Everyone, Thank You So Much For All Of The Birthday Wishes. I'm So Grateful For All Of You And This Journey

Everyone, thank you so much for all of the birthday wishes. I'm so grateful for all of you and this journey we're on together ❤🌸

Ask away, my loves 🌹

Hello please reblog this if you're okay with people sending you random asks to get to know you better

Bite

Pairing: Vamp!Lisa x Human!Fem!Reader

AU: Vampire

Word Count: ~ 5,564

Warnings / Misc. -- Mentions of Blood

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

A/N: Hey everyone! I'm alive! School has kept me crazy busy and I've had my hands full with other things as well, but I finished writing this one and I wanted to share with you lovely peeps. To everyone who stopped by to check in, and to those of you who’ve been patiently waiting, thank you endlessly. I love having you as my readers 💜

PS ~ I hope this isn't too bad for my first one shot in forever! Also, happy Lisa era. I’m so proud of our girl!

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Saturday, October 31st

You look like an idiot. 

The nurse uniform you have on is obnoxiously cliché; short and tattered in various places to really sell the "sexy" aspect of it, little is left to the imagination. Fake blood stains dot the flimsy material in random patterns and mat some strands of the tacky blonde wig atop your head, making you look like something out of a B-movie at best. 

A bonafide, absolute idiot. 

When you express that sentiment to your best friend, she just rolls her eyes and holds out one last costume for you to try on. She had a few lined up in case you didn't like her other options, and clearly that's come in handy; you've already worked through the previous picks, so she crosses her fingers as your eyes skim over this one.

"Humor me, will you?" She asks, hoping that you'll give in and at least check this last one out. 

"Fine, but this is your last chance. It had better be good." You raise a pointed finger at her in warning. 

"I have a good feeling about this one," she says, smiling as you take the bag from her and slip into the dressing room one final time. 

Her phone chimes soon after, and she's quick to retrieve it from her pocket.

Willow: Are you guys almost here?? Jackson's been asking about you.

Your best friend bites her lip at that, nervously nibbling on it as she rereads the message to make sure she didn't imagine the last part. She's liked Jackson since middle school, and he'll be swinging by the party that you've all been invited to; that's one of the main reasons she begged you to come with her tonight. 

Y/BFFs/N: Still getting ready. We'll be there ASAP tho!

Willow: Alright, we'll see you soon. Don't take all night, or else👩🤛

Y/BFFs/N: Yah, cut the violence!

The sound of your best friend's soft giggling fills the air just as you manage to fasten the costume's last zipper and pull its hood over your head.

Surprise etches its way into your features as you do a spin, taking in the sight of yourself through the full length mirror of the dressing room. The outfit's red and black color schemes complement each other beautifully, giving you a powerful and sensual appeal that the other costumes didn't even stand a chance of doing. You look alluring in every sense of the word. 

"Holy shit," your best friend says when you emerge, striking a pose. "You look hot!" She squeals, clapping a few times in quick succession. 

There's no way you think this one looks bad. 

"I think Wanda would be proud," you grin, tilting your head up and wrapping the cape around your neck. 

"One hundred percent," Y/BFFs/N nods adamantly, in total agreement. The Scarlet Witch getup really compliments your features. 

"Now," she starts, changing topics as she looks in the reflection of her phone's dark screen to adjust some of her hair that's gone astray. "Let's pay and then go. Willow's looking for us, and my future man's wondering where I am, too." 

"Hell yeah!" You chuckle, patting her on the back. "I'll help you finally land him so you can stop pining."

You watch as she takes a moment to decide between coming up with a decent rebuttal to defend herself or agreeing with you, and you smile when she goes for the latter. 

"I'd accept nothing less," she says, holding her head high like a princess. "You are my wingwoman, after all." 

"And the best one in town," you add, tugging her towards the register. She reaches into her purse and pulls out the money to pay before politely handing it to the cashier. 

The teenage boy takes it with a small smile, though the action looks a little comical as his upper lip gets caught on the cheap, plastic fangs he's sporting. His knock-off version of Dracula is definitely…. something… and you can tell that his managers forced him to wear it for the holiday. 

"Come back and s-shhee us," he says, handing your change back. Your best friend takes it, failing to contain her laughter at his messy speech. He blushes crimson, likely cursing the plastic teeth for making him look a fool. 

"We surely will," you respond, giving him a comforting smile to keep his embarrassment at bay. He nods gratefully, and you're quickly pulled out of the store by your best friend. 

"Happy Halloween!" You shout over your shoulder, accompanied by the chime of the bell over the door. 

"You too," he calls back, letting out a soft sigh. 

---

20 Minutes Later -- The Party

Upon rounding the front of your car and stepping up onto the sidewalk outside of Willow's house, your attention is immediately caught by the numerous decorations that she put up last week. 

"Huh," you mumble, gazing up at the skeleton that towers above you, standing 12 feet tall. "I think it's safe to say that this is her favorite holiday…" 

"What makes you think that?" Your best friend plays, feigning ignorance as she pops up from behind a life-sized, animatronic Jason Voorhees. 

"I don't know," you tut, admiring Willow's hard work a little longer. "Just a feeling." 

Y/BFFs/N giggles in her unique way, making you smile at the sound as the two of you make your way up the path towards the house. You gaze down at your feet, careful to step on the stones of the walkway and avoid the motion-activated hands that scramble out of the weeds to grab unsuspecting guests. 

Having known Willow your entire childhood, you've grown used to her ways. 

*knock knock*

A strong, iconic synth bassline sounds off from inside, filling the otherwise quiet night around you with its catchy beat as you wait to be let in. Its sound is well known, and you almost instantly recognize it as "Sweet Dreams" by the Eurythmics.

A few seconds later, you hear clambering from inside, followed by concerning groans and shouted apologies. 

Y/BFFs/N arches a skeptical brow at you, perfectly mirroring your thoughts.

Directly after, the door swings open in a flash, and you're nearly tackled by a whizz of curly hair. 

"There you guys are!" Willow shrieks, pulling the two of you close as she nuzzles her face against your cheeks. 

"Yep, here we are," you struggle out, nearly being strangled in her tight grip. She responds by squeezing you even tighter, blinded by her joy at seeing you again. 

After all, it's been a while since all three of you have had the opportunity to spend the night partying together like this. 

"Can't… breathe," Y/BFFs/N squeaks, successfully getting Willow to release you. 

"Sorry," she apologizes, stepping back. "I'm just so happy you're here." 

The freckles that spread across the bridge of her nose look especially adorable with the blush she's sporting, and her shy grin makes you forget about the near-fatality you just encountered moments before. 

"We're happy to be here," you reassure her, returning her smile. 

Your best friend agrees from beside you, nodding her head with a happy look of her own. "Believe it or not, we've missed your weirdness." She adds, cocking her head to the side. 

Willow giggles again, and her eyes crinkle up into those half crescents that could surely melt even the iciest of hearts. She's practically sunshine in human form, and you have to resist the urge to shield your eyes. 

"Yo, Willow! Who's at the door?" 

Jackson.

You feel your best friend tense beside you, and you subtly pat her leg to calm her down. 

Willow falls silent, though her lips go through the beginning stages of answering him; they open and purse, but she quickly halts her reply and shuts her mouth. She knows of Y/BFFs/N's crush on him, and she doesn't want to say the wrong thing. 

Plus, if the lovesick girl wants to run and hide in the bushes, Willow's silence could buy her some time to slip away. 

But alas, she doesn't. 

Jackson appears in the doorway a mere 5 seconds after asking his question with a beer clutched in his hand. He moves to lean against the wooden frame as his pearly smile beams at you, and Y/BFFs/N audibly swallows at the sight. 

For someone who's usually so confident, she can really be shy sometimes. 

"Lovely to see you, ladies," he greets, putting his free hand in front of him as he bows. His accent is modeled after that of Jack Sparrow, as is his surprisingly well designed costume.

You nod back at him. "Hey, Jackson. Long time no see." 

You elbow your best friend when she remains silent for a beat too long, and the action snaps her back to reality. 

"Yeah, hey Jackson." Her voice is quiet -- she doesn't trust it to refrain from cracking.

He smiles, not failing to notice the nervous aura that's quickly taken over the girl beside you. Her eyes nearly pop out of her head when he gives her a curious once-over, and you take that as your cue to save her from the impending embarrassment that's lurking just around the corner. 

"Alright, guys!" You clap, stepping forward. "Let's get to partying." 

Her shoulders relax, and you feel her slip her hand into yours as you enter the house, squeezing twice as a silent thank you. 

15 Minutes Later

Willow stands beside you in the kitchen, mixing a few things together in one of the millions of red solo cups that she bought for tonight. You sneak a peek over her shoulder at the concoction, seeing its light blue color turn purple-ish as she adds a new liquor into the equation. 

In comparison to typical house parties, this one is relatively small; most of the rooms are filled with people, but it's a comfortable amount. Maneuvering around the place is fairly easy, which is always a plus when you're coexisting with sweaty, drunk people. 

"Willow, love, why did you buy so many cups?" You ask, toying with the ripped plastic packaging of one of the stacks. 

