#witness protection

[hairmetal666]

What if, after Vecna is defeated, Eddie lives and is recovering in the hospital and one day he's just gone. Like, Steve and the kids come to visit and his hospital room doesn't even exist anymore. It's just a blank stretch of wall. The nurses, nurses they know worked with Eddie, say they've never heard of Eddie Munson and there's never been a room where the kids insist there was the day before. Anyone else they ask says they've never heard the name, even though it was only weeks ago that the entire town formed a mob to hunt him down. Hopper and Murray look into it and there's no record of an Edward Munson in any database anywhere. His previous arrests are gone, his fingerprints, record of Wayne becoming his legal guardian, his social security number, his birth certificate. Even his Uncle Wayne, gone without a trace. Like neither man ever existed.

They search for years, always hoping for word, or a return, or anything. But Eddie was there one day and gone the next. Apparently forever.

They mourn, all of them. He was part of the group, part of the family, and then he was gone with no fanfare or goodbye. Then he was gone and every force in the world pretended like he'd never been there in the first place.

Steve, quietly, takes it hard. He spends weeks crying himself to sleep, clutching the ruined battle vest to his chest. It's just unfair, is all, Steve thinks. '86 was supposed to be Eddie's year.

Time passes and they all grow up, all move away from Hawkins. Steve and Robin move to Indy; she starts college and Steve gets a job at a little bakery because he's a regular already and they're hiring.

He loves baking, finds it calming in a way very few things are for him anymore. After a few good years, the store becomes his, and he didn't know he could be this happy or satisfied with his life, after everything.

He never stops thinking of Eddie.

Close to Steve's 30th birthday, a little bookstore opens up in the vacant building across the way. Steve sees the owner sometimes, dark hair pulled into a sloppy bun, pale skin, the occasional hint of black ink under his dark clothes. Beautiful. They wave at each other almost every morning and Steve ignores the reminders of Eddie. They're commonplace now. Any man with long dark hair, tattoos, and black clothing stirs a spark of recognition in Steve's gut, and the disappointment still hurts even after a decade.

Weeks pass and Steve notices a new display in the window of the bookstore; those dnd guides all the boys have, the dice with too many sides, the little plastic figures and pots of paints and delicate brushes. He vows, the next time the kids are in town, they'll go over and he'll finally introduce himself to that probably nice man whose only sin was a slight resemblance to a boy from Steve's past.

The kids come for a visit only a few weeks later, and are just as enthusiastic about going to the bookstore as he is to take them. He has them help bake his secret-recipe sugar cookies, decorate them in a dnd theme (Erica and Max say they're dorky, and he agrees, despite being pleased with the results).

Steve heads to the bookstore first, to warn the guy about the veritable horde of feral young adults about to descend on his quiet store.

He walks in to the sound of a gently ringing bell and Metallica playing at low volume on the store's speakers. Steve has to ignore it or he'll walk out.

"Be right with you," a muffled voice calls out.

"Take your time," he responds. He browses with the container of cookies in his arms, taking in all the dnd stuff, the signs about dnd club meetings, the stacks of new release books and a couple cds.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," a soft, husky voice says back at the front of the store. It breaks Steve out in goosebumps.

"Don't worry about it. I'm from the bakery across the street, wanted to finally introduce myself. I brought goodies," he adds, sort of blushing.

He steps back up to the cash register, eyes finally settling on the owner he's only seen from afar and all the breath leaves his body. It leaves him lightheaded, dizzy.

Eddie Munson. Eddie. Munson. Stands behind the counter, hair in a bun with messy tendrils around his face. He looks the exact same. Maybe a few more lines around his mouth and eyes. But the same.

"Ed--Eddie?" Steve's voice croaks out. He barely manages to drop the cookies onto the counter and not the floor.

Eddie's deep brown eyes flood with tears, a hand--every finger with a ring--covers his mouth. "Steve," the other man sobs.

There's no hesitation as Steve flings himself into Eddie's arms, the other man catching him and holding him tight.

Eddie squeezes him, crying against Steve's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he repeats.

"I can't believe you're real," Steve murmurs between soft sobs, pressing his face against Eddie's neck.

"I'm real. I'm here," Eddie agrees. "I'm right here, sweetheart."

Steve pulls out of the embrace a little, just to look at Eddie's face. To see after all these years. He presses trembling fingers against the line of Eddie's jaw, and the other man leans into the touch, lets Steve trace the contours of his cheeks, his mouth.

"You're here," Steve agrees.

Their eyes lock, drink each other in, ten years of longing dancing at the knobs of Steve's spine.

"They took me away," Eddie says, deep brown of his eyes serious and pleading. "The government. They snuck me out in the middle of the night and forced me and Wayne to adopt new identities, sent us to New Mexico. Monitored us so I couldn't contact any of you. It killed me, Stevie. To be away from you. From Robin. The kids."

That snaps Steve out of his daze. "Oh, shit. The kids."

It's too late, though. The bell at the door jingles, the usual cacophony that accompanies the seven of them filling the little store in an instant.

Dustin's voice rings out, above the others, "this store is so fucking cool."

"Language," Eddie scolds on auto-pilot. When he realizes what he said and why, his eyes wash with new tears.

