My writing and my blog is intended for those 18+. My work may contain foul language, adult situations, alcohol & drug use, sexual content, etc. Please read responsibly.
Prompt fills & Drabbles
Claws - Ransom x Reader
Twice - Ransom x Reader
Better Use - Steve Rogers x Reader
Shy - Steve Rogers x Reader
Snuggle - Andy x Reader
Love Letters - Ransom x Reader
Yield - Steve Rogers x Reader
Feast of Flesh - Curtis Everett x Reader, smidge of Steve Kemp x Reader
Mirror sex w/Ransom - hoe thoughts with friends
One-shots
Just like the ones I used to know - Steve Rogers x Reader, post-Christmas fluff, gender neutral reader
Ransom’s Hallmark Moment - Ransom Drysdale x Female Reader, smut, Valentine’s Day themed gift fic with Ransom being soft and dirty
So Wrong - Lee Bodecker x Female Reader, smut, angst, infidelity (not the reader) - Reader is a single mother/widow who is drawn to the sheriff.
Keep Pure Their Hearts - Priest!Andy Barber x Female Reader, au, smut with some fluff and smidges of angst (very tiny). Christmas Mass and our hot priest friend has a bit of a crisis of faith.
Series
C’mon Let’s Pretend - Ransom Drysdale x Female Reader series
Just a Lick - time stamp from the CLP series
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I try to be inclusive with my works and tag appropriately. If you find something inaccurate or missing, please let me know so that I can fix my errors. Thank you.
Works for other fandoms (Gotham & SPN) can be found on my AO3 under cave_of_the_mounds (it was a joke name when I signed up, but it is what it is now)
It's been like a million years since I've written anything but all my stories are still simmering in the stew that is my brain. My life feels like it's finally clearing up. I'm about to have a surgery which feels appropriate to get back into this since the last time I had surgery was when I got into the CE fandom.
Here's what is still in my drafts...
Teacher! Steve x divorced reader
My 'I promise it's not abandoned' Ransom series where he's of course emotionally constipated, but things get complicated and feels adjacent
Another part of my Lee Bodecker x reader fic
An 'I'd love to talk it out more' idea about Jake x reader x Curtis in an au where Jake and reader go undercover to expose Curtis and his nefarious dealings in his organization, but maybe it's not all that it seems
I’ve been meaning to send this ask, but my brain keeps doing the thing where if I don’t do it when I think I forget 😭
Anyways! I love looking at the gifs you’ve made before. I know you’re just getting back, but is that something you think you’ll keep doing? Or are you focused more on writing now?
(This is not meant as pressure! More just curious 😊)
Love ya!
hiii chels🤍
i do wanna get back into gifs but it means sitting down for a good few hours and it’s something i really wish i had the time for. with writing i can just pick it up on my phone, five minutes here and there but with colouring and remembering sizing, etc it’s so much easier to be able to sit and focus on a full set.
i’m waiting for his ass to show up in his new movie bc i’m hoping it sparks the gif fairy to kick my ass (bc hello??? we’re getting the beard again) and i hope it breathes some new life into the fandom too! esp with doomsday around the corner!
online communities are so strange because people slip away so easily. you can be on here for years, folding people you've never met into the fabric of your daily life, and then they disappear, leaving only ghost posts scattered across tumblr behind. or their blog stays dormant, for weeks, months, years, until you're only still following them because you remember that they love sunflowers or they were kind to you when they didn't have to be or the last thing they posted was sad and raw and you still worry about them sometimes.
and sometimes they come back when you least expect it, years later, even, and there's this sudden rush of relief like there you are, there you are, even though you barely knew each other.
there's a strange kind of love to it. i don't know you and i want to hold your hand across miles and time zones and oceans. i can still see the imprint of you in this community you left. you don't think anyone will notice or care when you're gone, but we notice and we care and we wish you well.
i hope you're all okay out there. i hope the sun is shining on your face and you are breathing deeply. i miss you.
the worst part is steve rogers WOULDN’T. he wouldn’t leave sam with the responsibility of the shield without being there to support him. he wouldn’t go back to a woman who died of old age, had her own life and told him to move on. he wouldn’t have ever, not even once, considered leaving bucky — aka his entire world wrapped up in one person — alone, especially after just getting him back. and he wouldn’t have decided that he’d fought the good fight enough and retire in suburbia in the decade epitomes for traditional values aka an antitheses to everything he stood for. the real steve rogers would legitimately hate the man marvel put on the screen in endgame. and yet. and yet
Summary: Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn.
