I've Been Searching For This Story For MONTHS!!

I've been searching for this story for MONTHS!!

come the rain

domini album

#6 Madara Uchiha

summary: in which, with rain comes truth.

word count: 6,197

a/n: i...i honestly can't bring myself to apologize for the length of this one / inspired by the bottom-center concept of madara in this drawing

warnings: izuna being a little shit (how many times have i used this warning now??); indirect mention of d*nzo; partial nudity (madara)

Izuna wasn’t at the Head Household like he said he would be, which, in itself, wouldn’t have been all that irritating if it weren’t for the fact that you’d inconsequentially let yourself into a home where not you best friend was, but his older brother, of whom you were now caught in an unexpected stare down with from the entry hall.

You awkwardly cleared your throat, “Madara-sama.”

You weren’t unfamiliar with Izuna’s brother, and there’d been plenty of times you’d found yourself in conversation with him before, but it was always strained and tedious to navigate – more difficult to participate in than even conversations with Tobirama, the man of few words that he was – though you were never sure if it was on your part or his.

Probably yours.

Since the signing of peace and the foundation of Konohagakure, the Uchiha Clan had become less of a constant threat to your Senju-aligned clan, and you’d become friends with Izuna over many months of mutual exasperation over the meetings you were trapped in as your clans’ heirs, and your complainings had eventually sparked a debate that turned into a spar that had left you both laying on your backs on one of the training grounds, laughing breathlessly at his singed hair and your burnt clothes. Comradery had come easily after that, and Hashirama had taken to putting you on mission and patrol teams together which had only strengthened your friendship over the last two and a half years since the village’s founding.

Madara tilted his head slightly, regarding you from where he sat on a zabuton at the end of the chabudai. The shoji doors of the porch were opened, inviting the chill of the morning into the house, and you could see the greenery of the central garden beyond the deck, leaves gleaming in the overcast rain.

“Do you make it a habit of letting yourself in to other people’s houses?” Madara drawled, finally relaxing the hand he’d had suspended, chopsticks pinched between his fingers, and you realized that he was eating his breakfast, the smell of steamed rice and fish reaching you from across the room.

You were still holding onto the latch of the door, and your fingers fumbled to pull it open again. “Ah – my apologies, Madara-sama. Izuna said he would be here, but he’s not, so I’ll just –”

Madara let out a short huff and waved his hand lackadaisically, chopsticks swimming in the air with the gesture. “You’re inside already – there’s no use in waiting outside in the rain.”

You paused, the door partially pulled open, unsure that you’d heard the Clan Leader correctly.

You glanced back at him, and felt your face warm when you met his eyes again, one of his eyebrows raised expectantly. Damn it, Izuna.

Slowly, you shut the door and tugged off your boots, leaving them alongside the spot where Izuna’s were supposed to be as you silently crossed through the opened sitting area to the dining room Madara was in. You hesitantly lowered yourself onto the nearest zabuton at the square table, folding your hands in your lap as you forced yourself to sit comfortably.

Madara’s chopsticks clicked against his plate.

“You can help yourself,” he said, gesturing with his chin toward the place setting that was no doubt meant for Izuna, but was – for obvious reasons – left untouched.

“Ah, thank you, Madara-sama,” you replied, cringing inwardly as you added, “but I ate at home already.”

You could feel his gaze on the side of your face as you made faux purpose in tugging loose the fabric of your pants bunched around your knee. Kami, you could punch Izuna in his aristocrat nose for subjecting you to this awkwardness with his brother, before eight in the morning no less.

“What plans did you and my brother have this morning?” Madara asked after a moment.

You glanced up at him again, and then suddenly realized that while you were wearing in the becoming-standard jōnin uniform, Madara was dressed only in a loosely tied navy blue yukata that hung open around his torso, one sleeve nearly slipping off of his shoulder and showing the edge of raised scar tissue along his collarbone.

You felt your face heat instantaneously and you furtively looked away, locking your sights on one of the leafy ferns in the garden in front of you as you tried to force the image of the man next to you from your mind.

He was hardly dressed, and you’d barged into his house, and Kami – his chest; there had to be a god or two out there laughing at you right now, because there wasn’t a version of reality you could imagine Izuna not cracking up if he found out about this.

“We were going to visit the weapons shops in the Eastern Sector,” you answered, keeping your gaze in the garden. “Tobirama mentioned yesterday that a new merchant was approved to sell in the market, and we were going evaluate his quality.”

Madara released a quiet hum. “I doubt Tobirama would let anyone sell in the weapons market if their wares didn’t meet the regulation standard.”

His stare was still on the side of your face.

“Call it curiosity, Madara-sama,” you said, tapping the hilt of one of your own kunai strapped in its brace around your thigh. “Izuna needs to replace his shuriken stock since our last mission anyway.”

Madara snorted. “I hope he told you that at a distance from the compound, should any of the ninbyō overhear him and tell Nekobaa he intends to buy from another weapons dealer.”

You smiled, remembering a particular story Izuna had told you months ago when you’d gotten him decidedly drunk from shōchū and he’d told you about the childish fears that had plagued him for years on end about the Uchiha Clan’s infamous munitions keepers in Sora-ku. Apparently he’d done one ninbyō wrong in stepping on her paw and it was only the pact between their groups that kept the feline’s claws out of his eyes; didn’t save the rest of his face, however, which explained the thin scar that cut a line from the edge of his left eye. For over a decade you’d thought it was a mark left on him by Tobirama, but you’d been hysterical to find out it was from a cat, of all things.

“I think he’d plant a garden of catnip to appease your Nekobaa if it meant keeping the ninbyō away from his face,” you chuckled, glancing toward Madara again before you could think better of it. The sight of his smile caught you off guard, his lips pulling into the swell of his cheek as he shook his head slightly as he lifted rice to his mouth. The expression was uninhibited by any level of decorum that you usually saw him with in clan meetings and events, and it was different from the smiles he shared with both Izuna and Hashirama; it looked private, a glimpse behind the outward projection of Madara Uchiha, Leader of the Uchiha Clan that you knew and just Madara Uchiha, a man who ate fish and rice for breakfast. And somehow, conversation with this Madara was easier than any other conversation you’d had with him before.

“Ah, he told you the story of his abuse of poor Mimiko?” Madara asked, amusement clear in his voice as he ate his rice.

“‘His abuse of poor Mimiko’?” you parroted, giving a short laugh. “Izuna is the one still scared of cats to this day – isn’t he the abused one?”

Madara smiled that same, private smile. “He hasn’t stepped on any paws since then, has he?”

“No,” you laughed again, and shook your head, “I guess he hasn’t.”

Madara gave a soft hum of agreement and then silence blanketed the conversation, leaving you in another limbo. Madara had finished his rice and had picked up a cup of tea, propping his other elbow on his raised knee as he rested his head against the heel of his palm and stared out at the gentle downpour over the garden. The shift in his positioning had opened his yukata further and you snapped your eyes away before you followed the line of a newly revealed, particularly thick-looking scar that spanned down his chest into the folds of his robe, if only to keep your face from heating again the longer you stared unsolicited at him, and glanced at the opened Uchiha Main House.

You’d been in the house a dozen times at least over the years, but you’d never seen it opened up like this during the rainy season, especially when you knew Izuna hated how the smell of wet soil seemed to never leave his clothes no matter how often he washed them. Come to think of it, Izuna didn’t even like the rain – he’d blamed his Uchiha blood and said that no one in a clan with a predominant fire affinity liked the rain, but the way that Madara stared out at the rain made you wonder if Izuna had spoken too generally.

Your eyes trailed back to him, and you were careful to keep your gaze on his face as you studied him.

