#b99 fic

[bossyladies]

✧ ֢ ( 🗽 👮‍♀️ ) ۪ ׂ   SOMETHING UNPREDICTABLE  ──── Brooklyn 99

✧ ֢ ( 🗽 👮‍♀️ ) ۪ ׂ   tag: @samwilsonns  @stardustocs @starlit-ocs @allaboutocs @ocs-supporting-ocs @ocappreciationtag @ocappreciation @oc-challenges @queerocs @foxesandmagic @fyeahstrangerthingsocs @hiddenqveendom   @iloveocs   @anotherocsblog

[sambergscott]

we hide our emotions under the surface and try to pretend

after two seasons without a proposal, all eyes - including the infamous lady whistledown of london’s preeminent gossip column - are on amy santiago. jake peralta, a new duke, has no intention to ever wed, though that doesn’t stop the marriage-minded society mothers convinced they can change his mind. to deflect attention, jake and amy form a pretend attachment. not falling for each other becomes harder than either of them thought. a bridgerton au.

ao3 version here

chapter 2: i’m dying just to know your name

It has been whispered to this author that Tedford Wells was seen purchasing a diamond solitaire ring at Genevieve Mirren-Cartier’s exclusive Mayfair boutique. Can a new Mrs. Wells be far behind?

(LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 28, April 1813)

The long line of carriages in the driveway almost made Jake bolt.

There must’ve been at least a hundred, each carriage containing a girl in a puffy gown and her overzealous mother fussing over her. Jake wasn’t stupid. He knew that his father’s death and his subsequent promotion to be Duke had turned him into the most eligible bachelor in town (not his words; the headline of some salacious gossip column his maids had been reading at breakfast caught his eye) and that any truly ambitious mama in London would want a word.

He’d been in a surprisingly good mood all day. The weather was fine, he would soon be reunited with an old childhood friend and — best of all — his absentee father was finally dead. However, just like his father the moment he was born, Jake’s good mood had vanished.

He did not want to be an eligible bachelor.

He did not want to get married.

No, not ever.

Not even if it was to the Queen of England.

He knew the mothers would just roll their eyes and label him a total rake, but one they could reform in no time. And had he met their daughter? It would be awful.

Out of loyalty to the evening’s host – the honourable Lady Jeffords, who’d always been rather nice to him as a child – he swallowed his pride and snuck around the back entrance. He’d quickly show his face and then slip away to his new home, avoiding as much attention as possible.

Having played hide and seek with the Jeffords’ twins a million times in his youth and beating Cagney – or Lacey, he could never tell them apart – every time, he navigated the back corridors of their home with a familiar ease. Two lefts and he would reach the servant’s entrance to the ballroom. With the orchestral music growing louder and louder, he braced himself for the swarm, turned the penultimate corner and froze.

Voices.

Angry voices.

The first belonged to a man, blundering his way through the worst proposal of the 1800s.

The second belonged to the unlucky lady.

“We have all the same interests,” the man said. “We have so much chemistry.  It’s like no matter where we are, we’re at a musicale.”

Jake scrunched up his nose in disgust. Musicales were terrible. None of the girls could ever sing and they had the awful effect of leaving one with a throbbing headache – and not the good kind that follows a night of nice wine.

“I do not want to marry you,” the woman hissed. “And I hate musicales.”

Jake pursed his lips, trying not to laugh.

“All I want is to make you my wife,” he pleaded.

“I do not want the same.”

“What will it take for you to change your mind?”

“Nothing. Nothing will change my mind.”

“If you don’t like the ring—.”

“It’s not about the stupid ring,” she snapped, breaking several codes of etiquette. “You’re just—,” Jake could imagine her waving her hands, trying to find the right word to capture her indifference towards him, “boring”.

Again, he struggled not to laugh out loud.

“May I remind you that you are into your second season and I am the first and only to offer my hand? If you don’t marry me, who else will have you?”

“I’m sure there is someone out there for me,” the lady sniffed.

Of course, Jake thought sourly, she was one of those romantic types. No wonder she was unmarried. If she was looking for true love, she’d never find it. It was simply a concept, a nice idea in a story. It wasn’t real.

The thud of a body hitting the wall interrupted his thoughts.

