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sabraeal · 1 year ago

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In Plain Sight, Chapter 7

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Obiyukiweek 2023, Day 4: Rejection

Silence falls so thick over the line that even the fuzz from Obi’s side blots out; a total eclipse of sound. It doesn’t click, not the way it does when a call’s been lost-- or worse, severed completely from the other end-- but Shirayuki’s heart pounds so loud in her ears that she can’t trust whether or not she would have heard it if it did. Maybe she’s just been standing here for minutes, holding onto a call long over while paperwork’s churning to make her into someone else’s problem, someone who knows how to deal with a girl who can’t—

“Sorry, Miss.” The word breathlessly fans into static; she’s so happy to hear him that she forgets to flinch. “Connection must have gotten dropped there. Who is this fiancé of yours?”

“You.”

“Ahh...so I did hear that right,” he mutters wearily. “And you’re sure that it’s...? I mean, your neighbors, they think I’m...?”

“Martha-- Mrs Kino, I mean-- she talked to the movers--” Obi groans, a really, terribly distracting noise-- “and she said that they said that when they were hired, it was a man on the phone. And since I don’t have a job lined up, she assumed...?”

Someone had to be paying for it. Not many people would jump to Uncle Sam.

“Right, right.” A sigh fizzles over the phone. “You’ve got a real nosy neighbor there, Miss.”

“I’m sorry.” The mattress at her back is the perfect firmness, but at times like these she wishes it were enough to swallow her whole. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“No, no. It’s not your fault.” At least this time he sounds amused as well as put out. “That’s just how they make ‘em out here in the greatest state in the union. It’s not like we send you out into the world with top class espionage skills so you can trick the grandma next door.”

No, but she doubts Agent Anda would be pleased to know she tripped right out of the starting gate. “I know, but still. I’ve become a real handful, and I’m sure you’d rather be--”

“Trust me, Miss.” She feels rather than hears the drop in his voice, hitting the register that makes every hair stand up on end. A shiver courses down her spine, and it’s strange that it feels so...good. “Handling you is the highlight of my day. I just always thought I’d be taken out to dinner first. You know, before any marriage proposals.”

“Oh.” She probably shouldn’t be so breathless on what’s, ostensibly, a professional phone call. “Right. Did you want--?”

“Is that all your neighbor knows?”

She blinks. “Um...?”

“That there was a man who hired the movers,” he clarifies, the distant sound of clacking keys filling the silence his voice doesn’t. “I helped you into the house on the first day, did she indicate that I must be your husband, or...?”

“Uh, I don’t...think so?” Though Martha Kino seems like the exact sort of woman who might sit on that sort of information, if only to pull it out as a cute story at a baby shower. “I told them I moved in on my own. You’re supposed to be on a business trip.”

It’s luck and the last shred of her common sense that manages to swallow, and a very good kisser too. It’s bad enough that she can’t forget his stint as Hot Airport Boyfriend, but him knowing she can’t? What pride she has shrivels just thinking about it.

“Right. Right, okay.” His voice gains solid footing now, picking up speed as he tells her, “Don’t worry, Miss. Just let me handle it. I know the perfect husband material.”

The sun’s still up when Shirayuki jolts awake, her mouth dry and sticky and tasting like something might have crawled in and died. A terrible beat drums right behind her temples; when she levers up to her elbows, it pounds loud enough her head swims.

Ah, right, water. She needs to hydrate. Because she drank her weight in margaritas at lunch. Aspen may have a face that could be committed to stained glass, radiant halo and all, but those cocktails of hers— well, if any of the folk around here held with the idea that demons could come to you in the guise of an angel, two drinks of that stuff would be proof positive. It’s been years since she’s had anything but a single glass of the fruitiest, most mixed drink at the bar, and yet she’d been tempted into not just one of those margaritas, but—

Shirayuki blinks against the throbbing behind her eyes. Two, wasn’t it? One when she first sat down, another when the sweet tea was just a little too sweet for her tastes. Enough to flirt with her limits, but not dip over-- at least, not at the backyard barbecues back home, or lab happy hours. But maybe now that the humidity could take the Feels Like temperature over three digits, her well-known tipping point has inched itself a little closer to the starting line.