There was a difference in him now than from what you were usually familiar with. When you’d first met Madara, he was still jagged around the edges from the stress of the war and the stretch of his already thin patience it took to garner in peace with Hashirama while fending off his Elder Council with their combative conversative politics and traditions. Izuna was hardly any help, you knew, since he took to taunting Tobirama into arguments – “A passive aggressive way in which to get revenge,” he’d explained after showing you the scar that should’ve been a death blow over his heart from the other heir’s ninjatō – that you had the pleasure of interjecting upon by request of Hashirama and thus spurring the argument between you and Izuna that had spawned your friendship.

The man sitting beside you now held none of that tension in his shoulders, and there was a feeling of…serenity that seemed rest around him as you continued to watch him stare into the rain, dōjutsu disarmed and none of his usual weapons adorning his body at all. To anyone who didn’t know him, Madara could have been a handsome stranger, a man who was mysterious by the presence of his scars, but could be anyone or no one at all. A part of you had always wondered if he had wanted to be Madara Uchiha, Leader of the Uchiha Clan, or if he’d only accepted the role as it had fallen into his lap with the death of his older brother – another story from another time when the shōchū brought out Izuna’s darker nightmares instead of his laugher. Who might Madara have been then, if not the man he was now?

A rice farmer, Izuna had jested, but a really shitty one.

A cool breeze swept into the house, making you shiver slightly.

You glanced away from Madara’s face and toward the open shogi doors. “Aren’t you cold, Madara-sama?”

Madara looked at you, and then shrugged slightly. “Uchiha run hotter than other shinobi,” he replied.

Yeah, no kidding, you nearly muttered aloud, acutely aware of his opened yukata and the attractive tilt of his head as he regarded you, but bit into the flesh of your cheek to stop the words from taking shape.

Instead, you nodded, and asked, “Madara-sama, do you know when Izuna is supposed to come back?”

You glanced at the Clan Leader and tensed when you found yourself meeting his eyes full on for the first time since initially coming into the house. You could see it when he squinted slightly at you.

“Why do you use the honorific?” he asked, but it took you a moment to process his words. You’d obviously made eye contact with him before – it was impossible to not at times, when the whole world seemed to gravitate toward him, you yourself locked him his orbit whether he knew it or not – but this was not the version of him that you were familiar with; there were no pretenses in his expressions as spoke to you.

You swallowed. “I-I’m sorry?”

Madara tilted his head again slightly, a section of his hair falling off of his shoulder and showing more of his chest. “You address me with the honorific, but not when you talk to my brother, Hashirama, Tobirama, or the other clan heirs,” he explained. “We’ve known each other for just as long, have we not?”

Your brow furrowed as he spoke. You had always addressed him with the honorific of his title, even though you’d been friends with his brother for years now, and even familiar with most members of his clan. It’d never really been intentional, not until you realized that calling him by his name alone meant more to you than just being his friend. “I – yes,” you said, struggling to find a proper response. “It’s just – you’re a clan leader,” you tried, and then immediately winced at your own words. Hashirama was just as much a clan leader as Madara was, and you’d gotten away with calling him ‘Hashi’ by accident before while you’d been in a hurry.

One of Madara’s dark eyebrow rose again as he watched you try to parse out an answer.

“But it’s your name,” you tried, and chewed your lip at his blank look. You rubbed your temple. “We’ve never really spoken, Madara-sama, like I have with Izuna, or Hashirama and Tobirama, and the others,” you clarified. “It’s different from them.”

“We’ve spoken many times before,” he replied, dropping his knee, and crossing his arms over his chest. “How is it any different?”

You wondered where you’d found the shovel that you were currently digging your hole deeper with.

You chewed the inside of your cheek. “You’re not them,” you said, and watched Madara angle his chin. “I mean – that’s obvious, but I mean, you’re different. It’s just –” You blew an exasperated breath as his expression became more guarded, that ease he’d had slipping away with every word you spoke.

“You’re not like this, out there,” you blurted out, gesturing toward his sitting figure. Kami, you were glad the Uchiha didn’t have the same hearing abilities that the Inuzuka and Hatake did, else he’d no doubt hear your heart hammering against your ribcage. “This is different from when you’re out there, with them,” you kept talking. “You’re quieter, and…softer, I guess. It’s different, and not bad, at all,” you added, gauging the narrowing of his eyes again. Izuna would be rolling on the floor if he were here to witness this. “You’re just Madara right now,” you rubbed the side of your neck, ignoring the heat there, “not Mangekyō no Madara, the Uchiha Warlord. Just…Madara.”

A long moment of silence hung between the two of you, only the sound of the gentle downpour on the roof and in the garden to fill the air with a level of noise until Madara cleared his throat and his expression lost some of its hardness.

“Just Madara,” he said slowly, and then you felt the energy of the room shift as his dōjutsu activated suddenly, red bleeding through the hickory brown of his irises. The instinct to avert your eyes gripped you, but…you could feel the weight of his stare and there was something significant in it as you stared into the interlocking black tomoe. “Mangekyō no Madara, the Uchiha Warlord – how is he different from ‘Just Madara’?”

There was something incredibly beautiful about the Sharingan in a way that nothing else you had ever seen in your life compared. The dōjutsu was a weapon just as much as it was simply just another tool, and you’d seen plenty of patterns over the years you’d spent living alongside the Uchiha, but none of their eyes were quite as enthralling as their clan leader’s.

“Mangekyō no Madara, the Uchiha Warlord would rather me not drop the honorific,” you finally replied as you stared back at his kekkei genkai. Your heartbeat was thundering in your chest. “And he’d want me to be intimidated by his dōjutsu.”

Madara grunted. “And you think ‘Just Madara’ doesn’t want you to be as well?”

“I think if you wanted me to be intimidated, you would’ve put me in a genjutsu,” you answered evenly. His gaze narrowed again, and then you watched as he leaned onto the table, propping his cheek against his knuckles and exposing more of his chest to you. It was yet another effort to keep your eyes on his face and ignore just how much of him you could see around his robe.

“What if I’ve had you in a genjutsu since you entered the house and first looked at me?” he questioned, still staring at you. The intensity of his gaze was unwavering, but there was something different in the way that he gave you his undivided attention versus how you’d seen him trap other members of the leader council with his stare – there was no true intimidation in his eyes. “What if this ‘Just Madara’ lives only in a fictitious image I created?”

“You’d have to find inspiration for ‘Just Madara’ from somewhere then,” you replied easily, ignoring the urge in your gut to look away from him. By no means were you afraid of him, but he did slightly intimidate you at times, though for reasons unrelated to his rank or kekkei genkai. “And you don’t have a reason to put me in a genjutsu.”

“You broke into my home,” he replied.

You raised an eyebrow. “The door was unlocked and Izuna told me just come in last night when we’d made the plans.”

A short silence rose, punctuated by a distant roll of thunder, and then Madara spoke again.

“You’re not afraid at all of my Sharingan, are you?” he asked.

You frowned slightly. You’d never held his eye contact for this long before, especially not while his Sharingan were activated, but you could read no threat in his expression, only feel the weight of some unspoken significance between you.

“I’m not afraid of the man they belong to,” you softly corrected him.

Both of Madara’s eyebrows rose and his head righted just slightly. “You’re not afraid of me?”

You loosed a breathy laugh. “If I was ever your enemy again, then I very much would be, because now I know the man beyond Mangekyō no Madara, the Uchiha Warlord, and…” you chewed your lip again, “and I wouldn’t want to have to fight him.”

Madara’s gaze shifted over your face, tracing over your eyes, then down the side of your cheek, across mouth and then up over your nose and back to your eyes again, like he was memorizing face.

“I wouldn’t want to fight you either,” he finally replied.

You chuckled. “I’d be like a warm-up, and you’d kill me within ten minutes – we’re on two different levels of abilities.”

He lowered his propped arm so that his arms crossed on the table, and the way that he stared at you sobered the lighthearted humor in you.

“I wouldn’t raise a hand nor weapon against you,” he said.

You blinked, momentarily blindsided by the raw honesty in his voice.

“I suppose that makes sense, since we’re comrades now,” you said slowly, heartbeat somehow sluggish now in your chest.