Jake launched into action, unafraid to tear the creep away from her, to remind him that she had said no. But before a single word had come out, the lady in question pushed him off her with an almighty force, clenched her fist and knocked him out.

A laugh finally escaped Jake’s lips.

Her head jerked towards him and she sprung to her feet. She opened and closed her mouth helplessly, no doubt afraid that he would call the police. Or worse, that stupid gossip column.

But all Jake could think was that she was beautiful. Maybe the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. No wonder the man was so desperate to marry her.

When she finally found her voice, she asked the exact question on his own lips.

“Who are you?”

--

She’d never seen him before.

And since she’d had the unfortunate duty of being introduced to every gentleman in town, the stranger’s presence meant only two things:

he was an imposter

he was already wed and had got lost on the way back to his wife.

She immediately dismissed the latter. There was no way this man — certainly the most handsome man she’d ever soon — could have been in London long without everyone and their mother knowing his name.

Plus, she noticed with a blush, he was not wearing a ring.

“I’m Jake,” he said, reaching out his ringless hand.

She shook it politely, even though she wanted to scream Jake who!?!??! Maybe he was married and having an affair and didn’t want it to get out that he was here. And while she did not want to entangle herself in such a scandalous matter (punching a man after rejecting his proposal was scandalous enough for one night), she heard herself say “Amy” before she was aware the word had even slipped out.

What was she thinking? If Lady Whistledown — or worse, her mother — caught wind of this, her name would be tarnished for the rest of her days. She’d surely have to flee the country, far away from the gossiping ladies of the ton.

On the floor, Mr. Wells groaned in pain.

Right. The other scandal.

“I did not mean to hit you so hard,” she squeaked, crouching next to him to examine his head.

“Of course you meant it.” The response came from above her. From Jake. “The bothersome toad wouldn’t leave you alone. Great punch, by the way.”

She glanced over her shoulder and the man was smiling. Smiling. Did he not realise her reputation was in tatters? She’d punched a man! “I don’t even know how to punch. And I certainly didn’t intend to knock him out. It just happened.”

“Of course you didn’t,” he nodded sagely, his tone laced with sarcasm.

“I didn’t.” She shot him a withering glare, one she’d perfected growing up with seven brothers.

Jake’s eyes sparkled, undeterred. “Have you ever considered boxing? You’ve clearly got one hell of a punch.”

“I’ll punch you in a minute,” she muttered under her breath.

He grinned, crouching down beside her. His arm brushed hers and her cheeks went up in flames. It was ridiculous; no man had ever had this effect on her before.

She swallowed thickly, averting her gaze back to Mr. Wells. He was clearly disoriented and a bruise was already forming on his chin. “What are we to do about him?”

“We? You think I will abandon my evening plans to become your accomplice?”

“That’s exactly what I think,” she nodded.

He sighed, but within a minute had devised an elaborate plan. He was to summon a carriage while she hid in the library. He would return for Amy once Mr Wells was ready for transport and Jake would take him home.

It wasn’t her favourite plan. For starters, being found in the Jeffords’ library without invitation was a scandal in itself, a minor infraction compared to assault, but a scandal that Whistledown would lick her lips at nonetheless.

And while she may pack a punch, she did not possess the muscles to be carrying a grown man.

And, frankly, her least favourite aspect of the plan was that it ended in Jake leaving early.

She had secretly wished he would want to dance with her at the ball. Even if it were only one night before he returned to his wife the next morning.

But she apparently had no choice in the matter. Jake pulled her to her feet and ushered her to the library before she could even speak.

“See you soon,” he whispered, winking at her before shutting the door between them.

And then she was alone, with no idea how long he would be.

She traced her finger along the spine of a book, figuring that reading would be a good way to pass the time. She wandered up and down the aisles, finally selecting a book on art history. She sat on a stool and opened it to the first page.

The words were nothing more than a blur.

She stared at it resolutely, willing herself to concentrate. She managed a sentence and then remembered his dark, curly hair. She narrowed her eyes, re-reading the sentence again and then thought of his charming smile. On her fourth re-read, she remembered the way his eyes sparkled as he teased her and gave up the pointless attempt of trying to get another further.

