#witness protection fic

[unhingedangstaddict]

I'll Hold Onto You While We Run Chap 14 Sneak Peak

(Another Tommy and Lucy scene seeing as so many people enjoy their friendship in this fic!!!)

Tommy pulled open the door, inviting Lucy in. “Hey, wasn’t expecting you. Everything okay?”

“Got some info for ya on the creep from the bar.” Lucy explained as she stepped inside. “Figured you might wanna chat too.”

Tommy nodded. “Alright. You hungry?” Tommy asked as he shut the door behind Lucy.

“Starved actually.” Lucy headed into the house and sat down at the kitchen table.

“Well lucky for you we’ve got a ton of Chinese leftovers. Wasn’t expecting such large portions and Evan didn’t seem too hungry.” Tommy began pulling out containers from the fridge and making up a plate for Lucy, skipping the things she didn’t like and piling on her favourites.

“I could kiss you.” Lucy professed dramatically.

“I still don’t get how you enjoy the leftovers cold, but if it makes you happy.” Tommy shrugged.

“It does.” Lucy confirmed with a grin as she moved one knee to her chest, foot on the seat of the chair. “Lauren always acted like I was committing a crime. But I like it cold, so if I can’t have it fresh-hot I’m not going to the extra effort to reheat it.”

“How are things going on the divorce front anyway? I’d imagine you being here isn’t exactly helping.” Tommy wondered.

“It’s definitely not making things easier, that’s for sure.” Lucy sighed.

“I’m sorry things turned out so shitty in the end.” Tommy said sincerely as he set Lucy’s plate down in front of her.

“It is what it is I guess.” Lucy shrugged. After taking a bite she pulled out her phone. “So the creep from the bar isn’t anyone we should have to worry about. He does have a rap sheet with local PD for harassment, one charge of indecent exposure-”

“Typical creep things.” Tommy nodded as he sat across from her.

“Yeah, but nothing to raise any real red flags that he could be a threat to Evan’s safety. He’s been banned from the bar and if he shows up again he’ll be leaving in cuffs.” Lucy told Tommy.

“Well that’s a relief.” Tommy decided. “Evan didn’t really tell me how he felt about the whole thing, but he looked so uncomfortable when I got to the bar.” Tommy shook his head.

“I wish I’d noticed it before you got there. We were just so busy.” Lucy frowned.

“It’s not your fault. It’s the creep who was harassing Evan’s fault.” Tommy reassured her. “I can’t help but feel guilty though.”

“Why do you feel guilty?” Lucy frowned.

Tommy was silent for a moment, before speaking in a hushed tone. “When Cameron proposed the cover story I didn’t like it. I should’ve fought harder, proposed something else instead. Because if the cover story wasn’t what it is, he never would’ve had ‘bisexual’ on that name tag and he wouldn’t have been harassed and I wouldn't have kissed him.”

“Tommy, you had no way of knowing that was going to happen.” Lucy started. “And I’m not at all saying it was Evan’s fault, but he didn’t write ‘bisexual’ on his name tag because he felt like he had to. He could’ve skipped it altogether, or written ‘taken’ on it instead. He wears a wedding ring and the guy harassed him anyway. It’s in no way your fault or Evan’s.”

Tommy nodded slightly. “Still feel bad about the kiss. We haven’t done anything like that before- I mean we haven’t needed to in order to keep our cover or anything. Never even discussed it.”

“Did he say he had a problem with it?” Lucy asked.

“Well no-”

“Was he mad at you for it?”

“No, but-”

“Did he tell you that you crossed a boundary?” Lucy wondered.

“No.” Tommy admitted.

[lonelychicago]

inspiration saturday! 🌊

tagged by @jesuisici33 @hippolotamus @prince-buck-diaz @wildlife4life 💗

this is for the witness protection fic that i started five seconds ago lmao.