Madara tilted his head at you. “Among other things.”

“‘Among other things’?” You parroted, your brow furrowing as you sat upright.

He raised an eyebrow. “Do you think I’d let just anyone see me in my nightclothes?”

Your lips parted and you glanced at his chest again despite your better judgement, and then jerked your line of sight away, toward the wall, though you could see the smirk on Madara’s face in your periphery.

“Hashirama?” you offered weakly, staring pointedly at the garden again.

He gave you a flat look. “Exempting the deified tree idiot from you and Izuna.”

You and Izuna.

If there was one thing that you knew foremost before any other thing about Madara Uchiha it was that his most treasured possession was his love for his brother, followed closely by his friendship with Hashirama and the responsibility he took seriously as the leader of his clan. Three pillars of his personality that you’d come to be familiar with very early on once coming to the village that had provided the foundation for the understanding of him.

He’d said, you and Izuna – what did that mean?

Your gaze slid back to him again.

“So, you’d of put more clothes on if I wasn’t the one breaking in, then?” you asked, trying to joke but lacking the tease in your voice.

One of Madara’s eyebrows rose. “With the way you’ve been stealing looks at me all morning, I thought you quite liked seeing me in little clothing.”

Your eyes widened and you felt your face burn as you ducked your head. This man – when had he become so…so–

Kami – this was not how you expected your morning to go.

“I –”

You shut your mouth as soon as you noticed the smile on Madara’s face, amusement clear in his expression. Yet another expression that you weren’t accustomed to, not without the standard pretense of him fulfilling some kind of social expectation of himself in meetings and village celebrations – and you liked it. That air of serenity seemed to only thicken around him as he smiled at you, his eyebrow rising again when you both realized you were staring at him.

Awkwardly, you cleared your throat. “I wasn’t looking at your chest,” you lied, “I – um…” Madara rested his chin against his knuckles again, expression expectant. You faltered, indignant. “You’re enjoying this.”

Tobirama had always compared the Uchiha to cats, but you couldn’t help but find more similarities between Madara and a tanuki right now.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Madara replied, the lilt of his tone making it clear that he knew exactly what it was you were talking about.

You cut the clan leader a look. “Madara-sama, has anyone ever told you before that you’re terribly overconfident?”

You saw him try to suppress a smirk before he replied, “Now, now, (Y/N), don’t you think if you’re going to insult me, you should at least drop the honorific so I know you’re only teasing?”

You bit into your cheek to stop yourself from smiling back at him as you said, “It’s not teasing if it’s true, Madara-sama.”

He raised his eyebrow again. “So you are trying to insult a clan leader, (Y/N)?” he asked, shifting his knuckles over his mouth in a weak attempt to hide his smirk.

You sniffed. “It’s said that the truth sometimes hurts, Madara-sama.”

He chuckled. “You know, I could order you to not address me with that honorific.”

You gave him another look. “I don’t have to listen to your orders, Madara-sama – you’re not the jōnin commander nor am I an Uchiha.”

He regarded you for a moment. “But I could make you one.”

You felt the blood drain from your face and your lips parted in shock –

Madara snorted and laughed at your expense, shaking his head. “That was teasing, (Y/N),” he chuckled.

Like a whiplash, your felt your face heat from sickening embarrassment, and you looked away from him, having to grit your teeth in the attempt to not scowl. Something in you felt wounded and annoyed with your own self for having fallen so easily into bantering with him that you’d entertained the idea of his teasing as being more than just that.

He was still chuckling at your reaction when you cleared your throat and made to stand.

“Since your brother isn’t here,” you spoke neutrally, “I’ll be leaving now, Uchiha-sama.” You saw his brow furrow in your periphery, but you ignored his expression as you unfolded your legs and shifted your balance.

“Eager to have Izuna make you an Uchiha then?” Madara asked as you began to cross the sitting room, back toward the door. You scoffed quietly at his question, irritation not only with yourself and your own foolishness growing, but also toward him, for pressing the wound.

You muttered under your breath and reached for your boots, but your hand was blocked in the same breath that Madara appeared in front of you, a surge of chakra from his shunshin the only warning you’d had to retract your arm.

“What did you say?” he questioned, tone flat and not unlike the voice he took in council meetings.

“Nothing, Uchiha-sama,” you said, making to move around him, but he blocked your path again with his body, making you bite your tongue to keep from forgoing your boots entirely and shunshinning onto the path outside the Uchiha Compound.

“Why are you calling me that?” he demanded, blocking you again when you tried to go around his left.

You clenched your jaw. “I’m not calling you anything, Uchiha-sama.”

The muscle in his jaw feathered, a telltale sign of his short patience. “I told you to drop the honorific, not tack on formalities.”

You let your eyes meet his again, trying to keep your expression flat and combined embarrassment and irritation concealed. “You’re a clan leader, Uchiha-sama,” you replied in a mechanical voice. “I shouldn’t insult you with less.”

His Sharingan gaze narrowed, not quite pinning you to the spot but making you wholly aware of him and just how close he stood to you, hardly more than an arm’s length between your chests.

“What did you say when you turned your back to me?” he demanded again.

“It’s of little importance, Uchiha-sama,” you answered, stare unwavering.

You went to step around him again, but his hand lashed and caught your wrist, making you instaneously stiffen.

“You are afraid of me,” Madara said, grip firm as he glanced between your rigid arm and your face.

You suddenly wanted, for all the world, Izuna to come back from wherever he’d gone, if only to rescue you from this conversation.

“Not for the reasons you think, Uchiha-sama,” you answered sharply, staring ahead at the door until Madara yanked you closer to him, filling your line of sight with his face.

You sucked in a sharp breath at the sudden proximity, but he didn’t grant you the opportunity to react before he asked again, “What did you say when you turned your back to me?”

This close to his face, you could see each of the long lashes that framed his Sharingan eyes, and the light smattering of tiny scars near his temple. This close, and the world narrowed down to a singular point in the shape of him as he filled your senses, drowning out the rain, the house, and all else. Your orbit finally brought you to the star itself.

You exhaled a slow breath through your nose and then let the tension bleed from your shoulders, out of your arms, and held his gaze as you replied, just loud enough to be heard, “I said, ‘Wrong brother.’”

Silence crept in through the house again as you stared at each other, his grip unwavering on your wrist that he’d tucked into his chest when he’d pulled you into him. Your hand was curled into a fist, but you could feel the warmth of his skin against your closed fingers, and beyond that –

His heart was racing.

The realization made your eyes drop from his to his chest, your brows pulling together as his fingers seemed to curl tighter around your wrist before they relaxed and his grip spread over your hand, pushing your palm flat over his chest, your fingers beneath the fabric of his robe.

“Why do you say my name with the honorific?” Madara asked again, his fingers slotted over yours, the scars on your knuckles making disjointed patterns with his.

You blinked, looking back up at him. “Because it means something else to me without it.”

He never looked away from you, not as he raised his other hand to the side of your face, touching his fingertips to your cheek.

“Say my name,” he said softly.

Your brow furrowed, just slightly, as his thumb touched the edge of your mouth, and you spoke softly, “Madara.”

You felt his heartbeat fasten beneath your hand, and then yours might as well of matched it when he slid his thumb beneath your chin and raised your face, and then –

Madara was kissing you.

You sucked in a sharp breath, but shock hardly lasted more than a moment as he slanted his mouth against yours, cradling your face with both his hands as your hands found a grip on his robe. Over and over, he kissed you, tracing your bottom lip with his tongue before one of your hands climbed up to his neck, fingers carding through the dark hair at his nape, and a soft noise like a grunt left him as he shifted closer to you. His kisses were consuming, all-encompassing and this was gravity, you realized, the effect of coming too close to a star and meeting it in a collision, the inevitable destruction of what was once two separate things and the formation of something else – something new and created in the combination of debris. This was a calamity, and you welcomed it, fully and completely, giving entirely into the forces that predetermined this gravitational impact.

