#next is ressler

[witchersmistress]

My little darling

Hello my darlings! here is another kinky prompt request from the lovely @livesinfantasyland,

Summary: Walter the grumpy bear that he is, has to go interview a witness at the last place on earth hed like to be in let alone with a rookie involved

word count: 1.4k

Trigger warning: lap dance, oral male recieveing, bodily fluids, blow jobs, praise kink, daddy kink

  

Walters pov

I am so ready for this fucking night to be over. Slamming my hand on the desk causing my entire desk to rattle. I search for my phone and flip it over, it is a quarter to 11, you're at work by now so i wont have you to go home to. “Marshall” my chief yelled “ My office, now” huffing I pushed back from my desk and stood making my way into his office. “Yes sir, you wanted to see me?” he motioned for me to close the door, shutting the door with my foot. Sitting in the chair in front of me. “ I need your help on the case involving the dead politician. He had a regular spot he liked to frequent and we have evidence that he was there the night he died.” i cocked an eyebrow, “But…” he dropped the folder on his desk with a heavy sigh “You are the only detective i feel comfortable sending here” i grabbed the file and opened it.

Inside was what information we had on the politician, his name was Alex O’Connell age 35. Stuff about his career and how he was next in line to be the senator for Minnesota. I snorted at those as I perused the rest of the file. The lab found some particulate evidence on his lap that they were able to identify as strawberry body glitter, the same type of body glitter that is often used  by the girls at the Showroom. I looked at him “Really sir? Why me?” he let out a loud laugh “Because Marshall you are unfazed by anything. Take Maxwell with you, he could use some entertainment  "I rolled my eyes and stood from my spot “Say no more sir, on my way "I walked out of his office as he continued to laugh. 

Grabbing an empty paper cup i throw it at the back of Ressler’s head, he spun around “What the fuck Marshall” grabbing my coat and phone, “Thats for turning my night into a longer one dickhead. Maxwell with me. Now” he scrambled around at his desk and ran to catch up with me. “Where are we going” he asked when he finally climbed into the car, starting her up “ We are going to the Showroom”  his face blanched and his eyes widened. If he wasn't already seated I'm pretty sure he would have fallen down. Putting the car in drive we took off.

We arrived at the club shortly after 11: 30 pm. Climbing out of the car, and around the side into the building. It was dark and the music was a low thumping beat, the floors rattled with the vibrations of the speakers. Maxwell looked like a deer in headlights as we approached a group of ladies. They were sitting on a stage, there were  4 of them, the redhead in the center of the group, she had her hair pulled back, curled slightly at the end. She had on this beautiful oriental blue lingerie set, with black fishnet thigh highs and black high heels. She tossed her hair back and looked over at us as we approached. She flashed a wicked grin as we showed our badges. “Good evening ladies, I’m detective Walter Marshall and this is my partner Chris Maxwell.” I looked at him, his hands shaking as he held up his badge for them to see. Rolling my eyes i turned back to their leader, “We are looking for the particular girl that uses this stuff” pulling the evidence bag from the folder revealing the small container of strawberry body glitter “ It is called Strawberry Lust Dust” The redhead girl smirked and uncrossed her legs and left them slightly parted “That would be me doll” she stood and sauntered over.

She went to Maxwell first, it was dark here but it wasn't hard to guess that  he was blushing harder than a cherry tomato. “Come with me gentlemen '' she purred as she grabbed Maxwell's tie and pulled him along behind her. I let out at chuckle as we walked down a hallway past a velvet curtain to a private area, she pulled Maxwell to a stop and pushed him back into a chair and summoned me with a come hither gesture and pushed me into the chair before her “That’ll be $60'' maxwell happily handed her the money as she giggled wickedly and began to dance, she straddled my lap, and pushed her breast into my face and giggled “ Ms. I am here to talk about Alex O’Connell.." I trailed off as she climbed off my lap and started swaying her hips to the beat of the music. “ You're not so interested in talking now are you, baby?” she wiggled her eyebrows at me in a seductive manner as she crouched, opening her legs so we could see her run her hands from below the belt up to her neck as she stood and whipped her hair around.

 Clearing my throat, “ Alex O’Connell, he was next in line to be the senator may have been a client of yours ” she turned to face me still swaying her hips “Yea Alex he is a regular what about him?” She put one leg between my thighs and bent over, shaking her ample cleavage in my face, her body shimmering in the low light. Standing back up she continued to dance “We found evidence that you gave him a lap dance the night that he died” i spoke.

“He died? Whoa” she sat down on my thigh and released a heavy breath.”  gave him a couple of dances the Thursday night, he was pretty drunk. He got in a fight and Marcus threw him  both out.” she looked at me to maxwell and back to me “Wait am i a suspect because all i do i gyrate and that has never killed anyone” Maxwell stifled a laugh, i cleared my throat “ Did he get into a fight with the bouncers?” she was tapping her nails on her heel “ No it was another politician, blonde hair, Joey something” Maxwell shot up from his seat “ Joe Evans, he lied to me, we should go talk to him” i nodded and he pointed to the girl on my lap “Then ask her to get up” she smiled wickedly “I think thats going to be kinda awkward isnt it now baby doll” i huffed a laugh “That's my gun” she giggled wickedly “Maxwell wait for me outside” he was hesitant to go “Now Maxwell” he took off without a second glance.

 She stood from my lap and took a few steps back “Amelia” I growled “Come here now” she shook her head at me “Make me Daddy” . She called me from her spot. “Baby girl now” she sauntered towards me, I gripped her by her hips and pulled her onto my lap, grabbing her jaw and forcing her to look at me. “ I should spank you for that stunt you pulled, your lucky Maxwell has no idea who you are” she pouted at me with those blood red lips “ Fuck, your lips would looks so good wrapped around my cock right now” he gave me a shy smile, leaning back, i pulled out my throbbing cock and began to stroke myself “Now dance for me little one and when i tell you, you better suck down every last drop do you understand 2me?” she nodded and began to dance for me again.

She climbed that pole and danced like she owned that room. Just as I could feel my balls tighten, she climbed off the stage and purposefully bent over and showed me her wet panties. “Get over here now” she turned round and took my cock into her mouth. I wrapped her hair around my fist and the other one around her throat. “Such a good fucking girl” she hummed and started working me with her mouth, doing that thing with her tongue, she sent me over the edge. She continued to swallow me down till I dragged her up my body and devoured her mouth with mine. Pulling away, as she caught her breath “ I’m not done with you yet little one, I’ll see you soon” “Yes sir” she giggled and climbed to her feet giving me a quick kiss on my cheek before she sauntered away to fix the lipstick smeared all over her face. Stopping at the gentlemen's room getting off what I could , I made my way to my truck where Maxwell was waiting for me. Starting the truck and getting ready to leave, I looked at the time 12:30 am. Grabbing my phone i sent her a quick text “Be ready my little darling, you have yet to receive proper punishment”

#henry cavill characters #henry cavill #henry cavill imagine #henrycavill smut #walter marshall fanfiction

[writingbyshiloh]

Part 6

Parts 1-5

CW: Reader gets injured on the job!,(TBH it could be either hand as long as you have a weird handshake),Making out in a closet. Flashbacks to when Ressler walked in on R and Red having sex (part 2) and Liz and the earring (part 3)

WC: 2.3 (!!!!)

AN: Reader did work with a mob team, Flashback to when Ressler slept with Samar in season 4. I’ve never broken a bone so I tried to google as best as I could :) It ends a but abrutly, but I tried for an hour to work out a better ending and nada

Thank you to everyone who read the series, esp those who provided kind comments/feedback/let me bounce ideas off of them!! Whether you read just half of a chapter or all 6 I truly appreciate it. 7 months later we are done!!! 

“And how is the happy couple doing?” Reddington asks, sliding up next to you at the bar. 

“Oh, you know. Hopefully going to get into a huge argument in 10 minutes,” you reply. 

The task force was undercover at a cocktail party, to which a known member of the Blacklist was invited. Red and Liz are paired up, same with you and Ressler, while Samar and Aram are in the van, monitoring everyone. 

The first part of the plan was for Reddington and you to point out the mob member - Sonny Someone or other. Raymond knew them through business, while you knew him from trying to take him down while on a mob squad. 

Part two was you and your “husband” of the evening get into a fight, giving a reasonable excuse to not be mingling with others hoping to let Ressler bond with some of the other criminals. 

Currently, it's part three. You’re slinking around the halls of the event while not being outed as an FBI agent. Your bigger task is making sure you and Reddington are safe from any mob-connected individuals who may want him dead.

You’re both out of sight, being tucked into a storage room with your back uncomfortable against a shelf with a first aid kit next to you, while his hands gently squeeze your hips.

“We shouldn’t. Everyone here is suspicious!” you hiss, weakly protesting his advances, knowing you’re going to give in. He looks too good and you haven’t spent any time with him in the past two weeks outside of work.  

“Personally, I’ve always found the threat of death an aphrodisiac. Don’t you?” 

You rest your forehead on his shoulder, trying to hide your smile. What do you possibly say to that? You let out a small snort of laughter.

His lips dropped to your neck, kissing any exposed skin. You sigh, not daring to make a louder noise. Your arms, however, pulled him closer. 

Dipping your head, you tried to catch his lips with your own. He understands and brings his lips to yours, gently tugging your bottom lip with his teeth as a suggestion of you opening your mouth.

The squeaking of hurried dress shoes caused you to break apart, both leaning closer to the door to hear what's happening. 

