#I WILL *SO* DEFINITELY PRINT THIS AND PUT IT EVERYWHERE THIS IS ABSOLUTELY ADORABLE YOU'RE ADORABLE THIS IS TOO MUCH FOR MY HEART 🙈🙈❤️‍🔥
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stars-heal · 2 years ago
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I made these for you!!!
😳💗😳💗😳💗😳💗😳💗😳💗😳💗😳💗😳💗😳💗😳💗😳💗😳💗😳💗😳💗😳💗😳💗😳💗😳💗😳💗😳💗😳💗😳💗😳💗😳💗😳💗😳💗😳💗😳💗😳💗😳💗😳💗😍⭐😍⭐😍⭐😍⭐😍⭐😍⭐😍⭐😍⭐😍⭐😍⭐😍⭐😍⭐😍⭐😍⭐😍⭐😍⭐💖💘💝💞❤️‍🔥THANK 💖💞💝💘❤️‍🔥 YOU ❤️‍🔥💞💘💖💝 SO 💞💘💖❤️‍🔥💝 MUCH❤️‍🔥💞💝💘💖😍⭐😍⭐😍⭐😍⭐😍⭐😍⭐😍⭐😍⭐😍⭐😍⭐😍⭐😍⭐😍⭐😍⭐😍⭐😍⭐😭🙏😭🙏😭🙏😭🙏😭🙏😭🙏😭🙏😭🙏😭🙏😭🙏😭🙏😭🙏😭🙏😭🙏😭🙏😭🙏😭🙏😭🙏😭🙏😭🙏😭🙏😭🙏😭🙏😭🙏😭🙏😭🙏😭🙏😭🙏😭🙏😭🙏😭🙏😭🙏
I FEEL SO HONORED AND BLESSED AND I'M SO GRATEFUL THAT YOU'VE TAKEN SOME OF YOUR TIME TO MAKE THIS!!!! 🙏🙏😭😭💝💝💝 THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU 😍😍😍❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥💝💝💝💝🙏🙏🙏🙏
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amydancepants-peralta · 5 years ago
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89, 91 or 98 please if you're taking prompts!! i can't decide !!!🥵🕊🕊
Me neither haha!  So ... here’s all three. 😅👶🏻💖
(89: “Mondays are your diaper days”, 91: “Oooh... someone’s got a tummy ache and 98: “I think we should have another.”)
i think our story needs more pages
There’s an unmissable smile of contentment on Jake Peralta’s face as he wipes down the last section of the kitchen bench, softly humming the theme song to Transformers while he rinses the washcloth under the tap.  (The original, of course - the remakes all have their merits but when it comes to theme songs, nothing beats the classic version, and that is the hill he will die on.)  
Not so long ago, a perfect day for him would have undoubtedly involved some sort of high-speed chase (or diffusing a hostage situation … or jumping from an exploding chopper with a knife between his teeth … he’s not fussy when it comes to the details, really) - but after spending the majority of today at their nephew Aaron’s third birthday party, he finds himself completely unable to hide the sheer joy that is thrumming through his veins.
He knows that he could attribute a certain portion of his great mood to the lasting effect of that second slice of ice-cream cake he’d had mere hours ago (or the light-up keyring he won during pass the parcel), but it all really came down all of the sweet moments in-between: standing in the shaded sun, surrounded by family, and watching as his son played with all of his cousins.  
It’s the kind of life that once upon a time would have seemed totally implausible, but now was absolutely his reality, and just the mere thought of a thousand more days like it put Jake on an all-time natural high.  
It has been fifteen months since the birth of their son, a child born of liquid fire that went by the name of Mac.  Fifteen months of diaper changes, screaming fits and mashed food everywhere.  And also; fifteen months of the softest of cuddles, impossibly tiny hands wrapping themselves around his fingers, and the deepest of brown eyes that took in everything imaginable.  He misses sleep (oh, how he misses real, uninterrupted SLEEP), but if that was the tradeoff for having a miniature version of him and Amy taking wobbly steps around their apartment, Jake would do it all again in a nanosecond.  
