An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 16/?
Fandom: Naruto
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke
Characters: Haruno Sakura, Uchiha Sasuke, Hatake Kakashi, Sai (Naruto), Uzumaki Naruto, Dai-nana-han | Team 7 (Naruto), Yamanaka Ino
Additional Tags: anbu au, Mutual Pining, Angst, Slow Burn, Friends With Benefits, Mission Fic, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Smut, Rough Sex, Light Dom/sub, Anbu Haruno Sakura, Anbu Uchiha Sasuke, Friends With Benefits To Lovers, sasuke's emotionally constipated, no beta we die like men, BAMF Haruno Sakura, Smut, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Panic Attacks, Trauma
Series: Part 1 of Satellite universe (ANBU Au)
Summary:
Satellite [sat-l-ahyt]
[usually as modifier] something that is separated from or on the periphery of something else but is nevertheless dependent on or controlled by it.
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It’s not a relationship, at least not in any romantic sense. Instead, they’ve settled into a kind of friends-with-benefits thing (even though their friendship is tentative and the benefits infrequent at best), a way to work out the tension and trauma that always comes with their line of work. She’s too nervous to bring up the fact that she wants it to be more than that. It hurts, she won’t deny that, but she’s loved him for a decade and a half and she’ll take whatever part of him he’s willing - or able - to give her.
---
Guyyyyyyys, I finally updated! Please enjoy Chapter 16 of Satellite after way, way, too long. I’ve missed y’all.
Summary: based on the Chance Encounters prompt “a storm is delaying our flight home and i’m afraid of thunder, please talk to me while we wait”
Fandom: Sanders’ Sides
Pairing: Analogical
Tangs/Warnings: astraphobia, Human AU, science, brief mentions of Patton and Roman
Words: 1,529
A/N: If you like my style and have a fic request, feel free to shoot me an ask! I’m open to any ship, fluff, angst, all that. I hope y’all enjoy! Fic is under the cut to save dash.
Read it on AO3
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Virgil felt himself jump as another clash of thunder sounded just beyond the glass doors. He’d hated thunder storms for as long as he could remember; they always ramped up his anxiety, despite him being 26 now and knowing that, rationally, he’s safe inside the airport he’s trapped in.
His flight had been delayed due to said storm, and he found himself regretting visiting Patton in the middle of winter. He knew how bad the weather got this time of year, and yet he just couldn’t deny those puppy dog eyes over his computer screen, begging him to visit for Thanksgiving. So now, here he was, in one of the smallest airports he’s ever seen, with heavy rain pelting the building and thunder practically shaking the glass every minute or so.
A flash of lightning lights up the windows across the hall from Virgil, and a moment later thunder claps cacophonously. Virgil can feel his body going tense, seemingly every muscle taut. He fiddles with his phone in the pocket of his hoodie, cursing himself for not charging it the night before, because it had died almost 2 hours ago when the rain had really started to pick up. So here he was, alone, no Tumblr or music to distract him. He just wanted this storm to be over already.
Logan had always found peace in the steady thrum of falling rain. Even the less rhythmic thunder and lightning soothed his mind as he was drawn into Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s world of mysteries and crime solving. Truth be told, he had been a little irked when his flight had been delayed due to the storm, but it would have been irrational to get upset over something as uncontrollable as the weather. Besides, it gave him more time to read his book before he had to be back home, back to the responsibilities of teaching and grading and just, life in general.
Thunder rattled the window behind his back as he turned the page, and he momentarily spared a thought to wonder if the window pane was loose before shrugging it off. Public buildings had to pass numerous inspections before being put to use, so he was sure the airport was structurally sound. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and pulled it out, unlocking it to read the message from his brother Roman.
hey specs, you still at the airport?
Logan rolled his eyes at the nickname - one Roman had been using since they were children - and responded.
Yes, I am. In case you weren’t aware, the storm is still unleashing it’s torrent of rain and electricity, making it unsafe for flight.
A reply comes quickly; Roman’s television must not be working.
yeah yeah i get it bookworm you know big words. just lemme know when you finally take off, okay?
Logan hums and responds quickly before putting his phone away. Will do. And while your power is out, it might benefit you to crack open a book.
