#itachi imagines

[uchihaxitachi]

Well well.. the elusive and bastardly son returns.

oh and i wondered what suddenly happened to my placid surroundings.. nice to see you too, orochimaru.

[uchihaxitachi]

Itachi.. is it really you?

*rin approached him genuinely in shock that she was seeing him again, as if he would leave again if she hurried*

Itachi glanced at Rin, it had been all four seasons that passed in his absence. He wasn’t sure why he had left, but he’s always been leaving. He left Konoha, he leaves Akatsuki. Confusion and disappointment floods his veins. “Rin.” He wasn’t sure whether to add an honorific or not. “…san. Have you been well?”

[itaskz]

"Everyone asks Itachi Uchiha to be something: the perfect son, a ruthless shinobi, the savior of his clan, a spy for the village. No one ever stops to look at the boy behind the red eyes.

Except Sora.

She doesn't have a functional Byakugan to see through him, but she has the patience required to decode him.

There's only one problem, itachi is Izumi's first love... Right? What if Izumi is Sora's first love at the same time?"

I'm currently translating my most popular Itachi Uchiha fanfic into English and publishing it on AO3. It’s already close to 200k views on Wattpad, so I hope you'll enjoy it!

If you'd like to check it out, you can search for "Empty Byakugan" by Nanis21 on AO3, or follow the link pinned on my profile.

[nail-art-no-jutsu]

Itachi x reader thing from two years ago, unpublished till now, in which you can't sleep and he helps with that

imagine you've been helping Itachi get some well deserved rest recently

one way or another, you two just end up sleeping close together

and you kind of have a blurry relationship with him, you're not sure just what you two are, but you're actually okay with that

one night... it just so happens you're the one who can't sleep

you had a nightmare, and you heard that if you get up for just a minute or two your brain will forget about it, so you did that, and you got back into bed taking extra care not to wake Itachi

except now you can't fall asleep again

and what's worse...

"Are you alright?" Itachi asks, and you sigh

"I didn't mean to wake you up, sorry about that."

"No worries, but please, tell me, what's wrong?"

you flop on your back and Itachi supports himself on his elbow to look at you, and even though it's dark, you feel like he can see right through you

he begins to kiss your face all over, your forehead, your cheeks, your jaw, repeat

he has a way of pressing his lips on your skin that is both soothing and sensual

and before you know it, your heartbeat has calmed down, which is a miracle in and of itself, but... is it really okay to tell him what happened? wouldn't that be weird? but then again, this whole thing that the two of you have is very weird

"I... had a nightmare, I... dreamed that..."

"Yes?"

"I dreamed that you died again."

"Ah. ... Well, you should know by now, I don't seem to be very good at staying dead."

"Thankfully!"

Itachi pulls you into his arms, tucking your head under his chin

"I'm the one who should be thankful."

you can't see his face, but there is a hint of a smile in his voice, and it's the loveliest thing you've ever heard

"You can sleep", Itachi says, "I'm not going anywhere."

and it's the last thing you remember before you fall into the most restful, uninterrupted sleep

[uchihaxitachi]

i mean.. who wouldn't want to be courted by itachi even if you are a criminal i can name alot of people who'd want to court you regardless

…I see; perhaps I underestimated people’s sense of self preservation. Courting me is akin to signing a direct contact with hurt & grief. I am… I don’t think I would be a good consort. I have a life of secrecy, and a life of facade… should these things not matter?

[uchihaxitachi]

Like back in junior year of highschool I had a dream I was a changeling (the sidhe creature) and also you and sasuke’s fairy godmother. But it was like, my first day on the job, and you were older than me. And a scary ass ninja. And I wasn’t very good at my job.

Anyway I was trying to get you into the fae realm (I forget why???) by transporting you in this mary-poppins-infinite-bag like-cardboard box.

And you were like. “Who the fuck is this rando 16 year old civilian tryna kidnap me?”

And I was like- “I’m your fairy godmother, now get in the box, you little creep.”

And the you threw a radio flyer wagon at me and I woke up.

I had a lot of weird ass dreams. I prolly watched too much TV.

… I think you need to give your mind some rest. Oftentimes when we have vivid, nonsensical dreams, they just signify that your brain is hyperactive. Try meditation before bed, or perhaps a scented candle. Journalling will also help to pour your thoughts…

[uchihaxitachi]

ITACHII may i court u

Are you sure you want to be courted to an S-ranked criminal in the Bingo book, my dear?

