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maya-caffrey · 1 month ago

Text

Stuck in my head

pairing: neal caffrey x fem!reader

words: 3.2k

summary: Neal Caffrey, Ward of the state, CI by circumstance, Conman by choice, has taken a particular liking to the fence he's actively trying to get arrested while undercover, much to his chagrin.

timeline: this is fanfiction land. time stands still and we dance on canon's remains

warnings: baby this is fluff, no surprises, I swear. maybe a small one somewhere but it's good, I promise

ps: (Y/f/n) is (your/fake/name), (y/n) is (your/name)

"Peter I am telling you, we can't arrest her."

"Because we have no evidence yet? Yeah, I got that."

"No, I'm saying we shouldn't even be pursuing this case in the first place. I don't think she's a fence."

Peter rolled his eyes at Neal's protests and proceeded to ignore the rest of his rant, much like he had since the beginning of the case. For some reason Peter cannot quite understand, Neal has been opposed to working this case ever since the first time he went undercover as George Devore, art collector, to set up a meeting with (Y/f/n).

To the residents of the stakeout van, the meeting was normal and went swimmingly, meaning the next meeting, where the handoff would be discussed, would be enough to put the nail in the coffin and close the case, essentially arresting (Y/f/n) and finally getting the name of the buyer they have been tracking. But to Neal, or rather, George Devore, this seemed like the worst thing in the world at the moment.

Back home, Neal decided to pour his heart out to the only other person who he thought would lend a happy ear. But instead, he was met with merciless judgment from Mozzie.

"Neal, you have a problem when it comes to beautiful women. I say this from a place of love. And perfect recall"

Neal feigned being hurt, even though he knew damn well his only problem with (Y/f/n) was that she was stuck in his head ever since they first met. He had no solid reason, but he was sure she was not just a regular fence for stolen art. She did not carry herself with that shifty cunningness one might find in a con artist, but rather with an air of authority. She seemed honest and sure of herself, which was the first clue he noticed that she may not be a con artist. Her textbook knowledge of Degas was not helping her case, and her being gorgeous was only making things worse.

He remembered the time he showed her the Degas. As she leaned forward to examine the painting he’d brought as bait, he caught a faint hint of her perfume—something light, maybe jasmine? Neal told himself it was just an observation, but even Peter had once told him he had a way of letting the little details trip him up.

Tomorrow was going to be a difficult day.

______________________________________________________________

"Your work is simple. You need to discuss a time and place for the handoff, get her buyer's name to confirm we have the right guy, and have her admit on the record that she’s knowingly trafficking stolen art," Peter said, his tone clipped and businesslike. "Once we have her on tape saying anything that implicates herself or her buyer, we can move in. So keep it casual, stay in character, and—" Peter shot Neal a warning look. "—don’t get any ideas."

Neal managed a tight smile. "You’re really worried I’ll blow it?"

Peter raised an eyebrow. "No, I’m worried you’ll fall for it. There’s a difference."

"Peter, I’ve got this," Neal replied, a bit too quickly. "She’s just another suspect."

Peter crossed his arms, unconvinced. "Good. Keep it that way."

Neal exited the surveillance van to the restaurant where he was meeting (Y/f/n), mentally cursing himself for picking the most romantic spot in town. Although it was George Devore who was meeting her, Neal Caffrey wished it was him instead.

As Neal entered the restaurant, the low lighting and soft jazz in the background felt more intimate than he’d intended. The tables were spaced just far enough apart for privacy, and the scent of roses mixed with fresh bread filled the air. It was a perfect place for a date—not a takedown. He adjusted his cufflinks, reminding himself that George Devore was here to discuss business, but Neal Caffrey couldn't shake the feeling he was here for something else entirely.

The moment he saw her seated at their table, he could feel time slow down around him. His heart, pounding so loud, threatening to give himself away, and his feet were reluctant to move forward. Reminding himself yet another time what he was here for, Neal took the other seat at the table and was greeted by a warm smile.

As he took his seat, the soft lighting cast a warm glow on her face, and Neal couldn't help but notice the way her eyes caught the light, just for a second. Her warm smile and the skip of his own heartbeat threatened to unravel him. He swallowed, hoping she couldn't see how tightly he was gripping the edge of the table under his hand.

“Mr. Devore, you’ve picked quite the place, I must say.” She glanced around, taking in the candlelight and cozy atmosphere with an approving smile.

Neal cleared his throat, managing a relaxed grin. “Please, call me George,” he replied, leaning back slightly, trying to match her casual tone. “I figured someone with your refined taste would appreciate a little ambiance.”

Her eyes sparkled with amusement. “Ambiance and art—my weaknesses.” She tilted her head, studying him for a moment longer than was comfortable. “So, George, what’s next on our agenda?”

Neal felt his pulse quicken. The way she looked at him, with a blend of curiosity and confidence, made it difficult to remember that this was just business. “I thought we’d finalize the details,” he said smoothly, though his mind was racing. “Make sure we’re all on the same page… especially about your buyer.”

She had this way of tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear just before she spoke as if gathering her thoughts in a gesture as practiced as her knowledge of art. For someone supposedly in the business of deception, she was oddly composed, almost serene. And that calm was getting to him.

"Well, my buyer is a man who really values his privacy, you know how it is." Neal could feel his focus shifting away from their conversation and was almost sure he'd stutter if he said another word. He knew that to get anything from her, he'd have to give up something as well, as a show of trust. Or you know, he could tank the entire investigation by naming the buyer himself and spooking the poor fence.

"Really? Because word on the street is, you've got Orwell Anders lined up for the Deg-" She casually reached for his wrist, her fingers grazing over the watch. In a swift motion, she turned it off—he'd almost missed it. Neal's breath caught as he realized she knew exactly what it was.

"How did you know—Who are you?"

"How long until your agents move in?"

"A couple minutes, if I don’t respond."

"In that case, I’ll get straight to the point. Neal, my name’s (Y/n). I’m with the FBI—Homicide Division, specifically. And yes, I know exactly who you are. I’m undercover to take down Orwell Anders. Part of my operation involves meeting him as a fence, which is why I’m here. I thought we were on the same side, but it’s clear you’re investigating me, and that’s a problem. I can't let you derail this case, especially since we need him for murder. I turned off your watch because your van is compromised. I’m sure you can figure out who’s responsible for that. If they've heard any of this from the van, it's over."

Neal blinked, trying to absorb everything she’d just dropped on him. His mind raced, but he kept his face neutral. “So, let me get this straight,” he said slowly, his voice steady despite the chaos inside. “You’re working for the FBI… and you’ve been undercover, posing as a fence to get close to Anders? But now you want me to back off, or what? Help you catch him for murder?”

She didn’t flinch at his disbelief. Instead, she leaned in slightly, her voice low and urgent. “I didn’t want to pull you in, Neal. But now that your team’s involved, I need you to understand—we can’t afford to lose him. We need solid evidence to tie him to the murder. If you keep investigating me, it’ll ruin everything.”

Neal studied her, trying to find a crack in her story, but there was nothing. Just the same calm, controlled demeanor he’d seen in her earlier, only now there was something sharper, more desperate underneath it.

“You’re telling me that all this—” He waved a hand, gesturing to their whole encounter, the charade, the tension between them—“is a setup. And you knew all along who I was?”

Her expression softened just a fraction. “I had to, Neal. But this isn’t about you. It’s about stopping a killer.”

He leaned back in his chair, trying to make sense of the sudden shift in dynamics. This wasn’t how he’d imagined things would play out. She wasn’t just another suspect. She was part of the game. The rules had just changed.

“So, what now?” Neal asked, the hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth, but his eyes were sharp, focused. “You want me to help you take down Anders, but you need me to play nice? Or should I just keep pretending I’m the clueless art dealer you think I am?”

She paused, eyes narrowing slightly, but there was an unreadable intensity behind them. “I don’t need you to pretend, Neal. I need you to trust me.”

"You could've gone to Peter or Hughes with this. You knew I'm a CI. You knew I was on a case. Why go with the charade?"

"I guess I thought I was helping with your investigation? I hadn't realized you were looking into me at that point." She almost looked guilty for having to have put him through that.

Neal’s mind spun with everything she had just revealed. The weight of her words hung between them, a fragile thread of trust that could snap at any moment. He wasn’t sure what to believe anymore. The lines were blurring in a way he hadn’t expected, and as much as he wanted to shut this down, something about her calm confidence made him hesitate.

She watched him, waiting for him to make a decision. Finally, Neal took a deep breath, trying to push aside the growing unease in his gut.

“Okay,” he said, his voice steady, but with an edge of suspicion. “Let’s say I believe you for a second. What now?”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she reached over and placed her hand gently on his wrist, the same place she’d turned off the watch earlier. Her fingers lingered for a moment, before she spoke in a low, urgent tone. “Turn it back on, Neal. I need you to stay in character, to help me take him down. If we’re going to get Anders for both the murder and the stolen art, we need him to make a move—one he can’t deny. And right now, I need your help to make that happen.”

Neal’s chest tightened at the request. He didn’t want to help her. He didn’t want to become a pawn in whatever dangerous game she was playing. But he had no choice. The mission was bigger than just the art, and from the way she was looking at him, he knew this was their best shot.

He let out a frustrated sigh, but reached for his wrist with a reluctant motion. Slowly, he turned the watch back on, the familiar hum buzzing against his skin.

“Fine,” he muttered, looking up at her. “But you owe me one.”

She gave him a brief, almost imperceptible smile. “You’ll get more than you think.”

Neal watched her as she leaned back in her chair, her posture shifting from casual to calculating, her eyes never leaving his. She was in full control now, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she always had been. All he knew was that he liked it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day, they were back in the briefing room. Peter was already in his usual spot, running the meeting as he always did. Neal couldn’t help but notice (Y/n) walking in, though. She was a stark contrast to the playful, teasing woman he'd met the night before. Today, she was all business.

In her pantsuit, with her badge and gun, she looked right at home. The transition was seamless, and for a second, Neal wondered just how much of that was the real her. The woman who had handled the dinner situation with such ease had just stepped into her role without missing a beat.

She offered Peter a quick smile, then took her seat, her posture shifting from relaxed to focused in an instant. There was no sign of the laid-back charm she had shown before. She was more chipper and excited than the nervously calm person he had seen yesterday.

"Morning," she said, her voice warm but professional. It was clear this was her zone, and Neal respected that. But a part of him couldn’t help but notice the contrast from last night—the way her eyes seemed to soften just before she turned away like she was still adjusting to the change.

Peter began the briefing, detailing the next steps with his usual focus. Neal stayed quiet, letting Peter run through the plan. But his attention kept drifting to (Y/n). There was a quiet energy between them, something unspoken that he couldn’t quite shake.

“Alright, team,” Peter said as the briefing wrapped up. “Neal, (Y/n), you’ll be tailing Anders. We need to get something concrete, so keep your eyes open.”

Neal nodded, but he was still processing everything. Working with (Y/n) felt… different. She had a way about her, an energy that made it hard to stay entirely focused. She wasn’t acting like someone undercover, yet Neal couldn’t help but feel there was more to her than what was on the surface.

As the team started to shuffle out, Neal lingered for a moment. He caught (Y/n)’s eye again as she packed her things. Her gaze softened just a little before she turned back to her bag, though Neal was certain she hadn’t meant to let it show.

“You good?” he asked, trying to keep things light, though his voice had a slight edge to it. He wasn’t sure if it was the case or the connection that was making him second-guess himself.

“Yeah,” she replied, meeting his gaze with an easy smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You?”

“Never better,” Neal said with a shrug, though he didn’t really believe it. His pulse was still a little too quick, and he couldn’t figure out why.

Peter called from the door. “Neal, (Y/n), let’s go.”

Neal and (Y/n) fell into step, heading toward the door. Neal could feel her presence beside him, just a little too close for comfort in a way that was making it harder to concentrate. He glanced at her quickly, catching the faintest blush on her cheeks. It could’ve been nothing, but something told him it wasn’t.

They walked in silence for a moment before Neal broke it, his voice low, as if testing the waters. “You ever do anything like this before?”

She gave him a sideways glance. “Yeah, but it's always more fun when you’re with someone who’s as good as me.”

Neal chuckled, his usual charm slipping back into place. “So you’re saying you’ve never worked with a partner as handsome as me?”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, but there was a smile tugging at her lips, something soft in her expression. She didn’t answer immediately, her attention focused on the task ahead, but Neal noticed her glancing at him again, just for a moment too long. And this time, it wasn’t just the mission that was on his mind.

Something was starting to shift—between them. And though Neal tried to push it away, he knew it would only be a matter of time before everything between them came to a head.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The bust went down as smooth as they could’ve hoped. Anders didn’t stand a chance, caught entirely off-guard by (Y/n)’s meticulous planning. Neal watched her in action, directing her team with precision, her voice steady and unyielding. She was completely in her element, and for a moment, he was genuinely impressed—maybe a bit more than he wanted to admit.

