I love the moon, the way she glows through the night makes me feel safe. I love autumn, the way the leaves fall, the bright red shades that surrounds me makes me calm but then again, what im seeing is the death of life so beautiful and tragic. 🪵🦌🍂 18+ ( ◜‿◝ )♡
Being married to Tartaglia is equal parts chaos, devotion, and never knowing peace for even five minutes. He’s everywhere. Arms around your waist while you’re cooking. Dramatically collapsing onto you after missions like he hasn’t seen you in years.
Showing up covered in snow, blood, or both, grinning the second he sees you because there you are. Tartaglia loves loudly. Openly. Shamelessly. He’s constantly touching you somehow, holding your hand, tugging you into his lap, resting his chin on your shoulder. If anyone complains about PDA, he gets worse on purpose.
“C’mon, spouse, they’re just jealous.”
He’d absolutely brag about you too. To the Fatui. To random strangers. To his siblings. To enemies. Especially his siblings. Teucer grows up fully convinced you and Tartaglia are the greatest love story in Teyvat because Ajax talks about you like you hung the stars yourself and despite all the teasing and reckless energy, Tartaglia is terrifyingly sincere when it comes to protecting the people he loves.
You become his home. The one thing that can calm him after battle. There are nights he comes back restless, adrenaline still burning under his skin, unable to settle after fighting for hours, and the second you pull him close, he just exhales against you like he can finally breathe again.
He trusts very few people completely. But he trusts you. Enough to let you see the exhaustion underneath the smile. Enough to admit when he’s afraid. Enough to let himself be gentle and that gentleness feels rare with him.
Because Tartaglia can destroy monsters without hesitation, can laugh in the middle of a fight, can walk into danger like it’s a game, but with you, he handles every vulnerable thing like it’s precious. He’d absolutely wake you up at ridiculous hours too.
“Hey. Hey, love.”
“Ajax, it’s three in the morning.”
“Look outside.”
You’d open the curtains to find him dragging you into the snow because he decided the two of you needed to have a snowball fight immediately. You lose horribly. Mostly because he cheats and underneath all the chaos, Tartaglia loves with his entire heart. Dangerously. Loyally. Completely.
The kind of love that feels like being swept away by a crashing wave and somehow knowing he’d never let you drown.
Today is Ticket Taker's birthday! Thank you all for your kindness! I've seen so many amazing fanarts and works of art! Thank you so much!
I'm a little delayed, but I finally managed to finish the additional artwork today, even though I still don't like how it turned out >.<
heeyy babs idk if you write old man Madara but maybe tryna coax him into a good ol romp? esp if his wife never aged and they're first meeting again since he "died" 🙏✌️
HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY THERE
I'm not sure if this is what you meant… I interpreted "since he died" like this (I didn’t stick to canon, naur, I bent the timeline to suit my own preferences, yetz)
As for whether or not I write about Madara… a third of my page is filled with him in all his forms xd; this man lives around here rent-free
It's not finished, but I wasn't even sure this is what you want, so it's like a first attempt, I guess
The Infinite Tsukuyomi comes to life above the battlefield. The moon cracks open, violent light pouring across the world while roots burst from the earth in monstrous waves, swallowing shinobi whole beneath bark and illusion and dreams crafted from desperation.
The idiots playing heroes scream somewhere in the distance, trying to stop a war already lost.
Madara pays no attention to them because Tobirama decides to speak: pinned beneath black rods and broken stone, reanimated paper splitting apart, he stares up at Madara with the same cold contempt he carried since they were boys standing ankle-deep in a river. Edo Tensei strips him of exhaustion, strips him of blood, of death itself, yet hatred survives intact, clinical and mean as ever.
Madara stands above him with one restored eye and enough chakra flooding through his veins to make the battlefield tremble beneath his feet.
He should kill Tobirama, end him, crush his skull into the earth, and move on toward the final stage of the plan. Instead, the fucker says her name. —She survived the kidnapping.—
Madara’s expression doesn’t move at first. Most people would mistake that stillness for indifference.
This Senju knows better.
He watches Madara’s fingers flex once at his side, watches chakra flare violently around him, watches the first crack split through the ground beneath his feet.
—She died.— Cold and immediate. That certainty lasted decades.
Tobirama almost seems amused by it. —No body was ever recovered, correct?—
Memory crashes into him before he can stop it: blood outside the main house, torn walls, soldiers screaming through the estate while he searched room after room with her name lodged somewhere behind his teeth like a prayer he refused to say aloud. Hashirama trying to speak to him afterward and failing every time Madara looked at him. The endless searching that turned into mourning after months passed with nothing found except silence.
And Izuna already dead by then.
Gone.
Buried.
Her disappearance came afterward, the final shove that sent everything inside him collapsing into rage and prophecy and madness. He lost his brother first; then his wife vanished into blood and smoke without a corpse left behind to bury.
He spent years convincing himself there had been enough blood for death.
Tobirama tears that belief apart in seconds. —You were unstable after your brother,— he says, voice untouched by guilt. —Obsessive. Violent. Hashirama wanted negotiations with your people. You wanted war. Removing her from the equation prevented further complications.—
Madara stares, no answer comes. For the first time in decades, genuine shock carves through him so deep he cannot force words past it.
—She fought when we took her,— Tobirama continues. —Killed two men before restraint became necessary. Your wife was inconveniently resilient.—
The battlefield fades. The Tsukuyomi spreads above them. Shinobi collapse beneath roots and white light. The world bends itself into illusion exactly as Madara planned it.
He no longer cares.
All those years. All those fucking years.
He built this war around ghosts, around Izuna’s death and her absence and the hatred festering inside him after both were ripped away. He clawed his way toward godhood, believing the only way to see either of them again required tearing reality apart itself.
And one half of that grief had been breathing somewhere in the world the entire time…
—She survived the experiments better than expected. The regenerative effects altered her permanently. Immortality was accidental.
Experiments.
That word is poison.
Tobirama notices and keeps speaking, because this is what he does best: dissect wounds with cold hands and watch people bleed from them. —She escaped. I never found her afterward.— His gaze sharpens. —Interesting, isn’t it? You spent long trying to destroy the world for a woman who never stopped living inside it.—
That finally drags anger back into Madara’s body. Real anger. Not the empty rage he carried through war after war, but the violent, ugly kind, that starts in the stomach and climbs upward until breathing itself feels impossible. Chakra bursts from him in suffocating waves. The broken battlefield groans beneath the pressure while Tobirama’s Edo Tensei body cracks further against stone.
Hashirama knew enough to stay silent, Tobirama kept her hidden, and Madara drowned the world trying to bring back someone who had never stopped living. A laugh almost escapes him then, harsh and humorless, because the irony feels monstrous enough to choke on. —She would hate what you became,— Tobirama says.
Madara grabs him by the hair before the sentence fully leaves his mouth. —You kept her from me…—
—War requires hard decisions.
—You tortured her.
—I used her.
The Senju’s honesty lands worse than denial ever could.
Madara stares down at him with murder written through every line of his face. For a moment, Tobirama sees it too: the realization that this war no longer matters. The Infinite Tsukuyomi no longer matters. Madara won the second he admitted she survived.
