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gfguren · 1 year ago

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iruka x reader x kakashi | fluff, angst, !suggestive in parts, self-indulgent and way too long (i’m sorry lol), im in love with iruka and it shows | cw: cursing

-iruka gives you everything kakashi never could-

It's strange, that feeling in your stomach - all butterflies and cartwheels abound. It makes you sick almost, makes you want to run and hide and destroy the one thing that finally makes you feel whole again. Damn those fluttering feelings. They'll turn to wasps one day, they always do.

But there he is again, disheveled hair and stars in his eyes, holding your hand and promising he'll never hurt you. "Iruka," you whisper.

He smiles, wrapping his arms around your torso. He's warm as always. "Something you need?"

You shake your head, resting your chin on his shoulder. His sweater smells of your detergent and you sigh; sharing your life with him still feels strange sometimes but you cherish it - and him, and all the sweet, fluttery memories you've made together. "It’s nothing."

He hums in understanding and you hold him a little tighter, taking a peek at the book in his hand. It's a cheesy romance and for the first time in a long time, you think of him. Him with his wily white hair and crooked smile, and words that you so desperately wanted but never received.

You wonder why the words "I love you" were so hard to say. Sometimes you still get whiplash when Iruka whispers them against your lips, so honestly and sweet. Was it so wrong to want to belong to another, to yearn to spend your life with him, as his? Was it too much to ask from the man you loved so deeply once?

It must have been - for him to disappear like he did - to vanish from your life like a flash of lightning, so exciting and beautiful and gone, just like that. But Iruka was there to lull you back, like thunder rumbling in your soul, letting you know the storm was passing bit by bit; and when it cleared he was there by your side, in place of the man who left you behind.

It was hard at first, to trust another, to let yourself fall into the insecurity of loving someone once more; because now you knew you could lose him just as easily. But Iruka eased that fear, with hands that's intertwined in yours so easily, with eyes that looked at you like you were his universe, his eternity.

You've nearly forgotten the way you looked at Kakashi, like he put the stars in the sky, nearly forgot the night he packed those very stars away, along with the moon and left your sky a muted grey - but that book, hanging so innocently from Iruka's fingers brings them flooding back.

And suddenly you're back to that night and Kakashi's in your bed, beneath your sheets with your arms wrapped sweetly around his middle in the hopes he'd hold you back this time.

But he wouldn't, he never did.

He flips through the pages, attention solely on the book instead of you and all you can do is pout, shifting to peer over his shoulder. A blush creeps up your neck at the lewd words scrawled across the page, somehow embarrassed as if he hadn't bent you over the kitchen table less than an hour ago, the food you spent half a day cooking easily forgotten. But you muster your courage, he would be leaving tomorrow - back to Konoha - and you didn't know when you'd see him again. You hope he'll leave marks this time, proof that he was here at all.

"I'm right here you know," your fingers grip his bicep but he doesn't respond, nonchalantly flicking the page over. "Kashi-" You're startled when you find yourself beneath him so suddenly, wrist in one of his steady hands, the other on the small of your back.

"I know." He lowers his mask and you admire his bare face in the flicker of a moment before his head dips to press his plush lips to yours. "You're very distracting."

"Is that a bad thing?" You breath softly.

He only smiles, hand creeping beneath the material of your shirt to softly caress the curve of your breast. You arch into his touch, quiet whimpers swallowed by his lips. It's almost sweet, the way he holds you, and you wrap your arms around his neck, pretending he's embracing you, pretending he's confessing his love for you - you know he's in love with you, the very same way you are with him. But he'll never admit it.

Neither to you, nor himself.

And you fall into this fantasy, so deeply that the words you know you can never say tumble from your lips faster than you can catch them, pouring through your fingers like water through a sieve.

"I love you, Kakashi."

He freezes, turns to ice, eyes locked in the far corner of the room, and then he's gone. Your gaze follows him around the room, tongue searching desperately for the words to say as he collects his clothes from the floor.

