#Sorry flora fans I know yall love her

[percephilous]

I may not like her very much but I'll be damned if I stop her from doing whatever the hell she wants you go girl comit those atrocities

[una-hopeless-romantic1118]

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐕: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐃𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐬?—𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐑𝐨𝐣𝐚𝐬/𝐑𝐡𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐬

a/n: sorry for disappearing :,( I’ve had a pretty shitty life lately and writing has been helping me cope. things are less tense now and i’m able to update so i’m hoping u guys enjoy this MOMMY IS FEEDING YALL

timeline: ep. 3 (right smack in the Christmas scene) - ep. 4. 

PS I WILL BE MAKING ANOTHER CHAPTER. WHY? BC I WANNA SNEAK IN SOME HARDCORE ANGST BC WHAT IS A LOVE STORY WITHOUT ANGST

also bc i feel like the relationship is sped up and rushed and we hate that

Part 1

Part 2  

Part 3

Part 4

This chapter: Part 5

Part 6

Epilogue

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

warnings: as always, not proofread, hornae warren and y/n, some cavity-causing fluff, billy being a dicky dick, 

summary:

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

•─────⋅(cut to documentary)⋅─────•

Eddie: Y/N Augustine was not who I expected to show up that Christmas Eve, with two trays of the best smelling lasagna I’ve ever smelled in my life, and an apologetic smile.

Why did she look apologetic? I don’t know, maybe it had something to do with the fact that as soon as she walked in, Warren was behind her? They were, like, 3 hours late.

Karen: Y/N is always on time. Whatever it is, doesn’t matter. For someone as fashionable as her, she manages to always arrive on time in the most gorgeous outfits I’ve ever seen. 

She was still gorgeous that night, of course, but she was late, and she had a sort of...sleazy smile. Of course everyone assumed the same thing.

But 3 hours late? *she rolled her eyes* I mean, fuckin’. hell. 

Camilla: When I first talked to the Y/N Augustine, I remember almost dropping you *she laughs* I was a major fan of her work, and still am. I really wasn’t expecting her on the phone when she called a few months before.

I asked who she was, being so forward on the phone about asking for my vest size when I didn’t order anything. I explained who I was, and introduced myself as Billy Dunne’s wife, and that I didn’t order a vest from this woman.

She was silent on the phone for a while, and came back introducing herself saying her name casually as if she wasn’t an important person. She said that she had no idea who Billy was, and that she was only familiar with a Warren Rojas, who she owed an order.

I found myself wondering how Warren managed to get a fashion designer to owe him a piece of her work...*she shrugs*

After freaking out to myself while I got his vest size, I didn’t bother passing the phone to him. And why would I? I wasn’t going to pass the chance to talk to one of my idols. And she didn’t seem to mind either.

I believe we went from talking about California, to the beaches, the majestic golden hour that shined through our windowsills at the same time, to you, even. She heard you crying through the phone.

And when I finally met her in person that night on Christmas, she was as lovely and funny. She gave every one of us presents, including you, and bothered to make us homemade food. I was so happy for Warren, but there were so many gaps as to how they even met.

•─────⋅(cut back)⋅─────• 

“How did it go. Really,” Camilla insisted with a pleading tone. “How did you two meet?”

“Oh boy,” Karen mused, drinking her beer.

Y/N gave her friend beside her a pointed glare. “We met at a yacht party.”

Eddie leaned forward. “S-So is your name really Flora? Were you born ‘Flora?…” 

“Flora...?” Camilla commented, lost, looking back and forth between Eddie and Y/N.

•─────⋅(cut to documentary)⋅─────•

Graham: She was so sweet about it, when me and Eddie went back and forth trying to connect the dots, which made it even more embarrassing. 

I guess it didn’t really make sense to me at the time. Why and how someone proper and prim like her managed to wind up with Warren, the wild one of the group. 

If I really considered the times he came late for practice, or left early, or that whenever he left to “work” at the boats, I think I could’ve gotten to the conclusion that he was smitten for this woman a lot earlier. 

•─────⋅(cut back)⋅─────•

“That’s pretty smart right there,” Eddie chuckled at Y/N’s recall of fooling Warren. “I am very impressed.”

Y/N shrugs humbly, obviously as a joke. Warren knew she would forever tell this tale for however long she lived. Meanwhile, he’s just glad to be part of it and getting her at the end of it.

It seems that in their almost month-long relationship, the two have managed a healthy and surprisingly well schedule to meet up. With Y/N’s new projects and the band’s practices, they meet three times a week. Sometimes four, or more, depending on Warren’s libido that Y/N’s compared to a rabbit’s.

Though, it’s not like she can’t complain.

Apart from that though, Warren never misses the chance to get her something. Mostly jewelry boxes, jewelry, and take-out food, and when she needed to run an errand, he’d come to her apartment with her much needed rolls of cloths that he paid for, despite sending him off with her money.

•─────⋅(cut to documentary)⋅─────•

Y/N: When Warren and I first started dating, he was always the one coming to my place, never me visiting him over at Laurel Canyon. It was a little suspicious at first, so when I told him what I thought, y’know what he said?

He said, with the biggest grin on, “I wanna make a show out of it” and went to sleep after saying that. I never knew what he meant until that Christmas.

•─────⋅(cut back)⋅─────•

That night, he did indeed showcase his lover to his friends. Every question asked by Camilla or Billy or Eddie about her career he knew the answers to. 

Where were you raised? Here in California up until she was 10, lived in France until she was 22 and moved back here to start Serenity. Sexiest French accent ever, even better when she’s muttering phrases under her breath stressfully.

