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
⸝⋆˚࿔ WILDFLOWER 𝜗𝜚˚ ♫ reflections; the neighbourhood ♫
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
⸝⸝ 003, the in between ꩜ .ᐟ ❝ you'd rather get arrested than stay in here in with me? ❞
Vienna Herrera, a rippling spirit in her own skin, once again yearned to slip into the cracks of dusk. Was it Lucas' iron grip around her wrist, binding them like a shackle, closing the chasm she had taunted to forge?
The weight of her own words—the ones that severed any fragile connection between them—hung in the air like a noose, tightening. His russet glare, untamed and turbulent, smoldered with storms beneath a red, glossy sheen, burning with native ferocity.
"Cut the shit, Vee." Before Vienna could take in all that was unfurling around her, she was heaved, her body stumbling as she was hauled to the top of the staircase. It felt as if the ground itself was slipping away beneath her, leaving the blonde suspended in an unsettling freefall.
"I'm fucking breaking up with you, Lucas." Vienna's voice erupted, fierce and impatient, cascading through the throng and drawing the wide-eyed stares of many.
A roguish smile crept at the corners of Lucas' lips, his head cocked with a casual arrogance as amusement flickered in his stare. "Look at me, and say that again."
Vienna drew closer, her heart hammering violently against her as she locked her eyes with his. The weight of the moment bore down on her, and her voice emerged, hollow and fragile, barely more than a whisper. "We're done."
"It's not like anyone else is gonna put up with your shit." Lucas scoffed, finding hilarity in the air thick with tension. His hand never faltered, a stubborn tether that sought to bound her in this prominence.
The reason Vienna had wanted to end things with Lucas was no longer a vague unease or some exaggerated scenario she'd conjured in her head—it was staring her right in the face. Vienna's own eyes, rattled, shallow, and fractured, could only mirror his fury.
Her reverie of fevered anguish held for a fleeting moment until the shrill of sirens sliced through the porcine stillness, heaving her from the depths of her trance. The estate washed in the pulsing blaze of red and blue, painting the scene with an unsettling calm over the anarchy as teenagers rushed to flee.
Lucas' head jerked toward the front door, eyes locking on the approaching figures of cops. His grasp on Vienna embedded, desperate.
"Come on, let's go," he urged, his voice low, wasting no time in tugging her closer, dissolving the void between them.
Vienna didn't falter, seizing her wrist from Lucas' grip. His gaze lingered on her, tracing every step of her retreating figure.
