Rabbit of Lizzington Hell, to her sister-in-ink the honourable Pumpkin, citizen of Alternate Universe – Canon Divergence, perpetuator of Elizabeth Keen Whump, and keeper of her affections:
3) Oh gosh, please don't jinx me. Please.
4) Good luck!! My one course ended last week but I still wake up, see it's noon or something, and panic for a second because oh no I actually got eight hours of sleep I gotta get to work. But anyway, you can do this! I think I speak for all of us when I say I believe in you and I'm proud of you however it may work out. <3
5/6) That makes total sense! I 100% get that, and there're absolutely no worries. Fic reading is for the enjoyment of the individual after all, so do what ya gotta do to ensure that enjoyment (including waiting until a better time to dive in). And IDK about anyone else, but just knowing you want to read my fic(s) makes me fgsfsdfjsdh.
7) I enjoy 'em too! But maybe I just love reading all of your responses to asks (and anything you post/write really but pffshfhsh), who's to say? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
+
So I'm writing this new one-shot (though at this point, it's so long my conscience is demanding whether it's ethical to keep it all as one chapter), and it's sort of wrapped around an actual Blacklister case. Hence, the working title is in the format of your typical TBL episode title. But the name of the made-up Blacklister in question sounds kind of inane (and is unchangeable for plot reasons,,, man I love trapping myself in a corner) so now I'm. Torn between that or what I normally do for titles, i.e., a generic phrase from the story that encompasses its tone/theme in some way. Which I don't have a problem with per se--I usually have fun coming up with titles--but like. I was kind of proud of having a TBL-formatted title...
ANyway, I'm just telling you all this because I related to that post you made about not usually having trouble titling fics but encountering some for your current WiP LOL. Although, now that I think about it... If you happen to have a preference, feel free to throw it out. I know you don't have all the info since you don't actually know the two Potential Titles, but your opinion will nevertheless be received with gratitude and considered with care. :P
+
I am definitely seeing that "virtual pen pals" thing you mentioned before. Totally did not spend half an hour looking at primary sources of letters written in the ancient world to see how they're formatted all for The Meme or anything. Because pfffttt that would be such a fatuous use of my time. :))
...
—signed the 1st of AU-gust in the 9th year of The Blavkoist
1) I'm so sorry this is eons late (or at least, it feels that way to me 😅) !! I'm like a broken record saying this, but I've been really busy because the summer semester is coming to an end, and so I couldn't afford the time needed to sit down and reply to this message of yours (not that I'm complaining about the length! As I said before, I love the long messages, and I feel like they're now a trademark of yours 😂)
2) Thank you for the kind words! I really appreciate them!! 💛
3) ooooooh new one-shot?! And it's so long that it might not even be a one-shot?! Count me in!
4) I have zero preference when it comes to titles of someone's work!! I say, go with your gut! Choose whatever feels right to you!! And anyway, it's the story that's important! (which I greatly look forward to)
5) definitely virtual pen pals
6) your sign off made me chuckle aloud, my friend - it was very much appreciated 😂😂😂
2 notes
·
View notes
“before i wanted nothing to do with you; now i can’t imagine my life without you” for Lizzington?
| So I saw THIS ⬇️…
https://tale-xistime.tumblr.com/post/656479243714330624/thecollectibles-shoe-studies-by-julia
…post and something about it just SCREAMED Red to me. I really wanted to do a fic with Red having these sock clips, and just with Reds fashion in general. When suddenly a little inkling in my mind was like, hey there’s a prompt buried somewhere that could go along with the direction you want to take this, so I looked, and here this was! So I hope everyone enjoys the concept of sock garters on Red as much as I do, and here is this! Also Spaders, thank you for the prompts you’ve sent and how patient you’ve been, and I hope you enjoy this my friend. |
Dressing impeccably is part of what makes the Concierge of Crime, the Concierge of Crime. Raymond Reddington has a routine he uses in the mornings to get dressed, and well, Liz just feels blessed to see it for the first time.
(She could get used to this.)
Last night got a little out of hand. But only in the best way possible. They were on an undercover op, playing as a couple. Their contact had given them the information they needed and left, leaving them to their own devices. They stayed together, and just simply talked. They ate dinner together, and drank enough wine to take the edge off, but not to be past the point of a clear mind. They sat for hours, long past the op’s completion, talking about various childhood stories, likes and dislikes, and then somehow miraculously, the conversation shifted to the topic of each other.
