Warnings: mentions of death, mentions of prostitution, like slightly dark? Gritty maybe is a better descriptor, Naruto world taken seriously.
Length: 1888 words
Pairing: MinaKushi, Minato’s Canonical Dad x Minato’s Canonical Mom
Genre: romance, drama, slight angst (we know how these two ended up), crack taken seriously
Summary: the story of Minato’s parents, and how that influenced Minato’s decisions, and his courtship of Kushina. Inspired by this post about Minato being extra.
Like many children in ninja villages—and truly, just children in general, since the Warring States Era and the formation of the Ninja Villages—Namikaze Minato is an orphan. His father was a self-taught ninja from a small village on the boarder of Kaze no Kuni, while his mother was a kunoichi from Tsuchi.
Though Minato's parents had died when he was young, he was old enough to remember them. He was old enough to understand why his parents were forced to hide away from their home countries, old enough to know when and why he had to hide and lie.
He was old enough to understand why tousan had to escape in the night while he and kaachan had to flee in the cover of tousan's sacrifice distraction.
He was old enough to understand why he and kaachan had to lie about their ninja training when they immigrated into Konoha with forged papers so realistic that not even Konoha's infamous T&I, or their renowned Yamanaka clan could tell the difference.
He was old enough to understand why kaachan was forced to work in the way she did, why strange people would spend an hour or two, or sometimes even the whole night behind the door to his mother's room, why she made him leave when some specific visitors stopped by, why he eventually came home to find her laying in bed, blooms of red and shocks of shiny white against her cold, still skin.
He was old enough to remember it all—to want to change it all, one day—but his mind would always take him back to one specific memory.
His most precious memory of all.
The love in his parents' eyes.
Minato could recite the story word for word, with how much his kaachan told it—how much more she would cling to the words after tousan was gone.
Kaachan was from Iwagakure, having sworn her life to the Tsuchikage and the Tsuchi no Kuni daimyou as a kunoichi of the Rock. Touchan truly had no allegiance—his skills had come from a talent with chakra and a necessity for self-defense.
So when touchan had seen a group of Suna-nin abducting a woman, he did what any good man would do.
He saved her.
Touchan had followed after the Suna-nin in secret, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Touchan was not sure he could defeat the two Suna-nin on his own, but he knew that with the help of the right environment and a few tricks, he could come out victorious.
With his wind chakra aiding him in both speed and his strikes, touchan caught the first nin completely off guard. As the second nin—the one holding kaachan—noticed his partner listing to the right—before the dead body could hit the ground—touchan had just as swiftly eliminated the other, catching kaachan in his arms.
Unwilling to linger at the scene, touchan carried kaachan away, until it was safe for them to stop. When touchan untied kaachan's binds, she couldn't help herself.
Kaachan pulled touchan into a kiss.
It was in that moment that kaachan fell in love with touchan. Both were alone in this cruel ninja world. The shinobi nations were in the midst of the second Great Ninja War. People were dying left and right, hundreds every day.
Who would miss one kunoichi? Who would recognise one self-taught man from the edges of Kaze no Kuni?
Who would give up on the chance of happiness, love, and family, when the world had taken so much from them?
He remembers asking his parents how they knew they were in love after just one meeting.
His mother always answered, “A selfless act of kindness in a cruel world is a rare thing to be treasured. When you find that, especially when you're alone and hopeless, it's easier to leave behind the entirety of your harsh, unfriendly life for even just a single moment with such a person."
When Minato asked his touchan, his father always answered, "There is not much kindness in this world, not much any single person alone can do to fix that. We work hard, we may try to help others, but that's not going to get any one man very far. Kaachan has a fire in her, a toughness, a resilliance which cannot be crushed. She is fierce in her mind, body, and soul. As a man forced to grow and survive on his own, I know just how valuable, and how rare those traits are. I had desperately craved for companionship, for a family, and your mother has the strength and resilliance to ensure our story will be longer than most."
At the time, Minato didn't truly understand what either of his parents meant. But as an orphan, as a boy all alone, who had witnessed the worst of the world and wanted to make it better, who had his world stripped from him in a place that should have been safe, with the weight of his parents sacrifices on his mind and the desperate urge for a family once more...
Minato fell in love.
All he knew about love was what he'd seen from his parents. With no advice, no one to turn to, Minato did the only thing he could:
He emulated the fond, much told memory of how his parents fell in love with the percotions, strong-willed, resilliant Uzumaki Kushina.
And like a blessing from beyond, like a gift from his absent parents, Uzumaki Kushina—who had only ever glared and grumbled at Minato before then—had fallen in love with him.
It hadn't been hard to use the shadow-clone jutsu and then henge them into Kumo-nin. It wasn't hard to find Kushina all alone, after tricking the ANBU who followed her with a genjutsu laid out by Uchiha Fugaku's sharingan.
It wasn't hard for Minato to gently disable (but not disperse!) his own clones, to catch Kushina in his arms, to take her to "safety" (as if she were in any danger at all).
It wasn't hard to attract her heart and capture it—not with his boyish good looks, his patience, and most damning of all—
Kushina's lonliness and desire for connection.
With her home village destroyed and Mito-sama recently deceased, there wasn't a better time for him to put his ploy in motion. Maybe to a civilian that might seem callous, but to a ninja, that was just smart planning.
What did it matter if he was using her grief and loneliness to his advantage? His company would heal that for her anyways.
(Besides, it was his grief and lonliness which drove him to do it).
Minato would grow up to be a lot of things: a hero and a curse, a soldier and a leader, a husband and—just briefly—a father.
Minato would not go on to share the story of how he got Kushina to love him with his son. Minato would instead go on to emulate his father, sacrificing himself in the hopes of giving his child a shot at a better life.
But that was for later. In this moment, in the shoddy comfort of the bachelor apartment allotted to orphaned ninja-in-training, Minato put the pieces of his plan together.
Minato was old enough to retain memories of his life before Konoha, before his parents were taken from him, but only one memory stood out.
And so he remembered.
And so he took the past and made it his present with dreams of the future on his mind.
Fun Facts!
I imagine Minato's mom to be blonde like he, Naruto, and Deidara are, while his dad has red hair similar to Kushina and Gaara. His mother's hair was smooth and straight while his father's was spikes like Minato and Naruto.
The ninja who killed Minato's father were sent after his mother for desertion. Another Iwa-nin had caught sight of her and reported back to the Tsuchikage. The nin were sent to kill Minato's parents but were instructed to bring Minato back alive in case he was useful. I kind of puts Minato's massacre of those thousand Iwa-nin during the Third War into a new light...
Fugaku only agreed to help Minato because when he initially refused, Minato accused Fugaku of not being able to do it. Fugaku, like a certain other Uchiha we know, was desperate to prove himself. Minato didn't tell Fugaku about his plan, he just dared Fugaku to trick the ANBU.
