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Hero! Izuku Midoriya x Tired Male Reader - Dating anniversary.
The art is not mine; all credit goes to palipukki! If you don't like its use, please let me know and I will remove it immediately.
As batidas incessantes na porta se tornavam cada vez mais agressivas, porém, Izuku só chegou a escutá-las agora; abriu os olhos repentinamente, acordando de sua soneca.
Havia chegado há mais de duas horas do trabalho, estava extremamente cansado. Agora que a paz reinava em Musutafu, ele não tinha que se preocupar com os vilões severos no seu atual emprego de super-herói, o qual lhe tirava longas horas do dia e boa parte da sua energia e alegria.
Estressado, saiu debaixo das cobertas, indo abrir a porta. Sentiu o ar gélido cobrir sua pele, não estava chovendo, mas tudo indicava que iria chover: as nuvens nubladas lá fora; o frio devastador que arrepiava sua pele por inteiro; o calafrio que teve ao pisar na cerâmica branca; as folhas voando sem rumo.
Um suspiro deixou seus lábios ao encarar a face decepcionada de [Nome], o qual segurava uma sacola na mão direita e o celular na outra.
Abriu minimamente a boca tentando pronunciar alguma palavra, pois sabia que deveria se desculpar e lhe contar o motivo pelo qual desmarcou — ou tentou desmarcar — o encontro de ambos, mas nada que falasse iria mudar o temperamento explosivo de seu namorado. O dono de fios [escuros/claros] era intenso em suas emoções, dificilmente alternando os sentimentos. Se estava bravo, poderia passar horas e mais horas bravo, e nada o faria mudar de humor.
— O que estava fazendo? — perguntou, o tom de voz revelando sua decepção e preocupação.
O outro usava uma blusa social preta e uma calça cargo bege, combinando com seu tênis branco.
Izuku levou a mão até os fios esverdeados, passando os dedos finos por eles. A dor de cabeça estava intensa, e se tentasse explicar ou conversar com o namorado temperamental seria uma dor a mais, tanto em seu coração por decepcioná-lo, quanto em seu crânio por tentar ter paciência quando isso era mais que uma obrigação, visto que ele era o errado na situação.
— Não viu as minhas mensagens? — [Nome] deu dois passos à frente, na intenção de ter espaço para adentrar a casa do mais baixo. — Por que não avisou que não apareceria, em vez de me deixar plantado como um cacto, porra?
A tensão entre Izuku e ele era grande, o nervosismo misturado com o cansaço estampado na cara do esverdeado e a demora para respondê-lo só deixava o outro mais aflito.
— Eu avisei, não?
Midoriya buscou o celular no sofá, vendo que sua mensagem não foi enviada, pois ele fechou os olhos e largou o smartphone antes que clicasse no botão de enviar.
— Puta merda, amor…
Deslizou os dedos pelo rosto vermelho e marcado pela almofada. Antes que pudesse iniciar seu pedido de desculpas e explicações, [Nome] empurrou sobre seu peito o presente que havia comprado.
— Feliz aniversário de namoro para você também, que eu sei que é tão importante que você foi dormir ao invés de ir jantar comigo! — berrou, endurecendo os pulsos e sentindo uma veia saltar em sua testa.
— Poxa, me desculpa! Eu estava muito cansado do trabalho, nem o uniforme tirei, não está vendo!?
— Você sempre está, sempre. Nunca tem tempo para nós! — continuou argumentando de forma agressiva, espantando Izuku. — Hoje estamos completando três anos, e esse é meu presente? Um bolo no restaurante em que fiz reserva há meses?
— Você só trabalha quatro horas por dia, não sabe o que é estar cansado como eu, tá!? Se estivesse no meu lugar, não reclamaria tanto!
O silêncio prevaleceu entre os dois. Ambos se encaravam com um misto de emoções embaralhadas e indecifráveis; não sabiam se a tensão, o constrangimento, o nervosismo ou a raiva tinha mais controle sobre eles. Apenas que aquela seria outra briga no cotidiano dos dois e que contribuía para a deterioração do relacionamento.
— Beleza, então! Quando não estiver mais cansado, procure outra pessoa para passar seu tempo, porque o meu já se esgotou!
Pingos de água começaram a cair do céu violentamente, esfriando o clima de forma significativa.
A expressão de Izuku esboçava surpresa e decepção consigo mesmo ao observar seu namorado virar de costas e ir embora na chuva. Suas roupas ficaram ensopadas em questão de minutos e seus fios [escuros/claros], aos poucos, foram perdendo a consistência e diminuindo o volume.
Logo o perdeu de vista na imensidão de gotas que caíam das nuvens. O frio atingiu sua pele com força, e todos os seus pelos se levantaram com brutalidade. O garoto passou os dedos pelos braços como forma de se proteger do clima intenso, o que era inútil.
Sua mente estava ocupada pelo sentimento de culpa e tristeza. Os pensamentos que o assombravam eram se, no dia seguinte, eles se resolveriam. Mas Izuku não podia deixar outra briga passar batida, precisava resolver aquilo agora ou nunca. Seu namorado não podia voltar para casa triste mais uma vez, como sempre ocorria.
Bateu a porta de sua casa com pressa, calçando seus chinelos e pegando um guarda-chuva, o que ele descobriu ser inútil após o objeto quase ser levado pelo vento devastador que tomava conta da região. Seus pés logo ficaram encharcados, juntamente de sua calça suja de lama.
Não sabia em que direção [Nome] havia seguido, e nem se chamasse seu nome ele escutaria. As gotas caíam violentamente sobre a terra, tornando o som de sua voz inaudível e sua visão periférica curtíssima.
Deixou que seu guarda-chuva voasse para longe, visto que isso o permitiu correr sob a chuva atrás de seu namorado. Correu pelo gramado de seus vizinhos, os olhos semiabertos enquanto seu braço tapava uma parte de sua visão, impedindo que seus orbes fossem tomados pela chuva demasiada.
Sob a luz de um poste, a sombra de [Nome] era refletida no chão. Era possível ver suas roupas completamente encharcadas e coladas ao seu torso, enquanto escorria água de dentro de seus tênis.
Mais alguns passos e conseguiu alcançar o garoto de fios [escuros/claros]. O olhar dele sobre seu corpo também inteiramente molhado era de aflição e espanto; não imaginava que Izuku iria atrás de si.
O primeiro ato que o esverdeado tomou ao encontrar a orbe avermelhada alheia foi sorrir em meio à chuva e, o segundo, foi puxar com força as maçãs de seu rosto para um beijo molhado e tenso. Os pingos inundavam ambos os rostos, misturando-se ao beijo, mas não interferiam no temperamento quente do movimento entre as línguas.
Quando saiu daquela casa, o olho de [Nome] ardia em fúria, uma chama inextinguível que consumia cada fibra de sua existência. Em seu interior, um turbilhão de emoções inquietas dançava como fios embolados, tecendo um intricado emaranhado de mágoa e desespero.
O dono de fios [escuros/claros] agora era apenas uma sombra de si mesmo, envolto em um manto de tristeza opressiva que turvava sua visão e entorpecia os passos que dava em meio à chuva. Sua mente era um turbilhão de sentimentos tumultuados, uma tempestade de emoções que o arrastava para um abismo de desespero e desolação.
— Eu trabalho por quatro horas, não é porque não quero, eu não consigo! Eu não consigo trabalhar mais! — [Nome] grunhiu choroso, deixando que as lágrimas salgadas rolassem de seu único olho e se misturassem com a água da chuva.
A guerra, implacável em seu alcance, não poupa nenhum indivíduo de suas consequências devastadoras. [Nome] perdeu a visão de um dos olhos devido às circunstâncias inevitáveis, o que o levou a submeter-se à dolorosa remoção do referido órgão, substituído por uma prótese de vidro. Estava cego daquele lado; seu corpo totalmente cicatrizado se recuperava lentamente, pele sensível, músculos frágeis. Participava da fisioterapia e, pouco a pouco, estava conseguindo progredir.
— Não é porque eu não quero, eu não consigo — ele balbuciou, sentindo-se inválido.
Sua carreira mal tinha começado e já estava perto do fim.
Estava se sentindo uma bagunça, a cabeça em outro lugar, e com um simples gesto de aproximação, foi arrancado de seus pensamentos. A fúria incontida de [Nome] foi momentaneamente dissipada, substituída por uma intensa mistura de emoções.
— Por que você acha que pode resolver tudo com isso, porra?! — ele gritou. — Um beijo não vai resolver tudo! Não mais, Izuku! A porra de um beijo não vai resolver isso.
Estava chateado, machucado e triste.
— Kacchan, eu…
O dono de fios [escuros/claros] o interrompeu:
— Eu não acabei! Caralho, Izuku… Me desculpa se eu não estou trabalhando o suficiente, me perdoe se meu cansaço não pode ser comparado ao seu. Cacete, o meu maior desejo é voltar a trabalhar em campo, voltar a trabalhar contigo, mas não posso, pois eu sou a porra de um caolho desgraçado que o corpo não tá aguentando o próprio peso.
Eles ficaram alguns segundos se encarando antes de Izuku o puxar novamente para um beijo.
Os lábios gelados de [Nome] encontraram aqueles que ele tanto amava. A chuva se misturava com as lágrimas salgadas que escorriam de seus olhos, numa dança de emoções intensas e avassaladoras.
Com carinho e delicadeza, ele segurou o esverdeado, como se temesse que aquele momento fugisse de suas mãos. O calor do corpo do outro o aquecia. Lentamente, Izuku se afastou, as mãos tocando agora a face de [Nome].
— Me perdoa, [Nome]! — começou a falar, acariciando-o.
— Falei sem pensar, eu não queria, eu não deveria!
[Nome] parecia um gatinho arisco, seu único olho focado em si, banhado de medo e desconfiança, seus fios molhados e o nariz avermelhado persistindo em algumas fungadas.
— Você quis sim! — ele resmungou baixinho, as bochechas adquirindo um toque avermelhado.
— Me perdoa… Me perdoa! Eu não sabia como você estava se sentindo, me perdoa por falar sem pensar… Eu o amo tanto!
As testas se encostaram, ressentidas, abrangendo um momento de silêncio, onde as mágoas foram curadas. O arrependimento de Izuku ficou claro, e os sentimentos do dono de fios [escuros/claros] de tensão e tristeza foram esmaecendo
— Vamos para casa! — o esverdeado falou, segurando a mão do outro.
Ele deu um suspiro baixo e acenou positivamente com a cabeça, levando uma mão ao rosto e tirando a do esverdeado dali.
Once the Nara finds their future mate, they have to undergo an intense period of forced separation from their future mate to help the navigate their lack of control when their mate isn’t nearby.
Shikaku remembers how he hated it but he can acknowledge that it was for the best. Spending the time away from his future wife and having his parent guide him through all the intensity that comes with being a Nara helped him with control.
It just sucks when the Nara is so young. It sucks even more when you have to watch your kid go through it. Shikaku pushed it off until his son was a preteen, a genin, so he didn’t damage his son’s development but it needed to be done before he started going on missions.
Shikaku hates that he has to keep his son away from the Alpha he damn near imprinted on. He hates that his son screams himself horse and cries until he’s dehydrated and begs and pleads for them to be brought back to him. He hates that his son’s eyes are bloodshot and red rimmed and swollen from crying and not sleeping. He hates that his son doesn’t have an appetite. He hates that his son understands what’s happening and that the longer he resists the longer the separation will last but the pain and panic is too much to cope with.
The elders haven’t seen a connection this strong in years and they are sympathetic and step in to run the clan while Shikaku dedicates his days to helping his son adjust to the separation. Yoshino spends her days with the Alpha and their family so she can give her son updates to soothe him. He coos and reassures Shikamaru as best he can. His Alpha is safe. They still like him. He just needs to do this.
His heart breaks when his son asks if he will still like the Alpha after this. He doesn’t want to lose the feeling he gets when he sees them. He likes the overpowering feeling of safety and security and the need to be close and he doesn’t want to lose it. Shikaku reassures him that he wont. This changes nothing about how he and his future mate react to the other.
This is just to make sure his behavior will be controlled and manageable and appropriate.
It’s just very hard and Shikaku promises hell get through it and when he does, his Alpha can move in officially if they want to.
I Burnt Bridges For You, Not For Concubines - Omega!Shikamaru Nara
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A/N: This is a very very very belated birthday gift to Amy ( @animeomegas ). It has taken me soooo long to try and get this somewhat cohesive and I probably failed but whatever it has porn in it. It is a semi-continuation of the Royal!Au I did for her Holiday Gift last year. Happy Birthday Amy!
Warnings: panic attacks, Obsession-related insanity, Shikamaru (yes he is a warning), threats, horrible treatment of other humans, horrible noble man named John, NSFW, rut, my horrible attempt at a plot, I’M ON MY BULLSHIT, probably full of plotholes leave me alone, I didn’t know how to end it im so sorry
A/N: Merry Christmas. Don't ever say I didn't give y'all anything. This is the sequel to I Burnt Bridges For You, Not For Concubines.
Warnings: attempted murder, poisoning, Nara Obsessions, Nara Bullshit, violence mentions, NSFW, bad writing, im sorry, blood mention, I know I'm missing warnings
Word Count: 20,151 - yes yes i know its long it took me so long
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The dark, dense Nara forest parts slowly the further you go into Nara territory. You hadn’t been able to pull yourself away from the window since your company reached the border, fascinated by the incredibly different terrain that is the Nara Kingdom. The tall trees, thick bushes, and clear air are markedly unlike the unyielding stone, frozen temperatures, and smoke that form your own kingdom and you are enraptured by the beauty of it.
To anyone else, the treeline would have been intimidating. Nothing could be seen past the first few rows of trees and growth, a foreboding darkness and eerie silence shrouding unknown danger and warding off even the bravest of travelers from entering.
To you though, it was the beginning of a new adventure. An ease spread through your chest as you eagerly watched the distance close between you and trees. Your guardian had long given up trying to pull you away, deciding the extra history lesson wasn’t worth the fight to keep your focus. Your current nanny tried to disagree, insistent that you were already so far behind your lessons, but she was silenced with a look.
A small blessing for your exhausted brain.
The forest canopy keeps the sun’s light from touching the ground but despite the darkness, you can make out the dense undergrowth of the forest floor, decorated with lush greenery and lovely flowers. Thick roots protrude from the ground, weaving and twisting around each other. The only break in the ground is an almost unnoticeable indent marking the edge of the path. If you hadn't been looking so closely, you would have missed it entirely.
Only Naras know the ever-changing paths to the inner kingdom by intent and design. The Nara, in allegiance with the Yamanaka and the Akimichi, hold secrets unimaginable to those outside the Western Realm and the territories they rule over. The forest acts as their first line of defense, the density and darkness preventing enemies from getting too close too quickly.
Those that attempt to enter without a Nara guide lose themselves before losing their life. Many armies have failed in their attempts to gain the upper hand in conflict using the forest, underestimating how difficult it is to navigate and control. The ground breathes and takes the air from the lungs of those it does not want around. It moves and undulates and drags people below to reclaim wasted energy and repurpose it to bringing new life to the undergrowth.
It consumes as it lives.
As such, a Nara guide from the palace is dispatched every time permission is granted to enter the kingdom.
Your Nara guide is a strict looking woman with a long single center braid starting from the front of her hair line and ending at her waist. The sides of her head are shaved, antler-like barbs tattooed on the bare skin. There is a scar across her throat, deep as it curves and disappears under her collar. Her eyes are golden-yellow, like the center of a fire. You hope you get a free moment out from under your guardian’s gaze to tell her that you think she is beautiful.
It takes what feels like hours before the forest starts to thin but when the first rays of sunlight filter through, they do slowly and softly, gently illuminating your surroundings to your curious eyes. When the forms of wild deer appear, your nanny reprimands you for shaking the carriage in your excitement with a swap from her fan. The action isn’t intended to sting as much as it is to make you feel small and her scowl deepens when it does little to affect your mood.
You don’t care about the dirty look. A killjoy Beta woman your guardian hired to make sure you were watched when you weren’t with them, she charged and demanded more than she was worth and you didn’t care much for her, her opinion, or her ugly fan. She knew it too and made sure to tell anyone who would listen about your impudence and disrespect.
Your guardian clears their throat, pulling your attention away from where the trees glittered in the sprinkling of light, “Remember your manners Y/N. The Naras are an esteemed and well-established noble family and offer us a great deal of resources that we are currently lacking. You are the heir to the throne. You would do well to remember your lessons.” The coldness in their eyes is unwavering, the disgust twitching along their upper lip ever-present.
“Yes,” you nod solemnly, shrinking the tiniest bit under their stern glare. Their eyes narrow even further.
Anxiety spikes through your chest as you realize your mistake. It's not very Alpha of you to cower. Correction will be given. The backs of your hands and legs throb.
You turn away, curling your body as close to the side of the carriage as possible.
The room is dark when you awaken, the curtains drawn tight to keep the sun’s harsh direct light from touching your bed. There is a weight behind your eyelids, making it difficult to keep your eyes open. Sensation is lost to your body, limbs aching in their numbness.
‘Wha…’ is all you manage before the pulsing in your head starts. The throbbing is intense, waves of agonizing pain dancing around the back of your skull and behind your eyes. Almost as if given the signal, parts of the rest of your body start cramping and pulling. Pins and needles and unpleasant tingles. It punches the air from your lungs and with a good deal of struggle, you manage to roll to your side.
A quick peek at the side table reveals a pitcher of water and a glass half filled. Slowly and painfully, you reach over and grab it, wincing at the stretch of your arm. Your fingers struggle to get around the glass and lift it but you manage. The water is cool as it goes down, a balm on your throat. When the glass is empty, you place it back on the table and sit up slowly, taking pause when the movement turns blinding.
“Where am I?” you wonder when your vision stops fading to black, throat cracking from disuse as you look around at the room. It's smartly furnished with dark woods, a neutral earthy color palette, and various nature-inspired decor. Curiously, there is a pile of deer antlers in one of the corners of the room, cleaned but otherwise untouched. The bed you lay in is lush and conforming, the pillows beneath your head stuffed to the brim with feathers, and the blankets artfully and professionally crafted for maximum warmth and comfort. You don’t think you remember ever having such a comfortable bed.
‘This isn’t my kingdom,’ you think groggily, eyes squinting in a poor attempt to make out the insignia on the door. It's a vastly different one than your own. Joy sparks dully in the back of your brain at the notion of no longer being trapped in the mountains, of never seeing your guardian’s face again. You dreamed of leaving that horrid place for years. ‘This isn’t my bedroom.’
A wild thought wanders to the forefront. ‘Is…is this my body?’
It's a silly thought but the fear that floods through you at the idea has you taking a peek at what lies under your shirt and pants. Finding everything as it should be, you breathe a sigh of relief. Your body may feel like it's been turned inside out but it is yours.
Still, all things considered, it doesn’t answer the question at hand.
Where are you?
If you aren’t in the mountains, then you are somewhere else. The sides of your temple throb at the attempt to form a more complex thought sequence.
‘Only one way to find out,’ you think, taking a deep breath.
Getting out of bed is a hassle when your arms and legs tingle painfully from disuse. The world shifts in and out of blackness for a few moments, stance wobbly. It takes several long moments before it stops but everything is still blurry. A spasm of electricity crawls up your spine, forcing you forward to face-plant into the bedding. There is a tightness in all your limbs as it shakes through you.
