Season 1:

CARBON COPY | Miguel O'Hara

☆ premise: trying to find miles morales in earth-42, he encounters you. or at least, a version of you.

☆ pairing: miguel o'hara x fem!alt universe!reader

☆ warnings: across the spiderverse spoilers, pregnant!reader, clueless!reader, angst, hurt no comfort, miguel's pov, some swearing

☆ a/n: oh my god. across the spiderverse is literally a masterpiece. into the spiderverse already is, but the spiderverse team said, "we can do better." they didn't have to, but they did.

"Do you really think this is a good idea?" Jessica asked through the commlink. "This is risky, even by your standards."

"It doesn't matter. The quicker we find Miles, the quicker we get out of here." Miguel muttered into his earpiece as he walked through the busy streets of Earth-42's New York.

"Yes, but blending in? For all we know, a version of us exists here."

"Which is why you need to stop talking and start looking, Jess." Miguel hissed a little too loud, earning looks from a few passerbys. He winced. Jessica had a point. If a version of them did exist in this universe, it would be best not to bring attention to themselves.

"Miguel!"

And... that was now thrown out of the window. Cursing under his breath, he turned around reluctantly to face the person who called him—only to find that it was you.

His eyes widened, and his lips parted at the sight of you. Never in a million years did he expect to see her again. But here you were, the absolute spitting image of her. Your clothes were exactly the same things she would wear, your hair and makeup done the same way.

Finding different versions of people in different universes was not uncommon. There's literally a society uniting the different universes' own Spider-people, for God's sake. But Miguel didn't expect this. He didn't expect a carbon copy of his dead wife on a universe where Spider-Man did not exist.

He should've said he wasn't Miguel, that you were mistaking him for someone else. Hell, he shouldn't have stopped and turned around in the first place. He didn't know what came over him, but in a second, he had his arms wrapped around your body.

"Miguel, hon, are you okay?" You asked, your voice laced with surprise and concern. You had no clue that the man who was hugging you was not your husband. At least, not your husband in this universe.

Miguel grunted in response, his ability to string words together to form a sentence rendered broken by your presence. He squeezed you tighter. He couldn't believe he was holding you in his arms.

You weren't the same woman he fell in love with. He knows this. But he couldn't help himself. You looked exactly like her. Felt exactly like her. Sounded exactly like her. Shit, you even smelled like her.

"Damn it, Miguel, keep it together! She's not your wife!"

Hearing Jess' voice snapped Miguel out of his stupor. Remembering his mission, why he was there in the first place, he pulled away from you. He didn't want to. He wanted to hold you longer. But he knew that if he did, he wouldn't have been able to stop.

"Honey, what's wrong?" You asked, cupping his face in your hands. God, how he missed feeling the warmth of your palms. "You're acting weird."

"I'm fine, sweetheart." He gave you a small smile, his hands wrapping around yours and his lips pressing a kiss on each of your wrists. "I just missed you, that's all."

You laughed. "What are you talking about? You saw me this morning."

Miguel could only chuckle in an attempt to hide his sadness. What was only hours for you was months for him. "Right. I did."

"Are you sure you're okay, though?" You asked again, eyebrows furrowing and the corners of your lips downturned.

"Don't worry about it, darling. I am."

He wasn't. But you didn't need to know that. You didn't need to know that in another universe, the two of you were married. You didn't need to know that you had a daughter together. You didn't need to know that he loved you and your daughter more than life itself, only for him to lose you both.

"Listen, I have to go. I'm having lunch with a friend. But I'll see you later at Doctor Nguyen's, okay?" You placed your hands on your stomach, a smile forming on your face. "I can't wait to see her again."

Miguel swallowed the lump in his throat before forcing himself to smile. Only now he noticed the bump on your stomach, carrying a different Miguel's Gabriella. "Yeah, me too."

With a kiss goodbye on his cheek, you walked away, blissfully unaware that he was not your Miguel. He watched as you disappeared around the corner, knowing it was the first and last time he was ever going to see you again.

But that didn't matter. He'll find Miles. He'll make sure the canon isn't destroyed. He'll make sure another version of himself wouldn't have to suffer the loss of his family the same way he did. He'll make sure you and your kid were safe.

He is just so hot

OMFG IT SEEMS LIKE THESE WRITERS DON'T KNOW HOW TO USE TAGS, IF YOUR FANFIC IS NOT A READER INSERT DON'T USE READER TAGS! jesus christ, we don't want to read your fantasies, there is clearly a difference between "reader insert" and "oc insert" IT'S NOT THAT HARD 💀

edit: "reader inserts" are for people who want to be inserted into the story, with any kind of gender, color, hair etc and NOT a fully described character with name, characteristics, genders..

I will be a stranger when we meet again…

⟡ ₘₐₓ ᵥₑᵣₛₜₐₚₚₑₙ ⟡

NONE OF THESE ARE WRITTEN BY ME

ᵐʸ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ʳᵉᶜˢ ᶠ¹ ʳᵉᶜˢ

— ᶠᴸᵁᶠᶠ ⟡

heaven is a place on earth with you - @lumi-nescentt

private professor - @sinofwriting

bow (^)

made for each other (^)

even kiss begins with tabs (^)

raised to love (tw: some dark themes & jos verstappen) (^)

mornings with max - @verstappen-cult

max is the type of guy to... (^)

protective (^)

5 times max refuses to acknowledge he’s sick + 1 time he does (^)

reuniting (^)

pining and yearning - @theemporium

getting spoiled (^)

i pay attention (^)

getting jealous over him (^)

gift giving (^)

distractions - @starlost97

showering max with compliments - @lovings4turn

love at midnight - @unformula1

morning kisses - @adventuringblind

he must be lucky! (^)

matchmaker pets - @the-flaneur

at least for the pictures - @love44lew

cuddle bug - @chrisevansonly

beach read - @monzabee

"i might have had a few shots" - @forzalando

anyone can cook (^)

the ways in which max shows you he loves you - @thatsdemko

— ᴬᴺᴳˢᵀ⟡

go ahead and smile - @foreveralbon

trust me - @postracehair

a fool's flowers - @leclucklerc

drunk walk home - @everythingne

a second chance - @charlesslut16

navy fury (tw: jos verstappen) - @delulujuls

love me harder - @ynsbarbbb

protective max (tw: jos verstappen) - @formulaa-1

— ˢᴹᵁᵀ⟡

big 'ole freak - @mariahcarreyyy

can't you see - @cherry-leclerc

flustered tweets (suggestive) - @charles-leclerizz

sultry vindications (^)

needy - @bunnys-kisses

"who's my pretty girl?" (^)

with the red dress on - @aliwritex

thighs (suggestive) - @vivwritesfics

handcuffs (^)

neck kisses (VERY suggestive) - @verstappen-cult

— ˢᴼᶜᴵᴬᴸ ᴹᴱᴰᴵᴬ ⟡

smitten - @chrisevansonly

finish line - @norris55s

we're on each other's team (^)

do-over - @maplesyrupsainz

just screeching tires & true love (!!!!!!mentions of SA!!!!!!!) (^)

children of divorce - @landonfour

bejeweled - @poetsblvd

thighs don't lie - @thepersonnamedsam

can i call you rose? - @f1version

broken - @onlyangel4

potion (^)

horner!reader - @pucksandpower

ramsay!reader (^)

hamilton!reader (^)

love story - @verstappen-cult

slay intensifies - @vivwritesfics

princess treatment - @natailiatulls07

paint him red ! - @agendabymooner

full of fan behavior - @covenists

new desire - @formulafics

paint me in lovely red - @bth3cowboi

your honor, he's a simp - @httpsserene

— ˢᴱᴿᴵᴱˢ ⟡

pre-gala the real prize jealousy panties captivity rocky escaping thighs consquences a mile high new beginnings (each part has sexual content) - @dilemmaontwolegs

when i speak, he listens so i'm the villan no point in fixing it winners always win they'll never shut up - @uglyducklingofthe2000s

mouse (^)

hard launch appendix touch - @archiverstappen

one two three (smau) (harry and f1 in one fic is everything) - @alonetimelover

max & the three musketeers (smau) (this is so funny i was hollering) - @verstarppen

strawberry wine - @scuderiahoney

little leclerc gets married to max (smau) - @theemporium

please, oh please two - @sinofwriting

he had it coming (smau) - @youreverydayfangirl

2 ~ The Fool

Vi Et Animo (With Heart and Soul)

Vander x Fem!Reader

Summary: Adapting to your new life will take some time. Luckily, you have a friend to help you out.

