Safe With Me

Safe With Me

Pairing: Jennie x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 1,690

Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Anxiety, Fluff, Happy Ending

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Hey everyone! Here’s my first writing for Jennie; I hope you enjoy it. Let me know what you think! 

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

“Y/N, it’s Jennie. She needs you.”

The second that your brain processes those words, you’re on your feet, mind beginning to race. 

After the staff had called you in a panic earlier, you came as soon as you could. They failed to inform you, though, that it was something concerning Jennie -- likely because they knew you’d drive like a maniac in order to get there as fast as humanly possible.

“What happened?”

“She had an attack on stage earlier and she still hasn’t fully calmed down. We got her some water and she’s in her dressing room right now, but she keeps asking for you.”

With that, you thank the backup dancer and exit the waiting room, quickly making your way to her. The winding hallways of the backstage area seem longer than they ever have before, and you can’t help the antsy feeling that creeps over you. 

Upon turning the corner, you spot Jisoo outside of Jennie’s door, a heavy look of contemplation on her face. When her eyes meet yours, worry flashes across her features -- considering how strong she always stays for the other girls, this comes as a bit of a surprise. Despite the stutter in your step after seeing that, you continue on nonetheless.

Rosé and Lisa are further down the hall, the low chatter of their voices carrying over to Jisoo and yourself. “This one was pretty bad, Y/N. Take care of her, okay? I’ll keep the others occupied.” With a nod, the two of you part ways, and you open the door.

You make sure to enter slowly, not wanting to burst in and frighten her in her already anxious state. “Hey, jagi. Come here.” The words come out softly, a gentle request, as you open your arms to her and sit down beside her on the small couch. Wordlessly, she crawls over to you and settles against you. Now, holding her close, you can feel every tremble and sniffle that she lets out. Your world shatters a little more with each erratic pulse of her untamed heart -- you can feel every beat against your own chest. Her head is resting on your shoulder, her warm cheek pressing against your skin, and her lips lightly brush your neck.

It wasn’t anything sexual -- it’s something that she does everytime you hold her, no matter what. She once told you that it brought her comfort to feel your pulse point against her lips, the steady beat working to regulate her own. So, everytime she gets anxious, you assume this position with her. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner, but I’m here now, baby. I’m not going anywhere.” Your left hand rubs soothing circles on her lower back as you use your other to play with her hair, knowing the calming effect it has on her. Her body begins to relax into you, and you feel the weight start to lift from your shoulders.

Having an inconsiderate boss always sucked, but never more so than at times like these. Even after explaining your reason for needing to leave early, he didn’t budge. He fired off the cliché, “If I let you do it, then I’ll have to let everyone do it too!” In a moment of crisis, Jennie needed you more than anyone else, and you couldn’t even be there for her. Even though it wasn’t your fault, you can’t help but feel guilty about it. Her reasoning for finding such comfort in your mere presence still baffles you, but you’re always willing to offer it when she needs it. 

She must have noticed the dejected look on your face, because she pushes herself up enough to press a kiss to your cheek. “I love you; thank you for being here. Now, will you tell me about your day?” You nearly melt at the sound of her sweet voice, paired with her declaration of love. It still makes your heart skip a beat, and based on the light smile that tugs on her lips, you’re sure that she felt it.

Her words serve as your command, and soon you’re filling her in on everything that happened throughout the day. Jennie could listen to you talk about absolute nonsense for hours on end; she loves the sound of your voice, and she takes solace in the vibrations of your body as you speak. All of those things -- some of her favorite things about you -- are a combination that never fails to take her mind off of anything that’s stressing her out. If she’s honest with herself, everything about you cheers her up. The way your face lights up when you see her, the feeling of your arms wrapped around her, your sense of humor, your kindness, the warmth that you radiate just by being yourself -- she could go on and on forever. No amount of words could possibly convey how thankful she is for you and all that you do for her. 

It goes without saying that you feel the same way about her. You suffer from anxiety, too, and she’s always by your side in an instant whenever it gets especially hard to handle. Her perfume would wash over you, and she would pepper kisses across your skin. Words of affirmation would spill from her lips and drift to your ears, working to bring you back down to Earth. She always knew just what to do to help, and you often thank your lucky stars for aligning with hers.

Things like that can really make or break a relationship -- dealing with stressors and pressure is never easy, but it can certainly bring people closer together. Before you even started dating, Jennie knew you were special; being around you brought her comfort like no other, and she quickly realized that she would choose to spend all of her time with you if she could. Anytime she thinks about her future, you’re always in it; you’re a complex puzzle that she wants to spend her life unraveling and solving.

After spending the better part of an hour like that -- limbs entangled as you talk with one another -- Jennie’s feeling a lot better. Her heartbeat is steady now, and that suffocating feeling of panic is long gone. 

“What would I do without you, huh?” She asks, nudging your shoulder as she sits up to face you. 

“Hmmm, I don’t know,” You start, looking off dramatically while you pretend to think. “Probably be really bored without all of my awesomeness around.”

Your dorky response earns you a chuckle, and she shakes that beautiful head at you. 

“I think you might be right about that one.” She tilts her head to the side, her eyes shining with a look of pure adoration. 

She rests her forehead against yours and guides your hand to her chest. It’s her special thing that she always does after an attack; she wants you to be aware of what your help does to her. The rhythm of her heart is constant against your palm, and her fingers slide up to lace with your own. Knowing that she’s comfortable now is the only reward you could ever ask for.

“I love you so much, Jennie. You’re so strong.” 

“I couldn’t do it without you.”

Her lips find their way to yours, and you can taste the gloss on them as she deepens the kiss. Before long, she’s worked her way into your lap, her hair falling like a curtain around the two of you. Unbeknownst to you, moments like these got her through some very hard times; her mind would recall the memories of how her skin felt against yours, the sighs that would leave your lips as she would kiss down your jawline, how just one touch from you could send her wild, etc. Her safe place is you, and she’ll do everything in her power to always remind you of that.

Just as her fingers begin to undo the buttons of your shirt, the building’s intercom starts up, and the sound echoes loudly across the building. Jennie startles, falling forward against you, and lets out a surprised yelp. Despite your efforts, you can’t stop the small giggle that leaves your lips at how easily she gets scared. She playfully smacks your shoulder and tries to give you an angry look; she can’t keep it up for long, and soon the two of you find yourselves in the middle of a laughing fit.

You give her cheeks a little squish before saying, “You’re the cutest ever.” Following this, she boops your nose and replies with confidence: “I know.”

She pecks your lips one final time before standing up and tugging you along with her. “We’d better go find the girls now.” 

“Fiiiiiiiiine.” You drag out, your usual dramatic self coming back out to play. 