(also psps eddie will be a fisherman. ot didn't win the poll i made yesterday but @bigfootsmom made a really strong case for him and now im obsessed with the idea)

here's literally all i have for it rn:

Something bad is coming. When you've been working as a detective and have been undercover as much as Evan Buckley has, you tend to get a sixth sense about these things. You just know that something is about to happen, you can feel it deep onto your bones. You feel a shift in the air, almost. The first sign is when Buck walks into the warehouse where the heart of the operation is always beating. Where the information is supposed to flow and Buck is supposed to merge into the shadows, become one with all of them and get as much as he can so they can bust this crime nest and watch it crumble to the ground. Watch the empire that one of the most dangerous men in all of Los Angeles has worked so much to build up, fall. But when he first walks into the place on a Saturday night, as he has been doing for five months already, everything is silent. Dangerously, hauntingly silent. That's when he first knows something is about to go down, the fear hot and thick forming in his chest and growing every second that passes. By the time he hears a door close behind him, he can barely breathe around it. "Hello, Daniel… Or should I say, Detective Evan Buckley?" The Butcher's voice reverberates throughout the warehouse, loud and menacing. Buck closes his eyes for a few seconds, takes a deep breath and then turns around, trying to keep his face as neutral and blank as he can, despite his heart lurching to a sick halt. He's been discovered. "I don't know what you're talking about." He lies, even when he knows it's probably too late.

tagging: @buddierights @monsterrae1 @alyxmastershipper @honestlydarkprincess @diazblunt @buck2eddie @shortsighted-owl @the-likesofus @prettyboybuckley @heartshapedvows @panbuckley @spaceprincessem @cowboy-buck @911onabc and anyone else who wants to!!!

[starry-bi-sky]

Clone^2 - Separation Strikes

"Why do I have to go?" Damian asks, surly and accent-thick, it sounds more like a demand and a whine at the same time. Sitting on the kitchen table with his arms crossed, in a green t-shirt that Danny bought him at a whim when he was at a thrift shop, and black shorts, he's never looked more like a kid. There's a little backpack leaning against the table leg, Damian begrudgingly picked it out when they went shopping.

His English has grown in leaps and bounds since Danny found him -- er, or more accurately; since Damian was spat out in front of him. -- and very little did they have to use the translator on Danny's phone these days.

Which meant one thing: Damian can start attending school comfortably now. And 'go' was the Amity Smiles Child Care Center. Danny and Jazz went as kids until they were twelve, and Mom and Dad actually managed to convince the center director to let Damian enroll for the summer.

And it was summer; Damian starts today.

"Because," Danny says, trying and failing to hide the smile pulling on his face, his heart warm and soft, and also laughing at Damian's expense; "being cooped up in the house all day isn't good for you, and you're starting school in the Fall. And, in Jazz's words: you need to have interactions with other kids your age for the benefit of your social development. And besides, it's only for the morning."

Damian's nose scrunches up, and his eyes roll so violently that for a moment, Danny thinks about joking that he'll get his eyes stuck like that. He holds his tongue; his little brother already looks like he's five seconds away from committing an act of violence.

"I don't need social interaction." Damian sneers, his cheek in his hand; a neverend pool of pride. "I am--"

"The Blood of the Demon Heir, better than everyone else." Danny cuts off, waving his hand in dismissive circles, his voice mockingly deep. Damian's brown skin darkens in embarrassment, and he scowls at Danny. "I know, bud. But Jazz is right, -- don't tell her I said that, -- you should be around kids your age."

Especially when he starts First Grade in the Fall. Honestly -- Danny was a little nervous to send him to the center. Damian's long since cut the habit of trying to kill or otherwise maim people, his palms ache-burn with gentle reminder, but his tongue was as sharp and as cutting as his sword. He still struggles with trying to quell it when he's upset. Vicious child-weapon that he once was, and will never be again.

Danny knows that it comes from a place of fear and defense, that Damian lashes out because that's what he's been taught. That at the end of the day, he doesn't really mean what he says, and he's learning to express himself better. But the other kids don't know that, and kids can be unforgiving and cruel.

Danny just...

His slow beating heart sighs, melancholy settles behind his lungs.

He doesn't want Damian to be outcasted. He doesn't want him to be alone.

Not like he was.

Damian sneers again, but says nothing, his shoulders crawling up to hide his ears like a turtle receding into his shell. Danny watches him silently, leaning against the kitchen counter with his own arms crossed. The clock hanging on the wall ticks in their ears -- it's almost time to go.

