#ombree:lifetimes

[ombreecha]

Wild

Series: Lifetimes Fandom: Naruto Pairing: SasuSaku Rated: M Prompt: Halloween x College Note: Continuation of Ten Shades of Red, Definitely, Someone Else , and Classic Mind, and So Fine.  Love me some goddamn College AU.

His fingers fumble with the buttons of the tacky and cheap fabric. Subtle glances go upon the mirror and as he’s shifting it together he can’t help but grimace. He’s not one for parties and he’s not one for social drinking, but she had asked him to go. Who was he to tell her no?

The way she had brushed a lock of that pale pink back and the way her eyes had skimmed across his face as she proposed going to a Halloween party had coaxed him forward, and the wildest of thoughts about what she’d wear had been tempting enough to make him agree.

The loudest of snorts falls. He has dabbled in curiosity leading up to this moment. She won’t dare a whisper nor a hint of what she intends to wear—and it’s killing him if he’s being honest.

They’re still not together—her confession isn’t on deaf ears though. He’s considered it. He’s contemplated it. He’s dabbled in it.

He just hasn’t seized it. Why is the bigger question.

He can literally reach out and touch it but there’s a definite hesitation. He’s not considering anyone but her and she doesn’t appear to have her eyes on someone else either—someone else didn’t get a confession he did.

Clearing his throat has him glancing at the ridiculous police officer costume he’s daring to walk out of his apartment in. There’s no stopping the thought that he looks like a cheap imitation of his father, and that has him humming in disapproval.

He can guarantee even as he slides the ridiculous hat on his head that she’ll produce that dusty pink he enjoys so much. Taking the time to contemplate their relationship is useless right now—he’s far to curious in seeing what she’s chosen to wear.

The jingle of keys comes as he slides them across the table and grabs a hold of a black leather jacket at the doorway.

The drive is quiet with his stereo turned down. The closer he gets the wilder his thoughts shift. There’s the reminder he shouldn’t let himself get too wrapped up in it—a sexy nurse would be nice though.

She is a pre-med student after all.

This is Sakura though, and the instant thought of her being covered from head to toe is also a probability. She enjoys thrillers. What if she wears something tattered and torn—oh god, there goes the possibility of not having risqué expectations.

He’s not doing himself any favors.

Parking before her dorm only seeks to make him bite his bottom lip before sending the text.

They’re not together. He hasn’t answered her feelings just yet. They can handle that soon enough. They’re just two friends going to a college party. Just friends—because he won’t step over the line.

The movement at the doors has his eyes sliding off his phone and swinging the drive door open. There’s a dryness to his mouth, and the subconscious lick of his upper lip as if that’ll fix the problem.

A shift of his gaze and he’s caught the stares. He doesn’t blame them—this twoman over twenty wouldn’t possibility notice the head turns.

She’s too busy trying to look confident.

They’re entirely warranted. Reality was better than imagination. It’s not a sexy nurse, and it’s not her clad from head to toe. It’s something just as nice as a nurse but not as risqué as ones he had considered.

The way those opaque tights hug her legs—wait, are they tights or are they thigh highs? That exposed collar bone and tight corset of black has his eyes roaming—is this the first time she’s worn something that low in front of him? The sway of that orange and black mesh skirt—she has to be wearing thigh highs with what that skirt gives away.

That hat on her head is adorable and the only thing that tells him she’s dressed as a witch. It’s risqué but it isn’t overdone. It isn’t too much.

He’s yet to say a word as she’s standing before him. Gloved hands of black up to her elbows fidgeting in front of her has him swallowing. Even in heels she’s smaller than him. He’s not complaining but that view of her cleavage is a lot as he stares down at her.  

“You should have stayed in the car—everyone’s gawking at you.” it's a muffled whine between the two of them and god is this woman wild.

She’s absolutely wild for thinking someone is staring at him and not at her, and she’s definitely off the mark for being as smart as she is.

The press of his fingers upon her back slide down as he walks her to the passenger side. The train of mesh is not a negative as he helps her in. It’s got him feeling warm as his eyes trail over her legs, and enjoying that infamous soft thank you even more.

He’s of classic mind, and she looks so fine in her little witch getup. He likes it—oh god, does he like it.

Her shoulders have washed away their tension now that they’re in the car and headed out. He’s half hearing what she’s saying and giving the barest of responses as he swindles and steals looks upon her.

That dusty pink has yet to leave her cheeks, and that’s got the ghost of a smirk upon the corners of his lips.

Parking within the yard of the host’s home is not as bad as he expected it to be, but the hordes of people trailing at the entrance has him taking in a breath. Her movements are soft but laced in nervousness.

“Oh god—I shouldn’t have worn this.” the way her cheeks fill with air in her childishness is one he’s seen one to many times.

It amuses him just as it always has as he exits the car and begins sliding off his leather jacket laying it upon his arm and opening the passenger seat.

She’s gained the habit of holding out her hand and he takes it gingerly as he’s been taught well before now. Helping her out of the car earns him that soft thank you—will there ever be a time when she doesn’t give them?

Sliding the jacket upon her shoulders earns him those pale green and it’s a dip of his head to her ear that has him finally letting that grin escape from just the corners, “I definitely think you should have worn this.”

There’s a subtle shake to her with him humming against her ear and pulling back grants him a deeper dusty shade of pink upon her.

This party is all that he knows it would be as they enter. It’s warm with the mass of bodies, and it’s loud with the blaring music.

The wide doe eyes she’s painted in furthers his amusement as they make their way through. The loud squeal of the blonde is what he expects and is barely overpowered by the speakers. There’s cups within their hands immediately and the scent of smoke, and sweat that hangs in the air as they go deeper within the house.

They could be at home watching another one of her favorite thrillers—but he’s not complaining as his eyes follow her. She’s gone one minute and back the next in repeated fashion.

The forceful hand against his back has him turning and it’s no surprise there’s a blonde behind him filled with impishness, “Imagine you at a party of all things.”

It’s only a moment before his eyes are back upon her. A sip of the spiked Gatorade follows along with a roll of his shoulders in response.

“So, ya lock that in yet?”

“Did your mother pick out your costume?” his witticism is in full effect.

There’s an obvious pause from the blonde and then the pinch of those blonde brows, “What do you mean? I look cool!” there’s a ridiculous amount of pride as the blonde puffs out his chest dawned as a gladiator—the blonde has clearly had his share of alcohol if the scent of booze was any indicator.

He has little to no desire to discuss his hesitation to step over that line with him. He reminds himself it’s not that he’s against it—maybe it’s the fact he’s severely overthinking it.

“Besides, who dressed you? You look like your damn dad.” the howl the blonde lets out awards him a shift of eyes and a twitch of his mouth.

The drag of his tongue upon the top of his teeth comes, and then the sip of his drink fills his mouth. There’s no missing the heads that turn and the way they scale up her form. There’s an obvious attempt when a male he’s unfamiliar with gains her attention, and then she’s gone from his view as a girl stands in front of him.

He has zero clue who this girl is, and he isn’t particularly interested in finding out either. His mother raised him to be polite though—and so he answers when it’s necessary. He learns her name and learns she’s studying literature. He listens to her continuing to coax him for a conversation, and watches the way she tries to garner his attention with small touches upon his arm.

A flicker of his obsidian behind her and Sakura’s nowhere to be seen. The blonde next to him is his scapegoat and that’s how he excuses himself with the claim of running out of something to drink.

The amount of people makes maneuvering difficult. From bumping into some and being shoved into others he’s muttered enough apologies for one night. The kitchen is just as packed and the amount of onlookers for the two in the corner making out has him rolling his eyes.

Grabbing more spiked Gatorade comes first, and the whistles and yells echo within the house. The spectacle the two are making of themselves isn’t enough to keep him from searching out the woman of pale pink, and pale green. She’s there on the couch with a new male beside her and her blonde roommate to her right.

He’s barely ready for it when another body slams into his making him spill some of his drink upon his hand and the floor. The loudest of laughs comes and it’s coated in a slurred mess.

It’s enough to grab his attention from her and the newest one to attempt to win her over. He’s not concerned necessarily—it’s gonna take a lot more than that to coax her from his side—but that doesn’t mean he’s not keeping watch.

It’s one more drink after this one, and two hours in. It’s three times as loud as he thought this event would be, and four plastic cups connecting as they go on about the most miscellaneous of things. Five loud yells—he swears someone just did some lame ass attempt at an Indian call—and six glances her way.

He likes this—no, he just likes her. He definitely likes her in that witch getup.

That males shifting closer to her and she’s so naive and unaware at the attention she’s gained as more males have come to sit upon the coffee table. That blonde friend of hers is far too engrossed in whatever their discussing—oh, yeah he should probably pay attention to his own conversation.

The click of fingers has his eyes running back to his own friend dressed as a dog no less. He always knew something was off about—oh fuck, what was this kid’s name? Kiba? They went to middle school together.

“Aye, Uchiha!” the yell is loud and has even grabbed the attention of pale green eyes.

The attempt to take another swig of his drink is halted at the call of his surname. It’s only a moment later that he’s extending his hand out and bumping shoulders with one he knows all too well.

“It’s been a while. I didn’t expect—”

“Yeah, yeah I know. No one expects me to come to these kinds of things.” he’s leaning against the wall and shoving his hand within his pants pocket.

“A cop, though? You look like your father.” there’s the smallest of snickers following it.

“Real funny, Neji.” the snort he lets out is entirely too loud.

“He’s not really here for any other reason than that one over there.” that’s comment is enough to make his head whip to the claim Kiba’s made.

The press of the plastic against his lips is in hopes they’ll leave the subject alone, but this is college, and people are nosy and so when the questions start flowing he immediately shuts it down, “We’re not dating. We’re friends.”

“You seriously gonna look at me at tell me you haven’t—but dude them legs.” the nudge to his shoulder has him having to readjust himself against the wall.

They’re none to prepared when the seven yells to chug fill the house, and eight people come rushing past to see what all the commotion is about. The smaller plastic shot glass being pushed his way has them looking about and throwing it back. Naruto’s come to join them no longer left with the random girl from earlier. It’s been a while since he’s seen them so he’s not complaining.

After all, he’s been filling his time with this girl he calls a friend, and not a girlfriend.

How many drinks is this when another comes within his grasp. Nine? His already feeling decent. There’s that obvious slur to his words, and he’s grabbed at least his ten looks her way. There’s the smallest of smirks hinted upon the corner of his mouth is seeing whatever male that had been seated beside her is gone and a few more girls surround her.

So maybe that’s why when he’s become slightly engrossed in his conversation he’s not ready for her to be standing before him. She’s got the smallest shade of red upon her cheeks—it’s not the ten shades of red he loves on her. It’s different. He thinks he enjoys this regardless.

Whatever conversation they had been having is immediately dead as her fingers press against his chest and all of a sudden he’s caught between staring at those pale green or that more than inviting cleavage.

Did her mouth always look this inviting? God only knows. What he does know is how much he likes this—whatever this is.

There’s no second guessing himself here and now, and he’s pretty sure it’s all because of this liquid courage inside of a red cup that he’s pressing firmly against Naruto’s chest. He doesn’t even care if the blonde’s successfully taken it. All he knows is he’s going to step over that line, and it all starts with his fingers sliding up that neck, and making their way within pale rose-colored strands.

This woman over twenty was far too cute for her own good—tonight she’s more than cute. Tonight she’s aggressive, she’s got some raciness to her, and tonight she’s far bolder than normal.

He’s typically of classic mind, and god, does she look fine—too fine. Tonight’s not typical though, and that’s why he challenges that boldness of hers. That’s also why he’s firm in pressing his mouth to hers and coaxing her own open. He can almost hear the yells that literally explode next to him but he’s far too interested in sliding his tongue into her mouth.

It’s that feeling of her hands reaching up and removing that ridiculous hat off his head that has him aching. She’s definitely just as interested in this as he is.

His mother taught him many things—to be a gentlemen, and to definitely know time place, and occasion. That is the only thing that makes him pull away and grab her hands to stop them from tempting him any further than they already have.

Hot breathed, and a flash of his eyes to one of them—was it Neji, or maybe it was Kiba?

They all look the fucking same who the fuck cares. He’s firm in his grip upon her hand, “Have yourselves a good night.”

Pulling her through is simple enough. He leaves no room for rebuttal before grabbing his jacket and sliding it upon her shoulders. She’s wobbly in her heels and that’s more than enough of an excuse to have him lift her up confirming that, yes, they are in fact thigh highs.

He likes it—oh god, yes, he likes it. He likes her pressed against him even more.

Her arms are tight around his neck as he makes his way with her to his car. He’s buzzed. He’s probably past buzzed and if his mother finds out he’s about to drive while intoxicated she’ll lose it, but who said she has to know this minor detail.

He’s hot blooded right this minute, and that’s all he knows. Who the fuck was he trying to play when he said they were friends.

They’re definitely not friends.

That drive? Who knows. He’s more than pretty sure he parked decently. He didn’t kill them, and that’s what counts. He’ll be pissy about this later. Right now, though, he’s busy. He’s got other things on his mind, and all of those things are her.

God, imagine if she had gone with a sexy nurse. Would he have even made it this deep into the night?

It’s her hand in his and them being far too loud in opening the door. She’s letting out the highest of giggles behind him before he’s dragging her in and lifting her against the door and wrapping those legs where they should be—around his hips with her heels against his ass.

She’s warm for being dressed so risqué. He reminds himself to slow down, and to not be so aggressive, but then she tugs upon his hair and that’s out the window, and set to be reviewed for later. He’s past hormonally charged, and hot blooded especially with that noise she just let out as he presses his lips against her throat.

He likes this witch getup. He’s willing to bet he’ll love it off her too.

It’s all too much as she’s letting out heated breaths and producing the best shudders. Fingers skim over those thigh highs that have had his attention since the beginning of the night. It’s got his blood pumping loud in his ears and a rush of pants escalating from her. She’s pushing and their stumbling back as they make their way through his apartment. Kisses lingering and hands touching—oh god, she just cupped him. Her grip isn’t too tight, and that roll of her palm and brush of her fingers has him letting out his own sounds. The grip upon his door handle from behind him is far too tight as he swings the door open, and that push of hers has them tumbling back upon his bed.

He wants to take this second—this moment—however brief it is to thank god that he left his desk lamp on.

He wants to see her. He wants to see her for just a moment longer in that outfit before he takes it off her.

Air seems nonexistent as she’s on his lap rolling her hips, and that friction has him pulling on the zipper in the back. It’s left her in just that mesh skirt and god is he ready to tear that off her just the same. That  ten shades of red is across her cheeks and while it’s not the same one laced with embarrassment he loves this one even more—does she know what she’s doing to him when she looks at him with half lidded eyes and her mouth parted just slightly?

Her fingers are fumbling with his button, and if he wasn’t too busy running his hands up her thighs and enjoying the way they feel in his hands he’d help. She’s ripping the gloves off after her failed attempts become too much, and that’s got him pulling the black corset out between them.

Thank you god, and thank you desk lamp. Cause, yes, he does love her out of it.

He loves the way she shivers as his hands run up her skin, and the way her mouth parts with every little noise she makes. They are far too cute—but they’re so much more than cute. They make him lift her up  and his fingers tug upon her skirt. They’re intoxicated and fumbling but that’s not making any of this less exciting as he takes one of breasts into his hand and slide his tongue across her nipple.

Has he mentioned how much he loves the way she’s tugging upon his hair as he takes it into his mouth? He definitely loves that too—those someone elses aren’t causing these reactions. She’s in his apartment, on his lap, and god, she just said his name.

His whole body is peaking at that simple breathless drop of his name. Pulling her upon the bed gives him just the angle he needs to yank that skirt finally from her thighs and toss it across the room. Those pale pink strands are so pretty across her shoulders and back as she keeps herself on all fours looking back at him from. His imagination had been wild leading up to this moment, but they have nothing on this—with her ass in the air and just a simple pair of black panties separating him from where he wants to buried.

He’s more than ready to go as his thumbs hook upon the sides of her panties and then the curiosity grabs his already foggy mind. He only sees the way her pale green widen for a moment before he’s tugging them up and running his tongue against her. Her ass is raising higher to give him better access and he’s loving the way her voice becomes muffled within his sheets. The quake of her legs has him licking harder and faster. Those cries are filling his room, and every little sound is exactly what he wants to hear.

He pauses for just a moment raising up to catch a glimpse of her face pressed against his bed. The halt earns him a frustrated whine and the turn of her head giving him those pale green looking back at him as he runs the back of his hand across his mouth. Just as with that skirt, and corset he wants to see them off her. He doesn’t want to tease her anymore.

Quick and fluid he’s sliding the wet material down and to her knees. He’s about to slide the already unbuttoned shirt off before she lets out another noise full of disapproval.

“Keep it on.” it’s heated and laced in demand.

He wouldn’t have thought her to have a thing for uniforms. For a girl who seemed so innocent she was far from it—he’ll likes that, god, does he like it.

There’s no stopping the harsh swallow that simple request makes him produce, and as a reply he simply bends back down sliding his tongue against her. The slide of his tongue between her folds makes her quake once again. It’s got him hungry and it’s got him wanting more as she fights between raising higher to give him more access and thrusting against his tongue.

Her voice is higher and then he’s all to aware of why. He can’t continue otherwise he’ll go before he’s even begun, and so even when she lets out a whine full of dissatisfaction he can’t help but let out a grin. He loves listening to how pleased she is when he does things to her, and that’s why even though he has to be careful not to lose control he slides his fingers in slow, and deep eliciting the those sounds he loves once again.

The pace he sets is built up. It’s not all at once, and god, she’s just so wet and warm. Oh, yes, he likes this. He loves this. He wants more of this.

He can’t believe he didn’t go over the line before now. There’s no excuse for torturing himself like this.

The light his desk lamp gives off makes him love it even more. It’s just enough to let him see the way she’s gripping his fingers as they pull out and go back in, and that’s enough visual stimulation to make him bite his bottom lip and let out a low groan.

He should have taken her the night he took her to dinner after teaching her how to parallel park. He should have taken her that time in his kitchen when he thought someone else had gained her interest. He should have taken her when he brought her back to his place after she confessed.

He should have. Could have. But he didn’t—he is now, though.

This isn’t how he had foreseen it. This isn’t how he imagined it. But he’s more than okay with it. He’s definitely glad he agreed to go with her to that party.

He can make all the excuses for his hesitation all he wants, but she was definitely his then, and all the times before it if tonight has taught him anything.

The drag of his zipper isn’t heard with the moans she’s letting out with each pump of his fingers. The pull upon his pants doesn’t bring them too low—no, he just lows them as far as necessary so he doesn’t have to stop what he’s doing.

The loss of his fingers inside her makes her push up upon her elbows and push her ass back against him. He can’t help but tease her over such a response, “So impatient.”

He doesn’t even give her the option to respond before sliding gripping himself and begin pushing himself in. It’s just the tip at first as he slides deeper pulling upon her hips to grind deeper and against her. His own shudder is unable to be kept at bay, and there’s no missing the way her voice has become muffled with the help of her hand.

This is where he can’t stop himself. This is where he’s lost himself. He’s firm in his grip upon her hip, and her waist. He loves the way she’s so warm and wet. He loves the way she grips him. He loves the way she—

“Sasuke-kun!”

Oh god, he definitely loves that even more.  

He’s trying to remember to be easy with her, but then he thrusts harder, and hits inside her deeper. He had liked the way it looked as his fingers went in and out of her. He loves the way it looks when he slides out nice and slow slick with her before pushing himself back in to enjoy all that warmth.

He barely picks up on his own voice joining her own, or in the way he’s building up speed. He’s overcome with those wonderful wet sounds coming with every thrust. Harsh and deep he’s slamming against her.

Fuck—is there anything he doesn’t love about her in this moment?

Even the way those pale pink slide and move with each thrust has him reeling, and so close to the edge.  The way her hips buckle and she’s pressed against the bed doesn’t halt him in the slightest. Deeper, and deeper. Harder, and harder. Faster, and faster. That’s all he can think.

She’s that ten shades of red he loves. She’s definitely has always been his. She’s never been someone else’s. She’s a classic, and far too fine to not be his.

He wants to hear the way she comes. He wants that hand off her mouth, and that’s exactly what he’s going for when he presses his cheek against hers and groans in her ear. That hand falls away from her mouth allowing her fingers to curl against his pillow and then it’s one thrust, two hot breaths, three begs, four high pitched whimpers, and on thrust five she’s over the edge and tight upon him.

On six he becomes more than determined, and on seven he’s pressing kisses against her ear. Eight makes it’s way hard, and with the ninth he feels himself tumbling over the edge. Ten comes in deep and it’s here he loses himself.

There’s no stopping the way he moans out her name deep, hot, and exhausted. His release is done with the hard press against her as he rocks himself empty inside her. Their covered in sweat, and the scent of sex has soaked the room.

Sluggish and slightly off balance he’s raising trying in vain to catch his breath. She’s in no better shape with the way her lids slowly lift. He’ll clean them up later. He’ll do a lot of things later.

All he’s concerned about right this minute is wrapping his arms around her and them sleeping off the booze. Pulling the comforter out from them has them fumbling before sliding under it. Those arms of hers comes around his waist, and his around her shoulder. He’s definitely more sober than when they started. That scent of vanilla comes with him pressing his nose within her hair.

The smallest of yawns escapes him and he barely has time to note how she’s fallen asleep already.

Lids fluttering down and then when they finally raise again his apartment is flooded with light from the window. He wants to get up and close the curtains but there’s a weight upon his shoulder and it’s slightly uncomfortable—no, it’s definitely uncomfortable, and made his shoulder numb.

A glance down makes it suddenly clear why and then there’s a flutter of his heartbeat. Swallowing thickly he’s trying to place it all together, and it doesn’t take much. He remembers the way he had pounded her into his bed, and the way she cried his name out. He feels his cheeks warm at the thought.

Slowly he eases himself out from under her noting her scattered clothing and realizing he’s still in this ridiculous outfit. His throat feels rough, and the first thing he needs to do right now is get some coffee. He can do this. It’s not like he hadn’t considered it.

Grabbing his glasses from the desk he makes quick work of grabbing a shirt, and sweat pants. Down the hall and into the kitchen he runs a hand through his hair. Fumbling around in the kitchen it’s barely a thought to grab the pancake mix from the cupboard. He’s not complaining about what happened. He’s more than pleased with himself. Clearing his throat he gets the keurig started and their coffee ready.

She’ll want milk with her coffee—if he threw in some chocolate syrup would that make it that mocha she buys when they go to that little cafe? He doesn’t know but at this point he’ll give it a shot. It can’t be that difficult.

