#but deidara never did come back | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bridgetotheskyyy · 2 years

Text

Apprentice.

Summary: Deidara visits an old friend. Rating: 18+, smut Warnings: Stalking, psychological trauma/drama/abuse, violence, blood, abuse, implied dacryphilia, noncon, dubcon, panic attacks, insomnia, dark themes, darkfic Word count: 12k

They say how you meet someone is how they leave you. But, as you swallow the thick of your terror, you realize he might have never left.

“Oh gods,” your friend gawks, inching closer to the artwork. “Is this one of yours, (Y/n)? It’s amazing! I didn’t even know you did self-portraits!”

You do not answer her. Fear wraps around your throat like a physical hand. The sculpture is, without a doubt and objectively, beautiful; its ivory color stings your eyes. It is you in art form; from the precision of your knuckles to the accuracy of your eye shape; to the planes of your calves to the curves of your waist. The depiction is uncanny.

But it does not stop you from becoming delirious with dread.

Your friend raises a head to the sculpture. “How did you do it?” she asks with admiration.

As your friend draws closer to the piece, you back away, hyper-aware of your surroundings.

“… I didn’t.”

“Hm?”

A beat. Your friend faces you, curiosity raising her brow.

“Then …” her attention returns to the piece. “Who left this for you?” Then, she gasps, delighted. “Is it a gift? Do you have a secret admirer?”

You release a shuddering exhale. It is a long while before you breathe again.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You start calling him Deidara-sensei ironically at first, no matter how true it becomes later.

You hold up the tiny clay bird for his view. “What do you think of this, Deidara-sensei?”

He always scoffs at the honorific, but you know he likes it — he enjoys being admired.

Because that’s how it started, didn’t it? You had elbowed the group of kids laughing at Deidara’s work and defended him, told him how amazing his art was and expelled the other kids, told them to get away, fuckheads. You would never forget the light birthed in his eyes at your appreciation. But why? You couldn’t have been the first to tell him this?

… Right?

Deidara glances at your little bird — the shape meant to flatter him — made from the clay he allowed you to borrow. He scoffs at that now, leaning against the little nook on the rooftop.

“It’s all right — for a beginner, anyway,” he says.

You lower your offering to him, analyze your bird, hope deflated.

“What’s wrong with it?” you ask.

Deidara’s ringed gaze lingers on the novice sculpture. You follow his gaze; you certainly can’t tell what’s wrong with it — and perhaps that’s the experiential gap between your talent and his — with its fat little physique, its folded wings, now coming to glow in the dying sunset light of day, the detail of the feathers at the fringes of aforementioned wings. It seemed perfect to you.

You look back to Deidara — only to catch him gazing at you instead of your creation.

He turns promptly, huffing. “The head and body aren’t even proportioned,” Deidara rises a second finger like he is counting down the list of your offenses. “And the whole thing would tilt over if you weren’t holding it in your palms — amateur.”

You roll your eyes, hugging your utter monstrosity to your chest. “Geez. You don’t have to be so mean about it, Dei.”

“You said you wanted my help.”

“Still, You could’ve been nicer about it …”

A pause. Deidara leans against the railing of the rooftop with a sigh.

“Look, I’m sorry, all right?” Deidara says. “It’s good and all, it just needs work. You dedicate yourself to art for long enough, you learn that everything does. There’s no such thing as the perfect piece, but it can always be better. Never forget that.”

“Okay,” You say. “Understood.”

You let your bird settle on the ground — and, sure enough, the creature dips on its side, waddling to stillness.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You seem excited.”

Deidara pauses. In retrospect, he should’ve known; his partner knows him too well, at this point, to not notice the tremble in his fingers, the rise of heat in his blood, in his veins.

When Pain greeted them that day with a new assignment, he had his share of offers, but Deidara usurped them all; Deidara was adamant to be the one to go, and their fierce leader had no objections — no one did, once there was time for consideration; the Stone Village was Deidara’s turf. No one knew it better.

He was going back to Iwakagure.

“Hm,” was all Deidara said at first, eyes and hands on the things essential for the trip. I already blew it — might as well not make him more suspicious. “It’s been a long time.”

“I would’ve thought you’d consider it a drag to go back,” Sasori says against the wall. “Scheduling a little detour while we’re there?”

“Is that any of your business?”

“No, I suppose not,” Sasori let the silence, the rhythmic drip, drip, drip, in the great cavernous space speak for him before adding, “I’ve just never seen you so … enthusiastic about our assignments. About anything really — except that damned art of yours. I wondered what was up.”

Deidara let the moment hang himself. Sasori wasn’t wrong — he was planning a detour. Several, in fact, if all went well. He narrowed his eyes at the wall as he felt Sasori’s gaze on his back.

Ah, what’s the trouble with letting him know.

“Well, You’re right, anyway,” Deidara said. “I do have something planned.”

“… Oh?”

“… Yeah,” Deidara said.

“… I wonder what?” Sasori replies in a tone that implies he very much wants detail.

Deidara raises to stand. He turned to face his partner. “There’s someone I need to see.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You’re just so earnest about everything.

When he and you first become friends, everything he makes excites you. He’s not surprised when you come to him one day, asking for him to teach you how to do the whole “art thing,” as you call it. He has to teach you everything, which is both frustrating and oddly liberating; you know nothing about depth or the right utensils to use for what or negative space when he begins teaching you.

“Am I gonna have to teach you how to use a fucking pencil, too?” he quips one day, face-palming.

“You’re such an ass sometimes, Dei,” the insult sits between giggles.

“Draw one, why don’t you — oh, that’s right —“

That earns him an elbow in the stomach.

But, as much as Deidara complains about your lack of knowledge, it is more liberating than frustrating. It is almost like returning to the beginning himself, seeing art through virgin eyes. He falls in love with art twice as he introduces it to you.

As he falls in love with you.

His sessions with you are private, sacred. While you’re scribbling, following his aid with your pencil or the bareness of your hands, he studies you — he’s given an excuse to do so. He sees the intensity in your gaze as you shade or trace or highlight. The way your jaw works when you hit a snag, the way your fingers steady the paper or pinch or twist clay to accentuate detail, to create some kind of flair. You never even seem to notice how close he stands or sits or leans toward you. Sometimes he plays a game with himself: how close before you notice? Before you feel his breath on your skin. He’s ashamed to admit how much it turns him on to see it; someone who is as passionate as him at the very thing he loves most.

He’s struck by how beautiful you are. Art seeks art.

He appreciates it. He appreciates you. But he doesn’t tell you.

You become the highlight of his day, but he doesn't tell you that, either. Instead, he sends you back to the literal and figurative drawing board with more complaints, more "constructive criticism" so you'll seek the perfection he tells you doesn’t exist, so you’ll hunger for more.

Hunger for him. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You know Deidara will come. It is only a matter of when.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

You lower your tea cup, face the concern in your friend’s eyes.

“It’s nothing, just … just nightmares again.”

“So that’s it,” your friend says, hand gingerly caressing your back. “You definitely don’t look like you’ve been getting any sleep.”

No, you haven’t. What little sleep you’ve gotten constitutes simple cat naps, and always you wake, expecting to see Deidara standing over you, incubused around you …

You flinch away from the thought’s touch.

“(Y/n) …” your friend coos.

“I’ll be fine,” You assure, smiling faintly. “Just like all those other times, I promise. You know how they come and go.”

This is not your first rodeo; everyone who knows you with the slightest intimacy knows about your tendency to have nightmares. You have a lot to fear, but you have never shared Deidara with anyone. Your … friendship, apprenticeship. Too much guilt hangs on his name.

And it would link you to his victims.

I couldn’t stop him, you reassure yourself, to no avail. You massage your temples. No matter what.

The drawing was meant to antagonize you. I’m watching you and I can do what I want.

If he so much as lays a finger on my kids, you glare at the thought.

“Where do you think they come from?” your friend asks, eyes concerned. “Your nightmares?”

From Deidara, you so wanted to say — long had it been since you called him Dei. The nickname was dead, turned to dust on your tongue ages ago, and from the very big debt I owe.

“Well,” your friend stands, “I’m not going to let you suffer like this. Let’s go out, get you something to help you sleep.”

You comply, but the last thing you want is something to help you sleep. Sleep itself was hard enough, but the idea of aided sleep, where anything — anyone — could occupy your physical space without your knowledge, was a horrifying prospect.

The mountains nestling Iwakagure cast long afternoon shadows over the stony structures. The streets are thick with people and heat. The swarm is wild and disorienting; you hold tighter to your friend’s hand, fearful you may lose yourself at sea.

This village is a fucking hole in the ground, (Y/n), Deidara’s words rise up in your mind like smog. And its people are the fucking moles.

Why did you hate them so much, your eyebrows furrow. And what was so special about me?

“Here we are~” your friend sings, twirls in front of the corner store.

You manage a small smile as she goes in, an airless laugh as she pulls you with her.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Sasori’s laugh is a deep, rich cackle. Loud and heavy, like the puppet he lumbers around, and for a second Deidara believes he was mistaken and accidentally brought the fucking fishman in his place —

“A girl, Deidara?” Sasori says and, utterly fascinated, adds, “Really?”

Deidara’s eyebrow twitches. If he didn’t respect his partner so much, he would have obliterated him by now. Instead, Deidara swings his head toward the patio doorway where Sasori’s puppet sags.

“You followed me.”

“I followed you,” Sasori’s voice still tinges with amusement. “Curiosity got the better of me; I just had to see what this little detour was all about.”

“And now?”

“I can’t believe it,” Sasori says. “For a second there, I thought you might’ve had a lead you didn’t want to share. But now … hehhehe —“

Deidara scowls. He can’t have Sasori up here making such a raucous. The streets are thick, gross with people, but he can spot you anywhere; his eyes follow you as you turn with your friend toward the corner store.

“So, is she an old sweetheart of yours?” Sasori continues.

“… Yeah, something like that.” He lets Sasori think it because it is what he likes to think.

Sweetheart.

Even from here, he detects the bags under your eyes. You haven’t been sleeping, your gait unhurried and abetted by the compelling of your friend.

You’re every bit as beautiful as the last time he saw you.

But, he has to admit, there’s something even more beautiful about you losing sleep over him.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ “Hello~” she sings again, this time at the cashier who waves her down.

You’re startled by the stark contrast between the heated streets and the cool, refreshing store air. Rows of snacks form aisles; you feel your stomach roar.

“Heard that,” your friend winks. “I’ll get something for you, go grab somethin’ to eat.”

She releases you and you drift away.

“Hello? Do you have any sleeping pills or something …?”

You walk the chip aisle, scan the options. You see extra salty potato chips, your eyes widen —

Those are disgusting, Deidara says.

They are absolutely not disgusting, you say, practically throwing a chip in your mouth. They’re delicious!

Maybe to you, Deidara’s gaze lingers.

You charge away from the aisle, near the sweet snacks.

The world whirls around you, makes a mockery of your vision as you fight for air. You kneel to the floor, hands trembling to hold the shelf opposite you.

How was it you never noticed how he looked at you? How long had he — or had he always —?

Had you led him on? Were you the reason he killed people —?

Thoughts hurry up your arms and legs. They spider through the cracks of your fragile mind, intrusive and gross. You gasp for air, call out to your friend with hitched breaths.

Your heart trounces in your chest, frighteningly alive.

I’m going to die …!

“(Y/n)!” your friend’s voice travels through several depths of water.

Hands on you — you jerk. Reality becomes a jumble of clips. Grainy. Undefined. The chilled corner store floor, the cashier, ruffling of paper bags, the crowded streets …

You struggle to breathe throughout it all. Your vision tunnels, Deidara’s face at its center.

Deidara’s gaze lingers.

Lingers.

Lingers …

I’m going to die. He’s going to kill me.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Deidara watches from his dingy apartment-turned-hiding place. Your friend ushers you out of the store. He can hear your sobs from where he stands. You’re crying.

Fucking crying.

He smiles.

He shouldn’t get this much pleasure from seeing you pant and sob in your friend’s arms, but he does. He shouldn’t feel his cock twitch at the cries his trained ears pick up — even in the dense summer crowd — but he can’t help himself.

He shouldn’t even be here at all, risking his plan just to get a glimpse of you, but he is glad of his lack of restraint.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You’re advancing fast.

You say (in a moment of vulnerability, Deidara guesses) it’s only because you have such a good teacher — and he doesn’t argue, but he also doesn’t tell you how his heart flips at being the one to coax the genius out of you.

There’s so much he doesn’t tell you.

You frustrate and fluster him, frighten Deidara in the places he refuses to go.

Deidara knows you’re naturally gifted; the talent inherent within you will carry you wherever you wish to go, just like the birds you carve for his approval. He also knows he has nothing to offer you save his knowledge.

You won’t need him for much longer.

He lets you share his apartment and his art room — one you’ve presumptuously banned him from until you’re done with your current piece, and Deidara has just enough artistic integrity not to peak, not to disturb you while in the act. He’s tickled by your determination. On the last day of its construction, you take his couch. In the midst of night for many nights, he hears you tiptoe in and out of the art room, working all hours decent and not. He doesn’t tell you how much he loves it, to hear you accompany his space in such an intimate way, how your passion carries you into his special room, how what’s his is yours and what’s yours is his.

Once it’s done, he forces you to get your rest — insists he will take the couch and you take his bed, and you’re actually too tired to argue. You don’t even grow suspicious of his intentions, so he doesn’t even have to overthink about how he wants to be able to smell you on his sheets, feel the ghost of your body heat against the mattress.

Now, you remove the sheet from the sculpture, baring it to the world of only him and you.

“So, what do you think?” you ask him, earnest as always.

This time, it’s not a cute little thing that can fit in your lap or in his hands — it’s a giant sculpture, once again of a bird. You have depicted it mid-soar, its wings spread about its body as opposed to cuddled into its side.

You step away to give the piece space to breathe. You turn to him, gouging his reaction.

“So?” your voice is high with hope.

Deidara forces his face into neutrality. His eyes travel down the sculpture. He takes in every feature, every purposeful blemish and meaningful dip of the clay, once again borrowed from his stash to give your creativity its breadth.

It’s beautiful.

But he can’t tell you that. He can’t.

Beautiful, Deidara works his jaw, resisting the thought, just like you.

He scans the bird a few seconds more, eager for a flaw to reveal itself. Finally, he turns to you, eyebrows furrowed. “Why a bird?”

You perk. “Huh?” you say, clearly thrown by his inquiry.

“It’s always birds with you.” Deidara clarified. “They’ve always been my thing; why do you like them so much?”

C’mon, he thinks achingly. Give me a reason — anything, anything.

You shrug. “I don’t know — I just think they’re pretty, is all. They have … a very inspiring shape that makes me want to work with again and again.” You look to him, and your expression is so innocent, shy even, he has to swallow his fondness for you. “And … they remind me of you. You understand, right?”

Warmth spreads throughout him. His gaze locks onto yours; you’re just so kissable at that moment. He clenches his fists, resisting the urge to grab you and make you his.

Two orphans, brought together by a hobby — no, a passion. But, ultimately, you could go on; he had found a home in you, but your home could be anywhere. What did he have, if you were called away?

All the more reason why I have to tell her no. If she knows how good she is, she’ll leave.

His gaze lingers on you before returning to your piece. “Yeah, I do.”

A beat passes. Your enthusiasm is punctured. Your shoulders depress, your face falling.

“You don’t like it.”

Another beat.

“No, I don’t.” Deidara says. “You’ll never get anywhere copying somebody else, (Y/n).”

“I know,” You say hurriedly, as though you knew it was something he could say. “But — but the actual sculpture is okay, right?”

He closes his eyes, pinches the space between his eyebrows. Your desperation thrills him, but he disguises it in feigned exhaustion, shudders a sigh. I got her. “No, it’s not all right, (Y/n). It doesn’t matter how nice it is if you’re just imitating. Imitation is flattering, okay? But it’s all anyone’s gonna see if you don’t stop.”

Deidara savors the disappointment in your expression, despite your acquiescence. “I get it, yeah, you’re right. I don’t want anyone thinking … I understand.”

He begins to walk away. “Do it again, something different this time. And another thing — we need to work on your dimensions. It’s obviously supposed to be in the third but parts of it look like it’s in the second. Seems like I have way more to teach you.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You feign normalcy as much as you’re able to your friend and sleep at her house, leaving your own. Does he know where you live yet? It’s only a matter of time.

When you brave the trip home, you close all the curtains, but you know it won’t help.

You also lock — double, triple lock — the doors, but you know it’s also futile; Deidara is a shinobi, a rogue one, at that. You’re a civilian. The full extent of his powers are completely unknown to you.

And, you know no one will believe you.

You’re the zany art lady who sees shapes in the shadows and ghostly voices down hallways. All the children you grew up with who knew Deidara — not knew-knew Deidara, but knew of him — had married away or ventured far from the village of stone. No one could vouch for you. You were alone.

The only place you didn’t fear Deidara appearing was the art studio — ironically. There were so many beautiful pieces in there, some made by your students, some by your own hand. Would he risk destroying all these, just to get to you? Plus, would he want to make a scene? You had only the memory of Deidara’s view of art as sacred, never sacrificial.

His sociopathy frightened you most, but … something told you he cared little for an audience; nothing could shame him, that wasn’t it. If you knew anything about him at this point, it was that he wanted you alone.

So you go on teaching and laughing, feigning normalcy as much as you’re able. Your students, their bright smiles and inspired souls work to calm your own from the horrors that seeks to unmoor you.

“Hey, (Y/n)-sensei?” one of your students, a pretty petite blonde, approaches you after class.

“Hm?” you speak through giggles — despite the paranoia you feel, it’s been a good day; one of your funniest male students managed to both master a technique and make you laugh, and he and his friends are entertaining you from your desk. Truth be told, you’re not much older than the pupils you instruct — perhaps a good three years apart at the oldest — but you see them as so much smaller than you. “What is it, sweetheart?”

She hands you a piece of yellowing paper. “Someone told me to give this to you.”

Your eyebrows crinkle as you take the paper, unfold it.

The hand returns to your throat, clenching.

It is a drawing of a pretty ivory bird, with a fat little body and wings tucked at its side. Beautiful detail of its feathers at the fringes.

And at the paper’s bottom, mingling with the aged yellow, one word:

flattered.

“Do we have a new student coming to class? Or already here?” your blonde student asks, oblivious and arm akimbo. “Like, I know I skip a lot of classes — like, a lot — but I swear I’ve never seen him here before.”

You feign normalcy as much as your able, which is not much.

“Mh,” You swallow, smile up at her through the terror. “W — what did this person look like?”

She averts your eyes, a blush tints her cheeks. “Oh, Just some blonde guy. Well, I shouldn’t say that — after all, he was gorgeous.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You cancel classes indefinitely.

Deidara corners you like a rat.

Mole, you remember, taking a swig from your liquor bottle. He’s made me a mole, just like the others. I’m even living in total darkness now.

With the lights off and the curtains closed and enclosing you in the sweltering Iwakagure heat, you feel as though you have returned to the womb. But if this must be, it must be; you will not put your friend in danger. You will not put your students in danger.

A part of you wonders, however … Maybe you could say something. There were no civilians to remember Deidara, but surely the shinobi did. How could they not? Deidara, domestic terrorist. How many had his explosions killed? How many lives lost to the euphoria of his passion? And now he was back in the village, ready to cause more havoc?

But, to tell them about Deidara, you would have to explain what he wants with you. Why would the rogue ninja choose to stalk a simple art teacher such as yourself?

How, exactly, are you involved with him?

Fuck.

You know, in your heart, this is what he wants: to torture you, to make you seek him out. But … a part of you wants to seek him out. You yearn for closure of some kind.

Even if it kills you.

Especially then. The guilt of being inflaming Deidara’s ire and inspiring his explosive tirades across the village gnaws at you always, never letting up.

Your resolve becomes as hard as the stone walls surrounding you and you shoot out of bed. If he kills me, he kills me. You snatch the sleeping pills, untouched since your trip to the store, and shove them in your bag, dress, and head out the door.

The bruised purple of the sky alerts you to imminent nightfall. You open the door tentatively; the art studio is quiet, ghostly. Abandoned art projects, all in various stages of construction, scatter the room, watch you as you ease in.

You slump into your teacher’s chair with a contented sigh, relish in the silence. You retrieve the pills.

The likelihood of anyone disturbing you was minimal, and, despite your previous premonitions about Deidara not daring tread this place, you hope your presence changes his mind. Surely, he scans the streets for you. Surely, he’s already seen you walk here.

You count on it.

You tilt your head, slip the pill through your mouth and swallow. You lean into the chair.

If he wants me, he can come get me. I’m not running anymore.

The room and its pieces reduce to a colored haze. Your lids droop. Your head lulls and, at last, the drugs pull you into nightmareless sleep.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You trust Deidara, more than you could ever trust yourself.

He’s vespine and ephemeral and mean, but he also protects you as though you were his own flesh. He’s always there, sharing food and washing your battered, paint-stained hands. Even as he berates and diminishes your talent, his concern glares like the sun. Maybe you saved him, all those years ago, from the group of kids hounding him. Weird blond kid. He saves you just as much every day.

You cannot imagine a reality without him. There is none.

When he tells you about his desire to become a ninja, it doesn’t surprise you; his nonchalance toward violence makes him, you think, perfect for the job. Meanwhile, you flinch so easily. It’s admirable, it’s a quality you wish you possessed.

But …

But it also frightens you, how little concern he shows for anyone who is not you. You’re scared — but not necessarily of him hurting you.

“Stop!” you squeak. “Get off me!”

Hands fondle your crawling skin. You wrestle but begin to wither; you’ve never been touched this way before.