He had no idea how powerful the sound Dada would be, but the first time he heard it on his son’s lips, he straight-up cried.  And … maybe again when Mama followed shortly after.  Now, Mac’s vocabulary has expanded to five whole words (including Wowo, which both he and Amy are 90% certain stands for Aunty RoRo, and have agreed that it’s best for everyone if Charles just simply doesn’t know), and both parents couldn’t be prouder if they tried. 
There’s been an idea in the back of his mind for a few months now, one that has grown all the more after today’s festivities, and after pouring both he and his wife a half glass of wine each Jake makes his way over to the living room, still unable to wipe the smile off of his face when he takes in the scene in front of him.
Mac lay stretched out on the couch, his tiny duck printed pyjama shirt riding high and exposing his belly button as he rests his head on Amy’s lap.  Fast asleep, his eyes remain closed as Amy’s fingers run gently through his hair, his tiny chest rising and up down in even breaths.  It’s a sight Jake’s seen a hundred times before, but one that he never truly gets enough of, and after quietly placing the wine glasses on a nearby table he reaches out to tug Mac’s shirt a little lower.  
“I think someone’s got a tummy ache,” Amy whispers, mirroring Jake’s responding pout as he settles down on the couch, their sleeping son in between them.  “He only had the smallest taste of the cake .. but I guess when combined with the excitement of the day and all the dancing he did, the poor little guy is just completely wiped.”
(Mac’s ‘dancing’ was really just an unsteady yet adorable bouncing in place, both feet planted to the floor as his arms flail about to whatever music just happens to be playing, and the similarities between that and some of Amy’s dance moves have not gone unnoticed.)
Jake furrows his brow in response, instinctively reaching out to run a soothing hand over his son’s stomach.  “He’s all Mac’d out.”  He’d watched from the rear view mirror on the drive home as the gentle bumps of the road lulled Mac to sleep, his tiny curls squished along the edges of the carseat he was buckled into.  His (at times, endless) energy had been renewed by the time Amy had carried him up the stairs, the sneakers that Uncle Charles had given him making high-pitched squeaks as he’d run with tiny toddler steps around their apartment (the contents of which by now were entirely child-proof) for the rest of the afternoon.  
It was exhausting chasing after a toddler, but also strangely exhilarating, and watching Amy settle onto Mac’s play mat and help him with his building blocks as Jake had began to prepare dinner had just felt so right, it was hard to imagine what their afternoons used to be like pre-child.  
With his fingertip gently tracing the outline of one of the ducks on his son’s pyjama set, Jake watches as Amy uses her free hand to take a sip from her wine glass before speaking.
“I think we should have another.”  
His eyes squeeze shut as soon as he’s blurted it out, twisting his mouth into a wince.  There were a thousand different ways he could have phrased it (and lord knows he’s practised a few versions in the past few weeks), but nooo.  Great work as always, Peralta.
Amy’s head is cocked slightly to the side when he opens his eyes again, and she gestures vaguely at the glass.  “Another wine?  I’ve only just started this one.”
“Oh.  Ahh, no - sorry.  Ugh.  That was my terribly unsubtle way of saying that I’ve been thinking that maybe … we should try and have another baby.”
Raising her eyebrows, Amy’s hand stills amongst their son’s curly hair, and after a (thankfully brief) pause, she replies.  “You do?”
Jake can feel a soft smile begin to grow on his face, and he nods.  “Yeah, I do.”  Lifting his hand so that he can run his fingers ever so lightly along the bridge of Mac’s nose, he gives Amy a half shrug.  “I mean … I’ve watched you with your brothers over the years, and it’s just amazing the kind of bond all of you have.”  Mac’s eyelids begin to flutter, and Jake pulls his hand away before he accidentally wakes him.  “Even when you hate them with a passion, you still love them, and there’s just some things that you intrinsically know about each other without any prompting.  It’s the kind of closeness that can’t ever be replicated, and I would just really love to give Mac that kind of childhood.”
Amy smiles at the thought, giving Jake a tiny nod of encouragement to continue.
“I know that I had Gina a lot of the time, but at some point she would go home to her family, and then it was just me and my mom … and don’t get me wrong, that was great, but there were definitely times when I had wished that I could have had somebody to hang out with.  Especially when my mom started working two jobs and I saw her less and less.  TV and cake did an okay job raising me, but I do sometimes wonder … what if.”
With her nods growing bigger, Amy glances down at Mac.  “I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been thinking the same thing.”