"Kakashi." He doesn't say a thing, just pulls up his mask and throws his shirt over his head. "Kashi, please. I didn't mean it, I-"

The smile that pulls at his lips startles you, silencing your babbling in an instant. "Sorry. I forgot I have an errand to run before returning to the village." He grabs his bag from the end of the bed before reaching over to pat the top of your head. "Don't wait up for me, okay?"

Something pulls at your chest when he turns his back to you, despite his unwavering smile. It's different than all the times before, the fear squeezes your heart, makes it hard to breathe, and you find yourself searching for any excuse at all to make him stay, but all you can manage is a pathetic, "Don't leave me."

He hovers in the doorway, and you'd have sold every bit of your soul to merely glimpse at the thoughts crossing his mind in those few short moments, because he disappears from your life after that. Which isn't so strange at first, he’s a busy man after all.

But a year passes, and then two, and eventually you give up, accept that he left whatever strange, fragile thing the two of you had behind for you to sort through all on your own. And you do a poor job of it, but you accept it, giving up on ever seeing him again.

Until work leads you to Konoha, and you try, god damn it all, you try not think of Kakashi but you search for him in strangers' faces and linger a little too long around the places he'd mentioned in passing. And you know he can sense your chakra, he'd always said it was unique, though you're not a shinobi at all.

Still, you cling to the hope that he doesn't expect it, that you catch him off guard and you reunite like star crossed lovers, or that he missed you so deeply in your time apart that he confesses his love in such desperation that all he can do is hold you, as if he's afraid you'll disappear.

The same way you did for him, and it's all kinds of pathetic and melodramatic, you know.

You push your noodles around the bowl, anything to distract you from the hustle and bustle around you, because the moment you look up, you'll search for Kakashi's stupid face, in this stupid restaurant, in this stupid town - and damn it all, you just want to enjoy your sake in peace for one night.

"Do you mind if I sit here?"

You startle at the man's voice beside you, waving him off in a subtle 'whatever' before returning to your poking and prodding. "What crime did those noodles commit?"

His voice is kind and gentle, and his stupid joke is for your sake, not his; but you're not in the mood tonight, rolling your eyes and lifting your glass for the third or possibly thirteenth time this evening, you really can't remember.

"I've been told I'm not funny before but this is an all time low for me." He laughs and you finally lift your gaze to catch the way his head tilts, hand rubbing the back of his neck, and your annoyance simmers, just a bit. He's cute, at least, with tan skin and a mysterious scar across the bridge of his nose. "I'm Iruka, by the way."

You consider offering your own, but you don't - leaving a silence as deafening as it is awkward.

He coughs dryly, "Am I bothering you? Sorry."

"Your jokes could use some work," you muse. "But you're easy on the eyes, at least."

You catch the blush that creeps up his throat and colors the tips of his ears, and you can't stop the laughter that bubbles up your throat.

It's been a long time since you've found yourself so easily and completely enamored with another, not since - since - your drunken stupor leaves you hazy, lost on the name.

"Kakashi."

Right, since Kakashi.

Wait.

"Late as usual," Iruka sighs.

You want to say it's the screeching barstool, and the waitress’ cheery, lilted voice that draws your attention across the bar. But it's not. It's the white hair and dark eyes that are the same as ever.

He seems tired, more worse for wear than you remember, and a small, selfish part of you is glad that you're not the only one. But more than that, the part that still loves him is worried, still; and you hate yourself for it, wishing you could cut that part of you away, like it’s the half of a photograph you no longer wish to keep and set it alight, burn it to ash.

You realize you're staring, blatantly so, and he's not looking at you at all. He knows you're there, you're sure, and that hurts you even more.

Tears burn your eyes and you slide a tip beneath the empty drinking glass, keen on leaving before they fall. You stand to leave a little too quickly, swaying precariously on your way up and Iruka is quick to steady you, hand gingerly tucked beneath your elbow. "Careful now."

