Twin Flames

Twin Flames

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Warnings: modern AU, “sugar daddy,” romance, alcohol consumption, eventual smut but smut is not the point, Madara x Nurse!Reader

What was life if not mundane? Until one day he barreled into your life and flipped it over. Nothing will ever be the same. You didn't belong to the same world, but the heart will yearn for what it wants.

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The idea for this story (which will be part of a larger work) came from after an annoying shift at work when my friends and I were joking about what we were doing with our lives. This should be the most light-hearted part of the series I have in mind. Thinking of Madara as a sugar daddy was hot to me, so I needed to somehow get you to him. By no means am I encouraging anyone to become a sugar baby or glorifying these relationships with inherently unbalanced power dynamics in real life. And definitely don’t do anything potentially unsafe. DNI IF THIS THEME OFFENDS.

Inspiration was also drawn from the beautiful epic song "Star Sky," by the amazing group Two Steps from Hell. It is about two mirror souls reincarnating and finding each other through lifetimes, even if separated from age to age by time and death. The style of music renders the lyrics hard to elucidate, so you may need the lyrics separately on the side to make them out.

Word count: 4596

Chapter 1

You were so pissed after this night shift, everything that could have gone wrong going wrong. It was like the stars tried to align and screw you over. At least it was over, until next time. Fire in your veins, you stomped through the locker room to change. Part of you wanted to scream, while the other wanted to cry. Perhaps doing both wouldn’t be inappropriate either, given the circumstances. You stopped your turbulent rampage, trying to calm yourself so you didn’t slam something.

“Y/N. Let’s go out. We deserve it after all that,” your beloved friend Jasna said.

“Are we day drinking now? Here I was thinking there are still some things we are above doing.”

“Buddy, I meant breakfast. You’re already skipping ahead to tonight.”

You were about to make some sort of excuse to escape any social obligations at this time, but the alternative of going back to your empty home to collapse and bawl your eyes out the moment the door closed, which you knew you were going to do, held equally little appeal. Your stomach growled at you in disapproval, reminding you of your neglect since early yesterday evening.

You sighed, “Fine. Let’s do it. We have to eat sometimes anyways.”

“Hehe! I knew you still had some reason in you after your earlier outbursts!”

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Your party of two sat down at your favourite breakfast diner and ordered. Suddenly you were bone tired now that you had a chance to sit. What were you even doing with your life? Day in and day out, the same thing, 'saving people.' Were you even doing that? It was so often just one hopeless case after the other, like keeping bodies ‘alive’ while they slowly flushed themselves down the drain until they finally croaked. Such was nursing. It was soul-crushing work at times. And so meaningless at others.

“—And they even doubled my assignment. ‘It’d be a good double,’ they said. The moment they say that, you know it’s over! I was sent to OR at the beginning of the shift with my first patient while my other guy kept trying to pull his lines out. Luckily he didn’t get to his dialysis line or his central line or it’d be an even bigger disaster!”

Jasna was right. It wasn’t a good double. There are still way worse assignments. Your train wreck of a patient died, and you and whatever help the unit could muster last night spent hours using every resource trying to resuscitate a body you knew was long gone. Your back was STIFF from the CPR.

The workload only ever got heavier with no relief in sight. Only the sense of comradery with your fellow coworkers, especially the best nurses in the world, kept you going. You trusted them to have your back when things spiraled downhill with your patients’ lives and even with your own, if you were ever to end up a patient. They were always the only ones who truly understood when you needed to rant to each other.

Jasna suddenly snorted at you when you made a disparaging comment about her last patient. “Y/N! Shush, don’t let the higher powers hear you!”

“Well fire me then! I DARE THEM!” It was true. The ‘higher powers’ were more desperate for nurses to work than they had nurses wanting to work. “What are we even doing with our lives? We only keep going back because we hate ourselves but we want to see our work friends. And to put some food on the table.”

“If they’d just pay us more instead of themselves, they wouldn’t have half the problems they have. But of course, we just work there and nothing ever makes sense with the administration.”