She was a good reader, and a firm lover of art history, but at this juncture her brain couldn’t focus on anything but him.

“You ready?” He suddenly popped his head round the door.

Startled, she dropped the book from her lap.

He rushed across the library and bent down on one knee to retrieve it.

When Tedford Wells had assumed a similar position not half an hour earlier, she was repulsed. She knew instantly that she would decline. But with Jake, though she knew nothing of him, a thought came over her that she’d rather like to say yes.

“Art history?” He queried, raising one brow as he handed the book back to her.

“Yes, I’m rather fond of the subject,” she responded as she placed it back on its shelf.

“And did you learn anything new?”

“I don’t remember,” she lied. “I didn’t read much, anyway. You were rather quick.”

“When a duke asks for a carriage immediately, one tends not to argue.”

A what?

Amy spun around to face him, her mouth falling open.

Blood drained from his face. “I did not mean to say so much,” he moaned.

But it was too late, because now she knew of his title, she knew of only one Jake — or Jacob — he could be.

“You’re the Duke of Hastings,” she squeaked.

“I — uh — yes,” he sighed, closing his eyes as if the admission pained him.

And it pained her, too, because his transformation from handsome stranger to her eldest brother’s best friend, a well-known rake and now a Duke, left him strictly off limits.

“I’m a Santiago,” she revealed, since they were being honest. His eyes popped open. “And both my mother and brother would have a seizure if they knew I were alone with you.”

The duke blinked several times. “And why is that?”

“They forbade me from ever being seen in your company.”

“Really?” His lips curved into a slow smile. “But I have been away for six years.”

“Your reputation precedes you,” she explained.

“And what,” his voice dropped to a husky timbre, “do you think they would make of this? You… me… alone in this library…”

“I imagine they would not approve,” she replied, trying to keep her cool. “So, shall we see to Mr Wells?”

--

Still lying in the spot they left him, it seemed their plan would work after all.

They managed to haul the man to his feet and drape his arms over their shoulders as they shuffled to the carriage outside. The night had begun to close in, Jake reassured her as they helped Mr. Wells into his seat, and if anyone had spotted the three figures from a window, it would certainly be too dark to identify them.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” she murmured, tucking her hair behind both ears. “Without you I would have been toast.”

“It was my pleasure,” he grinned. “Best ball I’ve ever been to.”

“But you never actually went to the ball,” she pointed out.

“Exactly.”

“Would you like to?” She asked shyly after a beat. “Go to the ball? With me?”

His eyes widened. He glanced at Mr. Wells slumped over in his carriage, then back at her. A moment later he sent the footman on his way. “Shall we?”

“We shall,” she positively beamed, slipping her hand through the crook of his arm and letting him lead her back to the ball.

[sambergscott]

we hide our emotions under the surface and try to pretend

after two seasons without a proposal, all eyes - including the infamous lady whistledown of london's preeminent gossip column - are on amy santiago. jake peralta, a new duke, has no intention to ever wed, though that doesn't stop the marriage-minded society mothers convinced they can change his mind. to deflect attention, jake and amy form a pretend attachment. not falling for each other becomes harder than either of them thought. a bridgerton au.

shoutout as always to miss caroline (now @daniallricciardo​​) for all her help and encouragement and miss hannah @captainsantiagos​ whose amazing video inspired the title <3 love u both and see y’all NEXT WEEK 

chapter 1: rumour has it

The Santiagos are by far the most prolific family in the upper echelons of society. The sight of the viscountess and all eight of her children in one room is enough to make one fear one is seeing double. Never has This Author seen a collection of siblings so ludicrously alike in their physical regard. There are, however, advantages to siring a family of such consistent looks - there can be no doubt that all eight are of legitimate parentage. Ah, Dear Reader, your devoted Author wishes that were the case amid all large families…

(LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 26 April 1813)

Camila Santiago crumpled the single-page newspaper and hurled it across the room. For the third week in a row, her children had been featured in London’s most popular gossip column. As a viscountess, she was used to a certain level of whispering behind her back, but this was becoming ridiculous. How would she ever find one respectable partner — let alone eight — with this Whistledown airing their dirty laundry to everyone and their mother?

Sensing danger, her first and only daughter Amy, who bore the brunt of the pressure to be married, wisely remained quiet, pretending to be engrossed in her book.

