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..."
Strolling in with a smile on his face, Reddington picked up one of the newspapers sitting on the hallway table as he walked deeper into the apartment. At the entrance to the living room, he noticed you reclined on the sofa against the open window where the weather was inviting beautiful rays of sunshine.
There was a blue clay mask over your face and you were dressed in a soft robe - clearly taking his notes on how to make the most of a day off.
As the man took a seat on the free couch, he grinned. “One word - breakout.”
Eyes closed, you could recognise Reddington’s footsteps from a mile away. Letting out a sigh, you shuffled in the chair to stretch your relaxing muscles.
“No thanks.”
Reddington blinked at the response. It wasn’t what he had been expecting. “No thanks? You practically jump at breakouts.” He honestly couldn’t remember the last time you refused a task that requiring outsmarting the other team.
“Normally, yes. I do love the occasional prison break - especially if it bothers the authorities. But I’m on a ‘staycation’ for a month.” You replied in a voice filled with zen. “You should try it.”
Flabbergasted, Reddington stared in disbelief. “Y/n, you literally have a small-scale heist in two hours for the Lewis Brothers. That hardly factors as a ‘staycation’.”
“They were booked in prior to my break.”
“Then reschedule - this is important. We need to get Rakitin out of the Post Office.”
Reddington hoped that the details of the mission would be enough to place some weight on the matter - but you merely hummed.
“Oh, he’s very valuable. You should really get him back.”
“So, that’s it? You won’t help?” Reddington scoffed, leaning back in the chair.
You shrugged nonchalantly. “Not really.” Lifting an arm in his direction, you wiggled a few fingers. “Can I have that paper before you leave?”
Casting an incredulous look at Dembe, who smiled, Reddington did as requested with a shake of his head. “Unbelievable.”
Pairing: Donald Ressler x Reader, Raymond Reddington x Reader (platonic)
Warnings: None.
Summary: On a simple dinner date, you were certain that you didn’t order an interruption by one, Raymond Reddington.
Donald reached over and took your hand in his, thumb brushing over your knuckles. He thought of your first meeting at the Bureau when he desperately wanted to hate you but found himself, over the months, being charmed with how different you were to your associate.
Now here you both were in a stable and loving relationship.
“Oh, there you are!” An excitable voice cried out from the doorway. The pair turned and saw Reddington making his way across the restaurant floor with a grin on his face, clearly oblivious to his intrusion. He approached their table and pulled out a seat for himself.
“This is a nice part of town, isn’t it? You know I’ve always wanted to try the peach cobbler here. The reviews are spectacular.” He said, grabbing himself a napkin and not noticing the way you and Donald had moved your hands back. “I wonder if it’s anything like the one we got from the east coast of Venezuela. Do you remember, Y/n? That little cafe by the cherub fountain?”
You scoffed at how oblivious he was and nodded just to indulge his conversation. “And as much as we’d love to discuss Vida’s Venezuelan Bakery, Donald and I were-”
“We we’re undercover.” Donald quickly intercepted the sentence.
Red shook his head and laughed.
“Donald. There are more important things at work than your recon mission. Oh-!” Reddington reached over and wrapped his hand around the champagne bottle at the centre of the table. He was like a child who had spotted his Christmas present under the tree.
“I haven’t seen this in circulation since 2004. Remarkable. I must speak to the chef as to how he acquired this Chardonnay after its discontinuation.” Red got to his feet and excused himself. “I’ll be back.”
You smiled and waved him off, watching as the man disappeared behind the kitchen doors. With Reddington out of sight, you turned to the man opposite.
“Undercover?” You folded your arms across and Donald winced under your stare.
“Sorry, I panicked.”
“Panicked? Why would you-? Hold on, are you scared of Reddington?”
“No.” Donald replied almost too quickly but cleared his throat when he knew that you wouldn't believe the lie. “Okay, yes. I mean, he’s protective of the people that he cares for which includes you and... what?”
There was a smile on your face. “Nothing.”
Suddenly, Reddington reappeared, champagne in one hand and a new bottle of red in the other both of which he placed on the table before taking a seat.
“Apparently there’s a small supplier in Epernay who exports in small batches from a family-owned vineyard.” He explained to listening ears. “Now where was I? Ah, yes. I came for Y/n.”
He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small envelope. It was made of a black velvet and your name had been scrawled in gold ink across the top.
