Feb 15
Sarah van der Pols (Dutch)
Amae #136 (2025)
Soot, gouache, silk and collage on paper (59,5 x 42 cm)
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Sarah van der Pols (Dutch)
Amae #136 (2025)
Soot, gouache, silk and collage on paper (59,5 x 42 cm)
amae (ii)
pairing: cairo sweet | reader summary: cairo's actions continue to frustrate you, but when unspoken words are finally said out loud, you understand her. word count: 4619 warnings: mdni, +18 only! jumpscare: mr. miller, sexual tension, a bit of angst, jealous cairo, small reader x winnie situation, scisorring, face riding (reader receiving), language, smut in general, brief softness.
part 1 . part 2 | masterlist
Apparently, college parties were a bit different in Tennessee, which was a sweet surprise to you. Different from the ones you were used to back in your hometown, this one was hosted at the English professor’s house — you noticed as soon as you opened the front door, a picture of him with his wife near the entrance.
You raised your eyebrows when you bumped into your professor, an apologetic smile on his face.
“I didn't see you there, I'm sorry.” He touched your arm in a weak squeeze before placing his hand back in his pocket, the other holding a red mug.
“It's okay, Mr. Miller. I didn't know you would be here.”
“I always host this reading before the actual party. My wife and I will go on a weekend trip and Winnie asked if she could host a ‘small’ gathering; apparently, the house they usually go to for the party is unavailable. Beatrice left after noon. Smart decision of hers.” You laughed at his expression, knowing damn well it would be anything but small. You could tell by the faces around you that you never saw in any of his classes or readings before. They didn’t exactly fit the ‘tortured-poet’ profile “Are you joining us for the reading? It started a few minutes ago, I just came to the kitchen to get some more coffee. Cairo should start at any moment.”
At the mention of her name, you felt a bitter taste in your mouth and you took a deep breath.
A week had passed since the girl sat on your lap, kissed you, allowed you to touch her and then started acting as if nothing happened. During classes, you could feel her eyes on you, that uncomfortable feeling of being watched taking over your senses every five minutes, as if she was waiting for you to turn around and smile at her.
But you didn't. You avoided her like the plague. As soon as the class ended, you gathered your materials, plugged in your earphones and left without looking back.
Winnie complained a few times about your sudden avoidance of her and Cairo, asking non stop what had happened, if she did something that got you upset, but all you could do was apologize and say you had a lot on your mind with finals and assignments with a short deadline. It wasn't a full lie, but the girl could see the change in your expressions.
And now, all that hard work to avoid the brunette would go downhill as she was waiting a couple steps away from where you were standing, waiting for Mr. Miller's returnal so she could read what she had prepared for tonight.
“Cairo and I aren't in the best place right now, if I'm being honest. I didn't know she would be here.”
“Oh…” The man scratched his chin. “I didn't know that, I'm sorry. If there's anything I can do to help, don't hesitate in asking. I know Cairo, she can be… stubborn.”
You bit the inside of your cheeks at the statement. During your first days in Mr. Miller's class, Winnie kept you updated on the strange relationship Cairo had with your now professor; on how starstruck the young writer was at being close to someone she admires and looks up to. It was uncomfortable seeing how close he would be to her, making your stomach twist inside you with anxiety, yet there was nothing you could do as she seemed happy to be noticed by him.
When you asked about this whole situation to Cairo, trying to disguise your reactions, she told you: “he is someone I admire and I know he can help me with my writing. I look forward to our meetings as I have his attention all to myself.” You gave her a small smile that nearly made your eyes shake. Just like now.
You blinked a few times, pursing your lips together.
“We'll be fine.” You decided to answer, not truly believing in that. “But I appreciate the offering, Mr. Miller.”
“Anytime.”
“Does your wife know that soon her house will have drunk people stumbling against the walls?” You asked in an attempt to ease the sudden awkward silence.
“God, no.” He laughed.
“I’ll try to keep the glass decoration in one piece.” Once again his hand rested on your arm for a few seconds in a silent ‘thank you’ before he checked the silvery watch on his wrist.
“The reading is almost finished. Walk with me?”
Unable to deny the request, you simply nodded, walking in front of the professor as he motioned to you.
The second you arrived in the living room, your eyes landed on her like a magnet. It might be because she was standing in the improvised stage by the window, or because of the deadly stare she locked on you when you walked in with Mr. Miller by your side. If she had a laser in her eyes, you'd be a sieve by now with thick blood covering the dark wood floor.
A hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you to the corner. Winnie smiled at you, saying she saved you a seat by her side on the couch even though she wasn’t sure you'd be here for the reading. The childish side of yours screamed for you to answer her with: “if I knew she would be here, I wouldn't have come” in a very annoying voice, but you only smiled at her, squirming in the leather couch.
The room was in complete silence, waiting for the girl staring at you to start her reading. Cairo took a deep breath, licking her dry lips to start. The sun was starting to descend on the window behind her, transforming that whole scene into a beautiful portrait that your mind would keep for as long as you could remember.
“And as I witness her most intense intentions through dark eyes, with hands marking mine own peachy skin in a bruising grasp, I fall asunder above her. My body; weak, begging, pleading for her merciless touch as I watch her slam the door shut. The smell of something burning fills the walls, yet it's not the smoke that leaves my lungs, it's the fog that fills as I turn, fated to fall and fated to fail, and wish for her gaze, my resolute resistance scrawled in sand, tumbling through her open hands just as through the neck of our hourglass.
From the high, the grayness takes form; thick, lascivious, dangerous. The unsureness of faith buries words that one day I aim to say. Miserable thing, watching with tearful eyes as she leaves. The tree branches knock on the window, witnessing the whole pitiful scene engraved in my memory.”
You paid attention to every word she enunciated with a strong, determined voice, it felt like she was trying to open your skull and carve each one onto your brain matter. You felt dizzy at them, heart beating fast against your ribcage. While everyone applauded the young writer, you clenched your jaw, swallowing nothing that would help your sudden dry mouth.
Cairo smiled, the type of smile that would make anyone drop to their knees and pray for her. Winnie was excited by your side, the subtle scent of alcohol you smelled on her made you laugh. The girl was loud and, at the moment, when all eyes turned to you two, you regretted sitting by her side. From across the living room, your eyes met hers again, now sat beside Mr. Miller while he whispered something in her ear to which she smiled wide, turning to him.