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: Kids asking intrusive questions, teasing, swearing, suggestive comments toward reader, I think that’s it

A/N: Kind of a transition chapter, I tried to make it as interesting as possible for everyone involved XD

Chapter 1 Masterlist Chapter 3(wip)

Your eyes grew unfocused as you read over a student’s essay. You’d been sitting there for what felt like days grading papers and planning assignments.You’d scarcely had time for a break lately. The starry blue cloth covering your desk almost seemed to glow as your eyes crossed.

You sighed, rubbing your hands over your face as you sat back for a moment, letting your eyes drift to the domed ceiling. Various constellations were carved into it, all aligning with the sky above. 

Absently, you shuffled your cards between your two hands, watching them glide through your fingers, the sound doing something to soothe your weary mind. You continued until a card flew from the deck, landing crooked on your desk face down. Glancing at it, you tilted your head, wondering what your spirit guides found so urgent that you needed to hear it right that moment. 

Setting your deck to the side, you let your fingers hover over the single card before carefully flipping it over.

The Fool.

New beginnings, freedom, spontaneity, adventure.

The Fool depicts a youth walking joyfully into the world. He is taking his first steps, and he is exuberant, joyful, excited. He carries nothing with him except a small sack, caring nothing for the possible dangers that lie in his path. Indeed, he is soon to encounter the first of these possible dangers, for if he takes just a step more, he will topple over the cliff that he is reaching.

The Fool is a warning to not be naive to risks and to be aware of the path you’re treading.

In its upright position, it was the bright start of a new journey. When reversed, it was a warning that you were stepping too far beyond your path and it would lead to potential disaster. 

It had landed sideways. Perfectly neutral. 

Both a warning and a premonition. Urging you to be sure-footed and take your time on this path.

The waters were cold and dark if you plummeted to the depths, but they could also embrace you in the serenity of their stillness—the weightlessness provided a steady release from the heaviness on your shoulders, if you let them.

An assured knock landed on your door, and when you looked up, Lest was in front of you. Her ear twitched as she regarded your drawing.

“The cards giving you a hard time again?” She grinned mischievously.

You sighed, leaning back and gesturing to the card in front of you. “What do you think?” You asked.

She leaned over your desk, eyes darting over the card and its position. “Did it land that way?” She questioned. You nodded, crossing your arms over your chest. “Interesting…”

“That’s it?” You deadpanned. 

“What do you want me to say?” She stood up straight, raising a brow as she crossed her arms, mimicking your position. 

You sighed, letting your eyes close as you laid your head back against your chair. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “Am I doing the right thing?” You opened your eyes to peer at her as she took a drag from her pipe, the purple smoke drifting through the air. Her presence always calmed you as did her insight.

“Have you asked them?” She nodded to your card deck. “They’re the only ones who could even come close to telling you.”

-------------------------

You rolled over, and the sheets were cool beside you. Your eyes fluttered, but you didn’t open them yet, wanting to enjoy your time in bed before getting ready for work. 

When your lids finally pried apart, you were in an unfamiliar room with air that made your lungs tight and no light filtering through the windows. You sat up, trying not to panic as your eyes flitted around the room.

There was a door across from you and a curtain to your left. You looked down at yourself, seeing a massively baggy t-shirt twisted around your frame from the way you had slept, undoubtedly. It smelled faintly of smoke and leather, and the previous days’ events came flooding back to you.

The exile. The thieves. The hunger. You clutched your stomach as it growled—nowhere near the severity it had been—and noticed how thin you had gotten just in a few days without any source of nutrients.

And out of nowhere, Vander had found you and brought you back to his bar-slash-home, fed you, cleaned you up, and tended your wounds before offering you a place to sleep. Fucking weird thing to happen out of nowhere, but listen, after the hell you had been through, you would take what you could get.

Slowly, you pulled yourself out of bed, remaking the blanket behind you before carefully heading downstairs. You ran a hand through your hair, praying it wasn’t as messy as it felt.

The first thing you noticed was the smell of fried eggs. The second thing was a head of blue hair and a head of pink hair, sitting at the bar. Vander was behind it with a hotplate cooking the eggs you smelled.

He looked up with a half smile as a stair creaked beneath you. You froze, being caught peeping and tucked yourself half behind the corner as both girls turned to you. The younger one—-Powder, if you remembered right—-regarded you with wide eyes, a more curious stare. Whereas her sister, Violet, scowled, looking past you and up the stairs.

Most of the time, you would pride yourself on your interactions with children, but you weren’t from here, and they weren’t from Piltover. You knew there was bound to be some kind of lapse between you.

“Breakfast?” Vander asked, calling back your attention from the little ones. 

You smiled sheepishly and nodded as you finally made your way down the stairs to join them at the bar. You took a seat at the end of the bar, pulling on Vander’s shirt to try and cover as much of you as it could. Which—-while not surprising—-was a lot.

Vander started dishing out food and introduced you to the girls. “She’s going to be staying with us for a while, alright? So no funny business.” He pointed the wooden spatula at them each, eyeing them carefully as though he could already see their plans.

You couldn’t help the small smile that spread on your lips watching him. He slid a plate to you and you nodded in thanks, glancing away as he sent you a wink. You looked at the girls as they dug into their food and cleared your throat. 

“If you guys have any questions, I’ll try to answer them,” you told them.

Vi looked at you with half an egg shoved in her mouth, practically scowling, while Powder’s eyes darted between you and Vander.

“Are you really from up there?” Powder asked with wide eyes.

You glanced at Vander, and he just shrugged and nodded. “Yes, I’m from Piltover,” you told her. “I was a teacher.”

“Why did you come here?” She asked. “Did you want to visit?” You wished it could be explained with such child-like innocence. The truth was far darker.

“Nobody comes here because they want to, Powder.” Vi rolled her eyes. “What did you do to get kicked?” She questioned.

“Violet—” Vander scolded.

“No, it’s alright,” you assured him. “She’s right.” There was a flash of surprise in Vi’s gaze before it was quickly covered up again. “There was an accident, and the council needed someone to blame. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Not quite a lie. Not quite the truth. You weren’t really sure what the truth was anymore.

“So Vander saved you?” She eyed you suspiciously. “Is that why you’re wearing his clothes?”

“Mine needed a wash,” you shrugged a shoulder, starting to cut into your eggs. Vander chuckled as he cleared his own plate.

“Do you have any cool stuff from Piltover?” Powder asked excitedly.

Your thumb absentmindedly rubs the place your ring used to be. “No, sadly I was mugged the second I stepped foot here.”

Vi scoffed. “Typical. You Piltovians all think you’re better than us, but you couldn’t even take care of your own stuff.”

“Yeah, silly me for letting those four guys take me out,” you shrugged. “Get all your facts straight before throwing around accusations.”

There was a suspicious sound of a laugh hidden by a cough coming from where Vander was sitting. Vi looked at you with shock and disgust as though you had just struck her. Powder looked between you and her sister as you started calmly eating your breakfast.

“Speaking of,” Vander said. “Your clothes are clean.” He took his plate to the sink behind him, setting it down. “Think you can handle this lot while I go get them?” he asked.

You looked at the girls before turning back to him. “I think we’ll be alright.”

Vander nodded and made his way down the stairs. Powder eyed you curiously. “Do you have a family? Do you miss them?” She asked.

“I…” You thought back to your life in the glorious upper city. All the pomp and circumstance. Your classroom. Your students. “I had my students,” you tell her. “Not a traditional family, I suppose.”

“You said you were a teacher,” Vi stated. “Wasn’t it boring?”

You laughed. “No, not at all. Sometimes, I suppose, but mostly? Every day was an adventure. You hear all kinds of things. I mean, think about it, I worked with other teachers and a bunch of kids.” You dragged a hand through your hair.

“You must know loads of stories!” Powder exclaimed. “Can you tell us one?”

You glanced over, seeing Vander coming back up the stairs with your folded clothes. “Maybe another time, kiddo,” you smiled.

Vander came over to you, setting your clothes on the bar. “There ya go. I couldn’t get every stain out, but I did my best.” He scooped up yours and the girls’ plates, moving to the sink. “I’ll get this cleaned up while you get dressed. We’ll open up the bar after,” he told you.