Because now he can finish the rest beside her, no illusion required.
Above them, the moon’s eye watches over a sleeping world while roots tighten around thousands of trapped bodies. Somewhere in the distance, the heroes still fight through the battlefield searching for him.
They’re too late.
By the time they reach the ruins where Tobirama lies pinned beneath black rods and shattered stone, he’s already gone.
//
The war ends beneath the Infinite Tsukuyomi’s light, the world wrapped inside roots and illusion, while thousands dream beneath white cocoons hanging from the God Tree like grotesque fruit. Villages stand abandoned, rivers flow beside empty roads, entire cities sleep without knowing it, endless bodies trapped inside bark while the moon watches overhead.
And through all of it, one thought keeps dragging him forward: if (y/n) escaped Tobirama, she would go home.
Not the Uchiha compound. Konoha. No
Her clan lands. Or what remained of them.
Madara remembers the place from another lifetime. Mountains wrapped in forests so dense sunlight barely touched the ground, rivers cold enough to numb bones, shrines hidden beneath moss and roots older than most clans themselves.
Her people vanished after their marriage, swallowed by war and time until only abandoned structures and overgrown graveyards remained.
She used to hate speaking about it, too many ghosts there.
Which means, of course, that she would return anyway; people always circle back toward their wounds.
Madara travels for weeks beneath the Infinite Tsukuyomi’s pale glow.
The world stretches empty around him while cocoons sway from trees overhead.
Once, he passes through a village where entire families remain suspended above the streets they died trying to build. Another night finds him crossing a battlefield frozen beneath roots, corpses and sleeping shinobi tangled together beneath white wood like conflict itself lost meaning halfway through.
None of it matters. They can all go to hell.
The closer he gets to her clan territory, the stranger the forests become.
Dead bark litters the ground in enormous shattered pieces. Trees torn apart from the inside. Burn marks climbing trunks blackened by fire jutsu. Madara slows for the first time then, eyes narrowing as he studies the destruction around him.
The roots reached this place, and something fought back.
A faint grin almost pulls at his mouth despite everything: of course she resisted.
The tiny house appears near dusk beside a river half-hidden by thick woods and climbing ivy. No smoke rises from the chimney, but signs of life sit everywhere once he steps closer. Fresh wood stacked beneath a covered awning, herbs hanging dry near the porch, a water bucket filled recently.
Madara stands there staring at it longer than he should.
This is real.
After decades of grief and rage and plans built around her death, reality shrinks down into something painfully ordinary: a small wooden cottage deep in forgotten woods.
She lived here. Alone.
The front door opens beneath his hand without resistance. Inside smells like cedar, herbs, old paper. Home. Not the Uchiha compound with its stone and authority and endless pressure of clan leadership. This place feels warmer, smaller, human in ways his life stopped being.
He walks through it in silence. One room. A kitchen. Books stacked near the windows. Blankets folded with precise care. Signs of one immortal life stretched across time in quiet isolation.
Then he sees the altar and his steps stop immediately.
Photographs cover almost the entire wall above a low wooden shrine worn smooth from years of use. Some so old the edges curled inward with age, others newer, preserved better. Candles burned down to wax pools beside incense bowls and faded flowers.
Her family, people Madara barely remembers from before her clan vanished. Then him, a photograph from younger years stares back at him from the center. Madara, in old armor beside her, expression severe even then, one arm around her waist while she laughs at something outside the frame. Another picture shows Izuna beside them both, smirking with his arm thrown over Madara’s shoulder.
His chest tightens violently. There are more, dozens more, tiny fragments of a life she refused to let disappear. He reaches toward one photograph before stopping halfway, fingers hovering inches from the image instead.
Because now he understands something unbearable: she mourned him too. All these years, while he drowned the world trying to bring back ghosts, she built a grave for him inside this tiny house and kept feeding the memory alive piece by piece.
The realization leaves him standing motionless in the middle of the room while dusk darkens around the windows.
Then the floor creaks behind him.
Madara turns.
And she attacks immediately.
No hesitation, shock-frozen silence, or whispered disbelief like frightened little civilians reunited after war. She spent too many decades surviving to trust ghosts standing inside her house.
A knife flashes first, straight for his throat.
Madara catches her wrist by instinct alone, eyes widening a fraction before she twists and drives her knee toward his ribs with enough force to crack bone on a normal man. He lets go to evade the hit and she uses the opening, another blade appearing from somewhere inside her sleeve before slashing toward his restored eye.
Still vicious after all these years. It almost makes him smile.
The cottage explodes into violence around them.
Wood splinters beneath chakra and impact while she tears through the room with brutal precision. Madara evades instead of retaliating, stepping around shattered furniture while she drives him backward across the house.
—Stay the fuck away from me!— She yells, raw and angry.
Madara catches another slash inches from his face. —Stop, woman!—
—You’re dead!
A table crashes apart between them.
She moves before the debris even lands, grabbing a fallen kunai from the floor and aiming straight for his heart this time. Madara twists aside, fingers brushing her wrist, but she tears free and drives him through one of the walls, splitting it open toward the forest outside.
Let her fight, he thinks. Let her scream.
After everything stolen from both of them, this feels more honest than tears ever could.
—It’s me! I’m here!— Madara snarls, dodging another strike. —I came for you, yet you greet me with a blade to the throat?—
—My husband died!
Madara sees different things written across her face beneath the rage: the years spent mourning him, burying him inside memory piece by piece until grief settled into routine. She built an entire life around his absence. A shrine, grave, a way to survive immortality without losing her mind.
And now he stands inside her house, breathing as if none of it happened.
Of course she wants to kill him for it.
She throws another weapon; Madara ducks.
The blade buries itself inside the wall behind him, beside one of the old photographs hanging crooked from the impact shaking through the house. Izuna smiles back at him from the frame. That almost derails him for a second.
She notices, and attacks harder.
The next hit catches him across the jaw, splitting skin despite his reflexes. He turns with the impact instead of resisting it, more irritated than hurt, while she grabs a broken chair leg and swings again with frightening accuracy toward his throat.
—You’re not him!
He catches the wood this time. It splinters between his fingers. —And who else knows, then,— he says, voice lowering, —that you hate mikan but still force yourself to eat them when winter comes because your mother convinced you they prevent illness?—
Fury crashes back harder than before. —Stop this madness!—
She lunges again.
Madara sidesteps, grabs her wrist, twists, forcing the weapon free from her grip. She retaliates by driving her elbow into his throat before he can pin her properly, then both slam into the kitchen wall together, cracking the beams holding the ceiling overhead.
The cottage groans around them.
—Who knows,— Madara continues over the chaos, breathing rougher now, —about the scar beneath your left breast from when you fell through river ice at thirteen?—
(Y/n) whimpers at those words.
—You cried because you thought your clan tattoos looked ruined afterward.
Her expression changes, fear starts crawling beneath the anger. He sees the exact moment she begins understanding no impostor could know these things.
No transformation jutsu, no spy, no illusion.
Him.
It’s him.
She attacks anyway; immortality and grief turned both of them monstrous in different ways.
