WILDFLOWER.
❝ somehow you've managed to
become my favourite person ❞
in which rivalry fades into the understanding that love is found with her
the really loud house fan fiction
lynn loud x female oc
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⸝⸝ 007, salt in the wound ꩜ .ᐟ ❝ vienna's gonna hate me ❞
The quiet embrace of serenity was unknown to Lynn Loud. Her pulse danced to the rhythm of chaos—the crash of bodies against bleachers, the deafening symphony of roaring stadiums, and the ceaseless rhythm of a life overflowing with hustle that carried her from one moment to the next.
The Loud house was no sanctuary from the turmoil; it was its birthplace. Lisa's experiments crackled like sparks in the air, Luna's guitar wove melodies that shook the walls, and Lincoln and Clyde's adventures, whatever they were, always unravelled into a symphony of chaos.
Stillness unsettled her, a mirror held too close. It offered no distractions, no thundering crowd to drown the thoughts she didn't know how to quiet, no drills or games to occupy restless limbs. She much preferred the rhythm of movement, the pounding of cleats on turf, or the cacophony of her family's chaos.
Except when she was with Vienna. Somehow, the blonde unravelled the tension in Lynn's chest without trying, her presence softening the edges of the world.
Vienna had a way of making time stretch, of quieting the noise without silencing it, as if she carried stillness in her eyes, fragments of a winter morning, crystalline and untamed, with the kind of sapphire that felt like it could freeze and thaw you in the same breath.
Whenever the clamour of Lynn's house grew too overwhelming, she would slip away to Vienna's room, as she had been almost every day for the past fortnight. The 4 walls where the world softened under the intimate glow of flickering candles and the gentle warmth of amber lamps.
Everything seemed muted there, never harsh, wrapping the space in a quiet embrace. Vienna preferred the lights off, her room bathed in the soft, golden hush of aurora that seemed to belong only to them—an oasis of calm, a sanctuary from the noise.
This time, the air in Vienna's room felt heavier, a little more buzzed than usual. The candles flickered with a nervous energy, casting shadows that seemed to pulse with the unspoken weight of her stress.
Vienna, usually the quiet in the eye of the hurricane, was caught in a whirlwind of thoughts, her usually serene space now thick with the tension she couldn't shake.
Lynn sprawled lazily in the familiar embrace of Vienna's sheets, the soft fabric cradling her. The brunette wore a loose, gray t-shirt, paired with basketball shorts.
The soft glow of Vienna's laptop screen casting fleeting shadows across the room as Dead Poets Society flickered at the foot of the bed. But the movie held no claim on Lynn's attention.
Her gaze was fixed entirely on Vienna, who sat on the floor near the outlet, lost in the rhythm of straightening the frayed edges of her pom-poms, the material wrinkled from past games, her fingers brushing the fabric.
