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letsperaltiago · 2 years

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we’ll sweet out the ashes in the morning | chapter 11 |

Even in the middle of New York's freezing month of February, a scandalous familiar fire is ignited within Jake and Amy when they run into each other after years apart. Luckily there's nothing wrong with being caught up in a fire that has to die out soon, right?

Read the new chapter here or on AO3

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Friend.noun. a person with whom one has a bond of mutual affection, typically one exclusive of sexual or family relations.

Alas then, at least according to the very reliable-looking dictionary he’d looked up online, Amy Santiago was his person with whom he had a bond of mutual affection, very much one exclusive of sexual or family relations.

It was clear as day and very much written in stone, to an extent where it almost felt like a pact between the two, and yet Jake had spent most of the late summer struggling with settling down in this new role. Actually, when he thought about it, which he did a lot , the role wasn’t actually new but rather like being demoted to beat cop. He’d done it before and it was cool… but, now that he’d tried it, definitely not as cool as being a detective.

Friends. They’d been friends before. It was the foundation of their entire relationship and it had been great, one of his most treasured ones, though now that he’d tasted what came after friends… going back didn’t feel like the natural, evident outcome he’d wished for.

Contrary to him, or at least that’s how he saw it, Amy seemed very happy with everything. Well, it also did happen to be, at least to some extent, “on her terms” (she’d been the one to propose the friendship after all). So maybe he just needed to be more open-minded and come to terms with everything himself. In the end, being her friend shouldn’t be seen as a punishment; perhaps rather the most logical way for them to be in each other’s lives still.

And so he tried: he remained positive because a friend-Amy was better than no Amy at all, and by the time October’s autumn leaves hit the ground, he’d gotten more or less accustomed to the blooming friendship whose seed they’d planted that day on Charles’ couch.

He’d respect her boundaries nonetheless but now that she was with Teddy, she was that much more off-limits and he had no reason to overthink the things she said or did. Dual-ended as it seemed, the fact that Amy was dating someone else actually helped. In some weird and twisted way. If a spiraling train of thought snuck up on him, he’d practiced the art of putting it to bed, and ‘what ifs…’ and ‘maybe ifs…’ became rarer and rarer these days. Of course, it hadn’t been all smooth sailing right away, but after grabbing beers at Shaw’s with their mutual friends (the squad pretended to know nothing of their hookup and slipup), it seemed easier to sink back into their preceding friendship: Santiago and Peralta made reappearances and the familiarity of the dynamic helped a lot. It was suddenly easy to see why they were and had to remain friends.

The first ‘friendly hangout’ definitely relied on the presence of their friends sparking and pacing conversations right and left, across the booth table. One beer took the other and it took no more than the first for Jake and Amy to reconcile with their old liaison and way of being. Not wanting to engage in “further and unnecessary inebriation”, Holt left the gathering first, soon followed by Terry who had daddy duties waiting for him at home. This left the remaining quartet, Rosa, Charles, Jake, and Amy, to their own demise. Everything seemed like old times like nothing had ever changed, and here Jake dared to admit to himself that maybe , just maybe, everything could someday feel normal again. When he sat there across from Amy, laughing about cock-and-bull stories from the 99, it was as if he could fight the flashing memories.

Running into Amy during an icy cold New York-winter day and immediately feeling warmed by her presence. Talking, laughing, drinking beer, and taking shots as if they’d never been apart. Kissing Amy on top of the pool table. Showing up at her doorstep in the middle of the night, confessing his feelings as if his life had depended on it. Touching her naked skin and seeing every inch of her unravel before her.

Now suddenly, once again, he could take a step back and appreciate her presence for what it was. He loved having her around, no matter what label and social rules defined them.

“Oh my goodness, please let’s not talk about that…” Jake groaned, wincing at Amy’s mentioning of that time they worked their first case together, summer of 2009, and he’d foolishly underestimated the fierceness of his new partner.

“Yes, yes, I wanna talk about it!” Amy insisted, laughing, knowing he’d been, and still was to this day, very embarrassed about his own behavior. Rosa and Charles both sat in silence, smiling smugly. Rosa because she loved seeing Jake embarrassed; Charles because his dream couple seemed to be powering through their turbulent history.

“On our first stakeout together, Jake tried to book this really creepy druglord, Antonio Fenado, who’d put in circulation pounds of cocaine and harassed multiple women. Being that I was brand new at the 99, trying to be either gallant or cocky - to this day I still don’t know-”

“Gallant,” Jake chimed in an attempt to save face but from the glint in Amy’s eyes, he could tell she would spare no detail, and, at that moment, he felt a familiar rush prickling through his entire body. The prickling and tingling only attention from Amy could provoke. There was something about her teasing and taunting him, even if innocently, that could make his heart flutter and skin tingle like a school boy with a crush.

“Hmmm, yeah, no, the 2009-version of you was definitely being cocky and kind of a jerk to the new girl. You told me that it was safer for me to wait in the car and keep an eye out for shady activity while you confronted Fenado.”

“Damn, Jake, you really are a sexist idiot,” Rosa, obviously pleased with Jake’s embarrassment, joined the ongoing public humiliation.

“I am not!”

“Sounds like what a guilty person would say,” Rosa had found the right button to push and she loved it.

“I was trying to be considerate ,” the young man fumbled, desperately, as yes, his younger self definitely had lacked self-knowledge and reflections beyond the borders of his own little bubble of an action movie-universe. The more he thought about it and the older he got, it was easy to see. “... But I guess I was an idiot. I actually was being a sexist jerk and I’m sorry about that.” He smiled sheepishly.

“You were,” Amy smiled back, confident and content with his confession, finally her turn to badger her teaser of a friend. “But you’ve gotten better.”

To emphasize her point, without even thinking twice, she reached across the sticky booth table where his lower arm was resting and patted it. With the flinch of an eye, the skip of a heartbeat, Jake remembered what he’d spent the last couple of months repressing and forgetting. He plunged right back into the pool of memories, as if they’d never actually left his consciousness, and remembered just why being friends with Amy Santiago was ruining him even though he was pretending that it wasn’t.

On the outside, neither Rosa, Charles nor Amy could tell; on the inside, Jake’s heart was sucked into the deep and dark misery of the loveless underworld of his existence. There was so much vulnerability in realizing, feeling, just how easily, with the touch of her hand, she could drag him back in time. Back to a time, though short, when he reached the happiest point of his life in her arms. Now, like a hungry dog for a bone, he was back to yearning and pining.

In the meantime, Amy had retreated her hand because, of course, it meant nothing to her, and Jake was left feeling the cool and empty area where her cold skin had just rested on his. She’d always been cold - literally. Either he was going crazy or her hands were softer than normal. He had totally faded out of the ongoing conversation and by the time he zoned back in, his friends were laughing about something else. He played it off with a chuckle, only sounding half as awkward as he was feeling.

Geez, he really had to snap out of it. At least try to. The alternative would be making Amy feel weird and possibly compromising their relationship - again.

A few hours and a couple of beers later, even though he’d initially wanted to flee when Rosa did, Jake was the last person to stay in Amy’s company. It wasn’t that he wanted to flee from Amy; it was more of a ‘I want to flee from these emotions that Amy is stirring within me’-type of situation. Yet, he couldn’t get himself to vacate the booth, even when Rosa eyed him warningly as she put on her leather jacket and announced her exit.

“I’m out. You staying?”

Amy looked at her beer, still half full, then back at her raven-haired friend.

“Oh, uhm, I’m gonna stay and finish my beer.”

“Jake?” In a discreet attempt to, hopefully, prompt her friend to make the right decision and leave with her, Rosa cocked her left eyebrow. Their eyes met but Jake’s gaze was quick to escape, switching to Amy, then again back to Rosa, as if he were watching a tennis game and struggling to pick a player to root for.

“I- eh.”

He should leave, he thought. He really should. It was far from his business to sip on beers with Amy Santiago on a random work night - especially when Rosa was basically throwing an earnest way out at him. However, would he even be Jake Peralta if he didn’t constantly have his foot in his mouth and head in the clouds? Well, no, so with his eyes flicked back to Amy, whose cheeks were now tinted with pink self-consciousness, he made up his mind. The amount of rational thought that was put into his decision was embarrassingly small but alas his heart spoke faster than his head these days.

“I’ll stick around with Amy - make sure she doesn’t embarrass herself or something Santiago-like.” He tried to save it with a joke, but only got Rosa’s eye roll in return.

“Whatever.” Rosa zipped her coat. “Be careful.”

It was supposed to sound like a general comment but Jake couldn’t ignore the warning gaze his friend sent his way as she turned to walk away from them. No doubt he got the memo. And so that was how they ended up alone. Together. Alone together. In a silence that weighed just a bit too heavily.

The air around them was charged with confusing emotions, and suddenly, Jake wondered if he should make a run for the door. Not because he didn’t want to hang out with her - he really, genuinely enjoyed her company - but because, perhaps, he couldn’t handle a tête-à-tête with her just yet. Shit, he really wasn’t over her, was he?

Luckily, he wasn’t left alone with that thought for too long. The sound of Amy clearing her throat came off as louder than anything he’d ever heard before, and if his attention hadn’t already been directed at her then now it for sure was purely and utterly undivided.

“Thanks for staying.”

Amy broke the silence first, beating him to it, and taking into consideration Rosa’s departure’s toll on the ambiance, she suddenly seemed very unaffected and content with his stubborn decision to stay and friendly presence. Her eyes were lightly tired-looking, probably from the straining combination of an eight-hour shift and three beers-combo, but still, she looked at him with warmth and sympathetic air that reminded him of exactly why he’d always fight to keep her in his life; whether that be as friends, enemies or lovers. Whatever title worked the best for them, he could deal with.

“Of course,” fell from his lips with ease, whereas on the inside, he could feel the trembling caused by his heart and brain, head to head, in a fight about the woman sitting next to him. “No need to thank me.”

“I know…” she smiled weakly, fiddling with the red etiquette on her beer bottle that was half soaked from the condensation on the bottle.

It wasn’t awkward, per se, however, there was definitely something mismatched. Something seemed off, even though they’d been completely fine and hitting it off all night so far. It was hinting towards the fact that barricades went up as soon the last third party and buffer between them had left the group. Now that he was looking at her again, he started to realize that maybe the reason why he felt a certain distance between them was that he wasn’t being honest with her.

Could they be friends, the true and genuine kind they used to be back in the days if he didn’t tell her how he truly felt? Or, if he were to unveil his internal battle between his heart and mind, was he then just being selfish? Their relationship had already gone through so much… could it bear another challenge?

“Jake?”

Guess he never got the time to find an answer to his own question. Snapping out of his storm of thoughts, he was confronted by a confused-looking Amy.

He smiled, tilting his beer to clink with hers. “That’s what friends are for.”

To his own surprise, he said the f-word without flinching, and, maybe someday, he could fully commit to their title and not just the idea. For now, he could have feelings for her and still be her friend, right? At least her smile had him wishing for success. Whatever would keep that sunshine-like smile in his life.

“You’re right.” She nodded before prompting them to share a sip in silence, and like the cold, golden liquid slid down their throats, the flux of worries and tension between them slid away and off to a forgotten - or at least repressed - part of their narrative.

“As long as we don’t have to talk. Just drink,” he joked.

Amy recognized a very specific teasing glint in his eyes, one she’d only ever seen in his eyes, and it took her back. She could never put an exact number on the tally of times he’d hit her with lame jokes and comments, paired with those same mischievous eyes, to which she always reacted with a shake of the head and roll of the eyes. This time was no exception.

“Oh, yeah, totally. No way I’m talking to you. We’re drinking in silence. I’m just letting you stick around, so I don’t have to ride the bus alone.”

Two could play that game.

“You’ve been spending way too much time with Rosa. Also, no way I was going to let you ride the bus alone, like ever.”

She had meant it as a joke, at least she thought so, but the tingling in her toes and fluttering of her heart upon his caring comment seemed to call her bluff. No. It couldn’t be. She was with Teddy and very content with that. There was no way what she was feeling was more than harmless platonic feelings lost in a sea of a complicated history. It was surely normal that her body felt confused at times. Especially after a couple of drinks and a long day at work.

“I’m a grown woman, Jake. And a cop. I can take the bus by myself.” She grinned, shaking her head in disbelief of his generosity.

