𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

"Something of the sort," Yes. Yes she was and had been since her father's injury. He had been relieved of his post on the watch and his former dexterity. He had trouble swinging a hammer and his precision...feeling a slight ache in her chest at the thought of it, she pushed it away. To maintain their livelihood and his pride, Kyra did most of the work now. "My father does most of the fine work. I dabble though," she said, before caving and lighting a candle nearby. It was mostly spent and she doubted the small addition of light would draw much more attention. It would however give her a better look at the woman as she moved from around the counter. "The men at the ale house, I doubt they are slight in stature. Do you have something to protect yourself with? Aside from your deftness?"

as her eyes slowly adjusted to the dim new light of the candle, lysanne took in her surroundings, so different from her own. she tried to conceal her awe at the glinting, finely worked metals displayed around the room. this was nothing like the smithies of winterfell, where everything that touched the forge ended up heavily used. this was what she had really wanted in her adventure. to see what lay on the other side of the red keep, where no one acknowledged her without a curtsy and a nervous "m'lady" uttered afterwards. "it's beautiful work. i'd very much like to commission something, someday." if she could ever find her way back, that is. the words made lysanne's cheeks heat at the question. "i've got a dagger, but i'm more comfortable with a longer blade." she admitted, knowing she was wholly unprepared to actually defend herself. though, the streets outside seemed to remain quiet, which was a good sign. she focused back in on the other woman, taking advantage of the light to see who her savior was. "you have my thanks. you could have left me outside, but you didn't. i will remember this."

“ do you want to talk about it ? ”  whatever IT was had been a growing elephant in the room, one structured with tension. enough for the space around them to feel calloused and suffocating. “ you seem a little taut. you know, like when the seat belt refuses to let you breathe a little.”  she had taken a seat. fingers, pale and speckled with ginger colored spots had slid casually through her hair. cara knew very well what the subject matter would be about. the woman was too calculated to be oblivious. “ it’s no big deal. you know, it’s not serious. it’s not going to be serious.”  lips had been reassuring for a few months now. 

why did this shit always happen to her? how many girlfriends had left her for the conventionally easy to date boy to please their family? she was being a little selfish ---- you can't come out to family you never had, so she never had to have a conversation like that . but she was hurt. and now she was being compared to a fucking seatbelt. that sort of quip would usually make mila laugh and roll her eyes, but not today. not with the situation at hand. the brunette sighed as she watched cara sit. she should ended it the moment mystery man entered the picture. it had been a year and change since they started dating. with this man taking HER girl on dates, mila couldn't deny that cara was not in charge of her love life ---- her parents were. being a secret was fun, at first. getting flown out, hurried makeout sessions in the back of ubers, and all the precious moments with cara. yet now, there was nothing she wanted more than to be visible. her comforting words were not so reassuring the fifteenth time around. "it is serious, cara." she replied in a low voice. "it was serious the moment your family decided you were to have a boyfriend." the final word stung as she said it ---- like a slap in the face to herself.

𝙇𝙀𝘼𝙑𝙀 𝙄𝙏 𝙏𝙊 𝙅𝙐𝙇𝙄𝙀𝙏 to have her car break down in the middle of nowhere on her mission to finally leave her old, lavish life in miami behind. what was supposed to be a five-hour road trip to the small town she’d found online last month had ended up being a lot longer when she saw a sign for a cute diner on her way there. after eating the best piece of lemon meringue pie at the said establishment, she took what she thought was a detour and ended up getting completely lost. her phone had no service which caused her to panic, but the icing on the cake came when it began to suddenly downpour. due to not being able to see a thing in front of her, the blonde found herself driving into a ditch and when she realized there was no way to get out of it, she decided that looking for some help would be her best bet. which is why she’s now completely soaked from head to toe, walking in the rain for a good twenty minutes when a farmhouse finally comes to view. thank god. she tries not to think about how this could be a mistake -- wasn’t there a horror movie that started this way? where a lost girl trying to find shelter ends up being murdered by a man with a chainsaw? juliet tries to push those thoughts aside though, especially since she was starting to get cold and knows that the sun was about to set soon. walking up the long driveway and onto the front porch, she’s just about to knock on the front door when it suddenly swings open, a man appearing in front of her. he was older. handsome. didn’t give off serial killer vibes but also didn’t seem to be a fan of her being on his property. ❝ hi! i’m so sorry to bother you...❞ she starts, rubbing her arms in an effort to warm herself up. ❝ my car broke down around twenty minutes from here and i don’t have any service. could i please use your phone to call for a tow truck? ❞

tomas hates rainy days. in theory, they were great. an excuse to lounge around the house while the crops drink in the moisture. it’s so quiet and lonely, he ends up hoping for the promise of hard labor and hot sunlight to quiet his mind. as much as he likes to pretend he’s bothered by a disturbance, it’s at least breaking the silence that weighs heavy within the farmhouse walls. especially when the disturbance takes the form of a blonde, tanned bombshell that’s soaked to the bone. she must be freezing. he tries not to dwell on how the material of her shirt clings to her breasts, trying to keep a semblance of decorum. instead, he watches her closely, cold rainy air blowing against his stained flannel. "i don't own a phone." he's slightly embarrassed at the admission. as if she were a woman to impress, instead of a woman simply asking for help. "the least i can do for you is get you a change of clothes." he adds, gesturing inside. he couldn't bear to watch her shiver on his porch for a minute longer. he's racking his brain, trying to remember the last time he cleaned the bathroom. if only he'd known what the rain was to bring him. tomas nods towards the parlor, walking over to the small fire and stoking the flame, feeding some more wood to get the warmth to spread to the far corners of the room. he never used more than he needed to ---- but for her, it was almost too easy to make the exception. standing back up once he's happy with the fire, he grabs a fleece blanket from a corner basket and tosses it her way. "give me your keys, and i can park your car in my yard. unfortunately for you, our town mechanic steve will charge you up the ass, looking the way you do." he laughs before clearing his throat, catching his own cuss words too late. "i mean ---- he'll overcharge you. i'll see what i can do tomorrow morning." he puts his hand out expectantly.