Vi led her younger sister downstairs as you picked up your clothes and headed the other way. “Thank you, Vander,” You said as you left.

“Anytime, lass,” he responded before you were out of earshot.

You took your clothes upstairs, shutting the door and pulling Vander’s shirt off. You folded it carefully and left it on the bed for him. Picking up your dress, you ran the fabric between your fingers. It was familiar, albeit still stained with some loose threads. But it was soft, and it was almost all you had from your earlier life.

Slowly, you brought the cloth to your face and took a deep breath, letting your eyes close. It smelled faintly of tobacco, but other than that had no scent. It didn’t smell like grime and body odor anymore. But it also didn’t smell like your detergent. It didn’t smell like your perfume. It didn’t smell like home anymore.

You took a heavy seat on the edge of the bed, feeling your eyes tear up. Home. That was no home anymore. You rubbed your eyes furiously; This was not the time for a breakdown. You inhaled deeply, though unsteady, until the rising tide of your emotions had receded back to the gently rocking waves of the sea.

You slipped your dress over your head, moving to the bathroom to adjust it in the mirror. Gently running your fingers through your hair, you parted it the way you liked, starting to twist the strands into dutch braids to keep it out of your face. You secured it carefully before pushing them back over your shoulders and tugging on your dress, feeling almost comfortable again. 

Your gaze drifted, settling on your tarot deck on that little bathroom shelf. Your hands braced the sink, fingers itching to reach out and do a reading. You missed the feeling of the cards between your fingers. You were used to shuffling them idly between your hands as a way to distract your mind.

But what’s the point?

With a sigh, you flicked off the bathroom light, letting the curtain drift closed behind you as you made to leave. When you opened the door, a pair of boots rested on the stair in front of you. You stared at them for a moment, remembering what Vander had said last night. These must be Vi’s extra pair.

You sat down in the doorway, pulling the boots on. They were a bit snug, but surprisingly comfortable and broken in. At the very least, they were warm and would keep your feet from getting trampled by customers. You had to remember to thank her when you next got the chance.

When you got downstairs, Vander had finished pulling the chairs off the tables and was behind the bar, organizing the drinks below. He looked up as you entered. “Ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you responded.

He chuckled. “You’ll be fine. Just… remember where you’re at,” he said carefully.

“Worried they won’t understand me if I use big words?” You joked.

“Yeah, yeah, you know what I mean.” He rolled his eyes, though his smile gave him away as he turned on the neon lights outside. He tossed you a worn apron, and you quickly tied it around you as you mapped out the bar to learn where things were.

-------------------------

Not even an hour in, the place was teeming with patrons. Vander had insisted it wouldn’t be too busy—just a “light evening”---but the roar of voices, clatter of tankards, and the occasional crash from a dropped glass said otherwise. You did your best to keep your stress levels down, reminding yourself you didn’t have to be perfect, you just had to get the job done. Everything would be fine. Hopefully.

You were balancing a tray of empty mugs, weaving between the raucous tables and trying to avoid bumping anyone as you walked, when a man barked at you from across the bar. “Oi lass! When are we getting more drinks over here?!” the man questioned, slamming his metal tankard down on the wood of his table.

You flinched from the sudden noise, one of the mugs on your tray tipping precariously. Your breath caught in your throat as you shifted, hand darting out to catch it and place it back on the tray carefully. You glared at the man, cursing under your breath as you hurried back to the bar. You dumped your tray down with a huff, your patience starting to wear thin as Vander prepared their drinks.

“Do they always yell like that?” You asked, resting against the counter with one hip popped.

“Only when they’re sober,” Vander replied, watching the drinks he made.

Your brows dropped and you gave him a dry look. “Oh, so this is normal?”

“Welcome to the Undercity, Princess,” he said, his smirk widening. “You learn to let it roll off. Comes with the territory.”

You crossed your arms on the bar as you waited for him to finish. “Well, I’m letting it roll off alright. Right into my mental list of people I’ll ‘accidentally’ spill drinks on.”

Vander chuckled, setting the bottles back under the counter, and finally looking at you. “Not sure you’ve the patience for this line of work.”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed. “And miss the chance to work under you? Never.”

His smirk turned into a full laugh as you started putting their drinks on your tray. “Careful, or I’ll start thinking you like it here.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small grin tugging at your lips. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, old man.”

He put a hand over his chest in mock hurt, winking at you as you walked away to serve the men their drinks. You balanced the tray carefully as you weaved through the crowd of tables again. You smiled as you reached their table, setting their drinks down in front of them. 

“Sorry for the wait boys,” you said as you tucked the tray under your arm. “Is there anything else I can get you for the moment?” You asked. 

The boy closest to you couldn’t be more than nineteen, though the rest looked to be in their thirties. “I know something you can get us, love,” The older man across from him said. “Or rather somethin’ you can take,” he elbowed the guy beside him, snickering. “Our boy Tommy here still has his virginity!” The table howled with laughter, but the young boy looked rather uncomfortable.

You fought the roll of your eyes, shooting an apologetic glance to Tommy before leaving, finding they were too engaged in their own joke to address you anymore. You found an empty table, clearing the drinks off it and balancing the tray in one hand as you wiped down the table with the other. 

You cast a final glance around the room checking for anyone who needed your attention before making your way behind the bar to wash some of the mugs that had started piling up. Vander was just serving drinks and talking to his customers. You vaguely wondered how many of them were regulars here and how long he had known them all. Regardless, he looked much to calm in this sea of faces and storm of demands.

As you set to washing the mugs, you spoke over your shoulder to him when he wasn’t engaged with someone else. “You make this look so easy. It’s almost offensive.”

Vander glanced over his shoulder, one hand still pouring a drink. “Years of practice, Princess. You’ll get there.”

You snorted, setting a mug on the drying rack. “If I don’t keel over first.”

“You’re holding up fine,” he said, passing the freshly poured drink to a customer and flashing a quick grin at you. “Though you missed a spot on that last mug.”

You froze mid-scrub, narrowing your eyes at him. “You’re joking.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied smoothly, already moving to grab another mug for a refill.

You quickly grabbed the offending tankard off the rack and squinted at it. Spotless. “Looks clean to me,” you muttered before glancing back at Vander. “You just like messing with me, don’t you?”

Vander shrugged, that infuriating smirk still playing on his lips. “Keeps things interesting.”

You rolled your eyes and dunked another mug into the soapy water. “You’re lucky you’ve got charm, old man. Otherwise I’d dump this water over your head.”

He chuckled, sliding another drink across the counter. “If that’s the best you’ve got, I’m not worried.”

“Don’t tempt me,” you shot back, a small grin tugging at your lips despite yourself.

His teasing was cut short by another customer slamming a mug down, demanding a refill. Vander gave you a wink before turning back to the crowd, leaving you to pick up your tray and go see what trouble was in store this time.

“Dickhead,” you muttered under your breath.

You moved across the floor to one of the tables by the entrance, smiling at the man drinking alone. A flash of blue and pink caught your eye as Vi and Powder ran past the windows. You couldn’t help the way your chest squeezed when you saw them. Happy and almost carefree kids. You hoped it would stay that way.

You turned your attention to the man, a cigar hanging out of his mouth as he spoke around it. “I’d heard Vander took the Pilty in off the streets, but I couldn’t believe it until I’d seen it for myself.” He sat forward, taking his cigar between his fingers and blowing smoke in your face.

You let your breath catch until it dispersed so you didn’t cough and make a fool of yourself. “Quite,” you said simply. You didn’t like the way this felt, and you wanted to get out of this conversation as fast as possible. Your gut had never steered you wrong before, you weren’t about to stop listening to it now. “Is there anything I can get you, sir?” You asked.

“A ride if you’re selling it, sweetheart,” he grinned, and you felt dirty. Disgusting.

“I’ll have to decline,” you said with a forced smile. His eyes roved over your form. It was common for men to have this kind of reaction to any woman, especially one of such refinement. They just couldn’t wait to get their hands on them and corrupt them like some twisted right of passage. “If that’s all, I’m sure others need my attention.”

He huffed a laugh, “Yeah, I’m sure they do,” he licked his cracked lips before putting the smoke back between them.

You fought the twitch of your lip as it tried to become a sneer. Without saying anything else, you headed back behind the bar. Though you made sure to keep composed and completely masked, Vander’s eyes darted over you as you set your tray down.