He watches Damian, careful, and so he sees it when his little brother's stone-shell pride and petulance shudders, and cracks. The darkened furrow of Damian's brows weakens, and for a moment, slants back.

Ah, Danny thinks, his own shoulders slumping. Epiphany washes over him, and his sad-heart soothes in warm understanding. So that's what it is.

His head tilts, and his hair spills over his shoulders, messy and fluffy, tickling his neck. Some of his bangs fall into his face. "Hal 'ant easabiatan ya habibi?" He asks, voice low and soft. Just as Damian's English has improved, so has Danny's Arabic. He still stumbles over himself some days, and Damian says his accent is trash, but they can have whole conversations now in Damian's mothertongue.

(Danny was incredibly proud of himself for it.)

Damian's face darkens, his blush spreading across the rest of his face, and he ducks his head down. Grown-out curls, black-brown and springy, falls over his eyes. "La!" He yells, loud and indignant, and not at all convincingly. "La 'asheur bialtawaturi!"

He was nervous. Danny can see it now, in the hunch of his shoulders and the tightness of his face, and faintly, he can feel it too. In the ecto-rich air of the Fentonworks House, it thrums, barely-there, like a hummingbird behind his lungs.

Danny can't stop the little, fond smile that forces itself across his lips and upticks the corner of his mouth. "It's okay to be nervous, little brother." He says, he sounds like Jazz when he says that. He doesn't think she'll mind him borrowing the nickname.

He pushes himself off the counter, and Damian refuses to look at him, hiding behind his hair and in his shoulders. It takes three long strides for him to reach the table, and Danny turns, plants his hands on the ledge, and hoists himself up. Right next to Damian.

Damian leans into him easily when Danny's arm wraps around his shoulders and tucks him close to his heart. He can feel his ear against his ribs. Danny hunches over him, resting his chin on Damian's head. "It's so okay to be nervous, actually. I was nervous, Jazz was nervous." He tells him, scratching the blunt edge of his nails across his scalp. "Everyone gets nervous."

"'Ana last aljumiea." Damian mumbles, as small and feeble as he was the night on the OPS Center balcony, realizing that his mom and the League weren't coming for him. Realizing that he was replaceable.

Danny's half-working heart squeezes; in grief, in rage, and his faucet eyes sting. He breathes in carefully, and presses his nose into Damian's hair in a loving faux-kiss. "You're right, you're not everyone." He says, steady and strong, because if he's not a pillar for his family, who else is he?

He can feel Damian's eyes flick up to him, and Danny smiles into his black-brown curls. Tilts his head to squish his cheek against him instead, hand dropping to thumb below Damian's lashes. "You're Damian Fenton," Because the adoption went through a few weeks ago, and he's still riding that high, "You're my baby brother. O' Artist Extraordinaire, Kickass with a Sword, Vegetarian and Wonderful Co-Ghost Hunter."

Damian tries to stifle a smile, and fails. Score! Triumph gathers in Danny's gut, his smile grows wider. He squeezes Damian tight, and only releases him so he can look him in the eyes. "And if anyone gives you a hard time at school, and I mean anyone--"

Danny has bad memories of the teachers looking the other way when the other kids were bullying him, all because he was a Fenton.

And Danny, bleeding heart, bleeding hands, loves his family more than he will ever love himself, will never let Damian experience the same injustice. Not if he can help it.

His eyes narrow, and the buzzy-film of ectoplasm covers his eyes, making them glow, "--You tell me. And as your awesome great big brother-and-technically-dad-but-only-biologically, I will handle it."

Damian, wonderfully made, full of light, his little brother Damian, giggles weakly at him. A sound that's worth it's weight in gold. The scary eyes dissipate, and Danny matches the sound with a cock-eyed, impish grin, dragging Damian into a soul-crushing, too-tight hug. The kind that only annoying older brothers can give. "Got it?"

That gets a proper, if short, laugh out of Damian. He wriggles in Danny's arms, trying to break free. But Danny does calisthenics, his arms are as big as Damian's head, so it doesn't work. "Understood, now, daeni 'adhhab ya 'akhi!"

