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photoboothphotos · 2 years

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Shock Factor

Jake Peralta x Reader - Life changing celebrations with a unlikely duo: a lawyer and a detective. [2.2K Words]

Requested by: @shycollectionwolfstuff - I hope you enjoy and that you don’t mind me indulging in my own plot ideas. My apologies for taking so long to write it. <3

The muscles in your system ached from your sleep. The sunrise shone brightly behind your closed eyes as you twisted in your sheets, desperate for an extra five minutes in bed.

You knew it was early, too early to be a functioning human being. Before you could bury yourself in sleep, a pair of arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you forward into a sea of blankets and pillows. “Good morning Sunshine,” a husky voice, belonging to none other than Jacob Peralta, greeted you. “Up and at’em, Babe.”

Your boyfriend smiled when you pressed a groan into his chest. His eyes darting to your shared alarm clock, its blazing red numbers flashing as the time hit six in the morning. Jake dug within the sheets to bring your face up and towards his before planting a kiss on your nose, “We can do this!” He declared enthusiastically before whipping away the covers.

Today was the day.

You had been waiting for this day since you were a kid. Ever since little (Y/N) accidentally discovered the joys of Legally Blonde, Suits, and How to Get Away with Murder, she was fixated on a career in law. Whether it was environmental or business law, she was hooked on commanding a courtroom with her ingenious ideas and clever arguments.

Of course, this notion horrified some of the people in her life. Her adoptive dad, Raymond Holt, always had a distaste for lawyers. The profession contradicted everything he stood for: the validity of the justice system, rule and conduct, and his duty of putting away criminals. But seeing you light up the courtroom in your early years as a lawyer caused a change of heart.

Jake had felt the same way when he met you. He had terrible run-ins with lawyers over his years on the force, too many to count. A thousand of sleaze-balls trying to convince a room that hardened criminals were innocent. But when he saw you that day working a pro bono case, he believed every word you said and he knew you did too. Your eyes shone with compassion for the victim, a layer of sympathy in your voice as you walked the jury through the course of events. Jake knew then his life would change for the better and that he wanted to have the biggest pleasure of being your cheerleader.

After three years together, you’ve finally finished your doctorate in law studies and Jake got to be your sweet sweet date for the festivities. Today you get presented with your doctorate degree, and your entire circle was overjoyed with the news. The other half of your pair of adoptive fathers, Kevin Cozner, was particularly overjoyed since the new designation came with a professor position at Columbia University. Your entire extended family and the detective squad of the Ninety-Ninth precinct will be over at the Holt-Cozner house to celebrate your success before you walk on stage.

Jake was so excited to meet your family. He had many dinners with your parents before, more than either dad wanted, but this one was special. This time, Jake got to be a part of your story in a spectacular way.

Peralta helped you change into your graduation dress, its pink silk dripping over your lazy limbs. You sleepily did your hair and make-up as Jake put on his fanciest button-up and tie. Your boyfriend moved like a 1980s animated cartoon, his feet moving fast while running from room to room making sure that the cupcakes you prepared the night before were neatly packed while also double checking that his dress shoes were perfectly shiny. Your boyfriend’s arms were frantic while ushering you out of the apartment, one hand on the small of your back while the other carried your purse.

He kicked the door shut with his heel and as he whirled his head around you caught his lips in yours, slowing down his rushed heartbeat. The kiss was abrupt but there was a softness to it, something time-stilling about it. The cupcake container you held created a gap between the two of you. The space seemed to stretch for miles, but Jake’s hand never waivered from its place on you waist.

“I love you.” You whispered, planting another kiss on his chin.

“And I love you.” The detective replied with the ‘too’ dropped, because it wasn’t conditional to you loving him but a feeling that he harboured through his entire existence.

The party buzzed throughout the morning. In the midst of Jake helping Kevin prepare his famous rice dish, there were a hundred musings of your childhood: pictures in the kitchen of you and your first spelling bee prize, trinkets of handmade pottery you’ve made for father’s day.

Jake could hear your Uncle Henry embarrassing you in the other room, telling the squad a story from when you were interning at his firm, ‘And she stayed till after closing trying to fix the damn printer so the attorney could present in the morning!’. There was an echo of laughter and Peralta could already imagine your face blushing in a bright cherry shade.

His heart warmed. Jake always enjoyed his visits to your childhood home, especially when it included a slideshow of your baby pictures from your Aunt Janice and peaks into your childhood bedroom. He loved visiting so much that he almost felt guilty for what he was about to do.

On cue, Holt arrived in the room requesting you and the squad to follow him into the kitchen. Soon the kitchen was overwhelmed with detectives, with you placed right in the middle of the circle of officers. “I got a call from Lieutenant Hicks from our neighbouring precinct, there has been a hack on several precinct firewalls causing havoc with missing evidence and perpetrators running free from holding cells. We need to get back to work right away.” The kitchen quickly filled with shots of confused questions and protests, all of which were silenced with another command. “We don’t have time to discuss the details. All units are to report for duty immediately.”

The crowd dispersed with some unsatisfied grumbles. Only you, Jake, and your parents were left standing in the kitchen, the whistle of pots filled the thick silence. There was an immediate look of guilt radiating on Holt’s face. Though your dad usually bore a deadpanned face, you’ve grown to know the different shades of his expressions. “I am so sorry (Y/N), I know you’re walking the stage in a couple of hours but this will likely take up the rest of the morning.” He apologized, bringing in you into a hug. “The squad and I will try our best to make it back for the afterparty at Shaw's Bar.”

“I understand, stay safe you two.” You replied, turning out of your father’s hug to give Jake one. You were used to these inconvenienced instances by now. Even if it were your birthday or your tenth-grade talent show, you understood from an early age that there was always someone in need of saving; that the absence of Holt during bedtime stories meant that he was fulfilling his job.

The walk across from the stage was a lonely one, with only Kevin and some of your distant relatives cheering you on from the sidelines. But you strode confidently through the rest of the celebration, head held high and your pride in yourself never wavering.

After the last of the names were called and the speeches from your professors were finished, you rushed outside to the university gardens with your purple and white New York University graduation gown swaying in the winds. Kevin was the first to greet you, engulfing you in an embrace that almost made your doctorate cap fall. He pulled away excitedly, gifting you a Columbia sweatshirt that had ‘Professor Holt-Cozner’ embroidered on the sleeve. “I also got us matching lunch bags,” Kevin admitted with a shyness in his voice, “I know it’s not necessarily ‘hip’ to eat lunch with your dad but I hope you will at least give your old man a nod across the cafeteria.” He joked.

You gave him a look, taken aback by his language “Dad, did you just use several informal nouns and an expression within the same sentence for humour reasons?” You teased, giving your father a look.

The two of you shared a smile before the moment was interrupted by a loud ringing coming from your gown pocket. Your eyes scanned the phone screen, there were flashing letters telling you the district attorney was calling. “Hello District Attorney Melvin, what can I do for you?” You greeted, taken aback by the random call. It’s been years since you’ve taken a public case.

You heard a rustling of papers on the other end of the line before the DA spoke ‘(Y/N), thank you for taking my call. I understand it’s been a while since you’ve worked at the office, but I have received a concerning call that a Jacob Peralta was taken into processing at the Seven-Four and is in need of legal representation.’

“The Seven-Four? Has that precinct been hacked as well?” Concern rippled through your body, unable to maintain your composure as you shot worried glances toward Kevin. “Nevermind, I’m on my way. Thank you for the call, Melvin.”

The tips of your toes carried you up the stairs and into the precinct, your legs moving unfamiliarly as you tried to navigate the different levels of the building. You could feel your dad following closely behind you, making sure your dress didn’t snag on anything.

The rest of your family party excused themselves home, the festivities of your day were long forgotten as you let your heart panic with anxiety at what’s to come. You can feel your heart beat rapidly as you made your way towards the interrogation room, guided by a police officer you’d already forgotten the name of. Your mind immediately went towards a million situations, all of which were some version of the worst-case scenario: Was Jake framed for a crime he didn’t commit? How will you be able to defend your way out of this one? Why is the officer leading you towards the roof?

Your feet halted with the soft click of your heels silencing. You only now take notice that Kevin had stopped following you as the officer tipped his hat towards you without another word. Lost at what to do next, you had no choice but to go through the roof door. The Brooklyn night air stuck to your skin, its humidity mixing in with your anxiety sweats.

There on the roof, surrounded by fairy lights and rose petals, stood your boyfriend.

Before you could scold Jake for causing you to panic with another one of his pranks, he silenced your worries with a light touch of your hand. Peralta pulled you into his embrace so that the two of you were touching chest to chest, your body immediately melted into his touch, your mind already forgetting about your other worries.

“There wasn’t an emergency at the precinct was there?” You asked, suspicion lacing your voice as your nose scrunched. For a lawyer, you weren’t very good at deducing the situation.

“Nope,” He admitted smugly, “The Seven-Four: the precinct I worked at before coming to the Nine-Nine and also the day I decided that I wanted to marry you.” Jake was beyond nervous at this point but he wasn’t going to back down now. Despite the slick of his palms and the butterflies erupting in his chest, he continued carrying on with his monologue. “It was the fourth of July and we were celebrating at your uncle’s house. As fireworks blew up in the air, you said that you wanted to host a barbeque ten times as festive as the one he was hosting.” The detective began kneeling down on one knee, reaching into his pocket, “And that was the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard, especially coming from someone whose dads are not quite the festive type.” He joked, finally revealing the ring. Jake took a deep breath, the tremble in his fingers giving away his jitters. Even in the months of preparing this ruse and lying about his whereabouts, the gravity of the situation hadn’t hit him until now. “You make everything into a celebration, and I want to be a part of that. (Y/N) Holt-Cozner, will you marry me?”

The air thickened around you and you suddenly couldn’t breathe. You bent down towards Jake, not being able to bear the solo attention for too long. Your eyes began to water, feeling at a loss for words. “Yes,” you whispered. The word sounded like a promise, a spell that engraved your life with Jake’s forever. “Yes, I’d love to marry you.”

The roof terrace erupted in cheers causing you to fall into Jake with surprise. Applause erupted from the squad with your family and friends emerging from hidden corners. Your now fiancé slipped the ring onto your finger and the two of you stood up to accept the many congratulations. The night spurred with energy as tables were quickly set up and Shaw’s Bar was brought up to the top of the Seventy-Fourth precinct.

“So,” You began once you had a moment with Jake alone, “Why the elaborate prank?” Your question held no malice, only amusement your partner’s playful ways.

Jake shook his head with a smile, bringing you closer to plant a kiss on your forehead “For the shock factor Babe, obviously.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, turning your attention to the rest of the squad. Jake was right, you knew that there is always a need for spectacle with him, obviously. And you also knew that your prank loving fiancé meant well; that missing your graduation was just the small price he had to pay for the proposal to go smoothly.

As you chanced a glance at Jake while everyone was taking turns at giving toasts, your couldn’t help but consider yourself so lucky. The detective who helped your father find your family pet, Cheddar, when he got taken away, your best friend who was with you when your parents were going through a rocky time, and your lover when it came to all things celebratory is now your fiancé!

If you had told little (Y/N) that her love for Legally Blonde, Suits, and How to Get Away with Murder would cause her to meet the man of her dreams she wouldn’t have believed you. And even presently, as you stood hugging Jake’s side, you were a little lost for words.

‘Shock factor accomplished.’ You mumbled to yourself with a smile as you pulled the detective closer to you. And you could’ve sworn you saw a ghost of a smile grace on Jake’s face as you did.

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potter-head-phanatic · 4 months

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Word count: 911 Masterlist Tag List xx

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Jake and Y/N stood outside of their fathers apartment door after he bailed on them, once again. She could see how tense her brother was, from the frown on his face to the clench in his fist. Polar opposite to how he usually felt. "I have to, or hes going to keep doing it" She whispered an okay before giving his hand a reassuring squeeze, letting him know that she was right there with him, before knocking on the door. A few moments later, the door opened and Roger Peralta looked surprised to see them. "Jake! Y/N! I'm sorry I couldn't make it to the party" he started to say and Y/N could already feel an excuse coming, "I'm subbing for a buddy who's got an early flight, I'm sure you're upset" There it is. "No, actually. I'm not upset at all" She wanted to say something, but Jake was finally standing up for himself and she wasn't going to stop him. "yeah? great" She wanted to wipe the stupid smile off his face, not believing he could be this clueless to think Jake actually wasn't upset. "No, more relieved. You know you were always my hero, but i think i'm finally starting to see you for who you really are. A regional airline pilot whose landings are bumpy as hell and a pretty selfish guy who genuinely doesn't care about being a dad" She couldn't be more proud of her brother and agreed with every word he just said. "Jake, you don't understand. There was a downdraft on the drummondville runway." The Peralta patriarch kept looking at Y/N out of the corner of his eye, feeling uncomfortable under her glare. "It's not my fault" It never is. "Look, i've been making excuses for you my whole life, no matter how many times Y/N told me not to. But you're a pretty crappy father, and until you're ready to be a good one, don't call me" Y/N wanted to jump for joy. She couldn't remember the amount of times she envisioned this moment happening, and to see the shocked expression on their fathers face made it worth the wait.

"Also, im taking your captains hat cause it's cool and I want it" Jake spoke as he reached into the apartment, grabbing the hat from the table that was beside the door, before putting it on. "Go on without me. I'll meet you outside, there's something I need to say" He looked at her as if to say, are you sure? After a reassuring nod, he gave his sisters shoulder a squeeze before heading down the hallway and making his way outside. Not before sending one final glare towards Roger. Y/N waited till she didn't hear Jakes footsteps anymore before turning towards her father once again. "You really messed up this time" Roger went to defend himself, but she held a hand out, not letting him get a word out. "Save it. You're always full of excuses" Y/N couldnt hold her anger back much longer. Years of pent up rage just threatening to burst free. "Jake has been nothing but loving towards you. Even when you don't deserve it. And you show up all of a sudden acting like you want to spend time with him, when all you want to do is use him for your own selfish gain. You should be ashamed of yourself!" "Now hold on..." "I'm not done" He shut his mouth quick enough, surprised at the way his daughter was speaking to him. Y/N was finally letting all of her feelings out and it was making her feel lighter and lighter by the second. "I have spent my whole life trying to protect Jake, and I would like to think i've done a damn good job. So if you don't get serious about being in his life, dont bother coming back. It doesnt matter to me, i've gotten used to you disappointing me, but i'll be damned if I let you hurt him again" Roger Peralta had never felt so put in his place before, but there was also a small feeling of pride. Knowing just how much his children cared for one another. He couldnt think of anything to say, but it didnt matter. Even if he did, he watched as Y/N turn around and walk away at a fast pace, wanting to get away from him as fast as possible. When she got outside, she saw her brother sitting on the front steps of the building with his head in his hands. She carefully approached him and sat beside him on the cold steps, lightly nudging his arm. "Hey, dont think about him, we're better off" He tiredly ran his hands down his face while letting out a long sigh, "I'm so dumb, how could I not see this coming" "Hey, youre not dumb" she protested as she wrapped her arm around is shoulders, not wanting him to feel bad about himself, "you're just a hopeful person, thats a good quality to have" He looked over at her with a small smile, "What did I do to deserve an amazing sister like you" "I dont know, something amazing in a past life" They both laughed before standing up and heading to Y/Ns car, heading back to Shaw's bar where their work family was waiting for them.