The next strike comes reckless, from emotion, and Madara finally catches her properly. He grabs both wrists, spins, and drives her down against the ruined floorboards while the remains of the cottage shake around them.
Wood cracks beneath the impact.
She thrashes beneath him, vicious as a trapped animal, but he cages her down with sheer size and strength, knees forcing her thighs apart enough to immobilize her hips while both wrists remain pinned above her head in one hand. —You have another scar, inside your right thigh, one I did myself when trying to rip your pants with a kunai,— he says.
The fight stops.
Her breathing turns uneven beneath him.
Madara leans closer, hair falling loose around his face, while decades of grief and obsession burn through his eye almost feverishly now.
—You bite the inside of your mouth when you lie, hide weapons beneath floorboards instead of drawers because you never trusted locks, sleep facing walls whenever nightmares get bad.— His grip tightens. —And when I fucked you after battles, you always reached for my hair first before anything else.—
A horrible sound leaves her throat then.
Nobody else could know those details.
Her eyes shine with something ugly, rage collapsing inward beneath unbearable understanding. —You died,— she whispers.
The words sound smaller this time. Broken open.
Madara stares down at her pinned beneath him in the wreckage of the home she built without him, breathing hard, his chest aching.
This is not making my Madara obsession go away anytime soon, THIS IS WELL WRITTEN !!
I love the confrontation scene so much, you can feel the anger reader carries after mourning him for who knows how long...and Madara trying to prove himself is just *chef kiss*
Uchiha with their wife right after she gives birth?
I swear, anything related to these dummies as dads melts me because it's one of the few rare moments where I can write them as vulnerable. I live for it.
Indra
Indra had never known fear. He had led legions, toppled empires, carved his name into the very bones of the world, and yet—this moment undid him.
He sat beside (Y/N) with a stiffness that betrayed his discomfort, not with her, but with himself. He was a being of power, of control, and yet control had meant nothing as he had watched her body break itself open to bring forth new life. He had not fought this battle for her, could not, and that knowledge unsettled him.
His hand hovered above her, uncertain, then finally lowered to brush damp hair from her face. -Try resting now,- he murmured, but even he could hear the uselessness of the suggestion.
Still, he did not move away.
When the midwives had cleaned her, she had reached for him—not just in exhaustion, but in expectation. And Indra, for the first time, did not disappoint. He had taken a cloth, warm and damp, and wiped the sweat from her skin. He had pulled the blanket higher over her shoulders. When her throat had been too dry to speak, he had lifted a cup to her lips, his fingers steady despite the unfamiliarity of the act.
Now, as she cradled their child, Indra found himself at war with something he could not name. His hands, hands that had torn kingdoms asunder, curled into fists at his sides.
-Hold them,- she whispered.
Indra hesitated. The child was so… small. His entire existence had been carved from might, from standing above all others, and yet here was something so fragile it made his breath catch. And when he finally took the newborn into his arms, adjusting with careful precision, something in him—something ancient, something long-forgotten—softened.
(Y/N) watched him, smiling. -You’re doing fine.-
Indra did not reply. He merely held his child, unblinking, as if memorizing every detail. And when (Y/N) finally drifted into exhausted sleep, he did not set the child down. He remained where he was, holding them as though the world itself depended on it.
Madara
Madara had seen her bleed before.
Battle wounds. Training injuries. Superficial cuts that had once been no more than a passing inconvenience. But this—this had been different.
(Y/N) had gritted her teeth through the pain, had clutched his hand when the worst of it came, and Madara had felt useless. Power could not ease her suffering, could not lessen her burden, and it had infuriated him.
Now, the battle was over, but the exhaustion in her limbs, the deep ache settling into her bones—that, he could help with.
He sat beside her, their newborn resting between them, and with slow, deliberate care, he reached for her hand. -Time to eat.-
Like any great warrior, Madara prepared for this battle before it even began, ensuring that (Y/N) wouldn’t have to worry about anything at all. Food was ready, only needing to be heated—prepared exclusively by him the night before the birth, too nervous to lie down and rest while his wife began to dilate.
Warm broth, rice, something easy on her stomach. Not much, but enough.
She gave him a tired smile. -Did you make this yourself?-
Madara huffed. -Do you think I can’t?- But he still lifted the spoon, bringing it to her lips with patience few had ever seen from him.
Between quiet bites, her gaze softened. -You’re not looking at me.-
Because he wasn’t. He was staring at the child—their child—who lay swaddled in soft fabric, their tiny face relaxed in sleep. It was as if he couldn’t stop staring.
(Y/N) exhaled, amused. -Madara.-
-I was afraid,- he admitted. It was not something he had ever said aloud.
She squeezed his hand. -I know.-
He finally looked at her then, and when she reached for their child, he helped her, adjusting their swaddle with careful precision. His hands, so accustomed to wielding weapons, now protected something infinitely more precious.
-Sleep,- he told her, pressing a rare, lingering kiss to her temple. -I’ll be here when you wake.-
Izuna
Izuna paced. He couldn’t help it. His body still buzzed with restless energy, as if he needed to fight something, someone—except the battle was over, and the only thing before him was a future he hadn’t quite figured out how to hold.
-You’re making me dizzy,- (Y/N) murmured, voice hoarse but amused.
Izuna stopped immediately. -Sorry.-
He was at her side instantly, slipping onto the bedding without a care for propriety. -How are you feeling?-
-Like I had a child.-
-Ah.- He grinned. -Fair.-
Then his gaze fell to the bundle in her arms, and for once, Izuna was silent.
(Y/N) watched him, then reached for his wrist, pulling him forward. -Hold them.-
-I— He hesitated. Izuna Uchiha, hesitant? It was absurd.
-You’re not going to break them,- she teased.
He shot her a look. -Not so sure about that.- But still, he let her guide his hands, adjusting until the baby settled against his chest.
A deep breath. His arms tightened instinctively.
-Oh, you’re so tiny,- he whispered, his usual teasing edge softened by awe. Then, grinning, he glanced at (Y/N). -You sure they’re mine? They're not screaming or using special eyes to win over daddy.—
She laughed, exhausted but delighted. -Give them time.-
Izuna chuckled, but when the baby made a soft noise—half a sigh, half a whimper—his entire body stilled. His grin faded into something quieter, something real.
-Hey, kid,- he murmured, voice dropping lower. -We’re gonna have fun, you and me.- He glanced at (Y/N), mischief flickering in his gaze. -Your mother’s already scolding me. She’s been doing it for years.-
(Y/N) yawned, tired, but thrilled with this new side Izuna was displaying. -And I’ll keep doing it if you don’t behave.-
Izuna smirked. -No promises.-
But when (Y/N) shifted, too tired to banter further, he stepped closer, his free arm slipping around her shoulders. And for a while, they simply stayed like that—her, resting against him, their child safe between them.
Izuna had nowhere else to be. This is home.
Obito
Obito couldn’t sit still. He tried—really tried—but his leg kept bouncing, his fingers drummed restlessly against the blankets, his breath came a little too fast, a little too uneven.
He wasn’t sure what to do.