Once Anders was cuffed and led away, Peter nodded toward her, clearly impressed himself. “You know, we could use an agent like you at White Collar,” he said, half-serious, but the glint in his eye suggested it was more than a passing thought.

She let out a small laugh, a hint of sadness mingled with amusement. “Funny you’d say that,” she replied, hands on her hips. “This is actually my last case with Homicide. I’ve just been transferred.”

Neal’s eyebrow arched, intrigue sparking in his eyes. “Transferred?” He leaned in, his voice dropping a touch lower. “Guess that means I’ll be seeing more of you.”

(Y/n) smirked, tilting her head as she met his gaze, unflinching. “Maybe. Though, from what I hear, it’s hard to keep up with you, Caffrey.”

“Oh, I think you’d manage,” he shot back, eyes glinting as he stepped just a bit closer, their shoulders nearly touching. “After all, I wouldn’t mind a little… competition.”

She held his gaze, her smile widening just a fraction. “Competition? Careful, Neal. I don’t play nice when I’m winning.”

Peter watched the exchange, clearly amused, before clearing his throat and muttering, “Alright, save the flirting for the office.” His words hung in the air, casual but with enough weight to make both of them suddenly feel exposed.

Neal’s easy grin faltered, his usual charm suddenly thrown off-balance. He looked away quickly, shoving his hands in his pockets and adjusting his stance, trying to seem nonchalant. “Flirting?” he echoed, a hint of forced laughter creeping in. “I wouldn’t call it… flirting.”

(Y/n)’s expression tightened, and she crossed her arms, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Yeah, I mean—it’s not like that,” she muttered, glancing at Neal and then away, her tone coming out sharper than she intended. “This is just professional courtesy, right?”

Neal chuckled, a little too loudly. “Exactly. I mean, you know me, Peter. I’m just… courteous.”

Peter raised an eyebrow, watching the two of them stumble over their words, clearly enjoying the unexpected reaction. “Uh-huh. Just professional courtesy,” he repeated, the skepticism obvious in his voice.

(Y/n) looked at Neal, a slight flush creeping up her neck as she tried to regain her composure. “Exactly. Nothing else to it.”

Neal opened his mouth, as if to agree again, but no words came out. Instead, he gave a stiff nod, forcing his usual confidence back into his posture. “Right. So… I’ll see you around, Agent,” he added, voice slightly strained, and he quickly looked away, almost as if he couldn’t stand meeting her eyes.

(Y/n) nodded curtly, avoiding his gaze as she muttered, “Yeah, see you, Caffrey.”

As she turned to leave, Peter stifled a laugh, and Neal, sensing Peter’s amusement, shot him a defensive look. “What? I wasn’t… it’s not…” But he knew there was no winning this one.

Peter simply shook his head, chuckling as he clapped Neal on the shoulder. “Sure, Neal. Whatever you say.”

#neal caffrey #neal caffrey x reader #white collar #white collar x reader #neal caffrey x reader fluff #neal caffrey fluff #neal caffrey imagine #maya writes

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thesirencove · 13 hours ago

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✩°｡𓏲⋆.𓋼𖦹 ₊˚ THE BAKERY – NEAL CAFFREY X READER

this fic is based on a request i got from an anonymous user , which can be seen here ! i was so excited to get this , it was my first requeset and i wanted to make sure it was up to par . i hope this is what you wanted , and thank you so so much for sending it in !

my requests are still open , so be sure send them in :) i'll be slowly working through any that get sent over !

neal caffrey x fem!reader (romantic)

summary: when neal falls in love with a girl who owns a bakery in the city and dreams of a cottage in the woods . based on this request .

warnings: none !

word count: 1.2k

the first time neal met her, she had just come out of the bakery’s kitchen, smiling at him as she laid out new loaves on the shelf labeled, “sourdough.” elizabeth had been raving about the new bakery that opened up not too far from the office, and he felt a pull to go there. he found it especially ironic that he once bought a bakery, chuckling to himself about how different this one would be. it definitely wouldn’t involve him jumping out of a window onto the awning.

he walked inside, the door chiming a voice from the back yelling out to give her just a minute! he stood in front of the display case, met with some of the most beautiful pastries he’d ever seen. a variety of croissants, pain au chocolat, peach and strawberry chaussons – there were so many of them. and the amount of bread that adorned each shelf was incredible. each bread was separated from one another, a label underneath each and atop it all was a sign with the labels “boule – 6.50” and “batard – $7.50”

the rest of the bakery was beautiful as well. the walls were covered in golden oak panels, refinished to look like they had a long history. there was a case in the front right corner of multiple different flowers, and there were baskets near the pastry display cases of lavender and wildflowers. they were tied together with various colours of ribbon, a bow at the front of each bouquet to complete them. on the opposing side from the flower case was a shelf of honey jars, with a cute yellow sign reading, “honey, home-grown and fresh! bees are well taken care of :) $5.00”

he smiled at how sweetly everything was put together. he knew a lot of thought had gone into this place, and everything was so pretty. not only that, but the smell of pastries in the case made his mouth water. he knew he needed to buy a bunch to bring back to the office, and a few extra on top of that to give to mozzie.

when she walked out from the kitchen area as he was surveying the palce, sourdough loaves in hand and smiling at him, neal thought he’d gone to heaven right then and there. she had the brightest, most beautiful smile he’d ever seen. he wanted to see that smile over and over again for the rest of his life. he felt his own mouth immediately rise into a smile as well as he looked at her restocking the sourdough loaves.

“i see those are popular,” he said once she turned back towards him.

“oh, yes! they go out of stock really early in the morning, but today i made some extra. poor cin-dough-ella is being put to serious work every day for that bread,” she said, frowning at the end.

“cin-dough-ella?” neal asked, curious to what she meant. what the hell is a cin-dough-ella?

“that’s what i named my sourdough starter! she’s been in the family for years now, it felt right to finally give her a name,” she nodded, content, before continuing, “anyways, what can i get you today?”

“definitely one of those sourdough loaves,” neal replied, grinning at her.

after the loaves of bread, he got two entire boxes of pastries filled: one for home (to share with mozzie and june, of course) and one for the office. he kept making small-talk with the bakery owner, liking her more and more as the minutes passed. once he paid, he thanked her and left. he was only 20 steps away from the bakery when he decided to turn back around and ask for her number. so began their love story.

he since learned that she always wanted to own a bakery, but she never expected for it to be in the city. she always thought it’d be in the countryside, where she’d live in a cottage and perhaps even have her own animals. plans change, though, and she ended up moving to the city for reasons out of her control. she was quite happy here, though, and having the bakery at least solved one part of the equation.

neal was happy that she moved here, and that he had met her when he did. they’d gone on three dates since their first meeting before making it official. it’s been three years since then, and they were more in love than the first time they met.

neal often came home to their shared apartment and found her baking. she was always trying new recipes and wanting to welcome him home with a fresh pastry. he had absolutely no complaints about that. he also found a way to make her cottage dreams come true, being able to get his hands on a beautiful home in the countryside that they could go to for vacations. he still has the memory etched in his mind from when he surprised her with the cottage, the smile she had on her face as happy tears rolled down her face. she hugged him so hard, whispering thank you’s into his neck.

he would always do what he could to make her happy, and she gave back as much as she could. they both had their bad days. ones where she would have an unsuccessful day at the bakery and felt discouraged, and he’d remind her that tomorrow is a new day. he’d hug her and comfort her and love her all the ways she needed to be loved. and there were the days where neal would come home after an awful day working on a new case, feeling hopeless and like he couldn’t do anything to help. and she’d remind him that he was the smartest man she knew, that he knew what he was doing, and that maybe he needed to look at the case from a new angle. she’d remind him of how beautiful his heart was and hold him and love him all the ways he needed to be loved.

from the moment they locked eyes on that first day, smiles adorned on both of their faces, it was written into the world that they were it for each other. there was no love greater than the one they held for each other. always putting one another above anything else, making time to spend together, ensuring that they were always prioritized and never felt pushed away. it wasn’t always perfect, but they were a team as much as they were lovers and it worked.

neal’s love with the girl who owns a bakery, one who loves wildflowers and wants a cottage in the woods is one he wouldn’t give up for anything. and maybe one day, when they no longer want to live in the city, they’ll move full time to that cottage in the countryside and raise cows and bees and sheep together. she’d teach him how to make sourdough bread and pain au chocolat, and he’d do the handiwork around their home and make the best wine they’d ever tasted. this love would be absolute bliss, and it would last forever. it would leave them sitting on their porch, old and grey, hand in hand as they still love one another just as much as they did when they were young.

#neal caffrey x reader #neal caffrey x fem!reader #neal caffrey x you #neal caffrey imagine #neal caffrey fic #neal caffrey #white collar #white collar fanfic #white collar fanfiction #neal caffrey fluff #writing #₊⁺☀︎₊⁺⋆.˚ aqua's fanfics #⋆｡˚ ๋࣭ ⭑ .ᐟ aqua's requests

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white-collar-lawmen-and-conmen · 2 years ago

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Bodyguard

Summary: There’s immediate chemistry when Y/N works as Neal’s bodyguard.

Words: 2,569

Requested by anon

“I didn’t know there was a whole gym,” Neal commented, looking around with some interest at the exercise equipment. He almost considered asking if he was allowed down here without supervision, but then decided communal equipment probably didn’t meet his standards of cleanliness.

Peter had brought him down to the basement floor and into a large, open room with black mats. One agent was running at a treadmill, another two were working at ellipticals, and a fourth was doing some push-ups in athleticwear. Lastly, on a slim side of the room without any extra equipment, but on a gymnastics mat, a pair of agents were working hand-to-hand training.

“It’s not exactly here to be an amenity,” Peter pointed out, slowing down as they approached the agents working hand-to-hand. “We’re not here to work out, anyway. Jones says our guy’s reportedly quick to jump the gun. Possibly literally. I’m not having you go in alone.”

They stopped a couple yards from the mat. One of the fighters was a tall man with arms that could give Jason Momoa a run for his money. The other was a woman with sweat dripping down her face and hell in her eyes. Neal was enchanted by you straight away. While they watched, the older man came at you to pick you up as if in a fireman’s hold, but you slammed her body weight right into his mass, tightened each fist around the opposite side of his shirt collar, and pulled your arms back across each other as hard as possible. Although the male agent was, in fact, able to grab you the second time, he couldn’t pick you up without choking himself harder, and he stomped his foot twice to reset.

“I told you it would work,” you said smugly, releasing his shirt while he rubbed his throat. You turned and your eyes slipped right past Peter and Neal, zeroing in on your bottled water and hand towel at the edge of the mat.

“Only in one-on-one,” your coworker cautioned, rubbing his throat with one hand. “And only for you would I ever bet on that one.”

You wiped off her forehead and then gave Peter and Neal both a bright smile, holding the water bottle against her neck as if it were still cold. “Hi,” you said cheerfully. “You must be Burke. Lovely to meet you. I’m L/N.”

“Neal,” the thief interjected himself, giving her his most charming smile. “That was very impressive.”

“I’m sold,” you said to Peter straight away before turning back to Neal. “You can call me Y/N. I’ll be your bodyguard for your undercover operation.” You lowered her water bottle and gave him a short curtsy. “I’ve been with the bureau about two years, but aced weapons training and have been studying martial arts since I was a kid. You’ll be in good hands.”

“Evil hands,” your coworker huffed, drinking water himself and still rubbing sorely at his neck. “Evil, evil hands.”

Peter chuckled while Neal gave you a warm smile. “I already feel safer.”

He didn’t feel threatened at all, really, and some traditional, gentlemanly part of himself didn’t love the idea of a female bodyguard. Not that he didn’t appreciate strong women; it could be argued he appreciated strong women a bit too much – but it felt different, somehow, to go in expecting a woman to take a hit for him and hit back on his behalf, compared to simply going in with a female partner and trusting her to have his back. Bodyguard had a different connotation he didn’t like so much… but, bodyguards had their place in the environment he’d be trying to blend into.

Y/N smiled back at him. It could’ve been just his imagination, but he thought you were charming him, too. Maybe flirting a little. Just as he thought you were having a moment, Peter ruined it by interrupting to talk shop.

“We’d love to get you up to white collar and run down the plan early,” he said. The smile slipped off of your face, replaced immediately by a completely professional and solemn expression. Peter continued, “Let you sleep on it, and give an opportunity to think of any questions before we officially get started.”

“I just need twenty minutes and I can be in your division,” you said, pointing over towards the door that Neal presumed led to the showers.

“Take thirty,” Peter said kindly, then sending a playful look over Y/N’s shoulder. “You alright there, Chris?”

Chris, who had started cooling off while they talked, gave a thumbs-up. “I’m just going to miss her so much,” he said sarcastically, making you smirk. “Who else is going to make me look average?”

