#violaflos

✄ for hateful kiss — gonna make you feel the scorn okay?!

It wasn’t a kiss, not really. There were teeth hidden behind strawberry-red lips and he only realised her intent when he tasted copper in the lining of his mouth, felt the curve of her smile and knew she meant for him to bleed. She didn’t stop after that one bite, pressed forward armed with her sharp, sharp teeth as if she wanted to devour him whole. It was hate and disgust and everything ugly rolled up in one bruising collision, the beginning of a trainwreck and he accepted everything she offered because he deserved this.

He deserved much worse.

She took a step back after what felt like an eternity, golden hair in disarray and eyes mirroring the promise of destruction. 

Exhaling through her nose, Ino found herself leaning up and pressing a few kisses to his cheek before nuzzling his jawline. "Come here," She mumbled a bit quietly while opening her arms up to him -- if he so wished to use her as comfort.

     He feels her there, can smell the delicate scent of flowers close-by, but he's not really paying attention. When she speaks, he blinks out of a daze, glancing down toward her open arms.

     There's hesitation; he doesn't need coddling but he wonders if that's what Ino's trying to do at all. He doesn't really know what she wants, he's never known but that's kind of the beauty of it all. The hand over her hair moves to cradle under her shoulders, pulling up just as he curls over, pressing his face flush into her collarbones.

For just a moment, his brows furrowed in mild frustration when he didn't see right away who the 'culprit' had been. Ready to grumble at them, he turned his head, only to spot Ino.

He opened his mouth, ready to ask her what was wrong, if she needed something, or anything of that sort—only to close it soon after, finding himself unable to think of a proper verbal response.

(And really, was there anything that needed to be said right then and there?)

Rather than speaking, he simply raised a hand and gently patted her on the shoulder in response, leaning over for just a moment to pull her into a quick hug.

She was a smart girl, she always had been, and they both knew nothing needed to be said out loud just yet if she wasn't ready.

Chouza had long since made it clear that if she ever wanted to talk about her dad—whether it was in general, venting about how hurt she was that he wasn't around anymore, or anything of the sort...