Danny laughs, loud and bright, and loosens his hold just a smidge, only so he can adjust his grip and hop off the table with Damian still in arm.

"Never!" He crows, hoisting Damian slightly. One eye flick at the clock, and in one quick move, he secures Damian under one arm like a football, and hooks his foot under the strap of his backpack. Kicking it up, he tosses it into the air and catches it with his free hand, and slings it over his shoulder. "Now, to the car, my boy! Before we're late and Mom and Dad get charged."

Damian groans, childish and dramatic and long, but his face is all squished up with a wide grin and glee. Danny can taste his joy beneath his tongue.

"And, if my little pep talk didn't encourage you," He says, reaching the door to the garage, flipping Damian up onto his hip instead. "If you have a good day today, I'll make you bal mithai when you get back."

Like all kids at the promise of sweets, Damian's eyes widen and glitter. Danny loves seeing Damian be a kid, it's his favorite thing in the world. "I will!"

[anonymouscheeses]

I'm gonna be shitting and screaming and starting fights if Sera becomes a villain. I can't take sibling angst, Sera loves Emily I swear guys believe meeee.

[ninzied]

wip wednesday

Some might find this part of the job tedious, but Henry enjoys it most of the time. It’s a welcome change to the rigors of fieldwork: some peace and quiet over tea, maybe a nice book or two while he’s at it.

The peace and quiet, though, are key. And Henry has frankly known neither of those things since entering this particular safehouse.

The whistleblower is a government aide. The senator he worked for is standing trial for alleged ties to the Russian mob, and until all that gets sorted out, the aide is under Henry’s protection.

Which, Henry is starting to realize, poses quite the conflict of interest. Because this man, this Alex Claremont-Diaz, might just be the death of him. Literally.

Unless, of course, Henry kills him first.

tagged by: @kiwiana-writes @cha-melodius @getmehighonmagic on this fine wednesday thank you ♡

tagging: @blueeyedgrlwrites @carrythesky @celeritas2997 @cricketnationrise @eusuntgratie

@everwitch-magiks @firenati0n @garglyswoof @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @maxbegone

@myheartalivewrites @onthewaytosomewhere @orchidscript @porcelainmortal @piratefalls

@sparklepocalypse @stereopticons @theprinceandagcd

[anopendoor]

 📢 📢 NEW FIC 📢 📢

chapter 5/? // 18.8k words

🗯️ fake dating/fake marriage

🗯️ witness protection

🗯️ special agent Ben Solo

🗯️ enemies to lovers

🗯️ bodyguard vibes

🗯️ political au

🗯️ slow burn

CBI agent Kylo Ren is tasked with his most challenging assignment yet. The only thing is, it’s not at all what he expects. He can’t decide what’s worse, protecting a suspect under witness protection—or pretending to be married to her.

Chapters:

the mission / 2. the failure / 3. the witness / 4. the rules / 5. the neighbors

[steddieunderdogfics]

MEMORIA (series) by emryses

@emryses

Rating: Explicit

81,955 words, 2/2 works

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Tags from first fic in series: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, 1990s, Eddie Munson Lives, Eddie Munson in Witness Protection, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Bisexual Eddie Munson, Steddie Big Bang 2023 (Stranger Things)

Summary:

It's January 1996 and Steve has recently moved to Pennsylvania for a new job as a children's librarian. Urged to do something with his evenings by Robin, he goes to a bar around the corner from his apartment and sees someone who looks an awful like Eddie Munson playing his guitar. Only no one has seen Eddie in almost ten years. Eddie Munson, whilst on the brink of death, was not so gently urged into the supernatural department of the United States Federal Witness Protection Program. The time he was in the program, he was stripped of everything he had and thought he knew, and was forced to become someone entirely new. He’s still trying to figure out who that person is. It’s been almost ten years, and in that time the only thing he has learned is that he is okay with being alone. He has to be. Otherwise known as, a story about finding the people you’ve lost, healing rifts (the personal kind, not the supernatural kind) and maybe for once, finally, falling in love.

Thanks for the rec! This recommendation is apart of our Writer's Wednesday! All of the recs today are written by @emryses. Want to nominate an author? Fill out this form!

You can submit fic recs to our asks or the submission box!

