*:・゚✧ ✧゚・: *

Blanket (84)

*:・゚✧ ✧゚・: *

"It creaks."

"Sherlock Holmes, step aside. Sabaku no Temari is officially the most observant person in the universe."

She rolled her eyes.

"I could just drop this," she snapped, giving her end of the sofa a tug to prove her point.

He said nothing, not wanting to carry the bulky item of furniture up two flights of stairs alone, not that he'd be able to.

"We'll survive. It's only the third step up."

She shrugged.

"I don't like creaky stairs. They suck."

They got the the apartment and set the sofa down in the middle of the sitting room, sandwiched between boxes of their possessions, both collapsing onto it for a break.

Her head was lying in his lap and he idly brushed his hands through her light hair.

He reached into one of the boxes and extracted a soft cotton blanket to toss on top of them.

She mumbled something incoherently as she moved closer to him and nuzzled against his chest.

"We can bring in the other stuff later." he sighed, snaking his arm around her waist and holding her close to him.

She nodded in his arms and pulled the blanket higher up on her shoulder.

"nnkay..."

And so, they both enjoyed a lazy afternoon in each others' arms.

*:・゚✧ ✧゚・: *

Miracle (72)

*:・゚✧ ✧゚・: *

He used to believe that everyone got a miracle.

It could be something be as simple as finding their soulmate, or getting good grades when they most needed it.

Either way, Nara Shikamaru spent the first twenty years of his life fully believing his fantasy-like notion that there was a miracle waiting for him, and he just had to find it.

Maybe it was just around the corner. After the bend in the road.

He believed that there was one for everyone.

The sun that clung to the sky begged to differ, as it warmed the grass at his feet and sent birds chirping in spirals as they lazed overhead in their own language.

He knew that now: There weren't enough miracles to go around. He would probably never get his.

His wife never got cured. She was in a box.

He had gone to more funerals than weddings.

He had lost more friends than he could count on his two hands.

He had loved and he had lost, and he had waited.

Waited for a miracle that never came for him.

He had learnt.

Miracles don't come for everyone, and he was one of the unlucky few.

Or maybe this whole time, she'd been his.

And he was just too blind to see it when he had the chance.

*:・゚✧ ✧゚・: *

Habit (122)

*:・゚✧ ✧゚・: *

She huffed as she leaned against the wall, waiting for him.

Why did he have to be so damn slow all of the time?!

She pushed off and began walking, pacing around the shop front and wondering why on earth he was taking so long. All he needed was a pack of cigarettes, dammit!

He shuffled out (at last!) with a pack of cigarettes in one hand and a Styrofoam cup of coffee in the other.

He extended the coffee arm to her and she took it with a smile.

"You're fueling both of our addictions, is that such a good idea?"

He chuckled as he removed the plastic coating from the pack and pulled out a cigarette, placing it between his lips with that stupidly cocky smirk of his and he reached into his jeans pocket for a lighter.

Before he could bring the small flame to his cigarette, she took it from his hand and beckoned him closer. At first he scowled, clearly thinking that she was going to try take his cigarette, but when she lit the lighter, he saw that she was simply offering to light it for him.

She'd given up on telling him to quit months ago. If that's what he wanted to do, it wasn't her problem. Besides, old habits die hard and he'd been smoking since he was fifteen.

"Thanks," he mumbled as she finished lighting it.

"Any time."

They'd made it a habit to go on walks, and so she sipped at her coffee as he took a drag of his cigarette as they walked home, knowing that feeling this content with life was rare, but it happened.

So they made the most of it.

*:・゚✧ ✧゚・: *
Rug (24)

*:・゚✧ ✧゚・: *

Her footsteps were silent as they dropped slowly onto the landing rug.

His landing.

She knew he heard her, he always did. He probably sensed her arriving the moment she'd turned into the Nara estate.

She walked to the pantry on the ground floor and eventually heard his bedroom door open as he whispered something to his wife.

Something along the lines of "Give me a second."

He walked downstairs and she saw that his hair was out of its ponytail and the tips of it almost brushed his shoulders. Their eyes met as they had so many times before as he made his way towards her.

They didn't say hello.

His lips were on hers in an instant, driving her backwards against the wall. Hard enough to feel urgent but gentle enough to not be heard upstairs.

"Shika..." She whispered, knowing to keep her voice down. What they were doing was wrong on so many levels.

Even though she wanted him.

Even though his wife probably knew exactly what was happening.

Even though his son was asleep upstairs in his own room.

They'd hurry through a routine so familiar that it surprised her by feeling different each time.

He'd never fully remove her Yukata and she would only ever pull his trousers down halfway. Her hand would roam his chest from under his shirt.

Things were hurried, they had to be.

She would sink her teeth in his shoulder to keep from crying out as he had his way with her and as she would prepare to leave, she would feel an emptiness hanging between them.

An emptiness that she knew how to fill. She had the materials to do it.

She had the words, she knew the order they came in. She only lacked the courage to speak them. To fill the air with the vowels and sounds that she knew so well.

"I love you,"

And she wondered if the consonants played in his mind as he tore his gaze from hers.

"I love you,"

Instead, an empty absence of sound lingered between them.

He mightn't be alive the next time she visits.

She knows this.

That is the life of a shinobi after all.

She would turn from him casually, as though it didn't shatter her to do so.

They didn't say goodbye.

The never did.


A/N: Right.

So I have a slight issue. My other stories (as much as I like them) have just been stressing me out recently and even if I just open the document to work on them my mind goes BLANK.

I saw this 130 prompts thing and I figured I'd blow off some steam by writing some of those up. I didn't get into this with the intention of going through all 130, but it might just help to loosen me up a bit, cos o don't want to ruin any of my other stories when I'm lacking inspiration, but I hate it when I don't write for a prolonged period of time. It makes me kinda snarky.

I can't update as often either, but I still hope to have at least one update on a story per week. So yeah, please tell me what you think!

Some of these will be groups of short oneshots, others will be a single long one.

Please follow/fave/ review, you know you want to ;)

~Lee *:・゚✧ ✧゚・: *