A sharp whistle suddenly sounded from the central garden, and you sprang back from Madara as Izuna leapt down from one of the red maple trees onto the porch with all his usual flourish, damp from the rain but smirking all the same. “I must say, there’s nothing seeing my beloved brother finally kissing my dear friend to make my morning more interesting.”

You blinked as Madara scowled, one of your hands now tangled with his, though he stood slightly behind you.

“‘Finally?’” you questioned.

“Oh yes – finally,” Izuna snorted.

“Always purposeful with your timing, aren’t you, otōto?” Madara drawled, languidly. His posture had changed, but you could see a flush of pink over his face and neck, unconcealed by his tone.

Izuna made a show of sitting down on the porch and yanking off his boots, the smirk never leaving his face as he did so.

“Of course, aniki – I couldn’t risk leaving you unattended for very long, you know,” he replied airily. “Who knows what you two would’ve gotten up to if I hadn’t come back from that random errand you sent me on when I did.”

You cocked your head suspiciously at Madara. “You sent Izuna on an errand this morning?”

Izuna called from the porch, “Only after he found out you were supposed to be meeting me here.”

“Izuna,” Madara warned.

Izuna, the only heir to the mighty Uchiha Clan, stuck his tongue out at his brother as he crossed the room in bare feet. “Now that you’ve gotten a few good kisses in on my best friend, I think it’s fair time to embarrass you thoroughly.” He came up next to you, propping his arm on your shoulder as he asked you, “Don’t you think?”

“Izuna, I will demote you,” Madara warned again, glare cutting.

Izuna brightened, “Oh! I’m to be an uncle already?”

You jammed your elbow into Izuna’s ribs with little thought, cheeks burning with heat as you glared at your best friend and wholly ignored Madara’s startled expression.

“Traitor,” Izuna wheezed, holding his side with one hand and bending over with his opposite hand on your shoulder for balance.

“Me a traitor?” you demanded, rounding on the younger Uchiha. “You – you –!” You couldn’t stop the breath of laughter that escaped you, cutting off your tirade. You could see Madara smiling at you in his periphery, amusement clear on his face along with something like relief. “You’re impossible, Izuna,” you finally said, shaking your head.

“You’re the one kissing my brother!” Izuna puffed back, throwing his hand out at Madara, who had crossed his arms over his chest and raised an unimpressed eyebrow at the heir. “And here I thought one morning of your sheer awkwardness and his hate of being interrupted over breakfast would cancel out and I’d finally be relieved of hearing the blind pining you two do after each other constantly!”

Your face felt like it was burning – blind pining you two do after each other constantly.

Madara made faux work of picking at his index finger with his thumb, giving Izuna a look out of the corner of his eye. “You forget that I invite (Y/N)’s company whenever possible, otōto.”

And wasn’t that true – how many gatherings and meetings had you attended over the years where you eventually found yourself somehow at Madara’s side? You’d lost count. And now this morning, where he’d invited you to sit at the table with him, despite the early hour and him being hardly dressed.

Do you think I’d let just anyone see me in my nightclothes?

“Oh, excuse me, aniki,” Izuna rolled his eyes, a smirk growing along his lips, “I must’ve forgotten sometime between last year and this morning.”

You blinked. “Last year?”

“Oh, this obsession with you didn’t happen overnight, (Y/N)-chan,” Izuna cooed, and absolutely grinning at Madara’s scathing glare and your shocked expression. “My dear aniki decided to fall in love with you the moment you verbally filleted that Shimura heir over the dinner at Midsummer last year. What was it you said, Madara? Something like –”

“Izuna, I will banish you from the compound,” Madara ground out, wholly ignoring your widening eyes.

Fall in love?

It was only propriety that kept your jaw from dropping – Madara was in love with you?

Izuna waved him off, continuing, “You said, ‘She’s going to be my wife.’” A lick of flame darted towards Izuna’s pants, but he leapt back, snickering as he did. “Aniki! No need to get so heated! Save that for your future wife!”

“Izuna!” Madara shouted, while you bit down on your bottom lip, face hot and trying to not laugh as Izuna darted away.

“I’m going – I’m going! I can see that you need privacy!” he snickered, winking at you as he dodged another well-aimed katon jutsu spiraling for his face and then vanished into one of the hallways of the house.

A beat of silence, and then you couldn’t help the small laugh that left you. Madara’s attention immediately snapped back toward you, and he was still scowling, but when you laughed again, he gauged your expression with a guarded look.

“Somehow, I don’t think you planned on telling me this morning that you wanted to marry me,” you said neutrally, though still internally reeling from what Izuna had said.

She’s going to be my wife.

That was not just a simple thing to say, especially from a clan leader.

Madara crossed his arms over his chest, still looking irritated, though you knew it was more or less directed toward his brother. “No, not this morning,” he replied, jaw clenching like he was reluctant to give up more of his intentions than he’d expected to.

You stepped closer to him, watching him watch you back, Sharingan eyes fixed on your face. His arms slackened as you came close enough to touch a hand to the side of his face, as bold as you dared, and you felt his hands settle lightly over your hips. You leaned into him, holding again to the front of his robe with one hand as the other hand slipped into the hair at the nape of his neck, bringing his face closer to yours as you struggled to not outright grin at him, though his eyes flicked between your smile and your eyes. At your waist, his fingers tightened their grip, his focus never once leaving you as he tilted his head, and you whispered against his lips, “Tell me you love me this morning then.”

This close, you could see your reddened reflection in his Sharingan, and saw the last of his irritation toward his brother melt away as he raised a hand to your face, brushing his fingers over your cheek.

“I love you,” he said, hardly more than a breath against your lips.

You smiled, heart racing, and pressed your forehead against his. “I love you too.”

He pressed his lips to yours again, and you could feel him smiling even as he kissed you, one of his hands sliding to the small of your back and pulling you closer as the other one folded itself over yours on his chest. Again, he became the center of everything, all else fading as you lost yourself in him.

Though, you startled when Izuna suddenly shouted through the house, “I would like a niece to spoil first!”

None of Madara’s kisses could silence the laughter that burst from you.

Tags

madara madara fanfiction What perfection

Twin Flames- Ch. 2

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

Warnings: “sugar daddy” Madara x Nurse!Reader, romance, hurt/comfort, dating, handholding, masturbation, Madara’s birthday celebration

Words: 5596 On AO3

You were back in your territory at the hospital. It felt good to be back in control and not like a floundering baby hippo in the presence of the hottest man you’ve had in your life.

Today was just another typical shift. As always, you started off the day already mildly irritated at baseline and it built from there. But you and your coworkers always trudged through it somehow.

You had to remind yourself as your patient’s mother continuously wailed over her son’s state that while it was just another day at work for you, it was the worst period of this lady’s life. You patiently explained to her your observations about her son status, that while he was indeed still very sick, there was no need for immediate panic at the moment.

You exhaled in exasperation once she couldn’t see you. Coming down the hall to inform your charge nurse of the family’s request to be approved for longer visiting hours, you instead found a small group of staff huddled at the nursing station. There was an enormous bouquet with a card and a huge pile of individually boxed and decorated cupcakes from a nearby famous bakery.

Treats! Oh my, Madara knew how to get in nurses’ hearts. Quality treats, not just the usual cold boxed coffee from a bad franchise or the worst pizza the managers could get them. Hmm you considered maybe these gifts could be from Izuna too.

“Look! Y/N! Madara and Izuna remember you too! You’re mentioned in the card. Seems like Izuna is now fully recovered and they want to thank everyone for their care. That’s so kind of them. It’s been years.” One of the respiratory therapists filled you in and re-read the contents of the card.

“For sure. I still can’t believe Izuna made a turnaround. I was sure he’d be gone multiple times,” you replied. It was certainly a nice gesture, even if everyone was just doing their jobs. Their appreciation meant a lot, for instance, reminding you of why you went into this freaking profession to begin with. A part of your heart raged in contempt and disdain for the backhanded slap your local politicians gave in their latest mockery of an interview. Such disrespect.

