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sokkascroptop · 3 years

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traitor. (sokka x f!reader) pt 22

part 1 | part 21 | part 23

a/n: just for clarification... one of these days Y/N will be happy. I promise. For being set in prison, this is a pretty upbeat chapter. She’s surrounded by her simps so that helps. Also, let it be clear, no Sokka/Suki kiss in her cell for obvious reasons. I like to think of her as being really happy for Sokka and Y/N, plus she’s like soooo wlw.

Y/N had heard all about The Boiling Rock.

It was the most notorious prison in the Fire Nation which meant kids at school had endless stories and rumors about the place. That also meant that any knowledge that Y/N could remember about the place was probably not true.

She spent the whole balloon ride there chewing on the skin around her nails and wondering what was going to happen once she got there.

Y/N tried not to think about the harsh words her father had said to her. It had been the same rhetoric he had spouted over the years, before and after bad training sessions, or any time she got into any type of trouble. It didn’t matter that it was the same thing she’d hear time and time again–about how she lacked the strength and determination that all of her ancestors had carried high on their shoulders–it all still hurt. Each and every time she heard it, she started to believe it a little more. The games her father liked to play on her mind were always bound to catch up to her. Even though she had just learned that her father would rather see her dead than alive on the other side of the war, she was still feeling guilty for disappointing him again.

Y/N took a deep breath through her nose filling her lungs with the hot air from inside the airship. She held for a pause and let it out slowly; she kept doing that, staving off the tears that were bound to come. It would be better for her if she didn’t cry in front of her fellow prisoners. She would only need to keep her cool for a little bit longer, tonight, when she was alone in the cell she would get to call home, she could muffle her cries into the lumpy pillow that was bound to be under her head. And then she could be happily numb to it all. Her father, the war, her friends. Sokka. Feelings couldn’t be felt at Boiling Rock. The only way she was going to survive was if she felt nothing at all.

Y/N spent the day as they travelled looking around the airship at the rest of the prisoners on board. They were all in separate cells and she was only able to visualize a few of them. Large men with lots of tattoos seemed to be the main character, but one thing was certain. Hakoda wasn’t one of them. Y/N didn’t want to think about why he was left behind.

The farther they traveled the warmer it got too. The metal that surrounded them was unforgiving and trapped the humidity making it hard to breathe. Y/N wanted to drop to her knees and thank the gods when she finally felt the airship touch the ground. Except that outside it was just as hot as inside and smelled like sulfur from the volcano the prison was situated on.

Each and every prisoner was handcuffed before they stepped off the airship. The guard that had waved fire in her face and threatened to burn Y/N’s fingers off latched hers. He was young and smirked at her as he tightened the cuffs to the point that her hands went numb. Y/N leaned forward and spit on his boots before she stepped away.

She was shuffled onto one of the gondolas with the rest of the prisoners in a single file line. Y/N did her best to school her expression. Terror spread through her body like a wildfire, so strong that her knees shook, but this was the last place she needed to look scared. She tightened her jaw and stared blankly ahead of her. Staying blissfully numb wasn’t working quite yet. She began to think about her friends; where they were and how they were doing. Was Aang still worried about firebending? Or had his worries shifted to the comet by now? Was Katara trying to mediate the situation? Was Sokka mad at Y/N? She groaned inwardly. Oh man, he would be mad when he found out what she got herself into.

Y/N picked at the collar of the shirt they’d made her change into. It was thick, almost burlap material. They even smelled like it too. It itched her neck and her back where it touched her skin just a little too much. The pants were no better on her waist. After making her change in front of them, the female guards had let her into the yard that Y/N had seen from the gondola. Y/N kicked her shoe against the packed dirt and looked at her surroundings. High walls surrounded her, topped with razor-sharp wire. It was a meaningless deterrent, the whole prison was surrounded by a boiling lake, no one could get out of here.

Y/N leaned against the wall as she surveyed the prisoners around her.

Then, Y/N did a double take.

It was impossible. It couldn’t be. Suki?

Y/N felt her feet fly under her as she ran to the girl; she paid no mind to the people she bumped into or pushed out of the way, Y/N just had to know if it was true.

“Suki? Is that you?”

She looked so different from the last time Y/N had seen her. Her face was free of the pale Kyoshi makeup and much tanner than Y/N had remembered. How long had it been since they’d met? Y/N asked herself. Weeks? Months even?

She was sitting on a bench in the middle of the yard, leaning back on her hands, but quickly stood up when Y/N approached her. Y/N was sure the girls hair was longer too. Half of it was pulled up and tied at the back of her head. It was choppy at the ends, much like Y/N’s was when Katara had first cut it, like she had been cutting it herself since being here. Suki’s brown eyes were expressionless when she looked back at Y/N. If she recognized Y/N, she didn’t show it. Either Suki had mastered the look of emptiness that was needed to survive, or she had fallen into a pit of despair. It had been months, Y/N concluded.

Suddenly, as if she had been struck by lightning, she cocked her head to the side. “Y/N?”

Y/N grinned and walked directly up to Suki. She didn’t know what she expected from the girl. A bow? A handshake? Maybe even a hug for having slipped her that fan before leaving? I mean, Y/N didn’t exactly know about Azula’s plan in the first place and she surely didn’t realize that even after trying to help them escape Azula would have the Kyoshi warriors captured and imprisoned. Suki would understand.

---

Suki did not understand.

She wound her arm back and punched Y/N so hard in the mouth that she saw stars.

Y/N crouched on the ground holding a hand against her throbbing bottom lip. Her eyes watered from the pain and when she pulled her hand away it was spotted with blood. More blood from her cut lip dripped onto the ground and balled up in the dirt. Y/N spit what was in her mouth out to the side. She ran her tongue against the cut her tooth made, lapping up any blood before it could run down her chin. She could hear the ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ of the other prisoners around them; they had formed a tight circle around her and Suki, itching to watch the cat fight they knew was bound to ensue and protecting them from the prying eyes of any guards near.

Y/N stood up and faced Suki. “That hurt.” Was all Y/N could think of to say.

Surprisingly, she wasn’t even mad. Somehow it made her feel good. Suki was still there. She wasn’t as empty as Y/N thought her to be from first glance. Something about the presence of Y/N reawakened something in Suki. Y/N could see fire in her eyes as she held up her hands, preparing for a defense she wasn’t going to need.

“Good,” Suki smiled.

“Now what?” Y/N asked. She brushed her thumb past the cut and licked the blood off it.

“Now, we’re even.”

--- a few weeks later

Sokka peeked around the corner of the wall. “I still don’t see her.”

“Well, she’s gotta be around here somewhere.”

“What if she’s not here, Zuko. What if you heard wrong from Azula?” Sokka’s hands were sweaty and it wasn’t because of the heat.

“She’s here.” Zuko’s words didn’t necessarily comfort Sokka’s pounding heart, but it was nice to be able to rely on someone else’s confidence for once.

Sokka looked from side to side, scanning each and every prisoner. It shouldn’t have been so hard, most of them were huge guys with beefy arms, he was looking for the only teenage girl within miles. He was just about to suggest to Zuko that they find somewhere else to continue their search–maybe somewhere higher where they could look down–when he spotted her.

“There!” Sokka pointed at her for Zuko. Her arms were resting on her thighs and she was staring at the ground between her feet. “I’ll go pull her aside and tell her what’s going on.” Sokka stood up from their hiding place only to be immediately pulled back down by Zuko.

“Hey, what are you–” he started.

“Sokka, look. That girl, next to Suki. Is that–?” Zuko trailed off with wide eyes, his hand never leaving Sokka’s biceps as he stared.

Sokka looked back to Suki and–

Sokka couldn’t stop staring either. That was Y/N. His Y/N. Here. At Boiling Rock. Standing right there in front of him.

The last image he had of her was burned into his mind. Her standing on the cliffside with his father and half his tribe behind her as she watched him go. He’d hung over the back of Appa’s saddle until they were miles away and it had been hours since he’d seen her.

And now she was here with her hand on her hip, looking–surveying the yard around her. Suki was doing the same from her seat next to her. As Y/N turned more his way he could see a bruise high on her cheek and split lip even from how far away he was. She was practically looking directly at him but there was no recognition on her face. Of course there wouldn’t be. He was wearing a guards helmet. He was dressed like one more of her enemies.

Suddenly her face broke into a smile as she began to laugh at something Suki had said. Sokka could feel his heart skip three beats. He wanted to run to her, but he knew he couldn’t. Everything in their original plan had changed now. If she was here, was his father here too?

---

Y/N lay curled up her side on her cot. Even though it was the middle of the day she was trying to fit a nap in. Hell, there wasn’t anything else to do. The darkness of her cell helped but trying to fall asleep was always half the battle, day or night. She was exhausted, never getting more than a few hours a night, but even then sleep evaded her. The mattress was too lumpy and the clothes were too itchy and the cell was too hot but the worst part was that she was alone. She hadn’t slept alone in months, and it showed now. She used to think that Appa’s snoring was annoying and that Katara talking in her sleep was distracting but now, Y/N missed it. She missed the crackle of the fire and the soft breathing of all her friends around her. She missed the wind in the trees, rustling the leaves and the gurgle of creeks nearby. Most of all, she missed the comfort of her friends being near. The secure feeling of being able to sit up after waking from a nightmare and count the sleeping bodies around you and know that you were safe because they would never let anything happen to you.

Thinking about being near them again allowed her to drift off into a doze. She was in that state of half sleep when she heard the click of metal as her door was opened. Y/N’s eyes snapped open, but she didn’t move. Whoever was in her cell with her was trying to be quiet. Y/N waited until they got close enough to surprise them.

She sat up quickly and turned on them. “What are you doing in here?”

The guard jumped back like they didn’t expect her to wake up. “I–”

“What are you doing?” Y/N stood up and took a step towards them.

The guard held up their hands defensively. “Wait, Y/N it’s me!”

Y/N gasped when she heard his voice. It was unmistakable, she didn’t need to watch as he lifted his helmet off because she was already barreling forward to pull him into a hug.

“Zuko, what are you doing here?” Y/N asked, her nose pressed into his chest. She hadn’t hugged her friend in a long, long time. After everything they had been through, she didn’t know if she ever would again. Despite everything that had gone down between the two of them in the last few months, it was a relief to see a friendly face. Even if the last time she saw him he was throwing fire at her. “How did you know I was here?”

“We didn’t–”

Y/N pulled away as her eyes widened. “We? Is Azula here?” Y/N could feel her heart beat a little faster. Of course Azula would be there too. Probably the second they heard of her capture they came to rescue her. Even after all of it, Y/N still meant that much to them, right? Azula and Y/N might not have parted on the best of terms but even she was smart enough to know that Boiling Rock wasn’t where Y/N belonged. Zuko standing in her cell was proof enough of that.

It might have been child-like wishful thinking, but maybe Azula had rethought Y/N offer to come with her. Maybe both her and Zuko had changed their minds...

Zuko shook his head slowly, then began to chuckle. “I guess it’s been a long time since we talked.”

Azula wasn’t there to save her. Y/N hated that she deflated with disappointment. Y/N was silent which Zuko took as his cue to explain.

“I left the Fire Nation—“

Y/N’s jaw dropped.

“—the day of the Black Sun. And I–well, I joined up with your friends. I’m the Avatar’s new firebending teacher.” Zuko scratched the back of his neck and laughed uncomfortably.

Y/N shook her head to clear it. Her thoughts were whirling inside her brain. No Azula but–“Wait, so does that mean Sokka is here? Toph? Where are they?” Y/N grabbed hastily at Zuko’s sleeves.

“Sokka is getting Suki.”

“Suki?” For a brief moment, Y/N forgot that her friend was even in the cell down the hall.

“Well, yeah we decided that it wouldn’t be the best I went in there.”

“Wait… so if you didn’t even know I was here until you got here, were you coming to get her?” Y/N couldn’t help that jealousy crawled up her throat and forced its way into her words at the thought that somewhere very near her, Sokka was meeting up with Suki and not her.

“Why do I feel like I said the wrong thing?”

“No!” Y/N said defensively. “No, just..” Now it was Y/N’s turn to laugh awkwardly. “What’s the plan?”

“I’ll let Sokka tell you that, he’s the plan guy. Come on, we’ll meet at Suki’s cell.” It was almost like Zuko was trying to reassure her. Sokka was here. Not just here at Boiling Rock–but near her–just walls away. Y/N wanted to feel embarrassed at the way her heart sped up, embarrassed at how much she had missed Sokka and how much she had realized that she relied on him for so much since they had met. Y/N wasn’t supposed to rely on anyone.

Zuko opened Y/N’s cell door, motioning for her to go out ahead of him. Out of an abundance of precaution, Y/N glanced to the left and then to the right first, looking for any sign of a real guard outside making rounds. When there was none, she stepped out, and felt a weight lift off her chest. Y/N wondered if this was all really happening or if it was some cruel dream she would wake up from.

However, that was a mistake on her part–to hope for something that hadn’t happened in the first place. She should have waited until she was miles away to let out that breath she had been holding since she arrived.

Stepping from around the corner was the female guard that was always assigned to this cell block. Y/N forced her feet to keep moving forward and hastened to remind herself that to an outsider, neither her or Zuko had done anything wrong; yet. Y/N nudged him in the ribs and hoped that he would take the hint. Luckily, Zuko was on the same page and grabbed her bicep roughly, like he was escorting an unruly prisoner.

Y/N turned her head slightly to the side, letting her hair fall across her face, hiding her identity. This guard in particular was not the biggest fan of hers, always saying Y/N was too mouthy and threatening to send her to the cooler every chance she got. Even if Y/N had been led out of her cell for a legitimate reason, she still probably would have stopped them.

The guard was easily two steps away and had barely made a glance in Y/N’s and Zuko’s direction. At first Y/N thought they were home free. That is until the female guard slid in front of Zuko, blocking their path. “Where are you taking her?”

Y/N’s head snapped up and she felt instant regret as the guard realized who Zuko was escorting. Beside her, Y/N could feel Zuko tense up, his hand tightening around her arm unconsciously. “I was uh, taking this prisoner to the yard,” Zuko stuttered out.

Y/N wanted to facepalm.

The guard frowned deeply. “This cell block has already been to the yard this morning. You should know that.”

Zuko’s hand was now a vice on Y/N’s arm, begging her to help him. He chuckled awkwardly. “Oh. Yeah, I’m–um–new?”

“I was unaware that we had anyone new working on this block…” The guard’s eyes widened underneath her mask and Y/N knew it was now or never.

“Oh, for god’s sake,” Y/N growled. She ripped her arm out of Zuko’s grip and pushed the other woman down to the ground, holding her forearm to her neck. “Run!” She shouted to Zuko.

Zuko took off immediately, his boots slapping against the metal floors. Y/N tried to watch him go while holding the guard down but she caught a knee to the stomach that made her wheeze and the woman tore into Y/N’s arm with her nails. “What are you doing?!” She screeched at Y/N.

The two of them rolled around on the ground, fighting for an advantage. Y/N grasped the guard’s long ponytail hauling her back and gripped her in a headlock.

Zuko was nearly to the stairs, as soon as she could no longer see him, Y/N would let go and accept whatever punishment that would be thrown at her for attacking a guard, even if it meant going to the cooler. She could take it.

Just at that moment another guard came racing up the steps, apparently having heard the ruckus that Y/N had started. Except it wasn’t just another guard. It was Sokka. His helmet was hanging loosely from his hand, and it nearly slipped out of his grip when he saw the scene before him.

Y/N and Sokka locked eyes for a beat and all of the air rushed out of her lungs as she gasped.

It took just that moment of distraction for the female guard to gain the upperhand. She leaned forward and using Y/N’s arm, pulled her over her shoulder. Y/N landed hard on her back with a groan. She let the guard push her onto her stomach and kneel on her back as she yanked Y/N’s arms behind her.

“Get him! He’s an imposter!” the guard shouted to Sokka.

Y/N couldn’t see–her face was pressed into the cool metal floor, but she could hear the two boys scuffle before Sokka’s voice rang out, “Don’t worry, he won’t get away with this.”

The woman leaned close to Y/N’s ear. Her breath was hot and it made Y/N shudder. “Yeah, and neither will you.”

Y/N wasn’t focused on that right now. Not the interrogation or the punishment for whatever they thought her and Zuko were planning on doing. No, the only thing she focused on was Sokka’s words echoing over and over in her head. Don’t worry, don’t worry.

She would never worry as long as Sokka was around to save her.

---

Y/N leaned her back against the wall of the cell they’d thrown her in. It was in a completely different part of the prison, one she had never seen before. So that couldn’t be good.

The door slid open with a bang and Y/N couldn’t help but flinch at the sound. The warden smiled cruelly at her. “How did Prince Zuko know you were here?” He asked, right to the point.

Y/N scoffed and crossed her arms. “Who?”

The warden chuckled darkly. “I know of your connection to the Fire Palace. You might pass anonymously through the crowds of criminals here, but your father sent a warning letter when you arrived, laying out everything you’ve done and everything I should be worried about when it comes to his precious little rebel.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows but otherwise didn’t make a sound. The warden paced in front of her like her father had so many weeks before, taunting her with hurtful words. Y/N let her eyes slide out of focus as they tracked his movements across the room.

“How did you get a message out of Boiling Rock to him?” He paused, standing in front of the open door. Y/N cocked her head and looked to the small opening between his body in the door. She couldn’t help the thoughts that intruded her mind about how small in stature the warden was and how fast she could run. There was a slight opening that she could take to run, given the chance, but there were guards posted outside and she’d be caught quickly and easily.

Y/N shrugged noncommittally. It was no use trying to argue against him, he wouldn’t believe anything she had to say. And she and Zuko had literally been caught doing exactly what they had been accused of. “Maybe I’m just that good.”

Besides anything she did say could risk Sokka’s disguise.

“Normally for a stunt like you just pulled, I’d lock you in the cooler for a week. I’d like to see how a non-bender would fare in there for that long.” A smile stretched over his wide lips. “But it might be more entertaining to just leave you to the masses. Everyone here might be a criminal, Y/N, but they are still mostly loyal to their country. And they don’t like people like you or Prince Zuko. It would be a shame for them to find out you were traitors to the Fire Nation.”

“Are you threatening to tell them?” Y/N couldn’t help but ask.

The warden mimed the same disinterested shrug she gave him earlier. “I won’t say anything. They’d have my job for that. But I can’t guarantee someone else won’t have a slip of the tongue in the future.”

The warden turned around and walked out, leaving Y/N with a feeling of urgency. She still didn’t know what Sokka’s plan was, but it was now or never for her and Zuko. Otherwise she had a feeling they could be in real danger.

---

It was hours before the guards let her out of that cell. She was led back to her cell block and told to do her chores like she had never been taken to be interrogated by the warden in the first place. Y/N spotted Zuko in Y/N’s usual spot next to Suki, mopping the floor by the staircase.

Y/N took the steps two at a time to get down to the both of them. She slid into the shadows, hiding from any guards who might see her not doing her job.

“Y/N!” Suki’s eyebrows knitted with worry. “I heard what happened. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, the warden was just trying to scare me. Zuko, are you okay?”

He paused his mopping. “What did he say to you?”

Y/N shook her head. “Just some things about how we were working together. He was wondering how I got you to help me escape. He said that it would–” Y/N deepened her voice to mimic the warden, “’be a shame if the other prisoners found out who we were.’ ”

Zuko frowned. “He said that to me too.”

“That’s not good. We have to get out of here as soon as possible,” Suki said.

“And we will.”

Y/N looked up to see Sokka hanging over the stair railing looking down at the three of them.

“Sokka,” Y/N breathed in relief. As he came down the stairs to meet them, the only thing Y/N wanted to do was run and jump into his arms, but she knew she couldn’t. She couldn’t risk anyone seeing them. After what had happened with her and Zuko earlier, the guards were sure to keep a close eye on her. She settled for reaching a hand out and squeezing his tightly, trying to convey every emotion she was feeling into that single touch.

Suki sent Y/N a pitying look. She knew how much Y/N had missed being back with her friends. Prison wasn’t good for a lot of things, but it was good for catching up between two people. And slowly through that, her and Suki had become friends, even if it was a bit unwilling at first. Suki and her had spent the first two days of Y/N arriving just recounting what had happened between the two of them. Y/N learned of the early days of Aang, Katara and Sokka’s travels, the first time they met Suki, even Suki teaching Sokka how to fight like a Kyoshi warrior.

---

“He was so hopeless,” Suki had giggled. “It was like teaching a platypus-bear how to dance.” And Y/N had laughed. “He was the same when I first taught him how to sword fight!”

“I thought he had a little bit of a crush on me, you see,” Suki smiled slyly, “but when we met the second time in Ba Sing Se, I was sure he didn’t. He was different. More protective, but not in a love-type way. Like he was afraid for me, or what might happen to me.”

“I don’t know why he’d ever be afraid of that. You’re tough as nails, Suki.” At that point, Suki had flipped her hair over her shoulder and grinned. “I know.” but then her voice lowered. “I don’t know, but I think something happened to him when he was in the North Pole. He didn’t elaborate, but he told me that he lost someone he was close to, and he just couldn’t have it happen again. That’s why he pushed me away. Well,” Suki rolled her eyes, “he kept me close just to keep me at arms length. And then I left them there, at the wall, so me and my girls could go back and help more refugees.”

“And then me.” Y/N chewed on her lip.

Suki watched her. “And then you.”

---

Suki was giving her that same look now. The one where her brown eyes could dig wells into Y/N’s soul. It was like she knew Y/N better than she knew herself. Although at one time there might have been jealousy hidden in those dark eyes, there was none now, just sadness, and understanding. She had spent countless hours with Y/N sharing even the most mundane details about their friends. It passed the time and kept hope alive that someday they might be rescued, even if it took until the end of the war for liberation.

The foursome crouched down, hiding from any prying eyes. “I think I may have found a way out of here.” Sokka grinned mischievously.

---

Y/N stood on the banks of the boiling lake with Suki, waiting for Sokka to come back with Zuko and the cooler. The wind that blew in off the lake was hot and stifling but at least it was dark now. The night air gave some relief from the humidity. Y/N couldn’t wait to be off the island and well, anywhere else.

“That was some fight,” Suki kicked at some of the rocks on the beach, doing her best to look disinterested.

She was talking about the fight that had been staged between Y/N and Zuko hours earlier to get him thrown in the cooler. At first it had been just that, a fake fight for a means to an end, but by the end the guards really were pulling them off each other, trying to stop them from killing each other. Y/N rubbed her bruised arm, the one that Zuko had kicked when she had blocked him. It was better than a busted face.

“It got out of hand. We both have tempers.” Y/N had no idea what had set either of them off. One minute they were throwing fake insults at one another, and the next minute Y/N had her hands fisted in the front of his tunic hoping to get another punch in before she was hauled away from him. She hadn’t even realized how mad she was at him until she had come down from the adrenaline high in her cell. And she had yet to figure out why it all came about.

Suki smirked and held up her hands, “Hey, no judgment from me. He burnt down my village, Y/N. He deserves the black eye I hope he gets.”

Now it was Y/N’s turn to smile.

“But–

“Oh my spirits.” Y/N’s smile faded instantly.

Suki huffed. “But, you two need to get along for the time it takes for us to escape. After that, feel free to beat on him as much as you want.” Suki wiggled her eyebrows. “I’ll even help hold him down.”

---

Y/N could tell there was something on Sokka’s mind once the four of them slid the cooler down the hill and into the water. At first the idea of knowing someone that deeply shocked her to her core; the last time that happened it didn’t exactly go well. The second she had that thought the fear melted away like an ice floe. Of course Y/N knew Sokka like that! They spent 24 hours a day, 7 days a week together for weeks on end as they traveled through the Fire Nation. He was her best friend!

His gaze was downcast and he definitely wasn’t acting like the same person who 30 minutes beforehand had come to her cell and hugged her tightly, sliding his hand into her hair and promising with such conviction that he was going to get her out of there if it was the last thing he did.

---

Y/N knelt beside Sokka as he pulled out his blue Water Tribe clothes from behind a rock. Y/N laid a hand on his back and felt him tense up.

“What’s going on?” she murmured. She couldn’t help but think Zuko must have said something to him just as she and Suki had while they were separated. Was he trying to make Sokka think that their fight was her fault?

“We heard some guards talking–”

Anger flared in her chest as Y/N heard Zuko speak. “I didn’t ask you,” she sneered. The only thing that quashed some of her irritation was the beginnings of a bruise on his cheekbone. A black eye for sure, Y/N thought.

“You know what, Y/N–” Zuko started.

Y/N didn’t expect Sokka to stand up so suddenly, turning on the both of them. “Knock it off, both of you!” Sokka rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed in exasperation. “While I was getting Zuko out of the cooler, he and I overhead some guards passing by. They said that there would be more prisoners coming tomorrow. War prisoners.”

“Oh, Sokka, your dad…” Suki left the edge of the lake where she was holding the cooler from floating away and joined the three of them on the rocks.

“It doesn’t matter.” Sokka shook his head with a look of resolution in his eyes. “Let’s go.”

“Are you sure?” Zuko asked. His voice breaking the thick silence falling over the group.

“Of course I’m not sure.” Sokka admitted. “But we came here with the purpose to save Suki, and–and we were lucky to find Y/N here too. I feel like we’re risking too much now. If I had cut my losses at the invasion none of this would have happened in the first place. Maybe I need to do that now.”

“No, Sokka,” Y/N stepped in front of him, forcing him to look at her. “We stayed behind and that was our choice. Hakoda and I did not get captured because of you.” Y/N didn’t mention that it was because of her they were all in this mess.

“It’s better to call it quits before you lose.” Sokka’s voice was morose.

“Not in this case,” Zuko said. “You can’t quit because you’re afraid you might fail.”

“Even if I stay, what about you two?” Sokka grabbed at Y/N’s hands. “You and Suki should leave, you’ve been here long enough. And you too Zuko, you can get them out of here. I’ll stay behind and find my dad.”

“Not happening,” Y/N muttered. When Sokka opened his mouth to protest she quickly shook her head and added. “We all care about you Sokka. I’m staying.”

“Me too,” Suki seconded.

“Me three.” Zuko shared a look of understanding with Y/N. Whatever was happening between them could be figured out later. For now, they needed to work together.

Sokka pulled Y/N in for a hug. “I hope we’re not making a huge mistake,” he murmured into Y/N’s shoulder.

“I’m not too sure we have a choice anymore.” Suki pointed out. “The cooler is floating without us in it in the middle of the boiling lake.”

It had been a long time since Y/N had laughed that hard.

---

Y/N paced around her cell. She wished that patience came easier to her but everytime she sat down, she stood back up and began walking in circles again. Hakoda was here, they’d all seen him come off the gondola, but now that they were all separated again, it felt like she was in the dark.

Sokka had told them he was going to talk to his dad and hopefully the two of them could come up with a new plan that could get everyone out of Boiling Rock. But that had been hours ago and Y/N was starting to get worried that she hadn’t heard anything from him. What if he had gotten caught sneaking into Hakoda’s cell? Different scenarios swirled through her brain and they all ended the same way. Sokka, locked up, wearing the same prisoner’s garb that she was.

Y/N pressed her palm into her forehead. “Well at least all of us would be together here if that happens.” Y/N muttered to herself.

“If what happens?” Y/N could see Sokka’s blue eyes peering through the slat in her cell door.

“Oh thank Agni, you’re here.” Y/N rushed forward to embrace Sokka.

“Of course I’m here. I told you I’d come back.” Sokka said.

“Yeah, but I have this very rational fear that you’re going to get caught masquerading as a guard.” Y/N flicked Sokka’s visor with her index finger.

“I won’t get caught,” Sokka grabbed her hand before she could pull too far away and linked their fingers. “I saw my dad. He told me what happened.”

“Oh?” A lot had happened the day of invasion. She just wasn’t sure what Hakoda had shared.

