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writingblackpink · 25 days ago

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Fire Burning (On the Dance Floor)

Chapter 3: Push Me Harder

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

genre: angst, a little smut

word count: 2.2k

pairing: lisa x reader

A/N: ...oop

You were early again. Mostly because that’s who you are as a person, but also because the nerves kept you up all night. Instead of harboring all that anxious energy and waiting around in your apartment, you left early for the studio.

The room was still silent, shadows clinging to the corners of the room. You rolled your shoulders, trying to loosen the knot of tension that had been sitting between your shoulder blades since yesterday’s kiss—since you ran out of this exact room like a coward.

You could barely make eye contact with the spot you had Lisa pinned against the floor for fear it might swallow you whole. And what’s worse is that you kind of wish it would.

You weren’t sure what to expect from either of you when she walked through that door. Guilt? Avoidance? Who knows, maybe she wouldn’t show up at all.

But Lisa didn’t avoid anything. That wasn’t her style.

The door creaked open right on time, and there she was—ponytail high, sweats slung low on her hips, water bottle in hand like her whole presence didn’t flip your entire world on its head.

She gave you a once-over and a lazy, arrogant smirk. “Morning.”

“Morning.” you muttered, eyes already on the stereo, fingers twitching. You could feel her eyes practically burning holes into you as you did so.

“Sleep well?” she asked lightly, like she didn’t already know the answer. You didn’t respond.

The music kicked on. The routine was familiar now—should’ve felt like muscle memory at this point—but you were off from the start. And Lisa noticed, because of course she did. She would do anything if it meant unraveling you piece-by-piece.

“That’s not the tempo,” she said, stopping mid-move as she tried to follow your instruction.

You tried again.

“That’s not the right placement.”

You snapped your head toward her. “Then show me.”

She grinned, that same arrogant smirk from earlier. Giving you a look that made you feel like a fish out of water. Like you had no idea what you were doing.

She showed you—too close, too deliberate, slow enough to make your skin prickle as she ran through the section with a smug ease. She wasn’t correcting you to help. She was provoking you. Again. You knew what she was doing and vowed to stop falling for whatever she was trying to accomplish.

You clenched your jaw and nodded. “Okay. From the top.”

But every pass-through, every beat, she found something to tweak. It didn’t help that your brain was already a mess from the day before when Lisa's hands ghosted over your arms, your hips, your shoulders—adjusting things that didn’t need adjusting. Everything was jumbled up and you couldn’t keep your moves straight, couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss, and now you felt like you were on fire wherever Lisa put her hands. It wasn’t fair.

“Relax here,” she murmured once, hand brushing your lower back. “Let your body follow the music.”

You were so caught up in your own thoughts you started to wonder when this lesson turned into her instructing you instead of the other way around. The more you thought about it, the more angry you became, insulted slightly by the way Lisa was speaking to you, but also frustrated from not addressing the kiss. Granted, it was you that wanted to shrug it off in the first place, but still.

Your voice came out sharp. “I know how to dance, Lisa.”

She just smiled, took a step towards you. “Do you?”

That smug little shit.

The next time she threw in an ad-lib move without warning—a hip roll that wasn’t in your choreo—you stopped the music dead.

“What the fuck is your problem?” you said, louder than you meant. You were slightly shocked at the sound of your own voice, but not backing down now.

Lisa turned toward you, wide-eyed but not surprised. She paused for a second, thinking about her next move.

“I’m just trying to make the dance feel…real.”

You crossed the space between you before you realized you were even moving, making sure not to full-on tackle Lisa this time, but still getting in her face.

“You’re trying to piss me off.”

She let out a laugh. Right there in the middle of the studio while you were about to…well, you’re not really sure what you were about to do, but the way she chuckled made you want to figure it out. You wanted to slap her. You wanted to kiss her. You were confused.

She backed up slowly, step by step, until her spine met the mirror at the front of the room. Her eyes sparkled, like she was getting exactly what she wanted.

“And it’s working.”

Your pulse was thunder in your ears. The restraint you’d been clinging to all day finally snapped. You pressed her into the mirror, your forearm against the glass beside her head, bodies flush.

“Why are you playing with me?” You asked, now so close to her that it came out as barely a whisper. Something stirred in you, a heat was rising at your sudden closeness again, and you remembered again how the kiss felt, how part of you wished you didn’t run out of the room yesterday.

You glanced down to her lips for a split second, and Lisa noticed. She always noticed you. She was always watching you, observing your ticks, trying to figure out what would make that perfect professional persona of you finally splinter.

“I’m not playing,” she whispered, even quieter than you. “I want you to do something about it.”

And finally, you did.

You kissed her like you meant to bruise. Your hands found her hips, dragging her against you as her mouth opened under yours, hungry and breathless and reckless. Her hands fisted the back of your shirt, pulling you impossibly closer. As you moved together, she let out the smallest sound into your mouth, and if you weren’t already shattered, that for sure did it.

You broke the kiss only to spin her around, pressing her front-first against the mirror with a growl that vibrated against her skin. You gripped her wrists, pinning them behind her back.

“Still want to challenge me?” you breathed low into her ear from behind, voice low, dangerous. You ducked your head down only to nip at her neck, listening to the whimpers she let out every time your lips skimmed across the heated skin there. You didn’t really care what she was going to say back to you, your mind was made up.

She gasped out a breath that turned into a laugh, even as her thighs pressed together. You caught the action, cueing you into the fact that she was more affected by this interaction than she would ever let through the smugness. Like you, she wasn’t one to back down from a challenge.

“Maybe.”

