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uzzumakiclan · 2 months ago

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shikamaru x fem!reader, high school universe, fluff

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IT WAS Valentine's Day, and the air was thick with that sweet scent that only industrial quantities of chocolate could leave behind. The classrooms at Konoha High were a festival of pastel colors: pink, red, white. Handmade paper hearts hung here and there from the open windows, swaying gently in the light breeze that slipped through the hallways like a whisper.

Couples exchanged glances between classes, slipping into hidden corners to steal quick kisses before the bell dragged them apart. The more creative girls showed off confections that looked like they belonged on the cover of a baking magazine: cookies, cakes, chocolate bars decorated with star-shaped sugar sprinkles. The boys received them with a mix of pride and embarrassment, awkward and clumsy, some blushing all the way to their ears.

And then there was [Y/n].

Sitting on the subway that morning, she clutched the pink bag in her hands like it was a sacred relic. The white bow was a bit crooked, but she had already fixed it three times before leaving the house. The chocolates inside — small, dark, no frills — were bitter and intense, just like the ones her mother used to make only for special occasions. And this was a special occasion.

She had spent hours melting the chocolate in a double boiler, tempering it to perfection, pouring it into leaf-shaped molds — a detail she hoped he would notice. Every movement had been made with one clear thought in mind: Shikamaru Nara.

Him, always sitting by the window, eyes turned to the sky like the world exhausted him more than it should. Him, with that messy ponytail, his tie never quite right, and a brain far too brilliant for ordinary conversations. He was the student council president, sure, but he seemed to hate every second of it. And yet he was the first to show up at assemblies, the first to break up a fight, the first to defend someone who couldn't defend themselves.

That was what [Y/n] had always admired.

He wasn't just smart. He was kind — in the way only someone who truly understood how hard life could be, could be.

That day, as soon as she stepped into classroom 3-A, her heart stopped for a second. Shikamaru's desk was a scene of its own: a small crowd of girls surrounded it like bees around flowers. Each one with a different package, a trembling smile, an excuse to linger for just a few more seconds near him. Shikamaru, as expected, sat there with slouched shoulders and half-lidded eyes, looking like he'd rather be hit by a truck than go through the moment.

"Tsk, how troublesome..." he muttered, slowly stacking the packages in a corner of his desk, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

[Y/n] stood frozen in the doorway for a moment, gripping the bag so tightly the plastic crinkled under her fingers. The courage that had carried her from home to school instantly crumbled. Of course Shikamaru would get so many gifts. It was obvious. He was him. And she... she was just one of many.

Without a word, she walked to her desk in the last row, right behind his, lowering her gaze as if she could disappear between the lines of the floor. She sat down, still holding the bag, but now it felt like a foreign object. A pink thing too alive for such a trembling heart.

The girls' voices around Shikamaru grew shriller, and every now and then he replied with a distracted monosyllable, his tone as flat as the summer sea.

[Y/n] bit her lower lip, tasting the metallic edge of nerves. How stupid... she thought. Two years of watching him from afar, of inventing conversations that never happened, of imagining that maybe, one day, he'd look her way. And now that she'd finally decided to take a step... was it too late?

The clock above the blackboard read 8:11.

The bell would ring in four minutes.

Four minutes to decide whether to act or stay seated, once again, watching him from a distance.

The pink bag, resting on her knees, felt as heavy as a suitcase full of dreams.

And then something happened.

Shikamaru turned around. Just for a moment. But long enough for his eyes to meet hers.

It wasn't a long look. It wasn't an intense look.

But it was a direct look.

And [Y/n] held her breath.

The lunch break bell rang with its usual metallic echo, spreading through the hallways and dissolving the last words of the teachers. Students poured out of their classrooms with hunger in their eyes and the kind of energy that came with feeling free — at least for those forty minutes.

Like every day, [Y/n] followed the usual path that led to the garden behind the school, a wide, open space where the grass grew thick and soft and the trees offered shade and silence. There were corners filled with chatter and laughter, and others more peaceful, like the one she and her friends always occupied, under a large cherry tree still bare of blossoms.

Sakura was the first to sit down, carefully opening her bento decorated with little cherry designs. Ino lay back on the grass, propping herself up on one elbow, while Hinata gracefully arranged her lunch on a floral napkin.

