Writers have to get used to launching something beautiful and watching it crash a burn. They also have to learn when to let go control, when the work takes off on its own and flies farther than they even planned or imagined, to places they didn't know they knew. All makers must leave room for the acts of the spirit. But they have to work hard and carefully, and wait patiently to deserve them. - Ursula K. LeGuin
OoooO
She walked past him: Her pink hair loose and tumbling down a bare tan back; her arms falling gracefully down her curved sides, her emerald green eyes oblivious to him staring intently at her.
He looked at her: He looked at her across the streets, a deep longing in his aged eyes. He did not care how…wrong it was considered, or how taboo it was. A small sigh formed in the back of his throat.
Sakura looked up from the book stand: A small smile forming on her face as she saw Naruto's white-haired sensei at one of the fruit stands. "Jiraiya-sensei! Hey," Sakura waved at him, all too aware of his self-proclaimed status as a "super-pervert".
Jiraiya sucked in a small intake of air: An awkward grin spread across his slightly aged face as he waved back to the woman. Had she seen him staring at her? No, she had been too oblivious to the world as she looked at the medical books that the book stand had to offer. When did this little girl get so beautiful, when had she finally grown up and become the strong kunochi that drove all the young shinobi men wild?
Shaking his head he walked over to where the young woman was standing. Never had he felt like such a…pervert. Sure, he had "dated" or had "seen" woman younger than himself, but never someone as innocent as she was. A small fluttering in his stomach made him all too aware that he, Jiraiya, Konoha's self-proclaimed super-pervert; had a crush on Haruno Sakura, apprentice of the Lady Hokage.
He would find himself wondering of her whereabouts, or constantly thinking about her instead of his perverted novels that the men of Konoha were so fond of. Clicking his tongue in a slight defeat, Jiraiya looked down at the woman; her green eyes shining as she exchanged words of greeting with him.
She was young; still early in her thirties, whereas he was well into his sixties. He grimaced, not wanting to think about the thirty-seven year difference that separated him and Sakura.
Where had the little girl with short bubble-gum pink hair and large green eyes gone? When had this…woman with soft rosette colored hair and feline green eyes replaced said little girl?
Jiraiya wanted nothing more than to feel her writhing beneath him, pressed against her body; her curves molding to fit his own masculine lines. He would gaze at her from far away, imagining that; but for now, he would have to wait.
OOOoooOO
A/N: Well, this is the thing when one does not want to update on her Gaara x Sakura fic. –sigh- Trust me, it will be updated, but for now; I'll wait.
