn’t at all strange that when you got to his house his car wasn’t there. You’d just assumed he’d gone out. It wasn’t uncommon for him to go out after finding arguments with his family. But the next day when he suggested that you take the week off, spend time with your sister, go to that recital you didn’t know he knew about, you checked his forehead with your wrist.

“Are you sick?” You had asked. He gently pushed your wrist off of his forehead, giving you a terse look.

“Harlan committed suicide last night, the funeral is tomorrow, but after that you should take some time. I need some time.” Your heart broke a bit. Yeah Ransom and Harlan butt heads all the time, but they were practically the same person so it made sense to you that they would fight. Both prideful assholes.

“I’m so sorry Ransom.” Should you hug him? You didn’t know. You two didn’t have any physical contact really. You’d never seen him hug anyone. So no, no hugs. “Is there anything I can do for you?” You opted to just gently lay your hand on his wrist. His eyes met yours for a moment, silence.

“Just come to the funeral.” With that he stood up and walked away.

That’s why it was so off-putting when the bastard didn’t even show up to the funeral and as you stood there with his sobbing family you figured next time you saw him you were going to spit in his coffee.

“I haven’t seen him since the day before the funeral.” You admitted to the officers. “He asked me to go, and didn’t even show up.”

“If we have any other questions we’ll let you know.” And you were released from questioning, but you had so many questions yourself. Arson? Fran? He attempted to murder Marta. Was this worth it? The fucking asshole never had to work for anything in his life, and even now as you stood in the courtroom waiting to see what bail would be set as so you could relay to Linda, you wanted to smack his pretty little face for being such a fucking idiot.

A bailiff read out the case number and in walked Ransom. You’d never seen him in any outfit that cost less than your rent and here the bastard was, walking in with a black and white striped jumpsuit, the county jail logo stamped in red on the back. You were the only person that showed up for him. Linda was half waiting for you to text her a dollar amount so she could pay his bail, the other half of her was debating on whether to leave him there or not. At least, that’s what she told you anyway.

You could only imagine what you looked like to him. Your eyes were puffy and red from just crying in the parking lot for an hour in between getting questioned and coming to his hearing. Before that the detectives had taken you practically from your bed. But you were here, in yoga pants and a sweatshirt, coat pulled over the ratty thing, and snow boots on your feet. It started snowing this morning.

His eyes caught yours as soon as he entered, but he quickly looked away. It was like a goddamn movie, his wrists cuffed to his waist, a chain leading down to the cuffs around his ankles.

Ransom Drysdale murdered someone.

A chill went down your spine, “Bail set at a million dollars.” And a gavel. Cameras clicking behind you. Thirty minutes later you were waiting for his release. You handed a dry cleaning bag with clothes to the officer at the front desk.

Ransom Drysdale murdered someone.

It wasn’t long before the secure, thick, metal door behind the metal detectors opened and Ransom was walking through it back to you. He wouldn’t meet your eyes, quickly circling to the desk to get his phone, wallet, and keys back. The garment bag was shoved back in your hands containing the clothes he was wearing when he was arrested, and then he was out the doors of the county jail, speed walking to your car. His was taken in as evidence.

You used your key fob to unlock the car, Ransom wordlessly climbing in the passenger seat and slamming the door behind him as you settled in the driver’s. This was uncomfortable. You drove in silence for a minute, awkwardly leaning over to turn on the radio. The song only played for a second before Ransom leaned over, smacking the button to turn it off again.

“Just say it.” He spat out at you. Your hands gripped the steering wheel tightly.

“Say what, Ransom?” You were scared of him now and he could tell. He breathed harshly through his nose. You could feel his eyes on you.

“Aren’t you going to ask me if I did it? Why I did it? Yell at me for being a fucking idiot?” He threw his hands up in frustration. There was a beat of silence more, “Say something.”

“I don’t know what to say!” You really didn’t. What do you even say? You’ve been cursing him for a while. In your head. Cursing him since you left the interrogation earlier. You didn’t know what any of this meant for your job, if you’ll be able to keep your sister in school, if you’ll be able to even afford the apartment you two live in right now. And all because Ransom wasn’t getting anymore fucking money from his Grandfather the fucking prick.

“Anything. Fucking say…” He leaned over in his seat, growing close to you. “Are you scared of me?” He smirked. Not in his, I’m playing with you and getting my way, smirk. And not in his, I’m making you weirdly uncomfortable and it really gets me off, smirk. But some sick sinister type of smirk that made your stomach roll.

“You fucking murdered someone Ransom.” You said between clenched teeth. He studied you for a minute before settling back in his seat. Silence took over until you made it to the front door of his house. Lawyers should be coming by in about an hour to start working on his case, his parents should be here soon as well seeing as they were backing all of this.

“You think I would hurt you?” Ransom asked as he stripped himself of his coat, purposefully letting it fall to the floor just so you’d have to pick it up. You left it there. He turned to look at you, still in the doorway of his house. “I killed Fran because I had to.” He spat. “It was for the bigger fucking picture. You want to be paid don’t you? You like having money right?”

“Your Mom pays me Ransom.” You stated calmly. His voice was escalating in volume as he continued.

“So fucking what? Who bought you that fucking coat, huh?” He was talking about the expensive wool coat you are currently wearing. He bought it for you after seeing that your old bubble coat had stuffing pouring out of the right pocket. You didn’t ask for it. “Who pays for your fucking phone, huh?” You had a month-by-month plan before. Ransom gifted you and your sister iphones sometime in the spring, saying that he needed to be able to reach you without having every call get dropped due to bad reception. Your sister’s was just because they were buy-one-get-one, or so he said. You didn’t ask for it. “And that fucking bracelet on your wrist too? Is my Mom buying you jewelry? Or just me and my fucking Dad?” He was still under the impression that something had gone on between you and his father apparently.

“That’s it! I’m done.” You yelled back at him. “I fucking quit.” You stripped the coat off your shoulders and tossed it on the floor beside his watching his mouth snap shut. You wiggled the bracelet off your wrist and threw that down on top of it before slipping your phone out of the side pocket of your yoga pants and throwing that on the pile. “I’ll mail Julia’s phone back to you.” You still hadn’t stepped foot inside the house, turning to walk back to your car when Ransom’s thundering footsteps could be heard behind you.

Fuck he was going to kill you.

It had continued to snow throughout the morning, the soft white stuff still falling heavily from the sky as you rushed to your car, you had to get away. You didn’t make it far before Ransom’s arms wrapped around your body from behind, tugging you tightly to his chest. You let out a loud scream before he covered your mouth with his hand.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He whispered quickly into your ear. “Please stop, I’m sorry.” His large body was bent over your back as you were crouched over trying to get him to release you, both of you breathing heavily as you settled against him. “Y/N I’m sorry.” He slowly started walking the two of you back toward the house, “I’m not gonna hurt you!” He shouted as you tried to bite his hand. He uncovered your mouth, arms loosening. “I’m not gonna hurt you,” He repeated a little more calmly.

He brought you back into the house, shutting the door softly behind him. You wanted to leave, eyes tearing up. What the fuck were you supposed to do now? Ransom stood for a moment with his back against the door before peeling the wet socks off of his feet. You hadn’t realized that he took his shoes off when he originally came in. His feet were bright red from the cold. You glanced to your left at the knife block there, slowly backing away.

“No, no, no, I’m not going to hurt you.” He sunk down to his knees. He looked like a fucking idiot, face flushed from the cold, kneeling in front of the door. He slowly made his way over to you, not rising from his knees, shuffling forward with his hands open and facing you. Your heart was racing as he stopped at your feet, slowly moving his arms to wrap around your waist, burying his face in your ratty old college sweatshirt.

He was hugging you. Actually hugging you, on his knees, face turned into your belly. You could have sworn he whispered, “Please don’t go.” But you couldn’t be sure.

A pot of coffee was made, coats picked up, and floor mopped before the lawyers and his parents arrived. The only evidence of your earlier fight was the absence of the cartier bracelet you refused to put back on. It sat heavily in Ransom’s pants pocket. Their discussion was loud in the living room and no one looked up as you lay the coffee and finger foods on the coffee table, Ransom’s cup unmade for him out of spite. As you turned to make your way back to the kitchen, Richard’s hand shot out to grab you harm, halting your movements,

“Grab me some Macallan for me, would you sweetheart?” Your eyes flit over to Ransom, who’s jaw twitched, sharing a look with you before looking back to his lawyers and mother.

This was none of your business, but you needed to know what your future was going to look like. Were you out of a job? If Ransom went to prison there would be no one to babysit. So yeah, you would be. He admitted on tape to arson and murder. Pre-meditated arson was minimum of 10 years, Murder was 30 years. He’s looking at at least 40 years in prison. He would be an old man before he was even allowed parole.

The group grew silent, or you couldn’t hear them as you started dinner for that evening. You were sure the four of them would be staying. “Y’N, would you come here please?” That was Linda.

You made your way over to the group, shuffling nervously in your wool socks. “Yes Mrs. Drysdale?” Linda smiled,

“It’s back to Thrombey now, but that’s another issue.” Hmmm. “If I was willing to pay you…. Say four times what you’re making now, would you take Ransom’s house arrest? That is, if we are able to work the judge down to that.”

“House arrest?” You looked to Ransom confused, he wasn’t meeting your eyes. “Murder and Arson-”

“The only proof they have is the recording, the only thing they’re going to be able to pin on Mr. Drysdale here would be the attempted murder of the nurse.” A chill went down your spine,

“You tried to kill Marta too?” You asked Ransom, incredulously. He didn’t respond, popping a cube of cheese into his mouth. His lawyers made you uncomfortable, they were definitely sleazy and you knew money could get you far in the justice system. If that recording was 75% of the evidence against Ransom and it was suddenly and accidentally destroyed, they would only have what was actually witnessed.

“Well, would you?” Linda asked again.

“I uhm… I have a sister who lives with me, I can’t just-”

“I’m sure there’s someone else who can take care of her. How long would it be for?” She looked to the lawyers, “Two or three years?” This was impossible. You couldn’t. Linda looked back at you. “How about this…” She leaned over and clasped your hands softly. “We will pay for your sister’s school, her housing, everything she needs while you’re doing this for us, and you’ll still get paid what I originally offered.”

“If Ransom gets house arrest?” You asked.

“Yes ‘if’.” She was selling it hard. Julia could stay with your aunt. She didn’t live far from where the two of you currently reside. The majority of your income went to her school, books, clothes, rent, and groceries. Having all of that taken care of would mean you’d be getting four times your current salary and not having to spend any of it. Just for a couple years.

“If Ransom gets house arrest,” you looked over at him, his eyes briefly meeting yours, studying you it felt like, “If he does, I will do what you need me to do. But I don’t even know how-” Linda’s hands quickly released yours.

“We will figure that out when the time comes,” Linda has a shit eating grin on her face, “Write up a contract.” Directed at the lawyers, “Now, how are we going to get our hands on that recording?” That’s it. You were dismissed until they needed you again.

“Why would you do that?” Ransom asked you. Everyone had left a little bit ago, you were busy washing the dishes, knowing as soon as this task was finished you’d be able to go home and this day from hell would be over.

“Do what?” There was a piece of cheese melted on the side of the casserole dish that wouldn’t fucking come off.

“Agree to take my punishment?” You paused in your scrubbing,

“That’s if they actually settle on house arrest.” You finally unwedged the cheese, rinsing off the casserole dish and placing it in the dishwasher.

“Hmpf.” Ransom had been cold and distant since he burrowed his head into your belly. Has to make up for his extreme weakness then. “But why?” He asked again.

You turned to him, eyes staring directly into his. You watched him fiddling with the gold bracelet you had taken off earlier, it was in his hand down by his side. “It’s what you said earlier right?” You scoffed, removing the rubber gloves from your hands and throwing them in the sink. You walked closer to him, not breaking eye contact. “Because I need the fucking money.”

The two of you didn’t talk for the rest of the weekend. Usually there was texting here and there, ‘Where are my grey socks, the ones I usually wear with the navy Ralph Lauren slacks?’ or ‘Next week when you meal prep for my weekend can you make me this?’ with a link to a recipe. ‘Pick me up a pack of magnums on your way in.’ Fuck you.

You got him regular Trojans.

Monday was Christmas luckily enough, and you knew you weren’t going in. Ransom didn’t even text you to see where you were. His account was rapidly depleting funds, you checked every once in a while.

234.72 ETRN-STD

523.50 DRNK

435.62 HAWTHNE

The list went on. Multiple spots a day over the weekend. That’s who he was going to be now, the old fucking white dude who sits at a bar all day hitting on girls uncomfortably too young. How many giggling 18 year olds would you kick out crying and screaming the next day? Disgusting.

“Do you have them?” Them meaning the cookies that were currently at the bottom of your reusable Aldi bag. Your sister, Julia, was off to your right, setting a pot with water on the stove to boil. It was Christmas, just the two of you, and with the aftermath of everything that was going on with the Thrombey/Drysdale clan, you were happy to get some time off to relax. You might even push it so that you wouldn’t have to work tomorrow. We’ll see if Ransom texts you.

“Of course I do.” This bag has been in your closet all weekend. There’s a bakery near your apartment that your Mom would take you to all the time, every time you got an A, won a game, gotten an award. Everything they made reminded you of her, and it was something you craved more than anything. Every Christmas they would make these fresh baked cookie packs with all kinds, chocolate chip, double chocolate chunk, snicker doodle, gingerbread, white chocolate macadamia, chocolate and peanut butter.

Every Christmas, after dinner, you and your sister would slouch in front of the TV with scalding hot cups of hot chocolate and devour almost the whole box. Every year except last year when at the time your sister was home alone watching The Grinch you were in a car with Ransom going over a hundred miles an hour and scared for your life. This Christmas, Ransom would not be getting between the two of you, food was cooking, lights in the living room were dimmed. The tree was all lit up and the presents you had exchanged earlier that morning sat unwrapped beneath it.

Christmas music was playing softly on the tv as you heard someone knock on your front door.

“Coming!” You yelled. It wasn’t uncommon for a neighbor to have forgotten something, sugar, butter, milk, that they needed for dinner. It wasn’t uncommon for you to answer your door without looking through the peephole. What was uncommon was Ransom Drysdale standing sheepishly on the other side. His cheeks, nose, and eyes were red. The cheeks and nose from the cold, the eyes probably from the alcohol you could smell on him. You sighed heavily, feeling a headache coming on, “What are you doing here?”

“Bar called me an uber and I didn’t want to go home.” He explained quickly, words slurring slightly.

“Your parents-”

“Fuck my parents!” He yelled, you quickly shushed him, looking down the halls to see if anyone was peeking out into the hallway. “Fuck my parents.” He said quietly.

“Ransom…” You sighed, stepping out into the hall, closing the door softly behind you. “What do you want?” His eyes were glazed, he shrugged dumbly, swaying forward. “Okay big guy,” I guess this is happening, “Come on.” You quietly ushered him inside, shutting the door softly behind you.

“Who is it? Oh, woah.” Julia’s eyes bugged out of her head, shifting over to you. ‘Murderer’ she mouthed.

“Go set the table.” You ushered Ransom over to the small table that could barely seat the two of you let alone a third, quickly brewing a pot of coffee and keeping an eye on your sister who was scared to get to close to him. “He’s harmless Julia.” You reassured her, or were you reassuring yourself so that you didn’t feel like such a bad guardian, letting a murderer into your home. He was past angry drunk Ransom, which is probably why the bar kicked him out, he was sad Ransom right now. You’d never seen him cry but this was probably the closest you were going to get to it. He was quiet, sat in the chair just staring as you and your sister finished dinner.

You poured him a cup of coffee and a glass of water, hoping to sober him up enough that you could safely send him home later on. The three of you sat down to eat. Ransom staring listlessly out the window. You made him a plate and told him to eat. And he did. You told him to finish his water. And he did. You told him to finish his coffee. And he did. This was almost terrifying. He hadn’t said anything since ‘fuck my parents’, and he looked dead on his feet.

“Send him home,” Your sister pleaded. The man hadn’t moved. Cleanup had already started and finished, he was still nursing the third glass of water you’d given him. Cookies were warming in the oven. His eyes were less glassy now. He was slowly sobering up. The large helping of mashed potatoes and three bread rolls he ate didn’t hurt either.

“He’s my boss, I can’t really kick him out.” You explained, “Let me get him sober enough that I know he’s okay and then he’ll go home.” She rolled her eyes at you, stirring the pot of hot chocolate on the stove, adding more chunks of chocolate to melt. Ransom, still unspeaking, didn’t protest when you moved him into the living room, setting him up in the recliner with his own cup of hot chocolate and three cookies, before snuggling down with your sister and watching How the Grinch Stole Christmas. You moved only once when he tapped the mug against your arm.

More.

“I’ve never done anything.” He said. “Never went to college, barely graduated high school.” He was rambling to himself, maybe to you? “I’ve spent the entirety of my adult years inside someone’s cunt.”

“Alright, Julia. Time for bed.” You ignored her whining protests. The movie wasn’t over yet. “Please?” You begged her. She hated Ransom. You knew this. She knows you know this. ‘All he does is take you from me.’ is what she once said to you. Just to treat you like shit.

“I have no money.” Ransom’s eyes met yours. “None.”

“I know Ransom.” He scoffed.

“I’m no better off than you now.”

“You still have your house. I’d say you are still better off.” You started cleaning up around him, letting the asshole sit in his self-pity.

“C’mere.” It was a quiet request. The Grinch was packing up his sleigh in the background. You dropped the two mugs you were holding onto the counter, circling back to the recliner. Ransom’s hand came out soft, wrapping around your forearm and gently guiding you to sit in his lap.

“Ransom, I don’t think this is appropriate.” You tried to pull away, heartbeat beginning to pick up. His still bloodshot eyes raised to meet yours.

“Please hold me.” Fuck. What were you supposed to do with that? Heart melting you sunk into his lap, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him in tight. It was quiet for a while. Sitting with the credits rolling, Ransom’s arms wrapped around your waist while yours were wrapped around his shoulders. Comforting him from whatever crisis he was currently going through.

“Marta ruined everything” He whispered into your neck.

“No Ransom, you did.”

2020

The trial, fuck me, the trial. The whole fucking family showed to watch Ransom crash and burn and get exactly what he deserved. Well that and to stare down Marta Cabrera who sat with the prosecution in some shiny new digs, a stunning gold cartier bracelet on her wrist. That was familiar. Ransom’s cheap bought apology. There was a tension there, you knew. He always had a thing for ‘the help’. You wondered if that’s where he had been this past week. But it’s strange isn’t it? This whole situation. It was unsettling and for some reason you felt irreversibly used.

“I knew the knife was a prop.” And that was that. Audio recording gone, attempted murder charge whittled down to aggravated assault. A slap on the wrist. Two years of house arrest. And here you were, in Ransom’s home with a fucking house arrest bracelet making your ankle itch. Unfucking believable. Ransom had sat in the courtroom, head raised, armani suit, legs crossed and body relaxed. He knew he was getting out of this from the minute he walked in.

The Thrombey trial that was supposedly going to last three months only lasted a week. You still had a job, and in a remarkable turn of events Linda Drysdale and their legal team got exactly what they predicted.

“I’m going out.” Was the first thing Ransom told you as you unpacked your clothes. He had half thought to buy you a bed and a small dresser that he haphazardly got someone to shove between his Pam Anderson Baywatch poster and the unplugged Space Invaders original arcade console. This was a 90s teenage boy’s dream bedroom. And now it was yours. He didn’t give you much time to respond and he was gone.

They say that you never really know someone until you live with them. And you’ve never felt that saying more true. Ransom was a fucking asshole.

During your previous employment schedule you would come in at 9 am with breakfast and let him know of anything he needed to do that day, if his Mom needed him for whatever reason, events his was scheduled to go to, dates he promised he’d keep. He’d let you know what to cancel and what he would get ready for, and then you were off. Cleaning and maintaining the home to the best of your ability, binge watching tv shows, trying new recipes from pinterest.

Ransom was disgusting.

Clothes discarded all over his floor, bedroom, living room, hallways. Beard trimmings all over the sink and what you would hopefully assume were more beard trimmings lining the bottom of his shower. You really didn’t want to think about Ransom’s pubic hair situation. He would do things like take his coffee mugs into his room or into the study and leave like a sip left in each one, letting it sit there until the milk began to curdle. Wet towels shoved into corners and every morning when you went in to make his bed it was like he was running in his sleep, loose and fitted scrunched in the corner of the foot board, duvet thrown off and pillows with half off shams.

He was doing this shit on purpose.

And you hated him for it.