It’d be the best explanation for how terrible her mouth tastes. Shirayuki had never been much of a drinker, not even in her grad school days, but there’s been at least a morning or two where she’s woken up after just one drink too many, and well, it has a flavor just like this. But with only a pre-dinner nap, she can’t have earned this one, not when she couldn’t have possibly had anymore, not after—

Oh god, she told all of them that she had a fiancé. Not just any fiancé, of course, oh not, but a tall, tanned, expert kisser, and she…

Here. Aspen’s angel smile bares teeth. Looks like you might need one of these for the road.

Ah, well. That would definitely explain that. At least it’s nothing a good, carb-heavy dinner couldn’t fix, once the room stopped sloshing at the edges.

With a groan, Shirayuki drags herself upright, wincing at the light leaking through the edges of the blind. Can’t have been sleeping for long if it’s still that bright—

Something slips from the folds of her sheets, clattering onto the floor. Ah, her phone. Of course. Because she’d gotten in the door, and Obi’s sixth sense for trouble must have tingled. He’d called in just to check in, and she…

Shirayuki blinks down at her pillow, at the damp patch where she must have drooled, and— and she doesn’t remember ending the call. Only that one moment she was talking, and the next she was waking up, this foul taste in her mouth. Which could only mean that he— no, that she—

She’d just fallen asleep, mid-call. Like she was some— some small child who wandered off to nap. Oh, she can just imagine the way he’ll grin the next time she sees him, all his long limbs folded over her counter, saying something like, at your size I’m not surprised you need a little nap to make it through the day. And he’ll look at her all sly, all casual, like he wants her to circle the whole of the kitchen to step on his toes, to bunch his shirt in her fists and tell him just what someone her size can do. He’ll look at her like an invitation because—

Oh god, because he’s supposed to. That’s how fiancés look when they’re in their lover’s house. Like they belong.

Her head crashes into the cradle of her palms. Less than a week ago, Shirayuki couldn’t even see the appeal of a kiss, and now here she is, thinking about putting her hands on some— some stranger in hopes he might bend down and let her figure out whether her first try was some fluke, or— or something else. Something almost as terrifying as being hustled out of her home in the dead of night and told that if she wanted to live to see thirty, she’d need to be someone else.

It’s…a lot. Too much. And now he’s her fiancé on top of it all, because she’s never bothered to learn that real life doesn’t give extra credit just for choosing to make it harder.

A sigh slips from her as she crouches, just enough to rescue her phone from where it’s skittered under the bedskirt, and— ah, not the best idea. Not when she’s clearly a few hours out from her last sip of something non-alcoholic. But she’s come too far to turn back now. Oma didn’t raise a quitter.

She didn’t raise a lightweight either, but that’s apparently what she’s got; Shirayuki gets to her knees, trying to get her hand around the edge of the case, and ugh, her stomach rolls up toward her throat, bile burning in the back of her throat, and—

Bzz. Bzz. Bzz. The case beats a soft tattoo against her fingers, muffled but where the screen’s pressed to the floor, and when she flips the screen up, Sugar Daddy blazes across her notifications. meet here @ 11

Sitting back on her heels— ugh, bleh, that position’s not much better— Shirayuki squints into the glare. She can’t possibly be reading that right. Eleven? Tonight? It’s about the mission, she’s sure, it’s just—

It would look bad, wouldn’t it? A young woman slipping out of her house that close to midnight while her partner’s out of town? Reads much less like a professional business meeting, and more like a, er, well, booty call.

Gears churn as she thumbs through to her messages, trying to make teeth catch. It just— it doesn’t make sense. Leaving so late will only put grist in the rumor mill, reaching its peak when her prodigal fiancé arrives, seemingly none the wiser. Unless, of course, he’s relying on that— on the neighbors thinking there’s a third wheel to their bicycle, one that can be disastrously revealed at the most dramatically appropriate moment, and he can go straight back to being her handler, and she can be—

Ah, her messages are finally open. And there’s Obi’s, right at the top— the only, besides a few utilities and some spam— and his latest is already bold in the preview. It unfurls when she swipes over it, mostly just her inquiry into her kitchenware, but the last line is still meet here @ 11. Just that. And, well…

“A link?” Her head tilts, but that does nothing to clarify the context. When she clicks, the map app opens, pointing her straight toward a— “Panera?”

