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Snow Over Hawkins

A/N: Another holiday fic? From me, after not posting in months? Who would've thought. I hope you all have a wonderful holiday or simply a peaceful winter! Thank you for reading! This jumps between 1996 and 1986 (the events of S4). Reader does celebrate Christmas in this and there is a lot of Christmas imagery. Also, I make Eddie a rockstar. Because it is what he deserves. :)

Pairing: Eddie Munson/F!Reader

Rating: PG-A soft little, melodramatic thing

Word Count: 10.4k

Summary: Perhaps coming to your ten year high school reunion was a mistake. But, as a blizzard rolls in just in time for the holidays, you may have to confront a specter from your past: Eddie Munson.

**1996**

Oh no.

There were too many people. Maybe if you just…turned right around and left, no one would know you had even come and-

A shout of your name quickly quashed that plan but your shoulders fell a fraction from around your ears as you spotted Robin weaving her way through the crowd to get to you. She was quick to throw her arms around you in a tight hug as if she hadn’t just seen you when she dropped you off at the hotel an hour ago and you two didn’t have a standing agreement to get together every two weeks at the little café down the street from your apartment in New York.

“God. Why did we come here?” She mumbled into your hair before pulling back.

“You were the one who said we should rub it in everyone’s faces that we are rich and successful and they peaked in high school.”

Robin groaned. “Must you remember everything I said?”

“I must.” You sighed and glanced over her shoulder at the milling crowd. The gigantic Christmas trees were bleeding green and red lights all over the large space. The event center for the reunion was an abject holiday wonderland, complete with fake flickering candles and artificial snow. Christmas songs were playing over the speakers, muted beneath the conversation between old classmates. Even the sign that read, “Welcome back, Tigers! Class of ‘86!” was made of red and green paper. “Nancy said she and Jonathan would be here, too. Have you seen them? Their flight left before ours.”

“Not yet. But you know who I have seen?” There was a conspiratorial gleam in her eye that had you frowning.

Before she could answer, someone darted by you with a squealed, “oh my god, I can’t believe it! I thought they were on tour!”

Your heart dropped to your feet. “Robin-”

“Nothing has to happen. He just happens to be in the same room as you for the first time in over ten years and-”

“And it changes nothing. He’s still…” The words trailed off as you dropped your chin to your chest. Robin rubbed a hand on your arm with a hum, she was always tactile with you, knowing when you most needed a friendly touch. “Pathetic, right? Ten years and thousands of miles and he still makes me feel like a little girl with an unreciprocated crush.”

“It has always been more than that.”

You winced. “That doesn’t help, Robs.”

She linked her arm with yours and started tugging you toward the table set up with hot chocolate and all the fixings, dodging a hulking pair of men in ill-fitting suits who you were sure never went to Hawkins High. Someone had been “kind” enough to leave little bottles of alcohol in a messy pile, too, so anyone could spike their own drink if wanted.

A glance back at the crowd nearly had your heart stuttering, already bruised. A headful of dark curls and warm eyes immediately caught your attention and suddenly you were a teenager again. Turning your head away felt like a herculean effort and you reached for one of the small bottles of whiskey and dumped it into your cup.

**1986**

Your head was spinning. There were monsters in Hawkins. …or not in Hawkins, but in a different dimension that you were currently trapped in. Running the school paper with Nancy was supposed to be a safe extracurricular activity—something to bolster your applications to your dream university. But after watching Fred fucking

levitate

and hearing his bones snap under the power of something unseen, you were sure it was one of the worst decisions you’d ever made. And now you were here after jumping out of the boat, your hand in Nancy’s. At least now you know why Robin and Steve had been extra cagey about the mall fire over the summer.

“You’re bleeding a bit,” Eddie said, crouching near you as you huddled beneath Skull Rock.

“What?” Your voice was hoarse from all the screaming you’d just done, arms aching from beating the damn bat creatures with a broken oar.

Eddie said nothing as he tore at his shirt and then pressed it to your temple, wincing alongside you. “Sorry, sorry. Just didn’t think you’d want a bleeding head wound in a place like this.”

You almost snorted. And it was probably the head wound and the adrenaline coursing through your system but your tongue didn’t tangle as it so often did around Eddie. “Oh? You come here often?”

Eddie’s cheeks bloomed with color, visible even under the grime. “Oh, c’mon. Can’t have a pretty girl bleeding.”

**1996**

“Gimme a sip of that,” Nancy said instead of a greeting as she stormed to your side. She took a hearty swig of your spiked hot chocolate and nearly spat it out. “What did you put in that?”

“Whiskey.”

“Jesus!” She wiped at her mouth, eyes watering.

Jonathan was a few paces behind her, wrapping his arms around you in a quick hug before doing the same to Robin. “Seems to be quite the turnout even with the storm rolling in.”

“Imagine if we all get snowed in. Trapped with all these people,” Robin said, dread dripping from every syllable.

“I’ll walk back to my parents’ house in the snow. I don’t care,” Nancy said, only relaxing when Jonathan stepped to her back and wrapped an arm over her shoulders.

“Tough day?”

“My editor called and said he wanted a rewrite by midnight for this article-”

“You got it done,” Jonathan quietly murmured.

“But I shouldn’t’ve had to do it at all! No one else’s articles get that kind of treatment. Goddamn Greg can write a puff piece about when to watch the cherry blossoms in each borough and use the wrong ‘there’ but he doesn’t even get a sternly worded email.”

You and Robin wore matching winces and hid behind your hot chocolate. “Didn’t you say The Economist was trying to poach you after your big editorial about that governor?”

Nancy nodded and sunk a little further into Jonathan’s grip. Her engagement ring sparkled in the twinkling lights. Their long-awaited engagement party just a few blocks from your apartment had been hosted a handful of months ago where you’d readily accepted Nancy’s invitation to be a bridesmaid. It certainly took them long enough. “And I’m considering it. But we’d have to move to London.”

Another twittering laugh drew all of your attentions and you saw Eddie stand and wrap and arm around someone you vaguely recognized as someone from the debate team as another person took a picture, the flash of their disposable camera nearly blinding even across the room.

Nancy’s blue eyes quickly zeroed in on you. “Have you talked to him?”

“No. He’s surrounded. Has been all night. I don’t want to be…that girl, anyway. Probably doesn’t even remember me.”

**1986**

“Look, I’m all for you, like, actually telling Eddie how you feel but maybe you could think of a more romantic setting for all this?” Robin nearly hissed as you continued on through the rotted forest of the Upside Down.

“What are you talking about?”

“You are making googly eyes at him—and he’s reciprocating! That guy hasn’t taken his eyes off you once since you beat that bat to death.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s what really gets him going, Robs. Sure. Keep your voice down!” You grumbled in return, trying to ignore the heat in your chest.

You’d had a crush on Eddie since last year when you were paired up in History for your final project. Your sessions in the school library had become the highlight of your week pretty quickly after you realized how kind and funny he was, how brown his eyes were, and how they really sparkled whenever he spoke of something he was passionate about (which was never history, but you would let it slide because you loved his smile). You didn’t even mind that he gently teased you about your favorite song, Flaco’s “Rock Me Amadeus” and promised to “teach you about real music.” After passing the final project with flying colors, Eddie had gifted you a mixtape with a shy smile and pink cheeks “Just to say ‘thanks,’ you know, for helping me pass. I might not graduate this year, but I don’t have to repeat this class again and that was all because of you. But here’s your first lesson on real music, Amadeus.” Before you could say anything, he kissed your cheek and turned away, letting you get swallowed by the moving bodies of the hallway. And Robin, who you’d befriended while working at the mall over the summer (you worked at the lingerie store right next to Scoops Ahoy) had been your first confidante about your feelings. Steve, bless him, had guessed correctly after you came into the ice cream shop moping one Wednesday after you’d watched Eddie flirt with the bartender (again) at The Hideout during a Corroded Coffin gig. And then he was offering his “advice,” too, and telling you that your secret was safe with him, even if he didn’t really understand your feelings for “The Freak.” At all.

The feelings that hadn’t faded for over a year.

Steve and Robin hadn’t judged you, as so many others would, and you had earned Robin’s secret in return, an easy friendship blossoming right before the mall burnt down. As your senior year started and you once again found yourself at Eddie’s side more often than not in the hallways and shared classes and your easy comradery with the three-peat senior developed into inside jokes and more mixtapes disguised as ‘lessons,’ Robin and Steve had always encouraged you to at least try. And you never did. You’d rather have him as a friend than nothing at all. And he was…he was your friend. A good friend who always smiled at you from the stage at The Hideout, who seemed to actually do his homework when you jokingly said you wouldn’t hug him anymore, who always made you smile when you had a shit day. Confiding in each other about your shitty parents (his were felons, yours were drug addicts) and then being raised by others had been another thing that bonded you. You had your aging grandparents and Eddie had Wayne but you both knew that it was different. Always. He’d hold your hand when you cried about feeling like you were missing something and you always told he’d amount to more than his parents when he struggled, too. You were there for each other in ways your other friends couldn’t understand. And that almost made it worse.

“All I’m saying is that he is obviously into you. Like a lot. But maybe wait until we aren’t in the sixth circle of hell to act on it.”

“This isn’t the sixth circle…this would be, like, the tenth. I think.”

Robin smacked the back of her hand into your arm with a pointed look “You’re avoiding the topic.”

“I’m avoiding nothing except these stupid vines!”

Eddie jogged to your side with a tired smile. “Hey, think we’re getting close to the Wheeler house?”

You nodded and glanced ahead where Nancy was leading the way, ignoring how Robin pinched at your side. A quiet shout of Robin’s name had you all turning and Steve was waving her back to his side and she darted away, leaving you alone with Eddie. Heat bloomed in your chest as he smiled at you, as it always did. A comforting warmth like settling in front of a roaring fireplace on a cold winter’s night.

Eddie knocked his shoulder into yours as you all continued on, another smile on his face. Only Eddie would be able to smile in a place like this. “You know, I’m glad you’re here with me in all of this.”

And now you had to smile, too, despite everything. “In the Upside Down?”

He blushed and stuttered something unintelligible before knocking his shoulder into yours again, pulling a quiet laugh from you. “Yeah, next time we have to fight monsters, I’ll make sure we’re at Enzo’s.”

“It’s a date.” As soon as the words left your mouth, you wanted to shove them back down your throat. Dammit. “I mean, you know, not a date, but yeah, we can keep fighting monsters together.” You winced at your messy jumble of words. Great. “I’m…For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here with me, too.”

**1996**

“What do you mean you didn’t listen to any of their music?” Robin asked, taking your hot chocolate away from you.

“I tried! But then he started singing about this person’s pretty eyes and wanting them to leave lipstick stains on his throat and I turned it off.” You sounded like a petulant child but you couldn’t help it. Hearing about how Eddie wanted something like that with someone who obviously wasn’t you hurt. It ached like a dull knife twisting between your ribs. The years hadn’t lessened the pain at all.

Robin and Nancy looked at each other, some silent communication that had you gritting your teeth. And then Jonathan patted your shoulder like you were some sort of idiot. “You really should have listened to it.”

“It wouldn’t change anything,” you muttered. “It has been ten years. Look at him.” Waving a hand at the ever growing crowd around Eddie, you tried to ignore the burn of tears at the back of your eyes. “He is a rock star. How many Grammy’s does he have?” (You knew he had two.)

Despite avoiding listening to any of his music, you had watched his meteoric rise to fame with a bittersweet happiness. It was what he deserved after everything. Being accused and then cleared of murder actually seemed to bolster his image as a rock god and helped Corroded Coffin land their first record deal. There was always a quip about it in every magazine or gossip rag that interviewed him or ran an article with his face at the center. It was part of his “mystique” as one journalist called it.

And the town that had always hated him now celebrated his success as their own. There were former football players and cheerleaders waiting their turn to get his autograph or take a picture with him, arm slung over his shoulder as if they were old friends. As if they hadn’t tried to hunt him down after Jason fucking Carver branded him a vessel for Satan. The lights caught on his hair, shining and soft, and a little shorter than it had been in school. Red then green then red again. Still so handsome. Even more so now, with a bit of stubble lining his jaw. He’d always be handsome, wouldn’t he?

Just as Bing Crosby started to croon, a woman with an orange tan stepped onto the small stage and tapped the microphone. “Hi everyone! My name is Tina-”

“We’d never forget you, Tina!” Someone shouted from the middle of the crowd.

She laughed and the microphone protested, screeching with feedback for a moment. “Well, as head of the Hawkins Alumni association, I welcome you all back to Hawkins. Can you believe it’s been ten years?”

As she prattled on, you and your friends grabbed seats at a table toward the back. She started to go through a slideshow of pictures from your senior year, taking an overly dramatic pause “in remembrance” for “Jason’s” victims and everyone else who died or was injured during the earthquake. Nancy’s foot knocked into yours beneath the table and you both rolled your eyes as Tina wiped a tear from her eye. Then, to your horror, she clicked onto the next slide that was a picture of you, holding Eddie’s leather jacket, exiting the hospital covered in bruises and blood and the grime of the Upside Down and patched up like a terrible pantomime of healthcare.

“But we have always been a class of survivors!” She continued on, speaking about the “tragedies” that befell Hawkins as if she knew anything about them. It was all a dull roar in your ears as she clicked through a few more pictures of the town being rebuilt. She’d just glossed over one of the worst days of your life as if it was nothing. Just another picture for her welcome speech.

“I need some air.”

Nancy squeezed your arm as you stood, slipping out of the room without a look back.

**1986**

You handed Dustin his nail-riddled shield and watched him and Eddie pretend to block invisible enemies, laughing with each other. You wanted to join in. Wanted to laugh and revel in being alive a little longer but the sinking feeling in your gut kept you from doing anything other than continuing to batter nails in through a trashcan lid and hope it would be enough.

Would it be enough?

Even if you all lived through this, would the alibi you and Nancy cooked up to cover for Eddie be enough? It was already set in motion when the police had questioned you after Fred’s death and you made no mention of Eddie, but would they believe you?

“Hey.”

You looked up, fingers curled painfully around the hammer, to see Eddie standing in front of you. The dying sunlight framed him, casting an ethereal glow around him and piercing your chest. Beautiful.

He moved to sit on the carton beside you, knee bumping yours as he swiveled toward you. “Gonna tell me what’s going on in that beautiful brain of yours, Amadeus, or should I guess?”

Despite everything, you felt your lips curling up the slightest bit at the sound of the ridiculous nickname. “Guess.”

He hummed, stroking his chin with a dramatic flair. “You’re wondering if I have any weed on me and the answer is yes.” Then he pulled a (decidedly damp) baggie from the pocket of his jacket and dropped it onto your lap. “I wouldn’t smoke that though. I’m not entirely sure what lake water and…those spore things have done to it.”

You tossed the bag back to him and he almost caught it. “Try again.”

And so, he tried again and again, his guesses getting more ridiculous as the time passed until you were giggling, heart a little lighter and the final shield finished.

“Would the fair maiden take pity on her poor jester and tell him what made her so sad?” He asked, his warm hand curling over your knee and squeezing twice.

Tears stung your eyes as you shook your head. “Just worried, ‘s all. Worried about Max. Worried about Robin. Worried about Nancy. Worried about Dustin. Worried about Lucas. Worried about Steve. The only person I’m not worried about is Erica—she’s going to rule the world one day, I know it.”

“Worried about me?”

And that just about broke you. “’Course I’m worried about you, Eddie. I’m always worried about you. Even without Jason and Vecna looming over everything, of course I worry about you.”

He squeezed at your knee again until you looked at him and then he was reaching out to cup your face, thumbs gently swiping against the slope of your cheeks. “Always, huh?” His grip didn’t falter even as you nodded. “Well, it sounds like you have enough to worry about, don’t need to add me to your list.”

“Eddie-”

“Hey.” Gently, he angled your face up so he could look at you properly, dark eyes staring into yours. “I promise you, I’m going to be fine. And you are, too. All of us are getting out of this.”

“Promise?” You whispered, the syllables cracking in your throat as your shaking hand covered his.

Eddie leaned forward to press his forehead to yours, your eyes fluttering shut. “I promise.”

**1996**

One look out the window let you know that this snowstorm was probably one for the history books. Giant white flakes were falling in a rush from the dark sky, already sticking to the sidewalks and hazing the light of the lampposts. The outdoor Christmas trees just a few feet outside the window were nearly covered, too, the snow making their lights glow like candles. It was pretty. Sure, you’d grown accustomed to the holidays in New York, but snow in Hawkins during the holidays? Almost nothing could beat it.

Nat King Cole’s voice echoed down the hall, providing a soft melody to the quiet moment, and nearly had your wounded heart calming. Nearly.

The door opening behind you pulled a sigh from your throat, expecting to hear one of your friends call out to you. Instead you heard a loud giggle and the tapping of heels against the linoleum tiles, steps unsteady and uneven. Nancy knew how to sprint in heels and Robin didn’t own anything other than sneakers and brightly colored flats so it wasn’t them-

“-can’t believe how she just got up and left!”

“I know! So rude!”

