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bridgetotheskyyy · 25 days

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chapter five.

masterlist

Chapter summary: Your father arrives, the end of the month draws near, and you and Gaara hit some milestones . . .

Chapter warnings: 18+, smut (THATS RIGHT YOU GUYSS), lots of angst, physical sickness

Word count: 12k

A/N: full notes on ao3! Pls let me know if you find any errors tumblr hates me (and I hate tumblr <3333)

Read on ao3 here:

You knew it was him, though his back was to you. For you had been walking behind him all your life.

An entourage of personal guards surrounded your father. Cyclone. The strongest band of ninja from the Oasis village. All of them carried shields fashioned like scorpion pedipalps. Face masks covered all but their eyes. In the center was your father. The elders listened with rapt attention as he raconteured some epic story containing a dragon with arms outstretched and a stentorian voice. Baki sat among them, his eye shifting between you and Father. Neither Kankuro nor Temari were present yet.

“Ahh,” said Ebizo. “And here is Lord Kazekage now.”

Your father turned to see who had come, his eyes widening underneath the disk of his village head hat; they were devoid of the madness you were accustomed to seeing in them.

“(Y/n) …” Father ignored Gaara to marvel at you. He strolled, arms wide, to you. “My angel.”

He roped arms around you; you suppressed a flinch. He parted to caress your face. “I’ve been blind without the light of your smile,” he said.

“Father …” Your voice was high with hope. “I’ve … I’ve missed you.”

“Not nearly as much as I have missed you, my star.” His voice hadn’t been this gentle in addressing you since you were a child, lulled to sleep by the bounce of his knee. “How I managed in the dark, I will never know.”

Gaara bowed to him. “I have hoped to meet you for a very long time, Lord Boutoku.”

“Oh, son-in-law.” Your father strode toward Gaara, arms ready to embrace him. “You are the splitting image of the fourth Kazekage himself.”

He enveloped Gaara as everyone watched, not sure of what to say.

“Come,” Father urged. “There’s much to discuss.”

Your father’s Cyclone parted down the middle to admit the three of you. You followed Gaara to the table, but your father remained on his feet.

“It is a shame Lady Ikanago is absent,” Ebizo said. “She would have relished this the very most.”

“There will be more than enough time for me to become acquainted with the Sand’s dignitaries, surely,” your father said.

“Lord Boutoku was just telling us about the customs of your village,” Baki told you.

“Yes,” your father said. “Now —“

The door burst open. Temari and Kankuro came through.

“Don’t start without us —!”

“Kankuro, get off my foot —!”

“Ahh,” your father said, “and this must be Lord Kazekage’s eldest sister.”

Their eyes widened before they hastened to compose themselves, hands going behind their backs.

“Uh — yes.” Temari bowed. “A pleasure.”

“It’s very nice to see you again, Lord Boutoku,” Kankuro said.

“The feeling is mutual,” your father said. “Come, come. Now that we’re all here, we can discuss the wedding at last. But first.” Your father clapped his hands, and a servant knelt at his side, offering something in his hands. Your father took it to give to you. “Your mother made me promise to pass this on to you when the time came, and I infringe upon her memory if I withhold it from you a moment longer.”

A small velvet box. You opened it: a ring.

Your mother’s ring.

“It’s beautiful,” Gaara said.

You gawked at the miraculous rock for a few seconds longer before slowly raising your head to your father. He had loved no one in the world more than her. Hideo a close second (and you last, probably). Warmth blanketed over your entire being as Father squeezed your hand.

“I am sure Lord Kazekage had his own plans for securing a ring. I hope he does not mind,” he said, eyes soft on you.

“Not at all,” Gaara interjected. “The Oasis is very loyal to its traditions; I suspected something like this may happen.”

And he gently took the ring box from your hand as the members of the council watched, entranced by the sight of Gaara taking the ring from the box and sliding it over your finger.

You raised your hand to the light; the ring shone like a star he’d pricked from the sky just for your finger. You observed the scene, as if it had been plucked from one of your daydreams. Gaara before you, your father blessing it all, Kankuro, Temari, and Baki smiling.

“I’m … so happy,” You said, choked with emotion. “Thank you, Father, I — Thank you …!”

“What a blessed union,” Ebizo said. “Hopefully, Lord Boutoku will be open to answering a few of our questions?”

“Of course,” Father boomed. “Of course!”

Your father spoke of the traditions of your village. Dual colors were decided on, a mixture of the Sand’s beige with your village’s blue, along with the special foods that have become specialties in the Oasis. By the end, there was a layout for the reception, who would be coming and then seated where.

It was surprisingly fun for you. Temari had taken it upon herself to bring a binder to keep the information safe and at hand. You were waiting for your father to pause in the event of possible objections, but it obviously wasn’t necessary; the council was besotted with your father, hanging on his every word as he circled the council’s oval table as though lecturing them.

“Now,” Father sighed dramatically with a pat of his thigh, “if the council would oblige me, the trip here was excessive, and I am not as young as I used to be …”

“Of course,” Ryusa said. “A period of rest is warranted now.”

A Sand guard appeared by Gaara’s side to whisper, “It’s time, Lord Kazekage.”

Gaara nodded as you frowned, confused. It hit you: Matsuri.

“Gaara,” You murmured. “I want to come. I know this will be hard for you.”

“And I would like you to be with us.” Gaara lowered his head. “But perhaps it’s better for you to stay and reconnect with your father.”

A few seconds and you said, “Okay.”

“And,” Gaara smiled, “perhaps excise a few details?”

You chuckled. “Will do.”

You gave Gaara’s arm a reassuring squeeze before he raised from his seat, Kankuro and Temari following him.

“I’ll send one of them to tell you how things went,” Gaara said.

You nodded and watched the three of them leave. By the time you turned your attention back to the council, it was disbanding. Your father came to you.

“I finally have you to myself, my dove,” he said. “Lord Kazekage has fixed me with my own quarters. Come along. We have much to talk about.”

You didn’t know what to expect as you entered your father’s private room. Similar to yours, save for the luxuries yours didn’t possess (which, you were sure, was Temari’s doing in an effort to impress him). A fireplace crackled in the quiet space, dousing amber light on the sitting room floor as the curtains were drawn. Two plush loveseats faced each other, separated by a rug and a coffee table. A large bed sectioned off in the corner.

Your father followed you in, Chuuyou on his tail.

“These knees.” Your father sank into a couch with a pained sigh. “Never get old, (Y/n). Promise me that.”

“I promise,” You said simply to obey.

“Chuuyou.” Father turned to him. “I applaud you for protecting my daughter, as you have. You have made both your village and head proud.”

“Thank you, my lord.” Chuuyou bowed his head, both out of respect and, though he could not hide it from you, to conceal his guilty expression.

He’s still thinking about the beach.

Seconds passed in silence. You sat across from Father, feeling as though it was what he was waiting for, and remained stock still. Another sigh from him. He appeared aged in a way he never had to you before.

“Despite all my orders,” he said after a century, “you still have not tried to poison him.”

Oh no. You balled your fists in your lap. You shrank into yourself, desperate to make yourself smaller.

“I’m sorry.” You hung your head. “I’m sorry I disobeyed, I … I just couldn’t.”

“… Thank the gods.”

You looked up. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I have been rash.” Father ran a hand over his face. “There is more benefit to you marrying the Kazekage than there could ever be in disposing of him.”

“But …” Hope, once again, sat tentatively inside of you, unsure of its place in this conversation. “What about Hideo?”

There it was — the insane look common in your father’s eye rushed into his irises, all for it to disappear as quickly as it had come. Father lowered his gaze, his entire being depressed and deflated, and for a moment you felt the full weight of your father’s losses like it was yours. And in a way, it was.

“I have lost a great deal, by living in the past,” your father said. “I refuse to lose anything else … It was a mistake to send you here under such nefarious pretenses.”

“Father …” You were so quick to tears lately and now was no different. You couldn’t believe it. Relief and sympathy raised within you. The vice, wrapped around your heart always, fell away.

“Just tell me one thing,” he said, looking up at you finally. “Do you think you may come to love him?”

You thought, now, of Gaara, and the unobstructed path that now led to him.

“Yes.”

Matsuri was relocated to the Sunagakure prison later that day. Multiple accounts of her espousing her jealousy and displeasure of Gaara’s imminent marriage to you had reached a variety of ears, and, with all the evidence against her and no more cards to play, her guilt was obvious.

In the midst of all of this, all you wanted to do was go to Gaara — to be there for him and because, freed from your bond of violence, you ached for him — but you fought against it. Surely what he needed now was time to breathe. Despite knowing so little of her, you knew Matsuri had been his student, and to watch her fall into treason due to personal feelings had to be traumatic.

