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ikemenomegas · 1 year

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Itachi Uchiha x Reader

Fear is the mind killer (1)

cw: navel gazey fake sherlock holms bullshit, set in the omegaverse although that's largely irrelevant to plot, alpha!reader, this oc suffers from a good amount of justified paranoia, also warning for attempts to be realistic about the whole child-soldier thing

A better member of the village would have put it all behind them, the whole sordid affair of one of the village's founding clans, a noble clan, being all but wiped out in a night.

It was an act of madness, of power, sometimes seen in the shinobi world. In a single night, the entire clan, fair and shrewd, cruel and arrogant, kind and dedicated, had been made martyrs.

Everyone except the eldest son of the clan head, who was now a villain, and the youngest son of the same, who was now a victim.

If anyone else was stunned into denial and disbelief they, like you, kept their silence. If this was the work of an enemy then it was one that was strong enough only the highest ranking members of the village would know much about it. If it was, more terrifying, the work of a supposed friend to the village, then there was something rotten in the roots of Konoha's great tree.

If it was truly madness, part of you didn't wonder if maybe the village deserved its grief. Itachi had had friends, or at least people who considered themselves his friends. He was an ANBU, one who waded into the dark. Those around him should have never let things get this far.

There was no funeral, which would have been the choice of the last village-bound Uchiha.

Still for there to be no public memorial for a founding clan was strange.

It would have been Uchiha Sasuke's choice, but you wished someone had counseled him to make a different one, even if it would dredge up painful memories. The completely silent and echoing absence of a whole clan in the village was resounding.

The knowledge of who had done it - the jounin and chunin were all whispering about it, it was impossible to keep secret and the village had given up trying almost before it had began - felt like the aftermath of a punch pulled right before it hit your nose.

You suspected you weren't alone in feeling like the massacre being just the Uchiha had been a near miss.

Your mind craved distraction from its own grief, and for better or worse, any information about the event was placed into some box in your mind like sweeping up the shattered remains of a vase. And like broken porcelain, it rattled when you walked with it.

It rattled when villagers fell suddenly silent at odd moments in their own conversations, whether what conversation you heard had seemed to hint at ill will or sympathy towards the Uchiha.

It rattled when you realized it was the forty-ninth day after the massacre and while your steps had taken you past the village's largest temple, your fear of being watched - you had after all been one of the friends (or at least acquaintances) of now traitor Uchiha Itachi - kept you from going inside.

It rattled whenever you caught sight of the other clan heads, distant and alone or with a cohort of vassal clan members and trusted guards, and wondered what they made of the event. What did they think of the lack of response from the village? What did they make of the power vacuum?

You walked back to your apartment in silence after leaving your teammates each day, the back of your neck prickling.

Most jounin sensei preached against fear. It froze the senses or focused them without the benefit of incorporating other information. Your sensei was a beta woman from no clan lineage in particular who had taken one look at your team, fresh out of the academy, in the middle of a village still somewhat resentful of how it was still rebuilding itself after being trampled on by a hundred meter chakra monster, and told you all that fear, like pain, meant something was wrong.

Sometimes it could be ignored or fought through to be dealt with in the future. Sometimes it was telling you something important about yourself or your environment.

As fear was in the mind, however, it liked to be more difficult to deal with than pain. It was the shinobi's responsibility, she counseled, to discern when your body was being reasonably ridiculous about it (like when your teammate put a thorny beetle down the back of your collar), or when it could put you in danger.

Such as would be the case for one trapped in a potent genjutsu. Or one of likely a number being watched for their response in the aftermath of a local upheaval.

Everyone seemed to be watching with bated breath to see if anyone else would do something. You had no idea what would happen if someone decided to break rank. The enemy on the other side of the field was entirely obscured.

Or at least they were trying to be.

You went to training and returned home day by day with only the varied and mindless sort of wandering someone both surprised and grieving might do.

The pieces rattled around as you sifted through them, thoughtlessly tracing the edges.

There was a formation among many others that your sensei had laid before your team. Shinobi had many ways of laying traps for their enemies, and for those they were not sure yet were enemies.