“He said you saved the rest of the warriors by luring off the Fire Nation soldiers. Otherwise everyone would have been captured. I couldn’t be more grateful for what you did for them.”

Y/N’s cheeks grew hot. “You would have done the same.”

“It was kind–” Sokka kissed one blushing cheek. “–and brave–” he kissed her other cheek, “–and very stupid.” He finished by kissing her lips.

Y/N groaned and snaked her arms around his neck. “Please tell me you have a way out of here. It feels weird kissing a guard.”

Sokka laughed. “I do. We’re leaving on the gondola; today.

Y/N eyes widened. “I’m not even going to ask how we’re going to pull that off.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got everything planned out. I’ve already talked to Suki but…” Sokka paused.

“But what?”

“I can’t find Zuko,” Sokka admitted.

“Well that’s not good.” Y/N might not have thought too highly of Zuko at the moment but Sokka seemed to be friendly with him and she knew that he wouldn’t leave without him.

“I’ll keep looking.” Sokka said resolutely. “I’ve got to go. Find me when they let everyone into the yard.”

“Be careful.” Y/N watched him step outside of her cell and slide the door shut, darkening the room once more. She was halfway to her cot when she heard Sokka’s voice, still outside her door, and it didn’t sound like he was talking to her.

Y/N tiptoed closer so she’d be able to hear what he was saying.

“–they’ve really got to get their act together.” A voice that Y/N didn’t recognize said.

Sokka chuckled nervously. “Uh haha, yeah. Well, I got this one, you just get the next one, okay?” Y/N could already picture him doing a set of cheesy finger-guns at whoever he was just talking to.

Just then, the door to her cell slid open again and Sokka stood there with a worried look on his face.

“What’s going on?” Y/N whispered, unsure whether the other guards were somewhere near.

“The warden wants to see you.”

---

The only thought that was rushing through her head as Sokka marched her back to the interrogation rooms was that she needed to keep one foot in front of the other. Her knees shook the whole way there and Sokka could tell that she was a bundle of nerves.

“This is why you couldn’t find Zuko,” Y/N said matter-a-factly.

“What?” Sokka’s head turned to look at her.

Y/N looked straight ahead. “You couldn’t find Zuko because they already pulled him aside to talk to the warden. They probably found that cooler floating in the middle of the lake and assumed that him and I had something to do with it. They’re going to lock down the whole prison trying to figure out how we did it and who helped us and you’re gonna get caught and th–”

“Y/N, relax,” Sokka squeezed her arm. “You’re hyperventilating.” He looked around the hallway, looking for some place to stop but it was too big of a risk; so they kept walking, albeit Sokka had slowed them down significantly. “No one is going to get caught. I don’t know why the warden wants to talk with you again, but it doesn’t matter. I said we’re getting out of here today and I meant it.”

“I’m not worried about me,” Y/N said through gritted teeth. “I’m worried about you.”

“I know. But don’t, I can take care of myself.”

“I know that.” Y/N hoped that what she said didn't offend him. Of course she knew that Sokka was a perfectly capable warrior who could protect himself. But it was just so much easier to be with him every step of the way to watch his back and make absolutely sure he was okay. It was the most frustrating thing about imprisonment. The control that she held so dearly was gone while she’d been here, and she was clawing at the walls trying to get it back.

“I’ll find Zuko and I’ll come back to get you,” Sokka muttered under his breath as he left her with the pair of guards standing outside of the room.

---

Y/N had prepared herself to expect anything when the door slid open, but seeing Azula standing there waiting for her was the last thing Y/N expected.

“Azula? What is going on?” Y/N jumped as the door slid shut behind her, leaving her alone, locked in a windowless cell with one of her enemies.

“Why did he send you here?” Azula asked.

“What?” Y/N was extremely confused.

“Your father. Why did he send you here?”

“I am a traitor to the Fire Nation, I thought you would be happy to see me imprisoned. It’s what you would have done.”

“Not here. Not with these people.”

“So what? Why do you care about me all of a sudden?”

“Not all of a sudden,” Azula murmured. “I can overrule your dad’s orders. I’m bringing you back to the Fire Nation with me.”

“What? No!” Y/N felt like she couldn’t breathe, like she was being backed into a corner with no way out.

“Why not? Why don’t you want to come back with me?!” Azula shouted.

“Why would you want me to?”

“Because you don’t belong here! You told me that you could change me–why can’t I do the same to you? Why can’t I bring you back to the Fire Nation and make you Y/N again, because that’s not who you are right now.”

“Oh yeah? Well who am I then?” Y/N taunted.

Azula completely ignored her question. Opting to cross her arms and roll her eyes. “You don’t have a choice. You’re coming back to the Fire Nation.”

“I won’t be your puppet anymore.”

“You think that.” Azula’s gold eyes bore into Y/N’s. “But at your lowest, I’ll be the only one that’s there, and you’ll come back.”

Y/N was seconds away from screaming. How dare Azula think that she would even stoop so low as to come crawling back into her good graces. Did she ever really know Y/N as deeply as she claimed? Because if she did she would know that it would never work on her.

Suddenly, a guard slammed the door open, breaking the reverie between the two of them. “Princess, there is a riot in the yard. We have to get you to safety.”

Y/N scoffed at the idea of someone Azula away from the fight to keep her safe. She would want to be right in the middle of it. But Y/N didn’t have time to think about it much more. She assumed that was her cue to leave.

---

Y/N shoved past the guard in the doorway, grabbing the ring of keys on his belt as she ran past. She slammed the door shut and locked it. Y/N felt the door shake as both Azula and the guard threw fire, trying to break it down, but Y/N knew that they would have a rough go at that. It was a prison after all. Everywhere was meant to keep angry firebenders locked in.

She took off in a dead sprint backtracking the way that she and Sokka came. She turned the corner and ran smack into someone. Y/N fell hard to the ground but immediately rolled to her feet, in a fighting stance.

A hand gripped the front of her shirt, his other hand poised over her face. “Oh, it’s you.”

Y/N pushed Zuko away. “Get off,” she growled.

Zuko rolled his eyes, “Come on, we have to go.” his voice was gruff.

Zuko and Y/N pushed their way through the rioters to get to where they had spotted Sokka through the crowd.

“How’d you get out, Y/N? I was just about to come and get you.” Sokka asked, shocked.

“I’ll tell you later, right now we need to get out of here. Fast!” Y/N looked around her and counted heads; they were all there, including Hakoda and Suki. Y/N didn’t know how long the cell could keep Azula contained. If she was as mad as Y/N thought she was, it wouldn’t be nearly long enough.

“We just need to grab the warden and get to the gondolas.” Sokka promised.

“How are we going to do that?” Zuko asked.

“I haven’t figured that part out yet,” Sokka cringed.

While Zuko and Sokka argued over the plan to escape not being fully developed, Suki tugged on Y/N’s arm. She pointed up to the main tower; guards rushed across the balconies, but one person didn’t move, just stood watching over the mayhem happening in the yard.

“There he is,” Suki muttered.

“Let’s get him.” Y/N grinned.

---

Suki and Y/N ran, dodging and weaving between the prisoners and guards fighting. They scaled the tower using the balcony railings as handholds and footholds together, until they landed on the same level the warden was on.

Suki took on the first guard they encountered, ducking under his fire punch and tripping him. Y/N slid under another’s legs, and grabbed the only weapon the guards carried, a heavy baton meant to scare the prisoners into submission. She smashed it into his face as she rolled to a stand.

The warden made a run for it, but Y/N caught up to him, holding the baton against his neck. “I didn’t take you for a coward.”

Suki came around the front of him and smiled at Y/N who was hovering over the man’s shoulder. “Of course he is, Y/N. You should see his face, he looks like you’ve got a sword held to his throat.”

“I wish it was a sword,” Y/N grumbled.

Suki quickly tied his hands and gagged his mouth. Y/N pushed him to the ground and the two girls stood over him. A satisfied expression crossed Suki’s face. “Sorry warden, you’re our prisoner now.”

---

Halfway to the gondola, more guards showed up to stop them. Everyone ducked as Zuko blocked the guards firebending. “Stop! Back up! We have the warden!”

Each and every one of the guards looked to one another to figure out how they were going to handle this type of situation. Slowly, as a collective, they backed away, allowing five of them to pass along with the warden who seemed to be screaming obscenities behind his gag. He began to struggle against his bindings and Hakoda, who was leading him.

Y/N hefted her baton and pushed the warden’s cheek. “We don’t have to let you walk. One swing and you’ll be out like a light.” That seemed to quiet him down.

Zuko started the gondola and then repeatedly kicked at the lever, breaking it in half so the guards had no way of stopping them once they started. He jumped from the platform and landed on the edge of the gondola; Sokka pulled him inside one of the windows.

It was slow moving but Y/N could feel the gondola climbing the cable, dragging them out of the Boiling Rock. It was surprisingly silent, like none of them could really believe it was happening, and so easily at that. Everyone shared a cautious look.

“Is that it?” Suki asked warily. “Are we really on our way?”

“Uh, who’s that?” Hakoda asked, pointing over Y/N’s shoulder back to the platform.

Y/N turned around and stuck her head out the window. When she caught sight of who Hakoda had seen, her whole body tensed up. “That would be what I was going to tell you about.”

“That’s a problem,” Zuko said, his head peeking out the window next to Y/N’s. “It’s Azula and Ty Lee.”

Suki joined Y/N at the window. “I’ve been waiting for this rematch.”

“Me too,” Zuko said.

Y/N couldn’t say she agreed; in fact she definitely disagreed. It felt her story was never-ending at this point. She would feel much better if she never had to see Azula again.

Azula smirked and Y/N could feel her eyes on her face. By the time that Y/N had climbed to the top of the gondola with the others, both girls had made it there. Ty Lee gunned for Suki and Y/N at one end of the gondola, while the boys took care of Azula at the other end.

Y/N immediately noticed something different about Ty Lee; her brow was furrowed at Y/N and her eyes narrowed. She was angry.

Y/N was so shook to her core at never seeing Ty Lee angry–ever–that she was almost chi-blocked in her left arm. Luckily, Suki wasn’t phased in the slightest and stepped in to block. Y/N quickly ducked out of the way to get her bearings.

“Why did you leave?” Ty Lee shouted over the wind whipping in their ears.

“What are you talking about?” Y/N blocked a hit from Ty Lee and kicked out, trying to trip the girl. She was much too agile and backflipped over Y/N’s leg like it was nothing.

“No explanation, not a word to me about anything!” Ty Lee took a moment to throw a savage punch at Y/N’s head. “What happened?”

Y/N ducked to the left, grabbed her arm and bent it behind Ty Lee’s back. “She asked me to kill someone!”

Ty Lee was like an eel-snake and slipped right out Y/N’s hands, chi-blocking her right arm along the way. Y/N’s arm went numb, pins and needles traveled down from her shoulder all the way to her wrist. Ty Lee chuffed at Y/N’s words and held up her hands, ready to jump right back into the fight. Suki squared up alongside Y/N, ready to finish things. But Y/N was so tired of fighting her friends. She stepped forward, but made no move to attack the other girl.

“I found a better way!” Y/N held her limp arm to her chest and she noticed a waver in Ty Lee’s normally steady hands. “I saw my chance at a life where I wasn’t fighting every second of every day!” She shouted. “Now, are you mad at me for leaving, or are you mad at yourself for not?”

A look of realization passed across Ty Lee’s face, just as she heard Suki shout. “Guys! I think they’re going to cut the line!”

Y/N’s eyes snapped from Ty Lee’s to the platform where she could see guards working on cutting the cable holding the gondola up.

“Then it’s time to leave,” Azula smirked and used her firebending to blast herself up on top of an incoming gondola. When Y/N looked back, Ty Lee was already jumping to the other gondola sparing a concerned look in Y/N’s direction.

---

Y/N crawled back into the gondola through the window, landing next to Suki on the floor. Her arm was just regaining part of its feeling as she made her way to the front of the gondola with the boys to watch the guards cut only thing still holding them in the sky.

“I hope this thing floats,” Hakoda said absently.

“Yeah, if we don’t die from the impact of it hitting the water,” Y/N couldn’t help but add.

“Wait, look!” Zuko exclaimed. He pointed out a dark figure flinging knives at the guards cutting the cable.

Mai! Y/N quickly leaned out the window to the other gondola, where Azula and Ty Lee were standing, hoping to gauge a reaction from them. She shared a worried look with Zuko. They both knew what it meant to cross Azula when it came to something she wanted.

---

Just then, the gondola shuddered to a stop on the far rim of the volcano and they all hopped out.

“If Azula’s here she must have brought an airship,” Zuko said. He walked up a large hill by the sea, looking for it, but Y/N was still stuck staring across the boiling lake.

Sokka grabbed her hand. “Come on, we have to go. Azula could be right on our tail.” He began tugging her in the direction the rest of the group had run and she let herself be pulled along because Y/N had seen all she needed to see.

“I don’t think she is,” Y/N said to Sokka moments later, as they boarded the airship.

“You don’t think what?” Sokka asked, confused as to what Y/N was talking about.

Y/N slid down the wall of the airship, all the adrenaline leaving her body at once. “I don’t think Azula’s going to be after us right away.”

Sokka sat beside her and quirked an eyebrow up. “Why not?”

“Because I’m pretty sure while I was still up there I saw Ty Lee chi-block her.”

Sokka’s eyes widened, recognizing how big of a deal that really was.

Y/N’s emotions crashed down on her like a hefty wave. There was so much to process, so much to mull over. She simultaneously wished she could take a hot bath and drink a hot cup of tea, hell, she would even settle for a bath in the river if nothing at the moment changed. But one thought dominated all the rest. Home. She dropped her head into her hands and stared at the floor between her legs.

“Spirits, you don’t know how happy I am to see you,” Y/N murmured.

“You’ve been with me for the past two days,” Sokka replied, his voice muffled into her hair.

Y/N snorted. “That’s not what I mean.”

“I know what you mean.” Suddenly, like it was the last thing he would ever do, Sokka tipped her head up and pulled her in for a bruising kiss.

It felt like home.

---

a/n: most of suki and Y/N’s time together at boiling rock isn’t mentioned to keep the wc down, but we can guess that they became fast friends while there. And yes, I’m really ramping up the sappiness in Y/N and Sokka’s relationship in preparation for a surprise coming in the near future!

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justalarryblog · 3 years

Text

🎆Thank You, Daddy by @recklessandbrave (10k) | Explicit

Harry’s hot, wet mouth is around him before Louis even has the chance to blink, and it feels so good, the icy sting of the frozen dessert disappearing as Harry’s soft tongue laps it up. After Harry swallows, he pulls off the head of Louis’ cock and then dips down to trail his tongue up the shaft, collecting the bits that dribbled down. “Yummy. Thank you, daddy.” He hums pleasantly.

Or the one where Louis gets an idea, and Harry wears panties

Part 2 of Pastel

🎆Stillness Is The Move by @turnyourankle (2k) | Explicit

Harry fails to follow instructions and requires punishment.

🎆And I know he’ll be the death of me, at least we’ll both be numb by @capturethesunset (3k) | Not Rated

Louis getting wrecked by jealous Harry.

🎆give and take by @sky_reid (1k) | Explicit

sometimes louis just needs.

🎆we’re still going, eight in the morning by @nooelgallagher, @yoursongonmyheart (31k) | Explicit

Harry washes his hands quickly before grabbing his phone. His screen lights up to 3 notifications.

DJTommo is now following you!

@DJTommo mentioned you in a tweet!

Direct Message from @DJTommo!

Harry yelps, throwing his phone to Niall who just barely catches it.

Niall looks down at the phone, seeing first the tweet, then the DM. He tosses the phone back to Harry, who nearly drops it. “What are ya doing, mate! Answer him!”

Harry thinks for a moment about what he wants to say. This is his chance to actually talk to Louis Tomlinson. Louis Tomlinson messaged him directly. He can say anything he wants. He begins typing, his fingers shaky.

Niall comes over to stand next to Harry and peers down, looking to see what he wrote. When he does, he lets out a groan.

…Or, the one where Harry owns a bakery, Louis is a radio DJ, and Niall and Liam roll their eyes at their incessant flirting.

🎆When I hear your cries, praying for life. (I will be there) by @brokenbeauty (5k) | Explicit

Well, I figured we needed Larry birthday sex, soooo….. ;))))

🎆St. Austin’s School for Boys by @domtommo, @winsomefreak (100k) | Explicit

St. Austin’s School for Boys is a correction school for young men that uses corporal punishment as their means of discipline. After one too many infractions, Harry Styles is sent there till graduation. Upon arriving Harry meets his dorm advisor who also happens to be the first year sex-education teacher and footie coach, Louis Tomlinson. Harry falls in absolute adoration for the teacher and is all too ready to drop down onto his knees for him. During his stay he learns some very interesting things about himself… Welcome to St. Austin’s School for Boys, where the hallways are filled with love, drama, and sex.

Part 1 of St. Austin’s School for Boys

🎆I’m Gonna Love You (Until You Hate me) by @sweaterpawstyles (8k) | Explicit

As if reading his mind, Louis glanced over his glasses at Harry, presumably because Harry didn’t reply to his statement earlier.

“I decided to get my glasses out again,” he chuckled, winking at Harry. “Do you like them?“

Harry felt his face heat up. No, he didn’t just like them. He fucking loved them and wanted to ride Louis and call him daddy while he wore them. But he didn’t want to just tell Louis this.

Louis wears glasses and Harry doesn’t like to be teased

🎆jump in the deep end by @istajmaal (4k) | Explicit

Louis’s stomach lurches as he closes the last bit of distance, Harry’s nose settling between his arse cheeks and pushing them apart. Harry’s lips brush against the puckered skin around Louis’s hole in a kiss and Louis lets out a whine so high-pitched he barely recognizes it as coming from himself—what if I’m not clean enough, what if Harry hates it, what if Harry pushes me away—but then Harry’s long, wet tongue swoops in a circle around Louis’s rim and Louis feels like all the breath is knocked out of him. He grabs for Harry’s hand, still digging into his thigh, and squeezes over it, until Harry releases his vice grip on Louis’s thigh and laces his fingers through Louis’s.

or, Louis’s arse is a sensitive subject, so Harry approaches it gently. With his tongue.

🎆daddy daddy cool by @sky_reid (6k) | Explicit

harry wakes up hard.

🎆Truth Be Told (I Never Was Yours) by @JustForTommo (76k) | Explicit

Harry watches Louis as he scrunches up his nose and bites the end of a pen in concentration. He’s been working on seating arrangements for the past hour and getting more frustrated by the minute. Louis huffs out a breath and glances down at Harry with a soft smile on his lips before he returns to the task at hand. It’s easy, right then, for Harry to let himself believe that they’re planning a seating chart for their own wedding and bickering over who is going to sit where from a list of their own family members. He can let himself daydream about a white picket fence and a dog that they could have within the next year.

It’s like a cold slap in the face when Harry looks to the top of the page to see “Aiden and Louis Grimshaw” at the head table, and Harry has to mentally remind himself for the thousandth time that Louis is not his. Never was, really. He’s just the wedding planner that’s been in love with Louis since he was sixteen.

(or the one where Louis and Harry have a complicated past, Louis is getting married to someone that’s not Harry, and the universe has decided to have a laugh and make Harry the wedding planner.)

🎆This Feeling orphan_account (58k) | Explicit

“Gonna play it back for you now.” Louis clicked play and the song flooded through Harry’s headphones.

The sound of each others voices united into one, and the rhythm of the music carried their voices effortlessly. Harry’s insides tingled and a wave of shivers rolled down his spine.

Before the clip cut off, Harry turned to raise an eyebrow at Louis, and failed miserably at disguising his smile. Louis stared back at him in shock.

Or A Larry Duet AU

🎆The Night Sky is Changing Overhead orphan_account (124k) | Explicit

“Um, sorry, but I believe that’s actually mine,” Harry said a bit awkwardly, pointing at the cup.

The man huffed, slightly narrowing his blue eyes, “Nope, large Americano, dash of cream.” He held the coffee up closer to Harry and honestly, Harry knew exactly what was in the cup because it was his coffee.

“Right,” Harry slowly drawled out as if he was talking to a toddler, “Which would make that mine.”

“Look, I really don’t have time for this, I’m running late. And this,” he said before he took a sip from the cup, “Is mine.”

Harry’s jaw dropped and he held his hands out, failing them slightly, “Wha-you can’t just drink it!”

“Well I did, so, do you still want it or can I be on my way?” The man challenged.

Harry shook his head disbelievingly, “Take it, but for the record, it says Harry on it.”

The man turned the cup around and a sharp laugh came out of his mouth, “Well, shit.” He looked at Harry, a smile stretched across his face as crinkles formed next to his eyes. “Thanks, Harry.”

🎆The Arrangement by @daddyy_harryy, @HyFrLarry1224 (218k) | Mature

Louis knew it was his time. Once anyone turned 13, they were watched. And when they were 16 it could be any time. Anytime they could be taken. It was just weeks after his 16th birthday and there he was, sitting in the back of the van.

Louis is forced to marry Harry and bear his children. He is to listen to Harry and do as he says, no matter what. Speaking is a given, and freedom doesn’t exist. Will the sixteen year old boy find himself falling in love with the Leader of the British Mafia? Or will he find himself stuck in a place he doesn’t want to be, with an abusive asshole for a husband?

🎆Something in the World Today by @whoknows(48k) | Explicit

It shouldn’t be a surprise, the first time that Louis drops to his knees in front of Harry. It shouldn’t be, because it’s been something that Louis has needed for a long time. It shouldn’t be, because he’s been crawling out of his skin for weeks on end. It shouldn’t be, because Harry always makes him feel better. It shouldn’t be, because he’s needed this even when he didn’t know that he needed it.

Somehow, it still is.

🎆I Cannot Dream Tonight Series by @afangirlfantasy (50k) | Not Rated

At 16 years old, everyone takes a compatibility test on their birthday. At some point after taking the test, and along with other data collected, everyone finds out if they are a Dom or Sub.

At 17 years old, everyone receives a bracelet that notifies them when they have been matched. Every Dom needs a Sub. Every Sub needs a Dom.

When Louis’ bracelet lights up weeks after getting it, let’s just say that who he is matched with, is not quite what he had been expecting.

🎆Don’t Waste Your Time On Me, You’re Already The Voice Inside My Head by @afangirlfantasy (28k) | Not Rated

At 16 years old, everyone takes a compatibility test on their birthday. At some point after taking the test, and along with other data collected, everyone finds out if they are a Dom or Sub.

🎆His Submission Series by tonystankyall (orphan_account) (152k) | Mature

Louis Tomlinson lives in a world where Domination and Submission is a norm. When you are born you are either branded Sub or Dom. Subs get a little pink or blue, depeneding on gender, series of swirls on the back of their neck. Doms get Red or Black, depending on gender, series of swirls on the back of their neck.

Louis Tomlinson was branded with a Blue tattoo and his day has finally come. The day of his 18th birthday where he will be randomly assigned a Dom. This dom could range from younger to older, poorer to richer, and male to female. You never knew what you were going to get. Some Doms were more harsher and stricter than others. Louis didn’t want a harsh Dom to submit to.

Harry Styles was branded with a Black tattoo and he just recieved in the mail that he was finally getting a submissive. Harry was a 32 year old man, settled in, and very very rich. He’s been waiting for an assigned submissive to be chosen for him for a very long time. His Dom friend, Zayn, has gotten his submissive two years prior, a little spit fire irish boy, Niall.

*The rest is in the note*

At 17 years old, everyone receives a bracelet that notifies them when they have been matched. Every Dom needs a Sub. Every Sub needs a Dom.

When Louis’ bracelet lights up weeks after getting it, let’s just say that who he is matched with, is not quite what he had been expecting.

🎆driving instructor fic by @LoadedGunn (104k) | Explicit

AU where Louis is a 25-year-old driving instructor and Harry is a 17-year-old virgin who’s really awful at seduction, except for the time he gets Louis to fall for him and fuck him senseless and take him on kinky adventures.

🎆Loving You Is Free by @littlelouishiccups (91k) | Explicit

Louis is a workaholic record label CEO who hasn’t been on a date in nearly a year. Niall and Liam make an account for him on a sugar dating website as a joke. And then Louis meets Harry.

🎆sex shop fic (dildornado ‘verse) by @istajmaal, @LoadedGunn (96k) | Explicit

AU where Louis is the most helpful sex shop salesperson in the history of sex shops, and Harry really was just looking for a vibrator with simple instructions (yet ended up getting a hands-on demonstration).

🎆welcome to the mansion by @blankiehxrry (7k) | Explicit

Harry is a Playboy bunny.

🎆Wild and Rain by @softandslow (45k) | Explicit

Louis has been looking after Tessa since he was sixteen. Harry’s a man in a business suit who has loved his daughter’s babysitter for three whole years.

🎆A Million Years by @sunflowerstyles (3k) | Explicit

Louis always ends up feeling guilty that he’s not ready to give Harry what he wants. Harry shows him how much fun they can have while they wait together.

🎆Can’t help but touch myself by @Tita (7k) | Explicit

“I asked what these were, love.” Harry gulps. “Panties,” he explains with heated cheeks, needing more than the light touches from Louis and getting nothing. “What did you get them for? Were they to impress someone else?” He asks, and Harry shakes his head fervently, stumbling over his words as he tries to get his tongue to cooperate. “No, no,” he emphasizes, arching his back to plaster himself to Louis. “For you, always for you, Daddy.”

🎆Champagne by @fanshae (2k) | Explicit

“Look at how pretty you are,” Louis murmurs, Harry’s stockinged toes curling against the floor at the praise, “Give Daddy a twirl, baby.”

🎆connoisseurs of comfort by @sky_reid (45k) | Explicit

louis has only really had his flat to himself for a few weeks when liam knocks on the door and brings him a new flatmate. this one turns out to be a bit different though.

🎆Dance Floor Whore by @ropewithnoanchor (7k) | Explicit

Louis and Harry go to a club while on tour to blow off some steam, but Harry gets too drunk and lets another man dance up on him in front of everyone. Louis takes him back to their hotel and spends the next morning punishing Harry, making Harry work to make it up to him.

🎆Give It Up To Me by @krisstylinson (8k) | Explicit

“You’re going to end up making me come with all the boys in our lounge,” he finished, his tone softening the longer he spoke.

“And?” Harry murmured, placing his palm over the crevice of Louis’ arse, keeping the plug nice and tight inside of him. “What if I wanted you to?”

Or the cliché where Louis isn’t supposed to come but he does, and that can’t go unpunished in Harry’s eyes.

🎆just want to make love to you by @beautlouis (3k) | Explicit

Louis has a lapful of Harry before the car has even closed and maybe he should be a bit concerned about that, judging from the look in Liam’s eye, but it’s hard to worry about anything when Harry’s wriggling against him, warm and insistent.

“’m so hard,” Harry pants against his ear, “Been this way since we got off the stage, want–want you to fuck me, yeah, I want–”

*the aftermath of the xfactor performance where harry went wild

🎆my one and own (i wanna get you alone) by @beautlouis (6k) | Explicit

Louis’ favorite thing to do is make Harry come. It’s the best feeling in the world, watching the boy he loves fall apart underneath him; to see how good it feels for Harry, in every line and movement of his body.

Louis pushes a thigh between Harry’s and grinds just enough that Harry sighs gently and ruts his hips back into Louis. Holding Harry’s waist firmly, Louis presses his lips into Harry’s ear and says, “I think I’d like to make you come.”

It isn’t as if they don’t both know that’s what tonight is—Louis making Harry come—but the verbal acknowledgment of it makes Harry moan sharply and turn his head to try to pull Louis into a kiss.

🎆Push You Over The Edge (So I Can Pull You Back) by orphan_account (16k) | Explicit

It’s after a long two weeks of interviews and non-stop appearances that have got Harry stressed to the limit of yanking his hair out and throwing a fit and crying that Louis shows it to him, walks in the door with a sleek black bag in his left hand and inconspicuous brown one in his right.

