#mozzie x neal

[mozart-the-bear]

Neal knocks on the door, announcing that he is 'room service'. Peter answers the door wearing a cuddly robe. Look at Neal, checking out Peter and smiling. Whew. Maybe that was too much for Neal to handle at the moment. ;)

[snidhy]

The culpur spies episode (S04E06) was honestly just really fun! We have a murder, a con, a lost treasure, AND AN ACTIVE SPY GROUP??? What more do we need???

[allofmytoxicity]

White Collar Masterlist

Read this to find out who else I write for, and requests are open!

Not what you were looking for? Go back!

Pretty Slowly (Neal Caffrey x reader and Spencer Reid x ex!reader) - It's been five years since you left D.C., so what happens when your past comes back to haunt you.

Someone To Lose - Neal nearly risks his freedom once again, this time though, he risks you as well.

Read this to find out who else I write for, and requests are open!

Not what you were looking for? Go back!

[ansop]

Started rewatching White Collar last night, it’s weird how much serotonin this show is giving me.

Love the humor. Love the dynamic between Neal and Peter. Love how brilliant Neal is.

Seeing Willie Garson made me a little sad, but watching his awesome performances honors his memory :)

[coppertophomegurl]

1 ticket to Oppenheimer please / 1 ticket to Barbie please

[r1ver-6]

I have a White Collar fic in the works right now. It’s an amalgamation of scenes I’ve added to or changed as I’ve watched the show for the first time. The first two chapters are up and I’ll be updating everyday until I finish the show or catch up to what I’ve written!

[sonufabitchhhhh]

You Were My Oppressor, But Now You Are My Handler

- Matthew Keller x Reader (White Collar)

Chapter 1: The Best First Impressions, the Worst of Intentions

Masterlist

Y/n walked out of the elevator that morning with an air of confidence that was only slightly faked, Matthew Keller right on her heals. Y/n knew she needed Keller to know that she was in charge and that he wouldn't be able to pull a fast one on her, so she let her slight insecurities about being his handler slip to the back of her mind.

It was a small comfort to her to see that Keller also seemed a little unsure in his new environment; even if he hid it well, y/n could see he was a little insecure too.

He seemed to relax, however, upon seeing Neal. He stalked over to Neal's desk with a grin, heading over to make some biting remark, no doubt. "So Caffrey, not the only criminal in the feds domain anymore... must be killing you to see me here!"

Seeing the stony look on Neal's face, y/n stepped in before the situation escalated. "Keller! My office! You're here to help, not torment Neal." She spoke in a commanding tone, and walked off towards her office, not waiting to see if he was following. Sure enough though, he was trailing along behind her with a dragged out sigh.

-

After an hour or so of pouring over y/n's latest case, Keller had proven himself to be quite useful, providing insight and information that gave them a new perspective on the case.

Keller seemed genuinely interested in helping, and y/n recalled Peter and Neal's advise. Was Keller as interested as he seemed, or was he working some angle that y/n couldn't see yet? So far he'd been patient, keen to learn the ropes, and had given good input - but was it all just a cover for an ulterior motive?

She decided that if Keller was truly attempting to reform, he'd prove himself over time, not in a day. As Peter said, 'guilty until proven innocent'.

"Hey, I think I found that pattern you were looking for in that Sturges case!" Keller looked up from his desk as y/n passed by, bright eyed and apparently eager to please. Neal sat a desk over and also seemed cautious about Keller's behaviour.

"Huh. Nice work Keller. You ready to go see what Sturges has to stay?" Y/n asked, pleasant enough but not overly sweet; she didn't want to praise him too much and let him think he's got it easy.

Keller nodded and the two headed out the building to her car, getting ready to interrogate their suspect.

-

On the way to their suspect's home, y/n and Keller were quiet. It wasn't a comfortable silence though. It was the kind where both were itching to say something just to end the suffocating lack of conversation, and yet neither knew what to say.

They didn't know each other well. In fact, they'd only met once before. Y/n had been on the task force that had put Keller in prison, but they hadn't actually met during that instance. They did, however, meet a week ago - y/n had visited Keller in prison to talk to him about being his handler and all that their relationship would entail.

It was a short meeting, and now that they're spending more time together, they were at a loss on what to talk about.

"So, uhh-,"

"What's-,"

Both seemingly had the same idea and started to speak at the same time. A little flustered, and laughing awkwardly, they tried to start again.

"No, no, you go first!" Keller insisted despite y/n's protests.

"Oh, I was just going to ask how you're liking your first day on the job! Y'know, enjoying being out of prison?" Y/n asked hesitantly. She didn't want to bring up a potentially sore topic, and was still a little suspicious about Keller being so complacent thus far.

"Oh, it's nice. I'm a free- well, semi-free man! Gotta like that." He answered simply, and the silence became tangible again. After another beat of awkward silence, he continued. "Y'know, I was just gonna say, it's not too bad being with the feds. I mean, it could be worse at least."

"Yeah. Well that's good! I'm glad you're settling in a bit."

Both let the silence sink in again, this time resigning to let it stew until it was time to leave the car. It seemed the pair had a lot to learn about each other, and we're far from partners yet. They'd get there though.

-

A/N: so, this is the first official chapter! I hope you're enjoying the story so far, this part was mostly focused on what y/n and Keller's relationship is currently - which is to say it isn't much of a relationship yet! Anyway, hope you're enjoying, let me know any story suggestions in the comments!

Hope you have a great day/night,

~ SonofaBeach

[nicedeviledhamrightthere]

a little indulgence

Summary: Neal is having a hard time adapting to life on Cape Verde until someone from the past shows up and changes his perspective.

Words: 3.9k

Pairing: Neal Caffrey/Gordon Taylor

Warnings: some light angst & some non-explicit sex

Notes: Me going hog wild over a rare pair? Never. (Actually CLASSIC.) Expect more of this pair in the future.

........................................................................................................................

“Neal, you’re wilting.”

