•••••••••••••••••••••••Requests Open!••••••••••••••••••••••••
Will update upon receiving requests. Check chapter cleverly titled "⭐️Requests Open!⭐️" for more details (it's the 10th chapter!)
You can never have too many classic rock one shots, can y...
Muse: Chinese-American Actress, Philanthropist, Dancer and Restauranteur Nancy Kwan Musician: American Singer & Songwriter Carole King Time: Late Sixties to Early Seventies
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Lora's skin was milk white underneath her navy blue running shorts, contrasting greatly with her newly acquired golden suntan.
It had rained all throughout the previous night, and although the soil was quickly drying in the parched heat of the sun, it was still slightly muddy. Lora pulled at the fabric of her form-fitting white tank top, attempting to fan herself as she made her way back to her and her girlfriend's home.
The couple lived in a cozy farmhouse just outside of Brooklyn. They had a few acres of untouched land; mostly scrawny trees and overgrown grass, but they wouldn't have it any other way.
Finally reaching the wooden structure, Lora stepped onto the porch and opened the unlocked door. There wasn't a house for miles, so they wouldn't lock the door unless neither of them were home.
"Baby, I'm back!" Lora called, hooking her index finger into the pull tab of her muddy sneakers. They were royal blue Adidas Italia's with white stripes, the 1960 release, and Carole bought them for her for her birthday. She sometimes felt bad about not keeping them spotless, but shoes were meant to be worn, and Carole didn't mind it.
After Lora slipped off her shoes, their Australian Shepard Max came happily to greet her by hopping in place with his paws on her lap. His slightly overgrown claws tapped against the hardwood floors, beckoning their Norwegian Forest cat Mademoiselle to come strolling in behind him. The orange ball of fluff was purring like a running engine.
"Hello munchkins." Lora giggled, petting them both as she crouched in front of the closed door. She made a mental note to trim both of their nails and got up to head to the kitchen. Her footsteps were muffled by her thick tube socks as she reached the fridge, pouring herself a glass of water to quench her thirst. She drank it hungrily, setting the glass on the island and stepping into the parlor.
From the outside, their house looked like any regular ranch-style home, but from the inside, it felt more like a log cabin. There were wooden walls, wooden floors, and a wooden ceiling. And you can't forget the giant fireplace complete with fluffy fur rugs. Carole wanted it to feel warm and safe — like an escape from the hectic concrete jungle only a forty minute drive away.
Lora opened the parlor window, enjoying the intoxicating smell of earth and rain. She could vaguely hear rhythmic notes chiming from the music room located downstairs, so she elected to take a shower and leave Carole to her writing. She probably didn't even hear her come in.
The ebony-haired girl took a long and relaxing shower, washing her early run morning out of her hair and off of her skin. She was a track runner set to compete nationally towards the end of that year, so early morning practice was a must. The girl threw on a pair of terry shorts and an oversized tee, stepping into her fuzzy house slippers as she ran a brush through her silky, dark tresses.