The kids turn, as one, to the man they never thought they'd see again.

Steve's fingers dance down Eddie's arm, finding his hand, twining their fingers together. Eddie tightens his grip. Steve's never letting go of this man ever again, and he knows with some deep, element certainty that Eddie feels the same.

"Eddie?" Dustin exclaims.

"Hiya, kid." Eddie smiles a little, ducks his head.

"What the fuck," Max says.

"Anyone have time for a story?" Eddie asks. He dashes away the few tears that track down his cheeks.

"We have all the time in the world," Steve agrees. Doesn't think before he lifts Eddie's hand and presses a kiss just below his knuckles.

[one-time-i-dreamt]

I was in witness protection from Springtrap from FNAF and during the trial I was set to testify in, he killed the judge.

[catfindr]

[anopendoor]

 📢 📢 NEW FIC 📢 📢

chapter 7/? // 30k 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 / 6. the time to make up your mind about people / 7. the game

[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!

[stacysutton01]

Witness protection gone wrong 1

[writtenroses1813]

Hot takes I think I should be put in witness protection for (these are just my opinions pls don’t feel offended if you like these tropes):

Enemies to lovers tropes needs to stop being so fetishized. When someone takes their significant other (either real, contractual, or arranged) by the THROAT and THROWS THEM AGAINST A WALL that is NOT “sexual tension” that is ABUSE.

Characters having a strong platonic relationship in which they are open to showing affection to each other does not automatically mean they have to be love interests. Let people have friends

Rivals (ESPECIALLY academically) does not automatically mean they are love interests. Because people are both good at the same thing and therefore competitive does not mean they have hidden feelings

Badass women (especially in fantasy settings) don’t have to be fully “battle forged” or whatever. They can have hobbies and the other women who are often looked at as “meek” and “damsels” are not any less badass for liking to sew or cook. Those hobbies are not “anti-feminist” just because they were what were expected of us women before rights. We have simply commandeered them for our own tastes and purposes

Blond hair male leads aren’t a turnoff

Just because a book has the same tropes used as another does not make it a “rip off” of said other book. Tropes are used just like character archetypes and the freaking alphabet. By that logic all books in the English language are a rip off of the freaking dictionary.

[rat-at-heart]

Has to go into the witness protection program (his fedora should be coming in the mail any day now)

[imaginedreamwrite]

Come Hell Or Highwater: Part 3

A/N: Trigger warnings for mention of blood/mild violence/bruising/wounds

It was difficult not to be distracted by the appearance of raindrops that rolled down the clear glass of the music room. It was almost as difficult to ignore the rain as it was to look past the overhanging clouds that gave the city an inauspicious and dismal appearance.

The forecast had been calling for rain for the past seven days, each consecutive day supposedly going to be barraged with precipitation and yet only today had the city gotten any.

It would have bothered you if you hadn’t been staying later to collaborate on a project with one of the other music composition students. You would’ve been concerned about trying to make it back to your apartment in the dreary weather, even if the rain had already stopped, but seeing as how you’d be working late you figured the rain would stop.

Although the longer you watched the rain while your classmate worked, the quicker you had become doubtful that the clouds would lift and the rain would stop. It was a heavy and trodden blanket that hung over the city, the rain and the dense burrowing clouds adding yet another layer of darkness.

“I can walk you home.” Your classmate and collaborator, Ryan Beauchamp, had offered you a ride when he was done.

Normally you would’ve taken him up on the offer although the prospect of staying another hour past what you already had seemed worse than facing the weather.

You appreciated the offer anyway, you said as much when you gathered your notes and the composition pages and tucked them into your bag. You knew Ryan was a good friend and more trustworthy than most college guys you knew.

Ryan was a brother to three younger sisters and he’d liked to consider himself a universal campus big brother. He had chided you more than once for trying to walk home on a particularly cold night, or when he was worried about you running into trouble.

You’d told him countless times when you were working together that the walk was short and it was safe enough.

Once you got off campus onto the main road you only had a fifteen-minute walk and you would pass a few places that were open late in case you needed somewhere to hide if anything had happened. It was a reoccurring event that you’d grown used to in the past three weeks while working on the project with Ryan.

You would gather all your composition papers and notes, all the thoughts and ideas in your head that you’d bounced off each other, shove them into your bag and then start to head to the exit with him. Ryan and yourself would make small talk, insignificant conversation before you’d part ways.

That night had been no different, to your relief the raindrops that had barraged the portion of the city you were in had stopped, the cement drenched and pooling in sections of the surface. You started your trek through campus as usual, avoiding the grass that was soaked headily with moisture only stopping once you’d stepped off campus to find your phone.

It was the message you’d gotten from your roommate that was the catalyst for your night gone to hell, the innocent message asking you to stop at the drugstore on the way home to pick up her prescription.

It was a simple request, an errand that you hadn’t thought twice about doing since you were closest and the pharmacist was closing soon.

Your roommate wouldn’t have made it to the drugstore before they closed and she needed the medicine for the morning, a problem that you hadn’t minded helping her with. It was a detour that you had made before, the quick stop at the pharmacy wouldn’t add but minutes to your trip home from university—a short errand that bled into a flurried hell that you couldn’t escape.

