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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⸝⸝ 008, the silent ache ꩜ .ᐟ ❝ this is about vienna, isn't it? ❞
Unlike Lynn Loud, silence was a lullaby to Vienna Herrera. It was falling snow, draping the landscape in a glistening veil of sweet frostiness and a crystalline hush.
It was the fragile hour before dawn, when the heavens surrender their burning stars before they could be claimed and the sun kindles the coast with the blush of tangerine and rose.
It was a seashell held to her ear, its spiraling chambers cradling the echoes of a tempestuous ocean, a wordless melody of yearning and serenity in the language of the deep.
It was silence that draped Vienna's room. It was in the empty corners and the still air, where Lynn would sit beside her—either on the bed or sprawled on the floor—lost in films or each other's words about their favourite artists.
Vienna missed the nightly ritual—the soft, steady tap at her window. She missed the way Lynn would haul herself in with an effortless grace, bringing with her an unspoken ease that seemed to fill the room.
They'd sit together for hours, their voices weaving a tapestry of understanding.
It felt oddly intimate, to have someone as beautiful as Lynn sit so close, listening with quiet attentiveness as Vienna rambled on about her favorite movies and songs. And when Lynn spoke, Vienna would hang on every word, as though her voice carried a melody the blonde never wanted to end.
In this moment, the silence between Lynn and Vienna was taut, fraught with the weight of things unsaid. Vienna hadn't spoken a word to Lynn, the sting of her absence still fresh.
They still caught glimpses of each other on the field—Lynn, lost in the rhythm of the game, and Vienna, immersed in her duties—but this time, there was no gentle smile, no unspoken warmth between them.
Words lingered on the edge of Lynn's lips, but she couldn't bring herself to release them. To be completely honest, fear wove itself through her thoughts like thorned vines, choking every word before it could bloom.
What would Vienna think if she told the truth? Would she scoff at the absurdity of it all, dismiss it as a poorly spun excuse?
Could she even fathom that Lynn—fierce, unshakable Lynn—had been locked away by her brother?
The thought of Vienna's expression twisting—her sharp, knowing gaze softening with sympathy or crystallizing with anger—made Lynn's chest tighten.
So, Lynn chose to let the silence linger, a fragile thread stretched thin between them. Vienna was already hurt, and offering her presence after breaking her promise without an explanation would only rub salt in the wound.