#jake peralta one shot #Jake Peralta x sister!reader #Brooklyn nine nine #Brooklyn nine nine imagine #andy samberg #B99 #B99 imagine #jake peralta imagine #Peralta!reader

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yellowjackles · 1 year

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jake peralta one-shots chapter two: threats

summary: jake gets threatening phone calls from an enemy and they make him do things that piss everyone off, until one day he is taken by them. there's a ton of angst but fluff at the end!

All Jake wanted was a break.

He and Rosa had been working nonstop in what seemed to be an unsolvable case. But they’d been detectives for a while, so they knew that at some point the answer would come around. At the moment, though, Jake would spend most of the time thinking about the case, stressed, and no matter what the conversation was, he managed to end up talking about it and how frustrating it was becoming.

Amy put an end to his paranoia when she surprised him with Die Hard and pizza that night. He really needed to relax. He deserved to. And there was no better way to do it other than spending a night watching his favorite movie with his favorite food and his favorite person.

But Jake didn’t get to relax. “I’m just gonna change my shirt,” he said loudly as he entered their bedroom.

“Okay!” Amy yelled back, waiting for him at the living room.

There was this feeling of excitement in his chest. Amy always knew how to comfort him when a case had him all tense and anxious. It had been a looong week.

Jake had only taken his shirt off when his phone rang. For a second, he imagined it would be Rosa, telling him she’d finally solved the case, and then he chastised himself for immediately going there.

But now – it was a number he didn’t recognize. Jake ignored it and rejected the call, then opening his drawer to pick a shirt. And again, his phone rang.

The same number. Jake rolled his eyes, who was bothering him? He rejected it again, but the third time it rang, a weird feeling of anxiety took over him. What if it did have something to do with the case? What if it was someone calling him to tell him a friend or family was injured?

If it was just an extortionist, he could simply hang up. “Hello?” Jake said after finally picking up the phone.

“Detective Jake Peralta.”

Jake frowned. The voice was distorted, too low. It was somebody trying to hide their identity. “Who’s calling?”

“You’re the reason Marco Silva is in jail.”

Jake’s stomach sank. This couldn’t be good news. “What do you want?”

“I want you to pay back.”

“Who—”

“I’m watching you, Peralta. I’m watching you and your girlfriend. I know all your relatives. I know who you care for, I know who you don’t want getting hurt.”

Jake’s hands were suddenly sweaty, trembling. He couldn’t believe this was happening. “We don’t need to… you don’t have to do this. Let’s discuss this, alright?”

“I didn’t call to negotiate. I called to tell you that I’m getting back at you. I’m going to make your life miserable.”

Jake felt sick. “Okay—don’t…” he took a deep breath, his mind racing with horrible thoughts. “Don’t hurt anyone. Please. I don’t… what do you want me to do?”

“You can start by labelling the case you’re working on as a cold case.”

Jake gulped. “But… it’s not.”

“Don’t you think I know that? Why don’t you fuck it up? Do whatever, just make everyone forget about it.”

“I don’t get to label the cases, I only—”

“God, you are stupid, aren’t you? I’m telling you, do whatever you have to, as long as it remains unsolved. Unless you want me to hurt Amy Santiago.”

Jake’s heart skipped a beat. “No. No, no – don’t you dare. Don’t even say her name.”

As if on cue, Amy’s voice came from the living room. “Babe? Everything okay?”

Jake stared at his phone. Whoever called him had hung up. Jake’s stomach felt uneasy, and the thought of having to go to the living room and pretend everything was okay sounded like a nightmare.

“Yup!” he screamed back, but his voice was all shaky. Amy would figure that something was wrong as long as she saw him. And if she knew, her life could be in danger.

“Alright, think,” Jake told himself, breathing quickly.

Nobody could know about that. Maybe he should just obey. Dropping a case – that wasn’t so hard, was it? It was definitely worth it, if it meant saving his loved ones’ lives.

Jake made his way to the living room and felt worse when he saw the movie was ready to start playing, snacks all over the coffee table. The living room smelled of pizza and candy. And Amy was there, under a duvet, laughing at some picture on her phone. Usually, that would have been Jake’s heaven. But that phone call had taken it all away so suddenly.

“Hey, what took so long?” Amy asked him softly, making room for him on the couch.

“Um, Ames…”

“Something wrong?” she asked, and like Jake predicted, clearly she was already onto him.

“Yeah, I don’t feel so well,” he lied nervously. “I think I’m just too tired. Maybe we could leave this for some other day.”

The disappointment on Amy’s face broke his heart. “Seriously? But… I mean, if you’re too tired, I shouldn’t push you. But I thought this would help you relax.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s just… I don’t know. I feel really tired.”

“Do you at least want some pizza? You love pizza.”

Jake’s appetite was dead. “I’m not hungry, Ames. I think I’m gonna go to bed…”

Amy seemed surprised. “Alright,” she said. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look a bit pale.”

“Don’t worry, I’m fine,” Jake put on his best smile. “Sleeping will definitely make me feel better.”

Jake didn’t sleep at all, though. He flopped on their bed, laid on his side, and stared at the wall. At some point he heard Amy join him, then felt her weight on the mattress, and her fingers begin to stroke his hair. He always found that soothing, but not that night. He didn’t want anything to happen to her. Or to his mother, or Rosa, or Charles, or Gina, or Terry… there were so many people. So many.

Jake didn’t have an appetite in the morning either, but he knew Amy would get too suspicious if he didn’t eat anything.

He got a second call later in the precinct, and he felt immediately nauseous when he saw the number from the night before. He went into the records room to have some privacy.

“Yes?” he answered nervously.

“How’s that task going?”

Jake sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I just got the precinct, I haven’t even started working on the case.”

“Well, why don’t you hurry before Detective Diaz finds anything, huh?”

Jake’s stomach jumped at the mention of his friend. “I will,” he gritted out.

“I decided it won’t be enough if the case becomes a cold case. I need you to destroy the evidence.”

“What? How would I do that?”

“You figure it out. Get rid of the documents and evidence from that case. You have until the end of your shift.”

“That’s not fair!” Jake huffed, but none of that was fair to begin with. He really just wanted a break.

“Cry me a river. If it’s not done by nine—”

“I’ll do it,” Jake spat before someone else was threatened. His chest was filled with anxiety. “I’ll find a way to do it.”

“Good boy.”

They hung up. Jake wanted to smash his phone on the floor. How could he even destroy the evidence and make it look like an accident? What would Hitchcock and Scully do?

Jake remembered the time Hitchcock accidentally dropped coffee all over a case, and decided to go with that one. He got a cup of coffee from the kitchen, and then went to Rosa’s desk, wiping his sweaty hands on his jeans.

“Hey, Rosa,” he said awkwardly.

She glanced at him. “’Sup.”

“So uh… I was thinking. I could take a look at those files again. From the case.”

“What for? Did you find anything?”

“No, but… maybe I’ll find something this time.”

Rosa scowled, staring at him, and Jake felt incredibly nervous upon her gaze. The bad thing about all of his friends being detectives was that he couldn’t really hide anything from them.

“You alright, dude?” she asked. “You look like shit.”

“Ouch?”

“You can take a break from this case, you know. It’s driving you insane.”

“It’s not driving me insane,” Jake scoffed. “I just want to take a look at the files, can I not?”

Rosa scoffed too. “Fine. But I’ll check them out too. I got nothing else to do.”

Jake’s stomach turned as Rosa got the files and made her way to the briefing room. They’d gathered some data and pictures on a board, and all Jake could think of was that he’d have to ruin all of that evidence too.

He placed his coffee cup near the files on the table, then realized Rosa was saying something to him. Jake was sure that even if he’d tried, he wouldn’t have been able to pay attention.

“You sure you’re alright?” Rosa asked him. Her tone was flat as it always was, but he knew she was worried, at least enough to ask whatsoever.

“Yeah,” Jake said, frowning as if he didn’t know what she was talking about, but he was aware that he probably looked terrible because he hadn’t slept.

“Did you hear anything of what I said?”

“No…”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re the one who wanted to look at the case.”

“I’m sorry. Just tell me again.”

“Whatever. It didn’t matter.”

Rosa’s eyes then got lost in the pictures in front of them, and Jake recognized her expression: she’d just figured something out.

“Holy shit,” she muttered.

Jake then decided he couldn’t let her get any further with that, and pretended to stumble backward, dropping the coffee all over the files.

Rosa’s eyes went wide. “You idiot!”

“Sorry!” Jake stammered, and then she punched him on the arm. “Ow! That was an accident!”

Rosa growled angrily, picking the folder to check the files. “You’re lucky they’re just wet,” she huffed.

Fuck. They were still readable. He couldn’t let that happen, he couldn’t. “Let me see them,” Jake said, and tried to snatch them away from Rosa, but she held onto them, confused.

“No, dude, you already ruined them.”

“I want to see them,” Jake insisted, and pulled from the files.

Rosa pulled harder though, bewildered. “Hey, what the fuck, Jake?”

“Let me see them!” he yelled.

“You’re going to ruin them, you idiot!”

“Just give them to me!”

Suddenly, the paper ripped in half, weak because of the coffee. Rosa and Jake froze for a second, and then she glared at him furiously.

“What the fuck, Peralta?!”

Jake’s stomach twisted. Sure, this was all for his friends’ sake, but he didn’t like to put Rosa in a bad mood, as if she hadn’t been stressed about the case too.

“Oops,” Jake said dumbly.

“What’s going on in here?!” Terry’s voice boomed from behind Jake, and he startled, turning around to find his very angry sergeant.

“This idiot just destroyed all the files we had!” Rosa yelled angrily.

“Damn,” Terry said when he saw the state of the documents. “What the hell happened?”

“It was an accident!” Jake squealed.

Rosa exhaled sharply, hitting the table with her fist. “You’re so stupid sometimes,” she growled at Jake, and then stormed off.

Jake stayed there, feeling like the stupidest person in the world. Terry only gave him an odd look before walking away too, and Jake felt his phone buzz in his pocket. It was a text. Well done.

The text didn’t let Jake sleep that night either. He kept wondering how the hell did they knew he’d just destroyed the files? But at least that meant everyone would be alright.

“Babe, are you okay?”

Jake didn’t realize he’d zoned out again. He looked up at Amy, who was pouring herself some coffee. He leaned on the table of the break room, pensive.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

“You’ve been acting a bit weird since Monday.”

“No I haven’t.”

Amy huffed. “Well… Rosa was really angry because of what you did. She said it looked like you were out of it. And honestly… you do look very distracted.”

“Yeah, the case…” Jake scratched the back of his head.

“Maybe you could just let it go,” Amy suggested, sitting down next to him, and then she placed her hand on his tense own, rubbing with her thumb. “Sometimes that’s what we have to do. It won’t make you any less of the amazing detective you are.”

Jake stared at her sadly. “I love you so much.”

Amy smiled. “I love you too.”

She looked over her shoulder to check that nobody was watching and then kissed his hand. Even if they’d been dating for almost a year now, she still gave Jake butterflies, as cheesy as it sounded.

He watched her walk away to her desk, feeling the world crumble down around him. God, how he wished he didn’t care about her.

Wait… maybe that was it. He could pretend to stop caring about her. He could pretend to get in a fight with her, break up with her. As hurtful as that sounded… at least she would be fine.

Jake almost jumped on his seat when his phone rang again. He was beginning to really hate the sight of that stupid phone number on his screen.

He thought about answering with a ‘what do you want?’ but he couldn’t risk making someone who was threatening him mad. “Hello?”

“I have another task for you.”

“What is it?” Jake asked, nervous. “I got rid of the evidence, like you asked me to. Rosa dropped the case—”

“I know you and Detective Boyle are doing a bust today. I want you to injure him.”

Jake’s throat knotted. “What?”

“You heard me. Hurt him.”

“But…”

“What sounds better? Him being dead, or him having a broken leg? Your pick.”

Jake could see Charles working at his desk, with an absent-minded smile. His mind filled with awful images of his best friend being hurt.

“I get it,” Jake breathed. His stomach hurt. “I’ll… I’ll do it, but… why?”

“You don’t get to ask questions. You just follow orders. And don’t you just punch him in the face. Injured him badly.”

Before Jake could say anything else, they’d hung up again. He looked at Charles again, and his eyes teared up at the thought of anything bad happening to him. But he would be the culprit. He was the one who had to hurt him.

“Everything alright, Jakey?”

Jake snapped back to reality. Charles was at the wheel, glancing at him worriedly. “Yeah. I zoned out, sorry.”

“Don’t worry. You wanna play some music?”

“No, it’s fine. Hey, um… why don’t you tell me about your latest food obsession?”

Charles gasped excitedly, and immediately began rambling about some kind of pasta. Jake felt so bad. So, so bad. But at least he could try to butter it up for him.

Minutes later, they were knocking on the door of a man named Julius Moore. He was a fraud. “NYPD!” Charles yelled.

Julius opened the door a few seconds later. “Good morning,” he said, frowning. “What can I help you with?”

“We just want to ask a few questions,” Jake said, his hands near his handcuffs, and Julius seemed to notice, because the next thing he did was slam the door on their face.

“Shit,” Charles hissed before charging against the door to burst in.

“Freeze!” Jake demanded, but that just a habit. Criminals never obeyed.

“Where is he?!” Charles yelled as he looked around the apartment, which now seemed empty, as if Julius had vanished.

“Let’s split,” Jake suggested.

Charles nodded, and they began looking for the criminal. But Jake couldn’t help to think that his perfect chance to hurt Charles was right there. It made him feel like a monster. What would he do? Graze him with a bullet? No. No. Tackle him. Pretend you mistook him for the criminal.

Jake took a deep breath as he watched Charles go down the hallway, pointing with his gun, and then charged against him. Charles could only yelp. There was a crack.

“My leg!” Charles cried.

Jake’s heart skipped like three beats as he got off Charles, panicked. “Fuck!” his mouth was completely dry. He was lightheaded. “Charles, are you okay?!”

“Why did you do that?!” Charles whined, and Jake had never heard him talk to him like that. Everyone always joked about how Jake could probably push Charles off a stairwell and he’d forgive him anyway. But that didn’t seem to be the case.

“I’m so sorry,” Jake said, numb.

He felt Julius run behind him, and he turned around only to watch him escape through the window. “Fuck!” Jake yelled. He needed an ambulance.