"You know I like to be prepared," she laughs, brushing off her major miscalculation. "Plus I can just use the rest of them at my next party." 

You nod, knowing she's right. "Are you having another soon?" 

"I think so. Jiu and her crew are coming back in a couple weeks, so I thought I'd surprise them with one." 

You scoff, humor laced in the sound. "What, they didn't get enough partying done at their university already?" 

Willow turns around, grinning at you as she hands you your drink. "Evidently campus police keep a close eye on them. Siyeon whined about that a lot when she called me." 

"Sounds like her," you chuckle into your cup as you take a sip. 

PFFT

"Eww, Willow! What did you put in this?!" 

Your spit take didn't land on anyone, thankfully, but it did capture the attention of some people nearby. You wave a hand at them as a silent apology, and they go back to their previous tasks. 

The curly headed prankster covers her mouth, though the action does a terrible job of quieting her maniacal laughter. 

"You're lucky Y/BFFs/N isn't over here," you say, wiping your lips with the back of your hand. "She'd avenge me." 

Willow uses a napkin to dab the tears of laughter from her eyes. "Why else do you think I waited until she was busy with Jackson?" She asks, motioning to her lounge room across the foyer. 

You look inside, spotting Y/BFFs/N holding a pool cue in her hand as Jackson sinks another shot into one of the corner pockets. 

The sight reminds you of the pep talk and 2 shots of liquid courage you gave her earlier, and how she disappeared with the promise to make a move and actually talk to him. Now, she looks completely absorbed in whatever banter they're sharing, and although your violated taste buds still ache from the sickly-sweet mixture that Willow made, you wouldn't want her to be anywhere else. 

You can get your own revenge. 

Sneaking a glance around the kitchen, you search for something to help with your retaliation. A small package of streamers lays abandoned on the island, forgotten to be put up earlier, and you slyly grin. Their ribbons sparkle with glitter, shimmering as the multicolored party lights stream in from the living room and land on them. 

It's as if the universe is putting a spotlight on them, just for you. 

After side eyeing Willow one final time to ensure that she isn't catching onto your plan, you act quickly. She stands beside the counter, right where you left her, and you dart to the island to grab the streamers. Your fingertips soon gain purchase on the packaging, and you tear it open in one swift motion. 

Her gaze locks onto yours just as you near her, but it's far too late for her to get away. 

"Take this!" You declare, upending the baggie atop her head. She shrieks as they cascade down her body, getting caught in the creases and wrinkles of her costume as they go. A small wave of glitter tumbles out of the bag as well, coating her hair and clothes. 

Boy, that'll be fun to try and get out later. 

Her head slowly raises once you finish your assault and place the baggie on the countertop beside you, but the look in her eye is unlike anything you've ever seen. 

"You're dead," she warns. Just as the smile drops from your face, an even larger, more sinister one begins forming on hers. 

The floor creaks beneath your feet slightly as you take a step back, and you know you have to high tail it out of there if you want to evade her. 

"Catch me if you can!" You shout, springing into action. You turn around and dart out of the room, gliding past numerous partygoers in the hall. 

Willow's choice of footwear works in your favor, you soon realize; the sharp rapping sound of her heels pierces the air behind you, serving as a tell of how much distance is between you.

Her unstable platforms buy you a little time, and you thank the universe as you rush through the living room and back towards the foyer. You plan to cut across it and hide out in one of the bathrooms until she drops her plan for revenge. 

A grin pulls at your cheeks as you skid into one of the walls, looking like a character from Scooby-Doo as you will your feet to work correctly again and get you to safety. Willow laughs behind you, joining in on the fun. 

"Perfect," you mutter under your breath, spotting a clear path through the foyer. It leads under the stairs, and you can see the open door of the bathroom from where you are. 

Your feet take you past a handful of drunk people, bobbing and weaving through them with ease, before you're racing towards the restroom to take cover. 

Before you can make it there, though, you collide with someone rather abruptly as they step straight into your path. 

Your eyes shut tightly as you brace yourself for impact with the ground, but it never comes. The person reaches out and catches you before you can hit the floor, and a soft apology slips past their lips as they scoop you up. 

Upon hearing that uniquely feminine voice speak its regret again, you peek your eyes open. What you see nearly makes the woman's effort to keep you upright moot; she's so gorgeous that your legs almost give out from underneath you. 

Dirty blonde locks cascade over her shoulders in soft waves, half-mussed, half-pristine from your run-in. Her doe eyes are a velvety chocolate color, and you find yourself getting lost in them. Flickers of red show in them, illuminating almost rhythmically the longer she admires you. 

Are those contacts? You ask yourself. They have to be. 

She seems to be just as affected by your presence as you are of hers. 

"Y/N, I'm coming to get you!" 

Willow does her best to sound like a villain from a 90s horror film as she clambers her way closer to you, bumping into a few people on the way. You're brought out of your stupor by her rapidly approaching footsteps, and you take a step away from the woman. Her hands fall from your waist, where they had previously been resting. 

Stealing a quick look at the bathroom, you feel your stomach turn.

Damnit. Someone's in there now. 

Screw this sexy stranger for distracting you. Now you'll have to deal with Willow's wrath. 

"What's wrong?" 

There's that voice again. 

Part of you wants to brush it off and slip away quietly, but an even bigger part of you is determined to stay where you are and tell her. Something about her pulls you in, and you're having a hard time denying it. 

"I need to hide. I glitter-fied my friend and now she's coming after me." 

The woman's plump lips pull back in a humored smile, and she nods as a chuckle leaves her. "Right," she says, like that's a common occurrence. "I can help, if you'd like." 

"How?" You ask, your brows momentarily knitting together in confusion. When she unties and opens the black cloak that's wrapped around her body, your breath catches. 

"You in?" She asks, side eyeing the foyer as Willow nearly careens into the Egyptian vase that her mother bought her last year for Christmas. 

You take a deep breath and hold your hand out to her just as Willow rounds the corner, and she swiftly pulls you in close before you can be spotted. She winds the cloak around both of your bodies, concealing your faces as the fur-lined hood falls atop your heads. 

Unconsciously, you wrap your arms around her waist and pull her flush up against you to further ensure your safety. She quietly grunts when she stumbles over her own feet, falling into you a little. 

"Sorry," she whispers, though her third apology of the night is unnecessary. You almost want to thank her for what happened.

Especially when her warm breath fans across your right cheek, where her head is angled. 

Every breath you take pushes you closer to each other, and the satin shirt she's wearing slides against your heated skin. She swallows thickly as one of your hands falls to the small of her back, testing the waters. 

When she shifts a little to encourage you, you're acutely aware of the thigh that's worked its way between your legs. 

When did that happen? 

You bite back a sigh as she just smirks, quietly shushing you. 

Willow thunders by, shouting your name and threatening to throw you into the pool when she tracks you down. You want to laugh at that, but you'd honestly welcome it right now. Some cold water would surely bring you to your senses after being led astray by this goddess in front of you. 

Her footsteps grow distant as she makes her way outside, still searching.

The two of you remain as you are for a couple more minutes until you're certain that the coast is clear, and then you part. When she lowers the cloak, you look away; a deep blush has worked its way up your neck and across your cheeks, and letting her see it would surely make you die of embarrassment. 

She keeps her eyes on you as she reties the cover around herself, attempting to get a read on you. The bashful aura that's befallen you is cute, no doubt, but she can sense your arousal. She can smell it on you, and the scent is beginning to drive her crazy. 

You fiddle with the sleeves of your costume, readjusting them nervously.

"So, um… thanks," you say, sneaking a glance up at her. 

The red hues in her eyes are even more pronounced now, and the sight makes you press further into the wall behind you -- the one that you were previously pushed up against. 

"No problem," she smiles, showing off her pearly white teeth. Two of them catch your attention; a set of fangs now shine, looking alluring and threatening all at the same time. 

There's only one issue: you're certain that they weren't there when you first bumped into her. When did she put them in? And why do they look so real?

The feeling of her hand landing on your forearm pulls you away from the millions of questions that're firing off in your head right now. 

"May I ask your name?" She politely requests, dipping her head down sweetly. 

"Y/N," you breathe out, quickly realizing that you'd do just about anything she asked you to. 

"Y/N." She repeats, allowing the letters to blend in her mouth as they roll off her tongue. She looks satisfied for some reason as she says it again, trying it out. 

"I'm Lisa." 

"It's nice to officially meet you," you smile, reaching a hand out. Her touch is gentle but firm as she takes it, shaking it with ease. 

"Likewise, beautiful." 

The grin on your face only widens at the name, and you pull your hand away out of fear of what she might do next. She's already putting you under her spell, and you're sure that another touch would have you fully entranced. 

She studies you with pursed lips for a moment, clearly debating on something. Her eyes flicker over the dips and curves of your body as a smirk grows on her lips. 

"What are you thinking?" You question, curious but teasing. 

"That I'd love to have your body on mine again." 

She's bold, and she says it like the fact it is. No shame, no bashfulness. Just true, honest desire. 

