not that you don't know. it's so evident in everything he does, the small acts of affection which permeate his every moment with you.
kakashi is quick to show you just how much he cares in every little thing. even if his mouth is not yet comfortable with the syllables, you will feel i love you in every meal he makes for you, each time he reads aloud to you from his favorite book, in all the lingering glances and subtle smiles he shares; every gentle touch (and the not-so-gentle ones, too).
and when he fucks you, kakashi claims you over and over with his words: "you're mine, you're mine, you're mine." and you know what that means - know it his way of saying he loves you. that he chooses you & is so grateful you've chosen him.
so when you wrap your arms around him and answer, "i'm yours, i'm yours, only yours," kakashi understands, too. he whines at how good it feels to belong to someone, to be loved.
"i'm yours," he whispers, husky and low against your ear as he finishes. and you respond in kind with a kiss, "you're all mine."
I don't know who needs to hear this, but buy you some clothes that fit and stop beating yourself up for gaining or losing weight.
Obviously this has been the most stressful seasons we've been through, but let's get into those moments when it felt like life dragged you around like a rag doll with personal struggles that'll never make headlines.
Your body has shown up for you in ways you could never have planned for. You survived loss, transition, growth, failure and success.
You can't beat yourself up and take care of yourself at the same time. Be gentle with yourself. Put on your stretchy pants.
Also, if you're trying to lose some pounds during this stressful period, please DM me so that you can donate some extra to my ministry😊
How would built up sexual tension with Kakashi feel like?
like a bolt of lightning. a zap of electricity. letting your fingertip just barely graze an open flame.
so intense you must draw away before you're burned. injured. before you can't take it back.
because giving in is not an option - the reason this feeling has built up the way it has is because you know if you succumb, there is no turning back.
it's more than attraction. more than lust. it is a deep, simmering need. kakashi is such an enigmatic presence. you have no idea if he feels the same, no indication the way you react to his presence is reciprocated.
so it's quite a surprise when one evening you find yourself in a dark hallway, kakashi's body pressed close to yours, the warmth of his breath fanning over your face from beneath the mask still pulled taut over his mouth.
your stomach flips, your heart somersaults, your breath hitches. you can smell him, feel the warmth of his body pressing against you. you listen as his breath rasps in and out, watch as the pupil of his dark grey eye widens, bores into you.
and then his mask pulls down and he leans forward, and you are totally enraptured by the lower half of his face, brain incapable of comprehending exactly what this means, even as you lean forward and your lips meet his...
kakashi is no stranger to the overnight watch. so long has he undertaken the burden of team sentinel, he can no longer recall a mission that he didn't offer to take it.
but there is something very different about tonight's watch. something sharp and urgent about the vulnerability of the others scattered around the campfire.
these are not hardened soldiers, as he is used to.
they are children--delicate and untrained and stupid. and there is no way he will be able to keep them alive long enough for them to see konoha again, of that he is certain.
it is team 7's first mission beyond the village walls. the first time they have had to make camp as a team and sleep on the cold, hard ground beneath the stars. kakashi has already had to tend blisters on uncalloused feet, to heal a small cut from an errant branch above an eye, and remove four ticks from tender skin while reminding everyone to be cautious near long grasses and brush.
he wishes he had insisted they all wear pants and long sleeves, but it had not occurred to him until they had already departed.
their entire hike, kakashi's eyes continuously swept the path left, right, and left again for signs of venomous snakes, never so annoyed with the open-toed nature of the standard issue shinobi shoes as during their sojourn.
and now, he stares at three impossibly small bodies around the campfire. watches their smooth, unworried faces as they sleep too deeply.
his hands tremble as he lays them on each genin's sleeping bag, desperate to feel the gentle rise and fall of their torsos as they breathe. assurance they remain alive, if defenseless.
naruto and sakura did not stir when he laid his hands on them; proof they are too trusting to survive. sasuke, at least, furrowed his brow slightly, though that would hardly keep him alive in the event of an enemy attack.
kakashi's own chest is tight and he lays his palm over his heart to feel the too-quick rhythm. his stomach churns, and there is a dull ache building at the front of his skull.
panic manifesting in the spaces between his bones.