Everyone was staring at him weirdly when he went back to the precinct. They definitely knew what Jake had done, and he was aware of how stupid it made him seem, not to mention he’d also ruined the evidence ‘by accident’. At that rate, he was going to get himself fired. Jake was even surprised that Holt didn’t scold him or suspend him, but he did seem pretty disappointed, which somehow felt worse.

“He really could use a day off,” he heard Terry say inside Holt’s office. “To get his head straight.”

Jake sighed and walked to his desk before he could hear Holt’s answer. It would probably be something hurtful, and he didn’t want to know. The way Amy kept glancing at him wasn’t helping, either.

“Why the long face?” Gina asked him later in the break room. “Is it because you massively screwed up two cases in the span of two days?”

Jake glared at her. “Ha-ha.”

“You’re not looking too hot, Jakester,” she noted. “Something’s up with you.”

Jake sighed. “Can everyone stop saying that? Nothing’s up. I’m just very tired.”

“That’s evident.”

He just rolled his eyes and ignored her. He knew everyone had noticed his weird behavior at this point, but they didn’t know he was just trying to keep them safe.

He got another message. Good job.

Keep reading on ao3

#jake peralta #jake peralta one shot #b99 #brooklyn 99 #brooklyn nine nine #peraltiago #fluff #angst #andy samberg #my writing

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celiastjamesoscar · 9 months

Text

Himbo Next Door

Pairings: Tara Carpenter x gn! Reader

Summary: you met Tara in the elevator your apartment and you two awkwardly hit it off. You begin to form a situationship with her, but Sam disapproves of you.

Warnings: Scream levels of violence, Pitbull Sam

Word Count: 5.5k

AN: this was from a request and I kind of expanded on it. I hope you enjoy it and if theres anything I need to change, let me know! If anyone has some requests, also let me know!

This is my first time writing a himbo reader, so im sorry that it’s not the best in that regard

Rain pattered against the quiet apartment complex as you rushed into the building, holding a pizza box. It had been a nice, beautiful day outside, but Mother Nature decided to flip on a dime. And, of course, you wore a white button shirt with black slacks, so your shirt was utterly see-through thanks to the rain. This was supposed to be a lovely evening out with friends, but it had turned into a disaster, and you were more than ready to binge-eat pizza while watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine.

You were initially supposed to go to a fancy restaurant with your best friend, Olivia, her boyfriend, and another close friend, Lucas. It was a going away dinner for her, as she was moving away for college. The restaurant was one of the best ones in New York City, and you somehow managed to snag a reservation for the four of you. As it was a top-notch restaurant, there was a dress code that one had to follow: black tie. You wore a handsome black suit with a white undershirt, and you were more than excited to drink the best wine and taste the best food that New York had to offer.

You meet up with your friends outside the restaurant, waiting for Olivia’s boyfriend to show up. She wore a beautiful cocktail dress, while Lucas wore a decent suit; he wasn’t what you would classify as a redneck, but he fit the description to a tee.

Thirty minutes had passed before her boyfriend showed up, and you almost lost it. He wore sweat shorts with an ugly soccer jersey, and to top it off, he wore a beanie that he refused to take off. You were always calm and collected, not one to jump to violence even when needed, but he really pissed you off sometimes.

You knew there was no way you guys would be allowed to dine at this restaurant just because of him, but you still gave it a shot. And whenever you guys walked into the restaurant, the waiter asked him to leave or change, but he insisted that he was allowed to eat there because he was ‘more of a man’ than the owner. Because of this, he turned it into a fifteen-minute argument with the manager, and then all four of you were asked to leave.

You were naturally upset about this and the fact that you had to put down a hundred-dollar deposit just to reserve a table. After you guys had left, he decided the group would go to Hardee’s, as he needed to get his daily food from there. You held your tongue as you drove there; this was supposed to be Olivia’s going-away party, but he just had to hijack everything.

Long story short, you were out a hundred dollars, listened to Olivia’s boyfriend talk about the WWE for thirty minutes, and bought a pizza at a locally-owned pizzeria. Just as you left the pizzeria, a downpour of rain started, causing your outfit to get ruined while you had to drive home in the rain. Your nerves were more than shot, but you didn’t say anything. Confrontation made you uncomfortable, and you always did your best to avoid it.

As you made your way to the elevator, a soft voice called, ‘Hold it!’ You switched the box to your left hand and held the elevator door back with your right.

“Thank you,” the voice said once she entered the elevator. She was close to a foot shorter than you, and when your eyes made contact, your heart skipped a beat. She was easily the most beautiful person you have ever seen; she had soft chestnut-brown eyes, freckles that highlighted those eyes, and the prettiest smile you had ever seen. Her bangs perfectly framed her face, and you couldn’t even mutter, ‘You’re welcome.’

She looked at you uncomfortably while looking at the elevator buttons. “Oh, looks like we’re going to the same floor then,” she said with an awkward chuckle while glancing over at you.

Your eyes snapped to the buttons and then back to her. “I guess so,” you said with a weak voice.

Tara looked at you when you spoke, but her eyes slowly drifted down to look at your shirt. She admired your abs through the soaked white shirt as it clung to your body, trying her best to keep her cheeks from getting too warm. She loved how you towered over her, and she would pay money to see your muscles or watch you work out.

Tara was snapped out of her thoughts as the elevator dinger and the doors opened. You smiled at her politely as you left the elevator, and to your surprise, she followed you down the same hallway. As you approached your door, Tara walked to the door before yours.

When you found yours, you unlocked your door and opened it, but before you walked in, you looked over your right shoulder and smiled at Tara. “It was nice meeting you,” you said softly as you walked into your apartment and shut the door. Tara smiled back at you while saying, ‘You too.’

You ran into Tara several times like that, and you tried your best to talk to her. You weren’t the best at socializing, especially with beautiful women, and Tara seemed to like that about you. You would always listen to her and seemed to enjoy what she said.

After enough small talk in the hallway, she eventually asked you to come to her apartment for the first time. You were nervous, of course, but there was no way you could pass on an opportunity to hang out with the alluring woman.

“Here we are,” Tara said as she held the door open for you. You smiled at her while walking into the apartment. It was nice and cozy, and it looked a lot like yours, and you instantly felt at home. Tara crept up behind you, grabbed your hand, and eagerly pulled you into the living room. Your cheeks immediately warmed at the touch, and you didn’t fight back as the younger girl tugged you into the living room.

You sat on the couch next to her as she grabbed the remote. “So, you know how I told you I wanted to watch a movie with you?” Tara asked with a smile while staring into your eyes; she could look into them forever and never get bored.

“Yeah, ‘The Babadook,’ I think?” You questioned with an eyebrow raised.

“Yes, that’s the one,” Tara said with a smile as she got up and looked around the entertainment center for the DVD. After a few minutes of looking, she let out a loud ‘ah-ha’ and inserted the disk into the DVD player.

She then sat on the couch and rested her head on your lap. The action caught you off guard, but then you gently ran your fingers through her hair. She smiled at the action and let out a soft sigh of happiness as she nestled into your lap.

That's how you two spent every Friday night: curled up on her couch watching movies. You enjoyed being in the girl’s company, and Tara loved showing you her favorite movies. Sometimes, you two would gossip about people on campus- you were in psychology together- or you would talk about what you had done that day.

Tara had mentioned that she had a sister she lived with, but you had never met her. Frankly, you were a little nervous to meet the older woman. You had caught yourself slowly falling for Tara, and it seemed that Tara valued her sister’s opinion more than her own. You hoped that you would make a good impression when you did meet her; you just didn’t expect to have to meet her today.

You and Tara were watching your new favorite show, ‘New Girl.’ It had been a peaceful night, and you two refused to watch an episode without the other. You were lying on the couch with Tara curled up on your chest. You guys were laughing together as Jess explained how she bought a footstool with a giant bag of meth when you heard the door to the apartment open.

Tara quickly pushed herself off your chest when she heard the door open and sat at the opposite end of the couch.

“Hey, Sam! What are you doing back here so soon?” She asks with a slightly nervous tone as she pauses the tv.

You heard the sound of boots walking toward you on the couch. You slowly push yourself up on the sofa, resting on your elbow as you look at the woman.

Sam was certainly taller than Tara, but not taller than you. She had jet-black hair and beautiful brown eyes. You were almost certain if Tara didn’t hold your heart, you would have fallen for the woman. She has a neutral expression as her eyes dart between you and Tara. “What’s going on here?” She dryly asks as she hangs up her backpack purse and turns to face you two.

You were about to say something, but Tara quickly interrupted you. “We were just watching a movie. This is Y/N, by the way,” Tara says as she nudges you, silently telling you to introduce yourself.

“Hi, I’m Y/N. You are extremely gorgeous,” you say with a giant smile as you extend your hand. Tara gives you a look of disbelief, but you can't see it as you face her older sister.

Sam looks at you suspiciously before shaking your hand. She makes sure to give you a good death grip, and if it weren’t for Tara, you probably would have melted onto the floor.

She scoffs as she rolls her eyes and lets go of your hand, and then looks at Tara, “Where did you find this street rat?”

Tara let out a small laugh that caused you to whip your hand around and give her a disheartening look. She quickly clears her throat before speaking in an annoyed tone, “I ‘found’ her in the apartment building, actually. We met in the elevator and shared a few conversations in the hallway.”

“So you have invited a stranger into our home with just you two here?” Sam asks with narrow eyes as she stares at you.

Her sister huffed, “This isn’t our first time hanging out here.”

At that, Sam’s eyes instantly leave yours, and she is staring at Tara with wide eyes and her mouth slightly open. “Are you kidding me, Tara?! Have you been hanging out with this random person while I’ve been at therapy? What if they tried to kill you?” Sam exclaims as she walks over and kneels before Tara, checking her sister for scratches or cuts.

“I would never hurt her, Sam. She’s too kind,” you say with a giant smile, even though Sam just insisted that you were a potential killer. You didn't care that she implied it; all you could think about was the beautiful girl you shared the couch with.

Sam slowly looks at you while keeping her hands on her sister’s knees. She glares at you with narrowed eyes as her eyes look you up and down. She can tell that you are taller than her and undoubtedly stronger than her. The fact that you could easily overpower both her and her sister set Sam on edge, but the way you seemed to carry yourself: the way you talked, sat, smiled, and even breathed made her even more suspicious of you. Sam had already seen how someone Tara loved killed her friends and almost both of them; she refused to let that happen again.

But you just seemed so indifferent about things. Sam wanted to call you some other things that weren’t nice, but she stuck with calling you indifferent.

Sam looked back at Tara and lightly sighed. “Is this the one you’ve been talking about?”

Tara moves around nervously while Sam calls her out. Her eyes shift uneasily between you and Sam as she fidgets with her fingers. “Um, yeah, they are,” she says with a low voice.

“Okay,” Sam says with a defeated tone as she stands up. She looks at you and speaks threateningly, “If you do anything to hurt Tara, I will kill your entire family and then you.”

You smile at Sam’s words as you sit up on the couch. “I don’t talk to any of my family, so I wouldn’t really care if you did. But I would appreciate it if you didn’t kill me; I love hanging out with Tara, and I would greatly miss it,” you say gently as you look at Tara. Tara is staring holes into the floor while she tries to hide her smile with her right hand.

Sam rolls her eyes at your comment and walks into her room, but not before sending a threatening glance at you and Tara on the couch. You had moved closer to her sister, and you looked back at her, sending her a polite wave with a friendly smile, believing that you had made a great impression on the older woman.

Sam scoffs as she walks into her room, slamming her door. You look back at Tara with a gentle smile and ask with a quiet tone, “You told her about me?”

The atmosphere in the living room immediately changed into something tense, and Tara could almost taste it on her tongue as she spoke calmly, “Um, yeah, I did. Does that bother you at all?”

You love how Tara refused to meet your gaze when she spoke; it almost made you believe she harbored romantic feelings for you, just as you did for her. “No, it doesn’t bother me at all. In fact, I kinda like it,” you say with a gentle smile as Tara’s eyes meet yours.

Those beautiful brown eyes smiled for her as they quickly glanced down at your lips before returning to yours. “You mean that?” She asks in a more confident voice as she shifts her body to face you; she has pulled her left leg up onto the couch while letting her right one hang off the couch, and her entire body is facing you.

“Of course, I mean that, Tara. I actually think I made a good impression; she seemed really nice,” you say happily. Tara let out a small laugh as she grabbed your hands and pulled you closer to her. You followed her silent commands and ended up laying your head in her lap while facing the tv.

Once your head got comfortable in her lap, Tara softly ran her fingers on her left hand through your hair while she reached for the tv remote on the coffee table with her other hand. “Just so you know, you did not, in fact, make a good impression with Sam, but I still like you,” Tara said with a smile that grew bigger when she heard you scoff in response.

She loved having these small, soft moments with you. She knew you weren’t the brightest, but your kind and caring nature made up for it plenty. Tara would give up everything she had to her name if it meant spending an evening like this with you for the rest of her days. You held her heart in your hands, and it only took her two weeks to admit that after your first encounter with Sam.

You two were going on a ‘double date’ with Mindy and Anika. You were a bit iffy on calling it a double date, as you and Tara weren’t dating, but Mindy and Anika are. So in your head, you called it a ‘totally platonic hangout.’

You got dressed and left your apartment to head over to Tara’s. When you knocked, the door instantly opened, and Tara was wearing a giant smile and a cute outfit.

“Hi,” she says with an angel-like voice while staring up at you with soft eyes.

“Hi,” you reply breathlessly. If Tara would let you, you would always stare at her, admiring her beautiful features and counting her freckles.

She snaps you out of your daydream by taking your hand in hers and intertwining your fingers. You gently bump your shoulder against hers as you walk towards the elevator and out to your car.

When you two get in the car, you start it and drive towards the restaurant. You and Tara talk about your day and how you missed each other (it's been two days since you last saw each other). You tell her about the crazy things your roommates have done recently, and she laughs at your stories. She tells you about new things in her life, such as Sam asking about you more and that she’s got a new roommate named Quinn. Tara said that the girl was promiscuous but funny and lighthearted. She then starts to talk about Chad, and you instinctively tense up.

“Chad hasn’t left me alone all week, Y/N! It's starting to drive me crazy. At first, I thought he just wanted to hang out as friends more, but yesterday he told me he has feelings for me. Can you believe that?” Tara asks with a small laugh as she looks over at you. You had gripped the steering wheel tighter at the mention of Chad having feelings for Tara. Your chest began to tighten, and your heartbeat picked up with jealousy. You had no right to be jealous, but you couldn’t help. Chad was athletic like you, but he was also a lot smarter than you, which Tara valued and liked as a romantic partner.

“Oh. Well, I'm happy for you, Tara. You deserve someone like him,” you lie through your teeth with a sad tone.