While obviously drunk, the women who probably called you names in high school for being a little socially awkward and not having the newest clothes, were not high on your list of potential “catch-ups.”

God. Why did you even come here? All the people you wanted to keep in touch with from high school, you already did. You had a small group of them in New York and you had scheduled phone calls with Steve and the kids, too. You didn’t need to come here. You definitely should not have.

But it didn’t matter now anyway. As the voices grew louder, you skittered further down the hall and wrenched open the nearest door and all but threw yourself inside, leaving the door open just enough to let a bit of light in, waiting to hear the women pass. You nearly stepped onto a tangle garland as you slunk into the shadows. The closet was filled with extra decorations. Stockings, wreaths, and tangled bundles of lights lined the shelves and had you flinching as something snapped beneath your shoe.

“Oh, but did you see Eddie?” One of the women asked. You immediately hated her tone. It sounded like something you’d accidentally come across late at night, when a few of the channels played more risqué films.

“How could I miss him?” There was a strange noise, it almost sounded like groan. Was it supposed to be a moan? “If I had known he’d be a rock star and looked like that, I wouldn’t have called him a freak in high school.”

“Oh, shut up Carol, yes you would’ve! Probably just not to his face!”

Their answering cackles echoed down the hall and you grimaced behind the door—the one small victory was that they seemed to be walking away from you, rather than toward. Still, you didn’t understand how people could still be so needlessly cruel. Eddie had always been handsome. Always. And he’d never been a freak. He just liked his roleplaying game and making his music. Sure, he was outspoken and a little abrasive to some…but he was a good man. He had always been a good man.

And those women obviously learned nothing from how they’d treated him in high school.

Your forehead knocked against the door as you continued to hold it barely open, and you tried to suck in a steadying breath. You never should have come. Even without talking to him, Eddie was still looming like some sort of Ghost of Christmas Past.

You sounded pathetic, didn’t you? It had been ten years since you’d parted ways and lived separate lives. You were one of the curators up at the Met in New York; your dream job in a vibrant city. You were paid well and had an ironclad support system with your friends. But Eddie still ached, a pain with a beautiful face. Wasn’t it time you moved on?

Yes. It had to be. (But how many times had you told yourself that?)

Straightening your shoulders, you moved to open the door only to have the knob ripped out of your hand as the door was thrown open and then you were all but shoved into a stack of wreaths and the door shut with a sharp snap.

“Jesus!” You nearly shouted, scrambling to stay upright in the dark and only mildly succeeding, your palm slapping against a shelf and toppling a neat stack of ribbons.

“Oh shit. Sorry!” A familiar voice answered and your heart leapt.

In the dim light of the closet, you recognized the curls and the soft cut of his jaw. “Eddie?”

**1986**

“Don’t try to be cute.” Steve’s warning only made you roll your eyes, pushing at him to rejoin Nancy and Robin.

“You’re the one who managed to accessorize before going into battle, Harrington. You’re cute enough for the both of us.”

Steve huffed and tugged at your wrist to press a hard kiss to your forehead. “Take care of Dustin, okay? Take care of both of them.”

“I will. Take care of my girls, too.”

“Hey, Steve?” You both turned at the sound of Eddie’s voice to see him take a few steps forward, mouth set in a firm line. “Make him pay.”

Steve nodded, intentions clear. But, just before he turned back toward Nancy and Robin, he reached for you again. “Tell him. Tell him and fight like hell so you can actually do something about it.”

And god…you wanted to scoff, tell him that now as definitely not the time for confessions of any kind. You were trying to stay alive! But you couldn’t scoff. Couldn’t roll your eyes. All you could do was tap at his chest with a grimace you hoped looked like a smile. “Stay safe, Steve. Come back. All of you. We’ll see you on the other side.”

Then, he was jogging back to the others while you turned to see Eddie and Dustin waiting for you. And their hopeful smiles were a knife between your ribs. “Let’s get this started, okay?” You said, clapping your hands together. As you busied yourself with trying to fortify the Upside Down version of the Munson trailer, you tried to tell yourself that this was going to be fine. Everything was going to be fine. In a few hours, you could walk into the police station, clear Eddie’s name and no one would realize how close you all came to apocalypse.

But it didn’t feel right. Didn’t feel…safe.

“Hey…”

You nearly jumped out of your skin when a warm hand closed over yours, halting your attempt to screw in a bit of sheet metal over a window. Your next breath wheezed out of you as you looked into Eddie’s molten brown eyes. “Eddie.”

“You okay?”

“I’m, yeah, I’m fine. As fine as we can be, about to provide an absolutely insane distraction so our friends can kill an interdimensional super villain. Yeah. Fine.”

Eddie stepped a bit closer, gentle hands sliding up your arms to cup around the back of your neck, pulling you closer to rest his forehead against yours again. “I made you a promise, didn’t I? We are going to be fine.”

You could tell him right now. Just open your mouth and say it. But the words turned to molasses at the back of your throat and you could only nod, tugging at the bottom of his vest and zipping it up properly.

“C’mon, sweetheart. We’ve got a concert to play.”

**1996**

“What’re you doing in a closet?”

“What are you doing in a closet?” You quickly retorted, embarrassed heat starting to curl around your throat.

“If I had to take one more picture with someone who called me a freak in high school, I might actually set something on fire.”

You laughed, clapping your hands over your mouth before the noise could truly escape. “Jesus, sorry. I thought you…were doing well.”

“I just needed a break.” You could hear the exhaustion dripping from each letter. “Gimme a crowded stadium any day over that.”

Before you could do anything else, you were nearly knocked onto your ass by Eddie abruptly turning and throwing his arms out, fingers dragging against the wall in search of something. “What’re you doing?”

“I need a light. I want to talk to you in the light—need to see your face.”

Oh, the heat was nearly suffocating now. He could still make you feel like a teenager. When it seemed he wouldn’t be finding the switch, you went to open the door and then felt your heart drop to your toes. “Eddie.”

“What, Amadeus?”

Despite the smile you felt pressing at your lips, muscle memory and Eddie’s ineffable charm slotting between your ribs like a missing piece of a puzzle, dread pricked at the back of your mind. For good reason. “I think we’re locked in.”

Eddie was quiet for a moment before his warm, guitar-string-roughened hand closed over yours as it continued to jiggle the door knob and then he tried, too. “Shit.”

“Shit,” you agreed.

“J-just hang on.” He stepped back and you heard him rummaging blindly in the dark before twinkling white light nearly blinded you. Somehow, he’d found a strand of Christmas lights and an outlet, illuminating the cramped closet in their butter yellow light. “There we go,” Eddie said, sounding more than a little pleased with himself. He stood straight, still holding the bundle of lights like something precious. His dark brown eyes reflected the soft light, almost making them sparkle.

And your poor heart could scarcely handle it.

“God, Amadeus. It’s been too long.” He moved forward like he wanted to do something else, maybe hug you, but stopped short.

Your smile faded as you glanced down to the cluttered floor beneath your shoes. “Yeah, um, ten years or so. B-but you’ve done well for yourself, Mister Rock Star.”

Eddie’s cheeks bloomed with color but he did not look away. “You listened to my music?”

If the world could open up and swallow you whole, you would appreciate it. But apparently Hawkins had had enough of earthquakes and you were forced to tell Eddie the truth, your feet on solid ground, in a small closet filled with Christmas light. “I…I couldn’t.”

His smile wavered. “Oh.”

“I-it isn’t that I think you make bad music. I actually quite like it! It…it is just…” God. Stupid. So stupid.

“You still prefer your pop nonsense, yeah?” Eddie drawled, dropping the bundle of lights onto a shelf.

“I mean, yeah, but tha-that isn’t what I’m trying to say!” You turned away from him, trying not to hate yourself more. You missed the days when you could talk to him easily. You missed the early days after everything blew over and the gates were finally closed and you’d talk for hours on the phone after you settled at NYU, trying to keep each other up-to-date on the happenings in your lives. They’d been a highlight of your week, dashing to the phone in your dorm at exactly six o’clock to make sure you’d never miss the call. But the calls had dwindled after Corroded Coffin’s first single topped the charts. You tried not to feel rejected when he missed more and more calls. But the nail in the metaphorical coffin had been when Wayne, good and sweet Wayne, had picked up the phone and told you, gently, that Eddie was going on tour and wouldn’t be back again. You received a postcard here and there after you graduated from university, from different cities around the globe where Corroded Coffin was touring. The ink would be smudged and faded by the time it got to you, but you kept all of them just the same. Pressing your fingers against the messy handwriting, stilted letters saying he missed you, as if that would be enough. And it never was. And then those stopped, too. He’d left you behind.

“You just have it all, Eddie. And I don’t know how you ever...” The words trailed off and you shook your head. None of this mattered now. He’d moved on. You were a ghost to him, too. Fruitlessly, you tried to open the door again with the same result: you were still locked in. And then the closet was too small, too warm all at once. The handle jiggled uselessly in your grasp. Were the walls inching closer? Had the lights caught fire? “Can you open this lock?”

“Just because I can hotwire a car, doesn’t mean I can pick a lock, Amadeus.” There was almost a hint of a tease in his tone. Almost. “Must’ve missed that lesson.”

You nodded, eyes trained on the unopened door. “Right. Sorry.” You needed to be let out. Needed to run far, far away before you made a complete ass of yourself.

“Good to know what you think of me.”

You turned abruptly, nearly falling—again—as you reached for him with uncoordinated fingers. “That isn’t what I’m saying, Eddie! I…” The words were sticky toffee at the back of your tongue. Unmovable and hard. “I…”

“Why didn’t you listen to my music?”

**1986**

Everything had gone wrong in a matter of moments. You had watched, heart in your throat, as Eddie played his heart out—you recognized the song. It had been on the tape he’d given you just last week.

Lesson 17

was scrawled across the shell’s spine alongside a smudged demon. Eddie had been glorious and every inch a rock star and the plan had worked and it still all went to shit.

The bats were coming too fast. There were too many of them. You and Eddie all but shoved Dustin up the knotted rope and then Eddie made sure you went up next. But then he had the stupid, beautiful, tragic idea that he needed to be a hero. He was already a hero. Had always been a hero. But he still cut the rope as you and Dustin yelled and pleaded for him to stop.

He didn’t.

Then you were dragging the small table near the door under the gate and leaping leaping leaping until you could grab at the edge and haul yourself up and through. The world swam in front of your eyes as your skull bounced on the dirty floor but you still got to your feet and rushed out with a scream of Eddie’s name. Bats swarmed in the distance, too preoccupied with something else in the distance—and you knew exactly what it was…or who.

The first bat nearly took you off your feet with a screech, tail looping around your ankle. But you pushed forward, even as another tore at your neck and another burrowed between your jacket and your shirt and ripped through the fabric like a red-hot knife through butter. But you only saw Eddie. You continued to push through until you could fling yourself over his prone form. The serrated teeth of the demobats continued to try to devour you both as you tucked Eddie’s face into your neck and hope it was enough. Even in your scrambled state, you tried to keep the important parts covered.

And you hoped.

Because that was all you could do aside from scream.

Blood coated the back of your throat, either from the force of your screams or from the blow to the face you’d taken earlier. But it didn’t matter when you heard the bats suddenly go silent before falling to the ground in a terrible downpour. The last one hit the ground with a splat and you were surging to your knees to look Eddie over.

“C-can you stand for me?” You asked as you knelt beside him, already shoving your hands beneath his shoulders.

Eddie struggled for a moment, blood-caked teeth gritting, before falling back to the ground. “Just…give me a minute.”

This was not good. Not good. Even if the bats dying meant that the plan might’ve worked, Eddie was still… You shifted, putting his head in your lap as you pressed down against the larger of the bites on his chest, feeling his blood soak your skin immediately. “Take all the time you need, okay? I’m not…I’m not leaving without you.”

Eddie made a noise. It almost sounded like a laugh. “Was just trying to buy more time.” Each word had his chest heaving.

“You were trying to be a hero, Eddie,” you almost scolded. “You didn’t need to do that. Y-you were already a hero. You already helped.” Tears started to blur your vision but you blinked them back, trying to keep him in your sight even as the strange spores, the bastardized Upside Down version of snow, started to coat you both. You wouldn’t take your eyes away from him. Not now. “Silly boy.” You pulled him a little closer, trying to ignore how slick your hands felt, pressing tighter against whatever you could reach. “You made me a promise, Eddie,” you whispered. “You promised.”

“I know.” The words were garbled. Wet. Teeth stained red. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

The tears stung and burned but you didn’t have the energy to will them away this time. He could feel it, too. “Dust-Dustin’s on his way. He can help. And Steve an-and Nancy and Robin. They’ll be here soon, too.”

Eddie nodded and you could feel his next breath stutter and stall beneath your hands. “I’m…I’m glad it’s you with me.”

“Eddie. Don’t. Don’t talk like that,” you pleaded, voice cracking. Your vision blurred even as you pressed tighter, crimson bleeding across white. You just needed him to hold on a little longer. Just a little longer. You could help him get better if you just had a little more time. “You’re going to be fine. You have to flip off Higgins, remember?”

“Y-yeah, Amadeus. I remember.” He sighed and his dark eyes found yours through your tears. “But at the end of the world? I’m glad I get to see it with you.”

“We can see everything together. Okay? Anything you want, we can go see it together.”

He nodded and then a shaking, bloody finger reached up to barely graze against your neck before falling back down to the ground. “You’re hurt.”

The adrenaline was keeping most of it at bay, you were sure. The bats had done a number on you. But right now? Right now it didn’t matter. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” Eddie’s mouth opened, some retort on his tongue but all that came out was a wet wheeze and you felt his heartbeat stutter beneath your palm. “Eddie, no, Eddie, no, no, no. You gotta stay with me, okay? Stay with me!” You pressed harder at his chest and looked out to the grey horizon, hoping to see your friends, hoping to see some sort of salvation. “Help me,” you screamed. “Help!”

But all you saw was the strange snow.

**1996**

It was a simple enough question, wasn’t it? Why didn’t you listen to his music? Maybe now really was the time to move on. Your hand slipped from the doorknob and you crossed your arms over your chest as if that would protect you or offer comfort. Bing Crosby was singing now, muffled behind the door.

“You are a rock star, Eddie. I always knew you’d make it. Always. You were destined to be one of the good ones, one of the greats. Do you remember me bribing the guy at The Hideout just to let me in because I was underage? I just wanted to listen to you play. I wanted to see you the happiest I’ve ever seen you. I sang every song. I studied every mixtape you gave me like my life depended on it. And then you…made it. You made it, Eddie. And you left me behind.”

Eddie’s face fell, all traces of anger draining away in a second. He murmured your name.

But you weren’t done. “And I told myself that it was okay. It was okay because I just wanted you to be happy. And I thought I could, I don’t know, move on or something. I got my dream job. I live in the best city in the world. I have good friends and my grandparents finally got out of this shitty town and are living it up in Albuquerque.” You hadn’t even realized you were crying until Eddie reached out to you, gentle yet roughened fingers pressing at your cheeks to catch your tears. And your poor heart stuttered at the simple touch. How long had it been since he’d touched you like that? “And I heard about your adventures through Jonathan or Steve. Nancy even did an editorial on your band the first time you headlined at Madison Square Garden, remember that? But you never asked for me. Never reached out.”

“That’s not fair,” he said, still holding you close. His voice was low but strained, like he wanted to pull away but couldn’t force himself to do so, as if his fingertips had seared themselves to you. “You could’ve asked any of them for my number, my address, anything-”

“You were the one who stopped taking my calls, Eddie.” The simple sentence was ripped from your throat between sobs, over a decade finally cracking open. “And then you were singing about girls leaving lipstick stains on your throat and it would never be me. Never me no matter how much I loved you.”

Eddie’s face twisted and something you didn’t understand flittered across his face, something almost like heartbreak. Something almost like betrayal. Something almost like self-loathing. “You think I don’t-”

And then the door opened.

**1986**

Hawkins had been ripped open. While Vecna had been killed by Nancy and Eleven, he’d made one last ditch effort to bring the Upside Down to your world and had cracked open three gates; earthquakes shattering the small town.

Max’s knee was broken and she’d need physical therapy to walk normally again.

Lucas had a concussion from his showdown with Jason.

Steve needed a skin graft.

You were finally able to pull the three dozen stitches out of your skin after a few weeks but the doctor’s harried voice had echoed cruelly in your mind, “if that cut had been any deeper, you would’ve been dead in seconds.” Comforting. You’d been all but shoved onto a hospital bed and rubbed down with alcohol pads before dozens of stitches were sewn through your skin and you were told to leave to make room for others. The hospital had been a mad house when you’d stepped out into the hall, filled to bursting with people needing attention, battered and bruised and bleeding.

But it had been okay. It had been okay because your little ragtag team of friends had won and Eddie was alive and he gave you a slow, sleepy smile as you slipped into his room. “Hey, Amadeus.” He didn’t seem to care about the handcuff chaining him to the bed.

