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frostedfaves · 4 years

Text

Umbrella In the Rain

Pairing: Jake Peralta x fem!reader

Summary: Jake being a light in the dark for Reader.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: implied depression, mentions of trauma

A pen tapped lightly on the file in front of me. I looked up to see Rosa settling back into her chair with just a hint of concern resting on her features.

"What's up, Rosa?" I attempted a smile that didn't fully form.

"Are you okay? You look like Boyle when he dropped his sandwich earlier."

"Yeah, just got a little lost in thought there," I forced out a believable chuckle as she raised her eyebrows.

"For the fifth time today?" Her brows dropped again when I sighed. "Look, I'm not saying you have to talk to me or anything because you know I don't do feelings. But I am really good at listening to my friends. When I want to, that is."

This time a real smile broke out. "I know, thank you. I'm just having a bit of trouble concentrating today. I don't think it's anything to worry about."

She nodded and returned her attention to her computer as if the conversation never happened, my shoulders instantly relaxing. Truth be told, I was a little worried. To the outside world, I had no reason to feel like there was a weight on my shoulder. I had a great job working with some of my closest friends and things with Jake only got better with each passing day.

Lately I've been focusing on my past, things that not even Jake knows yet. Cuddling at night with Jake keeps the focus away from them in my dreams, but my conscious brain isn't as easily tricked. I have things I've held onto, things that hurt and only feel heavier when I add on the guilt of not being open with Jake about it. I don't feel that he'd ever leave me for experiencing trauma. If anything, he'd want to be there for me more. But I don't have the heart to invite anyone else to the arms of darkness that welcome me when I'm alone. Especially my ray of sunshine.

Jake was still on a stakeout with Charles by the time I left, so I decided to go to my apartment for the night, quickly texting him when I walked through the door.

I just got home. Please be safe tonight. I love you and I'll see you tomorrow.

Not even a minute later, I received a reply from him.

Sorry I have to work so late tonight, but I guess it's better that you get a break from me so you don't get sick of me! Love you, babe

I cleared the notification after plugging my phone in and turned on Do Not Disturb for the night. I contemplated going to at least make a sandwich for dinner, considering I hadn't eaten since breakfast with Jake. Five minutes later, I found myself in the bed instead, long t-shirt and underwear replacing my work clothes. I couldn't bring myself to care about eating, now that I was alone with so many thoughts.

My alarm went off the next morning, and it took all of my energy to force my eyes open and keep them open. After cutting the blaring sound short, I flipped over onto my back and stared into the ceiling for so long that I forgot why I was even awake. Shit, I have to work.

I picked up my phone again long enough to look at the time, fully aware that thirty minutes had passed. Groaning, I dropped it again as I settled back into the pillows, probably letting another ten minutes or more pass. Without even stopping to think about it, I picked up my phone again and constructed a text to Holt.

I feel awful and can't make it out of bed this morning. Think I should stay home for the day.

I paused with my finger over the send button, reading over the message a few times. Why was I lying to my boss? Just as I was about to erase the words, a little voice reminded me that my paperwork would still be there when I got to work tomorrow, and that I really needed to just lie down and forget the world for a day. So I watched the screen until 'Delivered' popped up, turning off my Do Not Disturb just in case he needed to reach me later. I instantly regretted it when my phone went off with three messages in a row minutes later from Holt, Rosa, and Jake.

Update me on your condition.

Sincerely,

Raymond Holt

Dude I know you're not sick. Am I gonna have to baton whack a confession out of you?

Hey, babe! Holt said you're sick :( Why didn't you tell me? Do you need me to bring anything later? Love you and get some rest!

I let the screen go dark again and turned my back to the phone, wrapping myself up into the covers now that I had no responsibility for the day. A few tears found their way across the bridge of my nose and onto my pillowcase. I simply closed my eyes and hummed 'Funky Cold Medina' to try and keep the incoming thoughts locked outside of my brain.

At some point, I opened my eyes again to the sun shining in a different part of the room. I quickly realized the sound of my apartment door opening woke me up when I heard Jake calling my name and his footsteps heading this way. I buried my face into the pillows and adjusted my breathing right before he gently opened the bedroom door.

"Babe?" I heard him walk around and felt the edge of the bed in front of me dip slightly. A light chuckle fell from his lips as he reached over to tuck some of my extremely ruffled hair behind my ear, rubbing my jawline just under there.

Eventually he stood again and left the room, returning seconds later and bringing a beautiful aroma with him of chicken and spices. I heard pen scratching paper for a second and felt the other side of the bed dip as he leaned over to place a kiss on my forehead.

When I was sure he left, I sat up and rolled over to see a to-go tub of vegetable soup and a box of what I could only guess to be chicken dumplings. My favorite meal from my favorite restaurant.

Before I could even understand why, I'd pulled my legs to my chest and buried my face into my knees as I sobbed louder and louder with each passing minute, not stopping until I was forced to in order to breathe. I gulped big mouthfuls of air, releasing them in rough, shuddering exhales as I attempted to stop the flow of tears with the collar of my t-shirt. I managed to breathe a little more calmly but the tears never stopped. I just let them go on and soak my pillows as I fell sideways onto the mattress.

Through a watery filter I caught a glimpse of the note Jake left. I stretched far enough to grasp the closest corner of the paper and yanked it onto the bed, inhaling deeply because somehow I could smell just a hint of his comforting cologne. I managed to hold in a fresh wave of tears just long enough to read his quickly scribbled words on the page.

Wasn't sure what kind of sick you were but I hope this food helps. I'll be back this evening to help you with whatever you need.

I'd barely reached the final word before I was sobbing again, clutching the note to my chest as my body shook and my heart ached. The more I cried, the more exhausted I felt, and the more I realized that there was no way in the world that I deserved someone like this.

I must've fallen asleep again, because I opened my eyes to a room that no longer held the sun, but a singular ball of light from a nearby lamp. I became aware of the note missing from my hands and Jake's arms around me. When I turned and pushed my face into his hoodie covered chest, he pushed back a little and tilted my face toward his.

I blinked in shock when I noticed his eyes, shining with just a hint of oncoming tears. Unknowingly, I raised my hand to his chest and grabbed a fistful of fabric out of fear.

"Are you okay?" My voice came out faintly and full of crackling from lack of use and the ghost of a smile fell upon his face.

"I should be asking you that," he whispered. He noticed my confused look and continued. "When I got back to work and everyone asked how you were, I told them that I wasn't really sure because you were knocked out when I brought the food. Rosa pulled me aside and told me that she didn't really think you were sick, and that there might be something else going on based on how you were acting before." I tried not to physically react as he searched my face for any signs of that being true. When I didn't give him anything to work with, he continued.

"As much as I didn't want you to be sick, I also didn't want to think that you were going through something alone, especially when I could be here helping you. But then I got here and the food is untouched and my note is soggy from tears and so is your shirt and you were sleeping again and I.."

I closed my eyes as he cut himself off, not wanting to see the tears that were building in his eyes again. Coward move as the one who caused them, but I felt too unstable to face the consequences.

"Baby, please look at me." I forced my eyes to open, nearly sighing in relief at the lack of tears on his cheeks. "Y/N, is there something going on with you? Is it me?"

There it was, my third breakdown of the day. Something about his uncertain tone and the near tears in his eyes were enough to make my own a reality. He coaxed me through it, rubbing my back and kissing my messed up hair as my body shook. He shushed me as I started to cough, reminding me that he was here and that it was okay, and that pulled me from his arms.

"It's not o-okay!" I pushed myself up into a sitting position, looking down at him and trying really hard not to whimper. "I'm pushing you away and all you do is help me anyway when you shouldn't because it's my fault in the first place and—" I cut myself off with a few hiccups and coughs, and he took the opportunity to sit up with me and place his hands on either side of my face.

"Listen to me, Y/N. I love you, okay? I don't care how much you push me away. You're clearly hurting and so I'm gonna be here to help you. I'm not going anywhere so please feel free to talk to me when you're ready."

I took a moment to just look at the man in front of me. I raised a hand and ran it through his curls, dragging the same hand down the side of his face and rested it on his shoulder. My opposite arm met the other one around his neck and tugged him slightly forward, squeezing him into a hug. His arms moved around my waist and rubbed my back as I placed my head on his shoulder. I took a deep breath and started to talk.

I didn't stop until I was done telling him about every violent moment of my childhood year by year and sometimes month by month, aware of his arms tightening around me slightly during certain parts. With each story I told him, I felt my shoulders practically lifting as the straps from my emotional baggage were removed and the weight dropped away. My lungs found it easier to process the air my mouth and nose forced into them, my hands loosening their grip on his hoodie as a sense of security wrapped around us both.

He never once interrupted, and when I finished, he pulled me into a different hold against his chest as he sank into the mattress. He whispered promises into my ear that I knew he'd keep, and I gave him words of trust with my safety in return, as well as assurance that I'd talk to him whenever I felt out of control again.

By the end of the night, Jake helped me find a therapist to call first thing in the morning because—despite his beliefs on therapy—he knew that relying solely on him for my happiness wasn't very healthy no matter how happy he made me. I needed someone who knew more to help me process my emotions so that I wouldn't have such a struggle sharing my mind with him.

I sat there looking into his eyes as I ran my thumb over his jaw, telling him I loved him repeatedly. I wanted to shout it until my throat burned from the force. To make him feel the warmth he sent from the ends of my hair to the tips of my toes every time he was simply there. To be as useful to him as he was to me. To be his umbrella in the rain. He told me that I always was from the moment we met. That he couldn't even see the rain when I was around. I was everything to him, even when I felt like nothing.

Hearing those words filled me like a soothing tea stirred with honey. With his arms around me creating the warmth that kept me sane, I couldn't see the rain either.

#jake peralta imagine #jake peralta x fem!reader #jake peralta x reader #jake peralta #rosa diaz #raymond holt #b99 x reader #brooklyn nine nine imagine #brooklyn 99 #brooklyn nine nine #b99 imagine #b99 fic #b99 fanfic #brooklyn nine nine x reader

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rose-sunlight · 4 years

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Can You See The Sparks?

Pairings: Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago, Ray Holt/Kevin Cozner, Charles Boyle/Genevieve Mirren-Carter, Sharon Jeffords/Terry Jeffords

Warnings: One mention of childbirth (non-graphic)

Summary: The Squad get together for a Fourth of July party!

A/n: This is for the @b99fandomevents Summer 2020 Fic Exchange written for @impossiblyizzy! Hope you enjoy!

One thing that Jake had never known throughout his years of knowing Captain Holt and his husband: they had the biggest back yard he’d ever seen growing up in the rough parts of Brooklyn. They had a large brick patio, and their garden was surrounded by a stereotypical white picket fence. The grass was perfectly watered, and Jake knew that Kevin had probably calculated the exact amount of water his grass needed to get that specific shade of green, Jake wouldn’t expect anything less.

Upon seeing their yard for the first time in daylight, he’d immediately suggested a Fourth of July party around their house. What with the arrival of the latest Nine-Nine baby, Mac, Amy was desperate to get out of the house, meaning their tradition of going to the Peralta-Santiago household would have to be put on hold so the new parents could finally feel more—well, human.

It wasn’t that Amy didn’t want to host, Amy loved hosting parties and conversing with her colleagues, but when she had a screaming baby attached to her, wailing because the noise, or the lack of his father by their side (yes, Mac had turned into a daddy’s boy), or the lack of food being delivered directly to him. When Holt and Kevin had agreed to his suggestion, and invites had been given to the squad and their families, he could feel Amy’s tension around the holiday ease and evaporate, even after Mac had thrown up on her uniform before she left for work.

So, here they were, on the Fourth of July, surrounded by the Squad, their family members, and pets. Although most dogs had been left at home (Charles and Genevieve could not bring their six dogs through Kevin’s freshly vacuumed house). Diaz had however fought to bring Arlo, considering him as her plus one as she had no family members coming. So, on their perfect green grass that had probably cut with nail clippers, Cheddar chased after Arlo, brushing past the legs of Terry and his wife, arms slung around each other as they watched the twins and Ava play tag with Nikolaj and Iggy.

The kids careered around a large oak tree at the back of the garden, spinning around as they laughed, running back towards where Charles and Genevieve manned the barbeque, all different assortments of traditional American foods sizzling on the grill. That wasn’t all, though, as Kevin was cooking pizzas and making potato salad, cakes, casseroles and more. Kevin worked side-by-side in a comfortable silence with Rosa as she made cocktails for the adults.

“Can you pass the potatoes?” Kevin asked, quietly and without small talk. He was observant, and throughout their years of small conversations, Kevin knew all too well that Rosa hated small talk.

She passed them wordlessly, watching him as he began to chop them up for the potato salad.

Rosa hovered as she went to pick up the cocktails, turning to Kevin once more, “What made you change your mind about us?” She asked, “I mean, you hate cops.” Her mannerisms were blunt, Kevin knew she wasn’t trying to offend; she was just a very direct person, and he respected that more than he did others. He did, however, had to think about her question.

When did he start to trust his husbands co-workers? “I don’t hate the individuals. I dislike some aspects and prejudices in the system, yes, but I never hated anyone.”

“Oh.”

“If I had to pinpoint the moment my feelings around the nine-nine changed, it would be mine and Raymond’s anniversary, when Charles taught him how to cook. It was quite memorable.”

Rosa nodded “Oh,” She said again, unsure how to either end the conversation or continue it “well, I am…glad you don’t. Like, hate us, anymore.” She responded in her most sincere voice.

Kevin nodded towards the drinks on the side “Those cocktails can go on the table outside. Use coasters, though, please.”

Rosa nodded, leaving their kitchen and passing the living room, where Amy and Jake were sat with Holt, Gina, Scully and Hitchcock. Surprisingly, through the first few months of Mac’s life, Hitchcock and Scully had been surprisingly attentive towards Mac and Amy. Jake would never admit it, but Scully was responsible when it came to children, and he did feel bad that his two kids refused to talk to him since they had grown up.

Mac sat with wide eyes searching around the room, looking up at his grandpa Ray, who was bouncing him on his lap. Amy didn’t think she’d ever seen her Captain so relaxed and smiling, cooing down at the baby occasionally in between leisurely conversations with the small gathering sitting in his living room. Granted, his kind of cooing was a lot more observant than most, saying things like “did you know you have the perfect weight for your age right now? Yes, you do, McClane, you’re perfect!”. Holt and Kevin were the only ones who would call Mac by his full name, which made it personal to his grandpa and grandad (because if we don’t have separate names, Jake, how will he call for us individually?).

The food began to pile high on the outside table, and soon enough, everyone was called to eat. Specifically for this gathering, Kevin had brought a smaller table for the kids to eat at, and was enjoying watching all the kids have their own conversations at the table, most lead and dominated by Iggy, whose presence was as infectious as her mothers, who was also leading the conversation at the adults table. Kevin looked down towards Mac, who had been passed to him now, and adjusted the baby so he was more upright on Kevin’s knee, his arm wrapped around Mac’s torso protectively. Kevin smiled at the thought of Mac joining the kids table in a few years, and smiled even larger at being able to watch him grow. Raymond offered him the bowl of salad he had prepared previously, knowing he wouldn’t eat the burgers or anything that greasy. He gratefully accepted, and settled into a cycle of eating his food then paying attention to Mac.