Your hands slid under her tank top, across her burning skin, and she arched for you, already panting. The mirror was cool against her skin, a stark contrast to your mouth on her neck, your grip tightening, claiming. You could feel the tension in the air from the day uncoiling slowly as you let desire take over. But you couldn’t think about that right now. Your brain was basically mush.

Every movement between you was messy, urgent, like you were both trying to erase the space that had ever existed between your bodies. Your hand moved slowly, slowly, down her stomach and past her waistband. Her voice broke into a moan when you finally dipped your hand between her thighs, finding her impossibly wet.

“Fuck,” you breathed out against her neck, for the first time letting your resolve slip a little.

But you also didn’t want to think that you turned her on like that, you just figured Lisa had some kind of power kink she was getting off on. Torturing you until you finally fucked her.

And when you finally dipped your fingers into her—not gentle in the least—the sound she made was obscene enough to make you feel like if you were to die in this moment, even with all the turmoil of the last few weeks, you would die happy.

You fucked her against the mirror until her reflection was a blur of sweat and smeared lip gloss—one hand in her sweats, and the other holding her wrists at her lower back as she arched back into you, grinding at every thrust.

“Fuck, Y/N, Fuck,” she panted out after every stroke. “Harder.”

You didn’t know what was happening, but for the first time, you couldn’t ignore her command, fucking into her harder and spilling absolute filth into her ear from behind. It was her undoing.

You held her up as she came—legs shaking and knees buckling. When it was all done—when she finally slumped against you, breathless and wrecked, loose hairs flying out of her ponytail and eyeliner smudged just slightly—she turned her head just enough to look at you through heavy-lidded eyes.

“Fuck Y/N,” she said, still catching her breath. “That took longer than I thought it would.”

You stared at her, finally pulling your hands back and stepping away from the mirror. Not much, but putting just enough space between you so that you didn’t do whatever you had just done…again. Her freshly fucked look made it hard to resist the urge. The mirror was still fogged, your breath was ragged, Lisa was still leaning against the glass as she looked at you.

And you…you felt like your soul had just left your body. You couldn’t meet her eyes in the mirror, could barely stand to look at yourself. How did you let her push you this far?

What the fuck just happened?

Lisa turned around slowly, and with her skin flushed, lips red, hair a mess, she looked even more beautiful than before, if that was even possible. But her face looked smug. She looked pleased with herself. You rolled your eyes. You wanted to be sick. It was like you had an angel and a devil on your shoulder, and you weren’t sure which to listen to.

Lisa kept talking, although you wished she would stop. You wished everything would just stop.

“So,” she said, still a little breathless, “was that your way of saying you forgive me for being annoying?”

You didn’t answer, instead you just bent down to grab your bag off the floor, swallowing the heat rising in your throat that had nothing to do with desire.

“Y/N?” Lisa asked, her voice dipping a little.

You erred on the side of professionalism, even though what just happened was far from it. You didn’t make eye contact as you spoke, focusing too hard on your bag and packing your things as quickly as you could.

“That shouldn’t have happened.”

You felt her freeze, even without seeing it. “Seriously?”

“That was a mistake,” you said, voice low. “I crossed a line.”

Sure, the kiss was now just a minor transgression compared to what transpired just moments ago. If you were worried about your job yesterday, you were actually panicking today.

Lisa scoffed softly, crossing her arms. “Pretty sure I helped you cross it.”

“That doesn’t make it okay.”

Silence pulsed between you. Heavy. Sharp.

“You think I didn’t want that?” she asked after a beat, something quieter in her tone now. The most serious you’ve ever heard her since you’ve known her.

You finally looked at her, and the look on her face nearly unraveled you. She looked…surprised. Maybe a little hurt. But she covered it fast, keeping her arms crossed and smirking again like none of it mattered.

“I mean, you didn’t exactly hold me at gunpoint, Y/N. You kissed me. I let you. You fucked me—hard. I let you. You don’t get to call it a mistake just because you’re scared of what it means now.”

“I’m not scared,” you lied instantly, your voice raising three octaves giving away the lie.

She raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because you’re packing your shit like I just blackmailed you.”

You hated how right she was. How she spent all this time figuring you out, and unraveling you in a matter of hours. You hated how good she was at reading you. She knew all of your cards, at all times, and you felt helpless in that moment.

What were you supposed to do? You were her choreographer. You were supposed to be professional. This wasn’t just about lust—this could cost you your reputation. Your job. Maybe your entire career.

You looked away again. “I need some air.”

Lisa took a step forward, reaching out like she might grab you, but thinking better of it and stopping halfway. “Y/N…”

You shook your head. “Dont, not right now.”

She hesitated, and you could feel the tension again. This time laced with something that wasn’t quite anger. Not quite disappointment either. Just…fragility. Like if either of you said the wrong thing it would all shatter. Well, it would all shatter more than it had already shattered, if that were even possible.

“Fine,” she said finally. “Go breathe. Just don’t pretend like you didn’t want this. I might push your buttons, but I’m not stupid.”

You stopped at the door, hand on the handle. Your heart thudded in your chest like a drumbeat you couldn’t keep time with.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you said without turning around.

Lisa’s voice was flat. “Can’t wait.”

You stepped into the hallway and closed the door gently behind you.

And then you leaned back against it, let your head fall back, and finally let the guilt, the panic, and the confusing throb of desire all wash over you. You had no idea what tomorrow was going to look like.

But you knew one thing: you couldn’t stay in this push-pull game with Lisa without falling apart completely.

