Before It Ends (Itachi x Akatsuki x Reader)

***

Your time with Orochimaru had started out of necessity. You had nowhere else to go, no one left to turn to. He found you when you were broken, when your world was shattered, and offered something no one else could. Power. Training. A chance to defend yourself in a world that had already taken so much from you. You would become his pupil. He would take you under his wing, make you one of his own.

Furthermore, the offer he gave you was too tempting. The ability to bring back the dead? It was the kind of thing that haunted your dreams. You could bring back your parents…and maybe, just maybe, you could finally find peace. You could set things right. You could return to a life that felt normal again, where the world wasn't so full of grief and loss.

Maybe you were being naive, but it was the only hope you had. Everyone has to believe in something, right?

That's how it began—simple, almost innocent. But it didn't stay that way. The longer you stayed by his side, the more your relationship with him twisted into something darker. At first, it had been business—just an arrangement. You were his pupil. That was all. But something insidious crept in. You didn't view him as just a strange, powerful man anymore; he wasn't simply a stepping stone to your goals. No. You looked up to him. You needed him.

You craved his approval, his praise, the kind of validation that you hadn't received since your father had walked out of your life all those years ago. The way Orochimaru would look at you, the cold satisfaction in his eyes when he saw your progress—it made something stir deep within you. Something that felt like yearning, like you were finally seen in a way you never had been before.

And that was exactly what made you vulnerable. That was what he understood—what he had you tangled in. He didn't care about your progress as much as he cared about owning you, controlling you, making you dependent on his recognition. He knew what you needed to hear, and he knew how to use that need to make you do anything. And you did. You would do anything.

You didn't even realize at first that you were losing sight of your original goal. The mission. The grand idea of bringing back the dead…it all began to blur. You weren't just focused on the end result anymore. You started wanting something more immediate, more tangible—his approval. His attention. Every step you took, every success you achieved, you only did it for him, for the chance to hear his words of praise. You thought you were still focused on your own mission, but with every passing day, it was harder to tell where his ambitions ended and yours began.

And that was the most twisted part of it. You were so far gone, you didn't even know anymore.

***

Itachi's hand gently squeezing your own had seemed to bring you back to reality.

"…Y/n," he began, his voice soft. "Are you alright?"

You blink once, gathering yourself, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Y-Yes, I'm fine, sorry…" You let the words slip out, a weak apology for the way your thoughts had gotten away from you.

Itachi merely nodded in response. "Let's keep going." 

"Right…" You agree, but inside, you felt like you were unraveling. The PTSD from the mission had triggered something far deeper, resurfacing memories of things you'd buried long ago. Each flashback felt like a wave crashing against you, pulling you under before you could catch your breath. You hadn't expected it to be this bad.

…

The two of you managed to exit the building without being detected. Any security was avoidable, and you took the back route to remain unseen. Itachi hadn't let go of your hand once, guiding you with a steady, unspoken confidence. His touch was a silent reassurance, though you couldn't shake the weight of what had just happened. Every step you took felt heavier than the last, as though the island's shadows were still clinging to you.

As you both step outside, the cool breeze of the night brushes against your skin, but it does little to clear the storm inside your head. You try to push the thoughts aside. Focus. You remind yourself. Focus on the mission, on the way back.

The rendezvous point wasn't far now—just a short distance to the harbor where the rest of the team waited.

…

As you approach, the outline of Deidara's form becomes visible in the distance, his signature, dramatic stance almost too noticeable in the dim light. His arms are crossed, lips pulled into an exaggerated frown, but his sharp eyes are already trained on you the moment you step into view.

For a moment, he pauses—eyes narrowing as if trying to decipher something hidden in the way you carry yourself. Then, with a sudden burst of energy, he stands up straight and begins walking towards you, the speed almost frantic. His voice rings out just as he reaches you.

"Oi, Y/n!" He calls. "You alright? You look like you've seen a ghost or somethin'..."

The question hits harder than it should, but you manage to push a faint smile onto your lips. "I'm fine," you answer, the words tasting strange on your tongue. "Just…tired."

