#coeurdefoudre

@coeurdefoudre sent -> [ secret ] making sure no one sees, wyatt secretly takes lachlan's hand under a table and laces their fingers

lachlan's a hardened man who's seen (and done) a lot of horrific, questionable shit. how he's wound up as the bodyguard to a little popstar is beyond him, but the pay is good, and he's found he doesn't mind her company, either.

he's been a comfort to her, a bright spot on her dark days -- the one who knows when her smiles are genuine and when they aren't. so, it shouldn't come as a surprise to him when she reaches out under the table and grabs his hand, lacing their fingers together like they've done this a million times and not the handful of times he's tried to be a comfort to her.

he doesn't let on that it's happened, just squeezes her hand under the table and waits for a break in her other conversation to look at her, "are you alright?" he asks, his voice quiet as he searches her face. no one else needs to know if she's not.

| muse: Nicholas ‘Hunter’ Erikson | open to: anyone | sexuality: bisexual | suggested connections: family (no incest), ex, crush, fellow student, neighbor

send me questions you have about my character! | Accepting

“ look at me. “ ( mia )

Anger didn't even begin to cover it, the way the person had touched her and spoke in such a demeaning manner to her. All because he hadn't given her attention, the fact she turned him down because she was with Leon. It was something that hadn't gotten through to the other apparently and unfortunately for him Leon had appeared just in time. He heard him, heard the words he thought wouldn't get him into trouble as well as the grab at her person. Leon wasn't having it, he saw red. Tattooed fist went flying into the face of the man, no hesitation in his movements and a well trained one at that. It sent the man stumbling, not much time given for him to react before another fist was landing. There was no stopping his movements, he didn't even fully register how bad he was beating the other until he felt a pull on his shoulders, it making him look up only briefly before feeling her hands on his cheeks. Her words making him lower his fists as begins to calm down. The unconscious figure laying on the ground as she guides him to his feet. "....Are you okay?" He asks, his own hand lifting to wipe at his nose and no doubt spreading the other blood onto his face. "He's alive....barely." He half growls out. "But you're alright?"

Tresses  of  pink  fanned  out  as  her  head  hit  the  pillow  ,  staring  up  at  the  ceiling  ,  she  wanted  to  ask  what  exactly  there  was  to  keep  fighting  for  when  giving  up  seemed  like  the  best  ,  and  perhaps  easiest  option.  Tilting  her  head  away  from  Rumi  ,  hating  that  she  was  in  fact  correct  ,  could  Mira  live  with  another  disappointment  lable  hanging  over  her  ?

❝  it's  just  -  it  doesn't  feel  like  we're  getting  any  where  ❞