There is a tugging in your chest suddenly, an urge to move forward. Tendrils of urgency trickle through your veins, prompting you to push through the pain and leave the room. Shadows of memory linger just outside of your reach but there is enough for you to grasp that you need to go somewhere. You need to be somewhere. There is something - or someone - waiting for you.
The door is heavier than it looks - or maybe you are just weaker than normal? - and by the time you get it open enough to slip through, you are short of breath and panting harshly. Thankfully, there is no one outside the room.
Peering down both sides of the hallway, your brow furrows, ‘Actually…’
It's pretty odd for there not to be at least one guard posted at your bedchamber door.
“Maybe I’m no longer a royal?” you whisper aloud but it strikes you as wrong as soon as it passes your lips. Why were you in a very clearly marked royal bedroom if you weren’t a royal? A servant would be in a servant’s residence - either inside the castle or in town - and it wouldn’t be nearly as big as the room you woke up in.
‘I could be a concubine,’ you think with the slightest bit of mortification. It would make sense though. If you were a favorite, you’d be granted more luxury than other concubines. If you were acting as a stud, you’d be granted access to the royal bedchambers for ease of access. Both options would explain the fancy bedroom. It would also explain why you were left alone while suffering under what you could only assume was the aftereffects of an illness. Royals, nobles, and the like loved to keep their treasures close. ‘Do I suck cock for freedom?’
‘No,’ you point at yourself, eyes narrowed at your own finger, ‘Fool. You’d remember becoming a stud and you would gain nothing but a new prison if you had. Be quiet. You don’t suck cock for freedom.’
‘No, you suck it for fun,’ a smarmy voice echoes from somewhere deep in your brain and it makes your face warm in aggravation and embarrassment.
‘You be quiet too. I’ve never sucked a cock in my life.’
The voice retreats with a snicker and part of you wants to chase after it in your brain and curse at it until your tongue is sore but the bigger, more reasonable, less insane part of you lets it go.
Deciding that focusing on the reason behind the lack of people in front of your door is getting you nowhere, you carry on. Slipping the door closed as gently as possible, you look down the hallway in both directions once more.
It is eerie. The hair prickles along the back of your neck and along your arms, a sense of foreboding pooling in your stomach.
All of the windows in both directions were covered with thick curtains and the adjacent wall is covered in various portraits of presumed dead people and more of the same decor from the bedroom. The insignia of the royal family is embroidered many times on the long runner rug that reaches from one end to the other. The only light visible is on the floor beneath the windows where the curtains couldn’t stop it from bleeding in, much like it had been in the bedchamber, casting everything in a haunting glow. The only door is the one that led into the bedchamber.
It's incredibly silent, eerily so. All you can hear is the sound of your own breathing as you wobble down the corridor, keeping a hand on the wall for balance. The edges of your vision are still bleary, the darkness darting in and out as you sluggishly turn a corner.
The new hallway is longer than the one you just left but with less windows. and the walls were marked with seemingly endless dark doors. You don’t know where any of them lead but figure the big door, nearly encompassing the entirety of the wall and decorated with fresh flowers and greenery, will take you somewhere important. Maybe then you can get some answers.
The world spins under your feets as you limp towards it with no small amount of determination. You regret leaving the bed. Part of you hopes it's the door to the library because libraries often have nice comfy chairs that one may sit down to rest in.
A knot of anxiety twists low in your ribcage, pushing you forward at the idea. A chill dances along the edges of your skin as you open the fancy, decorated door.
The sudden onslaught of light from the sun tells you that it was not, in fact, the door to the library. The brightness is painful and you collapse to the ground slowly but all at once. Nausea rips through you as your eyes work to adjust to the sudden exposure of stimulation. A gag settles into your throat but you are too stubborn to allow the vomit working its way up to escape. It goes back down with some resistance, your chest burning with the bile, but it's much better than puking all over a stranger’s rug.
Your eyes start to cross however, so you close them and focus on your breathing. The air is crisp, clean, and perfumed with a variety of different scents that all fight for attention in your nose. Aside from the gentle rustling of water from a fountain and the small chirping of birds, it's quiet outside.
A different quiet though, than the oppressive and consuming silence from inside the castle. A quiet that feels tranquil rather than terrifying. You can’t hear anyone aside from yourself but it doesn’t spark the same sort of unease as it did before. The quiet inside is a dead stillness. The quiet outside is a gentle life.
The contrast is stark.
When the pain fades, you lift yourself back up to your feet and take in the view.
‘Yeah, I’m definitely not in the mountains.’
You feel giddy. The sun is high in the sky, casting light across the large expanse of land. On one side, there is a large garden sectioned off with thin but sturdy black gates. On the other side beyond the stone pathways that led to the castle, there is a meadow that spans several rolling hills. The entire meadow is tall grasses and dainty wildflowers flowers, perfect for frolicking and relaxing in. It splits the treeline in the horizon, creating a defined path to who knows where in who knows which direction.
If you squint, you can see the figures of several deer grazing by the trees along the split.
Taking a deep inhale, you allow all the scents of nature to filter gently into your system. There is no smoke. No sulfur. No salt. Your lungs feel clear. Your skin feels clean.
The nagging tugging in your chest appears again, pulling you further outside. You shut the door behind you gently and slowly, you wander down the beige stone steps.
You keep your hands on the thin black railing for support, and without thinking, turn towards the gates that section off the garden. The gate is partially open, allowing you to slip through without a fuss. There are several abandoned woven baskets besides several patches of harvestable vegetables, seemingly left in a hurry. Several of the new, unused beds have been disrupted, soil spilling across the stone walkways between them as if trampled on.
Disturbed, you walk further in, past the fruit trees and the large deer statue arrangement and the lovely fountain waterfall, following the niggling feeling telling you to keep going.
The feeling dissipates when you find yourself at the entrance of an alcove in the middle of a large hedge wall, decorated by a netted curtain of strung wildflowers. Pushing them to the side, your feet take you through. Inside, you can see the top of the hedges have been trained and grown to form an arch, providing shelter from the sun and casting everything in shadow. There is just enough sunlight to keep from stumbling in the dark but it's clear that this was meant to be some sort of hiding place.
The alcove doesn’t lead very far so it doesn’t take long before you find yourself in the center of the secluded area. What you see makes you pause. Held up by a few thick trees is a hammock. A small pillow and a throw blanket rest inside it, both obviously used and used often. A familiar smell wafts from it, a scent that feels familiar deep in your bones but, much like everything else, you are unable to place it.
Still, it lulls you to relaxation just the same, pulling at your already weakened and sore body.
The stone path disappears at the edge leading into the center and is replaced by patches of cushy moss and soft soil and the same wildflowers as the ones you saw in the fields. The flowers don’t stand as tall as they do in the fields but they are undoubtedly just as beautiful. There is no rhyme or reason to their placement, as if whoever created this space took a handful of seeds and threw them randomly across the area and let it be.
A warm giddiness spreads from the center of your chest as you stare at the flowers, a smile forming on your mouth without reason. Carefully, you walk through the flowers and moss to settle against one of the trees. The hammock is very inviting - cushioned and soft and obviously very well-made - but there was a pointed disinterest in it that resonates within you. Instead, you walk around the trees and settle against one of them, the moss growing on it in the shadows soft and fluffy against your back and head.
There is no more tugging. No more urge to wander. No more need to keep going. You may rest here and be patient. Rest and wait.
“I’ll wait here,” you whisper, closing your eyes, “It's safe here.”
^^^^^^^^^^
King Shikaku and Queen Yoshino are waiting at the entrance of the castle when the carriage stops. An attendant opens the door and holds it open for you, your nanny, and your guardian. Your guardian slips out first. You follow them out quickly, hurriedly adjusting the ill-fitted clothes you were put into. Your nanny slips out from behind you, shoving you not so subtly forward as your guardian climbs the stairs and greets the other royals.
King Shikaku is as intimidating as he’s rumored to be, standing tall and confident. His shoulders are broad and his legs are strong from years of training and battle. Two deep scars cross his face, given to him during the last major war, and it only makes him much more intimidating. He’s dressed in dark green and gold, his crown made of golden branches twisting around his skull. There are no jewels encrusted anywhere on it but you can faintly make out a small little ‘Y’ on the sides of the two main branches that act as the support for the rest of the crown.
Yoshino Nara is dressed similarly to her husband in dark green and gold and you marvel at how pretty she is. Her gown is long and soft-looking and her crown matches her husbands, though it was obviously crafted to appear softer and the metal was handled with a lot more care. There are little metal flowers added between her branches as they wound around her head. Her eyes are large and kind as she watches you approach behind your guardian, her red-tinted mouth pulled into a gentle smile. You feel shy.
When you catch up to the adults, you bow. The queen coos something softly that you can’t quite make out but it causes her husband to chuckle fondly. When you rise, your eyes catch sight of a child leaning behind Queen Yoshino. His brown eyes scan over you, his boredom and annoyance reflective across his face. He’s the spitting image of King Shikaku, right down to the tip of his nose. His hair was pulled back and up into a ponytail and he wore high-quality dark green clothing that matched his parents with a large embroidered insignia on the lapel that reflected his status.
It was obvious he was uncomfortable in the clothing, his fingers plucking at the collar and sleeves in irritation.
“This is my ward Y/N, heir to our kingdom,” you hear yourself being introduced and you quickly bow again, avoiding their eyes. Disapproval radiates from your guardian at the submission but you doubt anything will come from it. It's better to be overly polite than a fraction rude when it comes to forming alliances with kingdoms more connected than your own, after all.
“This is our son, Shikamaru,” Yoshino introduces to your entourage, gently guiding him out from behind her gown and nudging him towards you directly. It is clear that she has no interest in having him interact with the adults. He resists, pulling a face at his mother, but she is insistent.
Your guardian nods to him but otherwise completely disregards his existence in the same manner they disregard yours when they don’t need you for anything. It makes your skin prickle unpleasantly.
When the formal greetings are finished, everyone is led inside to the Great Hall. You don’t get a chance to look around and marvel at it before your guardian informs you that they will be adjourning to a separate room with the King and Queen and you are to stay behind with the Prince.
“Remember our talk,” they whisper in warning before allowing an attendant to lead them away.
When you open your eyes again, it is with more clarity and awareness. The sky is dark and cloudy, the air thick with the smell of petrichor.
Stretching, you rub at your eyes and blink in confusion as you realize where you are.
“How did I get here?” you whisper to yourself, looking around the alcove. As if summoned by the question, the memory of earlier filters through your mind. Waking up in your bed alone, stumbling down the hallway in search of something that lingered just along the outskirts of your thoughts but stayed just out of reach, the anxious feeling of needing to get away, marveling at the beauty of the kingdom around you, collapsing in exhaustion in the special place your mate set up for you both.
“Oh.”
Looking around surreptitiously despite no one being in the alcove, you stand up and dust yourself off, embarrassment making your neck hot. It had been so long since you last ‘slept-walked’ that you had hoped that you had officially grown out of it.
The thought made you snort. ‘Grown out of it.’ Right. If only you were afforded that luxury.
And did it even count as sleepwalking? While you hadn’t the faintest idea of where you were or why you were there, you do know that you knew for certain you were awake at the time.
You don’t get a chance to ponder it further, thoughts broken by the sounds of an earth shattering scream coming from the direction of the castle. It is quickly followed by what you can only describe as an Omegan wail- a haunting, high pitched, guttural dying sound that rattles your bones and sets your teeth on edge. It makes you lean into the tree for support, bent over as the nausea from before returns with a vengeance.
More memories start filtering in rapidly as you struggle not to gag against the tree, the wail petering off like fog in the wind. Your head throbs as the last however many weeks start reassembling themselves inside your mind. Lord John and his Omega entourage. The investigation into his involvement in the incident on the outskirts of the Uchiha kingdom. The confrontation in the Great Hall. Feeling fuzzy and blacking out.
When the nausea passes, you make your way out of the alcove and cut through the messy garden back to the castle, keeping your pace quick but your steps silent. You catch a whiff of a sour scent, sick and feeble, that burns your nostrils entwined with the scent you know unequivocally as your mates and you turn on your heel to follow it. Remarkably you don’t pass anyone on your way.
‘Where are all the guards? The servants?’ you wonder, alarm bells ringing in your head, ‘What is going on? Where is Shikamaru?’
The scent leads you back to your bedchamber. You can feel the blood start rushing through your body, all other thoughts fleeing from your brain. Noises from inside make you pause, hand hovering over the doorway.
“Where is my mate!?” you hear Shikamaru wail, the sound immediately followed by the sound of something heavy and made of glass breaking. Probably a vase. Without a moment of consideration, you remove your hand from the door and take several steps away from the door to hide behind the wall to the adjacent hallway.
Cowardly? Yes.
Smart? Also yes.
In the entire year of you being his mate, Shikamaru hadn’t gotten to a state that prompted him to fling furniture but there were a few close calls that had him leaping over random objects to do…whatever weird thing his instincts were telling him to do.
There is another loud crash and you wince, knowing how insufferable he’s going to be once he’s calm and realizes he’s going to have to double up his desensitization training time in the coming months. You love him, desperately, but he’s going to use every trick in his arsenal to avoid doing it and it's more than likely going to fall on you to get him to agree to it.
The door to your bedchamber opens suddenly. One of the medical assistants slips out quickly, backing into the wall opposite the door. You watch them shake for a moment, their face pale and terrified, before fleeing down the hallway away from you, fear clogging up their scent as it scatters in a haphazard trail behind them.
Faintly, you can hear three other voices, two of which are mostly muffled even with the door cracked open. You can’t make out much of what they are saying but you would bet an entire gold bar that they are likely trying to soothe the distraught Omega. The third voice is louder and very familiar but you can’t quite place it. It's too smooth to be Shikaku’s...
“What have you done with my Y/N!? Where did you take them?,” you hear your mate growl again, the sentence quickly followed by vicious snarling and a loud crashing noise that jolts you back a bit. Your heart breaks at how desperate and pained your Omega sounds, “My Y/N! Give them back to me!”
The smooth voice speaks but the only words you manage to catch are “explain” and “calm.” Both of which you know won’t go over well with Shikamaru in the state he’s in.
“They were in bed this afternoon, my Lord. I-I checked in on them twice. Once at daybreak and once right after lunch. I haven’t been back here since. I didn’t take them anywhere,” one of the voices stutters, though you give them credit for how confident their reply is in the face of your mate’s wrath. You recognize it as belonging to the castle’s head physician Kiyoshi.
Shikamaru’s distressed growling becomes more high-pitched and wounded-sounding. It makes your hackles rise. You can’t make out what he says, his voice both too low and quiet but also too garbled from his growling for it to make much sense to you from such a distance.
Kiyoshi’s response is also done in a much quieter register, “Yes…Yes I swear to you, they were alive when I left them. No…Look. I have my notes here….”
There are some more muffled growling noises that you can’t distinguish.
“No sir. My assistants have been with me all day, including when we checked on them. They were still unconscious but very much alive. See, here…”
The conversation dies down into whispers and for a moment, you think they’ve managed to talk Shikamaru down. Minutes feel like hours as you strain your ears to catch any bit of noise you can from the room. Taking a deep breath, you release the death grip you’ve had on the wall when nothing happens.
‘Its okay. He’s okay.They got him down.’
“GET OUT AND DON’T COME BACK UNTIL MY Y/N HAS BEEN FOUND!”
Or not.
You wait a few moments before the door opens and you see Kiyoshi and another of his assistants exit. You can make out someone behind them and when you see who they are, your nerves all collectively set themselves on fire with worry again.
Asuma Sarutobi. They had to call Asuma. It's never good when they have to call Asuma. It's really not good when they have to call Asuma when he’s supposed to be a country away dealing with Ino’s training. It’s extremely not good if Asuma failed at getting Shikamaru under control.
“We need to find them,” he sighs, world-weary. The steady timber of the older man’s voice is deep and graveled in an odd mix of soothing and stern despite being laced with concern. The bags under his eyes are dark and deep, speaking of what must have been endless nights dealing with your mate. “Shikamaru will not be able to calm himself unless he sees them. He’s already hallucinating.”
“Even if they are…” the assistant trails off. He’s new, you recall. Sent from the Oasis as part of a new negotiation with King Rasa to exchange medical knowledge if the cut of his coat was any indication. His knowledge of Nara interpersonal relationships must be just next to none.
“Especially if they are. He’ll need to see the body himself to know they are gone from this world. He’ll lead us all to damnation in search of his Chosen.”
The doctor nodded sympathetically, “Shikaku will have to choose a new heir to take the throne.”
“Why?”
“Nara’s don’t live long after their Chosen passes unless there are pups born from their union,” Asuma rubs his face, “The Prince and his Chosen made the decision to postpone producing heirs for the time being. Navigating the longstanding effects of their separation has taken precedence. Shikamaru does not feel ready for pups and his Chosen prioritizes Shikamaru's health in all things first and foremost. If Y/N has died, Shikamaru will not be too far behind as soon as it's confirmed.”
The atmosphere in the hall is thick and heavy as the reality of the situation seems to take root in the three men. Discomfort licks along your skin.
“Master Sarutobi!”
Rounding the corner on the opposite side of the hall, Botan’s pace is as frantic and hurried as is appropriate for a royal guard. Their voices drop to whispers you can’t hear but the look on Asuma’s face suggests that Botan has brought them unfortunate news. All four of them turn and walk in the opposite direction, their pace as quick and hurried as Botan’s had been a moment previous.
Everything is suddenly oppressively quiet again.
‘I should probably go inside and get Shikamaru sorted out,’ you think belatedly, forcing your legs to walk towards your bedchamber door. You slip inside quietly, locking the door behind you.
Shikamaru’s back is to you and you take a moment to look around the room before he realizes he isn’t alone. The damage wasn’t as extensive as you thought. He had indeed flung a vase, the remains of it scattered across the other end of the bedchamber. There was a broken chair laying across the small table Shikamaru liked to play Shogi on, also broken. Several of Shikamaru’s mounted antlers had found themselves embedded in various paintings and cushions.
The thing that stands out to you most however, is the papers all over the floor. Neither you nor Shikamaru dealt with paperwork in your bedchamber. The desk was only equipped with smaller papers used to send notes or leave reminders.
When you look back at your mate, you notice him shaking and it's enough to break you from your silence.
“Beloved,” you say, keeping your voice clear. You wish to say more - even though you don’t necessarily know what it is you want to say - but your mate jolts almost violently to face you. Shikamaru’s face turns a deathly pale when his eyes lock onto yours, his eyes blown out as you enter the room. You don’t take your eyes off of him as you take a step further into the room, away from the door. The sour scent is thick in the room, poisoning the air as it radiates from your mate in thick waves, and you almost gag when an even thicker, more rancid scent bleeds into it.
He is afraid. Down to his soul, he is afraid.
Slowly, you start releasing a calming scent, letting it gently spread around the room, clinging to walls and floorboards to drive away everything else.
“I heard you were looking for me,” you start, cautiously.
Shikamaru’s face reddens, rage dripping from his fangs as he hisses, “I’m looking for my mate.”
“But I am your mate,” you assert, “I am Y/N Nara, consort and Chosen to the Prince Shikamaru Nara.”
“How do I know you are who you say you are?” he growls, the sound hoarse, gritty, like footsteps over gravel. “Huh! How do I know you are not another deception? How do I know you aren’t Inoichi attempting to relieve me of my pain?” He crumbles, hands grasping over the back of the chair to hold himself upright. His body trembles violently. “Don’t...don’t give me hope...Where is my Y/N? Have I lost them again?”