He’s just about to take his own advice and continue reading when he hears something of a yelp across the hall. Curious, he looks up to find the source of the noise. A man about his age, with purple hair, jacket, and shirt is sitting as rigid as a board. Even from this distance Logan can see the tension in his frame, and when another clap of thunder causes the purple man to stiffen more (if it were possible), Logan realizes what’s going on.
Usually, he isn’t one to meddle in other people’s business, or generally be overly empathetic to those he doesn’t know, but for some reason Logan finds himself putting his bookmark in his book and standing, grabbing his suitcase and making his way over to the other man.
Virgil’s heart was fluttering in his chest, beating too quickly and turning his breathing shallow. He needed to calm down soon or he was going to have a panic attack. In front of all these people.
His face heats up when he feels more than sees someone stop to stand right beside him, and he hesitantly looks up at the stranger to see what they want, but when he opens his mouth nothing comes out. The stranger seems to take pity on him and speaks first. “Hello there, my name is Logan. I realize you may not be the type to socialize with strangers, as I’m not of the sort either, but seeing as all flights are delayed until further notice, would you mind keeping me company?” Virgil stared at Logan, trying to gauge why the hell he chose him out of an entire terminal of people. When he couldn’t see any signs of malicious intent, he nodded, still feeling as though he had a cotton ball stuck in his throat.
Logan sits down beside the anxious man, carefully folding his hands in his lap. He doesn’t know much about anxiety, or how to help someone who has it, but... If you are afraid, seek knowledge. “Storms are quite fascinating. Do you know how they are formed?” He glances at the other - Virgil, if the name on his luggage is anything to go by. Virgil just shakes his head, picking at his cuticles. He gets that clouds get a lot of water, so they let go of it in rain, and that lightning has something to do with energy, but that’s about it. Logan nods and looks out the window.
“If we are to take it back to the very beginning - or, in essence, a storms ‘conception’ - the Earth’s surface is heated on warmer days, and through conduction the Earth heats up the air just above it. Warm air, which is less dense, rises and the cooler air above it that hasn’t been effected by this conduction sinks. This process is called convection. Through this process, the hot air is taking the heat from the surface and distributing it to the upper layers of the atmosphere.
“Now, there are three types of thunderstorms; Orographic Thunderstorms, which are caused by air that is forced up by a mountain or hillside, Air Mass Thunderstorms, which are the result of localized convection in an unstable air mass, and Frontal Thunderstorms, which occur along the boundaries of fronts, such as a cold front.” Logan glances at Virgil out of the corner of his eye to see that Virgil is now looking right at him, and his breathing seems to have evened out. Good; though he’s still tense. “Now, a supercell thunderstorm, which I believe we may be experiencing, occurs when very strong updrafts are balanced by downdrafts. This allows the storm to persist for hours. In a supercell, a moist, unstable body of warm air may be forced to rise by an approaching cold front. This results in a strong, persistent updraft of warm moist air, and the air cools as it rises. The water vapor produced by these cooling temperatures condenses and forms cumulus clouds. When condensation occurs, heat is released and helps the thunderstorm grow.
“Now, lightning is formed when frozen raindrops bump into each other as they move around in the air. These collisions create an electric charge. The positive charges - or protons - form at the top of the cloud and the negative charges - or electrons - form at the bottom of the cloud. Since opposite charges attract, that causes a positive charge to build up on the ground beneath the cloud. The ground’s electrical charge concentrates around anything particularly tall, such as mountains, people, or single trees.” He sees Virgil’s eyes widen and adds, “Although, the odds of a person being struck are significantly lower if they’re in an area surrounded by many larger structures. The charge coming up from these points eventually connects with a charge reaching down from the clouds, which creates the lightning we see. Thunder is the resulting ‘sonic boom’ from the force of that energy being released.”
Virgil nods and looks out the window, seeming much more relaxed now. “How do you know so much about this stuff?” Logan smiles slightly, noting that the lightning and thunder has stopped, though it’s still raining heavily. “I am a science teacher.” Virgil looks over at the other. “Seriously?...Well, I guess I can sort of see it. You dress like a stiff.” Logan raises an eyebrow. He’s well aware that his appearance - the glasses, tucked in shirt, belt, and tie - is very stereotypical of a STEM teacher, but no one has ever pointed it out so bluntly before. “We all have our comforts. Mine happen to include dressing formally, as I’m sure yours include the color purple and large jackets.” Virgil smirks slightly, messing with his sleeve. “Whatever you say, Specs.”
