#bp shortfic

[butter--peanut]

fic snippet: Kakashi’s mental health and Obito’s stalkerish way of helping (642 words, angsty, t)

On Kakashi’s latest mission with ANBU, he’d killed dozens of nin — many younger than his own nineteen years — and one of his own teammates had been killed in the process.

Obito had watched the mission grimly, hidden in Kamui, and he continued to watch as Kakashi returned to Konoha, gave his mission report to the Sandaime, and then stood by the memorial stone until midnight, motionless but for the slight sway of his exhausted body in light wind.

When the moon ran high and all law-abiding Konohans had long ago crept to blissful slumber, dress rehearsals for the main show that Obito would bring to them, Kakashi returned like a dog to a kennel to the tiny corner of the Hatake estate that he slept in. There he promptly threw up in the sink. After expelling his stomach, he turned on the tap and washed the meagre remains of his ration bars down the drain, then kept the water running and started to scrub his hands. He scrubbed far longer than needed to wash the traces of vomit away. The water turned hot and steam started to rise from the sink, and Kakashi’s hands were turning red and raw from the scrubbing and the heat. His head hung over the sink. From his left eye saltwater dripped down, unnoticeable if not for Obito’s Sharingan.

“It won’t go away,” Kakashi said to himself.

He scrubbed futilely for a minute more, then gave up. He staggered to his futon and lay down and huddled over his blanket, and there he started to sob, fist pressed into his mouth to stifle any sound, body curved around himself in a ball like he was trying to give himself comfort.

It was good to watch this. It emphasised that everything was wrong in the world and everything that Obito was doing with his life was correct. Kakashi was a pathetic hero, crying out to be offered a pathway where he wouldn’t have to hurt other people. That would never be a path he could take. He was a Shinobi, he was a weapon, he was a friend killer.

It was good to watch this, but Obito couldn’t watch any longer.

He stepped through the Kamui portal, and Kakashi wasn’t so lost to the world that he didn’t notice. With only a fraction of a second of surprise, he threw himself up to standing, left hand gripping right wrist, Sharingan meeting Sharingan.

Kakashi’s eyes glazed, caught in Obito’s genjutsu.

His hands returned to rest by his side. His breath began to even out.

Obito sent his mask back to Kamui; it was no longer necessary. He stepped forward until he was standing in front of Kakashi, who was staring into the middle distance.

Obito took Kakashi’s hands in his own and brought them up to his lips. He kissed the fingers of Kakashi’s left hand, then his right. He could feel the abraded skin from the excessive scrubbing. Kakashi’s fingers trembled in his palm.

“C’mon,” Obito encouraged. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He pulled off the covers and helped Kakashi to lie down, on his side, facing away from Obito. Then Obito lay behind him, wrapping his arms around Kakashi’s waist. Kakashi was cold, but Obito had always run warm, and after several minutes by his side Obito could feel Kakashi’s body temperature start to rise.

“It’s going to be okay,” Obito murmured against Kakashi’s ear, Kakashi’s hair tickling his nose. “This won’t last forever, I promise you. One day, your friends will come back, all of them. Your family too. Believe me, Kakashi: you’re going to be at peace again. Believe me tonight, even if you forget tomorrow.”

Slowly, the shaking stilled. The tension along Kakashi’s spine began to ease. And, eventually, Kakashi slept.

Obito stayed by his side, making sure that there were no nightmares tonight.

#bp shortfic #extended from a scene in last act ch3 #this was originally meant to be one of the trope prompts but the mood didn't fit the prompt #I have many feels about obito trying to care for kks in his own fucked up way #kkob #kakaobi #obkk #obikaka

[butter--peanut]

I love your fics so much, ty for writing!! But I have a question: in Kamui Blues why did Obito send Kakashi a note in the first place? Surely he knew that their dimension is connected via their Mangekyo and if he let Kakashi know someone else could use it the only logical conclusion would be someone has Obito's eye. Wouldn't he, as a mass murderer who's given everything for his plan, have been worried that Kakashi would figure it out?

Let me answer this question in 3081 words, because I’ve been wanting an excuse to write Ch1 of Kamui Blues from Obito’s PoV :)

Going to count this as Kamui Blues prompt request #13 (previous requests), t rated for swears.

Obito lay on his back, dazed, concussed, covered in leaves and dust. To his left lay a tree. It had landed with a heavy thump on his head from above, then toppled to the side, just as Obito himself had toppled backwards, momentarily blacking out from the force of impact.

He hadn’t seen it in time.

One might think that a tree-sized object would be a bit noticeable, but on the other hand, this had never happened to him before. Not in the fifteen plus years that Obito had been inhabiting this place formed by his eye. Random shit didn’t just show up in his dimension without him bringing it there in the first place.

As his hardworking Zetsu cells went into overdrive and the concussion began to ease, Obito tried to think through how this ridiculously improbable event could have happened.

Had he subconsciously brought the tree here?

Surely not. When the tree swirled through, he’d been thinking about the dream he wanted his future world to become. There were no trees that played a particularly prominent role in his dream. Just Rin and Kakashi, and the conundrum that Obito had to work through to make sure that his dream was realistic enough to be believable…

And there was no way for anyone else to access this space. This dimension was formed by his Mangekyo Sharingan, so could only be accessed via Mangekyo.

Although...

Well. There was, technically, one other person who had access to it.

Had Kakashi, after fifteen years, discovered his Mangekyo Sharingan?

He searched for Kakashi, wanting to see if his prediction was correct, and after growing steadily more annoyed at being unable to find him in his regular spots around Konoha, Obito eventually located him on a stretcher, being carried to the hospital, his pink-haired student walking beside his unconscious body looking concerned.

Chakra exhaustion, he heard Sakura say to one of the other accompanying medi-nins, watching through a sliver of a gap between his dimension and the Earth.

Chakra exhaustion.

Obito snorted, closing the portal.

It seemed Kakashi had, indeed, learnt that he had access to Mangekyo. And because he had laughable chakra reserves, the attempt to use it had caused him to pass out like a fresh pre-genin moulding chakra for the first time. What a weakling. Hardly the prodigy he used to be.

Well, that at least cleared one thing up. If this was what happened when Kakashi tried to use Mangekyo, his old teammate was hardly likely to try again. Obito once more had his dimension to himself.

Which was a good thing. He didn’t need the worthless version of Kakashi interrupting him while he spent his few hours of downtime trying to plan for the reunion with Rin and the non-worthless version of Kakashi.

Obito sat back down against the block, and closed his eye, and tried to continue his mental exercise.

Somehow, he couldn’t seem to stop opening his eye and glaring at the tree. Even half-dead and lying in the hospital bed, Kakashi was an annoyance.

Obito touched the tree and sent it far, far away, to some desolate rocky outcrop he remembered from the Land of Iron.

There. No more distraction.

He settled down again in his usual spot. Without the tree, his dimension felt oddly larger than normal. More cavernous, more empty.

-----

One month later, an acorn landed on Obito’s head.

Obito picked the tiny acorn off the floor and stared at it as though it held all the roots of this meaningless existence. Then he went again to find Kakashi.

He started from the location where he had found him on a stretcher last time and followed the lone path past patchy forest to just beyond the edge of Konoha. There he found Kakashi lying on his back in a training ground. His hitai-ate was up, but his Sharingan eye was shut tight. His other eye was open, staring up at the sky. He was very pale and breathing heavily.

After several minutes, Kakashi pushed himself up from the ground with shaking limbs and stumbled back in the direction of his apartment.

He’d tried to use Mangekyo again. He’d succeeded. And this time, he looked capable of making his way home in a fashion that wasn’t via the hospital on a stretcher.

Obito followed him to make sure, and yes. Kakashi reached his apartment building without collapsing. Kakashi looked up to his window, as though considering jumping up there, then shook his head at himself and used the front door.

Obito had underestimated him. Despite almost dying, Kakashi hadn’t given up. He’d persisted, and he’d improved his control of the jutsu.

Obito hated him and his stupid skill and perseverance so fucking much.

Would he try again? Now that he could also surely notice his improvement?

Obito had a bad feeling about this.

-----

A month and a half later, when Obito had just about given up on Kakashi trying to use the pinwheels of his Sharingan once more, he returned from Amegakure to find the ruins of a training ground waiting for him.

“Kakashi,” he said, appalled, staring at the upturned targets, the wooden logs used to construct obstacle courses, stray kunai, a handful of trees and shrubs, tape used to mark off the area. Chaos and carnage in his dimension.

How the ever-loving, ever-fucking Sage had Kakashi used his meagre resources to transport all this garbage?

He swirled to the training ground. Kakashi was there, on his knees. He did look exhausted, but mostly he just looked embarrassed.

There was nothing in front of him or behind him. The training field was empty. He’d literally sent Obito the whole training ground with his jutsu.

It made no sense. There was no way Kakashi could have had the reserves to touch each object and send it away.

Unless…

Unless his eye accessed the dimension differently than Obito’s. That did happen often with Mangekyo, one eye different from the other. Maybe Kakashi could send groups of objects at once. Maybe he didn’t need to touch them.

Whatever the reason, now that this had happened a third time, Obito knew it was going to happen again, and again, and again. The bastard was dogged in his persistence when an idea truly struck.

Obito stood back in his dimension, crossed his arms to assess the crap in front of him.

It was obvious that Kakashi was gaining greater control over the jutsu.

Which was fine, theoretically.

There were many valid reasons for Obito to hate Kakashi, but using the eye which Obito had given to him wasn’t one of them. Giving Kakashi his eye had been Obito’s last action in a world that he didn’t feel was worthless, and his final intention still meant something to him. He had wanted Kakashi to use the Sharingan: to develop himself, to see the world with his eyes, and to protect Rin after Obito had gone.

Ah. And now to one of the many valid reasons to hate Kakashi.

In any case, Kakashi improving his control of the Sharingan wasn’t a problem in itself. And with his chakra reserves as they were, Kakashi would surely never develop true skill over this jutsu. He wasn’t a threat to the plan.

He was just a pain in the ass.

Like a shitty party guest, Kakashi had trashed the apartment and hadn’t bothered to clean up.

And he was very difficult to forget about when his junk was taking up so much space.

Obito didn’t want to think about him. There was no point wasting his mental energy on the version of Kakashi who was a disgusting failure. He’d spent years stalking him in the beginning, hating him actively, crowing at Kakashi’s depression and anxiety that became so obvious when he spoke to “Obito” by the memorial stone. For his betrayal, Kakashi deserved to be lost and broken.

At one point, though, Obito had realised that the stalking was pointless. Kakashi was beneath him. He was so far beneath him that Obito hadn’t even bothered to kill him after what he had done to Rin. He shouldn’t endlessly follow people around who didn’t matter.

He’d refocused his attention on his memories of the version of Kakashi who hadn’t killed Rin; who wasn’t trash. And he’d got on with his life.

That had been a good decision. He had barely thought of the flesh and blood Kakashi for the last few years, outside of planning how he could be accounted for and manipulated to gain the Jinchuriki of the Kyuubi, given his role as Naruto’s Sensei.   

But now thinking about Kakashi seemed to be unavoidable.

-----

The straw that broke the camel’s back was a mission report, sent one month after Obito had tried and failed to exist in his dimension without thinking of Kakashi. Impossible, when he sat amongst Kakashi’s garbage. Futile, when he wondered when the next sharp or blunt object would careen in his direction. Before he knew it, he had started checking in on Kakashi like a tick, seeing if he was in Konoha or a mission, because if he was on a mission then the dimension should be safe, but if he was in Konoha then who the fuck knew.

The mission report was lying on Obito’s block when he swirled in. Obito hadn’t been here for several days, so he had no clue when it had arrived. He hadn’t been here because he’d been dealing with the utter clusterfuck that was Kiri. The hunter Ao discovering him with his Byakugan. Calling Madara out. Cancelling Obito’s genjutsu on Yagura and somehow killing the fourth Mizukage in the process. The Sanbi escaping.

Chaos, carnage. Much like what he saw in front of him now, in his dimension.

The report was mundane, messy, omitting key details, and Obito had to look down to the bottom before he could see Kakashi’s henohenomoheji signature and realise that he had written it.

He remembered Kakashi’s handwriting from when they did missions together, and it had always been perfect. Obito had tried and failed to emulate it. Now Kakashi wrote like a lazy, scrawling child.

And now Kakashi had sent him a random note, not even addressed to him. It felt — well, obviously, Kakashi had no idea that he was sending his shit through to someone on the other end, but somehow this action still stung of Kakashi’s old disregard. He’d never given Obito the time of day, and now he didn’t even bother to personally address his messages.

The failure in Kiri made Obito furious. He wanted keenly to kill someone. One person in particular: he wanted to go and pick apart the hunter piece by piece. The only reason he hadn’t was because he wanted his influence in Kiri to stay under the radar, and so far they had no definite evidence that “Madara” was the person who had set the Genjutsu on Yagura.