It hurts you to see him so broken. Blood pours from the wound behind your ribcage.
“How do I know you aren’t a ghost coming to tell me I am alone again?” His voice is a whisper now, his eyes staring blankly at the wall to your right. You don’t need to look back to know he’s staring at your wedding portrait. It is his favorite possession, so much so that they had to remove it from the great hall with the rest of the royal wedding portraits because of how much of a distraction it became for him.
You approach him slowly, carefully. He allows it, regarding you with all the exhaustion of a dying man. His pretty brown eyes are red rimmed and glazed, tears resting along the bottom but unwilling to fall as he stares at you, his hands hovering over your face as if terrified to touch you. Your heart squeezes at the darkness under his eyes, the sunken paleness of his face.
“I am no apparition, beloved,” you whisper, reaching up to gently guide his hand to your face, “I am flesh and blood and love for you. Feel me.”
The noise he makes is choking and grotesque, “You...you are cold like death.”
You aren’t but it would do no good to point it out to him. Your mate is not within the realm of clear, coherent thought.
“I have been without your warmth,” you croon, taking a step closer so your bodies are touching, “Breathe deeply Shikamaru.”
Shikamaru does as you say, his eyes flashing and pupil’s dilating when your scent finally reaches his nose. His delusion breaks, shattering like glass. Your arms reach forward to crush him close to keep him from cutting himself on the shards. You guide his free hand between your bodies to rest it over your heart, letting him feel the organ pulse under your skin. Shikamaru bawls in his relief, wailing into the fabric of your soft linen shirt.
“That's it,” you murmur quietly, letting your lips brush against the tip of his ear, “Let it out. I’m okay. I’m here. I’m so sorry I worried you.”
“I would have joined you,” he sniffs, biting into the fabric of your shirt to muffle his cries, “I can’t stand it otherwise. I can’t do it again.”
“My Chosen,” you whisper, holding him tight as the waves of emotion crash into you, “I am so sorry.”
Your mate croons, removing his head from your shoulder. Keeping a tight hold on you, he pulls you forward and sideways until his back hits the wall right beside the corner of the room. You crush against his front, pinning him tightly. One of his legs wraps around the back of your calf to keep you from moving back.
You regulate your breathing - large inhales and large exhales. Shikamaru’s breathing changes to match yours, his belly pressed tight against yours. His scent burst around you both, saturating your clothes and skin with the scents of trees and linen.
“Where had you gone?” Shikamaru asks finally, putting a little space between you both so his bloodshot eyes can run over the length of your body, “You were not in bed when I came to see you. You weren’t…” His mouth quivers the tiniest bit and it kills you. He catches himself, swallowing thickly, “We checked everywhere.”
“In our alcove. I was disoriented when I regained consciousness, some time late this afternoon. I didn’t know where I was or why I was there.” You clear your throat, the memory of thinking you were a concubine flashing to the forefront of your mind.
“I wandered and ended up in our special place. Everything is a bit of a blur if I’m honest,” you admit, a tad sheepish, “I felt like I needed to get up and go somewhere, get away from the room. I found my way to our alcove and I distinctly remember the sensation of “I’m going to go sit in the flowers because it's safe here.” I must have used all my energy because I fell asleep almost immediately.”
“Idiot Alpha-mine,” Shikamaru sniffs, clinging harder to your body and shoving his face into your throat, “Stupid Y/N. I hate you. You’re going to be swaddled every time you get in bed for the rest of your days and I’m going to be rough about it, I swear it on my life. I have never run so much in my entire life. I hate you.” He punctuates his words with a harsh nip at your throat, right below your mating scar.
He doesn’t. You can smell the relief and adoration oozing from his body. There is an undertone of spice however and it's enough to keep you treading delicately.
“I know. I’m the worst,” you croon, nuzzling as much of him as you can.
“No,” comes the immediate reply and it makes you grin the tiniest bit.
“But you hate me,” you tease gently.
“No,” the nip this time is harder, more insistent. His voice is hard, growly, and you bite your lip to keep a laugh from escaping. “Be silent.”
“Oh we both know I’m incapable of such a thing,” you grin, gently pulling him away from the wall. He looks more like the man you know him to be. His eyes no longer glitter with tears.
“I have never hated silence more,” he whispers, taking a large purposeful inhale of your scent. “If not for your heartbeat, I would have lost myself to madness.”
The air is pulled from your lungs at his statement. It shakes you still, how all encompassing his devotion to you is.
“I adore you,” you whisper back with a watery smile. He presses his forehead to yours, his hands reaching up to rub along your arms and shoulders, pressing his fingers in wherever he feels a muscle. Slowly, his scent loses the sick, burning edge.
You have no idea how long you spend entwined with him before you are reminded of the world around you. As if reading your mind, he pulls away from you, trailing a hand from your shoulder to yours to grasp it tightly. It is obvious he does not want to be parted from you entirely, and given the contents of your last bits of memory, you can honestly say you feel the same. Parting from him felt near impossible.
“Now,” you start, unsure where to even begin, “can you tell me what happened?”
“It would be better to reconvene with my father and get answers from him,” he responds, face pinking before his hands tighten, “Please do not think I am purposefully holding information from you without reason.” His stare was as intense as it was panicked. “I don’t wish to inspire distrust. I just…” His face pinkens as he looks down at the floor, “I haven’t been well. I wasn't privy to a lot of conversations about the incident since my only focus was to make sure you stayed alive. I know some things but not all.”
“Alright, we shall meet with your father and figure out what's going on from there,” is all you can say, kissing his forehead. He sighs at the feeling.
Something white catches the corner of your eye and you are reminded of the papers on the floor.
“Can you tell me why there are papers all over the floor?”
Shikamaru tenses once more, his mouth wobbling in a shadow of a grimace, “Someone left these on your pillow.”
He pulls away from you to pick up all the papers from the floor, refusing to look at them directly even as he puts them back in some sort of order. He hands them to you before curling up against your chest, nose directly against your pulse and fingers wrapped in the fabric of your shirt.
On top, there was a note, written by Lord John if the decidedly lazy scrawl was anything to go by.
I’ve taken the liberty to start these for you.
Underneath the note are several documents. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had sent your mate spiraling.
On the top was a death certificate. Followed by an order form for a casket, a list of available priests should your next of kin decide for one, a copy of your will and testament with recent ‘changes,’ and several inheritance disbursement forms.
All the papers were filled out with your information, the time and date of your ‘death’ aligning with the time and date you had fallen unconscious.
“Slimy little wretch,” you growl under your breath before tossing the papers on the desk.
^^^^^^^^^^
The adults disappear behind large wooden double doors, leaving you alone with the prince. Well, as alone as you can be with guards stationed everywhere. The Great Hall was massive and beautifully decorated. It was obvious a lot of care went into designing the castle, every nook and cranny you could see carved and detailed with precision. Countless paintings adorned the walls, lit by the sun through the open windows.
Shikamaru stands in front of you, his face still just as bored as it had been a few moments ago. It was obvious he had no intention of breaking the silence between you both. Feeling anxious, you decide to break it yourself.
“My name is Y/N Y/N, heir to the throne of the L/N kingdom of the Eastern Realm, ward of the palace and first of my name,” you introduce yourself with a smile and a bow.
The Omega offers a more subdued, polite smile, “My name is Shikamaru Nara, heir to the throne of the Nara kingdom of the Western Realm, son of King Shikaku Nara and Queen Yoshino Nara and first of my name.” He mimics your bow.
“A pleasure,” you hum, trying to remember all the appropriate forms of greeting.
“Agreed.”
Silence befalls the room once more as you stare awkwardly between each other and different parts of the room. It's reminiscent of home, where silence echoes along the illuminated hallways and bounces off all the gleaming, cold metal but in the same breath, vastly different. It felt warmer, somehow.
And in that moment you remembered.
“I wish to see the flowers,” you announce suddenly, reaching a hand forward, “They were very pretty from the carriage window as we arrived but I’d like to see them closer. Would you join me? Show me the way?”
He perked up, “I can show you my favorite hillside. I like to nap there when I’m bored of my lessons.”
Shikamaru takes your hand, warmth immediately flooding your arm but you pay it no mind, more eager to play with your new friend than focus on why your hand felt tingly.
The dungeon is located below the ground floor, underground and only accessible by a single winding staircase. There are several guard posts that must be passed to goon way or another. The first time you were brought down here, Shikaku informed you that many dungeons failed because they were above ground, often with windows and other doors as entry and exit points. There were too many ways for people to escape, especially if they had someone aiding them.
You told him that the dungeon in your castle wasn’t capable of being underground because it was built into the mountain so the dungeon was placed at the side of the mountain. If your prisoners wanted to try their hand, they had the choice of trying to get past the guards or going through the window to fall to their deaths because there was no slope or ledge for them to climb anywhere.
Shikamaru enters the dungeon before you do, keeping a hand on you at all times. He pokes his head in through the door, looking back and forth before walking in and allowing you to follow him. Inside, you see King Shikaku and several guards on one side of the room, opposite of the numerous holding cells that went deeper underground
Shikaku greets you with a nod and a smirk, “Welcome back to the land of the living.”
“Great to be back, though I’d like to know why I left in the first place,” you chuckle lightly, allowing Shikamaru to curl up as close as he can while standing and throwing an arm around him. His face falls into your neck.
With Shikamaru preoccupied, you mouth, ‘How bad has he been?’
Your father-in-laws face says everything as he mouths back, ‘Don’t do it again.’
Rolling your eyes, you mime crossing your heart just in time for Shikamaru to pull away from your throat.
“Where is the Queen?”
“Upstairs dealing with a rather unpleasant turn of events.” The King’s voice reflects the ordeal everyone has been dealing with in your absence, “But that is a matter for another time. For now, follow me.”
He turns on his heel and you both follow him dutifully as he takes you all the way to the end of the tunnel-like room. It opens up a bit at the end, the walls pressed outward to create more space. Inside the space, there is a table and a few chairs where you all seem to naturally convene around. One of the guards quickly lights the torches all across the wall, illuminating the space quite nicely.
Lord John is sitting in his cell, the one furthest from the single exit, bathed in the darkest of shadows. He wore the simple gown of a prisoner, his person stripped bare of all his pomp and accoutrement. His wrists and ankles are linked by a chain that is connected to the wall in several places. A bit unnecessary given his lack of real strength but you surmise Shikamaru insisted on it.
He’s spiteful like that.
“How are you alive?” the Beta man screams when he catches sight of you, face turning a concerning shade of purple, visible even in the darkness. Spittle shoots from his mouth as he rages behind the bars. He throws his body forward but the chains keep him from getting far.
It's enough to send your mate into a frenzy though, because of course it is.
“No,” you huff, grabbing Shikamaru around his waist and pulling him back against your body as he lunges for the bars.
“Please,” he hisses back but he makes no movement to break away from your hold. Instead, he turns and puts his hands on you, strategically placed to know the moment you feel any sort of weakness that may cause you to tumble.
The Beta continues to rage, speech degrading into nothing more than incomprehensible noises of anger and half-formed words. Shikamaru continues to snarl beside you, both hands tight around your body as he glares down at the wailing man from over your shoulder.
“Do you ever get tired of the taste of talking?” Shikamaru growls before nodding at one of the guards, “Gag him. I wish for his silence.”
“What happened that night?” you ask, turning away from the cell. You didn’t really want to look at the prisoner any longer. “All I remember is falling into darkness. Someone screamed, I think.”
Shikamaru’s face turns pink but says nothing. You choose not to point it out.
“Lord John made a direct attempt on your life. The chocolate balls you enjoy were laced. Lord John knew of your love of chocolate and my distaste for it so he knew I would not ask for one.”
You resist the urge to snort. ‘Ask.’
“We ordered for his arrest, he tried to fight it by releasing shoddily made smoke bombs. When that didn’t work, he took one of the Omegas hostage. When that failed, he tried to run to the window but he could not fit through the opening and got stuck. We made the arrest after prying him out.”
You turn your gaze to look at the prisoner, eyes squinted in disbelief.
“Unfortunately, we lost four of the Omegas. In the confusion, they fled under the cover of the smoke bombs.Our prisoner has been in this holding cell in the dungeon since you fell unconscious. He’s monitored all hours of the day and night.”
“Only four?”
“Yes. Two of Omegas are accounted for. One is in the morgue..”
“The morgue?”
“Hmm,” your mate hums, “The short one that interrupted our mating. His hostage. Accidently cut her throat and she bled out on the floor.”
“Ah.”
“The four that managed to flee are believed to be heading towards the mountains. The Akimichi have been informed. Chouji is leading the search parties himself.” His eyes narrow as he thinks.
“You don’t believe that do you? That they are in the mountains.”
Shikamaru smiles gently over at you, softening impossibly, “You know me so well. No, I do not. Not for all of them at least.”
“And the other Omega? The second one we have accounted for…?”
“That would be me,” a silky smooth voice interjects. The redhead Omega sat a few feet away in a chair propped against a wall, unchained and unbothered as she cleans her knives.
You look between your mate and your father-in-law in confusion, “Isn’t she the…?”
“The one who was ‘attacked’ by a Nara guard? Yes. Y/N, this is Maki Uchiha. One of the Uchiha Kingdom's finest intelligence agents,” Shikaku introduces as the woman stands and joins you all around the table.
“Oh, well. Nice to meet you. I think.”
You reach a hand out to shake hers but Shikamaru pulls it back and stuffs it into his jacket pocket.
“Shikamaru,” you scold, “Was that necessary?”
“Yes. She poisoned you.”
“Oh I did not,” she bites back, rolling her eyes, “I merely paralyzed them.”
From the deep breath your father-in-law took, you know that this is not the first time they have bickered over the topic. Shikamaru huffs, leaning into your side and avoiding his father’s gaze.
“Anyway, yes I was the one who was ‘attacked.’” She pointedly looks away from your Omega to stare at you. Her eyes are a vibrant red, almost black in the low light, intimidating and seductive, “I was working undercover in the Usami District. My king sent me a letter and reassigned me to do resonance since he believed that our prisoner would head there. He was correct. Further instruction led me to following him here, with permission by the King and Queen Nara.”
She retrieves her bag from the corner and places it on the table, pulling out various papers and setting them on the table, “The prisoner in question arrived in the Usami district looking for Omegas in desperate need of money. His proposal was simple. Accompany him on his travel to a different kingdom as a status symbol and in exchange, he would pay a handsome reward.”
Fussing with a few papers on the top of her spread, she moved them over to Shikaku, “Here is the contract we signed.”
Shikaku reviewed the contents quickly before sliding it over for Shikamaru to see.
“How many of the Omegas are literate?”
“Aside from me? Only one but his skill is no greater than that of an 8 year old.”
“So he gave them contracts they couldn’t read…” you murmur as Shikamaru scooted to the side to allow you to read it as well, “and lied about its contents if what I’m seeing is correct.”
“You would be,” Maki nods, “These Omegas are destitute, living in poor conditions with no formal education, and engaging in various illegal activities to get by. They were offered a sweet deal with pretty words and coerced into signing this instead. You were correct in your assumption that he was hoping the Prince would be single. His goal was, indeed, to try and be ‘Chosen.’ I don’t know much about what happened in my country but I could parse that Lord John did more than just have a finger in the pot and was desperately hoping Shikamaru would be his salvation.”
Shikamaru’s disgust was palpable, side-eying the Beta behind bars and tucking himself closer to you.
“Why bring the Omega’s at all then? If his goal was to be mated to my Omega?”
“I suspect we were meant to be pawns, to be discarded far from home once he was done with us or left to take whatever punishment he garnered from himself,” she shrugs, “If you can’t tell, he doesn’t seem to form coherent, consecutive thoughts that make sense.”
“So…what? He arrived and decided to kill me?”
“Indeed. You were a threat to his path to promised immunity and safety,” Maki motions over to Shikamaru, red eyes gleaming in the candlelight, “And it certainly didn’t help that you were an Alpha and capable of besting him in combat. He believed that if you died, your mate would undergo another Choosing and well…” She lets her words trail off with a small nonchalant shrug that you know your mate does not appreciate.
“Sneaky, underhanded cockroach of a man,” Shikamaru growled lowly, disgusting rolling off of him in waves. “Thats not how it works.” You felt similarly but pressed it down. You still needed answers.
“Okay, he realizes he won’t win in a duel so he…what? Poisons my snack? How did he manage to pull that off without scrutiny?”
Maki’s mouth pulled tight into a bitter smile, “Arika. The girl he killed. Originally, she and two others were meant to join you for your rut and kill you while your guard was down and your mind otherwise occupied. I was the distraction. He had not been expecting such…resistance from you.”
“Did he think of how Shikamaru would react?”
“No.”
“Of course he didn’t.”
“We were ordered to wait until he was asleep.”
“Shikamaru is allergic to sleep,” you huff, grinning at your mate. He grins back at you.
Maki ignores you both, “And when that failed, he sought to poison you. Arika, the girl he killed, was quite well versed in poisons and drugs. Knew her way around an apothecary. She was not meant for combat so she would drug the patrons that hired her for a night and stole wallets to keep her room at the Inn. She faced a life of slavery if she didn’t.”
“How old was she?”
Your mate looks at you carefully, his eyes roaming over your face intently as he tries to parse out why you felt the need to know.
“18. Abandoned at 10, presumably for being another mouth to feed given both her parents are native to the district. Lord John offered her a way out, both physically and financially. She would have been a fool not to take it, even if it meant killing someone.”
It hurt you how well you understood this girl. There was once a time you felt a parallel desperation to escape the life you had.
“I swapped the vials before she went into the kitchen.The poison and paralytic look very similar so it wasn’t hard to switch them. The only drawback was that the paralytic is intense and if the dose is incorrect, it can cause organ pause. Your heart may have stopped when you consumed it, if only for a moment. Apologies.”
She offers you a small bow.
“Apologies are necessary,” you reply simply, ignoring the protesting squawk your mate releases into your shoulder. At this point, there was nothing you could but forgive, especially if what she was saying was true. Better to suffer from paralysis than die choking on your own tongue.
“They are very necessary,” he hisses into your ear, his scent dipping into something darker, “She needs to apologize so I can never forgive her.”
“Shikamaru…”
“No,” his voice is harsh, his stare hard as he looks between you and the Uchiha.
“There was blood Alpha.” A hint of a whimper bled through his anger. “You fell limp, like all your life had been pulled from your body. Your eyes rolled back. Blood dripped from your nose. You were so…cold…” He takes a deep breath, “You were asleep for over a week. Close to a full fortnite.”
The Omega Uchiha shoots you a curious look, “You shouldn’t have bled…”
“No matter,” Shikaku interrupts, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers and his son huffs petulantly, “We…”
“Stupid Alpha-child!”
You close your eyes and take a deep breath at the interruption. It would seem that Lord John has freed his mouth from the gag.
‘God, if you are there…’
Shikamaru’s hackles rise beside you, “You do not speak to them!”
“You do not tell me what to do, Filthy Omega Whore!”
“Oh what are you on about?” you complain loudly, and yes, you were aware you sounded like a child, but at this point, you just wanted to curl up in your bed with your mate and rest. Being the victim of an assassination attempt while being the future ruler of a kingdom was draining in the worst of ways. This annoying pest of a Beta was taking too much of your energy.
“You are a fool to fall for any of this nonsense,” the Beta spits angrily, “Blindly believing everything you are told. I was sparing you pain. Ask your Omega where he’s been. Ask him who he’s bedded while you lay dying. He certainly wasn’t having his needs and took full advantage of your absence..”