“Oh, wait, it’s nearly seven, we need to be at the field at nine p.m.,” Amy said, nervously checking her watch

Charles, ever the time-sensitive character, began to sweat and fidget in his chair, eating his burger as quick as possible—he had wanted some more unique 4th of July food to be served, but Holt had restricted him to strictly traditional meats, “oh, uhm, it’s fine, if we leave now, we can probably make the end, right?” He turned to his partner, who took his hand and calmed him down.

Gina groaned, “Oh my god, you guys, don’t get your panties in a twist. We’ll be fine, if we’re late we can commandeer a bus or something.”

“How long does it take to get to the park?” Amy ignored Gina and directed her question to Kevin, her eyebrows furrowed.

Kevin checked his own watch “Only a seventeen minute walk. We’ll be fine, Amy.” His voice was reassuring, and so she relaxed, nodding happily. When it was time to go, Holt disappeared into their back room, digging through the things he had brought for the kids, and reaching the best fourth of July tradition—sparklers. He handed them out to the kids (with parental consent, of course,) and watched them happily hold the unlit sticks as Kevin went around and lit them.

Cagney and Lacey began to act out a wand battle worthy of being in Harry Potter, crying out curses that made Jake start to laugh too, practically begging Amy for a sparkler too. She nodded with a laugh, and watched him childishly join in with the twins in their battle.

Nikolaj and Ava, despite their five-year age gap, wrote each other’s names with the sparklers, and then began to circle and dance with the sparks, all the time being warned to be careful by their dads. Iggy was in her own world, twirling around like a princess, dancing with her sparkler like she was a ballerina preforming for the masses.

Mac watched all the pretty lights from his stroller, making grabbing gestures and watching his dad dancing around with Cagney and Lacey. Amy noticed, when she checked on him for the fifteenth time, that he was laughing, full on laughing, for the first time. His giggles were indistinguishable from those of the other kids, but she started cooing, and Mac laughed harder, looking at his dad dancing around.

“Jake!” She called out to her husband, who span around “Jake! Jake! Look, he’s laughing!” She excitedly informed him, and Jake looked to Mac, and felt his heart burst. His son was laughing at him. He’d smiled before, but at four months old, he was uncontrollably giggling.

Uncle Charles appeared, phone in hand, “Ohh! I captured the moment, Jakey, don’t worry!” He patted Jake on the back

“Thanks, Charles.”

The group set off walking to the park, the kids taking turns pushing Mac’s stroller, giving Amy and Jake a break, even if they had to make sure the stroller wouldn’t capsize.

Amy was talking with Sharon, who, throughout her journey into motherhood, had been a source of comfort. They often bonded over their experience of labour at the precinct, too, even if Sharon didn’t have to give birth there.

“You’re doing good,” Sharon reassured her, “when we had our first babies, we had almost no clue what to do. You’ve either done your research or are a complete natural.”

Gina nodded, the one and only time a compliment regarding Amy had ever slipped from her lips “Yeah, I mean, when Iggy was Mac’s age I was neck-deep in barf and decaf coffee.”

Amy blushed; compliments on her parenting had become the most gratifying thing to hear (other than ‘don’t worry, I’ll feed him this time’, of course). She found herself a little lost for words, but regained them fairly quickly “Well, I had younger brothers and little nieces and nephews growing up. And I read almost every book there was on…everything. Wasn’t prepared for birth, though.”

Sharon and Gina both winced “Yeah, they don’t put that in the lovey-dovey books, do they? If they did, I don’t think a single woman would want to go through that.” Sharon said

Amy could only laugh her agreement, hoping that the word ‘episiotomy’ would fall out of her memory and vocabulary one day.

When they arrived at the fireworks, the carnival was already in full swing. Terry had been bribed by all three daughter’s pleading eyes, and so far, all three had won a teddy bear (the biggest from the surprisingly easy strength test), and Terry was out a good twenty-five dollars on games and fair-rides. Gina probably had lost the same amount, although she had spent everything on the rides; Iggy never really wanted anything from the games booths, which must be a first for any child ever, Gina had tried to convince them. Charles was out much more, and Nikolaj was now a proud owner of a tiger, teddy bear, and a DIY crystal kit. He’d also been on every ride conceivable with his parents, and was currently sharing a huge wad of cotton candy three-ways.

Holt and Kevin watched as the kids came up to them after every win, proudly displaying their new item for the pair to hold while they went off to do another ride. Holt would smile, and actually mean it. After Ava dropped off her final win, a mock-forensics kit, she turned to sit in between the two of them.

“I want to be like you and daddy, Uncle Ray!” She had told him (Ava called them Uncle Ray and Uncle Kevin, because grandpa never felt right for the Jeffords family), and Holt had wrapped his arm around her and let her snuggle in close—for warmth only, he was sure.

“Really? Well, I have a few friends at the academy, Ava, I will make sure that they have a spot open for the class of twenty-thirty-six.” He said it deadpan, as he often did, but Kevin knew there was a touch of sincerity to his promise too.

“Promise?” Ava had asked, extending a gloved finger.

Holt looked at his husband, who was smiling back “Oh, I suppose I do promise.” He said, shaking her pinkie finger with his. She skipped off to tell her dad, leaving the couple alone.

Kevin laughed as Terry listened intently to Ava relaying the story, before looking to Raymond “Do you ever think about how we have managed to adopt a fully-fledged, albeit slightly delayed, adult, and somehow become entwined in others’ lives, so much so that we are now uncles and grandparents?” He asked.

Raymond pondered for a second, watching the separate families “yes, it is odd.”

“Do you ever regret not having kids….adopting them?”

“It was never allowed when we were in our prime.”

Kevin nodded, looking towards where Ray was staring Jake, grabbing Amy by the waist and kissing her softly, while still keeping one hand on the stroller, “I know. I just sometimes wonder how it would be different.”

“I do too. But, although we are late, I do think of Peralta like a son. We’ve watched him grow over these few years, from a childish boy to a grown, responsible man with a family. Who is still a childish thorn in my side, if I am honest. I think that describes having a child perfectly; watching them grow.” Raymond seemed sentimental—to anyone else, his voice remained unwavering, but to Kevin, he could sense the fondness, the same fondness that he himself carried.

“I would not change it, either.”

“I know you wouldn’t. He’s strangely ours.”

Nikolaj came running up to them, barrelling into their conversation with brazen confidence, the same type his father and mother had, “Mister Kevin! Mister Raymond! The fireworks are going to start!” He had run off as soon as he had arrived. He never called them uncle or grandpa, but that was okay, because Kevin and Holt both knew he had issues with attaching himself to others due to his past. They never asked it of him, anyway. Kevin stood up, dusting off his pants, and began to grab the various toys left with them, before parents came to try and help them out.

The squad and their families all huddled in a muddy and cold field, making sure they didn’t lose anyone in the massive crowd forming, most kids sitting on the shoulders of adults. Jake had Iggy on his, who was pulling his hair softly to direct him on where to go, all the time giggling as he obliged to her requests, before standing next to Amy.

The display was amazing, colours of red, white and blue flashing across the starry night sky canvas, painting it in different colours before sharply dissipating. The crowd would let out ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ every time something vaguely interesting happened, and Jake couldn’t help but join in, looking to Amy, whose face was perfectly illuminated in a glowing bright light. He squeezed Iggy’s hand, yelling up to her.

“Can you see the sparks, Iggy?” He was looking at Amy, who had rolled her eyes at the cheesy joke, but for Iggy the meaning was the fireworks, obviously.

“Yeah, Uncle Jake!”

Amy wrapped a hand around his waist, allowing herself to be embraced, dodging Iggy’s leg as it swung in the air “Eyes on the fireworks, Peralta.”

Jake leaned into her touch, “Baby, you’re a firework. Katy Perry, she’s always right.” Amy giggled, but it was drowned out by another loud boom. Mac had big ear protectors on, but his eyes still flickered across the sky. Amy’s heart swelled again, her family surrounding her as the fireworks spurred on.

She was so glad that they were invited to Holt and Kevin’s. This was just perfect.

Little did they know, Holt and Kevin had already decided between themselves to make this a tradition to carry on for decades.

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#brooklyn nine nine #peraltiago #ray holt #jake x amy #jake peralta #amy santiago #peraltiago fanfiction #peraltiago fanfic #b99 summer 2020 fic exchange #b99fandomevents

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mystery-deer · 4 years

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I have this vision of them on their first tropical holiday and kevin is trying to read a book with his feet in the pool but he can’t focus because he’s never seen Raymond swim before and he looks so majestic and his skin is glistening and he’s in love

Kevin thumbed through a book which he’d brought from home and at the time had sparked a singular interest but he now found himself struggling to immerse himself in.

It was sunny here, and he wasn’t used to reading anywhere except his home or his office when needs be. Gone were the days of his youth where anywhere he had a book could become a perfect spot to read (though he was glad that particular phase had passed, he had once became so enraptured in a plot that he’d fallen from the branch he’d sat himself on and broken his arm. To this day he couldn’t read Rosseau’s Confessions without that ache returning).He had anticipated the weather and brought his sunglasses (and Raymond had been quite insistent on lathering his back and face with sunscreen) but the reality of the situation was that there were too many factors competing for his attention to focus on any one alone.

Or, so he thought. But just as he was about to give up his endeavors he heard the unmistakable sound of Raymond’s footsteps and shortly after found himself in shadow. He looked up to see his boyfriend’s face peering down at him, expression curious. Kevin smiled softly without realizing.

“Can I help you?” He asked warmly.

“No.” Raymond said, then, thinking he may have sounded harsh (though Kevin had never thought him to be to worry was there) “I don’t require assistance at the moment but thank you for offering.”

Kevin opened his mouth to speak but Raymond had apparently registered his original meaning and responded again quickly.“I was curious as to what you were reading but people have expressed an annoyance with being asked. So as not to annoy you I was attempting to discern the title myself.”

“I could never think you annoying Raymond.” Raymond privately thought that this was untrue and everyone he’d come across found him annoying in one sense or another. He even more privately clung to the compliment and tucked it close to heart.

“I’m reading ‘Maurice’ so as to compare it to ‘The Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man.’ I’ve had this one recommended to me to put in conversation with the latter and I so far I can see why.”

“Ah.” Nodded Raymond, and then said in a quoting voice. “He wanted to cry quietly but not for himself: for the words, so beautiful and sad, like music.” Kevin swooned, he blinked slowly. Raymond could see this affection written plainly on his face.

“It reminds me of you.” He clarified and Kevin made a noise of agreement.

“I understand.”

They stayed like that for a moment before they both in tandem realized how ridiculous they looked and Raymond moved to sit down beside him. They read aloud and analyzed some passages in the book, Raymond helping immensely before yawning and blaming the heat for tiring him.

“Perhaps you should take a swim.” Kevin suggested, now half-distracted by the book which a few minutes earlier had failed to be more than anything but dull words on old paper to him.

“Yes, I think I will.” And without further ado there was a gentle splash and the sound of water moving as he began to swim.

Kevin continued reading for awhile longer before fully realizing that anything had changed. ‘Awhile’ was as long as it took for Raymond to do a lap - when he reached Kevin’s side of the pool again he felt a disturbance in the water from his feet and looked up to see the cause.

The cause was the most beautiful man he’d ever laid eyes on.

He’d never seen Raymond swim before. In New York the only places to swim were gyms or filthy beaches and Kevin didn’t trust either to be clean enough. There was also the issue of other people which he was eager to avoid as much as possible especially when he was in a swimming suit. (He refused to call it a ‘bathing suit’. He was not bathing. No one was bathing.)

His boyfriend had once asked if he would join him in something called a polar swim or something along those lines and he’d expressed his firm disinterest in the frankly hellish sounding activity.

Maybe next time he would at least come to watch. Fully dressed of course.

Raymond looked…well he always looked …. but this was - a new…His skin glistened.The man was glowing.

Noticing that he had Kevin’s attention (now from the other side of the pool) Holt grinned, a rare occurrence that his boyfriend savoured whenever they were alone. His face lit up, sun casting him in a heavenly glow as he waved.

Kevin wished, all at once, that he was a writer of prose. That he could put everything he felt into words and hand it to the man he loved in a neat, sensible font for him to read over and internalize.

As it stood he could only smile softly and wave back before gesturing for him to come hither.Raymond nodded and ducked under the water, popping up already halfway back to him. Kevin’s heart began to pound as he set aside his book and waited impatiently for him.

He swam up between Kevin’s legs, resting his arms on the pool’s edge. His curls were dripping with water that they didn’t absorb and his breath was slightly affected from the exercise. Then he smiled again, curious and playful.

Kevin leaned down and kissed him. He tasted like chlorine and it was the best thing that had ever touched his tongue.

“He turned to appease the fierce longings of his heart before which everything else was idle and alien.” - James Joyce, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

#this captured my fancy #Q&A #anon #my writing #aa is there anything better than love and summer??

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thepurplebutterflythings · 4 years

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Blind Date (Part 2 of 3) - Jake Peralta

Gif: brooklynninenine on Tenor

Word Count: 2.5K

Paring: Jake Peralta x (f)Reader

Summary: Y/N serves her mother and her co-worker, the infamous Raymond. The Squad meets Y/N

Warnings: N/A

A/N: I ADORE Jake and Amy as a couple, but, obviously, in this they aren’t together.

Masterlist

Requested: Anon

________________________________________________________________

‘Isn’t your mother in tonight?’ James, the bartender, said as he polished the glasses for the night. Y/N groaned and let her head fall into her hands.

‘Don’t remind me,’ she huffed, ‘any chance you’ll give me a shot or two?’

‘Don’t think Harold would approve now, do you?’ James chuckled, grabbing the tequila anyways, pouring two out, one for her and one for him, sliding one across the bar.

‘Well, if his mother was succubus, he’d be hitting the bottle right now too.’

‘Have you checked the reservations to see when she’ll be in?’

‘I don’t need to – I’ll feel a disturbance in the force,’ Y/N sighed handing the shot glass back to James. James shot her a look. ‘She always comes in at the same time. It hasn’t changed for years, James. Mother will be here at eight on the dot – wearing her uniform, no doubt, hat under the arm indoors as it’s always rude to wear a hat inside.’

‘I do not envy you tonight.’

‘Thanks, James,’ Y/N scoffed as she got to her feet and walked to the kitchen to grab her apron to start her shift.

________________________________________________________________

Eight on the dot, and Y/N was right. As she collected someone’s drink from James, Y/N looked to the door and saw Wuntch standing and waiting with her hat under her arm, wearing her neatly pressed uniform and a proud look on her face. Y/N knew that the prideful look wasn’t because she was looking at her successful daughter, but because other customers were looking at Madeline in awe.

‘Told you,’ Y/N said quietly to James before giving the customer their drink. Y/N knew not to approach her mother until her fellow worker came, and Y/N would be able to tell who they were. Almost always the fellow diner was wearing their uniform as well. By order of her mother? Perhaps. It wasn’t as though Y/N could ask. She just presumed.

Soon after, Y/N saw a man enter. Relatively taller than her mother and very little hair on his head. The hair that was visible was a salt and pepper type, skin close and in the position from changing to the black from youth to the grey of aging. He also wore a crisp pressed uniform, but his was of a Captain. Y/N knew the difference. That was the que, Y/N plastered a fake smile on her face and walked towards her mother and the Captain.

‘Madame, Sir,’ Y/N nodded politely, ‘Welcome to Masa, shall I show you to your table?’

‘Yes,’ Wuntch nodded firmly.

As her mother and the man sat down, Y/N handed them their menus.

‘So, Madeline,’ The man said, ‘what made you choose food and not some poor unsuspecting soul to drain the blood from?’