[aftgmostly]

List of AFTG fics to read (WiPro edition):

Words Are Futile Devices by IKnowWhoYouAre_Damianos

The straight men's attraction to Ryan Reynolds by @queen-of-seventeen

Coffee & Lies by Leocante

An Ocean on the Rooftop by attfna

A Quiet Night by kccastner

Time to Come Home by pavlikovskyslittlebird

[turbulenthandholding]

My contribution to "Strange Currencies" | AU day of Sydcarmy Week 2024! Enjoy the start of this silly little witness protection AU.

[scary-grace]

Chapters: 22/? Fandom: The Hobbit - All Media Types Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Bard the Bowman/Thranduil Characters: Thranduil (Tolkien), Bard the Bowman, Thranduil's Wife, Bard the Bowman's Children, Legolas Greenleaf, Tauriel, Sigrid (Hobbit Movies), Bain of Dale, Tilda (Hobbit Movies), Elrond Peredhel, Celebrían (Tolkien), Arwen Undómiel Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, set in 1977, Historical References, Slow Burn, I'm not joking about the slowness of this slow burn, emergency room physician Thranduil, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, caretaker Bard (in several senses of the term), ELF (extremely long fic), this house may or may not be haunted, this is a 'no archive warnings apply' situation for now Summary:

In the year 1977, following a tragedy that upends his life, former emergency-room physician Thranduil Oropherion purchases a sprawling, centuries-old estate in northern New Hampshire, planning to ship his children off to boarding school and waste away without ever being seen again. His plans go awry immediately thanks to Bard Bowman, the caretaker of the estate, and as an unlikely friendship blooms between them, Thranduil finds himself slowly coming back to life.

His house does the same.

Chapter 22 is here! An excerpt:

Thranduil climbs up onto the porch roof, unlatches his bedroom window, and slides ungracefully in. The light on the nightstand is closer than the switch on the wall, so Thranduil turns it on. A moment later, he gets the shock of his life.

[unhingedangstaddict]

I'll Hold Onto You While We Run Chap 13 Sneak Peak

“There you are!” Tommy came right up to Buck. “Sorry I was late, baby.” Tommy reached out and tilted Buck’s chin upwards slightly and suddenly Tommy was kissing him.

And well- it would be weird if ‘Oliver’ didn’t kiss his husband back, right? 

So Buck kissed Tommy back. Tommy’s lips were firm, yet pliant against his own. The feeling of Tommy’s day or two old stubble against Buck’s face was something he hadn’t experienced before, but he didn’t mind it.

Kissing Tommy felt- it felt good. It felt right. Buck suddenly couldn’t believe how much of his life he’d spent not kissing guys too. He would definitely be interested in doing this again.

Bisexuality was feeling more and more correct to Buck by the nanosecond.

Almost as soon as the kiss had started, it ended. “I was thinking we could stop and grab something for dinner on the way home.” Tommy suggested casually.

“Yeah, that works.” Buck agreed as he tried to act as though his whole world wasn’t being flipped on it’s axis.

Tommy smiled easily and took hold of Buck’s hand the way a married couple would so naturally take each other’s hands. “Let’s get outta here.”

Buck only managed to nod and hold onto Tommy’s hand and let Tommy lead the way to the car as his head spun. God he wished he could call Hen right now. He had her number memorized. He technically could, but he’d be breaking rules and they were all in place for his safety and his family’s. 

All Buck could think about was kissing Tommy Kinard. About how much he’d liked the kiss. About how he’d like to do it again. About how he wished it wasn’t an act.

“Evan,” Tommy sounded like he’d been trying to get Buck’s attention for a while.

“Sorry, what?” Buck looked over at Tommy and realized they were parked in the garage at the house by now.

“I asked if that was okay? The kiss?” Tommy prompted.

[lonelychicago]

first, let's take a moment to appreciate my banner. isn't it so cute and fun???

tagged by the lovelies and incredibly talented @wikiangela @giddyupbuck @hippolotamus thanks for tagging me, babes 💌

here's a snippet from witness protection au bc it's taken over my brain skjsjs

you can find the previous snippets here and here and if you wanna be tagged once i post this fic, you can interact here

"You have any idea of how long I've been looking for you?" Eddie cuts him off, coming to stand next to him and folding his arms across his chest, making the muscles bulge and giving him an edge, making him look a little intimidating but also… hot. "I looked all over town!"

