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lemony-snickers · 2 years

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chapter three. >> part two here.

Title: Helping Hands (part 3 of ?) (AO3 Link Here) Chapter Summary: The Lord and Caretaker settle into their new arrangement, but the shadows of the past remain always in their periphery. Chapter Word Count: 5,867 Chapter Warnings: alcohol use, implied sexual content, NON-CONSENSUAL VOEYEURISM, character death (canonical), implied violence, fem!MC .

Iruka Umino grew up in a loving household; his father and mother were hardworking, diligent, and precise in everything they did.

And everything included doting on their only child, a boy born with tan skin, dark, unruly hair, and the most beautiful smile either of them had ever seen. Iruka had been a troublemaker as a young child, pulling pranks on his parents at every opportunity. He soon grew out of it, though, when he was old enough to begin following his father out on deliveries. The work they did was vital—delivering food to the many great houses that existed beyond the village limits was important work, and those who performed such duties well-regarded.

Iruka realized he was lucky to know he would one day take over his father’s business; one day be the person responsible for feedings his friends and neighbors and their families.

When he first began delivering to the Hatake Estate, Iruka hated it. The climb was steep, his horse irritable and frothing by the time they made it to the top of the drive. Lord Sakumo Hatake was kind, but strange, and Iruka was never quite sure how to interact with the man.

But the pretty face of the woman who was most often in the kitchen when he made his deliveries helped a little. His ears turned pink when she smiled at him, patted his shoulder. She was kind and easy, not stodgy or easily irritated like so many of the other Housekeepers and Maids he usually dealt with.

He would duck his head and scratch his nose, a nervous habit he developed when he first received the scar there—an unfortunate incident of a horse bucking as he attempted to saddle it when he was a teenager. He’d picked the scab over it so many times that he continued doing so long after it finally healed and the itch abated.

Iruka’s parents could not have known that sending their son to make deliveries on his own would one day have such a profound impact on his life. They noticed, of course, as parents were keen to do, that his deliveries on Wednesdays began to take more and more time, that he would return flushed and happy from his stop at the Hatake Estate.

At first, they worried a little, unsure about who might be there taking up his attentions; after the man who owned the house had died, they heard no rumors of an heir come to take ownership of it.

But then one week a young woman came into their shop in the village, cheeks rosy and hair whipped into a frenzy from her ride, to ask if it would be possible to make some last minute alterations to her upcoming grocery delivery. And as they spoke with her, they noted how easy her smile was, how gentle her laugh, how polite and kind she seemed.

They no longer worried for Iruka, even if perhaps they should have. Of course, what parents could be blamed for not seeing what might be in the heart of the person their child loves? They were blinded by Iruka’s naked affection, and it induced in them a belief that those same feelings must be returned.

For who could not love a man as sweet as Iruka?

Mrs. Umino knew she shouldn’t fall prey to gossip, but she found herself unable to hold her curiosity at bay forever. As she took the strangely robust order for delivery the following day, Mrs. Umino asked quietly, “Is someone expected at the house?”

The woman’s mouth curled up at each end. “Lord Kakashi has already arrived—unannounced—in the middle of the evening,” she whispered, leaning forward conspiratorially.

The older woman could see immediately why her son was spending so much time atop the steep hill where the Hatake Estate was nestled, and she could not blame him.

If she were a young man, she imagined she would be just as stricken with admiration for the woman in charge of the house as her son appeared to be.

Iruka’s mother said nothing to him of Lord Kakashi’s appearance, choosing to allow him to stumble upon the information himself when he made his usual ride up to the Manor. Even when he knit his brows in confusion at the large order and asked about its provenance, Mrs. Umino and her husband—whom she had made privy to the information the preceding evening—only shared a conspiratorial glance and shrugged.

Young love, of course, is a fickle thing. But that was a lesson Iruka would have to learn in time and on his own; his parents were powerless to prevent his heart from being handled carelessly. And the woman he gave his to was incapable of returning that love to him in a way that meant anything—even if she perhaps wished that were not the case.

Still, they continued to meet in the stables after that first time, Iruka and his parents oblivious to the impending disaster.

Every Wednesday, as always, Iruka would complete his other deliveries, leaving the Hatake residence for last. Once he brought the groceries in, he would sneak away to the stables either to wait for the Caretaker, or to find her there already waiting for him.