Well, he had said he would like to get taken out to dinner first. She just thought Agent Obi might have higher standard. “Are those even open that late?”

Maybe they are for government employees. Or maybe they keep someone on staff there, just for these sorts of clandestine conversations, the kind that can’t happen over phone lines or during regular business hours. Or—

Her eyes flick up, a reflex more than a conscious thought, catching the time at the corner of the screen. 9:23, it reads, and there’s something about it that makes her take a second glance. The light pouring in from her windows, maybe, too bright for evening, even this far into spring. Or possibly the taste in her mouth, too strong to be from only a few hours of sleep. Whatever it is, her gaze lingers this time, squinting at where the number crouch in the corner, and—

“AM?” she squeaks, stumbling to her feet. “I’ve slept all day?”

With a wild sweep of her arm, she opens the blinds, the bright light of day filtering through, and oh, ah— there’s Mrs Kino, tending her garden. She looks up, a smile wrinkling the corners of her eyes, and waves.

“Haah…” Shirayuki sighs, weakly waving back. “I think…I need to get in the shower.”

It’s just lunch.

That’s what she tells herself as the spray pelts her back, water blurring her vision as she hastily scrapes a razor up her leg. It’s just a professional, business lunch at a chain restaurant. Not even a true sit-down experience, but…fast casual, the sort of thing that might make a nice date in undergrad, when you don’t have the time or the resources to do much besides look at each other for an hour.

Certainly nothing that she needs to put herself out for, she thinks as she skims lotion up her thighs, spreading the scent of passionflower and hibiscus far past any decent hemline. Not that she’s worried about that— hemlines and what might go past them. No, it’s just…it had been a while since she shaved, and if you shave, then you have to hydrate, and if she’s going to pamper herself, well, her nicest moisturizer is a good start.

Because it’s not a date. It’s not even coffee. Not that she would have coffee, she reminds herself, flicking through her dresses. Caffeine gives her the jitters, and the last thing she needs is to make her hands any more unsteady, or her stomach any more unsettled. There’s no reason to worry about how so many of her nicer clothes fall more on the work-appropriate side of the fashion scale rather than, er…play appropriate. This is all just a…a preliminary meeting to go over the details of this whole situation. An exchange of information before he commits to this whole…fake engagement.

So there’s no need to look cute, she insists, tugging at her most stubborn flyaways in the rearview mirror. After all, then he might think she’s trying to impress him. And if he thinks she wants to impress him, he might assume that she’s attracted to him. That maybe she’s angling to repeat that kiss in the airport, the one that had sent static through every limb of her body, the one she can’t possibly forget—

And that would be ridiculous. Shirayuki doesn’t do attraction, at least not the way other people do. She doesn’t just look at someone and decide they might be nice to touch, or that maybe she wouldn’t mind if they leaned close enough for her to catch a hint of their natural scent, or quiver just at the idea that he might close the space between them, brushing his lips over hers as gently as he had the first time, swallowing her gasp whole as he coaxes her to—

Ah! She claps a hand to her cheek, glass door jingling shut behind her. Not even the air conditioning helps cool her flush. The last thing she needs is Obi to see her like this, flushed and trembling just from the thought of him. Which is good since, with a quick scan of the shop, Shirayuki knows…

He’s not here.

There’s an explanation for this, she’s sure. He could be late, for one; Obi doesn’t strike her as the sort of person who feels the need to be fifteen minutes early to be on time. So it makes sense that he could simply be lagging few minutes behind, caught up in a traffic snarl or running a little after schedule because he wanted to catch the last few minutes of a show. He could even be in his car right now, tangled up in the tail end of a story on NPR, just wanting to hear whether or not the girl on antimalarials ever regained her memory, or if that illegally adopted baby from Korea ever actually found his parents.

There, a half-dozen reasons right off the top of her head for him to be elsewhere. And still, she can’t shake the feeling that she’s been, well, stood up.

“Ah, excuse me?”

She blinks. Oh, she’s standing right in front of the door.

