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wittyandobsessed · 9 days ago

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𝐀 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧’𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐮𝐞

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 | Raymond Reddington x FBI!Reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | Violence, hurt, wounds, killing, death.

𝘈 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘨𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘍𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘙𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘶𝘦.

You walked side by side with Liz, the buzz of the headquarters growing louder as you approached. She had that teasing smirk on her face, the one that always meant trouble.

“I still can’t believe you turned him down,” Liz said, nudging your shoulder. “What’s wrong with a harmless date? The guy’s cute, and from what I heard, actually nice.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly. “Nice is great and all, but I’m not looking for something... routine. I don’t want to spend my evenings talking about the weather and what’s on TV. I want something... different. Exciting, you know? Adventure.”

Liz chuckled, shaking her head. “Adventure, huh? Good luck finding that in this place.”

You were about to counter her when you stepped into the main area, the sound of your boots echoing faintly against the polished floor. And there he was. Raymond Reddington, sitting casually at the edge of one of the desks, dressed in his usual tailored suit, radiating that effortlessly commanding presence.

As if he’d been listening the whole time, Red tilted his head slightly, a sly smile curving his lips. “Ah, adventure,” he drawled, his voice smooth and rich, like aged bourbon. “A bold choice, my dear. But be careful—adventure often comes with a touch of danger. Though, if you’re lucky, it might also come with the perfect companion.”

His eyes twinkled as he spoke, the words landing somewhere between playful and flirtatious. It was enough to send a shiver down your spine. For a moment, you stood frozen, caught off guard by his impeccable timing and that undeniable charm. Liz raised an eyebrow at you, clearly enjoying your reaction, but you didn’t dare look at her.

Instead, you swallowed the lump in your throat, managing a half-smile. “Well, I suppose I’ll just have to choose my adventure... and my companion carefully.”

Red’s smile widened, a satisfied gleam in his eye. “Wise words, Agent. Very wise words.” Then, with a small nod, he turned his attention back to Dembe, leaving you standing there, your cheeks a little warmer and your heart beating just a bit faster.

Liz leaned in, her voice low and amused. “You were saying something about adventure?”

You groaned, pushing past her as she stifled a laugh. Whatever comeback you had died in your throat, and you weren’t sure whether to curse or thank Red for that.

You adjusted your bulletproof vest, the straps tight against your chest, and checked your sidearm one last time. The weight of the operation pressed down on your shoulders, but that wasn’t the only thing gnawing at your thoughts. Red. Raymond Reddington. The man who had inexplicably worked his way into your life—and under your skin.

The task force was gearing up to arrest a dangerous trafficker who had eluded justice for years. He was connected to a network Red had tipped you off about a week ago, casually dropping the information over a glass of wine like it was nothing. Typical Red—calm, enigmatic, and maddeningly smug. That’s how it always was with him. He operated in a world where danger was as commonplace as breathing, and somehow, you’d grown accustomed to it. To him.

You couldn’t help but reflect on the strange path that had brought you to this moment. A year ago, you never would have believed you’d be working with a man like Reddington. When you first met him, he’d been more myth than man, a name whispered in criminal circles and scribbled on FBI most-wanted lists. But then he’d walked into your life, larger than life and exuding a dangerous charm. You were skeptical of him from the start, as any good FBI agent would be. He was a criminal—a mastermind, really—and you didn’t trust him one bit.

But Red had a way about him. He was infuriatingly clever, always ten steps ahead of everyone else in the room, including you. He could manipulate and charm his way out of any situation, and he often did. At first, his confidence grated on you. His smirks, his cryptic remarks, the way he always seemed to know more about you than he should—it all made your blood boil. But there was something else beneath that polished exterior, something that made you pause.

You’d started seeing it during those late nights in the war room, going over leads and piecing together puzzles only he seemed to fully understand. He wasn’t just a criminal; he was a man of principle, of rules, no matter how skewed they seemed to you. Red had a code—something most criminals lacked—and it intrigued you more than you cared to admit.

There was also a warmth to him, buried under the layers of his dangerous persona. It was in the way he treated people like Dembe, with genuine loyalty and respect. It was in the soft way he spoke to you when he thought no one else was listening, the gentle reminders to take care of yourself after long hours on the job. He called you “dear,” always with a faint smile, and you couldn’t help but feel your defenses crumble just a little more each time.

You remembered the first time you really saw him—not as a criminal, not as an informant, but as a man. It was after a particularly grueling operation. You’d been furious with him, accusing him of withholding vital information that had nearly cost lives. But instead of snapping back, Red had looked at you with something like regret in his eyes. He’d explained, carefully and sincerely, why he’d made the choices he had. You hadn’t agreed with him, but you’d understood. And understanding him was dangerous because it made you care.

And now, here you were, preparing to step into another volatile situation, and Red was still in your head. You hated it sometimes—how he could occupy your thoughts even when you were trying to focus on something else. He wasn’t just a criminal; he was a conundrum, a puzzle you couldn’t quite solve. And somewhere along the way, you’d stopped trying to resist him.

You snapped back to the present as Liz called your name. She was already by the armored van, waiting for you to join the team. With a final glance at your reflection in the side mirror, you steeled yourself. Red would undoubtedly have some infuriating commentary about this operation later, probably over a glass of wine and some obscure story about a run-in with a similar trafficker. And, as always, you’d be torn between wanting to throttle him and being utterly charmed by him.

Because that was the problem with Raymond Reddington. He wasn’t just a criminal. He wasn’t just infuriating. He was... something else. Something you couldn’t quite define but couldn’t seem to let go of, no matter how much you told yourself you should.

As the van rolled out, you clenched your fists, pushing the thoughts aside. You’d deal with Red—and your feelings for him—later. Right now, you had a job to do.

The operation had gone terribly wrong. When Liz returned to headquarters, her face was pale, her movements hurried. Red was already there, waiting for her in the briefing room. He leaned against the edge of the table, his usually relaxed posture noticeably tense. The moment she stepped in, his eyes sharpened, scanning her for injuries.

“What happened? Are you alright?” he asked, his tone laced with that fatherly concern he always had for her. His voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent of urgency, a need for answers.

Liz hesitated, running a hand through her hair, her breathing still uneven. “I’m fine,” she said quickly, almost dismissively, though her tone betrayed how rattled she was. “But… they knew we were coming. They were ready for us. It was a trap.”

Red’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, taking in the scratches on her arms, the faint bruise forming near her temple. But then his expression shifted. He scanned the room again, as if realizing for the first time that someone was missing. His usual air of charm and wit evaporated, replaced by something cold and focused.

“Where’s Y/N?” he asked, his voice low, serious. It wasn’t a question; it was a demand for clarity.

Liz froze, the words catching in her throat. She knew how he could be, how his emotions, particularly when it came to people he cared about, could drive him to extremes. But she also knew she couldn’t lie to him. He would see through it instantly.

“They took her,” she admitted quietly, the words heavy, almost sinking into the air between them.

For a moment, Red didn’t move. His face remained composed, but Liz could see the storm brewing behind his eyes, a mix of fury and fear. His hands, resting on the table, clenched into fists. When he finally spoke, his voice was terrifyingly calm.

“Who?”

“They didn’t give names,” Liz said, swallowing hard. “They must have been tipped off. We barely made it out alive.”

Red straightened, adjusting his cuffs with methodical precision, though Liz knew it was just a mask for what he was truly feeling. His voice, when it came, was steady but laced with a quiet menace.

“I’ll find her,” he said, almost to himself. Then his gaze snapped back to Liz, sharp and unyielding. “Tell me everything. Now.”

Liz hesitated for just a second before launching into the details of the botched operation. But even as she spoke, she could see that Red was already forming a plan, the wheels in his mind turning faster than she could keep up with. This wasn’t just about the operation anymore. This was personal.