His coffee is made first as he works on getting the pancakes ready. The slow way in which he moves makes it clear he’s tired, but again he’s not complaining. Looking back on what he does remember he’s beyond pleased. That flushed face, and those sounds. He feels hot again, and he needs to think of anything other than the way he made her quake beneath him as he filled her up.

Fuck—that’s not how you do that.

A noise grabs his attention, and he swears to god he almost swallowed his tongue. Turning slowly there’s no missing her face in those ten shades of red he just loves. She’s gotten one of his shirts out from his closet, and god, has he mentioned how much he loves her in them?

This is what he had been hesitant about. He didn’t want things to become awkward between them. He didn’t want her feeling embarrassed or out of place. A deep inhale has him settling his own nerves as he stands there with a spatula in one hand and the other on the handle of the pan.

Opening his mouth he immediately closes it. Turning back around he flips the pancake over before grabbing her cup from under the keurig. They don’t speak a word as he pours the milk, and syrup into the cup being sure to stir it thoroughly. She’s made her way to the pan and kept her eyes on the food and it’s here and now he knows he needs to break the silence and ease some of her embarrassment.

He’s extending the cup and then he sees the way she’s got her eyes looking upon the floor about to take it from him. That’s more than enough for him. He’s not sure what she thinks but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t find out.

The cup never makes it to her hands as he places it on the counter and then he’s lifting her up with a startled noise falling from her lips as he sits her on the counter. That subconscious habit of licking her bottom lip is not helping right this second—what if she—no, no, focus.

He was so sure last night she was his. He’s not so sure right now and that takes priority.

Clearing his throat he gains her eyes back on him. He’s quiet in his grip of the coffee cup and bringing it back to her hands. That infamous soft thank you falls between them and that helps to ease his nerves.

He only turns briefly to switch out the pancake so it doesn’t burn, and start the next before giving her his attention once more. There’s a soft swing to her legs as she sits there sipping her coffee. Her eyes have yet to leave him.

Standing comfortably between them he’s got his hands firm upon the counter as he brings his face closer to her. It’s enough to get her lower the cup to her lap. There’s no missing the way she swallows.

“Sasuke-kun.”

He only lets out that habitual noise in response. He’s interested to see where she takes this.

“I like you.” her voice sounds so small in that moment, and that’s enough to remind him that, yes, she is definitely his.

The smallest of grins sits upon the corners of his mouth as his own voice finally comes out with the low hum behind it, “Ah—do you?”

That habit of slicking her upper lip happens once again at his response, and that’s what he takes as a sign to let his hands make their way to her thighs and press his lips to hers. It’s nothing like last night. It’s not as firm or challenging.

This woman over twenty was far too cute for her own good, and perhaps that’s how she got him wrapped around her finger the way she does.

Her arms have made themselves around his neck. He has no clue where she’s put her coffee cup, and he doesn’t honestly care. When they pull apart she’s still wearing those ten shades of red he loves—he thinks a few more shades have shown themselves, though.

“Do you want chocolate syrup on your pancakes?” it’s just a breath between them, and then she’s got that smile blossoming across her face.

“Yes, please.”

They’re definitely together.

[ombreecha]

Annoying

Series: Lifetimes Fandom: Naruto Pairing: SasuSaku Rated: T Prompt: who the fuck cares—continuation of Pretty p.s I may have been listening to dis sweet ass OVERWERK Daft Punk Anthology remix while writing this #omfgkillmeplease #refusetoconfirmordenyit #weallknowiwasOTL p.s.s Ceejles bomb art is to blame for this

The temperature is changing and the colder it gets the more he despises his commute to work. The huff he’s letting out is visible for just moments before disappearing. He’s later than he normally is with the holiday season coming in and there’s no doubt she’d be up and getting ready for class.

He doesn’t see her as often as one would expect—they’re on completely different schedules.

Months ago Naruto had come upon his door step asking for the favor of a lifetime. He had asked him to let this complete stranger move into his home with a cat no less.

He had pegged her as absolute trouble. He had been right. She’s not a bad kind of trouble, but she’s trouble nonetheless.

Steps crunching in snow and his wad of money tucked deep within his apron. That last customer just wouldn’t leave. That customer was the bad kind of trouble. Smitten with his looks and an immunity to alcohol like no other—it was beyond annoying.

The twist of his door knob has him rolling his shoulders and shrugging off his winter jacket. The lights are off and it’s with a yawn escaping that he’s leaving his shoes at the door way and making his way down the hall. Fingers work upon the aprons knot and the ball of fur upon his feet is almost comforting at this point. The nuzzle against his leg signals the end of the second roommate he had been completely unaware of as it saunters its way down the hall. He’d find it odd at this stage if her cat wasn’t greeting him.

Apron discarded upon the table and keys following come in. A shower is all he seeks to warm himself before he crawls deep within the comforter. Footsteps heavy against the wood flooring and the turn of the door knob. His brains completely shut itself down as he scratches at his stomach from underneath his shirt blankly taking in this woman of trouble clad in one of his many towels bent over the counter and brushing her teeth. The slowest of movements comes with his intrusion as they make eye contact with each other in the mirror. His eyes are the first to leave slowly trailing down her—

“You’re home late.” she’s muffled with her tooth brush deep inside her mouth as she looks over her shoulder at him.

He doesn’t walk in on her usually. He can’t even begin to process how this is going to go down.

It’s eight in the morning and all he cares about is getting his long awaited shower and nuzzling deep within his comforter—her cat is absolutely going to join him.

He’s started leaving his door cracked for that exact reason. This woman can’t be normal.

Wouldn’t most women be screaming at someone just walking in?

Why is his shirt half way up? Oh that’s right he was scratching his stomach before he found himself hazily staring her down in just a towel. Has he even looked at her face?

No. He definitely isn’t looking at her face. He’s looking at her—

A hum is falling from him in the realization, and his lips are moving without even so much as a thought, “Take your time.”

Their roommates no longer strangers. It’s inappropriate to stand here any longer and take in this girl he’s still figuring out like this. It’s been months since she’s moved in. He’s not complaining at the sight. He’s far from complaining and that’s the issue here.

Cause she’s absolute trouble.

He’s finally dug his hand out from under his shirt as he sits on the living room couch barely awake, and barely aware of the cat that’s sitting upon his lap letting out the lightest and steadiest of purrs. The hand on his shoulder has him jumping at the touch and his eyes opening and seeing a pair of vibrant viridian gazing back down at him.

“I’m headed to class. Go grab your shower, Sasuke-kun.” she’s whispering as if it’ll wake him up more than her touch already has.

Lose pale rose not held back by a braid are still wet and tickling his cheek. She’s far to close—she has no concept of personal space he swears to god, but just as quickly as their tickling his cheek their gone once again.

Out of the house with a click of the door and he’s sitting there suddenly all too aware of him passing out on the couch. The scoop of the animal is lazy but doesn’t cause a fuss. She had claimed Dorie was well behaved, and she hadn’t lied. Another yawn uncontrolled and he’s completely dismissing the bath. His beds waiting and Dorie is more than ready for a nap.

A shift of the comforter and a stretch upon the bed before he’s finally pressing his head deep upon the pillow. There’s the smallest of thoughts to place his phone on the charger but its dismissed a second later. Sleep is all that matters.

And, god was her ass nice. Ugh—she’s annoying.

The hours are there, and then he feels himself shifting just slightly catching on quickly there’s something between his legs upon the comforter. The cat hasn’t left him, and so as he reaches for his phone and pulls it from his work pants he barely questions anything. He doesn’t feel like he’s slept long, but the blinding light from his screen says otherwise. It’s two in the afternoon, and if he’s figured out her schedule as much as he thinks he has he knows she’ll be home from class shortly.

Pushing up on his forearms he’s reaching for the charger he had neglected to use. He’ll need it charged for work, and that shower he had intended to take absolutely is a need now. Sliding his legs around the cat comes, and it’s only moments later that he sees it’s back is humped up as he stretches and lets out its own yawn.

Head under the shower head, and body warmed by the hot water he feels himself relax and the grogginess of sleep washing off the longer he stands there. Lather, rinse, repeat before he’s shutting the water off and stepping out onto the mat. Another yawn comes but it’s not the same as those that had come right after work.

It’s as he’s changing that he hears her call announcing she’s home, and only a bit more before he’s walking out in a fresh pair of sweats and a hoodie. He’s far from put together but he’s got a bit longer to relax before he needs to head out and he’ll take a moment to enjoy some coffee.

He hasn’t spared her a glance. This is how they’ve been since she moved in. It’s not always silent. They speak decently to one another, but they don’t go out of their way to interrupt the other’s routine. The burning sensation from his mug feels good against his finger tips as he tilts the coffee pot over to pour what he essentially considers crack in a cup.

He doesn’t need his hood up but it makes him feel warmer. Their heat is on, and she’s good about not touching the thermostat—he’s pretty sure it’s more about the fact nothing seems to disturb this woman. He’s never really seen her bundle up in their home, and that’s good enough for him.

Steps soft he’s coming around the sofa with his crack in a cup in hand. Nestling into the couch it’s a quick glance at her sitting on the opposite side. There’s the sudden realization she’s wears glasses—does that mean she wears contacts? Then there’s the sudden dip of his eyes that grazes her cleavage in that definitely out of season red tank top.

Did tank tops usually dip that far? Since when did they—

Oh, no he’s ogling his roommate of all people. This has to stop.

His eyes flicker to the turned off television and then the feeling of something small and warm upon his lap follows it. Fingers brush against the cats head and it’s purrs are the only thing filling this room. Perhaps she has the right idea. Out of season or not this hoodie feels far too warm all of sudden.

He’s blaming it on work, and lack of sleep mentally, but then his eyes are trailing across the coffee table, down to the floor and then following up her exposed leg, and past the brief appearance of light pink shorts mostly hidden by the large college book. The grip upon the handle of his mug tightens as they trail up once again and then there’s the briefest of shifts from her as she props her head against her hand. It’s more than enough to scare him to look away and take one more drink.

Tugging upon the hood his fingers dip within it’s collar giving it the smallest of tugs as if it’ll cool him a bit more. It’s the dead of winter, and yet he’s overheating.

She’s annoying. But, god was the view nice.

His throat constricts, and his cheeks heat in response. Eyes run for the wall—he wants to look anywhere but at her.

Shaking his head he tries to clear it of such indecent thoughts. Leaning forward he watches about shifting the cat too much as he grabs a hold of the remote and turns it on. A click here, and few more there. He has a thing for trashy television, and so when it falls on Judge Judy he feels relief because this will keep him focused on something other than this roommate of his.

His mother taught him better—she’d scold him for such behavior. He’s an adult, and a man though—that’s the lamest of excuses but it sounds nice in his head regardless.

The focus he has on his show keeps him from barely noting the way the couch dips occasionally as she shifts or readjusts. He may have mistakenly caught another glance of her. Bent forward as she scribbled upon a loose piece of paper nonetheless. The clearing of his throat comes after that particular moment. He himself shifts just a bit on the couch as the television regains his attention. Chin against the palm of his hand, and then a bit later the run of his fingers through the back of his head.

It’s all clean and all clear. His wandering mind hasn’t regained control, and then all of a sudden she’s standing up and that isn’t subtle at all. Obsidian immediately move to her and watches the way she lays the large and heavy book upon the coffee table. Her arms are rising and then there’s the tilt upon the balls of her feet. The curve of her back follows and the slow rise of her tank top doesn’t lag behind as she tilts one way, and then the other.

She’s annoying—this woman is annoying. What the fuck.

It’s not a question it’s a statement. Just what the fuck was she doing to him? He didn’t have these issues before he agreed to let her move in and now things feel like their not as simple. This is all he needs to flick the television off and pick the cat up from his lap leaving his coffee mug upon the coffee table. He has to leave for work shortly. There’s no time for this.

She’s not even doing anything. Yet, by god is she annoying.

The switch in clothes comes and the grip upon his apron isn’t all that gentle as he works to tie it together tight. Dorie rubs against his leg just as they had earlier this morning when he had arrived home and then it’s her voice behind him capturing his attention. She’s bending down and scrooping the ball of fur up, “Stay warm, and have a good time at work.”

The blankest of stares is upon his face as he takes in her face and the way her mouth moves. His lips press firmly together, and then shift of his mouth comes. A swallow and finally he answers her, “Ah, yeah.” the nod of his head follows.

Turning he’s grabbing his coat and sliding it on before heading out the door and trekking through the chilled air to begin his evening. Hands stuffed in his coat pockets and chin buried within the collar a huff of frustration leaves him.

Life used to be simple. She’s absolute trouble.

[ombreecha]

Down Below

Series: Lifetimes Fandom: Naruto Pairing: SasuSaku Rated: T Prompt: Pirates and Mermaids

Waters down below and salt within the air. The rolling of the waves against the wood and the shift of the vessel beneath the worn and heavy boots weathered from the sea. Ghosts linger upon the crew’s tongues. Wild tall tales and masts that stand even taller all they know as they sail forward.

He’s done this a long time—long enough to have become crueler with every run in.

Sea serpents challenging within the storm. Kraken awakened and ready to drag them down below. Siren’s coaxing luring them away. Sea beasts employed when they had killed one too many of the Siren. Mermaids—they’re devilfish.

The grind of his teeth comes at such a thought, and yet here they are hunting one.

Guards of the fountain of youth. He doesn’t need more than their tears.

The call of one his crew has him turning and regarding them silently. He’s the captain of this vessel. They’re curious as to what has put them in search of something so dangerous.

This is one of selfish intent—it’s not of their business. They’re his crew. They’ll do as he says.

—Or they’ll find themselves overboard.

A wave of his hand is all he intends to give. He pays them all well enough in the spoils that have come a long the way. There’s a time limit to this journey upon the sea. They have to act quickly. They have no time to take in the feelings of such devilfish.

They’re far from home but it still feels close. His mother awaits back on shores too man miles to count. He’ll bring her the fountain of youth. He’ll help her over come her illnesses or fall into an ambiance of nothing left.

The night is dark but the stars make it easy to know where they’re heading. The city they search for is one that protects these devilfish when they deem it fit to masquerade as humans. Disgusting—they’re regarded as beauties that lure men into their arms only to drag them down below the waters surface. He’ll be damned if he falls for such trickery.

The creak beneath his books comes as he releases his hold upon the edge his ship and makes for his cabin. They’ve got more than enough nights before they’ll dock, and flood their city. Sleep is all that can be done here. The sea is calm and that means the majority of them can rest at ease.

He trusts his men to get them there safe. Under covers and under no light he settled. The map disregarded upon his desk. The shift of the boat beneath him barely felt, and that all too familiar sounds that come with living on waters. They’ve become calming over the years. He’s adjusted so much that sleeping and staying on shore feels off—oddly unsatisfying.

That won’t stop him from returning home.

His mother needs him and he’ll do whatever it takes to bring her the fountain of youth.

He can rid himself of concern once that’s done.

A wink or two is all he’s given before he’s brought about by the sound of thunder, and the light given off by lightning outside. His coat is the last thing as on his mind no less his hat as he shoves off the blankets and makes his way out upon the ship. His men are rushing and frantic to keep their ship from being over turned, and he’s right beside them pulling upon the ropes as they begin to slide back and forth.

Wet and soaked deep down to the bone. The waves come over the side of his ship spilling upon the wood. They’re being tossed so unforgiving, and the only thing they’ve got going for them is the lack of a sea monster. Their hands are tied up enough trying to keep themselves and the ship steady upon such violent waves.

Cracks of lightning don’t make it any less difficult.

One of his men is going over tripping and down below their scream a melody this late in the game. They’ll escape within the dawn—that’s the life they’ve lived.

No one can breath and it’s as the wave comes over that he’s rushing forward to stop another from falling over. He’s their captain and regardless of rumors there is honor among them. His hand’s grabbed a hold of their wrist and there’s the pull of his drenched shirt from behind—but no amount of honor or man power is stopping the wave that towards over them.

Eyes wide and a refusal to let go is what’s going to cost him dearly. His lungs are full and he feels the water rising above his head as he’s been thrown overboard. The crew member he had sought to keep from such fate can’t even be heard as he fights in vain to stay a float.

It’s like the breath before a dive—quick and gone just as fast had it had come.

That crushing sound from the sky above is the only thing he can take it as water comes within his nose. His men are seeking to retrieve them but that won’t be what happens.

There’s something twisting under his arms and around his torso—he’ll be dragged down below.

Fight or flight—he be damned before any of these creatures take him with them within the waters.

If only he could breath has he thrashes back against whatever holds him.

Fingers upon his eyes and that arm tightening around his torso. He’s whipped back and forth and his ship isn’t right before him any more it’s so much further away. It seems they won’t have to cause a ruckus within the city they had sought—a mermaids gone and come to him instead.

This is no time to see this as a victory. They have the upper hand.

He wants that quite silence from deep within his cabin. Yet, he’s twisting and pushing.

Washed away and submerged. That devilfish has lost her hold on him with such force. It’s not enough as the water over takes him and he finally finds some of that quite silence. Underneath such violent waves it’s so much calmer. All that energy, and all that strength is gone as he sinks further below. His hand reaches out as if he can just grab the surface.

Lids flutter down and an unforgivable acceptance comes over him He’s done this for such a long time—too long if he’s being honest.

This is his life though. This is the route he had taken. It’s a fitting end—but a sour one no less.

The fountain of youth wouldn’t come to his hands inside of a watery grave. There’s a terror when you go this far down. It’s dark and deep, and that light from the surface just continues to become dimmer as the body becomes heavier.

His eyes open wide and all it can take in is a bright blue. There’s something within his throat and it’s got him twisting as it constricts and expels the bitter sea water. The hack that comes has his body quaking. His limbs are exhausted and his mind fuzzy and the sea water continues to rise from his stomach.

“You wouldn’t have half of that in your system if you hadn’t fought with me so much.” a shadow follows the voice blowing the sun from him.

Fingers twist within the sand and come between his fingers. It sticks to his skin, and he’s oddly aware of his surroundings and how much him being on a shore doesn’t make sense. A look over his shoulder and all there is, is long pale rose and sea foam green. This woman—no she’s just masquerading before him.

She’ll never be a human. She’ll only be a disgusting imitation.

This creature breaths water, and air—no mere woman does that. They lure men deep into the water and drag them down below.

She will be no different.

Adrenalin has him before and dropping them to the floor. His fingers tight upon her throat, “What’s your game?”

There’s a pause from her—no, it—as if it’s contemplating the answer. They only know how to deceive and trick. Lids with lashes of pale pink dip down. It’s not even trying to fight back even as he sits atop of it aggressive and threatening.

“I’m playing at nothing, Captain.” her voice is tight with so much pressure upon it.

The flex of his fingers has him weary, and then those sea foam green emerge pointedly and unphased by this rough treatment.

“Why save me then?” he pushes down further as if to make a point before release some of the pressure upon her throat, “You obviously know who I am.”

“I’m not employed by the siren.” the response it gives makes him feel like it’s attempt casual conversation as he feels the way it’s throat moves as it swallows, “You’re but a man who had fallen overboard—title and reputation are nothing when you’re drowning.”

There’s a hiss and he’s reapplied the pressure—he would tolerate no such trickery, “Why did you save me?”

Those fingers wrap around his wrist before sliding up through the sand that covers his skin and clothes. He’s not allowing a response and there’s a mild curiosity of what kind of trickery it’ll attempt as it touches him. Those fingers press against his chest almost too comfortably making him release just a bit of the pressure upon her throat once more in wanting to know its response, “It’s better than you finding your end isn’t it?”

There’s a hesitance in what move to make next. This disgusting imitation could have dragged him deep into the water or left him as he slowly fell to the seas bottom—it didn’t.

There’s no explanation truly given with such a response. He knows there has to be some form of deception in this. It’s conjuring it up that has him hesitating. Slowly as if to make it apparent he won’t hesitate to grip her throat once more he releases her throat. Fingers float above it’s throat.

He can see why these creatures can lure men to their depths. Physically it’s ethereal and enticing with such a color palette—but it doesn’t lessen the disgust he feels for such a creature.

They’re dangerous. —but they also guard the fountain of youth.

Carefully he watches as it’s lips turn slowly, “I’m surprised you have so much energy to wrestle in the sand.”

He’s more than waterlogged, and as if because it’s spoken of the aches his muscles feel they make themselves prominent in their pulse. Knee shifting in the sand he’s rising above it. He needs away from it—the more he looks down upon it the more allure he’s finding.

He knows better.

Sitting up it raises it’s hands above their head stretching. The silence between them is thick on his end and almost airy on it’s. Eyes carefully watch as it makes it’s way to the shores edge, “There’s a town not to far from here.” it raises it’s hand within the general direction, “Be sure to be careful next time, Captain Sasuke Uchiha.”

The lowering if it’s lids comes as if to tease him, and then with a shift it’s facing the sea once more. He could stop this mermaid here and now but it would do him no good. There’s no way he could capture a tear in this scenario.

“Your name?” his voice his gruff and his throat burns at the use.

The spin upon it’s feet comes within the sand, “Sakura—safe travels.” a step within the water and then a turn back before it’s diving head first within the waters.

Irritation is bubbling within him at the antics of this mermaid. He’s lost his chance here, but there will be another mermaid after it. This is for the best. He knows what to expect with the next. It had saved him just the same, and so he wouldn’t bring further harm or threat to it.

For it’s own sake it had best never cross paths with him once again. Memaids. They’re truly devilfish.

[ombreecha]

are u going to update Lifetimes ?

Absolutely. I’ve been missing just grabbing a fun prompt and going to town. It lets me do some fun SS fluff or get to dabble in some of that good old SS angst without worrying about them connecting to anything in particular and so it gives me a lot of flexibility I don’t feel like i have right this minute.

thatsnoonesfaultbutmineofcourse

Keep in mind my dude I am always accepting prompts for Lifetimes. I’ve never closed it. Got an idea. Throw it down.I have a few ahead of you but there’s gonna be time soon enough for me to get working on them all.

That SasuSaku College set will live again even if it ends me i swear to fucking god

[ombreecha]

Classic Mind, and So Fine

Series: Lifetimes Fandom: Naruto Pairing: SasuSaku Rated: T Prompt: fic in which sakura gets jealous of sasuke's female friend Idea: Anonymous Note: Someone take this College AU shit from me cause christ. Continuation of Ten Shades of Red, Definitely, and Someone Else

There’s the flicker of her eyes to the wrist watch she always wears. There’s the oddest of feelings in sitting within the fifth floor library. He’s not here in all of his obsidian hair, and obsidian eyes. He’s not here in his hats, and sweatpants. He’s not here in the things she represents with him. There’s no soul upon this fifth floor of the library building on a Friday night.

