#We also got the whole detective gig on. there’s that.

[7association-was-here]

what do you guys even do with the info you gather?

Eh. We store ‘em, we use ‘em when convenient, and we sell ‘em of course.

You’d be surprised to know how many pocket-stuffed-with-muffins chaps in the city want to know about [REDACTED] or [DATA EXPUNGED], oh and don’t get me started on fans of [THIS INFORMATION CAN KILL 12 SMALL BEARS].

[rinrinx2]

My Brothers Wife

Sewe

Ran x (Y/N) x Rindou

Summary: A change of tides is on its way

Warnings: Mentions of S@, mentions of @bortion, language, mature content, kinda smut, angsty.

My brothers wife Masterlist

You looked the young lady up and down, her skin pale, her eye bags dark as if she hadn’t slept in months. And worst of all was the physique as you caught small glimpses of it as her heavy brown coat would move around making it able for you to see the bloating of her abdomen and the swelling of her ankles.

“So, you’re the woman my husbands been fucking?” You asked rhetorically, without much care to how you spoke to her.

“Yes” she said with her head hung low.

“And why are you by my house door, begging to see me?” You questioned on.

“Well, this isn’t your house door this is Haitani Ran’s”

“Congratulation detective you’ve cracked the case. But I’m sure you know exactly how my house looks by now. Tell me how many times has Rindou brought you over there”

You watched as her faced turned in distaste as you spoke, you didn’t care if your words held venom to them.

You felt hurt and betrayed and when things finally started to feel hopefully you see the brunt of your husbands actions standing at your door step.

“I didn’t come here to argue with you” she spoke on looking you in the eyes.

“Then why are you here?”

The brunette took a deep breath, as if calming herself before she spoke on.

“I came here to ask for help” she said as she let go of all the oxygen in her lungs.

“Help with what?” You said now with a raised eyebrow.

“Help with the baby. This is Rindou’s” she said as she moved her coat open to display a semi round belly as a smile began crept onto her face.

The little restraint your held had snapped and Ran could sense it to all the way from his study, as he heard your chair scrape against the wooden floors.

“You asking me to help with your baby?!” You said now standing to your full height, as she remained seated at the opposite end of the table.

“Yes, you know we could work out something. Like help pay for medical bills and you know baby supplies. This whole secretary gig doesn’t pay the best”

“I mean that makes sense” you said with that fake laugh that lulled others into a false sense of security.

The young lady began to laugh with actually believing that you agreed with her.

“You’ve got some fucken nerve. You seek me out to ask for help because you got knocked up by my husband, so instead of trying to muster up an apology you go ahead and have the audacity to ask me to pay the bills of your kid”

You looked at the brunette starring daggers into her just as she did the same to you, now having a starring contest as anger shoot from each of your gazes.

“Get the fuck out of my house” you commanded.

“Like I said earlier this isn’t your house” she said now standing up herself, as she kept eye contact with you.

“Get the fuck out” you heard Ran say from behind you causing you to let go of your eyes on her.

“Make me. I’m not leaving here till use tell me where Rindou is” she said now changing the reason as to why she was invading your comfort of your home.

Without another breath wasted on her, you heard the clicking of Ran’s gun as he unholstered it from its casing. The loaded barrel pointing straight in her direction.

“You’d shoot a pregnant woman” she said in disbelief.

“I’ve done worst” Ran replied nonchalantly as he played with the trigger.

“Tell me where Rindou is” she continued on as she stamped her feet into the wooden floor, the wood letting out an aching noise.

“It’s not my fault my brother fucked you and discarded you. You should’ve taken his advice when it came to you getting pregnant.”

“Oh, and also scuff my floor again and you’ll end up laying dead on it” Ran added.

You watched as she turned around in defeat as she stormed to the door, her hand at the door knob as she turned it. So close to leaving until she tried to twist it and was unable to, and then suddenly the door flung open showing none other than Rindou.

“(Y/N) please talk to me about this” he said as he looked only at you not even noting the woman he’d been fucking or his brother aiming a gun at him.

“Perfect timing Rin, you can take your woman and both fuck off out of my house” Ran said with a smile as he moved to stand beside you.

You don’t remember how long Rindou stood in the door way begging to get a word out of you or how long that young lady nagged on Rindou’s arm for him to spare her a glance, you could only recall Ran letting a bullet whizz pass the two of them missing them by a millimetre. A good enough warning to get the two of them to finally leave.

“You think you’re going to have a peaceful day then that shit happens” Ran said as he laid draped over your lower half just below your bump as you played with the tuffles of his hair.

You remained silent not commenting on Ran remark, rather keeping attention on anything other than the situation you were in.

And you let that silent build up until finally it snapped within and all your worries frame bubbling out like ocean foam on the shore.

“Ran, I feel like this is all my fault” you said as you stop playing with his hair.

Ran lifted his head from your lap as you tried to look you in your eyes as your head hung low.

“It’s not (Y/N)” he said softly as he tried to reach out for you, but you pulled away from his touch.

“I just feel like none of this would’ve happened if i just didn’t start sleeping with you, I’m like a slut I just can’t help myself when it comes to you” you said holding back tears.

“It’s just the effect I have on women” Ran said with a snicker trying to lighten the mood but it was when he heard your sniffles and saw the reflection of your tears in the light did he realise the severity of the situation.

“Come in don’t cry, it’s not your fault really. I played a part in this two and when we started seeing each other Rindou was already 3 months in deep with that secretary”

Ran said trying to comfort you but did little of the way of helping as you continued to sulk, now with your hands covering your eyes as you sobbed harder.

Your cries echoed throughout the room for what felt like forever and your mind plagued you with thoughts of guilt.

“You know I started seeing because I always loved you” Ran said quietly, more to himself than anyone as he now kept his gaze lowered.

“And I know you might think that I’m just saying that because of what’s happening but I mean it. I remember when Rindou and I went to that club and we saw you. I was going to go up to you but I saw the excitement in Rindou’s eyes and let him go after you. I thought nothing much would come of it and then I’d get to speak to you afterwards but I was wrong. You looked at him the way I wished someone would look at me and you laughed at all his horrible jokes and when things got serious between the two of you I would hope something horrible would happen so you’d call the wedding off, but nothing ever did. And on your wedding day when I saw you I nearly cried tears of joy because for a minute it almost felt like you were walking down the aisle to spend the rest of your life with me. So, when I heard about how Rindou was having an affair and how it was affecting your marriage and he was neglecting you it was like my luck had finally changed and I did my best to show that I cared even if I did it the wrong way….

…and I’m sorry it ended up like this, I should’ve just told you what he was doing instead of getting tangled up in this. So, if you’re going to blame someone blame me. I love you to much to have you feel the guilt of this all”

You eyes still wet from your freshly fallen tears as you heard Ran quietly speak as he remained unaware that you listened so attentively.

Ran finally looked up, seeing you sit puffy lips and red rimmed eyes that held so much admiration and love towards him.

For a moment neither of you said a word just the two of you slowly approaching each other until you felt your lips softly collide.

Taking in each other’s breath, feeling as his tongue swirled around yours.

His hands travelling along your sides, gently squeezing them as they moved venturing across your body.

His hands dipping in between your thighs as two fingers pressed against your clothed cunt as his other hand played with your ever hardening nipples.

His fingers finally moving your panties to the side as he began to play at the outside of your pussy, teasing your clit but never fully sinking in until you began to whine out in need.

“Ran please” you begged out.

But all Ran did was let out a chuckle as he bit you lip playfully as he pulled his fingers away.

“You’re gonna have to wait if you want more”

You looked over at Ran as you gave him a stare that could kill, while he licked at his fingers shooting you a smirk.

“You know we can just elope” Ran said licking the last of your remnants off of his fingers.

“Real funny Ran” you commented back at what you presumed was a snarky remark.

“I’m being serious. Rindou is on your case and I doubt that but job of a secretary is going to be any better. So, why not, just you, me and Ran junior over there”

“How about Hong Kong.Mikey has a sister headquarters up there, I could ask to supervise there I mean I heard they kinda doing shit so instead of Mikey being situated there for awhile I can” Ran said with all his attention on you now.

“What ya say, gorgeous?”

“If you make me cum then it’s a yes” you said teasingly.

“So, then it’s a yes” Ran said as he now moved back onto your body.

Rindou walked into headquarters with full skin and new worry lines that a man of his age should not have dawned. He knew what he did was reckless and careless but he was trying his best to make amends.

And his thoughts of trying to fix things felt like porcelain falling onto the floor when he heard the voice of the woman who he dreaded.

“Rindou” she called out from the front desk trying to get his attention before he could make it to the elevator.

“Rin!” She called out louder this time.

“Rinnie!”

The name calling finally irritating Rindou enough to get his attention, as he now stormed towards her.

“I told you not to call me that” he said through gritted teeth.

“I’m sorry it’s just I haven’t seen you since that day at your brothers house”

“And you weren’t suppose to see me since 5 months ago when I paid you off enough for you to live a new life” Rindou said in an irritated tone.

“I’m pregnant Rindou, you can’t just neglect that fact” she said with the same venom back towards him.

“Well Suki, you weren’t suppose to be now because we had an agreement”

“Oh that would make your life so much easier just to get rid of that wouldn’t it” Suki said with a scowl.

“Yes it would. God, you fuck me when I’m shit blown out of my mind which sounds like a fucking criminal offence because it is and now you knocked up and won’t stop harassing me”

“Well would you look at that, the gangster caring about the law how ironic” Suki said with a grin

“And let’s not forget to mention the fact that you are the one who neglected your wife enough for her to go find comfort by your brother, so you really are the one at fault.”

“Fuck you” Rindou said as he turned on his heels.

“You wish you could” Suki said with a laugh.

She watched as Rindou walked towards the elevator not even sparring her a departing glance. She hated how he hated her, she hated the fact that she was regret and mistake in his eyes.

When Suki got this job as a secretary a year ago she didn’t know that’s when she would see the man of her dreams, with his lilac mullet and charming gaze.

And when the time came when he was tripping his was over to her desk, barely able to hold himself up she knew that she had to take the opportunity. She had to somehow get into his pants, and when she did she took full advantage of it never once letting up from his dick as she let him cum in her over and over.

She loved Rindou and when she found out he had a wife she knew she’d love him more than you ever could. She knew everything about him, how he liked his coffee to how he liked to get his dick wet. And when she heard from a passing by Ran who was talking to Kakucho how he’d been neglecting you for his duties at Bonten she knew it be a waiting game till she was the new Mrs. Haitani.

Rindou let out a sigh as he sat at his desk. His hands combing through his hair as he thought of the mess he was in. He couldn’t stand the time he was away from you, the house felt so soulless without you in it, no warmth from your love to keep it vibrant and he knew the way the situation looked just made you hate him more.

He couldn’t change the way you saw the situation with him being the villain because you saw him as some guy who was fucking the secretary and that’s why you neglected him, he wish he could show you that it wasn’t like that. All Rindou wished was that he’d be able to tell you was that he didn’t fuck his secretary on purpose she would come onto him when he was high off of whatever drug in some stupor unable to comprehend anything when she’d come after him. He would never fuck another woman, but how could he tell you that because you’d be upset at the fact that he was doing activities you told him to stop as well as still telling him that it takes two to tango.

Every way he looked at the situation he always came out with him being the villain and he hated himself for it.

Rindou let out a sigh as he threw his head on the desk. So distraught he hadn’t heard Kakucho enter his office.

“What’s gotten you like that” the younger male asked.

“My life is in the shit” Rindou replied not even lifting his head up.

“Yeah guess that’s been the buzz of the office, but don’t let it defeat you. Takeomi was in a similar predicament but him and his wife are stronger than ever now”

“Takeomi got taken advantage of by one of our secretaries, who got herself knocked up on your semen. While simultaneously neglecting his wife because he was so stressed with work that his own brother noticed and started giving his wife attention that cause the two to fall in love and have an affair that now had his wife pregnant” Rindou said as he had raised his head from the desk.

“I mean something along those lines but probably not the same details” Kakucho said with a nervous smile as he scratched the back of his head.

“Thanks for the support Kakucho” Rindou said as he dropped his head back onto his desk.

“Don’t mention it” Kakucho replied with a gleeful smile unable to read the severity of Rindou’s situation.

“Well anyway, Mikey called you into his office”

Rindou heard as Kakucho left his office as he began to pick himself up from his desk.

Rindou walked through the corridors till he reached Mikey’s office with its large glass windows that allowed you to look into his office.

Large enough to give him the full sight of his brother talking to Mikey.

Rindou walked into his office not caring that Mikey and Ran were still talking.

“You called” Rindou said sluggishly, as he looked at him and Ran who were still talking.