“Calm down,” your attacker hisses in your ear. “Just a little, c’mon, don’t be a bitch —“

It is just the wall on one side and your attacker on the other. Panic pumps your blood, sends your heartbeat in your ears. No, no no. You’ve heard it before — the rapid footsteps, young girls screaming in the dark — but you had always thought you wouldn’t …

Wouldn’t …

Your attacker screams; his hands are ripped from you. Your eyes dart to the sudden new action.

Deidara is there, thrusting the guy to the ground, standing over him.

You hurry away from the wall, breath catching in your lungs. Your chest heaves but you cannot seem to get enough or any oxygen.

Your attacker props on an elbow, glares.

“Hey, what the —“

Deidara stomps his mouth in with his foot. You gasp at the unforgiving craack of impact, the way the guy clutches his bleeding mouth in pain. A white shim falls between the gaps of his finger. A tooth.

There’ll be more where that came from, you’re sure.

“Dei —“ You start.

Deidara faces you and again you step away.

“What did I tell you?” he says. “What I tell you about going out after dark?”

His anger catches you by surprise. Your eyes flicker to your attacker, who is now Deidara’s victim — Deidara’s foot is planted on the guy’s head, never letting up.

“You’ve gotta find a hobby besides being a dumbass, (Y/n)! What if I wasn’t here —“

The guy groans, catching Deidara’s attention. Deidara rears, anger shifting from you to his new victim.

“You got something to say?”

Stomp.

“The fuck you think you’re talking to?”

Stomp.

“Think you can come after her?”

Stomp.

Stomp. Stomp.

“Deidara!” You shout. “Deidara, stop, you’re going to —!”

But Deidara’s deaf to his bloodlust; his foot falls on the guy’s face again and again, again and again. You watch as his face bloodies, turns to slick pulp with each blunt hit.

You draw away as Deidara relishes in the blood. You retreat against the alleyway wall and slick against it.

Finally, it stops. Deidara kneels before his fresh kill as the blood leaks from the guy’s head. He is — was — probably only a bit older than the two of you. The trauma disorients your sense of time. You do not know how long the scene lasts, but suddenly you blink and there is a long scarlet stream that leads to your shoe.

You have never seen a dead person.

Deidara notices the small river. He leans forward, swipes some of the blood up with his finger.

“Gods, Dei …” You breathe out. “You didn’t — you didn’t have to —“

“Save it,” Deidara bites. He rises, fingers manicured with blood. “Don’t waste your breath.”

“But —“

“He was street trash,” Deidara reaffirms, gaze hard on you. “He tried to hurt you, think I’d stand for that? Besides …” Deidara’s gaze trails back to the body. The corpse. He will be cold in a few hours, you realize. Cold even though the night is warm. “Remember what I told you?”

You are silent as Deidara draws shapes in the ground with his new paint. Weak streaks of blood stain the rocky floor.

“Anything can be art,” Deidara says with a smile, dead body forgotten. “And art can be made from anything. Even trash like this. Remember that.”

You do not know what to say, so you comply. “Ye — yes.”

He did it to protect me. He wouldn’t ever let anything happen to you. Not ever.

But …

Deidara rises after a few seconds with a sigh. “Now, let’s search his pockets. I meant to tell you, we’re running low on money.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shick. Shick. Shick.

Reality totters before your eyes. You blink against the strange sound busying your right ear. You allow your head to lull to its source — and freeze.

You are another sculpture, motionless and tight, as the figure by the window tosses a kunai in the air, it landing perfectly in their hand each and every time, garbed and obscured in a black cloak patterned with scarlet clouds.

You straighten in the chair, swallowing dry.

“Deidara,” You warn.

Deidara turns his head, admires the way the moon’s light grazes the metal of the weapon.

“You know what I notice, being back after so long?” Deidara begins, enamored still with the kunai. “So many peasants … They’re fucking everywhere. If this is how they treat the adults, I can’t imagine how the orphans are doing, the street trash.” Finally, he looks to you. “Tell me, is it just as bad as when we were kids?”

Silence.

The smile he gives you is from long, long ago. A familiar quirk on a monster’s face.

It’s not him. He hasn’t been him for a long time.

“Uh,” Deidara leans, expectant. “Hello? Am I talking to myself here?”

He insists on playing coy; you’re even more disgusted than you thought possible.

“What do you want with me?”

Deidara waves his hand with a ‘duh’ expression. “I came to say hello to my old student. What? Is it a crime to miss you, hn?”

“No,” Your tone is stony. “But it is a crime to fucking blow up people.” You retort, “and kill them because you like the way your explosions color the sky orange. Bastard.”

This does not faze him; your fire is what he expects, after all. “Because I missed you,” his voice is low, eyes locking on yours. “I miss that passion. Remember the way you used to follow me around like a fucking lost puppy? I guess that’s what we were, huh? Lost.”

You’re expressionless. You remain where you are, simply because you do not want him to think you fear him — and in that moment, you don’t. For some reason, his appearance zaps the fear from you and replaces it with something else, something sharper. You retrieve sketches left on your desk and place them in a drawer, just to busy your hands.

“You want me, is that it?”

Deidara ticks the kunai against his face. “Is that a rhetorical question?”

“When have I ever not been forward with you, Dei.”

You hear him chuckle and, again, it reminds you of better times — of wrestling with him on the couch, sharing the most intimate of inside jokes, watching suns recline into the horizon. Life has become a funny mirror.

“I’ve always wanted you,” Deidara answers. “Did you like the drawing?”

“It was sick. Just like you.”

Deidara feigns a wince. “Ouch, that hurt. But,” he laughs. “I can’t believe I’m asking you for approval now — guess the tables really have turned.”

“You know,” You begin coolly, “it’s not every day a domestic terrorist comes strolling back into the village.”

He doesn’t like that; his eyebrows twitch — a blink and it is gone.

“They must be looking for you.”

“Don’t make me laugh,” Deidara spits. “Think a bunch of village anbu are gonna make me start shaking in my boots?”

You kick yourself inside. You suspected as much, but it was worth a try.

“But, hey,” Deidara continues. “Let anybody try to intrude on my visit with you. I’ll blow them to pieces. Speaking of which …”

Deidara’s mood changes as he leaps from the windowsill, sheds his cloak. The darkened skin of his arms catch your eyes. They are patched at the elbow.

“The fuck happened to your arms —“

“Nevermind that,” he hurries. He steps down the stairs of the auditorium, glares to you. “You didn’t open your mouth about me to anyone, did you? Better not have — this is about me and you.”

The edges of your lips tick. “I thought you weren’t scared, Dei —“

“Hey!” Deidara’s voice echoes off the high ceilings of the auditorium. “Think this is funny? It’s not. This is about you and me, and what we have. No one else!”

“Fuck!” You shoot up, your voice cracking. “Fucking hell, Deidara, I know what this is about, okay? This is you not getting what you wanted from me years ago. I get it, okay? Just take what you want and FUCK OFF!”

You blink and he is there, his face inches away from yours. You gasp, lean away — but his hand grips your wrist. He advances, leaving you no choice but to back into the chalkboard behind your desk.

“You mean that, don’t you?” Deidara’s voice is barely audible now. “Don’t be coy ...”

You wrench away but Deidara is stronger, yanking you back in place.

“I’m not,” You insist. “Let’s just get this over with.”

You refuse to face him. You feel him read your face.

“I love you,” he says, grip painfully tight. “I always have.”

You resist the urge to spit in his face. “You don’t know what love is, Deidara.”

“How could you say that?”

You push him away.

“I rejected you,” You press. “I rejected you and you got mad and blew up shit.”

“So?” Deidara says. “I kissed you and you disappeared! I didn’t know what to do with myself! All I had was my art to comfort me!”

You laugh from sheer disbelief. “You can’t even hear yourself — how psychotic you sound. You’re willing to destroy and hurt people in the name of art,” You hissed. “It’s obsession and it’s gross.”

You conceal a whimper as he yanks your arm again; his grip is bruising.

“Love is the greatest form of art, (Y/n),” Deidara says. “How dense can you be? Love is — it’s meant to be an explosion! It could only be my love for art — my love for you — that inspires me to go on to design such displays of affection. This?” he shoves his hand to his chest, “it’s love.”

“It’s arson.”

“It’s a lot of things,” Deidara advances. His hold mercifies as he soaks you in. “Gods, the things you inspire in me.”

You recoil from his breath, his attempt at caressing your cheek.

“My perfect student. My eternal muse.”

The gentleness in his voice causes you to release the whimper you held. You grimace, eyes stinging. There was once a time when you would have been elated to hear him praise you, to see your worth. Now, it sickens you.

“It can never be the way it was,” You tell him, resist the pang of sadness in your gut. “I don’t think there ever was ‘the way it was.’ We’re not friends anymore.”

His breath clips with desperation.

“That’s not true — I could go into hiding; I could take you with me.”

You scoff. He’s totally gone. “Okay, Deidara. Let’s imagine —“

“Yes, let’s.”

“You have me,” You continue, tone harsh, “then what, Deidara? Am I supposed to follow you to … only the gods know where? You’re a fucking criminal. You’re wanted everywhere — you think I want to be affiliated with you in any way? I’d rather have you kill me right now and never breathe again than go anywhere with you.”

Once again, Deidara’s demeanor shifts; he glares. “Fine. Then I want you admit it.”

“Admit what?”

His eyes narrow.

“That I created you. That everything you have — this,” he gestures around the auditorium. “— is because of me.”

You scoff, look to him, utter disbelieving. “Is that really what you think? Is that honest what you believe?”

“That you were my greatest masterpiece?” Deidara says. “Yes.”

You flinch as Deidara flexes his thumb over your lips.

“I want you, and I want to be wanted by you,” Deidara says softly, mesmerized. “That’s what I’ve always wanted … that was what I wanted that night.” His breath is hot on your skin as his voice dips to an even more intimate timber. “Do you remember? That last night …?”

You remember. As much as you wish you didn’t — as much as you don’t want to … gods, you remember.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ “Dei. Dei, wake up!”

His arm visors his vision. Deidara removes it, cracks an eye open.

“What is it?”

You are there, body dangling on the couch’s arm, tilting backward and forward like a drinking bird. Your smile rivals the morning sun and wins.

“It’s done!” You enthuse. “It’s finally done — you’ve gotta come see.”

Deidara groans, rising off the couch halfheartedly. He never was a morning person — you should know that by now.

“See what, brat?”

“My art, what do you think?”

You giggle as you raise from the couch. He watches you bounce and your passion wanes some of his irritation.

“All right, fine, I’m coming.”

You leap, clapping.

“Fucking hell, are you on something?” Deidara annoyance mingles with a chuckle. “Or are just a fucking five-year old?”

You ignore him, taking his hand and pulling him. “Come on,”

He allows you to lead him to the storage room, uses his other hand to wipe the sleep from his eyes as he stumbles past the threshold with you.

You let go, to find the lights probably; they’re off, thank the gods, and the room is dim. Deidara shuts his eyes, ready to open them once he detects the glow behind his eyelids.

He hears you pull a lamp chain down.

“You can look now.”

Deidara “hmphs,” opens his eyes.

And widens them.

Before him are two life-sized figurines, one that looks exactly like him, the other exactly like you.

“Tada!”

The significance of the figures don’t strike Deidara for a few seconds, then lightning bolts him in the chest. The figures are verbatim replica of a photograph the two of you had taken; your figure’s arm is wrapped around the neck of Deidara’s, two cheeky smiles blazing into a non-existent camera.

He scans the two figures with his eyes, determined for a flaw. There are none. Every line, every graze, it’s all the same. Even your legs — though the photograph hadn’t pictured it — are crossed against each other, the exact pose you had taken seconds before the camera blazed white in two sets of eyes.

It’s perfect.

He … he hasn’t even thought of doing something like this.

“So?” You wait on him, expectant, “do you love it?”

Deidara examines the pieces for a few seconds more. There’s something intimate in the way your figure holds to his, the perfect rendition of skin on skin. How had you managed to remember so vividly? He feels a blush coming on. She’s sending me a message …

“I thought about what you said,” You began. “About being more original. I’ve never done human pieces before, so this was a big challenge … but it was a lot of fun, too. An artist should always accept a challenge, isn’t that right, Deidara?”

“Ri … right,” he trails stupidly.

There is a pause. Deidara finally tears his gaze away from your work and toward you. Your enthusiasm is gone.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, roll your eyes. “What did I do this time?”

Deidara’s eyes dart to and fro. “Nothing.”

Your shoulder fall. “Wait … Nothing?”

“Yeah, nothing,” Deidara says.

“Then why are you looking like that?” You say. “Stop looking ‘round like that — gods, I thought I was the one meant to be on something.”

“I … I just don’t like it.”

“What?”

“Do it again.”

“What?” Your confusion tumbles into laughter. “Like is … It’s subjective, Dei. Be specific.”

“I …”

“What?”

“I just …”

“Okay, now you’re scaring me. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I just don’t like it, okay?” Deidara shouts, waving an arm at you. You startle. “Your work is always so … so needlessly melodramatic. Why — why are so you fucking sentimental about everything? It’s so tiring! First the shitty birds, now this? You need to get a grip!”

“What are you talking about?” You challenge him. He backs away. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked, everything you’ve advised! What’s …”

You trail off and it allows Deidara to retreat into his head.

“Are you … are you jealous?”

He can’t hear you anymore; his thoughts drag him under.

She loves me. She wants me. This is what this is about — what this has always been about.

You laugh at him, sickened. “That’s what this has all been about, hasn’t it?” you press a hand to your head. “The pupil surpasses the teacher, and you can’t handle it. That’s why your complaints have gotten more and more ridiculous. You can’t handle the fact that one day I may better than you!”

She doesn’t even know it yet. It’s all in the subconscious.

“You know what?” he hears the tears in your voice, looks up to see how the lamp’s light heavens down on you. “Fuck you, Dei!”

She’s so beautiful.

“I don’t need you!”

She wants me.

You rear on him, inches away from his face.

“I’m never taking your advice again!”

And I want her, too.

And Deidara smooths his lips to yours.

You are lost. Your body is frozen. You hum despite yourself and all it does is encourage Deidara further. Deidara doesn’t wait; he cups your cheek, pulling you gently toward him.

“(Y/n),” he breathes your name down on you.

As you pull away his hand travels from cheek to neck just in time to keep you hooked to him.

“Mm! N — n — o!”

You pull from him, hurry away from him. Deidara’s eyes open wide, his gaze following your scurry.

You press yourself to the wall, chest heaving.

“I …” Deidara’s voice lives and dies. “I … I thought …” He is mesmerized by his hand. He clenches and unclenches it, as though he cannot understand how you are no longer there.

You say nothing. Silence bridges the gap between the two of you. At last, you part your lips to speak; the ghost of Deidara’s lips shadow yours.

“I’m — I’m sorry, Dei, I …” You say as you begin to recover. “… I don’t feel … I don’t feel that way.”

You apologize again and again, but you don’t know who to or what for — because this isn’t Deidara. You don’t know who has slipped into his skin, who has just kissed you. The Deidara you know, who has sheltered you, mentored you, chastised you endlessly, cannot be the same one who has just kissed you so desperately.

And it was your first.

But as Deidara rises his head to fix you with his beautifully rimmed gaze, reality sits inside you, refusing to move.

It’s him.

Did I ever really know him?

The two thoughts triple with a third, one even more dangerous.

Why didn’t you ever say anything?

But you don’t say it. You don’t dare say it — because Deidara’s stare changes, hardens. You freeze as he moves in a swift move and charges to you —

You brace yourself, breath sharp —

But Deidara passes you. You follow his back as he storms down the hallway.

“Dei, stop …”

He stops only to fit into the nearest pair of shoes, then heads to the nearest window.

“Dei, c’mon …”

“Forget it,” his growl fails to conceal the hurt. “Just …”

He doesn’t finish. He leaps to the windowsill.

“Wait, Deidara —!”

He whirls on you, eyes wild.

“They’re beautiful, all right?” Deidara shouts.

You pause again, blinking surprise from your eyes.

“Your work is always beautiful, okay?” he says. His gaze lowers to the floor, pained. “You don’t need me to say tell you that.”

Deidara leaps from the window, parkouring from roof to roof until he’s out of your sights.

You watch his departure long after he is gone. You don’t know how long you stay there, tracing the ghostly dirt tracks of his shoes left on the windowsill.

You had gotten your approval, your approval from him, but at what cost?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Deidara doesn’t return. Not the next day or the next or the next.

Everything startles you, from creaking doors to the rumbling feet of downstairs neighbors. Everything sounds like Deidara come back to … you don’t know what.

But it is never him. Worries storm your thoughts — is he okay? Where is he? Is he coming back? When? How? In what condition? Food becomes impossible to keep down so you allow yourself to run out of it. Soon both the lack of sustenance and the thought of it send you reeling over the toilet, retching until you lack the strength to lean away.

You check yourself into the hospital. It is all you can think to do.

The doctors cannot find what is wrong with you and you do not tell them.

“Nerves, it seems …” your doctor says absentmindedly one day, looking over your sheet. “Coupled with loss of nutrients. How many days has she been like this?”

“I’d figure about a week, not counting the days she’s spent before coming here,” says a nurse. Though their voices are kept low, the door is adjacent and you catch every word. “She won’t speak to anyone.”

“Do you think she’s …” your doctor’s words teter off. “You know …?”

“I didn’t find any fluids on her that weren’t her own.”

“I’m not a fucking prostitute,” You hiss quietly, before turning over and falling back into sleep.

Sleep full of paint like blood, blood paint — no, blood. Sculptures and oils, sketches and the sound of paper tearing. And Dei. The ink black of his shoes on the windowsill. Dei. Dei’s hands and his ringed eyes. Dei’s lips falling on yours. Dei Dei Dei.

When you wake, reality feels like a dream, too.

The next week is a blur of feeding tubes and blood tests, nurses and doctors wraithing in and out of your vision. Things only grow clearer as you nutrition improves. Your mind remains the same, however.

When you are well enough to walk unaided, you wander. The hospital is labyrinthine and crowded with the injured and dying and sick. Your guilt compounds; someone else could use the bed space you currently occupy, yet you laze about, desperate to escape, the hospital a fort you use to hide from Dei.

Dei.

“Are you sure you want to leave?” one of the nurses says one day, concern dipping her eyebrows.

She’s sweet. It’s been a long time since anyone has cared for your wellbeing — well, except …

You offer her an eye-closed smile. “It’s fine. And yes, I’m sure. It’s about time I step out into the wild again.”

A second nurse behind the counter holds her arm akimbo, suspicious. “Are you ever going to tell us what brought you here? I mean … you were in dire straits when you came to us. You never explained.”

You understand; to her — to everyone — you’re just a girl with no name, no past or present, who checked herself in from nowhere and is now out to disappear again.

You wish to throw them a bone, so you attempt to be as vague as possible.

“Guy trouble,” You say.

“Ohhh,” the nurses sing in unison.

It is hilarious, how quickly they catch your meaning. You gather your things — and by things, you mean the clothes you had worn on your back when you had checked in — shed your patient gown, dress and bid your goodbyes.

“Just … be careful okay,” one of the nurses say.

It won’t be long before you catch her meaning.

The air outside is fresh and it takes you a moment to adjust to it all; the air, the sun, the bustle of people.

You look around; the familiar stone architecture of Iwakagure enclose you in like a mother’s hug. Your gaze lifts, toward one of the bigger buildings ahead —

Your breath stops.

An entire section of a tower is gone — chewed out and blackened. It is a building you have passed many times over, hardly recognizable in its current state. Workers climb the infrastructure like ants to repair it, but are swallowed by the tower’s giant gap.

You ask around, ignorant and hurried for answers. It doesn’t take long for you to piece together what has happened since your hospital recess.

Someone has been supplying terrorist groups with explosives.

You don’t go back Dei’s apartment; you don’t make it that far.

You are too distracted by the wanted posts plastered everywhere.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You never asked Deidara what he did for money.

There just always was money. For food, for the apartment, for art supplies. Somehow. Some way.

In only a matter of years, Deidara’s artistic acumen had become widely acknowledged; his art was exquisite, the envy of all the underground art groups that huddled in the dark of Iwakagure. When he had made enough to rent out a personal studio for himself and supplant it with painstakingly-detailed sculptures towering like gods, you didn’t ask.

You had always just assumed he sold his art — and turns out he had.

It was … just not all he sold.

Deidara’s a genius. Way smarter than you. He found a way.

Explosive clay, bombs, torques — all of them found in bulk in his apartment, a small supply found in the studio also.

You should have asked.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He is so close now; he smells like you remember; wet clay and fire.

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted,” Deidara says this and nothing more.

Now, in the auditorium, you want to scream. You wish to repel so successfully away from him you cease to be. You eye his kunai abandoned on a the windowsill and dream of using it to open your throat.

None of your dreams come true.

Instead, Deidara touches his lips to yours.

It is nothing like the dire, fevered kiss he bestowed on you all those nights gone passed; you’re surprised with its tenderness, with his gentleness. He kicks your chair way to afford him more room. His arm rides the curve of your back and once a hand presses into your spine, he secures you to him.

“Mm,” You pause, try to pull his arm away — only to step farther into him as he yanks you. “Stop.”

Deidara peppers kisses against your jaw, lowers to your neck. “No.”

You grunt and twist, flail out your arm for help, but Deidara presses himself into you, planting you to the durity of your chalkboard.

“Deidara —“ You emit a pained hiss as you struggle, “Ah, Stop —!”

He grips your chin, forces your gaze to him.

“Hey,” he says. “I thought we had an understanding, hn?”

You stare into the blue pastel of his eyes, shudder in his grip.

I thought I could let you have your way. I can’t. I can’t with you.

“Just —“ You continue your struggle, “just let go — ah! Stop!”

“Shut up —“

He forces a kiss on you and you squeal into his mouth, wrestling for control. You wrench your head away from him, but he captures your lips again — you take his lower lip into your mouth only to bite —

“Ah!” he grunts. “Bitch!”

“Get off!”