“You ought to be more upset about this,” Camila frowned as she plucked it right out of her hands. “You do want to find a husband, don’t you?”

Amy fought the urge to roll her eyes. After a disastrous first season ended without a single proposal, it was imperative that she was married off this year — and everyone knew it. Literally, everyone. At every single event. In every single town. If one more person shot her a sympathetic smile, or worse, asked her the dreaded “any luck yet?” question, she would scream. Which would be wholly unladylike, but what else could a girl do?

Once the diamond of the season, now a diamond in the rough, Whistledown had written of her just one week earlier. Amy could only imagine the headlines if she failed again. She’d never be able to show her face outside her chambers.

“Yes Mother,” she responded regardless, knowing what she wanted to hear.

And while she really did want a husband, the prospect  of spending one’s life with a man one did not care for was most unappealing. It’s not like she expected to find a True Love Match like the characters in her book; she wasn’t completely foolish. But was it really too much to hope for a husband she had at least an iota of affection for?

She didn’t think so.

“And how do you suppose you’ll do that, what with your name popping up in Lady Whistledown every two days?”

“The men hardly even read it,” Amy deflected, though she knew it did not matter.

“Their mothers do, Amy!” Camila fired back, her voice near fever pitch.

Amy could only roll her eyes. “If Whistledown was the only issue, how do you account for my lack of prospects last year before she started publishing?”

Camila opened and closed her mouth like her youngest son trying to come up with a reason he should be allowed an extra helping of dessert.

“Exactly.” She snatched back her book, leaving her mother floundering to find an explanation. She knew Camila loved her dearly — Amy’s portrait sitting proudly atop the piano while her brothers were resigned to the stairs was evidence of the fact — but she yearned for the days before she reached marriageable age, before Camila had become one of those Mamas she’d always complained of.

“It’s not only that,” Camila continued her rant, “she cast aspersions on myself and your father.” As much as she hated her children being the subjects of society gossip, she hated Victor being dragged into it more. She personally blacklisted one well-known lady and a former friend after she overheard her discussing whether her husband’s love of Cuban rum had been the true cause of his early demise. With a shake of her head, she added, “She shouldn’t have even brought it up.”

“As the author of a scandal sheet, I believe it is her job to bring it up.”

Camila tutted and Amy knew what was coming next. “I don’t like your tone,” she chastised on cue.

It was a familiar line to all eight Santiago children, their mother using it often. At this point, it only made them laugh.

Amy was no different. And, since she so enjoyed teasing her, she couldn’t help but mention the fact that said author was likely to be someone they knew. How else would they obtain such information?

“Whoever they are,” Camila muttered darkly, “I should like to put them out of business once and for all.”

“If that were the case, perhaps you should stop buying their newspaper,” Amy couldn’t resist pointing out.

“Alas, that would not even make a dent in Whistledown’s profits.”

That was true, Amy supposed. Ever since the mysterious paper had arrived on the doorsteps of the ton, the Lady was the name on everybody’s lips. They were singularly obsessed with her column and the secret identity of the woman who wrote it.

Amy had to admire her business savvy, if nothing else. For two weeks, the paper was delivered Monday, Wednesday, Friday, completely free of charge. On the third week, the delivery boys announced it was to be five pennies a paper from then on.

In public, the ton pretended to be scandalized, tutting whenever anyone would mention Whistledown’s name, but in the privacy of their own homes, they still could scarcely get enough.

Somewhere in London the Lady was getting very rich indeed.

Despite her more refined taste in literature and art history, Amy was not immune to the scandal sheet’s lure. Checking to make sure Camila wasn’t paying attention, she perused her own, uncrumpled copy. She’d missed the previous night’s ball and it seemed as though it had been quite the occasion.

“I can’t believe you’re reading that rubbish,” Camila suddenly accused.

Amy looked up, refusing to feel the least bit of guilt. The Lady was on top form. “Apparently Sophia Perez knocked over a tower of champagne glasses last night.”

“Really?” Her mother asked, trying, and failing, not to appear interested.

“Indeed,” Amy grinned. “And Mrs. Boyle-Linetti was seen parading her daughter in the most unflattering shade of yellow.”