"What else could we do?” You exhaled in exasperation. “I’m already in school again for my Master’s, but it’s only making things worse. I can’t take as many shifts as I used to.”

“I guess the only option left is to marry rich, ha!"

You rolled your eyes. “Any more sensible suggestions?”

“It’s plenty sensible,” Jasna huffed. “Try a sugar dating site…sometimes a girl needs to eat.”

You got quiet, remembering the trying times of being a nursing student, when between the needs of studying, preparing for exams and assignments, the long hours of clinical placement, and a part-time job, making ends meet was an almost impossible challenge for those without a safety net. Jasna had none, and needed to live, obviously.

“I am too old to be a sugar baby."

"Stop saying that! 29 isn't even old. I'll be your age in a few years." She played at being indignant.

To be honest, Jasna’s situation then was not quite different from your current predicament. Your Master’s of Nursing program was even more expensive than her Bachelor’s. The scholarship covered most of the tuition, but you still had to live. Rent to pay, food, any number of other miscellaneous items. Hospitals wanted more Nurse Practitioners and other specialized nurses, but there was no financial assistance, not when they also needed more nurses to toil at the bedside. With your course workload, even going from full-time to part-time at your current job left you in a rut. Not enough time for school. Not enough time to work and garner wages. You were at an impasse. And so, so tired.

You had no more fire in you for tonight. You sighed, thinking back on when you used dating apps in your early adult days, swimming through countless messages spamming "Hi" or "Baby you're hot, let's fuck" to find one decent message. Clearly nothing came out of it. How disappointing and tedious it all was.

“You’re thinking about it. I can tell.” Jasna gave you a knowing look.

“Nah. As if I want to make more time for something like dating. Clearly, time is what I’m always short on.”

“You do whatever you need to, I’ll be here. You could always just start a profile to check it out.”

The two of you wrapped up your meal and said your goodbyes. Until the next time you worked together again.

You stepped into the shower when you got home, steaming water erasing the grime of the night. The hot water temporarily soothed your worries and eased the tension from your muscles. It felt so good to be out of those dirty scrubs. Finally relaxing, your mind wandered back to your conversation with Jasna. You could just make an account, she was right, and flip through a few profiles. It was the kind of low commitment you could adhere to for awhile. It felt like a lifetime ago since you’ve last been with a man in any capacity.

It will be the same, just expect nothing. If the bar of expectation was already on the ground, there was only ‘up’ to go, so you couldn’t be disappointed, right? And you could just ignore whatever unsavory messages that came your way.

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“Brother, you need to go out more. You look more and more like an old man day after day, always so serious and disapproving. Your wrinkles are going to start showing.” A handsome young man stepped into the opulent study, raven hair down, freed from the ties of its usual low ponytail.

“And you need to dedicate yourself less to my extracurriculars, and more to business now that you’re feeling well. There are contracts to be negotiated.” Sharp eyes turned to acknowledge the newcomer to the room. The man at the huge mahogany desk put down his fountainpen, elegant script dancing across the plush papers he worked on. 

“I would if you had extracurriculars to speak of. As it is, I feel obligated to arrange activities for you, lest you rupture an aneurysm in your old age and stress.”

“Old age?” He was in his thirties.

Izuna grinned, knowing he was getting under Madara’s skin. And knowing equally well he could get away with things when it came to his stern brother, things that he wouldn’t let slip with others.

Madara was mildly irritated, but he’d play along, for now. Staring down his nose at his brother, he asked, “Hn. Then I’ll amuse you. What do you have planned for this old man which might alleviate his woes?”

“Don’t worry. I’ve always got your best interests at heart. We could set you up for a moonlit dinner date–“

“Out of the question. Why would I suffer the presence of some blathering fool? You should know I haven’t the time for frivolous activities such as—”

“—I even made you a dating profile on this website.”

“You did what?”

His brother, ever the cunning fox, grinned again as if he was feeling sheepish. “You’re now publicly an eligible bachelor looking for a lucky lady friend to spoil on a sugar daddy dating site. Would you like to know your username?”

