Request: Do you do cross-overs? I was thinking Neal Caffery’s younger sister works with the BAU, her brother, Mozzie, and Peter on a case, and ends up crushing on Derek Morgan.
A/N: As you can see… I might’ve gotten carried away with this. This is chapter 1/?; italics are flashbacks. Anon, please let me know what you think!
(Background information: La Cosa Nostra is the Italian mob. Richard Kuklinski, AKA “The Iceman,” was a contract killer for the Gambino family of the La Cosa Nostra. The Russian mob, or the mafiya, are considered by the American government to be the most prominent threat of organized crime, which is partly why Keller wouldn’t leave the country without the money from the auction in White Collar 1x12 “Bottlenecked.” The “former employer” Y/N refers to is Vincent Adler.)
Fandom: White Collar/Criminal Minds crossover
Characters/Pairings: Derek Morgan x Reader; Neal Caffrey, Peter Burke, Diana Berrigan, Clinton Jones, Eric Ruiz, Aaron Hotchner, Spencer Reid, David Rossi, Jennifer Jareau
Y/N - Your Name
As a freelance CI, you got to spend
much more time with Neal without having to sneak around. Although you weren’t
exactly pleased with spending so much time with Peter at first, you’d warmed up
to him over time and considered him a good friend. (You still preferred his
wife.) Where the WCCD team was concerned – well, you were just glad that Diana
and Cruz hadn’t been on Neal’s case way back when. They were kinda scary.
The debriefing was pretty normal for
a case of insurance fraud. You and Neal had found ways to communicate and
distract each other from the boring overviews of things that were of really no
interest whatsoever while the rest of the agents sat up straight and raised
their hands to ask questions like good little students. Peter had made it
against the rules to text during meetings, so you and Neal had started to write
letters onto each other’s hands under the table. After that, he started making
you sit on opposite sides.
He had yet to pick up on that you
were tapping out messages to each other in Morse code.
still had a stitch in your side from your almost mile-long sprint away from a
beat cop when you heard a knock on the door.
taught you many things, but one thing he hadn’t had to teach you was to watch
your back. You were a fourteen-year-old living on the run with your brother,
who was still so young most people wouldn’t place him any older than twenty.
You looked like easy victims. Living as criminals also meant that not only did
you make enemies from the people you conned and stole from, but it also meant
you had to be extra careful of what you did and said around police. You had to
be sure they couldn’t misconstrue anything you said or did.
first thing you did was look through the peephole, checking for a uniform. No,
it wasn’t the cop you’d ditched. It was a short guy, who looked very physically
unimpressive – he had an ugly fake wig and a loose-fitting Hawaiian shirt, and
white khakis – but looks could be deceiving. After all, you looked like a sweet
little girl, but you’d just gone around Central Park, pickpocketing enough
money to pay the rent.
up!” The guy called. He didn’t yell, just knocked on the door again, maybe a little
hesitated before you did as he said. Maybe he was just the landlord.
door opened slowly. You leaned on the frame so that you could close it quickly
if you needed to, and the man couldn’t see very far into the apartment. He was
old, easily ten, possibly twenty years older than Neal.
blinked at you, surprised. You were not who he had expected. You took it to
your advantage, made your most confused and nervous face, and adopted a quiet,
anxious, meek child’s voice.
– I’m sorry, sir,” you whispered to him, looking apologetic and stricken at the
same time. “I’m not supposed to let people in when my daddy’s not home.” Neal
often played his good looks to his advantage. You’d lost weight without having
parents to feed you, despite Neal’s best efforts, so you looked smaller than
you were. You chose to utilize that.
then, your brother came out from the hallway, toweling off his damp, dark hair.
“Y/N?” He called, looking around for you. You panicked, but just for a second,
and hoped it didn’t show on your face.
sniffled and rubbed your nose. “I’ve gotta go,” you told the stranger at the
door, making a sad face and starting to close the door. For effect, you started
talking to Neal while still sure you could be heard. “How much longer until
mommy and daddy get home?”
it was too late. Although Neal realized you’d been talking to an uninvited
visitor, he had already spoken and let his voice be heard. The man in front of
you started to push the door open. “Hey, just wait a minute-“
felt the door being shoved back at you and did the first thing you thought of:
you punched him in the jaw as hard as you could.