You just wanted to be out of the way. You couldn’t shake the feeling this was partially your fault to begin with. You kept to your room, unsure of what to do with all this free time and lack of anxiety. You couldn’t believe you were free. You admired the little piece of sky sparkling on your finger. You only had the slightest recollections of your mother wearing it as she held you, tending to your tiny body and needs.

You held your ring finger with a tenderness mirroring hers, sat at your windowsill as evening sighed into night, the soft whistling of the wind brushing past a village at peace, when a knock ripped you from your reverie.

You straightened. “Come in.”

You expected a maid who’d come to tell you dinner was ready, but —

“Are you all right?”

You startled. Gaara shut the door behind him, never taking his eyes off you, and let himself into your room. He was without his Kage robes, dressed in his trench coat.

“Gaara,” You said, astonished. A pause.

“I’ve not seen you all day.”

“I thought it best to stay away,” You said. “Are you all right?”

His eyes rounded with clarity. “You’ve heard.”

“Maids like to gossip.”

He was quiet for a second. He looked away. “It is done.”

“I am so sorry.” You removed yourself from the window seat and crossed the room to him. You folded your arms, having it awkward to have them simply dangle there, and you weren’t sure if Gaara would like to be touched.

Gaara’s head hung still. He looked so aggrieved, tiredness lining his face.

“What happened?” You asked carefully.

“There was an abundance of evidence,” Gaara began. “The elders were especially hard on her. Matsuri cried a great deal.” His hands clenched at his sides. “She kept saying it wasn’t her and that she’d been framed, yet there was nothing she could do or say to defend herself.”

You sat on your bed. “Sit with me,” You said, patting the space beside you.

When he did, he continued: “I forgive her.” Gaara turned to you. “Please do not let this taint your view of who she is. She is still a very talented and gifted shinobi.”

“I won’t.” You shook your head. Despite the anger you felt for Matsuri at the last meeting with the council, it had long since passed, and all you felt was a hollowness for the man beside you, his aggrieved bewilderment your own.

Gaara gazed into his lap, invisible brows furrowed by sorrow. “I … am still perplexed as to how this could have happened … Matsuri … But I also know love is a powerful force that can make people act contrary to themselves.” His hand inched toward yours, resting on your lap. “I know because … though I felt sympathy for Matsuri, I feel as though my heart wasn’t with her.” He looked up at you. “It was with you.”

“Gaara …” You held his hand. You were beyond flattered, and, with the new conditions you were under, you felt you could really lean into the reserved but true affection Gaara was giving you. You, now, lived in the serene turquoise of his eyes as the faintest of smiles crossed his face.

“I wanted to return to you to be by your side. All I could think about was you today, and the ring … Our future.” He rose from the bed, your hand still in his. “Come. There is something I’d like to show you.”

“Of course,” You said, curiosity lilting your voice.

Gaara led you down hallways. You realized you had never been to this area of the palace before. It was a more secluded part of the palace, quieter; nothing but a simple vase potting an enormous plant by the new, mysterious doorway you were led through.

He led you to a door, and all clicked into place for you.

His room. Gaara’s room.

At that moment, you realized you had never actually been to Gaara’s room. You couldn’t even tell anyone where it was in the palace. Sweat pressed against your palms. Warm light filled the room, but it was bare save for a simple wooden desk, a lamp, a bed, a carpet — but what caught your attention was the collection of cacti on the desk.

Definitely Gaara’s room.

He let you in first and you heard him close the door behind him as you took it in with a small smile.

You turned to him. “What do you want me for?”

“I invited you here because I wished to see you in private,” Gaara said. “I want to be alone with you. I’ve …missed having you by my side since the tent. I’ve never had anyone so close to me for so long.” Color came to Gaara’s cheeks. “As a couple,” he began, approaching you, “we should be sharing a room — and a bed.”

You turned to it, conspicuously wide enough for the two of you. You stared. Nothing was keeping you from Gaara now.

“Then perhaps we should make it truly ours.”

Gaara searched your face, your meaning lost on him, as you approached.

This time, you kissed him.

You cupped the back of his head, where crimson hair ran between your fingers. When Gaara reciprocated, your legs weakened, but he kept you steady with all the strength with which you’d been familiarized.

You had not realized your feet were moving backwards until the slight jab at the back of your knees.

With a whimper, you fell backward. Gaara quickly caught you. You sat on the bed, scooting away from him, which he took as a beckon to follow. You sighed when your head pressed into the pillows. Gaara blanketed your body with his, his lips possessing yours a second time.

You moaned, opened your mouth for his tongue to come play with yours. You welcomed the pressure of his body on top of you, your hands once again losing themselves in his hair as he flicked and nibbled against your lips.

“Show me,” Gaara moaned against your jawline, his tone raw and commanding as your hands scaled his back. “Show me everything from the books. I want to know everything.”

“That could take a while,” You hummed, your lips parting as he nibbled at your flushed skin. But we have time. We have all the time in the world.

“Then you should start now.” Gaara nibbled on your neck. Your heels dug into his calves as his wet tongue swept over the vulnerable skin.

You fumbled, pulling yourself out from under Gaara to work your shirt over your head, grappling with the deja vu you felt as you tossed it aside. You couldn’t wait. You couldn’t. Gaara awkwardly fumbled with the buttons of his trench coat until you assisted.

So many layers. You shed your pants away, now down to your underwear. You had never let another see you this naked before, let alone nude, besides your maids, and there were no secrets amongst women. But somehow, you were not nervous as you unhooked your bra. Gaara’s motions had stilled to a stop. Flutters went straight to your cunt with the way his eyes scanned you, hungry, as it slowly unfolded before him.

Your panties hung around one bare ankle when Gaara brushed a hand over your leg. He hooked fingers under your panties to pull them away himself and onto the floor.

“I want to touch you.” His tone was impossibly husky, low. His hand traveled from your leg to your inner thigh.

You laid back down for him. You were completely bare for him now, you realized, as his eyes roved hungrily over your naked flesh. Gaara’s head settled over your chest, pressing kisses against the valley of your breast, one hand preoccupied with your nipple —

“Mm …!” You arched into him. Gaara’s teeth grazed against another nipple. His curious tongue swirled against the rising bud. You heard the buckles of his uniform unfastening as your head sunk in the pillows, and you knew he was in the midst of shedding the remainder of his gear as he busied with your breasts. His naked skin pressed against your thighs. Your cunt throbbed, maddening you to be touched.

Thankfully, Gaara’s curiosity worked in your favor; his lips traveled down your skin, brushing over a nipple before sliding past the bones of your ribcage. His hands hooked over the fat of your thighs, the soft brush of your pubic hair grazing his chin.

“I remember, in the books …” Gaara’s thumb gently spread one lip, your juices surely leaking over. “The man tastes the woman. I want to taste you, too.”

Your heart skipped; Gaara’s hot breath hit your lips. “He licks up the valley of her lips …” .

You gasped. You realized what he was doing; he was quoting Icha Icha.

His lips flicked experimentally at your folds. You flinched, a knee knocking his head.

He paused to examine you. “Does it feel good?”

“Yes, Gaara …” You gripped one of Gaara’s shoulders to compel him forward, excitement causing you to flutter. “It feels so good …”

Not needing to be told twice, he sank down, gave your folds a series of licks. You could feel him pause to taste your juices before starting again.

“Good …” he murmured. “So good … If I’d known …”

“Keep going …!”

You lost a hand in his hair. Gaara was eating you. It was unreal. His hot breath on your lips, his open palms spreading your thighs open, was something right out of your wildest dreams. He ate you gently, experimenting with this new territory that was you. You were more than happy to oblige, spreading your legs wider to become more accessible to him in a way you have never been with any man before him. You gripped the sheets at his sudden kisses, the unsuspected swipes of his tongue. His fingers gently spread and kneaded at your labia, exploring you and overstimulating you in the process.

Gaara came up, accidentally brushing a nose against your clit —

You cried out. You pressed him into your cunt. A quick learner, he tested the tip of his tongue against the nub, coaxing another series of moans from you. Your eyes doubled back as he latched on to your clit, the suction of his lips driving you wild.

You writhed underneath him. Your hands rubbed over his hands as he lapped up your juices.

“Oh — use — Gaara, you have to use your — your fingers, oh!”

Gaara paused momentarily, as though something had occurred to him.

“She welcomed his fingers like old friends into her heat …”

You felt his thumb brush against your folds. It pressed farther in until it breached the entrance of your hole.

“Gaara …!” You pulled at his hair.