“Brooklyn murderers don’t care about that.”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes once more.

“Don’t scoff at me, Santiago!” He acted offended, poking her in the side with his index finger. Her body immediately curved away from his advance, giggling in amusement and fear of what could potentially come next. If she remembered correctly, he knew just how ticklish she was. “I’m just trying to protect you from murderers!”

When the opportunity to give Jake Peralta a taste of his own jokester-medicine knocks Amy Santiago always opens the door.

“Oh, just like you protected me from Antonio Fenado back in 2009?”

As if she’d stolen his staple of a mischievous grin and applied it to her own face, Jake’s face instantly sinks into a cold deadpan and for just a second she actually panics - had she gone too far?

“Wow, Ames. Way to tell me that I’m still a sexist jerk,” he pouted, crossing his arms and it was clear as day that she had once again enrolled them in another playful skit. Of course, he couldn’t contain himself and had to get in on the play.

“I do what I can to keep you humble,” she grinned over the edge of her beer which she was about to take another sip of it, and, she could’ve sworn, Jake did a double take when she batted her eyelashes and placed her lips on the cold glass. Either that or she was being completely irrational, delusional, and, more importantly, inappropriate.

Ever since they came to the agreement of being friends, Jake had done nothing but respect her boundaries and wishes. Awkwardness, longing glances, and unfortunately honest signs of affection had entailed but day by day the cracks of their past seemed smaller, less meaningful in the bigger picture, and now months later they were finally in a good place. Honestly, she could still tell there was some longing on his part, however, his friendship was so genuine she couldn’t bring herself to blame him. Balance seemed mostly restored between the two. Perhaps, she thought to herself as cold beer glid down her throat, this was them in their truest form and whatever she felt… that was okay. This was how their friendship worked and it was… great .

“Watch your tongue. I’ve got a secret weapon, you know?”

“Oh yeah?” she scoffed.

“Yeah, really,” he smiled smugly before taking a sip of his beer, white foam coating his cupid's bow when he finally put it back down on the wooden surface.

Usually, she’d reach out a wipe it away from him but now that small action seemed a bit too loud and loaded for what was now a very platonic and innocent affinity between the two. Maybe she was just overthinking? There wasn’t anything wrong with simply reaching out, wiping it off… She could feel her fingers tingle and her arm fight her thoughts.

“Jake.”

“I’m not letting you off the hook that easy, Sant-”

“Shut up. You have foam on your lip,” she interrupted him but with an apologetic and warm smile still present on her face.

“Oh,” he didn’t know what he’d expected her to say or do. The abruptness definitely caught him off guard and something about this blunt, no-bullshit Amy intrigued him. Ever since they’d agreed to be just friends, tonight definitely felt like the first time they were back to their true selves and it filled him with a paradoxical mix of joy and gloom. Joy caused by the fact that they hadn’t lost themselves in the drama of everything; gloom caused by the fact that it hit him that they were indeed nothing more but friends and Amy was truly over him.

On the inside, he was fighting what felt like the fight of his life, and on the outside, he uttered an “Oh, thanks” as his thumb swept over his lips.

“No problem, Pineapples.”

“You…” he sighed, smiling and trying to keep the gloomy feeling at bay. He was trying to come up with something funny, Jake-like to say but failed, trailing off with a “..are something else.”

“Thanks,” she smiled proudly, not noticing his lack of ability to come up with a comeback, and downed the last few slurps of beer. “I’m just gonna head to the bathroom. Be right back.”

“Want another beer?” he asked as she walked away.

“Sure! Thanks,” she spun on her heels to look at him, and Jake could only fight the urge to fall all over again at the sight of her long, silky ponytail floating along. “Unless you’re tired and wanna go?”

Tired of hanging with you? Never, he thought to himself. “Me? Tired? Don’t you know me at all?”

“Idiot. See you at the bar.” She smiled and turned away once more.

So he took it upon himself to hit the bar and order them another round of cold beers to keep them company. Pushing himself out of their booth, Amy’s phone lying on the table caught his eye. She must’ve forgotten, he thought, a grabbed it to bring with him to the bar. The phone automatically lit up under his touch and across an adorable picture of - what Jake assumed was - three of Amy’s nieces (unless she secretly had kids) was a text from Teddy.

He hadn’t meant to see it and knew he had no business doing so. However, now that he was face to face with another man asking Amy Santiago when she would be home, followed by a kissy face-emoji, Jake really had to fight to ignore the gloominess inside of him growing stronger all while the lines between platonic and romantic love became increasingly blurred.

Fuck. He really tried to remember that he had her, right where he wanted her the most, and he fucked it up. It was his fault entirely that she was now with Teddy, someone who probably treated her just right, while he was bitter on the sideline. There was no way he could ever hold anything against her nor ask anything of her. No matter how much it killed him he just had to… get over her. As simple and as complicated as that.

While his wandering thoughts, a full-on battle between the brain and the heart, had his spirit scuttled and thrown around as by a tornado, he headed to the bar and ordered another round of beers. There was no way he was allowing his partner to see the true colors of his mood and if he was lucky the alcohol would help.

“You know what?” he got the bartender’s attention. “On top of that, I’ll have a shot of Kamikaze.”

“Just one?”

Amy’s phone buzzed on the counter next to him and the screen lit up with another notification from Teddy.

“Make that two.”

By the time Amy made it back to the bar, Jake was waiting with two beers on the bar and two shots in his stomach. Seeing her walk his way, her annoying, still and always perfect ponytail flailing behind her to the rhythm of her steps, Jake realized shots and beers weren’t going to solve his issues. He definitely felt lightly more buzzed… but more reasonable? Not at all.

“You tired, Peralta?”

She placed herself on the stool on his right.

“No way,” he chuckled, sliding her phone over to her. “Here. You forgot it when you went to the bathroom.”

“Oh, thanks!” she smiled, quickly checking it. Jake already knew what awaited her and was ready to die just a tiny bit more inside when she had to leave for Teddy’s place. “Teddy’s been texting-”

“Hi - excuse me?”

An unrecognizable voice interrupted them to which they reacted by both turning on their stool. Before them stood a woman, tall, big blue eyes and with wavy blonde hair that had her look like a Disney princess. Both Jake and Amy tried to place her but in vain.

“Hi?” Jake smiled awkwardly, trying to lighten the mood.

“I’m so sorry for interrupting! I’m Olivia. I’m here with my friends and I just…” the blonde halted and bit her lip, nervous as if she was about to admit to murdering someone. “We’re leaving but I couldn’t just go without telling you that I think you look super cute, and…”

Out of the corner of her eye, Amy could see smiling amicably at the nervous newcomer. A tiny part of her hated it. The rest of her loved that he was always so approachable and spontaneous around new people.

“I was just wondering if, like,” the blonde threw a glance and a smile in Amy’s direction before refocusing on Jale, “you two were together or if I could maybe… have your number?”

If they’d had time to look at each other both Jake and Amy would’ve seen that the other looked just as puzzled as they did themselves. Instead, all they could do was look at Olivia. She was beautiful, very much so, Amy thought to herself while picking her nails. No one knew how to react. Luckily, Olivia beat them both to it.

“Oh my gosh, you guys are together, right? I should’ve known from the way you guys talked and looked at each other! I’m so-”

“Hey, don’t worry!” Jake interrupted, sensing that the newcomer was panicking. “We’re… not, like, together.” Saying the words out loud seemed to physically hurt. Especially when just being told that the two of them seemed to look so in love and couple-y.

“No no, you’re totally fine.” Amy chuckled nervously, and as she spoke she could feel Jake turning his head to look at her. She looked back and what happened just then was in more than one way very much inexplicable; they shared a look that was neither sad nor happy. It was as if they were both trying to tell the other something but neither could figure out what.

“Oh, thank God!” Olivia took a deep breath of air before chuckling herself. “So, if you don’t mind me asking again… could I have your number or you have mine, and maybe we can grab a beer someday?”

Too frazzled to take notice, Olivia didn’t notice the exchange of glances between the pair before her.

Amy smiled shyly and Jake returned the favor. It was like an unspoken way of coming to terms with the way things were and had to be. They were not together. They were already together with or had to get together with new, other people. Not each other. Pain flashed through Jake’s entire body and he prayed it didn’t translate to his smile. In case it did, he looked away and back at Olivia.

“Sure.” He took out his phone, failing to notice how Amy followed his every move very closely. “What’s your number, Olivia?”

#lmao almost half a year after posting the previous chapter 🤡#anywayssss #peraltiago #jake x amy #jake and amy #fanfic #au #fanfiction #peralta #santiago #b99 #brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn 99

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peabodyandsitcoms · 2 years

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A fic of Jake just being a lush dad. Story line and later dialogue takes heavy inspo from Ben Platts song 'Run Away' cos its the most stunning thing. Anywayys this is just a lit of angst and love enjoy :))

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Jake was woken by sniffled cries from his son and daughter's room. Amy was close to getting home after a late evening shift, and Jake had had plans to wait up for her, but had drifted off to something or other on his phone. He sat up with a start- Mac and Carmen, now four and two, cried now not for diaper changes or feeds, but from ouchies, overwhelming places, scary dreams.

Jake tiptoed towards their room, careful not to wake a barely sleeping baby Raya next to his and Amy's bed. He opened their door slowly and with tentative words of "hey my gorgeous kiddos" to warn them gently of his precence, followed quietly with, "Daddy's here, its okay" as he walked into the bedroom.

He was met with the sight of his son and daughter with arms around eachother, sat on Mac's bed, teeny tears present on both of their cheeks. Heart immediately in pieces, he scooped up both kiddos in his arms and carried them, with their heads on his chest, into the lounge in attempt to keep Raya from a crying fit that Jake- sadly not equiped with boobs- knew would be almost impossible to calm.

He sat the three if them down on their couch, carefully unloading them onto it and then twisting to crouch on the floor to be opposite them.

"Hey, hey I'm here now, you're okay honey" he reassured, wiping newly falling tears off of his daughter's face and then each hand falling to stroke one of each of the children's knees reassuringly.

"What's going on here hmm? Whats up?" he asked softly.

There was a pause as his children timidly looked at eachother, before Mac spoke quietly and with a croaking voice "Carmen had a dream... and she said you and Mommy were gone and you could never come back. I thought it was real, I- I thought you guys might have had to run away or something and we were gonna be all be ourselves with Raya and-"

Jake could tell by his fast talking he was getting more anxious just at the thought of it all: "Buddy, buddy take a breath. Its okay, I'm right here"

"Mamas not" Carmen sniffed, "She's a superhero, she might go away, we don't know. You said that before Daddy"

Jake took a breath- these conversations were always so hard to have, how do you explain to these tiny people that there is always a possibility that their mommy might not come home.

"You're right sweetie, like we've said, Mama's job is scary sometimes, I remember. But the most important thing is-" he began punctuating his words word with little jabs to their bellies, making them giggle "Mommy- loves- every - weeny- little- bit- of each of you more than anything in the entire world. And she is always going to everything she can to come home to us"

The children settled "Okay Daddy", both offering Jake smiles of acceptance, laced with fear that he knew was pretty much perminant.

"And hey look. I may not be as clever as Mommy and I might not be a superhero like Mommy. But, I promise both of you-" he held out both his pinkys for them to cling onto "I'm never going anywhere, okay? Ever. You two and Raya, you're stuck with me. I am always, always, always going to be there for you."

Mac and Carmen nodded and squeezed his pinkies tighter, and Jake, after placing a kiss on each kid's head first, leaned in to press all three of their foreheads together in a little triangle and said just above a whisper," That is until me and Mommy are all gross and old and then you three look after us, deal?"

The toddlers giggled, "Deal."

"Okay then lads and lassies, let's head back to you're quarters then shall we?" he spoke with a strong Irish accent and he scooped both kids back up, them wriggling and giggling as he did so.

Jake made his way back to their room, both kids dramatically bringing their finger up to their lips as they passed Raya's cot.

He lay each of them back in their own beds, kissing each of them on the nose as he did and then leaning at the door "I love you guys so, so much. Don't ever forget that" he tamed the lump in his throat.

"Love you too Daddy" they chanted back quietly, then turning over and beginning to doze off.