#blackpink #gg scenarios #blackpink writing #blackpink imagines #blackpink scenarios #kpop fanfic #lisa #lisa x reader #blackpink lisa #blackpink lisa fanfic #lisa manoban #lalisa #fanfic #oop #dam finally broke

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writingblackpink · 1 month ago

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Hi! I've been writing a lot lately, and yes, I'm still planning on writing more for Fire Burning and Heartbeat, but in the meantime I decided to try something new. I just dropped a new JenLisa fic on my ao3.

If you'd like to give it a look and let me know what you think about it, I would so greatly appreciate that! It'll be a couple more chapters at least.

It's called Across the Grid.

#blackpink #love you #thank you #gg imagines #jenlisa #blackpink fanfic #lisa x jennie #f1 fanfic #f1 x blackpink

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writingblackpink · 1 month ago

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Fire Burning (On the Dance Floor)

Chapter Two: Light the Fire

read chapter 1 here

genre: still a bit angsty

word count: 1.7k

pairing: lisa x reader

A/N: Here's chapter two hehe. This one is from Lisa's perspective starting from the first solo practice so it's a bit introspective and there's not a lot of big plot movement. But I felt like it was important to include this information so here it is! I have a few more chapters planned so stay tuned. Also excuse any errors or typos...I'm finishing this at 1:30 am and don't feel like proofing it tonight lol.

–

Lisa stepped into the practice room, dropping her bag with a casual thud. You didn’t turn around.

Figures.

She kept her tone neutral. “Hey”.

No response beyond a distracted hum. She watched you fiddle with the stereo, jaw tense, movements stiff. You were pissed, probably at her again. Part of her liked that. Maybe too much.

She leaned against the wall, watching you with veiled curiosity. You were composed—too composed—but she could see the irritation just beneath your skin. It made her smirk. Not because she hated you. Not because she thought she was better. But because she liked pulling at people’s threads until something unraveled. Especially yours.

You were the first choreographer she’d met in a while who didn’t tiptoe around her status. The others either idolized her or resented her. You? Neither. You just…pushed back, and that was interesting. Dangerous, but interesting.

Lisa watched the way your fingers glided over the stereo controls, the way your posture changed the moment you realized she was close. You never looked at her for too long. Your touches lingered when you adjusted her arms or corrected her form, but your eyes never quite met hers. It drove Lisa insane.

She wasn’t sure when it had started—this quiet obsession with seeing you flustered. At first, she just wanted to challenge you. She liked provoking people. But then there was that moment yesterday, during the group rehearsal, when your hand slipped on her waist to fix her angle, and it stayed there. Barely a second too long, not even enough time to call you out on it. That second had lived rent-free in Lisa’s head all night.

So today, she wanted to see how far she could push.

She let you walk her through the routine, biting her tongue despite the million ideas in her head. You were good—precise, strong, clear. But she couldn’t help noticing how you avoided her eyes every time your hand touched her shoulder, or brushed against her thigh to adjust her stance.

That’s when she knew you felt it too.

Still, she played it cool. Waited until the routine was clean. Until the room was heavy with everything unsaid. Then she opened her mouth and dropped the line, just to see you twitch: “You know, I’m thinking this whole section could be better…”

There it was—the shift. Your eyes glazed over like you were dissociating just to get through her feedback. She half-expected you to blow up, finally snap. Instead, you stayed quiet, jaw clenched.

Lisa swallowed hard. The way tension coiled around your body when you were angry was intoxicating. She didn’t know what this was. Attraction? Power play? Maybe both. She didn’t care. She just wanted more of it.

When you lunged at her—when your hand gripped her wrists—it was pure reflex for her to go with it. The fall was clumsy but soft. Lisa’s body hit the ground beneath yours, and her breath caught in her throat. You were on her. Not metaphorically. Not in her head. Literally—heat, limbs, weight, and confusion all tangled together.

Lisa froze, lips parted, watching you process it. You looked terrified. Then intrigued. Then terrified again. The fact that you didn’t immediately move off of her told her everything she needed to know.

Lisa’s brain screamed kiss me, so her mouth took the risk: “Why don’t you just kiss me already, Y/N. I see the way you look at me during practice. I feel the way your touch lingers just a little too long. So why don’t you just–”

It was meant to provoke, but part of her didn’t expect you to give in so easily. When you kissed her, it wasn’t gentle, it was desperate. Rough and hurried and too much and not enough, all at once. And Lisa—oh god—kissed you back because of course she did. Because that’s what she’d been trying to make happen this whole time.

And then it was over way too fast. You looked like the ground had opened up under you, or that you wished it would. Lisa could see it in your eyes. She lay there, stunned, watching you panic, watching you try to pace your way out of what just happened. She wanted to say something. Something like, “don’t go, I didn’t mean it like that. Or maybe I did, but not in a bad way.” But the words stuck stubbornly in her throat.

“Y/N, wait a minute—”

Too late. You were gone. Lisa stared at the door for a long time after it closed. Her wrist tingled where you’d held her. Her mouth still tasted like yours.

She smiled to herself. This wasn’t over. Not even close.

–

That night, Lisa lay flat on her bed, earbuds in but no music playing. The screen of her phone lit up every few minutes—messages from the group chat, from stylists, from her manager, but none of them mattered.

All she could think about was you.

The way your mouth crashed into hers. The way your body had pinned her down. How stunned you looked afterward, like you hadn’t meant to want it—hadn’t meant to enjoy it.

Lisa turned onto her side, on arm flung across her face to block out the dim bedside light. Her skin was still buzzing. She couldn’t stop replaying it. The look in your eyes when you’d realized what you’d done, the way you fled.