🎆To Be Loved To Be In Love by @Angel_Dust (129k) | Mature

At 18, every Sub must take a Match Test to find their Dom.

Poor, Farm kid Louis Tomlinson is matched with Rich, Businessman Harry Styles.

Or, where Harry thinks giving Money, expensive presents and luxuries proves how much you love someone, but Louis is about to turn his world upside down.

🎆Wake Me Up by @larrystylins (2k) | Explicit

Harry stretches and accidentally pushes his bare bum into Louis’ crotch. Oh. That’s definitely Louis’ cock. Okay that’s definitely the outline of Louis’ hard cock pressing against him. “Lou?” he whispers. Of course Louis is fast asleep..

or Harry wakes up to Louis’ morning wood pressed against his bum. Harry gets needy. Louis wakes up and punishes him.

🎆You Don’t Need Me To Show The Way by @LoadedGunn (6k) | Explicit

But right there, on Harry’s iPod, is a folder entitled Lou Sappy Sappy Long Indie Hipster 80’s Love Songs Mixtape.

Louis expects a sappy mix tape. He might even expect his own shitty versions of Foo Fighter songs. What he doesn’t expect is clicking on “AUD-20101223” and suddenly hearing loud moaning. He gasps and scrambles to pause it, so shocked the iPod drops right to Harry’s stomach. Harry looks absolutely mortified, even more than he did when Louis played High School Musical. He’s blushing so furiously his face bypassed rosy straight to flaming red, and his mouth is closing and opening like he can’t think of a single thing to say.

Then Louis starts laughing uproariously. “Hiiii, I’m Harry from Cheshire, when I’m on the road I like listening to indie music and gay porn.”

Or, 2011 fic where Harry rides dick for the first time and Louis appreciates technology.

✨You can also check My Fic Tags for more fics! ✨

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spookysmujer · 4 years

Text

Cherry pt.2, O. Diaz

Summary: Y/N is in her feelings and Oscar’s guilt doesn’t allow him to let her in.

warnings: angst, f e e l s, cliche love shet 🤩

word count: 3.6k

A/N: I want to thank everyone who has been so patient! The writers block was soooo major. The love that Cherry got sent me so naturally I had to do a part 2 and I hope y’all like it. I’m lowkey feeling a part 3...🤪 I have a few drafts of Spooky/Sad Eyes fics that I am slowly but surely working on. Hopefully I’ll have a few up sometime this week/weekend. ❤️ Please: Heart! Reblog! Follow! Turn on those notifications! Love ya!

(gif belongs to @merakiaes 🦋)

“Boo, you whore.”

Another piece of popcorn hits the tv screen joining the pile that has accumulated on the floor below since the beginning of the movie you started almost 2 hours ago. The guy confessing his love below the girls window, the sappy confession, the cliche smile and laugh. Yuck, it makes you pretend gag as you fly a handful of popcorn this time.

If someone told you that you would be all bent up about turning down a guy, you’d tell them that they’re tripping but here you are. The typical ‘in your feelings’ watching sappy shit and in the same clothes as yesterday morning. Yes, yesterday morning. How the hell did you get here?

For the 3rd time in that hour you pick up your phone to check for any notifications. Almost unlocking it to open the contacts app and.. No! You mentally condemn yourself for thinking of calling him. It would be pointless considering he hasn’t made any form of contact since that night at the beach. Since Oscar ‘Spooky’ Diaz told you, his weekend booty call, he might think he feels something more between the two of you. It’s not the first time a guy has confessed that he has a crush on you, it’s just never been done like this. It’s usually, hey I like you, then comes the banging and then ghosted. Now it’s completely opposite.

You can’t help but be confused and laugh about the whole thing because since Oscar became the leader of of the Santos he had been a cold looking, tough talking, macho man that no one would dare question. Even with you when the whole FWB started then he got comfortable. You definitely weren’t prepared for it.

With all this ghosting and being a sad little girl, it has given you time to think about it all. About pursuing a relationship with Spooky. But with how things went down, you question it even more than you did before. His immediate reaction to rejection is anger and pettiness. Instead of looking at the situation and thinking on how to handle it. If this is how he handles his relationships you can only imagine how he handles his gang business but the teardrop tattoo tells you enough.

Without even thinking of the two you of being the two of you, being with him... it was something. When you’d have sex and just lay next to him, it did feel like something. But you never acknowledged it as anything because it was just sex and was explicitly labeled by him as just so.

“This is just sad.” Your sister says as she stands in the door way, to which you completely ignore.

You point the remote to the tv and turn up the volume, “Your life is sad.”

“Yeah, but not as sad as yours.”

She strides over and grabs the remote from besides you to turn off the movie. You roll your eyes and grab your phone as another means of distraction, which she grabs from you too.

“What?!”

She gives you a look of ‘oh really?’ and crosses her arms. If there is one thing to get you to lose your marbles it’s when people stare at you. Waiting for you to crack and you always do.

“What do you want me to do? He clearly got his feelings hurt and doesn’t want anything to do with me. And for what it’s worth, I’m not even entirely sure I can see anything happening between us.” You admit, finally looking at the younger verison of yourself.

She sighs and ushers you to move over to let her lay beside you, “Y/N, you really don’t get it, huh? Oscar likes you! It scared you when he admitted it because like I always say, he’s a dangerous guy. But sweetheart, you may not see it entirely but you still see it. You are curious. You want to know what’s there besides sex no matter how much you say that you can’t see it. Hello! We can all see that y’all weren’t just sleeping with each other. Something is there and you need to just take that leap of faith. You keep telling yourself that it’s pointless to try and talk with him. Then I see you like this and it’s obvious you’re in your feelings. So do something about it.”

She smacks your leg and gets up to leave. You can only huff and puff at her opinion. What more could you do though? You’ve given him space both after the night at the beach and when you left him the voicemail. Perhaps his pride is too big and he didn’t want to make the first move. But so is yours. If you didn’t make the move, your sister would drag you there. So fuck it, you sigh and roll out of bed to make yourself presentable to go talk to Oscar.

After sitting in your driveway for 10 minutes trying to talk yourself out of it, you twist the key into the ignition and take a deep, semi-confident breath, “Okay, just go over there and talk to him. Ask him what’s up, why he been ghosting you. Just be cool. Com’n Y/N, shake your damn nerves. You’re that bitch, been that bitch and will foreva be the bitch!”

You pep talk yourself while driving to Oscars and it makes you feel a little better and it distracts you long enough that you’re now driving on the familiar street. You park behind a few cars on the curb that’s a house down from his.

As you approach it, music can be heard as well as guys talking. It’s mid afternoon which meant the Santos were probably scattered on the front lawn. Sure enough as you step in front of the house there is a few on the porch, a few on the run down couches and others standing around. Oscar leant besides the stairs and his eyes find yours for a brief second.

You look at the Cholos as you walk up the pathway leading to the stairs of the house. A few hushed conversations and tsks from the rucas.

“Hey,” You make your way in front of Oscar who just takes a swig of his redbull, eyes avert and looking down at his feet.

“Sup.”

You look at Joker who sports an amused face, staring at you like you were raspado on a hot day, you inhale deeply and look back to Oscar, shifting your weight and crossing your arms.

“I tried calling, even left you a message. Did you get it?” Oscar still didn’t look at you, only at the can in his hand, sniffing and shrugging his shoulders.

It isn’t that Oscar is upset that you turned him down or even that you trash talked him, but that he feels like shit when he listened to your voicemail. As he had just spent that Friday night doing fine ass Leti in a hotel room on Fremont street, in Sin City. Because yes, it was fucked up on what you said. But Oscar did feel like he wanted more with you, not from you. It scared him to admit it, he wasn’t one to have time for serious relationship shit but hell he wanted it. So when you went off, he did too.

“Been busy, I’m a busy man.” He finally looks to you, taking a long gulp then crushing the empty can in hand and tossing it aside. Your eyes follow it and you scoff.

The Santos laugh as a side smirk forms on his face, “Real busy, homes!”

It’s obvious he is playing the part of being the leader, looking tough and shit. His machismo running hard.

“Since when you that kinda hyna, Y/N? Y’all just fucking why you so pressed on why he ain’t on your ass?” Joker calls out, getting a chuckle from Oscar and everyone else.

You deadpan look at him and then look to Oscar, waiting for him to talk to you. To ask the guys to bounce or even signal you to take a walk but he just stares at you like you were some annoying Girl Scout at the front door.

“You lucky you fine because you real dumb.” Another Santo you recognize as Oso says and you feel real ganged up on now. You lick your lips and purse them into a thin line, looking at him to ask what the hell he means by that. “Nena, he was busy banging fine ass Leti that’s why he ain’t call you back. Looks like he wanted something spicer.”

Your brows furrow at Oso’s words. Busy banging fine ass Leti. Everyone begins to laugh and look at you like you’re the high school laughing stock. Oscar’s facial expression says yup, that’s right. But you weren’t about to succumb to Oso’s words and react the way they probably hope you will.

“Sin City, huh? Nice.”

That’s all you say as you start to walk away from the house. You honestly could have said more, more trash talk about Oscar fucking Leti or worse. You could have gone off about how Spooky got his little heart broken but you weren’t about to make a fool of him in front of the Santos, you weren’t a prick like that. Let him have his power trip, you thought.

You could feel the tears forming as you make your way back to the car. The hot liquid threatening to spill over but quickly blinking them away. After getting in the car, you grip the steering wheel and take a deep, sharp breath before starting it and driving off.

Oscar continues to laugh with his homies about what just happened but he briefly lets his face fall as he replays the look you gave him and how cold your voice became. But this is how he hoped it’d go. He secretly hoped you’d be offended and leave because the guilt he felt when listening to your voicemail told him that he didn’t deserve a woman like you. So pushing you away works better.

“Hynas be fuckin’ trippin’.” He says pulling the cigarette pack from his pocket.

The look you give your sister when you get back to your loft is all she needed to understand how things went. She gave you an apologetic look as you shrugged your shoulders. Nothing a bathe couldn’t fix.

In all your years of dating, this has to be the most fucked up thing. It’s one thing for a guy to sleep with you and then ghost you, but to admit feelings then fuck other chick and ghost you? That hits different.

The speaker plays music as the candles burn sweet aromas while you sit in a hot, bubbly bath. You have your head tipped back and eyes closed. It’s when you get comfortable that your mind starts replaying the moments that connected to Oscar’s confession that night.

The smiles Oscar had when you’d walk through his front door, the lingering stares when you’d talk, the skin to skin even after the sex was long over. The guy has liked you from the start.

Then you start to think your reactions. The burning feeling in your cheeks, the comfort in the touches, the tink your heart had when his name popped up on your phone.

“Fuck.”

How did you not see how you were falling for him as he was for you? How could you deny it was just sex when you thought of him before, during and after the hook ups? Did that “Spooky” image of him really cloud your judgement that much? Sweetheart, the guy admitted he bounced to go fuck Leti in Las Vegas!

But you know the only reason he did so is because of his go-to reaction to things. Oscar always gets his way with things and people.

You sigh as you finally push the denial and fear aside to see things more clearly. The water splashes around as you sit up from the tub, turning on the shower to rinse off. You get out, clean up and dry off while thinking what your next is move is going to be. From the looks of it you were right about Oscar’s pride. Either he isn’t making the first move or actually has decided that he is over you. Yet, here you are. On a mission to get him to talk to you.

There isn’t any hesitation this time. You don’t wait in your driveway before driving off nor do you pep talk yourself on your way there. It’s one of those moments that your ambition is so strong that you are diving head first.

And thank the heavens there are no Santos crowding the house. The red impala in the driveway and the dimly lit kitchen shows that he is home. Unless he had fine ass Leti pick him up. You shake the thought as you pull up the curb directly in front of the Diaz residence.

You step out and walk onto the sidewalk when your feet plants itself there. It’s then that you begin to think. What will you say to him? Why haven’t you been talking to me? What’s with you dipping to Vegas? Or ‘hey, in my 20 minute bathe I had before coming here I suddenly understood what you meant about thinking of other shit besides sex. And I also realize I let everyone’s image of you cloud my judgement before giving you a chance!’

You turn back and open the passenger side door, turning the ignition so that the car system is on. The glow of your phone hitting your face as you reach for the aux cord and connecting it.

“This is so stupid, this so fucking dumb. All or nothing, Y/N.”

As the music starts, you turn it up and stand up back on the sidewalk.

The instrumental starts playing to “The Story” by Sara Ramirez that was featured on one of your favorite shows, Grey’s Anatomy. The moon casting a glow onto the yard, the chilly air surrounding. It’s like out of the damn movies you swear are so cliche. The same ones you would gag at and promise yourself you wouldn’t let a guy ever do. And look at you now.

All of these lines across my face

Tell you the story of who I am

So many stories of where I been

And how I got to where I am

But these stories don’t mean anything

When you’ve got no one to tell them to

It’s true, I was made for you

“I know you’re home. I can see the lights on and your car is here... and I’ll stand out here until you come out and talk to me. All night if I have to. I know you wanna talk.”

You call out loud, leaning against your car and reaching through the open window to up turn the volume.

Oscar mutes the tv to make sure he’s hearing right. As you spoke, he stands from the couch and in place when he confirms it’s your voice he’s hearing. That’s when the soft music under your voice gets louder.

I climbed across the mountains tops

Swam all across the ocean blue

I crossed all the lines and I broke all the rules

But baby I broke them all for you

The music blares from outside. He rolls his eyes and stands by the front door for a moment as he listens. Fighting the urge to walk out, shut off the music and tell you to bounce. He is also fighting a grin that his face is forcing, hearing that sappy music. But the first urge wins.

You see the front door open and a visibly irritated Oscar descend down the small staircase. He strides over quickly, pulling you off from against the door and reaching in to hit the knob, turning off the stereo system.

Oscar stands and faces you. He doesn’t say anything looking at you with annoyance.

“I knew you were home.” You joke, a little smile peeking. He wipes his chin and huffs.

“What do you want?”

“To talk.”

He only shakes his head, “I said all I needed to when you were here earlier.”

The sounds you make makes him quirk an eyebrow and you untangle your arms that were across your chest, “You’re acting like your compas are around. Afraid someone is listening? Don’t want anyone to hear you talk about your feelings? Come, let’s go inside.”

You walk towards his house and welcome yourself in without him so much as a step behind you. He stands there as you did so, shaking his head and releasing a held in breath. Things are definitely not going how he imagined.

When he steps over the threhold, you’re sat on the couch and staring of towards the kitchen. The many times you were here and it for the first time feels like you’re out of place. Oscar clears his throat and sits on the chair across from you.

“Let’s talk.”

You lick your lips and look down at your hands then to him, “You’re mad I turned you down. That’s why you’re acting like this. And that’s fine. You acted out with the whole Vegas shit and that’s fine. I get it.”

“You get it?” Oscar leans forward to rest his arms on his knees, “I went to fuck another hyna barely a day after we talked and that’s fine to you?”

You swallow and shrug your shoulders, “Yeah. I’m not your ruca, like Joker said we’ve just been fucking, we didn’t make a rule that we can’t see others.”

Oscar laughs at himself, reading you before looking away and standing. He walks to the dining area grabbing the ashtray, lighting a joint before settling back in his seat.

“It didn’t tick you off one bit that I spent the weekend in Las Vegas with someone, not just someone but fine ass Leti? Ha, bullshit it’s fine.” He scoffs.

“I-it didnt. It doesn’t.”

Oscar’s face contorts to anger, brows furrowing and lips pressed together tightly before shouting out, “It should! It should bother you. Why would you come running back to the guy who treats you like that? That’s fucked up. You shouldn’t let no one treat you like that. Not me, not anyone.”

You inhale sharply, “Well I’m here! I’m here because you got me thinking now. You got me in my damn feelings. Because any other guy to pull what you did, I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t come running back, like you say. I didn’t plan to. After your little machismo stunt with the guys I thought, fuck um. Fuck all that. Then... all those stupid times when I could feel you smiling at me, when you claimed we were just fucking? How when I craved, when we craved each other when we weren’t fucking?”

You’re out of breath. Your chest heaving, as the tears has formed, your anger always summoned tears, it’s a weakness of yours.

“I started thinking and seeing all the things that you claimed you wanted with me. And then I finally broke the vision of you that everyone sees and I saw you, Oscar not Spooky. And then my little stupid heart told me to come tell you all this.”

Oscar has only felt like this with his little brother, Cesar. The feeling of pushing and fighting for something. And when he built the courage to tell you he wanted more, he felt it then too. But then everything else that happened afterwards broke that feeling. Until now, he feels it again. It feels like a warm feeling, in the pit of his stomach that spreading throughout his chest now. And you feel it too.

You two only stare at one another. The only thing between you is the coffee table. He leans back in his chair, when his cheeks lift in a small smile. Oscar keeps his eyes off you for a bit. He really thought you’d get more upset and storm off after he dragged the whole sleeping with someone else thing. But here you are, pushing and fighting.

“So what now? Hm, tell me what you want to happen now.”

Just as he did, you look away and feel your cheeks burn. The warm feeling assaulting your chest.

“I want to figure this out. I want to know why my gut is telling me to find out what’s here. And you’re right, I don’t deserve to be treated this way but... I want to be treated someone kind of way with you.”

Oscar nods, blinking slowly and peering at you as you stand. You walk over and swing your leg across his lap to sit. His hands automatically reaching your waist, sliding up your back and down.

“Tell me you want that too.”

Oscar nods as your faces are mere inches apart. The space growing smaller and the warm feeling intensifying.

When your lips connect and it’s that moment you hear in those stories, the ones when the guys come home from the war to their gals, it’s bliss. The kiss isn’t needy, it isn’t I want you so bad but I want you. You two aren’t fighting for dominance. You aren’t trying to rip each other’s clothes off like you usually would in this situation.

After a few moments of kissing, you pull back and rest your forehead against his. Shallows breaths while keeping your eyes closed.

“So where do we start?” You ask him. He chuckles as you lean back, hands interlocked at the back of his neck.

“Dinner tomorrow. I’m gonna cook for you, get to know each other. Let’s start there.”

Tags:

@clemmingstylins0n @fairygardenss @firebenderwolf @spookysnena @princesstiffxoxo

#on my block #on my block imagine #spooky #spooky x reader #omb #spooky diaz #oscar spooky diaz #oscar diaz #oscar diaz imagine #oscar diaz x y/n #oscar diaz x reader #spookysmujer

475 notes · View notes

mingi-bubu · 2 years

Text

the uhhh band winner guy is performing the song he won with rn

given how deep his speaking voice is, i am so so shocked at how his falsetto can go so high like. damn good vocal training for him

v chill song but not my style

next songyeah i am. not a kballad/folk music person but his voice is nice. his guitar playing is also v nice! i would probably listen to him if he was on an autmn or spring playlist i think. OH HELL YEAH STRINGSE LETS GOOOOOOO

if i fall asleep, at least this rainbow song is a peaceful choice

OH1!! I KNOW WHAT HIS MUSIC REMINDS ME OF

like the 60s/70s classic rock genre. its super similar to stuff ive heard from that era. i would be interested in finding out if that’s where he draws his inspiration from bc to me at least i think it would make sense. his hair is pretty, ‘s just a side note aldkfj;sldkjf

yeah idrc about the voting since it’s all super fake anyways

LETS GOOOOO AOTY WHO IS IT WHO IS IT

i dont think theyre gonna tell us rn tho right? seems a bit early doors imo

oh damn 26k wow

bts right? it’s probably bts album no? butter or whatever it was?

oh they really are announcing aoty now wowowowow

hey add cho jungseok to my fancast bc him and xiumin could sooo be brothers in a show i would believe it

oooh he’s hospital playlist man! i like him!!!

i like that hes explaining how an album works. genuinely think that thats kinda hilarious

c’mon i wanna know the nominees bc i stayed away from all of that

aespa savage, bts be (that came out this year??), iu lilac, NCT 127 STICKER LETS GOOOOOOO, dreamies w/hot sauce

please god let it be sticker please i want it i want it i want it

sticker pleaseeee

it’s probably bts. yeah. not surprised. lmao arent they in the us or smth rn?

they arent even there to recieve the award.

limitless challenges?

oh. o h. h i m

jung jihoon. wow...

no livestream don’t freeze ur so sexy aha

what was reckless?? well. okay guess i’ll never know :/

is he just talking about the plague and how kpop became popular? i mean yeah thats AWW THATS CUTE!! idc idc i love it when the fans are thanked fight me about it

oh wow it was even overlooked in korea?? incredible how things occur

i ddon’t think i’ll ever understand fashion. the man is just covered in all pockets. like. cargo shorts but make it black.

oh cool another guy appeared. beanie boy and pocket man. love their vibes. hate how pocket man has to cover up so many tattoos like just leave it beeeee

oooh ring of fire thats fun!

oh my god i am so upset that i am falling asleep rn. last year my sleep habits were so fucked up i was totally fine but this year i decided to not be a fucking gremlin out of under a rock and now i’m facing the consequences

i really don’t pay attention to things huh. i had no idea some of these things existed. its cool that these shows have brought greater awareness to the genre in soukor

once again have no idea who these people are but they look like theyre having fun so thats good :D

my laptop is burning my legs D:

the irony in me biasing rappers in idol groups but not knowing a single person on the stage

i think my brother would really like this tho this seems like his style of music

oh pink shirt and leather jacket guy looks familar

lmaooooo their dances are so funny its really cute its exactly how i dance too adlf;kjs;dlj

oh a lady appears!!

shes really fucking good holy shit

i want to give her my hand in the marriage action

oh this sounds soooo 90s i love it

yeah i deffo have to show my lil bro this performance it really is a good way to point out the way hiphop and rap have evolved musically since all of the different artists have different styles

i am now wide awake again

wow they put a lot of effort into the lights here huh

NCT NCT NCT NCT NCJT;AJRWFAIH SHOTAROOOOOOOOO

a;lksdfjkasd haechannieee

SOOBIN ASL;DKFJAS GOD HE SO HOT FUCK

i do not see mingi and the mullet

awweehhh jeongin is s’cuteee

wANNNA ONEEE OMG OMGOMGOMGOJGAOSIDJFPAOWIE

I CANT BELIEVE IT OMGGG

ATEEZ????

doraemon san <333

wadskllfjsd his helmet matches his hair

MINGMGINGIMGINGIGMIGJGINGMIGNIGMIGNAIDFHAPIUWEHFPAUIGH MINGMIGNIGMIGNIMGINMGINGIII I AM KISSING HIM I AM ISSING HIM OH MY GOGIAHSDFPOIHE FAI LOVE HIM SO MCUH I LOVE HIM AKL;SDFJAWKEJFAOI FUCK

deadass i didnt process yunho in there until the end my bad sorry jiejie

adfkas;djf;ase yeosangie is sooo funnny he really said delete your fucking emails babes

thats uh.... certainly a meal that exists.

a;lsdfkjsldkfj they really said matz <3

mingmgmigmimgingiasdfiohe mingimingimingimingi thoughts only

oh commercial time alright i’ll catch you all when its back then

#mama 2021 #jae.txt #jae.wwm

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hansolmates · 4 years

Text

vernon; blossomed (m)

feat. tattoo artist!vern x flower shop fem!reader based on nonnie’s big brain

genre/warnings: flangst, lang, wild generalizations of how tattooing works, gratuitous love for side characters, mild drinking, phineas and ferb references, mild foreplay

word count: 12k

Vernon called you his Rose.

Not exactly his Rose, because you were definitely not anyone’s property and he wanted to give you nothing but your full autonomy, but it’s because he’s never had the chance to ask for your real name.

But when he first spotted you in the little lavender and honey colored flower shop across the street, you were tending to the rose bushes at the front entrance. You were cutting roses and you didn’t look utterly graceful, in fact you stabbed yourself more than once with the thorns. He couldn’t help but laugh when you laughed when your co-worker had to hand you a new bandage every minute.

He decided then that he liked you, even if it’s not wholly sexual or romantic, he liked you.

Or maybe he just liked the idea of you, the way you’d lounge around in the canopy swing with your boots tucked under the seat, fluffy yellow socks wiggling out in the sun. Sometimes you’d read a book, sometimes for well over an hour. He liked how you soaked up the heat and created your own little world, happily unproductive.

It was only a seven meter walk from the flower shop to the tattoo parlor, but the view from his front window required zero walking distance and a sure-fire lack of ever bumping into you.

“Vernie’s got a crush on the Flower Girl,” Yoongi sing-songed, chugging along a box full of random-ass materials that Vernon was supposed to clean in the morning.

Vernon scowled, and swatted away the older one’s hand when it dived in front of his face.

Yoongi whistled like he was an old-time animation, singing the day away. “Vernie’s stalking his crush.”

“I’m not stalking,” Vernon snapped, swiveling around in his rolling chair. “that involves shit like literally following her around, photography, I dunno, being a weirdo?”

“You definitely qualify for one of those.” Yoongi replied tartly, and he fought the urge to grin when Vernon finally turned back to the window, only to narrowly miss your form. The swing was now unoccupied, the only thing remnant were your working boots lined up against the entrance. “It’s been what, two weeks? Just ask her out already.”

“You think I would’ve done that by now if there wasn’t a reason why?“

Soooo you were dating someone. Some super tall, super handsome guy would stroll up to the flower shop every morning, coffee in hand. Before you’d take your proffered coffee, he’d pucker his lips for a good-morning kiss in repayment. Vernon looked back to Yoongi, who was staring right back at him and confirming his suspicions that yes he was being a fucking weirdo for paying attention to things like that.

Yoongi pressed his lips together, puffing his cheeks out in slight irritation. “So you’re stalking a taken girl,” he whistled lowly, “should I regret hiring you?”

“Not funny.”

“As repayment for effectively creeping me out,” The older one slipped his hand into his electric yellow windbreaker to twirl Vernon a ring of keys. “You’re closin’ up for tonight.”

The brunette’s jaw dropped to his lap, and he got up from his spot by the window. “What? What happened to Minghao?”

“Sick,” Yoongi shrugged.

Closing up meant that Vernon had to stay until 12AM, at the very least. The area was off a college town and that meant a lot of young lucrative artists would stop by pretty late, hence the closing time. Usually Yoongi and Minghao were the night owls, but tonight Minghao was supposed to fly solo because Yoongi landed a last-minute recording gig. “C’mon, can I at least close early?” Vernon whined, “it’s summer. No one’s here.”

“What, ya gotta date or something?” Yoongi smirked, swinging the entrance open. Halfway out the door, he added loftily, “don’t forget to water Patricia. It’s been two weeks.”

The door slammed and Vernon was left alone. He spared a glance at the window, only to see that your boots were now gone from the patio and only one light was on in the shop. Vernon turned to his company for the night, their jade succulent, aptly named Patricia Planty.

With Patricia Planty watered and a stomach full of Wendy’s nuggets in his body, Vernon busied himself up for a grueling five hours. Thankfully he brought in his laptop, as if he were expecting Yoongi to pull a fast one on him tonight. He drew some random things on his tablet: rockets, stars, the occasional squirrel, and roses. When he was tired of drawing, he’d blast the speakers off the joint and mess around with some of his music programming. When he was tired of doing both, he’d vegetate on the couch and read Reddit articles.

It was past eleven when the first customer of the night stumbled in. Vernon fought the urge to groan, putting down the pen of his tablet on a particularly intricate constellation.

“We’re closed!” He yelled through the office door. A white lie, but who would know?

“Google said you were open until 12!” A voice yelled back, sounding slightly strained.

Crap. Vernon lowered the volume and pushed away the swivel chair, swinging the office door open. With a rough clear of his throat and hoping not to look like too much of a jerk, he faced his customer, “Welcome to Nu ABO—”

It was you. Cheeks ruddied, and your eyes glassed with a fresh glaze of tears. Your lower lip worried into a wobbly frown. Vernon’s Reebok’s glued to the concrete of the parlor, effectively stopping him in his tracks. The smell of mulch and a mixture of flowers penetrated his nostrils, but it did nothing to distract the utter hurt etched on your face.