He’s her kind—classic mind, and he always looks fine in whatever he’s plucked from his closet that morning. There’s the dig for her phone from her bag of brown straps, and red cloth, and the press of her fingers to see if she’s missed a text. He’s never late—he’s punctual. He’s one that keeps her guessing—never waiting. He’s classic mind, and always fine in more than one way.

These walls so filled with seemingly endless knowledge give no comfort. They only seek to remind her how empty this floor is. There had never been a moment since they had met that they did not meet on Friday’s. That odd feeling is swelling, and then she’s scolding herself. One missed meeting wasn’t the end of the world. Her world had been fine before he had participated in her study sessions within this home away from her dorm room. There’s the grip of her laptop from her back and the pinched brows that come. There’s the flicker of her pale green to the staircase awaiting his form to emerge with that lackadaisical look painted across his face. There’s the silence that echos with each action she makes preparing to study.

The distraction that comes with studying is a blessing, and the sound that comes as one chair is slid out, and then two barely grabs her attention. Pale green come with a slow drag from her screen to that of obsidian. He’s all obsidian locks tucked within the white baseball cap, and obsidian eyes looking at someone other than her. Pulled up sleeves of a plum sweatshirt, and there’s no missing him in sweats of black. Moving her head to follow his gaze there’s the slight catch of her oxygen within her throat.

The woman is one of gorgeous vibrant locks of red, and eyes that follow the same shade. She’s pale with in a hint of peach, and glasses to frame her face. There’s a contrast from her girlish features of pale pink, and pale green. There’s that difference in style painstakingly obvious—her choice in a deep muted pink cardigan, black undershirt, black under bust belt, and jeans entirely too girlish compared to the woman adorned in the pulled up sleeves of a tan blazer, white undershirt, and black shorts. This woman of gorgeous red locks looks far more sophisticated, and far more grown up than she could ever hope to be.

There’s the immediate dart of her eyes back to her screen—oh no, she was not going to sit here comparing herself to a girl she knew nothing of—and then a hand curling next to her own upon the table.

“Sakura.” his voice is as smooth, and deep as always as he dips his head down to her blocking her view of the laptop screen, “Sorry I’m late. I had to pick up Karin to help her study.”

There’s the heat upon her cheeks in dusty pink with him so close within her space, “Ah—it’s okay Sasuke-kun!” she’s rushed within her tone and far to loud making her cup her mouth within her hands.

There’s a hint of a grin upon the corners of his lips as he lets out a teasing noise to be quiet before he’s removing himself from her, and sliding within his seat. Pale green look up to watch him bring his things from his messenger bag. There’s a look, and then there’s two, three comes, and then four has her shifting to the gorgeous red head seated beside him. There’s a shared look and there’s no missing the flicker of red to the male of obsidian seated in beside her.

A swallow comes, and there’s the resign to take her eyes back to her screen and distract herself once more within the books and laptop she has open. Fingers grip her cheap pen and begin their scroll across their page never missing the low tone he takes in discussing something about economics, and what chapter they must be on within their textbooks.

His voice is the only constant noise outside of typing, and flips of pages. It’s coaxingly normal, and very much appreciated. She’s falling back within her place barely noticing the red head who’s joined them. There’s the occasional noise from this outsider, and the whispered words that fall from this woman of red that remind her she’s present, and yet she’s drowning her out in favor of the smooth voice that comes from her normal study partner.

He’s her kind—classic mind, and he always looks fine. This boy makes her wanna change—he’s filling her head. That habitual lick across her lip comes and there’s a sudden bout of insecurity that comes as her eyes look fleetingly towards the gorgeous red head. There’s thoughts of if this is the type of girl he was interested in, and curiosity if maybe she should take tips. He’s never spoken of such things to her in all their time together. Could she become the type of girl that sat beside him, and not across?

Lips purse at the continued and unwanted thoughts that seem to only remind her how completely ordinary she appears next to others. There’s a hum upon her lips, and she’s lost in thought. There’s no catch of obsidian, and there’s no catch of vibrant red that look to her. Her eyes are wandering but their not focused on the walls of books. A twitch of her mouth, and another unconscious licks across her bottom lip. There’s the deep inhale at how ridiculous she’s being.

There’s a scold—oh god, they’re not even together, and yet here she is thinking such things—and a twirl of her head at the call of her name.

“Sakura, are we boring you?” he’s low within tone, and one of those eyebrows has raised within his question.

“Oh—ah! No, no, I’m just thinking.” she’s responding quickly stuffing her hands within her lap, “Sorry—I didn’t mean to interrupt.” she’s sure embarrassment has turned her cheeks dusty pink.

He seems far to satisfied at her reaction with the curve of his mouth and that eyebrow still within it’s raised place. He’s given her that habitual noise of a reply that she’s come to love. It’s entirely him, and entirely far too mischievous. The dusty pink is turning a shade darker before another hum leaves his mouth.

“Do you need help?”

“Sasuke you’re supposed to be helping me.” the woman’s voice—he said her name was Karen. . . right?—is definitely displeased and there’s no missing that.

She’s not one for conflict as she waves her hand in front of her face, “Sasuke-kun I’m fine no worries—just a bit distracted. Honest.” she’s not one for conflict if it’s not necessary, and the last thing she needs is conflict with this woman so definitely close.

He’s removed his eyes from her and brought them to the third wheel of their study session, and that’s enough of a queue for her to remove her own from him. She’s reaching back out to the laptop with a tap here, and two taps there. She’s flipping through her tabs to resume what she was working on, but there’s a look here, and two looks there. Three looks comes, and four looks is making her swallow. Four looks—now she’s just being dishonest—and five sets a bout of uncomfortable over her. He’s far too close to the woman of red and he’s got his hand pressed against her seat as he scribbles within a notebook sitting between them.

Oh. He’s ambidextrous—she had never noticed before.

A sixth look comes with hesitation and there’s no missing the woman’s lack of interest in what he’s speaking. Karen—no no, Karen’s not right he said her name was Karin—has her eyes on him and there’s no way she’s going to believe otherwise. There’s no missing the adoring look and that only furthers to distract her more. A thick swallow comes only seconds later—it happens on look number seven if she’s being honest.  This girl is definitely interested in him, but the resounding question that lingers is if he’s interested in her.

There’s a shade that comes across her at a new thought—she had always assumed him single with how much time they had spent together. Her mother had taught her better than to mess with someone in a relationship, and here she’s kissed him on the cheek twice.

There’s a shift of obsidian catching her within her stare—he’s caught her hand not moving on the keyboard, and caught her not scribbling within her own notebook. He’s clearing his throat, and the swallow she makes is thick as she removes her eyes from him with new embarrassment flooding her at being caught staring.

She’s scolding herself again—and man is she doing a lot of that today.

He’s of classic mind so there’s no possible way he’d have let her do that while being in a relationship. He’s always fine so it’s not hard to believe there was more than one girl who had eyes for him. He’s filling her head far more than usual tonight, and that’s an absolute lie but she’s perfectly fine with sitting in denial.

Fingers dig within her hair as she sets to keep herself from staring anymore than she has. There’s thoughts of that time just a few month’s ago when he had cornered her within his small kitchen, and it’s setting her cheeks on fire. She had decided long ago to ignore that as anything more than curiosity. She’s already made a horrible impression on this girl that definitely has interest in this same male, and the last thing she needs to do is allow that voice in her head to further that.

Resigning is all she can do before she’s shutting her laptop closed and flipping her books closed. There’s the pull of her bag as she’s putting things away. His voice has halted in her actions, and she knows obsidian are watching her every move, and yet there’s the mantra to keep herself from looking back—she’s look at him far more than her fair share tonight.

“You’re leaving?” he’s asking finally as she’s raising from her seat.

“I’m hungry.” she’s not lying, but she’s not being exactly honest either.

“Gimme a second to pack up I’ll—”

“No, no. Don’t stop what you’re doing I can grab something in the dorm store.” she’s attempting her best to be reassuring, “I’ll text you?”

“Sakura. I’ll take you out to get food after we drop Karin off.” he’s pushing his seat out, “It’s Friday.”

“Sasuke, I thought we might grab a bite to eat after we were done.” Karin is quick to interject.

There’s a shake of her head and the pull of her bag over her shoulders, “I promise I’ll text you when I get in.” she’s pressing her fingers upon the table, “Have a good night.”

There’s no stopping her feet as she’s rounding the table, and leaving him heading for the stairs. There’s the oddest of feelings thick upon her chest, and it’s one she’s not well acquainted with.

A pull of her phone. A dig for her headphones. A twirl of her hair. A shadow walking home.

The walks not far and the odd feeling is becoming heavier over her. There’s a buzz of her phone within her hand, and the notification that states his name. She’s not reading it till she’s within her room. Those that pass by are those without names. They’re heading somewhere, and she’s heading home where her blonde might possibly await.

Friday’s a blessing, and curse, and this ones far different that what she’s grown used too. Their study session had been more than enough for her for one night. They’re not going for food afterwards, and they’re not going back to her dorm to watch whatever is on late as they lay upon her bed. He was right it’s Friday but it couldn’t be further from the usual.

There’s a huff at the thought and the rubbing of her hands to keep them warm as she’s pulling the door to her dorm. The feeling so odd and different has made her lose her appetite. She’s not feeling the slightest bit hungry.

A whine escapes her as she makes her way up the elevator, and down the hall. A slide of her card and she’s walking in—the blonde’s out and no where to be found, and there’s a certain gratitude for such things. She’s tossed her bag beside her bed, the removal of her headphones, and a seat upon the small carpet right before the television. There’s a flick of a channel, and then a pause as she remembers to text him.

She’s done as she says and the yawn that escapes her as she watches whatever horror flick she’s come across is on the screen. She’s chosen to ignore his question within his text, and she’s pretty sure this is her being petty—there she goes overthinking it.

She’s not sure at what point she’s become so engrossed within her movie she’s missed the fourth and fifth buzz of her phone. It’s most likely her roommate, and that qualifies for none of her attention. It’s on the seven and eighth though that she finally grabs it from her side to see what she could possible need.

She’s blinking once, and then twice, and at three she’s opening her phone—she’s evidently ignored him for too long cause now he’s calling her and there’s a touch of nervousness that settles over her as she answers him.

“Sorry Sasuke-kun, I thought Ino was texting me.”

“I’m outside.” he has a touch of annoyance within his voice.

“You’re outside? What do you mean you’re outside?” she’s questioning if she’s heard him correctly.

“I’ve been outside for about twenty minutes.” his voice gruff within his response, “Are you coming to let me in?”

“Ah! Yes—I’m sorry hold on. I wasn’t expecting you.” she’s raising quickly and rushing out the door, “One second. I’ll be right down.”

There’s no stopping her steps to let him in the door, and hope he’s not too cold with the drop in temperature at night. He’s standing at the door and she’s opening it. He’s entered and he’s not saying a word. The feeling she’s upset him is there, and the urgency to apologize for whatever she’s done to upset him is lingering even more. They’re at her door and she’s reaching in her back pocket—there’s no key she’s locked herself out.

“Ah—I’ve, uh, locked myself. . .out?” she’s slow within the turn of her head and it’s not much sooner he’s cornered her at the door, “Sasuke-kun—”

“What is your deal?” he’s firm within his question, and his brows are pinched.

“Sasuke-kun I must of forgotten to grab—”

“I don’t care about your key. I can easily take you to my place. What was your deal in the library—we always get food, and we definitely hang out after we study.” his lips are pressed firm, and there’s definitely the realization that her early dismissal has upset him.

“Nothing. I just—well you see I didn’t want to butt into you and that girl hanging out?” that odd feeling is washing over her as she plays with her fingers threading them together.

She’s not sure what she’s said exactly to make his brows raise themselves from their only moment ago anger but she’s not complaining either, “Karin’s just a friend.”

“Oh? She likes you a lot. I figured—” she feels embarrassment flooding her as if she needs to explain herself, and she’s sure her cheeks are ten shades of red in these moments.

He’s shaking his head and his fingers cover his mouth as he stares down at her, “Sakura.”

“Yes, Sasuke-kun?” her lips cannot stop themselves from parting in curiosity still adorned in that red.

He’s not answering her immediately letting his eyes move from her and then back once more. There’s the opening of his mouth and then it shuts right after as if he’s reconsidering what he’s about the say. That hand once covering his mouth has moved to grab her hand and pull her along, “We’re going back to my place. I can’t have you sleeping here until your roommate gets back.”

She’s hesitant within her answer, and there’s hope he doesn’t look back to see her face fast passed the red at his hand wrapped around hers. He’s brought her down the hall, and down the elevator making their way to the doors that lead them outside. Hesitation is nonexistent with this male as he’s got her beside him wrapping his arm around her shoulder to shield her from the cool night.

He’s her kind—classic mind, and he looks so fine. He’s getting the door—it’s a silent walk. Who’s the first to speak? She doesn’t know. He’s taking his time working her mind as he seeks to get her food after hearing she hasn’t eaten. The voice in her head is all that she hears feeling a sense of calm come at knowing the gorgeous girl of red is just a friend. He’s not filling her bed—she’ll be filling his instead.

“Sasuke-kun.” she’s burning all the way to the tips of her ears. He’s waiting and she’s taking a shot, and taking a chance, cause this is more than enough to make her make the next move, “I—Well you see. . . I like you.”

He’s not responding but pale green bring themselves with dread to his face. He’s that grin and then she watches as he lets out a hum, “Ah—do you?” he’s teasing her—oh, god he’s teasing her.

She’s ten shades of red, and she’s definitely not wrong—he’s her kind. He’s of classic mind, and looks so fine. He hasn’t been taking someone else to his place in these months. He’s been taking her—and maybe that tease is all she needs to know she may just be his kind.

[ombreecha]

Someone Else

Series: Lifetimes Fandom: Naruto Pairing: SasuSaku Rated: T Prompt: SasuSaku AU with a jealous Sasuke please Idea: Anonymous Note: I absolutely love this College AU set I've done. There hasn't been one I've felt disappointed with, and they are so much fun. Continuation of Ten Shades of Red, and Definitely

The cafe they’ve come to visit every week on Wednesday’s after his Principle of Macroecomonics course is quiet, and calm with only the sound of quiet whispers filling the air. There’s no missing her soft giggles she tries to hold back with pressed lips as her pale green look over her phone. He can’t see what she’s reading but it’s sparking a hint of curiosity throughout him.

She’s been distracted within the recent weeks. They’re still doing their Friday study sessions in the library. They’re still hanging out when their schedules allow. They’re still not together, and they’re still not separate.

That distraction is present though—it’s in the little things she does. It’s in the way she waits for him outside of his class with eyes glued to her screen. It’s in the giggles she’s spilling without an explanation as they’re grabbing a bite to eat. It’s within her pale green eyes as she walks from her dorm to his car. It’s in corners of her lips as her face beams down at her phone. It’s all minor and all little—and almost annoying.

Fingers reach down to cradle his choice of latte macchiato as his obsidian eye her from across the small table she had picked. She’s as cute as she always is in her three quarter length sleeved marble sweater, light gray infinite scarf, and black shorts with lace patterns at the end—there’s never a point when he hasn’t thought she’s cute. There’s another giggle that slips passed her lips and fingers typing away as he brings the macchiato to his lips taking the warm liquid in. She’s not chatting with him but she’s very much chatting away with someone else.

There’s a clearing of his throat after the liquid has slid down warming his insides to gain her attention. The action has done what he’s hoped and brought those pale green upon him and away from her phone. That dusty pink that paints across her cheeks is the very one he enjoys and the very one that brings the hint of a smirk across his own.

Her voice is soft as she sets her phone down and cradles her mocha within her fingers—she likes two extra shots of chocolate in hers, “Sorry. . . have you picked your topic for your economics paper?”

“Ah, I’m doing it on the economic consequences with the increase in endangered biodiversity.” he answers with a hum upon his voice.

She sips upon her cup before giving way to her own hum, “I’ll be curious to see how you present that.” there’s humor upon her lips.

“Are you questioning if I can—” he’s interrupted by the sound of her phone making his eyes gaze upon the screen momentarily forgetting his teasing question.

There’s a name, and there’s a message. There’s only one, and then there’s two. Two becomes three and it’s on that third that she’s swiping her phone open. There’s no missing the messaging screen, and there’s no missing words those small fingers of hers tapping away at a reply he cannot understand. The language is foreign and that’s what makes him raise a brow.

This woman knew a foreign language. Someone else was gaining her attention once again. That hint of curiosity is back, and it’s at another sound of her phone, and what looks to be the loading of a picture that her hand comes down across the screen shielding it from his gaze. There’s an odd feeling that follows and now he feels as though he’s done something wrong in letting his eyes peak at her messages. Obsidian seek to look anywhere but her own and thick swallow follows it.

That curiosity is back and it’s wishing to know what picture was sent her way. That curiosity holds wonder if who she speaks with is a male.

Fingers curl upon his cup with something close to annoyance. They’re not together, but they’re not separate. She’s not his girlfriend, but she was his girl friend. She’s dusted in that pink he enjoys, but he’s not the reason she’s dusted in that pink.

“Why don’t we head to your place? You said you bought a new book you were enjoying right?” her voice is hesitant and holds that touch of shy he likes on her, but isn’t one he’s caused her.

He gives a noise of a response agreeing within his rise from the table. His fingers grip the bill of his washed out blue baseball cap turning it backwards upon his head, and she’s close within his personal space not even moments later clicking the buttons of his baseball jacket of light gray and dimmed black.

She’s chatting with someone else—but she’s standing here in front of him. She’s chatting with someone else—but he’s the one walking behind her to his car. Someone else wasn’t trailing their eyes up her form—those black ankle boots, and legs covered in opaque black tights. Someone else wasn’t opening the door for her—they weren’t receiving those infamous soft thank yous as she sat in the passenger seat.

The drive gives way to her small chatter as she comments on the little things she thinks of. Her fingers play with those rose-colored strands that have grown passed her shoulders. There’s giggles as he hums, and makes a sarcastic remark to something ridiculous she’s said. He thinks he’s heard her phone as he turns a corner, but she’s made no motion to grab it. He thinks he’s misheard it.

He’s overthinking this. He knows he’s overthinking it. He doesn’t even know what exactly he’s overthinking. He’s got that hint of annoyance from something that doesn’t even matter. They’re definitely not together—he scolds himself. They’re definitely not separate—he reminds himself.

Her steps are light behind him as they enter his apartment building. She’s become acquainted with this apartment building well before now. She’s spent time watching movies with him, and not someone else. She’s spent time reading books as he wrote papers instead of spending time with someone else. She’s spent the night adorned in one of his shirts—she’s not wearing someone else’s shirt.

There’s that scold that it doesn’t mean she’s his. There’s that reminder that it doesn’t mean she isn’t his. She takes her scarf off laying it upon the bed as she sits upon his bed looking as his fingers trail upon his shelf to grab the new book she had mentioned. The noise of her phone goes off and he knows here and now he hasn’t misheard the noise. There’s a halt in his pull and then there’s the slow move of his head to look at her. Those pale green are no longer on him they’re on the screen of her phone. There’s the softest of looks upon her face, and then decorates to almost childish amusement.

There’s a tightening of his fingers upon the spine as he pulls it down and a thick swallow to follow it. It’s almost annoying watching those changes in her face. It’s almost annoying watching her fingers click away at the screen’s keyboard as she replies to someone else. It’s almost annoying how she looks up at him with those wide pale green eyes as he holds the book in front of her phone. There’s a moment of quiet. She’s not speaking and neither is she. There’s one second, and then there’s two. Three comes and he can see the tightening of her jaw as she swallows. Four isn’t far behind as her cheeks dust three shades darker in that dusty pink he enjoys.

Small fingers grip the book and take it in hand as he makes his way over to his desk. She’ll be reading for a while and he knows she’ll fill the air with her comments as he works away at his economics paper. There’s the removal of his hat and the removal of his jacket. There’s the grab of his reading glasses and the slide of them upon his face. There’s a hum from her in the air and a smirk playing upon his lips. Obsidian can’t stop their flicker to her between flips of pages, and clicks of his keyboard.

She’s far too cute for a woman over twenty. She’s far too cute with her lips pursed up and her rose-colored locks spilled across his pillow. She’s far too cute but she’s so many other things.

He’s lost within his research, and he’s missed the first noise from her phone. There’s another noise, and he’s missed that one too. The third and the fourth are in the room but he’s too busy to catch them within his typing. It’s that fifth, and the sixth though that he starts to hear. It’s the seventh and the eighth that make him stop mid sentence within his paper. It’s the ninth and the tenth that make his eyes go to her. She’s fallen asleep with his book pressed to her chest. The phone that continued it’s noise and buzz sits beside her lit coaxing his eyes. It’s only a moment—a second if he’s really being honest before he’s sliding out of his chair and leaning over the bed.

She’s far too cute for a woman over twenty. She’s far too cute with her mouth parted slightly, and her fingers curled beside her head. She’s far too cute but she’s so many things. It’s that eleventh noise in the air that makes him turn his attention to the object.

The messages are listed, and they’re still as unreadable as the ones that he had caught within their favorite cafe. They’re still in a language foreign to him that her and this someone else share. There’s the listing that three of them are picture messages, and there’s the desire to know what this someone else felt they needed to share with her.

That odd feeling is washing over him again as he peaks upon her phone. He knows it’s none of his business. He knows this is an invasion of privacy. He knows he shouldn’t be this curious. He knows he’s overthinking it. They’re definitely not together—he scolds himself once more. They’re definitely not separate—he reminds himself once more.

Fingers grip her shoulder softly giving the smallest of shakes to bring her from sleep. There’s a noise far to cute laced in sleep, and there’s the twitch of her fingers as she brings them to rub the sleep from her eyes. The yawn she gives is soft and small and she settles to sit up and clutch the book to her chest in her movements.

“I’ll get you a shirt.” there’s a smirk upon his lips unable to hide in his response as he turns from her to take one from his closet. “I’m sleeping over?” her voice is soaked in her sleepiness.

“Ah, you are.” he holds the smallest humor as he answers.

He’s quick to hand over the wide collared t-shirt of royal blue, and grab his own set of sweats and t-shirt of muted red before heading out the door to get changed and give her the privacy she should have—he’s already crossed enough of those lines today.

The noises from the kitchen are enough to make him wander in and see her bent with her elbows upon the counter. There’s that feeling that’s almost annoyance in seeing her giggling as she types away dressed within the shirt that gives him the smallest peek at her panties of pale green. He doesn’t understand why it’s creeping upon him in these moments. He wants to believe it’s a build up of her constant distraction within the little things leading up to this moment. He wants to believe that it’s not something more than curiosity, and he wants to believe that it’s not as possessive as it feels.

He wants to believe these things and yet here he is pinning her to the counter as he looks over her shoulder. His breath is caressing her ear as he eyes the phone within her hands, “Sakura—who has you so distracted?”