Minato had to practice with his clones for weeks to be able to fight them without them "popping." He ended up having to use a seal on them to make them more resilliant. It was his first time working with fuinjutsu, and what sparked his love for it. Kushina's interest only heightened his own.
Yes, Minato's dad only went along with kaachan's feelings because he was lonely and she was strong. Relationships have been built on less. He was a very pragmatic man. He did genuinely fall in love with her though.
When Minato and his mom immigrated to Konoha, she had to pretend to be a civilian with no ninja training to avoid suspicion, and be offered asylum as a Hi no Kuni refugee. As a foreigner (even one posing as a Fire Country citizen) and with the growing number of refugees, it was hard for her to find a job, so she became a prostitute. She was killed by a nin who was triggered and experienced a panic attack/flashback. He fled the scene after, and ended up letting himself get killed during his next mission. The case of her murder remains unsolved—not that the police did much investigating. There were more pressing issues to deal with at the time.
The harsh life Minato lived—as a fugitive and then a refugee and orphan—is what led him to want to be Hokage. He wanted to save people from the pain he and his parents suffered.
Kushina's spirit (and declaration to be Hokage) is what attracted Minato to her. His father's words of finding someone strong and stubborn enough to survive in this cruel ninja world is what made him decide she was the one for him.
Kushina is dumb. So dumb. Didn't catch on even once. Fell for the plot hook, line, and sinker. Even when, years later, Minato shared the story of how his parents met with her, Kushina did not piece his plan together.
Due to Minato using "Kumo"-nin to carry out the abduction, he made their already poor reputation in Konoha worse. This was further exasterbated when real Kumo-nin actually tried to kidnap Hinata.
Minato sacrafied himself that night when Kurama was unleashed on the village, because all he could think of in that moment was the way his father sacrificed himself to save Minato and his mom. It clouded his judgement from more logical options, like, I don't know, not casting a suicide jutsu to trap half a tailed beast in his minutes old son and his soon to be dead body.
Kushina was delirious from pain meds, having an tailed beast extracted from her, and her own hotheadedness. It was a bad mix.
In the end, Naruto learnt that rescuing a girl is the way to her heart, following the Namikaze family tradition of courtship.
AN: So, uh... This got darker than I thought. The post that inspired this was so cute too. I wrote this a few weeks ago on a night I was too busy for this bs and yet it would not let me rest until it was released. I wrote this after being challenged prompted by @books-n-guns, as crack is my apparent specialty (we been knew, I know. After the LeeKaguya fic I think I solidified my place in this fandom). I hope you enjoyed it!
The Sharingan is red,
The Rasengan is blue,
If you left the village
I’d lose an arm over you
bonus:
Uzumaki hair is red,
Namikaze eyes are blue,
if you were the kyuubi jinchuriki
I wouldn’t shun you like the entire village even if you were my sensei’s child and I was devastated from losing the last people I really held dear to me and I was hiding in the depths of ANBU
Sweet Surprises [A MadaKaka Valentine’s Day Special]
AN: Hey, it's me! The author who is never around. I decided to write something short for Valentine's Day, but it ran away from me. So enjoy this epic one-shot filled with nonsense and subtle (and not so subtle) foreshadowing. This takes place in the 2sb1sf verse, in the future after Madara and Kakashi get together. This is un-beta'd and not really edited at all, because I am so done with it.
This has also been posted on AO3, and clocks in at 8364 words.
Madara had a problem (when did he not, let’s be real). But for once, this was a problem he didn’t think he could solve on his own.
Tomorrow was Valentine’s Day.
It was a holiday that Konoha had adopted from the civilians, and as such, Madara had never celebrated it before—not that he’d ever had someone he wanted to celebrate it with. But now Madara did have someone, someone he wanted to show his love and appreciation for, and yet…
He didn’t know how to make chocolate.
Madara wasn’t sure why chocolates were the chosen gift of the day. Furthermore, he wasn’t sure why store-bought chocolate was considered an insult if given to someone very special to you. How in the blazes was everyone supposed to know how to make chocolate from scratch?
Women.
Madara blamed it on the unfair expectations society put on civilian women. Why the holiday was arranged around women proving to their lovers (or hopeful, potential lovers) that they were excellent chefs was beyond Madara. Not that he didn’t understand the underlying premise—the idea that a man would only want a woman who was an excellent cook—but why women perpetuated this stupid expectation was the baffling part.
On White Day, exactly one month later, men were expected to return the women’s chocolatey affection in the form of an expensive gift—yet another stupid, socially constructed idea. The woman proves that she’s an excellent homemaker while the man proves he has money to provide for her.
It was the most civilian thing he could think of.
Still, Hashirama had encouraged the ninja of Konoha to take part in the holiday. Madara believed this was mostly because he wanted to receive chocolates from Mito (and his secretary, and his assistant, and basically every kunoichi under village employ), but that was neither here nor there. Madara couldn’t care less about what Hashirama and Mito did in their relationship (he would rather be completely ignorant of the entire affair, to be honest. Hashirama was loud).
What Madara did care about was Kakashi, and how this stupid holiday might affect their relationship.
The women were supposed to make the chocolate for the men. This already was not a very inclusive holiday. Knowing that neither would receive a gift on this ridiculous Valentine’s Day (and who or what in the blazes was this Valentine?) Madara took it upon himself to be the gift giver. It made sense to him; men were supposed to receive gifts of chocolate, so he would make Kakashi some chocolates.
Madara did not acknowledge to himself that he was hoping Kakashi would get him something too.
So Madara did what he always did when he had a seemingly unsolveable problem.
He went to Izuna.
Only, Izuna was in an uncharacteristically foul mood.
“Who even cares about this stupid civilian holiday?!” Izuna exclaimed when Madara posed his query. Izuna looked a mess; his hair was loose and starting to frizz, appearing more like Madara’s own messy locks. Izuna had been destroying innocent training posts out on the Uchiha’s private training grounds when Madara found him.
Madara couldn’t help but smirk at the scene. It took a lot to get Izuna riled up, unless you found the right buttons. Madara knew of two very sensitive buttons which never failed to get Izuna in a rut. It appeared that at least one of them had been pushed.
“Just because you’re worried about whether you’re going to get anything from—”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” Izuna interrupted, venom dripping from his words.
Madara’s eyebrows rose in surprise. This was more serious than he had thought.
“Perhaps I’ll just ask Tatsumi for help.”
Izuna scoffed, muttering “Whatever,” before going back to destroying the field with vigour.
Madara, very smartly, decided retreat was his smartest option.
Luckily, he found Tatsumi in her kitchen making chocolates with her niece, Michika.