“Um, hey,” his voice was gentle, yet unsure. “What are you doing here?”

You just looked at him, incredulous. Vernon could have sworn he saw your left eyebrow twitch. Of course, you’ve never met him in your entire life, yet Vernon felt like he knew you since the beginning of your summer work. “Gettin’ a tattoo.” You replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, rubbing away a stray tear.

He didn’t want to say it, but Vernon sighed and reasoned, “But it’s just that, ya kinda look—”

You brushed past him, going straight into the artist room and plopping on the worn leather chair meant for customers. It was still high up because Vernon was cleaning the underside of the metal, so you had to do a little hop to get on. “I don’t care what kind of design. I looked up your Yelp online and everything looked pretty good.” And you then proceeded to unbutton the top of your blouse.

“Holy shit,” he bounded over to you, grappling his fingers between your shirt before you could undo the rest of it. His breath was probably hot and heavy, compared to yours which was fresh from the cool summer air. Your faces were so close, closer than he ever fathomed. He didn’t think you two would meet this early in the year, as he was emotionally preparing to visit your flower shop at the end of the month, making up some spiel on how he needed to purchase real roses to replicate a commission. Not now. Now was a spontaneous episode, where he was trying to refasten your shirt and ignore the petal pink lace of your bra baiting his eyes.

When he sensed that you would in fact, stop taking your shirt off, he backed up. “It’s just that, after eleven we don’t really apply tattoos. We just take consultations.” He tried to sound defeated, rubbing the back of his neck. Again, another lie. But Vernon wasn’t about to ink you on the spot, especially when you looked like this.

“Is it because I’m upset?” You cried, “because I assure you, I’m in the right mind!”

He winced, lolling his head back and forth. “That’s debatable.”

You frowned, “C’mon, I have money. Just do me this one solid.”

“What? No, you don’t even know what you want!” Vernon was exasperated. Not that he imagined the first time meeting you would be a walk in the park, but at the same time he wasn’t expecting to argue with you.

"Don’t you want to be part of my spontaneous young life? Give me a tattoo that I’ll think about with my children 30 years from now?” He would laugh if you didn’t look like you were crying a river ten minutes ago. “As long as it’s not a tramp stamp, because I don’t think I can pull that off—"

"Did you break up with your boyfriend or something?” Vernon blurted out before he could regret it.

Your face morphed into something Vernon couldn’t understand. Pain, for sure. But a sort of relief knowing that you didn’t have to hide it. “Damn,” you give him a tired smile, “does the whole town know or something?"

You cried again. This time, Vernon reacted quicker. Pulling out a Wendy’s napkin from his flannel pocket, he proffered it to you. He was thankful you didn’t question whether it was clean or not (it was!) and you proceeded to cover your snot and tears all over it.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

You sniffled and blew a particularly large chunk of snot before you shook your head.

"Do you… want fries?” He gestured to the small table in the room, which had some leftover fries from his combo. “I can heat ‘em up in the microwave."

Due to the fact that you ran out of tissue room, you rubbed your face with the entirety of your sleeve. You peeked out mid-rub, and replied with a soft, "hell yeah I do."

His heart twitched. Even betwixt your teary expression, you were so freakin’ cute. He shuffled back to the office, nuking the leftovers in the microwave until they were piping hot. Vernon waited a bit for them to get cool, and fiddled with the music so a soft R&B playlist bounced off the walls. He couldn’t believe you were here. Scratch that, he could, because you were bound to run into him one day due to pure proximity.

But he didn’t imagine you’d be plopped in his artist room at 11:32, bleary eyed and shoving potatoes in your mouth.

Vernon busied himself with his phone, and typed a hasty you wouldn’t believe what just happened… to the employee group chat.

[June 11, 11:33PM]

Bo$$ man: dont tell me u put aluminum in the microwave AGAIN

Hao hao: the chinese mafia came for me, didnt they? good thing I called out

Jeonghan is a prick: use your resources! sharp items are everywhere :) emergency money is under Patricia’s table

Bernie: tf is wrong w all of you

Bernie: SHES HEREEEEEE

"M'sorry,” you mumbled with a mouthful of fries, breaking Vernon from his mid-text crisis. He felt his phone buzzing like hell as he shoved it in his pocket, but ignored it for the sake of you. Your previous high of emotions has long worn off, and now you were looking a little embarrassed as you fixed your gaze on the empty container of fries. Your face is blotchy and red, and you’re especially puffy due to the salt you just consumed. “I should go home."

He didn’t want to be intrusive, but the look on your face showed it was clear that you didn’t want to go home just yet. Drumming his fingers against the metal table, he casually suggested, "Why don’t I do your back?"

You looked at him like he was crazy. "You still wanna tattoo me? After I cried like an idiot and ate your fries?"

"You’re not an idiot for being upset. And I offered you my fries.” He pulled out an ink canister, and a thin needle. “This is temporary ink we use to practice, or for customers who wanna test out the look. Lasts one to two weeks. And y'know, it’s a nice distraction."

You looked skeptical, unsure of his kindness. "Why my back?"

He shrugged, "It’s the biggest canvas. And if you don’t like it, you don’t have to look at it."

Still, you’re not convinced. There was something strange about him, something almost too sweet. While your schema may be marred by television and movies, the man in front of you didn’t seem like he quite fit into this little shack. He’s full of color, in his eyes and in his stature, his words clean and pure as he tries to soothe your aching heart. And as much as you tried not to check him out, you spotted no tattoos on any viewable part of his body.

"And it’s kind of cathartic, really.” He watched your lips quirk up in a smile at the word usage. Not only sweet, but probably smart. Your first smile all night. Cheeks effortlessly heated, he continued, “you kinda just let go into the feeling. And it’s always fun to not know what’s been drawn until the very end."

You’re curious. There’s excitement in your vision as he gestured to the available cot, inviting you. "Alright. Ink me up."

Vernon grinned, and started preparing the workspace. Handing you a medical gown, he quickly shuffled away to prepare the ink and needles. He didn’t really work with the clients as deeply as this, he was really just a glorified secretary that took care of the consultation. While he washed his hands, he heard the faint rustle of fabric, definitely your shirt and bra. He turned up the temperature of the water, acutely aware of how hot his hands were getting.

"Um,” your voice is muffled from being pressed up against the cot, your face presumably propped with pillows. “So are you Yoongi?"

"Nah, I’m Vernon.” He wheeled over a cart full of supplies, the metal clanging against the concrete. “’M usually the guy who wipes the sweat off his brow."

You hummed your own name in response, resting your cheek in the plushness of the cotton pillow. There’s a number of sounds paired with the R&B in the background. The smack of Vernon putting on gloves, the click of the needles and the slickness of the balm Vernon has applied on your back. His touch was warm, as his palm crescents across your back to soothe the balm into your skin. He then wiped it down with a paper towel until your skin was smooth and dry.

"Any ideas yet?” He asked, and from the corner of your eye you see him switch out a needle for a new ink pen.

“Maybe, stars?” Your voice is muffled against the cushions, as you’re hugging them close to your body. “And maybe something inspired by Spiderman? I liked that new one with Miles, he’s a cool one."

You could hear the smile in his voice, "I liked that one, too."

You stuff your own smile in your pillow, how embarrassing could it be that this stranger can make you feel better so fast? Mingyu would be groveling if he saw you now, topless, letting a man ink you up in however way he wished. "Will it hurt?"

He chuckled at that, "Nah. The ink will sit on top and sink in, I barely have to apply any pressure. Just relax."

Under the discretion of Vernon, who offered you fries and liked Spiderman, you relaxed. The first stroke of the needle and you were a goner. You closed your eyes and let him do his thing, You couldn’t tell what exactly was going on through his mind as he was painting your back, but you could tell his art was rather cacophonous: stiff pokes here and there, smooth strokes, and wide breaths of ink staining your back. The ink melted into your skin, bonding to your cells under Vernon’s careful control.

It was almost 1AM when he finished. He tapped your back, urging you up. Tired, and slightly dazed, you sat up. You realized a little too late that you’re only wearing a thin hospital gown, the straps having fallen midway through the process. The air was cool against your skin.

Vernon totally would’ve gotten a complete view of your sideboob if he wasn’t blushing like a maniac and looking away, and you respected that. His arm is punched out, fisting your button down. You hastily snatched it away, and turned around in order to look decent.

“The ink won’t show up fully for another six hours, so until then let me know how you like it.”

“Thank you so much,” you smiled gratefully as you do the last button of your blouse, and pulled out your phone. “Do you accept Venmo or Cashapp?”

“Oh, yeah.” He accepted the proffered device, and put in the necessary charges.

Once he gave back your phone, you added a sizable tip to the price he typed up. “The time really flew by,” you noted the time on the corner of your phone, 1:07. “It was really, an experience like you said.”

He shrugged, and threw you an easy smile. “I try.”

"Can I get a real tattoo from you someday? Y'know, when I’m ready?"

"Ah, no. I’m not really under the apprenticeship.” He looked bashful when he said it, as if he were caught doing something wrong. “I just work here for the part time money. I do art on the side, though.”

You had the urge to ask what he doesn’t do on the side, but it was late and you were probably holding up the poor guy for your trivial questions. “Regardless, I’m still thankful it was you that did this for me.”

In three strides, he opened the small door for you. “My pleasure. Have a good night. Or, morning. Or if you’re one of those people who don’t consider it morning unless it’s light out, then good night?”

“Good night,” you giggled, “get home safely.”

“You too.”

The screen door slammed shut behind you, along with the main door. Your car is parked in the grass patching of the flower shop. You jogged over, and the summer air made you shiver, your back still raw and warm under Vernon’s touch.

You couldn’t wait until the flower shop closed.

If Wonwoo noticed that you moved the porch swing relative to the placement of Nu ABO, he hasn’t brought it up. You weren’t spying on Vernon, no. But your skin was starting to itch with curiosity and in your haste to leave last night, you didn’t even ask what he designed on your back.

“Are you stalking the tattoo guy?”

Despite the voice being petal soft, you flinched. Assistant Manager Joshua Hong with a bouquet of boat lilies, was accusing you of stalking. His Converse tapped rhythmically against the wood paneling, looking down at you like a guilty child.

“What?” you floundered, waving around the florist magazine in your hands. “Josh, I’m studying! And the sun was in my face so I moved the swing.”

“You’re studying,” Joshua flickered his eyes to the run down shack across the road. “The tattoo guy?”

“I already said I wasn’t!”

“Then you’re telling me you spent all last night doing that,” he reached over to tug at your starched work collar, “all by yourself?”

Your hand flew to your neck, as if you were trying to hide Vernon’s hard work. “I just wanna see what he did, all right? And I’m trying to be very patient until closing because if Wonwoo sees me going there,” you jerked a head none-too-gracefully at the direction of the parlor, “he’s gonna tell you-know-who.”

Joshua frowned, because he already knew. After all, he stayed in the back room with you all last night, wiping away your tears. “Well, whoever did it is truly an artist,” he said genuinely, “it’s beautiful.”

Joshua finally left you alone, and you suddenly felt emptier than before. Sure, the breakup with Mingyu was conventionally bad, but why were you so conflicted with your feelings? You didn’t want Mingyu to know you were hanging out with other guys, but you wanted to let go of him. Maybe you were trying too hard too fast.

But Vernon made everything so, so easy.

No, you are not letting him be a rebound. The inner conflict in your head was giving you a massive headache, you couldn’t tell if the vibes you were feeling last night were because of the recent breakup or just an authentic spark.

The storm door shuttered boldly, and you jumped. Wonwoo stepped out, and gave you a weird look. “You alright?”

“Me? Yeah, fine.” You gripped the collar of your shirt and pretended to fasten the buttons.

He was unconvinced, either that or the pinched look he was sporting was an indicator of a bad day. “Listen, I know things are gonna be weird because my best friend is your, y’know,” he trailed off, painfully trudging through this conversation as easily as trudging through quicksand. “He’s gonna stop by a couple more times during the week, doing me a few errands. So if you wanna take the week off, recalibrate before the the month ends, just let me know. ”

“Won, please,” you wanted this to end, “we don’t have to talk about this, alright?”

He awkwardly twirled around his car keys. “Alright.” As simple as that, he threw himself in his sedan and drove off, dirt brushing the pavement.

You glared at the dust cloud until his car was far from your sights, the mustard color blinding your vision. “Honestly,” you said to yourself, finally hopping off your swing into the direction of the shack, “he thinks I’m five and never experienced heartbreak.”

“Welcome to Nu ABO!” this voice was different, and you slowed your steps. It doesn’t quite have the husk that Vernon’s voice held, but definitely matched the energy. The boy stepped out, and his eyes sparkled in recognition. “Flower Girll,” he said to himself, and you suddenly felt like you got caught, “I don’t think we’ve met before.”

"We haven’t,” you replied warily at the pet name, “where’s Vernon?"

"Oh, he’s around.” The guy waved noncommittally to the air in the room, crouching his head to look down at you. He stuffed his hands in his black overalls, which covered a painfully bright rainbow tye-dye tee. “Curious to see Vern’s ink though. He’s only ever done small stuff.”

“I thought he wasn’t an apprentice.”

He flicked his wrist around to show you a beautiful line of Chinese calligraphy. "Keep the secret between us, ‘kay?” He winked.

“Minghao, leave her alone.” Vernon stepped out of the small bathroom hidden in the artist room, a white towel behind his neck. You took in his disheveled appearance. His face was red from washing his face, and he wore the same clothes from yesterday. “Hey.” He said.

“Hi,” you replied, “did you sleep here last night?"

"Uh, yeah.” Vernon rubbed at his neck again, and stuffed the towel in his backpack. “I usually do the morning and afternoon shifts, I covered for this guy last night,” he jabbed his fist in Minghao’s shoulder, “but still had to do my day shift.”

“So,” Minghao rocked back and forth in his boots, “why are you here?”

You suddenly felt self-conscious, and gripped your phone between your two palms. A little part of you was disappointed that Vernon was not alone, but another part of you was relieved. It helped slow down the pace of your feelings (feelings?) that was heading in a direction you were not anticipating. “I wanted to say thank you again for last night.” You coughed, and Minghao grinned wider at your explanation. “And I was wondering if you could take a picture of my back? I haven’t had a chance to look at it.”

He beamed, and you could tell he was happy that you wanted to document his work. “Oh, of course! I completely forgot last night.”

Vernon moved to grab your phone, but Minghao swiped a hand in front of him. “Can I take your photo?” He asked you, although the look in his eyes said that you didn’t have much of a choice.

Your cheeks burned at the sudden intrusion. “Huh?”

“I mean, have you seen this guy’s Insta?” Minghao scoffed, albeit playfully as Vernon mirrored your flush.

“What are you talking about?” Vernon exclaimed, thoroughly insulted, “my profile is tastefully abstract.”

“It looks like it was tastefully done by a three year old.” Minghao pulled out his iPhone, and adjusted the filters. “I’m doing you a favor here, Flower Girl.”

You looked warily at Vernon, who slumped in defeat, “If you’re going for that e-girl vibe, I guess Hao’s a better photographer.”

“Better than your pictures coming out blurry.” Minghao shot back, holding the camera to your face. “There’s no light in here,” Minghao glared at the singular window in their tiny studio, the sill decorated with a single jade succulent. “Got any ideas?"

Vernon shrugged, "You said I have the taste of a three year old, so."

With Wonwoo gone for the day, you realized that you did have an idea of where you could take a tasteful picture. The thrill excited and terrified you. You only wanted a simple picture to see what it looked like, but Minghao looked as equally as excited to see your ink. Maybe it was the fact that the art was fleeting or that Vernon was really that talented, but it encouraged you to offer the setting up.

"I think our greenhouse has plenty of light,” you gestured out the studio’s only window, which was in perfect view of the flower shop. “We should be closing up soon, so it’s free."

Minghao nodded approvingly, "We can try."

And with a hasty "be back @ 4:20!” sign taped on the front door to Nu ABO, the three of them walked across the street to the greenhouse.

You went in first, nearly bumping into Joshua who was bent over, pot in hand.

“Hey Josh,” you grabbed the keys from the front desk, “borrowing the greenhouse."

"Hey Josh,” Minghao and Vernon mimicked, who found it amusing that you just brushed by without an introduction.

You rolled your eyes, hearing them exchange pleasantries and bro fists. The plexiglass doors to the greenhouse unlocked with a turn of your key, the smell of heat and grassy rain hitting your nostrils. Joshua placed the pot somewhere, following suit as the boys were right behind you.

“Awesome,” Minghao exhaled, stepping further into the greenhouse. It was a small one, but comfortable enough for a couple patrons to browse around. “I’m gonna move around some plants if that’s okay, I gotta vision.”

Joshua looked a little frazzled watching Minghao talk to himself and start moving the settings around (“The hydrangeas don’t go there, are you crazy?”) and started helping Minghao move the pots and placements around. You and Vernon hung around the entrance, giggling to yourselves.

You tried to bump his shoulder, which didn’t even reach his. “So, what’s your Insta handle?”

He quirked his brows at that, “Why, so you can judge my aesthetic too?”

“No,” you replied, faking your shock. “I would never insult your taste!”

With a roll of his eyes he said, “Speaking of taste, since your shift is over and my shift is over,” Vernon rocked back and forth on his feet. “Wanna grab a bite?”

Something’s fluttering in your stomach, and you stomp it down. It’s an innocent invite, yes. Unfortunately it was not-so-innocent in your twisted mind knowing that you are still fresh from a breakup, yet your backed is marked with Vernon’s work. “You must be tired though,” you tried to reason, “you should get some rest, I don’t wanna bother you.”

“Not a bother,” he said immediately, “besides, I wanna ask you something.”

That got you curious. Before you had a chance to ask, Minghao was ushering you over, telling you to stand in front of a bundle of orchids. They’ve bloomed a Canary yellow, encasing you in a golden ring of flowers overlooking the terrace. The new friend has gestured for you to undo your shirt and he turned away in respect. It’s different with an audience and an expectation. You made haste to undo the buttons of your blouse, then your bra, throwing it aside. You felt the warm, moist air kiss your back, and you heard a low whistle coming from Minghao.

“Beautiful,” Minghao exhaled, “Vern, you’ve outdone yourself."

Beautiful. Vernon made you beautiful.

Your body was simmering, and you could do nothing as you let Minghao photograph you. You focused your eyes on a puddle dripping from a faucet in front of you, counting the seconds between each droplet.

“And, done.”

You shoved on your clothes, and felt extra awkward as you fumbled to reach for the straps of your bra. You nearly slipped on the puddle as you walked back to the boys, who were busy over Minghao’s shoulder.

“Super awesome,” Minghao handed you the phone brightly, “so much texture and feeling.”

The screen showed a halo of foliage that surrounded your bare back, blush orchids kissing the frame with color. Your work shirt bundled under your hips, and fell under your elbows to reveal a city sky. You were breathless, zooming in to capture every detail of the ink. A navy sky, blanketing buildings across your back in a diagonal, splaying from the bottom right to the top left. On the bottom, skyscrapers reaching for the stars.

If you zoomed in enough, you could tell that the stars were shaped like roses.

“I don’t know how many times I’ve said thank you in the past two days,” you started, causing Vernon to grin widely. “But thank you, I’ve never felt so beautiful.”

Vernon scoffed, “I didn’t do anything, I’ve only enhanced your beauty. That’s our shtick.”

You handed Minghao back your phone and thanked him. He then rushed off, saying he had to stay at the parlor since Yoongi was coming soon. Immediately, Joshua began putting back the plants in their rightful places. You and Vernon followed suit, starting with the smaller ones.

“So,” Vernon picked up a tray of succulents, “are we still on for dinner?”

Wide-eyed Joshua crept in-between the foliage, laughably appearing under a series of hanging plants like a madman. “Dinner?” he asked, looking between you two.

“Yeah man,” Vernon reached to pull Joshua away from the plants, “wanna come?”

Simultaneously disappointed and relieved, you let out a subconscious exhale. Joshua was coming, which meant that there would be no possibility for feeling weird (or catching feels), being awkward or fighting any oncoming feelings with Vernon.

"On Thursdays there’s this really good half-off sushi deal by my place. We can take out and eat at my apartment?” Joshua’s kindness was palpable at the offering of his home, and the both of you smiled gratefully.

Not more than two hours later, the three of you are bundled away in Joshua’s two-room, empty boxes of carryout stacked high. The television was playing reruns of Full House, the only source of light in the dim space.

“Are you gonna go home soon?” Vernon asked, and turned his head to the corner of the room. Joshua is cuddled up in the single couch, tucked in a wearable blanket with the armholes.

You shrugged, “I dunno. Usually I crash here for sushi nights,” you patted the couch lovingly, “This is my second bed.”

Vernon chuckled, tucking his feet under his thighs. It made him look impossibly small in comparison to how tall and lanky he actually was.

“So, what did you want to ask me?”

Vernon looked between his legs, as if he were trying to piece his words together. “Long story short, I got waitlisted at my top graduate school option,” he then pulled up his phone, revealing the picture of your back that was taken that afternoon, “but I was thinking that if I made a portfolio of this kind of art, it would really tip my application over the edge. Originally I was thinking of just sending my usual art, but it just popped in my head today while we were doing it.” He looked up through his eyelashes, wisps of copper looking expectantly at you. “If you’re comfortable with it, would you be my canvas?”

“Live art,” you surmised, “honestly, I’m honored that you would want me to be a part of something so big. You think I’m that good?”

No, you weren’t doubting Vernon’s art one bit. The fact that your back would be out on display for a bunch of strangers was unnerving, to say the least.

“Are you kidding?” Vernon zoomed out of the image, revealing the curve of your back and the generation of life reflected in the greenhouse. “This is wicked. You’re stunning. We’d make a great team!”

You felt your body heat at the statement. His presence was almost too refreshing, and you wanted to return the favor of helping you out last night.

“Lucky for you,” you shot a quick text to Wonwoo, “I’ve planned to take this week off.”

Over the course of the week Vernon wanted to do an artistic timeline of sorts, adding and retouching the already existing ink on your back until the canvas was full. It felt fulfilling, letting yourself become a vessel of success for someone. The following day, Vernon shot you a text revealing his portfolio, and said how excited he was to see you.

You met in the shack after his shift, and Vernon let you into the office and locked the door. You can hear the rap being played in the artist room where Minghao and Yoongi were working with a client.

The artist was muttering to himself as he invited you to sit at the couch. Something about whether he wanted to start from the “top-down” or “bottom-up.” Instead of contributing to his madness, you turned away from him and started shedding your shirt. Today was a plain cotton shirt, and you shucked it off and balled it in your arms.

No less than five seconds was Vernon’s hands on your back, and despite the warmth radiating from his fingertips, you couldn’t help but shiver. Vernon had explained that while he did a large portion of your back the first time, there was still room for growth and he wanted your back filled by the end of the week.

“Do you mind if I,” his hand hovered over your bra.

You shook your head, and with his thumb and forefinger he flicked off both your bra straps with ease. Your hands flooded themselves in the fabric of your t-shirt, which silently accepted your death grip.

“Sorry, do you feel weird?” He definitely sensed your lack of vocality, and put one strap back in case.

“I’m fine,” your voice is light, what else could you say?

“Whatever you say,” he hummed, and resumed his work.

You opt to take in the sounds. Minghao laughed about something in the other room, coupled with the zing of the needle. The music pulled to a stop and boomeranged back into a smoother arrangement.

“I think we’ll start from the bottom-up and build from there,” he then placed his hands around your waist, poking at the dive between your waist and your bottom.

There’s an unmistakable heat that pooled within you, which caused you to wring your shirt harder. It was going to be a long week.

By Wednesday, he was in your apartment, working on the sides of your waist. The day after every session, Vernon would take a picture of yesterday’s work and show it to you. A gummy grin would always take over his face, either proud of himself or happy that you loved the new addition.

Despite the fact that the only thing covering your body was a thin gown medical taken from the shop, every pore of your body felt unbelievably hot. You really shouldn’t be mixing alcohol on a Wednesday night, but Vernon was excited that he was halfway done with the project and it was time to be “poppin’ bottles.”

You felt a little drowsy as a result of that, but nothing terrible. Like he said, the feeling was cathartic.

“Aren’t you drunk too?” you murmured into your navy blue whale plush, “what if you accidentally stab me?”

Vernon laughed, and it shook the couch. You couldn’t see his face as he sat on the floor, getting in the crevices of your skin. He poked at your skin a little harder than usual, as if he were testing the possibility. “That’d still take a lot of strength.”

“You’d be surprised,” you sighed, “those little sticks florists use to keep the babies upright? Flat as a thumb and I still manage to impale tomatoes with them.” He doesn’t respond to that, and you’re left drowning in your own answer. You wondered if he truly thought you were a crazy tomato-killer, or was concentrated on detailing a particular patch of skin. “Can I tell you a secret?” you blurted, “honestly, I think flowers are beautiful, but I really hate working at the florist. The only reason I’m doing it is because Joshua really needed the help and he knew I wasn’t going to do shit until my city job starts in September.”

“Huh,” Vernon stopped, resting the heel of his hand on your back. “That’s funny. Explains all the cursing when you’re cutting roses outside.”

“You’ve watched me outside?” you grinned into your cushion, “creepy much?”

“Do you wanna know a secret?” Vernon blurted, evading your question with one of his own, “I’ve had the biggest crush on you since you came by in May.”

You tensed, and if Vernon noticed, he didn’t react. He kept on doing his business, marking your back with baby’s breath. It had to be the alcohol talking. If he drank at all, you couldn’t even tell because you couldn’t get up and he was strikingly coherent. All this time, and you didn’t even notice?

“You don’t have to answer,” he said, as if he knew you were strung speechless. “I just, wanted to say it. We’re cool.”

And you agreed, pretending to fall asleep.

Friday was around the corner before you knew it, and Vernon wanted to photograph the final piece where it all started. The greenhouse was devoid of human life at the crack of dawn, unless you counted Joshua who was asleep on the counter because he was the only one with a key that knew of your recent escapades with Vernon.

Vernon was just as tired as you are, but he was adamant about having the photo taken at dawn, as the first picture was taken in the late day. There was some contrived symbolism attached to it that you didn’t really understand, but you trusted his vision. Besides, your panda eyes wouldn’t be revealed in the photo, so you could master the art of sleeping upright while he took photos.

“Alright,” Vernon set up his camera. He was dressed in a university zip up and matching sweatpants, like he just rolled out of bed. “Everything’s set up, whenever you’re ready.”

Likewise with you, and you pulled off your hoodie, not bothering with a bra. Despite the fact that the room was temperature controlled, the cold morning air still managed to worm its way to your bare top. You quickly rubbed down your gooseflesh with your palms.

You two engaged in a comfortable silence as you tested out your poses and he adjusted his frame. After a couple of practice shots, the air seemed calmer.

“Cold?” Vernon asked casually.

“Anything that isn’t under the sheets of my bed is cold as hell,” you muttered, trailing your fingers delicately across your waist.

“That’s a nice pose,” Vernon said to himself, “we’re almost done. Then you can go to bed for the rest of your day. Unless you’re down for breakfast?"

You two still haven’t spoken about his little confession the other day, but in all honesty there was no reason to bring it up. Your lives were going in different directions, and you knew Vernon deserved more than a halfhearted summer fling.

"I think I’m down for bed and breakfast,” you replied wryly.

“Smart girl,” Vernon chuckled, “can you change your pose for me? Like, pretend that you’re stretching.”

You didn’t understand what he meant by that, so you ended up flexing your arms in different directions.