He grunted but did nothing to stop you, teasing your entrance with his thumb as his tongue swirled around your clit. Your legs trembled, your back arching off the bed and into his willing mouth. Your juices seeped past the fat of your behind, only for Gaara to reach down to collect it with his tongue.

His breath quickened as he replaced his thumb with a finger, pressing it in —

“Ahh! Ha—aha!” A familiar tightness was tormenting your abdomen. Close, close. You tried to think through your haze; if you could just get him to … “Another, please, and — and curl them up, oh —“

“I will …!”

He obeyed with a soft growl, adding another finger into your slippery heat. Your strangled breath coincided with his fingers sinking in. So full, but not enough. You ached for more, bucking your hips in desperation. As instructed, he brought his fingers up in beckoning —

“Aah!”

Gaara’s tongue returned to your clit, curling his fingers again and again, your juices seeping, slipping past his digits. You rocked into his fingers, finding a rhythm with him.

He sucked and kissed your clit, fingers beckoning one final time —

You cried out, clutching at him with both hands. You clenched over his fingers, the walls around them becoming rougher and tighter as your climax came. You shuddered, biting your lip. Gaara was not stopping, inciting wave after wave through you until you plateaued. Pleasure crashed back down around you, forcing you limp against the bed.

“Gaara!” You warned, pushing him away. “Stop, stop! I — I can’t —!”

Immediately, he pulled his mouth and fingers away. You fell to your side, squeezing your legs. You panted, face hot, and in your haze wondered, in the future, if he would do this to you: edge you without realizing — or maybe on purpose? Finger and fuck your poor insides to make you a fumbling mess, as long as it was what you liked. If you told him, he would do it …

A second or so more and Gaara’s hand brushed against your elbow. “Was that all right?”

You turned over your shoulder to look at him, stars in your eyes. “Incredible.” You twisted to face him, kissing his lips, tasting and smelling yourself on him.

It wasn’t long before you were throbbing again, desperate for more contact. Your overactive imagination made it so. He embraced you in the kiss, his warm cock poking at you. You broke the kiss, panting as you brushed him aside to admire him.

You salivated at the sight of him. Your dream to have him twitching and dripping his seed down your mouth was not gone, but … but you couldn’t wait any longer.

Besides, there would be more time for that.

“I need you inside of me,” You said.

He seemed to understand. You laid back down for him to topple you. Visions of the future — you topping him, bouncing atop his cock, swallowing his seed from under his table— filled your mind. Many fantasies that had already been revisited during your alone times. There would be so much time now. You just needed him.

You helped him position himself. Your excited cunt clenched around nothing in anticipation. You bit your lip as his cockhead brushed against your entrance.

“You will tell me,” Gaara began, both an assumption and an order, “if anything hurts.”

You nodded hastily, clinging to his arms. “Of course.”

“Good,” he said, “because I may not be able to stop.”

His cock slid into you, filling you in ways you couldn’t have imagined. You clung to him, nails digging into his forearms as he filled you to capacity.

You nestled in the crook of his neck. “Gaara …”

Pain gave way to pleasure as Gaara succumbed to a thrust. Your head whirled with the novel sensations. The pain was alien but not immense. You stifled stammers out of fear they might encourage him to stop.

Under no circumstances could he stop.

Another thrust —

“Mmfm!” You threw your head back. Gaara’s lips crashed into yours as he moved against you, slapping his hips into yours.

You bit into his neck this time, nibbling at the hickeyed skin soon to bruise there. Gaara’s hand found your clit by accident — and upon seeing your pleased reaction, fixed his hand there and circled it.

He grunted with pleasure as your legs involuntarily wrapped around his waist. His pants puffed into your skin as he pounded you. “Ti — tight …!”

The pain at your core mingled with the pleasure in a way that was strangely pleasant. Your lips part to emit a confused moan-whimper. You wanted more, demanded more. So enamored with Gaara’s plundering of your cunt and his sounds increasing in volume, you didn’t feel him flinch away until his cock had left you.

Gaara pulled away, a hand glued to his cock with eyes squeezed shut. White spent spilled over your inner thigh with a frustrated cry from Gaara. You watched, mesmerized, as ropes of come spilled from his slit and onto your beaded skin.

“Gaara …” You murmured, cunt squeezing around nothing.

He opened his eyes to mere darkened slits, panting as he observed his work.

“I’m — I’m sorry …” He began to come to his senses, realizing what he’d done. “I didn’t know …”

“It’s okay.” You swept his spent from your thigh with scoops of your finger, disposing of it on the fabric. “They’re just sheets.”

Gaara glanced up at you. “Yes, but you …?”

“It’s okay.” You inched toward him. “I can’t get you back up, don’t worry …”

You caressed his cock, now turning flaccid. Gaara took a sharp intake of breath as your grip grew firm. You ran your tongue over your bottom lip before pressing a soft kiss to his head. You tested the waters, taking him into your mouth slowly to see how he would react. Another kiss and swipe of your tongue —

“Nnrgh …” Gaara fisted the sheets.

You resisted a smirk as you drew back, eyes flickering up at him. “Good?”

“Yes …” His breathing had grown labored, no doubt due to the gentle strokes you spoiled his overstimulated shaft with.

You leaned forward to run your tongue over the ridge of his head, outlining the span of it with your tongue. Gaara’s short, nearly inaudible gasps spurred you on to trap his head between your lips and suck.

“Ah, hah-ah —“

You took in more of him, feeling the veins trailing his cock grow more prominent with each new inch into your mouth. You grazed your fingertips over his balls as you dared another inch, hollowing your cheeks to serve his twitching cock.

“All right.” Gaara’s hand laid on your shoulder. “Enough — enough.”

You obeyed and released him with a pop. He was near fully erect now, his cock level with your face. You dug nails into your thigh. It had been so hard for you to resist tweaking your clit with him buried in your mouth.

“If you go on, I won’t last,” he explained.

You nodded and followed the gesture of his gaze back into bed. He returned to his rightful place above you.

“One day soon, I’ll be on top,” You rambled, cheeks red and hot, as Gaara repositioned himself above you. “I can’t imagine how good you’d feel.”

“That day will be today. I only want to get this right now,” Gaara said, and with the tiniest bit of fanfare, placed his head at the tight ring of your cunt and slid inside.

“Aah — AHAA!”

“You seemed to like this before,” Gaara said, voice raised with teasing tilt as he rolled two finger pads into your neglected clit, accompanying his play with deep, slow thrusts.

“Mm …!” You arched into him, your leg spasmed in his hold as he tapped at your clit, Gaara’s fingers dangerously close to where his cock and your opening met. “Gaara!”

“That’s it,” he said. “That’s what I want to hear.” His thrusts quickened inchmeal, but a simple step felt like a mile. “I won’t be a novice for long, (Y/n). I’ll learn everything.”

He slapped a hard thrust into you and stayed there, your hips to his.

“I’ll make you feel everything,” he said as your head fell back into the disarrayed pillows.

You clenched him hard without meaning to. He had to stop talking, otherwise … The encouragement of your cunt was enough to make Gaara rock into you, lustful grunts sounding above you. You closed your and looped arms around his; his clit play would not stop; three fingers tweaked and circled your clit now, your pleasure mounting.

“She finds herself at the peak of climax, and he would be the one to deliver it to her …!”

With a loud moan, you clenched around him tighter and relished the startled moan he gave. His frown rested against your forehead. He seemed to be battling both with the pleasure he felt and the struggle to understand you, how this was possible. Your clit fixed between his two fingers, driving you mad as he filled you again and again with his cock.

Tightness gripped you again, and you knew were you were close. Gaara’s hand abandoned your calf to knead at your breast, eyes closed as he lost himself in you.

“I — I’m …” he panted. “Again …!”

Gaara’s cock twitched inside of you. Close. How could he not be? You knew this wouldn’t last long, even with the help of your mouth. Your mind blared white, bright with the idea of Gaara coming so deep inside of you —

“Ahah …” Your vision gave you another pleasured throb you didn’t need. “Gaara …!”

Stupid, stupid. You couldn’t let him, you couldn’t —

But you wanted it. Wanted him. You gripped on to him tighter. “Do it,” You ordered. “Do it, I want you — want —“

Yet as he slammed into you one final time and the warmth of his come filled you, you could do nothing but hold him closer and take it. His fingers tormented you, the stimulation sending you over the edge as well.

Gaara pulled out, and you felt the slick of his seed seep from your hole onto the sheets. You moaned, clenching around his spent.

So good …

“Amazing …” he remarked, eyes on your drooling cunt.

You tried to wade through the pleasure thrumming through you to understand your mistake, but couldn’t. The after-sex buzz proved too profound. You could hardly register it as a mistake at all, what with how good you felt, pleasurable aches simmering underneath your flushed skin. You dragged Gaara close for another kiss.