Nagano Botan was a branch member of the Akimichi family and blessed with the corresponding large build and large chakra reserves. He was the center of a strategy in your team that involved his intentionally neglecting to suppress his chakra if you suspected yourselves being monitored. The enormity of his natural power effectively drowned out the other chakra signatures in close proximity so that a typical sensor who wasn't sure what they were looking for could underestimate your team's number or miss a position.

It also had the secondary effect of intimidation. There was less likelihood of an attack from those without enough information if they thought they were outclassed to begin with.

This plan didn't work all the time, but it worked often enough on simple protection missions where the enemy were hill bandits or mountain bandits or simply cowards that the technique was taught to genin.

Sometimes the best defense was a distraction. It aligned at least with the philosophy of those whose job it was to be a constant and possible threat, lurking in the dark.

You frowned to yourself. ANBU was about as deep as the shadows got but there hadn't been any other announced defections from the village in the same week or even month.

There had been very ostensibly nothing else happening at all.

Not that you would know what was happening, you thought sourly, pulling your mind back to the exercise at hand.

Your other teammate, Kuniko, was on a hidden branch practicing throwing senbon through leaves that you sent spiraling into the air

She was very good with them and it had become one of your favorite things to see a fall of steel needles coming down like rain from a direction that your enemies hadn't anticipated. She was however working on precision and you were working on control and cultivating a second chakra nature, so this resulted in you sending leaves spiraling the wrong way in relation to the ground and trying to will your chakra to split them before Kuniko could pin them through with her throwing needles.

By tally, she was winning and it seemed more and more likely that you were going end up buying her the wagered plate of sakuramochi.

It was one of the less physically demanding but mentally taxing exercises your team had in its training repertoire and you and Kuniko, who was experimenting with adjusting throwing angles with chakra threads as well, took scheduled breaks to let Botan ply the two of you with snacks and meditate in order to recenter your control and focus.

They were talking, each pressing Arakawa-sensei with questions about their individual training, while you twirled a leaf between your fingers. You were comfortable, nestled between the roots of a tree with your back pressed to its warm trunk. You were trying to sense the layers of the leaf and direct your chakra to split it that way, rather than along the main vein.

It was perhaps a tad too complicated, certainly too complicated to be useful in the field right now, but you were feeling a bit mischievous and bifurcating Kuniko's target in a way that appeared to duplicate it was tempting.

You rolled the stem between your fingers, careful to maintain the chakra-cycling breath that was the base root of this particular meditation. The leaf's top side was shiny, glossy and very green, the other less vibrant and soft, spongy. You brought it to your nose and pulled in the green growing scent. The underside prickled your skin, not as soft as you had imagined.

Kuniko was laughing at something but somehow that sound suddenly made you wary, like there was something at just that same frequency you couldn't hear.

You were careful. This feeling was not unfamiliar since the massacre. The sudden and unprovoked sense of panic, of missing something. Intentionally, you avoided catching Arakawa-sensei's eye. She would help you if it was unreasoned panic, but you felt like this was one of those thing she had mentioned.

One of those times when fear meant that something was wrong and that something important was right there, just beyond articulation, and it needed to be brought into the realm of thought before it could be dealt with.

What kind of threats were simply too deep to be acknowledged?

The kind that lived at your very back.

Kuniko called your name to begin again and you used the tree to support you when you stood and picked carefully over the grass when you walked over.

It was now time for a rotation. Botan was to practice tree walking, standing upside down or sideways in order to avoid detection, so fluid that not even a leaf would fall from the trees above. Kuniko was to try burning the leaves that did fall before you could catch them in your hand. At the same time, you were each trying to tag Botan out before he got to one of you, without being seen.

You fought back a scowl, because there was already an answer. Like a sliver of porcelain found under the wardrobe or stabbed into your palm. A shiver passed over your back when Arakawa-sensei popped up behind the two of you on the ground, a sinister warning to get out there and get started in her eyes, but the shiver stayed for different reasons.

For one, the kind of wind that promised a chill storm had kicked up, helping Botan to hide within the noise. For another, you quite literally felt like you would jump at your own shadow if the forest hadn't already swallowed it.

What kind of shadow was deeper than ANBU?

You didn't know, but you were certain that Uchiha Itachi had a good idea.