“Well well,” Madara said as he took in the scene. There were blocks of dark chocolate on the counter, an open jar of coco powder (which seemed to be accidentally coating the countertop as well), and a large pot of heavy cream warming on the stove. A stack of metal bowls was set off to the side. Michika was carefully cutting the chocolate into small pieces while Tatsumi was stirring butter into the cream. “I can’t believe my eyes.”
“Oh shut it, Dara-chan,” Tatsumi said, without taking her eyes off the stove. The same stove Kakashi had modified to light itself several years ago, near the beginning of their friendship. Madara stifled down the urge to yell at Tatsumi for using that dreaded nickname in the face of what he would have to ask.
“Who are you making chocolates for, sweet imouto?” Madara’s tone was mocking, though he was genuinely curious.
“I’m making the chocolates. Ba-sensei is just helping,” Michika piped up.
Madara’s eyes widened in confusion. “You? Aren’t you too young for such things? And why isn’t your mo—” Madara was cut off by a wooden spoon flying at his head. He managed to catch it, though just barely. The warning glare he caught in Tatsumi’s eyes at almost mentioning MIchika’s mother made Madara realise that changing the subject was a smart idea.
“I didn’t realise you were a chocolatier,” he went with instead, smartly returning the spoon to his cousin.
“It doesn’t take a genius to follow a recipe,” Tatsumi said with a pointed look, one that reminded Madara of exploding stoves and burned down kitchens. The flush that bloomed on his cheeks was from the heat of the kitchen, not embarrassment. No, Madara was never embarrassed.
“So, why are you here?”
That was the question, wasn’t it?
This time, Madara could not deny the deepening flush on his cheeks was from embarrassment (even though he never got embarrassed, of course). He had hoped to catch Tatsumi alone, but he could see that would not be happening for a long time.
“IwanttomakeKakashichocolatesforValentine’sDay,” Madara said in a rush.
Thankfully, Tatsumi was either in a good mood, or she was too busy focusing to make him repeat himself.
Instead, she just laughed.
“Awww, Dara-chan is so cute, isn’t he, Michika?”
“DON’T CALL ME THAT!”
“Don’t worry, we’ll help you, Dara-ji!”
“YOU GOT HER SAYING IT TOO?”
“You can blame Kakashi for that, actually.”
“That bastard!” Madara scowled.
“Still want to make him chocolates?” Tatsumi teased, smirking at him over her shoulder.
Madara crossed his arms and pouted. His family was terrible and Kakashi was somehow the worst of the bunch.
The thought of Kakashi as family, however, filled him with warmth. Of course he still wanted to make Kakashi chocolates. Madara nodded confidently.
“Well in that case, you have a problem.”
“What?”
“Did you forget that Kakashi doesn’t like sweets?”
“Fu—”
Madara never got a chance to finish that thought, as the wooden spoon came flying at him again. He caught it once more, and warily gave it back to Tatsumi. When she noticed his downtrodden expression, she sighed, putting a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.
“We’ll figure something out.”
Across the village, Kakashi was doing what he always did when Hashirama got over excited about something.
Kakashi was hiding with Tobirama in one of Tobirama’s hidden labs. Well, hidden from Hashirama, anyways.
Usually, Tobirama was good company. He was quiet and thoughtful, but mostly quiet. When Tobirama was working on one of his projects, it was impossible to engage him in anything but. He might mutter to himself from time to time, but Kakashi actually found that comforting. It was less lonely.
Kakashi enjoyed hiding in Tobirama’s lab, reading Icha Icha, or even just dozing lightly, Tobirama’s puttering and muttering serving as a reminder that he wasn’t alone. Kakashi even enjoyed discussing Tobirama’s theories on occasion. Trying to figure out how to make a jutsu work, or how to perfect one that already existed had become a pastime Kakashi grew to enjoy. It was a measure of peace he had not felt back in his own time, not since he lost his father.
But Tobirama’s presence was decidedly not comforting today.
While Tobirama could be calm and quiet and thoughtful, he also had a nasty temper. Although Tobirama was much harder to rile up than Madara, when the right button was pushed, Tobirama could be a right brat. And by the way Tobirama was stomping around his lab, flitting from experiment to experiment unable to concentrate, Kakashi was pretty sure something had managed to catch Tobirama’s ire.
But Kakashi did not spend too much time worrying about what had Tobirama all riled up. Kakashi had his own problem, one he never thought he would have.
Should he make Madara Valentine’s Day chocolates?
This wasn’t Kakashi’s first Valentine’s Day. He had endured plenty in the past… err, future. He wasn’t sure what it was about him that made so many his classmates admire him, and had always ended up spending the day avoiding his potential paramours. Just the scent of chocolate was enough to make him disappear, regardless of the day. He even used to skip training with his team on Valentine’s Day; it left him too exposed, and Minato used to make him accept the gifts. Then he would have to go around on White Day to return the gesture (though he always made sure to buy the cheapest, most terrible of the gifts to deter any interest. It didn’t help).
Even after his sensei had died, Kakashi made a habit of hiding away on the fourteenth of February, partially out of habit, but also because it brought up too many bad memories. He didn’t have a teammate to bring him a gift, or a sensei to make him accept it. He had always wanted to be left alone on that day, but the price he paid for such a wish was too high.
Just another example of how badly Kakashi had managed to fuck up his own life.
This year was different. Kakashi hadn’t thought it was possible, but he had a family. He had two brothers and a sort of sister, he had friends he treasured and could rely on, and he was…
He was in love.
Kakashi hadn’t thought it was possible for him to fall in love, partially because he knew he didn’t deserve it, but mostly because he had never been interested in someone like that before. For all the people who had confessed to him, Kakashi had never even remotely felt a connection in return. No matter how beautiful or handsome, how caring or kind, how skilled or impressive, Kakashi had never felt romantic or even sexual attraction.
It wasn’t that he never felt arousal—Icha Icha and many nights with his hands (and sometimes a clone or two) was proof enough. It wasn’t that he didn’t desire that sort of closeness when he wasn’t lying to or hating himself—Icha Icha had proven that too. But there just wasn’t anyone Kakashi had felt that way for.
When his father died, Kakashi closed off his heart. While the time with his genin team had eventually helped, their deaths, one after another, proved the change was too little too late. While Tenzou and Itachi had begun to become his new family, he was pulled into the past and lost that too. It seemed as if every time Kakashi got close to someone, they would inevitably be taken away.
Until now.
Kakashi had spent more years in the past with his new family than he had spent with any of the others. He used to wish that he would be sent back to the future, but now he prayed he could stay. It was that fear of leaving that had made him resistant to Madara’s pursuit initially, but as the years passed and so did the actual past (Kakashi was no history buff, but he knew enough about the Warring States and Founders Era to know that his presence and interference had made major changes to the history of the Shinobi Nations) Kakashi’s attitude had changed.
