request: Ransom long request: reader and ransom having a lovely relationship and get married over Xmas - winter wonderland themed. Then reader thinks ransom is cheating (you decide if he is or not) so reader investigates and ransom (maybe) covers it up with something else? Honeymoon number 2 for example and you take it from there or leave it at that. I don't mind. But I managed to shorten it kinda ?
pairing: ransom drysdale x fem!reader
summary: you never thought he would hurt you like this, but then he does.
word count: 1,163
warnings?: angst, cheating, not proofread.
note: this was written between november 8-12, 2021.
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Dating Ransom was...tough. It had its moments, of course, where he was undeniably sweet. But those moments usually came after he forgot he promised to come to a work function with you or missed a dinner with your parents or...Yeah, he was only overly sweet in the aftermath of a fuckup. But, he did love you. It was just in his own, weird way.
At least, that's what you told yourself.
If you were being honest with yourself, you knew he didn't love you. Not really. He was dating you, he proposed to you, he was marrying you because it pissed his family off. You were from an average family, had an average background. Managed to score a spot at an Ivy League, where you met trustfund prick Ransom Drysdale.
Back then, he was like every other rich kid at a pretentious school. Didn't care, didn't try, but got the grades because his parents donated a library or some shit. You were paired with him once for a group project in American Government and you nearly ripped your own head off trying to deal with him. Bastard left you to do all of the work and got half the credit for it, even when you reported to the professor that you'd been left high and dry.
But, after the project was said and done, he brought you your favorite cup of coffee to the next class, a sheepish smile on his face. He didn't apologize, or even acknowledge what he'd done, because he's a Drysdale and why would he? But, it was an effort. You tolerated him after that.
Eventually, tolerance turned to something more. He showed a part of himself to you that he wouldn't show to anyone else. With the rest of the world, he had a reputation to keep. He had expectations. People hear the name "Ransom Drysdale" and envision a pompous asshole who'll use and discard and use and discard and use and discard until his heart's content. He had a show he had to put on with every person he met. The curtains were only ever really allowed to close when he was left alone. But, being alone with your true self is a daunting task.
He once said to you that he only felt like himself, his true self, when he was with you. You wondered now if he was lying to you. If he was trying to butter you up.
He probably was—Hugh Ransom Drysdale didn't have an honest fucking bone in his body.
You knew that now. You knew that all too well.
After he'd proposed to you, he changed. The few moments of genuine sweetness waned and waned and waned until nothing was left. Now, he was just as cold to you as he was to the rest of the world. Tickling at the edge of your mind was the constant worry that he didn't love you, that maybe he never really did, that he was only using you as a vehicle to piss off everyone in his inner circle.
You never felt more alone than in the lead up to the wedding. Ransom...He'd blown off every single commitment along the way. Didn't show up to the cake tasting. Didn't care about the floral arrangements. Had no opinions on the theme. Barely made it for his tux fitting—only showed up because Harlan practically dragged him by his ear.
He was being squirrelly, and you couldn't figure out why.
Well, that wasn't true. You had an idea. The only thing that he'd been excited for during the entire lead up to the wedding was his damned bachelor's party. You weren't sure you'd ever seen him that happy, that excited, before—not even when he acted like he still loved you. You had your suspicions. You had very strong suspicions about what was happening.
Those suspicions weren't confirmed until the morning of the big day.
You were in the middle of your hair being styled when Meg, Ransom's cousin, walked up to you, worry evident in her eyes. You caught her gaze in the mirror, watching as she came up to you.
"What's wrong?" you asked, unable to turn around as the stylist had you forced to stay in the position she needed you in.
She held up a phone—Ransom's phone. "I'm so sorry. I-I think...I'm sorry."
"What are you talking about?"
"I didn't mean to snoop, but I was asked to get Ransom's phone and a text came through and I didn't mean to read it but...I think you need to see it."
She set the phone down in your hands. You tapped the screen, your blood running cold as you read a message from someone called Kitty: can't wait to see you tonight <3
You slid over, tapping in Ransom's passcode, and looked at the messages. Was it shitty of you? Sure. He was entitled to his privacy but...God, if he was doing what you thought he was doing, you figured you had a right to know. But dammit, as you scrolled back a few days in the messages, you really didn't want to know what you were reading.
kitty:how are you gonna get rid of her bby?? i miss you :(
ransom:i'll tell her i'm planning a honeymoon part 2 or something don't worry
kitty: will she believe that tho??
ransom:she hasn't been smart enough to figure it out now, so she's not going to think anything's suspicious now
kitty: i just don't want her to ruin things :(
ransom: she won't. i'll make sure of it.
You chewed on your bottom lip as you reached the bottom of the messages. You forced the phone back into Meg's hands, pulling off your engagement ring and placing it in her open palm, too. "Tell him the wedding's off."
"What?"
"Tell him to enjoy his second honeymoon with Kitty. I'm done with this shit." You waved off the stylists and got out of the chair. You crossed the room, pulling on the leggings and sweater you'd arrived at the venue in, discarding the custom silk robe Linda had gifted you to wear while you got ready for the ceremony. "And tell him that finding this out is the best present he could've ever given me."
"Y/N—"
"What?"
"Good luck. He's not going to be happy...They're not going to be happy when they find out you're ditching him at the altar."
"Then make it as dramatic as you can. Let him stand at the altar, let the groomsmen and bridesmaids come in. Let him stand there, waiting for me, let it go on until everyone's whispering and wondering and asking where I am. Then tell them just how much of a bastard he really is," you said. "He humiliated me, I humiliate him."
And without another word, you left. The venue faded into a small dot in the distance in your rearview mirror. Goodbye, you thought, and good riddance.