He blew them a kiss, despite him being in neither of their sights anymore, and then turned away to get back into bed, a singular tear of overwhelming love for his babies falling down his cheek.

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theficlistpodcast · 1 year

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HAPPY HALLOWEEN EVERYONE!!!! 🎃👻🦇

We hope you all have a spooktacular holiday!! Enjoy our past Halloween episodes with some hot cider and delicious candy!

#the fic list #fic list fam #halloween #apocalypse au #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #queliot #the magicians #reaper76 #overwatch #blaine #glee #peraltiago #brooklyn 99 #fanfiction podcast #podcast #fandom podcast #another queue bites the dust

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fea-the-grinch · 1 year

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I have/used to have a few straigth ships, and I want to make a list of them:

~~~~ Straigth ships that impacted me the most:

- Tsunade x Jiraya (Jiratsu): my first ship ever. As they say, you never forget your first ;) no, really, I loved them for 5 years, but now, I just cannot read fanfiction about them anymore. However, they still hold a special place in my memory. I used to create so many stories about them, in my head, everywhere I went... I didn't know the term at the time, but I had so many AUs with them. It was truly one of the best thing in my life back then. One of the happiest I would say. I used my imagination to create diverse scenario, just for myself, and it was so fun. They shaped my taste in ships, in trope and everything. I grew up with them.

- Abby Griffin x Marcus Kane (Kabby): I loved them so much. The Angst. The Affection. The Warmth. The Trust. Yeah, I used to really like them. I never finished the series though, so I didn't see the part where everyone and everything turn crazy. In my version, they're just in love and happy. You best believe that I will never watch the rest of the 100. It's one of the only ships that I have where I often prefered the AUs to the fanfictions that happened in the real world of the 100.

- Nymphadora Tonks x Remus Lupin (Remadora): They were like my second big ship after Jiratsuna. I didn't realize at the time that I was so into ships that always ended up with one of the two people dying. I've always loved angst, and I didn't even know the word at the time x) Anyway, coming back to them: what I really like at the time was the angst and the fact that they were canon. The latter is a very rare occurence in my ships, and I knew it even at that time, so I truly enjoyed it.

Skip x Crystal: They're from the anime Carole and Tuesday. I love, love, love, love them so much. In this ship, there are angst, love, nostalgia, affection, caring, history, potential for more, talent, and so much more. They're both incredible people, and I would want nothing more than a 40 minutes episode, or a animated movie, about those two, their story together and then their stories when they fell apart and after. And then, maybe at the end, a little scene between the two of them, after this concert at the sort of opera, once Skip gets out of jail. They would talk about their feelings, their desires and their future. Whether they want to spend it together or not. Whether they want to give another chance to their love or not. Crystal and Skip are both so down to earth, they wouldn't let any drama happens between them now (don't know how it was before, when they were younger). They lived, and they learned. Now, I believe they're ready for each other.

~~~~ Random straigth ships that I like/liked:

Jake Peralta x Amy Santiago (Peraltiago): I've never read a fanfic that was only about them, but they're a couple goal. They're so good and adorable together.

Cisco Ramon x Caitlin Snow (Killervibe): I don't really ship them anymore but damn, I always had something for 'best friends who become so much more' ;^; For this type of ship, I'm always like "But if there had been a click… There would have been something amazing, sweet and beautiful between them". At the time, maybe two years ago, I think I read pretty much every fic there was about them.

Nia Nal x Brainy (Brainia): Yeah, you can probably tell that I watched DC superheroes shows. Nia and Brainy are super cute, at least in season 4 and 5, and I will ignore anyone who disagrees. I didn't catch up with the end of Supergirl, but I hope everything went well for them.

I think that's about it. I had a few others, but I realize that I didn't like them as much as I love /loved the ones here.

Creating this list makes me want to do the same for my sapphic ships...

#tsunade x jiraya #jiratsu #jiratsuna #kane x abby #kabby #remus x nymphadora #remus lupin x nymphadora tonks #remadora #skip x crystal #jake x amy #Jake Peralta x Amy Santiago #peraltiago #cisco x caitlin #killervibe #nia x brainy #brainia

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nelsonandspringforever · 1 year

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I was tagged by @skinnyscottishbloke!

3 ships: Nick and Charlie (Heartstopper) (duh), Peraltiago (Brooklyn 99), Daiken (Digimon)

First ever ship: honestly? probably Lizzie and Gordo from Lizzie Mcguire

Last song: Paris by The Chainsmokers (your fault kate)

Last movie: Glass Onion

Currently reading: too much fanfiction lol but I’m going to start Boyfriend Material in the next week or so

Currently watching: do I even have to say?

Currently consuming: I had some peanut m&ms at the end of my shift an hour ago

Currently craving: sleep lol

I tag @firstmatesheeran, @xoxoemynn, @impastablestuff, @taraj0nes

#this was fun #tag games

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pandorasprongs · 11 months

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the peraltiago bet and s1e13 has had unfathomable reprocussions to the fanfiction community (wink wink)

#b99 #brooklyn 99 #peraltiago #am i going to write a jamie tartt fanfic based on this? maybe #give me 2-3 weeks to write it tho

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impossiblyizzy · 1 year

Note

1, 22, 49 back at you! Plus a bonus: 18

Thanks Fee!

1) How old were you when you first starting writing fanfiction?

About 4. I used to make up little stories when I was a kid and my mum transcribed a few of them - some of them are about OCs but characters also include Thomas the Tank Engine and the cast of the Rainbow Magic books. Also myself lol. I think I steered towards origional characters for a lot of my childhood, but my fanfiction.net account is stilll up with my Diana Wynne Jones fanfics from when I was about 12!

18) Do you have any abandoned WIPs? What made you abandon them?

I have a folder in my google drive called Story Graveyard which currently contains about 50 abandoned fanfics - although some of them are a decade old at this point. Highlights include a Hamlet modern au, three different attempts at an ace!Jake fic, and a Peraltiago fake dating story. I used to feel bad about that when I was younger because I thought I just couldn't stick with anything, but now I know that it's just part of my process. I have a lot of ideas and not all of them can end up as finished fics!

22) Do you have a story that you look back on and cringe when you reread it?

Oh, all of them. Except my self-insert Thomas the Tank Engine story, that slaps.

49) Can you remember the first fic you read? What was it about?

I'm pretty sure my first experience of consuming fanfic was stumbling across some videos on youtube when I was about 8 that were like... videos of Harry Potter fanfic. The text would come up one line at a time and it would use a screenshot from the movies for whichever character was speaking. It was pretty weird!

ask me fanfic questions :)

#I had a lot of fun answering these!!#izzy says words

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hereforb99 · 2 years

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Jake and Amy having a nice night on the couch

@peraltiago-headcanons thanks a lot for this prompt.

@janujaja thank you for proofreading, you're the best! 💕

I never thought I would write a fic but I did and I reallly enjoyed writing it!

This is my fanfic writing debut and I hope y'all like it.

Also on AO3.

Amy has had a long couple of days. The murder of a family of four in Pearl Street had taken a physical and emotional toll on her. But today, she finally cracked the case and is looking forward to spending quality time with her new boyfriend, Jake and most importantly, to passing out on the bed. It’s been a week since they had a date night and Amy has been feeling guilty for blowing him off due to work. But Jake has been ever so understanding and kind and kept reminding her that work should be her priority.

Jake had a day off today and when he received Amy’s text saying that she had finally solved the case and was on the way to his apartment to spend the night, he decided that he wanted to make it extra special. Since his cooking skills were still subpar, he ordered chicken pot pie from Amy’s favourite restaurant and a cake with ‘Congrats, babe’ written on it. The cake was inclusive of the Jake Peralta boyfriend experience.

Jake’s heart jumped with joy when the doorbell rang. He opened the door and there was that infectious smile he had been missing for a week.

“Heyy,” whispered Amy and before she could say another word, Jake held her in a warm embrace and kissed her tenderly.

“I really missed you,” he said, breaking the kiss.

“I missed you too.”

They stood at the doorstep for a while grinning at each other before Amy finally demanded to let her in. Jake quickly opened his mouth to say title of your sex tape but decided against it when Amy gave him the look.

“So, what’s special tonight?” she asked, looking at the candlelight set on the dining table.

“Oh, nothing much, just cooked you chicken pot pie!”

When Amy stared at him in disbelief, he threw his hands up in defeat and said, “Fine, Detective Santiago, I bought it from your favourite restaurant, Le Bernardin.”

“Aww,” she said, cupping his face and he gave her the heart eyes that always make her weak at the knees.

After dinner, they sat down to watch Die Hard for the umpteenth time. By now, Amy didn’t mind watching Die Hard anymore, if it meant she could snuggle up on the couch with Jake.

Halfway through the film, Jake startled a half-asleep and snuggled up Amy when he suddenly got up from the couch.

“I’m so sorry for waking you up, Ames, but I just remembered something.”

“What is it?” Amy asked annoyedly because she couldn’t bear to miss his warm body even for a minute.

Jake emerged from the kitchen after a few seconds with the cake in his hand and placed it on the teapoy in front of the couch.

“I almost forgot to give you the cake I bought to celebrate your victory in cracking the case. Emphasis on almost.” Little does he know now that years later, he would almost forget to tell Amy the sex of their child too.

Amy’s eyes filled up with tears at this sweet gesture from her boyfriend, something that she always secretly wished somebody would do for her.

“I love you so much, Jake,” that’s all she could say and that’s all that matters.

Looking at her, all teary-eyed made Jake want to cry too. “I love you so much too, Ames.” Jake replied as they went in for a passionate kiss.

Their kiss was broken by the loud and annoying sound of John McClane jumping from the roof of Nakatomi Plaza.

“Let’s continue this in bed,” she said, pulling his hand and walking him towards their bedroom.

“Coming, Holly Gennaro!” he followed excitedly.

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letsperaltiago · 2 years

Text

we'll sweep out the ashes in the morning |chapter 12|

Read the new chapter here or on AO3

That night, Jake ended up keeping two promises.

Firstly, his promise to Amy. They rode the bus home together, about 20 minutes after Jake had secured himself the beautiful and quirky blonde’s number. It wasn’t that the other woman had killed the mood, per se. There was no such ulterior mood to kil when it came to the two old partners, after all… Still, Amy thought to herself as she lay in bed that night, something undefined shifted the second the stranger walked up to them and declared her intentions Suddenly, their conversation seemed weighed down and cramped. Now all she could think of was… what. What had so suddenly weighed their otherwise fantastic evening together down?

That night, Jake ended up keeping two promises.

Secondly, his promise to Olivia. Olivia. Just the name had Amy's stomach churning. Jake had promised Olivia to text her, and, well… he did. They were riding the bus towards her place, only a few stops away, and the conversation between the two had dwindled down to sitting in a… somewhat comfortable silence. They’d talked a bit about what the rest of the week was holding for them, which of course, was mostly work. So then they’d talked about work and on this wise, the conversation slowly and painfully died out…Who was she trying to kid? It wasn’t a somewhat comfortable silence; it was a civic silence at best. If there had been anyone else on the empty night bus, they surely would’ve thought the two were strangers or on a really awful first date.

Ding! It wasn’t her phone. She had checked. On his side of the site, Jake had grabbed his phone. Even though it in no way had seemed like he was trying to be obstructive about it, Amy experienced a striking sinking feeling when she noticed that he was typing out a message designated to Olivia. Right then and there, Amy had wanted to get off at the next stop, even if it meant she’d have to walk 20 minutes home, just to get away from the situation. Of course, she didn’t. Instead, she remained in her seat next to him, turning her head in the opposing direction to look out at the dark streets of Brooklyn. As if to give him privacy to carry out his illicit affairs.

Affairs that actually weren’t illicit in any way, shape, or form. It dawned upon her as the clock on her nightstand flashed 2:32 AM. Way too late considering she had work to get up to in less than 4 hours. Nothing Jake did that night was illicit. He had every right in the world to move on… just like she herself had done with Teddy.

Her mind drifted to the memory of their bus ride. By the time they’d almost finally reached the stop closest to her apartment, Jake had locked and put away his phone. She had no idea what he’d texted Olivia and, honestly, she didn’t want to know.