“Y’alright?” He asked quietly as you moved to the sink.

“Yeah. I’m fine,” you told him, picking up the mug you had dropped before and resuming your task. You could feel his eyes on you still, and you refused to meet his gaze. “Really,” you assured him.

You were almost certain he didn’t believe you, but he also didn’t press about it, turning back to the bar and serving someone else.

--------------------------

Finally, after what felt like an endless nightmare, the last straggler had left the bar and Vander flipped the signs off. You huffed out, practically deflating as you untied your apron and hung it up on the far wall next to the bar. The kids had come back a few hours ago and gone downstairs, and you watched as Vander locked the place up for the night.

You moved to the small closet where you grabbed the broom and started sweeping the wooden floors. Your feet and back ached from the work. Luckily, you had found a few minutes earlier to grab a bite to eat so you weren’t overly hungry. 

You and Vander worked around each other as he wiped down the tables and started putting chairs up for the night. When he finished with the tables and chairs, he moved behind the bar to count coins. 

“So, is this the glamorous nightlife of Zaun I’ve heard so much about? Dusty floors and sticky counters?” You asked him.

He didn’t look up as he spoke. “Better than wherever you came from, I’d bet.”

You scoffed, leaning against the handle of the broom. “Oh, absolutely. Who needs fancy parties and clean air when you’ve got rat traps in every corner?”

He chuckled. “You’re getting the hang of it, though. Starting to look less like a lost little princess.”

You paused with mock offense. “Is that a compliment?”

He finally glanced up at you with a wry grin. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

You grinned back, “Too late,” you said, going back to your task until you felt you had finished.

Once the two of you had settled down you sat at the bar and Vander poured himself a drink. “Can I get you anything?” He flashed you the same smile he gave his customers, and you rolled your eyes.

“Just give me whatever you’re having,” you said with a dismissive wave of the hand.

He raised a brow but said nothing as he filled two glasses halfway with a dark amber liquor, sliding one over to you before pulling a stool around to sit facing you. He lifted his glass to you, and you clinked yours against it with a tired smile.

“To my new life,” you toasted.

“Cheers,” Vander said before taking a drink.

You tipped your head back, feeling the liquid burn down your throat, a bitter, woody taste in your mouth. Your lips and nose screwed up in a scowl, and Vander laughed.

“You should see your face,” he said.

“I’ve seen less pleasant things,” you joked as the burn in your throat faded.

“I’ll drink to that,” Vander responded, draining his glass.

You pushed yours away with a frown. “I won’t.”

He chuckled again, “More for me,” he said, taking your glass and pulling it toward him. After a moment of not completely uncomfortable silence, he spoke again. “Despite your griping, you’re good with the people,” he observed.

“Comes with the territory I guess,” you shrugged. “All the politics up top and my job…” you trailed off.

Vander stroked a hand over his beard as he swirled the glass idly. “A teacher, eh?” He asked. “Did you like it?”

You sighed. “It was the best part of my life,” you told him, that faraway look taking over your expression. “Those kids… they were everything to me.”

He nodded in understanding. “They’re all the more foolish to let you go,” he said, tipping his head back and draining your glass. You looked down at your hands folded in your lap, fighting to keep all your emotions you’d been white-knuckling at bay. “You don’t have to talk about it,” he said. “But you can if you want to.”

“I think it’s best left in the past, now.”

A/N: Let me know if you enjoyed! And as always, let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

Have a good day/afternoon/night, my loves! <3

Tag List: @growls-like-thunder @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @hwalovs

Banner by @/cafekitsune

POSER! ; jeon wonwoo

level twenty three : my evil mandarin warrior twin

mlist | prev ; next

🗯️ bro ur guys’ comments last chap were taking me out😭🙏 like i only wrote that cs my friend fell down the stairs

[🏷️] @miumura @juyeoz @codeinebelle @leehsngs @meowtella @i03jae @tastyluvr @leahhhher @02shuuu @luvlykiki @starshuas @potabletable @ivehypnosis @tacosandbitch @heeheesang @elegancefr @paradiseoflosers @bibblemiluvr @lovekyr @mikemorningstar

love earned, not given | never know part 2 | choi seungcheol

✨ pairing: idol!seungcheol x idol!fem!reader ✨ genre: angst ✨ summary: it's been two years since seungcheol betrayed you and two years since you saved his career. you're both struggling as you learn to forgive someone who has hurt you. ✨ read part 1 here! ✨background info: -i wanted the girl group y/n is part of to be small so i just chose blackpink LOL. the other 3 members of this group are named kiki, jia, and halle! -y/n is 4 years younger than cheol- she's dino's age. -their group (blackpink) debuted 2 years after seventeen ✨ a/n: oh my goodness yall. why is this the longest fic I've ever written in my whole life. this is my child, i'll never feel prouder of any of my other works than this one. this took 5000 years to write- to all the authors that write 10k+ fics, im dedicating this story to you bc idk how yall do it. ✨ disclaimers: you guys already know this is NOT how I see Seungcheol, how I perceive his role in svt, how I perceive his attitude towards women, and how I perceive him as an artist. he's merely just a placeholder for this story. i love cheol so so much he's such a beautiful human and I want to make you all know this story is completely fictional. I purposefully left out what he said because it is up to your imagination. if you're interested, dm me as i had originally written it in the story but decided to remove it so it doesn't distract from the plot!

The crowd cheers, deafening screams as Seungcheol waves goodbye with a huge smile on his face. 

The second the stage screen door closes, Seungcheol’s hand drops with a deep sigh. He mechanically turns to the flurry of staff who help him remove his mic pack, eyes blank and heart heavy. When they’re done, he walks away, running a hand through his hair. 

His group mates noticed the change in their leader the day it started. They don’t understand why he’s been acting the way he has been for the past 2 two years. Sure, he was acting quiet throughout all of dance practice, song recordings, music video records, and everything else they’ve needed to do in Korea but they thought he would’ve cheered up by now, especially since they're back on tour after almost 3 years.

It’s actually the opposite.

Seungcheol has gotten worse. 

He shows up to his idol work like a robot, like he's not passionate about everything he worked so hard for before.

Everyone watches him walk away, not doing much to stop him. “Alright, I’m going to force it out of him,” Jeonghan says with determination, lightly jogging to catch up with Cheol. Jeonghan eventually corners Seungcheol, and before he can get a word out, Jeonghan places a hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t want to hear it, Cheol. We’ve given you your space, but we’re worried about you. At least tell me what’s going on. It’s been 2 years since you’ve turned into this zombie. You’re like a stranger to us,” Jeonghan says softly with kind eyes.

Jeonghan has been Cheol’s closest friend in the group. He knows he can trust him. But Cheol has been keeping this to himself because it would mean admitting the truth about who he is. He’s so ashamed of everything he said two years ago. He was younger and stupider, but it’s no excuse for how he hurt you. 

“Cheol, please. Please talk to me,” Jeonghan begs.

Cheol closes his eyes and hits the back of his head against the wall.

“2 years ago at the MAMA award show, I was talking with Dongmin about Y/n from Blackpink and it got super intense and I got carried away and said uh…”

Jeonghan raises his eyebrows, not sure where this is going. 

“Some really, really, really shitty things about her. I don’t feel like repeating it. Turns out she heard me because she happened to be walking in the area and to make everything worse, someone fucking recorded me and downloaded it onto a flash drive. Pledis found out before I did because a picture of the flash drive was sent to my manager. Then we found out the flash drive was given to y/n.”

Jeonghan would have never guessed that this is what’s gotten Cheol so locked up. He’s utterly surprised but stays silent and keeps his face neutral.

“I went to go see her myself, to beg for her not to make the recording go public because it would genuinely ruin me. But, do you know what she did with the flash drive instead, Han?”

Jeonghan can see the tears in Seungcheol’s eyes, hanging on to his waterline.

“She fucking destroyed it.” Cheol pauses, suddenly gasping for air as his shoulders begin shaking. “She, she- she crushed it to pieces,” he says, sobbing.

Jeonghan reaches forward but Cheol holds his hands up.

“There were no other copies; that was the only proof of what I said. And she destroyed it. She told me that I’d continue to have a successful career because no one would ever know what I’m really like. And I've been living with this guilt for years.”

Cheol takes deep breaths to control his sudden breakdown.