he grits his teeth, stokes the fire for something to do with his still shaking hands that is not check whether his genin charges are breathing for the seventh time.
he leans his head back against the rough bark of a tree, tries to close his eyes, but cannot. instead, he looks up through the canopy at the sky and begins counting all the stars he can see. he does this until his heart slows and the panic ebbs.
it takes far more stars than he cares to admit for his teeth to stop grinding.
and the feeling doesn't retreat entirely, just fades to his periphery so at least he can see the way forward.
the sun will rise soon. he will toe each of his young charges in the ribs to rouse them, hands in his pockets as if it is the most boring thing he has ever done.
secretly, his body will relax, grateful when they open their eyes and blink up at him blearily. grateful when they complain and argue on the path. grateful to untangle twigs from their hair, to soothe sunburns and insect bites.
because at least if they are awake, they can react to danger. they can run when he tells them to.
and they will never be so still that kakashi must check to ensure they are still breathing.
it's absolutely insane the way a person can weave their way into so many minute and uninteresting aspects of your life. that a single other human can, years and years and years down the road, influence everything from your moral compass to your sense of humor and your preferred flavor of antacid.
that one person can become so much a part of you that if they go away, it's like part of you has been amputated. not a leg or an arm or anything so tangible, but some deep, important piece of your insides that grew around them like a splinter and had to be cut away at the same time because they had become the same thing.
they've buried themselves in your heart like a seed and grown roots so deep and strong that you can never pull them all the way out and even long after they are gone, little seedlings will sprout each spring; a reminder you need and crave while also feeling so fucking apprehensive. afraid of the reminders.
more afraid that one day they will cease regrowing.
Hiya Lem! Sorry if I’m too late~but hows about 17 and Kakashi for the Spotify wrapped fic game! Or if ya got too many Kashi’s, maybe Yugao! ~or anyone you feel fits the song best~ ❤︎₊ ⊹
17. fire - louis the child ft. evalyn.
only one late here is me. <3 also, never too many kakashis i did both! sort of!
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lookin' up, starlight; take me there, i wanna fly
Kakashi’s back is hard against Yugao’s as they face the closing circle of enemies, his voice a barely discernable growl as he barks orders from behind his broken mask. They are in the shit, and Yugao for the first time since taking her ANBU oath wonders if this may be the mission that prevents her from ever returning home.
She looks up, the pinpoints of stars dancing in her blurred vision overhead. She doesn’t have time to contemplate the concussion, though, because Kakashi springs forward and she must do the same if she wants to survive, to protect her teammates.
The battle is protracted and bloody. By the time Team Ro limps away, they are all battered and bruised. Ko’s ankle is broken and he leans against Tenzo who used some of the last of his strength to create a wooden crutch to help distribute the weight.
Yugao looks ahead. Their team leader is tense, Hound’s shoulders lifted almost to his ears. Kakashi’s silver hair is stained red and brown – new and old blood mixing with the shimmering strands, matting it to his scalp in places. She wonders how much is his, how much belongs to those he slayed, if any of it came from her own wounds.
In addition to an obvious head injury, she herself has sustained several lacerations and fears she may be bleeding internally, if the sickly grey bruise spreading over her abdomen is any indication. She won’t be able to see a skilled enough medic until they are back in Konoha, and so she grits her teeth against the pain and follows her Captain. When her eyes flutter closed a few short hours later, voices screaming her call sign, the faint beginning of panic bleeding into the edges of the syllables, the last thing she sees is the face of Hound blotting out the stars.
Yugao stares at Kakashi’s panicked half-face through his broken mask and tries to tell him it’s not his fault. She always knew her life in the corps would end this way.
but i’m miles off the ground; i’m leavin’ this whole match city to burn
The hospital lights are blinding, the itchy blankets too cloying and hot when she wakes. Yugao throws them away, but when she tries to stand, she wavers, suddenly dizzy; vision blurring in defiance of the too-bright lights. Adrenaline, insistent and overwhelming, courses through her quicker than common sense.
A firm hand grasps one arm, holds her steady. Her hearing is fuzzy at first, but then it clears like she’s coming up from underwater. “Stand down, Uzuki-san.”