A/n: This is the promised start to a short series that is about Itachi's Alpha's decision to go find Itachi, and their thought process in discerning what was going on behind the scenes of the Uchiha massacre. It is incredibly navel gazey and doesn't have much to do with the omegaverse apart from being set in that realm. As writer and readers I think we understand that despite the shinobi practice of treating academy graduates as adults, this does not mean that genin and advanced ranks are making completely rational/unemotional decisions. Itachi's decisions, which are focused on here, were incredibly emotional. Despite being saddled with an adult's burden and expected to make an adult's decisions, after watching and rewatching the relevant scenes of his conversations with the elders, as well as his confessions to Sasuke and others later on, I have come to a greater appreciation of the writing for those scenes(whether this is confirmation bias or truly present I don't know). Itachi's decision regarding the massacre is made based on fear, anger, desperation, love, and watching him makes his youth more obvious, even behind the reputation of his being an ANBU captain and the clan heir. The mc in this is an unreliable narrator partly due to their own age, as well as what I imagine would be incredibly stressful circumstances post-massacre. In part 1, they don't love Itachi. Yet. They just remember him. If you've had such similar experience regarding persistent thoughts about someone before, you may recognize the experience of the object of mc's thoughts becoming a kind of obsession as they replay scenes and ideas over and over. They also know that although Itachi was at a level far beyond his own peers, he was also part of their age group, which is a bit like watching one of the gifted kids go to all the advanced classes but still know they're in the same literature class as you or something. So I don't think they, starting off as a genin when this happens, has quite the understanding of ANBU to really believe that Itachi is behaving like an ANBU or jounin veteran would. Everything in this will come from the mc's point of view and they are not always aware of the assumptions they are making at every step, despite doing their best to reason things out. Importantly, they are being coached by Itachi's "voice". Some assumptions they eventually will have to admit came into being because they didn't want a friend and someone they looked up to be a murderer and leave it at that. Sometimes the things we want to be true about ourselves and other people give us blinders. Shinobi are taught to be unfeeling and told that the highest honor would be to be a perfect tool, easily molded. But we see how that works out over and over again, with Itachi, with Obito, with Kakashi, with Sasuke, with Rin, with Tsunade and so on. And we see how individual thinking or great problem solving abilities, often in the children deemed prodigies by the villages (including many of the series' missing nin), sometimes going hand in hand with a nearly curse-level ability to empathize, buts up against the shinobi ideal. After all, empathy with your enemies would make you a fantastic strategist, but only if you can also stop thinking of other people as people. For better or worse, this mc becomes aware that they are "not a good shinobi" early on, and this transforms into an internalization of a "ninja way" that is not quite in lockstep with the village policies.

#uchiha itachi #itachi uchiha #omega!itachi #alpha!reader #itachi x reader #itachi uchiha x reader #reader insert #omegaverse #io.omegas #a/b/o dynamics #fic with a little meta on the side #alpha reader #i talk too much #that's why the author note is at the bottom #so that people can freely skip it #this has been in my drafts for a billion years and i want it out #i'm still working on the promptfills and the izuna fic #i'm just a cranky lady who needs this out of my “to do list” part of my brain

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jhalya · 9 months

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🥵 Galadriel is a sweaty mess, but Halbrand is even sweatier.

🎁 In honour of this outrageous Charlie still.

🔗 Read on AO3

#haladriel #promptfill #honestly this man is ridiculously hot #like how dare he?

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thecoziestbean · 11 months

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Pure saccharine fluff. Have a cookie. 🍪

(Promptfill from over on the bird app.)

#haladriel #saurondriel #otp: bind yourself to me #galadriel x halbrand #galadriel x sauron #haladriel promptfill

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banmitbandit · 7 months

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DAY 2: EVIL!!!!! >:3CCCC

CRINGETOBER 2023!!!!!

my lancer pilot Serafim if they'd gone to HA instead of joining a HORUS splinter! They usually pilot a Pegasus but here they pilot an Enkidu!

Once again, thanks to @whezze for the promptlist! :33!!!!

#cringetober 2023 #cringetober 2023 whezze #lancer oc #serafim kenos #these promptfills are not going to follow any kind of proper format so they are gonna look really different next to eachother #but i do not care!!!! im having fun!!!!!!! :)))#im just doing whatever

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bobaheadshark · 1 year

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Nashuri - Roses

A nashuri drabble, based on the word prompt: roses

(i.e. due to some grief going on in my personal life, i’ve had five weeks worth or more of writer’s block, and this was what I could manage)

Rated: G/T

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“Roses really smell like pooh-pooh ooh…” Shuri sings, very off key.