You can hear Ressler's voice, strained as if he is jogging, saying, “They said they’re going down this hall, I just don’t see them!” 

On instinct, you flinch back, knocking the first aid kit off the shelf. You wince hearing the dull smack of the kit hitting the floor, then wince harder at the steps before the door. 

You barely hear the end of Donald's phone call, the opening of the door distracting you. Raymond positions his body in front of you, in case of the possibility that it's not Ressler on the other side of the door, but an attacker. 

“What the fuck.” is the only thing Donald can manage. 

You understand how bad the situation looks, Raymond Reddington looking flushed, and you standing behind. You see emotions flit across his face, not quite sure what to say. You squeeze past Reddington to go closer to Ressler. 

Your motion spurs Ressler into action. 

“Are you out of your mind? He's a criminal!” Ressler hisses at you, trying to keep his voice down. 

Reddington wants to correct him, pointing out that he is one of the most wanted criminals but the look you shoot at him makes him close his mouth. 

“It's not that bad!” you protest trying to save face. 

“It is!” 

“It's not!” 

“Does Cooper know?” Ressler lets out a small huff of a laugh “Does Liz know?”

“NO! You’re the first to know. But you can’t tell anyone. Please.” you beg.

“What's stopping me?” 

“I never told a soul about you sleeping with a subordinate! I planned to take that shit to the grave!” 

“A subordinate? I never knew you had it in you, Donald.” Reddington chimes in from behind.

A new voice around the corner makes you all freeze. You’re certain it's Sonny from listening to his voice through surveillance plans. 

Ressler’s comments and discovery have your nerves set ablaze but you still have enough sense to get your work weapon out and ready. You see Ressler do the same. 

Catching Reddington's eye, you jerk your head to the side, trying to get him to go behind you and Donald. He returns with a bewildered look as if you thought he’d willingly place you in danger. 

All three of you are pressed against the wall, trying to figure out what to do next. Ressler is in front of you, Reddington close behind. 

The voice is nearer, talking but no one is answering. Ressler uses his free hand to make the sign of a phone using his thumb and pinky. You nod in agreement. 

Your stress-addled brain tells you this is the best time to get your man. 

Rounding the l-shaped corner you smack into Sonny, trying to come across as a distracted and drunk partygoer, not an FBI agent on the verge of losing their job. 

“I’m sorry! I should watch where I’m going.” You apologize, trying to buy some time for Ressler and Reddington to understand your plan. 

“It is okay. Sonny.” He introduces himself. His hand is extended for a handshake but you would know him without the introduction. You spent months trying to get a lead on the racketeering he's done. 

You take his hand without thinking, glad he doesn’t recognize you. His left hand is on your right, patting your hand. You want to pull your arm away but can’t, wanting to stay in partygoer character. 

It's too fast for you to react until your index and middle fingers are bent back and you're gasping out in pain. 

Your surprise shouting alerts the two men behind you. With your half-baked plan ruined, they round the corner to come and find you and Sonny. 

With the mob member gone, you hold your hand in shock, telling Ressler to go after the mob guy. Instead of following your order, Ressler communicates with Samar and Aram in the van, telling them that Sonny ran towards the exit. 

The combined adrenaline of undercover, being found out, and having at least one finger broken is what keeps you from crying. Or at least what you tell yourself. 

 ----

Hospitals are never your favourite place, but it's exceptionally awkward now. Reddington is off doing something (he sent someone from his team to pay the leftover medical bills) to save some face. You have two broken fingers and want nothing more than to go home. 

Ressler is keeping you company (you suspect he's also the reason a nurse has checked in on you twice in the past 15 minutes). He only left briefly for Cooper to call you to say you’re not fired, but one out of the three weeks off (suggested by the doctor) was a suspension. Inappropriate relationship with a CI. But with the black site, nothing will stay on your file. 

Outside the room, you hear the voices from your team, most of them hushed, one angry. 

Aram being on the verge of tears is not what you expected to see when. You expected anger, or arguing, but not this level of upset from your close friend. Knowing Aram’s tendency to talk when nervous you’re sure he's going to tell you what's going on. 

“Why would you cheat on Dembe with Mr. Reddington?” The hurt in his voice is obvious. 

You can't control the way your jaw drops in shock or the way that your eyes widen. The doctor only gave you regular painkillers, but now you’re wondering if they’re making you loopy. You make eye contact with Ressler, who slowly shakes his head, not wanting to be part of this. 

“Cheat? On Dembe! What does Dembe have to do with this?” you can only hope that no one else can hear the conversation. 

“Dembe! Your boyfriend?” Aram fills you in.

“My who?”

“You’re dating Dembe. The evidence adds up.” Samar chips in. 

“What evidence do you even have?” 

“What about the earrings you left at the safe house? You and Dembe kept looking at each other and the earrings.” Liz supplies.

“Who remembers things like that?” Fucking profilers apparently. 

“What about how you light up when Dembe comes into the post office?” 

Okay. Maybe you’re not as subtle as you think you are. In your defence, however, that would be because he walks in with Raymond. 

“It's even more messed up that it’s with his boss!” 

You suppose it is a good thing your coworkers are so sharp, trying to tease information from your personal life to fit into their theory. 

“What if I told you I’m not actually dating Dembe. So your theory sucks.” 

Maybe you are getting a bit worked up. You watch the wheels spin in their head, trying to figure out. 

Aram is the first to put the pieces together “Mr. Reddington? He's like 60!” 

“That's why you dropped your coffee when Aram asked how things are with Mr. Right! You heard Mr. R and jumped to the conclusion. ” Liz supplies. It takes everything in you not to ask if this is the hospital where her ex-fiancé works. 

You meet Samar’s eye and she frowns in a way that says not too bad. You make a mental note to ask her what the fuck that means. 

“Does Cooper know?” 

“Do I know what?” The man himself asks, entering your hospital room, a bottle of juice from the vending machine for you tucked under his arm. 

If it didn't make you want to crawl into a hole, his timing would be comedic. His appearance still makes you pleased, he can't be that mad if he is visiting you, and bringing you a gift.

“Yes! Can we stop talking about it now?” you plead. 

Your idea is shot down to a chorus of “no!”s. 

“Hand me my drink, I will answer one question each. Choose wisely.” You say. Might as well get something out of this situation. 

---

“If you clench your jaw any harder we'll have to turn back.” you joke to Ressler, his knuckles white with how hard he is gripping the steering wheel. It was nice of him to drive you home, but his anger for you is coming and going in waves.

“You know, it's a shame how you never managed to catch Reddington before the task force started.” you notice his back stiffen at the mention of the FBI most wanted. You pretend to study your splint before continuing. “And do you remember when you wanted to drop off the files at my apartment? At literally the worst possible time?” 

For the first time since being in the car, he looks at you. 

“I bet you're the first FBI agent to walk in on the most wanted having s-” 

“Stop talking.”

---

It's a rarity to see Reddington unsure of himself. Even when you’re alone with him, he carries himself with confidence. Now he looks torn between making sure you’re okay and leaving you alone. 

“You can ask, you know,” you say, putting down your phone. The news about your fingers has spread to non-FBI friends, but typing with one hand is getting exhausting. 

“How did it go?” He’s sitting next to you, as close as he dared reading his newspaper. 

“Better than expected. No more broken limbs, everyone still talking to me, I’m still employed.” 

You shift the bag of frozen strawberries on your hand to get more of the cold. 

“Cooper called me on the way to the hospital, I was slapped with inappropriate relationships with a CI, much better than with a wanted criminal.” You smile, trying to lighten the mood. “Cooper also said he wouldn’t tell the team if he didn't want me to.” 

“But you did. Liz called, and let's just say your friends care about you.” 

Your chest feels warm at the idea of your friends fighting on your behalf. 

“I didn’t, they figured it out. I think all Ressler told them was he found us in a closet. It's whatever. I don’t think I could figure out another reason why it's so funny when he offs to beat up the mystery man.” 

“Yes, he always is a real go-getter, isn't he?” Raymond agrees. 

You press your lips together to hide your guilty expression. Reddington notices and his hand creeps up to the back of your neck, trying to be reassuring. You lean your body weight into him trying to get comfortable. 

“The next time you see Ressler one-on-one” at least you hope he respects you enough to not talk about your sex life with everyone “he's going to have some choice words.” 

You twist your head to look at Reddington's face, eyebrows raised slightly, tongue between his teeth as he tries to understand what you’re going to say. 

“I may have brought up how he, um, interrupted us one time,” you say. Now is not the time to bring up what other sexy details you shared with the team while he was unnamed. 

“Is that why he ran as soon as your door opened?” 

“Yeah, I think I traumatized him in the car.” 

 “He’s a strong man, he’ll live.” 

#raymond reddington x reader #raymond reddington fan fic #raymond reddington x you #the blacklist x reader #the blacklist fanfic #5+1

[101crows]

Invaluable Asset

AN: this could be a series, but for now I'm going to write it to be a stand alone. Please let me know if you want to see more! This takes. place in season one, sometime after episode 16. Ressler might be a little OOC.

"You're trying to tell me you don't know a single person good enough to steal these cars?"

Reddington sighed deeply, "Of course I do. But they lack a certain talent for subtlety that's necessary for this task. I'm not some type of magician, I can't just pull criminals out of my hat for you."

Cooper turned sharply. "And how exactly do you expect us to find an actor turned car thief willing to go undercover for us?"