(Y/N) had just done all of that—had just gone through all of that—and he’d been utterly useless. He had held her hand, whispered encouragements, kissed her forehead, but he wasn’t the one who had fought through the pain, wasn’t the one who had pushed and bled and won.
And now there was a baby.
His baby.
(Y/N) reached for his hand—because of course she noticed, she always noticed—and gave it a weak squeeze. -Obito.-
He forced a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. -I’m fine.-
She arched a brow. -Liar.-
He let out a shaky laugh. -Okay, maybe I’m freaking out just a little bit.- He ran a hand through his hair, still ruffled from where he had kept tugging at it during the labor. -What if I mess up? What if I drop them? What if—
-Obito.-
He blinked.
She held out their child, cradled in her arms, and his heart stopped.
He had always been clumsy, always a little too much, never quite as graceful or effortless as the others. But when he reached for the baby, his hands were steady. Careful.
And when he held them—when they made the tiniest noise and curled into his warmth—his entire world tilted on its axis.
His throat tightened. -Oh.-
(Y/N) smiled. -See? You’re fine.-
He swallowed. I don’t deserve this.
But as the baby yawned, tiny and perfect, Obito exhaled and let himself have it. Just this once.
Shisui
Shisui was already in the bed, stretched out beside (Y/N) like he belonged there, an arm gently resting on the newborn's back, feeling their breathing, the other propping his head up as he gazed at her with something dangerously close to wonder.
-I knew you were amazing,- he murmured, voice warm with something deeper than flirtation. -But this? You keep finding ways to make me fall harder.-
(Y/N) let out a tired laugh. -I think you’re just easy.-
Shisui grinned. -For you? Always.-
It wasn’t empty charm, wasn’t some passing line he would forget by morning. It was the kind of effortless affection that had always been him—the way he made love feel like the most natural thing in the world.
He shifted, reaching over to adjust the blankets around her, fingers brushing over her skin like he needed the reassurance that she was still there, still his.
-You did so well,- he murmured, pressing a kiss to her cheek. -I’ve never been so in love with you.-
(Y/N) hummed, drowsy but pleased. -You say that every day.-
Shisui smirked. -And I’ll say it again tomorrow.-
Then his gaze dropped to the newborn, and his teasing softened into something quieter. He traced the tiniest fingertip with his own, watching in awe as the baby curled against (Y/N)’s chest, utterly content.
He exhaled. -You’re perfect,- he murmured, and for once, the words weren’t meant for (Y/N).
As (Y/N) drifted off, too tired to keep her eyes open, Shisui stayed awake, guarding them both with a quiet devotion that needed no words.
Itachi
Itachi had spent his entire life holding himself together.
Logic over emotion. Strategy over impulse.
But right now, there was no logic to anchor him. No control.
His hands were shaking.
(Y/N) was resting, exhaustion pulling her into sleep, but Itachi hadn’t moved. He couldn’t. He was still sitting on the edge of the bed, still staring at their child with something close to disbelief.
They were so small.
He had spent years mastering his own mind, his own body, but this? He couldn’t make sense of it. Couldn’t reconcile the war inside him.
Terror. Relief. Overwhelming, soul-crushing love.
(Y/N) stirred, barely conscious, and Itachi flinched.
Her hand found his. -Itachi.-
He inhaled sharply, but didn’t answer.
(Y/N) opened her eyes just enough to take him in—the tension in his shoulders, the unnatural stillness of his body, the way his fingers twitched as if wanting to do something but not knowing what.
And then, gently, she whispered, -It’s okay.-
The dam broke.
He made a sound—a sharp inhale, a shuddering exhale. His entire body curled forward, his forehead pressing against her shoulder as his breath came too fast, too uneven.
He never broke. Never let himself. But right now, in this moment, there was nothing left to hold back.
He had been terrified. Still was.
(Y/N) shifted as much as she could, lifting weak fingers to his hair, threading through it with an exhausted kind of patience.
Their child made a tiny sound, and Itachi flinched again, sitting up so fast it was as if he’d been burned.
And then, for the first time, he reached out.
He didn’t breathe until his fingers met soft, warm skin.
Didn’t move until the baby shifted, adjusting into his touch like they knew him, like they trusted him.
A sharp exhale.
And then, finally, his first words since the birth:
-I don’t deserve this.-
(Y/N) let her eyes drift shut again, trusting him in ways he still didn’t understand. -You do.-
He wasn’t sure if she was awake enough to hear him when he finally whispered back:
Based on Naruto Shippuden. Has canon-level violence and death. Mentions of pregnancy. Very fluffy and angsty. I try to follow the Shippuden storyline as best as I can. There will probably be grammar mistakes. Sorry, it took so long, I’m a senior in college so I’m just trying to graduate right now!
Find Part one here!
At this point no one knows of your relationship with Itachi except for the Akatsuki, only Jiraiya knows that’s because he was gaining intel on the Akatsuki and found out that way. But I know for a fact Tsunade has Anbu watch over your cottage. And that Anbu is Tenzo/ Yamato and you both have a deal to not tell your mother who visits and only steps in when you are in danger (even though you can handle yourself)
The only reason the Akatsuki knows about your relationship is because of Kisame’s slip up and that one-time Hidan tried to get in your pants and when you brought it up to Itachi. Itachi was not happy, and it is safe to say that Hidan will never mess with you or Itachi again. At least not in Itachi’s presence
Although you two are not officially married, he has slipped up and called you his wife when talking to Kisame about you. And Kisame never lets him live that down. And you have slipped up by saying my husband when talking to Sakura or Shizune. And they are so confused because they don’t even know you are seeing someone. I mean Sakura totally thinks you are from that one time, but she couldn't confirm it.
When Jiraiya and Naruto leave to train, you totally leave with them to travel again cuz you’ve missed traveling around the land and being able to help other people. When Jiraiya almost gets killed by Naruto, you are the one who saves his life. He is very much in debt to you at this point. One Senju almost killed him, while another practically saved him.
But you three diverge and you continue to do your own thing. And while traveling you meet Hidan and Kakazu a lot considering how much Kakazu tries to kill Hidan. Hidan likes to call you his little nurse, but only when Itachi isn’t around because the last time he did. He wished he wasn’t immortal.
While traveling, Itachi visits and you bring up starting a family because you know for a fact that Itachi to you is like Dan was to Tsunade. Plus, it doesn’t help that both you and Itachi have a feeling that Sasuke will come after him soon. You both go into this long discussion about having children and even though you are both extremely young. You are ready and fully prepared to raise a child on your own.
Itachi would love to have a child with you, and nothing would make him happier than starting a family with someone. Especially after being alone for so long and thinking that he did not deserve love at all. He doesn’t even think he deserves to have the privilege of being a father let own being with you.
You understand his stance and wouldn’t push any further, but he wouldn’t mind trying and if you were to get pregnant then you do and if not, you don’t.
“My Love, after everything I did. You would want to give me that honor?”
“Of course, Itachi, no matter what happened in the past, you deserve to have a family.”