Deidara covers your mouth with his hand. Your eyes are on him, strained with hatred, glaring. But it softens when you smirk against his hand; a part of him is afraid help will come. Big bad criminal ass, he is. The delight is dark in you.

“I can make this good, all right?” Deidara bargains quietly. The hand on your mouth settles on your cheek, petting you complacent. “I can make this good for both of us.”

“Somehow, I doubt that.”

Deidara glares. “Fine. Scream again and I kill them.”

Them.

… Them.

You breath hitches.

It is Deidara’s turn to smirk.

“Every single one of them,” he continues.

You are silent. The sweet faces of your students flash into your mind, their smiles, their futures in your hands.

“You can’t.”

Deidara’s tickled by the challenge. “Oh, really? They don’t mean shit to me, (Y/n). You’ll have them on your conscience. You want that?”

You think of the poor souls that have come before them, blown to smithereens by Deidara’s fanatic ambition…

I can’t do it again.

Your muscles relax. You settle against the board, slip to the floor. Deidara lets you.

Deidara kneels, both hands traveling to the intimate realm under your skirt. His fingers hook under the band of your panties. “Good girl.”

You settle your head to the side as your panties are slid from your legs. You hyper-focus on the broken sculpture, having been knocked over by the chair, its parts scattered across the floor like chunks of hail.

“Hey, eyes on me.”

Reluctantly, you turn to see Deidara’s face between your legs, eyes hard on you.

His eyes flutter, close as his tongue parts his lips and offer an experimental lick at your womanhood.

“Mmm,” Deidara hums. His fingers spread your lips, lapping at the juice simmering from your cunt. “You taste just like I always thought you would.”

You resist a shiver born of disgust and pleasure. Fuck, how long has he imagined this?

“Wanna taste you everywhere …” Deidara raises his hands, where the lines of mouths form and smile, widening to —

You scream —

“Hey!”

Deidara’s glare freezes you, the horror freezes you as tongues on his hands trail the sides of your hips. You look away — freak! — and feel one of the tongues tease the nub of your nipple.

The fuck is he now? What’s he done to himself?

You cannot resist a second shiver, neither ignore the mortifying sounds of Deidara’s moist tongue — tongues — against your skin and wet pussy. You arch, but Deidara’s hands press hard into your thighs, restraining you. You twist your head, grimace. You refuse to admit how good he is making you feel, nor how experienced his tongue. Deidara dances patterns on your excited clit, lapping up the juices flowing from your aching core, while his companion tongues tickle you with flicks. Who else has he done this to? You’re sick by the jealousy grazing you like a knife.

You relax. Deidara’s hold is gentler now as he brushes the span of your thighs. One of his hands tuck under the your hip, the other sucking the tender pink of your nipple into its mouth. You feel the light graze of his teeth tickle your clit and —

“Ah — hah!”

Deidara stops. He finds your eyes with his eyelined ones. He lifts his head enough to let you see his smirk.

“Someone’s enjoying herself, hm.”

You glare — wince with pleasure as he resumes. You lay back, defenseless. You have a plan but you hate how it means you must lay there and receive, enjoy the pleasure he gives.

It would be so much easier if he was bad at this, but, like all things, he is expert; Deidara’s tongue is lingering and smart with each flick and roll, lick and swirl. When he abandons your entrance for your clit, he replaces his tongue with the light probe of his finger.

“Ahh …” You squeeze your thighs against his head.

“We could have this all the time, you know …” Deidara murmurs between licks. “If you weren’t so stubborn, come with me — more ways than one — I could give this to you all the time …”

He is so good at this, you allow yourself to imagine it. Every day and night, Deidara in between your legs, making your cunt sing with his trio of tongues. You breathe out, feel your orgasm rise. With begrudging instinct, you reach down, grab his head and press him to your pussy. You feel him smirk into your lips and you want to slit his throat, but for the time being let him eat you out as though he’s still a starving orphan and you are the only meal he’s ever had.

You gasp, squeeze a hand in his hair. His finger goes beyond your entrance and into you, his tongue flickering at your clit.

You arch. This time, he lets you.

“Deidara!”

You hear Deidara grunt with so much pleasure, you wonder if he’s found his climax as yours clouds your senses. You suffocate him with your cunt, which he does not stop tormenting with his tongue and learned fingers, lapping up your excited juices until you overstimulate — and long after.

You tremble against him, fight to find breath.

“Deida — Deidara, stop!”

But he doesn’t; like a machine at your womanhood, continues to push you into a second orgasm. A scream rips through your mouth and in your clouded haze you wonder if anyone can hear. Deidara lifts your lower half into his arms and hungry mouth. His tongue latches to your clit, rides you through your second release of the night.

An eternity passes before he sets you back down. The cold floor shocks you alert. Deidara stares down at you, now gasping himself, mouth glistening and shoulders undulated from the effort. His eyes chase your flushed form.

“You said my name … just like I wanted you to …”

Your head falls back. Your eyes find the door.

You ignore the soft kisses Deidara butterflies on your skin, focus only on regaining the lost breaths stolen by him in this room. If I’m gonna do it, it has to be soon.

Pressure at your waist brings your attention back to Deidara; he’s shirtless and crawling up to missionary you, planted between your legs.

He dives for a kiss. Your lips are dead to him but you don’t fight it. Your hands graze the plains of his back but not to hold him. His hand hooks behind your knee. You wait for the last ounces of dizziness to erode away before you try anything. Deidara presses into your neck, bruising hickeys into your humid skin. You finally speak up —

“Mm, wait, wait — Dei …?”

You are clever with your wording; you have not called him Dei in only the gods know how long, and it gets his attention immediately. He comes up for air, meets your eyes.

“Yeah? What?”

You swallow. Your hands scale his shoulder pads, his neck, until his head is in your hands. Life shifts in the funny mirror and you imagine another world where Deidara is still your friend about to be your first. Your only.

You blink and reality returns. The criminal is above you, waiting.

Reality causes you to choke — you use it to your advantage.

“I … I don’t want it to be like this,” You pull him closer. “Not on the floor of my auditorium. We can’t.”

Deidara’s eyes glance around the room. He catches your meaning and his eyes fall back on you.

“My desk,” You brush a thumb against his cheek. “Take me there.”

Deidara’s face softens. His weight lessens on you.

“All right,” Deidara says. Your suggestion brings his tongue to his lips. “Good idea …”

You struggle to collect yourself as Deidara sits on his knees. You prop up as he stands. He offers you a hand and you’re struck by the hilarious politeness of the gesture.

You take it, though, and stand. The sharp brown mahogany of your desk comes into your view. You sigh, let go of Deidara’s hand as he approaches the desk.

And you book.

“What the fuck —?”

You leap over broken sculpture pieces as you hurry to the door. You land a hand on the door frame, feel yourself pass the threshold —

And yelp as a hand mats in your hair, pulling you back.

“So that’s your game,” Deidara hisses, dragging you to your knees.

You whimper, mewl. You’re practically scalped as Deidara drags you to the table, forces you up and slams you into its face. You twist to face him and come to meet his hand. The slap sends you falling, but Deidara grabs you again, forcing you to look at him.

“Deceitful little bitch,” he says.

You glare at him, glance at his lower half.

“Says the little bitch —“

Slap .

“Shut up!” Deidara seizes your face with one hand, the other tugging his pants down.

You hold your face, the sting grimacing you.

“See what you make me do?” he says. “You think I want this? For that little stunt, I got a punishment for you.”

His cock springs free, inches from your face, hungry and red. You open your mouth to speak but he doesn’t wait, directing his cock into your surprised mouth.

“If you bite me,” Deidara growls, “you and all of your brats are dead, got me? Last warning.”

His cock chokes you. You stutter, grasping it. You can feel Deidara looking down at you, monitoring you for good behavior. You pop him from your mouth.

“The fuck —“

“I just gave you the best head of your life, so return the favor,” Deidara growls out. “Least you can do. I know you can … aah …”

I hate you. You take him. Deidara shudders as you hollow your cheeks, grasp the length of his cock to cover whatever cannot fit in your mouth. You bob, create a rhythm with him; his hips buck, fucking your mouth whenever you lean in. Deidara’s hand comes to cup the back of your head and scoots you on his cock, choking you again. You glare.

“Yeah,” he breaths, lids laze over his eyes. “Glare at me with those pretty eyes. Don’t pretend like you don’t love this. Ah, your mouth is the perfect place for my cock.”

He bucks deep and miraculously, you don’t choke. But his little laugh temps you to bite —

“’Cept one other place.”

You grasp, hard.

“Got a problem?”

You freeze, your cock-stuffed mouth silencing you. Maybe for the better. You apologize with a hard suck and continue your subservient bobbing.

“Didn’t think so … You were made for this, hah,” Deidara’s spite bites into every word. “My cock in your mouth — ahh …!”

You pull away to swirl at his cock head — anything to get him to stop talking. You swallow him again and hear him grunt above, hand tight against your sore scalp. Deidara’s rocking quickens, the motions becoming sloppier, less pronounced.

He pulls away and his cock leaves you with a firm pop. You stare up at him. His hair grows dark shadows on his face, his breath shallow.

“Take those tits out,” he orders under his breath. “I want to see all of you.”

I hate you. Just when you thought you would be allowed some dignity. A huff escapes you as you work to remove your shirt and throw it elsewhere. A scream threatens your throat. You reach behind as Deidara strokes himself, unhook your bra and let it fall. Your breasts teardrop as the garment falls in your lap.

Silence. You dare to look up, feel utmost disgust at how Deidara admires you.

A smirk. “You’ve really filled out.”

You return to his cock so you don’t have to look him in the eye any longer.

“Let’s just finish this.”

“Yes, let’s.”

You swirl your tongue at his head before taking him into your mouth. It scorns you to give him any pleasure, but Deidara’s moans catch on the air and you hate how good he sounds. You feel a sinful ache below and mentally kick yourself for it.

Deidara scoops your head, rocking harder, deeper into your mouth. You squeeze your eyes —

“So good,” Deidara huffs. “So —“

Deidara’s voice dies. His cock twitches, pulses in your mouth as it ends. His seed spills on to your tongue and you release him, turning away.

“No,” Deidara jerks your head up. “Swallow.”

Hate you.

You do as you’re told, throat undulating as his release fills you.

Deidara moans, admiring your fucked face, only for his gaze to trail downward to your skirt, the only garment keeping you decent.

Deidara has you on your feet and on the desk. Deidara fits between your legs. His hand caresses your pussy and you twitch from the sudden contact, covering his hand with yours.

“I thought you didn’t like this, hn,” Deidara trails kiss down your exhausted neck as you squirm. “So wet, mm …”

You tightrope between begging him to stop and submitting. “Fuck, Deidara …”

“Call me Dei, like you used to,” he demands against your earlobe. “Remember …?”

Deidara hugs you tight as he explores your wet folds. You wonder why you aren’t instructed to remove your skirt, before realizing it is probably intentional; you feel his new erection probe your inner thigh. He rock his hardness into and you gasp —

“Ah …!”

“Gods, you’re beautiful everywhere,” Deidara runs hands over your sides, squeezes the fat of your thighs. “A work of art yourself …”

You groan as his hands imprison your wrists, pins you to the desk. You don’t remember him being so strong; years as a shinobi have strengthen him and weakened you to him. There is nothing you can you as he positions himself against you, the weight of him crushing you once more.

The head of his cock invades your cunt; your shrill cry mingles with his blissful moan as he finds his home in you.

“Perfect,” his breath hits your face. He kisses the side of your nose. “Absolute perfection …”

There is no easing; Deidara thrusts and a moan escapes you as you clench around his cock. Deidara’s lips cover yours, tongue finding yours as he rocks messily into you.

The tongue of his left hand licks and trails one side of your neck as his right plays at your clit. With each thrust, Deidara’s cock sheathes into you, dizzying your mind. You hold on to his stitched arms to give your hands somewhere to land.

“Let them come in,” Deidara breaths. “See their precious teacher like this —“

He pounds you, robbing a cry from your throat before circling his hips and hitting back the way he was. Your hands crawl up his arms to his back, bite his skin with your nails. The desk creaks, threatens to give as Deidara’s thrust quicken.

You twist your head as Deidara returns the favor and sinks teeth into your abused neck. His thrusts are rough and horrible and not enough — you bite your lip, hating both yourself and him for what you are about to demand:

“Harder.”

You see the tease in his eyes as he lifts his head to look at you in his peripheral.

“Heh,” a smirk. “As you wish.”

Skin stung as Deidara slapped against you. Air knocks from your lungs. You threaten to fall back but Deidara hooks you to him, driving into you with immense force.

“Would love to turn you over,” he says before grabbing your face, forcing your attention on him, “but I wanna see that pretty face when you cum.”

The tongue of his hand flicks happily at your clit. Deidara hammers you. Your desk whines. Your stomach squeezes, the end near.

“C’mon,” he says. “C’mon …”

He leans down to bite and drag your lower lip. Deidara last few thrusts force a singing moan from your throat as you fall into his embrace. He follows you, roaring as he pumps weak thrusts into you.

You hug him with your legs without thinking. You feel the warmth of Deidara’s seed pump into you. The tongue of Deidara’s hand insists on flicking you until Deidara’s too weak to continue with it and retreats.

You hear nothing but your breaths and his, voices mingling once more as the relief kicks in. You daren’t move, lest the desk finally chooses to give underneath you both. You are humiliated enough.

It’s over … thank the gods …

For a second, your mind swims, but lucidity returns and stings like an open wound. Deidara crooks into your neck and settles there, cock still warming itself in your cunt. Fury overtakes you; he is weak enough to push away. He stumbles as you rise, grunts in protest.

“What’re you doing …?” he slurs.

“You had your fun,” You hiss, dipping back and forth to retrieve pieces of clothing. “Fuck off.”

Deidara’s expression morphs, the fatigue gone in an instant.

“You’re kicking me out?” he says. “After we just made love?”

“That’s what you thought this was?” You say. “You’re even sicker than I thought!”

“Hn,” Deidara’s glare is deadly. “What a cold-hearted bitch you are.”

“We’re done, Deidara,” You cover yourself with your bundle of clothes. “I don’t know you. And you don’t know me. I’ve worked hard to rid myself of the stink of you, what you did. All you do is destroy shit. You’re proud of it. You destroyed us. Be proud of that and go.”

Deidara’s eyes widen in their fury.

“We’ll never be done,” he says. “Shows how much you know; you’re never getting rid of me. I don’t care where you are, or who you think you are, I’m the only one who’s ever known you. Who’ll ever know you. That’ll never change.”

To say more would encourage discussion. You turn away. He can kill you if he wants to, but you close your eyes, tune out the aggressive tussling of clothes, try to block out the feel of Deidara’s skin, his tongues, him.

When you dare to look back, Deidara is gone, and finally you can breathe.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The note is crisp, new and blindingly white in Deidara’s grip.

“What’s that now?” Sasori says. “Another note from your little girlfriend?”

Deidara is silent for a good while.

“Yeah.”

Deidara turns over the note, reads for the umpteenth time.

Come find me.

Since his last meeting with you, he has visited the auditorium, but you are never there.

But upon his last visit, a note was.

“Just what have you been up to with her …?” Sasori asks, considers the inquiry. “Nevermind, I don’t think I want to know.”

Deidara closes his eyes and sees the hate he saw in your eyes. Your moans mutate into cries. A dull pinch of guilt nags at him.

Not my fault. She should know by now we belong together.

Guilt is replaces curiosity as Deidara toys with the note in his fingers. A mouth forms to devour the note.

Fine, (Y/n), I’ll hear what you have to say.

Deidara rises. The Stone village comes into full view from the valley where he and Sasori stand.

“I’ve got one more thing,” Deidara says. “I’ll be back.”

“Suit yourself, ladies man.”

Deidara poofs, opens his eyes and he is in an alley, two buildings squeeze the heat in.

A part of him wants to return to the auditorium, find you there, but another part of him is equally as convinced you are home. Deidara licks his lips at the thought of having you again in a more intimate setting. He transforms himself into the first random man he sees and begins his way through the village, passing the debilitated buildings and ugly apartments.

The village is as ugly and depressing as he remembers, and he feels the urge to just blow it all away in one fell swoop.

But that would include you, so he grunts and moves on.

A gangle of street kids giggle and pass him by, immersed in their game.

A trip down memory lane. Deidara thinks. He remembers you and him at that age, and nostalgia runs its hand over his heart.

A complex. This is it. It is a ghost town, silent as the graves ghosts come from. He travels to the first floor until he gets to your door. A wild thought occurs and he twists the nob and his theory is confirmed; open.

The door invites him in with a creak. He releases the jutsu masking his identity and closes the door, walks through your small living room. It smells like you. Deidara recalls the scent of you on his sheets in a different world, a smell so profound he will recall it as he dies. He travels into the hallway —

“In here.”

Your voice sounds from what must be the bedroom. Deidara’s heart quickens. He travels to the end of the hallway, opens the door.

Your room is a haunting mirror of his all those years ago; clay sculptures decorate the room. Illustrative watercolor paintings are stringed on the walls. You are on the bed in a simple white shirt and shorts.

“Long time no see,” Deidara murmurs.

It’s meant as a joke but you don’t laugh — neither do you roll your eyes or glare, only offer a light smile, though it is heavy enough to assuage his conscience. A little.

“I thought about what you said,” You say as he nears the bed and sits by you. “About … us.”

Deidara conceals his nervousness as well as he can manage. “… Yeah?”

You look to him. The light of the sunset plays in your eyes. “You’re right, Dei — I mean, I’ll never get rid of you and you’ll never get rid of me … For the longest time, we were all we had.”

Dei. You're saying it again. He feels like he is home.

Deidara risks a hand reaching up to shift hair behind your ear.

“That’s still true.”

Your gaze is locked on him. “I don’t even remember anyone before I met you. You taught me everything I know. You’re my beginning, and you’ll be my ending, too.”

“I feel exactly the same way …”

Deidara caresses your face. You hold his hand there.

“I’ll never forget you —“

Your grip on his hand tightens, though your face is clear.

“and you’ll never forget me.”

A sense of wrongness comes over Deidara. His brows furrow.

Something’s wrong.

“I’m going to make sure of that,” You say.

He smells it then.

Sulfur.

He pulls his hand away — but with difficulty, you hold on.

“What did you do?”

You’re silent. You smile.

“(Y/n)!”

Your face is frozen in his mind. Forever.

“I told you, didn’t I?” You say. “I learned from you.”

Deidara senses it before he see it; heat, fire blazing at his back. He disappears, lands. He is back before the Stone village, Sasori behind him.

“What happened —“

Deidara doesn’t hear him — he hears nothing.

The explosion is all there is.

Clouds of fire bloom, raging red and orange, mocking the colors of the sunset with its own. The apartment is devoured in flames.

It deafens Deidara, momentarily blinds him before it is all he can see.

“Deidara,” Sasori’s voice is slow. “What did you do …?”

It is a while before he answers. “’S … it’s not me.”

You’ll never forget me. I’ll make sure of that.

The explosion meets with the sky and becomes the new sun.

“It was … it was her.”

Embers brush and burn his skin, kiss his lips.

… It’s perfect …

She is … art …

#deidara #deidara x reader #deidara x y/n #deidara smut #deidara naruto #naruto x reader #my work #💕.nsfw

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mrsbakashi · 2 years

Text

♡ LOVE LANGUAGE - HOW THEY EXPRESS THEIR LOVE ♡

characters: kakashi, itachi, obito, naruto and deidara

a/n: so, i had this idea and it's probably silly but it's also cute so ok. i wanted to do with more characters but i figured i'd start with one character for each love language. i may do more, idk. i have like shikamaru, neji, yamato, choji and sasuke already (pre)written.

✸ this is unedited and not profread, this is how we roll here

♡ KAKASHI ♡

love language: quality time

✧ kakashi's way of showing you he loves you is, mostly, by spending every second he can with you and engaging in activities you like (or that you have to do). he will cook with you, he will read with you, he will do the dishes and the laundry with you, he will walk with you every morning, watch all of the shows you want to watch - no matter what. uou name it, he'll be there. while he also shows his love in acts of service sometimes (the man will literally cook your every meal just because) and other ways, he's mainly the guy who will be there at all times, even if it's just quietly sitting in the corner just so you won't feel alone. he becomes almost like your shadow, you're hardly seen without him by your side, but not in a suffocating toxic way, he makes sure to give you plenty of space. but he loves being next to you. you make him feel energized and happy, he doesn't ever want to leave your side. your lazy afternoons are spent relaxing in bed or tangled in the sofa while you both read your books.

♡ ITACHI ♡

love language: acts of service.

✧ itachi's way of showing you he loves is by doing things to you - if it depended on him you would never lift a finger. if you complain about something that's been worrying you, consider it solved. he will go out of his way to make sure every thing in your life is how it should be. most times he doesn't even tell you, because he doesn't make a big deal of it, it's just... the way he is. but it surprises you everytime. you get home after a stressful day and there's an amazing dinner waiting for you and a hot bubble bath with your name on it, you can't remember the last time you stopped by a gas station because itachi takes care of that. he likes to make sure you never run out of your favorite things. that's how he shows his love - by taking care of you.

♡ OBITO ♡

love language: physical touch

✧ obito's way of showing you he loves you is by touching you all the time. we all know he's touch starved, that's not a surprise. he will always have an arm around you, and when he can't, he will hold your hand, or at least make sure you're close enough so your arms are touching. he feels safer when you're around and it's almost as if you're his energy source - he has to be touching you so his body receives the energy you give him. it's so weird how sometimes he just comes home completely drained and just takes you to bed, and after a while cuddling it's like he's alive again. he needs kisses to properly start the day, and he needs to be holding you in order to sleep. you can try to escape his arms during the night, but he'll pull you right back in a heartbeat. you belong there.