It wasn’t long after the trial that he began a steady routine. Gym, breakfast, some puttering around the house, making plans and then he would go out. And that’s when we come to this,

“He said he would be back and we would have breakfast together.” The girl was pretty, but her voice was annoying.

“I’m one hundred percent sure he did not say that.” You stood with arms crossed in the doorway, watching her fix her face in the mirror propped against his bedroom wall. An old antique thing that didn’t match with the decor of the house at all.

“Hmpf.” She glared at you, “Fine, when he gets back, we’ll see who is right.” This was before you became practiced at this kind of thing.

You felt your phone buzz in the pocket of your jeans,

Is she gone yet?

Fucking prick.

“I’ll have him call you when he gets in,” You explained, “He has a lot to do today, I’m sure if he said you’ll go out for breakfast it’ll probably be another day.”

“I said.” She stepped up to you, “I’m staying.” Fuck. You rolled your eyes and walked past her into the room,

Not leaving, come deal with her yourself

He had been waiting down the street like a psycho, waiting to see her leave so he can come back home, but it’s not really working out in his favor. You could feel her eyes on you as you made the bed and picked his laundry up from the floor, tossing them two feet away into the laundry basket you left in his bathroom in hopes he would actually use it. The socks left discarded beside it was a clear message of disregard, a ‘fuck you’ from a petulant child.

You could hear the door slam downstairs. Great, you looked at the girl who was scrolling through her phone curled up in the reading chair in the corner of his room, he’s pissed. You could hear his stomping feet climb the stairs and the girl looked up from her phone hopeful towards the door.

“Alright, time to go.” He huffed, coming into view. The girl stood from the chair, shifting over towards him and trying to wrap her arms around his neck. “Nope. Let’s go, your uber is here.”

“But, I-” She began, you could see tears welling up in her eyes and you began to feel bad for her.

You were never one to have one night stands. You had one serious boyfriend when you were in college, but when your Mom got sick you had ended it and moved back home. You hadn’t dated or been with anyone else since. You just didn’t have the time. That being said, this girl honestly thought Ransom had a heart. She was naive and young, younger than you. Your heart hurt for her, but honestly, no one should be with Ransom anyway.

His birthday dinner had soon come and gone. Linda and Richard sat around the dinner table eating Ransom’s favorite foods you’d spent the day cooking for him. Drinking whiskey and wine, Ransom’s glass never empty. You’d had a few glasses yourself with the tapas style dinner you’d put together. A beautifully iced spice cake sitting on the counter with unlit candles for dessert.

This was the night that Ransom blew up on you for the last time. The night he cried into your neck, drunk and unstable. Clutching desperately at your body for comfort, burying himself against you all touch starved and needy. This was more intense than last Christmas where his dry eyed stare begged you to hold him in an uncommon moment of weakness.

He was so hard to read sometimes and you were never quite sure where you stood. You knew you really hated him sometimes, other times… not so much. The more you knew his parents, the more you understood why Ransom was an ungrateful shit to begin with. You almost couldn’t blame him for how he turned out.

Almost.

“Help me with this.” He stood in the doorway to the small office he never used. It was pretty much just for show. A large wooden ornate desk, his macbook, and a bookshelf full of books you know he probably never read. Including the ones penned by his own Grandfather.

There were beginnings here. Multi-colored post its lined the desk, laptop left on the seat of one of the chairs in the room.

“What is this?” You asked him, fingers plucking a post-it from the desk,

Crime of Passion?

He had been watching a lot of true crime documentaries lately. It didn’t help but creep you out. This man, a murderer, suddenly extremely into serial killers and murder itself.

“I’m going to write a book.” He explained. His face was in a grin, almost giddy.

“A book.” You looked at him incredulously. Your eyes drifted over to Harlan’s novels sitting stacked on another chair, spines finally cracked and pages thumbed through, sticky tabs stuck throughout the pages. You pointed to them, “A book?”

“Yeah,” He gestured around to the post-its, “What do you think?” It’ll keep him busy that’s for sure. You sighed, sticking the post-it back on the desk and looked at him. He was waiting, expectantly, why did he care what you thought about this?

“Is it gonna be about Fran?” You asked awkwardly, he scoffed,

“No, I’m gonna write books like my Grandfather wrote,” He plucked a post-it from the desk, showing you,

Wife murders husband?

“I’m gonna write a mystery novel.”

He was good. You couldn’t lie about that. And you wouldn’t. This was a strange thing. The routine changed. Gym, breakfast, writing, lunch, writing, dinner, and then he would go out. His mind was moving faster than his fingers could and you were left reading a new chapter or two every night. You’d once loved Harlan’s novels. Your Mother was obsessed with them. It was partially why you had even taken the job tutoring Meg in the first place, but you know what they say. Never meet your heroes.

Harlan was kind in some ways, funny, but proud. His pride is what eventually killed him you’ve found out. The medicine Ransom had switched wasn’t his cause of death, his refusal for help was.

Ransom was as good as he was, better even.

“He’s got a lot of me in him,” Harlan said to you once, “He could have everything I’ve ever had if he would pull his head out of his ass.”

This was promising.

You were honestly afraid when Ransom first said he would be writing a novel. What if he wasn’t a good writer? Could you really lie and try to support him even though it was absolute garbage? You supposed you would have to. You were relieved to find out that it was unnecessary.

He slipped a red pen into your hand when handing you this last chapter, the book almost finished. “I want to see how you react to everything,” He explained, the book was coming to the climax, you were a chapter away from the big reveal and the aftermath, his hands gently massaged your shoulders before he bent at the waist, wrapping his arms around you from behind as you sat on the sofa. “Do you like it?” His hot breath brushed against your ear, a tingle went down your spine.

“Ransom,” Your hand came up to lay over his forearm, brushing the skin with your thumb, “It’s amazing.” You could almost feel the grin that stretched across his face, he turned, pressing his face into your hair where you could swear he laid a soft kiss before releasing you.

“Of course it is,” Here we go, “I’m a fucking Thrombey.” His fucking smirk. That's what he left you with, returning to his office to pound out the last two chapters.

It was a process. The editing, printing, shipping off to multiple publishers. He got replies after a month.

Eager replies.

Whatever Ransom wanted, Ransom got. The lucky bastard stayed lucky.

“Look Babe.” Ransom dropped a heavy box on the table in front of you, “Look at this shit.” He grabs a knife from the block on the counter, slipping it under the packing tape to open the box revealing glossy black covers. He first fucking novel. There. Printed. A picture of a fireplace, chair facing it, empty. A blood soaked carpet. He picked one from the box, opening it. And there in the forward, the dedication, Harlan’s name…

...and yours.

“Don’t get all big headed about it kid.” He smirked. Your heart was racing in your chest.

“Why would you…” Your fingers gently traced the letters of your name, there in print, as it would be on every copy sold.

“Wouldn’t have been able to write it without you being chained to my house, only seems fair.” He shrugged. “We can call it even.” You scoffed,

“Dedicating your book to me hardly makes my doing your house arrest for you even Ransom.” He smirked again, flipping through the pages, seeing his words in bold print.

“I think it’s plenty fair,” Okay, now you wanted to smack him, “You live here for free, you eat here for free, and you get paid pretty well to do so.” His devilish eyes met yours over the top of the book he was still thumbing through. “If anything you’re still ahead because you’re the kept woman of a bestselling author.”

“A kept woman?” You dropped the book onto the table. “I’m not your fucking whore Ransom.”

“Not yet.” Audibly you made noise of protest, internally your core thrummed with heat.

“Never.” You packed up your tablet and the new book, attempting to walk around him to go sit out by the fire pit for a while. His large hand gently grabbed your upper arm, tugging you into his body, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, your arms trapped between you.

“Tell me you’re proud of me.” He whispered into your hair, his voice suddenly soft, heartbreaking.

“I am proud of you Ransom.” You shifted your belongings to your left hand, tugging your right from against his chest to wrap around his torso. “I’m very proud of you.”

Book published, royalties rolling in, Ransom was making his own money now. He was more cocky than ever. Proud. The, I-don’t-need-you-anymore-mom, attitude. But can you still pay my babysitter? The girls came more easily than ever before, not that they didn’t come easy before the bestseller.

Every. Night.

Sometimes two girls were leaving in the morning, gently ushered out the door with promises of a phone call and a, “I’ll let him know.” It made you feel dirty, betraying almost. Like you were supposed to be on these girl’s side instead of cleaning up after Ransom’s mess.

You could gag. The milky condoms, two of them, tossed haphazardly aside on the hardwood floor of Ransom’s bedroom. Disgusting. You could hear him laughing at you now.

“It could be you,” He says, “Just say the word.” If you weren’t so irritated with Ransom for this very thing your panties would be dripping with the thought.

He’s sitting at the kitchen island forking soft scrambled eggs into his mouth, cheesy with peppers and onions, the way he likes them, the way you made them, when you come downstairs. “You could at least throw the condoms in the fucking trash Ransom.” He looked up from his eggs to you, peeling off the latex gloves you’d just used, smirking.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Asshole.

“You’re disgusting.” You begin on the dishes, taking a sip of your now lukewarm coffee. You hear the stool scoot back against the floor, “That wasn’t an invitation.” You said, hearing his approach. His arms wrapped around your middle as you began to scrub. His head rested on your shoulder.

“You love me.” He slowly rocked your body side to side, “You love how disgusting I am.” You tried to shrug him off of you, but he held you tighter. Since last Christmas when you curled up in his lap and held him for two hours until he was sober enough to leave you he’d been slowly getting more and more affectionate with you. He was touch starved, hungry for it. The intimacy of holding and being held.

You didn’t picture Linda as much of a hugger.

The house was decorated. It was the least he could do for you really. This was the first Christmas since your Mother died that you and your sister wouldn’t be completing your tradition, but you tried not to think about it. Ransom humored you just after Thanksgiving, bringing home a fake Christmas tree, ornaments and lights. You’d ordered a couple of extras online and three stockings were on the mantle, Christmas lights lined the windows giving the house a warm glow.

“I’m sending everyone in my family a copy.” He told you, “a signed copy.” Of his book. Rubbing their noses in it. The book has firmly held the number one spot on the New York Times Bestseller List for weeks. Already over a million copies have been sold. Whether its due to the fame of the not-murder trial or Harlan’s legacy you couldn’t be sure, but even without those things the book was incredibly good.

Ransom could have made it on his own, a long time ago.

“You don’t think that’s a little crass?” He released you long enough for you to finish loading the dishwasher, watching you place the pod of soap and shut it like he didn’t realize that’s actually what you’re supposed to do.

“Fuck them,” He scoffed, “They’ve always hated me.”

“To be fair,” You turned to the soft sweater clad man leaning against the kitchen island, “You’re an asshole.”

He smirked, “Yeah, but that’s why I’m so charming.” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

It could almost be domestic. The way things were now. So different from before. Yeah Ransom was still bringing a new girl home almost every night and sure you could hear them fuck from your bed on the other side of the wall, but for the most part it was always just the two of you.

His parents never ventured out here much anymore, since his book was published he had a deadline for the next book that needed to be completed so he wrote almost every day now, sometimes for hours. You made his every meal, on the odd occasion you’d order out. Sometimes when he needed a break he would come sit on the sofa with you as you watched whatever show you were currently obsessed with. One time you walked in on him watching Love Island by himself and you hadn’t let him live it down yet, maybe not ever.

He grew soft, sweet almost. A kiss against your palm. Hugs from behind as you worked at the stove. A snuggle of feet under his thigh as you watched Miracle on 34th Street by a crackling fire. Wordlessly anticipating each others needs. It spoke to a high level of intimacy. Something you both chose to ignore.

It was nice.

He didn’t go out on Christmas Eve. Not only because his usual bar was closing earlier than normal because of the holiday, he assured you, but because he wanted to stay in. Snow was falling thick outside, a foot of it already blanketed on the ground. To tell the truth you didn’t want him to go out in this weather anyway. You knew he was willing to drive a little drunk and he didn’t exactly obey speed limits. It was safer here.

You were still reeling from the argument you had with your sister earlier in the night. You called her to see what she was doing, but she was at a friends house and wanted nothing to do with you. Since the house arrest you haven’t exactly been on speaking terms. She wasn’t Ransom’s biggest fan and didn’t really understand why you needed to do this. You could kind of blame it on yourself for her having no idea how much money you needed to keep her in school, her cello and lessons weren’t cheap and nor are the electronics she seemed so attached to. This two year sentence you were playing out for Ransom would put you in the green, far in the green, so far in the green that you were willing to put up with all his petty bullshit and be okay with your sister hating you if it meant your futures were secure.

After all this was over, you might just be able to go back to school.

“Are you hungry?” You removed your feet from their spot beneath his thigh, grabbing both of your now empty mugs, padding over to the kitchen. Your stomach had just begun to growl. The stew you had simmering on the stove was ready to eat.

“Yeah,” Ransom replied, not turning away from the television. Santa’s trial had just began. It was a strange thing, having him watch classic Christmas movies, soft in sweats and a comical christmas sweater you jokingly bought him. “I look good in anything.” He said. He wasn’t lying.

You poured two bowls full, bringing over a plate with some crusty bread he was kind enough to go out and grab for you earlier in the day. “Thank you,” He said softly as he took the bowl from your hands, eyes still not moving from the screen. He quickly spooned some into his mouth,

“It’s hot.” You said, his only reaction being trying to rapidly cool it in his mouth, his tongue probably burned. He gave you a glare, before resting the bowl on the coffee table. This could almost be a relationship. The two of you together. In this oddly domestic moment. He was the only man in your life right now, it wasn’t like you had many options for seeking others.

That’s why you would get so hot and bothered with him. And that’s the only reason.

He had never seen A Miracle on 34th Street before. You’d think with how old fashioned Harlan was he would have at least seen it once or twice, but then again, any time spent together as a family was always strained and argumentative.

Even when he was a kid though? He was the first grandchild. His mother was the first child of Harlan. You were sure when he was a child he was spoiled rotten, more toys than he could play with, never wanting for anything. But that wasn’t exactly true. The touch starved trust-fund baby didn’t get the one thing kids need the most, more than presents, toys, electronics. Real genuine love.

His Mother loved him to an extent. It’s why you were the one on house arrest instead of him, but she thought loving him meant giving him whatever he wants. When we all know that’s not what kids want. They want to be told no, given structure, rules. How many times have you gotten into arguments with your sister because you didn’t allow her to go roam the streets at night without supervision or give her money for some stupid thing she wouldn’t be even bothered with in two weeks?

But you could also see how no one really knows how to raise a child and you just try your best. Having Harlan for a Father couldn’t have been easy.

Under the tree that you’d decorated and in the stockings you’d hung were presents. Ransom had everything he’d ever wanted, but you couldn’t help but want him to have something to open tomorrow morning. Granted it wouldn’t be much, but it’s the thought that counts. In the fridge you already have most of what will go into tomorrow’s dinner made. Hopefully your sister thinks about your extended invitation and Ransom can go pick her up at some point tomorrow. You missed her, a lot. Your heart ached with wishes that she was here right now.

Ransom’s eyes had gotten shifty. The movie was coming to an end and his bowl was empty. “Did you want more?” You asked him, thinking that would be the cause of his shiftiness, maybe indecisive?

“No.” He cleared his throat, “I’m not going to be home for dinner tomorrow.” You weren’t sure you heard that properly.

“You’re not going to be home….” You started, picking his bowl up from the coffee table and standing, “For dinner on Christmas?”

He was scared to tell you, that’s cute. Your body was bristling with anger as you took the stew off the stove to cool before you could properly store it. He didn’t move from his spot on the couch.

“My Mother wants me to go to this dinner with-”

“So every other time your Mother wants you to do something it’s ‘fuck you’ and ‘eat shit’, but when we’ve already made plans for tomorrow and my sister-” You felt tears prickle in your eyes. “What the fuck Ransom?” His face was stoic from the couch.

“Why does it matter?” He asked, “I stayed home tonight!”

“And that makes up for it?” You stood at the kitchen counter, staring across the room at him. “I already started on dinner, Ransom. You couldn’t have maybe said something while I was prepping all of this?” You gestured to the fridge. He shrugged.

“I didn’t know that was all for tomorrow.” His face still betrayed no expression.

“She can come here,” You offered, “We can have dinner here.” His eyes shifted away from yours to watch the rolling credits.

“She doesn’t want to.” He stood from the couch, rounding towards the tree slowly, searching.

“Why not?” He was being shady about this, the whole situation was strange. “I already have all of this food prepared and I can’t pick up Julia myself… Ransom?”

“She doesn’t like being around you.” He stated honestly, he picked a box out among the presents under the tree, eyes meeting yours as he fumbled with it.

“What?” You get it. She’s technically your employer. But she’s never had any issue dropping in for dinner or putting you to work on some task for herself.

“Listen,” He came closer to where you still stood, your chest tightening. “Y/N, I hate my family-”

“Then why are you going to-”

“I have to do this.” His cheeks were flushed, you could tell he was uncomfortable. “My therapist… I don’t want to do this.” He slid the box across the counter top. “I don’t want to go, but I have to.”

“Is this supposed to make me feel better about it?” You scoffed, picking up the gold wrapped box. His mouth opened and then quickly shut without speaking. You sighed heavily, a headache coming on. “I’ve got nothing, Ransom. All I wanted to do tomorrow was spend some time with my family and if you’re not going to be around…”

“I know, I can maybe go pick your sister up in the morning?” He offered. Your eyes watery, staring at him. He doesn’t get it. Your heart was aching a bit.

“You’re such an asshole.” You spat, leaving the present still wrapped in front of you, thumbing the thick wrapping paper.

“I know.” He swallowed.

“What does your therapist want you to do?” You never talked about what went on in his therapy sessions. He was too closed off after them, drank too heavily, lashed out too easily. You’d let him slowly work through his refractory period and let him cozy up to you once he was feeling better.

Ransom felt awkward, you could feel it. He was uncomfortable.

“Why does this matter so much to you?” He asked. He was turning. He got too emotional. “It doesn’t matter what I have to do or where I have to do it. I said I would go pick Julia up, I’m giving you what you want.”

“Fine.” You were staring each other down. “I’ll let her know you’ll be there to get her around noon and then you can go have dinner with the people you hate.” He rolled his eyes,

“I don’t know what you think this is, Y/N.” He scoffed, “You still work for me, we’re not playing house here.”

“Then stop making me.” You spat back at him, both of you in a similar stance, hands gripping the edge of the stone counter top.

“I’m not making you do anything.” There was a rage growing in his eyes.

“You are, Ransom. I take care of you like you’re my own fucking child. I clean up all of your messes, I cook all of your fucking food, I do everything for you.”

“I don’t ask you to.”

“You don’t have to! You literally just expect it of me.” You yelled.

“Because it’s your job.” He laughed, throwing his hands into the air. “I have no loyalty to you Y/N. None.” Fine.

Fine.

You hated him. You fucking hated him. You were doing all of this for him. And you’ve never felt more dumb in your life. The house arrest bracelet on your ankle felt heavier than ever. It itches like mad.

“Fuck you Ransom.” You rounded the counter, moving towards the stairs when he grabbed your arm.

“Take the gift.” He slapped the box into your hand.

“I don’t want the fucking gift, Hugh.” He looked taken aback for a moment.

“Don’t call me that.” His hand fell from your arm, stepping closer to you.

“That’s what you want, right?” You asked, “You want me to do all of these things for you and take care of you and fucking hold you when you need comfort but when I’m fucking trying to make things easier for you, you’re all the sudden ‘I have no loyalty to you.”

“Wait a fucking minute,” He growled, “I take care of you too. Who the fuck buys all the shit you want on a fucking whim? You’re in the mood for curry, I get you curry. You make a comment about how you really want to decorate for Christmas and who fucking gets you everything you need to do that? You say that you really want to get into fucking knitting and who gets you all the fucking shit you need to fucking knit?”

“Buying me things doesn’t mean you care about me Ransom.” You shook the box in your hand for emphasis. “All I wanted to know is what your therapist wants you to do tomorrow, you can go have dinner with your Mother. It’s fine. I just wanted you to fucking open up to me.”

“I am open with you!” He yells, “You know more about me than anyone else in my fucking life, it’s hard for me okay? I can never escape you, you’re always fucking there. I don’t get to fucking-” He placed his hands on his hips, turning from you. He let out a heavy, slow breath. Calming himself down. “I don’t want to go tomorrow, trust me Y/N, I really don’t, but I have to.” His eyes met yours, softer this time.

You felt like some part of you was being irrational. This dinner might help his growth. Whatever milestone he was reaching with his therapist, this could be really good for him. But you also felt a little selfish, you wanted him here, with you. You felt more like his family than anyone else. Or at least, he felt more like your family and he should be here to spend Christmas with his family. You knew he felt at least somewhat the same, if the gifts addressed to Julia under the tree from him were anything to go by. You wanted him here, but he wasn’t yours.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, the tears that were once threatening to spill, now did. “It’s fine.” Your head was pounding. “It’s fine.”