Once released, Gaara said, “I’ve never experienced this level of closeness with anyone …” He wrapped arms around you. He lowered his gaze to your beaded clavicle while you played with the damp ends of his rustled hair. “It is strange, but wonderful, too.”

“Neither have I.” You grinned. He’s so grateful. You admired the light smile that came to Gaara’s face. “Was I good?”

Gaara glanced up. “Is it possible for someone not be to be good?”

You couldn’t discern your blush from the natural post-coitus flush you had. “It’s possible.” You wished you hadn’t said it; Gaara’s brows knit together, his eyes wandering with thoughts. Apparently, you’d given him a new worry. “But you were amazing,” You hastened to add.

His expressions softened. “Good. I’m glad.” He watched you pepper his hand and arms with kisses. “I want to be as good as the men in the books.”

“I think you’ve already achieved that, my love.”

Gaara nestled closer to you in the sheets. His hand flexed — open, close — as you left a kiss on his green veins. “Do we need to stop?” Gaara asked.

You met his eye, your mind drunk with him.

“No,” You said and pulled him forward — for the two of you to be pulled under.

You had very little appetite at breakfast, your mind still enamored with the previous events that had come to pass.

Gaara was, of course, not at breakfast; tending to sensitive Kazekage duties was of the utmost importance. So instead, you choose to eat with Kankuro and Temari.

Gaara had quite the … stamina. You were sure you had looked like murder for the rest of the night; bed hair and wild eyes as you walked Gaara through all the things you had only read about and heard from other noble ladies. Aches you fought to keep discreet restricted a lot of your movements.

The sounds of Gaara’s soft pants and whispers of praise were still in your ear long after they had faded into time. Warmth spread through your cheeks as you stared idly at the water remaining in your glass, looking but not seeing.

“So close, (Y/n) —“

“You feel amazing —“

“Don’t make me stop —“

“(Y/n)? (Y/n)!”

Temari tore you from your reverie, the images of last night turning to watercolor in your mind.

“Watch the salt,” she said, pointing to your plate.

You looked down to see your hand pouring a hill of salt on your fish. You sighed, put it away and shoveled the hill from your plate.

“I’m going to give a speech at the wedding,” Kankuro said, mind made up.

“I think that’s a great idea.” Temari sipped her tea. “Just as long as you tell me what you’re going to say.”

“What?” Kankuro crossed his arms indignantly. “You don’t trust me?”

“Oh, I wonder why, Mr. psychoactive cactus man?”

Kankuro sighed in defeat as you giggled. “All right, fine,” he replied.

“Do you have anything written?” You asked, desperate for something to cling to so you might live in the present.

Kankuro shrugged. “Not yet. I’m not as good with words as Gaara.”

“Nonsense!” You playfully slapped him on the shoulder. “I’m sure whatever you say will be lovely. You’ve got to let me read.”

Kankuro held up his pinkie. “Promise.”

“I hope Lord Boutoku’s quarters are to his satisfaction,” Temari said as you wrapped your pinkie around Kankuro’s. “We wanted only the best to make him comfortable.”

So it was her. You smiled. “He’s doing well. Thank you, Temari.”

“No problem!”

Better than well, actually; your father had returned to a softer version of himself, ordering servants to and fro and requesting to be served all of his meals in bed. You resisted an eye-roll, thinking about the prima donna that he was. As long as he was happy, you supposed.

“All right, I’m outta here.” Temari set aside a napkin and rose from her seat. “Long day today.”

“With what, exactly?”

“Lady Ikanago has requested details about Lord Boutoku’s arrival, and I said I’d go fill her in,” Temari explained.

“Gonna grab her some painkillers for that hip, too?”

Temari threw a bun at Kankuro’s head, which he aptly caught and bit into.

“Or maybe some purple pandemonium.” Temari snickered as Kankuro blanched. She left her chair. “So long, you two.”

You waved goodbye to her and returned to your breakfast, humming quietly before taking a sip of your water —

“So,” Kankuro began. “You and my little brother sure had fun last night, didn’t you —?”

— You spit out your water.

“Wha — what?” You dabbed yourself frantically with a napkin.

Kankuro’s laughter shook his shoulders, the bun becoming clearly too heavy to hold under the weight of the mirth.

“How do you —“ Your mind went to wild places. “He didn’t tell you —?”

“Are you kidding?” Kankuro said. “Of course not. He’d never; he’s ever bit the gentleman he seems.”

“Then …” You looked around helplessly. “Then how …?”

Kankuro tapped a finger on his temple. “A brother knows these things; I got a good look at him earlier this morning.” He took another bite out of his now crescent moon of a bun and added with a mouth full, “plus, the two of you are such virgins — all dazed and bashful. If this is you trying to hide it, then the whole village will know.”

“Oh, gods.” You hid in your soup. You had passed out long before Gaara and had woken up in his bed without him in it, accompanied only by a simple note telling you Kazekage duties had pulled him away and to go back to sleep full of good dreams.

Kankuro chuckled. “Don’t sweat it. Nobody heard anything.”

“That’s not helping me to not sweat.”

“It’s okay!” Kankuro couldn’t stop grinning. “Really! I’m glad of it.” He shook his head, his smile not having died. “I was worried it’d never happen for him, my poor little brother.”

You groaned, elbow supporting your weight as you ran a hand over your face. “Does Temari know?”

“You’re still alive,” Kankuro said, “so no.”

That earned a little dry laugh from you, a spark of mirth, and it was gone. You looked up through a crack in your fingers. “He looked happy this morning when you saw him, right?”

Kankuro’s expression sobered a bit as he looked into your worried face. “Of course.”

You sighed, relieved.

Kankuro scooped another egg onto his plate. “You gonna go see if he’s still happy?”

“He’s busy.” Both your arms folded on the table. You looked out the window at the faraway blue sky. “I don’t want to bother him.”

In truth, you had no idea what you were supposed to do after sex. Icha Icha was coming up dry on that front; the couples usually lazed in bed or fell asleep together and the time skips gave you no idea what was meant to happen the day after.

“You’re too timid, sis.” Kankuro reached over and pinched your cheek as you grumbled. “Don’t worry about that; we bug him all day with little things. He always says he doesn’t mind. Breaks up the monotony of the day.”

You smiled to yourself. “I don’t know …”

“Both of you think too much,” Kankuro said. “Do you even think last night would have happened if my brother was so sensitive to everything you did? Stop worrying.”

You chuckled. “Okay, okay. I’ll go myself.”

“That a girl.”

You straightened your back as you neared Gaara’s office. Despite your nerves, you did want to see him again.

“Do I look all right, Chuuyou?” You asked.

He blinked, as though surprised you would expect a reasonable answer about fashion from a shinobi. “The skirt complements your legs very well, my lady.”

You nodded, assured. You had opted for your precious fishnets again, with wedged sandals and a skirt to soften their effect. Would everything be different post-coitus? For better or worse? You let yourself into his office.

“Gaara?” You sweetened your voice as the door creaked open.

Two other Sand ninjas flanked Gaara’s desk. Their heads raised when you entered. You met Gaara’s eye immediately, who stiffened upon seeing you.

“Hello, gentlemen,” You said. “I would like a minute alone with my fiancée.”

The ninja exchanged glances. You watched in mild amusement as they obeyed without a word from Gaara and exited.

“They are instructed to listen to you now as well,” Gaara said as the door closed, reading the question on your face. “I thought it appropriate, as you will be a part of my family from now on.”

Butterflies fluttered in your chest as you strode to his desk. You will be a part of my family. You admired your cactus gift now present atop it, now the parent of two tiny succulents flanking either sides of it.

“I apologize for leaving so abruptly,” Gaara said. “My responsibilities as Kazekage …”

“No!” You dismissed him with a nervous laugh. “Don’t apologize, it was nothing.”

“I never would have left you for anything less imperative,” Gaara said while shuffling papers.

Gaara’s fingers grazed yours as they ghosted the wood of the desk. And, upon instinct, you crossed the desk to him. He stared ahead. Rose-colored the pale in his face as he set aside a folder.

“Last night was … all right?”

“That’s a bit of an understatement.” You looped a finger around one of his. “Funny. I was going to ask you the same.”

“Nonsense.” Gaara’s grip grew firmer on your hand. “You were — are — everything a man could ask for.”

You lowered your gaze sheepishly, not knowing what to say to that.

Gaara gave an affirmative nod. “Good. At any rate, there is still much I wish for you to teach me.” He opened a drawer. You gawked at his collection of Icha Icha novels.

“You keep these in here?”

“They don’t interfere with work, I assure you.”