Instinct kicks in and you start to pull away, but you catch Kakashi's gaze suddenly locked on you, worry creasing his brow, and you're angry, angry that he still has so much power over you, angry that he has the audacity to watch over you still, and the anger fills you, fills you until it spills over and you're grabbing the stranger by the collar and sweetly keening up at him with a softly babbled, "Mm, don't feel good. Can you take me home mister?" His face is beet red at the implication and you grin, making sure to croon his name softly as you press against him. "Pretty please, Iruka?"

His nod is a hesitant one and he's gentle about the way he steadies you, one hand on your elbow and the other hovering over the silhouette of your hip, just in case. It's so incredibly respectful and sweet, and the guilt almost creeps into your conscious - almost - but Kakashi's eyes are still on you, and the anger washes the guilt away in single, sweeping wave, disappearing within the tide.

"Raincheck?" Iruka sheepishly mumbles and Kakashi finally pulls his gaze from you, waving him off with a nod.

You're nodding off by the time you reach the door to your room, shuffling the inn key into Iruka's hand; though you'd have probably thought better of it had you been sober, and not teetering on the edge of passing out in the stranger’s arms. But you trust him, oddly enough, as he all but carries you inside, gently placing you atop the freshly made bed. Taking one look at your disheveled state, he sighs, disappearing into the bathroom.

You sit up, clumsily pulling the jacket from your shoulders before tossing it over the chair in the corner. It falls to the floor, and you groan, flopping over on the bed, too tired to care.

That’s a tomorrow problem.

You're startled when a warm washcloth is pressed against the palm of your hand. "You should wash your face before you sleep, at least." Iruka's voice is soft and you watch curiously as picks up the jacket, folding it neatly before placing it atop your luggage. Your curiosity deepens when he opens the mini fridge and pulls out a bottle of water, placing it on your bedside table. "And try to finish that before you sleep." He sets the key to your room beside it before heading towards the door.

"That's it?"

He turns halfway, just enough to catch the bewilderment sweeping your face. "That's it?" he repeats, a lilt of confusion in his voice. "Ah," he hums, returning to switch off the light to your room, leaving the illumination to the soft light of the bedside lamp. "Sleep well."

The smile on his face is one of innocence, it's so different from what you're used to. And you want to catch it, keep it by your bedside table, like fireflies in a jar.

But he's gone all too quickly, shutting the door with a soft click.

Konoha is entirely too hot, you’ve always thought so, still it’s better than the dark, cloudy skies you grew up under. But your days in this scorching hot village are waning and you're searching the crowd whenever you find yourself wandering through town, though it's not for Kakashi - not anymore.

And unlike Kakashi, who was a ghost hiding in your shadow, Iruka is so easy to find.

Maybe it's his laugh, warmer than the sunshine on your skin that draws you in, lulls you close until you're standing before him, hand raised in an awkward, half wave. He seems to perk up at your approach. "You're a lot friendlier when you're sober, I see."

You roll your eyes, but you're not annoyed, his quip is as playful as it is deserved. "Thank you for the other night - Iruka, was it?"

"You remembered, I'm honored. And frankly surprised too considering you couldn't stand straight." He grins and your heart skips a beat. "Do I get the honor of learning yours this time?"

You're a little too quick to give it away, afraid it comes out desperate, but Iruka repeats it, rolls it over his tongue like candy and it makes you feel almost comfortable, safe falling into the vulnerability. "Are you busy?"

He seems a bit taken off guard but plays it off with a smile. "Why? Need an escort again?"

You laugh, leaning in just to make him squirm, to watch the red color his ears. "I was thinking we could get dinner, actually."

"I would love to." You're a little too happy about it, which makes it all the worse when he finishes with a sighed, "but I can't, I have to work late tonight."

"Oh." It's a pathetic sound, though you try to play it off as nonchalant.

"I'm free tomorrow." He's quick to soothe your disappointment. "And I make a mean Udon soup, if you're interested."

You can't help but laugh, as if that's something to brag about. "Do you offer that to all the girls you meet?"