“I know it’s not,” He said softly. “But we can maybe do presents and lunch before I go,” He gestured towards the tree. “I should be back in time for the Grinch.” You were shaking a bit as he approached you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you tightly against his body. “I’m sorry baby.” He was so warm, a little sweaty from arguing, but warm. “I’ll make it up to you.” A soft whisper into your hair.

The little gold box was soon opened, a new rose gold cartier bracelet slipped onto your wrist and Ransom left you and your sister the next day wearing the sweater you had so carefully knit for him.

2021

Your breath hitched in your throat, back arching, a loud moan breaking from your lungs. How was he so good at this? Ransom’s tongue was at work between your thighs, large hands cradling your hips, burying his face in your moist heat. You were so close to cumming. And he knew it.

“Oh god,” you moaned, bucking your hips into his face as you rode your orgasm until your body was too sensitive to continue, Ransom moving his attentions to press his lips sloppily against your thighs before making his way up your body.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he lamented as he pressed his lips to your flushed cheeks and panting mouth, parting your thighs fully around his hips to tease your opening with the blunt head of his cock. “So fucking beautiful.” He moaned into your open mouth as he breeches you.

He felt so fucking good. You’d never get over it, you were sure. Ransom was patient, biding his time. He wasn’t that guy who had to be as deep inside you as possible, chasing his orgasm by stabbing your cervix. Over time he mapped out the location of your g-spot, shifting his hips and cock to brush against the spot with every thrust, working you up and making your eyes roll back in your head.

Those girls screamed with good reason. Just as you did now. Gushing wet around him as you came for the second time, looking up wantonly into his flushed face, lips swollen from first kissing and then pulling you apart with his tongue. Your fingers curled in his chest hair as he picked up pace, chasing his own release now, your hips lifting off the bed to aid him.

“So fucking good baby,” His eyes screwed shut as he moans, arms trembling, “You fuck me so good baby.” He sat back on his haunches, pulling your hips roughly to his, your sensitive clit grinding against his pubic bone almost bringing you over again as he cums. Hips stuttering into yours as you feel him empty himself into you.

His head tilted towards the ceiling, eyes dropping to find you, hands still gripping your hips and as much of your ass as he can manage. “I love you.”

It never gets old.

He said those words to you ever chance he got. It was as if he was trying to make up for a lifetime without it. Love.

Early morning sleepy soft kisses, I love you.

Silent breakfast with your feet in his lap, I love you.

Scratching his back as you peered over his shoulder while he was writing, I love you.

Feet stuffed under his thigh watching Outlander and drinking hot tea, I love you.

Buried deep inside you, panting mouths a breath apart, bodies flushed and sweaty, sheets damp with cum, I love you.

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

It was intense. His love for you.

He tried hard. He didn’t know how it was supposed to work. A real relationship, a real honest to god loving relationship. But he was trying.

The first few months of the relationship you gained a lot of new jewelry, a new iPad, clothes, shoes. “You don’t have to buy me things to prove that you love me, Ransom.”

Then came flowers and lots of them. Sometimes just one, sometimes a bouquet. Regardless there were multiple vases that stayed filled throughout the house, always with fresh flowers never given time to fully wilt.

After that was the touching. Always some sort of physical contact. Whether you were cuddling on the couch or a blink away from sleep with his ankle wrapped around yours, if you were in a room together there was always some sort of contact.

Your house arrest bracelet was removed, and a gold anklet replaced it. You were free to leave, live on your own. Move out and back into that shitty apartment with your sister, but this was early days in the newfound relationship with Ransom.

He’d bought you a house.

He’s paying for your sisters school.

He’s paying you to still work for him.

It was a Victorian. The house. Not at all like his contemporary cube he knew you despised. A rich dark brown with a large porch. Much too big for just you and your sister, so 6 months after the two of you moved in, Ransom sold his house and moved in too.

Julia was warming up to him. At first she wasn’t a fan. It took a long time, many dinners with Ransom, ‘family outings’, you hoped she could see the way he treated you now. The way he’s kind of always treated you. Her love was easily bought with the new house, her latest generation iPhone and the fact that she now had a monthly allowance. It didn’t stop you from making her get an after school job at the school library though.

Now with a house of your own, you were doing something you’d always dreamed of. Watching Ransom try to hang Christmas lights.

“I’ll just pay someone to do it,” He offered, looking skeptically at the boxes you had placed on the dining room table, “I’m not going up there to do it.”

But there he was, up there doing it while you looked up at him from the bottom of the ladder. “This is the fucking worst.” He exclaimed, taking the light clips and attaching them to the roof. “Why are we doing this?”

“Because you love me and you want to make me happy.” You laughed. He rolled his eyes, squinting against the sun.

“I’m not so sure,” He attached a few more clips within reach before steadily climbing down the ladder. “I think you’re trying to kill me.”

“I’m the beneficiary on your life insurance right?” You jokingly asked as his feet hit the ground. He laughed at your bad joke,

“I think that’s in pretty poor taste, but…” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, “Yes.”

“Julia should be home soon and then we can decorate the tree,” You wrapped your arms around his middle, capturing his lips with your own, “And make some cookies,” You kissed him again,

“And have a drink.” He smirked against your lips.

“You have a therapy appointment today,” You walked over to the steps, “You’re not having anything to drink.” He rolled his eyes at you once more, shooing you into the house as he re-positioned the ladder to go back up and finish stringing the lights.

You had to be proud of him. Court mandated therapy ended when your house arrest did, but he still went every week. At first it was due to a little pushing by you, but eventually he made the appointments on his own. He was getting better. Still a dick, but that was his nature. He wasn’t quick to anger anymore, his emotions took a more level head. And he was now publishing books twice a year. He’s got five books out now, and almost 100 million copies sold. Which is incredible.

You started back to school, Ransom wanting to start his own publishing company, “I’m paying for you to go to business school as an investment in our future.” He claimed. Once you were done with school your job would be to then help him open his own publishing company where you’d overlook everything. A daunting task, but it was hard not to believe in yourself when Ransom made himself your own personal cheerleader. “You’re brilliant,” He would say, “You’re so smart, you’ve just been dealt a bad hand until now.”

And now he was stacking that hand to the best of his ability.

Finals had been last week and you still marveled at the fact that as you poured over your last assignments and studying, Ransom would make you coffee and massage your shoulders whereas you would usually do the same for him as he was finishing a book.

You’d gone to a couple therapy sessions with him, the first time he’d invited you was strange and you didn’t know what would even be discussed, but as you sat in the session and he was finally completely bare to you, you couldn’t help but feel like it was his idea and not his therapist’s.

That session changed the dynamic between the two of you for sure.

After the dam broke, the two of you having sex for the first time and Ransom’s admission of love it wasn’t easy. He was still an asshole and as someone who had never been in a relationship before, this first real relationship, he didn’t really know how to behave.

You had one session a month together and it was probably one of the best ideas Ransom ever had.

He was a little sullen when he came home later that night, coming to curl himself around you as you placed the cookies you and Julia had baked earlier into the decorative metal tins you had just bought.

Sometimes it was like this, sadness. His lips gently pressing themselves against your cheek, his body tightly pressed against yours trying to pull as much comfort as he possibly could. “I don’t want to talk about it,” He whispered softly, “Not yet.”

“Okay.” You knew what he needed and what he needed was a little bit of time. You offered him a cookie, chocolate and peanut butter, still warm. He took it gently from your fingers, pulling away to go to his study, but not before pulling you into a soft lingering kiss. An apology for what you knew would be a distant night. A ‘I don’t know when I’ll be coming to bed’ night. You were sure you’d have three new chapters to go over in the morning.

You loved the snow. Almost a foot of it had fallen overnight, frosting the windows and giving your home a beautiful Christmas glow. It made your home feel cozy and well slept as you stretched your limbs out, hand coming to run across Ransom’s back. So he did come to bed after all. You rolled over to face him, laying on his belly, arms folded under his pillow facing you.

God he is beautiful.

You hated it about him. So handsome. You brushed his fallen hair out of his face, pressing a kiss to his scrunched brow. He was letting his beard grow out for the winter. It made him even more attractive, the bastard.

Julia was just getting up for school, standing in the kitchen in her uniform, eating toast and facetiming a friend. She was in a carpool, this house you lived in, while comfortably distanced from others, was in a neighborhood of other kids that went to her same school. Something you’re sure Ransom took into account when buying this house in the first place. You drove the kids to school on Friday when you didn’t have any classes. Today was a different parent’s turn.

“Can I take some of these to school?” She asked, picking up a tin of cookies.

“Yeah, but take the red one.” You popped a k-cup into the keurig. “Those haven’t touched any nuts.”

“Mila’s Mom said we can go to the mall after school to go get presents for the pollyanna our class is having, is that okay?” She was such a good kid. Getting older now, she was almost ready to learn how to drive, something you’d been dreading, but for whatever reason Ransom was really looking forward to.

“You have money still?” You asked, preparing a second cup of coffee for the sleeping bear upstairs.

“I mean,” She smirked, “Unless you want to give me more…?” You rolled your eyes, turning towards your younger sibling.

“What time will you be home?” The car had just pulled up outside, horn letting out a quick ‘honk’ to let her know they were here.

Julia shrugged, hugging you, “We might get dinner, but probably no later than 8. I’ll text you.” She shrugged her coat on, opening the front door as you called behind her,

“Text me when you get to the mall and when you’re on your way home!”

“Okay!” She yelled back, trudging through the snow to the car.

“Keep your location on!” You could almost feel her roll her eyes at you,

“Okay!” Annoyed this time.

“I love you!” You shouted as she got in the car, slamming the door behind her. Your phone chimed with reply,

love you too

With that you went to rouse the sleeping man upstairs.

He groaned unhappily when you woke him up, but it was quickly soothed by the coffee you’d supplied him with.

Christmas was quickly approaching. The first Christmas you’d be spending together as a real, honest to god, family. In your own home, ready to begin your own traditions. The house was beautifully decorated and almost always smelled like cookies and a Christmas movie or music was always playing in the background.

There was a truly sweet moment you’d wanted to commit to memory for the rest of your life. Julia rolling out cookie dough, Christmas music blaring obnoxiously loud and Ransom coming out from his study yelling,

“I can’t write anything in a house this loud!” Walking over to the sound system and turning it down to a soft ambling. Your sister and you looking at him and laughing, the red faced lumberjack quickly losing steam as he realized he was wearing the hideous Christmas sweater you’d jokingly bought him last year. “It’s the warmest sweater I own.” He claimed. Sure. Sure it is.

He turned the music back up a little louder, coming to a happy medium. His embarrassment waning as he looked at the two of you in the kitchen. A family that didn’t argue with every other word. People who genuinely loved each other. Something he never knew he wanted or needed. He came over to you, gently clasping your hands before tugging you into his body to ridiculously dance around to Jingle Bell Rock. The three of you peeling with laughter. Was this even real life anymore? With a soft parting kiss and a peak over your sisters shoulder to steal some cookie dough he was reluctantly walking back to his study, coming to join you twenty minutes later after finishing the chapter he’d been working on all day.

The three of you spent the rest of the night in the living room, watching the cheesy A Christmas Prince series on Netflix and eating what was sure your body weight in popcorn. Cozy with your little family.

“Do you think she’d like a puppy?” Ransom whispered into your neck one night.

“Do not.” You were close to sleep, just about to drift off, when his question stirred you awake.

“I always wanted a puppy when I was a kid.” He pressed a kiss against your neck, fingers gently tugging your nipple.

“I’ll be the one taking care of it,” You whimpered as his other hand sunk between your thighs, “Do not get her a puppy.” His lips met your shoulder and you turned in his arms, thighs parting as he lightly stroked your clit.

“You’ll get there.” He pressed his lips against yours, teasing your entrance with his fingers, his now hard cock nudging against your thigh. “You’ll warm up to the idea.”

“No…” You whined, his fingers beginning to stroke your g-spot, his body coming to lay over yours, his eyes half lidded and lips wet and red came to meet yours as he removed his fingers and replaced them with his cock. “Fuck.” His fingers laced themselves through yours, pressing your hands against the sheets as he began to rock his hips slowly into yours.

“You’re so sweet on me baby,” He mouthed against your lips, “So sweet on us.” He moaned. Your hips ground against his with every thrust. This slow love making that was making you gush around him, pussy making obscene sounds with every tilt of his hips, gently brushing the parts of you that make your legs shake. He chest close to yours, the begging in his eyes,

“You’ll be such a good mother,” His hips met yours a little harder on that one causing you to gasp, pussy clenching around him. “Gonna give me what I want for Christmas?” He asked. He did this sometimes, knowing you were still on birth control and the actual relationship was still relatively new, the two of you had been together for almost a year now, you knew that he’d been toying with the idea of having a baby. You’d talked about it in therapy recently.

“I love you,” He moaned, his hips build up a little speed as your legs came to wrap high around his waist. “I can’t wait,” He groaned, “So good to me.” His lips capturing yours passionately as his hips stalled, grinding himself against your g-spot, pubic bone rubbing your clit as you found your orgasm, pussy gushing wet dripping down his thighs onto the bed as you moaned into his mouth.

“You’ll be such a good mother baby, such a good fucking mother.” His hips picked back up in pace, “I’d do anything for you baby. Anything.” He was chasing his release now, thrusting against your sensitive clit making you reel again before releasing your hands and grabbing your thighs, pushing them back high against the bed, just making you take it. You both had to try to be quiet here, your sister on the floor above you, your hand covered your mouth as you tried to muffle the loud obnoxious squealing that came uncontrollably as his hips slapped against your ass in this position. Sweat forming on his brow and head thrown back as he groans through his teeth, feeling him empty his seed deep against your cervix.

In all the years you’d known him Ransom was never a kid person. He didn’t like small children, but he also didn’t come into contact with them often which is why it was so strange two months ago when he originally brought up the idea. “I think we would make pretty okay parents,” He said, “Better than mine definitely.” It made your heart flutter, thinking of a life with him. Knowing that he was also thinking about a life with you, but it’s just not the right time.

What wasn’t surprising about any of this was on Christmas morning, after breakfast and the exchanging of handmade sweaters, new books to read, a couple new apple watches, and your sister and you receiving matching earrings, a gorgeous little blue nose pit bull puppy, one that reminded you of your childhood dog was brought out with a little pink bow around its neck. Ransom ignored your glare as he handed the sweet little thing to your sister, who was crying in happiness.

He would remind you later on that he found you cooing to the sweet little thing only a few minutes after that, the puppy curled up in your arms, licking your fingers in earnest.

“Don’t you have something else?” Julia asked him.

“Julia this is plenty,” You scolded, “He’s gotten you enough.” She rolled her eyes.

“It’s not for me.” She laughed. The little puppy sleeping in her arms and you scratched it behind it’s ears, turning to Ransom who shifted nervously to one knee, a ring box open in his hand.

“Stop it.” Came out from a very watery smile. He licked his lips, tugging his bottom one between his teeth before starting,

“You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved.”

TAGLIST //

@littlechillies @hellizhelusive2 @notbexmader @marvelouspottering @whitequeenasitbgan @Thegraylaway @readermia @i-believe-in-unicorns-and-you @princess-evans-addict @perplexed3001 @deidrashouseofpain @hailmary-yramliah @sleepycvpid @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @starlywars @gifsbysimplysonia @rocknbasil @imnotelasticheart @wannabegonnie @d1sconnect3d @heyguyz13 @unimomajo @this-is-serenaa @bookish-shristi @auroussss

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #knives out #Chris Evans

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johnkrrasinski · 4 years

Text

two paper airplanes flying;

full masterlist

Pairings: Ransom Drysdale x female!reader

Word count: 8,537 (yes you got that right)

Warning: smut!!! exhibitionism, fingering, dirty talk. (MUST BE 18+)

Summary: ransom drysdale will always find you, no matter where you are. always.

a/n: this is for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor‘s dark writing challenge. i chose prompt #24 “Character A is starting over. What happens when their past catches up to them?” hey there! i knowwww that the word count probably shocked the hell out of you cause it did me too. i got so lost in writing this fic that i ended up writing over 8k+ but honestly, this was really fun to write and i’ve been thinking of writing about ransom for awhile! so i hope you like it! please leave a like and comment.

You stepped into your apartment unit, as you hauled the very last box of your belongings with your foot, due to its ponderosity. You were wearied from the hours you spent on moving in. And you hadn't even set everything up in place yet. You simply had to worry about getting all of the boxes out of the moving truck now.

You thanked the mover for helping you with all the commodity that was partially carried by them into your unit. You tipped them off and said your goodbye.

You closed the door behind you and you sighed. You immediately slumped yourself down on the couch, trying to regain the energy you had receded. You threw your head back as you closed your eyes. Your thoughts drifted to the chaos that had coerced you into escaping to the big city and run away.

Free. Free from the town, free from the drama, free from him.

You had been dating Ransom Drysdale for three months now. Your families were well-acquainted since you were only kids. Well, Ransom was several years older than you, but the first time you met him was when he was nothing but a fresh-faced, ambitious young man who had been spoiled by his parents since he was still in Linda Drysdale's womb.

Even as kids, he would often flirt with you, and make stupid jokes that used to elicit a chuckle out of you. At family gatherings, he would often ask you to play hide and seek and he always succeeded in locating you, no matter how clever you think you are at hiding. There's not a single hiding spot that you hadn't attempted to hide yourself in, that he failed to find. "I will always find you." He once said.

Years later, you remained good friends, despite the alteration in his demeanor. He became more impertinent. He grew into a charismatic, presumptuous, dashing young man who used snarky remarks as his weapon in family events. He was aware of his indisputable good looks. He utilized it as the power to lure any woman into his bed and that gave him even more reason to his entitlement.

He never once had to look for a job, because he knew his parents were incapable of cutting him off. Just like how he made you incapable of resisting him one night after you went back to Boston after you graduated for Thanksgiving break. You wanted to take a little break and spend some time in your hometown before you start your own clothing line that you've dreamt about since you were a toddler who was obsessed with Barbie dolls and dressing them up.

You'd always pretend that you were Barbie and Ransom was Ken. Silly little you.

You knew damn well that spending Thanksgiving with your family would be a bad idea. You had this tradition, that on every Thanksgiving, your family would celebrate it with the Thrombeys. And you knew Ransom would be there. He would make a magnetic entrance, with his nose up high and a tantalizing scowl on his face, showcasing his intact ego.

Ransom sat next to you on Thanksgiving dinner as he would every year. You were wearing a beige-colored, off the shoulder knitted-sweater dress. Ransom would openly flirt with you in front of your parents, despite being aware that your parents strongly opposed the idea of you dating him. They respected his family, but not his notorious reputation. That's why they would never say anything incriminating that would cause a strain between your family and his, in front of them. So they'd pretend to smile and nod along.

You had warned Ransom many times to take it slow on the PDA when your parents are around. You have told him that they weren't too keen on you being together. And so, Ransom took it as a challenge. He would put his hand on your thigh, as you try to swat him away. The more you try to resist, the harder he would try to tease you. He loved seeing you struggle under his touch and he wanted to see you fall apart in front of the entire family. Because he was an asshole who got off on your humiliation.

Ransom would slowly lift your dress as Richard and your father exchanged stories of how their business empires had been doing. He would push it even harder when Meg would make a conversation about university life as a fellow college student, of course, she'd confide in you regarding the stress exams and assignments. You were practically sisters. She trusted you more than her own cousins; Ransom and Jacob.

Ransom would keep retreating his hand onto your thigh to hike up your dress and to insert his fingers into your private parts. He would smirk when you couldn't impede him anymore. He would slowly rub your wet core and feel you under his touch. It made you squirm in your seat, as you try to concentrate on what Joni was flaunting about. She was talking so highly about a new deal she made with a skin-care company that asked her to advertise their overpriced products or something.

Ransom would peek his eyes to the side to watch your struggle, as you try not to choke on your drink. You tried to calm your nerves by gulping a glass of wine. It didn't help, his fingers were now moving so furiously that if everybody stopped talking, the whole room would be able to hear the obscene sounds of your drenched pussy against your panties.

He kept circling your bud as you try not to crumble from orgasm in front of your entire family. You held yourself back by covering your mouth as your moans were pleading to be vocalized. Meg detected the agitation on your face, from the way you sweat nervously, despite the cold air in the room. From the way you were fidgeting in your seat and the way you were a little silent from the usual.

"Y/N, are you okay? You look a little unwell."

"Y-yeah. I'm fine, Meg, ju- just... Cramps. That's all." You cleared your throat.

