Finding Peace: Chapter 3
Summary: Reader and Darcy go to the bookstore and talk about R's big plans.
TW: swearing, talking about relationship issues
You stood in front of your bathroom mirror, fixing your hair after your morning shower and applying your skincare routine. First came toner, then serum, eye cream, lotion, and finally sunscreen. It was therapeutic the way you patted each application into your skin. You especially spent time pressing the eye cream into your eyebags, naïve to believe you’d relieve those dark circles in a matter of seconds.
You finished by brushing your teeth and scrunching leave-in conditioner into the mids and roots of your hair. You glanced into your own eyes through the mirror and forced a smile. Your daily routines made you feel secure, pretty, and slightly more confident despite your persistent anxiety.
You used to insist that Wanda should join you for every morning routine. You both had different wake-up times, but often she’d roll out of bed with a grunt to join you for a few moments of companionship. You two used to shower together, sharing the intimacy that came with massaging shampoo and conditioner into each others’ hairs. After, you’d both wait for the steam to defog from the mirror. You two would watch your reflections unveil as you laughed and hugged and shared kisses in the relaxation of your bathroom’s humidity.
Bargaining. You clutched the corners of your bathroom counter and felt tears begin to well from the corners of your eyes. You missed the routine, the intimacy, and the love so, so much. You weren’t religious, but if a god could bring Wanda back, you’d pray and pray and pray to them until they answered your calls. I’d give anything, you thought to yourself. I’ll go to church, I’ll go to therapy, I’ll deal with the drinking, I won’t complain about how bad it gets, you began brainstorming everything you could do to absolve yourself in the eyes of a higher being. Maybe then they’ll reward you with a visit from Wanda. Then we could talk, you continued as the tears asymmetrically fell from your eyes. Maybe then we could work things out and I could apologize for everything.
You brought the back of your hand to your eyes and wiped the tears. The sunscreen from your eyes intermingled with your tears, burning your eyes. You couldn’t help but shake your head, letting out a chuckle of disbelief as the stinging from your eyes caused you to wince. You reached for where your hand towel normally was but grabbed nothing. It was laundry day, and you messed up again by washing your hand towels without any backup.
You’d wait out the stinging by stumbling to your bedroom to dress yourself. You traced your fingers along the walls to exaggerate your minor, temporary blindness. You pulled a t-shirt laying on the top of your dresser and dabbed your eyes. A few heartbeats later, the stinging stopped, and you could make sense of your surroundings.
Your head was cloudy from all the memories of Wanda that pooled to the surface of your thoughts. What made everything worse was that the t-shirt you were holding was Wanda’s. It was from a band you two had seen together last summer. “For fuck’s sake,” you threw the shirt against the wall behind your dresser and turned towards your closet to put together an outfit for the day.
It took you some time, but you settled on a collection of neutrals to compliment the coming winter. You wore a form-fitting white t-shirt, a sherpa-lined brown jacket, and baggy blue jeans. Since the temperature was dropping, you pulled a yellow beanie over your head. You’d finalize the outfit with your white high-top sneakers.
You headed to the kitchen to begin brewing your first mug of coffee for the day. It was 10:11 in the morning. Darcy’s apartment was a 25-minute walk from your apartment, so you needed to leave in a little over an hour to make it on-time for the plans you had at the bookstore. You waited for your coffee to brew by grabbing a quick snack from the pantry. You had your coffee and ate light, assuming Darcy would want to go out for lunch later in the day.
----------------------------------------------
The cold air bit against your skin as you strolled through the streets of Chicago towards Darcy’s apartment. You tucked your chin down to keep the air from numbing your face and reddening your cheeks. You didn’t think it was going to get this cold so early in the year. It was barely November, but it felt like early January. You clenched your arms against your body, hugging your jacket into you.
You arrived outside Darcy’s apartment complex at five-before noon. She lived in an old brick apartment building along a side street that stretched up only three stories. It was a small building, tucked away from the main roads to provide a preferable quietness when living in a bigger city. There were two large windows that peeked into the lobby, revealing old wooden walls and muddy carpet. It was… cute. You reached for your phone and quickly sent Darcy a text stating you were waiting outside. It was read almost immediately. Darcy replied she’d be out soon.