“Every time I get on stage, I remember that I’d have nothing if she chose to go public with that recording. She could’ve destroyed me and I would've deserved it. Sometimes I wish she did. Because I don’t deserve any of this. These fans, this career, the money, the fame, the luxury- it means nothing to me because I am a bad person. And I hurt someone. I can’t live like this. I’m swimming in guilt but don’t deserve forgiveness so what if it’s like this forever?”

Cheol can’t even look up, afraid that his longest friend would judge him for his actions.

“Cheol,” Jeonghan says gently. Seungcheol looks up with blotchy eyes. “I think you need to see her again. It’s been long enough- maybe the two of you can have a conversation- a productive one where you can show her that you’ve grown. You’re not that person anymore and you’re willing to make it right. Don’t let your guilt end your career. You were saved once. You may not be so lucky next time.”

-

The other three members of your group have no idea what you’ve been going through for the past two years. When you told Seungcheol no one would ever know about what he said, you meant it. You’ve been bottling up your pain and sadness for all this time and pouring it into your work. Blackpink has seen even more success with two new complete albums but you refuse to let yourself rest. If you’re not writing new songs or producing them, you’re choreographing dances for other younger groups. 

Seventeen’s success these past two years has also been incredible. Three new comebacks all well received. Sold out concerts all across North America and Asia. Numerous awards won. You can’t really bring yourself to be happy for them when you know just how close they were to potentially not having any of it.

Much to your dismay, your group has become closer to Seventeen, but you have made it a point to excuse yourself from going to any dinners or hangouts with any of the members of Seventeen. It’s a running joke that they don’t remember what you look like because it’s been so long since they’ve physically seen you. The only members you’re actively friends with from Seventeen are Hoshi and Vernon. When you need help with choreography ideas, you turn to Hoshi who knows just the missing piece to your routine. When you need extra input on a piece you produced, you turn to Vernon, knowing just how much his fresh perspective can complete your song. And even though they’re some of your closest friends outside your group, you refuse to confide in them about just exactly why you can’t join them for a group dinner or why you can’t go to Seungkwan’s apartment for drinks. 

Truth is, you’re afraid. You’re afraid to see Seungcheol in person because you know you’ll fall apart. So much time has passed, but it scares you that you’ll still see him in the same light. Your perception of him is permanently altered, so much so that being in the same room as him will make it difficult for you to be yourself.

On this rainy night, you’re holed up in your studio, mixing your groupmate Halle’s recording with the beats you produced the other day. 

Tomorrow, you and your group are appearing on a variety show with all of Seventeen. You tried your hardest to get out of it, making up lame excuses, trying to set up overlapping appointments and nothing worked. It was time to face the music at last. 

-

“Ughhhhhhhh, I can’t believe our call time is at 5! What the hell?” your other groupmate Kiki groans, rubbing her eyes. The four of you are all groggily standing outside the makeup room in your various pajamas, having literally rolled out of bed and into the car that brought you here. 

Your group is extremely talented and very hardworking but even after all these years, you never get used to the early mornings. You used to constantly fight over who had to get makeup done first and eventually decided that it wasn’t fair for one person to be up earlier than everyone else.  Now you all wake up at the same time and sit around and try not to fall asleep while waiting your turn. 

You love these girls so much. They’re your sisters, your family, and you’d do anything to protect them. 

Three hours later, you’re all glammed up and dressed up. After Seungcheol’s comments, you decided to no longer wear revealing outfits- choosing baggy shirts or longer skirts over the more… form-fitting stage outfits you’re used to wearing. But today, if you’re going to see him, you need him to know that his comments have not affected you and your choices. So here you are in a very sexy, according to your other groupmate Jia, matching top and pants set that shows off your lower back tattoos and skin in all the right places. 

You’d be lying if you said you were feeling 100% confident. In fact, you were sweating behind the knees- stomach churning, fingers fidgeting. 

Seventeen has already sat down into teams, and you and your group would be joining based on predetermined pairings. You’re with Hoshi and Seungkwan thankfully- two people you’re very comfortable with so everything should be okay. 

Introductions are being made as each one of you steps out from behind a curtain, dancing to one of your songs. You’re going last, so you have a lot of time to mentally hype yourself up to the fact that you are about to be in the same room as Choi Seungcheol for the next eight hours. 

“And last but not least, the leader of Blackpink. She’s not only an extremely talented rapper and singer but she’s Blackpink’s producer and choreographer. But it doesn’t stop there! She’s choreographed over fifteen ensembles for her fellow peers in K-pop! Talk about a triple threat! So let’s welcome, the one, the only, Y/N!!!!!!”

The staff, the host, your groupmates, and Seventeen cheer as you come out from the curtain smiling and waving before immediately dancing to some of the choreo from one of the songs playing. Once you reach the middle of the room, you bow and wave to the staff, host, and cameras, before doing the same to everyone you walk past to reach Hoshi and Seungkwan. You don’t look up.

-

Seungcheol keeps his face neutral when you make your appearance from behind the curtain. 

Time has been quite good to you. 

You’re even more gorgeous than when he last saw you. Your hair is much longer, your makeup light but perfect for your features. And your outfit. Damn, your outfit accentuates all the right parts of you body but Seungcheol shakes his head of these thoughts. Afterall, it is comments about your body that got him in trouble in the first place. 

Despite the pretty smile on your face, he notices your eyes are quite dull. You look… sad. He can’t imagine how you must feel being in his presence again. He knows you’ve avoided hangouts with Seventeen on purpose. In the two years since the incident, he has not seen you in person once. Your absence is a consequence of his actions. All the dinners and games and moments you could’ve spent with everyone have been flushed down the toilet on your end. Your decision to not be around him lets him know that you have not forgiven him. That you are still hurt and ashamed and betrayed by his words. 

It’s a message to him and to him only. That you will punish yourself over and over if it means being away from him. But this variety show was an obligation- something you couldn’t avoid. So he does his best to steer clear and keep his distance. 

Seungcheol doesn’t notice Jeonghan’s eyes on him, his shiny eyes meaningless to everyone else, but not to him. 

-

After a long day of filming, you head to the break room to grab a water while everyone mingles with each other. Today was quite hard. Despite the games you played with Hoshi and Seungkwan as the best people to be on a team with, you had to deal with Seungcheol talking and laughing. Your only consolation was that he was on the other side of the room and you didn’t need to interact with him.

Chugging the water, you fan yourself as you realize your body is overheating from stress. 

Turning around to head back to the filming area, you come face to face with Seungcheol.

Your face falls, and your heart sinks to your stomach. 

Face to face with him for the first time in two years, you take a long look at him. Long black hair, styled perfectly to sweep along his ears. Face still as handsome as the day he begged for your discretion with the recording. Thick eyebrows, chiseled facial features, kind eyes. He’s wearing a white baggy t-shirt that somehow hugs his thick arms. Have his arms always been that big? You shake your head of your thoughts and take a step back.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, finally breaking the silence. 

“I uh wanted to talk to you,” he answers sheepishly.

You let out a small dry laugh and look away, running your hands through your hair trying to plan how you can get out of this conversation. 

“Look, I know my word doesn’t hold much to you, but I’m really sorry, Y/N. I really genuinely am. I have been beating myself up about it all this time. I don’t know why I said what I said and I can’t take it back. But I want you to know that I really want to work on making this right,” Seungcheol says all in one breath. 

Silence permeates the room again as he waits for you to say something. Anything.

“You’re wrong, you know,” you say quietly. “Your words hold a lot to me.”

Seungcheol feels the world crush at his feet. He should’ve known better. He’s been in the industry for a little longer than you have and as your senior, he should’ve known that you looked to him and the rest of Seventeen for mentorship. 

“How can I make this right?” he pleads, suddenly feeling hopeless. It’s in Seungcheol’s nature to not leave anything unresolved. He needs an answer to this. 

“Seungcheol…seeing you has reminded me of what I’ve been trying so hard to forget.” You can’t look at him when you say what you’re about to say because you know you’ll start crying. And you haven’t cried in front of him and you’re not about to start today. 

“...I can’t forgive you. That would mean accepting your words and allowing myself to brush aside my feelings.”

“Y/n, please. What can I do or say to make this right? There has to be a way.” His eyes are pleading, full of desperation and agony.

“Nothing, Seungcheol. I can’t absolve you of your guilt and I’m sorry if you thought two years would change things.”