As another student took over the stage, you couldn’t absorb any words that were said, disappearing into thin air. All you could focus on was Cairo’s hand occasionally touching his forearm when she leaned to say something in his ear, earning a quiet laugh from the professor, the urge to stand up and drag her away from that bothering situation, instead you walked to the kitchen in hopes to find a single drop of alcohol that would make that tension vanish from your body. Soon, Winnie joined you.
“This is so boring, my God!” She whined, sitting up on the kitchen island while eyeing you up and down in the bright light for the first time. “You’re overdressed as usual, I see.”
“Your underwear as usual, I see.” Winnie spread her legs as long as the short leather skirt allowed her to, giving you the high quality view of a lacy underwear as she takes the vodka bottle from your hands, taking a long sip, feeling the burning spreading over her chest with a satisfied hum.
“You like?”
You let out a huff, looking away. “You wish.”
“I will kiss you one day.” She said more to herself than to you, like a secret promise that escaped due to the lack of inhibition — not that she had any, even in her sober moments that word didn't exist in her vocabulary.
Shaking your head at her statement, you pulled the sleeves of your sweater, taking the half empty bottle from her hands and getting ready to prepare yourself a drink that didn’t taste like a slow death.
The reading kept on until the sun was completely set in the horizon, turning the living room into a dark scenario, lit only by the yellowish color from the table lamps. Slowly, the students started leaving while others arrived, walking in the house with bottles and bottles of alcohol, storing them in the kitchen’s fridge.
While you paid attention to the cup in your hands, wondering how long it would take for you to detach from the reality that was drowning you, you felt a bump on your shoulder.
“What is it?”
Winnie signalized with her head, making you look over your shoulder, witnessing Cairo and Mr. Miller talking near the stairwell that would lead to the second floor of the house.
“I think he wants to take her upstairs.”
“She can do whatever she wants, Winnie.” You mumbled, trying not to squeeze the cup in your hand when taking a sip. The bitterness making you frown. “Cairo is a big girl.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“What do you mean?” Turning back to her, your eyebrows sewn together in confusion.
“Because she won’t stop looking at us.” You shrugged, finishing your drink in one long sip. You felt your stomach complain at the big wave of alcohol.
“She can disappear with him for all I care.”
Winnie tilted her head, still looking at the two of them with narrowed eyes. “Oh, so I shouldn’t say they’re going upstairs and she seems pretty excited about it?”
“Yup, not a single thought about it is on my mind right now.” Grabbing the bottle again from her hands, less subtle and emptier than the first time, you poured yourself a very generous sip on your cup, drowsy smiling to Winnie when you handed over the, now completely empty, bottle.
As the minutes went by and the alcohol went in, your control over your senses were slowly losing its grip and you started to worry about Cairo against your will. Controlling the impulse to run upstairs as you weren’t drunk enough to blame on the booze, you shook your head, leaning your body against Winnie’s while the girl talked excitedly to a random boy from the football team, your mind too caught up analyzing the things the young writer said earlier to pay attention to any conversation around you.
The music wasn't loud enough as the professor still hadn't left, but you could feel every beat of it synchronized with the beat of your heart.
Your fingers found the skin of Winnie's thigh, starting to draw random lines out of boredom. Other than the girl, and Cairo, you weren't familiar with the faces that kept on surging from the front door every five minutes.
“If you keep doing that, I'll drag you upstairs too.” Black whispered, making you tilt your chin up at her.
“Maybe you should.”
Winnie was beautiful, you couldn't deny that. From the hazel eyes to the plump lips that looked so attractive at that moment, getting closer and closer, making a tingling feeling crawl over your legs like a spider. You wanted to kiss her, and you would have, if it weren't for the footsteps coming from behind you, making Black pull away. You knew it was Mr. Miller, the strong perfume making your nose burn.
The older man stood in front of you, looking at Winnie who was still seated on the marble island, an innocent glow in her eyes that almost made you laugh, but a hand wrapping around your wrist pulled you away from that situation. All you could hear as you were being dragged to the — now empty — living room was Mr. Miller asking the girl to behave and to not destroy his house or he would fail her. You laughed to yourself.
“Did you seriously allowed Mr. Miller to take me upstairs?” Cairo asked, pulling at the sleeves of your sweater like a spoiled kid when you refused to look at her, waving at the professor when he turned around to leave, leaving the house and a bunch of teenagers and new-adults unsupervised.
Your eyes were dark and your body a little soft when you stared at her, yet you still were in control of your actions, the drinks just diminished the worry of doing or saying something wrong. At that point, you didn't care about what left your mouth. You wanted to curse the young writer.
“He's our English teacher, not a serial killer.”
“He could've forced me to do something!”
“You seemed pretty excited to go with him. Now, excuse me, I'm gonna find Winnie so we can finish what we were about to start.” Before you could walk past a furious Cairo, her hand, once again, glued to your chest.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
"What the fuck is wrong with you? You blew me off, Cairo. What did you expect? That I would run after you and beg for your attention?"
"Yes!"
You let out a breathy sigh, the corner of your lips up in disbelief. "You really are so self-centered, you don't care about anyone other than yourself. You're a fucking bitch!"
"And you're dying to fuck this self-centered bitch."
"Not after Mr. Miller, thank you." You scolf sarcastically.
"He didn't fuck me, you idiot.” The hand in your chest grabbed the fabric of your sweater, pulling you down to her so she could whisper with lips nearly pressing on yours. “He wasn't you."
Her eyes softened as well as the fist that held you in place, moving it to the back of your head.
Staring at her eyes, you didn't know what to find. You didn't even know what you wanted to find. Maybe a sincere answer.
“Cairo…” You started, sighing against her lips, closing your eyes for a brief moment, trying to gather cohesive words to form a sentence. You blamed the alcohol for this pathetic lack of senses. “What do you want from me?”
“I want you to care. I want you to show how desperate you are to have me, how you crave my body in your hands.” You swallowed hard, carefully listening to the whispery confession, the soft motion of her lips grabbing your attention. Once again, you wanted to steal that small freckle from her upper lip. “I want you to burn my skin with your fingers and bruise me with your mouth. And if you really wanted me to be yours, you would've turned around, thrown me on that fucking bed and taken me.” The strong pronunciation of that last part got your body heating up, the urge in your chest spreading in your veins and mixing with the existing alcohol.
“You’re not very clear in your intentions, Cairo. You’re good at saying everything and nothing.”
Taking your hand, the writer pressed it against her chest. She took a deep breath, goosebumps covering her body at the warm feeling of having your hand touching her again.
“Can you feel that?” You nodded, letting your forehead gently fall against hers. “Do you understand now or do I have to draw it for you?”