Her eyes slide over to find Kakashi, wearing Konoha’s standard jonin uniform. It feels wrong to see him in the blue fatigues and flak vest. She can’t even remember the last time she’s seen anyone on her team out of their ANBU uniform. Sometimes it feels like they live more of their lives as their masked counterparts than as themselves.
Even though most of his face is covered, it still feels like an intrusion to see his right eye peaking out from over his mask. She’s used to Hound, not Kakashi Hatake.
She tries to shrug out of his grip, but Kakashi’s fingers only dig in harder, forcing her down until she’s sitting on the bed again. She curses, feeling the beginnings of another bruise. When he releases her, Yugao massages the place where his hand had been.
“I don’t think the medics would take kindly to you injuring a patient.”
“If that patient would stay in bed resting, I wouldn’t have to.”
Yugao scoffs lightly, but knows better than to challenge him further. Stories of Kakashi’s escapes from this very place are legendary and many. She has personally witnessed him scrambling from the window of a higher floor room, the voice of the Head Medic screaming its way into Konoha in his wake as Kakash rips an IV line from between his fingers.
She heard they started putting the lines in his feet so it would be more difficult for him to pull them out without drawing attention from the guard in his room.
Still, she supposes she is in no position to question her commander—standard uniform or no. Kakashi walks to the window and pushes it open.
“I expect you to report back as soon as you’re discharged,” is all he says before he disappears.
Yugao smirks. She knows he wouldn’t be here unless he cared about her well-being, despite his best efforts to conceal any concern. But every member of Team Ro has seen their Captain’s selflessness, the blows he takes so they won’t have to. He can’t hide his true nature from any of them, no matter how hard he tries.
long nights, it’s a lifestyle; so good to the last drop
Yugao wonders if there is some innate biology that prepares someone to be a great leader. Kakashi must have it, if so. She is in awe, watching him bark out orders not only to their squadron but countless others in the gathered crowd. Everyone listens. Everyone.
There is not a single person within hearing distance who does not sense he is the best person to direct the recovery efforts. Even if it’s outside the scope of Team Ro’s mission. Even if he is a foreign shinobi – none of that matters.
He oozes confidence; competence. His voice is clear, steady, and sharp; it makes people believe in him. It is why Yugao has always found it so easy to follow him into battle, even when the odds are precariously stacked in the enemy’s favor. Her chest flares with warmth for her Captain, for her luck in being assigned to his team.
By the time the dust clears, she knows the number of survivors would be more than half what it is had Kakashi not been here to direct the rescue teams.
She watches as he wanders off by himself, settles against a cold rock to open a rations pack and eat in solitude. She doesn’t approach him; knows how important the decompression space is after an emotionally tumultuous effort. She and Tenzo find themselves a place to sit together and do the same, talking quietly about the mission; everything that went wrong and how eager they are to return to Konoha. To take a hot bath and sleep in their own beds, no matter how uncomfortable their old mattresses are.
When she sneaks a glance back over at Kakashi, she sees he’s sitting with his head tilted back against the stone behind him. From the steady rise and fall of his chest, she thinks he might finally be catching a few precious moments of sleep.
Good, she thinks. He rarely truly rests during their team assignments, and she can see the toll it takes, even without seeing his face.
“Something I can help you with, Leopard?”
Yugao stiffens, not expecting his voice.
“No, sir,” she says, clearing her throat, “Just wondering what our next orders are.” She ignores Tenzo’s teasing glance, the soft huff of his breath as he allows a half-chuckle escape his mouth.
She’ll get him back for that later—as if he wasn’t staring at Kakashi, too. Though, she thinks, Tenzo’s reasons are very different from her own.
“We’ll move out in ten,” Kakashi says, standing, “so best finish your rations.”
Yugao nods quickly, stuffing the rest of the bar in her mouth before chasing it with a gulp of water from a canteen offered by Tenzo. She watches Kakashi’s back the entire way to Konoha, as she so often does, still wondering how he had known she was watching. Another enigmatic piece of her Captain’s puzzle—one she will likely never slot into place. No matter how many missions she runs with him, she does not think she’ll ever find enough pieces to construct a clear picture.
i'll watch it go down; ‘cause that sun gonna take me with it
Yugao can’t move. She feels as if she’s been buried beneath a ton of rocks, each one heavier than the last. Her face itches, eyes tearing no matter how hard she tries to stave off the sadness. The skin around them is red and raw, her lips chapped.