“I’m what?” Neal asked, draped over the chaise with a dry martini and an Agatha Christie book left behind by the previous occupants of the house. In the last few days he'd already exhausted the Louis L'Amour books, devouring them while drinking more coffee and alcohol than water. He squinted up into the sunlight at the blurred shadow that was vaguely Mozzie shaped. His eyes had always been sensitive to sunlight and the island, as beautiful as it was, made for some difficult days. The weather had so far been so warm, so sunny, so unbearably blue that he found himself lounging inside more often than out.

He needed sunglasses, prescription sunglasses, and so far he hadn’t managed to acquire them. If he’d had more time to pack he might have grabbed them but going on the run meant grabbing the bare essentials and acquiring the rest on the fly. Well, he found a guy who could get him what he needed without the hassle of an official prescription, but they were taking their sweet time to arrive. Until they did, he took cover in the shade for the harshest part of the day thus leading Mozzie to the conclusion that he was wilting, he supposed.

“Wilting. You’ve been laying around listlessly, lacking energy, hardly going outside...you know. Wasting away. Or you’ve become a vampire without my knowledge.”

“A vampire, Moz? Really? Are you twelve?”

“Well, you do spend all day inside and only venture out at night.” Mozzie shook his head and sighed, acquiescing to the moment. He waved his hands around, a gesture that made it appear he was pulling words right out of the air around his head. The sight of it made Neal smile. “Okay, maybe not a vampire, but you know what I mean. You’ve been hiding away in here when you should be out there...at least, out there on the balcony, or in the pool, maybe not out there out there...but...you’re going to get scurvy.”

“A vampire with scurvy? I’m relaxing, Moz,” Neal fired back, sipping his martini lazily. “It’s been a difficult transition, I need some time. And I thought that was what I was supposed to do in retirement.”

“Well, yes, you should relax but this…” he gestured to the messy art supplies lying around unused, the mostly blank canvasses and half finished forgeries. It was an exercise in futility, trying to get Neal to see this his way. “...doesn’t seem like you. You never lay around this much even when you’re sick. Why aren’t you painting?”

“I haven’t been inspired.”

“See? Wilting. Like a sad, neglected houseplant. Oh god, have I been neglecting you Neal?”

“First of all, I’m not a houseplant. And second of all...”

“Please,” Mozzie said, softening his tone. “Neal you’re starting to scare me. Are you so unhappy here?”

“No Moz. I’m not unhappy, I just need some time to...catch up.”

Mozzie made a soft noise of discontent, not bothering to hide his concern as he padded away in his bare feet to pour himself a drink. Neal was irritated, coming to terms with everything, and all Mozzie wanted was to have a good time with his best friend. They were retired, this was their life now. One last big score and they were out of the game. It was always the dream, so they said, but it felt a little more like a nightmare at the moment. He’d been so close to freedom, so close he could taste it, and now he was on the run again. Back where he began like the last few years didn’t mean anything.

Like his time in prison meant nothing. Like his time with the FBI meant nothing. He could never show up on Peter’s doorstep to talk again, he could never listen to June’s stories again or help Elizabeth with a tasting or play cat and mouse with Sara. None of it mattered because here he was on the run again. As beautiful as this place was, as close to paradise as it was ever going to get, it wasn’t easy to come to grips with.

Part of it was that Neal didn’t want to be out of the game yet. He wanted to be in New York with Peter and El and he wanted to help solve crimes, and he wanted to have his skills put to use.

He’d wanted that commutation so bad it hurt.

And part of him had even thought maybe he’d fly to Paris with Mozzie that summer and do a job with Gordon Taylor because why not? He would be a free man. No more anklet. Sure, there was risk involved in that, he would never get another deal from the FBI if he was caught but the temptation...it was

Well he didn’t have the anklet anymore but freedom was still only an illusion. Mozzie wanted him to be up and moving, but he wasn’t allowed to leave their villa. He could wander the grounds, he could be outside, but nowhere that wasn’t exclusively privately theirs. For now, Mozzie kept saying. So no, he had no anklet, but what exactly was the difference?

“I’m going out,” Neal said the next morning over coffee. He wasn’t asking, he was telling. What Mozzie said the day before had eaten at him all night to the point that he could hardly sleep, and Neal Caffrey was not a man who liked to lose sleep. He had to do something to regain some sense of himself. Or rather, he had to figure out who James Maine was. It was time to put some real effort into reinvention.

“Where are you going?”

“I want to see the town.”

“Neal I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“You said it yourself, Moz, I’m wilting like a neglected houseplant. I need to get out.”

“Need I remind you that you are on the run from the US government? There’s probably a bounty on your head.”

“I should hope so. If not I’d be insulted.”

“Be careful,” Mozzie said, quietly acquiescing. Neal’s eyes sparked for the first time since they arrived and Mozzie didn’t want to kill that intensity. After all, he’d brought this on himself hadn’t he? Neal looked alive, he had a purpose, and Mozzie couldn’t put too much stock in trying to talk him out of danger. That had never been in the cards. “Don’t go drawing attention to yourself Mr. Maine. Not until the heat dies down. I might be tempted to go after that reward if they come for you.”

“I hope you get it. No one could deserve it more. But you said it yourself...I’ve been wilting. Time to come back to life.”

“I’m rarely wrong.”

“Rarely.”

It was quite a walk from their villa to the town, longer than he’d thought. He’d been hidden away so long now that it had taken on an odd quality in his memory, the trip from the airstrip to their home. Dreamlike almost, and filtered through a layer of tears. He walked slowly along the winding road, stopping every so often to look out at the ocean in all its glory. This ocean was quiet and calm, all bright colors and gentle waves. Nothing like his raging Atlantic and her glorious storms that threw waves at the shore like weapons.

It was early, the sun was barely kissing the sky awake with her perfect juicy colors reflected in the sable sand below. He breathed the briny sea air deep into his lungs and felt it in his bones, crafting James Maine from the salt, from the sound of the sea birds hunting for breakfast, from the colors splashed over the horizon. Reinventing himself. Neal could live at the villa with Mozzie, but only James Maine could enter the town.