Suddenly, your brain became fogged and you were getting lost again. You saw dark brown eyes. You felt a strong bumping in your hands. You smelled woody cologne and cinnamon. Yet, you didn't know where to go.
“I want you to draw for me.” You said, desperately trying to find the right path.
Cairo nodded her head, pulling you with her once again, but this time, with her fingers intertwined on yours and more gentle than the first time. You trailed behind, careful to not trip on the stairs as she led the both of you somewhere you didn't know, the lights were off on the second floor, making impossible for you to see anything that wasn't right in front of you.
You heard the sound of a door opening and being locked once closed. The moonlight was invading the room through the open curtains. Blinking a few times to adjust the blurred vision, you felt your body being pushed against a soft mattress and a lightweight on top of you.
“I'll draw it for you.” Cairo whispered, pressing her lips on yours in a chaste kiss. “Do you have any idea of what you do to me?” She asked while kissing down your neck, your hands squeezing her waist over the cotton fabric. You shook your head, licking your dry lips, still tasting her lip balm on them. “Here, let me show it to you.”
Cairo sat on your hips, guiding one of your hands under the white dress, in between her legs. Flashbacks returned and your heart stopped beating for a second while she moved herself on your fingertips, eyes locked on yours, a smirk surging in the darkness. When you moaned at the warmth that embraced your fingers, she did the same.
You breathed out the air that was stuck in your lungs, affected by the scene that unwrapped in front of your eyes. It was a erotic, alluring view, slowly burning itself into your brain like a polaroid. A flash of smile drew on Cairo’s face, satisfied with the reactions coming from you, with the way your eyes stared at her with a dark, flame of desire, lips parted as you struggled to breath.
The cold touch of her rings sent shivers down your spine when her hand wrapped itself around your neck, pressing the sides of it, feeling the pulsating vein under her fingertips. A sob escaping her throat when your fingers easily slipped into her, burying themselves in the warmth of her velvety walls, clenching around you, while the heel of your hand pressed against her swollen clit.
A vile glow shining in the dark brown eyes when she leaned down, squeezing the sides of neck harder as she felt the knot inside her getting tighter. That feeling of desperation growing impatient in her chest.
“Have I lost myself, or have I gained you?” You asked in a soft voice, following a steady pace with your fingers as she moved herself on you. Even when you were the one carrying her in your hands, it was hers that controlled the air in your lungs.
You’ve always seen Cairo as a spoiled girl that grew up in a big house, having all her wishes wrapped in a pretty paper waiting for her on her bed when she came home from school. But now, as she falls apart in your hands, saying your name like a sacred mantra, you saw beyond words and actions, you saw the urge to be held and cared for, like a little girl that didn’t get a hug after they wake up.
Staring at her in awe, you felt tears coming to the brim of your eyes, the squeeze cutting every small space for the air to bring you life, but you didn't care, not when you saw the vision of what heaven must be like; the curly brown hair falling over her right shoulder, the soft strands tickling the skin of your neck as she fell over you, hiding on your chest.
Coming down from her high, Cairo carried a sly smile when she looked at you. Her kiss tasted like ashes, bitter, against your tongue.
“You taste sweet.” The writer whispered in between kisses, sucking your tongue into her mouth over and over, sighing in pleasure at the fingers that slid off of her. Carefully bringing your coated fingers to your mouth, you wrapped your lips around them, being watched with full blown eyes every movement of yours.
“And you taste divine.”
It only took a millisecond for her lips to meet yours once again, the softness of the act long forgotten as she bit your lower lip, tasting the iron in her tongue with a sadistic smile at the painful cry you let out, squeezing her ass in your hands; burning the peachy skin with your fingertips. The words of her writing echoing inside your brain, spreading it on your blood flow.
“I like this sweater, you look charming in dark blue.” Her hand found the collar of it, tip of her fingers tracing the skin underneath, making the fabric itch around your neck. “Take it off.” Despite the sweet tone in her voice, you obeyed the breathy order, pulling it over your head and tossing it somewhere in the unknown bedroom. Cairo stood up, removing the brown leather boots and her own dress, the white lacey set that remained on her body making you gulp.
The writer stood in between your legs, her hands on your hair while yours held her by her waist, goosebumps all over her body as you kissed the toned abs, softly biting the skin.
Cairo looked down at you with curious eyes, the tip of her tongue trapped between her teeth, admiring the small galaxies your mouth left all over her like she was an empty canvas that needed some color. And you were doing the perfect job, painting an universe on her skin as you knelt down, bringing her underwear along with it. The writer kicked the useless cloth, putting her leg over your shoulder and hooking it behind your head; you salivated at the view of her cunt glistening in front of you.
One of her hands caressed your face with gentleness, her thumb sliding over your bottom lip before she made you open your mouth, pushing her hips closer to your lips. She was dripping on your tongue, the taste of her filling your mouth as you hummed in pleasure, licking what escaped your agape mouth.
The big brown eyes stared at you in flames, burning your skin into a bright scarlet crimson. You nudge your nose closer to her, inhaling the intoxicating smell; everything about Cairo was sweet, from her last name, to her voice that could recite the most beautiful poem by core, to the honey flavor slick that dripped from her aching hole, running down her thighs at the view of you ready to worship her, and when your tongue slid in between her folds in a long, slow lick, her head fell back and a shiver went down her spine.
Pressing your tongue flat over her hardened nub, you closed your eyes, the grip on your hair pulling you impossibly closer. You circled her clit with the tip of your tongue, drawing random patterns with precision on the sensitive nerve, earning yourself a praise that came with a smile when she looked down on you.
Moving your hands up her thigh, you squeezed the muscle, making her ride on your tongue, aggressively and delicious. The sounds escaping your open mouth reverberated all over her sensitive flesh.
Cairo was an exhibitionist, she adored having eyes on her all the time, paying attention to every admirable detail that was attached to her. And having you on your knees praying against her cunt was filthy, enticing and agonizing, that heat wave scorching her insides and melting on your tongue, and you made sure to swallow it with a gratifying smile.
You could suffocate in between her legs and it would be a heavenly death.
Kissing your way up, you brought her body closer, circling her waist as she hooked both legs around you, sliding her tongue over your shiny lips before you dropped her on the bed. Cairo was about to complain at the lack of care, but she soon shut her mouth, watching you kick your converse to the side and unbuttoning the tailored pants that hugged your curves in the right places.
Taking a deep breath, you slid the fabric down, taking your underwear with you, the shyness taking over you once you were free from any cloth covering your body; all this being watched with lustful eyes.
