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c4sswr1t3sth1ngs · 1 year ago

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Gaara x OC Drabble (fic under the cut)

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notes - sfw but very flirtatious teenagers, hardly proofread, iffy lore-accuracy because I haven't watched naruto in a hot second

a/n - the voices won. there's nothing else to it.

Never, ever, not once in his thirteen years of life, had Gaara fancied the idea of a party. Loud noises, bright lights lots of people – he hated all of the above on even the best of days when he could be left alone to do what he pleased. And now that he was being thrown right into the middle of a party, he hated it just as much as he thought he would.

The suit he was forced to wear was tight and itchy, and he wanted nothing more than to get away from the purple lights that shone so dim yet so bright it gave him a headache. Temari and Kankuro were sitting just a foot or two away, giggling to themselves as they pointed out cute boys in the crowds to each other. This whole stupid celebration was completely frivolous, in Gaara’s opinion. It would have taken less time and effort had they just let everyone get on with the damn chunin exams. After a while, their sensei, Baki, walked up to them, a very serious look on his face.

“Miss Kori Hamasaki has been located,” he stated plainly. Temari and Kankuro both snapped to attention while Gaara lazily turned his head to their sensei. Still, his interest was piqued; she was the whole cause for the party, after all.

“I am going to escort you three to where she is, and then I’d like for you to befriend her. Get as close to her as possible so eliminating her will be quick and easy,” he instructed. All three gave a nod before Baki beckoned them on, and they were off through the crowds.

They must have gone all the way to the other side of the building the party was being held in when they finally came close to where the former princess must have been. The team was approaching a circular bar for the younger ninjas who weren’t allowed to drink alcohol just yet where those three leaf genin from the other day sat. The pink-haired Sakura Haruno in a red cocktail dress with a frilly bottom, the ungodly annoying Naruto Uzumaki in a white button-up with an orange tie and deep blue slacks, and the ever-brooding Sasuke Uchiha in an entirely black tuxedo sitting removed from the rest of the group. Except Naruto was talking to a figure that Gaara had never seen before, one who stuck out from the crowd like a sore thumb.

A head of short, fluffy hair with two long sideburns that reached the person's chest kicked back in silent laughter, the sound drowned out by the crowds. Their hair was split-dyed two different shades of sage green, one more pastel than the other. They wore a sheathy pink suit top with a white cropped undershirt that clung tight to their skin and made their chest look flat. Ultramarine bell bottoms clung tight to their thick thighs and flowed out at their knees, growing translucent down their calves. They had black, crushed velvet platform high heels that accentuated their softly toned legs, and an abundance of black and silver necklaces and chokers adorned their open neck. They laughed and talked with a sort of “pizzaz” or charm that Gaara couldn’t really explain, but certainly wasn’t very ladylike. Was this person really the long-lost Hamasaki princess?

Baki cleared his throat now that they were only a few feet away from the group. The green-haired person turned their head to face them; they had rectangular, wire-frame, rose gold glasses and wore heavy wings of eyeliner around their steely turquoise eyes that made them look far older than thirteen. Wasn’t the princess younger than Gaara? A deep, cherry-red lip stain coated their lips, and they raised eyebrows that had been dyed matching shades of green to their hair as well as cut into little rectangles. Their skin looked just as pale as Gaara’s, and he swore he could see little white lines of scars littering their upper arms.

“Miss Kori Hamasaki,” Baki began, giving a slight bow. “I’ve heard many–”

“Woah, woahwoahwoah,” the person interrupted. Their voice was sharp and a little inarticulated, something that Gaara typically found vexatious. Typically. “‘Miss?’ And ‘Kori?’ Man, Naruto, I thought you said news spread quickly ‘round these parts,” they chuckled, turning to their blonde friend. He seemed more interested in Gaara and his siblings, a surprised and confused look on his sunkissed face and in his ocean-blue eyes. The person turned back to the group, a small grin on their tinted lips and a raised eyebrow. “You guys seem new ‘round here, so I’ll go easy on ya. First of all, drop the formalities – you’re gonna make me vomit.