She’s shifted against him and those rose-colored strands tickle against his cheek as she looks to him, “Ah—Well. Sasuke-kun.” there’s hesitance as she responds and then there’s that dusty pink he absolutely enjoys upon her cheeks, “It’s nothing—really nothing important.”

“Nothing important and yet it has you distracted.” he breathes out as the inhale of her vanilla scent fills his nose.

“Ah—well—you see. . .it’s just this friend.” she’s whispering within their close contact with her pale green watching his face decorated in something she wasn’t expecting—what she sees he’s not sure as he’s far to interested in the foreign writing upon her screen.

“This friend speaks a different language?” his fingers tighten upon the edge of the counter, “What does he have to talk about so much?”

“He?” she’s pouting within her response, “He’s a she?”

That is what makes him look from the phone to her with brows pinched in confusion as he lets out his habitual noise response. There’s a blink and then there’s another, “Ah, yes, Sasuke-kun—This is my friend from Germany.”

The blush across her cheeks is deepening as she shifts her weight between her legs. He cannot stop the heat upon his own cheeks, “Ah?” the hum is rough as he swallows now realizing how close he’s put himself to her.

“Yes—we’re discussing—we’re, uh, discussing this series we both like. Here where it says, ‘Die zwei waren in dem Moment so süß!’, she has said something close to ‘Wasn’t that moment between them the cutest?’, and—uh, here where it says, ‘Ich bin so rot geworden’ I wrote, ‘I blushed so hard!’”

“Ah—I—yeah.” a set of his fingers leave the counter as they cover his mouth refusing to look at her with the embarrassment he feels hot upon his face.

Removing himself from her is his first mission, and second is putting some distance between them as he heads for the fridge. He can feel her eyes dancing upon him as he keeps himself within the fridge hoping it will cool the heat that lingers on his cheeks. There’s a forced swallow as he finally comes out from this sad excuse of a hiding spot bringing the ice tea with him.

That aroma of vanilla is all he can breath in as she comes to stand beside him pulling glasses from the cabinet overhead. There’s no words between them as he gets their drinks poured, and there’s no words as they sip upon the ice tea in the awkward and lingering silence. He’s caved and begun to look to her fleetingly, and then there’s that dusty pink upon her cheeks that he enjoys so much that comes over her as she speaks, “Ready for bed?”

There’s that moment of time between them before her feet have her standing in front of him, and a press of those lips of hers upon his cheek. There’s no doubt she’s embarrassed, and while the heat is back upon his own cheeks he cannot help but try to defuse it with a tease to her, “Sakura, what series made you blush?”

There’s a whip of her head and it’s with that ten shades of red painted upon her that he enjoys even more than that dusty pink that he feels himself recovering from what heat she’s put upon his own, “What?”

There’s the knowing that he’s got her within his tease, and he only proceeds to press it further, “What series made you blush so hard?”

Pale green flutter away from him quickly seeking the tile floor of his kitchen, “It—well you see I—” her fingers curl within the hem of his shirt, “It’s World’s Greatest First Love.”

There’s a noise of curiosity that falls from him before she hastily speaks again, “It’s not that great—nothing you would like.” it’s an excuse—and a poor one at that in his books and only makes him note the title to google it later—but he’s already achieved his goal of gaining that pretty shade of red she looks so good in.

It’s him who’s leaving her in the kitchen with the grin across his face now perfectly pale within their normal complexion, and then there’s her feet coming from behind as she goes to follow him to the bedroom.

Her steps are light behind him as they head for the bed. She takes her established place beside the wall. He takes his established place on the other side. She hasn’t lost those ten shades of red. He hasn’t lost that smirk as they get underneath the comforter. She’s more than acquainted with his queen size bed, and not someone else’s. She’s kissed his cheek twice now, and not someone else. She’s had more than enough moments with him, and not someone else. She’s spending the night in one of his shirts—she’s not wearing someone else’s shirt tonight.

There’s no use denying to himself the feeling he had believed to be something almost like annoyance. There’s no use pretending he hadn’t felt the sting of possessive upon him. There’s no use ignoring the jealousy he had felt at her possibly distracted by another male.

They’re definitely not together—but she isn’t someone else’s either. They’re definitely not separate—but she is kinda, sorta, possibly, may be his.

[ombreecha]

I do

Series: Lifetimes Fandom: Naruto Pairing: SasuSaku Rated: T Prompt: I burned so long so quiet you must have wondered if I loved you back. I did, I did, I do.

When she had told him on the phone she had filed for divorce he had not taken her seriously. That was just one of the many mistakes he has made throughout his life. His wife would have never joked about something like that. This woman of pale pink, and pale oceanic green had promised so many things from the start of their relationship to now. She had promised her patience. She had promised her attention. She had promised to always give for better or for worse.

She had not promised to leave, and desert him when the fighting and the arguments became too much to bare. She had not promised to abandon him after tearful screams echoed throughout their home. She had not promised all of which led to the papers that lay neatly upon his kitchen table.

He had not taken her seriously—he should have always taken each argument, teardrop, and shattered voice seriously. He remembered her frustration behind his lackadaisical expression, and his refusal to speak up. He had been to preoccupied under the idea that she would forever stand beside him no matter the strain and frustration it had caused her.

It's here as his fingers run across the papers that would end his marriage that he feels the magnitude of what his world was becoming. He had been gone from her side well before now. He had allowed his work to take him from her. He had allowed himself to create the disconnect that lead to this. He had allowed her to break every promise she had ever made when she said she would be with him until death did they part.

How many times had she tried to reconnect through the simplest of attempts—a text on his phone, a call to his office, an attempt to see him before his next meeting. Fingers found their way to his fringe pulling upon it tenderly letting his lids fall shut as his breath comes from deep within him to settle his frantic heartbeat.

There is the desire to blame it all on her. Yet there was no doubt this was his fault. She had continued to repeatedly give in their marriage—over and over again until there was nothing left of the woman she had been when she walked down that aisle. His phone vibrates within his pocket desperate to bring him from his thoughts that render him trapped within this moment. How many times had he known he needed to be the one apologizing, but let his selfishness keep him from doing so?

She's not even within their apartment and yet he can't help but feel her within every aspect of their home. She was down the hall sitting upon the couch eating ice cream and yelling at the latest episode of one of her favorite dramas, she was within their bedroom reading one of her many large medical books, and she was there smiling at him from the kitchen table as she eats her dinner.

Finding her would be easy if he truly wanted too. There was only one person she continued to turn to within their marriage whenever there was problems. Her blonde best friend surly hated his guts, and was most likely pushing her to go with divorce. Going to the house of her blonde best friend in the middle of the night though would only push her further away. That he was sure of more than anything.

Thoughts of how to salvage his crumbling marriage are what take him to sit exhausted upon the couch within their living room. Loosening his tie only makes him want to sink deeper within the couch as he brings his hands to rest upon his lap with his ebony staring upon the ceiling. What words would he need to find to keep her there? At what point had been too much for his wife? Was it the late nights? Had it been his stubbornness? When had he missed all the signs that she had, had enough?

He knew his marriage had been breaking little by little but there was always the assumption that it would sort itself out. The scowl that sets within his face forces his fingers to come up and pinch his nose. His pocket vibrates once more and it only makes him let out a huff of frustration at who would dare continue to try and gain his attention.

He needed out of this house but unlike her he would not run to his own blonde best friend for comfort. He would not give way to the lingering reality that this was probably unsalvageable after letting his marriage fall so far from his fingers. Sakura never did anything halfheartedly. If she had gone to this point she meant every bit of it, but just the same she should know that he was also never halfhearted and when he had asked her hand he had intended forever.

A groan escapes his lips before forcing himself from the couch and dragging his business jacket close behind him and over his shoulder. Driving would provide some form of release. It would help to settle his mind, and help him think.

It's deep within the night—two in the morning if he's to trust the watch upon his wrist—that he has settled for parking at a random diner. He has no appetite and he has no desire to remove himself from the car. He wonders if all the fears she had were what fears he felt tonight. Did she fear that they had permanently disconnected along this road of life just as he fears they have? Does she fear that he had no desire to spend forever with her just as he felt her desire for divorce claimed she did? Was there fear that he did not love her just as he feared she no longer loved him after gazing upon the divorce paperwork?

Fear—it's drowning him and as it submerges him he can only come up with the most frantic of ideas to piece their marriage back together.

He would beg her at this point. He would do anything she asked. He would give her all that he could. She had known he was not good at conveying things. She had known he was selfish. She had known he was unbelievably thickheaded. She had said yes knowing all of these things, and yet here she was opting out, and that, that right there is what makes him livid, and panicked.

He had loved her. He had wanted her. He still wants her. He still loves her.

He still wants to walk this road of life with her. He still wants to wake up to her cooking them breakfast, and welcoming him home after long hours at the office. He still wants her to be beside him when he wakes up for work. He still wants her to do so much with him.

God—he was so unbelievably selfish. When was the last time he had let her sleep in on her day off? When was the last time he welcomed her home? When was the last time he cooked breakfast, lunch, and dinner for her? When was the last time he picked her up from her shifts at the hospital? When was the last time he came home early from work to surprise her? When was the last time he had done anything for her?

Fingers grip the steering wheel at these thoughts. This is what had left them so broken within their marriage. He was always repeatedly taking everything and never giving back. He cannot contain the anger as he hits his steering wheel with the palm of his hand repeatedly. He could not let her go. There was no other life for him outside of her. He feels the sting within his eyes as they glass over and curses fall from his mouth. His vision is blurring he feels his voice giving way to shuddered breaths.

He needed to clear his head and fast. He could not let himself crumble within his car late at night within the parking lot of some random run down diner.

He does though. He does sits there and he does let out a strangled cry as he digs his fingers within his ebony hair. He does let the anxiety out as his palms press against his eyes. He does let the fear of losing her give way to the grossest of crying sessions within his car.

He doesn't know when the sun started to rise. He doesn't know at what point he stopped crying. He doesn't know when he had wiped his face of it's mixture of snot and tears. He doesn't know at what point his anxiety had taken control and had him driving from the diner. He doesn't even know if she's working as he marches himself in the hospital ignoring her coworkers who greet him. He doesn't even know what he plans to say as he grips the door knob of her office letting himself in without knocking. He doesn't even know what to do when she's standing there startled before him gazing back at him with her oceanic green eyes.

"Sasu—" She might still leave him before the end of this rambling session he's started when cutting her off, but goddammit he won't let her say another word until he's done doing whatever it is he's doing.

"I am selfish. I am the most selfish man on the planet—but Goddammit Sakura how could you possibly think I'd sign those papers. You deserve better. You deserve more than I've ever given you in the nine years we've been together. You deserved better during the first four of them when we dated. You deserved better in the five years that you've been my wife, but goddammit I am a selfish man and I'm not letting you just call it quits on your terms. You promised when you said yes that you would stand beside me. You promised when you said I do that we would be together till we died. You promised you would be there. You lied to me. You fucking lied. You're running from us—from me." he is all hurried and is making no sense and his voice is hoarse and staggering as he sits here yelling at her with his scowl decorating his face, and goddammit he is far from done as she reaches her hand out to him in the distance between them with her wide doe-eyes, "What am I supposed to do if you leave? What am I supposed to do—" he's fallen into pleading, and he knows he's pathetic as his voice gets caught in his throat trying to summon whatever power he has left to hold back tears he thought were long since shed throughout the night within his car.

Those eyes of hers, doe-eyed and wide, are glassed over and he can see the tears threatening to fall. This is just another thing he cannot do right in what little is left of their marriage. He can see her taking in his mess of a state. He knows he can't hide the bags under his eyes, and the red of his whites. He knows she can see his clothes wrinkled upon him—his business jacket is still in the back seat of his car. He knows she can see him pleading before her decorated in anger.

"Sasuke-kun, I didn't—I didn't think you wanted this anymore." her lips are trembling as she gives out the most heavyhearted of voices.

"God—What could possibly have made you think that?" she's let her tears fall, and god he just wants to grab a hold of her, "Why would you think that? How could you think that?" his steps carry him to her lessening the distance between them as he continues to shout at her.

He's weaved his fingers through her hair, and she's wrapped her arms around his neck. Her tears are wetting his neck and disheveled white button up shirt. Her arms are tightening around his neck as he's pressing her, if possible, closer to him. He's chanting every sorry he's ever needed to say for every fight they've ever had. He's whispering every sorry for every missed special occasion, and every time he's ever given her the idea that he didn't want her anymore. He's giving every apology he can think of and he's only hoping this will keep her standing beside him.

No one has dared to interrupt whatever it is they think is happening within her office. He had forgotten to shut the door behind him when he burst into her office. She's resided to shuddered breaths to calm herself within his grasp as they pull only slightly away from each other. They dare not to remove their gazes from each other. He can only press his forehead to hers as he gives soothing rubs to her cheeks.

"I didn't think you loved me—not anymore." she finally whispers in the silent room.

"I did. I did goddammit—No. I do. God, I do." he chants back hurriedly to erase any fear or doubt that could possibly reside within his wife.

He feels her step upon the balls of her feet as she comes closer pressing her lips to his, and he has no intention of letting her lead the way—she's been leading their marriage for far to long. He's tilting his head to gain a better angle as he kisses back. Her fingers have taken hold of his shirt, and he's leading them somewhere. He doesn't have a clue if it's the wall or her desk that she bumps back into. He doesn't frankly care. He doesn't care about anything that isn't her right now.

All at once though it ends, and the silence now is filled with their breathing. He had pushed them to her desk, and his fingers are sprawled along it keeping her right where he wants her as he tries in vain to find oxygen. Her fingers have yet to release him, and he can only pray they don't within her own attempts to steady her breathing. Her forehead comes to his shoulder, and she is tightening her grip within his shirt as her breathing finally starts to slow. It beckons him trail his fingers from the top of her desk to grab a hold of her legs and pull her to sit upon it. His lips find her ear as he continues to give way to his confession that had brought them to this. His marriage had started with this phrase, and he would keep her with this phrase. He would utter it anytime she questioned his love for her. He would whisper it to her at night as she slept beside him. He would chant it as many times as he possibly needed too. He would quell her fears. He would wash away her doubts. He would forever say I do and more if she would keep walking down this road called life with him.

He feels her fingers relax their grip within his repeated words, and it makes panic rise within him and they spill out faster as if it'll keep her from letting him go. He feels his heart squeeze painfully as her fingers let him go, and now she's chanting back to him as those fingers of hers make their way to his face, "I won't go anywhere."

She's repeating it for every I do that falls from him.

"Sakura I've got breakfa—"

They've both been brought to silence at her blonde best friend standing in the doorway with a bag in one hand and cup carrier carrying two cups of coffee in the other. Her blue eyes are eyeing him and it only solidifies the fact that he knows she hates him. There is panic she'll sway his wife from this thing he's doing—whatever it is—and will destroy whatever hope he's gained from her claims to stay with him.

The blonde's brows are pinched together as she spits venom at him, "What are you doing here?"

He doesn't speak unsure of where to go from here. He knows he needs to say something, anything for that matter, to keep this woman from stopping his attempts to save his marriage.

"Ino. Stop." he cannot stop himself from whipping his head to his wife who stares upon her blonde best friend. It only takes moments at his wife's command before the blonde's footsteps are heard. He sees the roll of her eyes, and the scowl upon her own face before being out of sight.

"We need to do this somewhere else. You're going to be late for work, and I have appointments." she sounds pained in these moments.

"I'll be home—I'll be there." he knows there's panic in his voice, and as if to quell it she's running her fingers through his hair.

It's with a nod from her that he finally releases her from upon her desk. She's walking him out the door of the hospital. The silence between them is suffocating, and he doesn't know what to expect and the unknown of that makes him want to refuse to leave her side. As if she knows this though she grasps his hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze before telling him she'll see him at home.

He had loved her. He had wanted her. He still wants her. He still loves her.

He finds those thoughts to be the ones that keep him distracted from his work as he sits at his desk. All who have seen him have darted from his direction. He has straightened his tie out in the parking lot, and he has placed his jacket upon his shoulders hoping to hide his wrinkled shirt. His phone vibrates and it's now that he finally pulls it from his pocket. He has three unread texts. Two are from his blonde best friend, Naruto. One is from his wife. It's no question which one he opens.

Sitting back within his chair he lets out a sigh of relief. Her text is washing away his fear. Her text is echoing within his mind. He can hear her voice as he reads it over and over again.

I love you Sasuke-kun.

His response to the outsider seems completely off the mark, but he knows that she'll understand. He knows she'll see the love behind those two little words that he had said during their wedding. He knows she'll see the love behind those same two words he repeated in her office.

I do.

[ombreecha]

Pretty

Series: Lifetimes Fandom: Naruto Pairing: SasuSaku Rated: T Prompt: friend of a friend needs a place to stay before they get evicted Note: Holy shit, my dudes. I’m so tired, and this is so not good, but I got my second one out for NaNoWriMo. Never work 12-12 and then try to write. I was like dozing in and out of this mess. Fuuuuuu.imsosorry imjustreallystubborn.

He’s not sure what had possessed him to agree to let a stranger into his home—let alone live with him.

Waking up at five in the morning to frantic knocks upon his door had soured his mood. The begs of the blonde hadn’t been what he was expecting when he had opened his door prepared to chew out who had disrupted his sleep. The blonde had been rambling, and decorated in concern when he had pushed his way into the house. There was that habitual need to pace as he went through the motions to explain what had made him come with a favor of a lifetime—so he had called it. There was a friend evidently that was about to be evicted, and needed somewhere to go. Fingers had pulled at the blonde locks giving way to promises that this friend of his would cause him no issues and would only stay until they found a new place to live.

Ah. Never at any point did he explain what this friend had done to be on the verge of eviction.

It had been hard to turn down the blonde in such a state. This was his best friend after all. Wasn’t this what best friends were supposed to do in times like this?

That had been then, and now here he was staring at this woman of pale rose-colored locks, and vibrant viridian in his door way. There’s a touch of shy to her—maybe something closer to nervousness—as she darts her eyes to look anywhere but his own. The dusty pink upon her cheeks leads him to believe maybe it’s not nervousness. Perhaps it’s something closer to embarrassment.

There is a shake to her voice as she stares at the ground before wetting her bottom lip with her tongue, “Excuse me—you’re Naruto’s friend. . .Uchiha-san?”

“I am. Come in.” he makes a motion of his hand stepping aside—his mother would never let him here the end of it if he left a girl in the cold.

She’s soft in her steps and there’s only the slightest hesitation before she’s entering the two bedroom apartment. There’s the realization that at no point had his blonde friend given him the idea she was a woman. There’s the realization that at no point had he asked his friend for more information on who he was letting live within his home.

This is just one of the many mistakes he thinks he’s made within this short span of nine hours. Women were trouble. This woman had to be trouble. There was nothing good that could come from this arrangement.

Those vibrant viridian still have yet to make their way to gaze within his own eyes as she stands within his kitchen fumbling with her fingers and attempting to hide her face within her forest green scarf. The drag of time comes and still neither makes the attempt to speak. He’s leaned himself against his kitchen counter, and there’s the deep inhale he takes as he crosses his arms against his chest digesting her. She’s small—how old was this woman even? She was at least over the age of twenty-one, right?

The more he thinks of these things the more he’s seeing he’s made a grave error in agreeing to let a stranger within his ho—

“My name is Sakura Haruno—I’m twenty-three, and am going to school for nursing. I work at a small coffee shop near the university. Thank you for welcoming me into your home. I apologize for the intrusion.” she’s rushed in her introduction as her fingers squeeze within each other as if to give her the push she needed to finally speak within the silence.

“Ah—Sasuke Uchiha. Twenty-seven. Graduated.” his voice is gruff in response at the awkwardness of this whole situation.

Fingers come up to push a few strands of rose-colored hair behind her ear, “It’s a pleasure to meet you—Naruto talks of you often.”

This woman was—annoying. She radiated within the nervousness that washed from her being in waves. She was far to demure to be Naruto’s friend. There’s no way he would be able to handle a woman this meek. There’s no doubt that this woman is absolute trou— “Sorry—I just wasn’t expecting you to be so. . . pretty?” those viridian are finally coming to meet with his own obsidian.

He’s choked upon his tongue at what she has called him—did she just called him pretty of all things? This was a joke right? It had to be a joke. He wouldn’t accept it as anything other than a joke.

“Excuse me?”

“Oi—Sakura-chan! I’ve brought your stuff over.” there’s a whip of their heads to the voice from down the hall leading to the entrance.

“Ah! Naruto!”

She’s no longer soft steps and hesitation. She’s no longer meek, and no longer demure. She’s no longer radiating in nervousness, and she’s no longer shy. She’s all smiles and giggles in addressing the blonde that was their mutual friend. There’s the drag of his fingers within his hair of obsidian, and it’s only moments later he’s pushing off the counter and headed for the call of the blonde, who had just waltz right in his front door.

He’s quick to slip within his shoes and grab his winter coat from the rack at the door. She’s right behind him as they head out to the car. There’s an odd air as they’re bringing in her things. It’s obvious the two know each other well. It’s obvious they’re close. He’s questioning if his friend has a crush upon this woman of rose-colored locks. There isn’t much to her ‘stuff’ as Naruto had called it. Four boxes hardly equated much in the way of possessions.

It’s as he’s carrying the fourth box in and setting it within the unused guest room that he finally notes that which would have caused her to be on the verge of eviction. He had promised Naruto to give this woman a place to live. He had promised a place for her to go with eviction over her head. He had not promised this though. He had not promised anything concerning possible other guests within his home. He had not promised anything concerning an animal. He had not agreed to having a cat.

He regretted saying yes. Now he’s absolutely not agreeing to these conditions. No one had spoken a word of that which sits within the small animal carrier.

“Naruto!” he’s hissing out as he’s leaning out of the door way, “What is that!?”

The blonde is decorated with a raised brow, and the look of confusion, “What’s what?”

He’s solid in his stride to the blonde completely ignoring the woman of pale rose-colored strands who’s own face is decorated in wide doe-eyes, “You said nothing—absolutely nothing about a cat.”

“It’s a cat, Sasuke.” he’s no longer decorated in confusion, and instead staring at him with the plainest of expressions.

“You said nothing. I agreed for her to stay—not a cat.” he’s pointing at the mostly forgotten woman who’s eyes only continue to dart between the two before taking a step between them.

“I’m sorry I should have said something earlier. She’s actually really well behaved! I promise!” she’s got her hands up as if to calm him, and that only serves to annoy him further.

“Naruto.” his voice is tight as his eyes shift to her vibrant viridian, and back to the bright blues.

“You’re not really having an issue of a small cat—are you?”