The young writer’s eyes pierced your soul, engraving in her brain every mole you had around your shoulders, silently choosing her favorite one to add to the list of small details of your body she loved and kept fresh in her memories, always making sure to add ‘em in her writing. It amazes her how you never noticed the importance you had in her work, you were her muse.
“Come to me.”
She didn’t have to ask twice, at the sound of her sweet voice your feet led your body closer to hers, moving according to her words, your knees sinking in the mattress only to find balance on top of her. Her hands on your back brought you closer and you fell, once again, into that piquant feeling where it felt like you were about to drown, but her lips on your neck got you breathing in fervor.
It was easy for the brunette to take control, reversing positions and sitting atop your abdomen, gripping one of your legs and casting one of hers in between them, fitting herself against you.
“Fuck, Cairo.” You mewl, closing your eyes at the aggressive way she pressed herself down, easily gliding on you. One of your hands found her thigh, squeezing the flesh until it blemished under your fingertips, moving your hips according to the pace she set. It was cruel, desperate, the dark brown eyes fluttering closed.
The bed slammed against the wall, the old wood-frame fated to snap at any moment; you didn’t care, it was impossible to focus on anything that wasn’t the girl in between your legs, rubbing herself on you with an inner desire to split you in half. You dazed at her, the angelical aura surrounding her like an armor, preventing the sins from escaping the walls of the still unknown bedroom like the squelching noises were, the lewd sounds from the both of you echoing around the hallway for anyone that dared to come closer and press their ears against the locked door.
When the impetuous climax hit you like a jolt of electricity spreading in your veins, Cairo fell on top of you, exhaustion taking over her senses as well as the tired muscles complaining from all the spasms.
The writer looked at you, tearful eyes as you soothed her bare back with an equally pleasured expression. Your bodies were weak, relying on each other at such a delicate and overwhelming moment, marked in black and blue by your hands and mouth, a greedy memory that will last. And if it ever vanishes, like the galaxies made out of bruises, all you needed to do is knock on her window.
Okay! I am struggling to figure out what to post about for Alderaan. I recently made a Ryl post where I discussed my world building and conlanging for Ryha (twi’lek). Please answer the poll for my first essay (post) on Alderaan
What topic should Teeaves Cover First?
Alderaanii (the language)
Religion and Beliefs
Traditional Clothes and Hair
Names
The Organa Family
I want to see the results!
You have ONE WEEK!
Sasuhina month is upon us guys !! 💖 And also #narutaugust 🍥😊 . Day 1 Amae "To fall in the arms of your loved one." . I'm gonna be honest, I'm not inspired by the prompt list this year, it's a bit too abstract for me. So I just decided to do what I wanted, loosely inspired by the list 😅 . Here is a little genin Au and mermaid Sasuke 🧜🏻♂️ He got stuck in a fisherman net again, and his friend Hinata is helping him out.
My very first artwork reveal, for SasuHina Month 2022, I present Amae (Rated K)...
This is my Day 1 and Day 13 submissions with the following prompts:
Day 1
Aienkien (Japanese)
“A mysterious attraction that unites two people.“
Amae (Japanese)
“To fall into the arms of your loved one.”
and
Day 13
Kyoka suigetsu (Japanese)
“Subtle and profound beauty that cannot be described in words.”
Mamihlapinatapei (Yagan)
“The wordless, meaningful look shared by two people who both desire to initiate something, but are both reluctant to do so.”
I felt like this drawing really captures all the elements from these two days but they specifically focus on a meaningful look after falling into the arms of your loved one. I hope you enjoy!
XOXO Lavender Eyed Assassin (aka LEA)
AMAE — JAPANESE
“To fall into the arms of your loved one."
TW: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH (MENTIONED), DEATH, ILLNESS UNIDENTIFIED, PTSD, INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS .
FINALLY!!! for fuck’s sake i was dying to finally post this one shot to SHM and my relieve to FINALLY post it was freeing. I’m so sorry to post this late for anyone who will read it; it is my first time as a non-native english publishing it, so i’m so sorry for thr bad writing and the error conteined here.
ALL WRITING RIGHTS RESERVED © HVUGA 2022 | DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE OR CLAIM AS YOUR OWN. | DAYSLILY TEMPLATE | SASUHINA MONTH 2022 DAY #1: AMAE ; @sasuhinamonth
Reinstating himself in Konoha was a hard task, not because of the unwelcome aurea, but because of his discernment of the things that are meant to shelter his presence in the village. It took a long time for him to become accustomed again, and yet Sasuke was aware of every little thing that could be wrong for his senses, the discomfort and guilt in Sakura’s eyes never missed his sight, even silent, Haruno spoke louder than words, and Sasuke never wanted this mission if he knew the shit will hit the fan too soon without his presence.
The Uchiha District was a ghostly scene, and he never cared enough to make it otherwise, and something inside him hoped Hinata’s presence changed his perspective from the moment she became his wife. Yet, he knew it’ll be hard, for both of them adjusting in one house. He was still learning to be more open, for her, even if means dug in traumas he wasn’t fully recovered. He licked his wounds often he cost to admit to her, the unbearable feeling of being left to lift his own and his clan honor, and she is never upset for his habits, nor his resentment. Hinata just listened to him, with his large body clearly weighted against her tiny one, she embraced him as if he was her most prized possession, and the avenger let her, because it was the feeling of belonging that kept him sane.
However, the dread culminating through the damaged walls of the district telled him another side of the story: Hinata is drowning again. Sasuke discovered six months after starting dating her, when he felt the sun gradually losing its power when laid his eyes upon her, and for the first time in years his heart was pounding again with an aching worry about another person. He didn’t like the feeling then, and does not like it now. His feet dragged him on the way to his fianceé’s apartment, knowing damn well where she would be. He got the rhythm very quick after learning more about the Hyuuga, and was accustomed to finding her hidden through books, scrolls and some med-nin studies that he was sure she readed more than twenty times. This turn was not different, but the situation has gotten worse since the last time she lost her mind.
He knocked her door with a firm stance, imaginating she would ignore him for starters, and when he was about to do it a second time, the click called his attention, and blending with the darkness there was Hinata, or the shell where she was supposed to be living. Not a word came out of her mouth while both of them stood in the doorway, their eyes analyzing inch by inch of each other. Alas, Hinata was the one who could foresee all and everybody, and Sasuke was not saved by it. Instead of coaxing her into saying something, the Uchiha only let his fingers carefully trace around her features, the promising touch was not uninvited by the Byakugan princess, never was, but her flinching didn't help him think otherwise. "I'm home."
