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As a fic writer, i need every reader to know that:

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I love you

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.

100%. This scene only seems funny, but it's actually heart-wrenching. Madara did his best

thinking about this anime-only scene and how despite its silliness, it perfectly illustrates the dynamic between madara, hashirama and the village.

when the both of them see the child fall, madara is the one to rush over. not that hashirama doesn’t care, but he simply isn’t immediately spurred into action to help like madara is. it’s a reminder that madara is fundamentally kind and caring, he has good intentions! yet the girl in question isn’t put at ease by him at all. taking into account how she seems too young to have encountered madara in the warring states era, her reasons to distrust him aren’t tied to any personal hurt; she judges based on appearances, and madara’s doesn’t seem to evoke anything good. the situation has only escalated, the girl now scared and crying, until hashirama appears and immediately calms the girl down, due to his natural charisma (in the scene before this one, we see how the entire village happily and respectfully greets hashirama as he passes by, with someone even handing him that flower as a gift). it’s only after hashirama has shown up that the girl thanks madara too, and the issue finally resolves itself.

this pretty much represents the whole of the village. madara isn’t really trusted by anyone there, and mostly seems to be given a pass only because hashirama covers for him. despite madara’s own efforts to grow and become a kind and worthy leader to the village, he remains very dependent on hashirama’s charisma and reputation to even be given the time of day. so then of course, once hashirama’s efforts to defend madara begin to wane as he starts to side with the village too, it’s only natural that everything comes crashing down.

Twin Flames- Chapter Four

“You still don’t seem to understand. The intention was never to purchase your company or body. It was always to court you, to persuade you towards becoming mine.”

“Sugar daddy” Madara x Nurse!Reader

For my biggest fan @margretesonigiri. I hope you like this chapter! Happy Birthday Izuna, Obito! 🥳🤗 On AO3

Warnings: Romance, flirting, angst, drama, hurt/comfort Words: 4515

Examining yourself in the mirror from every angle, even you had to admit you looked impeccable.

You decided to go pro with your hair and makeup tonight. You wanted to look good for this party. You wanted to look amazing for Madara. A subtle glimmer veiled the eyeshadow, accentuating the shape of your eyes framed by long lashes. Slight contouring brought out the definition on your features, a peachy blush you suspected you won’t need once you saw Madara kissing the apples of your cheeks. Most of your hair was pinned back in an elaborate display of curls and ribbon, with wisps of loosely curled strands coming down the sides of your head ending past the shoulders. It wasn’t like you didn’t recognize yourself, but it was rather unusual for you to spend such time and effort on your appearances. The end result was worth it for this event.

Madara arrived to pick you up tonight at your door, a black SUV with his chauffeur attending downstairs.

Madara regarded you in appreciation. You looked better than good. You were hot, touched by a hint of innocence. The curled strands falling down to frame the sides of your face made you look as if you’d just gotten out of bed, but it was sexy and tasteful. It wasn’t too coiffed and artificial. He couldn’t get enough of the sight of you.

“It seems I haven’t invited you to enough of these events. You look stunning Y/N,” Madara rasped, continuing to appraise everything about you and continuing to discover more to behold. Your gorgeous face, the hair, your dress, the nails. You wore the ruby and gold necklace he gifted you. He meticulously eyed the designs on your legs. Like the first date, he picked up your hand to kiss the back. This time, you didn’t go brain dead. You stepped close, brushing your fingers down his chest and claiming his lips briefly. Madara’s presence went to your crotch. She stirred, as if waking from slumber for the first time in too long. It may have been freezing outside, but neither of you were going to feel it.

“As do you.” He donned a tuxedo for tonight. It had to be tailored for him, the cut hugging his hips and chest, the image of perfection. He was the picture of a sophisticated gentleman, one who exuded a mysterious charm and held an edge of danger. Such resemblance to the knives and swords he created. He was extraordinarily handsome and you couldn’t believe he was your date for the night.

You smiled shyly, allowing him the pleasure of leading you to his vehicle while he gallantly offered his arm.