She nodded at that, but the look on her face told you that she didn't believe you were telling the whole truth, but she was going to let it slide.

Joni carried on with her interrupted vaunting about her best-dressed award or something. Your head started to become hazy from the impending climax that was about to hit you like a hurricane. Just a few more vigorous rubs from Ransom's skillful fingers, and then you fell apart.

You hunched yourself down slightly to hide the orgasmic look on your face, as your release drenched both your underwear and his palm. You tried to slow your breathing down by staying still in place, as you relish in the aftermath of your displayed euphoria.

Everyone was still unaware of what just happened, and you were glad of it. There's no way you'd be able to face your parents alone if they knew Ransom had inappropriately groped you under the table on Thanksgiving dinner. The look on their faces would make you wish the earth would swallow you so you'd vanish from the face of the earth.

You excused yourself, saying that you needed to use the bathroom. And you weren't exactly lying, you did need to use the bathroom. For an unspeakable reason. To make it less conspicuous, Ransom waited for a few minutes to join you.

He excused himself and followed you to the bathroom. You were cleaning yourself up when Ransom knocked on the door. You immediately knew that trouble was paying you a visit. You opened the door and his Carolina blue eyes greeted you. You exchanged nothing but glances for a moment there, then he grabbed your face in his big hands and pressed his lips onto yours brutally as if his life depended on it.

He backed your body with his and pressed you to the bathroom sink. Your makeout session didn't stop until he decided to turn your figure around in the swift motion of his hands, and he lifted up your skirt abruptly and ripped apart your panties. He threw it on the marble bathroom floor.

His broad figure was towering over you, and you had never felt so tiny against a man before. He stared into the reflection of your eyes on the mirror before he made the next move. He then pushed his finger onto your clit and shamelessly rubbed you there, stimulating you for the second time, as if you weren't soaked in excitement already.

"I've barely done anything to you and you're already soaking wet..." He chuckled condescendingly. You shut your eyes in pleasure, couldn't suppress the moans on your lips.

"You secretly like it when my fingers are buried deep in your cunt, in front of your parents, don't you. What a dirty girl."

You were too lost in the feel of his fingers to answer him. The truth is, you have wanted him for as long as you could remember. You remember 10 years old you were giddy whenever your parents told you that the Thrombeys were coming over. You had the biggest crush on Ransom since you were basically a toddler. You never said anything to him though, fearing that it would ruin the friendship. And what if... He didn't feel the same way? What if instead of reciprocating the declaration, he laughs on your face and turns his back on you?

So you buried your feeling deep until you entered your teenage years. Never hinting a single clue that you were into him. Even during his teenage years, you both went into the same school. One of the top private schools in Massachusets, the best both of your parents could possibly afford. Money was never part of your family's problem and Ransom could relate.

You watched him breaking girls' hearts here and there, throughout his adolescent years. He and you remained close for sure, but in school, he barely acknowledged you. He would always pretend that he didn't really know you well. And oftentimes, that would irk you, to the point where you'd neglect his texts and phone calls for days. When he couldn't come over, he would either text or call you, treasuring your companion through the small device.

But he went over the line, you'd always give him a silent treatment. You wanted him to know that you were exasperated at his actions. When his texts and calls remained unanswered, then he would try to FaceTime you, but that too went ignored. You'd decide to read his texts without replying, trying to give him even a harder lesson.

Deep inside of your heart, you knew that you technically had no right to be mad at him. He had the right to date any girl he wanted, or to sleep with any girl he wanted. You weren't in a committed relationship, you barely had feelings for each other. Well, for him. Not for you, you were steep in love with him, and yet, you couldn't say or do anything about it. You were screwed, and you couldn't get yourself out of the quicksand.

But you told yourself that this was for the best. Maybe if you keep ignoring him, you will slowly learn how to get over him. You needed some space and maybe, just maybe, with the absence of his presence, you could find a way to accept that what you had was merely friendship and nothing more, nothing romantic.

The next day, after you neglected him all night, he would come up to you and confronted you about it at school. "What the hell happened? Why did you ignore me last night? I tried to call and text you a thousand times and you didn't fucking answer!"

You scoffed at his anger. Seriously? He wanted to go there? He wanted to act as if you owed him an explanation? "I don't have to answer you if I don't want to, Ransom. Now step away, I'm late to class."

He didn't flinch. He stood still and persisted in blocking you from leaving him. He grabbed your biceps, not too harsh but enough to hear him. "What the hell is wrong with you? Are you on your period or something?"

You stared at him incredulously. Is he seriously this stupid? There was no point in trying to give him a lesson, he was too inconsiderate and proud to care about your feelings anyway. "Get the fuck away from me, Ransom. Just move, please, I need to get to class."

"I am not letting you go until you explain why you're acting like this! Just tell me what did I do? Did I say something wrong?" His tone softened. The look on his face told you that he was desperate to fix whatever the hell was wrong between you two, even if he didn't really have a clue whether something was really wrong or not.

"Move, or I will call the principal." The principal didn't intimidate him, none of the teachers did. He was trouble, parading around the halls like he owned the entire school. And he knew that his parents were capable of affording the entire school, that's why none of these teacher's threats could put him in fear. But he didn't want to cause a scene, especially in front of the whole school, where his reputation might be damaged.

"This conversation's not over, y/n."

You didn't give him a reaction and just walked past him, straight to class. A small part of your heart didn't want to leave him in the dark, but you also couldn't find a way to yell at him without making yourself look crazy, especially in front of the entire school.

So you put on this cold facade like you didn't really care about him and that you weren't in the mood to talk to him, hoping that he would figure it out himself. Maybe if you punished him long enough, he would have a change of heart. Deep down you know that it's wishful thinking. He had gone too deep into his fuckboy ways and there wasn't an ounce of regret in him about it. But you let your brain create these nonsensical scenarios, that once he realized that he had not cherished you in the way you deserved all this time, he would drive to your house and beg for your forgiveness, and you'd be the happiest couple in school. Maybe... Just maybe.

Years went by as you both kept playing this cat and mouse game. A perpetual cycle for the two of you. But eventually, one of you had to be the grown-up and cut it off.

Ransom took you from behind as he put a hand over your mouth to muffle the obscene noises coming out of your mouth. You couldn't help it, as much as you wanted to stay quiet and prevent your parents from catching you doing the dirty, his vigorous thrusts were too good, the friction of his shaft made your head spin.

Your knees buckled and if it weren't for his body pressing you tight against the sink, you would've crumbled to the floor already. He whispered filthy words into your ears, making you feel even more lightheaded. "You can not resist me, can you? Walking around in your designer dress, like you are this posh little princess, when I know you bury your fingers deep in your cunt every night wishing it was my cock instead..."

A few more deep-seated thrusts and you came apart. You threw your head back and rested it on his shoulder, as he sloppily pushed into you more trying to reach his own orgasm. He moved his hand that was blocking your moans to your hips. His unmerciful movements prolonged your release as he reached his.

You were spent from the intense eruption as he pulled himself out of you and stepped back, watching his fluids flow out of you like a celestial water fountain saturating its frame. He loved the picturesque view. You steadied yourself as your knees quivered. You gripped the sink tile of the sink and turned around to face him.

"Don't speak a word of this to anyone."

That made his grin grow wider, like the conceited asshole he was. "Aw, what's the matter, baby? You don't want anyone to know what a little whore you truly are?"

"Shut up. And wait here for at least 10 minutes."

You opened the door and lurked the halls, glad that no one was there to catch your shenanigans with Ransom.

You stepped out of the bathroom hurriedly and closed the door behind you quietly. You walked back to the dining room, as calm as you possibly could, despite the still lingering high from Ransom's cock, but you were good at mastering the impassive face.

Later that night, Ransom paid you another visit as you were doing your nighttime skincare routine, in your silk black robe. He quietly climbed through your window and knocked softly at the glass.

You were surprised to see him. What the hell is he doing here? Also, climbing up to your window? This isn't 9th grade and you two weren't fifteen anymore. But you opened the handle for him slightly and spoke before you let him in.

"What the hell are you doing here, Ransom? It's getting late and I'm exhausted."

"Oh, I bet you are, babygirl. After what I did to you this afternoon, I would've been worn out too." His voice teasing.

You shook your head at his stupid banter. "Shut up, and don't make any noise. My parents are sleeping next door. If you wake them up, I will act like you attacked me and let them call the cops on you."

"Can't promise you anything, but I'll try." He winked.

You rolled your eyes and you opened the door wider, to enable his enormous figure in. "What do you want Ransom, couldn't you just text or call me?" You folded your hands against your chest.

"I needed to see you again, and I actually have something to say to you."

You shrugged. "Okay, then tell me. What was so important that you couldn't call or text? Or FaceTime, it's really not that hard to ju-"

He shut you up by attacking your lips as he grabbed your face with his hands as he did earlier. You were slightly pushed back by his truculent action but he caught you and his tongue entered into your open mouth as it tangled with yours.

You were breathless from the sudden action. He kept on kissing you until he was running out of breath as he was satisfied with how swollen your lips were. You gulped as you gathered the cells in your brain that were scrambled gruffly by him back together again. You assumed he wanted sex because if there's anything that Ransom couldn't run low on, it's his stamina. And of course, being the manwhore that he is, he couldn't keep it in his pants for at least until the morning.

"Be my girl, baby."

"...What?" You backtracked your face to assess him, for you were taken aback by what he just said. The words 15 years old you were longing to hear, but not now. Not anymore.

The truth is, you had moved on. At least you thought you were. When you both went off to college, you went to separate universities, despite still staying in touch, you rarely saw one another. You got busy with unraveling the major that you were passionate about and made new friends who shared the same interests as you do. You even met a couple of cute boys that caught your eye.

Though they couldn't compare to Ransom's charm, they still lend a hand in helping you forget Ransom. You realized you couldn't be a teenager anymore and had to chase only what truly matters to you and what helps you grow.

Eventually, your feelings started to erode away, as your college days went by. Went on a few monotonous dates, went to parties with your friends, and studied hard for your grades. You had the whole world in your hands, and you weren't about to let anything or anyone, including Ransom, fuck it up. No, no, especially Ransom.

But every time you see him at annual celebrations or at family gatherings, his magnetism still pulls you in like gravity. So you decided to let loose and live your life, without fearing that you'd get deeper into your feelings because you've matured now, and you weren't going to be held back by your juvenile crush anymore.

"Ransom... How drunk are you?"

"What? No! I'm totally sober. Say yes, baby, I know you've wanted me since high school."

"Ransom, shut up. You are clearly drunk, and I need to sleep, alright?" You tried to push him playfully, knowing that he might hit the floor with a loud thud and it would risk your parents catching you both.

"I'm serious, y/n! Why do you think I came all the way over here just to talk to you? I want you, baby."

You scoffed at his antics. "Let me get this right... You want me, to be your girl?"

"Yes," he grabbed both of your hands and brought them close to his chest. You could feel his heartbeat's pace escalated, slowly but surely. You wanted to believe the look of longing in his eyes. A part of you believed that it was simply part of his charm; the way he'd gaze deeply into a girl's eyes and how he'd make them believe that he sincerely wants them, to only ruin their mascara and never to return their calls again.

But the other part of you wanted to believe that, after years of dynamic friendship, he truly yearned for you. That, after many meaningless hookups, he had realized that it couldn't fill the void inside him and that he couldn't find you in anyone else. Suddenly, the 15 years old girl in you revived. You remembered the old flame and you couldn't extinguish it now.

"I know I'm a little late, but c'mon. We've been fucking around for years and tell me, this afternoon didn't mean something to you. We'd make a great couple." He paused, giving you a moment to answer. He searched for it on your face, whilst waiting for your mouth to say the green-light word.

He then continued, replacing the silence with his beguiling persuasion. "So, what do you say, baby? I know you want this. I know you want me. We'll go on a date tomorrow and I'll pick you up at 7." The look on his ocean blue eyes confined you in spot, frozen the time. Like you were in a movie and the picture was put in slow-motion. You felt helpless under his words. You couldn't fake it anymore now, deep down you knew that you had always been his even when he didn't have a clue of it.

"Yes, Ransom, I want to be yo-" Before you could even finish your words, he cut you off by abruptly pressing his lips to yours and you were slightly shoved back from the sudden force. If he hadn't been holding you so tightly, you would've already landed on the floor. You opened your mouth to let his tongue enter as it gets tangled with yours. His hand immediately moved from your face to your thighs, lifting you up and you circled them around his waist.

He carried you to the bed, as his lips continued its misbehaving on you. He dropped on you the mattress, and untied your robes, revealing your naked body under it. You were wearing nothing but black lace underwear, that was soon torn off from your body, exposing your moist pussy too. His lips then move to your neck, kissing the sensitive spot that took your breath away.

He bit the skin hard to leave a hickey, stamping his mark on you. He kept on trailing open-mouthed kisses to your body, as he made a quick stop on your nipples, giving them extra attention. He sucked on the right one like a starved baby, as his other hand circled on your other one, and he pinched it hard, causing your body to jolt.

He made sure it was wet enough with his soaked with his saliva until he decided to move further down, as his other hand was still groping your other breast. Without wasting any more time, as soon as he reached your most sensitive part, he immediately licked a stripe on your bud, as he feasted like a deprived man.

His fingers unclasped your breast, as he shoved the two of them inside your heated core. You shrieked due to the shock, as your hand immediately muffle yourself, trying not to make any louder noise. He lifted his head to see the expression on your face, lost in pleasure as he kept on intruding in and out of you. "Shh, be quiet babygirl, or your parents are going to walk in on you creaming all over my fingers."

Your mind was hazy from the friction his fingers caused, you stared at his face through foggy lens, as his fingers went deeper and faster. It was getting harder and harder to hold back your moans. His words sounded obscure in your ears, as your brain was clouded with the tightening coil inside you. You couldn't think, you couldn't speak, you couldn't move under him. He truly had you wrapped around his fingers. Literally.

You felt yourself nearing the explosion, your hands immediately went around his shoulders as you hid your face on his neck, he sensed your impending release, so his thumb pressed itself to your clit and circled it, making you lose your damn mind. Just a couple more flicks, and you were a crumpled mess on the sheets. Your juices splattered all of over his hand, but it didn't stop moving in and out of you, prolonging the bliss.

After you started to cool down and recollect yourself, he pulled his hand out of you and he intensely gazed into your eyes whilst cleaning himself off your juices by sucking them clean, like a goddamn peanut butter Nutella.

He grinned like a devil who had just committed his greatest crime while you were a sweating, panting mess underneath him. "You taste better than those fucking Biscoff cookies, sweetheart." He kissed your mouth one more before he decided to get out of your bed. You rose from the bed too, as you followed him to the window. "Gotta go, it's getting late. Think you need to charge yourself, baby."

You chuckled, his wittiness always gets you. "I don't know, got a couple of unused toys in my drawers, I might need to see if they work."

"Don't you dare." His expression hardened, but you knew that he was playing along with your teasing.

"Can't promise you anything, but I'll try." You winked. His remark has backfired. "Now, leave, before, I call my daddy on you."

"Oh, babygirl, soon, your father won't be the only one you call daddy." If you were having a drink right now, you would've chocked on your water. Before you could retort, he ended the windup the night with a quick reminder, "Tomorrow, 7 pm. Dress up for me, yeah?" It was merely a rhetorical question, with an imperious intent. You both knew damn well you were going to dress up for him, he didn't have to ask twice to know the answer.

"I'll see you tomorrow." As he opened the window and quickly climbed down like a thief. How he managed to be as silent as a Ninja with his enormous figure, you'll never know. But he did it impeccably anyway.

You watched him through the window, as he opened the door of his car, and slid into the driver's seat. You two were practically the modern version of Romeo and Juliet. Your silliness whispered. Your hopeless romantic heart had associated the mundanity of life with fairytales and magical characters. You quickly shook those thoughts away as Ransom drove off his BMW and vanished into the night.

You laid in your bed that night, giddy with elation, like a teenage girl who had just been asked to go to prom with him by her crush. You tried to sleep off the exhaustion from the shenanigans had left you with. But despite feeling the weariness in your bones, you still couldn't resist the grin on your face. You eventually closed your eyes, replaying the way Ransom had touched you, kissed you, and fucked you earlier as you slowly drifted away to the land of dreams.

That's how your relationship with Ransom began. It only lasted for so long, until you both started arguing more and more every day. Whenever you had a big fight, you'd often threaten him by saying that you were going to leave, and when you actually dumped him, he always came back to your door, begging for forgiveness, wearing his best apologies.

Here's the upgraded cat and mouse game you two were playing again. Only this time, you two were caught in a narrower circle, that you both started. Him by asking you out, and you by agreeing to be his girl.

One morning, you were woken up by the news of Harlan Thrombey's death. To say you were shocked, was an understatement. Of course, you were aware that due to his age, his clock was ticking. It was only about a matter of time when you'll have to reminisce about your very last conversation with him.

You and Harlan were quite close. He was like the grandfather you never had. Your grandparents from your father's side died before you could even know them. Your grandparents from your mother's side lived on the other side of the world, and she didn't get along with them, due to your mother's ambitions of moving to the United States, and refused to follow her parents' footsteps in business. She pursued her own dreams and so, they totally cut her off.

But being the boss lady that your mother was, she managed to build her own empire, making her and your father 'a power couple', as one would say. Your mother met your father while they were in college, they got married after dating for three years, and had you, a year later.

You had always admired your parent's harmonious marriage. Your father could get a little too overambitious sometimes, and your mother had high expectations of you, but, you knew deep down they loved you and wanted nothing but the best for their one and only daughter. And most importantly, they were still madly in love with each other even after years of being married. It's very rare to find those these days.

You always wondered whether it was possible for you and Ransom to see a peak of light. Whether you could have what your parents have. A loving, committed, everlasting relationship. You used to think that you were going to marry Ransom eventually. That you might see a slow change in Ransom, but eventually, you were going to end up together, have kids, maybe two, a girl and a boy. You'll name them Florence and Nathan. Yeah, you had always loved those names.

But those fantasies spontaneously combust as soon as your relationship started to get rocky. Your faith in your future with Ransom was fading, and you were okay with that, maybe it's going to sting for a while, and you were going to cry on your bedroom floor, but you'll be fine. You'll move on and you'll meet someone else, someone better, someone wiser, someone kinder with your heart.

After the news of Harlan's unexpected death loomed over the house like a ghost, you quickly called Ransom. He didn't answer. You called him for the second time, and he finally picked up. "Hey, baby." His voice sounded too cheerful for someone who had just lost his grandfather. But then you remember that this was Ransom you were talking about. He didn't have an ounce of remorse or clemency in that cold heart of his.

"Hey, I just heard the news... How are you doing?"

"Harlan's death? Well, who are we kidding, it was just a matter of time anyway. That old bastard."

"Ransom, my parents told me everything. He didn't die to natural causes, he was murdered." Saying it still doesn't sound right. The flair for the dramatic, Harlan Thrombey. Death by cliche, like the murder mysteries novels he wrote.

"Unfortunately, but I guess he had it coming. Things already went South since the party anyway." He shrugged it off.

The party? Why would the conversation suddenly steer into the party?

The night's party before Harlan's death, you attended the family's mansion a little late, for you were feeling a little sick due to your menstruation cycle. The truth was, you didn't really wanna go anyway but you promised Ransom that you were going to see him and your parents that you weren't going to be rude.

By the time you were there, you didn't even get to see Ransom for he was arguing with Harlan in his small study room. So you went over to Meg to have a little chat with a glass of champagne in your hand. Suddenly, you spotted Ransom storming off Harlan's study as he picked up his jacket and ran to the door to God knows where. You didn't wanna be nosy, you figured Ransom would probably tell you about it later. But you were going to let him have some space, so you didn't try to stop him.

"Hey, I've been meaning to ask... What happened last night? In Harlan's study before you stormed off from the party?"

Silence faltered for a moment before he answered, "just Harlan's usual antics. It was no big deal, I promise you."

You doubted that he was telling you the full truth, but it was apparent to you that he wasn't interested in discussing this topic any longer, so you weren't going to push him. People grieve in different ways, and you were going to let him deal with it in his own ways.

"Alright, for whatever it's worth, I'm truly sorry. He was a good man."

"Yeah, I know, baby. Me too. I'll call you later, alright?"

"Okay." And the call ended.

Weeks went on as the investigation of the murder proceeded, Detective Benoit Blanc, Lieutenant Elliott, and Trooper Wagner were meticulously taking every step further to find out the truth, investigating every possible suspect, learning their motives thoroughly.

As those weeks went by, your suspicion of Ransom's innocence grew. Every time you ask about him, he'd quickly shut it off and redirect the topic. He told you once, that Harlan was going to cut him off his will and that from now on, he was going to have to fend for himself. That only raised more questions in your head; how was he going to fend for himself now, is he going to get a job? Did Harlan say something else that might've indicated his farewell?