Deidara doesn't seem convinced. His eyes, usually so quick to shift to something else, remain fixed on you for a long moment. Then, something shifts—his gaze flickers downward, catching sight of Itachi's fingers still loosely intertwined with yours. For a second, his posture stiffens and his expression hardens, lips pulling into a tight line.

You can feel the tension rise in the air. Itachi, ever the stoic, doesn't react—his grip on your hand loosens but doesn't fully retreat. A strange tension builds between them, one that you've grown used to but still don't fully understand.

Deidara's eyes narrow, and a sharp breath escapes him. Without warning, he grabs your other arm, pulling you slightly towards him. His glare remains on Itachi as he speaks again. "Come on, let's hurry and get out of here," he insists, voice thick with impatience, though the undertone of something darker is clear. Itachi releases your hand, his touch lingering for just a moment too long before retreating. You're free of him now, but it's not exactly a feeling you welcome.

You follow Deidara wordlessly down the dock, trying to ignore the churning in your stomach. The boat awaiting you is more like a small yacht, but you're too numb to appreciate Kakuzu's obvious flair for the extravagant. Your eyes drift over the deck, but it's nothing but a blur. The salt in the air stings your nostrils, a bitter reminder of the place you've just escaped.

As you reach the helm, you spot Sasori leaning against the railing, his eyes never leaving the horizon.

Deidara, too, seems to snap back to a more relaxed demeanor, calling out as if nothing happened. "Hey, Sasori, my man! You ready to go?"

Sasori's voice drifts toward you, low and dry. "I was the one waiting on you." He raises an eyebrow, eyes briefly flicking to Deidara with a look that could slice through stone. "You know I hate to be kept waiting…"

"Yeah, yeah…" Deidara waves him off, clearly unbothered by his impatience.

"Get settled in then. We're taking off soon." Sasori concludes.

You were more than happy to do just that. The night air was chilly, and now even worse since you were on the water. Not to mention you were still in your skimpy outfit from the mission.

You step down the small staircase, entering the interior of the yacht. Your footsteps echo softly against the polished wood. The space is a bit cramped, but you don't mind—right now, it feels like the only place you can retreat to. You try to lose yourself in the motion of settling into the space, but your mind refuses to quiet. Too much chaos from the mission still swirls inside your chest, tangled and impossible to ignore.

You draw in a shaky breath, attempting to steady yourself. I'm fine. Everything's fine. But the words don't come easily. They ring hollow in your ears, a futile attempt to convince yourself of something you know isn't true.

The faint pulse of chakra catches your attention before you even see him. You look up just in time to bump into Kakuzu, and for a second, you brace yourself for the usual gruffness. It's instinctive, really. The man was almost always a storm cloud, brooding and detached. But surprisingly…something's different.

He seems almost in good spirits—for him, at least. His chakra is flowing with more ease than usual, almost giddy in its intensity. The rough exterior that's usually a wall is cracked just enough to reveal something beneath.

He catches your eye, and you blink, thrown off by the sudden change in his demeanor.

"S-Senpai—" You begin, the title slipping out unconsciously. It's strange. You hadn't meant to call him that. And, it wasn't the first time either. It was almost like an automatic reflex at this point. Why do you keep doing that?

Kakuzu barely notices your hesitation as he leans toward you, lightly brushing a check under your chin, the paper tickling your skin. "Thirty million ryo," he exclaims, almost sounding pleased. "You're more useful than I thought. One damn good paycheck."

His words hang in the air for a moment—strangely warm for Kakuzu, but colder than anything you'd consider comforting. You can't decide if it's a compliment or a reminder that your usefulness is the only thing he values. You swallow, feeling a knot form in your throat. You're used to the dismissiveness, but when it came dressed up in words that could almost pass as praise…it felt…

"See, told ya she had it in her." Hidan's voice cuts through the moment, and you turn to find him lounging lazily on one of the couch seats, eyes glinting with his usual smirk.