That absolutely melts him, and he does not understand how he is constantly falling deeper and deeper in love with you because each time he falls and doesn't think he can fall deeper. After this conversation, you both would continue to talk about baby names. And decided that if you were to have a daughter, name her Mikoto after Itachi’s mother. For a boy, you would name him after your late uncle Nawaki.
During your travels you hear about the civil war in the Land of Rain, so you head that way to provide medical aid to injured civilians and ninja if need be. Getting into the Land of Rain is extremely difficult to begin with, but because you are an “asset” to the Akatsuki, you can get in easily. Although when you tell Pain that you are going to provide for both sides, he was not happy, but killing you would cause him more issues than he needed now, especially since they are preparing their move.
The people in their Hidden Village often called you The Priestess, which was a name you haven’t heard since you met Itachi all those years ago. During the Civil War, Hanzo had put a few attempts on your life, which did not work. Except there was a very close call where an injured ninja had arrived at your tent. The injuries were serious, so you used a lot of chakras and by the time you were done you were exhausted. In your state of exhaustion, you didn’t realize the ninja had gotten up and threw a kunai through your stomach. When you looked back, he was already dead, and Itachi was standing over his body. You pull the kunai out of your stomach before you start to cough up a lot of blood.
At this point you were bleeding out and your chakra was almost completely depleted. Although your mother had taught you about the Seal of 100 hundreds healing and how to accumulate the chakra. You never truly unlocked it, and you have been accumulating chakra since you were 15.
Suddenly you feel the wound disappearing and your chakra regenerating quicker than normal. By the time Itachi moves to you, your stomach wound is practically closed and just blood covers that portion of your shirt. His heart literally dropped when he saw the kunai in your stomach. He literally could not lose you, the only person in his life that showed him what it was like to love again. In his mind, he will always be the one to die first, after all Sasuke is getting stronger.
“Please don’t leave me yet.”
After your near-death experience, you leave the land of rain and begin to head back to Konoha. During your travels, you run into Jiraiya and Naruto. The first thing you do is check on Jiraiya’s wound and ask how the training is going.
You finally arrive in Konoha and the first thing you do is head back to your cottage near the Nara Forest. To your own surprise, Tsunade, Shizune, Sakura, and Tenzo have kept your home clean and neat.
On your walk to the village, the first person to recognize you is Sakura, who was picking medical herbs right outside the village. The first thing she noticed was your forehead seal. Her eyes literally lit up and asked about the seal. You answered any questions she had while you both walked into the village straight to the hokage’s office to talk to your mother.
When you arrive at the office, Tsunade is doing paperwork with Shizune. She stops her paperwork to give you a large hug, much like when you initially arrived in Konoha. You talk and discuss your travels as well as how you unlocked your Seal of 100 Healings.
During this time, you have started to help at the Hidden Leaf Hospital. You also grow close to the Nara family, cuz after all you are one of the few people allowed in the forest. You rarely see Itachi at all until about a week before Naruto arrives.
You are hanging out in your home, cleaning up and getting ready to leave into the forest to collect medical herbs to use. A knock at your door causes you to stop what you are doing and at the door is Itachi. You smile widely because you haven’t seen him in a while and let him in.
During his visit, he tells you that the Akatsuki are starting their plan and probably will not see him very much or at all until the plan is complete. You nod your head and ask how long he will be staying. And ofc it’s not long but he promised to make the most of it. Because after all you both have a feeling that you wouldn’t see each other again.
So, his entire visit you guys do nothing but whisper sweet nothings and make love to each other, because after all of this is the last time, you might see Itachi.
Before he leaves you to try to heal his eyesight, but he denies you and that makes that gut feeling even worse.
“Please come back to me.”
“I can’t promise that my love.”
The next week, Naruto returns to the village with Jiraiya after training for so long. Once Jiraiya hands Naruto off to Kakashi, he asks you to meet for tea. You meet up with him and discuss his intel on the Akatsuki and want it to mean for you as an “honorary” member of Akatsuki. You refuse to break the confidentiality between Itachi and yourself, so you only listen and don’t tell anything specific other than their plan is starting soon, but don’t know when. With that, you leave some Ryo and leave.
You don’t hear from any of the Akatsuki until you are talking to a Nara member in the village and a gray piece of paper lands in your hand as a message from Konan. You politely dismiss yourself from the Nara member and head straight to your cottage to prepare a first aid bag. As you leave the cottage, you are met with Tobi, which teleports you to the hideout.
Once you arrive at the hideout, you are met with an extremely injured Deidara, a dead Sasori, and fellow Akatsuki members. You instantly go to work on Deidara and heal him as best as you can. You practically exhaust yourself healing Deidara and nearly pass out from chakra depletion. After like 6 hours of healing, you have healed Deidara the best you could.
You continue with your life until one day you go to Sakura because you were feeling under the weather. It had been about three weeks since you saw Itachi. As a healing ninja, you had an idea about what was causing the illness. When she confirmed your suspicions, you told her to not tell anyone, not even your mother.
You heard talk around the village about Akatsuki in the area. You ignore the information and go to the closest collection office to collect some blood and resources. Although technically working with Konoha is a way. While being a mercenary any blood or organs you needed you would go to the collection offices and buy them. Just as you arrived you ran into Shikamaru and his crew. When he asked what you were doing here you brought up how when you were traveling you often used collection offices to get blood and organs. What you weren’t expecting was that Hidan was sitting on the stoop of the office.
As soon as you walked past, Hidan perked up and was like “Are you to heal me, my little nurse” with that smirk on his face. You simply replied with, “don’t let you know who hear that” and his face paled slightly until he looked behind you. You just walked in and started talking to Kakazu and the Head person about the recent arrivals and cost and stuff.
Cue the fight scene where Asuma is dying.
You felt bad about Asuma and how Ino was trying to help him, she looked at you pleadingly as a cue to help her.
“Why are you just standing there? HELP US!”
“He’s already dead Ino.”
The shock in her eyes as you said that and the anger behind them was something you haven’t seen since the Civil War in the Hidden Rain Village. You felt guilty but she will learn when to stop trying like you did.
“How long have you been working with Akatsuki?”
You didn’t answer at all. You didn’t have to tell Shikamaru how you met them randomly and then fell in love with Kin slayer and is pregnant with his child. You didn’t have to explain how we were practically a mercenary, so it wasn’t uncommon to run into ting. Everyone looked at you in shock and betrayal.
You simply returned to your cottage and prepared for a transplant that you needed to complete to help a traveling merchant.
You had been requested by your mother to report to the Hokage’s office, regarding the issue. You wanted to ignore it, but her mother’s ignorance of the situation has gone on too long and now we both needed to answer it.
As soon as you arrived you heard the screaming from Shikamaru, Ino, and Choji about the situation. They wanted answers and you didn’t blame them. As soon as you walked into the office you and your mother exchanged a look and you sighed.
“You want answers, here are the answer.”
You explained to them about how you were a traveling healer and that you had run into Itachi and Kisame by chance. And how it wasn’t uncommon to see rogue ninja on the road, and since you weren’t one for affiliations, you healed whoever regardless how terrible they were. You told them everything except your relationship with Itachi and that you were pregnant. After that whole debacle, they were of course still angry for letting Asuma die and the whole situation. You chose to not go to the funeral.