It didn’t last long, anyway. Your and Nancy’s alibi, Jason’s mysterious disappearance, his goons’ ramblings about seeing Max lift into the air, coupled with the well-timed reappearance of Chief Hopper helped the town begrudgingly accept that Eddie was innocent. There were still whispers, of course. Some thought that Eddie used his “satanic powers” to possess Jason into killing Chrissy, Fred, and Patrick, but you made it no mind after the cuff around his wrist was removed and you sat in his room, waiting for him to wake up between surgeries. You passed the time by doing the take home work your teachers had given you with the promise that if it was completed, it would take the place of any final exams and you’d graduate with no problems. Then, when that was finished, you did Eddie’s stack, too. You met his Uncle Wayne and he gave you a small smile when you introduced yourself, like he knew something you didn’t. He had been the one to give you Eddie’s jacket, saying he knew you’d keep it safe, on the first night at the hospital.

“He’s gonna be mad when he learns you did all that for ‘im.”

You shrugged and took the proffered hot chocolate he got for you at the hospital cafeteria. “He can be mad at me all the way across the graduation stage.”

“He did say you were a stubborn, sweet thing.”

The pencil nearly fell from between your fingers and you gaped up at Wayne before looking at Eddie at the bed, looking healthier by the day and just out of his third surgery. “He said that?”

Wayne only gave you that same, secretive smile. It was the same smile he gave you as Eddie dragged you over to take a picture, your green graduation caps and gowns shining in the summer sunlight. Your grandparents were close behind, each brandishing a camera and telling you to smile. It was redundant as you hadn’t stopped giggling since Eddie flipped off Higgins, as he’d promised. But, just as Wayne raised his camera, Eddie pressed a kiss to your cheek and knocked the breath out of your lungs.

“That’s a framer,” your grandfather said, clapping Wayne on the back and inviting them to a celebratory lunch.

Their acceptance was on the tip of their tongues—you knew it—but a man in a dark suit loomed at your side and drew everyone’s attention. “Edward Munson?”

Questions upon questions ricocheted in your mind. Who was this man? Was Eddie in trouble? What-?

He held out a small card with a smile, looking at Eddie over the rim of his probably-expensive sunglasses. “I’ve heard good things about you and your band.”

**1996**

The two hulking figures you’d spotted earlier were crowding the doorway and all but pushed you aside to reach for Eddie. You stumbled, elbow knocking against one of the shelves and pain rippled up your arm with a hiss. “Jesus.”

Eddie was quick to grab at your other arm, trying to keep you stable and you hated how you liked how warm he felt, even through the thick bulk of your sweater. “Guys, c’mon, be carefu-”

But they paid you no mind. “The party’s over, boss. You can get your dick wet later. We gotta get out of here before…” The rest of the sentence was drowned out in the scuffle as he was yanked out of the closet and into the surprisingly busy hallway. Elvis was warbling about a Blue Christmas but you barely heard it over the bustle of everyone leaving in a rush. You blindly stepped out into the hall, feeling like someone had stuffed rumpled tissue between your ears. The entire world felt off kilter as someone ran by you, knocking into your shoulder. What was Eddie going to say? Why had finally telling him how you felt leave you aching?

A hand wrapping around your arm pulled you from your reverie and you looked up to see Steve Harrington giving you a familiar, soft smile. “Time to go, sweetheart. The others are waiting.” He quickly explained that Robin called him, asking him to pick them all up after all the taxis (not that there were many in Hawkins) had refused to take them anywhere in the storm.

As soon as the others reached your and Steve’s side, a feat considering the mad rush toward the door, he was all but shepherding you out to the startlingly white parking lot, the snow now up to the middle of your calves. Robin claimed the passenger seat, leaving you, Jonathan, and Nancy to squish into the back seat. The others chattered about how ridiculous the reunion was as you all waited your turn in the long line to exit the parking lot, more than a few cars already sliding or getting stuck in the snow. Steve was patient enough. You knew their conversation was mostly just to pass the time, to let you know they wouldn’t pry (yet), giving you an escape. You gave an anecdote or two, making them laugh when you mentioned how drunk everyone seemed to be. Steve nearly beamed as you commented on how nice the car seat digging into your leg was. “I read, like, six different books about what the best car seat was! The little lady loves it,” he said, using the nickname he was fond of for his daughter.

Robin was the first to be dropped off, after chattering about her PhD program, giving you all awkward hugs from her seat so you wouldn’t have to get out into the cold. She suggested that you all go to Paris the next time a reunion comes around, “you know, so I don’t want to contemplate murder again,” before scrambling out of the car and into her parents’ house. The snow had nearly blotted out the simple line of Christmas lights along the roof, but still shined through in twinkling greens and reds. You took her seat with a sigh, crawling over the center console as Steve shouted about seatbelts, sounding like the mom you knew him to be. Nancy leaned forward to press a quick kiss to your cheek as soon as Steve slowed to a careful stop in front of their hotel—they’d told you, repeatedly, that they were not about to stay at either of their family’s houses for the holiday, no matter how much they loved them. Jonathan squeezed your arm and the pair murmured their thanks to Steve and they reaffirmed the plans to get together with all the kids at the Byers-Hopper house tomorrow, weather permitting, for the party you knew had been planned for months.

That left you alone with Steve and it took exactly forty-two seconds for him to ask, “so, you and Eddie in a closet, huh?”

“It-it wasn’t as salacious as you’re thinking, Steve. We both went in there to hide—separately, you know—and then the door somehow got locked and it was just a…fucking mess.” Slowly, an embarrassed heat pooling in your neck, you told him everything about how you’d finally, pathetically, told Eddie what you’d felt for over a decade.

Fat, white flakes continued their downward parade and the windshield wipers provided a steady beat to your disjointed story until you fell back into your seat, drained and tired. You could spot a few Christmas trees lit up behind half-closed curtains, their decorations a festive break against the growing snow. You frowned as Steve clicked off the radio, Wham’s Christmas earbug suddenly halting. He leaned over and grabbed something from the glovebox.

“Steve?”

He popped a tape shell open and pushed it into the tape deck before tossing the shell onto your lap. You turned it over to see a familiar album cover—it was Corroded Coffin’s latest album. Will Byers had been the one to draw the artwork, filled with bats and broken guitars. “Just listen, okay?” Steve asked, hand on the volume dial.

It wasn’t as if you had a choice, was it? But maybe it was time to finally do it, another way to close the chapter. So, you nodded, and Steve cranked the dial as soon as he fast-forwarded enough to the song he wanted.

The music started low and then quickly roared with heavy guitar and bass and an incessant drumbeat. It was all Eddie. It was Eddie. It was all Eddie and your fingers almost hurt as you clutched the little plastic case. The lyrics were good, and you could imagine this song getting your stuck in your head for weeks, painting a story about the a looming apocalypse, something you knew well. Then, Eddie’s voice came through, clear as day with the chorus, “at the end of the world, I’m glad it’s you…”

Oh.

Shaking fingers pressed to your mouth as the song continued on, filled with lyrics about blood and darkness and looming death…and the saving touch of someone’s hand.

“I’m glad it’s you…”

You flipped the case over and cursed the tears that blurred your vision as soon as you spotted the name of the song. The only song it could be.

Amadeus, at the End of the World

It was for you. But then Steve ejected the tape and put another in before you could truly let it sink in, a million and one thoughts coursing through your mind.

“Remember when you held me close with bloodstained hands?” Eddie sang on another song.

“Remember when you kept me breathing?”

When that song finished, Steve switched to a different track.

“Who worries over you, my girl?”

“Let me be the one to feel your heartbeat…”

And then he switched to another tape, never taking his eyes off the road.

Through raucous rifts and a bassline you could feel rattling your bones, Eddie sang, “you’re sunlight sweet and I’m your freak-Just give me your lips!”

Steve clicked off the radio as the song ended and you wiped fruitlessly at your cheeks; the tears had started during the first song and hadn’t stopped. “I’m so dumb.”

“You both are,” Steve agreed with a smile. He even patted your arm in consolation. “He asked about you all the time and then swore us to secrecy about it. He kept saying that if you wanted to reach out, you would have.”

You sniffled, the burn of the bright snow blurring. “I didn’t have his number. I don’t even know where he lives.” There was a small mess of tapes and their shell cases in your lap by the time turned the Christmas music back on and you fiddled with each of them, as if the pieces of plastic would let you turn back time and make different choices.

“Don’t worry about that,” Steve said with a conspiratorial smile.

It was only then that you realized you weren’t anywhere near the hotel where you were staying. “Steve?” You were clear across town, actually, near the newer developments and high end houses that had been built after the earthquake and property prices had plummeted. Now, years later, you were told that these houses were easily worth over half a million dollars. Each were spaced out, with plenty of land, with brick and mortar mailboxes near the street.

“Just trust me.” He pulled down one of the long driveways and parked in front of a tasteful, craftsman-style home. Sparkling white lights were looped around the porch’s banisters and bloomed soft light across the growing snow. The large bay window near the front door had its curtains opens and a large tree was at its center, decorated with ornaments that looked homemade and adorable. But that wasn’t what caught your eye.

It was Eddie, adjusting the sparkling tree-topper as he chatted with someone you couldn’t see.

“He has a house here?” You asked, feeling even more stupid.

He shook his head. “He bought this place for his uncle after their first album won him that Grammy. Apparently, Wayne was almost too proud to accept it. But you know how stubborn Eddie can be.” He turned to you and gently squeezed your arm, comforting. “Go in,” Steve said. “I can come pick you up, if needed.”

You sniffled and nodded, giving him a watery thank you and another promise to see him tomorrow for the party, before climbing out, the tapes still in your hands. The snow crunched beneath your shoes and you nearly stumbled at the top step of the porch but continued on until you knocked at the front door. Your cheeks were cold but at least your tears had stopped. You must look a mess. But there was no turning back now. The door swung open a few moments later and Wayne stood in front of you, eyebrows pinched. As soon as he recognized you, he was quick to grab at your arm and urge you inside with a murmured, “now what’re you doin’ outside in this kinda weather?” Familiar affection dripped from each word. The door shut with a soft snap behind you. The inside of the house was beautiful and warm; a wall filled with hats and mugs almost had you tearing up again. Eddie must have never stopped buying him those for every birthday, Father’s Day, and Christmas. One of Burl Ives’ Christmas albums was playing on the record player in the corner and two mugs of hot chocolate were set on the table near the tree, steam curling above.

“I…” You rubbed at the end of your cold nose, jostling the tapes in your hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude-”

A smile started to push at Wayne’s face as he noticed what you were carrying and then glanced at something behind you. “Well, you know I’ve always been happy to see you. But I don’t think you’re here for me.” He waved a hand and you turned to see Eddie a few paces away. The light from the Christmas tree was behind him, making his curls and waves nearly glow. His dark eyes darted down to the jumble of tapes in your hands and then he looked back up at you.

“Can we talk?” You asked.

“‘Course we can, Amadeus.” Gently, he took your hand and pulled you into the living room. A handful of presents were under the tree and two stockings were hung over the roaring fireplace. Wayne, bless him, shut the door quietly and made himself scarce.

You sat on the edge of an overstuffed leather couch and Eddie settled beside you. One by one, he took the tapes out of your grip and set them on the cushion beside you before reaching out to curl one of his hands over yours. His thumb brushed over your knuckles softly, the simple touch making you shiver.

“Eddie, I…” You shook your head. “I’m so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you, ever. I-I just-”

His gentle grip tightened a fraction. “I think we both have been a little less than stellar at this.”

You laughed, a low raspy thing. Your other hand folded over his and you tried to keep your heart from lodging itself in your throat. “Did you mean all of it? All that stuff you sang?” Eddie moved a little closer on the couch and his knee knocked into yours. “Every word.”

“It’s been over ten years, Eddie,” you whispered, not moving your gaze away from his face. His dark eyes reflected the lights on the tree and you almost wanted to cry again. He’d always been so handsome.

Eddie raised your joined hands to press a kiss to your fingers and your poor heart hammered behind your ribs. “It’s always been you, Amadeus. It will always be you.”

You sniffled and winced but didn’t pull away. “God, I’ve cried too much today.”

Eddie, gentle as ever, dropped your hands to grasp your face and wipe your tears away. “I’ve never wanted to make you cry.”

You shook your head and sighed. “And I never wanted to hurt you, either. Those songs…god, all those songs, Eddie. They were beautiful.”

“Not your pop nonsense,” he teased, thumbs smoothing against the half-moons of skin beneath your eye. “But you like them?”

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I really did.” You paused, licking your lips. Now or never. And you didn’t want to wait another ten years. “I love you Eddie.”

He chuckled, low and soft and your heart jumped. “I know, Amadeus. You told me in the closet.”

A terrible, familiar heat burned at your throat and you went to pull away but Eddie’s grip tightened just enough to keep you still. ��Eddie-”

“And I have loved you since you sat next to me in history class, humming that awful song. And I will write you another six hundred songs if it meant you finally believe me.”

He loved you.

He had always loved you.

“We certainly wasted enough time, didn’t we?”

He smiled and it’s as bright as the lights on the tree, near blinding. Heart stopping. Perfect. Then, slowly, he leaned and brushed his lips against yours. Finally, finally, finally. He tasted like peppermint chocolates and smoke. And it was fucking perfect.

**1997**

It was snowing again. The weatherman said to expect another six inches before dawn and for the roads to be a nightmare for a few hours, too, before the plows were able to clear everything up. But you didn’t mind. You adjusted the star atop your Christmas tree right before a familiar pair of arms looped around your waist. Lips skimmed up the back of your neck until you were giggling and squirming in his grip.

“We’re gonna be snowed in, sweetheart. Just you and me for days. Maybe even a week.”

You swatted at his hand with a laugh, loosening his hold just enough for you to turn around and sponge a kiss to his jaw with a hum. “Nice try, big shot. There’s no getting out of Nancy and Jonathan’s wedding tomorrow. It’s just up the street. We can walk.”

Eddie groaned, melodramatic, and pressed a lingering kiss to your temple. “Remind me why we have to go?”

“I am a bridesmaid and you are a groomsman. There’s also going to be lots of fancy food and all of our favorite people are already in town and will be there, too. You promised Nancy that you’d keep Dustin in check. You know how he gets about weddings.”

He sighed and you bit back a smile, knowing he was teasing. “I’m not convinced.”

So, you leaned closer and pressed another kiss against his jaw, and then another and another until you made your way up to his lips and steal a kiss there, too. Eddie chased your mouth to kiss you again, smiling against your lips. “And, my bridesmaid dress is really fucking sexy. If you’re good-”

“I’m always good,” he whined, halfheartedly pinching at your side just to make you squeak.

“-I’ll let you peel me out of it as soon as Nancy and Jonathan leave the reception. Deal?” You squealed as Eddie suddenly dove for your neck, kissing at the scar over your pulse. You sagged in his grip and moved to kiss the matching scar on his neck, too. It was a strange routine you’d settled into by accident. A gentle reminder of what you’d come through. Together.

“But what about tonight?” He whispered into your cheek, the beginnings of a smile pressing into your skin.

“Well, tonight…” You started to tug him away from the tree with a smile and toward your shared bedroom down the hall.

(Eddie’s plan worked. You hadn’t spotted the small box he’d hidden in the branches of the Christmas tree. He’d waited over ten years to finally call you his. He could wait a few days more.)

A/N: Please let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #eddie munson #female reader

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n0wornever · 4 years ago

Text

Big Reputation - Luke Patterson x Reader

Can u do a luke x reader where luke pretends to be a bad student (helps with his rockstar reputation) but is actually really good at school subjects. The reader has been having trouble in a class and luke is recruited by the teacher to tutor her?

I LOVE THIS IDEA I’M SQUEALING, THANKS ANON, I hope you like it!

“Y/N, I’m sorry...there isn’t much else I can do to help you dear,” Ms. Clementine said, staring up at the girl with wide eyes. “All my tutoring sessions are booked up for the next week or so, but I will try to definitely get you in the next time around?”

The girl nodded, sliding her test with bright red F spilled across the top back into her hands. She had failed another math test and she was certain that her mother was going to go ballistic as soon as she walked in the door and showed her the most recent mark she’d received. She really did try to focus this time, but her brain couldn’t seem to calculate the formulas correctly no matter how hard she tried.

“The good news is, is that we still have several other homework assignments and three more tests coming up, you have a lot of time to make up your grade.”

Y/N tried to gather her burgeoning negative thoughts as she forced a smile onto her face. She held the paper to her chest as she paced quickly toward the door. As her eyes turned toward the open hallway, her path was blurred by a vision in all black.

She recognized the boy in front of her, Luke Patterson. His band had recently made their big break and opened for a late night show at The Orpheum and ever since, the school had been buzzing about the band members. He was in three of her classes, and although he seemed very charismatic on stage, he sat pretty still in class. She did take note that his posse was absent from this course, and they were rarely ever seen away from each other. Her eyes fell to the rings resting against his knuckles that were pinched in a soft fist and his chain that rattled against his black cargo pants before her view shifted to his face.

Luke studied her with cautious eyes, his lips pulled straight across in an emotionless gaze. She quickly pointed her attention back toward the door and started walking faster. As she finally hit the open doorframe, a voice called her back inside the room.