“I’ll be back to combat training before you know it,” you promised him teasingly, giving Neal a lingering look of what he decided was friendly interest before heading to the showers to clean off.

Neal watched you go, mindfully keeping his eyes up north. It wasn’t often he met agents who were so willing to broadcast friendliness towards him, much less ones who were willing to be a little bit flirty. And, he had to admit, he liked that athletic look you had.

“Eh,” Peter said, making the noise sharp in his throat like he did at Satchmo. Neal startled and Peter shook his head. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Never,” Neal agreed, inwardly rolling his eyes. No point in arguing when Peter had already decided he was misbehaving. “Just-“ His agent made the noise again and Neal’s lips tightened in irritation. “That’s so rude,” the thief scolded.

~~~ Bodyguard ~~~

“Don’t worry,” you said, misinterpreting Neal’s long look at the wire being fastened on the inside of your button-down shirt. “This isn’t my first time.”

It was low-hanging fruit, so to speak, but the joke was impossible to pass on when you were standing there with the top buttons undone. “I’ll still be gentle,” he joked, chuckling when you stuck your tongue out at him.

“I won’t,” you retorted, grinning when he was pleasantly surprised.

With the wire in place, you pulled on a black blazer that you wore open. It looked amazing, framing your waist and hugging your shoulders. He had to remind himself that if he flirted too hard, Peter might send him to the HR department. Not that he was worried, because you weren’t being too shy about your attraction to him, either. Neal was a very handsome man, and you knew he was very smart on top of that. Smart, hot guys were kind of a weakness.

But attraction or a conflict of interest was also a weakness – and that was the type of weakness that you had been trained to avoid. While you worked together, you could be friendly, but professional. When the operation was done, though… you were in different divisions, with different specialties. You didn’t see any reason why you couldn’t offer to take him for coffee once you were done working together. Work just had to come first.

In theory, the operation was a very simple one for you. You just stood slightly behind Neal, looking intimidating and watching his back. Agent Burke didn’t want him to be unprotected, but the odds of Neal actually being attacked were slim, between the FBI’s top-notch forgeries for his fake ID and his proven track record of de-escalation. Still, you looked the part and made sure he had someone. And you were glad that you did, because it turned out that this was one instance where even Neal couldn’t settle the ruffled feathers.

Neal saw from the start that everyone was on edge. It wasn’t the great beginning that he had hoped for, but it was the worse case scenario that he had planned on. He turned up the charm to eleven, settling smoothly into his role as a proud but amicable thief, hoping that if he didn’t act like anything was amiss, neither would the armed men around him. With Y/N behind him, although he wanted to feel safer, he also knew that they were outnumbered – and he would much rather no fight started anyway. Even if you could guarantee his safety, he’d feel awful if anyone were hurt over him.

Unfortunately, the worse scenario turned to the worst. The mark had already decided he didn’t trust Neal, and by extension, didn’t trust you. It didn’t matter how much of a smooth talker anyone was when your guilt was already decided. They looked for reasons to lash out, going as far as to search Neal’s person for a wire. Fortunately, he wasn’t wearing one because the bureau had stuck with the recording counterfeit watch. If it worked, why change it? But he could feel his heart speeding up even as he kept his breath even, knowing that if they didn’t find what they were looking for on him, they would check you next.

“Alright,” Mark snapped, gesturing roughly at Neal to be moved away from the table. The cards were left shuffled but unfinished and Neal gave them a forlorn look as he was yanked away by one of the guards. “Her next.”

The other one had shuffled into place behind you. By the rigid way you’d been standing ever since, Neal knew you were aware. You moved forward before the man had a chance to push you, but you left your jacket on and gave Neal a small look with a simple little nod as if telling him it was okay. Although he knew better than to look nervous, he couldn’t lie to himself that well – not with one gun in sight and finger-shaped bruises forming on his upper arm.

Mark made the other guard take your jacket off from behind. You forced your shoulders to stay down and not look defensive. It also served the double purpose of not telegraphing your move before you made it. Just before Mark started patting you down, you whirled around, kicking your leg out and striking him in the groin. While he involuntarily went backwards while doubling over, you delivered a hard strike to the guard’s face with one hand and went straight for his gun with the other. In maybe five seconds, you had a firm grip on the weapon and were stepping away from both men, bringing the gun up to the other guard.

As soon as the guard behind Neal realized what was happening, he’d hurriedly let go of the con artist and gone for his own sidearm. “Y/N!” Neal yelled in warning, throwing himself against the guard to throw off his aim.

A bullet fired, but lodged itself firmly in the wall. The puffed loudly at being shoved aside and turned the gun back to Neal. Now you were pissed. You took a shot as the guard did. Another side of the room let out a crack from a stray bullet, his aim thrown – again – this time by your shot to his arm. He dropped the gun and Neal, who’d doubled over holding onto his arm, hurriedly scrambled to cover the grip with his shoe.

“You okay?” You barked, rushing to him and hurriedly taking the gun up from the ground. You put the safety back on, tucked it in your empty holster, and put an arm in front of Neal, ushering the thief gently back towards the wall to have a more defensible point. By now, you were sure that backup was rushing in.

“It grazed me,” Neal hissed, turning to look at his arm. The sleeve was ripped and a two-inch stripe over his arm was raw pink speckled with red. You took it in during just a glance and dropped your shoulders again, relieved.

“I’ve seen much worse grazes,” you said reassuringly, but scolded, “You shouldn’t have gotten in the way. I had it handled.”

Neal grimaced, replaying it in his head. You’d already been looking at the guard before he slammed his body into the man. He’d been so focused on the gun being raised towards you that, at the time, he hadn’t processed that you already had yours levelled at the man. You would’ve gotten the shot off first, and neither of you would’ve ended up hurt if Neal hadn’t jumped in in a momentary panic. When he did, you hadn’t had a clear shot until the guard was already aiming at him.

“My bad,” he said pointedly, pushing his elbow out as if to remind you of the graze. It burned fiercely.

~~~ Bodyguard ~~~

“I gave you a bodyguard specifically so this wouldn’t happen,” Peter complained when he had Neal sitting down. He didn’t seem to care that Neal’s seat was the back of an EMT van while a man quickly but carefully disinfected his arm.

“She was outnumbered,” Neal said defensively. He already felt bad enough, but he’d genuinely feared for her life at the time. “I was trying to help.”

“Next time help by trusting our professionals to do our jobs,” Peter rebuked. His eyes softened when Neal looked away from him. “This was too close,” he said more gently. “The worst outcome of a case is one where my people don’t come back in one piece. I know you were trying to help, but this is what she was trained for. I wouldn’t send you in with someone who couldn’t manage… I’m glad you’re okay.”

Neal looked up reluctantly and saw nothing but sympathy and concern in Peter’s eyes, so he drew himself up a bit and nodded understanding. “Thanks,” he said quietly, and then dismissed the sentimentality of their exchange by complaining, “No one ever said how much this hurts.”

“Pain is a good teacher,” Peter said dryly. “Don’t do it again.”

After checking with the EMT that Neal didn’t need a hospital after Neal himself turned down the offer of a ride, Peter gave him a pat on his uninjured side and went back to the agents cleaning up the crime scene. He’d barely been gone a minute when you came to join Neal, hands in your pockets, stolen weapons surrendered.

“You did good,” you said with a small smile. “I appreciated your intent. I’d call it a learning opportunity.”

“Yeah, consider it learned,” Neal sighed. He was also going to hear about this from Jones and Diana, without a doubt. “Thanks for having my back.”

“It’s what I’m here for,” you said courteously. It was hard not to point out that if he’d been alone, they wouldn’t have found a wire and a fight wouldn’t have had to happen. Still, the fact that they’d been itching for a reason made you glad he hadn’t gone alone. “I guess they’re arrested for shooting at us.”

“The exact things we wanted access to were in the office,” Neal said, summarizing Peter’s initial glee when he’d arrived. As he did, the EMT put a light dressing on his arm. “By making it a crime scene, we got legal access to everything. They practically built our case for us, and got more charges against them.”

“I guess the case is basically over, then,” you said with a cheery smile. “That means I can ask you out for coffee. Ill-advised or not, trying to save my life was rather attractive.”

Neal chuckled, moving his elbow back to his side and standing up. “I’d love to get coffee, though I hope I didn’t just set too high a bar for myself.”