With that, the two of you head out to the main dressing room in search of the girls, hand in hand. 

~~~~~~~

“YAY! You’re here!” Lisa shouts, nearly knocking the two of you over with her bone-crushing embrace. 

“We sure are!” You struggle out, the words coming through as more of a pained wheeze than anything else.

Rosé and Jisoo manage to pry Lisa away, but soon all of you are hugging again anyway. Your little huddle is perfect, and you’re so thankful for the girls. Being surrounded by such genuine, talented people is a blessing, and you seriously wonder how you got so lucky. As the sounds of their jokes and laughter fill your ears, you can practically feel your heart soaring. 

“Time for dinner!” Rosé shouts, now walking out the door. 

“I’ll race you to the car!” Lisa rushes out, quickly darting past the other girl.

“Not fair, I wasn’t ready!” Their rapid footfalls fade as they get further and further away, and you just scoff at their antics. 

“Kids.” Jisoo says with a roll of her eyes, her inner mom showing.

Jennie leans into you, settling against your side, and lets out a content sigh.

In that moment, the dynamic between everyone so perfectly highlighted, you can’t help but think to yourself: there’s nowhere I’d rather be. 

Too Late To Apologize?

Requested By @rosiesandlilies​: “I was wondering if I can request a Rosé x female reader story where Rosie is an idol who also happens to be ur wife and since she and BP are taking over the world by storm, she starts to forget about you and whenever u ask her to spend a little bit of time with you, she gets upset and fights with you. You’re also an important person but you always make time for her. Can it be angsty with fluff 🥰”

Pairing: Rosé x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 6,026

Warnings / Misc: -- Angst, Self Doubt, Strained Marriage / Relationship, Crying, Some Swearing, Fluff

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Oooooo lord, here we go. I am feeding 👏 you 👏 all 👏 today! This one took a while to write, but I’m pretty happy with it. I wrote it all in one go, starting at like 3am (as usual lol), so forgive me if it’s a little rough. I put a lot of effort into it, though, so I hope you guys enjoy. Thank you for requesting -- Happy reading!

PS ~ I highly recommend that you listen to these songs as you read this:

You Were Good To Me -- Jeremy Zucker & Chelsea Cutler

Surrender -- Natalie Taylor

The Night We Met -- Lord Huron

I Found -- Amber Run

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Hongdae, Seoul  --  8:00 PM

“Good evening, everyone! Before I open the doors, I’d like to thank each and every one of you for taking the time out of your day to stop in. We couldn’t have done this without your support, and we’re endlessly grateful. We hope you have a wonderful experience with us tonight. Now, without further ado, welcome to La Rêverie!”

To your amusement, the sizable crowd erupts into a fit of cheers once your opening speech is over. Echoes of the joyous sounds carry across the city, wiggling their way through the alleys and streets, bouncing off of the nearby buildings. The customers slowly filter in, greeting and congratulating you on their way; you’re beyond excited to start this new journey, and seeing people so happy to be a part of it only makes you more proud.

Eventually everyone makes it inside to their seats, and you join them.

--- Later That Evening ---

“Y/N, we have a private party that would like to see you. They’re eager to meet the woman behind all of this,” Pierre smirks, quirking an eyebrow suggestively. His demeanor confuses you slightly, seeing as how this isn’t the first time high profile celebrities have requested your presence -- that’s just one of the perks of being a world renowned chef. You brush off his remark as playful banter and send him to tell them that you’ll be out soon. 

---

“...yes, actually. Y/N and I were fortunate enough to meet when she was studying in Paris; we were being trained by the same chef. We’ve been close ever since. I’m not surprised that she hired me, though; I’m practically a master in the kitchen.”

At Pierre’s cocky words, your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head. A small grin plays on your lips nonetheless, and you smooth out your top one more time before rounding the corner. 

“What’s this idiot on about now? Did he tell you about the time that he nearly got kicked out of our mentorship program for giving Anthony Bourdain the wrong dish?” You ask the table, sending them a glance while ruffling his hair as you come up behind him. They all snicker at that, and it’s his turn to roll his eyes; with an annoyed shove, he scolds you for bringing that story up again.

“Must you always tell people about that?”

Your smile widens, spreading cutely across your face. Mocking him is one of your favorite things to do. “Mhm,” you say simply, nodding your head for emphasis. He attempts to hide his embarrassment, but it only brings a deeper blush to his cheeks. 

At the VIP table, the suppressed sound of laughter carries over to you, and you’re reminded of your reason for being here in the first place. Upon offering your full attention to the table now, no longer distracted by Pierre, you’re met with 4 different pairs of eyes on you. Warm, yellow light illuminates the area, the classy overhead fixture emitting a soft glow to cast down on the guests beautifully. It’s cozy and inviting, just like you had intended it to be, and the sight makes you happy.

As you quickly scan over each of the girls, your brain pieces together where you know them from.

“My oh my, it’s Blackpink themselves. To what do I owe this honor?” All of the natural charisma that you possess takes over now, doing its best to override your nerves. It’s definitely not the time to fangirl over them; you have to act cool. One by one, you shake their hands, making sure to give each of them a glimpse of your award winning smile. 

Jennie is the first to speak up. “Yourself, of course. You’re the talk of the town, Y/N, how could we miss this?” The way that she says it so casually, already skipping past the formalities, puts you at ease. 

“Ah, you’re too kind. Was your food prepared to your liking?”

A chorus of approving noises leaves the table, successfully boosting your confidence in the process. “It was truly incredible, Y/N.” Rosé gushes, her adorable accent adding something magical to the simple phrase. For the first time tonight, your mind goes blank; ever since news broke of your plans for this new restaurant, you practiced to avoid this very thing. As you stand there floundering for a beat, she takes notice of the effect that her words have on you; it doesn’t take long for her to realize how much she loves to make you blush.

“Thank you so much. We’re so glad to have you here tonight.” 

“We’re happy to be here! Rosé hasn’t stopped talking about it for the past week.” The Australian’s eyes go wide as Lisa exposes her, and she shoots the younger girl a shocked look. Lisa only smirks at this, her shoulders rising and falling in a nonchalant shrug. Jisoo nods in confirmation, adding, “Yeah, she’s been super pumped.”

On the inside, you’re freaking out. Rosé was that excited to try out your creations? There’s no logical explanation for that one. Your own surprise is evident in your voice as you respond, “Oh really now? And why’s that?”

“I-I’ve just heard a lot of great things, you know? You’re pretty talented.” She tries to sound confident, but the stutter in her voice betrays her. The tips of her ears are burning with embarrassment, and after sending her yet another smile, you decide to spare her by changing the topic. 

“Well thank you, again. It’s truly a privilege to cook for you girls.” The conversation continues from there, effortlessly moving from subject to subject, and you love how welcome they make you feel. Occasionally you excuse yourself to check on the other guests and ensure that they’re enjoying their dinner, and every time, Rosé finds herself sorely missing your presence. Despite only officially meeting tonight, she feels like she’s known you her whole life. The two of you clicked instantly, and she can’t seem to get enough of you.

After spending the better part of 2 hours chatting and getting to know one another better, you grow bold and ask the question that’s been rolling around in your head all night. 

“Would you guys like to come back to the kitchen for a bit? I could give you some tips and we could make a couple dishes, if you want.”

Rosé nearly interrupts you from how eager she is to accept the offer. The second that you’re done asking, she’s already saying yes. The others happily agree as well, and soon you’re leading them to the back to get prepped.

_________

“Just like this, everyone. Cut thinly here,” you inform, using your knife to point to the areas in question, “...then turn it and follow through with the slices. It should come out diced, like so.” The girls observed your swift motions, peeking over at the small cubes once you’re finished. Things continue on like this for a while, and soon you’re halfway done with the veggies while they’re barely done with the first part of their batches.

“Slow down, Y/N! You’re too fast for us grandmas.” Jisoo jests, her voice bouncy with amusement. 

“Okay, okay! I’ll wait, just let me know if you need help.” Your knife comes to rest against the cutting board, and you take the opportunity to lean back against the countertop to watch them work. Your eyes trail over to Rosé, only to find her already looking at you; she tenses once she realizes she’s been caught, and she returns to her previous duties. You decide to tease her.

“Everything alright, Rosé? You seem a little distracted…” She momentarily shuts her eyes at your words, trying to refocus her thoughts and collect herself. A subtle snicker from Lisa can be heard, and Rosé delivers a quick jab to her arm. The maknae lets out a little “oww” before setting her things down to rub away the newfound soreness of her arm. 

A little later, Jennie requests some assistance, prompting you to make your way over to her. The station that she’s working at just so happens to be next to Rosé’s, and you’d be lying if you said that didn’t thrill you. 

“Do we peel this first or leave it on?” 

“Cut the ends first, then slice it in half and remove the outer layer.”

Under your watchful eye, she follows your instructions and is soon back on track. She thanks you, and you bring your hand up to give her a pat on the back. Although she feels childish for it, the action works to make Rosé the tiniest bit jealous; she wants your attention on her. 

The blonde clears her throat before speaking up. “Y/N, I need a little help, too.” Your heart jumps at her words, and you fight hard to keep yourself in check as you spin around to face her.

“Of course, Rosé.” She sighs at the way her name rolls off your tongue, and she’s completely convinced that you’ve secretly put her under some type of spell. Her thoughts of you and your mysterious ways are interrupted when you come to stand next to her, your hip lightly brushing against hers. 