“…” For once, Madara was at a loss for words. Out of all the ridiculous antics Izuna pulled over the years, never had he done anything on a public platform. They hailed from the Uchiha family for goodness sake. They had an image to maintain, even if not on principle, then at least for the unsullied reputation demanded in their business relationships.

Izuna was starting to sweat. Did he go too far? But this time, it wasn’t just a childish prank. “Look, I even found several excellent potential matches.” He pulled out his phone and booted the app to show Madara.

…It was you.

“Do you see something you like Madara-oniichan?” the brat was trying hard not to let the corners of his lips lift in mirth and failing miserably.

“…I think I should like to put you back in the hospital myself if you’d like to see your nurse so badly.” He glared furiously at his little brother, who was at times more trouble than he was worth. If he could kill with just a glance, Izuna would have combusted on multiple occasions already.

His mind jumped back to those months in the hospital long ago. In retrospect, he wished he got to know you more when he was visiting. But he was so overwhelmed by Izuna's state of injury, he was completely unavailable and nothing would have reached him at the time. Everything began with Izuna. Everything revolved around Izuna, his only remaining living member of family.

There had been a huge healthcare team involved in Izuna's recovery, and multiple units too, though they spent the longest in the ICU. After many months in the ICU, they made it to step-down, then transferred to the wards, and finally months of rehab. It’s been several years since then, and Izuna is finally looking as he did before the incident.

Throughout that time between healthcare facilities and units, Madara recalled countless smart, attractive nurses both young and older, professional despite the mistreatment by patients, families, the administration, and the system itself. You still stood out to him though. You were also pretty, but the way you carried yourself demonstrated you weren't even aware. You were all the more alluring for that.

Professional, competent, and kind. That was how he remembered you. He recalled when you eased him into a corner of the room as his brother died onscreen to explain what everyone was doing, gently reminding him that others in the room couldn’t hear important communication to each other when he screamed. You calmly explained why no one was shocking Izuna when there was no heartbeat, what medications were being given. There was a way of being firm in your demeanor without being disrespectful. You were so attractive to him. Too bad you were his brother's nurse and he wasn't in the headspace to pursue then.

“Just go for her! The worst that could happen is her rejecting your grouchy ass. What if some other lucky man snatches her up first?” Izuna started. "You see yourself? You've been alone for too long. I can't leave you all by yourself if something were to happen to me again."

Izuna had been drugged out of his mind to help control his pain, ventilation, and agitation. When eventually his sedation medications were weaned off and he woke up, he remembered how tender you were with him. Even the small details, where you saturated his wounds with saline before carefully peeling them back so the old dressings wouldn't rip against his healing wound beds. How you so sincerely apologized for each harder tug and each of his winces, as if you were the one hurting.

He was high as a kite, but some things he still remembered. Like how his brother would sometimes watch you as you worked when Izuna himself was a bit more lucid so Madara would be worrying less about him. No one else would have noticed these minute changes in his brother's behaviour, but they didn't escape him.

“You’re lucky brother. It’s this Saturday at 1900.” He pulled Madara out of his reverie.

 “Now what? What’s this Saturday?”

“Your date of course. I already contacted her and she agreed to see you.”

A fountainpen flew with speed and embedded itself in a thick wooden door as it slammed shut and a cackling laughter disappeared into the distance.

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HOLY SHIT. It's HIM. You knew his name. You knew his face. It was Uchiha Madara, older brother to Izuna.

Every member of staff remembered these two. Izuna was a trauma patient transferred from another hospital for more advanced support after the trauma surgeons were finished with him. The extent of injuries was startling. Izuna was on ECMO to bypass and support his non-functional heart. He was also on every other mode of life support: maxed out on multiple pressors, continuous dialysis, massive transfusions... His survival was a miracle.