“Y/N, wait just a moment please.”

She spun around on her heels, eyes falling on the teacher’s beckoning hand. She walked slowly up to her desk, keeping her distance from the brooding student that stood to her left. Ms. Clementine pointed at Luke with a smile before addressing her again.

“Y/N, you know my star student Luke Patterson... right?”

Star student? She questioned internally. It wasn’t that she had ever thought that Luke was dumb. She took notice to how quickly he finished exams and how often people asked to be paired with him for group work, but she assumed it was always to schmooze him for tickets to the next Sunset Curve show, not to raise their grades. Luke’s lyrics were always ripe with rebellion, so the idea of the eyeliner-clad, angst-driven teen being anything more that sticking to the status quo in terms of high school academia.

The older woman pointed between the two students, that knowing grin still laid on her face.

“I have an idea that may help both of you,” She said as she tapped her pen against the wood desk below her.

“Y/N you do need help with raising your grades...”

Y/N shifted her weight to her other foot as she listened to her teacher talk, refusing to make eye contact with the boy she could already feel staring at her.

“And Patterson over here needs a stellar recommendation letter to get into that ivy league program.”

The girl’s eyes shifted over to him, his falling toward the window. Ivy league? She wasn’t even sure that Luke would go to college with the band taking off. Y/N’s eyes fell onto the reddish hue that took over the boy’s neck as he continued to refrain from making eye contact. Y/N looked back over at her teacher, who shook her head at the boy before shifting her eyes back to the girl.

“So I think that it would be a perfect plan for both you and for Luke here,” The boy’s eyes fell back toward the conversation at hand. “Is for him to be your new tutor!”

Luke opened his mouth seemingly to protest, but Ms. Clementine placed her hand up, silencing him.

“Luke, I would be able to writing a glowing review of the extra time that you took to help a fellow student, and Y/N here could pass my class with flying colors with your assistance!” The woman clapped her hands in glee as she spoke.

Y/N’s gaze crawled over to him again. His eyes were firmly planted on the floor with his fists now tightly wound at his sides. The room went silent for a moment as neither student replied. Y/N looked back over to her teacher with pleading eyes and the older woman turned to the boy. As she was about to speak, Luke’s head perked up and he nodded.

“Are you free at 3 on Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays?”

The girl swallowed hard, unable to formulate her next thought. Instead, she simply nodded in his direction. His gaze swirled around her face for a moment before her gave her a quick smile. If she would have blinked, she’d probably had missed it. But it’s quick presence still sizzled enough to warm her cheeks.

“Cool, I’ll meet you at the library then, starting today.”

With that he stuck his hands in his pockets and moved toward his desk. Y/N turned to the right to thank her teacher before scurrying out of the classroom. Her brain started spiraling the moment she entered the crowded hallway, her eyes searching for her best friend Grace.

She saw the girl leaning against the stairwell in front of her, scrolling through her phone. Y/N practically ran to her friend, almost taking her down to the ground as she grabbed the girl’s arms as she reached her. Grace looked at her wide-eyed with a smirk on the left side of her face sliding forward at the nervous state Y/N presented back to her, hands. shaking at her sides as she released her grip on her.

“What is up with you, incredible hulk,” Grace asked, rubbing up and down on her arms.

Y/N pulled her into the less rowdy side hallway in a huff. The girl pulled her taller friend behind her, leading her to the outdoor plaza in the middle of the school, Grace giggling as she trailed along. As they made it to their final destination, she leaned against the window as she crossed her arms at her chest, waiting for her best friend’s urgent answer. Y/N took a second to catch her breath before talking.

“I,” She took in breath of fresh air, pointing a finger toward her awaiting friend. “Ms. Clementine assigned a new tutor to me to help with my grades.”

Grace rolled her eyes “That’s what all this fuss is about?”

Y/N shook her head, leaning next to her friend. She turned to face her with wide eyes.

“My tutor is, Luke Patterson.”

Grace’s mouth gaped open, staring at the girl. She pushed off the wall and walked in front of her friend.

“You mean Sunset Curve’s Luke Patterson?” She tapped her finger against her chin. “Huh, I never took him for a scholar.”

“Me either,” Y/N whispered, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

“Why are you so nervous? You two barely know each other...” Grace asked with an eyebrow raised.

Y/N sighed loudly. She knew that she barely knew him, but that’s exactly what made it so nerve-wracking. She was okay hanging out one-on-one with people she knew quite well, but the second she was left alone with a stranger she froze like an icicle in the middle of December.

“Exactly Grace! I don’t know him, you remember the last time with that group project?”

Grace nodded, letting a little giggle escape her lips “You mean when you almost had a panic attack on Reggie’s kitchen floor because he asked you what you thought about the slideshow he created?”

“EXACTLY,” Y/N was shouting at this point, running her hands through her hair.

Grace looked at her friend with a sympathetic smile. She moved back over to the window to sit next to her, the girl’s head falling onto her shoulder.

“It will be okay love, you can text me at any moment you’re feeling anxious, and excuse yourself to the bathroom. I’ll stick around for an hour after school just to make sure you’re alright.”

Y/N took a deep breath, mumbling a thank you in her best friend’s direction and Grace placed a kiss on the girl’s head.

Y/N headed over to the library exactly five minutes before three. As she walked in, she waved at the librarian that often let Grace and her avoid the cafeteria by turning a blind eye as they ate their sandwiches in between the stacks. Finding an open spot by the window, she set her bookbag on top of the empty table. She took out her textbooks and sank down, finally let herself rest against the chair.

At exactly 3 p.m., he walked in. He met her gaze with wide eyes, shaking his head at her. She tilted her head to the side as she watched him speedwalk toward her. He grabbed her book off the table and tapped against the hardwood.

“Nope, too public, come on.”

She stood up and grabbed her bag, throwing it over her shoulder, rushing to keep up with him. She followed him down the narrow corridor toward the bathrooms. She furrowed her brows in confusion as Luke turned to her. He pointed at a door on the lefthand side and then stepped forward to push it open. The small stairwell led them down to the basement where a lot of the archived newspapers and anthologies were stored. Y/N could smell the books as soon as she entered the room, letting her eyes closed as she breathed in their scent.

Luke slammed her book down on the table near the film reading machine and smiled sheepishly at her. She moved toward the other side of the table and sat down without another word. Luke eased into the chair across from her, leaning his head against his fist resting on the table.

“Are you okay?” He asked softly.

She turned to meet his eyes, biting down on her bottom lip. “Is this where you kill me?”

Luke’s face broke out into a full smile at that point, unable to hold back the full-blown cackle that racked through his ribs. She watched as his head fell back as he laughed, letting a small smile fall onto her lips too. As he rose to meet her eyes again, the smile stayed.

“You’re funny, huh?”

When she didn’t answer, he spoke up again. “I don’t want people to getting the wrong idea.”

“What, that you’re a secret genius? How terrible!”

She shrugged, pursing her lips as her shoulders rose. Luke’s jaw locked as he looked at her for another moment, a smirk rising to the right side of his face.

The silence hung a bit too long and Y/N knew her cheeks were growing redder by the minute. She shifted her focus back to the textbook below her.

“So, where do you want to start?”

She forced her eyes to meet his again and his regular scowl was back in rotation. He placed his pencil behind his ear, looking off into the corner of the room for a moment before holding her gaze again.

“Next week’s quiz is the last one on chapter 9, so let’s start there.”

She nodded at him, flipping the book open and diverting her gaze to the pages of text. She heard his voice ask a question over her head.

“What’s the most difficult question for you on the last homework assignment?”

She chewed on her bottom lip, if she was honest, she’d say all of it. But she knew they only had an hour a day, three days a week. So she pulled out her marked up piece of notebook paper. She tried to hold it close to her to hide the red from his eyes, but she knew the marker ran through the paper. She gave in and laid the paper flat on the table, and pointed to the fourth problem in the first row.”

“Probably question D, I don’t even remember her talking about this ever??”

He leaned over her shoulder, looking at her paper. She tried not to think about the woodsy aroma of his cologne that wafted close to her as he did, trying to focus her attention the paper shaking in her hand.

“Ahhh no, that’s a tough one.”

He leaned back over to his side, pulled out his red folder and brought out the same worksheet. She watched as he looked over his work before turning to her again. He looked over to her paper and read over the equation she had written. Y/N let her eyes gaze over to the clock on the wall, not wanting to watch as he realized how terrible she really was at math.

“You literally made the tiniest mistake,” he said with a chuckle.

She turned her head and looked at him, his crooked smile directed right at her. She look of confusion fell into a pout as she tilted her head at him. He pointed down at the paper and walked her through the entire problem. As they reached the end, Y/N fell back into her chair with a groan.

“You’re literally telling me I just forgot to carry the 1?” She said as she nervously gnawed at the end of her pencil.

He squinted one eye as he braced for his next statement. “Afraid so, that seems to be the only issue with your process.”

She lifted her head to the ceiling, shaking it as she laughed angrily at herself. As her gaze fell back to the table, she saw him already looking at her with a strange look, his eyes were wide and the line across his forehead sat tensed.

“What?” She asked, letting her hands rest on the table.

“You’re a little too hard on yourself.”

That statement sent a shock through her system. His soft eyes and worried gaze was galaxies beyond what she expected Luke Patterson to be like. Her eyes fell to his hand where his fingers anxiously tapped against the table. He was waiting for her to respond. She pulled herself together, meeting his eyes again with a forced grin pulling at her lips.

“No, it’s just that....I’m just really bad at math.”

Luke peered over to her paper again and her heartbeat rose. She watched as he scanned all the bright little dots and checkmarks before returning his eyes back to her face.

“No, like a lot of this stuff is really easy to fix.” His hand moved to point at a problem. “You just get to about the middle and slip up a bit, which derails the final answer. Totally fixable, you’re on the right track.”

She shook her head at him “Why are you being so nice to me?”

He let out another laugh, eyes crinkling at the impact. “Did you expect me to be terribly mean?”

She paused for a moment, word vomit spilling out from her mouth without giving her a warning.

“Honestly? Yeah, a little bit.”

Luke brought his elbow up to the table, letting his cheek rest inside his hand. He let a small smile spread across his face as he looked at her, biting down on his bottom lip.

“I do love to prove people wrong, so I’m going to take your wide-eyed look of confusion as a compliment.”

She immediately dropped her gaze, giggling down at the table. She looked back up and his eyes were on the stacks, monitoring the collection of old papers that lined the shelves.

“You know, I don’t think it makes you less rock and roll to be good in school,” She finally said, her tone coming out in a soft whisper. “You don’t need to hide in the basement of the library.”

His gaze pointed back at her and she immediately stiffened. She had pushed too far, she thought as she looked at his pensive face. But a smile fell onto his cheeks quickly after, sending a sigh of relief though her.

“You’re probably right,” He admitted, leaning back in his chair. “But I’m not necessarily hiding anymore with you here.”

The left side of her mouth rose as she held his gaze. The two sat in silence, staring dreamily at one another for a moment. Finally Luke broke the silence by clearing his throat and looking at toward her worksheet again.

“Ready to try another one?”

She let her eyes fall on his side profile for a moment before responding.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

She waited to hear that chuckle again before looking down at the paper in front of her again.

Tag list: @xplrreylo @lovesanimals , @anythingandeverythingfandom , @crybabyddl @themaddies-obx , @lukeys-giggle , @bumbleberry-pie @kiss-themoongoodbye @marinettepotterandplagg , @lolychu , @bathtimejish , @dasexydevitt13 @musicconversedance , @txrii @bestdressedandstressed @daisiesforlacey @epikskool @bookfrog247 @carleywhittaker @princessvader15 @rudysbay @spooky-season-bitch @kcd15 @meangirlsx @itz-jas @parkeret @writerinlearning @calamitykaty @whatever-happens-imma-stand-tall @teenwaywardasgardian @dream-a-little-bigger-x @tenaciousperfectionunknown

#luke patterson #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson imagine #luke patterson fanfiction #jatp #julie and the phantoms

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candychronicles · 4 years ago

Text

bodyguard // s. todoroki

A/N: my take on the rockstar/band/performer au for bnharem! i’m not a big fan of au’s normally but this one was a lot of fun to write! todoroki is definitely ooc in this one but i took a lot of liberties with his character in order to better fit the au storyline.

CHARACTER PAIRING: Todoroki Shouto x F!Reader

WORD COUNT: 5,091

WARNINGS: mentions of blood, gore, fighting, death, oral sex (f!receiving)

SYNOPSIS: you were in it for the money, he was an unhinged popstar. how could you two ever possibly get along?

want to read more rocking stories? click HERE !

the days at work were tiring, the nights even longer, but the pay was good and it was always satisfying to make a grown man cry as you knocked him to his knees and manhandled him away from your client.

Todoroki Shouto, one of the elite, the famed, the rich, and absolutely fucking annoying. sure, he was hot (anyone with an eye could see that) but he was just like everyone else in his industry: a cocky bastard. you didn’t mind his lifestyle too much except when it interfered with his job, like having to pry off whiny people who clung to him like their life depended on it, and for some, it probably did.

his biggest claim to fame was being in a now wildly famous band, namely the main singer. he was charming with a sultry voice and a personality that oozed confidence but he wasn’t always that way. in fact, he was originally a shy, anxiety ridden teen when he first joined, not sure how to use his voice or deal with people coming up to him in the streets. the life he lived was sheltered before that, training under his dad to take over the family business, but when sweet, innocent Todoroki confessed that he much rather be artsy and sing at the age of sixteen, things quickly changed for him. his father, Todoroki Enji, tried to convince him otherwise, told him that he didn’t know how the real world worked and that he would never be successful, but Shouto wouldn’t budge and eventually Enji caved in, or so it seemed.

Enji immediately enrolled Shouto in lessons, instructing him to shape up or ship out. if he couldn’t become successful in the industry, he would take over his father’s business instead, but that didn’t happen. Shouto excelled in lessons, blowing his instructors away with his timbre and control. he was a natural, and frankly, good enough to be a star. they weren’t so concerned with his stoic yet endearing personality. they had broken enough pop stars, molded them to be perfect model citizens, so what was one more?

the plan backfired immensely. as Shouto’s talent grew, Enji seeked out the biggest in the game, convincing them to give his son a chance at stardom. while reluctant, the board agreed, not wanting to piss off one of the most powerful men in Japan but were thoroughly surprised at the fact that his kid didn’t suck at all. in fact, he was actually good, really, really good.

they signed him immediately, whisking him away into the life of fame and fortune at the young age of seventeen. his range, the slight rasp to his tone and the ability to reach into somebody's soul and pluck the very feelings they try to hide so deeply from it’s depths pushed him towards the life of a rockstar. the freedom he had never been able to experience living at home pushed him over the edge and spiraled him out of control.

Todoroki drank, smoked, and fucked his way through cities big and small, getting himself into a lot of trouble along the way. the behavior went on for years, only getting worse as time went on. nobody seemed to be able to get control over the boy with the pretty hair and wild scar. after almost killing several women and one of his bandmates in a drunk driving accident, his team, label, and most importantly his father had enough.

the conversation between the two did not go well. Shouto was now an adult, legally free and clear from his father’s power. he had his own money, enough to live comfortably for awhile, even if he dropped the band, and all of the repressed rage, longing and anger that was pent up from his childhood. he was not stopping his lifestyle for anyone. that was, until you came along.

you were always a scrapper, getting yourself in trouble more times than you could count. it was just in your nature to defend those who couldn’t defend themselves and you spent many days on the playground beating up the bullies who picked on the sweet girl braiding flowers into her hair, or the boy who liked to play with baby dolls instead of trucks.

as you got older, your fights got fewer and farther in between, at least when it came to the public.

when you turned sixteen and kicked some kid who was trying to look up your skirt so hard in the chin that he saw stars, you were approached by a few men who slid you a card and told you if you wanted to make money fighting, come meet them.

you were a dumb kid and instead of running in the opposite direction and telling the police, you showed up at the seemingly dingy door behind the alley of a fairly run down ramen restaurant. knocking on the door and rocking back on your heels, you waited to see what would happen. it took a few seconds before a panel slid open, allowing you to see nothing but someone’s eyes peering at you in the mid-afternoon sun. hesitantly, you raised the business card in your hand, showing it to the person and jumping in surprise as the panel slammed shut and the door creaked open, inviting you in.

you nodded your head politely at who you realized was a rather bulky, burly man, before a woman dressed in a silky black dress plucked the card delicately from your hand and led you through the hallway. when she opened the door, you were taken aback by the scene.

people of all shapes and sizes stood cheering as two rather muscular men fought in an arena across the room. spit and blood flew across the floor as the two pummeled each other over and over again before one tapped out, the other man raising his fist in the air in victory. you stood, gaze fixed on the scene in front of you, blood racing at the thought of you being in the ring.

“addicting, isn’t it?” the woman whispered in your ear, a knowing smile on her face before she gently took you by the sleeve and guided you away from the screams and shouts into a private room that was much quieter.

you sat down in front of a man who was rather tall and thin, graying hair across his head and a clean shaven face.