Jake’s heart skips a beat, and he leans forward slightly.  As much as he might want to try and expand their family, it all really came to do Amy, and how she felt about it.  He’s never pressured her into anything, and he certainly wasn’t about to start now.  “You have?”
“Yeah.  Been thinking about it a lot, actually.  My family was loud growing up, but it was also kind of great.”
They grin at each other over their son’s sleeping form.  Maybe, this was actually going to happen.  
Mac wriggles in his sleep, his sock-covered feet stretching out slightly and nudging against Jake’s thigh, and Jake lifts them up to rest on his lap as he shuffles a little closer to Amy.  “This morning, when I picked him up out of his crib, he just had the biggest, gummiest smile on his face, and then he hugged me like there was no tomorrow and I just … it’s only the best feeling and … well, you know.”
“I do.  That little Mama! that I heard this morning?  I wish I had recorded it, it sounded so sweet.  He’s just the cutest.”
“Exactly!”  Jake reaches his left hand out, resting it on the portion of Amy’s leg that hasn’t been occupied by their sleeping son.  “And honestly, I just keep getting this image in my head of a mini Amy walking around; with tiny little binders tucked under her arm and the same gorgeous eyes as her mother, learning so quickly whenever her big brother shows her how to do something.  Can’t you see it, Ames?”
Laughing, Amy shakes her head.  “She wouldn’t have binders, Jake” and he nods because obviously a toddler wouldn’t have a binder, but then she continues.  “She’d have a notepad.  Binders are serious business.  You gotta work your way up to them.”
“Right, of course.  My mistake, babe.”
Covering his hand with her own, Amy links slides her fingers in between Jake’s and rests them there.  “It does scare me a little, though.”
Picking up on the sudden softness of his wife’s voice, Jake looks over carefully.  “Having another baby?”
She nods, a tentative smile lifting the edges of her lips for a mere second before falling.  “Yeah.  I mean … it wasn’t exactly easy last time.  What if next time, it’s even harder?  Or it just … doesn’t work?”
Jake’s eyes fall back down to their son, this miniature version of both of them had wished so hard for.  Amy was right - it hadn’t been easy last time, and there honestly weren’t any guarantees that it was going to be any better the second time around.  It’s one of the main reasons why it had taken him so long to talk to her about it.  But as he feels her fingers gently shift against his own, Jake realises the most simplest of truths, and looks back up at his wife.
“I know that this is probably going to go against all of your instincts, but when it comes to this I think we just kind of need to let fate play it’s hand.  We can only try, you know?  If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work.”  Shifting his weight, he rests his shoulder against hers.  “We’re a family, no matter what.  Whether there’s three of us, or four, or five.  We can get through anything, Ames.  If there is anything the past ten years have taught us, it’s that.”
The side of Amy’s head rests against his, and he feels her nod.  “I love you, Jake Peralta.”
Squeezing their fingers, Jake cranes his neck marginally to the left to leave a kiss against Amy’s hairline.  “I love you too, Ames.”
From below them, Mac rolls onto his side; one hand curling into Amy’s sweater, and both of them seperate slightly to watch him sleep.
Taking another tiny sip from her glass, Amy sighs happily.  “You know … if we do this, we’d really need to look into moving somewhere bigger.”  Her eyes wander over the room, eventually landing on a framed photo of the three of them that had been taken five months ago.  “Maybe even buying something, if we were really careful with our finances.”
Jake’s smile grows impossibly bigger, and briefly he wonders if he’s going to have sore cheeks tomorrow from all of it.  “Honestly?  That sounds kinda amazing.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.  I mean …” Jake pauses, sliding his right hand along the back of his neck in a move that his wife has long since called ‘The Dropping of Peralta’s Guard’, feeling one side of his mouth slide up ever so slightly as he turns his attention back to Amy.  “I love this apartment, and living in the city, but … the only thing I’ve ever really owned is your heart.  And that beat up Mustang I had for a while there, but money-wise that was mainly on loan, so … yeah.  Just you.”  His hands raise quickly, showing his palms in surrender.  “Not that I own you or anything, because that’s ridiculous, I just meant that you totally own mine and that’s - mmff” the rest of his sentence is muffled, the press of Amy’s lips against his stealing the last fragments of thought, and by instinct his arms wrap tightly around her waist, as best as he can with Mac still resting on their laps.    