The privacy display was activated, shielding the driver from whatever the occupants behind did. Madara popped open a bottle of champagne and offered a bubbly chute. “For you.”

You accepted the glass, thanking him for inviting you tonight. “It’s my honour to have you with me,” he replied smoothly. The seats were soft, a burgundy leather. Patterned wood trim framed multiple surfaces in the passengers’ area. Jazz filled this space, the brass instruments setting up a classy ambient atmosphere for the ride.

Gasping, your eyes were trained frantically in the direction of the driver as Madara slid up to you, not touching, but close enough to feel his breath and body heat. He closed the distance between you, a hand sneaking under your knee-length coat and coming to rest on your thigh.

“He can’t hear or see us.” When you didn’t resist, fingers skimmed the surface of your sheer floral-patterned pantyhose, coming inches up your legs until he halted at a location that was still safe enough to be considered somewhat decent. His face was close, discerning gaze carefully watching your expression, as if he was waiting for permission.

Frozen, your mind flew through what was happening. This was Madara who was touching you. You opened your legs a fraction, but that was all he needed. His hand traveled more as he tilted his head before he once again took your lips. Madara was patient and gentle, his touch remaining light. He didn’t grab your crotch like he yearned to. Instead, he stayed tantalizingly at the junction between groin and inner thigh to pet the spot, while his other arm went around your back to pull you slightly towards him.

You didn’t stop him from doing more. From the onset, you were never against a physical relationship with Madara, although your preference was to become more familiar before engaging in such acts. You didn’t realize you were clutching his quads.

“I told you I will wait for you,” he whispered against your temple, pulling his limbs back to himself.

You licked your lips, cursing when you realized you ate some of the lip gloss.

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

Stepping foot inside the venue, you looked around in wonder as you entered with Madara. The opulence was astounding. The foyer was incredibly grand, covered in gold-veined marble floors, intricately carved stone statues artistically lining the walls, the ceilings were so high you could barely make out the details at the top. It was like you went back in time to a historical ball. The men were dapper, the women garbed in sumptuous ball gowns and jewels.

You could swear it got quieter as you and Madara arrived. What an attractive pair you made. People were staring. Though Madara was clearly the one who brought you, the one who was personally invited to a gathering of this class, you were the one who attracted these strangers’ attention. Numerous men, some elegant, some appearing haughtier than others, evaluated your appearance and presence, seemingly pleased by what met the eyes. Several greeted Madara and you in polite acquaintance.

It was the women who made you self-conscious. Some studied you in a peculiar way, their shrewd judgment making you squirm in discomfort. You couldn’t discern what they said to each other or their partners, but that didn’t matter.

"Keep your chin up. These people are no better than you." Madara commented flatly, leading you through the palatial grounds. You and Madara exchanged more cordial greetings with multiple other guests before you were led to your seats. A busser nodded at you and Madara in respect, “My lady, what would you like to drink?” You requested scotch. You knew you needed social lubricant again to survive this night. You plucked some hor d’oeuvres from servers circulating around the hall with trays of appetizers.

Madara chuckled, “Already starting with the strong liquor? There’s a long night ahead.”

“Madara! Let me be! I’ve never been to this formal an event before! This is white tie!” You were so worried you’d make a fool of yourself, which would reflect poorly on Madara. Good thing you consulted the professionals with your makeup and hair for tonight.

“Y/N, remember you are with me. Do not accept disrespect from anyone.”

Appreciating his sentiment, you nodded at him, but didn’t feel settled. You nibbled on your hor d’oeuvres and sipped the single malt scotch, reveling in every bite. Wow, the refreshments were tasty.

Madara continued to make light-hearted chatter with you, as if this were merely another casual date, in an attempt to soothe your nerves. He was somewhat successful.

He stood gracefully and held his hand out to you. “Y/N, dance with me.” Oh my, you took a few lessons in ballroom when you were a teenager, but that knowledge was long gone. Neither did you expect your first rodeo in years to be at such a high caliber. Not wanting to disappoint, you accepted Madara’s offer, but warned you weren’t very skilled.

