Can i get just sasusaku baby fluff please!!!
requested by rbdfanchavez
The smallest sliver of light slices in the dark, illuminating a pair of narrowed eyes
Hinges grate, and the chakra seals hum in power as they open, giving way to an armored guard towering over a young woman who was cradling something small in her arms. Sasuke could not see them clearly, as the bulb that flickered barely gave any brightness in the room, but the shades of sea-green, sky-white & sunset-pink were a welcoming sight to the constant darkness.
Sakura stands before him, a smile on her face.
Relief washes over him as the soft Sasuke-kun destroys his stunned silence (he knew, he knew, he fucking knew, dammit), and she sits beside him on the hard cot, wordlessly asking with those honest eyes if he would like to see his child.
Bruised arms almost receive the bundle in her arms, but they hesitate awkwardly in the space between them - he haven’t even seen the infant’s face and the fear was almost crippling : what if he dropped…? there was an itch on his throat, scabs in his hands, and isn’t this place always crawling with diseases? His weakened body almost shakes as he could not breathe, till Sakura’s soft laugh hushed his loud thoughts again as she met his hands halfway.
It’s okay. She assures him. Hold him, Otousan.
And by gods, when the tiny, fragile weight settles in his rather clumsy hold, when he sees his son - black curls, soft skin, pouting lips - for the first time underneath the flickering light, Sasuke swore that he could build a thousand dark suns and destroy a million worlds for him.
What I would not do, he thinks as the small cheek nudges against him as the child sought his warmth, for you?
This boy’s hand, covered in white mitten, tightly clamps on his calloused finger, not knowing on how his father could love so fiercely that he would consume and possess the darkness if anything, anything happens to him.
Dread returns to him in as he looks at his family, colors in tiny increments, not quite swallowed by the shadows that surrounds them. Sakura had accepted all of him and the consequences of being an almost-widow to a man hunted in the five countries, because he had always known (but often denied) her strength. But his innocent son is vulnerable, defenseless - his life can easily end, and how much it would break him if he loses this child?
A child who deserved to grow and chose whatever he wanted to be, live in a world without being condemned for the crimes he had foolishly committed. For the first time, he almost feels comfort that his son would be protected from him after this. Sakura would make sure of it, as he noticed her traveling boots, knowing that she would leave everything behind.
If anything, Sasuke almost gives in to laugh at the irony of it all; the thought of abandoning everything he nearly destroyed for - the clan he revered, and avenged for in his whole life - cast aside in favor of a week-old child.
“Haruno.” He spoke, voice raw and breaking, loud in the empty cell, “Haruno Shinobu”
(春野 忍 : An enduring spring)
Asleep the whole time, the child merely scrunches his face before passed to his mother, soundless tears staining the swaddling clothes. Sasuke brushes a thumb on the small, wide forehead.
“Sakura,” His gaze locks on hers, the brief flare of his sharingan startles her as information of safehouses and awaiting loyal feline servants flooded to her mind.”If you need anything…”
“I love you. I still love you. Always.” she cuts him off, her voice soft and shaking. Her words bubble forth quickly, hearing the oncoming footsteps. “With all my heart. I wished that I could have done something. I tried my best to make you happy, but I’m sorry. I’m—”
He gently presses his lips against her ear, a one-armed embrace around his family.
“Thank you, Sakura.”
Ten minutes has passed, and the door opens.
On the eve of Uchiha Sasuke’s execution for the almost total destruction of the five shinobi nations, Haruno Sakura was finally declared MIA as she had been missing after six months in a distant field mission. His warden, an unnamed former ROOT operative was the one who reported that he did not ask for his last meal, or even any visitors in the morning.
title derived from here: (x)(x)