“I could’ve sworn I taught you enough last night!”

“Perhaps for one night,” Gaara said, “but not indefinitely.”

You giggled as he rose to admire you. A gentle smile narrowed his eyes. Gaara’s thumb brushed the side of your face. He left a kiss on your forehead.

Gaara …

“I intend to spend more time with you once my work is done,” Gaara said as he parted from you.

“I understand,” You said and, feigning tiredness, you added, “and in the meantime, I guess I’ll look to see what my father is up to.”

Gaara nodded wordlessly. You pet his hand, not quite through with the feel of his touch, before waving goodbye to him before leaving the office.

You might as well have been walking on pure air; there was nothing tethering you to the earth. Nothing at all.

The end of the month began to draw near. You, your father, and Gaara were in talks about how the two villages would intersect from now on. Father was willing to split his Cyclone down the middle and gift you some of the members, but you weren’t too sure. There were certain classified documents he promised you could now read and, if you deemed it wise, share with Gaara. Those you were more interested in; if you could assist in the coming together of your two villages in any way, that was how you wanted to occupy your time. The diplomacy enthralled you.

But it wasn’t because you didn’t appreciate the effort; Father hadn’t been this warm toward you since the days before your mother had died. It made you feel precious to see him grow incensed about the attack at the beach. You had to suppress laughter when he promised he would send his best to hang your attacker at a town square, slice him into pieces (whatever suited his mood that day) until you steered him on to a different subject. You often had your breakfasts with him now, where he either asked you about your days with Gaara’s family or reminisced about the good old days of being a shinobi (whenever those were, but you knew better than to interject).

And, of course, there was the ever-elusive oasis.

You asked Father if he had told Gaara anything about your village’s greatest secret, but his answers were always vague. Supposedly, he was saving the juiciest information for last.

“He’s told me nothing,” Gaara said during one breakfast Father hadn’t roped you into, “and I think it’s because I haven’t asked. I don’t wish to seem too eager.”

“Well, they can have it,” Temari had said, twirling her fork. “I’m not really that curious about some puddle of water in the middle of the desert — no offense,” she added to you with an apologetic flash of a smile. “I just care about how much of a precedent this will set for other villages we’ve rivaled with.”

“Temari’s right,” Baki said before turning to Gaara. “Excellent deduction skills, Lord Kazekage; we wouldn’t want to make Lord Boutoku uncomfortable with our inquiries. The council is doing more than enough of that on their own.”

Kankuro, you noticed, had been strangely silent on the matter.

You and Gaara were sharing a room now, which you were sure was some kind of symbolic metaphor. You had few possessions to move in besides things that were left in your closet; the clothes you had brought with you to Sunagakure, the clothes you’d bought with Temari, simple knick knacks. Gaara was more than liberal with his personal space and seemed to welcome the intrusion.

You woke one morning — ready to retch. You tore the sheets off of you and sprinted to the bathroom. You ducked your head in the toilet and vomited until you dry-heaved.

You collapsed to the side with a groan. You wiped your mouth and flushed it away.

“Are you all right, my lady?” one of the servants asked, her voice muffled through the closed door.

“I’m — I’m fine!” You rubbed your chest, stiff and aching from the retching.

What was this all about? You hadn’t eaten anything out of the ordinary? In fact, you’d barely eaten anything at all the past few days. Nothing beyond what was necessary to sustain you. Your mind had been on things far more urgent than food. How could you —

A sharp, cold chill ran over you.

No … it can’t be.

… It could.

Leaving out your first night with Gaara, the others had been … extensive. And sorely lacking in protection.

Oh. Oh —

“Damn you, Jiraiya-sensei!” You hissed as you scampered to your feet.

This wasn’t supposed to happen! His characters never used protection! What a fantasy!

But you should’ve known better, after all the stories noble women had shared with you about their accidental pregnancies. Some had even fallen pregnant on their cycle. All of these cautionary tales had impelled the younger ones to be more careful. You had not been careful.

You were pregnant.

Your head spun as you faced yourself in the mirror, ready to … you didn’t know. Laugh maniacally? Cry? Be … happy?

Happy?

You brushed a hand over your belly. Could it be possible you were growing life there at that very moment? Your child? Gaara’s child? You would be a mother? All of these casualties formed chaotic webs inside your mind, one string falling after the last. Your overactive brain flashed images of you and Gaara and children that looked like both of you. A family. A proper family …

Worry was replaced with rising elation, like a morning sun coming to bring clarity. What if you were pregnant? Wouldn’t it be a good thing? And the wedding … no one would ever know you had gotten pregnant before; in no way would you start showing before the time came.

Who would you tell? Who could you tell? Temari? Would she be upset with you?

You wished, more than anything, to have your mother.

She would know what to do. You felt a strange kinship with her suddenly; was this what it was like for her when she had discovered her pregnancy? Your mind went a mile a minute. You knew who you could tell.

Finally, you stepped out of the bathroom to see serving ladies and Chuuyou looking concerned.

“I’m fine, really!” You assured. Your mind was made up. “Chuuyou.”

“Yes, my lady?” his soothing voice hit your ear.

“I need to see my father.”

“Ahh, and if it isn’t my favorite daughter.”

Chuuyou stepped aside so you could enter your father’s room. The windows were drawn to let in the morning sun. Tendrils of steam curled into the air from his teacup. All of this was contradicted by him fanning himself on one of the couches.

“Hello, Father,” You greeted.

“Come, come.” He centered the tray on the table.”And to what do I owe this early meeting? I wasn’t expecting to see you for a few hours more.”

“Well, uh.” You watched your father’s hands dance around the tea. He poured you a cup and offered it to you. You accepted it with a tight smile. “I have something to tell you.”

Father sipped his tea. “I’m all ears.”

“Well …” You lowered your gaze to your mug, the steam heating your chin. “I woke up feeling sick this morning —“

“Oh, don’t tell me.” Father snapped his fan closed with a chuckle. “You inherited your weak stomach from your mother. Shame, shame. The woman was my entire world, but the poor thing could be so —“

“I think I may be pregnant.”

…

Breeze whipped the curtain hems with a howl. Chuuyou seemed to take in a sharp breath in the corner, unseen by you; You only had eyes for Father. He’d become a statue, facing you without seeing.

“Pregnant?” Father’s voice was hushed, low. “You’re sure?”

“We — well, I’m not entirely sure.” You twiddled your fingers. “I haven’t done any tests, but it’s a possibility …” You cleared your throat, lowering your gaze. “Highly possible. I was sick this morning, and I’ve never felt anything like that before. We can visit the infirmary together to be sure —“

“You stupid girl.”

You glanced up — hot tea seared your face.

You screamed, hands flying to your face as you doubled over to the sound of china shattering.

“Chuuyou!” Father roared, “close the curtains!”

You collapsed on the floor, still holding your face. Every part of your face burned, hot and horrible. You wailed. Curtains rustled. A hand seized the hem of your shirt to hoist you to your feet.

“Get up — GET UP — look at me!” Father snarled, shaking you.

You obeyed with a frightened whimper. Your blurred vision of Father struggled to focus in the darkness. “Father — father, please —!”

“What did I ever do for the gods to curse me with you?” he yanked you closer. “I’ve been as patient as possible, but this? I am so sick of your whorish ways!”

“Father, fath —!”

“Chuuyou told me everything about your filthy little tryst with the Kazekage in his greenhouse,” Father hissed, hot breath close to your face. “Why do you think I’m here —!?”

He tossed you. You were a fool to think the couch would meet you; your back collided with the hard ground. You stumbled, fumbling away on the wet floor on wobbling hands and feet as Father advanced.

“Did you think I would be overjoyed to see you married off to our greatest enemy? Stupid girl!” He picked up another tea cup and threw it at your head. You dodged with a shriek and it split apart at the wall.

You gasped, clutching at the wall. Something came to light in your head, wedged by the horror. The greenhouse … You glanced at Chuuyou. At the same moment, he met your eye.

You had been alone with Gaara in the greenhouse. But you were never alone, not really. And Baki had been assured by his own informants the two of you hadn’t been seen. But you had been seen. But not by Matsuri. By someone who was always watching, for you had your guardian, your supposed protector.

Your shadow.

“It was you …” You whispered. “You spread the word about the greenhouse …”

Chuuyou lowered his gaze. “Yes …”

“You told him!” You pointed to Father, a set of dominoes toppling in your mind. “You set up Matsuri!”

He closed his eyes.

“Yes,” he muttered. “Once I realized you were truly falling in love with the Kazekage, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I left your side at times I knew you wouldn’t notice or care, and assured there were two Matsuris when there should have been one. I had a clone of her visit a gossip columnist in the village. I knew it would cause a scandal.” He bowed his head. “And it did.”