It was nothing but a moment between stepping outside the pharmacy with your roommate’s prescription in your bag, to the pained and wounded cry that called you toward a side street near the drugstore.

You were caught off guard by the sound that was reminiscent of a wounded animal, the whimper tugging on your bleeding heart and stirring your engrained desire to do good in the world. You followed the sound, your naivety compelling you to help where you could even if you were heading further down the side street.

You found them dumped in the corner of a dead end, two men slumped over together against a chain link fence. Their clothes were torn and ripped to shreds, very little pieces of their once pristine jackets had remained intact and even through the dim lighting you knew they needed help

Dropping to the cold wet concrete, you reached for the man closest to you, the one whose eyes were in a constant flux of opening and shutting as he tried to remain conscience.

You grabbed hold of the front of his jacket and attempted to move him, your stomach churning at the acrid stench of copper that hung in the air, twisted and mixed with the unpleasant malodour of grave injuries.

Even in the darkened side street, you could discern the severity of their wounds. Through the dim light, you could recognize the man furthest from you as one of the more prominent businessmen in the city who had founded a number of councils and boards. You could recognize him through the wounds and the bruises, the blood that clung to him hadn’t done enough to misconstrue his identity.

Jason Wallen was a rich man, he was a man whose face was on countless billboards with his prominent message a vow to the city council to eradicate the crime districts. He had vowed to commit a vast majority of his wealth and influence to find and track down every underhanded man who had invested in the seedy dealings of this place.

“P-please-“ The man clinging limply to the chain link fence pleaded with you, every breath was coming at the cost of his ability to stay awake and verbally communicate with you.

Your hands were going to be stained with blood, and tracings of the necessary and vital substance to keep them both alive were soaking into your clothes as you tried to keep the main you were helping upright.

Sinking back on your haunches, you dug through your bag for your phone, adrenaline pumping through you while you dialled 9-1-1. Your mind was far from you, you were being led by your instincts while talking to the dispatcher detailing everything you had found and needed.

“I d-don’t want to d-die-“ The sound of his gurgling nauseated you, it was a sound that you felt you would never be able to uproot from the corners of your mind.

“You’re not going to die, you’re not going to die. An ambulance is coming, okay? You’re going to get help.” Your voice trembled, your hands desperately trying to stop the bleeding from his chest while you looked at the prominent businessman, watching his chest slow down and his eyes become distant. “You’re going to be okay, you’re going to be fine. Help is coming.”

Despite your effort, it felt like you hadn’t done enough. You should’ve done more.

The sound of sirens pierced the ill silence, the sharp signals of ambulatory care were echoing in your head like an air raid siren only you could hear. You fell back with a strained scream when bright lights illuminated both the side street and the damage done to the two men that were left to die.

You couldn’t get out of the way fast enough for the paramedics, struggling to rise to your feet and grab your bag while they worked on the two men. Your feet carried you out of the side street where you were stopped by two police officers, one speaking on the radio and the other trying to speak to you.

It was all muffled and quiet, discourse between what you couldn’t hear and the images engrained in your mind of the two men and their broken, bruised and battered bodies.

You were jostled from sleep by a warm large hand shaking your shoulder, and the husky whispering of one of your guards.

Your first reaction was to smack his hand away from you and protest his disturbance with a muttered threat that was incomprehensible. Your eyes remained closed, screwed shut while the faint and unrelenting memory that invaded your sleep was replaced with a stern prompt to get up.

“We’re here, Y/N. You need to get out of the vehicle and stretch your legs.” He placed his hand on your shoulder once more, shaking you twice until he could see you open your eyes and feel you shift in the front seat.

You raised your hands to hide your eyes in the palms of your hands, fingertips and nails digging into your scalp as a temporary release of tension. It was only a moment of the dull sense of pain before you lowered your hands and settled your vision on the location of your new and falsified life in the Witness Protection Program until you could head to trial.

The house was another piece of this fabricated story that you would be living until things had come to a close, this structure would be filled with fake memories and dinner parties, gatherings that would all allude to you, Steve, Ari and Andy being this new to town polyamorous unit who wanted peace in a safe place.

It was a fine thread spun into a fairytale-like story that was convoluted, just like the ring on your finger and the rings on theirs. It was all a necessary addition to a lie that was put in place like a shield to hide you until you were useful. So much of the drive had been lost to you being caught in your mind or to sleep that felt less fruitful than it should’ve been.

And now you were home.

It was a cute little house if nothing else, with an enclosed porch that would face the sunset. It was built of solid wood and stained white to match, with a solid oak door that led into the porch and further on into the house. Attached to the left side of the enclosed porch was a swing built into the left of the space with two mismatched hand-sewn pillows.

The house was on two levels, and as far as you understood, had six bedrooms and 4 baths. It was beautiful and newly renovated, it was a farmhouse on the edge of this small town where no one would know your real name.

It was a dream come true in any other situation, if you weren’t here for your protection you’d have loved to live in a place like this. This house was cozy and seemed welcoming, in a small town where everyone helped each other out and neighbours took care of neighbours. This would have been ideal for you, it would have been encompassing some version of your dreams that called to you.