Y/N bit down on her tongue to stop herself from laughing.

‘Oh, Raymond,’ Wuntch said. Y/N controlled her reaction. This was the infamous Raymond that her mother despised so much. He wasn’t anything like Y/N had imagined. ‘I thought that you would be the vampire out of the two of us, after all, you’re so close to dust now, aren’t you?’

‘Well,’ Y/N said in a chirpy voice that servers had to use, ‘I’ll leave you for a minute to look over the menus.’ She said before walking off and approaching James with large eyes before leaning over the bar. ‘That guy is Raymond!’

‘THAT’S the guy your mum hates?’ James said, eyes bulging, peering around Y/N to look at the man. ‘Why’d I imagine him taller?’

‘Forget that – why’d she bring him here?’ Y/N whispered. ‘She’s spent her whole career hiding me and now she risks that with bring her mortal enemy here?’

‘Well, you take more after your pa than mummy dearest.’

‘Still.’

‘I don’t know.’ James shrugged. ‘Maybe she’s getting sloppy.’

________________________________________________________________

All night, Y/N grinned and bared it her mother, and it seemed that Raymond was doing the same. Every time that Y/N approached their table, Raymond looked as though he’d find it more pleasurable to shoot himself in the foot. She had to fight the urge to give him a sympathetic smile. The more she witnessed, the more Y/N realised that Raymond wasn’t the villain that her mother acted he was. He was just a poor guy who was stuck dealing with Madeline Wuntch.

‘I sincerely hope that you found your meals and drinks enjoyable,’ Y/N said sweetly, ‘if you want desert, I shall be more than happy to get you the menus, if not would you like me to get the check?’

‘Just the check, please,’ Raymond spoke quickly, ‘I must be getting home to my husband.’

‘Of course, Sir,’ Y/N nodded, ‘I will go get the check,’ she said before turning to Wuntch and bowing her head, ‘Madame.’ She then went to get the check, returning not even a minute later, placing it on the table, dead centre. This way, Y/N had learnt, the customers can decide who is buying without the server getting caught up in the hassle.

‘Thank you,’ Wuntch gave a tight lipped smile before grabbing the check and looking over the price. ‘Give the chef my compliments, waitress.’

Y/N bit down the inside of her lip. It infuriated her to no end that her mother kept calling her ‘waitress’ when, officially, she was a server. There was a difference. Her manager had warned her of that when she applied for the job. You weren’t a waitress, you were a server – you served an experience. You had to know your wines, your oysters, your spices and herbs, you had to know culture and art and history and literature. It was years for some before they get their stripes and were servers instead of trainees. And her mother stuck up her nose and discredited all the work and effort Y/N had put into the years of working at Masa.

‘Madeline, do not discredit the server,’ Raymond tutted, catching both mother and daughter off guard, making them turn and look at the man. ‘A waitress and a server are very different. I dated a man who worked at a high-end place such as Masa,’ he explained to Y/N, ‘the amount of effort needed for the work and training you have to do before you earn your stripes is commendable,’ he told her.

‘Thank you, sir,’ Y/N, for the first time all night, broke out in a genuine smile. ‘It’s a lot of work, but work I am happy to do, for I love my job.’

‘Please, call me Raymond,’ he said, ‘perhaps Kevin and I shall come here for our anniversary this year,’ he commented absently.

‘Here,’ Wuntch said, snatching Y/N’s attention and thrusting the check back into her hands with the money. ‘Raymond,’ Wuntch nodded before getting up and leaving. Y/N rolled her eyes as she watched her mother walk from the building. She sighed and counted the money. Cost for the meals, the wine, and a tip. Y/N frowned as she looked at the tip, less than 1%. Typical mother, she thought.

‘Is all the money there?’ Raymond asked curiously, seeing her face.

‘Yes,’ Y/N assured him, ‘apologies, Raymond, I didn’t mean to alarm you.’

‘No, no, it is more than alright,’ Raymond said, ‘tell me, what made you so troubled?’

‘I shouldn’t say, really.’

‘Now, would I have asked if I did not want to know?’ He insisted.

‘She tipped less than 1%.’

‘I am incredibly sorry, Miss, you deserve far more than that,’ Raymond said as he pulled his own wallet out, grabbing a handful of notes and gave them to her.

‘Oh, no, no, no, I couldn’t,’ she said, ‘I wasn’t trying to get more.’

‘Please, I insist,’ Raymond said, ‘after all, I know Madeline has bought a lot of unfortunate victims to Masa in the past, so I presume you have had the poor luck to deal with the she-devil before.’

‘We have a saying when she comes in,’ Y/N chuckled as she hesitantly took the cash from him, ‘Watch out, watch out, the Wuntch is about!’

Raymond unleashed a giddy laugh, throwing his head back and revealing perfectly white teeth to all around him.

‘Oh, I like that!’ He declared, ‘would you mind if I use that?’

‘Go ahead, sir.’

‘Raymond,’ he corrected kindly.

‘Go ahead, Raymond.’

________________________________________________________________

‘Oh, are you sure they want to meet me?’ Y/N asked Jake hesitantly as the elevator took them to the second floor. Today was the day that she was to meet his co-workers, the 99. Y/N was beyond nervous at this point. She knew Gina, yes, but if the rest of the squad didn’t like her, then what did that mean for their relationship, for they were like a family.

‘They’re dying to meet you,’ Jake assured her, ‘and they’re going to love you.’

‘I hope so,’ Y/N mumbled as the doors opened to reveal the bullpen. There stood two women Y/N had never met before next to Gina, who gave her a comforting smile and wave, and two other men, one large like a gladiator, the other stocky with a uncontrollable grin.

‘Guys,’ Jake smiled as he and she stepped from the elevator and into the bullpen. ‘This is Y/N, my girlfriend. Y/N, this is the 99.’

‘Hello,’ Y/N waved awkwardly.

‘Hi, I’m Terry,’ the gladiator man nodded formally.

‘I’m Charles, and I’m thrilled to meet you.’

‘Rosa.’

‘And I’m Amy, and I want to meet the woman who’s managed to get Jake to stop having a can of spray cheese as his lunch.’

‘Well, here I am, and I hope I don’t disappoint.’

‘Where’s Captain Holt?’ Jake asked, looking around.

‘Why?’ Amy smirked playfully, ‘Want daddy’s approval?’

‘What? No!’ Jake scoffed dramatically, looking around for his captain. ‘But, where is he?’

‘Office,’ Terry said, gesturing behind him to the closed door. ‘He should be nearly done. He’s on the phone with One Police Plaza.’

As soon as Terry finished his sentence, Captain Holt’s door opened and outstepped the man himself. Captain Holt. Y/N looked to see that it was Raymond, from Masa, from dinning with her mother. Her mother’s worst enemy. She was dating the protégé of her mother’s worst enemy. Y/N gulped as Holt walked over and smiled friendly at her.

‘Hello again,’ Holt nodded in greeting.

‘So, is it Raymond, or Captain?’

‘Raymond.’

‘You’ve met?’

‘Yes. Raymond has dinned at Masa.’

‘She’s a wonderful server.’

‘Always nice to hear!’

________________________________________________________________

They sat in the break room as they all chatted away. Raymond hadn’t brought up Madeline Wuntch, and it didn’t seem like he would, so Y/N could breathe easier. She stopped tensing and just relaxed as her and the squad talked. It was nice.

‘Captain?’ said a large, older man coming into the room. ‘Wuntch is here.’

‘Wuntch?’ Y/N gulped. Oh, no, no, no, no. Her mother? It had to be. There was no other Wuntch she knew of.

‘Thank you, Scully,’ Raymond said getting to his feet and straightening his tie. Raymond gave a small quirk of the lip, ‘Watch out, watch out, the Wuntch is about.’

‘Clever,’ Rosa snorted in amusement.

‘It is Y/N’s rhyme. She has had the misfortune of serving Madeline,’ he said before strolling from the room.

‘You know Madeline Wuntch?’ Jake asked with a frown.

‘Jake, Wuntch cannot see me here, trust me!’ Y/N said, ignoring the question and confusion. The rest of the squad frowned and looked at each other in confusion as well. ‘Please!’

‘Alright, alright,’ he nodded, ‘let’s sneak you out of here.’

Everyone got to their feet and Jake gestured to Rosa to hand her leather jacket over, which she did. Amy and Rosa walked out and stood by Holt to keep Wuntch’s attention while Jake hid Y/N beneath the jacket and had Terry and Charles try and hide her hidden form behind their bodies. With slow steps, Y/N followed Jake, holding his hand. She heard her mother talk to Holt – they whipped insult after insult at each other. Y/N was so close to the gate but then she heard Wuntch.

‘And what is your little understudy hiding beneath Detective Diaz’s jacket?’ She said. Y/N gulped, hearing her mother’s shoes approach. She felt the woman’s hand on the jacket and pull it off, revealing Y/N to Madeline. Madeline stared at her daughter in shock, mouth hanging open. ‘Y/N?’ She blinked at the sight of Y/N standing in the 99.

‘So you know the poor girl’s name?’ Holt scoffed, ‘you just loved calling her ‘waitress’ when at Masa. Everyone always talks about how you have the same server and cannot even be bothered to learn her name, and yet, you know it – you just choose not to use it.’

‘Wait, you serve Wuntch at Masa?’ Jake looked at Y/N. ‘All the time?’

‘Yes.’

‘But you said the only person you serve repeatedly is your mother,’ Jake said. Y/N closed her eyes, wanting to disappear as she felt Jake next to her put two and two together. ‘Wuntch is your mother.’

Y/N opened her eyes and looked Madeline in the eyes. Madeline stared back.

‘Unfortunately so,’ she said. Madeline’s face noticeably changed in shock.

‘Madeline,’ Holt tutted as he walked over, hands behind his back, ‘did you send your daughter as a honeypot for my best detective?’

‘Please,’ Y/N scoffed, ‘she’d never dream of it, cause then she’d have to admit that she had a daughter.’

‘Excuse me?’ Madeline scowled.

‘Come on, you cancel on me all the time, only use me for seats at Masa, never refer to me by name when there, you can’t even be bothered to take your eyes off your damn paperwork when we’re in the same room.’ Y/N listed, ‘you’re ashamed of me, just say it. You always have been – you gave me to Dad the moment I popped out the womb, didn’t you? Hardly came for Birthdays, never sent me a Christmas card. I don’t exist to you.’

‘Maybe I hid you because I feared my rivals would use you against me.’

‘Bullshit,’ Y/N huffed, ‘your feud with Raymond always meant more to you than I ever did.’

Madeline still stared at her daughter, flames in her eyes. Y/N had disobeyed and made herself known, even if it was against her will, and, on top of that, she was dating a detective.

‘Y/N!’

‘Look, Mother,’ Y/N sighed, ‘I don’t care. I don’t care if you hate Jake, cause I love him. I don’t care if you’re ashamed of me, cause my life doesn’t revolve around your approval. I don’t care. I’m done. Just leave me alone,’ she said before turning on her heel and closing the elevator behind her, leaving the building.

‘Madeline…’

‘Leave it, Raymond.’

‘What do you think I’m going to say?’

‘That I am a terrible mother,’ Madeline said with a cracking voice, still looking at the elevator her daughter disappeared to.

‘I was actually going to ask why you hid her.’

‘I didn’t know what to do,’ she confessed, turning to face Raymond and the others. ‘I never planned to be a mother, I don’t know how to love my daughter. It’s difficult for me.’

‘Well, she is a lovely young woman.’

‘In spite of me,’ Madeline chuckled darkly as she wiped a stray tear away. ‘She became all that she is without me.’

‘Why’d you treat her like that?’ Jake asked.

‘I thought she was so much better off without me, that it is easier to have her hate me than love me.’

#jake peralta #jake peralta imagine #jake peralta one shot #jake peralta fan fiction #detective jake peralta #detective jake peralta imagine #detective jake peralta one shot #brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn nine nine imagine #brooklyn nine nine one shot #brooklyn nine nine fanfiction #imagine #imagines #fanfiction #fan fiction #one shot #fan fic #fanfic #oneshot

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vernonfielding · 5 years

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Life Writes Its Own Stories

Welcome to my obsession! An Amy/Jake newspaper AU: Amy Santiago is a Brooklyn crime reporter eager to break the big story. Jake Peralta is a cynical NYPD detective who trusts no one. If they can get over themselves, they may figure out they’re on the same side.

AN: I am incredibly grateful to the amazing @fezzle for her help with this story: as a beta, a cheerleader, a title-brainstormer and a friend. She offered invaluable feedback that changed the whole tenor of this story, in a way that I think made it so much better. I am so lucky to have found her.

A note to readers wary of multi-chapter fics: This story is complete. I will be posting updates every couple of days, unless I get hit by a bus or something, in which case @fezzle has permission to post for me.

And now, onto Chapter 1 of 15! (You can read at AO3 too.)

Chapter 1

Amy took the subway stairs two at a time and sprinted into the bright morning sunshine, slowing down just enough to glance down at the cell phone in her hand and check the time. She was already one minute late.

“Damnit,” Amy said under her breath and picked up her speed again, waving over her shoulder at the taxi that honked when she darted through the traffic on Bergen. She took the turn onto 6th Avenue so fast that she had to flail her arms to keep her balance, then she put her head down and raced. She ran right up to the front entrance of the 99th Precinct and slammed to a stop, gasping for breath.

“Press conference is delayed,” said the cameraman standing beside her. “Nice day, huh?”

Amy glared at him and he laughed. It was approaching triple digits and the humidity was well over 80 percent and she could feel sweat pooling in her lower back and under her breasts. She plucked at the front of her blouse where it was stuck to her chest. At least she wasn’t late.

The other reporters were spread out in a loose ring around the front of the precinct, most of their faces familiar to Amy. There were three TV journalists, a couple of radio folks, the guy from the online newsletter who was at literally every event in Brooklyn – Amy could never tell how he managed it – and, to her surprise and displeasure, reporters from The Times and the Daily News. And she’d thought her day was already a mess – now this story was competitive.

Amy undid her ponytail and tied her hair into a slightly more secure bun, glad to get a little more air on her neck. She took out her phone again and opened the voice recording app, then pulled out her notebook and her favorite pen and her two backup pens, which she shoved into the pocket of her skirt. She was just checking her email when the precinct doors swung open and Captain Pembroke stepped out, followed closely by Scully and a handful of other cops. The reporters surged forward as one, arms thrust out with cell phones and other recording devices. Amy hit “record” on her phone and stacked her notebook on top so she could jot down every word, just in case.

“We made an arrest in the Adams case,” Pembroke said without preamble, in the same smug voice he used for every interaction with the press, no matter how grave the news. “Last night, we took Keith Jones, fiancé of Judy Adams, into custody…”

Amy took down the name of the suspect and then paused, listening as Pembroke went over all the details of the case. She was still a little confused as to why he’d called a press conference. This wasn’t an especially remarkable case, other than that the dead woman was young, blond and beautiful. (Amy had actually spent a weird amount of time studying her eyeshadow to try to figure out how she got such a fantastic daytime smoky-eye.) She’d been found strangled in Prospect Park last weekend, and for a day or so there had been concerns in the community that she was attacked by a stranger preying on women, which was probably why The Times and the Daily News were here. But that didn’t explain why the NYPD was holding a press conference.

Pembroke droned on for a while but he didn’t have much new to say – Amy had already been tipped off about the fiancé by Scully – and when he finally asked for questions, Amy let herself be nudged back by the other reporters as they yelled out their follow-ups. She glanced down at her phone, debating if she could stop recording, when a voice whispered in her ear.