"and who says i was expecting a gallant knight?" on the contrary, she's had enough male companionship in the past three years to last her a lifetime. it feels remarkably freeing to tag along with a woman other than the many handmaidens she's had in the past. she doesn't bat an eye when margaret finally removes her helmet, though she's quite pretty — pretty enough that aemma takes a minute to let it sink in before speaking again, pale fingers reaching up to brush over a strand of dark hair. "is it really so inconveivable that i may feel a kinship toward you exactly as you are?"

the blonde's words give margaret pause. it was a lonely life, to love women who only had eyes for men. she'd had her share of lovers, and heartbreaks, but they were long ago, memories stuffed in the halls of a forgotten castle. "that's what all ladies expect." she gives a shrug at that, gauging the girl's reaction to her true features. she was vulnerable, in this moment. even more so when aemma brushes a lock of her hair. "it's a little inconcievable, yes. you are the most breathtaking woman i've ever laid eyes on." how could she not prepare herself for the worst? she had gotten all of the affirmation she needed to reach over and pull the petite woman onto her lap. "this alone is repayment enough." though the heat pooling in her leathers indicates that is far from the truth. she leans forward, palcing her lips on the other's jaw, softly kissing as she takes in the other's scent, her hands pawing lazily at the fabric of her skirts.

"—— you're serious? well, aren't you a doll." it's in her nature to be condescending, but she genuinely means it. there's no way to her heart quite like compliments and free merchandise, even if the latter starts to get dull when you rack up thousands of dollars' worth in free gifts over the span of a week. "i'd say the calibre of the clientele, but the preferential treatment i'm getting is quickly taking the lead." the overall demographic of the club is pleasing to her eye, which is rare, and the owner continues to set that bar high. it's why she takes the champagne glass from her without a second thought. "let's see— overpriced drinks, questionable music... it might take some convincing." she's lying - she already has plans to come back next saturday, but she's curious to see if she can get the other woman to sweat. "can you think of any incentives?"

a small breath escapes moira's lips in guise of laughter, amused at the blonde's expression of gratitude. the whole reason she'd begged her father to help her buy a club was for this exact reason ---- offering unlimited beverages to pretty women. "ah, you're a fan of preferential treatment then?" an eyebrow quirks, tone husky with implication. she rolls her eyes playfully at the constructive criticism. "well, for one, i'll be here." her words are bold, and the dainty hand that can't help but to travel up the other's thigh follows suit. "and next time, i'll make sure the vip floor is cleared out for us." once the image of lucy coming undone in a shadowy corner of her lounge was brought to mind, moira could not get it to leave. she squirms in place instead, watching the other's reaction as fingers draw abstract shapes on her upper thigh.

"sweetheart, i hear you've been... what's the saying? throwing shade. i'm just completely... wounded." elora's musing comes with her typical dramatics; a pout and breathy tone as she lounges herself back into the plush of her couch. "however, my twitter mentions are up thirty percent this week, according to my publicist. whatever you're doing? keep doing it."

giana manages to keep her gaze steady, resisting the urge to roll her eyes as elora speaks. "not everything i say or do is about you, elora." the words are cold ---- as they always are, when they're delivered by giana. so she may have subtweeted elora, but that's the beauty of shade. plausible deniability. "my shoulders are getting awfully tired from carrying both of our careers. the least you could do is give them a rub." she sips from her glass, eyeing the other.

"Is it that obvious?" she asks with a laugh as she lowers the glass, setting it in her lap to prevent herself from fidgeting further. "I'm not even from this state, just visiting. I came with a friend who would probably just die if she knew where I was right now." She cranes her neck, attempting to see over the crowd of people but it's too dense. Natalie would just have to remain below and have to hear the second-hand account when they got home. Not wanting to share her entirely pathetic life story — read: boring — she turns the question on her host. "What about you? You've surely had to have come from somewhere super cool to think of this place. It's just so ... cool." Her nose scrunches up as she takes another drink of the amber liquid. Moira just looked so cool and Poppy felt whatever the opposite of that was. "No, but really, Nat could not shut up about this place when I told her that I'd be coming out. So I guess that's a really good review? And it's certainly has lived up to what she's sad." Another tick, hopefully, in the right column.

moira laughs along with poppy, an eyebrow raising. of course she was from out of town --- her doe eyes couldn't get enough of the dark club. she's happy that the other girl doesn't use her friend as an excuse to get out of their conversation. caught in her web for at least a while longer. as poppy turns the question back on her, she shrugs. "i was born in this city. my mother was an armenian immigrant." the sugar coated version. she didn't yet need to know that her mother was only brought over to her mob boss father's request. immigrant sounded a little more relatable. "i'm glad you're liking it." she grins again, setting her glass down on the table and focusing back in on poppy. "do you want to dance?" she asks suddenly. the leather couch is too formal ---- she wants to feel the other against her on the crowded floor.

ian somerhalder