You shook your head, the level of scheming overwhelming to wrap your head around. “How could you?”

And one of Gaara’s closest? His precious student, of all people? But, with a sickening feeling in your stomach unrelated to the fetus growing there, you began to understand: It would appear as though Gaara was a leader, a Kage, who did not have his house in order, who could not control those closest to him. An unstable house was one easy to topple. How he must have felt in the desert, when morning had come and Gaara was still alive.

“The Sand must be defeated, My Lady —“

“Do not call me that!” You shrieked. “You have no right to call me that!”

“This village is duplicitous, it is evil!” Chuuyou went on. “All the years of humiliation, of oppression ― it cannot be undone by something so cynical as a political marriage! They must pay for the pain they have caused us.”

“You helped to sully Gaara’s reputation to spread doubt in the council.” You felt you might retch again. “To strengthen the factions already against him.”

“His reputation has already been sullied. He is a monster — he was born on —“

“And my reputation, Chuuyou?” You murmured, your heart breaking even more than you thought it could, thought it capable. “What about mine?”

Chuuyou opened his eyes only to cast his gaze to the floor, shame keeping him from lifting his chin.

“You were supposed to protect me …” Rage and sorrow toiled inside you. And he failed both times.

You felt dirty and depraved, deprived. Chuuyou, the one person you felt you could always trust even if his shadowing had been bothersome at times. But then … What kind of fool were you? Chuuyou had been chosen by your father, after all. Anyone imposed by him should have raised your alarm, should have cast doubt within you.

“The opinion of those living in the Sand will cease to matter once I have instilled myself as their ruler,” Father said. You had not forgotten he was there. You could never forget. “I was really hoping you would surprise me,” Father’s voice was low as he glowered over you. “Everything I have taught you … I was hoping you had some sound reason for delaying your task. But instead you come to me, suspicious of carrying his child. You are so pathetically predictable.”

“So it was all lies,” You said. “All of it, from the moment you came.”

“My time here has been miserable,” Father hissed. “Having to watch you play house with that thing” — he threw his hand — “and his family. I am here for one reason and one only, and that is to take matters into my own hands.”

Your eyes widened at him. It was all beginning to make sense now. The letter — it had come after the greenhouse. Your father and his Cyclone. You had thought him simply paranoid, wanting his own protection.

That was not why.

You thought of the other Oasis ninja littered all over the palace — the entire village. Perfectly poised to act. All they needed was to be given word …

“So you’ve just been —“ You struggled to get words out. “Biding your time?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Father said. “It seems, despite my intentions, I have friends in this village.” His smile was cold. “Members of the council would like to see the Kazekage’s removal.”

A cold chill. Joseki. And only the gods knew who else. No. No …!

You weren’t quick enough — Father grabbed you again.

“I would hate to kill kin,” he said. “I am giving you not a mission, but a choice. Either you kill your beloved, or you can join your mother and brother in the afterlife.”

You stared at him. Tears ran down your face. “You wouldn’t,” You whispered hopelessly. “You wouldn’t.”

The madness had returned to your father’s eyes. Dread sank you; the madness had never left him.

“It would be a shame if I had to kill my unborn grandchild as well, a blight on our family that it is.”

He dropped you and you fell sloppily to the floor. You cradled your head as it throbbed. You cracked your eyes open, sobbing in the corner as Father left the room, and Chuuyou, his sorrowful gaze lingering on you, followed him.

You hated no one more than yourself.

You had no idea how long you laid on the floor, shattered dreams and china surrounding you. Darkness and quiet swallowed up the room. Spilled tea long cold wet the bottom of your sandals. Time blurred miserably, thick and colorless, and you inferred that it must’ve been hours. You had managed to pick yourself off the floor and skulk to the room that had once been yours. Chuuyou’s loss weighed your step where he would’ve trailed them. Locking the door behind you, you waited to collapse on the bed to collapse in every other way.

You screamed into a pillow, your tears wetting the fabric. You clenched fists into its plush, and you were sure you could rip it apart, powered by nothing but anguish.

Emotions had blinded you. You were so desperate to believe your father had changed his mind you had missed the truth: he only wanted to succeed where you had failed.

He was playing along. All this time … All the while working out sinister background details with Joseki and — horror rained down on you — others to take down Gaara. Had all those times at his bedside been a lie? You couldn’t quite believe it; Father’s joy had seemed so genuine, his laughter — when was the last time you’d heard him laugh? He’d been a different person, an echo of something long lost. The memories of all those mornings evoked a different ache in you, impelling you to touch a hand on your chest. I lost the father I never had. That’s why I feel the way I do.

Chuuyou (your shadow, what a joke) had, at some point, slipped away to frame Matsuri. What was her role in this? Beside your angst lay curiosity; a part of you wanted to go to her cell and ask her yourself.

But you couldn’t. There was no time. Angst. Curiosity. Alarm. You were possibly carrying Gaara’s child — and wouldn’t be for much longer, if you didn’t do something fast. You wiped your tears with the back of your arm, releasing a shuddering breath as you rose from bed.

There was only one card you had to play: you had to tell Gaara. Now.

You picked yourself up from your self-hate, composed yourself, and left the room for the one you shared with Gaara. He had to be there by now; it was late afternoon. The last time you had turned your head to the sky, it had been periwinkle. Your head had swelled with dreams. You hadn’t wanted to die.

You lugged yourself around, giving idle hellos to maids and servants who greeted you, working past hallways now familiar to you until you made it to the bedroom door and entered.

“Gaara …!” You were relieved.

Gaara sat at the bed’s edge, one leg swung over the other. Unharmed. He raised his head to smile at you. “(Y/n). Hello. I was just waiting for you.”

You brought him into a hug. “Thank the gods …” You whispered into his sleeve.

You felt his hand still at the small of your back. “(Y/n) … There have been some issues.”

You pulled back to stare inquisitively up at him. Carefully, you asked, “What do you mean? … What types of issues?”

Gaara cast his gaze low. “Would you be opposed to remaining only in the palace?”

“Gaara.” Your brows furrowed. “What’s going on?”

Gaara still averted your gaze. “I hate asking this of you — you’ve been so sequestered already — but … There are anti-Kazekage sentiments brewing across the village.”

“Anti-Kazekage …” You trailed. Did this have to do with the greenhouse? Or your father? Or both? “Gaara, oh no … I’m sorry …”

“Don’t be,” Gaara said. “It’s as I told you: not all have come to accept me. And as there has been a significant uptick in drama lately, it was to be expected. I highly doubt it will leak to the entire village. I’ll deal with it.” He glanced up at you at last. “But I fear for your safety, especially after what took place at the beach …” He stopped, invisible brows furrowed as he appraised you. “Is something the matter?”

“Yes.” There was no point sugarcoating. This was it. You couldn’t be a coward anymore. Do the right thing for once. For your husband. For the baby. “My —“

But your tongue refused to work; it lay limp in your mouth. Your lips parted, but only breath escaped. Sound, no words.

Gaara took your hand. “Take your time. That is what Temari would always tell me when I had trouble speaking as a child.” He paused. “As a young child.”

“I’m all right,” You said, creating some distance between the two of you. “I’m — okay, really! It’s just, my —“ Again, your tongue froze. Your lips closed against your will, refusing to help you impart speech. You tried to force words out — only to remain hopelessly tongue tied. You closed your eyes with a sinking realization.

Your heart ramped. Panic set in. Oh, no. Oh no oh no.

Father’s done something to me. I can’t say it! I can hardly think !

“Are you okay?”

“Gaara …” Fear shallowed your breath. It gripped you like a child hiding from the dark, and you wished you had a teddy to hug. I’m so scared. What should I do?

“(Y/n).” Gaara’s voice was firm now.

You closed your eyes, bringing Gaara close. “No.” You shook your head. “I — I just …” You fought tears. You couldn’t tell the truth, and now you truly couldn’t. I can’t tell him — I literally can’t tell him. “I just can’t stay inside anymore! I feel so claustrophobic, but — but I always seem to be causing trouble for you … That shouldn’t be the case for someone you love.”

“No.” Gaara caressed your cheek. “If anything, I cause trouble for you.” And with all the authority of a Kage, he said, “I will address this. I’m sorry, truly, but it will only be for a few more days. No longer.”

Like you cared about living or being anywhere besides the Sand palace. Like you wouldn’t want to burrow into it and stay forever. Wordlessly, you brought him into a hug. You wanted to burrow inside him, hide in your fiancée, the only place you felt safe. Even if he couldn’t save you.

“If anything, I cause trouble for you,” Gaara said. He stroked the nape of your neck, his voice as gentle as autumn rain. “Forgive me.”