[Y/n] slowly opened her bag, placing it beside her, but for some reason, her eyes kept drifting back to the small, untouched pink bag tucked carefully into the inner pocket. It was still there. Still. Despite the promises she had made to herself.

"And then, when I gave them to him, he looked at me for a second and smiled!" Sakura was saying, her eyes glowing with triumph. "You have no idea how rare that is!"

"Well, considering he's your boyfriend, I'd say it's the least he could do." Ino laughed, teasing her with a mischievous smile. "Sasuke's always so mysterious, but at least he's not rude. Unlike someone else I could mention..."

Hinata giggled softly, bringing a hand to her mouth, and then, with sincere timidity, turned to [Y/n]. "Speaking of chocolates... have you given yours to Shikamaru yet?" she asked quietly, almost as if afraid of being too forward.

At that moment, Sakura and Ino turned toward her at once, as if they had all just remembered — at the exact same instant — the little plan [Y/n] had confided in them a few days earlier.

"Right!" exclaimed Sakura, leaning in slightly. "Didn't you say today was the day?"

[Y/n] felt herself sinking into the grass. An embarrassed smile crept onto her lips, and she blushed so hard her ears felt like they were on fire.

"No, I mean... not yet." she replied, lowering her gaze a little. "It's just... there were so many girls this morning, and he already looked so stressed. I didn't want to add to the pile."

"Pile? Oh, come on!" Ino protested, crossing her arms. "You're not like the others. You actually thought about your gift. You made bitter chocolates! Nobody thinks about things like that."

[Y/n] gave a faint smile, staring down at her hands. There were still traces of cocoa under one fingernail, despite washing them several times.

It was true. She had thought through every detail. But thinking had never been enough.

A light breeze moved a few strands of her hair, while the tree's shade protected them from the midday sun. And it was just then, as she was about to speak, that something caught her eye. Or rather, someone.

Not far from them, lying on the grass as if the world could wait, Shikamaru was staring at the sky. His hands behind his head, one leg bent, and that peaceful expression — somewhere between boredom and deep thought — that he wore so naturally. He wore his school uniform in his usual messy way, shirt unbuttoned at the collar, jacket tossed beside him. And he looked utterly at peace. Detached from everything.

[Y/n] stared at him for several seconds, without even realizing it.

Every now and then, a cloud passed overhead, and she tried to follow its shape, just like he did. There was something in the way he existed in the world, like he had already figured everything out and decided it wasn't worth getting worked up about. Like he could see beyond it all.

A voice pulled her back.

"You're down bad." Ino whispered slyly, leaning toward her and giving her a playful nudge in the side. "You're looking at him like he's a steak."

[Y/n] jumped, bright red, and tried to laugh, but it came out more like a strangled sound.

"N-no I'm not!" she lied, terribly.

Sakura giggled softly, while Hinata lowered her gaze, smiling quietly. Their warmth was something simple, something real. The three of them were true friends, and even if they loved to tease her, there was nothing but affection behind their words.

Feeling exposed, [Y/n] tried to change the subject, struck by an idea as awkward as it was fast.

"And what about you, Ino? Did you give your chocolates to Sai?" she asked, desperately trying to redirect the attention.

Ino raised an eyebrow at her. It was obvious she knew exactly what [Y/n] was trying to do.

But she went along with it anyway.

"Oh, I definitely did." she replied, casting a theatrical glance at the sky. "Even though at first he looked at me like I was trying to poison him."

The laughter was immediate. Sakura laughed until she bent forward, Hinata covered her face to hide, and even [Y/n] burst into genuine laughter, almost relieved.

"Sai doesn't get romance at all." Sakura said through her giggles. "But at least he ate them, right?"

"He ate all of them." Ino confirmed proudly. "Then he said they were 'nutritionally balanced.' I felt like a nutritionist in that moment!"

The girls kept chatting like that, jumping from one topic to another, between laughter and confessions, while the tree's shadow slowly stretched across the grass.

What none of them noticed — or perhaps only Hinata, with her quiet sixth sense — was that just a few meters away, lying as always in his suspended world, Shikamaru would occasionally open one eye.

And his gaze — slow, lazy, yet precise — would settle exactly on [Y/n].