And he wanted to get Kakashi out of his thoughts and his dimension. Kakashi was stopping Obito’s focus on the future. With Kisame in the Akatsuki now instead of helping in Kiri, Obito had needed to be more cautious and aware of things than normal. But he had failed because stupid Kakashi wouldn’t leave his head.

Well. He couldn’t do anything to Ao. But maybe there was something he could do to stop Kakashi bothering him. Kakashi didn’t know what was happening to the objects he sent away. Maybe if he did, he’d be a little more fucking considerate.

He crumpled the mission report in his hand, and he grabbed his notebook that he sometimes used to work through complicated ideas about his future plans.

A message for a message.

On a free page he wrote,

Stop dropping your shit in my dimension, idiot.

He waited for Kakashi to return to his apartment, and then opened the portal just large enough to let his hand through, fling the note at him, and give him the middle finger. Then he swirled back away again.

He assessed the piles of crap in his dimension, drew on all the anger that made him want to rend Ao and half of Kiri in two, and he used that anger to call forth his Mokuton. Let his arms become branches, thrusting all the chaotic garbage that Kakashi had left him into a far corner of the dimension.

He looked around him. Finally, the space was free of Kakashi’s visible influence.

For precisely three seconds, he felt triumphant.

Then his anger started to dissipate, and with it some measure of rationality returned.

He groaned, sliding down against the block behind him.

That had been extremely stupid. He knew his former teammate well, and Kakashi wasn’t going to let something like a note stop him from achieving his goals.

He’d probably encouraged him.

-----

And indeed, several weeks later, Kakashi sent a book through. It would have struck his head, but Obito saw it out of the corner of his eye and flung his head back so the edge of the book hit his nose before slapping against the ground.

“What have you brought me this time, Bakashi?” he said, longsuffering, rubbing the bump on his nose.

He picked up the book and opened it on a random page.

Her plump breasts, desirous as any Sea Siren, heralded only the sweetest of pillows for Captain—

Obito slammed the book closed, feeling his face heating up.

Kakashi had responded to his complaint by sending him a romance novel?

He turned to look at the cover, feeling his eyebrows rise sky-high. Icha Icha Paradise, by the Sannin Jiraiya.

He flicked through the novel with it at arm’s length. It was trash, plain and simple. The book spent barely two paragraphs describing the main protagonist, and what descriptions were there were terrible (he had a manly strut, calf-high boots, biceps near-breaking his tunic). It quickly devolved into various sexual encounters between the Sea Captain and pirates or mermaids that he met on his voyage. They were described fairly explicitly, but also badly.

This was too much.

Kakashi knew that someone was in the dimension now, and he had chosen to send porn through?

Was he teasing him?

Because Obito wasn’t currently emotionally compromised by the strong desire kill someone, he more self-control than before. He left the book there and went about his business, glaring at it every now and then.

Until, one day, he returned from Amegakure grinding his teeth together at the slow progress toward his goal, just wanting to let off some steam. All around him were idiots who didn’t share his ideals (Nagato, Konan) or a creep who he hated who he happened to agree with (Zetsu). He’d been pursuing a single ambition for so many years, alone, and it was frustrating beyond measure that he couldn’t complain to anyone about it, or even relax here in his dimension anymore…

His eyes landed on the porn book, and he flushed a tiny bit, and then he scowled at it. Kakashi wasn’t going to make him feel embarrassed in his own dimension, for Sage’s sake.

Before he could caution himself, he grabbed that pen and paper and wrote out another missive, then dropped it and the cursed book off to Kakashi again.

Why would I have any interest in your porn, you moron?

If you’re going to drop crap all over here at least clean it up. This place is becoming a fucking pigsty.

Afterwards, wondered what sort of lunacy had overcome him that he would hint at an invitation to the dimension.

-----

One hour later, scribbling ideas to expedite his plans, Obito felt a light object settle on his head.

He snatched the single piece of paper, and started to read, and his eyes flew out wide.  

Thanks for returning the book, Hand-san!

Sorry about the mess.

I can clean up if you tell me how to get to the Kamui dimension.

If you don’t like fine adult literature, what do you like? I’m practicing, so I need to send objects through.

Obito stared at the note, processing it, for several minutes.

Several factors struggled for simultaneous dominance in his mind.

Kakashi thought he was a disembodied hand. Just how idiotic was he?

Kakashi had asked him what he liked. Kakashi would — send him things that he liked? Not just trees to knock him unconscious?

Kakashi was offering to come to the dimension. He’d picked up on Obito’s definitely-not-invitation.

Kakashi was communicating with him. For the first time in the second half of Obito’s life, he was having a conversation — albeit on text — with someone, not as Madara, or as any other character he’d played over the years, but as himself.

And Kakashi’s handwriting was still dreadful.

-----

But also — what the fuck was the Kamui dimension?

-----

Kamui was a nice word for their dimension, Obito would admit, in the wake of Kakashi’s next letter, holding the now-empty box of dango that Kakashi had sent to him.

Their dimension, yes. Well, Obito could hardly call it his dimension anymore. Not now that Kakashi had access to Kamui. Not when his shit was taking up the space physically and he himself was taking up the space mentally.

It was a bad idea to keep communicating with him; Obito did know this. So he stopped: wrote something curt and dismissive, and decided it would be his last letter.

He didn’t write to Kakashi for many months.

But Kakashi still wrote to Obito. He wrote stories about his life. He drew pictures for Obito. And he sent him gifts. Stupid things that Obito definitely hated, because Kakashi was blatantly trying to manipulate him into learning more about his ability, and the fact that Obito had never been given gifts by anyone since his own gift to Kakashi didn’t matter, didn’t matter at all.

This was the status quo. Obito spending some of his time in Amegakure or swirling to different parts of the Elemental Nations, checking on the Akatsuki and his plans. But now that he didn’t have to be the Mizukage in Kiri, he filled most of those hours in Kamui, waiting for Kakashi’s next correspondence; or in Konoha, watching Kakashi go about his days, aware he’d fallen back into the habits of his youth but not quite able to bring himself to do something else with his time.

Until finally, Kakashi went back to his own bad behaviour and dropped a forest on Obito.

#bp shortfic #bp answers #kb prompts #kamui blues #obkk #kkob #kakaobi #oh and to answer the last bit of your question which I didn’t directly answer in the story #I don’t think Obito expected Kakashi to figure it out #At least not in the beginning #Mangekyo abilities are mysterious and there could have been many different explanations for a random nin being in kamui #and he didn’t know Kakashi had seen his eye after all #which would of course have been the biggest hint

[butter--peanut]

Can't stop thinkin about Kakashi as Sukea snapping photos of Obito while they fuck, so that Obito would be proven wrong with his "photos are useless to me" thing

YES YES ANONS actually you inspired a little snippet combining both of your ideas. 858 words, all under the cut because it's E-rated.

AU of the Best Team if they got the merchants with no bloodshed and didn't encounter the Zombie Duo, but you don't really need to have read new recruit/the best team to get what's going on here, hehe

Obito had just been forced to shut his eyes from the perfect intensity of the warm lips sliding down his cock, but he flickered them open at the sound of a flash.

Sukea’s camera was held in the man’s free outstretched hand, pointed toward them.  

For a moment, he felt an odd mix of shock and outrage.

Then he couldn’t stop his giggle.

“Sukea is really taking his picture hobby to the next level,” he said. “You wanted to capture this?”

With a delicate pop, Sukea pulled his head back from Obito and looked up at him innocently. “I wanted to capture us,” Sukea said, unrepentant. Offhandedly, “Though I may have to be a bit more careful than normal about where this ends up.” 

Sukea twitched the instant photo from the camera just as he twitched the fingers of his other hand from the base of Obito’s shaft upward, making him shiver from the pressure, then flourished the photo in front of his face.

Sukea said, amused, “Now, do you have an opinion about my camerawork?”

Obito stared at the photo as it came into focus. 

And kept staring.

“You haven’t said anything, but I can intuit a positive attitude,” Sukea said slyly, putting the slightest pressure on Obito’s dick which, yeah, might have become even harder on seeing that photo than it had been at Sukea’s last ministrations.

“Sometimes you take — urgh — pretty pictures, Sukea,” he admitted. “They can be useful. Especially when they’re of yourself, at the angles I can’t see.” 

From this picture he could see the side view of his teammate, head tilted, Sukea’s eyes shut in concentration, tongue peeking out of his mouth, a thin line of saliva bridging the small gap between his lips and Obito.

It still felt unreal and giddy to be here. Flush from their success in Yodoma. Spending some days taking the long road back to base, stretching out the time together as much as possible. Stopping in a hotel. Sukea getting tipsy on colourful drinks with umbrellas that Obito bought them with their bounty money. Obito getting a little tipsy on the mood alone, Sukea’s teasing half-lidded stare, the flirting that was so obvious he couldn’t pass it off as wishful thinking. Deciding, to hell with it, and making a pass, almost as though proposing a new challenge, a new game. 

Sukea barely pausing for a moment before happily matching that challenge. 

Speaking of matching a challenge…

“Tobi’s turn?” he asked Sukea, flipping them over, fingers on the buttons of Sukea’s trousers. Due to his mask he couldn’t use his tongue here, unfortunately, unless he blindfolded Sukea — ooh, and wasn’t that an intriguing idea for the future — but there were myriad other ways to make Sukea feel nearly as good as he’d made Obito feel.

Sukea raised his eyebrows, tilting his head downward in an assent that felt like of course. 

And then the vision in front of him was also ripe for a picture-perfect moment, and Obito might have suggested just that, but for one particular, distracting detail.

“Sukea,” Obito said, not quite hiding the sense of triumph in his voice. “Tobi has discovered something else about you.”

“…Oh?” 

He twisted his fingers through Sukea’s sparse pubic hair, and said, sing-song, “Tobi thinks you might just be wearing a wig.” 

Sukea glanced down and then back up, looking a shade of rueful. 

“Ah. Somehow I — didn’t think that would be an important detail to account for.” 

Most of the time Obito was giving up his secrets like loose change, so it was always a joy when the tables turned.   

“So, what’s your real hair like, Sukea?” Obito teased. “Do you have a mullet? Are you balding? Do you have dreadlocks? Tobi wants to see.” 

Sukea appeared to be considering it. And really, whatever he was hiding, it wasn’t like a little hair would give it away. 

“If I let you take the wig off me,” Sukea offered, “I think it’s only fair to take the mask off you. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Laying down his own challenge. Raising the stakes. 

But just like seeing Sukea’s hair, was it really such a big deal if Sukea saw Obito’s face? He’d already revealed so much. It wasn’t like Sukea knew he was supposed to be Madara. It’s not like his face would be remarkable, apart from its ugliness from his scars, which meant he’d never have a chance of matching Sukea’s beauty. But Sukea seemed to like him when all he could see was a half-chopped orange, so he didn’t think his teammate was someone who would fixate on appearance. 

This way he could kiss him to his heart’s content, no blindfold necessary. This way he could truly return Sukea’s favour…

“I’d say that’s fair,” Obito said, with his real voice, and Sukea’s eyes lit up in clear excitement. 

“Well. Let me immortalise this moment for the both of us,” Sukea said, his camera at the ready. 

Obito’s hand lingered over Sukea’s hair, readying to touch it and send it to Kamui. 

Sukea’s hand hooked underneath his mask, readying to unveil him.

“Three, two, one,” said Sukea. 

Obito said, “Cheese.”

Flash. 

#bp answers #bp shortfic #kakaobi #obkk #tobisuke #tw suggestive #I wrote this on the plane so who knowsss what the quality is like #but I had fun #new recruit

[butter--peanut]

ahhh it felt so nice to write some fic again today! finally back to the Last Act. Here’s a little wip snip from the start of ch7 for anyone curious :D

They were making good time, Konan thought, as they approached the hideout that Nagato would be placed in before the siege of Konoha began.

She was sitting in a large carriage with Nagato, watching him closely, making sure that he wasn’t overly injured by the shifts and bumps in the road. This cart needed to be custom-designed to support his large size — it wasn’t just Nagato who they needed to transport, but the many chakra rods impaled in his back, and the throne-like structure that supported him. Nagato was planning to control all six Paths of Pein simultaneously, which would draw heavily on his chakra sources. He’d thus been reserving his energy by dozing in the cart, wincing occasionally when a bump in the road jarred the rods in an uncomfortable position. She’d tried her best not to wake him, keeping the blinds drawn across the cart and resting a blanket across his lap, keeping in the heat.

She went to see Nagato in person as often as she could, but this was rarely possible with her extensive duties in the Akatsuki. Now, despite the difficult time they would find ahead of them, fighting against a large, rich, hidden village, she was grateful for the chance to see her friend as himself, rather than shrouded by the image of the man they’d both once loved. His red hair hung lank over his Rinnegan eyes and his mouth twisted in a constant source of pain from the shifting rods in his back, but she could tell he was anticipating their progress as much as she was.