[uchihaxitachi]

Coincidences: Red with Jealousy

Pairing: Itachi Uchiha x Coffee Shop Owner Reader (If you know you know 👀 I’ve had this series where a coffee shop/cafe owner reader rescued Itachi once and there has been silly to intense developments since.)

Setting: The Crimson Bloom, a quiet café tucked away from the world’s grasp, somewhere serene, somewhere peaceful. <3

Genre: Slow Burn, Romance, Jealousy

Word Count: ~4k

Tags: Manhandling, Protective Itachi, Kitchen Tension, Jealousy, Low-voiced Possessiveness

Author’s words: Hellu babies <3 I feel my writing juices flowing again, especially about my silly Raven haired Angel of a man <3 and man, I kid you not I was kicking my feeties like a highschooler while writing jelly Itachi. 🫣 I don’t remember the last time I’ve had so so much fun writing him 😻♥️

Itachi first stumbled into The Crimson Bloom half-dead.

Blood smeared across his cheekbone, black cloak with familiar red cloud patterns in the Bingo book — torn, fingers trembling—but not from fear. From restraint. He hadn’t eaten in three days. Not properly, anyway. The Jinchuriki hunting & losing a team-mate wasn’t something he could get used to. Even though blood, violence & genocide are his decorations. His medal-like scars.

You didn’t flinch when he pushed the door open and collapsed in the corner booth.

You only looked up from your book, wiped your hands on your apron, and walked over with a glass of water and a warm towel. Something about someone so dangerous, blazing red Sharingan that would kill you; didn’t falter you. All your thoughts consisted were foggy: If he wanted to, then he would own your last breath either way.

“You can sit here,” you had said gently. “Just don’t die on my floor. I just mopped it.”

Itachi remembered that line. He remembered how steady your hands were, how warm your touch felt against the fever burning through his skin. You didn’t ask his name. You didn’t care who he’d killed. You just brought him a bowl of Chicken soup, bandaged his arm, and whispered, “Rest here. It’s safe.”

Now? He’s made your kitchen feel like home.

⸻

It was just past dusk when Itachi slipped through the side door. You didn’t have to look up to know it was him—his chakra signature always moved like dark silk through the air, steady and quiet. But you still glanced over your shoulder and smiled as he entered the back of The Crimson Bloom, untying his cloak. When Itachi first re-visited you, his body language was different, drenched in innocent gratefulness. How he enters the Cafe like it’s another facade of a home that welcomes him. To him, everything is a facade of a home, but to you, it is a home for Itachi.

You were standing near the prep counter, sleeves rolled up, flour dusting your forearms as you kneaded dough for tomorrow’s morning bagels. He leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, watching you. You could feel his gaze like static heat on your skin. Itachi’s eyes linger a little too long on things he admires, and right now? He truly, truly admires his little Enchanting Angel. Technically, you are truly powerless, you don’t know any Jutsus, you are living a quiet life full of love. However, to Itachi — you are one of the strongest women there is.

“You’re late,” you said softly, without turning. Earlier, you never commented on Itachi’s habits. If he wishes to come, good enough. If he didn’t, you wouldn’t fret your beautiful mind over it. Now, you have started to also, show a certain degree of ownership over him.

“Hn.” His voice was like crushed velvet—deep, warm, and unreadable. “Had to take the long route. ANBU near the south entrance.”

“Did you kill anybody?” You have gotten bolder.

“Not today.” So has he.

You rolled your eyes fondly. “How responsible of you.”

Itachi said nothing for a long moment, just watched the way your hands moved. The kitchen smelled like coffee grounds and sweet cream, your skin glowing in the amber light. If there was ever an utopian world, Itachi would have married you every year on your anniversary. You are just… that important to him.

He moved finally, peeling off his gloves, setting them neatly on the counter. “Have you eaten, my Dear?”

“No,” you admitted. “Not that hungry actually, you know— all the time when you’re surrounded by the smell of food, your appetite kinda falters silly.” you chuckle.

A muscle in his jaw flexed.

“Sit down,” he murmured, already moving to the stove. “I’ll cook.”