The afternoon opened with a clear sky and a light breeze that made the air almost bearable, despite the sun beginning to make its presence felt. P.E. was one of the least loved classes by most of the students, especially when it meant the infamous dodgeball tournament — which wasn't really a tournament, more like a chaotic war disguised as a 'group activity'.

The gym was already full when Class 3-A entered, the echo of their footsteps on the wooden floorboards amplified by the high walls. The neon lights, cold and sharp, made each colorful ball lined up along the sidelines gleam. [Y/n] quickly tied her hair into a ponytail, trying to ignore the insistent pounding in her ears.

The teacher, with the tired look of someone just waiting for the day to end, divided the class into two teams. Names were called out one after the other, and when she heard hers.

"[Y/n], red team" she turned toward the classmates who would be on her side.

And there, like a small sign from fate, like a string being pulled once again between her and the boy she couldn't stop looking at, there he was.

Shikamaru.

Leaning against the gym wall, hands in his pockets and eyes fixed on the ceiling, he looked like he'd been dragged there against his will. His name had been read out just after hers, and that could only mean one thing: they were on the same team.

[Y/n] felt her heart do a somersault.

The court was divided with yellow lines, the balls placed in the center like mines ready to explode. The students began warming up — some stretched, others were already joking about the game. She, on the other hand, tried to gather her courage, thinking that maybe this could be the right moment.

Maybe, before the game started, she could walk over to him. Exchange a few words. Make him laugh with a silly joke. And — who knows — maybe ask him to hang out after school, even just for a walk, even just for five minutes.

Five minutes with Shikamaru. That would be enough for her.

She spotted him from afar. He had sat on the edge of the court, still wearing that bored expression that always seemed to say: Why am I even here?

[Y/n] chuckled to herself. He was almost endearing, in his constant disinterest in everything.

She took a deep breath, adjusted her gym shirt, and took the first step toward him. The second was easier. The third, even more so.

"Hey... Shikamaru?" she began, her tone soft, uncertain but full of hope. He turned slightly, one eyebrow raised.

She was about to speak, to ask the question that had been trembling on her lips for hours.

Would you like to meet after class?

I have something for you.

I've been thinking about you.

But right at that moment, a voice boomed through the gym: "Go!"

A sharp whistle cut through the air like a blade.

And before she could even process what was happening, an orange ball came flying out of nowhere and, like it was guided by some divine force with a terrible sense of humor, hit her square in the face.

The sound was clean, dull, almost comical.

Her vision went dark for a second, her legs gave out beneath her, and she found herself on the floor, sitting on her butt, one hand pressed to her nose, while a wave of voices rose around her.

"Oh my god, are you okay?"

"That was Karin! She threw it too hard!"

"I didn't do it!"

"Someone go get the teacher!"

"Oh no, is she bleeding?!"

[Y/n] opened one eye. Everyone was looking at her.

Her head buzzed a little, but it wasn't anything serious. Her nose was throbbing, sure, and the redness probably wouldn't fade before evening. But what hurt the most, more than anything, was the knowledge that, once again, the moment was gone.

Her cheeks burned, but not just from the hit. She couldn't tell if it was the pain, the embarrassment, or the disappointment. Or maybe all three, mixed into one bitter, messy cocktail.

And yet, she smiled.

Not one of those bright, perfect, confident smiles. But one of those smiles you make when you realize that, despite everything, your heart needs to laugh about it — just to keep from falling apart.

She looked up at the ceiling for a second, then closed her eyes.

I give up.

Shikamaru walked through the nearly deserted school corridors with a slowness that had become, by now, an integral part of who he was. One hand buried in his pants pocket, the other lazily lifted to cover his mouth as a silent yawn stretched across his lips.

The afternoon was drawing to a close, and the golden, muted sunlight filtered through the large hallway windows with an almost unreal calm. Shadows stretched across the shiny floor like soft silk ribbons, dancing lightly with every step.

It had been an especially tiring day, even by his standards. And not because of tests or quizzes, but for something even more exhausting: Valentine's Day.

A colossal nuisance.

Every year it was the same story: chocolates, cards, pink packages with too many bows and glitter, compliments whispered by girls hoping for a glance or a kind word. And that was the thing — he always had to be careful. Always. Not to be rude. Not to snap. Not to look annoyed, even when he was.