“You look gay,” Darcy shuffled out of the apartment lobby and met you by the front entrance.
“Is it the shoes?” You promptly replied, glancing down and clicking your heels together.
“Sure,” Darcy laughed and leaned in for a hug. You received it warmly and the two of you started towards the bookstore. Darcy originally picked her apartment based on how close it was to the nearest bookstore. She played it off like she needed easy access to textbooks for her studies, but you often found her staring a little too long in the romance fiction aisle. As if clockwork, Darcy added, “I’m glad you agreed to go to the bookstore with me, Y/N. I needed some new textbooks for school.”
“Aren’t you only halfway through your term?” You asked, already knowing the answer. Darcy shrugged.
“Can’t have too many books,” she replied, puffing her cheeks. You rolled your eyes and kept your gaze down towards your feet. There was an uncomfortable silence, one where you knew that Darcy was holding in her questions. You refrained making eye contact with her. You were worried she would catch on to the stiffness in your posture that came as a side salad to your anxiety.
You two rounded the corner several blocks down and reached the bookstore on the main road. Its grand appearance always caught you by surprise. You weren’t a big reader anymore, but you always enjoyed the hospitable ambiance of new and well-loved books lining aisle after aisle. You didn’t need to be a reader to fall in love with the solitude.
You turned to Darcy, who was well-acquainted with this bookstore already. She’d been living in the area for years, so she frequented it often for whatever she needed. She pulled you inside and led you immediately to the section on foreign languages. “I haven’t really been in this section, so forgive me if I can’t help you much,” she said as she started checking the shelves.
“You’re fine,” you smiled warmly. “I just appreciate you coming with me.” Darcy was quick to look for the books you needed, so you joined her immediately. You scrolled your fingers along the titles of the books, scanning for the letter “N.” You couldn’t find much until you came across a small English-Norwegian dictionary tucked away between books on Mandarin and Portuguese. Darcy perked up towards you when she saw what you pulled from the shelves.
“Oh, shit, you found one?” She met you by your side. “Is that all they have?” She looked up from the dictionary you were holding and rechecked the shelves. She let out a small, “huh” and came back to you.
“If it’s the only one, then maybe it’s a sign,” you leafed through the book. Darcy’s demeanor fell quiet, and she held her arm with her other hand.
“So… do you really want to move away?” Darcy’s eye’s started anxiously scanning the books lining the shelves. You closed the dictionary and stared at your shoes.
“Yeah. I told you. I think it’ll be good for my mental health to get away.” Silence. You could feel your heart stuttering against your chest. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened between Wanda and I, and I really want to just start over in general. I know I didn’t open up much about what happened between her and I, but it really fucking ruined me-“
“Y/N…”
“-and I haven’t been able to eat properly, think straight, sleep, or anything. I’ve been missing her so much.” You brought your hand to your mouth and held back your tears. “I’m sorry. Every time I think about her, I just get emotional. I don’t know what to do except leave.” Darcy put her hand on your arm in a nervous attempt to console you, but you were already in the process of breaking down.
“Hey. It’s going to be okay,” Darcy smoothed her voice out and gently traced her thumb along your arm. You nodded, sniffling. Clutched in your hand was the dictionary. You stared at the words and imagined yourself in Norway. You pictured a life in that small, unnamable town, surrounded by mountains that stretched over the horizon. You could almost breathe in the fresh, cold air that hinted at the coming of the first frost.
“If I move there and it doesn’t work out, you have my full permission to tell me you told me so,” you glanced at Darcy from the side of your eye.
“And if it does work out,” Darcy pushed away from you with a smile, “I get first dibs on knowing what kinda girls you’re taking home. I heard the redheads there are really cute.” You squinted your eyes in half disgust, half denial. Darcy was always right, though. Who’s to say that she wouldn’t speak this luck into existence?
“You’d get first dibs on knowing everything regardless,” you reassured her. You lifted the dictionary up into her line of sight and gave it a small shake. “We should really check out, though, unless you need to get those textbooks you were talking about.”