Her skin smelled like the dry hay they laid on, her mouth tasted like apples when they ripened in the fall, like strawberries in the summer. She felt soft and beautiful in his hands, the way her body arched against his made his mind reel, his heart race.

And he knew he was in love.

Unbeknownst to either Iruka or his lover, the Lord of the mansion the stables belonged to continued to watch them through the cracks in the wood.

Lord Kakashi knew he should be ashamed of spying, but the exhilaration was too great to deny. And though he tried to tell himself he did not seek them out, he knew there was no other reason to account for his newly-divined habit of taking an afternoon walk following his tea, which somehow always managed to bring him close by the stables on Wednesday afternoons.

Sometimes, he only listened—the soft rustling of the hay and the Caretaker’s skirts, the gentle plucking sound of their kisses, the high whine held in her throat as Iruka touched her and the soft grunt when he finished.

Upon one such occasion, Lord Kakashi did not leave quickly enough. Not expecting the Caretaker to jump up almost as soon as Iruka had finished, apologizing for her abrupt departure, but telling him she was quite behind schedule with her chores for the day as she fixed her hair and adjusted her dress.

Iruka, though he was a bit confused, smiled and told her not to worry. She leaned down to give him a kiss on the forehead in thanks and Kakashi realized that where he was standing would be directly in her path back to the house.

He scrambled to appear as if he were only just now walking by the stables, but she was quicker than he expected, and only a moment later, they were face-to-face.

“Oh! Lord Kakashi,” she said, stepping back. Kakashi watched as she swallowed, and though he heard Iruka scrambling out of the hay, he had the decency not to react, even when her panicked eyes flicked toward the stables in response. “Did you need something?”

Lord Kakashi cleared his throat, striving for normalcy out of respect for her dignity as well as deference to his own. “I thought I might… go for a ride,” he said, rather unconvincingly.

Her eyes widened, concerned he might find his way to the stables before Iruka had time enough to leave himself.

She stalled, “I did not think you normally rode in the afternoons.”

Lord Kakashi, aware of her tactics, smiled and took another step closer. “That��s correct, though as Lord of Hatake Manor, I imagine I am allowed to alter my schedule if I should so choose.”

“Yes!” she said, a little too loudly, hoping to camouflage the sound of Iruka climbing into his saddle. “Of course! I just did not think you usually had occasion to be near the stables at this time of day.”

Lord Kakashi grinned, feeling emboldened for reasons he could not pinpoint. Perhaps it was the way her hair was still a little lopsided and obviously tousled from her activities, or the fact that he could clearly hear the pounding of the horse’s hooves as Iruka departed, which left her grimacing.

Whatever the reason, he leaned forward and said, “I find many occasions to be many places, some of them far more intriguing than others.”

With that, Lord Kakashi turned back toward the house, leaving the Caretaker to stare after him in shock. Because suddenly there was no doubt in her mind that Lord Kakashi knew about her encounters with Iruka in the stable—knew them to be of an indecent nature. The smirk he had sported as he spoke said so plainly.

But what startled her most was that while she knew she should feel violated at having been discovered—and perhaps even watched—in an intimate position by the man who owned the house for which she worked, she did not.

Instead, she found all she felt was… exhilarated by the prospect.

Lord Kakashi felt much the same as he retreated into the house, heart still racing from his bold confession.

It had been a very long time since Lord Kakashi found himself in any intimate company and the noise of the young lovers tangled together in the afternoons had always tugged at something in his gut. He missed the feel of another in his bed; wished, perhaps, there was someone he could call to the stables with him.

Not the Caretaker, certainly, but someone.

There were no such companions to be found, however—neither in this land nor the one he left behind. And so he satisfied himself with spying on others’ romance. Satiated his desire to enjoy another’s flesh by reading dirty romance books in his bed at night and calling forth the memories he stole from the stables to satisfy his errant urges.

To live through others must suffice, he told himself. He was not cruel enough to expect anyone to tether their life—their destiny and happiness—to a man still broken by his past, still anchored in the losses he had suffered.

Sometimes, he thought of Rin Nohara and he wondered if they could have built a happy existence together. He wondered if one day their shared grief would no longer have sliced between them, keeping them apart, but wound around them like a blanket against the chill of winter.

He wondered, but it mattered not how often he thought of her.