Warnings: Angst, age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, explicit language, references to childhood trauma, pregnancy, my own rampant abuse of italics and en dashes - Warnings will be added as needed for subsequent parts. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI
Dividers by @saradika-graphics
Series Masterlist
Masterlist
A/N: Aaahhh! You guys! I'm so excited to share this one with you!!
This is usually where I thank @paperweight91 for all of her help, but this time I'm telling you to thank her. Because without her this chapter would be much shorter and would have ended in a place that would have made you all so mad at me. So go thank Chelsea!!
But sincerely, I need to thank her too. She did so much work on this chapter with me, helping me turn it from something I'd kind of thought of as filler or just a bridge in my original plan to one of my favorite chapters in this whole story. You're the best, Chelsea.
Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. And if you need to come scream at me, that's ok too! I'm honestly kind of hoping you will! As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜
You didn’t bother checking the time when you got up. You could tell by the lack of light filtering through the curtains and the absolute stillness of the house that it was the middle of the night. This had been happening more and more, waking up at odd hours. And waking up hungry. Since you’d officially made it out of your first trimester and escaped the clutches of morning sickness, you’d been absolutely ravenous.
Even though you did your best not to disturb her, Lola grumbled as you left the bed, opening one eye to glare at you, but she didn’t move any more than that.
As you moved into the hall, you were surprised to find Ransom’s door wide open. The far bedside lamp was on, but his bed was empty. But when you went downstairs, none of the lights were on. You cautiously flipped on the light in the kitchen, checking around, but the whole floor was empty. That was a bit odd, but not enough to interrupt your mission. You went straight to the pantry and got out the jar of peanut butter, grabbing a spoon from the drawer. As you were about to go back upstairs, something outside, by the back door, caught your eye. You stopped and waited until you saw movement again, so you cautiously moved forward and peeked your head outside. Ransom was standing a few feet to the side of the door, his gaze on the trees that lined the yard. There was a glass of whiskey in his hand, but it looked untouched.
You came out to stand next to him, closing the door behind you. “Sorry,” he said, very quietly, “did I wake you?”
You weren’t sure how that could have happened, when he was standing alone in the dark, completely silent. “No,” you answered. “I was just hungry.”
He glanced down at what you were holding. His nose wrinkled. “You’re eating peanut butter straight from the jar.”
“Yup,” you confirmed with a smile. “It was the only thing we had that sounded good. What I really want is a burger to dip in it.”
He raised his eyebrow at you. “A burger? To dip in peanut butter?”
“Uh huh! With extra pickles and extra mustard. And jalapeños.” Your stomach gave a little rumble, as if to cement your position on the matter.
Ransom wrinkled his nose. “That sounds disgusting.”
“Yeah,” you agreed with a sigh. “I want it so bad.”
“So I guess that means your appetite is back.”
“Yeah,” you gave him a relieved smile. “Finally.”
He nodded. “That’s good,” he said, quietly.
You waited a beat, comfortable in the silence, and then asked, “What are you doing up?”
He shrugged, looking back out at the trees. “Just couldn’t sleep.”
“Mmm,” you hummed in response. You could have gone back in, finished your snack, gone back to bed. But you didn’t. You weren’t sure why. But you settled in next to him and looked out at the trees.
After several minutes, he added, “My brain just won’t turn off.”
“Oh yeah?” you asked, not turning your attention to him.
“Yeah,” he said, quietly. There was another very long beat before he continued, “I’m not going to be good at this.”
“Good at what?” you asked softly.
He shrugged, resolutely not looking at you. “Any of this. I have no idea how to be a father.” He swallowed, swirling around the ice in his drink but not taking a sip. “Or a husband. I don’t know how to be good at it.”
“Oh,” was all you said at first, his words landing in your chest. Then, “I don’t know how to do it either, be a wife or mother. Or,” you stopped, remembering all of your mother’s words and advice since you were a little girl and how hard you’d been trying to shut them out recently. “I guess I know how to be a certain version of a wife, but I don’t think that’s the kind I want to be.”
He finally looked at you, his eyes soft, a deep blue in the dark. “Like your mom, you mean.”
“Yeah,” you whispered.