You took it all in with scrutiny, on the edge of fear weighing you down and apprehension rooted in uncertainty. You couldn’t plan your future days, weeks or months. Not even in the most minimal way could you have planned anything and that had sparked your anxiety.

However it wasn’t the homely state of the house or the enclosed porch that had made your attention wander from two of the three men acting as your husbands, it was the trio standing on the lawn waiting for you. The two men and one woman appeared friendly and welcoming, with trays of food and homemade baking resting in their arms.

“Hi! We wanted to be the first to welcome you.” The woman was beautiful though older than yourself, with rich dark hair that was fastened in boxer braids and tied back in a silk scrunchie.

“I’m Lia and these are my husbands, Sam & Carter.” Her husbands, like her, were equally as beautiful as she was and no less friendly or welcoming to the three of you. They had all appeared to be relatively close in age and there was a deep bond between them that was apparent to you even if you’d just met them.

“Grant,” Steve gave his faux name and rest his hand on the small of your back to ease your worries, “my brother Andy and I share our wife.”

They didn’t bat an eye at the idea of sharing, they hadn’t hesitated to extend the polite first meeting with encouraging and warm smiles that matched their personalities.

“The realtor mentioned there were three of you?”

Carter had questioned them, no less polite than he was before.

“Cole works long distance, he’s here for a few days and gone for weeks.” Heat bloomed beneath Ari’s hand when he placed it upon the small of your back, a nudge for you to converse despite your lips feeling like they’d been seen shut.

“I’m sorry, we never even asked your name.” Lia had drawn attention to you, her warm eyes cast upon you expectantly.

“Danah.” You mumbled the name that had become your new identity. “My name is Danah.”

The name felt foreign rolling off your tongue, unclear and unfamiliar though you would have to grow used to it. You repeated yourself, a little more clearly than before and with more enunciation.

“We know how hard it can be to move so we wanted to welcome you with some food. And if you need any help when your things arrive tomorrow, Sam and Carter have the day off.” Lia handed the gifts of food to Steve, trading them off with a polite and warm offer to have dinner together once you were settled.

With the food and gifts of sweets given, the new neighbours had made a quick departure to give you privacy, though you followed them with your eyes until they were out of view.

“We should get inside.” Ari led you first, following behind you as a shield to block you from view as you walked up the steps of the porch, through the screen door and further to the front door of the house.

For now, you were home.

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[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.

[mj-iza-writer]

Whumptober Day 7

I paced around for hours on empty, I jumped at the slightest of sounds / Alleyway / Radio silence / "Can you hear me?"

"Can you hear me?", a gentle voice called Whumpee from their unconsciousness.

They felt gentle shakes, and light facial taps

Whumpee finally realized someone was touching them, they startled awake. Had they been found.

"Oh geesh, Shh! It's okay. I'm sorry I was walking by the alleyway and I saw you, and I am terrible at minding my business", the person tried to comfort, "as I got closer I thought you were dead, but saw that you were breathing, but I wanted to make sure you were okay, because again I'm bad at minding my business."

Whumpee tried to follow what was being said, but this person talked way too fast for them.

The person looked at them like they were waiting for something.

Whumpee panicked, "I'm sorry, I didn't follow much of that, I think I'm a bit out of it."

"That's okay", the person smiled, "you look like you've been through it lately. Are you hungry?"

"N-no", Whumpee stuttered, just as their stomach grumbled.

"I think your stomach didn't get the heads up", the person snickered.

"Please, I am trying to hide from someone very dangerous, I don't want to get anyone involved", Whumpee spoke up, "please just leave and forget you met me."

The person sighed, "I'm use to danger, and always in for an adventure. How about we go to my home and get you some food, we can get you cleaned up. You can tell me what's going on", the person replied, "my name is Caretaker."

"No I'm sorry. I have bad trust issues", Whumpee looked down, "especially after everything I've been through."

"Let me at least look over your wounds, get you cleaned up, and feed you", Caretaker frowned, "you can see if you trust me after that."

Whumpee frowned and looked down, "okay, I guess anything you do to me can't be any worse from what I've been through, but are you sure. I ran from a bad person who is out looking for me. I would understand completely if you just walked away right now."

"Like I said, I love an adventure", Caretaker smiled.

Whumpee stood up and started to limp.

"Do you want me to carry you? It's a few blocks away", Caretaker offered.

"Thankyou, but I'll manage. My knee was broke a year back and it healed wrong", Whumpee smiled, "you'll have quite an adventure just looking over my wounds."

"I can see that", Caretaker walked beside them, "so for right now, how about I tell you about myself. You can tell me about yourself under the safety of my house."

Whumpee listened intently as they walked, Caretaker was right, they were use to danger.

"So you were active military through that", Whumpee paused.

"Yes, then I stayed out there in medical to assist with the wounded", Caretaker turned toward a building.

"This is it, I hope it's okay my home is technically an apartment. It's got an elevator", Caretaker opened the door.

Whumpee peaked one more time to make sure they weren't followed.

Whumpee and Caretaker finally stepped off of the elevator, and headed to the apartment. Whumpee automatically felt out of place as they entered.