“Listen if it’s an issue I’m sure I can figure somewhere e—”

“Just. Stop.” he’s hissing out as he brings his finger’s up to pinch his nose, “Just—fine. I’m not doing this right now. I’ve got work soon, and I need to finish catching up on my sleep. It better be as good as you say it is. Lock up when you leave Naruto.” he’s turning and heading passed her room not catching the looks that are shared between the two he’s no longer willing to deal with.

Naruto’s right. It’s a small cat. It’s not as if it’s the end of the world. She won’t be staying with him for long as it is. It’s annoying though—annoying that his best friend had neglected to tell him so many of the finer details, and even more annoying that he had neglected to ask for such details.

He’s has far to little in the ways of time to deal with this now. It’s something he can revisit later when he’s rested and has his next day off. He can deal with her later. There’s no point in him being aggravated right this minute. There is no point, and yet it’s got his mind reeling that he has a roommate in the span of literal hours. He’s trying to remember if there was ever a time when Naruto had ever mentioned the girl before now. He’s trying to understand what exactly he had caved and agreed too without thinking all of these things through.

The clock ticking faster than he expects, and it’s not long before he’s up, and getting ready for work. There’s been no noise since he had retreated within his room. At least this woman was quiet—that’s a silver lining if there ever was one.

He’s got his apron tied around his waist well before he’s finished buttoning up his shirt, and it’s as he’s walking out to pass the guest room’s door that he finds himself hesitating. There’s a wonder if she’s still up at ten at night. Finger’s curl upon the doorknob with the gentlest of pressure so as not to wake her. The light within the room is still on and yet she’s deep within the comfort of the guest room’s bed. There’s movement, and then there’s her cat laying beside her upon the bed. The small rise and fall of her chest is the only true indication that she’s even truly asleep.

She’s removed nothing from her boxes. He wonders if he’s offended her, and that’s got him running a hand through his obsidian strands. Maybe he had been too annoyed. Maybe he had been to harsh within the afternoon after learning of her feline friend.

He’s quiet in flicking of the light before making his way through the house.

He’s managed to leave without making a noise, and work’s not as bad as he would have thought. Serving at the local and expensive bar is what he’s grown accustom to within his late nights, and while the lack of sleep is thick upon him there’s no doubt within his mind that he’s making decent money. The job required patience with those that drank one and then two drinks—the number forever increasing before he’d have to cut them off. There’s little doubt that his looks have always been part of the reason he makes as much as he does. Women held no restraint in throwing money down upon the table. He can’t help the snort the falls that falls from him as he thinks of the rose-colored woman’s comment of him being pretty.

The sun’s making its way up as he makes his way home within the snow. It’s some time passed five he’s sure as he enters the apartment. The lights are on and that has him raising an eyebrow as he places his coat upon the rack with practiced movements.

His steps are light as he’s walking down the hall, and there she is sitting at the small kitchen table with a mug in hand. Those vibrant viridian are all wide, and all doe-eyed as she looks at him. The purring of the animal upon her lap is barely noted. The long sleeved night shirt of navy blue and light gray sleeping shorts look big on her. The silence between them is there, and so is that slow drag of time that seems to come with them. They’re strangers. He doesn’t know her. She doesn’t know him.

“I couldn’t sleep.” she’s whispering shifting her eyes from him as she sips from the mug, “Want some tea?”

There’s a shift of his weight from one leg to another before giving way to a hum of an answer that has her bringing her viridian back to him. She’s a woman of odd hereditary makeup. She’s trouble, no doubt, but she’s probably feeling just as awkward as what he does within their abrupt little first meeting.

She’s placing her mug down and then patting the cat before it removes itself from her lap. He can’t help but follow her within his kitchen as she starts to pull another mug from his cabinet of glasses. She’s looked around enough to know where the things she seeks are—Naruto had more than likely walked her through as he hid within his home.

There’s the smallest hum coming from her as he takes his place in leaning next to her against the counter. There’s that habitual need to cross his arms as he waits, and he can’t help but stare at her as she’s making him a cup of tea bobbing the tea bag within the warm water she had poured from the tea kettle on the stove.

“I promise I’ll be out soon. I’ll be looking at apartments today.” she’s got the softest of smiles on her face as she speaks removing the tea bag from the mug and making way to throw it within the trash.

Maybe he had been too annoyed—no he definitely had been to annoyed to make her feel so unwelcome. Maybe he had been to harsh within the afternoon after learning of her feline friend—no he had definitely overreacted to the small animal that appeared to be was behaved. Maybe he was making a lot of judgments upon her far to fast—no he definitely had already marked her as an issue when she truly had done nothing to warrant it.

Obsidian can’t stop their follow of her fingers as she brings the mug to her lips blowing softly upon it. She’s small, and gentle in all of her movements right in this moment. She’s got a warmth he feels like he could adjust too even if it would mean practicing a lot of patience.

She’s extending the cup to him with that same soft smile, and it’s now that he’s choosing to respond, “Take your time.” he’s not sure why he’s said it so soft—maybe he’s the one feeling a touch of shy around her now, “I’d rather you not just jump into a random place.”

Her lids fall and her smile is growing as he takes the cup from her. It’s far from the smile she had given his blonde best friend but it’s a step. She doesn’t need to make hasty decisions. He would do her best to make her feel welcome in the time that she was under his roof.

“What’s her name?” he’s humming out between sips as she goes to retrieve her own cup and take her place beside him.

“Dorie.” she’s giggling cradling her cup within both hands.

“Ah.” there’s the smallest touch of a grin upon his lips as he breathes in the aroma coming from the tea.

She’s has a touch of soft steps and hesitation. She’s lingering within her meekness, and that demureness has found it’s way back as she leans next to him. She’s no longer radiating in nervousness, but she’s definitely holding a hint of shy upon her cheeks dusted in pink. She’s wide smiles, and giggles as she chats within whispers to him.

They’re strangers, but now they’re roommates. She’s absolutely trouble, and he’s not exactly the best at dealing with people he doesn’t know.

He’s not sure what had possessed him to agree to let a stranger into his home—let alone live with him. He’s not complaining though if she’s giving him smiles like that.

[ombreecha]

Ten Shades of Red

Series: Lifetimes Fandom: Naruto Pairing: SasuSaku Rated: T (still rating this one T. . . fight me, my dudes) Prompt: We’re studying in the library and there are two people very obviously fucking in the stacks and we keep sharing embarrassed glances.

A flick of her wrist has her eyeballing the watch on her wrist with her other hand holding the brown straps of her red backpack. Friday’s were a blessing and a curse. It signaled another completed week of college courses, and in the same hand the longest day of her week with back-to-back classes. Pre-med really knew how to suck the life out of her Friday. It was her habitual routine that had her walking passed the over eccentric water fountain within the student square. The library was the tallest building on campus and just in front of her.

It’s amazing how in high school everyone noticed you for every little thing, and yet here in college no one ever took notice of her and short pale pink locks courtesy of her father. Here though she was practically invisible. There was no gawking, and there was no teasing. Pushing open the glass doors she gives a familiar wave to one of the student workers that seemed to always work the evening shift. They give the smallest of waves back as they sort through the papers in hand.

Fingers trail the books upon the second floor pulling one, and then two hardcovers. Soft steps and pursed lips give way to pinched brows as she walks up the third flight of steps, and then to the fourth. Passing the overwhelming stacks of books she lets her fingers slide upon three, and then four spines before stopping upon one and adding it to her stack.

Walking up the fourth set of steps to enter the fourth floor she cannot help but relish in the quiet that the library brings to her. This was her sanctuary, and her home away from her dorm and roommate. The knowledge upon the walls was seemingly endless, and awaiting her fingers to trail upon their spines before pulling them out and open to gaze those pale green of hers over their texts. The once pursed lips give way to the softest of smiles as she sets her books down upon the table and sets her backpack onto the floor taking a seat. There’s hardly a soul lingering on this floor, and that only helps to motivate her and pull out the laptop, notebook, and blue pen she has stashed within her bag.

Deep within her study session as she flips a page of the Foundations of College Chemistry fifteenth edition book does she catch movement from her peripherals. The male that has slid the chair out from the table says nothing, nor does he spare her a glance. His obsidian strands are parted shield one of his eyes from her, and are just long enough to reach past his chin. There’s no shift of his eyes to her, but a clearing of his throat and it makes her realize he’s caught her staring at him.

Embarrassment floods her face setting her milky complexion into a shade of dusty pink as she puts her eyes back to her laptop. He has chosen a seat four chairs down so as not to be directly in front of her. The smallest of interest peak at the need to sit upon the table she has taken, and that makes her pale green scan the tables around them noting no others have made their way to them. Rolling her shoulders to ease some of her tenseness within her study session of Chemistry she dismisses the thought giving way to a stretch leaning back into her chair and rocking it back onto its back two legs before sitting properly again and hitting the books.

They sit within the comfortable silence outside his consistent typing as his eyes trail a large hardcover open beside him. She adds to the clicking sound of keys on a keyboard with her own keyboard here and there, pausing, and then one flip of a page, and then two. The pauses become more frequent as her brows pinch together before grabbing a hold of the other chemistry book she had gotten from the second floor. Three, four, and then five page flips filter the air after seeking out the term Arrhenius equation within the glossary in the back. Sliding the pen behind her ear she’s sliding her and the chair out to rise. Pale green miss the obsidian that fall upon her with her movements. Down the steps, and then back up with the book opened and already placed upon the information she had sought. Lingering at the table, and yet to take her seat she’s flipping through more of the same. The crease in her brow is easing as her eyes drag the page—and then she hears the most foreign of sounds within the library.

Her head whips back leaving the Development of Arrhenius Equation book forgotten within her fingers. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other as she tries to process what she’s heard. Silence is what graces her, and then another foreign sound rips through it. Blinking she turns her head to the male who has followed her gaze to the shelves of books before them. Obsidian study her pale green reflecting back his own confusion within his pause in typing.

Swallowing thickly she finds her way into her seat setting the book she had acquired upon the much larger foundations book. Gripping the blue pen from her ear she’s hesitant as she brings it to her notebook before scribbling upon the page, and dismissing whatever the odd sound had been.

Minutes transpire between them with his typing back in full force, and her biting upon her tongue in concentration as a moan rips through the air—wait a minute did she just hear that correctly?

That makes her pale green widen halting her fingers in their mid scribble of words. Sliding her tongue back within her mouth she subconsciously licks her bottom lips gazing at the rows of books. The male of obsidian eyes, and hair shifts slightly in his seat as a stifling groan hits the air. Pale green flicker to him. He has the smallest look of bewilderment upon his features as if he’s questioning what he’s heard just the same. The silence is broken with shallow pants, and she feels her face heating up—oh my god someone is not. His obsidian widen just a fraction more as they share looks at each other. There is the smallest tint upon his own cheeks now as a sharper pant is heard.

Thin fingers drop the blue pen upon the notebook to her right before trailing up to her mouth covering it with the intent to silence anything that may come from her own mouth. Darting her eyes back to her laptop she can only pray that he feels just as embarrassed as she is. Swallowing thickly he seems to settle for going back to his work. This makes her eyes shift back to him for only seconds before silently agreeing to continue on with her own work.

One moan, two panting breaths, and three shudders come flowing through the room, and it’s made her seek to hide her face with her hands casting him a glance between her fingers. He doesn’t turn his head but he does shift his eyes to meet hers. The male has chosen to try and hide his own face with his wrist pressing to his lips, and fingers digging up in to his fringe that dared to shield his eye from her glance.

Four loud thuds hit the air, six muffled noises follow it, and now she’s seven shades far too red, and too embarrassed to dare look upon the male. What was this even? Who even? Why even? She cannot stop the questions from popping one after another. She feels the shift of him pulling his hand from his face. There is hesitance with the movement of her eyes. Lips are pressed firm, and his brows have pinched together. The light blush that once adorned his cheeks has deepened as he flickers his eyes from the shelves to her eyes in a repeated fashion. Her heart is beating wildly unsure of what to do. There is a feeling of lewdness upon her being at hearing the passionate act of those hidden among the books.

The next thought pops—are they perverts for sitting here?

Pale green flash back to him with the thought, and as if he can read her thought he is shaking his head no with force. The scowl upon his face accompanies the out right denial that they may indeed be perverts for sitting there listening.

Eight broken noises force her eyes to gaze upon her mostly forgotten chemistry. Breathing in deep she prays her increasing red tint disappears. Light drumming on the table makes her raise her eyes to see his fingers tapping upon the table as he cradles his head upon his other hands palm. That subconscious habit of hers happens once more wetting her bottom lip. Obsidian flash at the act and then quickly remove themselves from her to look at his laptop.

The resolve to follow his lead makes her grab her blue pen and flip another page of her recently acquired book from the second floor. She’s scribbling hastily as she continues to utter the arrhenius equation within her head trying to drown out the sounds of sex that continue to fill the room.

Nine whimpers, and one loud wail from the woman makes her hand slip running the pen right across her page. There is a scowl upon her face momentarily forgetting her embarrassment at the act occurring as she sees her notes slashed through with that one simple slip.

Ten thrusts that continue to increase drown out what sounds like a chuckle—is this asshole laughing at her? Slowly she moves her head to cast her pale green upon him—oh my god he is laughing at her.

He’s biting his lip in an attempt to suppress the chuckles as his once drumming fingers type each letter lazily upon his keyboard. There’s a smirk playing at the corners of his lips, no goddammit it’s a downright grin. There’s no proof of it, but she’s sure he’s looking at her within his peripheral view.

A startling groan that’s gruff but loud brings her back from the male to stuff her hands upon her lap. If her eyes continued to widen at these speeds she’s sure they’ll pop out. Heavy breathing fills the air, and now there’s the sudden realization that whoever it was having a good time within the shelves would spot them. A simple low, and soft scoff hits the air as if answering the thought. Refusal to look at him has her running a set of her fingers to the back of her pale pink strands to dig them within her scalp. Prayers to have the world swallow her whole ring within her head like a mantra.

One set of footsteps, and then two are heard coming and she immediately grabs her pen for dear life and begins to start her scribbling the Arrhenius equation over and over again. She’s praying and pleading for any god to keep her from having to make eye contact with the pair. They’re walking past them and she doesn’t dare steal a look at who could dare be lewd within the library’s fifth floor. Does one even need to take in oxygen to live? She thinks not.

Not soon after a tense air has hit them at the disappearance of the two lovers does she hear him grabbing his things. No words, or eye contact is exchanged between them until he is standing and his bag is upon his shoulder. The male is lingering at his pushed in seat, and it’s now that she finally dares to look at him in full. Baggy charcoal sweat pants, and a pushed up long sleeve v-neck black shirt flood her eyes. The smirk he had been suppressing is still there but it has a touch of softness to it as his obsidian gaze within her pale green. This male is gorgeous and man does it now make her feel self-conscious to be in his presence with her simple lavender flowing top, and black tights. The embarrassment she feels now gives way to a cheesy and almost pained grin.

There’s a slow blink from him as he slides his hand within his pocket, and then he turns and leaves her with nothing else.

Monday comes, and Tuesday goes. Wednesday is a blur, and Thursday’s definitely not missed. Friday comes and she’s making her way to the library. A blush tints her cheeks as she looks at the library still unable to forget last Friday’s little adventure on the fifth floor. There’s been no sight of the mysterious male that had shared such an embarrassing adventure with her, and she can only thank her lucky stars for that. Her feet only falter long enough to tie her pink strands within a messy bun, and it’s in that moment that she sees a shadow cast upon the ground in front of her.

“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed.” his voice is low as he mutters what she’s decided is a compliment, and it only serves to make her turn her head to look at who would say such a thing.

It’s him—shit, it’s him—with his obsidian eyes, and obsidian hair. Royal blue is the color of his sweatshirt, and a pair of black sweats. He’s sporting a red, and white flat brimmed hat turned backwards upon his head, and now she’s feeling like her choice in wearing a large sweater matching her pale pink hair in color that hangs off her shoulder coupled with denim dark blue shorts is anything but cute. Words are trying to formula a response, and he’s already walking ahead of her. The smallest of designs sit—a deep rich red and bright white fan—just between his shoulder blades upon the sweatshirt. Shifting once, and then shifting twice she finally follows after him.

There’s a wave to the same student that always works on Friday’s at the library. She stops at the second floor trailing her fingers upon the spines of the seemingly never ending supply of books. Grabbing three she presses them to her chest before going up to the third floor, and then the fourth stopping to grab her fourth book for the evening to assist in her studies. Fifth floors the ticket, and he’s already there sitting in the seat across from where she sat previously. He’s typing away at his laptop as she sets her books down and takes her assumed seat.

Fleeting looks go between them as they work on their respective subjects. Five looks, then six. Keeping her eyes locked on his he stops his typing to grab a notebook from the top of his own stack of books she took little notice of. He extends the notebook her way and with a touch of shyness she didn’t know still existed within her she reaches her own hand out grabbing it by the spiral spine.

Pale green settle onto the ordinary notebook black in cover, and the word Chemistry in silver sharpie scribbled onto the top of it. She notes what she assumes is his name written in the bottom right hand corner in the same silver sharpie—Sasuke Uchiha, and then the multicolored tabs stick out from the pages within it. The Arrhenius equation tab grabs her attention, and makes her open it finally. His eyes have yet to leave her, and it’s finally as she finishes letting her own gaze trail down the page that she looks up at him.

There’s a when, and a how—he’s reading her mind again, “I took that class last year.” he says in lackadaisical attempt.

Silence falls in place naturally around them as obsidian and pale green stay locked. A moment, a second—seven of them to be exact, then eight and it’s on nine her cheeks are dusted in pink, and a whisper of a thank you falls into the air.

A smirk that reaches those endless obsidian decorates his features as he gives a noise of a response, “Hn.”

Embarrassment floods her, and it’s here she spews out her name, “I’m Sakura Haruno.”

His smirk grows into a grin as he gets back to typing, “So, Sakura, how about that fuck session last week?” he’s chuckling by the end of the question.

Her skin deepens ten shades of red flushing her—oh my god he did fucking not.

[ombreecha]

He’s Happy

Series: Lifetimes Fandom: Naruto Pairing: SasuSaku Rated: K Prompt: Sarada was supposed to be sleeping but tonight is one of the rare times that Papa is home. He is always on airplanes and hunched over stacks of paper. All she wants is to play with him and hug him and color with him. She glanced at the living room where Mama was on the phone with Auntie Ino before tip toeing down the hall to Papa’s study. Mama always said not to bother Papa when the door to his study is closed. But tonight, the door’s slightly open. She was going to use that to her advantage. She peeks at the small opening and she could see Papa fighting to stay awake at his desk. She frowned and walked in. “Papa,” she pouts. “You said you’d read me a bedtime story.” Mama ended up doing it earlier and she was disappointed. Mama was always reading to her. She wanted it to be Papa this time. Idea: Anonymous Note: I won’t lie I’m not happy with how I ended this. It feels stiff.

The tiniest of feet are carrying from her bedroom. Fingers are careful in leaving the door cracked just enough should she need to make a quick break for her bed. Her mother had long since sent her to bed, but that would not stop her from her goal—papa was home.

Work had kept her father away from them, and it’s only on the rarest of occasions that he’s not on a plane flying away to places she had never heard of, or deep within the stacks of papers that towered upon his desk. She did not wish for much from her father. She had already passed the phase of always asking why he was never home, and why he could not skip work to play with her. She knows he does it because he has too but it does not lessen the desire, and the longing. It does not lessen her wishes and it does not lessen her attempts to spend time with him.

Her mother’s voice is just down the hall, and just within the living room. Holding her breath she dares to steal a glance from the doorway. Her mother is deep within a conversation on the phone, and it’s as she peers from the door way that she catches wind that it’s her beloved Auntie Ino. There’s fear she’ll be caught and a her smallest movements to press her back against the wall. A deep inhale meant to settle her nerves comes, and it’s as her mother lets out a laugh at something the blonde has said does she take her chance to pass by. She pauses pressing her back against the wall once more having it made it passed the entrance to the living room. The exhale she takes is louder than she intends and makes her clasp her small hands upon her mouth. There’s a second of wait for her as she sees if she’s alerted her mother, and then there’s the pause to settle herself once more gazing at the door parted just slightly.

Her mother had always warned her to never bother her father when the door to his study was closed, and yet tonight it was not completely shut—light spills from the small opening. She would not need to stand upon the tips of her toes to unlock it, and she would not be breaking her mother’s warning. Tiptoeing down the hall there’s the occasional look behind her and then a peek within the door. There’s no missing the pinch of his brows and the fingers dug within locks of ebony pulling his bangs from his eyes. There’s a heaviness to his lids that dip slightly as his hand scribbles upon a page. Swallowing to steel her resolve she takes careful steps in letting herself in, and doing her best to place the door exactly as it had been.

“Sarada?” his voice is laced in exhaustion, but he doesn’t look angry.

“Papa.” there’s the kick of her foot upon the floor in nervousness, “You said you would read me a bedtime story.” she dares to look to him within the dip of her head.

The wheels of his chair come to her ears, and he’s coming around his desk. He’s bending down to her and then his fingers once dug within his locks have come to run through her own, “Did Mama not read you one?” his voice is soft.

“She did. . . but I wanted you to read me one.” she’s puffing her cheeks within her honesty.

Her mother was always good about reading to her before bed, but it’s within these small chances that she longs to have him read to her. There had been a pout upon her face as her mother had read to her earlier—she had been unhappy that he had been wrapped within his work.

“Ah.” he hums out picking her up from her waist and settling her within his arm, “Let’s see what we have.”

His fingers skim across the books that lined the shelves within his study. They halt upon one, “Would you like me to read to you about global economic change?” he’s teasing her within the drag of his voice.

“Papa!” she’s puffing those cheeks of hers within her giggles, “Noo!”

“Okay, okay—hm.” he’s crossing the room to the smaller shelf, “How’s The Rainbow Fish, or Corduroy?”

“The Rainbow Fish!” she’s excited within her choices as she tightens her hold upon his lavender dress shirt, “The Rainbow Fish, papa!”

“Okay, okay—shh you don’t want your mother to hear you.” he’s chiding lightly grabbing the requested book, and making his way to the desk chair. Sitting her within his lap he leans back within his chair letting her snuggle within his arm.

The Rainbow Fish is a book she’s well acquainted with, but that did not lessen her love for it. The colors had captured her eyes, and was one she requested often. Her mother had read it countless times, and yet this would be the first time her papa had read it to her. There’s the smallest wonder in if he has read this book too.

He’s opening the cover, and flipping the title page placing a wide smile upon her face. His voice is smooth within her ear,  “A long way out in the deep blue sea there lived a fish. Not just an ordinary fish, but the most beautiful fish in the entire ocean. His scales were every shade of blue and green and purple, with sparkling silver scales among them.”