You bite the inside of your cheek at her bravery, silently thanking the universe for it. The likelihood of you gaining the courage to make a move is slim to none even in the best cases, and this was no exception. She already has your heart skipping beats and you've only known her a few minutes. 

"How about a dance?" She suggests, quirking a brow. The look on her face disarms your defenses, and you take a deep breath before agreeing to your demise. 

"That sounds wonderful." 

She dips her head again, hiding her face away momentarily, and you think it's the cutest thing ever. 

She's shy all of a sudden as her cool demeanor slips up a bit, and that never happens. You might just be her downfall, too.

She holds an elbow out and steps forward, allowing you to link your arm with hers and cuddle in close. 

Her eyes scan across the living room as she studies it, but she's unimpressed. 

Sweaty, winding bodies thrash around to some upbeat pop song that's been overplayed on every radio station in town for weeks now, and the idea of taking you there puts her off. 

When a drunk boy comes into view with a dildo strapped to his forehead, her mind is officially made up. 

"Let's go outside," she says, leading you through the patio doors. 

A quaint gazebo sits on one side of the yard, and the dance floor that Willow's family installed a couple years ago occupies the other. Both are decorated with string lights in combinations of gold, purple, black, and orange. Other ornaments adorn the surfaces as well, and you smile when you spot a comically large spider sat atop the gazebo's roof. 

"Where would you like to go?" Lisa asks, keeping her voice low. It's calm and deep, running a chill through you. 

Softer music plays out here, offering a totally different vibe than inside. Some couples -- many of them introverted, assumably -- sway on the dancefloor as the DJ that Willow hired takes a sip of her drink on the raised stage. She adjusts a few switches slowly, not rushing for a second.

"Let's try the gazebo," you decide, glancing over your shoulder at Lisa. She's looking away, but you don't think anything of it as the two of you fall in step with one another on your way over. 

Shit, Lisa thinks to herself. 

Her plans to come to this party, feed, and make a quick getaway are totally derailed. She'd hoped to find a victim that she was attracted to but didn't like, if that even makes sense, and feed like the animal she is. Then she would leave them like all the rest, drained but still alive, and slip away. 

But now she's met you, and any desire for those plans have been thrown out the window. 

You interest her, and that doesn't happen often. She hasn't met someone who's been capable of doing that in years, and she's intrigued. Something about you just pulls her in, inexplicably, and she knows her feelings would be glaringly obvious if you saw her face right now. 

"Woah, look at this," you sigh, stepping out of her hold to check the place out. A bench runs the perimeter of the gazebo, only stopping at the doorway, and the lights look even prettier from inside. They shimmer, looking like star showers as their strings hang down in the windowless openings of the building. 

Lisa quickly learns that she loves seeing you like this. Your eyes are alight, and your sweet smile of wonder warms her heart. Her hands slip into her pockets as she eventually manages to take her eyes off you, following your lead as she admires the decorations. 

She does a twirl, looking around. 

"It's gorgeous." 

"I know, right? This is totally up Willow's alley," you say, grinning at the mental image that you can conjure up of her giddily spiffing the scene up. 

"I'll have to thank her for making it look so special, then," Lisa says, smiling. The place really makes you feel like you're in your own little world; everything about it is just right. The ambience, the decor, the company… it’s perfect, and Lisa's content with how the evening is playing out. 

Her fingers skate down your arm as she nears you, trekking their way down to your palm. She takes your hand and spins you, watching with admiration as your hair flows in the breeze. Now facing her, you thread your fingers together around the back of her neck as she encircles your waist with her arms. 

"Why have I never seen you around?" You ask sincerely, looking up at her. 

She hesitates briefly. "My university is a few towns over. I just come here to visit my family every few months." 

Not a total lie, she thinks to herself. 

"And stop by terrible parties like this, of course." You add, smirking. 

She shakes her head at that. "No, I can't say I do. I just decided to check this one out on my way to my friend's house." She explains. 

Underneath your cloak, her hands find their way to the small of your back. One stays put while the other dips a little lower, testing the waters. 

"And besides," she starts again, feeling you pull her closer. "Meeting you here automatically makes this an awesome party. Not terrible."

"Cheeeesy!" You scrunch your face up and groan, making her laugh. 

"Maybe, but it's the truth." 

"Sure, Lisa." 

She shakes her head and you laugh lightly together, still swaying about. You hold her close enough to rest your head on her shoulder, and the pads of your thumbs rub small circles on the sensitive skin of her neck. She hums at the feeling, and you take note of the way she relaxes in your arms. 

The night breeze appears again, performing a flowing dance of its own as it lulls past you in waves. A slight chill resides in it, mixed with a generous amount of the day's sweet, fading heat, and you're at peace. 

The slow song that had been playing across the yard ends delicately, parting with some melodic feature that resembles a warm embrace, and it blends seamlessly into the next song. 

Turning Page, you recognize it as.  

Huh, how ironic. One of your favorites. 

Lisa's lips brush against your cheek as she turns her head slightly, whispering, "I like this one, too." 

How did she know? You ask yourself. You hadn't said it out loud… 

Maybe she's just a good guesser. Yeah, that's gotta be it. 

You feel yourself melt as she begins singing the words to you. It's hushed and sentimental -- meant only for your ears to hear, and that makes it even more special to you. 

"If I had only felt the warmth within your touch"

She croons, pressing her cheek against your warm skin. You blush, catching yourself when you remember what the next line of the song is. 

"If I had only seen how you smile when you blush" 

She brings a hand up to cup your cheek in her palm, and her other arm remains around you, holding you tenderly. 

"Or how you curl your lip when you concentrate enough"

Now, her thumb runs across your bottom lip. You look into her eyes and find them an even deeper shade of red than they had been before, but it doesn't frighten you for some reason. She glances down at your mouth again, fighting her impatience as she waits for permission from you. 

"I would have known what I was living for all along"

You nod and lace your fingers in her locks, and she doesn't waste another second. 

She leans in, humming against your lips when they meet hers for the first time. Her lipgloss spreads across them upon contact, smudging its precise application, but she doesn't seem to care in the slightest. She draws you in closer, and you bring both of your hands around to cup her face as you deepen the kiss. 

Her mouth is welcoming against yours, and it moves languidly as you get adjusted to one another. Every move makes you feel dizzier than the one before it, and swarms of butterflies take flight in your stomach with no signs of stopping. 

She nips at your bottom lip as her hands dip far lower than before, now kneading your ass as your kisses continue to work her up. 

"Fuck," you curse, breaking away from her lips to catch your breath. She's stolen it all from you, and yet she's still not ready to give you a rest; her mouth drops to your jaw, embracing your skin there before moving down to your neck. 

She doesn't realize how dangerous the game she's playing truly is until it's almost too late. 

Her lips press to the area just above your pulsepoint, where she's learned over the years that blood pumps the hardest and tastes the sweetest. She draws it into her mouth, swirling her tongue over the area as her ears perk up at the breathless sound of your moans. They spur her on, and she nips at the skin, surely leaving a hickey. 

Her senses become even more clouded when you say her name, the title caught somewhere between a whine and command, and she feels the strong impulse to claim you. The sensation is overwhelming, and she knows you can feel it too. 

Your hands tug on the collar of her shirt as she lets her fangs fully extend, no longer suppressing them. They rake across your pulsepoint, making you shiver against her. 

"Please…" 

That's all you manage to get out before they pierce your skin, eliciting a whimper from you. Blood fills her mouth instantly, sliding across her taste buds in velvety waves and calming her constant craving. Your hands tighten in her hair, and the delicious twinge of pain that it provides only encourages her more. 

Your blood is different than anything she's ever tasted; it's richer -- sweeter. A throaty groan leaves her as she savors it, and you shut your eyes in pleasure. It's addicting, but she knows she has to stop herself before she hurts you. If she continues like this much longer, she won't have the willpower to let go. 

She retracts her fangs as she licks your taste from them, and then you feel her warm tongue clean the wound she made. It stings a bit, but in all the right ways.

When she pulls back to look at you, she finds your eyes half-lidded and a pleased smile on your face. It nearly kills her, then and there. 

Her gaze flickers back to your neck to admire the hickie she made earlier, but what she sees surprises her. Below it is a darker, more prominent marking that she's only seen other vampires leave behind before. 

Definitely not a hickie.

Your brows furrow as you look at her neck as well, noticing a faint outline of something growing darker by the second. Blinking a few times to ensure that you aren't hallucinating, you find that it's really there. 

"Lisa, what's on your neck?" You ask. 

"A soulmate mark." She responds, feeling a sense of belonging settle over her as she looks at you again. You just confirmed her suspicions by asking that.

"Same as yours," she smiles.

What's your wattpad acc?

I just added it to the latest announcement post, but I'll put it here as well for everyone wanting to know:

Ya_Girl_17

Thank you for asking :)

Must've Been The Wind

Requested By Anon: "Heyyy :) can I request a scenario where the story based about the song from Alec Benjamin 'must have been the wind' with fem!reader (idol) x Rosé? I also want to say, that I love you work!!"