“Hmm…” another swirl of his glass, “was she a good mom? To you?”
“Um…” you started, fully turning your head away, but you still felt his eyes on you. “I don’t know. I guess–“ You sighed. You knew the answer even though you didn’t want to say it. “No. No, I don’t think she was. Not in a malicious way, she just- I don’t think she ever had the capabilities. I think she was too beaten down by the time I came along. She loved me in the only way she was able, but… But maybe that wasn’t enough.” You blinked back a few tears and shook your head. The steady chirping of crickets filled the quiet. You tried to let it calm you.
“My parents never loved me,” Ransom said after a long enough beat for you to pull yourself together. “I know that for sure. They’d tell you they do, but they don’t. I’ve known it since I was a kid.”
You put the spoon in the peanut butter and set it down on the patio next to you. With both hands you cradled your stomach. You were starting to really notice it changing, now that you were officially in your second trimester. Now that there was no reason to try to hide it. “I want to love them so much, but I just, I’m afraid I won’t know how.”
Ransom put his glass down on the ledge behind him and then took a step towards you. He didn’t say anything at first, just looked at you very carefully. Then he took another step, reached a hand toward your middle and stopped. “Uh, do you mind if– Can I?“
It took you a moment to understand what he was asking for. Then, “Oh! Uh, yeah, sure.” You moved your own hands from your belly to make room for his. He carefully put both hands on you, cradling whoever was inside. He didn’t say anything, didn’t even really look up at you. But he stood there for a long time, holding you so gently, staring at your stomach like maybe if he stared hard enough, he could unlock some secret of the universe.
Eventually, you broke the silence, speaking softly in an effort to not disturb the peace you felt here in the dark. “I think,” his eyes shot up to meet yours at the sound of your voice. You gulped at the intensity of his gaze but kept going. “I think that as long as we try, we’ll be giving them more than we ever got. Maybe it still won’t be enough, but, it’ll be something. We just have to try.”
Ransom visibly swallowed, then looked you right in the eye and nodded. He took a step back and picked up his drink from where he’d left it, but he still didn’t drink it. He seemingly just needed something to do with his hands.
You stood in companionable silence for another long moment. Just as you were readying yourself to leave him alone with his thoughts and go back to bed, he spoke again. “What do you think about this house?”
“What?” was the only thing you could say to the strange abruptness of the question.
He was staring absently into the house now, a pronounced crease between his brows. “I keep trying to imagine a little kid running around here and I just can’t.”
Oh. You remembered back to that first day when you found out you were pregnant. You’d tried and failed to do the same thing. “No, I guess I can’t really either. And–“ you paused, finding your words, and he turned his attention to you, “when I first got here, I remember thinking that there was nothing in this house that seemed to have anything of you in it.”
He looked back into the living room through the large windows. “Linda got me this house when I turned twenty-five. It was already decorated and fully furnished when I moved in. I don’t know, I guess it was just the place I lived. Nothing more. And I never really thought about it.”
You didn’t say anything in response. He was clearly thinking through something. You took the moment to look at him, here in just the light coming out through the window. He looked different, you thought, now that you were actually getting to know him. Softer, maybe. Or smaller? Or, just, more like him.
“Maybe,” he said after several moments, “maybe it could be good to find a new place. Somewhere that fits all of us.”
“Yeah,” you said, quietly, a warmth moving through you. “Yeah, that could be really nice.”
He hummed in affirmation, and finally took a sip of his drink, before decisively putting it down again.
He didn’t say anything more, so you decided it was a good time to head back to bed. You quietly moved to the door, then stopped and turned back to him. “Hey, Ransom,” you called. He looked up at you, questioning, ready. “There’s still so much about this that really scares me, but I don’t think I’m scared of doing it all with you. Not anymore.”
The way he held your gaze at that was intense. Like he could really see you. And you could see him too. He swallowed roughly and then nodded. “Yeah,” he said. It came out rough. “Me too.”
You just looked at each other for a few more seconds. Then, with your hand on the door, you nodded back at him. “Okay. Well, goodnight, then.”
“Goodnight,” he said, soft and quiet. You felt his eyes on you until you were all the way inside.
Once you got upstairs, your room was empty. You went across the hall, and sure enough, Lola was curled up next to Ransom’s pillow. You smiled to yourself then went back to your room, leaving the door open, just a bit, a little dog-sized crack, in case either of them changed their minds.