You woke up to a sharp, throbbing pain coursing through your body. Your head lolled forward, heavy and disoriented. When you tried to move, you realized your wrists and ankles were tied tightly to a chair. Panic clawed at your chest as you lifted your head, trying to piece together what had happened.

And then you saw him—the man standing a few feet away, watching you with a cold, calculating gaze. The memories came rushing back in painful fragments. The operation. The trafficker’s hideout. It had all been a trap.

You remembered the chaos—the gunfire erupting as soon as you breached the doors, forcing your team to scatter and take cover. Somewhere in the fray, you’d gotten separated from the others. Before you could regroup, someone had grabbed you from behind. A sharp blow to the back of your head, and then—nothing.

And now here you were, in this cold, dimly lit warehouse, hands tied, completely at the mercy of your captors. The man in front of you had wasted no time. He’d started hitting you, hard and relentless, demanding answers. He wanted to know how the police had gotten wind of their trafficking operation, who had tipped them off.

But you said nothing. You couldn’t. Because telling him the truth would mean betraying Raymond Reddington, the very man who had provided the intel. And you’d rather die than compromise him.

Another blow landed across your cheek, snapping your head to the side. Pain radiated through your face, but you clenched your teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Blood trickled from the corner of your mouth as the man leaned closer, his patience clearly running thin.

“You’re stubborn,” he sneered, pulling a gun from his holster. The sound of the metal clicking into place sent a chill down your spine. He pointed the weapon at your chest, his finger hovering over the trigger.

Your breath hitched, and you closed your eyes, bracing yourself. This was it. You were going to die here, alone in this godforsaken warehouse. Your thoughts drifted to Red, unbidden and bittersweet. The way he smiled, his effortless charm, his sharp wit. You’d always known you cared for him more than you should, but you’d never been brave enough to admit it—not to him, not even to yourself.

And now it was too late. You’d never get the chance to tell him.

The man’s grip tightened on the gun, and you heard him take a steadying breath. But before the shot came, another sound cut through the tense silence: a voice, calm and commanding, echoing through the cavernous space.

“Now, now,” the voice drawled smoothly. “I’d hate to interrupt, but I simply can’t allow this to continue.”

Your eyes snapped open, your heart leaping in your chest. That voice.

Red.

He stood in the shadow of the doorway, his silhouette illuminated by the dim light behind him. His hands were casually in his pockets, his head tilted just slightly, but his presence filled the room with an unmistakable danger.

The man holding the gun hesitated, looking between you and Red.

“And who the hell are you?” he barked.

Red stepped forward, the calm in his demeanor only amplifying the menace in his tone. “Me? I’m the man who’s going to ensure you regret every decision you made today. Starting with this one.”

Relief and hope surged through you, though you knew the danger wasn’t over. But Red was here. And if there was one thing you’d learned over the past year, it was this: when Raymond Reddington walked into a room, everything changed.

The room fell silent except for the faint, echoing footsteps of Raymond Reddington as he closed the distance between himself and your captor. His hands remained in his pockets, his head tilted just slightly, his expression unreadable—but you knew better. Beneath that calm exterior lay a storm brewing, dangerous and unstoppable.

Your captor, emboldened by the gun in his hand, barked, “Stay back, or she dies!” He jabbed the barrel of the gun against your shoulder, making you wince.

Red didn’t flinch. Instead, he sighed, a soft, disappointed sound that somehow carried more weight than any shout. “You see,” he began, his tone conversational, “this is where you’ve made your first—and last—mistake.” He gestured faintly with his hand, and suddenly, from the shadows, Dembe appeared like a phantom, his own weapon trained steadily on the trafficker.

Your captor stiffened, his hand tightening on the gun. “Drop it!” he snarled at Red, his voice cracking ever so slightly.

Red stopped walking, now only a few feet away. “Do you even know who I am?” he asked quietly, his voice silk and steel.

The trafficker sneered, though you could see the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. “I don’t care who you are.”

“Oh, but you should.” Red’s lips curved into a cold smile, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous light. “You’ve taken something that belongs to me—her.” His gaze flicked to you for the briefest of moments, softening just enough to make your breath catch, before returning to the man holding you captive. “And I do not take kindly to losing what I value.”

Before your captor could respond, Red’s hand moved faster than you thought possible, pulling a gun from his jacket. The crack of the shot was deafening in the confined space, and the man’s weapon clattered to the floor as he staggered back, clutching his bleeding shoulder.

“Dembe,” Red said calmly, already tucking his gun back into his coat.

Dembe moved like a shadow, crossing the room in two strides. In an instant, he disarmed the trafficker completely, twisting his arm with enough force to make the man cry out. Red stepped forward, standing just inches away from the man, who now knelt on the floor, bleeding and trembling.

“You could’ve walked away,” Red said softly, crouching so he was eye level with the trafficker. His voice was almost pitying, but the ice in his gaze told a different story. “But instead, you chose violence. And worse, you chose to involve her.”

The man stammered, begging now, his earlier bravado shattered. “Please… I-I didn’t know—”

“Shhh,” Red whispered, pressing a finger to his own lips. “It’s too late for that.”

And with that, Red straightened and turned to Dembe. “Handle it,” he said simply.

Dembe nodded, and with one swift motion, ended the trafficker’s life. The sound was quick, final, and utterly chilling. You flinched, unable to stop yourself, though a part of you felt a grim satisfaction knowing the man who had tortured you was no longer a threat.

Red was at your side almost immediately, crouching in front of you with an unexpected gentleness. His hands moved quickly, pulling a knife from his pocket and slicing through the ropes that bound your wrists and ankles. As the last restraint fell away, you slumped forward, your body too weak to hold itself up.

But Red caught you, his arms wrapping around you with a firmness that felt safe, steady. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice low and reassuring. “It’s over now.”

You clung to him without thinking, your body shaking from adrenaline and exhaustion. His hand moved to cradle the back of your head, his touch warm and grounding. For a moment, the chaos of the past few hours faded, replaced by the steady rhythm of his breathing and the undeniable comfort of his presence.

“You’re safe,” he said softly, his lips near your ear. “And as long as I’m here, you always will be.”

You wanted to thank him, to say something—anything—but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you closed your eyes, letting the sound of his voice and the warmth of his embrace be enough for now.

The beeping of the hospital monitors was a steady, rhythmic sound, broken only by the occasional shuffle of nurses outside your door. You were propped up in bed, wrapped in bandages, bruises aching but manageable thanks to the medication they’d given you. It wasn’t ideal, but you were alive—and that was more than you could have hoped for hours ago.

When the door opened, you turned your head, expecting Liz or one of the Task Force members. Instead, it was Red. His tailored suit was impeccable as always, but there was a weariness in his expression, a tension in his shoulders. He closed the door quietly behind him, and for a moment, he just stood there, his eyes scanning you, as if confirming for himself that you were really okay.

“You’re looking better,” he said finally, his voice soft but tinged with relief. He moved closer, taking the seat by your bed. “Though I’d say that chair didn’t do you any favors.”

You smiled faintly, your heart fluttering at his presence. “I’ve had better days.”

Red nodded, his lips twitching into a small smile. “And worse, I imagine. Though I do hope this is the last time I have to retrieve you from a situation quite so... dire.”

You chuckled lightly, wincing at the ache in your ribs. “I’ll try to stay out of trouble. But thank you. For saving me.”

His smile deepened, his eyes softening. “My dear, you don’t need to thank me. I couldn’t have done anything else.”

You hesitated, his words from earlier echoing in your mind. Gathering your courage, you glanced at him shyly. “So… I’m yours?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, repeating the words he’d said to your captor.