♡ NARUTO ♡

love language: words of affirmation

✧ naruto's way of showing you he loves you is by complimenting every single thing you do, and making sure you know how amazing you are. it would be annoying if he wasn't so sweet. he really believes you are the best, he's just so adorable! you are nothing less than perfect in his eyes, you can do no wrong, and even if you did it was purely with the solely intent of doing the right thing. and he will take no criticisms, specially from you. you are the best, and he needs you to know and accept that. worst (or best) part is that he really believes everything he tells you - so you really are the best at everything you do. everything. he also makes sure you feel appreciated, because he appreciates everything you do for him, even if it's giving him a cup of tea before bed. his heart is filled with love for you and it's overflowing.

♡ DEIDARA ♡

love language: giving gifts (i know it's actually receiving gifts, but give me poetic license, please)

✧ deidara's way of showing you he loves you is by giving you gifts, and by gifts i mean his art. he's not the best with words, and he can be very annoying, but every now and then you will find little sculptures symbolizing memories of you two in unexpected places - the pocket of your coat, the bathroom cabinets, inside the towels in your wardrobe, by your side on the bed after you wake up from a nap. he's not really good at showing you how he feels, but he can be really sweet when he wants to. specially when he knows he messed up and you're probably upset. he won't talk about it tho, he'll just show up later as if nothing has happened and will leave if you mention it. poor boy can't handle his feelings, he's learning.

taglist: @justmyownreality @hashira-mal @smutteedreams @obitovoir @madarasthicc @hiddenjutsu @nightingaleflow @knightofmight @rayofmirasol

please fill this out to join my taglist :) see you soon ♡

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bladedhunter · 2 months

Note

((from @storiedocs )) (the handwriting looks like it was done by someone without thumbs... and probably not by the person it's for...)

Name

Chitose no-last-name, a human

Age

17 human years equivalent of ~1.5 in cat years

Do you like to cuddle?

Good at cuddles and also at petting and brushing and play-time

Can we make-out?

Never seen Chitose do this it sounds funny i bet she'll squeak Sure

A night in or dinner out?

We should go out and bring back tasty leftovers for Cat please

Ice cream or chocolate covered strawberries?

I as a human can eat chocolate safely unlike cats

What makes you a good Valentine?

I am good at taking care of people and am knowledgeable about many interesting things and am good at finding missing things and solving mysteries and also singing but not as good as a cat and I am quiet and do not get zoomies

Would you cook for me?

I am very good at cooking especially fish and rats and birds

Would you let me cook for you?

Yes I am not picky when it comes to food because I have no sense of pride or standards

"Uh, what?"

Deidara squints at the oddly written form. Who was Chitose? Why did she have a proxy send a Valentine's application to him? Why Deidara? And why...

Deidara lifts the paper and sniffs it. Yup. Definitely smells like a pet of some sort. Did someone's animal summons write this?

Looking around, he spots the first seventeen-year-old-looking girl he sees and waves the paper. "Hey! You! Are you Chitose?! Is this from you?" A pause. "What the fuck, hn?"

#c: deidara #LOLOL #f: anime #f: naruto #storiedocs

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secret-engima · 10 months

Note

Hi ! So glad I find your master worldbuilding mind!

Quick question, how do you think we went from a clan-based village to actual Konoha where several clans (Senju, Sarutobi?, Uchiha, Danzo clan? , Hatake if it's a clan) have disapear? Did the village care ou try to protect them? Did other clans are treathen by the possibilities to be let down?

Because you said that Tobirama trust Uchiha with police force but Sarutobi was obsessed by clan balance and all. I know Sarutobi is old, so a lot could have happening.

Any thought?

Hi! Okay so this ask is actually based on a slightly flawed premise (not your fault it's Kishi's worldbuilding again) in that we do not actually see a lot of "wiped out" clans. What we see is Kishi not bothering to flesh out the clans he has because what is attention span. For example; the Sarutobi are not wiped out! There is exactly one shot of the Sarutobi clan in the 4th war arc that is in both the manga and the anime (in the anime the shot is actually narrower so you can't see as many as in the manga shot) where a bunch of their jounin and chuunin members (like easily double digits, I forget the exact number but I wanna say around 20ish? With more implied to be off screen) breathe fire at the juubi in sync. And it is confirmed they are all Sarutobi. There's like one guy who's essentially like: COME ON GUYS LET'S SHOW THEM THE SARUTOBI CLAN KICKS ASS.

So the Sarutobi clan is actually a decent enough/healthy enough size, we just literally never hear or see it until that one single shot. So it's reasonable to assume most clans are healthy and protected by Konoha. This is kind of implicitly supported by the narrative too, because things like the Uchiha and Hatake and Senju being nearly extinct are things that people comment on and find noteworthy, which means it's *not* the norm.

As for how the three clans we know of being wiped out *got* wiped out, I think that is less the fault of Konoha itself (tho Hiruzen is directly at fault for allowing the Uchiha massacre thanks) and more a side effect of that transition from clan based society to village based society. Namely the multiple shinobi wars. As I mentioned in my economics rant, the shinobi wars were something entirely out of the league of clan wars back in the day in terms of scale and destruction, so clans that got hammered likely were ones either already on the small size (like the Hatake probably were) or ones that would have been intentionally targeted by the enemy out of fear (Senju and Uchiha). The sheer scale of the conflict and clashing powers would have decimated targeted clans, and the villages would have been unprepared for that kind of issue until it was too late. After that, the surviving members could have easily died out without having kids post war, or if they were female members in the case of, say, the Senju, they didn't die out but the *name* died out, because it's still traditional in Naruto world cultures for the woman to join the family of the man and not the other way around (with the exception of the Uchiha and other regularly manifesting kekkei genkai clans I imagine).

We don't see anything about the Shimura clan either way beyond Danzo, which is again a flaw in the kishi worldbuilding, so we don't know if he actually has a clan still running around, or if they were just a small clan that got hammered in the multiple shinobi wars. On that note you can apply this same worldbuilding problem to almost every other village in the show. Kumo, Iwa, and Suna all have characters who are implied to be from a clan or have kekkei genkai that appear to be hereditary but no clan is mentioned. So we just do not know if there IS a clan of say- people with hand mouths like Deidara, or if they are one-off manifestations of a kekkei genkai, or if they are survivors of other villages' clans that got hammered casualty-wise by the wars like the Senju and Hatake presumably were.

Logistically speaking it would be beneficial for the villages as a whole to do everything they could to keep their clans alive, since their clans are where their powerhouses tend to come from while civilian-born shinobi fill out the ranks with more mid-level shinobi. There would probably be incentives and benefits offered by the village for clan shinobi to marry and have kids that bear the clan name, etc etc. And clans that are still a healthy size work hard to keep it that way.

I hope that answered your question?

#SE asks #maneeyansf asks #Secret Engima Rambles #naruto #naruto worldbuilding #ninja economics #for organizational purposes

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mixelation · 3 months

Text

reborn au plot.... stuff. has plasticity spoilers. also canon characters die!

i said this recently, but i don't have much in the way of an overarching story after tori's, like, 17. part of this is just that i haven't made some major decisions about the premise (like what orochimaru is up to) and part of it is that...... what problems would even challenge these characters. like we have a bunch of weird interpersonal shenanigans but like obviously one appeal of this au is giving tori opportunities for Feats.

so i decided on a Feat.

i think as an ongoing looming threat, i might have some petty proxy war stuff going on. no one wants to reignite a multi-nation shinobi war, but everyone is scrambling to grab things for themselves, especially since konoha just like.... stole from iwa??? ame burned down half of kusa? oto-nin are just? in the wind???? someone probably hires orochimaru. people are out trying to snatch jinchuriki left and right.

so i was thinking thusly: one of the bigger nations captures fuu for the seven tails. ame sends an akatsuki pair which includes tori. somehow, the situation goes completely to shit. multiple nations are involved. the seven tails is released, killing fuu. everyone wants this weapon and they don't care if they had to kill a young girl to get it.

akatsuki's solution is that they should simply control all weapons. tori knows this will fall apart. she also knows that, even if she wrestles the raging seven-tails into a container and gets around the multiple nation's people ALSO vying to capture it for themselves, and she takes it back to konoha, this also solves nothing. and so she thinks: if no one can resist the temptation of a weapon, then i will remove the weapon.

this is the part that's a pretty big plasticity spoiler, but also a few people guessed it so i don't mind sharing. basically, the shinigami doesn't like tori because he can't have her. she's a weird, foreign thing that shouldn't be there. functionally, she can't die. she can be irreparably maimed, so she still has a healthy fear of most life-and-death situations, but she technically can't die. (she's unsure if this still applies in this universe in the earlier parts, but we'll let her figure it out eventually.)

the side-effect of this is that she has more bullshitty leeway with summoning the shinigami than other people. it can't take her soul so it will take things around her more indiscriminately, so she's not going to use it if her allies are around. but if she's fed up and doesn't care if everyone dies? fuck it, we're going to kill the tailed beast itself.

i want how this to be accomplished to be kind of metal and/or gross. you know that scene in plasticity where tori is simultaneously herself AND the shinigami and she's confused? like that but they're eating the seven-tails.

tori comes to later and the whole battlefield is dead, from the shinobi to the plants and wildlife. whatever other akatsuki was with her is either some probationary schmuck, a canon character who got separated, or hidan-but-he's-not-revived-yet (i'm leaning towards this last one). at first i was like "how does she explain she killed a tailed beast" to other people but THEN i decided

tori realizes she's done something she should not have been able to do. she's just created another weapon people will want to use. so she gets up and goes home, and she lies.

the seven tails killed everyone and ran off. yes, even the forest. even the little bugs in the trees. the soil is irradiated. i guess it was pissed off. how did i live? aren't i a barrier specialist..........?

and then of course everyone goes out looking for the tailed beast. like, you can't just have a wild bijuu running around!! but they can't find it. it's nowhere. it will never be found because it no longer exists.

probably at some point she'll tell someone, most likely itachi and/or deidara. hidan might confront her about it. but i just love the idea of her getting a major feat and then immediately denying it.

also she may or may not decide to repeat the experiment

#reborn au #here you get every thought that comes into my head for this au #even the ones that would be huge spoilers for other story concepts lol

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yowyowyaoi · 9 months

Text

Deidara’s Daily Texts from the Akatsuki

From Tobi:

How long do you boil water for hard boiled eggs?

How long do you boil eggs for soft boiled eggs?

Is there a thing like medium boiled eggs?

Do we have eggs?

Where are the eggs at?

Have you seen my cloak?

Have you seen my gloves?

Have you seen my sandals?

Have you seen Zetsu today?

You left your piece of pie in the refrigerator for 3 days can I eat it?

Do ladybugs have toes?

((early morning)) Do you ever think about how we’re all just wiggly spirits wearing suits made of skin and bones and teeth and hair?

From Hidan:

Fucking Kakuzu getting on my fucking nerves today!

Wanna go half on a pizza?

Ditch that mission with the puppet, it’s hot let’s go swimming.

My shampoo is half gone let me find out it was you who used it asshole!

Did u see how Uchiha limped outta the shark’s room 😏?

I accidentally took Konan’s bra from the laundry room n now I’m scared to give it back bc she’ll beat my ass like last time 😓.

From Itachi:

Did you take my face cream?

Did you take my lotion?

Did you eat my dango from the fridge?

Do you have the $20 you owe me?

Where did you put my sandals?

Are you the one who left that drawing of me and Kisame on the bathroom door?!

From Obito (using a fake number):

You’re so beautiful.

That puppet doesn’t deserve you.

I would treat you like a king.

I’ve been in love with you since the day I met you.

Every time I see your face my heart sings with joy and pain. Joy from the miracle of your existence, pain from knowing I will never have you.

What? No! Who is this “Tobi” you speak of??

From Konan:

Face masks tonight?

Made brownies you want one?

Can you come help me paint my toenails?

Did you borrow my leave in conditioner?

Quick come to my room I have some hot “tea” from Konoha !!

From Kakuzu:

Rent’s due.

You either kick in for your share of the utilities or I’m cutting your lights off tonight.

You and Hidan get your asses downstairs and clean up all this mud you tracked into the house!

Start picking up your food and drinks or I’m putting you outside. You are attracting ants. We can’t afford the bug guy again.

If I step in one more wad of clay I’m throwing it all in the trash!

Please cease your attempts to set Tobi on fire. We can’t afford hospital bills OR a lawsuit.

Fuck no. I can barely feed you little brats. A dog is out of the question!

I just got this months phone bill. STOP PLAYING ALL THOSE DAMN GAMES BRAT! That phone is for BUSINESS COMMUNICATION only!!

From Nagato:

Where’s your mission report?

Mission report due IMMEDIATELY.

We need to talk about the grievances Tobi has brought to my attention.

Don’t lie: were you and Hidan the ones who put black hair dye into my shampoo bottle?

Stop giving our address to food delivery drivers. This is a HIDEOUT. We are supposed to be laying low.

From Zetsu:

The next time you decide to set off a bomb in a public place can you be considerate enough to ASK whether I was planning on eating any of the people first?!

From Kisame:

Come help me scale these fish and you can have some when I cook them.

Like a double date? Sure. But only if you swear to be nice to Itachi.

No. Samehada is not a toy.

I don’t care kid, make Itachi cry again and I’m biting your head off.

Swimming?

It’s not chocolate it’s a protein shake.

From Sasori:

Already said No. Stop begging.

Dinner tonight?

You left your shirt in my room.

Stop asking me to rate your selfies. I’m a busy man. And they all look the exact same.

Only if you agree to wear a hairnet or something. I’m not spending an hour picking blonde hairs out of my sheets like last time.

Oh come on, please? You’d be the centerpiece of my entire collection!

No. Stop being lazy and write your own mission report.

I miss you.

Did you spill juice on that puppet? It’s all sticky.

Kakuzu said No? What’d you do to piss him off?

Alright. Be safe. Love you ❤️

#deidara #texting #the akatsuki #sasodei #implied kisaita #brotp #hidan x deidara #sasori x deidara #sasori #kisame hoshigaki #itachi uchiha #tobi #obito uchiha #konan #nagato uzumaki #hidan #kakuzu #zetsu #Akatsuki Daily Texts Series

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aceopmari · 2 years

Text

The Akatsuki React to You Secretly Throwing a Party at the Hideout

Akatsuki Masterlist

A/N: I had this concept planned out months ago with more ideas and stuff. Wish I wrote this sooner but I had so many other ideas I want to do first. Wanted to get this finally out the way so sorry if it comes off boring.

TW: Substance abuse, explicit. Minors DNI 18+

Akatsuki Baddie Taglist: @ppg-artss @lovelygeniegirl1012 @mercymccann @kakeisumire @aoi-ajisai @mechmoucha

You sat down on the couch with Hidan and Deidara one night at the base. The three of you were tired of the excessive missions with little to know downtime.

Fortunately this weekend, the three of you would be getting time off from missions while everyone else in the Akatsuki would be out.

You each thought it it would be the perfect opportunity to plan out a secret small gathering at the base with a few old friends.

“Okay so we got food, music, and guest settled,” you began.

“Deidara you’ll be bringing 3 of your friends from the Explosion Corps, I’ll be inviting 3 old buddies from the black market, and Hidan will be bringing in 3 fellow Jashinists. That should be a total of 9 guests,” you say.

“Actually…” Hidan said with a sly grin. You turn to raise an eyebrow at him. “‘Actually?’” Hidan snickered as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Well…I may have mentioned our little secret party to a few honeys…”

You look at him incredulously. “Hidan! You didn’t!” Hidan chuckled. “I did, babe! Called all 7 of them,” Your cheeks flushed a bit at the nickname. Deidara’s eyes lit up. “Sounds good to me, hm.”

You groaned as you rolled your eyes, seeing that you were outnumbered. “Fine we’ll have 16 guests max! But that’s it!” You warned.

Hidan grinned. “Alright! This party is gonna be wild!” You glared at him. “Shh! It’s not a party it’s an intimate get-together!”

“Never mind that,” Deidara said as he snaked an arm around your waist. You shuddered at the contact as Deidara brought his lips to your ear. “What will we do for entertainment? I was thinking we could do some explosive fireworks~” he says huskily.

You wiggled out of his grasp as your cheeks flushed a deeper red. He chuckled at that as you turned to glare at him. “No fireworks, Dei! We can’t risk blowing up the base and getting caught!” Deidara groaned. “Fine…”

…

The weekend finally came. Your 14 guests had all arrived for the small gathering. It started off normal with a few drinks. Things got a little wild after Hidan brought out his famous ‘Jashinist Jungle Juice’ that you were stupid enough to drink. You passed out for awhile.

…

The next thing you knew, you were running around the base, clad in an Akatsuki themed playboy bunny outfit.

You stared in horror at the crowd of thousands of people partying under the flashing lights at the hideout to loud music that was shaking up the base.

“I DIDN’T INVITE THESE PEOPLE! WHO ARE THEY?!” You cried.

You saw in the far distance that many more people started pouring in. “Shit!” You rushed over to the door to try and stop them.

“Babe! Looking good!” You heard. You stopped in your tracks and saw a shirtless Hidan on the dance floor, splashing cash on strippers that were performing in front of him.

You growled as you stormed over to him. “Hidan! What the hell?! I thought we agreed only 14 people!”

“I know babe, I know. But word got around and shit,” he said sheepishly. “No shit, Hidan! There’s like 10,000 people in here!” You hissed.

Your eyes darted to the dancing strippers on the small little stage. You stared at them incredulously. “How the fuck did strippers get here?!”

“Isn’t it great? Why don’t you get up on stage and shake that ass for me? You’re already dressed up!” Hidan chuckled as he tossed some cash at your feet.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “That’s not even your money is it?” Hidan grinned. “Nope! This shits, Kakuzu’s!” You glared at him. “Hidan, get rid of all these people! We’ll get in so much trouble if we get caught!”

“Fuck that! I’m having the time of my life with these bitches!” Hidan laughed. You groaned. “You little shit! Where’s Deidara anyway?”

BOOM!

“HEY! DID YOU GUYS SEE MY ART?!” Deidara said loudly.

You heard the sounds of cheering and turned to see Deidara standing on one of the large statued palms above the audience. He was using his clay to detonate them and make small fireworks in the air, causing the base the shake a bit.

“Shit!” You cry. You high jump towards the platform and land next to him. “Deidara what the hell are you-?”

You stopped mid sentence when Deidara turned to you. His eyes were red and he had a overly happy smile on his face.

You sweatdropped. “Are you high?!” Deidara chuckled. “Don’t just stand there, hm.” He turns you around and pulls you towards his chest causing you to yelp. Deidara then grabs your hips. “Let’s dance~!”

Deidara then started grinding his hips against yours. “Deidara! What the hell are you-MMM!” You mewled when you felt something hard and thick press against your ass.

‘Is he…hard?’ You thought. You blushed as Deidara snickered into your ear while he continued to grind against you.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you took in the sensation before you started moaning. You found yourself slowly rolling your hips against his crotch, almost forgetting why you were confronting Deidara in the first place.

That was when you heard the sound of crows flying around you. You immediately opened your eyes seeing Itachi appear before you and Deidara. He didn’t look too pleased if his sharingan eyes boring into you was anything to go by.

“Itachi!” You cry as you pull away from Deidara’s grasped. You started shaking a bit nervously as you widened your eyes in horror. “Wh-what are you doing here?! I-I thought you were on a missio-?”

You stopped mid sentence when Itachi slowly and menacing approached you. “Because of your selfishness, you exposed our hideout, Y/N…” You shuddered as you slowly backed away nervously. Of course Itachi had to sound too sexy even when he’s threatening.

Deidara immediately jumped between you two, chuckling loudly. “Don’t be such a party pooper, hm!” Deidara then pulled out some rainbow colored treats from his pocket and shoved it in Itachi’s mouth. “Have some candy!”

Itachi gagged a bit as he swallowed the candy whole. His sharingan eyes kept spinning out of control. Deidara chuckled at the sight while you go into a state of panic.

“Deidara! Did you just feed him edibles?!”

…

You and now sober Deidara watched from below as Itachi sang ‘DREAMIN ON’ on top of giant hands, microphone and all. He was so good at singing that he even got many fangirls from the crowd to sing along too.

Itachi: Fumidase yūki no i i ho!

Itachi and Fangirls: DREAMIN’ ON!

Itachi: Mugendai no chizu hiroge chikai atsumeta hata tatakaitsuzuketeiuku “jibun jishin” tsuranuke...

Itachi: Tsukami toru DREAMINNN ON!

Itachi: Makerarenaiiii!

Fangirls: WHOA!

Itachi: Nige ya shinaiii…

Fangirls: WHOA!

Itachi: Deai wakare koe ikou! Zenbu takaramonoooo!

You and Deidara sweatdropped at his perfect performance. You were both very envious of his singing talents. “Damn Uchiha’s…” you say bitterly. “You can say that again…” Deidara sighed.

You turned to him. “Deidara, it will only be a matter of time before until the drug wears off Itachi! We need to get rid of all these people now!”

Deidara looks at you incredulously. “No way! These people all appreciate my art! It’s been so long since others have given me this must recognition, hm!”

You growled. “Deidara! Put your damn pride aside and help me! I don’t want to get in trouble! If Leader finds out, we’re screwed!”

Deidara pulled out some clay from his pouch and started forming a mold. “Well then you better figure something out, Y/N.” He makes a hand seal causing a giant clay bird to appear in front of him.

“Later, beautiful!” Deidara says as he hops on the bird. It then flies over the crowd. “DEIDARA GET BACK HERE!” You cry out.

CRASH!

You whip your head behind you and push through the crowd as you search for the source of the noise. As you do so, you scold the guests for any wrongdoings.

“Put that kunai away!”

“‘Scuse me!”

“Eat with chopsticks!”

You finally made it out of the crowd and stop dead in your tracks, seeing Suigetsu relaxing in a large hot tub. When he catches your glance, he smirks showing off his sharp teeth as he wiggles his eyebrows playfully at you.