And most importantly, the conveniently coincidental timing. This heated argument between them took place the night before Harlan's death. Your curiosity grew about what really went down in his study...

The news broke when you were sitting in your spacious study, filled with books of your favorite authors. Romance novels, Sci-Fi books, business books, fashion books, etc. You like to keep yourself educated. You had just ended a phone call with a potential investor of your future clothing line when your mother knocked on your door and you let her in. There was a flash of disturbance on her face.

"Sweetheart, have you heard yet?" She approached you and put her hands on your shoulders, trying to comfort you before you even knew what she was trying to comfort you from.

"No, heard about what?"

"Ransom has been arrested. For Harlan's murder. Detective Blanc figured everything out. He also confessed of killing Fran, their help."

You squinted your eyes at her statement. "...What?" You felt like you had been struck by a thunder amidst your serene beauty sleep.

"I'm truly sorry, sweetheart. But your father and I knew that he was bad news. You should've never associated with him since a long time ago."

"He's my childhood friend, mom. You and Dad are close to the Thrombeys. How do you expect me not to be associated with him?"

"I know, but we never concurred on you two dating. His reputation precedes him."

You felt like you were going to vomit, you couldn't believe your own ears. You always knew that Ransom was a rascal by nature, but the fact that he was capable of murder dumbstruck you. And the fact that he murdered his own grandfather made you question whether he had a drop of empathy and remorse at all in that frozen heart of his.

"Where is he now, mom?"

"He's currently in custody. Detective Elliott and Trooper Wagner are questioning him for his statement."

And that's how you ended up here, in New York City, relocating your personal belongings to your brand-new place that you refer to as home. You kept recalling that night when you were finally ready to talk to him after he pleaded guilty of committing Harlan's murder.

A big part of you loathed him. A murderer. He wasn't just a man with bad intentions and bad behaviors, but he was willing to go as far as taking someone else's life if they don't grant him his wishes. Money really brings out the worst in people.

But another part of you yearned for him. Yearned for his benign words and sincere touches exchanged during late-night conversations after he fucked you like an animal in your bed. Or at his place, where he'd ask you to stay because he knew how drained you were after he made you cum three times... At least.

Things were often convoluted and acrimonious between the two of you, but when it's good, it's as gentle as the autumn breeze and as steady as Wednesday evenings in Boston. It's ironic, really, how you moved to the city that epitomized the chaos part of your shattered relationship.

For now, you were okay. You were dealing with the split at your own pace, whilst your mind was constantly calculating your next move to start your own clothing line. Making calls and closing deals here and there. Nightly meetings in fancy restaurants of Manhattan. Invariably sketching up the spontaneous designs that appear in your head.

But your heart discreetly missing him. When the buzzing of the city was boisterous and the lights are sparkling like a Christmas tree, you wished that he was here with you instead of being locked up in prison. You loved New York and you had been dreaming of moving there for as long as you could remember. You just wished that someone was there to share the beauty of the city with you.

Like one night when your parents were out of town, and Ransom came over to your house. You had passionately made love in the dark that night, and as always, after he was finished with you, he'd hold you close to his chest as he strokes your hair and his other hand was placed behind his head, displaying his hard rock chest.

"You ever thought about getting out of Boston?"

"Any place you have in mind?"

"New York City. I've always loved the big city life, you know? The town that never sleeps and the endless opportunities that await."

"You're thinking about moving there?"

"...Yeah. I wanna start my own clothing line, Ransom. I don't wanna live off of my parents' trust fund forever. I wanna be my own person and New York seems like the best city to start off."

"I can't stop you if you that's what you really want but, we're gonna have to figure things out."

"What if I move to New York and you stay? How would we make this work?"

"Don't worry, we'll figure something out... I'll find you. I'll always find you."

When you were finally ready to have an one-on-one with him, you went to visit him. You put on your black coat and your Chanel sunglasses to hide your own face, not wanting to be recognized by people.

He walked into the visitation room and sat on the phone booth in his neon orange attire. His raven hair was slicked back, as neat as ever. How he managed to still look like an entitled, trust-fund brat whilst locked up in prison, you'll never know.

"You've finally come to see me."

"I'm not here to see you. I'm here to talk to you."

"C'mon sweetheart, cut me some slack here, I've been accused of my own grandfather's murder and you were going to act like a bitch on your first visitation? It's been months and I've fucking missed you."

"Shut up, Ransom. I don't wanna hear any more lies coming out of that mouth of yours. You are a fucking murderer, how could you? And your own grandfather? What kind of wretch does that?"

"That old bastard had it coming when he decided to cut me out. You think I'll let him get away with it? Hell no. That's my money! My birthright! He couldn't just-"

"Ransom, I'm breaking up with you." You interrupted his grievance.

He paused for a moment as if he was digesting the words you just unloaded on him. "What did you say?"

"You heard me. I'm breaking up with you. I do not wanna be associated with a murderer."

Suddenly, his palm struck the glass with a roar so harsh, it nearly staggered. The look on his face was murderous and his breathing labored. And in that moment, you had no doubt that he was indeed a murderer. The way his temper could strike at any time when he wasn't getting his way, you saw it with translucent eyes now.

"You are not breaking up with me, you hear me? I'm getting out of here and I'll find you. I will always find you."

"Goodbye, Ransom." And just like that, you terminated the ties that linked the two of you like a string on a puppet. Your entire history; two decades worth of whirlwind of emotions, resolved at the very last place you'd ever expected yourself to be. You rise from your seat and left him to rot in prison for his sins.

You kept yourself busy, chasing your ambitions to life. You kept reminding yourself that Ransom was exactly where he was supposed to be. You made a vow to yourself that you weren't going to let anyone or anything stand in the way of you and your dream career, and you were going to live by that.

One night, you had just returned to your apartment from a meeting with your PR team for your clothing line company. The meeting went well and they were positive that your marketing & advertising plans will succeed in shaping the brand's excellent image.

You took off your Louboutin heels and put them on the shoe racks where all of your other shoes were neatly organized, from your sneakers, sandals, boots, and wedges. The apartment was still dark, but you could see through the city lights from the window, and because you had been living there for weeks now, you had memorized every inch of your place well enough to move around blindfolded.

You switched on the lights to your left, and that's when it echoed.

Him. His voice. Vanquishing the stillness of the room.

Shivers ran down your spine, like the cold midnight air of New York, assailing you when you were clad in nothing but bare. Just like how he pounced you out of the blue when your guard was down to the point where you had even forgotten why you had it in the first place.

"I see New York has been treating you well."

He stood there by the window, staring out into the bustling city, with a black trench coat hung flawlessly over his broad shoulders. His hands were deep in his pocket. You could only see the back of his head, but you knew if he turned around, you would see the insincerity in his words.

You stood there frozen in place, not believing your own eyes. The man you had come to fear; a murderer, who was imprisoned for his heinous crimes... He was standing in your very own apartment, on your wooden floors, waiting for you to come home.

Despite the low temperature of the room, you were sweating. You couldn't move, you couldn't breathe, you couldn't make a sound. You just witnessed as horror plays out, calculating its next move to imperil you.

He turned around, and that's when you saw it. His face displayed nothing but hollowness, Antarctica blue eyes pierced right into your soul. Like a spear shot right through the center of your heart.

“Ransom… How did you…?” Your breathing labored.

“You’re breaking up with me, you said?” He started walking towards you, deliberately. With every step his shoes thumped the ground, your heart raced, faster than the rogue wave washing over people on the shore.

You gulped. Your feet unconsciously withdrew you, as his figure was getting closer. You kept rewinding until your back hit the door, as you realized there’s no more room for you to run. Your hand immediately reached for the doorknob, but it was too late. Ransom had already seized it first, sealing your hand from turning it around as you run out of his grasp, once more.

He knew he will outrun you but he wasn’t going to take that risk. He was a man in hiding after all. He stealthily tracked you down in New York, without anyone’s knowledge, and wasted no time in paying you an unwanted visit to your apartment. He was a resourceful man, and once he set his mind on something, he will do whatever it takes to obtain it.

And he wanted you. Oh, how much he had missed you.

His other hand leaned on the door, right by your head, caging you with his body, trapping you right where he wanted you. But not for long.

“If you try to scream or run, I’ll make sure you’ll never see another light of day, sweetheart.” He whispered eerily into your ears. The hairs stood up in the back of your neck.

You weren’t going to be a fool and try to hit him or escape, knowing what he’s capable of. So you slowly unclasped the doorknob, and you pressed your forehead to the door, trying to shield yourself from this bloodthirsty beast.

Without saying another word, Ransom grabbed a full fist of your hair as he pulled you by your shoulder and directed you towards the capacious window, presenting a pellucid view of the city and how very much awake the pedestrians are.

Your hands palmed the window so your face wouldn’t hit the wall so hard, you might have a concussion. His hand moved to your back as it started to pull down the zipper of your dress. You tried to break free out of him, get him off your back, but you couldn’t, knowing that he could effortlessly overpower you.

“Don’t you fucking think of doing anything stupid, little girl. What did I warn you?”

Then you stopped thrashing around, as tears started to brim in your eyes. You tried to muffle your cries, not wanting to show him he had nearly broken you, but you couldn’t help the impotence. He brutally stripped the dress out of you, not caring if the fancy material might get lacerated.

Then he removed his own coat, and dropped it on the floor, as he used his leg to sweep both of your attires further away from your stance. The chilly night air overrun your skin, as you felt so exposed under his presence. You could hear the clinking sound of his belt, as he pulled down his pants and briefs and he moved to yours, tearing the material off of you.

Without any warning, he pushed himself inside of your wet core, feeling the slick easing him in and out of you. His hand returned to grab a fistful of your hair as he pulled back your head so he could grab you by the throat as he made you look into his eyes, whilst his other hand went to your hip, knowing full well that it could imprint a bruise on you. He then pressed his body into yours even tighter, to exhibit your bare body as he put on your breasts on full display for the entire city to see.

He slides in and out of you so easily, as his hips paced faster and unrelenting. “You really think you can run from me, huh? You must be delusional. You are mine and mine only. Always will and always be. You can’t fucking get rid of me.” He gritted through his rigorous thrusts.

You moaned in pain, as you could feel your humiliation wearing down on you. Your tears started to run down your cheeks, as your mascara got ruined along the way. Your head with clouded with shame and illicit lust.

“Let’s show the entire New York fucking City that you are mine, huh? That you are nothing but a dirty little cum-whore that belongs to me.”

You wailed louder, the mixture of pain, lust, and degradation overwhelmed you, inundating your lungs with water like you were drowning in the ocean. You squeezed his cock as you could feel your climax approaching, the fire in the pit of your stomach was ready to give in and explode. But you weren’t. You didn’t want to hand over your pleasure and give him the satisfaction of using you.

You were only human after all and the friction in your most pleasurable spot stole away all your power and strength to deny him as you yielded. A few more strokes and you crumbled. Your release washed over you and took over your body. Euphoria clogged in your brain, making you unable to think of anything else but him. His relentless thrusts that kept going prolonged your release as he tried to chase his own orgasm.

Then he let go, all the frustration, stress and anger, he unleashed all of them inside of you as he stayed still for a few minutes, making sure every drop of his cum stay inside you and none gets spilled to waste.

He breathed into your hair, as your panting didn’t slow down. You struggled with catching your breath as the glow of the moon reflected over your sweaty chest, exhibiting your exploited nudity. Your brain couldn’t even remember that you were standing on full display for you were too trounced by euphoria.

“I told you… I’ll always find you.”

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optimistic-dinosaur-nacho · 4 years

Text

Eat Sh*t, Or That

Ransom Drysdale x Fem!Reader

Warnings: [SPOILERS TO KNIVES OUT] Vomiting, Blood, Language, Mild Physical Abuse, Attempt Murder, Dark!Ransom, Slight Sexual Content (Men should not put his hands on another woman, this is a warning but this should not have the right for someone to put their hands on someone like this)

Summary: You and Ransom are a toxic couple, you treat him the way he treats you. You find ways to get rid of him, but either you or him keep crawling back to one another. At the end, you find the true side of him.

Author’s note: Just like I said, either way this is a warning and that this won’t stop a man from putting his hands on a woman, he should never do it in the first place. If abuse is not your taste. You may abandoned this story and never come back to it cause I care. That’s facts. By all means... Didn’t proofread it, I’m sorry if there are a few mistakes

