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voxpophatake · 2 years ago

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oh my god I'm crying, @majesticflyingwalrus and @lemony-snickers thank you so so so much 💜 this was so lovely & I'm about two seconds away from printing it out and taping it to my refrigerator

@voxpophatake - ficti-gram for you!

to: @voxpophatake from: @majesticflyingwalrus message: I would just like to thank her for all her hard work writing a fic that I absolutely adore and always look forward to reading. And for all of the lovely, nice things she has said to me. ✧(˶╹̆ ▿╹̆˵)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ characters/pairing: kakashi hatake/fem!reader word count: 2,950 prompt: toasted marshmallows

Walking blind certainly has its disadvantages. For one, you keep tripping over roots, stumbling like a drunkard as you work to regain your balance on uneven ground you can’t see. For another, your guide seems rather unworried about protecting your face from leaves and small branches, which keep flicking your nose and glancing across the exposed parts of your forehead.

“Kakashi,” you grumble, spitting a leaf from the place where it’s plastered itself against your mouth, “where are we going?”

He just squeezes your shoulders, steering you slightly to the left with a little too much force, chuckling when you yelp and nearly lose your balance. “You’ll see soon, I promise.”

When Kakashi arrived at your door earlier in the evening, you expected his plan was to stay in for the night, as usual. He’s never been a particularly gregarious companion, and generally prefers the privacy of one of your homes to the bustle of Konoha’s nightlife. You’ve been on dates, of course, but usually at off times, ensuring whatever restaurant you’re eating in has as few customers as possible.

“Actually,” he said when you asked what he wanted to make for dinner, “I thought we could go out.”

A smile split its way unabashedly across your face—delight and surprise kindling in your belly as it widened. “Really?” you asked, thinking it best to provide him an opportunity to walk back his offer, stay in if that’s what he truly wanted. “I don’t mind cooking if you’d rather stay here.”

Kakashi’s smile rivaled yours, even beneath the taut fabric of his mask. “I’m sure,” he said.

You should have known better than to trust that smile, especially when you stepped outside and Kakashi plucked your forehead protector off so he could tie it over your eyes instead.

“What are you doing?” you asked, stiffening at the sudden loss of one of your senses.

Kakashi’s breath was warm as it fanned over your cheek, tickling the ridges of your ear as he whispered, “Do you trust me?”

The question traced a shiver down your spine in its wake—the closeness of his mouth, the slight teasing lilt in his voice like the caress of his calloused fingers against your skin. “Of course I do,” you said without hesitation before adding, “Completely.”

“Then let’s go.”

He steered you through the village, your skin warm from embarrassment every time you heard another pair of feet against the gravel, wondering what they must think of you traipsing through the village blindfolded, the Copy Ninja of Konoha’s gloved hands upon your shoulders.

Eventually, the gravel of the village streets gave way to the softer grass of the training fields, and then the uneven ground of the surrounding forests. All the while, Kakashi chatted idly, filling you in on some of the details of his latest mission, asking about yours. With every smack of a branch or tweak of your ankle, though, your patience wavered.

Now, as you snag your foot on yet another gnarled root and pitch forward, you growl. “Kakashi, it’s not that I don’t admire your penchant for drama and mystique, but are we getting close, at least?”

His fingers tighten on your shoulders only a little and you worry you might have offended him with your brusque inquiry. You’re tired of being blind, though, tired of faltering around like a toddler learning to stumble across a living room. You and Kakashi enjoy precious few evenings together—between your packed slate of missions and all Kakashi’s duties not only as a sensei but one of Konoha’s most effective and efficient shinobi, there aren’t many days you get to sleep side by side, never mind actually spend quality time catching up with one another.

You squawk indignantly as Kakashi’s hands drift from your shoulders to your waist, where he clamps down and hoists you off the ground, slinging you unceremoniously over one shoulder like a particularly unruly sack of rice.

“What are you doing?!”

“You seem to be a little perturbed about having to walk blindly through the underbrush, so I figured I would help you out,” he says, “Now mind your head.”

You tuck your face against his shoulder blade as leaves rustle against your back. “This is so embarrassing,” you grumble.

“No one’s here to see it,” Kakashi promises, patting you reassuringly on the behind, which makes you wrinkle your nose in irritation, “and we’ll be there soon, I promise.”

Kakashi’s steps are much more sure-footed than yours, and you move swiftly through the forest. You amuse yourself by listening for any signs of where you might be. You’ve spent your life in Konoha, and plenty of hours meandering aimlessly through the woods surrounding the village. With your sight cut off, you think your other senses are more heightened—though it’s probably only a matter of perception. Still, you can hear the babbling of a brook somewhere to your left—Kakashi’s right—and there are owls overhead, cooing softly as the sun must be setting. You wonder if it’s as dark beyond your hitai-ate as it is behind it.