You remembered how Madara would come day after day to sit quietly by Izuna's side, sometimes bringing his work. He was polite to the staff despite how gravely ill his brother was, and that by itself already earned him a place in your memory. The only time you recalled an outburst from Madara was the first time Izuna coded and his primary nurse and others successfully brought Izuna back to life while you talked to Madara. Over the course of months, everyone on the staff agreed in the most objective way that these brothers were very fine male specimens.

You were anxious and unsure, but of course you agreed to see him at his invitation.

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Madara ambled through his large closet, stocked from floor-to-ceiling with enough finery to dress a king. He pondered several outfits, weighing each option against another. A suit and tie? Much too formal. A nice pair of jeans? He couldn’t run the risk of appearing sloppy. A dress shirt? Possibly. He picked up a few other options to match when he heard a click behind him. The pest was back.

“I know how to dress for a woman. I don’t need your help.”

“Relax. I’m only here to see how you’re doing.” Izuna was enjoying himself. It wasn’t every day one got to see Madara mull over his appearance as he did now.

“Did you need to use such a lame pickup line?”

“It worked! It was perfectly fitting. I thought it was cute.” Izuna picked up a brush and ran it through his brother’s locks, as he used to do when they were younger. With just the two of them left in their family, they had no one else but each other. They would take care of each other.

Madara relaxed back into the strokes, even if his mane was already perfectly brushed through and detangled. “It was bordering the boundaries of good taste.”

“But it applied for both of us. She can’t even accuse of me pretending to be you. Can you at least commend me for my genius? And why are you still here? Don’t you need to pick her up?”

“You were masquerading as me. Milady insisted on meeting directly at the restaurant.”

“You didn’t manage to convince her of otherwise? She’s already playing hard to get? Fantastic. Good luck with your courtship!” Izuna performed an exaggerated, swooshing bow with a toothy smile. He wondered if you might eat his softie of a brother alive if he didn’t accidentally scare you away first. It’d be funny, but he hoped you’d be brave enough to endure cracking through his stubborn outer shell and too kind to make his beloved brother suffer too much.

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Just on time! You stepped out of your Uber, treading carefully down the steps in kitten heels to ensure the first thing you did wasn’t to face plant in front of your date. You let the hostess know of the reservation Madara made and followed her to a more private section of the lavish restaurant.

Upon making another turn, you didn’t need to be led anymore. It was quieter, not due to the total lack of other people, but because of him. His presence took up the whole room, like it dragged out all the air and it left you breathless.

He was handsome and well-dressed as always. Faintly patterned navy blue dress shirt fitting snugly, outlining the definition in his arms and chest, dark trousers well-tailored, brown dress shoes tying his look together. He was the picture of elegance. Long fingers lifted a glass of wine to his lips and he sipped as he suddenly turned his gaze towards you. Your mouth ran dry as his eyes roved over your body, carefully taking you in.

He wasn’t even trying to hide it! You were at once extremely self-conscious from the intense scrutiny. Does he like what he sees? You continued your stride towards your destiny, even as a million insecurities bloomed within.

Madara couldn’t look away. His eyes traced your form-fitting black dress, following the lines of your bare legs up to your hips and arms, stopping at a graceful neckline to briefly dip back down to stare at the swell of your breasts. His mouth watered into his glass and he was aware he was being vulgar. He put his wine down before he could drop it and ripped his stare towards your face.

You were dazzling.

He took in your pink face and delicate features enhanced by the lightest touch of makeup. He gave a small genuine smile and pushed out of the cushioned chair.

“Y/N. It’s good to see you again. Thank you for coming.”

“Yes thank you for the invitation. I hope you weren’t waiting long.” What were you supposed to do now? How do you date again? He’s a businessman and talks to important people, important people shake hands, right?

You extend your hand towards him in greeting and add, “It’s good to see you again too.”

Madara chuckled and took your hand in his paw, brushing the backs of your fingers with his thumb before bringing your hand up and pressing his lips to the back.

“No, not long at all. I arrived shortly before you did,” he lied.

Lips parting in shock, you froze. This was not the reception you expected! The useless software in your brain ground to a halt, leaving you at a loss for what to do. Seeing your pause, he chuckled deeply again, the sound going straight to warming your face further, and he pulled out the chair for you, already the perfect gentleman. “I apologize if I was too forward.”