Kakashi had grown and changed, and dare he think it, healed in his time in the past. Kakashi hadn’t thought he would find happiness, hadn’t thought he deserved happiness, but that all had changed with his new family beating the self-loathing out of him. Not that Kakashi didn’t still hate himself to an extent—he didn’t think he would ever be able to forgive himself for some things—but the weight of his failures was easier to carry. A lot of that had to do with his new brothers, but Madara had also played a huge part. Kakashi could not begin to express how grateful he was to have them all in his life, but he wanted to try.
Which brought him to his current issue.
Kakashi wasn’t sure what the protocol was for Valentine’s Day when the two who were in a relationship were both men. He also wasn’t sure whether he should be making chocolates for his new family, considering that wasn’t part of the tradition. The women in his life were supposed to give him something, and then he would have to return their gifts on White Day. But Kakashi did not feel like that was enough. Plus, that excluded his brothers from the exchange, which left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Least of his issues was the fact that Kakashi had never made chocolates before. Any idiot could follow a recipe…
Well, except Madara.
Kakashi chuckled at the memory of Madara’s kitchen on fire, the first time he had tried to make Kakashi dinner. And every other time he tried cooking since.
(It was universally agreed upon that Madara was no longer allowed to have a stove in his house. Izuna had to visit Tatsumi if he wanted to cook, not that Izuna minded).
The sound of Kakashi’s amusement, however, caught Tobirama’s attention, and not in a good way.
“What in the blazes are you laughing at!”
Kakashi, who had forgotten about Tobirama and his uncharacteristic agitation, jumped at the sudden break of his reverie.
Tobirama’s pale skin was flushed a bright red from his anger, making the stripes on his cheeks practially disappear. His eyes narrowed to slits in the glare he usually reserved for Madara or Izuna. Kakashi had never had the pleasure of being on the receiving end of that look, nor had Hashirama, despite how idiotic he could be. Tobirama usually glared at them with a sort of resigned fondness, despite whatever they had done to upset him. For Tobirama to be this wound up, it had to be something serious.
“Maa-maa, Tobi-nii is so mad today…”
Tobirama would never admit to rolling his eyes at the nickname Kakashi had adapted from Hashirama, as such an act was ‘below’ him. Tobirama really had far too much in common with the two Uchiha he harboured an exceptional hatred for.
“I am not mad!”
The venom with which his words were delivered proved otherwise.
Kakashi sighed, putting his book away. While years ago (or years to come, really) Kakashi would have vanished at the first sight of someone in the throes of emotional turmoil, he was different now. Instead of avoiding emotional confrontations, Kakashi now tried—albeit awkwardly—to help.
“Perhaps you are worrying whether a certain someone is going to give you chocolates tomorrow?”
The heavy scroll thrown at his head proved, once again, that Kakashi was not very good at being comforting. At least he was quick enough to catch the projectile.
“Or maybe you’re worried someone else—”
This scroll was somehow larger and heavier, and the force of the throw pushed Kakashi back when he caught it.
“Does that mean you don’t want to talk about it?”
This time Tobirama leveled him with the Glare of Exasperated Affection. Perhaps Kakashi wasn’t so horrible at comforting people after all.
Who was he kidding? This was a job for Hashirama.
Tobirama sighed, brushing a hand through his uncharacteristically tousled hair. “Go make Madara some damn chocolates and leave me alone.”
Well, that at least answered that question.
“I’ll tell Hashirama where to find you—”
“DON’T YOU DARE, OTOUTO!”
Kakashi could not help his laughter as he left, even as various brushes, an ink stone, and several more scrolls followed in his wake.
Madara did not sleep a wink that night. He was too worried over whether or not Kakashi would enjoy the gift he had spent the entire afternoon and part of the evening making.
Okay, so he watched Tatsumi make it, as he was hopeless when it came to cooking. But he did help chop things, and pass her bowls and spoons and ingredients, which was as good as it was going to get when it came to Madara managing to cook anything.
It didn’t help that he could hear Izuna pacing up and down the hallways all night, still too agitated to sit, let alone lie down and fall asleep.
Valentine’s Day was a bad idea—one of Hashirama’s many terrible ideas.
Still, Madara was excited.
There was something about a day dedicated to expressing your love for someone that had Madara’s heart filling with warmth. Sure, he was dedicated to spending everyday loving Kakashi as it was, but taking the time to explicitly focus on it had the romantic in Madara preening.
It did not stop the nerves, however.
Kakashi had always been flighty, and it took years of chasing before he would stop for a short chat, let alone entertain the idea of dating Madara. While that flightiness had decreased significantly over the years, and even more so after they started dating, there were still things that would send Kakashi running.
Kakashi had problems with both emotional and physical intimacy; when faced with either, Kakashi's knee-jerk response was to disappear in a puff of smoke. The first few times that happened after they had gotten together, Madara feared he had lost Kakashi for good. Each time Kakashi returned—an apology delivered in a small gift, or a sweet kiss, or (Madara’s favourite) a story about Kakashi’s history—Madara felt more confidant in their relationship.
But each new thing filled Madara with anxiety. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Kakashi, but there were just so many things that did—things that wouldn’t hurt someone with a normal past—and Madara often found himself accidentally pressing on old wounds.
Each step closer seemed to require breaking down another barrier, and that tended to hurt the both of them. While they did end up closer in the end, Madara wished that they didn’t need to fight and hurt and bleed for every step forward.
When dawn broke, Madara was gone, his carefully wrapped gift in hand. The plain, circular box was covered in a red, silk handkerchief, patterned with small Uchiha fans. Madara hid the gift in the hip pouch Kakashi had gifted him for his last birthday.
In order to avoid any awkwardness, Madara decided he would deliver the gift to Kakashi’s room and run. Not the bravest course of action, but Madara consoled himself with the thought that it was actually something very ‘Kakashi.’ This way, Kakashi could open the gift privately, and choose whether or not he wanted to acknowledge Madara’s efforts, and how he wanted to react.
Madara was very proud of this plan. While he had no doubt that Kakashi would awaken at the intrusion to his bedroom, Kakashi was known to feign sleep to avoid situations—just as he often feigned ignorance or inattention when he wasn’t sure how to deal with things. Madara was counting on this habit for things to go smoothly.
All in all, Madara thought it would be the best way to deliver the gift, especially when considering Kakashi’s comfort and tendency to avoid emotional intimacy, even now. When Kakashi had given Madara his birthday gift, it was delivered through the post, despite the fact that they lived less than five minutes away from each other, if one took to the rooftops.
Madara was not dropping off the gift and running because he was afraid of watching Kakashi’s reaction. No, not at all.
Unfortunately, Madara’s plan was foiled when he got to the home Kakashi shared with Tobirama (the duo had moved out after Hashirama married Mito. Hashirama was Loud). How could such a simple plan fail, you ask? Because Kakashi wasn’t there. Instead, when Madara landed on Kakashi’s windowsill, he was greeted by the shoji screen to Kakashi’s room slamming open and the irate face of one Senju Tobirama.