“The only need I had was for my mate to keep breathing,” Shikamaru states, cold and unfeeling. He doesn’t take his eyes off the man as he addresses you, “I was by your side every day. I laid next to you. I listened to your heart and felt your breath.”
“Ha! You really think-”
“Gag him again,” you order one of the guards, interrupting the horrid man, “Add a bite guard. Give him something new to choke on.”
Once he is silenced again, you turn back to Maki and Shikaku.
“What about the papers? The ones left in our bedchamber? How did they get there?”
“They were sorted out beforehand and slipped into the room sometime during our search for you,” Shikaku murmurs, cracking his neck. “Shikamaru discovered the documents shortly before nightfall but they had not been there when we first discovered you missing.”
“You think it was one of the other Omegas?” you ask, looking back at your mate, “Is that what you meant by ‘not all of them?’
Shikamaru nods, “I reason that, instead of fleeing, one of them had planned to finish what was started with the poison…” his voice breaks into another growl, loud and vicious, face contorting viciously before clearing his throat and assuming his composure, “And when they found you missing, they left the documents on your pillow and joined in the search. They did not find you because you took a nap in the dirt like a gremlin.”
With a playful, smug look on his face, he catches the hand you use to push him away from you to keep you beside him.
“Bite your tongue,” you bark out a laugh, struggling to get your hand and arm out of his grip.
“Never,” he croons mockingly, pressing an insistent kiss on your cheek.
“Ew,” Shikaku deadpans, face devoid of all emotion. Shikamaru pauses to look at his father, the most offended look you have ever seen forming on his face. You bite your lip and turn away, the laugh in your throat bubbling dangerously close to the surface.
Picking up a pen from the table, Shikamaru twirls it around his fingers.. A quick glance at his side reveals that his favorite knife (and knife sheath) are missing. Given everything that has happened, it was probably for the best that he not be allowed to carry sharp objects.
“That was part of the back-up plan,” Maki admits, shuffling the papers on the table again, “ This is a copy of the instructions he gave us in the event we were caught or if the poison did not work. We each had an assignment.One of us was to sneak into the royal bedchamber and suffocate the Royal Consort as they lay unmoving.”
“And he wrote all this down?”
“Yes.”
“Oh…bless the stupidity of egotistical men…” you exclaim, voice edged like razors.
“Is there anything else that we need to know?” Shikaku asked, gathering all the papers from the table and rearranging them to his liking.
“This is as far as I’ve got. I don’t know where the other four are but I would assume that the three that took advantage of the distraction and left the castle have stolen aboard a ship by now. I do not think they are a threat.”
The King nods solemnly, “Thank you, Lady Uchiha.”
She says nothing as she bows.
He turns to you and his son, “We will meet tomorrow evening to go over other information we have found and prepare for our prisoner’s transportation to the Yamanakas. Rest now, both of you.”
With the papers in hand, Shikaku leaves you, his footsteps heavy as they echo off the walls of the dungeon. You politely wait for Maki to gather her things, even as Shikamaru starts herding you to the door as well.
“Thank you for all your hard work,” you say, allowing Maki to walk ahead of you, “I appreciate you…uh…not allowing them to kill me.”
Her smile is a tinge sardonic, “My pleasure.”
Shikamaru huffs against your shoulder, hiding aggravated little noises in the collar of your shirt. The female Omega opens the door.
“Before I take my leave,” her entire demeanor shifted into that of a predator as she steps away from the door and glides around you, seemingly unaffected by the warning pheromones your mate was producing, “I must say, I do appreciate your….hospitality…It's very rare to find an Alpha willing to provide clothes to Omega prostitutes instead of the alternative…”
A light wash of her scent filters around you, detailing her interest. Her red eyes gleam mischievously as she looks between you and Shikamaru.
“Feel free to write…” she purrs sweetly, winking as she exits the dungeon.
“You are never giving anyone anything ever again,” Shikamaru growls darkly, eyes stuck on the door Maki disappeared through.
“Shikamaru…”
“No. Start being an asshole.”
^^^^^^^^^^
The castle was large but felt larger still as you weaved in and out of hallways behind Shikamaru until you found an exit that led to the fields. He didn’t stop until you were at the top of a large hill that oversaw much of the expansive fields. The flowers perfumed the land with the sweetest scents you’d ever smelt.
It didn’t take long for you to begin weaving a crown of the bright flowers.
“What are you making?” Shikamaru asked from his place beside you. He had immediately laid down in what he dubbed as ‘his favorite spot’ upon arrival. “Let me see.”
“A flower crown,” you respond, showing him your work quickly before wrapping another flower around the piece.
“But you already have a crown.” You laughed at the way Shikamaru’s face scrunched. You reached up to touch your travel crown before taking it off slowly. The jewels set in the cold white metal shone delicately under the sun. It was a good deal smaller than the normal one you wore at home, less heavy and harsh on your head and neck, but it was still unbearable to wear.
You shrugged, “Flower crowns are prettier. And I don’t get to see flowers often. Not ones like these anyway. We live in the mountains along the sea. Most of my people are miners and fishermen. We don’t grow from the earth, the weather and terrain make it nearly impossible.”
Shikamaru reaches over to pluck your metal crown from your hands, running his fingers along it before dropping it into his lap with a start, “It's so sharp and heavy. How do you wear this?”
You shrug again, subconsciously touching the tiny scars around your temples, “I try not to. They hurt.”
Shikamaru discards the crown to the side with a curled lip, choosing instead to roll onto his belly to watch you work. It didn’t take you long and when it was finished, you plopped it on your head.
It felt infinitely nicer than your other crown, even if it was a bit sloppy and uneven.
“Do you want one?” you ask the boy, reaching over and plucking more of the flowers from the ground.
“I think so, yes,” he murmurs, face flushing pink. You smile and begin weaving.
Shikamaru watches you intently as you switch between grabbing flowers and working them into a circular shape. When all the flowers in front of you are gone, you lean to the side to grab more.
“Oh,” you start, pausing from your work to pluck a white dandelion, “We can make wishes.”
The boy’s face scrunches in confusion, “How?”
“Here,” you hand him the dandelion. “Close your eyes and think of a wish. Don’t say it out loud but when you know what it is, blow until all the petals detach. If they all fly away, it will come true.”
Shikamaru closes his eyes, makes a wish, and blows.
The purring starts as soon as the door closes behind you. Your Omega is demanding, herding you towards the large comfortable bed at the back of the room that was to be your new bedchamber. Shikamaru was adamant that a new bedchamber was necessary since the other one was ‘ruined’ and ‘tainted’ and ‘dangerous.’ He didn’t want to sleep in the same room that so many people entered with ill-intent.
You indulge him because when have you not? If the Omega has decided the den is not safe, it is the Alpha’s job to find them a new one after all.
“Are you well?” he asks, keeping his body glued to yours. His hands do not remain idle as they wander over every part of you they can reach.
You grin, pressing a kiss to his nose, “I am.”
His eyes soften, “Good.”
Stripped bare by your mate’s persistent hands, he nudges you to sit upright in your bed, back against the pillows and headboard. Once divested of all your clothing, an equally nude Shikamaru crawls into your lap. His legs bracket yours as he gets comfortable. The vibrations in his chest get louder as his skin meets yours.
“Come here,” you insist, cradling the back of his head and tangling your fingers in his hair, loose from its normal tie, and bringing it down to your throat. Scent made sweeter, you guide his breathing so he inhales as much of it as possible. A hot, wet tongue meets your gland, lapping at it until it's swollen and pulsing, secreting enough scent to drown a fish.
It feels heavenly and you convey that with a purr of your own.
With your free hand, you rake your claws over the skin of his back gently. His body shakes and shudders in your arms. You slide it down to cup one of his cheeks, a finger rubbing against the furled skin of his asshole. While Shikamaru may not prefer anal, he does like when you tease that hole like you tease his other one. He arches further into you with a breathy little mewl, sticking his ass further into your palm.
The smell of slick is heavy on your tongue, your lap damp where he is sitting above you.
Gently you pull him away, using your hand still fisting in his hair to guide his head up and back, giving you unlimited and unrestrained access to his throat. Scraping your fangs against the skin, you kiss and mouth along the stretch of skin, making sure to leave several little red marks behind. You nip at his scent gland, encouraging it to pump out the heady smell you are addicted to.
You hum happily against his skin.
Leaning back further, he adjusts so he can open his legs wider. He grips onto your knees, displaying himself to your greedy gaze. His body glistens with a light sheen of sweat, pink spreading down his chest and across his face as he exposes the entirety of his body for your consumption. His cock twitches against his belly, a glob of precum dripping down the side. The lips of his cunt are parted the tiniest bit, letting you glimpse the hidden treasure inside.
“Aren’t you delicious?” you croon, trailing a hand from his throat down his body, groping his muscles and flicking at his nipples as you do. The little buds pebble under your attention. Shikamaru lets out a shaky breath as your claw traces over the nubs gently. “Such a strong Omega. I am blessed to be mated to one so handsome.”
You run the hand back up, cupping his jaw and forcing your thumb into his mouth. His eyes flutter as he closes his mouth around the digit. He doesn’t suck so much as he open-mouth kisses it.
You take your spit slick thumb and gently swipe it against his clit as you descend onto his chest, biting and sucking at whatever skin you can reach. You decorate his chest thoroughly, making sure the skin will bruise because you know he likes to press on them. He likes to have reminders throughout the day that everything is as it should be.
A happy moan escapes past his lips at the attention, “I love when you play with me like this.”
“Oh?” you quirk a brow, lips tilted up in a smirk
Your Omega nods, licking his lips as he rocks against your thumb, “Yes. I think of little else than the feeling of your touch on my body.” His voice stuttered around a whimper as he grinds, hips twitching as you rub smaller circles on his clit. “Ah-h. Like that. Just like that. Play with me. Ah-ah. I’m yours. I’m all your-ah.”
“I adore you,” you whisper, shifting your hand to insert two of your fingers inside of him without removing your thumb. His cunt squeezes at the intrusion, slick dripping down over your hand and wrist. He groans.
“That's it,” he croons, arching, “Touch me. I’ve missed you.”
“So tight beloved,” you moan, eyes fixated on the way his slick trailed down your hand and wrist, “And so wet. How fucking needy you are.”
“I have been without you,” he parrots your words back at you,
“No one has touched me in your absence,” your mate insists, “I promise. No one but you has laid with me. I’d never…I don’t think I could take it if someone besides you shared my bed.”
“I know my beloved.”
“You believe me?” Your poor Omega looks so devastated at the very idea that you wouldn’t. You really wish you could kill Lord John. String him up by his guts and hit him with a stick like a pinata until the rest of his organs fall out.
“Of course I do,” you insist, crooking your fingers inside of him just to press on his sweet spot and make him shiver.
“That's-thats it? Just like that? On my word alone, you believe me?”
The confusion in his voice makes you wonder if there is more that has been said in your absence. The look in his eyes confirms it.
“Of course,” you reiterate, pausing your ministrations to look at him directly, “Shikamaru?”
“I can prove I haven’t taken anyone to bed!” Your Omega insists, his scent spiking with anxiety, “I can prove my fidelity. I’d never stray from you. I didn’t…please…I…”
“Remember who you are speaking to. You don’t have to prove anything. I believe you at your word Shikamaru.” You press onto his mating mark with the hand that wasn’t buried inside of him.
His face changes gradually as he mulls over your words. You pump out a wave of calming pheromones. After a few moments, he slumps, relaxed, “Of course you do. Of course I don’t.”
The smile on his face is lazy and soft, his body losing all tension. You move your fingers again, slower. Gentle. Your Omega purrs, going back to rocking on your hand as you bring him gentle pleasure.
“I originally intended to take you in my mouth,” he murmurs, quietly as he stares into your eyes, “Taste my Alpha once more. Slip into the soft Omegaspace you bring me to when you use me in such a way. But now? I want to feel you grow inside of me. Are you amenable?”
Shifting up, he pulls your cock from where it was resting under his ass. Needy brown eyes look down at it where it's resting against his cunt and under his own cock. Even mostly limp, you were impressive.
“Absolutely.”
You remove your fingers from him, grinning at his disappointed whine at the loss, but it's quickly wiped away when he smears his own slick over your hardening flesh. Once it's sufficiently coated, he rolls you both over until he is underneath you.
Settling between his open thighs, you slide into him easily despite the lack of hardness. You let out a shaky breath as he slowly took you in, the muscles expanding and contracting to welcome you. The moan he releases as you bottom out is nothing short of divine, one of his hands curling around the back of your head to bring your face down to kiss you.
“Don’t move just yet. Let me feel it. Ohhhhh….” Head thrown back, he releases a deep, primal Omegan growl. It triggers your own growl, a response from your Alpha to his Omega. Ducking down, you bite and suck at the skin you can reach, brightening the marks you already left. His body trembles under yours.
He pants as your cock grows and pulses inside of him, dark eyes fogging up as he loses himself in the connection, the feeling of you growing more and more aroused inside of him. His legs twitch as your sides, his cunt clenching and unclenching around you as it's stretched. Slick spills from around your intrusion, dampening the sheets below you.
The pleasure is nearly blinding, the feeling of your Omega’s slick cunt around you second to none.. When it becomes obvious that you aren’t going to get any harder, your cock not getting any bigger, Shikamaru’s chest heaves, his mouth twitching up into a dazed smile as you melt into one being.
“You fit inside me so perfectly. I never want this to end,” your Omega murmurs slowly, pressing gentle, chaste pecks on your mouth.
“I won’t let it,” you whisper, lowering yourself down so your body is flush with his, cock throbbing against the soft gummy walls of your Omega’s cunt, “Never.”
“Yea?” he slurs, eyes rolling back a little as he feels your cock leak hot sticky precum inside of him, “Promise me?”
“We are going to grow old together,” you smile down at him, resting on your forearms. His eyes shoot open, dilated and wet and radiating awe up at you. “We may have spent 13 years apart but we will have the rest of them together. Fifty…sixty…seventy years. And nothing is going to stop us. I will not allow it.”
He whimpers breathlessly as he nods, clenching around your cock again, “Yes, yes, yes. I’m yours for the rest of my lif-ah, ah, ah. You’re mine too right? All mine. My Alpha. My conso-ah, fuck.”
You groan around a purr, “I’ve never been anyone else's. I’ve belonged to Shikamaru Nara since he made a wish on a dandelion.”
“Love me,” he urges, momentarily snapping out of his haze to shoot you a look of utter desperation, “Please. I’m ready. Need you to move Alpha-mine.”
“I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” you promise, bracing yourself as you withdraw from the warm, wet heat and slide back in. Slow, gentle, repetitive rocking.
“Yes. Yes. Yessss…,” your mate purrs and your heart swells with pride. Petting a hand down his side, you roll your hips a little more insistently. Shikamaru makes a low, beautiful noise and pushes his hips up against yours, his arms wrapping around you tightly. You are reminded of how horribly he wants you and you hardly know what to do with the feeling. Beyond words, you lick into his mouth.
When you pull away, you lift up and slide a hand down to wrap around the cock that was trapped between you, flicking your thumb over the head and using his own precum as a lube to ease the glide. Your mate is large for an Omega, thick and hot in your hand and you know from experience how good he tastes. His back arches with a loud keening noise and you take the opportunity to lean down to suck at his chest, flicking the pebbled nipples with your tongue.
“That's it. Let me hear you. Let your Alpha hear you.”
The slow, wet slap of flesh echoed through the bedchamber and you were positive that anyone who passed by the door could hear it.
‘Let them hear,’ your Alpha snarls as your knot begins to expand and catch along the rim of Shikamaru’s cunt, ‘Let them know that only you are allowed in this Omega’s bed. Only you have the privilege of mating with this strong, handsome prince.’
“Oh.Oh. I’m cumming,” Shikamaru breathes, whimpering as his body tightens, “Please. Please. I need it. Please.”
“Go ahead beloved. Cum for me. Just like this.”
“Say my name,” he pleads, “Cum inside me. Need to feel your knot break me open. Need to hear you.”
“Shikamaru,” the sound is strangled as you start to crest into your own orgasm.
Your knot popped in and out of his hole deliciously until you couldn’t move it anymore, keeping your pace as gentle as possible. Shikamaru’s arms let you go to splay above him on the bed, leaving himself completely open to you as he kneads the blanket under him. His eyes, doe-eyed and soft, never left your face, even as they flutter in pleasure. He doesn’t say much outside of his cooing moans and breathy sighs but he doesn’t need to. You know.
“Such a good Omega,” you whisper, dropping gently on your forearms to kiss his mouth, “I love you.”
“I love you,” he responds, wispy and gentle, like it was the easiest thing in the world to say. You relish in the softness you rarely see outside of the privacy of your quarters.
Your orgasms are gentle, softly cresting as your bodies locked together. His tie milks your swollen knot as he spills over his own belly, encouraging you to empty inside of him. Shikamaru’s legs tremble as he’s filled with warmth, his mouth dropping open as his eyes flutter closed. Feeling you orgasm, your sticky cum plugged inside of him by the thickness of your knot, was always the most overwhelming part for him.
You were, after all, putting a part of you inside of him.
“I love you,” he repeats, chuckling wetly, tears rolling down the sides of his face as you both come down from your euphoria, “I can’t stand a world without you in it.”
“You are everything,” you gently wipe the tears away, “There is no me without you anymore.”
He leans up to catch your lips, his tongue shoving its way into your mouth. His purring stutters with every pulse of cum you release inside of him, sending shivers of pleasure down his spine. Soft incomprehensible words pass his lips as you take control of the kiss.
In an unexpected burst of energy, you are flat on your back with your Omega on top of you. Still connected by your knot, he grinds down, pulling at the connection to encourage oversensitive bursts of pleasure to crash through you. His internal muscles clench exquisitely, forcing a gasp out of you as he moans, loud and unabashed.
“Again,” Shikamaru pleads, rolling his hips on your deflating knot, “Love me again.”
You indulge him because when have you not?
^^^^^^^^^^
It all happened so fast.
One moment you were happily eating dinner in the Nara castle’s dining hall with Shikamaru, his parents, and your guardian, nanny, and guards. Talks had gone well from what you had gathered from the pleased scent wafting around your guardian but you hadn’t cared much to inquire about it, as Shikamaru had taken a seat beside you and the way he was playing with your fingers was much more entertaining to you.
In the next, everyone was yelling and you were being yanked in two separate directions. The loud rumbling growl that erupted suddenly from your guardian was something you never heard before and it sent shivers of terror along your spine. A rough, clawed hand circled your arm and dragged you from your chair.
“What's going on?” you cry, eyes tearing up at the pain of claws digging into your skin. You try to tug free of them but you are no match for their strength. A smaller hand latches onto your other arm, tugging frantically. Shikamaru’s face is pale, eyes blown in fear as he fails to free you.
“Let them go! They’re mine!” the Omega boy yells, tears furiously pouring out of his eyes as you are yanked harshly from his grip, “You're hurting them! My Y/N!”
“Silence, you horrid demon child,” your guardian snarls at him, to which Yoshino drags her wailing son into her arms, dark eyes glowing in her fury. Her lips curl around her teeth, her own growl low and predatory. A growl worms its way to your throat, sounding no more frightening than a kitten’s yowl but with all the ferocity of an enraged Alpha.
“Don’t be mean to him!” you spit, struggling with every bit of strength you could manage, “Let me go! Shikamaru!”