“Red, what do you think of me?”
She clearly remembered the way he had cocked his head, leaning in closer as if she were sharing a secret.
“In terms of what, Lizzie?”
“Just in terms of, viability as a partner. A romantic partner.”
This took Red aback, making him lean back from the table slightly. He swirled the glass of wine around, just to give his hands something to do as he tried to collect the right words.
“Intelligent. Breathtakingly beautiful, innately clever, kind, resourceful, caring. Any man would be lucky to have you Lizzie.” He finished quietly, looking down to the table, anywhere but at Lizzie.
“Mmm.” His reaction told her just what she was wondering, just what she needed to be confirmed. She felt emboldened by Red's compliments, and a daring, reckless, probably worst but possibly best idea that she had ever had began to form in her mind.
She was feeling brave tonight.
It didn’t take long watching him examine her curiously before she decided she couldn’t wait any longer to tell him.
(She was falling in love with him. She couldn’t say when it had happened, perhaps it had been when he had saved her life, maybe it was as recent as tonight or maybe she had just always loved him, from the second she descended upon his chained figure down in the box. She just had to realize it for herself.)
“I don’t want just any man though.” She said quietly, eyes cast downward. Shocking him out of his quite obvious inspection of her face. His eyebrows stuck together, their breath mingling over the table they were both leaning over. She looked back up to him, wondered what he was thinking from behind his confused expression.
She continued, talking quickly to get it all out in a rush, before she lost her nerve and changed her mind.
“I want one man. The only problem is I think he’s too scared, too scared to let go of his fears and self doubts to believe that I could want him too. Something real, unlike what I had with Tom.”
She steeled her nerves, figuring it was too late to turn back now as she traced her hand up from his knee, to rest on his inner thigh. Needing some way to cement in his mind who the subject matter could be. It worked.
His face had changed with every word she said, with every inch the pads of her fingertips climbed. He was bewildered, shaken, and almost hopeful.
His shock only grew as Liz took her other hand to gently guide his face, leaning him further over the table for his lips to align with hers. He was losing control, and while one part of him was reveling in letting Lizzie take control, reveling in what she was implying that she could want to be with him, that she could want him, the other half of him screamed to stop! Because he could only ever bring her pain, misery, and danger, when she deserved everything else pure and good in the world instead of his useless husk of a self-
“Lizzie,” he had gasped, just a breath away, wanting to do anything but talk. “It's too dangerous, you and me. If something happened to you I don’t know what I would do, especially if you were hurt by someone I unintentionally brought into your life, I would only ever put you in danger and I can’t-” His pleading was interrupted by her gentle but fervent yank on his jaw, her calm and determined eyes meeting his.
“Raymond,” she spoke his name, his God given name for the first time she could remember. Reaching her hand up higher on his thigh, she ran her fingers over his scalp. His eyes drifted closed at the sensation, eliciting a deep thrum from him.
“That’s a risk I’m willing to take, because before I wanted nothing to do with you, but now I can’t imagine my life without you. I’m falling for you, and I need you. I want you. Let me in. We’ll protect each other and survive, thrive, just like we always do. Take me home. Let me show you how much I need you. How much I love you.”
She leaned in, meeting him halfway over their table and kissed him.
It was a chaste thing, their mouths only slightly sliding and slipping together.
They broke apart, eyes closed and forehead to forehead, unreasonably breathless and completely undone.
Her arms snaked around his shoulders, running her palms over his shorn hair to rest on his neck. His hands moved to rest on her knees, and before long he threw down a 20 and swept her out of the restaurant to his safe house.
They couldn’t keep their hands off of each other on the drive, and barely made it past the door before his slacks were unbuttoned on the floor and her dress was unzipped and slung haphazardly on a doorknob.
It was the best sex she’d ever had.
Tom couldn’t hold a candle to Red. He knew just what she wanted, his talents extending far far beyond what even she had imagined. They just worked together. Perfectly.
“We’re gonna make a great team.”
She had never had a man be able to get her to see stars. Let alone twice back to back.
The various dreams and fantasies she had let play out in her mind before, well the real thing was just so much better.