Pairing: Rosé x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 8,795

Warnings / Misc. -- Abuse, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

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

A/N: Hey, gang! I'm feeling generous today, so here's a second upload for you 😌 I didn’t notice until after writing this request that it said "idol" for the Reader, so that's the only thing that's different. This is a non-idol AU. I hope you still enjoy, anon! Let me know what you guys think 💜 ♡ Happy Reading ♡

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Wednesday, 2:49 PM

"Thanks again, Y/BFF/N. I owe you one." You smile, putting down the last of your moving boxes. Your quaint little apartment is filled with them, and you'll be spending the next few days unpacking everything. 

"You owe me like 10 favors, but sure." They grin at you, stepping closer to wrap you in a hug. Strong arms envelop you in a warm embrace, easing any fears you might have about being on your own for the first time. 

"I'm really gonna miss your lame ass, you know?" They say, their cheek pressed to yours. 

"Who wouldn't?" You ask as you pull back, wiggling your eyebrows dorkily. 

They laugh their signature laugh, one that you've both spent your youth making fun of, and you try to commit it to memory. You'd like to think that you'll see them often, just like you did when you went to school together, but you know the reality of life. 

"I'm gonna miss you, too. A lot." You look into their eyes sincerely, having had your fun before. They're one of the only people you'd trust with anything, so being apart will prove difficult. 

"Yah," they push your shoulder a little, tearing up. "You're making me soft, quit it." 

You giggle, "Alright, enough with this. Let's go eat our takeout before you have to go later."

They light up at that, deciding to race you to the kitchen. Their maniacal laughter bounces off the walls as you chase after them, knowing they'll make it there first and call dibs on most of your favorite food.

You round the corner, nearly crashing into the doorframe as you struggle to stop your momentum. "I'll tell your sister about the time you flushed her fish down the toilet and told her the dog ate it!"

They slowly turn around and narrow their eyes at you, their fingertips still resting on the brown paper bag. "You wouldn't dare." 

"I would," you raise your head, challenging them. You fish your phone out of your back pocket, scrolling through your contacts before locating their sister's number and turning it to face them. "Back away from the bag," you instruct like an officer, hovering your finger over the call button. "I don't wanna have to do this." 

They put their hands up, seemingly surrendering. Just as you're within arm's length of the bag, they pounce. 

"SIKE!" They swerve around you, narrowly avoiding your hands as you reach for their sweater. 

"GET BACK HERE!" You shout, now chasing them towards the living room. 

-------

Your legs are tucked underneath your body as you continue munching on the tasty food, sitting next to your best friend on the couch. They're sprawled out, somehow comfortable even though their position looks anything but. 

"Come on, that lamb is raw!" They shout at the TV, just as Gordon Ramsay says the same thing and reprimands the terrified chef. Ah yes, Hell's Kitchen. One of your favorite shows to watch together. 

You laugh, bringing the last bite of lo mein up to your lips with your chopsticks. 

After finishing off the crab rangoon that you were sharing, your friend looks up at you. 

"Y/N/N…"

"What do you want?" You say, pretending to be annoyed already.

"Do you have any dessert?"

You purse your lips, taking a moment to think. "Mmm, you're out of luck, bud. I'm pretty sure there's a snack bar in the lobby, though, if you wanna give your girl some money to grab something." You bat your eyelashes at them. 

They groan, but ultimately decide that they'd rather get a treat than go without. "Fine," they huff, reaching towards the coffee table for their wallet. "You know what I like." 

You nod, taking the cash from their hand before standing up. They yell a thank you to you as you unlock the door, and you blow them a kiss in return. 

--

Rows of shelves greet you as you enter the room, all filled to the brim with just about any snack you could think of. Sweet, savory, spicy, sour -- they just about have it all. The back wall of the convenient room is made up of a few refrigerators, stocked with soda, water, dairy products, and other staples. The check-out desk at the front has other essentials that you might be in need of, and you're thankful for this little place. It puts you at ease, in the case that you forgot something at home. 

You scan the aisles until you come across the candy, and soon your arms are full of all of your friend's favorite sweets. Thankfully you have a lot in common with them -- you love a lot of the same foods, so you're essentially shopping for the both of you. 

"Where are you?" You ask yourself under your breath, now standing in front of the frozen section. Your eyes search the contents of the freezer, eventually landing on your prized possession. "Aha!" You exclaim, overjoyed. 

Your fingers come in contact with the box of ice cream bars, and you're quick to snatch them up. It's been a while since you've had them, so to say you're excited is an understatement. 

-

"Will this be all?" The attendant politely asks as he finishes scanning your items. You check over them one more time, but your eyes widen as you realize you forgot your friend's all time favorite treat. 

"One more thing, sorry!" You apologize, speeding back down to the candy aisle. A woman stands in the middle, right in front of the area you need to get to. She looks a bit timid as her eyes scan the shelves, and she toys with her fingers habitually. 

"Excuse me," you say softly, stepping past her to reach for a bag of gummy bears. 

She subtly flinches at the close contact, and you furrow your brows as you stand back up. Her gaze, once trained on the floor, now meets your own. 

She's absolutely stunning. 

Her blonde hair falls against her shoulders in perfect waves, and a couple strands come forward to frame her face. A few stray freckles trail across her nose and cheeks, paired with a beautiful rosey blush. She's adorable, and you feel your lips turn up into a small smile at the sight of her. 

"I'm sorry," she apologizes almost immediately, as if it's out of habit; her eyes dart back down to the floor, and you feel your heart break at her actions. 

Something clearly isn't right. 

Just as you open your mouth to assure her that she has nothing to apologize for, you see it. 

A bruise -- harsh designs of purple against her fair skin -- peeking out of one of the sleeves of her sweater. It's in the shape of a handprint -- like someone grabbed her violently. 

Your chest tightens at the realization, and you're momentarily rendered speechless. 

"I'm sorry," she repeats, bowing lightly as she starts to back away, "I've gotta get going now." With that, your first encounter with the woman is over before it even really had the chance to begin. You stand there for a second as the gravity of the situation sinks in, and you wonder if she's a resident here, too. If she is, you vow to befriend her and make sure she's alright. 

----

"Took you long enough," your friend jokes, sitting up to greet you as you walk through the door. Upon seeing the troubled look on your face, though, their smile drops. 

"What's wrong, dude?" 

"I saw a woman when I was getting our snacks. She had a bruise on her arm; I think someone's hurting her." 

You've seen enough movies and tv to know the signs of abuse, and it's a no brainer in this case. 

"People get bruises all the time, Y/N. Are you sure?" They ask, walking with you towards the kitchen to unpack the bags. 

"I mean, I'm pretty sure. It looked like a handprint." 

Their eyes widen a bit, and you scowl, clenching your jaw a few times. If there's anything you hate in this world, it's abusers. 

"Does she live here?"

"I'm not sure. I'm gonna keep an eye out for her, though." 

They nod in agreement, both of you silently processing the situation. You hope to see her again soon.

Friday, 9:37 PM

"Yeah mom, I promise I'm alright. I just settled in to do some work, actually." 

You put your phone in the crook of your neck, making sure to press your cheek against it and prevent it from falling as you rifle through some of the papers on your desk. Your mother continues talking about how much she's going to miss you now that you've moved out, and you just shake your head and smile. 

"My baby girl, all grown up," she tuts, likely frowning in the comic, overdramatic way she always does. "What am I supposed to do now? It'll be boring here without you."

"Ah, eomma, stop being sad. You know I can't stand it." You press your lips together in a disappointed scowl, though she can't see you from the other end of the telephone line. "I'll visit often, and we can call everyday. Plus you have dad to keep you entertained while I'm gone." 

"Y/N, I love your appa, but sometimes he's as interesting as a wet sock." 

The corners of your lips tug up at that, and you have to hold back your laughter. 

"I HEARD THAT!" Your father shouts, sounding far away. You hear your mother let out a little scream, clearly not expecting to have been caught. "AHH!" 

Both of you snicker together for a moment before she decides to address him again. "Honey, you know I love you." 

"Yeah, yeah," he says, his voice coming through clearer as he approaches the phone. "Let me talk to my daughter; she's the only one in this house who thinks I'm interesting." 

You can practically see him pouting like a 5 year old, and the familiar interaction warms your heart. You already miss them and it's only been a couple days since you left. 

"How's my little girl doing? Make any new friends yet?" He asks, his voice rich and comforting. The deep tones of it carry across the line, putting you at ease in an instant. 

Your mind wanders back to the woman from the lobby, and you bite the inside of your cheek. You haven't seen her again since then. 

"No, not yet. I know I'm great and all, but 2 days is hardly enough time to make friends, dad." You grin lightly, a teasing lilt to your voice. 

"Well I'm sure you'll make plenty soon enough. You're a great person to have around; anybody would be lucky to call you a friend."

"What is it with you people being so sentimental now?" You joke, though inside you're touched by his words. 

"That's it, I'm going back to my office!" He declares, handing the phone back to your mom. 

"Nooo, dad, I was kidding. I love you." You laugh into the line, your eyes crinkling up in amusement. 

"Mhm. Love you too, kid." 

He leaves your mother to finish her conversation with you, and two hours later, you're done. With a heavy sigh, you lean back in your chair and rub the aching muscles of your neck. You quickly realize how thirsty you are, now that you aren't occupied with juggling a convo with your mom while attempting to finish work, and you decide to go grab a drink. 