You were already flustered and the date had just begun. You gulped and almost uttered a short prayer to yourself to wish for strength. “Umm, no, we’re okay.” You quickly sat down, as if afraid you might fall over after all and looked away to admire the decor. There were thick silver curtains draped intermittently along the walls, chandeliers setting the mood from high ceilings, everything highlighting the centerpiece of the room, the baby grand piano. It was a gorgeous establishment.

He went around the other chair to present you with a masterfully crafted bouquet of fresh, exotic florals. “This is for you.”

When was the last time you received flowers? You were aware of this date originating from a sugar daddy/baby dynamic and Madara was just playing the part, but you still couldn’t help being slightly flattered. “Thank you. They are beautiful.” You accepted the gift and took a sniff of a particularly large bloom and smiled at Madara.

“Good evening ma’am. How are you? My name is Carlos and I’ll be your server tonight. Could I start you off with something to drink?”

“Yes,” you answered a bit too fast and eagerly. Heavens knew you needed something to give you liquid courage. The words barely registered as you looked over the drink menu before ordering the first thing that sounded good. Carlos paused at your request, but ultimately repeated your order before disappearing. Madara was looking at you thoughtfully.

“How have you been?” You asked him.

“It’s more of the usual business. Deals to negotiate, meetings, paperwork. It’s rather unexciting to talk about me. How have you been these past years?” Madara’s reply was brief, curt. He had his chin on his hand, resting his elbow on the table as he scowled with eyebrows furrowed.

Thinking of the Senju and how Tobirama tried to press him in negotiations only this morning left a foul taste in his mouth. Izuna was the one who was the wordsmith and would never lose to a Senju when it came to creating contracts. But Izuna was only recently back in the game and his priorities were backwards. The first thing he did was set Madara up on a date instead of dealing with Tobirama. No matter. With Izuna by his side again, things will take a turn for the better. The date.

He looked up to see you quiet and staring back at him with wide eyes. Shit. He forced his face into a more neutral expression.

“Here is the white wine you ordered ma’am. It is a French wine from the region of Alsace. It starts with notes of orange blossom and honeyed orchard fruits before building into a richer flavour on the palate. It is a delight.”

You eyed Madara’s glass, then looked over the table and groaned. Madara was already drinking wine. And there was already a bottle of opened wine at your table. Great. Now he thinks I’m a bumbling idiot and a drunkard.

“We could use a second bottle at our table, right? I could drink that,” you deadpanned and grabbed your glass, swirling it quickly before tipping it back. “Delicious.” You take hold of the dinner menu to start studying it, still too flustered to be ready to try talking to Madara again. Madara kept a straight face even if he was crestfallen at your anxiety.

This wasn’t going well anymore. Madara cursed himself. He thought they started off alright, but now? He was used to people being nervous in his presence, but he didn’t want you to be so stressed around him. You looked to him like you wanted to run or melt into the scenery. It didn't feel right. He tried to open himself up and appear softer. He uncrossed his arms.

“Don’t worry about the wine, Y/N.”

Should you not? He looked so disapproving and judgmental. You knew some wine was nothing to a man of Madara’s status, but still, you didn’t want to keep embarrassing yourself. You licked your lips when his eyes stayed focused on you.

“I won’t. I could drink that, as I said.” You resisted the urge to face palm yourself, disbelieving of how you just told a man you’re seeing for the first time in years you drink bottles of wine by yourself. Guess who isn’t getting a follow-up date?

He chuckled again deeply in his chest and you wanted to die at how he kept laughing at you. “Let’s get something to eat first,” he said. The two of you resumed your study of the dinner menus and placed your orders.

Madara watched you again, unhappy at your squirming under his gaze.

“It’s been a long time. How have you been, Y/N?” Hopefully talking about yourself, a more familiar topic, would help ease your nerves. He read that in a psychology book long ago.

