` ❀ 𝓵 can meet you in the car lot, I'll spread out on your hot rod. You can come and get me only when I say but I think I'm liking her more, she does the things I never ask for. You can touch and feel just don't get in the way . ݁ ꒱

— The wilderness — midwinter.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

Snow blanketed everything outside, thick enough to muffle even the wind. The fire had burned low. Most of the girls were sleeping — curled in heaps of blankets and exhaustion, bone-thin and frost-bitten.

But not Van.

Van was awake.

With you.

You sat in the corner, sharpening a blade you didn’t need to sharpen — not really — but the motion steadied you. Van sat nearby on the floor, legs crossed, head tilted, watching you like she couldn’t decide whether to smirk or fold.

She didn’t joke with you the way she did with the others.

Didn’t call you names. Didn’t crack a line about your hair or your voice or your weird little rituals before bed.

No, with you she was... different.

She listened.

She followed.

At first, you thought it was because she needed you. Everyone needed someone in the woods. But there was something else in her gaze — a kind of quiet obedience you didn’t expect from Van Palmer.

She always sat lower when you were near.

Let you lead when the others voted.

Touched your hand only when you allowed it.

And now, in the firelight, her voice was softer than you’d ever heard.

— “You don’t tell me what to do,” – she murmured. – “but I want you to.” –

You looked up slowly.

Van didn’t drop her gaze.

– “I know I run my mouth,” – she added. – “I know I act like I’ve got it all figured out. But with you... I don’t wanna be in charge.” –

You leaned forward, eyes steady.

– “And what do you want instead, Van?”

She hesitated.

Then: – “Tell me where to sit. Tell me how to touch you. Tell me I’m yours. Just for a little while.” –

You didn’t answer with words. You reached for her, slow and deliberate, and curled your fingers beneath her chin, lifting it just enough so she had to look up at you properly — no masks, no smirks.

Her breath caught.

– “Take off your jacket,” – you whispered. – “And stay here. Until I tell you otherwise.” –

Van obeyed without a word.

No jokes. No fight.

Just that fierce, loyal softness she never let anyone else see.