“This came in the mail an hour ago.”
Your eyes widened and you snatched up the item, examining its legitimacy.
“What is that?” Ressler asked.
“It’s a Summons.” Red answered and poured himself a glass of red wine. “Someone’s in town and they require Y/n’s services.”
Ressler noticed how startled you were with the letter and tried to understand why. “Is post not normal?”
Red sipped his drink and leaned back in his chair, a small musing chuckle escaped as he revelled in Ressler’s innocence to his world.
You sighed and set the envelope down, brushing a stray hair behind your ear.
“‘Summons’ are threats. You have to accept the job or you forfeit to a bounty placed on your head.”
Ressler leaned forward, his instinct was to take your hand but the bitter reminder of their seated table guest forced him to settle his hand on the white table cloth instead. “You don’t need to worry. We can get the Task Force to help.”
You looked at your dinner date and scoffed.
“I’m not scared. I’m pissed.” You pointed to the envelope with an expression of anger starting to seep through. “What makes them think they can just walk over me? They can take their Summons and stick it-”
“Meals for Table 8.”
A restaurant attendant returned to your table with carefully balanced trays along her arm. “Stuffed mushrooms for the table, peach cobbler to-go, prawn linguine,” each dish was placed in the empty space, the waitress unaware of what she had interrupted. She set the final plate before you. “And cannelloni. Will there be anything else?”
You scoffed and stared at the food, appetite lost. Donald smiled at the restaurant worker and cleared his throat to reset his voice.
“Uh, I think we’re good. Thank you.”
The lady nodded and walked away, leaving the trio to their business. Donald noticed the way you started scrunching your napkin and couldn’t help but feel helpless. He wasn’t part of the underground scene so he couldn’t charge at the person who had targeted you without consequence.
“One hurdle at a time, okay?” He reminded softly.
Red nodded and looked at his associate. “Donald’s right. You can’t fight a war on two fronts. Finish this undercover mission and then we’ll-“
“It’s a date.” You blurted out and sent a shrug at the surprised expression of Reddington and Ressler. “This is a date. Donald and I have been seeing each other for the past four months.”
It felt like the room had fallen to silence when it continued to bustle with merry diners. You had ripped a bandage from a wound and the sting was yet to come.
Suddenly, the bureau’s informant belted out a laugh. “Oh, Y/n, your dinner jests are so much fun. I’ve always loved your humour. A date with Donald - oh, can you imagine?”
You squinted at his denial. “This was an anniversary dinner.”
Red dismissed your statement casually and chuckled at the idea. “You can’t be involved with anyone from the bureau.”
Ahem.
You scoffed and snatched up your glass of champagne from the table.
“Well, we already are. I’m not asking for permission or forgiveness. It’s just one hurdle at a time.”
Red sighed and shook his head. “I just handed you a Summons. You need to go off the grid...”
Ahem.
“Oh my god.” You complained loudly, ignorant to the disapproving eyes around you both. “You’re so infuriating that you’ve just moved to number one on my personal blacklist.”
Ahem! Donald cleared his throat louder than the last two and drew the attention of the squabble to himself.
“I think it’s best if I see myself out for this.” He said as he stood to his feet. Ressler looked at you apologetically for a moment before catching Reddington’s scowl and stepped away from the table, promptly leaving the restaurant in the night.
You sank in the chair and started to rip the napkin into small pieces. You had gotten through half of the tissue in silence when Reddington put his hand over your to stop the action.
“I have nothing against Donald. If fact, I couldn’t be more supportive.” He told you honestly with a much quieter voice. “I just worry that replying to the letter will put targets on both of your backs.”
You shook your head. “If I answer one Summons, I’ll get ten more by Saturday. I won’t open myself up to contract work again.”
Reddington patted your hand. “Then we have work to do to find our mystery postman.” He said, grabbing his hat and standing to leave. “But first, we need to make a stop.”
You pulled out your wallet and set several notes on the table to pay for the uneaten meals. Putting your own coat on, you stashed the black envelope into your pocket and looked up.
“Where to?”
Red smiled back and picked up the boxed peach cobbler. Knowing that he wasn’t planning on saying more, you followed the man out of the fancy diner and to his car where Dembe was waiting.