"Only the pretty ones." A blush creeps up the nape of your neck, and it feels silly, juvenile even. "And you're one to talk, as if you didn't ask a complete stranger to take you home."

"That's because-" Kakashi's visage creeps into your mind and you're quick to shut your mouth. "It just happened that way, it's not like, a habit or anything. Promise."

"I know." He smiles and you feel your worries dissipate like snow melting beneath the sun's enduring watch. "Just be careful, is all."

“Oh?” You’re clearly scheming, grinning when you take a step back, following up with a taunting, “If I’m careful, I suppose I’ll have to turn down that infamous Udon of yours.”

“Did I say something? I suddenly don’t remember.” A laugh bubbles past his lips. ”I’ll be seeing you tomorrow then.”

Your laughter follows suit.

His soup is perfectly fine, you suppose, but you’re much more interested in how cute he looks with his hair down and the apron still tied loosely around his waist, salivating at the thought of taking his hand and leading him to the little couch tucked in the corner of his apartment and-

“So, how was it?”

“Mm ‘as fine.” And maybe it’s because you drank a little too much, it’s not like you could have turned up empty handed, and well, you couldn’t let such an expensive wine go to waste when he didn’t seem all that interested in it. You make a mental note you’ll probably forget by morning to expand his palette, teach him to live a little, momentarily forgetting you won’t be around long enough to do so anyway.

“Just fine?”

“Mhm,” you tumble forward, barely catching yourself on the wooden tabletop. Worry creases his brow but you only laugh. “‘m fine, see look.” You do a little twirl, well - a half twirl, and a full dramatic fall, saved only by his quick reflexes and strong arms. “W-oah.”

“Alright,” he sighs, lifting you carefully, gently like you’re a fragile, precious thing. And it makes your heart flutter. “I think it’s time to get you home.”

“but ‘m not even drunk.”

“I’m sure,” he laughs. “Let’s say it’s because it’s late then.”

“Iruka,” you whine, keening up at him and you see him start to crumble. “Iruka,” your voice is hot against his throat, alcohol on your breath and hearts in your eyes. “I-ru-ka.”

“What?”

He’s folding, you’re sure, and you grin, sly as a fox. “Just a lil longer, hm? Pretty pl-ease?” He sighs and you have to suppress the laughter bubbling up your throat, confident that you’ve got him wrapped around your finger. “Knew you-”

“No.”

“Huh?” You’re sure you must have heard him wrong, sure the alcohol must be messing with you. “No?”

“Let’s get you home for tonight, yeah?” His arms fall away from you and he turns away to help collect your belongings.

You’re sure you’ve never been this embarrassed in your life, he’s rejected you not once but twice and hot tears begin to well in your eyes. “Thought you said I was pretty?” You’re entirely dejected, picking at your fingers. “‘’m I not pretty enough?”

“You’re very pretty.” Iruka doesn’t miss a beat, quick to set the record straight. The last thing he wants to do is make you cry. “But you’re also very drunk and-” He hesitates, worries the skin of his bottom lip.

“And?”

He sighs, making his way back over to you. “I know Kakashi’s the one in your heart, that you’re doing this just to get under his skin.”

“You... knew?” You’re taken aback, the shock sobering you almost immediately. You scramble for an explanation, the hows and whys, but it only makes your head hurt. “Did he tell you?”

“He didn’t have to; it was obvious.”

“Is that why you took me home that night?” Your sadness turns to anger, embarrassment, indignation. “Because you pitied me?”

“If you’d asked before Kakashi showed up, I probably wouldn’t have taken you home.” Your hands shake, you feel stupid, trusting him, leaning on a stranger so easily, so naive; but even worse is the fact that you know the way you used him was worse. But Iruka does what he’s best at, lulls you in, soothes you, dissipates your worries before they take shape. “But if given the chance, I’d have certainly asked you on a date.”

And makes you feel hopelessly guilty.

“I’m sorry.”