There’s an ocean of space between the two of you. Seungcheol has been swimming to reach you but he’s drowning now.

“How do I live with this?” he asks you quietly after a long period of silence.

You look him in the eyes, surprised to see the tears sitting on his waterline. 

But you stand your ground.

“You just do.”

-

Is holding on to this anger good for you?

You ask yourself this question every day. Life has ultimately been so dreary and grey since this situation with Seungcheol happened. When you destroyed the flash drive with the recording, you thought you’d forget everything he said, but it turns out you remember everything—word for word.

You don’t realize you’re crying until you feel a tear hit your hand.

When will you stop crying about this? It’s been two years, for god’s sake. The pain has been endless, and it’s only hurting you over and over. And the worst part is you can’t talk to anyone about it- even your groupmates. You don’t want anyone’s perception of Seungcheol to change. 

It’s been a week since you saw Seungcheol again and if your friends thought you were a recluse before, you’re even more reserved now. It’s another long night at your studio and you’re dozing off, too lazy to go back home when you hear a soft knock on your door. 

Completely alert now, you hesitate as you walk towards the door. 

You’re not expecting anyone and you know Kiki is back home with her family, Halle is at her boyfriend’s house, and Jia is out of the country for a brand deal. No one else on your team tends to stay late on a Friday, so there’s genuinely no one you know who would want to see you. 

Apprehensive and tense, you open the door and come face to face with… Jeonghan? 

After a few awkward greetings, Jeonghan takes a seat across from you and tilts his head as if reading you. 

“Why are you here?” 

“I know what’s happened between you and Cheol,” he says with kind eyes and a small smile.

You freeze. 

“What do you know?”

“I know he said something to you that would’ve ruined his whole career if anyone found out. He won’t tell me what he said though.”

“Okay, so what do you want?”

“Y/n… in all the years I’ve known Cheol, I have never seen him like this. I don’t know what to do because no one else knows. So I’m here for a lifeline. When Cheol first told me everything, I was very disappointed. As his friend, I struggled for days about how someone I grew up with could’ve hidden this dark side of himself. It’s not really my place to forgive him or judge him because this has nothing to do with me but I’m concerned about how this is going to continue. How do you feel about all of this?”

“I feel like shit Jeonghan. I think about what he said every single day and there are times when I get sad about it and then there are times when I get so upset that I just want to strangle Seungcheol. These past two years have been hell so I don’t need you to come here and tell me how bad Seungcheol has it. I don’t care.”

Jeonghan sighs. You’re very stubborn, he’ll give you that. 

“I just think you might feel better if you talked with him longer. You let him know how upset you are and maybe the two of you can work towards forgiveness?”

“It shouldn’t be on me,” you say quietly. “You can’t come here and ask this of me just because your friend is sad. What about me? If you knew what came out of his mouth that day, you wouldn’t be here.” You will yourself not to cry again. “It is not my job to make him feel better.”

“You’re going to be sad forever, y/n. There needs to be some resolution, even if you won’t ever talk to him again. What you gave him last week wasn’t a resolution.”

Now you’re seething in anger. 

“How dare you come here and tell me to forgive your friend under the guise of it making me feel better. There was a resolution, you asshole. I told him that I’m not forgiving him,  and sometimes that’s the way life goes. It is not fair that I have to forgive Seungcheol for slut shaming me and degrading me and sexualizing me. I already did the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do! I destroyed the evidence in this very room! Seungcheol didn’t even have to beg. I did it without him asking. He should be jumping over rainbows and dancing in the stars because there’s no proof anymore that he’s a complete fucking jerk! And I won’t let you come here and beg either.”

Jeonghan watches as anger warps your face, tears stream down your cheeks. He’s been so worried about Seungcheol that he’s honestly never thought about what exactly his friend actually said to you. He’s gotten some hints from your rant just now and he finally sees you for who you are. 

Yes, you’re the Y/n. Producer, songwriter, rapper, singer, dancer, choreographer. But you’re a woman. You’re 25. Still so young. You were strong and brave for handling this whole situation with Seungcheol when you were only 23 and you’re still strong and brave now, even as you sink to the floor and bury your face in your hands, sobbing. 

Jeonghan stands up and kneels next to you, pulling you into his arms. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers as he lets you cry into his shoulder. 

- 

In your emotional state, Jeonghan ends up driving you home, even coming inside to press ice packs to your swollen face. Neither of you says a word, not even when he tucks you into your bed. 

“Just promise me you’ll consider talking to Cheol. Give yourself an ending. You’re going to keep suffering if you don’t. And trust me, we’ve all noticed your absence at our hangouts. We’re worried about you,” Jeonghan whispers before you leave.

-

You’re not quite sure what you’re doing here. The dark clouds and strong winds feel like a premonition of what’s to come. 

Knock knock

The door opens and Seungcheol stands still with his mouth completely open- shocked that you of all people, would willingly show up at his apartment. 

“Hey, uh what are you doing here?” Seungcheol asks once he’s done gaping. 

“I don’t know,” you answer truthfully with a sigh. 

“Do you want to come in? I can make you tea?” he offers sheepishly. “Sure.”

Taking off your shoes and handing your coat to Seungcheol, you apprehensively walk down the hallway deeper into the apartment. You’re greeted by a medium-sized chunky white dog who slowly walks up to you. 

“This is Kkuma,” Seungcheol says from behind you. “She’s a little shy at first but she’s very friendly, I promise.” You kneel down to be closer to Kkuma’s level and she immediately jumps into your lap, sniffing your arms before curling up into them. You lightly laugh, patting her soft head. Seungcheol is surprised. Kkuma doesn’t easily warm up to people she’s never met before. Huh.

You play with Kkuma for a bit while Seungcheol prepares some drinks. The way Kkuma is sniffing you and constantly licking your face makes you think she knows you’re sad. And even when Seungcheol returns with two mugs in his hands, Kkuma never leaves your side. 

The two of you sit on opposite ends of the couch. Still an ocean between you. This time you’re both floating. The ocean is still.

Is forgiveness still on the table? 

Is forgiveness in your heart?

You know it’s not. Not completely. Not yet.

“Why did you say those things about me?” you ask quietly, breaking the silence. This is the question you’ve been asking yourself all this time. What did you do that prompted Seungcheol to have this perception of you? You’re afraid that other people think this of you. 

Seungcheol doesn’t answer right away. 

“I think I was just… talking out of my ass. I didn’t know you that well and was jealous that you had reached levels of success that we took twice as long to reach. I just wanted something to blame, to justify why you and your group were doing so much better than us. You know I’m Seventeen’s leader, but I’m one of the weaker dancers, I don’t produce music, and I can’t rap as well as the others. But you’re Blackpink’s leaders and you do all of that and more. I was undermining you to an extreme level. And I’m sorry. I really am. I know I’ve said it so many times, but really. None of our subsequent success means anything to me because I hurt you when you didn’t deserve it, and you saved me when I didn’t deserve it. 

I think about you all the time. I think about what you’ve been going through. How you hide from the world, only showing up for comebacks. How you never join your group for interviews, how you don’t join us for hangouts, how you never go on variety shows or music release parties. I hate that I’ve made you feel like you’re worth nothing, that I stripped you of all your talents and achievements and attributed them to something extremely inappropriate. I want to make this right even if it means severing our connection to each other. Even if we never speak again. Even if I never see you again. Sure, I’m sad and depressed, but I know that you probably feel even worse having to live with this secret.”

Seungcheol can’t even look at you, too ashamed as he comes to terms with his actions. 

He suddenly stands and gets down on both knees in front of you. He looks you directly in your eyes, taking your hands in his. 

“I’m sorry, I just want to make sure you know.” He holds your intertwined hands as he bows his head and cries.

You look up at the ceiling. You came here to tonight because for the first time in two years, you’ve been open to forgiveness. It is not your job or responsibility to forgive. If someone hurts you, you don’t owe them anything. Forgiveness shouldn’t be the only way to feel lighter because you remember all the nights you spent crying, throwing up, lying awake, all because of the words Seungcheol said. You owe it to your heart to be true to what you want. And in this very moment, you just want to put this all behind you. You don’t want any more sleepless nights because of this. 

There’s a man on his knees telling you he’s sorry, and for the first time, you’re ready to take it at face value. 

You squeeze Seungcheol’s hands back. 

