February 5th - Die For You by The Weeknd - Kakashi Hatake x Reader
The sun dipped low behind the hills of Konoha, painting the sky in hues of burnt orange and muted purple. It was quiet now, save for the rustling of leaves in the breeze. You sat at the edge of the village, staring at the horizon, lost in thought. The day had been long, and the weight in your chest felt heavier than usual.
You heard him before you saw him. Kakashi Hatake, with his ever-present nonchalance, always managed to make his presence known without meaning to. The sound of his footsteps was soft, yet unmistakable, crunching lightly against the gravel path.
"You've been out here for a while," he said, his voice calm but tinged with concern.
You didn’t turn to look at him, keeping your gaze fixed on the horizon. "Needed some air."
Kakashi sighed, his hands tucked into his pockets as he moved to stand beside you. He didn’t push for more, a trait you appreciated about him. Instead, he let the silence stretch, a comfortable space for your thoughts to breathe.
But tonight, the silence wasn’t comfortable. It was heavy, filled with unspoken words and emotions that neither of you seemed ready to confront.
"I saw the mission report," you finally said, breaking the silence. Your voice was steady, but the tightness in your throat betrayed your calm façade. "You almost didn’t make it back this time."
Kakashi’s eye flickered to you, studying your profile. He had expected this conversation, though he dreaded it. "It was a close call," he admitted, his tone too casual for the gravity of the situation.
You clenched your fists, the cool air doing little to calm the storm in your chest. "You always do this, Kakashi. You throw yourself into danger without a second thought. Do you even think about how it feels for the people who care about you?"
He stiffened at your words, the usual air of confidence around him faltering. "It’s my duty," he said quietly.
"Duty?" you snapped, finally turning to face him. "You’re more than just a shinobi, Kakashi. You’re more than your missions, more than your mask. Don’t you see that?"
Kakashi’s visible eye softened, but he remained silent. He wanted to tell you he understood, that he thought about you every time he stepped into the battlefield. But the words were lodged in his throat, trapped by years of pain and guilt.
"I hate this," you admitted, your voice breaking. "I hate that I care so much. I hate that I can’t stop worrying about you, even when you push me away."
His heart ached at your words. He had spent so long keeping people at arm’s length, convinced it was the only way to protect them—and himself. But you had broken through his defenses, piece by piece, until he couldn’t imagine a life without you.
"I’m sorry," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
You shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. "Sorry isn’t enough, Kakashi. I need to know that you care. That you’re not just going to keep throwing yourself into danger like your life doesn’t matter."
"It’s not that simple," he said, his tone sharper than he intended. "I can’t just walk away from my responsibilities."
"And I’m not asking you to," you shot back. "I’m asking you to let me in. To stop shutting me out like I’m some stranger."
The vulnerability in your voice shattered something inside him. Kakashi looked away, his gaze falling to the ground. "I don’t know how to do that," he admitted, the words raw and unfiltered. "I’ve spent so long pretending I don’t need anyone. That I don’t deserve anyone. Letting you in… It scares me."
Your breath hitched at his confession. You had always known Kakashi carried his scars deeper than most, but hearing him admit it out loud was something else entirely.
"I’m scared too," you said softly, stepping closer to him. "But I’m here, Kakashi. I’m not going anywhere."
For a moment, neither of you spoke. The tension hung in the air, thick and almost unbearable. Then, slowly, Kakashi reached up and pulled down his mask.
Your breath caught at the sight of his face—something so few had ever seen. His expression was vulnerable, his usual stoic demeanor stripped away to reveal the man beneath.
"I’m trying," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t know if I can ever be what you need, but I’m trying."
Your heart ached at his words, but it was a good kind of ache. One that reminded you why you cared so deeply for him. "That’s all I ask," you said, your voice trembling with emotion.
Kakashi reached out, his hand brushing against yours before he intertwined your fingers. The gesture was small, but it spoke volumes.
"I hate that I make you worry," he said, his gaze locking onto yours. "But I promise you this: I’ll always come back to you. No matter what."
Tears slipped down your cheeks, but you smiled through them. "You’d better," you said, squeezing his hand. "Because I’m not letting you go that easily."
For the first time in a long time, Kakashi allowed himself to feel hope. It was a fragile thing, but it was enough. Enough to make him believe that maybe, just maybe, he could have something more than duty and regret.
The two of you stood there, hand in hand, as the sun disappeared behind the hills. The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the unspoken promise that no matter the distance, no matter the time, you would find your way back to each other.
Because some bonds were worth fighting for. Some bonds were worth dying for.
When your card declines at therapy so they remind you how Jude knows for certain how true the axiom of equality is, because he himself––his very life––has proven it. The person I was will always be the person I am, he realizes. The context may have changed: he may be in this apartment, and he may have a job that he enjoys and that pays him well, and he may have parents and friends he loves. He may be respected; in court, he may even be feared. But fundamentally, he is the same person, a person who inspires disgust, a person meant to be hated.
Reading Ottesa Moshfegh's "My year of rest and relaxation " has altered my brain chemistry, it's so bad and good at the same time, definitely an unhinged read.
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