"I can't possibly imagine how that's my problem. Either you figure it out or Amíl will be gone in less than a week. And once he's gone, you'll never so much as hear of him again." He placed his hat back on his head and turned to leave, strolling to the elevator with the same easy confidence he always seemed to have.

"For now, I have other matters to attend to."

The elevator closed just as Red finished speaking.

"Well?" Cooper asked Liz, "How do you suggest we go about this?"

Surprisingly, however, it was Ressler that answered.

"I think I know someone."

~

You were just pulling the muffins out of the oven when the doorbell rang.

"One second!" You called, hoping they could hear you as you pulled out the second tray and placed it onto the waiting trivet. You removed your oven mitts and set them on the counter between the two trays, then made your way to the front door. Your eyes lit up as you spotted Donnie through the tall windows. Taking two long strides to reach the door, you flung it open, a wide grin dancing on your lips.

"Donnie! Hi, I feel like I haven't seen you in forever!"

It took everything in you not to pull him in for a hug, but you knew he didn't like spontaneous physical contact, so you abstained. Donnie coughed and shifted uncomfortably and you finally registered the two others standing next to him.

The brunette had an apologetic smile on her face, but the older man looked more amused than anything.

You scanned them briefly. Deciding they looked harmless enough, you stepped back to let them in. Besides, you trusted Donnie not to bring anyone dangerous to your door.

"Nice suit. It looks good on you. Come on in, we can talk while I make the drizzle for these muffins. I hope y'all like lemon,"

You turned and led them through the house and into the kitchen, humming at the thanks you received for the compliment. You also fought off a smile when you heard him mutter something about 'good taste' to the woman.

"So," you said, carefully adding powdered sugar to the bit of lemon juice you had left, "I'm assuming this visit is for business rather than pleasure?"

"Unfortunately. I have a favor to ask of you."

"Alright," you replied. Deciding the drizzle was at the consistency you wanted, you began to spoon it over the muffins. "I can tell this is serious, and the kitchen counter is no place to discuss serious business. Donnie, could you grab plates for everyone? We'll talk about this further in the living room. Please try to keep crumbs on your plates, I cleaned the couches yesterday."

~

You stared incredulously at your friend and his two companions, whose names you'd learned were Liz and David, though you suspected the man was lying.

"I'm sorry, let me get this straight. You spent three years trying to get me to stop stealing cars and remove myself from this life of crime, you helped me move to get away from that life and be closer to you, and now you're telling me you want me to go steal cars in your name?"

David smiled and leaned back in his chair, "Yes."

"No." Donnie glared so hard you thought he might punch David in the face before returning his gaze to you. "Of course I don't want you to go back to stealing cars. But we need someone to go undercover for us, and unfortunately I seem to know the only car thief good enough at acting to help."

"Ex car thief, Donnie. I don't do that shit anymore."

You sighed and buried your face in your hands, dragging them down until your eyes were uncovered. "But you're my friend, and I help my friends. What do you need me to do?"

David sat back up and turned to the woman, who hadn't so much as touched her muffin.

"You really ought to try the muffins. They're incredible. As for what you need to do, we'll need you to get the attention of a certain criminal, so you're going to need you to break into his car. Don't take it though, it needs to look like you did it just to prove you could. Once you've done that, you'll have to convince him to let you join his operation instead of murdering you. Can you do that?"

You weighed your options silently. On one hand, what they were asking of you was incredibly dangerous, and even though you knew it was necessary, the idea of purposely being caught set every part of you on edge.

On the other hand though, Donnie would never ask you to do something like this unless he was truly desperate, and you trusted him not to let you get hurt. Still, he couldn't prevent every danger and doing this would be taking a huge risk.

"Which criminal?"

Liz finally added her two cents into the mix.

"I'm terribly sorry, but that's classified. Unless we have positive confirmation you'll be helping us, he'll have to remain unnamed."

A sharp, angry smile made its way onto your face.

"I'm sorry, you're not just asking me to put my life on the line, you're also asking me to risk everything I've worked so hard to build. Even if I do this, and by some miracle this man doesn't murder me, soon everyone will know who I am and what I did, and if my old employers get a hold of that information, I will be hunted, tortured, and killed. So you can either tell me who's car I'll be stealing and take the risk that I might say no, or you can get the hell out of my house right now and know for certain that you squandered your best chance of catching this man. Do I make myself clear?"

Liz opened her mouth to respond, but David cut her off before she could say anything else.

"Vicente Amíl."

"Jesus fucking Christ," you muttered.

"I'll do it. But just so we're clear, you owe me. Big time."

You locked eyes with Donnie, who sagged with visible relief.

"Thank you, (Y/n). You have no idea what this means to me."

You shook your head, standing. "I'm the stupidest person in the entire world. I can't believe I'm doing this for you. Also," you added, turning back to Liz, "It's incredibly rude not to eat food someone serves you in their home. If you didn't like lemons, you should've said so before I served you."

You turned your attention back to the boys. "You, on the other hand, should take a few muffins to go. Thank you for being so polite. You're welcome back anytime. Donnie, always good to see you, even if you are requesting impossible things from me. Please see Liz out."

Donald raised an eyebrow at that. "Just Liz?"

You glanced back at him and smiled. "And yourself, please. Do come back later though, I'm dying to catch up. David and I are going to get him his muffins."

Though polite, your tone left no room for argument and you could faintly hear Donnie and Liz arguing as they walked to the door. Once the door finally closed, you turned your attention back to the man in the center of your house.

"Wonderful. Now that they're gone, may I have your real name please? I do tire of calling you by your alias."

You watched as he chuckled and rose from his chair, strolling towards the hall leading back to the kitchen. "Raymond Reddington, at your service. It's a pleasure to meet someone so very talented."

"Please," you replied smoothly, "The pleasure is all mine. I meant what I said, by the way. Feel free to drop by whenever. I'm usually off Friday through Sunday and there's a good chance I'll be baking something else. Helps relax me, and my coworkers enjoy whatever I make as well."

He smiled as you handed him a Tupperware container with four muffins safely nestled inside. Placing his hat back upon his head, he made his way to the door, and you took notice of the glint in his eye right before he left.

"I'm sure I'll be seeing you quite soon, (Y/n)."

You leaned against the wall and watched him saunter to the car waiting for him. A different car than Donnie and Liz took, by the looks of it. The corners of your lips twitched up as you watched him go.

"Raymond Reddington, huh? What an interesting man."

P.S. The muffins mentioned are real muffins. Feel free to let me know if you want the recipe.

#the blacklist x reader #the blacklist #raymond reddington x reader #raymond reddington #raymond “red” reddington #reddington x reader #x reader #special thanks to @writingbyshiloh for inspiring me to finish this fic #comments and reblogs are always appreciated <3 #i love him your honor #the ending feels a little rushed but it's already much longer than what I usually write

[imago1603]

Donald Ressler's whump!list

1.3. "Wujing"  punched and slammed his forehead towards glass, bloody bruises on his forehead.

1.4 "The Stewmaker" punched in the back of his head, restrained

1.5 "The Courier" cut himself on his left forearm to protect his cover

1.6 "Gina Zanetakos" got involved into a fight with Gina in a lift, got punched in a face, been suffocated in a chokehold till unconscious, disoriented afterwards, bruises on his face. Saves everyone by risking his life when drives a car with a 'dirty' bomb inside, jumps out of moving vehicle, in pain. 

1.9 "Anslo Garrick" shot, bleeding out, field care, blood transfusion, unconscious

1.10 "Anslo Garrick Conclusion" slapped, tortured, threatened, recovering in hospital 

1.11 "The Good Samaritan" limping for the wound in his leg

1.12 "The Alchemist" still limping 

1.13 "The Cyprus Agency"  hit by car, pain to his leg for a little while 

1.14 "Madeline Pratt" got in a fight capturing a criminal, got hit in a face couple times, no harm

1.15 "The Judge" was caught off guard while looking for a suspect, probably got hit off screen, no visible damage in the next scene 

1.16 "Mako Tanida" threatened by serial killer, attacked, heart broken, nosed in the car, passed out, several bruises on his face. 

1.18 "Milton Bobbit" shot in the chest but fake scene

2.6 "The Mombasa Cartel" kidnapped, drug problem

2.7 "The Scimitar" sedated, unconscious, hospital, car accident, head wound

2.9 "Luther Braxton" suspended from ceiling by chains around the neck, slowly choked

2.10 "Luther Braxton Conclusion" fought for his life, punched, roughly fallen to the ground, bruises on his throat for had been hanged with a chained noose around his neck

2.12  "The Kenyon Family" involved in car accident, bruises on his forehead, got stuck into the car, captured, tied by his feet and dragged by motorcycle

2.21 "Karakurt" involved into an explosion blast, slammed against a car, bruises on his face 

3.2 "Marvin Gerard" involved into a car incident he provolked, fought, bruise on his forehand 

3.3 "Eli Matchett" fought, punched, bloody bruises on his forebrown and chin

3.11 "Mr. Gregory Devry" fallen from a moving truck against a car windshield, a little dazed

4.7 "Dr. Adrian Shaw" pepper sprayed in the face, stingy eyes, no harm

4.19 "Dr. Bogdan Krilov" struck by a stunning bomb and hit his head against the dresser and passed out, bloody cut on his forehead, tied up drugged and memories manipulated, bruise on his hand where drugs were injected 

5.4 "The Endling" hit by explosion blast and slammed towards the wall, dizzy and ears hissing

5.5 "Ilyas Surkov" hit by explosion blast, flew into the air, surprisingly not harmed 