“Ask about the ex.”

Amy jerked and looked back over her shoulder. A man was standing right behind her. He had dark tousled hair and he was wearing sunglasses and a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Amy thought, out of nowhere, ‘He has nice forearms.’ He also had a detective badge around his neck.

“What did you say?” she said.

The detective nodded toward Pembroke. “Ask him about the ex-boyfriend.”

Amy gaped at him for a moment, then turned back to Pembroke, who was smirking in a self-satisfied way at the assembled journalists -- which, again, was not anything new.

“Peralta!” a voice called out.

Amy looked back over her shoulder just as the detective did the same. He glanced once more at Amy, mouthed “the ex” very dramatically, then turned on his heel and walked away.

One of the TV reporters asked if a wedding date for the dead woman and her fiance had been scheduled and Pembroke said, “That’s a stupid question, we’re done” and made for the front door. The reporters let him go, and Amy ducked through the scattering pack of them. She reached Pembroke just as he was pushing open the precinct door.

“Captain?” Pembroke turned and looked her up and down, slowly. Amy felt her skin crawl and she cleared her throat. “Amy Santiago. With the Brooklyn Bulletin. What can you tell me about Judy Adams’ ex-boyfriend?”

Pembroke’s face went suddenly hard and he narrowed his eyes. “Why? Who told you about him?”

“No one,” Amy said, quickly. “Just, I heard there was an ex and I wondered if he was a suspect.”

Pembroke stared at her long enough to make her uncomfortable, then muttered, “No comment” and disappeared into the precinct.

+++

Amy worked the story the rest of the day. A quick look on Facebook confirmed that Judy Adams did have an ex-boyfriend, and he was a cop who worked out of Queens. She tracked down family and friends and talked to the fiance’s lawyer and even got Scully to slip up and tell her that Judy had once taken out a restraining order on her ex. Finally, with just half an hour before deadline and on a last-ditch whim, she called the jail to ask if anyone with the ex-boyfriend’s name was there, and the answer was yes. He’d been booked on murder charges that very afternoon. After Amy confirmed that the birthdate and city of residence of the inmate were the same as the ex-boyfriend – she’d seen it happen before, people with the same name getting confused in the media – she topped off the article and sent it to Terry, who ran it by Holt.

They made the deadline.

“That was good work, Santiago,” Holt said later, after asking her to stop by his office.

The story was Amy’s first big scoop, and Holt had never praised her before, not even a nod the first time she made the front page. She tried to school her face into a professional facade, though based on how much her cheeks hurt from containing her grin, she probably just looked insane.

“I can’t believe they were going to try to pin the murder on her fiancé,” she said, forcing herself to sound cool and casual.

“I doubt they were going to hold him for long.” Holt leaned forward and folded his hands under his chin. “My guess was they wanted to distract us with the fiancé, then let the story blow over for a few days before they arrested the police officer. They only arrested him today because you were asking questions.”

At that, Amy didn’t even bother to fight her grin. “I’m just happy justice will be served,” she said.

Holt nodded sagely and told her to go home. “I’ll want a follow tomorrow on this cop,” he said as she headed back to her desk to pick up her things.

Amy decided to walk home instead of taking the subway. It was late enough that the heat of the day had finally dissipated a little, and anyway, she hadn’t been outside once since getting back to the newsroom. It was nice to breathe some fresh air, such as it was in New York.

Today had been by far her most successful since joining the Bulletin staff three months ago. Honestly, it had been her first successful day, period.

At 30, Amy knew she was a bit on the old side for an entry-level job covering cops at a community newspaper like the Bulletin, but she’d just switched careers after a post-college stint as an elementary school art teacher. She’d actually been surprised when Holt had offered to put her on cops -- it wasn’t the most glamorous beat, but it was a step above general assignment. And it was a beat she genuinely loved. Of course she had aspirations to make it to The Times someday, but for the moment, she was thrilled to be exactly where she was: covering the NYPD, source of the grisliest, most sensational news in the country.

But crime was a tough beat, with especially fierce competition and tight-lipped sources and a lot of gossip and misinformation to contend with. The cops themselves were sometimes the hardest part of the job. There was so much bitter history and genuine mistrust between the NYPD and the media.

Amy had been feeling overwhelmed from her first day, and though Raymond Holt was a smart, inspiring editor in chief, he was also intimidating and she badly wanted to impress him. She’d been barely keeping up with the crimes of the day and had been starting to feel like maybe she didn’t have the spark to nail the bigger stories -- the scoops that make or break a reporter.

Until today, anyway. Amy hummed to herself as she crossed through Fort Greene Park, which was still buzzing with activity even after 10 p.m. on a Friday night, though much of the noise came from the bars and restaurants on the perimeter. Her story would already be online by now, and tomorrow it would be on the front page of the newspaper. She could hardly wait to see the reaction it would get. Even The Times would have to follow her lead.

As she headed up Franklin toward her apartment, Amy replayed the events of the day all over again. It had started with that detective. He’d had an impish smile and unruly hair, but his information had been solid. She wondered why he’d picked her out of the crowd of reporters.

Peralta. That was the name he’d responded to. She’d have to look him up sometime.

+++

“Peralta, you are an idiot.”

Rosa shoved her phone in front of Jake’s face and he jerked back instinctively, sloshing beer down his shirt and into his lap.

“Rosa, what the-”

“Read,” Rosa said, shaking the phone. He took it from her and squinted at the text she’d pulled up on the screen.

“Oh, hey. I didn’t think she’d get the story that fast,” Jake said, impressed.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Rosa snatched her phone back. “The Vulture will slaughter you if he finds out this came from you.”

Jake shrugged, though in reality the very idea of being found out tipping off a reporter made him feel slightly ill. “I just didn’t want to see that asshole get off.”

“You know they were going to arrest him anyway.”

“Yeah, but only after no one gave a shit anymore, and then at least the department could save face,” Jake said. He grabbed a napkin and blotted at his wet clothes. “I’m just tired of this bullshit.”

He knew he didn’t have to explain to Rosa the bullshit he was talking about. The Vulture had taken over the Nine-Nine almost two years ago, and their jobs had been hell ever since.

Pembroke’s stated goal was not so much about catching bad guys, but making the NYPD – and more specifically Pembroke himself – look good. In theory, those were the same goals. But somehow under the Vulture the two paths diverged, and Jake and Rosa had found themselves increasingly pressured to prioritize cases that would get positive media attention and back off of the – as Pembroke put it – garbage ones.

Most of the decent cops in the Nine-Nine had left within a year of the Vulture taking over, but somehow Jake and Rosa were still there, partnered on a lonely island surrounded by cold, unfriendly, shark- (or vulture-) infested waters.

“If you’re thinking of making a habit of this, don’t,” Rosa said, tipping her beer bottle toward Jake in a weirdly threatening way. “The Vulture will find out, and if he doesn’t, Wuntch will. It’s too risky.”

“I know.” Jake sighed, and took a long pull from his beer. “I just kind of lost it today when he actually called a press conference and fed them all lies. He knowingly arrested the wrong man and made him the headline of the day. That’s messed up, Rosa.”

Rosa nodded glumly. “Yeah, that was all kinds of fucked up.”

They drank in silence for a while, ignoring the other cops and assorted locals at Shaw’s. Jake grabbed a handful of nuts from the bowl on their table and picked out the cashews before tossing the rest in his mouth.

Approaching that reporter had been a spontaneous decision. He’d snuck out the back of the precinct to watch the press conference, knowing it was going to piss him off. When the Vulture had started spelling the fiance’s name -- to make sure the journalists got it right, of course -- something in Jake had snapped.

He’d waited until the reporters converged on him to ask their questions and then sidled up right behind the young woman in the back. Her shiny brown hair had been falling out of her bun, the loose strands curling around her neck, and her pink blouse was sticking to her back with sweat. She’d clearly been startled when he’d suddenly whispered in her ear, but she’d recovered quickly. He’d watched her approach Pembroke straight away. So she was brave, or else just new.

Jake left Shaw’s on the early side, after Rosa decided to chew him out some more. At his apartment, he showered and changed into sleep clothes and climbed into bed, then he pulled up the Bulletin story and read it to the end. She’d done good work, and Jake felt an unexpected flush of pride. Rosa was right, he’d taken a big risk -- but it had been the right thing.

He scrolled back up to the top of the story and read the byline.

‘Well,’ Jake thought, as he flipped off his phone and tucked it under his pillow, ‘it was nice working with you, Amy Santiago.’

CHAPTER 2

#b99 #b99 fic #jake and amy au #newspaper au #life writes its own stories #peraltiago

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stolethekey · 5 years

Text

it’s your love i’m lost in

read on ao3

for @ofbuttsandbombs (and @b99fandomevents)

a combination of the prompts “kevin and raymond renew their vows” and “an MCU post-snap au”

The precinct is quieter these days.

It still takes Amy by surprise, sometimes; there are mornings on which she strolls through the elevator doors half-expecting the lively hubbub of a precinct two-and-a-half years gone, mornings where the sight of a half-empty bullpen sends a familiar wave of pain crashing through her chest.

She thinks her subconscious is manufacturing hope. Rosa says it’s a coping mechanism of some sorts, because dealing with the unending despair day-in and day-out would render them completely useless. It makes sense, in a way – it feels scientifically impossible for her to get out of bed some days, and yet she’s been on time every single day since the NYPD had mandated its employees to return to work.

Captain Holt had tried his best to extend her time off, but he could only do so much, and she’d wanted to work, anyway. Being at home is no better than being at the precinct; his presence is still everywhere, and at least at work she can distract herself with the missing people who actually have a chance of being found.

And if she refuses to even look at the eternally empty desk across from her – well, who could blame her?

She doesn’t need to look at the surface of it, now coated with two-and-a-half years’ worth of dust and grime, to feel as if it will crush her, to know that it is a terrible reminder of the void that exists in her bedroom, in her car, in her life. It’s the same emptiness that has overtaken her fridge, save for the one expired bottle of orange soda that she refuses to throw out. It exists everywhere, now; it hovers around the desk Rosa glances at every so often, the one still sporting the Det. Charles Boyle nameplate. It’s palpable every time Terry starts to speak and then hesitates briefly before continuing, as if he is waiting for a certain assistant to interrupt him in a scathingly sarcastic voice.

Even Hitchcock and Scully are quieter now.

It’s a small solace that both of them are still here, Amy supposes – so many duos were ripped apart by the snap, and the fact that the most consistent partnership in the Nine-Nine was spared is strangely comforting.

In any case, the precinct has been quiet for two and a half years, and it’s going to be quiet for however many years Amy has left at it.

Every day looks the same, now, and for the foreseeable future, every day is going to look the same.

Ordinarily, the sheer unendingness of it all would be enough to send her into a depressive spiral that would leave her bedridden for days, but the practical side of her knows that if that starts it will never end. Sometimes, giving into that slippery slope sounds more than inviting, but her therapist says it’s important to at least try.

So she tries, and she manages to find comfort in the little hints of normalcy that surface sometimes. She laughs when Hitchcock accidentally feeds Scully a tube of toothpaste. She helps Rosa get her knife out of the wall after a particularly rough interrogation. She rolls her eyes when the scent of Terry’s mango yogurt reaches her desk.

It’s not much, but it’s enough to keep her going.

Every day looks the same, and she wants something different as much as she fears it.

Maybe that’s why a thrill runs down her spine when Kevin shows up at the precinct one day, his eyes dancing with an uncharacteristic apprehension.

She chews her lip nervously as she eyes Holt’s closed door, and as it opens to reveal a slightly-worried Kevin she lets her pen drop to her desk.

“Santiago,” Kevin says softly, a slightly wavering smile toying at his lips. “Would you come in here for a second?”

She stands, making her best attempt at a confident posture, and strolls toward the office, exchanging a brief, confused glance with Rosa on the way there.

“Captain,” she says, forcing some cheeriness into her voice. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes,” Holt says, gesturing at her to close the door. “I wanted to ask a favor.”

“A favor.”

“We know the last two and a half years have been long and hard, and that you’ve been through a lot–“

Something in her stomach clenches. “What is it, sir?”

Kevin clears his throat and she turns toward him as he steps forward, looking uncharacteristically uncomfortable. “Well, uh – you may remember that before – um, before everything happened, Raymond and I were talking about doing a vow renewal.”

She nods.

“We – er, well, we thought that – um, since some time has passed, and, uh, well–“

“We still want to do it,” Holt interrupts, shooting a reassuring smile at his husband.

“Oh,” Amy says, a curious emotion creeping up her shoulders. “Um, sorry, that’s great, but what do I have to do with that?”

Kevin taps a finger on the desk, looking even more uncomfortable. “Raymond thinks you would be a good person to, er, give a speech at the ceremony. And I am inclined to agree.”

“Oh,” Amy says again. “Um, that’s a huge honor, sir–“

“You do not have to accept,” Holt says, watching her carefully. “I promise I will not think less of you. And if I were in your position, I’m not sure I would want to either. We simply – I have a lot of respect for you, Santiago, as an employee, as a mentee, and as a friend. And it would be an honor to have you speak.”

She hesitates, her hands kneading the fabric of her blazer, and glances at Kevin. He gives her a small smile.

“Please don’t feel obligated to, really – we’re asking as friends, and we would completely understand if you don’t want to –“

“I do,” she says quickly. “I do want to, don’t get me wrong, I just – may I have some time to think about it?”

“Of course,” Holt says gently. “Take all the time you need.”

“You don’t have to do it,” Rosa says later that day, taking a swig of her beer. “Holt won’t like you any less.”

Amy shifts in her seat, eying the neon Shaw’s sign that hangs over the bar. “I know, but part of me wants to. If he’d asked me to do it three years ago, I would’ve lost my mind. There’s no way I’d even consider turning it down.”

“So do it.”

“But things are different now, you know? People are – people are gone, and the concept of love doesn’t feel the same anymore, and I don’t know if I have it in me– ”

“So don’t do it.”

“You are so unhelpful; do you know that?”

Rosa shrugs. “It’s your decision.”

“Yeah, and I’m asking you for help."

The beer bottle hits the table with a thud, and Rosa sighs. “If you want my honest opinion–”

“I do.”

“Then I think you should do it.”

“Okay,” Amy says slowly. “Why?”

“That support group you go to – it’s all about moving on, right? About making sure Thanos doesn’t get the satisfaction of ending our lives, too.”

“I mean, yeah, but–”

“Part of moving on is living like you would have without tragedy. And without tragedy, you would’ve screamed ‘Yes!!’ before Holt could even finish his sentence.”

“Yeah,” Amy says quietly. “But…there is tragedy. It happened. And ignoring it just seems wrong, somehow.”

Rosa looks at her, an uncharacteristic softness in her gaze. “Jake would’ve wanted you to do it.”

Amy’s jaw clenches. “That – that’s not –”

“Yeah, it is,” Rosa says flatly. “If Jake was here, would you be sitting here right now, forcing me to have this conversation?”

“I – well, that’s beside the point, isn’t it, since he isn’t here, and–”

“No, it’s not,” Rosa interrupts. “If he was here, you’d be celebrating with him, and he’d be equally as excited for you as he would be about getting to see his dads hold a wedding ceremony.”

Amy’s hand tightens around the stem of her wine glass.