Cue the Itachi pursuit mission and here’s where it gets angsty…
At this point you are like 2 months pregnant, and slightly showing.
So, when you hear about the mission you of course decide to join regardless of what your mother says, and the people involved are confused until your mother explains to them my connection to Akatsuki and your close relation to Itachi. She didn’t go into detail about our relationship but said it would be helpful.
Jiraiya and I made eye contact, and you really had a bad feeling about this, and you knew that you had to go regardless of the protest. Tenzo would back you up in going but Sakura was nervous for your child.
During the mission you are stuck with Sakura and the two ninja dogs. Until there was a bright explosion, that captivated us. You instantly start running that way cuz you knew you had to, there was a feeling. After that investigation, you continued with the group until Tobi popped up, you knew why he was there and why there was this pit in your stomach.
“Tobi, let me through!”
“Tobi only will let Ms. (Y/N) because she gives Tobi candy.”
With that you pushed through unconcerned with the yelling behind and the confusion. Tenzo knew why you had to move forward. I ran until I caught up with Kisame and Sasuke's crew. You were already crying knowing the outcome today will have, but you just needed to see him.
“Kisame please… you know I need to see him.”
“You of all people should know why I can’t let you through.”
I’m the last part of the fight. You pushed through Kisame and ran Itachi, the dehydration didn’t matter, the cold numbing your body didn’t matter, and the rawness in your eyes did not matter. All that mattered was Itachi and seeing him alive and telling him about your child. So, he can die knowing about the miracle you two have talked about.
As soon as you arrived at the scene, a scream ripped from your lips, and you stumbled down the rocky surface to meet Itachi. You ignored the stunned boy and instantly fell to the ground, grasping Itachi in your hands. You started healing him in desperation to see his eyes again, to see the love they carry.
“Please don’t leave me, please! I can’t live without you, Itachi. I can’t… I can’t raise her by myself!” You sobbed loudly as Tobi, Kisame, and Zenstu appear in front of you. You continued to try and heal him as the sob racked from your body, vision blurry with tears unable to comprehend anything around you. “I know I said I was ready to do this by myself, but I c-can’t, please. Please wake up!” Hoping it was genjustu who continued to try and free yourself. You even used your 100 healing seals just so you could see his brown eyes again. You didn’t care that you might be hurting your child, but you just wanted to hear his voice one more time, see his smile one more time. It was too soon for him to go, he still needed to meet his child, he had to meet his child. “We have to take him,” someone said but you couldn’t figure out who, and next thing you know all you are holding his headband to your chest as another loud scream is ripped from your mouth into the air as the Konoha ninja finally reach you. Ignoring their presence, you continue to sob, not caring who sees or hears because, after all the love of your life, the father of your child had just been ripped away from you. Your throat was raw as you finally feel someone put their cloak over you to try and cover your drenched form. The world was a cruel place, and you can think everything is perfect until it all falls apart. All you say, your throat raw from screaming, turning back to them is,
It happened...I CAN'T TAKE IT WHENEVER IM REMINDED OF ITACHIS DEATH💔. This is so good and so tragic, I wonder if he'll meet Reader and their baby later on in the war arc...I NEED PART THREE WAHHH
Okay guys. Hear me out! Just imagine Tsunade has a daughter while she’s gone from the village. She and Shizune taught her medical ninjutsu while the reader grew up. This allowed her to master Tsunade’s teaching by the time she was like 15. The reader and Tsunade separate and the reader travels around helping shinobi and civilians alike. That’s how she meets Itachi and Kisame.
This is gonna have slightly suggested themes, but do not plan on going into detail. There will be canon violence and swearing.
Update: if this reaches 30 notes, I will do a part two!!
Update 2: As promised I will try to get part two up by the end of the week, but summer classes me kicking my ass rn
Part two is here
About 2.5k words
Tsunade still loves Dan and he will always be her only love. But one night she gets a little too drunk and the guy she hooks up with looks a little too much like Dan. Literally Tsunade and shizune leave that village the next day
Tsunade finds out that she’s pregnant on the road. It was quite a shock to both her and Shizune, but she decides to carry out her pregnancy because everything happens for a reason
As soon as you are born, she realizes that had 3rd love. The first being her little brother, Nawaki, and Dan. Shizune and Tsunade raise you together while you move from village to village.
Tsunade was very reluctant in teaching you ninjutsu and the shinobi way entirely because she couldn’t lose her daughter. She decided that teaching you would be good for self-defense and thus she began to teach you the basic of chakra
This is such a good AU but damn I thought it would be fluff and all that teeth rotting stuff but the last bullets got me wanting to sob...why can't Itachi and Reader and a good endingT-T
Congratulations on a 100! Can I request a female reader and a scenario where Kakashi discovers in a very shocking way that his s/o is pregnant? Please don't mind not writing if it bothers you. Stay hydrated and have a nice day regardless!🌸
thank you for the request!! hope you enjoy!!
***
A Kunoichi's Suprise
ao3
words: 1.9k
kakashi x fem!reader, fluff, reader is pregnant
***
“I do hate to do this to you, but you’re the best choice. There’s not an Inuzuka available who has the security clearance necessary, which makes you the only ninken-user I can assign this to.”
Kakashi nodded and shrugged, brushing off the unspoken apology. “I understand, it’s no issue.”
Tsunade pursed her lips into a thin line, nodding solemnly. “If it wasn’t so time-sensitive, I’d put someone else on it, I swear.” She tucked a loose strand of her silvery blond hair behind her ear and shuffled the papers on her desk, bringing a personnel file to the top. “And to accompany you… Again, I’m really sorry, but she’s the only one who makes sense. She was in the area most recently out of all available jonin and her weapons expertise makes her the best candidate to accompany you.”
His eyebrows dipped together in mild confusion. He would have requested this partner if she hadn’t been assigned—he agreed fully that they would make the best team for this recovery mission. Shaking it off, he nodded again. “Sounds great, Lady Fifth. Anything else?”
Tsunade let out a breath she had been half holding and leaned back in her chair. Tonton gave a relieved squeak and Shizune pulled her closer to her chest. The Hokage dragged her hands across her eyes, then leaned forward on her elbows.
“Glad you’re taking this so well. I thought you’d at least argue about your fiancé going with you, if not objecting to being sent on a mission right now at all.”
Kakashi jerked his head backwards and to the side, scanning over the Sannin with his single vibrant, gray eye. “I’m sorry if I gave you the impression I like to argue with superiors, Tsunade-sama. That’s really more Naruto’s thing.” She snorted, and he took it as a good sign. “When would you like us to head out? Thirty minutes?”
Immediately, Tsunade shot him down. “She needs a medic to look her over before she can go into the field. I’m happy to do it myself. Her training with her team ends at noon, right?” She glanced at the clock, then gestured to Shizune. “Send Kotetsu or Izumo to pull her, we can’t wait that long.” With a quick nod, she ducked out of the room. “Meanwhile, you can go pack bags for you both. Be sure to grab her med pack, I’ll probably need to give her a bonus prescription or two for the journey.”