He was so warm, his gaze affectionate as he walked with you to the dance floor where other couples already took their spots. Goodness, there were more spectators now. “Follow me. I will lead you.”

You were stepping to the rhythm slow-quick-quick, slow-quick-quick…this was a rumba. Under normal circumstances, you’d be bopping along to the sensual lyrics, but right now you could only focus on the drums which were keeping the beat, praying you didn’t misstep. You couldn’t help looking down at your feet to ensure their placement.

Madara was an excellent dancer. It was hard for others to differentiate from a distance, but so close, you saw the edges of his lips were pointed up in a tiny smile directed solely at you. Each step brushed the floor before he set his foot down, pushing your dress aside. He knew exactly where you were and never stepped on your feet or dress. He never looked down, the entirety of his attention focused on you. He signaled to pull you in, push you out. He twirled you. You and him were rhythm. Moving in tune to the beat with Madara’s body was intoxicating, but after one final spin, it all ended too soon. The song was over. There was clapping, even if it was drowned out by the ethereal feeling of you and Madara being the lone occupants on the floor.

The lights struck his figure in such a way. It accentuated the blue undertones of his hair, highlighted the refined arches of his cheekbones. It casted shadow upon his musculature, emphasizing his solid build through the layers of tuxedo. He was excruciatingly beautiful.

In the few moments when you were still in his arms, staring at each other after your first dance, he cupped your face and kissed you deeply in front of everyone. Your eyes were saucers. Madara never claimed you like that in public. Many guests paused to observe the spectacle.

He brought you back to your table and seated you. Bringing his hand to gently stroke the side of your head without tousling your locks, he murmured into your ear, telling you he had to attend to a quick business matter, but he will return to you soon.

He was leaving you alone! You fretted internally, anxiety once again hitting you like bricks, even if you agreed to Madara’s arrangement.

Quietly cutting a piece of the entrée that was served moments ago and gingerly placing it in your mouth, you glanced around the table. Every seat was now filled with men and women as dressed up as the ones you saw when you first entered the building. You nodded in greeting. Two different couples returned the pleasantry and you introduced yourself.

“Y/N? Such a beautiful name. How do you know Mr. Uchiha?” The lady of a kindly-looking couple asked you.

Mr. Uchiha? Sounded silly to you. You avoided the question, not about to disclose the website that brought you back into each other’s lives. “We met at the hospital when Izuna was sick.”

“Do you work at the hospital? Which one? Are you a doctor?” A different woman spoke up, this one immediately setting off a feeling of dislike in you. Her calculating gaze rolled over you in evaluation. It was mocking, the disdain close to the surface. “Please excuse me for my prodding inquiries, we’ve never seen Madara invite anyone other than Izuna to an event before!”

She called him ‘Madara,’ much more informal than the first woman. She must be closer to him or higher in hierarchy than the other guest. “I’m a nurse.”

Yet another pair chimed in. “Nursing is tough these days. It must be extremely difficult for you and your colleagues. Thank you what you do.” There were mutters of agreement from other guests.

You accepted their sentiment with grace.

“A nurse? Such a noble and devoted profession. So giving of yourselves, you even opted to follow your patrons all this way well after your services were no longer deemed necessary. Madara inspires such obsession, doesn’t he?” That beautiful woman you were already wary of offered you a sweet smile.

Pardon me?

You knew this woman was trying to humiliate you for your serving profession, but you weren’t biting. You were proud of and competent at what you did. And in your opinion, your job was vital to society and more important than a respectable number of people’s, including some of the ones seated at this table, even if they may be more finely dressed on a regular day.

She was also calling you a whore. Words were her weapon, carefully chosen to slice with precision like a scalpel. You tried to take the high road.