You stare at him in disbelief. “What is my ex doing here?!” Suigetsu chuckles. “Oh c’mon babe, I’d never miss a party like this!”

“How did you even find this place?! You’re not even an Akatsuki!” You exclaim. “Yeah I am! See?” Suigetsu points to an Akatsuki hoodie that’s hanging on a coatrack near the tub. You sweatdrop. “Since WHEN?!”

Suigetsu grins as his eyes scans your curves. “By the way, I’m loving the bunny getup. You gonna do a little dance for me, Sweetheart!” You narrowed your eyes at him. “No…”

Suigetsu laughs. “Oh c’mon! At least come in the tub and skinny dip with me. Y’know like the old days?” He purrs with a suggestive smirk.

Your cheeks flushed as naughty memories fill your mind. You shake it off and glare at Suigetsu. “See? This is why we broke up!”

“There you are Suigetsu!” You heard.

A woman with red hair and glasses stormed up to Suigetsu who stared at her wide eyed in shock.

“What the hell are you doing here?!” The red haired woman barked at him. Suigetsu blinked. “Who invited you, Karin?!”

You raised up your hands in disbelief. “Who invited EITHER of you?!” Karin turns to glare at you. “Are you the tramp who threw this Akatsuki party!”

You glare back. “It’s not their party it’s MY party! And it’s not a party it’s an intimate get together!”

“And who are you calling a tramp?! At least I didn’t dye my hair with used tampons!” Karin gasped in shock before growing angrily at you as she adjusts her glasses. “E-excuse me?!”

Suigetsu howled in laughter at the sight. “Man this party is wild!” Karin directed her glare back to him. “Suigetsu I look away for one minute and you’re out here partying with hussys?! Wait til I tell Sasuke!”

“Sasuke’s already here!” Suigetsu says with a smirk. You are Karin widen both of your eyes. “WHAT?!”

“THERE YOU ARE ITACHI!” You heard a voice say over the loud speaker. You widen your eyes. “No…”

You, Karin, and Suigetsu then to see Sasuke clashing swords with a clearly intoxicated Itachi who was drunkenly fighting back (although still being a formidable opponent).

The spotlight shone on both fighters as the crowd cheered them on. The impact of their blades shook up the base more and more. You grabbed your hair as you stared at them in horror. “No NO NOOOO!”

Karin rushed through the crowd as she raced for Sasuke. You glared at Suigetsu. “This is all your fault!”

Suigetsu gave you another smirk before pumping up a fist in the air.

“HIDAN AND DEIDARA’S PARTIES RULE!”

“YEAHHHHHHHHHH!” The crowd cheers.

You were getting fed up as the music started to change.

Y/N: First of all its not a party! But If it were a party, it would not be THERE party! It would be MY party!

Party guests: Y/N PARTY! Y/N PARTY!

Y/N: It’s not a party it’s an intimate get together!

Party guests and Akatsuki: Y/N PARTY! Y/N PARTY!

Y/N: DON’T CALL IT THAT! IT’S JUST A GET TOGETHER!

Party guests and Suigetsu: Y/N PARTY! Y/N PARTY!

You hadn’t even noticed that you started dancing to the music. Suigetsu nodded in approval as he chuckled. “Damn lady, you sure can dance!”

You stopped dancing and growled at Suigetsu as he laughs at your face. “I hate you…” you hissed. Suigetsu gave you a dreamy smile. “I loveeee you~” he sang playfully.

“Fuck you!”

“Well alright! Get in the tub with me, Sweetheart!”

“You’re sick, Suigetsu…”

“Oh c’mon! No one will notice!”

You shook your head in disbelief. You then take notice of the music change. You turn to the stage to see Sasori DJing.

You widened your eyes. “SASORI?! How did he-? When did-?!” You stopped and listen to the music. ‘He’s really good…you think you know someone…’

Sasori’s eyes met yours from afar. He gives you a dreamy smile before he shoots you a wink. You blushed. ‘Did he just wink at me?’

You saw from below the stage that multiple colored smoke shot out from below. Deep purple smoke also shot out from a wooden like canister that knocked out the party guests that were the closets to the stage.

You sweatdrop. ‘Okay so he’s clearly poisoning the party guests to turn them into puppets, right?’

“WHO’S BEEN SPENDING ALL MY MONEY?!” You heard. You turned to the source and shrieked seeing Kakuzu storm in. “Oh shit!”

Kakuzu heard this and instantly rushed over to you. Before you could do anything, Kakuzu grabbed you by the collar and held you up in the air.

“WHO TOLD YOU TO SPEND ALL MY MONEY ON A PARTY?!” He roared. You shook your head rapidly as panic fills you. “I-I-I didn’t!”

Kakuzu brought out his tendrils towards you. “You’ll pay with your life!” You widened your eyes in horror. “NOOOO!”

“LINE UP BITCHES! THE GAMBLING TOURNAMENT IS ABOUT TO BEGIN! PLACE YOUR BETS ON WHO WILL WIN THE FIGHT! ITACHI OR SASUKE?!” You heard.

You and Kakuzu turned seeing Hidan standing on top of a large table with a bunch of strippers holding a wad of ryo. Multiple party guests that surrounded them started placing their bets on the ongoing fight between the two brothers.

Kakuzu widened his eyes. “A gambling tournament?!” With a loud thud, Kakuzu drops you onto the ground, before making his way over to Hidan’s table.

“Kakuzu! I figured you’d show up!” Hidan laughs. “Shut up. I’m here to place my bet,” Kakuzu said.

You groan and rub your head as you slowly hit up. “Owww…”

‘Okay so at least I know that Kakuzu won’t snitch if moneys involved…’ you thought. You turn your attention towards the door seeing more guests pouring in. ‘I got to close it before anymore people show up!’

You race towards the door on the other side. That was when a large sword wrapped in bandages stabbed the ground in front of you, causing you to jump back as you yelped.

You turned around and widened your eyes seeing Kisame glaring down at you as he held his sword. “You’ve got a lot of nerve throwing a party at our base, newbie,” he snarled.

“K-K-Kisame…” you shrunk back as Kisame towered over you. Of all the members of the Akatsuki besides Kakuzu, Kisame intimidated you the most. At the same time however, he was kind of cute.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t tell our leader about this,” he hissed. You smiled sheepishly. “B-because you ain’t no snitch?” Kisame narrowed his eyes at you. Wrong answer. Now you were screwed.

“Yo Kisame! I’ve been looking all over for ya!” You heard a familiar voice say. You and Kisame turned to see Suigetsu walking towards you both in just his swim shorts and his sword.

Kisame broke into a grin. “Well if it isn’t Suigetsu. I wasn’t expecting to see you here…” Suigetsu chuckled. “Didn’t think you were the party type either. But since your here, why don’t we have a quick match to see who’s worthy of Shark Skin!”

And that was all it took for Kisame and Suigetsu to go at it and engage in battle. More things shattered as the hideout shook.

“PLACE YOUR BETS BITCHES! KISAME OR SUIGETSU! WHO WILL WIN?!” Hidan announced.

Karin slapped her money on the table. “Suigetsu! You better not lose!”

“Double on, Kisame. He always wins,” Kakuzu says cooly as he sets his money down.

The crowd cheered as they watched the two swordsmen duke it out. Your face went blue as you sweatdropped. “I think I just lost braincells…”

“You should relax and enjoy yourself, Y/N,” a mature womanly voice said. You turned around and saw that it was none other than Konan.

Her purple hair was down and she was clad in a tight black minidress. Men surrounded her as she danced to the beat. Your jaw dropped.

“KONAN?!”

She giggled in a way that caught you off guard. “Nagato would never let me have a party. This was a very great idea, Y/N. Thank you,” she winked.

You blushed a bit. “Y…you’re welcome…” Konan brought a hand towards you. “Care to dance?” You smiled nervously as you wave your hands. “N-no thanks…”

Konan smiles before continuing to dance for the men as they through money at her. Your eyes can’t help but fall to her curves. ‘She has a really nice body…why does she hide it?’

You shake off before heading back towards the door to lock it. “There! Now no one should be able to come in now!”

‘Now I just need to figure out how to get rid of these people…’ You thought.

“This is for calling me a tampon, you tramp!” You turned around seeing Karin behind you with a syringe. Before you could do or say anything, she injected you with the syringe causing you to scream.

Your mind became fizzy as your brain starts to fog up. You close your eyes and shake your head. “What the fuck?!”

You opened your eyes seeing how the room appeared more colorful than before. You saw music notes flying in the air while some the party guests appeared to be floating on top of it

You widened your eyes. “What the fuuuuuck?” You slurred. You took a few steps, swaying as you moved.

Your body became light and you appeared to be floating mid air for a few seconds. With each step you took, the floors became as soft as marshmallows.

The dopamine affect filled your brain as your lips broke into a grin. “This feels kinda good…” You chuckled as you took in the sight of the party guests.

Suigetsu and Kisame were using their swords to surf on the waves that were in the air while Itachi and Sasuke happily frolicked through the crowd while holding hands.

You saw Kakuzu tossing his money in the air like confetti to the many strippers around him. You immediately frowned feeling a migraine. “I don’t feel so gooood…” you slurred as you sway walked towards Hidan’s table.

You saw how Hidan was spraying rainbow colored liquid at guests from a champagne bottle. You fell right in front of Hidan when you tripped.

Hidan looks down at you in confusion. “Y/N?” You raise your hand towards him helplessly. “Hi….dannn helppp meeee,” you slurred. Hidan smirked at you. “Ya want some too babe? Here!”

You opened your mouth to say something, but Hidan already shot alcohol into your mouth from the bottle. You gagged in your mouth a bit before swallowing the hot and spicy liquid.

You stood up and coughed as your vision became even hazier. You looked up and saw a naked Deidara hanging onto the legs on a giant clay bird that was flying over the crowd.

He then let go and immediately plummeted into the hot tub. You widened your eyes in horror.

“DEIDARA! I’LL SAVE YOU!”

As a result of the drugs, you mustered the strength and pushed through the crowd of people. You finally made it over to the rainbow colored tub full of pink water and jumped right in.

“I’M COMING DEI DEI!”

SPLASH!

You dove deep into the hot water. From underneath you saw a blonde haired creature with tentacles. You screamed as you flail your arms. You looked above you and saw the surface move higher and higher as you appeared to be sinking downward.

‘What the hell?! Is this an ocean?! Fuck fuck fuck! I can’t swim! I’M DROWNING!’ You mentally screamed as you slowly started losing oxygen.

You then felt a pair of hands grab both your arms and hoist you up and out of the tub. You gasped for air as you coughed out the water.

“Y/N…” a smooth male voice said.

You glanced up and saw that it was none other than Pein, staring down at you coldly with his renagan eyes as he held you.

Your lips formed a sloppy smirk as your eyes hooded. “Hi Daddy~” you squealed. Pein’s eyes narrowed. “Who told you that you could throw a party…?”

“I didddd~” you sang teasingly. Pein squeezed his grip on you causing you to yelp. “And how do you plan on making this up to me and fixing the mess you made?” He asked. You giggled as you batted your eyelashes. “I have an idea or two I think you might like…”

…

You woke up in your room covered in blankets that night. You gasped as you shot up from your bed. “What the…? It was just a dream?”

“‘Fraid not, Sweetie Cakes~” a familiar voice said playfully. You froze as you widened your eyes. ‘No…’

You slowly turned to your right and saw a naked Suigetsu lying down next to you. He waved at you playfully as he sipped his water bottle.

“What the hell are you doing in my bed?!” You cried. Suigetsu chuckled. “Hey, relax. You were the one who came on to me last night, remember? And man you were wild!”

“I…” you were completely stunned as your cheeks redden. ‘So I really got high last night?’ You thought. You gasped as you remembered the other Akatsuki members. “Oh my god! What about my leader and-?”

Suigetsu snickered. “What do ya mean? You went ahead and came onto everyone! See?” You followed his gazed and gasped seeing all the naked Akatsuki members in your bed sleeping. “I slept with my entire team?!” You shrieked.

Alongside them included Sasuke and Karin who were also naked and in bed sleep. Suigetsu’s eyes lit up as he stared at the latter two. “Surprised you went ahead and fucked my own teammates too! You definitely showed Karin a good time! Maybe she’ll start to loosen up more!”

Your jaw dropped as you stared at Karin who had a silly, dazed smile on her sleeping face like she just had the best sex of her life. Your face was on fire as you stared at both her and Konan. “B-but…but I’m not…”

Suigetsu laughed out loud, making you turn to glare at him. He stopped and smiled as he place his hand on your hip to rub it sensually. “Hey now, don’t sweat it Sweetheart. It doesn’t matter to me which way you swing. I accept ya,” he winks.

You stared at him incredulously as you blinked. Seeing how you didn’t say anything else, Suigetsu leaned up towards you and gave you a kiss on the cheek. His sharp teeth just barely grazing it. It was comforting to say the least.

He brought his bottle towards you. “Wanna sip?” You instantly snatch his bottle and take a long sip in an attempt to cool down before handing Suigetsu back his bottle. He frowned when he shook it. “Hey, you finished it…”

“Get out,” you say. Suigetsu widened his eyes. “What? No breakfast? Can I at least take a yogurt with me?” You glared at him. “I said get out!”

Suigetsu sighed before he got up and got dressed before taking his bottle. “Later~” he waved as he walked out of the room.

You groaned as you facepalmed. “I can’t believe I slept with my own team!” You then sweatdropped. “And I don’t even remember it…”

You then heard the sound of a loud yawn. You turned seeing that it was Hidan. He gave you a lazy smile. “Morning gorgeous!” Deidara groaned. “Keep it down. I’m trying to sleep, hm!”

Hidan chuckled at that before putting an arm around you. “Best party ever, right?” You narrowed your eyes at him before kicking both him and Deidara out of the bed roughly, causing them to hit the floor.

“Owwwwww….” They both groaned in unison.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed! The Suigetsu stuff is a bit of a set up because I’m gonna start writing some x reader scenarios with him since no one else seems to give him enough love. Anyways, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

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ladykissingfish · 2 months

Text

*Konan visiting Deidara in his new apartment*

Konan: My god … this place is amazing! So big and spacious … *goes to the window* And with a fantastic view!

Deidara: It IS gorgeous, isn’t it?

Konan: It is, but … how are you going to afford this? I mean unless you got some giant pay increase that I’m unaware of …

Deidara: Sadly, I did not, hm. But don’t worry, I’ve got it under control … I’m going to be interviewing roommates today. That’s why I wanted you here today; the first guy on the phone has good references and all, but sounded a little weird.

Konan: Gotcha. I’m here for you, Dei.

*the doorbell rings and Deidara goes to answer it*

Deidara: Hi! You must be Sasori Akasuna?

Sasori, dryly: Unless you’ve scheduled another Sasori Akasuna to be here at this exact same time, then yes, I am.

Deidara: Okay … well it’s nice to meet you … *extends his hand for a handshake*

Sasori: *eyes Deidara’s hand* If it’s all the same to you, I just Purell’d my hands on the way up, and I don’t fancy doing it again.

Deidara: … okay?

Sasori: *looks at Konan* Are you his … girlfriend?

Konan: No, just a friend.

Sasori: Ah, I thought as much. *chuckles and looks at Deidara* No way in hell you could land a woman who looks like that. Anyway, why don’t you give me the tour?

*Deidara shows him around, ending with the room that would potentially be Sasori’s bedroom*

Sasori: Ah; this room has a perfect view. Excellent; I’m an artist, and being able to see outside is important to me.

Deidara, excitedly: You’re an artist? Me, too! I make —

Sasori: I know all about your particular brand of “art”. You have that interactive exhibit at the museum, right? I’ve been to a few of your shows. It’s amazing that you’re allowed to label petty explosions as “art”; even more impressive that people throw money at you for such foolishness.

Deidara: Listen here, you stupid fu —

Konan, quickly interrupting: What kind of an artist are YOU?

Sasori: I create portrait dolls.

Konan: Portrait dolls?

Sasori: Mm. People give me photographs of their friends or relatives, and I create dolls for them based off of the photos. My creations are intricate, delicate, and meant to last a lifetime. I capture the person’s image, their soul, and the work remains long after the person has passed on.

Konan: That sounds so lovely!

Deidara: But if you just play with dolls all day, what do you need to look outside for?

Sasori: Because sometimes I like to look at random people passing by, and imagine how they’d look as one of my creations. Under my hands, in my care, they would never grow old, never get sick, never die. Much preferable to a puny mortal life, wouldn’t you say? One day, if I’m lucky, I’ll have found a way to turn myself, my human body, into one of my pieces.

Deidara and Konan:

Deidara: … thanks so much for coming to see the place, hm. I have some more interviews today, so I’ll get back to you by tomorrow afternoon.

*Sasori leaves and Deidara shuts the front door behind him*

Konan: Whew! My god, what a nut job! And he was so sarcastic … well, I guess that’s one name you can cross off the list, huh? Now, who’s coming next?

Deidara: No one.

Konan: No one? But didn’t you say that you’ve got interviews lined up all —

Deidara: Not anymore. I want THAT fucker to be my roommate. Hell, if everything goes right, this time next year you’ll be sitting here helping me plan our wedding!

Konan:

@sasodeiweek

#SasoDeiWeek2024 #Portrait/Roommates #❤️💛#sasodei #sasori x deidara #sasori #deidara #konan #and they were roommates

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emmalouisefanfiction · 2 months

Text

My contribution to the @sasodeiweek event.

Prompt: Obsession/Possession.

Summary: His final art was supposed to be it. Deidara's name would be lit up for all history to admire. It was just his luck that Sasori had other plans.

AO3 Tags: Post-CanonPost-War, Established Relationship, Past Relationship(s), Unequal partnership, Power Imbalance, Sasori's a bit of a dick, Puppets, Non-Consensual Touching, Somnophilia, Sasori has no understanding of personal space.

------------

He was dead. He’d died. He had blown himself up. But suddenly, Deidara wasn’t so sure about that. If this was the realm of the dead then he was hallucinating.

Am I alive? Again?

His body stiffened. His legs felt like they were fused together. But his arm burned as though someone had tried to blow him up. He smiled at that. At least, he tried to smile. His mouth wouldn’t twist and his face was rigid. And all of a sudden he became aware of his predicament.

Stuck. Stiff. Frozen in place. Unfeeling.

His eyes wouldn’t open but his ears detected movement nearby. The sound of shuffling feet. Metal instruments clanging ever so softly against each other. He couldn’t feel anything but his imagination told him the air was stuffy and filled with the smell of concoctions. Perhaps it was just his paranoia.

Fear trickled through him at the sound of hurried footsteps. He braced himself for an attack, as much as he could as he wasn’t physically capable of it. But no, this would not do. He hadn’t truly feared anything for a long time. And the Uchiha brothers didn’t count. They were abominations.

He waited. And waited. But no cold steel sliced at him. There were no surges of chakra. Nothing. Nothing that he could feel or sense. It was annoying. And strange. He tried to focus on his breathing but it didn’t come. Even stranger.

Feeling emboldened, he tried to cry out, to make some noise to attract attention to his conscious state. Surely the someone nearby meant him no harm. They could help. Though he was loath to do it. Since when did Deidara, the magnificent explosives expert with perfect hair and the greatest art the world has ever seen, needed anything? From anyone? People were just test subjects for his art.

Still, his efforts were in vain. Which was just as well, because he’d never live down the shame of pleading for help. But what to do?

An abrupt clunking sound echoed in the room. He presumed he was in a room, but he could be outdoors for all he knew. If he wasn’t so cut off from everything, he might have jumped, startled. The drip, drop of liquids, like water falling from the ceiling. Or blood.

He still couldn’t smile.

And quite suddenly, his eyes began to move, wiggling under their lids like a bird about to hatch.

“No, too soon.” The husky voice was soft and coaxing; a warm breath on his ear now that he could finally feel it. “Relax. Go back to sleep.”

------------

Sensations.

Several of them.

The first was a tingly feeling. Like he had skin and pores and goosebumps but they didn’t work quite right. Deidara scoffed.

The second was the soft stroke of something hard against him. Not a kunai but not skin. Something pliable like his clay but with a mind of its own.

Sasori’s puppet hand? He tried to smirk. Or something more salacious? He wouldn’t be opposed to it. But Deidara preferred to be a participant, not some doll that sat there and waited to be touched. This was… unacceptable.

The third sensation was akin to fear. More like helplessness. And a bit of anger.

But he couldn’t stop it. The touching. The feelings.

It started along his chest, soft and cautious. If he still had fine hairs there they would probably be standing on end. There was no warmth. Or cold. Just touch against touch. These probing strokes continued; the shape of the palm of a hand splayed out on his torso. A humming sound. Like his attacker was debating something.

Sasori.

More than the logical presumption of his partner’s puppet body, Deidara had heard his voice. He would know the sounds of the redhead anywhere.

But what is he doing, yeah?

He waited. It made him tremble in anticipation. His partner. His former lover. What was he doing with Deidara’s prone body? What was he… ugh. Okay, when he got his autonomy back, Sasori was going to die. Again.

His partner’s hand was now moving downwards. It was joined by his other hand and soft caresses trickled along his torso before gripping his hips. Almost like Sasori used to do back when he had a cock. When Deidara had a cock. And speaking of cocks.

Warmth. Fuck. Warmth. No, heat. Gripping and stroking. Kami. Please, fuck!

Deidara couldn’t moan or whine like he wanted but the tautness of his body stretched him; phantom pleasure from a time long ago. He remembered what those hands were capable of. Stroking his dick. Did he even have a dick? It sure felt like it. This was too familiar.

And then suddenly, all those sensations vanished. They left behind a cold breeze. Bereft of a lover’s touch.

Sasori’s voice was husky, like he’d run that marathon with him. “Good. You’re getting there.”