You shouldn’t have been surprised how quickly things moved after that. If you’d learned anything about him it was that once he’d made up his mind about something, he acted quickly. The next week, Ransom had set up a meeting with a real estate agent—completely unaffiliated with his mother—and a week after that you were looking at houses. It felt surreal, actively making plans for your future family. But as the growth of your stomach became more noticeable every day, that future was starting to feel a lot more like your present.
There were some differences, it’d turned out, in how you and Ransom had pictured that future. You’d had your sites set on somewhere in Boston proper. Ransom’s empty neighborhood only added to your feelings of isolation and you were sick of it. You missed your apartment in downtown LA. and you wanted something urban again. You wanted parks and restaurants and walkability and culture. You wanted noise and activity and life.
Ransom couldn’t understand that. Especially with a baby on the way. He wanted privacy and quiet and space. But Ransom had a car he loved driving. Ransom had a job that got him out of the house everyday. Ransom had never had to worry about feeling isolated.
So you silenced the voice in your head that always sounded like your mom and put your foot down. This new life you were starting together would not involve another house that didn’t have neighbors. A house that made you feel like a ghost. A house that cut you off from society. So you stared Ransom down until he threw his hands up in exasperation.
Your real estate agent Deborah did her best to bridge the gulf between you, mostly looking at inner-ring suburbs that were quieter and upscale without feeling dead. You’d seen a few houses so far and at each one both you and Ransom had found reasons to turn them down. You hoped this one might be different. You were ready to have at least one part of your new life with this baby settled.
The car pulled up in front of a three-story, swell-front house in Brookline. It was constructed from red brick with black trim. There were brightly colored flower beds lining the walk up to the front door. It felt homey, at least from the outside. As much as you tried to focus on taking it all in, you were quickly distracted by the sight of Ransom, already there, pacing in front of the property and growling into his phone. You turned to the driver, asking him to wait there for you, as you weren’t sure if Ransom would be coming home when you were done or would need to return to work. As he nodded and got back in the car, you headed to Ransom who’d ended his conversation and now was shaking his head in frustration.
“Everything okay?” you asked him as you got close.
His shoulders relaxed at the sight of you. “Just fucking Harlan,” he said with an eye roll as he greeted you with a hug. That was something he’d been doing lately. Since that awful dinner at his grandfather’s house. It was nice. It was really nice. “He wants the baby to take his last name.”
That stopped you cold. “What?”
“Yeah,” Ransom scowled. “I think if he had it to do over again, he would have figured out a way to get my name changed when he made me his heir. But he didn’t, so now he wants to correct it with my heir.”
Your hands instinctively went to your belly. What if this baby isn’t your heir? a tiny voice asked. A voice that had been getting bigger ever since Harlan’s toast to your son at that dinner. But saying that out loud felt too much like tempting fate, so instead you voiced a safer anxiety. “The baby will have a different last name from us?”
“Hey, no. Don’t worry. I’ll figure out a way to talk him down. I promise.” He gently placed his hand on the small of your back. “Now, come on, let’s go let Deborah try to convince us that this is the house.”
You nodded, letting your hands relax at your sides, and let him guide you up the front steps to where Deborah was waiting to let you in.
Your first impression was that everything was very beige. It was staged beautifully. But god, you hated the color scheme. The paint, all the fixtures. All so beige. It was oppressive.
Deborah showed you through the house. The finished basement, the semi-open plan living and dining spaces on the first floor, the bedrooms and en suites on the second. It was nice, you supposed, fine. But it just felt like a house. You didn’t know what would push you over into loving it.
So, instead of looking around at the rooms you passed through, you started watching Ransom. You could see his keen eyes taking in every detail. You wondered what he was seeing. More than you were, it seemed. But you couldn’t tell what direction he was leaning. You still found him so hard to read.
Deborah ended the tour on the third floor. “This floor would make a lovely au pair’s suite,” she said with a soft smile toward your pregnant belly. You and Ransom hadn’t talked about that yet, the nanny situation. Only that you both lamented having been completely raised by nannies. “Or if you decide against live-in help, easily convertible into a set of offices.” She looked to you and then Ransom, who was peering around the small common living space. “Well, I’ll let the two of you explore a bit on your own. I’ll be right downstairs if you have any questions.”
You thanked her as she left, then turned to Ransom who was looking at you, a soft smile on his face. “This is the one, right?” he asked you.