“So it’s settled you’ll be going to Hong Kong then” Mikey said finishing up talking to Ran.

Rindou sat down in a chair watching Ran left without sparing his older brother a glance.

“So Ran’s finally leaving” Rindou said with a snicker.

“Matter of fact he is” Mikey replied which caused Rindou’s attention to be fully on Mikey now.

Rindou’s heart began to beat faster at the idea of his brother finally leaving Tokyo, it was as if his prays were being answered and he’d finally be able to get you back with his brother’s absence.

“That’s why I called you in here today. I need you to take over Ran’s responsibilities in Roppongi as well as few other areas since he’ll be moving to Hong Kong”

A smile began to spread on Rindou’s face at the news of his brother leaving. For the first time in a long time things were finally looking up for him.

“Will do” Rindou said trying to hold his composure.

“Yeah and please don’t fuck the areas in giving you any further than they are, ever since Ran’s been busy with (Y/N) his been disregarding some of his work”

“Don’t worry I won’t” Rindou said with a smirk full of hope.

“Yeah let’s hope Ran doesn’t do the same with since she’s going with to Hong Kong”

And the minute Rindou heard Mikeys words his smile fell.

“What do you mean she’s going with” Rindou questioned, already knowing the answer.

“(Y/N) is going with Ran to Hong Kong”

.

.

.

All rights reserved

[read-write-thrive]

soooo have we talked about how Niko doesn’t just Grow Up to be this character but is The Principal aka a non-human entity (I assume??) working for the afterlife ???? like how does one get that gig ?? is there an application process that younger her nailed and she grew up in this outside of time type thing ? did she grow up in the astral plane where we see her with Litty and Kingham ? did she get to take refuge in any of the other planes that exist in this universe (we know of hell and the lost and found department, but also the sandman canon and the more extended universe with realms like the dreaming) ?? how did time work for her???

im imagining the Lost and Found department existing outside of time from the mortal realm, so she could’ve grown up elsewhere (in whatever realms she got to trying to get home? hopefully not stuck in the artic-type place but maybe) and then when it came time for her to pass on Death goes “actually I have a job for you” since Niko has all this extra planar/different realms experience AND has these connections with the dead boy detectives (who I think Death has a soft spot for/knew needed someone to protect them) and then she’s the Principal ! which sets her outside of time (making her relatively immortal if that wasn’t already part of the job description) and allows for the time fuckery that has her as the Principal at the same time that she’s on this other plane with the sprites,,,

idk I just think we as a fandom could explore more of her having Adventures as part of her growing up in the time between younger her with the sprites and older her as the Principal, plus I think we could dive into how the Lost and Found Department works as a whole (are there other afterlife departments ? there must be, otherwise it wouldn’t be called a department, right?? is there an equivalent for adults? non-humans? beings from these other realms? I assume Death does the judging without a whole department behind her but idk maybe there’s more to it, especially if there’s more involved than the Christian esque set up we have here)

also omg Niko recognising the boys and assigning the Night Nurse to be in charge of them not only to settle the hell or not dispute (aka protect Edwin from ever having to go back to hell) but to also help them on cases 😭 she’s still looking out for her friends I will Cry oml

[hils79]

Hils Watches Lovely Runner - Ep 11

Had a few days off from watching anything while I attended the Up All Night asian drama convention. Ironically I talked a bit about this drama on a panel about time travel in dramas, even though I haven't actually finished it yet 😅

Anyway, now I'm ready to resume. I think I can more or less remember how the last episode ended...

What does renting an adult movie have to do with him kissing his girlfriend in public? Is that frowned upon in Korea?

Sunjae has just found out that Im Sol is from the future, and in that future he dies when he's barely into his 30s. All he is concerned about is that Im Sol's mother saw him kissing a girl on the street and might not like him now.

God, I have missed these idiots.

Sunjae doesn't know how he dies but what he does know is that there's no way it could possibly be Im Sol's fault

Oh shit I totally forgot Sunjae's dad currently thinks he's on a plane to the US. This is not going to go well when he finds out...

He is so gone for her. I love him.

Oh, yeah, he missed the audition for the band so he's no longer on the path to becoming an idol now. That means no expensive skincare products for free because looking good is your job

Oh my god all his stuff is on a plane to the US even if he isn't

Hehe! Well, at least the reveal was mostly comedic

Wait, I thought she didn't want him to become an idol to keep him safe

Oh no are we going to end up with another totally different version of the future where Sunjae isn't an idol and her brother and bestie don't end up married.

And now a bag full of condoms intended as a joke wedding gift has ended up in Sunjae's bag by mistake. I'm glad we've eased up on the angst for a bit to do some more lighthearted nonsense

Oh my god he bought them matching phone charms. He is such a loser (affectionate)

I know something terrible is going to happen soon. They're all happy and in love and there's still another 5 episodes to go. I'm glad they get this for a little bit at least.

I am getting so much secondhand embarassment from this whole scene, but also I can't stop laughing. IT'S RAINING CONDOMS 🤣

I am crying I'm laughing so hard. Two star-crossed lovers torn apart by a shower of condoms

He just went into his mind palace to figure out how the condoms got into his bag. This might be my favourite episode so far, as much as I'm enjoying all the time travel and the angst.

I love that grandma is heading up this whole intervention

Well, after that delightful little subplot we are now back to the serial killer who may or may not end up killing Sunjae

Did his dad really get him to go and update Im Sol on the case and tell her that she's in danger. THAT IS LITERALLY THE JOB OF THE POLICE NOT THE FASHION HOUSE SON OF A DETECTIVE. The cops in this really do suck even by k-drama standards.

He is honestly the most sensible character in this whole drama

Uh...you haven't even tried though? The first time he got you it's because you went outside to stop Sunjae getting rained on in the park. Take Sunjae and find a cabin in the woods or something. Or go to America with him.

Okay, dude, you need to dial that back a bit

Taesung is like 'we spent the night together we're bros now'

Aww now they're both drunk and pouring their hearts out to each other

Well if they were buddies after Taesung slept on Sunjae's couch I don't know what snuggling in the same bed like this makes them

Ooh is Sunjae going to sing at their last gig and get back on the idol path?

Ooh they caught him! Except there's still another 5 episodes to go so clearly it's not over yet

Aww there we go he's back on stage

Oh sweetie...

Yep, there we go. Of course he escaped.

But, hey, we got through a whole episode without the sad Jongho song playing even once.

[darkdemeter]

Dem Hi! I'm back with a bit of an unhinged ask here:

Im sure this doodle gives you an idea where this is going. I was just making myself some tea, and I was thinking about Lovers In Eden (i was going to listen to a song called Eastward of Eden by Amelia Day,hence the association). And Since I am a film student, a writer and i took script classes as my subject las trimester, i offer you this unhinged recap of my conspiracy theory. So LIE (Lover in Eden) introduces us to the idea that Strife killed Y/N after a bloodlust outburst,right? Well, at first i didnt think too much of it, but then the chapter ends with the four on earth, which felt a little disembodied from the prologue. Which brings me to the hipothesis which is: Strife's lover is on earth,reborn without their memories. My proof for this theory is this: 1) We know that in the darksiders universe there is such thing as a well of souls, we know they go through the kingdom of the dead to repent and then be reborn through the well. 2) you wouldntve put the line "Love slayer" if it wasnt relevant to the plot. (Writing often times includes phrasing things a certain way to hint at other things). 3) Why would you close the chapter where you did? What relevance does the fact that the four are now on earth have? Simple, Strife will find a reborn,survivor Y/N and will fall in love with them (and have a crisis once he realizes its a whole like soulmates finding eachother again situation) 4) and last (which came to me as i wrote this) if you were to center the story only on Strife and the reader without the reader being reborn, you wouldve just started it from the medieval age/wherever strife met the reader and not end with the four on earth. Of course dont gotta tell me if im right,dont want to spoil the whole fic anyways. But I felt the need to share this with you. (I genuienly felt like the pepe silvia meme). And yeah, one offshoot of all this is that maybe the reader isnt a reborn soulmate, and that the prologue could just set up this inherit guilt and fear towards love that Strife has. Until we get the next chapter, i lay in wait...scheming/lhj/hj Have a nice rest of your day and i hope you've enjoyed my unhinged ramble. -Jer. PD: i feel so silly for sending this whole thing but as a fellow writer i know theres nothing we love more than ppl theorizing about our stuff. So here you go. I hope it doest read as overbearing,i just genuienly love your stuff.

First off, I love your pepe doodle! It’s so perfect. In fact I find it so funny that I made this a little bit ago myself... (As much as I'd love to rant and such about my AUs' lore and headcanons, I made this for shits and gigs)

I absolutely adore hearing theories readers have about my fics. (Sorry this has taken FOR-EV-ER to respond to, I'm terrible with replying at times)

I also fucking LOVE that you're a film student, I think that makes this whole theory situation even better because I do tend to have a very movie-esque thought process when writing. (Blooper reel and BTS footage rent free in my head)

And I think I've got the mind stewing a bit with that recent post, Flowers From My Lover. Without hopefully giving away anything, you do have some valid and interesting points in your theories and has me going, "Oh Jer is good little detective." You get a cookie for your theory skills!

There are indeed certain key details and clues I put in on purpose and it's so interesting to see what readers pick up on. And yes, the well of souls is involved to some extent in this plotline, but not in the way you might think...

I also find your choice of the word "reborn" interesting. Very obviously and right out the gates, I will say that yes, reader is alive in this story. But it's the manner in which reader's alive and again, the reborn theory is interesting and again, possibly not in a way you're expecting. Though it seems rather simple, I will tease that there is... quite a bit more to it than what's at face value.

And I wanna tease this little clue too because it is one of my favourites: It's interesting how the fic's title has a double meaning in plain sight...

[ghostoffuturespast]

I have to ask about SIG for the WIP game. Is it an acronym? Something else? I need more deets

WIP Game Here

😉 I think you're pretty well acquainted with this one lol

SIG - So It Goes

I don't really have any new snippets or anything to share at this point, apart from what I had earlier. But I figured this'd be a good opportunity to share some behind the scenes for this one. So here goes!

There's been three different plot threads I've been juggling throughout this thing. A-plot (which is the main events of the game, V trying to solve their relic problem), B-plot (the romance), and C-plot (for conspiracy). It's been an entertaining challenge weaving these three threads together, and also expanding on things that I wish had been included in the game. But I'm very excited about getting to the end of this thing so I can put a bow on this horrible magic trick.

One of my favorite sections to work on was probably chapters 16-22. Largely B-plot with a little bit of C-plot mixed in. For me, it was an interesting way to have Grandpa and River get to know each other better in a way that I think we didn't get enough of in the game, and I'm really proud that I also managed to expand the whole Monster Hunter gig (the one with Jotaro Shobo, which was pretty short) out with just the shards you pick up around town. Because there are a shit ton of them. Like the human trafficking situation in NC is bad, but finding out literally one sick bastard is fueling so much of it, on top of finding out how many other people were involved was crazy. But all the characters that were involved and the details I included in this part of the story were all inspired by and taken straight from the game.

Jacob Miller (the murdered media River and Han were investigating), dead NPC you can find under the Gold Beach Pier in Wellsprings. Callum Black (the cop that V and River end up kidnapping and interrogating), name dropped in the messages you get off Jacob and also, presumably, the one who killed him, since Jacob was trying to blackmail him. David Beemer (the detective that V and River made a house call too), NPC from one of the NCPD scanner gigs. You can deal with him and find out he's been working with the Scavs and SoCal border patrol. Jerry Fawlter, corrupt NCPD Commissioner was name-dropped in several shards you find in Northside. (I know everyone was excited about the celebs at the party in PL, but man, I was so excited to see Jerry. Evil middle-manager in a suit got to be a real NPC!)

One of the main reasons I love this games so much, is just how detailed and interconnected it all is. And all of that was a tiny piece of it. Like they didn't have to go this hard, but they did. And you don't put that much detail in for no reason. It's been a lot of fun tickling my brain playing connect the dots and puzzling all of this out.

Thanks for the ask!🧡

[wildcards1407]

Travel Documents 129: Bang Bang Bodhisattva

by Aubrey Wood

Genre:  sci-fi, near-future, cyberpunk, bio-punk

Publication Date: May 9 Pre-Order At This Link

The Dust Cover Copy

Someone wants trans girl hacker-for-hire Kiera Umehara in prison or dead—but for what? Failing to fix their smart toilet?

It’s 2032 and we live in the worst cyberpunk future. Kiera is gigging her ass off to keep the lights on, but her polycule’s social score is so dismal they’re about to lose their crib. That’s why she's out here chasing cheaters with Angel Herrera, a luddite P.I. who thinks this is The Big Sleep. Then the latest job cuts too deep—hired to locate Herrera’s ex-best friend (who’s also Kiera’s pro bono attorney), they find him murdered instead. Their only lead: a stick of Nag Champa incense dropped at the scene.