- 

It’s 4 in the morning and you’re fast asleep on Seungcheol’s couch with Kkuma curled up on your stomach. Seungcheol emerges from the kitchen and quietly lifts Kkuma up before returning to you. He brushes some hair out of your face and softly caresses your cheek with the back of his hand.

He wonders if you always look this peaceful when sleeping. 

Lifting you in his arms, Seungcheol brings you to his room, tucking you into his bed. He grabs a few pillows so he can sleep on the couch, but you grip his wrist. 

“Stay.”

Ain’t No Rockstar

A/N: It felt like this took me forever to write. But I solved all my problems with it and I’ve decided I’m gonna turn it into a series. Maybe give it one or two more parts, we’ll see. If you lovely people could, I would appreciate it if you could send me gifs cause they never want to load on my wifi. I’m changing a bunch of stuff, like my color and profile pics because I felt like it, and my masterlist is gonna get redone. Just wanted to let you guys know about that before it happens. Requests are open, so send ‘em in and I hope you guys enjoy.

*~~*~~*

Masterlist

Slash x Reader

Requested by Anonymous

Part 1 of 3 (Maybe)

Summary: Y/n was nothing more than a stressed out makeup artist, at least that all she thought she was. It turns out that she was more than that to one member of the band she was working for. Not only would she have to navigate both his and her feelings, but she would also have to find the courage to seize what she wanted before it disappeared.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Long as hell, language, alcohol, mention of drugs

The smell of hairspray mixed with smoke filled her nostrils as Y/n tested out the bottle. She was going through hairspray like crazy and it didn’t help that half of the bottles wouldn’t work. Pressing the nozzle down, she waited for the sheer mist to appear before turning back to the person sitting in front of her. 

Doing hair and makeup had never been her ideal job. Though, when asked what job that might be, she had no answer. All she knew was what wouldn’t make her happy. She’d learned that running wasn’t for her, neither was waiting tables, and that coffee wasn’t the best drink in the world while yellow didn’t please her eyes. But when she was asked what was for her, what drink was best, and what color pleased her eyes, her mind would go blank. How was she supposed to know the answer to any of those? She’d barely experienced life, She was at the beginning of a journey that had yet to begin.

Y/n sighed as she thought about her “shortcomings”– as her mother called them. Playing with the auburn hair in front of her, she shaped and teased it to the height she wanted before spraying it with the can in hand. 

Y/n looked at the man sitting in front of her through the mirror, “Is that high enough, Axl?”

Axl didn’t even bother to look, too engrossed by the conversation he was having with his bandmates to care about his hair, and Y/n sighed.  Grabbing the comb off the vanity in front of them, she decided that the hair hadn’t been teased high enough. He would bitch either way: it was either too high or too low. Nevertheless, she began to run the comb against his hair, spraying it as she went along, the toxic mist hitting her in the face as she went along.

Y/n may not have known what she wanted to do with her life, but one thing she knew for sure was that she didn’t want to deal with rock stars. Glancing at the men around her, she reflected on their dark leather jackets, ripped jeans, ‘I-don’t-care’ attitudes, and wasn’t sure how people put up with them. In her mind, they were like crows. Screeching at the most random of times and doing whatever they pleased, not caring who it upset. Never once in her time of getting them ready for shows or photoshoots had she seen them drink something that wasn’t intoxicating, or manage to stay out of trouble. They were the outcasts, the black cats that people were wary about, and with good reason.

Being outcasts didn’t matter to her, though. Not when they were such assholes. If they weren’t busy pissing each other off, they were pissing everyone else off. On multiple occasions, stylists, photographers, and assistants had quit because they could no longer handle the group. Vices stacked against them or not, they weren’t a bunch of innocent schoolboys, anyone who thought so was a fool. 

“I look like a fucking poodle,” Axl grunted, looking up for the first time and wincing at his appearance. Y/n rolled her eyes, combing out some of the hair. “It’s too big! I don’t want to look like I borrowed a wig from Dolly Parton!”

Her jaw set as a fake smile crossed on her lips and she nodded. “Lower then.”

He smiled. “Yes, lower.”

The smile disappeared once she went back to work, trying to comb out his unruly hair. As she brushed the hair back down, she couldn’t help but think about her shortcomings. It wasn’t that she failed to know what brought her joy, it was all the things she wanted to do. The things that were just out of reach. At one time, she wanted to learn how to surf but that idea went away when she took on the job as a makeup artist. All the time that she thought she had vanished once she started applying people’s makeup and styling their hair. Before that, she had wanted to learn to dance. Her mother had been a ballet dancer, performing for large crowds throughout Europe and the US. The dream of dancing, ballet or not, faded when she realized she couldn’t afford the classes. Time and money were never on her side, nor had they ever been. The only dreams she still held firmly to were ‘foolish’ ones, ones that would get a good laugh from her mother, who had seen the world, and the men around her, who didn’t care.

Touching up the combed out hair, she finally set the hairspray and comb down. 

“How about that?” she asked, stepping back to look at her work herself.

He shrugged, “It’ll have to do, I guess.”

Axl stood from the chair and walked over to the couch. Sitting down, he snatched a bottle of whiskey off the table in front of him and drank it as though it were water. Whatever nerves he was trying to numb was nothing in comparison to the stress that was bubbling up inside of her. A drink, a nice, long, refreshing drink that would wash away her problems was what she needed. Anything at all, any fix, permanent or not was what she yearned for.

Y/n turned her attention to the supplies in front of her. Axl was the last of the boys she had to do, meaning it was time for her to pack up and leave and she sure as hell wasn’t complaining, even though she wasn’ going that far. . They were on tour and this was just one of the many photo shoots they’d be doing, with a show a few hours later that she’d need to get them ready for. She picked up the combs and brushes, dropping them into a bag for her to sort out later, before shoving eyeliner and powder into her makeup case, not caring if they were in their correct spots. 

“Are you gonna stay for the show tonight?” Saul asked, fiddling with his cigarette in one hand, a bottle of Jack Daniels in the other.

She shook her head in response, not bothering to turn around. 

“Why not? It’s not like you have anything better to do.”

Y/n sighed, shutting the makeup case after checking the counter to make sure she didn’t leave anything out, “I can think of a million other things I’d rather do than watch your show.”

Axl scoffed, earning a snicker from Steve and Duff.

 “Like what? It’s not like you do that much around here. I’m sure organizing your bags-” He gestured to the case she had in front of her. “-will take all night.”

The sarcasm in his voice burned in her ears. Out of all the people in the world, she got stuck doing their makeup…stuck doing the makeup for overgrown children. 

“Whatever,” Y/n  said, grabbing her makeup case and hair bag before walking out of the room. She could also think of a million other places she’d rather be.

When she was out of sight, Saul turned to his friends, disappointment in his eyes, “Why’d you have to do that?”

Confused faces looked back at him. 

“She puts up with our shit all the time, can’t you guys give her a break for once?”

Duff raised a brow. They all were aware of how much they stressed those around them out. Hell, they stressed each other out. But they never cared. As friends, they just brushed it off and when it came to other people, they expected them to do the same. It wasn’t like they were going to change their ways anytime soon. 

“You want us-” The blonde pointed to everyone. “-to give her a break?”

 He spoke each word slowly, trying to make sure his friend understood his question. Making sure he understood the question he had been asked.

Saul nodded, brushing black coils out of his face. “Yeah.”

Just as he was about to ask why the answer hit him like a ton of bricks. Duff drew in a breath, his jaw dropping. He hadn’t thought of it before, never once had it crossed his mind, but looking back now, it made sense, “You like her!”

It was hard for him to deny the accusation when he felt his cheeks burn. Silence wasn’t going to get him anywhere, so he nodded. “Maybe I do.”

Axl shook his head. “And we’re now just hearing about this!?!”

Saul didn’t know what to say. Y/n had a million reasons she wasn’t going to the show and he had a million reasons as to why he’d never shared the information before. He looked down at his hands, avoiding the eyes burning him. 

“It’s not like it matters anyway. She’s clearly disgusted by us.”

The words stung coming off his tongue but they were true. He saw the way she looked at them, saw the glances through the mirror. She wasn’t impressed by them like the millions of other girls were. In her eyes, they were probably nothing more then flies–annoying creatures that only made her job more difficult. They were a pain in the ass and if she didn’t need the money, he knew she would have no problem parting ways with the band. 