“No, we’re not doing yoga.” He let his camera swing around his neck as he rushed over to you. The sun was a soft white, the antithesis of golden hour as you two rushed to make the magic happen. He grabbed your arms from behind, twisting the left wris in an unusual angle.

"Ah, Vernon!” You jerked around to face him, now fully awake. “I’m not a Barbie doll, you can’t just move me like that."

Vernon doesn’t respond. He let go of you as soon as you screamed, eyes blown wide and pupils a thick black. His stare is frozen to yours, and his hand is in mid-air, a centimeter away from your bare breasts.

"Oh,” you said, “did I whack you with my boob when I turned?"

"Yeah, you boobed me.” Vernon looked afraid to stare anywhere but your face. “I’m so sorry."

"It’s okay,” you bit the inside of your lip, “I don’t mind if you touch me there."

Now, Vernon looked terrified.

It’s been a long week. A long, surreal week. You wanted to tell Vernon about your conflicted feelings, you wanted to ask about his little crush, and what on earth did he find appealing about you. You wanted to tell him how much you trusted him with your body, and how you wanted him to do more to you than just ink.

It’s then, the gaping boy shook himself together. His hands encircled your neck, haloing at the finishing piece of his work, an echelon moon. Vernon’s fingers trailed to cup your face, and you felt your whole body warm in anticipation. Patient, you waited for his carmine eyes to flutter shut, and you smiled, finally closing yours—

"The fuck is this?"

In an instant, the air was sucked out of you like a blackhole, and Vernon immediately shielded you, throwing his jacket across you like a towel.

"Mingyu,” you said shakily, clutching the cotton coat tighter around your form.

It’s then that a no-longer bleary-eyed Joshua stumbled into the greenhouse, seconds too late.

Mingyu threw down the sack of fertilizer he hauled on his back, black dirt smattering the floor. “Its been barely a week and you’re fucking someone in the greenhouse, of all places?” Mingyu was angry, plain and simple. “I thought we agreed on a break."

"You agreed on a break,” your thighs were numb from leaning on them, but Vernon’s hand on your back encouraged you to get on your feet. “I agreed that two years was too long to wait."

"And who are you?” Mingyu squinted his eyes at Vernon.

“He’s none of your business,” you stepped in front of him, tugging his hoodie closer around your frame.

Mingyu’s face fell in realization, and he looked between you two with forlornness that made your stomach churn. “C’mon baby,” your nails embedded themselves in your palm at the jab, “can we go outside and talk about this?”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” your voice was paper thin, but loud enough for Mingyu to hear across the room, “I’d prefer you leave us alone, and do not talk to me ever again.”

It took all your composure to turn around, and you glared a hole into Vernon’s chest. You felt your body bleed goosebumps around your arms and legs, not out of weather, but out of anxiety. You hugged yourself to shut the prickly feeling down. You heard Joshua do the only helpful thing this morning and it’s his soft utterances that finally pulled Mingyu out of the greenhouse. ,

What’s left is the drip of the hose, and the two of you, unmoved.

Thankful for the silence, you looked up at your companion, who was speechless. Vernon’s lower lip was puckered out slightly, face contorted as if to say I’m sorry, that kinda sucked. The tell-tale signs of emotional overload began to prick at your eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” you wiped your face. Since when did you start crying? “I’m so sorry that I let all of this happen, and I let myself let this happen, and I’m such a mess and I’ve been trying to hide it all this time, but I’m selfish and I just wanted to see what would turn out of it.”

“What are you apologizing for?” Vernon tried to lighten up the mood, and offered you an easy smile and reached for a hug.

“I’m sorry because I don’t know if I like you or not!” you outburst, and pushed him out of arm’s reach. “I feel so fucking guilty I just got out of a relationship and I can’t tell if I like you or I like your attention, honestly. And it isn’t fair because you’re just so sweet and kind and easy to love. Either way at the end of the summer I’m moving into the city for my full-time job. And I, I, I don’t know!”

Vernon forced his way into your space, barely a foot apart. He didn’t touch you, but his warmth still emanated from the jacket you were wearing. He didn’t seem upset, then again you were probably upset enough for the both of you.

“Hey, I offered to do your back because I knew you needed a distraction,” Vernon said softly, “no strings attached, ever. You do you, right? Focus on yourself.”

You wished he was mean about this. It would’ve made it easier. “What if this is the last time we talk? What if I want to ignore you for the rest of the summer?” you murmured, already knowing you. should enjoy these final moments.

“We’ll live,” he shrugged, and finally broke the space between you. His lips planted themselves between your forehead, melting away the lines that marred your brows apart, “and we’ll heal.”

The city was daring. The city was unforgiving.

You tugged your scarf closer around your neck, which constricted your airflow but also prevented any possible windchill from slicing your neck. In your other hand you were hauling a week’s worth of work in a luggage that had once packed your things in August and sent you to this very career path.

As much as you loved your new life, you wished things would be a little more boundless. The box of your workspace, the box of the elevator, and the box of your goshiwon apartment were starting to feel particularly stifling this weekend.

It was Friday (or FriYay, as your co-workers dubbed) and that meant a weekend vegging out with a comfort meal and a new movie. There was a Burger King and a Gongcha under your apartment complex, both calling your name.

Boba and burgers, the perfect way to end a week.

You munched on your fries as you scanned the Gongcha menu, craving something sweet to contrast with your salty meal.

It is then a low, sultry whisper sauntered in your direction (in a Gongcha, with children) and you almost choked on your fry. “I would know that back anywhere,” the offender drawled.

What a strange pick-up line. The paper bag crinkled in your grip, and you turn around to see a familiar perky face in a scarlet Adidas tracksuit. Of all the places, he was here.

“Hey, Flower Girl.” Minghao greeted, wiggling his fingers in a wave. He was on a tall stool, long legs splayed out and a cup of oolong milk tea hung lazily in his grip. His cup was at least 50% ice, and he was shaking the cup like a rattle every ten seconds.

“Normally, people would start with a simple hello,” you replied wryly, ushering him over to wait with you in line.

“Normally,” Minghao shrugged, and slipped an arm around your shoulders as if you were long lost friends, “how have you been doing? Planting gardens for the spring?”

“Please,” you scoffed. To Joshua and Wonwoo’s chagrin, you’ve forgotten a lot since the summer. “I can’t even make a corsage anymore, my brain’s on overload. What about you?”

It looked like he was waiting for you to ask that. You barely got your order in before he started spitting out his story. “Didn’t you hear?” Obviously you didn’t, and he didn’t give you a chance to answer. “Two letters. RM.” Again, nothing. “The RM? The hottest rapper in Korea? Anyway, he was one of our clients in August—he got a sick design of a koala and an alpaca, cooler than you think—and gave us a massive tip on his Instagram story. We were famous overnight! We were getting crazy clients left and right—fuckin’ Sana wanted a little heart on her sternum, hottest thing.”

“So you were able to relocate the parlor to the city?”

“The big push was when Yoongi dropped RM his demo,” he shook his cup furiously, ice clanging, as if he never got tired of this story. “Like, I didn’t even know they were texting! I’ve been running the parlor mostly, I’ve always wanted to live in the city, but RM funded a lot of it and is helping Yoongi make his mix.”

In the back of your head, the question of an aspiring grad student was niggling in your brain, but you pushed it down. “So, if Yoongi’s working on his demo and you’re supposed to be running the parlor, why aren’t you there now?” you asked.

He stared at you as if it were the most obvious choice. “Because I’m here, drinking boba with you.” Minghao then grabbed your finished drink from the employee’s hand, ushering you out the door. “And now you’re going to follow me, because my break was over fifteen minutes ago.”

“What?”

“I have your boba,” he’s already out the door, waving your precious beverage like a fish to its line. “Hurry up, now I’m sixteen minutes late!”

You groaned, lugging your suitcase full of work and now cold french fries back into the freezing weather. The wheels of your suitcase are cracking in exhaustion, mirroring yours. You just wanted your damn milk tea, hot fries, and a Netflix catch-up. What was the point of following Minghao to Nu ABO, when there was no reason to be there other than …

“Oof!” your face slammed into Minghao’s back. The light was red. “Did Vernon move here too?”

“Duh, who else would be covering for me?”

“You’re trying to set me up!” You cried in betrayal, jabbing him in chest with your finger. “Y'know what, I’m just going to get another boba. You keep that.”

You two glared at each other. Minghao looked relentless, ignoring whoever was bumping into him on the streets. His eyes suddenly glinted to your rolling luggage, and he snatched it from your grip, running into the streets.

“Can’t replace your work, right?” He laughed, forcing you to chase him down the block.

You felt sweat start to develop on your back, contrasting with the icy weather. Your work blazer and pinstripe loafers were not suited for vigorous activity. Minghao has an unfair advantage, being tall and athletic, and you had just finished half a bag of Burger King. Damn him.

Minghao stopped in front of a sunken in building, with stairs leading downwards to a neon-lit parlor with the name glittering in electric periwinkle font. Flustered, you gasp at the cold air, finally able to stop. Despite having lost your breath ten meters ago, you managed to tell Minghao you’re proud that they have a real parlor.

Your heart was beating in your ears, and you can’t tell whether it was because you haven’t worked out in months, or because Vernon was behind that door.

Minghao dumped your luggage behind the reception area, and went straight into the artist room. This new parlor was much bigger, so when Minghao disappeared into a hallway he was out of your sight. You wait around, letting yourself sink into the familiar hip hop playlist. There are pictures littering the walls, all covered with a clean black frame. You see Yoongi and the supposed RM, sporting his koala and alpaca ink (which actually did look sick) and some photos of Minghao’s work, all of his designs being simultaneously colorful and graceful.

It’s then in the epicenter of this wall is a long black frame that cut across the horizon, seven images of a woman with flowers and stars inking her back.

Your back.

“Beautiful, right? I’m sure it takes you back.” Minghao was over your shoulder, flicking his fingers between the photos. “Lots of customers have requested these designs. He never makes them the same way, though.”

Instead of answering, you followed Minghao down the hallway and into the artist room. Vernon had just finished with a client. Poking in head first, you saw him ticking off protocol off a printed list, speaking concisely. The client was listening intently, and you see he has an arm sleeve with peonies. It’s then he noticed Minghao intruding once more, and frowned.

“Dude, you got milk tea without me?” Vernon said, affronted.

“Ya didn’t ask.” Minghao vigorously shook the ice in your tea like a baby rattle.

“You didn’t mention it, therefore I couldn’t have asked.”

“You’re so smart, Hannie,” he beamed at him like a proud parent complimenting his son, “that’s why he’s going to grad school.”

You let yourself in fully, and you felt shy as Vernon’s lips parted slightly upon realizing who his second guest was.

“Hey,” Vernon exhaled, and gave you a small smile. He looked happy, content. As handsome as ever, he ran a gloved hand through his hair, soft curls bouncing as he shifted around the parting. “This is uh, a surprise.” his eyes flickered to Minghao, who held his arms out in a passive shrug. “A good one to end the week.”

“Hi,” you bit your lip, feeling shy, “so, you decided to get certified and you’re going to grad school? I missed out on a lot.”

“That’s okay, we got time.” Vernon assured, “besides the fact that I got a project due tomorrow morning that I’ve barely started, and then I have a field trip I gotta go to on Sunday—”

Before it could drag on any longer, Minghao hacked out a very loud, and very fake cough. You broke out of the rêve, and muttered a “gimmie that” before snatching your precious bubble tea out of Minghao’s hand.

Vernon mirrored the cough, more out of embarrassment than annoyance. “Lemme finish up with this client, yeah?” And he jerked his head back to the patient, going on about safety.

Minghao led you out of the room, whispering a “you’re welcome” in your ear that taunted you for the rest of the night.

Vernon finished at 5, just like he did back in the little shack at university square. He came out in a 2XL neon green hoodie, leading the client out the door and telling him to “take it easy”. As soon as the client’s gone, he comes over to you. You’re still staring at your pictures, as if you couldn’t believe that you were on display, looking like a tasteful nude model.

“Hi again,” he said, dusting the imaginary dirt off his pants.

“Hi,” you replied, feeling tingly at the sound of his voice. Did you really miss him that much?

"Um, is it cool if I hug you?"

It certainly has been awhile. You nodded, unsure if you could form a coherent response because you could tell Vernon was blushing and he was being too damn adorable for you to handle.

Upon permission, he brightened. The warmth of his cotton hoodie enveloped you like the way hot chocolate feels after a cold day. You breathed in his scent, realizing how much you missed the scent of fresh laundry, especially on him.

"How are you?” He asked casually.

“Uh, m'okay.” You answered softly, “a little cold nowadays."

He hugged you tighter in response. With one more squeeze he let himself go, but kept you at an arm’s length. "Wanna get dinner?"

You looked at him funny, "didn’t you say you had a project due tomorrow morning that you haven’t started?"

Without missing a beat he altered, "Wanna get takeout? I’ll do work and eat while,” his eyes darted to your luggage, “you do work?"

While you wanted to say that it was Friday (FriYay!) and you weren’t planning to open Pandora’s Box until Sunday night, you obliged and followed him to his place.

On the way over, Vernon got his well-needed milk tea (and your second round) with two matching cartons of jajangmyeon. You trailed behind him rather than next to him, due to the fact that he was also lugging a Joshua-sized canvas on his back. In fear of being knocked out or ruining his work, you settled for walking a meter apart.

Vernon lived on the second floor of his complex. You imagined a sizable one-room similar to your goshiwon, but you’re in awe when you see a fully furnished living room and kitchen. You smiled at the singular jade plant decorating the windowsill, one you remembered as Patricia Planty one session months ago. The hardwood was so shiny you could see your reflection in them. Kicking off your shoes, you stumbled over the kitchen countertop, reveling at the onyx granite.

"I’ve never seen this much granite in my entire life!” You cried, spreading your hands over the cool rock. It was so well polished, you could see your reflection. He was certainly living the high life this year.

Vernon shook his head, setting the take out down and pulling out the containers. “It’s RM’s old place. I rent it out with the guys."

"God, this is ten times better than my place! Your kitchen is bigger than my apartment!"

He flicked your bowl of jajangmyeon over to your side of the countertop, the sauce and noodles premixed for you. "Eat up, babe.” He stuffed a radish in his mouth, now working to mix his own noodles, “we got a lotta catchin’ up to do."

Whether it was your hunger or the casual use of the word "babe”, you abandoned the granite for now and did as told.

An hour later, you’re flipping through their mounted TV, taking full advantage of their Disney+ subscription as Vernon is laying on the floor.

“I thought you were working,” you chastised, letting yourself sink further into their couch. It was like resting on a big, fluffy marshmallow. You never wanted to leave.

Vernon is splayed out like a starfish, papers and watercolors spread around him. His large body stood out against the white linoleum floor, his neon green hoodie reflecting on the shiny surface. “I am.” he replied blandly, “I’m waiting for lightning to hit me with a burst of inspiration."

"Grad school’s biting you in the butt?"

"Big time."

Another bout of silence hit the two of you, and it was surprisingly nice. You finally started to notice that Vernon is picking up some art utensils and is doodling something. (He still is on the floor and hasn’t sat up properly, but progress is progress.)

It felt oddly domestic, but you didn’t mind. There was no need to ask about the past, Kim Mingyu, or any other silly drama you two entrapped yourselves into last summer. What mattered now was the warmth of each other’s presence on this chilly night.

Your eyes are heavy and fighting against the long day, and before you know it, you’re asleep just as Rapunzel escapes Gothel’s tower.

You haven’t awoken to the morning sun in a long, long time. While the notion sounded awfully depressing (because it was), you really didn’t have much of a choice because the goshiwon was closet sized, and closets had no windows. But today, the sun blasted you, forcing you up. This was accompanied by the the tell-tale sounds of breakfast, which was weird because you only ever ate cold food in your room, because there was zero ventilation. The scent of dark roast muddled your senses, forcing you awake. You twitched at the sudden stench, and snapped your back straight. Were your walls always this pristine white?

"Didn’t know you were this early in the game, Flower Girl."

You never went home. While Vernon was long gone and probably off presenting some haphazard art, Minghao and Yoongi (for the first time, in the flesh!) were watching you from their marbled island, while you rubbed the crusties out of your eyes. "Usually, encroaching on a significant other’s apartment is reserved for the 5th or 6th date.” Minghao teased, waving his Nutella toast in your face.

“Oh, shut up,” you glared at Yoongi, who was slowly chewing on his own toast. There’s was black spark in his eyes, like he’s relishing on whatever has unfolded. “And you, you. I know this is the first time we’ve met and you haven’t said a word. But shut up too. Your thoughts are awfully loud.”

You’re embarrassed, and you pull up your hands to mediate your fired cheeks. Instead of your palms, you feel worn cotton dabbing at your face. You wiggled your fingers under the neon green hoodie. Vernon put on his clothes for you to wear. You were in a very uncompromising position, and his roommates were reveling every second of it.

Yoongi shrugged, throwing you a flippant grin. “Whatever you say, Flower Girl.”

Contact emerged in the form of texts and images. You wondered how Vernon managed to keep things casual in light of how sudden your meeting was, but you relished in the way things fell naturally.

[February 19, 2:10PM]

Vern: Is this still your number

Vern: If so, here’s what i submitted for my project

Vern: IMG.934

Vern: if not, pls enjoy this picture of a pink platypus. the medium was watercolor nd if you’re curious, i got the idea from sunsets and phineas and ferb. Enjoy your day

You: hey look, there’s perry

Vern: nice

Vern: wait, this doesn’t confirm if ur u or a stranger

Vern: are u just a perry enthusiast

Vern: evidence pls

[February 19th, 6:08PM]

You: IMG.48

[February 20th, 12:22AM]

Vern: ooh

Vern: look cute in my hoodie

You’ve toggled with the idea of just cutting straight through the bush and asking him out the next time you see him in person. A little part of you liked the chase, however. That feeling where you’re tugging between friendship and something more, and you can’t help but feel like you’re fifteen everytime his name popped up in your messages. You self-dubbed it the-honeymoon-to-the-honeymoon phase.

[February 27, 5:34PM]

Vern: what are you up to

You: it’s hour 32. I’ve been under the covers and have survived solely on celery and honey-butter chips. currently binging all netflix comedies. debating on whether to send for help otherwise i may never get up

Vern: that’s the spirit

By the time two weeks passed, you felt confident enough to ride off the mutually weird text messages and constant contact to meet with him. By then, you’re knees deep in the honeymoon-to-the-honeymoon phase. You’re languidly floating in that river, hoping you’re not rushing it by agitating the waters.

[March 8th, 10:10PM]

You: hey

You: you up?

Vern: nah. mastered the art of sleep textin

You: just wanted to ask if you could help me pick out a tatt that would fit me

You: if you were available. I’ve heard from the mullet-monster that you’re a hot commodity drowning in appts and deadlines

Vern: wait forreal?

Vern: i can pencil u in. tomorrow night @11?

You: so soon? What happened to being busy

Vern: not for u. Already have an idea in mind

By the time you arrived Saturday night, Minghao was slapping your back across the door, gabbing on about a “major banger” they were missing uptown. He looked the part, the only person you knew that could fill out an all-studded denim fit. Like a disco ball at a rodeo. He barely said good-bye before he hopped in a Lyft, cheering for freedom.

You poked your head into the artist room, and saw Vernon playing on his phone. His fist dug into his cheek, carob pupils glazed over. You almost felt bad for wanting his attention this late.

“You usually do the day shift,” you commented quietly, holding up a bag with two milk teas in hand.

Vernon looked up, illuminating in a half-smile. “Y’know me, always covering. Just for the hour though, this shouldn’t take long since we’re just looking at ideas.”

He slapped a hand on the client chair. This one was much better than the cot they had in their shack. This one was pure leather and gleamed high quality. You placed your drinks on the countertop and eagerly bounced onto the seat. “Comfy,” you murmured, and wriggled your sneaker-clad feet.

“Good,” there’s a sharp snap from the plastic seal and Vernon is sipping into his milk tea seconds after you put it down. He’s chewing on a particularly large gulp, gnawing on pearls like no one’s business. With his rolling chair, he slid over to you, seamlessly reaching for your wrist.

If he noticed that you’re wearing a particular neon item, he doesn’t comment. He turned on the overhead lamp, letting a soft white light bathe your form. When he finally spoke, he chanted your name in a sing-song, tapping your wrist in beat. It’s as if he were envisioning the color blooming on your skin.

You let him do his thing, and he pulled out his phone, scrolling through his gallery. You see pictures of his friends, some of his family, and digital art. He scrolled slower at the myriad of images: a colorful orca, lavender constellations, and budding roses.

You were seeing a lot of flowers nowadays, with the burgeoning of spring and the recent ending of Valentine’s. It’s only now that you notice how apparent the theme is throughout the parlor, particularly in Vernon’s affinity.

“Why don’t you call me it?” you asked softly, peering over his form to see him mulled over a picture of periwinkle lupines.

“Huh,” he’s distracted, and has now swiped back to the colorful orca image.

“Flower Girl,” you uttered, “they call me that, but you don’t.”

Vernon clicked his phone down, the lupines flicked away. He peered at you through his lashes, the white overhead making his eyes appreciably bright. “Before I knew your name,” he started slow, making faces to himself as if he were debating on whether to tell you, “I’d call you Rose. You were always by the rose bush planted outside the shop.”

“Avoiding work,” you crinkled your nose, however relished in the endearment, “being named after a rose is too big a compliment.”

He snorted, “That’s what they said. Hence, Flower Girl was born,” he’s easy about it, but now he’s put his phone down and is rubbing circles in your wrist. You wonder if he felt how clammy your palms were getting from the minute intimacy.

“You know what flower I’d compare to you?” you asked, “freesias.”

“And what do those mean?”

“Thoughtfulness,” the pad of his thumb still lingered on your skin, his grip painfully apparent. “And renewal.”

“Why renewal?”

“Because,” you swallowed, “you make me feel renewed. And this time I’m sure it’s because it’s you.”

Vernon looked like he wanted to smile, trying so very hard not to embarass you whilst you poured your heart out with delicacy. His coral lips were tucked in a thin line, teeth biting at his lower lip. Drop by drop, he was going to accept that dew with as much care as possible. “Only me,” he inquired, pressing into your pulse.

Your mouth was sand dry. “Uh-huh.” You exhaled a breath long clutched in your throat, hot air fanning into Vernon’s face. He paid no mind, and (to no avail) was still trying to hold in his smile. “You’re dimples are showing,” you whined, poking the little dip in his cheeks with your free hand. “Use your words.”

“Like?” he elongated, playing dumb. You supposed you earned his brand of torture, after all, seven months is a long time to make up for.

“Like how we want the same thing?” you tried.

“How do you know I want what you want?” he feigned, furrowing his thick brows. Acting could’ve been another career possibility for him, portrayed by the way his eyes were blown with confusion, his mouth parted like a kitten.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! Forget words!” you broke, nearly shaking from the nerves.

It’s then that Vernon finally gave you a concrete response. His grip on your wrist was near painful as he eagerly tugged you closer, kissing you. There’s enthusiasm in every action from the way he pulled you closer, large hands melding to cup your cheeks. A little part of you is both breathless and invigorated at the energy stinging the room, and you can barely keep up until Vernon spilled kisses down your neck.

He threw up the armrest holding him back, tucking his knee between your legs as he lapped you up, kissing you fully. The chair was much too small for the both of you, his large body pressing you further into the cushions.

He sat up a bit, bumping his head on the lamp. He paid no mind. “By the way, I like you, too.” Vernon puttered cheekily, rubbing his scalp. Just as swiftly, he latches onto your neck and sucks at a sensitive spot. You can feel his teeth showing from the smile in his kisses. His thumbs rubbed lazily over your jaw, enjoying the feel of your soft skin under his rough palms.

“Really,” you exhaled, relaxing against the headrest as Vernon’s wandering hands traveled lower. “Had no idea.”

“But I’m happy,” Vernon is fumbly and sweet, mumbling in the crook of your neck while his fingers toyed with the waistband of your sweatpants, “happy you’ve healed, and happy for us.”

He’s excited, almost too excited. The space between you two was warm, the lamp beating under your skin, awakening something between you two that was left behind that summer. It’s as if winter left him dormant, and you were the fresh flower waiting to be bloomed under his touch.

“Are you always,” you gasped, two fingers already worming their way inside your panties, “talkative at this part?”

“Not if you wanna talk,” and the ever-zealous Vernon Chwe gets to work, sticking out his tongue in surprise when he finds that you’re already drenched. “Shit, you’re so beautiful,” he holds onto that word dearly, and pressed his forehead against yours, “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to hold you like this,” he reached for your delicious bud, and you felt your senses flower into pleasure.

He makes a noise, low in his throat as he watched you melt against the seat. “I like you like this,” he said thickly, his voice matching the slick sounds emitting from yourself. “Comfy, relaxed. You always looked so stuffy in those work suits,” you feel wholly undeserving of this worship, as he licked a long strip from your collarbone to your neck, “would love to help you chill out a lil’ more.”

A whine bubbled from the back of your throat, your eyes rolling shamelessly as you feel the pads of his fingers working circles between your folds. “Ah, I’ve—I’ve fantasized about this,” you confessed, “every time you’d ink my back. At one point we just stopped covering myself with those stupidly thin gowns. All you had to do was turn around.” Vernon blinked rapidly, mental pictures ticked like film in his pupils. His hands stuttered across your slick, inserting two fingers between your folds as you continued. His pace was slow, yet purposeful as he made sure you felt him with every thrust. Rings adorned his fingers, and the cool sensation surprised you. You shivered in pleasure. “Mm, I’ve imagined us kinda like this in that little shack, hard against the cot overlooking the shop,”

“Dirty,” he said, as if recalling the weather.

“And ah—wondering what kind of tattoos you have,” and in your haze you reached for him, your hand gripping firm at his gunmetal belt buckle. You tucked your fingers between the button of his light wash jeans, palming the telltale signs of something hard, “please? You’ve done too much for me, lemme return the favor.”

“Not now,” he pressed his forehead to yours, “you can guess my ink on our way home.”

“Wha?“ You’re dazed, feeling warm with affection and drowned in the moment. You feel his fingers, slowly pumping out of its rhythm and resting on your thigh. You groaned at the premature end, his shiny digits resting on your fleece sweats.

“They’ll kill me, this is new leather,” Vernon said, “and now we can afford security cameras, which are so small even I can’t find them.”

“Unbelievable,” you laughed. You’re not frustrated, only endeared.

“Besides, I’d rather have our first time somewhere private. Undisturbed,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, "somewhere where there’s lots of granite."

You melted, pulling at his collar to pepper kisses on his nose. The mention of coming home to his pretty kitchen was icing on the cake. "You know how much I love your granite."

(After your granite fantasy was fulfilled, you spent the rest of the weekend huddled in Vernon’s room. You’re living off take out and mutually satisfied with the unhealthy means. When you’re not eating or watching movies, the two of you are drafting your first piece.

Freesias and pink roses.)

(His tattoo was also very cute.)

#vernon #vernon fic #seventeen fic #seventeen smut #vernon smut #vernon fluff #seventeen fluff #vernon fanfic #hansol vernon chwe #seventeen scenarios #kpop #kpop fic #kpop scenarios #kpop smut #blossomed

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a-libra-writes · 4 years

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Imagine Dating the GoT Characters in Modern Times

okay im still working on that confession request, but this sucker just got away from me lol. couldnt help meself. this is a bit more casual than the others

if i missed any of ya favs, send my ask box a mail pigeon and ill add em!