“It’s only halfway through the semester. I think I’ll be fine.” Darcy lifted one finger, signaling for you to wait. She reached into her purse and pulled out her phone. “If you’re going to move to Norway, though, we should at least take some pictures of your baby steps. Momma’s proud of you, y’know.” You wanted to throw up, but this was Darcy, and this was the reason you stayed so long in this friendship.
“Fuck, fine, but you’re using my phone. Your camera quality is shit, and, if we’re creating memories, I’d at least like to be able to recognize myself when I look back on them twenty years from now.” You reached into your coat pocket and produced your phone. “Also, there’s still no guarantee I’ll be moving there.”
Darcy took your phone with a grunt and told you to line up against the bookshelves with your new dictionary. You looked like a child at her first day of preschool, only taller and more butch. Darcy held up the phone. “Say cheese.”
Ding.
“Um. Y/N?” Darcy lowered your phone and you saw her swipe at a notification. You suddenly felt off.
“Yeah?”
“That was your email. You got a notification. That Norway job wants to schedule an interview.”
You felt breathless.
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Imagine Mommy Wanda only using a certain perfume when you have sex. The scent of it intoxicating you immediately every time It reaches your nose. Now every time you smell your pussy immediately starts to throb and your panties get soaked. So now Wanda will spray that perfume anytime she wants to have her way with you. At dinner at a nice restaurant. In the car on the way home. She’ll spray it on your pillow case while you’re in the shower. Taking each moment when she knows you’ve smelled it to tease you. Slowly running her hands along your body. Sticking her hand in your panties to see how drenched they are.
This girl I’m talking to is really into perfume and she mentioned one time wanting to have a signature perfume for sex and that sounds so sexy to me
-K
"Is something wrong, darling?"
You're sniffing the air, not quite as subtly as you'd hoped. You're in the car, Wanda's hand on your thigh as you drive back home from a romantic date night. This time, Wanda had went all out, reserving seats at on of the best restaurants in town, and paying the bill before you could even begin to protest the amount.
"Oh," You start, shifting slightly in your seat. Wanda's eyes flick down, taking note of the way your thighs are clenching slightly together. "No, it's nothing. Um... I just. You erm, smell really nice. That's all."
You genuinely don't know why you're so flustered, but your head is becoming fuzzy and the smell of vanilla is wrapping you into a comfortable embrace. It's warm and comfortable and reminds you of...
"Wanda." Turning towards the smirking redhead who's eyes are firmly fixed on the road ahead of her, you tilt your head slightly. "Did you spray some of your perfume in the car?"
Innocent green eyes turn towards you, and you would fall for it if you didn't know her so well. There's a strange glint in her eyes, one that you always see right before she worships your body, and you swallow harshly as another wave of arousal rushes to meet your already-soaked core.
"Of course I did, darling. We both know how desperate and willing you get when you smell my perfume. Remember the other day?" She smirks wider at your flush, her hand squeeing your thigh slightly before slowly traveling upwards as you get lost in the memory.
You'd just finished taking a shower, and had wrapped yourself in a fluffy robe while you walked around the house in search of your girlfriend. Eventually you found her, reading a book in her favorite armchair, and you'd walked up behind her to wrap your arms around her shoulders. You'd started to beg for attention, before the smell other vanilla perfume had wafted up from her.
Honestly, it wasn't your fault. Her neck had just looked so inviting, and her skin was warm and soft and scented with your favorite perfume.
Shaking yourself out of the memory, you jolt as your realize her fingers are deftly undoing the button of your nice dress pants. Looking over, you let your eyes drift from her upturned lips to her neck, the previous hickeys you'd left peeking out from under her collar.
Slipping her hand inside your underwear, Wanda smiles widely at the slick that coats her fingers, saying, "Aww, is my puppy all wet and ready for me? I knew that my perfume was your weakness baby, and now you're all soft and pliant for me. Just the way I like it."
---
Brainrot, help. No because a signature perfume is literally so powerful. I used to be in love with this girl way back when and whenever I smell a perfume that smells like hers all the memories come rushing back so like... I see the appeal.
Mommy Wanda's perfume smells like vanilla and THAT'S CANON. I stand by that.
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