He managed to wind his way through town without eyes on him. Whatever the FBI was doing to search for him hadn’t reached this island yet, and he was flooded with relief at that. He found a haberdasher who dealt in handmade goods and ordered himself a hat – a hat for Mr. Maine. He could order any number of custom items, from handmade shirts and pants to ties and even a cape, should Mr. Maine have use for one. Was he a cape guy? Could he be a cape guy? He decided that Mr. Maine lived in white and khaki, tan and beige with a pop of color. An island man. A classic Florida retiree uniform for a young con man. He thought of Michael Caine in Dirty Rotten Scoundrels and for the first time he thought – yes, he could do this. He could make this life work for him.

(x)

“Dobbs is having a party,” Mozzie said as Neal emerged from the pool sliding his sunglasses onto his wet face. They slipped down his nose briefly but he pushed them back up and they stayed put. They had arrived by post the day before and he finally found himself able to leave the dimly lit villa when the sun was overhead. No more squinting, and the resulting sunlight headache would remain at bay– it was the small things.

“A party huh? Sounds fun.”

Watching Neal exit the pool, Mozzie huffed. His grace was both sickening and astounding, Mozzie had never had so much intimate control over his own body. Every muscle seemed at Neal’s very beck and call, every movement crafted by an artist. That Neal should choose him for what amounted to a life partner when he could have his pick of pretty much anyone on the planet had never been lost on him. He liked to think he brought plenty of the table himself, it wasn’t all about being chiseled by the gods. “I think you should stay here.”

“I want to go.”

“It’s too soon for you to go into a place like that. The town is one thing, but that party will be crawling with criminals. The seediest shadow people the island can cough up. People who would turn you in in a heartbeat.”

“I’ll be careful. I’ll pay close attention to my surroundings, promise. I need to go.”

“This party is where Dobbs pays everyone off, okay? It’s how we stay safe. So the guests...they’re all criminals.”

“Same as us, Moz.”

“True, but what I mean is...they’ll sell you downriver in a heartbeat and they’re probably all carrying weapons. You need to be careful.”

In spite of Mozzie’s best advice and misgivings, Neal was adamant that he needed to attend the party. He promised he would keep a low profile, that he would avoid introducing himself or making a scene, that he would be a casual observer and nothing more. That wasn’t exactly in his nature, and people rarely allowed him that luxury, but he went in with the best of intentions. Mozzie couldn’t fault him for trying.

He’d always been good at reinventing himself, great at it even, but he’d never been good at blending in. At not being the center of attention was almost impossible. Some might point out his good looks, and of course Mozzie wouldn’t disagree on that front, but he would argue it was something that came from inside of him. Something magnetic that couldn’t be tamped down. Neal was made of charisma, and his eyes were made of bright blue flame, people simply couldn’t help being drawn in.

You either loved him or you hated him, but regardless which it was, your feelings were powerful. Mozzie sometimes thought he was the only one who saw the sadness there. Maybe that was why Neal kept him around, he was the only one who saw through all of the godlike gifts, all of that furious chemistry and magnetism to the damaged foundation and the tender heart.

“Gin,” Neal said at the bar with an easy smile. “Whatever you make best. And make it strong.”

“Rough day?”

“Just looking for a good time.”

Before the bar tender could reply, he felt someone enter his periphery, stopping short in his blind spot. It was evening and the twinkle lights cast a shimmery dancing glow over the open patio, but it was the shadows he felt most compelled by. They seemed to have a life of their own. The man behind him gave off an intoxicating scent of verbena and lemons underscored cinnamon. Spicy and citrusy and warm. “Don’t...turn around…” came a voice attached to the man pressed a little too close. Neal felt the skin prickle on the back of his neck. He knew that voice. It had played over a million times in his head since the last time they saw one another. The only thing he could think was that damn it all, Mozzie was right. His first night out and he’d already been made. “Meet at your place in twenty minutes.”

It had all of the makings of a trap, but what was he going to do? Say no? He could never say no to that voice. That much had been proven not long ago. He took his drink, sipped it once for the bar tender so he knew it met with his approval, and made a beeline for Mozzie who was mingling with a group of caterers. Probably gathering intel for something Neal wouldn’t ask about. It didn’t matter, that was Mozzie business. He had Neal business to attend to.

“Hey Moz, I’ve got a bit of a headache and the gin isn’t helping. I think I’m going to go home and lay down.”

“A headache?” Mozzie asked, suspicious. Neal got headaches frequently, his eyes were overly sensitive and almost always led to trouble but he seemed fine. He hadn’t complained all day. Granted, he almost never said a word, but Mozzie liked to think he knew Neal well enough to see through the facade. He’d seen nothing of the sort.

“Yeah. I’ll be okay, I just need to sleep it off. Have fun Moz. If you see Dobbs, tell him thanks for a great party.”

He knew how long it would take to get back to their place, and he’d be cutting it close to make it in twenty minutes on foot but he couldn’t chance it any other way. He cut through alleyways and managed to get down to the beach for a straight shot. Walking briskly along the water line, he felt peaceful, leaving his quickened footprints in the sand only long enough for the waves to hungrily reclaim them for the sea. Whatever this rendezvous was, he no longer felt any foreboding, only excitement.

Gordon Taylor wouldn’t turn him in. He didn’t need any reward money. Would he be upset enough about Neal’s time with the FBI to hand him over the way Neal had nearly done with him? He didn’t think so, but if he did...well Neal honestly couldn’t think of anything more justified. He would go down for that.

He took off his loafers and walked barefoot in the sand, relishing the feel of the waves lapping at his feet. If he was going to back to prison tonight, he would enjoy this last breath of freedom, the feel of water on his skin and sand between his toes. It was worth it, all of it. He’d had fun. Even if he’d been wilting, he’d enjoyed doing it.

“You came,” Gordon said, lounging with his feet dangling in the pool with a feline grin. Beside him was a bottle of beer and his shoes, so neatly cast aside. He looked every bit like he owned the place. There was no one else in sight. Neal stopped short, just at the edge of the gate, and couldn’t help smiling. Gordon was every bit as gorgeous as he remembered, even in the low glimmering light cast by their few security lights. Neal didn’t want them, Mozzie insisted.