Love you! Word count is 4800+

~~~~~~~~

Easter Day 2019

The big family was having a big Easter hunt, of course, they didn’t have much of little kids, Jacob and Meg were the younger two. Linda made it special for some of them, hiding plastic eggs either with candy or money. Jacob didn’t participate in it, he sat in the corner on his phone. Trolling his way through his expensive device, Meg was with her mother Joni throughout the whole family gathering.

Her father Neil died and so she was left with her mother. Joni was sister-in-law with Linda and Walt. Those two were the remaining children of Harlan Thrombey. Walt was the father of Jacob along with his wife, Donna. Linda was married to Richard Drysdale, then they had their son, Hugh Ransom Drysdale. A bratty playboy who managed to have a toxic relationship with Y/N L/N.

The whole family would see them come in without holding hands, usually Linda would see Y/N come in first before Ransom followed behind her, furious as ever.

Linda would have small talk with Y/N about her son. Understanding her son is a rich-cocky-dumb-sweater-asshole who can’t keep up with a relationship. He kept coming for her, he would threaten her about her job and say she will be fired.

Then there was Harlan’s nurse who comes very often to take care of him. Harlan met Y/N the first time Ransom hadn’t introduced her to him, she went up and greeted him herself. After that long conversation with Harlan and Y/N, Ransom had a heated argument about that with her after the small get together on their way back home.

Every day when they drive anywhere, everything goes downhill. Every to him becomes a problem. They at least go at it three times a day. It’s gone to the point where he threatens to hit her. Yes, he got in a few but he knew she threw it harder ones.

Dogs in the backyard will go at it when they’re screaming in another room.

And that’s what was going on today. Y/N and Ransom screaming at each other in Harlan’s office. Luckily Harlan was in the living room with his family, almost half the family was listening to their heated conversation. Jacob was tempted to record.

“I’m warning you!” Ransom shouts.

Y/N threw her arms out, her scarf flying up before falling back down at her out burst. “Don’t think I don’t know what you do when I’m not home!” She shouts.

He placed his hands on his hips and he grins, “And what’s that?”

“You’re fucking other girls! What? Am I too soft for you? Am I such a dumb baby that you don’t wanna fuck? Is that it?” She shouts, emphasizing the ‘dumb baby’ the nickname he calls her when she’s acting up like this.

His teeth grit against each other, she saw the tension in his jaw. “Believe me or not. But I’m sure I didn’t buy pink panties with cherries on them, pig!”

His eyebrows raise, “Pig?” He asked. “Yep!” She pops the ‘p’ with her hands on her hips. Her long white coat was hanging half way down her thighs. An outfit his mother Linda bought her for Christmas last year.

He laughs, his body turns the slightest before she sees his arm swing out and her head turns. The impact causes her cheek to sting. The tears never stung her eyes either, she was pissed. The first time he had hit her, she did cry. More after that, she grew familiar to his girl-like smacks.

She laughs lightly, her finger touching her lip to see if she bled from there. Nothing. Asshole. “You’re a fucking asshole, Hugh.”

“Don’t call me that,” He scrunches his face up almost in disgust. “Was Pig better?” She snapped. Ransom turns her head to her and grabs her coat, tugging her forward.

Her hands immediately shoved him off and she whacks her palm across his cheek. A loud groan came from him. Yeah. That hurt like a bitch didn’t it?

He held his hand to his cheek, glaring at her. “You’ll pay for that.”

“I’ll gladly pay it for another slap or a damn kick to that friend that hides between your damn legs like a puppy and its tail.” Ransom never budged. Y/N took this advantage and picked up her scarf that slipped off her neck. “I’m walking home. I’ll be sleeping on the couch as well. Don’t bother, asshole.” He watched her walk out the doors and she said goodbye to the family before passing the door again and left the home.

Panting heavily, his fists clench and Ransom storms out of the office, heading into the living room for his coat. “Ransom, what happened? Where are you going?” Linda asked, Ransom doesn’t reply and snatched his coat from the chair.

“Ransom!” Linda calls.

“I’m going out to drink,” He says, completely irritated. The next thing they heard was the slam of the front door. Silently, the family looked at each other. Easter didn’t turn out so well. But maybe fourth of July would turn out better.

Maybe.

Fourth of July

Yes. This didn’t turn out as good as Linda hoped. After a few months after Easter, Ransom and Y/N never really contacted the family to apologize for what happened on that day. Linda invited the two again, this time, Y/N was quiet throughout the whole party. Every now and then, she would go and grab a glass of wine, even get Jacob some juice. Y/N slightly chatted with Marta, who was hanging off to the side.

Linda offered Y/N and Ransom to sleep in one of the guest bedrooms in the house. Y/N agreed to do that just after Ransom rudely declined but he had no choice. I mean, he could leave Y/N in the bed alone and just go out for a drink again. He was pissed to hear that Y/N wanted to be with this family. Maybe she wanted to stay away from him.

She didn’t want to argue about some stupid spend-the-night-with-family. So, she ignored Ransom much as possible. The Thrombey and Drysdale’s all laughed and chatted. Ransom was sitting on the couch with his uncle, Walt and his wife, while Y/N was sitting in the one chair with a small table that separated the toxic couple.

Ransom would glance at her, watching her fingers drag along that glass of wine. Oh, how he loved those fingers wrapped around his-

“So, Ransom,” Linda cuts his thoughts, “We haven’t heard from you two since... Easter? How’s it been?” Linda asked, “Was it the job?” Ransom turned his head to his mother. “No. I just...” He looked over to Y/N who wasn’t even gonna help him with this. Everyone knew they probably argued through those whole months.

“We just wanted some time on our own. You know? We went out to the store, went out for walks. Right, babe?” The way he said ‘babe’, Y/N knew he wanted to get her attention but also a warning tone to let her know, if she mentions something to the family, she’ll end up somewhere.

Her eyes look over to him in the most annoyed face that he would’ve knocked off her face. She smiled at his mother, “Yes. He bought me these boots,” She lifted up her ankle to show off the dark brown leather boots that went with her dark jeans, a sweater and a tan coat.

To be honest, she felt disgusted to be twinning close with Ransom’s outfit.

Linda smiled at them, “How lovely, Ransom. You have taste.”

“She gets what she wants,” He says in a monotone, taking his gaze back to her once again. Y/N looked at him, seeing the cold stare that she had given it back at him. Silence fell between them again and Linda changed the subject with Walt’s family.

Y/N wanted to go to bed at that hour, now. Not wanting to hear his stupid voice and have her name slip past his lips again. She went for her glass but realized it was empty and she stood up. Catching her stand up, Ransom watched her head into the kitchen. He then stands up and follows her, excusing himself as he makes his way over.

Y/N dug through the wine cellar shelf, looking over the bottles and pulled the one she wanted and turned to the counter, only to face Ransom on the other end of it.

She pulls out a corkscrew and twisted it into the cork. “What do you want now?” She asked, blankly. Ransom tapped his fingers on the counter and walked around. “I know what you’re doing,” He says. Y/N pops the cork out and drops it on the counter.

“Oh, yeah?” She pours the wine into her glass. His body was now standing behind her.

“You think being with my family can stop me from taking you here right now,” Y/N felt the belt of his pants catch hers, his lower half on her behind. “Stop.” Y/N placed her hands flat on the counter, the warning tone tied in her voice. If he urged more, a bit more, she would slap him into the pits of hell.

His head lowers, “Stop is just tempting me, honey.” His hand reaches under and grabs her throat, turning her to face him, her glass falls to the ground with a shatter. The dark red liquid spreading across the wooden floor as Y/N gasped.

“Y/N? Ransom?” Linda called. Ransom kept his grip on her neck, Y/N’s breathing was getting shaky. “Ransom, let go,” She grabs his wrist. Ransom didn’t release because of her plead, he lets go from Linda’s voice getting closer.

“Y/N, darling, what’s-? Oh, my goodness,” Y/N whips around to face Linda while Ransom takes his steps over to the other side of the counter. Linda goes for the broken glass as Y/N kneels down. “Linda, I’m so sorry. I just bumped it and I-”

“It’s okay. We have lots of these glasses, I’m not complaining.”

“If it were the wine, it’d be a completely different story,” Y/N manages to joke, Linda laughs lightly as the two pick up the glass. “Let’s get this cleaned up,” Linda said. Y/N looks up to Ransom who stood behind his mother a few feet away, staring at Y/N.

Y/N could see the cold stare behind his eyes as it sends chills up her spine. He then walks out of the kitchen, leaving you and Linda to clean up the mess. Another bad family get together with the asshole.

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving was more special to anyone else. It was something to be thankful of. Fuck that. Y/N wasn’t thankful for that asshole. She wanted to be there, even Harlan’s 85th birthday was coming up.

If Ransom picks up another damn fight, he’ll be stuffed with anything Y/N sees on that table. She’ll cut him up like a turkey, find a wishbone and wish for something better than him.

Complete asshole.

He forcefully had to have her in his arms on their way in. Hands laced in each other, she wanted to bite off his pinky finger, maybe shove that stupid metal ring down his throat as well.

Linda gently greeted the couple, saving Y/N from behind held hand in hand with Ransom as she gave her a hug.

Just after the chatting, Y/N and Ransom sat next to each other at the table with the family. Meg sat next to Y/N with her mother, Joni. Jacob and his parents on the other side with Marta and Harlan. The table was long and Richard sat at the end of the table across from his wife, Linda.

“How ‘bout we say what we are thankful for?” Linda asked. Ransom and Richard both groan, “Honey, no-”

“Mom, that whole thankful thing is just old, can we just eat?” Ransom says, Y/N rolls her eyes. Linda sighs. “I’m sure you’re thankful for what you have, Ransom,” She says. Ransom looks at Y/N with a blank expression. “Yeah...” Y/N looks at him. “Very,” He says.

Y/N reached for the salad dressing across from her, reaching for the spoon, she felt her chair jerk and she felt her arm rub against Ransom’s sweater. He had scooted her chair closer to him. He was keeping his eyes on his plate as he ate away.

Rolling her eyes, she reached for the dressing once again and managed to get it on her salad before digging in for the mash potatoes. Adding/Not adding the gravy, she dug in, maybe added some turkey to her plate. She poured herself some champagne as everyone ate and talked. Some laughter came out of the family, some gossip about a few people who weren’t in the family.

Y/N would kick Ransom’s leg once in a while when he placed it by hers very closely.

An hour had passed and only a few had finished their meals. Some even having a second plate. Y/N was still eating her due to the talking that prevented her from eating it. She felt Ransom’s hand reach up to her knee. She flinched away and faced him.

She saw his hand retract and she fixed her position in her seat, keeping her legs close. Another try happened a few minutes after the first. She felt his hand on her knee and before she could move it, his heel jabs into her shin. She hisses under her fork and glared at Ransom.

“You okay, Y/N?” Linda asked, peeping over to look at her. Y/N nods, “The turkey... it’s a bit hot,” Y/N laughs softly. Ransom dragged his hand up. This asshole can’t get a fucking hint that she clearly doesn’t need this right now.

Fuck off.

She felt her dress lift up and she immediately jumps up from her seat causing the conversations to pause. She swallowed thickly, “Sorry.” And with that she scattered for the bathroom. Ransom tried to look confused and gently stood up, “Sorry. She’s usually not like this, I’ll be back, mom,” He stands up and walks out.

Once he left the room, his face darkens and darts for the bathroom she scattered off to.

Y/N stumbled on her heels and stopped to pull them off. Quickly, finding the bathroom and opens the door. Closing it, the door catches something and she looks down to see Ransom’s foot and he pushes the door open. Y/N backs up as he closes the door and locks it.

“Ransom-” She gasps when he grabs her wrist. “Let go of me, Hugh.”

“Don’t call me that!” He shouts. Y/N shoves him forward, pushing him against the wall, she throws her fist towards his face. Returning it, he clenches his fist and hits back. Y/N falls onto her knees, facing away from him as she gasps for air.

Her jaw felt awfully painful. She spits and blood splatters onto the ground. That’s the first time she’s seen blood caused by him. She stands up, turning to him. His eyes burning in flames, he noticed the blood on her lips.

“You’re an asshole,” She chokes out, his shoulders drop slowly, “You always were.” Y/N pushes passed him and unlocks the door, allowing her to leave, he stood there in the bathroom. A minute later, he turns back. Y/N rushes down the stairs to see Linda, “Darling, what’s going on? Are you okay?” Y/N walks by her.

“I’m okay, Linda, I’m gonna head home.”

“But will you be there for my father’s birth-”

“Y/N! Get back here!” Ransom shouts, he storms down the stairs. Y/N drops her heels and runs, the dogs barking as she walked out the gates and Ransom stopped at the porch. “Y/N!” He shouts. Jaw tensed in anger, he growls, going to his car. “Ransom, tell me what the hell is going on!” Linda calls to him. He ignores her and jumps into his car. “Ransom!”

He drives off, going on the search for Y/N.

Of course, he didn’t find her. Weird how she just left and just a minute after she had already ran miles. He gave up and drove back home. Y/N would return eventually, she had nowhere to go. Her family was on the other side of the state. The only money she could get was from Ransom. He made them share bank accounts. Which was stupid.

Fuck.

She had to go back. Maybe not go back to Ransom but to his family. No, no. That’ll make them ask questions why Ransom had hit her. She heard a honk and turned to see Marta’s car.

“Y/N? Where’s Ransom?” She asked, Y/N swallowed and sighed. “I need a place to stay.” Marta sat in the car to think, a few seconds later, she nods. “Okay, get in.”

Y/N opens the door and steps in.

Thanksgiving was not so good either.

A few months later

The family was all back together. This was the worse one yet. Harlan was reported that he committed suicide in his own room but Detective Blanc suspected it was a murder.

Y/N was put into this since she knew Harlan, she even was there at his birthday. If you were wondering, she completely ignored Ransom. Luckily, he kept his distance and then argued with his grandfather in their office.

“Miss L/N, can we speak to you for a moment?” Blanc asks, Y/N glanced up at the three men while Ransom loudly crunches the crackers he had in his hand. She stood up and walked over to the other room for the interrogation.

“So what is your full name?”

“My name is Y/N M/N L/N,” She replies. Blanc looks down at his hands, “What was your relationship with the family?”

Y/N sits up straighter and sighs, “I’m Ransom’s girlfriend.”

“Mhm. How long have you two been together?”

“We’ve work in the same business for about 3 years but in our partner relationship, about a year and a half,” Y/N says. Blanc nods, “Have you and Mr. Drysdale been into a lot of arguments?”

“Yes, I’m afraid we’ve had our disagreements,” Y/N said. Blanc rolls up his sleeves and leans forward. “Has Ransom ever laid a hand on you?”

Shit. What did the Thrombey’s say to him?

“We are just asking,” Blanc holds his hands up. She had to say something. If she said yes, it would go bad. “No,” She said. Blanc cranes his head, she shakes her head, “No, he would never do that.”

Blanc nods slowly, “How much did you know about Harlan? Have you spoken to him before?”

“When I first met him, Ransom never really introduced me to him so I did myself. He was such a sweetheart.” Blanc nods once again, “Where were you on the day of his death? The day of his 85th birthday.”

Y/N swallows, “I was currently in the kitchen, getting myself some wine while Ransom was having a conversation with Harlan. After that, he stormed out of the house, leaving me behind.”

“One way to treat a woman like that,” Blanc says. Y/N nods. “Yeah.” She looks over to the hall where the family was at. Spotting Ransom’s head peaking over the chair before he turns his head away.

Y/N sighs. “Well, thank you, Miss L/N for your honesty. I’m sure you’ll be okay,” Blanc shakes her hand. “Thank you, Detective.” Then she was on her way. Walking over to the room with the family, she began to walk around Ransom, till he catches her arm.

“Come sit here,” He bounces his leg and Y/N stared at him. He looks around. “All the other seats are taken.”

“Ransom, leave the woman alone,” Linda says. Ransom looks over to his mother and dramatically lets go of her wrist as Y/N stood further away from him as he eyed her up and down.

The day continued at the Thrombey’s home. The family had been asking about the inheritance, everything, the money, the house. It all comes down to this. Y/N shouldn’t be here.

She doubt that she wouldn’t get this inheritance. Sure she loved Harlan, made a few jokes and chatted with him more than she did with the others. But she wouldn’t get this money. She wasn’t in the family.

Harlan’s lawyer cuts open the file of what Harlan had place the name of the new owner of his inheritance.

The family all waited, holding hands or hoping in their mind what the cut they’ll get out of it. Each family member has some beef with Harlan. Walt being fired, Joni begging for money for Meg, Richard who knows what along with Ransom. Y/N didn’t know the Drysdale men’s deals with Harlan.

She could care less.

“Oh, wow... this is not too complex, this will be quick,” The lawyer says, causing Linda to make a ‘hmph’ sound. “I, Harlan Thrombey, being of sound, mind and body, ya-da-ya-da-ya-da...” Y/N was leaning on the door next to Marta. Ransom sat in the corner with his chin resting on his palm.

“I hereby, direct, that all my assets both liquid and otherwise, I leave the entirety to... Martha Cabrera and Y/N L/N.”

Holy shit. Marta and Y/N look at each other in disbelief. Y/N knew she wouldn’t be involved with Harlan’s inheritance because she barely knew him. Unless that one day.

“Is Ransom treating you well, Miss L/N?” Harlan asked, she sighs, “It’s getting there. We get into fights a lot and it worries me cause if he were to leave, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

Harlan gives her the gentle smile, “I’m sure if that happens, you’ll be in good shape.”

He really gave her half of what the inheritance was with Marta. Y/N didn’t even realize the family began to look at her and Marta in disbelief. “What?” Joni asks. Walt stands up, asking for the paper. Y/N looks at Marta and they both share the same glance.

How could Harlan do this to them? I mean, Marta was living in a small home and she barely had money for her family together and Y/N wasn’t like Marta but did Harlan feel guilty of having Ransom being with her?

Ransom chuckles at the family who all scattered around the lawyer for the truth, which Walt read, Y/N and Marta’s names were printed on that form.

Ransom then cackles as he stands up, walking over towards Y/N but she watched him pass her, laughing on his way out. “Alan, you can take this piece of paper and shove it right up your ass and get out!” Linda turns to the cops. Y/N couldn’t handle the screams.

Oh no. She deal with it any longer.

Linda loved Y/N in the family, now she just turned sour in front of her.

“We are the Thrombey’s, god dammit! This is still out house!” Linda pauses as the whole family stares back at Alan who flinched. “Oh... and I leave this house to Marta Cabrera.” Y/N’s eyes widen as Linda gasps. “You little bitch!” Linda growls, Y/N couldn’t handle that much clamoring from all of them and ran out of the house.

Rushing to her car, she pulls out her keys and began to unlock her car. Someone pushes her into her car, “You give me that money you just earned from my grandfather and maybe I’ll give you a deal, give you anything you want.” His hands grip her waist, “Anything.”

“Get off!” She elbows him and gets into her car, closing the door. “Y/N!” Ransom bangs on her window. “Open this door, now!” Y/N turns on her car and drives out of the driveway and down the road.

Wiping the tears from her eyes, everything was too much. Harlan shouldn’t have done that. He pitied for her. Ransom was an asshole, yes, but Harlan didn’t have to give that money to her.

All she needed was a damn drink.

An hour had passed and so far no one had bothered to look for her. Soon if Marta would need her, she would call. Y/N regret thinking about that cause now her phone was buzzing. Opening her phone, she sees a text message.

Marta: Ransom’s been taken by the police.

Y/N lifted from the stool and immediately called. “Marta? What the hell happened?”

“What?” Y/N asked.

Blanc walks forward towards Y/N, “That’s right. Ransom had swapped the contents of Marta's medication vials so she would kill Harlan with an overdose of morphine, making her ineligible to claim his inheritance according to the aforementioned slayer rule,” Blanc says.

Y/N looks over to Ransom who just glared at the detective, “However, Marta, an experienced nurse, administered the correct medicine without reading the labels, and is thus innocent of Harlan's death. After the death was reported as suicide, Ransom anonymously hired me to discover Marta's guilt,” Blanc points.

“Fran later saw Ransom swapping the vials back on the day the funeral for Harlan happened, leaving you, Y/N alone that day. Fran sent him the blackmail note. Ransom soon realizing that Marta had given Harlan the correct medication, Ransom passed on the blackmail note to Marta, removing the address and time. He destroyed the evidence of Marta's innocence by burning down the medical examiner's office and burning Fran's copy of the toxicology report. He drugged Fran with morphine and emailed her location to Marta, planning to frame Marta for Fran's murder. But Marta saved Fran’s life, with a good heart. Not once did she play your game.”

Y/N glanced at Ransom once again, seeing his eyes land on hers in a cold stare.

“Fran’s alive?” Ransom asked. “Oh, yes,” Blanc replies, “Fran who will confirm this very story...” Y/N turns to hear Marta’s phone buzz before she turns and answers the phone.

"Yes?"

Everyone draws their eyes to her. "Doctor, that's great news," Blanc fixes his tie out of his shirt. "We'll be there soon, thank you." Marta turns around, almost happy about something. "She's okay," She's referring to Fran, "She's ready to talk." Ransom seemed to get darker by the second.

"Trooper Wagner, if you could-uh keep Mr. Drysdale in custody while Lieutenant Elliot-" Y/N’s mind goes to Ransom who is completely grudged about one thing in the case. He seemed to feel very upset of something. As if he wanted to say one last thing.

"All right. Up, come on," The officer says, Ransom stands up from his seat and went to reach for his coat. His eyes go to Marta once again. "I'm gonna say this just to you. No cameras. No courtroom. Just you, cause you know it's true," He walks up to Marta, "We allowed you into our home. We let you watch our granddad, we welcomes you into our family. And you think you can steal it from us? You think I'm not gonna fight to protect my home? Our birthright? Our ancestral family home?" Blanc begins to laugh causing you all to look over.

"You bought this place in the '80s from a Pakistan real estate-"

"Oh! Shut up, Blanc. Shut! Up! With that Kentucky-fried-foghorn-leghorn-drawl!" He drags out the drawl, "Yeah, I killed Fran, but I guess I didn't. So what do you have on me? Nothing-what? Attempted murder? I get arson for the building and a few other charges, with a good lawyer-Which I have! I'll be out in no time."

Marta again. "And then we'll see, just how much hell I can reek on your life, you vicious little. Bitch," He glares at Marta. “Eat shit, Ransom,” Y/N snaps. Ransom turns to her.

Standing just a feet away from Marta, the couple hear Marta’s stomach rumble, her throat clenches and Y/N know what happens next. Ransom drops his face into confusion and seconds later she vomits right in his face. Everyone jumps up, Ransom backs up as Y/N kneels down to help Marta but she holds her hand up.

"Oh!" Ransom groans, "What the shit?!" He completely blind but tries to open his eyes. Y/N gasps, “Or that.”

"That means she's lying!" Trooper says. "Yeah. Yeah, we know..." The other one says. "That's right," Marta says, "Fran's dead."

Ransom looks over, mouth agape as Marta looks up at him. "And you just confessed her murder." Marta stands up as Y/N helps her.

Ransom laughs, "Well..." He wipes his nose, "In for a penny."

Y/N see Ransom reach for one of the knives, attempting to kill once again. Y/N was quick enough to shove Marta away. "No!" His hand grabs Y/N’s shoulder and her hand grabs his wrist. Ransom had them fall back as the blade inches closer to where her heart was. The group hears the knife sink down, Ransom's body on top of hers. Y/N’s eyes blown wide in fear and shock, her breath was held in for a horrified scream.

She could smell the stomach acid on his face but she was more worried about the blade but nothing felt like it seeped out. Unless the woman was too shocked and felt numb below the neck.

His brows furrow, not seeing her eyes shut close or her body slowly dropping the tension in every muscle. His breathing slowly became less heavier. Y/N finally took a breath and it confused him more. He looks down to where the blade should've been. He lifts the knife slowly as it makes a grinding sound when a chef sharpens a knife and he pokes it into his girlfriend’s chest, finally realizing it was a retractable stage knife.

He looks up to her terrified eyes before muttering, "Shit." The officers grab Ransom's shoulders and pulled him away from her. Y/N laid there on the ground in fear, hand holding onto the blade. A man who had beaten her, was proven guilty for he murder of Fran.

Marta comes down and gently pulls Y/N up. “It’s okay,” Marta says, she gently held her shoulders. Shaking under her touch, all she did was stare in front of her. Ransom calling out to Y/N bringing the tears down her cheeks now.

An asshole turned out to be a murderer.

Eat shit, Hugh Ransom Drysdale.

~~~~~~~~~

TAGS OF A FEW RANDOMS!: @jtargaryen18 @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @chrisevans-imagines @chrisevans-source

#chris evans #ransom drysdale x reader #dark!ransom drysdale x reader #dark!random drysdale #chris evans x reader #cevans #marvel #knives out #knivesout #thanksgiving #easter #fourthofjuly #clue #steve rogers

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chrisevansgoodgirl · 4 years

Text

it isn’t that hard to like you or love you. i’d follow you down, down, down

summary: ransom’s an insecure bitch TM and there’s no character development happening here. (mostly before that other ransom thing I wrote, but a small peak after bc i couldn’t resist)

warnings: sex toys. a lot. and a lot of sex. and you know, ransom always entails some weird, rough shit, so.

word count: a little over 10,300

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

It had been years since you’d felt something inside you other than Ransom*. (x)

*Seriously. Years.

Your relationship with Ransom didn’t have the purest start. The ski-lodge was something both of your families looked at as a restart for the year, almost a form of damage control. He needed to stop partying so much and you needed to settle down. His group included his parents, Joni, Meg, Walt, Donna, and Jacob. He told you later that they never invited Harlan because this was usually their time to get wasted and say terrible things about him.

Your group was your mother, father, his two sisters, their husbands, a few of their children, and your boyfriend, Jeremy Vanderbilt. You hadn’t invited him, however, that was your father’s doing. Why? Because he was smart. He was a businessman. And Jeremy was nowhere near as attractive as you—at least, that was what you heard Dad tell Mom one night—so, there was no chance of him leaving you for someone else.

You’d confided to your father that the relationship wasn’t going well. You’d met Jeremy in high school and yes, you’d recognized that he wasn’t the most attractive man, but he was sweet, and you just got along with him. As time went on and you discovered he had absolutely no ambition, you worried that you were just going to be stuck with a sad replica of your parents’ life.

Eventually, your father would give him a job at the family company—a position that should be yours but never would be, never mind that, though. You would be a model up until he got you pregnant, the absolute last thing you wanted right now, and then you’d spend the rest of your life bitter and unsatisfied, tolerance would soon turn to resentment and you’d probably kill him one Christmas Eve with an axe. You wanted more, you wanted exciting.

Ransom was…in a way, exciting. Though the first week you’d been made aware of his unfortunate existence, you tried to avoid him like the plague. It started when your families were checking in, which happened to occur at the same time--something you often thought about because if it had just happened at a completely different time, you might have never met the Thrombeys. You might have never met Ransom. Now, you weren't sure you believed in soul mates or anything like that, but it always just kind of seemed like fate to you.

You were trying to get out of the lobby as fast as possible, just retire to your room because the trip up there was nothing short of sickening. Mindlessly, you’d walked into Ransom and because you were an actual person, began apologizing. Since he was just a beast, not a person, he was a total dick about it.

Whatever, you had encountered that a lot. People with money were often the worst. It didn’t bother you all that much. By the time you were in your room, soaking in a bath, you had completely erased it from your mind.

You didn’t see him again until three nights later when you pretended you needed to take a call outside to duck out of a dreadful dinner. Meg was there and she was in desperate need of something to smoke, which you happened to have on you. She was nice, telling you about how she intended to start college in January after spending two years on a break to try to figure out what she wanted to do.

When Ransom appeared, he was radiating arrogance. And heavy intoxication. He instantly started in on Meg, making every comment he could think of to get under her skin. Maybe it was that you guys had been out there smoking for nearly half an hour that diffused her anger, but she refused to engage and returned inside.

At that point, he had nothing to focus on but you. He’d asked for your name and you told him to fuck off. From that moment, Ransom showed an interest in you that you simply did not understand.

You refused to play his games for a while. You liked Meg, she was nice, unlike the rest of the family. And Ransom constantly tried to antagonize her. But see, your family and his family were the only obscenely rich families there at the moment. Most people were likely in Colorado, unfortunately, your moronic father insisted on Utah. Linda was an elitist, and well, you guys were all officially best friends.

It started with joint dinners, then breakfasts, then it was every god damn meal of the day. Your mother, Linda, and Joni needed to get away from their husbands constantly. Richard, your father, one of your mother's sisters, and Walt liked cigars and card games and would disappear anywhere they could to play out some pathetic knock-off casino scene. Meg loved the children and didn't mind babysitting, something you helped with when you could. Oh, and Ransom had taken quite an interest in Jeremy.