Rin Nohara was dead, as was her fiancé Obito Uchiha. Both killed by Kakashi’s own inadequacy. Each remained a bloody, broken specter in his dreams, dark red stains on his pale hands.

Kakashi Hatake, at the moment he came to visit his father’s Estate for the first time, was incapable of being the sort of man who could love or marry. His heart had been torn into too many small pieces by the agony of his losses, the precious people who had fled his side into the afterlife.

When Obito Uchiha was washed out to sea, foot caught in a line that should have been secured under his Commander’s watchful eyes, he had taken much of Lord Kakashi with him. His superior officer, his friend, had let him down, sent him to his death. Lord Kakashi watched as Obito’s body flung over the side of their ship, as it rattled and bounced against the wood. Obito’s body was pulverized beyond recognition before it plunged into the sea, beyond Lord Kakashi’s grasp. The wounds the commanding officer had received in return—rope burns over his hands and a searing slice over his eye that nearly blinded him from the line as he attempted in futility to grasp it, to reel Obito back to safety—seemed hardly severe enough admonishment for the misfortune. It was in the wake of that loss that Lord Kakashi took leave from his command to deliver the news to Obito’s intended himself. A beautiful girl with dark brown hair and lovely, warm doe eyes named Rin Nohara.

The last words Obito had ever uttered, as he spilled over the rail of the ship to be broken apart and plummeted below into the dark, inescapable depths, had been, “Take care of Rin.”

(At least, these were the words Lord Kakashi heard. It is impossible, however, to know for certain whether Obito said anything of the kind. The roar of the waves and the storm, the sharp crack of splintering wood, were so loud that not a single curse could have been truly understood over the whole of it. In truth, it is more likely Lord Kakashi simply made up the exclamation as a way to punish himself—one final wish of a dead man to anchor himself to. The problem was that such an anchor may not always be a matter of safety, but sometimes decimation.)

But either way, with those words carved into this heart, Lord Kakashi had endeavored to honor his friend’s last wish. His salary went almost exclusively to Rin’s care—securing her a future and a home as she grieved in agonizing solitude for the man who was meant to be her husband. Once medically and honorably discharged because of the damage to his eye, Lord Kakashi returned home and brought Rin with him, promised himself to her in Obito’s stead—as if he could ever truly be a replacement for the man who had so loved her and whom she had given her heart to willingly rather than from necessity and obligation.

When they were married, Rin cried and Lord Kakashi knew it was not from the happiness of their arrangement.

They had stayed in separate rooms, at his suggestion, and Rin seemed in no haste to be his wife in any way but name. Lord Kakashi, perhaps foolishly, but undoubtedly in desperation, sought other companionship in her place. He spent many long nights drinking and gambling with his tawdrier naval acquaintances, often deciding to hire companionship for an evening or two to satisfy the persistent, lonely ache created by the empty space in his bed.

If he had known what a delicate thing Rin had become in the wake of Obito’s untimely demise, perhaps he would have been more careful. But he was angry, bitter; the loss of his father and his best friend, the marriage undertaken out of sense of duty and not of love, all took their toll. And he made mistakes.

When hadn’t he made mistakes?

Lord Kakashi had not grown up with firearms, but had come to know them in the course of his naval service. He was naturally good with both pistol and rifle, though he preferred the first given the option. He had never discharged his weapon during his time at sea, except to shoot at birds occasionally as the ship he commanded listed on the water waiting for a better wind.

After he left his post in the Navy behind, though, with his left eye half-blind and his mind no longer as clear or precise as it had once been, Lord Kakashi struggled to hit targets—living or clay.

He would often, in those days after his doomed marriage, invite friends to shoot in the afternoons before they undertook their evening plans of gambling and drinking.

He was never drunk when he shot—refused to be because of the danger. Especially with his eye, Lord Kakashi had to concentrate for his aim to be even within range of the clay pigeons or straw men they used for practice.

His discharge revealed itself to be a mercy; Lord Kakashi’s subordinates and peers would laugh at his calamitous attempts to fire his weapon if they could see him try his hand at target practice with his damaged eye.

And then, one afternoon just like all the others, he and his friends had undertaken a few hours of shooting as they often did. They’d been at it for quite some time and the sun was beginning to bow behind the horizon.