She woke up this morning in his arms, warm and curled into his side, his nose nuzzled into her tousled hair. Her hands gently twitched to life against the curve of his spine, her eyes blinking open to the sun that streamed through the sheer curtains.
She awoke first out of the two of them, allowing her the experience of watching him slowly wake, cuddling as close to her as possible as he rested.
His face was youthful and slack, his mouth slightly open in a small snore.
It was glorious.
Red had eventually slowly awakened, looking more rested than she could ever remember.
She’d hugged him, and peppered his face with kisses, before he snagged her lips and pulled her onto him. His neck craned up to meet hers, hands lightly settled on her waist.
He’d pulled away, gently tucking her cascading hair behind her ear before whispering in his deepest and most graveled morning voice.
“Good morning sweetheart.”
Her heart swelled at the sight of him, at the sound of him.
“Good morning love.”
She settled against his chest, listening as his overwhelmed heart skipped a prompt beat due to her words.
They laid there for a while, Lizzie about to fall back peacefully asleep when suddenly Red shifted from under her.
“Is that really the time?” His line of sight had caught the glowing orange clock in the corner of the room, perched on a dresser.
“Oh shit, you have to meet your contact with last night's info right?”
Liz slid off Red, the covers pooling around her as he leapt to his feet.
“Yes. In under an hour.”
And with that he disappeared into his closet, occasionally throwing a piece of a suit onto the dresser.
Her mind wandered back to him, to his perfection, his skill. Which ultimately proved to be a disservice to herself, with every thought of last night and it’s activities, she was left craving more.
Red came back into the room, buck naked and bared for only her to see. That certainly didn’t help her in her effort to try and behave.
To try and occupy her, she watches him start to get ready, and quickly finds herself becoming fascinated with his dressing regiment. A process she quickly begins memorizing.
He pulls on a pair of black boxers first, (she tries not to let herself be disappointed by this complete loss of her new most favorite view) soon followed by impeccable black slacks.
A taunt leather belt, and white undershirt are next.
She watches in awe as he pulls on the shirt, his arms drifting up through the fabric first, hands stretching towards the rich cream of his smooth ceiling before helping to lift the bunched cloth past his shorn hair.
His head quickly follows with his calloused and capable hands help, the white of the shirts’ threads appearing to pool around his shoulders in one swift motion.
He situates the fabric to wash down his torso, now completely concealing his supple, and scarred skin from her.
He fists his button-up, sliding one arm and then the next through the crisp, snow white polyester. He turns to face her then, knowing that she’s watching with the utmost interest, cocking his head and examining the lust left plain on her face. Matching it with his own.
His eyes skim easily down her mainly bare body, just sitting there, plainly exposed on his sheets.
(His sheets!)
He can’t handle it anymore, knows that if he keeps looking at her softness he’ll crack, so he gulps and turns away. Trying to calm down the blush rising.
His nimble fingers make fast work of the buttons, and before long he swings on his favorite windowpane waistcoat, the silky fabric as jet-black as a moonless sky.
Her trance is broken by his soft murmur, just barely audible as his hand grabs a silver Rolex and fastens it to his other wrist, his waistcoat left unbuttoned.
“Lizzie, can you grab me a tie?” She blinks once or twice before moving, grabbing last night's undershirt off the floor as she does so.
Raymond is dumbfounded as she tugs on his shirt, watching as the oversized cloth drifts down past the only thing she previously had on. The sapphire, lacy blue panties now completely shielded.
His mouth is wide open, for more than a second, struck speechless by the complete lack of hesitation Elizabeth had in completely wrecking him.
She returns still wearing his shirt, a storm cloud grey tie clutched in her hands. Dark crosshatching running along its surface. Slinging it across his shoulders and tucking it under his collar, she begins tying it without a word, their breath mingling together.
The tension between them is smooth, rich, and welcomed. But at the same time it remains jagged, pulling, and cutting. Something has shifted, and now they need each other. It’s something primal, the pair of heating cores in the room, if just due to the proximity and domesticity of waking up to one another. The urge created by perfect balance and harmony the night before. It’s effects are intoxicating, addictive, and demanding.
She finishes the knot easily, adjusting the tie and looking up into his pupil-blown eye.
(They can’t take much more of this.)