5.10 "The Informant" got slapped by Presscott, ready to surrender to the police for his crime, saved by Red 

5.12 "The Cook" fought, been hit in a face 

5.14 "Mr. Raleigh Sinclair III" close call, almost got shot, criminal missed

6.18 "The Brockton College Killer" fought, punched

6.19 "Rassvet"  fought, punched, no further damage 

7.8 "The Hawaladar" fought, suffocated in a choke hold, can’t get up, coughing. lost consciousness, headache afterwards 

8.3 "16 Ounces" hit by explosion blast, many bloody cuts and treated in hospital, grimacing

8.19 "Balthazar "Bino" Baker" into a car accident and dizzy, shot and under gunpoint, hunted down, grunting and coughing, bleeding and treated on the field with makeshift equipment, panting and grunting, under gunfire, dizzy, unconscious and pale, carried in arms, surgery on the field, laying unconscious on a table with a cannula at his nose, IV and patch stained of blood, tube into his chest 

8.20 "Godwin Page" laying unconscios in recovery in hospital, septicemia, intubated and unconscious, crisis

8.22 "Konets" still in hospital, weak, in pain, checked himself out before full recovery 

9.7 "Between Sleep and Awake" in pain still suffering from chest wound from season 8, car crash, in hospital, pneumothorax, in hospital in wheelchair, drug use, severely beaten, emotional whump, in grief

#the black list #donald ressler #whump!ressler #my art #sketching

[letthewhumpbegin]

BTHB voting #9

My goal for this year is to complete my new Bad Things Happen Bingo Card😇. I've never before produced that much fanfics in one year, so we'll see how it goes 😁

You, my dear readers, followers and accidental-passers-by, get to vote who / what fandoms the prompts will get filled for! Over the next weeks I will post a poll per prompt, and you can get voting 😉

The 9th prompt is: AMBULANCE RIDE

For a 'look-and-feel' of my writing, check out my writing masterlist

#ltwbpolls #eddie diaz #911 fox #spencer reid #criminal minds #tim gutterson #justified #eli loker #lie to me #donald ressler #the blacklist #sam winchester #supernatural #whump #whump writing #whump fanfic #whump fanfiction #fanfiction #bthb card #bad things happen bingo

[raymond-reddington-ruminations]

Title:By The Horns

Date:July 14th, 2023.

Series:The Blacklist

Category: Finale fix-it fic

Main characters: Donald Ressler, Raymond Reddington

Rating: PG-13

Tags: The Blacklist, Redarina (implied)

*I made up the quotes from Liz in here because I figure they must have had these conversations, even if we didn't see them on screen.*

It was damn lucky that he'd come in a helicopter. As tiny as it was they managed to get Reddington onto the collapsible emergency backboard, and maneuvered him inside. Donald Ressler got Reddington to a medical center inside of 20 minutes of noticing the seemingly dead man twitch.

Now Ressler sat in a side room off of a short hallway. Calling it a waiting room was too generous a term for this tiny little emergency medical center. His elbows rested on his knees and his forehead in his hands. He was shaking, and his vision was off somehow, as it had been since he found Reddington stomped into the ground by the bull. A tornado of conflict like he'd never quite known ran through him. He should be doing something else. He should be calling Cooper back. That wail that had come from Dembe when he'd told them he was standing over Red's body.

But then the twitch, the pulse check, the noise of the helicopter and the urgency of the doctors and nurses. He hadn't had a chance to call them back, to tell them that the man was still alive.

"Not yet," a voice in the back of his head whispered.

Reddington might not make it. Ressler would wait for the doctor to give him some news first.

"There's another reason," the same voice in his head responded.

Shut up, he told it. Are you the devil or the angel on my shoulder?

The voice smiled back. It had Reddington's smug little smile.

The Doctor who had taken Reddington into another room off the hallway charged back out and began loudly calling for the attention of everyone in spanish. He pointed to different people in turn, demanding something. Most people shrugged or shook their heads, but some responded with at least one letter of the alphabet and Ressler understood that.

"A…".

"AB…".

He charged to his feet and quickly advanced to the doctor. "Blood types? Is that what you're asking for? Blood types??! I'm B negative!"

Ressler proffered his arm and slapped the inside of his elbow. "B negative! We're a match! We've done a blood transfer before!"

"Yes, yes!" The doctor grabbed his arm and ushered him into the room where Reddington lay on a stretcher. An oxygen mask was over his face, a brace around his neck, a heart monitor was beeping threadily, and a battered looking portable x-ray machine was being maneuvered over him by two nurses.

Ressler was ushered into a chair next to Reddington, and in short order Resslers blood was trailing through an IV tube into Reddington's arm. The beep of the heart monitor became stronger, more certain of itself. Red's chest began to noticeably rise and fall, something that Ressler hadn't been able to see out in that field.

The nurses finished their scans of Reddington's body and left. They were suddenly alone in the small, cramped room together, with the beep of the monitors and the ticking of a large wall clock. Resslers slow, controlled blood loss was combining with jet lag, and taking its effect on him. He felt drowsy and light, as if he was floating. He found himself looking over at his long-time nemesis, battered and bloodied, unconscious beside him. What a long road this had been. There had been so much loss. Liz. Where did it all end?

There were things he should be doing, like making that phone call. Why wasn't he?

"It'll limit your options. Wait. No one knows but you."

Son of a bitch. It out and out sounded like Reddington in his head now.

He drifted for a bit, not the least bit comfortable with deciding not to decide. Wait and see. Wait for the doctor. Ignore the fact that Red's condition should have nothing to do with Resslers' job.

The doctor returned, going to the wall and turning on a light board. He put up an x-ray of Reddington's skull, and began talking and gesturing to it. When he paused to look back at Ressler, he took in the other man's complete lack of comprehension. After a moment of hesitation, the doctor pointed to Reddington's nose area on the x-ray. He held out his fist horizontally, with the thumb extended to the side. Then he turned his fist so that the thumb was pointed up. He pointed to the area on the x-ray over Reddington's left eye, another place that was still bloody on Reddington's face. Again he started with the thumb extended to the side, and turned his fist so that the thumb was part way up.

"Ok, I got it. Injured, but not so bad."

The doctor put up another x-ray, and pointed his finger down the spine, continuing to talk, but not stopping there. Red's ribs and left forearm each got a big thumbs down, not that Ressler needed that interpretation. He could see for himself the shattered bones in the image. He shifted in his seat, registering his own sore ribs, thanks to Red's marksmanship just days ago. He didn't want to think about that. The voice in the back of his head had been all too convincingly suggesting that in Red's shoes, Ressler would have had to pull the trigger on Hudson himself.

The doctor moved on to an x-ray of Reddington's pelvis, but after just a moment he took it down again. He began flipping through the folder of x-rays in his hands, muttering to himself. He took the X-ray of the pelvis, and compared the numbers on it to the numbers on several of the other x-rays. He seemed confused. Then he left the room.

Donald waited, blinking hard and trying to shake off the faint dizziness. The clock on the wall told him it had been just over an hour since he had first found Reddington in that field.

The doctor returned with a younger woman, in different colored, more decorative scrubs. He put the pelvis X-ray back on the wall, and pointed at it accusingly, seemingly demanding something from the woman. She took the X-ray down, and again compared the numbers on it to the other x-rays. Then she put it back up, gesturing to it and speaking in a deliberately reasonable tone of voice. The doctor cut her off heatedly, gesturing to Reddington and back to the x-ray.

"What's going on?" Ressler leaned forward in his chair, reminding them of his presence.

"Ah. English." The woman spoke haltingly. She pointed at Reddington. "Friend?"

He stared hard at her for a moment. Then raised his fist horizontally, with his thumb out to the side.

"Ah," she replied, though her expression was clearly confused. She pointed to the X-ray, and then pointed to Reddington, and fumbled for the english words. "...tr….uhm…g…ch, change?"

He looked at her blankly, and shook his head that he didn't understand.

She turned back to the light board, and moved Reddington's pelvis x-ray to the side. She shuffled through a folder of x-rays in her own hands, and put up two more x-rays, both of them pelvises. She pointed to the first one, which was longer, narrower, with a smaller oval in the center, mostly taken up by the tail end of the spine. Then with the same hand she reached down and seemingly grabbed her crotch, Michael Jackson style. Ressler blinked, hard, and leaned back, baffled.

The woman pointed to the second new x-ray, where the pelvis was shorter, wider, and had a larger oval in the middle with far less of the tail of the spine showing in it. She then pointed to her midsection, and with her arm drew the shape of a pregnancy belly in the air in front of her.

"Yeah, I do know that. Men and women have different shaped pelvises." Basic forensics had been a long time ago, and he'd never had to make the identification himself, but in theory he could.

The woman slid the two x-rays apart, and popped Reddington's in between them. Then her finger shifted back and forth between all three.

Reddington's x-ray was in between, literally and descriptively. Wider, but also taller. A larger oval, with less tail bone in it. The areas that made the pelvis look taller had different levels of brightness on the outer edges, which Ressler knew from looking at his own x-rays over the years denoted bone growth.

But that large oval in the center, with the small amount of tailbone. That was distinctive.

"No," he said. He pointed at the X-ray, pointed at Reddington, and shook his head. "That's not his x-ray. Obviously."