Camila’s mouth twitched. Poor Gina’s outfits were always blindingly brightly coloured. Amy could see her mother’s resolve weakening, the power of Whistledown overcoming even the strongest of reservations. Within two seconds, she was sitting next to Amy on the settee, eagerly snatching up the paper. “What else did we miss?”

“After many years overseas, the rake formerly known as Earl Clyvedon has finally decided to grace London with his presence,” Amy read over her shoulder. “Is it This Author’s imagination, or is it awfully coincidental that this return has only come after the old Duke’s unfortunate death?”

“My goodness,” Amy blushed at the implication. “She is blunt, isn’t she?”

“Extremely,” Camila agreed, feeling rather vindicated. “I remember the Duke from David’s time at school. They were fine friends, though he was always something of a troublemaker, if I remember correctly.”

Amy’s eyes strayed to the new Duke’s name. “He seems quite interesting,” she murmured, not even realizing she’d said it aloud until Camila turned to her with a sharp look.

“He is quite unsuitable for a young lady of your stature.”

“I was not suggesting—.”

“You better not have been,” Camila admonished, her face softening as she wrapped her arms around her daughter’s shoulder. “Do not worry, my dear. This is your season. I promise.”

[amydancepants-peralta]

last chapter writing, new fic writing, hc writing, all the above?

Last chapter writing! ✍🏼 final chapter of Let Down Your Guard up now ✨✨ but who knows what else may come up 🤞

[imaginesbymonika]

Mischief and Bagels |Prologue

A humor B99 x Marvel Crossover.

Plot: Loki fleed Asgard and he is now roaming the earth. Only the mightiest heroes on earth could stop him- with the help of the world's mightiest detective (in his opinion), who knows the streets of Brooklyn like the back of his hand.

Characters: Y/N x various marvel characters, Y/N x The Squad of the 99, might some Y/N x Matt Murdock and Y/N x Jake Peralta who does his best at flirting.

masterlist

A/N: no one’s dead, infinity war and end game didn’t happen, everyone’s fine &lt;3

Song to listen to while reading:

"Are you sure, I'm at the right place?", a young y/h/ed woman asks, as she swivels around on the sidewalk. She eyes the detectives and police officers that make their way past her in confusion.

"Yeah, Y/N, for the millionths time, you are.", Tony Stark, who is on the other side of the line responds: "I can see you through the security cameras, by the way." Y/N perks up in search of the lens. "Now, please- turn around." A soft sigh leaves her lips before she does as she's told.

"That's the NYPD building.", the y/h/c woman reports.

"Yeah, I know.", Tony's voice is fatigued, and judging by the way it gets cut off every few seconds he is slapping himself with the phone. "Are you sure, I'm-".

She can pretty much sense, how Tony runs a hand down his face:" At the right place? For fucks sake- Yes! Now would you please go inside to the third floor, and ask for Captain Holt. He will explain everything to you. Steve will likely show up in an hour or two."

Jake Peralta, who is sitting at his desk absently stares into the small snowglobe he's holding in his hands. For the past couple of hours (days if he was being honest) he has done nothing but that... shaking the ornament and eyeing how the tiny snowflakes fall on top of the roof of the gingerbread house.

The last weeks have been frustrating, something has been happening in Brooklyn lately. Something big, if not huge- and SHIELD told the whole NYPD, that they weren’t permitted to act on it until further notice. Which basically meant never.

They've been put on time out.

"Dude.", a voice lets out, and without looking up he moans in response.

"Not now Rosa, can't you see that I’m unbelievably busy?" "Dude!"

The detective takes a deep breath before he abruptly turns his head in the direction of his friend. Only to make eye contact with Y/N Y/L/N. As in Avenger's Y/N. As in "Killer Queen". As in his dream girl. "Hi.", she says and looks down at him, an inelegant smile emerging on her lips. Jake opens up his mouth and tries his best to answer, but when he realizes that no words are coming out, he shuts it again.

The hero in front of him lifts her eyebrow: "I am looking for a Captain Holt, I was wondering if- wait, are you okay?" Y/N glances at him, with visible worry on her face. In the last few seconds, Jake hadn't blinked. Not once. The young woman stares at him for a brief moment, before she turns around: "I think we might need a doctor- I'm not really sure."