“so, i heard you’re a good fighter. how good do you think you are?”

“uh-” you stuttered, not sure how to respond, “i think i can kick someone’s ass if i have a reason to.”

“is money a good enough reason for you?”

“money is a nice reward, yeah, yeah it is,” you confirmed, not pondering the question over for a second.

“good, you start on Saturday. come in comfy clothes that you won’t mind getting sweaty and dirty in. you’re my new ace, a secret weapon. give it six months time and you’ll be defeating guys like that out there in seconds.”

and defeat you did. over and over again, men, women, anyone who thought they were better than you were defeated by your own fists. you worked hard and then some, through literal sweat, blood and tears, to reach the status of champion of the underworld by the age of eighteen.

you were a wild card, unpredictable in your stature. you didn’t have hulking muscles and a sturdy frame, but what you did have was speed, the element of surprise, and the ability to calculate in a split second, all of which allowed you to defeat your enemies time and time again. this relative victory didn’t come without your share of sacrifices: hiding the bruises, blackened eyes and bloody lips from your family as you trained relentlessly, having to figure out a way to manage the steady flow of income that started coming your way as you fought in your first official matches, defeat after defeat as you trained, chipping a tooth and having it promptly filled in like nothing happened, having to learn how to disarm and fire a gun, work with knives and most importantly, losing a bit of your empathy along the way.

it came as no surprise when people who were much more powerful and much, much richer started taking an interest in you, placing large bets upon your head at some of the higher staked matches, a feat you worked your way up to after many years. you never failed to disappoint, knowing that these fights were the ones that mattered the most, the ones that brought you, and your boss, the biggest pools of money.

it was at one of these fights on a dreary, rainy night that you met Todoroki Enji, a hulking man that failed to intimidate you. you were used to people his size and bigger thinking he could take advantage of someone like you and it only made you chuckle thinking of how easy it would be to have him on his knees in seconds.

“i’ve made a proposal to your boss that he couldn’t refuse. he said he couldn’t and wouldn’t force you to do anything, but since you’re quite motivated by money, i think you’ll be intrigued by my offer,” he started, sitting down next to you in one of the VIP booths, sliding his business card on the table with a sly smile.

you were interested and entertained him, listening to him ramble about his shitty kid and his bad behavior. amused, you sipped on your drink as you absorbed his rants and whines about the negative reputation his kid was creating for himself, how he abused his freedom and power to the fullest extent and how his life was spiraling out of control.

“what does this have to do with me, exactly?” you finally questioned, setting your drink down and turning to face him, eyes met squarely with his own.

“i’d like to hire you to be his personal bodyguard.”

“sounds like he needs a babysitter, not a bodyguard,” you retorted, getting ready to stand up and move away from this blathering idiot.

when he spit out a number so outrageous, however, you sat back down, now thoroughly intrigued by the situation at hand. satisfied that he had your full attention, he went into details, laying down a fairly thin stack of papers in front of you as you listened to every detail.

“so let me get this straight. i’m to be his personal bodyguard, keep his shitty behavior a little more under control, whip him up into shape sort of situation. that’s it? and i’ll get paid that much for being a glorified babysitter?”

“you will have to protect him, of course. there are some crazy fans out there that climb windows, seduce themselves into his bed, stalk him, chase him down, but i don’t think it’s anything that, with your expertise, you can’t handle.”

you continued to ponder the situation before gesturing him to continue with his story. he rambled for another moment or two before picking up the papers and going over them with you: standard non-disclosure agreements, a detailed list of your job description and a contract agreement that he was subleasing you through your boss.

after a few minutes of reading the contracts over and discussing them with your boss, you agreed to the scenario, locking yourself into what would be a rather entertaining six months.

the first time you met Todoroki, he instantly tried to hit on you, but when his hand lowered down to grab your ass, you had him on his knees with his left hand behind his back before he could even blink. after that encounter, your conversations were curt. he knew what you were here for and he wasn’t about to let you get his way.

what he wasn’t expecting was for you to be so relaxed about the whole situation. he still drank, still partied, fucked almost whatever girl or guy he wanted, but anytime things got too out of hand, you stepped in, firm but gentle, guiding the crying groupies out of his bedroom after their time was over, driving him every time he got too drunk, cutting him off from any supplies when he was getting out of hand and most importantly, keeping him safe during his travels.

he never realized how much danger he was always in until you mitigated the problems with ease. he just assumed that being assaulted on the daily was something that came with being in the public until you broke some robbers finger when they tried to swipe the wallet out of his own back pocket. after that, he almost clung to you like a koala on a tree anytime he was out in public. you provided stability in a time where he was drowning in his own worries.

that didn’t mean he was ever nice to you though. in reality, he was actually sometimes meaner to you, the simple fact that some girl could be stronger than him set him off, always feeling on edge around you. you weren’t necessarily quiet, offering up any and all small bits and pieces about yourself that he ever wanted to know, but he never really knew you: not your last name, where you were from, if you had any siblings, parents, where you went to school, what your job was, who you were on the inside. it bugged him like crazy to know what your favorite color was and that you liked cheese on your ramen but not anything important, anything he wanted to know.

you liked to keep it that way, however, and would stay as friendly yet aloof as possible. this was a job to you, a job that would set you up easy for awhile and gave you a break from fighting for the most part. you wouldn’t admit to yourself that you liked the man more than you would’ve expected. you felt the way he clung to you as fans swarmed him, the way he always looked to you in reassurance as you walked the streets at night, hearing his sobs in the shower, sobs that were so broken and confused. it showed to you a side of him that was vulnerable, that showed emotion.

he broke down towards the end of your stay, realizing a little too late how much easier it was for you to do your job when he was cooperative and nice. in fact, he began to be more open about enjoying your company and spending time with you. it made it harder for you to continue with your job knowing you were falling for the pretty rich boy, for the man you were hired to protect, for the man who looked at you like you could do no wrong but vehemently would deny it. you began enjoying the little moments with him, the stolen glances, the laughing. you didn’t know what changed in him but you were glad he was someone you could get along with. underneath that crazy exterior, he was just a guy who wanted a friend.

your six months came up relatively quickly. it sucked that your cushy job living in five star hotels, eating decadent meals and working out in state of the art facilities would be over soon but you felt yourself getting lazy, weak and losing your rather sharp edge. it was time to get back into the grind and despite your heart panging at the fact that you would leave the pretty boy with the angry and sad heart behind, you were ready to go.

your last night of work consisted of the final show in Tokyo. tens of thousands of guests were set to attend what would be the bands biggest concert ever. you were calm, cool and collected as always, but the singer, not so much.

he spent the day pacing back and forth, warming up his vocals, hydrating himself, stretching and generally doing his best to calm his nerves.

in a rare act of affection, you reached out to grab your hand with his own, looking him dead in the eye and telling him that this night would be one he would remember forever; and you were right, just not for the way either of you thought.

the show went amazing, the crowd loud and receptive, the choreography flawless, the singing perfect. Todoroki ran off stage with the biggest smile he had ever seen and in his own rare display of affection, twirled you around with ease, adrenaline still pumping through his system.

you congratulated him on the great show and waited patiently for him to remove all the makeup and his costume. he emerged a little while later, hair flat against his head, wet from the shower, sweatpants and an inconspicuous gray hoodie donning his body. you bid a pleasant farewell to his bandmates before escorting him back to the car. he had requested that you drive him back to the hotel and spend one final night in the comfortable hotel beds before you headed back to your hometown.

when you arrived, however, things felt quiet, a little too quiet, and the hair stood up on the back of your neck.

“Shouto, you need to get into the driver’s seat right now, turn on the car and lock it. do not let me in until i tell you to. do not get out of the car, okay?”

he began to question you but before he had a chance to argue, you were pushing him out of the way as a knife sliced towards him, figures cloaked in black emerging from the shadows.

one, two, three, four.

you counted out the four assailants as you shoved Shouto against the car, prompting him to unlock and scramble in through the back seat. only when you heard the click of the lock did you breathe a sigh of relief and begin your attack.

the first man with the knife was tall and lanky, using his height to his advantage, trying to overwhelm you, but with a quick kick to the back of his kneecaps, he went tumbling onto his knees. now shorter than you, you were able to control him by grabbing onto the top of his head and slamming it into the ground, effectively knocking him out.

one, two, three.

the next man thought his muscles would save the day, but his size lacked any true speed, and you were able to land fingers to his eyes, a punch square to his nose. a quick chokehold and he was knocked out against the concrete as well.

one, two.

they both came at once, knives flailing in the air as they sliced your way. one managed to gouge out a chunk of flesh in your arm but you paid no mind, too focused on the task at hand as you grabbed the knife with your hand and used the other arm to knock into their elbow, making them loosen their grip enough to let go of the blade that you then embedded into their shoulder. the other assailant took your distraction to swing the knife your way and as you were trying to dodge the serrated edge, used their other fist to swing up into your chin. you felt your teeth chatter against each other, blood mixing with saliva as you bit your tongue. spitting, you slammed your hand down against their wrist, grabbing the knife with your hand and yanking, not caring that it sliced into your palm as you flipped the weapon around to shove it into their abdomen.

with both men distracted, you slammed your fist against the car door, telling Shouto to quickly unlock it so you could get in. when you heard the telltale click, you instantly dove into the backseat, yelling at him to lock it and drive as fast as he could back to the hotel. he did as he was told with an eerie calmness to him, backing out and around the attackers that were attempting to survey the damage that had been dealt to them.

once you had made the relatively quick trip back to the hotel, you hurriedly jumped out of the car, telling Shouto to carry his own bags so you could be on alert if anything were to happen, scanning each and every corner for a possible other attack. thankfully, everything was safe as you made your way into his hotel room.

you dropped him off quietly, not even attempting to walk into his room, but only fifteen minutes had passed before he was knocking on your door, a first aid kit he had gotten from the front desk securely tucked under his arm.

you let him in without a word, locking the door behind you and turning to face him. before you had a chance to ask what he was doing there, he had dragged you into your rather grandiose bathroom, sitting you on the steps leading up to the jacuzzi tub and pulling out the contents of the kit onto the floor.

he began by assessing the damage to your wounds, cleaning and disinfecting them before wrapping both your hand and arm rather efficiently.

“i had to wrap a lot of my own wounds as well as my siblings. dear old dad let the temper get the best of him sometimes and it wasn’t always so pretty,” he explained, teeth clenching together in an attempt to remain calm.

“thanks for this. i’m sure they’ll heal just fine,” you replied, not wanting to put him in a situation where he had to talk about his troubling past.

“you could’ve died protecting me today, you know?”

“that’s my job Todoroki. i was hired to protect you, i protected you, and i’m fine, thank you very much. this is not my first fight and it definitely won’t be my last.”

he sighed, rubbing his temples as he sat down on the marble floor in front of you, holding your wounded hand in his own, tracing the fabric that surrounded your palm.

“i recognized one of the cars in the parking lot. it was a company car, one of my dad’s cars to be precise. i know they can seem relatively inconspicuous but i memorized every car my dad ever had, big or small. it was definitely his car.”

you mulled over his words for a moment before sighing yourself, slumping against the stairs as your head rested against the rim of the tub.

“your dad sent those men, huh? that’s why you were so eerily calm driving away. you knew you weren’t really in any danger, that those men were secretly there to kill me,” you finally concluded, anger boiling deep within the pit of your stomach.

“yeah, i think they were. i don’t think dad is too fond of the fact that you and i got close. i-i like you a lot more than i let on, i’ve told him so. i thought that would make him happy, knowing i have someone in my life that i could rely on and trust, but he didn’t like the fact that he couldn’t control you after these six months were up, think he wanted to teach me a lesson.”

“wouldn’t be the first time i’ve had a hit out on my head. this one, however, is probably going to be a lot tricker to deal with.”

Shouto sunk deeper into himself, body shaking with rage as he saw the fight flash in his head over and over again.

“i’m going to protect you. if you want to, that is. i’ll sign you on as my own bodyguard, however much money you want. i’ll be by your side always, make sure that nobody tries to kill you, tries to hurt you like that again.”

“i can fend for myself Todoroki.”

“it’s Shouto. and why won’t you let anyone else take care of you? listen, i know i’ve been kind of an ass but i thought we were at least friends, and yet i know nothing about you. i know your favorite color, your favorite animal, that you like sunsets and the rain and snuggling under comfy sheets at the end of the day, that your eyes sparkle when you get a chance to fight but secretly crave peace and comfort, but i don’t know who you are. your name, your story, why you’re really here.”

you heaved as you sat back up, staring him straight in the eye to find no malice, no anger, only confusion, empathy and maybe even a bit of longing. so you told him, you told him everything: who you were, what you were, where you grew up, about your childhood dog and all the scraps you had as a kid, how two strange men in suits approached you and groomed you to fight at the age of sixteen, how it was the only thing you knew how to do, the only thing you were good at, how you scared yourself sometimes because you enjoyed the pain that came with the fights. he sat there watching, eyes wide and unblinking as he absorbed every word you said, every bit of pain and anxiety, of longing for someone to love and understand you, of not having to fight all the time, of wanting to be vulnerable for once.

“let me take care of you,” he declared, standing up and outstretching his hand towards you, helping you up from the cool tile, hand coming to rest behind your head once you had steadied yourself.

he leaned forward, unsure and hesitant, before placing his lips against your own, soft and gentle, tasting of mint chapstick and coffee. you were unsure of yourself, awkward, full of aches and pains, wanting so badly to let go but never wanting to get hurt.

“it’s okay, you’re safe with me. let me take care of you, please.”

that was all it took for you to open up, looping your arms around his neck as he led you back to the bedroom, careful to not run you into anything. your knees hit the back of the bed and you reflexively tensed up, like a deer in headlights.

he shushed you, rubbing his hands up and down your arms, heeding the bandage and wound underneath. you laid back after that, body attempting to relax as his hands ran themselves soothingly over your body, across your breasts, the flesh of your stomach, your thighs, the corded muscles in your calves, slipping your shoes off, your socks, kissing every inch of your body along the way, making sure you were comfortable. you shimmied out of your pants, your tight shirt, bra, underwear, finally bare for him to see, scars, bruises, all the imperfections of your life.

“so, so beautiful,” he murmured, taking his time to kiss every single blemish and scar that you had, wanting you to feel his dedication.

after what felt like hours of soft kisses, his thumb came to rest on your clit, rubbing in quick and precise circles, fingers gently parting your folds to press into your body, back arching at the feeling of him already.

“it’s all about you tonight, okay? just relax, let me show you how much i appreciate you.”

and appreciate you he did. he dropped to his knees, nose nuzzling into your pubic bone as he kitten licked your clit once, twice, three times, testing your reaction. you whined and squirmed at the feeling, already overwhelmed by his fingers lazily dragging in and out of you. you wanted, needed more, but Todoroki wouldn’t hear any of that. you deserved to be treated right, treated gently tonight, to allow your worries to melt away, if only for a few moments.

his fingers began picking up pace, pistoning in and out of you, his fingers curling in all the right spots, fists clenched into the downy comforter as you attempted to ground yourself from the overwhelming situation. his tongue worked against your clit, changing speed and pressure, trying to find what was the right combination to set you off, watching your every move intently as you squirmed around on the bed. before he even got a chance to get into a routine, you were already cumming over his fingers, creamy liquid coating the digits.

he hummed in contentment, pulling his fingers out to lick up the syrup, you watching with your pupils blown wide.

you went to sit up, body aching from the adrenaline of the fight, but he pushed you back down into the plush bed, tutting as he settled his head against your thigh, kissing, sucking and biting along the plump flesh, leaving little marks only he would know about.

his tongue began lapping at your clit again, this time harsher, more in tune with what your body wanted. you clenched your legs around his head, fisting his hair with your good hand as you tried to ground yourself yet again to reality. his velvety tongue felt like heaven against your body, coaxing moans and sighs out of your mouth. you felt your second orgasm hit you like a freight truck, tingles running up your spine. you tried to push his head away but he only held your body down, a frighteningly feral look on his face as he continued to lap against your clit, unrelenting in his pursuit to pull orgasm after orgasm from you.

after, two, three, four more highs, you couldn’t tell where one began and one ended, he was finally satisfied, pulling his face away, chin glistening in the dim light. your eyes were teary and red, overwhelmed by everything he had put you through. you had never been more satisfied in your life, and by the look on Shouto’s face, he knew it too.

your eyelids began to droop and your body relaxed into the mattress as you came back down into reality. Shouto shuffled around the room before settling you into your bed, tucking the sheets around your body and propping your head against your pillow.

he was enamored by your, by your story, how you opened up so willingly to him after tonight. nothing would get in between you two now. he was just starting to truly know you, know the real you, and nothing was going to stop him from wooing you until you were his, not even his father., and if her life was ever threatened again by him, well, Shouto would just have to kill Todoroki Enji.

#todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki #shouto todoroki #bnha x reader #mha x reader #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #mha #bnha #bnharem collab

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wandawillkill312 · 2 years ago

Text

"Bulletproof Love." (RP starter.)