"Should we go, Kakashi?" someone asked. He didn’t even remember who the voice belonged to, even as it rang out clear and loud between his ears. The lack of a title meant it must be one of his less dignified acquaintances, though that might have been true of any man on the lawn that day.

Before he could agree it was time to take their leave, something caught Lord Kakashi’s attention, moving just beyond the tree line, and so he shook his head. “Just one more, I think,” he said, lowering his weapon toward the bird flitting between the branches.

He shot, cursing when he missed. But he had at least been close enough to send the creature flying from the branches along with a thousand others—a flock of silent birds once hidden in the shadows revealed in an instant, loud and frenetic as they took to the sky. Lord Kakashi followed the great flock’s movements, gun trained on the massive, synchronized group of birds as it raced away into the deepening sunset. Their screams were high-pitched, panicked.

He would never forget the sound.

“My Lord?”

Bang.

He fired, but the shot rang wide because of his damaged eyesight. He lowered his weapon, gritting his teeth at his inadequacy as not a single bird fell to the ground. The flock soared off into the distance, undeterred by his firing, a thousand pairs of fluttering wings beating through the air. And still, he did not realize the magnitude of what he’d done.

It was not the sound of Rin’s body hitting the grass, but the noise of her choking, gasping breath as the blood pooled in her lungs, that finally dragged his attention away from the stupid birds.

Rin Nohara, coming out onto the lawn to ask if he and his friends would like to stay for dinner at the house, had been pierced by his errant bullet.

His own eyes could not have possibly discerned the way she leaned to the side in order to effectively intercept his aim. Lord Kakashi had no way of knowing that Rin had plodded back and forth along the hall of their shared house for long hours, watching the men in the yard, looking for one she knew could not possibly be among them.

Rin had no way to tell her husband what darkness truly laid in her heart, nor would he have been capable of hearing it if she had made the attempt. So lost were they in their individual grieving, swept away in their regrets and misfortunes, they never could have found their way to one another.

That his wife took a bullet from his own weapon was indeed a great tragedy, but Kakashi Hatake would have lost his wife one way or another eventually, no matter the means. This truth did nothing to ease the pain of the moment, however, nor to assuage the dark shadows of the deed as they followed Lord Kakashi into the future.

Rin Nohara’s heart stopped as she lay in her husband’s arms, coating his hands and his clothes with blood he would never be able to wash away, no matter how often he cleaned them. It took him two days to scrub the sticky red residue of her final moments from beneath his fingernails, the buttons of his jacket; three more than that to bury her and return her belongings to her angry, grieving parents.

And only a week longer for him to flee in his father’s wake, carrying himself and his dogs an ocean away to a house on a hill in the rain, running from every mistake he’d made as if the ghosts he created could be slowed by the ascent of the hill, by the crashing of the waves against the hull of his ship.

If destiny were a thread, Lord Kakashi’s was frayed, tiny fibers stripping off, reaching out toward unattainable destinations. Perhaps his thread was twined with others, where they fell away, he picked up in their stead, tracing their path with unsteady footsteps until the end of the fiber.

He followed that thread into the Navy, followed his father’s path as far as he could before he was afraid he might plummet over the edge of the earth.

He followed Obito’s thread after he drowned, then his father’s again after he killed Rin.

The threads were so braided and knotted, now, it had become entirely unclear to him whose destiny he might yet be tracing.

The Caretaker did not believe in destiny—she hardly believed in thinking to the next day unless it was for work. She woke each morning, completed her duties, fell asleep, and did it again. That was enough. It had to be.

Iruka believed destiny was a person. And in his heart, he came to believe that person was the woman who laid with him in the hay, let him tangle his fingers through her hair after they had tired themselves with their love making. He loved settling his ear against her chest, listening to her heart’s slow, melodic rhythm.

He wondered, sometimes, if she felt even half the same. She seemed more than willing to hold him, to whisper loving words against his ear—even if none of them was ever love itself—but she was always keen enough to remind him when it was time to leave, to send him away with a wave and a smile instead of a tender touch or kiss on the cheek.

Even before Lord Kakashi had arrived, a certain distance remained. A distance which yawned wider in the wake of the young Lord’s removal to the Hatake Estate. Iruka did not miss the fleeting glances between the two and often, perhaps erroneously, wondered where the Caretaker’s attentions might fall on afternoons that were not Wednesday.