At your saddened tone, Tara finally noticed how your body was tense and how you seemed to want to strangle the steering wheel. She reaches her left hand out and gently places it on your arm, “I don't like him like that, Y/N,” Tara says honestly while looking at you with love. You visibly relax at her words and almost let a smile appear.

“How come? He’s everything you want in a partner: smart, funny, caring, loyal, and strong,” you reply with a weak voice that Tara almost laughs at.

She rubs her hand up and down your arm as she says, “I don’t like him back because I have feelings for someone else.”

“Oh. Well, I hope they make you happy,” you say honestly. Tara might not like you back, but you wanted her to be happy. And if she was happy, you were too.

Tara gently squeezes your arm before pulling back and placing her hands in her lap. She looks at you with so much yearning and love that she’s surprised you can’t feel it, but then she remembers you were basically a himbo: friendly, respectful, handsome, but not that bright. “You have no idea,” she says while sending heart eyes your way.

When you two get to the restaurant, you meet with Mindy and Anika and walk in together. You four get a table in the corner of the restaurant. You are sharing a side with Tara while sitting across Anika and Tara across from Mindy. You guys made idle conversation while waiting for someone to take your orders.

An attractive young woman approaches the table with a pip in her step, “Hey guys, welcome to O’Charley’s, my name is Sadie, and I’ll be your waitress for today. What can I get your guys to drink?”

All four of you order sweet teas, and before she leaves, she sends you a flirty wink that you missed, but Tara didn’t. She let out a small scoff as she hid her face in her menu, trying to fight jealousy. You look at Tara but don’t say anything, afraid to upset the girl more.

When Sadie brings back your teas, your hand lightly brushes hers as you grab yours, causing the woman to smirk. “Alright, are you guys ready to order?” She asks as she pulls her notepad from her apron, and you guys nod. “Okay, what can I get for you, beautiful?”

You pull your head from the menu and find that Sadie is talking to you. “Oh, I would like six-ounce sirloin with a Caesar salad and fries, please,” you say with a small smile. Not a flirty one, just a friendly one, but both Sadie and Tara mistake it for a flirty one. One girl is excited, while the other is filled with thoughts of murder.

Sadie finishes taking everyone’s orders before she quickly disappears again, but the atmosphere at the table is tense. Everyone but you can feel it, to which you start another conversation, and everyone else but Tara joins in. You tried to get the girl to talk, but you would get a small ‘uh huh’ or ‘of course.’

When your meals arrive, the four of you eat in peaceful silence, occasionally talking about how excellent your food is. It was an overall relaxing dinner until the checks came.

“You guys are separate, and you two are together?” Sadie asks, gesturing to you and Tara before gesturing toward Mindy and Anika. She was asking about the checks, but Tara picked up on the hidden underlining that you did not.

“That is correct,” you say as you accept your check from Sadie and then hand Tara hers. You all pay in cash and quietly wait for Sadie to come back.

When she does, however, she hands everyone their change, and instead of leaving, she pulls out her notepad and writes her number down on it. “Give me a call sometime,” she says with a wink as she hands you the paper.

You were going to ask what she meant by that, but any words got lost on your tongue as Tara stood up from the table and stormed out of the restaurant. Your clueless eyes follow Tara out of the restaurant before you lose sight of her, and you turn away to find both Mindy and Anika staring at you with wide eyes. “Go get her, dumbass,” Anika says harshly after a moment.

You grab yours and Tara’s change before quickly excusing yourself from the table, almost knocking your chair over. After you leave the restaurant, your eyes scan the area, looking for your lady. It only takes you a few seconds before your eyes land on her; she’s sitting on a bench, just staring at the ground.

You jog over to her and stop when she looks up at you. Her eyes are filled with a bit of anger and a lot of hurt, and for the first time in your life, you are out of words to say. You were always overtly friendly with people and they often mistook flirting with friendliness, which seemed to be your downfall with Tara.

“Tara, I am so sorry-”

“Just take me home, Y/N,” Tara cuts you off as she stands up from the bench and walks towards your car. You followed closely behind her, and when you got to the car, you went to open the door, but she shut it and opened it herself. You were slightly startled by the action but shook it off as you made your way to the driver’s side and got it. You start the car and drive back to the apartment; tension is the only thing you two feel.

You tried to talk to Tara throughout the car ride home, but she just stayed quiet and looked out the window with her arms crossed. You knew she was mad, but you couldn’t tell why. At first, you thought it might have been because of Sadie, but you and Tara weren’t dating, so she can’t be upset about it. Plus, your heart only belonged to Tara, so you would never go for anyone else.

When you two returned to the apartment building, it was an awkward ride up to your floor. When you two stepped off the elevator, you finally spoke, “Tara, please, I’m sorry, just talk to me,” you pleaded as you followed behind the girl.

You were getting ready to usher more apologies as Tara opened her door, but you were quickly cut off when she slammed the door in your face. You were stunned at the harsh action but knocked on her door once you realized what had happened. “Tara, please. Talk to me,” you said with a defeated tone. You waited a minute before sitting on the floor and resting your back against the door, sending Tara a string of apologies and asking her how you could fix it. But you got no reply, so you closed your eyes and rested your head against the door, hoping she would open up.

You fell asleep at one point but were quickly woken up when the door opened. Tara scoffed at you before she stepped over you. You stood up after she did that and followed her down the hallway. “Tara, you have to talk to me. Tell me what I did wrong,” you pleaded as you grabbed her wrist.

She pulled her hand out of your grasp. “Leave me alone, Y/N. I'm going to a party with Chad,” she said with a voice full of anger. Your heart instantly dropped at the mention of Chad, and your face showed it.

“Why Chad?” You asked with hurt, causing Tara to stop and turn around. She noticed the hurt look on your face, and she instantly wanted to wrap you in her arms and never let go, but she refused to give in easily.

“Because, Y/N, he invited me to go with him as his date. And who knows, I might even get lucky tonight,” Tara replied as she crossed her arms. She had no intention of sleeping with Chad; she just wanted to make you jealous enough so you’ll finally make a move on her, but Tara soon found out how wrong she was.

With a defeated sigh, you slumped your shoulders and spoke with a heartbroken voice, “I didn’t know you truly felt that way towards him. I hope he gives you the world then, Tara. You deserve that kind of love. I hope you have fun tonight, and just so you know, I am so sorry and I don't want to lose you.”

When you finished talking, you gave Tara a tight-lip smile as you turned around and walked toward your apartment. You were just outside your door when you felt a tiny hand slip into yours, pulling you around. You barely have time to respond before Tara crashes her lips against yours.

You were so shocked to feel her lips against your own you just stood there like an idiot before you finally broke out in a grin and kissed her back. When you kissed her back, you felt butterflies in your stomach, and your entire body became warm the more Tara kissed you. You grabbed her hips and pulled her closer, needing to feel her body against yours. Tara parted her lips to deepen the kiss, and your knees almost buckled.

When oxygen was needed, you two pulled away, resting your foreheads together. You two could hear nothing but the sounds of each other trying to catch your breaths and the drums of your hearts. You placed one final kiss on Tara’s lips and pulled away from her. “Are you still going out with Chad?” You asked with a slight frown; you really wanted to hang out with Tara after what just happened, but you were still unsure of where you stood with her.

She laughed as she grabbed your hand and opened your apartment door. “Not a chance,” she whispered against your lips, pulling you into your apartment before closing the door.

That was four weeks ago, and today you are preparing a dinner for yours and Tara’s one-month anniversary. She told you it didn't have to be anything special, as you two would have many more months together in the future, but you insisted on doing something nice. You were cutting up some steaks in the kitchen while Tara made homemade mashed potatoes. “Do you think Sam would want any?” You ask, breaking the silence.

“I don’t know. You should ask her though. I think she’s on the couch,” Tara replies as she mashes the potatoes in a saucepan. You nod at her words and head into the living room with the knife still in your hand.

Sam was lying on the couch watching tv. She wanted to stay home tonight to keep an eye on you and Tara, but she wanted to give her sister some amount of privacy.

“Hey, Sam, I'm getting ready to make some steak. Would you like some?” You ask, pulling Sam’s attention away from the tv. She leans up, and her eyes instantly land on the knife, dripping with blood. Her mind is filled with thoughts of Tara, and her body reacts before she can even think; her hands grab your arm and flips you over the couch and onto the coffee table, breaking it. She quickly takes the knife out of your hand and presses her right knee into your chest, making breathing hard for you. The action slightly turned you on, and you mentally murdered yourself for thinking that way about your girlfriend’s sister.

“What the fuck was-oh my god, Sam! Get off of her!” Tara screams as she runs into the living room, pulling Sam off your chest. You suck in some air, and Tara moves to help you up, “are you okay, love? Is anything broken?” She questions while checking over your body for any injuries.

“No, I'm okay,” you say as you stand up and look at the table, “your table isn’t, though.” Tara laughs at your comment and kisses your cheek before turning toward her sister. Her caring and loving nature was gone and replaced with anger. “Why did you do that, Sam?! Y/N was just being nice!”

Sam scoffs at Tara’s words but flinches back as Tara points the knife at her, demanding an answer. Sam reaches out and pushes Tara’s hand down, “I saw the blood on the knife and freaked out. I'm sorry, Tara,” Sam mumbled with shame.

“Don’t apologize to me; apologize to Y/N,” Tara demands, still staring at her sister.

Sam glares back at her sister before looking at you. “I'm sorry I flipped you over the couch and onto the coffee table,” Sam says with a low voice as her eyes refuse to meet yours.

“It's okay, Sam. Don’t worry about it,” you say with a smile. It really was okay with you, even though you felt slightly bad about breaking the table.

After your dangerous encounter with Sam, you and Tara return to the kitchen and finish dinner. You even made Sam a plate and brought it to her room. She thanked you as she took it, and you smiled politely as a response.

You and Tara continued having small dinners at home, followed by movie nights. She would also stay up late reading her books to you as you fell asleep. You weren’t the best at reading, but you loved the stories more than anything, and you loved them even more when Tara let you lay on her chest as she read to you.

It was game night at the Carpenter’s apartment, and the core four plus the girlfriends were over, along with Quinn, but she had a ‘male friend’ over. The six of you were playing a not-so-relaxing game of Uno when muffled screams came from Quinn’s room. The group just laughed it off, believing it was just Quinn having a really good time, but when her screams became ones of pain, and she cried for help, everyone stood up from the table and ran into the living room, staring at Quinn’s door.

The apartment had fallen into an eerie quietness that sent shivers up everyone’s spine; it was as if the temperature in the room had dropped ten degrees.

“Run,” Mindy says, but before anyone can move, the door opens, and Ghostface pushes Quinn’s body out of the door, causing it to land on Anika, knocking her to the ground.

Ghostface charges out of the room and swings his knife at Mindy, cutting her arm. You push Tara into the kitchen as you grab a bat from the corner of the room. You run towards him and quickly swing it; the sound of metal meeting bone rings throughout the apartment as he collapses onto the ground.

“Come on,” you command as you grab Tara’s hand and pull her towards the door, flinging it open as you rush everyone out of the apartment. You do a quick headcount, and when you reach head number five, you shut the door and follow everyone downstairs.

Once outside, everyone regroups with their loved ones; Anika and Chad both check on Mindy’s arm as Sam holds Tara close to her chest. You walk toward Tara and Sam, and when your girlfriend sees you, she pulls away from Sam’s grasp and throws her body at you, pulling you into a crippling hug. You smile at the contact and kiss her head, thanking all the gods that your Tara was safe in your arms.

#scream #tara carpenter #jenna ortega #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x gn!reader #sam carpenter #anika kayoko #mindy meeks martin #jenna ortega x reader

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dream-a-little-bigger-x · 9 months

Text

Criminal Minds | Masterlist

SERIES

Begin Again:

Chapter One: The Savior

Chapter Two: Room 304

Chapter Three: I Know Who Did It

Chapter Four: Swimming Pool Kisses

Chapter Five: Ninety-Nine Percent

Glitter & Crimson:

Glitter and Crimson

Reader is keeping a secret from the rest of the team and they're adamant to find out. When they do, they're absolutely gobsmacked. One of them more than others...

Steady As A Drumbeat

And that ends in a night neither of them will ever forget.

A Little Less Conversation

+ The Aftermath

ONE SHOTS / IMAGINES

Memoriam

Season 4 Episode 7 rewrite -- Spencer's childhood best friend helps him on the Riley Jenkins case. Working together after years of not seeing each other brings up old memories and new feelings.

Do Re Mi

Spencer's next-door-neighbor comes into the BAU, distressed, saying that her ex-boyfriend was the person responsible for the recent string of kills happening in D.C.

Truly Madly Deeply

Spencer comes home from a case and wakes up next to reader. Inspired by One Direction's 'Truly Madly Deeply'.

Johnny and Dora

Spencer and Reader go undercover together to catch the most prolific identity thief in New York. What happens on the case might spark a shift in their relationship. Inspired by the Brooklyn 9-9 episode with the same name.

When?

Reader is tired of always coming in second place. Even when her and Spencer have split up, she's still looking over her shoulder as though he'd still be there. When will that end?

When The Girls Talk Boys

Spencer and Reader talk to their friends about one another, which causes their co-workers to find out about their secret relationship. Inspired by Girls Talk Boys by 5SOS.

Nothing is Accidental

After hearing Spencer's talk on a conference, Reader tests her luck and talks to the young Doctor. It sparks a new friendship, partnership and maybe even more. Rewrite of Season 7 Episode 11: True Genius

Dream Away The Dark

Four times where Reader comforts Spencer after a bad dream and one time where Spencer does the same for Reader.

Hunting Monsters

Halloween is Reader's favorite holiday and she plans to implement that love into her child's life, too. When little Poppy tells Reader she doesn't want to go trick-or-treating, Reader and her husband's co-workers help her convince the tiny genius.

I’m Recharging

How Spencer and Reader's ritual of 'recharging' began.

Tongue Tied

Reader is invited to her best friend's birthday party where she meets Dr. Spencer Reid. An instant connection is made.

Meet Me On The Courtyard

Spencer encounters his neighbor from across the yard, dancing around in her apartment until she catches him. They decide to properly meet on the courtyard.

You Owe Me A Date

Spencer and Reader plan to go out on a date. When she doesn't show up, Spencer gets worried.

You Knock The Wind Out Of Me

Spencer clearly dislikes Reader, but when she tries to ask him why, he evades the question. Only her boyfriend being disrespectful towards her forces her to admit his true feelings.

A Man After Midnight

Spencer and Reader are best friends since they were kids. When Reader is set to marry James, Spencer decides to give her the bachelorette party of her dreams. Only he wishes it were him she was about to marry...

Girls Can't Drive

Where a case hits reader a little too hard. Spencer doesn’t get why it’s hitting his girlfriend so hard until she finally tells him how hard it is to be a woman sometimes.

Annotations

Spencer finds a book in the breakroom one time and when he starts reading it, he noticed the notes in the margins. What quickly develops as a love written in the margins of several books, might have to step out into the real world soon.