“You know, still working at the same hospital. Same annoying problems. I went part-time recently since starting my Master’s.” You hoped he didn’t notice your use of the word “annoying.” It wasn’t like you were calling his brother, a former patient, an “annoying problem.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, to make more time for school. I think I want to leave the bedside and get more specialized so I can either teach or become an NP instead.”

He was happy for you. He’d always respected those who had goals and tried to make more of themselves in life. He was genuinely interested in what you had planned for yourself. He sat back in his seat and asked, “That is fantastic news. How do you like your program so far?”

You and Madara continued to make pleasant conversation. Madara was incredibly interested in what you’ve been up to the past years, but he tried not to let his curiosity sound like an interrogation. He was relieved as you appeared increasingly relaxed as dinner went on.

As the meal came to an end, you declined dessert, stating you were already full. Madara went to get the bill, even if you resisted, stating you will pay for yourself. He dissuaded you of such a notion before completing the transaction, leaving you mildly distraught.

“Come. I will bring you home.” Madara smiled warmly at you and offered his arm, observing as you stepped gingerly down the stairs outside the venue while using him as support, ensuring you wouldn’t trip. He opened the door on your side to his fancy car and closed it after you.

You were both quiet in his car, you fidgeting with the hem of your dress and not looking at him, returning to your previously skittish state. Madara was hyperaware of your presence. You really weren't aware of the effect you had on men around you. Even during dinner, multiple men looked your way to bask in your beauty and grace. While he was also taken in by you, all of you and not just your appearance, he wasn’t anxious himself. He wished you wouldn’t be nervous around him –you had nothing to worry about when you were with him.

He pulled up to the drop-off at your condo.

“Thank you for tonight. I haven’t had such a pleasant time in a long while.” His time was filled with either work, managing Izuna, or merely by himself in peaceful tranquility. Madara was sincere.

“Thank you again for inviting me. You were wonderful.” He really was. Despite your blunders, Madara had been kind the entire night.

You glanced up at him, unsure again, but he looked so dashing you couldn’t help it. Would he let you?

You shyly leaned over towards him and Madara immediately took the invitation. His face was mere inches from yours, when suddenly you chickened out and pecked him on the cheek instead. You wished him goodnight and a safe drive home and scampered away, screaming at yourself and how lame you were as you closed the door to your condo.

Madara stared after you, fingers on his cheek where you were moments ago, at first stunned, then beaming in delight.

My brother’s heart wasn’t the only one that stopped when we saw you.

~To be continued~

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Notes:

I tried to capture the discomfort a normal person would feel when first getting to know Madara. He's seriously intimidating! I’d be nervous too if Madara suddenly dropped into my life, even if he wasn’t trying to kill me and was just being a normal guy. Such is Madara’s presence. Way too intense. I also tried to convey how Madara appears differently in front of loved ones like Izuna and a relative stranger, even if he’s already romantically interested. He really doesn’t know how to express himself well, but he tried. He ended up kind of cute in this one.

By the way, the Reader in this story isn’t me. I’m an ICU nurse in real life, so there are aspects to the character’s thoughts that may resemble mine, particularly with regard to the healthcare system. The frustration and anger there is real, given the current healthcare climate. I sincerely hope I didn’t turn anyone away with my ranting. The Reader is more an amalgamation of different real-life nurses in terms of personality, quirks, and life circumstances which hopefully still comes across as somewhat relatable.

It’s much more realistic for a Registered Nurse who needs extra $ to take a gig with a private nursing company than to go looking for a sugar daddy haha, but I wanted us to meet Madara.

Izuna should have died from his injuries due to cardiac arrest/sepsis/multi-organ failure and be missing parts of his limbs from the epinephrine (one of the pressors that would have been used), but this is fiction and I want good things for him and Madara. So Izuna lives. Come on, as if Madara would find himself on a sugar dating site of his own accord. Of course Izuna was involved.

P.S. This is my first time writing a real fanfiction with a plot in over a decade. I guess Madara inspires me. I found this lighter tone a bit hard to write. Please let me know what you think!