Neal muttered, reaching for your shoulder. He pulled you back out of the way
and tried to set you behind the door and out of view. Petrified, you let him
move you back. Neal stepped up to the door, towel clenched in one hand, and
started to hold it half-closed again. “Look, I’m sorry. Forget she’s here,
please. You can have your money back.”
man’s answer sounded very pained. “I don’t want the money.”
now you realized that Neal must’ve stolen from him, and he’d tracked you both
down. Although you were afraid of what he might want, if not restitution, you
moved back into view, standing just behind Neal and watching the two older men
tightened his grip on the door. “You did the job perfectly,” he said tensely.
“I just cheated. I’m no one. You won’t ever see me again.”
man, who you would shortly learn to call Mozzie, turned his eyes past Neal and
to you. He looked over your defensive stance and then looked back up to Neal.
He surveyed both of you, looking intently at your faces, before he came to a
he said simply, dropping his hand from his bruising jaw. “Your sister can sure
pack a punch. Good thing I’m on your team.”
Though you were pleased with your
assignment, Mozzie definitely was not. The Gambinos were a big target. If a Caffrey
helped take down a Gambino, maybe the bureau would be a little more lenient on
Neal. You could hope.
“Are you insane?!” Moz yelled at you
from the couch while you leaned forward to the mirror, sliding your earrings
in. “Clearly, you must be, because there’s no other explanation for why you would
willingly walk into this – this –
this death trap!”
“Relax, Moz,” you said over your
shoulder, standing up straight and dusting off your blazer. You smiled at your
reflection and then gave a small, excited wave to Neal, who was standing back
in the kitchen sipping on coffee. “I know what I’m doing. I’m going to wear a
very discreet microphone courtesy of their techie, I’m going to make friends,
and then I’m getting out as soon as I have something linking them to the
murders.” You turned around, twirling to show off your form-fitting jeans. You
wanted to look like an adult, but you didn’t want to be taken as seriously as,
say, a fed. “Easy-peasy. Besides, Neal got Keller, Dorsett, and Wilkes, all
within a year. I’m falling behind.”
“It’s not a points system,” Neal
objected, his brow tightened. He had already voiced his concerns. You knew that
neither of them were exactly happy with your decision, and admittedly, it made
you a little less optimistic. You preferred when your friends had your backs.
You knew that Neal would drop everything for you if you asked – Mozzie, too –
but you’d like to be treated like an adult. Moz didn’t throw tantrums when Neal
started in on loan sharks that resorted to arson when they weren’t paid.
“Look, the Gambinos are the type
that hire contractors,” you reasoned, simply enough for it to feel
understandable and safe. “As long as no strange players come in, I figure I’ll
be okay if I watch my back, watch my drinks, and lie well. Which I learned to
do from the best.”
Mozzie cleared his throat and put
his empty wine glass down. “I want the record to show that I detest this idea.
That Ruiz guy has some nerve, asking you to do this!”
“Moz, relax,” Neal rolled his eyes. “Besides,
Ruiz is the last one that wanted to ask Y/N. Y/N asked herself, more or less,
and Ruiz was just more like a messenger that there was an opportunity.”
You sent him a grateful smile over
your shoulder. “Exactly,” you agreed. “I promise I’ll be careful. Their team is
going to have my back the whole time. If at any time I ever need a way out,
they’re on standby. Morgan’s ready to raid, Jareau will stage a phone call,
Hotchner will have a distraction provided by the on-site team. Whatever the
situation calls for.”
You didn’t mention that you were
secretly more than a little worried about this first meeting. You knew that if
you admitted to being anxious, Neal would fret that your nerves would get in
the way of your performance, and he might fight you more on this. There was
very little he could say to change your mind – people were dying, you had to do
something – but you always preferred
to have him in your corner.
You also neglected to mention that there was a
degree of inevitability that if something did go wrong, you would likely be
dead before you had the chance to send any sort of signal to anyone in the BAU.
The mafia didn’t become the mafia by playing
fair or giving advance notices. They became feared because they were dangerous,
and you were voluntarily going into a meeting with a lion roused from the den.
You gave the conference room door a
solid knock before you opened it. You entered before giving anyone the chance
to hide what they were doing. It was customary for Caffreys to get their noses
in everywhere, even without invitation. You found that knocking and then
quickly entering was accepted in the bureau more often than you’d have
expected; if it seemed like you were in a rush, no one cared as much about
politeness as much as they cared about something that may or may not be a
matter of urgent response. Such is the life of agents where they make a lot of
enemies and handle general public safety.
“There she is,” Rossi greeted you.
The agents of the BAU were all sitting around the table with the exception of
Garcia, who was standing by the front of the room, holding a remote to the
on-screen projector but covering her eyes with her arm. “Miss Sofia.”
“Sofia?” You asked, interested,
casting Hotchner one of your patented excuse
me, sir smiles as you pulled out a chair and sat down next to him.