The ride was quiet save for the soft jazz playing on the radio and the occasional sound of gravel when the vehicle turned onto uneven road. You kept your hands in your pockets, thumb absentmindedly tracing the edge of the black paper as you thought of a way out of the job and the bounty that didn’t result in bloodshed.
The car rolled to a stop, rocking you gently from your mind. You peered outside and noticed that you were on a familiar street. You turned to Reddington with a puzzled frown. “I don’t get it.”
Red picked up the box and handed it over. “You still have time to salvage what remains of your evening.”
You looked at the box with a sigh. “We need to deal with the summons-”
“And you will - tomorrow.” Red nodded.
Biting your lip, you stopped fighting the request and took item. You turned in your seat to open the door, stepping out in the cold night air.
“One more thing.” Red called out, leaning across the backseat. “I’ll take care of the envelope until then. It’s a burden that can wait.”
He was right. You pulled the Summons from your pocket and passed it over. Instantly, you felt a weight being lifted. Red sent you a smile and a wave before you closed the door and watched the car drive away.
Stepping onto the walkway, you followed the pebbled path until you reached a front porch. Taking a deep breath, you pressed the doorbell. There was a small shuffle inside until the door was opened by Ressler, dressed in a more comfortable red plaid shirt with pleasant surprise written over his face. His mouth opened to speak a greeting, but you spoke first.
“Is it too late for dessert?” You asked. Donald pretended to contemplate the offer, squinting at the object in your hands.
“Peach cobbler?”
You held the box out with a smile. “I’ve heard the reviews are spectacular.”
With a chuckle, Donald stepped to the side to let you in.
Reddington may have ruined the dinner plans but he also managed to redeem it.
Summary: Late at night - you show up at Ressler’s door to ask for help.
There was a banging on the front door that startled Ressler from his living room. He half-ran to the wooden panel and peered into the peephole where he was met with a familiar face. With a sigh, he opened the door slightly and you barged into his home, almost bowling the man over.
“I need your help.” You told him frantically.
There was a small frown on Ressler’s face as he closed and locked the door again, turning around. “Most people call before... are you okay?”
You had begun pacing, rubbing your hands anxiously, which only made the frown deepen.
“Y/n?”
“It’s all a mess... I shouldn’t have come here but I was desperate...”
He tried again. “Y/n?”
“Look, I know you hate me but-“
“Hey!” Donald raised his voice to catch your attention before lowering it to normal. “Take a breath and tell me what you need.”
Silence engulfed the whole living room until you exhaled softly. “I need a shirt.” You requested adding a quick ‘please’ at the end. The man nodded once and rushed into his room to fetch the item that you had asked for without another question.
You turned to the side of the room and noticed a pair of his pants hanging by the fireplace seemingly warm. You crossed the room and took the fabric in your hands, relishing in how hot they were for a brief second before taking advantage of Ressler’s absences from the room.
When the man emerged with one of his purple button-ups, he handed it over and noticed your new trousers.
“Did you steal my pants?” He wondered curiously. You took the shirt and quickly undid your own blouse, surprising the agent who quickly averted his gaze to a painting on the wall behind him. “Are you in danger?”
Considering your line of business with Reddington he was actually worried that you had assassins on your tail. He could hear your clothes drop on the hardwood floor before the familiar rustle of his cotton shirt echoed in the quiet.
“Something like that.” You replied vaguely and his head turned in your direction out of instinct as he spoke. Thankfully, you were fully clothed.
“If you’re in trouble I can...”
“Donald - I really don’t want to discuss it right now.”
The man went quiet and you realised that the tone wasn’t fair considering that he had just tried to help. You sighed heavily and paced the room, hands finding themselves in your hair and fashioning it into something less conspicuous.
“One of Red’s clients is planning to betray and ambush him.” You finally said. “I overheard the plan and watched him murder his right hand. Just as I was leaving, they recognised me. It took a while to shake them off before I came here so you’re safe.”
The explanation was simple and not surprising to the agent who had glimpsed the life of crime on the occasion with you and Reddington.
“I need to contact Red but also I needed a disguise.” You stopped pacing and turned to him, arms raised to the side slightly. “Think this is enough?”
Ressler stared you up and down analysing the outfit while asking himself how you managed to look so incredible in his clothes.