“I do live here.”

“So I gather. Nice place. No extradition, incredible view, a new name...I take it the commutation didn’t go as you’d hoped.”

“Not even close.” He couldn’t mask the hurt in his voice, and Gordon picked up on it immediately. He pivoted away from the humor and landed right in a heaping puddle of sincerity.

“Well I’m truly sorry about that. I would have liked to get a chance to work with you.”

“Who says you can’t now?”

“Too much risk. For both of us. But that doesn’t mean we can’t still have ourselves some fun.”

Neal knew where this was headed, and he also knew he hadn’t had enough gin to get there. Not that Gordon didn’t do everything in the world for him, that the sight of him didn’t ignite every cell in his body with desire, but the island had done something to his inhibition and worse, his confidence. He was still crushed by the freedom dangled and stolen. Kramer would never see it as theft, but that was exactly what it was. So Neal padded in his sandy bare feet toward the outdoor bar and popped open a bottle of champagne. Mozzie might be upset later, but he thought the trip to forgiveness was worth it.

“Cheers,” Neal said, handing Gordon a flute of bubbly. “To new beginnings.”

“Is that what this is?” Gordon asked, setting the glass down beside his empty beer. “Looks to me like it’s still more of an ending.”

“What’s the difference?”

“You know very well what the difference is, Caffrey. Don’t try to play games with me. I’ve been around long enough to know how bad it hurts to try your hardest and still lose.”

“Gordon Taylor doesn’t lose.”

“Don’t be so sure of that.”

Neal stared down into his own glass, the bubbles popping and sending bright sparks up his nose. He didn’t feel much like drinking it either. Instead, he pivoted and turned the attention on Gordon.

“What are you doing here anyway?”

“I have a few contacts that live on the island. Dobbs always invites me to his parties. I don’t usually turn up, they’re a bit dull for my taste, but I’m glad I did tonight.”

“Me too,” Neal replied, finally relaxing. He’d been pretending to be relaxed the entire time they were on the island, but this was the first time he actually felt it. With a smile, he set his hat down on the table beside his drink and began undressing before jumping into the pool. One graceful dive, and Gordon followed after without needing an invitation. When they found their naked bodies meeting in the middle of the warm water, Gordon slipped his arms around Neal’s waist and kissed chlorine soaked lips. Neal shivered and smiled, forehead to forehead, knowing that whatever questions he might still have liked to ask would no longer be a good use of his time.

Instead, he kissed Gordon back, bobbing effortlessly in the water. His skin was flush with goosebumps though the water was warm, and he lost himself in the night sky reflected in Gordon’s dark eyes. It was easy to enjoy, having Gordon’s attention entirely on him in a way that felt almost like magic. The only other person on the island who knew him from the life he’d left, who knew who and what he was, who actually saw him. He wasn’t used to being seen.

“Shall we take this inside?” Gordon asked. “Perhaps away from the floodlights?” Neal had been more than happy to be wherever Gordon wanted, and if he wanted to move inside then they would leave a trail of chlorine puddles behind them as they slipped naked from the pool up to Neal’s bed.

There was a reason the house had only tile floors.

From there it was even easier. They fell into the bed and had sex in Neal’s warm sheets, sweaty and smiling, a tangle of limbs and deep guttural sounds. And when they finished, when they were a mess of twitching muscles and deep, heavy breathing, Gordon turned and pressed his forehead tenderly to Neal’s temple.

“Would you mind telling me who it is I’ve just had the pleasure of sharing a bed with?”

“James Maine,” Neal replied cautiously, afraid to sink back into someone else. He’d always preferred being Neal Caffrey, and this was something he wanted to keep just for Neal. The fracturing of his personalities had always been carefully maintained and he was blurring lines right now that shouldn’t be blurred. Gordon smiled and traced one finger along the delicate ridge of Neal’s collar bone, down his sternum.

“Good to make your acquaintance, James. May I call on you again?”

“So formal.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Yes. You may. But you have to call me Neal.” He couldn’t share, not this. It meant too much. The feel of Gordon Taylor was almost like his anklet, securing him to his place, giving him back some semblance of his own life. This couldn’t belong to James Maine.

“Good.” Gordon slipped out of the bed and got himself dressed quickly while Neal took his time. The pool rippled in the breeze and both of them thought again of jumping in, being naked beneath the great starry sky and her infinite depths. Neal wondered if she could keep a secret. “I like Neal better anyway.”

Gordon brushed past Mozzie on his way out with a wink and a nod, not stopping for chit chat this time though he liked Mozzie very much. He didn’t often stay the night, it wasn’t quite his thing. That would kill some of the mystery – imagine someone knowing that he snored or had morning breath? No, he left before any of that. Always leave them wanting more.

Mozzie could do nothing but sigh as he watched Gordon leave, because of course Gordon Taylor had shown up and of course he’d ended up at their place with Neal. Very likely in Neal’s bed. He wasn’t a fool. Neal loved beautiful things and this was no exception.

“Headache, huh?”

“Did I say that?” He grinned and knew that he shouldn’t argue. The headache bit wasn’t far off, he’d had one since they landed but for the first time...he was free and clear. The ruse wouldn’t hold up. And he didn’t want to lie to Moz, he wanted Moz to share his joy.

“Yes. You did. I don’t have to tell you how dangerous what you’re doing is…”

“It’s fine Moz. It’s Gordon Taylor.”

“Yeah...well…”

“You’re just jealous.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

Mozzie huffed indignantly and drank not only Neal’s still full flute of lukewarm champagne, but Gordon’s too. Neal considered it a small miracle that he didn’t complain about letting it go to waste, instead he just grabbed what remained of the bottle in one hand and conceded to Neal’s argument.

“Fine. A little. Not that I want to...you know...but it’s Gordon Taylor. Are you happy now?”

Neal grinned a little too wide and even if Mozzie couldn’t exactly see the full extent of it in the dark, he knew it was infuriating. He thought perhaps they both felt the same – whether they wanted to take him to bed or live his life, it didn’t matter much. They both felt it. “Yep. Very happy.”