He said those words carefully, studying her reaction through his words, and one part of him lessened the tightness around when she got softer in her eyes. "Welcome home, love" Hinata replied, but it felt off, even if she tried to sound genuine. His fiancée was not there, not yet. Slowly, she made space for him to enter her home, and even if it sounds and appears to be messy, her apartment wasn't nearly as messy as Naruto's, if anything, it was more clean than his apartment. His feet followed her without hesitation, and just stopped when they reached the kitchen, where Hinata put her kettle on the stove and adjusted her tea set before them, but the words that came after made Sasuke suddenly forget his arounds. Hinata was looking at his face, but her white eyes didn’t reach his charcoal ones. "I'm calling off the wedding."
"No." Like hell she was, Sasuke was incredulous, and he hoped his features showed this to her. Besides being a vehement statement, Sasuke knew she wouldn't do a thing like this before thinking, and that line of thoughts hurt more than his pride. The trouble in meeting his eyes standed for minutes, but he wasn't retiring, not until she gave a real answer.
"Sasuke… Please" The fragility in her voice coolled his temper, he stepped back in his weariness, but he enquired for the truth, not buying this shit Hinata pulled off. He already was forming a possible scenário, most likely with that bastard of her father, and the click of his tongue sounded more resentful, startling her. Now, Hinata met his gaze, but the regret shined through them, and the urge to do something about it consumed him.
"I am not leaving until you show me what you are saying it's true. You’re not the Hinata I fell in love with, you are not like this." He spoke forcefully, trying to resonate with her, but he regretted as soon his words came out of his mouth. Hinata still has her backbone, as it seems, her next words boiling his blood.
"That 's the thing! I'm not her anymore, she was already broken, but now is shattered! She doesn't exist anymore! I am certain that you don't want anything broken, and now-" And the final straw finally let go of his rage, upset at how little she thinks of herself, despite being the only person who was actually good.
"Bullshit, that's the best you could come up with? On me, no less?" A bitter laugh ringed in her ears, and Hinata was back in the old habits of hers, stuttering and flinching, avoiding his gaze, making Sasuke click his tongue. He needed to stop himself before doing anything impulsive, especially in this conversation. But his honesty didn’t hold back, and he think is better like this, Hinata isn’t a baby and for fuck’s sake, she knows how to hold her ground.
“I’m protecting you, that’s the reason.” The answer she spitted made him lose his guard in the argument. “I couldn’t bear to live knowing that if you stay by my side, you’re gonna be dead, and I don’t want your blood in my hands, it’s enough. I’ve had enough!” Sasuke was speechless for the first time. Not surprised or shocked, but stalled by the words, because this was the first time that Hinata being selfless hurted him. Looking at his history, he was the one who should get distance from her, but he didn’t, all because of her. He was the selfish bastard who couldn't get enough of her. Hinata was shivering, tears spilling in her cheeks already red with the effort. His stomach dropped with worry, trying to come at her, to involve his woman in his arms, but she distanced herself, her head shaking with denial. "Please, just… go."
The former nukenin let his breath out of his mouth with resignation, his hips leaning into the counter, the serious expression finally in place. Sasuke reasoned with himself quite a lot, thinking ahead of his steps as if he was breathing. It came naturally after his hard life as a genin, and after that he made a survivor instinct. Now when he needed that skill, was thrown out of the window. But all that was unnecessary, as he watched with alarm the color drain of her face and before anything, he catched the Hyuuga in his arms, securing her to not fall, and the dazed look within her eyes told what he needed to know.
“You’re— Hinata, what happened? What happened in the hospital? Fuck, how long have you been—”
“It's fine, happens every now and then. I’m literally a medic, Sasuke, I know how to take care of myself, okay? Don’t worry for noth-”
“You literally fell on my arms!”
“And it is nothing! Go rest, you came from a mission…”
“For fuck’s sake, Hinata, shut your mouth and accept this help for you. I’m not gonna to leave you in this state!” He finished the argument and carried her bride-like through her room, and carefully, he deposited her in the bed, her neck dippin’ in the pillows with ease.
“Rough day, huh?” Scathing, Sasuke returned the topic knowing she would ignore him, but the fact she lacked to care for herself… It was shocking, but not unforeseeable. Hinata was a lioness when it comes to health, but only for the others, and he tired himself out trying to make her see the problem as he, and her other friends, saw it.
Hinata remained silent, not very comfortable with him sizing her with care. After all, who is she to deserve it? Heavens, she was supposed to die but Neji thought she was worth it, that she could’ve changed the Hyuuga, but now look at her mess: she killed a child because the treatment she indicated didn’t work. Worse than that, she watched Kameko die in the same way she watched him, powerless, unworthy of everything.
Why she wasn’t courageous enough to increase her dose, but the doubt always came in moments she needed the most, to be selfish, to be an horrendous sister and end it over in a minute. What in the world did she have, for Kami’s sake? Nothing, it would lessen the burden, for sure. But why not do it?
She was a fucking coward, that’s th—
“Was it Kameko? The little boy you're watching over for quite some time?” The blunt question woke her of the numb feelings, already tired of this, of everything. “Hina. . .”
“I killed him, Sasuke, I brought that pain for him, I let him suffer—”
“Hinata, you knew the case was strong, it’s not your fault, if anything, you tried your best.” He tried to sooth her, but the soulless look she gave to him made the words stop coming.
“My best wasn’t enough.”
He caught her hand between his, his thumb caressing lightly her knuckles, the best comfort he could give to her, but he knew it would never ease. The mourn wasn’t anything but easy to face, and even along with truest people, this could turn in the wrong direction in a blink of an eye. In his last effort, he sided her on the mattress, hand in hand, the words barely a whisper. “Do you want to talk about it?”
It ringed in the room with rueness, his own torment showing off in reflection of her emotions. He didn’t count how much time both were silent in their own world, but his ears perked at her breath released with chagrin. But he listened anyway, the minimal he could do it at the time.
She was still trying to finish her tasks at the hospital, with anxiety blooming in her chest as the time passed by her and the environment. Lucky these days were calm, almost monotone, and the work for Hinata were just check-ups, and bureaucracy paperwork. The Hyuuga heir prides herself for being efficient at those times, it means she could go home early and have a little time with her soon-to-be husband. Between her position as heir of the clan and his work as special guard for the Hokage, Hinata didn’t see Sasuke as much as she wished for, even for the wedding preparations. He tries to stay longer, but the repayment (one thing both agree it’s useless) to the Village is eager to suck Sasuke’s guilt as an act of service.
Bullshit.