Next thing Kiera knows, her new crush turns up missing—sans a hand (the real one, not the cybernetic), and there’s the familiar stink of sandalwood across the apartment. Two crimes, two sticks of incense, Kiera framed for both. She told Herrera to lose her number, but now the old man might be her only way out of this bullshit...

A fast-talker with a heart of gold, Bang Bang Bodhisattva is both an odd-couple buddy comedy that never knows when to shut up, and an exploration of finding yourself and your people in an ever-mutable world.

Quick heads up: this book is in pre-release, so this is a spoiler-free review. There’s more depth I’d love to dig into, but I’m hands-off until more folks have read it!

The Scene

Worldbuilding

Hooooo BOY. Buckle up. Here we go.

A high-octane story in the cultural tradition of Snow Crash, Minority Report and Blade Runner, Bang Bang gives folks in the queer community what they’ve been waiting for: a look at the cyberpunk world through their eyes.

In worldbuilding, Wood has taken cues from all your favorite wouldn’t-live-there-if-you-paid-me futures: the tech that argues with you has shades of The Fifth Element, the use of bionics and implants is reminiscent of Repo Man. And the harsh reality of gigging for a living and running on ice? Well that, we’re living right now. Mixed together, they make for a world I really enjoyed reading, but definitely don’t want to visit.

The Crowd

Characterization

Wisecracking, fast-moving Kiera is the POV character we’ve been waiting for. She’s clever, quick-tongued, a little bit of a spaz and an absolute sweetheart. She’s the type of quick-thinking trans girl who’ll yell ‘I got a dick!’ when a skeez wolf-whistles, just to watch him walk into a wall. She’s thirty years old, sick of the grind, and sweet-natured under the armor her world impels her to wear. Her foil is Angel Hererra. No wait, sorry, he changed that name, and that face, to get the world to give him a bit less of a hard time. It sort of worked…sort of. But it cut him off from part of himself too. And that’s never a good thing. On their side are a clever assortment of allies: the android studying law, the classy dame with all the threads to the underworld in her hand, and the indentured servant who really just wanted a better life. Underpinning the story is the sweet support of Kiera’s polycule, waiting at home with snuggles and bingeable TV. Cueing up the ominous music for this piece are Detective Flynn, who gives new meaning to being a dick, and several other impressive baddies. The characters, even those who aren’t fleshed out, are well-written and interesting. The ones who get more time on the page are rounded into wonderfully whole people. Most of them don’t fit society’s definition of ‘people’ for some reason. And with every move, they prove why they should.

Writing Style

Fast paced and sometimes brutal, this work is full of bright one-liners and witty zings. Like it says on the dust cover, it definitely has echoes of The Big Sleep going on, along with Snow Crash and similar zany takes on a dark future. But the author pulls on this setting like a favorite coat and wears it with style, making it fresh. I particularly enjoyed the showcasing of authority using legalism as a weapon against people who don’t fit: it’s a nasty part of the LGBT and minority experience that needs to be addressed. But I enjoyed watching our characters find their way around it even more!

The Moves

Plot

I’ll say this up front: I was not expecting these twists and turns. And I bet you won’t see what’s coming either, not until it’s right on top of you! Or, in most cases, right on top of Kiera. Poor kid.

(cue Kiera shouting ‘I’m thirty, dammit!’ in the background) In the classic neo-noir style, you have your crime, you have your slueth, and you have your unknown criminal. But the twists and turns that take us from ‘oh crap a dead body’ to the last page are nothing like you expect, and everything you want to read.

Overall Rating

A high-octane race through Cyberpunk City, with pit stops for queer love and solidarity.

[snowblossomreads]

i can’t decide which one i like more, detective yn playing golf in a mini skirt with jealous grumpy possessive dave

or

unhinged yn as a caddy girl doing things to get his attention, okay listen— dave need to collect information from eyewitness, a wealthy man with golf as a hobby, he came to the field to talk with the man not knowing that there’s a unhinged yn went undercover as caddy girl (for her sketchy work or just stalking dave for giggles? who knows🤷 ) so the eyewitness rope dave to participate in the game, dave didn’t realise that yn was there until she help him with something and from that point yn just be doing anything to get his attention and teasing him distracting dave that he was supposed to focus on getting information from the eyewitness—and they banged! the end

also, lowkey want detective grimes(thanks to him we got a feral angry dave i guess) to make an appearance in this whole golfing au accidentally get whacked in the head with a stray ball or flying golf stick by a ‘clumsy’ yn/dave or both

if it was yn detective yn: oops…sorry newbie mistake! *cringing pretending sprained her wrist to stop playing* friedman: *a bit worried with a glimpse of proud look on his face, following her for first aid sending glares to the guys that attempt to help/touch her on the way*

if it was dave unhinged yn: *fussing over dave* are you alright? you didn’t sprain your arm, did you? that poor swing technique can causes you injury, sir! friedman: aren’t you supposed to check on him instead of me?🤨 *looks pleased af tho*

sorry for rambling, the deity of obsessed for detective friedman just possessed me

whoops forgot to left my sign in the previous ask

-friedman simp

Friedman simp my beloved 🤣🤣🤣!!! Oh god can you imagine unhinged yn sliding up beside him and hes like ayo what the fuck.

unhinged y/n: -flutters eyelashes- i needed a part time gig so im here as this guys caddy girl. but i rather be yours 😌😌😘

they of course bang as you say bc how can we not let them 🤣

detective y/n would 100% purposely aim at detective grimes head for shits and giggles. but as soon as any of the other guys playing start oogling her and her purposefully short skirt dave is like nope dont look at her shes MINE 😡😤

giggles and kicks feet ekkk i love all these ideas and they shall be placed in my every growing list of fics i need to write (but am too tired to rn 🤣)

also Dave has all the y/ns. hes got unhinged y/n, detective y/n, and a new y/n who runs a stop light and then *redacted* 😌

it's what he deserves tho 😘

[mondscheinprinzessin]

“i’m not scared but if you are, you can hold my hand.” feels like Joonas/Olli, baby channel period? 🤲

There's a small mention of vomiting in this one.

Joonas had searched around the whole backstage area for his bandmate but came up short. Joel was already close to a breakdown because they couldn’t go on stage without their bassist, but he was nowhere to be found which was a big problem. No, more than big; alarming, horrible, disastrous. Those would have been Joel’s words if Joonas stayed to listen, but he hasn’t yet given up searching for Olli and continued to walk through the few hallways connected behind the stage of the small club until he stumbled outside through a heavy door.

He had only intended to give the outdoor area a quick sweep with his eyes but then they detected a figure sitting against the wall and Joonas was sure it was Olli, the blonde hair a given sign it was his friend.

Without any words he sat down next to him, assessing his state quickly and discovering the slumped pose, forehead on his knees and the heavy breathing marking him down as distressed.

“Hey.” Joonas nudged his elbow against him to get him to sit up and register him.

“I’m okay, I’m fine.” Olli mumbled into his legs, barely comprehensible for Joonas.

Joonas could very well see that Olli wasn’t fine at all, but he also didn’t want to point out how much miserable he was looking, that sure wouldn’t help him as wouldn’t any speech about how everything would go well.

Internally Joonas was freaking out as well. Their first gig where they suddenly ended up as the main act on top of everything else was nerve wrecking to say the least and everyone was feeling it not only Olli, so Joonas couldn’t blame him for seeking some fresh air and a peaceful spot to be alone with his thoughts.

Unfortunately they had to be on stage in a few minutes and frankly Olli didn’t look like he was able to do one step towards it.

“Well, if you’re fine, do you think you can give me a good luck kiss?” It wasn’t just for distracting Olli, Joonas could really need it, but he didn’t want to show in front of Olli how scared he was, it would surely only lead to Olli spiralling further.

To his relief it made Olli look up and soon he felt a pair of lips on him, chaste and gentle before they were gone again.

“There. Better?” Olli asked and Joonas nodded in response with a content smile. “We better head in then, right?”

Contrary to what he said Olli didn’t look like he was ready to get up and walk on stage.

Joonas nudged him again to get him to look at him, reaching his hand out. “Hey, I’m not scared but if you are, you can hold my hand.”

First Olli only looked at it but then he took it and intwined their fingers. “I’m not scared. I’m terrified.” He said in a quiet voice and Joonas was afraid that Olli wouldn’t be able to overcome his stage fright.

“You won’t be alone out there, we’ve got you.” He assured him, having repeated the same words in his head just before in an attempt to calm himself down.

“I threw up. Twice. How pathetic is that? This is what we’ve always dreamed of, what we want to do and what we love to do, but I’m sitting here scared as fuck.”

“Olli.” Joonas interrupted him before he could go on. “That’s completely normal. You will get used to it, I promise. You know that first times are always scary. But I’m convinced you will be amazing. Look at me when it gets overwhelming, alright?”

Olli took a breath and nodded. “Okay. Okay, I think I’m ready.”

“Yeah? Wanna have a good luck kiss as well?” Joonas asked and already had a hand in Olli’s hair to pull him closer.

[jessikast]

Leverage: Redemption thoughts

Now that I have - joyfully and with complete delight - watched the eight episodes we’ve been graced with:

I adore it. The first episode, in particular, felt almost like fanfiction in the best way. Our characters were BACK. (Except one, and I don't think anyone really misses him.) The banter, the references to the original show (I teared up at the first over-head group shot), the vibes and character dyamics - perfection.

I'm really surprised that - in a show that is otherwise quite progressive and very aware of the world it's operating in - that unless I've missed something we still don't really have any canon queer characters. (I mean yes, obviously, there's our OT3 which is only word-of-god canon, and in my heart everyone in the crew except Nate was totally bi, but the only character I can think of was that lady detective in two episodes of season 4 who was lesbian and who *may* have had an excellent lunch date offscreen with Sophie.) Breanna said something about wanting to fit in in terms of 'who we love' in The Card Game Job episode, but I don't think that was anything explicit.

Sophie's grief at the start of the first episode was amazing. Gina Bellman's acting was so lovely.

I really miss having more Hardison, but I like Breanna more than I thought I would. I was prepared to bristle at her cockiness and defend our precious baby Alec, but I think the show did a really good job introducing her - allowing her the technical skills she needs to be genuinely useful to the team, and also showing that she is explicitly being mentored and taught. If she went the route of many other 'annoying kid genius' characters she'd always be haring off, getting herself into trouble and in over her head, but I love that she LISTENS to the others - and they're respecting and listening to her too. (And do we know how old she's meant to be? She's sort of introduced as 'Hardison's kid sister', but she also talks about having day gigs so she must be old enough to be out of school and working. Late teens/early 20s?) I thought it also worked really well how explicitly they drew the parallels between Breanna and Hardison (and Parker) at the start of Leverage, both for endearing us to her character and for showing us how much our original team have matured and grown.

And how lovely is Hardison's new career direction?! He's hacking, like, the GLOBAL POLITICAL SYSTEM.

I was a bit confused by the way Sophie's leadership of the group wasn't really addressed a lot. We knew - from the end of the original series and from the 'what we've been up to' summary in the first ep - that Parker has been masterminding the trio, and yet very quickly after Sophie's return she just takes control. It's addressed really briefly but not resolved, and then in the eighth episode it seems like Parker has purposefully stepped back to allow Sophie's leadership as part of them supporting her through her grief, but I feel like we missed a step there. Not that I WANT conflict between our faves!

How amazingly, completely gorgeous is their new building? The outdoor courtyard area? The bar and the high, stained glass ceiling?! That cool stables (?) entryway??! (Do they actually live there? What happened to Sophie's inital reluctance to leave her home and Nate's things?)

I do wish that we'd seen some of our old favorite side characters, or at least heard how they're doing. Obviously the focus in the first set of episodes needs to be establishing the new characters and team, so I'll cross my fingers that we get Maggie, Sterling (possibly as a couple), and Taggert and McSweeten AT LEAST. I also have a big soft spot for Hurley and Peggy. Even just a throw-away reference to how they're doing would make me happy! Also the other 'shadow team' - i.e. Archie and Chaos etc. would be fun.

I have to admit - and it's just my personal bias - that I expected more from The Card Game Job episode. The whole ren faire was fun (and 100% worth it just for seeing Elliot as a knight) but I thought that we were going to get more of the cut-throat world of competitive collectible TCG tournaments etc. And I know that this show requires a bit of suspension of disbelief, BUT: an amazing, special, one-of-a-kind card and it's not even in a sleeve?!?!