You can’t even look at him, counting each crevice of his worn floorboards. His voice is soft, kind, like he’d accept any and all mistake you’ve made, every way you’ve ever slighted him. “For what?”

“For using you that night, I just-” You shake your head, swiping angrily at the tears spilling down your cheeks. “I just didn’t want to look pathetic in front of him. But I was sincere about everything else, and-” You sigh, stealing a glance up at him. “It’s not that I want Kakashi I- I just- damnit.”

The sobs fill you to the brim, wrack your frame until you’re helpless. You thought you were done crying over him, but it still stings, no matter how many times you tell yourself it doesn’t.

Iruka is hesitant, gentle about the way he reaches out to wipe the tears from your cheeks. “I always figured he was the type to make pretty girls cry.” He pulls you in, holds you steady but it’s useless, like trying to embrace ripples in the water. You only become more inconsolable. And he tries something out of pocket, reckless, stupidly bold and so unlike himself. His soft lips slant over yours and reality snaps back into focus, and you’re staring up at him, like deer caught in headlights. “I wouldn’t - at least - I’ll try my best not to. If you’ll give me that chance, that is.”

You blink slow, answering him with your fingers in his hair and lips back on his.

Your remaining days dissipate, flash before your eyes like stars shooting through the sky and you cling to them like a wish you know won’t be granted, in the end. It hurts, to gain something so precious just to have it taken from you so abruptly, unjustly.

At least you’re used to it.

And if the skies and the stars and the heavens won’t grant you that wish, you suppose you’ll just have to make it a reality yourself.

And you do, returning just long enough to finish your current contract and pack your things, finding work and a cozy little apartment on the edge of Konoha. It’s a bit silly, you realize, dropping everything for a stranger who could leave you in the end, burn you the same way you’d been before. But you figure you wouldn’t miss a thing about the cloudy, overcast skies of the Mist anyway - not to mention the memories that linger like smoke, seeping through your windows and closing up your throat.

Konoha is still warm when you return, teetering on the edge of Autumn, and Iruka is there to welcome you, making sure your arrival is warmer still. And he’s quick to help you unpack, settle into your life like you’d been there all along. It makes you sick at times, like coming down from a sugar rush and you’re almost reluctant to indulge.

But he lulls you in, holds your hand and kisses your lips so sweetly that you can’t help but fall into him, for him, even if it scares you - that vulnerability. And when he tells you he loves you that very first time, you’re reeling, fight or flight kicking in and it’s the way his soft brown eyes steady on you, hold you down and pull you back that makes you stay, convinces you to trust his words are true.

Though it’s years before you truly do, years of confessions and promises and proclamations of love and, god he must be a saint to be that patient with you, because you struggle to reciprocate, still, even though you’re sure he’s the one in your heart, even though you love him so deeply you’re scared you’ll break if one day he decides he doesn’t feel that way anymore.

And all you can do in the meantime is let him hold you, the very way he is now. A book in one hand and his self-proclaimed world in the other - you.

A subtle knocking draws your mind back to the confines of reality, where you're still cozied up in Iruka's arms, but you notice he's tensed, the page between his fingertips frozen mid-turn. You look to the door then up at him, trying to read the mixed expression on his face.

He opens his mouth only to close it again right after, as if he's hesitant to say what's on his mind, scared that it'll hurt you. His voice is quiet when he finally mutters, "It's Kakashi."

There's a heaviness in your chest and you can't place why exactly until you find yourself burying your head in his shirt, arms wrapping tighter around his middle, hoping that he can feel just how much you love him. "And what about it?"

He's gentle about the way he sets the book aside and takes you by the shoulders, prying you away just enough to meet your gaze. "You should talk to him."

You pout, crossing your arms across your chest, and it’s childish as hell, you know. "Mm, don't want to."

"My love," he sighs. "You don't have to but-" He hesitates, chews the inside of his cheek. "Sometimes it feels like you struggle to love me, like you put distance between us the second I think we've finally grown closer. And I-" You can feel his sadness in the way his fingers tighten around your shoulders. "I can't help but think it's because of Kakashi."