“I would be, too. Have you seen how greasy Izzy’s hair gets?” Steven commented from the other side of the room. 

Izzy glared at him while Saul shook his head.

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.” Leaning back, he stared at the ceiling. “She sees us as drug addicts, just like the rest of the population. She wouldn’t want anything to do with any one of us outside of work.”

“You don’t know that. She may be hopped up on drugs like the rest of us,” Duff tried to assure him. 

“Whatever,” he sighed. “Just forget I didn’t mention it.”

*~~*~~*

Y/n heaved a sigh, lifting her makeup case into a compartment on the tour bus. When everything was put away, she took a seat around the tiny table the bus had to offer. Laying her head on the cold surface, she closed her eyes.

Everything was unusually quiet. There were no people bustling around outside, moving equipment and instruments, no fans screaming like the world was ending, no nothing. For once she escaped the madness that normally encased her like a cacoon. Any peace and quiet she could get while on tour she would take. Everyone, besides the band, felt that way when they weren’t around. Silence was a god’s send to those that were busting their ass, trying to make the shows run smoothly. 

In the silence, she could almost picture what her life used to look like. Scenes of stirring a bowl of cake batter with her mother next to her, played behind her eyelids, as  Mozart’s “Der Hölle Rache” played softly in the background. Memories like those sweet, gentle, moments like that were ones she missed. Sadly, those were gone, blowing away in the wind, left in their place were rough and wild moments that rushed together, colliding in violent fights. Nothing she would want to remember, let alone look back on during moments of peace.

“Rough day?”

Y/n opened her eyes, lifting her head to see Jessica, one of the sound techs, open the fridge and pull out a water bottle. She shrugged, “No rougher than usual.”

“They’re a lot to handle, though.” Jessica tossed Y/n a water before opening her own. “I’m impressed you’ve lasted this long. The last makeup artist lasted, oh, maybe three weeks.”

Y/n toyed with the water bottle, processing the information. Her third week working for the band was also the week that she had contemplated quitting almost every day. It was just a long enough period of time to know the boys enough but not enough, causing false assumptions. Though many of her assumptions were true, a longer period was needed for her to fully adjust to their wild behavior. That’s probably why the last makeup artist quit, they hadn’t given themselves enough time to get used to the wild and restless. She didn’t think anyone would be able to get used to their behavior, only block it out.

“I’m not sure how much longer I can last, though,” She said with a sigh. “I enjoy what I do, really, but it’s just… I don’t know.” She shook her head, “They frustrate me to no end. Either their hair is too flat, too greasy, or too high. Too this, too that. It doesn’t even matter, they just like to complain.”

Jessica chuckled, a slight smile forming on her lips. “It sounds like you need a drink. Something a little stronger than water.”

“No kidding.”

“Don’t let them get to you, Y/n. As hard as it may seem, you just need to focus on the task at hand, not those that make the task harder. You know what I mean?”

Y/n nodded, opening her water and taking a sip. “Yeah, I get what you mean.”

“Good,” Jessica smiled. “Cause they are clearly stressing you out and stress isn’t good for anyone. Plus, my mother says it causes wrinkles and no one wants those.”

Y/n shook her head, her lips tugging into a smile as Jessica left her in peace. 

Maybe the boys were stressing her out. The thought had never crossed her mind, she was always too focused on making them look perfect to notice. But upon further inspection, it made sense. The overwhelmed, anxious feeling that always lingered in her chest hours after she was finished with her work and the tossing and turning she did at night were dead giveaways to the stress she was under. If she looked in the mirror, she was sure that there would be bags under her eyes, but, lately, she never looked in the mirror to look at herself only the people she was working one. Yet, with the stress she was facing, she hadn’t given it a thought.

Y/n sighed, moving from the table, she crouched next to her bunk and pulled out the guitar case that she stored under it. She placed the case on the table, opening it, and felt her shoulders drop when her eyes met a  dark blue acoustic guitar. Running her fingers over the fretboard, she took a deep breath before pulling it out of the case.

*~~*~~*

Saul ran a hand through his curled hair, ruining the work that had been done to it earlier. Stepping out of the concert hall, he took a deep breath, glad to be outside, to be away from the relentless teasing of his friends. Even though he asked them to forget he mentioned it, they couldn’t do that. It was just too easy to forget something. He sighed and decided to walk around for a bit. Maybe some time away from them would slow his racing heart down. 

That thought became less and less likely as he walked, his brain mulling over his emotions that were running wild. He didn’t just like Y/n, the guitarist felt that he was coming to love her. It was foolish when he knew he didn’t stand a chance, yet the feelings didn’t waver, they stood firm like a hardwood in a rainstorm. 

What a fool he was. 

The boys and him could have any girl they wanted, girls fell into their laps like apples fall from trees, yet he that wasn’t good enough for him. His friends weren’t picky, not giving a thought to their emotions, not letting their feelings eat away at them. They were satisfied with any girl that came their way, Saul wasn’t. He wanted to be, he didn’t want his heart to race at the thought of one person, but that seemed to be what he was stuck with.

Saul pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, pulling one out and lighting it in hopes that it would help calm his heart down. Taking a drag, he tried to focus on the show, the after-party, their next stop, anything to distract him from what was eating him up inside. Nothing was working, nothing was strong enough to deter his mind from the emotions that he felt. He was just about to grab a bottle of vodka from the band’s bus, hoping that it would drown his problems when he heard the faint sound of someone plucking at guitar strings.

Stopping in his tracks, he looked around, trying to pinpoint where the music was coming from. The tune wasn’t that interact, yet it intrigued him, drawing him to it. He started walking in the direction of the intoxicating sound. It was doing a far better job at wiping his mind than anything he had tried. Saul raised a brow when he was lead to the crew bus, he wasn’t sure who he was expecting to be behind the music, but he wouldn’t have guessed a crew member.

Climbing the steps of the bus, he was surprised by the scene in front of. Sitting on the couch was Y/n, a guitar resting in her arms. Saul leaned against the driver’s seat, watching her play the instrument. It was news to him that she knew how to play, but then again, it wasn’t like he’d ever asked. Their conversations had never gone further than how he wanted his hair done and what stage makeup he wanted. It never went further than that, leaving him to wonder what else he didn’t know about her. 

He wondered what her biggest fears were, where she grew up, what her favorite color was. He wanted to know when she learned to play, who taught her, her favorite song. Watching her concentrate on the cords, he wanted to know what made her her. What made her more than some makeup artist. He wanted to know her. 

Y/n shook her head, messing up a cord. It had been ages since the last time she’d played and clearly, she was a little rusty. She looked up from the guitar, going to rub the knot out of her neck when her eyes widened in surprise at the sight in front of her. “Saul.” She cleared her throat. “What are you doing here? Do you guys need me to do touch ups or something?”

He shook his head, hair bouncing about as a smile formed on his lips. “No, no. I was just passing by… I didn’t know you played.” He pointed at the instrument in her lap. “What song were you playing?”

Y/n’s cheeks heated up, embarrassed by the situation she found herself in, “Callin’ Baton Rouge.’ It’s by this country band, you probably wouldn’t know.”

“Your probably right, but I think you did the song justice.”

“I wouldn’t call it justice, it was really far from it.”

Saul looked at her in disbelief. “You may be out of practice, but that was amazing.”

She gave him a small smile and stood from the couch with the guitar in hand. “Maybe for an amateur it’s good, but I ain’t no rockstar.” She placed the instrument back in its case, latching it shut. “I’m not that good.” 

Y/n stepped back from the case, twisting her fingers around as she glanced up at him. Suddenly, the confidence that she always collected around him, around the band, was gone as she stood in front of him. She suddenly felt vulnerable, fully exposed as if she had been stripped naked. 

Silence filled the space between them, neither knew what to say.

“Uh… Well, I better get going,” Saul said, running a hand through his hair. He stopped when Y/n raised a disapproving brow. “See you before the show, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she nodded.

He gave her a small smile before disappearing out of the bus.

Y/n was cemented in place as she watched him through the bus windows, her heart attempting to beat out of her chest and the room suddenly getting warmer. She wasn’t sure what was coming over her, but she knew it had everything to do with him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Let me know if you want to be tagged in the next part and I’d love feedback.)

Permanent Taglist: @rexorangecouny @zestygingergirl @jennyggggrrr