Red stilled, his smile morphing into something more contemplative. He leaned back slightly, studying you with an intensity that made your cheeks warm. “Ah, yes,” he said after a moment, his tone light but his gaze unwavering. “It would seem I let that particular sentiment slip. But in my defense, it was entirely true.”

Your heart skipped, the room seeming to shrink around you. “What does that mean, exactly?”

Red’s expression softened further, his hand resting lightly on the edge of your bed. “It means, my dear, that you are… irreplaceable. Someone whose well-being I hold in the highest regard. And someone I’d rather not see tied to a chair ever again, if I may be frank.”

He was deflecting, carefully avoiding the words that hung in the air between you. You could see it in the way his gaze flicked to the window, the way his fingers tapped idly on the bedframe. He wasn’t going to admit how he felt—not outright—but it was there, clear as day, in the way he looked at you, the way he lingered.

When he stood to leave, likely sensing the conversation had tread too close to territory he wasn’t ready to explore, you reached out and grabbed his hand. He stopped, his body tense as he turned back to face you.

“Red,” you said, your voice trembling but firm. “I love you.”

For a moment, he said nothing. His hand, warm in yours, remained still, though his eyes darkened with emotion. You could see the hesitation, the conflict playing out on his face. You knew what he was thinking—he wasn’t a good man, not by any stretch, and being with him would undoubtedly bring danger into your life. He didn’t want that for you.

But before he could say anything, you pressed on. “I know what you’re thinking. That you’re not good for me, that this is some sort of mistake. But you’re wrong. I’ve never felt safer than I do when I’m with you. I don’t care about the risks, or what anyone else thinks. I care about you. And I need you to know that.”

His jaw tightened, his eyes searching yours for what felt like an eternity. Slowly, he exhaled, the weight of his emotions settling over him like a shroud. “You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper. “Being with me… it’s not a life anyone deserves.”

You shook your head, your grip on his hand tightening. “I don’t care, Red. I’m not afraid. I trust you. And if you’ll let me, I’ll stand by you, no matter what.”

The vulnerability in your voice seemed to break through his walls. His shoulders sagged slightly, and he let out a soft, weary laugh, shaking his head. “You are impossibly stubborn, you know that?”

You smiled faintly, tugging lightly on his hand. “Maybe. But you love that about me, don’t you?”

He let out a breath, the faintest ghost of a smile playing at his lips. Slowly, he leaned closer, his free hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You are absolutely insufferable,” he murmured, his voice low, his lips just a breath away from yours. “And utterly extraordinary.”

“Then kiss me,” you whispered, your voice trembling but steady. “Please.”

For a moment, he hesitated, the last of his resolve wavering. And then he gave in. His lips met yours, warm and firm, his hand cupping your face with a tenderness that stole your breath. The kiss was slow, deliberate, and filled with all the words he hadn’t been able to say.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek. “You’ll be the death of me,” he said softly, though there was no regret in his tone. Only affection.

“And you’ll keep me alive,” you replied, a small smile tugging at your lips.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Red allowed himself to smile back, the weight of the world momentarily forgotten.

#the blacklist #blacklist #raymond reddington x reader #raymond reddington #oneshot #one shot #x reader #fem reader

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101crows · 1 year ago

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Going To Red for comfort

‘This can’t be happening’

You repeated this to yourself yet again, as if saying it enough times would somehow make it true. The world had taken your birth parents from you and now it was trying to take your found parents too. Another car crash. Not just with one parent this time, no. With both of them.

‘This isn’t happening.’

They were in surgery and the drunk driver that hit them got off with a broken arm and a concussion. You had to see him walking around, talking to the people he loved while your parents laid touch-and-go on hospital beds. You were sure in a few hours you’d be angry as all hell, but after sobbing and screaming and sobbing all over again, all you felt was empty.

Distantly, you heard your phone ringing. It was muffled, like you had lost it under a mountain of pillows, and when you looked at it in your hand you felt a deep certainty that it was not your hand, not your body at all. You stared at for longer than usual, knowing that the word on it was real and familiar, and yet unable to recognize it or who it meant was calling. Only when the call disconnected then started ringing again did you finally register that someone was trying to call you. Reddington was trying to call you.

‘Right. Right, of course, he’ll know what’s happened by now.’

“Hello?”

“(Y/n), darling, I was worried you were ignoring me.” His voice had the same nonchalance it normally did, and yet it was marginally softer than usual. You knew it was on your behalf that he didn’t go immediately into questioning you. Somehow, he knew you would need this sense of normalcy from him, a constant in a world ever-changing.

“I could never ignore you, red.”

You paused for a moment, debating your next question.

“Where are you right now?”

The control you maintained on your voice a moment ago slipped and it became a small, scared thing begging for comfort.

“Already on my way, my dear. I’ll be there in five minutes.”

You felt a wave of relief flood through you. Five minutes. You just had to make it five more minutes. Red was not a miracle worker, but you knew if anyone could help you, it would be him. He would do whatever he could to ensure your parents had the best treatment possible, and you didn’t even have to ask.

“Will you take me somewhere quiet please?”

“You should be with your parents.”

“Please, Red. I can’t be in this damn hospital any longer.”

You heard him sigh, and knew you had won. He wasn’t particularly fond of hospitals, but you downright hated them.

“Two more minutes, darling, then somewhere quiet. Dembe and I will be waiting for you outside.”

You didn’t bother staying on the phone, choosing instead to grab all your things and hurry towards the exit, desperate to leave this stupid white hellhole as quickly as possible. Dembe was waiting for you when you reached the doors, ready to take your bags and put them in the back. You didn’t even have the energy to hand them to him, just stood limply while he grabbed them from you and mumbled out a thank you. You felt like a zombie again as you trudged toward the car, then flung yourself into the seat. You slumped against Reddington, face burrowed into his shoulder.

“Is this real?” He shifted beneath you and draped an arm over your waist, his thumb rubbing circles on your back.

“Unfortunately so.”

You choked back a sob and tightened your grip on his suit.

“The place we’re going… can it be dark too? I like things better in the dark.”

He let out a soft hum of affirmation and something in you realized he was already planning on it. Perhaps if both of you were different people you’d be creeped out by this, but you had long since gotten used to his surveillance. He liked to tell you one could never be too careful.

“Red? One more thing?”

He hummed again to let you know he was listening.

“The man that hit them… I want him to hurt.”

He let out a soft chuckle and draped something over your back.

“That can be arranged.”

#blacklist #the blacklist #raymond reddington #red reddington #reddington #reddington x reader #Raymond reddington x reader #red x reader #the blacklist x reader #reddington x you #the blacklist x you #writing #x reader

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writingbyshiloh · 9 months ago

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In bed rn BUT do y’all think Red would carry a little travel size bottle of your perfume when he’s away for business?

A photo is too dangerous because it’s too identifiable, but the SMELL of you? Perfect and subtle when he catches a whiff of it on his suit while flying or a safe house pillow

#raymond reddington x reader #x reader #I started s10 tonight and yeah…. I miss him

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theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction · 11 months ago

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Imagine being frustrated with Reddington again...

Red was in the middle of a very crucial case trying to deliver Elizabeth Keen information that she needed. Just as he opened a bottle of scotch, you walked into the room unannounced with a frown and your phone in hand.

“Why did you piss off Hakim?”

Reddington sighed and waved you off. “Not now, Y/n.”

“No. I’ve already bought my outfit and now he calls and tells me ‘not to bother coming to the wedding’?” You argued and looked over to where Elizabeth was standing, flashing her a smile. “Hi, Liz. How are you?”

The young woman cleared her throat and folded her arms awkwardly, caught in the middle of the feud. “We’re - uh - trying to find a chemical weapon that can’t be traced.” She explained briefly.