The carriage slowed, and then stopped, as they reached the clearing where Nagato would be deposited. Here he would be close enough to Konoha to employ the Rinnegan’s abilities.

She nudged him gently, and he returned to consciousness, tilting his head to let his long hair fall away from his eyes, looking at her blearily.

“It’s time,” she said.

Nagato couldn’t walk, so she carried him in her paper jutsu, spinning the parchment to kept him secure as they travelled out of the carriage and into the clearing. Then, again, she drew deep into her chakra, forming a mammoth, cavernous imitation tree from paper, growing from the ground up around them. She reinforced the paper carefully, making the tree’s walls stronger than that of a building. She would leave with Pein’s Paths, and Nagato would be distracted by seeing through the eyes of his puppets, so it was vital that this hideout was as secure as possible.

Inside the paper tree was dark, only a tiny amount of light filtering through the paper walls. Konan set the throne for Nagato at one wall, his Paths standing to attention behind her, and placed some small artificial lights near his feet so that they could see each-other.

“How is this?” she asked Nagato.

He nodded, fatigued from the journey even with the time he’d spent resting. She was tired too, after so many years and so much loss. It would be good to finally end this. Konan was living to make Nagato’s dream a reality, and today, they would make large strides toward their eventual goal.

“Good,” Nagato said, through Yahiko’s body. “This is sufficient.”

“A bit too dark for me, personally,” said a foreign voice.

Konan twirled to face the origin of the sound, alarm bells sounding in her head.

“It feels like a cave,” the voice continued. “Hasn’t this organisation had enough of caves to last a lifetime?”

Someone was here. Someone had entered their hideout without her noticing.

That was concerning. But whoever it was, they would have no chance against her and the entire contingent of Nagato’s Paths.

The voice came from far back in the tree, outside the small light source under Nagato. It was too dark to see anything at that distance.

“Mah, there’s something to be said for the effectiveness of a well-trod path,” a different voice said, circumspect. Konan’s eyes narrowed, peering through the darkness to try and make out these figures. Two rather than one was still no challenge to defeat. But how had their hideout been discovered? “Though happily, a paper cave-in is unlikely to lead to any injury.”

“When Konan is the one building it? Her paper’s deadly. I wouldn’t take that bet.”

And they knew her, and her abilities.

She stepped in front of Nagato. Nagato’s Paths were now starting to stalk out around the edge of the cave, their many Rinnegan gleaming purple through the darkness.

“Well. I admit I’d be much happier if we could keep you out of any unstable structures, paper or no.”

“Agreed. Then let’s get on with this.”

The figures began to walk forward, coming closer into the light. It was their eyes that she could pick out first, two red pinpricks amongst the darkness.  

They didn’t have much time, and Konan knew the value of a quick attack. Without any warning, she drew out a row of paper bombs and cast them into the space ahead of her, letting off an immediate explosion. In tandem, Pein wearing Yahiko’s body stepped forward and held out his hands, warping gravity enough to keep the explosion from coming their way, instead pushing it back to the intruders. The bombs combined with Pein’s gravity-defying jutsu destroyed some of the paper wall of the tree, letting the bright glare of sunlight filter through the gap. The sunlight plus the mist and dust of explosion cast hazy outlines of the two intruders, revealing both of them to be wearing cloaks.

And revealing that they were still standing, and did not appear to be injured by the blast, nor by Pein’s Shinra Tensei attack.

And that they were — holding hands?

One of them waved their free arm wildly through the slowly-clearing dust. “Waah, Konan-san, Leader-san, too mean! We haven’t even had time to say hello, and I do not wanna give my teammate a panic attack with this paper tree thing falling down on me.”

And that voice she knew very well. It was the same voice that made her grit her teeth in irritation; that made her skin crawl, because a monster wearing a coat of ridiculous silliness was still a monster.

Tobi.

And, therefore…

“Madara?” Nagato rasped, using his own voice, not one of his Paths. With his eyes, he peered into the darkness. The Rinnegan could see much better than Konan’s own two eyes, and he was likely able to make out the chakra of the figures.

“Hah. Well, yes and no.” Back to that register that was unfamiliar to Konan; but now with the context of Tobi’s voice, she could locate it. This was Madara using not his ridiculous high voice and not the low register that he used when he wasn’t putting on his character, but a secret third tone.

“’Madara?’” enquired the other voice.

“Er, yeah. He’s like the Shadow Mizukage but even more of a bastard, if you can believe. Don’t ask me to be him around you. I won’t do it.”

They stepped closer, and the mist from the explosion drifted further away, and with the light filtering in from outside, it was now possible to see them both. And…

This was unexpected.

Madara wasn’t wearing his mask. He looked around her own age, the right side of his face mangled with scars, the left side eye closed.

He looked nothing like the Madara that she had seen in pages of the history books.

Though sometimes history misled. Of course, she knew that well, with the way the major villagers had all-but eliminated history of antagonism against the smaller villages from their curriculum. And he had that red eye. A Sharingan. He was most certainly an Uchiha.

Beside him was the S-rank Konoha Shinobi Hatake Kakashi. Like Madara, there wasn’t a single scratch on him from the blast. It wasn’t surprising that Madara’s ability had let the explosion and effect of Nagato’s Rinnegan pass through him, but if Hatake was in the same unhurt state, then Madara must have deliberately protected him.

Ah, that’s why they had been holding hands.

But then, why were they, still. Holding hands.

#bp shortfic #tobisuke #kkob #new recruit #I missed these ridiculous idiots

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Hello! If you are still taking little prompts i would LOVE to know what was goin on in obitos head when kakashi was like 'hahaha come to my home use my shower have a drink maybe teehee' in kamui blues... xoxooxoxo

This is less cracky than you might have been expecting, anon, but I hope you still enjoy it!

Kamui Blues prompt request #14 (previous requests), Obito's PoV of Chapter 6, the scene in Kakashi's apartment, including his reaction to hearing "Companion" for the first time. t-rated, 2034 words.

Obito brushed the wet fog from the glass with his pale, bare hand, and stared at his reflection in the mirror of Kakashi’s bathroom.

He’d been distracted a moment before, by someone knocking on Kakashi’s door and chatting to him, and hearing the sentence are you fucking Tenzo before Kakashi had slammed the door on the intruder, and come on, Kakashi, surely you would have mentioned something like that to your roommate who you spend half your days with — and caught up with his irritation, he’d barely registered throwing on these clothes that Kakashi had left for him, until he reached the tough green material at the bottom of the pile.

Konoha’s shinobi flak jacket.

He’d never worn this before. Obviously not, when he’d spent one day as a Chunin before the world all went to shit.

He didn’t need to wear it. Kakashi had obviously given it to him as a joke. Kakashi’s Kamui buddy was nothing like a shinobi from this hidden village, and Kakashi would find it amusing to see his neighbour dressed up in such an outlandish costume.

He didn’t need to put it on. He could just walk out of the bathroom and throw it on the floor and make some offhanded complaint about Kakashi wanting him to overheat.

Kakashi’s clothes didn’t fit Obito properly — they were too tight around the chest and shoulders and too long in the arms, stupid lanky gorgeous body that Kakashi had — but the flak jacket was naturally loose, and it fit fine as Obito pulled his arms through.

Now he stared at himself, his ugly scars not as sharp in the blurry shimmer of the half-misted glass, and he saw…

For a moment, he saw a double life. A world where Obito had arrived in time to stop Rin’s self-sacrifice, and Kakashi had never revealed how terrible this world was, neither to Obito nor himself. Obito would have come back to Konoha with them both. He would have grown up with Kakashi and Rin over many years, not forced by blood-soaked skin to become an adult at the age of fourteen. He would have been playful with Rin, teased her and hugged her and gleefully accepted her payback. He would have insulted Kakashi, and Kakashi would have insulted him right back, and maybe without their baggage their insults would have one day transformed to something like their banter now in Kamui. At some point, Obito would have had to come to terms with being in love with both Rin and Kakashi. That inconsequential dilemma would have been the biggest point of anguish in his life.

And he would have worn this flak jacket, and he would have worn the leaf on his forehead.

But Kakashi hadn’t given him a hitai-ate today. Because, at the end of the day, this wasn’t his village. Not his home.

He grimaced, and his reflection’s scars bunched up in a harsh rictus.

Thinking about this was as moronic as it was painful. It was good that the world had revealed itself, because now he knew that he had to fix it. He had a chance to make a new history and a new future. That was the only path forward. There was no point imagining what might have been.

He put his mask back on, took one last look at himself (and yes: with orange swirling across his face, this costume was blatantly ridiculous), and went out to Kakashi.

Disoriented from his thoughts, he physically reacted to Kakashi’s offhanded comment that now people thought the two of them might be fucking. (Hah. Only possible in his final dream, maybe.) He sat on the floor against Kakashi’s bed, and maybe Kakashi noticed that his neighbour was a little unsettled, because he also seemed oddly awkward around Obito.

But then Kakashi pulled out a bottle of sake and sat next to him, so much closer than he’d ever sat in Kamui, and they poured for each-other, and Kakashi asked Obito about the latest novel he’d been reading, and Obito was effectively distracted, as the taste of nice alcohol and high-quality literature tended to do for him.

He talked, and Kakashi listened and drank, and the sun began to set.

He did love the books that Kakashi had picked out for him. But maybe even more than the books themselves, he loved that Kakashi seemed to enjoy hearing Obito talk about them, even if Kakashi himself couldn’t give a shit about language or aesthetics or emotional symbolism. Because that meant he liked listening to Obito himself, not just the content. He and Kakashi were friends now, in a way they’d never truly been as children when nearly all their conversations had been arguments. Kakashi did give him the time of day now.

Except that the alcohol seemed to have made Kakashi a little more relaxed than usual. His eye was closed and he was slouching against the bed.

So, not always giving him the time of day, apparently.

Obito said, “And in her third novel, Somedo understands the distinction between the profane and the profound, even if the characters themselves do not,” and glared at Kakashi, who still hadn’t spoken or moved from his resting position in several minutes, “and now you’re not even listening again, you jerk.”

But Kakashi satisfactorily repeated what Obito had just said, proving that he was, indeed, awake.

And then Kakashi opened his eye, looking at him from under his lashes, and his grey eye and silver hair glimmered golden from the bath of evening sunlight, and…

Was this world hell? It surely must be, but it was the most exquisite, breathtaking torture Obito had ever experienced.

Kakashi was gorgeous. Kakashi was ethereal. He was hyperreal, popping from his bedroom floor like some religious object cast in holy light. Obito wanted to worship him. Obito wanted to kiss him. Oh, fuck, he wanted to kiss him so much; just rip his own mask off and lean across the tiny gap between them and, sure, leave Kakashi’s mask on because he surely wouldn’t want to reveal himself, but that was fine; press his lips against the fabric and clutch the back of Kakashi’s neck and hold his divine body close; breathe in his scent that he sometimes caught when they sparred together…

He forced this train of thought snap-shut.

What the fuck was wrong with him? He was letting his mind go off on insane tangents this evening. It was probably the new location, being out in the world with Kakashi, not just in Kamui; but it was pathetic. It was pointless to even fantasise about kissing Kakashi. He needed to get a hold of himself.

And now he’d been staring at Kakashi for too long, obvious even with a mask.

Obito swallowed, cleared his throat. Distraction. Sake was a distraction.

The bottle was empty, but Kakashi guided him to the new sake bottle on the bench along the window of his apartment, and there Obito blinked, his musings in the bathroom coming back to slap him in the face when he saw the photo of Team Minato staring back at him, next to a photo of Kakashi’s Team Seven: his three students as Genin, and Kakashi beaming above them.

His new team, Kakashi said, and his old team.

Well, yes. The symmetry was striking.

Obito picked up both photos and brought them back to Kakashi. It seemed he was destined to think about the past tonight, dressed in this costume of what could have been, and he wanted to bring Kakashi’s thoughts in sync.  

And maybe he wanted to hear Kakashi say some nice things about a long-dead boy who had changed him at Kannabi bridge.

Kakashi didn’t let him down, even though it seemed at first as though he might.

Kakashi, indeed, gave Obito’s past self the biggest compliment he’d ever received.

He wasn’t that person anymore. But maybe there was hope for Obito’s dream.

“And you’re comparing your previous self to the Yondaime,” Obito prompted, pointing at Minato, feeling generous. Wanting to hear Kakashi talk about himself with pride, sharing all the progress that Sakura and Naruto had made recently.

“No,” Kakashi said quickly, and his body tensed, closing off, shoulders rounding as if in defence. “That’s where the comparison ends. I’m nothing like Sensei. Sensei could actually teach. Sensei wouldn’t have let his team fall apart for any reason other than their deaths.”

Oh, and wasn’t that a stupid comment Obito had made. Of course Kakashi was going to take any chance to criticise himself. Kakashi was the only person who couldn’t see how incredible he was.

And, as Kakashi sat glumly with the photos of his two teams, Obito noticed something startling.