It may have been a mistake to push you that far, but she couldn’t deny how much she’d wanted it. How much she’d been wanting it. All week. Every time you corrected her posture or gave her a short, sharp nod of approval. Every time you held back a sigh of frustration. Lisa liked seeing how close she could ge to your limits—liked the challenge of it.

She didn’t mean for it to turn her on. But it had.

Hell, she didn’t even mean for the teasing to go that far. When she’d whispered, “Maybe you should just be better at your job,” she half-expected you to slap her. Instead, you kissed her like you wanted to swallow the words whole. Lisa kissed you back like she wanted to lose the fight.

She groaned into her pillow. This was so messy. She was going to see you again tomorrow. What if you reported her? What if you didn’t even show up? Worse, what if you did and pretended like nothing happened?

The thought made her feel queasy. She tossed and turned all night, her mind not going quiet long enough to catch any rest.

–

Jennie was nursing a cup of coffee at the kitchen counter, hair tied up, scrolling through her phone when Lisa dragged herself in and collapsed into the seat across from her.

Jennie looked up and blinked. “Why do you look like you haven’t slept?”

Lisa rubbed her face and looked up. Jennie caught a glance of her sleepless, red eyes as she did.

“Because I haven’t,” she almost groaned out.

“Nightmare?” Jennie asked.

Lisa paused, tilted her head in thought. “Something like that.”

Jennie immediately sensed the weight behind Lisa’s deflection. “What happened?”

Lisa still didn’t answer right away. She pulled at the loose strings on her old t-shirt, staring at the marbling in the countertop. She figured it wouldn’t hurt to get a second opinion about this.

“Do you ever mess with someone just to get a reaction out of them?”

Jennie paused, narrowed her eyes before responding. “Like…joking around?”

Lisa hesitated, shaking her head. “No. Like…I don’t know how to explain this without sounding insane.”

“Lisa-yah, you know you can tell me anything, right?”

Thinking it over, she gave in. “Okay…” she drug out the last syllable. “Like you know it’s going to get under their skin, but you keep doing it anyways, because you want to see how they’ll break.”

Jennie set her mug down on the counter slowly. “Depends. Are you doing it because you hate them? Or because you like them?”

Lisa didn’t respond right away.

Jennie’s eyes widened slightly.

“Wait, is this about Y/N?”

Lisa flinched. Too late. She had wondered if anyone had picked up on the tension between you two, and this was validation that yes, she was being very obvious.

Lisa sighed. “She’s just…she’s so stubborn. And controlled. It’s like everything she says is locked behind this wall. But when I challenge her, she slips. And that’s when she’s the most—”

She stopped, worried she’d already said too much. The words sliding out before her brain had a chance to stop them.

Jennie prodded anyways, because of course she wasn’t going to let Lisa off easy. “The most…?”

“...Alive,” Lisa finished quietly. “She gets mad, but it’s not bad. It’s more like…passionate.”

Jennie studied her for a second, then blinked. She’d always been good at reading her members, and Lisa was not an exception. “You like her.”

Lisa groaned. “I kissed her.”

Jennie choked on her coffee. “You what?”

“She kissed me first,” Lisa corrected quickly. “But I kissed her back. It just—happened. And now I don’t know what to do because she ran out right after, and we have to rehearse again today, and I think I completely screwed everything up.”

Jennie blinked again, slower this time. Lisa could tell she was putting the pieces together in her mind.

“So let me get this straight. You bullied our choreographer into a kiss and now you’re shocked that she’s spiraling?”

Lisa scoffed, burying her face in her arms on the counter. “I didn’t bully her. I just—ugh.”

Jennie snorted, and then softened, reading Lisa’s dilemma. “Okay, okay. Look. You clearly like her. And I knew something was up with the way you two were constantly tense around each other.”

Lisa peeked up slightly. “What am I supposed to do?”

Jennie shrugged. “You have two options: act like it didn’t happen, and stay miserable. Or talk to her, like a grown adult. Maybe apologize for being a brat.

Lisa wrinkled her nose. “I’m not good at that.”

“Yeah, well,” Jennie said. “It’s either that or you both keep spiraling.”

Lisa always went to Jennie for advice because she gave it the best. This time, she was more interested in testing her own methods first.

#blackpink #gg scenarios #blackpink writing #blackpink imagines #kpop fanfic #blackpink scenarios #gg imagines #lisa manoban #blackpink lisa #blackpink lisa x female reader #lisa #lisa imagine #lisa manobal #lisa blackpink #lalisa manoban

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writingblackpink · 1 month ago

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still waiting on part 2 of fire burning on the dance floor 😭😭😭

It’s coming I promise!!

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writingblackpink · 1 month ago

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hi! you write so well!!! glad i stumbled upon your account <333

Thank you!

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writingblackpink · 1 month ago

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Working on a new chapter for this one….

Fire Burning (On the Dance Floor)

genre: angsty

word count: 1.9k

pairing: lisa x reader

request: a Lisa one shot where the reader is Blackpink's choreographer and a well-known dancer in the kpop industry. Lisa and reader have to work (close) together on a choreo for the show. there has always been some kind of unspoken tension which this times breaks out in an argument.

A/N: hmmm...I got this request a really long time ago and the actual piece has been sitting in my drafts for MONTHS. I just wasn't sure if I really liked it, but I think it's time to finally release it to the world. There will be a part 2 but pls don't come for me if it doesn't come soon!

–

“Lisa is getting on my last fucking nerve,” you breathed into the phone, exasperated.