“You think?” you asked back, looking around, trying to see what you were missing.
“I do,” he nodded. “I think it’s exactly what we need.”
You wrinkled your nose at the beige walls that surrounded you. “I hate all the colors.”
Ransom gave you a smile that you could only describe as affectionate. It made your stomach swoop oddly. “That’s fine,” he said. “We’ll get a decorator. Have it exactly how we want before we even move in.” He paused and his expression grew more careful. “You really don’t see it?”
You sighed as you looked around again. “I mean, I don’t hate it. And I’m trying, but…” You gave a helpless shrug. “I’m sorry.”
One last long, careful look at you had him asking, “Can I show you?” with his hand outstretched to take yours.
You only hesitated for a moment before putting your hand in his. “Okay.”
He quickly brought you down to the second floor, his hand warm and snug around your own. He stopped in the hallway. “We can figure out rooms for each of us eventually. You can have the primary if you want. I–“ He abruptly stopped, then shook his head. There was a look in his eyes that you couldn’t read. But then he gestured to the room directly across from the primary and said, “But that’s the nursery.”
You let him lead you inside. It was a large room with a window directly opposite the door. There were built in bookcases on each side of the window, with a low, padded window seat that ran between them. It was lovely.
Ransom came up behind you, close enough that you could feel a hint of his body heat, and pointed, over your shoulder, to one corner. “That’s where the crib will go. Something to match the built-ins.” He moved your attention to the opposite wall. “Some toy chests over there.” And then back to the space next to one of the bookshelves. “And a comfy rocking chair in the corner here. So we can sit with them.”
“Oh,” was all you could say. Tears had started to prick at the corners of your eyes. It wasn’t just that you could see what he was describing. It was that he could see it. That he had thought of the kind of room he wanted for your child. That he so clearly wanted them to be happy.
“We could do a forest theme. Sage and dark green walls, knick knacks on the shelves, get some big stuffed animals.”
“Yeah,” you nodded, trying to keep your emotion out of your voice. “That sounds really nice.”
He grabbed your hand again. “Okay, come on. There’s more.”
He brought you downstairs next, and into the kitchen.
It was large, spacious, with two sliding doors that could separate it from the rest of the house if needed. There was an island with a large gas range on top of it and stools lining one side. It was nice, with all the appliances you could want in a kitchen.
Ransom was watching you take it in. “We’ll have a housekeeper who can prepare meals, of course, but I want this to be a place you can use whenever you want. But only when you want. When the doors are open, I think the sight lines are pretty good to the rest of this level.” He walked over to the breakfast nook that sat under a large window to the backyard, looking at something you couldn’t see. “I really like this,” he said, quietly. “The kid could sit here and color or play or whatever, while you cooked. Or I could sit here with them, and talk to you. Keep you company. I think this could be a really nice place to spend time in.”
You swallowed harshly around a lump in your throat. He was imagining so much. “Yeah,” you agreed, starting to see what he saw. “You’re right. It really could be.”
“Okay,” he said with a soft smile. “One last thing.” Then you let him pull you, a little dazed, into the backyard.
It was bigger than you’d expected, due to it being a corner lot. But you thought the property must have been extended at some point as well. There was a carriage house with the same red brick and black trim as the main house converted into a multi-car garage in the far corner. A paved drive leading from it to the street guarded by a wrought-iron gate. Nearer to the house, there was a small patio, big enough for a dining area. It was beautifully landscaped, surrounded by a tall, thick hedge screen.
“It’s not huge, but big enough I think. Lola would have plenty of room to run around. And maybe we could put a little swing set or something over there, some sort of play area” he gestured back to the dining area, “and you and I could spend nice nights out here, watch the kid play–“
He kept talking. You know he did. But you were so overwhelmed you couldn’t take in anymore. He hadn’t just imagined his own life in this house, with you as a background character. No, he’d imagined the three of you here, as a family, and the way these walls might contain your whole lives together. You were so overcome with feeling. You’d never felt like this before. You lunged for him without a single conscious thought to do it, connecting your lips to his.