Being the only Uchiha alive (as far they know at the moment) turn out to be a political and hard matter to deal with, the elderly council is pressing the Hokage — Kakashi Hatake, the ex-Team 7 mentor — to do something about it even if they know the Uchiha is marrying her (her father don’t let them forget about this, always wanting the ex-nukenin in the prison and away from her). Sasuke is holding it all in his shoulders alone, dealing with every hassle existent even after his involvement with Hinata, when she asked to hold alongside with him, because it pained her how he came more hollow as the time passed, it was a huge mess itself and they didn’t think that was possible to worse the situation more. At moments like this, the raven haired man would detach from everybody, even Hinata, and doesn’t show his face for a week. He will do his work, but his loneliness will consume him little by little if no one dared to step up and help him out of the darkness.
It was Hinata’s first time dealing with his PTSD, as a survivor and veteran of the war. She knew how her trauma worked out in harsh moments, but the single time she was unprepared to deal with his, she almost faced death. Sasuke tried to kill her, unadapted to discern her presence, and when she was able to restore her force, he was already on his knees, resolute to not look into her eyes, guilty darkening his features with sorrow and regret. He made her promise to not do that anymore, but she was silent all the way, still ringing his own pain instead of hers.
“I will never be at peace with myself again if I hurt you in any way” said the Uchiha for her, but she knows deep down the punishment got stuck in his mind. He was doing this especially for Naruto and Sakura, for his regret to be wash away with real actions, even if the Team Seven were more happy to have Sasuke with them as part of their dysfunctional family, they didn’t care enough about the sentence as long he was comfortable with it and was willing to do it — Naruto tried to convince him to break out and he would come with the story of his choice to stay in the shadows. The Uzumaki would deal with the council later, after all “these moaning bitches need to be replaced with people who lived enough to understand”, his words, not hers. — but the avenger refused so many times that ‘no’ became a second language for him.
Her thoughts about seeing Sasuke early was quickly pushed in the back of her mind when Sakura’s screams were banging on her door, forcing her to move with the same despair that her friend expressed in her tone, understanding nothing until Kameko’s name jumped off Haruno’s mouth.
Please, Kami, no.
Her heart accelerates on her chest, trying to process what is happening with him, reviewing what she did wrong, what she didn’t see, what she did to him to turn his state in so little time, Sakura hot on her heels right behind her, informing the situation. His illness was having the best of him, and even if the Hyuuga stabilizes before things get out of hand, she knew she will hurt him, disabilitate Kameko for the prior study of his case was an awful idea, even if Tsunade had agreed at the time, it was her — and only her — fault. She cannot bear to lose him, not for her mistake and not for his illness.
Knowing with the palm of her hand the way, she made there in a record time, stomping at the door and already seeing TenTen and Shizune using their healing technique on the little boy, who is not responding right away, and her anxiety crawled on her lungs, difficulting her breathing, making her lips suck the air present, nothing really easing her mind. Invaded by regret, she activated her kekkei genkai, trying to look at the most damaged part to fix it. Her search lasted five seconds, before finally realizing it. Kameko was dying.
Hinata’s fingers were moving on the little boy tenketsus, liberating their points to alleviate his tensions, which closed itself, provoking his last decline. While TenTen healed his other parts, easing the pain and discomfort. Gradually his signs stabilized, leaving the four doctors breathing with discomfort for using too much chakra, but what woke Hinata of her numb state was his little hand grasped on her sleeve, two green deep eyes looking right at her soul with tired acceptance, hopeless. Not even an ounce of accusation, innocent eyes feeling all at the same time. When he finally spoke, the indigo haired woman refrained herself from speaking, to tell him to rest. It was ending soon, she would promise, please let me save you, she would beg.
“H…Hina-cha..n'' Kameko mouthed with dim light of genuine happiness, Hinata blinked back the tears on her eyes, the lump on her throat making it impossible to digest her tears, when he tried to force more words to come out of his mouth, the soft and calloused hands of the princess lingered in his face, with a ghosted affection. Hinata noticed the pale skin and his dark bags, the signs of weariness he was suffering during the treatment. Another time, his little mouth tried to communicate with Hinata, and already feeling defeated by his stubbornness, the med-nin transferred some of her chakra, her fingers caressing his chin with affection.
“I…I’ll b…e good?” He voiced, his voice so weak that Hinata barely understood for a moment and inside, her heart breaking in little pieces, and she looked up to the white roof of the room, and when she gazed with a faint little smile, Hinata didn’t had the courage to say something more than a uttered “You’re gonna be fine, my little firefly” Then, Kameko smiled back at her, believing and drinking at her tiny string of hope. It pained her as much as seeing him get hurt from his medicines.
Finally letting him rest properly before his meal, Hinata faced Shizune with a worn out expression, not daring to look into her sorry eyes, and left the room with long paces and her heart heavy with guilt. Coming to her safe space would bring some air to her thoughts, trying to resonate in solutions for him, all over again. She can’t let him have all this pain to himself. He’s nine, nine years old, she recalled with sorrow, and then other images filled her mind non-stop.
One of them was his birthday at the hospital, how Kameko was feeble, and that day was especially hard for him, but her team made a little celebration for him, for his improvement, his progress in this never ending infirmity. He was so happy the moment he offered her a piece of his cake, explaining it was “a work of the two of them”, so she needed to eat the cake too.
She cried all night long after this, knowing how much hurt he was, how he will never be able to come back normal after all the treatment. Hinata ruined his life.
She is worse than an assassin.
A few hours later, Hinata was called by Tsunade in her office, ice spreading to her spine, expecting nothing good from Sannin's lips. Reaching her door, the Hyuuga knocks three times before hearing the hoarse voice of Senju letting her enter the room. A sigh left her mouth without her permission, watching the medic with resignation and acceptance, bloodshot eyes and watery lashes inducing she already cried enough for the day.
“Tsunade-sama, you asked for me?” Her own voice wasn’t in her steady tone, but Hinata tried to bulk up before her unprofessionalism showed any more in the conversation. After years living within the Hyuugas, the Byakugan princess knew almost every emotion after analyzing their posture, however, it wasn’t like the Senju were trying to hide her emotions, with an open facade and honesty flowing through her eyes. The reason for the meeting drowned her senses right after her question, and slowly drew her breath. Her stomach finally drops with the response, and is becoming harder to not feel the shame, guilt building their way into her throat. She didn’t make it, she would lose again, and her brain couldn’t grasp the fact with lucidity.