The woman also pointed to the X-ray and to Reddington, and nodded her head insistently. She took the pelvis x-ray down, and lined it up in her hand with the skull x-ray, the arm x-ray, and x-rays of Reds clearly broken leg after it. She pointed to the upper right corner where the numbers were, and Donald could clearly see that the numbers were sequential. Each x-ray changing by only one number. The pelvis x-ray belonged in the middle of the bunch. He stared in confusion.

The doctor spoke up again, sounding annoyed and arrogant. The woman slapped the pelvis X-ray back up, drawing her finger around the oval in the center emphatically. She pointed to tiny, long-healed cracks that showed around the oval, speaking to the doctor sharpley, and again drawing the pregnant belly in the air in front of her. She pointed at Reddington, threw her hands up in finality, and stalked out of the room.

There was an awkward silence. Then the doctor shuffled his files, stared at the floor, and left.

Ressler sat alone again in the room with Reddington, looking at the X-ray in confusion and dizziness. A group of nurses came, bringing him some orange juice. They quickly and efficiently cut off most of Red's clothing, put his arm in a cast, and bound his leg in a brace. They elevated the bed and carefully supported Red's unconscious upper body as they wrapped his ribs.

Red's entire upper back and the backs of his upper arms were covered in burn scars.

"My father died in a fire when I was 4. He was fighting with my mother. I think Reddington was there."

Liz.

"He killed your mother right in front of you, you tried to kill him for it. Why are you forgiving him now?"

She hadn't answered him, that last time that he spoke to her, in his hospital bed just hours before she died. He never did learn why she backed down on going after Reddington for the seemingly unforgivable act of killing Liz's mother.

But there was that letter that Dembe had given to Elizabeth when he wasn't supposed to. It had seemed to cause such a rift between Red and Dembe. A secret, THE secret, revealed to Liz, finally, on the last day of her life.

Donald Ressler was not by any means stupid or slow. That damn voice in the back of his head was putting the pieces together, but the rest of him was resisting. He looked at the man in front of him, whom he'd been chasing for 15 years. It couldn't be, could it? It just wasn't possible, Reddington was far from being celibate. Someone would know, someone would talk.

"CRISPER gene editing was in use 20 years before anybody thought it was. Men can be implanted with uteruses and carry babies to term. Hooker robots. What exactly isn't possible, Donald?"

No. Not this. It couldn't be.

Alexander Kirk let Reddington go. Reddington would never say why.

Damn it, it fit. It fit so perfectly. It explained every. Damn. Thing. Why Reddington would give his very life to protect Liz, why he forgave her, and only her, every single time.

What the hell?! What the actual hell was he going to do with this??! It just couldn't be right!

A ringing cell phone made him jump, and he fumbled for his pocket one handed before realizing it was coming from the pile of Reddington's clothing nearby.

Shaken, he flipped open the basic phone, seeing the identifying name come up at the same time that the call became active.

Agnes.

"Pinky??! Pinky!!"

Away from the speaker for a moment; "He picked up! I told you! Pinky?? Pinky, say something! PINKY!!" She was escalating into higher panic with every plea.

Agnes. His goddaughter. That bright, beautiful little girl that was the last surviving piece of Liz.

"Not the last, Donald."

He cleared his throat, and spoke her name, in a voice that was clearly not the one she wanted to hear.

"NO! NO, I WANT PINKY! SAY SOMETHING PINKY, PLEASE!! " She was screaming now, and he could hear Cooper in the background, sounding tearful himself, trying to calm her.

Agnes and her Pinky were so close. Closer than Red and Liz had ever been. And he might actually be her Grand….oh god. The implications of it swirled around his brain. Even the lowest criminal, if they qualified as human at all, they couldn't not love their kids. Jesus, no wonder. Now it all made such terrible, tragic sense. Liz. Reddington should have told her.

"Cooper…Agnes, listen…" he tried to cut through her hysteria.

"Ah…nez…" Resslers' head snapped around at the muffled voice. Reddington, one eye flickering slightly, the other swollen shut, was trying to lean his head within the neck brace towards the phone.

"Hang on", he told them all, and pulled Red's oxygen mask just slightly offside, to hold the phone to his face.

"Ag..ness?"

"Pinky??! Is that you??!"

"Izz me…Izz you?"

"Oh God, oh God. Pops said a bull attacked you. He said you were dead! I told him I'd just talked to you!" She'd settled into sobbing her words out.

"Well zaz bullshi'. Heh. We gonna have burgers nex' time."

Bloody, bruised, and bound, Raymond Reddington still managed one of those little grins. Asshole.

"I love you so much, Pinky. Please come home. Don't stay away, just come home."

"Love you, see you zoon."

Ressler took the phone back, and clearly so did Cooper.

"Donald? What the hell??"

"Sorry, I..I really thought he was gone. Then I had to get him help…"

"I had to wait for Dembe to be sedated before I could come home. God, I've got to go back and tell him."

"Yeah. Cooper?"

"Yes?"

"…. I didn't call anyone. I'm here on my own."

There was a long pause of understanding.

"…. You're far from home Donald. Way out of our jurisdiction. I don't know what you can or can't do, or what you want to do. I only know what I would do in your place. I never want to hear her like that again."

"No. Me either."

"This isn't a bureau phone, Donald. This conversation didn't happen. The last one we had earlier, when you did call on a bureau phone, stands."

Ressler closed Reddington's phone.

Red was watching him out of one bleary eye, which seemed more alert by the second. He noticed the IV of blood connecting them.

"Full circle?"

"10 years…not that I really think I ever owed you anything. Except maybe a goodby."

He looked down, not sure where to go from here. He had committed to a course of action with Coopers unspoken consent and support. He was going to take no action at all.

There was no reason for him to stay here now. He could walk out, and Raymond Reddington would remain dead to all the world, with one hell of a tall tale about how he'd died gone out into the world, via the FBI.

Red watched him, picking up the situation easily. Softly, he asked; "Why?"

Red waited, the silence pregnant with tension.

Donald didn't know what to say. He wanted to talk, he wanted to question, and he wanted to forget.

"What…what is Agnes's blood type?"

"Why would you…." Red's working eye had finally managed to focus behind Ressler, to the light board on the wall, where the image of his own pelvis was brightly lit. He was quiet for a minute, and then spoke slower more carefully than he had before.

"I knew how you felt about 'lizabeth, before she did. Before you did. I knew if I said anything good, she'd run the other way."

"So you made fun of me for eight years? Gee, thanks. Why'd you keep it up?"

"Habit. I wish you a good life, Donald."

"Yeah, you too. Red."

The end.

Note; The show is over. They can't say this didn't happen.

#the blacklist #raymond reddington #donald ressler #harold cooper #agnes keen #fanfiction #redarina

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

The Blacklist finale

Am I crazy or was the finale completely unsatisfying? We don’t actually get any answers on who Raymond really was nor what was in his letter to Elizabeth that made her so emotional she couldn’t pull the trigger which ended in her death. I mean, we don’t get any closure on what happens to the rest of the task force after Red was found dead. I wanted to see the next step in Ressler’s life, to see Harold retire and to see Agnes grown up chasing her own dream as suggested by Reddington. I wanted some sort of a conclusion, anything! Left me feeling in a slump after watching so long, invested in the mystery, only to end up with no actual answer to any of my questions.

#the blacklist #the blacklist finale #raymond reddington #donald ressler #i want answers not theories #why did they do this to me #and yes i know i am late since it aired like 10 days ago

[alyblacklist]

Hi!! Will Febressuary happen next year?

Good question. We were leaning against doing the full traditional event in 2023 when we thought new S10 eps would be airing throughout the month. It was really hard to keep up with the event plus new eps when we had a January premiere back in S6. However, we have also in the past done a "modified" event without the pressure of daily themes. I guess we should revisit the issue with the delayed premiere. Personally, I feel like there are so many Ressler edits out there on a daily/weekly basis now on Instagram that maybe it's redundant? And the Tumblr fandom is pretty dead. It gets harder every year to come up with new and interesting themes! But we had great participation and enthusiasm last year, especially with the expansion to instagram, so I'll discuss with @aussieokie and @nancyjocom to see what, if anything, we think we can manage. Thoughts and comments are welcome!

#anon #febressuary 2023

[ace-of-spaders]

They've got a routine.

Each night Red checks the locks on the doors (Dembe does that, too, but better to be safe than sorry), strips his armor, pours himself a glass (or five, depends on the day he's had), listens to music, goes to bed.

He burns.

Darkness embraces him like an old friend when he wakes up gasping and shaking, the phantom feeling of burning spreading through his long-numb back, tears making his vision blurry.

He gets up and pours himself another glass and changes the topic when Dembe asks him how was his sleep in the morning (with time, Dembe stops asking).

Each night Liz checks the locks on the doors (her dad taught her that it's better to be safe than sorry and she always took Sam's lessons to heart), pours herself a glass of wine, puts some sitcom or silly romcom on and falls asleep halfway through.

She cries.

Darkness winks at her from the corners of the room when she wakes up, gasping and shaking, the images of her dad gasping for breath during an especially bad attack, herself gasping for breath when phantom Tom's fingers close around her neck, Ressler bleeding out in a glass cage, Red stumbling after real Tom pulls the trigger and for one terrifying moment Liz thinks that his fatal bullet found its target all blending into one seemingly endless film, the credits of which start to roll only when she gets up.

She stares at her phone for a long time, debating whether she should call number 1 (who's long since moved up from number 7) on her speed dial and eventually deciding against it, and lies that she's just got a bit of a headache when a concerned Aram asks her if she's alright in the morning.

Two gunshots and one confession later, their routine changes.