“This does not make sense. ‘Down to Mars’ girl. Mars is above us. We cannot be down to Mars, when mars is in constant orbit above our planet.”

“It’s just a song, Namor.”

“Yes, a very catchy song. A, how do you say it in your age, a banger-bop.”

“That is not how we say it, but okay.”

OutKast keep singing about leaning a bit closer, and it’s two in the morning, the lab is a little cold because of the delicate cores and material they’re working with, and Namor is obviously grumpy because he hasn’t eaten anything in hours, but Shuri thinks for the first time in a long time she might, possibly, be having fun.

The Vibranium power cell hovers on its tiny dias, glowing blue and purple, even more compact and efficient than when they first started working on it. Two kingdoms, sharing expertise, working for something greater than themselves.

And nobody said sharing expertise couldn’t be fun.

Shuri sways gently along to the song. Namor puts up a front of not being enthused, but he’s tapping one foot perfectly in time with the beat. Shuri finds herself wanting to engage him, has the mad impulse to even take his hands and boogie along, so she stops herself by dancing a respectful distance away.

“Had a lot of time to ponder songs while you were underwater, eh?”

“I got a gramophone right when it came out.”

She’s sure he didn’t mean for it to come out sounding so defensive. It makes the corners of her mouth quirk up, despite herself.

“You are so funny.”

“I keep up with the trends.”

“Okay, boomer.”

“Shuri,” he says, warningly. With as much bite as a sunfish would a sea snail.

In one over enthused move, Shuri bumps the side of the lab table, knocking a vibranium core slightly off balance. It’s in no danger of actually falling off, since Griot is programmed to follow her movement and constantly nanobots are at the ready to form a protective net.

But Namor lunges anyway. Half of his body ends up knocked into hers, one arm outstretched to catch the rock where it would’ve fallen, and logically, exploded.

The lab goes into darkness. The song, silenced.

The muscled bulk of Namor’s shoulder is hard against her lab coat, his bicep like a tree branch where she’s ended up tangled up against him, lifted up on her toes where he is pushed upwards. He seems partially caught in an attempt to push her away from danger, and half to take the brunt of the impact where the core would’ve detonated on the floor.

“What are you doing?” Shuri asks, blinking spots out of her eyes. She hadn’t even realised how bright it was.

“Helping you.”

“I was fine.” She swallows the lump in her throat. Tilts her chin at a display panel, glowing softly in the distance. “Built in failsafes.”

“I know.”

Neither of them moves. She thinks they probably should.

The lights stay low. The vibranium core stains the world blue.

She can feel him breathing; remembers the lightning fast way he crossed the room to her, even though her reflexes are just as fast as his, even though she has her panther habit on, even though she’s done this a thousand times before.

Shuri stretches an arm out gingerly, and plucks the core back from his hand to put on the table. He pulls slightly away and stands straight. He doesn’t avert his eyes, or anything like that. He just looks at her, and waits.

The moment stretches out too long between them. He’s close enough she can see the uneven direction that his beard is trimmed, with so many hours they’ve spent up here.

She leans in, and he does too, mouth parted like he wants to share a secret. But she bails at the last minute, acting like she wanted to move the vibranium piece back to safety.

“Griot, resume song.”

The beat comes back on, and the lab with it. Namor blinks once, then twice, understanding her meaning.

(And what is my meaning? Shuri asks herself. Half fearing the answer.)

Neither of them says anything, falling back into careful syncopation as they fuss with the nano batteries. There is only the sound of music in her lab and the careful hush of quiet work. The smell of molten silver and something aquatic from him that she can’t place, like open sky and dark water.

As he holds a piece in place for her to solder a component tight, she thinks to herself that maybe she didn’t make it up in her head.

That he once told her about the chucum blossom and the tortoise shell; and maybe he wasn’t really joking, when he called her something like a smoking star.

What does that mean? She’d asked.

Precious beyond compare. He’d said back, with the wealth of an entire world in his eyes.