“Yes, I’ve made a difference in many people’s lives. Seems I can appreciate life more than most people can.” And you believed you did. You’ve seen the best and worst in people, seen as families clung to hope where there was none, and even then the families sometimes forced their will upon your colleagues. They may have screamed and thrown things and legally threatened. You’ve been forced to attempt every possible measure to ‘save’ those patients, because the family still believed their loved ones will pull through and walk out alive, no different from before they were first hospitalized. It was akin to torture, prolonging the suffering of these people for what could be months or more, as they wasted away, growing necrotic, their flesh sloughing off, dying multiple times as you were required to attempt resuscitation, breaking their ribs and continuing the horrible cyclical process over again. All that remained were the empty husks of bodies that still produced vital signs, until eventually even those shut down and the bodies could finally rest.

What you were forced to do was sometimes beyond inhumane.

You could appreciate the preciousness of life in a way many people will never understand. At the end of road, there was no difference whether you were a pauper or filthy rich. You couldn’t take any of that with you when you die. What did this woman know about life, or suffering? How could someone so ignorant even deign to comment on your service? Fury started to build in your mind.

Was life only the vapid pursuit of a hedonistic existence to a portion of these other guests here, whose festivities you’ve intruded upon? Where was Madara? You didn’t like it here. The mood grew tense at this table. You could probably hear a pin drop despite the background clamour of the party.

Deciding you had enough, you rose. “Excuse me,” you stated, before walking off to search for the restroom. You heard tittering as you left and internally scoffed at whoever made that sound, probably a Karen. Very mature. You came here to be with Madara, not to compete in petty rich people duels. You would much rather stumble around in a rumba with Madara than participate in this other type of social dance.

“Karen.” Another guest spoke in warning, but you’d already left.

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

Coming out of the single stall, you flattened your dress against yourself. There she was again, the wolf in sheepskin. She was finishing her touchups. Seriously, she followed you here? You groaned to yourself, not wanting to deal with her right now. Or at all.

She pretended your presence piqued her surprise. Snapping the mini compact shut, she stared you directly in the eyes.

“It was a fabulous performance you gave earlier! First time dancing?” She asked with a pleasant tone, yet her expression betrayed her snideness.

“Indeed. First time in a long while.” You replied tightly.

“I’m astonished! I never thought a newborn elephant could dance, it was absolutely enchanting. I’m sure many patrons haven’t been so entertained in some time.” She washed her hands, flicking excess water off, some hitting you, before drying her hands properly on a plush square towel. “Your dress! Excuse me!”

Anger coursed through your veins. She was getting bolder with your meek retorts, not even trying to veil her insults anymore. If you had a single useful thought in your hollow, elitist brain, every day you would learn many new things. How does Madara bear these people?

She insincerely apologized for splashing your gown. “Y/N, I am doing you a favour by approaching you about this. Someone like Madara will grow bored of you once he tires of lowborn novelty. He doesn’t love you. You will only be hurt by attempting to reach too far up.”

Attempting to reach too far up. Gritting your teeth, you replied, "Your bearing should make you much nobler than me, but it’s unfortunate money can't buy class." You gave her a wholly unimpressed stare. You weren’t interested in her pontification. “My relationship with Madara doesn’t concern you.” It was complicated and only between you and him, even if you’ve also been ruminating on the nature of your relationship lately. Finished your business in the restroom, you exited the premises to find your way back to your seat.

She sneered at you, condescension rolling off every fiber of her being. As if speaking with you was beneath her dignity, she snapped. "A commoner should learn etiquette before sullying spaces above her station."

You tried to think quickly, understanding Madara is higher in the social food chain than anyone here. You will likely be forgiven for saying something impolite, yet you wanted to return a witty remark, one that won’t be too crass or embarrass Madara. Your rage won out instead. How dare she. You were tired of trying to wrack your head for false niceties in comebacks.

With your heart pounding, your voice was filled with vitriol. “Are you a bitch just today or every day?”

She smirked derisively, as if she won the battle by making you break face and curse first. Her patronizing smirk transformed into a look of utter aghast in an instant.