They check the locks together – twice – discuss their plans for the next day and go to bed together, curling protectively around each other.

Red burns. Liz cries.

They hold each other and, with darkness surrounding them at all sides, make a promise to never let go.

The light finally comes out.

#elizabeth keen #raymond reddington #lizzington #my creations #my writing #my fics #I wrote this just because I looked at Lizzington tag and felt sad about the lull in our corner of fandom #and decided to write something to cheer up my fellow shippers that are still out there and still love and miss these two #and crave the new content like I know I do #I know I've been almost completely absent for the last... well... year #But I don’t want to be anymore #My heart is overflowing with love for Red and Lizzy #(not to mention that I've recently started a TBL watch/rewatch and already am feeling pretty inspired) #which I'd like to share with you all through whatever creative ways I'm capable of #(gifs and fics mostly) #and I intend to do just that #starting with this little drabbl-ish thing set between the end of the 1st season and the 3A aka the Golden Age of Lizzington #hope at least some of you will like it)

[kiss-my-freckle]

My season 10 prediction for Agnes.

I’ll try to make this as short as possible, but it’s been 6 seasons since Agnes was first brought into the show. I believe they aged her against their timeline for the sake of their religious aspect, and are returning to Lady Ambrosia’s episode.  

The age of religious maturity. Bat Mitzvah. The  end of adolescence. Lady Ambrosia. Rebirth, transformation, Red and Little Red. 

Red: Do you really want your child to pay the price for that mistake for the rest of his or her life?

Red has a term for this. It’s called a sin eater. 

Red: I’m a sin eater. I absorb the misdeeds of others, darkening my soul to keep theirs pure. That is what I’m capable of. 

Liz was the one considering giving her child up for adoption. 

Liz. I’m thinking about giving the baby up for adoption.

Ressler was the one completely against it. 

Ressler: I’m not saying it’s easy, but I’d never give up my kid for adoption.

Agnes is written with two different outcomes. One to parallel the very dead real Red, like those children in Lady Ambrosia. This is where “Little Red” Riding Hood comes in. Liz parallels Katarina due to her second memory wipe. That’s where Tom Keen comes in. 

Dom: For most people, baptism comes early. My daughter had to wait half her life to be reborn.

Aram: In fact, I was at your christening. You couldn’t have even been a - a few months old.

The age of religious maturity for girls is 12. like Anya in Lady Ambrosia. 

Tatiana: She's an angel.

Cooper: She’s 11.

Shuster: She’ll be… transformed.

Liz: I’ll be… transformed.

Liz: Speak of the devil. It's the devil.

Liz: I’m expecting a little devil of my own.

This is where Laurel Hitchin comes in. 

Hitchin: Hand to God, how amazing was Saturday? I know I’m his mom, but Philip’s Bar Mitzvah - cutest thing ever. Although my idiot husband did order 500 extra swag bags, so one for you, one for you -

Hitchin: The mint-chocolate candies are a little stale, but the red-velvet cake pops - to die for.

Ressler is the idiot husband who had red-velvet cupcakes with Liz on her birthday in The Longevity Initiative. 

Samar: What should I call you - my idiot boyfriend or my idiot husband?

Samar: I’m sorry. Excuse me. Could you help us? My husband is a complete idiot.

Liz: Hey, guys, what you got? Aram: A birthday card and 31 red-velvet cupcakes. Uh, well, uh, 30. I couldn’t resist. When are you coming back?

I believe Keenler baby will be revealed. 

Ressler: All this to hide an unwanted pregnancy? Who’s the mother? Pastor Darvis: There is no mother. I gave birth to Luke myself. 

Liz: Oh, my God. You’re not carrying a child. You’re carrying drugs?! Alexandra: I fell at the airport. I think maybe -  Maybe the package ruptured.

Ressler: The drug test came back negative. I’ve been reinstated, but, um– Park: But what? Ressler: The hormonal levels in my readings, they were irregular.

Red referred to Ressler as the second-string quarterback. Next thing you know, he’s seeing a sports doctor for his drug/pregnancy test. 

Ressler: What does that mean? Red: I mean - that if this were the high-school prom, she’d be the pretty loner standing on the sidelines, and you’d be the second-string quarterback guzzling down the punch, hoping to cop a feel off her during “Stairway to Heaven.”

Ressler: Is that even possible? Dr. Francis: I spent a decade as a team doctor for pro athletes. Believe me, when you’re playing for your next contract, anything’s possible. Those guys want it so badly, they’re willing to do anything. Are you?

Correction for both of them. 

Doctor: What it means is, you were pregnant.

Hannah Hayes, Marko Jancowics, The Avenging Angel. It’s not safe to assume Tom is the father. Better to actually know for sure, considering it took three DNA tests for Liz to find out her biological father was dead and buried. One in 4x7, one in 4x22, and one in 5x22.

Back to their religious aspect, Agnes now nearing 12, and the fact that 10 is the final season. Red is likely to die, leaving behind a criminal empire worth a great deal of money. As Agnes’ father, the discs meant for Liz would fit Ressler.

Red: You will have one blind spot, one weakness that can’t be willed out of you. And that’s Agnes. I have no advice for you there. All I can tell you is, uh - do your best, and hold on to that like it’s the last thing in your heart.

Dembe is now an FBI agent working alongside Ressler. This is how both Red’s granddaughter and Dembe’s granddaughter will become the new Red and Dembe. 

Dembe: Raymond! Ours is a friendship forged once in this life and again in the next. Goodbye, my brother.

Not like brothers, but like sisters - as they push to reveal Red is Katarina.  

Vasilia: The only thing that could change my mind is you bringing her back.

Liz: No matter what happens, I love you to the moon and back.

I’m fully predicting that Ressler and Agnes will find out they’re father and child, and they’ll have a reunion that mirrors Vasilia and Anya. I believe that’s why they’ve yet to actually give them a scene together. They’ve been keeping them apart for the sake of emotional impact. 

Vasilia: How did you find me?

From finding Liz. 

Aram: That’s right - Keen. K-E-E-N. First name’s Elizabeth.

To finding Agnes. 

Red: You were wrong about him once. What makes you so sure you’re not wrong this time?

That’s right - Ressler. R-E-S-S-L-E-R. First name’s Agnes. 

Red: R–O–M–E–O Romeo.

Another Theo was added to storyline in Ressler's S9 episode. Agnes is nearing 12 years old, the end of adolescence. Just listen to Red's story to Vasilia, and picture Wujing breaking Shuster out of prison.

Red: And old Zeeb had been signing, “My wife, my daughter, my life.” Six words, unspoken, convinced that guard to let us go.

Dead wife, dead child...

I suspect an attempted suffocation. Like Liz and the cellophane in 5x8. Like the bag Theo suffocated Ethan’s mother with. 

"Share it with someone special."

"I’ve been saving this for a special occasion."

"Oh, I think you’re very special."

My prediction: Wing Yee's and red-velvet cake pops to die for.

Time for Agnes’ 12th birthday, for Wing Yee’s and red-velvet cake pops to die for. All of it tying in Ressler’s sad flower of weddings past. Because Liz didn’t want to marry Tom. She wanted to marry the father of her child. [x]

#Anti-Tom Keen #Anti-Keen2 #Keenler baby theory

[writingbyshiloh]

Part 4. Cooper

Series Masterlist

CW: domestic red I think? (possibly) OOC Cooper, FBI!Reader 

AN: I pictured the show to be Euphoria, but no specific details so it can be any show with a drug dealer character. IDK Cooper's official rank and I am scared of spoilers so we just went with the assistant director. Just realized that if you read all the parts back 2 back then they are very similar but also ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. No beta

------

Reddington in the post office is a scene that never fails to surprise you. In the early days of the task force, he seems to be there frequently. As the years went, he saw less and less of the walls inside.  He never goes to the post office if he can help it, and you don’t blame him. 

You see Dembe nudge Reddington, a silent indicator for him to start talking about what he needs the team to do this week. 

As Reddington lectures, Liz interrupts and Aram pulls up the supporting documents and photos. Red usually tells Liz the details, and she tells the rest of the team.

You knew a tiny bit. He left shipping documents on his kitchen table a few nights ago while he went to the bathroom. He wouldn’t just leave documents lying around if he didn’t have a reason for you to see them. 

To keep yourself sane you set boundaries. If you're not working, or if someone isn't in immediate danger it is not your problem what Reddington is doing. This came after a series of him dropping clues and waiting for you to put the details together. 

You still listen, minus a few instances where you zone out thinking about Reddington's suit, waiting for the shipping documents to make some sense to you, but nothing yet. 

“Liz, you go with Reddington to the shipping docks. You two” Cooper points at you and Ressler “see what you can find with -” 

“I’ll go Ressler” Elizabeth cut in. 

Everyone turns to look at Liz. 

“I’ll go with Reddington” you suggest, pronunciation wobbly. You’re so used to Red, the “ington” feels off. 

“That was fast on the jump” Red notes, once you were out of the earshot of the group, preparing to go to the docks. 

You shrug. “It's so nice out. And I can not get caught in a fight between you two.” 

Red and Liz fighting always makes you feel like you’re in the middle. Liz would sometimes rant to you about Reddington, which never fails to make you feel like a bad friend.  On the other hand, Red keeps his thoughts about Elizabeth to himself in times like these. 

---

“Do you understand it yet?” Reddington asks. 

You frown. You both have been walking around the docks for an hour, trying to find something on this week's blacklist. Technically, you’re looking for clues, Reddington is watching you, trying to see the exact moment you put the pieces together. 