The cold surface of your water bottle chills your hand as you stand in the kitchen, taking a long sip of it. Sneaking a glance at your watch, you see that it's almost midnight. A quiet curse is muttered under your breath; you still have some things to do before bed, and you have a busy day of unpacking lined up for tomorrow. 

Just as you bring your hands up to rub your face, a loud crash can be heard from somewhere above you. Caught off guard, you jump and tense up, clutching your hand to your chest. You stay still and listen in to see what it was, and shouting follows soon after. A man's gravelly voice roughly growls something out, and it's followed by a meek sounding, feminine voice. 

You'd know it anywhere -- it's the woman from before. 

After listening in a bit longer, you gather through the bits and pieces of broken conversation that you can hear that she took too long getting him something, and now he's angry. He continues on, and your blood runs cold as you hear a loud thud from directly above you; someone just fell to the ground. 

You know you can't just stand by; grabbing the key to your apartment and hastily shoving it in your pocket, you take your phone and head out the door. Deciding to skip the elevator, you dart up the stairs and attempt to locate which apartment the noise is coming from. Guided by his insults that have now slowed down a bit, only being barked out occasionally, you manage to find it. 

Apartment 208.

*knock knock*

"This had better be my pizza." He spits before opening the door, coming face to face with you. 

"Who're you?" He asks, clearly unimpressed as his eyebrows furrow together. He reeks of beer and other filth.

"Just a resident from downstairs," you inform, doing your best not to come off too hostile. It's hard, but you don't want to alert him and make him turn you away before you can ensure that the woman is okay. "I heard some noise and I wanted to come check on you guys." 

"It must've been the wind," the woman says, coming into view behind him. She stands halfway across the room, leaning against the open doorway of the living room. 

The night has been completely calm so far; not even a slight breeze has rolled in. 

You curtly nod, letting your eyes travel over her frame as she slightly trembles. A cut is visible on her forehead, and your blood boils as you see it. She meets your gaze before looking away soon after, seemingly afraid of holding eye contact for too long. 

"We're fine," the man says, pushing your shoulder to redirect your attention away from her. "You can go now." 

Taking a breath, you decide to relent; at least for now. Antagonizing him right off the bat will only endanger her more; you have to be smart about this. "Alright," you say, looking to her one last time as you finish your thought, "I'm right downstairs if you need anything." 

She sends you a soft, thankful smile. It's the first one you've seen from her, and your heart warms at the cute sight. 

The moment ends far too quickly when the man mumbles something unintelligible and shuts the door in your face, narrowly avoiding hitting you with it. You shake your head and take a few steps down the hall, making him think you walked away. Now out of sight of the peephole, you can make sure he doesn't do anything else before you head back downstairs. 

A few minutes pass with no more fighting, and you retreat back to your room with a mind full of racing thoughts. You just hope she's okay. 

A Few Days Later

"I told you not to bother me when I'm on the phone!" The man screams, stomping around above you. 

"I'm sorry, I was just asking what you wanted for dinner tonight!" For once, you can actually hear her clearly; she's talking a little louder now, not sticking to whispering. 

"Are you talking back to me now, bitch?" He sounds taken aback, and angrily so.

"No, Nam-gi. I'm sorry." 

Time comes to a grinding halt when you hear a loud smack ring out, followed by a thud. Your heart leaps in your chest, your breath held tightly in your throat as you wait to see what happens next. 

"I'm going out. This place had better be fucking spotless when I get back, and I expect a warm meal to be waiting. You'll regret it if you don't listen to me." He kicks something across the room as he makes his exit, leaving another thing for her to clean up. 

You watch out your window as he leaves the building, lighting a cigarette before climbing into his rusty pickup truck. His jet black hair is messy and unkempt, completely in line with the image his rumpled clothes give off. He drives away a couple minutes later, and you wait until you hear movement again from upstairs to go check on her. 

Soft sobs greet you as you stand outside the door, your fist raised in preparation to knock. You give the door two soft taps, trying not to scare her. 

"I'm okay, you don't have to worry." She says from the other side, not even bothering to open it. Both of you know you'll want to help her as soon as you see the state he's left her in, and she doesn't want to get you involved. It's easier for her to deal with it alone; she's too exhausted to open up to someone else. 

"No, you aren't. You don't have to shut me out, you know?" You say more than ask, trying to reassure her. "He's gone. I just want to help you clean things up, if nothing else." 

She knows as soon as she opens that door and you walk into her life, you won't be walking back out. When she first met you, she felt at ease for the first time in a long time. It's hard to explain, but your presence made her feel safe; untouchable. Not to mention how attractive she finds you. She wants to let you in, but she's scared. 

"Please. I'll leave as soon as you say the word; just let me give me you a hand." 

After a few tense seconds that feel like an eternity, she opens the door. Half of her face is visible as she cracks it open, and you raise your head to look at her. 

"I don't know how long he'll be gone, but he's probably going out with his friends. They usually go bar hopping."

"At 5PM on a Tuesday?" You raise a brow, cocking your head to the side.

"At 5PM on a Tuesday." She affirms, nodding.

Following that, she opens it the rest of the way and lets you slip in, keeping her eyes cast down to the floor as she closes it and turns back around to face you. You notice her hesitancy to look at you, but it doesn't discourage you; you're determined to help her to the best of your ability. 

"Can I clean you up before we get started?" You ask, voice hesitant and gentle. It's obvious that she has injuries -- especially with the way that she's avoiding eye contact and keeping as much of her body covered as possible. "My mom's a nurse," you tell her, giving her a personal piece of info to help ease into the situation. "My bandaid-ing skills are out of this world, if I do say so myself," you joke, feeling some of the tension dissipate from the air around you when she cracks a small smile. 

"I suppose you can help, yes." She answers your question, finally raising her head. You do your best to hide the shock you feel upon noticing the gash on her cheek and the bruise underneath her right eye. Her eyes look sad; you must've let your emotion show too much. 

"Come with me." She leads the way to the bathroom before opening the cabinet and retrieving a small first aid kit. A quiet gasp can be heard as she stretches up to close it, and you see her wince in the mirror. Without thinking, you reach forward to steady her; she tenses up, and you apologize as you remove your hands. 

You have to be more careful. 

"It's okay," she says over her shoulder, slowly sitting down on the toilet. Her legs press up against the cool porcelain, offering a short reprieve from the aching tension in her muscles. The fall took a toll on her already injured body, and the effects are showing. 

You don't waste any time; after taking the supplies from her, you busy yourself with sterilizing the swabs you'll be using with alcohol and putting ointment on the pads of some band aids you find at the bottom of the kit. It's relatively bare, but you make do. 

"This'll hurt," you warn her, settling down in front of her on your knees. You were going to stand, but you figure she'll feel more at ease this way; you want to make sure she knows she's in control now. Towering over her seemed like an undesirable choice. 

"Okay," she whispers, closing her eyes and balling her fists up at her sides in preparation. 

"Can I touch you?" 

"Yes." 

Carefully resting your hand against her uninjured cheek, you turn her head to allow yourself the most amount of access. The cotton swab brushes across her sensitive, broken skin, making her whimper and take her lip between her teeth. You scowl, hating that she's in pain again. Reminding yourself that it'll make her feel better in the end, you continue on with cleaning her wounds. 

Your last swipe must've hit an especially irritated spot, because she grips onto your forearm with a pained hiss. "I'm sorry…" you start, realizing in this moment that you don't even know her name. 

"Rosé. But you can call me Rosie." She finishes for you, slowly opening her eyes as the pain fades. Her brown orbs look like rich chocolate in the light of the bathroom, their unique hues brought out by the glow of the bulbs overtop of the mirror. Your arm twitches slightly, bringing her attention to her hand that's still holding onto you. 

"I'm sorry," she apologizes again, making you frown. 

"Hey," you reach forward, making sure not to move too quickly this time, and tilt her head up. "It's okay. You didn't do anything wrong; you don't have to apologize to me." It's easy to tell that she's been conditioned over time to be so obedient, and that fact works to make you angry. Nam-gi -- or whatever the hell his name is -- is undeserving of such a kind soul. You hope you get the chance to teach him a lesson someday. 

After placing the bandages on her face and wiping the rest of it to make sure nothing gets infected, you ask if there's anything else she wants you to look at. She sheepishly nods, and you assure her that you won't judge her or turn her away. 

She slowly lifts her shirt, revealing an angry looking bruise that reaches across a large portion of her abdomen. You'd be surprised if she doesn't have a broken rib -- that's how bad it is. 

"I can wrap it with a cloth to stabilize it, if you'd like. I don't think I have a big enough band aid for that." 

She laughs, genuinely thankful for your sense of humor. Although the action hurt her already sensitive body, she assures you that she enjoyed the joke. She can't remember the last time someone played around with her; needless to say, she doesn't want your time together to end anytime soon. 