I liked the idea of the The Mastermind Job, but I did think it was a bit thin explaining how this guy had SO MANY details about their cons - was IYS actually tracking Nate so closely, or did Nate spill a LOT of stuff at the bar? And I wish that the revelation that Nate had elided Sophie's role as a way to protect her privacy had come from HER rather than the random fake-Nate somehow figuring it out mid-showdown.

I liked the way that having some new team members meant the 'are we the bad guys? is this a tad morally dubious?' questions got asked.

Finally: Sophie misspoke when she said Nate's heart gave out, right? Was there any way we don't think it was his liver? His poor, poor abused liver?

Anyway, I'll probably have more collected, coherent reponses later, but overall I am SO happy to have this show back.

[neonponders]

I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself @hoegrove your Bond!au is just too strong.

Based on their post here ~

I hope you like it 🥺 🌹 it’s on ao3, if that’s easier for anyone to read 🌹

• • • • • • •

013.

Fucking 013. Not 00.

Which meant he’d have to wait for whoever got the 00 status he deserved to either die or become incompetent.

“Congratulations, Hargrove. Report to HQ for briefing.”

He’d rather be headed for the private plane that would take him to some tropical location, where capitalist monsters waited for his bullet.

Hargrove stepped out of the elevator onto the spacious floor. He really wished HQ would renovate. The concrete floors, glass walls, and metal beams were urban but not chic.

He found the corresponding desk of his... “partner” of sorts. Every number had a letter. The computer and the muscle. As Hargrove removed his outer garment, though, only the computer desk was present, while the person - 

“Could you not dump your nasty jacket on my work station?”

Hargrove sighed and found the loon - on a bicycle. He frowned. “What the hell are you doing on a bike inside?”

“It helps me think,” Q said, riding slow laps in between the cubicles. Granted, there weren’t many of them, and Hargrove was pretty sure he’d only ever seen Q and maybe three other people on this entire floor, unless there was a crisis.

Maybe that’s why he had yet to be promoted to 00. Too much peace.

“Take your jacket off my seat!”

“Jesus Christ,” Billy cursed. He balled up the ruined jacket and threw at the bastard’s head. To his credit, he didn’t crash into anything. “Clean freak.”

“That’s Q to you,” he barked, dumping the raggedy garment into the nearest bin.

“Sure, Steve,” he purred, knowing his partner loathed the fact that he had figured out his real name. Hargrove wouldn’t work for just anybody, after all. And he was a detective first. Hired gun second.

He didn’t actually need Q. So he told himself. But Steve sure came in handy.

“So help me god, Billy. Did you at least keep my pen intact?”

“Your what?” He landed in Steve’s spinning chair, forcing the guy to lean his bike against his cubicle and stand with his hands on his hips.

“My pen, dip shit. You know, the one that’s basically a Swiss army knife. The one sanctioned by HQ to one Asshole Hargrove - ”

“Oh, that,” he said distantly, gazing out at the city around them. “It broke.”

Not surprised, nor impressed, Steve remarked, “You realize that if some nerd civilian reverse-engineers half the shit you lose, we might be genuinely compromised, right?”

“Then make better stuff.”

“Stop losing it, and you might actually be 00 one day.”

Billy glared with all the menace a man could while having his chair rolled out of the way. Steve shoved him aside with his foot and entered his computer password before navigating to the corresponding case briefs. Billy let his head recline on the seat while Steve went through the list.

“Target?”

“Deceased.”

“Car?”

“Totaled, but returned.”

“Pen: lost in action. Suspect?”

“Null. Excellent in bed, though.”

“You’re a cliche.” Steve glared from behind his glasses.

“Stop giving me cases with attractive people, then,” Billy smirked. “Who’s my next target? Tell me they live somewhere expensive and sunny.”

“Like a desert?”

“No, like Marseilles.”

“Oh, Marseilles is nice,” Steve chirped distractedly. “If you like French people.”

Billy snorted, but it evolved into laughter. “What’s wrong with French people?”

“They’re French.”

“Wow. Picky.”

Steve giggled under his breath and said, “I’m sorry I don’t have a gig for you in France.”

“I’m sure I’ll managed,” Billy sighed. “What do you have?”

“Something more domestic.”

Billy exhaled through his nose, warranting a curious peek from Steve. “Yeah, that’s what I’m stuck with. One zero and domestic jobs.”

“You’ll get there,” Steve reassured. Softly. Which was...odd.

Billy’s head rolled over the back of the chair to stare at him. Steve quickly added, “If you stop breaking the shit I loan you.”

Billy looked toward the ceiling, pressing his lips into an impertinent line...

“Q.”

“Hm?” he asked while typing away.

“There’s a bird in here.”

Steve looked at him. “What?” and followed his gaze up to the metal rafters. A grey bird gazed right back at them. “Oh shit - ”

Billy already had his pistol out. One shot knocked the bird off its perch. It landed with a loud, metallic clatter.

Steve's body doubled over when Billy wrenched his arm in the direction away from the device, and not a second too soon. The force of the explosion knocked them both over one cubicle and roughly onto the concrete floor.

"Q," Billy growled when the guy scrambled to his feet and back to his desk. He reached underneath it, uncovering a baseball bat of all things, and swung right over his hard drive. Metal and plastic debris rained over the floor, and then he ran to the router standing on a low piece of furniture along the wall. He wrenched its cables out and smashed the thing too.

Then he looked up at Agent Hargrove. "We're compromised."

Billy was already moving toward the scattered carcass of the spy bird. They didn't have a lot of time. Already, another explosive rumble sounded beneath their feet, on another floor. Billy quickly found the piece he was looking for, and pocketed it before yanking Steve in the direction of the stairs.

"I need a car."

"You know where the garage is."

"You're coming with me. That thing heard both of our names."

Steve defended, "We both lost our original identities when we signed up for this bullshit."

"We don't know what we're dealing with yet," Billy reasoned. "Until then, you're safest with me."

"Well that's pathetic." His words might've landed better if they didn't rattle out of him while they did their best to sprint down several dozen flights of stairs.

"You're really sassing me right now? What are you gonna do with that bat?"

Steve ignored that to proclaim, "We need to get to my place. I have a backup computer connected to the system."

"And how do we know it's not compromised too?"

"Because it's mine. Not the system's."

Billy could only frown at him ever so briefly, but he pocketed that information away for another time. For now, they descended into the belly of their organization, where the garage of vehicles rested beneath the city. There, another argument awaited him.

"You're not taking the goddamn Camaro."

"I'm taking the goddamn Camaro," Billy retorted, already ripping the keys out of the cabinet Steve unlocked for him.

"It's loud as all hell!"

"So are you. Get in the car."

Another explosion shook the concrete columns of the garage. Steve ducked his head and coughed on the dust while he threw himself into the car a millisecond before Billy left tire tracks on the floor. "What are you doing?"

Steve was pressing buttons on the dash. Somewhere behind them, a mechanical part was moving in the car. "We don't know how many birds infiltrated the building. I'm rotating the license plates - egh!"

He collapsed against his seat when the car angled up to speed onto the city streets. Billy mused, "And what can you do for speed trap cameras?" and held up a middle finger to the camera angled over the four-way intersection.

"Nothing yet. We'll have to trade cars eventually."

"Not soon enough."

"What?" Steve all but screeched, and turned around to see behind them. "At least you're not the only stereotype in this business."

He got the words out a moment before the large, black SUV rammed into the back of the Camaro. "Put your seatbelt on."

"IT IS ON!"

Steve provided his own chorus of swears and exclamations while Billy navigated through the city, tossing his partner left and right in his seat, avoiding another collision with the SUV that would spin them out of control. When Steve began digging through the glove box and lowering his window, Billy bellowed, "What are you doing?"

"A PEN!" he yelled before throwing something behind them. A second later, the SUV's front lifted off the road so the whole thing fell onto its side.

It was Billy's turn to exclaim, "Those things explode?"

"YES THEY EXPLODE!"

"YOU NEVER TOLD ME THEY EXPLODE!"

"WHY DO YOU THINK I TOLD YOU NOT TO TAP THE PEN THREE TIMES?"

"YOU ARE SO GODDAMN LUCKY MY DICK HASN'T BEEN BLOWN OFF."

Steve pointed out the front windshield. "BILLY!"

Another SUV narrowly rammed them from the side, but Billy pulled on the brake and swung the car into a 180. Some civilian took the brunt of that particular attack, but Billy officially needed to get them the hell out of here. Whoever wanted their heads for trophies didn't care about national news.

Which was possibly the most dangerous piece of this mess. Arguably the most powerful component of a country was its press, and these assholes didn't care if they earned the media's or internet's attention.

It was another aspect in itself that Billy had ridden in one too many black SUV's. That would also account for someone's ability to install too many explosive birds in the building.

"Billy?" Steve piped when he drove down the stairs leading to the boardwalk along the river. Billy focused on the new car behind them. He looked across the river at the opposite riverbank, where the walls sloped up. He needed to get over there.

The car rattled as he sped up a flight of stairs to the street once more, but did a hard left onto the bridge that crossed the river.

Down the stairs again, this time slaloming over the ramped wall, keeping an eye on his rearview to see how tunnel-visioned the SUV behaved.

A hand gripped the wide bell of his forearm. "Billy," Steve rasped. There wasn't a stairwell at the end of this riverbank. Just a concrete wall.

Billy went up the ramp, and braked with a hard turn on the steering wheel. The SUV tried to brake in time, but the Camaro clipped the back tire, and it spun right over the side into the river.

Billy k-turned back in the direction of the stairs. He drove seamlessly into the midday, traffic, turning on his windshield wipers against the heavy drizzle. He glanced at Steve, who had not let go of his arm. At a stoplight, Billy's other hand overlapped his, earning a pale, ghostly stare.

"We need to get to the subway. Then your place."

Despite his shock, Steve nodded and said, "Two blocks down."

Billy found the station, lodged their car in a back alley between a Polish restaurant and a laundromat, and circled the car to help Steve out. "I'm fine," he said even as his knees gave out and he hung between his arms on the car door and roof.

"I see that," Billy replied. He nestled in close to wrap an arm around Steve's softer waist. "Put your weight on me."

He did, and Billy kicked the door shut behind them. "Do you have a metro card?"

"Do I have a metro card?" Billy snorted on their way to the entrance.

"You can't jump the turnstiles."

"I'm not leaving a paper trail. I don't know if my cards are compromised too. That bird sat right over your desk, pretty boy. Someone wanted a real close eye on you. Maybe even kill you. We can try and figure out who else was under surveillance later."

They did not earn approving looks from vaulting the turnstiles, but they made it to the train, and then forty minutes or so later, Steve's apartment. By then, his color had returned to his face, and Billy couldn't help but tease, "Do you always bring colleagues home?"

Steve sighed and didn't grace that with a response. He unlocked his door, and Billy perused the living room and its bay window. The place was nice. White walls. Light wooded floors. Colorful dish ware. A bedroom off to the right with an unmade bed, and a dining room to the left with an array of folders and a laptop on it.

Billy placed the broken bird piece beside the laptop. "I don't know how much you can get out of this. But it's a start."

Steve maneuvered around him and sank into the chair. "Help yourself to the kitchen."

Billy did exactly that, and only found a few hints at the neurosis of a tech genius: Steve's pantry was entirely filled with bags of chips and hot sauce. His apartment also wielded the same characteristic Steve used at work: cleanliness. There wasn't so much as a lingering cereal dish in the sink.

Billy went about scrambling some eggs, frying up some bacon, and heating up a box of leftover diner hash browns. He poured a bottle of white and brought the dishes to the table. He set the glass of wine in view of the laptop. "For your nerves. Try to eat something."

"Thanks," Steve murmured. He didn't touch his food, but Billy sat opposite him and plunged his fork into his eggs.

After he cleaned his plate, he started tapping the back of the laptop screen, causing whatever Steve was reading to bounce. As if tossed out of a reverie, Steve inhaled sharply and took his glasses off to scrub his face. Naturally, Billy chuckled and plucked up the glasses to see how the other half lived...

"Steve."

"Hmm?" he mumbled from inside his hands.

"Explain to me why your glasses are asking for 004 authentication?"

His hands lowered so he could see Billy wearing his glasses and the nearly invisible screens layered inside the glass. The muscles of his jaw ticked as he reached across the table. Billy let him remove the glasses, but his stare did not waver until Steve relented, "I'm not 004 anymore."

Billy blinked, hard, as he absorbed that. "When were you an agent?"

Steve pushed his fork around his plate. "Right as you joined."

"Am I really going to have to pull your teeth for this? Because someone must know who you are, or were. Knows enough to keep an eye on you. How many other 00s are retired into office work?"

"My whole team," he heaved. Surrendered. "It all happened too fast. I was elevated to 00 status and just as quickly flunked out of it. Then they gave me you."