“Just a few things.” He said and disappeared into the room for a few short minutes before reappearing with a belt, a baseball cap and a zip-up hoodie. You took the latter and quickly slid your arms into the hoodie. You then took the belt and fastened it around the borrowed pants.
Ressler then stepped closer and placed the cap atop your head. “Keep your head down when you get into town.” He advised.
“I promise I’ll return these as soon as I can.” You told him but Ressler brushed it off, telling you that it looked better on you than him. The slip of the small confession had the man fluster a little bit until you saved the awkward moment by giving your thanks and apologies for the sudden intrusion and hassle.
Ressler guided you to his backyard door, exchanging a quick goodbye before you disappeared into the dark and left him in the silence once more.
Imagine reminding Reddington that you have his back…
You walked into the front yard and sighed at the sight of your dear friend holding onto Dembe with a frown as he walked. No doubt he was complaining about having to walk a few extra paces for therapy. He noticed your presence and his face lit up. You had only told Dembe that you were paying them visit and, with a smile, crossed the small footpath.
“(Y/n), what are you doing here? I thought you were in hiding?” Reddington asked. You chuckled and held out an arm for him to take as support.
”Hiding?” You smirked. “One bullet to the chest and it’s like you don’t know me at all.”
Guiding the man to a small garden table, you helped him take a seat in a bright blue chair before taking one opposite. You took off your sunglasses and leaned back, crossing one leg over the other.
“I just got back from Prague. I’ve been looking into the Cabal to alleviate the strain between you and Liz.”
The ‘concierge of crime’ tutted and shook his head disappointedly, “(Y/n) I told you-”
“No.” You interrupted. “You were shot and almost bled to death so I’m not hearing some long-winded story on how dangerous it is.”
Reddington might have been in rehab but it didn’t stop him from glaring at you. “It’s not a story if there’s a literal target on your back.”
Leaning forward, you picked up the bottle red wine and uncorked it with a small shrug before pouring yourself a glass of the alcoholic beverage. “Honestly, you really shouldn’t be complaining about me having your back when I’m the one with the leads.” You shot the man a wink and took a sip knowing that he wouldn’t refuse your help now that you had revealed your cards.
Pairings: Reader x Donald Ressler (implied), Reader x Raymond Reddington (platonic)
Warnings: Mention of injury.
Author note: Happy Holidays! We’ve reached the end of this series!
Mini-Series Complete.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7
The drive to the unregistered farmhouse was filled with speed as Dembe was instructed to get there as fast as possible. Several rules were broken but Ressler hardly had a mind to reprimand Reddington over it as his own went into a kind of overdrive, blaming himself for what had happened.
“This was my fault. I should never have left their side.” He said and caught the attention of the criminal informant sitting to his side who had just loaded his sidearm.
“(Y/n) spilled a drink over you, Donald. They didn’t want you by their side.” He explained to the clearly troubled agent before looking out the window scanning the shrubbery that they passed.
Ressler fell silent at the comment and so did Reddington until they turned onto next stretch of road. He glanced over at the blonde and noticed the way that he was nervously drumming his fingers along his grey pants.
Looking back ahead, Reddington shook his head. “I knew this would happen.” He commented almost with disappointment.
Ressler turned in his seat with a scowl that he had reserved for the man. “You knew that (Y/n) would be taken?”
“No, that was an oversight on my part.” Reddington dismissed with a small wave. “I was talking about you - I knew that it was only a matter of time before you started falling for them.”
Ressler opened his mouth to deny the accusation but Reddington raised his hand to silence the words before they escaped. “I’ll save you the effort by telling you that it’s been painfully obvious to everyone - and yes, even Harold.”
There was a scoff to his side as Ressler tilted his head, “I suppose that you’re going to tell me to stay away?”
“Good heavens no! Interfering in (Y/n)’s relationships has never boded well for me in the past but after this ordeal, they’ll lean on you and you’re a far lesser of many evils.”
The car halted to a silent stop, rocking them out of their conversation as Dembe scanned the area from the drivers seat.
“Raymond. The house is two miles east of here.”
Ressler pulled off his seatbelt and jumped out of the car as Reddington quickly followed. Both men studied the scene before pulling out their weapons and carefully walking into the dense and dry woodland. Reddington had planned to sneak onto the premises before Javier was warned and had the chance to move his leverage to another location.
Snap.
Reddington whipped his head in the agents direction with a bewildered look but Ressler frowned in response.
