#witness protection

[neverthebabysitter]

Thinking about that prompt i found on TikTok about faking your death and then coming back and knocking on your best friend's door like nothing happened.

That but make Steve fake his own death accidentally, so he is clueless why Robin is freaking out when he goes to visit her.

(with a side of Steve going feral a la Jonh Wick and Die Hard over his car, i'm so normal about this, so normal, it's not like i use this like an oportunity to make a b99 reference, pff, Gertie who??? )

Like, i know nothing about witness protection and how faking your death would work, but, but- let's use our imagination.

Steve's father being a lawyer and messing with someone he shouldn't have. He ends up dead and because of this, the cops think they could go after Steve too.

Which, true, Steve has an accident that destroys his car (RIP BMW, I love you, but this is for plot reasons, you would be missed), so now he has to be under witness protection.

Steve, like the ball of repressed trauma and anger issues that he is, decides that the best thing to do is go after the people who destroyed his car, a la John Wick; because:

Going after them to avenge his father: no, thank you.

Going after them to avenge his car: yes, let me go for my bat.

That without forgetting to leave a cryptic message to Eddie's and Robin's voicemail.

While Steve is having his own action movie with handling the 'mob' and cops that kinda want to help, kinda don't care; the rest of the Party is freaking out because "WHAT DO YOU MEAN NO ONE INVITED HIM TO SPEND CHRISTMAS WITH SOMEONE AND WHAT DO YOU MEAN HIS CAR WAS FOUND IN THE QUARRY???".

Dustin asks Robin if something happened with Steve during christmas, like kissing under the mistletoe or something, only for Robin to say she didn't invite him because Eddie did, but Eddie hears that and goes, "Uh, no? I chicken out; I thought you would invite him after I didn't."

They asking around if someone invited Steve because it's kind of public knowledge that his parents suck, but no one did, and he hasn't come to the Party's Christmas party yet, so he's probably mad at them.

But Eddie and Robin are having a Bad Feeling™ because of the voicemails, and Hopper is being called to identify a car that it was found in the quarry that morning.

And Hopper knows that car, he has seen that car since Steve was a dumb teenager that got his parties busted by the chief. He hasn't seen Steve for a while. He wasn't at the christmas party. Where was he again?

The Party still isn't in the know, but Hopper is already looking for Steve but he can't find him and-

Remember that i told you Steve was in witness protection? Well, i think sometimes they fake their deaths, i'm not sure, but this is the perfect oportunity and cover to pretend that Steve died.

So the government uses it, and The Party doesn't know because different branch of the government and all that.

When Hopper founds out he doesn't know how to tell the other that Steve had an accident and they are still looking for him in the quarry; but they already know, they used Dustin's cerebro to find out what was going on.

Everyone is devastaded, and then, Eddie and Robin hear their voicemail again only to bring out that maybe it wasn't an accident, that maybe Steve did it on porpose.

And grief, pain, mourning, sadness, anger. Just a lot of feelings.

Meanwhile, Steve is kicking ass and using the Bad Guys™ headquarters like his own personal rage room.

Blablabla something something something.

Steve let out his anger, has a few personal realisations, lets himself think about the trauma he's endured all those years and comes back like a new person, ready to confess his feelings for Eddie Munson and let people care about him.

The first thing is go talk with Robin, she's probably worried about him and she probably knows better than him to help him confess to Eddie.

So he goes, only to be utterly confuse by the amount of tears, snot, yells and hugs that Robin welcomes him. It's not like he died.

Then Robin is flabbergasted by his Audacity.

Both of them fall into a bickering that makes Robin cry harder because she thought she wouldn't have this again and Steve starts to cry because Robin is crying and now they're both crying.

Needless to say, they catch up about all the things that happened in both ends.

It's not the end of tears, hugs and yelling, though.

Just give Steve all the confort that he refused to accept because he didn't think he deserved and that people didn't know how to give.

Fluff, Fluffy, Fluff. A bit of Steddie here.

Yeah, that's all.

[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.

[ihni]

Okay but the Hargroves being in witness protection, and that's why they moved to Hawkins?

Let's say that Max ran away from home because Neil was fighting with Susan, and then of course Neil was in a bad mood so he laid into Billy when it was discovered, because it was Billys job as a big brother to keep an eye on his sister. Billy is sent out to find her. And like, he knows she likes to skate in some abandoned parking garage so he goes there, and finds her just sitting there, and they actually talk a little and are on the same page about how it sucks to be in the family they're currently in.

And then there's a noise, from somewhere in the parking garage where no one should be. Billy goes to check it out even though Max tries to stop him, but he wants to see what it is. They creep closer to see a bunch of bad people doing a major drug deal or something, only one of the parties screws the other over so Billy and Max get to witness an execution. Max makes a noise, involuntary, and someone hears them, and Billy grabs Max and they make a run for it.

They make it out of there, they go to the cops, they do the whole witness thing ... And then, the whole family is placed in witness protection because of the threat to them.

Cue the move to Hawkins, Indiana - the middle of nowhere.

Everyone hates it there. Neil is angry and blames Billy, so he's harsher than he used to be, against everyone but mostly Billy. Max is angry she had to leave her friends and her school and she blames Billy too, for checking out the noise when she wanted them to leave. And Billy is also angry for all the aforementioned reasons, but he blames Max, because if she'd just stayed home - or hell, not made that sound which got them noticed - they wouldn't be here. (And Susan is just doing a bad job at trying to see the positive side of things)

Monsters was not what Max or Billy expected from this boring little town, but like, they've obviously seen some shit too.

And yeah, that's what I've got so far.

[catfindr]

[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

[the-stars-sigh-when-i-get-high]

2 broke girls is sooo underused in Marvel fanfiction 😩

[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.

[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

[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!)