Amy’s smiling as she pulls away, her hand sliding down his cheek until she’s resting her thumb in the tiny dimple at the bottom that he’d always hated until the love of his life made it a favourite, and honestly, how she makes his heart flutter even after all this time is just pure magic.
“I know what you meant, babe, and I love you for saying it.  You absolutely own my heart … well, you and Mister Mac do, anyway.  And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”  
Sliding his right hand further up his wife’s back, Jake pulls in her for another kiss.  He would happily share the space with Mac, and any other children that they might end up having, for the rest of his life (and maybe a hundred or so more years after that).  Toying with the ends of her hair as they part, Jake’s shoulders rise in a tiny shrug.  “Honestly, falling in love with you is the best investment I’ve ever made.  But the thought of actually buying a house with you, and turning it into a home that our kids will grow up in?  A backyard filled with toys and swing sets and maybe even a cat or two?  It sounds like the greatest idea ever.”
“And maybe a park nearby, where we can teach our kids to ride a bike?”
“Plus a basketball hoop over the garage door - because their Dad can dunk, and he’s totally going to show them how.  Not to mention a study lined floor to ceiling with bookshelves, all of them filled to the brim.”
Amy’s eyes begin to glisten slightly, and she leans in to rest both of her hands on Jake’s forearm.  “Don’t forget the front porch for us to sit on when we’re older, rocking in our chairs and stealing all of the other kid’s frisbees when they land on our lawn.”
“Of course!  We’re going to be the COOLEST house in the neighbourhood, with the dopest Halloween decorations.  Acting purely as a distraction, naturally, while we carry out whatever version of the heist we’re up to by then.”
Raising her chin slightly, Amy’s eyes turn suddenly serious.  “Your mind is going to be blown when you realise what I already have planned for then, Peralta.”
“Yet another reason to have a second baby!  One on each team!”
One of Amy’s eyebrows raises coyly, and she whispers “That’s what you think” as she leans in for another kiss, shortened by the soft laughter that falls from Jake’s mouth.  
“I really do love you, Ames.  Pre-emptive plotting for my children to heist against me and all.”
She giggles, and Mac lets out a tiny grumble as he begins to wake.  Scooting his butt to the edge of the couch, Jake slides his hand along his son’s back, holding him warm against his chest and tightening his grip as Mac nuzzles into his neck, still half asleep.  “Okay, time to take this party animal to bed.  Say goodnight, mommy!”
Raising herself up until she’s kneeling into the couch cushions, Amy leans in to press a kiss against Mac’s cheek, replicating the action on Jake’s as she pulls away.  “Goodnight, my sweet prince.  And babe, I think a diaper change might be in order.”
Wrinkling his nose, Jake nods.  “Yeah, I agree.”
“Want me to do it?”
“Nah.  Mondays are your diaper days, Sundays are mine.  I’ve got this.  You sit back and relax, and have a look at our schedules for when we can book a babysitter so that we can … practice.”
Resting her weight back down on her heels, Amy sinks her teeth into her lower lip.  “You know I’m a big believer in practice makes perfect, Peralta.”
“Indeed I do, Santiago.”  Lifting up one of Mac’s arms to mimic a tiny wave, Jake heads slowly towards Mac’s bedroom, intent on getting him changed and into bed with minimal disruption.  
(There ends up only being one tiny meltdown, but it’s nothing that a combined goodnight hug from both Mommy and Daddy can’t fix.)
*
In fifteen years time, there will be a house in Brooklyn - just outside the city centre, so close enough for the daily commute - that has contained so much love within its four walls that it has long since seeped into its foundation.
There will be a doorframe near the kitchen, marked with a variety of ascending lines drawn in marker, catalogued by both name and year as they rise.  A myriad of photos and commendations will line the walls (in no particular order, a fact that is made very clear), and the memories of each captured moment will last long after the images have faded.  
It will be their home - the Peralta-Santiago fortress against the rest of the world - and although life will forever throw curve balls their way, if there’s anything their children know for sure it’s that as a family, they’re always going to be there for each other.  No matter what. 
(Also, that Wario cheats.) 
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