“Dr. Hyuuga, I’m sorry for you to hear that, but Shizune notified me earlier that Kameko wasn’t responding to the medication after the episode you stabilized his vitals, and unfortunately, she reported his worsening about fifteen minutes ago.” The lump in her throat became unbearable at that point, it’s coming all over again. Tsunade attempted to ease the request behind the words, her grieving were clear after words came out of her mouth. Hinata only acknowledged her words — is useless, she knows, but now she needs it. “He was asking you, to read a story.” And she won’t deny his request, she never did.
Hinata was slowing her pace, as if not believing she was doing this. He was about to graduate at the academy, just to be taken away from a disease, one that haunts every person who knew about it. Hinata couldn't be more disappointed and angry at herself because of that, she should have searched for more ways, more paths to follow that didn't need to let go of him. He was a child, for God's sake.
Her hand grew cold, afraid of facing his sweet face, to say goodbye to his smile, his eyes, his bright personality. Everything is remembering him. And trying to rip off the band-aid already, Hinata entered his room with a small smile, her eyes forcing the light to come out to brighten his day one more time. Gazing him on bed, Hyuuga was already his point of focus, showing true affection into his green eyes. On his side there’s a book, his appearance was old and too much readed through the years, but Kameko couldn’t care less about it, drawn to its words like it was the very first time.
“You’re fulfilling your promise, a‘ight?”
“Of course, firefly, I will never forget it” He made an effort to make space for her, and gracefully Hinata sat at his side, the book in her hand ready on the page. Hinata slipped her fingers through his hair, feeling his little body fit perfectly to her side, in a one-arm-embrace. Hinata read out loud the title with an uttered voice, soothing his heart pace. “The Solitude of the Winter.”
“There’s a time when the seasons lay upon the earth, particularly to watch how their work was advancing through the months, and alongside the humans, they lived as kings and queens. Each one of the four were tamed by how they decided to treat their people. The least connected with their sprout was Winter, the god is nothing like the warm, bright and cozy companions, distancing himself off them was the best choice. He doesn’t trust his power nor his reactions to them, and it was better like this.” A little huff escaped from Kameko and Hinata rolled her eyes, playfully, understanding very well what the kid was implying. He is the god Winter now.
“Sometimes, his fellow animals — the ones who could survive the deadly coldness that revolves his powers — asked so many times what was the reason for that, but as the same amount asked, he responded with a simple “I would be the cause of their death.’” Hinata made a icy and soothed voice, representing the character, smiling a little seeing the admiration in Kameko’s eyes “and was left alone in his own habitat, the solitude being his faithful friend until the end. Deciding to live his year away from the others, the god choses a wide space in the mountains to live there and not have contact with the humans, and by choice, with the other gods. He had lived enough for six thousand years, always repeating the process. This time wasn’t different for him. Or so he thought.”
A little gasp of surprise from Kameko made Hinata fully see him at her side, his eager look faking it to make her laugh, working every time. “What happened then?”
“Oh, you see… a little fugitive ran away from home, this girl was named Hima. She didn’t know what else to do, since her parents were consumed by hunger, and she didn’t want to live with his aunt, a severe woman who didn't like her at all. Climbing the mountain was the easy part, since she was so clever that every obstacle the god Winter put on her way was dodged. She slowly makes it to the castle’s entrance, enchanted by the intricate ornaments and ice sculptures, and when she was close to entering the place, Winter descended upon him, curious of how the girl survived all of his traps.”
“She was destined to reach it. If the Fates would want her to do it, then she will do it in any way.” Kameko stated, and Hinata stilled herself to not cringe at his side, disturbed at how this brought all of her memories with simple words. How weak and affected by it she was. Him is all what she thought nowadays, even after two years passed.
déjà vu. déjà vécu. déjà éprouvé.
Already seen, already lived, already experienced.
Trying not to run off this conversation, Hinata regained her control and came back to her telling, distracting both of them with things that could hurt more than before. “Yes, but Winter thought differently at the time, feeling that this girl was like nothing from there and she doesn't belong to the misery. He tried to tell her that, so many times, it wasn’t safe for a girl like her to live there.” Told with a somber expression. Kameko rested his head on her shoulders at this moment, listening intently, his breathing calm as a breeze. Hinata knew the steps by now, just waiting for his first snore.
“And what happened, Hina-chan? What the god did?”
“Step by step, Winter guides Hima through his castle, allegedly saying it was temporary, that she won’t survive within these walls, but she didn't seem to care, already feeling much better than her aunt's home. Oh heavens, what will he do now? Nothing scares the little girl, and the ancient deity was running out of ideas. Inside him, a little sparkle flew in her heart, not wanting to give false hopes to him, to grow fond of her presence. He cannot go on with this little game, he wasn’t warm and receptive as a father, Winter never was a father. The following days were filled with attempts of her to get to know him, but he bolted through the halls with the same idea of escaping a bonfire. It was welcoming at first, but if you are not careful and are diligent enough, you get burned into the fire. He is not willing to feel this sensation through his heart again.
Although, even trying his best to avoid the human kid, Winter didn’t obtain success. Hima’s efforts to carve a place in his heart were intriguing, and worked as fine as she wanted. Now, his heart and mind battled to set a verdict, he was conflicted by his own mind and ideals. The girl was earning her stay, doing what she could and couldn’t just thanking his help during these days. She woke up early to help in the chores, and she loved to see the castle build itself during her duties, especially when the lonely Winter was together, the magic was astonishing, making the feeling of leave almost pang her chest.
Unfortunately weeks later a tragedy happened, affecting primarily the energy in the environment. With sorrow, the god fell ill because of his lack of powers, it reached the pike as time of the year passed with a fastness unknown of him. In times like this, he never felt the disease consummate him, but the arrival of the girl and the feeling blooming into his heart, he was indifferent to the change, until the day. Hima won’t let him die like this, not when the seasons need him, and then she promised him she will find a cure, a way to save him like he saved her, days ago. So the girl gathered the things she needed to reach out the god’s companions, and bid her farewell with a longing pain, not wanting to leave the king alone. During her trip, the girl helped and searched in every corner she came across, but then just when she was close to find the first goddess, the Fall — closer to the Winter, and a very good friend —, the girl was ambushed by hunters and his dogs.” At the end of her sentence, Kameko was grieving for the little girl, and Hinata brought him to her arms, and peppered light kisses in his head, comforting him with caution, not wanting to make him more sad. And then, the idea came. “Then, with a leap of faith, the little girl cried for one of the three gods to help her, she touched Winter’s name, the Summer, the queen of the sun and the breeze, descended into the ambush and liberated the little girl with a flourish, disappearing with the two of them in a safe place, and during the time Hima was there, she hurried to explain the situation, and the goddess felt all the sorrow to finally understand the meaning of this, ashamed of her lack of action regarding his long lost friend. And rushed in her thoughts, the goddess finally gathered a cure for the god, leaving her hideaway with Hima at her side.”