The remaining of the trip was traveled in silence, each of them occupying themselves with glancing around and everywhere else but at the other person. Regardless, even when looking in the opposite direction of her friend and out the window, her reason and senses must’ve carried off with her. In the dark scenery outside the bus window, the flashing light from bypassing lampposts triggered reminiscent snapshots.

Cold February air. Trotting down an icy Brooklyn sidewalk with nothing but the destination (work, as always) in mind. Collision point. Her phone and to go-coffee flying in each their own direction.

“Oh my goodness, I am so so sorry, sir! I was reading an email and wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

She had kneeled to pick up her dropped items from the sidewalk and then… there he was. Right back in her life as if he’d never left.

“Wow, Santiago. Who would’ve thought I’d ever experience you on your knees and calling me sir?”

The comment took her by surprise. In more than one way. One: After years of little to no contact, Jake Peralta was right there in front of her. Two: She just trampled him down, basically, and he was just being very nice and funny about it. Three: That comment of his was super sexual, right? There was no time to think clearly or straight.

“Here,” he’d kneeled down to her level and started to pick up things she hadn’t even realized she’d dropped. “Let me help you out.”

The bus jerked, probably hitting one of the many bumps and holes on the run-down road, both literally and metaphorically jostling Amy out of her nostalgic daydreaming. Why was it that she kept on being dragged back to the past these days? Why couldn’t her head simply live in the moment, here and now, and let go of what had been and could’ve been? How come that when she’s finally moved on, has gotten her head on straight, and Jake apparently has too, memories and feelings, ones she thought were distanced, claw their way back into her reality? Honestly, it made her want to scream in frustration, so much she felt her fingers dig into the God knows how dirty-bus seat as a vision of two entangled, grinding figures appeared before her.

The female figure was her, sandwiched between the brick wall of a cold, wet alley and a male figure.

Jake.The male figure.

She could feel frigid rain drizzling from the sky above them. It had caused his messy curls to fall flat against his forehead and forming a cute mop in the area between his eyebrows and the top of the bridge of his nose. Somehow, it made him look even more attractive than before.

Their battling had been at it for what seemed like forever. Their tired yet starving lips hitched at the sensation of an icy driblet of winter rain sliding down her cold, red cheek. Desperately, as if her life depended on it, her hands grasped at the collar of his open coat. In the heat of the moment, when rushing out of the bar, they’d just barely had the time to throw their respective coats on. Her coat was wide open, inviting him to bury his hands under her shirt in the hunt for two things: heat and more of her. Needless to say that he found both when he felt her body shudder beneath his cold hands.

“Sorry,” he had mumbled, drowsy yet still so vigilant and attentive, even after all the drinking, resulting in the slowing pace of his kisses, gently redirecting them to somewhere else but her aching lips.

She could feel herself grow more eager with every second slipping by under his spell. The heat between her legs reflecting exactly this, and a part of her wanted him to take her whole and fully. Right then and there in an alley on an icy night, because, in the back of her mind, the fear of never having another moment like this with him ever again was lurking and threatening her sanity.

“It’s o-okay,” she recalled her voice had trembled, feeling as if she was being touched for the very first time. Touched in a way that mattered more than anything else in her perception; touched in a way and with a power that even a thousand storms couldn’t compete with. How come she’d never felt like this before? How come nothing else before the second he kissed her felt important?

“You’re-“ Jake murmured deeply against her cheek and neck whilst his cold fingers picked at the soft, warm skin of her stomach, only removing them to fiddle with the bottom button of her shirt, “-amazing.”

He’d managed to pop open the tiny, tricky button, the pattern repeating itself upwards until he was able to pull the now two fragments of burgundy fabric apart to reveal the ultimate price. She remembered feeling vulnerable but also very much safe… As in there was no one else's presence her vulnerability could possibly feel safe in. Not that she’d had this outcome in mind when she’d put it on earlier, but now, with her shirt open and her torso bare before him… she was glad that she chose to wear that elegant black silk bra instead of one of her many old, worn t-shirt bras that she used for work. He probably wouldn’t have minded either way but still.

Feeling her almost bare chest heave for air in an almost violent, exasperated constant up-and-down pattern was something she would never forget. The cold air burned and cut through her lungs like a thousand tiny knives. His lips were back on her’s and she felt like she couldn’t breathe but scarily enough… nothing else had ever felt this good. He did that to her; Jacob Peralta could make her body react like this. Feeling sizzling and on fire in 25 degrees’ winter rain.

“Amy.”

He called out her name. But not with that breathy, mumbling voice from that night in the alley. Shit.

“Amy.”

She’d drifted off again, her imagination and memories of the past getting away with her. Now she was back on the bus; back with Jake on her right side instead of pushed against a brick wall with his body pressed against hers. She snapped her head in his direction and was met by a pair of confused but nonetheless, as always, soft and wondering brown eyes that had her want to dive back into another reminiscing trance-session. Just to feel him, touch him, even if only in her daydreams and deepest imagination.

“Sorry! Must’ve drifted off…”

“It’s cool,” he smiled, not questioning further why and what she’d drifted off about. “We’ll be arriving at your stop in a minute. My offer still stands?”

Before they’d boarded the bus, he’d offered to walk her all the way home. Both because she didn’t want him to go through the hassle, and because she secretly felt like she needed to get as far away from him as possible, she’d politely declined his gallant offer.

“Oh-” she thought the awkward ride by her side had been enough to make him realize just why he shouldn’t be walking her home. It warmed her heart that he cared enough to propose it again. That was Jake in a nutshell. “No, you’re fine. Just the fact that you’ve taken a completely different bus, in the opposite direction from your place, just to get me home safe is more than enough. Thank you. I’ll be fine for the last bit.”

God, she hoped her smile looked warmer than it felt. Genuinely, she did appreciate his offer, and she so badly tried to express the gratefulness and offer him an expression that reflected this but her entire body felt… off. It was as if, all at once, she wanted to stay in his company but also couldn’t be with him for another second. She had to get away as quickly as possible or… She didn’t know exactly what. But she had to go.

“Sure?” His eyes were saturated with a shade of attentiveness and a depth that all at once resembled a deep, endless, and chaotic ocean but at the very same time also the safety of a home. A home she wanted to revisit; an ocean she needed to save herself from.

“Y-yeah, don’t worry about me.” She stood up from her seat, supporting herself on the handle hanging from the ceiling.

“I always worry about you, Ames. Or… maybe not worry but like I… care. Like friends do, you know?” He smiled shyly, sheepishly, which Jake Peralta, king of living wildest and most confident life, rarely did, and for a second Amy considered giving in. He could walk her home and it’d be fine right? Her phone buzzed in her coat pocket as the bus pulled in at her stop. She picked it up.

1:12 AMTeddy Wells: Too bad you can’t come over tonight. I’m headed to bed. See you tomorrow, babe.

The text felt like a slap across the face. No. No way, she shouldn’t have Jake walk her home. Even if there were a hundred murderers hiding, waiting for her to walk by and ready to kill her, there was no way it was the time and place for Jake to go any further with her.

The original plan had been that she’d sleep at Teddy’s place tonight. Alas, that was before; before everything had felt like the good old days and she just wanted to stay in Jake’s presence; before Olivia had walked up to them and shattered something inside of her… Something she couldn’t define nor place within herself, resulting in it rumbling and burning with a frustrating restlessness inside of her.

“Okay then,” he got up from his seat, accidentally standing so close to her that she could feel his warm breath on her face. She hoped he hadn’t noticed how her breath and entire body had hitched at the unexpected closeness; a closeness her body could recognize but wasn’t used to at this point. After all this time, all these months and even the years before that, she’d expected them to feel like two identical magnetic poles rejecting each other - like south and south, or north and north - instead, they were perfect opposites attracting each other. For a second that felt like an eternity, they stood so close, too close, dwelling into the other’s eyes. Eventually, the bus stopped and the doors screeched open, startling them both out of their trance.

“Uhm,” he nervously cleared his throat and took a step back. South and south; north and north. “Text me when you get home? So I know that you’re safe.”

She’d be lying if she said her heart didn’t skip a beat. “O-okay. But don’t stay up waiting for me.”

She stepped out of the bus and into the dark street, turning back to look at him as he stood there at the center of the still-open bus doors. Perfectly centered, making the scene look very cinematic.

“You’ll be back home before I’m even on the right bus,” he chuckled and with the beat of an eye, his familiar cockiness was back. “Text me. Okay?”

“Y-yeah, I will. Promise.” She smiled weakly trying to match his sudden nonchalance.

Out of nowhere, the doors closed between them, shutting them off from each other. Without warning. It all happened so fast and before she knew it, the bus was driving off with him as the wind from its newfound speed played with her dark hair. There he went, she thought, and probably for the better.

That night she got home safe and texted him as promised. It all sounded where simple when she told him she would, but as she stood in the darkness of her kitchen writing…

1:38 AMAmy Santiago:I’m home safe. Jake, you and I have been through more than I can process right now. I can’t put a finger on what I’m feeling but I think I need space and time to think. Don’t worry about me. Goodnight.

… then deleting, her third draft for a message, she suddenly regretted promising him anything. She sighed loudly and looked at the clock. 1:37 AM. This was ridiculous; she was ridiculous. He was ridiculous.

1:38 AMAmy Santiago:Home safe. You’re so confusing, you know that, right??!! I can’t even look at you right now, like??? Do I punch you? Do I cry?? Do I laugh?? I DON’T KNOW.

As soon as she finished writing, her fingers started tapping delete. She couldn’t send that. That was ludicrous. What did it even mean? Nothing at all. Plus, she could never be that rude or mean to anyone, especially him.

“Whatever,” she sighed and hit send.

1:38 AMAmy Santiago:Home safe. Night :)

It was easier this way, she decided, as she muted his contact.

#posted this a few days ago but forgot to put it on tumblr #here it is #peraltiago #jake x amy #fanfic #au #fanfiction #brooklyn nine-nine #b99 #brooklyn nine nine #jake peralta #amy santiago

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amyscascadingtabs · 3 years

Text

don’t want to keep secrets just to keep you [chapter 1]

“Actually, I want to add one more rule.” “Yeah?” Jake leans back in his chair, crossing his arms behind his head and flexing his biceps through the green shirt with a smug grin. “You’re not allowed to fall in love with me.” "Won't be a problem."

Amy Santiago doesn't date cops. Jake Peralta's sworn never to date a lawyer again. When a couple of drinks and the returning of a borrowed shirt ends with the two of them in bed together, Amy decides to take control of the situation the best way she knows how: a comprehensive set of rules. There's just one little thing she hadn't anticipated – Jake Peralta is full of surprises.

Written for the B99 Summer 2021 Fic Exchange.

AO3 link // playlist

My contribution to this year’s fic exchange, for @fezzle! @b99fandomevents 💛

1. i never saw you coming (and i’ll never be the same)

He gets out of the car, and before Amy can gather the courage to shout after him, he’s disappeared from her sight.

She leans her forehead against the steering wheel, squeezing her fist and punching it in frustration. It doesn’t feel better, just makes her hand hurt. Amy pretends that’s what’s making her eyes tear up, and not the thought that she just screwed up her chances of ever seeing Jake Peralta again.

five months earlier.

The cop is five minutes late entering the courtroom, and Amy vows to dislike him from that point onward.

What's worse is that he doesn't seem ashamed. He simply gives Judge Stewart an apologetic grin, runs a hand through his already messy hair, and sits down on the bench next to the sergeant Amy recognizes as Terry Jeffords. Amy gives him a polite faked smile to tell him she's noted this presence and she's going to win this case, but the cop doesn't seem to notice the toxicity in her facial expression, because she gets another wide grin back. Judging from the colorful marks on his teeth, it looks like he had candy for breakfast – could it be gummy bears? Either way, Amy's respect for the man sinks even lower.

At least she won't have to worry about him, she tells herself. She already knows this case is about to be a win.

That is until it turns out this man has a reply for everything. She’d been certain the evidence against her client was circumstantial at best, nowhere near enough to get him convicted on, and the notes she’d gone through from the initial police questioning had lacked significant information. It had been nothing short of sloppy, and she’d entered the courthouse this morning filled with glowing confidence. That same confidence is now seeping away, dripping onto the polished floors of the courtroom in exchange for heated frustration as it turns out the detective – Jake Peralta, she learns – was present at the scene earlier than Amy had gathered, and from the vantage point he had, saw her client running from the corner store at full speed.