You're speechless, you can't even deny it. He can always read you like an open book.

"Please talk to him, if not for yourself then for me."

You hesitate but ultimately resign with a nod. "You're sure you're okay with this?"

He smiles, a genuine one that puts your heart at ease. "I'm sure."

Your legs shake when you stand but you straighten your back, making sure your head is high when you open the door. The confidence you hoped to exhume vanishes the moment you lock eyes with him, instead you just feel empty.

"How did you know I was here?" is all you ask, it's all you find yourself wanting to ask. You don't care where or how he's been, and it doesn't strike you as odd either. He doesn't answer, just stares, hands nonchalantly in his pockets. You sigh, "Did you need something?"

"Iruka's inside?" It's not a really a question, you're sure he can sense his chakra the same as Iruka sensed his, still you answer with a nod. "Then he doesn't know?"

"Know what, Kakashi?" You have an inkling but hold your tongue anyway.

"That we..." His words fade, dissipate as if he's waiting for you to fill in the blanks, and you can't help but wonder if that's a habit you taught him. "You know."

He smiles, eyes crinkling and head tilting to the side; it’s so fake it makes your stomach turn.

"No, I don't know. That we what?" Your words are snappy, though it's not your intention. "That we were in love once? That's not how I remember it." You cross your arms over your chest. “But yes, I suppose he does know.”

The smile never leaves his face but you catch the way it falters, trembles at the edges and becomes a little tighter. “Do you love him?”

“What?”

“Do you love him?” he repeats, taking a step closer.

You take one back.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“Do you love him? If not-” His smile gives way, brows creasing in way that startles you, playful facade morphing into that of dead sincerity. “You can come back to me, at any time. You know that, right?”

You have to stop yourself from laughing in his face, instead you turn to go back inside.

"I love you."

It's rushed, desperate and so unlike him, but you know he means every word, that he’s scrambling to catch you before you’re too far gone; but you’d reached that point a long time ago. You turn back to face him, regarding the way his eyes search your face for any hint of reciprocation.

You're sure he doesn't find any.

"I know." His shock and confusion couldn’t be clearer, he must have thought he’d fooled you, completely, that those words would lull you back like magic. "You think I didn't know? You think I would have stayed by your side if I thought you didn't?"

You knew him all too well, knew that he loved you, and knew he could never act on that feeling, because the second he said it, it would become tangible, real, and you would become yet another thing that he could lose. Still, you poured, poured, poured your love into him, as if it would wash away all the memories that haunted him.

Instead - it washed him away, past the bridges he burned and the dams he built to keep you from becoming someone precious to him.

And if it hadn't, if he'd stayed, you would have continued to love him, pine for him like the fool you were, desperately begging for whatever scraps of affection he deigned to give you.

"Don't leave me." He breathes, a quiet whisper that you almost miss. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

It's everything you wanted to hear for all the years you loved him and all years you missed him, and yet when you reach, and reach, and reach into the furthest depths of yourself, past the flowers Iruka bloomed in your heart and the butterflies he nurtured deep in the pits of your stomach, you find nothing for Kakashi.

He's too late.

"But I don't, not anymore."

He reaches out to you, for you but you pull away, close the door, and return to the man that you love, and not even for a moment do you stop to wonder how Kakashi's heart has just broken. Because it’s not your burden to bear anymore.

You're so deeply in love with Iruka -

His gaze is soft when you approach and he places the book he was reading face down on his lap. "Are you okay?"

You nod, a smile finding it’s way across lips as you slip your arms around him. "I love you, Iruka."

He sighs against the top of your head, returning your embrace. "I love you too, darling."

- and he loves you just the same.

#kakashi #iruka #naruto #naruto x reader #kakashi x reader #iruka x reader #naruto x you #kakashi x you #iruka x you #naruto x y/n #kakashi x y/n #iruka x y/n #barely proofread bc ive been staring at this fic for a month #i love her but she's yours now #feed her water her give her enrichment im tiredt

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