You didn’t know who else to call and vent to, so you called your mother, someone you were sure wouldn’t try to sell your insight to the nearest celebrity gossip website. You could see the headlines already, “Blackpink’s Lisa Difficult to Work With???”, “Blackpink’s Lisa a Diva???”. You had worked in the industry long enough to know the story would be skewed into something that was very far from the truth, so you didn’t take your chances venting to just anyone and everyone. You’d learned that lesson the hard way long ago.

You were asked to choreograph for YG’s girl group, Blackpink, for their upcoming show and you jumped on the opportunity as fast as possible. You had quite the portfolio, choreographing for almost every girl group and female soloist in kpop at that moment, but you saw the opportunity to grow into a global market by choreographing for the biggest kpop girl group in the world and you couldn’t say no.

You couldn’t say no, but that didn’t mean it was easy work. You’ve been working with the girls on group dances for almost a week now, and it was going well, except for the fact Lisa won’t let you do your job. It’s always “what if we do this instead?” or, “I think that move looks too awkward for us,” or, “I think it would be better if we didn’t do that.” Which is fine! You’ve learned to work with many different groups and you always wanted to make sure their input was incorporated into the final product. Collaboration and creativity were the beacons of why you do what you do. They’re artists too after all, but it was getting excessive, the dances didn’t even look like what you originally choreographed. You were starting to wonder why YG even hired you when they had Lisa. You’ve had a lot of time to watch her this week, and you knew she was talented, she could do this herself. You admired the way she moved, smooth like the softest of waterfalls, and you envied her just slightly knowing that although you were good at what you did, you would never be THAT good.

While you acknowledged the talent, you were still annoyed. It was starting to feel like this was all a waste of time to you and you knew the other members could sense the tension between the two of you in the way Lisa only looked to them for validation when she spoke about changing the choreo and how you tried ignoring her as time went on. You could tell that they sensed it in the way they awkwardly agreed with one or the other, almost like they were trying to please both of their divorced parents.

“I’m just so tired of this. I mean, doesn’t she know who I am?” You knew you sounded too arrogant for your own good, but you also knew you were one of Korea’s best dancers and choreographers. You didn’t get that label from doing shitty work. After a few more minutes, your mom talked you off the ledge, telling you that you were being stubborn and to calm down and not get too cocky, and you knew she was right. Nothing good would come of this internalized superiority complex you had going on. Besides, you started your solo work with Lisa tomorrow, and you needed to be calm, cool, and collected in order to not blow up on her during practice.

–

You were fiddling with the stereo system when she walked in, not turning to acknowledge her presence, too focused on getting the technology to work.

“Hey,” She said casually, dropping her bag at the back without making eye contact, and you responded in the same way. Great, this was going to be a long day.

You showed her the choreography for the song first, which she looked apprehensive about but didn’t voice it. You helped her get the moves just right, helping position her body in a way that would look best on stage. Neither of you said much, but the air was hot and stiff the closer you got to her, your fingers tingling at every point they touched her skin. Your touch lingered just a little bit too long each time, wanting to savor the way this felt. There was some weird string tied between the two of you, straining, taut, threatening to snap at any moment. You didn’t think much of it, focusing on getting this practice over with. She picked the dance up quickly, almost getting the whole routine down in one go before speaking up.

“You know, I’m thinking this whole section could be better…” and you zoned out at that. It was definitely going to be a long day.

A few hours and basically a whole new dance later, you found yourself slouched against the front mirror during a break. Lisa had gone outside for a break, and you were left alone with your thoughts. Your thoughts about how your blood was boiling in this situation. What started off as gentle touches evolved into slightly more forceful directions of how Lisa should be moving, desperate to just get her to do what you wanted her to do without questioning it for one minute. She wasn’t ever aggressive or inherently mean, and you think that’s what put you more on edge. Innocent Lisa could do no wrong.

You were alone with your thoughts about how hot it was when Lisa took the lead, telling you what she wanted to do instead. Your brain was at odds with itself, clearly, and you didn’t know where it all was coming from. If her goal was to get under your skin this week, she sure did her job. You would definitely snap if you didn’t say something.

You were staring at the grain of the wood floors trying to clear your mind of this confusion when you heard the door click and knew Lisa was making her way back. You didn’t lift your head to meet her eyes when she did so, not yet ready to be pulled back out to reality.

“Are you okay?” you heard her ask from across the room, innocent, warm, different from the way she made you feel. You were confused, mostly with yourself. How could you be feeling mad, angry, sad, and….aroused? All at the same time? You could feel the string between the two of you begin to fray where it was pulled so tight, splintering.

“Lisa, why am I here?” you kept your gaze focused on the floor, and you were surprised that your own voice came out so exhausted, hurt.

“Oh, um...I–” she mumbled out as she took a few steps closer to you before you cut her off, sounding angrier than before.

“Because whatever is happening here is starting to feel like a waste of my time.” When you looked back up at her, you noticed that she was still slowly making her way to you. You stood up to meet her just as she stopped just in front of you, silent.

“I don’t mind the collaboration, but this isn’t my choreography anymore. You’re clearly more than capable of doing this yourself.” It was more stern than you expected to get out, trying to make it clear that it was pointless for you to even be here.

It seemed like your plan backfired as Lisa leaned in even closer, too close knowing you were the only people in the room, and teasingly whispered against your lips. “Maybe you should just be better at your job.”

It wasn’t what she said that had the string snapping so fast it almost gave you whiplash, it was the unapologetic smirk she punctuated her words with. It was as if she was trying to get a rise out of you; like she’s been trying to get you to react all week; like she’s been testing your limits to see how far she could take–this–before you broke.