Caretaker examined Whumpee, "my, you have more bruises than skin color, and are these stab wounds?"

"Yes, you name it, it's been done to me", Whumpee sighed, "it's been done several times."

Caretaker frowned, "you have more wounds than some of the soldiers I took care of."

Whumpee smiled weakly. Their stomach gurgled.

"Okay okay, it's coming", Caretaker spoke to Whumpee's stomach.

"Sorry."

"It's okay, I'm sure it has a right to be hungry. How about you tell me what's going on while I cook", Caretaker pulled out a few things, "you can sleep after you eat, if you want to."

"Where do I start", Whumpee sighed, "I was a witness to a murder. The person's name, the murderer is Whumper. I was suppose to be in witness protection, but something slipped up."

Caretaker nodded, listening to them.

"The police came 30 minutes late to retrieve me, but when they got there, I would have been gone. Whumper had found me, I thought it was the police so I opened the door to Whumper. He's kept me captive ever sense."

Caretaker pulled out a cup and poured some lemonade for Whumpee.

Whumpee took it gladly and chugged half of it in one breath. "I told Whumper countless times that I didn't want any part of this, I wouldn't even talk if they let me go. He never listened though."

"I wonder what happened that the time was mixed, that is a serious mistake", Caretaker sighed.

"Yes, this last year has been a nightmare", Whumpee looked themself over, "as you may have seen."

Caretaker dished up some food and gave it to Whumpee.

"No I didn't notice anything", Caretaker winked with a grin.

"Well do you think you trust me enough to rest here, you can eat, sleep, even get a shower", Caretaker offered, "you can stay as long as you need."

Whumpee swallowed a mouthful, "I don't want to impose, you've already done so much. I also don't want to get you mixed up in this. Whumper is extremely dangerous."

"How did you get away?", Caretaker poured some more lemonade.

"Whumper slipped up, I had been waiting for a mistake to happen. I took my chance when I saw it", Whumpee glanced out the window, "I know he is looking for me."

"You can stay here as long as you need to, I wish I could help you more honestly", Caretaker pulled out more food ingredients, "still hungry?"

"This tastes amazing, but I will definitely be full from it. I haven't had food for a while, so my stomach doesn't need too much", Whumpee grinned.

Whumpee followed Caretaker to the couch.

"My guest bedroom is shamefully packed with storage, I hope you are okay on the couch. I'll get it cleaned up if you plan on staying", Caretaker grabbed a pillow and blanket.

"This is perfect", Whumpee looked at it excitedly.

"Go ahead and rest, get some sleep", Caretaker handed them the pillow and blanket.

A few hours passed when a knock came to the door. Whumpee jolted awake.

"That knock", Whumpee whispered.

Caretaker started to walk to the door, "I don't know how someone got up here."

"Wait don't open that, it's him", Whumpee cried, "that's the knock I got kidnapped with.

This time, whoever was there pounded at the door.

Caretaker frowned, they realized this was what Whumpee warned them about. This was their newest adventure.

The pounding started again.

Whumpee was practically falling off the couch, each knock made them slide farther from the door. Now they were trapped. Now a stranger was involved.

Caretaker took a breath and reached their hand into their pocket. They opened the door a few inches.

"Can I help you? No I don't know who that is." Caretaker tried to lie.

"I have a witness saying they saw you walking with a limping person a few hours ago", Whumpee heard the voice, that voice.

The door was forced open.

Whumpee fell to the ground.

Whumper charged in and after Whumpee.

"Thought you could get away from me huh?", Whumper grabbed at Whumpee and slapped them harshly.

The sound of a hammer being pulled back paused Whumper in his steps.

He turned to face the pistol, well actually three pistols. Caretaker was joined by two police officers.

Whumper threw up his hands.

"A civilian alerted us that a strange man was looking for a limping person and that they seemed very dangerous. We had heard witnesses say they've seen Whumper around here", one of the officers stated.

"Caretaker, our chief received your text stating that you had found Whumpee, and they were safe with you", the other officer stated, "she wanted to ask what time they should be ready for dinner as well."

Whumpee looked at Caretaker in bewilderment.

The police began arresting, and removing Whumper from the scene.

"You know the police chief enough to be having dinner with them", Whumpee looked up from the floor.

Caretaker helped them up, "yes, we were active duty together and got really close", Caretaker helped them sit, "go-ahead and get comfortable, I'm not letting you out of my sight."

"What do you mean?", Whumpee looked at him.

"I was supposed to be your protector almost a year ago, you were suppose to come here and stay until everything was done", Caretaker stated sorrowfully, "when the police communicated that you were missing I panicked."

Whumpee stared straight at them.

"When I found you in the alley way, I thought you looked familiar. That's why I tried hard to get you to come with me. I figured if I was wrong I'd be helping someone anyways. When you went to sleep I had the chief send my your missing poster", Caretaker grinned, "I'm sorry I didn't tell all this sooner. I didn't want to weird you out if you weren't you, then you were sleeping."

"So you were supposed to be my witness protection agent", Whumpee stated trying to collect their thoughts, "but how you said."