You didn’t argue—Itachi was possessive about feeding you. Especially after that one time you fell ill & couldn’t muster the strength to even get your limbs off the bed. He said little about his missions, but his hands were always gentle when he sliced vegetables for you, his voice soft when he asked if you were drinking enough water, if you were sleeping well, if the man who tried to haggle you down over the matcha latte this afternoon had spoken to you again.

Itachi didn’t smile much, not really. But sometimes you saw a small, secret warmth in the way he placed your teacup just so, or how he wiped his hands before adjusting the lock on the front door when he thought you weren’t looking. A certain mirth, and when you were really, really lucky — a close-eyed, heart filling smile.

He was quiet like that. Dangerous like that. Gentle only for you.

But lately—something had shifted in him.

You saw it in the way he lingered in the shadows when you served customers. In the way his eyes followed a man’s hand a little too closely when it brushed your arm. In the silence that crept between you when you told him about the new regular who’d been flirting with you.

You hadn’t thought it would matter. Itachi was… distant. Mysterious. A man built for solitude. Even if he wasn’t, you knew that he would never — forfeit his identity. Or… did you perhaps underestimate him?

But then, he caught you laughing with someone else. Giggling softly, your beautiful face showing the perfect plush blush. Something in him raved within, like molten lava.

You didn’t know his name. He was just another customer—broad-shouldered, clean smile, a traveling merchant who said he liked the cinnamon rolls and the way you braided your hair. You were polite, as you were with everyone.

But that day, Itachi had arrived earlier than usual. And he saw the merchant lean in a little too close. Saw you tilt your head, laughing softly at some compliment. Saw the man reach out like he was about to tuck a fucking strand of hair behind your ear.

He didn’t. But he almost did.

And that was enough.

That night, you found Itachi in the kitchen after closing. He was cutting carrots like they’d offended him, each slice perfect and sharp.

You leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “You’re tense.”

“No.”

“Liar.”

Itachi didn’t look at you. But the air around him shifted—denser, hotter. You could feel it in your bones. Like he would pounce upon you any moment. You usually never felt this around him, you felt soft, safe, feminine.

You moved closer, reaching for the glass of water on the counter, brushing his arm. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” His voice was low. Too low.

You blinked, then tilted your head. “You’re never this clipped unless—”

“Do you enjoy being flirted with?”

You froze.

It wasn’t a question he asked with curiosity. It was a knife wrapped in velvet. His voice still soft, but sharp underneath. Dangerous. Authoritative.

“I—what?”

“The merchant. Today.”

“He was just a customer, I was just being nice..”

“You laughed, as if the humour was exquisite & to your liking— to my surprise I didn’t find him the least bit funny—“

“I laugh with you too.”

His eyes met yours.

And for the first time, you saw it—jealousy. Pure and raw. Not loud. Not childish. But burning low and steady in those deep black eyes.

“You’re different with me,” he murmured, stepping closer.

“I-Itachi—”

He caged you in gently, one hand braced beside your head on the cabinet. His other hand slid to your waist, not quite pulling, not quite letting go. His fingers flexed—once, twice—like he was restraining himself. As if he was remembering all the Shinobi lessons inculcated in him ever since he was four.

“I despise him looking at you like that,” he said finally, voice hoarse. “Despise him imagining things in his head.” He should’ve been killed with his Tsukuyomi. The thought did cross Itachi’s brain.

“Imagining things?” you whispered, skin prickling under his touch.

He leaned closer, mouth brushing your ear. “Don’t pretend you don’t understand, Y/N.”

Your knees buckled slightly. He caught you with ease, grip tightening at your waist.

“Another man pretentiously acting charming around you & being allowed to do so — infuriates me.” His words are molten, hot as the scorching sun. With no tolerance for further debates.

You swallowed hard. “You never said anything before.”

“I didn’t want to break what we have.” His thumb ghosted over the curve of your hip. “But if another man tries to touch you again… I won’t be so calm. If another worthless mutt decides to almost tuck a hair behind your ear, it will be his last day.”

You stared at him, breath shallow. He was serious. You knew he was serious. You see the hints of commitment beneath his eyes that soared with rage.

He leaned down, his lips just brushing the corner of your mouth. “And then I’d mop the floor so you don’t have to clean up the blood.”

Today you saw another side of the Uchiha. A side you weren’t sure you admired. Or feared. Or perhaps, loved?