Rosa notices, of course, and her voice is gentler when she speaks again. “I’m just saying, you shouldn’t be afraid to do it because you think you’re disrespecting his memory, or the love you had and lost. If anything, you standing up and celebrating love in defiance of everything that’s been taken from you is an act of incredible courage. It would honor his memory. And he’d be so proud of you for it.”

Amy hesitates, but the more she stares at her drink the more she notices that the queasiness in her stomach is fading.

“I–yeah, okay,” she mutters. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

Rosa grins. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Amy breathes, a smile starting to make its way onto her lips. “Yeah. I’m gonna do it.”

The ceremony is small and intimate, and as Amy stands at the front of the room, looking out into the faces of her mentor and friends, she feels a small rush of pride at the family the Nine-Nine has managed to build.

“Ask anyone at the Nine-Nine, and they’ll tell you that Captain Holt and Kevin have a bond that is as unbreakable as they come,” she starts, and the sight of everyone’s smiles is surprisingly calming. “And I think we’ve seen that to be true. The snap broke apart so many couples, but it couldn’t touch them.”

There is a collective, subdued intake of breath, and Amy’s jaw tightens slightly.

“I know it’s hard to talk about, and it may seem inappropriate on a day like this, but I think it’s important to acknowledge. Because this is more than a celebration of love. It’s a celebration of a determination, a celebration of defiant joy in the face of a world that laughs at you and says you will never be happy again.”

Terry’s eyes start shining in the front row.

“I lost my husband, Jake, that day. And his best friend, Charles.” She pauses. “Charles was spared a Jake-less existence, and there are times I think he was the lucky one. But I realize, now, that it does not do to dwell on what might have been when what we have, what is, is still so beautiful. Tinged with pain and loss, maybe, but still beautiful.”

She smiles. “That’s been the theme of the entire Holt-Cozner relationship. Finding love, despite everything telling them that they cannot. Being confronted with danger, with fear, with risk, but making the incredibly brave choice to love anyway.”

The pride and love in Holt’s eyes seem to be igniting a fire within her, but it is not the roaring flame she is used to; instead, it is warm, safe, and comforting. A hearth, rather than a blaze.

“Thank you, Captain, and thank you, Kevin, for everything. You have taught me so much since Captain Holt first walked through the doors of the Nine-Nine, both police work-related and not, and this is perhaps the most important lesson of all. Love really, truly, does persevere, and we are all stronger because of it.”

“So thank you. And congratulations.”

She steps back from the microphone, Rosa mouths proud of you from the front row, and as the room explodes into applause, Amy feels the emptiness lift a little.

When she steps off the elevator the next day, the bullpen is humming with energy – Rosa is perched on Terry’s desk, handing him a container of yogurt, Holt is talking to a few beat cops next to the break room, and Hitchcock and Scully are loudly debating the virtues of extra cheese on a meatball sub.

It’s not quite the comfortable bustle of years past, but it’s closer, and for the first time in a long time, there is a smile on Amy’s face as she settles into her chair.

And if she spends the entire afternoon cleaning the dust and filth off the desk across from her – well, who could blame her?

#brooklyn 99 #brooklyn nine nine #b99 #b99 summer 2019 fic exchange #jake peralta #amy santiago #jake peralta x amy santiago #peraltiago #raymond holt x kevin cozner #holt and kevin renew their vows #my fics #b99 fanfic #b99 fandom events

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theclaravoyant · 5 years

Note

Top 5 fic recs?

ooh, that’s a tough one, I read such a wide variety within and increasingly across fandoms and most of what I read are drabbles and oneshots that are very hard to keep track of... if anyone is after my fic recs I would highly recommend going into the show or ship tag, etc, and poking around. so much good stuff i will never do it justice!

that said, here are SOME of the incredible fics that have been making me feel things lately

Path to Paradise, Road to Ruin - David x Patrick (Schitt’s Creek) AU. A beautifully crafted epic poem which weaves canon in in a stunning way. Will break your heart and you’ll love it.

honey, let’s get married (series) - David x Patrick (Schitt’s Creek). A series of super soft & fluffy vignettes set during in the lead up to the wedding; I have fallen in love

love bites so deep (series) - Fitz x Hunter (Agents of Shield). Those who know me have heard me throw this into every rec list I possibly can. This is a rarepair and I am blessed to have @florchis in my corner, especially with this beautifully crafted series full of tenderness, passion, just a little bit of an air of tragedy, and so full of love

Meet Cute: A Team Engineering Group Writing Project - FitzSimmons (Agents of SHIELD), an oldie but a goodie. As I said, I don’t tend to read longfic/multichaps much, but there are a tonne of talented people in this fandom and heaps (of course not all) of them had a hand in this fluffy rom-com-esque work of creative genius and teamwork. (I actually did used to use my ‘fic rec’ tag back when I read multichaps, and a lot of those are FS, so if you’re a fan of that ship dive deep my pretties)

Regarding the Incident In Which Raymond Ran Away to Mexico - Holt x Kevin (Brooklyn 99). There is not enough fic in this world for these two imo, and this one has excellent voices and relationships while answering questions/filling a void I had always wanted. Love it.

ask me my top 5 anything

#david x patrick #fitzhunter #fitzsimmons #holt x kevin #schitt's creek #agents of shield #brooklyn 99 #ask me stuff #life of a fangirl #Anonymous

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sambergscott · 5 years

Text

‘cause you’ll be safe in these arms of mine

Summary: Jake and Amy asking people to be godparents, inspired by a convo with @capnperaltiago who asked for me to write this <3

She asks Rosa two minutes after the plastic stick says pregnant.

Jake and Holt are out working a case and Terry’s taken the day off to be with his girls, leaving Amy in charge of the Nine-Nine. Hitchcock and Scully have already started a small fire, one of the uniformed officers lost a piece of evidence and there was a fight amongst two perps in the holding cell. And Amy can’t stop throwing up.

At first she blames it on work-related stress and then she thinks it must have been the Chinese she ate last night while watching re-runs of Friends. It’s not until Rosa pulls out a pregnancy test she picked up from the store that she realises it could be morning sickness.

They’re not even properly trying yet. Sure, she’s come off her birth control because she’s done enough research to know that it could take months to get pregnant after coming off them and they still can’t take their hands off each other, even after over a year of marriage, but neither of them were expecting anything to happen this soon.

She pees on the stick and, several anxiety-ridden minutes later, it comes back positive.

She’s pregnant.

And she panics.

This is what she wanted, what she’s always wanted, but what if Jake’s still not quite ready yet and what if one of them dies on the job and what if they can’t actually afford this and-.

“Santiago,” comes Rosa’s gruff voice, her hands steadying Amy’s quivering shoulders, “you two have got this. You’re gonna be the best parents I know.”

“Even better than Terry and Sharon?” She snivels.

“Yeah.” Then, quickly, “don’t tell them I said that.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” Amy promises, zipping her mouth shut.

“Yours too.” Rosa mimics her zipping action, throwing the imaginary key into the toilet like she’s Steph Curry.

Amy laughs, a sudden idea popping into her head. It seems weird to ask before consulting Jake, before Jake even knows there’s a baby inside her, but it also feels right. She rips off the bandaid. “Will you be the godmother?”

The detective freezes, her mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. “Me?”

“Mm-hmm.” Amy smiles at Rosa’s surprise. They are complete opposites — Rosa likes motorbikes, Amy likes binders, Rosa likes leather jackets and big boots, Amy likes sensible pantsuits — yet they’ve become sisters, sleuth sisters, over the past nine years. There’s nobody else Amy would consider for the job. “You’ve always had my back and I think you’d have our baby’s back, too. Plus, if our baby turns out like Jake, you’ve always known how to handle him.”

Rosa snorts, then smiles back at her. Amy thinks she detects a few tears in Rosa’s eyes, but doesn’t say a word, not wanting to ruin the moment. Rosa eventually nods. “Yeah. I’m in.”

“C’mere,” Amy cries, the damn pregnancy hormones already making her emotions crazy as she pulls Rosa into a tight hug.

It’s Jake’s idea to make Charles godfather.

Amy’s a little… apprehensive at first, to say the least, considering Charles’ track record of being totally obsessed with every aspect of their personal lives. He’s sent her 75 emails about birthing tips, offering his doula services at the end of each one, in the last week alone. He came round their apartment one night to get rid of all coffee, alcohol, shame cigarettes and any other No-No foods during pregnancy. He’s already suggested the names Charles Peralta if it’s a boy and Charlotte if it’s a girl, which Amy vetoed immediately. Making Charles godfather would only allow him into their lives further. And she loves her husband’s best friend, she really does, but she doesn’t want their kid becoming obsessed with weird milk and beige-coloured clothes and the TV show Bunheads.

When Jake argues that nobody else is gonna love their kid more than Charles, Amy finally agrees. Charles will shower their baby with all the love in the world. And if Charles has any influence at all on his godchild, it will be that their kid will be just as big a fan of Jake as Charles is.

Unlike Rosa, they both agree that they can’t just ask Charles. It needs to be an event — like when Jake asked him to be his best man with sparklers and a big ol’ banner. Amy suggests they ask him on Halloween and they spend a full evening planning how it’s going to go down.

“This year’s object is this t-shirt,” Jake announces to the squad on the biggest night of the year, holding up a plain white t-shirt with the words “Amazing Human/Genius” printed in gold foiling. “Whoever has it in their possession at midnight will be declared the winner.”

Like Halloween V, Jake has the real prize waiting in the evidence lock-up. But he doesn’t tell anyone that.

When The Tramps (with Rosa in on Jake and Amy’s secret) barge into the evidence lock-up at two minutes before midnight, thinking they’re finally the champions, Charles is the first to lift the t-shirt out of the storage box.

(It was the one with the uneven dust pattern, just like when Jake proposed to Amy, just like he’d heard a million times over when he asked to hear the story on a bi-weekly basis).

He furrows his brow when he realises the words don’t say what they’re supposed to.

Jake and Amy jump out from behind a stack of evidence boxes and Charles shrieks. For a second they think they’ve caused yet another colleague to die from a heart attack, but he somehow stays on his feet.

“Amazing Godfather/Genius,” he reads the adapted text, trembling like a leaf. His eyes meet Jake’s, who nods, confirming that, yes, his wildest dreams have indeed come true.

“What do you say, bud?” Jake prompts.

“Yes! Yes! A thousand times yes!”

Amy laughs happily as she watches her husband and his best friend embrace, exchanging wide grins with Terry and Rosa. Their kid is a lucky guy or girl with their entire Nine-Nine family looking out for them.

There’s only one last thing to do.

They arrange to have dinner with Holt and Kevin to ask them if they will be the “god-grandfathers” of their unborn child.

(“God-grandfathers are not a thing, Peralta,” Amy had said when he first proposed the word, rolling her eyes.

“Who says?”

“The Merriam-Webster Dictionary, for starters.”

“Well, it’s a thing now,” Jake decided. He’d never cared for the Merriam-Webster Dictionary before, so why should he now? No use changing the habit of a lifetime. “It’s our thing. Because they’re our #Dads. I wouldn’t feel comfortable raising our kid without them.”

Her face softened, tears pricking at her eyes — those damn pregnancy hormones again — and she finally agreed. “God-grandfathers it is.”)

She’s incredibly nervous by the time they’re at the front door of the Holt-Cozner home, her fingers twisting the ends of her hair into a messy braid.

Jake places his hand atop hers, stilling her fingers. He gives her hand a supportive squeeze. “It’s gonna be great, Ames.”

They don’t bring it up until there’s a lull in conversation mid-way through the casserole Kevin prepared for them, unable to wait any longer. Even Jake is a little anxious, his leg bouncing beneath the table, when he broaches the subject.

“You know how Charles and Rosa are going to be our baby’s godparents?”

“Yes, I recall Raymond mentioning the fact,” Kevin responds. “Apparently it is all Detective Boyle talks about.”

“He’s very excited,” Amy says, amused. She finds herself less annoyed and more touched by Charles’ antics when they’re directed at others and not her or her email inbox.

“Well, Ames and I would love it if you two would have an important role in our kid’s life because, I don’t know if you’ve noticed because we’re super subtle about it, but we kind of consider you both as father figures.”

“We have noticed.”

“You are not subtle at all,” Holt assures them.

“Cool, cool, cool. No doubt. No doubt. No doubt. What do you say? Would you like to be the god-grandfathers to Nakatomi Peralta?”

“Please tell me you’re not naming your child after a building from your favourite movie,” Holt says disapprovingly.

“No,” Jake scoffs, then, under his breath, “Nakatomi is a character, too.”

“We would be honoured.” Kevin smiles lovingly at his husband, then at Jake and Amy. After a few seconds, his smile falls. “Although you are aware god-grandfathers are not a real thing, yes?”

“It’s our thing,” Amy repeats Jake’s words from earlier, beaming from ear to ear.

When their baby arrives, seven point five pounds of perfection, they have a lot of visitors, all wanting to feast their eyes on the precious addition to the family. The grandparents get first hold (apparently Victor and Roger had another arm wrestling match in the hospital waiting room to decide who got the very first hold), then Amy’s brothers that live in the city, then the godparents and god-grandparents.

Charles starts crying the moment he’s in the same room as her, only stopping when Amy threatens to make him leave.

Rosa smiles more than either Jake and Amy have ever seen her smile.

Captain Holt is quite simply enamoured with the little bundle of blankets, unable to mask his emotions in his usual robotic way when his god-granddaughter grips his pinky finger.

Jake and Amy exchange proud parent smiles as they watch their hours-old daughter with four of the people they trust most, knowing she will always be safe, loved and happy when in their arms.

#my writing #peraltiago fics #b99 fics #jake x amy #the end is corny but!!!!#i've been thinking about this fic for weeks

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dancezwithwolvez · 5 years

Text

PERFECT HOUSE

Kevin burst in through the doors with his car and punched the living daylights out of Seamus. He began to untie the binds that were holding Holt and Peralta.

Through the corner of his eye, he saw Seamus trying to get up. Kevin vented out all his anger through a powerful kick to his stomach. Another kick to the groin ensured that he would remain on the ground for atleast 10 minutes.

Kevin yelled, "TAKE THAT YOU DIRTBAG!!"

Jake gasped and whispered to Holt excitedly, "He finally said dirtbag!!"

Holt was speechless. He couldn't believe his eyes and ears. Kevin had done something he could have never imagined in a million years , but more importantly he was safe.

Kevin came to untie his knots and Holt felt something cold on his palm. When he looked up he saw Kevin was crying. Once he was free, Kevin hugged Holt with such intensity that Holt feared he would fall down. Throughout the embrace, Kevin and Holt were repeating just one thing over and over again to each other "I am sorry."

Jake felt a flood of relief wash over him. He knew that Holt and Kevin were perfect for each other. But the past few weeks had been difficult for the both of them. He continued tying Seamus and his assistant to the chair.

Holt was tending to Kevin's bruised knuckles. He quietly asked, "Do you forgive me?"

Kevin was taken aback.

He snapped, " IF ANYONE SHOULD BE APOLOGIZING IT IS ME!!!. I put your and Jake's life in danger. And for what. Because I felt little cooped up. I could have lost you today and the last thing I said was that I wanted to move away from you."

Holt chuckled lightly, "This doesn't sound much of an apology." "Professor we have both made mistakes", his voice taking a serious tone, "we will be forever stuck in a loop of apologies and that will lead to nothing. We have to make sure this doesn't change the way we feel about one another. Let us agree to put this incident behind us and start afresh. I have one last thing to apologize to you." Holt said with a slight smile.

Kevin furrowed his brows and was ready to retort to anything Holt said.