“We’ve had a fake ID made. We think
if you use an Italian name, you could be accepted into the group faster.” Reid
explained. You nodded; it made sense. People trusted their own sooner than they
“So, Miss Sofia,” Rossi repeated
with a smirk, “Welcome to the Italian crime scene.”
you grinned, neglecting to mention that you’d been on the scene before –
robbing the Italian Consulate would probably just get you arrested. The statute
of limitations hadn’t passed on that yet. “So, fill me in on my cover.”
Garcia, Reid, and Morgan all told
you everything you would need to know. They believed the Gambinos were getting
involved in arms trafficking to supplement a future comeback of La Cosa Nostra
as the dominant family, so Sofia was an Italian-American arms trader with
planted references from Sicily, Naples, Amsterdam, Nice, and British Columbia.
Ruiz had his department’s own CIs start rumors that Sofia was in the city
looking to make a trade on military-grade weapons before she was flagged by
American customs, which meant there was a degree of rapidity required in making
a deal. Hopefully, according to Morgan, it would cut back the time frame,
allowing you to get in and out of the op sooner and preventing the body count
from rising higher than it already had. Reid was sure to throw in, however,
that it meant you wouldn’t have as long to build a rapport before they had to
let you in or risk losing their supposed weaponry, and that meant you were in a
more precarious situation if you were compromised.
“Hey,” Morgan said softly across the table,
intentionally catching your eyes. Your confident smirk dimmed slightly. “Last
chance to back out now, Y/N. We start this at eleven tonight. Once you’re in, you
have to see it through. If you stop halfway, they’ll look into you and find you’re
not who you say you are.”
then they’ll kill me, and possibly my brother. You thought to yourself,
almost – almost – second-guessing
your willingness to do this.
Then again, Neal had taken down Lao
Shen, even though the Chinese could’ve had you killed if Neal had been made. You
used to both be very, very cautious, but since Neal had been incarcerated, that
had changed. You needed money, which meant larger schemes. Then the FBI forced
Neal at worse targets, and him saying no would’ve gotten him imprisoned again.
It was by your own insistence that Caffreys had become high-profile targets,
because you wouldn’t let him be caged just because he was worried about you.
“Thanks,” you told him honestly. You
hated how sometimes it felt like the bureau only saw you and Neal as tools. It
was nice to be treated like a person and have agents recognize the danger you
were volunteering for. “But I’m the most qualified consultant you have. Say
what you will about my brother and I, but we’re anti-violence. Killers need to
“Alright then.” Hotch (as he preferred
to be called) stood up from his seat slowly, moving to close the door to the
conference room. “The meeting is covert. You go in, you respond to your alias,
and you wait to be approached.”
“And then try to convince them to
take me back to wherever their hideout is.” You reasoned. “So when I get
probable cause, you guys can get a specific address on your warrant.”
“But don’t be the one to suggest it.”
Prentiss told you sternly, shaking her head. “If you can steer it in that
direction, that would be great. Just don’t ask to go there. No matter what we
need, don’t do something that could make you into a threat.”
“You need a help signal, just in case
something goes wrong.” Morgan leaned onto the table, tapping a capped pen over
a document summarizing your alias’ history. “Is there a word or a phrase that
you can remember under pressure, that can be slipped into conversation without
You opened your mouth, but stopped
and leaned back. With your toes, you rocked your chair, thinking seriously.
Neal was usually assigned his phrases, but you supposed that choosing your own
ensured you would be able to think of them even if you had a gun to your head.
It took you a moment, but you were
able to come up with two words that held such suspenseful and terrorizing
associations to you that you would never in your life be able to forget.
“Music box,” you told him simply,
neglecting to expand on your answer, even when Prentiss, Reid, and Garcia all
looked at you in confused inquisition. “Trust me,” you told Morgan, who had
arched an eyebrow in reluctant skepticism. “There’s no way I’d ever forget ‘music
Chapters: 5/? Fandom: Carmilla (Web Series), Carmilla - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Laura Hollis/Carmilla Karnstein, Carmilla/Laura Characters: Laura Hollis, Carmilla Karnstein, LaFontaine (Carmilla Web Series), Lola Perry, Sherman Hollis, Lilita Morgan Additional Tags: Exes, Alcohol, drunk marriage, Some angst, some smut, Probably a twist on the fake dating trope in there, lots of messy feelings, let’s see where this goes, AU Summary:
For Laura, running into her ex is mortifying enough. What’s more mortifying is waking up after a crazy night in Las Vegas next to her ex. And, wait, why are they both suddenly wearing wedding bands?