Just as you’re about to ask again where you’re going—perhaps a little less gratefully than you should—you lift yourself a bit, ears perking up at a new sound. You quickly drop your head back down against Kakashi’s shoulder after you whack it on a branch. Kakashi chuckles, patting your ass again as he reminds you to keep your head low for that exact reason.

You bite off a sarcastic reply, choosing instead to tilt your head toward the new sound. And there it is again, a soft crackling noise in the distance, growing closer. You take an experimental sniff and are met with the telltale scent of a fire—the warm cedar and embers you associate with camping on the road during long missions.

“Nearly there,” Kakashi says, and you swear you can hear the warmth in his voice, pride at having maintained the surprise and mystery bleeding into his words.

You still make a noise of surprise—though it’s a little more dignified this time, you think—when Kakashi swings you off his shoulder and sets you on your feet. You sway, regaining your balance as he settles his hands on your arms so he can position you correctly. “Just a moment,” he says, and you nod to let him know you won’t move. Then, you feel his hands travel to the back of your head to unknot your forehead protector and pull it away.

You blink several times, eyes adjusting to the new light as it floods your vision, and then you take in the scene.

Kakashi has taken you to a small clearing in the woods. At its center is the bonfire you could smell and hear as you approached. Around it, he’s scattered countless pillows and blankets, all of which look perfectly plush and cozy. Overhead, the sky is a lovely deep purple, the last rays of the fading sun reaching up over the branches of the tallest trees like they are trying to touch the burgeoning pinpricks of light as the stars wink into existence.

“Thought we could use a change of scenery,” Kakashi says softly.

He looks bashful when you turn to him, hands in his pockets and one foot toeing at the dirt like he isn’t sure you’re going to like it. Which is silly because of course you do—you love every moment you get to spend with him, even when he’s grumpy and sleep-deprived or one of you is on unwanted mandatory leave. You love his morning breath and bedhead and his prickly two-day stubble. And if you can love him before he brushes his teeth or when he lets the venom of a bad mission poison his words after he returns home because he’s too exhausted to filter it out, of course you’re going to love this. Kakashi is a textbook romantic at heart—one only need peruse his bookshelves once to figure that much out about the otherwise mysterious shinobi—and you’re sure he’s put his whole heart into this moment. A gesture which is not lost on you in the slightest.

A romantic evening beneath the twinkling night sky, just the two of you. Away from the business and noise of the village, from the pressure of your jobs, the social expectations that come with leaving your apartment and running into people you know when all you really wanted to do is be together. A brief little respite from everything but the stars and the trees and the soft sounds of night creatures as they circle the ring of light thrown by your fire.

Of course you love it. Almost as much as you love him.

Kakashi must have spent a lot of time preparing this spot; there’s a huge pile of firewood to ensure you don’t run out, a tamper-proof box which you assume holds your food for the evening, and a cozy tent already setup so you don’t have to make your way back home through the pitch dark trees again.

Your heart swells with gratitude and affection. You step close to Kakashi, twine both your arms around one of his like a vine, like you’re rooting him to you so he can never move too far away, beyond your reach. “I love it. Thank you.”

His relief is palpable as his muscles relax, head falling forward until his forehead rests against yours. He chuckles. “I know I probably shouldn’t have been nervous, but I can’t help it.”

You offer him a reassuring smile as you press a kiss to his clothed cheek. It doesn’t take long for Kakashi to pull the mask loose and kiss you for real—soft lips capturing yours and pouring all his love into your mouth. Kakashi’s kisses, even when they are rushed or rough at the edges with need, always carry with them an undercurrent of tenderness—affection like warm honey, sweet and golden.

You sway on your feet as his tongue slips past your lips and Kakashi steadies you once again, one strong arm tucking against the small of your back to hold you up and press you closer to him.

The kiss only breaks because you need to breathe; a devasting inconvenience if ever you’ve known one.

Kakashi traces your cheek with one finger, runs it along your jaw and then down your neck, tugging at the top of your shirt before he pulls away, the unspoken promise of later written in the crook of his lopsided grin. “Let’s eat,” he says, and your stomach gives a rumble of approval that makes you whine in embarrassment while Kakashi chuckles at your expense.

He soothes the sting with a soft peck between your brows, which flattens the wrinkle there, before he steps past you toward the fire.

You follow, rearranging some of the pillows Kakashi has laid out and settling comfortably against them as Kakashi unpacks the supplies he’s so carefully organized. You reach out to help and he swats you away, pressing a drink into your hand instead. You smile at his determination and watch as he prepares your meal, fish grilled over the open flames on a ladder of sticks he’s tied together with supple green stems that pop and sizzle against the heat. There’s a pot of rice buried in the coals and fresh fruit, which you pluck from the platter when he hands it to you, enjoying the fresh juices as they burst over your tongue.

You suppress a moan at a particularly sweet bite, pressing the back of your hand against your mouth. Kakashi smiles at you, his happiness warming you through far better than even the well-stoked campfire.