You pushed yourself forward from the mirror reaching for Lisa’s wrists, but the force at which you did so combined with your clumsiness sent you tumbling straight forward into her. It took a few moments for you to realize the position you were in. Your hands were wrapped around her wrists where they were pinned next to her head on the floor.

You noticed the way your bodies pressed together, and your nose pressed against her shoulder, taking in her scent. Then you remembered the situation and immediately pulled back, surveying Lisa’s face, wordless, silent. You couldn’t read her face, eyes lidded and looking at you with something you couldn’t quite place, lips still in a lopsided grin and one eyebrow raised in intrigue.

"You're being unusually bold right now, Y/N."

You searched for the words to say, something to retort with, but nothing came and you found yourself dumbfounded and embarrassed by this turn of events until–

“Why don’t you just kiss me already? I see the way you look at me during practice. I feel the way your touch lingers just a little too long. So why don’t you just–” and you cut her off by pressing your lips to hers in a hurried kiss, more so to stop the flow of humiliation than anything, although you weren’t sure this was better.

You were about to pull away when you felt Lisa’s lips finally move against yours, deepening. She was actually kissing you back, but you didn’t have the brainpower to actually understand what was happening. Teeth and tongues clashing in a way that made you want more and more. The tension was finally breaking beautifully after all these days.

Your teeth pulled Lisa’s bottom lip, dragging it towards you before letting it slap back against her teeth. This caused you to pull away just enough to suck in a breath of air, oxygen making its way to your struggling brain cells.

Realization sinks in quickly. You had all but tackled Lisa to the ground (unintentionally, but still), and here you were taking advantage of the way you had her pinned between your body and the ground. Your fuzzy brain couldn’t even comprehend the fact that you were kissing Lisa and she was actually kissing you back. Your eyes widen as you notice her expression soften like she didn’t really expect you to make a move at all, and honestly, neither did you.

Your mind buzzes. YG is definitely firing you for this. This is exactly the ammunition Lisa needs to get rid of you once and for all, just like you thought she wanted. You scramble to get up, turning to face away from Lisa who propped herself up on her elbows to get a better look as you pace back and forth across the room, one hand running through your hair while your other hand gently tapping your lips where Lisa’s had just been.

Eventually, you stop pacing and stand in the middle of the room, staring at your own reflection in the mirror in front of you.

“Um, I...I think we’re done here for today, don’t you?” You choke out without making eye contact, heading to grab your things in the corner of the room.

“Y/N, wait a minute-” You hear Lisa say softly from where she’s still sitting on the floor in the middle of the room, propped up on her elbows, looking at you curiously. If you had dared to spare her a glance, you would’ve seen the confusion and genuine concern behind her eyes.

“I’ll...see you tomorrow, Lisa.” You say as you leave the room, not turning around when Lisa yelps out another “Wait–” behind you.

#blackpink #gg scenarios #blackpink writing #blackpink imagines #blackpink scenarios #blackpink lisa x female reader #blackpink lisa fanfic #gg imagines

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writingblackpink · 1 month ago

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the way I genuinely was planning on working on it back then and then left ya'll hanging for two more years....y'all I'm sorry LOL

If there’s a Heartbeat pt.3 would anyone read it in the year 2023?

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writingblackpink · 1 month ago

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Heartbeat (pt. 3)

read pt. 1 here, read pt. 2 here

genre: angst, some fluff

word count: 2.5k

pairing: rosé x reader

request: the reader is the new drummer/guitarist/bassist of bp’s band on tour and the girls find her very intriguing

A/N: uhhh....hi......don't hate me! I know this is like years late, but I've been thinking about some of the stories I've left unfinished and have been wanting to revisit them. I have some ideas for another couple chapters for this one, so I'm hoping the next update will be sooner than this one was lol. As always, let me know what you think! And bear with me as I update all my links and stuff lol it's been a while....enjoy! (also I didn't really proofread this so if you see anything that shouldn't be there, dw I'll be going back through in a few days to fully review it!)

As it turns out, there wasn’t ample time to “see where it goes” once the tour started. But not for lack of trying on your part. The beginning of the tour was busy, and while you and Rosé kept in contact, over the last few weeks even that was getting less frequent. You hoped it was just the business of the tour, but you were also beginning to think that whatever was between you, was meant to stay back in Seoul.

You sit behind your kit, twirling a stick between your fingers, not really playing—just running the pad of your thumb over the wood. A dull thump echoes as your heel taps the kick pedal in a slow, unsteady rhythm. The kind you play when your thoughts are too loud. It’s a few dates into the tour, the team just getting its footing. You’re waiting for soundcheck to begin as you check your phone for the thousandth time in the last ten minutes.

No new messages.

The last one you sent to Rosé—”You free after soundcheck?”—was read three hours ago. Still no reply. It’s only been a few weeks since Rosé kissed you goodbye with a request to just “see where it goes”, and your heart was full then, optimistic about the future between you. But now, as you watch Rosé from across the stage, you’re not sure it’s going anywhere at all.

She looks stunning, like she always does—hair curled just enough, eyeliner sharp, half ready for tonight’s performance. Her laugh rings out like a hook in a song, addicting. But she hasn’t looked in your direction all day. You try not to take a it personally, knowing there’s more at stake with all these prying eyes.

You tap out a rhythm on the snare with your fingertips, soft and distracted. You then realize it’s the same pattern Rosé had played during that first lesson. You stop yourself mid-beat.

That same rhythm, but played with Rosé’s hands, her laugh warm in your ear. That night in the practice room. The almost-kiss. The kiss outside your door. Rosé’s hand lingering on yours over a mug of coffee.

You close your eyes, trying to remember exactly how it felt.