@witchofchcos

In the new and repaired Avengers Mountain- the HQ forged from the corpse of a Celestial-; A movie was being watched by longtime Avenger" Wanda Maximoff. AKA, "The Scarlet Witch"

The movie showed an 80s Glam Punk teenage girl meeting with a hunky teenage robot boy with silver skin, a handsome faceplate with moveable parts, shiny metal teeth and long wires for hair.

He was made to look like a futuristic Glam Metal rockstar.

They secretly met in an abandoned car factory, where she snuggled up to him, feeling his steel-plated chest- which was molded to look like abs and pecs-, and kissing his polished "Adonis-like" faceplate.

"I don't care what my dad or anyone else says, R05-C03 (Roscoe)." She said, caressing the robot boy's face.

"I love robots and I love you~"

"I love U 2, Cindy~" Roscoe said, in a computerized "Cool Dude" accent.

They both kissed, with equal passion.

"Da**; now I want to know what would have happened, if you met Vision, as a teenager." Said a mysterious voice, from behind Wanda.

It was fellow Avenger Jennifer Walters. AKA, "She-Hulk"- joined by new Avenger Maya Lopez. AKA, "Echo."

"He**; it makes me wonder what Vision would have looked like, if he was built to look like a teenager." Echo playfully teased.

#witchofchcos

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lady-charinette · 5 years ago

Note

idk if you've done this already— and if you're still accepting ideas and such but— Lukanette: wherein Mari goes to one of Luka's gigs and be the supportive wife/gf that she is? also Mari designed the outfit Luka's wearing— and lowkey advertising her works (even if she's known djwjjcjwjdj) sobs in please thanks

Hey anon!! Thank you so much for the cool prompt! I loved it! I hope you'll like this piece, I wrote it late at night and I think there are some mistakes here and there, but I really hope it's okay-ish! Feel free to send more prompts my way! :3

Rocking their World

They were walking through a narrow corridor, the booming of the crowd was so loud it left the floor shaking.

Marinette sensed her husband's mild trepidation, his guitar was a bit too tightly wound around his neck and the constant rolling of his ring on his finger was too fast to be casual.

They were nearing the backstage area, people rushing left and right, lights of all colors flashing even through the blinds hiding the backstage area from the wild crowd.

Marinette smiled, dressed in a shirt representing her husband's band, the words 'wuw you papa' messily scrawled on the entire front of it, partly covering the band logo, but neither parents could care about that.

She grasped Luka's hand and stopped, feeling resistance before Luka finally stopped a step in front of her, turning back to look at her. "What's wrong, Marinette?" Concern twisted his handsome features and Marinette shook her head.

He still thought of others even when he was a mess.

She lovingly adjusted his shirt and jacket, checking the mic on his shirt, running a hand through his already messy hair to calm him.

It helped, if the deep exhale was any indication.

Part of his weight melted against her, Marinette's hands skillfully rubbing the singer's back, voice humming his song, one she thought of years ago on their wedding day, into his ear.

He sagged against her, strong arms coming up to press her tightly against himself, drawing energy from her silent strength. She was so strong, he still sometimes couldn't believe how lucky he managed to be in life.

Marinette kissed his cheek and the couple broke their embrace to stare at each-other. Luka took a deep breath, before he opened his eyes again and nodded.

The shorter woman grinned, hands resting on his chest, over his heart, where the previously wild pace settled into a more calming beat. "You'll be great Luka, just like you always are. You'll see, their attention will be all on you."

A smile stretched his lips and his aqua eyes turned impossibly soft, leaning down to lovingly kiss her forehead. "If I manage to just capture your attention, that's all I need."

A blush rose to her cheeks and the sight of her shyness managed to bring some of his confidence back, if the grin on his face was any indication.

Marinette playfully slapped his arm, slapping her own cheeks to curb the sudden wave of shyness, trying to ignore his laughter.

He was her husband for heaven's sake. She was supposed to be over blushing in front of him.

A gentle hand on the back of her head made her focus on him again, staring into aqua eyes that asked for permission, lips only a hair's breath away.

A smile curved her lips and her hands fisted his shirt, pulling him in close. They shared a long, slow kiss, giving each-other strength and support in actions than words.

When they broke apart, before her stood not the nervous musician but the confident rockstar she knew he was.

"Thank you, Nette." she smiled, raising her hand.

Luka mirrored her smile, raising his own hand enveloping her smaller one with his larger hand, wedding rings clinking together when their pinky fingers met.

It was a promise.

A promise to do his best and give his all.

A promise to cheer him on and support him all the way until the end.

Just like they did now, just like they always have.

They could hear the crowd's cheers dying down slowly as another announcement was made for the arrival of the next musician to take the stage and that was Luka's cue to go.

With a fluidity that spoke of years of trust, Marinette and Luka broke apart and walked in different directions, Luka to the stage, Marinette to the crowd.

It was showtime.

The crowd's defening roars increased when Luka's name fell from the announcer's lips, who quickly rushed off stage to escape from the loud screams and to give Luka the spotlight.

Tonight would be his solo performance in a while without his band, he just hoped he wouldn't mess up.

No, he wouldn't mess it up.

Not with Marinette's encouraging words still ringing in his ears and the warmth still blooming brightly in his heart.

He would do this.

He spoke into the microphone and he was surprised to hear his own voice with how loud the audience was. "Hey everyone, thanks for coming to my solo gig tonight. I hope you'll like this single, it's a new song I've been working on after the birth of my kids! Rock on!" he stepped back for a moment, the loud roars and cheers and screams even louder than before, bordering on eardrum breaking proportions.

Luka chuckled when he saw the banners and cloths held up high over people's heads.

'WE LOVE U MAN!'

'LUKA COUFFAINE 4 THE WIN!'

'I'M STILL SINGLE!'

'WE LOVE UR SONGS!!'

'CALL ME XXXX'

'VIPERION IS HOT! HOT! HOT!'

'YOUR KIDS AND WIFE ARE SO CUTE BRO!'

A particularly big one caught his eye and he had to back away from the mic to laugh.

In the middle right, a bit closer to the stage, there was a semi-large group of people wearing the familiar white unicorn masks he remembered Kitty Section wearing when they debuted.

And everyone was there too.

His sister, Rose, Mylene, her boyfriend Ivan, Alya and Nino, Adrien, Kagami, Alix, Kim, Max and of course the most important person, holding the biggest banner someone her size possibly could, with strength gained from years of being a hero.

His wife.

His gaze softened when he managed to catch her eyes and she stretched her arms as far as they could, waving the banner in the air.

That one was his favorite.

'ROCK THEIR WORLD, DEAR!'

Decorated with hearts, her signature flower design and his old Kitty Section mask drawn in the corner.

Luka grinned, taking out his favorite all time guitar pick, which never failed to bring him luck.

He had it custom made.

A picture of his wife and kids on the front, with his sister and mom on the back.

With a final breath, he strummed the pick across the strings of his guitar and the crowd boomed.

A little while later...

Luka Couffaine signed autographs with a smile, meeting each fan's eyes and making silly faces on photographs to make them memorable.

It was his third favorite thing after performing on stage to do.

His most favorite thing was currently running straight at him.

Marinette dived into his already waiting arms, body vibrating with energy, as if his song was still coursing through her veins.

She had a big grin on her face and her eyes shone like stars and Luka found himself falling for his wife all over again.

Their friends in the back were trying to fight their way passed the fans, the Gorilla and Fang, whom Jagged often allowed to accompany Adrien's bodyguard because they made a surprisingly good duo.

Luka still didn't understand how the odd friendship came to be, but it was always entertaining seeing the previously wild crowd of fans parting like the sea when a large hulking man and a equally sizable crocodile marched their way through them.

And then, the fans rounded on them, camera flashes and eager faces in their view.

"OMG! It's Marinette Couffaine-Cheng!!! LUKA IS WEARING HER DESIGN!" one fan screamed, obviously a fan of his wife too, if the red earrings on her ears and a shirt with her signature flower design was any clue.

Marinette laughed, smiling and also signing autographs, fans shouting praises.

Luka kept to the background but remained visible enough for his wife's handy work to be seen.

Everything down to his socks was designed by his wife. A black leather jacket with her pink and white flower design on the breast pocket with a green snake, too similar to Sass to be a coincidence, curling around the sleeves of the jacket. Underneath the jacket was a white shirt with the band's faces drawn in simple but artistic art lines, a nod to his old Jagged Stone shirt he used to wear in his youth.

On the front was the biggest head, his own, accentuated with blue lines, followed on either side by his sister's in purple, Rose's in pink, Ivan's in red, Adrien's in yellow and Alix's in green.

His pants were dark blue denims, ripped at the knees how he liked it, decorated with small subtle music notes here and there, not too many to be tacky, but enough to catch attention, in colors of white and light blue. Simple black boots covered his feet.

His hair, dyed teal blue near the ends, the root with his natural black and the very beginning tips which remained untouched by blue were covered by red instead, completed the look.

Red like a certain heroine's suit.

He smirked proudly at the rightful attention his wife gained, more and more of his fans immediately catering to Marinette, who accepted praise and compliments with a beaming smile and blushing cheeks. He was fully convinced most if not all of his fans were already his wife's, he was also convinced they loved her more than they did him and that was fine by him.

He loved her more than he could ever bring to love himself too.

He caught her flashing her wedding ring a few times in response to male fans with phone numbers plastered to their banners and Luka had to chuckle at that.

He was there to lead her back to their friends waiting patiently in the lounge of the hotel, after having signed some of their own autographs with their fans having accompanied Luka's gig tonight.

He was there when they finally hit the soft, inviting mattress of the hotel bed, chuckling like teenagers when they called their kids, babysat by Nathaniel and Marc, cheering at their parents for their father's performance and scolding them for staying up so late.

Marc had blushed to the roots of his hair for the scolding, with Luka trying to reassure him they weren't scolding him and Nathaniel shaking his head helplessly.

They knew how rowdy their kids could be, despite them being generally well-behaved and sweethearts. They'd inherited both of their parent's more wild streaks; Marinette's impulsiveness and Luka's rebelliousness.

With blown kisses and soft whispers of good night, with plentiful 'thank you's to Nathaniel and Marc for watching over them, they ended the video chat with their kids and set the phone aside.

With the much welcomed silence filling the room, Luka hissed when he rolled onto his back, stretching himself after the strain of the long night.

Marinette scooted closer and rested a hand on her husband's chest, the couple sighing deeply at the other's closeness.

She drew soothing circles on his naked skin, humming a soft tune.

No, not a soft tune, his tune.

He smiled and wrapped an arm around her, gathering her close and kissing his wife's head. "You were amazing Marinette."

She glanced up at him with an amused smile. "Me? You were the one with the hour long gig remember?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "No, I meant before it all started. I was nervous and you calmed me down before I made a fool of myself." He pressed another kiss to the top of her head. "You're always there for me and I can't thank you enough with words."

His wife giggled, raising herself up and kissing his nose before pecking his lips sweetly. "There are many other ways you can thank me other than with words."

Luka smiled and chuckled when his wife kissed him again and he felt like the world was right.

#fanfic #lukanette #luka couffaine #marinette dupaincheng #ml #ml ask #miraculous ladybug #ml fic #ml fanfic #lukanette fic #married!lukanette #ask #anon #anonymous #i hope its okay!#requests open!

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harryandmolly · 6 years ago

Text

The Emancipation of Ginny ~ 1

summary: shawn and ginny could’ve ruined everything six months ago, and sticking together despite their past could make or break them now as ginny stays on as his personal assistant. but what happens on tour doesn’t stay on tour.

warnings: Language, dental health vs. mental health, Longing (TM)

WC: 4.6k

“Shawn, gum.”

He shuffles over sheepishly and spits his sugar free Dentyne Ice into the garbage can with a metallic ping. He makes a face at her and turns away.

The morning doesn’t look much like morning. It’s so absolutely dark at 3:30am as they huddle in the Air Canada Maple Leaf lounge. There isn’t a single soul in there that doesn’t work for Andrew Gertler, so the team, a.k.a. Andrew himself, Shawn, Cez, Josiah, Brian, Jake and Ginny, are spread out over every available surface. Most of their cast of misfits is asleep. Andrew checks email on his phone, Jake is fighting a cold and snorts into a tissue every few minutes. Shawn and Ginny are the only others conscious.

The only reason they too haven’t passed out before their 5am flight to London is because Shawn has a call-in interview with a radio show in Paris. When they’re in full single promo mode like this, these kinds of squeezed operations are not uncommon. Ginny has to stay on the ball.

Maybe she’s nitpicky, but she just winces at the idea of some snotty Parisian gossip blog making comments about the tacky Canadian kid smacking his gum on air. It would get to Twitter, then Insta, then Tumblr, then god knows where else and she’d really rather just… not.

Shawn’s crisp, clear voice cuts through her fog as he tries to gamely repeat phrases in French (“vous les vous couchez… hey, don’t try to trick me, I know that one!”) for his beloved French listeners. Even at this ungodly hour, he can put on the charm when he needs to. And he rarely complains.

Ginny sighs, tipping her head onto her fist as her elbow props her up on the skinny arm of a terminal seat. She blinks slowly, listening to him laugh and try to pronounce French names as the fog takes her back.

Shawn and Andrew have fought time and circumstance for a week to sit down and have whatever this talk is about to be. Shawn leans forward in the armchair, sitting on his hands and bouncing his knees as Andrew wraps up his phone call. Before his thumb hits the “end call” button, Shawn is on him.

“So what’s up?” he chirps.

Andrew chuckles, exhausted. “Sorry, man. It’s been crazy.”

Shawn nods eagerly for him to proceed. Andrew eases into the chair across from him and rubs his stubbled chin. He smiles wearily, a man exhausted.

“I need some help, dude.”

Shawn’s gut lurches. Andrew’s never asked for his help before. Andrew doesn’t seem to need much of anyone’s help, the way Shawn sees it. Andrew’s his own personal superhero. Shawn’s eyes widen and he nods for him to continue.

“I mean, you’ve seen us lately. We haven’t had 45 seconds to catch up and get our heads on straight since before we started recording. Our world is changing. I think we have to expand to keep up.”

Shawn narrows his eyes and bobs his head again.

“I think we should bring on an assistant. A right hand for you to help you with all the stuff you don’t really need me for, you just need someone. Someone to help keep the schedule going, help with travel, deal with your personal stuff. Someone young who I can lean on too, and help train. Someone interested in artist management who I can help groom from the start of a career.”

Shawn shifts in his seat and sighs. It’s not that he doesn’t want to help Andrew. It’s not even that he doesn’t think he needs a PA -- he accepts that he probably does. He just… the chemistry of the team is so good. He gets hesitant about adding new ingredients. He’s grown so very attached to his people and how they all work together.

He’s about to voice this concern when he looks up at Andrew, his partner, the guy who reached down and hauled him up from Vine and YouTube and gave him the best chance he’s ever had. Andrew, wizened and worn to the bone, though he wears it well. Shawn’s heart swells.

“Of course, yeah, dude.”

“Ok,” Andrew sighs, shifting his glasses against the bridge of his nose, “Security says there are about 40 girls outside.”

Ginny doesn’t have to look to see (or hear) Jake wince. Her nose twitches in response, displacing the little gold hoop in her septum. Shawn just nods like a quarterback taking direction from his coach.

“So, they’re gonna lend us a hand to get us out to the cars. I’ve got Shawn, Ginny and Jake. Cez, Josiah, Brian in car two. You’re heading for the hotel.”

“The party car,” Cez chuckles, raising his eyebrows at his travel buddies. Brian and Josiah agree with a laugh and start hauling their bags over their shoulders in preparation to sift through the crowd.

“Hey, what time is it?” Shawn murmurs from just above Ginny’s head. She’s sifting through texts from Tiffany about scheduling Shawn’s next fitting. She cracks a smile.

“You don’t have time, mate,” she answers softly, reading his mind.

Shawn wrinkles his nose. “Just to say hi. Take a group selfie?”

“Might be late as it is,” she grunts under the weight of the backpack she’s overstuffed. Shawn helps her with the other strap and adjusts it against her back with a tap.

“Ok,” he says. It’s a little despondent with a candy coating. Ginny knows the voice well.

“But we’re gonna have time after Grimmy to say hi to the fans outside the Beeb,” she adds as they begin stalking off down the corridor toward the hulking men in black jackets waiting to escort them out to arrivals’ ground transport.

That seems to perk Shawn up. She snickers at his change in demeanor and flicks at a curl over his forehead. He wriggles his fingers by her face, widening his eyes as he slowly reaches for her hair. She smacks his hand away with a gasp.

“You wouldn’t,” she gripes, drowned out by the resounding shrieks of some very happy British girls as the automatic doors slide open. Shawn wiggles his eyebrows and smirks at her for a moment before he converts it to a billion-dollar rockstar grin and a double-handed toddler wave.