“Enough,” your guardian yells, smacking you in the mouth before handing you over to one of the guards roughly. Their arms wrap around you in a hold you had no hope of breaking. Shikamaru’s angry scream rattles the walls in the dining hall. “Our deal is off! We come asking for aid and you dare take advantage? Casting your Nara sorcery upon our only heir?”
Shikaku’s face is incredibly dark but he says nothing, letting your guardian dig a hole for themselves. Yoshino’s impossibly black eyes dart between her mate and you, her face softening and hardening in turn as you cry and thrash in tune with her son’s distressed wailing.
“I am not cursed,” you argue loudly, chest rumbling in aggravation, “All we did was play in the flowers! We are going to be friends forever! Let. Me. Go.” You sink your baby fangs in the sliver of bare skin between your captor’s gloves and armor, delighting in the angry hiss he releases.
“Hold your tongue!” Your guardian hisses, fiery eyes glinting dangerously at you. The fear from earlier is gone, dissipated in your own burning anger. They don’t take their eyes from yours as they address the guard holding you, “Take them back to the carriage. We are leaving.
“No! No! Nooooooo! My Y/N! Stop them! You have to stop them! Please!” is all you hear as your guard lugs you out of the dining hall.
You wait for Shikamaru to fall asleep before you slip out of bed. It's a challenge, what with Shikamaru’s death grip on your body, but you manage without much fuss. He stirs briefly, his face pinching in disgust at the disturbance.
“It's okay. Go back to sleep. I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be back,” you whisper gently, running a hand through his loose hair. He hums and settles into the warm spot you just left behind, a quiet “Be quick” murmured into your pillow. You kiss his head.
Slipping on your robe and soft shoes, you grab a candle and leave the confines of your bed chamber. The castle is silent, foreboding in the shadows and darkness, but you fear nothing here. You nod at the two guards who are standing in front of the door, both looking wide awake. You gesture that you are going down the hall. They nod back in acknowledgement, though one of them cheekily tapped their bare wrist at you.
You roll your eyes playfully.
The dungeon is cold, much colder than it had been earlier, but it makes sense since its no longer lit by a row of torches. It's also no longer midday, the coolness of the night somehow chilling the underground.
You nod at the guards at each post and inform them of why you are down there and they allow you passage as long as you promise to not murder the prisoner. Somehow, they don’t believe you when you say you only had intentions to speak with him.
The ‘we wouldn’t blame you if you did’ was unspoken but it was heard nonetheless.
You keep your footsteps light as you walk down the long narrow room.
Lord John is still bound at the other end of the cell, his beady little eyes narrowing in rage as you pull a chair up to the bars, making sure it scratched against the floor unpleasantly as you did. His gag has been removed, likely so he could eat his dinner. The sound was horrid against the stark silence.
“Good evening,” you start, happy and pleasant.
“Go to hell,” he bites, a pathetic attempt at a growl forming in his throat.
“A wise leader knows to never give their opponent the home field advantage,” you respond, leaning against the back of the chair, “But there is no need for hostility. I’ve merely come to chat.
“I have nothing to say.”
“Well I do so I guess I’m going to monologue at you again and you are going to sit and listen,” you pause, tilting your head back and forth, “I mean, it's not like you have a choice. You aren’t going anywhere. Not for a few days at least.”
The Beta huffs, irritated and angry and you can’t find any part of you that cares.
“You caused quite the scene since you’ve arrived,” you start, crossing your arms over your chest, “and inspired distress amongst everyone you’ve come into contact with.”
“Have I touched a nerve?” he sneers, the hint of a smirk on his face.
“I thought you had nothing to say?”
His mouth clamps shut, his Beta scent souring unpleasantly.
“I still don’t understand what you hoped to achieve by killing me. I don’t think I care to think about it any longer if I’m being honest. You were never going to replace me even if your plot had worked,” you sigh, mild exasperation in your tone, “The Choosing doesn’t work like that. Even if Shikamaru survived after my passing, he would Choose someone who is worthy of being a Chosen.”
Fixing your gaze to his, you drop your normal speaking voice to your Alpha one, “You are not worthy.”
Lord John’s forehead vein makes an appearance even as he recoils, body shuddering to reject the sound and the danger it threatens, and it brings you such delight. The Alpha voice is always intimidating, especially when the Alpha rarely ever uses it.
You reregulate your voice to sound normal, “A Chosen is something rare and sacred, a built in protection against trauma bonds. If you had bothered to learn anything about Nara history, you’d know that but I understand if it was too many words for you.”
Lord John continues to say nothing, which you weren’t expecting to be honest. He loved the sound of his own voice. Maybe having the Alpha pheromones stripped away also stripped his confidence?
One can only hope.
“And if you had tried to force a bond while he was deep in despair, the Queen would have summoned all of hell to come down on you,” you continue, “Shikaku may be the King but Yoshino is the one to be feared. Again, something you would have known if you bothered to look into the Nara's involvement in the last war.”
“And then there is the matter of you…writing all your plans down…on paper…multiple times…but we don’t need to rehash all of that.”
You sigh with all the exasperation of a child’s tutor, “Based on all this, I’ve concluded that you are just stupid.”
That gets a reaction. The prisoner shouts angrily and thrashes against his bindings. You watch with passive interest until he gets tired of getting nowhere. You made those chains yourself in the forge with a special blend of metals that you learned in the forges in your homeland, you know how strong they are.
Sweating and panting, Lord John eventually collapses back to the floor.
“Are you done having big feelings?”
The prisoner huffs angrily.
“You asked me what a Nara provides for their Chosen and I never answered, which is quite rude of me. Do forgive my slight.”
You cross your legs and lean forward, resting your arms over your knee.
“You said that Naras don’t provide anything to their Chosen. It's all one-sided. Much like with everything else, you have been wrong.”
Taking a deep breath, you think of the way Shikamaru smiles at you and embrace the calm it provides. “The power I hold over him is unimaginable. It is all consuming. I can ask anything of him. My desires are his. If I so chose,” You drop your voice to a whisper, slipping the tiniest bit of Alpha inflection in it, “I could. I can. He would allow me anything. Follow me anywhere. A lesser person would crack under the weight of such a responsibility.”
Lord John’s gaze wavers under yours but not enough to look away completely.
“Make no mistake. It is no burden. When you become a Chosen, you assume responsibility of your Nara, yes, but you also assume the truest version of yourself. I know myself when I am with him. When I stand beside him, my mind is clear. I search for him in every room I walk in because I wander, lost in a daze - quite literally might I add, I ended up in the garden- you know what, not important- when he is not with me. I have a purpose. He gives me a purpose. I am a foil, a mirror, and a friend as much as I am a lover or a mate. We are a match.”
You stand up, brushing nonexistent dust from your pants and robe as you do. You return the chair to the table before looking back at him through the bars.
“You could never be a Chosen. You are too selfish, too egotistical, too unwaveringly…pathetic. You care little for others, take advantage of those you feel to be below you, and demand for things that do not belong to you. You do not have the courage or compassion to stand as one with a Nara.”
You approach the cell again, slowly, a rolling hunter’s gait. Repelled, your prisoner jerks to press himself against the wall.
“T-to what purpose did you bother coming down here?” he stutters, fear bleeding through his scent for the first time since you’ve known him. He must finally sense the danger he was in.
Better late than never.
“This is the last time we will cross paths,” you grin, giddy, “And I wanted to make sure you knew that you will never have what you so desperately crave. You will go to the Yamanakas for further interrogation and then to the Uchiha for punishment while I stay here, living the life you desire.”
“It was either we have a nice little chat,” you lick your teeth, flashing your fangs at the portly man, “or I give into my rage and pluck your eyes from your skull for looking at my mate, cut your tongue for speaking poorly about my mate, and break every bone in your hands for thinking of putting them on my mate. I wasn’t sure how I was going to feel when I came down here.”
You shrug, slipping your hands in the pockets of your robe, “The Uchiha said that you needed to be brought back alive. They never said you had to come back in one piece. The Yamanakas know how to extract information from the deaf, blind, and mute so you didn’t need to be whole for them either.”
“You are insane,” he spits, tiny eyes filled with an odd combination of hate and fear. His scent grows even more sour, burning into your nostrils.
“I am in love,” you correct with a twisted grin “A common mistake since one so often looks like the other.”
The journey back to your bed chamber is uneventful. There are new guards at your door. Both of them give you a curious look but you wave them off. They crack the door open for you.
Shikamaru is sitting up in bed, propped by God and spite, and he’s glaring sleepily at you as you enter. You smile at him, endeared by the messy hair and mismatched blinking.
“Where…you?” he mumbles crankily, messily swiping the hair away from his face.
“Here. I am here,” you croon sweetly, approaching the bed. Without prompting, he shifts to his knees and ‘walks’ to the end of the bed to greet you. He is still naked from your earlier escapades. He smells of dark, rich earth, sleep, and sex as he barrels sloppily forwards into your open arms. It's divine.
“Bed?”
“Yes, I’m coming back to bed.”
“Sleep?”
“Yes.”
“Sex?”
“Later,” you pause, adding on a quick, “if you want.”
A slow, lecherous smile forms on his tired face as half-lidded brown eyes blink at you slowly, “Always.”
A huffed laugh punches from your gut, quiet and soft as you kiss his brow, “Okay beloved.”
Just as you are about to discard your robe and climb back into bed, the room shakes with rapid-fire knocking on your chamber door.
‘Quoth the raven nevermore.’
You shake your head at the intrusive thought.
Shikamaru hisses at the door, claws digging into the fabric of your robe and sleep shirt as he jerks to complete wakefulness, “What now? Can’t I have a moment’s peace?”
“Apparently not. Put on some clothing. I will get the door.”
Reluctantly, you separate from him.
Gaia is outside the door, looking incredibly nervous as they pace back and forth in small circles outside the door. They mutter to themselves under their breath. The other two guards look at eachother and back towards you nervously.
You don’t fault them for their anxiety. Life has been rough in recent times.
“I hate to interrupt but the Queen has sent me,” Gaia breathes once Shikamaru joins you from the bed, his own robe wrapped tightly around him, “The news cannot wait any longer and it is best if you hear this now before word gets around.”
You share a nervous look with your Omega.
“Go on.”
“A Choosing has happened.”
^^^^^^^^^^
The moon is high when you set off. Getting out of the castle was easy enough, granted that you were now of age to set off on your own without any of your guardian’s lackey’s following you. You took great delight in firing each and everyone of them the moment the clock struck midnight the day of your birthday. Your guardian had been none too pleased but their opinion did not matter any longer.
You are an adult now, capable of ruling a kingdom without aid. Your coronation had seen it so.
If that is what you chose, however.
But it wasn’t.
Your letter to Shikaku Nara had not been returned and you could only hope that meant he understood your intentions and was waiting for you, ideally without any hostility. In the years following the disaster of a dinner, your guardian did everything in their power to burn bridges between your kingdom and the Nara Kingdom. While smaller than the Nara’s, your kingdom had a monopoly on a vast majority of the mountains and the sea and all its contents on your side of the country. The Akimichi may have their own mountain region but their mountains yielded very little in terms of resources and skill needed to handle such resources. Nothing like what your kingdom could provide.
Still, even if there was hostility, even if you were walking into a trap, it would be worth it to see Shikamaru one last time. It didn’t matter if he hated you. If he executed you himself.
He was worth taking the risk for.
It took a few days but all your cessation paperwork was complete, leaving the entirety of the kingdom to a cousin of yours. She is a few years older and had been in line for her own throne until her parent’s suddenly produced an Alpha heir and removed her from her position. She may dislike you but the whole situation left a bad taste in your mouth and she would be a better ruler than anyone currently in line for your throne.
While you may not love your people enough to stay, you loved them enough to leave them in capable, competent hands. She would take care of everyone.
She also hated your guardian as much as you did so that was a plus.
Traveling from your old home to the Nara Kingdom was treacherous and long. You avoid main roads for most of the journey, trekking along the more dangerous paths to keep from being tracked. No one with a sane mind would pass through the canyons deep in the north side of your mountain but with your choices being ‘get caught’ and ‘ traverse through horrible terrain’, you have little choice. You have no real allies. You have no real connections. There is no one to help you if you are dragged back to the kingdom you abandoned.
Word spreads of your departure and abandonment quickly, which puts a damper on your plans. Your journey becomes much harder and requires several disguise changes before you are safe enough to rent a room to sleep in or a carriage to take you through the desert. Throughout it all, you go back and forth on how you are going to plead your case to Shikaku.
You’ve made peace with all the possible outcomes but still, it felt right to offer some sort of apology or…something. You didn’t have money for a gift but you were capable of working so maybe you could offer free labor.
There was no guide waiting at the treeline of the Nara forest and for the first time since you left, you felt trepidation.
The forest is still as magical as you remember it being. You step over into the growth and the path reveals itself to you. The indents in the forest floor seem clearer, like it is sucking in a breath to make the path more prominent. You stay on the line as closely as possible, keeping your eyes towards the total blackness.
The journey through the forest seems a lot shorter than when you were a child but you chalk it up to the world being so much larger to a child than to an adult. When the trees start opening up and you can see the sky again, the sun has risen, glittering between the branches and leaves at the canopy.
The path stops abruptly as deer start emerging from behind the brush. They pay you no mind however, walking past you as if you were a normal part of their environment. You don’t pay them much mind, however, as the gate to the castle comes into view.
You see four guards - two on each side of the gates - and your stomach sinks when they all look at you in tandem.
‘Well, at least I managed to change my clothes before I showed up,’ you think to yourself, straightening your shoulders. Faux confidence comes easy to you as you take a deep breath and approach.
“We’ve been waiting,” one of the guards - an Alpha male - smirks before you can open your mouth, “You took very long.”
“I was on foot for most of it.”
“Welcome,” another says before the Alpha can respond again and you recognize her immediately. Her hair is much shorter now but one of the sides is still shaved, displaying her inked skin. The tattoos have been added to and obviously outlined in recent years.
“It's nice to see you again,” you greet, bowing your head slightly. She grins a little, flicking her hand and allowing the gate to open.
With a deep, shuddering breath, you walk through the gates, long enough to catch the tail end of whatever the king was saying to his son.
“But don’t take my word for it. Ask them yourself. They’re here.”
In a flash, Shikamaru meets your gaze, dark brown eyes focused on you as intensely as they had been in the fields and the world falls away as you approach the castle.
The following week is a mess of meetings and deliberations. The King and Queen ultimately decided to leave the decision of the matter to you and Shikamaru, a test of your ability to lead. They will offer you aid in your decision-making but will leave the final verdict to you. They will enforce whatever you and your mate agree upon.
“This is a matter that pertains directly to you both,” Yoshino had said, a small sad smile on her mouth as she gently grasps your hand in hers, “Only you can decide what is appropriate. I trust you will make good choices.”
This was a good idea in theory but proved to be more tumultuous than predicted, since Shikamaru spent most of the time being in a very unforgiving and spiteful mood during deliberations. The full force of his brutal tactician training had come forth intensely, laying a fifty part argument at your feet about why he favors one side of the argument and why it's the best course of action.
You, on the other hand, countered his arguments from a less practical, more forgiving heart, something that left him frustrated and sitting with his back to you on your lap and refusing to hold your hand. To his credit, he took your words in and contemplated them, asking follow up questions once he got past the initial aggravation. He heard you and was listening, even though he really felt strongly in his stance.
Once a decision was made, preparations quickly followed, and before long you found yourself sitting on the throne that will one day yours. Shikamaru sat to your left, on his father’s throne, dressed in the royal blue attire you are so fond of. Your own attire matched his, something he was quite insistent on.The King and Queen stood off to the side of the podium. There were two guards at the door.
The Great Hall was empty otherwise.
“Let them in,” Shikamaru ordered, keeping his eyes steadfast on the door as it opened. Two figures walked in, arms wrapped around the other, and the door was quickly closed behind them, the sound terrifying in the silence. The guards stayed outside.
“Approach,” Shikamaru ordered again, back ramrod straight against the back of the throne. You mimicked his posture.
Kohaku Nara, loyal guard and lifelong friend to Shikamaru, stepped forward, arm wrapped protectively around one of the Omega’s from Lord John’s entourage. You hadn’t paid much attention to him during his stay, the only interaction being when you asked him if the clothing you had provided for him was good enough.
He is a sweet-looking thing with large blue eyes and golden blonde hair. He’s a good deal smaller than Kohaku and much more beautiful. In another life, you imagine he would have taken your fancy.
The two stop a few feet away from the throne podium, dropping to their knees to bow before you both. Jin’s body shakes in fear, his normally sweet Omega scent bitter with it. Kohaku does his best to calm him, a burst of calming scent wrapping around the Omega. His hand reaches over to stroke one of Jin’s.
“It was brought to our attention that you have Chosen,” Shikamaru begins, keeping his voice purposefully neutral as he addresses Kohaku, “and that your Chosen is the Omega Jin. From my reports, you apprehended the Omega as they attempted to sneak out of the castle and the Choosing occurred then. Is this accurate?”
“Yes my Prince,” Kohaku raises his head, “My Chosen is Jin Mugan.”
“I am sure you are aware of the dire circumstances they have found themselves in,” your mate says, waiting for Kohaku to nod before continuing, “And of the punishments for the crimes they have been a part of since entering the kingdom, both under duress and of their own discretion.”
Kohaku flinches, tucking his lips around his teeth to keep from baring them. You shoot Shikamaru a warning glance.
“My mate and I have spent a week in negotiation about what to do with you both. You can imagine that I am not his biggest fan.”
“Please!” Kohaku interrupts, frantic, “I beg of you! Please let them go! We will depart and never step foot in the kingdom again! I swear it on my life!”
“Quiet,” Shikamaru bites, exhaling roughly. His hand reaches over to hold your own, letting them lay together on the cushioned table between the two thrones.
“That will not be necessary. You are not being cast away. Jin will live,” Shikamaru’s eyes are sharp as he looks between Jin and Kohaku, “But he will work outside the castle. I have contacted Lady Berta down in the village and she is willing to train him in her craft and keep him under observation. He will not be allowed to move about the kingdom freely. He will be under intense supervision until I have decided he is worth trusting. As for you, you will be temporarily stripped of your titles and guard uniform while you undergo your desensitization training and adjustment to your new conditions.”
“Thank you My Prince,” Kohaku bowed, his voice trembling, “I cannot say enough about what this means to me and Jin.”
“Unnecessary. I know what it's like. Choosing is powerful,” Shikamaru addresses the guard, words heavy with meaning, “My mate has convinced me that he is deserving of a second chance, if only because all he has done was deliver a parcel of documents on Lord John’s behalf. A messenger that was paid to be a messenger. He is harmless.”
Shikamaru does not mention the instructions Lord John had given Jin in case the poisoning did not work. He does not mention that Jin hid in the castle instead of fleeing like the others had. He does not mention that Jin had been ordered to cut your throat while you slept and that, if you had not gotten up and wandered away, he would have done so.
His face hardens as he turns to the Omega, who flinches the tiniest bit. Kohaku, with great restraint, suppresses his snarl. “Given that my Chosen is the one whose life was nearly stolen, I am willing to concede to their wish to pardon you. They have a large heart. You would do well to remember their kindness and remember that you are alive because they wish it so. If at any point you step out of line, I will personally execute you.”