It was this fear that might have pushed him toward his decision with greater force than necessary. And Iruka’s parents spurred him to make his intentions fully clear, to tell the women who held his heart to what extent she did; to ask her the only question that mattered. But Iruka was afraid he already knew the answer, afraid it was clasped tightly within the silver locket around her neck, which she had never opened or spoken of in his presence; or that it might be hidden in the strange tilt of Lord Kakashi’s mouth whenever he watched the two of them exchange orders in the kitchen.

Though Iruka was correct in thinking her heart belonged elsewhere, he could not have known to what extent—and never would. Only those who have suffered losses of the heart can fully comprehend them in another.

As Lord Kakashi settled into his new home, so also did it settle around him. The floors that once protested against the thundering paws of his dogs eventually adjusted, the chair he favored for reading quickly took an indent that molded to his form, holding him firmly in place when he relaxed against the cushion, which he did often.

Kakashi Hatake was a voracious reader, happy to fold himself into the chair at any time of day when he did not have other duties to attend to and peruse his late father’s library. He left his more lascivious reading—the tawdry romance novels he coveted so—for his bedroom, where no prying eyes might accidentally rove across the pages.

The Caretaker offered to clean his room, change his bedclothes, but the young Lord declined, too embarrassed of what she might find if he was not careful to keep it secreted away.

She thought the arrangement very strange indeed; she had never worked for anyone who stripped their own bed and left the sheets outside the closed door for her to pick up and launder. Nor did she ever meet a man until Lord Hatake himself so willing to get his hands dirty and calloused in his own home.

Lord Kakashi hammered and sanded, he rehung the crooked shutters and greased the door hinges.

“We should really hire a proper staff now that you’re living here,” she said again. But as happened every time she mentioned doing so, Lord Kakashi waved away her complaints.

“Unless you are planning to leave, we don’t need anyone else.”

She huffed, but accepted his response until the next time she brought it up and he gave her the same answer.

Things continued like this for long weeks. Lord Kakashi rode his horse in the mornings, after taking his breakfast. Where he went, the Caretaker did not know, but he returned always appearing rather irritable and she prepared his afternoon tea without any polite chatter, serving it to him in his study where he sat with his dogs between her cleaning duties for the day.

And the house, in all its strangeness, formed around them, the rugs wearing in the hallway where Lord Kakashi paced in the evenings. His dreams often woke him, peeling open his eyelids with an urgency he could not ignore. And the Caretaker frequently heard him scream or shout in his sleep. Sometimes, she would wake when his door opened and she heard him wandering the house, muttering to himself quietly.

On more than one occasion, she found him asleep in the parlor the following morning, sprawled in his favorite chair with the smallest of his dogs—a pug she now knew to be named Pakkun—curled against his chest, a book on the floor where his grip had loosened on it.

On such mornings, the Caretaker simply created a little more noise as she made her way to the kitchen to prepare their food, allowing Lord Kakashi the dignity of rousing himself and returning to his bedroom to change before they officially greeted one another for the day.

Often, she would ask, “How did you sleep?”

And without fail, he would always reply, “Very well, thank you.”

Though she knew it to be a lie, she would never dare to ask any further, even as she knew she would soon hear him traversing the halls in the dead of evening again, almost like a ghost pacing through the rooms; as unable to leave as he was incapable of resting.

And just as she never mentioned that she at times heard him shout in the night—that his voice would crack like a whip through her dreams to rouse her—Lord Kakashi never mentioned that he sometimes found her standing outside on the grounds, fingers playing delicately with the locket balanced against her collarbone while she stared down the hill, over the rolling green grass toward something he could not see.

It was upon one night such as this, however, that their paths intersected.

Kakashi startled awake from a nightmare. It was a merciful thing. He dreamt that Obito pulled him beneath the dark water with him, limbs tangled together in a deadly embrace, like a nure-onna come to claim him for the depths.

When he finally broke free and kicked his way to the surface, he swam long leagues to the shore and climbed up on the sand, belly scraping over the beach as he dragged himself to land. And as he turned to sit up and looked out at the horizon, it was to discover Rin’s body, brown hair fanned as her corpse bobbed languidly in the waves, blood spiraling into the water around her, soaking the sand where the sea met the beach.