You dig through the box until you find a gauze pad and wrap, and you kneel in front of her again. Her hands hold her shirt up to give you room to work, and you thank her. Placing the pad on top of the center of the bruise, where it's the darkest and a cut marks the middle, you begin wrapping the cloth around her torso to secure it. Her breath hitches as you lean in closer, repeatedly sliding the material into your other hand as you wind it around her body. The close proximity makes your heart pound a little harder, but you don't make it obvious; you don't want her to think your intentions are anything but pure. 

"There," you declare, smoothing the material out against her side. "All done." 

"Thank you…."

"Y/N." You tell her, just as she did earlier. "You can call me Y/N/N, if you want." 

"Alright, Y/N/N." Her accent wraps around the nickname in such a way that you instantly feel butterflies take flight in your stomach. 

"I-I hope that helps some." You mentally smack yourself for stuttering like a blushy schoolgirl, but your demeanor seems to be endearing to her. 

"It will. Nobody's ever really done anything like that for me. I appreciate it." 

"You shouldn't be injured in the first place, Rosie, but I'll always be here to patch you up." You rest a warm hand on her knee, and both of you look down to it after you realize what you did. She puts hers over yours, giving it a light squeeze. "Thank you." 

---

"Do I add more milk or butter?" You ask, scratching the back of your neck as you reread the instructions on the box for the millionth time. Rosé grins at your confusion as she approaches you, already comfortable in your presence. She looks over your shoulder at the mac and cheese in front of you, seeing that it's too thick. "Milk." 

"Chef Rosie to the rescue," you say like an announcer, stirring the ingredients in with a smile. 

After cleaning up the mess Nam-gi made, you asked Rosie to let you stay and help fix dinner, just in case he got back sooner than she predicted. If he hurt her for getting distracted by your presence and not having the food done, you'd never forgive yourself. She agreed to let you help, and now dinner is almost finished.

"Mmm, taste this," you instruct, swallowing the tasty bite that you stole as you bring the spoon up to her mouth. Her plump lips wrap around the utensil as she takes the food off it, momentarily mesmerizing you. You eventually snap to and shake your head, reprimanding yourself for already developing a crush. 

"It's yummy," she compliments, swiping her tongue across her lip to gather up any remaining cheese. The dish isn't hard to make, but she can't deny that yours has a special quality to it that she hopes to taste again. 

After setting the various dishes onto the stove and flipping the burners to "keep warm", you wash and dry your hands. Leaning against the counter, you look over at Rosé as she unties her apron. 

"Thanks again, for everything. You helped me more than you know." She smiles, playing with her fingers again. This time, though, it's different; she doesn't look afraid or skittish. She's shy now, but for entirely different reasons than when she was in the shop. 

"This might sound weird, but can I hug you?" 

You nod, opening your arms. "Of course, Rosie." She bashfully dips her head down as she walks over, resting it on your shoulder as she wraps her arms around your neck. Carefully avoiding her tender spots, you loop your arms around her waist, easing her into your embrace. Her body presses to yours softly, and you fit together like you were always meant to be this way. You rub soothing circles on her back, feeling the tension leave her muscles as she sinks further into your arms. You offer a feeling of security that she doesn't have the luxury of experiencing very often; she's determined to soak it in as long as she can. 

"Thank you for letting me in today," you say quietly, both of you knowing the deeper meaning behind your words. 

"Thank you for being here." 

"Always." 

She pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, but not enough to slip out of your hold. 

"Y/N…" she starts, seemingly wanting to say something until her eyes fall to your lips. You quirk a brow at her, relieved to see her reciprocating your feelings from earlier. 

"Yes?" 

"I-"

The distinct sound of Nam-gi's truck fills the air outside, interrupting your moment. "Shit," you curse, gently using your foot to push yourself away from the counter, still keeping Rosie in your arms.

"I'll come back another day. I promise," you assure her, looking into her beautiful eyes. She's slipping back into the submissive state that she's been forced into for so long, and you hate it. The light in her eyes dims, further breaking your heart. 

"Bye Y/N." You frown, genuinely sad to have to leave her. She offers one last smile before stepping away, allowing her hand to slip out of yours. 

Before he can catch you, you slip out the door and run back down to your apartment. 

The night is quiet for once, and you're comforted by that fact to some degree. 

Several Weeks Later

The following weeks were filled with visits to Rosie whenever Nam-gi would leave for work or go out with his idiot friends, and the two of you grew undeniably closer. She opened up more to you, thankfully, and you did the same. She was thankful to have someone in her corner, and you were thankful that she let you be that person for her. 

Disaster struck, however, when you had to go out of town on a week-long work trip. The two of you never thought to trade numbers since you're neighbors, and she'd surely pay the price if he found out she was calling someone behind his back. So, for the entire time you were away, she was constantly on your mind. You lied awake at night, hoping she was okay and that he wasn't hurting her. 

Now, finally back home, you wait until he leaves for work to visit her. 

*knock knock*

You hear light footsteps approach the door, but she doesn't open it. 

Knitting your brows together, you greet her. "Hey, Rosie, it's me." 

"I think you should go away, Y/N." She says, sounding despondent. This version of her is a far cry from what she usually turns into whenever you come to see her, and it worries you. What did he do to her?

"Do you really want me to, or are you just scared?" 

That must've struck a nerve. You hear a sniffle from the other side of the door, and after a moment she responds, "I'm scared." 

"I'm right here, Rosé. I won't let anything happen to you. Just open up, please." You press a hand against the door, not realizing that she's doing the same on the opposite side. She rests her forehead against it as she wipes her tears. 

It opens to reveal a distraught looking Rosé, her eyes puffy and red and cheeks swollen. You close the door behind yourself, muttering a disappointed, "Oh, baby", as you pull her into your arms. Her body racks against yours with every strained breath she takes in, letting out an equally upsetting sob every time. 

"I m-missed you s-so much," she says through her tears, clinging onto you like her life depends on it. "He hurt me again, Y/N." You can tell something is different about this time -- you just don't know what. Her tone is different, and something in her aura is even more broken than normal. 

"What did he do?" You ask, stepping back to look her body over for wounds.

She just shakes her head, and a fresh batch of tears roll down her cheeks. Your heart sinks as you realize what happened. 

"I'm gonna kill him," you say, setting your jaw. Hitting her evidently wasn't enough for the sick bastard; he had to force himself on her, too. 

"Don't, Y/N. I can't have you getting hurt for me." 

"I'd bleed myself dry for you, Rosie. I don't care if I get hurt; I shouldn't have waited this long to stand up for you." You shake your head, disappointed in yourself. 

"I'm sick of the violence. I just want to get away from him; I just want peace." She says, wrapping her arms around herself to bring herself comfort. She looks so small and tired right now that you can't help but pity her. 

"I can't let him get away with what he's done, babe. I'll keep you out of it, don't worry."

"Just hold me, please." Her voice breaks as she makes the request, and you're agreeing in an instant. You pick her up in your arms and go to the couch, letting her cuddle into your side and share your warmth. Soft affirmations of your dedication to her are whispered into her ear, and you rub her back until her sniffles fade into jagged breaths every now and then, letting you know she fell asleep. 

"I love you, Rosie. I'm gonna protect you." You say against her temple, thinking she's far away in dreamland, where nothing can reach her. But she isn't; she's still awake, and the confession makes her heart soar. 

---

The sound of your alarm blaring wakes you up, and you sit up with a start. Rosé isn't in your arms anymore, and you instantly start to panic. The apartment is dark, with the only source of light coming from the fading sun that's streaming in through the window. It'll be setting any minute, and you know Nam-gi will be getting off work soon. 

"Rosie?" You ask into the darkness, feeling your way towards the kitchen. 

"In here, Y/N/N." Her soft voice sounds off from the bathroom, where you hear her washing her hands. Relief washes over you at that, and you let out a breath you didn't entirely realize you were holding. 

"Did you sleep well?" You ask, leaning against the doorframe beside her. She dries her hands with the fluffy towel you bought her not too long ago. She had to lie and say that she bought it, which earned her another slap to the face from Nam-gi. He doesn't like her spending his money. 

But she doesn't care. Your gift was thoughtful and sweet, and she loves you even more for it. 

She loves you. 

She realized it a few weeks ago, when you brought up your gaming systems and played with her for hours on end. It took her mind off of the hell she has to live through, and it made her feel like a kid again. You're her escape and safety net, and she'll forever have a special place in her heart for you. 

But that's precisely why she has to let you go. 

She can't have you getting in the middle of things with Nam-gi -- the only thing that could hurt her more than what he does is seeing you turn into someone like him. She knows you would never hurt her, but that's not what scares her; you wouldn't stop yourself from killing him, probably, and she wouldn't be able to stand seeing you so violent. She's found solace in the peace you bring her, and she isn't willing to put that on the line for something as unimportant as her happiness. In a perfect world, she's yours and you're hers. 

Sadly, though, this isn't a perfect world. 

"Yeah, I did. Thanks to you." She smiles, poking your shoulder cutely. 

"They don't call me the cuddle bug for nothing," you step forward, encircling her waist with your arms. 

She hugs you close, breathing in the familiar scent of your perfume one last time. Her lips brush against your cheek, leaving a small smudge of the strawberry lip balm that she always uses. She'll miss the little moments like these the most, she thinks. 

