Kakashi Oneshots Book 1

The morning arrived slowly, stretching itself across the room in soft gold and lazy warmth. The window blinds diffused the early light into glowing stripes that painted the bed in soft lines of sun and shadow. The kind of light that begged the world to slow down, just for a little while longer.

You opened your eyes to silence.

No urgent knocks on the door. No dogs barking. No cursed alarm pulling you out of the warmth of the covers. For the first time in what felt like weeks, there was nothing waiting to be done.

Except… him.

Kakashi lay beside you, still fast asleep, sprawled on his stomach with his face turned toward you. His silver hair was a wild, fluffy mess against the pillow, sticking up in every direction—so unlike the carefully styled image the village usually saw. You let your eyes travel across his peaceful expression. His mouth was relaxed, lips slightly parted, his brow unfurrowed for once. The ever-present mask and forehead protector were gone, tossed somewhere on the nightstand the night before.

No armor. No disguise. Just Kakashi.

And Man, was he beautiful.

Not in the glossy, poster-boy kind of way, but in the raw, unfiltered way that made your heart ache. There was a quiet strength to him even now, in sleep. You could see it in the way his shoulder blades shifted as he breathed, the muscle definition along his bare back, the scars that told stories he rarely spoke aloud.

His arm was slung carelessly across your waist, as if even unconscious, he refused to let go.

You didn’t dare move. Not yet. You just lay there, watching him, trying to absorb every second of this rare, fragile moment.

Because you knew how fleeting it was.

He was usually up before dawn sneaking out with that shinobi quietness, slipping away to train, or report in, or disappear into whatever ANBU business he rarely spoke of. Sometimes he left a note. Sometimes he didn’t. But he always kissed you goodbye, no matter how tired or distracted he was. You always felt the press of his lips on your temple or the soft brush of his fingers through your hair.

But today was different.

Today, he was still here.

Still warm. Still breathing beside you. Still holding you like he didn’t want to be anywhere else in the world.

Your fingers twitched with the urge to touch him, and after a long moment of resisting, you finally gave in just barely brushing a lock of hair from his forehead.

He didn’t stir. Just sighed, deep and content, the kind of sound that made your chest tighten.

You traced his jawline with your eyes sharp and defined even in sleep. His lips were plush, slightly chapped, and parted just enough that you could feel his breath against your cheek. The scar over his left eye caught the sunlight, a thin silver thread running down from brow to cheekbone. You remembered the first time you saw it, the day you realized just how much pain he had carried before you ever touched his life.

You reached out and let your fingers hover over his cheek without making contact. You didn’t want to wake him. Not yet. There was something sacred about watching him like this unguarded, vulnerable, and entirely human.

“I wish you could see yourself like this,” you whispered, voice so soft it barely stirred the air. “You’re always so hard on yourself… always hiding behind that mask.”

And not just the physical one.

Kakashi wore masks of every kind dry humor, sarcasm, distance, silence. Layers of protection wrapped so tightly around him that most people never got past the surface. But you did. Not because you pushed, but because he let you. Slowly, quietly, night after night, he peeled back the layers until he was bare like this just a man who loved you, with all his flaws and fears and broken pieces.

You rolled to your side, facing him fully now. Your hand rested just inches from his, and for a moment, you simply watched the way his chest rose and fell with each steady breath.

There was a strength in his stillness, you realized. Not the kind built from missions or muscles or survival, but something deeper. A strength born from choosing to love, even when the world kept trying to take things away. He had lost so much friends, mentors, pieces of himself but he never stopped giving.

And somehow, he had given you his heart too.

You didn’t always understand it. You didn’t feel special or extraordinary. But whenever his arms were around you, whenever he looked at you with those soft, tired eyes you believed. You believed he saw something in you worth staying for.

“Do you have any idea what you look like when you sleep?” you murmured, inching closer. “It’s ridiculous, really. You’re supposed to be intimidating, Kakashi Hatake. The Copy Ninja. And yet here you are… cuddling your pillow like a big, sleepy dog.”

His lips twitched. You blinked, surprised but he didn’t wake.

Still… that little grin tugged at your chest. Maybe he wasn’t fully asleep. Or maybe he was just dreaming something good for once. You hoped it involved you.

Your hand moved on instinct now, gently grazing his arm his skin warm under your fingertips. You traced the curve of his bicep, the firm shape of it telling you just how strong he was, even at rest. You slid your hand down to his forearm, rough with old callouses, then back up to his shoulder where a scar peeked through.

You leaned in slowly, pressing your lips to that scar in a soft kiss.

His breathing shifted just slightly, and his arm around your waist tightened for a second before going still again.

You didn’t move away.

Instead, you nestled closer into him, resting your forehead against his. His nose brushed yours, warm and familiar, and your heart ached with quiet affection.

How many times had you longed for a morning like this? Where time didn’t matter. Where the world outside could wait. Where you weren’t forced to say goodbye before you were ready.

You let out a shaky breath, overwhelmed by how much you loved this man.

“I’m glad you stayed,” you whispered into the silence. “Even if it’s just for today.”

Kakashi stirred again barely but this time, one eye opened slightly, red and still hazy from sleep.

You froze, your heart skipping a beat.

He blinked at you, slow and lazy, like his brain was still catching up. Then he smiled.

A real smile.

“Caught you staring,” he murmured, voice gravelly and warm.

You smiled sheepishly, brushing your nose against his. “You look peaceful. Couldn’t help myself.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, already closing his eye again. “That’s dangerous.”

You laughed softly. “Why?”

He shifted closer, burying his face into the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. “Because I might start thinking I deserve it.”

You wrapped your arms around him, holding him tightly. “You do,” you whispered into his hair. “You deserve all of it.”

He didn’t respond. Not with words, at least. But the way his arms tightened around you said enough. The way he breathed you in, held you close, and stayed there safe in your arms meant more than any words ever could.

So you held him.

As long as the sun stayed soft, and the room stayed quiet, you stayed right there with him. Watching. Breathing. Loving.

Because for a man who’d spent a lifetime running, this was the rarest thing of all:

Stillness.

And for once… Kakashi Hatake chose to stay.