So waking had been a mercy. He streaked his hands over his face, wiping the sweat from his brow and his nose, rubbing his eyes until his vision half-cleared enough for him to make out the snoozing dogs around him, to see the outline of the wardrobe and the posters of his bed; the still-covered mirror.

He wandered the halls, as he always did. Aimlessly, without purpose.

When he made his way to the parlor, just as he was about to collapse into his favorite chair to steal a few hours of fitful sleep only to wake with his back and neck aching from the awkward position, something beyond the windows caught his eye.

The Caretaker stood in the yard, wind whipping at her night dress as she stared out over the unseeable grounds.

Lord Kakashi should have left well enough alone—he knew that. Knew it would be prudent to climb into his chair and pretend he’d never seen her just as she pretended she did not hear him wandering the halls or find him sleeping in the parlor.

But the way her skirt and her hair fluttered in the breeze reminded him too much of how Rin’s had undulated in the waves of his nightmare and he shivered. He needed to make sure she was okay.

The Caretaker noticed his approach long before he met her in the grass. Rather than acknowledge him, she chose to tuck her locket away beneath her night clothes and pinch her robe together at her throat, to protect both privacy and modesty.

“A little late for a stroll, isn’t it?” Lord Kakashi asked as he came up next to her. He maintained a safe distance, almost enough for two other people to stand between them if they wanted. She welcomed the jibe with a self-aware smile, a breathy chuckle almost lost to the breeze.

“I suppose you would know, my Lord, given you are walking also.”

He hummed, throat tightening at the address. Though he understood it to be his proper title, he had disliked it ever since that fateful day on the lawn.

Hearing Rin Nohara’s last words repeated endlessly as a formal and polite address felt like a cruel punishment of the gods.

Realizing he had lost himself in his thoughts and left her response unanswered, Lord Kakashi cleared his throat to shake the grief from his vocal cords. “Not by choice,” he said.

She knew as much. Though she did not expect him to elaborate, she felt that curiosity pulling at her same as it had on nights when she heard him scream down the hall.

“Trouble sleeping?” she prodded gently, but all she received in response was another hum and so she left it.

“What about you?” Lord Kakashi asked after another long silence stretched between them. And then he revealed, “I’ve seen you out here on other evenings, though none quite so late, I think.”

She ducked her head, smiling. Of course the Lord of the Manor had noticed her late night walks; the man spent more evenings awake than not. Still, she found herself embarrassed to have been caught out.

Instinctively, her fingers went to the small lump beneath her clothes, the locket nestled safely against her sternum. “Coming out here reminds me of someone. Someone I like very much to remember.”

Lord Kakashi’s sight was damaged and the darkness of the late evening did not help, but even he could discern the movement of her fingers and know that whoever she was referring to likely resided in that locket and nowhere else.

Not on the living plane, anyway.

Whoever she was thinking of lingered somewhere in the afterlife. Perhaps with Sakumo or Obito or Rin.

They stood there together for a long time, until both of their toes were frozen through.

“Can I escort you back?” Lord Kakashi asked, cordially offering her his arm.

Her eyebrows flew upward, eyes widening. He realized in that moment the move was strange—that someone of his stature was not supposed to offer her his arm.

But when had the social conventions of this strange place—or any other—ever stopped him from doing what he felt was right? Never, and this evening would be no different. Kakashi Hatake was precisely himself every place he’d ever been and in every company he had ever kept—for better and far worse.

“There’s no need, my Lord,” she said, but her companion did not lower his arm.

Rather, he smiled wickedly, knowing she was in no position to refuse him if he pressed the issue. “I insist,” he said, bowing his head.

The Caretaker grit her teeth, recognizing his tenacity for the teasing it was, as she reached out and looped her arm around his. She inclined her head and thanked him politely, and he led her back to the house.

Looking back so much time later, they each would realize that perhaps this small gesture, this innocuous evening was what might have precipitated all that came after, even if none of that would be clear for many moons, yet.

Once they entered the house, the Caretaker removed her arm from Lord Kakashi’s and was about to make her excuses to leave when he offered her a drink.

“A brandy, if you will? I’d hate to drink it alone.” She swallowed, about to decline. “Nothing will chase away the chill like a warm brandy,” he assured her.