Kakuzu hums in response, the sound deep and almost content, though it's hard to tell if it's truly a sign of approval or just his way of tolerating Hidan's presence.

"Keep this up," Kakuzu continues, his tone even but with an undercurrent of something akin to commendation, "and I won't consider you a total waste of space after all."

You blink at him, unsure whether to be grateful or insulted. Both, probably. It's the closest thing to a compliment you'll ever get from him.

Before you can respond, a familiar voice rings out from the small staircase behind you, sharp and protective. "Lay off her, would ya, hm?" Deidara's words are tinged with irritation, and when you glance toward him, you see the hint of a glare aimed squarely at Kakuzu. It's clear he's not thrilled about the backhanded praise, but his loyalty is obvious. He won't let anyone get away with belittling you.

You give the blonde-haired male a small, reassuring smile, though it feels forced. "It's alright, Deidara-kun…" In hindsight, Kakuzu had actually been giving you a compliment, albeit in his own, Kakuzu-ish way. You didn't mind it as much as you probably should.

"Awh, the two lovebirds, how cute." Hidan speaks up once more, and the air around you suddenly feels a lot heavier.

Deidara bristles at the jab, his tone snapping. "Oi! It's not like that! Y/n's just not an idiot, like you!"

"I'm not the idiot, idiot!" Hidan shoots back.

You let out a long, drawn-out sigh, your chest tightening as the bickering escalates. Oh, god. Here we go again. The cycle was inevitable, and there was no stopping it once it began. The weight of it all presses down on you like a crushing burden, each word, each sharp retort adding to the suffocating pressure. You feel it in your shoulders, aching under the strain, and your mind—a thousand thoughts, all tangled—begging for respite.

You can feel it from beside you too. The crackle of irritation in the air, the subtle shift in Kakuzu's chakra, a barely contained storm just beneath the surface. His fingers twitch involuntarily, and you know it's only a matter of time before his patience snaps. That quiet fury always lingers, but tonight, it feels especially volatile—like he's one comment away from erupting. Well, so much for his good mood…

You retreat to the farthest corner of the couch, curling into yourself like a shield, the cushions pressing against you as if they could absorb some of the weight you carry. Your knees pull up instinctively, wrapping yourself in the familiar posture of someone trying to hide from the world. You let their voices wash over you, muffled and distant. Their bickering becomes background noise—just static, white noise that you don't have the energy to fight anymore.

Your eyes drift toward the window, seeking some kind of solace. Outside, the water stretches out into the void, a blackness so deep and endless it almost feels like it's pulling you in. The darkness is all-consuming, unbroken, and still. But inside, it's anything but quiet. The bickering—loud and constant—clashes with the silence of the world outside, a reminder of how hollow everything feels.

There's peace in water, you remember your former master telling you once. Well, Orochimaru said a lot of things, yet you remembered them all so vividly.

There's peace in water…

You just wish you could believe it.

——

The entire trip back had felt like a drag. You don't think you'd ever been happier to be back at HQ. It may of been dark and gloomy…and in a literal cave, but it was the closest thing to home you'd ever have.

As soon as the door to your room closes behind you, you retreat to your bed without a second thought. You just wanted to sleep away the memories of the mission. But no matter how much you tried to close your eyes and block everything out, your mind kept replaying it over and over. What if Kisame hadn't made it when he did? Then what?

…

By three in the morning, the clock ticked louder than your own thoughts. You knew it was pointless to even try anymore. Sleep wasn't an option tonight—not with your mind racing like it was.

With a quiet groan, you sit up, the cool air of the room brushing against your skin. Your eyes fall on your nightstand. There, resting innocently, was the transmission ring you'd received after joining the Akatsuki. The guilt in your stomach gnawed at you, like you were asking too much, but you just needed something, someone to make the world stop spinning for a moment. You let out a heavy sigh, picking up the ring and holding it between your fingers.

"...Deidara-kun..." you murmur, barely above a whisper. "I can't sleep. You got the spare key?"