Somewhere, over the last few weeks or months, all his anger for Kakashi had disappeared.

He didn’t blame Kakashi for revealing the world’s awfulness anymore. Indeed, it seemed ridiculous that he had ever blamed him. He’d known for many years that Kakashi had never intended to kill Rin; he’d been a victim of circumstance just as she had. Kakashi had been broken irreparably by his action. And why had Obito celebrated that? How could he have laughed at Kakashi’s pain in the past? How could he have watched Kakashi’s grief stuck against his skin thicker than the mask against his face and felt triumphant that Kakashi was broken?

Obito was revolted with himself.

This was why Infinite Tsukuyomi needed to happen: Kakashi needed to have his perfect dream. Kakashi wouldn’t feel pain in his dream. Kakashi would have everything he had ever desired.

In this moment, Obito wanted to help him so much that it was painful. And this sort of pain came with an odd déjà vu of familiarity that he couldn’t quite place, until he wound back the years and saw Kakashi laid out on the floor in front of a nin so much larger than him, eye slashed deep, and felt that same certainty that he would kill and die to save him.

Obito turned away as Kakashi sipped more sake, and he tried to keep his breathing even, tried not to spew out some jumbled mess about how Kakashi shouldn’t discredit himself when he was the only part of the world that was worthwhile, and when he turned back Kakashi had pulled himself together, now wearing a painfully fake smile that he often used around others but only rarely around Obito.

And Kakashi said, “Companion. This is becoming maudlin. Let’s turn to other topics.” 

And Obito had a whole other reason to force his breath to stay steady.

Companion?

What did — what could he possibly mean by that?

When Kakashi went to collect Obito’s clothes from the washing machine, Obito held his arms with his hands and tried to be rational.

Kakashi was drunk. Kakashi didn’t understand what he was saying. Kakashi wasn’t trying to imply that his Kamui buddy was someone closer than a friend. That Kakashi thought of him as a — a partner. The person he travelled with. Someone he cared for. Someone he trusted.

A life companion.

Ludicrous. He was inferring far too much from this. This was the problem with too much literature: seeing a single word and thinking of too many possible underlying meanings. He should give up reading entirely if this is what it led him to think.

Kakashi returned with Obito’s clothes, and now he was noticeably, adorably drunk, and Obito felt a rush of deep fondness on top of everything else he had experienced this evening, this tumble of intense emotions that would make any member of his old clan nod their heads in sympathetic understanding.

He touched Kakashi’s hands to stop his silly attempt at a drying jutsu, and he didn’t even try to keep the warmth out of his voice.

He was endlessly grateful that they would have the next few weeks or months together in Kamui. Kakashi didn’t truly think of him as a companion, but Obito could play pretend in the time they had. And after everything, in Obito’s dream, maybe Kakashi could take on that role.

If only he could convince himself that Kakashi could ever feel that way for him.

#kb prompts #bp answers #bp shortfic #kkob #obkk #kamui blues #it was fun to write this just after ch1 from Obito’s pov #because he has clearly changed so much in the last year #makes me want to write ch 3/4 from his pov too to show the shift happening but aaargh time #still I am happy with this #it soothed all the big obito feels I've had over the past few days

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📓 👀👀👀

Had a little bunny about Obito's tendency to help grandmas. Maybe that continued even post-Kannabi? Tried to write a 5+1 crack oneshot with this concept. Wrote the first part which I still think is cute and could maybe be a standalone drabble. Here ya go!

(send me a 📕 and I’ll send you a snippet of or idea for a wip!)

Even evil and pursuing the Eye of Moon plan, Obito can’t seem to escape grandmas asking for his help.

(Konan PoV, Amegakure)

It had been six months since Yahiko’s death, and nothing in the world would ever be right again. All Konan and Nagato had left were each-other, and they were united in their pain. Together, they had agreed to work with Madara, as untrustworthy as he seemed, and support his plan to amass the Bijuu. Only then would they be strong enough to make an impact on this cruel, pointless world.

But today, Akatsuki operations had been left on the back-burner for the necessary village operations. Konan and Nagato, through his Yahiko Path, had been seeing their villagers and hearing their requests. Because losing one’s light in life wasn’t an excuse to neglect the administrative requirements in leading a hidden village.

If anything, Konan was practical.

Now, they had called in a village elder called Mikato. She’d once been a feared kunoichi, and was still a highly respected advisor in Amegakure, known for her unflinching attitude to make the tough decisions to support the village. Even now that she was no longer able to fight, her Sensory abilities were frequently called on. Today, though, she was seeing them about something a little more domestic.

“I put my back out,” she told them frankly, leaning heavily on a cane. “I’m trying to build my granddaughter a treehouse that can be ready for her birthday. As you know, my children died in the recent battle with Hanzo, and all of my friends are busy or my age, so now I have no one to help me with this job. Do you have anyone to spare, just for a few hours?”

Konan considered this.

In the background, Madara swirled in with his strange teleporting jutsu. Sometimes he did this: stare at her and Nagato as they were going about their day. It was creepy and uncalled for, but that was Madara in a nutshell.

Mikato turned immediately and took him in.

“You there,” she said, and he stilled, looking at her. “You seem like a fine, strong, young gentleman. Can you help me build a treehouse for my granddaughter?”

Madara stared at her. Konan tensed slightly, because Madara was still a highly unknown wildcard, and who could say how he would respond to being casually asked to pause his plans for world domination and complete an errand?

“Are you serious?” Madara growled eventually. He turned to Konan. “Why did you let her in here?”

“We are in charge of Amegakure,” Konan pointed out. “Our citizens sometimes request our assistance.”

“You should really help me,” Mikato said. “I would be very grateful, and my granddaughter would be too.” Wily, “I have some apple cake that I could share with you.”

A loaded pause.

“I have an appointment in Kiri in the next hour,” he said to Mikato, voice tight. “If I help you, I’ll be late to that.”

“I’m sure that they would understand,” Mikato said gently, and Konan’s lip twitched. Mikato was a keen strategist, and she was leaning into her “grandma” persona as she could see Madara was about to break. “What cruel person would deny an old woman asking for some brief assistance?”

Madara pressed a palm to his mask. “Urgh. Even now, I can’t escape you.”

He removed his hand and stood a little straighter. “Okay, granny.”

Madara’s voice was higher all of a sudden, almost childlike.

“This had better be quick. Lead the way.”

On the walk out, the grandma held up her cane and leaned into Madara instead. He grumbled, then wrapped an arm around her, supporting her.

“His weakness is…grandmas,” Konan observed to Nagato.

“Grandmas are his weakness,” Nagato agreed, moving to look out the window, watching Madara wander out supporting Mikato.

#bp shortfic #uchiha obito #I do love my silly crack stories I should get back to this

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No Last Act this week, sorry folks! Still busily working away on it/getting pulled away by busy work. But in the meantime, here’s a little chunk of the draft. :)

Tobi’s voice was still his high, silly character voice, but now uncharacteristically soft. He didn’t want any of the rest of the Konoha nin to know that he was here.

Kakashi could now hear another Tobi in the middle of the clearing, saying hello to the group again and making Naruto groan. He had made a clone, then, and Kakashi had missed his moment to hurt Tobi while he was teleporting in.

He couldn’t tell whether the wave of relief or the subsequent guilt at said relief was the stronger emotion.

But there wasn’t time to introspect; Kakashi himself was under threat now that Tobi had noticed him. At this close-range, Tobi could easily attempt to strike him or teleport him somewhere. Kakashi couldn’t let himself be separated from the group, because without his information, everyone else here would be under threat.

He shifted the kunai in his grip to where it would be most powerful as an upward thrust. It was behind his body, invisible from Tobi’s eyes. Although Tobi had surely seen the kunai when he’d snuck up on Kakashi, there was some small speed advantage, at this close range, from an opponent not quite knowing the direction of attack. If Tobi attacked him, he could counter effectively in the moment that Tobi was permeable.

Watching him, Tobi made a small sound of dissatisfaction. Then he spread his hands outward, demonstrating no weapon.

“Don’t worry. Tobi isn’t here to fight.”

Kakashi tilted his head slightly in the direction of the clearing, where he could hear Tenzo’s increasingly exasperated orders for new formations. “Your actions say otherwise.”

“Oh, that’s not fighting. That’s fun!”

Kakashi would humour him for now. “Then why are you here?”

“Well, Tobi needed a breather, you know, because those students of yours are tricky. Cool formations that the wood guy made up for them. And I saw you here and thought, hey, the Copy Nin’s taking a breather too! Why not go leave our clones to play and get his autograph, because he’s such a celebrity really, with that fancy blue lighting and pretty fluffy hair and all the Bingo Book entries—”  

“Are you trying to capture Naruto?”

Tobi did a double take.

“No way, Sensei. Jinchuriki-kun is gonna be just fine. See?” Tobi pointed to where Tobi’s clone was cheerfully continuing to dodge or slide through all his opponents’ attacks over in the clearing. “If Tobi wanted to take him, it wouldn’t be hard. He left lots of openings for the sort of attack Tobi could launch.”

Tobi was correct, as Kakashi well knew. If Tobi wanted to capture Naruto with his chains, he could do so. If he wanted to transport Naruto right to the Akatsuki base, into that cage that Kakashi had freed the last two Jinchuriki from, he could do that too.

It was also about the time, now, that Tobi would normally have stopped playing and started telling Sukea to get on with things and “be amazing” as per normal. So perhaps Naruto wasn’t the main purpose of this visit after all.

But if Tobi wasn’t trying to capture Naruto…

“Then you’re trying to stop us getting to Sasuke,” Kakashi said.

Tobi held up his index finger.

“Bingo! Well, stop temporarily. Put a pause on your paws.”

“Why?”

“Why not! Maybe Tobi just wants to help Konoha be stylishly late to the party. ‘Cos when you see him, it’s gotta be just the right time.”

“The right time for what?”

“Uh, uh, that would be a spoiler! You don’t tell your dinner guests what you’ll serve up to them on a silver platter later that evening. Well, Tobi assumes so. He’s never held a dinner party.”

“And you saw me here,” Kakashi said, ignoring the irrelevant parts of Tobi’s speech, “and realised I wasn’t underestimating you. I was planning to attack and was a danger to your plan. You decided to form a clone and distract me, allowing your own distraction to continue.”

Tobi tilted his head from side to side, as though considering that proposition.

“Yeah, nah, yeah, nah, yeah — not really. But points for effort! Don’t get me wrong; Tobi knows that you’re dangerous. Tobi hasn’t stopped being impermeable since he came to you because he knows you could kill me if you really tried, and Tobi wouldn’t want to do that to you, not now, not ever.”

He didn’t want to do that to Kakashi?

Tobi shrugged. “But really, Tobi saw that you weren’t enjoying yourself like Tobi was, and that took the fun out of everything. So, it’s time for the next stage of my plan, where I ask you a very important question.”

Tobi leaned in. He was close enough that he could attempt a close-range killing blow if he wanted to.

(Kakashi was close enough that he could try the same; slash the kunai up along his neck just as Tobi impacted him.)

But Kakashi didn’t move his hand, and Tobi made no move to hurt him either.

Tobi murmured. “Tobi needs your help, okay? And in return, I’ll bring you right to your old student, safe and sound, with my very special powers.”

#new recruit #bp shortfic #tobisuke #kkob #have to say I'm v proud of no way sensei xD

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I took a brief tangent in the latest (last, for now!) new recruit chapter to simp over Kakashi’s skill and intelligence w/o the Sharingan and get him to acknowledge how amazing he is. Here is some of that simping :D

When Kakashi began this long mission, he’d been a little worried at the restriction to his abilities that was necessary to stay undercover: no Sharingan and no Raikiri. His dojutsu and his signature kill jutsu had made up the lion’s share of his battle strategy ever since Kannabi bridge. Would having them unavailable mean that he could still truly go toe-to-toe, blow-for-blow with other S-rankers? A small but vocal part of his mind told him that he was little without Obito’s gift, and this mission would demonstrate how obvious that was.

But incredibly, the mission had shown him something very different. Without the Sharingan, he was forced to draw on other alternatives than Raikiri to defeat nin. And as he went through his mental catalogue one evening, having met a bounty on his way to intercept the Akatsuki where Konoha spies had told them they would be travelling, he’d had to pause in surprise when his mind offered up at least a dozen alternatives that should have exactly the same lethal impact with a sliver of the chakra cost.

He remembered most of these jutsu because of the Sharingan, of course. Having both eyes bared across a decade of ANBU missions had shown him jutsu after jutsu that the Sharingan had passively copied.

But it wasn’t the Sharingan that made him practice these jutsu after hours in the ANBU training ground after every mission, honing the speed of his hand-seals and nodding, satisfied, at their eventual success. And it wasn’t the Sharingan that let him assess the style and abilities of his opponent rapidly and then cast up the possible responses in his mind like a dozen juggling balls at once, holding them all in his head, effortlessly sifting through their strengths and weaknesses, feeling the creativity of being able to link several different possibilities or try a jutsu in a different way than he ever had before.