Madara regarded her coldly and she slunk down in deference, but not surrendering entirely. “If a commoner must learn etiquette before showing their face, tell me, are you a commoner?”

She parted her mouth to speak.

“Do you think me tasteless, woman?”

“I would never dare, Madara!”

“You may not address me by my name. You assume to be more familiar than you are. I asked if you are a commoner.”

Madara acknowledged you by glancing down, before his icy furious gaze found its original target again. She hadn’t strung together another eloquent sentence since Madara’s arrival, her previous conceit gone.

“Hn. I suppose a lowborn wretch wouldn’t have the capacity to recognize your betters unless it was spelled out for you. By ‘your betters’ I mean Y/N, who has demonstrated grace and etiquette despite your continued baseless denigration. There is only one commoner here and it isn’t who you thought.”

Guests at the surrounding tables went silent at the exchange, nosy yet uncomfortable with such obvious conflict at a major gathering. The woman gawked, not yet having recovered her meager wits.

Madara maintained his glower at her. “She is with me. That was all you needed to know.” He took your hand and led you away. Madara had no issue with finishing his dinner in an awkward silence at their table. Let them say what they will about him. But you didn’t deserve this kind of poor treatment.

“Do you want to stay here or leave?” He asked you.

Grimacing, you confessed. "I don't like this place. It’s too stiff and the people are like cats."

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

Madara summoned his driver and you left together.

The adrenaline rush over, you suddenly felt very small around Madara, the subject of your affections who you were brutally informed was someone that shouldn’t be yours. “I’m sorry if my conversation with that woman was inappropriate at any point and if it reflects badly on you. I said some foul things too.”

You’ve never seen Madara verbally vicious, although you were certain he had it in him. You were aware he was harsher with strangers than you and Izuna. Seeing his wrath was still an experience.

“Don’t apologize for rightfully defending yourself. I shouldn’t have left you by yourself for as long as I did.” You shook your head to inform him he was not at fault. Madara was beyond rage that anyone dared insult or belittle you. That someone found an opportunity to lash you with such venomous words when he wasn’t present to defend you. “I’m sorry you went through that. Are you okay?”

Not looking at him, you asked, “Who was that?” You curled against your protector.

Madara snorted. “No one of importance. She was someone who wanted to arrange an engagement with either me or Izuna long ago, but we never gave her the time of day. Seems she forgot about everything except her unwarranted bloated opinion of herself.”

The woman was way out of line. No one else at the party treated you with such contempt, even if they viewed themselves superior. You understood this, but you weren’t used to conflict. Heart still pounding hard in your chest, you were severely shaken by the confrontation now that it was over, especially when some of that woman’s appalling sentiments were in truth thoughts you also considered.

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

You could tell Madara was still livid when you entered his penthouse together and he tossed his keys on the counter. He was already pulling off his tuxedo and loosening the bowtie as he tousled his hair and exhaled forcefully. You stayed close to the grand entrance momentarily before following him inside. You were quiet, slow, and methodical when you removed your winter coat and placed it on a leather chair.

Madara was suddenly in front of you, tucking you into his arms, his lips seeking yours in a kiss harder than he had ever given you. Gasping, you pulled from him and looked away, feeling heavily conflicted.

“Y/N?”

You took several steps back, praying the distance will help clear your mind. It was futile.

Trembling, your voice broke. "She wasn’t completely wrong…I don't belong with you. We're from completely different worlds. You should be with someone better than me. Someone beautiful, elegant, from a higher family more suited to your station."

Madara's face was blank. "Yet I am with you, no?"

You couldn’t find solace in his words. "I’m just a normal person, Madara. And I don't want you to buy me things, I was never cut out to be a sugar baby, it seems. Yet I stick out like a sore thumb even more among your wealthy crowd without those luxury items. I can’t do this anymore."

Tears trailed down your face and you sniffed helplessly, swiping your hands across your eyes repeatedly to remove the salty fluid, loathing your weakness in front of him yet again.