Steve exhaled as if there was a whole lot more there. Then he added, "Consider this a mentorship."

Billy huffed and relaxed against his chair. "So my guardian angel is the one keeping me from my promotion."

It took a second, but Steve processed that and lifted his head. "What?"

"You. I don't get to be a 00 until a 00 gives me the okay."

Something shy of a grimace flitted across Steve's features. "Maybe you'd be one, if you learned how to say thank you. You're not god. I've saved your ass at least twice without even being in the same country as you."

"You're a P.T.S.D. case with a laptop. That's all."

"And you're a gun with childhood trauma and abandonment issues. Welcome to the fucking club. We have special glasses."

He stabbed his hash browns and started eating. Billy crossed his arms and brooded in silence.

Abandonment issues, my ass, he mused, but could not help but watch the man opposite him eat. He'd never actually seen Steve eat. He'd certainly always been available whenever Hargrove called, regardless of timezone or courtesy of sleep.

It's hypocritical to call him an angel and treat him as disposable...after you hauled him around like precious luggage.

Billy didn't like that thought one bit.

This job wasn't actually a business. It was a lifestyle. One that didn't grant angels or precious items. And the same voice that called Steve, Angel, kept whispering in Billy's mind.

Compromised.

Something moved in his periphery and he had his gun out before he even thought twice. "What the hell is that?"

Steve, to his credit, hadn't flinched. "The cartoons refer to it as a pussy cat. She wants your bacon."

The fluffy ginger that had jumped onto the table stared Billy down until he relinquished his last piece of bacon. "Why am I not surprised that you have a cat?"

"Considering your reaction, I'd say you were petrified."

"Shut up, Steve."

"No guns on the table."

Billy groaned and set the device on the console table behind him. "Yes, dear."

It was going to be a long case.

[cycat4077]

Real Talk

Words: 1639 Warnings: angst Pairing: Sonny x Reader AO3 here

This idea popped into my head after that phone call Sonny received which seemed to be a date. So, ignore the fact that we know that the person on the other end was Nicole. 🙃

Part 2

---

You had met Sonny at Fordham while taking your law degree. A few classes together and the two of you, with a couple other people, hit it off. Yes, you were part of that group Sonny mentioned to Amaro. The group that he went bowling with. In fact, you were even one of the “pretty girls”. However, that’s where it stayed. You and Sonny often bounced ideas off one another and studied for exams.

Any girl would be a fool to say that they didn’t have a crush on Carisi at least at some point, and you were no different. But the thing was, your friendship meant so much more. It was uncomplicated. Just two people who supported one another; borrowed ears to let off steam from time to time.

When graduation rolled around though, you and Sonny saw less and less of one another. His detective gig left him such little free time to begin with that without classes, it was virtually impossible to find the time to get together. And, as so often happens, the texts and calls grew fewer and far between until six whole years had come and gone.

That all changed however, when you walked into the Manhattan DA’s office to cross reference about a case that you were working in Brooklyn. You could recognize that lanky, well-dressed man anywhere. He was speaking to a colleague, using his hands like he always did to get his point across. Your heart rose to your throat.

“Sonny?” you speak up, but you already know the answer. He swivels on his heels to face you, his features easing and eyes lighting up upon recognition.

He crosses the room in just a few long strides, a huge smile plastered on his face. He speaks your name and scoops you into a hug. It catches you by surprise at first, but the warmth of his arms around you – back around you after so many years, makes you genuinely happy. “How are ya?” he exclaims. “It’s been too long.”

You make small talk for a little while, catching up on what you’d missed. Sonny was an ADA now, finally biting the bullet and moving on from SVU. You tell him that you’re working in Brooklyn, not on criminal cases, that was always more Sonny’s speed, but still enjoying the career that your time at Fordham had awarded you. It was decided that you and Sonny needed to make grabbing coffees and lunches a regular occurrence, and so the two of you reserved a space in your calendar for the first one of many.

It was nice to rekindle that friendship. For all the time you knew one another at school, you had always had one another’s backs. There were never any judgements and the two of you could talk about anything and everything. Sonny would always make sure you were doing okay, seemingly knowing just when you needed him to talk to. This dynamic worked both ways too. It used to be that Sonny would phone you up, sometimes in the middle of the night, because he had come off a particularly hard case. You always picked up and it was that mutual friendship and care that got you both through many tough times.

Unfortunately, in those six years, that type of relationship was something you hadn’t found since. Seeing Sonny again made you realize just how much you had missed him. Not to mention that he had gotten more handsome and impossibly sweeter. You hated to admit that there was a flutter in your stomach every time he would smile and a heat that rose to your cheeks when he’d give you a quick peck as a friendly hello.

Little did you know that Sonny was starting to feel that way too and, after a few months of coffee and lunch meet-ups, he invited you to have dinner with him. You suggested a place, one of the few restaurants which were open for dine-in and one that you loved.

Was it a date? You weren’t exactly sure, but you worked up the courage to make tonight the time to tell him how you felt. You put forth extra effort in your appearance, styling your hair and slipping into a nice dress. Stepping in front of the mirror, you take a deep breath and tell yourself that it’s now or never.

Then your phone rings. It’s Sonny. You pick up and greet him, smiling.

“Hey,” he says. “I just finished my paperwork n’ am ready ta leave.”

“Great!” you say eagerly. “I’ll call to confirm our reservation -”

“Ah, that sounds great,” Sonny sounds in your ear.

“- and I’ll make my way over there.”

 “Ah, that sounds great,” he says again. His voice sounds genuinely excited. “Listen, I’ll meet you there in an hour.”

“Sounds good, Sonny.” You take a breath, softening your voice. “I’m really looking forward to tonight.”

“Yeah, me too.” You can hear the smile in his voice.

“See you soon. Bye.”

“Alright, bye.”

A fluster of nervousness and excitement churn in your gut as you grab your coat and purse and head for the door.

---

Arriving at the restaurant, you’re taken to a table out of the way in one of the back corners. All the better to have a conversation, you think to yourself.

Just as you’ve gotten comfortable, your phone rings again. Sonny Carisi flashes on the screen. Your heart rises to your throat, unsure why he would be calling. “What’s up?” you answer.

“I’m gonna be late,” he begins apologetically. “Rollins had a family emergency and I was helping her take care of a few things.”

“Oh, okay,” you stammer out, slightly confused. “Be careful.”

“Yeah, I will. See you in a bit.” The line clicks off.

Amanda Rollins. A major figure in Sonny’s work life. His partner as a detective and still a member of the squad he tries cases for. Many the times you had heard about Rollins: how hard she had things, her problematic family, her daughter Jesse. And each mention of her would be rooted in Sonny’s desire to help her out somehow. Cook her dinner or help her with her baby. He’d tell you how great of a detective she was and how she, too, had his back.

However, Sonny could be gullible. He made decisions with his heart rather than his head and sometimes that let people take advantage of his kindness. So, you were often cautious on his behalf when he’d tell you about the things he did for Amanda. Sometimes it seemed that she, whether intentional or not, would accept Sonny’s kindness without giving him much in return. And by the way he used to talk about her, you suspected he had developed some sort of feelings for her. But through these conversations, he also invertedly revealed how she kept him at arms length. Now, from Sonny’s phone call, you suppose that things had never changed.

You sit there for what feels like an eternity, the waiter returning to check in on you a few times, until finally you see him round the restaurant corner towards your booth.

“I’m so sorry,” he begins, taking a seat. “Rollins – her dad had a stroke n' she needed ta fly out immediately. I arranged for her mom to watch her kids n' informed Liv what was goin' on. I feel so bad. I mean, she’s been through so much n' she really has no one…” He looks up at you then, noticing your attire. His eyebrows lift as he drinks in how pretty you look. But your face tells a different story.

You feel so disappointed. Not in Sonny, but rather, in yourself. You thought that the history you shared would bring you closer together. A solid and mutually supportive friendship was something you longed for in a significant other. Something for love to build off of and grow. Now though, seeing how Sonny was still holding out hope for Amanda, still giving her every ounce of himself with little in return, you couldn’t take it.

You catch Sonny’s gaze. “It was silly of me to think that this was a date.” Your voice is quiet, sadness brimming your words.

He stares back at you confused. His brow knits, “No!” he begins, the realization hitting him. “It was – is a date!” He reaches for your hand, placing his overtop. “I asked you here because it felt so good to reconnect with you. I missed you. We get along so easily and it’s nice to have someone to talk to again. I always thought you were attractive too, both physically and intellectually. When we were at Fordham we were always just friends but seeing you again and having you back in my life, well, it made me feel something.”

Sonny looks positively hurt, yet he understands how all this must seem to you. “I missed you too, Sonny. So much,” you reply, voice a little unsteady. “And I care about you more than you could ever imagine.” You give his hand a small squeeze and he closes his eyes for a moment, knowingly. “Except, I can’t be a placeholder while you wait for Amanda to come around. It’s not fair to me. It’s not fair to you either, but that decision has to come from you.”

There it is. All feelings laid bare. There’s nothing more you can say. You have and always will support Sonny and you always will be his friend. However, those lines between friendship and something more were starting to blur and before you give your heart away, you need to know if Sonny truly wishes to accept it.

Sonny studies your face, his mind racing. Then he looks down, squeezing his eyes shut. “I know,” he says running a thumb along your knuckles. "I know."

---

Tag list? @barbasbodaciousbeard @adarafaelbarba @teamsladsandgents @caracalwithchips @averyhotchner

❤

[vagrantblvrd]

AU where Castle buys The Old Haunt and realizes a few months down the road one of the bartenders has a side job of Solving Crimes?

“I’m sorry, what was that, Castle?”

And Castle, okay, is like.

“I was surprised too, but if you don’t believe me, just ask him.”

In which the “him” in question is the guy waiting in an interrogation room because a couple of uniforms checking out reports of gunshots found him standing over the body and also Castle got a phone call and anyway.

“Huh.”

And then shenanigans in which Kevin Ryan sort of kind of works for Castle???

(“You totally do, I sign your checks, and also there was the whole...thing about new management back when I bought the place and you call me ‘Boss’ when I walk in and - “)

He also used to be a cop until Reasons and now tends bar and the things about crime solving on the side because friends and friends of friends and also random people have heard about him, and really, you know. It’s more of a hobby.

“A hobby.”

Kevin grins, all sunshine and flowers and Esposito is slowly, so slowly, losing his shit because Kevin Ryan is sweet, polite. The kind of guy everyone likes. Beckett likes him and they just found about about him an hour ago.

(But he’s a little shit to Esposito.)

“Yeah, I mean. Some people knit, I, uh. Do this?”

Like the man doesn’t know how he got into the whole solving crime by moonlight gig.

“Well, I mean. That’s a sometimes thing. Usually I’m tending bar at night.”

>:((((((((((((((((((((((((((

And on and on and maybe, idk, there’s a whole...werewolf thing in there too because you know me and werewolves, right?

Kevin had problems adjusting after being bitten on a case – “It’s a whole story, I wouldn’t want to bore you,” but he’s got a handle on it now, and anyway.

Kevin and his life of tending bar at The Old Haunt, Solving Crimes, and the whole being a Werewolf deal, and he’s like, it is what it is, you know? (Alternatively, “Life in the big city, never a dull moment!!1!” like Kevin hasn’t lived there all his life, and also what does that even mean, and is he trying to say the werewolf thing is just something that happens in New York? Is he???)

But also the thing where he’s having the best damn time fucking with Detective Esposito and also flirting and poor Esposito just doesn’t know what the hell is going on?

And then there’s the time they have to Kiss For Great Justice – or, okay, to avoid getting caught by some baddies and anyway, such a hardship, you know?

Plus, Kevin with his werewolf strength just manhandling Esposito – totally not something Esposito would like to experience again in a different setting – and anyway.

That was a thing that happened, and no, Castle, Esposito will not go into detail so just stop taking notes.

(Kevin off to the side, though? Thinking about it.)

And then, idk, some Thinking and Kevin gets a P.I. license – makes sense to do it since he’s got all these people coming to him for help and anyway, yes.

Montgomery is like – “Not only do we have Castle helping out on cases, but now there’s a P.I.?”

And Kevin’s like “Only sometimes, though?” like that makes it better, but he’s a damn good bartender and Montgomery’s like, maybe if I drink enough I’ll forget about all of this and also it will become someone else’s problem</i> because if ever there was a reason to drink it would be Beckett and her team and anyway, shenanigans.

Castle lets Kevin turn part of The Old Haunt’s basement into space for the P.I. gig – files and such. Boring paperwork.

Sometimes he meets with clients upstairs in the bar – before the place opens up for the night or whenever, and Castle is just ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ about it because what mystery writer doesn’t love a good P.I. story?