“And secondly, I haven’t gone by ‘Kori’ in years,” they added, leaning back in their chair and picking up a champagne glass full of a pink-tinted, sparkling drink. Was that really champagne? And if it was how did they get their hands on it? “It’s Ambrose these days. And they/them pronouns, too. You got that all, right sir?”

Baki stumbled over his words for a moment and Gaara glanced at his siblings as they looked at each other with concerned faces; Suna had never really been fond of queer people, and this Ambrose was very blunt about what Gaara assumed was their transness.

“Well, ah, Ambrose,” Baki started, clearly gritting his teeth a little, “my name is Baki. Seeing as how you are considered royalty here in Konaha, I wanted you to meet one of the Suna’s strongest genin teams.”

“Please, Baki, I am no monarch,” Ambrose dismissed, waving their hand a little. They wore smooth, sparkly press-on nails that glittered beautifully in the purple light, all of which were black except for their middle and ring fingers; those were an opalescent white. “But, seeing as how you’ve come all this way, I am quite intrigued to meet these genin you speak of.”

Baki let out a forced laugh and stepped aside. “These are the Kazekage’s three children, dubbed the Sand Siblings.”

Ambrose got out of their seat to greet them, and they were taller than even Kankuro – Gaara must have guessed they towered above him at 5’8” while he stood a foot shorter. They extended a hand to his sister first.

“I’m Temari,” she said cheerily. “I use she/her.”

“Wonderful to meet you, Temari,” Ambrose smiled. “I do adore your dress, by the way. The color and those sequins? Absolutely fabulous.”

“Name’s Kankuro,” the eldest of the siblings said with a grin as he extended his hand out to the former social monarch. “Pronouns are he/him.” Ambrose gave the same sort of response they gave to his sister and complimented him on his facepaint. Gaara didn’t want to greet this odd person, he wanted to be left alone. He knew what their response to him was going to be. At least, he thought he did.

Ambrose looked down and as soon as their steely turquoise eyes met his they went wide and a soft pink dusted their cheeks. In that second or so Gaara noticed every little detail about them he didn’t before; the small, pointed inner corner eyeliner that made their eyes look sharper, the silver sparkles on their eyelids that glittered in the soft purple light of the party, how chubby their cheeks were, and most importantly, the look of intrigue and immediate interest that glimmered in their eyes. He had never found anyone who didn’t instantly seem afraid of him until now, let alone someone as pretty as Ambrose. He found himself nervously extending a hand out to shake theirs as his eyes went wide and his cheeks grew warm, which he pathetically blamed on the heat from the building. Their cherry-red lips hung open for a second before twisting up as their eyes crinkled mirthfully and they bent down a bit, extending a hand out to meet his.

“My my,” they chuckled coyly as they took his hand in theirs. It was warm and soft, but they didn’t take it like they were going to shake it. “To whom might I owe the pleasure, my dear?” they raised his hand to their lips and pressed them to his knuckles softly, giving it the ghost of a kiss as their eyes were locked onto his. He felt the heat in his cheeks grow as he actually sputtered for a moment, unsure of how to react to this gesture.

“G-Gaara,” he stuttered out. “U-Uh, he. They. He/they.”

Their eyebrows went up a little as a few different emotions passed through their eyes, none of which Gaara could really place until they finally settled on acceptance. “Gaara,” they repeated, voice softer than a whisper. “That’s a beautiful name. Much like its owner.”

Gaara felt a tingly, fluttery feeling erupt in his gut. Were these butterflies? “Th-Thanks,” he mumbled. Were they putting some sort of spell on him? Using some jutsu to get him wrapped around their finger? And if they were why didn’t he mind it all that much?