"To be fair, the town isn't that big." Buck smiles a little sheepishly, shrugging and then standing up. He doesn't like Eddie hovering over him like this— Or maybe the problem is that he likes it a little too much.

"No, Buck. Do you realize I'm here because you have an entire criminal enterprise pissed at you?" Eddie spits out, rubbing a hand over his mouth in frustration.

"I know you know this. You worked with them for months while undercover! You know these people are dangerous and you know what they're capable of and what, you decide to run around alone in the woods? Are you dumb?" Eddie looks like he's working himself up all over again— His eyes now are fierce and have a fire in them that Buck feels if the man keeps staring at him like that, Buck will burn on the spot. He'll burn under Eddie's gaze until he's nothing more than ashes.

"Look, I'm sorry. It really wasn't my intention." Buck holds his hands up. "And I really don't want to get you fired—"

"You think this is because of my job? Do you think I'm like this because I was afraid of losing my job?" Eddie asks in disbelief, his tone dripping with frustration and rage and something else that Buck can't really decipher, an undertone that has him tingling all over in the most confusing of ways.

tagging (no pressure): @buddierights @monsterrae1 @cowboy-buddie @cowboy-buck @athenagranted @diazblunt @transbuck @honestlydarkprincess @bigfootsmom @shortsighted-owl @spotsandsocks @the-likesofus @spaceprincessem @alyxmastershipper @heartshapedvows @prettyboybuckley @exhuastedpigeon @thosetwofirefighters @barbiediaz @911onabc @housewifebuck @messyhairdiaz @elvensorceress @disasterbuckdiaz @wildlife4life @jesuisici33 @thewolvesof1998 @devirnis and anyone else who wants to do it! <33

[aliteralsemicolon]

would you ever writer fics for other characters either within or outside of criminal minds?

Character fixations for me are rare. Spencer is the first fictional character I've ever been obsessed with in this way. I fear I've locked in and will probably not be stepping out 🤞😙

[ladylilithprime]

Day 10: Mushrooms

(Part of the Grand Not-Coven of Palo-Alto series.)

SAM WESSON'S GARDEN was a truly spectacular work of time, effort, engineering, and spell work. It was the first thing any visitor to his properly noticed from the street and a favored place for friends and family to gather to spend time together just chatting and enjoying each other's company. Even if you didn't have a lick of sensitivity to the supernatural and mystical energies, the Garden was a visual marvel of growth and care, at least some parts of it always in bloom no matter the season. If you were sensitive to mystical energies, it was a massive nexus of magic, from the carved stones and mosaics that marked out the footpaths and plant beds to the plants themselves. It was the focal point of the wards Sam had built around his house and extended to the house next door where Dean Smith lived, and it was where the anchor stones for the wards Sam maintained around the homes and businesses of his "network friends" and Palo Alto as a whole were kept, continually renewing and recharging with every sunrise, moonrise, and rainfall.

As a licensed herbalist and practicing witch, it was no surprise that the Garden held a lot of the plants and herbs Sam needed for various potions, tinctures, and poultices, grown fresh and harvested with care to dry and preserve. The large glass greenhouse at one end of the Garden, which connected to the main house via the Solarium, held the more "tempermental" plants in their specially warded pots and beds, the ones that Sam's FBI contacts really wanted to pretend didn't exist for one reason or another. There was even a section of the Garden devoted to growing fruits and vegetables which Sam used to cook and gave to or traded with other members of the network. Frankly, the only thing that was surprising to people who had learned the secrets of the Garden was that Sam would need to go anywhere else for some type of plant.

Specifically, mushrooms.

"It's not that there aren't mushrooms in the Garden," Sam explained as he led the way into the woods behind the house, Bones cheerfully bounding ahead before circling back to dance around her favorite human and his friends. "The act of foraging is itself a part of the ritual, much like harvesting. A reaffirmation of life and sustainability amid death and decay as part of the cycle of the natural world."