You plucked a cutely decorated cupcake saying “red velvet” on the box from the table before disappearing into the staff lounge for your break. After heating your lunch, you noticed an unread message. Madara. Since the first date, you and Madara had been on several long phone calls, as well as texting daily.

Madara was asking if you’d taken your breaks yet today and if you liked the cupcakes. You let him know just started your lunch break and will have his treats soon. You thanked him.

“We could never thank you and everyone there enough. You saved Izuna,” his message read.

“We were just doing our jobs, Madara.” You replied.

“Even if you were just doing your jobs, the level of empathy and dedication you’ve shown wasn’t a requirement in the delivery of care. You’ve been above and beyond the entire time. Nothing we do in return will ever be enough.” You flushed, even if he wasn’t there to see it.

“Would you like to come over tonight? I can pick you up after work,” he offered.

Huh? “But it’d be so late! And you never know if I can even leave on time. Something could always pop up, and then I’d be even later! It’d be too much trouble! And I look like a raccoon after work. I woke up at 0500. And I’m usually in a poor mood after work and not sociable. I’d be terrible company!” You rambled. Oh my gosh. You’re going to his place already? Is he trying to sleep with you? The other part of your mind was more preoccupied with how awful you looked after a 12-hr shift.

“I will wait for you. Don’t worry, you’re not inconveniencing me. If you come over instead of us going out, you can shower while I finish cooking dinner. You can rest. I already have food prepared.”

You didn’t reply right away, so he added, “Just dinner, Y/N. No pressure for anything else.”

It was hard to argue with Madara, especially when you would love dinner and not have to scramble after work to figure out what to eat. Your only excuses were your worries about your appearance and visiting his house so soon. It wasn’t even like you were against going to bed with Madara, but you’d be exhausted and feeling raw before the date began. You agreed to see him again tonight anyways.

“Good. I will see you tonight.” He sounded pleased even if it was just a text.

The rest of the shift passed by uneventfully, until the end.

It wasn’t even your patient, but your friend’s in an adjacent room who started deteriorating with only an hour left in the shift. Of course, the witching hour. Caught up in the whirlwind of activity to try stabilizing this patient, you fell behind on your own tasks for your patient. It was 40 minutes after the usual time you’d leave the hospital when you were finished. Oh no, Madara.

You grabbed your belongings and rushed out to the hospital drop-off where you agreed to meet him and spotted him standing with his eyes closed, hands in his pockets and a leg crossed over the other.

“Madara! I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry to keep you waiting this long. I—“ a simple apology couldn’t adequately begin to describe how badly you felt.

He waved off your apology and opened the door for you. “I said I would wait for you, didn’t I?” Receiving such a sincere apology was strange, yet refreshing, to him. “Are you okay?” He suggested bringing you back to his place because he knew you’d be tired. He didn’t want you to worry about your next meal or going out. He didn’t mind waiting on you. The intention was to take care of you so you could rest, not to be a cause of more stress. Irritation tugged at his mind, but his features were practiced and smooth.

“I’m okay. Just really tired.”

The short ride back to his condo was generally quiet aside from a few more apologies while you were trying to settle in. Madara decided against bringing you back to his main residence in another part of the city. Partly because Izuna was there and he didn’t want to deal with him with you there. And another because this condo was close to your hospital.

He turned into his parking spot and you took an elevator to the top floor with him.

--------------- You stepped into a modern work of art. Minimalist soft leather furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the downtown lakeside skyline, a spiraling glass staircase that led to what was presumably a bedroom, high ceilings. A waterfall feature cascaded over a crystalline wall in the middle of the room backlit by artistic lighting. Wow, you paused to absorb the sight.

“Your house is beautiful,” you told Madara.

“Make yourself at home.” He held out his arms to help you out of your jacket, hanging it in the entrance closet. The heady aromas of heavy meats wafted into your sinuses and your stomach growled loudly. You were famished.

Madara smiled at you. “The washroom is this way.” He began to head down a hall when you informed him of your lack of alternative clothing. “I will find something for you.” He replied, not even breaking his stride.

---------------

You left the shower feeling slightly ridiculous, but much more comfortable. You were wearing Madara’s t-shirt and shorts, if it could be considered that. It was more like his clothing was using you as a hanging rack, the pieces of fine clothing much too large for your frame. The sleek silk felt luxurious on your skin though. Madara made no comments about your appearance upon seeing you, but he looked amused and pleased with himself, to your consternation.

“Dinner is ready.” He presented a spread of options. Your fleeting vexation vaporized upon seeing what he prepared, your eyes wide and salivating. “Madara, this is way too much!” The scent you nosed earlier was a roast beef tenderloin, too large a portion for only two people. There were also creamy mashed potatoes, some sort of fresh green salad, garlic bread, and an array of appetizers.

“Better to indulge in excess than insufficiency when entertaining. There is dessert as well if you would like.”

“I can’t complain. I am starving. May I help myself?” You were ready to load everything onto your plate.

“Go ahead. I’d be worried if you were left hungry. Would you like a glass? I heard you liked wine.” He popped open a bottle of red while looking at you with a knowing smirk.

Your eye twitched lightly, reminding yourself to mind your manners even if you were mentally and physically worn. Your plates filled, you dug in, accepting a glass of wine from your rather impromptu date of the night. The flavours and textures of every bite was heavenly. You closed your eyes and moaned, a part of you mildly surprised a well-off man like Madara could cook like this.

“I take it the food is to your liking?” He asked with pride.

You made a sound of agreement. “Yes this is amazing.” You continued to sate yourself on Madara’s kitchen creations. “Thank you…for everything you’ve done tonight…” You trailed off.

Adrenaline from earlier still kicked in your veins, but as your mind relaxed, your body now washed and fed after over 12 long numbing hours, you started to feel human again. You looked at Madara funny, an inexplicable feeling taking over you. You felt vulnerable with this powerful man who was still new to you, who still made you anxious and self-conscious. And this same man took care of you like you were precious and worthwhile. Cursing the emotional instability that wasn’t unusual post-shift, you suddenly found yourself in tears.

At first it was only a few silent tears you wiped away when Madara wasn’t looking. The feeling of being overwhelmed and out of your element however wasn’t so easily erased. It wasn’t even a horrible shift. Were you sad? Confused? Just completely worn out and depleted? What was happening?

“Y/N?” Madara asked in alarm and straightened to attention. He stood from his chair and tread over towards you. “What is wrong?” He replayed the events of tonight in an attempt to elucidate what could be the cause of your distress, if there was something he may have said or done as well. Madara brought himself down to your level and took your hands in his. He was equally befuddled.

Cheeks now flaming in embarrassment, you shook your head wildly. “I –I don’t know... I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin this or be a bother. I shouldn’t have come here tonight after all. I can go.” Panic set in and you regressed to your way of evasion in times of emotional turmoil. But he didn’t let you flee.

Madara hugged you, distantly noticing the true size difference between you for the first time now that you were so close.

“Don’t go. You can let it out when you’re with me. It’s okay.” Madara was in truth also distressed. But the raging urge to comfort you remained strong despite such a feeling being a rather foreign sentiment in his normal life. His discordant emotions clashed, with the urge to provide comfort to you triumphing over his own unease. He held you more tightly to himself, stroking your back and softly uttering words of encouragement while you kept apologizing.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It wasn’t even like I had a terrible day. I just—“ You tried to remember your training. Despite your current tearful state, you were normally able to maintain your composure even when feeling wild panic during work emergencies. But here with Madara, it was useless. He broke down all your defences.

“There’s no need for you to keep apologizing. We are okay. You’re safe here with me.” Madara settled beside you. He continued to caress your head and back, running his hand up and down in slow laps. You took the intimate position as permission to burrow. Bawling, you delved deeper into his neck to seek refuge in his touch and presence. It felt like you were flayed wide open and he was seeing into your guts.