“What do you think you’re doing here, Madara?” Tobirama practically spat, his glare at full throttle.
Madara was taken aback; Tobirama usually ignored him, or affected a purposely indifferent façade in his presence now a days. It was only Izuna who would automatically raise Tobirama’s hackles, at least in recent months. While Tobirama and Madara were far from being friends, they managed to get along well enough for missions and during council meetings. Tobirama hadn’t reacted too violently towards Madara since they stopped meeting each other on opposite sides of the battlefield.
Furthermore, Madara was being stealthy and quiet, as to give the impression that he was doing his best not to awaken Kakashi. So for Tobirama to have sensed him so quickly, he must have actively been infusing his charka. In other words…
“Were you hoping for someone else?” Madara did not even try to hide his smirk.
Tobirama’s glare grew even more venomous, if that were at all possible.
Madara chuckled. “You’re looking very sour today… perhaps you were hoping for a certain someone to stop by with something sweet?”
Even Madara could admit the pun was in bad taste, which is why he stopped himself from laughing when he saw how much angrier that last comment made Tobirama.
Tobirama took a visible breath to calm himself before deigning to reply.
“Kakashi isn’t here.”
“So I noticed.”
When Madara did not make to leave, Tobirama got even angrier.
“Leave.”
Madara bit back the “Or what?” on his tongue. He and Tobirama might have a mutual distaste for one another, but Madara was not so cruel as to taunt Tobirama when he was obviously upset (not anymore, at least). Still, as he turned to leave, he couldn’t help himself from offering one last comment.
“Should I send Hashirama over to cheer you up?”
The kunai Tobirama threw managed to trim a small section of Madara’s hair. Luckily, Madara’s hair was so messy, the difference wouldn’t be noticeable.
With Kakashi not at home, and Madara banned from leaving his gift there by an irate, kunai-wielding older brother, he had no choice but to find his lover and deliver the gift in person.
While it used to be nigh impossible to track Kakashi down, over the years Madara had learnt of every nook and cranny Kakashi liked to hide in. It was astonishing to learn just how many secret places Kakashi had found to disappear to in the newly formed Konoha. It was as if Kakashi had lived there all his life, and had years to find the most beautiful or most private places (oftentimes, both) to relax. Madara attributed this to Kakashi’s excellent tracking abilities—another talent added to a never-ending list of things Madara loved about him.
Though there were many places Kakashi liked to hide, Madara had learnt not just of their locations, but where Kakashi liked to go during various times of day, or in different moods. Madara was proud to boast that he was the best at finding Kakashi—well, if you excluded Tobirama and his chakra sensing ability. Or the Inuzuka, when Kakashi wasn’t suppressing his scent. Or—
That wasn’t the point.
The point was that Madara very quickly found Kakashi sitting in his favourite morning spot; up on the mountain cradling the rear of the village, next to the Hokage Monument.
Strangely, Kakashi always sat on a space about two and a half giant heads to the right of Hashirama’s stone face. There was a small nook roughly parallel with the bottom of Hashirama’s stone mouth that Kakashi could often be found reading in. It was only big enough for one adult male and maybe a child to fit in. But Kakashi was thin despite his height and Madara—though not one for cuddling—didn’t mind sharing his space if it was with Kakashi.
While usually Madara would make his way down to that nook and crowd Kakashi (not that Kakashi ever complained—seriously, anyways) today he was hesitant. There would be no pretenses to hide behind, just a simple gift and the proclamation of love. While that shouldn’t be such a big deal, Madara couldn’t help but worry that he would mess things up and ruin what should be a joyful day.
Madara stood above Kakashi’s nook, frozen in an uncertainty he only ever felt concerning Kakashi. He knew that Kakashi knew he was here; while Kakashi wasn’t a chakra sensor, Madara was often surprised by just strong Kakashi’s sense of smell was. Which meant the longer he waited, the more he would seem like a fool. It was that thought which got Madara moving.
When he did climb down, however, he was surprised to see that Kakashi was not there. In his place, however, was a square box covered in a two-toned silk cloth—the outside being grey with red swirls, while the inside was the inverse. Madara found himself blushing at the implications of the red and black wrapping. While Madara had gone neutral by wrapping his gift in his clan colours, Kakashi’s sent a very deliberate message—I want you.
Madara sat down in the crevice slowly before reaching down to pick up the gift with both hands. He let the gift rest in his lap, then carefully undid the knot which kept the wrapping together. As the fabric slipped away, he was met with a simple, brown dessert box. He lifted the lid and was greeted by the sight of…
“Sushi?”
There were nine maki rolls in a three by three grid. Only instead of fish, each was filled with fruit and chocolate. Carefully lifting one roll from the box, Madara noticed that seaweed which would usually encircle the rolls was chocolate, with a dusting of coco powder on the outside, presumably to stop them from sticking to each other. When he popped the maki roll in his mouth, Madara hummed his appreciation, enjoying how the bitterness of the dark chocolate paired with the sweetness of the fruit—a mango, in this case—and how the sweetened rice melded everything together.
Kakashi was one hell of a chef.
But more than the deliciousness of the gift, Madara was flattered by the effort. Kakashi knew inarizushi was his favourite food, and was touched that Kakashi would base his gift off of that information. Madara took a moment to enjoy another two before closing the box, carefully folding the silk and putting it away in his hip pouch.
“Kakashi, I know you’re there,” Madara spoke to the ether, willing his lover to appear so that he could thank Kakashi properly.
There was only silence.
“Kakashi?” Madara tried again. Kakashi enjoyed teasing, and Madara wouldn’t put it past him to be hiding somewhere, watching everything and waiting until Madara was fuming to come down. Kakashi did so enjoy riling Madara up.
“You’re going to make me chase you around all day, aren’t you?”
Little did Madara know, somewhere above him a Kakashi-bunshin smirked before dispelling himself.
It was going to be a long day.
It had been such an impossibly long day.
Kakashi was nowhere to be found, although he was leaving a suspicious trail of chocolates in his wake. Not only were there more of the chocolate maki rolls in all of Kakashi’s favourite hiding places, everyone who had seen Kakashi that day was gifted with a small box of chocolates themselves—though the number of people who had seen him was small.
It seemed that Kakashi had first stopped by Tatsumi’s clinic. He had gone there under the pretense of picking up his own Valentine’s gift. Tatsumi had given him a chocolate Sharingan to ‘complete the set,’ she explained, laughing at her own joke a little too hard and a little too long—even in her retelling of the events. When he shunshin-ed away (since he could not leave like a normal person), a small box of chocolates was left in his wake, with a card reading “I had extra.”