There had been a time, after he’d left ANBU and was doing plain old A-ranks, trying not to automatically kill his quarries if he could avoid it, when he’d started drawing on this long databank of alternative jutsu, and he had noticed, with some surprise, the impact that had on his recognition in the Shinobi world: the friend-killer or Kakashi of the Sharingan monikers starting to be discarded in favour of Copy Nin.

Then he had started teaching, and his desperation to protect his team and keep them together had had him return to Raikiri, and return to overusing the Sharingan.

Now, as Sukea, without Kakashi’s responsibilities and not as weighed down by Kakashi’s grief, he truly felt like the Copy Nin again. It was a joy to think fast; to feel his mind sliding through possibilities. His brain seemed to work even faster than normal in the wake of his delight and relaxation. Every time he had a bounty to capture it felt like a fun puzzle to work through. People had called him intelligent in the past, but now he truly felt it.

He wondered if Obito would have been offended by that.

Oh right, Bakashi, you felt like a dumb one-trick pony when you used the body part that I gave you. Can’t even stop insulting me for the gift that’s saved your life and the life of those you love multiple times. Cut me some slack!

Sorry, Obito, he thought now, staring at Hidan and Kakuzu as he unsealed his katana and a couple of kunai. I do appreciate your gift. And I’m sorry I haven’t shown you the world with your eye for a little while. But it’s also very nice to know that while I can always have it as a back-up, I don’t always need it.

#bp shortfic #new recruit #also I guess most of the chapter is BAMF Kakashi too I doo love my badass boy

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Finally thought of a plot I’m happy with for the New Recruit sequel! Still no idea when it will form as a full fic, but in the meantime here’s a snippet of Tobi/Sukea shenanigans from the start of the draft. 

They were walking along a gravel path not far from a small town which housed the local bounty station. They were in an area where the Akatsuki was known, and they wanted to stay at least vaguely under the radar, so they were both wearing plain clothes for once — Kakashi in Sukea’s regular coat and trousers, and Tobi wearing what he had on under his Akatsuki robes: black long-sleeved trousers and shirt that each had plates of armour running down the sides and a large purple tie at the waist. 

Tobi had borrowed Kakashi’s camera.

(“I thought you didn’t like photography?”

“Tobi wants to see what all the fuss is about! Sukea has so much fun with his oversized object that makes poor quality images!”)

Tobi was now mocking Kakashi’s tendency to take photos of miscellaneous scenes from their travels.

“Ooooh. A teeny tiny rock that looks like so many other rocks!”

“The sky has so many colours, look at this blue, now this other blue. So many shades that aren’t captured in this flat photograph!”

“Sukea! See what a nice photo I took of this dog poop squished on the road!” 

“Very nice, Tobi,” Kakashi said, smiling at him. “Perfectly centred. You’re getting a hang of image framing.” 

He wasn’t at all irritated by Tobi’s teasing. He felt relaxed, buoyant, curious to see where Tobi might take their game next. Just like any other day wandering the elemental nations with his teammate.

Tobi huffed. “How can Sukea enjoy boring photos of random landscape crap?” He giggled. “See what Tobi did there?” 

Tobi turned the camera on Kakashi now, snapping a series of photos of him at different angles.

“Look, I’m the paparazzi! Sweet, pretty Sukea, give your fans some material to work with!”

Kakashi gave him the peace sign, and Tobi swooned over-dramatically. “Be still, Tobi’s absent beating heart!”

A large civilian family were coming by, walking with a cart half-stacked with fruits and vegetables — clearly sellers at the market of the town they were heading toward — and Tobi cried, “Selfie!” and turned the camera around in his hand so both he and Kakashi were in frame; an awkward angle for this large camera, to be sure. Tobi threw his free arm around Kakashi’s shoulder, and waved that hand at the family, who were looked at them very strangely.

“Don’t mind us,” Tobi said to them cheerfully. “We’re just two totally-not-criminal best friends who want to take a moment to mark our eternal devotion to one another. It’s a picture perfect moment!”

“I hope you sold lots of your produce today,” Kakashi added kindly, as they hurried past. 

“Forget about those vegetable sellers, Sukea! Say cheese!”

“Cheese,” Kakashi said, one lazy hand of his own making bunny ears over Tobi’s head, as Tobi snapped a photo.

#new recruit #bp shortfic #tobisuke #kkob #obkk #they just...make me so happy to write #life still v busy now but hopefully I can finish this in the next month or so

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@enevera tagged me for WIP Wednesday (thank you!), and although it’s no longer Wednesday, I did happen to frantically start writing a WIP on Wednesday that is now 15k and nearly finished. It also happens to be the first kakayama fic I’ve written, yay! The story takes one of my fav Kakashi HCs (he’s a fan of frequent, no-strings-attached casual sex to distract himself) and adds a demisexual, ace-spectrum Tenzo who frequently walks in on Kakashi and his liaisons. (This snippet is M-rated).

I’m terrible at tagging people which is why I often avoid tag games sorry if I ever haven’t replied to yours but @thedreamermusing if you’d like to do this you’re welcome! <3 And anyone else please feel free :)

“Let’s get some sleep,” Kakashi said to both of them, having finished his meal ridiculously fast without any discomfort, as per usual. “It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.” 

He stood up, then paused, and said, “Tenzo. If you really find it uncomfortable — let me know, okay? I can be subtle if I need to.” 

“It’s fine, Kakashi-senpai,” Tenzo said with a sigh. Sure, Kakashi was an expert at subtlety for missions, and had the ability to bring that to his sex life. But it felt mean and unfair to ask him to act like he was on a mission when he was off the clock. This was his relaxation, his coping strategy. Tenzo wasn’t petty enough to stop him relaxing the way he wanted to.

“Thank you,” Kakashi said, smiling at him, then walked back up the stairs. 

“It’s kind of you, Tenzo,” Yugao added, patting him on the shoulder as she stood up. “To let Senpai have this for himself, when you don’t feel the same way for people.” 

Tenzo hummed noncommittally, and only once Yugao left the room allowed himself to sigh and rest his head in his hands.

Well. The thing was.

Until several months ago, Yugao’s statement would have been entirely correct: Tenzo had never felt sexual attraction toward another person. He hadn’t understood the whispers in the ANBU locker room about how good-looking certain teammates were. He’d been completely blindsided the few times that similar-aged recruits had propositioned him over the years, stammering out an awkward, apologetic rejection. When he was eighteen and Crow had complimented his hair and called him beautiful and asked him for a kiss, he’d decided to try it out to see what all the fuss was about. The kiss was nice, he supposed, and he enjoyed the intimacy of Crow hugging him, but when it started to progress from there he just hadn’t — felt anything. He wasn’t strongly averse to anything that Crow was doing, but he hadn’t become aroused and hadn’t particularly wanted anything to continue. Crow had eventually noticed this and shrugged, said no hard feelings; thanks for the kiss, and they had gone their separate ways.

He’d wondered, at the time, if that was a result of the ROOT experiments, leaving him forever unable to understand what drove people like Kakashi so frequently into the arms of another. But he’d spoken to Yugao about it, and she assured him that he wasn’t abnormal: just like it was possible to feel sexual attraction without romantic attraction (Kakashi being the prime example that sprung to mind) many people could feel romantic attraction with no sexual attraction. 

So, he had accepted this part of himself. He was happy to have Yugao and Kakashi as his close friends, and have a place for himself in Konoha and a job that he performed well. He figured he didn’t need anything more than that.

But then, one day a few months shy of his twentieth birthday, Team Ro had been on a relatively easy mission. Just like hundreds of times before, they had been taking turns washing by a stream. Tenzo had been walking over to swap with Kakashi, and as he approached the river had seen Kakashi emerging from the water, his back to Tenzo. He had watched the water trails glistening down Kakashi’s back, seen the long line of Kakashi neck as he tilted his head to wash his hair, watched his elegant fingers soaping up his hair and his body; and he had wanted, breathtakingly, in a way that he had never wanted someone before. He understood, then, in a rush, everything that people said about arousal. He became embarrassingly hard and rushed away before Kakashi turned to see him. He had to take some time to recover his breath; force his erection away through sheer will.

Of course it would be Kakashi, the person to finally make him feel sexual arousal. 

And once he had felt it the first time, it was like a switch had been flipped. Kakashi had always drawn Tenzo’s attention, affection, and admiration, but now it was difficult to stop looking at him and cataloguing all the ways that he was beautiful. The dangerous elegance when he was in full-ANBU gear. The subtle variety of his smiles. When he was off the clock in the ANBU barracks, just wearing the standard-issue sleeveless tank-top, feet up on a table and one muscled arm behind his head, the other holding up a book to read…

It was criminal, how hot he was. How often he took Tenzo’s breath away. 

He had wondered, now that he knew what sexual attraction felt like, if that feeling would be extended to others. He tested himself, going to watch his colleagues spar in the ANBU training grounds, staring at other ANBU who he knew others would call attractive, waiting for the same feelings to take hold. 

But no; he still didn’t feel attracted to anyone else. Only Kakashi. It seemed he was Kakashi-sexual. 

#bp shortfic #kakayama #this story has a lot of smut it was hard to find a section to share that wasn't E rated xD

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Omg hiiiiiiii ✏️📕👁️

Hey there! Have the start of an ObiYam :)

(send me a 📕 and I’ll send you a snippet of or idea for a wip!)

“Yes, I brought you here. It’s a dimension without any way to return except through me, so there’s no point fighting. You may as well do what I say. I’ll return you in a few hours, safe, your memory gone. Your precious senpai won’t know any different.”

Tenzo blinked and looked around this dimly lit unnatural space, empty but for stone blocks of various shapes scattered across the ground into the endless horizon. In front of him was a man, a single eye on the right side (a Sharingan, actually, now that he looked more closely) and long scars down the right side of his face drawing instant attention. Wearing a mask, this man had appeared in his ANBU barracks in a swirly portal and grabbed his shoulder. Now they were here, the mask in the man’s hand.

The man pointed at himself. “Obito, I suppose.”

“I’m Tenzo,” he responded automatically.

“No shit.” Obito rolled his eyes. “I generally know who I’m capturing before I do it. You’re Tenzo the ROOT experiment who now works in ANBU. You have Hashirama’s cells. You use Mokuton. Fun fact: I also have Hashirama’s cells, and I…use Mokuton.”

“You have Mokuton release?” Tenzo asked, intrigued despite his bewilderment. “Are you another of Orochimaru’s experiments? You survived too?”

“I have nothing to do with that creepy lifelong learner,” Obito scoffed. “But the old man who grafted these cells onto me was just as insane and twice as creepy.” He waved a dismissive gloved hand. “It matters little why I have Mokuton. The point of bringing you here tonight is to use it, not compete for the most tragic origin story.”

Tenzo took this in. And perhaps because this situation was so far from what he had expected when he had sat down in his apartment with a cup of fresh-brewed tea for his weekly ritual of rewriting and fixing Kakashi-senpai’s terrible mission reports, he couldn’t quite stop himself from saying, “You kidnapped me to make wood together.”

“No. I kidnapped you to teach me how to make wood—” and then paused at Tenzo’s snicker, realised what he had said, and gave him a deathly glare. “Oh, you fucking brat. I can already tell this was a terrible idea. If there was literally anyone else on the planet with some semblance of skill I could turn to for this I’d be there in an instant, rather than being reduced to calling on Kakashi’s simpering puppy—”

You know Senpai?” Tenzo asked.

Obito opened his mouth, then paused, and then glared at him.

“I’ll ask the questions here. Let’s get started.”

This mysterious Obito person apparently had no idea how to use Mokuton, despite it being a part of his body for the last eight years.

“It’s annoying,” he told Tenzo reluctantly. “When I’m really angry it shoots out random spikes and impales people. Very accurate, death for dozens in seconds. Yeah, I know it’s impressive.” Completely misinterpreting Tenzo’s horror. “But I don’t feel that level of rage too often. It doesn’t activate for the homebrand constant anger I cart around with me. So I gave up trying to use it. I have enough methods to kill people, so it hasn’t generally been a problem. But then I saw you doing your thing on an ANBU mission that I was watching—”

What? “You watch me?”

“No, you moron. I watch Kakashi. Anyway, I saw you use Mokuton. And I realised that when it can be used properly, it’s quite useful. So, show me how to use it.”

#obiyama #uchiha obito #yamato tenzo #rare pair yeahhh #bp answers #bp shortfic

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“Add a Person”(E, 3713 words)

Happy Happy 30th to my lovely Nisi @wind-becomes-lightning! I am so thankful to have met you ~9 months ago (wow, somehow it feels much longer!). You are one of the kindest and most supportive people I know — and I think even if people don’t know you personally, everyone can see that today so clearly, when you decided to spend your birthday gifting others with gorgeous fics every single hour! Your productivity is remarkable, you are creative and an awesome writer and have OCs I’m in love with. You quickly became one of my closest friends and it’s been a joy to chat with you and nerd out with you and simp with you and at last to meet you!! I can’t wait to celebrate your birthday in person later today, but for now I hope you like this little gift to show how much you mean to me <3

Title: “Add a Person”

Pairings: Yamato/Sora, Kakashi/Sayuri, Yamato/Kakashi, and a little bit of Sayuri/Sora and Sora/Kakashi (I hope these last two are okay Nisi, I didn’t want to spoil the surprise to ask!!)