The darkness consumed him once more.

------------

What is that odd feeling?

His eyes were still clamped shut but now he could move his fingers and toes. It was little comfort. Coming out of the haze was different. The transition was easier this time.

This time it felt like Sasori was merely massaging him. Breathing life into his limbs. Getting his circulation pumping. It was clinical. Not arousing at all. Except for the fact that it was. Fingers probed his calves, quick and deft. They moved to his toes and the sensation of control spread throughout his leg.

“Yes,” Sasori said. It came from the darkness of Deidara’s perception but it held so much hope. “Right there.”

If he wasn’t trying to be sexual, he was failing. Husky. He moaned. Then stopped suddenly, startled by the sound of his own voice.

“Does that feel good?”

Deidara couldn’t speak of course but he felt his body react. His throat hummed. Sasori’s hand found his cock again, like before. The massage was no different than before barring the eroticism had grown to a higher level. And his balls were squeezed and fondled.

“Progress.”

How the fuck was Sasori manhandling his dick (he presumed it was his dick) progress ? And progress to what exactly?

“You will soon feel it all.”

Huh?

It wasn’t a question.

“Did you forget we used to do that all the time.”

Sasori’s voice was light-hearted now. Almost as carefree as the boy he’d once been.

Deidara moaned again. The blissfulness of his memory of an orgasm knocking him out cold.

------------

This time Deidara couldn’t move at all. Like all the progress Sasori had talked about had disappeared. Vanished. Much like his own tarnished soul.

This has to be the realm of the dead. But not a hallucination.

Sasori was talking nearby. Clanking and dripping sounds. In all the somnophilia, Deidara had forgotten his background. But now it is more pronounced than ever. He had to be in a lab. One of Sasori’s laboratories. Maybe the very one he’d used to turn himself into a puppet in the first place.

Wait.

What was the fucker doing ?

Wait.

The last time he came back to life it was in another body. He’d felt invincible. It had been the perfect opportunity to test his Suicide Bomb Jutsu. The one that had failed to kill Sasuke. The bastard.

Wait.

Yeah, Sasori had come back too. But the baka had also willingly “let go” or whatever that stupid disappearing act of his was. The jerk! But did this mean he hadn’t really gone? Or were they both brought back by Madara again? This was so confusing.

“Your memories are incomplete.”

Sasori’s breath was on his face and Deidara could feel the moist warmth. But no smell.

Huh? Yeah? Well your dick is incomplete, senpai!

“They need to be retrieved.”

Deidara mentally rolled his eyes as Sasori’s hands were on him again. But only for a moment this time. They abruptly pulled away.

“One last time.”

------------

“You’re complete now. Wake up.”

Blue eyes opened slowly. More tentatively than before. Once the ceiling came into focus, he blinked quickly a few times then scrunched his eyes together tightly. Almost like it really was a hallucination. Dimly aware of his own body, he groaned and tried to roll over. Sasori’s hands were on him again, this time helping him to move. To sit on the side of the bed, his legs over the edge.

“What the fuck?” His own voice was hoarse.

“You are alive again.”

Deidara blinked again. The greyish brown eyes of his partner were more alive than he’d ever seen them. But he still retained that cool aloofness that Deidara had always tried to imitate. A concerned expression sent the room spinning and the blond gripped Sasori tightly. He wasn’t ready for this.

“When I said you were stuck with me as a partner, this wasn’t what I meant, un.”

Sasori didn’t shrug his shoulders or sigh in exasperation. In fact, Deidara was only beginning to realise just how non-expressive his Akatsuki partner really was.

“What did you do, un?”

“I revived you.”

“How?”

“I’ll explain the details later. But suffice it to say, I had a back-up plan.”

Deidara grunted. “Yeah, sure.”

His partner didn’t take the bait.

“Fine,” he said. “I accept it. But why am I here?”

He knew the answer. Memories of Sasori’s hands on his cock were proof enough. They had been together for a while before Sasori’s “death” at the hands of his grandmother and that underaged pink-haired tween. It hadn’t gone very far and there was no love lost between them. So if Sasori had revived Deidara now, for the same reason he’d struck up their relationship then, then…

“Is this like a sex thing or something, un?”

“Or something.”

Deidara raised an eyebrow at him.

The corner of Sasori’s lips quirked upward slightly.

------------

#SasoDei #sasori x deidara #sasodeiweek2024 #sasodeiweek #mine #fanfiction #ao3 #not really all that safe for work #but that's fanfiction for you

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uchiwife · 2 years

Text

Pairing : ItaSaku.🌸🍡 [ Modern AU.]

(In this story Itachi is 21 and Sakura is 19.)

Characters: Haruno Sakura, Uchiha Itachi, Uzumaki Naruto, Uchiha Sasuke, Yamanaka Ino, Sai, Nara Shikamaru, Temari, Uchiha Shisui, Uchiha Izumi, Sasori, Deidara. ( Some are only mentioned or make brief appearances.)

Category: Slice of life, fluff, angst and some humor.

WARNING(S): Good question. Let me know.

Word count : 10k

a/n : English is not my mother tongue, so please excuse me for any mistakes I might commit in it. ꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ

—

[ In the middle of the night, in the middle of the night, just call my name, I'm yours to tame. In the middle of the night, in the middle of the night, I'm wide awake, I crave your taste, all night long 'til morning comes I'm getting what is mine, you gon' get yours. ♡]

“Today is the day!”

Sakura stood in front of her mirror, cheering herself on for the last 15 minutes. She admired her reflection, appreciating the view the mirror reflected back to her. She wasn't too shallow, but she liked to feel beautiful and today she thought she was really pretty. Stressed maybe, nervous even, but very pretty.

She couldn't believe today was the day she would confess her feelings. It's not fair that he's so handsome! She’d always thought he was cute, but back then it was different, he had been her friend. She wasn't sure if two years was the beginning of her love for him, but she was sure it was time to confess. She couldn't live like this anymore, pining for a guy, dreaming of a future that might never exist. This day would determine the rest of her love life; either the man she loved would return her feelings, or she would be heartbroken and have to move on.

The very idea of him not sharing her feelings was painful, but she would respect his decision no matter what. Her mother had always told her that in life when you want something, you have to go get it. And God how she was going to try to get him! Her mom had taught her early on that it was more beneficial for her to never depend on others, let alone for her happiness. People should always be a bonus in our lives, never a burden or something that drags us down. She had taken this lesson to heart, even though sometimes she would really like to be the one to bring that bonus of happiness into the life of the man she loved.

She sighed, tucking a pink lock of hair behind her ear. She checked her dress for creases, made sure nothing was askew, and that her makeup didn't smudge. It wasn’t the case. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly.

“ Okay, Sakura. You can do it! You don't have to be a genius! The worst he can say is no, after all.”

Huh. Yes, but, his 'no' might create some damage to my heart. Ugh, what am I going to do if he doesn't like me? I'll never be able to look him in the eyes again. Well, not for a while! Besides, we go to the same college, it's not like I can avoid him all year after that! ”

For heaven's sake, she has pink hair! PINK. She's a beacon in the night for lost souls! She owes her father for that pink hair Although her dad had a much deeper shade of pink. "We found you under a cherry tree," her father had told her when she was four. She snorted snidely. Yeah, right. He made it look like she'd popped out of a flower. Her younger self had bought into his bullshit long enough to be considered embarrassing.

She shook her head. She was getting off-topic. She always did. Her green eyes looked up at the clock on the wall before widening her eyes at the time. She quickly grabbed her shoulder bag, shoving her textbooks into it, and stormed out of her small apartment.

It wasn’t far from the campus. She lived in a shared flat with her best friend. They had decided early on that living together would cut down on expenses and on top of that, it was kind of nice to live with Ino-pig when she wasn't playing fashion designer and turning their apartment into a studio. Ino was exceptional in the field of fashion, she could turn any toad into a queen. She was good like that.

Sakura hurriedly got on her bike and pedaled to the campus. Ino often told her that she reminded her of Wes in HTGAWM or Mike in Suits, Sakura couldn't find it in herself to be offended by this comment because they were both smart, so she preferred to take it as a compliment rather than an insult plus, there was nothing wrong with riding a bike. She liked the bike, feeling the light breeze in her hair. Anything was better than walking. She could take the bus, but she had forgotten to renew her bus pass. Sakura thought that paying the electricity bill was much more important. She could live without buses or subways, she had legs that could take her anywhere, but without electricity? No. And Ino would probably kill her if she chose her pass over their comfort.

It took her less than ten minutes to reach her destination and hook the lock on her bike. The courtyard outside the campus was teeming with students. Some were in a bad mood, some were in a good mood, and some were wondering what the hell they were still doing here and why they were doing this to themselves. Sakura often found herself in between the three. Making sure one last time that the lock was in place, the young woman straightened up while arranging the strap of her bag on her shoulder.

Today was going to be quite a day.

***

It was lunchtime and Sakura still hadn't taken matters into her own hands. It wasn't for lack of trying. The first time she tried to confess her feelings, she ended up asking for a pen instead, claiming she didn't like blue. She'd played it cool, but she was sure the guy had glanced at her pencil case and the countless pens in it. She pretended not to notice and he did the same by lending her one of his.

The second time she tried, she lied and said she had forgotten her organic chemistry textbook and that it would be nice if he let her read the instructions for the assignment. She doubted he really believed her because Sakura wasn't known for her absent-mindedness when it came to her studies, but being the kind man that he is, he graciously said yes as if he genuinely believed that she had forgotten her textbook when it was clearly sticking out of her bag.

The third time... well, there was no third time! Not yet. She was starving, so she decided to postpone her plans and go buy some food. She will need all the energy she can get when she goes to proclaim her love...

“Move out of the way, Sak', there are thirsty people here.”

The young woman gasped and turned to find herself facing a blonde with four pigtails.

“Oh, Tem'. Sorry, I was distracted!”

Temari was a student from Suna. A city located in the southwest where the heat was compared to the desert. She was an exchange student. Sakura liked Temari with her you always knew where you stood. She was straightforward. She was currently dating one of her good friends from middle school and Sakura had dated her cousin a few years ago, so the two women knew each other well since they had spent quite a bit of time together.

“When aren't you? So what's up? Did you recover from last Saturday's party?”

Sakura moved slightly to the side to let Temari indulge in her junk food and soda. She winced slightly at the memory of the said party.

“I had to carry Ino drunk on my back. Do you know how affectionate she is when she's drunk? And loud? Even worse than Naruto. And it's hard to do worse than him.”

Temari snickered at her friend's expense, she had actually heard Ino yell “I love you assholes. I love you guys, you're my friends for life. You're the Boots of my Dora” at some point in the evening. She had amused many. Only Ino would make cartoon references meant for four-year-olds.

“She's charming. Who knew?”

Sakura snorted.

“Don't let her hear you say that.”

They walked to the outside tables, heading for the seats their friends had saved for them. Sakura was about to sit next to Naruto who as usual was eating like a pig, but a pleading look at her dark-haired friend was enough for the latter to smack the back of the blonde's head.

“Oi! What was that for, Teme!?”

“You're eating like a three-year-old, Dobe. You're splattering everyone with your ramen.”

“I'm gonna splatter your face!”

“Oh, I didn't know you swung that way.” Sai interjected, a thoughtful look on his face before adding, “It makes sense, I guess... You've always been very close to Sasuke. You even took baths together.”

There was silence. The sound of falling cutlery was heard and all attention was focused on the two men whose faces were turning red. Naruto began to fidget wildly stammering incomprehensible words while Sasuke choked on his onigiri. Only Sakura patting his back had probably saved him from choking to death.

“WHAT THE FUCK, SAI!? WE WERE LIKE 1 YEAR OLD AT THE TIME! HOW DID YOU KNOW THAT ANYWAY !?”

Naruto would have probably jumped at Sai's throat if Shikamaru hadn't held him back by the collar of his shirt with a bored look on his face. Sai, on the other hand, was completely calm and eating his Momen Tofu.

“Your lovely mother showed me your photo album last Christmas. I didn't know you had a thing for bodysuits with toad prints on them either. That explains so much about you...”

“Sai, I swear...!”

All the attention on the boys was forgotten when everyone realized it wasn't a coming out. Conversations gradually resumed and Sakura shook her head, wondering what she had done to be friends with such idiots.

“Sai, for the last time, I'm not dating that dobe, and even if I were paid to do so, I'd still rather be drowned in a puddle.”

Sakura opened her mouth about to retort that technically he couldn't die drowning in a puddle but Sasuke seemed to guess her intentions and glared at her.

“You, miss know-it-all, shut up.”

Sakura faked an outraged look and had to restrain herself from laughing under the murderous gaze of her childhood friend. She raised her hands, playing the innocence card.

“Oi, bastard! You think I want you? Even the sun wouldn't be enough to warm your cold ass. If I wanted to live near a freezer, I would have come to you already.”

The whole table burst into laughter as Sasuke frowned and Sakura gently patted his shoulder in a mock comfort. Sakura loved her friends. Some of them had known each other since kindergarten, others since elementary school, middle school, or even high school. They were her second family. She knew she could count on them and they on her.

***

The sun's rays caressed Sakura's skin as she basked under the cloudless sky. She had two hours to spare and sunbathing wasn't a bad idea. At least that was what she had planned to do but her sharp eye had spotted her target. She quickly stood up and walked towards him. He was sitting on a bench, under a tree, slightly in the shade, his nose plunged in his novel. He couldn't see her since Sakura was coming from behind, but she would have recognized that black hair everywhere.

“Okay, Sak. Take a breath. This is it. You can do it!”

She approached slowly, her heart pounding and her hands slightly clammy, she winced but didn't care any more than that. She leaned forward, reading over his shoulder. A philosophical novel. Typical. So Itachi. A soft smile formed on her lips.

“Nice butt… Book! Omg, BOOK. I meant book, I swear!”

Itachi was taken aback but he regained his composure so quickly that it was barely noticeable. Sakura was blushing like crazy. Now she had to open her big mouth and make a fool of herself. Nice butt?! What's wrong with her? A slip of the tongue at the worst possible moment! She had no timing!

“I'm sure.” Replied the man, a hint of amusement in his voice and if Sakura wasn't so freaked out by her slip, she probably would have noticed.

“I got it from my mom.”

“What!?” she squeaked, her cheeks pink.

Itachi raised an eyebrow and God damn him for looking so good. He didn't even seem to react!

“The book, Sakura. Mother gave it to me.”

“Oh... OH. Yeah! The book!” She scratched the back of her head, laughing nervously, a very familiar gesture that reminded Itachi of a very loud blond.

“Of course, you got it from your mother! I mean, who else? It certainly wasn't your father who...” Seeing his curious and mischievous gaze Sakura caught herself: “ I mean... not that your father doesn't have a nice bu... book! I just don't look at his... library. hahaha omggg shut up!”

She hid her face in her hands, probably redder than the tomatoes Sasuke was fond of.

“I didn't say anything.” replied Itachi's soft and deep voice. The same one that was doing strange things to a part of her body she'd rather not think about right now.

“I KNOW! I...ugh!”

Before she could humiliate herself any further, her savior came in the person of another head of black hair. Except that his hair was short and had nice curls. Curls that Sakura often wanted to undo for her own pleasure. She felt a muscular arm wrap around her shoulder and the newcomer's breath tickles her ear.

“Hey there, princess. What's new under that pretty dress?”

Shisui joked. Shisui, an inveterate flirt and Itachi's older cousin by two years. He loved to tease Sakura, just for the fun of seeing her get all flustered and angry. The young woman elbowed him in the ribs muttering "my undergarments", which made the older man grunt and laugh as he released his arm to massage his ribs with one hand. He was still amazed at her strength even after all these years. He looked at Itachi who was watching the exchange with a look of exasperation but there was a certain fondness behind his obsidian eyes. You only noticed it if you knew where to look.

“Looks like you’re still harassing other students, Shisui.”

Shisui gave him a look.

“I don't know what you're talking about, I make friends everywhere I go.”

“STDs too.”

Sakura stifled her laughter, and masked it with a cough but she didn't miss the indignant look on the older Uchihas' face.

“I'll have you know that I'm very careful, my body is a temple!”

“The temple of stupidity, perhaps.”

This time Sakura couldn't contain her laughter and for good measure, Shisui pinched her ribs making her yelp in surprise. She narrowed her eyes and leaped at the man who had no trouble restraining her with just the palm of his hand placed on her forehead. He was so tall compared to her. She was cursing him for it.

“Easy, kitten. You're going to hurt yourself.”

“Shisui, you...” she ranted.

“What was that?”

His eyes shone with amusement as he watched the girl try to attack him. The little brat still managed to kick him in the shin. He automatically let go of her, grunting in pain while Sakura looked both smug and proud of herself as she crossed her arms against her chest.

“You better remember that cats scratch when provoked.”

His gaze suddenly darkened, a Cheshire smile stretching across his lips. He opened his mouth, a retort already on the tip of his lips but Itachi seemed to have noticed because he roughly grabbed the back of his cousin's shirt and made him sit on the bench.

“Shisui.” warned Itachi, his eyes narrowed. The older Uchiha rolled his own, he knew when not to mess with his cousin. Sakura's eyes flicked from one to the other, confused. the question written in her eyes. Shisui smiled at her, but didn't answer, he just shook his head, which made the girl frown at first, then she shrugged, dropping the subject.

“Anyway. I'm going to go get some water from the vending machine. Would either of you like me to bring a bottle or something?”

Itachi turned to her, his features smooth again, but he smiled kindly, politely as always.

“A bottle of water is fine with me. Thank you, Sakura.”

She nodded, then turned to the other Uchiha.

“How about you, Shi'?”

The man stood up from the bench and stretched his arms over his head, cracking a bone or two.

“Nah, I’m good, princess. I'll come with you. I forgot to pack a few things on the way here. Since I was looking for Itachi, I forgot them.”

Itachi snorted but made no further comment. In fact, he had returned his attention to his book. Sakura was pulled along by Shisui's arm as it wrapped around her slim waist. She let herself be led away after asking Itachi to keep her things until she comes back. He nodded, staring at them intently for a few seconds before resuming his reading.

***

With two bottles of fresh water in her hands, Sakura made her way back. She was alone when she returned. Shisui told her not to wait for him because he still had to get his stuff. She thought about her problem and decided to take advantage of Shisui's absence to confess her feelings to his cousin.

It didn't start well, to say the least. She made an absolute fool of herself. Just thinking about it made her cheeks flush. She hadn't lied, after all, he really did have a nice ass, but she hadn't wanted to say it out loud, let alone like that. It was probably nervousness that was making her act like a crazy person.

As she approached the spot where she had left Itachi and her things, she froze. The scene that greeted her stunned her. She quickly hid behind the closest tree and spied on what she hoped would not be a private moment.

She could see a beautiful girl, she looked vaguely familiar. Sakura was far enough away not to be seen, but close enough to catch a few snippets of their conversation.

“…A long time. I love you, Itachi. I thought maybe we could...”

Sakura couldn't see Itachi's face. All she could see was his back, his slender form, standing in front of the girl who was confessing her love for him. Sakura's heart sank. It wasn't surprising. Itachi was a remarkable guy, people would be crazy not to like him. Making sure to be silent, she leaned in to hear more of the conversation and recognized Izumi. Izumi was a very close friend of Shisui and Itachi. Sakura had heard a few years ago that she and Itachi had been involved but she didn't know if it was the truth or just unsubstantiated rumors. She didn't dwell on it at the time. Rumors could be harmful and she didn't want to be a part of that. Even less if it concerned one of her friends who is, moreover, the brother of one of her best friends.

She focused on them again, her heart beating faster due to the nervousness that knotted her stomach. She felt like a voyeur and it made her cringe, but she needed to know. Itachi must have said something, but it was far too low for her to hear. She frowned and decided to trust the expressions on the girl's face. The brunette took a step closer, one hand on his forearm. Itachi didn't seem to push her hand away or be bothered. There was... a certain familiarity in their gestures. Just the thought of it, Sakura's heart clenched even more. She hoped it wasn't what she thought it was... Unfortunately, all her fears came true before her eyes. She had only blinked, but apparently that was enough for her to miss something, because the next minute, Izumi was kissing the man Sakura loved.

She thought she heard a cracking sound before realizing that it must be the feeling of her heart being torn apart. Tears welled up in her eyes. Shit, shit, shit. Does he have a girlfriend? HE HAS A GIRLFRIEND? As in a girl he holds hands with and hugs and kisses and sleeps with ???? No. No. No. Don't think about it. If she didn't calm down, she might hyperventilate.

She had to get out of here. NOW. She couldn't watch this. It hurt too much. She was going to run, but then she remembered that her bag was still on the bench.

“Damn it.”

She couldn't leave without her bag. She needed it for her next class and on top of that, she still had Itachi's water bottle! She was screwed! She leaned her back against the tree trunk and took a deep breath. She was in pain, she felt like her stomach had just dropped and all her hopes and dreams had just been shattered.

“All right, breathe, Sak. It's going to be okay. Get a grip.”

She slowly counted to ten and fought back her tears, straightened her shoulders, and suppressed her pain as best she could. She moved on autopilot. Her body felt stiff, but it was the best she could do. She purposefully made her footsteps loud enough to attract the attention of the couple.

It was the sound of their lips parting that finally broke her. She wasn't quite looking at Itachi's eyes but rather at his chin. She couldn't look at him, not anymore.

Izumi was the first to react.

“Oh, Sakura! Hi! What are you doing here?”

Izumi looked flustered, her cheeks were pink. Sakura didn't know if it was because of the kiss or because she had interrupted them. It didn't matter. She cleared her throat and focused her attention on the older girl, a small smile on her lips. She congratulated herself for having managed to put one on. It was fake, sure, but it would do. She called it "Sai's smile" because she'd seen him use it enough times to know that it could fool a lot of people.

“Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt.”