"I never thought you paid any attention to my self defense classes . But clearly I was wrong. I AM a great teacher." Holt declared in an exaggerated tone.

Kevin rolled his eyes. A habit he had seemed to learn from Peralta. Kevin smiled for the first time in many weeks, "I love you Captain Raymond Holt" and a passionate kiss sealed that discussion.

En route to Brooklyn:

Kevin was seated next to Holt in Terry's minivan. Terry was listing the many advantages of his minivan to Kevin. But it was falling on deaf ears.

Kevin's pad of thumb lightly grazed Holt's wrists feeling the impression left by the restraints. Tears threatened to fall whenever he thought about the warehouse. He twined his fingers with Holt and slightly squeezed his hands.

He knew that Holt didn't approve of public displays of affection and neither did he. But he needed this. He needed the contact. He needed this to ground him. He needed this to assure him that this was all over. He needed this to prove to himself that he still loved the man, who he had just put in danger and he also was still being loved. He needed this more than he needed oxygen to breathe.

To his surprise, Holt didn't show any resistance and was more than willing to join hands. Kevin left out a breath he didn't realise he was holding when Raymond squeezed his hands back. This exhaled breath signified his freedom from that hell hole.

Kevin was at peace. He had his husband by his side. He was going to meet Cheddar. He was going to his house. He was going to his books. He smiled to himself and felt his eyelids becoming heavy. This might be the first peaceful sleep he had had in months. He fell asleep on Holt's shoulder visualizing all the things he would do when he got back home.

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

Holt had been very afraid when Kevin said he would leave him. Kevin was the most perfect human being he had ever met and he doubted he would find someone like him again. But when he saw their tightly locked fingers and the peacefully asleep Kevin on his shoulder his fears vanished.

He had unknowingly treated the love of his life badly and he wanted to do something special for his more than perfect husband. But what should he do?

Suddenly, a distant memory came to the foreground and he instantly knew what he should do.

He decided to renew his love for Kevin by asking him to marry again. He removed his hand from Kevin's hand.

Kevin whined sleepily from the lack of contact. He tried to get closer to the warmth he had before. But he was failing and getting annoyed at his failure adorably. He was so perfect!!! Holt wrapped his hand around Kevin and pulled him closer and planted a quick kiss on Kevin's temple.

A look of contentment passed through Kevin's features when he had his warmth returned back to him

He returned the smile that Terry was giving through the front view mirror hesitantly. After all, he was going to need his help to plan a romantic proposal because Terry loves love.

The End.

#ray and kevin #kevin cozner #raymond holt #rainbow

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set-phasers-to-whump · 5 years

Text

whumptober day 17

prompt: “stay with me”

whumpee: jake peralta (yes another one that not too many people whump no i dont learn)

It happened too fast for anything else to have happened. One second, Captain Raymond Holt had been carefully talking down a man with a gun pointed directly at his head. The next, he was on the ground, and a body was atop him, and a gun had gone off.

He took a fraction of a second to process the situation. Peralta had been nearby-the two of them had come alone to apprehend a supposedly non-violent suspect at his own apartment. Jake had hung back a second, and Holt had gone in, a gun had been drawn, and that brought them here. The suspect had gotten away. The whole thing had taken maybe two minutes.

Holt gently sat up-he was perfectly fine, he noticed. He shifted Jake off of him and laid him on the ground. There was a single gunshot wound through his torso-not immediately fatal, but one that needed fairly immediate medical attention. He was conscious-barely.

“Are-are you okay?” came a weak voice, followed up by a harsh cough and faint groan.

“I am fine, thanks to you-why would you do that, Peralta? There were better ways to handle the situation.”

“Didn’t-didn’t want you to get shot. Better me than the Captain, right?” he laughed softly. “Ow.”

At least he was still cracking jokes. “An ambulance will be here very soon. Just stay awake until then.”

“Awww, please can I close my eyes? Just for a second?”

“No. You will stay awake until the ambulance arrives, and that’s an order.”

Holt took off his jacket and balled it up to press into the wound, in order to slow the bleeding.

“Ow, ow, ow! What’re you doin’?”

“Attempting to control the bleeding.”

“Well, stop it! That makes it hurt worse!”

Holt ignored him, continuing to staunch the bleeding. “It should only be about three more minutes.”

A minute passed, with Holt periodically checking to make sure Jake was still awake, since he’d elected to stop talking.

Jake was trying to be brave-really he was. He’d been hurt loads of times before. This was just one more time.

But it hurt, it hurt so bad, and he was having more and more trouble keeping his eyes open, and it hurt so bad.

A second minute passed. Jake’s face had grown steadily more pale, and his heartbeat was slowly speeding up. He coughed harshly, a small amount of blood staining his lips.

“It hurts…” he whined.

Captain Holt had never seen his best detective like this-his usual attitude had completely evaporated, he sounded...like a kid. Like a scared kid. His eyelids fluttered closed.

“Stay with me!” Holt barked. “The ambulance will be here at any second-I can hear the sirens now. Just open your eyes.”

Jake slowly and painfully opened his eyes. “I’m gonna die,” he whispered. “And it won’t even be cool.”

“Don’t talk like that!” Holt said sharply. “You will be fine.”

Jake shivered and coughed again. More blood coated his lips. “You...you promise?”

He didn’t want to promise. He did not like making promises when he could not be entirely sure that they would be kept.

Jake’s hand clumsily flopped around and landed on top of Holt’s. “You promise, right?” He took a shaky breath. “Please promise...please, please, I don’t wanna die…” He would have cried if there had been any strength at all left in him.

“I...promise.”

“Good,” said Jake, and closed his eyes.

“Jake!”

But he didn’t reply. And then two EMTs came rushing in and loaded Jake onto a stretcher, and Holt followed them out into the street, and all it took was a quick explanation as Jake was loaded into the back of an ambulance for him to be allowed to ride in it as well.

Truthfully, he didn’t remember much about the ride to the hospital-only that the EMTs had reassured him that they’d gotten far worse GSW’s and absolutely knew what they were doing (he was pretty sure he’d asked them this in a fairly condescending manner, which he did feel a bit bad about after the fact).

He’d been forced to sit in the waiting room for what felt like far too long. The rest of the precinct, by this point, was aware of what had happened, but it was around 5:00 (though it felt as though it should’ve been late at night), and there was a huge rush-hour traffic jam stopping up the entire city. Amy had called him in an utter panic, but he’d reassured her that Jake was going to be fine, and that he’d keep everybody updated until they arrived.

Finally, he was allowed in to see Jake, although he was asleep. He looked horribly wrong. His face was still far too pale, there were several needles sticking into him, and he wasn’t moving at all, apart from taking slow, deep breaths. It was unnatural.

Holt sat awkwardly in the plastic hospital chair next to the bed, wishing for someone else from the nine-nine to arrive. He decided he did not care for this at all. But he stayed.

i know my ending is Bad but we know this is to be expected by now,,,anyway thanks if you read this!!! i love you!!

#whumptober2019 #no.17 #stay with me #shot #blood #unconscious #jake peralta #brooklyn 99 #i say things

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letsperaltiago · 5 years

Text

love is to know that you are on my side (Jake x Amy)

I Love You-prompt request #85: It doesn’t bother me.

Geeez, it’s been a hundred years since I wrote a oneshot for this I love you-prompt list, but here is another one! Get ready for some sweet pining and pre-dating Peraltiago!

Word count: 2.4k

The moon was bright, reigning over the pitch-black February sky that hovered over the beach house. After Jake talked it out with their captain, thus resolving the tension between the detectives and their boss, the weekend fun had continued with lots of “Real Ray or Fake Ray”, jokes, alcohol and laughs. Hours flew by without anyone noticing, and by the time anyone actually bothered to look at the clock again, it was 2 AM. Of course Holt was the first to do so.

“Oh my,” the man looked at his wrist watch, holding an almost empty beer bottle in his other hand. Tonight he’d had more than just his usual one beer, but didn’t mind even though his head felt slightly heavy. The squad had made him feel included and he’d definitely remember this weekend for a long time. “It is already 2 AM. I better head to bed, or I will miss out on my recommended 7 hours of sleep.”

Jake, who was sitting on the couch between Gina and a (still) passed out Amy with the woman’s legs stretched across his lap, had to frown at this. He was definitely too tipsy to deny that he really liked and enjoyed the company of his ‘stick in the mud’-captain. “Nooo, Captain. Don’t ruin the fun. We just got the fun back. Me like the fun,” he whined like a child.

If he hadn’t had 5 beers already and was nursing a 6th, Jake would’ve noticed his superior officers smile as a reaction to his words, but Holt was lucky enough to get away with it this time. “Thank you for tonight, everyone. And for bringing me along for the weekend. I know it did not live up to your expectations right away, but I am glad to see that we have seemed to work it out.”

Everyone smiled widely, raising their drinks and sharing one last ‘Nine nine!’, before the captain headed to his room for the night. The chatter between the remaining detectives (Scully and Hitchcock having passed out in the upstairs living room about an hour ago, when going to grab their late midnight snacks) continued. Suddenly Jake felt something move in his lap, causing him to remember that hours ago he’d casually removed his passed out colleague’s legs from the couch to allow himself to sit. He’d of course been very careful to not wake her and had put her legs back in their spot, though this time resting across his lap. Since then, his hand (the one that wasn’t holding his beer) had casually rested on her knee. Said knee suddenly moved beneath his palm, causing his head to turn to look at Amy’s suddenly uncomfortable facial expression.

“Good morning, sunshine. Hope you slept like hell,” Jake sent the black-haired women a big smile, contradicting his words.

“Shut up, Peralta. I feel like shit,” she groaned, as he gently pulled back a leg in order to (gently) kick his thigh, where her leg had previously rested.

“Hey!” The young detective’s exclamation was a merge between playful and hurt, accompanying a frowning face as he managed to grab her attacking foot to keep it still. “I let you rest on me and this is what I get? I am hurt, Santiago. HURT!”

As he spoke, the tired look on Amy’s face suddenly twisted and expressed a whole new level of discomfort - panic even. She tried pulling back her foot, but his immature colleague wasn’t going to let her move. “Jake!” She pulled again and again. “If you don’t let go of me right now, you’ll be having barf resting in your lap!”

Understanding the magnitude of the situation, he immediately let go of the fighting foot and watched his friend stumble off the couch before running off to the bathroom with the speed Raymond Holt post street meat. The sound of talking suddenly drowned, everyone looking after a running Amy before looking at each other and then lastly at Jake.

“What?” His eyebrows rose to enhance the confusion he was feeling from the sudden attention.

“Don’t just sit around, man. Go check up on her!” Rosa nodded in the direction in which Amy had ran, sending him wide eyes that even a slightly drunk Jake Peralta could translate to ‘You obviously still like her so act like it’.

“Oh, um- Of course. I’ll go see if she uh- needs something,” he pushed himself off the couch, suddenly feeling much more sober as he made his way upstairs while the other detectives’ chatter rose again. Immediately upon arriving upstairs, he saw that the bathroom door was left ajar and heard the sound of a heaving Amy.

“Ames?” He carefully pushed open the door only to see her kneeling in front of the toilet with her back facing him. He winced feeling a mixture of malaise and sympathy, standing still in the door frame, unsure of what to do. That was until another heave rose from the bottom of her gut, immediately causing him to run over to kneel by his friend and hold her hair. Her stupid soft hair, he couldn’t help but notice. “There you go,” he said encouragingly, slowly stroking her back with his other hand. “I know it sucks right now, but you’ll feel better once it’s all out.”

Though she wanted to, Amy didn’t get to say anything before another heave made its presence known. For the next few minutes they both stayed in the same positions, the only sound coming from the bathroom being alcohols unfortunate counter-strike. When the sound of heaving suddenly stopped reappearing every 30 seconds or so, Jake carefully got off the floor and filled the glass by the sink with cold water.

“Here,” he sat back down on the cold marble floor, presenting the water to his friend.

She shook her head, squinting her eyes in displeasure. “Can’t swallow anything. It’ll just come back up again.”

“Nonsense. You need water, Amy. Drink.”

Against her will, knowing that he was right, the young woman grabbed the glass and clumsily pushed back her messy hair with her remaining hand. Jake, seeing how her hair bothered her, noticed a hair tie on her wrist and gently removed it. Before she could comprehend it entirely, Amy Santiago was sipping on cold water as Jake Peralta struggled, yet still managed, to pull her hair back into a (very) messy pony-tail.

“Feeling better?” He dropped his hand from her hair, but let one rest on her lower back in support.

“Feeling gross,” she shot back, causing Jake to chuckle at how she somehow managed to have a good comeback even during a crisis. “But I guess also better…” She continued, putting down the now empty glass,

“Good. Lets get you to bed then. It’s just down the hall.”

Another frown and groan told Jake that his friend was all but agreeing with his demands - not that this was any surprise to him. Amy Santiago was and would always be the no to his yes. As simple and as complicated as that. “No, just leave me here. The floor is nice and cold. If I get up, I’ll just die.”

“You’re an idiot, Santiago,” Jake pushed himself off the bathroom floor, placing his hands on his hips in a knowing matter and looking down at the beautiful mess that was his sick partner. “Not only for thinking that a stupid hangover can kill you, but also for thinking that I’ll just leave you here.”

“But I don’t wan-“ her sentence was cut short, when she suddenly felt a pair of arms picking her up bridal style. All other thoughts, feelings and sickness suddenly seemed to clear. Apparently resting tired and limp in Jake Peralta’s, arms as he carries you to bed, was a perfect cure against (too much) alcohol. Her head rested against his shoulder, too tired to bother hold it up, whilst his heart beat against her arm. Amy Santiago never thought her stupid, immature partner’s pulsing heart could put her to ease like it apparently did. Though she secretly hoped it could’ve lasted all night (or longer for that matter), she felt herself gently slip out of his arms and onto a soft, cold mattress. Next thing she knew, he’d pulled the covers back over her and was tugging her in like a father would his sick child. Though the mattress was cold, Amy could only notice the heat that was radiating from his body and smell the distant but present remains of his cologne. A smile spread across her pale face.

“Don’t smile just yet,” he smiled back down at her as he pushed back some strands of hair that escaped his embarrassment of a pony-tail. “You’ll be feeling even shittier in the morning.”

“I know,” the smile stayed stuck to her face even considering the awareness of her hungover fate.

“I’ll be right back,” he straightened back up before leaving the room, giving Amy a minute to turn onto her side and look at the empty space beside her. No one was going to lie there with her, but she wished someone would. Not only because 6-drink Amy felt very alone, but also because sober Amy had felt alone lately and she’d now finally realised just who she wanted to make her feel less so. After all the good and (many) bad times they’d been through, Amy had to admit that there really wasn’t anybody else but him who could make her feel less alone.

“I’m back with dessert,” she heard him enter the room and immediately turned back around to face him. “A fresh glass of water and the strongest pain-killer Charles could find. Enjoy.”

Though she mostly wanted to just… not ingest anything at all, she knew that Jake was just trying to take care of her and was actually right. She would definitely appreciate the water and medicine in the morning. So without too much complaining, Amy swallowed both the water and pill before sinking back down into the comfort of the bed.

“Great job. What a champ,” he jokingly praised as he grabbed the empty glass from her and placed it on the bedside table. He looked back at her, still smiling even though he was obviously more than exhausted himself. “I think my deed here is done. I’ve placed a bucket by your bed along with a clean towel.” He pushed himself off the edge of the bed as to stand up and leave.