“That wasn’t me.” He whispered almost inaudibly.
There was the sound of another twig breaking and both men froze to pinpoint the location before raising their weapons to their right. There was an approaching figure dressed in clothes that they had seen two days ago – (Y/n).
You looked up at the two men, weapons still pointed at your chest, each with a set of wide eyes. They appeared to have been prepared to storm through armed guards but were stunned silent at your appearance.
“You took your time.” You huffed, clutching your wrist. A grimace flashed across your face from a hidden injury in your leg and Ressler rushed over, wrapping his arm around your torso to help alleviate the pain.
Thankful for the assistance, you leaned against him.
“It was all a set up.” You quickly began to explain how Javier revealed himself to have masterminded the thieving of Reddington’s prized painting to lure the man out. “He knew that you’d reach out to strike a deal with the Maratoni’s - and you did.”
Reddington approached slowly and frowned at your condition - bruises littered the skin, blood stained trails down the sides of your face, you had been battered and yet managed to claw your way out of hell.
“Hey, are you listening to me?” Your voice pulled him out of the trance. You had seen the familiar look on his face before and while you appreciated his concern, you needed him to understand that Javier had grown clever over the years just to set an elaborate trap.
Reddington nodded sombrely. “This ends today.” He replied and turned to Ressler. “Donald, take the car and get (Y/n) to a hospital. I’ll be in touch.”
As Ressler began to guide you to the vehicle despite your obvious protests, Reddington nodded at Dembe, signalling him to follow. You had suffered twice at the hands of the same man and he refused to take the chance of it happening again.
Pairings: Reader x Donald Ressler (implied), Reader x Raymond Reddington (platonic)
Warnings: None.
Summary: New case - new danger.
Mini-Series Complete.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7
It was a matter of great importance to Raymond Reddington. Such great import that he needed to involve the skills of you, Dembe and the Task Force. His plans for the latter were already underway as he had asked them to look into the recent criminal family on his Blacklist.
The Maratoni family.
Reddington and you stood on the floor briefing the team on the plan. Aram had already pulled up the images and family tree from what was available across the database.
“Meet the Maratoni’s.” Reddington introduced. “They’ve become active in the last two days with their procurement of priceless art pieces which also means that their underground business of illegal weapons trade has also kicked back up.”
The team studied the faces intently on the screens.
“That’s one hell of a family.” Aram noted. You walked over to him and passed a thumb drive. He inserted it onto his computer and the family tree extended on the large screens - making the job more complicated.
“They run off black money and the deluded notion that they’re untouchable.” You added.
There was a scoff from behind and you heard Ressler’s voice. “Like you?”
You whipped back and sent him a scowl. The exchange went unnoticed by the rest of the team and Red continued the brief, turning to the people in the room.
“Is no one curious as to why they’re on my radar?” He wondered, clearly looking for some kind of attention which made you roll your eyes. Liz, tired of the charade, crossed her arms and asked the question that he wanted to hear.
“We’ll bite. How did they catch your attention?”
“My beloved, and quite frankly expensively procured, painting of the Meguro River in the prime of blooming cherry trees was stolen.” Reddington told them rather annoyed with the matter.
Harold, who had been standing to the side, frowned. “How is this related to-?”
“They sent their youngest son Gerald to my home in Santa Monica. He tripped the security feeds.” Reddington addressed the man before he could finish the question.
“So is this about the painting or the illegal trade?” Liz wasn’t quite clear on Red’s motive.
“Both, Lizzy. In any case, I’m setting up a meeting with Mr and Mrs Maratoni tonight, I think they’d like to know.”
“That’s blackmail.” Samar frowned and you stepped forward with some folders and placed them on the desk.
“It’s leverage. We’re prepared to cut a deal, so they get the painting and footage in exchange for giving up their manufacturer.”
“So the Maratoni’s are the middlemen, acquiring the weapons and then selling them here.” Samar realised.
You nodded. “Yes. There’s a new player who’s importing their crap and we need to find out who it is. Stop the supplier...”
“...stop the trade.”
The agents huddled around the stack of papers that you gifted. It was a list of known buyers of the Maratoni’s. Reddington turned to Harold and smiled.
“I also need to poach one of your agents, Harold. There’s a lead to pursue and I need someone who isn’t from the underworld scene.”