“You absolutely did,” you teased.

~~~

A/N: I’m still working on the NCAC sequel, but I wanted to get something out sooner than later, so I made this. I hope you enjoy :) Don’t forget to comment or send a message if you want to be added to this blog’s Discord server!

#white collar #white collar x reader #lawmen and conmen #oneshot #bodyguard #fluff #casefic #reader #reader insert #second person #neal caffrey #neal caffrey x reader #peter burke #fic

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sonufabitchhhhh · 3 years ago

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Masterlist

Feel free to leave requests for any fandom! As long as I know the characters, I’ll be happy to write for them!

Metal Family

One shots:

• Dee x Reader: She Fuckin’ Hates Me

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

• Dee x Reader: Your Secrets Out and the Best Part is it isn’t Evan a Good One

Harry Potter

Stories:

• Barty Crouch Jr x Reader: Words, Wars, and Symphonies

Chapter 1

Summary: When Bellatrix and Fenrir drag Barty bag to Malfoy Manor one evening with a big gash across his stomach, that no spell or potion seems to heal, y/n - a sweet Death Eater, the daughter of one of the older followers - steps in with an unconventional method. Barty knows its his last resort, but doesn’t like the vulnerability it causes, but she seems to be getting closer and closer to him, and he can’t explain how she seems to knock a wall down every time he puts one up.

White Collar

Stories:

• Matthew Keller x Reader: You Were My Oppressor, But Now You Are My Handler

Prologue | Chapter 1

Summary: Agent y/n s/n is presented with a difficult question. It seems conman Matthew Keller is looking to cut the same deal as his rival Neal Caffrey, and the bureau has deemed him a worthy asset. The question is: will y/n be his handler? Accepting the offer, Agent s/n's life is about to be a lot more interesting!

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reids-rendering-reality · 4 years ago

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Criminal Collar

Summary: Spencer meets Y/N’s ex-boyfriend and renowned criminal consultant for the White Collar Crime Unit of the FBI, Neal Caffrey.

(A/N: this is a cross-over between White Collar and Criminal Minds. There are no spoilers for WC and you don’t need to have watched it to read this. Also, I know I made Neal a little meaner than he is, but it fits better with my storyline oops)

Type: angst, with the end being fluffy and a little smutty

Warnings: mentions of criminal activity, insecurity, jealousy, making out

Word Count: 2.4K

Reader’s POV

I joined the BAU about one and a half years ago, after leaving the White Collar Crime Unit of the FBI. Honestly, I was kind of glad when Strauss requested my transfer and my new team suits me way better. Especially because I’ve started dating Dr. Spencer Reid 6 months ago and he makes me really happy. However, I guess luck wasn’t on my side this week.

Like it always is when things like this happen, it was a regular day at the FBI. I was working on some paperwork at my desk before JJ would brief us on the new case in half an hour. That was when Hotch appeared from his office.

“Y/L/N, can you come into my office?” he said looking down at me into the bullpen. When I just looked up at him confused for a moment, he continued “now, please.”

I got up slowly, exchanging a few worried glances with Spencer before walking into his office.

“Agent Burke from the White Collar unit has requested you to go downstairs and consult on a case,” Hotch said in his typical ultra-serious voice.

“Do you know what case this is? I am working on this team now,” I said, a little worried that I would have to return to the WCU.

“I don’t know. But don’t worry, you won’t be transferred again. Head down now, we’re leaving in an hour. Spencer will brief the case to you on the jet,” he said while mustering my anxious stance.

When I returned to the bullpen, I quickly organised my desk so that I could leave for the jet right away.

“What did he want?” Spencer asked, suddenly standing next to me which made me jump a little.

“WCU needs a consult on a case, but I’ll be back in time for take-off,” I said, avoiding his eyes and getting ready to leave for the elevator.

I walked past Spencer and didn’t turn around once, but I could feel his eyes on the back of my head. Not only his though, I felt the entire team stare me down as I disappeared into the hall.

The rest of the week was relatively eventless – for the BAU at least. I gave Burke his consult on the case and headed to Texas with the others. The case was not too difficult or straining.

When we returned to the office, it wasn’t even late. It was midday, and everyone was chattering about happily in the elevator. But when the elevator doors opened, the mood shifted completely. Right there, in the bullpen, sitting at my desk, I saw a figure in a black fedora. My breath hitched and I could feel Spencer look over at me. When we exited the elevator, the figure turned around and revealed his face.

“Is that-“ Morgan began baffled.

“Neal Caffrey,” I finished a clear sour undertone to my voice. Both Morgan and Spencer looked at me weirdly. It was unusual for me to talk in this way, I don’t think they have ever heard it before.

I pushed open the glass doors and hurried away from the others towards the man sitting at my desk.

“Y/N/N! So nice to see you again,” he grinned up at me as I approached him. I could still feel the four pairs of eyes burning into the back of my head.

“Neal, what are you doing here?” I said, my voice even more furious than before. At the same time, my mind was racing about how I would explain all of this to Spencer and the others later.

“Can’t we just talk like we used to? I saw you in Burke’s office on Monday,” he said, still grinning and making no move to get out of the chair.

“Fine, come with me,” I walked away towards the conference room, hearing him following behind me in his typically slow and casual stride.

Spencer’s POV

I felt my jaw being open during their entire interaction and quickly shut it as they entered the conference room.

“What was that all about?” Prentiss asked curiously.

“That’s Neal Caffrey, the criminal consultant down at the-“ I began to explain almost automatically.

“I know who he is, but how does he know Y/N and why is he here?” Prentiss interrupted me.

“Well, Y/N worked down at the WCU before she was transferred here. I heard a rumour from a friend that works there. Apparently, Y/N was dating him during her time there and when a case ended badly for them, they suspected that she couldn’t work there with him anymore. He did some scandalous things that not only endangered the reputation of their entire team, but also the entire FBI. Some say, Y/N was in on it and didn’t tell anyone. But after a couple of examinations, she was transferred here instead because Strauss thinks she’s invaluable to the FBI,” JJ explained to all of us.

“She dated a criminal? Damn, I never would’ve expected that from her,” Derek said and looked up to the conference room and then said a little more quietly, “quite a change in her type since she came here.”

I looked at him incredulously, before looking at my hands and fidgeting with them.

“Did you know about this, Reid?” Prentiss asked me.

“Me?” I looked up again, “What- uh- no, of course not!”

“How did you not know that your girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend is one of the most famous white-collar criminals?” Morgan asked.

“We haven’t really talked about that stuff,” I said quietly, “it’s not like I would’ve had anything to share.”

“So you’re telling me, you’ve never had the uncomfortable talk about exes with her? For a genius, you do not have a lot of experience with relationships,” Prentiss said, her tone almost joking.

“What do you think they’re talking about in there?” I tried to deflect the topic of conversation away from me while looking up at the conference room, where Neal was just closing the blinds.

Reader’s POV

“So, why did you come here?” I asked, closing the door to the conference room behind me as Neal looked around.

“Surely you miss the WCU. This place is dark and gloomy. The cases are grim and the undercover operations aren’t nearly as glamorous. Plus, I’m not there,” he grinned at me. I couldn’t help but chuckle at his attempt at flirting with me.

“Cut the crap, I left the WCU for a reason. Don’t make me ask again: why are you here?” I could feel my annoyance rise.

“I’m here because of you. I just want to talk to you. We haven’t seen each other in so long, I wanted to catch up a little,” he paused, walking around the table, “you can’t tell me you haven’t missed me.”

“I haven’t,” I said.

Before I could continue to speak, Neal continued, “right. Like I would believe that,” he looked out the window into the bullpen where the team was standing, trying not to stare too obviously, “but then again, here’s that lanky boy. He keeps looking at you in a certain way. Is he your boyfriend?”

Neal glanced at me for a moment, before turning his attention back to the window and closing the blinds with a bright grin.

“That’s none of your business. My life is none of your business anymore. You put me in so much danger without even caring about the consequences. That’s why I transferred here. So please, just leave me alone.”

He now walked over me in casual strides. I mustered him, the memories resurfacing at the sight of him in that typical classy Italian suit, with a pin on his tie. He was always dressed so properly. But the way he behaved was just the opposite. Yet, a tiny little part of me looked at him and saw that attractive man that I had fallen in love with over the years working with him.

He stopped when he was standing right in front of me, brushing a strand of hair out of my face.

“Y/N, don’t you think it’s time to let that go? That was such a long time ago.. I’ve changed, you know?” he looked into my eyes with a sincerity that I would’ve believed one and a half years ago. But working at the BAU taught me a lot about reading people, seeing typical communication and manipulation strategies. I wasn’t falling for his lies anymore.

“Is that all you came here for, Neal? Trying to get me back? Because I won’t ever go back to you. I’ve moved on and I realised that dating you, to begin with, was a huge mistake,” I said with the most confident tone I could muster.

That last part wasn’t entirely true. While he did hurt me, my reputation, and everything I stood for repeatedly, he still was a part of me. We had been in a relationship for years. There were so many good times that I had to let go for my well-being.

To be convincing with my words, I walked past him, towards the door, “it’s time for you to leave.”

After a little bickering back and forth, he finally walked out of the BAU. I could see that the team had left, only Spencer was still sitting at his desk, working on some paperwork. He was waiting for me to go home together, just like always. The sight warmed my heart; Spencer was so good to me.

But of course, Neal wouldn’t just leave without a bang. Walking past Spencer’s desk, he stopped for a second and said, “take care of her. She obviously needs you to get over me.”

Spencer looked up at him with wide eyes as he spoke and didn’t even respond before Neal had left into the elevator. Spencer turned his head and looked up at me.

We were on the way home to my apartment, just like always when we returned from a case. We sat there in silence, Spencer’s eyes focused intensely on the road as he was driving.

“Spencer?” I asked softly looking over at him. He just gave a tight-lipped hum in response.

“Can we talk? I assume you have questions, but you haven’t said anything yet.”

He cleared his voice before responding calmly and quietly, “I just didn’t want to discuss it at the office. There isn’t anything to talk about. I know about one of your exes now.”

“But what he said to you. And everything. It must-“ I huffed, “you look like it bothers you. Don’t you want to share what you’re feeling? Maybe I can help you process.”

Spencer gave me a quick glance, seemingly ignoring my concerned face with a cold expression.

“What do you want to hear? Do you want to hear how I keep thinking I’m not good enough for you, regardless of what happened today? How that just made me feel worse? Do you want to hear about how embarrassed I was when JJ told us that he is your ex-boyfriend and I, your current boyfriend, didn’t even know about it? Do you want to know about all the other things I’m imagining you hiding from me? How my mind is racing with all my insecurities that you already know about because I tell you things that bother me while you don’t?” he said, his voice getting louder and louder with each question while his grip on the steering wheel tightened.

“Do you want to know about how Morgan even commented on the fact that he is so different from me and your type has changed a lot? How do you think all that makes me feel? When it isn’t coming from you?” he continued angrily.

I didn’t know what to say. To be honest, I was a little speechless. I thought it would bother him, but not like this.

“See? That’s why I didn’t want to open up. It’s not like you have anything to say about it anyway,” he said, his tone ice-cold.

The rest of the car ride was silent. My mind was racing with things I could respond to him, but nothing came to mind. When we arrived at my apartment, I was surprised that he parked the car. I had assumed that after that speech he would just drop me off and go home alone.

Before I could move, Spencer had turned towards me and taken my hand into his gently.

“Can I come inside?” he asked softly, his demeanour completely different from before.

“Yes, of course, Spence,” I replied gently.

Upstairs in my apartment, we sat on the couch together.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier. I’m just really bothered by it. He is everything I’m not. He is attractive, charming, has a good style, and even just muscles. He is-“ Spencer began, but I cut him off.

“and he is a criminal. Listen, Spence, I completely understand how you feel. But, behind his attractive mask, there is so much more, that just isn’t attractive. To me, his personality wasn’t attractive. He didn’t treat me well and only cared about himself. He only cared about the lifestyle he wanted to lead and he could never let go of his criminal past.”

Spencer just looked up at me from his hunched position with his big brown puppy eyes.

“Plus, just because he is attractive doesn’t mean you’re not. God, I think you’re so hot. Your face, your hair, those sweater vests. You’re completely different from him, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t attractive. And when you use that big brain of yours to solve cases and explain things, that no one else knows and that most people don’t even understand. I think you’re incredibly attractive. And your intelligence is very charming, and-,” I began to ramble about all the things I loved about him.

But before I could continue speaking he had grabbed my face and kissed me on the lips passionately. His lips moved against mine, as his hands entangled in my hair. I almost moaned into his mouth as his tongue found mine and my hands reached for the back of his neck.

When we pulled apart, he was breathless and said with a slight pant, “so you think I’m really hot, huh?”

And I didn’t know how to respond to that in any other way than to just slip onto his lap and kiss him again.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #Criminal Minds #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds oneshot #criminal minds one shot #spencer reid one shot #white collar #neal caffrey #neal caffrey x reader #neal caffrey imagine

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castielli · 2 years ago

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How to request:

Send your request featuring the character you want, the plot (+ANGST, FLUFF…) and anything I need to know about the reader. I write MALE READER only

MASTERLISTS:

MOVIES/TV SHOWS

KDRAMA/KPOP