“Would you say it’s possible my client was running for a different reason?” She asks, staring coldly into the detective’s eyes as she speaks. “Such as exercising, perhaps?”

“Well, he was carrying a huge green backpack, identical to the one he was wearing when my partner Charles caught him ten minutes later. So, no,” he says, meeting her look with a smug smile of his own. “I would say that’s unlikely.”

“But not impossible?”

“Considering we also found the stolen goods in that same backpack, I’d say the chance is pretty solid it was him.”

“The bags couldn’t have been switched? Or, as my client claims, the goods couldn’t have been dropped in there by someone who wanted to get rid of them?”

“With all due respect,” says Jake Peralta, and the self-assuredness in his voice is enough for her to know the case is lost. “The streets were more crowded than a Taylor Swift concert, your honor. Someone would have seen something.”

It’s late Friday afternoon by the time Amy returns to the office of Newsom & Associates, but there’s still plenty of her coworkers left to watch as she throws her briefcase on top of the chair before closing the door to her office and digging out her pack of shame cigarettes from the bottom drawer of her desk. The only window in the room opens out to a back alley with trash cans and forgotten bikes, which is a drab view most of the time but comes in handy for secret shame-smoking. She closes her eyes and leans back against the wall, trying to savor the first inhale. She hates the habit and always tells herself she’s going to quit soon, but at times when work stresses her out like this, there’s no better fix. It’s all Jake Peralta’s fault, anyway. He’d waved at her when they’d left the courtroom, looking genuinely pleased to see her, and that had only worsened her frustration. It’s one thing being defeated – it’s worse when the winner acts like it wasn’t even a big deal.

“You should stop that.” The sound of Rosa’s voice appearing in the doorway to Amy’s office causes her to inhale too much smoke, coughing and tearing up as she hurries to extinguish the cigarette butt on the windowsill. “It’s gross.”

“I needed it,” Amy coughs again before drying her eyes with the sleeve of her blazer. “You should’ve been there. That fucking detective ruined my defense.”

“So? It happens. Doesn’t make you a bad lawyer. Stop pitying yourself.”

“You’re just saying that because you win nearly all your cases,” Amy mumbles. “And everyone’s terrified of you.”

Rosa does a little shrug, but Amy thinks she can spot the hint of a smile on her lips. She can’t be certain, though. Rosa almost never smiles, but that’s not nearly the most terrifying thing about her. She also rides her motorcycle to court and wears leather jackets and skin-tight black jeans to trials, and somehow no one's ever dared to police her on it. Amy once asked her out of curiosity if putting on a blazer would really hurt that much, and the stare she got back told her she’d be a fool to make that mistake again.

“Either way, it's not that. It was that cop who ruined everything. I mean, he showed up late, for god’s sake, with candy in his teeth and a wrinkled suit! But he somehow had an answer and explanation for everything,” Amy snorts. “And he smiled the whole time like he’d already won. And he referenced Taylor Swift! During the trial! Who does that?”

Rosa lets out a laugh. “You're a Swift hater? God, please don't tell me you took Kanye’s side too.”

“I didn't – that's beside the point!”

“Which is?”

“That he has zero respect for the sacred rules of a courtroom, and gets away with it all because of that super-charm smile.”

“Yeah, you mentioned the smile. Twice.”

“It was just so…” She clenches her fist until her red nails press into her palm to the point of pain, then releases it. “It's fine. I’ll win my next case, and there are lots of cops in New York. I probably won't ever see him again.”

Amy can barely hide her frustration in court the next week when she hears the doors open and looks up from the papers she was sorting, only to see Jake Peralta for the second time in her life. He’s on time today, which she supposes is progress, but there are stains on his shirt that seem to be coming from the can of orange soda he’s holding in his hand. She wonders if it's his breakfast. If that's his diet, he looks surprisingly fit in a grey suit for it.

He grins again when he sees her, raising his hand in a lazy wave. Amy gives him a forced smile, then returns to her papers. She’ll have to make sure to win this time.

But despite her confidence and very best efforts, she loses to Jake Peralta yet another time.

And another.

It's not that she's suddenly magically unlucky, because she still manages to win several other cases, but every time Jake Peralta shows up to testify, without fault, Amy loses.

It infuriates her.

The worst part is that Jake seems oblivious to her anger. He smiles at her every time they leave the courtroom, even though she returns them with little to no genuineness at all. She once spots him doing a childish victory gesture outside the courthouse, but he never once takes the opportunity to brag about his win to her face.

Aside from his surprisingly good manners when it comes to bragging, though, he's a mess. There's always some kind of stain on his shirt or his cheek that he seems unaware of, his ways of describing things involve one too many pop culture references for Amy’s liking, and she starts preparing to meet him every time a detective is five minutes late. She wonders if no one's ever told him how one is supposed to behave in a courtroom, but he’s usually accompanied by the precinct’s sergeant, so that seems unlikely. The more likely option, Amy figures, is that he just doesn't seem to find it that important; especially considering he seems to get away with it every single time.

She swears it's all because of that stupid infectious smile.

It pleases Amy to no end when she learns that Jake Peralta is going to be the witness in one of the strongest cases she’s had in a long while. The client was clearly acting in self-defense, she has a witness of her own who can testify to that, and although she knows that nothing is for certain until the verdict falls, she’s got a good feeling about this one. Finally, the day has come for Jake Peralta to watch her win.

At first, the state attorney’s case seems solid. Jake is assisted by a short, round-faced man with dark brown hair and an expression that looks like he’s seconds away from apologizing for taking up everyone’s time, but his suit is matched and perfectly straight and he gets right to the point without any odd references, so Amy still earns a fair amount of respect for detective Charles Boyle. He and Jake had entered the subway car after hearing about a fight taking place, and stepped on just in time to watch her client aim a closed-fist punch at the face of the man on top of him. It’s clear and convincing, but Amy knows that after the recess, it will be her time to shine. She loves these moments, when it’s obvious the other side thinks they have it in the bag but she knows something they don’t, and they have no idea what’s coming. She knows trials are about justice and not personal victories – but she’s only human. Winning is always a thrill.

She’s thinking about how she’s going to be celebrating her win later this evening when Jake Peralta bumps into her at the coffee shop neighboring the courthouse. As in, literally bumps into her, with his elbow when he hurries forward to grab a plastic cup with whipped cream and so much caramel syrup on top of the coffee that Amy pities his dentist.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry… wait, it's you!” He shines up as if he’d just seen a past good friend, and Amy’s once more taken aback by how polite he is. A lot of cops she meets during trials either tend to make fun of her profession or glare bitterly at her from a distance, but Jake's doing neither. He even reaches out his free hand to shake hers, so she accepts. “Jake Peralta – wow, you have a very firm handshake.”

“I took a seminar. Amy Santiago.”

“Where?” He asks, but she ignores him and moves forward in line to order her coffee with milk.

“Nothing for your client? Wow. I’d expected you to have better manners than that, Santiago.”

“I offered, but he wanted to spend recess with his partner for moral support. See?” She raises a brow at him. “I do have manners.”

There's that smile again, up close this time, and Amy's relieved when the barista hands her the coffee so she can hide the involuntary blush in her cheeks. She never noticed he had dimples before.

“So, how are you feeling about the rest of the trial, then? Ready to go defend the guilty guy?”

“Innocent until proven guilty, Peralta. Famously one of the most sacred principles in the American justice system. And I was born ready.”

“And lose. The whole question was, are you ready to go defend the guilty guy and lose, and you said you were born that way.” Jake grins in a way that makes him look like an overgrown mischievous school kid. Maybe not that far off, Amy thinks.

“Twist my words all you want, I am winning this case.” She hesitates for a moment, noticing Jake's detective partner looking at the two of them from a table in the corner of the room. Not normally something she'd be that creeped out by, if it hadn't been for the fact that the man isn’t tearing his eyes away from them, and he looks weirdly overjoyed. “Uhm, is detective Boyle okay? He's staring at us pretty intensely.”

“Huh? Oh yeah, he has… an eye condition.” Jake turns around and mouths something that looks to be BOYLE, and the man rolls his eyes before stalking away. “Ignore him. Anyway… so what do you think about the judge?”

Amy's about to launch into a description of her good experience with judge Myers when someone brushes past her with their iced coffee in a hurry, losing control of the plastic cup. The unsecured lid wobbles, and before Amy realizes what’s about to happen, cold coffee splashes onto her earlier pristine white blouse. “Fuck!” She reaches for a bunch of paper napkins and tries to dab the worst away with them, but the milky coffee is already seeping through the fabric and leaving an obvious stain that her blazer can’t hide.

“What a jerk,” Jake mutters, glaring in the direction of where the stranger disappeared.

“Never mind that! I don’t have another shirt! I can’t go into a courtroom looking like this! Unlike you, I actually care about whether my clothes have giant stains on them!”

“First of all, rude, and second of all, they’re not giant.”

“I don’t care. I’m screwed. Fuck, I don’t have time to run back home before the trial starts – I guess I could call Rosa –”

“Hey, hey.” Jake holds up his hands as if trying to calm her down, which only makes Amy more frustrated. “I know this is kind of crazy, but, I have a shirt in my car that I was planning to return to my ex. But emphasis on ex, so…” He shrugs. “You could borrow it?”

Amy considers her options. On the one hand, she figures there’s about an eighty percent chance that whatever Jake has in his car also has some kind of mysterious stain on it, but on the other hand, she took the subway today and there's no way she’ll make it to her apartment and back before the court is back in session. Asking for a longer recess is an option, but making everyone wait simply because she needs a change of clothes makes her too uncomfortable to even consider.

“Fine,” she relents. “Where's your car?”

Jake's car turns out to be an old Mustang, which Amy can tell even from her strictly limited car-knowledge is pretty impressive, but she doesn't understand how he can find anything in there. The backseat is a mess of empty orange soda bottles, a couple of frisbees, candy wrappers, what looks to be cartoons and old CDs, and the cup holders have shaving foam next to another can of orange soda. She's equally surprised and impressed when he pulls out a clean, dark blue charmeuse blouse. Whoever Jake's ex-girlfriend was, she seems to have both taste and money.

“You're totally saving my day today,” she says as he gives it to her. “You really didn't have to.”

“Prove that cops aren't all bad?” Amy rolls her eyes, and Jake laughs. “Just kidding. You have to give it back, though.”

“As soon as I’ve washed it. Wait, we have to be able to get in touch.” She digs in the inside pocket of her briefcase and pulls out two of her business cards. “I’m assuming you don't have any, so write your number on the back of that one.”

“Rude, but correct.” He scribbles down something on one of the cards before giving it back. “I’ll see you up there, then… Amy Santiago.”

Something about the way he says her name, slowly and with perfect pronunciation, makes her want to hear it again. She hurries back into the building and toward the bathrooms, hopefully before he can tell that she's blushing.

“The defense may call the next witness.”

“The defense calls Elinor Simons.” Amy can feel everyone's eyes on her as well as the witness as a young girl, no more than eighteen, walks up to the stand. She's pale, but she looks determined, and Amy gives her a comforting smile as she swears the oath.

Elinor’s voice trembles at her first words, but Amy keeps steady eye contact with her, and soon she’s speaking louder and less hesitant. She had been on her way to her friend’s house when she entered the same subway car as the two young men, and had overheard the two of them fighting over something. Sitting only a few seats away from them in the near-empty car, she’d noticed the defendant looking scared, and out of curiosity, had turned off her music. She’d heard the man who’d later gotten attacked – Mr. Lorentz – scream that the defendant was an asshole, and then she’d seen him push him to the floor, much unlike the way the prosecution had described a course of events in which both men had slipped. It had scared her, so she’d gotten up to walk away, but before she could move she’d seen Mr. Lorentz leaning down.

“It looked like he was about to hit the defendant,” she says without wavering, and Amy can see a few of the jury members nodding in understanding. “And even if they were about the same size, Mr. Lorentz looked really strong. The defendant tried, but it seemed to me like he was unable to get up. I remember thinking this wasn’t going to end well, so I headed for the end of the car before they noticed me.”

“And you’re sure of what you saw?”