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3713

Nisi’s OCs included in this story are Sora and Sayuri (links to their character bios). This fic is a sequel to Nisi’s story Ivy. Ivy is a modern day AU where Sora is a sex worker who goes by the codename Ivy and Yamato hires her. I was super intrigued by a few details Nisi included in the original fic (Yamato having kissed before but not who he kissed; the ANBU tattoo that Yamato got “with friends as a symbol that connected with our time together”; the way that Sora mentioned Yamato could always add another person to the app) so I spun those details around into this story.

On Wednesday, after Yamato had woken up and watered his plants and stretched in front of the slowly rising sun, then finally sat down on his couch with a coffee and opened the app for the escort service, he clicked through to select Ivy as he normally did, and then saw the little button that said, add another person. 

He stared at it, and then he thought, why not.

Hey Senpai, Yamato texted Kakashi. Drink after work today? I have a proposition for you.

Yamato and Ivy had been seeing each other every Thursday for the past six months. 

Yamato booked three-hour meetings now, uncaring of the expense because it meant he had more time to talk to Ivy after they’d had sex. They would lie together, sometimes her in his arms and others his in hers, and he would chat about whatever came to mind: questions about sex that she happily answered, his day, his friends, his plans for the future. 

Oh, he wasn’t fooling himself. He knew that this wasn’t a relationship, and that all their interactions were transactions. But it was nice to pretend, for a few hours in a day, that he did have a girlfriend, and Ivy was happy to indulge him.

Amazingly, Ivy had started to open up a little more about her own personal life. Without going into too many details, she’d shared that she grew up in a well-respected family with a surname he’d probably heard of, in a large house in a prosperous suburb of inner Tokyo. That her job here was part-time, and that she was training for a different profession in her spare hours. That she liked her work for the most part. That the nicest part was helping other people to feel good.

On their last meeting, Ivy had been gently teasing Yamato about his lack of experience, and he had been smiling sheepishly, not at all bothered, agreeing, yes, you’re the only person I’ve had sex with. Yes, you’re the only person who has touched my cock. Yes, you’re the only person I’ve given head to.  

“Am I the only woman you kissed?” Ivy asked him finally, and here, now, he could counter this, grinning and raising up a hand. 

“Yes,” he said. “But not the first person I’ve kissed.”

Her eyes flared with interest, and then he found himself explaining his friendship with Kakashi.

They’d met in Black Ops when Yamato was a fresh-faced eighteen-year-old, and spent the next four years together, taking dangerous high-stakes missions across many different countries. (Of course, Yamato couldn’t tell Ivy the details; he left it at we were in the army together.) Yamato had been assigned to Team Seven, and he’d got to watch the flawless teamwork of Kakashi, Rin, and Obito, then wonders of wonders, contribute to that teamwork; feel like he was a truly appreciated part of their team. Kakashi had been his team leader, his Senpai, his guide, and at one notable point, the person who’d saved his life. 

“I had a crush on him,” Yamato admitted, flushing. “He’s incredible, Ivy. And I think he liked me too. But, well, he was in love with a different teammate. And then that teammate died.”

He sighed into the bedsheets, unhappy memories resurfacing.

“I’m sorry,” Ivy said gently, touching his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” Yamato reassured her. “It was a long time ago now. But — before all of that, there was a night we were all drunk at a bar together.” He smiled a little at the memory. “Eventually it was just me and Kakashi left, and we were talking about all of Senpai’s experience with sex — he had a bit of an, er, reputation — and I mentioned that I’d never kissed anyone before, and Senpai said, well, want to change that? And then we kissed. Nothing else. I wasn’t ready for anything else then, and he understood.”

“He sounds like a very kind person.”

Yamato snorted. 

“Well, yes. But he’s also a bastard. Especially now.”

“You still see him?”

“Every day,” he said, unable to stop the fond smile. “We work together now. The government got Rin, Kakashi and I all jobs.” He hesitated, then said, “They offered him a management role.” Coordinating the entire black ops contingent and strategy for deployment. “But he said no. Wanted a quiet life after everything that had happened. Now mostly I see him wasting company time playing with this pug he brings into the office or reading silly porn novels that he likes.”

Ivy looked considering. 

“And you’ve never thought of anything more with him? Anything more than kissing?”

He grinned at her. “Are you asking if I’d like to have a threesome with you and one of my friends, Ivy?” 

She blinked, surprised, then laughed softly. “No! I just know that you’re curious to try new things, Yamato. That’s one of the parts I really like about you. I want to support you with your exploration of yourself.”

Ah, Ivy was so supportive and sweet and eager to help him. That, he was sure, wasn’t just part of her professional act. Just one more reason he liked her so much.

“I wouldn’t want to see him without you,” Yamato said, certain, and Ivy’s gaze softened further as she looked over him. 

Then there was a spark of playfulness.

“Well. You know what I said on our first meeting. You can add a person in the app.”

---

Kakashi wasn’t hard to convince. He’d always had a very low threshold in agreeing to sex, and when Yamato phrased it as a way of self-exploration he said, “I’m all for my cute Kohai’s self-development. Let’s try it.” He took a sip of his beer, then added, “And I’ve never been to an escort service. I’m curious to see what it’s like.”

Despite knowing Kakashi’s general comfort with sex, Yamato really hadn’t expected it would be quite this easy to get him into bed. His eighteen-year-old self’s heart would have been beating clear out of his chest with the thrill.  

(Maybe that itself was why Kakashi agreed so readily: that Yamato’s heart wasn’t beating that way anymore. Kakashi must have known Yamato’s crush had lessened a lot since those initial days — and he knew how much Yamato talked about his friend Ivy).

The morning of, Ivy texted him. She had his direct number, now, because it was so much easier to coordinate unexpected delays or cancellations than on the app. (He was sure that was why she had given him her number. The extra conversation that they engaged in was just a lovely side-effect.)

I have a proposition for you :) Ivy wrote. My friend started working here a few weeks ago. She needs experience with larger group bookings. And I thought, since you are inviting your friend, maybe I could invite mine? From what you said, your friend could be open to this? And you are by far my nicest client. It would be the best introduction for her. No extra charge. :D

Her nicest client!

But Yamato had a reputation for being nice. Many people had called him nice. This surely didn’t mean anything.

Of course, he texted back. As long as Ivy was there too, this sounded like an exciting experience.

The next evening, Yamato went to the regular love hotel that he and Ivy visited. He arrived right on time, even though he assumed Kakashi would be at least half an hour late, because it gave him the opportunity to shower with Ivy, pressing her up against the glass, peppering the vine-patterns on her skin with kisses. Foreplay only; getting ready for the main course.

When they were showered and cuddling up together on the bed, each wearing half-opened fluffy red robes, Ivy said, “I know you said your friend would be late, but it’s strange that mine hasn’t arrived yet.”

Then the door slammed open, and a woman with a long black coat, heeled boots and black hair in a ponytail pointed behind her and said, “Sora, please tell me this stalker isn’t the client for tonight!”

“Er.” Kakashi walked through and waved. “Yo, Tenzo. There seems to have been some confusion.”

Oh, no. Kakashi was going to be the end of him.

Wait. The woman had called Ivy—

“Sora?” Yamato said, turning to Ivy, and Ivy was looking at the woman with the same incredulous exhaustion that Tenzo currently felt for Kakashi.

---

Yamato suggested tea, because that tended to calm tensions. They had tea, and Yamato heard the story.

On the way to the love hotel, Kakashi had walked out of the subway station, head firmly in his book — he’d purchased a new volume of Icha Icha just that morning, and wouldn’t rest until he’d finished it.

It was snowing today, and he had been walking up to the block of the hotel when he drifted to the edge of the street, aiming to avoid a new thick clump of snow piling up the street.

Then a taxi’s door was thrust open, and Kakashi tripped clean over the door, face-planting into the snow below.

“Senpai!” Tenzo said now, laughing. “What happened to your reflexes?”

“I’d reached a really good part,” Kakashi explained with a sigh.

A woman had stepped out of the taxi, and Kakashi had put out a hand and started to say, “Don’t worry about it,” expecting that she was about to apologise profusely.

“Why don’t you look where you’re going!” she said instead.

“Um.” Kakashi stared at her. “I was reading…”

Oh no. Where was Icha Icha Spa Day? It had dropped out of his hands when he fell.

The patch where it had fallen was outside of the was dark. He could barely see a thing.

He dropped down onto his knees, tapping the piled snow.

“Oh, come on,” said the woman. “Don’t tell me you’re going to pretend you were injured from that. I don’t have any money and I’m definitely not compensating you for a non-existent injury—” 

“It’s my Icha Icha.” 

“Your what? That doesn’t sound like any body part I’ve heard of.” 

“No, not my — my book. I’ve lost my book.”

The woman sighed in annoyance, then dropped down next to him, letting the bottom of her black coat drip into the slushy snow. 

“Urgh,” she said, starting to push her bare fingers through the snow. “Make me feel bad by stepping in front of my door and then freeze my fingers off, why don’t you.”

“You don’t have to help me.”

“Oh, no, you’ve guilt tripped me now; clearly I do. Though maybe this is all just some sick ploy to give a poor random passer-by hypothermia — oh, hey!” Her voice rose in triumph, and she pulled up the snow-covered, sodden Icha Icha Spa Day from the ground. “Here you are. Your,” she stared at the cover, “your porn…”

She handed him the book.

“What’s your name?” Kakashi asked.

She stared at him suspiciously. “Sayuri. Why?”

“Sayuri,” Kakashi said, “thank you for finding my book. And,” he gave her a hurt puppy look, “thank you for also ruining it.”

Then he hopped up and made his way back through the streets, opening up the book, wincing at how damp it was. He could barely read the text anymore. He’d have to purchase another copy tomorrow.

He realised Sayuri was following him.

“What?” she said defensively, when he turned back to her. 

“Are you looking for another way to trip me up?”

“Oh, come on! I was going this way already.”

As if to prove it, she hurried passed him, and then Kakashi was following her. Passing sniping comments back and forth as they continued to walk in the same direction.

All the way to the love hotel, and then to the same floor, and then to the same room.

---

Kakashi and Sayuri hadn’t stopped bickering the entire time. Yamato had rarely seen someone who affected him as much as she did. The only person Yamato had seen Kakashi share these snipes back and forth with was, well, Obito.

It was the strangest experience Yamato had ever had. They’d set out to have something like a foursome and now the two extra guests were just insulting each-other. Looking at Ivy — should he think of her as Sora in his head now? She’d admitted that was her name, but it hadn’t been something she offered him, so it felt wrong — she seemed to feel the same. 

Feeling a bit helpless, Yamato said, “Well, maybe we should we just end this idea—” 

“No,” said Kakashi and Sayuri, almost at the same time.

A pause.

“He’s apparently such a Casanova,” Sayuri said defensively. “I want to see if that’s all talk.”

---

Kakashi and Sayuri needed to shower, and while they did that Yamato and Ivy sat cuddling on the bed.

“Kakashi called you Tenzo,” Sora said “Is that..?”

“That was my name,” he explained. “But not anymore. I changed it when I left the army. But people who knew me back then, I’m fine if they call me Tenzo. It’s a memories thing.” He smiled at her, drawing closer. “Yamato is my name now.” He paused. “But your name is Sora? Would your prefer I keep—” 

“You can call me Sora,” she said, decided. “I’ve wanted to tell you for a while. It was just — not professional.” She sighed. “Maybe I should thank Sayuri for giving up her name and mine and breaking about ten rules in half an hour.” 

A flicker of excited desire drifted through him at the words. Her name — her real name! — on his lips. Sora could see that in his gaze and her expression turned playful. She pulled him back onto the bed and fully on top of her, her robe opening so that Yamato’s naked body was flush against hers, just their robes flaring out on either side. They kissed, familiar and comforting, and Sora started to run her hand down Yamato’s chest.

“Do you think they’ll kill each-other arguing about who takes the first shower?” Sora asked softly. 

“I would say no, but who knows. Kakashi is normally very laid back. But he was acting differently around her than I’m used to…” 

There was a crash and a thump in the bathroom.

Yamato groaned and jumped up. “We leave them alone for one minute…” 

He strode to the bathroom. “Senpai! What are you—?” 

He had to trail off, when standing in the doorway looking through at what was inside.