In this preference, you'll be dating: Ned Stark, Robb Stark, Sansa Stark, Jon Snow, Benjen Stark, Jory Cassel, Dolorous Edd, Tormund Giantsbane, Theon Greyjoy, Yara Greyjoy, Daenerys Targaryen, Jorah Mormont, Missandei, Grey Worm, Tywin Lannister, Tyrion Lannister, Jamie Lannister, Sandor Clegane, Bronn, Petyr Baelish, Stannis Baratheon, Davos Seaworth, Margaery Tyrell, Brynden Tully, Edmure Tully, Brienne of Tarth, Ramsay Bolton, Roose Bolton, Oberyn Martell, Beric Dondarrion

NED STARK

He always worries so much after you, like if you’re unusually late getting home or you don’t call him back for some time. He won’t bother you about it because knows he worries, and he’s always ready to give you a warm hug when you finally get home. He’s very considerate of how you like things in the home and will fix anything immediately - although, you’re convinced he’s going to drop the AC in a lake if it acts up one more time. He has a picture of your wedding day that he absolutely loves and keeps in a safe spot in his wallet. The same picture is in frame on his desk, along with pictures of the kids. It’s the only decorations he has on the desk.

ROBB STARK

He’s convinced Grey Wind is starting to like you more because you’re the one who gives the goodnight treats. His favorite memories are the times when you both were able to get away to the lake or beach for a few days; he has a picture of you both on his desk at work. If you get him something you’d think he’d like, such as a scarf, he’ll absolutely wear it until it falls apart. Before you two moved in together, he really enjoyed calling you in the evening to hear about your day. Before you started dating, he’d send you pics of Grey Wind because you had the cutest reactions to them - soooo many emojis.

SANSA STARK

She loooves trying new things and hobbies with you, even if it doesn’t always end up so hot. The baking fiasco of 2018 shall not be spoken of, the pictures have been erased, it didn’t happen. She likes doing your make-up if you’ll let her, and she loves it when you two clothes shop together, mostly so she can dress you up. Lady is the most spoiled princess in the Stark family; you and Sansa have an instagram for her, she has her own rhinestone collar and custom bowl, it’s a whole thing. Sansa likes to brush her in the evening while she listens to you about your day or you both catch up with your fav TV shows. You two are way too invested in some of them and sometimes you stay up too late angry tweeting about it.

JON SNOW

You two were mutual friends for a while before you started hanging out exclusively more and more and finally someone asked if you were dating... At that point, you basically were. He really likes going hiking in the woods with you and Ghost, and some of his favorite pictures of you are from these trips - obvs they’re his phone background, and he gets shy if someone looks over his shoulder and asks if you’re his girlfriend. You both have gotten Ghost a nice dog bed and couch but he still likes to sleep at the foot of the bed, then promptly wake you both up at 6am for a walk. Jon was nervous but excited to introduce you to his family; he enjoys holidays with them much more because of you. He loves it when you text him cute things about your day or say you miss him.

BENJEN STARK

He caught your attention when you two began casually dating and he absolutely lit up when he talked about his nieces and nephews, and he showed you lots of pictures. It was just so cute. He absolutely loves it when you wear his shirts, especially the morning after - he will pull you back into the bed. He’s a total night owl but is very considerate of being quiet when you’re asleep. If you end up falling asleep after trying to stay up with him, he’ll carefully carry you back to bed. He works evenings too, so when he comes home early in the morning, he’ll cook you breakfast before staggering to bed (obviously he wants a good morning/night kiss as you get up and get ready).

JORY CASSEL

He’s an absolute sweetheart who will adopt all the dogs and fill up the house with them if you don’t stop him. When he’s playing with them or holding them, you like to take sneaky pictures because it’s just so cute and set it as your phone background. He always has the sweetest compliments for you, regardless if you’re dressing up or you just got out of the shower. The easiest way to fluster him is throw your legs over his lap while you’re wearing shorts or a skirt and just casually snuggle up. One day one of your dogs got out and you two were so beside yourself with worry, calling all the shelters and making posters and just stressing out together. The pup showed up a few hours later covered in mud and you both ran to hug her at the same time.

EDD TOLLETT

You’d actually been hanging out with him for a while because of your mutual friends, mostly Jon. You two had such an obvious crush on each other but wouldn’t make a move, so he and Sam did the trick where they invited you both out, then made an excuse and left you two alone. He’s the master of sending a meme in response to a text you sent two hours ago. He won’t admit how much he really likes it when you wear his shirts, either to bed or out on a date. They’re almost exclusively black metal band shirts with really weird art. You both tend to go to a lot of outdoor music festivals; he always wants to hold your hand so he doesn’t lose you in a crowd.

TORMUND GIANTSBANE

His beard and hair are still wild, don’t you worry, and he’s endlessly amused when it tickles you when he kisses you. His clothes are kind of a mess so you always try to straighten them out or iron them, which he really appreciates. Whenever he sees something cool, he has to immediately take a picture and send it to you. Sometimes he’s too excited about something, he just calls you or comes over. He’d totally want to go to nature reserves, zoos and parks for dates; he loves being outdoors and thinks you look best when the sunlight is on you. He’ll take so many pics on these dates but he’s a pretty bad cameraman (he tries!). He’ll go for the tallest rollercoaster at an amusement park and immediately regret it once the drop starts; he’s secretly relieved if you don’t want to go on one.

THEON GREYJOY

Let’s be honest, he’s kind of a fuckboy so you don’t date him too seriously. He’s the one who gets attached first and starts exclusively dating you. He really likes collecting guitars and would be stoked if you’d play or sing along with him. He prefers outdoor dates, but sports bars and music clubs are fun, too. No matter what, he’d be giving lots of PDA and wouldn’t take kindly to guys hitting on you. He always finds the most bizarre food or drink recipes online that he wants to try, usually resulting in your kitchen being a warzone afterward. Yara totally bullies him on his insta, no matter how much he blocks her.

YARA GREYJOY

She’s the definition of the types of girls your parents really didn’t want you to bring home but Here We Are. She has the most badass boots that she wears with an eyeliner with a wing so sharp it could kill a man. She loves pulling you close and being touchy with you in bars and clubs, especially when men are bothering you. Her diet 80% microwave so you have to cook actual food for her and make sure she eats. Family gatherings or phone calls always bother her, so you have to help calm her down afterward, usually with lots of making out. She’d like you to go with her when she gets tattoos so she has someone to chat and laugh with, and she’d subtly suggest you’d look cute with a piercing. She’ll kill the bugs in the relationship as long as you give her a thank you kiss, no matter what you’re in the middle of.

DAENERYS TARGARYEN

She absolutely LOVES Christmastime and wants to decorate the whole house, send a Christmas card with you and her three bearded dragons and wear matching Christmas sweaters (she can be surprisingly stubborn about that). Cuddling on the sofa and watching movies usually ends her falling asleep on you, and if you try to move her she grumbles and hugs you closer. The background for her phone is you looking very worried, holding her three bearded dragons after she posed them on you. She’d much rather wear your hoodies and shirts than her own, sometimes only that if she’s lounging at home with you. She tries to plan a really nice date at least once a month, preferably you two going on a little weekend trip to a musical festival or a beach.

JORAH MORMONT

He texts he loves you at least twice throughout the day. When you go out on dates, he’s always worried if you need a jacket or if you’ve had enough to eat. Heel is digging into your ankle and giving you a blister? This guy has band-aids. When he gets home early, he likes to cook a quick dinner that’ll be ready when you’re home. Watching kdramas with Jorah is great because he gets so baffled and ask you if this is what kids watch nowadays, but then he gets surprisingly emotional over the big confessions and love triangles. Walking through a park or boardwalk at sunset while holding your hand is maximum serotonin for him.

MISSANDEI

Her absolute favorite part of the day is the chat you two have in the evening while you take off make-up, wash your faces and fix your hair before bed. Sometimes you talk about your day, sometimes you listen to music or have a show on. She really doesn’t like phones or laptops in bed because she just wants to cuddle or be intimate. You introduced her to theme parks, and now she absolutely loves them. Missandei will find the biggest coaster and pull you toward it, she also would like you to win her one of those stuffed animals at the shooting games. She’ll put them on a shelf in your room. Sometimes she reads a book that bothers her so much, she has to stop everything, march in the living room and tell you all about it.

GREY WORM

You asked him out by writing your number on his cup at the cafe you worked out. You never got a text or call, but he suddenly showed up a few days later, totally blushing and asking you out. It was kind of adorable. He really likes keeping the apartment tidy and totally loves your baking. You didn’t think he had a sweet tooth, and he's been trying out different recipes to share with you. He can be pretty shy around your friends, so you hang with him solo. He has surprisingly strong opinions on movies, so movie dates always spiral into film theory discussions. He's so baffled by social media but he follows and likes everything you because your posts and pics are cute.

TYWIN LANNISTER

You two met at your company’s expensive party, he interested you right away and you had fun flirting and trading verbal spars. You weren’t sure how he got your number, but he’d end up calling you up for dinners and dates and so on. That ended up turning into trips and long stays at his manor and basically you ended up living there. Tywin enjoys giving you all sorts of expensive gifts and clothes, which he of course doesn’t see as a big deal because you deserve it. Eventually you’d bother him about what you mean to him, and that’s when he’d just outright ask if you’d rather be married. Quite frankly, he doesn’t care about his children’s thoughts on the matter. He really prefers the dates and vacations that are more relaxing, especially when he gets to see you smile at something you haven’t seen.

TYRION LANNISTER

You and Tyrion discuss books like some people discuss politics. Actually, you both tend to have a lot of long discussions, but you both are so opinionated on books. He actually writes quite a bit and dedicates a lot of it to you. His favorite thing to do is make you laugh in public while you’re drinking something; he knows it drives you nuts and it’s adorable how much you sputter and look for a napkin. He blames you for Jamie’s love of ironic emojis, and he likes to send you screenshots of Cersei’s weird facebook rants. When he’s stressing over a writing deadline, he adores it when you give him a massage and help him calm down.

JAMIE LANNISTER

He’d often tease you about using so many cutest emojis in your text messages, so he started ironically using them. You’re positive he just picks them at random but he figured out that eggplant and peach REAL quick. When you first started dating, he tried to impress you with expensive gifts and dates, but he vastly prefers the lowkey cuddles at your apartment. His head in your lap, your pet curled around his legs and him reading off ridiculous shit Cersei posts on facebook … That’s the ideal. He was a nervous wreck when you met Tywin, although he was trying to play it off and be cool.

SANDOR CLEGANE

He’s such a grumpy bear that a lot of people wonder how the heck you two got together. You both like to hang out at music bars and clubs, and he’s always got a protective arm around you, and as the evening winds down he likes to nuzzle your hair and receive any kisses you give. He sleeps in really late and grumbles when you pull him out of bed to get his ass outside. He’ll always take care of the yard work and grills the best barbecue. He actually really likes when you ask him what he thinks about an outfit, even if he just says it’s fine, because he likes the way you twirl and show off your backside. There’s probably a football team he’s obsessed with and he WILL text you angrily about someone getting a red card or missing a goal.

BRONN

When you asked for his number, you were shook that he still had a goddamn flip phone. Even after dating for forever, he still has that damn thing. Your favorite date spot is live music bars, even if he starts to get overly affectionate and pull you in his lap. He has leather jackets and sometimes wears black cowboy boots with them and it just … works? He also probably rides a motorcycle but makes sure you have the proper clothes and helmet and actually obeys traffic laws when you’re riding with him. He’ll still flip off drivers, though. He doesn’t go to the doctor, his sick ass shows up on your doorstep half-dead and you force cold medicine down his throat while scolding him. He just likes being looked after, not that he’ll ever admit it.

PETYR BAELISH

You’re kind of surprised he asked you out, he seemed like a very wealthy, prominent person and you were a little worried. But on all your dates he’s nothing but a gentleman and he wants to go places you enjoy to know you better. Even if you both go somewhere more lowkey like a cafe or an art museum, he just has to impress you by picking you up in a nice car. He’s much more genuine in evenings at your apartment when you cuddle with him, or when you send sweet texts that he has trouble responding to right away because they’re just so nice. He likes to follow your social media just to see what you’re up to, and he has a picture of you on his desk, probably one where you’re wearing something he got you.

STANNIS BARATHEON

He’s on top of anything that needs to be fixed or dealt with around the house, sometimes without you even noticing they were broken. He’s very grateful when you plan dates for fun or for anniversaries, because he has trouble with such things. He also totally melts when you bring him coffee in the morning with a kiss, or take his coat when he comes home. Holidays are an absolute mess; last year he was THIS close to throttling Renly with a string of holly. You like changing his phone background to saucy pictures of yourself, because he already sucks at phones and now he’s bright red and it’s taking him five minutes to figure out how to change it. You were pretty bummed when he finally figured out how to set up a phone lock, so now you just text the pictures while he’s at home. It takes a few seconds before you hear him sputter and drop his phone in the other room.

DAVOS SEAWORTH

Admittedly, Davos is a little insecure about the age difference between you two, but he’s always very comforted when you hold his hand and kiss him in public. He always has interesting places to take you, and somehow he seems to know at least one person there. He always has a new story about how he lost his fingers and now it’s just an inside joke between you two. You think its hilarious how worked up he gets about his sports teams, and he cracks up when you yell at competitive cooking shows. Sometimes he needs your help deciphering Stannis’ weird, cryptic texts. He’s very weak when you’re dressing up to go out, especially when you slip on pantyhose and heels.

MARGAERY TYRELL

You didn’t realize how big of an influencer she was until she innocently asked for a selfie of the two of you. You were on a beach date and you kissed her cheek while she made a cute pose. Much later she showed you the pic on her instagram and holy shit is that’s 20k likes what in the seven hells. If it’s a sunny day, she absolutely wants to go out to the beach or an outdoor mall or anything. She likes to show you pics of outfits, ask your opinion, and buy it as a surprise if you really love it. If you both got a pet together, she’d basically treat it like your kid. She loves taking you with her on her family’s expensive vacations, and she can’t stop holding your hand and grinning the whole time.

BRYNDEN TULLY

Brynden is also worried about the age gap between you two, and it often bothers him when people mistake him for your father while you two are out. He loves talking about you to his nieces and nephew. He held off on telling his brother out of spite, because he knew Hoster was going to bug him about proposing. His favorite thing to do with you is go boating on the family’s lake, especially when you’re laughing as you try to keep your hat on. His absolute favorite picture is a selfie you took while you were in his lap, you’re making a silly face while he’s kissing your cheek.

EDMURE TULLY

He loves doing the silliest, most domestic stuff with you. Doing laundry together while joking around, picking out furniture to match in the living room, even adopting a dog or a kitten who would end up spoiled rotten. He’d actually fall for you quickly while you were dating and already think of your wedding and a family, but he wouldn’t want to pressure you at all. He has the worst bedhead and you have to grab him before he runs out to work and try to tame it. You both have the most ridiculous in-jokes and when you watch dramas, you both get way too emotionally invested and try not to cry in front of each other.

BRIENNE OF TARTH

She’s very shy about taking selfies with you until you encourage her and insist she’s adorable. She takes good care of her health and works out a lot, and she’s definitely want you to join her for the latter. She’s great with motivating and praising you! She likes dates where you two just wander around outdoor malls or museums, you just walk and chat about all sorts of things. You’re absolutely her phone background and lock screen, and when her dad calls to check on her she ends up talking about you a lot. You both like to put on cooking shows while you fold laundry or clean and you end up getting so distracted.

RAMSAY BOLTON

You weren’t totally keen on introducing him to your parents, then they suddenly came over while he was hanging out with you and he was such a Perfect Gentleman™ you almost got whiplash. He’s the reason stray dogs always hang around your backyard and porch, he leaves food out for them. He always frowns when you cover up his hickeys with concealer. He’s not the least bit phased by horror or slasher movies, but puts them on TV anyway so you can cling to him and hide your face. He’s absolutely the sort to threaten any male friends he thinks are too close to you, then play innocent when you confront him. He likes date spots that are a little more secluded, so he can grab your body and give you a deep kiss anytime he’s wanting you.

ROOSE BOLTON

In the morning, he always has to kiss you when he wakes up and before he leaves for work, no exceptions. He’s very private so those he works with are surprised to learn he’s married, but once you two are together at some company party it’s obvious he dotes on you. His kinks are even more pronounced now and he loves buying you things he wants to see you wear. He’d like to have a family with you once you’re ready. He’d be super into you sending him sexy pictures during the day, but he won’t respond right away or pretend the picture didn’t load just to mess with you.

OBERYN MARTELL

He looooves surprising you with thoughtful gifts, weekend trips or even just flowers sent to your work with a loveydovey note that has all your coworkers teasing you. He hangs around at your apartment so much, you wonder why he just doesn’t move in. He will absolutely love any flirty texts or sexy pictures you send him over the phone, and he’ll respond in kind. When your relationship started getting more serious, he introduced you to his family and daughters, and fell even more in love with you because you were so kind to everyone. He always wants to take you places because he thinks you’re the cutest when you’re amazed by new things.

BERIC DONDARRION

A mutual friend hooked you both up for a blind date, which bothered you a lot, but Beric was so nice, genuine and apologetic that you decided to go through with it anyway. You’re grateful you live in a cold climate because he looooves the fireplace and snuggling with you in front of it. He’s not the best at cooking and would appreciate you teaching him, also you look super cute in an apron so that’s a bonus. Expect a ton of different outdoors and camping trips from him, also he’s the worst about getting injured and insisting he’s fine, even when there’s blood all over the bathroom sink.

#game of thrones #got #asoiaf #game of thrones imagines #game of thrones x reader #these take soooo long to format #also i figured out tumblr just stops counting my character tags past 30 so thats cool

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this-solaris-life · 4 years

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My Fated One

Notes: I originally wrote this for #XichenWeek2020 for day 2 (prompts: weapon, regret, and soulmate ) but I decided to write a different one. So here is the original idea that I rejected. In this au, every has soulmates but they don’t know that they are until one of them says their fated ones courtesy or birth name. When they do the soulmark will appear in their soulmates handwriting as a tattoo. It’s called a living tattoo because if you take blockers scar lines lines will go over the name. If a soulmate dies the name remains. Also, in this one Jiang Cheng is the older brother and Wei Wuxian is younger. Jiang Cheng is still a year younger than Lan Xichen though.

Thank you @ruensroad for the soul mark idea for Jiang Cheng ♥

---

"I am soooo sorry, Xichen-ge!" Wei Wuxian whined as he rushes up to him only to come to a stop in front of him. His newly cut short hair stuck out in all directions and his face is flushed from running from the parking lot. Wei Wuxian rests his hands on his knees trying to get his breathing under control.

"It's alright, A-Wuxian." Lan Xichen chuckles as the other man stands up finally wiping the sweat off his forehead, giving him a charming smile.

"I had really meant to be here on time. I've just been working so hard on this current project." Wei Wuxian explained. Lan Xichen nodded in understanding. He too had gone through the same experience when he went to college.

"It's alright, really. No need to stress." Lan Xichen said trying to reassure the other. Wei Wuxian laughed, taking hold of Lan Xichen's suitcase.

"We are so glad to have you back, Xichen-ge." Wei Wuxian beamed as the two of them headed out of the airport. "I know that Lan Zhan has missed you a lot since you went to New York."

"I've missed him but I needed the change of scenery." Lan Xichen stated. The two of them stepped outside. A beautiful day with sun out bright and the cool crisp March air made him smile in happiness to be home. It truly felt good to be back in his home country.

"Well New York was a definite change. But you’re back now and that’s all that matters. We’ve missed your smiling face." Wei Wuxian stated letting the conversation go as they approached his car. They both knew why he needed the time away. Lan Xichen’s long time boyfriend had met his soulmate on a business trip and the break up had been horribly messy. He shook his head reminding himself not to go down that road of regret. He hated that he ended things the way he did with A-Yao but he’d have to continue to live with his choices.

As the two of them got into Wei Wuxian’s car, Wei Wuian’s phone went off with several rapid fire texts. Lan Xichen watched in amusement the other is in answering his texts. A gleeful smile swept across Wei Wuxian’s face as he texted back whomever it was. Just as he’s about to check his own phone, Wei Wuxian lets out a snort followed by a giggle before realizing that they’re still sitting in the airport parking lot with the car still turned off.

“I’m sorry, Xichen-ge. It was my brother. Are you in the mood for something to eat? Lan Zhan said that he’d meet us there.”

“Uh sure.” Lan Xichen nodded making his brother’s boyfriend giggle again. He watched Wei Wuxian send a few more texts before setting his phone finally turning the car on before pulling out of the parking lot.

“So we are we going?” Lan Xichen asked as he looked out the window.

“You’re not allergic to cats are you?” Wei Wuxian asked instead of answering him.

“Uh..no?” Lan Xichen answered, his brow furrowing in curiosity.

“Good!” Wei Wuxian replied and before he could inquire more Wei Wuxian started talking about what he’d missed in New York.

“We are here.” Wei Wuxian exclaimed as they pulled into the parking spot in front of a cafe. Lan Xichen peered out the window to take in the sight of the building. A simple electric sign that read, Katz Kafe. The front side of the building has two bay windows in between the entrance. In both windows he could see several cats already sunbathing in the window hammocks.

“This is cute.” Lan Xichen replied, unbuckling his seat belt.

“Yeah, my brother likes to think he doesn’t like cute things but he does. This is one of his favorite places to come too. They also allow you to adopt the cats inside.” Wei Wuxian replied before getting another text as the two of them got out of the car. Before Lan Xichen can say anything else.

“Uh, Xichen-ge, Lan Zhan says that there aren’t any driver’s available. Why don’t I go get him? He’s just down the block. It won’t take long and my brother is already inside.” Wei Wuxian asks him looking over the hood of his car.

“Uh, sure that’s fine.”

“Great! A-Cheng is the one that’ll be in a dark plum suit like a body guard...because he is one actually! He’s just got off the job, and he will not be holding a rather adorable calico cat named Sushi.”

“I’m guessing he’s planning on not adopting Sushi.”

“You’d be correct.” Wei Wuxian winks putting his sunglasses back on as he gets into his car.

A thin smile spread across Lan Xichen’s face as he stepped inside. He carefully made sure to shut the door so none of the cats would escape not that they'd want too. The walls are painted a stark white with beautifully colored paintings placed perfectly to go around the wall perches and bridges for the cats to play. The inside of the café is breathtaking and immaculate despite all of the cats. An open terrarium in the center of the room boasts a beautiful willow tree in the center of it allows for the cats to roam its branches for the hanging beds in the shape of bird cages. He spots a lovely mackerel tabby in one watching him. Below the tree is an indoor pond for them to play and hunt in. He can see the small golden fish swimming around in the water. A mixture of couple's tables and group tables surround the terrarium. The tables looked hand crafted with what look like natural paw prints in the stain and the chairs are a mixture of different styles. At the back of the building is where the massive counter and kitchen are.

That’s when he spots the table with the dark plum suit jacket hanging off one of it’s chairs with an unfinished boba tea and a pair of sunglasses. He walks towards the table feeling like this is where Wei Wuxian’s brother should be at. When he reaches the table he looks around again and spots a man in a black button down with black slacks on and black dress shoes, laying down behind the tree. The man’s head is pillowed by an arm with his eyes closed breathing steadily with a rather adorable calico kitten loafing on his chest. It’s face curled down into him.

That must be him. Lan Xichen thought. He crossed the room properly to get to the other man and the cat. He stayed quiet deciding that instead of standing he’d rather sit. So he sits down facing them wondering if Wei Wuxian’s brother had truly fallen asleep. After no response, he moves to let his hand prop up his head. His eyes tracing the sharp jawline, elegant neck, and the well sculpted form hidden beneath the clothes.

“Is there something you need?” the man’s timbered voice asks, sounding annoyed. Lan Xichen’s eyes widen and he wills the heat trying to rise to his cheeks not to rise. It’d be embarrassing for him to be caught gawking.

“Wondering if this is the famous Sushi, I’ve heard so much about from Wei Wuxian.” Lan Xichen asks sitting up straighter as the other’s eyelids slide open revealing gorgeous sapphire eyes. The glare that’d been leveled at him by the other man melted away to a look of brief confusion before realization set in.

“You’re... Lan Wangji’s bro...ther.” Wei Wuxian’s brother stuttered, flushing a beautiful shade of red, as he gently moved the tiny loaf of cat on his chest into the crook of his left arm before sitting up facing Lan Xichen.

“Yes.” Lan Xichen chuckles reaching out his hand to shake the others, “Lan Xichen.”

“Jiang Wanyin.” Jiang Wanyin said taking the offered hand with a thin smile.

“Well, Jiang Waynin, I tsch-” Lan Xichen starts confident with a bright smile liking the other’s name on his lips but ends up hissing as sharp burning pain spreads from the crook on the left side of his neck where it meets his shoulder, like he’s been struck with a hot fire poker. He knows that it’s his soul mark coming alive on his skin as a living tattoo.

“Fuck.” Jiang Wanyin curses jerking his arm back as Lan Xichen reaches up to his own neck. He watches as Jiang Wanyin shakily sets the cat down in his lap to peel back the sleeve of his right arm. The burning sensation is already fading. His eyes, taking in the way the soul mark is written in his own elegant handwriting containing his name, Lan Xichen, on that smooth sun kissed skin. “What the…” Jiang Wanyin looks up at him with wide eyes that flick to his neck no doubt seeing his own name there for the world to see with him wearing a v-neck and over sized cardigan.

“You’re my fated one.” Lan Xichen says blindly what he’s thinking.

#My Modern Soulmate AU #xicheng #lan xichen #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #mentions of lan wangji #modern au #soulmate au #fluffish #first meeting #kitten love #cat cafe #bodyguard! Jiang Cheng #Director! Lan Xichen #I hope you all enjoy it

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

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Survey #317

i’m tired as a motherfucker and don’t feel like thinking up some lyrics, so here, jus have the survey.