Though her excuse weighed heavily on the tip of her tongue, she also knew he was right. Her fingers and toes felt like they’d been carved of ice and the thought of stoking a small fire and warming herself with a brandy before returning to bed was quite welcome.

Seeing her desire to say yes, LordKakashi took the option from her by saying, “Start a fire, if you please, I’ll get the glasses.”

And so it was the two of them sat in comfortable silence, sipping a snifter each of warm brandy while they thawed their feet by the gentle flames of the parlor fireplace, sitting opposite each other in the comfortable armchairs they each preferred for reading.

Though that night was the first they passed in such a way, it was hardly the last. Following that event, the Lord and Caretaker of the house on the hill grew strangely closer. Not in any noticeable way to those who might see them by chance when calling at the Manor on business.

Iruka did not notice any change in the air when he arrived that Wednesday, when she kissed him in the stables. The man who delivered the post, carrying with him weather-beaten letters from Lord Kakashi’s home, did not detect any variation in the man’s demeanor from other days when he had called at the house.

But late at night, the two would often find their way to the parlor to enjoy a finger of brandy or gin in companionable silence—one or both of them might read a book by firelight—before the Caretaker retired to her room for the evening.

Sometimes Lord Kakashi followed soon after, climbing into his bed in search of sleep. More often, though, he whistled sharply and Pakkun ran down the stairs to join him on the chair where he would rest his eyes until the sounds of breakfast being prepared roused him in the morning and he dressed for a new day.

#🍋 mix and match #lemony scribbles #kakashi hatake #kakashi x reader #fem!reader #historical au #historical romance au #tw alcohol #tw character death #chidori as actual birds lmao #long-winded historical au clusterfuck #iruka umino #poor iruka honestly

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galaxychaos78 · 1 year

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Loser!boyfriend Headcanons

this is the sweetest man ever you are not allowed to disagree

he kinda floats from one friend group to the other, but when he started to notice he wasn't really "part" of any of the friend groups he was in, he just stepped away from them all.

the two of you met when Professor Iruka asked you to tutor the blonde and the rest was history. people were always whispering about you hanging around "the uzumaki loser" but you paid them no mind. soon your tutoring sessions went from studying the material to studying how to make naruto uzumaki a puddle in your hands.

you're way more popular than him, so everyone was mad confused when you walked onto campus holding hands with him one day. and when people asked what the hell you were doing holding hands "with the uzumaki guy" you'd tell em' all the same thing.

"i'm holding hands with him cause he's my boyfriend." (naruto's a blushing mess every time you told people)

he follows you around like a lost puppy, sky blue eyes always glancing about. (he's anxious and you're the only thing that soothes it).

he doesn't have a lot of money, but he makes up for it by being crazy attentive to your needs and wants. you're stressed from classes? he's cuddling with you and putting on your favorite movie. you're angry about something and need to vent? he's all ears. also knows where the good cheap eats are around town and saves up money every now and again to treat you to dinner.

gets distracted a lot, especially when you're talking to him. he can't help it, you're just so pretty.

he was insanely nervous meeting your friends for the first time & you assured him that Sakura, Ino, Gaara and Sai were really nice people. when you all got together, they all took notice at how quiet he was and Sakura was the first person to ask him questions about himself.

by the end of the night, your nervous wreck of a boyfriend was laughing and high fiving Gaara and Sai after beating the three of you in a very heated game of Pictionary.

he starts to come out of his shell, showing off the high energy and positive personality you fell in love with. (so much so that other girls start to take notice at how cute "that loser Uzumaki" is).

poor boy doesn't even realize he's being hit on half the time until he tells you about how the nice Hinata girl from his history class asked him what his favorite food was and was recommending that the two of them go out sometime, and you had to politely explain to him that she was asking him out on a date.

takes him a sec to get it, but once he does he's turning down any and every advance from any girl that isn't you. "Ah sorry! I'm gonna be late for a study session with my girlfriend so I can't go out with you!"

loyal baby 💕💖

how this man is considered a loser, you'll never know.

Kiba didn't exactly float between friend groups like Naruto. he was just kinda of there; people knew of him but that was about it. he mostly kept to himself and, in turn, made himself kind of a loner.

the two of you met at a nearby KBBQ restaurant. your friends had flaked on getting lunch with you and you noticed Kiba sitting outside of the restaurant.