"Nah, don’t mind him. He‘s okay.", Rosa answers and nods her head towards a door: "That’s Holt's office, just knock." Y/N flashes her a sharp smile, before turning once more to look at Jake: "Get well soon, I- I guess."

He watches her as she walks away. Y/N knocks at Holt‘s door, before slipping into it. "Damn, Jake.", Rosa states and sits down on top of his desk. "Smooth." But her friend doesn't react to her comment, instead, he turns to his friend Charles Boyle. "Did you see that?!"

"If I saw that? I made a picture of your interaction in my head. If you two ever get married, I have proof of the minute she fell in love with you. Right-", he points against his temple: "Here.".

Jake stares at his friend, and his smile slowly fades: "You could have simply said yes, you know." Charles nods and holds both his thumbs up.

"Did I fall asleep on my desk, or was that really Y/N?!", Jake asks, his eyes lightening up. Rosa nods: "Yep, pretty cool!"

"I heard, she fought aliens in space." He leans back in his chair, pointing his finger towards the ceiling. Amy Santiago, who sits at the other table rolls her eyes before she proceeds with her paperwork: "Didn't they all do that?" “Yeah, but I just know that she did it like in a really cool way, you know- with her powers and all." He makes a couple of hand gesticulations, acting like he's hurling energy orbs around the room.

His performance gets interrupted when the door to Holt's Office opens and the Captain steps out, followed by the young Avenger. "Emergency meeting in five- everyone meets in the briefing room!"

[iconsmelfumero]

headers natalinas de b99

[benwvatt]

b99 season 1 analysis project!

hi, I’ve started a new project analyzing season 1 of b99 episode by episode because I love this show a lot. If you want to read some character analysis and insight into the friendships and relationships (especially peraltiago!), please check it out on ao3 <3

Amy’s dream of having Holt as a ‘rabbi,’ a career mentor, is also interesting.

In our first scene with Amy, she’s rolling her eyes at Jake, who’s solved a robbery using Fuzzy Cuddle Bear, the nanny-cam. Despite not solving that case, she remains competitive and ambitious throughout the episode. She writes ‘24’ in tiny numbers when updating the whiteboard where they keep the bet; Amy’s only at 22 and she’s losing. She pours hot sauce all over her sandwich and dares to eat it because Scully mentions that it’s spicy.

Amy is my favorite character because she balances working hard and having fun (“fun but not too fun was my campaign slogan when I ran for prom queen!”) Dan Goor and Mike Schur worked hard to develop an ambitious female lead who wouldn’t be the buzzkill of the group, and it really paid off.

We also see this ‘fun but not too fun’ dynamic with Amy and Holt. Amy respects Holt a lot (perhaps too much?) and she wants to gain his approval, yet she’s still friendly with him. Even in the first episode, she doesn’t put Holt on a pedestal. For example, Amy warmly asks Holt ‘when did you come out?’ after Holt tells Jake and Amy that he’s gay, and Amy calls out “speech!” when Holt introduces himself.

read the full chapter on ao3!

I plan to go through all the episodes of season 1 and then move onto season 2 and 3 eventually

[benwvatt]

spilled ink and dotted ‘i’s

nypd tutor AU in which Jake is a police officer and Amy’s his tutor for the detective exam! I just finished this story and I’m really proud of it. Feel free to check it out!

Amy Santiago, CSI and part-time NYPD tutor, finds her first client next to the panini press in the makeshift kitchen. He’s nursing a nasty burn, wincing and cursing only a little too loudly, when the man in the pantsuit rushes over.

“Jakey! What did we say about making food at work? Always wear oven mitts! What you just did was the culinary equivalent of … of unprotected sex!”

Amy meets bad-at-making-paninis guy over the din of a rather descriptive rant about the dangers of cooking food in the precinct, grinning as the client reaches over and shakes her hand.

“Yeah, I’m Jake. Jacob Peralta. Nice handshake, as if my hand hasn’t been through enough today. And you are?”

Amy smiles. “My fault. I took a seminar, and I’ve never been able to give a limp handshake since. Um, I’m Amy, Amy Santiago.

read more on ao3!