Baki cleared his throat beside the two, his eyes burning holes into Gaara. “Gaara, don’t you think you ought to be kissing her hand, instead of the other way around?”

Ambrose stood up straight and turned to him, an aloof sense of disinterest forming on their face as they ever-so-gently let Gaara’s fingers slip from theirs. “I believe I told you I used they/them pronouns, Baki,” they said cooly. “And, moreso, might I ask why you think the gesture should have come from him and not I?”

“I-I–” Baki began to stutter. “Well– it’s just that– you know, traditionally–”

“I do hope you recognize how foolish it is to criticize someone’s actions based on tradition, sir,” they interrupted his stuttering. “In addition, I strongly encourage you to confront the biases you have that would make you believe such a silly sentiment.”

Gaara swallowed before speaking softly. “You’re very blunt.”

Ambrose turned to back him and reassumed that grin as their eyes began to sparkle again. Why weren’t they afraid of him? “Why, thank you. It’s taken me a long while to learn to be so up-front and unabashed with my beliefs.”

“Being so blatant’s a good way to get yourself killed,” Gaara said simply, trying to get back on his feet.

“I’d rather die honestly than live a lie,” Ambrose chuckled, the sound low and a little husky and completely throwing him back off his game. “How old are you, Gaara?” they asked, tilting their head to the side as they lifted a hand up to twirl one of their long sideburns between their dainty fingers.

“M’Thirteen,” he mumbled shyly. Just like the hair they played with, they had him wrapped around their finger right now.

“Really? When’s your birthday, love?” the pet name sent a shiver down his spine as he stared up at them like a child. It didn’t help his strange predicament that they practically towered above him.

“It’s January 19th,” he answered.

“January?” they asked, twirling their sage green, curled lock between their pretty fingers. Pretty? That’s not right. What on Earth were they doing to him? “Wow, you’re older than me by exactly six months.” Their voice snapped him back to reality, and he shook his head a little.

“It doesn’t seem like it,” he managed to say simply. “You look like you’re fifteen at least.”

“Ohoho, do I?” they laughed. It was clear their attention was undividedly on him now, and he could see his siblings stare at the two with bewildered expressions out of the corners of his eyes. Baki looked absolutely infuriated. “You flatter me so, darling.”

“I’m not trying to.” He really, genuinely wasn’t. Part of him actually wanted to kill this Ambrose right now, and the other part wanted them to keep saying such nice things about him.

“You must be a natural,” they giggled. Gaara swallowed before getting the courage to initiate a bit of conversation himself; why was he doing that?

“If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your gender?” He almost instantly regretted asking it. Yet still, Ambrose smiled at him and pressed a thoughtful finger to their chin.

“Hmm,” they hummed, the noise sending another bout of those butterflies through his gut. “Last I checked it was several raccoons in a trenchcoat.”

Gaara’s brow furrowed. Did they take him for a fool? Is that why they were acting so strange compared to everyone else?

Ambrose burst into laughter, one of their dainty hands raising to their pretty mouth. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding of course!” they giggled. They straightened up, their hand going down to their hip and resting it there as they shifted their weight comfortably onto one foot. “The correct term is ‘genderfluid.’ Basically, it means my gender is always fluctuating.”

“I’ve never heard of that.” He was trying to sound disinterested, but his curious tone and wide eyes must have betrayed him.

“It’s not as well-known as it ought to be,” they answered with a sigh. “Another crippling side-effect of the rampant transphobia in the ninja world.”

Gaara was taken aback by how brutally honest they were, and it only made one of the butterflies in his gut fly up into his chest and become a flame. He reached a hand up to scratch the back of his head and averted his gaze to the side, the heat in his cheeks growing too intense for him to keep looking at their face.

“Awe, no need to be shy, Gaara,” they giggled. The way his name rolled off their tongue and slipped from their lips made him shudder. “Look at me, dear.”

He swallowed lightly and looked back up at them, the heat in his cheeks burning him from the inside out. He didn’t know why he obeyed their command so easily. But, who was he to resist them?