Also, also, later in the Nikki Heat series a P.I. shows up who lives to ~torment Ochoa and make his life miserable and anyway?  (Kevin’s like :DDDDDDDDDDDD about it because of course he is.)

(Plus maybe there’s some charity cause around Halloween or whatever with a short story about a werewolf P.I. - come on, Elrod’s got the vampire P.I. in prohibition-era Chicago, why shouldn’t Castle have modern day werewolf P.I.?)

ANYWAY.

Yes.

Esposito is like >:(((((((((((((( whenever Kevin’s cases and theirs line up and Beckett sticks Kevin with him – “At least yours knows proper police procedure/protocol, Esposito!” and also “Do you really want to trade, Esposito?” because they love Castle, of course they do, and yet.

Doesn’t matter though, because Shenanigans still happen.

(And, okay. Kevin’s helpful and also saves his life a time or two – “I mean, I didn’t know we were keeping score?” and there are times it’s nice to have someone to talk to, like on stakeouts and such.)

Plus, it’s always kind of hilarious watching the Big, Tough Guys zero in on Kevin as the ~weak link and then running into the brick wall of his werewolf constitution?

And also Kevin and Esposito sparring together not long after they meet and Beckett keeps sticking the two of them together and Esposito is like, yeah, yeah, sure. Guy says he was in narcotics, mentioned doing a hefty stint undercover before everything went to hell, but just look at him! Definitely got bullied in school, you know?

So sparring and Kevin all “If you insist,” and Esposito being like “Wait, no, I - “ because Kevin’s smirking and he has a bad feeling about things, and also Esposito suddenly remembers how Kevin put that guy who charged him on the ground in nothing flat, didn’t even break a sweat doing it. Which. The guy in question was easily twice Kevin’s size and -

Anyway.

The sparring matches early on where Esposito learned Kevin can handle himself and also that cold showers are a lifesaver, y’know?

Also the thing with all the flirting and whatnot and at some point Esposito is like oh, no, he’s hot, but it’s a realization quickly followed by oh no, he wears sweater vests unironcially and however will he be able to reconcile the two?

And Kevin okay, standing there watching Esposito have these dual realizations – Esposito and his Night of Epiphanies brought on by too much to drink or a concussion and Kevin shows up after being drunk/concussion-dialed and anyway.

“Well, if I thought you’d remember this in the morning I’d have a suggestion that would take care of both those problems of yours, but since you are, what say you sleep it off/get that head checked.”

And then Kevin just being :DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD the next day and Esposito has no idea why, but he’s rightfully distrustful of it, and anyway.

They figure it out in the end and all that good stuff.

(P.S. Castle gets Kevin a vest to wear when they’re going into Dangerous Situations that says P.I. or something along those lines? Kevin is like *eye-roll*, but not so secretly loves the thing because it makes Esposito *eye-roll* harder, and anyway, yes.)

[mercurysnitch]

1976 Guitar (200 follower celebration)

Summary: An Australian runaway walks into a London pub... and finds herself having a drink with the one and only Roger Taylor.

A/N: As promised, my little celebration piece. I actually started this after I hit 150 followers, but I put it aside because I wanted to work on other things, and then decided to keep it for my next follower milestone. Which ended up taking a lot longer than I was anticipating, but hey, we got here in the end. 

Just fyi for clarity, the reader here is Australian, but living in London after finishing journalism training. Yes, even in the 70s London was full of runaway Aussies. But it must have seemed a lot further away in the days before instant messaging and video chat and free phone calls over the internet.

Title is from a Skyhooks song, recorded well after the 70s, incidentally. The bits in italics are lyrics from the song. This isn’t a song fic, and I honestly can’t remember why this is set in 1976 (I think it just sort of popped into my head like that) but those particular lyrics seemed quite fitting.

Warnings: Drinking, light swearing

*********************************************************

...one night I met a girl at the Sebel bar

And she taught me how to play that 1976 guitar

London, 1976

You decided you liked English pubs soon after you moved to London. They were cosier than the airy places you were used to back home, and the clientele were a lot less rough. Most of the time.

Your favourite pub was your local, just around the corner from your poky little second-floor flat. Decent food, good drinks, and interesting people. The bands playing on Saturday nights were always worth a listen too. Tonight, though, was a weeknight, which meant you were there for a stiff drink and maybe a nice greasy pub meal.

You hardly looked at the bartender as you flopped onto a stool. He floated over almost instantly anyway. "What can I get yer?" "Whiskey please" you ordered, attempting to be polite but mostly sounding tired. The barman smiled. "Coming up." It was fairly empty in the pub, so he returned with your drink almost immediately. You smiled gratefully and wasted no time taking your first sip. But you'd barely swallowed it, still dealing with the afterburn, when you heard a huff of surprise from a neighbouring stool.

You turned in the direction of the noise to discover the source: a youngish bloke with shaggy, pale blonde hair and big blue eyes. He looked strangely familiar, but you couldn't think where you recognised him from. If you weren't so annoyed you would've been taken aback by how attractive he was. Instead you glared at him. "What's your problem, mate?" He flashed you an annoyingly pretty smile. "Nothing. Just don't see many girls drinking whiskey like that." "Like what?" you shot back. "Like they do it all the time. Suits you, though." He flashed the smile again, and you felt your anger ebbing away.

Seeing the smile again seemed to jolt your memory. "Fucking hell," you gasped, "you're Roger-" "Don't say it" Roger hissed, cutting off your exclamation. "You'll tell the whole pub and then I won't get a moment's peace all night." You immediately looked downcast. "Sorry." Roger smiled reassuringly. "It's alright."

You eyed Roger curiously. "So tell me, what's the drummer from Queen doing in a place like this?" He broke into a cheeky grin. "I could ask you the same question" he said flirtatiously. "I've had a very long day and I live around the corner" you told him. "What about you?" "We used to play here, in the early days" he explained. "I always liked the atmosphere, and the people are always… interesting."

Suddenly you noticed him eyeing you up with curiosity. "I like your accent but I don't recognise it. Where're you from?" he asked casually. "Australia" you told him cheerfully. You noticed his expression fall slightly. "Not from Sunbury, I hope" he joked. You grinned cheekily. "Melbourne, actually. But I don’t blame you for not liking Sunbury." Roger was shocked. "You know about that?" You nodded. "I was there. It was a great day, actually, for me at least." Suddenly you smiled. "Anyway, whoever thought booking Queen to play at Sunbury was a good idea clearly knew nothing about bloody Sunbury. Or Australians, frankly." Roger smiled grimly at the memory. "God that was a shit gig. Might be the worst reception we've ever had." "If it makes you feel any better I enjoyed your set" you told him softly. "Queen's just a bit too sophisticated for most Aussies, I think." "But not you?" he asked, smiling. "But not me" you agreed.

"So what brought you to London anyway?" Roger asked. "I got sick of Australia" you told him. "It's so… behind, culturally. Anyone who's a serious artist or writer or whatever buggers off to London or somewhere first chance they get. So when you're still there you feel so far away from everything, it really feels like you're at the arse-end of the world sometimes." Roger grinned. "Arse-end of the world. I like that" he mused. "But I don't think you've come to the other side of the world just because you thought Australia was boring." You stared at him crossly. "Oh yeah? Why d'you reckon I'm here then?" you asked, challenging him with a look. "I think you ran away from something" Roger declared softly. "As far away as it was possible to get, just about."

You stared at him in shock. Now you thought about it, he wasn't exactly wrong. Suddenly your expression darkened. "Well, I suppose I'm running away from my mother and her bloody expectations of how I should live my own bloody life" you grumbled. He quirked an eyebrow. "Expectations?" "She wants me to be like her" you explained. "Find a nice bloke with a ‘suitable’ job, get married, buy a house, pop out a few kids, be a bloody housewife for the rest of my days." 

"And you don't want that" Roger said quietly. He understood how it felt to choose a life different from the one your parents wanted for you. "No, I bloody well don't" you agreed. "I want to achieve things with my life, have a proper career." Your mother had told you several times that there was no point trying to advance in your job since you were just going to quit when you got married anyway. The recent feminist revolutions seemed to have entirely passed her by, but then Australian society in general did have a tendency to run a bit behind on things like that.

Roger's gravelly voice pulled you out of your thoughts. "And what might that career be?" You smiled. "I'm a music journalist. Well, I'm a researcher right now, but I'm trying to freelance a bit on the side." Roger nearly laughed. "Y'know, most music writers seem not to like us for some reason" he observed wryly. "But I get the impression you might be an exception." You grinned. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” "Maybe I would" Roger quipped.

You both drank quietly for a while, Roger gazing at you curiously. "Y'know, you never did tell me what's driven you to drink on a Wednesday night" he commented, casually as could be. "You really want to know?" you asked incredulously. Roger nodded. "Wouldn't ask if I didn't, love." You sighed. "Well, I was supposed to have a date last night, but he stood me up, which was just a delightful way to spend an evening" you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "Then this morning my boss was even more of an arsehole than usual, and I found out my article that was supposed to be published next week got pulled from the issue, so god knows if it'll ever see the light of day now. And then when I got home the disappearing date had the nerve to ring with a pathetic excuse that I'm almost certain he made up, and apparently he was blind to the possibility I wouldn’t want to reschedule the date he missed until I spelled it out to him."

Roger winced in sympathy. "Christ, that is a shitty day." “Well, it seems to have improved since I got here” you observed, flashing a sly smile. Suddenly he grinned, not bothering to be subtle about eyeing you up again, almost appraisingly this time. “You know, I could make it even better, if you’re interested” he said smoothly. You cocked an eyebrow in interest. “Oh, really? And how exactly would you do that?” “Have dinner with you” he replied, not missing a beat.

You blinked, shocked. “You want to-to what, take me out to dinner? Why?” “You seem interesting” Roger said, shrugging. “Besides, I like having company when I’m out, being alone’s not as fun.” You had to agree with him there. “So is it a date, then?” you asked, still a little uncertain about the turn your evening was taking. Roger smiled cheekily. “If you want it to be” he said. He seemed nonchalant, but you thought you detected a flicker of uncertainty under the rock-star swagger. You grinned. “You know what, bugger it. Take me on a dinner date, Roger.”

******

There were some decisions in your life you would live to regret, but going on that first impulsive date with Roger wasn’t one of them. One date very quickly became many, and before you knew it Roger was a fixture in your life. Well, as much as a touring rock star could be, anyway. You found it oddly satisfying writing a postcard telling your mother you were going out with a shaggy-haired rock’n’roll drummer, knowing he was almost the complete opposite of the sort of person she wanted you to pair up with. You’d also finally managed to get an article published in the paper, but, predictably, your mother’s response to your postcard entirely neglected that achievement in favour of detailing every reason she thought you should leave Roger and return home immediately. None of them really held much weight, and the suggestion your actions would damage your reputation back home was in your view rather forcefully disproven by the enormous quantity of messages you received from both friends and relatives congratulating you on both the article and your choice of boyfriend.

You did eventually find the things your mother wanted for you with Roger, in a way. Technically you never actually got legally married, but you were deeply committed to each other. And you did end up with the big house and the family of your own, alongside a flourishing career in rock journalism. It wasn’t always easy, juggling everything and getting people to take you seriously as a journalist, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Sometimes, just sometimes, you were just a tiny bit grateful for that shitty day in 1976.

In '74 we got tight, in '75 we starred

Then we learned to play that 1976 guitar

**************************

A/N: I don’t think there’s too many Australianisms in here, but feel free to ask if you’re confused!

Taglist: (as always let me know if you want to be added/removed/think you should be on here but aren’t - it’s been so long some tags have changed since I added them) @wandering-at-midnight @royal-avengers @trumanjo @ohmygoditsanthonyedwardstark @itsametaphorbriansblog @wineandwanderings @simplyvictoria-93 @kotoamor @j1224 @florenceivy @jennyggggrrr @mercurycrowley

[spartanguard]

partners

summary: SVU detective Emma Swan's new partner is not what she expected. Thankfully, that's a good thing.

A/n: So I've been watching a LOT of Law & Order: SVU lately and when I got to the episodes where Stabler was partnered with Dani Beck, it just smacked with CS feels. This is just a bit of exploration of that, in honor of @optomisticgirl​ ‘s birthday!!

B—HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! Thank you for being the most amazing friend, and the best person to bounce crazy fic ideas off of (like this). I hope you have the most amazing day and I love you!!!!

Note: While there isn't any actual sexual violence in this story, it is an SVU AU, so it's mentioned.

rated T | 2.3k words | AO3

She met him while he was trying to arrest a perp who’d just walked.