OCs PROFILE:

@nathan-ocs

Fandoms I write for under the cut!

——————————————

(a -> z)

BARBIE

Allan

Ken (Ryan)

Ken (Simu)

BROOKLYN99

Jake Peralta

Terry Jeffords

All the others (platonic only)

CALL OF DUTY (MW/WWII)

Alejandro Vargas

Alex Keller

Drew Stiles

Frank Aiello

Gaz Garrick

Ghost Riley

John Price

Joseph Turner

Phillip Graves

Red Daniels

Robert Zussman

Rudy Parra

Soap MacTavish

Vladimir Makarov

William Pierson

CRIMINAL MINDS

Luke Alvez

Penelope Garcia (platonic🫶)

Spencer Reid

DETROIT BECOME HUMAN

Connor

Gavin

Hank

Josh

Luther

Markus

RK900

Simon

DIVERGENT

Caleb Prior

Four

Peter

FANTASTIC BEASTS AND WHERE TO FIND THEM

Albus Dumbledore

Credence Barebone

Gellert Grindelwald (Mads Mikkelsen)

Newt Scamander

Theseus Scamander

FNAF (movie)

Mike Schmidt

Steve Raglan

GLADIATOR I / II

Caracalla

Commodus

Geta

Lucius Verus

Marcus Acacius

Maximus Decimus

Ravi

HARRY POTTER

Cedric Diggory

Charlie Weasley

Draco Malfoy

Fred Weasley

George Weasley

Neville Longbottom

Oliver Wood

Percy Weasley

Remus Lupin

Ron Weasley

Seamus Finnigan

Sirius Black

Tom Riddle

Viktor Krum

HUNGER GAMES

Cato

Coriolanus Snow (young)

Finnick Odair

Gale Hawthorne

Haymitch Abernathy

Marvel

Peeta Mellark

Sejanus Plinth

LA CASA DE PAPEL

Berlín

Denver

El Profesor

Palermo

Río

MARVEL (Avengers/X-men)

Alex Summers

Bobby Drake

Bruce Banner

Bucky Barnes

Charles Xavier

Clint Barton

Deadpool

Druig

Eddie Brock

Erik Lehnsherr

Hank McCoy

Ikaris

Jake Lockey

Loki Laufeyson

Marc Spector

Matt Murdock

Mobius M. Mobius

Peter Maximoff

Peter Parker (Tom/Andrew/Tobey)

Peter Quill

Phil Coulson

Pietro Maximoff

Quentin Beck/Mysterio

Sam Wilson

Scott Lang

Scott Summers

Shang-chi

Stephen Strange

Steve Rogers

Steven Grant

Thor Odinson

Tony Stark

Wanda Maximoff

Wolverine

MAZE RUNNER

Gally

Minho

Newt

Thomas

NCIS

Jimmy Palmer

Nicholas Torres

Timothy McGee

NOW YOU SEE ME

Chase McKinney

Dylan Rhodes

Jack Wilder

J. Daniel Atlas

Merritt McKinney

RIVERDALE

Archie Andrews

Chic

Fangs Fogarty

FP Jones

Hiram Lodge

Jughead Jones

Kevin Keller

Moose Mason

Reggie Mantle

Sweet Pea

SCREAM

Billy Loomis

Casey Becker

Dewey Riley

Randy Meeks

Sidney Prescott

Stu Macher

Tatum Riley

SHAMELESS

Carl Gallagher

Ian Gallagher

Kevin Ball

Lip Gallagher

Mickey Milkovich

SHERLOCK

Greg Lestrade

Jim Moriarty

John Watson

Mycroft Holmes

Sherlock Holmes

STAR WARS

Anakin Skywalker

Finn

Kylo Ren

Luke Skywalker

Obi-Wan Kenobi

Poe Dameron

STRANGER THINGS

Billy Hargrove

Dimitri

Eddie Munson

Jason Carver

Jim Hopper

Jonathan Byers

Robin Buckley (platonic)

Steve Harrington

SUITS

Harvey Specter

Mike Ross

SUPERNATURAL

Bobby (platonic)

Castiel

Chuck

Crowley

Dean Winchester

Sam Winchester

TEEN WOLF

Aiden Steiner

Corey Bryant

Danny Mahealani

Derek Hale

Ethan Steiner

Isaac Lahey

Jackson Whittemore

Jordan Parrish

Liam Dunbar

Mason Hewitt

Peter Hale

Scott McCall

Stiles Stilinski

Theo Raeken

THE BOYS

Billy Butcher

Frenchie

Homelander

Hughie Campbell

Soldier Boy

THE BOYS IN THE BAND

Alan McCarthy

Bernard

Cowboy

Donald

Emory

Hank

Harold

Larry

Michael

THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY (I still need to finish the last seasons🥱)

Ben Hargreeves

Diego Hargreeves

Klaus Hargreeves

Luther Hargreeves

Number Five

Viktor Hargreeves

THE WALKING DEAD (+TELLTALE GAME)

Aaron Raleigh

Abraham Ford

Daryl Dixon

Doug

Dwight

Eugene Porter

Glenn Rhee

Kenny

Lee Everett

Mark

Morgan Jones

Negan Smith

Paul Jesus Rovia

Rick Grimes

Shane Walsh

Simon

Spencer Monroe

The Governor

WHITE COLLAR

Clinton Jones

Mozzie (platonic)

Neal Caffrey

Peter Burke

911 (and LONE STAR)

Bobby Nash

Carlos Reyes

Eddie Diaz

Evan Buckley (Buck)

Howie Han (Chimney)

Jud Ryder

Mateo Chavez

Owen Strand

Paul Strickland

TK Strand

CHRISTIAN BALE

Bruce Wayne (Batman)

Patrick Bateman (American Psycho)

PEDRO PASCAL

Agent Whiskey (Kingsman)

Dieter Bravo (The Bubble)

Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

Francisco Morales (Triple Frontier)

Javi Gutierrez (The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent)

Javier Peña (Narcos)

Joel Miller (TLOU)

Marcus Moreno (We Can Be Heroes)

Oberyn Martell (Game of Thrones)

Silva (Strange Way of Life)

I WON’T WRITE:

-Smut (for anyone)

-R*pe

-Female readers/GN readers

-Suic*de

-inc*st

-Crossdressing

-Romantic/Suggestive stories for underage characters (only platonic, basically)

If the character you wanted to request is not on the list, you can try and ask me anyways.

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mi6-cafe · 5 years ago

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It’s Supportive Sunday!

Supportive Sunday is a day when we encourage you to support someone in the fandom!

There are lots of ways to do that:

Kudos something you like

A short comment (“Loved this!” or “Extra kudos!”)

A more detailed comment (“X made me laugh out loud!”)

Make a rec post

Send a creator a short anon ask about their work! (“What inspired X?”)

Send a reader who’s commented a short anon ask showing your appreciation! (“Your comments make my day!”)

Reblog this post with a rec

As part of Supportive Sundays, we’re also highlighting some fancreations with few comments that may be overlooked.

This week we’ve decided to shine spotlight on the works of a few of the people who have signed up for our 007 Fest for the first time. Everyone, go read and give lots of warm welcome to:

If You Were in Trouble by CoffeeAndDreams [Gen, Fluff]

"If you were in trouble, would you come to me?"

The question surprises Q. The answer surprises Bond.

[no romance, just caring, tw: depression]

Heart and Soul by Dino_Cattivo [00q, Hurt/Comfort]

While overseeing a mission Q hears a familiar melody which gets stuck in his head. Determined to get rid of this nuisance he tries to find out where he heard it before.

Master Drax and Mr Hinx by themuller [Hugo Drax & Mr. Hinx]

What to do when you survive certain death? Well, if at first you don't succeed, try, try again.

Fire in Tomorrow by epeeblade [White Collar xover, Bond/Neal - E]

The thing about being dead was that Neal Caffrey had no one to be beholden to anymore. No one to want to be good for. No one waiting for him at the flat he called home in the heart of Paris.

#mi6cafesupportivesunday #rec list #00q #gen #fluff #white collar #james bond

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witcherfic · 5 years ago

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Lex_K May 29, 2020 at 08:34AM

by Lex_K

I only write one-shots bc i cant complete a story to save my life so here is one-shots for characters i actually write, if you got something you want to see, feel free to ask and ill see if i can do it :)

i swear my grammar is better in my actual writing 😂

Words: 1703, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), White Collar, Star Trek: The Next Generation, Suits - Fandom, The Office - Fandom, Supernatural, Hannibal - Fandom, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Hobbit - All Media Types, Doctor Who, Harry Potter - Fandom, Bones, Merlin - Fandom, Torchwood, Lucifer (TV), Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Sherlock - Fandom, Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), X-Men - All Media Types, Good Omens, you - Fandom, Kingsman (Movies)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel, Gabriel, Crowley (Supernatural), Crowley (Good Omens), Chuck Shurley, Rowena MacLeod, Benny Lafitte, Arthur Ketch, Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham, Thranduil (Tolkien), Elrond Peredhel, Ninth Doctor, Tenth Doctor, Eleventh Doctor, Jack Harkness, Owen Harper, Severus Snape, Remus Lupin, Lance Sweets, Merlin (Kingsman), Merlin (Merlin), Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Gwaine (Merlin), Leon (Merlin), Percival (Merlin), Lancelot (Merlin), William Riker, Data (Star Trek), Jake Peralta, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Thor, Vision, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Spock (Star Trek), Leonard "Bones" McCoy, Sherlock, Mycroft - Character, Phil Coulson, Charles Xavier, Erik Lehnsherr, Hank McCoy, Harvey Specter, Arizaphale, Jim Halpert, Michael Scott, Neal Caffrey

Relationships: Dean Winchester/Reader, Sam Winchester/Reader, Castiel/Reader, Gabriel/Reader, Crowley/Reader, Chuck Shurley/Reader, Rowena/Reader, Benny Lafitte/reader, Arthur Ketch/Reader, Hannibal/Reader, Will Graham/Reader, Thranduil/Reader, Elrond/Reader, Ninth Doctor/Reader, Tenth Doctor/Reader, Eleventh Doctor/Reader, Jack Harkness/Reader, Owen Harper/Reader, Severus Snape/Reader, Remus Lupin/Reader, Lance Sweets/Reader, Merlin/Reader, arthur pendragon/reader, Gwaine/Reader, Sir Leon/Reader, Sir Percival/Reader, Sir Lancelot/Reader, William T. Riker/Reader, Data/Reader, Jake Peralta/Reader, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Reader, Tony Stark/Reader, Steve Rogers/Reader, Bucky Barnes/Reader, Natasha Romanov (Marvel)/Reader, Vision/Reader, Thor/Reader, Spock/Reader, Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Reader, Sherlock/Reader, Mycroft/Reader, Phil Coulson/Reader, Charles Xavier/Reader, Erik Lehnsherr/Reader, Hank McCoy/Reader, Harvey Specter/Reader, Arizaphale/Reader, Jim Halpert/Reader, Michael Scott/Reader, Neal Caffrey/Reader, Jaskier | Dandelion/Reader

Additional Tags: Smut, Fluff, Angst, i will update tags as i update, sorry if your character isnt written yet, i only tagged characters im actually gonna write so :), trigger warning, mentions of abuse, Childhood Abuse, be safe out there buddy

#witcher #witcher fic #fic recs #ao3feed

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ao3feed-goodomens · 5 years ago

Text

One-shots

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2zH9g8a

by Lex_K

i swear my grammar is better in my actual writing 😂

Words: 1703, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2zH9g8a

#ao3feed #fanfic #Good Omens

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maya-caffrey · 1 month ago

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hi hi hi writing request if you're up for it: can i get a neal caffrey x reader where they're undercover posing as a couple and things get too real too quick? fluffy angsty whatever, full creative liberty. thank you x -🌻

anon i would love to

This ain't the Chelsea hotel

pairing: neal caffrey x fem!reader words: 4.3k song: I'm writing this inspired by ttpd as you can tell, specifically the lyric "At dinner, you take my ring off my middle finger And put it on the one people put wedding rings on And that's the closest I've come to my heart exploding" summary: an undercover mission brings up some unresolved feelings a/n: this is sorta inspired by johnny and dora from Brooklyn 99, and there's sort of an angst ending i am sorry but it will get better soon i promise

"Neal and (Y/n), you’re going in as a couple.”

Peter’s voice was calm, authoritative, as if he’d just assigned them to file paperwork instead of infiltrating a high-society gala crawling with millionaires, con artists, and, somewhere in the crowd, an international art thief.

(Y/n) froze, mid-sip of her coffee. “I'm sorry, what now?”

Neal, of course, leaned back in his chair, smirk firmly in place. “I mean, it makes sense. Look at us—irresistible charm, devastating good looks—who wouldn’t buy it?”

“You forgot insufferable ego,” she shot back, slamming her cup on the table. It was aggravating to be around Neal Caffrey, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t love every second of it.

Peter held up a hand, cutting off the argument before it could spiral. “Enough. You’re the best fit for this assignment. The mark likes power couples, people who look like they’ve got secrets. Neal’s the smooth-talking art expert, and (Y/n)—you’ll play his fiancée, a curator from an old-money family.”

(Y/n) groaned, glaring at Peter. “You know this is going to go to his head.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Peter said dryly. “But you’ll manage. You always do.”

Neal turned to her, his smirk widening. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll go easy on you.”

"That's okay baby, I can handle you." No, she can't. This could end badly.

"Oooh, competition? you're gonna lose, you, know?"

"Hey, if I'm going down, I'm taking you down with me, Caffrey."

"Right, and one last thing. (Y/n), try not to fall in love with me."

"Won't be a problem."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"And you're promising, that this is strictly work?"

"I swear, Moz! It's not like that," Neal replied, pacing the length of his apartment, the small box in his hand feeling heavier than it had any right to.

"It's hard to believe that when you're holding a real diamond ring in your hand," Mozzie argued, incredulous about Neal's intentions in this case.

"It's for authenticity"

"Right, because the suspect would definitely notice if she wore a cheap American zirconia."

"Mozzie. It's not like that."

"I believe you"

"I don't think you do."

Mozzie didn’t respond, simply giving Neal a pointed look before taking a long sip of his wine.

Neal let out a sigh, his grip on the box tightening. He was done trying to convince Mozzie, who always had a knack for cutting to the heart of things Neal would rather not think about. Because as much as he repeated the words it was just for the case, a nagging voice in the back of his mind whispered that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t.

His gaze dropped to the ring, the glint of the diamond catching the light. It was just for authenticity. No ulterior motives.

Right?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Alright. The moment we enter that room we're on high alert. Peter and the team are in the surveillance van two blacks away to remain inconspicuous. He's usually after wealthy power couple types so we need to be really convincing. Got it?"

“Uh-huh. Yes,” Neal replied, nodding a little too quickly. His words were automatic, half-hearted at best, because his attention was decidedly elsewhere.

She looked stunning—more than stunning, really, though he would never admit it outright. The soft glint in her eyes caught the streetlights at just the right angle, making them sparkle for a fleeting moment before fading again. The dress she wore was elegant, understated, but perfectly fitted to the role they were about to play. Neal found himself momentarily mesmerized, the lines between the act and reality blurring just a bit more than they should have.

(Y/n) shot him a suspicious glance. “Neal. Focus.”

“Totally focused,” he said, his trademark grin sliding into place to cover the fact that he had absolutely not been paying attention to anything she’d just said.

She narrowed her eyes at him, but after a beat, she turned back toward the building looming ahead. “You’d better be. The second we step into that gala, we’re in character, and I’m not carrying this assignment on my own.”

“Of course not,” Neal quipped, following her lead, his voice taking on the smooth confidence he wore so well. “I’ll be the perfect fiancé. You’ll swoon. Just wait.”

She shook her head in surrender and walked towards the door before she felt a delicate hand pull at her wrist.

"Wait, I almost forgot," he said, taking out the velvet box that made his pocket weigh heavier than it should have.

"What?" she asked, completely oblivious.

"This," he said, flipping it open to reveal the princess-cut diamond ring inside. The sharp sparkle caught the light between them, but it was nothing compared to the flash of surprise in her eyes.

Her lips parted slightly, but no sound came out.

He swallowed, his heartbeat thrumming loudly in his ears as he took her left hand in his, the warmth of her skin making him falter for just a moment. His fingers brushed hers, gentle but deliberate, as he slid the ring onto her finger.

No break in eye contact.

Her gaze locked with his, questioning, searching, unsteady. The seconds stretched long, heavy with something unspoken, as his thumb brushed against the band, settling it into place.