“Completely sure. I only found out later that the defendant was a cousin of my sister’s boyfriend, which is how I learned about the trial.”

Amy nods and clasps her hands together, trying to assume a confident stance as she keeps her eyes focused on the witness stand. “Elinor, in the position he was in, do you believe that the defendant would have been scared?”

“I think anyone would have been.”

“So the punch witnesses watched the defendant throw, could it have been in self-defense?”

“Yes. Yes, I think so.”

Amy smiles. “Thank you. No further questions.”

The prosecution’s closing arguments are short and precise, sticking entirely to the part of the events that took part after the police walked in. The district attorney, a balding man in his fifties, as good as overlooks Elinor’s testimony in favor of focusing in on detailed descriptions of the headaches Mr. Lorentz had experienced after the event, and that alone is enough to make Amy’s blood boil; but instead she just sits there, waiting with a polite smile on her lips.

Finally, the other attorney sits down, and the judge nods at Amy to stand up. During her very first trials, this moment used to freak her out – everyone’s eyes on her and waiting expectantly – but with time she’s come to love this. It reminds her of the thrill of getting the last word in a heated fight with her siblings when she was younger, only now, she doesn’t have to shout to be heard. Everyone’s already listening.

“Your Honor, ladies and gentlemen of the jury: it’s correct that the defendant hit Mr. Lorentz on that train. He admits to doing so himself.” Amy nods to the young man sitting next to her, fidgeting nervously with the cuffs on his shirt. “But there is one key aspect which the prosecution has so conveniently chosen to ignore, and that is the events which led up to Mr. Petersen’s actions. A background which he not only has explained clearly himself, but which is also backed up by Ms. Simmons’ testimony.” She gestures with her hand to Elinor.

“You see, Mr. Petersen wasn’t acting unprovoked. When the incident happened, he had been pushed to the floor, and like both my client and the witness described, he was unable to get up. Mr. Lorentz himself admits to practicing weightlifting; he’s not a weak man, and in the moment, he was clearly upset with the defendant. As Ms. Simmons put it… “ She takes a break to gather the attention of everyone in the room. “Anyone in that position would have been terrified.”

“Under New York Law, Penal Law paragraph thirty-five point fifteen, a person is justified in using physical force against another, when that person is under the reasonable belief that the physical force is necessary to defend the person from what they reasonably believe to be the illegal imminent use of force or the illegal use of force. Mr. Petersen was stuck, and under the reasonable belief that Mr. Lorentz could hurt him unless he managed to free himself. He acted in self-defense, which I remind you that the prosecution has not been able to disprove. In fact, the case against Mr. Petersen cannot be proved against reasonable doubt, which means that you must find him… not guilty.”

From the other side of the room, she swears she can feel Jake’s eyes on her. When she looks up, she sees him mouthing nice job.

“What did you say he looked like, now again? Except for crazy hot and adorable?” Kylie takes another sip of her mojito, spying over the crowded bar.

“Okay, I said neither of those things.”

Kylie shrugs. “Didn’t have to.”

“Ugh. Whatever. Brown hair, brown eyes, medium height, I guess kind of a bigger nose… and I don’t know what he wears outside of court, but there was a leather jacket in the front seat of his car, so maybe that?” She strains her neck to try and see through the Friday night crowd. She’s never been to this particular Brooklyn bar before, but Jake had suggested it when Amy asked about a good place to give him back the shirt, and she’d figured after a long week, she might as well treat herself to a couple of after-work drinks with a friend. After being asked about the so-called mystery hottie five times, though, she’s starting to regret bringing Kylie along.

“Mm, that’s like, all the guys in here… oh, wait, that one’s waving to you!” Kylie points to a figure near the door, elbowing Amy in the side and causing her to nearly choke on her wine. She’s still coughing when Jake walks up to them, trying to offer him a smile while drying her eyes. Jake looks politely confused, but shakes Kylie’s hand in the meantime.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” she says with a meaning wink to Amy before sliding off the leather barstool, leaving it for Jake. “Have a good night!”

“Ignore her.” Amy sighs. “Sorry, I…”

“No, no worries,” Jake says, and the honest care in his expression makes her feel oddly warm. “You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry.” She waves a dismissive hand and picks up the dry-cleaning bag hanging on the back of her chair. “Well, here’s the shirt. Thank you for the loan. Or thank your ex, I suppose.”

“Dry-cleaned, really? You truly are type A.”

“What about it?”

“Nothing, it makes sense.” He nods to the glass in her hand. “Celebrating Tuesday’s win?”

“Something like that. It was Monday, though,” she can’t stop herself from correcting him. “I don’t get a lot of time off. Gotta make the best out of it.”

“Yeah, me neither. Do you mind if I join you for another drink? Or maybe you should do water, in case you choke again?”

Something about the way he poses it like a challenge makes her take the glass, put it to her lips, and swallow the rest of the wine in one gulp. “I think I can handle it.”

They pay for their own drinks, because whatever this meeting is, it’s definitely not a date, and it makes Amy relieved that Jake doesn’t seem to think so either.

“A toast,” he suggests. “To your win this week. I gotta give it to you, those closing statements were solid.”

“To justice,” Amy says, and they raise their beer bottles in unison. “And my win. Finally.”

“Yeah, what has it been, like, five wins for me?”

“Four, but dream on, Peralta.”

Jake laughs. The dimples in his cheeks become even more prominent when he laughs, Amy notes. “Have you always been this intense about winning cases, then? Or is it something that comes with law school? Like there’s a class in being petty about this stuff?”

You’re intense too, she thinks, but doesn’t say it out loud. “Maybe. I have seven brothers, and I was the only girl. I got pretty good at winning fights using other things than physical strength when I was a kid. Actually, sometimes physical strength, too.”

“I feel like you could beat someone up if you wanted to. You could surprise them.”

“Oh, I could most definitely beat someone up if I wanted to. But I stuck to arguing. I got good at it. And I always had good grades, so I ended up at Columbia, and I’ve never really regretted it.” She takes a swig of her beer. “Not even when cops call me the devil.”

“I wouldn’t call you the devil,” Jake says. “I mean, do I think you lack a bit of a moral compass? Probably. But each to their own.”

She leans her head a little bit to the side, eyeing him closely. “Why do you think that?”

“Well, you have to defend people that you know did awful things, right? Doesn’t that make you feel sick sometimes?”

“I don’t have to defend their actions. Most times, it’s not even about that. It’s about making sure the trial is fair, the evidence is sufficient and their rights are respected, so that if there’s a conviction, it’s actually beyond any reasonable doubt. I like to believe most people are better than their worst moments. I see it as my job to make sure they’re treated that way.”

“Huh.” Jake nods slowly. “Guess I never thought of it that way.”

“Plus,” she winks, “someone’s gotta hold you guys accountable, right?”

“Fine.” He shakes his head. “Hey, did you say you went to Columbia? My captain’s husband teaches law there. Did you ever have a Kevin Cozner?”

“No way! Your captain is Raymond Holt?” She’s speaking way too loudly, she can tell from the way other people are glancing at her, but Jake looks entertained. “Sorry, it’s just – Professor Cozner was my favorite constitutional law teacher. I still send him and Raymond Christmas cards every year!”

“That doesn’t surprise me in the slightest.” Jake grins. “But, how weird is that? Almost like the universe is bringing us together or something.”

Amy thinks that it’s not that weird, since Kevin must teach hundreds of students every year that g on to become lawyers, but she kind of wants to keep seeing that smile on Jake’s face forever, so she nods. “So weird.”

They order another drink, plus some chips and nuts when Jake realizes he forgot to eat dinner, and move to another table in the back of the room. Amy’s surprised how comfortable she feels in his presence. It’s like she can’t wipe the smile off her face but doesn’t want to, and with time and a little more alcohol, jokes that she barely would have noticed on any other day become laugh-out-loud funny. It feels natural, even though she’s not sure how, and she tries not to glance at the clock on the wall when he doesn’t either. She’s got work to do tomorrow and she can’t stay out forever, but she doesn’t want to be reminded that this evening has to end at some point.

“So what made you become a cop, then?” She asks when she realizes she’s the only one who’s shared her origin story tonight. “Childhood superhero dreams?”

Jake shines up like he’s been waiting for the question all night. “Oh, that’s easy. Die Hard.”

“Really?”

“For sure. Actually, my mom said I was always good at protecting people, so I ended up doing it for a job. But I think that’s bullshit. It was definitely Die Hard.”

“I’ve never seen it,” Amy confesses, and Jake stares at her like she just insulted his entire being. “But if you want a cop movie, my top three’s Training Day, Lethal Weapon, and Fargo.”

“Wrong, wrong, and wrong! How can you not have seen Die Hard? It’s classic, man!”

“I just never did! How many lawyer movies have you seen, then?”

“Uhm…” Jake squints. “Charles made me watch Legally Blonde once? It was pretty good, honestly.”

“Well, duh, that movie is a cinematic masterpiece and a feminist work of art. How feminist is Die Hard, from a scale of one to ten?”

“Hey! Holly Gennaro does plenty of cool stuff throughout the movies! You’re just going to have to watch them yourself.”

“I can almost guarantee you I won’t.”

“Fine, but you’re missing out.” He grabs a couple of peanuts from the jar between them, throwing them in the air and catching them in his mouth. “Cool trick, right?”

Amy raises an eyebrow. “Is this what you do at work all day?”

“I did teach myself that during stakeouts, but no. Whatever. Throw me another one.” She does, and he catches it again, this time almost sliding off the barstool in the process. She laughs a bubbling laugh as he does it another time. “Now you.”

“Fine. Try me.” The peanut flies through the air between them, and she tries to dive for it, but it just ends up landing at her feet. “Okay, another one.” She misses that one too. “Okay, there must be something wrong with these nuts.”

“Title of your sextape.”

“Title of my what?”

“Nevermind.” Jake laughs. “You just need some practice. Maybe at work? It could liven up a trial.”

“Nuh-uh, don’t need practice. Just need a better tactic.” Without thinking, she grabs a handful of them this time, throwing them in the air. This time, she catches a few of them in her mouth, while the rest end up spread over the couch and floor. “The key is volume!”

“Yeah, and the bartender is looking at you like he wants to kill you, so maybe don’t do it again or we’ll get thrown out.”

“It’s fine, I’m a lawyer.”

“That phrase works well to get out of trouble?”

“If you know what you’re doing. We could order more drinks to keep him happy?”

“Shots?”

“I’m down if you’re down.”

Jake orders a Kamikaze shot for each of them, and as she reaches forward to take the second glass, her hand brushes against the top of his for a moment longer than necessary, resting there. It’s warm, and it feels calloused but somehow soft at the same time. They look at each other, his light brown eyes staring into hers, and she feels instantly hyper-aware that they’re around far, far, too many people.

She lets go of his hand, taking the shot and swallowing it before anyone can notice what’s happening. It smells like sour hand sanitizer and burns going down, and she laughs at Jake’s grimace when he drinks his.

“God, every time.” He shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair. “Hey, I know this is crazy, but… do you maybe want to get out of here? We could have another drink at my place… watch Die Hard… whatever.”

“Mm, yeah. Maybe I should check that the shirt gets back to your place properly?”

“Shirt? What shirt? Oh, right, fuck, the shirt!” Jake spins in place, rushing back to the table where they were just sat. “Shit, I probably spilled beer on it, Sophia’s going to be pissed now...”

“It’s still in the bag, smartass.” Amy shows him. “Ta-da. Shirt’s still clean. Comes in handy being type A sometimes, huh?”

Jake sighs. “I know you're making fun of me, but I could seriously kiss you right now.”

Maybe it’s the four drinks, maybe it’s the thrill that comes with how rarely she does this, or maybe it’s just sheer and wild impulse, but Amy finds herself whispering,

“Maybe we should get out of here, then.”

Amy learns a lot of things that night.

She learns that Jake Peralta is a seriously good kisser, tasting faintly of orange soda beneath the alcohol and salt, and that being pressed against his front door with his hands protecting her head strikes the perfect balance between feeling adventurous and safe. She learns that he’s never really quiet, soft moans and sighs filling the room in the breaks between their kisses, but that the sound only makes her want more.