“Oh, well there’s your problem: you’re holding the knife wrong. Here,” you start, reaching out to reposition her hand in a better spot. Now she’ll be able to control it better, and she won’t run the risk of cutting herself.

“Better?” You ask innocently, missing the way that she bites her lip. The close proximity of your bodies is making her head spin, and she can’t decide if she wants you to stay or go. “Yes, thank you.” She looks like she wants to say something else, but she doesn’t, so you take that as your cue to go check on the other girls. Rosé silently curses herself for missing that golden opportunity to flirt with you, but she takes solace in the fact that she catches you stealing glances her way fairly often. You feel the connection too, and she’s pleased with that -- maybe she was doing something right after all.

The next stint of the night is spent preparing and cooking the dishes you promised them while trading jokes, banter, and teasing remarks. A mini food fight also took place, but for the sake of professionalism you won’t mention that. You couldn’t have asked for a more perfect day.

---- 

“Goodnight girls. I hope you come by again sometime soon!” 

They all assure you that they’ll be back before you know it, and you believe them. After all, they gobbled those dishes down like they hadn’t eaten in days -- it’s safe to say that they enjoyed them.

Rosé lingers in the doorway, eyeing you as you work to clean off the counter. She doesn’t want to go; she’s loved getting to hang out with you. Contemplating her options, she decides to be brave; she tells the girls to go on ahead, that she’ll be there in a minute. 

“Rosé, did you forget something?” You ask, looking up at her as you reach forward to wipe any remaining debris off the sleek surface.

“Yeah, your number.” Somehow, she possesses all the confidence in the world now, her new demeanor completely opposite to its previously shy counterpart. 

You tilt your head at her, a dumbfounded smile parting your lips ever so slightly. “Bold, are we? Alright, I’ll bite.” You say, holding a hand out for her to give you her phone. Her eyes widen a bit -- was she not expecting you to say yes? There’s no way you could turn down a chance like this. She fumbles around in her bag until the smooth screen of her phone comes into contact with her fingers, letting her know she’s found it.

“Here you go,” she chuckles cutely, an adorable little pattern of blush rising to her cheeks again. 

After entering your number, making sure to save the contact and even take a goofy picture of yourself for it, you give it back to her. “Call me anytime, love.” Her smile spreads even farther at the pet name, and she ducks her head to hide her reddening cheeks.

As she slowly approaches the door, walking backwards, she says, “I will… love,” offering you a little awkward salute at the end of it. You giggle at her antics, and soon bid her goodnight. 

No more than 5 minutes later, your phone dings as it displays a notification from an unknown number. 

“I’m usually not that awkward 🤦‍♀️ pretty girls just make me nervous.” The message makes your heart flutter, and you quickly save her number to your contacts. 

“Really? We have yet another thing in common, then.” 

The girls watch as Rosé does a little victory dance in her seat, her movements a bit limited by the belt stretched across her body. She’s practically glowing with excitement, her fingers already firing off another reply.

________

3 Years Later -- Rome, Italy

Upon seeing Rosé saunter down the aisle, your emotions get the jump on you; before you can stop them, tears flow freely down your face, and you bring a hand up to your mouth to quiet yourself. She looks bruisingly beautiful: the natural curves of her body are accentuated by the silky material of her dress, and her shoulders are covered in lace. An angel cast down from the heavens above. 

She smiles at the audience that’s filled with your close friends and family, offering little greetings as she passes them. Once she and her father make it to the altar, he pulls you in for a big hug, a few tears escaping his eyes. After he takes a step back, he looks between the two of you with pure pride on his face, his hand resting on your shoulder. 

The song ends, signalling for the two of you to join hands and face each other, and he returns to his seat. 

“We’re gathered here today to celebrate the joyous union of Y/N L/N and Roseanne Park. Two souls destined to find their way to one another, travelling millions of miles in the process. We come together to revel in this fact and send them into their new life together with all of our support.” The officiator says into the microphone, smiling at the two of you. You can tell he loves his job, and he’s damn good at it. 

Rosé’s grip on your hand tightens as she tries to contain her tears, but you’re quick to assure her that it’s alright. “You can cry, baby.” At your words, her lip is released from between her teeth, and her tears begin to flow. You wipe them away, stepping closer to rest your forehead against hers. 

The ceremony continues on and the two of you recite the personal vows you wrote. Somehow, unbeknownst to you, there doesn’t seem to be a limit to how much you can cry in one sitting. Rosé is having the same problem, seeing as how her makeup is smudging some as the tears wash the substances away. You don’t care though, and you make it a point to remind her of that; she’s never looked more beautiful to you.

“I do.” You choke out, beaming at her as you run your thumb across her knuckles.

“I do.” She responds, impatiently bouncing on the balls of her feet as she waits for those final words from the officiator. 

“You may now kiss the bride.” 

Her lips are on yours before he even finishes the phrase, her hand resting on the back of your neck as she pulls you in closer. Your lips move with hers in perfect time, working to seal your union in the best way possible. “I love you, forever,” she whispers against your lips. 

____

Present Day, 1:17 AM

In order to spare you from the overwhelming sadness that you’re being subjected to now, your brain takes you back to those happy times from the past. When Rosé still made time for you; when she loved you. 

Even though you hate it, you still find her in everything. The bright sunshine of the early morning reminds you of all the times she would wake you up with kisses, holding you close. The songbirds outside of your window bring to mind when you’d come home to find her at the piano, alternating between striking the keys and strumming her guitar as her beautiful voice carried out across the house. 

You miss that Rosé, so, so much. The Rosé that would call you in between sessions at the studio, if only for 5 minutes. The Rosé that longed to hear your voice after a long day; who fell into your arms the second that she shuffled through the door after practice. 

As time has passed, though, she’s seemed to fade more and more from your life; missed calls and texts have become a given, and it takes everything in you to mask your sorrow. Anyone who knows you well at all can easily see through the facade: you’re now a shell of who you once were, your normally vibrant and cheery self gone. You attempt to hide your sadness behind a smile, but it never really works out; your eyes don’t shine like they used to, and your lips don’t quite tweak up at the corners in the special way they had before. 

But you’re getting ahead of yourself again. Your reason for crying tonight is simple: for the hundredth time this month, she’s cancelled your date night plans, opting to spend the time working instead. The argument that the two of you had earlier replays in your mind:

"I don't have a choice."

Except, she did. She could choose you, choose to take a break, if only for the evening. You never ask too much of her, knowing that she can't handle even more stress competing with what she already has from the company and media. Being an idol is hard enough, and you know you can never fully wrap your head around everything that's expected of her.

Though, that makes this all the more ridiculous. All you've asked for is a couple hours of her time -- for her to relax with you and get away from it all. Earlier that day you had gone to the store and picked up all the necessary materials to treat her to a little spa day, complete with bath and body oils, face masks, and even some bath bombs. 

"Asking my wife to spend an evening with me is not unreasonable, Rosé."

"I'm not having this argument again, Y/N. I get enough shit from everyone else; I don't need any extra from you."

Maybe it was something in how she said it, so final and hateful, her face coming to rest in a scowl. Her arms were crossed as she stood in front of you, and you could see the muscles in her jaw clench and release repeatedly. In some twisted way, part of you was glad to have this encounter; it hurt like hell, but at least she was paying attention to you. She hadn't looked at you for this long in a while.

Before you can even get another word out, she sighs, saying, "I don't have time for this. I have to go back to the studio." 

Just as she turns to go, you catch her wrist. With a slightly annoyed look, she turns to face you.

"If you walk out that door then I'm leaving; at least for the night. We need to talk about this, but if you don't care enough to even give me that, then…" you trail off, tilting your head slightly. You want her to apologize, to say how wrong she's been for doing all of this to you -- but she doesn't. Her expression is tired, irritation written plainly for you to see. She pulls her arm away, offering a petty, "Oh well," with a shrug before exiting the house. 

How could she be so cold? Maybe that's what hurt the most. Seeing the love of your life turn into someone completely different than who you fell for stung more than any argument ever could. The reality is that she's not the same person anymore. Accepting that would be half of the battle in and of itself. 

Your heart is betraying itself, stuck in a sticky situation: you're constantly struggling between your love for her and the respect you hold for yourself. Half of you wants to stay, to make her listen and fight for this; but the other half of you, perhaps the more rational side, knows that that won't work now. You've tried that already, you reason with yourself, racking your brain for any new way to get through to her. 

Sometimes it's like she forgets all of the sacrifices you make for the relationship. Despite having your own busy schedule to deal with, you always make time for her. So why could she never do the same for you?

It's obvious that in its current state, this relationship is only wrecking your mental health -- a testament to that is every night you've spent lying awake, sobbing into your pillow as your list of insecurities grows longer and longer. She used to be the person you'd run to when negative thoughts plagued your mind, her sweet words of love showing how much she valued you. But all of that's gone now, leaving you with a shattered heart and racing mind. When had you stopped being enough?