Logan sighs quietly. “It’s Logan. I believe I told you that.”
“I know, I just needed an excuse to tell you my name was Virgil without making it sound awkward and forced.”
Logan hums. “I don’t suppose you like tea?” He gestures at the Starbucks on the other end of the small airport.
“Only if you let me buy.” Virgil stands, grabbing his luggage and heading in the direction of the Starbucks, Logan close behind.
A/N: Man I’m really good at bad endings.
Mama taught me to always source my research (lol not really) so here:
There's a Sanders Sides fic I read a while ago that I forgot to reblog, and I'm dying to read it again. I can't remember the title or author.
The plot is basically Virgil gets kicked out of where was living and ends up living out of a hotel. He meets Roman (i dont remember how god my memory is the worst) Roman is a single dad of Patton and Logan and offers him a place to stay while Virgil gets back on his feet. Turns out Virgil is really good with kids, and Roman's babysitter quit, so Virgil offers to do it. It's really cute and multi-chapter, the last chapter I read, Virgil and Roman made out a bunch and virgil has a daddy kink but trauma was alluded to and Virgil didnt want to go further and roman qas super understanding
I will give eternal love if y'all can help me find it again.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 2/2
Fandom: Naruto
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke
Characters: Haruno Sakura, Uchiha Sasuke, ANBU (Naruto)
Additional Tags: anbu au, Anbu Haruno Sakura, Anbu Uchiha Sasuke, Light Angst, Romance, Smut, There's Actually a Plot I Swear, Canon-Typical Violence, Rough Sex, Arguing, Making Up, Light Bondage, BAMF Haruno Sakura, Light Dom/sub, sasuke's emotionally constipated, Post-Series, Aged-Up Character(s), Hate Sex, anbu captain!sasuke, Blood, i dont even know man, it's actually very soft
Series: Part 3 of sensations, Part 2 of Satellite universe (ANBU Au)
Summary:
she notices, distractedly, that the blood on his uniform also marks his face and neck. it’s quite a lot of blood, actually. she’s pretty sure it’s hers.
“what,” he hisses, “the fuck,” he swallows audibly, “was that?”
“let it go, sasuke, it's nothing,” she tries to shrug it off, even though she’s almost completely out of chakra, her head hurts, and her upper abdomen still aches from the sword she took through the chest.
Um casamento. Uma vida juntos. Coisas inusitadas a cada dia. Casar-se é constituir uma vida a dois, com coisas boas e coisas ruins. Bem, Sasuke e Sakura vão descobrir que ter um casamento prospero e duradouro será a missão mais difícil e complexa em que eles já estiveram. Um conjunto de one-shots, two-shots contando o dia a dia do casal mais adorado. Um desafio pessoal. Espero que vocês gostem.
Sinopse: Um casamento. Uma vida juntos. Coisas inusitadas a cada dia.
Casar-se é constituir uma vida a dois, com coisas boas e coisas ruins. Bem, Sasuke e Sakura vão descobrir que ter um casamento prospero e duradouro será a missão mais difícil e complexa em que eles já estiveram.
Um conjunto de one-shots, two-shots contando o dia a dia do casal mais adorado. Um desafio pessoal. Espero que vocês gostem.
O beijo foi rápido, fugaz, mas o formigamento permaneceu nos lábios de Sakura, e assim que Sasuke tomou-lhe a mão e caminhou junto dela pelos convidados ela teve certeza absoluta de que não poderia está mais feliz que agora, sentindo a aliança dele roçar em sua pele, enquanto seu polegar brincava com a sua própria. Ela não era mais Haruno Sakura, agora era Uchiha Sakura, unidos sobre os olhos dos homens e de Deus. Tudo estava perfeito...