When Madara asked about his own gift, Tatsumi claimed that helping him make Kakashi’s gift was her present to Madara. He couldn’t argue with that, though he was disappointed she didn’t save any of the chocolates she was making with Michika for him. They had smelled delicious, and there were a lot.
How many homemade chocolates did one little girl need? Madara made a note to look into his niece’s possible love life. She might be in her teens, but she was too young to date. Madara would make sure to enforce that.
As it turned out, Kakashi’s next stop was to see Izuna. Kakashi’s excuse was that he had heard Izuna was in poor spirits. Izuna of course denied this, and they ended up in a bit of a scuffle. The fight ended quickly, although not without one casualty; Tajima’s favourite mug was broken. Kakashi had disappeared before the mug could hit him, leaving another box of chocolates behind. This too had a note, reading “In case you don’t get any.”
While Madara had assumed the note would have left Izuna in a rotten mood the rest of the day, he was surprisingly chipper when Madara stopped by. Izuna was carefully gluing the mug back together, occasionally sending an adoring glance and a dopey grin to a box of chocolate truffles on the counter, which Izuna absolutely refused to let Madara touch. In fact, Izuna became positively beastly when Madara even got close to the gift. Not wanting to ruin his brother’s good mood, Madara decided to leave swiftly.
Madara was quickly becoming frustrated. He didn’t want to admit it, but he needed help. There was one person in the village who could find Kakashi in an instant, but Madara was not yet desperate enough for that measure. Still, his only other option was Hashirama, and, well, Hashirama was loud. It was sure to be a… vocal Valentine’s Day for the Hokage, and Madara, quite frankly, was not eager to risk it. Still, Tobirama had tried to kill him that morning, and Madara had a suspicion that Tobirama’s day was not liable to improve.
So Madara had gone to see Hashirama.
Hashirama was in the Hokage’s office (thank the Sage) alone (thank all the gods) and stuck under a pile of chocolates. Hashirama’s smile was ever wider than usual. A new person had been stopping by his office every few minutes to deliver him another gift of chocolates, and he was ecstatic.
“You do realise you will need to buy them all gifts on White Day, and therefore will need to remember all their names,” Madara reminded when he saw the pile of empty chocolate boxes carelessly thrown in the direction of the small garbage (it was already overfilled). The reminder sent Hashirama into one of his depressive fits, prompting a very reluctant, irate, and somewhat flustered Madara to help him make a list of who sent what.
Madara insisted Hashirama be the one to dig through the trash, however, volunteering himself to be the one to jot down the names and the item.
“Did you get anything for Valentine’s Day?” Hashirama asked, tone a little too casual. Hashirama was horrible at subtly.
“No one has given me any gifts.” Madara’s words weren’t true in the spirit of honesty, but they were not a lie. Kakashi hadn’t technically given Madara the gifts, despite putting them in places Madara would find them.
Hashirama opened his mouth to say something, but held himself back.
They sat in silence for a moment, Madara’s eyes scanning the various gift boxes to see if he could spot one similar to the boxes Kakashi had gifted Izuna and Tatsumi. He noticed the familiar packaging near the bottom of Hashirama’s trash bin, meaning either Kakashi had gotten to the office first, or Hashirama had chosen to eat Kakashi’s gift right away.
Finally, Madara gathered the courage to ask the question he had come to Hashirama for.
“Have you seen Kakashi today?” Madara affected complete, detached nonchalant. He was not blushing, not at all. His friends and close family knew of his relationship with Kakashi, and even if they didn’t, it was completely ordinary for a friend to ask about a friend. On any other day, it would sound like any other offhand question. Today, on a day meant for romance, however, it sounded anything but.
Hashirama leaned forward, a comical leer on his face. “Did you make him any chocolates?”
Madara turned as red as his Sharingan. “I—wha—you—nuh—” Madara sputtered. “I’m not allowed near a stove, how would I make him any chocolates?”
“Hmm… there weren’t any reports of exploding kitchens today or yesterday…”
“THAT WAS ONE TIME!”
Hashirama raised his eyebrows.
“Okay it was three times, but I do remember you being there for the third one, so that wasn’t just my fault.”
“I was trying to teach you how to use the stove! You’re the one who used the Katon jutsu that made it explode in the first place!”
“You said it was just like cooking over a fire!”
“Yes, cooking over a fire, not that it was the same as lighting one!”
“You’re a terrible teacher, for not making that clear!”
Thankfully, the door opened and their argument was interrupted before Hashirama could start moping again.
“Mito, my love!” Hashirama rushed up from the floor to embrace his wife, picking her up and spinning them both in a circle. She smiled fondly at him and his antics. “Are you here to give me another present?”
“You’re so greedy,” Madara murmured to himself, though by the half-smile Mito shot in his direction, he was sure she heard. Hashirama remained oblivious.
“I actually came here to see Madara,” Mito said, motioning for Hashirama to put her down, ignoring his pout when she stepped out of his arms. She pulled a small box from the sleeve of her white kimono. It was wrapped in a plain pink cloth, and she offered it to him with two hands, a smile, and a soft “Happy Valentine’s Day, Madara.”
Madara returned the smile with a small nod of acknowledgement, taking the gift in both hands before putting it away in his hip pouch to open later.
“I’m surprised to see you without Kakashi today,” Mito said, her voice managing to convey the authentic nonchalance which Hashirama had a problem with. Still, considering the day and the gift she had just given Madara, the effect was lost.
“He’s looking for him!” Hashirama piped in before Madara could offer a more aloof response, one which would not end with his ears turning red.
“Oh? I just saw him, with Tobirama.”
“With Tobirama?” Madara did not even try to hide the sneer at the name. “How can anyone stand to be near him?”
“Now Madara, that’s not fair. I really wish you two would try to get along,” Hashirama said.
Madara huffed, crossing his arms. “I saw him this morning, and he’s somehow grumpier than his usual unpleasant self. I was being perfectly courteous, and he tried to kill me. I’d wager even you avoided him yesterday. And it’s all thanks to your insistence on participating in this ridiculous holiday.”
Hashirama looked sheepish. “I thought it would help…”
“Tobirama seemed perfectly content when I saw him,” Mito said.
“What?”
“Really?”
“In fact, I might even go so far as to say he was chipper,” she continued.
“What.” Madara didn’t even try to make it sound like a question this time.
“Yes! I knew it would work!” Hashirama said as he jumped and pumped his fist in victory.
Madara—accustomed to Hashirama’s antics—crossed his arms and shook his head in the negative. “That’s impossible.”
“What? Tobi can be happy!” Hashirama insisted with a pout.
“While I do maintain my stance that Tobirama is an automaton who can only experience a limited range of emotion—”
“Madara!”
“I just saw Izuna, who was—oh no.”
“Oh no what?” Hashirama looked positively bewildered, but Mito seemed to catch on quickly.