You pull back to look into her eyes, pushing a fallen strand of hair back behind her ear. The look of adoration on your face makes every ounce of her doubt melt away; deciding to throw caution to the wind, she leans forward, pressing her lips to yours. 

The soft, "finally", you mumble against her lips makes her smile, and she can't fight the giddy feeling in her chest. Saying goodbye to you will hurt more than she's prepared to deal with, but your kisses take her mind off of it, if only for a little while. You let her take control, knowing that she deserves to have the upper hand for once and be in charge. Her hands run down your body at a teasingly slow pace, eventually coming to rest underneath your shirt, against your lower back. You cradle her face in your hands, lulling her head to the side to kiss her deeper. 

Her heart thuds excitedly in her chest, and she wants to live here in this moment with you forever. The way your warm breath fans over the sensitive skin of her neck as you trail kisses across it has her weak in the knees, lightly dragging her nails down your back. 

"I love you." 

Your declaration comes in between kisses to her pulse point, where you fight the urge to leave a mark. You so badly want to leave a reminder for her to see anytime she looks in the mirror; something to take her back to this moment in time. But you don't; her safety is more important than any selfish claim you might want to put on her. 

A tear drops from her eye at that, and you pull back to look at her. 

"I love you, too." Finally saying it feels better than she ever imagined it could, and she considers herself lucky to have this moment with you. Not everyone gets to feel like this; it's a wonderful thing. 

Sliding your hands underneath her thighs, you lift her onto the sink and tenderly kiss her lips again. It's slow and gentle, and you pour every bit of your love for her into it. You're determined to make her feel valued and important, and you pray more than anything that she'll let you continue doing so. You can see her in your future, and that's saying something for you; that doesn't happen often. 

She links her legs around your hips to keep you secured in place, and she holds your face in her hands as she brushes her nose against yours. She squishes your cheeks adorably in her hands, loving how warm and radiant you look before her. "You mean the world to me." The back of her fingers lazily trail across your jaw, stroking it sweetly in tandem with her confession. 

"You're my world," you say, rubbing light circles on her hip. The two of you stay like that a little longer, holding onto every second you have together until the evening sky gives way to a velvety blanket of darkness, illuminated by the moon. As you say your goodbyes at the door, you kiss her hand, not thinking anything out of the ordinary. The innocent look in your eye breaks her heart; she hates herself for what she'll be doing to you, but she knows it has to be done. You're unassuming and pure in this moment, and she doesn't dare ruin it by crushing your spirit. She knows you'll fight for her, and she wouldn't be able to deny you if you did. So, with one final embrace, she watches you walk back down to your apartment, holding your hand up in the gesture for I love you in sign language as you disappear down the stairwell. 

2 Days Later 

"Rosieee," you sing-song, approaching her door with a smile. "I made your favorite." As you wait on her to open up, you sneakily lift the saran wrap up and grab a cookie, stuffing it in your mouth. When she doesn't respond after a couple minutes, you start to get worried. Maybe she's just sleeping, you reason with yourself. A sneeze from inside rings out, though, letting you know she's awake. Realizing she doesn't want you to come in, you put the plate down on the floor and leave her with a parting message, "I hope I didn't do something wrong. Enjoy the cookies, Rosé." 

She fights back the tears that threaten to fall from her eyes at the sadness of your tone. She knew from the beginning that this part would be hard; she just hopes it'll get easier soon. 

3 Days Later

After getting off work and hearing Rosie crying, you decided to turn your apartment upside down in search of your boombox. Aiming it at the ceiling -- the only thing physically keeping the two of you apart -- you play some of her favorite songs. You make sure to play "Lean On Me", too, remembering how much she loves it. 

A Week Later, In The Lobby Store

"Hey, Adam." You smile at the cashier in greeting, though it doesn't reach your eyes like usual. Rosé's been ignoring you, leaving you to worry in silence and wonder what you did wrong. You hope she comes around soon. 

Walking down the aisle that holds your favorite flavor of Ramune, you accidently bump into someone. 

"Sorry," you quickly apologize, reaching out to make sure they're okay. A soft hand slides into your own, and you hold on tight to keep them from falling. After getting your bearings back, you look up to find a mess of blonde hair before you. 

"Rosie?" You ask, sounding surprised and hurt. She brushes her hair out of her face, and you take a small step back, unsure of what she wants from you. Perhaps you had been too overbearing or rushed into things too fast. Who knows. 

"Hey," she starts, cringing at how awkward it sounds. 

"Yeah, hey," you reply, trying not to sound bitter as you step around her to grab the drink. Rosé catches your arm as you go to put it in the shopping basket resting against your hip. "I'm sorry," she says, releasing the words softly -- quietly. 

"You don't have to do that, Rosie. I understand that you want some space; it's okay," you carefully wiggle out of her grip, though you really want to stay beside her. Keeping her happy and comfortable is more important to you than your own feelings, and you'd do anything to ensure she stays that way; if being away from you offers her that, then so be it. She probably only said hello in the first place because she's afraid of being impolite; that or she's doing it for your sake. Fighting every fiber of your being, you step away, offering a parting word as you turn around to walk down the aisle and continue shopping. 

"Wait, don't go," she says, the words coming out a bit rushed as she reaches out for you. "Wha--" her lips brush against yours as she spins you around, making your eyes widen. You go to pull away, but a steady hand on the small of your back keeps you in place. A soft whimper leaves you as she kisses you harder, reminding you of everything you've been missing without her. She's confusing the hell out of you right now. 

Eventually managing to press your hand to her chest and push her away a bit, you look into her eyes. You can't let her back in if she's going to shut you out again. "What's going on, Rosé? You don't talk to me for 2 weeks and now you're kissing me like nothing happened?" 

"I'm sorry," she repeats, sounding more sure of herself. "I never meant to hurt you. I'm just trying to keep you safe." You scoff, allowing your sadness to show now. 

"This hurts more. Do you want me around or not?" 

"Of course I do," she says, tutting at you. She brings a hand up to your cheek, cupping it in an attempt to show her sincerity. You're hesitant to accept it, and that fact stings her a little bit. She's pushed you away, just like she planned, and now she's pulling you back in. The back and forth is cruel; she should've just fought her desires and stayed away for good. But you looked too broken -- too unlike yourself -- for her to just stand by any longer. She needed you to know she still cares -- that she loves you -- and that you'll always mean the world to her. 

"Come up to the room tonight. 11 o'clock. He's going to visit his parents when he gets off work. I'll explain it all, I promise." 

You take a breath, weighing your options. "Okay, I'll be there."

10:17 PM

Finishing up a couple reports for your boss, you stretch the exhaustion from your muscles and turn in your office chair, popping your back. Your blue light filter glasses rest against the bridge of your nose, and you push them up to massage the indentions they left in your skin. 

Jumping at an unsettling crack that cuts through the relatively calm night air, you stand from your chair. Your heart pounds wildly as you hear Nam-gi start up again, screaming at the top of his lungs. This time is different, though; he's throwing things, and you can hear them break against the walls and floor as he tears through the apartment. His rage went from zero to one hundred, and he's wasting no time in getting loud and angry. 

"I saw you with her downstairs, you slut! You think I'm stupid? I know you've been seeing her. I didn't care all that much because I have plenty of other girls on the side, but you crossed the line." 

Smack

You clench your jaw, striding out of your office with purpose.

"You're an idiot for thinking you can kiss her like that in public without me finding out. I own you, Roseanne. I have eyes everywhere. Don't forget your place, bitch." She loudly cries out as he shoves her into the kitchen wall, causing the knob of one of the cabinets to sharply drive into her back. 

"Y/N!" 

The broken shout for help leaves her lips as a last ditch effort, and it sets you in motion. Leaving everything in your room, you fly out the door and up the stairs, only caring about making it to her. 

"Your little whore girlfriend can't save you now, Roseanne." Another loud sob echoes out across their apartment as he punches her in the stomach, knocking the wind from her lungs. 

Quickly realizing that the door is locked, you gather all of your strength and rush it, throwing your shoulder into it with every ounce of power you possess. The pain doesn't matter now; you have to save her. 

The door shoots open with a blast of wood fragments from the frame flying in different directions, and you find him straddling her in the living room, partially behind the couch.

"Get off of her, you bastard!" You scream, tackling him to the ground. Rosie sputters for air beside you, and it sinks in that he was choking her just seconds ago. Your fists move faster than you've ever seen them move, seemingly having a mind of their own as you beat him relentlessly. He attempts to fight back, but you're seeing red; the only things that can appease you are the blood dripping from his nose and the bruises quickly forming all across his face. 

"You get off on beating her like this?" You scream, punching him in the stomach, just as he did to her. The ends of your jacket whip around behind you as you continue your assault. "You make me sick!" With one final, glorious shot to his face, you grab the collar of his shirt to pull him off the floor a few inches. 

"If you ever so much as look at her again, I won't stop myself." He gurgles helplessly on his blood, completely bruised and broken as he attempts to smart off again. You shove him to the ground and look up, shaking from the pure rage coursing through your body.