You admire how he pushes you to do your best, to get better at both your job and thinking like him, but now it’s on your nerves. Having elected to ignore him, you exaggerate checking the number on the shipping container. 

“My god, you agents are so meticulous. You don’t need every number from every crate.” Red observes. 

“I’m not taking every number, just what I think is important.” 

“That seems to be the majority, dear.” 

You shoot him a look over your shoulder due to the use of the pet name in the field. 

He puts his hands up in surrender, but he is smiling. 

You’re saved from a reply by your phone, Aram calling with no doubt some important information. 

---

 That night, Reddington visits you. He says he can't spend the entire night but has a few free hours. You don't know what he has to do before or after your time together, but it's not your problem. 

“Do you watch this every week?” Reddington asks, glancing at your television.

“Yeah. We talk about it at work,” you respond, placing your water on the table, and settling onto your couch next to him. 

“Who’s everyone?” 

“It started as me ‘nd Aram but then Samar started watching with him. I think Liz is in season one. Dembe too maybe?”

You tip your head against his shoulder, feet propped up on your coffee table as the show started playing the introduction. He had one of your pens (technically a pen you took from work) in his hand while he mulls over one of his crossword puzzles? Sudoku? Sudoku with words? Red showed you once how it works and once was enough. 

---

“That's no way to run a drug business!” 

You turned your head to the side to look at him, now sitting on the edge of your seat watching the show. 

“I thought you weren't watching.” 

“I wasn’t, but this is ridiculous!” he huffs. “He's not even marking up the price at all? And his storage? I mean it is ridiculous! No wonder the police were called.” 

“He's just a minor character” 

“For running a business like that he should be!” 

“Just watch the show.” 

---

You were happy to go into the post office today, if only for a chance to talk to Aram about the show.  

“Did you see the new episode?” Aram’s words hit you before you even left the elevator. 

“Of course! I didn't see the big arrest coming. And that fight?!” 

Aram walks with you to the central part of the floor, the rest of the team waiting, both you and Aram dying to talk about yesterday's episode. You catch Reddington in the office out of the corner of your eye and can’t resist winding him up. 

“I can’t believe the arrest! Forgot the rest of the prom, I thought he was going to keep dealing drugs for the whole show,” you exclaim, slightly too loud to make sure Red can hear. 

‘My god, he was the worst drug dealer I've ever seen. Ressler would do better!” Reddington jokes. Aram's head snaps to him. 

“Mr. Reddington, I didn’t know you watched the show!” 

“How far along are you?” you chime in. 

“My beloved watches it. I caught a few minutes.” Red smoothly deflects.

You freeze, never hearing him call you that before, but you like it. 

“Do you want to join our text chain?” Aram eagerly asks. 

Cooper saves Reddington from telling the task force that he doesn’t know how to use a cell phone. 

The assistant director launches into some of the information that the team rounded up yesterday. Numbers you took note of pop up and you make a mental note to tell Red “I told you so”, no doubt knowing that he wants to tell you the same, for taking too many numbers. 

Once everyone is back up to speed and assignments are dolled out, Cooper catches you at your desk. “I need to speak to you in my office.” 

You nod and follow him while you feel anxiety roll in your stomach. It could be good news but you can’t think of anything good. More bad news flashes through your mind as you climb the stairs. You could be suspended, fired, or anything else due to Reddington. And there was that one time you made a questionable decision in the field which could be coming back to bite you. 

“Close the door, please,” Cooper asks quietly. 

You nod, the door firmly shut as you sit, forcing body language to act neutral and calm. 

“I wanted to talk to you about fieldwork.” Cooper starts. You force yourself to make eye contact and not start fiddling with anything on his desk. 

“You’ve been going into the field with Reddington more. Any reason?” 

“Can I be honest?” you ask, trying to come up with something to say. 

“Please.” Cooper leans forward in his chair, awaiting your response. 

“It makes me uncomfortable when Agent Keen and Reddington fight. I felt that if I go with him yesterday, then they could cool off.” 

“Uncomfortable how?” 

You sigh. 

“Like, he killed Sam, and then she faked her death to get away from him, and no one knows how or if they’re related…” You train off, not enjoying thinking of reasons Red and Liz fight, but more than happy to if you can keep your job. 

Cooper nods, understanding. There's an unspoken feeling in the post office when they fight. 

“And do you mind? Going into the field with Reddington.” 

“Not as much as the fighting.” 

Cooper nods again, posture more relaxed before he continues. “I noticed you’ve been working less.” 

Your face reacts before you could try to stay neutral. Of course, Cooper would notice. You’ve lost track of the number of times he turned off the lights at the post office before he leaves late at night and you had to scramble in the dark to turn them back on again. 

“I’m sorry, I can start staying later again.” You say, trying to fumble your way through apologizing. 

Assistant Director Cooper holds up his palms for you to slow down. 

“Your hours are fine. Is everything okay with you?” 

The question shouldn’t take you by surprise. Things are more fun with Reddington as part of your life, but there's more stress. The stress of hiding the relationship mostly, especially from Liz.

“I, uh, started seeing a guy recently? So I have a reason to spend time outside the post office?” you want to speak in sentences but you’re nervous in case this is a leadup to something else.

He nods like he understands. 

“I’m happy for you. Now we just need to get Ressler a girl.” 

You both share a smile, while you silently thank your lucky stars. 

“Is there anything else, sir?” you ask, arms ready to push you up and out of your chair. 

“No, that's all. Thank you.” 

You nod and get up. “Do you want me to leave the door open?” 

“You can close it. Thanks.” 

You pull the door shut behind you and glance down at the post office. Does Red also get hit with this stuff? You wonder. You’ll have to tell him later, once the case concludes. 

---

Tag list: @soraya-daydreams, @horrorqueen22, @wild-rose-35, @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek, @zombieskullxz, @rhepworth, @fanficismydrug, @btsjiminsthings, @emilynissangtr, @navs-bhat, @thatonerandomsimpinthecorner

#We r at the bottom on the red gifs #however I do like a white dress shirt with a dark vest #raymond reddington fan fic #raymond reddington x you #raymond reddington x reader #the blacklist x reader #the blacklist fanfic #the blacklist fanfiction

[asthma-michael-myers]

I’m certainly not done talking about Du’Met (7/???)

There are heavy influences of other serial killers I see in Du’Met. (Not H.H.Holmes, because that guy never did what they say he did in the game. He didn’t even have a „Murder Castle. Did he kill people in his hotel? Yes, probably. But not to the extent that the game [and some other media] wants to make us believe.)

So, what real murderer could have been an inspiration for Du’Met/Hector Munday (for the sake of understandability I treat them as one single person)?

First and foremost I would say, Ed Kemper. Kemper had an abusive (alcohol – addicted) mother who blamed him for her problems, and let him live in the boiler room in the cellar because his appearance was „unbearable“ for her and his sisters additionally they felt unsave and sexually molested by Kemper.

It is assumed (a fandom theory) that Hector Munday was also insulted for his looks by his mother.

While Kempers violent fantasies intensified, he also developed an affinity for justice and police work. Kemper is known for his cooperativity with the police and helping to lay the foundation for criminal profiling (with the FBI-Agenten Ressler und Douglas). His knowledge about psychology was attained during his stay in the Atascadero State Hospital after he killed his grandparents, where he was allowed to help and listen to sessions with other criminals. Also he developed own psychological tests with the corresponding items. Later Kemper used his knowledge to manipulate his victims.

Munday was an FBI profiler. About why he chose that career path can only be speculated. Although he took another way than Kemper, Munday specialized in psychology; and seeing his success, he understood that subject well. So well he used it later to analyze his victims and use the information against them.

During the first murders, Kemper described that he wanted the girls to trust him, that it was not bearable for him that one girls knew that he had just killed her friend. At moments he was not even able to look at her face. All in all Kemper was, well, bashful. When he accidentally touched the breast of his (assumed) third victim, he apologized. Like he was not going to kill and rape her. Kemper reflected on that, that if he had met her earlier in his life, this all might have not happened. It is questionable how true that is since Kemper was convinced that no one could ever love him (,again. Once he was in a relationship but that was spoiled by his mother). So, he wanted complete control over the situation and his partner (also seen by other serial killers like Jeffrey Dahmer, John Wayne Gacy, Dean Corll, etc.).

This is more going into the fandom theories, that while Du’Met is dominant and determined while killing people, he is sexually quite inexperienced. But in almost every situation, he wants control over his partner (mostly based on other people's headcanons, personally I see it differently). However, he canoncally wants to control every situation during his hunting.

The last similarity I want to point out is, the murders Kemper did regarding his own family. As mentioned before, Kemper killed his grandparents. His grandmother had to die because she reminded him so much of his mother and he couldn’t handle all her nagging anymore (about shooting birds and such). The same day Kemper killed his grandfather, this time however it was out of mercy so his demented grandfather didn’t have to see his dead wife. Last but not least, Kemper finally killed his mother. 

Munday also killed his mother, in contrast to Kemper, not out of hate, but out of mercy (like Kemper did with his grandfather), so she wouldn’t have to suffer from the effects of cancer.

That’s it with Ed Kemper, On to the next. Ed Gein. This one is less about his murders, and more about his other crimes and relationship to his mother. Geins father was an alcohol addict who would beat up his wife and Geins mother only mocked her husband for that. It was her, who made the decisions in the family. Furthermore his mother saw sexuality as a sin and impure. 