At this point, Kakahi’s confusion could no longer be dismissed. Why would his fiancé need extra medication for a mission? He had just seen you when you left to meet your team of genin, and you hadn’t mentioned anything. Maybe the stomach bug you had had a few weeks ago had been worse than you let on?
“Sorry, prescriptions? Are we facing potential poisoning?” He tried, looking for an explanation.
Tsunade shook her head firmly. “Anything is possible, but I’m not concerned about it.” She ran her hand backward through her hair, shaking it gently toward the ends and letting it fall out of the way. “More concerned with making sure she’s getting the correct nutrients. I’ve been working on the nutritional value of shinobi rations, but it’s hard to find something that’s shelf stable, lightweight, and compact without just being food pills.”
Kakashi agreed, a debate he had heard on nearly every long term mission. “So you’ll give us both supplements, fair. Should we do my physical now while we wait on my fiancé to arrive?” He relished the words in his mouth, the phrase “my fiancé” almost a dream to him, even still.
She gave a bemused chuckle, glancing the scarecrow of a man up and down. “Why, you have some kind of boo-boo you need me to kiss?” Tsunade returned to the paperwork on her desk, shuffling it again and pulling the shinobi copy of the mission details file out, holding it out to him. “I trust you to get whatever nutrients you need after all these years of life, Bakashi,” she teased.
He didn’t move to take the file. “What’s going on?” he demanded, as respectfully as absolutely necessary. “What’s going on that she needs a medical check and extra medication to travel on a mission? Why did you think I would object to being paired with her? It’s not our first mission together, not even since we got engaged. What am I forgetting?”
Tsunade didn’t react to his interrogation, continuing to organize paperwork and leaning down to pull open a drawer in her desk, sliding his and your personnel files inside. “The fetus, maybe?” She offered, waving a hand like it was obvious.
The what?
For a moment, Tsunade could almost hear the cogs grinding in the shinobi’s head. You passing him every drink that had been pushed on you in the last few weeks, the stomach bug that he had never caught, and the uptick in morning meetings you had.
Then the cogs were brought to a halt, and the whole world froze. The blood running through his body was ice cold, and he felt his fingertips and forehead tingling. Were you really pregnant?
Was he, Kami forbid, going to be a father?
Tsunade swore, knowing she shouldn’t have said anything violating medical confidentiality, but with the pregnancy already being in the second trimester, she had no idea that you hadn’t told Kakashi yet. “Listen, Kakashi… just sit down, okay?” She looked around, swearing again at the reminder that this damn office had no chairs outside of the one she occupied.
She jumped up, crossing over to Kakashi and pushing him forward into the chair behind the desk. “Breathe, Kakashi, come on.” She shook him gently, then lightly slapped his cheek. “Come on, soldier. You’re Kakashi of the Sharingan, master of a thousand jutsu, pull it together.”
He flatly refused.
The door to the Hokage’s office opened, Shizune and Tonton leading you in. You took a moment to take in the scene of your fiancé hyperventilating behind the desk, the Hokage herself swearing and trying to get him to make eye contact and pull air into his lungs. Then he saw you, and he paused, fear in his eyes.
“Is it true—I mean, are you—love, are you pregnant?” He choked out.
Your hand flew to your mouth as if to put the secret back inside. You knew you’d have to tell him eventually, but you had wanted the moment to be right and he had been so busy with his missions lately. He didn’t know it yet, but you had rented a room at a nearby onsen for next weekend, making sure to get a room with a private bath and windows high enough that no onlookers could see inside so that he could comfortably remove his mask. That would’ve been the way you preferred he find out, when rather than dessert, you slid the sonogram across the table after dinner. Instead, you nodded.
“Yes, my love,” you whispered. “I’m pregnant.” Instinctively, your hand rested over the part of your stomach that had begun showing this last week.
He seemed to melt into chair. “Kami… we’re going to be parents?”
You nodded, a small laugh breaking from your chest. “Yes, Kakashi, that’s the plan.”
Slowly, he gathered himself, standing up and delicately walking around the desk to the doorway where you remained. “I… You want this?” He sniffed hard, blinking twice and taking your hands. “You want to raise a child with me? This child?”
You tilted your head to the side, feeling hot tears sting your eyes. You knew he had issues with his self worth, and that would be something you would focus on for the next few months so he’d be ready for your child.
“Of course, ‘Kashi. There’s no one I trust more, no one I think would make a better father. I can’t imagine doing this with anyone else, and I’m thrilled that I get to do it with you.”
His wiry frame jolted as though he’d been shocked, and the threw himself into your arms, allowing his fears and shock to leave him through tears. Tsunade and Shizune averted their eyes, doing what they could to preserve your privacy. Tonton oinked in solidarity. After a couple of moments, he stood again, wiping dry the parts of his face not covered by salty, wet fabric. He then hooked a finger into the mask at the side of his nose, yanked it down, and brought you into a deep kiss, warm hands wrapping around you and pulling you close.
After the surprise, you let yourself dissolve into him, allowing yourself to be swept into his emotional display. He pulled his face back after a few beats and beamed, smiling as widely as you could remember seeing him grin. Then his mouth was back on yours, this time for just a second, then a firm kiss to your forehead before he secured the mask again. Turning to face the Hokage, he wrapped his arm around your back and held you close.
“Tsunade-sama, all due respect, can Pakkun handle this? I’ll send him with anyone you’d like. Naruto, even, I don’t think he’s doing anything tonight. I can send the whole pack. I can brief Gai, or Tenzo, anyone? And if you need a weapons expert, I’m sure Tenten is more than qualified.” You giggled, watching your fiancé ramble to the leader of the village. “It’s just, I’m going to be a father, and she’s pregnant with our child, and I’ve gotta say, I don’t think we’re going on any missions for the next, say, 18 years? Well, maybe some D ranks. We’ll see.”
As Tsunade opened her mouth, he cut her off with a pointed, “How’s the progress on the Konoha Orphanage coming along? They prepared for one more? Cause I’m not letting anything happen to either of us, for this child’s sake.”
Tsunade glared, but was startled out of the shouting match she was gearing up for by Shizune chuckling. Betrayed, she turned to her companion.
“I mean, this is the reaction you anticipated him having, Lady Fifth,” she giggled.
She slammed a fist on the desk, although with an intense amount of restraint given that the surface was not even dented. Finally, she looked up with a glint in her eye.
“I think Hana Inuzuka gets back this evening. I can give her twelve hours to rest and then she and Tenten, along with Gai, can probably handle it. This time.”
Kakashi was already on his way out the door, pulling you behind him in a firmly clasped hand, before she had finished. He called out a thanks over your shoulder as you left. Together, you giggled as you entered the streets of Konoha.
Your fiancé spun in circles, laughing freely and spreading his arms out. “We’re starting a family!” he shouted to the sky. You knew you would both continue to take missions with this child, and that was a conversation for another time. For now, though, you were content to spend eternity watching the love of your life giddily relish in this moment.
a/n: today’s forecast is severe uchiha yearning with a 90% chance of emotionally repressed forehead touches dedicated to my beautiful moot @arabella0001, i hope this makes you smile 🖤
word count: 1,349
content: post-war sasuke uchiha generally being allergic to vulnerability unless it sneaks up on him with a knife
There is something uniquely dangerous about loving Sasuke Uchiha because he is not a man built for easy attachment. He loves like winter soil clinging onto buried fire—quietly, reluctantly, absolutely.