Her fingers move to his waistcoat, fastening and smoothing it down his chest.
His cologne still lingers on his clothing, strong enough for her to catch a whiff of it on his neck.
It’s this that throws her over the edge, this that makes her decide to stop playing nice.
Her lips move slowly to cup his neck, feeling his pulse beneath them as she stands on her tippy toes. They move lethargically over his pulse point, a small circular scar under her roaming tongue.
(Liz is now determined to get what she wants. Meetings and work be damned.)
His eyes drift close, neck arching to give her access, begging her to feed his aching, and it’s at this point he knows he really has no chance of winning. He’s putty in her hands. That doesn’t mean he won't give her a run for her money though.
He suddenly moves away. Gulping past the smirk on his face.
Line, hook, and sinker. She knows he’s only playing hard to get, he likes to toy with her that way. She can’t say she minds. She can play too.
Red grabs his pair of cotton crew socks along with a pair of silver and black sock garters and heads for the bed. He sits on the edge of the mattress, keeping his face down and out of her line of sight. Leaving her standing where he left her.
He crosses his right leg, rolling up his pant leg before stretching his sock up and over his foot. He clasps the sock garter then, the elastic contracting to grip his calf. He clips both clasps into his sock, then rolls his pant leg back down. Switching feet to start the process again, prompting Liz to action.
She slides behind him, the fabric of his suit moving with each action he takes.
Red tries his best to seem as though he’s ignoring her, though that couldn’t be farther from the truth.
Liz rests her lips on the top of his shoulder, hands moving around the front to find purchase to spread out on his hips, before she begins moving her mouth along the hem of his waistcoat. Gliding past his collar to the base of his neck, before moving up and along the side of it. She moves up and along his hairline, his hair delightfully prodding and tickling her lips. She gives open-mouthed kisses to the back of his ear, before nipping and tugging at his ear lobe.
Red had been proud of himself for sticking it out this long, keeping painfully quiet throughout all her ministrations, but when she’s breathing in his ear, and nipping at his skin he’s suddenly no longer able to keep the sound of his shaking breath quiet.
She picks up on this, and stops immediately. Smiling mischievously from ear to ear. She slides out from behind him, grabbing his shoes before dropping to her knees in front of him.
She gently palms his foot, sliding his black oxfords on. Well aware of the fact that he can see straight down her baggy new shirt from his vantage point.
She ties both shoes, then pulls him to a stand by his collar, leaving him to stand on shaky knees as she pulls his grey suit-coat on him.
She stands in front of him now, remaining still despite every fiber in her screaming to reach out and claim him once again.
He’s fully clothed, his armor securely fastened to go do what he does best. Take on the world.
She, on the other hand, is almost fully naked, the drenching shirt rippling in the draft currently crossing his bedroom. (Their bedroom.)
She smooths down his waistcoat one last time, hands lingering before she looks up at his eyes again, both blue and green overrun by black and aching need, before they move at the same time. She grabs his tie and yanks him to her, untucking it from his waistcoat and using it to her full advantage.
Meanwhile he grabs her waist and thrusts her closer, hands fluttering against bare skin and lace. Their lips meet and lock, sliding and pleasing their way to that much needed balance. She backs him into the bed, his knees buckling quite willingly as she lays him down.
She breaks away panting.
Kneeling in front of him again to undo all the useless dressing she just completed. Not completely useless, she reminds herself, finding that she is indeed enjoying ripping off his fine suits and clothing once again. She gets to his sock garters, fumbling to unclasp and peel them off with his socks, before he grabs his phone. With a bit-lip and closed eyes he calls Dembe explaining that he will need Dembe to go to their contact to drop off the necessary information in his stead. Dembe obliges without hesitation, not even wanting to know the reason for Red's absence as he hears a barely audible moan escape Red across the phone as Lizzie shucks off Raymonds pants and traces her lips up his inner thigh. Red closes the phone and tosses it, Lizzie giving a giggle.
“And to think of all that time we could have spent enjoying ourselves instead of you trying to leave. A fruitless venture I might add.”
Red gives a chuckle himself. Suddenly stopping Liz mid kiss and flipping her.
Her back landing gently on the mattress where he previously was.
“Sorry darling. Allow me to make it up to you.”
34 notes
·
View notes