"Yes, I use to be active military, but now I'm an unassuming person who lives in a lovely apartment that over looks the city", Caretaker smiled, "pretty good cover to do my job. You're staying here now, like you were supposed to originally."

"Uh, okay", Whumpee gave a weak smile.

The police chief walked in, "don't worry, everything will be straightened out, and you should be able to return to normal life after that. Sorry I was eavesdropping. I wouldn't trust anyone else to take care of you", the chief smile, "I'm sorry that everything was so screwed up, I will try my best to make it up to you."

Whumpee nodded. This was a lot.

Caretaker smiled. "It's going to be okay, I promise."

Whumpee nodded again, "I still have trust issues remember?"

Caretaker smiled, "that's fine."

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list, it is not a problem @villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived @porschethemermaid @sacredwrath

[dropofbittersea]

It didn’t escape him that Steve shared his assumed last name. “Are you gonna be my cousin?” Bucky asked dully.

Steve frowned. “Husband, actually,” he said easily, holding up his left hand to show a typical golden band.

Bucky scowled and closed the door.

AKA

An AU in which Bucky is put in the witness protection program and Steve is the agent hired to protect him/pretend to be his husband.

[foreverknightalways]

Natalie says, Means you're not healing as fast as you did. I don't know, but we might be seeing shades of mortality here. Program must be working. I mean, look, you can see yourself in the mirror. Nick answers, Yeah...only sometimes. Natalie asks, Have you tried the artificial blood I gave you? Nick answers, Oh, you mean the low-fat zero cholesterol, no sodium, absolutely... Both Nick and Natalie at the same time say, No flavor? Natalie says, Yeah, well, don't knock it, tiger. It's obviously working.

[forensicated]

(Cannot ever stop lolling at the 'Oh for fucks sake!' expression that Max always has when he's at gunpoint!)

[kittythelitter]

Witnessed - an Amnesia+Witness Protection AU - pre-Steddie

Eddie finds himself coming to slowly, in a way reminiscent of waking up still a little baked and already hungover. He's kind of aware but also dazed and drowsy. His head is pounding and his mouth feels and tastes terrible. He's slowly becoming aware of a steady beep which calls him back to sitting at his mother's bedside in the hospital all those years ago.

As he becomes more aware of it the beep starts to increase in tempo and noise until it's indistinguishable from that terrible alarm clock his dad had insisted Eddie use to get to elementary school on time, because he couldn't be bothered to get up with Eddie.

Eddie tries to reach out to stop it but finds he can't lift his arm or sit up because he's tangled up in his sheets or something.

This is alarming enough that Eddie finally pries his eyes open, and isn't that a task. Not only is whatever he took or drank or did last night making his eyelids incredibly heavy, but his eyes had like. Three weeks' worth of crust sealing them. As the brightness fades and the room swims into focus Eddie spots a small swarm of nurses rushing towards where he is lying and surrounding what he now sees is in fact a hospital bed.

The room appears to be the unholy love child of some kind of jankey old corporate building and a hospital. The nurses are dressed way more neatly and in much nicer clothes than any nurse he's seen at the clinic where dumb kids in Hawkins get their stomachs pumped. (It's also the clinic he's gone to for every broken bone or vaccination needed for school as a child.)

Once Eddie is fully aware, one of the nurses seems to realize he's awake and rushes out of the room. Someone helps him sit up and pulls a tube out of his throat and another out of his nose. The ones going into his arms and all the wires stay but he can now sip at the straw someone holds to his mouth and chase the feeling in his mouth away with cool water. He still can't move his arms or legs. He's still strapped to the bed; it's just that now he and the bed are sitting up.

Did he get arrested? Do they strap down drug dealers who are coming off a bad high in the hospital? When they took Reefer Rick they'd just handcuffed one of his wrists to the bed. But Reefer Rick had been at the clinic in Hawkins not whatever weird corporate government hospital Eddie is in.

A man who was not particularly portly but had a gentle sort of roundness about him in a sweater under a blazer strides into the room and everyone seems to come to attention around him.

"Mr Munson!" The man exclaimes, "We're so relieved to see that you're awake. You gave us quite the scare!"

Eddie stares at the man and trieds to respond. All that came out was a croak. One of the nurses brings the straw back towards his mouth. As he sips and tries to clear his throat the man continues.

"I'm Dr. Owens, my colleagues and I have been taking care of you while you recover. I don't know if you recognize me, Eddie, but we've spoken a few times you were quite disoriented at the time and seemed to be experiencing some memory loss. I hate to keep asking this right when you wake up but, what's the last thing you remember?"

Eddie croaks again but manages to push past that to ask. "Where am I? Do I need a lawyer? Does my uncle know where I am?"

The man's face falls and he seems to chew on the questions for a moment. "You're at a specialty hospital in Washington DC. You don't need a lawyer. You're not in any trouble. In fact can someone please take those straps off? He hasn't had the convulsions in a while and he certainly won't have them now that he's awake." The nurses immediately start unbuckling the white rubbery straps keeping Eddie in place. "As for your uncle- well. Eddie, what do you remember? There might be a lot you need to be caught up on."

"Wayne and I can't afford a trip to DC let alone a specialty hospital. Let me talk to him. I get a phone call right?" He'd leap out of bed if someone hadn't filled his limbs with lead.