Jae, one of the sound techs walks over, dragging a small case behind him.

“Hey,” he grins. “I tightened your snare like you asked. Want me to help test the mic levels again?”

You nod, welcoming the distraction. You stand and step around the kit, brushing past him as he crouches to make an adjustment. He says something funny—about how these venues must have been built for giants based on how far your floor tom slipped last night—and you laugh, maybe louder than necessary.

You miss the way Rosé looks toward the sound, smiling. Her smile falters when she realizes who evoked such a pretty sound from you. Her eyes narrow and she turns back towards Lisa, brushing a nonexistent strand of hair behind her ear in an effort to look nonchalant. You may have missed the look on her face, but you still felt the shift. Taking a seat back at your set, you tap your sticks together absently. You know something’s off, and has been for some time now. And for the first time since the last time you and Rosé kissed, you wonder if maybe this thing—whatever it is—was always supposed to stay unspoken.

You take another glance down at your phone. Still no reply.

It wasn’t like Rosé to leave you on read. Except…lately, it kind of was.

You’d been in the same room, surrounded by crew and chatter just earlier that day, Rosé sitting with Lisa and the dancers, tucked into her oversized hoodie, laughing easily—but never looking at you.

You tried to play it cool. Tried to focus. You tuned your kit, adjusted mics, joked around with Jae as he helped her tweak the overheads. Jae and the rest of the band were some of the only constants right now—always upbeat, always kind.

Rosé hadn’t so much as waved, but she noticed you.

She caught you out of the corner of your eye, gaze locked on you and Jae as you laughed over some dumb joke about mic tape.

Rosé’s eyes darkened. Just slightly. Barely a blink. But you caught it.

And then, nothing. No smile. No text. No sign.

–

You were curled up in your hotel bed, light from the TV flickering on the wall while some random late-night documentary about sea squids droned on. You were on the brink of sleep when your phone buzzed next to your pillow.

1:23 am - Rosé: Are you awake?

You: Yeah

There was a pause. A typing bubble, then no bubble, then typing again.

Rosé: Sorry I’ve been weird lately.

You: Yeah, you kind of have been…

Rosé: I know. I just…the beginning of the tour has been hectic.

Another pause. She was still typing so you waited her next message.

Rosé: I also don’t like that guy.

You: Who? Jae?

Rosé: Yeah. I don’t know. The way he’s always around you. The way you laugh with him.

You blinked in the glow of the TV, almost letting out a laugh.

You: He’s just a friend. He’s my tech. It’s literally his job to be around me.

Another pause. Typing bubbles appearing and disappearing several times before her next message.

Rosé: I just hate that it makes me feel like this. It’s not fair to you. But I feel like…I already don’t get to have you in public. And now I don’t even really get you in private either.

You: You do have me. You just haven’t wanted me lately.

You bit your lip after sending the last message, nervous to see how she would take the insinuation that she’s left you out to dry. Ghosting you while still being in your presence. You’re just so confused.

Rosé: That’s not true. I’ve just been worried. Of people seeing. Of messing this up. Of feeling too much.

You: And how do you feel now?

A longer pause this time. You waited so long for a response you thought she may have fallen asleep before she could hit send.

Rosé: Jealous.

You gaped at your phone. How could someone who’s been slowly distancing herself from you for weeks be jealous? What she was saying didn’t make any sense to you.

Rosé: And sad. And a little stupid.

You: I feel sad too. Mostly confused. You told me we’d see where this goes but I don’t know where that is anymore.

You hoped that your honesty wouldn’t scare her away, but you could tell she was being genuine so it was the least you could do to be vulnerable too. And here, in different rooms on opposite sides of the hallway in the blue light of your cell phone, you finally felt like you were getting answers.

Rosé: Me either. Can we talk soon? In person?

You stared at the blinking cursor in the message box. You felt a mix of relief that Rosé was finally ready to talk, but as you glanced at the clock on the nightstand, you knew this wasn’t a conversation to be had that night.

You: Maybe, but not tonight.

Rosé: Okay. Goodnight.

You: Night.

You set the phone down and sank back into the pillows in the center of the bed, staring up at the hotel ceiling. You were beginning to think this was turning out to be less something secret and sacred, and more complicated and fragile. And maybe even…temporary.

But your heart still fluttered a little when you saw Rosé’s name finally light up your screen.

–

It had been twelve days.

Not that you were counting.

Twelve days since Rosé confessed to feeling jealous, and scared. Twelve days of seeing Rosé across dressing rooms and hallways. Twelve days of barely-there nods, passing glances, a soft “hey” exchanged like strangers being polite. Twelve days of pretending everything was fine in front of everything else, even though it absolutely wasn’t.

You missed her, even though she was still within reach. You missed her more than you were willing to admit. You thought about reaching out, but something about Rosé’s silence after that night had made you lock up. If Rosé wanted to talk, really talk, she’d find you. Except she hadn’t. Until tonight.

You were heading down a hallway behind the stage after a show in Bangkok, towel slung over your shoulders, in-ears still hanging loosely around your neck. The adrenaline from the show was still fading when you turned a corner and nearly collided with Rosé.

You froze. So did she. You stood just a foot apart, stunned into the kind of stillness that had its own kind of sound. You stepped aside instinctively, but she was already moving—just slightly, like she was going to pass you without a word, like you were nothing more than coworkers. Something in you snapped.

You reached out and grabbed Rosé’s wrist.

“Wait.”