“There we go,” Ambrose grinned. Gaara was completely at their whim, and it looked like they took immense enjoyment in that fact. “There’s that handsome face of yours. You really are gorgeous, you know that?”

“Y-You’re the first to say that,” he mumbled. Ambrose gasped lightly, putting a hand on their chest.

“Is that so?” they asked softly. “You must be joking. Not even once before me?”

He sheepishly shook his head, and Ambrose opened their mouth like they were going to say more before a cracking voice came from behind them.

“You’re seriously not flirting with that creep, are you, Rosie?” Naruto snorted. Gaara instantly felt whatever that odd feeling was dissipate, and suddenly he wanted to go home again. Ambrose’s face changed from that playful, amused expression to one of pure confusion and slight disgust, slowly turning their head to stare at the boy for a moment. Naruto’s expression turned from that snarky, mocking grin to a concerned and even afraid stare.

“W-Why’re you looking at me like that?” he stuttered out. Ambrose turned back to Gaara and politely grinned at him before speaking again. Their voice had no reason or right to send all shivers down his spine.

“Just a moment, my dear,” they told him cheerily before turning back to Naruto, picking one leg up and slipping off their large platform heel.

"W-Woah man, cool it!" he cried, shrinking back as Ambrose held the heel up and shrunk down to about Temari's height.

"I will beat you," they murmured. "Just let me have a little bonding moment, yeah?"

Naruto rolled his eyes as Ambrose slipped the shoe back on. "You're too damn flirtatious for your age," he mumbled. Still, both of them were grinning at each other; maybe they were close.

"So sorry for that interruption, sugar," they chuckled a little awkwardly. "I do hope you're not deterred or uncomfortable, are you?"

And just like that Gaara was a mess again. His face felt hot and his stomach was so fluttery it almost hurt. "M-M'fine," he nodded shyly.

"Good, very good," they grinned. "Say, would you like to sit with me? You look like you're about to fall."

He didn't know how to respond; did he? Well, yes, he did, but that was the problem! He wasn't supposed to want to! Did he just want to kill them especially badly?

Thankfully he didn't have to answer because the second he opened his mouth to respond the music scratches to a halt as a voice crackled over the intercom saying something about needing everyone to gather at the stage that had been set up on the north side of the building.

"Oh, for fucks sake," Ambrose mumbled. They took a breath before turning back to him and speaking again. "It seems as though the forces of fate are not on our side tonight, my darling," they said with a sad chuckle. "I'll see around, Gaara."

"S-See you around," he nodded, awkwardly lifting a hand up to wave as the crowds of partygoers collectively got up and flooded around them.

Ambrose waved to him as he felt one of his siblings pull him away. He waved back, a little mesmerized by how strong and clear they stood against the waves of blurry faces.

"Bye," he mumbled, taking one last look at their tall and warm figure before being forced to look away and go with the rest of the flood of people.

"Dude," Kankuro hissed beside him. "What was that?"

"What was what?" Gaara asked him, keeping his eyes ahead. The ghost of Ambrose's form and the whispers of their voice still played in his ears.

"That!" his brother whisper-yelled, pointing back behind them. "That whole thing with Ambrose?!"

"We were waving our hands in your peripherals to try and get your attention," Temari whispered on his other side. "You were out of it! Completely unresponsive!"

"Oh," he mumbled, only half listening to what she had to say. "Sorry, I guess."

That odd, warm, fluttery feeling wouldn't leave his gut and his thoughts refused to stray from the ex-princess – ex prince? – oh, either would work, he supposed.

Had they put a spell or jutsu on him? Was this all some elaborate plan to lure him into a trap? And why was he okay with it all?

#sabaku no gaara #gaara #gaara of the desert #naruto fanfiction #the voices are winning #i think he just needs a hug yknow #writting #jokes on you they're all implicitly queer in some way/shape/form

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