You pinched at his sleeve, a cue for him to comfort you more, and, miraculously, Gaara obliged, running a hand over your arm.

“You … could never cause trouble for me.”

“Do you think (Y/n) has been acting strangely lately?” Gaara asked.

His siblings lounged around the sitting room, accompanied by Baki. Despite the demands of their respective duties, some days were slower than others. Gaara lived for these days where he could enjoy the company of his family and friends, and he enjoyed it now, even with his concern for you.

At his inquiry, Temari stopped fanning herself. “Hm?” “I haven’t noticed anything. Though … I haven’t seen much of Lord Boutoku lately. Oh.” She sighed and rested her chin on her palm. “I hope the council’s not crowding him too much. Did you hear Ryusa kept him out all day yesterday?”

“Serves him right,” Kankuro grumbled. “Geezers. All of them. He’s got some nerve, always retiring to his room because he’s tired — like he doesn’t have servants waiting on him hand and foot.”

“I’ve heard about people having …” Gaara fought the anxiety inside of him as he reached for the term, “cold feet …”

“Certainly not, Lord Kazekage,” Baki said. “You must understand: women are mysterious creatures. They need a great deal of time to themselves.”

“I second that,” Temari said. “It’s a surprise you’re not married, Baki.”

Baki gave her a flat look. “Oh, is it?”

“Gaara,” she said, ignoring Baki, “I’m sure she’s fine. Don’t worry.”

“Yeah, I’ll go check on her for you,” Kankuro said.

Gaara frowned. “But …”

Kankuro placed a hand on Gaara’s shoulder on his way out. “Big brother will take care of it. Don’t worry.”

Gaara appreciated the levity, and after a second or two nodded.

“Thank you, Kankuro.”

Kankuro made it to Gaara’s quarters. He could hear the trickle of shower water. The bed was perfectly made, along with the rest of the room. Not a hair out of place — beside your necklace on the bedside table.

Kankuro sighed. Worried about nothing, as always, Gaara. The necklace’s disk caught in the lamplight. Curiosity tugged at him. He approached the necklace. He remembered the pomp-and-circumstance that came along with Lord Boutoku bestowing it on you. The whole thing was cheesy, but … sweet. He knew how much you loved the thing, were never seen without it. Maybe the old man wasn’t so bad. Crazy, but not bad.

Kankuro grazed the necklace’s face — he misjudged it, though, and it clanked to the floor.

“Woops.” He knelt down to retrieve it, only to see its disk had cracked open.

His eyes widened. “Oh no,” he hissed. “No!”

Kankuro, what the fuck did you —?

Glistening black caught his eye. The necklace had broken apart at its center like a metaphorical heart, allowing something to … seep from it.

Something was inside the necklace.

He leaned forward to further inspect it.

Your hands ran absentmindedly over your body. The hot water did nothing to change the corpse-cold temperature of your skin. With numb fingers, you shut the water off, your hair dripping over the valve.

You felt othered from your own body, trapped in it with no choices, no resolution. The clock ticked imminently to doomsday in your mind. When would Father attack? Would he make you watch it as punishment?

I hope he kills me first. I do not want to see what he does next.

You palmed your stomach and imagined the fetus occupying your womb. The only thing anchoring you from life, and you had even failed this life before it was even born.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Only a few days ago, you were reeling at the prospect of marrying Gaara, only sooner you were imagining starting a family. What a risible delusion. What a farce.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

You left the shower and wrapped a towel around yourself. A new set of dry clothes lay folded for you, and after drying off, you dressed. Fresh clothes. Soft. Flowery-scented shampoo, soap. The warmth of the clothes failed to penetrate your skin, much like the shower water had. You felt carved, rounded out and empty, like a shell whose creature had long since slithered away.

You reached for your necklace — it was gone.

What? Your reverie cleared enough for you to ponder. Had you misplaced it? Remembering one moment from another had become a struggle. What had you done with it?

Unless it was taken?

Your eyes widened. Panic shattered the reverie completely. What if Father had taken it, or had someone do it?

You exited the room, head swinging either way. Where would you look? The only place that came to mind was the sitting room. You headed there, descended the stairs to the last floor —

“Has anyone seen my —?”

Gaara was there, waiting for you. And Temari and Kankuro. And Baki. And a dozen other sand ninja.

You froze on the stairs.

Kankuro, blank-faced, lifted his hand: your necklace chain roped around his fingers and hung there. “Looking for something?” He turned half of the necklace’s broken face and the poison dripped blood-black dots onto the floor.

Your body, flushed from running, ran corpse-cold again. “I …”

“(Y/n) …” Gaara said. “What is this?”

Your throat was too constricted to help form words. A thousand knives seemed to hold you in place.

“An incredibly powerful agent, I’d say,” Kankuro finished for him in a detached, clinical voice, though nothing could conceal the cold fury underneath. “Extracted from the Red Spine plant. Grows from her side of the desert. I’ve even read about it … You would’ve been dead in seconds, Gaara.”

You shook your head wildly. “No, Gaara, Kankuro — I can explain …!”

“So that’s why Boutoku’s here,” Temari said under her breath. You could see the whites of her knuckles from where you stood. Shadows shrouded her eyes before she fixed you with a murderous glare. “You planned to poison him.”

There was no air in your lungs. “No … no …. Wait, I — please —“

“This whole time …” Kankuro’s anger simmered under his breath, barely held back. “It’s all been a ruse. You were waiting for us to let our guards down —“

“No!”

“I knew something was off!” Temari roared, a hysterical edge to her voice now. “I knew something was wrong! This whole time — and when you woke up in the infirmary and flipped out about the necklace being gone! You thought we’d found out!”

Tears were streaming down your face now. You tried to move your mouth helplessly to reveal the truth, but no words were forthcoming. As Father designed, your tongue rolled and failed you.

It doesn’t matter. I knew. I agreed to all of this. All of it.

“There must be some explanation.” Gaara’s voice was measured, but even you could detect the hint of desperation in his tone. “A misunderstanding …?”

You kept moving your mouth, but you were sure you only appeared stammering and pathetic, grasping at straws to craft into lies. Your legs failed; you slumped to a step. You caught Baki’s eye, quietly pleading, but disappointment seemed to keep him silent.

“There isn’t, Gaara.” Kankuro took a step. You’d never seen him look so imposing; his face paint rendered him monstrous. “She’s been wearing that fucking thing since she got here, since I brought her to you —!”

Kankuro threw the necklace, emptied of its contents, into your face. You yelped, catching it with trembling hands. Temari’s

hands shook, aching, probably, for a weapon to strike you with.

“You snake!” Kankuro hissed. “After everything —!”

“Gaara …” You looked up — and your heart fell to pieces.

Gaara was a stone, but his eyes were lined with moisture. You had brought him to near tears.

You had done this.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” Baki asked. “If you’ve anything at all to say.”

“Please, Gaara …” You were crawling away from the stairs now, toward them. “Please, please …”

Save me.

Gaara turned away from you. His expression was cold.

“Take her.”

“No!” You screamed as ninja advanced to grab you. You kicked as you were hoisted to your feet. “No, you can’t, Gaara!” You were being thrust through the threshold when your voice ripped from your throat: “I’M PREGNANT!”

The shinobi paused, turned to Gaara for guidance.

Gaara searched your eyes, his expression reserved in his desperation for this to be true.

“Please,” You sobbed. “It’s true … You can’t do this. You know it’s possible.”

He turned around, this time his back to you. “She’ll be given a test to confirm whether this is true. We can no longer take her on her word. We’re done here … Take her.”

You sobbed miserably as you were dragged away. Temari and Kankuro’s words filtered through your awareness, but nothing registered.

“Matsuri needs to be released, we need to go get her —“

“We have to deal with Boutoku now!”

“I can’t believe this —“

But it all fell away as you lolled your head to the side. Brutal daylight hit your face as you were dragged from the palace’s entrance, and through blurry eyes, you watched the place that had become your home grow farther away. Nothing but a dream.

#gaara x reader #gaara x you #gaara x y/n #gaara smut #naruto x reader #naruto x y/n #naruto x you #naruto smut #my work

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ozzgin · 9 months

Text

[Baki Masterlist]

Yandere! Pickle x Reader

"Was that Hanayama on the phone?" you inquire slightly distracted. "What did he want?"

"I'll explain more on the way, (Y/N). I know it's a bit sudden, but we should hurry."

Baki grabs your wrist with gentle confidence and begins to sprint lightly, allowing you to match his pace.

"What the hell? Did something happen?" you increase your speed without complaints, though you'd like to know why you just started running like a madman.