“Sorry,” she blurts out, barely thinking. A shuffle scoots her clear of the vestibule. “Wasn’t paying attention.”

“Hah, no, that’s not…” The man beside her huffs out a laugh, shoving a hand through a mop of blond so pale she’s only ever seen it on kids under three.

“You must be Shirayuki.”

That gets her attention. “Who…?”

There’s nothing about that boyish face that says mobster, but that doesn’t mean much, when she hasn’t seen any outside of The Departed. Still, there’s no snake tattoo crawling up his wrist— one of the sure signs of one of Umihebi’s men, according to Agent Anda— his nice button down only baring milky pale skin up to the elbow. And there’s no malice in his smile, only teeth so white she swears they sparkle, and eyes that crinkle at the corners, so dark a blue she almost mistakes them for black.

“Sorry, I’m doing this all backwards. I’m Zen.” He thrusts out a hand, palm refreshingly cool against hers. “Zen Wisteria. And I believe I’m your” —his smile hooks up at one side, as bashful as the little bounce he does on his toes— “future husband.”

Shirayuki blinks at him. What had Obi said on the phone yesterday? I know the perfect husband material.

“Excuse me,” she murmurs tightly. “But I think I’d like your badge number.”

#obiyukiweek23 #day 4 #obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #witness protection au #my fic #ans #eheheheheheheheheheheheheheeh >:3c

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romeoandjulietyouwish · 2 years ago

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Vox Machina 48: witness protection AU?

okay okay okay okay

So for reasons, most of VM are put into witness protection

Percy and Cassandra for the briarwood situation.

Vex and Vax for being whistleblowers on the Clasp.

Pike and Grog for the biker gang called the Herd of Storm

They are all put into a small town, mechanic shops, gyms, book stores, etc.

Keyleth and Scanlan have no idea that any of them are in hiding. Scanlan is just a singer that switches between the coffee shop and the bar they tend to frequent. Keyleth is a gardener who tends to community lots and gardens.

Since it's such a small community, they get close immediately, there's not many other people their age around. It's hard because five of them can't say literally anything about who they are, they have to make up lies.

And yet...they still love each other so much and cling to each other when things get hard. And their court dates get closer and closer...

and it's up to you which part finds them: the clasp, the briarwoods, or the herd.

#witness protection au #critical role #vox machina #tlovm #the legend of vox machina #lis makes hcs

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kittythelitter · 2 years ago

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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.

#stranger things #stranger things au #stranger things spoilers #eddie munson #pre-steddie #pre steddie #steddie #implied ronance #Robin Buckley #steve harrington #dr owens #Amnesia #memory loss #government lies #witness protection #witness protection au

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detective-giggles · 2 years ago

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@welcometololaland tagged me in WIP Wednesday. I have no idea what to share and am having an ant fiasco in my hotel room and 😖😖 so here, have a little teeny snippet from my witness protection AU.

🪪🪪🪪

“I’m coming; hold your fucking horses,” TK yells. He tugs on the hood of his hoodie, pulling it up, hoping to hide the fact that he’d been in bed for the better part of 17 hours. He yanks the door open and pouts when he realizes it’s Carlos.

“Do you ever use the peep hole?” he asks pointing.

TK inhales sharply and then sighs; it’s been a bad brain day and he doesn’t have the mental energy to argue. “Why are you here?” He asks. Carlos’ face falls and he feels bad almost immediately.

He can’t decide if he’s still embarrassed about the fiasco yesterday or angry at his own lack of impulse control. He’s absolutely certain the Marshals have rules against dating witnesses, he can’t be mad at Carlos for that. But before he can open his mouth to apologize, Carlos steps towards him, hooks a finger under his chin, tilts his head up, and presses a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Oh.”

🪪🪪🪪

Not tagging anyone specific. This is a fun little thing and if you’re a writer and haven’t posted- then I wanna see what you have 😘 so if this comes across your dash, consider yourself tagged!