The crash had been from the metal soap holder, previously hooked over the edge of the shower, now on its side on the floor outside the shower, all the soaps and creams also scattered there. The shower door was fully open, and mist unfurled through the door, water spray hitting the floor and bathmat beyond. Inside were Kakashi and Sayuri. Kakashi had Sayuri pressed against the shower wall, kissing her neck, one arm wrapped around her waist and the other pressing against the tiles behind her head. Her eyes were shut tight in an almost-angry desperation, and her fingers scrunched his wet hair tightly.

Yamato started to blush. He knew that watching the interactions of another couple was part of what he’d signed up for, but somehow being here, watching their intimacy firsthand, affected him even more than he’d expected.

“How are you feeling on the Casanova scale?” Kakashi asked Sayuri playfully.

“U-unfair experimental conditions,” said Sayuri. “It’s a shower. It’s naturally a sexual place!”

Kakashi looked up and stared at Yamato, and it was the sort of gaze that made his hair stand on end. Yamato now knew something of how Sayuri must be feeling. “Tenzo. Want to join?” 

“It’s not really big enough, Senpai,” Yamato said, stepping forward despite himself.

“Fair enough.” Kakashi kissed Sayuri’s lips, then said, “Shall we go and say hello to the others?” 

Sayuri turned the taps off, and now without the water raining down it was clear to see the flush of arousal on her face, eyes twisting from Kakashi to take in Sora and Yamato with a smile.

---

The kiss reminded Yamato of the last time, except that now Kakashi was entirely naked, body dripping from the shower, flush against Yamato, letting him feel all the muscles and — yes, his cock, jutting against Yamato’s own.

Perhaps a touch different, then.

He groaned helplessly, twitching closer to try and bring his body even further against Kakashi’s. Kakashi made a deep, satisfied sound on hearing him, sliding a hand down to cup Yamato’s ass. 

Yamato felt a body press behind him now, and he could tell immediately from the line of her curves that it was Sora. She leaned against his back and said, “Time to make you a sandwich,” and it was the cutest way of describing this ridiculously hot action that he couldn’t help his giggle.

“How about a burger double?” Sayuri responded, copying Sora’s lead but against Kakashi. “You two boys are the meat, and the two bun halves kiss?”

Kakashi snorted against Yamato’s lips. “That’s the least sexual analogy I’ve ever—” 

“Quiet,” said Sayuri. “Watch.”

She leaned forward past Kakashi, and Sora twisted past Yamato, and their lips met one another. They were both grinning while they kissed, Sayuri giggling a little. Yamato wondered if this was the first time these friends had done this together.

“You feel so soft,” Sayuri commented halfway through. “No stubble is heaven. I need to kiss more girls.”

“Is this like Icha Icha, Senpai?” Yamato asked.

“It might be better,” Kakashi admitted.

Sora and Sayuri broke the kiss, and then Sora turned to them. “Could you share him a little?” she asked Kakashi.

“Of course.” Kakashi shifted around the side of Yamato so that Kakashi’s chest was flush against Yamato’s back. “What did you have in mind?”

---

Kakashi ran his hands down Yamato’s chest, tweaking and twisting his nipples and following the line of his hips, while Sora rested comfortably on her knees, head tilted forward, tasting Yamato. She knew him so well by this point; understood exactly how to shift the pressure to make him moan, use the lightest touch of her hand like a skilled painter. Kakashi watched Sora’s approach and matched her speed and pressure with his fingers across Yamato’s body. Feeling both of them at once was a heady rush that made the blood pump through his veins and even quicker down his body. 

Sayuri was watching at first, but soon she slid behind Kakashi and grasped Kakashi’s cock, gently stroking it. Yamato could feel Kakashi’s breathing increase, his body stiffening, and the groan he let out, loud against Yamato’s ear.

It was too much, feeling his own arousal and Kakashi’s arousal and Sora’s care.

“I’m going to…”

Sora nodded, smiling up at him, and she was so beautiful, he loved everything about her, he couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have met her—

He came, gasping, with Kakashi hugging him tight from behind and Sora swallowing him down.

---

“Thank you for taking care of my kohai,” Kakashi said to Sora, when Yamato had taken some moments to recover and Sora and come up to standing. “May I taste him from you?”

Oh, boy.

---

The kiss between Sora and Kakashi was almost chaste, slow and polite and explorative, and yet still, somehow…

“This is like the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

It was Sayuri, standing next to Yamato, eyes locked on Kakashi and Sora.

“I know what you mean,” Yamato admitted. “When you like both of them, and then see them together…”

She furrowed her brow. “I don’t like — urgh. Okay. Maybe I do.” She sighed. “Sora should have never offered me this job. I’m terrible at staying professional.”

“Honestly?” Yamato said. “I’m glad it turned out this way. Thank you.”

She smiled at him, and then said, “You’re all she talks about, you know. I might be unprofessional on the job, but damn, she wants to be too.”

Kakashi and Sora had paused their and were now watching Yamato and Sayuri, both with clear desire in their eyes.

“Let’s take this to the bedroom?” Sora suggested.

---

At one point Sora’s phone alarm rang to end the session. 

Sora stepped to her phone, clicked off the alarm, and then put her phone in the drawer. She turned back, meeting their gazes in challenge, making no move to pick up her clothes, and Yamato felt the strongest wash of joy and excitement at the knowledge that this wasn’t going to end any time soon.

Given that Kakashi was pressed deep inside him, sweat slicked, shuddering with the force of holding back from spilling over, it would have been an awkward moment to stop in any case.

---

Yamato woke up with Sora in his arms, warm and peaceful, his body aching pleasurably.

Kakashi and Sayuri were asleep next to them. Kakashi was lying on his back and Sayuri was on her side, head was in his lap, hair streaming out across his chest, long-ago pulled out of its ponytail. Kakashi was awake. His eyes were half-lidded, watching Sayuri, expression imperceptible.

“Kakashi,” Yamato whispered, and Kakashi turned his gaze to Yamato. 

“Morning, Tenzo,” he said with a small smile. “I have to say, if this is how evenings at escort services normally proceed, I’ll be booking them more often.”

Yamato snorted. He looked down at Sora, still feeling awestruck that he could use her real name now, and brushed some hair out of her face. Her nose scrunched up adorably.

“You won’t get this at any other escort service, Senpai. This was an, er, unique experience. Even for me with Sora.”

Learning her name. Meeting her friend, and Yamato’s friend meeting her. Going past the allotted time, all through the night in fact. Waking up in each-others’ arms.

This was messy, now, the line between professional and — whatever else they were, or could be.

But this too would be a new experience, and after so many years fighting pointless wars, Yamato wanted to take everything good that life had to offer. He’d be honest with her when they had a moment alone, tell her how he felt about her. And then see just what the future would bring. 

#bp shortfic #love you nisi <333333333 #I'm sorry if this feels ooc I did my best but always nervous about writing others' ocs!

[butter--peanut]

📝

Boo

Oh hallo. <3 For you, the start of something that has stalled for a veeery long time, but hopefully I will one day get back to! Tobi & Sukea trolling each-other part 2, this time from Kakashi's PoV.

(send me a 📕 and I’ll send you a snippet of or idea for a wip!)

When Kakashi had listened to Tsunade’s mission request to conduct some information-gathering for a month and raised it to infiltrate the Akatsuki for as long as possible, he had been prepared for the worst.

He had thought that he might die fairly quickly. (The least bad in the list of potential negative outcomes: shinobi’s lives were short, one had to accept that death could come to anyone at any time, and it would be a good use to his life for it to be spent in protection of Konoha and the shinobi world against Akatsuki).

He’d thought that if he was found out, he might be tortured by Itachi again. The torture itself wasn’t a problem, but if it went on long enough, Kakashi worried that he might be unwillingly forced to reveal crucial information about Konoha. It had been a long time since he had participated in the dreaded ANBU torture-acclimatisation drills, and Itachi was the most skilled genjutsu user he’d yet come across. He hadn’t broken the last time he and Itachi fought, but Itachi hadn’t truly been trying to break him. (But he and Itachi hadn’t exchanged more than a few sentences in the past months, and Kakashi thought by now his disguise was relatively foolproof.).

He’d thought that he would be forced to kill children. (So far, not yet, thank the Sage.)

And even if none of these things eventuated — if he somehow managed to survive however many months with the Akatsuki until Tsunade recalled him or he gained some crucial piece of information and sent it onto them — at the very least, he thought that he would be faced with a variety of unpleasant criminals and murderers. S-rank nukenin didn’t tend to have the sunniest dispositions.

At least, he’d thought that at first.

“Good morning, Sukea!” Tobi sing-songed to him, laying down a bento box in front of Kakashi. “I brought us breakfast.”

“Good morning, Tobi.” Kakashi smiled at his teammate, then turned his attention to the food in front of him and blinked, confused. “We’re in the middle of a forest,” he observed. “How did you find a bento box?”

“Ah ah ah,” Tobi said, shaking his hand. “Now, that would be telling.”

And Kakashi didn’t bother to hide the slight eyebrow raise, because this was one of their games now, and it kept things very interesting. Tobi was hiding things, and Kakashi was hiding things, and now that both of them knew it, the fun was in teasing this missing information, like a carrot on a stick, just out of reach.

Kakashi had definitive proof that Tobi was acting — he’d always known it to some degree, but after the incident with the Kumo nukenin, he now knew that Tobi was very powerful behind his silly demeanour. Tobi was very intelligent. Tobi could make objects appear from nothing. And most impressively of all, Tobi could make himself impermeable, letting objects fly through his body at will. It was without a doubt the best defence that Kakashi had come across.

One evening when both of them were sitting around a fire, he’d tested Tobi’s ability, pressing his hand through different parts of his body, and photographing the resulting bizarre image. Tobi had seemed to love Kakashi’s fascination with his ability.

“Ooh, do Tobi’s head next!”

“I want to see how it works,” Kakashi said lightly, hand fully submerged in what would be his brain. “I feel like I’ve come to a stage magician’s show.”

Tobi’s head flicked toward him sharply. “Hey,” he said, sounding irritated, using his real voice.

Ah. A victory point.

Kakashi grinned widely. “Mah, Tobi,” he said, easing even further into his gentle Sukea tone to irritate him even further, “I’m just saying that this is an impressive trick you have.”

“It’s not just a fucking trick; do you have any idea of what I can do with—” he huffed, almost ruefully, as though acknowledging Kakashi’s success; shifted back, voice becoming high and whiny. “How can Sukea be so nice and then so mean to Tobi?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Kakashi said contritely, patting his shoulder. “Let me make it up to you. You can pick the next bounty when we reach the station.”

“Okay. I guess I forgive you.” And Tobi shuffled in, deliberately awkward, so that Kakashi’s arm was slung around his back, and sighed in happiness, as though immediately forgetting his resentment.

#bp shortfic #bp answers #new recruit #kakaobi #kkob #obkk #my struggle with this wip is to keep the lighthearted tone of part 1 while also progressing the plot... #but I do rully want to get back to it #oh and #sukea/tobi #unsure if I tagged that right oh well

[butter--peanut]

📖

Hiya! I doubt this will ever be completed, but for a while there I was writing an Obito-has-amnesia-and-turns-into-a-cat!AU. :D Here's the first chapter.

(send me a 📕 and I’ll send you a snippet of or idea for wip!)

It was night and there was pain. Pain, and fear, and — and a place that felt wrong, familiar yet not, buildings that were too large and streets that he saw from the wrong angle, and a body that didn’t obey him, that felt like his head was too far forward, simultaneously more and less stable than he was used to.

He didn’t know how long he’d been here, wandering these streets in the night, ducking away from the occasional footsteps and people that were huge; how had they become so large?

At last he reached a building that looked more familiar than the rest. He looked up, and up higher, and eventually saw an apartment window that called to him, although he had no clue why.

He leapt and stumbled against the wall and fell back down to the ground. And then, narrowing his eye at the wall, ran again and leapt, and yes, now this he understood, shaping his energy on the wall, so that he could run up it vertically, although he stumbled as he ran, uncoordinated with this unfamiliar body.

He reached the balcony he was seeking and went to the window; looked through; saw a shuriken-patterned bedspread.

He needed to get inside, but he didn’t seem to have hands in the regular sense, and there was no way to try and raise the windowpane.

He needed to get inside.

He pressed his body against the wall and felt his body stumble through the wall, and then he was in the room, with no idea how he had achieved this bizarre feat.

This room was far too big for a person, just like the world he had wandered through was also unnaturally large. He jumped onto the bedspread and curled up, and put his head in his hands, and smelt something familiar and comforting, and stayed there, not sleeping, still afraid, still completely fucking unsure about what had happened to him and where he was and who he was.

When morning reached the room, a face appeared at the windowpane. A man with silver hair and a cloth mask covering his mouth pressed his face against the window, and closed his eyes, and looked weary.

Kakashi.

He remembered one thing, then. A name. This person was Kakashi.