Hayate is gone. And she cannot bear it. Doesn’t want to.
Without him, she sees little reason to move. To eat or breathe or live.
Weak, her mind whispers, you are so weak.
There have been countless knocks at her apartment door, calls from friends and comrades asking to be let inside. They have food, they have flowers, they are checking on her.
Yugao doesn’t care. She wants nothing to do with any of it.
When she hears her bedroom window slide open, Yugao thinks maybe the enemy who killed Hayate has come for her, too. She closes her eyes, grateful for the opportunity to join him in the afterlife, for an end to this awful suffering.
“Get up.”
Her eyes snap open and there is Kakashi Hatake, staring down at her with one cool grey eye.
Her lip trembles, embarrassment lighting her nerves. She covers her face with her arms, an awful sob barreling from her mouth before she has the sense to stop it, to shove it down the way a good soldier should be able to.
Not him. Not her Captain. It doesn’t matter that Hound has not led Team Ro for years, Yugao still looks up to him. Still marvels at the grace with which he can adapt to any weapon, the efficacy with which he can devise a battle plan in any scenario.
Even the way he has taken three unruly genin under his wing, though rumor has it he is perhaps not as adept at leading children as he was Black Ops operatives.
Yugao’s crying seems to never end, ceaseless rivers of tears streaming from her eyes, lungs jolting until she hiccups pathetically.
She hears Kakashi sigh and assumes he will leave, that she is too pathetic and weak for him to help her.
Instead, she feels the mattress dip when he sits down a few minutes later, allows him to pry her arms away from her face as he lays a cool, damp towel over her eyes and forehead.
It feels nice, and her hiccups lessen and then eventually quiet, though a few errant tears continue to leak from the corners of her eyes no matter how hard she tries to staunch the flow.
“It never goes away,” Kakashi says quietly.
Yugao peels the washcloth off and looks at him, but his gaze is trained elsewhere, far across the room. Across time, she thinks, looking at something she will never see.
“You will carry him with you for the rest of your life, and it will be a burden.”
She tries to protest—Hayate could never be a burden to her—but Kakashi holds up his hand, fingers twisted into the mission signal for silence, and she is still good, she finds, at following orders.
When Kakashi turns to look at her, Yugao gasps. Because the fabric beneath his sharingan is damp with tears. His other eye bores into hers, intense and clear. “It will also be the greatest honor to keep him in your memory, and that is why you will get out of this bed and continue on.”
It doesn’t happen right away. Not that afternoon, or the next. But Kakashi keeps visiting, keeps prying her window open and handing her bowls of broth and eventually, Yugao pulls herself out from beneath her blankets and she returns to the world; heart heavier, but her purpose clearer than it has ever been.
i'm building a fire, fire, oh; i'm buildin’ it higher, higher, oh
This is something she can do. A way to avenge Hayate, to protect her home. To carry him with her and use the grief to make something better.
Cutting down Sound shinobi as they rampage through the streets of Konoha has suddenly become Yugao’s favorite thing in the world. She pours all the anger and love she ever felt for Hayate into each swing, as if every enemy she sees is the one who made that killing stroke. She is grateful for all he taught her, the strength she has now because of him.
She throws herself in front of a civilian, holds her armored forearm up to stop an enemy nin’s axe in its bid for flesh. The armor bends, cracking beneath the force, the edge of the blade biting into her skin.
Yugao only smirks. No wound can hurt as much as the one in her chest, the vacancy where Hayate should still be and isn’t.
Behind her mask, she grins. And when her enemy falls to her feet, throat opened like a smile, Yugao wonders if her Captain would be proud of the soldier she has become.
If Kakashi knows how much she learned from him.
Whether Hayate is watching her from somewhere far away, complaining under his breath about her sloppy footwork as she sidesteps one attack and parries another.
She hopes so.
There will be time for such questions later. For now, she has more important things to attend to. Because, though she knows she may one day find herself in a battle she cannot win, she also knows that today, battling for her village in its heart—her teammates scattered around her doing the same—is not a fight she will allows herself to lose.
and if i go down in flames; the smoke gonna spell my name