The Omega nods frantically before bowing once again, “I shall. I shall do everything I can to prove that I can be trusted. Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“Lord John has been sent over to the Yamanaka kingdom for further interrogation and from there will be sent to the Uchihas but that doesn’t mean much given your particular circumstances,” you decide to chime in, the look on your mate’s face telling you that he is beyond done with this interaction, “Thus I have taken the liberty of having an escort retrieve your mother and relocate her to the village.”
“What?” Big blue eyes stare at you in amazement. Kohaku eyes you warily, the beginnings of jealousy bubbling under the surface.
“Lord John purposely went after Omegas who were vulnerable and in need of resources without the ability to obtain said resources. From a reliable source, I found that you signed your contract because he promised you that your mother will get the medical treatment she needs. I consulted our physician who informed me that while the medicine is cheap, it is incredibly expensive to have it sent to the Usami District. Your mother will get her care here from now on. We have excellent doctors in the village.”
“Thats…thats too kind,” the Omega blurts out but his body loses all tension, as if he were a puppet who had their strings cut. Perhaps, maybe he was. “I.…”
“I do not believe in punitive justice, especially in cases where a much more peaceful resolution can be made.”
You watch as the couple embrace, nuzzling at eachother happily. Shikamaru rolls his eyes and ushers them out quickly, his threshold for patience overflowing. Shikaku and Yoshino leave their posts to squeeze your and your mate’s shoulders.
“Well done,” the King praises, clear approval in his voice. It fills you with pride.
“You are both on the right path, “Yoshino agrees, forcing a kiss to her son’s cheek. He squirms away and you laugh at him.
“Troublesome,” Shikamaru grumbles, getting off the throne and yanking you out of yours, “I’m taking my Alpha to my room for a nap. I don’t want to be disturbed until dinner time.”
He doesn’t allow anyone to say anything about it but you do hear your in-laws chuckle as the doors close behind you.
“I’m proud of you,” you smile, kissing his temple as you walk down the corridor at his side. He grumbles petulantly but the pink on his cheeks tells you he’s thrilled about pleasing you.
“I am mind but you are heart. I value your opinion in all things, even if it pains me,” he sighs, “You have the training to rule and will have equal say over how we run the kingdom once we ascend to the throne. I trust in us as partners.”
“So sweet beloved,” you coo playfully, pinning him to the closest available wall to kiss at his mouth.
He allows it before nudging you lightly, “But if you ask me to forgive another person who made an attempt on your life, I will lock you in the deer pen. I can’t handle it a third time.”
“I know, I know. I give you my word that the next time someone tries to kill me, you can roll around in their blood like the little psycho I know you are.”
“Shut up,” he bites your mouth.
“Never.”
^^^^^^^^^^
Shikamaru pulled you into the garden hastily, not giving you a moment to change from your sleep clothes to something more appropriate. You had woken up less than an hour ago, startling into full wakefulness when his face immediately appeared above yours. He pressed his nose to yours, purring happily at seeing that you were waking.
“Come with me,” he had said, gently herding you out of bed with gentle but insistent touches.
“Where are we going?” you can’t help but ask as you slip on some soft shoes.
“I have a gift for you,” he smiled brightly, dark eyes sparkling before looking away nervously. Two of his fingers wrap around two of yours hesitantly, unsure. You squeeze the digits between yours and his face pinks beautifully.
The opening of the alcove is hidden by a curtain of wildflowers. He pulls it back and allows you to enter first before walking in front of you. He pulls you down the short pathway before turning around to face you.
“It's not finished but…this is my wedding gift to you,” he demures, pressing against your front sweetly. “This is our place. Me and you. No one else.” You smile at him, wrapping an arm around the small of his back.
“Show me.”
He does, walking backwards until you are standing in the opening of the large circular part of the alcove.
“I plan to put a hammock between these two trees. The weaver I hired will be done with it by the time our honeymoon ends,” he says, pointing at the aforementioned trees.
“It's lovely,” you croon, looking around the inner alcove in complete awe.
“Oh well,” your intended’s face turns pink, “I’m glad you like it.” He coughs, not meeting your eyes, before he starts to gently tug at your hand, “Come. Sit with me.”
The floor of the alcove is completely covered with soft mosses and the same wildflowers as the ones in the field. He sits you down against one of the trees and climbs into your lap facing you. His arms wrap around your neck.
“I…” he clears his throat, “I originally intended to bring you here after our marriage ceremony before the reception but the more I thought on it, the more I thought bringing you beforehand was the better idea.”
“Why?”
Brown eyes dilate as he pauses to examine your face. His fingers knead at the muscles in your back and shoulders. He is heavier than he looks, all strong, lean muscle, but the weight is comforting.
“Years ago, I closed my eyes and wished for my Chosen on a dandelion. I opened my eyes and there you were,” he murmured shyly “Naras all know about the Chosing. We are told as soon as we are old enough to ask where babies come from. They say we get a best friend,” He huffed a small chuckle, playing with your fingers. “It can happen at any moment so it's pertinent to be informed but no one can really prepare you for when it happens.”
His face turns sad, “I wanted to always remember that day so I had the gardener work a blank patch of garden to create this spot for the day you returned to me. It took years to get the plants to grow into the shapes I needed but it worked well enough in the end. I could come here and think of you when everything got to be unbearable.”
The look on his face brightens considerably, “And now you are here. We are getting married in less than three days and I decided that I want you to kiss me here,” his voice drops to a whisper, closing the gaps between your faces, “I don’t want to share our first kiss at the altar for everyone to see.”
“I didn’t know my mate was such a romantic,” you couldn’t help teasing as you pulled him closer. He crawled over your lap, settling with his legs bracketing yours. It went over his head, his face flushing intensely as he looked down on you. Dilated brown eyes locked onto your mouth before a shaky finger reached up to touch your bottom lip.
They widen when you take his hand and turn it over to kiss along his palm and finger tips.
“I’ve thought of little else besides you,” you admit cautiously, “You and the flowers. It has gotten me through some truly awful times and I knew that as soon as I was of age, I would make my way back to you somehow.”
He purrs happily in response.
“And while we barely know each other,” you continue, “I will pursue the knowledge as a starving Alpha. I will know you. I will give you everything.”
“I only need us.”
Gently, you guide him down and press your mouth to his….
The sun is warm where it filters through the branches and leaves through the top of the alcove. The hammock sways lightly as you and your mate rest together. There is nothing innately indecent about your touching but one could argue that having your hands resting under Shikamaru’s trousers to knead at his plump ass was far from innocent.
It didn’t matter though, because Shikamaru liked it
“I’m bothered,” he huffs, giving up on his latest quest to get you to slide your hands down lower.
“About what?”
“The blood.”
“What blood?”
“When you collapsed from the paralytic. Blood ran down your nose. The Uchiha said you weren’t supposed to bleed and the physician said you were in perfect health.”
“Oh. That was probably just a nosebleed.”
The alcove goes deathly quiet, Shikamaru tensing as he removes himself from your chest to hover above you to meet your eyes.
“A what?”
“A nosebleed. It's spring. I have allergies.”
Shikamaru blinks at you, the gears in his head turning so slowly you wonder if he’s malfunctioning. You can see the moment everything clicks in for him and the laughter escapes you before you have a chance to swallow it down.
“You are going to kill me,” Shikamaru groans at you, rolling over to flop on top of you once more. His annoyance bleeds into his scent, “I am going to die of hysteria because my Alpha is made of a single good luck prayer and cheese.”
“Don’t bring cheese into this. It did nothing wrong,” you nudge him half-heartedly, grinning when he goes lax to keep from being moved, “This is our first real spring together. It slipped my mind to tell you that I occasionally have nosebleeds.”
“You’re telling me that the exact moment you ate a chocolate ball and fell unconscious, you had a nosebleed and that's why you bled all over my shirt?”
“Yes. It was quite serendipitous.”
“I will kill you.”
“No, you won’t.”
“I’m not okay with blood coming out of your body. It doesn’t belong out here,” he chuckles, peeking up at you from his resting place on your chest. The light, happy look on his face quickly falls away into one of annoyance as the familiar wetness in your nose makes itself known.
You try not to laugh as the blood drips down to your top lip. You reach into your pocket to grab a cloth and tilt your head back with it pressed against your nose.
“You did that on purpose,” Shikamaru huffed, deeply offended as he rolled so he was facing away from you. “Troublesome Alpha. I’m telling my mother.”
“Of course I did,” you respond sarcastically, the sound distorted thanks to the cloth, “I can control my nosebleeds. You’ve found me out. I was going to keep bleeding with the sole purpose of aggravating my beloved.”
He huffs again, moving his head to bite your thigh gently, “At least you admit it.”
Shikamaru had it on good authority that Naruto and Sasuke had made up, and he wouldn’t be surprised to learn the pair had bonded. They were meant to be after all. Or at least, many of their peers thought so.
It was the reason Shikamaru had yet to go looking for Naruto. He wasn’t certain he could handle another heartache so soon. Mourning Shikaku was hard enough. He didn’t have it in him to mourn what could have been. What Naruto and him had shared and what they could have had together.
Thankfully, Tsunade and Kakashi kept him busy.
Shikamaru managed to avoid facing the truth for a little under 24 hours before Tsunade was summoned to the hospital. The message said Naruto wasn’t doing as well as they had thought. His recovery had slowed significantly.
It made sense if they had locked up his mate right after they bonded.
Still, Shikamaru followed Tsunade to Naruto’s hospital room.
The scent of an omega in distress hit them immediately. Yet Naruto wasn’t acting like one. He was sitting with crossed legs on his bed, listening to whatever Sakura had been telling him with a soft smile on his lips.
He wasn’t hiding in a nest — an instinctual response to trauma. He wasn’t crying or dissociating as Shikamaru had hypothesized.
“Baachan —!” Naruto started.
However, he promptly interrupted himself as he noticed Shikamaru behind Tsunade. His blue eyes widened, and his face did something complicated, his emotions unclear to Shikamaru.
“Shikamaru,” Naruto said at last.
It was barely a whisper, but it still caught Shikamaru off guard. As did Naruto’s next move. The omega got up from his bed, and the alpha took a step forward on instinct.
Was he even supposed to be standing?
Naruto swiftly crossed the distance between them, his exhaustion betrayed by nothing, but a faint blush. Shikamaru briefly thought about pressing his lips to the overheated skin.
But that was before all his thoughts came to a halt as Naruto put his only arm around him. The omega brought their bodies together, leaving no space whatsoever between them. Naruto’s face found itself pressed against Shikamaru’s neck — his nose rubbing his scent patch — and Shikamaru’s breath hitched.
This wasn’t mated-omega’s behavior. Naruto hadn’t received a thorough education on Secondary Genders — Shikamaru knew as much from their shared childhood — but he couldn’t imagine him disrespecting his mate like this. That and the fact Shikamaru couldn’t smell Sasuke on him at all.
He also had a pretty good view of Naruto’s neck. His scent patch was missing, but so was any trace of a mating bite. Had Kurama healed it already? Or was Naruto truly unbonded?
Did it matter?
Naruto was in distress and seeking comfort from Shikamaru, and truthfully, it was all that really mattered to him at that moment.
He took off his scent patch, having completely forgotten about Tsunade and Sakura’s presence.
If he believed Temari, Shikamaru smelled of the forest and something akin to a campfire. Naruto smelled of sunshine, as ridiculous as it might sound. A warm summer breeze, red peppers — the ones used to spice up ramens — and something else he never could put his finger on but was what made Naruto’s scent unique, and the best Shikamaru had ever encountered.
Shikamaru’s arms closed around Naruto and the omega immediately relaxed further against him. His scent was turning from obvious distress to… Was it happiness? In any case, it soothed Shikamaru’s pain. At least partially.
His head fell to Naruto’s shoulder before he tentatively imitated the omega and brushed his nose against Naruto’s scent gland. The omega jumped slightly before clinging to him even harder. His scent got sweeter. It was intoxicating.
“Well, I suppose I’m not needed after all,” Tsunade said.
Shikamaru tensed but didn’t move. Naruto mumbled something against his neck, his lips brushing Shikamaru’s skin in the process and distracting him from trying to make sense of any of it.
“What was that brat?” Tsunade asked.
“I said I’m fine,” Naruto said. Or more like exclaimed a little too close to Shikamaru’s ear but he still couldn’t bring himself to break their embrace.
“Hmhm… You know, we would have understood if you had told us you two were pre-bonded, Shikamaru. Kakashi is actually more capable than he likes Iruka-Sensei and you to think.” Tsunade added.
“We are not —” he started.
There was a slight tremor in Naruto’s hold on his jacket. He needed to choose his next words carefully.
“There hadn’t been any time for anything of the sort,” he said in the end. “Also now the war is over, I was hoping to ask him — you, Naruto — out, on a dat —?”
“Yes!”
They moved just enough to be able to look each other in the eyes. Naruto’s flushed face matched his own.
“But we already went on dates, no?” Naruto asked. He sounded uncertain. “I mean, you invited me to eat every time I got back to the village and I thought… Iruka and Kakashi said you were courting me?”
Iruka and Kakashi, uh? The latest was lucky he was Hokage.
“I was,” he said. “I just wasn’t sure you were aware of it… or if it was something you wanted.”
“Why wouldn’t I want to date you? You are… you! And you were my first friend!”
“Yeah, and you are you, Naruto,” Shikamaru replied. “Usually, omega bond to alphas who match their strength or are even stronger, I’m not —”
“You are strong!” Naruto protested. “And even if you weren’t, I don’t need protection, I need…”
Shikamaru wished they weren’t having this conversation in front of an audience but here they were. (What a drag, ah.)
“I love you,” he said as Naruto trailed off.
There was a squeaky sound in the background that Shikamaru suspected to be Sakura’s reaction while Naruto didn’t outwardly react at first. However, because he had been paying attention to it previously, Shikamaru noticed the way Naruto’s heart skipped a beat.
“Oh,” Naruto said. The brightest of smiles suddenly appeared on his face, his blue eyes watering slightly as they never left Shikamaru’s. “I love you too. A lot.”
Hi! Could I request maybe the reunion between shikamaru and his alpha?? Like from the shikamaru breaking down bc his alpha is late from a mission and his teacher is dead Thanks!!
I think I've written something small about this before, but I'm happy to expand on it! Enjoy <3 ( I didn't realise I'd left this in my drafts, so here you guys go while my arms are sore still haha)
"Shikamaru, you need to sleep," you said gently, holding his face in your hands. Dark circles and stress bitten lips gazed back at you as he shook his head. He had looked worse when you first got home yesterday, but thankfully, after the first hour of cuddling and crying, it had been easy to get him to take a shower with you. Unfortunately, it was not proving as easy to get him to go to sleep.
"No," he muttered, voice hoarse from crying.
"You have to sleep at some point, sweetheart," you pointed out, smoothing your thumbs over his skin. He shook his head again. "Please? For me?" There was some hesitation this time, but he still shook his head in the negative.
It had been twelve hours since you'd returned, but Shikamaru was still firmly stressed and alert, coiled like a spring at every moment, despite your and his parents' best efforts in calming him down.
He was grieving, you understood that. And then a mission had taken you away from him when he needed you the most, you understood that too. You had the greatest patience for him, but he still needed to sleep (and you would also rather like to be able to use the toilet without holding his hand.)
"Shika..."
"Don't. Please, just don't. I'm fine."
He was clearly running on fumes, but you didn't know how to make him rest, other than just letting him push himself until he collapsed. You didn't even know why he was so resistant to sleep. Did he think you would be gone when he woke up even though you had promised to the contrary countless times?
You wracked your brain desperately, as Shikamaru moved his face until it was buried in your collar bones. You idly stroked his hair, allowing your fingers to glide through the soft strands. You needed to soothe him to sleep somehow.
You focused for a moment on the sound of his mother pottering away in the kitchen. You relied on her for advice on handling Shika's obsession instinct often, but she'd been unable to suggest anything helpful this time.
You started to hum, almost without thinking, as though it was an instinct to fill the silence without words. The melody started out as nothing more than a collection of random notes, but slowly, it morphed into one of your favourite love songs.
You sang softly, still stroking Shikamaru's hair in time to the music. Your voice was a little rusty from disuse, but you pushed through the minor discomfort.
A hot tear rolled onto your neck from where Shikamaru had his face pressed. You didn't bring attention to it, you just kept singing through the ticklish sensation.
You sang that song twice before you picked a new one.
And then another.
And another.
Eventually the tears stopped flowing and Shikamaru's breaths evened out. The weight of his head increased and his limbs went completely limp as he finally succumbed to sleep.
You sang that first love song one more time, just to be sure he was truly asleep, before you joined him in unconsciousness.
There was a long way to go, to process his grief properly, to reassure him that you weren't going to leave, maybe some more desensitisation training to help him cope, but everything would feel just a little bit better once he'd had some sleep.
Omega!Shikamaru x Alpha!Reader - The Little Octopus
Ask: Hello!! Could you write Shikamaru and their Alpha help their only pup make a nest? I think that would be so cute! Whether they go shopping together or maybe the pup gets a bit frustrated that it's not just right and something is off? Love your writing, have a good day/night!!!
Answer: Yes! Of course! This ask was super, super cute! I hope you like it!
Word count: 1.7k
Warnings: None.
"This is dumb," Shikadai murmured, kicking at the floor. He looked tired as tired as you felt after an hour wandering around the nesting shop. "I want to go home."
Shikamaru looked just as tired as you, rolling his eyes as he dragged the still-empty floor basket behind him. "You're the one who wanted to come. And if we leave with nothing, I'm going to have to deal with your tantrum later. We aren't leaving until you pick something, so just do it."
Shikadai's lips pulled back into a snarl as he growled at his oma. Shikamaru didn't respond to the challenge, but he pinned his pup with an unimpressed look that only made the growling louder.
"Alright, alright," you soothed, running a hand over your son's head. His growl petered out as he turned to bury his face into your stomach. "That's enough, both of you."
Your poor baby had been struggling with the sudden onset of new emotions and instincts since he had turned twelve. He was a low maintenance child by temperament, but his nesting instincts had been making him irritable and territorial. And everytime you had taken him to buy nesting supplies, he had found nothing he liked, become frustrated, demanded to go home, and then inevitably been moody at his lack of nest, lashing out in every direction, but especially Shikamaru's, who had clearly reached the end of his rope.
It would probably help if Shikamaru had a nest Shikadai could use, but he was a minimal nester who didn't keep a permanent nest and was more than happy with a pillow and blanket thrown on the couch and a borrowed item of your clothing resting on his chest. Shikadai, for all that he was so very similar to his oma, clearly had much more particular tastes that he didn't know yet how to manage.
"Shikadai, we need to get you some nesting materials, even if it's just a few bits before we leave today, okay?" He whined and you shushed him again, scratching at the base of his head where his hair met the bare skin of his neck. "Shikamaru, stop being an asshole."
Shikadai giggled at the unexpected reprimand and your mate sent you an offended look.
"I'm not being-"
"Yes, yes you are," you cut him off, unimpressed. "You're his oma, you need to help him, not make this worse."
Shikamaru opened his mouth to argue, but you interrupted him once more.
"I'm not joking, Shikamaru."
The fight drained out of him at your serious look and a lot of the tension flowed out of his body with a sigh. He passed you the handle for the basket and crouched down beside Shikadai, who removed his head from your tummy when he felt his oma poke him on the back of the head. He bristled at the touch.
"Hey!"
Shikamaru ignored him, grabbing and holding the back of his neck and using the leverage to press both of their foreheads together. Shikadai quieted at the comforting gesture from his oma.