Your dinner is simple, but delicious; seasoned with sea salt and a few dry herbs but not much else. You lean your shoulder against Kakashi’s as the two of you eat in comfortable silence, enjoying the flickering of the flames and Kakashi’s body so close to you. He shucked his vest and gloves when he started cooking, eventually abandoning his overshirt as well when a sheen of sweat appeared on his brow. Now he’s next to you in just his undershirt, and you admire the way the fire casts alluring shadows over his exposed throat, his bare shoulders and arms.

He must notice you admiring his physique because he jostles you with his elbow. “It’s impolite to stare.”

You hum, “Some might say it’s impolite to blindfold your date and let her get smacked in the face by tree branches, too, so I think we can call it even.”

He smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners, and you lean up to kiss his cheek.

When you finish your meal, you join Kakashi in shedding your sandals and kunai pouch, stripping down to only the most comfortable parts of your uniform. “I packed us an overnight bag,” Kakashi says, “so you’ll have comfortable clothes to sleep in.”

“And a toothbrush?” you ask.

He nods. “And a toothbrush.”

Not that it matters, really. No number of missing toiletries or creature comforts could take away from this evening. You snuggle into Kakashi’s side, inhaling his familiar scent as it mingles with the smell of the fire, content and sated and deliriously happy.

It’s not until Kakashi shifts beneath you that you realize your eyelids have gotten heavy. You flutter them open, determined to stay awake as long as possible, to enjoy every moment with Kakashi you can pluck from the intervening hours before the sun rises again and you are both forced to return to your village and your duties there.

“I brought dessert,” he says, running his fingers up and down your arm lazily, occasionally tracing twisting, swooping patterns against your skin.

You tilt your chin so you can meet his gaze. “You don’t like sweets.”

He smiles, and the expression is full and true in a way that makes your soul sing. “But you do,” he whispers, kissing the tip of your nose as he untangles himself—despite your somewhat feeble protests—to pull something else from his lockbox of supplies.

You throw your head back and laugh when he shows you what he’s brought—a bag of jumbo marshmallows, perfect for toasting over an open fire.

He leaves you to replenish the wood so the flames leap a little higher, a little brighter, as he wanders through the clearing in search of a good roasting stick. He returns with two, briefly using a kunai to sharpen one end of each before sliding a marshmallow onto both and handing you one.

You arch a curious eyebrow. “You’re making one, too?”

He shrugs, lifting one arm to coax you back into place against his side as you both dip your marshmallows carefully into the flames.

“A backup,” he says, “in case you burn yours.”

You thwack his stomach with the back of your free hand. “As if I’m not a master of toasting marshmallows,” you say, “How dare you?”

He shakes his head, silver hair falling into his eyes until you push it away. “My mistake.” He opens both for just a moment, bathing you in the gentle red glow of his sharingan as the tomoe spin lazily, his other dark pupil sparkling with amusement and adoration.

You’re all but hypnotized, marshmallows and fire and the whole world forgotten until—

“Damn it!”

The greedy flames engulf your marshmallow and you scramble to pull it from the fire, ignoring Kakashi’s soft chuckle as you bring the blazing end of the stick close to your mouth so you can blow out the tiny inferno. You pout, turning to glare at Kakashi as he pulls his own stick from the fire, admiring aloud the perfectly golden color of his toasted treat.

You frown at the black charcoal ball at the end of your stick, steeling yourself as you prepare to eat it out of sheer stubbornness and pride.

“Here,” you turn to find Kakashi holding out his marshmallow for you, smiling tenderly. You sigh, grateful but also a little annoyed he’s somehow better at this than you are as you set the charred remnants of your own marshmallow aside.

You’re about to reach out and pluck your dessert from Kakashi’s grasp when another, far more mischievous, idea takes hold instead.

You sit up on your knees, smirking in response to the way Kakashi tilts his head curiously in response. You say nothing, but lean forward and open your mouth, taking the marshmallow between your lips in one wide, sticky bite.

All the while, you keep your gaze locked with Kakashi’s, relishing the sharp hiss and stifled moan your actions elicit.

You take your time enjoying your dessert—though that’s mostly because you don’t have a choice, marshmallows are notoriously chewy, after all—and then grasp Kakashi’s wrist firmly so you can lick the remnants from his fingers, using your tongue and teeth to clean every last sticky bit from his skin.

You’ve hardly finished when Kakashi drags you in for another kiss—this one much rougher and more demanding than any of the others you’ve shared this evening. You respond in kind easily, suddenly wide awake and eager to stay that way.

When he hoists you up again, throwing you over his shoulder for the second time since you left the village, you yell, though it morphs into a half-moan when Kakashi squeezes your thighs, fingers digging into your hamstrings.

“Now it’s time for my dessert,” he says.

Your shared laughter—and all the other sounds you make together—rise through the clearing toward the stars well through the evening, lingering long after the fire has burned down to embers.

#LOVE LOVE LOVE #I'm so sorry I never received a notification for this #TUMBLR WHY #anyway thank you thank you thank you

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