#witness protection au #wip wednesday #tarlos

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starry-bi-sky · 7 months ago

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i think i'm hilarious -- aka i made blood blossom danny au memes

all of these come from my DpxDC prompt "i am pushing the batdad agenda--" and it's corresponding additions in the reblogs ksdjlf.

i am. rotating them in my head. forever and always. personally i think there should be more batdad aus in dpxdc, their dynamic could be neat. :)

#THAT FIRST ONE TOOK ME A HOT MINUTE TO MAKE. i have never been more careful with a trackpad. imgflip doesnt have an undo button #i think its fucking hilarious #its a batdad au #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dpxdc #dpxdc crossover #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc #dc x dp #mmm i need to come up with a name for this au #found family ftw WHOOOO. i could just do a generic 'blood blossom au' tag but i want a specific one because i like being unique #eldest batkid danny au #chronically ill danny au #danny: im grateful he's helping me but im still kinda apprehensive...#battinson: vaults over a car to escape reporters. likes rock music. isn't fucking evil. punched a cop. actively looking for a cure #danny: ...huh. okay.#furiously pushing the batdad agenda for my own gain. just look at them guys. they're funny little guys.#unofficial witness protection to adoption pipeline.#bruce wayne accidental teen acquisition. save a teenager gain a son #its about the adventure of them going from strangers to friends to family :)#im bored of the bruce slander guys in the words of hermes from hadestown:#“[its] about someone who *tries”*#danny saw a funny man in a funny costume eat the side of a dumpster and has never related more with someone on a spiritual level #“brother eugh i feel that. oh heY WAIT HERO BUDDY?? SAME HAT??? SAME HAT?”#danny's been the only hero he's known since he was 13. on god he is leaping at this opportunity. like YES. PLEASE BE ANOTHER HERO #HELP ME GET AWAY FROM CERTIFIED CRAZY MAN. HELP. YOU'RE SCARY AND HIDING IN THE DARK. EVEN BETTER. HELP A BROTHER OUT HERE #blood blossom au #for the time being thats the name

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pineapple-frenzy · 5 months ago

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Hello! If you are still taking prompts, literally anything from your flower soulmate au for Zutara 👀💜🌸

Aahhh this took quite a while but I had too many thoughts and ideas for what to draw

I went ahead and made another comic and I'm just gonna ramble for a bit qlfjlqkwqk

I think I mentioned this before, but Katara didn't like her soulmark flowers for a quite some time because they remind her too much of painful memories and her inability to protect those dear to her. So for the longest time she would pick them off her face and pretend they weren't there. It wasn't til she worked things out with Zuko that she started to accept the flowers as a part of her and she didn't feel the need to pick them anymore

#zutara #zuko #katara #atla #soulmark au #my art #art requests #katara's flowers remind her of kya's death because right before she sees her mother's dead body she witnesses how hydrangeas erupted from #the crown of hakoda's head and immediately wither away and ever since then she just associates soulmark flowers with that awful memory #when she gets the flowers on her face that don't go away it's like having a constant reminder of that memory #and a constant reminder of how she wasn't able to protect not just her mother but her soulmate as well #so the flowers make her feel like she's powerless and helpless #it's like a wound that never heals!!!#the eglantine roses are a symbol for a wound to heal!!!#the way she feels about the flowers kinda sorta parallels how zuko feels about his scar #the last comic i drew for this au it was katara's scarred hands reaching for zuko's scarred face #but this time it's zuko's flowered hands reaching for the flowers on katara's face #idk i just think that's kinda neat

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lonelychicago · 1 year ago

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tagged by the lovely @wikiangela (it's not tuesday for me yet but tomorrow ill be gone all day so im posting now bc why not ksjsjd)

here are some previous snippets: one, two and three and if you interact with this post here, you'll get tagged whenever i publish the fic <333

anyway, more from the witness protection au! 💌

"So, what's your favorite color?"

Eddie turns around, looking at Buck bemusedly. "What?"

"We're married, I guess? I should know some stuff about you."

"And you thought you'd ask about my favorite color?" Eddie turns back to the pancakes— Buck thinks maybe they smell a little burned but he doesn't dare to point that out.

"You can tell a lot about a person by their favorite color." "Like what?" Eddie asks without turning back to face him.

"I don't know." Buck rolls his eyes and lets out an exasperated breath through his nose. "Like, if you say black it's technically a color and that is your favorite, you're probably a psychopath. Or depressed."

