Kakashi held up a hand. “We’ll pretend this never happened.”

"One has to wonder if it's all the perverts you're attracted to, or just the crazy ones.”

The dust settled slowly. Dirt coated the bodies strewn about like discarded clay dolls, clung to Naruto's skin like another layer of clothing. His blood pounded in his ears like frantic drums, and the sickly sweet metallic scent of blood hung thick in the air over the muted undertones of upturned earth. His fingers hurt from where they were clenched tight around the scrap of green fabric. He took in one choked breath, then another. Only forty seconds had passed.

Shikamaru was never napping in this particular area of the forest ever again. In fact, he might never set foot outside his apartment if given a choice and the ability to sneak quietly away without being spotted by the two high-level jounin below him. They looked to be distracted, but there was no way in hell Shikamaru was risking being caught catching them at what they were doing.

Temari couldn't bake worth shit. It was commonly known among the village that Temari wasn't exactly a girlie-girl, but before their marriage Shikamaru'd had no concept of just how much the traditional wife he would be.

Gaara's breath breezed soft against Lee's thigh. "Hold still." Lee did her best to stop moving, but it was difficult.

Gaara calls the shots; Lee gets the attention; but Sakura inevitably gets what she wants.

The first time rain and Temari’s visits coincided, she stood in Shikamaru’s garden for three hours before coming in, soaked, shivering, and grinning from ear to ear. Her clothes were plastered to her body, every curve revealed, ponytails weighed down and dark with water, dripping all over the floor of the entrance with complete disregard for the mess.