Rosé stilled, eyes flicking down to where your skin touched. Your grip wasn’t tight, just enough to stop her from slipping away again. The hallway was dim and quiet, buzzing only faintly with the muffled chaos of post-show breakdown. You glanced around, then pulled Rosé gently behind a stack of road cases and cables out of sight. You were close now, almost too close, the tension sitting between you thick like smoke.

“I can’t let you walk past me again,” you said, voice low. “Not tonight.”

Rosé leaned back slightly against the wall, arms crossed like armor. But her eyes were soft, blinking fast like she didn’t trust herself to look too long.

“I didn’t know what to say,” she said.

“You could’ve said anything.”

Rosé’s mouth tightened, then relaxed. “I thought if I stayed quiet, if I didn’t let myself want it anymore, maybe it’d go away.”

Curious, you asked, “Did it?”

“No,” she whispered.

The silence stretched as you searched her face, her own eyes darting around yours.

“I miss you,” Rosé said finally, like she was admitting something shameful. And for her, she did feel some responsibility for putting the distance between you in the first place.

You felt your throat tighten. “Yeah. Me too.”

You let the words hang there. Then stepped in just a little closer.

“I didn’t want to be just a secret,” you said. “But I’d rather be that than nothing.”

Rosé looked up, surprised.

“I don’t want you to be a secret,” she said. “But I don’t know how to do this and not be scared. I thought if I put distance between us, eventually this would fade, but I feel it even stronger now.”

“I’m scared too, but aren’t we worth a shot?” You said. And you both smiled, sad and honest. For a moment, the noise of the tour, the world, all of it—faded. You reached out and gently touched Rosé’s hand where she dropped it at her side. She didn’t pull away. In this tiny, shadowed, corner of the world, you let yourself really feel it again. And this time, neither of you ran.

–

The tour moved like a train with no brakes—city after city, show after show. The chaos of performing, traveling, and rehearsing could have swallowed you whole, but you and Rosé found each other in the quiet moments.

A shared look at the dressing room emptied.

Fingers brushing as you passed each other in hallways.

Rosé handing you a water bottle mid-soundcheck with a wink only you could see.

Red-eye flights with Rosé curled next to you, sharing one AirPod between you while a soft playlist crackled through. Your knees touching. Hands barely resting together under a shared blanket. It wasn't much, but for now, it was enought.

You kept things quiet, intentionally so. When the others were around, Rosé would keep a bit more distance—enough that no one would question anything. But there was a shift, a magnetic pull.

People would only notice if they looked closely. And no one was really looking. Not yet.

–

Tokyo. One of the last stops in Asia before heading to Europe.

The group had decided to split for the night after a long post-show dinner. Jennie, Lisa, and Jisoo went out for drinks. Rosé had a “headache” and you said you were going back to edit some stems. Neither was true, but you were practically vibrating at the thought of alone time with Rosé again after all this time.

You found yourself in Rosé’s hotel room for the first time on this tour. You’d been watching something dumb on TV, but barely five minutes in, you hadn’t looked at the screen once. You were on the couch in her expansive suite, legs tangled, whispering jokes, soft laughter exchanged like secrets.

Rosé leaned forward slowly, brushing her knuckles along your jaw before guiding you into a kiss that melted like honey. Slow, familiar. You sighed into it, nearly a month of back and forth culminating in this moment, finally. Your hand curled gently around the back of her neck as Rosé deepened the kiss, just enough to make you forget what city you were even in.

Then—click.

The door swung open.

“Oh my god.”

You sprang apart like magnets being yanked the wrong direction. Lisa stood frozen in the doorway, eyes wide—not scandalized, but definitely amused.

“I KNEW something was up!” she said, eye flitting between you with a grin that was way too smug.

Rosé buried her face in her hands. “Lisa…”

“Okay, okay!” Lisa held her hands up and backed out slowly, a teasing smirk on her face. “I didn’t see anything. Just a…very close couch huddle. Definitely normal. Carry on, lovers.”

She was gone almost as fast as she entered, pulling the door shut with her.

The room was silent for a beat before you and Rosé shared a laugh that was part nerves, part embarrassment, part pure disbelief.

“She’s never gonna let us live that down,” you said through a laugh.

The laughter died down as Rosé settled back into your side, sighing. “Probably not.”

She rested her head on your shoulder, her fingers tracing slow, absentminded circles on your wrist. Rosé’s phone lit up on the coffee table, and you noticed her tense before she even looked at the screen. It was a message from her manager.

“Where were you tonight after dinner?”

She didn’t answer it, she didn’t even move to pick up her phone. She just blinked at the screen until it dimmed again. You didn’t ask about it, but her grip on you tightened slightly. After a long silence, she spoke up.

“I can’t get caught,” Rosé whispered, barely audible. “If someone saw us—if the company thinks I’m distracted…it won’t just be me.”

You turned to her. “You mean–?”

Rosé nodded slowly, her eyes still fixed on the TV. “They’d shut it down. All of it. Not just us.”

There it was, the thing they hadn’t said. If this ever got out—not only the fact she was seeing someone, but also that it was another woman—it could mean the end of her career, or worse, the end of the group, years of hard work undone in a heartbeat.

They didn’t talk about it anymore that night, but when you left you checked the hallway three times, slipping out with your hood up. Like a secret.

And Rosé, alone in the dime hotel room, finally typed a reply: “Wasn’t feeling well. Went straight to bed.”

She stared at the blinking cursor after sending the message, powered off her phone, and got into bed.

#blackpink #gg scenarios #blackpink writing #blackpink imagines #blackpink scenarios #rosé blackpink #blackpink rosé #park chaeyoung #rosé #rosé x female reader #gg imagines #kpop fanfic #forbidden romance #hheehehehe I'm so sorry LOL

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