The press of his lips to her head comes with the flip of her page. She cannot stop herself from nuzzling within the affection he’s giving her. The affection only seeks to make her curl her fingers within his shirt once more as she takes in his warmth, “He’s such a pretty fish, papa.”

“He is.” his voice is gentle as he continues on with reading to her, “The other fish were amazed by his beauty. They called him Rainbow Fish. ‘Come on, Rainbow Fish’, they would call, ‘Come and play with us!’ but the Rainbow Fish would just glide past, proud and silent, letting his scales shimmer.”

Her papa’s voice is just soft enough for her to hear as he continues with another flip of the page. Tiny fingers seek to touch the fish upon the page running over this fish so pretty. His fingers come over her own as they run across his scales, and she cannot stop herself from turning to him with the widest of smiles. He’s never one for large bright smiles, but there’s a tenderness behind his smile at her. He continues as she settles back within him. His voice deep, and soothing becoming a lull of warmth that washes over her.

The pages come and go. He’s slow within his reading and there is the occasional run of his fingers upon her shoulder. There’s a sadness that washes over her in the other fish avoiding the Rainbow Fish, and a pout upon her lips, “The poor Rainbow Fish didn’t want to give away his scales.”

“Ah—he didn’t, but sometimes it’s good to share with others.” his fingers thread within her obsidian locks rubbing soothing circles within her hair.

She’s pouting but it’s lessening with each movement of his fingers. A sigh of contentment falls before he’s flipping to the next page withdrawing his fingers from within her hair. There’s a longing for them, but it’s as his voice comes to her that the momentary longing disappears. Her mother’s voice is always gentle, and soft within the reading, and he wonders if she had learned to do it from papa. There’s the childish curiosity of if her parents read books to each other—they’re not children like her, but she thinks it would be cute to see her mother sit beside her father as he reads her a book just as he is doing now.

The turn of her body seeks to press herself further into him breathing in his sent. The Rainbow Fish that glides through the pages brings a sad smile, and a yawn from deep within her. Her father’s voice deepens with the words of the octopus telling the Rainbow Fish to share his scales with the others if he wishes to be happy.

Obsidian are slow in looking up at this man so busy, but so warm. He’s never home, and he’s always traveling. This is what she wishes for more than anything. She wants more time with him, and she wants to have him hold her as he reads. There’s the whisper within her head that she hopes he misses times like this with her as much as she does. Her mother missed him, and she missed him—what if she were to ask him for more of his time? Would he give her that?

Her lids continue to attempt to fall, and yet she is fighting through the sleepiness that’s come over her within the lull of his voice. Obsidian look to the pages of the fish swimming, and the selfishness of the Rainbow Fish makes her wonder if she is being selfish with her wishes, and longing. Her mother, and her continued to wait patiently for him—and she knows they will have to continue to wait for him. He’s doing his best her mother had told her before. He’s working hard to provide for them her mother had said, and she knows that her mother isn’t wrong.

Another yawn softer and deeper than the previous falls, “—Only one very small shimmer scale, he thought. Well maybe I wouldn’t miss just one.”

There’s a fade of the book before her, and the blur that comes with continued dropping lids. She’s not sure at what point she’s missed some of the story as she drags her lids open. A hum escapes her lips as he father’s voice never wavers of leaves her ears. The smile she has now is no longer wide, and beaming. It’s no longer large, but soft with hints of sleep. The inhale she takes is calm, and deep as she settles to lay her head back, and allow her lids to close.

“Finally the Rainbow Fish had only one shining scale left. His most prized possessions had been given away, yet he was very happy. ‘Come on Rainbow Fish,’ they called, ‘Come play with us!’ ‘Here I come ,’ said the Rainbow Fish and, happy as a splash he swam off to join his friends.” he’s pressing another kiss upon her head before turning to the last page.

She’s mumbling within her sleep, “He’s. . .happy, papa.”

The hum that falls from him comes as she gives way to the smallest of snores, “Ah, he is, isn’t he?”

“I’d say he is.” the voice of his wife comes from the door—she’s leaning within the doorway with her arms crossed and that playful smile upon her face.

“Sakura.”

“Sasuke-kun,” she’s whispering within her steps to him, “Sorry. I didn’t hear her wake.”

Fingers slide the book upon the table in an attempt to keep her from waking. He’s careful taking her within his arms as he raises to meet her within the front of his desk. His wife’s fingers come to press upon her back, “No—it’s not your fault. I need to work harder, and make more time for her. . .” his fingers run within his child, so small, within his arm’s hair pressing her head against his shoulder, “—for you, too.”

This woman so patient, and so loving can only widen the smile upon her lips as she brings her fingers within his hair brush them from his eyes, “You’re doing just fine. She misses you—I miss you, but we understand.”

There's a hum that falls from him at the feeling of her fingers within his hair. The dip of his head comes, there's a hint of shy upon him with his daughter within his arms, but the press of his lips comes against this wife so understanding. She is the rock within his world. She has stood tall within his constant absences, and she will continue to do so. She had never wavered, and she had never lashed out. There's no one stronger then this woman of pale pink, and sea green eyes.

He knows he does not deserve this woman so strong, and this child so well behaved. Yet, there is no denying how happy they made him even when he could not give back all that he wanted. A noise falls from him as he follows his wife from his study thinking back upon the book he had just read to his daughter.

The Rainbow Fish had become happy within his giving. He too would give more to make sure his daughter could be just as happy. He misses her, and he misses his child—he knows they miss him as he works to provide and give to them. He can only hope that he can give back all the time he's missed.

[ombreecha]

Hot Mess Express

Series: Lifetimes Fandom: Naruto Pairing: SasuSaku Rated: T Prompt: This wasn’t how Sakura thought her day would start. She’s 30 minutes late at her driver’s education class and the receptionist just told her that Itachi-san, her usual driving instructor, called out sick today so they assigned her to a substitute instructor. “He’s not the most patient person, Sakura, please make your way to the parking lot now,” the receptionist said. Sakura thanked her before running out to the parking lot. Great. She was likely going to be stuck with a grumpy old instructor. who would be extra grumpy because she was now 35 minutes late. She saw the car she was assigned to and took a deep breath before opening the driver’s side door. Instead of apologizing for being late, she gaped at the person sitting in the passenger seat. He wasn’t old alright, he was probably about her age. He sure looked grumpy though but so hot. “Um, I’m sorry for being so late,” she managed to say and got in the car. He rolled his eyes and glanced at his watch. “I’m taking that off your class time so you only have an hour with me,” he informed her, clearly annoyed. She glanced at him briefly. He and Itach-san had a certain resemblance. He looked at her and blinked, wondering why she hasn’t done anything yet. “Maybe put your seatbelt on?” he suggested. Idea: Anonymous Note: My dudes I haven't taken a driving course since I was sixteen. Like 9 years have passed since then. I winged this whole thing. As Papa Ombree once said "You only have drive correctly once." . . . Fuck that 3 and 9 shit #snort

Hot mess express doesn’t even begin to explain her as she’s rushing through the doors of the mandatory driving class. Fingers are desperate to calm the strands that wish to stick out from their designated places, and the twist of her button up jean shirt is far to uncomfortable. She’s typically punctual but within the night her charger had died—and now she’s thirty minutes late for her class. The receptionist’s face is one of a small smile soaking in sympathy as she’s untwisting her top in an effort to look far more composed than she really is.

The receptionist’s voice is soothing, but the words are not. Her normal instructor is out for the day citing sickness as the reason and that brings dread upon her in thick waves. They have assigned her a substitute instructor, and her stomach twists with the words that fall from the receptionist, “He’s not the most—patient person. . . Haruno-san, please make your way to the parking lot.”

One last fleetingly look at the grimace upon the receptionist's face is all she needs before she’s walking out the door with a thick swallow. Biting her lip she can only begin to imagine what terror awaits her with this substitute most likely grumpy, and old. The car is not far and it’s as she’s coming upon it that she takes a deep breath to settle her already shot nerves. Sliding within the driver’s seat prepared to give her most earnest apology the words become caught within the midst of her throat.

Grumpy, and old—she had told herself. No—this man was far from old, and plenty grumpy looking.

The apology is forgotten within her blatant stare upon this male within the passenger seat. He looks to be as young as she is—what was a male this young doing teaching driving? Had he even had his license long enough to do such a thing? He was attractive at that with ebony strands, and ebony eyes—was your driving instructor allow to look this good? The tightening of his jaw comes, and there’s no missing the clearing of his throat. The firm press of his lips only continues to add to this look of absolute disdain she’s sure he holds for her.

“Uh—I’m sorry for being so late.” she sounds far less apologetic than she could have ever hoped—this only continues to further her belief that today was just not her day.

There’s the slowest drop of his lids and then a glance upon his watch. His voice is smooth within it’s drag from his throat, “You’re getting an hour with me for being tardy.” there’s no denying the annoyance that rings within every word.

The bite upon her lip has returned as she dares to give one last glance his way. There’s a certain resemblance at work before her, and she can only wonder for the briefest of seconds if he and her normal instructor are related before his voice cuts through her thoughts effectively, “Adjust your mirrors? Put on your seat belt? Do you need your hand held?”

There’s a wince at his words making her rush to do the things he’s stated. The adjustments she makes aren’t perfect but they’ll do, and the click of the seat belt follows not far behind as she places her hands upon the three o’clock, and nine o’clock positions.

His voice comes out again directing her to exit the parking lot. Things aren’t entirely to bad as she keeps her mouth shut and ears open for his commands, and instructions. She’s done enough damage for one day, and the last thing she needs is for this male, she’ll hopefully never see again, to be anymore annoyed than he already was.

The press upon the break at first is a bit rough. She’s whispering an apology, and with each one that she comes across she is finally relaxing enough to do them properly. The turn she takes is done well—or at least she hopes it is as he scribbles something upon the clip board and the paper. It’s as if he enjoys seeing her twitch and squirm within the scribbling he does. He’s got her going through various roads. That scribble he makes upon the paper has her questioning what she’s done as she drives through the alleyway he’s made her turn onto. The air she sucks within her nose she prays will held bring just a little more calm, and the flexing of her fingers on the steering wheel are absolutely what she needs with the therapeutic rhythm she’s managing.

At the light she hears a hum come from him, and catches him shifting within his seat from her peripherals. Her mind cannot stop itself from appreciating the features this male had been graced with—the curve of his mouth, that prominent jaw, that—“Light’s green, Haruno.”  

It should be absolutely criminal for a driving instructor to be this attractive—who the fuck was she kidding he’s handsome. There’s another scribble upon his paper, and that only seeks to make her let out a frustrated flow of hair from her nose. She can feel his eyes on her, and she’s sure whatever look he has is more of the same firm pressed lips, and brows pinched in annoyance.

Never would she have thought she wished for her usual instructor. Itachi Uchiha was a quiet man, but calm with an absolute collected air that radiated from him. He would even give the smallest of teasing remarks, and was far more relaxed than this male that sat beside her within this small vehicle. If you had told her this is what awaited her she would of skipped all together. Driving with someone tense was only furthering her anxiety behind the wheel.  

Her shoulders tense as she hears the tap of his pencil upon the paper, and then there’s a snort.

Pale green slide quickly to look at him—and Jesus Christ he’s fucking grinning—this bastard is grinning at how freaked he has her. There’s a hiss threatening to fall from her mouth, but she won’t. She can’t if she’s being honest, because the last thing she needs is to have him failing her because she couldn’t keep herself in check. Swallowing thickly she tries to push the lump of words she will not let fall down as she reminds herself to relax. Driving wasn’t hard, and she had never been one to panic thus far, but never had she been with someone quiet like—wait, what the hell was his name even?

Clearing her throat she pushes her nerves away to speak, “I’m sorry. I never caught your name?”

“Ah—It’s Sasuke Uchiha.” he answered within a hum.

“Oh? Are you related to Itachi-san?” she’s let her initial thoughts become confirmed.

“He’s my brother.” he’s direct within his response as if he’s been asked this more than once.

“Ah, that’s really neat since he’s my usual instructor.”

“I know.”

That’s all she needs to keep her mouth shut, and it’s here that she’s trying to figure out within her head how the two siblings could be so different. He was not harsh within his response, and yet that drag of his voice had been so uninterested, and so very much over her idle chatter. The silence within the car is not as thick as it had been but it still lingers. Something needs to clear this air or she’s sure she’ll twist herself into a pretzel.

Another scribble comes as she stops at a red light, and finally she decides a more earnest apology for how this all started is needed, “I am sorry that I was late.” she’s being sincere and the heavy feeling upon her chest she notes is less with her words.

“I heard you were one for being on time. I wasn’t expecting it.”

There’s a muffled noise that falls from her, “I had some issues this morning. I’m sorry you were waiting as long as you were.”

“You’ve apologized enough—let it go.” he’s humming within his words again as his pencil comes to jot down another note, “You’ve got about fifteen minutes. We’ll start heading back now—take the next right.”

She’s crossing her arms as she turns the wheel to take what he’s told her, “Don’t cross your arms like that. If the air bag would deploy you’d break your arms.”

“Oh? Ah—sorry I’ll correct that.” she’s now the one humming within her response.

The silence that comes over them now isn’t one so thick. She wouldn’t call it relaxing but it’s better than where it had been—so much better. The therapeutic curl of her fingers upon the wheel is lessening as she takes another road, and it’s at the stop sign when she’s checking both ways that she notes he too has relaxed a bit more from his once rigid posture. There’s a tap of his pencil against the paper locked within the clipboard as if he’s thinking, and yet there is no scribble to follow it.

Pulling into the parking lot she’s takes the space he’s told her too, and as she switches to park she lets out a much needed exhale far too thankful it’s done and over with.

Her fingers fidget within her lap as he writes something else upon his paper before he’s turning to her, and she takes his lead to look at him.

“You did well—Itachi said you would.” there’s a hint of a smirk within the corners of his lips.

“That’s a relief! At least something’s gone well today.” she’s placing her hand against her chest with a few giggles escaping her.

“Ah—” that hum comes from him, and she’s not entirely sure what he’s meant with it, but he’s taking his seat belt off, and she’s more than happy to continue in following his lead shutting the car off and pulling the keys from the ignition.

He’s rounding the car to her with one of his hands within his khaki pants as the other holds the clipboard beside him. There’s a shift of his weight, “Haruno-san.”

“Yes?”

“Your pants are inside out. The tag is showing.” he’s chuckling by the end of it.

Pale green eyes widen—oh no, oh no, no, no, this asshole is snickering at her, and fuck it sounds way too good. Why in the world God had decided to be cruel to her today was beyond her, but she’ll be sure to send that prayer at a time when she’s not flushed in embarrassment and trying to cover the tag he’s made sure to mention, “Ah—you’re far too gullible.”

The smirk she had seen hiding within the corners has finally decorated his mouth for her to see. She’s flushed within a feeling—embarrassment doesn’t quite hit it, and anger isn’t all of it.

“It’s as if you like torturing me.” she’s groaning hiding her face within her hands as if it would keep him from seeing her far too bright red face.

“Hm—Have a good day Haruno-san. Don’t forget to drop the keys off with the receptionist.” his farewell has her peeking from between her fingers as he turns to leave.

“You as well, Uchiha-san.” finger’s pull themselves down her face as if it will relieve her from the flushed mess she is.

“Sasuke.” he’s stopped to turn and look her way once more with the cockiest of smiles.

It should be absolutely criminal for a driving instructor to be this handsome with such a cocky look upon his face. It should be absolutely against everything in the universe to make a girl this embarrassed at that.

Grumpy, and old—she had told herself. No—this man was far from old, and far from grumpy—god, he was down right ornery.

Ornery she could deal with though—her father was the orneriest of them all, and while he had been nothing like her first thoughts had lead her to believe there is only lingering curiosity as to what else she had been wrong about.

Fingers curl upon her hip as it’s partner seeks to run through her hair. Ruffling her locks she can only follow his already retreating form.

[ombreecha]

Definitely

Series: Lifetimes Fandom: Naruto Pairing: SasuSaku Rated: T Prompt: Driving Lessons Idea: @beatoneheart . . .my beeeeatheat Note:  Continuation of Ten Shades of Red

There's a hum upon his lips has his fingers sit upon his lap within the vehicle he's parked outside her dorm. The building has become one he's well acquainted with.

She doesn't keep him waiting as she walks from the entrance with her bag slung upon her shoulder. Her hair has grown longer through the passing semesters allowing her to braid it. There's a wonder if she realizes how cute she is—the gray long sleeve shirt, and pale pink high waist skirt with lace design at the ends is definitely her—as he catches the few who give lingering looks.

They had continued their study sessions within the mostly quiet fifth floor of the library every Friday. He may have asked for her number. He may have also started seeing her more frequently. He may have been meeting her for lunch. He may have even learned a thing or two about her. She liked sweets-syrup-coated anko dumplings to be specific. She had made enough faces at restaurants to know she hated spicy foods. She happened to love stories written by F. Scott Fitzgerald—The Beautiful and The Damned was her favorite among his work. She held the oddest of interests in thriller movies.

He definitely wouldn't call them together, but he wouldn't call them separate either. There's the smallest hint of a smirk as he finally makes his way from the driver's side to offer his hand out to take her bag. That dust of pink he finds so humorous still finds its way to her cheeks every time.

There's no hesitation as they round the front of his car, and then he's opening the door for her earning another of her infamous soft thank yous. She's stepping in, and that air of shy she seems to always have is fully intact. A close of the door, and back around the car he goes back to the driver's side, and reaching back to place her bag behind his seat. A click of his seat belt, and he's got them rolling down the road.

Obsidian catch her habitual lick across her bottom lip as she plays with her fingers, "It's just parallel parking."

"Sasuke-kun, it's not that simple." she's puffing her cheeks and that only makes him snort at her childishness.

When this woman who studied Pre-Med had given away that she did not have her driver's license he had thought she was lying. Surely this intelligent woman was joking—she had not been. It was then and there that he decided to teach her. This was a basic thing for any young adult, after all.

She had actually brought the driver's manual he had picked up for her to one of their more recent study sessions, and that by itself had lead to him teasing her. This woman took something so easy, and so natural unbelievably serious. The way she would squirm when behind the driver's seat was definitely entertaining. Just as natural as it should be for any young adult she had gotten the controls quickly, and she observed and followed what she had read within the book effortlessly behind the wheel.

"Are you sure your father doesn't mind you borrowing his cones?" her lips are pressed firmly as she speaks within the silence.

"Ah—he definitely doesn't." his eyes are fleeting upon her before staring back at the road, "If you do good I'll reward you."

Now that, that right there, has caught her attention. He doesn't need to shift his obsidian to know that she has turned her head to look at him with interest in what kind of reward he would give her. Pulling into the vacant parking lot of the police station his father worked at he parks it within the center of one of the spaces, "Gimme a moment to get everything set up."

There's the subtlest squirm in her as he gets out pressing the trunk. It takes no time to get the bright orange cones out, and set them up. She's followed him out of the car with her arms crossed over her chest. She's puffed the right side of her cheek as she watches him, but after a few silence looks shared between then two she's throwing her hands up into the air and making her way to the driver's side—he doesn't let her open it herself that would definitely be rude in his mother's book.

Adjusting his seat, and mirror are her first priority. It never ceases to make him give way to chuckles at how close she has to pull the seat to let her small frame reach the pedals. A deep breath is inhaled, and then exhaled as she switches the car from park to drive.

First attempt is an absolute bust as she hits two of the cones with the front of his car, and he can't help but snicker at her loud gasp at the sound of her hitting them. Second attempt she's backed into one of the cones, and then comes that embarrassment he thinks is far too cute for a twenty year old woman. There's a third attempt, and then fourth. Fifth is no better, and at six she lets out a frustrated whine.

"You're really over thinking this." he remarks casually running his fingers through his obsidian locks.

"Sasuke-kun!" she's puffing those cheeks of hers again in that familiar childish manner, "What's my reward if I manage this anyways?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" his voice carries the same lackadaisical features his face holds, "Park so I can fix the cones."

The compliance comes with a huff, "What if I really damage the cones? Won't your father be upset?"

He bends down back into the passenger side, "You're not getting out of this. You should be more concerned about damaging my car than a few orange cones." he doesn't wait for more of her childish looks before going behind the car to slide under it and attempt to dislodge the cone effectively under it. A pull, a yank, and an eye roll later has him shuffling out from under the car giving a wave of his hand to move forward. She's dented the cone, and he can only give way to a shake of his head before resetting the cones she's managed to move with the car. He's opening the door, and in the passenger seat once more propping his leg on his knee, "Alright, now back up and try again." there's hesitation and then she's turning those pale green to him. His brows pinch together as he turns to look back her for her delay, "What?"

". . . You're not wearing your seat belt." his eyes widen for the briefest of seconds before he gives another roll of his eyes and does as he's being asked.

Seventh attempt she's too far from where she needs to be, and on eight she's hit the front of his car off another cone, "You mean to tell me that you can take three science classes—one mind you is two above the normal for freshmen—" he's pinching the bridge of his nose, "yet you can't do something as simple as judge how to move a car around cones?"

"Shut up! Some of us haven't been doing this since we were sixteen!" he's raising a brow at that attempt of an excuse—if you could even call it that in his book.

She's mumbling under her breath as she lets out another huff, and moving the car forward, "You just think you're so damn smart don't you." she's moved from drive to reverse as she pushes herself up with the help of the center console to look out the back window, "Well, excuse me, for not having the time to do this while I busted my ass—" there's a whip of the car and her hand slides the wheel within her frustration, "doing volunteer work, and playing volleyball—" he's cut her off effectively.

"Sakura."

"What!?" she's hissing as she looks at him pointedly with her foot on the break.

"So you can do it." there's the smallest smirk on his lips, "Now. Do it again."

He can feel her eyes on him, and he can feel her fingers tightening around the gear shift before looking out the window to see her first successful attempt. There's silence, and then another shift of looks between them. He's counting the seconds down, and it only takes five before her cheeks decorate themselves in that dusty pink he enjoys.

Silence settles between the two of them as she pulls out of the spot she has effectively parked herself in. The dusty pink never leaves her cheeks as she makes for another successful attempt. She fails on ten, but it's not that bad, and on eleven she's just barely managed it. Fingers have propped his head as his elbow leans against the window, "Ahh go a little slower." he breathes out.

There's only a nod given at his command as she performs number twelve. The hum that leaves his mouth makes her squirm within the seat as fingers flex once more around the gear shift at attempt thirteen. It's a success, but still needs work.

Fourteen comes, and she's managed, but the hesitance and the deep concentration on her face is still there. It's as she moves to make attempt fifteen that he places his hand on upon her own that lay on the gear shift. He's inching forward taking in her vanilla aroma as his lips linger at her ear. There's a touch of a grin upon his lips as they move to let out the softest of whispers. There's a startle from her, and then the movement of head to look at him with full attention at what he had dared to say. The grin that had played upon his lips deepen as she begins to turn that shade of red he happens to love more than the dusty pink.