He hadn't really been around much at the start. You'd heard he was making his way through the female staff anyway, just trying to cause as much drama as he possibly could. No one in the Thrombey family seemed surprised and they didn't comment on it at all. Your family had the decency to wait until you were all in your rooms and could gossip about it behind their backs.

But then he did start showing up. Whenever Jeremy would hug you, kiss you, or just try to touch you in any unnecessary way, Ransom would give you this knowing look. That was around the time you started trying to pull away but that was only annoying Jeremy and sometimes Ransom would find you alone and you had no excuse to leave. You would have to admit that you were scared to be alone with him. You would have to admit why.

He was gorgeous, that was why. And dangerous and had clearly never heard the word 'no' before. You wanted to be the one to introduce him to the concept but you doubted your ability to tell him no.

One night, when Jeremy came to bed drunk and very handsy, you ended up screaming at each other. He was a drunk idiot with impaired judgment so you were the one that left the scene. It was stupid, but you decided to look for Ransom. Maybe you had wanted to tell him to stop getting your boyfriend drunk or maybe you just knew you had an alibi for not returning to your room that night. Not like Jeremy would be awake any time soon anyway.

Nothing happened, not really, you made it very clear that you were still with your boyfriend. But Ransom knew how to get all the information about your life that he wanted. Surprisingly, at some point, he started telling you some things back. He hated his family and you hated yours.

Perfect match.

Now, you guys would sit next to each other at those family breakfasts and dinners and whisper condescending things about everyone, Jeremy included. One thing you noticed, Ransom was a lot nicer to Meg and you figured it was because he knew it made you uncomfortable. In fact, Joni and Meg were the only people at the whole table who you could tolerate for more than two hours. Jeremy was starting to notice your new friendship, but what was he going to do about it?

One night, which would turn out being your last night at the lodge, Ransom showed up at nearly three in the morning. You'd figured he was with your boyfriend as you were alone, but he showed up solo.

You were hardly in anything, it was late, late enough that you wanted to hit him for being there—however, manners, you assumed, were foreign to him.

Amid a snarky comment you could no longer remember, he just moved forward and kissed you. You shoved at him, walking backward until you were forced to stop at the entertainment center in the main living room. He grabbed your face, holding you there, making it impossible to pull away from him. It was then that you sort of just crumbled, you wrapped your arms around his neck, a cue for him to pick you up.

He did, grabbing one thigh at a time and hauling your body up so your exposed cunt brushed against the stupid sweater he was wearing. He set you atop the entertainment center and you dropped your hands to his pants, yanking them out of your way. His hand found your center and he groaned when he felt how wet you were.

"Damn, is that all for me?"

You snorted. "I was fucking my fingers when you rudely interrupted."

He grabbed your jaw, locking his eyes with yours. "You’re going to show me that before I leave."

Without patience, he used one of his hands to shove yours away and pulled himself out of his pants.

You were going to turn down but he used his hold on your jaw. "Just keep looking at me, baby."

You felt his tip against your skin, he began to run it through your slit, just barely brushing your clit every now and then. "Ransom, please—"

He slipped in just barely and you gasped. The head of his cock alone was a stretch you’d never quite felt.

You eagerly spread your legs further. "Keep going."

He slid in just a little more, groaning. "Fuck, you are tight."

And he was huge, but you could not tell a guy like Ransom that. He made you keep looking at him as he continued giving you more of his cock. His eyes showed pleasure, amusement, and definitely mischief. He wanted you surprised, it was why he didn’t let you look. You thought several times that you truly couldn't take any more of him but you knew that letting him know that would just get you that smug smirk, so you kept your mouth shut.

He gave you all the time you needed to adjust to him. He kissed you until you were the one bucking your hips and squirming. Then he fucked you hard and rough, and it was disgusting. He used you like you were a doll, whispering filthy things in your ear and sometimes making you say some back. He pulled your hair and choked you.

When you could hardly keep holding on to him, he decided it was time to go. He scooped you up and carried you to your bed, and didn’t cover your body or clean his cum off of you because he wanted Jeremy to find you.

Which he did, and by the time you woke up the next morning, everyone was packing. Jeremy had told your family about it and everyone knew immediately that it was Ransom. Your parents were furious, your aunts were entertained, and Jeremy was heartbroken. You’d never been a cheater so you had no idea what the hell to say to him. It didn’t seem like he’d wanted you to try anyway so you just shut up while everyone around you moved to get out of here quickly.

When your mother and her sisters went to lunch, you decided to head down to one of the many coffee shops. You took your youngest niece with you because she couldn’t help pack and you hardly wanted to be alone. With some coloring books and a wide collection of colored pencils, you guys settled in.

She was telling you all about her favorite tv show as you sipped on a latte. You’d order her a hot chocolate that she’d already downed like the demon she was.

As you looked up to ask a server for another hot chocolate, you spotted Meg. She waved at you and you were just hit with this terrible idea. You told your niece to stay at the table and you would return with more hot chocolate. After a little small talk with Meg, and a dismissive hello from Linda, you’d asked if you could borrow Meg's phone. Per your lie, your boyfriend was supposed to meet you and your niece but had yet to show and you’re phone had died.

You slipped outside and searched for Ransom’s number. Thankfully, even though she clearly hated him, she had it. You pretended to make the call and then headed back inside. You returned to your table with some hot chocolate and sat back down to color again. Everything was normal, you had not made any irreversible mistakes as of yet.

Emphasis on yet, however. When you guys returned up to the room, Jeremy was on the phone trying to get a separate flight from the rest of you. As soon as he’d seen you, he headed out onto the balcony and slammed the door shut behind him. Good.

You disappeared into your bedroom, he wouldn’t dare step in there. You slipped into a cream-colored lacy bodysuit that actually covered nothing and hopped onto your mattress. You took several videos and faked even more orgasms, your only concern was that the videos looked good. Ransom had said he was going to watch you touch yourself before he’d left. Maybe he’d forgotten, but you didn’t exactly want him to.

You weren’t sure you had a winner but you had to stop when your father banged on your door and gruffly told you it was time to leave. Later, when you located your favorite video, you sent it. No name or explanation. You just included: you’re welcome. Blocking your number, by the way. Xoxo

Three days later, once you were home and back in your apartment, just trying to work and avoid the embarrassment of all your friends knowing you’d cheated on your boyfriend, there was a knock on your door. No one knew where you lived, it was a small, cozy place not meant for anyone but you.

Opening the door, you were not expecting to see Ransom there. "You didn't say goodbye."

You snorted. "I would have assumed you would be used to getting fucked and then forgotten about."

He smirked before glancing around. His expression soon showed his distaste. "Are you poor or something?"

"It’s meant to keep away the rich."

"You know, I woulda called..."

But you’d blocked him. "Some would take that to mean that I just didn’t want you to come at all."

"Well, I don’t much care about what other people want."

You’d been living together a month when he had located one of your toys. You thought he’d be excited to bring something in for just a little extra when you two were fucking. Nope, you were very wrong.

He was irritated beyond comprehension. He took your favorite shower toy—the one with a suction cup—stuck it on a kitchen chair and made you sit on it. For hours. Not allowed to move or touch yourself. All while he told you what he would do to you. You know, if you were a good girl. Which, according to him, you were very much not.

He’d then proceeded not to fuck you for a week. Seven motherfucking days. Despite your best attempts. Joining him in the shower. Blowing him in the Beamer. Sending pictures. Leaving voicemails begging him to let you feel him inside of you. Not a thing could crack his resolve.

Well, except you pouting about it on that 7th day. It was Christmas. You were watching Cartoon Network, waiting for the bests. Thinking back, you were sure it was in addition to the stress he felt over having to deal with his family. But whatever, he’d still fucked you and you’d still been three hours late to the annual Christmas party.

He’d proudly told everyone it was because your cunt was the only present he’d wanted and didn’t care when you nearly choked on your wine because of it. Donna tried to throw a chair at him afterward, imploring him to consider the children present. Not that Jacob had even heard, as he was too busy on Twitter. He did live stream the fight, though, claimed it got turned into a meme.

Even though Ransom didn’t tell you why you weren’t a “good girl”, you’d figured it was his insane pride. Ransom would be the kind of guy to freak out over their girlfriend fucking anything else, even inanimate objects. You didn’t get rid of the rest of your toys, you just tried to hide them better.

So, the ones you thought you couldn’t part with were placed in your suitcases because you knew he wouldn’t find them. He had quickly come to terms with your extensive collection. You loved airports and loved being photographed at them, that meant suitcases were of the utmost importance to you. They lined the walls of your closet, the one he had added to his house for you when you moved in—because the idea of you two being able to share a closet was hilarious. He had twice as many sweaters as you and you had more dresses than he had scarves. In short, you guys weren’t interested in sharing closets. A house, a bed, sure. But trying to fit into a single closet probably would have ended your relationship.

Speaking of ending the relationship. You’d walked in, dozens of shopping bags in hand, finding him sitting at the table with your favorite vibrator just inches away from his coffee mug. You’d wanted to know why exactly he was in your closet in the first place! It was your closet, your suitcase! He had no right!

It took a total of three seconds before you were screaming at him. And about ten seconds for him to start screaming back. You were both fans of angry fucking, which was the only reason he’d fucked you then. Bags and new clothing was strewn all around, a chair on its side because he stood up to intimidate you, and you decided to try to kick the chair at him. He pushed it over and then shoved you against the wall.

A blink of an eye later, he had your skirt pushed up and your underwear pulled out of his way. He indelicately thrust into you until you were so, so, so fucking close. But he’d just kept saying wait for me, baby. Just wait a little longer. I want to feel it together. And you being stupid, believed him. You were just about to slip, despite your sheer desperation to experience the pretty picture he was painting, when he pulled out. He stroked himself several times, leaned over to bite down on your shoulder, and then he spilled out onto your skirt, your thighs, and the fucking floor.

He kissed your shoulder, then turned, tucked his cock back in his pants, and left. Oh, but not before he grabbed the vibrator. You didn’t speak to him for eleven days and he didn’t seem to care too much.

This was at the same time your parents were doubling down on their efforts to make you leave him. They constantly introduced you to their friends’ children, men your age who were kind, smart, and a lot less spoiled and entitled than Ransom.

Honestly, that tenth night that you’d fallen asleep alone, you actually considered listening to them. He must have known something was up that morning, because he did actually know you and care about your feelings even if he didn’t act like it. You hadn’t said or done anything differently, you just took your coffee and left for another brunch with your parents.

When you returned to the house, he wasn’t in the living room. That was where he’d been most days, just reading the newspaper and pointedly being okay with your silent treatment. You briefly thought that if he wasn’t there, then it wouldn’t be so hard to pack a few bags. Maybe if he was going to be gone for a few hours, you could get a few great professionals to pack up your closet before he even knew what you were planning.

But then he called your name from the kitchen. You went if only because you were curious. He handed you a diamond necklace, said he was sorry for ruining your skirt. You were utterly speechless. Your skirt? He was apologizing about your skirt?!

You took the necklace but didn’t say a word to him. That night, he’d come home later than you would have wanted, but at least it wasn’t 3 am. He didn’t try to speak first, didn’t look for your permission. He just climbed into bed and pulled you into his chest.

The following time was more than just wounded pride. Okay, it was all wounded pride, but it was on a severe, personal level. Your parents were still trying and you had to tell Ransom. Why? Because one of his female friends that he used to fuck told him that you were out with Maximus Brandt, a “mutual friend” of just about everyone, even though, in reality, no one could stand him. You included. And well, he and Ransom... you didn’t have the time to explain their level of hate for one another.

Ransom was furious at first, then you explained the situation. He didn’t stop being furious, oh no. He instead just changed his reason for being furious. But he claimed he didn’t care. He claimed that he knew he had nothing to worry about and you told him that he was right, you wanted to be with him. You thought that was the end of the issue.

Nope, the following day, while you were at work, Ransom texted you four times.

How many god damn vibrators can a person have?

You hadn’t read it when he first sent it, you didn’t have your phone on you. You were just there for a photoshoot, hopefully, a smooth one. Work hadn’t been great as of late, not so much because of Ransom... it was just that you knew he was insecure. He was never going to admit it, but he was terrified of losing you to someone else. Lately, he’d seen you with other people, people who—per his insane, deranged mind—stared at you affectionately and touched you too comfortably. You weren’t complaining, not exactly. See, because, in his attempt to hide his emotions, he fucked you. A lot. Hard. Always with a hand around your throat, edging you until you finally said that you were his.

You liked those moments. Hell, you even liked afterward when he would either silently hold you on top of him, head on his chest to listen to his heartbeat or when he would set you on his side and play with your hair as he answered the questions you asked about his day. Commonly, it was family drama and he would get so angry and worked up a second time that he would fuck you again. Maybe even again after that. But you didn’t actually like the idea of making him feel like you weren’t completely committed to him.

So, you wanted to get in and get out. Maybe make dinner with Ransom, you planned to wear a tiny dress and tease him the whole time. You occupied your mind wondering where he would break. Inside the fancy restaurant? It wouldn’t be the first time. He loved fingering you at dinner with his family because of course, he was just that kind of asshole. Though...you were the one who hardly ever wore underwear... or maybe outside? He’d fucked you against many buildings, in several alleyways throughout your relationship.

His second text read: now I’ve found your plugs, that’s great.

And the third: tell me where all of these things are. I’m getting rid of them.

You didn’t even glance at your phone until your Uber was taking you home. It was like watching a murder, and by the time the fourth text came in, you were livid.

Fine, don’t tell me. I guess I’ll just have to find them.

You called him 27 times. He didn’t pick up once. You stormed into the house, straight up to your room. There was clothing everywhere, bras, panties, and corsets because he went through the dressers first. And okay, there were a few in there. The travel toys you’d gathered over the years, the vibrating bar necklace your best friend got you last year. They laid on the bed with the easier to find toys, the bigger toys, but also with that discrete lipstick vibrator that you’d hidden away in your makeup box.

He really had gone through most of your shit. "Ransom!"

"Closet," he growled.

You stormed in, shrieking incoherently when you saw your suitcases thrown everywhere. They were all opened, laying on either the floor or one another. Expensive bags were being treated like they were nothing, expensive bags that you had worked to afford.

"I’ve found 19," he informed, not bothering to turn back to you. He was moving to your jewelry box now and would be finding more. "Why don’t you just be helpful and tell me where they all are?"

"What the hell is wrong with you?!"

He didn’t respond.

"This is my closet, Ransom! This is my stuff, you have no right to be in my stuff!"

He finally faced you, eyes narrowed. "This is my house!"

You slapped him. So hard your hand was stinging sharply long after. And ran away like a child throwing a temper tantrum. It took him a moment, but he was soon chasing after you. You practically dove into the guest room before he could reach you. He wouldn’t hit you, never, but he would force you to apologize to him and you weren’t ready to do that yet.

It was definitely not your finest moment, but you just needed to cool down, think about things, plot how you wanted to proceed. You realized, alone in that room with too much time on your hands that this called for true revenge.

He couldn’t just go through your things. This wasn’t his house anymore. It had been, but then he asked you to move in. This was your shared house, just as much yours as it was his. He was not allowed to just go through your possessions. He had no respect for you or your belongings, and this wasn’t going to go unpunished.

You used two days to lure him into a calm, trusting place. He probably thought this was the worst of it: the silent treatment. You would only leave the room if he was gone and made sure to leave obvious signs about it. You wanted him to know that he wasn't preventing you from living in your house. You did, however, refuse to step foot in your shared bedroom.

On the third morning, you found an outfit in the laundry room and went shopping. The terrified look on his face when he saw how many bags you were holding was exactly what you wanted to see. He knew now that you were serious about this. But no apologies were made. Actually, he said you were acting like a brat, then left to hang out with his friends.

Brat? Not yet.

You moved freely for a couple of hours. He’d cleaned the bedroom, made sure your closet was spotless like it had been before he destroyed it—but it was simply too late. You happily stayed in the living room until you heard his car pulling into the driveway, then you dashed to the room to begin. He may have taken all your toys, but he couldn’t stop you from buying more.

You stripped naked and hopped on the bed. Little prep was needed, you’d been wet since you made the almost $500 purchase at the sex shop earlier, thinking about how angry you were going to make Ransom.

You started with a small vibrating plug and let yourself get used to that first. You could hear him moving about the house, slowly, cautiously, trying to see if your revenge was going to be easily spotted. Next, a simple, but larger vibrator that took you a moment to adjust around. You made the mental note to let him know the size—he would be livid. And finally, a vibrator for your clit.

When he knocked on the door, you were well on your way to your first orgasm. You remained as silent as you possibly could for a moment, eager for him to hear the vibrating. Then you tossed your head back and let out a moan. "Oh, fuck!"

"What...what do you think you are doing?" he demanded.

"Well," you sighed, "right now, I have a vibrator on my clit. 10 speed settings...I’m only on the third and I’m already so close."

"Y/N," he warned, "I swear—"

"And one in my pussy," you informed. “It’s so big... I wasn’t sure it was going to fit at first."

"Well, considering my cock fits, I think most things would. You know a fucking toy doesn’t compare to me."

"And a plug." You weren’t going to argue with him. "This one vibrates too. It feels so fucking good."

"Enough, open the damn door."

You turned off the vibrator inside you and pulled it out. "Can you hear how wet I am?" Slowly, you pressed it back in. You watched the toy sink into your pussy and immediately realized something. Maybe Ransom would like to watch as well... You set aside the vibrator that was pressed to your clit and grabbed your phone.

You began fucking yourself with the toy, biting your lip to keep your noises down. You knew Ransom wanted to leave but the loud, wet sounds from your pussy kept him at the door. Even when you couldn’t hear him, you just knew. He wouldn’t leave until he heard you finish.

You turned on the vibration once more and left it, picking up the other once more. You gasped when you settled it back to your clit. You were close, you knew it would just take a moment. You kept the camera aimed where you were working, no longer trying to stifle your moans and whimpers. You knew he was going to hate the sounds you were making because you weren’t saying his name with them.

"Baby?" you called out.

"You are in so much trouble," he asserted. "If you stop now, I might let you finish."

"If I don’t?"

"I swear I won’t make you come for a month."

"Clearly, I don’t need you." Okay, you were bluffing. An entire month not finishing on his cock? That did concern you, but you knew he was also bluffing.

"Open this door. Now."

"Just a second," you breathed. Your finish followed your words almost immediately. "Fuck! Oh, god, Ransom... I think these toys might be as good as you."

The door whipped open, a deafening crack filling the room. Turning your head, you found Ransom standing there, eyes wide and jaw set. He had never looked this angry.

Your mouth dropped when you saw the damage to the doorframe, you would have to call someone out there to fix it. Soon. Because you weren’t sleeping with him. Not unless he apologized and made it up to you. In diamonds and maybe a new car. "What the fuck is wrong with you?! You just kicked in the door, like, you're fucking ridiculous."

He stormed over to you, yanking the toy from your hand and tossing it on the bed. He pulled the second one from your clenching center, free hand gripping your thigh hard when he noticed how difficult it was to pull free from your tight pussy—god, he was going to miss that because no way in hell was he going to fuck you after this behavior. Finally, he pulled your plug out and you whimpered.

He glared at you.

Smirking, you held your phone out. "Watch the video I made for you, baby."

He tore it from your hand and did just that. He was already hard, you could see the bulge in his pants.

Sitting up, you reached out for him.

He slapped at your hand. "Don’t touch me."

"Fine." You laid back down, dipping your fingers into your folds.

He quickly noticed what you were doing, taking your wrist in his hand and holding it. "Stop."

You snorted, rolling your eyes.

He watched the entire thing and you knew his control was slipping, his fingers were digging into your skin—you couldn’t wait to see the bruises.

He threw your phone on the bed and turned back to you. "What the hell am I going to do with you?"

"You’ve never fucked my ass, you know that?"

His eyebrows pulled together. "You never asked."

"Wanna do it now?" You pulled your wrist away from him and rolled over, pushing your hips back to offer your ass up to him. "You can..."

"If?"

"If you apologize."

You were startled by his hand whipping across your ass. You rolled back over to face him, eyes wide. "What the fuck?!"

He grabbed your left calf and caught your right foot when you tried to kick him.

"Did you just spank me?!"

"You were acting like a brat." He yanked you down close to the edge of the bed and before you could say a word, his lips were against yours.

You had started to push him away by the shoulders but when he shoved his tongue into your mouth, you started pulling him back in. Your fingers tugged at his shirt, tangled in his hair and pulled, touched his jaw and cheekbones.

You guys didn’t make out often, the kisses were brief because Ransom was impatient and sometimes just needed to fuck you.