Reddington had poured himself a glass but found the drink quickly swiped from his fingers by a very annoyed you. Sipping the scotch, you turned to Elizabeth.

“Have you tried isolating the radiation levels to their subatomic particles? Something that small will leave a path.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened and she looked at Reddington. “I thought that wasn’t possible?”

You chuckled and took a seat on Reddington's sofa. “That’s because you’re not me.” Looking back at the man by the bar cart, you pointed at him. "Now, about that wedding invitation..."

~ More imagines here ~

#theladyofmanyfandoms #theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction #gif is not mine #blacklist x reader #blacklist imagine #the blacklist imagine #reddington x reader #raymond reddington x reader #raymond reddington imagine #reddington imagine

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profeyandere · 7 months ago

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Click if you want to go to the main Masterlist

ʀᴀʏᴍᴏɴᴅ ʀᴇᴅᴅɪɴɢᴛᴏɴ │ •➤ Qᴜᴇᴇɴ ᴏꜰ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛꜱ [coming soon] │ •➤ ᴛʀᴜꜱᴛ [coming soon] ╰─────────────

ᴇʟɪᴢᴀʙᴇᴛʜ ᴋᴇᴇɴ │ •➤ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ ╰─────────────

ᴅᴏɴᴀʟᴅ ʀᴇꜱꜱʟᴇʀ │ •➤ ꜱᴀꜰᴇ ╰─────────────

#the blacklist #reader #imagines #one shot #raymond reddington #elizabeth keen #donald ressler #raymond reddington x reader #elizabeth keen x reader #donald ressler x reader

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kingdoraemon · 2 months ago

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Writing Something Story?

Hey guys! Any idea who should I make story? Or drama?

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theyanderespecialist · 2 years ago

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Base Yandere Raymond Reddington Headcanons: Manipulation (+ Romantic HC with S/O) The Blacklist

#Yandere #YandereRaymondReddington #YandereTheBlacklist #RaymondReddington #RaymondReddingtonxReader #Reader #TheBlacklist #Headcanons #YandereHeadcanons

[Hello, My Sexy Muffins! Here are those headcanons I said I would do! I hope that you all enjoy this chapter here and these headcanons, a mix of base and also the bonus romantic with S/O!]

(Disclaimer: Raymond Reddington is not yandere in canon, though he does have issues he is not yandere. This is just for fun and not to be taken seriously at all. Simping for fictional yanderes and characters is fine, just do not be illegal or gross about it. Also, remember to separate fiction from reality and headcanon from canon. Yanderes are not ideal partners to have in real life. No Matter how charming they may be!)

-Base Yandere Headcanons With Raymond Reddington X GN Listener-

.Raymond is a highly intelligent individual.

.He is also very driven as well.

.On another end he has developed sociopathic tendencies, most likely due to PTSD since he was not born that way.

.With this he takes pleasure in torturing rivals and anyone who dares hurt you.

.He is very much in love with you, his past lovers never compared to you.

.He is a very sly and manipulative yandere as well.

.Thing is most of the time you cannot tell that he is manipulating you.

.As he is very charming and a professional liar.

.It is almost impossible for you to know that he is manipulating you and catching you in his web of lies.

.He also hates rude people (I wonder who that reminds me of hmmmmmm~)

. Especially if they are rude to you.

.If you are rude, you will be getting a spanking that is for sure. (You might like the spanking as well. we do not kink shame lol)

.He has no qualms with killing people, so he will for sure kill anyone that gets in the way of his love for you.

.Even his friends are not safe from his mission to have you.

.He would also spoil you silly, he adores you more than anything.

.Giving you anything and everything you needed.

.You also will be under his watchful eye and his protection always.

.No one will harm you if he has anything to say about it, which most likely he would.

.He is so kind, sweet, and loving to you.

.A side he rarely shows to anyone else.

.He is also a man of his word, when he says he will make you love him, he means it.

.He also will protect you with everything he has. Dedicating his entire being to keeping you safe, loving you, and having a family with you.

.He would confess to you in a romantic way, candlelit dinner in Pairs, a harp playing.

.It does not matter if you say no.

.He is still going to have you, at this point, you are too deep in.

.There is no way you could escape Reddington even if you wanted to.

.You are His!

-Bonus Romantic Headcanons With Yandere Raymond Reddington X S/O GN Reader

.He loves you and you love him.

.He spoils you all the time, picking up the most wonderful things for you.

.Showering you with love and affection.

.Nothing is ever going to stop him from adoring you.

.He truly adores you.

.He would be the type of partner to take you on spontaneous trips.

.Taking you Anywhere around the world to spoil you to even just a dinner.

.He loves dancing with you and showing you off.

.Though he denies showing you off of course.

.Is incredibly romantic and caring.

.If you have a craving he has that item to you within hours at most.

.He also dots on you.

.Physical touch is a big part of his love language.

.Just holding your hand or stroking your hair, or just holding you.

.He loves and adores it.

.He wants to give you the world and he will.

.Of course, you two will get married very soon.

.The most intimate but beautiful wedding ceremony.

.He would give you, your dream home, in your dream country.

.Having it as a safe haven, where you will always be safe and you both can raise a family.

.Of course, this all is almost too good to be true.

.Anyone who has hurt you in the past, even before you met Raymond. Die. Painfully.

.Anyone who tries to get you to leave him is taken care of.

.He paid off your lover before him to leave you and break your heart.

.In which he swooped in and manipulated you into being with him. You are now his and he planned it all from the very moment he met you.

.You are blissfully unaware of just how much he manipulated you and how truly dangerous he is.

.After all, ignorance is bliss.

[YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS another chapter is done! I hope you all enjoyed this, and stay sexy, all of my sexy muffins!]

#yandere #yandere raymond reddington #yandere the blacklist #yandere headcanons #headcanons #the blacklist #raymond reddington the blacklist #raymond reddington #raymond reddington x reader #reader #gender neutral reader

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iseethedead-blog1 · 2 years ago

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end of an era yn x Raymond Reddington

\I got this idea from a song from Michelle Gurrvich - end of an era, the whole song is in this

yn looks at red "I'm leaving, Berlin." Raymond looks at yn and spoke "You've been threatening that for years, but this is it, remember how we met as strangers on the street."

Yn spoke as she glares at Reddington "I said you were a creep and so began our friendship." Reddington nods "Our favorite meeting place, our favorite cafe, only so many times these eras in our lives we never realize, till come the turning of the tides."

Yn sighs softly as she spoke "now it's the end of an era, end of an era, my friend." Yn looks away from Red scared of what she'd see in red's eyes

Raymond has fear in his eyes as he spoke back "It's the end of an era, end of an era when our lives so effortlessly collide, we had good times didn't we, Yn?"

Yn nodded as she finally looked at red getting his courage up "we had good times didn't we, Red?" She smiles softly at him her eyes are light and full of happiness she was afraid to look afraid of the man's anger

Red spoke again "friendships don't end we know but time and place the river flows." He smiles softly at Yn "we'll meet in other circumstances five years we spent in a daily dance."

Yn turns away from him with the same smile on her lips "how I'd often turn and see your face from me for so long unfamiliar, it happened suddenly, a stranger you were to me." She takes a deep breath as she continued to speak "next day I looked and realize that no one knew me better, it's the end of an era, red."

Red chuckles "It's the end of an era, Yn, end of an era when our lives did so effortlessly collide, we had a good time didn't we Yn."

Yn nods and smiles lightly as she left Berlin and went to a different country going on the run far away from Germany

#song post #raymond reddington x reader #Raymond Reddington fanfic

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thekirbishow · 1 year ago

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GVF is in my city tonight and I’m so sad I can’t go.