“Go to bed, Neal.” Mozzie paused, a smirk softening his own features. “Alone.”

“Nite Moz.”

[asteriskemily]

White Collar x DC this

DC x Danny Phantom that

Fuck It! Cut Out The Middle Man! White Collar x Danny Phantom!!!

You think Danny Fenton wouldn’t go on the run from [insert problem here] and accidentally find himself phasing through the Louvre? And well if he wants to grab a souvenir on his way out, who can blame him? St. George and The Dragon, don’t mind if I do. And if this just keeps happening, well he could make a career out of this. He can get into any vault and he’s gotten pretty darn good at lying over the past few years. Meet Danny….Brooks. Yeah Danny Brooks (or George Devoure, or Nick Halden, or Neal Caffrey)

You think Danielle “Elle” Phantom wouldn’t be going about her business traveling the world and decide to settle down in New York for a bit? Well oh no now there’s an FBI agent questioning her. And Oh Shit now he’s looking into her (entirely fabricated) background. And OH FUCK… he asked her out? Well, might as well and oops now they’re married, wonder how she’s gonna explain the whole half-dead clone thing.

Give Me ghosts fucking up fbi ops, Give Me June Ellington being an Old Friend of Ida Manson, Give Me Sam and Tucker trading who plays the roll of Kate, Give Me Neal!Danny and Peter!Val, Give Me Danny conning his way into a fancy party and Vlad is there! GIVE ME MOZZIES A LITERAL GHOST!!!

[suburbonlegends]

Make shift prompt game: what situation are you going to throw Neal in next?

Lol I love putting the man in a situation

Currently I'm working on a Peter x Neal thing where Neal is underdressed for the cold/snow and Peter dotes on him, and then another seperate ship thing of Neal having a nightmare and then being doted on. Clearly whumptober has taken it's toll and now I'm onto Fluff-ember lmao.

Also an idea that I almost don't want to talk about too much because I'm so excited about it, but I'm currently outlining a (hopefully) longer fic that I'll publish in December. It won't be holiday themed but I'm hoping the vibes will match. A brief overlook of it would be Depressed/Anxious Neal, Peter and Mozzie maybe teaming up to pull something over the FBI, and a lack of suits 👀

[silbrith]

Music Monday

Thanks for the tag @penna-nomen!

Rules: Choose a few fics you wrote that were inspired by a song - not just with song lyrics in title - and share the tune and the link to the fics. If anyone wants to guess which goes with which go for it in comments or tags!

Like Kate, I've always loved the classics. I include both popular and classic music in my stories. Whittling down the list to a few favorites is a daunting task, but here goes —

The Woman in Blue (Caffrey Conversation). Klaus Mansfeld, a friend/enemy is linked to Franz Schubert, contrasting with Neal's love for rock music. In later stories, the opposites theme is expanded to include Klaus's evil brother Rolf who is tied to Rachmaninoff.

In The Queen's Jewels (Caffrey Conversation), Neal is framed for a crime he didn't commit. Bound for Botany Bay (John Doyle) and The Chain (Fleetwood Mac) play in his head. They're later replaced by The Rising (Bruce Springsteen). The White Collar team celebrates his name being cleared with a CD of songs, including Footloose, Born to Run, Unchained Melodies, and Born Free.

Nocturne in Black and Gold (Caffrey Conversation): Neal's theme songs are Sounds of Silence (Simon & Garfunkel) and Nara (E.S. Posthumus). Neal associates heist planning with Rachmaninoff's Folia Variations. Peter uses Bridge over Troubled Water (Simon & Garfunkel) to pull Neal out of a dark place and then scores a double-play by having it featured in Cinereous Skies in the meta series Arkham Files. At the Zoo (Simon & Garfunkel) provides a lighthearted moment. Neal and Sara make a game out of Mockingbird (Carly Simon & James Taylor). Both songs are also included in Cinereous Skies.

Arkham Files (set in the 1970s): A Little Help from My Friends, Long Time Gone, and Woodstock with its line about stardust, are plot elements in The Locked Room.

Crossed Lines (Caffrey Conversation x Supernatural): In Whispers in the Night, Peter reveals that Dean Winchester isn’t the only one into classic rock. Songs include Hot Blooded (Foreigner), Bad to the Bone (George Thorogood & The Destroyers), and Sisters Are Doin' It for Themselves (Eurythmics). When Dean, Mozzie, and Peter are afflicted with a dork curse, they belt out Rawhide and Happy Trails at a diner.

Dark Rabbit (Crossed Lines): Angela Caffrey is mesmerized by a dulcimer-playing vampire. Inspiration: The Kiss, played on the dulcimer by Scott Williams.

Six-Crossed Knot (All Souls Trilogy fandom): a series about Jack Blackfriars—an Elizabethan musician and artist turned vampire. Inspiration for Jack: Cymbeline (Loreena McKennitt). Jack's theme song, Touch Me Lightly (Tobias Hume), was featured in Walking Shadows. Leonard Shoreditch's customized theme song It Was a Lover and His Lad is in Fretwork. Nothing Else Matters (Apocalyptica) inspired Tangled Knots.

Can I squeeze in one more series? Reflections (The Supremes) is the inspiration for Sedlow Chronicles (original sci-fi fantasy). That song and People Are Strange (The Doors) are featured in the second story Shadows of Crellos.

[ansop]

I just finished season 4 of my White Collar rewatch. Before that finale, I had a deep hate for James, but I had forgotten how bad of a person he actually is. Guess my subconscious never forgot.

James never loved his son. If he did, he would never have taken that money 30 years ago. If he did, he wouldn't have conned him and everyone else. If he did, he would turn himself in. He threatened to physically harm Neal, and that fear and pain in Neal's eyes tells you all you need to know.

I’m glad Neal has a chosen family, no matter where he is.

As Neal puts it: “Family doesn’t show up on your doorstep after 30 years. They’re the ones who’ve been there when you need them.”