Have you volunteered in the past 6 months? No. French fries or onion rings? French fries. I don't like onion rings. Do you suffer from anxiety? Very badly. Favorite healthy snack? "Apples and peanut butter are one of them." <<<< Same, actually. Good shit. Favorite Disney movie? Forever and always The Lion King. If you see a bee in your house.. are you going to kill it? I hate to say it, but I'm killing it. Do you normally take a shower in the morning or at night? Morning. Do you have a cat? Yeah. What is your favorite animal? It will always be meerkats. Always. Do you know what time you were born? 10:30 AM, I believe. Do you like McDonalds? I'm gonna be real: I've never understood the McDonald's hate. I enjoy it perfectly fine. I mean it's certainly not gourmet, but I'll choose it over other fast food places sometimes. It's cheap and decent food, imo. What's your favorite flower? Orchids. Have you thought about joining the military? FUCK no. Who is the person that has impacted your life the most? Given my PTSD, I think it's pretty obviously Jason. Have you ever had a pet fish? Yeah, but not a lot. I never enjoyed them much. Have you ever wanted to be on a game show? Not seriously, no. I wouldn't want to be on television. Have you ever vaped? Nah. Who was the last person to give you a hug? Either my niece or nephew. Have you ever been on TV? I don't think so, no. What's your favorite store in the mall? Hot Topic, ugggghhhhh take me there. Has anyone ever told you that you have an accent? Yeah, especially when I was younger when I definitely did have a clear Southern accent. Do you have any piercings? Yeah, six. I have been DYING for a new one lately... How did your parents meet? Work. What was your first word? "Dada." Do you eat more healthy food or junk food? Somewhere in the middle, I'd say. What do you spend too much money on? When it's my own money, tattoos. I think I'll be perfectly capable of doing it, but when I'm employed, I'm going to have to watch how much I invest into those. What is a disturbing episode of an otherwise non-disturbing show? What is a disturbing show (or one you would describe as one) is enjoyable to you? Meeeh I don't watch enough for this. What is the most memorable song in a movie? How about a show? Oh wow, I dunno. "Circle of Life" from TLK is a beauty, as is "Strangers Like Me" from Tarzan. There really are a lot. As for shows, "Carry On My Wayward Son" from Supernatural will immediately get fans screaming the lyrics, haha. However, I don't know if that song properly counts since it wasn't written just for the show, but whatever. What is something you’re grateful for that humans have made/have continued to make exist? What about something that you wish that humans didn’t destroy? The Internet, whew. I wish humans would stop destroying the fucking environment. It's heartbreaking how many woods are wiped away here for construction, only to never be built on... While evil men are commonly talked about, what woman would you consider the most evil? I don't know, but it would probably be a rapist or pedophile. Those are probably the people I abhor most. Do you believe children can be evil? If so, what child from history do you believe to have been the most evil? I don't really think children are born evil, no. I've never heard of a diabolical baby or anything. I think the environment they are raised in molds them as they age. I don't know about the last question. Name one way that music can be bad for humans. It can be depressing sometimes, actually dragging your mood down, especially if you already feel low. What has been one of the most blatant advertising in a movie, show, or music video? Some of these questions are hard man, idfk lol. What book have you read/listened to that “messed you up” (or made you have a lot of negative feelings afterward)? Johnny Got His Gun left me feeling so spiteful towards and disappointed in the world. It definitely made me feel down for a while. If you have a pet, what is the best thing that you have for them (either a toy, a highly rated food, etc)? If you don’t have one but would like one, have you thought about what you would get your pet? We definitely don't have the money for "high quality" stuff. What works, works. Did you ever know anyone who was (previously) a part of a cult? What cult? Were you ever a part of one? No. What is something that is legal right now that really shouldn’t be? I'm stealing the previous person's answer by saying fireworks. They have a horrible effect on animals and PTSD victims and is just litter and a fire hazard. What is a movie you consider successful/good that did not have high reviews? I'm not educated enough on movie rankings. When you met the person you now like, what happened? We hugged and cried a bit lmao. Did you realize anything today? No. What do you want to do today? It'd be nice to get off my ass and get Emerson's birthday pictures into Lightroom so Ashley can finally have them... Can you honestly say you’d risk your life for someone else? I know with certainty I would for some people. Could you forgive a boyfriend or friend who physically hurt you? Ha, nope, byyyyeee~ What’s the cutest thing someone’s ever done for you? Ugh... So one night when I was lying down to go to bed but also texting Jason, I was being playful and joked for him to sing me to sleep. He sent me a video for "The Mortician's Daughter" by Black Veil Brides (one of his favorite bands) and just pasted the lyrics, and I thought it was the cutest fucking thing ever. I went to bed listening to it and just smiling. It's why I just don't listen to it anymore. I shouldn't have even talked about it, soooo next question. What are the top five places you wish you could go before you die? Ummm South Africa, Yellowstone National Park, Germany, Alaska, and the Bahamas, maybe. How many tattoos would you like to have? I'm gonna be a fuckin mural. I want tats pretty much everywhere. What question do you hate to answer? "What do you like to do for fun?" What's your favourite animated or cartoon program? Fullmetal Alchemist. What do you think the greatest invention has been? Electricity. What's your favourite movie quote? I dunno, I don't really have one. Do you prefer digital or analogue clocks? Analogue clocks are way more elegant and can be beautifully decorated. Who is your favorite foreign singer/musician? Do you translate his or her lyrics? If you exclude English-speaking foreign bands, like from the UK, Rammstein for sure. I can translate some of them. Say something in a foreign language? "Liebe" means "love" in German. What is a weather-type that you like that not many others do? Snow, for sure. I've never understood the "ew, snow" type of people. It's so pretty. Granted, it's rare here, so it's more of a treat down here, but still. Who do you know personally that has a nice singing voice? Sara has a beautiful voice. What was the last word you learned? I have no clue, given how bad my memory is becoming... It's hard for me to learn anything nowadays, because it doesn't stick. What is your favorite culture? (that you find most interesting): I'll be honest, I'm not very well-informed on foreign cultures. Due to taking so many classes though, I do find German culture to be quite appealing. They are very serious about honesty (for example, telling someone you're okay when you're not is frowned upon in small talk, even), as well as manners. I would love to experience their lifestyle. Have you ever watched anime porn? I've never watched porn to begin with. If you got paid $3 million to smoke meth one time would you do it? Nope. I'm not risking addiction or death. Are ladybugs cute? Yesssss. Will you leave the house without fragrance on? Yeah, I usually do. Do you make good money doing what you do? I'm unemployed. I've only ever worked minimum wage jobs. What is your favorite fruit? Strawberries, yum. And kiwi. What do you think of horses? I love them! Are you doing something with your life that matters? Ugh, I don't feel like it. Do you like gravy on your mashed potatoes? I hate gravy. What is the dirtiest rap song you have ever heard? Nicole played "WAP" once when I was in the car and I wanted to die. What about a dirty song in any other genre? "Bitches" by Hollywood Undead MIGHT be rap, but idk? What even is their genre???? But anyway, as much as I love the song, it's dirty as shit. What is a genre of music you simply can't stand? Rap, generally. What is, in your opinion, the best way of dealing with a break up? Lots and lots of self-care and focusing on loving yourself and realizing your worth lies in yourself and not another person. What flavor of Doritos do you like best? Cool Ranch, of course. Would you ever go to a comedy club? Yeah, sure. Why is it that photography is becoming a trend? Because it's art, and people enjoy art???????? What is the funniest movie you have ever seen? White Chicks gets me way harder than it should lmao. Would you ever consider dating someone who lived across the country? I guess, so long it was the plan that we'd eventually move in together, and effort was being made to achieve that once we got pretty serious. Do you have a tattoo? If you do, describe the pain you went through when getting it done. Well, I have six, so I'll just talk about my first one, which was on my wrist. It really isn't bad, especially once you've adjusted to the pain. I think the best metaphor would be that it's like lightly pinching a cat scratch. Outlining is the worst part, imo. What is your favorite bookstore? I don't have one. Who was the last person to tell you that you were cute? I have no idea. When was the last time you had a fever? How high did it go? Oh, I couldn't tell you. Those are very rare for me. How many times do you think that you’ve truly been in love before? With who? Twice, with Jason and Sara. Do you prefer French kissing, or regular kissing more, and why? I mean, this depends on the mood as well as how serious we are. Have you ever been married before? How many times? No. Who do you know that gives the best hugs? Summer has always been a big, strong hugger like I am. Have you ever dated someone of the same gender before? Yeah. Who do you consider to be your hero? My mom. Who is your best friend? Tell us about them. Sara. She's a very caring, strong, creative, just overall amazing person who stands firmly for what she feels is right, and we can't forget about her incredible loyalty, nor her absolute adoration for animals, reptiles especially. How much did your car cost? I don't have my own car. What is the last picture you received on your phone of? Sara sent me a photo of Martha, her ball python. Do you have any friends that actually model? No. Do you keep condoms in your room? No, considering I have no reason to. Do you follow any special diet? (dairy free, vegetarian, gluten free etc.) No, but I desperately want to return to being vegetarian. Vegan would be even better, but I know I'm absolutely not capable of that. What is an appliance you don’t have, but would love to have? uhhhhh Which keys on your keyboard are worn out the most? My "a," "s," and "d" from gaming. If you could be any supervillain, which would you be? Ha, I could probably pull off Harley Quinn pretty easily. Though "super"villain sounds a bit strong for her. What’s the most historic thing that has happened in your lifetime? Either Covid or 9/11, probably. What’s the scariest non-horror movie? I personally think the idea behind Johnny Got His Gun is fucking terrifying. What’s the most amazing true story you’ve heard? More beautiful than "amazing," but whatever. I can't think of anything else. Jason's mother actually left his father to go back home to New York when he cheated on her, but he followed her all the way there, and they wound up reconciling and were very happily married since. They were a spectacular couple, and I miss them a lot. What brand are you most loyal to? I have no idea. It's hard to be loyal to any when you're not the one buying products. Where are you not welcome anymore? Well, speaking of him, probably Jason's house, haha... I feel that if I just showed up there, his parents would honestly be super happy to see me and want to catch up, but Jason, not so much. I doubt Colleen would welcome me into her house, either. What’s the most recent show you’ve binge-watched? Avatar: The Last Airbender w/ Sara. What’s a common experience for many people that you’ve never experienced? Just... adult stuff. Paying bills. Having a stable job. Passing their driver's test. What are some misconceptions about your hobby? We'll use forum roleplay here, in which case I know a very common misconception is that it's sexual in nature and is a kink. It's never been that for me. It's about building unique, complex characters in a vast universe of your creativity, meshing with other's. It's a beautiful thing to me. What’s the dumbest thing someone has argued with you about? Oh, I'm sure something with Mom... because she is absolutely never wrong. What’s the longest rabbit hole you’ve been down? Conspiracy theories on YouTube, aha... What odd smell do you really enjoy? I really enjoy the smell of lilacs, though I know people who think they smell too strong and/or just stink. If you had a HUD that showed three stats about any person you looked at, what three stats would you want it to show? Hm, interesting question. Maybe approachability, moral alignment, and mood. What is your favorite flavor of pop tart? I really like the chocolate sundae ones. Gum? I really like fruit-flavored gums, especially watermelon or strawberry. Last song you sang along to? I sang a bit to "Second Chance" by Shinedown. Are you fascinated by rivers? Yeah, sure. Streams, more specifically, because you can see the bottom and walk more safely in them. I love exploring those. Do you live near a volcano? No, and I plan on keeping it that way, haha. How big is the screen on your digital camera? I dunno, the normal size for a Canon? Do you find train whistles comforting? No. What bird is the cutest? Oh, that's so hard. I love the pastel-colored ones, and hummingbirds are like, universally cute. Are you scared to look at your own organs on x-ray or ultrasound? No, that's actually really cool. Do big eyes freak you out? On people? Generally, no. I tend to find them cute, actually, especially on girls, but I've definitely seen people with big eyes that instead look kinda creepy. Have you ever walked on a frozen lake/river? Hm, I'm actually not sure. I don't believe so, though. Have you ever held a real sword? No. Have you ever seen a tree over 100 years old? Uh, realistically, probably? That's not that old in the grand scheme of trees, is it? Do you feel uncomfortable at fancy restaurants? I can sometimes, yes. I feel very out-of-place.

#survey #surveys #questions

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heartofsnark · 4 years

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This Is Love (Chapter One): Welcome to Hope County

Notes: Soooo, I’ve been talking about this for a bit and it’s time to just take the jump and start publishing my Far Cry 5 fic. I hope you enjoy. Also, i have like a series warning for this that will be on every chapter cause it needs it.

Summary: Dahlia Hale is the youngest person working at the Hope County Sheriff’s Department. Hailing from a small town in Louisiana, it’s going to take her some time to fully acclimate to the new environment and living on her own. Developing friendships takes time even for the most functional of people and for disasters like Dahlia it takes even longer. She gets along with her coworkers and there’s some religious family who’s taken a shine to her, for some reason. It seems like she’s on her way to getting the kind of friends she’s only ever dreamed about, even if it’s going to take some more time.

Then everything goes to shit.

Halfway through her six-month probationary hire and that nice religious family has kicked off a holy war with her becoming enemy number one.

To one side she’s a hero.

To the other she’s a monster. She’s not sure which is right.

Word Count: 9,290

Series Warning: I usually do not like to spoil endgame pairings in my fics, but this warrants being up front. This series is polyseed and involves heavy, recurrent themes of at times romanticized noncon, dubcon, large age differences, and stockholm syndrome that develops into a romantic relationship. The relationship between my oc and the Seeds is extremely unhealthy, toxic, and should never be replicated or sought out in real life. No matter how things progress or how they are portrayed at different points, this fact remains the same. i am comfortable exploring and enjoying these themes in fiction, not everyone is. If you are uncomfortable with or triggered by any of these things, please skip this and take the precautions you feel necessary to avoid this material. If you are an individual who struggles with separating reality and fiction; please do not read this. Otherwise, if you’re comfortable with and enjoy that kind of content, please enjoy.

Chapter Warnings: Bliss flowers, hallucinations, threats of violence (really not bad compared to whats to come)

A shiver rolls down Dahlia’s spine, the chill of the Montana night settling into her bones. A sign welcomes her to Hope County, her motorcycle tire spinning dirt at it as she passes. The moon shines bright in the sky, cascading silver light down on everything. It’s beautiful despite the cold, light reflecting off the lakes and streams that pass through the county.

It’s mostly woods and forests, fields of big white flowers and animals wandering through. The entire county is begging to be put on a postcard, from the animals, to the fields, to the…giant cement statue of a guy with a manbun…

Her tires squeal as she comes to a stop on the thankfully vacant road, she pushes the visor of her helmet up, as if the tint could cause her to see something like this. Sure enough, the white hunk of stone is still there. It’s of a man with his hair pulled back in a small bun, in one hand he holds a book and the other gestures outward.

Hair raises on the back of her neck and goosebumps collect across her skin, the statue is…eerie. It looms across the entire region, a creeping specter. Unnerving doesn’t even begin to describe it, her body has started to lean towards it, almost drawn to it.

Maybe it’s a historical figure for the county? People do that right, build monuments to founders or something. The clothes of the figure seem old fashioned, but she’s not sure about how far back the manbun goes.

She shakes her head and slaps her visor back down, she needs sleep. It shouldn’t be much further to her hotel. Dahlia revs her engine and rushes off that way, finally finding the large wooden hotel with its red roof. There’s a large wooden sign welcoming her to the King’s Hot Spring Hotel, the parking lot is decidedly vacant, and she comes to a stop by the smaller stone black sign that sits close to the larger wooden one, easy to overlook if someone wasn’t looking close enough.

“King’s Hot Spring Hotel

On May 12th, 1902 a 7.6 earthquake struck the mountain south of the hotel. It created a 10 million ton landslide that sliced a deep crevice in the earth and destroyed half the King’s hotel. 16 people were killed in the landslide, their bodies never recovered. To this day, their ghosts are said to haunt the site of the rebuilt hotel.

Built 1866.”

So, from a dirty cockroach motel to a haunted hotel, certainly a step up. She doesn’t really believe in ghosts, they’re cool as all hell, she loves creepy shit. But she doesn’t think any of it is real and if she’s wrong, maybe the ghosts will be nice enough to kill her. She parks her bike and shuts off the engine, unclipping her storage bag from it and making her way to the door.

The inside feels warm and welcoming, rustic. A large stone fireplace with a bear skin rug in front of it, wooden stairs leading to the upper floors. Her eyes scan the room and she finds a registration desk where a woman sits, reading from a white book. She stands out slightly in the old styled hotel, tattoos covering her arms. The woman’s light, almost milky, green eyes, look up to see Dahlia as she makes her way to the desk.

“I called ahead and reserved a room for tonight.”

“Hale, right?” The girl flashes a soft smile as she slides the registration forms across the desk and Dahlia finds herself looking down at the receptionist’s arms, SLOTH and ENVY with strikes through them; half tattooed and half scarred in the woman’s skin. Heavy-handed work.

“Yeah, that’s me, how’d you know?”

“Oh, not many folks check in here anymore, between the ghost tales and the new management.”

“Management?” Dahlia raises an eyebrow as she finishes scribbling in her info and handing her card over.

“Here,” the woman hands Dahlia’s card back along with a room key and a map, “I’m sure you’ll find the path.”

“Uhh…thanks…”

She shakes her head as she leaves the desk, doing a double take at the worker, who’s now back to reading the large white tome with a soft smile on her face. Dahlia is entirely too tired to deal with weird cryptic people, maybe she’s trying to play up the creepy factor of the supposedly haunted hotel. Probably intrigues the tourists or some shit. She takes her phone from her pocket, ringing Lloyd as she walks to her room.

“Hey, Stray,” He greets her with the nickname he gave her and she already feels a little better despite the chill and exhaustion.

“Hey,” Dahlia unlocks her room and strides in, there’s a deer head mounted on the wall and a vase of those white flowers on the bedside drawer, “just wanted to let you know that I am officially in Hope County.”

She tosses her luggage, along with the gunk the receptionist gave her onto the bed and does a fist bump for no one’s benefit but her own.

“That’s good, your interview is tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, hopefully it’ll go well, if not it might be another year of me eating cheese puffs on your couch.”

“You make it sound like you’re some sort of bum.”

“I mean…”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’m gonna be a mess when you go.”

“If I go, still gotta get the job.”

“You’re gonna nail it, I know it, me and Earl were friends way back. He’s not dumb enough to let you go. And if he is, well, I’ll be having some words with him.”

“You can’t fight someone for not wanting to hire me.”

“I mean, I can, uh, yeah, sweetie it’s stray, I was kinda, oh Caroline wants-“

“Stray, did you throw your fucking phone away?” Caroline, Lloyd’s wife, is on the phone in a second, worriedly yelling.

“I talked to you when I stopped off in Denver.”

“Yeah, in a dingy nasty motel and then we didn’t hear a word from you for over twelve fucking hours!”

“I’m pretty sure I could handle myself,” Dahlia laughs and rolls her eyes, the concern is appreciated but unneeded. She’s a cop and despite her short stature, she’s got muscles and knows how to protect her. Maybe it’s cocky and arrogant, but at this point in her life, she’s not afraid of anything hurting her physically, mentally and emotionally is a whole other ballpark.

“Still, what if you were in an accident. Have you ate? Do you know where you’re eating tonight?”

She ate back in Denver and her stomach is growling now, but she mostly just wants a shower and sleep. She’d rather just grab room service for breakfast.

“I’m fine, I’ve ate and I will eat. Stop worrying, now I’m gonna get settled in for the night, I’ll call you after the interview.”

“Wait, ha-”

“Goodbye, mon cher,” Dahlia ends the call after her casual term of endearment, cher and mon cher as normal to her as bud or pal. Maybe it’s just a Cajun French Louisiana thing, or it’s one of the many things she picked up from her dad. She instinctively plays with the ring that hangs from a chain around her neck, he was always so proud of where he came from, teaching her Cajun French from the moment she could talk. Would he be upset with her leaving the state?

She shakes the thought from her head, she can’t concern herself with the opinions of people who aren’t here, as much as they’d mean to her. Dahlia finally has the tools to be independent and make her own way in this world, she needs to seize any and every opportunity. She double checks that her door is locked, before stripping out of her clothes.

Dahlia sets her phone to play music as she takes a shower, singing along to it as hot water eases her aching muscles. Once she’s cleaned, she dries off and starts to make her way to the bed where her luggage is.

The large white blooms on the table between the bed and window, draw her eye, her suspicion confirmed that they’re the same as the fields of flowers she saw on her way here. They must be a common flower here. She’s not a plant person, but she can appreciate pretty flowers when she sees them. The petals are soft against her finger and she pulls out one of the fresh flowers, sniffing at it. It tickles her nose, the soft scent pleasant, but it makes her want to sneeze. She tucks it back in the vase and scrubs at her nose.

Her vision swims for a moment, suddenly light-headed. She hasn’t slept much and has been driving a lot, her eyes must be tired as well.

Dahlia digs some comfy sleeping clothes from her bag to change into. Content in her shorts and tee, the hotel much warmer than the outside chill. She pushes her luggage off her bed and takes a look at the Hope County map.

Her vision is still swimming but she reaffirms where she needs to be tomorrow for her interview. It’s over in Fall’s End at the Sheriff’s Department. Dahlia fishes a marker out of her discarded jacket pocket and then starts to write directions down on her right forearm before tucking the map away.

She rifles a cigarette from her quickly emptying pack, most places don’t like their hotel rooms stinking like nicotine.

Cool air rushes in as she opens the window, she leans against the windowsill, appreciating the view of the moonlight reflecting in the pool of spring water. Montana really is beautiful.

She lights her cigarette, looking away for a second to ignite it.

“Ooooh ooooh~” A soft melodic voice drifts in, piercing the quiet, and Dahlia’s head snaps back to the window.

In the grass, a woman surrounded by green mist spins and dances, singing softly into the night. She’s young, but still older than Dahlia with dirty blonde hair that falls past her shoulders. A white lace dress with flowers across the waist and skirt. Illuminated by moonlight, a heavenly glow, angelic but singing a siren’s song.

Who would be out there at this time of night?

Dahlia’s the only one in the hotel and she doubts the staff indulges in nightly dance sessions.

When did Dahlia start leaning further out the window?

Every fiber of her being screams at her to run to the woman. To jump out the window if she has to, anything to get closer to the hauntingly beautiful woman dancing along the decks before the spring.

Dahlia slams the window shut, quick and hard enough to rattle it. It’s late, she’s exhausted, she’s ridden her bike almost twenty-eight hours straight. Only stopping for a late night in a shitty hotel in Denver before getting back on the road at eight am this morning.

Between ghost stories and exhaustion her brain is fucking with her.

The woman’s singing is still there.

Softer now but still present, still beckoning.

Every muscle in her body is tense, prepared to bolt in order to go find that woman.

She smashes her fist against the side of her head, the impact of her knuckles rattling her skull as she literally tries to knock sense into herself. Her visions seem to clear a bit and she can’t hear the singing anymore, but she also might have concussed herself.

Her cigarette is stamped out before she’s even halfway through it and she’s setting her phone alarm before jumping into the bed.

She buries her face in the pillow, no matter what she hears or thinks she’ll see, she’s not going anywhere until the morning. This interview is the most stressful thing she’s dealt with in years, so much rides on it, and she can’t be exhausted tomorrow from chasing fairy ghosts or what the fuck ever.

Her mind is just playing tricks on her, it’s an asshole, it does that.

She’s not certain exactly when she fell asleep, but the next thing she knows her alarm is going off. Dahlia groans and forces herself out of bed, she hates waking up. Her interview isn’t even late, but god, fuck waking up.

Her head is clearer now, no swimming in her vision and no singing or sirens. She forces her way out of bed, groggily trying to go about her day.

She’s running late, she’s always running late, time isn’t real.

After taking her sweet sleepy time to get herself put together and inhaling a room service breakfast, Dahlia is running down the hotel stairs and scrubbing syrup off her chin. Why does she do this to herself? The receptionist calls out something and she waves her off.

Helmet slapped on and engine revving, she guns it out of the parking lot and makes her way to towards the Valley. She comes to a bridge and pulls her arm from her jacket to read her scribbled directions, remembering too late that she can’t read her own handwriting.

She squints trying to decipher what the hell she wrote, her chicken scratch leaving a lot to be desired. It looks like it might say she’s going to Holland Valley or Halland Volley or Hallard, something to that effect by crossing the Honne…Benne…Rover….Dridge… Why does she do this to herself?

She’s probably on the right track, probably. Dahlia readjusts her jacket, confirming that her mess of directions won’t be getting any clearer the longer she stares at it and makes her way over the bridge. More signs hang from the inner framework of the bridge, half of them bearing a cross symbol with what looks like sunbeams coming from the center, the other half states The Power Of YES; Take The Leap.

Heebie jeebies nest in her gut, those goosebumps from earlier coming back. Religion…

Maybe it was too optimistic, but she had hoped further up North she’d see less of…that. She did searches online and was told based on some statistical thing that Montana was less religious than Louisiana. But apparently religion isn’t completely avoidable in the United States.

The crisp smell of apples manages to break through her helmet as she leaves the bridge. Apple trees as far as the eye can see, bright red fruit gleaming under sunlight, a giant orchard surrounds the road. People mill about the apple trees; couples holding hands and parents hefting their children up on their shoulders to pick the highest apples their little hands can reach. A few people look at her as she rides past, the rev of her engine and the music pounding from her helmet drawing attention. Some looks are judgmental, others unconcerned, a small kid waves at her as she passes by and she waves back, smile teasing at the corners of her mouth. There’s a constructed Apple Statue in the orchard, noting that she’s riding through the Gardenview Orchard.

Over the horizon, built into the hills of the Holland Valley is a giant Hollywood style sign that says ‘YES’. It’s infinitely less creepy than the weird man statue, but far cheesier. Whether that’s better or worse? Who knows, but Hope County is definitely…weirder than she anticipated.

She passes through the orchard and coming up on the left apple trees are replaced with pumpkins on the ground. Fields growing them, some clearly bigger and further along in the growing process, none fully ripe, however. A house is built among the fields, one fence with a sign that says Rae-Rae’s Pumpkin Farm.

There’s a couple walking around, holding hands, but more importantly there’s a dog. A mottled coat of black, white, and blue gray with a bandana around their neck. The dog’s head raises at the rev of Dahlia’s motorcycle engine passing by on the road, tail wagging but he doesn’t run out, a well-trained doggo.

She’s running late.

She doesn’t have time.

One pet can’t hurt.

Dahlia comes to a screeching halt, tires squealing and bracing herself against her handlebars of her bike so she doesn’t fly across the farm. The couple taken aback, staring wide-eyed at her as she kills her music and yanks off her helmet. The doggie is still wagging its tail, eager to meet their new friend.

“Can I pet your dog?”

The couple is older, by Dahlia standards, so probably around their thirties…or forties…or twenties…ages confuse her. A woman with short sandy hair and a man with a knit hat over his head, the woman’s dropped jaw becomes a soft smile, her eyes gentle.

“Of course,” a thick southern accent tints her voice, “Boomer’s doesn’t know a stranger.”

Dahlia stays outside the wooden fence, not wanting to step on crops or something, but she leans over it. Boomer’s big brown eyes landing on her, so cute, she already loves him. A few coos and he’s already rushing over, standing to put his paws at the top of the fence so he can get some much-deserved love. She pets the top of his head, scratching behind his ears and around his neck. He eagerly leans into scritch and pet, licking her.

“Awww, such a good boy, yes you are,” she praises and laughs, soaking it in. Even if she’s running late, this is more than worth it.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” The woman asks.

“Nah, here for a job interview,” Dahlia answers, hugging around Boomer’s neck as she snuggles him.

“Where you interviewing at?”

“Sheriff’s department.”

“You’re kind of young for a cop, ain’tcha?”

“I’m an adult,” she says, shrugging her shoulders through the hug. She is a young adult and that’s all that needs to be said on that.

“They finally trying to fill that deputy position?”

“Seems like it.”

“Sorry, to brush you off so soon, but we have to go pick up some equipment before noon and we’re already cutting it close.”

Shit, right, time. She’s running late too, but the dog was worth it.

“No problem, have a good one, you keep being a good boy, Boomer.”

She gives a final scratch to his head, then slides her helmet back on, waving off the couple as she hops back on her bike. Her nerves have eased slightly at having gotten some time with a dog and even if she’s late, she doesn’t regret it.

Her engine revs and she’s back to traveling down the quiet Montana roads. The sheriff’s department is in Fall’s End. A water tower baring the town’s name lets her know she’s arrived in the right area. It’s not a huge town. Along the main road, there’s the sheriff’s department, a general store, a bar, a church. There’s little streets and roadways showing that beyond those there’s houses and an apartment complex. Not huge, but certainly bigger than where she’s from, which…isn’t saying much.

Dahlia parks her motorcycle outside the sheriff’s department, all those initially dissipated nerves are bubbling back to the surface. Her stomach in absolute knots and her muscles tense with anxiety. She shuts off her bike and pockets her keys then pulls off her helmet, fiddling with her hair. A deep breath, before she finally steels herself to step into the building.

There’s a desk to Dahlia’s right when she enters the building, an older woman with a layered bob of red hair.

“There something I can help you with, darling?” Her southern accented voice asks.

“I have an interview with the sheriff.”

“Really,” the woman’s eyes scan Dahlia up and down, eyebrows furrowed in judgement, “can I get your name?”

“Hale,” she murmurs, once again fiddling with her messy strands of dark hair. She knows she doesn’t exactly look the most professional right now. But professional clothes and motorcycles don’t truly mix. The woman, her desk tag says N. McClure, shuffles through some documents and reads over something.

“Okay, just take a seat and I’ll let Earl know you’re here.”

Dahlia plops down in one of the reception area’s chairs, fiddling with the cat ears on her motorcycle helmet. Her leg bounces up and down, shaking out excess energy as the woman at the desk starts to call back, asking for Whitehorse. It’ll be fine, Dahlia reassures herself, Lloyd and Caroline have been talking her up to their old friend. All she needs to do is be herself, maybe, probably not. She’s kind of a mess.