***

It was just past dawn when Kakashi returned from his mission. He nodded tiredly to Kotetsu and Izumo at Konoha’s gates, who barely glanced at him, sitting with half-lidded eyes sipping their hot coffees that made swirls of mist in the brisk morning air. Then he took to the rooftops, because although he barely had enough energy to shape chakra to support his leaps across the tiles, he had even less energy to suffer through conversations with perky early morning risers (Gai, who made regular laps around the village at this time, was sure to draw him into a conversation and attempted contest, and although he normally enjoyed contests with Gai, he just couldn’t. Not today, after a week-long mission. After this week-long mission). 

He reached the balcony outside his apartment window and leant his head against the window for a few moments, closing his eyes, trying to summon the energy to undo his barrier seals.

From inside his apartment, he heard a dim yowl.

Kakashi flicked his eyes open. On the other side of the glass, standing on the shelf that ran alongside his window, was a cat.

Had he come to the wrong apartment by mistake?

Kakashi looked around; checked the number of floors up and across. No, it was definitely his apartment.

He looked back through the glass. Yes, it was definitely a cat.

Why was there a cat in his apartment?

Gaining some energy through his curiosity, Kakashi released his barrier seals and opened the window, “Hello,” he greeted the cat from outside. “How did you get in here?”

The cat looked balefully at him and yowled again.

Kakashi slipped through the window into his apartment and turned to eye the cat again. It was big for a cat; bigger than Pakkun, although smaller than all of Kakashi’s other ninken. Is fur was mostly black, but there were lines of white along the right side of its face and dirty white patches across the right side of its body. It also only had one eye: a plain black one that was also on the right side of its face. And—

Kakashi sniffed the air and frowned. Then he looked closer, eyes now seeing through the dark fur what he had been able to smell easily.

The cat had been bleeding. There was matted blood on its neck, on its side, and even on its tail. He couldn’t see any sign of open injuries, and couldn’t see it favouring one side, but it had clearly got into some trouble recently to be covered in blood that hadn’t properly dried yet.

“What happened to you?” Kakashi murmured. “You look worse than I do coming back from a mission.” He reached out a hand — and then pulled it back quickly when the cat hissed at him and swiped out with a paw, its tail spiking up and all its fur standing on end.

Kakashi didn’t speak cat, but even he could tell that this was the Panicked, Aggressive pose.

Kakashi started at the cat and the cat glared at Kakashi.

Slowly, when the cat could see he wasn’t going to try again, its aggression lessoned, with its tail twitching down.

“I don’t know how I should help you,” Kakashi said to it eventually. “I’m a dog person, not a cat person. And all the dogs around me tend to just tell me what they want, in human language. Can you speak human language?” It wasn’t a completely stupid question. If the cat could get through his barrier seals, then maybe it was a Summon.

The cat meowed, then started, seeming a little surprised. It meowed again, then growled.

“No human language, then,” Kakashi observed.

The cat yowled again, sounding greatly dissatisfied.

“Can I — can I please touch you?” Kakashi asked. “To check whether you have injuries?”

It was probably a bit much to assume that a cat could understand him, but the only animals he’d interacted with recently were his ninken, so he wasn’t used to speaking to animals in any other way.

The cat looked at him for few moments, then took a tentative step closer.

Kakashi took that as a “yes” and reached out a hand slowly. The cat looked at him warily, but didn’t attempt to move, and then Kakashi was gently touching the blood matting the fur around its head, and then the rest of its body, searching for open wounds.

“You’re not injured,” he told the cat eventually. “You should be, though. You shouldn’t have healed this fast if you have this much fresh blood on you.” He snorted. “Unless you managed to kill something without gaining an injury to yourself and rolled around in their blood. But there’s too much blood to be a small creature that I’d expect you to catch. And somehow, you don’t look the type to kill a human.”

The cat shivered.

“So, why are you covered in blood without a scratch on you?” Kakashi asked.

All the cat could do was meow again.

Kakashi scratched it between the ears as he thought through this second curious occurrence, and blinked in surprise as the cat’s head twisted up to press in the direction of his fingers.

Aggressive, but also affectionate?

He really didn’t understand cats.

“Can I get the blood off you?” Kakashi asked the cat. “I know that cats aren’t supposed to like baths, but you would like to be clean, right? And you can’t exactly lick all of this off yourself.”

The cat didn’t respond, so he picked it up with both hands under its belly, and then quickly dropped it when it yowled again and scratched his arm with its claws. The cat fell, its limbs flailing wildly, and although it was only a metre from the ground it wasn’t able to land properly; it flopped onto the ground on its belly with one paw crunched underneath.

“That was a fair bit less elegant than I would have expected,” Kakashi observed, rubbing the new scratch on his arm with a wince.

The cat meowed again, stumbled to its feet, and looked angrily at him.

“If you don’t want to be picked up, then follow me,” Kakashi said mildly, and turned toward his kitchen sink.

Two steps in, he felt the cat jump somewhat ungainly onto his shoulder.

“There you go,” he said.

He walked with the cat toward the sink and popped the plug in and ran a half-tub of lukewarm water through it.

“Go on,” Kakashi said, pointing.

The cat leaned forward to peer off Kakashi’s shoulder, then unbalanced and careened forward, falling head-first into the water. It splashed the water wildly and then stuck its head out and wailed, and coughed, and eventually settled, standing in the sink appearing skinny with its fur wet pressed against its body, looking utterly betrayed.

“You did this to yourself,” Kakashi said mildly, and the cat hissed at him.

Kakashi took some soap from the bathroom and then washed the blood off the cat, who just barely put up with this treatment, and then let the water out of the sink and ran the tap like a shower and rinsed the remaining blood off its coat. Then he gently dried it with a hand-towel. Finally, the cat was clean, with hair now fluffy and sticking out in all directions.

He smiled at the cat and petted its head again. “There,” he said. “Wasn’t that worth it, to be clean?” 

It felt nice, after returning from a long mission where he had killed people, bringing his mind back uncomfortably close to his ANBU days, to perform a kind act for this strange creature in his apartment.

Then Kakashi sighed, went to his front door, and opened it.

“Okay,” he told the cat. “You’re free to leave now. Go on back to your owner. Or, if you’re a Summon—” he still wasn’t sure, because even though the cat couldn’t speak, it seemed to know exactly what Kakashi was saying, and surely that wasn’t typical cat behaviour, no matter how smart they were supposed to be— “please unsummon yourself.”

The cat gave him a very unimpressed look from its position sitting on the kitchen countertop, and then looked meaningfully in the other direction.

“I’m sorry, but you can’t stay here,” Kakashi said wearily. “I don’t know how to take care of you, and even if I did, I’m not around enough to feed you when you should be fed. You won’t be safe with me here.”

The cat jumped off the countertop, this time only wobbling a bit on its landing. It looked briefly at the door, and then it padded away from it, toward Kakashi’s bed, and leapt up onto it. It moved to the right of a suspicious dark patch and curled its body up on the bed. It watched him with wary eyes.

“You’ve left blood on my bed,” Kakashi commented, pointing at the dark patch.

The cat met his gaze, unapologetic.

And Kakashi couldn’t help but snort a little. Despite not caring a whit about cats in general, there was something about this one that was more interesting than most. It was familiar, in a way.

Familiar? What could he find familiar about an uncoordinated creature with short, fluffy black hair who seemed to always be angry with him and had one single eye, on his left side?

Well.

“Okay,” Kakashi told the cat. “You can stay for one night. Only if I get to name you.” He smiled a little. “Can I call you Obito?”

***

Obito.

Yes. For some reason, that felt right.

He looked up at Kakashi, so bizarrely large, but at least he knew the reason for that, and the reason was that Obito was a cat now, a fucking feline animal who couldn’t even talk to Kakashi to tell him that he should be human normally. Although he couldn’t remember much, he could at least remember that he was human, plus Kakashi’s name — and his own now, he supposed.

Kakashi somehow knew him from the past. Though not, from Kakashi’s sad and wistful tone, anymore. 

Well, when he finally figured out to get back into his body again, he could at least tell Kakashi that he was alive, and that would surely stop his annoying sadness.

First things first, though. He needed to and try everything that he could to regain his memory and find out what had happened to him.

Although Kakashi seemed eager to get rid of him — and for some reason, that dismissal also felt both painful and annoyingly familiar — he couldn’t allow that. He needed to stay close to the only point of familiarity in this world, this person who made him angry and comforted in equal measure.

#bp shortfic #kakaobi #kkob #obkk #I think this is a cute conceit but got super distracted with worldbuilding #cos I wanted this AU to have magic as well as chakra #and for Konan to be some epic wizard who cursed Obito when she found out he was lying to her and Nagato #and he can only break the curse when something something true love's kiss something something #anyway you asked for a snipped I sent a whole chapter lol

[butter--peanut]

For the requests, pirate A.U for kkob? I'm surprised no one picked it yet, pirates are fun! And, uh, if you're comfortable with it, maybe they could be genderbent? (like, in the mlm to wlw way?)

Or even if you're comfortable but just don't feel like it! No pressure on that, it's not technically part of the request!

Also! i really love your fics, they're genuinely so fun to read and reread, i think I've read all of the smaller works at least twice and definitely revisited chapters in all of them, they're just so well written, especially the characterization! Oh, and I love the priestess and Uchiha from the book in KB, they're really cute!!

Pirates are fun indeed. :D Thank you for requesting this, anon!

Trope request celebration fic 1: The Captains' Bet

Trope: Sapphic Pirates AU

Pairing: Kakashi/Obito

Summary: Kakashi had been captured by His Majesty’s Royal Navy ship ROOT, feared by all pirates who dared to travel these waters. But she wasn’t worried. She sat calmly lashed to the central mast of the ship, looking up at the clouds idly, waiting to win her bet.

Word Count: 1160

Some tags: Comedy; crack; Kakashi is a troll; Obito is so over her antics but has to put up with it bc true love

Ao3 Link: Here

#trope request celebration #kkob #kakaobi #obkk #bp shortfic #and thanks anon for the kind words it means a lot <33 #I'm so happy you love the priestess and kunoichi they are very close to my heart

[butter--peanut]

Getting close to finishing Pitch Black means I’m reaching the end of my word document where I stash all my deleted story snippets, and today I happened to find this little smut segment that never made it into the story that I’m quite fond of. It can live here as a deleted scene. :)

E-rated, Obito/Kakashi (+ Kakashi’s clone). Set in Chapter 9, in their early liaison period, when the ghost would only come to him as a clone because the chance of Obito trying to kill the real ghost was too high. Obito has just been on a mission where he didn’t have time to see the ghost. Now he’s back in Konoha. 

“Oh fuck, get over here,” Obito growled at him; and then the ghost was there, and Obito grabbed his shoulders and slammed their lips together, and fuck, yes, he’d missed this so much; a week was like torture.

“You,” Obito said to him, hearing the possessiveness in his tone, and feeling it in the way his hands gripped the ghost’s shoulders. “You’re mine.”

“Yes,” said the ghost immediately, and gasped when Obito ripped open his stupid robes and pressed him back against the bed.

From habit, Obito flickered out his sensory ability. Then he snorted.

“Did you realise that you are watching us right now?” he asked the ghost.

A pause.

“I didn’t know, but I’m not surprised,” the ghost admitted. “I don’t think I would be able to wait until I had these memories. I’m very — greedy, when it comes to you.”

“Urgh.” He pressed a hand under the ghost’s shirt, finding the line of his abdominals, trickling his fingers down. “You’re so fucking kinky.”

“…Apart from the first kiss, all of the experiences with you are memories,” the ghost explained. “The real me never gets to be with you. I know that you’d try to kill me if I let tried. So this is the closest I can get. To watch you, with me, and imagine what it would be like, and wait for the memories to arrive.”

Obito felt a pang at that; ridiculous, really, when he definitely didn’t owe the ghost sympathy. But still…

Obito gestured with his hand toward the window where the ghost would be able to see through. After a moment, the ghost disappeared, then reappeared, standing several metres away.

“You want to watch, right?” Obito said. “Now you have a better view.”

[Making out between Obito and Kakashi’s clone that I didn’t write. Eventually the ghost clone starts sucking Obito off and] the real ghost groaned, pressing a palm against his trousers.

Obito gestured him forward. “Kiss me,” he ordered, breathless. Then, feeling the pause from the ghost on his knees, and the hesitation from the real ghost, he said, “I won’t try and kill you right now. I promise. You know I would never go back on a promise.”

The real ghost came forward tentatively, while the clone watched, unmoving.

The real ghost leaned across the bed and pressed his lips gently to Obito’s. This was familiar to both of them, but there was something unique about knowing that it was him, not a clone, alongside a very guilty pleasure that Obito was absolutely not going to do anything about it, not this time, that had Obito moaning into his mouth, and the ghost echoing him, leaning closer, wrapping his arms around Obito’s body.

The clone started to lick him again now, and fuck, this was so hot, one ghost’s lips on his cock and the other on his mouth, and two sets of hands running up and down his body, both with bliss, with reverence.

#bp shortfic #Pitch Black