[sonufabitchhhhh]

You Were My Oppressor, But Now You Are My Handler

- Matthew Keller x Reader (White Collar)

Prologue

Masterlist

-

Agent y/n s/n walked out of Hughs' office, contemplating a very life changing decision. To most people, it wouldn't seem so impactful, but after witnessing how Peter's life changed after taking on consultant Neal Caffrey, y/n knew it was a big deal. It was with that thought that y/n decided to go talk to Peter before making any final decisions.

"Hey Peter, can I talk to you in your office please?" Y/n asked without giving anything away to idle ears. "And Neal, you can come too, if you don't mind." Peter gestured towards his office, and made towards it, Caffrey seeming more than eager to follow and be in the loop.

"Y/n, why don't you sit down." Peter started. "So, what's all this about?"

"Well, I've been made an offer," both men were leaned in awaiting to hear what y/n had to say, "to be Matthew Keller's handler as he works as a consultant for the F.B.I."

Neal was slack jawed, shocked that Keller was getting out of prison so easy; sure it's the same treatment Neal himself has had, but Keller! Really?!

Peter was a lot calmer, only slightly less surprised that Keller was getting this offer. Neal had proven himself to be such an asset to the F.B.I. it's no surprise the bureau would jump for joy at the thought of having two of them under their belt.

But Peter also knew that a C.I. was a lot of work. And between his and Neal's gut, he trusted Keller a lot less than he trusted Neal.

"I should warn you y/n, having a consultant is a lot of responsibility." Peter supplied, wanting to make sure he gave the facts straight. "Now that's not to say you can't handle it, I'm sure you're more than capable, but these guys... they're slippery. And Keller..."

"He's untrustworthy." Neal finished.

Peter continued on. "If you feel willing to take Keller on, I say go for it! But make sure you have a constant eye on him. Don't trust him. At least not right away. He may give you a reason to trust him in time, but in the beginning it's best to assume guilty until proven innocent."

"Peter's right." Neal didn't seem happy about the prospect of Keller cutting a deal, but seemed willing to help advise y/n all the same. "By the sounds of it, the bureau's got their heart set on Keller, so if not you, someone else will take him on. Y/n, if you become Keller's handler, you'll at least have me around to ask about him - I've known Keller a long time, and I know what he's like. And I'm willing to sell him out, we're not exactly friends."

Y/n contemplated their words, thinking long and hard about the implications of being Keller's handler.

"Guess I better go tell Hughs the good news!" Y/n stood up smiling. On her way out the door, y/n stopped and added, "Oh, and Caffrey? I hope you make friends with Keller eventually, you'll be seeing a lot more of him!"

-

A/N: hey, so this is the first part to my Keller x Reader story! It's sad that there's not more fics for him, I'm a sucker for the villains. Anyway, I hope you like this, and if you have any suggestions for the story, lmk in the comments!

P.s. the title is a lyric by Muse from a song called The Handler, just thought I'd let you know!

Hope you have a great day/night,

~ SonofaBeach

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

A CI May Be Clever But That Doesn't Mean They're Honest

by Amateum

The Justice League needs a team of agents specializing in white collar crime to help take down Lex Luthor once and for all. A competent team who are above reproach, with an excellent arrest record, clean backgrounds, and aren’t afraid to stand against a supervillain. Dick knows just the people for the job.

Now he just needs to keep the fact that he used to be their very own Criminal Informant, Neal Caffrey, from Peter, Diana, and Jones while they work on building the case against Luthor. But he’d already successfully lied to the team for two years, and he’s a Bat with years of undercover experience to boot. This should be a cakewalk, right?

Right.

 July 10th: Justice League Visits White Collar

Words: 3952, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Series: Part 1 of WC x DC Week 2023

Fandoms: DCU, Nightwing (Comics), Forever Evil (Comics), White Collar (TV 2009)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen

Characters: Dick Grayson, Peter Burke, Lex Luthor, Diana Berrigan, Clinton Jones, Elizabeth Burke (White Collar), Mozzie (White Collar), Bruce Wayne, Justice League (DCU), Reese Hughes

Relationships: Peter Burke & Dick Grayson, Diana Berrigan & Peter Burke, Peter Burke & Clinton Jones, Diana Berrigan & Peter Burke & Neal Caffrey & Clinton Jones, Elizabeth Burke/Peter Burke, Dick Grayson & Mozzie (White Collar), Elizabeth Burke & Mozzie (White Collar)

Additional Tags: Neal Caffrey and Dick Grayson are the Same Person, (past) - Freeform, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Angst, Grief/Mourning, over someone who's not actually dead, so I'm not tagging it mcd, Fake Character Death, Secret Identity, Identity Porn, Identity Reveal, Post-Spyral, Post-White Collar (TV 2009), Lex Luthor (Derogatory), Lex Luthor Being an Asshole, Lex Luthor is a walking bad guy trope, Peter Burke is competent actually, Peter Burke is a Good Friend, inaccurate legal procedures, I don't know how the law works, do ur taxes kids, WCDC_Week_2023, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/48485068

[lapseinart]

Glee x White Collar x Chuck Story Background

Bryce and Neal are Blaine’s older brothers. Larkin is the mom’s fake maiden name. Caffrey is her real maiden name. Neal was born Neal; Bryce was born Bryce. Under WITSEC, Neal went by Cooper; Bryce went by Danny. Bryce legally changed his name back from Daniel to Bryce. Neal’s name is still technically Cooper Anderson, but he goes by, and uses the legal information of Neal Bennet. Neal legally changed his last name to his mother’s real last name of Caffrey. Therefore, there’s still no information about Neal Caffrey before 18 because he holds two “legal” identities: WITSEC’s Cooper Anderson and the life he lives as Neal Caffrey.

Cooper aka Neal is estranged from their mother but kept in contact with Bryce, and Blaine as a result. He drops out of high school after finding out the truth about his and Bryce’s dad, who is not Blaine’s dad.

Neal, a struggling actor, turns to forgery and cons to help support his brothers, helping Bryce pay for housing, dining, and the stuff that his scholarship doesn’t cover. Chuck has met Cooper as Neal Larkin, and he knows that Neal has a “stage name” Cooper Anderson. Chuck met Blaine once, though he only knows him as Bryce’s little brother Blaine, not that Blaine has the last name Anderson. He knows Neal wants to become an actor, but that he’s also working on the side to help Bryce through college. He does not know Neal’s side-gig is theft and that Neal goes on to become a world-class thief.