The clock hand ticks slowly, Dahlia feeling like she’s about to go crazy waiting for her interview to start. Finally, the woman hangs up the phone she was calling back to Whitehorse on, a soft smile on her face that pulls at the wrinkles around her eyes.

“Earl’s ready to talk to you, come on back.”

The older woman steps out and helps show Dahlia to the office door, passing through a bullpen style office area to get there, Sheriff Whitehorse is scrawled on a plaque by the door. Dahlia knocks and he tells her to come on in, she slowly opens the door and steps in. There’s a modest sized quaint office with only a few personal touches. She’s only seen old photos Lloyd had of himself and Whitehorse, from way back in police academy. The man before her is much older than he was in those photos, weathered with wrinkled skin. He looks like an old sheriff pulled directly from a movie; green uniform, cowboy hat, scraggly brown hair, and a mustache.

“You’re Lloyd and Caroline’s Stray, right?” He says, standing up from his desk to shake her hand over it. He’s over a foot taller than her, probably close to a foot and a half. His hand swallows her own whole, it’s probably bigger than her face.

“Holy shit, you’re tall.”

That’s not a good way to start an interview, but he seems to be laughing and smiling. So, maybe it’s fine. Lloyd once said she has a charm about her despite her lack of tact or decorum. She’s still trying to figure out what that charm is, but still.

“Go ahead and take a seat,” he says, gesturing at the chair in front of his desk. She follows suit, leg still bouncing like it was in the waiting room. Whitehorse puts a manilla folder down on the desk, the little tab labeled D. Hale. It’s surprisingly thick for someone who’s never met her in person.

“Lloyd and Caroline talk highly of you, hell the whole town does.”

“The whole town…?” She raises an eyebrow, what’s that supposed to mean? Reinette, Louisiana is a small town, it’s police department has about six people in total and everyone knows everyone. But certainly, they wouldn’t call up Whitehorse to talk about her.

“I swear Lloyd must have handed out the stations number to everyone down there, we’ve been getting two, three calls a day of people who can’t say enough good things about you.”

“Oh god.” Heat flushes up Dahlia’s cheeks, god damn it, Lloyd.

“You’ve left quite an impression on the place.”

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” Dahlia pushes some hair off her face, fidgeting with the locks.

“And you haven’t been working there long, have you?”

“Not counting training, about a year and a half, I know I don’t have much experience.”

“Still making such an impact in a short amount of time, says something.”

“Thanks.” His words soothe her nerves and embarrassment a bit, maybe this will go well.

“But, there’s the issue of your record…”

“My record…?” She shouldn’t have a record, he opens the manilla folder and she feels bile raise in the back of her throat.

“Between what’s on the books and what everyone was saying, I was starting to wonder if there were two of you, Hale. Runaways, break in, fights, attempted grand theft auto, and petty thefts, the list goes on. Doesn’t exactly scream future cop.”

“I thought records got expunged at eighteen.”

“If you request it.”

“Oh…well then…”

“I know this all happened when you were a minor and you’ve been clear for the past two or so years, but…”

“It still looks bad, I know, I know. I’m not going to try to tell you some bullshit excuse or sob story. I did a lot of shit I shouldn’t have for a lot of reasons. I regret most of it, not all of it, but most of it. Lloyd and Caroline helped me get my life back on track, I know two years doesn’t seem like a long time, but I’m not the same kid I was when I did that shit.”

That what she tells him, but she’s not sure how much she believes it. It feels more like her situation’s changed than she’s changed, but if she just said that she’s no longer a delinquent because she doesn’t need to be, well, it wouldn’t sound as good or employable.

“What made you wanna be a cop?”

“Wanted to help people,” she answers with a shrug, it’s not really anything more complicated than that. Whitehorse huffs out what sounds like a laugh, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Okay, I gotta ask, why here? Lloyd and the whole town loves you. It’s a hell of a move and the pay raise ain’t much.”

“Look,” she sighs and folds her hands on top of her motorcycle helmet, calming her body down, “I love Reinette, I love Lloyd and I love Caroline. I owe them and the whole town a debt that I’ll never pay back. But, I’m twenty years old. I’m not their kid and even if I was it’d be time for me to go, I’ve taken enough of their time, money, and everything. Reinette, bless the town’s heart, it’s...dying. There’s more cows than people, our station has more cars than officers. It won’t be long before they do away with the town’s department and just do everything through the Parish. And the parish’s department doesn’t need any more officers.”

Her throat constricts as bile raises in the back of it, her stomach churning. After everything that town and its people have done for her, she’s leaving them. A traitor, betrayer.

“You figure any of those officers will even find work in the parish, at all?” He asks with a knowing, soft look in his eye. If he keeps in contact with Lloyd, he’s already well aware of the trouble in Reinette.

“I doubt it, town’s a sinking ship. Lloyd…he’s willing to go down with it,” her eyes sting and she clenches her jaw, containing herself, “I can’t do that. As much as they all mean to me, I can’t. Lloyd’s gonna retire when it goes under, I’m twenty, the fuck am I supposed to do? I’m trying to help people; I’m trying to make a difference. But my hands keep getting tied because of money, resources, anything and everything. Lloyd and Caroline gave me the means and the tools to make something of myself, I’m not gonna piss that away because some fucker decided we weren’t worth investing in, I…”

She’s clenching her fists and nearly smacking her helmet, anger and frustration welling up inside of her, a geyser of emotions threatening to break through. This is an interview, she can’t do this, can’t be emotional. She needs to stop this, a deep breath before she starts to speak again.

“I can do more here, I know no place is perfect, but I can do more here.”

“Well, no one can say you’re not passionate.” Whitehorse lets out another chuckle, seemingly amused.

“Sorry, certain shit, just winds me up.” She massages the back of her neck, why is she such a fucking idiot? No one wants to hire a cop who can’t keep their cool and throws a fit. She was supposed to tone down her dumbassery, not ramp it up.

“There’s nothing wrong with caring about what you’re doing.”

“Yeah…” She half-heartedly agrees, Whitehorse is trying to make her feel better. Her interview has become him trying to console her, absolutely pathetic. She might as well call Lloyd and Caroline now and tell them she blew it.

“You got any questions for me?”

“Uh…”

Did she just fuck this up as bad as she thinks she did?

“Not really, I just wanna get to work.” That earns her another chuckle from Whitehorse, even if he doesn’t think she’s competent, at least she’s entertaining it seems.

“Full of piss and vinegar, ain’t ya?”

“To say the least.” She lets out a dry laugh, but there’s no mirth of joy behind it. Not a shred of happiness as she thinks about what a fucking idiot she is.

“Well, if that’s all,” Whitehorse stands up from his desk, “I’ll go ahead and show you out.”

Dahlia stands up, the sheriff places a large hand on her back as they leave his office, finding their way back into the reception area.

“It was nice to finally meet you, Hale.”

“Same, thanks for taking the time to talk to me.” She’s sure that he’d rather be doing literally anything else, especially after that beyond trash interview.

“It’s no problem at all, I-”

The doors to the department open, a man and a woman in green deputy uniforms coming in. Another giant, the man is barely an inch of two shorter than Whitehorse, with shaggy dark hair and hazel eyes. More importantly, the woman while taller doesn’t absolutely tower over Dahlia, her long black hair is braided over her shoulder and her olive skin makes her hunter green eyes stand out all the more.

Dahlia’s throat feels tight and her heart race is a little faster. So…that’s a thing.

“We running a daycare, now?” The guy asks, looking down his nose at Dahlia, though that might just be because of the height difference. Either way, she glares at him, he’s been around her a grand total of five seconds and he’s being a dick.

“Pratt…” The woman, her name tag says J. Hudson, rolls her eyes at him. Her voice is warm and rich; why is Dahlia’s face so hot? Is she sick? Has the Montana weather already kicked her ass, what is this?

“This is one of the interviewees. Hale, these are my deputies.”

“Nice to meet you.” Hudson flashes a soft smile and what is Dahlia’s heart doing? It’s like someone’s squeezing it and filled her gut with bugs while they were at it. She fucks up an interview and now she needs a doctor, great.

“Same, I was, uh, just on my way out actually.” She needs to go sleep off whatever the fuck has just hit her.

“Good luck,” the taller woman gives a friendly tap to Dahlia’s bicep, “hopefully we’ll be seeing more of you around here.”

Dahlia is dying.

That’s the only explanation. She fucked up an interview and now she has the heart plague or some shit, hell of a day.

“Uh, yeah, I, um, ‘preciate it.” She’s avoiding eye contact and she doesn’t know why she's stumbling over her words and she doesn’t know why.

“Pssh,” Pratt scoffs, “she’s gonna need it.”

Suddenly, she can talk again. Weird. Hudson and Whitehorse shake their heads, clearly use to his bullshit

“Sorry about Pratt, he’s, well he’s Pratt.”

“Eh, every station has at least one cop who’s just trying to make up for his tiny dick.”

“I assure you, I-”

“Enough,” Whitehorse cuts him off, talking like he’s breaking up a child’s squabbling. Doesn’t really help make her look any more mature or competent, way to steer into the skid, Dahlia.

“For the millionth time, no one wants to hear about your dick, Pratt.” Hudson rolls her eyes, why is that being said for the millionth time?

“Well, that’s certainly my cue to go, have a good one.”

Dahlia quickly waves off the sheriff and deputies, making her escape. She takes the couple steps to her motorcycle with quick rigid movement, making sure she’s away from windows or the glass door, not wanting any of them to see her.

She lets out a low guttural groan muffled by how tightly her jaw is clenched jaw and knocks her knuckles against the back of her head.

Idiot, she fucked everything up by going on some huge ass fucking rant.

Despite the distance, this was a phenomenal opportunity the best she’s had. It’s not like she hasn’t looked into place in Louisiana, but something is always wrong. She’s never made it as far as the interview. Either she never gets a call back, maybe they’d seen her records the same way Whitehorse did and didn’t even bother giving her that chance. Or she’d learn the town, parish, city, whatever was no better off than Reinette. One of the sheriffs she talked to on the phone knew her stepfather and recognized her name, nearly making her puke before she hung up.

This was beyond a shadow of a doubt the best chance she’s had. Whitehorse has the Lloyd seal of approval which is as good as gold. And as much as the distance is guilt inducing…, the fear of betrayal and abandoning people who mean so much to her. But, she needs somewhere far away.

As many good memories as Lloyd, Caroline, and the people of Reinette have given her. There are still too many bad ones, too many people figuring out where she came from, one too many bad memories trying to be more than just that. As much as it may eat her up to leave, it’ll eat her up even more to stay. Between the impending unemployment and her own past, every good moment there has a shadow looming over it.

When she gets back to Reinette she’ll start working to get her record taken care of. Once that’s settled, it’s back to job hunting. A bump in the road, a moment of frustration, but she’ll come out the other end. She always does.

Her stomach growls, burning through a pack of cigarettes and stress binge eating sound like a great way to deal with this. She’ll find some place to stuff her face and call Lloyd once she gets back to the hotel.

There’s a general store, she doesn’t know if the bar lets minors in, so it’s probably her best place to grab some quick snack. She plops her helmet on and makes the short drive to the store, parking her bike outside and pulling her helmet back off to light a cigarette by the dumpsters. Her stressed brain is desperately craving nicotine.

She rips open her pack of cigarettes and lights one up, bringing it to her lips. Smoke pools in her lungs, clawing to her insides and easing her nerves if only for a second. Holding it there for a moment before breathing it out into the air. Her eyes are drawn to the neon sign of The Spread Eagle bar, even bright in the daylight. It also seems to have some activity despite the early hour. Well, early for a bar. A white truck pulls up in front of the building, a man with long grungy hair climbing out of the passenger seat.

Those odd pains in her chest and churns in her stomach fade as she inhales the smoke, looking up at the clear blue sky. A soft breeze blows through, carrying the gray trails away with it. Montana really is beautiful…

“Get back here!” A woman yells out, door to the bar swinging open violent as the man with long hair comes rushing back out, arms piled high with crates of alcohol.

Dahlia drops her cigarette and helmet, bolting towards the bar, as the thief tries to scramble into the back of the pickup truck. He gets the crates set down, but she’s grabbed the back of his shirt before he can climb in. A harsh yank, pulling the tall man back into her and away from the truck. She encircles her arms under his armpits and locks her hands behind his neck, grappling into a full nelson hold that keeps him from running off. The odd angle of these heights and the way he was yanked from the back of the truck leaves him on his knees in his grasp.

“Someone call the sheriff’s department!” She yells out, she doesn’t have any jurisdiction here or cuffs to actually arrest the guy.

He tries to fight back against the hold, attempting to break free, but all he manages to do is writhe and squirm. The door of the truck swings open, the driver jumping out, his feet hitting the ground with a heavy sound. Another man easily a foot or more taller than her.

“Help me, brother Theodore,” the man in her hold struggles to beg for help.

“We have strict orders from John Seed to confiscate this liquor.”

“Don’t know or care who that is, mon cher.”

“Someone like you doesn’t deserve to know him,” the guy tells her, sneering and she sees his finger twitch, brushing over the gun in his belt holster. She can’t have firearms going off in a residential area.

“All you’ll do is end up shootin’ your friend, don’t be stupid. Liquor ain’t worth bloodshed.”

He lets out a sigh and his hand relax, something clicking in his mind. The man, Theodore, chews his lip, eyes flickering as she nearly sees the gears turning in his head.

“What’s going on here?” A familiar rough voice asks over Dahlia’s shoulder, she doesn’t need to look to know Whitehorse has come to investigate. Even if she did, she wouldn’t dare look away from the man in front of her, not until she’s sure he won’t try to shoot.

“These pieces of shit peggies were trying to steal my liquor stash,” a woman explains, somewhere behind Dahlia.

“Liquors still in the back of the truck,” Dahlia tells them, none of it seemed to break, so hopefully it won’t hurt the bar too much.

“If it wasn’t for her, they would have cost me a month’s worth of sales.”

“Pratt, Hudson,” Whitehorse calls the names of his deputies.

“I got it here,” Hudson taps on Dahlia arm, cuffs in hand, and that weird heart thing is happening again.

“Um, yeah, o-of course.” She maneuvers away from the guy, she’s never stumbled over her words like that before. Hudson cuffs the guy and starts reading his rights off.

“Keep your hands where I can see ‘em,” Pratt barks out at the Theodore guy who's surprisingly obedient as he lets the deputy cuff him.

Dahlia scratches at her nose, watching the scene unfold. She’s finally gotten a good look at the woman who was being robbed.

And, not only is everyone here tall, they’re also apparently beautiful. The woman is than both Dahlia and Hudson, with honey blonde hair tucked up into a bun and soft blue eyes. Her features are soft, cherubic almost, with freckles over the bridge of her nose.

Have women always been this pretty?

When did women start being this pretty?

The fuck is her heart doing?

“Looks like it’s a good thing you were here,” Whitehorse tells her, a soft smile tugging at his lips, “you managed to get Mary May’s liquor back and stopped it from escalating.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess.”

“Someone you know, sheriff?” The blonde, Mary May asks. His smile gets wider and he squeezes Dahlia’s shoulder, a comforting touch.

“This is my new Junior Deputy.”

“I am?”

He’s not serious, there’s no way, he has to be fucking with her.

“Unless you changed your mind?”

“Hell no,” she shakes her head, “I am the new Junior Deputy, wait, Junior?”

“You’ll start with a six-month probationary hire, paid of course, manage that and we’ll take you on permanently.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“You’ll start next, c’mon down to the station Mary, we’ll book ‘em and get your report in.”

“See you around, stranger,” Mary May tells her as she follows after Whitehorse, Hudson and Pratt forcing the thieves along. Theodore shooting a glare Dahlia’s way.

“Look forward to working with you, Rookie.”

“Pfft, I give her a week, tops.”

And with that, Dahlia is left alone on the road of Falls End…with a new job.

She got the job.

She’s got to get through the probationary hire, but she got the job. Holy shit. Holy shit. And she starts in a week. She needs to call Lloyd and Caroline, she needs to find somewhere to live, there’s so much to do.

Dahlia is practically skipping back over to her helmet and bike. She’s gotta start getting her ducks in a row.

She speeds her way back through Hope County, making her way back to the hotel. She has so many fucking calls to make and shit to go through. Before she knows it she’s back in the Kings Spring Hotel parking lot, fumbling to get her phone. As silly as it may be, she’d rather call Lloyd and Caroline in a less populated area. She’s grinning ear to ear, enough to hurt her cheeks, she looks like a dork and that’s not going to get any better. Helmet under her arm, she dials Lloyd as she paces in the isolated parking lot.

“How’d it go?” Lloyd is asking before she even says hi.

“Six months, probationary hire, then we’ll go from there.”

‘So, you got the job?”

“That was the bummer way of saying I got the job, yeah.”

“I can hear you smiling!”

“Shut it!”

“Caroline! She got the job, yeah!”

“I,” she rubs a hand down her face, “I thought for sure I blew it.”

“What changed?”

“Some bar across the street got robbed right after my interview, I stepped in, next thing I know I’m the Junior Deputy.”

“Holy fuck, do you know what that is, Stray?”

“Dumb luck?”

“Fate, Stray, it’s fucking fate! The world telling you that you’re exactly where you’re meant to be!”

“You really are a sap, ain’t ya?”

“What are you doing now?”

“I’m staying another night here, but once I hop off I gotta start looking into where I’m gonna stay. I start in a week, so I gotta start moving, I’ll see you all in two or three days once I make the drive. It’s gonna be tight, but I’ll manage.”

“Man, you’re really leaving.”

“No crying.”

“Seems like yesterday Caroline found you in the barn.”

“No crying.”

“You were so thin, just a little bag of bones…” His voice is choking up.

“I’m hanging up, you cry baby!”

She does just that, smiling up at the sky. It’s happening, it’s really happening. It feels like the start of a new life, a new her. There’s a jump in her step as she makes her way back into the hotel, room service food and she’ll start making phone calls.

“Miss Hale!” The soft lilted voice of the receptionist calls out when she sees Dahlia.

“Oh, hey.” Dahlia walks to the desk, head tilted in question, what could she need?

“A heads up, we’re switching the water in the tank for the shower and bath system to water pumped in from the spring.”

“Oh, that’s cool.”

“It’s so much more relaxing than regular tap water, be sure to use it tonight.”

“Uh yeah, thanks, by the way can I order some room service?”

“Of course.”

Dahlia goes through her order for room service, being assured the order will be put in and delivered before she knows it. With that she goes back up to her room, she starts digging through the bedside drawer, searching for a phone book for the area. There’s a white book in the top drawer, with that same strange cross like symbol that was on the signs along the bridge. She throws it on the bed, finding a local phone book beneath it, much more important.

She starts rifling through pages. Hope County is mostly a trailer park town, for people who can’t afford to build or buy an actual home and land. There is an apartment complex in Falls End, but the rent is high for pretty small apartments. The prices probably jacked since housing is so limited. She’d rather get a whole trailer to herself for cheaper and just travel further for work.

Hours pass by her making phone calls, seeing about housing and stuffing food in her face when she’s not talking. The Silver Lake Trailer Park that’s nearest the station has no vacancy or trailers available for rent, but they refer her to the Moonflower Trailer Park. It’s some distance, but with how fast she rides her bike, it’s doable. It’s the only place with vacancy, she’ll drop by with a down payment and check out the trailer tomorrow before she heads back to Louisiana to get her stuff and everything tidied up there. The world outside the hotel window has gone dark, moon hanging bright in the sky.

That settled she finishes off her food and collapses back on the bed. She’s still smiling, grinning ear to ear.

“Wooooooo!” She yells out and pumps her fist up at the ceiling, fuck yeah, she’s got this.

She’ll grab one of those spring water showers and then pass out for the night. She grabs her phone and sets it up to play music in the bathroom while she washes up. Her clothes hit the floor, air conditioner chilling her skin as she waits for the water to heat up. It has a soft floral scent and is tinted slightly green, spring water.

She steps in under the hot spray of water, letting it wash away the sweat and dirt of the day. Her muscles relax under the water and steam, as she scrubs the hotel soap into her skin. She blinks her eyes open once she’s done washing her hair, finding her vision clouding, her body feeling heavier and heavier. Must be the exhaustion of the day. Dahlia quickly finishes washing, the last thing she needs is to fall asleep in the shower again.

Her steps are shaky, her body swaying as the world swims around her. Colors distort and shift in prisms before her eyes. It’s like the night before, but times a million. Her movements sluggish as she dries herself and quickly pulls on her sleep clothes. She was feeling ill earlier, maybe it’s catching up to her? But it doesn’t feel the same. Not panicky and nervous. One of her favorite songs starts to play through her phone, though its eerie tones aren’t as welcomed in this moment.

She grips the sink for leverage, steadying herself as she looks into the mirror

All our times have come.

Her dark brown eyes aren’t dark brown, not quite. She tugs at her eyelids, the iris growing milkier and lighter than she’s ever seen it. What the hell is this? A soft melodic laugh echoes through the room, like it’s near.

Here but now they're gone.

She stumbles out of the bathroom, finding her empty bedroom. Nothing unusual.

Seasons don't fear the reaper.

The laugh rings out again, a flash of white passing by her open door. When did it open? She didn’t leave it open.

Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain...

She’s walking out her door before she can give it another thought, looking back and forth across the hall, who’s there?

We can be like they are

Her feet pad down the hallway, steps suddenly sure and confident as she tries to follow the voice. Like her body is being drawn, pulled, following sheer instinct. She needs to find them.

Come on baby... don't fear the reaper

A flash of white, the swish of lace fabric, that laugh again vanishing into one of the rooms. Dahlia is there, trying to wrench open the door. Then it rings out from behind her.

Baby take my hand... don't fear the reaper

A woman stands at the end of a long hallway, the one from the tight before. Long sandy hair and beautiful green eyes. A blue butterfly perches itself on her fingers, the woman looking at it in awe. Dahlia takes slow steps forward, she wants to speak, ask who she is and what she’s doing here. But her tongue is heavy, her throat tight, vocal cords numb, not a sound escaping.

Baby I'm your man...

Green eyes flicker from the butterfly to Dahlia, a soft almost mischievous smile tugging at the woman’s lips. She laughs again as Dahlia nears her, then she runs, childish and giggling she runs towards one of the rooms. Dahlia is chasing her even after she vanishes from sight, legs moving without her permission, instinct driving her to reach this woman. She doesn’t know why, but she needs to reach her, touch her. Be closer.

La la la la la

The laughter turns into soft humming, singing echoing through the halls. Somehow the sound is everywhere, all consuming and right in her ear, but also distant the source too far away for her to find. She walks down the halls, taking turns and climbing up stairs, following her instinct that pulls her in each direction she goes.

Valentine is done

Flashes of white fabric, doors closing and shutting. It’s a game of tag that she can’t seem to win, the small hotel has somehow become a labyrinth as she tries to find the humming woman. Short hallways and few rooms have been traded for never ending paths with room lining them.

Here but now they're gone

Sometimes spacious and open, other times claustrophobic, choking, walls scraping the skin of her arms where she has to fear she might become stuck. More halls and more floors than she’s ever seen, winding paths that make her dizzy. But she can’t stop searching for that woman.

Romeo and Juliet

One more turn, the woman is at the end of a hallway. Standing before a door, softly singing to what is now two butterflies balanced on her fingers. Dahlia starts to walk down the hallway, tight, claustrophobic. She keeps her hands on the walls as if it will give her more space, as if she could force the walls to open wider for her.

Are together in eternity...Romeo and Juliet

Her heartbeat races as she walks closer and closer, the walls threatening to crush her between them. She can hardly breathe, every breath ragged and tight. Dying. She feels like she’s dying, air being stolen from her lungs and heart pounding lie it’s trying to escape her chest. It worsens with every step she takes near the woman.

40,000 men and women everyday... Like Romeo and Juliet

Some part of her brain, the small part that doesn’t have a thick haze of fog clinging to it, tells her to run the other way. That with this feeling only growing with every step towards the siren, with her heart pounding harsher, breathing getting raspier, she’ll die if she keeps going. That this truly is a siren luring her to death, but she can’t listen to that part of her. Her body won’t. She needs to reach her.

40,000 men and women everyday... Redefine happiness

She’s getting closer and closer; the woman isn’t running this time. Just calming singly, like she doesn’t even notice Dahlia. She tries to reach out for the woman, her fingers nearly brushing the woman’s dress sleeve.

Another 40,000 coming everyday... We can be like they are

Then the woman walks through the door, Dahlia could curse and cry if her vocal cords would only work. Once again, the woman evading her, being just out of reach. But this hall has no doors along its sides, no turns or twists. The only two options are going back or going through the door after her. It’s not even a choice.

Come on baby... don't fear the reaper

She wrenches the door open and she’s in another world. No more wood walls and floors, her bare feet touching lush grass that tickles her skin. White petals float in the air and scatter across the ground. Trees curl around the area and when she looks out at the horizon, she sees that large statue of that man looming over the area.

Baby take my hand... don't fear the reaper

When she looks straight ahead at the middle of the field is the woman, she twirls, short white dress fanning out around her hips. She stops, turning to face Dahlia, she smiles softly. Delicate and angel like, she stretches her hand out. An offer, a beckoning.

We'll be able to fly... don't fear the reaper

The feeling of impending death lifts the very moment she sees the woman. Her heartbeat and her breathing easing, relief and contentment filling her body. She’s smiling and she doesn’t know why she feels alive. Free, like she can do anything. She’s walking closer and closer to the woman, each step making her happier and happier. Her body lighter and lighter. Calm and peace, she’s never known. She’s right where she belongs, she doesn’t need to be anywhere else.

Dahlia reaches out, finally about to touch her, a touch of their hands is so simple, so minor. But it feels like the only thing she wants. All she’s ever want, like every moment in her entire life has been building up to this, being here with her, whoever she is.

Before skin can meet skin, the siren fades to mist.

No, no, no!

She grasps desperately at the air where the woman once was, her heart racing, her lungs stinging like the airs been knocked out of them. The world is crumbling, falling down, everything going out beneath her feet. It’s falling apart and she can’t stop it, she can’t fix it.

Dahlia takes a heavy gasp, desperately sucking in a heavy breath and she blinks, the world around her has completely shifted. Her vision isn’t blurred, no more prisms of color before her eyes.

Cold, goosebumps raising up on her skin, shorts and tee doing nothing to save her from the Montana breeze. She’s outside the hotel, in the world she knows. That damn statue looming still in the distance ahead of her.

Dull.

The landscaped she was so mesmerized by this day, seems so dull now. She feels dull, after so many emotions, so much intensity both in fear and happiness…she feels so numb. Dahlia rubs her fingers together, her craving for the feeling of another’s hand in her own…there’s an ache. She was so close, but now she’s been plunged back into reality.

She stands out in the field outside the hotel, staring at that cement statue, it still seems to call her. Her heart telling her to go towards that looming structure, but her head tells her to go back inside the hotel.

So, she doesn’t move.

She doesn’t know how long she stands there, just staring.

“Miss Hale!” A voice pulls her further back into reality, the hotel receptionist walking out towards her with a large blanket.

Dahlia blinks a few times, she no longer feels numb, the very real emotion of shame flooding in. She’s standing out in public, in her pajamas. Did she just wander out of her hotel room in her sleep clothes? She must look ridiculous.

“Hey…”

“Is everything alright? You just walked out of your hotel, looked like you were sleepwalking.”

“Uh…yeah, I guess.”

That makes sense, she must have went to bed and had a weird dream…yeah.

“Here,” the woman wraps the large blanket around Dahlia, “you must be freezing.”

“Thanks, sorry, I, just, weird dream.” She murmurs as they walk back to the hotel, Dahlia giving one last glance at the hotel.

“Dreams are nice, aren’t they? Sometimes you just wanna stay there forever.”

#far cry 5 #fc5 #joseph seed #john seed #faith seed #jacob seed #deputy oc #This Is Love #Dahlia Hale

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