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mrsjellymunson · 3 months ago

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Hey, Boss

A prequel to Hello, Stranger

Characters: Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley, Jim Hopper, Raymond ‘Red’ Reddington, Mr Kaplan, Dembe Zuma

Pairing: None until the next part (where it becomes Eddie Munson x gn!reader)

AU: Stranger Things AU with elements of The Blacklist

Summary: Eddie falls into a new line of work…

WC: ~3.9k

CW: 18+ MDNI. This miniseries is SFW, depending on your tolerance for dark/violent themes, but most of my blog is 18+ so minors please be aware of this and DNI. Dark humour, black comedy. Allusions to drug use, alcohol consumption, violence, crime and murder. Weapons, bodies and death are discussed. No smut, no reader in this part. This is a Stranger Things AU, the upside down is very briefly alluded to but Eddie doesn’t know about it. No time period mentioned, so if events or technology don’t track that’s why that’s my story and I’m sticking to it. The characters don’t know each other like they do in ST.

A/N: This is the prequel to ‘Hello, Stranger’. The two parts can be read in either order. As in the original part, there are some Easter eggs in here, this time from The Blacklist (obvs), Stargate, and a deliciously niche one from John Wick. Let me know if you spot any!

A/N additional: I would never have believed that I’d be revisiting this story a year after publishing it to add a fun little prologue, but here we are! 😃 The original part was written for a Halloween prompt event last year and was the first lengthy thing I’d shared; I was SO ridiculously nervous about posting it, you have no idea 🫣 Reading it again now, would I change things in the original? Yes. But mainly things like punctuation and formatting, because I think over the last year my writing has become clearer, so I’m kinda pleased that I’d leave the story exactly how it is. For anyone discovering this for the first time, I hope you enjoy!! Please let me know with a comment/reblog/feral spewings in my inbox, I’d love it, srsly 😉🖤

I have an Easter egg reveal post planned for this miniseries, if you’d like to hear about it just ask to be added to my general taglist where you can get notified about all my writing posts ☺️🖤

My masterlist

It’s a chilly October night, close to Halloween, and Eddie’s blasted out of his mind. Gareth got hold of some super strong skunk from a cousin who was visiting from out of state, and that combined with a few cool beers has left him even more buzzed than usual.

Forgoing his van on the insistence of his friends, and wanting to get home to the relative warmth of the trailer sooner rather than later, he’s decided to take a shortcut across Merrill Wright’s fields.

High as all hell, he's staggering as he navigates the pumpkins, managing to avoid most of the obvious orange orbs but forgetting that their tendrils need looking out for too.

He’s already tripped a couple of times, and curses out the vines for both being invisible at night and clearly conspiring with each other to sabotage his journey home. He swears that at least twice he’s seen them move...

Pushing through a thin layer of trees separating one field from the next, he stumbles forwards as an impeding branch snaps and gives way. Moving too quickly to stop himself, he totters forwards, hoping to regain his balance once he’s free of the spindly foliage.

But surprisingly, his feet fail to connect with anything at all, the ground disappears, and Eddie falls face first into… nothing.

Though it doesn’t remain nothing for long, swiftly becoming the harsh smack of hard, and very cold, dirt against his knees, torso and face.

Shocked, confused and more than a little winded, Eddie grunts and rolls onto his side, groaning.

“Oooooohhhhhh fuuuuuuuckk…. What the hell—?”

He spits out a few clods of mud, and possibly part of a worm (sorry, dude), and tries to work out what just happened.

His hair has fallen over his face, and he pushes the waves, now bedecked with a sprinkling of leaves and soil, out of his eyes and looks upwards.

Instead of the expected expanse of the clear night sky, perhaps even a few constellations if he cared to look carefully, his vision seems to have tunnelled, a significant proportion of it now a deep black.

Sitting upright, he briefly wonders whether he’s concussed, or worse, but then the sound of someone speaking garners his undivided attention.

A light, high voice cuts through the night.

“Hey, do you hear something?”

Eddie freezes, eyes wide. He’s not sure whether he’s comforted or more freaked out to discover he’s not the only one in this field at this time of night. This dark, isolated, middle-of-nowhere, nobody-within-screaming-distance field.

Another voice, deeper than the first, replies,

“Like what?”

“I dunno, a grunt maybe?”

“A grunt? Uhh, no.”

“Why am I asking you anyway? Your ears are shot after one too many sportsball encounters…”

“Hey, shut up.”

Eddie hears some shuffling and a chortle, like two people jostling each other, before the deeper voice speaks again, but it’s in no way comforting.

“Uh, this guy’s definitely dead, right?”

There’s a noise that sounds like thick plastic being prodded with something.

“Yeah, yeah, this guy definitely. But I’m sure I heard something from over there.”

“Are you trying to spook me? You know how much I hate Halloween.”

Eddie hears an overly dramatic brrr and the rustling of clothing, and he imagines the guy shivering, like he’s shaking off a covering of non-existent snow.

Eddie, terrified but with a new sense of urgency, and eyes adjusting to the new level of darkness, glances more fully around his environment, figuring out that he’s definitely below ground level and in some kind of a hole. He spreads his arms wide, moving them around, and notices he can feel the edges on two sides, but not all four, meaning it’s a long hole. Long enough for him to lay down in. A hole, long enough to fit a human being in, but not much else. Okay, so…

Wait, this is a fucking grave! Fuck, he’s in a goddamn motherfucking grave!!

Eddie stands, wobbling a little, and notices his eyeline is still below ground level. He reaches up, grabbing at the soil at the edge of the hole, but it’s dry and loose and crumbles in his hands. He tries to jump, grabbing at anything he can find on the ground, but to no avail. It’s tilled earth and there are no branches or roots, not even grass, that he can grab to pull himself out. He mentally takes back everything he said about pumpkin vines…

Suddenly he hears a dull thud, the sound of dragging, muttering, and two people grunting.

Shit, they’re getting closer. And now there’s a large package wrapped in blue plastic at the edge of the hole, and they’ve just dropped two shovels, and—

Feigning nonchalance, Eddie leans a muddy shoulder against the raw earth, one hand on his hip and the other swiping through his hair as two faces, backlit by moonlight, hove into view. His voice cracks with,

“Hee-eeey guys, how’s it goin’?”

What the hell?? He’s literally standing in an open grave, that these two have probably just dug, and that’s the best he can come up with?

The figures regard Eddie, then turn to each other, then look back at Eddie. They both frown and in unison cock their heads sideways in the same direction, and Eddie, stoned and in shock as he is, has to suppress a giggle.

Fuck, that weed really was strong… Damn you, Gareth’s cousin!

One of the figures, the slighter of the two, gestures into the hole with a muddy, gloved hand, asking,

“Is he one of yours?”

The other guy looks both startled and mildly offended.

“What? No! Of course not!”

“Well, there was that one time where you, y’know, missed the mark, and we had to spend an hour chasing the guy before we put him down.”

The taller of the two flaps his arms exasperatedly, trying to point an index finger in the air but failing, the heavy duty gloves he’s wearing making him look more like he’s holding up a fist.

“One time! The one time I miss a goddamn artery and you’ve never let me live it down. Jeez man, gimme a goddamn break!”

“Okay, okay, I’m just sayin’”

“Well don’t! I don’t appreciate it when you criticise my abilities and undermine my self esteem.”

The slimmer figure speaks again, resting the knuckles of one gloved hand against their waist.

“Did your therapist tell you to say that?”

“Hey, don’t knock it. She’s helping me process my intergenerational trauma and internalised lack of self-worth.”