Eddie snorts.

"Okay, maybe you can't know a lot about a person by their favorite color." Buck huffs out a weak laugh and leaves the apple to rest on the center of the table. "Still, humor me."

"Mhmm, I don't know." Buck sees the muscle of Eddie's back move under his shirt as he gives a half-hearted shrug. "I guess, blue? I haven't really thought about what my favorite color is."

"Oh, okay. Good to know my husband is boring."

"Your husband just made you breakfast. So, you're welcome."

Buck looks at the pancakes warily— The edges are really, really burned, so bad that they're black and the rest of the pancakes are a dark shade of golden, bordering on brown.

Buck raises an eyebrow at Eddie as his gaze darts back and forth from the man to the food and vice versa.

"Buck, they're fine."

"Are you sure about that, Eddie?"

"Just eat the damn pancakes, man."

and for the people who tagged me on inspiration saturday, here's a moodboard <33

tagging (no pressure): @monsterrae1 @buddierights @cowboy-buddie @cowboy-buck @eddiebabygirldiaz @jeeyuns @transbuck @forthewolves @jesuisici33 @thewolvesof1998 @eddiediaztho @exhuastedpigeon @prettyboybuckley @rogerzsteven @the-likesofus @spotsandsocks @spaceprincessem @911-on-abc @ladydorian05 @daffi-990 @hippolotamus @giddyupbuck @disasterbuckdiaz @thosetwofirefighters @messyhairdiaz @honestlydarkprincess @bigfootsmom @athenagranted @diazblunt @911onabc @housewifebuck @bekkachaos and anyone else who wants to do it!

#witness protection au #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buck x eddie #buddie #buddie fic #buddie wip #my wips #my writing #911 fic #911 wip #911 abc #911 on abc

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hotluncheddie · 1 year ago

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New anon here... I've been thinking about the government shoving Eddie into witness protection without letting him say goodbye to the rest of the group, which is a real bummer Steddie-wise because they were definitely headed towards something. So Eddie is like, in the suburbs of Chicago or somewhere under the new name Nathan Edwards or something, gets a slave wage job at a Scoops Ahoy, and proceeds to eat his feelings.

A couple years later, Steve is passing through the area, sees the Scoops, and thinks what the hell, he's doing pretty well for himself these days at whatever "fuck you dad I can make it on my own" career he ended up choosing, he can go in and tip some fresh outta high school kid the way he'd always appreciated back in his Starcourt days. And wow, the guy behind the counter definitely isn't a teenager, but he does look familiar...

:0 anon!!!!!

i’m hoping by saying he eats his feeling in the ice cream shop that we’re on the same page here… (bc oof 🥴👹)

but ugh witness protection is so sad omg but big hurt/comfort possibilities maybe i think i think

they make them leave straight out of the hospital, him and wayne and one box of stuff each. they give them new names, a new place, set wayne up with a new job. but it’s not the same, nothing is, never will be. eddie has to cut his hair, thankfully not a buzz cut but he hasn’t had his curls sit above his ears in years. it’s the thing that makes his feel most strange, he thinks - not recognising himself in the mirror.

recovering physically took a long time, mentally, just as long. but eventually he needs to be around people again, needs money, a routine. the scoops job started as kind of a joke and then he realised it was the place he applied with the easiest commute and the owner was a really chill dude at the interview and then it really wasn’t a joke anymore. eddie worked a scoops ahoy. the pay is whatever but the work is fine and with wayne’s wage they more than get by and while it’s boring, it also kind of feels like breathing room, time to slow down and learn about himself again, after everything.

after a while eddie is actually kind of digging the sailor outfit, gives him an excuse to be kind of silly and get away with way more with customers that he should. like you can’t really get mad at him, not dressed like that, not when he still gets the orders right. it feels like a character, he’s the bard, the jester, and one day he’ll break free but for now - he enjoys the free icecream.

it started small, employees are allowed one item in break and he usually went for a soda, then that changed to a milkshake or a cone. and then one night he was closing and it was right by wayne’s birthday and there was a quarter of a tub set to be thrown out. and, well, eddie thought, why not take it home?