Still no break.

The moment lingered, charged, as if the world had shrunk to just the two of them under the streetlight. His breath hitched, his confidence—usually so bulletproof—wavering under the weight of how utterly real this felt.

Neal shifted, suddenly nervous, but he didn’t step back. His eyes flicked to her lips, then back up to meet hers again, the line between fiction and reality blurring with dizzying speed.

Finally, he broke the silence with a soft, almost uncertain laugh, a hint of tension bleeding into his words. “For authenticity, right?”

(Y/n) blinked, the spell broken. Her lips curved into a small smile, but her voice was quieter than usual when she replied. “Right. Authenticity.”

But neither of them moved for a moment longer, caught in the fallout of something they couldn’t quite name. If this was just pretend, why did it feel so real?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They entered the grand ballroom arm-in-arm, the weight of their roles pressing against them. Neal’s hand rested lightly at the small of (Y/n)’s back, his touch electric even through the layers of fabric.

“You’re tense,” he whispered, lips brushing her ear, sending shivers down her spine. She instinctively closed her eyes and let it linger before remembering she had to respond.

“You try wearing a dress and pretending to be in love with you all evening,” she shot back, her voice sweetened by a practiced smile for the benefit of their audience.

Neal leaned closer, the humor in his tone giving way to something deeper. “You’d be surprised how easy that could be.”

"The dress or-"

"The last part. Obviously the last part."

"Just making sure," she responded, stifling a laugh. Remembering why they were here in the first place, she quickly scanned the room, she found their mark in the middle of the dance floor.

"Neal, 2'o clock, dance floor."

"Yeah, I see him. You ready?"

"Do, I have an option?"

Neal extended his hand, a devilish glint in his eyes as he slipped seamlessly into his role. “In that case, (Y/n), may I have this dance?”

(Y/n) smirked just for a moment, his outstretched hand a reminder of the precarious game they were playing. She placed her hand in his, his fingers warm and steady as they led her toward the dance floor. “Let’s get ourselves a criminal,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady.

The music swelled, slow and haunting, wrapping around them as Neal’s hand slid to her waist. His fingers pressed against the fabric of her dress, firm but careful, like he was afraid to break something fragile. His other hand cradled hers, his thumb brushing the back of her hand with maddening lightness.

“You’re holding on a little tight there, don’t you think?” she teased softly, her voice catching when his eyes locked on hers, warm and unflinching.

“Just making sure you don’t get away,” he replied, his words playful, but his tone laced with something heavier.

They moved in sync, the world around them dimming until it felt like the music existed just for them. Each step brought her closer, the space between them dissolving until her chest almost brushed against his. His breath was warm against her temple, and her head tilted slightly, just enough for her to catch the faint, intoxicating scent of his cologne.

“You’re good at this,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

“It’s just part of the job,” she whispered back, though her words wavered under the intensity of his gaze.

“Right,” he said, his hand slipping a fraction lower on her waist. “Just the job.”

Her pulse quickened as his fingers tightened slightly, drawing her closer still. Their faces were mere inches apart now, his eyes flicking to her lips for the briefest of moments before returning to hers. The tension between them was almost unbearable, charged and unspoken.

(Y/n) swore he was about to say something—something real, something that would tip this balance they always stalled on—but his gaze shifted over her shoulder.

“(Y/n),” he said abruptly, his tone cooling as his eyes fixed on something behind her.

(Y/n) blinked, the spell breaking as she followed his line of sight. Their mark stood on the edge of the dance floor, watching them with quiet intensity.

“He’s noticed us,” Neal said, his hand loosening its hold on her waist.

“Good,” she replied, her voice steadier than she felt. “That’s the idea.”

And just like that, they were back in the game, palpable tension vanishing into thin air.

As the song came to an end, the mark stepped toward them with his date, a woman dripping in diamonds and disdain.

“Charming performance,” the mark said smoothly, offering a practiced smile. “You two must be new faces around here.”

“Guilty as charged,” Neal said with a grin, slipping effortlessly into his persona. “We’ve just been admiring the company.”

“Why don’t you join us on the rooftop?” the mark offered, gesturing toward the glass doors that led to a private terrace. “It’s quieter. Easier to talk.”

Neal and (Y/n) exchanged a quick glance before following. On the way, Neal caught her glancing at her hand, her thumb brushing lightly over the diamond ring he had slipped on earlier.

“Admiring your fiancé’s taste, sweetheart?” he teased under his breath, his voice tinged with both humor and something sharper.

(Y/n) jerked her gaze away, her cheeks warming. “Just making sure it looks convincing,” she muttered, but the way her hand lingered over the ring betrayed her words.

Neal leaned closer, his smirk softening. “It looks perfect. You look perfect.”

The heat in her cheeks deepened, but before she could respond, the doors opened, and the crisp night air swept over them. They stepped onto the terrace, the stakes of their mission suddenly more palpable than ever.

The mark led them to a table on the edge of the terrace, a private spot where the city lights shimmered below. He took a seat, his date following suit, and Neal and (Y/n) joined them. The air was cool, and the tension in the space was almost tangible. The mark’s eyes flicked between them, his gaze assessing, calculating.

“So,” he began, his voice smooth, “tell me, how did you two meet? I’m always curious about these stories."

Neal leaned back in his chair, putting on his best charming smile. “It was one of those chance encounters, really,” he began. “I was at an auction, looking at some early Renaissance pieces when she walked in—just like that.” He snapped his fingers, his eyes glinting. “She had this aura about her—class, confidence, and this fire in her eyes that made me want to get to know her. I knew the moment I saw her, I’d never let her slip through my fingers.

Y/n) raised an eyebrow, a little taken aback by how smooth he was. “Not exactly how I remember it,” she replied, her tone light but sharp. “He was chasing after a piece of art that had already been sold. I caught him, and after some back-and-forth, we ended up negotiating a deal. And well, the rest, as they say, is history.”

The mark chuckled, intrigued. “So, love at first sight then?”

Neal and (Y/n) exchanged a glance, both knowing that this was the moment they had to sell it. Neal leaned forward, his voice dropping a notch as he spoke to the mark.

“There’s something about her. Something that keeps me coming back, you know?” he said, his eyes never leaving (Y/n)'s face. “She’s strong, sharp—doesn’t take crap from anyone. And that’s something you don’t find every day.”

(Y/n) turned toward him, her heart beating a little faster at the raw honesty in his words. She wasn’t sure if it was part of the act or something real underneath it, but the heat between them flickered for a second.

“And what do you see in him?” the mark asked, his tone now laced with genuine curiosity.

(Y/n) hesitated for a moment, unsure how to answer without giving away too much of her own feelings, but when she looked into Neal’s eyes, something clicked. They were here together, playing a part in a dangerous game, but the way he was looking at her made her forget that for a second. She could feel the weight of his gaze, the vulnerability he was letting slip, just for her.

“I see someone who challenges me,” she replied, her voice softer than usual. “Someone who pushes me to be better. And, you know, someone who’s got this charm that… well, it works on me. I’m not proud of it.”

Neal’s grin spread, his eyes flashing with something unreadable. “Works on me too,” he said, his voice lower now, as if the words were meant for her alone. “We balance each other out. When I'm with her, I feel complete, you know?”

The mark seemed satisfied with their answers, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You two really are a convincing pair. Almost makes me believe in the whole ‘love at first sight’ thing," he laughed. His date, lost in her phone, barely seemed to notice, leaving the moment to hang between them.

Neal glanced at (Y/n), an almost imperceptible shift in his expression as he studied her. There was something different in the way she held herself tonight. She was usually the composed one, but now… he couldn’t quite read the look in her eyes.

“So, what happens next?” the mark asked, his voice smooth, as he leaned back in his chair.

Neal tilted his head, his smile never faltering. “Now? Now we enjoy the view.” He gestured out toward the city lights that sparkled beneath them, a million possibilities flashing in the distance. “What’s a good evening without a little bit of beauty to go with it?”

(Y/n) nodded, her fingers tracing the edge of her wine glass absently. “And a little danger, I’d say,” she added, her voice laced with a quiet challenge.

The mark raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Danger, huh? What’s dangerous about a couple like you two?”

Neal chuckled, but it was a touch colder this time, more calculated. He turned his eyes on (Y/n), watching the way she tilted her head, as if she was on the edge of saying something important. Then, with a glance that felt almost too intimate, he spoke again. “We’ve got a history, you know? We don’t talk about it much, but we both know... some things you don’t just walk away from.”

(Y/n) blinked, her breath catching at his words. She hadn’t expected him to go that far with the act. The sincerity behind it—whether it was all for the mission or something more—hit her unexpectedly. But she kept her face neutral, answering with equal weight. “Yeah. Some things... they follow you.”

The air between them thickened, the words hanging heavy in the space. The mark watched them, an unreadable expression on his face as he exchanged glances with his date. It wasn’t quite suspicion, but something deeper. Curiosity, maybe. Or recognition. But before anything could be said, the mark stood, taking a step toward the edge of the terrace.

“You two are something else,” he said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m going to grab another drink. You stay here.”

Neal and (Y/n) exchanged a glance, one that said everything without needing words. As soon as the mark and his date were distracted by the bar, they slipped away. It wasn’t much—just enough of a gap for them to make their move. They walked quickly, low and quiet, blending into the flow of people.

They passed a row of velvet curtains and slipped behind them, into a hallway that led to the back stairwell. The sound of voices echoed from the main room, but it was the sound of a briefcase being handed over that caught Neal’s attention.

There he was—the mark, shaking hands with someone in a dark suit. The transaction was swift, almost too clean. Neal’s eyes narrowed.

“Something’s off,” he whispered to (Y/n), barely audible.

But before they could pull back into the shadows, a shift in the mark’s posture had him looking their way. Neal froze, his gaze locking with the mark’s. There was a flicker of recognition in the man’s eyes, followed by a narrowing of his gaze.

In that moment, they both knew they had been spotted.

Neal didn’t hesitate. He grabbed (Y/n)’s wrist, pulling her in close. “Trust me on this,” he muttered, his breath warm against her ear.

Before she could even respond, his lips found hers in a kiss that was far from gentle. It was urgent—desperate, even, and as their bodies pressed closer, the danger of being caught only made it more intense. Their kiss was a cover, an act. But damn, it felt real. The mark was approaching them now, too close for comfort, but Neal barely registered the thought. He pushed her against the nearest wall and "got carried away" as he traveled towards her neck. Her hands found his hair, gently playing with them, for the act, of course.

(Y/n)’s heart raced as the world around them seemed to blur. They were acting, but in that moment, there was a sense of something more—something raw beneath the surface. He left her neck and locked her yes in a gaze, before returning back to her lips. Her pulse thudded in her ears, and when Neal pulled away, her lips felt like they were still burning from the kiss.

The mark was now standing just a few feet away, his brow furrowed in confusion but not yet suspicious enough to call them out. Neal, ever the charmer, quickly recovered, a half-smile spreading across his face.

“Sorry,” he said, voice low and teasing. “Got carried away. But you know how it is, right?” He gestured to (Y/n), his hand slipping possessively around her waist as he spoke directly to the mark, hoping his calm demeanor would sell the story.

The mark studied them for a beat, a silent assessment passing between them. Finally, he shook his head, smirking. “You two really are something else, huh.”

Neal’s grin stretched wider, eyes flicking to (Y/n) for just a moment, as if to say: We’re good.

They turned, following the mark back into the chaos of the night, but the weight of what just happened settled between them—unspoken, but palpable.

The sound of pounding footsteps echoed through the terrace as the FBI moved in, swarming around them with practiced efficiency. Neal felt the brief rush of adrenaline still pumping in his veins, but now it was mixed with something else. He and (Y/n) had done their job, the mark had fallen into their trap, and the briefcase—the one they’d been waiting for—was in his hands, a key piece of evidence that sealed the deal.

But then, there was that kiss.

It had been... unexpected. Real. No longer just an act.

The team moved quickly, surrounding the mark, taking him into custody. Peter gave Neal a brief, knowing nod before he led the mark away. He didn’t say anything; the job was done. The mission was complete. But Neal’s mind wasn’t on the bust. He was focused on (Y/n), the way her breath had caught when their lips met, the look in her eyes that he couldn’t quite place.

Once the area had cleared and the sound of distant voices faded, he turned to her. (Y/n) was leaning against the railing, her arms crossed tightly as she stared out over the city, the glow of the streetlights flickering in the distance. There was a cold distance in her posture that wasn’t there before, a wall he hadn’t seen her put up.

Neal swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “(Y/n)...”

She didn’t look at him right away. When she did, her gaze was unreadable. “We did our job, Neal. That’s what matters.”

There was a tightness in her voice, the way she was shutting down again, retreating behind the walls she always kept so perfectly in place. It made his chest tighten.

“I know,” Neal replied, his voice softer. “But that kiss…” He trailed off, unsure of how to continue. He was a conman, a man who lived in deception. But that kiss—that had felt different.

(Y/n) sighed, pushing herself off the railing and turning to face him fully. “It’s part of the job, Neal. You know that. It’s always part of the job.”

Her words were clipped, but her eyes betrayed her. They were too wide, too vulnerable, like she was trying to convince herself as much as she was convincing him. Neal didn’t buy it. Not this time.

“Is it?” he asked quietly, his voice low, almost hesitant. “Because that didn’t feel like part of the job to me. It felt like—” He stopped himself, trying to find the right words. “Like something real.”

