bunny hair clip

oo3: Carnival

.oo3.
Carnival

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Sakura loves watching the fireworks at night. Sasuke loves watching her.

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She is most beautiful when she thinks no one is watching.

Her eyes glaze over watching sparks of infinite colors dance across a black canvas. Silver stars, only mere pinpricks of light dull in comparison to the festivities erupting across the lake. Next to them, children in small yukatas squeal with glee and cover their ears as each hue explodes and dissipates into nothingness. Their parents—and other couples: young, old—hold each other in loving embraces. Kisses are shared between one another. Some are tender; others are mad with chaos and unbridled passion. Yet it is love all the same.

Sasuke pays no attention to the fireworks around him. All that catches his eye is the woman next to him, dressed almost wholly with souvenirs from the carnival. A bunny hair clip she won for herself holds the normally loose ends of hair in place behind her neat bun. Bead necklaces adorn her neck, draping all the way down to her waist on flimsy string. Rings choke her slender fingers all the way up to the nail, and even those are painted with an outrageously hideous neon orange.

It is not to say that she is flawless by any means. Her eyebrows are too thin for his taste, having been plucked senselessly until they seemed almost invisible, and a few of her battle scars (beauty marks, she calls them proudly) tar her otherwise clear skin. Her feet rest in a V, like a duck’s, instead of straight together, and of course, how could he even begin to describe her hair?

But there are so many other things that overwhelm those subtle imperfections he never truly cared about in the first place. Sakura has the cutest dust of freckles around her shoulders and over her nose. They are doe brown and nearly disappear under her tan skin after she trains in the grueling sun. It gives her the appearance of a soft-spoken, fawn-like woman.

That is not the case, as many men had found out.

And then there’s her charming forehead that, although would be unappealing on others, suits her more than anything else. Tonight, she’s decorated the rest of her forehead with smaller diamonds in various hues to mimic the purple seal in the center. Sasuke wants to kiss each one of them off until only one is left.

Most of all, her hair. He hates it. More importantly, he hates that he loves something as ridiculous as pink hair, because it’s her hair. He loves the short, sharp ends that kiss her shoulders, and the waft of jasmine he smells every time she leans into him. He likes how she styles it in a new fashion every day, despite its length, and how she wears it with pride even if the Team vetoes the look.

“Sasuke-kun,” Sakura says amongst the explosion. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

Her eyes fixate on the climatic booming. She doesn’t bother to listen to Sasuke’s response, but she does take his hand in hers. His skin chafes against the dozens of rings, but he doesn’t say anything. Her hand is still warm in his.

Sasuke loves the entirety of her.

“Yeah,” Sasuke agrees, but his gaze is focused only on her. “It is.”