Ginny keeps her head down. It’s easier this way. In the beginning, she thought engaging with the fans would be fun, and Andrew encouraged it at first, thought it would be a good way for her to feel welcomed into the team, but things got out of hand quickly. As the only female on Shawn’s travel team, interest heightened to a level that none of them could handle. After Ginny’s personal Instagram was hacked for the third time, they sat down and had a meeting about her pulling back and becoming a face in the crowd. It was the right thing for everyone. Plus, she’s always really hated the flashes of the paps. If she isn’t expected to be photographed, she slides away from them more easily.

Andrew gets into the passenger side of the first blacked out Range Rover. Shawn and Ginny climb into the back after Shawn throws out a few more waves and “THANK YOU!”s.

With his gaze down at his phone as he thumbs through Twitter, Shawn mumbles, “I don’t know what the fuck they were saying, but this is definitely the fun car.”

Ginny’s lips twitch. Shawn looks over. She giggles. He giggles back. Andrew smiles down at his phone.

Ginny stares with her top lip squeezed under her teeth. She forces her dry, cracked hands between her knees and blinks quickly.

“You know I’m sorry, Gin,” Hannah moans, sitting forward to plant her tiny dark hands on Ginny’s legs, urging her to look up at her.

“No, I know, listen, it’s fine. It was going to happen sometime,” Ginny reasons politely over the smashing of her heart against her ribs.

“But listen, this is better for you!” Hannah hisses, shaking Ginny like she does when she’s trying to get something through her thick head, “If you’d stayed with me forever, you’d never have grown, never have learned anything new. This way, you’ll have direct artist management experience. And Shawn Mendes is one of the biggest acts on the planet. This is invaluable.”

Ginny hears it all, and she knows Hannah is right. But it doesn’t make being fired by your best friend any easier.

Ginny Dresden and Hannah Dyer have been best friends since primary school when they were sat next to each other because they were the only two little girls of color in their class at the tiny posh school in Bedford Park. In the back of their classroom, they colored each other’s hands purple and planted them on construction paper, giggling when they realized even though Hannah’s skin was much darker, they made the same color handprint.

As children, they sang in choir after school until it was no longer cool and then they sang in Hannah’s basement and recorded each other for when they became famous someday.

Now, Ginny waits for the day those tapes will become useful. Because Hannah isn’t just famous, she’s practically iconic.

Hannah, at exactly the right place and the right time, was discovered singing (though underage) at a bar in Fulham and within a few months was signed to a contract with Sony. As her star rose, she took Ginny with her in the hopes that her oldest and dearest friend could explore the world with her and find where she belonged. So she put Ginny on the payroll and off they went.

For four years, they took the world by storm. Ginny was a regular star of Hannah’s Snapchats -- “I’m building your brand,” Hannah would tell her. Ginny was happy to be along for the ride and took an interest in artist management as she saw Hannah cycle through a few different ones, the good, the bad, the ugly.

And then came Marcus. Marcus is the keyboard player of a group called “Bend Daylight” that played the festival circuit with them two years ago. From that first day of Pukkelpop, Ginny knew, even if Hannah didn’t. Marcus was the one.

Hannah and Marcus were married last summer. Four months ago, Hannah announced her pregnancy. And it’s not like Ginny didn’t expect things to change, to slow down. She just didn’t expect to be let go completely. But Hannah wasn’t about to throw her out into the world empty handed. She had set up a gig for Gin through a friend of her manager’s who knew Andrew Gertler from Shawn Mendes’s team. Andrew wanted an experienced PA who was looking to be educated out of her position into artist management. It’s the perfect fit.

Ginny agrees to a meeting. Her hesitance is clear by the furrow in her brow. Hannah reaches across the coffee table and over her swelling belly to plant a kiss between her best friend’s eyes with a wet smack.

“... and you love it here in London, don’t you, Shawn?” spouts Nick Grimshaw in that brilliant Mancunian accent that always makes Ginny feel at home wherever she is in the world. As she sits in a seat against the wall watching Shawn and Grimmy volley banter back and forth live on BBC Radio 1, she feels Shawn’s eyes. She lifts her head from her notebook and smiles warmly.

“Yeah, yeah I do, I really love it. I’ve thought about getting a place out here, actually.”

“Oh yeah?” quips Grimmy, leaning into the mic that he’s gripping with his bony fingers, “Where would you look?”

“Ahhh, I dunno,” Shawn begins, again looking to Ginny, who raises her eyebrows and shrugs as if to say, ‘you’re on your own, pal.’ Grimmy picks up on the gesture.

“Does Ginny have a say in this?” Grimmy laughs, his grin wide and toothy. Ginny shuts her notebook and sits up, shaking her head.

“Ginny, my assistant, she’s from Bedford Park in West London,” Shawn explains proudly, a smile in his voice, “So her vote would be somewhere over there, I’d guess.” He glances to Ginny for confirmation.

Ginny rises from her chair and steps toward the mic Grimmy is waving her toward. A producer hands her headphones. Ginny props her hands on the desk and leans down toward the mic, eyeing Shawn.

“I’d want you to get a posh bachelor pad in Mayfair for us to rage at, actually,” Ginny jokes, winking at Grimmy. Shawn rolls his eyes as Grimmy cheers, “way-hays,” and chants “lads, lads, lads!” Ginny joins him.

“Yeah, definitely my style,” Shawn snarks, lifting his chin at Ginny, who shrugs and settles back in her seat.

“Nice that your team knows their way around, though,” Grimmy concedes with a final smile toward Ginny before he gets back down to business.

“So, this new single…”

As things work out, ever so bizarrely, as is the norm in the Mendes camp, Shawn and Ginny’s first meeting is for a flight from Toronto to New York. By themselves. It’s circumstantial -- Andrew left earlier for New York for a few meetings and Shawn stayed behind in Toronto for his dad’s birthday. Jake, Josiah and the rest of the squad are absent for various reasons, so it’s just… Shawn and Ginny.

“How do I know what she looks like?” Shawn mutters to Andrew on the phone, knowing Andrew won’t judge him for his anxiety over this, as his car pulls up to departures.

“She’s tall. Like, really tall. Just… oh, hey Mike, can you wait up for a second? Hey… yeah, hi, sorry Shawn, just look for a tall, beautiful black woman with a septum piercing. I gotta go. Safe flight. Call me when you land.”

He hangs up before Shawn can say anything else.

Shawn’s gotten over his hangups about bringing on a new team member. He’s had a phone interview with her to make sure he didn’t hear anything crazy in her voice. And he trusts Andrew’s judgment the way he trusts that of his parents. All that remains now is the awkwardness of meeting someone new that’s meant to wait on you day in and day out as their profession. And she’s a tall, beautiful black woman? Why couldn’t they have hired a dude? A scruffy, old dude who Shawn didn’t have to worry about growing close to?

Andrew said she’d be waiting by the Air Canada check-in counters. When Shawn walks through the doors to the airport flanked by a couple security guys in lieu of Jake, he sees one person pacing back and forth in front of the counters on the phone, rolling a sleek red hard-covered suitcase that was absolutely silent as she tugged it around.

It seems almost everything about her Andrew had mentioned was an understatement. She’s tall. Yeah, she’s fuckin’ tall. She’s at least 5’11” but the height of her hair adds at least a few more inches. Shawn doesn’t often interact with women as tall as he is. So that’s new.

And beautiful. Yeah. Also probably undersold her a little.

She’s lithe and thin in that yoga-doing way. She’s wearing leggings that crop at her ankles and show off a truly stunning pair of legs, paired with a plain white t-shirt and a worn old jean jacket, the kind that even the most hipster store couldn’t replicate the cool of. Her hair is a bouncing, living whirl of tight, pencil thin curls that don’t have an ounce of frizz, somehow. She’s got a pair of aviators tucked up in there behind her ears. She doesn’t look to be wearing any makeup beyond a striking red lip color that makes Shawn lick his. Her face is angular but warm with a sweet little nose and a little dip in the center of her chin that reminds him of his own. Her eyes are a dark, clear brown and look like the kind of eyes that reflect every thought in her beautiful head.

Shawn’s chest deflates. He pastes on a friendly smile and tries not to imagine how complicated this could get.

“Shawn, gum!” Ginny calls from the back of the group of troops heading out from the Radio 1 building to greet the fans waiting outside.

Shawn raises a swallow-emblazoned hand and waves it at her as a thank you. She watches as he darts out from the pack to spit his gum into a bin and fall back in line. Ginny hears when they come into view of the crowd because it starts with a collective gasping of teenage breath and becomes a steadier, louder wail that Ginny knows well by now.

Jake looks to Ginny for a nod. She gives it. He shadows Shawn as he strolls over to meet and greet them, taking selfies, doling out hugs, signing and signing until he looks down at his pen with a frown. Before Jake can even look back to Ginny, she’s got a fresh Sharpie at the ready and hands it off to Jake, who hands it to Shawn. The minor interruption is noticed only by Andrew, who grins at the efficiency and shakes his head.

Thank god for Ginny Dresden. He thinks it to himself at least once a day now.

The crowd is only barely dissipating as it becomes time to wrap up. Ginny glances down at her watch and back up at Jake for the nod. Jake nods back and leans into Shawn for the heads up. Shawn does his bowing and praying hands as he backs away from the reaching, grabbing hands. Cameras flash. Ginny ducks her head. They pack themselves into the Rover for the next stop, a dinner at the Connaught Bar with some Island Records people who want to celebrate the new single, “Against the Noise.”

Shawn drops into the seat next to hers with a heaving sigh. She fights her instinct to dip her head onto his shoulder and snuggle into him. Instead, she smiles gently.

“You good?” she hums.

Shawn blinks over at her sleepily. He nods, “‘m good.”

What do I even say? Ginny wonders, trying not to look up at him from her Spotify, but he’s got one of those faces that’s hard to look away from. She knew, obviously, that he was criminally good looking, but Hannah neglected to warn her how overwhelming he is in person. She wants to put her nose right up against his jaw just to feel how sharp it is. What a weird instinct. She blinks hard to rid herself of the notion.

They’re in business class. He’s got his recliner out and is drumming his fingers against his thigh that Ginny’s also trying not to look at because his black jeans look like they’ve been painted the fuck on and his quads are magnificent and she would know because she’s got a very fine pair herself from yoga and pilates.

They’ve been in the air for 20 minutes. The fasten seatbelt sign just went off. Shawn has free WiFi because he probably has enough Air Canada miles to, well, buy Air Canada so he’s looking through his phone. He generously shared his code with her but it got lost somewhere between his big hazel-ish eyes and soft pouty lips and Ginny’s ears. She was too shy to ask for it again, so she pulled out her book instead.

She didn’t have to do this last time, the bonding thing. She and Hannah had been so bonded they were practically attached. But Shawn is essentially her new boss, though she’s technically employed by AG Artists, and she needs to make a good impression.

She’s studying a pathetic mental list of small talk starters that really should be longer given the British peoples’ propensity for chat when Shawn pipes up out of nowhere.

“Hey, where did you get that suitcase from? The red one?”

She looks up from her tragic cuticles and sees him looking at her curiously. Did his eyes get bigger? Warmer? Sweeter? Fuck.

“It’s a Victorinox,” she spits out, “It’s a great case. Super durable. And light. And the wheels are--”

“They’re like, silent,” Shawn interrupts, his voice hushed like he’s talking about magic.

Ginny smiles slowly and a giggle rises up from deep in her chest. And Shawn thinks maybe that really is magic.

Ginny likes the idea of the guerilla bookstore acoustic set better than the reality of it.

The planning was a headache. She and Andrew have been on the phone for a month planning it with the label -- which bookstore would get the honor? Exactly when? What would security be like? Would they drop hints? Would they do a treasure hunt? Would Ginny like to design and manage to execute the treasure hunt from a continent away? Please and thank you.

But Shawn’s excited. So she’s excited.

They crawl out of the Range Rover and traipse over slick pavement into the back entrance of the Waterstones in Piccadilly. Ginny picked it for practical reasons -- they agreed to the contract with the label, their chain could handle the security, it was a central location.

But Ginny’s grandmother used to take her here as a little girl and pick out books every third Sunday of each month like clockwork. She told Shawn this in a hushed voice beside a flickering candle at a business dinner in Century City a few weeks ago as he smiled and gushed over what a great idea it was, how sweet that she planned it to be there.

“It’s always nice to be home with you, Gin.”

Shawn runs the pad of his thumb along the sleek cut of her jaw. He doesn’t worry like he used to about getting her lipstick all over him. He’s living proof that it really is very long wearing. Instead he focuses on drawing out that sweet little noise from the back of her throat that he’s obsessed with.

Ah, god, there it is. It’s so perfect.

Just as soon as he gets it out of her, she pulls away. He grunts and chases her down, pinning his lips to her cheekbone. His fingers trail the seam of her jeans on the outside of her hip while he listens to her pant.

“We’re telling Andrew today. Or it’s done.”

Shawn swallows and he worries for a second his tongue will go down with it. He backs off her cheek and licks his lips with a firm nod.

“Yeah. Yeah, ok.”

It’s Ginny that spearheads the sit down. Andrew doesn’t even look surprised when Shawn reaches over for her hand mid-shaky explanation that they’ve been working together six months now, and they know maybe it’s unconventional, maybe it seems like a bad idea, but this is how they feel and they want to pursue it.

Ginny, to her credit, is not a shrinking violet about it. Her jaw is set, but her eyes are as warm and welcoming as ever. Andrew slumps into his chair and removes his glasses to rub his face.

“Guys…” he groans through his hands, “The thing is, I can’t tell you no. And I can no sooner kick Ginny off the team. Both of those things will lead to immediate chaos. And… and Shawn will be miserable.”

Shawn lifts his eyes from Ginny’s blunted round fingernails.

“I am trusting you both to be adults. Please, god, please don’t make me regret it. If this runs its course, it cannot explode in our faces. We cannot afford that. So if you’re doing this, do it smart. What the fuck am I saying? You’re in love. There’s nothing smart about it. Just… try to minimize casualties.”

He stalks off with his phone. Shawn and Ginny hold each other’s limp fingers, dumbfounded.

Ginny glances over. Shawn meets her gaze. She lifts her eyebrows. He lifts the corner of his mouth.

“Ok.”

Shawn’s smile is glorious after he plays a set, any set for anyone. He could be in a field playing an acoustic for the three blind mice and he’d be beaming like he just got offstage at Madison Square Garden. It’s beautiful. And it’s addictive.

Ginny follows him closer than usual as they leave the bookstore. Her general rule is to trail around the back of Shawn’s entourage. Any time she was photographed within five feet of him, they’d hear about it. But tonight, after he played under an arch where she used to curl up with the Chronicles of Narnia and the Series of Unfortunate Events, it’s harder to stay away.

She indulges the whim and walks beside him through the hoard of paparazzi flashing their cameras and hollering “Shawn! Oi, Shawn!” for a glance from the wonderboy. He notices her presence and offers a subtle smile, a moment he hopes won’t be plastered across the front page of The Sun in the morning. Perhaps that’s naive. But he doesn’t actually care that much right now.

They climb into the car, finally on the way to the hotel. Shawn sits back and tilts his head against the headrest, watching the Thames go by.

Ginny shifts and slides something out of her back pocket. Shawn hears plastic and foil crackling.

“Shawn, gum?”

He turns to see her holding a packet of sugar free Dentyne Ice. He grins.

“Please,” he begs, voice shaky with unshed tears, “Please don’t leave. Please. I know it’s fucking unfair to ask. I hate myself a little. I really do. But, fuck, please, I can’t do it without you, Gin. Not because… because I’d forget to fuckin’ put on pants in the morning if you didn’t tell me to, but because you’re… Jesus Christ, you’re my best friend. I can’t lose you like this.”

The conversation the night before had been quick and so, so painful. It had to be, coming out of nowhere like that. Ginny was blindsided, having woken up naked under him in the morning with his lips on her ear only to shuffle off to her own hotel room for the first time in two months because he wanted to focus on his career and their relationship had become… too distracting.

She really can’t blame him for that, she supposes. Things had gotten pretty mad. They were obsessed with each other, refused to spend even a few hours away. It was easily negotiable, given that he was the artist and she was his personal assistant. But the energy around them for those two months, it was like an overstretched coil waiting to snap and send the whole team back to 14th century Verona for a full-on Romeo and Juliet scenario.

Snap it did. Ginny was packing quietly in a daze, ready to tell Andrew she was leaving, that she was sorry, but that he’d made the choice. Instead Shawn knocked on her door and she let him in like she always had.

Ginny’s dry cheeks sting with her tears. She sniffs and toes at the floor, locking her arms over her chest. “Don’t really want to leave, you know,” she murmurs, “This is a good opportunity for me. I’m learning a lot.”

“So don’t leave,” Shawn pleads, lurching forward. She adjusts, taking a step back. Shawn notices and shivers, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Don’t leave. Stay. I think we can do it. I honestly think we can. We were best friends first, remember?”

She remembers. She remembers being in love with her best friend until that first night in Germany where he kissed her under the table in the Hofbrauhaus and they didn’t turn back.

Until now.

I know Brits love tea but consider buying me a Ko-fi (link on my mainpage)!