———————

Last few lines are, afaik, from flower song, an Ancient Mayan poem

#nashuri #namuri #shuri x namor #seaprincess #drabble #fanfiction #promptfill

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greensaplinggrace · 8 months

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09. — chocolate 😋

yum

Wickedly Divine Rating: Explicit Words: 7914

#grishaverse #shadow and bone #sab #asks and answers #anon #aleksander morozova #the darkling #darklina #alina x darkling #alarkling #explicitkinkfills #promptfills #nsft #suggestive #ask games

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weird-an · 1 year

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Your writing gives me life, here's a prompt...porny angst, sub Billy using his safeword whilst being dommed by Steve or Eddie [....or both], xtra points for impact play. Dunno if that's a thing you would be into writing. :)

Steve it is! I guess this could use a tw: for spanking, undernegotiated kinks, because they are both idiots and don't really communicate, Billy not really knowing what they are doing (sounds worse like it is I guess? I hope?)

Billy's backside burns and Steve's hand hits his ass again, a sharp sting, sending waves of pleasure along his spine. Only slightly tinted with pain, just a little edge.

"3." Billy gasps, his cock aching and he swallows against the guilt rising up in his throat. He shouldn't like this. Lying here, on Steve's lap, with his jeans pushed down to his ankles. It's wrong.

He thinks of it for the first time, just now. It's a word.

A word Steve wanted them to choose to make everything stop, when they started hooking up. It's stupid and Billy has laughed, because he would take everything Steve throws at him. He doesn't want Steve to think he's weak. And he isn't. He doesn't want to disappoint him, he doesn't want Steve to find someone else to fuck, because Billy is not fun anymore.

Steve laughs, bending a bit closer. "We've only got started and you're already fucking wet for me."

Steve's hand smacks his ass again, this time a bit harder than before. It hurts more and Billy can feel himself leaking, precome running down his dick. His cheeks burn, from humiliation, shame and arousal, a dangerous cocktail making him dizzy. He closes his eyes.

"4," is more a noise than a word, dangerously close to a whine. He can feel Steve's cock pressing against his side, hot and wanting just like his own.

He has to go through with it, then. Steve enjoys it. And Billy enjoys it too and that's the worst part. He has always known there's something broken inside him. Now Steve knows that too, he must see it. Billy on his lap, close to coming - from being spanked.

Steve's palm hits his ass again and this time it's harder and hurts and it's better than before. A white fire burns inside Billy, all his nerves are burning and he shouldn't, he shouldn't fucking like this.

"Cherry," Billy hears himself say and it's confusing, because his head is filled with syrup and he's already so close, but he just can't.

He stares at the wall and waits for Steve to chuckle, to hit him even harder and call him a pathetic loser who can't take a hit. But Steve's hand doesn't touch his ass again.

"Can I touch you?" Steve asks quietly and worst of all, worried. Like Billy is fragile. Why would he be worried? Why would he ask if Billy wants to be touched?

Billy tries to blink away the dizziness. "Yeah."

Steve pulls Billy into his arms, planting a kiss on his temple. "What was it? I think we should talk about it."

Billy buries his face in the nape of Steve's neck, breathing in the scent that is just Steve. Calming and grounding in a way Billy doesn't really get.

"I liked it." Billy swallows dryly. "It's fucked up, I...I shouldn't..."

Steve sucks in a sharp breath and Billy goes stiff, because maybe now is the moment he's getting laughed at and kicked out.

"I thought... that was the point," Steve whispers. "That you like it, I like it..."

Oh.

Steve puts his fingers under Billy's chin, making him look up. His eyes are warm and so fucking kind. Billy's heart skips a beat.

"There's nothing wrong with that, Billy," Steve says, "You're so good for me."

Billy shudders and suddenly the world tips a little sideways, turns a little blurry again. "I am?" he asks, breathless and pulse hammering.

"Really good," Steve tells him and Billy is all hot and cold at the same time.

#me when I first go this prompt: I'm not gonna write this #my brain just now: here is the promptfill #thank you sm for the prompt! it was kinda a challenge but i hope you like it ;)#does this need the label? not sure #billy x steve #harringrove ficlet #promptfill #harringrove smut #sub billy hargrove #billy hargrove #harringrove

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