A/N No clue where this came from. I honestly don't expect much feedback, it doesn't even make sense to me. However I will share it. Can't do much else with it.

Disclaimer : I own nothing but the plot. All rights belong to Kishimoto sensei

Warnings: Introspective piece, AU. In desperate need for a beta. Excuse, but do point out any mistakes.

Notes: Murano glass is( as best said from wikipedia) a famous product of the Venetian island of Murano. Located off the shore of Venice, Italy, Murano has been a commercial port as far back as the 7th century. By the 10th century, the city had become well-known for its glass makers, who created unique Murano glass. While Murano glass makers have settled and operate elsewhere, some say authentic Murano glass is fabricated only in Murano.

Sommerso (lit. "submerged" in Italian), or "sunken glasses", is a form of artistic Murano glass that has layers of contrasting colors (typically two), which are formed by dipping the object in molten glass; the outermost layer, or casing, is often clear.

This notes will hopefully help you understand this piece a bit better.

Soft pearl eyes were shining brightly with unshed tears, giving an otherwordly illumination to her porcelain face. A choke was swiftly and efficiently swallowed back, down her throat, before it's sound could further disgrace her. Such a sweet sound, the one of her despair.

He gazes at her hungrily. Here lies his stolen prize, his precious possession, an arms distance away -yet still so out of his reach. Yearning and longing are commanding his body, his heart and soul. All hers they whisper. All that we are is hers.

She is unaware that the fallen Avenger has bound himself to her so tightly. She fears him so much, it's almost insane. She feels like breaking.

He speaks to her one day, his voice sinful and deep, like steel covered in velvet, caress her skin as though it's his fingers. You are like glass, he whispers. His breath ghost over the skin of her neck (when did he get so close?) and she panics, but before she gets any chance to back away, he's gone.

Her traitorous body misses the fleeting warmth.

One day she doesn't know which for she has lost the count Hinata gets up and explores the room she is trapped inside. Her eyes see what most would not notice right away, but hers are special and they make her breath hitch on her throat.

They show her a room made of glass.

No one really knew his obsession with it. They all thought that steel were his breath and eternal love. But as always they were wrong about him.

She is like glass. He knows this because he knows her.

She is the type of glass, often referred to by the masters as Soda-lime or soft glass. The most prevalent of its kind, it's uses vary from containers to windows. There is nothing interesting to it, like there is nothing interesting to her. At first.

Like her glass, she is transparent. Her emotions shine vividly through her eyes and face and she could not deceive him anymore than a soft glass could hide it's contents. A kunoichi should never speak with her eyes, yet hers are hiding nothing.

She is fragile. One well aimed hit and she will crumple and break. And she could never be mended again. Too torn apart and after all, a cracked glass can never be repaired.

And like all shinobi and like all kind of glass, she had been molded. She was taken as a young child and was burned in high temperatures inside Konoha's will of Fire, becoming liquid and shapeless. Then her Glass - Masters had tried to shape her into the form they'd found fitting for their heir. They had given her a basic, harsh shape, that did not suit her soft glass and had painted her in colors that were not complimenting her. Amateurish, hurried work, for fear she would become hardened and end up useless and shapeless. They'd failed, of course. It was not her fault, really. The shape, colors and worth of the glass reflects the precision and the fine craftsmanship of it's master. Her masters were old and stupid and forgetful of the way a fine piece of rare glass should be treated and so she has been reduced to a mere decoration. For like a badly shaped Murano, while she is not the masterpiece she should have been, she's still a Murano - A Hyuuga. She is still expensive - and priceless.

So he steals her. Her the unwanted, unmolded piece of glass. And he has every intention of reshaping her. But first he must break her.

It's not something that he enjoys really. He would rather see her shining, catching the light and have it reflect beautifully through her, making sense of her name as it should be, but it pains him to see such high class quality not being brought out to the best of its ability. It's rather selfish of him, just to satiate his own hunger and obsession, but he has to melt her and then mold her into the perfection she's meant to become.