"And they're really safe to eat?" asked John Castiel Novak curiously, stepping around a fallen branch even as he split his attention between Sam and the mushroom guidebook the witch had given him.

"Some are," Sam nodded, then shrugged. "Some aren't. And some of them are only safe to eat in certain stages of their growth, so pay close attention to that guide book and if you aren't sure ask me or Bones to double check."

"Too bad we don't have a pig along for truffle hunting," Cas's twin, James Constantine Novak joked, and then yelped as the golden retriever abruptly stood up and changed into a golden-haired woman with her hands on her naked hips.

"I'd like to see a hog sniff out the good mushrooms of all types and warn you away from the bad ones even half as well as I can!" she snapped. Then her indignation melted away into a mischievous smirk as she added, "Besides, Dean said he was never doing that again after he got dirt up his nose that was still there when he changed back."

"Bones," Sam groaned as Cas and Jimmy exchanged slightly alarmed looks. To the twins, he explained, "It was a dare from Andy to see if I even could change someone who wasn't my familiar into an animal, and Jess suggested a truffle hog to see if we could find some wild growing truffles to save some money on ingredients. Dean volunteered to be the guinea pig, and, well.... actual pig."

"And it worked?" Jimmy asked with interest. "No negative side effects?"

"Dean gained a better appreciation for vegetables as a food group, so your mileage may vary," Bones snorted, then slipped back into her canine shape with a cheerful yip.

"I, on the other hand, was exhausted, which is the real reason he said never again," Sam explained, getting tandem nods. The twins were well acquainted with Dean's intense protective streak when it came to Sam. "So Bones conspired with Dean to learn the scents of every mushroom in these woods and a few that aren't so she could be my primary hunting partner."

As it should be, Bones whispered in Sam's mind, answering his small smile with a lolling canine grin. Sam may have left the world of hunting behind along with the Winchester name, but there were some aspects he just couldn't give up completely. He rather suspected that, with the way the Novak twins kept coming back with their increasingly flimsy excuses, the hunting world wasn't ready to be done with him, either.

He thought he might could live with that.

[autumn-solitude]

1000ish word snippet of a wip with the dynamic I'm aiming for between Killer and Cross (in a modern au setting).

In which Cross is rudely awoken by his bodyguard and Killer takes the opportunity to take a nice cozy nap on top of his surly client:

Cross woke with a start, tank soaked with sweat that followed the imagined threat from his nightmares. Reality sank in and his magic flared immediately in response to an actual threat.

Someone was in the room with him.

Cross acted on the impulse of the sudden danger, lashing out without any thought apart from 'eliminate the threat'.

The blue bone attacks from his attacker were swifter, jamming through each of Cross’ humeri, ulna and radius. Just as quickly, a sharp blade lightly slid up along the front of each of Cross' cervical vertebrae, dipping between each one to flick sensitive magic, until the flat of the knife tapped beneath Cross’ jawbone to tilt his skull back.

White eye lights blazed in irritation up at the empty black sockets with liquid hate dripping down from them (and splattering onto his face) above a bemused toothy grin.

“Good mornin', sleeping beauty.” The blade pressed harder but didn’t draw any marrow as the grin Killer wore tugged wider, the empty sockets squinted up in glee. “I coulda already offed you three times before you woke up. You slippin' up on me, Mr. ‘I-can-take-care-of-myself’?"

Killer was a fucking menace; how did he ever become a bodyguard when he pulled stunts like this?

“Couldn’t help but notice you helped all your neighbors out with fixing up their places and all but then do a shit job keeping this place locked up tight.” Killer added, shaking his head as if disappointed. The knife blade kept Cross' skull tipped back. “So I got ya new locks for your front door, bedroom and the windows. Oh, and some boards for when you need to block the doors or windows when I ain't round. Aaaand, I added some audio mics around the place and one cam near the front door, in case you decide to sleep through possibly being killed or abducted, and I gotta come rescue your burly ass.”

“That’s not in your job description.” Cross pointed out, discreetly shifting the lower half of his body, only to find that Killer had his legs pinned with his own. "And I'm not burly. S'just the magic." Cross found that Killer had one arm braced on his chest while the other held the knife to his throat. Killer looked like he was having the time of his life harassing the monster he was supposed to be guarding.