A brief silence follows, and for a moment, you wonder if maybe he won't answer. But then you hear the familiar crackle of static, and his voice follows. "Tch. Already on my way, hm."

You can't help but let out a quiet, relieved breath. Of course, Deidara would be awake at this hour. The man thrived in the dead of night, always a little more alive when the world around him was quiet. He was probably already working on something, or maybe he was just in his room, drawing. You didn't know for sure, but you'd never expected him to turn you down. He'd always been there when you needed him, even when it was inconvenient or strange.

You place the ring back on the nightstand with a soft clink and slide back down under the covers. Curling into yourself, you try to let go of the tension that's been building in your shoulders. If anything, you just want to disappear into the fabric and forget about everything for a while.

But before you can even fully settle, you hear the familiar creak of your door open then close. The sound of approaching footsteps grows louder, and then there's a shift in weight on the mattress. This was routine. The covers momentarily lift and next thing you knew, Deidara was under them with you. He doesn't say anything at first, which, strangely enough, helps. You didn't need words right now—just the comforting rhythm of his breathing.

Finally, after a long pause, his voice breaks the silence. "...You not sleeping again, hm?"

Without thinking, you roll to face him, curling into the warmth of his side. "...No." you admit quietly. You wish you could lie, but the exhaustion in your voice betrays you.

Deidara's voice is lower now, almost gentle, a rarity for him. "Wanna talk about it?"

You shake your head, unsure of what words you'd even use. Right now, you just wanted to lie here, let the silence swallow you up. You can't bring yourself to talk about it…not yet.

Your silence stretches, but Deidara doesn't seem frustrated or impatient. Instead, there's a soft hum of acknowledgment, almost like he's giving you the space you need. You hear the quiet rustle of fabric as he shifts beside you. The soft click of something small between his fingers catches your attention, and you glance over. You can just make out the faint outline of his hands in the dim light—his fingers moving with practiced precision, probably molding a piece of clay. He could never sit still, not even in the dead of night.

You watch him for a moment, the way his hands work with the clay, shaping it without any thought, his focus sharp despite the stillness of the room. It's strangely calming, the rhythm of his movements like a silent reassurance. He doesn't need to say anything—just being here, being present, makes it easier to breathe. You feel the tension slowly melt from your shoulders, just a little.

Then, after a moment that feels like an eternity, his voice breaks the stillness again, quieter this time, almost hesitant.

"…Hey, Y/n?"

"Hm?" you reply softly.

"Did something...happen on the island?"

Your chest tightens at the mention of it, the images flooding back in an instant—too much, too overwhelming. Your heart sinks a little, a cold lump forming in your throat. You try to push the memories away, but they cling to you, sharp and jagged.

"…Not really," you lie, your voice barely above a whisper. It sounds hollow even to you, but you can't bring yourself to say more. The lie is a shield, even if it doesn't protect you as well as it should. "Could we just…rest?"

There's a pause before Deidara responds. You know he doesn't believe you—not really. He's seen enough, heard enough of your restless nights to know that something's off. But he doesn't push you any further. Not now.

"…Sure, yeah. We can do that," he says, his voice soft, but the understanding in it doesn't escape you. You feel the bed shift again as he sets aside whatever he'd been playing with in his hands, the soft scrape of clay against the fabric barely noticeable in the stillness. He's settling in beside you now, no longer fidgeting, his body warm against yours in the dark. His presence feels like a silent promise—not to fix what's broken, but to stay with you, even if only in silence.

"Good night," he adds quietly, the words hanging in the air, light but comforting.

"…Night," you reply, as you close your eyes, feeling the exhaustion of the day begin to claw at you again.

With Deidara here, it didn't feel like the world was closing in on you anymore. For the first time that night, you feel your body relax, your breathing slowing, even if your mind was still racing. Maybe, just maybe, you could get some rest after all.

***

There's peace in water. Just when had he told you that? Somewhere near the beginning, when you were still getting used to his presence, still learning to navigate the chaos he brought with him.