“Are you Detective Swan?” he’d asked, and she immediately noticed his accent—the way it wrapped around her last name in a way that sent a shiver down her spine, but it was hard to tell if it was in a good way or not.

“Yeah, that’s me,” she tossed back.

“I’m your new partner. Killian Jones.”

She shook his offered hand (only later noticing he only had the one) and wondered—just what the hell were they about to get into?

[He was her second new partner in as many weeks. Graham, who she’d worked with since she joined the unit, had enough with special victims—with Boston in general—and had taken up some smalltown sheriff gig in Maine. Emma knew he’d be happier there, but it kind of left her in the lurch. They’d sent someone new over the week before, but her style didn’t gel with Mulan’s quite well enough—the woman was a damn fine detective but just...too different.]

Jones was new to special victims, transferring in on the recommendation of the captain at his previous precinct, where he’d worked in homicide. The dead victims, he was used to; the live ones—not so much.

It was pretty obvious on their first case together, when they were interviewing the young girl in the hospital. Emma—she’d seen enough of the world’s shitty side that little phazed her any more; growing up in the foster system made her uniquely suited to this line of work.

But Killian? He was visibly upset; she had to physically restrain him from running out of the hospital to start tracking down the culprit, holding him back by the sleeve of his leather jacket. They hardly had a lead on this. Something could be said for enthusiasm, but that didn’t excuse jumping ahead of themselves. That’s how you got into trouble—that was how criminals got away with murder (literally); she’d done that enough for the both of them, and had a feeling he had, too.

She felt they had a lot in common, actually; there was an obvious affinity for leather coats, but past that, there was something familiar in his eyes. Not that she’d met him before, or anything—just something in the determined set of his gaze when interviewing a suspect, in the empathetic way he handled the victim.

She still wasn’t sure if that was good or not, especially when he almost forgot protocol—almost lost them evidence—by rushing in too soon.

And she was half ready to walk into Captain Mills’ office to request a new partner (again) when she found him asleep at his desk with what could only be described as a murderboard spread out behind him. He looked younger and softer in his sleep, impossibly gorgeous with the way his long lashes rested on his cheekbones and gentle breaths from his full lips—and none of that was really pertinent, because the man had just researched his way to a solved case.

“Just who are you, Killian Jones?” she asked when she later woke him up with coffee and a bear claw (biting back a comment on the rumpled state of his usually pristine waistcoat-and-dress shirt combo).

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he drawled, holding her gaze intently before taking a long pull from his cup.

She knew she shouldn’t, but damn, did she.

It wasn’t until a couple cases later that she began to put together the pieces of him. It had been a doozy of a kidnapping, and he’d been on edge the whole time—right until they finally tracked down the little boy who’d been abducted. Emma slapped the cuffs on the miserable excuse for a father who’d taken him and Killian pulled the boy into his arms, visibly deflating once he knew he was safe.

She dragged him to their unit’s favorite bar that night and slid a glass of rum in front of him, along with the directive to “Talk.”

He downed it in one shot, then worried his bottom lip (much to Emma’s distraction) before saying, “Have I mentioned I have a daughter?”

Her eyebrows rose in surprise, but she let him explain without interruption. Her name was Alice; she was 8. He had sole custody, and with good reason: her mother, his ex-girlfriend, had kidnapped her from his apartment when she was only a few years old. “It’s the most scared I’ve ever been,” he confessed. “And today...it’s like I was right back in that moment.”

“I don’t blame you,” she replied, then finished her own whiskey. This was probably where she should drop some of her own tragic backstory, right? Like the scumbag who left her pregnant at 17, and the baby boy she put up for adoption? “Props to you for doing it on your own. I obviously couldn't.”

“Don’t beat yourself up, love; you gave him his best chance.” He gently set his hand over hers on the bar and she froze; not because he was cold—quite the opposite, actually—but between that tiny gesture of support and the understanding in those too-blue eyes, she felt more seen than she had by anyone in ages, even Graham.

It was suddenly too much, too intimate, and she yanked her hand away and ordered another drink. “Is your ex the name on your tattoo?” she asked, trying to put some space in between them (physically and emotionally).

It worked. He sat back up and tugged his right sleeve down with his prosthesis, hiding the ink, and she could almost see the walls go back up between them. “No. That’s...another story. For another time.” He stood and tossed some cash on the counter. “Alice is with my neighbor; I better go get her. See you ‘round.” And he left hastily.

It was what she wanted to happen. He’d suddenly gotten too close. So why did she feel like such an ass about it?

She was going to apologize at their next shift, but they got thrown into another case. And then another after it. It was a different kind of intense—a different kind of intimate—than that moment in the bar; very quickly, she had to trust him, and vice versa. That was something neither were predisposed to, but were managing to do...honestly, better than she had with anyone.

After putting another rapist behind bars, Killian said with a smirk, “I don’t mean to upset you, Swan, but I think we make quite the team.” And he winked (well, tried to), and she just blushed back, like she was a teenager in love all over again. That fact that would normally send her running but, for the first time in years, she wasn’t opposed to it—except for, y’know, the fact that he was her partner and they were coworkers and HR generally looked down on that kind of thing.

She doubted he was interested, anyway. They hadn’t really done anything outside of work since that night; he was always quick to get home to Alice, and she didn’t fault him that—especially when she finally met the kid, who was clearly her father’s daughter in all the best ways.

They got a call for a case late one weeknight; Emma easily beat him to the scene, since he had to make sure his neighbor could watch Alice at such an ungodly hour. She handed him a coffee when he got there and they made their way to the ME, to get the rundown on the vic. 

Emma had been paying attention, but it shifted from the examiner to Killian pretty quickly; he stiffened at the description of what had been done to the victim, then when white as the sheet covering her when it was pulled back.

“Eloise,” he whispered, like he’d seen a ghost.

“Wait—as in…?”

He nodded. “Aye. Alice’s mum.”

“Shit.”

They got what little information they could from the scene and then started to head for the precinct, but he was shaking so much, she insisted on driving.

“Are you gonna be alright?” she asked.

He let out a hollow chuckle. “No, probably not.” Then, one long breath later, “It was Gold.”

She nearly missed their turn at that. “Gold? As in, the mysterious Mr. Gold, owner of the pawn store chain?”

“One and the same,” Killian said, scrubbing a hand down his face. “It’s the same as with Milah.”

She would have asked who that was, but he was resting his prosthesis over the spot on his arm where she knew the tattoo was. And she got a sinking feeling in her stomach that this was going to be a rough case.

Once they got to the office (and she got some more coffee in him), Killian explained: Milah was his ex, his first love—but also Gold’s wife. And while Gold was well-known for being a shady individual, no one had ever been able to pin anything on him.

But Gold did find out about their affair, and Killian came home one day to find Milah—dead, attacked and killed in the same way Eloise had been hours ago. He wasn’t sure what their connection was—and he didn’t think Gold knew about his to Eloise, especially since she’d only been released from jail last week—“But I know it’s him. And I’m going to prove it this time.”

(Apparently, last time had ended with him getting into an altercation with one of Gold’s lackeys. He escaped with his life, but not with his left hand.)

Milah’s case had gone cold, but given the similarities, they were able to pull the files. It took a few weeks—several late nights, more than a few breakdowns, many tears (mostly Killian’s, but Emma’s and Alice’s as well) before they finally—finally—had the evidence to pin both murders on Gold.

Tracking him down was another thing altogether, but they finally caught up with him in his penthouse apartment. To no one’s surprise, he didn’t go willingly; a fistfight broke out between he and Killian. 

She was scared she’d have to intervene, knowing how personal it was. By the end of it, Killian had a black eye and a bloody lip, but Gold was in handcuffs, tossed unceremoniously in the back of a squad car. 

Killian watched the vehicle pull away, then turned to Emma, and wrapped his arms around her in a bruising hug. 

In any other situation, she would have gone stiff with shock, but she didn’t hesitate to lean right into him. Her desire to comfort him after that was just as strong as his need for comfort. 

But then he pulled back, cupped her cheek, and pressed his lips to hers. 

That did take her by surprise. 

But she was equally quick to reciprocate. 

Just as fast, it was over and he was walking away, leaving her utterly confused. Logically, she knew it was probably just an emotional reaction—a one-time thing. 

However: he kissed her like he meant it. She was familiar with empty kisses and single-night flings—and that...was a whole lot more. 

And she couldn’t deny it any longer: she wanted that more. 

She arrived at the precinct early the next morning, hoping to beat him there so they could talk about whatever that had been. She’d even gotten up an hour before she usually did so she could get them good coffee. But he was already there, filling out forms at his desk. 

“Hey,” she said, suddenly feeling incredibly awkward as she put the cup on his desk. “You taking care of the reports?”

“Um, yeah,” he stammered, pointedly focusing on the paperwork and not her. 

She glanced down at the desk, and that wasn’t a report—that was a transfer form. “You want to leave?” she whispered, the familiar pain of betrayal washing over her. He didn’t want to be her partner anymore? 

“Emma, I can’t stay here,” he said, only somewhat apologetic. (Also, though she didn’t realize it at the moment, it was the first time he’d used her given name.) “After this last case...it just wouldn’t be good form.”

“Fuck your good form, Jones!” she cried. “How can you say that, after everything these past few months? After last night?”

Calmly, he stood up and moved into her space. “I can’t be your partner any more, Emma,” he said, reaching up to brush her hair behind her ear. “Because I want to be more than that. And last I checked, Captain Mills frowned upon inter-unit relations.”

That was true; she really did, more than most. But then the reality of what Killian was saying hit: “You...you’d give up your position for me?”

“Aye,” he answered, simply, like it wasn’t the heaviest thing anyone had ever told her. 

What else was she supposed to do after a confession like that but kiss him? She rose up on her toes, gripped the lapels of his waistcoat, and found his lips with hers. He didn’t hesitate to pull her close and she was exceedingly glad no one else was in the squad room, because she’d never quite been kissed so closely to within an inch of her life as she’d been then.

(Also, it was a good thing no one was around when he pushed her onto his desk to deepen it further. If Captain Mills later noticed the forms were a bit crumpled, she didn’t say anything.) 

Killian ended up transferring back to his old precinct, old job. It turned out they missed him. Emma knew exactly why; her next partner, David, was great, but no match. 

Good thing she got to go home to Killian—and Alice—every night. 

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

thanks for reading, and send B all the birthday love! tagging some others:

@kat2609​ @thesschesthair​  @xpumpkindumplingx​ t @cocohook38​ @annytecture​ @shireness-says​ @ohmightydevviepuu​ @profdanglaisstuff​ @wingedlioness​ @word-bug​ @thisonesatellite​ @distant-rose​ @wellhellotragic​ @welllpthisishappening​ @let-it-raines​ @pirateherokillian​ @its-imperator-furiosa​ @fergus80​ @thejollyroger-writer​ @ineffablecolors​ @laschatzi​ @ive-always-been-a-pirate​  @stubblesandwich​​ @phiralovesloki​ @athenascarlet​ @kmomof4​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @snowbellewells​ @idristardis​ @scientificapricot​ @searchingwardrobes​ @donteattheappleshook​

[shy-violet-soul]

Puppy Love

Summary: When Uncle Dean takes his first solo niece-sitting gig, what could possibly go wrong? Characters: Dean Winchester, Castile, Sam Winchester x reader, & OC Erica from a story written by @kittenofdoomage titled “Rainbows in the Sun” Word Count: 2,600 Warnings: none! Tooth rotting fluff

A/N: I had the privilege and delight of reading @kittenofdoomage Supernatural series, “Rainbows in the Storm”, on Patreon. If you’re not a patron of hers, you are missing out! I quickly fell in love with this amazing story - her characterization and nail-biting cliffhangers kept me hooked the whole way through. But one little sentence in the Epilogue had me laughing, and my imagination ran away with me. This is for you, @kittenofdoomage !

Image found on https://wallpapersafari.com/w/kn7fwH

Dean Winchester didn’t brag about his assets often. But he had zero problem with his pride at the oft given praises his mouth had earned from the ladies. His lips had brought delight to many a babe. The current babe in his arms was no different.

The fact that she was four months old, and his niece, didn’t detract from his pride one iota.

Crossing his eyes, Dean happily blew raspberries continuously as he leaned down before smacking noisy kisses under her chin. Erica’s baby giggles burst forth as she waved her hands, and Dean had to do it again.

“Thhhhbbbffft,” he wagged his face side to side as he leaned down, letting his nose rub against her tiny chest tickingly before diving back under one round cheek and smacking more kisses. Dimples winked up at Uncle Dee, Erica’s still-baby-blue eyes gazing up at him with delight, and he fell a little more in love yet again.