Ransom went very still. Shocked. His whole body stiff against yours. Just as you felt him start to relax minutely, you brain finally caught up with your body and you pulled away, taking several steps back. Your hands came up to your mouth in horror. “Oh my god,” you muttered. What had you done? Why had you done that? “I-“ you started and stopped. You wanted to apologize but you didn’t know how to get the words out. And he was standing there, stock still, just staring at you. “I, um,” you swallowed harshly. “You’re, uh, you’re right. This house is ours. Um. You should go tell Deborah. Get the process started. But I–“ You tried to force yourself to breathe. “I have to go.”
And then you ran away, even with him calling after you. Back to the waiting car and then back home.
You beat Ransom home. Of course you did. Hopefully, he’d be gone for a while, getting things settled with Deborah. You didn’t know how you would face him. You fed Lola and let her out, and then you just paced around the lower floor of the house, round and round, before you finally got out your phone and typed a message.
Shit Steve, I think I really fucked up
The three dots to show he was typing appeared immediately, then disappeared, and reappeared.
Give me two minutes
You reacted with a thumbs up and waited. Two minutes later, on the dot, your phone rang. “Hey Steve,” you answered.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, urgently. “Do I need to come out there and beat someone up?”
“No,” you sighed. “This one’s all my fault.”
“Chip, what happened?”
You braced yourself. “I kissed Ransom.”
Steve didn’t say anything in response. For too long. Oh god. You really had fucked up. “Steve?” you asked nervously.
“Oh!” he exclaimed, sounding caught off guard. “I thought– Is that it?”
Your brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean ‘is that it?’”
“I– I guess I don’t really understand what the problem is here. You think you fucked up because you… kissed your husband?”
“No, that’s not– When you say it like that–“ you struggled, then sighed. “You know that’s not how we are.”
There was another long pause from him and when he spoke again his voice was shockingly soft. “Are you sure about that?”
“Steve, I– What are you talking about?”
“Chip, I was there. From everything I saw and everything you’ve told me since, it’s obvious he cares about you. And vice versa.”
This time it was you who was quiet for a moment as you gathered your thoughts. “I know that he cares about me,” you said, and you meant it. You could finally admit that you felt his care every day. “But caring about me isn’t the same thing as wanting that kind of relationship with me. We’re friends and–“ you stopped, not sure how to say exactly what you meant. “We’re friends.”
When he paused this time, the silence was thoughtful. “Okay, Chip. I can tell you're really panicking and I want to help you, but I need you to help me understand why you’re so upset."
“I just–“ You took a deep breath, trying to hold back the tears that wanted to form. “I don’t want to have ruined everything.”
“But what if you didn’t?” he asked, his voice gentle. “What if he feels the same way?”
You immediately shook your head, even though he couldn’t see you. “No,” you argued, voice quiet. “No, he can’t. That’s not something I get to have.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, hesitantly.
“I– I’ve always known that that isn’t for me. I– That’s not– Even being friends is more than I ever imagined I’d get to have. I should be so grateful to have a husband who cares about me at all. It feels too greedy to want anything else.”
“Oh, Chipmunk.” His voice was so sad. “It’s okay to want good things for yourself. I want everything good for you. I want you to have it.”
Your eyes were fully watering now. “I don’t think I know how to do that.”
“Listen, you know I hate to say anything nice about Ransom. But I think he really wants to take good care of you. If that’s true, he’d want you to talk to him about this. I think it’ll go better than you expect. I think you can trust him.”
“I want to,” you whispered.
“Talk to him,” he ordered. “Promise me you will.”
“Okay,” you acquiesced, your voice so small.
“It’s going to be okay, Chip.” He sounded so sure. “No matter what happens, it’s going to be okay.”
And for a moment, you were ten again, believing everything your big brother told you. “Okay,” you said. “Thank you.”
“Always,” he said, without hesitation. Then he sighed. “All right. I should probably get back to my meeting.”
“What? Oh no, you didn’t–“
“Stop, this was more important. But I should get back now. Let me know how things go.”
“I will. Thank you, Steve.”
“Love you, Chip. Bye.”
Love you. Bye Steve.” You hung up the phone and tried to hold onto the feeling that things might be all right.
You’d done your best to try to settle yourself down. You’d sat on the couch. You’d picked up the book you were in the middle of and opened it to where you’d left off. But you didn’t read. You couldn’t. Your eyes stayed locked on the front door. You had no idea how this was going to go.
Even with all of your attention on the door, you still startled when it opened and Ransom walked in. He froze, a little, when he noticed you on the couch. He was carrying something. Your eyes flicked to it as you stood up, taking a few steps forward, but still leaving a gulf between you.