Taglist: @smallerinfinities @the-claire-bitch-project @achinglyshawn @infiniteshawn @stillinskislydia @singanddreamanyway @alone-in-madness @abigfatmess @shawnitsmutual @awkwardfangirl2014 @september-lace @accioarmenian @sinplisticshawn @mutuallynotmutual @rollingxstone @yslsaint @randi-eve

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fan fic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fan fiction #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes series

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ijustthinkevilunoisneat · 3 years ago

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I'm gonna be excited no matter what about She Hulk because it's Jameela Jamil's Marvel debut but I do love New Rockstars breaking it down

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askauradonprep · 5 years ago

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Wrestling Inspiration

As part of the wrestling AU, @scream-qween and I were talking about the different kids and wrestlers who could have served as inspiration for them. Let’s pretend for a second the WWE exists in this universe. Other wrestler suggestions are welcome, I’m just picking ones I’m familiar with (and I’m relatively new to wrestling - I’ve only watched for two years and only watched WWE).

Note: I am referring to the wrestlers as in their kayfabe personas. Any mention of them here should not be read as an endorsement of anything they may have said or done elsewhere.

Mal = Paige, Sonya Deville, Mandy Rose, Undertaker, Kane, Ruby Riott, Sarah Logan, Liv Morgan, Jody Threat, Molly McCoy, Maria Manic, Tamina and Nia Jax (as a heel).

Uma = Kairi Sane, Io Shirai, Becky Lynch, Roman Reigns, Drew McIntyre, Sasha Banks, Creatures of the Deep, Trish Stratus, Jordynne Grace, The Sea Stars, Chyna, Rhea Ripley, Shotzi Blackheart, Lita, Allie, Kofi Kingston, Nia Jax, Beth Phoenix, Randy Orton, Seth Rollins, Bianca Belair, and Ronda Rousey.

Freddie = Undertaker, Kane, Cameron, Carmella, Damian Priestly, Bray Wyatt, Ember Moon, AJ Lee, Paige, New Age Outlaws, Hawlee Cromwell, Elias, Sanity, Su Yung, Nikki Roxx, Aliyah, and Ruby Riott.

Celia = Undertaker, Bray Wyatt, New Age Outlaws, Ember Moon, Tamina, Aleister Black, Sting, Solo Darling, Nikki Roxx, Willow Nightingale, and Vivian St. John

Jay = Baron Corbin, Stone Cold Steve Austin, The Miz, Natalya, Seth Rollins, Becky Lynch, Dean Ambrose, Imperium, British Strong Style, Pete Dunne, Goldberg, Ember Moon, Big Show, Jericho, Bret Hart, Bullet Club, Kurt Angle, Rey Mysterio, Alex Zayne, Roman Reigns, Warhorse, The Rock, and the Undertaker

Evie = Nikki Bella, Brie Bella, Alexa Bliss, Sasha Banks, Cameron, Mandy Rose, Naomi (especially as a face), Scarlette Bordeaux, Velveteen Dream, Laynie Luck, Breezango, Kylie Rae, and Bayley (especially at the height of her ‘hugger’ days), Charlotte Flair and Ric Flair.

Carlos = Carmella, R-Truth, the Usos, New Day, Shield (as faces), Mark Henry, Big Show, Heath Slater, Undisputed Era, Jordynne Grace, Alex Ohlson, IFHY, Lana, Marko and Logan Stunt, No Way Jose, Lucha House Party, Xyberhawx 2000, and Naomi.

Harry = Nikki Cross, Drew McIntyre, Aleister Black, AJ Lee, Bray Wyatt, Kane, Kairi Sane, Shayna Baszler, Space Pirates, Becky Lynch, Jon Moxley, Jordynne Grace, The Sea Stars, Creatures of the Deep, Damian Priestly, Ember Moon, Randy Orton, Shawn Michaels, Mick Moretti, The Carnies, Undertaker, and Finn Balor (as the demon).

Gil = Brock Lesnar, Braun Strowman, Bobby Lashley, Randy Orton, Drew McIntyre, New Day, Heavy Machinery, Space Pirates, the Viking Raiders, Oleg the Usurper, Creatures of the Deep, Warhorse, Mark Henry, Kane, Big Show, and Kairi Sane.

Ben = John Cena, Kurt Angle, Bruno Sanmartino, Bret Hart, Finn Balor, Diamond Dallas Page, Bayley, Naomi, Natalya, Boomer Hatfield, Levi Everett, Dynamite Dino Dude, and Roman Reigns (especially after he came back from leukaemia).

Chad = Baron Corbin, Randy Orton, Carmella (as a heel), the Miz (as a heel), the Shield (as heels), Kane, Sasha Banks (as a heel), Shane McMahon, Stephanie McMahon, Triple H, Shawn Michaels, Vince McMahon, Darin Corbin, GPA, Breezango, and the Usos.

Lonnie = Asuka’s NXT heel run, Xia Li, Becky Lynch (especially as ‘the Man’), Sonya Deville, Gail Kim, Bianca Belair, Minerva, Velveteen Dream, Johnny Gargano, Jason Jordan, The Bar, Titus O’Neil Rhea Ripley, Shayna Baszler, Tamina, Lacey Lane, Mia Yim, and Natalya.

Jane = Bayley, Asuka (as a face), Candice LeRae, Dakota Kai, Bobby Roode, Sara Del Ray, Summer Rae, Willow Nightingale, Solo Darling, Jordynne Grace, and Charlotte Flair

Audrey = SASHA BANKS, Charlotte Flair, Bianca Belair, the Rock, AJ Lee (as a heel), Alexa Bliss, Nikki Bella, Brie Bella, Mercedes Martinez, Velveteen Dream, Renee Michelle, Roman Reigns, Princess Kimberlee, Mickie James, Lacey Evans and Tamina.

Jordan = Sasha Banks, Carmella, R-Truth, Cameron, Miz, Maryse, Nikki Bella, Nia Jax, Becky Lynch, Natalya, CM Punk, Roddy Piper, Tegan Nox, Santana Garrett, Kacy Catanzaro, D-Generation-X, Molly Holly, LuFisto, Lacey Lane, Ronda Rousey.

Ally = Harley Wonderland, Nikki Cross, Allison Wonderland, Alexa Bliss, Maria Kanellis, Rhea Ripley, Lita, Elias, Heavy Machinery, EFFY, AJ Lee, Bayley, and Lacey Evans, Nina Samuels, Jinny.

CJ = Kairi Sane and Io Shirai are all she cares about.

Aziz = Ricochet, Ali, AJ Styles (as a face), B-Team, Bayley, Dolph Ziggler, Jinder Mahal, Finn Balor, Kurt Angle, Dana Brooke, the New Day, Jordan Devlin, Sonny Daze, Goldust.

Herkie = Shinsuke Nakamura, Rusev, Kevin Owens, Brock Lesnar, Mark Henry, Samoa Joe, Bobby Lashley, Becky Lynch, Titus O’Neil, Shelton Benjamin, Kurt Angle, Mandy Rose, and Punishment Martinez.

Maddy = AJ Lee, Aksana, Ember Moon, CM Punk, Paige, Emma, Lita, Charlotte Flair, Rosa Mendes, Victoria, The Beautiful People, Ric Flair, The Ascension, Laycool, and Alexa Bliss, Jinny, Reina Gonzalez.

Ginny = Alexa Bliss, Alicia Fox, Candice LeRae, Mandy Rose, Charlotte Flair, Maryse, Zelina Vega, Lana, Randy Savage, Maria Kanellis, Dolph Ziggler, Laycool, The Iiconics, Candy Floss, Carmella.

Harriet = Kairi Sane, Io Shirai, Mia Yim, Shane Saber, Shelly Martinez, Shayna Baszler, Paul and Katie Lea Burchill, Rhea Ripley, Batista, Kay Lee Ray, Jazzy Gabert, Natalya, Becky Lynch, and Toni Storm.

Ruby = Bayley, Bobby Roode, Dolph Ziggler, Naomi, New Day, Candice LeRae, Dakota Kai, Lucha House Party, Rey Mysterio, Bianca Belair, Jericho, No Way Jose, Dana Brooke, Xia Brookside, Carmella and R-Truth, Humberto Carrillo, Jurassic Express, Cain Velasquez, Andrade, Sin Cara, Zelina Vega, Sarah Stock, Catalina Garcia.

Anxelin = Baron Corbin, Alexa Bliss, Carmella, Charlotte Flair, Ember Moon, Sasha Banks, Paige, Eddie Guerrero, Apollo Crews, Cedric Alexander, Dana Brooke, Titus O’Neil, Shelton Benjamin.

Yi-Min = She’s mostly seen Chinese wrestling promotions, so Black Mamba, Ho Ho Lun, King of Man, Ash Silva, Slam, Hangwan, Voodoo, Candy Brother, Dalton Bragg, and Jason New are her inspirations from those promotions. She’s got a few wrestlers whose careers she follows in English though - Xia Li, Karen Q, Lin Byron, Kenny Li, Rocky, and Big Boa.

Arabella = Daniel Bryan, Rowan, Brie Bella, Asuka, Rusev, Lana, Natalya, Alexa Bliss, Braun Strowman, Becky Lynch, Sami Zayn, Sasha Banks, Finn Balor, Apollo Crews, The Miz, Mandy Rose, Goldust, Elias, Bayley, Bobby Roode, Charlotte Flair, Jimmy Uso, Naomi, Shinsuke Nakamura, Big E, Carmella, Ember Moon, Mickie James, Bobby Lashley, Jinder Mahal, Alicia Fox, Kevin Owens, AJ Styles, Jeff Hardy, R-Truth, and Nia Jax.

Jade = Aliyah, Jayme Hachey, Bianca Belair, Vanessa Borne, Abbey Laith, Ayesha Raymond, Candice LeRae, Dakota Kai, Jazzy Gabert, Kairi Sane, Kavita Devi, Kay Lee Ray, Lacey Evans, Marti Belle, Mercedes Martinez, Mia Yim, Miranda Salinas, Nicole Savoy, Piper Niven, Princesa Sugehit, Rachel Evers, Reina Gonzalez, Renee Michelle, Rhea Ripley, Sage Beckett, Santana Garrett, Sarah Logan, Serena Deeb, Shayna Baszler, Taynara Conti, Tessa Blanchard, Toni Storm, Xia Li, Zeda, Tegan Nox, Barbi Hayden, Deonna Purrazzo, Jessica James, Lei’D Tapa, Nicole Matthews, Alundra Blayze, Lita, Triple H, Corey Graves, Aerial Monroe, Allysin Kay, Ashley Rayne, Hiroyo Matsumoto, Io Shirai, Isla Dawn, Jessica Elaban, Jinny, Kacy Catanzaro, Kaitlyn, Karen Q, Killer Kelly, Lacey Lane, Meiko Satomura, MJ Jenkins, Priscilla Kelly, Vanessa Kraven, Xia Brookside, Zatara, Zeuxis, Beth Pheonix

Zevon = Steve Austin, Triple H, Brock Lesnar, Batista, Rey Mysterio, Undertaker, John Cena, Randy Orton, Edge, Sheamus, Roman Reigns, Shinsuke Nakamura, Asuka, Becky Lynch, Seth Rollins, Drew McIntyre, Charlotte Flair, Booker T, William Regal, Bad News Barrett, Baron Corbin, Christian, The Miz, Daniel Bryan, CM Punk, MVP

Anthony = Steve Austin, Triple H, Kurt Angle, Rob Van Dam, Brock Lesnar, Batista, John Cena, Randy Orton, AJ Styles, The Miz, CM Punk, Daniel Bryan, Seth Rollins, Roman Reigns, Kazuchika Okada, Kenny Omega, Ted DiBiase, Ric Flair, The Rock, William Regal, Prince Devitt, Charlotte Flair, Sasha Banks, Mustafa Ali, Prince Nana, Prince Puma, Awesome Kong, Mickie James, Michelle McCool, Madison Eagles, Gail Kim, Cheerleader Melissa, Paige, Nikki Bella, Asuka, Ronda Rousey, Becky Lynch, Natalya, Jimmy Jacobs, Aliyah, Alexa Bliss, The Authority, Kairi Sane, Carmella, Toni Storm, Chrissy Rivera, Chelsea Green

Claudine = Michelle McCool, Kurt Angle, Roman Reigns, Rey Mysterio, AJ Styles, Quinn Ojinnaka, Eddie Guerrero, Pat Patterson, Shawn Michaels, Naomi, Nor Diana, Goldberg, Mustafa Ali, Kacy Catanzaro, Ricochet, Candice LeRae, Mandy Rose, Lacey Evans (as a face), Bayley (as a face), Becky Lynch (as The Lasskicker), Dana Brooke, Sami Zayn (as a face).

Diego = Elias, Street Profits, R-Truth, Carmella, Sasha Banks, Bayley, Shawn Michaels, Jericho, Cameron, Naomi, Marty Jannetty, Shayna Baszler, Drake Maverick, The Rockstar, John Cena, Lita, Mickie James, Jeff Jarrett, Jeff Hardy, Matt Hardy, Samoa Joe, Lio Rush, Braun Strowman, Rusev, The Rock, Aiden English, Bobby Roode, Hulk Hogan, Lana

Opal = Ricochet, Kota Ibushi, Rey Mysterio, Io Shirai, AJ Styles, Jeff Hardy, Evan Bourne, Owen Hart, Jushin Thunder Liger, Kane, Randy Savage, Scott Steiner, Lita, Christian, Jamie Noble, Matt Hardy, Gail Kim, Daniel Bryan, Xavier Woods, Kofi Kingston, Tajiri, Zelina Vega, Ayako Hamada, Aliyah, Naomi, Mio Shirai

Ariana = Lady Apache, La Amapola, Marcela, Lioness Asuka, Dynamite Kansai, Chigusa Nagayo, Dump Matsumoto, Mae Young, Luna Vachon, Leilani Kai, Sarah Stock, Natalya, Cheerleader Melissa, Ayako Hamada, Beth Phoenix, Mariko Yoshida, Gail Kim, Mickie James, Sara Del Rey, Akira Hokuto, Alundra Blayze, Judy Grable, Wendi Richter, Bull Nakano, June Byers, Jaguar Yokota, Chyna, Sherri Martel, Awesome Kong, Lita, Mildred Burke, Aja Kong, Trish Stratus, Manami Toyota, Becky Lynch, Charlotte Flair, Paige, AJ Lee, Marie LaVerne, Joyce Grable, Ann Casey, Sue Green, Rachel Dubois, Debra, Stephanie McMahon, Victoria, Candice Michelle, MsChif, Sasha Banks, Asuka, Michelle McCool, Madison Eagles, Jazz, Jacqueline, Nikki Bella, Alicia Fox, Ivory, Roman Reigns, and Seth Rollins

Lil’ Shang = Edge, Christian, Rey Mysterio, Triple H, Shawn Michaels, Brett Hart, Jim Neidhart, Undertaker, Kane, Finn Balor, Ho Ho Lun, Big Boa, Rocky, The Rock, Rikishi, Mick Foley, Kurt Angle, Chris Jericho, Daniel Bryan, Jinder Mahal, Booker T, Fit Finlay, R-Truth, Trish Stratus, Lita, Victoria, Jazz, Molly Holly, Beth Phoenix, LuFisto, Lance Storm, Road Dogg, Umaga, The New Day, Bianca Belair, Street Profits

Artie = Tyler Bate, Trent Seven, Pete Dunne, Jordan Devlin, Kenny Williams, Ligero, Nick Aldis, Drew McIntyre, Finn Balor, Sheamus, Becky Lynch, Nikki Cross, Paige, James Drake, Bea Priestley, Ayesha Raymond, Zoe Lucas, Tegan Nox, Layla, Lana Austin, Bad News Barrett, Drake Maverick, Isla Dawn, Priscilla Kelly, Joe and Mark Coffey, Finlay, Nadia Sapphire, Eddie Dennis, Mark Andrews, Morgan Webster

Carina = Andre the Giant, Tamina, Lana, Maryse, Taynara Conti, Gisele Shaw, Becky Lynch, Charlotte Flair, Sasha Banks, Trish Stratus, Rhea Ripley, Indi Hartwell, Alexa Bliss, Bayley, Liv Morgan, Natalya, Toni Storm, Kay Lee Ray, Nia Jax, Mortar, Tegan Nox, Chyna, Lita, Asuka, Kairi Sane, Io Shirai, Kagetsu, Melanie Cruise, Shotzi Blackheart, Dakota Kai, Mia Yim, Candice LeRae, Riho, Sarah Logan, Hikaru Shida, Aja Kong, Bull Nakano

Doug is a manager. As a manager, his inspirations are Paul Heyman, Zelina Vega, Lana, and Bobby Heenan. Smee kids and Elle are commentators. The boys tend to like Michael Cole, Beth Phoenix and Byron Saxton. Elle tends towards JR, Corey Graves and Renee Young. Dizzy is a reporter back stage, but her favourite wrestlers to watch are Bayley, Kylie Rae, Breezango, and Princess Kimberly as a face. She gets her professional inspiration from Renee Young, Gene Okerlund, Charly Caruso and Cathy Kelley.

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