He's definitely embarrassed her, and there is no regret in this as he pulls away from her.

"You—you don't really mean that."

A smirk that reaches those endless obsidian decorates his features as he gives a noise of a response, "Hn." it's absolutely habitual but they've hung out enough now she should be able to know the intention behind it.

Her pale green are studying his face, and he lets her have this moment to digest him before he teases her once more, "Ah, you really are cute when you're embarrassed." her hands have removed themselves from the wheel, and gear shift to settle within her lap, "Sakura, never let go of the wheel."

The scold is light, and tinted with his tease as she quickly places her hands back from where they had come. Attempt fifteen finally comes. There's a thick swallow that constricts her throat. Those pale pink brows are drawn in concentration once more, and just like that she's done it perfectly. The smile that blossoms across her face is far too cute for a woman of twenty. Removing himself from the passenger side he comes around to the driver side to open the door for her as he has always done. He offers his hand to assist her from the vehicle, and she takes it in that shy manner that he has come to acquaint her with.

A hum escapes his mouth as he leads her to the passenger side, "Too ba—"

Her lips have come to press upon his cheek silencing him. That small frame of hers has been forced to step upon the tips of her toes, and her fingers have sought out comfort by tangling themselves within that pale pink skirt with lace at the ends. Obsidian watch as she lowers herself from him before uttering that soft thank you of hers. Ten shades of red doesn't quite cover the rich tint of her skin as she sits with the seat.

He wouldn't call them together, but he definitely wouldn't call them separate either. There's the smallest hint of a smirk as he makes his way around the car. He had teased her with the idea she'd have to give him that small little peck if she failed once more—it seems she had wanted to give it regardless. He takes his time gathering the cones and getting them tucked away within his trunk. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to allow her a small amount of time to let her blush cool.

Sitting within the car he readjusts the seat and his mirrors, "Where would you like to eat?" his question has her gazing at him as she radiates with all the shyness he's sure this woman can muster, "I promised a reward." The smirk he had been suppressing is still there but it has a touch of softness to it as his obsidian gaze within her pale green.

She's flicking her wrist up to allow her to gaze down at the time completely ignoring the clock upon the dash, "It is dinner time, maybe a sit down?"

He let's out a that hum of his that is always deep, and always smooth, "Ah, I've definitely got just the place in mind."

[ombreecha]

Opposites Attract

Series: Lifetimes Fandom: Naruto Pairing: SasuSaku Rated: T Prompt: We started racing up the three flights of stairs to class for some reason and we can't stop. 

All overbearing, and all blonde—that was how you could describe his best friend.

He shifts his eyes to the boy beside him. No. Scratch that. Blonde did not begin to cover the air-headed stupidity of his best friend. It was his fault they were running late to school to start. Naruto sat beside him giving way to idle chatter he held no interest in. It was his fault they were even in this mess to start, and here he was as animated and goofy as ever.

It truly made no sense how they became friends. Opposites attract they said, and it's that thought that gives way to a snort.

"Oi! Are you even listening to me, teme!?" Naruto leans into him with his scowl reaching his blues.

"Dobe." he couldn't help but snort again shoving his friend off him to create the much desired personal space he liked.

Sticking his hands within the black dress pants he slouches within his seat watching out the window of the underground rail system. If there was one thing he could give himself credit for it was being able to drown out the rambunctious ramblings Naruto fell prone too so often.

There is annoyance as they hear the call for their stop and the subway train began to decelerate. They're bringing themselves up holding onto the pole closest to them holding their footing and ground as others join to raise and make way for the opening of doors.

Out they are going with a powerful stride dodging through people. They're not late yet, but his best friend's whining at his speed isn't exactly helpful. He had perfect attendance and he'd be damned if he let this moron of his ruin that. Who cares about perfect attendance their Senior year? He does, and he definitely intended to keep it.

The scowl decorating his face gives way at the ridiculousness his friend is spouting toward him. He's still not answering back, but that's nothing new, and Naruto always did talk enough for the both of them. The stragglers who either were either barely on time or late are coming into view and it only makes him want to increase the speed in his stride more. Sliding his phone out of his pocket he gazes at the time upon his lock screen—God it was gonna be close.

Naruto has other plans for him though, and it's at his laughter and a swift pat to his ass that makes him give way to a chuckle at the blondes antics. Sliding his phone back within his pocket lets him race after him with a grin on his face as they pass multiple of their classmates. He hops towards the wall of the school gate kicking off it pulling his fist back just long enough to see the surprise written within the blonde's blue eyes. He can't stop his smirk as his fist collides with it's intended targets face.

He gives way to the smallest of chuckles at his friend holding his head within his arms as he adjusts his white button up, and bag upon his shoulder, "Such a dumbass."

"Fuck you, you ass!" his friend is hissing from the ground but there's a grin regardless of the harsh words uttered.

"Sasuke-kun! Naruto! You're gonna be late!" the feminine laugh that hit his ears has him removing the grin from his lips.

All pale pink, and sea-foam green—that's what Sakura Haruno was made of—she's the intelligent, and softhearted girl within his established 'close friends' circle. Never count her out, and never question any form of mischievousness that makes itself known in those sea-foam green. Those sea-foam green have never left him questioning, and it's as she runs up to them with the brown leather school bag upon her shoulder they bought her for her birthday—who is he kidding Naruto just slapped his name together with his when he gave it to her—that he knows she's up to something.

Her fingers run through his ebony strands in a messy manner as more laughs find their way out of her mouth and she has taken off. He's quick in following the beat she's running with as Naruto's yells to wait fall upon deaf ears. All he's focused on is catching up to her. She practically slams into her locker as she rushes to slip into the correct shoes, and he's doing his best to keep up almost hitting his own locker just a few away from her.

They are exchanging looks between his ebony, and her sea-foam as they rush, and there's the brightest of smiles giving way to her teeth that only makes his smirk upon his own features deepen. One second of hesitation is all she gives him before they are off again and she's weaving and dodging between those that would dare to block her path. The hollers the bystanders shout out are gruff demanding they watch, but just as with Naruto they have fallen completely on deaf ears. There's no ruining this game of chase. He's right on her heel, and he cannot contain the laugh deep within his throat, and as if his laugh was contagious she's giving out the highest of squeaks, and giggles at feeling him so close behind her. It's on the second flight of stairs they pass their History teacher, Anko, and she's screaming for them to stop running.

"Uchiha! Haruno!"

There's no stopping this game of theirs though. He has no intention of letting the girl of pale pink, and sea-foam green out of his reach. He's just about the grab her shoulder when she swings around to the next set of stairs, and he uses his long legs to his advantage to start skipping steps. She's giving way to high pitched squeals—god it's thrilling.

Class is the furthest thing from his mind at this point. What perfect attendance? He's a senior does it even matter in your last year? Hell if he knows, or cares at this point.

There's no clear finish line at first and yet that doesn't stop them from deciding the rooftop is the goal unspoken between their laughing and taunting. There's not much distance between them while their legs carry them down the hall with continued yells to slow down come from all who witness this childish little game of cat and mouse. He's considering letting her have her way until their feet hit the fourth set of stairs. Oh, no, no, no—Uchiha's down lose regardless of how dumb the game—he has no intention of letting her win. Her squeals have turned into calls of cheating as he moves passed her, and he can barely slide to a momentary stop as his fingers slide the door open. The warmth of the sun that hits his scalp feels amazing running to the caged fencing around the roof giving way to broken laughter as his lungs burn for oxygen. His fingers have curled into the metal fence and she's following not far behind him letting herself running into him with desperate attempts to gain air and sooth her own burning lungs.

"Cheater! Such a cheater." she calls between breathes her fingers have found their ways into his sleeve as she bends over with her hand upon her knee catching her breath.

It's gazing upon her disheveled cream cardigan, navy skirt that sits just a few inches above her knees twisted out of place, and her bag at her feet that he can't help but let out more deep laughs. This girl of pale pink, and sea-foam green can only look up to him with those ever mischievous eyes. She's the closest female to him, and he knows deep down she has feelings for him. Thoughts of them have circulated his mind more than he'd like to admit. This right here though is what he fears will change. He doesn't want to lose moments like this between them—and that's not even touching the subject of his best friend's crush.

The bell signaling the start of class rings around them echoing in the air. Her wide doe-eyes are staring up at him as she groans at being late. The gentle tugs she gives to fix her disheveled form makes his fingers uncurl from the fence to help her. She stands still as he shifts the cardigan to sit properly onto small frame and smooth out the sections that have chosen to bunch up around her arms. The smallest of touches between them makes this moment feel way more intimate than it should. Those fingers of hers are now shifting his half untucked white button up shirt and fixing his collar that has popped up within their little game. Her fingers are unbelievably careful with their attempts to fix his own appearance.

There's the smallest guilt bubbling within his stomach. They're not doing anything wrong, and yet he feels like he's doing his best friend since childhood wrong within these moment.

"I'm almost done so don't make such a displeased face." she's murmuring as her fingers find their way into his hair to bring it back to some form of a tamed state.

She never lingers longer than she should and she knows he likes his personal space, unlike certain other people. . .with blonde hair. It's as she runs those fingers once again this morning within his hair and touching his warmed scalp that he notes the dusting of pale pink upon her cheeks before retracting them to fix her own tangled long locks. Grabbing the straps of the leather bag he bought her for her birthday whilst adjusting his own properly upon his shoulder gives him time to question for the smallest of seconds if he needs to rein in his ego.

She is giving way to a thank you but he doesn't hand it to her. He walks passed her telling her to follow which she does with no hesitation in sight. They are scolded for their late attendance and childish antics through the halls. Anko is merciless in her public shame as she scolds them for their bad manners this morning making sure to remind them that they are seniors. His best friend is already within his seat—he evidently had been on time, that asshole—with his face holding a grin even the Cheshire cat would be envious of. It's after they take their seats and he's twirling his pencil within his fingers that he feels Naruto seeking to get his attention.

"Hey teme, where did you and Sakura run off?" the blonde is doing what he physically cannot. He hasn't mastered how to whisper even now.

Sasuke can only give the slightest tilts of his head as he rests his chin upon the back of his hand still holding his pencil. Naruto could never seem to get that you had to actually lower your voice more than two levels to succeed in producing a whisper, and like clockwork Anko is quick to scold him as she had done to him, and Sakura in their tardiness. The class follows through with their muffled laughs, and he can pick hers out instantly.

Ebony shift to the window to keep himself from letting his eyes find her seated just three seats diagonally from him. Why his blonde best friend wouldn't just get his confession over with was beyond him. He needed to be more diligent before someone swept in and took her from him. Never mind. There's a scoff at that idea.

It's not till lunch when they've taken their spot up on the roof awaiting her that he pops the question, "Why haven't you asked her out?"

"Huh? What do you mean?" the blondes brows have pinched together at the question seemingly caught off guard by his best friend.

"You like her. Why haven't you asked her?" he responds between bites of the six inch Italian sub he had acquired from the school store.

"Why bother? She's got a thing for you." this what makes him pause mid bite to watch the blonde give a shrug, "It might not be a verbal rejection, but it's enough of a rejection as any." he chews for a second and pauses once more—since when did Naruto of all people think things out like that?

"Ah." he hums out before continuing on with his food settling for the silence Naruto so rarely gives. Ebony fall upon the blonde thoroughly engulfed within his own lunch. He didn't seem to ever give Naruto enough credit in the maturity section. His friend always baffled him when he would give way to such statements that showed his slowly gained maturity. He lets out another hum, "Be careful. Someone will steal her from you."

"Sasuke-teme, stop acting like you don't like her already—it's annoying as hell." it is the snort that follows that makes him choke on his food giving way to harsh coughs and the pounding of his fist to his chest in hopes to dislodge the food from his esophagus. The blonde thinks it's funny.

"Oh god, Naruto, what did you do to Sasuke-kun now?" there's a raised pale pink eyebrow to go with that side of sass she's throwing towards his best friend with crossed arms and weight upon her right hip. Clearing his throat eases his coughing fit as Naruto lets out a whine.

Her eyes are fleeting upon the blonde before making their way to his ebony. Those sea-foam green of hers never leave him questioning.

She's all warmth within those eyes of hers as she looks at him. He didn't need the blonde to tell him such things. He knew with every look, and every action she took towards him how she felt. He found himself dabbling in the idea of him and her again.

The animated chatter between his two closest friends is what fills his lunch period. He does not know if he feels love towards this girl of pale pink, and sea-foam green. He did know, though, that Naruto might be on to something as strange as that might be. He would wait it out. He would see where they ended up. She will confess at some point before the end of the year, and maybe, hopefully, by then he would have a clearer idea as to what he felt towards her instead of tossing the what-ifs around his mind.

For now though he didn't want to miss out on any opportunities that came with their label of friendship. He could only hope there would be more moments like them racing up the stairs. Ebony fall upon his female friend as he chews another bite of his Italian sub.

She's all pale pink, and sea-foam green. He's all deep ebony, and more of the same. Opposites attract they said, and it's that thought that gives way to the smallest of smirks touching the corners of his mouth.

[ombreecha]

Brush of Fingers

Series: Lifetimes Fandom: Naruto Pairing: SasuSaku Rated: T Prompt: How about a reincarnation au but in sasuke's pov? Wherein everytime he sees sakura, he may not know her, but his heart always beat so fast and he can't explain it. Idea: Anonymous Note: . . . Don't even ask me why I was rhyming everything. I don't have a single clue wtf I was doing. Jesus take the wheel.

She’s never the same— It’s blood in the wind. Dust in the sky.

She’s the painting within his mind that he can’t find. Nothing can stop him from longing for her eyes. There’s no explanation, and always contemplation. It never goes away—the thinking. It echoes in empty rooms. Those strands are coaxing. Those eyes of hers—they glow.

There’s never a time or place—she is always there within his world, and he is always within hers. In a world where time always turns, and places are chase. Those lips are always curved. Nothing could stop him from longing for her. When the night gets cold he is never alone. He won’t remember her when he wakes—but it won’t lessen the shakes.

In this world that’s always turning all the time. Traces linger, and his heart quivers. The brush of fingers—enemies or lovers? She’s the picture within his mind—

Flutters of lids and the turn of his head. Pale rose-colored strands spill within his bed. The rise that comes within her chest is steady, and slow lost within a world far different from their own. Obsidian are tender upon this woman who dances within her dreams. Warm and soothing is her essence as she curls within her sleep. She’s come closer and there’s no stopping the stretch of his arm to bring her nearer.  This woman was coaxing in the brush of her fingers. The even breaths she breathes within her lull are like those of a siren’s call. Inhalation, and the calmest of sensations—she’s floral.

How long had he been away from her? He had been gone for so long and within the dimensions that threatened. Yet, here she had stayed forever understand and never demanding. She’s the girl who had loved for so long, and yet just as she had within their childhood, and teens she never quitted. He’s humming within her hair—she’s the picture within his mind that he could find.

Those lips are always curved. Nothing could stop him from longing for her. When the night gets cold he is never alone. He won’t remember her when he wakes—but it won’t lessen the shakes.

It’s the clearing of his best friend’s throat that captures his attention. This man of blonde, and blue is grinning as if he was winning. He knows he’s been rude within his daydream, and the apology is out before he’s ruined the mood. Naruto was getting married—the woman beside him so much her namesake—she’s pale rose-colored strands, and a glowing that demands.

They’re just meeting for the first time, and yet it’s her presence that sits so odd. He cannot explain the rate in which his heart beats against his chest. He’s sinking within this hollow ground with faces and places so nameless. There’s no denying the pride he feels at seeing his best friend so overcome within his announcement of marriage—he’s only denying the speed at which his heart beats for her. Finger’s stir the coffee within his cup. She’s a nice enough girl, but she’s his best friend’s girl. Swallowing thickly he attempts to stop the call of his eyes to her. There’s a warmth that flows through her, and that’s all he needs to know—that’s what brought her to woah his friend. There’s a brush of those fingers—it’s the rush he gets when their gone.

There’s never a time or place—she is always there within his world, and he is always within hers. In a world where time always turns, and places are chase. It almost seems like it’s an absolute waste. In this world that’s always turning all the time. Nothing could stop his longing for her.

She’s never the same— It’s blood with the wind. That’s why she shouldn’t have came.

This lake of fire is burning his skin. When had their love become so thin? She’s the temptress in the form of an empress. He’s dug through her down to his hilt, and she’s all but wilt. Those lips of hers are curved, and those eyes of hers—they glow. Nothing could stop him from hurting her somehow. Tonight is one that’s cold, and now he’s all alone. She’s been sacrificed by his malice. The cry that echoes is but a simple why.

She had gotten within the fray, but that had always been her way. She’d promised to take away his pain within her rein. He had done the unthinkable—he had cut her down to get to his prey because just like her that was his way. The flutter of those lids has him uttering more of the same whys. She’s the picture within his mind with the brush of those fingers. They dance upon his hilt to take his in hers—to take them in mine.

In this world that’s always turning all the time. Traces linger, and his heart quivers. She’s the picture within his mind—she’s a classic within the flow of time.

She’s a nurse—one with an absolute curse. She’s got a fire that never seems to tire. He’s just a doctor, and she’s just the helping hand. She’s the one that’s brought him papers—it’s that brush of those fingers. It’s a heart beat that won’t dare stay within it’s keep. It’s the surge, and a merge—yet it won’t be what keeps her. This here is where they’ll diverge.

Gone, and but not always for long. Dusting cheeks, with words unspoke. He’s alone, but it won’t be for long. His worlds full of red, but there is no dread. The woman who holds him isn’t what molds him. He won’t leave his fiancee—she’s the one leaving within a transfer. She’s the one painted within his mind.

Nothing can stop him from longing for her eyes. There’s no explanation, and always contemplation. It never goes away—the thinking. It echoes in empty rooms. Those strands are coaxing.

Those eyes of hers—they glow.

It’s the startle in all of it’s marvel—a brush of those fingers and the showing of his royal flush. The games been won, but he’s far from done. The click of his fingers upon the table add another bidding to his corner. He’s cleaning house, but he’s as silent as a mouse. She’s the dealer, and he’s the player. Her mind’s ticking, and his fingers are still clicking. There’s no explanation it’s truly all just contemplation. The speed of his heart is all that makes him wish to recede. Those strands of hers are short—pale and rose. Glowing viridian are completely unknowing—she’s looking to find how he’s cheating. It’s got him retreating. He’s won enough for one night—he’s out of town on the next flight. She’s the painting within his mind that he can’t find. Nothing can stop him from longing for her eyes.

Those lips are always curved. Nothing could stop him from longing for her. When the night gets cold he is never alone. He won’t remember her when he wakes—but it won’t lessen the shakes in a world that’s turning all the time.

She’s a dwarf—dangerous, of course. He’s got his bow pointed on her. Elvish and there’s a history there. These creatures so short in stature—he could easily match her. He’s quick within his shot, but she’s not so easily crossed. The slam of her axe sends the impact. The ground has shattered, and they’re within battle. There’s no reason—just distaste, and a lack of tact. He’s all but willing to shoot her down, but it’s that close quarters that’s got him stumbling back. This woman so small has given into her fall. They’re crashed, and smashed. She’s not heavy even with her face heated. A brush of fingers have set within his hair lost within a linger.

There’s no realization for his heart beat that’s quickened. He’s brushing it off claiming it to be flushing. She’s scrambling to give him space. This fight of theirs is over without a trace. There’s no moment in which he thinks he’ll see her again. Little had he known this had only began. She’s the picture within his mind—

She’s never the same—but she’s always her name. He’s become such a heavyhearted thinker. He’s sure in another life he must have been a drinker. She never goes away. He just barely manages to keep her at bay. She paints a picture within his mind—and he’s desperate it to leave it all behind.

The heat is driving them crazy. The world that’s always turning is but a flicker within the time—wild and west, but he’s always got his crest. She’s pressing and holding as they’re trotting. A swallow is thick at her so close. He’s all but panicked under it all. It’s a brush of fingers upon his clothed form that lingers. The beat at which they ride does little to stop the heat. He would never leave her behind—she’s silently everything he could have hoped to find.

Town after town—they’re really just making rounds. She can be chatty, and most certainly catty. There’s nothing he’d want more though. When they night gets cold she never leaves him alone. In this world that turns all the time there’s no doubt he’s longing for those eyes.

He won’t remember her when he wakes—but it won’t lessen the shakes.  Those strands are coaxing. Those eyes of hers are glowing. There’s never a singular time or place, and yet they couldn’t be more chase. She’s forever within his world, and he is always in hers.

He’s a gasp—it’s truly more of a rasp. She’s not spilled within his bed—he’s all alone. Fingers brush within those obsidian long since drenched. He’s moving, and then he’s looking so disapproving. There’s the notice of bags from under his eyes and that urge to remember that which had woken him. He hasn’t remembered her once again within this morning. He’s questioning why it feels as though he’s mourning.

It’s this world that’s turning all the time. There’s the paint within his mind but he’s resigned to leave it all behind. Traces linger, and his heart quivers. It’s not stopping him from walking out the door as he’s buttoning his shirt even more. Steps are solid as he’s making for the subway. The sun is out to remind him of this loved one. She’s never the same—she’s just a whisper within the wind. Nothing can stop him from wanting her somehow. His mind is sinking within the ground.

It’s not until the night brings cold he’s decided he’ll stay alone.

She’s just a stranger but she’s not one of danger. She’s seated upon this subway train and she’s the painting within his mind that he could never seem to find. She’s there right within his grasp—if only he could make it last. They no nothing of one another, and yet it doesn’t stop the flow of his eyes to look upon her. It’s a movement of the train that brings a brush of fingers. Long strands of pale rose, and eyes that glow—it’s what makes his heart gong. There’s no explanation just more of that same contemplation. The apologies she’s given are but another added to these anthologies.

He’s never understood but if he could he would.

There’s always a moment—he’s missed more than he’s found. She’s always within his world, and he would always be within hers. He’s lost another of these chances, and there will be no advances. There’s only himself to blame. If only he could remember her all the same.

He’s going his way, and she’s going hers. She spares no glances, but it’s on this one he takes his chances. There’s no explanation for why he feels her pull him. There’s only that contemplation of him being a fool. Words continue unspoken as they watch her within her walk away unbroken. This is where they diverged once again unable to merge. It’s a shake of his head that brings him from the quake he feels. She’s never the same—and neither is he. It’s just another wasted moment as he heads in the opposite direction.

In this world that’s always turning all the time he’s missed her sweet chime. Traces of her will continue to linger, and his heart beat will always quiver. The brush of fingers—are what bring the spiked rush that will continue to linger.