~~~~~~~

It’s late, well past 4AM when Rosé manages to make it home. Practice absolutely wrecked her today, leaving her body exhausted from dancing and throat sore from all the singing she had to do. She’s more than ready to collapse into bed and pass out. 

One thing that always stayed the same was your sleeping arrangement. No matter how much Rosé hurt you, you still slept in the same bed. Her subconscious was always kinder to you than she was, anyway; the two of you would cuddle in close like before, her arms wrapped around you as she slept peacefully. No arguments or yelling, you could always count on the nights to heal your heart a little bit. 

As she enters the empty bedroom, the memory of your argument from earlier that day comes flooding back. She remembers that you said you were leaving, but part of her didn't fully believe you. She should've known better -- you always keep your word. Guilt washes over her, and she gently taps her head against the wall as a sort of self-punishment for her previous actions. Why did she say that to you? The hurt look in your eyes broke her heart, but she couldn’t afford to skip practice, especially with the comeback quickly approaching. In retrospect, she should’ve just told you that she didn’t feel prepared, and that’s why this practice had been so important. Even though she doesn’t show it, you still mean the world to her. She just so happens to be her own worst enemy. 

With a heavy sigh, she makes her way to the bathroom; there she finds a cute little basket of goodies next to the tub, and a note on the counter of the sink. She approaches the basket first, quickly discovering that it holds some of her favorite self-care items from the local store. Yet again, a deep pang of guilt courses through her upon realizing that you had prepared that for her. Defeated, she picks up the note. 

Roseanne,

If you’re reading this, then I’ve already left. I don’t want you to worry, if you even still care enough to do that, so I decided to leave this letter for you. I’ll be staying with my friend for the next while. I don’t know how long, but that depends entirely on you. I’ve tried to communicate with you, but we’re getting nowhere; we both know it. We’re not who we used to be, Rosé, and I hate that. I want us to be happy again, but it seems that I can’t do that for you. If you want to end things, let me know. 

- Y/N

Rosé’s heart is breaking, splintering into a million different pieces and leaving her with no possible way to collect them all. How had she so royally fucked this up? She only has herself to blame, and she knows that; she can’t believe that she let things get like this. She had been so blinded by the stress that she lost sight of the most important thing in her life: you. It’s slowly sinking in that she very well might lose you for good this time, and she doesn’t know how to cope with that. She can survive without her career, but she knows she can’t go on without you.

-----  La Rêverie, 2 Weeks Later -----

She only intended to walk by -- to see if you were there and safe. But as she gazes through the windows, peeking into the place that houses so many of her dearest memories, she’s transfixed. Her eyes land on you, finding you hard at work in the kitchen. It’s always been where you go when you’re stressed or upset about something -- two things that Rosé knows she’s the cause of.

You’re in your element, face donning a look of pure concentration as you prepare what she assumes is a new dish. Your hair’s in a bun, a few strands coming down to fall around your face as you move about. Gravity takes its time in gently coaxing them out of the tie's hold, and Rosé’s breath hitches at how beautiful you look; it’s as if she’s falling for you all over again. She’s always admired your skills, but they hold a whole new meaning now, an unspoken tension in every movement you make. 

How had she been so selfish? You had been there for her all along, waiting patiently for the day that she would come to her senses. You would always have dinner ready -- usually one of her favorites, hoping that would spark something again -- but she always brushed you off. She never stayed long enough to see the crushed look on your face, or how the pain was becoming clearer and clearer by the day. She realizes now just how much of a toll her actions have taken on the both of you; you're still just as breathtaking as ever to her, but that special sparkle in your eye has long been eclipsed by something more dull. You're tired of being let down repeatedly, stuck in a constant loop of excuses and avoidance, and Rosé can't blame you for a second.  

The time apart hasn't been kind to her at all; there hasn't been a single day that's gone by where you haven't consumed her thoughts. She misses you so badly it hurts, and even now, despite being so close to you, separated only by the walls of the restaurant, you've never been further away. 

The distant sound of a car alarm cuts through the silence, simultaneously scaring her and drawing your attention. Before you can spot her, she ducks down; there’s no way that she can face you yet. Taking this as a sign, she decides to leave.

She’s spent the past 2 weeks attempting to spare you by not coming around; she thinks you need time away from her to deal with everything she’s put you through, and she doesn’t want to upset you anymore than she already has. Ever-torn, part of you is glad that she’s stayed away; however, another part of you just wants to see her again. You miss the nights more than you thought you would. 

--- A Few Days Later ---

Steady sheets of rain pound harshly against the window, vibrating the latches with each gust of wind. Times like these are always the worst, especially when you don’t have Rosé to calm you down. Violent thunderstorms never fail to frighten you, and this one in particular seems like it’ll be the worst one of the season. Swiftly padding over to the window, you sneak a quick peek outside, only to find the branches of the large oak tree that occupies the yard swaying in the wind with reckless abandon. The sight terrifies you, but you do your best to keep yourself from panicking, even having to do some breathing exercises. Your friend can sleep through anything, and you know she needs the rest; so, you stay in the spare bedroom that she’s so graciously allowing you to reside in, and lie awake. 

Across the city, Rosé is tossing and turning. The storm hasn’t fully reached its peak there yet, but she knows how worried you must be. Tears spring to her eyes at the thought of you huddled up under the covers, body trembling in fear as the storm rages on. The deep-rooted shame that she’s grown so accustomed to since you left plagues her conscience, making her even more disgusted with herself. 

After turning over yet again, her eyes land on the picture she has of the two of you propped up on the nightstand. It was taken on your wedding day, that stunning view of the venue paling in comparison to your beauty. A sense of determination washes over her -- determination to make you that happy again someday, in whatever way she can -- and she gets out of bed to collect a few materials. She’ll do whatever it takes.