“It isn’t part of my job, but let’s call it an investment to your continued well-being.” Killer agreed too easily as he moved the knife away and shimmied backward, so he was perched on Cross’ lap. A leer appeared as Killer looked Cross over. “And nah. You're a big guy even without the summoned magic. By the way, nice pajamas. Didn’t know that your man tits could be contained like that without the fabric tearing. 'specially with it soaked in sweat. You gonna change that?”

“I get hot at night.” Cross defended his tight tank top that currently hugged his ribcage and defined the magic formed beneath. He declined to comment on exchanging the sweat drenched one for a new one with how intent Killer's gaze currently was.

“I’ll agree with the ‘hot’ part.” Killer said distractedly as he tucked his knife away somewhere.

“What do you want from me, for the 'upgrades' to the apartment?” Cross asked grudgingly, tensing when he saw Killer's leer deepen.

“Oh, not much.” Killer said, still smiling that infuriating grin. “Just this.” The target soul hovering over his chest went to an inverted heart as he shuffled back. Then, without warning, Killer sprawled himself across Cross’ body, soul pressing into Cross as Killer face-planted directly into the other’s chest. “Mmm, nice cushioning you got here, Crossy.”

“Get off.” Cross demanded, acutely aware of the way Killer’s soul trapped between them hummed with delight. Cross' battered soul was a traitor as it contently thrummed in return to the other soul's closeness.

The blue attacks vanished.

Killer let out an obnoxious snoring noise.

“Killer.”

“Shh. You asked what I wanted; this is it. I’m taking my payment by burying my face into your warm man tits despite the magic sweat-soaked tank top and getting a bit of shuteye before dealing with your self-destructive bullshit.”

“It’s magical padding, you ass!” Cross retorted hotly; he was not blushing. He was not blushing.

"Is that what they're calling it now?"

"Killer."

"You don't have to have your ecto summoned, but it sure is comfy."

"I'm burring off some excess magic since you don't want me going to the gym as often as I normally do!" Cross grumbled; he should shove Killer off of him.

“Mmm, if this is the outcome, then maybe you should work out less." Killer sighed into Cross' chest. "You're so nice and toasty.”

“Killer!”

“That’s my name.” Killer drawled as he nuzzled his face further in to enjoy the warm magic beneath the tank top, sighing happily. “Don’t wear it out till I've gotten to take you out for a celebratory ‘hey, you didn’t die’ drink. For now, I'm gonna take that nap." Smug bastard did exactly as he said and dozed off cuddled on top of Cross.

A short silence passed.

"Do you want me to leave?" A sudden question, as Killer's body tensed as if to move.

Cross hesitated, then really listened to Killer's soul as it beat between them.

Acceptance/Worry/Self-Hate

"Killer."

"Yeah?"

"I am going back to sleep." Cross said, sockets closing. "Try not to kill me."

"Heh. Sure thing, Crossy."

Cross quietly listened again to Killer's soul.

Surprise/Guilt/Gratefulness

The time that followed gave Cross time to think of his life choices that led him to this point. To where it landed him with Killer as his appointed bodyguard for witness protection for an upcoming trial. All the while, both he and the actually now asleep Killer both knew perfectly well that Cross was more than capable of freeing himself once the blue attacks had vanished.

But Killer knew Cross was lonely, and Cross knew that Killer had trouble lowering his guard for long enough to get any decent sleep.

Cross couldn't help but feel that this wasn't going to end well. He didn't sleep the rest of that night. Instead, Cross guarded the slumbering Killer's sleep, since he was aware that Killer was doing his best to prevent Cross from getting himself killed.

[aphroditestummyrolls]

Figured I might as well make a big post for all the moodboards I’ve made so far. Just because I’m quite happy with them, and I love making them.

(Marya Hendriks; Colm and Aditi)

(Wesper Fantasy AU; Jesper’s Honeypot Whump-shot)

(The Only Way Out is Through)

(Time for a Spare Prayer; Between Hope and Desperation)

(The Engagement Series)

As always, if you want to know more about any of these/the stories they’re inspired by, my inbox is always open ☺️❤️