King of My Heart

Spencer has always taken care of reader. Whether it was giving reader food before they realized they were hungry or buying them coffee, ... Tiny gestures that made it impossible for reader not to fall in love with him.

This Love Is Ours

Reader and Spencer are best friends with obvious feelings for one another. When Spencer ends up in prison, Reader gets angry at him, which keeps them from visiting him. But once she does, there's no pane of glass that would keep them apart.

Mine (Spencer's version)

Spencer reminisces about the first time he met Reader.

New Romantics

After a bad breakup, Reader and her friends go out to party where she meets one young FBI agent. Suddenly, she'd forgotten her ex even existed and was more interested in getting to know the stranger.

I Can See You

When Penelope's best friend comes to help out the BAU on a couple of cases, there's an immediate connection with the youngest of the team. After longing glances, soft touches and wild fantasies, the truth comes out accidentally. What is the resident genius going to do with that information?

There's A 100% Chance I'm Gonna Marry You

The team doesn’t even know of her existence but when Spencer can’t get a hold of her, he gets worried. Now he has no other choice than to tell his coworker about her.

I Think He Knows

JJ invites her best friend, a linguistics professor, to help out on a couple of cases. When she and Spencer work together, something sparks between them.

Maybe We'll Take Some Time

Spencer and Reader broke up five weeks ago. When he comes knocking on her door, crying about a friend's death, their love is resparked.

HANDS

Spencer's hands are lovely and as he placed them on Reader's cheeks, it was the only way to calm her down. So, when Reader comes home breaking down after a difficult day at work, he's quick to calm her down.

The Stranger

Spencer and Reader are coworkers and best friends. When Reader gets hurt on a case, Spencer's feelings for Reader are bared.

Floored Decisions

Many decisions were made on the floor of their apartment. One day, she asks him a very important question.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jason gideon #jj #jennifer jareau #elle greenaway #emily prentiss #david rossi #penelope garcia #fanfiction #nele's masterlist

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bamsara · 2 years

Note

Oo oo oooh number 7?

Drunk! Reader x DCA (Moon Centric) Set Post-Fire / DCA is living with Reader. May contain slight spoilers for Solar Lunacy ARC 3.

AO3 Link (preferred if you want to comment!)

NOTE: This one was HIGHLY requested by several people omg. This one-shot is leaning more romantic, contains drinking and suggestive humor. Moon is caring for a drunken reader. Wordcount: 3,700+

It started out as a friendly invite from a couple of classmates, a few who's names you remember and some others that you'd hardly recall their faces, but you all faced the same hellish finals together, neck deep in studying and deadlines that the lack of aqqauintance with them didn't so much as matter as the mutual understanding that college was hell, and final exams were the metaphorical boss battle you all had to face against.

You pass by the skin of your teeth. Between what was happening outside of classes and your own habit of procastinating, you were close to calling it quits for the semester. But Sun was helpful going over the material for you, and Moon kept you from being distracted, so you pass. Barely, and you're already stressed to the nines, but it's enough.

So when your classmate messages the class's group chat (much to the proffessor's charigin) about a group outing at a local bar to celebrate, you agree. You haven't been able to be social lately, and some reprieve was needed. You didn't really drink, and the bar wasn't really your style, but a change of pace was in order. Gramps promises to answer the door for the Attendants if something came up, but they liked to bother him reguardless when you weren't home, so you leave with a quick goodbye to do a little celebratory socializing.

And that's how you're....here. Drunk and alone.

Turns out after the first hour, everyone scampered off to go get hitched or call it for the night. It was nice, but a majority of them are dispersed by now or in pockets, save for one classmate (Brittney? Becky? You don't remember) who's actaully chatting it up with the robot bartender.

She's twirling her hair around her finger and blantently flirting with the robot in plain view, probably as tipsy as you are. It's a scene you glance over at occasioanlly in amusement while you nurse your own drink. The robot doesn't seem bothered, but then again, you can't tell if it's able to even display emotion like that.

Though, you did notice it never shooed her away, never charged for her second drink and was currently pouring flavored water into her shot glass while she laughs at some sort of joke it makes that you don't hear.

Kinda funny how far along human and robot relations have come, hasn't it?

You sip at your own drink again, finishing it off, and stand up from your chair-

-and that's a bad idea. The world spins, tilts far left to the side until you grip the side of the counter to pull yourself back down to the chair and wait for the disortion to subside.

Out of the corner of your eye, the bartender's mechanical eyes flit to you for a split second, then return back to Brenda. (Or Bethany. Who knows.)

How embarressing.

Pulling out your phone, you check the time. It's late at night, almost the early hours of the morning. The bar is open for now, but will close soon enough by the time you wait for the tipsy to pass and sobering to start, and to be fair, it just doesn't dawn on you to ask for water when you're a bit too preoccupied trying to not be dizzy.

Walking home alone like this is...probably not a good idea.

Gramps is in your speedial, along with another number you've put in here fairly recently.

(You did teach them how to use the phone properly, right? Oh, you'll feel so terrible if you have to wake Gramps up at this hour, the poor old guy.)

(You can probably make it home by yourself. It's just a ten minute walk.)

(Maybe you can ask someone here for a ride home. Nevermind. The last remaining of your known classmates are either arguing in the corner, leaving as you watch and Brooklyn's flirts with the robot bartender is becoming more and more riskay by the minute.)

"It's late."

You blink. In your hand, your phone screen says you're in a call. You're finger is still pressing over the spot where you selected the contact. Oops. Did you mean to do that? "Uh.-"

A sound from the speaker thats soft spoken and slow. You press it up against your ear to hear it better amongst the bar's chatter, and a low voice repeats itself. "You should be sleeping."

You can't pick up the meaning in his tone. You're too muffled in your own brain to make out the ends of his sentences that you just rock back in your chair and hum in your throat. "Heya...Hi." You start, voice slurring. "Hi Moon."

There's a pause on the other end of the call. "Where are you?"

"Uh, same place. You know." You wave your hand off and don't feel stupid that he couldn't see your gesture. "The uh, bar down the road. The one with the big neon sign in the front. Looks like kinda like ah, a...banana. The thing, curved thing on the front."

"Okay." Moon sounds tired, except robots don't get tired, and that's just what he usually sounds like whenever he's dealing with your shenanigans, or something particularly difficult. Sometimes he says you're difficult, but not in the way that feels mean. "Stay there."

"Well, I can't, dumbass I gotta get home at some point. Bar closes soon." You huff into the phone. "Was gonna leave here in a bit, anyways. Just need to sit for a minute."

"A minute." Moon repeats. His voice echoes like he's talking to you from a stairwell.

"Yeah-huh. Like, a minute." You lean back in your chair confidently, then immediatly lean back towards the counter as the legs started to tip the other direction and forgoe any movement to just lean against the bartop. "Didn't mean to call you. My finger slipped."

He hums, and it sounds less than convinced. "Hmm. How much?"

"How much...what?" The end of your question is drawled out with your lack of sobriety.

"Nevermind." Footsteps, air against the phone speaker. Moon speaks plainly. "Did you have fun?"

"Man, whats with you and the questions?" You blow air out of your nose, your free hand thumbing minelessly for your shot glass and looking up from the wooden counterop when you feel something different.

A glass of ice water was set next to you, replacing what little alcohol you had left in your cup. The bartender is on the other side of the room, still talking to your classmate, but you've already seen how it's been replacing her drink with water, and frown at your own. "Aw, damn."

"Language."

"Shut uuuup." You groan into the mic, and your head plops down onto the counter, resting. "I had fun. It was...alright."

Moon makes a noise of aknowledgment, a quiet sound to continue.

"I got the lowest score in the class." You confess, almost mummbling. There's no one paying attention to you, and the bar was sparspy populated so it's not like you had anything to be embarressed over. Still, your breath comes back up to your face as you rest your head and it smells like vodka. "I mean, nothing's wrong with that. Still passed though."

He hmms through the phone. "We know. You told us."

"Got ditched." A slurred sentence, quickly continued after a moment. "Not like, ditched ditched. Like....everyone's gettin' ready to leave soon. They've got their own bubbles, m'not in them." You slow to a stop, looking around the room. There's even less people now, and with the slow music playing on the speakers, it's a nice vibe. Smelled like cigaratte smoke and alchol though.

It's relaxing. You're relaxed. That drink is really settling in, and your legs are feeling like heavy weights and your tongue easy to move when you talk. In fact, you could sit here for a few more hours under the low-lights, listening to soft music, rambling about how college is stupid and how you regret being such a lightweight. Maybe skip out on the drinks, next time. You were starting to feel tired.

"Don't tell me that yet."

You blink, blearily, head shifting to look back down at your phone. "Hmm?"

There's a small pause on the other end, a silence punctuated only by soft background noises that you can't make out through the call. "...You've been talking outloud for the past few minutes."

Minutes? It's been seconds, no way. You squint at the phone screen, ignoring the numbers in the corner for the numbers that state how long you've been on call. It's too bright for you, so you put the phone back to your ear. "S'fine. I mean't to do that."

"Sure." Moon says. "Anything else?"

"...It's uh, dark enough in here for you."

"That's nice."

"Kinda stinks, though."

"We wouldn't be able to tell."

"I think my classmate likes robots." You speak quieter, which only makes half of your sentence coherent but you continue off the drunken assumption that your rambles were making sense anyway, free hand cupped around your mouth and facing away from the flirting scene like a kindergardener giggling at juicy gossip. Luckly, your classmate is too far to hear you, and if the robot did, then it doesn't show it. "Like, likes-likes robots. She totally wants to bang it. Her. I think. I think the robots a girl."

"Uh-huh." Moon speaks dully, but you can hear faint amusement. "Good for her."

"Can robots do that? Wait, don't answer that." You bring down your phone away from your ear to glance back up towards said classmate like you were scared of getting caught gossipping. You were, in a sense, not the best at being subtle, but both the bartender robot and your classmate are now seated at a booth away from the counter, holding their own conversation.

You stiffle a small gasp. "Holy shit, I think they're hitting it off."

Moon does the robot equivlanet of a sigh. "Don't stare."

"Right. Rightrightrightright-" You turn away quickly, curling back into yourself like some child caught in the act. "I'm not-I'm not staring-Wait, how didja even know I was looking?"

The sound of a car driving past, a door softly opening. "We know you. You're nosy."

"You're mean." You huff, phone pushed into the space between your ear and neck, using the countertop to rest your head. "I want to go home."

"Mmhm."

"Can robots make out?" The question is so out-of-the-blue you can almost feel the whiplash you send through the phone. "Because I think they're about to. Becky, uh. Brianna. I don't know her name. They're like, really getting along. M'not staring by the way. I'm glancing."

"Okay."

"Is it like, all robots can do it or just some of them? I don't know if, it's like-uh, like..is that insensitive? Am I offensive?"

"No."

"If I google it do I get weird pictures or do I get an answer?"

"Both."

"Can I ask you a question?" You continue. "A totally...not weird question. Maybe kinda weird. Not the weirdest thing I've asked you. Anyway, can you-?"

Click.

You raise your head, looking down at the phone as it flashes the 'call ended' words before going back to your home screen. In a tipsy gasp, your mouth drops open. He hung up on you! Why that little-

"Ask again when you're sober."

A low voice startles you, and you spin around and almost falll off your chair in the motion.

Moon stands behind you, phone still in hand but lowering to pocket it in his hoodie. (Plain, simple, the biggest one you could find to fit them. He still wears his star pants and ribbons but at least he took the bells off his slippers.) and glowers down at you with a quiet look. He has the hood pulled up, even with the hat on, and it just makes his eyes glow a little more in the low-lights.

His hand raises to the glass of water, now with most of it's ice melted, and slides it across the counter towards you. "Drink."

You blink blearily at him, and it's out of synch. "When did you get here-"

"Drink." He repeats, hoisting the glass up to your face until you grumble something innapropriate and snag it from him. You chug it down rather quickly while he waits, and the room never quietens in the few seconds that it takes, but you listen to the conversations out of habit.

Bailey and the bartender robot were definatley gonna start dating or something, and your classmate didn't even look drunk anymore, just a bad flirter. Most of the people in the bar were humans (why would robots come here? They can't drink, and they'd be outnumbered 10 to 1 anyways) save for the other two automations you think are quietly hanging out outside, but it's mostly flesh and blood.

A quiet 'where did that one come from? the circus?' reaches your ears as soon as you finish the water, dropping the glass down on the table and turning your head to whatever human spoke but Moon inturrupts you. A sleeved arm holds out in front of you. "Stand up. Here."

"Don't tell me what to do." Comes out slurred and stuffed up, but the world tilts when you lift yourself off the chair, so your hands find his arm and your balance steadies. "I want to go home."

"Mmm." Moon turns, slowly so you don't get stick, and leads you to the door. "It's past your bedtime."

"Dun't have a bedtime."

"You will tonight." You are lead past the remaining patrons, who don't really care about your departure save for the one or two off-hand glances. Moon opens the door with one hand, holding it open, and guides you through. "Come on."

Your classmate turns your way, and you register her throwing up two thumbs up in your direction with a wide, encouraging smile just as the door shuts behind you. Whoops.

The bar's neon light is bannaa shaped because of some island-theme they had back before redesign that never got taken down, but in your shifting vision and the night's dim lights, it kinda looks like a cresent moon. This is something you voice outloud without meaning to, and Moon spares your thoughts with a glance to the sign, and a chuckle before he leads you down the sidewalk.

Walking is...well, it's taking some bit of effort. Everything felt kinda heavy, your stomach was starting to churn and you needed to use the restroom soon. Maybe you could get home faster if you speed-walked or something, or took a shortcut. You pull away from the guiding arm out for you. "I can walk."

"Okay." And so Moon lets you pull away, standing straight and watching as you take a few tentive steps. You fumble on your fifth step, but the ground never has a chace to rush towards you. A hand around your shoulders, tight but never lower, presses you back towards the Attendant until your own grip finds his upper arm and dig your fingernails into the sleeve.

He's walking before he even asks again. "Want to try again."

Your nose wrinkles up, and whatever word you had formlated in your mind comes out garbled and incoherent. "Heuh."

"....Guess not."

It's peaceful walking at night. Sometimes cars would pass by on this road, and the bright headlights would make your eyes sting but you never ran into anything. Fireflies start to appear in scarcity as you approuch your apartment, rambling about your classmates and the exam and how the vodka didn't taste at all how the bar marketed to be while your animatronic guide is quiet with the occasional noise of aknowledgement, and very focused on making sure you don't trip on every pebble you see.

"This is kinda like...when you escorted me to the doors, back at the pizzaplex." You talk outloud again, and there's no sting in your voice when you're drunk. "You know, ya escorting me."

Moon doesn't look up from the keypad to your apartments, jotting in the number (because just hacking it served you a few complaints from maintenence) and hums. "It is."