What you see shatters your heart. Rosie is cowering in the corner, and she tenses up as you crawl off of him. You look down at yourself, realizing the state you're in. Your knuckles are dark shades of crimson and purple, swirling designs of blood painting them to serve as a reminder for what happened. You shake the pain from them, facing your palms up towards the sky as you outstretch them to her, wordlessly reassuring her you won't harm her. You were mere seconds away from confirming her fears; you almost slipped into his mindset. You almost didn't stop. 

Almost.

She sees the numerous emotions pooling in your eyes, and she knows she's safe now. She knows her Y/N is back. Wordlessly, she meets you halfway across the room, collapsing into the strong embrace that your arms provide. She sobs into your shoulder, and you just pull her closer, shedding a few tears yourself. You pull her up as you stand, not wanting to be in the room with her abuser any longer. 

Various residents peek out of their rooms as you and Rosie help each other down the stairs, giving you approving nods for what you did. They heard the abuse ever since it began, but none of them did anything to stop it; thankfully you did and stepped in to make a difference. Your landlord, Ha-joon, places a hand on your shoulder as you reach the bottom of the stairs, offering a hushed, "We'll take care of the rest," before letting you go to your room. He and a couple security guards go up to Nam-gi's room to stay with him until the police arrive, and Ha-joon leaves your name out of it when filling out the report and answering their questions. Nam-gi is taken out in a wheelchair, and both you and Rosie are comforted by the fading sounds of the sirens. He's going far, far away, and Rosie is finally free. 

"Hold this," you instruct, slipping the hem of her shirt into her hands as you notice that she's beginning to come out of her state of shock. Your hands work tirelessly to clean her wounds and take away as much of her pain as you know how. You pay little mind to the pain in your jaw (the result of what few punches he managed to land), or the stinging of your knuckles, though both become more and more apparent with every move you make. 

"Stop, Y/N," she commands, her voice coming out hoarse from all the screaming she did. Her hands land on your arms, stroking them softly to ground you. You've been so caught up in protecting her that you didn't realize how bad you're hurting. She sinks to the floor and pulls you into her arms, holding you close as you let out all of the emotions that've been building up. "I love you; I'm sorry for pushing you away. I'm never leaving again." She cries against you, and you feel her lip tremble against your neck. 

"It's you and me, Rosé. You and me." Tears flow out of your eyes and land on her shirt as you bunch it up in your hands, slowly convincing yourself that she's really staying this time. You stay like that until both of you stop crying, and she reaches for your hands. 

"Can I help you now?" She asks, glancing down at your painful looking injuries. You subtly nod, and she fishes around in the first aid kit beside you until she finds what she needs. She took note of what you used on her all those weeks ago, and it's clearly coming in handy now. 

You hiss as the alcohol comes into contact with the split skin of your knuckles, but she's quick to surprise you with a kiss. The feeling of her lips against yours again soothes the pain, taking your mind off of the unrelenting sting that radiates throughout the areas she's treating. 

"I love you," you sigh, resting your forehead against hers as she finishes applying the ointment and wrapping your hands tenderly. 

"Thank you, Y/N/N. For everything." She peppers kisses all across your face in her way of making you feel her love. She knows you've got her now, and she'll do anything to show you that you can count on her, too. 

"You had me at 'excuse me'." She says, referencing back to the very first time you met. You laugh through your tears, sweeping the pads of your thumbs against the apples of her cheeks. The remaining tension seeps out of your shoulders as she kisses away your worries, filling your mind with hope for your future together with every brush of her lips against your skin.

Never Really Over

Pairing: Model!Jisoo x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 21,684

Warnings / Misc. – Angst, Smut, Fluff

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

A/N: Hi, everyone. I really hope you enjoy this fic 💜 It took me a long time to finish it and it might be a little messy in some places, but I hope it’s worth the wait. Happy reading 🌹

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It’s cold, when your journey begins. 

Chilly, early December air nips at your cheeks before swirling down to raise the ends of your trench coat as you march your way down 5th Avenue. 

Crunch, crunch, crunch

Each hit of your boots against the sidewalk is precise, final. Something about them resembles a warning sign, though you can’t quite explain it. 

Perhaps it’s the rhythmic scrape that accompanies each footfall, made by the rock that worked its way into one of the rubber grooves earlier.

Yeah, you think to yourself. That’s it. 

Bright, shimmering lights of the city around you all vie for any attention they can get, and you watch as couples and tourists alike all flock to the usual spots. Some eagerly dart into the bakeries that your town’s known for, while others step up to vibrant kiosks on the street corners to buy overpriced trinkets and knick knacks. 

A feeling of nostalgia settles deep in your bones as you pry your eyes away and pull your jacket tighter around yourself, both in search of its warmth and the comfort that it provides. 

It’s a sanctuary, more or less. From the jealousy you feel upon witnessing their happiness. 

From the cold shoulder of loneliness.

The worn-in seams welcome you without judgment, and the small stitching on the inside of your right sleeve gives you something you can’t live without. 

K.J., it reads. 

You always used to tell her how much you missed her when she was away, so she had her initials put in the familiar material just for you. She gave you the coat on your birthday so you could always have a piece of her with you, and you’d never been happier than you were that day.

But now, over 2 years later, that’s about the only thing you have left of her. 

The ache in your chest, too, of course, but you can only really blame yourself for that.

Pockets of conversation fill the evening air around you as you pass by different crowds, still set on your way towards the restaurant that you ordered some food from. The delivery fee was far too much for such a short distance, and so you decided to just trek the few blocks there and grab it. 

A quiet buzz from the neon lights above you can be heard as you turn the corner, each step bringing you even closer to your destination, and a small smile works its way onto your face. Bittersweet, though it still shines in its own way. 

La Belle, reads the sign that you know all too well. Its oval surface is rimmed with a dark shade of brown, slightly chipped from the elements, while the middle is a pristine oak color – untouched. 

A tiny bell dings as you open the door and walk inside, glancing around the lowkey space. The lights are dimmed as people converse with one another, some flirting over the rims of their martinis while others talk business. A family is seated next to the window as well, seemingly celebrating a birthday of one of the children. 

I’m 6! is displayed across a party hat in fun letters, sitting atop the head of the smallest at the table. Her sweet grin widens when she sees you, briefly locking eyes with a subtle wave, and the heavy feeling looming over you lifts, if only a little. 

“Welcome to La Belle,” a pleasant voice introduces, pulling you from your thoughts. You turn to the left, greeted by a blonde woman who’s waiting behind the hostess stand. 

“How may I help you?” She asks, voice rich with a southern drawl. 

“I’m here for a pick-up order. Y/N,” you tell her, shoving your hands into the pockets of your jeans. 

She pushes a few buttons on the tablet that sits in front of her, efficiently checking on the status of your food. “It looks like we’ll have it ready in about 5 minutes. If you’d like, you can take a seat over there and we’ll bring it right out." 

She points to a line of chairs behind you, maybe 4 or 5 red-cushioned seats, and you nod. 

"Thank you." 

"Of course, Miss." 

You make your way over and sit down, leaning back as you survey the place some more. Posters and picture frames adorn the walls, mix-matched in their contents and yet never coming across as tacky or out of place. Everything looks as if it’s meant to be exactly where it is. 

One painting in particular stands apart from all the rest, though: the centerpiece of the restaurant, displayed in the middle of the dining room’s back wall. It stretches out quite a ways, almost as more of a mural than a regular painting, and pictures two lovers. 

One is more androgynous in their appearance, clad in a tunic and cloak as their shoulder length hair falls in soft waves. The other, feminine in every way, dons a floral dress that stops just above her ankles. 

Standing beneath the partially enclosed space of a beautiful veranda, their meeting place is secretive – a quiet escape for the both of them. Their arms are outstretched towards one another as they rush to meet in the center of the room; you’ve always loved how the artist captured their movements perfectly. 

The woman’s dress ruffles as she hurries towards her lover, likely having been separated for some time, and the cloak that the other wears ripples with movement. 

Their fingertips lightly brush against each other, but just barely; they haven’t yet reached one another. Smiles adorn their faces, vibrant and contagious the longer you look; just at the sight of one another, they’re smitten once more. 

And you can see it. 

You can see the eagerness that lies behind their eyes as they peer at one another, having missed the simple pleasure beyond words. An urgency fuels their movements – draws them to one another. The longing they feel is tangible, and now you feel it, too. 

You try to reason that it’s just because of the artist’s talent, but you know you’re kidding yourself. 

It’s obvious, really, why you’re feeling this way now. For when Jisoo was sat beside you at one of those linen-topped tables in this very dining room all that time ago, admiring the work displayed, you never really understood the piece. 

She was yours then, and you never had to miss her like the lovers pictured there do.

The intention and passion was all there – all grasped by you – but you failed to notice the way their muscles strained beneath their clothes, peeking out of the areas that their garments exposed. You failed to realize then why they were so determined to be reunited. 

But now, sitting here in the lobby of a place you once loved being, you’ve never felt more alone. You’ve never understood their reasoning more.

Your back presses against the cool metal bars of the chair, and for a moment, you try to remember what it felt like to sit at your regular table here. 

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