“Jak-“ her voice was small and didn’t make it through the strong volume of his.

“If you need anything, I’ll be in the bedroom next door,” he started making his way towards to the door, but halted when he noticed her calling out his name.”

“Jake.”

He spun around, looking at her with soft eyes and expecting a duty. “Yeah?”

“Could you… Would you mind sleeping in here? With me, I mean.”

Though the room was dark, she noticed his eyes widening in surprise. The bad or good kind? She had no idea and it made her want to throw up all over again.

“Uh- Yeah,” he shook his head upon realising how reluctant he sounded. “Of course.”

Seconds later, Amy felt the duvet on his side being lifted and soon after the mattress dipping beneath the weight of his body. A whole new feeling that she hoped wouldn’t be a one-time occurrence. She turned around in the bed, only to see that he’d already positioned himself to face her. They were now face to face, and Jake could see her brown eyes burning in the night. The hair-tie had given up and slipped out of her hair a long time ago, allowing it to fall down her shoulder and cheek like soft waves of pure black gold. For a few moments, neither said anything but just looked at the other. They were both taking it all in: the unbelievable moment and feelings that came rushing back from their hiding place behind the hopeless pining.

“Is this okay?” He asked carefully, wondering whether or not he was lying too close to her, when he felt her knees accidentally stroke his.

“Yeah,” she breathed out. “For you?”

“Yeah,” he mirrored her, adding a nod.

“Thank you for doing this. Taking care of me and staying and all… You didn’t have to.”

His lips curled into a small smile, telling her that he was relaxing. “That’s where you’re wrong, Amy Santiago. Good partners always have each other’s backs. Through thick, thin and barf.”

Right there, upon hearing her chuckle at his comment, Jake could’ve died and gone to heaven. He could die a happy man, lying right next to his stupid beautiful partner in crime. A comfortable silence swallowed them, telling Jake that the woman probably wanted to sleep. He (against his will) closed his eyes and tried to ignore his insane heartbeat that kept him awake. After a few moments, he suddenly felt himself coming down from his high when suddenly the small body beside him scooted closer. Automatically, without even thinking twice, he lifted his arm as to welcome her inside. An implicit acceptance of this, in the form of Amy Santiagos chest pressing up against his and her face was buried in the safety of his necks crook, let him know that his body had made the right choice. Another silence fell over them as she settled into him and he in the meantime stroked back her hair with his already lifted hand. Her temple was now exposed like he wanted it to be, allowing him to place a comforting kiss to it. It was long, warm and tender, making Amy feel completely whole and safe in the moment. The feeling of his lips eventually vanished only to be replaced by the almost just as comforting feeling of his arms closing around her and his head resting on top of hers like a crown. She gently returned the favour by pecking his neck before settling back down in the crook.

“Sorry if my breath smells like barf…” she mumbled into the sensitive skin, sending shivers of happiness down his spine. She could feel his chest momentarily strike hers, when a chuckle was formed before escaping his lips.

“It doesn’t bother me.”

#I love you x Peraltiago #Peraltiago #Jake x Amy #Jake and Amy #brooklyn nine nine #B99 #Jake Peralta #Amy Santiago #peraltiago fanfiction #jake x amy fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #prompt #Andy Samberg #melissa fumero

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dontjudgemepeepswrites · 5 years

Text

The 9-8 ~ S3 Ep15

Just pretend that the entire thing with Stevie didn't happen.

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

y/n - your name

y/s/n - your surname

y/f/n - your full name

y/e/c - your eye colour

y/n/n - your nickname

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

*Jakes pov*

"Are you serious? We have to share the already cramped bullpen with another precinct?" I ask, not believing what I'm hearing.

"Yes. And you will all behave," Holt says, as monotonously as ever. This is gonna suck. And I'm gonna have to have a desk buddy. Ugh.

"As long as they don't touch our microwave, we're good," Hitchcock (unhelpfully) inputs. I can practically hear Rosa's eyes rolling.

*when the 98 arrive*

"Here they are. The 9-8. Anyone got any info?" I ask, the rest of the 99 behind me.

"I do." I don't think I need to mention who even answers my question.

"Why am I not surprised, Ames? What ya got?"

"Pretty much that they're all lazy and unorganised. I went through some of their reports and most are worse than yours."

"Ouch."

"Except for one detective, Detective y/f/n. They singlehandedly took down a major drug case. But that's not all, I'm not sure which is better, but they also helped take down Colin the Cereal Killer AND have a binder filled with every case they've ever solved!"

"Did you say Colin the Cereal Killer?! The guy who left no fingerprints or weapons at his crime scenes, only empty cereal boxes?! That Colin the Cereal Killer?! I call dibs on having them as my desk buddy!"

"Too late, I already called dibs. Besides, you didn't talk about the binder!"

"Amy, you're the only one who cares about it," Rosa inputs.

"She's not wrong," is one of the many responses Rosa gets, all agreeing with her.

"You guys don't know real fun then," Amy 'sasses'.

"Why is there a party in the break room? Get back to work. Now," Holt says, interrupting our conversation/argument about y/n. "Except for you, Diaz. Come with me."

*Rosa's pov*

I follow Holt, not saying anything. We arrive in his office in which stands a man who I assume is the 98's captain and a detective.

"Detective Diaz, this is Detective y/s/n. You will be partners while the 98 is working here," Holt explains.

"Hi, I'm Rosa," is all I say.

"y/n, glad to be working with you, Detective Diaz," they politely respond.

"I've chosen you to work with Detective y/s/n as Amy would freak out about the binder, Jake would drive them away, and so would Charles."

"Understandable. What's our case?" I ask.

"You don't have one yet. You both have the rest of the day off to try and get to know each other."

"Ok. What do you wanna do?" I ask y/n.

"Go to Shaw's Bar?" they reply, asking if I'm alright with it.

"Sure. We taking your car?"

"I've only got a motorbike."

"Cool, so've I. What type?" I ask.

"An Indian FTR 1200."

"Holy crap."

"You wanna drive it?"

"Yes! I mean sure," I say, a smile falling onto my face for a millisecond.

"Get going then?"

"Sure."

My desk partner and I are gonna get on well, I can already tell.

*Jake's pov*

"What are they saying?" I ask Amy, hoping her lip reading skill will come in handy.

"Holt's assigned y/n to Rosa! Why wouldn't he assign me, I'm the best detective in the precinct!" Amy exclaims, shocked.

"Are you though?" Charles asks, wheeling his office chair over, giving Amy a look and putting his hand out for me to fistbump (which I obviously accept).

"His words, not mine."

"Hey, Santiago, Peralta, Boyle, this is Detective y/f/n. They're my partner while the 98 are here," Rosa introduces.

"Hey, it's nice to meet you all. You must be Amy, Jake and Charles. Captain Holt's told me all about you guys."

"What did he say?" Amy asks, an expression of fear arriving at her face.

"Well, he said that you, Amy, are a neat freak and will freak out about my binder, he said that Jake is a childish, big headed yet big hearted idiot and that Charles has a... way with words, and a peculiar diet. However, he did also say that you were amazing detectives and it'd be awful without any of you."

"Yeah, what was it like when I went undercover in the mafia for 63 days? Was it boring?" I indiscreetly brag.

"It was awful, JP, terrible," Charles announces.

"63 days in the mafia, you say? Impressive, but not quite a year with basically the equivalent of Hydra. I've seen some things."

"That's so cool," I gasp in awe, not even caring that I just got one upped.

"I'm just gonna ask what you guys are all thinking. How did you catch Colin the Cereal Killer?" Rosa bluntly asks.

"I got all of the cereal boxes he left at the crime scenes and noticed either a dot or a dash at the bottom of them, so I put all of the same cereal boxes together and it was, clearly, morse code. It took a while as there was no way to figure out the order of the Cereal boxes or exactly what letter it was, but I managed to decode it to an address, which happened to be his favourite bar. So, I went undercover to try and find out some information about him from locals and the owners. I eventually found him and went on a 'date' with him to make sure it really was him. Then I arrested him."

"And how old were you when you did that?" I ask.

"When I first became a detective so... when I was 21."

"21?!" we all scream at once, causing the other detectives to stare at us. One of them even stopped talking and getting china models out to glare at us.

"Yeah," they mumble, looking at their watch. "Hey, we should get going, Rosa. You ready?"

"Sure. We'll see you losers later," Rosa states, walking away with y/n.

"They're amazing."

*y/n's pov*

*at Shaw's bar*

"Hey, Rosa?" I ask to grab her attention.

"Mhm?" she says, acknowledging what I said.

"Do you think I'd be a good fit at the precinct?"

"Definitely. Everyone likes you. Why?"

"Because I want to transfer precincts. The 98 Captain's already given me permission, I just need to find a precinct and we all got on so well back at the precinct. I've never had a conversation like that at the 98, they're all jerks and it's nice to be with people who'll listen and give some useful input."

"Debatable, but then again, you haven't met Hitchcock and Scully yet, so. And I'm sure we'd all love to have you join."

"Thanks Rosa. I'll get some transfer papers and ask the rest of the 99."

"You don't need to."

"Why not?"

"Because we all like you. And you have both mine and Holt's seal of approval, you're definitely good. Just apply. In fact, don't tell the others and surprise them. They'll love it."

"Ok. I trust you. I'll get the papers ASAP. I can't wait.

"Just a heads up, you'd probably have to work in a desk opposite Boyle."

"Does he just talk about Jake loads?"

"Yeah. But if you start talking about him to Boyle, Boyle won't stop bugging you for a while."

"Tell me about the rest of the squad."

"Amy, as you know, neat freak and is obsessed with binders. She's also Jake's ex. They broke up mutually, agreeing that it was effecting the work environment for everyone, but they're friends and it's not awkward. Jake is a very childish detective. He's quite sarcastic too. And smart but dumb at the same time. He's very messy and gets a lot of ants in his desk since there's so much food that he never threw away. Speaking of food, let's move on to Boyle. He eats a lot of weird food and is a food fanatic. He even has a weekly email newsletter rating pizza places. And he has a category for mouth feel."

"Mouth feel?"

"Yup. He also says a lot of stuff that unintentionally makes people uncomfortable and will mention his 'buttholes'. Long story short, he saved my life by getting shot in the butt. Hitchcock and Scully. You've not met them yet and you'll soon wish you never did. Sergeant Terry Jeffords, he was out of field for a while but is back now. All you really need to know is that he loves yoghurt. A lot. He won't let you even touch it. Then we have Gina. Holt's assistant and a phone fanatic. She originally got a job here because her and Jake grew up together. She insults Amy a lot but she's cool. And finally, Captain Raymond Holt. We get on well, never discussing feelings. He just got back after being promoted to head of PR. But then he just came back one day and no one knows why."

"This is all a lot to process at once. I'm gonna guess that people don't know lots about you then?"

"Nope."

"Ok."

"Wait, you're not gonna try and pry information out of me?"

"No, why would I?"

"Everyone else normally tries to. I appreciate that you respect my life choices."

"No problem. Want another beer?"

"No thanks. We should get going, it's getting late. Wanna crash at mine? It's close."

"Sure."

*The next day*

Rosa and I walk into the bullpen together, me laughing at something she said. Everyone turns to me, wondering why I'm laughing.

"What?" I ask. "It was a funny joke."

"Rosa told a joke?" Amy asks, seeming surprised.

"Is that not normal?"

"No!" gets yelled simultaneously by the 99 workers.

"You want to see them get freaked out?" Rosa asks me, smirking. Oh no.

"Ok," my mouth disobeys.

"They crashed at my place last night." After Rosa says this, everyone stares at me with their jaws literally dropped.

"You guys should close your mouths. After all, we wouldn't want you to swallow flies, would we?" I sass, taking the opportunity that was handed to me on a silver platter.

"I know three things about Rosa, and one of those things is that she does NOT let people crash at he place. Are you a hypnotist?!" Jake gawps.

"I must be, because y'all seem to be in a trance right now," I playfully respond, sending a playful wink Jake's way.

"Make way for their highness, Detective y/f/n," Gina announces, bowing down to me. I let out a small laugh at the interaction we all just had and Rosa and I make our way to Captain Holt's office and try to open the door, only to find that it's locked.

"Diaz, y/s/n," Holt's voice announces his presence behind us. "I apologise that we're not in my office but I've been locked out."

"Sorry, Captain. The Deputy Inspector does that a lot. Could we maybe go somewhere more private to speak though?"

"Somewhere where Amy can't read everyone's lips preferably."

"Of course. We can go to the roof. I'll lead the way."

*After a brisk walk to the roof*

"What did you want to talk about?"

"Sir, I was wondering if it was possible for me to transfer to this precinct. Permanently."

"Of course. We'd be delighted to have you join the team," Holt accepts.

"Thank you. But may I ask you a favour, please?"

"Of course. However I can't promise that I'll be able to fulfill it."

"All I ask is that you keep my transfer a secret. I'd love to see everyone's faces when they find out."

"If you wish."

"Also, could we maybe get a case to do?"

"Oh, of course. The case that I prepared for you two is a murder. I can't remember the address unfortunately. I think Gina has it though. I'll let you two get it." And with that we all walk back inside. What I see shocks me slightly.

"Detectives, Gina, what are you doing?" Holt asks.

"Huddling," Jake responds, his answer, however, sounding more like a question.

"Why?"

"We wanted to have one of those team talks like they have in the movies," Terry answers.

"Ok. But I suppose we should join then." Holt, Rosa and I join the huddle, however everyone seems hesitant.

"Do you want me to leave?" I ask, worried that something happened.

"No, you don't have to. Now continue your team talk Terry," Jake answers. Terry glares at Jake discreetly, but not discreet enough that it misses my detective eyes.

"Well, get out there today, and do the best you can. If you don't bring anyone in, don't worry! You tried your best, and that's all that matters. 99!" Terry says, yelling the last part, making me flinch slightly, alerting Jake next to me.

"99!" everyone yelled in reply and unhuddled.

"Hey, y/n, could I quickly talk to you?" Jake asks.

"Yeah, sure."

"Are you alright? What happened there? Why did you flinch?"

"It just surprised me, that's all," I lie.

"y/n, I'm a detective. I know your lying. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, I completely get it."

"Fine. But it's stupid. It's just that I've never really been a fan of shouting, and it was really sudden and sometimes my teacher in school would randomly go from a normal voice to yelling loads." Jake doesn't respond, he only pulls me into a hug.

"Oh y/n, it's not stupid. Of course it's not. I completely understand. Everyone here would."

"Thank you, JP. You don't mind me calling you that, right?"

"Go ahead."

"Thanks. Y'know, you're a really sweet guy."

"Hey, y/n. We should go. I got the address from Gina," Rosa informs me.

"Right. I'll see you later, JP," I say softly, giving him a kiss on the cheek and then walking away. Did we have a moment? I walk up to Rosa, ready to get going and I see a smirk on her face.

"So, you and Jake, huh?" she asks, bringing butterflies to my stomach. I roll my eyes, before a smile makes its way onto my face.

"Let's go, Rosa."

*At the crime scene*

"It looks like she was strangled. Look at the marks on her neck. And it looks like it was a piece of rope, if we're going based off of the marks. We need to try and find it. I'll check the bedroom and bathroom, you keep looking," I say to Rosa. She nods in reply.