What a drag...

He had spent the last hour talking to two teachers, trying to resolve some logistical matters for the student council. The only thing he wanted now was to go home. Sink into the peace of his room, maybe lie down on the futon and stare at the ceiling until dinner.

But first, he had to grab his bag.

The classrooms were already empty. In the late afternoon, the school had a particular kind of stillness — like every word, every run, every laugh of the day had dissolved into the air, leaving only the soft silence of footsteps on tiles and the faint creak of windows.

He opened his classroom door with a slow motion. And that's when he saw her.

Sitting at his desk, head resting on her crossed arms, was a girl fast asleep.

[Y/n].

For a moment, Shikamaru stood still. His eyebrows barely raised, his gaze attentive.

The warm afternoon light brushed her hair, making it shimmer with honey and gold tones. It looked like strands of light scattered across her shoulders and the desk like soft feathers. Her expression was peaceful, relaxed, almost childlike in her sleep. A lock of hair covered part of her face, and he couldn't explain why, but he found himself thinking she looked... cute.

Really cute.

He shifted his gaze.

On the desk beside her was a small package decorated with two bows: one white and one red. It wasn't over the top. It didn't sparkle, didn't reek of sugar. It was simple, understated. Almost elegant. A small note of calm in the chaos he'd had to endure all day.

And right on top of the package was a little card.

Shikamaru walked closer, almost on tiptoe. He didn't want to wake her. There was something about that quiet that he didn't want to break.

He picked up the card between two fingers. Opened it.

The handwriting was neat, rounded, with a small touch of exaggeration in the hearts above the i's. But not too much. It felt... sincere.

I really like you, Shikamaru. I wanted to give you these chocolates, but today the world seemed to be against me.

A small puff of air escaped his lips. A low sound, amused, almost a sigh disguised as a laugh. Then a lazy smile — one of those rare ones that only surfaced when something truly managed to surprise him — curved his lips.

"So that's why you followed me around all day." he murmured, slightly folding the card between his fingers. He wasn't stupid. He had noticed. Those fleeting glances, the hesitant movements, the unnatural pauses when she walked past him. The way her friends pushed her with their eyes and she pretended not to notice.

He had seen her during the dodgeball game, too. That colossal mishap. He had winced, of course, but not in mockery. It had been more... sympathy? Curiosity? Yes, curiosity.

Slowly, as if wanting to savor that strange and quiet moment, he opened the package.

Inside, neatly arranged in two precise rows, were handmade chocolates. No glaze, no sprinkles. They were simple, slightly bitter, a little uneven. Perfect in their imperfection.

He picked one up. Examined it for a second, then brought it to his mouth and tasted it.

Bitter.

Exactly how he liked them.

He swallowed slowly, savoring the aftertaste as it melted on his tongue. Another smile brushed his face, more genuine than the first. Almost affectionate.

"Bitter, huh?" he whispered to himself.

He slowly sat down at the desk beside her, resting his chin on his hand. He stayed silent for a few seconds, letting the thoughts pass through him.

He had never really been interested in these things. Relationships, confessions, romantic feelings — all things he filed under unnecessary complications. He preferred strategy, logic, simple solutions. But he wasn't blind. He wasn't heartless.

He knew sincerity when he saw it.

And everything about that package was sincere.

He turned to look at her.

[Y/n] was still asleep, lips slightly parted, long lashes casting faint shadows on her cheeks. She looked younger like that. More fragile. More real.

Shikamaru found himself thinking how brave she'd been. Maybe she hadn't said anything, hadn't made a grand gesture, but she had stayed. She'd left that note. She'd tried. And then she'd fallen asleep in class, as if the world could wait.

He stood up.

Pulled a blank slip of paper from his pencil case and his black pen.

He wrote just a few words, in his thin, slanted handwriting:

Thank you. The chocolates were good. Can we talk tomorrow?

No signature. There was no need.

He placed the note next to the opened package, leaving just one chocolate inside.

Then he grabbed his bag, cast one last glance at her — still bathed in the golden afternoon light — and stepped out of the classroom.

The hallway was still quiet.

Outside, the sky was starting to blush orange.

And for the first time that day, Valentine's didn't seem like such a drag.

wc: 3484

#fic rec

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