Huff, she's kissing the man I love and I still find a way to apologize for interrupting them!? Well done, Sakura. You'd make a great career in sadomasochism.

“I forgot my bag and I...”

she pointed to the bottle of fresh water in her hand and wordlessly handed it to Itachi who was staring at her with an intensity that her heart couldn’t bear. Itachi took the bottle and his long thin fingers brushed hers. Sakura hastily withdrew her hand, she fidgeted nervously, clutching her bottle to soothe the burn of his touch.

"Thank you."

Sakura nodded and picked up her bag. She offered an apologetic smile to the pair. Izumi seemed completely unaware of the tension. She gave her a bright smile.

“Your dress is really pretty, Saku. A date, perhaps?”

The brunette gave her a knowing wink and Sakura held back from telling her that she could have, but that she had just stolen the love of her life. Ugh, no. I'm being a drama queen again, the young woman thought.

“Oh, no! No, I just... Sometimes girls like to feel pretty.”

Izumi's expression softened and she nodded.

“You look beautiful.”

It was at that very moment that Sakura knew she could never hate Izumi. She was jealous, yes, but she couldn't find it in herself to hate her for taking the man she liked. Izumi was beautiful, smart, sweet, and kind, she had helped Sakura a few times in high school with her homework. She was a good-hearted person, and even though it hurt her to admit it, she could make Itachi happy. She could be good for him. How could Sakura compete? She wasn't going to try. Sakura wasn’t a homewrecker.

It was the brunette's voice that brought her back to reality.

“Isn't she, Itachi?”

Sakura felt her breath catch. God must really hate her right now. She had always been a decent girl, at least she liked to think so. She didn't dare meet his gaze at first, but finally, she did and her cheeks heated up. His obsidian orbs seemed to roam over her figure, but surely she must have imagined it. Like he was going to ogle her while his girlfriend was right there. He made a small noise of assent, nodding.

“You look lovely, Sakura.”

The pink-haired girl felt her heart racing and she blushed harder. He had no right to sound so hot when he complimented her or when he said her name like that. However, the joy disappeared as quickly as it came.

He had a girlfriend and probably just wanted to humor me. The pain seemed numb for now, but she knew it would come back later. When she was alone.

“T-thank you...”

There was a slight pause, then she said :

“I have to go. I'm gonna be late for class.”

She lied, but what else could she do? Stay here and watch them smooch? Take the pompoms from her old Halloween cheerleader costume while congratulating them on the skill of their tongue down each other's throats? She scoff. Yeah right. Rather die drowning in a puddle as Sasuke would say.

She put the strap of her bag over her shoulder and squeaked a quick “see you later” and left hurriedly. "Running away" was the right word really, but she wasn't feeling brave right now. She was running like she had the devil on her tail. She could almost swear she felt the burn of an onyx gaze fixed on her back but she was too much of a coward to check.

Today was not the day.

There would never be a day.

There was nothing left but her and her broken heart.

***

Two weeks.

Two fucking weeks. What Sakura would later call her drama queen era had already happened a fortnight ago. Fifteen days and her heart was still aching. She had tried to take her mind off it. She avoided Itachi like the plague. She congratulated herself for this ability because they had a few classes in common and it wasn’t an easy task! The black-haired man had tried to talk to her, but she had shied away every time. He had probably noticed that he didn't see her around as much anymore. He hadn't confronted her or even accused her of avoiding him or anything, but she knew he knew she was avoiding him.

Sakura didn't text him back anymore and when she did, the answers were very short. She no longer offered to stop by the local Starbucks, no longer joined him during lunch breaks like she sometimes did when she wasn't eating with the others and she was pretty sure Shisui had noticed the tension between them. She was still talking with Shisui. She liked Shisui, he hadn't done anything to her and it wasn't his fault that his cousin didn't return her feelings so it would be unfair to punish him.

Sakura wasn't punishing Itachi, not really, in fact, she just needed time. Time for herself and time to move on. Right now, it was too hard. The pain was still fresh and every time she saw him on campus, her chest clenched and she felt like crying...

She told Ino about it, and Ino-pig was a great comfort until Sakura emptied the pack of Kleenex. The blonde had pulled her best friend off the couch and told her they were going to go out and have fun. That Sakura was going to drink, dance, and shake her ass on the fucking dance floor! Ino's words, not hers.

It helped. A little. Sakura had been able to drown in alcohol if not drown in a puddle. She danced and she even remembered swaying her body against the body of a random guy. She wasn't sure. At first, she thought it was Ino because of his long high ponytail, but their shade of blonde was different. Not to mention he lacked cleavage so it couldn't be Ino-pig The memories of that night were a bit hazy, but she was pretty sure they had kissed and not just a little. He was a good kisser. That's all she could remember.

That and that the palms of his hands are tattooed. She remembered because he had a rather original tattoo and he had made a dubious joke about ninjas. That if he was one, he would have had a Jutsu with three tongues and would know where to place each one on her body. Sakura remembered giggling, probably because she was too drunk to care about his inappropriate joke.

Days passed and Itachi had managed to intercept her. He knew her schedule well enough, but Sakura had managed to slip away before she felt like crying. The conversation he had tried to have with her still hurt when she thought about it.

He had waited for her in the hallway and called out to her when he spotted her. She remembered turning her head and when his eyes had met hers, her heart stopped. He wasn't supposed to do that to her. She couldn't feel this way. Itachi was not hers.

“Sakura, About Izumi...”

No. No. NO. Please no. She felt the familiar burn behind her eyelids. The one that told her she was going to cry if she didn't run away right away. She interrupted him, taking it upon herself to smile at him, her voice a little too cheerful to be genuine.

“I'm happy for you! For both of you, I mean. You deserve to be happy and Izumi is a good girl. You two are the perfect match.”

“Really, Sakura?” snorted her inner voice.

At this point, she might as well give him the address of her florist so he can buy Izumi some flowers.

Itachi pursed his lips, his pretty lips... She wondered what his lips tasted like, were they soft?

I'll ask Izumi when we have a girls' night out. Sakura shook her head, dismissing her stupid thoughts. She wasn't going to ask anyone anything. She wasn't a masochist.

“It's not...”

“Oh! Sorry! I have to go! Naruto and Sasuke are waiting for me! I promised to join them! And you know your brother, he's grumpy when you make him wait! Ok? Ok! Bye!”

Sakura had almost run towards the exit and she didn't notice the expression on Itachi's face or that behind him, a little further away was Naruto and Sasuke leaning against the railings. He had noticed it because Naruto had just yelled some nonsense to his brother and his brother had hit him on the head to shut him up. And even without that, his ugly orange shirt made him noticeable in the crowd. So now he knew for sure that Sakura was avoiding him and that she wasn't even good at making up a good lie when she was panicked or caught off guard.

***

“She's avoiding us.”

Shisui snorted at him.

“No, she's avoiding YOU. She's still talking to me as far as I'm concerned. We shared some dango yesterday.”

“What?”

“Dango. You know that pastry you're fond of? With the green, pink and...”

“Not that, idiot. She’s not avoiding you?”

Shisui looked at his little cousin and sighed. This whole thing was going to give him a headache.

“Well no, she texts me back even when I send eggplant emojis.”

Itachi glared at him. He was only concerned because Sakura was still seeing and talking to his cousin on a daily basis while she had been avoiding him for the past two weeks and running away when he tried to work things out. He didn't like that.

“Why?”

“Dunno, maybe she likes my eggplant.” replied Shisui teasingly. He knew he was walking a tightrope, but the risk of being killed was worth it if it would provoke a reaction from his beloved cousin. Itachi did not disappoint him as he glared at him and if chakra existed, he was sure he would sense his best friend's killing intent.

“For a guy who's supposed to be a genius, you're pretty dumb.”

“Excuse me?”

Shisui raised his hands to soothe the murderous glint in Itachi's eyes. Geez, did he have to spell it out for him? And he was the one being called a fool? Go figure.

“She's not avoiding me because she has no reason to. Sadly for her, I'm not the one she's in love with. I mean, she must be a little messed up if it's you she likes best.”

Itachi looked at him flatly. He didn't have anything to prove so he wasn't going to react to his childishness. What did interest him however was Shisui's words about Sakura's feelings. He frowned, an unpleasant ache in his heart.

“What? You expect me to believe that you haven't noticed how awkward she can be when you're around? Please, Itachi! Last time she almost told you you had a nice ass.”

At his words, he turned sharply to his cousin who had a smug look on his face. He didn't like it. That meant... He narrowed his eyes.

“How long have you been spying on us, Shisui?” Itachi asked in an annoyed tone.

The Uchiha smirked.

“I wasn't spying. I was just watching two weasels dancing around each other. Have you ever watched a wildlife documentary about courtship display ?”

Itachi stared at him flatly for a long moment. He didn't believe his cousin's bullshit anymore. Shisui loved to gossip and thought he was a genius matchmaker when in truth, all his attempts to coach other men to seduce women ended in harassment complaints.

“It doesn't matter now anyway. I think she's seeing someone.”

“Sakura? our Sakura? What makes you say that?”

Itachi's gaze drifted away, thinking back to that man who had his hands all over her. It wasn't a pleasant feeling. At all.

“Last Friday night Sasuke called me to come and pick him up. He was out with Naruto and their friends. He was too drunk to drive, they all were, so he asked me to pick them up. As I walked into Katon's bar I saw Sakura kissing that guy. You know the tall blond guy with the ponytail who yells 'explosion' every time he smashes birthday balloons?”

“Um, the guy who’s studying art? Deidara?”

Itachi nodded, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the memory of his mouth on sakura's. Shisui suppressed his laughter, watching the obvious jealousy his cousin felt. Well, to be honest, it wasn't that obvious. Shisui only noticed it because he knew Itachi like the back of his hand.

“I'm sure it's nothing. You said they were all drunk. She did what all heartbroken girls do. She went out to have fun and forget that she was hurting. Flirting with a stranger while drunk is part of the game.”

“Or perhaps it's her boyfriend.”

“Don't be ridiculous. You told me she looked livid when she left. She saw you kissing Izumi.”

“It was Izumi who kissed me.” corrected Itachi.

“You didn't push her away.”

“I was too surprised to react and before I could do anything Sakura showed up.”

“You know Izumi has had feelings for you since we were like ten years old though. You guys dated in ninth grade, right?”

“It only lasted a year and a half. I realized that I didn't love her like that. I liked her a lot, but it wasn't enough. Something was missing.”

A sly smirk appeared on Shisui's lips. He remembered that time and his cousin wasn’t totally honest about the real reason behind the failure of his relationship. When a situation is viewed from an external perspective, it’s easier to be objective which is why shisui knew better.

“Actually you broke up with her when you found out that Sakura was dating Sasori. It had already been over a year when you found out. You should be more aware of your feelings and your surroundings, little cousin.”

“I still don't know what she saw in him back then.”

“Believe it or not, but I've heard that Sasori knows how to treat a woman. He's just adamant about punctuality. I remember that day when Sakura called totally freaked out because she was going to be late and she knew Sasori was ready to cancel their date.”

The older Uchiha clasped his hands together and fluttered his eyelashes like an enamored schoolgirl as he sighed like a young teenager pining for her prince charming.

“Oh, to be young and in love!”

Itachi pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperated by his cousin's antics, but he especially hated that anecdote. He had been a hormonal teenager back then, but after that, he had become more sullen than he usually was.

“I didn't ask.”

“I noticed. You'd already be with your beloved if you had.”

“You only hear what you want to hear, don't you, Shisui ?” he asked dryly.

“Yeeep’ ”

“Hn.”

“Doesn't mean I'm wrong, though."

Itachi sighed, weary. This whole thing was going to give him a headache. He hadn't expected Izumi to still have feelings for him. She wanted to try again now that they had grown up. She thought they might have been a little young at the time, but that was irrelevant. When it's true love, you know it. You can't explain it.

He had loved Izumi, but he only understood the real meaning of that word with Sakura. And now his Sakura — no, she wasn't his — was somewhere out there probably kissing that Deidara. He couldn't expect Sakura to listen to him, nor could he order her to. In fact, he could, but it would be counterproductive.

He didn't know Sakura was interested in him. He had dismissed her attempts at flirting as clumsiness. After all, Sakura had always been a bit clumsy. He became fully aware of her feelings when he recognized that broken look in her eyes, even though she had tried to hide it. It was the same look he had seen in the mirror 4 years ago when he found out that Sasori was Sakura's boyfriend.

He closed his eyes, resting his head against his pillow. He felt tired, sad, and a little desperate about the whole situation if he was honest with himself. He didn't know what to do to make her listen to him, to make her understand that nothing was going on with Izumi. He had been frank with the brunette about it. It was the right thing to do. He loved another woman after all.

“...Chi... Itachi! Are you listening to me?!”

“No. Your voice is drowned out by the agonized cries of my soul.”

“Alright, that’s enough, Charles Baudelaire. Man up. Why don't you go recite your poetry to your girlfriend? I'm sure she'll love it.”

“She's not my girlfriend.” Yet.

“Go get her, Itachi. And stop moping around. You're getting too old to play the angsty teenager.”

“ I'm not moping."

“ Sure, whatever you say.”

***

Sakura was studying in the library. She had an assignment to do and had to concentrate without getting distracted. She was surrounded by books, her MacBook, and a notepad. There were also some stabilos and pens scattered on the table. This assignment had put Itachi out of her mind, well not really, but Sakura liked to live in denial. She didn't know when she'd move on, but she was trying. Nothing good would come of this if she kept pining for a man who was already taken. She'll have no part of it, thank you very much.

Sakura rubbed her eyes and let her gaze wander over the other students for a moment. The sun had been down for a little while now. She had been there for hours. At first, she hadn't been alone, Shikamaru, Chôji, and Temari had kept her company. Temari was working on an essay, Shikamaru was sleeping with his arms crossed on the table and Choji was eating his potato chips.

Later, when they left, it was Ino-pig who joined her with Sai. She'd wanted to convince Sakura to take a break and go to the smoothie bar. She needed a smoothie but she declined, too busy. They didn't stay more than fifteen minutes before leaving. Sakura could be very stubborn when she wanted to be.

Then came Sasuke and Naruto. They had stayed longer than the others, but they ended up being kicked out of the library because Naruto was laughing too loudly. They'd agreed to meet later, but Sakura would probably be too tired so she suggested the next day instead.

She had felt Sasuke's gaze on her. He has noticed a change in her behavior over the past couple of weeks. She wouldn't be surprised if he knew. Uchiha Sasuke was a surprisingly perceptive guy. He just didn't meddle in other people's business, but he often watched like a hawk.

She'd rather not have this conversation with him. What would she say to him anyway? “Hi, Sasuke! Did you watch the third episode of House Of the Dragon? Oh, by the way, I'm in love with your brother and I want to ride his dick until he passes out.” She snorted. As if. She still values her life, thank you very much. Dying murdered by her childhood friend wasn’t on the agenda.

Anyway, Izumi was probably already taking care of it. She felt a twinge of sadness at the thought and closed her eyes.

Would this annoying pain ever go away? If only Itachi was ugly but of course, he had to put her through hell with his heavenly beauty. Who had such thick and long eyelashes anyway? Or such silky hair? A mouth so tempting? A body so... No. Naughty, naughty, Sakura! She mentally slapped herself, yet it did nothing to assuage the heat rising within her core.

“Sakura ?”

Here he comes. The bane of her existence.

The man who occupied all her thoughts. Prettier than ever. Looking serious and... Wait. Why was he staring at her like that? The tension between them became palpable. Surely this is what happens when a friend avoids you for weeks.

“Itachi. What are you doing here?”

He gave her a look as if to say: “Are you for real? What’d you think a library is for, silly?”

Sakura felt her face heat up. So God really did hate her. Perhaps she was a foolish girl after all.

“Riiight.”

A more awkward silence settled down on them. She now was getting very uncomfortable. Sakura had to control herself to stay still in her chair and under his piercing gaze.

“Well if that's all...”

“We need to talk.”

That surprised her, but she quickly regained her composure.

“About what?”

His mouth set in a grim line. Uh-oh. Itachi is not happy. Good. That makes two of us. She wasn't thrilled that he was dating someone else, but did she make a scene about it? NO. Because she was a selfless woman and she wanted him to be happy even if it wasn't with her.

“ Sasuke told me you were dating Deidara.”

Sakura scoffed. This time she knew he was lying. Not because it showed on his face. His expression was blank. It was his voice that gave him away, specifically his wary tone. Besides, it was unlikely that his brother had said anything to him. Sasuke didn't meddle in other people's business, and he was too stoned to remember what they had done last Friday night.

“No, he didn't. Sasuke was too drunk, he didn't even remember calling you to take him home.”

He narrowed his eyes at her in a glare, sending shivers down Sakura's spine. His already sour mood seemed to darken.

“So you don't deny it?”

She raised her eyebrow at him, and tilted her head slightly to one side, mimicking this habit she had noticed in Itachi countless times over the years.

“Should I?”

“I just thought friends talked about stuff like that.”

Sakura scoffed. Again.

“Really? I can't remember a time when you told me about one of your girlfriends. What? You've had so many that you can't remember their names?”

It was a low blow, she admits, but she was jealous and hurt. Give the poor girl a break! It's because of him that her heart is aching. She was trying to forget him, to move on, but seeing him now wasn't going to help.

“It was uncalled for, Sakura.” He replied with annoying calm.

“What about you? Since when do you care about who I date?”

“I told you, friends—”

“Cut the crap! What is this really about?”

If possible, Itachi's expression became even more cold and distant. She shuddered. She didn't like the way he turned off his emotions. It seemed so easy for him. It was as if he flipped a switch. Frankly, she was beginning to wonder if he wasn't a Salvatore. It would be easier for Sakura if she was able to do that. It wouldn't hurt so much at least.

“I just wanted to let you know as a good friend, that your boyfriend was making out with another girl over there.”

The way he had emphasized the words "good friend" stung. She got the message. She knows she hasn't been a good friend these past two weeks, but he couldn't understand. He hadn't seen the person he loved kiss another girl.

“What !?”

With a tilt of his head, Itachi showed her where to look. Sakura turned around and saw the blond from last Friday. It looked like he was doing some archaeological digging in the brunette's throat…Wait. Is that Kurotsuchi? She was also an exchange student, but unlike Temari, Kuro was from Iwa. She looked back at Itachi, not wanting to feel like a voyeur. She realized that he was staring at her intently. Huh. Was he expecting a hysterical reaction or something? Fine. She could give him one. Or try to anyway.

“I feel devastated.”

She wasn't.

The Uchiha stared at her. Sakura's flat tone probably hadn't helped her performance. To be fair, she was tired and had been working for hours.

“I can see that.”

“I’m internally crying. I'll probably hyperventilate and go into hypoglycemia even though I'm not diabetic, but Deidara hurt me so much that my blood sugar is low now.”

“I don't think diabetes works that way, Sakura.”

Something had changed in his demeanor, his shoulders were more relaxed and his eyes glinted with amusement and mischief. What the hell !? Sakura frowned.

“Nobody likes a know-it-all, Itachi.”

“You’d know about that.”

Sakura glared at him.

“What's that supposed to mean!?”

Itachi tilted his pretty head but didn't even bother to answer. He just stood there, watching her like a creep - a hot creep. His silence was getting on Sakura's nerves and she finally snapped.

“What ?!”

“I didn't say anything.”

Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him and he had the sense that she was analyzing him now, looking for hidden meanings. Sakura folded her arms across her chest, unconsciously protecting her heart from the intensity of his gaze, shielding it from him. Her heart was beating so fast that she wondered if Itachi could hear it.

“You don't need to. So, what's this about?"

“Maybe I'm just in a good mood.”

She snorted.

“Or you’re just lunatic. When you came in you looked like you were ready to wipe out a country.”

“ I thought we had already established that I am a pacifist, Sakura.”

“Did you win the lottery or something? Because that's the only thing that could explain the delighted look on your face.”

He huffed out an amused sound.

“There's something I'd like to win, but its value is priceless.”

His eyes looked straight into hers. Her heartbeat quickened. What the... He didn't mean...? She let her gaze wander around, making sure it was her he was talking to and that Izumi wasn't behind her or somewhere nearby... Wait. Izumi. Anger replaced excitement. Sakura's usually warm eyes hardened into a glare. Having spent years being Sasuke's friend had its advantages, he was good at giving cold looks to his classmates or anyone really. Itachi himself seemed surprised by this sudden change.

“What the fuck are you playing at, Itachi?”

“Sakura...”

She cut him off harshly: “Is this your way of getting back at me for avoiding you for the past two weeks?”

He seemed genuinely offended now.

“Of course no—”

“That's cruel. And not just to me, but to Izumi. Do you even remember her? A pretty brunette. The same one you kissed under a tree. Your girlfriend. My friend.”

Now that Sakura had snapped, she wasn’t going to stop. She continued without even paying attention to what Itachi might say or to prying ears:

“Maybe I was wrong to ignore you, but that's no reason to act that way. You say we're friends, but do friends do this? You say we're friends and yet you're trying to… to what exactly? Is this supposed to be flirting? You have a girlfriend for God's sake !”

Sakura shook her head before letting out a humorless laugh. She stood up and began to quickly gather her things into her backpack. She had been wrong, in fact, that was what hurt the most. Even seeing Itachi kiss another girl had hurt less. It was worse now because he was giving her false hope. The possibility of a "what if?"

She could feel her eyes burning with unshed tears. She really needed to stop crying. At this point, with all the tears she was shedding, she was more of a tap than a human, and yet that didn't stop her from continuing her rant in front of a speechless Itachi. He could feel the panic rising in him. Oh, God. Nothing was going as planned.

“You know, I thought you were different. Part of me still does. The most naive part for sure. The same part that was stupid enough to fall in love with you. Let's be honest, Itachi, we're not the kind of friends who talk about their dates. I, I don't even think we were really friends to begin with. Maybe at first, when we were kids and you were helping me make sandcastles. But now? None of my friends would have been so cruel. I don't even want to be your friend anymore. I don't want to be your friend.”