He coaxes her, gently, elegantly, as it is befitting of a Murano masterpiece. His calloused hands caress her skin, her surface and he tries to peer deeper into her sense of self, to see what had gone wrong, what he could salvage. At first she is unyielding, too solid to ever warm up. But he is flame and he is fire and he is an Uchiha not known for giving up.

Slowly but surely Sasuke becomes her only anchor to reality, the only escape from her lonely glass room. She senses uneasily an intent but she's so tired of being cold and alone and he offers something she's never experienced before. Company and warmth. Confused and dreadfull, Hinata does not know what to make of his honey suckled tones and tender kisses. He's affectionate and obsessive with her smile and while she's unsettled at first, she soons grows used to it - depended even. He is the first to ever shower with unstoppable attention and praises that make her red and uncomfortable, for they are going against everything she has ever known herself to be. He's breaking down her walls one by one.

At first she had resisted, had become cold and angry. She had tried to keep fighting him off, but how can you resist gentleness and kindness and adoration, especially when she had been deprived of them for so long. But something inside her heats up and starts to break and shatter and then despair settles in the pit of her stomach and she needs something to hold on to. Even if it is in the form of devouring black eyes.

Sasuke realizes the moment of victory when he looks into her glass pearly eyes. He holds her close, kisses her mouth and starts spreading fire deep into her core. Into her very sense of herself.

She melts into his arms. It has taken him months of persuasion, of slight heated actions of skin against skin, but now the core of her burns at the sight of him and he is coursing like a lava inside her veins, under her skin, making her hot and so easy to mend into his vision. Her breath is labored and hot against him and he knows now that this is what he has been waiting for all this time. This moment here, now when she's absolutely his for the taking, to make her into the masterpiece she was meant to be.

I love you.

Like a true glass master he shapes her.

She had once commented upon his guidance through herself that he was too strong for her to fully follow, that she was afraid she'd shatter in the end. But he was a genius and a possessive man so nothing in this world apart from him could ever truly touch her, let alone break her. There is no giving up, he reminds her and forces her to become more and more and more.

He overestimates himself. Truly she had become something the fools of the Konoha Fire could have never even hoped to catch a glimpse of. Their mousy heiress that everyone had written off as a piece of uncolored, ordinary glass, shines gloriously like a Somerso masterpiece, precious and unique and rare and layered with contradictions. But while he was busy molding her, making sure no crack appeared on her perfect surface when he was dipping her inside molten glass - inside herself, it had escaped his notice that her sense, the very materials she was made of, had shifted to become something else.

He'd turned her into a boro glass - hard glass. Of course, he would reason that for one matter to become something else entirely is simply unacceptable. He is not God, even though he wishes to become. He cannot have changed his soft glassed Hinata into a boro glassed Hyuuga. He had just turned her into a piece of art, worthy of her Murano{ - Hyuuga} texture. No one can escape its core.

He is soon informed of his mistake in the form of an enraged Hinata, cracking and shattering and breaking him through a wall with heavily chackra lidden fingers, all the while screaming that she in fact is not a fucking piece of glass. That she feels on her own and acts on her own and no one would be her master any more.

She is not a toy to be molded and played with for anyone's fucking whim.

He gazes at her with a sudden understanding, while his unnatural body kneads his flesh back, healing his wounds. He feels like Pygmalion, witnessing his own creation breath life and fire and shards of broken death. He hears despair again, but there is something else that did not exist previously. Something wild and feral and untamed. She feels like a woman.

He falls in love all over again.

That day he smashes all of his work to enormous, harmful pieces.

The day he broke her was glorious. She had taken her pieces of fine, common, hard, soft, trashy glass and stabbed him and made him bleed and beg and showed him that she is human, she is breakable, but she is also dangerous and is not steel, but she is not fragile porcelain as well and she can and will cut him hard enough to make sure he remembers till the day he dies. No one would mold her into any kind of perfection. Even if all her family could see were broken shards, when they'd tried to throw them out she had slain their fingers. Broken yes. But stronger because of it. She makes sure he understands, before giving herself to him again and again until all they breath is fire and broken deadly pieces of glass.

They melt together.

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