sasuke x reader one shot

T.W. - arranged marriage (obviously)

I've used a different writing style, just for fun.

The Letter

It arrived on a Tuesday, slipped under your door like a secret. Heavy parchment, the Hokage's seal pressed into wax. You already knew what it was-everyone in the village had been whispering about it.

Arranged marriages.
A political maneuver, they called it. A way to strengthen alliances, to bind the past to the future.

You unfolded the paper.

Sasuke Uchiha.

The name sat there, black ink on white, as unyielding as the man himself. You had seen him before-across crowded streets, in the hushed corners of the memorial stone, his presence like a shadow that never quite faded. He was a ghost who had returned to a village that no longer knew how to hold him.

And now, apparently, he was to be your husband.

On the day of the marriage

The morning of the ceremony, you woke to the sound of rain. Not the harsh, drumming kind, but the soft, persistent drizzle that made everything seem muted-like the world itself was holding its breath. You dressed slowly, fingers lingering on the smooth fabric of your yukata, its deep indigo patterned with faint silver threads that caught the light only when you moved just so.

The wedding was to be held in one of the older Uchiha buildings, a place that had survived the massacre by virtue of being unremarkable. The air inside smelled of tatami and incense, with an undercurrent of something else-old wood, maybe, or the ghosts of extinguished flames.

Sasuke was already there when you arrived, standing near the alcove where a single scroll bearing the Uchiha crest had been placed. He wore black, of course, but the cut was formal, the fabric heavy and slightly stiff at the shoulders. His hair was tied back, revealing the sharp lines of his profile. He didn't turn when you entered, but you saw the minute tightening of his jaw, the way his fingers flexed once at his sides before stilling again.

The Hokage-Hiruzen-stood between you, his usual exuberance dampened into something solemn. He kept glancing at Sasuke, then at you, as if waiting for one of you to bolt.

The ceremony itself was brief. No grand speeches, no elaborate rituals. Just the exchange of sake cups, the slow, deliberate movements of hands that had known violence now performing something delicate. When it was your turn to drink, the porcelain was cool against your lips, the sake burning faintly as it slid down your throat. Across from you, Sasuke's gaze was fixed on some point just beyond your shoulder, his expression unreadable.

Then it was done.

Afterward, there was a small gathering-if it could even be called that. A handful of shinobi, some elders, all murmuring in low tones as they picked at the food that had been laid out. You stood near the edge of the room, holding a cup of tea you had no intention of drinking.

Sasuke appeared beside you, closer than he'd been all day.

"You're not eating," he said.

You glanced at him. "Neither are you."

A pause. Then, almost imperceptibly, the corner of his mouth twitched. "I don't like crowds."

You hummed, turning your cup in your hands. "We could leave."

He didn't answer, but when you set your tea down and stepped toward the door, he followed.

Outside, the rain had eased into a fine mist, clinging to your skin like a second layer. The streets were empty, the lanterns casting wavering pools of light on the damp cobblestones. You walked without speaking, the silence between you comfortable in a way it hadn't been before.