The tall figure says the words like he’s reciting from a book, but he says them with conviction. Eddie briefly wonders whether he should ask the guy for the title. He finishes with,

“Anyway, I don’t know who the fuck this asshole is.”

Hands now on his hips, he turns his attention back to Eddie, who, whilst they’d been talking, had been surreptitiously clawing at the back edge of the hole, trying desperately to lever himself out.

The figure with the higher voice turns to their compatriot, and with a somewhat sardonic tone to their voice remarks,

“Well, I suppose we’d better try and find out who this asshole is, and where he came from, huh?”

They lean forwards into the hole and brace themselves with their hands against their knees.

The skinnier figure begins the interrogation with,

“Did Andrea send you? Was it Annie?”

The taller guy continues,

“Wait, was it Red? Cuz if it was Red you can tell him it’s not fuckin’ funny…”

Eddie stammers,

“N-n-o, man, no. I don’t know who any of those people are. I’m, uh, I’m nobody, literally! I was just stoned, and walkin’ home and I, uh, just kinda, fell into this… whatever this delightful arrangement is.”

He gestures around him, attempting to convey that he neither knows, nor cares, exactly what this is.

Tall guy regards him down his nose.

“So, if nobody sent you, then nobody knows you’re here. But now you know we’re here. And I’m guessing that you’re guessing what we’re about to do here. So, I’m guessing the best thing all the way around is if you, y’know, stay here…”

Eddie, in his inebriated state, didn’t completely follow what this guy just said, but when the guy reaches behind him into his belt, and Eddie hears the unmistakable metallic clink of a gun being retrieved, he gets the message pretty damn quickly.

The shovels, the ‘package’, the gun… oh god!

“Nonononono! Waitwaitwait!!”

He extends his arms and frantically waves his filthy hands in front of him in supplication.

Think, Eddie, think!! What would you encourage the sheep to do in such an impossible campaign situation? Thiiiiiiink!

The guy levels the gun at Eddie’s head. He still can’t see their faces clearly, but he can most certainly make out the end of the barrel as it glints in the moonlight.

Eddie scrunches his eyes up tight, grimacing, every muscle in his body tensing in expectation of the horror to come.

Abruptly, his mind fills with the most bizarre and inspired creative idea that he thinks he’s ever had.

Fuck, that weed really was strong… Thank you, Gareth’s cousin!

“What if I told you I could help make your job easier? Maybe more enjoyable? Or, at the very least, more interesting?”

He sees the barrel of the gun lower ever so slightly.

Oh good, now it’s not aimed at his head. Just at his chest. Progress?

He presses on.

“Your bosses want you to make people disappear, right? Boring, efficient, sure. But not that interesting. Probably doesn’t pay all that well either, huh?”

The two figures look at each other again, frowning, and Eddie’s pretty sure they're deciding whether they should let the guy in the hole keep talking, or just shut him up for good, drop the other package in and cover them both over.

“How about we give ‘em a little something extra first? Like a show? A demonstration. An exhibition, if you will.”

Eddie’s got into his stride now, and is walking up and down the length of the six foot hole waving his arms in wide arcs, as if he’s delivering one of his lunchtime diatribes on a canteen table.

“Say there’s some guy who’s been messin’ with your patch. Goods are goin’ missing, or his funds are coming up short. Sure, you could just pop a cap in him and stick him in the ground,”

He glances nervously at the tarp-wrapped bundle,

“But wouldn’t it be more satisfying to really teach him a lesson. Bury him at the four corners of the state? Spray him all over this field? Dissolve him ‘til there’s nothing left? Now that really sends a message, don’tcha think? Plus, it’d sure be entertaining for your bosses to watch. Must get pretty boring for them. Y’know, pop a guy, wrap a guy, pop a guy, wrap a guy…”

He regards the two heavies carefully, trying to judge whether he’s made any impression on them whatsoever. They’re looking at each other and then back at Eddie.

Eventually the bigger figure speaks.

“Whaddaya think, Rob? Shall we take him back to talk to—“

“Fuckssake Steve, don’t tell him my name! Ah, fuck, Jeez…”

Sighing, the figure turns back towards Eddie.

“Yeah, okay, if this is as revelatory as you say it is, then fine. But it better be. Don’t make us come back out here for a second time tonight.”

Eddie takes this threat very, very seriously.

“Okay, okay, whatever you say. I’ll do whatever you need me to do, I swear.”

The figure pauses for a moment, contemplative, before puffing out a long breath from between their lips.

“Well, for a start you can help us finish up with this guy. Steve, get him out of that hole and pass him my shovel...”

Eddie’s only thought is, great, I’m not gonna die! At least, not right now…

———

An hour later, freezing, muddy, exhausted, still terrified and, incongruously, still a little stoned, Eddie walks between Rob and Steve back to their vehicle, an SUV that he notices has “Buckley & Harrington, Landscaping Services & Specialised Waste Disposal” emblazoned on the side.

‘Specialised waste disposal’ indeed…

They bundle Eddie into the back, Rob grousing the whole way, and make him lie under yet another blue tarp so he can’t see where they’re going. He doesn’t much like being on this side of the plastic, and dearly hopes it’s the only time he has to experience it.

After some time, and a number of bruises acquired from sliding around the truck bed, the truck stops and the two figures start to bundle Eddie out of the back.

Still partially under the tarp, Eddie sees the lower half of a large, heavy set man in military fatigues and combat boots join them outside. Still shaken from the evening’s events and disoriented from the uncomfortable journey, Eddie can’t quite make out their entire conversation. He does hear what the hell and let me explain, plus a lot of grumbling in what could be a West African accent.

Finally freed from the tarp, Eddie is grabbed by the shoulders from behind by a pair of very strong hands, dragged off the truck bed and shoved, stumbling, forwards.

The three figures walk him into an old warehouse, the huge shutters open to the night and the entire place brightly lit and remarkably active given the hour. It’s crammed with pallets, shelves, crates, people and machinery. There are forklifts lifting things in and out of trucks and people carrying paperwork and speaking on phones. Many seem to have ominous-looking bulges in their waistbands and jackets that Eddie really doesn’t want to become any more closely acquainted with.

A large man is barking orders and holding a mug that says coffee and contemplation on the side, but judging by the subtle wince that happens each time he takes a swig, Eddie suspects it contains something stronger than his favourite Java. His voice is gruff, and to his great surprise, Eddie recognises it.

“Uh, Hopper, is that you?”

The man turns, frowning at first, but as he clocks Eddie his free hand flaps dejectedly at his side and his eyes roll up into his skull.

“Oh Jeez. What the hell is he doing here? What have you two idiots done now?”

Eddie's new acquaintances look sheepishly at each other. The one named Rob ventures,

“Uh, he has a proposal for Red, something about a novel business idea?”

“Goddamnit, I know this guy! And now, thanks to you two bozos, he knows me too!”

Steve interjects this time,

“Just give him five minutes with Mr Kaplan, boss! Honestly, I think Red’s gonna love this.”

Hopper doesn’t look convinced, but he grabs a guy with a clipboard as he scurries past and asks him to find whoever Mr Kaplan is. Eddie doesn’t like the sound of this. The dude sounds pretty scary.

After no more than a minute, a small, tweed-clad lady appears. She’s older than everyone here, and her face is pinched, but somehow also looks kind. Eddie imagines she’d look far more at home in a library than… whateverthisis. He wonders if she’s Mr Kaplan’s secretary, or something.

“Come on then you two, spit it out. I don’t have all day.”

The two stammer and splutter their way through an explanation, trying to justify why they not only spared this guy, but also brought him back to their base of operations. Eddie finally comprehends that this is Mr Kaplan. He doesn’t know whether to be relieved, or even more terrified.