“I got you something. To eat,” he said, shockingly timid, gesturing at you with the greasy, white paper bag in his hand. He set it down on the kitchen island and took a step back.
You walked to the island and very carefully opened it. It was a burger, absolutely slathered in peanut butter. With extra mustard, extra pickles, and jalapeños. The exact burger you’d told him you’d been craving.
“Sorry,” he said quietly, “it took me a while to find a place that could do it. Because, you know, it’s disgusting.”
You just stared at it for a long moment, ignoring his teasing. Those feelings welling up inside you again. But no matter how he cared for you, you decided, it was enough. No matter what Steve said. You couldn’t fuck that up. “I, uh– I owe you an apology,” you said nervously, your fingers fidgeting on the counter top in front of you. You felt Ransom’s gaze snap to you, but he didn’t say anything so you continued. “I’m so sorry I kissed you. I never should have done that and it won’t happen again. I’m really sorry.”
You kept your gaze on your hands until the silence stretched on far longer than you were comfortable with. Nervously, you looked up, locking eyes with Ransom. His brow was furrowed. He looked upset. Was the apology not enough?
He stared at you for too long, like he was trying to find something in your expression, but you weren’t sure what. Then, finally, he asked, “What, exactly, are you apologizing for?” When your only response was to look at him in confusion—you thought you’d been clear—he rephrased. “Why are you sorry you kissed me?”
“Because–“ It felt like your breath was caught in your throat. The moment suddenly felt charged, for reasons you didn’t fully understand. “Because I know that’s not something you want and I–“
“I think,” he cut you off, voice low and so serious, “that you have no idea what I actually want.” And then, before you could parse what he meant, he surged forward, taking your face in both hands, and kissed you.
It took a moment for your brain to register what was happening, it was so far beyond anything you’d expected. But then you caught up, feeling his soft lips on yours, his hands gently cradling your head, the warmth of his body seeping into you. You let out a little gasp, finally understanding, feeling it for real, and he took it as invitation to deepen the kiss, his tongue tentatively entering your mouth. You sank into it, taking everything he was giving you. You’d never been kissed like this, never with such feeling. All you could do was ride its wave.
Far too soon, Ransom pulled away. But not far. He pressed his forehead to yours, his lips still so close, and whispered, “What I want is whatever you’re willing to give me. Not a single thing more, but not anything less, either. I want anything you might want.”
“Really?” you asked, your voice so small, overwhelmed. You could feel the tears starting to gather in your eyes, and you futilely tried to blink them away.
“Really,” he answered, and the certainty in his voice moved through you, as he brushed a tear off your face with his thumb. “I promise. Anything you want. Always.”
You took a deep breath. “I want to be a family with you,” you whispered. And with those words, you felt something inside of you, something that you hadn’t fully realized was undone, settle for the first time since you’d sat in Joseph’s office and been forced to sign that contract.
“Me too,” he whispered back. “Let’s be a family.”
And then he kissed you again. Like he meant it. And you believed him.
A/N 2: 😭😭😭 It only took eleven chapters but they finally did it, you guys!!!! I hope you love this as much as I do. Please let me know what you think!
I'm gonna pretend there will be no more angst and just sit here and enjoy this blissful time because they deserve it and so do I. 😂
Loved the progression, the buildup, the vision. OMG Ransom making baby room plans?!?!?! I'm reconsidering having more kids now with that image in mind.
Pair each sentences with a different babe of your choice.
“Wipe that smile off your face before I do it for you.”
“You're just mad cause you don't want to want me.”
“You're not walking away from me, not this time.“
Funny thing is that with the first sentence I had an instant man in my head - leaning down to get on your eye level, getting into your personal space, both snarling it in a warning AND making it a husky promise of very filthy consequences 😏
“Wipe that smile off your face before I do it for you.”
The second one comes from the infuriating man, whom you'd love to call dumb and interested only in fucking around, but unfortunately despite his slutty ways he is incredibly smart, doesn't fuck up at work, is dedicated and kind. And damn it! You do want him.
“You're just mad cause you don't want to want me.”
The third one? Oh, that's definitely the man who is done seeking permission and asking for forgiveness 😎 He's done playing it patient and safe, and allowing you to tap into your doubts. It's time he makes sure to have something he loves and craves in his life - which is you. No more fucking running.