----

The sound of a car door slamming perks your ears up, and your curiosity gets the better of you. Quickly pulling the curtain back, you’re beyond shocked to see Rosé out there, holding something in her hand. Just as you lean in closer to the window to try and see what it is, her caller ID pops up on your phone. 

“Come downstairs, please.” 

Even with the vast array of emotions coursing through you at the moment, you’re only focused on getting her inside and out of harm’s way. 

You nearly knock the door off its hinges with how quickly you snap it open. To your surprise, she’s still standing by her car, but now you can see what she was holding before; a white sign with black writing on it. The words are barely legible with how much it's raining, the dye of the marker horribly smudged, but you can make out: “I’m sorry! I’m an idiot.” It’s like something out of romantic drama.

Before you can even comment on everything that’s happening, Rosé begins the speech that she’s been trying to piece together ever since you left. 

She has to raise her voice so you can hear her over the storm. You wonder why she doesn’t just come in, but you think that maybe she’s doing it to show you that she’s willing to punish herself by standing out in the elements. “No words that I say will ever be able to fix the pain that my actions caused. You don’t deserve any of the shit I put you through, and I hate myself for being such a coward. I was too immature to look past my own struggles and just talk to you about them.” 

Now, she takes a few cautious steps towards the front door, testing the waters as she scans your face to gauge how you’re feeling. “I guess I just thought I could deal with it like I always do. But losing you showed me how wrong I was; I love you so much, Y/N. I don’t want to end things; I’ll never want that. You’re my world, baby; I’m so sorry that it took me this long to see what was right in front of me.” 

How are you to respond to that? Can you trust her? She looks more sincere in this moment than she has in a long time, and that puts you a little more at ease. Her eyes are begging -- pleading -- with you to believe her, and after a moment you step to the side, wordlessly telling her to come in. You don’t even realize that you’re crying until a few stray tears drip onto your shirt, leaving little marks in their wake. She has to restrain herself from reaching out and wiping them away; she has no idea when -- or if -- you’ll be able to forgive her. 

Soft pitter-patter of the water running off of her coat echoes lightly across the foyer, serving as white noise for the conversation you’re having. Her sniffles work in tandem with it, and she bites back her sobs in order to get the words out. 

“I know this won’t be fixed overnight, but I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you’ll let me. I won’t blame you for a second if you can’t forgive me, either. I just couldn’t let you get away without a fight.”

With each new fresh batch of tears that settle in your eyes, you have to work twice as hard to blink them away. “I-I don’t know what to say, Rose. You’re the only person in this world capable of hurting me that badly, because you mean more to me than anyone else. But I never thought you’d treat me like that. Do you know how many times I doubted myself, thinking I did something wrong?” Your tone is bitter now, voice conveying the pain from those months of anguish that you had to endure, and Rosé hangs her head. 

“I know that now, Y/N, and I know that I can never take it back. But God, how I wish I could. I’d do anything in my power to take that pain away. It was never your fault; none of it was.”

You know she’s being honest. After seeing the opposite for so long, it’s easy to spot when she’s telling the truth. You nod a couple times, deciding to pull her in for a long-overdue hug. She’s motionless at first, not quite knowing if you want her to return it or not, but the second that you quietly say, “Hold me, Rosé,” she’s scooping you up in her arms like her life depends on it. Her head rests in the crook of your neck, and the two of you cry together, letting all of the pent up frustration and sadness leave your bodies. 

After standing there, embracing one another for who knows how long, she pulls away just enough to look into your eyes. Her gaze subtly falls to your lips, but you don’t fail to notice. “Can I?” She asks gently, raising her eyes back up to yours. “Yes.” You utter, nearly swooning as her soft lips brush against your own. You’ve missed them. 

Her chilled hands cup your cheeks with purpose, and you can feel water running off the ends of her hair and onto your chest.

She kisses you in such a poetic way: softly, as if you might break at any moment, but urgently, like a lost soldier finally returning to the arms of their lover. She wants to make you feel how sorry she is, how much she loves you, and this seems like the perfect place to start.

“I love you, jerk,” you say through your tears, brushing your thumb along her cheek as you look into her eyes.

“And I love you, angel.” She picks you up, spinning you around a couple of times before setting you back down on your feet. 

After a moment, you glace at the window. “Shhhh, wait. Do you hear that?”

She cocks her head to the side as she listens closely for any potential noise that you might be talking about, but she hears nothing. “No? I don’t hear anything…” 

“Exactly; the rain stopped.”

“Huh. I guess it did its job, then.” She smiles, silently thanking the universe for working in its wonderful ways. It brought the two of you back to one another, and neither of you can contain your happiness. Maybe you don’t hate storms as much after all...

Eyes Closed, Heart Open

Pairing: Rosé x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 1,463

HC Count: 28

Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Fluff, Happy Ending 

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Hey everyone, here’s another Rosé writing. I hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think of it. Happy reading!

I got inspiration from listening to her cover of “Eyes Closed” by Halsey. Check it out if you haven’t already!

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Nothing felt the same anymore. The adrenaline rush that coursed through you as you ran out on stage, the cheering of the fans, hearing them sing along with you -- nothing. In her absence, everything was dull, and you found yourself just going through the motions. That’s not to say you aren’t grateful for everything you have; it’s all just lost its glow without her.

Both of you are idols (you’re a soloist), and you used to be together. You always kept it hidden from the public, but after a leak made its way to the media, there was little you could do to stop them. So, your companies decided to ban you from being with one another.

You found this fact out before she did, so you tried to find a way to end things. It’s the last thing you wanted, but you knew you had to hurt her now in order for her to be able to move on and forget about you.

You broke her heart, but you thought it was something that had to happen, given the circumstances. You hated yourself a little more with every second that passed, seeing the pain you caused. 

You often doubt your decision, thinking now maybe it would’ve been less painful for her to hear about the ban from the company instead. She was the one person in this world that you couldn’t bear the thought of being hated by.

Cue her cover of “Eyes Closed”

Certain lyrics pertain to your situation:

          ↪ “But he’ll never stay, they never do”

          ↪ “But you’ve been replaced, I’m face to face with someone new” (Of course, for damage control, YG forced her into a fake relationship)

          ↪ “My lover, my liar” (She says this in reference to you, since you had promised her you’d never break her heart)

Months after what happened, you’re still stuck on her. Your plan clearly backfired, only hurting both of you in the process and giving you no closure or ability to move on

As if you could move on from her

Given that Blackpink is the massive success that it is, Rosé’s hold over you was inescapable. Every time you were out, it was inevitable for you to see a new advertisement for them or hear their song on the radio. It was always a slap to the face, serving as a reminder of your mistake.

Both of you were expected to attend the MMA awards show, given that you were both nominated. When you saw “Blackpink” on the list of artists invited, it came as no surprise; even still, your heart leapt and your stomach was in knots. How would this go down?

Both of you ended up winning in your respective categories. When you go up to receive your award, you decide to set things straight; you’re sick of feeling this way, and you know you’d kick yourself for the rest of your life if you didn’t even try to rectify the situation.