At various points Mr Kaplan sucks in her cheeks, tilts her head and folds her arms, reminding Eddie of every disapproving teacher he ever had, and more than once he considers how far he might get if he hightailed it through those large doors and made off into the night. But then he remembers how he got here, who he’s with, the amount of hardware everyone appears to be carrying, how often he skipped PT at school, how much he’s smoked this evening (not to mention over the last however many years), and, not least, the fact that he has less than no clue about where he actually is.

Finally, the two cronies stop talking, and Mr Kaplan’s focus turns entirely to Eddie. Despite being significantly taller than she is, he feels about two feet high under her gaze, and that this moment could be about to define his future, his fate.

“Well, dearie, it’s certainly a unique proposition. And one I’m intrigued to see if you can pull off. But ultimately, it’s not my decision. All I can do is get you a meeting with Red, and then you’re on your own.”

Steve seems thrilled by this outcome, his eyes wide and a grin on his lips. He shifts in place excitedly and jovially taps his elbow against Eddie’s upper arm. Eddie side-eyes him, guessing the guy is pleased that he isn’t going to suffer any repercussions for going ‘off script’ by bringing Eddie here like this, but he does wonder what on earth makes him think they’re ever going to be friends.

Mr Kaplan nods to Hopper, who takes this as his cue and disappears out of sight. Mr Kaplan doesn’t see it, but Eddie notices his weary-looking eye roll.

Eddie finally gets a good look at the guy who ‘helped’ him off the truck and brought him inside. He’s tall, huge, shaven-headed and intimidating. Eddie doesn’t look for long.

After a few minutes, the shaven-headed heavy motions for Eddie to step into a somewhat more private area of the warehouse, sectioned off by some disturbing-looking medical curtains on rusting rails that offer visual, if not much auditory, privacy. Eddie figures the noise of vehicles and machinery elsewhere likely drown out any talking that goes on in here anyway.

There’s a screen set up that’s displaying a fuzzy, low quality image of a man sitting in what appears to be a lavish sitting room. There’s a picture of a landscape, or maybe sky, hanging to his left, and the audio quality is marred by a low rumble. Eventually, Eddie’s brain catches up and he realises it’s not a picture at all but a window, and what Eddie can see is clouds and what he can hear is the roar of an engine - the guy’s on a plane. All he can think is, Jeezus, this guy must be loaded.

As the image comes into better focus the figure looks oddly familiar. Eddie’s vaguely reminded of a sci-fi film he saw that had Kirt Russell in it and something about pyramids, but he brushes it aside, more important things on his mind.

The man is clad in a fedora and an exquisitely tailored suit, and as Eddie is positioned in front of what he presumes is a camera the figure removes his hat and lifts a crystal tumbler containing a deep brown liquid to his lips.

Hopper fills Eddie in.

“This is Mr Reddington. You can speak when he says you can.”

The well-dressed man speaks first, in a voice that’s even more imposing than that of the tall heavy who brought Eddie in here.

“I understand you have a business proposition for me, young man. I’d like to hear it directly from you, if I may?”

Eddie thinks quickly, describing possible scenarios that he’s come up with. He reiterates the ideas he had earlier, and adds a few more, getting inspiration from horror movies, comics, and even some of his D&D campaigns.

“That does all sound very interesting. And heaven knows we need some levity in this business. But I do need to confer with my colleagues. Chief, what do you think? Does this kid’s idea have legs?”

Hopper and Red have a moment of eye contact, before Hopper sighs loudly and admits, reluctantly,

“It is kinda novel. And he’s basically a good kid, don’t kill him yet, huh? He can be annoying as fuck, but goddamnit if he goes missing we’d have to do at least some kind of an investigation. The amount of people I’d have to interview, the press… The paperwork alone would be hell…”

He pinches the top of his nose, and Red purses his lips, apparently conceding that Hopper’s time would be much better spent doing whatever it is that he does for him rather than wasting it on unimportant matters such as police work. His expression suddenly brightens, and the formerly imposing figure on the screen turns disconcertingly jovial.

“Well, I think it sounds like fun. I’ll tell you what, we’ll try him out for a couple of months and see how he does.”

Hopper turns to look at Eddie.

“Okay, Munson, we’re gonna give you a try. You’d better keep it interesting though, or so help me…”

He makes a small but unsubtle slicing motion across his neck with his thumb. Eddie takes it at face value, knowing he means it.

Red addresses the whole group now.

“You know, this reminds me of the time I was playing miniature golf in Andalucia with the Sultan of Brunei and Jimmy Hoffer. Richard Pryor walked up and asked if any of us knew anything about llama farming. We all looked at him askance, I mean, do any of us look like we did? But then, to my great surprise and delight, the Sultan said…”

The burly dude holds Eddie around the shoulders again, but more gently than before. At least, Eddie assumes it’s gentle. The guy’s stature suggests significantly more physical ‘prowess’, which Eddie’s grateful he's not been on the receiving end of. He’s steered away from the screen and back towards the main area of the warehouse.

Nervously, just before they leave the curtained off area and afraid this might be seen as an offense, Eddie stammers,

“Where’re we- Shouldn’t I…?”

The man’s deep, caramel voice carries easily to Eddie’s ears, as he remarks,

“Trust me, you don’t want to be on the receiving end of any more of Raymond’s epic tales than you absolutely have to be. You can thank me later.”

Eddie looks back over his shoulder, just in time to see Chief Hopper’s brow crinkle and raise in what looks to be a poor facsimile of engagement, and he takes another, deep, swig from his coffee mug. He, apparently, knew he was in it for the duration.

They reach the area where Steve and Rob are still standing, apparently playing some kind of thumb war game. The big guy extends a powerful-looking hand towards Eddie, clasping his own in an iron grip. There’s a soft smile on his face as he looks down and says,

“Welcome to the team. I’m Dembe, by the way.”

Mr Kaplan finishes up a conversation she’s having nearby with another pair of guys with clipboards and conspicuous gun holsters, and as she’s making her way out, she remarks to Eddie,

“You’re in luck, you can start tonight. We’re expecting another package, so you can help these two clowns. God knows they need it.”

Steve frowns, and Rob emits a quiet,

“Hey—”

Mr Kaplan continues,

“No need for anything elaborate right now dearie, save that for next time. But we do need some supplies. Dembe, get him some cash from the office.”

Eddie’s conflicted. He’s confused, excited, relieved, and, yep, still a little wasted.

He does have his typical nervousness about how well he’s actually gonna be able to “perform”, and how long he can keep up the interest in what he’s suggested. Following a brief discussion with Steve and Rob, a few crumpled bills are shoved into his overly-sweaty palm.

Of course, his main thought is, great, I’m not gonna die! At least, not tonight…

But his overriding concern soon becomes:

Where the hell is he going to find rope, duct tape and a shovel at this time of night??

Next part, ‘Hello, Stranger’

My masterlist

I really hope you enjoyed this little prologue! Please reblog and leave comments, your support means everything to writers 🖤🙏

Tagging my ‘everything’ list, ILY @joejoequinnquinn @jamdoughnutmagician @guiltyasquinn @madaboutmunson @airen256 @sunshinepeachx @the-unforgivenn @skrzydlak @comeonatmebruh @jamiecb66 @80s-addict @abellmunsonmovie @definitionwanderlust @sheneedsrocknroll92 @munson-blurbs @wonderlanddreamer @daisy-munson @maedesculpaeusoubi @kurdtbean @mediocredreams @in2tswft @micheledawn1975 @littlebebebunny @12thatsanumber @alastorssimp @the-baby-angel @eddie-is-a-god @wolfqueenxxx @sassidykassidy @richter-raccoon @1deverland

Also tagging those who commented on/reblogged the first one, just lemme know if you’d rather not be! @bakusquadobsessed @mewchiili @bettyfrommars @pedroschka @transparent-enemy @ali-r3n @fracturedarkness @tinytyphooncloud @alverdekote @elegantkoalapaper @ddaydreamdelusionss @ramona-thorns @vitzi9 @lurkingprincess @cherrysabbath @pullingattheroots

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wittyandobsessed · 3 days ago

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𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐞

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 | Raymond Reddington x Reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | none.