Sakura's pain echoed so deeply in Itachi's heart that he might as well have been the one breaking into pieces. He'd never seen Sakura in such an emotional state. He was too stunned to say anything. Her words stung. It was like a stab in the heart. He watched helplessly. The worst part came when he heard her voice break and tears flood her cheeks. Even lost in the chaos, he found her divine. Her emotions were in their rawest form. They were intense, pure. On display for all to see and admire. This is what he had always loved about her. Her authenticity. When Sakura moved, the world moved with her. She was like a center of gravity. Like the sun. She warmed the coldest souls and enveloped them in her light. Sakura personified nature itself. Unpredictable. Sometimes calm, sometimes wild. It was easy to bask in the warmth of her smile, to find in her a safe haven.

Sakura was oblivious to Itachi's turmoil, she was unaware of his struggle and thoughts, she just wanted to run away, get it over with, and try to mend her heart when all was said and done. That’s why she couldn’t believe the next words that spewed out of her mouth ;

“Every time I look at you, it hurts. It hurts so much. I can't be your friend anymore and you can't be mine, b-because, I don't want to melt into my friends' embrace or breathe in their scent. I don't want to kiss my friends, I don't imagine a future with them. I don't dream of touching and being touched by them. Not in that way. Not in the way I dream, not in the way I long for you.

You have to understand! I didn't avoid you to hurt you! I did it to protect myself! Do you know how much it broke me to see you kissing Izumi? It took me months to decide to confess and the day I finally mustered up the courage to do it, all my hopes were destroyed. I mean, it's not like I expected you to actually share my feelings or anything! But at least I always had a little hope.

Honestly, Itachi, I've loved you for so long that it's painful for me to walk away. I’m just… so obsessed with you. Don't get me wrong, it's not an "I'd kill your parents to have you for myself" kind of obsession but more like “You’re in my head all the time, at this point, you should be paying rent.”

These two weeks were useless. I thought with time and space I would get over it, but it's not enough. It still hurts to look at you. It still hurts to hear your voice. If you could have been mute or ugly, it would have helped at least.

In the end, I think I love you a little too much. You're not easy to forg— EEP !”

Itachi moved before she even realized it. She found herself pressed against the hard outline of his body and his lips claimed hers. The passion in his kiss set her mind spinning and made her moan. She closed her eyes, feeling the man cupping her face with his warm palms, a loose strand of his hair brushing against her face.

She clung to his shirt, desperate for more. Desperate for his kisses, for his hands that moved over her curves to grab her hips. Desperate but mostly eager for his touch, for him. She'd waited so long for this moment. Sakura had never wanted anything so much in her life. And his mouth….God, his mouth. His taste, his smell, his warmth… All the questions she had about Itachi, about his kissing skills, were answered and the pink-haired girl was more than satisfied.

She couldn't think straight, and neither could he if she trusted his body's reaction. She was hot all of a sudden. She had felt desire before. But this? Itachi was on a whole other level. She could have ripped off his clothes, she wanted to. Sakura had known him almost all her life but now she wanted to know him differently, more intimately. Unfortunately, they were interrupted by wolf whistles, shocked gasps, and even by a throat clearing. The librarian who was behind the throat-clearing seemed quite irritated by the show Itachi and Sakura were putting on.

After one more kiss, they reluctantly broke apart. Sakura's lips felt swollen and tingly, and her chest was rising and falling rapidly. Her hair was slightly disheveled and her dress a little crumpled. Desire shone in her eyes, and he knew it was reflected in his. Itachi could barely catch his breath under the impact of that intense kiss.

Itachi had gotten so caught up in the moment that he'd forgotten they were in a very public place surrounded by students who were neither deaf nor blind and that they’d probably be talking about this all over the university by tomorrow.

The black-haired Uchiha fought against the blush threatening to heat his cheeks. She loved him. Haruno Sakura was in love with him. He hadn't imagined it, had he? No, he hadn't. He fixed his clothes and hair and shifted on his feet, trying to ignore the growing bulge in his pants. He told himself that his body's reactions were perfectly normal, especially when the girl he'd wanted for years was pressing her soft and delicious curves against his body.

His deep onyx gaze landed on Sakura. Damn, she was a vision. Her lips were swollen from their kisses, her silky pink hair mussed, and her dress wrinkled. She looked like a woman who had been thoroughly ravished, though, of course, she hadn't—not quite.

Itachi could easily picture her lithe, slender body against Egyptian cotton sheets.

“WHERE THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE !? We do not condone this outrageous behavior here, this is a decent place! I will report this! I want you out of here. Both of you, get out NOW !”

Sakura's face was beet red. She ignored the stares from the other students. Holy crap! What had they done? Got completely carried away, that's what. She had felt Itachi's hand make its way up her thigh and near the hem of her dress before they got interrupted. It had set her body on fire, but she was no better; she still remembered the feeling of his obliques and abs beneath her fingers and had felt him shiver under her touch.

It had clearly gotten out of hand. Sakura would rather avoid being arrested for public indecency, thank you very much. She still has a few years of school left, so she might as well not be known as the girl who almost fucked in the library.

“Omg, I’m so sorry! We got... carried away!”

Suddenly, a man's voice arose from somewhere close by, a voice that sounded strangely familiar:

“Ya think? Your panties were ready to drop, princess.”

Sakura blushed furiously, embarrassed and outraged at his inappropriate comment, but she narrowed her eyes as she recognized the voice.

“Shut up, Shisui!” She barked.

Shisui threw back his head and let out a deep throaty laugh “you’re welcome.” He said, his dark eyes glinting with amusement as if he knew something she didn't.

“Ugh. This is so embarrassing and that jackass makes it even more awkward.” she muttered under her breath, but clearly enough for Itachi to hear.

Itachi hummed in agreement, smirking. He himself was annoyed with his cousin, but he knew he wouldn't be here if the older Uchiha hadn't told him that he had to do something before it was too late.

“I apologize. We're going to ’get out of here’ as you so kindly put it and go somewhere more... private.”

The librarian was still irritated by their display of “youthful vigor” as one of her eccentric colleagues liked to call it.

“I’ll make an incident report about your misconduct.”

Itachi arched a single eyebrow, far from being bothered. He even had the nerve to scoff at her.

“Make a report about what? About a man in love who kissed the woman he loves? With all due respect, you're going to waste your time. I can name a dozen students who have done more than kissing or are currently kissing in this library. And most of them haven't even hidden well. If you'll excuse me, my girlfriend and I have a lot to talk about.”

Without backing down and with all the dignity of an Uchiha, Itachi gently grabbed the hand of a dazed Sakura. Did she hear him right? Did he just say that he was in love with her? She was feeling like she had butterflies in her stomach, and she was blushing like crazy. A stupid smile spread across Sakura’s lips. She squeezed Itachi's hand and he squeezed back. Well, it seems she has a boyfriend now. They’ll have to talk about that later though, but her response was more than obvious.

“Come, Sakura.” he said softly as he led her towards the exit when suddenly a voice came out of nowhere:

“Oh, she will!”

Itachi felt the vein on the side of his temple pulsing, his brow twitching in sheer irritation. He was going to kill Shisui. He had other cousins anyway. The fool was in the mood to say hello to Queen Elizabeth II sooner than expected, it seemed.

He had better things to do than entertain his cousin. He had to entertain Sakura. His Sakura. Nothing else mattered to him right now, and judging by the unmistakable heat in her eyes, they were on the same page.

They heard ridiculous cheers and wolf whistles as they left.

But that didn't matter to Sakura because Itachi loved her back. Uchiha Itachi had kissed her senselessly and had made her knees buckle.

Today was indeed the day.

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greatideas-badwriter · 7 months

Text

Worth The Risk: Chapter 3

AN: Mannnnnnn, Sasuke's a dick.

*Pretends it's not kinda hot* I can't wait until he gets his act together!

"Look who it is! How's it feel to be a complete and total failure?"

Sasuke shot Deidara a glare, sparing one for Hidan and Itachi, who were chuckling, too, "Shut the hell up. It's too early."

His older brother asked over the top of his coffee mug, "I heard you talked some big talk about scoring with some girl, only to come home alone last night. That's a first for you, Little Bro. What happened?"

"Probably couldn't get it up," Hidan guffawed.

"That's not what fucking happened. Shut your mouth before I bust your teeth in." The younger Uchiha was in no mood to joke around.

Sitting at the table with the others with his fresh cup of coffee, he groaned when Sasori asked, "What happened then? Did she kick you out once you were done or something?"

"Oh, shit! What if her boyfriend came home, and that's why he had to leave? Did you have to climb out a window, Dude?" Deidara hissed, blue eyes shining excitedly.

"None of that happened!"

The room was quiet momentarily before Itachi asked, "We're waiting."

Sighing defeatedly, Sasuke mumbled, feeling humiliated, "She…fell asleep before we could do anything." His voice became more quiet with each word.

It was so silent for a millisecond that a pen would've been heard if it'd dropped before chaos erupted in the form of laughter and jobs sent the Uchiha man's way.

"You're kidding! She fell asleep!"

"What happened to you, Man?"

"Wait, did she fall asleep in the middle of it, or…?"

Sasuke yelled over the noise, close to losing his patience, "She just fell asleep, okay? Now, drop it!"

The cell phone vibrated in his pocket then, and when he pulled it out, a number he didn't recognize was on the screen.

His mood perked up just slightly, 'Is it her?' Gesturing for the others to be quiet, he answered the call. Once it was through, he smirked victoriously at them, "You were saying?"

Hidan mused, lifting a brow, "I've never seen you so excited for just a phone call. Does she have golden nipples or something?"

Sasori laughed, elbowing him in the side while mumbling, "Idiot."

"He's a moron, but he's right. Since when do you give your number to some random chick from the bar? What's her name?"

Sasuke's face fell, 'Wait….She never told me, even when I asked.' Snickering, he brought his coffee to his lips, shrugging, "I don't have a clue."

Everyone laughed, but Itachi sighed afterward, shaking his head, "You're a disappointment."

Later that evening, the Uchiha man cursed under his breath while heading toward the restaurant where he was supposed to meet the pink-haired woman. 'I forgot I couldn't use my car….'

He didn't care much if she was offended by his tardiness. It's not like he was trying to date her or anything. His goal was solely to get her in bed at least once. It seemed she wasn't interested in becoming his girlfriend, either, since she wouldn't even share her name, but perhaps that was just the alcohol speaking last night. Hopefully, it was the former.

Turning the corner into the alleyway, dark eyes locked onto the woman in question. She looked cute in skinny jeans, sneakers, and an oversized sweater under her winter coat. He'd tried to imagine what style she had on his way over here. Almost all women dress the same when clubbing; she hadn't been an exception.

'I half-expected her to wear childish, girly shit.'

"Hey, I'm here. Let's go in. It's freezing."

Sasuke wasn't nervous because why would he be? He's been on over a hundred dates in his lifetime, and not one of them ended badly. There wasn't a single thing this girl could say or do that'd throw him off his game.

Those expressive green eyes turned onto him, only to fill with tears and widen as though she'd seen an axe murderer or something. She backed slowly away, dropping a bag he assumed held his shirt.

'I stand corrected. I have no idea what's going on right now.'

"What's wrong with you?" The woman flinched when he spoke as though he'd smacked her, confusing him further.

'What the fuck? Is this even the same person from last night?' She'd been warm and inviting despite her shyness. This girl was shaking in her boots, not hypothetically.

"I-I….Something came up, so I can't stay. Goodbye!"

Then, she turned and tried to leave. Sasuke's body moved independently, and he found his hand wrapped around her thin wrist. Since it was too late to take it back, he asked, "What's your problem?"

The limb in his hand was trembling, and he felt a little guilty that she was obviously terrified, but his pride wouldn't allow him to back off until he knew what was going on. His resolution almost faltered when she tried to tug away, but he kept it together, refusing to give up.

"P-Please let go. I really need to get out of here."

'Who does she think she's fooling?'

"You might be the worst liar I've ever met. At least look me in the eye. Don't be fuckin' rude." When she didn't obey, his notorious temper showed, and he ended up pushing her against the wall, towering over her, "Tell me what your problem is. It can't be that you aren't attracted to me, so what is it?"

She was crying, for whatever reason, and tried to wrestle his hand off her shoulder, but Sasuke was just too baffled. 'Seriously, what the fuck? This bitch is crazy.'

"You really don't remember me?"

"What?"

The woman tried to remove his hand again, the attempt laughable at best, "We met before last night, about a week ago at Oasis. I-I, um, I poured-" "The new girl! Fuck, I knew you looked familiar! There aren't a lot of people walking around with pink hair."

All the dots connected, why she seemed familiar and why she was staring at him like he was about to slit her throat. It was because he was seriously tempted after her little show at Oasis.

'This fuckin' slut! Did she think it was funny, acting clueless last night? Did she pretend to fall asleep to get back at me? I'll kill her.'

"Well, I got fired because of you, so if you'll kindly let go. I don't want to see your face for another second."

He couldn't believe his ears, 'Now she's trying to cop an attitude with me again! She's an idiot!'

"You think I'll let you go after what you did? I told you I'd make you regret it, didn't I?"

'I can't do anything where we are now because too many people would see. Should I knock her out and take her somewhere else, or should I just be quick about it and leave before anyone notices?'

"What did you expect? I told you to stop repeatedly, but you kept on! You're so-!" Sasuke's fingers squeezed around her throat, shutting her up. Never in his life had he been talked to by a woman like this. He didn't like it, not one bit. That said, he immediately regretted the action because it was obviously an overreaction.

Again, his ego was too large to take it back, so he continued, "Woman or not, this won't do. Should I teach you a lesson? Not only did you disrespect me, but you did it in front of others."

Suddenly, the image of the terrified woman in front of him resembled that of a scared puppy or rabbit, which confused the Uchiha man and made his guilt quadruple. He wanted to let go and apologize so bad that he almost did but forced the emotions back.

'What the hell? Why should I care if she's scared? She won't be the first one I've used to prove a point, and definitely won't be the last.' He thought that, but everything in him was screaming that what he was doing was wrong, very wrong. This emotion had never occurred to him before, and the confusion pissed him off further.

"Hey, yo, is that you, Sasuke? What's up, man!"

Hidan's irritating voice met his ears, and he turned his head to see him, Yahiko, and Konan near the restaurant entrance, 'That prick. He probably suggested coming here after hearing me on the phone with her. Nosy bastard. I oughtta kick his ass.'

Before he knew what was happening, the woman who'd introduced herself as "Sakura" slid from his grasp and took off with impressive speed in the opposite direction down the alley. He yelled after her but didn't bother chasing because he knew her phone number and address.

There was no way in hell she could escape him. Especially now that she'd made him experience these unfamiliar feelings. It was like last night when he was determined to figure out why it felt so different around her. Something about that woman was intriguing; it wasn't just her hair color.

'Just you fuckin' wait, Sakura, if that is your real name. This is far from over.'

"Was that her? Did she say something to piss you off? Did you get rejected, you sad sack of shit?" Hidan popped off question after question as the four Akatsuki members went inside to eat.

Konan's orange eyes were dull and uninterested as she looked between the two men arguing, sparing her husband a glance every once in a while as though asking why they put up with such annoying people. Yahiko just looked at the menu with his usual frown, absently turning one of his lip rings with his tongue.

Sasuke's glare snapped to his irritating friend, "You don't recognize her? Think about it. Pink hair. Green eyes. Skinny. Weirdly hot. Where have you seen that before?"

Hidan was one of the more dim-witted members of the Akatsuki, with only Tobi and occasionally Deidara being more significant idiots, so he stared with wide eyes and an expression that said there wasn't a thought behind them, "Uh…?"

Sighing, the Uchiha rubbed his temple, "That's the bitch who poured wine on me at Oasis."

Almost comically, the Jashin-worshipper exploded in surprise, "No shit?! That's crazy! And you almost fucked her, too!"

'...Honestly, I probably still would. I bet it'd be insane since we hate each other.'

Sasuke was angry that he hadn't recognized her until she admitted her deception, that she played around with him last night, and, most of all, he was overcome with rage because he only felt guilty about what just happened outside.

A waiter arrived, took everyone's order, and then disappeared. The table was silent for a long time. Hidan was texting someone with a smirk. Konan and Yahiko were always quiet anyway, and Sasuke was in deep thought, trying to understand his own emotions.

'It's because of her reaction. I know that. If she was trying to trick me, then why'd she look like that when she saw me instead of pretending like before?'

His teeth gritted, brow furthering, 'And why was she that scared? Sure, I was going to hurt her, but I wouldn't do that much. She obviously has no idea who I am, or else she wouldn't have faced me at all.'

He went over every interaction they'd had since meeting.

At Oasis, Sakura exhibited impressive patience. It took hours to make her snap. The fact that it took so long was why Sasuke kept trying. He wanted to see what it'd take to truly piss her off. That said, she was shaking when he grabbed her wrist that day, too.

Then, at the club last night, the pink-haired woman was the complete opposite. It was clear she felt comfortable dancing and flirting with him. Back at her apartment, she didn't seem hesitant or- "Your hands…. They're scary."

'What the hell is wrong with her? If she's so terrified of me, why does she keep running into me and mouthing off?' Sakura appeared to have a habit of insulting him while simultaneously shaking in terror. 'Why wouldn't she just avoid me? What's the point in pissing me off?'

The food arrived, and the man pushed his thoughts of the beautiful girl to the back of his mind because it was causing him to develop a headache.

That night, he stole his brother's car and went to Sakura's apartment, only for it to be vacant. Leaning against the counter in her tiny kitchen, he crossed his arms and looked around with a flexed jaw.

'It was easy to break in here. Does she know how dangerous it is to live alone? Surely not, or-!' He shook his head, growling annoyedly, 'What the fuck do I care if someone breaks in? I'm doing the same damn thing right now!'

Sasuke didn't even know why he came inside. It was clear she wasn't home without doing so. Even more pissed off than earlier, he left, thinking, 'That's the emptiest inhabited apartment I've ever seen.'

For the next two days, when not in classes, he monitored Sakura's house or thought about the pink-haired woman.

On Thursday night, when he returned to the house around midnight, he nodded in greeting to his brother, who was leaning against the counter sipping a beer with his phone in hand. Konan was sitting atop the dining table, her husband between her legs as they made out. Again, that type of thing was typical for Akatsuki members. No one cared or spared a second glance.

Feeling drained, Sasuke got his own beer from the fridge, wordlessly clinking it against his brothers before standing beside him and tossing his head back for a big swig.

"Still stalking that pink-haired girl?" Itachi asked, not sounding all that interested. The younger Uchiha made an affirming sound, glaring at the floor in a daze. "What's with your weird obsession? Just forget about her. It's a waste of energy."

The elder brother was the sensible one. He was also more likely to fit in with whoever he was around. He was adaptable, whereas the younger would rather force others to adapt.

In a rare, honest moment, Sasuke admitted, "She looked like she was about to faint before I said or did anything. I want to know how she managed to act so calm at the club if she can't stand to look me in the eye."

Itachi's eyes drifted over as the conversation apparently piqued his interest, "She probably didn't recognize you because she was drunk."

The two silently thought about that before the younger one shook his head, "Nah, she told me my hands are scary when we were at her place."

"Did she really say that?" Both Uchiha men turned to see Konan looking over her husband's shoulder with a glare.

They shared a confused look before facing the blue-haired woman again, Sasuke nodding.

She patted Yahiko's shoulder so he'd stop attacking her neck before rising from the table and standing before them with crossed arms, "Let me guess, she freaked out the morning after you took her home from the club."

Sasuke recalled her poor attempt to hide that she was crying when talking on the phone, nodding with a confused look, "So? She's shy. I bet she's never had a one-night stand before, and that's why."

Konan sighed, rolling her eyes, "You clueless little shit. Put it all together. She's terrified of you, says you're scary even when she's trashed, and panics at the thought of having sex."

Itachi groaned, bringing a hand to cover his eyes.

His younger brother was still lost, though, "Why's he doing that? What are you trying to say?"

Yahiko, who rarely conversed about things unrelated to the family, said monotonously, "She's saying the woman may be a previous victim of assault, you dunce."

Sasuke's blood ran cold, eyes widening as scenes of the pink-haired woman passed through his mind.

It was a strong possibility they were right, and if that was the case, he felt like the biggest piece of shit on the planet. It'd only make sense for her to lose her cool being taunted by a group of men for hours. He even grabbed her that night.

What fed his guilt the most was the scars he'd seen on her skin. That night, he thought maybe she played sports throughout school. Now, though, he should've realized no sport would cause that kind of damage.

Konan's usually bored expression morphed into something resembling empathy, "It's best to leave her alone. Even if you find her, nothing you can say will fix that kind of trauma."

Sasuke agreed in the moment, but a few hours later, as he lay in bed trying and failing to fall asleep, he rolled onto his side and stared at his phone on the nightstand. He hadn't bothered calling or texting her because it'd be useless. She'd never answer or respond.

'What if Konan's wrong?'

'….But what if she's right? I should call and try to figure out the truth. If Sakura really was…. The least I can do is apologize. If I'd known, I'd never have….' He knew it was toxic how he'd only have treated the woman respectfully if he'd known she'd been hurt in the past.

Very rarely, moments like this would happen when the Uchiha man came face to face with the fact that his lifestyle would break his late mother's heart. His dad would be ashamed to have fathered such a disappointment.

In that moment of weakness, Sasuke called Sakura.

'It's like three in the morning. She's probably not even awake-' "What do you want?"

#sasusaku fic #sasusaku fanfiction #uchiha sasuke #sasuke #sasusaku #sasuke uchiha #sakura uchiha #haruno sakura #sakura #sasuke x sakura #sakura x sasuke

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