He began to lay his body onto yours. You instantly wrapped your legs around him, grinding your bare pussy against his pants. He grabbed a handful of hair and tore your head back. His lips and teeth were all over your neck, moving down to your breasts.

"Ransom." Your hands found the button of his pants and you tore them open. "Fuck me."

He pulled away completely, leaving you on the bed as he re-buttoned his pants. "No."

You scoffed. "No?"

"No," he repeated. He hurriedly grabbed the toys on the bed before you could and left.

"So, you’ll take care of yourself?" you called out. "I could just use my mouth."

You heard his steps stutter, then he continued stomping away. Well, you hadn’t anticipated this turn of events, but you weren’t overly concerned. If you needed, you had fingers. If you were really desperate, you had a shower with a detachable showerhead.

For almost three weeks, Ransom would not let anyone enter the house to fix the door.

Meaning for those three weeks, he would also sneak into bed with you. His mouth and fingers touched your pussy until you woke up. Then he would stop and just lay down next to you, refusing to let you sleep any place other than locked in his arms and against his chest.

You were furious but all of that was going to have to be placed on hold. Oddly, as much as you two fought, it never really coincided with your period. Though, you had a theory about why that was.

Ransom, control freak, had to know what was going on with your body at all times. Initially, you didn’t know what to make of it. It was always a toss-up with these rich, white men—were they going to be insanely immature about something as small as a period? Much to your surprise, not Ransom.

When you weren’t living together, he would always text you to make sure you were doing okay. If you weren’t, he would bring you food and something very expensive. When you were living together, it was impossible for him not to notice the more worrisome symptoms—the cramps, the headaches. The first two days were really the worst, you generally avoided leaving the house at the start.

That morning, Ransom found you in bed, curled up in a ball with your hand pressed to your forehead. As if that was going to ease the insane amount of pressure you felt behind your eyes. Thing was, you were supposed to be at work. That was one of the better things about only working for friends and trusted associates—they never thought you were calling in simply because you were hungover or something else even more unprofessional that was often associated with models.

"Thought you had a shoot today," he said.

"I had to cancel."

"Why?"

You didn’t answer. Shouldn’t he know by now? You really wouldn’t be surprised if he had a calendar marked with the expected dates.

"Oh."

But then, you guys had been fighting for how long? He probably missed it.

Those first few times he witnessed the cramps, he was actually immensely nurturing. It wasn’t like he had any responsibilities, so he sat with you in bed and let you lay on him, your back to his chest. He would place his hands on you and they were always so warm, you would just melt into him.

That soon changed. You had been in bed together one morning, it seemed just like any other time. But noon came and he told you to get out of bed and into the shower. You thought you were dying, you sure as hell couldn’t shower. But he would not accept that answer.

You weren’t sure why until he had the front of your body pressed to the tile wall, his hands on your hips as he fucked you so. So. So. Fucking. Slow. And after, he grabbed a few towels, set them over the bed, and laid you down to continue. You were confused and let him know, and all he said was that he’d read it would help with the cramps and the headache.

It had helped, but you figured it was a distraction more than anything. After that, it was just routine. Not that you didn’t have sex with him most nights, but he insisted on, every night of your period, fucking you until you were nearly unconscious. Those were the only nights he was gentle.

He sat down next to you, fingers brushing over your shoulder.

You recoiled from his touch. "Go away."

"Come on, baby, you know I can’t just leave you in pain like this." You heard him start to undress but made no moves to do the same. When he laid down next to you, he tried to urge you onto your back with a hand pulling on your shoulder.

"Ransom, stop. I’m not kidding."

He sighed, leaning over to kiss your face. "Let me help."

"You can help by leaving."

His warmth and the blanket you were curled up in lessened your resolve by a lot. He found it much easier to pull your shoulder away from your face, which he took full advantage of and began kissing over all of the skin he could reach.

"Ransom," you whined, trying to roll further away from him. He held you back by a hand on your hip.

"Shut up." Over the blanket, his hand slid up your stomach to your breast.

You hated that you moaned. Your brain knew you would regret this, but your body wanted nothing more than to give in to him. It was Ransom, after all, he was a complete tool sometimes but he always knew how to touch you.

He pulled the blanket down your body until he got to the hem of your sleep bottoms.

"Ransom, stop," you scolded. "I don’t want to ruin the sheets."

"Doesn’t matter, you won’t be sleeping in here anymore."

You turned your head back, catching his hand in yours. "Excuse me?"

"I said you’re done sleeping in here," he repeated. "You’ll be sleeping in our bed again."

"No, actually, I won’t."

He pulled his hand away from you and yanked the blanket away.

"Ransom!" You attempted to start sitting up but he pulled you back down by the shoulder.

Next, he worked on getting your underwear out of his way. There was nothing hot about this—you were wearing a pad because you didn’t want to have to get out of bed for a while and you were probably bleeding heavily. How could he be turned on at all?

He crawled down the mattress until he had your lower half completely free of clothing. He was only wearing his boxers now, the proof of his arousal the only thing you could focus on. You hated this, really, you did...but you knew how good he was about to make you feel...this wasn’t the worst way to deal with your period.

He didn’t want to give you the chance to argue so he quickly returned back to his spot at your back. His large hand pulled at the inside of your thigh, guiding your leg over his hips.

You tried not to want this, not to want him, but you were weak. He wasn’t all bad, you supposed. There was that time he took you to Paris for your birthday, the first one you shared with him. There was that time your parents were sick and had guilted you into taking care of them and the house while they couldn’t, and Ransom had shown up to help—forget all the snark and attitude he received from both you and your parents. And even though you were a completely functioning adult who could do anything for yourself and your career, Ransom was practically your bodyguard. Modeling was hard sometimes. People touched you, they looked at you. And you could always tell when it wasn’t appropriate. Ransom never blamed you, never told you that you’d done something to encourage it. He was unlike past partners in that way.

As he shoved his boxers down, you turned your head back to him.

"What? You okay, you need something?"

You leaned toward him further, paying no mind to the discomfort in your side at the odd angle you were turning yourself. "Just you."

He arched an eyebrow.

You set your hand to his face, fingers gliding along his cheek, under his eye, over his forehead. Why was he so beautiful? Who decided that this man should be given a face like this?

"You sure you’re okay?" he wondered, arm sliding over your waist to pull you in closer.

"My parents think that being with you is a bad decision. That's why they're doing all this shit."

"Yeah, they’re probably right about that."

You shook your head. "You take care of me."

He shrugged a shoulder. "We take care of each other. Now, are you done being sappy? I’d like to fuck you."

You huffed. "Well, that was a rare sweet moment. Thanks for ruining it."

He smiled. "Any time, baby."

Your breath caught when you felt him at your entrance. There was something different about fucking on your period. Maybe it was that you didn’t need the hour of foreplay to be able to take Ransom’s cock semi-comfortably. Or maybe it was just the misplaced intimacy of the whole ordeal. You didn’t hate it, hell, part of you was completely addicted to it.

But why would you ever tell him that? His eyes sparkled like they knew it anyway. Still, he would never have the satisfaction of hearing it.

He took your jaw in his hand, eyes locked on yours as he buried himself inside you.

"Ransom," you gasped. You grabbed his forearm, turning forward to lay your face on the pillow.

He thrust into you at a slow and steady pace. Certainly, he’d fucked you better before, but while you were so sensitive, it was just enough. His hand wound in your hair and he shoved your face down.

You moaned into the pillow as your orgasm built. You ran out of breath quickly and since he had you pinned down, you couldn’t breathe. You began thrashing against him, arms grabbing whatever part of him you could, you locked your leg around him tight so you wouldn’t be able to pull away, and you started to roll your hips back.

“Shit, baby,” he grunted. “Like it when I hold you down?”

You blurted out a response even though you knew he wouldn’t understand. You blamed the thoughtless action on the lack of air you were getting. It was almost thrilling to see where you’d get first, would you finish or would you faint? Would he even care? Would he just keep fucking you? The idea of being used like that did not turn you off as much as you wanted it to.

He did not let you up until you had come and he had gently fucked you through it. You lifted your face from the pillow, greedily taking in oxygen. He moved harder and faster for himself, but just slightly. His hand found your neck and he pulled you closer to him.

You had yet to completely catch your breath but you happily sunk unto his hold, placing one of your hands over his and digging your nails into his skin. He was wrapped around you, warm, maybe somewhat suffocating. This kind of sex was always like this, just toeing that fine line of overwhelming.

His hips stuttered as he turned his face into the bend of your neck. Several more times and he was spilling inside you, body still and cock as deep as you could take it.

He remained inside you as he slowly released your neck and began kissing over the skin there, anything to keep you as full of him as possible. He brushed his hands through your hair and whispered in your ear until he came down from his high.

You both just laid there for a moment, tired and thinking. It was clear he wanted to speak and you were now willing to listen, which were rare states for both of you, even rarer when it occurred simultaneously.

"You’ve been spending a lot of time with your parents lately."

He wanted to talk about your parents? Right now? After that? "They just got back from Scotland."

"Mhm." He leaned over to kiss you for a moment, just a soft press of his lips that was so unlike how he usually kissed you. "But usually, you invite me."

"You never want to go."

"But you always ask."

"I mean, we’ve been fighting, Ransom."

"Or maybe you’re considering other options."

You scoffed. "I’m not doing that, Ransom."

"Well, it’d be stupid if you were. You know no one can fuck you like I can."

You rolled your eyes. "Can you fuck me again? Can you shut up and just fuck me?"

"I understand where they’re coming from, why they don’t like me."

"Ransom," you groaned, shoving his hand away and turning back to the wall.

His fingers began tracing random patterns over your skin. "They think I can’t take care of their little girl, they’re just concerned."

"You know what? Your parents don’t like me either."

"My parents aren’t throwing other women at me—"

"That I know of—"

"No, don’t even try to turn this around. You were on a date with Max—"

"I was not! It was not a date." Only you two. Honestly, only you two would decide to start an argument while he was inside you.

"Megan told me what she saw—"

"And was that after or before you fucked her?"

"Don’t," he warned. "I have been committed to you since the day I met you."

You snorted. "The day you met me? Please. I’m done with this." You began sliding your leg back over but he grabbed your thigh and pulled it back.

He reached forward then, locking his arm around you and sliding his hand under your hip. Finally, he dragged himself back, so slowly.

You shut your eyes and bit your lip to keep quiet.

His hips snapped forward and your surprised yelp followed. "I’ve never dated anyone else—"

"How do I know that?" you demanded. "You’re a liar."

"I’ve never fucked anyone else, I’ve never even looked at anyone else. Since the day I met you, I knew that you were mine."

You weren’t sure if you believed that. Ransom was always complicated, you knew that from day one. You also knew that he knew a lot of women, that he liked to party, that he’d fucked most of his “friends” and that the usual routine was to do so during or after one of those parties.

He had started dragging you along with his friends about four months into your relationship. So, those first four months were always unclear to you. But prior, he would come to your apartment sometimes, smelling of alcohol and perfume and fuck you. You never asked questions and he never offered up the details. He was always gone in the mornings, so you figured that meant no strings.

The relationship change happened somewhat by force. Your parent’s lived about an hour away from your apartment, so it wasn’t often that you visited, but it wasn’t unheard of. One of your oldest friends had had a baby and she decided to return home to stay with her parents, your parent’s neighbors. You thought it would be fun to do the same, so you headed home and easily fell back into that whole scene.

Ransom texted you every day, almost every hour. You weren’t there for more than three weeks when he showed up at three in the morning on a Tuesday, wasted, pounding on the back door. To this day, it is unknown to you how his drunk ass even managed to get into the backyard.

Regardless, he only came because your friend had been posting non-stop pictures on Facebook and tagged you in one that she got of you talking to one of her brothers. Something he'd confessed after he also told you he couldn't stop thinking about you and that he missed you. Your first mistake was believing those lines.

He didn't leave until you agreed to return with him. The drive home was around the time he told you he found your apartment to be a "waste of time". It took him a total of three months to finally convince you to move in with him.

It didn't really matter at the end of the day. You didn't have evidence, but he did. This round was going to go to Ransom if you really kept pushing it. But it wasn't like he was anything near innocent.

"If you ever tell me that this is your house again, I'm leaving. Understood?"

"Yes. And you're not allowed to go on dates with other people. Understood?"

"Understood," you sighed. “Even though it was not a date. I would never date Max.”

He finally smiled. "Great, done fighting?"

You scoffed. "You went through my stuff."

"You hit me."

"I should have hit you more than once," you countered. But you didn't mean that, and you definitely shouldn't have hit him. "That won't happen again."

"I deserved it."

"No, let's just...talk about things, okay? Instead of reacting first and talking later."

He hummed. "Doesn't sound at all like us. But why not give it a shot?"

You’d wanted the house. The shit inside? Gaudy, outdated, mostly picked by Linda. You weren’t in the business of being cruel, however, you told her she could take legal possession of several things. If she wanted to buy it at the yard sale you decided to have.

It was the easiest way to get rid of Harlan’s stuff and to do so respectfully. Fans of his books who were nowhere near as rich as the 1% could still feel a connection to the late author without losing an arm and a leg. Throwing it all away like Ransom had suggested just made you feel like trash. He didn’t understand but he went along with it.

Probably because of how mad it made his mother. You’d decided to let Walt and Joni do a run through and take what they wanted, but since Linda had tried to physically assault Ransom when he told her he’d somehow gotten Marta to sign the house over to him, you were still waiting on her to extend a heartfelt and extensive apology to him. He said it was never going to come, but you figured she just needed a little convincing.

She’d shown up to the yard sale, screaming as Richard tried to reign her in. How could you seriously be selling a nightstand for $5? It was criminal. You were an idiot who had no idea how much this stuff cost. You were a scheming whore who had been planning this from day one. It was a pretty entertaining show, even Jacob agreed. He’d told you that night that her meltdown already had a million views.

Ransom was absent most of the yard sale. He did not want to talk to people and he did not want them talking to him. He showed up when he heard his mother shrieking and called the cops because he was a little bored. When they showed up, she started throwing things. It was nothing short of what you had expected, but when she started throwing things at Ransom, that was different.

She needed more convincing, you decided.

After the yard sale that only lasted three days—impressive considering Harlan was basically a hoarder—you were finally moving in. You pleaded with Ransom to hire no one. You wanted to do this with him. You wanted to pack and unpack just the two of you.

He acted like you were trying to murder him when you’d first asked, but he came around. You guys started with the closets, knowing that would be the most complex process. It took an entire day to move it all in and organize since the house was empty, you guys ended up sleeping on about twenty blankets on the bedroom floor.

Nothing was staying the same, mostly Ransom wanted to upset his family, but you just wanted to create a new home. You didn’t want to feel like you were living in Harlan’s house, you wanted to make it your own.

You weren’t taking Harlan’s room, that would be weird, and it was also an abnormally small room. The biggest room in the house was Joni’s former room, it had been empty since Neal died. Harlan refused to let anyone move anything that belonged to his son, but that was no longer an issue. It was also the only room with two closets, it was perfect.

Meg took Harlan’s room and Joni would keep hers. Walt, Donna, and Jacob were moved into one room, a decision made by Ransom. You didn’t necessarily agree but you weren’t going to start a fight with him for that subsection of the family. Especially since they were hardly ever going to be over, maybe just for the major holidays. Linda and Richard’s room under the stairs would remain but Linda was banned from the house until you felt satisfied with her attempts to gain Ransom’s forgiveness.

Not that he was actually upset with her, but he should have been! Something you did not hesitate to tell him any time you guys spoke about the issue. Regardless, any time Linda stepped foot on the property, the cops would be called.

Anything that belonged personally to Harlan, like his study, his office, the library, Ransom took special joy in taking everything out of it. He got rid of the books, the furniture, those stupid knives. He realized the books and the knives were very valuable and placed those online for bid. He didn’t want the money but he didn’t think it smart to sell them the same way you were selling everything else.

He didn’t tell you what he did with the money, but you saw a few emails a few days after the last knife was gone. He’d donated it. Ransom fucking Drysdale donated money! A few no-kill animal shelters, a couple of cancer foundations, a few domestic violence organizations, and then Planned Parenthood. Was it weird that you went to find him directly after just because you wanted to have sex with him? Like, you still knew he was a fucking asshole, but this was very nice.

The house was empty finally, save for the closets, of course. It was time to move all the boxes in and after, you guys could go shopping. That was the part you were both truly looking forward to. Ransom was going crazy without a bed, but he’d taken to fucking you against the wall, so not a major loss.

It only took about three hours, but Ransom acted like this was the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life. Well, it probably was. You were getting ready to go out furniture shopping. You were thinking of ways to talk Ransom into painting with you, not just getting someone to take care of it. Harlan seemed to be a fan of ugly wallpaper and flat colors. Also, ugly lamps, shades, and curtains. That was the first round of replacements, the furniture would be arriving within the next few days. You had to sign for so much and it was getting difficult keeping the times and scheduling, the last thing you wanted was to double-schedule anything and waste someone’s time.

You were rummaging through the unopened boxes when Ransom came downstairs. “Looking for something?”

“Yeah, have you seen my planner?”

“I think I packed it.”

“Do you happen to remember which box?”

“Keep getting ready, I’ll look for it.”

You smiled, turning up to find him texting. “Your mother?”

“Yeah,” he scoffed. “Just some more threatening. Maybe we should lift the ban—”

“No way.”

“Y/N—”

“Ransom, she tried to hit you. And then she was throwing things at you. Look, as shitty as my parents are, something can be said for the fact that they never hit me. That’s not actually normal.”

“She didn’t hit me when I was younger, don’t try to make this some battered child thing.”

“Ransom, this is our house and I don’t feel comfortable having your mother here until she understands that any sort of abuse directed at you is not okay…okay?”

He sighed. “Why is this the hill you want to die on?”

“I’m sorry that I dislike bad parents.”

“We all have bad parents,” he pointed out. “Everyone rich has bad parents because bad parents raise bad parents. It’s been the cycle since the creation of people who feel comfortable stepping on the poor to further their wealth.”

“Okay, don’t try to distract me by saying things that only an aware person would say.”

“I am aware. I just choose to ignore it. Wish you would do the same.”

“Really? Then why did you donate all that money, Ransom?”

“To get you to fuck me.”

You snorted. “Please, you know I’ve fucked you for a lot less money than that. And you’re wrong, okay? Not everyone rich has bad parents. My friend who had the baby a few years ago? Great parents.”

“I mean, I saw their house, they’re not that rich.”

“They don’t show off!” you corrected. “And don’t imply that you and I will ever be like our parents. My mother was controlling, and my father was dismissive, and Linda is insane and god, I can’t even explain how fucked up your father is. We are nothing like that and we never would be if…”

He lifted his eyebrows. “If we had kids?”

“That wasn’t what I was trying to say.”

He scoffed. “Yes, it was.”

“No, but…sure, that’s true. If we ever had kids…we would not be like that. I wouldn’t force our daughters to model or sing—did you know she tried to make me sing? Like, be an actual fucking singer. And I’m never going to try to make them be in a relationship with someone that they don’t like. You will not hit them, and you won’t…fuck our babysitter or our housekeeper or…whatever else, if we ever hire any of them.”

“Yeah?”

“But since you’re giving me that fucking smug look, you should know, there isn’t enough money in the world that could ever get me to carry your fucking children. Fucking sociopaths is what they’ll be, I’m sure. Terrible, little monsters just like you.”

“Okay.”

“Fuck you, Ransom, I’m going to do my makeup.”

He smiled. “I’ll look for your planner.”

You turned for the staircase with a heavy sigh. This was annoying because he still hadn’t said he loved you. It had been years and you had said it, and he did not, but he felt totally okay making fun of you for hinting that maybe one day, you guys would be a normal couple. Whatever, you would not let it bring you down, you would just retaliate by making him spend a lot of money.

You were just about finished when you heard him storming up the stairs. His mother? Maybe Joni. “Ransom?”

He walked into the room, holding a vibrator that he’d torn out of the box. “Are you serious?”

“Okay, that was unopened! You would know that if you weren’t some entitled child that just goes around ripping open boxes, Ransom!”

“I can’t actually believe you have this!”

“I haven’t used it!”

“Then why do you have it?!”

“Because…” you began.

He lifted his eyebrows.

“You might make me mad and I might need to repeat what I did the last time.”

“I cannot believe you would actually bring this into our house.”

“My god, Ransom, it’s not cocaine. Can we dial down the dramatics today?”

“You know what? You should keep this because I’m not fucking you any time soon.” He tossed it onto the counter and stomped out of the bedroom.

“Oh, my god!” you yelled. “You’re so fucking unbelievable!”

#ransom drysdale x reader #i hate that i'm still so in love with this loser #but heyyy andy barber taking me away (tbh i'll be back. i can multitask)#my writing

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