She’s just the picture within his mind he could never hope to find. Nothing could stop him from longing for those eyes within his subconscious mind.

They won’t always be alone.

[ombreecha]

Perhaps

Series: Lifetimes Fandom: Naruto Pairing: SasuSaku Rated: K Prompt: i meant for that snowball to hit my friend but you came around the corner at the last second and now we're having a snowball fight

The chilled air brings her nose to a red hue as she stands at the snow covered corner waiting for her best friend to make her grand appearance. The snow that falls is light and fluffy as it accumulates upon the ground beneath her. There’s no missing the crunch it makes as she shuffles her knees backwards and forwards in an attempt to keep warm. The charcoal jacket with a hood lined in faux fur, extra large white sweater, white knit toboggan with the over-sized ball of fluff upon the top, and light gray scarf is a blessing, and yet there’s the silent regret in her choice of black leather pants.

There’s no use in crying over it now though. There was always a point in making herself presentable when she went shopping with the blonde. Ino always seemed to look phenomenal and while she never feels threatened there’s that silent urge to put a little bit more care into herself when they go out in public. There’s the pull of her phone from her pocket, and the quick look at the time before sliding it back within the jacket.

She could crash at a cafe, or maybe look within the bookstore down the street, but she’s no fool—she knows the minute she’d wander away the blonde would arrive. That’s always how it works, and she’s not going to let it happen if she can help it.

The weeks of work, and constant need to catch up on sleep had separated them for too long and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t miss her best friend. There was the texts between their last meet up and now, but it’s not quite the same as being within the presence of the self-confident and outgoing blonde. Rubbing her fingers together she brings them to cover her nose and mouth letting out a puff of hot air to warm the chilled digits.

She’s no fan of winter, but she can appreciate it’s beauty. The best times were when she could curl upon her couch with a book in hand as the snow fell softly outside her window. They’re few and in between with her hectic schedule, but she can still appreciate it none the less. Her phone buzzes within her pocket and she’s gazing upon the text.

The best friend is close, and there’s the desire to be childish in getting payback for having to wait. The few people who pass by pay her no mind as she squats down to dig her already chilled digits into the snow gathering what she can to prepare the snowball she intends to launch. The snow isn’t too powdery, but it isn’t too wet either. The grin that comes across her face is absolutely sinful, and hides little of her childish antics.

There’s the press of her back against the brick wall and a peek out around the corner. She doesn’t see her yet, and that just means she can continue packing what she’s gathered. There’s a moment and then a second, and then there’s three before she feels the smash against her face. It’s not painful—but it’s entirely chilling, and entirely wet.

The whip of her head comes and then there goes the blonde in her pale blue jacket, and patterned sweater tights. The shock has washed off her features, and the grin is spreading wide once again feeling the challenge presented by the blonde. They’re twenty-six but that doesn’t mean they’ve outgrown such childish play. She’s sliding around the corner with her arm stretched back. There’s the release of the snow from her hand that she had prepared—and then there’s the direct hit.

Except it didn’t hit her friend. It hit a complete stranger. It hit a boy of ebony locks that curl within the back, and hang upon the sides of his face. It hit a boy with wide eyes and slightly parted jaw right in his chest.

Fingers fly up to her mouth with a gasp escaping her lips. It hadn’t been to long, a second or maybe two if she’s really counting, since she had been peeking around this corner that one or two had walked upon. There’s no way she can wash off the wide doe-eyed look upon her face. There’s the absolute raw laughter begging to escape from the base of her throat—a snort falls muffled within her hands. She can only beg herself to maintain composure, and remind herself to apologize quickly. There’s no missing the blonde’s open snort within the air and high pitched snicker with her own failed attempt to suppress her laughter.

“Ah! I’m sorr—”

She never saw it coming—

She had foreseen his anger. She had foreseen him screaming at her. She had foreseen him ridiculing her for her childish antics, and bad aim. She had even considered the idea that he would call her a nasty name or too.

What she hadn’t foreseen was him brushing the snow off, reaching down grabbing snow within his fingers, the draw back of his arm—and the lunge of the snow that would proceed to fly and hit her in the face. The motion had been far quicker than expected. The act had been swift without a second of hesitation.

It’s as if she missed it within a blink—maybe four if she’s honest.

She’s not one to back down though and she’s back to grabbing more snow within her hands and he’s following her lead with the drop of his messenger bag. The snicker that had been within the base of her throat is falling from her lips unable to be contained, and there’s the smallest of chuckles that fall from his own with a the cockiest smirk across his lips. The high pitched squeals of her best friend is within the air as she watches her attempt to dodge the on coming snowball, and the launch of her own.

The snickers are turning to outright laughter, and he’s letting out the most ridiculous snort as he hits her arm, and he hits her stomach. They’re absolutely disrupting the public, but this is fun and she has no intention of stopping.  A Snowball hits her shoulder, and she’s hit him within the chest before he’s coming at low to the ground with fingers scrapping up what snow he can.

The squeal that now falls from her has her retreating back around the corner and there’s the hit upon her back as she reaches to grab more snow. She hasn’t even made it up from her kneeling position before she’s throwing back behind her and he’s rubbing snow upon her head. The newest squeak that falls from her is high pitched and loud followed by more laughter, and the yell of her best friend.

“Hey that’s cheating!” she’s snickering as she turns around to plant snow upon his muted blue jacket.

“Says the one throwing snow to begin with.” he’s giving another throaty snort in his reply.

“I’m sorry! It was aimed at my friend, I swear!” she laughs as she backs away throwing another ball of the fluffy white his way.

There’s a noise of a response from him as he’s bending down to gather more taking the hit—and jesus is the amount far larger than it had been within his previous snowballs.

“Come on you kids!” Ino has called out shaking her head with the widest of smiles—the bag he had dropped within their game hands across her chest.

They’re ignoring her though for the launch of more snow at each other. She’s missed him and hit Ino making it two against one, and they’re dodging through the people who tell them to stop. They’re not stopping this is fun, and so much more exciting than it should be.

She hasn’t had this kind of thrill in a while, and it’s only after she slips within the snow and lands flat on her butt that she is nailed once more within her face.

“I give! I give!” she’s squeaking as she wipes the snow from her face out of breath.

There’s that noise of a response and an under handed toss of the last bit of snow he’d gathered to land right on her leg. Her blonde best friend is not far behind—that’s what she gets for wearing heeled boots.

The sound of snow crunching beneath his feet makes her pale green slide up his form that stands before her. She’s not sure why she’s just now digesting this boy she had been throwing snow at, but there’s no denying his handsome features. He’s dressed for the weather—far better then her—with his  muted blue jacket zipped all the way up to his throat, washed out jeans, and light brown boots. Her lips can only part within her curiosity as he bends down and extends his hand towards her.

The absolutely frigid digits remove themselves from the snow and take his own equally frosted hand. He pulls her up with little to no effort making her rock upon her heel. She’s rubbing her fingers together to stimulate some warmth.

“Sorry for hitting you.” she’s sheepish within her apology.

“Ah, so you say.” he raises an eyebrow as he stuffs his hands within his coat.

There’s the strangest tension between them as his eyes stay upon her fixing her hair and brushing the snow from her coat. She’s not sure what you would call this tension. It’s not suffocating, and it’s not overwhelming in a bad way. There’s the hope that this male thinks the red hue upon her cheeks is from the cold. It’s the voice of the blonde that finally cuts through this unknown tension, and her stops coming to stand beside them.

“Sorry for getting you caught in the cross fire.” there’s no denying the humor that’s laced within the blonde’s words as she removes his bag and holds it out.

He’s brushing the snow from his arm, and quick to pat it from his own pants before accepting his bag back and placing it back upon his own person, “It’s whatever.”

There’s the oddest of looks from her blonde—there’s a raise of her blonde brows and the shift of her eyes upon her green, and their flick towards the male.

He says nothing stuffing his hands back within the warmth of his jacket and a nod in their direction before turning to leave and get back upon his way. There’s no missing the puff of the blonde’s cheek and the far to strong of a nudge against her shoulder—oh, there’s no missing the blonde’s efforts.

“Go ask him for his number.” she’s whispering out. “Ino, I don’t even know him.” the pout upon her face and the dip of her brows comes, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Oh, please, you just had a snowball fight with the guy. Go!” she gives way to a snort not taking the excuse given.

The smallest groan leaves her knowing she’d never hear the end of it. There’s possible rejection, but even so the chances of ever running into this guy again is slim—that’s what she tells herself at least as she throws her hand up with a yell.

He’s turning with his lips pressed firm, and his eyebrows raised, and there’s the absolute need to bury her head within the snow as her nerves begin to make themselves known. The deep inhale she takes in is done in hopes of settling such nerves. Her jog is steady and that wonderful crunch beneath her feet makes her hope he can’t hear how hard her heart is beating.

“Ah, well, you see—I” she’s mumbling in front of him gazing at his chest—there’s too much fear in seeing his expression in this tension that’s made it’s way between them once more, “Well. I—I was wondering if maybe I could. . . ask for. . .” she’s resorted to speaking softly feeling every shy fiber of her being rearing its head, “—your number?”

He shifts his weight from one leg to another, and it’s only now that she dares to look up and see what expression is across his face. He’s no longer firm pressed lips, and raised eyebrows. It’s the most lackadaisical expression she’s ever seen and it only makes her want to flinch in what she can only assume is rejection. He looks absolutely bored with her request.

“Sure.” he says with his hand reaching within his jean pocket to pull out his phone.

There’s a blink—five, or six if she’s being honest—and then there’s the stare she’s giving as if she feels like she’s heard him wrong. The silence between them is awkward, and it’s making him raise one of his brows, and that same noise of a response he’s exhibited within the snowball fight.

“Ah! Right—sorry!” she’s reaching within her jacket’s pocket pulling her own phone out, “I’m Sakura Haruno.”

He’s taking her phone and clicking away upon his phone’s screen, “Sasuke Uchiha.”

It only takes moments before he’s handing her phone back, and his thumb still moves upon the keyboard of his phone. She’s rocking back and forth upon her heel in the slowest movements and the blush across her face is deepening—there’s no trying to feign this as being brought by the cold air.

His fingers stuff the phone back within his jean pocket, and it’s partner has wrapped themselves around the strap of his bag. There’s a buzz within her pocket, and she there’s no doubt that it’s from him. She’s not sure if what’s playing on the corner of his lips is amusement but she can only hope it is before his voice cuts through the never faltering tension, “Try not to hit anyone else with snowballs, Sa—ku—ra.”

He’s teasing within the pronunciation of her name before giving the smallest wave of his hand before he’s leaving her there to stand within this snow that crunches. Arms wrap around her neck from behind and there’s the humor laced voice of her best friend, “Look at you go!” she’s snickering, “I didn’t think you’d actually do it!”

Little does her blonde best friend seem to realize she hadn’t realized she would actually go through with it either. There’s the pull of her phone out of her pocket once more, and the swipe of her thumb across the notification for a text message. Ino rubs her cheek against her own as she seeks to peek upon the text.. There’s the dart of her eyes between the words across the screen and his form that continues to increase the distance between them.

She hadn’t foreseen so much of this interaction between them. She hadn’t foreseen him actually giving his number, but then again she hadn’t foreseen anything this man would do since the beginning. He’s grabbed her interest, and evidently she’s grabbed his.

She’s no fan of winter—but perhaps she had been hasty. Perhaps she could become a fan of winter.

[ombreecha]

Other Fish, and Mister Rights

Series: Lifetimes Fandom: Naruto Pairing: SasuSaku Rated: T Prompt: Yes, I know this is your sweatshirt and that we broke up five months ago but it's really comfy okay. I totally don't wear it because like it still smells like you or is the only thing that even remotely feels like home since I moved out. Pfft. Absolutely not.

Break ups.

Everyone she's ever met had been through them from her close friends to acquaintances. Her best friend had been through multiple and had always seemed to bounce back stronger than ever citing that the boy who had let her go just was not the right one. There's the slightest roll of her eyes at that mentality.

It's standing in this one bedroom apartment she's finally unpacked herself into that really shatters the revelation that there was no going back. The ceiling of white, and rough texture overhead was nothing like the smooth one she knew well. The kitchen was smaller than the one she had spent the last few years cooking, and cleaning on her days off. The bedroom did not hold the same warmth she had grown accustomed too. The place didn't hold the fragrance that was so undeniably them—her floral mixing with his earthly almost cinnamon scent.

She can only huff at her train of thought. It was a new chapter and a new start. Moving forward is what she needed to do. It's falling back within the chair and flipping through the channel guide that distracts her in the eerie quiet of her new home. She was long past the days of chocolate ice cream tubs, and sappy love stories to lighten her mood. The silence of the room eats away at her though. The apartment is almost suffocating in its newness.

Standing her ground had always been a strength of hers. She would not let this drive her away. She was adaptable she'd learn to live peacefully within her new home.

Home—the word tasted almost bitter in her mouth.

It's days in she thinks she's adjusting to her new apartment. The hospital keeps her busy, and preoccupied. The job is a blessing in disguise as it had been the last five months. It kept her from thoughts lingering of ebony eyes, and pale skin. It kept her from seeing soft smirks, and an upraised eyebrow.

Interning at the hospital gave her feeling and life when her own was falling apart around her. Doctor Tsunade was guiding her down this road and she couldn't be more thankful to the woman. She had been kind, and knowledgeable and kept her from falling off track. The blonde too had cited there was other fish in the sea.

She felt the curve of her lips turn into the cheapest of smiles. What no one seemed to realize is she didn't want other fish—she didn't want other men. She had wanted him, and only him.

He sadly didn't want her though.

The thought is as bitter as her definition of home, but it's as she's following into the next appointment behind her mentor that she clears her mind to focus on the tasks at hand. There's pride in her work, and the troubles of the twenty-six year old girl she was outside these walls could wait.

Days turn to weeks, and she's finally thinking she's finding stability within the walls of her new home. There is a whisper in her head that tells her she's just ignoring it all, and she knows it's true but that's not going to stop her. This is working for a good bit, but all good things have to come to an end.

The sweatshirt she sees deep within her closet ends it all. There's no denying it's his. She's not even sure how she had made off with it. It's a deep rich navy, and long in the sleeves. Her fingers find their way onto the cloth removing it from the hanger that holds it. It carries a hint of his scent, and she can't help but cling it to her chest as she lets tears that she thought had long since dried roll down her cheeks. There's a shudder of a breath—she needs to get a grip. It's time to grow up she's not sixteen.

Curiosity makes her slide it on over her head. Standing in front of the vertical mirror on her wall she notes it's baggy on her, but that only helps to make it comfortable, and man does it makes her feel at home. She missed this, no, she missed him.

Pushing the sleeves up she grabs for her red beanie to keep the chill off. There's a need to visit her favorite cafe the fear to go there since their break up washed away with this simple sweatshirt of his. Maybe this was another form of letting go?

The trip is quick, and she's beaming as she sips her salted caramel mocha, and nibbles at her egg and sausage sandwich. She muses within her head that she dares someone to question her breakfast food in the middle of the afternoon.

The days that follow go quickly and she's fallen into a good routine. She's using his shirt for lounge wear, and it's got her smiling a little brighter, and walking a little taller each day that comes and goes. It's a momentary happiness within her world when she's not Sakura Haruno, the intern at Konoha Hospital but Sakura Haruno, the heartbroken twenty-six year old.

She's been given a Saturday off this week and she welcomes it gladly after so many late nights, and early mornings. There would be no heels, no skirts, and no blouses today. She's slipping the sweatshirt over her head preparing to go out before slipping on her readers. She's meeting her loudmouthed best friend for some shopping, but before that she's craving another coffee, and breakfast sandwich from her beloved cafe.

It's as she's waiting she pulls her rose-colored stands up into a messy bun, and reading through her social media feeds. There is no notice of the eyes that watch her form or the notice of the firm pressed lips set in her direction. Her names called and she takes the order with a smile giving a thank you before turning to finally take notice in the male that's all ebony and all pale. Her hand has halted in bringing the white paper cup to her lips.

He's everything she remembers with his one upraised eyebrow, and soft smirk. He's walking toward her and she feels her heart flutter darting her eyes from his to the polished floor beneath her feet. Her mind is screaming to start walking. They were a long list of used-to-be's, and now nothing more than strangers. His shoes come within her gaze upon the floor and it only makes her throat constrict at his closeness as he stands before her clad in jeans, and an almost identical long sleeve shirt—this one's charcoal. Prayers enter her mind that he won't realize she's wearing his shirt.

The anxiety she feels is awkward and thick as she swallows and, oh god she's rambling, "This isn't what it looks like and I mean I don't wear this thinking of you—us—or whatever it is this probably looks like, and I mean it's comfy and I just—"

"Sakura." his voice sends an almost physical shake throughout her being, and it's just as smooth and deep as it always had been.

It's enough to make her look to him properly instead of leaving her gaze awkwardly on the floor. There's thoughts of the harsh words that fell from their lips in their argument that ended it all, there's thoughts of every tear she's shed since he broke up with her, and there's the thought of his eyes on her as she closed the door to the apartment that was once theirs.

She doesn't know at what point she mindlessly followed him to a table and sat with her coffee and food untouched in front of her. There is the need to remove her eyes from her fidgeting fingers upon her lap, and to excuse herself. Pale green are almost shy as they looked to see him, and he almost looks bored with his head resting in his palm. He's looking out the window of the small cafe in what looked to be boredom—it only serves to remind her she never truly had a clue what he was thinking or feeling—and that other hand his drumming lightly upon the table.

The silence is thick between them, and it only serves to make her bitter that even now, five months later no less, she doesn't know what to say to him. The lines she had rehearsed in all of her made up possibilities of if she ever saw him again seemingly lost within this moment. The drumming stops and he shifts those ebony she had loved so much to her. God does he look tired.

They're still not speaking, and it feels like the argument that had quickly repeated within her mind only a small moment ago is echoing loudly within the establishment. Fingers are curling and uncurling and it serves to only make her fidget.

"Ah, Sasuke-kun—I mean Sasuke-san—I need to be going Ino is waiting for me." her voice is soft and hesitant, and she's mentally screaming at herself for using the affectionate suffix upon his name. They are used-to-be.

He still doesn't speak and it's enough to frustrate her to remove herself from the table. Grasping her cup of coffee, and taking her sandwich in her other hand she starts to raise.

"I've missed you." his voice is muffled from his hand, and she feels like she's completely heard him wrong causing her brows to pinch together.

"What?" she whispers standing fully as she watches him fidget at her question.

He bites his bottom lip reflexively. She's seen it enough times now to know it's habitual, "I miss you."

The words make her flex her fingers upon the poor cup within her grasp. She wants to yell at him. She wants to scream at him. She wants to cry out at his claim. Five months. It had been five months since he watched her walk out that door, five months since she practically drowned within tears wondering all the whys and what she did wrong, five months since she first moved back in with her parents, and only one since she found her new place, and it had been five months of absolute longing and torture knowing she didn't want other fish in the sea, or other mister rights—she had just wanted him.

"It doesn't work that way." she mutters gaining his movement to look up at her, "We—you broke up with me?" there is a shudder at the question.

His hand has finally found it's partner giving it a notable squeeze, "I know." he almost sounds pained at admitting it.

There's a shifting of her weight unsure of how to proceed. The smart intern tells her to walk away, but the heartbroken twenty-six year old tells her to stay. She is not Sakura Haruno, intern at Konoha Hospital, right now. She knows she is Sakura Haruno, the heartbroken girl, in these moments, and god does she know she's going to stay right here and listen to whatever he says to her.

The realization is enough to make her set her things back onto the table and sit back down. Elbows rest upon the table as fingers dig within her rose-colored stands pulled into the messy bun. Palms are pressed against her forehead as she gazes at the table, "I cried so much."

"I know." his voice sounds even more pained in this admittance.

"I wondered all the whys, and what I could have done better."

"I know."

"I moved out."

"I know."

"I hoped—waited."

"I know."

Every statement she whispers gives way to the feeling of her chest tighten in that familiar way it does when she's about to cry, and with every response he lets fall she can hear the words tightening laced in what she guesses is bitterness, regret, and assumed panic.

"Why, Sasuke-kun?" her lips are pressing firmly to keep herself together, and force back the stringing tears that threaten to fall.

"Sakura." his voice is a shudder as he pronounces her name, and his fingers have found their way upon on of her own pulling it from her face.

His actions force her to close her lids to keep herself from looking at him. The tears she had tried to keep at bay leave their place to hit the table. Her body shakes as she tries to keep herself together. She cannot and will not break down in this cafe. There is the feeling of his lips upon her knuckles as his hands hold onto the one he has pried from her face. Each kiss is soft and short with hesitance as if he's afraid he'll scare her from him—as if she'll disappear out of his world.

"I came here every day." the admittance he gives is weak toned as if it is taking everything he has to say such a thing.

She croaks out a strangled why, and he's taken her hand from his lips to the table rubbing soothing circles upon her palm, "It's your favorite place—I missed you." she knows he really means that he hoped to find her here.

She's pulling at her hair roughly as she continues forward, "What do you want?"

The chair he sits in is scratching against the floor as she feels him standing and pulling her form from her own. Her free hand has come up to shield her face from any who might see her in such a tearful state. He's shuffling more placing her cup within her hand. His hand has settled for holding her food and pressing upon her back leading her from the cafe.

He knows she will hate herself later if they continue this here, and he knows she likes to handle their matters privately away from prying unknown eyes.

She is settling her heart as they walk into the cool air. There's the smallest note to text Ino, and apologize for standing her up. Clearing her throat she sips her barely warm coffee, "There's a lot for us to work out."

His fingers run up her back and laying upon the joint of her neck, and shoulder allowing his thumb to rub soothing circles at the back of her neck, "I know."

There is a shake within her being as she tries to keep herself calm. There is no true destination. He won't lead her to their place—no it was his place now—and she wouldn't lead him to hers. All the problems that had been overlooked, and all the things they had said needed fixed before they got to the point.

The scent of his shirt fills her nose with the deep breath she takes. The scent is comforting in this moment, and it reminds her of the home she had months prior, and may have with him in the future, "I'm wearing your shirt." she lets out a broken shudder of a laugh.

"I know." his voice only bares the smallest of pain in her admittance as he gives a gentle squeeze at the base of her neck.

There were other fish in the sea, and yet none of them would be him. None of them would have the same earthly almost cinnamon scent that made her feel at home. There were other potential mister rights in the world, and yet none of them could ever be home to her in the way that he was. None of them would have his ebony eyes, pale skin, soft smirks, or an upraised brow.

Regardless of how things went from here she would move forward to see where it led her. She would move forward to find her way back home. She would move forward in hope that it led to him.

She didn't want other fish, or mister rights—She just wanted him.