You wrap your arms around yourself, shivering as you stand outside in the chilly night air. The sky is thick with clouds, hiding the stars, and the silence presses in, suffocating. You didn't understand the reasoning behind this. Was he really going to drop some teacher-imparting-wisdom thing on you right now?

"...Um, Orochimaru-sama..." You speak up, trying to break the silence. "I really don't understand why it was necessary to come out to the lake tonight..."

He turns to face you, his pale skin glowing like a ghost in the moonlight. "You'll see," he murmurs, walking towards the lake, his steps measured, as though this was always part of the plan.

"W-Wha— Orochimaru-sama??" You call after him, but he doesn't look back. The water laps gently at his feet as he steps forward, unbothered by the chill that's no doubt creeping into his clothes.

It didn't seem like he planned on stopping. He just kept going deeper, and the worst part? He was expecting you to follow.

You let out a defeated sigh. Well, guess you were glad you hadn't worn your stockings today. Your skirt would probably get wet, but at this point, what did it even matter?

You slip out of your stilettos, leaving them at the shoreline before stepping into the water yourself. It's colder than you anticipated, the icy touch of it sinking into your skin with every step. You keep your eyes on him as you wade deeper, the water now rising up to your waist.

When you're only a few paces away, he turns to face you, his dark eyes locking onto yours. His face is unreadable, but you can feel the weight of his gaze, pinning you in place. He doesn't say anything, not at first anyways. Instead, he simply reaches out his hand toward you.

Your heart skips, and you hesitate for a moment, unsure of whether you should pull away or comply. His grip is gentle when you place your hand in his. The warmth of his touch feels so right…

And yet, it makes you feel smaller, more fragile. Like a piece of glass, ready to break.

"Come closer," he murmurs, guiding you gently until you're nearly flush with his body. His other hand wraps around the back of your neck, his fingers brushing your skin too tenderly for someone whose hands had caused so much pain. It makes you shiver—not from the cold, but from something darker, something less definable. His fingers seemed to claim you as much as they guided you, pulling you in—not to comfort, but to keep you from running away.

"I want you to listen carefully," he says, his voice quiet. "Close your eyes."

You don't fight it. Maybe you want to believe this moment has meaning. Maybe you just want to feel something real again. You close your eyes, your breath quickening as the silence presses in.

You listen, but there's nothing. No wise words. No profound revelations. Just the quiet symphony of crickets and the gentle lapping of water.

You open your eyes. His face is unchanged, his gaze unwavering.

"...I don't hear anything."

"That's right." He answers, his voice a whisper of approval. His lips curl into the faintest of smiles. "You see? There's peace in water."

Oh…so that's what this was about? Of course, he noticed the way you'd been struggling recently—the haunting memories of your past, the nightmares, the weight that had been slowly crushing you.

"This is where I go when that voice in your head gets a little too loud. The water holds you, calms you…"

You lower your eyelids, your gaze about level with his chest. "So, you noticed that...?"

He lets out a soft chuckle despite your pitiful appearance. "I notice everything."

You sigh quietly, resigning yourself to the truth: You'd done it again. You'd shown your weakness to someone whom you desperately wanted the approval of.

He tilts his head slightly, eyes narrowing. "Listen…" His tone shifts, becoming darker. "I've been teaching you techniques, jutsu, knowledge about the world…but there's something more important I need you to understand."

You glance up slowly, meeting his eyes, a sign you were indeed listening.

"Ambition...desire...the will to become stronger. These are the driving forces behind a shinobi's growth."

"I know that—"

He cuts you off, his voice low and serious. "No, you don't. Not truly." His hand, which had still been resting on the back of your neck, now comes to gently cup your cheek. "You have potential, more than most. But potential means nothing without the drive to push past your limits, to conquer your fears and weaknesses."

Your mind dulls as his words wrap around you, dressing up the ugly truth in prettier forms. "…"

He leans in closer, his voice darkening, "You need to kill that part of you. The weak part. Let it sink. Let it drown… and you'll no longer fear the pain of the past."

***