In the beginning, your relationship would feel less like courtship and more like being slowly permitted closer to a feral animal that keeps expecting the hand reaching for it to become a weapon. Not because he dislikes you, it's actually the opposite; Sasuke becomes colder when he cares. He watches himself around you with frightening precision because attachment still feels dangerous to him for a very long time; he has lost too many people to trust happiness without expecting a blade to be hidden inside it. So early affection comes in strange forms: He walks you home without mentioning it, he remembers little details that you forgot about telling him, he appears beside you any time you need help, he silently positions himself between you and any perceived danger without even thinking about it. Sasuke has a deeply protective streak that becomes very obvious in a relationship. He is constantly aware of his surroundings and unconsciously keeps track of where you are, especially in crowded or dangerous situations. Sometimes it manifests subtly, like a hand at your back guiding you through a crowd, and other times it becomes intensely serious if he believes you are truly threatened. You realise he loves you long before he ever says it because his body rearranges itself around your safety.
Sasuke is deeply tactile in private and near untouchable in public. Not out of embarrassment. Possessiveness, maybe a little. Privacy? Definitely. He hates the feeling of other people witnessing something soft from him; it feels exposed in the same way standing unarmed might feel exposed. Behind closed doors, he is an entirely different creature. He adores unconscious contact like your legs thrown across his lap while he reads, your face pressed against his shoulder while he maintains his weapons, fingers hooked loosely in your clothes while you sleep. When he's exhausted, truly exhausted, he becomes clingy in ways he would vehemently deny under torture. He gravitates toward your warmth like his nervous system only powers down correctly when he's near you. The intimacy of simply existing together peacefully means far more to him than grand declarations.
Arguments with Sasuke are rarely loud. He does not explode outwardly often anymore, he freezes. Silence becomes his defence mechanism when he's hurt or overwhelmed. The problem is that his silence carries weight with it—it makes rooms feel colder, it makes air turn tight around the ribs. The hardest stage of loving Sasuke is learning that when he withdraws, he is usually trying not to wound you with whatever storm is moving through his head, and the hardest thing for him to learn is that shutting you out hurts you anyway. Eventually, the relationship becomes less about 'never fighting' and more about learning how to come back to one another afterwards. Sasuke apologises badly at first, awkwardly, like he's trying to translate into a language he barely speaks. His apologies are sincere, though, because his behaviour changes following them. That his how he tells you he loves you most consistently: correction, effort, and return. Loving him requires patience, but he gives that same patience in turn.
Sasuke is wildly observant to your emotional state. This man notices everything. The stiffness in your shoulders, the difference between tiredness and sadness, the exact tells that let him know when you're overwhelmed, when your smile is performative rather than genuine, the tone your voice takes when you're pretending to be okay. He spent years surviving by reading danger in microscopic shifts and then skill never truly disappears. The catch is that he often notices your distress before you do, and if you're someone who self-destructs privately, Sasuke becomes fiercely protective. Not controlling, necessarily, but he is very intent on reducing burdens once he realises you're reaching your limit. So he starts handling things before you ask. He'll cook, he'll take over chores, he'll steer social interactions away from you, he will stand guard like a wolf sitting before the entrance of its den.
Trust with Sasuke is sacred. He does not give trust halfway. Once you have it, you have something immovable. If someone insults you unfairly, he remembers. If someone hurts you intentionally, he remembers longer. There is an almost chilling certainty to the way his loyalty operates once you become part of his inner world. You stop fearing abandonment with him eventually because Sasuke's love is not fickle. If anything, it's stubborn to the point of self-destruction. The horrifying part is realising he would burn himself hollow protecting the people he loves if left unchecked.
Domesticity changes him more than anything else ever could. Not dramatically; Sasuke is never going to become loud or overly expressive overnight, but little things soften in him. He starts lingering instead of disappearing constantly, he learns your routines as he slowly gets used to your presence being woven into the tapestry of his life. Sometimes you catch moments that almost feel unreal: Sasuke half-asleep with his hair loose and sunlight across his face, his arms around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder while you cook, looking up from across the room with this unbearably gentle expression on his face like he still cannot believe you stayed. Domestic peace affects him like thawing frostbitten hands—painful, at first, then addictive.
Jealousy with Sasuke is subtle but lethal. He is not the type to start a scene, he is the type to silently appear beside you with one hand settling at your waist while staring another person down hard enough to qualify as psychological warfare. The worst part? Half the time he does not even realise he's doing it. 😭 Possessiveness leaks out of him the most when he feels emotionally insecure or disconnected from you, especially early in your relationship when part of him is still bracing to lose everything unexpectedly. Once mature trust settles in, though, the jealousy quiets down and becomes more amusing. Dry comments, calm interruptions, that infamous Uchiha Stare™ sharpening whenever someone is getting too comfortable with you.
Physical intimacy with Sasuke would be intensely emotional even when neither of you says much. Like some of the other men in the cast, vulnerability and desire are deeply intertwined for him. Eye contact matters to him, forehead touches, hands gripping fabric, breathing each other in like memorisation. Sasuke strikes me as someone who loves slowly at first, cautiously, until the dam breaks and suddenly all the suppressed intensity surfaces at once. And afterwards? Oh, the softness is ruinous. This terrifying man who looks carved from shadow and old grief delicately brushing hair from your face, thumb tracing absentmindedly across your pulse points, holding you against his chest like he's calming something ancient inside himself.
He would struggled profoundly with the idea of deserving you. Even years later, especially after happier periods in your life together. Trauma survivors sometimes become most frightened when life finally turns gentle because now there is something precious to lose. There would be nights where Sasuke looks at you with almost crushing tenderness and distance at the same time because part of him still cannot reconcile love with survival. Those moments require patience, not reassurance every second, just simple presence. Your hand in his, your forehead against his, proof that you are still here. Over time, that consistency becomes the thing that finally teaches him that peace can be survivable too.
Loving Sasuke ultimately means understanding that beneath all the restraint, intelligence, sharpness, and grief…he loves with startling sincerity. Sasuke is not a casual lover, he is not convenient, he does not do halfway. Once he lets you into his heart, you become stitched into the structure of him permanently. That kind of love from someone like Sasuke Uchiha would feel less like fireworks and more like standing beside a mountain in winter and realising that the snow-covered thing beside you would collapse the very heavens before letting you freeze alone.
All rights reserved. Please do not repost, copy, translate, plagiarise, or feed my work into AI. Reblogs are deeply appreciated; reposts are not permitted.
Oh my gosh I just read thought he whole thing and I must say. You have captured his character so well!!!
Sasuke is often mischaracterized by a TON. People often forget how much trauma he had accumulated as a kid after the massacre happened and go as far as downplaying him into an emo and heartless just because he doesn't express his feelings well.