"Eddie please calm down. I understand that this is stressful. Don't worry about the cost; this is all on the government's dime. If you can tell me what you remember I can go over all that happened but I need to know how far back to start."

Eddie didn't understand but maybe he just. Didn't remember. Anything.

"I don't remember anything that would result in me being in a government hospital in DC."

"Okay. Do you remember the date? Of whatever you remember most recently?"

"It was uhhhh." Eddie tries to remember what he was doing before waking up in the hospital. "It was the last day before spring break so Friday, March 14th. Henderson said it was Pi day and I asked why he hadn't brought any in, and he told me in his snarky little way that it was the mathematical pi."

"Okay. What's the last thing you remember that day?"

"I was. I was. Leaving Hellfire, the DND club at my highschool, the little bastards had pulled a spectacular victory out of nowhere and defeated my big boss. And uh. Then I had plans for. Uh."

"A drug deal?" Eddie fought back a finch.

"No! Uh I-"

"It's fine Eddie, you're not in trouble for that. Compared to the rest of what happened giving a cheerleader some weed is the least of the government's concerns."

Was this the world's weirdest sting?

"We don't have any sure information on what happened that night but the current theory is that you gave Christina Cunningham a ride from Hawkins High to your residence in order to perform some kind of transaction. Initially we thought you were selling her marijuana, but information we have indicates that you normally did those deals at school, which means we've basically had to speculate why you brought her home. Any information you can give us. Anything you can remember from that night, will help us. And hopefully you, figure out everything that happened. "

Eddie stares. "What the fuck man! I don't- Is this an elaborate setup? If you don't know why don't you ask Chrissy?"

The man winces. "Unfortunately Miss Cunningham was killed that night."

"What the fuck. What the fuck. Is this some kind of sick joke?"

"Regrettably not." Dr Owens gestures and one of the nurses hands him a file. He flips though it and pulls out a photo. Chrissy Cunningham with her eyes gone and her whole body twisted and snapped. In Eddie's fucking trailer.

"Holy shit. Holy shit. What the fuck happened."

"Well we're hoping you can help us clarify the details but we have a rough idea. I assume, based on your reaction that you don't remember witnessing this."

"I -what? No she was gonna come home with me. The game ended and I think she got in my van but after that is somewhere between fuzzy and totally gone. I was at. A friend's boathouse I think? And I was terrified. I remember being terrified. Flickering lights. Pain. " Eddie wheezes and realizes his face is wet and a panic attack is rolling in.

"Okay! Don't strain yourself. You did great." Dr Owens rambling fades into the background and someone fits an oxygen mask onto his face.

"I'm sorry Eddie. I didn't mean to upset you. I'm just trying to piece together what we don't know. I'll tell you what we do know happened, and we can go from there. You mentioned Hellfire. Are you aware that there's some that believe that dungeons and dragons promotes satanism?"

"Yes?"

"Well. A small group of religious zealots in your town took that idea too far. Do you remember the chemical leaks a few years back? "

Eddie nods slowly.

"Well a slow chemical poisoning of a few people with the right beliefs and dispositions over the course of a year led to the formation of a cult led by Jason Carver, who genuinely believed that you were some kind of demon infiltrating their town. We are not entirely sure why, but he and his followers abducted you and Chrissy Cunningham that night and brutally and ritualistically killed Chrissy and two other students of Hawkins high. It's our belief that they chose people who who had been formerly 'innocent' before, in their eyes you 'corrupted' them. People in their in group who they found out bought drugs from you.

Chrissy was probably just convenient. She was dating Jason. So believed to be good or innocent, part of their group, but she was at your trailer when they abducted you. From what we heard you were drugged and made to watch the murders. They had you for about two days before you managed to escape. Once you were free your friends in Hellfire found you but before you could go to the police, Jason managed to pin the murders on you, and because of the chemicals in the water supply, the town was incredibly susceptible, and some were even hallucinating. He managed to convince all but the Hellfire Club that you were guilty. At some point they found you again and you and the Hellfire Club managed to fight off the angry mob long enough that our guys, who had been alerted to something strange happening in your town, were able to rescue you. But not before there were some casualties. Your uncle, and several Hellfire Club members among them.

Unfortunately, other than Jason, you were subjected to the most contamination, while being drugged by the cult, and it has affected your memory as well as your immune system. For that reason you will need to stay in this facility for a while yet. The town is also still recovering from the affects of the leak and as a result we fear for your safety should you go back to that town. Most people believed you died in the mob's attack and we believe it is in your best interest that it stays that way.

As recompense for the loss and trauma you experienced, the government will continue keeping you here, no cost, until you're fully recovered, at which time you will be given a new identity and whatever you need to get back on your feet and start a new life somewhere you've never been attacked by a mob. We'd offer to let you bring or otherwise stay in touch with your family and friends but your uncle, along with the other members of Hellfire your age didn't survive the mob. If there's anyone else you're very close to. Who you'd trust with your life. We can find a way to get you in touch with them. But they'd have to sign NDAs and you might be putting them at risk if there's any cult members still out there after all this. "

The thing is. There weren't. Everyone Eddie loved was dead, and his hometown was out for his blood. His only real option was to go with what the government said to do.