Madara straightened, stiff as a board. His voice was cooler. He didn’t pursue when you stepped away from him. "It was my assumption that was the way those sorts of relationships worked."

He agrees we are on different levels. Your eyes watered more at the confirmation on the nature of your relationship. His money and prestige for your time and sex. You didn’t even put out for him.

Yet…you wanted to be with him, even if it would only be a coupling of bodies and you wouldn’t claim all of him. It hurt immensely, but you couldn't get enough of this man, like you were a moth drawn to flame. From the beginning, it felt like there was something deep, like you were meant to be with Madara. But the more you reflected on your relationship, the more it was apparent it didn’t matter whether Madara was actually fond of you or if he regarded you as paid-for company. The extreme difference in social status wasn’t so easily overcome. Steeling your resolve, you looked him in the eyes, hands quivering as they went to your back to undo the zipper, opening your dress to start slipping it off.

Madara watched you in bewildered rapture at first, his gaze tracing every movement revealing increasing tracts of bare skin. Your delicate lace bra came into view once your top was exposed. He wanted you so much it was painful. But…he also wanted you to want this. He wished for you to enjoy being with him so much you'd keep choosing to return to him whenever you desired intimacy. He hated this nervous look of coercion painted on your features. Hated your tears. This was wrong.

He stopped you part way, grasping your hands in his, then sliding your loose clothing back over your shoulders. "No, not like this. Never like this." His grip was hard.

Something in Madara cracked, his piercing gaze pinning you. “This misplaced sense of inferiority in you is unbecoming. Did you think I let merely anyone into my home? Into my life?” He stalked towards you as you slinked away, until he had you cornered against the walls. “Or that I would turn over one of my properties to someone insignificant to me?”

He had to stop. This was no way to speak to someone he held dear.

Madara closed his eyes, jaws clenched, his frustration flaring. Irritation he didn’t realize he could feel towards you coiled in his chest. He allowed several moments to pass, to collect himself before he could verbalize truly malignant words. After all this time, how could you not know? What was this unsightly self-pity? His mouth pulled into a tight line, gathering his thoughts as he calmed himself. He wouldn’t be cruel, not to you.

"You still don't seem to understand. The intention was never to purchase your company or body. It was always to court you, to persuade you towards becoming mine."

“Meddling fools may be incapable of seeing your radiance and don’t deserve your company. That isn’t our concern. I’d rather you don’t fit in with trifling superficial crowds. What we have was never ‘those sorts of relationships’ you’re assuming.” He glared at you. 

You were still gaping with an astonished expression, trapped between a wall and his sturdy body. You were shaking, close to hyperventilating. Madara took in your anguished state. This was agony for him too. He sat you on the floor, pulling you between his legs and into his body. Your heaving breaths eventually slowed and tears dried as you leaned against him, feeling uncertain in his embrace, but not yet wanting to leave. He wants me for me, the obvious conclusion settling in. You huddled up with your head nestled into his neck and he breathed you in.

It was late when you spoke again. “Madara? I’d like to go home tonight.”

“This is one of your homes. This place is yours now in every way except in title.” Madara felt uneasy now that the storm that was his temper passed, hoping he didn’t say too much. He held you more tightly.

“No, I’d like to go back to my home tonight. I can’t be here right now. Please. I need to be alone.” You pleaded, hoping he’d understand. “I’ll pack my things and call for a ride.”

He snorted, the notion you wanted to pack your belongings to abandon your home absurd to him. “Don’t be ridiculous. I will take you home if you insist. It’s the middle of the night in freezing weather.” He was not letting you go that easily. You were his.

~To be continued~

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

Notes:

A gentle reminder that while Madara is softer with Izuna and her, he isn’t soft. Drama finds the drama king, who still wields a way with words like a kunai.

That's how I imagine you after you type “to be continued” and click “Post” on your Madara fanfics

Bahahaha! Never would I have thought I'd be compared to LELOUCH!!! How flattering! Maybe there's a bit of a resemblance there Margrete 😘. *laughs in Lelouch*