You are lead through the opened door, and into the stairwell. "But like, this time you get to come home with me."

"Every night." Moon adds, and finds the door to your apartment without so much as turning on the light in the hallway. It's nearly pitchblack, but you're not scared or bothered by the lack of sight in the slightest. The perks of having a robot friend with night vision means free avoidance of bumping into walls. You hear the clacking of keys, and the door opens. "Inside-"

You go in before he can finish, using the wall and the kitchen counter to steady you until you make it to the living room and the adjacent hallway. The lights are off for obvious reasons, but the living room lamp is on, so it's just enough light for you to make out your path. The world still tilts, although it's weakening, you barely manage to make it to the bathroom door, yelling out some incoherent 'illbeouutinasecond' before you swing the door shut.

When you come back out, Moon is in the kitchen, and he turns to see you almost plank on the sofa cushions for a rest. You miss, bounce off the edge of the seats and faceplant on the floor instead. "...oww."

Soft padded footsteps approuch you, and you are unceramounsly yanked up by the back of your shirt until you're placed on the cushions (he lifted you effortlessly and carefully, but you still groan like an elephant at the movement) and turned over until you're facing upwards, sitting back against the cushion on the back arm rest.

Something wrapped in a napkin is shoved in front of your face. "Eat."

You smell it before you can process seeing it. A plain, peanut butter and jelly sandwich, which you take into your hands, pull away the napkin and take a huge bite before you can say your appreciation properly without a mouthful "Thhansk."

There's no response, but a hand comes up to your forehead, brushing back against your scalp and gentle running through your hair. His hand lingers there as Moon crouches besides the couch. The hoodie is gone now, so it's just his hat and t-shirt. You can see his soft smile more clearly. "You need to go to bed when you're done."

You talk inbetween bites. "M'not moving."

"Then stay here." He rises, knuckles brushing across your ear as his hand moves and disappears down the hallway. You're on the last bites of your sandwhich when he reappears with a blanket and pillow in hand, along with a folder you recognize with stars and moons in it's printed pattern.

The blanket is tossed over your legs and feet, and the folder is set to the coffee table besides you along with a pen. In your approuching bare-sobreity, you recognize the papers peeking out from the edge. Moon sits down besides the couch, back facing you, and opens up to where he left off presummably before he came and retrieved you.

He grades papers while you finish your sandwich and peek nosely over his shoulder. "You never answered my question."

Moon does not look up from grading his student's papers. "I haven't."

"Gimmie answer."

"Silly." He starts, marking an answer wrong and setting that finished paper to the side. His voice never breaks from the calm tone. "Asking personal questions, gossiping in public like that. Intoxicated."

"I wasn't the only one." You defend, and realize that's not exactly a factor that can play in your favor, so you search your clouded tipsy brain for another answer. "Look, listen. I was dared to do shots. I don't..., uh, drink. Like ever. M'lightweight. But I'm not a coward."

The animatronic's head turns towards you on his swivel. "Bad decision. Probably already tipsy."

"Hey-" You warn, pointing a finger in his face. "The amuont of drunk I was has no corrolations-" That last word comes out fumbled. You ignore how Moon's smile twitches upwards. "-no corrolations to the bad decisions I've made."

"Sure." Moon chuckles, onto the next batch of ungraded papers in his folder. "You make plenty of those."

You make a notable effort to brush off any of the crumbs on your shirt in his direction. "You weren't a bad decision."

The monotonous sound of pen scratching pauses for a moment. Then continues. "Debatable."

"Booo." You groan, your disagreement echoing in the living room and silence settling between you two only broken by pages turning and pen scratching.

Sinking into the sofa and watching him work becomes a lullaby, and you feel sleep teter at the edge of your mind as the animatronic finishes up the current page, closing the folder and setting it to the side. Moon pushes the folder to the center of the coffee table, left out to finish the rest later, and you puff up your cheeks to blow air at his face when he turns back to you.

He doesn't even squint, just stares dully at you until you've finish. "Thanks for getting me."

His head tilts. "Mhmm."

Your cheek presses further into the pillow. Nausea is there, something in the pit of your stomach, but it is long buried by the promise of sleep. "But for the record, I didn't ask for you to take care of me."

A blurred movement in the corner of your eye. His hand has returned, settled against your head with his thumb gently running over your skin. "We didn't ask for your permission."

"....M'gonna be hungover in the morning."

"Yes." Moon grin in a way that's both soft and amused. You wonder if his sunny counterpart would be this teasing too, considering that's who's most likely going to be rubbing your back when you're kneeled over the toilet in the morning. "You will be very hungover. Go to sleep."

You mummble something in protest, but your eyes close nonetheless. "M'sleeping already. Geeze."

Your response is a quiet hum, and the hand brushing against your forehead in slow motions until you start to drift away. That hand lingers, softley, and doesn't return to the pen until the world fades and you are well into slumber.

#fnaf sb #fnaf #fnaf moon #fnaf sun #fnaf the daycare attendant #writings #moon x reader #sun x reader #Solar Lunacy #Solar Lunacy Arc 3 #drabbles #x reader #cw alcohol #cw drunk

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wolfsrainrules · 27 days

Text

Me, Staring into the Night: Oh No

Discussed with @deepwithintheabyss on discord, and as a result:

I'm just Saying. I have been contemplating a Jurassic World in DC verse (with the understanding that I have not actually READ nor SEEN much DC content and am working off fandom.)

Jurassic World, as in, a JW that has done the work to hide and defend their island from super villains and various heroes poking their heads in. The full nine yards, everything they could possibly stop- and all that focus on "outside" threats? It's what allows the internal issues that result in the mess that is JW.

The thing though? Jurassic World still needs sponsors and Batfam has still been trying to get a look into that- because it should not be left unchecked. Legally they can't send a hero in. But Timothy Drake-Wayne, CEO of WE and potential sponsor and good word on JW? That they would allow. So if he gets a VIP access tour to 'tempt him into sponsoring Jurassic World" that's supposed to last a week or two...

They've already got the park operating on front of house, and they have a camp with six kids who got sent in. What's one more VIP who could get them a ton of money, and may sponsor their work and expand what they're doing? Thing is- VIP access means that technically, Tim isn't supposed to have any tech that operates inside without proper access. He knows it CAN be gotten, because there's a kid here- Brooklyn?- that is a very popular vlogger who is allowed to record and post things. He's also not here as a Bat, but as Timothy Drake-Wayne and that comes with some handicaps to what he's able to do int he open.

So he has to look like he doesn't have access to anything, can't be caught snooping around, and also is instinctively keeping an eye on the kids when he's in the same areas they are.

And then. And then the park goes down. Assets are out of containment. And we have this really shitty time, where Tim has to figure out how the hell to get them all off, when the protections from outside 'interference' mean that the heroes cannot set foot on Jurassic World, Jurassic Park, or anything within without causing a hell of an issue. Interference also means Tim can't get the emergency signal out. The only thing allowed out of JW is what's done on it's own network. He needs to find a way to hook into it, when the power is shot. Would it stop them? No. Especially not when people are dying, and definitely not the BatFam when Tim is on the island.

Problem? By all rights, the island was evacuated of all survivors. So far as anyone can determine, the others are dead, and the island is overrun with assets that got loose.

Tim didn't make it off.

And Tim doesn't have a functioning access to internet OR signal to get a call out, the white noise machines and everything else are blocking him from just yelling for evac. He technically doesn't have any BAT- grade tech or supplies for himself- this was Timothy Drake-Wayne that went in after all. He didn't bring anything big while he snooped. He had some things, yes, but not for this level of FUBAR.

The BatFam are losing their minds. The world is saying Tim died on the island, since he didn't get off. Tim is struggling to find a way to get a message out. BatFam refuses to accept that Tim is dead until it can be confirmed.

And then.

And then the kids and Tim get the generators back on. And everything has gone to hell, but the power means Tim has a way to get something out. A way to hook into the network finally

It's not perfect. It involves him making trips to the faculty, and a LOT of tech-work so he can get these things routed properly, that he's not even sure are WORKING. And he can't leave the kids either- this island has tried to kill them all over and over again, he's not willing to let them wander around alone.

So he sends something like video diaries out, careful to maintain that he is a civilian trying to reach his dad, with six other kids surviving with him.

Bruce absolutely FLIPS when he gets the first video. Tim is front and center, looking like literal hell, blood smeared on his face, dirt and mud, a ruined set of dress pants, a stolen set of boots (because Timothy would have been in dress shoes for something like this, so he hadn't had his good shoes with him) an absolutely stained, ripped, and ruined dress shirt, smeared face, just- looking like he's survived dinos, and kept kids alive doing it.

Bruce cries. That's his boy. He's not dead. He's not dead. Oh God.

So Bruce gets an update, Tim talking about what happened, that he's not dead, he's surviving with six kids- who all pop into frame and frantically try to cram as much "NOT DEAD HI MOM AND DAD AND SIBLINGS" into the video while Tim is still trying to update everything.

And then the video ends with Tim's head- and six children's as well- all snapping to the side while there's a large echoing clank and the shadow of a dino. And the last image is Tim reaching forward to send the video out, hoping it gets through.

He takes a tablet hooked intot he system, and uses that to film various updates around the park while surviving. A sneaky update on what exactly the park has done, as well as continuous updates on their survival for their families. He has to trek back to the generator room to actually post these out but he's sending them.

The systems aren't great. Sometimes the videos go through a little glitchy, sometimes they get sent out of order. The uploading speed is shit, and occasionally corrupted videos go out due to a sudden need to stop or a flicker in power or any other number of factors.

But Bruce recognizing the chance to use the videos as proof that his kid is still alive- as are six other family's children, and he can bring this forward to get to the island quicker and by leagal means.

It's a huge thing in Gotham, Bruce Wayne's kid on this island surviving, These six kids he's helping. Their families all coming to Gotham to back Bruce on their crusade to get their kids out. Public pressure building as more and more videos go out, more and more people watch what they're going through.

They don't have to get themselves off the island. Bruce Wayne, their families, and public pressure all combine to get a rescue sent out to them. And sure it takes a little bit to get put together, but Bruce Wayne is funding it, and he will not rest until his son is home, until all of these kids are home.

The families all bond over the trauma of their children being on a death trap of an island. And the work to get them off of it. The relief they're ALIVE. The horror of what they'd gone through. The terror of not knowing if they're STILL alive. The fear-terror-hope of waiting for the next video update, hoping it's one that actually WORKS, that isn't corrupted or cut off cause of some disaster. The trauma of seeing their children on these videos, seeing the changes, and the rough surviving, of thinking your kids were dead only to find out NOPE they're in a historical horror of predator species that would eat them instead.

And Bruce knows Tim is capable. He knows he is. He also knows Tim would do whatever was necessary to get the kids home alive and whole.

And that? That's terrifying for Bruce. Because he knows Tim would jump in front of those kids to save them. His mind is running every worse case scenario through. He knows the (official) list of dinos that are in the park. He can imagine exactly how wrong an encounter could go. And then he gets the video updates of Tim and the kids explaining hybrids and the horror of THAT. So he's not even sure what the hell the kids are running into, and THEY don't even know, because they're could absolutely be more, so many more and-

And then you have Tim's brothers. His brothers who get the news he's presumed dead after the park goes wild and there's late videos and all kinds of things going live as survivors get off the island and into range of posting again, without access to JW's network. His brothers who all wait, all scared, all worried, for him to step off a ferry. Only he doesnt. Only he's one of many names presumed dead. And oh they aren't willing to leave it at that. The hero community is pushing for their ability to look into the park and what went wrong, but by all accounts- Tim is supposed to be dead.

And while they keep hoping, thinking, not without a body, and even still- there's every chance there ISNT one on an island full of dinosaurs. There's plenty of videos from those who escaped of paradactyls flying off with people, of various dinosaurs outside containment and the chaos and panic of it. Of deaths caught on camera and everything else. They're trying. But they're not even sure if-

And then Bruce gets the video. And they are right there with him in using the proof to get to the island faster, to save him, and the kids he's with, and just-

And there's HOPE and horror. Because he's alive! He is. But he's lost weight, and he's so obviously working to keep these six other children alive, and surviving and all the horror of that, and just-

It's such a mess.

But they are all there, every family, when they go and get the survivors.

There's tears and fierce hugs. And every kid has to introduce themselves to everyone's families. And every parent has to thank Tim for being there for their kids, for saving them, for not abandoning them for FIGHTING for them- because they all have stories.

And Tim did his level best to be there for these kids, to lead, to save, to keep safe. His very, very best. And the parents are so so thankful for it.

And if Tim meets each of his kids parents from the arms of a different family member (Alfred, Bruce, Dick, Damian, Jason, Cass, Duke, Steph, Babs...) the kids are happy to see Tim getting the support they couldn't give him, no matter how much they tried.

#crossover fun #Jurassic World #Batman #DC #camp cretaceous #Tim Drake #Jurassic Park #fic idea #wolf talks #wolfsrainrules #Batfam #long post #kind of rambling

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incorrect-nevermore · 11 months

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Nevermore headcanons-

• Morella is fluent in Irish and Pluto speaks just enough, Gaelic that they can hold a conversation, just barely.

• Lenore and her entire family are fluent in Dutch, with the exception of Lucille, who can understand it most times, but cannot speak or write it. Lenore and Theo would talk shit about people at parties in Dutch.

“Mijn heer, wat is dat voor verspilling van fijne kleding die meneer Asher als jas draagt?”

“Echt, heeft hij dat geblinddoekt uitgekozen?”

• Lenore of course also curses in dutch.

“AH! Neuken!”

“Wat doet deze klootzak nu?”

“Ik ben deze shit beu.”

• Annabel smokes cigars, but of course has to hide it as women smoking in 1800s and early 1900s was scandalous. You guys seen Brooklyn Nine-Nine? Ya know the scenes with Amy trying to hide her shame cigarettes? Yeah that was what she had going on the entire time she was alive. Lenore is very homo about it. (Thank @likeastars for this one lads)

• Lenore has the alcohol tolerance of like a rhino or something, she’s probably got a bit of nordic ancestry in there somewhere, what do you expect? Same with Berenice and Duke. Annabel however, she’s not exactly a lightweight, she’s English, has pretty decent alcohol tolerance, however, compared to these guys? She’s out. Ada and Will on the other hand? Are absolutely lightweight. First place is a tie between Pluto and Morella for strongest alcohol tolerance. Pluto doesn’t even drink often he’s just from the north.

• Lenore doesn’t get drunk very often on account of her mother’s possible drinking problem and it sometimes reminding her of the effects of ether, every now and again, maybe? But she avoids it most of the time. She’s the designated sober person at most of the misfits parties.