Siblings? Two brothers, one older who hosts a foster home with his wife, one younger who just started a professional boxing career following their father’s footsteps. Three stepsisters who are all younger than her from her step-mom’s side, all of who are just now convinced their sister is famous for dating a rockstar drummer.

Favorite part about putting together designs? She finds satisfaction in piecing them together, and how she gets lost in sketching to the point that she doesn’t realize how long she’s been working.

Favorite song ever?  She’ll say something everyone else says: Dreams by Fleetwood Mac. It is a good song, but it’s not a favorite song ever, because in reality it’s something old, specifically, Stand By Me by Ben E. King. She doesn’t like admitting this to other people for fear of being called a sappy romantic.

She is, in fact, a sappy romantic, and Warren doesn’t miss the chance to taunt her about it. The bedside table full of romance books that he's tried to read, but for the love of everything good he cannot sit still and read.

What he doesn't mind doing, however, is sit still to watch another invest in her books with focused, determined brows, and the occasional squealing after reaching a certain point in the book.

He's got her memorized so well, even Y/N's surprised that the things and habits she's kept to herself, he notices like she leaves it out in the open under the sun.

At the thought, she rests her head on his shoulder with a proud grin. And Warren responds with a peck at the top of her head.

While listening to an ecstatic Eddie share a story, something against Y/N’s lower back began to grow.

She holds in every fiber in her body to refrain them from giggling.

“Shame on you.” She sarcastically spat in his ear.

He frowns down at her. “Huh?”

Y/N widens her eyes and makes a pointed glare down to his erection.

There was a short reaction of shock. “Shame me? Shame on you.” Warren took note of this. It’s happened way too many times now, and he’s lost awareness of what turns him on. “Thanks to you, I don’t have control over my body functions anymore.”

“I didn’t do anything!” She whisper shouted.

“You’re just way too hot and good,” he groaned. “I can't wait to get home."

Y/N sighed into his shoulder helplessly. Home. Their condo, together.

“I love the way you smell,” he whispered, as he always does whenever near her. But no matter how many times he’s sniffed her or said that, he still doesn’t know exactly what she smells like. He figured it was sweet, of course, but it didn’t shoot up his nose too strongly. It wasn’t fruity either, or so he figured she's just her own scent. Natural.

"Thanks." She smiled up at him. "It’s the French brand. It lasts longer on me.”

"No, I think it's just you."

She looks up at him through furrowed eyebrows. "Nobody can just smell nice naturally."

He shrugs. "Well, I dunno what smell it is." He twirls her hair. “It can’t be on a title of a perfume brand.”

She shook his chin playfully. “Pay attention to the conversation, playboy.” 

He can’t. How could he?

It’s only been a month, but a month of what Warren already knew was pure and genuine. Y/N could do no wrong to him, and vice versa. They were good for each other.

The soft, buttery gliding up and down on his arm is what Warren can determine with his eyes closed; the softness of Y/N's fingers. The arm wresting on her chest as she leans on his front—it was only natural for Y/N to caress.

And as a response, another peck to her head.

•─────⋅(cut to the documentary)⋅─────•

Daisy: I’ve never been a fashion fanatic, but Y/N’s work spoke to me. She was a true artist, y’know? She knew what she was doing, and she is really fucking good at it. She didn’t just throw it a bunch of cloth and called it a day, the woman directed her creativity to the art every single time. And I recognized that.

Imagine my surprise when I see her at a house party I was also invited to.

•─────⋅(cut back)⋅─────•

Daisy arrives at the Dunnes’ place, already making a fool of herself by absentmindedly dropping the bottle of wine that she technically stole, but still.

Not to mention, she had an audience, their faces were clouded by the smoke she just blew out, and not to mention, it was dark.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it.” In her voice, Daisy can tell she spoke with a smile. “They have too much fun, they’ll need the fruit. Nutritional values.”

She emerged from the shadows with, indeed, a smile that warms the heart. But a recognizable face that she’s seen on televised interviews and small pictures of beside the designs she eyes enviously on the magazines.

“Holy shit...holy shit!” Her hands went up to the sides of her head. “Holy fucking shit! Hi! Oh my goodness...”

“Daisy Jones you’ve been in radios in everywhere I’ve been today,” she chuckled humbly. “I can ensure you I’m a bigger fan.”

“I’ve seen you in magazines for a lot longer. “ She shook her head in disbelief. “I love you so much.”

But before Y/N escorts her to the rest of the band, she pulls her into a hug.

•─────⋅(cut to the documentary)⋅─────•

Daisy: I’m not much of a hugger. I think, especially considering my relationship with my mother, I couldn’t handle physical touch. Most times I would just be forced into hugging people and I stand there, just like a stiff tree. But something about Y/N, even though I’d never met her before, made me feel so glad that I’m a person she would hug.

I felt really appreciated by this stranger.

While we spent most of the night talking us a group, eventually everyone else started to branch out and talk to others. Warren was clung to her like a lost puppy. God, *shaking her head* never thought a guy like Warren can be sappy. 

They just started dating and I could already see the connection between them. They mutually understood each other on such a level that everyone else around them can just do theirselves a favor and leave them alone.

•─────⋅(cut back)⋅─────•

“My family might visit for the summer,” Y/N smiles against her hand. “I can’t wait. Lils and Hana and Ines are gonna try and talk to you. They’re English is so broken, it’s adorable.”

Warren smiles at her, even as he’s drunkly chugging at his drink. “You ever think about kids? I dunno, someday?” He panicked.

“Yeah. I think about kids.” Y/N vaguely answered to tease him.

He nods slowly. “Ye-Yeah. Me too.”

Y/N smiles innocently, scratching his headful of curls. “Want my kids?”

Warren gave her the deepest kiss as an answer.

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