She learns that he wears even more layers than her. Beneath the leather jacket and hoodie is a checkered blue flannel that has way too many buttons for her liking right now, and she curses her slight tipsiness while working at them one by one. When she's finally done, Jake pulls the grey t-shirt over his head, and she barely has time to pause to admire how he somehow can look fit despite that catastrophic diet, or the curls on his chest that are begging for her to run her fingers through them, before he's asking “my turn?”. She learns that Jake Peralta is impatient, that his hands work fast on the buttons of her cerise shirt, and that he gets adorably confused when he can't find the button on her suit pants.

“It's on the side,” she tells him and shows him the zipper, and then they're both giggling until she kisses him like that and it's back on again.

She learns that his hands feel good, sliding slowly up the sides of her stomach and back and rubbing against her shoulder blades. She unclasps the white t-shirt bra for him, smiling to herself as he swallows quickly.

“God, you’re hot,” he whispers, and the soft bites he trails down her chest and stomach make her feel that way, too.

They move to his bed, leaving a trail of clothes behind them, and then she’s underneath him and breathing hard as his mouth moves lower, closer. The anticipation of it all is driving her mad, but then he looks up at her and asks “okay?” with the most sincere and caring expression, and Amy’s had very, very few one-night-stands in her life, but she’s certainly never had one like this.

“Okay,” she nods, and there’s that familiar grin again, but this time it makes her feel warm in a very specific place.

She learns that Jake Peralta can do a whole lot more with his mouth than talking people’s ears off. His breath ghosts over her through her underwear at first, warming her up even though it’s barely even necessary, and then he’s finally pulling down the black material and helping her kick them off. His tongue is careful at first, just tasting her as if to gauge her expression, but then she nods at him to continue and the next second, her head is thrown back as she lets out a gasp.

She learns that he likes it when she pulls his hair. At first, her hands are just lightly tangling in it for practicality, but then she holds on tighter as a means of control when her legs begin to tense up and the familiar pressure is starting to rise. She’s raising her hips slightly only to lower them again, helping him get her there, and the curls of his hair are just begging to be pulled.

“Do that again,” he pauses to say, so she tugs his hair harder and he straight-up moans.

She learns that he can make her scream, which she wasn’t expecting, and she rocks through the euphoric waves and pants and practically melts into the bed as she comes down from it.

“That good?” He winks, and she wants to roll her eyes, but he did just make her come harder than she remembers doing in a long time, so she kisses the smile off of him instead, tasting her arousal on his lips.

She learns that he's respectful and a gentleman, telling her that they can stop this here if she'd rather, but she doesn’t want to, and they don’t. He has to rifle through the drawer in his bedside table for a while before he finds a condom – maybe he doesn’t do this as often as she’d thought, maybe it’s another sign of his poor organization skills, but he finds one soon enough so she’s not sure she cares – and then it’s a little bit of a blur, but she rolls it on him with precise strokes and lowers herself on top of him and oh my god.

She learns that when he looks at her, when he touches her, it makes her feel powerful and special all at once. He plays with her boobs as she sets the pace, his thumbs rolling against her nipples in a way she didn’t realize she liked, and she picks up her rhythm, clenching around him and leaning back on his raised thighs.

She learns just how enjoyable it is to watch him fall apart underneath her. His pace stutters and he curses, groaning a confession of how close he is, and she could almost come again from watching him alone but she brings two fingers to her clit and touches herself anyway. He finishes before her, spilling out inside the condom with a moan that she can only imitate, collapsing against his chest as she brings herself to orgasm again right after him.

When they're done learning, they collapse together in his bed. For a moment, Amy considers turning around and calling a cab home, because that would be the most responsible thing to do, but then Jake throws an arm around her to pull her closer, and after all, she's still a little tipsy.

What harm could it possibly do, anyway?

Sharp, unforgiving morning light wakes Amy up before her alarm the next morning. She must have forgotten to close the blinds last night, she thinks, and rolls over on the other side so the light doesn't hurt her eyes. She expects the usual greeting of a sea of pillows, and has to stop herself from letting out a yelp of surprise when instead, she's hit with a wall of Jake sleeping with his back to her. A vague memory of them falling asleep like this hits her. He’d wanted to be the little spoon, she remembers.

At first, knowing that intimate fact about him makes her feel proud. Then it makes her panic.

She jumps out of bed, throwing off her part of the comforter in search of her clothes. She finds her underwear and bra together with her shirt, trying to dress as quietly as possible, quick before Jake wakes up and discovers that she's half-naked in his apartment and they have to have a very, very awkward talk –

“Amy? What are you doing?”

Too late.

She freezes on the spot, chewing on her lip as she fumbles for an explanation. Jake’s eyes rake over her with curiosity, which somehow feels a lot more exposing today than it did last night, and it's making her lose track of her words. His bed head curls and disoriented smile is decidedly not helping her focus.

“We slept together last night,” she manages.

Jake’s smile grows wider and prouder as he sits up fully in bed. Amy blushes as she notices the shadow of two hickeys way too close to his neck to be professional.

“Yeah, I was there.”

“Very funny.” She sees her pants thrown across the back of a massage chair and quickly reaches for them. “But this… You know this can’t be a thing, right? Just so we're on the same page about it.”

Jake frowns. “What do you mean with a thing?”

“This – us – we can't date, Jake. I know that. You know that.”

He’s silent for a moment before he fakes a shudder. “Yeah, yeah, no. I’ve dated lawyers before. Never ends well.”

“You have?” The reveal surprises her. “It doesn't matter. This can’t happen.”

“I know.”

“Good,” she exhales. “I’m just going to find my clothes, then, and then I’m going to leave.”

“Hey, wait.” He twists his hands together, bringing them to his chin with a smile. “This is going to sound weird, but… even if nothing can happen between us, I’m still glad we had sex last night.”

The confession takes her by surprise, and Amy wonders again if she just doesn't know anything about one-night-stands. Sleep together, have fun, sneak out in the morning before anything can go deeper – isn't that how it's supposed to go? If so, she's majorly failing, because she can't stop herself from giving him another shy smile in return.

“Me too. Just because, we were like… really good at it.”

“Stupid good!” Jake exclaims. “It makes no sense!”

“We still can't date, though,” she reminds him. “So how do we work this out?”

“Well, it sort of looked like you were planning to just leave, and I’m not going to stop you if that's your choice, but… there is one more option.”

“What are you thinking?”

“We could be friends with benefits,” he shrugs. “None of the commitment, none of the weird incompatibilities between a cop and a lawyer, just us and some stupid good sex.”

“Friends with benefits? Do the kids really say that, still?”

“I’m saying you could consider it.”

Amy's first instinct is to protest, to say absolutely not and leave on the spot. Her relationship history may not contain that many names, but at least they’ve all been fairly straightforward and conventional. She's never done something like this before, and the mere idea of jumping into something so unknown with someone like Jake scares her shitless.

Then again, she's also never been with someone like Jake. Yesterday hadn't been a date, but it had still been better than all the awkward dinners and half-hearted walks she's been at since she broke up with Teddy a year ago. And the sex – well, she'd be lying if she said she wasn't already thinking of doing that again.

“There would need to be rules,” she says.

“Sure, we can come up with some.”

“I’ll write a contract.”

“We need a contract?”

“Yeah,” she decides. “If this is going to work, we need a comprehensive set of rules, and they need to be written down, because I don't trust you not to adjust them in your head last minute.”

“How am I attracted to you? But, fine.”

Amy shakes her head, closing the last button on the shirt that had been left unbuttoned until now. “So… I’ll put together a draft and bring it over tonight? Your place?”

Jake gapes at her for a moment like he can't believe what he hears, but then he nods. “I’m free.”

“Cool. I’ll see you tonight, then.” With that, she pulls on her socks and shoes, leaving before she can freak out again.

“Cool, cool,” she hears just before closing the door. “Friends with benefits. Cool, cool, cool, cool… cool.”

#b99fandomevents #b99 summer 2021 fic exchange #my writing #b99 #peraltiago #jake x amy #b99 fic #b99 fanfiction #jake x amy fanfiction #peraltiago fanfiction #MY FIRST AU PLEASE ENJOY #three more parts to come hahah but i'm only going to post one before the deadline #read on ao3 if you want line breaks since tumblr has ruined those

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wandawxdow · 3 years

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autumn leaves by brooklyn99

Part of the Pack by flannelfeelings

Docking at the Dock by mariadperiad20

Perchance to Dream by Whumpdeedoo

when all your heroes get tired (i’ll be something better yet) by amyscascadingtabs

I will love you (with every single thing I have) by arg130

The Detectives and the Bees by flannelfeelings

Coming Out, Friendship Stylez (Styles With A Z) by funnywithachanceofmurder

Words I Want To Hear by flannelfeelings

All The Bad We Can’t Erase by BergaraHoe

Lights Out by amazingsantiago

Show Me Gone by mariadperiad20

Against The Cold by thirteenbythirteen

the missing pieces of my heart, they finally collide by amyscascadingtabs

Don’t Be Afriad of These Thunderclouds by ClaraBrielle

coming to term(s) by boxofnothing

Branches Were Sewn by flannelfeelings

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amydancepants-peralta · 3 years

Note

mr mendes just released a new song & i was wondering if you could write something inspired by the line: "i wonder what it's like to be loved by you" 😌✨

Ericaaa I loved this prompt! 💕 Of course I had to throw in some Pining because it’s so good ... hope you enjoy! (here it is on AO3)

to be loved by you

It’s a secret to absolutely no-one that Amy Santiago is the kind of woman that likes to excel in any skillset. Unapologetic in her badass-ery, she can (and has) chase a perp through the boroughs of Brooklyn in boots that have a higher heel than three of her male colleagues put together. Her finely tuned memory - the same one that has led Trivia Newton John to seven straight victories - helped solve a series of long-dead case files, and her problem solving skills are the reason that one of the city’s biggest kingpins is currently behind bars.

With this in mind, one could consider it safe to say that Amy regretting her natural ability to ace any situation would be up there with hell freezing over, or for a flock of pigs to soar across the sky.

But tonight, here in Shaw’s bar as she watches Jake have what seems to be a lovely date with Sophia; Amy just might be, if only maybe a little, slightly regretting her highly graded observation skills (yes, the same ones that pushed her into the highest percentile when graduating from the academy - which she very rarely brags about, and she really should - it was mentioned in the commissioners speech and everything).

To be fair, it wasn’t all bad. She could, for example; hear the jukebox in the corner, playing Come on Eileen for the fifth time in a row - unknowingly settling into a duet with squelching sneakers as a bunch of drunken frat guys danced, all of them too far gone to notice any repetition. Plus, she could pick up on the subtle click of the acrylic nails on the woman at a neighbouring table, listening to them tap against a series of her friends’ photographs, rotating between descriptions of priddy and gawgeous.

Mixed with the scent of spilled beer and day-old peanuts, it was exactly the combination that to others may appear seedy, but to Amy and the squad, just seemed … familiar. Shaw’s was their watering hole, the basement bar each could disappear into and drink to forget their days, and despite the five empty glasses on her table and the half-full one in her hand, Amy was finding it incredibly difficult to stop noticing just how sweet Jake was with his girlfriend.

Even more impossible was to stop imagining what it would be like if she were the one standing near the dart board, with Jake’s arm resting comfortably over her shoulders.

It had all started earlier today, when she had glanced over at her partner just in time to pick up on the tiny little smile that grew on his face when he noticed a text from Sophia.

(Okay, it’s possible that it had actually started back at The Maple Drip Inn, with that look he’d given her after maybe, yes, a little. It had definitely led to a series of Thoughts after Teddy’s departure, of which she’d only given herself just that night to think about.)

(Except ‘that night’ then turned into that week, and okay fine then it had turned into ‘just that month'; and now here she is, several weeks later; completely unable of getting Jake Peralta off of her mind, and it’s becoming very likely that this is more than just a little crush.)

It had been so endearing to see, that tiny glimpse of joy and enchantment as he’d read Sophia’s message - just fleeting enough for Amy to wonder if anybody had ever reacted to a message from her with such glee. (Teddy, she remembers, preferred not to text; and would instead express his affections by saving her the last bottle of his favourite pilsner, or brewing a new concoction ‘inspired by her’ … sweet, but somehow didn’t hold the same sentiment.)