• Theo does not enjoy smoking, he does not like the taste, the feel, or the smell of it. But since it was a thing in the 1800s for gentlemen to smoke and drink together, he has to just awkwardly put up with it, since denying to smoke with someone could be interpreted as not considering them good company, and not wanting to spend time with them. Or not enjoying smoking, could be considered “unmanly”Lenore is trying not to laugh at him as he’s like, resisting the urge to throw up his lungs.

• Since Annabel apparently DOES NOT ACTUALLY LIKE EARL GREY TEA OR SCONES - (I know I was shocked too). I have decided to her give a sweet tooth and say she prefers sweeter drinks and pastries. Hot chocolate and chocolate croissants or churros kinda gal.

(But those didn’t exist at time- *gunshot* HUSH)

•Modern au! Lenore tries a sip of Annabel’s drink order and gets blasted back Halloween as a kid with the amount of sugar, cream, cinnamon, and chocolate in the thing

Lenore: Holy- Annabel this is enough sweetness to put someone in a coma! I mean it’s great, but still-

Annabel: It could be worse I could be insane like Prospero and just get a shot of plain, bitter espresso.

Lenore: heh, Fair enough!

Prospero: It’s not my fault you have the taste palette of an 11-year-old, Annabel!

Pluto: I fuckin’ wish you did too! No, seriously I don’t know what he drinks, at this point I’m not even sure it’s espresso! Because I’ve tasted plain espresso, right. It’s just really bitter- I can handle that fine. But i literally will not kiss him after he’s had his morning coffee, because I can still taste it and it. is. shite.

Annabel: HA!

Prospero: ..Why would you do that?

Pluto: You need to be checked sometimes, love.

• Pluto is a pretty good game for Annabel. She still always wins, of course but Pluto is one of the few people that can manage to make her sometimes switch up her strategies or improvise new ones on the spot.

#nevermore webtoon #lenore vandernacht #annabel lee whitlock #incorrect nevermore quotes #white raven #pluto nevermore #prospero nevermore #Cat n mouse #theo vandernacth #headcanon #headcanons

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greencways · 7 months

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Fic Name: Sick Day

Pairing: Jennifer Jareau x Reader

Words: 709

Warnings: None, reader is sick (temperature raspy voice, cough, zero vomit!)

One Shot or Multiple Chapter: One Shot

Content: Reader is sick and JJ looks after her!

A/N: enjoy

————————————————————————

"Hey" JJ shook you awake gently "wake up honey we're gonna be late for work"

"Hmm?" you stirred sleepily.

"It's 7am we need to get up now babe" JJ leaned down to grab your hands to pull you out of bed.

"Your hands are freezing JJ" you flinched.

"No they're-" she stopped in the middle of her sentence as she realized it wasn't her hands who felt off "you feeling okay?" she asked as she started feeling your head.

"Yeah I'm fine" you said with a raspy voice and a slight splutter.

"You're very hot" JJ answered.

"Yes I know JJ but now is-" you started.

"I am talking about your temperature omg."

You and JJ laughed.

"Honey, you are sick though, I'm calling Hotch and I'm staying here with you" JJ offered.

"Wha- Im- no- you have to go to work Jayje" you cracked a smile.

"It's a paperwork day, plus they'll be fine without me for one day" JJ smiled as she used one hand to tuck your hair behind your ears and one hand to call your boss.

"Wait don't leave" you smiled to your girlfriend.

"You have a fever sweetheart, of course I'm not going anywhere?" she felt your temperature again.

"You'll get sick if you come too close" you warned.

"Guess I'll take that chance" she smiles as she leaned down to kiss you "I'm right here" JJ smiled "are you tired? you can go to sleep" JJ whispered as she got through to Hotch at the same time "go to sleep honey I'll be back in a second, okay?" she smiles and tucked your hair behind your ears again and squeezed your hand once.

"I'm not even tired" you yawned at the same time, making JJ laugh slightly.

Your eyes followed JJ as she left the room, you breathed a heavy sigh and tried to fall asleep.

10 minutes later as you finally managed to get some sleep JJ came back with green tea and some medicine.

"Sit up for me baby, just for a second so you can take your medicine" JJ's voice came out just above a whisper.

You groaned as you lifted yourself up "You're too good to me Jennifer" you croaked.

"No" she smiled as she bit her lip and tried to change the subject "Youre so cute when you're sick" she giggled as she held up the cup of tea for you to drink, your face crinkled into a disgusted look as you sipped your tea right after your meditation "I know it's nasty, but I need you to take it anyway" she nodded to the tea which you now pushed away.

"You need me to take it huh" your voice croaked.

"Hmm" JJ tried her best to hide her laugh.

"Well I need you to cuddle with me, right now" you cutely demanded.

"Well, how am I supposed to say no to that cute face" JJ laughed as she slowly flopped onto the bed, you held out out hand to stroke JJ's hair in front of you. "I should be doing this to you" JJ smiled up at you.

"Would you just come up here?" you smiled at JJ as you pulled her up closer to your chest which made you and JJ laugh at the same time.

"Do you want to watch anything?" JJ leaned over to get the remote.

"Come back" you groaned "It's cold without you" JJ looked back and jokingly scowled at you "Brooklyn nine nine" you muttered under your breath.

"That's much better" JJ nodded as you finally answered her question, she smiled to herself as she lifted the covers for her to get underneath to cuddle with you, running her fingers though your hair as you watched the show.

"How are you feeling?" JJ asked a couple of minutes into the show as rested her chin on my head after she kissed it.

"Better now that you are here thanks Jayje" you turned your neck to face her and kiss her. "Wait You're gonna get sick" you worried.

"It's okay Y/N don't worry" she smiled.

"You're very comfortable" you said as you leaned against her.

"Thank you honey, I love you" JJ smiled.

"I love you too" you smiled back.

#criminal minds #fanfic #aj cook #jennifer jareau #jennifer jareau x reader #jennifer jareau x you #jj x reader #yn #andrea joy cook

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5sospenguinqueen · 3 months

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Sebastian: Anyone else have the weird urge to lecture themselves?

MC: What?

Sebastian (mimicking Ominis): Sebastian, what are you doing?

Ominis (walking up behind him): Sebastian, what are you doing?

Sebastian (shrieks): I conjured him.

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photoboothphotos · 2 years

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The One

Jake Peralta x Reader - A whole year with Jake Peralta, from start to finish [1.9K Words]

Summer had made its way to New York City. The Saturday morning brought a certain busyness into the city. With the warming weather, Brooklyn is filled with friends meeting each other for brunch and tourists enjoying their vacation time at the park. You should be among them, your stomach yearning for a croissant from your favourite bakery and a cup of something other than stale coffee. But alas when your friend Terry Jeffords calls in for a favour, you answer.

You stepped into the unfamiliar precinct; the upper floor filled with detectives despite the sunny weekend. You were immediately greeted by Jeffords who was already making his way towards you with a latte and pastry baggy. You sighed in contentment graciously taking the treats in your hands and a bite of the fluffy bread.

“Thank you for coming in on your weekend off, our precinct sketch artist is out sick and one of my detectives really needs help.” The sergeant explained, quickly bringing you towards a detective desk. “This is Detective Jake Peralta; he has a witness coming in an hour for the 17th Street bank robbery. I offered my talents but, the last time that happened, it didn’t turn out so well.” There was a knowing look exchanged between the detective and sergeant.

Terry stepped away leaving you and Jake alone. You greeted him with a small Hi before making yourself comfortable in the detective’s extra chair. The detective gave you a small nod in response as you took notice of the sprawled half-completed Rubik’s cube and rubber band ball that cluttered his desk. A quiet filled the distance between you, bubbling you together.

“Let me guess,” You start, catching Jake’s attention. “Terry took too long sketching the perp and so one of your detectives asked how long it’ll take. Causing him to get annoyed and leading to…” You scanned the room, your eyes looking for any remains from the incident, “That broken coffee pot.” You concluded with a smug smile on your face while pointing at the evidence.

Jake tried to hide his smirk, bobbing his head in confirmation, “That’s impressive. That coffee pot is new though, how did you figure that out?”

“There was a sale at Goodwin's last week, and I have the same machine at home.” You smiled cheekily before turning your attention back to the buzzing of the office.

Although those sixteen words meant nothing to you, it was the beginning of everything for Jake.

From that moment on, Jake had made it his mission to get closer to you. After your encounter at the precinct, he took every opportunity to have you help out on his case files. After a series of extra-worked weekends and nights going over perp descriptions while picking at microwave nachos, he finally asked you on a real date. One date quickly turned into fifteen more before the two of became an official item in the fall.

The autumn season brought a much-needed routine into Jake’s life. His nights, previously plotless, were now filled with you. He waited patiently outside the 14th precinct for the end of your shift, his hands fidgeting with the drive-in movie tickets in his back pocket. Peralta’s face filled with excitement as he saw your figure rush towards him. His stance slightly wavered as you slammed into him with a hug, a light oof escaping his lips. He pressed a kiss on your forehead before placing another on your cheek, and then a final one on your lips – his touch saying I missed you and It’s been too long.

He tasted like coffee and a hint of peppermint, his calloused hands feeling rough on your cheek. As the two of you parted, your boyfriend wasted no time in revealing the movie he chose for your date. “Thir13en Ghosts?” You exclaimed in horror, eyes widening. “Jake, I thought we were going to watch a romantic movie.” You whined, your stomach already squirming at the thought of the potential gore and jump scares.

“Sweetheart I tried, but it’s October in New York and these were the only tickets available.” Jake's eyes pleaded, bringing your closer to his chest. “It’ll be fine. I’ll protect you; I promise.”

And Jake did.

Although you had spent most of the time watching the vivid horror scenes behind the windows of your fingers or behind the comfort of your shared blanket, Jake spent the entire hour and twelve minutes watching you. He couldn’t help but marvel at the way you instinctively turned into the comfort of his chest when a creepy figure appeared, or how you shut your eyes tight into his shoulder when you heard a scream. He kept his arm wrapped around you the entire time, even during the ride home and when the inevitable nightmares visited while the two of you slept in a shared bed that night.

If Jake had to choose his favourite sound in the world, it would be a tie between the beat of your heart and the whisper of your steady breath. He could feel both as you cuddled each other in sleep. With his insomnia getting the best of him, Peralta spent the night brushing the scrunch of your brows with his thumb, soothing your wild mind. He did feel slightly guilty for putting you through that scary movie, but he knew he’d make it up in other ways later on.

Winter arrived soon and as Jake predicted, he has thoroughly made up for your Halloween scare in a number of ways. One of which included bundling you in his scarf as the snow had blanked your figures on New Year's Eve. You walked into Shaw’s Bar; Jake following closely behind with a palm firmly placed on the small of your back. Though you abandoned your jacket on a bar stool, you kept Jake’s wool scarf tightly wrapped around your shoulders as if it would ward off any dangers. The clock stroke eleven signalling only an hour left until New Year’s.

“You guys sure took your time getting here,” Charles quipped handing each of you a beer, “Too busy smashing booties?” The detective teased, wiggling his eyebrows. Both you and Jake groaned at the innuendo, washing down the awkwardness with liquid courage. Boyle shrugged his shoulders unbothered by the situation, “Think whatever you want, we all know you were doing it.” The squad assembled together quickly at Boyles claim, adding their own remarks before the conversation changed to a discussion of resolutions and a sharing of drinks.

As the crowd buzzed with bets on who was going to get the most wasted and tipsy declarations of NO, I HAVE THE BEST BUTT OF THE NINE-NINE from the boys, Jake took the opportunity to pull you away from your hushed conversations with the girls. The room rang with a loud shout from the oasis of officers who began the countdown to the next year.

“Ten, nine, eight,…” The entire bar screamed as Jake pulled you in close, a drunken murmur of how good you looked in your dress escaping from his tongue.

“Seven, six, five…” You heard Diaz howl as she pounded back another drink, but you could only focus your attention on the look that Jake was giving you. His brown eyes were glassy dripping in colours of molasses, shining despite the darkness of the bar.

“Four, three…” Your lips couldn’t wait, your hands found the collar of the boy’s jacket before the clock had the chance to chime at midnight. Your mouths connected as the countdown finished, cheers ringing in the New Year. You smiled into Jake’s lips as you felt him kiss you back.

Jake’s hands melted into your body just like the snow did for the city’s eventual Spring. The roads were wet with dew and the season brought you much heartache. You’ve never responded to change well. So when you were transferred to another precinct across town, you found yourself overwhelmed. The wind picked up and guided you towards the subway where you’d had the worst morning of your life.

“Two men?” Rosa clarified, anger dripping through her tone. “What kind of cowards robs a woman at an underground subway stop?” She continued, venom dripping in her words. “If they were real men, they would come to fight us on the surface.”

You shook your head, shying away from the cleaning swab Amy was trying to place on your forehead, “I know it hurts, but try to stay still for a little longer.” Santiago advised as she continued to clean your wounds, carefully bandaging your scrapes.

“Gina texted; Jake is on his way back to the office,” Rosa informed. The fact made you grimace even more.

Your eyes burned from trying to hold back your tears, the last thing you wanted at this moment was to seem weak in a room of seasoned detectives. You cursed to yourself silently, frustrated by your own stupidity and obliviousness. Why couldn’t you just catch a break?

“Hey, we’re going to catch these guys. You don’t have anything to worry about.” Diaz comforted, taking notice of your trembling pout and the frustration radiating from your legs.

The two of you locked eyes, and a mutual understanding was reached as you continued to sit in silence. You turned your focus towards your fingers as you continued to play with the ends of a sweater Gina had lent you, your original top soaked and damaged from the run-in. “Yeah, I know.” You finally breathed in an almost whisper.

The sudden bang of an opening door caught your attention, your eyes meeting with the human embodiment of comfort and sunshine. “Hi,” You greeted weakly with a small wave, “How was the stake out?” You questioned with your humour providing a temporary ice pack for the twisting in your heart.

Once the other officers excused themselves, stepping out of the room, Jake bent down immediately and found your embrace. His knees supported you as you broke down, chest heaving heavily. Small kisses of I got you and Everything is going to be okay were planted on your tear-stained cheeks, his hands rubbing comforting circles on your back. The two of you sat there for what seemed like hours, Jake continuing to whisper comforting words in your ear.

The same guilt from Halloween surfaced in Peralta’s lungs. He should’ve pushed further in his offer to drive you to work, or he could’ve asked Captain Holt to transfer you to his precinct the moment he realized you were overwhelmed. Even with his spiralling, Jake knew that he would make things right again, that he was going to help catch the bad guys like he always did. But for now, his only vow was to be there for you.

Perfect, innocent, ever so lovely you.

You moved in with Jake later that spring, with a transfer to the nine-nine placed simultaneously. Though you were still shaken up, you were thankful that the worst morning of your existence bought you the best mornings for the rest of your life.

Jake caught your line of attention as you chanced a look up from your sketchbook, a blurry scene of charcoal pastels depicting your boyfriend’s frame in the Saturday morning light of your shared living room. You admired the way he held his coffee mug in one hand, with a morning comic in the other. “Hi.” You greeted quietly with sweetness lacing your voice. There was a different softness to your voice this time, one filled with domestic bliss and love.

