foolproof method of flirting: lean over the counter, bat your eyelashes as you seductively take a sip of your coffee, accidentally slosh part of the boiling-hot coffee out of the cup, and try to keep a straight face even though you can already feel the 1st degree burns forming on your hand
She fights for power. For the right to be heard. Painted lips pull back to reveal a jaw of dazzling teeth, words snarled as she defies her peers, her teachers, her parents. She strives to make them all tremble, to remind them of what can be achieved should you shake off the expectations of others. Hackles raised, prey becomes caught in the sight of eyes so dark and deep that they seem to swallow you whole, even from the end of the empty school corridor. In her vocabulary the word hunt does not mean to pursue for sport, not like the football team with their brutish strength and ungraceful nature, but instead to seek what is yours, to snatch it fiercely and with elegance from those who dare say otherwise. But under the gentlest of smiles and the squeeze of a silky hand, she becomes soft. A protector; licking the wounds of her pride - the lionesses who stand at her side and chew hungrily at tasteless bubblegum. The world is theirs.
Her voice shakes but it is not due to nerves, fingers trembling with some great anticipation. Spoken words seem to mimic those of others, echoing great speeches of the past and even those yet to come. The ground seems to open up at her feet, giant cracks breaking through concrete. She tilts her head and smiles, leaning towards the sun.
She is the desert sand, hot and dry and impossible to shake out. Everything is done in a rush, messily, without much thought, as if rushing to beat an unknown ultimatum. She is sharp too, her words the sort that don’t hurt straight away but will leave you laying awake in bed all night replaying them in your head. School means very little to girls like her, it is simply an obstacle in the way of her bid for greatness, a war against rules and regulations of which she is determined to win.
I don't cry everyday anymore because of you. I had major issues with my true self and I have learned to accept and love myself so much! And for that, I want to say thank you! I appreciate you so much!💙
hey im the anon who asked for the abuse story and I just wanted to write you and say how much it meant to me, you really didn't have to go to the trouble of writing something so long and it really got me through this day. thank you, ilysm
KARA FINDING SHY S/O WHO IS HAVING A BREAKDOWN AND HIS REACTION AND WHAT HE DOES AND FLUFF PLZ LMAO IM HAVIN A BAD DAY AND ILY BLESS YOU YOU ARE SO GREAT I L Y S M
Ah, thank you so much! ~Mod Mattie
Karamatsu wasn’t expecting to be stood up for his date.
Did [Name] forget? Were they not feeling well? These thoughts plagued Karamatsu until he finally decided to go to their house and knock on the door.
He was distraught when he didn’t hear any footsteps walking over to open the door. Sure, [Name] wasn’t the most social person, but they never seemed to have too much of a problem with him. Were they mad at him? Did he do something wrong? He checked the door knob to see if it was locked, and it wasn’t - which, considering [Name], was odd; they liked their private moments and made sure to almost always lock the door when they were alone. Karamatsu was now extremely worried - what was up with [Name]?
He looked all around their house for any trace of his other half; however, his efforts were futile, and they were nowhere to be found. Karamatsu was on the verge of panicking by now. How was he supposed to help his lover if he couldn’t find them?!
That was, until he heard a quiet sob.
Karamatsu immediately ran down the hallway to the room where he thought he heard it come from, to which he was met by what appeared to be nothing. He heard a sniff again, but it sounded like it was trying to stay quiet and go unnoticed. He walked over to the closet and opened it, inside was a shaking ball of blankets. Karamatsu felt concern for his lover bubble up inside of him as he crouched down and placed a loving hand on them. They tensed up underneath his touch, wanting to be left alone, but Karamatsu was having none of that.
“My [Name], what’s wrong? Why would a beautiful face such as yours be crying?”
They tried to hide more, tucking themselves further and further into the ball of blankets they had surrounded themselves in. Karamatsu’s eyebrows scrunched in concern. Why wouldn’t they tell him what was wrong? He wrapped his arms around the mass of fabric and held it closely, humming softly to the person held within.
“Do you wanna talk about it?”
“Hnm-mm.” That hummed solmemnly, scrunching tighter.
“That’s fine, my love. Do you, uh, wanna cuddle?”
They shifted a bit, but relaxed and hummed. Karamatsu got into a position where he could wrap his entire body around them. Even though his voice didn’t show it too obviously, he was probably just as flustered, if not more than his significant other. He rocked them back and forth lightly as he continued to hum the song from earlier.
“I’m sorry you’re not feeling okay.”
“Is there anything else I can do to help?”
Eventually, the ball wasn’t tight, and soft snores could be heard from inside the blanket cocoon. Karamatsu had also fallen asleep as well, his head resting on what one could only assume to be the crook of their neck. All was good.
I wish to conquer this whole town, she whispers, head filled with impossible dreams that everyone knows she will make a reality. They nod in silent awe and offer up bloody palms, a pact of sorts. She walks ahead of her girls with a cocky stride and a tight-lipped half smile which tugs at one corner of her lips, curling into a snarl when she catches sight of rival school students. A war begins on these streets, paving stones claiming scraped knees and a smear of lip gloss left upon raw brick.
She is the endless cycle of trends, ever ahead of everyone else when it comes to fashion. Reinventing herself, striving for perfection, she alters her appearance with a flick of eyeliner or a fresh bottle of hair dye. Some days she is quiet and peaceful, others days she is frantic and passionate. A glimmer of light resides constantly in her eyes, the scent of something fresh clinging to her skin. All must be in its place, all must be correct. She smooths down the front of her friends shirt, wipes a smudge of pen ink from another’s face. Someone in the corridor complains sadly about messing up their current assignment. Don’t worry, she reassures them. Just begin again.