There is not much told about Hectors father. Only that he left Lucinda when Hector was not born yet or very young. So it could be that Clarence also was an alcoholic, or Lucinda scared him off. Also it is just speculation what Lucinda thought about sexuality, but going along with headcanons, Du’Met seems timid regarding his own sexual needs.

Despite her behaviour of his mother towards Gein, he loved her idolatrously. Which may stem from his mothers indoctrination that every woman was a whore and not to be looked at or even noticed, so Geins desire and love were directed at his mother. The relationship only strengthened when Geins mother suffered a stroke after the death of Geins brother and she became dependent on his help. 

Mundays mother was also abusive. However, instead of leaving her, he visited her regularly and supervised her transfer to the senior home. Even there he came to visit her, more or less, regularly. Before that, she might have been dependent on Hectors help. After Lucinda was diagnosed with cancer, Munday did kill her (as mentioned above out of mercy, it was an act out of love). Furthermore, Munday mourned her death, so it even affected his work as a profiler.

As I said, this is less about Geins murders and more about his other crimes. Gein exhumed bodies (he confessed to 40) and built furniture and made clothes out of them. 

Du’Met exhumed the bodies of his mother and Sherman to build animatronics out of them. That reminds me more of Anatoly Yuryevich Moskvin and his corpse dolls.

#I wished they would have made Mundays first murders smarter #this really bothers me #Granthem Du'Met #Hector Munday #tdim #real serial killers #the dark pictures the devil in me #the devil in me #the dark pictures anthology #dark pictures anthology #there are probably other connections to other killers #but I think these are the more obvious ones

[falle-ness]

Thought I'll post it here just as a reminder I still can put words into sentences. And hear these two, and see their bruised souls. Dialogue-only.

S6 AU where almost everything is the same, except the fact that Ressler slept with Liz because he hoped that if he gets her off guard enough, she'd share with him her next move, so maybe he'd set an ambush and stop her without incriminating himself (yeah, my Ress has brains left and is very practical).

He hoped that some bits she shares he could use to find answers on his own, and some bits to tell Red as well—Red and he have an arrangement about it too because Don went to Red the moment Liz told him. He went to Red not because he wanted to save Red—for him, it's about saving the TF and good they do.

Don thought he could handle the pressure of gambling people's feelings for the sake of finding out the truth about Red, but oops—he learns the hard way what it costs.

///

“This is private property, Reddington. The law says I can shoot you.”

“Elizabeth needs our help.”

“Can't help you. Keen's your problem now. Good luck.”

“Donald, you are not appreciating the gravity of the situation. When an opportunity turns up, Elizabeth will not hesitate to trade anything at her disposal, even your kindness you had once offered her.”

“Talking from experience, huh?”

“You didn't tell her, did you?”

“Tell her what?”

“Abour our arrangement.”

“Why should I?”

“Why shouldn't you?”

“This is ridiculous. Get the fuck out. Now.”

“Did she tell you anything before she left?"

“Do I look like I'm aiding a wanted terrorist?”

“You look like a man trying to do the right thing.”

“What do you want, Reddington?”

“Same thing you do. May I?”

[T.b.c.]

#the blacklist #donald ressler #raymond reddington #the blacklist fanfiction #fanfic #wip

[letthewhumpbegin]

BTHB voting #11

My goal for this year is to complete my new Bad Things Happen Bingo Card😇. I've never before produced that much fanfics in one year, so we'll see how it goes 😁

You, my dear readers, followers and accidental-passers-by, get to vote who / what fandoms the prompts will get filled for! Over the next weeks I will post a poll per prompt, and you can get voting 😉

The 11th prompt is: DISLOCATED JOINT

For a 'look-and-feel' of my writing, check out my writing masterlist

#ltwbpolls #donald ressler #the blacklist #mitch rapp #american assassin #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #top gun maverick #bruce wayne #the batman 2022 #evan buckley #911 fox #whump #whump writing #whump fanfic #whump fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #blackbeard #our flag means death

[raymond-reddington-ruminations]

Thoughts about 10.20, no spoilers.

I'm finding it really hard to talk about this one. If I sat down and imagined exactly what was going to happen, I probably would have imagined something like this. And I have a few ideas about how it might go in the next two episodes. I'll say it again, predictability is fine if the story is well told, and it is well told.

Well except for one part. Weecha might be right in her assessment of her own character, but I believe she's very much wrong about Reddington's. We know him better than she does. We've seen him live that life. And there's no magic between them. Just convenience, even lifestyle kind of convenience. Red needs to try a little harder, have a bit more ambition in his personal life than just what is convenient and easy to hand.

I love seeing Edward, finally. That was fun, especially knowing that he's been the director of so many episodes of the Blacklist.

The conversation with Brimley was hilarious, as all conversations with Brimley are. I was kind of surprised by the stuff that Red said, and exactly what Tadashi's role was in this episode. I was kind of expecting both of those interactions to go more like what that conversation with Hedy ended up being. So that surprised me.

I really feel for Harold and the team. They really have been in an impossible situation. The government made this deal, and then turned a blind eye to how it was actually achieved while reaping the rewards. Harold and team had to face up to how things were actually accomplished, and decide whether it was worth it or not. So now they're left holding the bag. And again they're in an absolutely impossible position.

I can't see how Dembe's life continues as it has been. No matter what they promise, he's going to be the first one to get hit with the blame game. Fortunately, I think he'll see it coming and act accordingly. I may get my wish for Dembe's ending after all. And LOL at Dembe's suggestion for the next Blacklist case. Another head Cannon of mine come true.

Resslers' story finally hit a major point that I did think was coming as well. I'll be curious to see how this drives him. He's kind of the wild card in all this. I don't know which way he'll lean. Well, I think I know where he'll end up, but he may take a while getting to that point because of tonight's event.

But what the hell does Harold do? I mean his job, obviously, he doesn't really have a choice, but what about Agnes? There are ties there that cannot be broken.

Siya at least has an easy out. I think she can just go home. She isn't officially one of them, and her bosses can just call her back.

I wonder if Herbie is in over his head and can't swim. I hope not. I hope he comes up with something clever to get out of this.

So here we are. 2 hours left. I don't know exactly how they're going to go, but I have my hopes and my dreams. I'm still very unhappy that we're here. I think the show had a lot of life left in it, and they could have proven that if they had just been a little bit more focused on intense character stories that they're very capable of telling. I think they've kept it too emotionally controlled.

By rights the last episode should be pulling together the mystery story that we've watched and wondered about for 8 years, but I don't think that's going to happen. So many unanswered questions. I really hope that the creators find a way to address that. It's kind of old school to write a book or comic book about a prematurely canceled TV series to finish it off, but that would be something I'd very much welcome at this point.

Well, once more on to the breach.

#the blacklist #raymond reddington #10.20

[eydetik]

the one where christopher hargrave dies...at least we think 

tw for death, sadness, losing a partner, all of that kind of stuff. 

emily, can you hear me? emily, you don’t have to do this right now. you can take a second, we can do this tomorrow. 

the day had finally come. within 48 hours, her entire life had turned completely upside down. from missed text messages, unanswered phone calls, GPS’ that were turned off and unexplainable secrets that no one could seem to answer - he was gone. agent ressler rushed her to the hospital, but all she got to see was a blue line go flat. they talked about it, sometimes. what they would do if chris was in trouble, who she was supposed to call and who she wouldn’t. they talked about secret code words that they could use on phone calls, different ways of encrypting his story so that only she could understand. she was prepared for that, but she wasn’t prepared for this. she wasn’t prepared to lose him. not today, not ever. 

walking through the doors of the morgue, emily could almost hear him prepping her for what was about to happen: listen to me, strawbs. you’re going to be fine. you can do this, you’re the strongest woman i know. it’ll be over in seconds, okay? just give them their answer and they’ll let you and moa go home...and please. please go home. 

one hand was being held between the fingers of her best friend, the other fidgeting between each finger. the man in the room began to explain what was about to happen, but she wasn’t listening. there was a body underneath that blanket and for all she understood, it was chris. it was christopher. it was her husband. it couldn’t be, right? he was supposed to be untouchable. even at 18, chris had promised her that he was untouchable.

he owned a piece of her. hell, he was a piece of her. a piece of her soul, a piece of her world, a piece of every little thing that she looked at on a daily basis. he was the feeling of their new sheets that he had surprised her with a month before, the small daisy’s she had planted outside of their home as a surprise for next spring. he was in a small scar that she had on the inside of her palm and the feeling of the pads of his fingers running against it. he was everywhere, so if he was under that blanket...where would she go? who would she be, if not with christopher to be there with her? 

emily couldn’t remember giving him the go ahead. hell, she couldn’t really remember even walking into the room. but within a moment, the blanket was removed and the dead body was revealed. the numbness, it had started with her hands. it moved to her arms, down to her stomach. from her stomach, it went to her legs. her body fell to the floor, yet her free hand didn’t stop her fall. there was a nod from her best friend and the body was covered again. her husband’s body was covered. her husband’s cold, dead and blue body was being covered by a blanket. why would he - why would he go rogue? what was so important for him to finish, that she couldn’t help with? she could’ve kept him safe. if chris let her help, maybe he could’ve still been alive. 

“do you think he knows?” hand laid onto her lower stomach, “i hope he knows. we’ll be okay.” her hand gave her stomach a tiny rub, “we’ll be okay.” she had to be because as of right now, what other choice did she have? 

#muse ft. conzierge & kheen ! #gtg bye!