Her expression flickered, just for a moment, like she was considering telling him something—something more than what she was letting on. But she quickly masked it, her gaze hardening again.

“It wasn’t real, Neal,” she said, her voice sharp, like the edge of a blade. “It was a job. You know that.”

Neal’s breath hitched. “But what if it was? What if it wasn’t just the mission? What if we’re both—” He cut himself off, staring at her, his chest suddenly tight with a feeling he couldn’t quite shake. “Look, I don’t want to make this more complicated than it has to be. But I can’t just act like that kiss was nothing. I can’t pretend it didn’t mean something.”

(Y/n) took a step back, her jaw clenched, clearly struggling with something she wasn’t ready to face. “You’re just confused, Neal,” she said, her words laced with frustration. “We’re good at what we do. We can sell this. We can sell anything. But that kiss? It doesn’t mean what you think it does.”

Neal shook his head, his frustration matching hers. “Why do I feel like you’re trying so hard to convince me of that?”

She stepped forward, her eyes locking onto his. There was no hiding now. “Because I don’t need you to start thinking that this is something more than it is,” she said, her voice shaking just a little. “I don’t need to feel like I’m... I’m letting you in. I don’t want that. We can’t have that.”

“Why not?” Neal asked, his voice quieter now, softer. “Why can’t we have that?”

For a moment, (Y/n) didn’t say anything. She just looked at him, as if trying to find the words to explain something she couldn’t. She wanted to—he could see it in her eyes—but something held her back, something she was afraid to admit.

“Because I can’t,” she finally said, her voice trembling with something raw, something real. “Because I can’t let you in, Neal. I can’t let myself... care. I’ve spent too long keeping everything at arm's length. It’s easier that way. It’s safer that way.”

Neal felt his heart twist. He had no answers, no solutions. He couldn’t fix this. He wasn’t sure if he even wanted to.

But as the silence stretched between them, he couldn’t just let it go. “So, what happens now?” he asked quietly. “Do we just go back to being... partners? Nothing more, nothing less?”

(Y/n) looked away, biting her lip as she thought it over. “I don’t know,” she said finally. “I don’t know if we can just go back to what we were before. But we have to try.”

Neal didn’t argue. He couldn’t. There was too much at stake. Too much left unsaid.

“I don’t think either of us can walk away from this without something changing,” he said, the words coming out as more of a confession than a statement.

Her eyes flickered to his again, softer now. “Maybe that’s true,” she murmured. “But that doesn’t mean we can act on it.”

Neal took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I don’t know what’s happening between us, (Y/n). But I don’t think I can just pretend it’s nothing anymore.”

She nodded slowly, her gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before meeting his eyes one last time. “Neither can I,” she said quietly, as she took off her ring and placed it in his hand.

And then, before either of them could say more, Peter’s voice echoed from behind them, sharp and thunder-like.

“Jesus Christ, what happened in this mission?” Peter inquired, leaning against the doorframe, clearly amused.

Neal shot him a glare, but there was no real heat behind it. Peter was just being Peter. But as the moment lingered, both Neal and (Y/n) knew the truth. They had crossed a line. They’d let the job get too close. And now, whatever happened next… they couldn’t go back to pretending it was just a mission anymore.

a/n: I hope you liked it, this was my first request so I got carried away T_T, I'll make a part 2 for closure if this does well <3

#white collar #neal caffrey #neal caffrey x reader fluff #neal caffrey x reader #neal caffrey fluff #white collar x reader #peter burke #maya writes #requested #🌻 anon

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series-obsessed · 6 years ago

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This is just the sweetest!! 😍😍

It Started With Coffee....

A/N: Shanna, the wonderful owner of @sdavid09 decided to host a “What if…” challenge. This is my third entry out of three prompts that I requested. My prompt was “What if you were a secretary at the FBI and Neal goes overboard while trying to impress you?”. This is my first foray into writing for White Collar so be kind to me with any criticisms please!

Word Count: 835

Pairing: Neal Caffrey x Reader

Warnings: None.

———————————————————————————————————-

Your role as a secretary within the Department of White Collar Crime brought you into daily contact with Neal Caffrey. You often found yourself assisting him when he stood in front of the file cabinets, staring at them as if he had no idea of how the system worked. You typed his reports, helped him fine tune his understanding of how the team functioned and, more importantly, treated him as more than just an ex-con. You saw him for the wonderful man that he was - the man that, without fail, made you smile each and every day.

It seemed obvious to everyone, including you, that Neal had developed somewhat of a crush on you. You’d have been lying to yourself if you said you didn’t feel the same way. You were, after all, of a similar age to him and your interests ran along the same lines; art, foreign travel, good food and drink…..all things you and Neal could wax lyrical about for hours on end. His feelings towards you soon became the highlight of office gossip and impossible for others to ignore. Working in a relatively small team came with its downsides as well as its benefits, one of those downsides being that everyone knew everyone else’s business! The fact that Neal had taken an interest in you, and that you weren’t exactly pushing him away, was all that anyone seemed to discuss over the water cooler.

It started with coffee. Over the course of the first few weeks, ever since Neal had joined the division, you had bonded over your love of good coffee and now, every morning saw a travel mug filled with a delicious Italian roast placed on your desk, waiting for your arrival. More often than not, it was also accompanied by some form of delicious pastry treat.

Keep reading

#taleteller's what if challenge #neal caffrey x reader #neal caffrey #white collar #white collar reader insert #white collar x reader #fluff #fic recommendation #fic rec #Cute

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ao3feed-thehobbit · 5 years ago

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One-shots

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2zH9g8a

by Lex_K

i swear my grammar is better in my actual writing 😂

Words: 1703, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2zH9g8a

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #the hobbit

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white-collar-lawmen-and-conmen · 2 years ago

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Booksweet

Summary: Neal loses your page in a book and spends two weeks making it up to you.

Word Count: 4,417

Requested by anonymous

The air was so smoky it was cloying, sandwiching layers of cigar ash and cologne with the bitter punch of a whiskey sour drifting from the fan. The caress of Dixieland jazz danced through your ears while your eyes peered through a thin veil, just heavy enough to render your face unidentifiable in the sexy orange lighting. Everything was so much, you could hardly bear to breathe in fully. What if, once you welcomed the otherworldly life into your body, you could never turn back to what you’d known before?

Who were you kidding – your fate was already sealed with the same wax that had stamped his letter. To turn back was to turn your back on the man who’d shown you what heights you could dare to rise to; was to return to a lifetime of shoes you’d long outgrown by walking miles in the paces of bolder women.

Heat rose to your face in a flush as the scotch settled in your stomach, and a likewise warmth made itself known just to your left as you’d turned your head to the right. “Almost didn’t pick you out, darlin’.”

His rich Irish tone had you suck in on the smoke and bite your lip. You hoped gloss didn’t rub onto your teeth. You were suddenly all too conscious of the liquor heat and prayed that it didn’t travel further south. A voice like that could deafen a lady to that of reason.

“How’d I give myself away?” You replied quietly, tilting your head to look longingly at the saxophonist, watching his long fingers climb skillfully up the length of his instrument. The airs of the South didn’t come naturally – each word was an act of theater as it slid off your tongue.

“Well,” the gentleman – certainly not the most fitting title for him, if he was who you thought – paused for a moment, ensuring you hung on the edges of his words. “You should look up once in a while.”

What? Where had his accent gone? That’s not in the book.

The inner world you’d painstakingly constructed page after page was ripped away as your book was pulled from your hands. You lifted your head to demand it back and found Neal closing it to read the front. The ribbon bookmark that came with the hardback copy was left dangling down the back.

“Neal!” You snapped, coming back to reality with an embarrassed flush. As a child, you’d mastered the skill of daydreaming vividly while your body worked on autopilot, and it appeared your coworker saw fit to thrust you back into manual command on the elevator.

“Wildflower Trails,” Neal said the name of the book out loud, glancing back at you with an eyebrow raised in playful judgment. “Going for a leisurely jaunt in the roaring twenties?”

“I was, until some clown stole it out of my hands and lost my page,” you fumed, grabbing it by the spine and forcefully taking it away. You usually got on great, but you couldn’t get your mind around how rude it was to yank your book right out of your hands like that – and to lose your page on top of it! He didn’t even have the decency to mark it for you?

To his credit, he let go of it immediately when you took it back, but it was too little, too late. The thief leaned in towards the gleaming silver of the elevator doors to vainly look at his reflection. “Clown?” He repeated jokingly. “So you’re saying I overdid it with the concealer?” Instead of playing along, you just glared at his face reflected in the doors. Neal stopped, stood straight, and looked down the couple of inches at you with surprise. “Are you really mad about this?”

“I was in the middle of an important scene,” you said hotly in answer.

The blue-eyed man put both hands up in a gesture of innocence. You knew him, and what had just happened, well enough to see right through it. The elevator slowed as you reached your floor and you ground your teeth together, sliding your book back into your bag. Now you wouldn’t be able to find your page, much less reconstruct your jazz venue and find out what happened, until at least your lunch break. There had only been a couple of pages left, too!

As soon as the doors parted, you were striding through to get away from Neal. The conman-turned-consultant called a meek apology to you as you left, but you pretended not to hear. You had a playful relationship, but he took it too far. Until you knew whether or not Eva found the lost diary, you had no interest in making things square with the guy who ruined it for you the first time around.

~~ Booksweet ~~

Although you forgave Neal for his transgressions by the end of that day, and apologized for overreacting at the same time, he was distant from you for the rest of the week. It was a sad realization you’d come to on a Wednesday afternoon, when he turned down your offer to have lunch together at the bistro with the paninis he liked. It surprised you, too, that he was upset with you still, when so much seemed to just roll off, like his jacket was covered in invisible, streamlined feathers – but he was entitled to be upset with you after how angry you’d been over what, with hindsight, you knew was a small thing.

You missed his company more than you thought you would. The two of you were playful, usually teasing and ribbing each other whenever you had to interact, but also genuinely friendly. You were friendly with other people at your job, but it would’ve been a lie to say that you didn’t have a particular favorite. And that favorite spent the week keeping to himself, occupying the free time you might’ve spent talking with a small Kindle that kept him notably busy whenever you thought about approaching.

There were days when you thought – hoped – that maybe the reason he was your favorite was because there was a spark between you. Chemistry. For every logical part of you that said you shouldn’t nurture a crush on a coworker, the part of you that wanted company and imagined having a romantic partner increasingly fantasized about a template molded around Neal. That was probably why it stung when he kept away from you. Stung so much, in fact, that someone else noticed, to your utter mortification.

Diana was even sharper than tacks, to modify the phrase, and nothing ever seemed to get past her. She leaned over the counter of the kitchenette, her elbow on the surface and her arm curled around her coffee to mind the mug. Casually, she said as you entered, “I see your playdate’s been cancelled.”

Internally, you swore and tried to threaten your cheeks with dire consequences if they turned red. Professionalism, woman, you scolded yourself. “Sorry?” You said, hoping against hope that Neal’s ease at convincingly lying had rubbed off on you.

By the roll of her eyes, it didn’t. “A few girlfriends and I are going to go check out the new exhibit in the Met. One of Christy’s invites got scheduled on call tomorrow. Do you want to fill the slot for us?”

Pity invites were the last thing you needed. In fact, it was even more embarrassing. Did the office think you’d been dumped? On the other hand, you’d spent the week feeling guilty and lonely, eating lunches at your desk or at a two-top table without a number two. Getting out of your apartment over the weekend could only be a good idea.

“Come on,” Diana said before you answered, seeing you pause and giving you a coaxing smile. “We made reservations already, you’ll round out our party.”

“Sure I won’t be cramping the style?” You asked good-naturedly, forcing some cheer and playfulness into your voice to match hers.

“Please,” she said, waving off the concern and blowing steam away from her mug. “If you don’t come, I’ll be the only fed. That’s a cramped style.”

You let her get a real grin out of you at that. You knew all too well how awkward that could be when conversations turned towards work lives. If the crowd was hyper-critical of law enforcement, or even just if you were the only one with a job outside of their industry, it stemmed the chit chat.

With that decided, Diana made sure you had each other’s phone numbers and promised to text with details of when and where to meet on Saturday. You got your salad out of the communal fridge and went back to your desk with a smile, glancing only briefly at Neal when you passed his desk. He was still deeply focused on his Kendle while munching on a sandwich. That was okay, you told yourself optimistically. You could be patient until he was ready to talk and put it in the past. In the meantime, you didn’t have to be lonely and sorry for yourself.

The week ended without much, if any, improvement on the front with Neal, but he did text you to see if you got home safely on Friday, which you took as a small win. Then you enjoyed a calm night in your favorite fashion: a warm bath, a soft robe, and a good book. That novel carried you into the early hours of Saturday morning, when you crashed hard and slept in until brunch. After a hearty breakfast, you caught up on your favorite shows that had aired new episodes over the week while playing some idle games on your phone. When it was finally time to go meet with Diana and her friends, you’d started to get restless to leave the apartment again, so the timing worked out pretty well.