"Sorry," Shikamaru muttered. "Nesting stuff is complicated, okay, you aren't doing anything wrong. Everything you discard as wrong brings us closer to something that's right."
"But-"
"But nothing. You'll find something Shikadai, but no more growling, we're trying to help you."
Shikamaru squeezed where his hand still rested before he let go of Shikadai, who had suspiciously wet eyes and instead picked him up to hold in his arms. Your son laid his head on his oma's shoulder immediately.
"You're overtired, which is making everything worse, so don't worry about walking, we'll hand you stuff to try, and you focus on finding what you like, okay?"
"Okay, oma... sorry."
"Yeah, yeah, I know."
Potential crisis averted, you, Shikamaru, and Shikadai made your way around the store, slowly formulating a plan as you went by narrowing down your son's likes and dislikes as you went. It was certainly heavy on the dislikes, but every piece of information was welcome.
He didn't like wool. He didn't like silk. He actually recoiled at gauze-y fabrics. He wouldn't even touch any blanket that was too fluffy. And he appeared to despise anything with tassels or embroidered designs.
At least, as far as you could tell, he didn't seem to have colour preferences, which would certainly help if you ever managed to find a texture he could tolerate.
Unfortunately, Shikamaru's success at calming your pup down didn't last forever, and with every rejection, he was getting more and more frustrated.
"What about this one?" you said, handing him a small beige cushion. The cover was made of leather, something he hadn't tried yet.
He took the cushion in one hand, but you could immediately tell that it wasn't the right choice. His face fell and he dropped it back into your hands before burying his face in Shikamaru's neck.
"I hate this," he said, voice shaky. "I want to go home."
"I know you're stressed darling, but we're not going home until we've found at least one thing, that's the deal, Shikadai."
He growled and kicked out at you, but Shikamaru easily caught his leg.
"Do not kick your appa Shikadai," Shikamaru's voice was firm. He was a lax parent in pretty much every way, but you were still his obsession, and aggression towards you was not tolerated, even from his own pup. "If you do that again, I will double your chores list for a month."
Shikadai huffed, a weird petulant trilling noise escaping him before he buried his face even further into Shikamaru's shoulder.
You and Shikamaru exchanged exhausted looks over your pup's head. He had been the easiest toddler in existence and you seemed to be cashing in that karma for his pre-teen years.
You both continued walking, passing your way from cushions into cuddly toys. You stopped suddenly as your eyes landed on a little soft octopus toy. It was a warm peach colour, about the size of one of your hands, and much to your amusement, it had a little frown on it's face. You laughed softly and picked it up.
"Here Shikadai, this octopus is just as happy as you are to be here, you should be friends!"
He lifted his head up to scowl at you and then at the octopus toy in your hands.
"I'm twelve, not two."
"Aww, but he wants to be friends with you! I can tell," you teased, playfully running the octopus toy up his arm.
You expected him to push you away or provide you with some kind of damning pre-teen commentary on your teasing, but no such thing happened. Instead, the moment the toy made contact with his skin, Shikadai stiffened so abruptly that even Shikamaru startled. He stared at the toy like he'd never seen anything like it before.
You and Shikamaru exchanged an alarmed look, but before you could do anything, Shikadai snatched the octopus toy from your hand, clutched it to his chest, hid his face back in his oma's shoulder, and then dissolved into heavy, choking sobs.
Oh. Oh, your poor pup was struggling, wasn't he? Your heart melted at the sight. Shikamaru held onto your precious boy even tighter.
"Do you want the octopus, baby?" you said softly, rubbing at his back.
Shikadai nodded his head, but couldn't speak, any attempts at words drowned amongst the tears.
Shikamaru sighed in relief, "good, that's good, that's great Shikadai, good job. One thing is enough for today though, I think."
Shikadai was so grown up in so many ways, but it was moments like this that really highlighted how young he was. Letting him have a rest and some privacy was probably for the best.
"You're right, let's head home."
...
By the time you arrived at home, Shikadai was fast asleep in his oma's arms, the little octopus still clutched tightly to his chest. He hadn't let go of it for a second, even when the cashier had needed to scan it.
Shikamaru tucked him into his bed for a nap before returning downstairs to join you on the sofa. He collapsed on the cushions and then flopped sideways with a sigh, leaning his full weight on you. You shifted to accept him, sliding an arm around his shoulder.
"I thought this was supposed to get easier the older he got."
You snorted, "you wish. This was always going to happen. You don't remember being a moody teen?"
"I was not a moody teen."
"Lies!" You let out a surprised cackle, throwing your head back at the sheer audacity at making such a claim. "Lies and slander!"
"I was not!"
You laughed even harder as he glared up at you.
"Whatever you say, honey."
He huffed, clearly not willing to continue to argument as you laughed at him. You noticed the tips of his ears were pink.
The conversation fell into a lull for a few minutes as your laughter died down into nothing. Even then, the silence held as you each got lost in your own thoughts.
"You did good today," you commented idly, breaking the silence. "It was a bit of a rough start, but you redeemed it."
"Yeah..." Shikamaru said, sighing deeply. "It's been a rough few weeks at work and with him storming around the house and being a terror, I think I was starting to take my frustration out on him. I know I shouldn't do that... I won't do it again."
"You can apologise to him again after he wakes up. Besides, we only came away with a single cuddly toy, we'll be back in that nesting shop before long and you'll have a chance to do it right this time."
"Ugh, don't remind me."
"Sorry," you laughed, not sorry at all. "I take it that you also don't want me reminding you that even after we get the materials, we'll still have to help him build the damn thing then?"
There was a beat of silence as your words sank in.
"I hate you so much," he groaned, burying his face in your neck, not unlike the way Shikadai had been buried in his just twenty minutes earlier.
"No, you don't."
"No..." he whispered, pressing a kiss to the skin just below your jaw. "I don't."
oii. Você poderia fazer um Imagine do Jinshi, ele é do anime diários de uma apotecaria. Poderia ser algo pós hot, o leitor sendo um “médico” da casa verdete e irmão da maomao
Time to relax.
Jinshi × Male Reader.
A brisa fria da madrugada adentrava o quarto pelas frestas da janela. O ar frio resfriava o corpo do homem na penumbra, um arquejo quebradiço deixou os lábios de Jinshi. Os olhos arroxeados se voltaram para o homem em cima de si.
As pernas grossas e leitosas do "eunuco" tremiam de maneira descontrolada, doloridas e completamente marcadas com chupões.
— Você se sente bem? — [Nome] perguntou com um sorriso sacana nos lábios, lentamente o doutor passou o dedão pela glande inchada.
Jinshi não conseguiu responder.
A boca se abria e fechava como se buscasse palavras, mas tudo o que saía eram suspiros pesados, quentes contra o ar gelado da madrugada. O peito subia e descia rápido demais, denunciando o descompasso do próprio corpo.
[Nome] soltou uma risadinha baixa, afastando com cuidado as coxas trêmulas do príncipe, até apoiá-las sobre o colchão. As mãos gentis contrastavam com a intensidade de antes. Pegou a vasilha de água morna deixada perto da porta, o vapor suave subindo e desaparecendo no ar frio. Molhou o pano, torceu devagar, e começou a passar pelas coxas marcadas, limpando cada mancha, cada vestígio, como se estivesse apagando um segredo.
O toque subia, encontrando o abdômen contraído e dolorido. Jinshi soltou um leve gemido, a testa franzida entre o alívio e a sensibilidade. [Nome] manteve o cuidado, o pano deslizando com uma paciência quase reverente, como quem cuida de algo precioso demais para ser apressado.
A brisa fria continuava entrando, mas o calor entre eles não diminuía. Jinshi fechou os olhos, tentando se recompor, mas cada toque parecia roubar-lhe mais fôlego do que devolver.
Já [Nome] apreciava a visão à sua frente. Um suspiro baixo deixou os lábios do médico. Maldita MaoMao. Fora recomendar logo ele, o médico de relaxamento da casa verdete para um eunuco virgem de alto escalão. Um "eunuco", já que o pau ainda estava muito bem em meio as pernas leitosas. Um pau bem gordo e grande por sinal.
Jinshi já não reagia tanto; o corpo, antes rígido e trêmulo, agora se rendia ao cansaço.
A respiração dele começou a desacelerar, um suspiro arrastado escapando dos lábios entreabertos. Os cílios longos tremularam uma vez, e o mundo pareceu dissolver ao redor. O doutor ainda o observou por um tempo, o rosto sereno, o peito subindo em ritmo manso.
Cobriu-o com o lençol leve, ajeitando o tecido até esconder as marcas do corpo. A vela sobre a mesa diminuía, sua chama balançando ao sabor da brisa fria. [Nome] ficou sentado à beira da cama por mais alguns minutos, a mão pairando sobre o tecido, indeciso entre ir embora ou permanecer.
Mas acabou ficando.
. . .
Quando a manhã chegou, a luz atravessava o papel de arroz das janelas, tingindo o quarto com um dourado suave. O cheiro de incenso ainda pairava no ar, misturado ao perfume amadeirado da pele do arroxeado.
Ele se mexeu devagar, o corpo mole e pesado, como se tivesse dormido por dias. Um bocejo discreto escapou, os dedos se movendo sobre o colchão em busca de algo que já não estava ali.
— Acordou? — a voz de [Nome] soou baixa, quase divertida, vindo de algum ponto próximo à janela.
Jinshi piscou, sonolento. Demorou alguns segundos para reconhecer o ambiente e o homem sentado ali, preparando chá com gestos calmos. Os fios [longos|curtos] brilhavam à luz do dia, e a cena parecia mais um sonho do que a realidade.
— ...Sim — respondeu por fim, num murmúrio rouco.
[Nome] se virou, oferecendo uma xícara. — Beba um pouco. Vai te ajudar a recuperar as forças.
Jinshi ergueu-se com lentidão, o lençol deslizando pelos ombros nus. O corpo ainda doía, porém era gostoso. Ele se sentou e encostou as costas na cabeceira da cama, com lentidão aceitou a xícara.
Tomou o chá, os dedos tremendo um pouco, e percebeu o olhar atento do médico, que o observava com um pequeno sorriso.
— Está me olhando assim por quê? — perguntou, a voz ainda arrastada.
[Nome] deu um leve riso. — Porque é raro ver alguém tão calmo depois de um tratamento. Costumam sair com vergonha, rígidos... Mas você parece em paz.
Jinshi desviou o olhar, o rosto corando, e murmurou:
— Talvez seja porque... você não me tratou como os outros.
Meu pedido hihihi. Gostaria de uma fic com o Kakashi do leitor sendo um homem trans e o Kashi não aceitando muito bem, mas gostaria de final feliz!
That's not my name.
Transmasc leitor masculino.
Avisos de possíveis gatilhos: [Nome] tem disforia e começa a ter até paranoia. O capítulo começa com o protagonista antes da transição e chega até mencionar o nome morto. A arte não é minha, devidos créditos ao artista, se não gosta ou não permite o uso da arte, me avise que retirei.
[Nome] abriu os olhos lentamente. O quarto ainda estava mergulhado na penumbra da madrugada, e o silêncio só era quebrado pela respiração calma de Kakashi ao seu lado. Por um instante, ele se permitiu observar o homem que sempre fora seu porto seguro — cabelos prateados bagunçados contra o travesseiro, costas largas voltadas para ele.
Mas havia algo que doía.
Quando se ergueu um pouco na cama, notou que o dono de fios claros dormia virado para o outro lado. Sempre virado para o outro lado.
[Nome] suspirou, abraçando os próprios joelhos por cima do lençol. Desde que havia criado coragem para se assumir como um homem trans, a um ano atrás, tudo parecia diferente. Ele sabia que seu corpo não correspondia às expectativas, sabia que isso poderia abalar, mas não esperava que o silêncio entre eles se tornasse tão profundo. Antes, Kakashi sorria de canto quando seus olhos se encontravam, às vezes roçava a mão distraidamente em seu braço ou em seus cabelos outrora longos — gestos simples, mas que significavam o mundo. O sexo entre eles era a coisa mais gostosa, acontecendo todo dia, nem que fosse uma rapidinha. Havia beijos, banhos juntos. Agora, esses toques haviam se tornado raros, quase inexistentes. Sexo? Não havia mais. Banhos juntos? Pareciam uma história má contada.
Era como se sua verdade tivesse levantado um muro invisível entre eles.
[Nome] se levantou devagar, tentando não fazer barulho, e caminhou até a cozinha. Preparar café cedo havia virado um hábito nesses últimos meses. Algo para preencher o vazio. Enquanto a água fervia, ele apoiou os cotovelos no balcão, o olhar perdido.
"Talvez... ele só precise de tempo", pensou, pela milésima vez.
Mas outra voz, mais dura, sussurrou: "Ou talvez ele não queira mais".
De maneira inevitavel ele se viu lembrando de quando finalmente teve coragem de se libertar, de ser quem sempre foi.
🌨️
O café recém-passado exalava seu aroma pela cozinha. A manhã estava calma, e [Nome] mexia distraidamente a colher dentro da caneca quando sentiu os braços envolverem sua cintura por trás.
— Haruka... — Kakashi murmurou contra sua pele, a voz baixa, carregada de afeto. — Você é tudo o que eu sempre quis.
Ele virou [Nome] para si, segurando seu rosto com carinho, os dedos deslizando pela pele como se fossem moldar aquele momento. Depositou um beijo suave em seus lábios, depois outro, um pouco mais demorado, e sorriu.
— Eu amo você, sabia? — disse com ternura. — Esse cabelo comprido... fica lindo em você.
[Nome] baixou os olhos, engolindo seco. Aquele nome, aquela palavra, aquele elogio — tudo parecia atravessá-lo como uma lâmina. Sorriu para não deixar transparecer, mas por dentro sentia o peito apertar.
Kakashi, inconsciente do peso que suas palavras carregavam, riu baixinho.
— Preciso sair. Pakkun anda exigindo um passeio... aquele cachorro gordinho precisa se mexer.
Roubaram mais um beijo antes de se despedirem, e então o dono de fios brancos saiu pela porta com naturalidade, como se nada tivesse mudado.
O silêncio tomou conta da casa. [Nome] respirou fundo, as mãos instintivamente deslizando pelos cabelos longos. A sensação era de estar preso em algo que não pertencia a ele.
Caminhou até o banheiro. O espelho refletiu a imagem que ele tanto queria esquecer: fios caindo longos e castanhos, delicados demais, errados demais. Na pia, a tesoura de Kakashi repousava, convidativa. Com dedos trêmulos, [Nome] a pegou. O primeiro corte fez o coração disparar. Grandes tufos de cabelo caíam ao chão, um a um, libertando-o pouco a pouco daquilo que não era ele. Quando terminou, o reflexo mostrava um corte torto, desigual, mas pela primeira vez... verdadeiro. Um sorriso tímido brotou em seus lábios.
Estava prestes a ajeitar mais quando ouviu a porta da casa se abrir.
— Amor? — a voz de seu marido ecoou pelo corredor. — Esqueci de perguntar se você queria...
A frase se perdeu. Kakashi parou na entrada do banheiro, olhos arregalados diante da cena: o chão coberto de cabelo, a tesoura nas mãos de [Nome], o novo corte desalinhado.
— H-Haruka... o que você... está tudo bem? — perguntou, engolindo seco, sem saber como reagir.
[Nome] ficou em silêncio por um instante, o coração batendo forte. Podia fugir daquilo, inventar uma desculpa. Mas não queria mais. Respirou fundo, ergueu o olhar e disse com firmeza:
— Não é Haruka. É [Nome].
Kakashi ficou parado na porta, como se tivesse esquecido como se mexer. O olhar dele ia do chão coberto de cabelo para o rosto de [Nome], depois para a tesoura na mão dele, e voltava.
— [Nome]... — murmurou, como se testasse o nome nos lábios pela primeira vez.
O coração do outro homem se pertou. Ele engoliu seco, mas sustentou o olhar no espelho.
— Eu... eu não sou "Haruka". Nunca fui. Eu sou [Nome]. Um homem. — A voz vacilou, mas ele respirou fundo, forçando-se a continuar. — Eu me sinto preso quando me olham como se fosse alguém que não sou. Esse cabelo, esse corpo... eu não aguentava mais.
Kakashi não respondeu. A respiração dele soava pesada, como se tivesse corrido uma maratona sem fim. Por um momento, o silêncio foi tão grande que o dono de curtos e repicados fios pensou que ele fosse simplesmente virar as costas e ir embora.
— Eu devia ter contado antes — sussurrou. — Mas tive medo. Medo de que você... não me aceitasse.
O albino piscou, como se tivesse acordado de um transe. Deu um passo hesitante para dentro do banheiro e, mesmo sem saber o que dizer, estendeu a mão, tocando devagar o ombro de [Nome].
— Você... — ele engoliu em seco. — Você ainda é você.
Os olhos de [Nome] marejaram, mas um pequeno sorriso se formou em seus lábios.
— Eu ainda sou eu. Só que... agora mais verdadeiro.
Kakashi demorou, mas retribuiu o sorriso, tímido, quase torto.
— O corte de cabelo ficou corajoso — tentou brincar, olhando para os fios irregulares. — Mas você não pode andar por aí parecendo que lutou com uma katana cega.
[Nome] riu, nervoso, passando a mão pelo cabelo curto e torto.
— Eu sei... mas... não consigo ir sozinho ao barbeiro. Tenho vergonha.
Kakashi arqueou a sobrancelha, como se fosse a coisa mais óbvia do mundo.
— Quem disse que vai sozinho? Eu vou com você.
[Nome] o encarou, surpreso.
— Vai?
— Claro que vou. — Kakashi deu de ombros. — Alguém precisa garantir que não tentem cortar ainda mais torto do que já está.
A risada de [Nome] saiu abafada, mas genuína. A tensão se dissolveu aos poucos, e quando saíram de casa mais tarde, Kakashi manteve a mão nas costas dele o tempo todo. No barbeiro, ficou sentado ao lado da cadeira, observando cada movimento do profissional, como se fosse vigiar um subordinado da empresa. Quando terminou, o cabelo curto de [Nome] estava alinhado, limpo, e o reflexo no espelho parecia finalmente se encaixar com o que sentia por dentro.
— Muito melhor — Kakashi comentou. [Nome] sorriu, os olhos úmidos.
— Obrigado...
Kakashi enfiou as mãos nos bolsos, tentando parecer casual.
— Só não pense que acabou. Ainda temos que comprar roupas novas. Não vou deixar você usar aquelas que não combinam mais.
[Nome] ficou vermelho.
— Eu... não sei se consigo.
— [Nome]. — Kakashi disse firme, mas com delicadeza. — Eu vou com você. Sempre.
🌨️
O cheiro do café encheu o ar, trazendo lembranças de manhãs em que Kakashi aparecia sonolento, roubava-lhe um beijo distraído e resmungava que preferia chá. Agora, tudo o que havia era silêncio. Com a garrafa já cheia do líquido fumegante, [Nome] aproveitou e encheu a caneca de porcelana amarela até a borda, com cuidado o acastanhado a pegou e levou a caneca até os lábios, mas o gosto parecia amargo demais.
Atrás dele, ouviu passos arrastados. Kakashi entrou na cozinha, ainda desgrenhado pelo sono, e parou por um momento à porta, observando. Seus olhos semicerrados pousaram em [Nome] — mas ele não disse nada.
— Bom dia — murmurou [Nome], baixinho.
— Hm. — foi tudo o que recebeu de resposta, um som vago, enquanto Kakashi se servia de água.