You didn’t even know why you’re crying. It was hardly the worst shift that could have happened, as mentioned. Perhaps it was the potent mixture of adrenaline, feeling you’ve disappointed the man you like, accumulated nursing traumas, stress about school, general exhaustion, and loneliness.

You stayed in each other’s embrace for an eternity until your feverish breathing calmed, your temple resting against Madara’s chest, lulled by the even, strong thuds of his heart. Reluctantly parting from him, you gazed up at his profile with puffy eyes and running nose. He traced your face.

“Are you still hungry?” He asked. You shook your head to answer in negative.

“Stay over tonight.” Feeling too raw to argue with him, you agreed and in an instant, Madara had you swept into his arms as he made his way to the glass stairs leading up. Madara carefully deposited you in the king bed lined with silken sheets like you were his treasured cargo. He indicated to you the washroom if you’d like to use it again and left you to disappear downstairs.

“Get some rest, Y/N.”

You didn’t see him again that night.

---------------

It was several weeks before you saw Madara again. You and him were respectively preoccupied with school and business in the previous weeks before the end of this year. School work came in waves. After submitting your final essay of the semester, you felt like a free woman. No assignments for a few weeks, no shifts to work this week, you were a new person. Madara had likewise been busy with year-end obligations, according to what you gleaned from his calls and messages.

The air was getting chilly. It was such a festive time of year and besides seeing your family, which you did yesterday, you wanted to spend time with Madara. It really felt you haven’t made as much time for each other as you should have. You parents had been elated to see you again, but incessantly prodding when it came to your love life. They became even more determined when you tried to change the topic.

You sighed. Good thing you moved out. They were so supportive and such lovely people, but there was no such thing as enough privacy when living with your parents as an adult.

Clutching your phone, you eagerly called Madara. You finally felt you could see him again after your incident. You wanted to see him despite that. He never mentioned your breakdown during the past weeks. He was the one who said the two of you were okay, that nothing between you was harmed from your display of emotion. You wanted to believe him. You haven’t known Madara for long, but it seemed to you he had always been straight-forward, even if he softened his words and tone for you.

“Alright. We can head to Yorkdale tomorrow. I have favours to purchase as well.” Madara agreed readily to your next date.

Bursting with excitement, you confirmed the date for tomorrow. Then you timidly asked if he’d like to come over to yours for dinner as well. To celebrate the holidays, but also his upcoming birthday.

---------------

Holiday tunes jingled in the air and the winter chill made your nose run. You bundled yourself deeper in a scarf as you and Madara made your way across the parking lot into the mall.

The atmosphere inside was electric. People swarmed everywhere, the first time they were permitted to shop and celebrate without restriction in two years. Holiday lights and décor flashed. The exhilaration rubbed off on you too. You were just happy to be out and about, not needing to worry about your usual woes right now. Not when there was so much going well in your life at the moment.

You grinned at Madara and grabbed his arm before you knew what you were doing.

“What did you need to get? Is it for a work acquaintance? Maybe I can help?” You battered the man with questions.

Madara smiled lightly at you, his expression going tender. He knew you didn’t realize you were almost dragging him along by the arm. “It’s actually for Izuna. I was thinking of a wool trench coat for him. He doesn’t like the cold either, surprisingly.”

You agreed to help with the search for Izuna’s gift, glad he was fully recovered. You’d learned through your prior conversations with Madara that Izuna was as obnoxious as ever, perhaps even worse than he was before the car accident when he was struck. Apparently Izuna took his recovery as a sign he must have been doing something right. Laughing at Madara’s recollections of Izuna’s troublesome adventures, you arrived at the store Madara had in mind.

You made Madara try on several coats for you even if he already had Izuna’s measurements. You hummed and hah’ed and had him turn to different angles for you. You were having so much fun. Eventually, you and Madara decided on a traditional tan coat that reached the knees. Classic, but posh.

As you strolled the mall, your hands brushed the back of Madara’s multiple times. His fingers slid against yours to grasp your thumb and forefinger, then came around to delicately wrap around your hand when you didn’t shrink from him.

You bought leather gloves for your dad, the gift for your mom already taken care of. He preferred a thinner material so he can grip the steering wheel better when driving, you remembered. You made Madara ‘model’ for those gloves too, roughly estimating the size your dad will require based on Madara’s hands.

Madara’s hand sought yours again as you walked. Feeling good about yourself, you laced your fingers through his. There were toddlers screeching in the background as they were forced to take photos with Santa by their parents, but it didn’t distract either of you. You could feel Madara’s fingers slightly twitching as he discreetly memorized your hand with his touch.

Something shiny caught his eye and he turned, bringing you with him. Sitting there in the display was a gorgeous necklace, several fat rubies in the center each surrounded by a halo of smaller jewels. They were set into a dainty loop of gold. “Do you like that Y/N?” He asked you.

Realization dawned on you, but by then, Madara was already leading the way in.

Omg you were so stupid! A sales representative bounded over immediately to assist, and Madara requested for that necklace for you to try.

You didn’t think of Madara as a “sugar daddy,” but what was he to assume when you agreed to a shopping trip with him?! You were mind-boggled. You couldn’t accept such a gift from him.

“Madara stop. I can’t. I don’t even wear jewelry. All I do is go to school or work. Or stay home. When would I even wear something like this? It doesn’t suit me.” You tried to reason with him.

He frowned. It was stunning on you. The neckpiece wasn’t your Christmas gift. He felt like buying it when you two happened upon it because he thought it’d suit you. What was the point of possessing such deep coffers if he rarely spent any of it for himself? He wanted to gift you pretty things. He also wanted to provide for you.

“Y/N, you don’t need to wear it frequently, but please have it. It’s beautiful on you.”

“You don’t understand Madara, I can’t accept such a valuable gift from you!”

“Do you not like it?”

“It is gorgeous of course, but—“

“Then there shouldn’t be an issue. Y/N, I want to, for you. It would be my honour if you accepted it.”

What do you say to that? You didn’t know. Madara nodded to the salesperson to complete the transaction and took you away.

---------------

You were subdued once again in the car, feeling unsure. What were you, a perfectly normal woman, doing with someone like Madara? Someone who can toss around cash values with more zeros attached than you’ll ever see like it was nothing? You were leagues apart. Worlds apart actually.

Madara sighed as he drove to yours. He took your hand and squeezed. He tried to express what he felt earlier. As he got to know you over the past months, all he felt was a deep goodness in you. He had come to care for you deeply. Even seeing you at your weakest only drove his compulsion to look after you and made him yearn to see you again. He understood the feeling of being so raw it brought you to your knees, like everything was falling apart. He didn’t think any less of you for it.

What would you think if you knew he bought clothes for you too, now stashed at his penthouse? Several articles of clothing he estimated were of your size so if you stayed overnight again, you’d have something more suitable to wear.

“When I’m with you, I’m just ‘Madara,’” he began. “We are equals.”

You looked to him in shock. “What?”

“I’ve seen inside you to who you truly are already.”

“Umm…I’m not sure what to say to that. That night when I cried isn’t how I normally am.”

Madara was frustrated with himself, feeling like he was talking in circles. He tried again. “What I’m saying is, I would like to be with you, if you will have me.”

You were reasonably sure your eyes couldn’t open any wider. “……I like you too…” You glanced away from him, now that you were pulling towards the visitors’ parking at your place. “But you can’t keep lavishing me with expensive gifts like you did today. I won’t have them!”

Madara was so relieved, he conceded. Somewhat. He smiled. “Then I will refrain from spoiling you excessively.”

You liked him. And wanted to be with him too. That was a good enough start for him.

---------------

You hadn’t known what to get Madara for a birthday and Christmas present or where to take him out to. He can buy everything himself already. So you decided to invite him for dinner at home. If it was extra special and you put much more effort into the meal, you figured he wouldn’t mind if you combined the two occasions.

Your small home was decorated with lights and a small tree, which was also layered with strings of lights and ornaments. Red and white pieces accented the space in various ways.

