💞🖤 Blackpink Imagines / One Shots🖤💞

Rosé ☆ Away With You

Pairing: Rosé x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: When a snowstorm of record-breaking proportion rolls into town and causes a city wide shut-in, you and Rosé take it easy and enjoy your time together.

Warnings / Misc. -- Fluff

Word Count: ~ 1,136

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

A/N: Hi everyone! I found this in my drafts a while ago and thought I'd share it with you all. Hope you enjoy it :) Stay safe and take care of yourselves!

💖 Happy Reading 🌹

◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚

The wind, frigid and biting, howls as it whips through the sprawling branches of the neighborhood trees. They sway, sometimes eerily, in their perfect alignments next to the sidewalk.

More particles of snow and sleet surge down to Earth, accompanying every haunting gust and only further worsening the conditions that the blizzard is causing.

Strangely enough, it's at times like this that you find yourself wondering if hot cocoa producers will ever run out of product.

Surely, you think to yourself, as you stand in front of the counter and stir in the contents of yet another batch. It's the fourth one you've made today, and it's not even past 2 PM yet.

Your gaze falls down to the mixture, watching intently as the rich, velvety powder swirls with the milk you added before. It lends more of its color with every whirl, and soon it's smooth mocha, warm and tempting. Steam billows from the mug, and you sigh as the chocolatey scent makes its way to your nose.

In the living room, Rosé has the television set to your local news station as she strums out the notes of a potential chorus to her latest creation. Her fingertips dance across the strings, trying out different combinations and slides as she pleases.

Beneath her, the piano bench supports her movements, making only a faint creak when she sets the guitar in her lap and focuses her attention on the piano keys instead. She's been like this for a while now: switching between the two instruments that she loves so much as she tries to finally put her finger on the elusive tune she's been seeking.

The weather has given her an excuse to stay home and reconnect with what she's been missing most: making music, and you. She can't think of anyone else she'd rather be squirreled away with.

"... multiple inches are expected to accumulate throughout the day, and by nightfall some areas could have up to three feet of snow in total."

She lifts her head at the mention of the forecast, listening closely to the weatherman.

"We strongly advise that you stay home and only go out when it's absolutely necessary. Multiple roadways are already covered, and they're expected to get even more dangerous as the day progresses. Power outages are likely as well, so get prepared, folks, and stay safe. Bundle up, grab something warm, and settle in."

Outside, snowflakes fall in heavy droves, turning the atmosphere into a whiteout. They whip past the bay windows of the living room -- which Rosé is now using as a portal to peek into the frigid world out there -- unrelenting as more and more of them make their way to the ground. They've already coated everything in sight with at least six inches, and they don't seem to show any signs of slowing down.

The Sun is quickly being clouded over; only a few glimmers of its warm rays remain now, and they kiss the land goodbye while they still can.

In fact, one delicate embrace between the two is strong enough to catch Rosé's eye; a rather small snowflake rides the swirling air current just outside the window, arching up into the air as it perfectly catches a golden shimmer of the Sun. It dances and skates for a few more seconds before ultimately fluttering against the pane and coming to rest in the corner of the sill.

Rosie's lips briefly tug up in the corners at that, and she pauses to think. Maybe she can use that for a song...

Your slipper-clad feet shuffle forward as you finally make your way out of the kitchen and towards the living room, slowly but surely. Your tongue is slightly stuck out as you concentrate on keeping all the contents of the mugs inside of them, and you simultaneously ask yourself why the hell you filled them up so high.

A quick glance at Rosie earns you the knowledge that she's scribbling away in her notebook again, and you smile warmly at the mere thought of it. For months, she's been dying to have some time to really unwind and recharge like this; writing always comes the easiest for her when she's relaxed and able to experiment without fear of judgement. She's always said that you're the only person she trusts enough to hear her rough drafts, and you cherish that. She really is something special.

"Hi, baby," you greet, feeling the tension leave your body as you bring the mugs to the coffee table and set them on a pair of matching coasters. Rosie got them on tour back in Australia, and they've been her favorite to use ever since.

"There's my girl," she beams, happiness radiating from her. A growing smile is evident in her voice as she quickly finishes in her notebook and sets her guitar in its case.

The material of her sweater looks especially soft from where you are; you can practically see the fluffiness interwoven into each of the threads.

"I was starting to miss you, you know," she plays, standing up to meet you by the sofa. Her eyes travel across your face, silently admiring you.

"I could tell," you tilt your head to the side, "...your playing turned sad."

"What can I say?" Her shoulders rise and fall in a soft shrug. "My muse wasn't around. I got lonely."

Her muse, huh? Hearing that never gets old.

You run your fingers through her hair, feeling the loose curls tickle your palm as they slide by. They're silky, and the movement releases the smell of her vanilla shampoo into the air.

She melts into your touch, visibly relaxing. Her eyes close as you move to stroke her cheek, reveling in the feeling of your warmth against her. She'd be content with staying here, just like this, forever.

"Rosie, baby, I don't understand you," you whisper, disbelief evident in your tone. You take a step closer, draping your free arm over her shoulder.

"You get even more beautiful by the day. I don't see how that's physically possible."

She smiles, her eyes still closed. She's amused.

"You've already won my heart, Y/N," she quips, peeking at you, "You don't have to make me fall in love again."

You shake your head, still smiling. "I mean it, babe. You're so beautiful."

Her eyes open now, and her hands slip beneath the hem of your shirt, splaying across your back. She pulls you closer with a short tug, giving you no time to prepare before her lips are on yours.

They whisper words of affection against your own in between sweet kisses, reminding you of how much she adores you.

As you kiss her back and touch her in all the ways she loves most, she wonders how she got so lucky.