𝘋𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘙𝘦𝘥, 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭.

The room was dimly lit, shadows stretching across the sleek furniture and reflecting off the crystal glasses scattered on the table. You adjusted the diamond bracelet on your wrist—a gift from Red, though purely for the cover—and scanned the room for anything out of place. The opulent setting was a stark contrast to your usual world of police raids and interrogations. But then again, everything about your life had changed since you’d crossed that line.

You’d joined the force with the belief that justice was black and white, but over the past year, the gray had crept in. Corruption had seeped into your department like a disease. People you’d trusted, respected, had turned out to be dirty—taking bribes, covering for criminals, and worse. You couldn’t stomach it anymore. That was when you’d turned to Raymond Reddington.

It was ironic, really. A criminal—a mastermind, no less—had more honor in his little finger than most of the cops you worked with. Red had entered your life three years ago, and though you’d started as adversaries, he’d quickly become… something else. A confidant. A partner. Maybe more, though you’d never dared to acknowledge it outright.

Now, here you were, on an undercover mission with him, playing the part of his younger, adoring wife to retrieve critical information from one of his rivals. You were no stranger to dangerous operations, but this one felt different. Not just because of the stakes, but because of the way Red’s arm rested possessively around your waist, keeping you close.

It was supposed to be fake. The whispered terms of endearment, the gentle touches, the way his thumb stroked your lower back. It was all part of the act. But it didn’t feel fake. Not to you.

“Darling,” he murmured in your ear, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “You’re perfect. Keep it up.”

A shiver ran down your spine, but you quickly masked it with a bright smile, leaning into him as though his words hadn’t just sent your heart racing.

“I should hope so,” you replied smoothly, your lips barely moving as you kept up the charade. “If I mess this up, you’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

He chuckled, the sound deep and rich, before tilting his head to press a kiss to your temple. To anyone watching, it was the casual affection of a devoted husband. To you, it was something far more dangerous.

The evening dragged on, tension thick in the air as you played your part. Every time his hand slid to your hip, every lingering glance, every murmured word, it became harder to remember that this was all for show. Especially when his whispered comments grew more playful.

“If you keep looking at me like that, my dear,” he murmured as you walked arm in arm through the crowd, “I might start to think you mean it.”

You shot him a glare, though the corner of your mouth betrayed you with a faint twitch. “Behave,” you whispered back, but your voice lacked conviction.

The mission took a turn when one of the host’s guards grew suspicious, his eyes narrowing as he muttered something to a colleague. You caught the exchange, the way their gazes flicked to you and Red, and your stomach dropped.

“They’re onto us,” you said softly, your grip tightening on Red’s arm.

He didn’t miss a beat, his expression remaining calm, though you could feel the tension in his posture. “Follow my lead,” he murmured.

But before he could do anything, inspiration—or desperation—struck. If you were going to sell this act, you needed to go all in.

Before Red could react, you grabbed his tie and tugged him toward the nearby sofa. He let out a small sound of surprise as you pushed him down, straddling him without hesitation.

“Darling,” he started, but whatever he was about to say was cut off as you leaned down and kissed him.

It wasn’t just a kiss; it was an all-consuming, earth-shattering display of passion. You poured everything into it—your fear, your adrenaline, your feelings that you’d buried so deep for so long. Your hands roamed over his head as his arms instinctively wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer.

For everyone watching, it was a convincing act of a wife madly in love with her husband. But for you, it wasn’t an act at all.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, you glanced at the guards out of the corner of your eye. They’d lost interest, smirking at what they assumed was nothing more than an overly affectionate couple.

Red’s eyes, however, were locked on yours. Dark, searching, and—most dangerously of all—aware. His hands lingered on your hips as he whispered, just loud enough for you to hear, “That was... unexpected.”

You couldn’t help the blush that crept up your neck, but you played it off with a small smirk. “Seemed like the best way to keep us alive.”

His lips twitched, but his gaze never wavered. “Remind me to thank you properly later.”

You slipped off his lap, your pulse still racing, and adjusted your dress as though nothing had happened. But as the evening continued, you couldn’t shake the weight of what that kiss had meant—not to your cover, but to you.

And judging by the way Red’s hand lingered on your back, his thumb tracing small circles, he couldn’t shake it either.

The ride back to Red’s safe house was quiet, the tension thick in the air. Dembe sat in the driver’s seat, his usual calm demeanor unshaken, but you could feel his occasional glances at you through the rearview mirror. You sat in the back with Red, awkwardly fidgeting with the hem of your dress, hyper-aware of the man beside you.

He was silent too, his gaze fixed out the window, though his posture was relaxed, almost nonchalant. But you knew better. Red’s mind was never idle. The weight of what had happened lingered between you, unspoken but undeniable.

When the car finally pulled up to the house, Dembe stepped out to open the door for you. You murmured a quiet thanks, stepping into the cool night air, Red following closely behind. The sound of your heels clicking against the pavement felt deafening in the stillness.

Inside the house, the warmth of the fire greeted you, along with the faint smell of aged wood and leather. You removed your coat, draping it over the back of a chair, and turned to find Red watching you. His tie was slightly loosened, the faintest shadow of a smirk playing on his lips.

“Well,” he said, his voice smooth and even, “that was quite the performance.”

You swallowed hard, your cheeks heating. “It got the job done.”

He stepped closer, his hands slipping into his pockets as he tilted his head, studying you. “It certainly did. And if I recall,” he added, his tone dropping to something deeper, “I told you to remind me to thank you properly later.”

Your heart skipped, the room suddenly feeling too warm. You tried to deflect, a nervous laugh escaping your lips. “I wasn’t planning on cashing in that favor.”

Red chuckled softly, the sound rich and indulgent as he closed the space between you. “Ah, but I always keep my promises.” His hand lifted, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. The touch was light, barely there, but it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Red,” you began, but whatever protest you might have had faltered when he cupped your cheek, his thumb grazing your skin with a gentleness that left you breathless.

“You were incredible tonight,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Brilliant, fearless, utterly captivating. And you have no idea how hard it was to keep my composure after that kiss.”

Your breath hitched, your heart hammering in your chest. “It wasn’t just for the cover,” you admitted softly, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

His gaze darkened, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles on your cheek. “I know,” he said, his voice heavy with emotion. “And that’s why this is no longer about thanking you.”

Before you could respond, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was nothing like the one you’d shared earlier. This wasn’t for show, wasn’t part of any charade. This was real—raw, passionate, and filled with a depth of emotion that left you trembling.

His hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, his lips moving against yours with a fervor that made your knees weak. Your fingers found their way to his neck as you melted into him, every thought, every doubt slipping away.

When he finally pulled back, just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath was warm against your lips. “You deserve so much more than this life,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “But I’m selfish enough to want you in it anyway.”

You smiled, your hands trailing down to rest on his chest. “I chose this life, Red. I chose you. And I don’t regret it.”

He looked at you for a long moment, as if trying to memorize every detail, before leaning in again, his lips finding yours with even more intensity. In that moment, nothing else mattered—no missions, no enemies, no lines you’d crossed. It was just the two of you, tangled in a world where everything felt right, even if just for tonight.

#oneshot #x reader #raymond reddington x reader #raymond reddington #the blacklist #blacklist #reader insert

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101crows · 1 year ago

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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

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