The first thing Madara noticed upon stepping inside was the fragrance. It was a complex mixture of florals, chocolate, and vanilla, but not overpowering. Then he noticed the plants. Dozens upon dozens of pots of exotic blooms filled the window and console tables. Some resembled elegant spiders locked in a row. There was one that only had a single reddish-orange flower, which looked like a butterfly. A monstrous plant exploding with small colourful blooms, like dancing ladies. That was part of where the smell came from.

“Hehe. I like orchids a lot, as you can see. When you have enough of them, there’ll always be something in bloom.” You were tremendously proud of your collection. You spent so much time and effort caring for your babies. You brought Madara for a quick tour around your small condo, exuberantly telling him snippets about several specific plants, showing him your bedroom and the second bedroom that also doubled as a den, informing him of your plans to personalize your home more in the future.

He silently took note of your interest in these plants and he studied several more closely. He acknowledged your hobby lent the space a serene, natural feeling. He was at ease here.

“They are beautiful, Y/N. How many do you have?”

“I have around 30-something adult plants right now! Plus the ones under grow lights in the bedroom!” You brought him back to the living room, the walls dotted with several framed paintings of still life you did years ago. Those were excellent too.

“Have a seat! Would you like something to drink? I have options other than wine too.” Still you referenced your blunder on your first date.

Madara smiled fondly and accepted a cocktail you whipped up for him. You owned a collection of proper barware. Seating him on the couch, you returned to the kitchen to finish cooking the dishes you prepared for earlier.

You bustled around the kitchen confidently, chopping extra ingredients, searing some meat, adding extra spices to a pot, artfully plating the dishes, the faucet turning on and off between steps. Madara discreetly watched you as he sipped his drink. You were joyously humming a holiday tune before randomly switching to sing a top-40s pop song. He marveled at the normalcy of being with you. It was extraordinary to him and he loved every moment of this.

Feeling like an addict craving more of your light, Madara came up behind you as you worked and embraced you. You froze. Madara was so warm. Like a furnace was searing you from the outside. Or did you turn the heat on too high? Maybe it was the stove, but it was getting hot.

“Madara?”

He mumbled something about needing this against the back of your head before releasing you and returning to his seat, leaving you perplexed.

“Umm…I’m almost done cooking. We can eat soon.” You went to open the window for some fresh air, hoping the winter chill will help alleviate your reddened cheeks. Darn your traitorous skin tone for revealing those emotions so easily.

“Take your time. There’s no rush.” Madara was a patient man. He can wait.

---------------

“As you told me that time on the phone, about that long-haired man you liked calling a buffoon. You told him off saying he was causing too many issues with his idealistic idiocy. I had something similar happen for me recently at the hospital too, with a family member.” Dinner was ready, many dishes littering the table, and you were excited for Madara to try your food.

“Hn? I didn’t say that,” Madara denied.

“You did! Those were almost your exact words. At least you said you did.” You laid the final dish on the dining table and invited Madara to join you.

“I wouldn’t speak so crudely, not in front of a client or a business partner.” He knew exactly who you were currently referring to.

“Eh. This is why I prefer texting. You usually insist on conversing over the phone, but I would be pulling up the evidence of what you said right now if we had this discussion over our messages.” You harrumphed at him.

“Texting is no way to have a proper conversation. I still don’t understand why you favour it.” He spooned a large piece of butter and garlic roasted lamb and eggplants, seasoned with herbs and a truffle-infused balsamic vinegar, onto his plate.

You looked at Madara like he was an alien. “Because I can answer at a time that suits me best. And I’d have eternal evidence of the things you said.” And because I can think about my words before I reply so I don’t sound like a complete fool to you.

Madara didn’t look convinced.

You sighed. “I’m a Millennial, it isn’t unusual to prefer texting over speaking live on a call. Actually, you’re a Millennial too.”

“Hn. I am older inside.” He closed his eyes to savour the taste of your cooking.

What an old man, you pondered affectionately.

“A year older now. Happy birthday Madara.”

---------------

“This is for you.” Dinner was over, much of it devoured by Madara, who seemed to truly enjoy what you prepared. He took out a wrapped package and handed it to you.

It was early, but you opened it anyways. It was a beautiful complete set of Japanese handmade Damascus steel knives. Madara’s company made blades, among other things, and these were top of the line. They were stunning. The waving patterns on the blades mesmerized you, the wooden handle graceful, and the feel in your hands was balanced perfection. You’d be using these extensively in the kitchen.

You teased him, "Are you already trying to invite yourself over for more of my cooking?"

He frowned. That wasn’t the intention of his gift at all. Based on what he learned about you, including your love for cooking, he thought you’d enjoy a more practical gift like quality knives than the jewelry he bought you today.

You snickered and let him off the hook. “I’m only joking Madara! Don’t be so serious! I love these. Thank you for such a thoughtful present.” You held the boxed set close to you. “I will use them every day. And you are invited to come for a meal again.”

He was quiet when he gazed at you again, pleased you adored your gift. And glad you were comfortable enough to jest with him. “You’re welcome,” he replied simply.

You led him to the couch for a movie of his choice after refilling your beverages. Madara honestly didn’t care what you watched tonight, but he selected something to humour you. When you extinguished the lights, he spent more time watching you watch the movie than he paid attention to the plot. It was dark, but his eyesight had always been good, and with the screen light, he was able to observe you well enough. You jolted at certain scenes, the jump scares so ridiculous anyone should have predicted something coming. Your eyebrows popped up before smoothing back to their original position.

You crept closer to him as the movie played, your posture rigid. Madara leaned into the couch, shifting his weight so he was also closer to you. He put an arm around your shoulder, but you were too distracted with scaring yourself silly to notice. A jarring scream boomed and you lurched, crumpling against Madara’s side as you continued to stare at the screen with horrified wide eyes through splayed fingers.

Madara would have laughed at your useless visual barrier if he’d been in his right mind. He bent down, tilted your face, and kissed you.

HUH?! One instant, you were freaked out over some un-killable ninja zombies with superpowers. The next, you were just as stupefied to be locking your lips flush with Madara’s. He brought a hand up to cup your face and rub his thumb to your cheek, his soft lips staying in place over yours.

The kiss went straight to his pants. He turned more and wrapped his arm around you, wanting you close, yet trying to keep the kiss chaste. Madara reminded himself to be a gentleman and not to let his hand wander from your waist. You felt something stiff poking into your thigh and you tense, pulling your leg slightly away while your lips stayed connected. He pecked you several times before taking your bottom lip between his again, running his tongue over it and suckling.

With your foreheads touching, you ran an uncertain hand down his chest, tentatively tracing a finger down the front of his pants with the lightest of touches. You pressed your thighs together. Madara chuckled.

"I will wait for you," he said.

---------------

Madara returned home. He settled into his bed while thinking back on you. You were radiant, beaming at him in hospitality, dressed as comfortably as you could be in sweatpants and t-shirt.

You’d never been so relaxed around him before. You had been buzzing around your home, expertly pulling different ingredients and tools from their assigned spots to create magnificent dishes for him while chattering and humming your favourite songs. You were so eager to be an excellent hostess; to ensure he was comfortable as well.

You were adorable. He leaned into his pillows, picturing your earnest smile as his hand travelled over his flat stomach. Further south. He palmed himself. And yet you were shy when you kissed. He could still taste you when you tensed and your eyes opened in surprise. You tasted like honey. So sweet and delectable.

He imagined you beneath him, with the buttons and ties on your clothing loose, hair sprawled over the pillows in his bed. It was glorious.

Madara tugged himself in languid strokes with only his thumb and first two fingers around the top and underside of his shaft. He resisted the urge to fist his member and pump hard, preferring to savour the image of you in his mind. He stroked your belly under the shirt, your clothes came off. He was inside your hot, wet cavern, your moans echoing through the bedroom as he made you his.