“I’d like to give a huge thank you to my fans, support system, and family. My people. No one could have a better group of individuals around them. I couldn’t have done any of this alone, and I thank you endlessly for all you’ve ever done and continue to do. This award is for you!” The crowd cheers, clapping loudly, but you don’t stop there. “Also, though, there’s someone here tonight, out in the audience, that I hurt very badly.” At your words, Rosé’s eyes find yours, expression unreadable. “I thought that in doing what I did, I would be helping her to move on; after all, I never meant to hurt her. Little did she know, though, our companies would’ve stepped in, had I not beat them to it. I wanted to give her someone to hate, someone that she didn’t have to see everyday and be around.” The audience is dead silent, hanging onto your every word. To the right of you, just off stage, you can see one of your managers next to a security guard; likely ready to drag you off at any moment. With time running out, you finish by saying, “I know it was wrong, but I did what I thought was best at the time -- please believe that. Hopefully you can forgive me for my naiveté. Thank you again, everyone.” The air is thick with tension, the crowd uncertain about how to react. Scattered applause rings outs, and you send one last wave to the audience before going back to your seat.

Your words impact Rosé more than she expected, forcing her to think things over, yet again. She had spent the past few months doing everything in her power to recover, and she’d be damned to just let it slip away so easily. Part of her begged to relent, though, upon seeing how sincere your apology appeared to be. She hated to admit it, but you still looked just as gorgeous now as you had before. Though she tried to pretend, she knew her feelings for you could never go away.

You try to find her for the rest of the night, but she’s always just a little too far away, right out of your reach. You eventually lose hope, but you mask that fact from the cameras that had been glued to you after your speech.

About an hour later, the show is over and the afterparty is kicking off. Deciding that a drink would definitely help after the night you’ve just had, you make your way towards the elevator. Conveniently, the celebration was taking place in the same building, albeit high up in the clouds, on the 80th floor. You had waited patiently for the batch of overzealous guests to go up before you, glad to distance yourself from them.

You could finally breathe again, getting a moment to yourself. 

Now inside the elevator, you press the button and wait for the sleek metal doors to close. Before they can, a slender arm darts between them, and your heart jumps. They open again to reveal none other than Rosé herself, looking as stunning as ever. She steps in next to you, and it’s physically painful how much you want to hold her in that moment. To reach out and touch her, assuring yourself that she’s actually there and you aren’t imagining this. To apologize profusely and explain everything to her. But you don’t. You stand there, holding her gaze, waiting for her to say something.

“Did you mean it?” She asks after an eternity, voice soft and unsure as she tests the waters. Her eyes are now focused on the floor; she can’t bring herself to look at you as she waits for an answer, too afraid of what you might say.

“I meant everything I said tonight. You’ve never left my thoughts, no matter how much I try to avoid them. And I…” You start, ready to finally confess how you’ve been feeling all this time without her. You take a moment to steady yourself. “I never stopped loving you.”

You wait with bated breath, silently begging the universe to let her feel the same. 

She doesn’t say anything. Instead, she gently wraps herself around you, her arms around your neck and face against your shoulder. You sigh against her, weight being lifted from your heart at this simple act. She still feels the same; warm and comforting. Your home.

Eventually you pull back enough to look at her, but not enough to lose her from your grip.

You rest your forehead against hers, and the two of you stay like that. There will be plenty of time to talk about everything later; you’re at peace just holding her for now. The elevator dings, and the doors open to reveal your manager. 

He gives you an incredulous look, as if to say We’ve been over this! But you don’t care. Rosé glances between the older man and you, but you simply smile at her. “I’m done running.”

Those words echo throughout her mind as she feels your lips on hers -- something she had dreamt of since the day you left, despite the pain that came along with it. Memories of the nights she spent crying over what happened soon melt away, making room for new ones to come.

With your manager nearly fuming at what he’s witnessing, you stumble backwards and press the button for the ground floor. Rosé is still on you, her lips moving against your own in a heated dance. The juxtaposition is a bit hilarious, if you’re honest. 

The noise from the rowdy crowd dies down as you make your descent, and you feel her lips turn up in a giddy smile. “I love you, too, Y/N.”

Happiest Year(s)

Pairing: Jisoo x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 1,759

Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Character Death, Illness, Crying

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: OMG!!! This writing absolutely wrecked me... I’m so sorry Jisoo 😭 I promise that I have some fluff in the works to make up for this one. Regardless, I hope you enjoy! 

PS ~~ I listened to the song “Happiest Year” by Jaymes Young when I wrote this (hence the title). I highly recommend that you check it out -- maybe even play it in the background while you read this.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

The pain was something you had grown accustomed to, especially within the past few months. It was nothing you couldn’t handle, though it sure gave you a run for your money sometimes.

One fateful night, everything changed: Hot, excruciating jolts shot through you, burning and raging like a fire within. Jisoo found you in the bathroom, curled up in the fetal position, and immediately called for help. To her, this was something totally unexpected -- you had always worked hard to hide what you were going through from her, not wanting to give her any added stress. She had enough to worry about; you didn’t want to be another thing on that list. Perhaps that had been the wrong thing to do, judging by the panicked look on her face as she cradled you in her arms. Surely her stress had increased tenfold now.

~~~~~~~

The soft click of the door to your hospital room grabs your attention, and you open your eyes. 

“Y/N, why did the doctor just tell me that you’ve known about your condition?” Her voice is quiet, unbelieving; she sounds tired. For the first time in a long time, her eyes are unable to meet yours. She swallows thickly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and fear. Tears threaten to spill from her beautiful eyes, and you curse the universe for not giving you enough strength to reach up and wipe them away when they inevitably fall. 

“I was going to tell you… I just never found the right time. How was I supposed to tell you something like that?”

“You should’ve.” The reply is simple, but her delivery is profound: her voice is laced with pain, a hint of resentment mixed in. Who could blame her? She’s having to witness her world crumble before her eyes, and she has absolutely no way to stop it. Her jaw clenches as she finally gives in, little by little, allowing her tears to fall. You can tell she’s trying to stay strong, though.

“Would you have lived as fully if I had? No. You would’ve spent every second with me worried about that, looking at me different. Like I was fragile and would break at any moment. Maybe you wouldn’t have meant to, but I would’ve felt it. It would’ve been at the forefront of your mind; you wouldn’t have said what you meant and did what you wanted. I needed to make those memories.” 

~~~~~~~

As you faded in and out of consciousness again, the distant sounds of monitors served as a beacon for you. Fighting sleep was growing harder every time, but you held on for Jisoo. She wasn’t ready to let go yet, and neither were you; although, the two of you never really would be.

“What am I supposed to do without you, Y/N?” Her hands are cradled around your left one, lips pressing against it as the words roll off her tongue. She’s looking down, attempting to wrap her head around what’s about to happen. Hot tears drip onto your skin, and you pray to have enough strength to hold her one last time. You want to leave this world embracing her, feeling her warmth for as long as you possibly can. You have to. 

“J-Jisoo.” Within an instant, her head snaps up, her eyes searching your face, waiting for your command. 

“Hold me.”

As she moves to lay next to you on the bed, she makes sure not to hurt you. One of her arms supports your head and wraps around your shoulders, while her other comes to circle around your waist. Her soft skin rubs against your own, and a hum of happiness leaves your lips.

In an instant, it hits her: she won’t be able to hear that sound again. She won’t be able to hear your laugh… God, your laugh. It’s always been one of her favorite sounds in the entire universe; after tonight, she’ll have to settle for listening to it from videos on her phone. Those captured memories, frozen in time for her to replay as often as she wanted, could never compare to the real thing. 

Soon, you’d be gone from this world, leaving her behind as a shell of what she once was. How could you keep this from her? Everything the two of you had spent so much time creating -- the stable life you were going to keep on living well into your 80s -- is crashing down around her. That dream of passing away together in bed, a long and happy life replaying as you fade away, is rapidly disappearing into nothingness, and she doesn’t know how to cope.

She tries to make sense of the situation -- to rationalize like she always does -- but it’s not possible this time. Why were you burdened with this terrible disease? Why you? You’re one of the greatest people Jisoo has ever known, always doing right by everyone you come across. So what kind of higher power would damn you in such a way? 