“Oh no,” Mito echoed.
“Oh no what?” Hashirama repeated, and then it clicked. “Oh no, no no no!”
Mito and Madara nodded solemnly.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen!”
“I told you this civilian holiday was a bad idea.”
“But-but love and chocolates and love!” Hashirama’s head sunk under the weight of his sadness.
Mito shook her head in exasperation, putting a soothing hand on her husband’s bicep.
“You can’t fix everything, Hashi.”
Hashirama turned and swept his wife into his arms, holding her to his chest like one would a teddy bear. His head rested on her shoulder, and she very patiently pet his hair. She locked eyes with Madara and motioned with a quick jerk of her head that he should leave. Madara—who very much wanted to get away from the emotional Hashirama—wasted no time in disappearing.
While Madara was reluctant to go visit Tobirama—more so after the alarming news—if that’s where Kakashi was, that’s where Madara would go.
There was only one place Tobirama would be found at this time of day, and that was in his office at the Senju clan compound. Tobirama had several offices, just as he had several labs, each with its own specific purpose. Madara didn’t understand why Tobirama just didn’t do all his work in the same place; while Madara did have a home office for more personal matters, his office at the Hokage Tower was more than enough to complete his various responsibilities. Tobirama, on the other hand, moved from office to office throughout the day, occasionally disappearing into one of his labs or the training field.
When Madara arrived at Tobirama’s office, he was dismayed to see just how smug Tobirama appeared. There was even a little smirk curling the corners of his lips. There was a box of chocolate truffles proudly displayed in the middle of his desk, though they were very obviously not for guest consumption if the glare Tobirama served Madara when he looked at them was any indication. There was a second, smaller box of chocolates on Tobirama’s desk as well, the same size and shape as the ones Kakashi had been leaving in his wake.
Tobirama’s smirk widened when he caught Madara looking at that box.
“Kakashi isn’t here.” Tobirama’s deep voice was almost teasing, though his words were certainly intended to be mocking. Tobirama would only sound like that if he were in a really good mood.
Madara heaved a sigh, palming his face in his hand. While he was wary as to the cause of Tobirama’s levity, he was also somewhat grateful; Tobirama would hopefully be more cooperative.
“I can see that.” Madara could not let the subtle taunt go without a touch of his own. “Would you happen to know where he went?”
Tobirama leaned back in his chair, looking even smugger than he had before.
Perhaps this was a bad idea?
There was a tense silence while Tobirama seemed to appraise Madara’s request. The only sound in the room was the repetitive drumming of Tobirama’s fingers on his desk. Then Tobirama closed his eyes, and Madara felt the hairs on his arms stand on edge.
“He’s by the Hokage Monument,” Tobirama answered simply, and then returned to his paperwork.
To say Madara was surprised would be an understatement. Not that Kakashi had returned to the Hokage Monument—that sounded exactly like something that troll would pull—but that Tobirama had answered without a fuss.
This Tobirama was a strange creature. Madara was not looking forward to the eventual blowout.
Up in his favourite nook, roughly two giant stone heads to the right of Hashirama’s face and just about parallel with Hashirama’s mouth, Kakashi reclined comfortably, reading Icha Icha. He felt Tobirama’s chakra touch his—something Kakashi was only capable of noticing from how familiar he was with Tobirama’s chakra and the frequency with which Tobirama used this technique to identify him—which was the signal that Madara would be stopping by shortly. Kakashi briefly wondered if he should disappear and make Madara chase him around a little more—it was one of Kakashi’s favourite pass times—but Kakashi was excited to see his lover.
Today was such a change from who Kakashi was before he ended up in the past, and he revelled in it. If Gai could see Kakashi now, he would be sobbing and making long-winded speeches about the Springtime of Youth and the Lotus of Love Blooming once more, even after Enduring the Harshest of Winters.
For once, the thought of his past didn’t drive Kakashi to melancholy. While he did miss his friends and comrades—and Kakashi would have been the most surprised if someone were to tell him he would one day miss his Eternal Rival, of all people—Kakashi knew instinctively that they would be happy for his happiness.
Kakashi hoped that the changes he made in the past would shape a better future, one where children weren’t sent to fight wars and his friends all survived to live long, happy lives. Though the semantics were confusing—if he changed to future too much, would he even be born? If the future was different, would he even be sent to the past to propagate such a change?—Kakashi tried not to think too much about such things. Tobirama might lose sleep over the mechanics, but Kakashi had to stop thinking about it in order to actually live.
And Kakashi was so terribly reluctant to leave the life he was now living. For years he had felt as if he were only going through the motions, that his life meant nothing compared to his duty to the village he loved. Ironically, it was through being a part of the group who founded his village that Kakashi learnt how important life was. The village was formed to save lives, to protect children and each other—whether from enemy blades, or less sinister things, like famine and pestilence. Kakashi had learnt that his job as a Konoha shinobi was not to die for his village, but to live for it, for his friends and his family, and even the strangers who walked the streets had sworn to protect.
Today had really emphasized to Kakashi just how many people he now had in his life whom he loved, and who loved him back. While one could argue that it was important to show your love for others everyday—and it was, Kakashi had learnt—having a day where the focus was expressing that love warmed his heart in a way had not expected, nor had he ever experienced before.
While it was still hard for him to openly express his feelings—if he had to physically hand his gifts to anyone he might have melted from embarrassment—Kakashi had felt that, at least for once, he should try. He didn’t think his gratefulness to his new family could ever properly be expressed, and even if it were possible, he didn’t think he could possibly express it. But he had enjoyed trying, even as embarrassed as it made him.
Kakashi both dreaded and anticipated Madara’s arrival in equal parts. Though he did want to spend some time with Madara—it was rare that they were both allowed to escape their responsibilities for so long, even if they had only really skipped out on their morning—he was also terribly embarrassed at having shown his affection in such an obvious way. He felt a bit like the protagonist in an Icha Icha novel, which meant his afternoon would be ending with sweet kisses and sweaty skin and—
“YOU!” Madara bellowed as soon as he exited his shunshin. His finger was pointing accusingly at Kakashi from above, where Madara was using his chakra to stick himself to the mountain’s surface.
Before Kakashi could even think to reply, Madara dropped from his perch, twisting himself in the air so that he landed on Kakashi’s lap. Icha Icha fell from his hand at the contact, but Madara was kind enough to grab his lover’s favourite piece of ‘literature’ and pocket it in his hip pouch.
Kakashi, ever hip and too cool, pointed a finger at himself, offering a casual, “Me?”
Madara’s eyes narrowed. In one smooth motion, Madara pulled Kakashi’s mask down and slotted their lips together in an angry kiss. Kakashi was frozen for a moment, before he pushed into the kiss, matching Madara’s fervor. Madara’s hands—one at the nape of Kakashi’s neck while the other rested on his cheek—pushed and pulled Kakashi’s face just the way he wanted him as they continued to kiss. Kakashi’s own hands pulled at Madara’s hair and snuck under his clothes, eager to feel his lover’s skin.