So she’d kept her eyes glued to the computer screen in front of her as she listened to Jake pick up the phone and order a bunch of flowers to be delivered to Sophia’s office - using his debit card, and not a combination of the five questionably balanced credit cards under his name - which in itself is huge. Pretended not to notice the multiple kiss emojis in his reply, or the soft tune that he hummed for a few minutes after, focusing intensely on the case file in front of her as she described a recent interrogation in finite detail. Kept up the facade of all that stuff with us is in the past as he recounted a romantic weekend to their squad in the break room - laughing along in all the right places, doing her very best to keep the wistfulness out of her eyes.

And all the while, Amy’s mind had kept contemplating if she would ever get to know what it would be like to date someone like Jake: to have somebody who would take all the black and whites of her life and show her the beautiful greys in-between.

So when he’d shown up at Shaw’s this evening, with Sophia’s hand carefully wrapped around his own and a grin that announced his contentment to anyone who cared to look; Amy had felt her heart squeeze painfully in her chest. Her painted smile had just lasted until the couple retreated to the corner for a crazily competitive game of darts, and Amy had decided tonight would be a great opportunity to drown her sorrows in a few glasses of whiskey, doing her absolute best not to notice all the little things she will never have.

Like the way Jake would punctuate each congratulatory high five with a kiss, even when it meant that his girlfriend had beaten him at a game. The gentle way he steered them away from a rambunctious crowd, keeping an eye on the raised voices as his unaware girlfriend played her shot and came so close to hitting the bullseye. Or the way Sophia’s hand would rest on Jake’s chest as he held her in his arms (just the way that Amy wishes she could do), and the way she would laugh so happily as he commented on the drunk guys dancing near them.

It was all very simple, but undeniably sweet, and Amy doesn’t know how she ever doubted that Jake would be anything but.

“Your covert skills need work, Santiago.”

The chair beside Amy scrapes angrily against the worn floorboards and she turns, startled by the interruption, quietly praying that her face isn’t quite as red as it suddenly feels. Terry, far more interested in taking the last sip of his scotch than commenting on her appearance, settles in to his new location next to her, and his glass hits the soaking cardboard coaster with a slap.

“Wha-huh? Covert skills? You really must be drunk, Sarge. We’re not even on a stakeout right now. Unless you’re talking about us staking out the contents of that fridge behind the bar haha!”

(She’s rambling - she knows she’s rambling; but cannot stop the desperate need to pretend that she hadn’t just been completely busted for spending her entire evening staring at a life she may never know.)

“Ugh. Okay fine.” Her mouth stretches out into a cringe, eyes flickering to the colleagues Terry had just walked away from. “How noticeable are we talking here?”

“Noticeable enough that Charles has spent the last 40 minutes lamenting on ‘the beautiful tragedy of unrequited love’”. Dropping his air quotes, Terry rolls his eyes, one eyebrow lowering as he returns to his drink. “He lost me when he started quoting poetry. Terry loves Shakespeare, but he could do with a little less soliloquies - and a little more spirits - tonight.”

“Oh! You know what, there was just a Shakespeare play in Polonsky that starred - ” Terry overlaps her last words with his own heavy voice, and Amy’s stops in it’s tracks.

“Dianne Wiest. Terry knows. That was his segue, Amy.”

She nods, sensing the need to dig up. “Should have known. Charles loves his Wiest feasts.” Terry grunts his assent, pressing his lips together as he savours another verse-less sip, and Amy seizes the opportunity to cast another furtive glance at the happy couple.

“Seriously, though. Just because Peralta hasn’t noticed, doesn’t mean the rest of us haven’t.”

Amy brushes her hair to the side, swirling the liquid in her glass with her free hand. “Okay, so maybe I haven’t been very subtle tonight, or whatever.” Her gaze returns to Jake, drawn to him like a magnet, and her heart squeezes once more.

To his credit, Terry gives her a moment; waiting for a silence to settle over their table before leaning forward in his chair, ignoring the sticky residue of the tabletop as he rests his arms on either side of his glass.

“Out with it, Santiago.”

She shakes her head, swallowing hard to push down the burgeoning lump in her throat. “They look really happy together, don’t they? He looks … happy.”

Terry shrugs, glancing in the direction of Amy’s eye line. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“He does! All shiny and cheerful and just .. happy.”

“I don’t know. Terry remembers a time when you and Teddy looked just as content.” His look is pointed, and followed by the unsubtle raise of his eyebrows. Amy nods, draining the last of her drink. Somehow, she has a feeling that Sophia’s underwear isn’t lined with mesh like Teddy’s had been (and even if it was, it would be some kind of inexplicably sexy mesh, for sure).

“Sometimes things aren’t what they seem, sarge.”

“You know that works both ways, don’t you?”

Nodding again, Amy wipes her thumb along the smudged lipstick print on her glass, choosing to remain silent. Terry didn’t get it - none of them got it, really. She’d had her chance, the very first time the words romantic styles were uttered, and she’d let it slip away. And now, she has to live with the consequences.

Clearing his throat, Terry continues. “I mean … she is a defence attorney, you know.”

“But see, even that isn’t something that I can fault. Not fairly, anyway.” Clocking the look of disbelief on Terry’s face, Amy shrugs defensively, waving her hand vaguely in Sophia’s direction. “I know we all like to joke and call them evil, but really … all they’re doing is making us prove that our findings are beyond reasonable doubt. If anything, it’s people like her that push us to do better - to work harder to make sure that we’re definitely charging the right person. And as annoying as that can be, it’s definitely not a reason to hate her.”

“Kinda sounds like you do, though.”

She shakes her head, feeling the sense of defeat sink into her bones. “I really don’t. She’s incredibly smart, and funny and beautiful … she honestly looks like she should be in a commercial for shampoo or something. She’s perfect for Jake, and I’m just …”

“You’re just … ?”

Shrugging, Amy slots her thumbnail into the edge of the coaster underneath her glass. It, like her heart, had seen better days, and it was time for her to cut her losses. “I’m just … going home.”

“What? No. Stay! Our squad kicked butt this week, Amy. We all deserve a drink.”

Painting another smile onto her face (she really is getting good at them), Amy pushes her seat away from the table, allowing herself one more glimpse at Jake’s smile before shaking her head at Terry. “Sorry sarge, I just can’t seem to celebrate tonight.”

Heading towards the exit without a second thought, Amy doesn’t see Jake pull away from Sophia, taking a half step in the direction of the door as he watches her leave. She doesn’t notice him pull out his phone, start to type a message before hesitating, pocketing it without hitting send. The night moves on as Amy walks away, and the streets are deafeningly silent as soon as the bar door closes behind her.

The sky seems to feel just as morose as Amy this evening, tiny droplets dropping onto her grey work blazer as she waits for a cab; too lost in her thoughts to take in the frivolity of a parting crowd. As the rain increases and the splotches on her blazer turn into tiny Rorschach Tests she decides to give herself one more night - one last night of wishing for things that will never be.

In the backseat on her ride home Amy twists her hands together, linking her fingers and imagining not for the first time that one hand was Jake’s (she would imagine similar .. later). She thinks of what it could be like to have his warm presence near hers .. to have his hand resting on her leg, not out of possession but just to be near. Watching him get out of the car first, only to turn and offer a helping hand for her exit, every time without fail.

She pictures what it would be like to feel the brick exterior of her apartment against her back as Jake presses his soft lips against hers, kissing the life out of her, making her see stars before pulling her into the apartment for so much more.

He wouldn’t always be the perfect partner - and lord knows, neither would she - but Amy knows that through it all he would remain her best friend, because even through all of this yo-yo pattern of denial and admittance, thats who Jake has been for her. After all these years, he’s become the only one she wants to talk to, at any given moment of the day, who knows her coffee order better than his own and remembers her Abuela’s birthday, even when she hasn’t mentioned it in weeks.

The scent of rain lingers in her apartment as Amy readies herself for bed, casting her pantsuit aside with drunken abandonment and giving her face a half-hearted wash before stumbling towards her bed. She closes her eyes, the thoughts of what could have been still so loud in her quiet apartment, hugging the pillow beside her tightly while her mind begins to wander.

As she finally drifts off to sleep that night, Amy tries not to remember the smile that Jake gave her as they danced so long ago at the community hall - that special kind of smile, that made her think that maybe it was solely for her - and tells herself once. and. for. all. that sometimes, life just doesn’t work out the way you’d hope.

* *

It’s a rush of cool air that alerts Amy to a brand new morning, the drop in temperature squashed as quickly as it arrives by the wrapping of a warm arm around her middle. She smiles into the pillow as it completes its protective loop, letting her body get pulled closer to the human hot water bottle in the middle of her bed, and if there was a better way to wake up on a cold day, Amy is yet to see it.

She lets out a sigh of comfort as the bridge of a prominent nose digs into her shoulder blade, feeling the warmth of his breath through her old academy shirt, nestling closer until her legs are well and truly tangled amongst his. It’s late, later than she would normally allow herself to sleep, but the two of them were far too invested in basking in the afterglow of a rainy Saturday filled with sex and movies to consider leaving the bedroom anytime soon.

Jake’s voice is rough, the remnants of a deep sleep obvious in his throat. “Today’s Sunday, right?”

Amy nods, wriggling herself just free enough to turn within her boyfriend’s embrace. His hair is sticking out on all ends - unaided, she is certain, by her hands the night before - and she runs the tip of her thumb along his right cheekbone. Though his eyes are still closed, he leans into her touch, and she grins. “Definitely Sunday. A rainy Sunday, but part of the weekend all the same.”

He nods, the short and prickly fibres of his morning stubble scratching her palm. “Good. More time for time machine building.”

“… we’re building a time machine?”

“Yeah, one that lets us skip past all the boring work stuff, and leaves us with all the time in the world for more of this. Kinda like that movie Click, but a lot less ‘trying to change the past’ stuff, and a lot more sex.”

She chuckles, and his left foot rubs along the side of her calf under the blanket. “You’re crazy, Peralta.” (Although, she will admit - the ‘a lot more sex’ part did sound kinda great.)

His eyelids flutter open, gaze growing soft as a smile stretches across his face. “You’re beautiful, Santiago.”

Amy feels her cheeks begin to heat up, resisting the urge to cool herself down by tucking her hair away, completely unable to move as long as Jake continues to look at her like that. There’s a pimple growing underneath the surface of her chin that is going to rival Mount Vesuvius, and her morning breath could probably wilt the flower pots living happily on her kitchen’s windowsill. But here, in bed with her boyfriend of almost two years, she feels more beautiful than all of her best days put together.

“I don’t think I’ve told you this today, but I love you, Jake.”

Leaning forwards, Jake’s soft lips press against Amy’s, and he winks as he pulls away. “I mean, we’ve both been awake for a sum total of three minutes, so yeah, you’re pretty late with the love you’s today, babe.”

Her free hand flies out from under the cover, delivering an indignant smack to Jake’s chest, and he grabs it back before she can pull away, linking their fingers together and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “I love you too, Ames. Even if you don’t want to build a time machine with me, I still love you.”

She laughs - a giggle that starts in her belly and bursts through her lungs, something that she’s been doing a lot more of these days - and pulls Jake in for a longer kiss, morning breath be damned.

One day, in eight or so years time, they’ll have a son - a miniature version of Jake that, much like his father, runs to the beat of his own drum; and answers to the name Mac. Amy will fall pregnant again, and when they explain to their son that he’s going to be a big brother, his response is so perfectly him that it makes Amy’s eyes tear up with laughter.

For they are, by Mac’s decree, now officially a Ninja Turtle family. He is Raphael (or ‘Rafel’), Jake Michelangelo due to his love of nunchaku, and Amy nabs Leonardo purely out of homage to one of her favourite artists. The mini-Peralta still growing in her womb is, by default, Donatello (or Donatella, depending), and even though there was a time when Amy truly felt like she could never be this lucky, she will love their little family with all of her heart.

But for now, she has Jake; and together they have warm bedsheets and no plans for a future that isn’t together - no matter what obstacles may be thrown their way.

And Amy realises, as Jake begins to trace a series of kisses along her side of her neck; truly, being loved by him is better than she could have ever imagined.

#it's all about the yearning #pining!Amy #fic prompts #has the ninja turtle family thing been done? I can't remember #b99 fanfic #peraltiago fanfiction #b99fic

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