“Stop thinking about it. Just be here with me, please.”

As hard as it is to do as you ask, she does her best to push those thoughts away. 

“I can’t do this without you, Y/N.” Her sobs get in the way of her words as they struggle past her lips. She’s a mess: streaks of tears are running down her cheeks again, her hair stuck to her face in various places. The mascara she applied earlier that day is smudged underneath her eyes, mingling with the salty liquid spilling from them without restraint. 

“Yes you can, baby. It’s gonna be alright; you’ve got the girls, and you know I’m gonna be there, too. I’ll always be with you.”

She presses a kiss against your forehead, and you can feel her lower lip tremble against you. 

“I’m not afraid. You don’t have to worry about me anymore, I’m not hurting.” You try your hardest to remind her of that and soothe her, even in the state you’re in; seeing her like this hurts you more than any sickness ever could. Both of your hearts are breaking at the same time, attempting to figure out how to go on without the other. 

A rather violent cough racks through your body, and she holds you once it’s over. In that moment, it’s clear that your time to go is rapidly approaching. 

“Jisoo--” You begin, mustering up all of your strength to utter some parting words.

“Don’t. Don’t say it. You’ll have to go once you do. I’m not ready.” She shakes her head in protest, still unable to accept what’s happening. 

“I have to, jagi. Just let me get it out.” 

With a shuddered breath and fresh set of tears replacing her previous ones, she nods. You take that as your cue to continue.

“Thank you for the happiest years of my life. Knowing you -- being able to love you -- has been the biggest privilege I’ve ever had. There’s no one I would have rather spent my time with. I know it’s hard baby, but please don’t hate me for not telling you… I think you’ll understand why I didn’t, in time. Just be happy, Jisoo. For me. Remember me and the times we shared; those aren’t going anywhere. I’ll love you forever.”

Her lips are against yours in a flash, gentle passion burning wildly. The feeling takes away all of your worries, and you sigh against her. She doesn’t want to stop, but she has some words for you, too. 

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted, Y/N… that’s what makes this so hard. I could never hate you, though. I just wish we had more time. I’ll love you always, even through the distance that separates us. You’re my happiness.”

“Ooh baby…” The words come out through your tears, your voice unstable from all of the emotions you’re feeling. “I wish I could stay. God, am I gonna miss you.”

She kisses you again, and some of the pain is alleviated from your heart immediately. It still hurts, of course, but her kisses soothe you in a way that nothing else can -- part of you is healed now.

“I think I’m gonna miss that most of all.” She mumbles as her forehead rests against yours again. Her tears are at bay for the time being.  

“Not as much as I will.” The faintest chuckle is drawn from her; even as you lay dying, you’re still just as competitive as ever. 

You wrap your arms around her and let your face rest in the crook of her neck. You’re at peace in her arms, warm and comfortable in every way possible. Only she could do that -- no one else made you feel as safe and protected as her. The realness of the situation is hitting you again, but you try to focus your mind on the feeling of her heart beat against your chest. Yours is slowing down, the process becoming unnecessary now.

She can feel you slipping away, right between her fingers, and it’s almost too much to handle. Her entire world is fading right in front of her, and she just has to be a passenger in the process. If she could save you, she would; if there was a way for her to trade positions with you, she would do it in a heartbeat. Every other type of pain pales in comparison to seeing you, the love of her life, so weak and frail.

“I love you. Now, kiss me one last time.”

She does as you ask, whispering her own declarations of love against your lips in between kisses. 

In stark contrast with her broken state, your mind is running wild with memories from the life the two of you shared. All of your “firsts” replay in a flurry of various emotions and colors. It’s difficult to explain, but your mind is aglow with the vivid hues of a life well lived -- one with no regrets, no stones left unturned. It’s all playing in your head like some sort of slideshow, and there’s no other way you’d want to be sent off. 

“It’s beautiful, Jisoo.”

Just as she looks down at you, ready to ask what you’re talking about, the monitor flatlines. You have a content, peaceful smile on your lips, your eyes closed in comfort. 

“I’ll see you later, my love.” She whispers to you -- and those are the last words you hear before leaving this world, beginning your journey to the cosmos.

Don't You Know I Love You?

Pairing: Misty Day x Reader

Word Count: ~ 1,162

Summary: After you sustain an ankle injury, Misty decides to heal it for you. In the process, some hidden feelings surface, changing your relationship with Misty for the better. (This summary is kinda bad, but I promise the writing is better lol)

Warnings / Misc. -- Fluff, Happy Ending

I envisioned a female reader as I wrote this, but there's nothing to stop a male / non binary / genderfluid person from feeling the love!

A/N: Hey everyone! This is my first writing, and constructive criticism is welcome. Feel free to request, all I ask is that you have an idea of what you want. We can come up with something together if you're not too sure, no worries! As always, comments and feedback are much appreciated. I hope you enjoy! 😁

SPECIAL THANKS: I want to thank @imagines4thepeeps for encouraging me to post this and showing me the ropes!

●●●●●●●

"Misty, it's just a little sprain! Nothin' to get all bent outta shape over." You laugh incredulously, rolling your eyes at her. "You got hurt, and I'm not gonna just let you be in pain for no reason. Now just sit there and look pretty while I find the right spell." She replies, matter-of-factly. Arguing with Misty never seemed to go anyone's way except hers; she has a funny way of always sounding right and logical. So, you do what she said to. 

The soft hum of a Fleetwood Mac song moseys into the room, filling your ears with the sweet melody, making everything peaceful. You look around the room for something to occupy your mind, while she sifts through her book in the adjacent room; your attention is momentarily captured by the glass of sweet tea she brought you earlier, the condensation slowly dripping down it. As strange as it sounds, sitting there looking at the glass, you feel something swell within your chest. You love her. You'd known for a long time, and you'd had to come to terms with your feelings. The way she was just so gentle and good, never meaning harm or having wicked intentions like so many others you'd encountered before. She was perfect and pure, and you wanted nothing more than to protect and cherish her forever. 

And in your dreams, you did. They were wonderful, pleasant fantasies; they felt like that rush of warm summer air you feel as you step outside, into the sun. Or like the smell of sweet lavender as you ride your bike down the streets, feeling the light drizzle of cool water from your neighbors watering their gardens. It was warm and safe, and you never wanted to leave that place. But sadly, your reality is far different than that paradise. 

The sound of her voice calling to you pulls you from your thoughts. "--you alright? You were in your own little world there for a bit." She smiles, looking down at you. You can't help but do the same, the look on her face making your heart speed up. Whenever she paid you any attention -- however small it might be -- you were giddy. "Yeah, I'm good." You tell her, and you feel your walls begin to rise back up. "D'you find the incantation?" Her eyes analyze you for a moment before she answers you. "Sure did, sweet thang. I just need ya ta' sit up for me. Here--" she says, reaching out a hand. You take it, and she eases you up, before helping you lean back on the couch; she crouches at your feet. "Ya know Mist, I didn't injure my whole body... you're treatin' me like I'm fragile." Without missing a beat, she says, "Well you are, Y/N. That's why I love ya so much."

 Her words nearly knock the wind from your lungs. She loves you? Surely not like that. The way she said it so freely, so unafraid; those same words that you've been repeating to yourself for months, like a mantra, trying to find the right way to confess. And here she is, so gorgeous in the lazy, fading sunlight, simultaneously calming you down and making you nervous as hell. She quickly furrows her brow, looking up at you from her crouched position in front of you. Mustering up all the courage that you possess, you say, "I need to show you something." She just nods, reassuring you that she understands. You tenderly take her hand within your own, creating the physical bond required to show her your world. She gazes into your eyes, growing serious and curious all at once. "Show me, darlin'." 