He spilled himself into his foreskin, holding it shut with his index finger and thumb to contain his release. His fluid flooded the small space, warming his sensitive head and giving him another buzz. Some of the bountiful load escaped his fingers’ confinement and seeped from the loose skin, oozing down his cock.

Madara couldn’t wait to see you again. He was determined to make this work.

~To be continued~

---------------

Notes:

Madara is an intensely private person in my mind, and quite easy-going as well with his loved ones. He prefers quiet places, like home. To him, a great time is time spent with those he cares about. He would not enjoy receiving a lavish gift in return. A gift that the person (S/O, family, or anyone he cares for) spent time creating with him in mind, like a special dinner, is much more meaningful to him, especially when it can be shared. He loves stuff like that, spending quality time and/or doing activities together.

Tags

madara uchiha madara uchiha madara madara fanfiction madara is really good to the s/o Protect Me Forever

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madarasgirl

2 years ago

PSA for New Users/Blank Blogs/Ageless Blogs

If you keep getting blocked from content creator blogs there are three major reasons and ways to fix them.

🚩🚩🚩This is a Huge RED flag!🚩🚩🚩

PSA For New Users/Blank Blogs/Ageless Blogs

1. Update your avatar. Anything besides the default picture.

2. Update your blog title and description. Add your age, age range, Minor, or 18+ to the blog title/description. "Untitled" is a red flag that you are a bot. Something as simple as "Here for the fanfic!" will do it.

3. Reblog or post something to let us know you aren't just a bot. You can reblog the potato of luck or make a post that just says "Human. Please don't block me!"

Please respect others' boundaries. If a blog says they are 18+, don't follow them if you are a minor. If a blog posts things you aren't interested in, unfollow or block them.

Most of all, be kind. Kindness costs nothing and means everything.

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madarasgirl

8 months ago

mermay alucard i accidentally put more effort than intended oh well

yes theres 3 animals in there

Tags

alucard hellsing ultimate alucard hellsing alucard fanart Holy crap I would go for a deep dive into open water to see him

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madarasgirl

2 years ago

$#vampirweekly 6\7 Alucard (hellsing)$

#vampirweekly 6\7 alucard (hellsing)

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madarasgirl

1 year ago

My constant struggle when writing PWP

Tags

lmao look! real photos of me

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madarasgirl

8 months ago

The only thing that I don't really like about Prey is how they moved Predator: 1718 out of the canon. It's a pretty short story, no more than 10 pages but as the sometimes overanalytic artist I am, I wanted to remark something.

These two pages might not be the big thing but oh boy. Besides giving some background to the beloved Greyback from the Predator 2 movie, he decided to do the effort of preparing a decent place for Adolini to rest, also recognizing him as some sort of warrior, guided by his beliefs just as him.

He had no reason to give a dead body his weapon, Adolini just offered his gun and that's all, but even as brief as their encounter was, he gained his respect. A hard task to do (well, depending who you ask) for such fierce creatures.

The Only Thing That I Don't Really Like About Prey Is How They Moved Predator: 1718 Out Of The Canon.

Tags

comics yautja predator dark horse comics Greyback one of my favourite Predators Wish they didn't retcon the Adolini pistol

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madarasgirl

1 year ago

Today's episode was incredibly good! To be honest, fanfics with more than 3 chapters always made me boring so I only read oneshots or headcanons of my favorite characters.... until months ago I found your serie on AO3, I had never read such a good fanfic, from the first chapter of your series completely hooked me, I always wait for it to be updated and every time you upload a chapter I am going to read it quickly, your work is incredible!

hellsing ultimate is my favorite anime it just has everything I'm obsessed with, Sexy fucking vampires? of course, issues of religion and specifically Catholicism? That's right, some completely deranged Nazis? fuck yeah, I love that your fanfic does not soften all those interesting themes that the anime itself has, I hope I can reach the end of this incredible series, by the way you said that you studied the themes of the Second World War for almost an hour, what do you think about it? So do you find it interesting or are you just studying it for the series? Sorry for sending this question with so much text, I got too excited!

Omg omg! Sorry for the late reply. I had to sit on this ask for a few days to figure out how to respond to such a heartfelt love letter 💖. Thank you for these kind words. You would never know how much the encouragement helps 🥰. You might have made my entire week! I umm...love being asked about my writing. It's kind of an embarrassing confession. *virtual hugs and kisses*

I am so glad you're enjoying this story! Nothing makes me happier than to know that I was partially responsible for changing someone's mind on something! As much as I enjoy headcanons and shorts too, imo nothing is quite as satisfying as sticking with a character through their trials and tribulations in a long fic and getting immersed in their journey ^^

Yes Hellsing Ultimate has many of the things I enjoy in a show too! I love when shows don't shirk from the darker aspects of the world and now that Alucard and his Reader have a good foundational relationship, I think it's time to remind the audience of what Hellsing is about. Didn't want to sugarcoat how messed up the world and its characters really are. I am glad you don't think I botched the delivery.

The last time I actually studied WWII was in high school, so well over a decade ago. That was through the lens of the Allied victors and I only remember so much of the details. I think many things about that period, but the strongest feeling is how utterly dismal war is, how much needless suffering it causes.

For the latest chapter (Ch. 20), the vast majority of time researching was spent on finding certain details on Nazi units and which ones were responsible for certain actions as I was trying to decide on the next setting for this arc, the location of one of Millennium's bases. This one isn't in Brazil. This story is only canon-related, not canon-compliant. Here was some stuff going on in my head in the background for this fic. It was probably excessive, but I wanted a place that is: - postcard beautiful - isolated, but not too much so (or the logistics of resupplying themselves would be difficult) - an island (easier for the local authorities to pass strange phenomena off as freak incidences when pressured by Millennium) -lots of wilderness, for the isolation, but also training purposes - lots of caves/hidden ways for escape -the site of a Nazi massacre, so relevance to Nazis -sort of on the way in Dracula's historic seafaring route through the Mediterranean to England

Then I spent some time trying to figure out the logistics of zeppelin and ship travel from this place to others, whether this place has any other features, mythological history and/or appearances in popular culture that are interesting. I spent time reading about the local population and regional politics of that time for my interest.

In the end, there were a few islands I was trying to choose between, none of them were perfect. The biggest issue was that it was the Wehrmacht branch of the Nazis that were responsible for the atrocities and not the Waffen SS, but I was already at my wits' end trying to spin the story in a way that'll work and would rather start writing. I think it should work out though.

I'm no expert on anything historical. I hope I don't disappoint! It's nerve-wracking now that we're onto canon events! 😱 Don't apologize, I love your excitement and interest in this fic!!!! 🤩🤩🤩😘

Tags

answered asks my writing i can die happy now hellsing ultimate alucard x reader alucard hellsing alucard x you alucard fanfiction

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madarasgirl

1 year ago

Werewolves and vampires court with passion and zealousness once they find their mate, not that you knew what your company really was.

Contrast that with the Darling's sense of stranger danger –everything was moving too fast! Only the second date in, and he was trying to whisk you away...somewhere?! The man said he was bringing you to the countryside to watch the stars like he did in the days of old, to help ease your anxiety. His strange mannerisms didn't help. His words almost sent you into a panic and you thought of asking him to stop the car or jumping out.

The roads were getting darker. All you could think of as you passed empty meadows was how this was the sort of place where young women disappeared.

You told your best friend beforehand you were going on a date. Now that the plan derailed, you were discretely sending live feed of your location. If you weren't going to make it through the night, you hoped they'd at least find your body...

Tags

cultural differences monster boyfriend monster x human vampire x reader vampire x human werewolf x human werewolf x you

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madarasgirl

1 year ago

Tags

dracula castlevania alucard hellsing Alucard all the way! my comfort vampire although Dracula from Castlevania is really hot too And a loving hubby is oooooph yummy But Castlevania's vampire daddy is canonically taken so for me I can't thirst for him as much I love a chaotic man who isn't really evil

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