- - -

Except. That was almost all a lie. Which he didn't find out until many years later, when he and some of his friends were in Boston.

MJ and Spike had a show at a place called the Rat and were staying at a friend's grandma's townhouse in Somerville for a whole week for free. There was plenty of space so anyone who could get the week off was welcome in the townhouse and in the piece of shit van to ride up there, so long as they brought their own snacks and grass, gas, or ass. (the only one who brought any kind of "ass" was MJ's girlfriend, Tara, the other clingers-on needed to bring some kind of green). The trip ended up being Eddie, MJ, Spike, Tara, Lillian, Ronnie and Kit.

MJ and Spike were performing Tuesday and Thursday, so the rest of the week the group could do whatever. Mainly play boardgames, get stoned, and listen to music. They were all a little past their days of partying every night, and would rather save their money to spend it on better food. That being said, Friday, the last night they were in town, the girls talked the rest of them into going to this bar that they'd heard gay things about. So the group spent Friday night at Machine, a nearby primarily lesbian bar.

The first round had been brought to their group by Tara who wanted to celebrate her girlfriend's amazing shows, but after that the couple, and the rest of the sapphics, split off, and the remaining two went outside to smoke.

They stood in the alleyway passing the spliff back and forth, when the door banged open and someone dressed like they got dressed to Rocky Horror while pulling exclusively from a men's workwear store stumbled into the alley, hurling into the gutter.

As they straightened, palms braced against the rough brick of the alleyway, Eddie was able to read the sash hap-hazardly pinned to their outermost layer. "Future Groom," it had presumably read before someone had crossed out the word "Groom" and written "Bride" over it. Someone else had written "I could be a groom if I wanted to! Don't be sexist!"

Eddie pulled his eyes away from the sash and up to the face. The person looked vaguely familiar, but what really threw Eddie off was the vast range of emotions that flashed over their face as they drank in Eddie's face with their rapidly filling eyes.

They stumbled, hand outstretched towards Eddie's face. Before he could react the door once again slammed open and a voice announced, "There you are Robbie! I was looking all over for you. Your soon-to-be wife would like a dance." A tall broad figure, only focused on Robbie strode out into the alley. They had an undercut under what should've a gross messy sweaty bun, but it looked stupidly fabulous. Their toned back was exposed by their golden glittery fishnet mesh shirt, tucked into tight black leather pants.

Robbie glanced between their face and Eddie's still in some kind of shock. "Stevie, I think somebody slipped me something."

'Stevie' gripped Robbies face in their hands. "What's going on? Spins? Colors? Drowsiness? Full on Starcourt?"

"I- I'm seeing Eddie!" Tears spilled out of Robbies eyes and Stevie pulled them close.

Eddie stood, frozen with shock and fear as he heard a name he hadn't been called in almost a decade. He realized why Robbie looked familiar. Robin Buckley, and probable fellow friend of Dorothy, band geek in the Hawkins fucking High Class of '86. She probably thought she was seeing a cult leader and serial killer that tormented her senior year of High School. She was probably fucking terrified. He hoped, as his brain started kicking into action, that whoever she was with was not someone who would recognize this, and she'd think it was a drug fueled nightmare tomorrow.

Eddie's luck did not decide to grant him his wish, as fucking King Steve fucking Harrington, in a gold fishnet mesh shirt of all things, turned around to look at Eddie.

Eddie expected a punch to the face. To be killed, or maybe arrested. He did not expect for King Steve fucking Harrington's eyes to also fill with tears and something almost like desperate hope and love. Harrington, like Buckley, reached out towards Eddie, but he succeeded in touching Eddie's face. So reverently. So gently.

"What the fuck?" Harrington breathed, his voice choked up with some kind of emotion. "Eddie?"

If Eddie's logical brain were in control, he might've used his self-preservation skills to try to gaslight these two drunk people into forgetting they saw the supposedly dead cult-leader and serial-killer from their highschool.

It was not.

Instead of all the things it could've been, what came out of his mouth was, "King Steve knows my name?"

He's not sure why that's what did it, but, in what might've been the most surprising turn of events Eddie could remember, he suddenly had his arms full of two sobbing near-strangers, who were clinging to him like they were afraid he'd disappear.

***

I'm thinking this would be like 1995 which means gay marriage wouldn't be legalized in Massachusetts for another 9 years but. Robin and her fiancee don't know if/when it would be legalized so they're doing a not-legal with friends as witnesses wedding.

In my mind most of the party ends up based around Boston. Robin went to BU class of '91 (gap year because Trauma) to study languages and play trumpet in the BU band. She chose so she could get away from Hawkins while also having someone who Understood nearby in case of a Code Red. (Nancy at Emerson. Maybe Nancy's her fiancee if you like that!)

Steve, of course, followed Robin and they lived together in Allston for a while. Dustin went to MIT class of '93. Erica is at Harvard class of '97. I'll make a separate post about all my thoughts but. For this. They're in Boston. It's 1995. Steve, Robin and Nancy all live in/near Boston. Eddie lives in Chelsea, NYC. I don't know New York as well as Boston.