Madara broke the kiss, grabbing Kakashi’s hands and pinning them on either side of his head. Though Madara knew Kakashi knew hundreds of different ways of escaping, the fact that Kakashi was letting him hold him down was always arousing. Both men were breathing heavily, Madara’s hair falling over his shoulders and shielding them both from the midday sun. Kakashi could not stop the self-satisfied smile that stretched across his face at seeing just how riled up he managed to make Madara with just a few chocolates.
“Oh, did you want something?”
This time Kakashi was ready for Madara’s kiss, already leaning forward despite his arms being restrained. Kakashi enjoyed the frantic pace Madara set, as if he could not get enough fast enough. When Kakashi pulled back to break the kiss, Madara followed, chasing Kakashi’s lips until his head was pressed back against the stone.
Kakashi very deliberately pressed his hips up into Madara’s, causing Madara to stutter. He took the opportunity to dominate the kiss, sneaking one hand from its captivity to cradle Madara’s cheek.
“You. Bastard,” Madara murmured between kisses. “Making me. Chase you. All. Damn. Day.” Madara grabbed Kakashi’s free hand once more, returning it to the wall before leaning back just enough to look at Kakashi’s smiling face.
“That was your choice—”
Madara cut Kakashi off with another kiss.
“—to waste your time—“
And another kiss.
“—looking for—”
And another.
“me.”
Though Madara was glaring down at his troll of a lover, he felt his heart warm at seeing Kakashi so carefree and happy.
“If I let you go, will you try to leave?” Madara had to ask. Kakashi had disappeared on him too many times to count. While that number decreased after they got together, Madara had learnt that it was a game Kakashi liked to play. It was equal parts endearing and aggravating.
“Hmm,” Kakashi pretended to think, “I like where I am right now, thanks.”
Madara’s glare morphed into a soft smile in the face of Kakashi’s purposely aloof answer, seeing it for the declaration it really was. Kakashi’s expression mirrored Madara’s unconsciously.
Madara dipped down for another kiss, this one slower and softer, before pulling back, sitting upright on Kakashi’s lap. Kakashi stared up at him in confusion as Madara reached into his hip pouch for something. Kakashi’s gaze zeroed in on the circular box covered in red silk patterned with Uchiha fans Madara was holding in front of him with both hands.
When Kakashi looked up to Madara’s face, he noticed a faint pink blush staining Madara’s cheeks. The longer Kakashi sat there just staring, the redder Madara seemed to get. It was only when Madara’s embarrassment began to bleed into anger (as it always did) that Kakashi deigned to speak.
“That’s a nice box.”
By the tick in Madara’s forehead, Kakashi was sure Madara was about to start yelling. Kakashi let his amusement squash down the memories of the last time his genin team was all together and a nervous Rin handed him a present. He took the gift in both hands and felt more than saw how Madara first sagged in relief and then stiffened from nervousness—not that Madara would ever admit to either.
The knot holding the fabric together was easy enough to untie. Kakashi let the cloth fall to his lap, then lifted the lid off the plain box. Inside was a pile of oddly shaped chocolates.
“They’re chocolate covered almonds,” Madara rushed to say. “It’s dark chocolate, and there’s only a thin layer of chocolate over the almonds. They’re not very sweet, honestly they practically taste like plain almonds, you almost don’t even notice the chocolate—”
This time it was Kakashi’s turn to silence Madara with a kiss. Where Madara’s kisses had been forceful and demanding, Kakashi’s kiss was soft and slow. Each press of their lips, each swipe of their tongues felt like an instant and an eternity all at once. Madara sunk into the kiss, his hands reaching up to cradle Kakashi’s face and stroke his cheeks. He pressed Kakashi back into the stone of the mountain, being mindful of the gift which prevented him from lying flush against Kakashi’s chest.
While both felt lust stirring in their guts, there was something intimate and heartwarming in their kisses that stopped either from moving to escalate their embrace. After chasing Kakashi around the village all morning, Madara was just happy to have Kakashi in his arms. It was a relief to feel Kakashi’s skin against his hands, or Kakashi’s breath exhaled against his cheeks. Madara enjoyed the taste of Kakashi’s lips, taking the time to slowly and completely explore every crevice of his mouth. Madara wanted to float in this moment forever.
They would get about five beautiful minutes by themselves before the holiday would blow up in everyone’s faces.
AN:Soooo, don't hate me, but there was some accidental smut going down that I had to cut out. I call it 'accidental' because I wanted this to be fluffy, and then Madara started taking of Kakashi's clothes. If it weren't already so late on the 14th I'd have probably written it out, but I am so ready to be done with this that it's getting scrapped. If I can manage to post another piece (Shisui/Sakura for those who are curious) by the end of the week, I'll work on finishing up that smut and post it. I hope you enjoyed this randomness. Please let me know what you think!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/?
Fandom: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
It is 1848, it is Opera and Yuuri Katsuki has just arrived from his former home Milan in Dresden to work as a chorus singer at the Semperoper. Starting over in a new country, surrounded by strangers is taxing, especially when the lead tenor is acting so contractionary towards you and when your own anxiety constantly has you on your toes.
Still, Yuuri is determined to make it here. Coached and taught by a very eccentric man who lives under the opera house Yuuri reaches new heights of skill and fame - but how long can this last in the face of the impending revolution? And why had his teacher Viktor left the stage in the first place and gone into hiding?
ratet mal, wer ab 30.Mai offiziell als ordentlich veröffentlich gelten kann! (@thegrimshapeofyoursmile: shhhhh.)
Der österreichische Verlag ohneohren veröffentlicht an exakt diesem Tag seine Anthologie “Der Dampfkochtopf”, ein steampunkiges, literarisches Kochbuch voller spannender, witziger Geschichten und ziemlich leckeren Rezepten und...
Ich hab es allen Ernstes geschafft, mit einem Getränk da drin zu landen. Und einer Geistergeschichte, aber interessanter ist für mich der Umstand, dass ich es mit Glühwein reingeschafft habe. (ich denke mal, dazu kommt nachher ein Post zu in meinem Schreiben-Side-Blog.)
Mich findet man als Manja Siber mit meiner Geschichte “Sylvesterwein” in der Dessert-Ecke und...
das hier ist das Cover der E-Book-Variante, die euch 4,99€ kosten soll (die Druckversion wird bei 14,99€ laufen - und glaubt mir, ein Kochbuch will man im Schrank stehen haben, wenn man damit kochen will):
Nähere Infos, Leseproben, Kaufmöglichkeiten und noch mehr Lesekram gibt es hier http://www.ohneohren.com/#!oodampf/c22cg