Bryce joins the CIA originally as more of an analyst kind of guy to earn money, hoping that Cooper will stop doing shady shit, but joins as a full Agent so Chuck doesn’t have to. His main job description is to be prepared to take the Intersect, and he trains and does many missions is preparation for that role.

Neal is occasionally tapped by Bryce as a criminal contact. He knows Bryce is CIA since Bryce told him when he started as an analyst in the hopes of getting Neal to stop. Neal did not stop. Thus, he was aware when Bryce became a full agent. He’s let Bryce use his forged passports before; everyone else thinks he’s just really good at sneaking into countries and establishing alibis.

Bryce “dies” bc of the CIA. Neal, being friends with Mozzie, 1000% believed it to be fishy and thinks there’s a definite possibility that Bryce is still alive. After all, at this point, Neal has faked his death before. Blaine and the Andersons believe him dead and hold a funeral, but Neal realizes that’s not Bryce’s body. Neal attends as Cooper, and stays in contact with Blaine, though he refuses to talk to his mom.

[cas-kingdom]

Bad Blood

A/N: Set towards the end of season 3. 

Title: Bad Blood

Summary: After Peter discovers Neal stole the ship’s treasure, you’re worried he’ll be mad at you for keeping the secret.

Words: 2310

The problem with loving your brother so much you couldn’t possibly do something to put him in jail, despite your personal opinions, is that it puts you in an awkward position.

You had never had that problem. From the age of three, you’d gone everywhere with Neal. You’d grown up among thieves and criminals, and that’d been all you’d known. Until Neal was caught, and you’d lived a more subdued life for four years, learning things and picking up what it meant to have a normal life. You’d grown your own opinions, stemming from the simplest of things, and slowly come to realise that there was a life outside your brother’s antics.

Maybe that was why Neal hadn’t told you about the treasure. Perhaps he’d thought you might tell Peter. He should have known, though, that you’d never do that. So, more plausibly, maybe he’d simply wanted to keep you safe. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to put you in that kind of position – stuck between him and Peter. He’d been doing that a lot in the year and a bit he’d been out of jail; keeping secrets, only letting you in on what he thought you needed to know. It was a swerve in your relationship, and it was constantly hitting obstacles.

Peter had taken you aside a while after the fire and asked you if Neal had stolen the treasure. You could still remember the flurry of emotions that had hit you then.

“I need to know,” Peter said. His voice was gentle. He was leaning on his forearms, staring at you from his place behind his desk. His eyebrows were raised, and you would have squirmed uncomfortably if you knew what he was talking about.

You sputtered for a moment, glancing down at the floor, before shaking your head and looking back up at him. “Neal?” you asked. “You- you think Neal stole the treasure?” Peter lifted his chin and leaned back against his seat. “I thought it was all lost in the fire.”

Peter sighed. “We did, too,” he said. “But… we found something that leads us to think otherwise.”

Your frown deepened. You turned your head, just about seeing Neal immersed in conversation with Jones. He glanced up for a moment, your eyes meeting, and he gave you a questioning look. You bit the inside of your cheek and turned back around to look at Peter, who was watching you intently.

“I don’t know, Peter,” you said honestly.

Peter nodded. “If you did…” He tilted his head a little. “Would you tell me?”

It wasn’t an interrogative look that he was giving you. He loved you. Every moment he was with you was spent treating you as his own. But that love included protecting you, even from your brother, and he wanted – needed – to be sure that you weren’t withholding anything from him that could put you behind bars, because he knew he’d rather be behind them himself than let you go.

You bit your lip, absently fidgeting with your fingers. You glanced up and shrugged.

Peter nodded slowly. “Alright,” he said. He couldn’t say he hadn’t expected that response. He drew in a deep breath and stood up, rounding the desk. He leant down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “As long as you’re safe, kid. That’s all I ask. Don’t get yourself caught in something I can’t get you out of. And… try get that in your brother’s head, too. You know where I am if you need me.”

Really, it should’ve been obvious to you that Neal had stolen it. You hadn’t wanted it to be – it was for that reason you’d never told Neal that Peter had even asked you about it – but you knew the man better than you knew anyone and anything. If the opportunity was presented, he would grab it up.

You’d cried after overhearing Neal and Mozzie discussing the treasure. They’d been quiet, whispering among themselves, and Neal should have known really that you wouldn’t have been asleep. He’d heard you sob, your pillow over your head, and got up from his chair so fast he’d knocked it over. Eyes wide, heart pumping, mind whirring, he’d slid into the bed beside you. You’d pushed him away, but he’d stayed, he always stayed, and he’d slept with you until morning, your back to him, his hand on your shoulder. You hadn’t talked about it the next day, and you’d been blunt with him since. You figured he’d worried you would tell.

“You have the treasure!”

You could hear Peter’s words. You’d been sat at the table when he’d come in, telling them Elizabeth had been taken, and you’d decided then and there that if Neal didn’t tell him, you would. Thankfully, you hadn’t had to, but the look Peter had given you after that had seared into your brain, and you hadn’t been yourself since. So, the moment Neal had been cleared – officially, anyway – you’d ached to speak to the agent.

“Peter, can we talk?”

It was a Sunday, and you, Mozzie and Neal were at Peter and Elizabeth’s for lunch. There was a sense of normality around Sunday lunch at the Burkes’. A familiarity that you had been terrified you’d lost for a moment back then.

Elizabeth and Neal were sitting outside, the both of them laughing about something or other, and Mozzie was sleeping on the deck chair he’d brought from June’s – nobody was sure why and nobody had bothered to ask. He was Mozzie, after all. You had been putting the plates away, Satchmo your shadow, and Peter had followed close behind, that smile on his face which told you he was happy. You didn’t really want that smile to disappear, and you knew he probably didn’t have anything to talk to you about, you were just being paranoid, but it would make you feel better, and you were too selfish to let that pass.