The boy smiled back at you, eyes trying to capture your sun-kissed freckles, “Hi.”

You knew then that Jacob Jeffery Peralta was the one.

The quiet after his reply filled the air with an electric hum. And as the two of returned your attention back to your books, the same feeling from when you guys had met for the first time swelled again – a bubble encapsulating your journey together into the next season.

#jake peralta #jake peralta fic #jake peralta one shot #jake peralta imagine #jake peralta fanfic #jake peralta drabble #jake peralta blurb #jake peralta oneshot #brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn nine nine imagine #brooklyn 99 #B99 #jacob peralta #jake peralta fanfiction #jake peralta x reader #jake peralta x y/n #jake peralta x you #jake peralta story

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justforbooks · 2 months

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Iris Apfel was finally recognised as a great, original fashion stylist in her 80s, when the Costume Institute at the Metropolitan Museum in New York had a sudden gap in its 2005 exhibition schedule. Many curators knew Apfel, who has died aged 102, as a collector stashing away clothes, especially costume jewellery, both couture-high and street-market-low, so the institute asked to borrow some of her thousands of pieces.

When Apfel wore them herself, dozens at a time in ensembles collaged fresh daily, they had zingy pzazz, so she was invited to set up the displays. There was no publicity budget, and her name was modestly known only in the interior decor trade, yet the show, Rara Avis: Selections from the Iris Apfel Collection, became a huge success after visitors promoted it online. It toured other American museums, changing exhibits en route because Apfel wanted her stuff back so she could wear it.

Apfel’s grandfather had been a master tailor in Russia; her father, Samuel Barrel, supplied mirrors to smart decorators; her chic mother, Sadye (nee Asofsky), had a fashion shop. They lived out in rural Astoria, in the Queens borough of New York, where Iris was born.

As a child, her treat was a weekly subway trip to Manhattan to explore its shops, her favourites the junk emporia of Greenwich Village. She was short, plain and, until her teen years, plump, but she had style; and the owner of a Brooklyn department store picked her out of a crowd to tell her so. During the Depression all her family could sew, drape, glue, paint and otherwise create the look of a room, or a person, on a budget of cents – the best of educations.

She studied art history at New York University, then qualified to teach and did so briefly in Wisconsin before fleeing back to New York to work on Women’s Wear Daily. Furniture and fabrics were in short supply during and after the second world war, and Iris began to earn by sourcing antiques and textiles; if she could not find it, she could make or fake it cheaply.

In 1948 she married Carl Apfel, and they became a decorating team: he had the head for business and she the eye. Unable to find cloth appropriate to a period decor, Iris adapted a design from an old piece and had it woven in a friend’s family mill; she and Carl then set up Old World Weavers in 1952, commissioning traditional makers around the globe.

Photographs and home-movie footage from the next four decades showed Apfel, adorned with elan, haggling for one-off items in souks, flea markets and bric-a-brac shops. She is the most decorative sight in each shot, her ensembles put together with complex cadenzas atop an underlying, tailored, structure– they are like jazz – not a statement, but a conversation.

Apfel was the last of those 20th-century fashion exotics who presented themselves as installations. Although she wore a priest’s warm tunic to the White House (President Richard Nixon underheated the place), plus armfuls of cheap African bracelets and thigh-high boots, she was not an exhibitionist like the Marchesa Casati, and, with her vaudevillian comic timing, was far funnier than the imperious Vogue editor Diana Vreeland.

Also, she never ever bought full-price: her many rails and under-the-bed suitcases of couture were sale-price samples, chosen for their cut, fabric, skilled craftwork and colour dazzle (“Colour can raise the dead”). She might wear them over thrift shop pyjamas, or under a Peking Opera costume, with hawsers of necklaces atop. Money could not buy personal style, she said, prettiness withered, beauty could corrode the soul. All that really mattered was “attitude, attitude, attitude”.

Old World Weavers discreetly refurbished the White House under nine presidents, as well as grand hotels and private houses, before the Apfels sold the company in 1992. They retired to a quiet life in their apartment on Park Avenue, New York, its decor an extension of Apfel’s outfits (bad garment choices were cut up for cushions), and in a Palm Beach holiday home where the Christmas decoration collection stayed up all year round, along with cuddly toys and museum-class folk art. Clothes shopping, and the improvisation of an outfit, became Apfel’s daily ritual, as cooking might be to a gourmet.

But after the Met show, and a book, Rare Bird of Fashion (2007), Apfel was back in as much full-time employment as she could manage in her 80s and 90s (she had a hip replacement because she fell after stepping on an Oscar de la Renta gown). She was cover girl of Dazed and Confused, among many other publications, window display artist at Bergdorf Goodman, designer and design consultant – superb on eye-glasses; she wore large, owl-like, frames to stylise her aged face into a witty, unchanging, cartoon.

She took seriously her responsibilities to fashion students on her course at the University of Texas, teaching them about imagination, craft and tangible pleasures in a world of images.

Her career lasted – nothing was ever too late: in 2018, Iris Apfel: Accidental Icon, a book of memoir and sound style advice; in 2019, a contract with the model agency IMG; and last year, a beauty campaign for makeup with Ciaté London. The documentarian Albert Maysles trailed her for Iris (2014), filming this “geriatric starlet” – her term – as she dealt drolly with new high-fashion friends, or laughed at an “Iris” Halloween costume (glasses, a ton of bangles).

She watched as a storage loft of her antique treasures was listed in lots for sale, and as white-gloved assistants from museums that had begged a bequest boxed up her garments; she still had, and wore, the shoes from her wedding. All things, she said, were only on loan in this world, even to collectors. The point was to enjoy them to the full before bidding them good-bye.

Carl died in 2015.

🔔 Iris Barrel Apfel, decorator and fashion stylist, born 29 August 1921; died 1 March 2024

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

#just for books #iris apfel #in memoriam

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pianokantzart · 1 year

Text

If You Can’t Stand The Heat

One-shot fic. Don’t know if it qualifies as fluff/angst or hurt/comfort, but ptsd is definitely happening.

Mario and Luigi settle into a new home in The Mushroom Kingdom shortly after their victory over Bowser. Both try their best to embrace the new normal, but both have their own struggles wrapping their heads around everything they just survived.

Now posted on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46686196

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Luigi never had a kitchen to himself before. The moment he and his brother declared themselves homeowners, his entire family, near and far, pitched in to make sure they had everything they needed. The kitchen especially was stocked with all their hearts desired, as everyone in the family had a spare something: cutlery, spatulas, measuring spoons, cutting boards, cheese graters, rolling pins, crock pots, meat tenderizers, bread machines, pitchers, pots, pans, knives, blenders, choppers, slicers, mixers, grinders, peelers, juicers, shakers… Mario tried to explain that they could stock their own kitchen– the plumbing business was going great, they had money now, but nobody listened. In their own loud, pushy, overbearing way, they only wanted to make sure he and his brother were taken care of. They were family, after all.

While Luigi had always pitched in to help cook for big events and celebrations back in Brooklyn, the kitchen was his mother’s domain, kept pristine, efficient, and orderly. She was an unstoppable machine that churned out three multi-course meals a day, all made from scratch. She worked hard, poured her whole heart into every detail, and always made sure everyone was fed and taken care of. Luigi was often told– sometimes condescendingly– he took after his mother, but to him this was no insult. Quite the opposite. At last he had a kitchen of his own, and though he was cooking for a household of two rather than nine it felt like no less of a responsibility, especially given the way Mario had been for the past few days. To anyone who hadn’t lived with Mario his entire life, he seemed fine. Better than fine. He behaved like his usual self, head raised high and a spring in his step, ready to take on the world. Nobody else knew how little sleep he was getting, sitting up in bed while looking back and forth between his brother and the window like a newly-hired guard dog, waiting for the worst. Nobody else saw how his whole body shifted into a fighting stance at the slightest hint of trouble, the worry in his eyes every time Luigi stepped away for longer than a minute.

For as long as Luigi could remember, Mario treated his own life with reckless abandon while treating Luigi’s like it was more valuable than the world itself. It was only two weeks ago that they nearly lost each other, and then found each other, and then saved each other by the skin of their teeth. Luigi, feeling a little guilty, was dead set on seeing to it that all was made right again. He was happy to stick close to his brother for as long as needed, stay up talking for long hours into the night, and manage the plumbing business whenever Mario finally felt calm enough to fall asleep (no matter what time of day it was). But more than anything he kept their new house clean and organized, intent on ensuring every square inch of it truly felt like home– a safe haven where nothing could hurt them.

Of course, their first home-cooked meal would be a major milestone, and what better way to launch their kitchen than with an old-fashioned Italian pizza? Luigi layered the sauce and the mozzarella on the freshly stretched dough while the oven preheated, singing “Che La Luna” to himself while Mario sat in the living room, trying to beat the first boss of Kid Icarus.

“You sure you don’t want any help, Luigi?” “I said I’ve got this!” Luigi called back, pausing his singing as he added fresh basil leaves and a sprinkle of salt. “I’m almost done. Dinner in five!”

Luigi plucked up the pizza peel by handle and headed toward the oven, pleased with his handiwork. He picked the tune back where he left off, taking a moment to twirl proudly in his apron as he crossed the kitchen floor. “C' 'na luna mezz'u mare Mamma mia m'a maritare!…” He carefully held his creation in his right hand as he leaned down and opened the oven door. “Figlia mia a cu te dare Mamma mia pensace-”

The blast of heat hit him. Luigi suddenly stopped singing. He had been so lost in his own thoughts… he didn’t even expect the oven to feel like this, five hundred degrees fahrenheit slamming against his cheeks like a heavy blow. Blindsided by the sensation, an uncontrollable tremor slowly overtook him, the pizza he had so carefully prepared falling out of his hands, clattering to the tile floor.

“Lu! You okay?” Luigi didn’t hear Mario’s voice. The comforting presence one room over disappeared under an ocean of fear that crashed down upon him, suffocating him. The cozy kitchen, the golden light of evening streaming through the open window, and the smell of yeast and flour evaporated under ash and sulfur, boiling magma lapping at his feet and red-hot iron bending beneath his hands. His heart pounded so hard he felt like it was about to burst, blood rushing to his head and turning his mind inside out while it desperately attempted to grasp reality… This wasn’t real! It was over! He was safe! He was home! He… Heat. He was trapped. He was burning. Luigi leapt back from the oven, hitting himself against the island table as he fell. Hard stone, sharp claws, bony hands, crushing scales, falling debris. Heat. Oppressive, inescapable as death.

“Mario!” Luigi screamed his brother’s name on instinct, unaware he was already in the doorway, rushing to his side.

“Luigi! what’s wrong?” Mario took hold of his brother. Luigi tried to wriggle out of his grasp as though his life depended on it. He shook violently, pressing his hands tightly to his face as he screamed again, voice cracking with terror and desperation.

“Mario!”

“I’m here Lu! I’ve got you!” With some effort, Mario managed to force Luigi’s hands away from his face. He held Luigi’s cheeks and looked into his eyes– they were wide, tearful, looking past everything toward some undisclosed horror in the middle distance. At last they shifted, returning to the present world, settling upon the face in front of him. He shivered terribly, his breathing shallow, his brow soaked in sweat as recognition finally dawned on him. “… Mario?”

“I’ve got you.” Mario pulled Luigi close, pressing their foreheads together as they sat on the kitchen floor, surrounded by a mess of trampled dough and scattered flour. “I’m here. I’ve got you.” Mario repeated softly, “You’re okay. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

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That night, they had ice cream for dinner. Mario stood in the living room in front of the coffee-table-turned-dessert-bar, and split a tub of butterscotch-caramel between two dishes, topping them with mounds of whipped cream, sprinkles, and cherries. Luigi sat on the nearby couch, wrapped in a quilt, watching his brother divvy out the icecream from a carton that still had the smudged remnants of “Mario’s! Do not touch!” written on the side in sharpie, hastily scratched out at the last minute.

“You want pecans too?” Mario asked, already popping open the tin. Luigi nodded, tightening the blanket a little further around his shoulders. His hands still shivered as he took the bowl from his brother. He was quiet for a moment, taking a few bites of the ice cream, fighting down another wave of tears that tried to bubble to the surface even now that the worst of the attack had left him. He was miserable. Exhausted. Defeated. “I feel so stupid.”

“You shouldn’t.” Mario sat on the couch, shoulder-to-shoulder against his brother while holding his sundae in his lap. “This is normal, I think. I mean... you went through a lot.”

“You didn’t fall apart like this.” Luigi whined, “You went through a lot too.” “What I went through is different.” Mario retorted, stirring his sundae into a brown, chocolatey slurry with his spoon, “I wasn’t alone like you were. Even from the first moment I landed in The Mushroom Kingdom I had Toad watching my back. You didn’t have anyone.”

Luigi didn’t say anything, he just looked at his older brother. Mario was right, but he didn’t like how guilty he looked while saying it. It wasn’t his fault that they got ripped in separate directions, it wasn’t his fault they ended up where they ended up. He did everything he could. He did amazing, all considering.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Mario asked, breaking the silence between them. “You know… what happened to you while we were apart?”

Luigi took a bite of his ice cream to buy himself time to consider his response. The answer was no, of course, even though Luigi knew talking about it would be good for him. He dreaded the thought of putting his experience into words. Even in the daylight hours, when all was well and the world was as it should be, merely thinking about The Dark Lands made his chest hurt and his hair stand on end. “Can I talk about it tomorrow?” “You can talk about it whenever you like,” Mario assured. He reached his free hand over to Luigi’s shoulder and tugged him into a playful side hug. “You’ve been here for me Lu, but don’t forget I’m here for you too! and I’m gonna keep being here, every step of the way. That’s a promise.”

Luigi smiled. Tears welled up in his eyes, far from the fearful tears that had plagued him moments before. “Mario…” Luigi set his ice cream down on the coffee table in front of him, rubbed his tears away on the palm of his hand, and plucked his little-big brother up into a bear hug. Mario barely had enough time to put his own ice cream down safely before being yanked into the embrace. “…We’re a mess.” Luigi chuckled, sounding happy at last. The shivering was almost gone, his breathing was steady, and his heartbeat was almost normal. Mario noted each of these things while he was pressed against his brother, and couldn’t help but smile as well. He’d be okay. Whether Luigi knew it or not, he was strong as either of them. It would take a bit of time, but they were going to be okay.

“Yeah.” Mario laughed, resting his chin against his brother’s shoulder, “we sure are.”

#mario movie #mario movie spoilers #mario #luigi #domestic luigi is my weakness #and so is hugging #trigger warning for panic attacks #and ptsd #Just two boys loving and supporting each other through their trauma #mario brothers #super mario brothers #my writing #fanfic

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