"Remember that caveman we saw on TV?"

"Pickle? Yeah, how is that-" your mouth hangs open for a few more seconds as you process the information, and as everything finally clicks into place you furrow your brows at the young boy. He quickly turns his head to glance at you and flashes an apologetic smile.

"I just wanted to see him with my own eyes. Aren't you curious, too?"

You press your lips together and just look ahead. When Baki is like this, there's no point in arguing. The two of you have developed this dynamic of a little brother looking for trouble and the older sibling going along with it, too softened by their affection to say no.

You assume you've reached your destination when a large group of men are standing close together, observing something in frightened silence. You push past them and notice Hanayama, standing casually in front of the large man that's been making the headlines for the past days. Your eyes trace the heavy dents and cracks left in the asphalt, somewhat regretful for missing the event that caused them.

Pickle turns around, following Hanayama's gaze. Among the terrified expressions there's a small boy grinning with excitement. Next to him is an even smaller human who immediately reminds Pickle of the woman that had approached him upon his arrival. His eyes widen as he takes in the soft features and smooth frame. The tiny human returns the stare, although with detached indifference. Pickle can feel his heart throbbing loudly in his chest. He doesn't sense any fear and that entrances him greatly.

"Hey, come on, don't be like that." Baki snaps him back to reality. "I've been looking forward to seeing you, you know? I wanted to meet you so badly! When I heard you escaped, I asked Hanayama to keep an eye out for me."

Pickle extends his fist, seemingly unimpressed by the monologue, and Baki doesn't hesitate to return the gesture. Within seconds Baki finds himself flipped upside down, but he quickly readjusts himself and lands safely, struck with amazement.

"Isn't that aikido?!" you gasp in disbelief, sharing Baki's reaction. Pickle immediately picks up on the fact that you've observed him and a satisfied smile appears on his face. Were you impressed by his newly acquired skills? Whatever bizarre techniques these humans were throwing at him weren't hard to decipher nor reproduce.

Pickle's musings are interrupted by a strong kick to the face. Baki barely manages to contain himself. He's panting and sweating with feverish anticipation.

Before Pickle can react, the tiny human swings her arm and whacks the boy behind his head.

"Oi! What's the matter with you? This is the kind of face you make when seeing your girlfriend, not some random museum exhibit. Tone it down or I'll let Kozue know what kind of pervert she's dating!"

"It's not like that!" Baki rubs his freshly earned wound in embarrassment. "And you didn't have to hit me that hard. You're going to scare Pickle off."

The large prehistoric man watches the exchange. He doesn't understand what they're saying, but the body language indicates that they're close. Are they mates? He becomes slightly irritated at the thought. He wants to know the pretty looking human better, but it now seems there's an obstacle in the way. He'll take care of it.

***

Pickle starts walking away, guiding his new friends down the busy streets of Tokyo until they reach the underground arena. Despite Tokugawa's anger upon finding the escape artist, you whistle in admiration. You wish you had this kind of spatial orientation.

"So, what is it you want to do now that you've brought us here?" Baki is the first one to break the silence.

"Baki, isn't it obvious what you're gonna do here? You know what's done here, don't you? He's picking a fight with you!" Tokugawa exclaims, the scolding attitude from a moment ago long forgotten.

The light above you is abruptly dimmed and you look up to see that Pickle is somehow standing inches away, towering over with a wide grin. How did it bypass your attention? Tokugawa lets out a yell of surprise; Hanayama and Baki immediately switch to a defensive stance. They didn't expect this.

"W-what is he doing?" the old man mumbles in fear.

Pickle places a heavy hand on your head and ruffles your hair lightly. You stare in confusion, unsure how to react. He bends over for a brief moment and inhales in rapid intervals, as if inspecting your scent. Once satisfied, he growls at you - perhaps in an attempt to communicate - and turns back to Baki.

"Is it possible he likes (Y/N)?" Hanayama hums, weighing his thoughts.

"In that case, maybe he sees Baki as his rival?" Tokugawa points out.

"Hmmm. Then it should make this fight even more entertaining." Hanayama continues.

"I'm in the room, you know? You're talking as if I'm some meat on display." you groan in annoyance.

"Sorry, sorry, (Y/N). We'll clear things up with Pickle after this, alright? Until then let me have my fun, please~" he pouts and looks at you with pleading eyes.

The large man grinds his teeth in anger as he's witnessing this clear display of disrespect. He's just announced his intentions to claim you, and this human half his size is mocking him in plain sight. He'll make sure he never gets up again. With a thrust, he lands his foot on Baki's chest and sends him flying into the public seating. The poor young boy gasps for air and passes out almost instantly.

Pickle begins to approach him in heavy, menacing steps. Hanayama raises his arms in his signature stance, pondering whether or not to interfere in someone else's fight. You don't share his battle etiquette and plant yourself in the path of the Jurassic man.

"That's enough. You've won." you claim in a low, assertive demand.

Pickle puckers his lips in surprise and curiosity. His eyebrows are raised and he stops to consider. Are you trying to protect your mate? Do you not understand how these things work? He's stronger and therefore entitled to his prize. Why wouldn't you want a partner that's more capable of protecting you, anyways? It makes no sense.

He gently presses your shoulder in an attempt to move you out of the way, but it doesn't seem to do much. He increases the force to the point he can feel your arm muscles contracting and flexing, though you still don't budge. His mouth opens slightly and he lets out an inquiring growl.

Looking into your eyes, he catches a glimpse of the same determination he saw in the man he fought recently. A smile widens on his face, revealing his polished fangs. To think that such a small body is holding so much tenacity. He's very proud of himself for finding a fitting partner.

You haven't attacked him so far, so he guesses you've reached a similar conclusion. You're probably asking him to let the feeble human live with his loss. He can, of course, show this courtesy for your sake. He lifts you by the waist and holds you above his head. He can finally take his time admiring your features. He wants to etch them into his memory, down to the finest detail.

"Well...that stopped him at least." Tokugawa comments with his arms folded, standing awkwardly before the bizarre scene.

"I doubt he'll harm (Y/N), so let's get Baki out of here." Hanayama climbs up the stairs towards the unconscious boy. "Can we leave you alone with Pickle for now, (Y/N)? I'm sorry for putting you into this situation."

"I should manage", you sigh in defeat. Once again you're left to deal with the mess. You pat Pickle's head in an attempt to secure your safety even further. The large man is elated and lets out some high pitched sounds that reverberate across the arena. He even dares to wonder if his awakening was something meant in order to meet you. That's how he feels right now, at least. A fateful encounter with his lifelong companion, regardless of where this strange new life might take him.

"Ooh, Professor Payne won't be happy about this..." Tokugawa laments, following Hanayama.

***

"I'm glad you're finally done with your Jurassic adventure", you tell Baki as both of you stroll through the city.

"I'm a bit salty I didn't win, though." He slouches dramatically and you laugh at his theatrics.

"You're never satisfied with anything. You should be grateful you didn't end up like Retsu, Katsumi or Jack." you place your index in front of his face, pretending to lecture him.

"By the way, did you see the latest news? They want to put Pickle back to sleep. What will you do?"

"Me? What business do I have with it? I had him attached to my hip this whole time, I can finally catch my breath."

"It was your one and only chance to have a boyfriend!" Baki teases you with a wink. "Poor Pickle is probably going mad looking for you now. Don't you want to at least say goodbye?"

"If I go say goodbye I won't leave again, so no thank you."

You slow down as you reach the intersection. This is where you usually part ways, so your conversation has come to an end.

"Well, it was nice hanging out with you. I'll see you around." the boy waves as he continues to the left. You check the time on your phone and stretch with a yawn. You can't wait to have a proper sleep.

You arrive at your apartment and fumble with your pockets to find the keys. When you glance at the lock, you notice a massive shadow looming over the entire wall. You step back instinctively and realize that whatever is creating the shadow currently stands behind you. Two arms sprawl out and twist around your body. You're overwhelmed by a now familiar smell.

Pickle rests his head on yours and closes his eyes. Oh, the absolute terror he went through when he realized you were no longer with him! The helplessness of not being to communicate this disaster to the confused humans in white coats, staring at him without the slightest idea. How did not a single one of them comprehend that his partner vanished? He'd trashed the place over in a blind rage and turned the city upside down in his desperate search. He never felt so vulnerable and naked and weak. Thankfully, he knows your scent so well that the smallest hint of it can get him running.

But alas, you're here now in his arms and he vows to never lose you again. He doesn't know where he is or what this reality means, but he has one certainty he can cling onto. That you're all his, until time freezes over again.

#yandere baki #baki #baki the grappler #pickle #pickle x reader #baki x reader #pickle baki

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