Peter glanced over his shoulder as you leaned against the kitchen counter. He nodded. “Sure,” he said, shutting the dishwasher. He turned around and crossed his arms, a look of slight intrigue crossing his face. “What is it?”

You swallowed, rolling your shoulders a little. You saw Satchmo nudge your hand with his wet nose and felt all the better for it. “I don’t…” you started, before feeling the lump in your throat stop your words. Peter, ever the concerned stand-in parent, moved forward immediately, his eyebrows furrowing together, those frown lines creasing his forehead. He stopped beside you, not wanting to invade your privacy yet needing to be there for you all the same, despite his not knowing what it was you wished to say.

He was a patient man, and so he merely stood beside you for a moment, waiting for you to speak up again. The open door was letting in the fresh breeze, the sound of Elizabeth and Neal’s laughter wafting in through it. It was the perfect day.

“I don’t want there to be any bad blood between us,” you said eventually, in a voice softer than Peter ever believed he’d heard.

He took a little while to mull your words over, staring fixedly at a spot on the floor. He shook his head as though preparing his words. “There isn’t any,” he said after a small moment, tilting his head to look down at you. When you didn’t reply, your hand on top of Satchmo’s head, he darkened his frown. “Hey,” he said, almost as softly as you. He pushed himself from the counter to move partly in front of you, taking your hands into his and waiting for you to meet his gaze. “What makes you think that?”

You swallowed again, foolishly feeling tears in the corner of your eyes. “I knew about the treasure.”

Peter made a face of realisation immediately. He squeezed your hands. “You knew about it after I asked about it,” he reassured you, shaking you a little, “you’re fine. I’m fine. We’re fine.”

“Well, I should’ve told you anyway,” you said, sniffling. “I should’ve told you the moment I found out. That’s withholding evidence… or something.”

Peter huffed a short laugh, releasing your hands only to pull you against his chest in a strong hug. “Your mind’s been working on this one for a while, huh?” he said gently, rubbing his hand up and down your back. You rested against him, eyes staring blankly ahead, lips trembling as you tried to hold the tears back. You felt Peter rest his chin on the top of your head. “I’m telling you, kid,” he said, “there’s nothing bad between us. You didn’t know about the treasure when I asked, and you said you didn’t know whether or not you’d tell me if the odd chance you found out later came up. I accepted that. That’s all that matters.” He turned his head a little, looking into the garden. As he’d expected really, Neal was craning his neck, eyes concerned even from this far away. He rose a dark brow, a silent question passing between them, and Peter nodded his head once, causing the younger man to reluctantly turn back to his conversation with Elizabeth.

Peter imagined it was difficult for both you and Neal to have someone like him in your lives. It’d always been you for a long, long while, and allowing someone in, opening up to that person like you had, was something he felt almost honoured for. Holding you in his arms like this, feeling your hands grip his shirt and your head all but bury in his chest, simply because you were worried he was upset with you, made him feel something indescribable. It was a good feeling, though. The feeling he felt when Neal did as he was told without argument, and called him his friend, and just came into work that morning because he’d decided it wasn’t the day to cut his anklet and run.

Things had changed for the Caffreys. He hadn’t known you at all before a year and a bit ago, but even he could tell that. You were letting people in. Trusting people besides yourselves and each other.

He pat you on the back and pulled away from you a little, gently putting a finger under your chin. “I don’t blame you for wanting to keep Neal safe,” he assured you. “I know it was difficult enough to keep it a secret after you found out.”

You nodded, sniffling a little. Of course it’d been difficult. It’d been the reason you’d cried yourself to sleep that night. You hadn’t wanted the task of having to make a decision, and you were only grateful – and relieved, more than anything – that you hadn’t had to.

“I think...” You glanced down for a second, glassy eyes meeting the soft brown ones of Satchmo. “I think I would’ve told you eventually.”

Peter wasn’t sure if he was surprised at that revelation. He lifted his chin a little, dropping his finger from yours. "Really?"

"Somebody would have found out in the end,” you told him. “Better it be you. You’re the only person who cares about Neal enough to fight for him.”

Peter regarded you carefully, watching as you shuffled your feet and chewed anxiously at the inside of your cheek. He hadn’t really thought about it in that way before, but now you’d mentioned it, he could see it.

It was true, what you’d said. Mozzie and Neal’s treasure-hiding hadn’t been the smartest. There’d been enough leads to have found it eventually, and definitely enough to drive whoever was following those leads to them. Those people would not have been so lenient. They wouldn’t have understood Neal’s (partly) turned over leaf. They wouldn’t have understood his kindness, and his compassion, and his general humanity. And they definitely wouldn’t have understood his need to stay in front of the bars if only to keep Y/N happy.

Peter understood it all and more. If you had told him about the treasure before he – and Keller – had found out about it himself, he doubtlessly, with a small amount of consideration and hesitation, would have decided on some way or another to give Neal the lowest possible amount of punishment he could receive for a crime such as this. He wouldn’t have thrown the guy in jail and left you without your brother for another few years of your life, and New York without Neal.

He loved you both too much to do that to either of you, or to him.

“Yeah,” he said eventually, a little distant in his tone. He looked back out at the garden, Neal’s grin threatening to split his face as he laughed along with Elizabeth. Though Peter could still see his aching need to get up and ask what he and you were talking about. That was Neal Caffrey. The first responder to all his little sister’s life choices. All except some, Peter decided, and he didn’t half mind that.

He turned back to you and gave you a smile, letting it widen as you responded with your own, half genuine one. “You’re a good girl, sweetheart,” he said quietly, “and you help me keep that man within his limitations better than anyone. Make sure you talk to him. I’m getting a little tired seeing those puppy dog eyes every day.” Your chest heaved with a breath of amusement at that, and he counted it as a victory as he pulled you towards him once more. “The only way there could be any bad blood between us is if you killed Satchmo. Or Elizabeth. Or me. Now, go out and ask the beauty, the criminal, and the winter sunbather if they want cheesecake or profiteroles for dessert.”