Surprised and taken back by the change the kunoichi did with his story, Kameko searched for her eyes, pearl in jade, and when the hope glistened through them, Hinata put a half smirk, knowing the feeling. Then, the question came with a lightning speed. “They make it in time? They did?!”
“Yes, the king was surprised, and more than that, he felt the gratitude and finally let the love flow through his fibers, his words lost between the gratitude and the feeling of being whole again. Winter’s solitude was nothing compared to his new family, he was already at home. He didn’t need anything besides these two people. And from now on, Winter happily accepted Hima and the Summer as his, and vice versa.” The little cheer coming from Kameko eased up her lump, the heaviness forgotten for a few minutes. Imperceptibly, the child opened his mouth, not suppressing the yawn that came out and Hinata chuckled softly before tucking him in her arms. Two tiny arms were tight (or as tight an ill child could hold her) around her waist, and the Hyuuga watched the rise and fall of his chest carefully, heartbeat in her fingers drumming the last song, playing alone ‘till the end of the concert, leaving the only mark he could do. And Hinata felt everything and nothing.
“For what is worth in those months, Hinata-chan, you did everything that could help. You’re a good person, an even great doctor, okay? Please, be safe.” Sakura’s words ringed through her ears, but were like air, already leaving and doing no good. But she won’t blame her friend, she will never do that, because her heart was carrying another duty: overprocess and overthink. She had done that a lot.
The worst part always came after, it wasn’t a matter of how, but when. She was familiar with the feeling haunting her what-ifs every now and then, because it was what the kunoichi of Konoha assigned for after the Great War. They cannot complain about the work, because it was a collateral effect. Death was a collateral effect. That doesn’t mean that it won’t hurt every time, because the life on their hands was counting on them to live for, to continue their days after. Hinata knew this like a mantra, living in her head and triggering bad habits she already controlled. Alas, her decline came from time to time, knowing very well where to attack, for the longest time haunting her dreams, using this as the images fill her up in the wrong times, depriving her of sleeping — it was useless, after all — and instead of searching for help for herself, she did the other way around: living in the hospital, trading every shift Ino, Sakura or TenTen was willing to give to have some rest. It was the only time she could take her mind off everything, and if that improves her effect on the life of her patients, she gladly does it.
The Byakugan Princess didn’t feel proud of this, but it is a good thing she was still there to help. So many people were needing this, even if her heart sank at the some cases given to her — helpless cases, like Kameko’s —, Hinata tried to put a smile on her face, to endure courage on some of her patients, principly the children. They were in her area of specialization, whose mostly light cases, but the minor parts of the same cases evolve to graves, and she proceeds along with Sakura, being the head of operation. It becomes the problem here, when she has to look in those bright faces and after that, crush their little faith with the results.
Hinata was never ready to say goodbye to such young faces, after some time, fighting their battles became harder, with zero results or solutions, her despair led her to dark places, and a break is required, but does little to her peace of mind. It wasn’t enough, she wasn’t trying harder enough, even if Tsunade recognizes her efforts to new paths. She wasn’t saving anyone, and her failure was a shame on her history.
After her last case, she burnt out as she left his room, her mind a fucked up mess. It got stuck on her heart, how easily a life slipped through her hands, when she was there to help, if she were an genius, like Neji, she would solved the case in a bat of an eye, because Neji knew everything, because Neji were logical and persistent enough to seek every recurse that existed in the Land of Fire. She didn’t bother going to work, receiving a three-days pass from Tsunade. But after this low blow, Hinata felt the duty upon her to not repeat the same mistake again. No one will die in her hands anymore.
She forgot, for three days straight, her life outside her apartment, her head between books, scrolls, and everything she found promising to her search. In seventy-two hours, her eyes never met the darkness or a good time to sleep, completely awake, and afraid to meet her dreams and see something she won’t be able to get off her mind. To see his disappointed face, and how unequal both of them were, how he wasted his life to see her fail in every aspect of her life, trying only for him.
Neji’s life was taken away by mistake and now she has to live upon his expectations, never meeting to honor his legacy. And now, along with her cousin, Kameko's weary and hopeless facade was impregnated on everything her eyes land, not trusting them to be lucid.
Well, it’s not like she wouldn’t welcome madness as an old friend.
The lump at his throat didn’t let him say all the things he wanted to say to her, because he wouldn’t know if words would be enough for her. Her fragile demeanor was back again, and his arms reached for her at the exact moment she leaned into him, trusting, as if he could save her. In his mind, Sasuke shook his head with the irony of the things. His hands were dirty with the blood of people he thought was unworthy, her — unwilling — were carrying the blood of people she couldn't save, but she did everything to do so. Finally finding his words, Sasuke made her lock her pearled eyes on his onix ones, the seriousness in his tone not leaving for nothing.
“This world doesn’t deserve someone like you, Hyuuga, that’s what I think of it. You did everything in your power, the disease got the best on that day, but it didn’t wash your effort to do so.” Hinata tried to protest, tears filling her gaze, and his thumb glided gently in her bottom lip, not wanting to hear another word. It was his time to do something to her. “Don’t you dare correct me, you know — deep down — it is true. You’re fucking amazing, Hinata. You did it every single time, you don’t need to be a hero, you saved more lives than most shinobi living on this earth, recognize this as your worth. Some people sadly will go away, but it’s not your fault, and it never will be your fault. Put this in your head, little by little if you want, but without you, many of us couldn’t make it ‘till today, be proud.”
The look in her eyes made his heart pang with anguish. Admiration was never good on him at any kind of moment, and Hinata looking at him like this didn’t help at all. If he told her about the darkness living underneath his skin, would she still look at him as she is right now? Or be with him, at some point? He was tainted, and brushing her with his guilt and sins was never an option. Sasuke tried to ignore all of this, changing the turn of the conversation where it was supposed to be. On her. And he never failed to foresee the things about Hinata.
Eyes heavy, her breathing becoming even while she was holding his waist. He knew what was coming, and smirking slightly at her, the former criminal just kissed her forehead, his lips whispering soothing at her hair. “Sleep. I'll fight the bad dreams off if they come to get you.” Hinata didn't have to be told twice.
I know that this is not the literal sense of the word… but this is what I came out with!😂
SasuHina day 1.
Amae
@sasuhinamonth