“You’re adorable,” came his matter of fact observation. Erica grinned her agreement. “Good genes, darlin’. You got your mama’s nose, and I’m pretty sure your killer Winchester smile from your uncle, not your daddy.” With the ease of long practice, Dean swiped the burp cloth from his shoulder and dabbed at the drool on her tiny chin. “Do me a favor and smile a lot. Like me, not like Mr. Grumpy Pants Daddy.”

Delicate eyebrows knitted together as Erica cooed seriously. Dean nodded proudly. “That’s my girl. Now, your mama said not to worry about your bath. I think it’s because she doesn’t think I can handle it. You and I both know that’s crap, right?” Erica chewed intently on her fists in answer. “Right. So gimme one more giggle and then it’s ‘Rubber Ducky, You’re the One’. Here we go!”

One more time, Dean raspberried down, down to Erica’s sweet smiling face. Just as he started growling under her chin, her squeal changed into something weird. Several things crammed into Dean’s brain in about a millisecond.

One - Erica sounded like she yipped. Like, puppy yipped. But that couldn’t be. He was wrong.

Two - her soft, slightly drool-slimy chin was suddenly different soft. Like fluffy furry soft. Which also couldn't be. He had to be wrong.

Three - the chubby little fists she loved to chew on suddenly swiped claws against his face. Like, claws. Puppy claws. Which also so very much please couldn’t be.

Please, oh please, Dean wanted to be wrong.

Post millisecond, Dean yanked himself upright and felt his stomach drop straight to Rowena’s throne room.

A chubby, fluffy wolf pup - adorable, yes, but a freakin’ wolf pup - lay wriggling in his lap, snout wreathed in puppy smiles as it waved its paws up at him.

Dumbfounded, Dean sat frozen for a moment. He slowly stood up, holding the pup at arms length before gently setting it on the couch. Then, he frantically searched under the throw pillows at each end, under your blanket tossed over the back, even under the couch itself for his suddenly missing niece. No human baby surfaced.

His frantic gaze fell on the wolf pup. It lounged right where he’d laid it, studying him curiously. Erica’s cute lady-bug onesie and leggings stretched and gapped in equal measures around fluffy legs and paws, and the red barrette he’d painstakingly affixed into his human niece’s hair earlier sat holding a hank of creamy-brown fur straight up between its ears.

“Oh, crap”

At his whisper, the wolf pup smiled happily and launched itself at him. His reflexes kicked in and his arms scooped the little bundle against his chest, falling backwards to the floor. The pup wiggled its way up his chest and slopped a lick against his chin before gazing into his eyes lovingly.

Gazed with Erica’s still-baby-blue eyes.

“Son of a bitch!” Tucking pup-Erica under one arm, Dean dove for his cell phone. “Cas!” Pup-Erica playful clawed and nipped at his phone as he frantically tried to call Sam. No answer, straight to voicemail. Same thing for your phone. This was bad.

“CAS!”

“Hello, Dean.”

The hunter didn’t even hesitate, just thrust the pup at the angel.

“Fix this!” he bellowed, pup-Erica wiggling happily in his grasp at the sight of her other uncle. Castiel tilted his head as he stared at the pup.

“Hello, Erica. Are you enjoying your first shift?” She yipped as Castiel took her in his arms, slopping kiss after kiss on his face. “I’m happy to see you, too.”

Dean had braced his hands on his legs as he leaned down, head between his knees as he wheezed in air. Cas stared at him quizzically.

“Dean, are you alright?”

He raised a hand, wordlessly asking for a moment. “I think I’m having a heart attack. Or a stroke. Maybe an explosive ulcer,” he croaked out.

Nonplussed, Cas pressed two fingers against Dean’s forehead. “I detect none of these events occurring, Dean. Although your blood pressure is highly elevated, and you appear to be generating a migraine. I can’t heal that until your heart rate slows down. You should try to relax.”

Dean’s hands fisted onto Cas’s trench coat collars, pulling himself up to standing to glare maniacally into his friend’s placid gaze.

“My niece is a dog, Cas! I’m not going to relax! I’m going to be murdered when they get back! Sam’s gonna...” His grip loosened as his thoughts zoomed to your reaction. “She’s going to chew me to kibble.” Horror trembled in his whisper as he dragged his hands over his face.

Sad, tiny whining begged for attention as a tentative paw patted at his arm. Still dazed beyond comprehension, Dean blinked down at the blue eyes staring woefully up at him. By sheer habit, Dean tucked the little one into his arms, warmth filling his chest when she snuggled into his shoulder - just like human-Erica did. The high-pitched whine echoed from her chest into a full-fledged howl that Dean would later recall as ridiculously cute. But now, his niece was sad and needed her uncle.

“It’s alright, ladybug, it’s alright. Look, Uncle Dee’s ok. Uncle Cas and me are gonna take care of you, don’t you worry.” Instinctively, Dean moved to pat her back before switching gears to gently scritching her ears. “Cas, can you talk to her?”

“While I can speak to lycans in their wolf form, as a juvenile, she still has not learned words. She’s upset right now, but calming. However, she has forgotten in the urgency of the moment that she’s hungry.”

Dean’s eyes closed as this new challenge presented itself. When Erica whined again, cuddling closer, he snapped to attention.

“Alright. We’ve got a highly experienced hunter and an angel. We got this. We can take care of one baby wolfed-out lycan.”

Two destroyed bottle nipples and a spilled canister of powdered formula later, Dean wasn’t sure they had this at all. Cas currently sat at the kitchen table with Erica, dipping his fingers into a bowl of formula and letting her lick and suck to her heart’s content. However, the going was slow, so Dean was improvising plan B. He’d dug up one of his softest old tshirts and some of your hair ties. In moments, he had fashioned a teat that he hoped to kingdom come would work.

“Alight, Cas, give her here.” Frustrated and hungry, Erica growled as she tried to climb into the formula bowl, her nose and face liberally coated with the white liquid. Working in tandem, Cas started soaking the cloth teat in the formula while Dean wrapped his flannel shirt around the wriggling pup, using the sleeves to swaddle her still. Then, he cradled her in his elbow and mentally crossed his fingers. Erica nosed the soaked fabric curiously before giving a tentative lick, then a bit of a chomp. Two seconds later, she was sucking with gusto, tiny grunts of approval rumbling from her. When Dean pulled it away to resoak it, the pup was not impressed; demanding, squeaky barks let her uncles know to hurry it up! Both men chuckled as the feeding went on until Erica stopped sucking and just chewed.

“Good job, ladybug,” Dean praised as he unwound the flannel from about her. “Look at that fat little belly!” With a gentle touch, he tickled the soft pink skin, laughing again when she squirmed, panting happily. Dean handed her off to Cas while he snagged the bowl, carefully stepping over the drifts of powdered formula. “Gotta say, Cas, didn’t know you were so experienced with wolf baby care.”

“I once cared for a baby elephant who had been separated from his mother in the sub-Saharan plains. It’s pretty much the same thing.”

Water running as he washed the bowl, Dean sent a scoff over his shoulder at the angel.

“No, Cas. It really isn’t.” A pause as Dean fully turned to look at his friend. “Where is she?”

“Who?”

Dean’s eyes rolled so hard, they saw it from space. “The Duchess of Cambridge. Erica, you dumb ass!”

The angel looked down and glanced around him, his arms glaringly empty. “She’s not here.”

Dean’s left eyelid started twitching. Wasn’t that a symptom of a stroke? “I can see that. Why are you not holding her?”

“She wanted down.”

A faint cracking sound in his skull only faintly registered with Dean; probably a molar, but that was an issue for later. “She wanted down? That’s all you got? She wanted down?!” That migraine from earlier suddenly flared to life, and Dean nearly broke a bone in his scramble into the library.

“ERICA!!! Come to Uncle Dee, honey!” A cheerful yip and rhythmic claw clicking caught his ear, and Dean turned his head so quickly he gave himself a crick. Luck was on their side - Erica’s human baby clothes had hobbled wolf pup Erica, and her limping, lopping progress in their direction was pure cuteness. Dean hit his knees and swept her into his arms. “Ladybug, you can’t do that to your uncle! He’s an old man!” He pressed kiss after kiss to her wet nose, gratefully accepting her boisterous and slightly drooly puppy kisses. Even the one that went in his eyeball.

Sending Cas a glare of pure exasperation, he began wrestling the baby clothes off the wiggly bundle of fluff.

“Alright. We’ve survived two crises, I think the worst is behind us.”

All seriousness and brevity, Cas nodded as he straightened, scooping a small, leather-bound copy of A Hystori of Caledonian Monsters from the floor. The aged tome bore a surprising amount of chewing and puppy drool from the short amount of time of his niece’s unsupervised freedom.

“Agreed.”

- - - 2 hours later - - -

Sam grinned down at you dopily as you both trudged down the long hall from the garage. The long-overdue date hadn’t been what he’d originally planned. But when the waxing moon and wildflower-scented breeze had hit them both, candlelight and overpriced pasta didn’t seem near as appealing as sizzling sexy times in the back seat, burgers and fries and milkshakes from the drive through, and shifting to frolic in the tall, windswept grass of an open field.

The quiet of the bunker wasn’t terribly unsurprising; Uncle Dee was a veritable decibel defender when it came to his niece’s nap time. No baby girl of mine is growing up used to only four hours and calling that rest! he had scorned. The fact that the newborn was only sleeping four hours at a time anyway, and wasn’t his actual daughter, was resolutely ignored.

What was surprising was the carnage that greeted them. Library chairs laid on their sides in some type of corral. Erica’s baby toys rested in varying stages of repose or destruction. Burp clothes, towels, and receiving blankets were scattered, some whole, some slightly torn. An open bottle of baby shampoo slowly glugged its contents onto the table. Someone had attempted to hide some damaged lore books behind a lamp. And pillows - so many pillows - were everywhere, their feathery guts flung to every corner of the room.

Instantly on alert, Sam waved you to stay back as he drew his gun and began easing forward. Senses honed by years of battle didn’t pick up on any immediate threat, but the proof before him clearly spoke otherwise. When your hands fisted into his shirt, fingers trembling in sudden fear, he reached back to touch your back reassuringly.

“Dean?” he shouted questioningly. His voice echoed against the cavernous ceiling, but still no foe came at them. With a tentative touch, he nudged a tired pillow over, finding another damaged lore book beneath it. Sam gingerly grabbed it, lifting it up to squint at the mangled leather and paper.

“Are those…” you started haltingly, peering over his shoulder.

“They look like...tiny teeth marks.” You stared at Sam wordlessly before you both sprinted for the bedrooms. The nursery door banged against the wall loudly, and the occupants of the room flinched but didn’t stir beyond that.

One side of the crib was hanging haphazardly from its left-side screws, a blanket strangled in the slats. A stuffed tiger toy that you secretly hated lay with its head missing and cotton stuffing innards hanging out. No less than 11 diapers scattered across the floor with the tapes missing. Sleeper legs and flannel blankets dangled from open dresser drawers. Clouds of baby powder, liberally dusted into higgledee piggledee piles, still hazed the light glowing from the lamp near the upholstered rocking recliner in the corner. In the middle of the madness lay the hapless heroes.

They had somehow managed to winch Dean’s fancy memory foam mattress into the room, one corner of it caught and peeling up against the toy chest. Cas lay on one side, his trench coat hanging off one arm and his tie out from under his collar and wrinkled beyond belief. Dean looked no better; his grey tshirt showed dark swathes of damp that smelled like baby shampoo. His hair stood up in weird handfuls, as if he’d been gripping it in his fists in desperation. Shoeless, he only wore one sock. A handful of raggedy baby wipes poked out of his back pocket.

And between them both, tenderly snuggled into a nest of nearly every blanket in the bunker lay a precious creamy-brown wolf pup, sleeping contentedly without a care in the world.

Sam knew his jaw had hit the floor, and figured you were in the same boat.

“Is that...her?”

You took a couple of careful steps forward into the wreckage. Closing your eyes, you let your stronger lycan senses take over. The soft, sugary scent of honeysuckle comforted your mama heart as you smiled in disbelief.

“Yep, that’s her.”

“You mean she had her first shift and we missed it?!”

Chuckling softly, you picked your way through the baby item minefield. Only a Winchester would be more upset about missing a baby’s first shift than the absolute destruction of their home.

“It looks like.”

“What do we do? Does she know how to shift back?”

You pursed your lips thoughtfully, stilling them Erica twitched and squeaked in her sleep. “I don’t know. I’ll call my mom, maybe she can help us.”

Warm, long fingers curled around your hips to tug you back against him. You could sense his delight at the picture before them. Whatever had happened, his brother and friend had adapted and overcome. His daughter was so loved.

“I guess we should wake them up.”

You grinned as you dug out your phone. “Not until I get a picture.”