[Nome] apertou os dedos em torno da caneca. O silêncio voltou a se instalar entre eles, espesso, sufocante. Parcialmente o homem queria acreditar firmemente que seu marido aceitaria a mudança brusca, o dono de fios castanhos entendia, bem, ambos se casaram com 24 anos, dez longos anos de casamento com Hikaru que em um ano tornou [Nome].
[Nome] girou a caneca nas mãos, observando o vapor escapar em espirais frágeis. Dez anos. Dez anos ao lado de Kakashi, e nunca havia se sentido tão sozinho quanto agora. No começo, mesmo com a vida corrida, havia gestos — um toque discreto nas costas quando passavam um pelo outro na cozinha, a mão pousada sobre a sua enquanto assistiam televisão tarde da noite, o beijo demorado de despedida antes do trabalho. Agora, tudo o que restava eram espaços vazios.
Kakashi, CEO de uma das maiores empresas de tecnologia da cidade, parecia ter sempre a mente em outro lugar. Reuniões, relatórios, viagens. Mas [Nome] sabia que não era apenas o trabalho. Desde que se assumira, desde que deixou de ser "Hikaru" para finalmente ser "[Nome]", Kakashi recuara, como se tivesse medo de tocá-lo.
E aquilo doía. Doía mais do que qualquer palavra dura poderia doer.
[Nome] apoiou o cotovelo no balcão, a caneca esquecida, e passou a mão pelos cabelos curtos. Cortá-los havia sido um alívio, um respiro necessário para se ver no espelho sem sentir a própria pele sufocar. Mas ainda assim, por trás da coragem, existia uma ferida aberta.
— Você ainda vai sair hoje cedo? — perguntou, tentando soar casual.
Kakashi terminou de beber a água, desviando o olhar.
— Reunião com o conselho. E depois almoço com investidores. Vou chegar tarde.
A resposta caiu como um peso no estômago de [Nome]. Não era apenas a agenda cheia — era a frieza, a ausência de calor na voz. O homem que antes o olhava como se fosse seu lar agora parecia encará-lo como um estranho.
O acastanhado quis dizer algo, qualquer coisa que quebrasse o muro entre eles. Mas as palavras se engasgaram na garganta. E no silêncio, só conseguiu pensar na ironia cruel: durante anos, sonhara em ser visto como quem realmente era. Agora, temia não ser visto por Kakashi de forma alguma.
Ele baixou a cabeça, murmurando quase para si:
— Sinto falta de quando você me abraçava...
O albino aparentemente não escutou, já que foi em direção ao quarto para trocar de roupas. Sozinho, [Nome] deixou a caneca sobre a pia e levou as mãos ao rosto. Não chorou — não havia lágrimas, apenas um vazio profundo.
Por mais que tentasse se convencer de que era o trabalho, de que Kakashi estava apenas cansado, a dúvida crescia como sombra: e se não fosse o trabalho? E se ele simplesmente tivesse deixado de o amar?
Sei que o Halloween foi ontem kkkk, mas você pode fazer pra mim um cute do Kakashi? Ele é o leitor vão passar o primeiro Halloween com o filhinho deles, o Naruto.
First Halloween.
Kakashi × Male reader.
A arte não é minha, devidos créditos ao artista. Caso não goste ou não permita o uso, me avise que retirarei.
O céu já começava a se tingir de um tom alaranjado, e a brisa leve de outubro balançava as folhas secas que cobriam o chão da varanda. Dentro da casa, o cheiro de chocolate quente e pão de abóbora se misturava à risadinha abafada de um bebê que tentava morder o capuz felpudo de sua fantasia.
Kakashi se agachou diante do pequeno, os fios grisalhos caindo sobre um dos olhos enquanto ele ajeitava o capuz com cuidado.
— Ei, pequeno... — murmurou com um sorriso calmo. — Se continuar mastigando, vai acabar comendo a orelha do cachorrinho.
Naruto soltou uma risadinha, os olhos azuis brilhando. O tecido marrom da roupinha — com uma cauda fofa balançando — parecia grande demais para ele, e mesmo assim, de algum modo, tudo nele era perfeito.
[Nome] observava da porta, os braços cruzados e o coração derretendo com a cena. Era o primeiro Halloween desde que o adotaram, o primeiro de muitos, e o simples fato de vê-lo ali — tão pequeno, tão cheio de vida — fazia tudo valer a pena.
— Ele está lindo — o dono de fios [claros|escuros] disse, sorrindo. — Nosso cachorrinho.
Kakashi olhou por cima do ombro, o sorriso suave iluminando o rosto. — O mais fofo da rua, com certeza. — Ele se levantou, pegando o bebê no colo com uma naturalidade que só quem ama de verdade tem. Naruto agarrou a gola da camisa dele e riu alto, encantado.
— Pronto pra assustar o pessoal e ganhar uns docinhos? — O albino perguntou, erguendo o bebê no ar.
Naruto balbuciou algo que lembrava "bau!", e os dois riram juntos.
Você pegou o cobertorzinho e o enrolou nele antes de saírem. A noite os esperava com lanternas de abóbora piscando pelas ruas, e por um instante, tudo parecia exatamente como deveria ser.
Uma família. Pequena, improvável... mas perfeita. O Hatake olhou pra você enquanto ajeitava o bebê mais uma vez, os olhos gentis e cheios de ternura.
A arte não é minha, dou todos créditos ao artista. Caso não goste ou não permita o uso, me avise que retirarei.
Nanami nunca diria em voz alta, mas estava com saudades de [Nome]. O marido não estava longe, nem fora do país. Era saudade do toque — dos beijos no pescoço, dos abraços demorados, das massagens com óleo que sempre acabavam com qualquer tensão no peito dele.
Respirou fundo, deixando a água morna escorrer por seu corpo na banheira. O cheiro doce de maracujá dos sais de banho que havia ganhado de presente encheu o ar, trazendo consigo uma sensação de calma. Ele não pôde evitar um pequeno sorriso ao lembrar de [Nome] insistindo que ele usasse o kit, dizendo que também merecia se cuidar.
Os olhos castanhos se perderam no teto. As pálpebras pesaram. Quando se deu conta, já estava dormindo — e só acordou com beijos leves espalhados pelo rosto, acompanhados por uma voz baixa que soava como casa.
— Ei, amor… — a voz suave o fez abrir os olhos devagar.
Nanami piscou, ainda meio fora do ar, e murmurou o nome do marido com a voz rouca de sono. [Nome] sorriu.
— Você dormiu na banheira — disse em tom brincalhão, afastando uma mecha loira que insistia em cair na testa dele.
Nanami só então percebeu que já não estava mais na água. Estava deitado na cama, vestido com uma blusa larga demais para si, branca, com um enorme gato laranja estampado na frente. Reconheceu na hora: era do marido. O cheiro dele impregnava o tecido, e isso aqueceu seu peito.
Ele se ajeitou no colchão, ainda meio sonolento, e suspirou quando sentiu o toque delicado em seu rosto. Toda a ansiedade do dia parecia se desfazer ali.
— Você me secou? — perguntou baixinho.
— Claro. Não ia deixar você acordar todo molhado e encolhido. — [Nome] sorriu de canto. — E, convenhamos, você ficou ótimo com essa blusa.
Nanami suspirou outra vez quando mais um beijo encostou em sua têmpora.
— …Você já tomou banho?
— Tomei, depois de te tirar da banheira. — [Nome] se ajeitou ao lado dele na cama, puxando as cobertas para cobrir os dois. — Achei melhor deixar você descansar aqui.
Nanami apenas resmungou um “hm” satisfeito, fechando os olhos. Logo se virou, procurando o calor do marido. Deitou o rosto contra seu pescoço e se enroscou sem pensar. [Nome] sorriu, passando a mão pelas costas dele em um carinho lento, repetitivo, como se já soubesse de cor os pontos que faziam o loiro relaxar.
Este capítulo contém spoilers da obra e da relação do Megumi com o pai.
Obs: este capítulo foi um pedido anônimo só que infelizmente o meu aplicativo tava dando um bug que não está me permitindo responder, então eu espero que goste que você veja.
O vento dançava pelas janelas da mansão Esmeralda, fazendo os vitrais antigos suspirar baixo, como se chorassem memórias que ninguém mais ousava tocar. Megumi, com os pés descalços e a blusa de manga caída de um lado, andava devagar pelos corredores. O boneco velho de pelúcia — um lobo desbotado, com uma orelha torta — estava pressionado contra seu peito com uma força quase desesperada.
Era um presente de [Nome].
De quando ele ainda sorria. De quando seus dedos grandes ainda se curvavam para ajeitar os fios escuros do seu cabelo. De quando o chamava de “meu pequeno lobo” com aquela voz grave e baixa, do tipo que fazia o mundo todo parecer seguro.
Mas agora, só o eco das lembranças caminhava ao seu lado.
Tudo mudou no seu sétimo aniversário.
Toji, seu pai quis fazer tudo e passou a semana toda preparando tudo. Arrumou os vasos da varanda, pendurou fitas verde-esmeralda nas colunas do salão, assou o bolo com as próprias mãos — o de frutas que Megumi mais gostava. O ômega se esforçava tanto… queria que aquele dia fosse perfeito. E por um breve momento, foi.
[Nome] chegou com o terno alinhado, os cabelos escuros penteados com elegância, e um embrulho cuidadosamente amarrado nas mãos. Quando viu o filho correndo em sua direção, não hesitou: o levantou no colo, o girou no ar, e riu com ele.
— Parabéns, meu pequeno lobo.
A risada de Megumi foi como música. Ele segurou o rosto do pai com as duas mãos pequenas.
— Você veio mesmo!
— Eu sempre venho.
[Nome] apenas assentiu, tocando de leve a testa do filho com a sua, e naquele instante, tudo parecia estar certo no mundo.
Mas a paz não durou.
A mulher entrou como um trovão, empurrando as portas com fúria. Era uma alfa — elegante, bonita e com o veneno escorrendo dos olhos. Em suas mãos, papéis amassados e fotos velhas, que jogou no chão como se fossem pedras. A sala inteira pareceu parar.
— Você realmente achou que podia esconder isso, Toji?
O ômega travou no lugar. Os olhos dele procuraram desesperadamente o de [Nome], mas o alfa já não o encarava da mesma forma.
— Essa criança — a mulher cuspiu as palavras com desprezo — é fruto da traição, [Nome]. Toji se deitou com outra alfa enquanto era seu companheiro. E agora quer fingir que esse bastardo é seu filho?
Megumi não entendeu tudo, mas sentiu. Cada palavra parecia atravessar o ar e atingir seu peito.
— Esse menino é fruto de traição.
— Como ele ainda tá aqui?
— Como você permitiu isso, [Nome]?
Toji tentou se aproximar, trêmulo.
— Não é assim… por favor, ele é só uma criança…
— Uma criança que não é sua — a mulher interrompeu. — Que não devia estar vivendo aqui.
O silêncio de [Nome] foi o que doeu mais. Ele olhou para Megumi — e naquele olhar não havia mais carinho. Só algo morto, apagado. Ele não disse uma única palavra. Virou as costas. E foi embora.
Naquela noite, não jantou com eles. No dia seguinte, não apareceu para o café da manhã. Nas semanas seguintes, mesmo passando pelos corredores da mansão, fingia que Megumi não existia.
Toji fez o possível para preencher aquele vazio. Preparava o café, levava o filho pra dormir no colo, inventava histórias antes de dormir. Dizia “meu amor” com ternura, beijava sua testa toda vez que o via chorar escondido. Estava arrependido — tão visivelmente arrependido que doía nos olhos.
— Eu estraguei tudo… tirei dele o que havia de mais puro. Nosso filho.
Megumi escutava essas palavras escondido atrás da porta.
Mas o amor de Toji, mesmo tão sincero, não curava o buraco que [Nome] havia deixado.
Às vezes, nos passeios curtos e discretos que faziam pela cidade, Megumi o via. Sempre à distância. Sempre como quem observa o que não pode ter.
[Nome]. Seu pai.
Andando ao lado de um ômega novo — Naoya. Bonito, arrumado, sempre com um brilho nos olhos. E em seus braços, um bebê. Gordinho, risonho, que balbuciava sons sem sentido enquanto recebia beijos e cócegas do alfa.
Megumi observava tudo sem dizer uma palavra.
Via o carinho. Os olhares. Os toques.
Era o mesmo que ele recebia antes.
E mesmo sem entender o porquê, sentia os olhos se encherem. A garganta apertar. O peito arder.
Não falava nada. Só segurava mais forte seu boneco. E andava ao lado de Toji como uma sombra calada.
Ouvia os guardas da propriedade sussurrarem quando achavam que ele não estava por perto.
— É um milagre esse menino ainda morar nas terras Salazar.
— Um alfa nunca aceita um filhote que não é seu.
— Ele só não mandou embora por pena.
Megumi ouvia.
Guardava.
Carregava aquilo como quem segura uma pedra no coração.
Naquela noite, depois de mais um passeio em que viu [Nome] com Naoya e o bebê sorridente, chorou em silêncio debaixo das cobertas.
Toji o encontrou encolhido na cama, escondido sob os lençóis.
— Gumi…? O que aconteceu, meu amor?
O pequeno demorou a responder. A voz saiu abafada, pequena.
— Eu vi ele hoje… o papai [Nome].
Toji parou. Sentou-se ao lado dele e passou a mão devagar em seus cabelos.
— Ele tava com o bebê — ele continuou, engolindo a dor. — Ele sorria pra eles. Pegou o bebê no colo… beijou o Naoya.
Toji suspirou devagar. Os olhos cheios de uma tristeza que ele já não conseguia esconder.
— [Nome] está ferido, Gumi. Ferido por mim. Não por você.
Megumi fungou. Os olhos cheios de água.
— Então por que ele não me ama mais…?
O silêncio foi a única resposta por alguns segundos.
Depois, Toji o abraçou apertado. Como se quisesse proteger cada pedaço quebrado do filho.
— Ele não sabe o que está fazendo. Está cego pela dor, pelo orgulho. Mas um dia… um dia ele vai perceber. Vai ver o que perdeu.
A criança não respondeu.
Só chorou.
Baixinho.
Como um filhote abandonado que já não sabe se vale a pena chamar.
E mesmo assim, no fundo do seu coração, ele desejava com todas as forças:
“Que um dia, só por um instante… ele voltasse a me chamar de meu pequeno lobo.”
Bart e Lisa já estavam acostumados com a rotina previsível do Diretor Skinner. Ele sempre aparecia na escola com a mesma expressão séria, reclamava da bagunça no pátio e terminava seus dias voltando para casa com a mãe superprotetora, Agnes. Mas, ultimamente, algo parecia… diferente.
— Você já reparou que o Skinner anda feliz demais? — Lisa perguntou, franzindo a testa enquanto observava o diretor atravessar o pátio com um pequeno sorriso no rosto.
— Eu achei que era só porque a cantina trocou o purê de batata por nuggets. — Bart respondeu, encolhendo os ombros.
Lisa revirou os olhos e puxou o irmão pelo braço.
— Vamos investigar.
[…]
A espionagem começou inocente, mas, conforme os dias passavam, Bart e Lisa ficaram cada vez mais convencidos de que Skinner estava escondendo algo. Ele saía da escola apressado, pegava um caminho diferente de casa e parecia… bem menos assustado com a própria sombra.
Certo dia, os irmãos decidiram segui-lo. Após algumas ruas, viram o diretor entrar em uma casa desconhecida. Não era a casa da Sra. Skinner.
— Ele foi sequestrado e está sofrendo Síndrome de Estocolmo? — Bart sugeriu.
Lisa ignorou o comentário e foi até a janela da casa, espiando por uma fresta. O que viu fez seu queixo cair.
Lá dentro, Skinner estava sentado à mesa de jantar, sorrindo de orelha a orelha enquanto um homem bonito e musculoso colocava comida no seu prato. O estranho era bem mais alto que ele, tinha um olhar carinhoso e até segurava a mão de Skinner entre as refeições.
— Bart… Ele tá casado! — Lisa sussurrou, boquiaberta.
— Caramba, e o cara parece saído de uma propaganda de desodorante! — Bart arregalou os olhos.
Naquele instante, o homem olhou para a janela e, com um sorriso gentil, acenou para os dois. Skinner se virou em seguida e ficou pálido ao ver as crianças.
— Oh, céus.
[…]
Minutos depois, Bart e Lisa estavam sentados na sala, enquanto Seymour tentava formular uma explicação decente. [Nome] riu e abraçou Skinner de lado.
— Relaxa, amor. Não tem nada de errado nisso.
— Não, claro que não! — Lisa disse, ainda chocada. — Mas… como assim?!
Skinner coçou a nuca, desconfortável.
— Bom, eu me casei. Faz alguns meses.
Bart apontou para [Nome].
— E você casou com esse cara gigante, bonito e… que não parece te odiar?
— Sim, Bart. — Skinner suspirou.
Lisa juntou as mãos, pensativa.
— Então é por isso que você anda tão feliz…
[Nome] riu e beijou a têmpora de Skinner, que corou.
— É, acho que tem algo a ver com isso.
Bart e Lisa trocaram olhares. Nada poderia ter os preparado para aquela revelação. Mas, no fim das contas, talvez Springfield precisasse de um Skinner menos tenso.
— Bom, pelo menos ele não mora mais com a mãe. — Bart murmurou.
O cansaço pesava sobre os ombros de Neteyam enquanto ele entrava em seu espaço, os olhos dourados brilhando fracamente sob a luz azulada da noite de Pandora. Ele passou a mão pelo rosto, suspirando. O dia havia sido longo, cheio de treinamentos, reuniões e responsabilidades que vinham com seu destino de futuro líder.
Mas nada pesava mais do que a distância crescente entre ele e [Nome].
Sentado em sua rede, Neteyam segurou um pequeno ursinho de pelúcia, algo que não fazia parte da cultura dos Na’vi, mas que de alguma forma havia chegado até ele. Um presente bobo, talvez uma lembrança de tempos mais simples. Ele o abraçou contra o peito, sentindo o tecido macio enquanto fechava os olhos.
Seu coração apertou ao lembrar de como tudo estava diferente. Antes, os toques entre eles eram naturais, um roçar de cauda aqui, um entrelaçar de dedos ali. Agora, [Nome] ficava rígido ao menor contato, desviava o olhar quando Neteyam tentava encará-lo por tempo demais. Suas conversas, que antes fluíam como um rio sereno, agora pareciam secas, resumidas a poucas palavras antes de um silêncio incômodo se instalar.
Ele entendia. Ele sabia que sua ausência machucava. Mas entender não fazia doer menos.
Um suspiro trêmulo escapou de seus lábios enquanto ele afundava o rosto no ursinho, os olhos ardendo.
"Eywa…" murmurou baixinho.
Era injusto. Ele havia lutado tanto para conquistar [Nome], para que ele confiasse, para que deixasse sua guarda baixa ao menos para ele. E agora… parecia que estavam regredindo.
Uma lágrima quente escorreu por sua bochecha. Talvez fosse o cansaço, ou talvez fosse a dor real de sentir alguém tão próximo se afastando pouco a pouco.
O sono veio devagar, embalado pelo cheiro familiar do pequeno brinquedo em seus braços, um consolo frágil para um coração que só queria um pouco mais de tempo com quem amava.
Talvez amanhã fosse diferente. Talvez amanhã ele pudesse encontrá-lo e, mesmo que por um momento breve, segurá-lo como antes.