With that, you begin. Warmth and radiance fills your senses, the dazzling aromas and sights following suit. You allow her to experience everything you feel when you see her; the giddiness, the excitement, the pleasure. It's unexplainable, but you manage to show her all of it; how protective you feel of her, how precious she is to you, all the things you never knew how to tell her on your own. Then, you let her in on some memories -- the main one being the first time you realized you love her. After that, you slowly release the bond, letting her get prepared for the juxtaposition of realities. Something drips down your cheek as you open your eyes; it’s a tear, and you wipe it away before she can see it. Her eyes stay closed for what feels like an eternity, causing you to sink down into the cushion and prepare for the worst. 

“Well... there ya go.” You let out a singular, nervous chuckle, before looking down and biting your lip. There was no way you could look her in the eyes as she rejected you. You sneak a glance at her, and find her eyes open; she has a gorgeous, awestruck look on her face. “That was beautiful.” She utters, sounding breathless. “I’ve never felt so accepted and loved before... why didn’t you tell me sooner?” You raise your head, meeting her gaze. “I was afraid. I mean, you’re so you and I’m just me. I could never measure up.” Instead of wasting oxygen on telling you all the reasons you’re wrong and she’s right, she leans forward and kisses you. 

It’s sweet and gentle, just like her, but it holds so much passion that you know you’d swoon if you were standing up. Her left hand cradles your head, and she moves to deepen the embrace. A few more alluring kisses later, you pull away and lean your forehead against hers and smile. “God, I never even imagined that this could happen. I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” You confess, feeling the weight lift off of your chest. “Me too, sugar.” She starts, pulling away further to look in your eyes. “Ever since that cookout we had months ago.” Your eyes widen and your jaw drops. “Really? That was only, like, the third time we’d seen each other.” She shrugged in her nonchalant way, saying, “It was enough for me. Part of me knew as soon as I met you. Another one of my traits, I guess. I felt a little pang of something when we first introduced ourselves... I just couldn’t tell what it meant at the time. But it’s clear now.” She says, running her fingers through some of your hair. “I love you so much. Almost as much as Stevie.” She whispers the last part in your ear, rolling forward and climbing beside you on the sofa. You gasp, shocked by her words. “I’m honored.” Your lips find hers, already accustomed to them. “I love you, too. I think we’ve established that, though.” She laughs loudly, and your heart soars. With your ankle forgotten about, the two of you spend the rest of the night together, tangled in each others arms, dizzy with excitement for the future.

Don’t Hate The Player, Hate The Game

Requested By Anon: “Hi! Can I request Jisoo x fem!reader where they’re great friends and y/n is a video game youtuber & while she’s streaming Jisoo comes in, bugs her and questions things about the game while practicing her english? and side note where y/n is dating rosé here. Just cute jisoo and fluffy. Thank you”

Pairing: Platonic!Jisoo x Fem!Reader (with a bit of Rosé x Fem!Reader)

Word Count: ~ 956 (A little short, I know)

Warnings / Misc. -- Fluff

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Hello my lovely readers! To the anon who requested this: I’m sorry for the delay, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Feel free to let me know what you think of it. Happy reading, everyone!

PS ~ This one has a few different references in it; see if you can catch them all.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

“Coming up mid; there’s three on your left!” 

Your teammate thanks you for the heads up, and you continue to fight off the enemies that attempt to capture your flag. Fully immersed in the game, you don’t even notice when Jisoo pads her way into the room, leaning against the wall to watch you play. Her eyes are aglow, the inner gamer in her totally geeking out over your skills. After seeing you take down a particularly difficult player, Jisoo can’t contain her excitement anymore.

“Yay Y/N! Good job!” The sudden words startle you as they cut through the previous silence of the room, and you jump forward in your chair. As fate would have it, that break in concentration served as the perfect opportunity for a sniper from the opposing team to kill you. You sigh in frustration, letting out a little exclamation at the defeat, and Jisoo has to stifle a laugh.

“That’s a pity,” Jisoo says, coming over to give you a hug as an apology. 

“Yeah yeah,” you nudge her, playfully pushing her off. She grins back at you before going to sit on the nearby futon, her body plopping down onto it with a soft noise of impact. 

Since you’re back in the lobby now, waiting for the next round, you take a minute to look over the chat of your livestream and talk to your fans.

“OMG, can Jisoo say hi to me?”

“Jisoo, speak English.”

“I LOVE YOU JISOO.” 

Amused, you read some of the responses out loud for the unnie to hear. Before long, she’s back at your side, greeting all of the viewers. 

“Hello everyone, how are you? I’m so happy to be here with Y/N today.” The words come out clearly, and you praise her for getting even better. It’s clear that she’s been practicing, and you’re really proud of her. One of her cheeks raises, that iconic little smirk of hers playing on her lips, and she thanks you. 

Your eyes dart across the screen in an attempt to read as many responses as you can, and one in particular catches your eye. “They want you to play a round.” You announce and look up at her, waiting to see how she responds. She eagerly accepts, pure giddiness on her face as she bounces up and down. 

Once you trade spots, you remove the Pikachu hat from her head and put it on your own as you place the headphones over her ears. Before you can even begin to tell her more about the game, she’s already firing off a million questions.

“Yah, Jisoo, hold on!” You laugh, shaking your head at her. She scowls at you, her weirdness coming out as she snarls and barks at you. 

“You’re so strange.” 

She giggles at herself now, smiling as she watches the fans light up the chat at her behavior. Your best friend is a weirdo, but so are you; being normal is boring. 

“Alright, so this is the map. Our base is here, and the enemy will come from over there. You just have to protect your flag and try to retrieve theirs.” You inform, and she takes the knowledge in with a simple nod. 

“I got it,” she declares, her accent making you smile. She’s so adorable. 

With one final pep talk, she starts the game and you stand at her side, watching intently. You analyze her moves, jumping in every now and then to give her some pointers and assistance. The fans are sending her words of encouragement, and you make sure to read them to her to boost her spirits. 

---

“Hey babe, what’s up?” Rosé asks sweetly, wandering into the room. 

In unison, Jisoo and yourself quickly shush her, your minds focused solely on the game. She just chuckles at how into you guys are, and she silently comes up behind you to watch. Her arms snake around your waist while she rests her chin on your shoulder, and you melt into her embrace. In a wordless apology, you turn your head and connect your lips in a sweet kiss. She hums into it, pulling a smile from you. 

Jisoo lets out a teasing gag at this, telling you two to get a room as she jokes with your teammates. After a few more minutes, the round ends with Jisoo getting the last kill. The instant replay appears on the screen, and she shouts happily. To your horror, you see that she’s just beaten your high score… and this is her first time playing the game. You don’t know if that speaks more for how bad of a player you are or just how talented Jisoo is, but you go with the latter in order to save your ego. 

Sending you a cocky smirk, she says, “Sorry, not sorry,” before dropping an imaginary mic onto the table. You can’t believe she just roasted you in front of your fans like that. 

“Wooooow, Jisoo. After everything we’ve been through.” She just shrugs, bopping her head from side to side cheerily. Rosé fights back a laugh, but it disappears immediately upon spotting the glare you send her way. 

After gloating a little more, Jisoo stands from the chair and turns to you, giving you a genuine smile. She squishes your cheeks, knowing that that never fails to cheer you up, and she gets just the reaction she was hoping for. You roll your eyes before giving in, and soon the three of you are laughing together.

“This isn’t over yet, unnie. I’m so gonna beat you when we play together.” 

She scoffs at your claims, fully confident that she can wipe the floor with you. “We’ll see about that one, Y/N.”