You met Diana and four other women by the Sabrett stand that was almost always parked outside the museum’s grand front steps. There was Christy, who you’d met once before; Laura and Anna, both nurses at the same hospital; and Erin, a friend of theirs from med school who’d become a clinical researcher. Christy and Diana naturally stuck together, but you found that you and Anna had some shared interests and Erin’s work was pretty interesting, so you had a good time walking through the museum, reading the plaques, sharing commentary, and getting to know them.

The dinner afterwards wasn’t what you’d envisioned when you pictured a restaurant that needed reservations, but the staff had to push two tables together to accommodate a party of six. It turned out to be Laura’s suggestion, and they had some pretty great food. The portions were small for the price, in your opinion, but the food you had tasted so good that you’d be willing to come back. For the most part, the discussion went around travel and culture, referencing back to the exhibits and the desperation for a vacation that you all apparently shared.

All in all, it was a lovely evening, even if it had pushed you out of your comfort zone to be so social with so many people you barely knew, and you thanked them all for letting you fill in, but especially Diana for inviting you. After dinner, they added you to a group text so everyone could check in when they got home safely. After you sent that message, still with your back leaning against the inside of your front door, you checked your notifications for anything else and tried not to be disappointed that there was nothing from Neal.

You sighed, immediately disappointed with yourself. You went and spent an entire day giving yourself a decompression and reboot treatment, and couldn’t even get to bed without worrying again about the guy who wasn’t even your boyfriend, and might never be. A small voice in your head told you that it shouldn’t be a problem to worry about a friend, no matter how else you felt about him, but you also knew that he was occupying far more of your emotional energy than any other friend would.

“Ah, well, try again tomorrow,” you said to yourself quietly, locking the door and heading into your studio, where you stopped short at the view of your coffee table.

Sitting in a vase you definitely didn’t own was a bouquet of flowers you definitely didn’t order. Six thornless roses, petals pressed together beautifully so their varied colors complemented one another; orange, lilac, light and dark pink, the classic red, and a lovely yellow with crimson tips. They made you gasp quietly, recognizing the custom bouquet by its description in a book. In Better Liars, the main character McKenna is given specially dyed roses by her soulmate in an artistic and subtle show of love.

The roses weren’t all that sat in the vase, though. Tucked alongside the stems was a short, thin branch with long and narrow leaves, dotted with small grapes. You reached out very gently to touch the petals of the roses, and as you ran the tip of your finger along the feather-soft tips, you realized that they weren’t grapes. They were olives. It was a literal olive branch. That wasn’t part of the gesture in the book – it was especially for you.

There was only one person who would go to the lengths to do this, and you shook your head fondly as you thought of all the time he’d been avoiding you. You took out your phone and pulled up your text history to write a new message: I forgave you ages ago. Lunch Monday?

A moment later, you received a smiley emoticon in response and grinned to yourself, sinking down onto the couch to stare at the multicolored roses with adoration. Your heart fluttered. He must have gone so far out of his way to do this – remembering the name of a book he’d seen you with, reading or skimming it himself, and then jumping through the hoops of actually getting the roses dyed the right colors… it was the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for you. It didn’t matter that it was a copy of someone else’s gestures because it was copied from a book, derived from a passion that you held close to your chest. If anything, that made it more romantic.

If only he’d meant it to be romantic. You’d have been thrilled even if he’d left the olives out of the arrangement.

~~ Booksweet ~~

Come Monday, everything was back to normal. Neal still stuck to his desk and read on his Kindle when he finished the work he’d been assigned (until Peter noticed he wasn’t working, of course), but you started taking lunches together and talking on your way into and out of the building. That evening, Neal waited while you stayed a few minutes late to finish the document you were editing so he could walk with you to the subway station.

“That story you were reading last week,” he said conversationally as you exited the building. The thief was walking on your left, and his right arm came up around your lower back to rest his hand very gently on your sweater. “Did you know there’s a sequel?”

You grinned sheepishly. “Riverwalk. Yes, I may have read it over the weekend.”

Neal hummed, starting to smile down at you. He looked away as if to stop you from seeing his pleased expression, but it was too late.

“Why?” You asked, almost hopeful. “Did you want to read it?” You loved sharing books and being able to talk about them.

“I’m working through it,” he answered, taking out his Kindle. He unlocked the screen and showed you the page of a digital book; Riverwalk was written across the top, along with a page number in the low nineties. “What’s with you and dramas?”

You shrugged. “Your life’s more exciting than mine. I use fiction to get a fix.” You’d worked some memorable cases, but rarely did you have the seniority or the skill to be in the heat of things. Besides, you didn’t pick a favorite genre based on what was already in your life. You liked the vicarious emotional experiences just as much as the sense of adventure.

“I could use a little less excitement sometimes,” Neal said with a wistful sigh. As you left Federal Plaza behind, the sign for the subway drew closer, and unfortunately, you had to get on different trains. Anticipating your different paths, Neal put his Kindle away and brushed his hand across your back again. You couldn’t quite tell if he was being so touchy deliberately or not. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N. Ride safely.”

“You, too,” you said, fastening your grip on your bag, unsure what else to do with your hands. Your feet itched to follow him, or to go up on your toes to kiss his cheek goodbye. Instead of either, you did nothing except watch him swipe his MTA card and take a sharp turn towards the subway line heading northwest.

~~ Booksweet ~~

At home, you perused your bookshelves, looking for another title to pull out. Your eyes glanced over the paperback copy of Riverwalk where it sat next to its prequel. It was still surprising that Neal had already bought it, and presumably finished Wildflower Trails – and, based on the roses, possibly read Better Liars, too. Was that what he had been doing all week during his lunch breaks? You couldn’t lie – your heart sped up a bit at the possibility that he had been putting so much time into your interests, particularly with the end goal of making the sweet gesture he had.

It couldn’t have been the end goal, though. If it had been, he wouldn’t still be working through the two-part series. You pursed your lips in thought, but decided it wasn’t up to you to overanalyze. He had upset you and more than made it up to you. He probably just got hooked on the premise, just like you did; after all, you had excellent taste in novels.

~~ Booksweet ~~

Another week passed at work, much faster and brighter than the last. Diana gave you a knowing grin when she saw you and Neal eating at his desk while talking about the ending of Riverwalk on Thursday afternoon. The conman was reluctant to admit, but he saw what enthralled you so much with the story – but made sure to make the point that he thought the first book was better.

“Writing on the water?” He said skeptically, giving you a judgmental look. “It’s not a still body. By the time you could use jet wake to leave the letters, they’d have been distorted or washed away already.”

“Lakewalk didn’t have the same ring,” you said smartly, rolling your eyes. “That’s not the point.”

“It’s ridiculous,” Neal insisted.

You shook your head. “I’m revoking your ‘hopeless romantic’ card,” you announced.

The man chuckled, his cheeks dimpling adorably. You smiled across the desk at him and tried to force the expression away before it turned from a fond look into a longing stare. Neal polished off his soup and started collecting your trash for the bin by his desk, and you grabbed a spare napkin to wipe all crumbs and drink condensation off his table. Even once he had a clean workspace again, you lingered, hoping to prolong your break just by a couple more minutes.

“Hey,” he said before you had to start improvising. “Samantha has a soccer game on Sunday. Care to be my plus one?”

The idea of Neal sitting in the park during midday heat was too good to pass up. Had you ever seen him in clothes that didn’t come with a tie pin? Surely he wouldn’t wear a full suit to a soccer game. Would his hair product even survive? There were too many questions to miss out on the opportunity, even if you hadn’t already been looking for an excuse to spend more time with him.

“Sure,” you said gamely, giving him a big smile. “I’ll keep the soccer moms off of you.”

“Oh, they wouldn’t want me,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “I’d be a bad influence on their children.” He bounced his knee obnoxiously to indicate the ankle monitor strapped around his leg. “But if you’re there, I won’t be the only one who doesn’t know what the rules are.”

“That’s true, I’m not very good at following sports,” you conceded.

With the plans made, you went back to work in good spirits. Friday passed almost the same, except your lunch was cut short when Peter took Neal out of the office to pursue a lead. They didn’t come back until it was less than an hour until official work hours ended, and both looked very intent on whatever they had found, so you didn’t try to interrupt. You had his phone number and could talk over the weekend.

A week after you’d first received the roses, it was about time to admit that they were looking worse for wear. The bright dyes had helped disguise some of the wilting, but it was starting to look more obvious. That little bouquet had brought a smile to your face every day for a week. It was the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for you, and it had been done for you by Neal. Putting the flowers in the trash was going to be a hurdle, so you plucked the most ragged petals off and put it off for a couple days longer. At least you could keep the vase indefinitely.

On Sunday, you arranged to meet on the sidewalk by the subway station near the park. When you showed up in a light, comfortable outfit with sunglasses and sunscreen, you were nearly blown out of your socks to see Neal was wearing a tee shirt. Well, that was one question answered. He made it look effortlessly good. It almost made you jealous. Thankfully, he was waiting with a couple of iced coffees, and one of them literally had your name written on it.

“You’re actually my favorite person,” you gushed gratefully, taking a long, cold drink.

“You’re in my top five,” he replied with a completely straight face. When you were done drinking, you gave him a scowl and he broke into a sweet grin, nudging you with his elbow and falling in step at your right. “Alright, top three.”

“You’re no longer my favorite person,” you bluffed.

“We’ll see.” Neal said, sounding unbelievably smug. As he started moving further to the right, you followed, and he led you onto a paved walkway that led away from the street and into the green park that stretched between Riverside Drive and the Hudson. “I have an ace up my sleeve.”

“You’d need sleeves for that,” you said, prodding his bare arm pointedly.

Neal gave you that mischievous little grin that always scared Peter a little bit, but didn’t answer. He took you on the very first right into the path. The greenery sloped downwards towards the river, so you could see all the way to the parkway from where you were standing, give or take some trees in the way. The grass had been painted on, probably by some kids, in bright blues and purples. A little more than halfway to the river, the slope evened out, and that was where a line of fields and sports courts rested, flanked on both sides by walking trails. The basketball field only had a couple of kids playing on it, but the soccer field and baseball field both had small teams and some people setting up picnics and lawn chairs around the perimeter. You couldn’t make out any of the individual spectators or players from where you were.

“Are we early?” You asked, making to look at your watch before remembering that you hadn’t worn it today. Instead, you took Neal by the arm to turn his wrist and check his.

“A few minutes. There’s no rush,” he said, even as he let you see the time. “I wanted to make sure you saw this first. Look down.”

Frowning with confusion, you followed his instruction to look down. But there was nothing at your feet, and you still couldn’t make out anything on the fields. There was nothing except the paint sprayed onto the grass – which, now that you really looked at it, you could see spelled out letters. They were upside down, painted to be seen most easily from the playing fields, where the entire slope could be more easily seen, but they were also big enough to read upside down from where you were.

And they spelled out your name.

Y/N, DATE TONIGHT?

You covered your mouth with your hand, rereading the huge sign over again to make sure you were really reading it correctly.

Neal laughed quietly at your surprise. “Can I have my ‘hopeless romantic’ card back?”

“This-“ There were so many things you itched to say that you had to take a second to settle on just one. “Yes!” You said, nearly dropping your coffee in your haste to turn to him and grab his arm excitedly, linking your elbow through his. “And yes – but you said this was ridiculous,” you reminded.

“No, I said writing on river water was ridiculous,” Neal specified, gesturing with his coffee cup down at the grass. “Grass is perfectly usable.”

You started to giggle happily. Scratch the roses, this was the most romantic thing, and it was for you, from Neal. He’d never been avoiding you, he’d been reading the same books as you specifically to be romantic. How precious was that? You had to be the luckiest girl in the city, even if just for this one day.

“Not that I would personally vandalize city property,” Neal said after giving you a few seconds to bathe in the positive feelings. He sounded entirely too conversational. “I’m an upstanding citizen.”

“Right,” you said, nodding along, leaning your head against his shoulder for a moment. “Hypothetically, if you did, the paint would be eco-friendly, though, wouldn’t it?”

“Hypothetically, I would use a water-based chalk spray that will wash away on its own with a couple rainy days,” Neal replied.

“I love a hypothetically ecologically-conscious man,” you said solemnly, before looking back up to his face and smiling adoringly. This time, you didn’t hesitate to go up on your toes and kiss his cheek.

A/N: Wildflower Trails, Better Liars, and Riverwalk are all made up! However, Better Liars was an alternative name for my White Collar OC fic, Lie a Little Better; the rose bouquet is the arrangement Neal gifts to McKenna in several chapters. If you would like to check out that story, please check out the series here.

#lawmen and conmen #white collar #white collar x reader #neal caffrey #neal caffrey x reader #fanfic #oneshot #requested #anonymous #fluff #romance #books #booksweet #diana berrigan #reader insert #x reader

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