then the new monthly schedule comes out and since most of the part timers are younger and he has his (new) van it’s got him set to closing alone most shifts. fine by him, one hour of pay where he can blast his walkman while he cleans, best case scenario even.

he was also in charge of making sure the tubs were correctly filled ready for the openers and that meant throwing out the near empty ones. so near empty that that kid in eddie seems to rear up and remind him of all those times they couldn’t afford icecream, why let it go to waste? he always did have a sweet tooth.

so most nights his routine after work is to get home, have dinner with wayne, get high, watch some tv or read or listen to music and most notably polish off whatever ice cream and ‘only just out of date so still definitely good’ toppings he’s managed to squirrel home.

that last bit is notable because it’s been a year of working there, just under a year of this new routine, and eddie’s had to size up his once baggy uniform.

he’s kept definition in his legs and arms since his job is running around and scooping frozen shit. but now he’s padded with a layer of chub and his stomach is padded with a lot more than that, having bared the brunt. his cheeks have also rounded and his thighs and ass are honestly looking better than ever.

and with everything so new that’s been forced on him, this new at least feels like his. he knows how it happened, he’s not dumb, and yeah sometimes he ate just to wallow but he enjoyed every fucking bite of that ice-cream. and yeah he knows the red stripes that streak up his sides and push agains the waistband of his shorts aren’t everyone’s idea of desirable but, this is him now. everything else in his life is new, may as well have a new body to go with it. and to be honest he finally feels like he’s recognising himself in the mirror now. this new guy he’s had to become, there are ways that it’s still his.

but god does he miss everyone. not a day goes by he doesn’t think of home, his friends, his life, the people he almost died with. steve. so every night he gets high and eats ice cream and feels his belly swell that little bit more. sometimes he cries, sometimes he laughs but he’s alive and he has wayne and they’re safe. so every night he eats icecream.

steve moves to chicago with robin. he’s in school to be a physical therapist, robin studying italian. they moved just outside the city because it’s cheaper, a nice little neighbourhood. hes getting by, he works at a gym and helps with some of the classes, it’s decent pay and fun and he’s getting more and more days where that darkness feels far away, his rain cloud isn’t so thick. he’s doing it, surviving. living, even.

but, every day he misses eddie munson.

he’s out jogging when he spots it, taken a new route and made it to a strip of stores he didn’t know were there. with a scoops ahoy. just like summer of ‘83.

he laughs.

for old times sake and knowing robin will get a kick out of it he head in inside. thinks the 20 in his sock is more than enough to have spare for a tip that should brighten whatever kid is working the counter. surely they don’t still have the same unifo- nope, they do, and the guy at the counter looks much closer to steve’s age than the high schooler he expected. he’s cute. big eyes, nice hands.

eddie’s frozen. there’s a spectre in his store. steve’s staring at him. eddie’s stares at steve. eddie’s suddenly filled with anxious energy, unsure how to process what’s in front of him. tugs at his shirt out of habit, smooths the fabric down over the plush of his stomach, readjusts his hat that doesn’t need readjusting, bounces on his toes. what the fuck.

and eddie sees that steve doesn’t quite recognise him with his rounder features and shorter hair. he can’t wear his rings to work (they’re different, gold but still chunky) and, obviously steve’s never seen him dressed like this, also probably never imagined eddie would have a belly like that.

the second thing that registers in eddie, after the initial shock, is feeling his stomach drop out in fear. for wayne. for their place. for his job… for steve.

he doesn’t remember what the rules were about contact with his past. but he’s pretty sure there were rules on it.

but then something flickers across steve’s face, a flash of lightning, and he’s moving, leaning across the counter and enveloping eddie in a hug. ‘oh thank god.’ eddie hears steve breathe, strained and relieved and so full of emotion eddie feels his throat close and his eyes burn. steve’s here. eddie squeezes back and breaths deep, he smells like sweat and hairspray and home.

his steve is here.

and all eddie can do is cling back.

they’ll have to figure something out. he can’t let go of this again.

#anon this was so good #i loved it so much #the brain worm u gave me ugh #i’m giving u a #MWAH!#hotlunch #steddie #steve x eddie #chubby eddie munson #hurt/comfort #ask #chubby!eddie munson #steddie wg #witness protection wg au

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