"Kiba right?" poor boy couldn't fathom that you were talking to him. "this might be really awkward and you're ok to say no...but would you wanna get lunch with me? my friends completely flaked and-"

"yes." the two of you spend hours getting to know eachother and when its time to pay the bill, you grab it before he has a chance.

"I would've paid.." he says with a pout that you find utterly adorable.

"I know, but this is on me. You can pay for our next date." (homeboy ends up looking like this😳😳😳)

another date turns into 2, then three, then soon you've got him seeing heaven everytime you stay over in his dorm.

absolutely loses his mind when you call him your boyfriend for the first time. the two of you are out shopping and you see a jacket that would look nice on him. he tries it on and you hug him from behind and say, "Man I'm so glad to have such a handsome boyfriend.."

his brain stops working and he freezes for a few seconds because holy shit he wants to kiss you so hard in this fucking department store. once y'all leave and get to his dorm, he's practically begging to hear you say it again.

"Say it again..please. Call me your boyfriend again." cue makeout session

Kiba absolutely loves cuddling with you. if he's playing a game, he's leaning back against you while you play with his hair. If you're watching TV, he's got his arms wrapped around your waist and his chin on your shoulder. even when you sleep over he wraps himself around your body and loves waking up early to pepper your face in kisses.

when you guys go out, he's always touching you; arm around your waist or holding hands. he loves being the one to hold you and it boosts his ego to see guys glaring at him in jealousy.

lets you pick your favorite hoodies of his because they look so much better on you than him. also will buy some small trinket or little stuffed animal to gift you just because it reminded him of you.

is the first one to say "I love you". he was running late for his class and as he checked his pockets and grabbed his bag, he gave you a quick kiss on your lips before muttering, "love you babe." and rushing out of the door. literally doesn't realize he said it until he's in class and blushes bright red.

he checks his phone after class and sees a text from you that has his heart skipping a beat.

(Y/N): didn't even let me say it back dummy. love you too😘💕

quiet, mysterious and a huge loner is what people say when you ask about the black haired ponytail man that sits right beside you in your History class.

he's an interesting one; barely takes notes in class and you've caught him sleeping a few times as well. and yet, every test and report that comes back to him shows a bright red A in Professor Asuma's handwriting.

you didn't get the chance to actually speak to him until you were paired up in Professor Kuranai's photography class. you could hear a few of the guys in your class mutter and groan about not getting you as a partner, and to be fair Shikamaru didn't exactly look excited to be paired with you.

the two of you were tasked with photographing nature and, to your surprise, shikamaru knew a lot of hidden gem spots; going to the local park and taking shots of blue jays in the trees, a secret river in a nearby forest. the two of you even went so far as to take a train out to the countryside the day after it rained to get shots of the giant rain clouds.

plus, you two got to know each other really well. soon he wasn't the quiet loner that slept in your History class, but your intriguing and handsome Nara Shikamaru; the same Shikamaru who let you steal bites of his food and the same Shikamaru who gave you his jacket even though he was also cold.

calls you all sorts of pet names as soon as y'all start dating. but as soon as you hit em with a "hey babe, what answer did you get for question 4?" he's blushing and gripping his notes tight. (you really wanna make him flustered, call him sweetheart or my love)

will give any excuse to stay in bed with you. wanna go out for food? he's already ordering it for delivery. wanna go out a see a movie? he's loading up Netflix as you speak. you need to go shopping for new clothes?....well maybe he should go with you just to see how it looks.

pairs up with you for any and all projects. he'll never admit it, but the idea of anyone else (guy or girl) working with you makes him jealous. your his and that's that. he even gets you both matching rings because of it. "just...want everyone to know you're taken.."

this man absolutely adores cuddles and loves eskimo kisses even more. loves waking up to you in his arms and nuzzling his nose against yours. loves his cuddles so much that he can and will not let you go no matter what.

"Shika, I gotta pee." "Too bad."

100% has a secret notebook filled with all of your favorite things; snacks, your drink orders, your favorite food from all the restaurants y'all order from, which shops you go to for clothes.

he just really fucking loves you💕💖

#can you tell I really put my heart and soul into this?#naruto shippuden #nara shikamaru x reader #naruto uzumaki x reader #kiba inuzuka x reader #kiba inuzuka #nara shikamaru #naruto uzumaki #naruto shippuden x reader

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