Sinopse: O beijo foi rápido, fugaz, mas o formigamento permaneceu nos lábios de Sakura, e assim que Sasuke tomou-lhe a mão e caminhou junto dela pelos convidados ela teve certeza absoluta de que não poderia está mais feliz que agora, sentindo a aliança dele roçar em sua pele, enquanto seu polegar brincava com a sua própria. Ela não era mais Haruno Sakura, agora era Uchiha Sakura, unidos sobre os olhos dos homens e de Deus. Tudo estava perfeito, tudo daria certo, ela acreditava nisso com todas as suas forças
Sakura era uma modelo mundialmente conhecida, não só pela sua destreza nas passarelas, mas também pelo seu talento natural em ser 'o' problema em qualquer ocasião. Quando conheceu Neji em uma tarde de outono ela teve certeza que tinha encontrado o amor da sua vida, aquela pessoal especial que faria com que tudo em sua vida mudasse e desse certo. Infelizmente, Neji não pensava da mesma forma e em menos de um ano já estava atrás de outra. Partindo...
Sinopse: Sakura era uma modelo mundialmente conhecida, não só pela sua destreza nas passarelas, mas também pelo seu talento natural em ser 'o' problema em qualquer ocasião. Quando conheceu Neji em uma tarde de outono ela teve certeza que tinha encontrado o amor da sua vida, aquela pessoal especial que faria com que tudo em sua vida mudasse e desse certo. Infelizmente, Neji não pensava da mesma forma e em menos de um ano já estava atrás de outra. Partindo o coração da pobre Haruno em vários pedaços.
No entanto esqueceram de contar um detalhe muito importante sobre Sakura, ela não era do tipo que era traida e saia como vitima da história. Afinal, ela sempre foi a causadora da discórdia, pobre Hyuuga teria que aguentar a ira flamejante da top-model mais temperamental da história.
Quanto a Sasuke, bem, é como dizem: Lugar errado, hora errada.
I heard my darling munchkin, raspberrynilla, had fallen in love with sasusaku again. And because I’ve been absent for so long, I felt like writing something in attempt to compensate. Cassie, I did tell you I would write something for that head canon of yours ♥
There are many wonders within the world to which he has traveled; that his eyes have seen. Every detail, from their rigid edges to their falls. Eons of corrosion, decades of growth and handfuls of budding potential all within his small journey of what he thought was atonement. Rivers washed away the sins of blood, whilst dead mens ashes bloomed flowers where their lifeless bodies once lay. The winds carried away a burning villages fires, whilst caves echoed of crying children, orphaned from the war.
However, regardless of how far he wandered, the one sin in which he would never accumulate enough atonement for, nor possess the will to leave, was her. The one who carried life within her hands and forgiveness within her eyes. The whispers of his name could ease his soul, whilst her warmth could hold him still. There was no darkness, nor fear within the tiny woman she was. Though small as she may be, he was hers; and her his.
And when the blanket of night would fall upon them, if he chanced to return to her, he would speak to her as he could have, but without a sound. She made him wonder how he was envisioned within her sight; how he could seem as someone worthy of the heart she lay bare before him, selfless and uncommonly giving. There was no tremor, nor flinch at the touch of his hands at the small of her back. Tiny as she may be, she was able to curl perfectly into his chest, and he over her, like a frame.
When their feelings first collided, her gentle breathing steadied his heart. Calloused, rough fingertips had nervously began drawing tenderly against the blank canvas of her back. He spoke to her this way of many things. His shortcomings; his weakness to his fears; for he would never feel worthy of her. Sometimes, he would ask if he was enough, or if he were needed to do more. Others, it was quiet apologies from haunting guilty. A heart beat was never lost afterwards. Though exiguous as she may be, her quiet whispering provided a gentle embrace of loving warmth for his mental insignificance, and strengthened him.
Years provided her with knowledge and understanding that he would never have been able to voice; insecurities he was too cowardly to say. Through her reassurance and unchanging eyes, his heart was finally able to settle within the steady beat she allowed him to live. Now his blank canvas was painted in colours of spring; of her. His sweet nothings would whisper themselves tenderly into her skin, whilst lips against the nape of her neck would chuckle at her purring content. His love would curve herself into him, and tilt her head back until her forehead would rest upon his chest, almost childishly.
Ah. Her eyes had never changed. So tender, and so very pure, exuding only life within them - and yet, only he in their reflection. Their love would be spoken in words now, or in other forms, but still speak of the love meant to be said.
Because even though Sakura was small, she was his entire being.