I walk into the bedroom and start looking around. Rope, rope, rope. Aha! Under the bed. I start to inspect it, to make sure it was the right size when someone puts a bandanna in front of my neck and starts strangling me. Crap, this is terrifying. Wait, y/n, remember your training. I muster up all of my strength and push my foot back to kick them where the sun doesn't shine. My plan works and they let go, falling to the ground. I read them the Miranda Rights with a raspy voice, still short of breath and put them in handcuffs. I guide them back into the main room. Rosa hears the door opening and looks my way, immediately making her way over to me.

"Oh my god, are you ok? What happened?"

"Tried to strangle me... kicked her... arrested her."

"She tried to strangle you? I'm gonna kill you."

"We need to... interrogate... her first..."

"Go home, y/n. You need to rest. You're in shock and short of breath. I'll call the precinct."

"No, I'm fine... I'll... survive..."

"Fine. But only because I know that I won't be able to convince you otherwise. You're too stubborn for your own good, like me."

"Thanks. I... appreciate it... Let's go?"

"We're going to the station and I'm gonna make sure you get life in the most high security prison for life. You hear that, bitch?" she spits at the perp.

"Calm down, Rosa."

*At the precinct*

We arrive, ready to put the perp in the holding cell, only to find that everything's fallen to chaos.

"Oh for crying out loud. HEY! ALL OF YOU!" I yell, making everyone stop what they were doing. I get up on a desk so people an see and hear me better. "WHAT IS THIS ABOUT?! WE'RE MEANT TO BE CIVIL COPS, AND I RETURN FROM A MURDER SCENE, AT WHICH I WAS STRANGLED, TO SEE THIS! I'M DISAPPOINTED IN ALL OF YOU! APOLOGISE TO EACH OTHER! NOW!" I hear a murmur of apologies in reply, some people still wide-eyed at the concept that someone tried to strangle me. "Good. Now back to work, all of you," no one moves. "NOW!" Everyone sits back at their desks. "Sorry for standing on your desk, JP," I apologise, getting off.

"Someone tried to strangle you? Who? I'll rip their face off?!"

"Don't worry, Rosa's got it sorted and I got her before I got any major injuries. I was just short of breath for a bit.

"Oh, thank goodness. I am not strong enough to rip someone's face off," he jokes. I smile in return.

"Why did that fight start though?"

"Oh, someone that works for the 98 tried to take Gina's phone off her and it all escalated from there."

"Oh, that makes sense. But to be honest, just between you and me," I start, before motioning him closer and whispering in his ear, "everyone at the 98 is a bit of a dick." He laughs in response.

"y/s/n, may I talk to you for a minute? In private, I mean," Holt asks, taking me outside. "I have the papers you wanted and have signed all I need to, and got the 98 Captain to sign the parts he needed to. Now all we need is your signature," he informs me, after taking me back to the roof. I eagerly sign the papers and hand them to him. "Welcome to the 99." Call me Pinocchio, but I swear I saw a flicker of a smile on his face.

"It's an honour to join."

"By the way, after the incident today, the radiator broke, so the 98 is moving again. Today is supposed to be the last day that the 98 is here. You can figure out how you wish to play out the surprise, but Rosa and I will say nothing unless you ask us to."

"I only had a simple plan. I was only going to suggest that you introduce me as you would with any other detective. In briefing, announce that there will be a new detective and then I'll walk in."

"Brilliant idea, Detective. I'll see you in the morning. As your new captain, I order you to take the rest of the day off and rest. I imagine that it was quite traumatic, getting strangled by the victim's sister."

"She was her sister? That bitch! Did she murder her own sister?" I ask, my eyes wider than an oreo.

"Yes, she did. Rosa says that she confessed almost immediately. Rosa intimidated her that much."

"I'm not shocked."

"Oh, and take another detective with you. After all, you should get to know your new co-workers better."

"Thank you, sir." We both walk back inside and I go to say 'goodbye' to the detectives that work in the 99. "Bye, Sergeant. I hope we meet again one day."

"We'll miss you, y/n."

"Goodbye, Boyle. It's a shame I didn't get to know you more."

"It's been nice to meet you, y/n."

"Amy. Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure." She seems quite shocked that I'm asking to talk to her.

"Your Captain has given me permission to spend the rest of the day with a detective. Would you want the rest of the day off work and hang out at my place? I'll show you my binder."

"I'd love to!"

"Great! Let's get back to the others now, I have a few more people to say bye to." We walk back, Amy with a smile plastered on her face.

"Why're you so happy? Did a guy finally sleep with you?" Jake jokes.

"Bye, Jake. I'll hopefully stay in contact with you in some way."

"Where're you going?" he asks, confused.

"I've been ordered to go home and rest for the rest of the day and today's my last day at the precinct."

"Oh. Well, I wish the best for you. And, before you go, I was wondering..."

"What?"

"Never mind. It's nothing."

"Ok? I'll miss you JP." I once again kiss him on the cheek. "Bye Gina. We're still going to a Beyonce concert together one day, right?"

"You know it."

"y/n! y/n, I've just been told that I have to arrest this guy with Jake. Can I meet you at your place?"

"Sure! What's your number? I'll text you my address." She tells me her number. "Oh, I forgot to say bye to Rosa! I'll just say bye quickly. See you later, Ames."

"Bye, Rosa. I'll see you tomorrow."

"See ya, y/n."

"What do you mean 'see you tomorrow'?" Charles asks, obviously eavesdropping on the conversation.

"We're meeting up tomorrow, that's all," Rosa says in her normal voice. He looks at me for confirmation and I just nod.

"Alright, I'm actually going now. Bye everyone!"

"Bye!" everyone says in response. I step into the elevator. They have no idea, do they.

*Time skip*

I hear a buzz, indicating that someone wants to come in.

"Hello?" I ask.

"y/n? It's Amy."

"Hey Amy, come on up," I say, buzzing her in. I then hear a knock on the door. "Come in, Amy."

"Hey! Thanks for inviting me around."

"It's no problem! How was the arrest? Did you get them?"

"Yeah, but Jake seemed really bummed the entire time and whenever I asked why, he brushed it off."

"Oh. That's weird. He was going to say something to me when I was saying goodbye but then dismissed it. That must have been what was bugging him. Unless something's happened in an hour and a bit."

"That must've been it because I was with him straight after he talked to you and he looked like he was gonna cry and/or punch himself in the face. Do you have any idea what he was gonna say?"

"No. He just said 'I was wondering' and then 'never mind'. It could've been anything really." I say this, however I hope that he was gonna ask me out.

"You like Jake?!"

"No! Where did you get that idea from?!"

"You just said it."

"Did I?"

"Yes. You said 'I hope that he was gonna ask me out'."

"Crap. Fine, I like him, but I'm not expecting anything to happen, don't worry."

"Why would I worry?"

"Because Rosa said you two went out and it's weird to go out with your friend's ex."

"y/n, it's fine. If anything ever happens with you two, I won't mind. We've both moved on and it was mutual."

"Thanks Ames, but I still doubt anything would ever happen. That's just my luck with love: I'm about as lucky as someone who walked underneath a ladder on Friday the 13th who opened their umbrella inside and put new shoes on a table. Anyway, wanna see my binder?"

"I'd be honoured."

"Also, no one's ever seen inside it other than me so don't tell anyone what you see in here. Some of the cases in here and beyond imagination. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes."

"Ok then. Here we go..." but just as I'm about to open the binder, Amy's phone goes off. She looks at her phone and then me.

"It's Charles."

"Answer it." She sighs and accepts the FaceTime.

"What do you want, Boyle? I'm a bit busy so this better be important." While she says this, I mouth 'don't tell him I'm here' and I know she'll understand because of her lip-reading skill.

"Yes, it's very important, Amy. Jake's having a crisis!"

"About what?"

"y/n." My eyes widen at the mention of my name.

"What about y/n?"

"He was gonna ask them out when they said goodbye but backed out last minute. He's so mad at himself and scared and upset that he'll never see them again to tell them how he feels. It's awful! We have to find them!"

"I've found them," I say, alerting Charles of my presence.

"Oh... hi y/n. How much of that did you hear?"

"All of it. Is that why he was so bummed when he was with Amy?"

"Yes."

"Charles, get Jake on the call but whatever you do, you can't let him know that I'm with Amy. I need to hear this from Jake himself."

"Fine. But you owe me; I hate lying to Jake."

"I'll get you a free meal at a Gordon Ramsay restaurant."

"Deal. I'll call you back in a few minutes, and I'll have Jake." And with that, he hangs up. Amy stares at me and gives me a look.

"What?"

"It looks like your luck with love has turned upside down." And cue blush.

"Amy, I need a favour. Do not get me in frame at all in this call. I'm going to listen and that's all. Jake cannot know that I've heard his confession.

"Ok? I won't question it. I trust you." Amy's phone starts ringing again. "It's Charles."

"Damn, I'm terrified, Ames." Amy answers the call, making sure that only she is in view of the camera.

"Hey, Jake. So Charles tells me you have y/n related problems," Amy says casually.

"Yup. I hate myself for not asking them out when I had the opportunity. Especially since I'm never going to see them again."

"Have you tried watching Die Hard while eating take out?"

"Yup. It's not helped. I just keep thinking that I'm an idiot and can't focus. They'd never like me anyway. I mean, I'm a messy mess. Literally and figuratively." I so badly want to scream 'I like you, you dork,' but I manage to control myself.

"Dang, what's happened to you, Peralta? You never get this hung up over someone. You must really like them, despite only knowing them for 2 days."

"Yup. There's something about them that draws me to them. Maybe it's their amazing y/e/c eyes, and the way they glimmer in the light. Or the fact that they can gather everyone's attention by using their charm, immediately making others fascinated and draw them in. Everything about them is perfect. And the two times when they kissed my cheek, I went insane inside, but I now that it was a friendly gesture."

"Jake, listen. I don't want to make you more upset, but you never know unless you try. I mean, think about it: every relationship started by one person asking out another. And it's not like it would be awkward if they said no: they're not our co-worker, you probably won't see them again."

I quickly send a text to Amy because I can tell what she's about to do. The text reads 'You can't tell him that you have my number. I'll tell you why soon.' Amy quickly reads the text and sighs.

"So, at least, now you know for next time. Now, try going to sleep. That might help."

"Fine. I'll see you tomorrow, Ames. I guess this kinda helped."

"Bye."

"Bye." Amy hangs up.

"y/n, I need an explanation. Now."

"Fine. The truth is, I'm transferring to the 99. I'm gonna talk to him tomorrow. This was all supposed to be a surprise but now there's tea."

"That makes more sense. But anyway, let's look in that binder."

"Let's do it."

And we don't talk about the precinct for the rest of the night and Amy crashes in my spare room.

*The next morning*

Amy's already at the precinct and I'm about to leave. I'm terrified. How's everyone gonna react? How's Jake gonna react? Ugh. The relationship drama has really given this a new, bad twist. It's time to leave now. I'm not ready. Then again, when will I ever be ready for something like this?

*At the precinct*

I'm outside the briefing room, out of everyone's eyesight, waiting for my cue.

"And to conclude our briefing, we have a new detective. Please, come on in. Everyone, be nice to them and make them feel welcome," Holt introduces.

I step into the briefing room, all eyes on me and am presented by everyone wearing a shocked face (except for Rosa, Holt and Amy).

"Hi," I say to break the silence. Suddenly there's an eruption of cheers, making me flinch again. Then a crowd of people sprint at me and pull me into a group hug.

"Hey guys, yeah, I work here now. And, uh, could you maybe not scream like that, please. It just reminds me of something from when I was younger. And Charles, you're hugging too tight." Everyone backs away and apologises profusely. "Don't worry, guys. You didn't know. Don't feel bad."

"Detective y/s/n talked to Detective Diaz on the first day the 98 were here about transferring and we did the papers yesterday. Detective y/s/n is now a detective for the 99," Holt explains. "They wanted it to be a surprise. However, I see that Detective Santiago knew as well. Did you tell her, y/n?"

"Yes, sir. There were unforeseen occurrences last night that lead up to me telling her."

"Ah, I see. Now, briefing over. You are all dismissed." Everyone gets up and to their desks while I walk over to the captain.

"Sir, which desk is mine?" I ask.

"The desk opposite Detective Boyle."

"Thank you."

As I walk over to my desk, I see Jake pull Amy aside and make a mental note to ask Amy about it later. I take a look at Jake. He doesn't look alright.

"Hey, Charles, is JP alright?" I ask, concerned.

"Honestly, I don't think so. He got no sleep last night, and he got here early. Early. That never happens. He's always fashionably late."

"Interesting."

"Detective y/s/n, I need you and Detective Santiago to go on a stake out. It won't be very long, don't worry. We've had a tip off that a huge drug deal is going on this morning. Not sure why they're doing it in the day, must be imbeciles."

"Of course, sir. We'll get going ASAP." I start heading over to Amy and Jake so we can get going for the stake out.

"Hey, Ames. Holt needs us to go on a stake out this morning, a huge drug deal's going down. We need to get going. Hey, JP. How are ya? Did you get any sleep last night? You look like you could fall asleep at any moment." I ask, pretending that I have no idea what they were talking about.

"I'm good thanks. I just stayed up all night trying to figure out a case."

"Cool! Did you solve it?"

"No."

"Oh. Well, you better get some sleep in. You may be able to sneak a few naps in here and there today," I say, only half joking, putting a wink in at the end.

"I'm glad you're working here, y/n. You're really gonna add something to the team," he says, not so subtly adding the second part in in a panic.

"It's gonna be so fun, I already know. I'd love to stay and chat, but I gotta go. See ya later, JP."

"Bye y/n/n." y/n/n. I like that.

*On the stake out*

"I've not done a stake out in so long, I'm quite happy to be doing one again. Especially since you're not a dick like the detectives in the 98," I say. Amy laughs in response. "Hey, Ames. What specifically were you and JP talking about before I came over?"

"He wants to ask you out but is afraid that the relationship will end like mine and his did."

"Oh, ok. Understandable. If he asks again, tell him to just go for it. If he doesn't ask me, I'll ask him. At the end of the day, we won't know unless we try."

"That's good advice to live by."

"It's also risky. I'm honestly surprised I'm still alive." Amy laughs again in response. "There's movement. Eyes on the drugs, let's go, Ames." Amy and I get in and arrest the parties involved. No one really puts up a fight, surprisingly. We take them to the station, along with the drugs.

"Can I write the report? I love writing reports," Amy asks.

"Sure. Go crazy. I'm gonna talk to Jake."

"Good luck. If he blushes, take a picture for me for blackmail."

"Will do." I walk over to Jake, who's playing snake (really badly) on his computer. "That's a very interesting report, JP." As soon as Jake hears my voice, he closes snake and turns his office chair to face me.

"Hey, y/n, what's up? Yeah, my reports are going amazing."

"Can I talk to you? In private? Please?"

"Sure." He takes me to the evidence room, so we can speak with no one hearing us. "What's up?"

"Is it true that you like me? As in, like-like?"

"Pfft, what gives you that idea?"

"Charles said it last night and you said it to Amy when I was right next to her last night."

"That was your apartment? Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool. Not a problem. Hey, was that Captain Holt? We should go."

"Jake. I'm serious."

"Ok, fine. I like you, but I get that you just want to be friends."

"And where did you hear that?"

"My brain."

"Well, my brain says that your brain is wrong and that I like-like you too."

"Oh. Listen, y/n, as much as I want this to happen, it didn't work out with me and Amy, so it probably won't work out with us."

"I'm not Amy though. And we won't know unless we try. It's a risk I'm willing to take." Instead of saying anything, Jake just kisses me in response.

"Let's take the risk then."

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