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demon-shark · 5 months

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Red Cloud Curse; Chapter 1

Warnings: Cussing, highway meat robbery, alcohol, mystery shipping

Man makes the mistake of leaving his meat truck in the hands of Kisame, Deidara, and Hidan.

Kisame was walking back to the apartment with Hidan and Deidara when they came across a truck. The guy they assumed had been driving it was standing next to it and typing it away angrily on his phone. It must have been dead because the driver ended up angrily shoving it in his pocket. He then looked up at the three of them and pointed while he yelled, “Hey! Yeah, I’m talking to you!” Kisame stepped up to the guy as he approached asking, “You gotta phone?” Kisame dodged the question by asking his own, “What? Did your truck break down?” The man looked between Kisame and the truck before snapping, “No genius, I just like standing around in a shitty neighborhood. Look I’m already two hours late on this delivery, I try to take one short cut and this is what I get. My goddamn kid drained my phone playing some stupid game, my goddamn wife took my charger. Listen, I will give you ¥5 if you let me use your phone. Just one call.”

“Oh, we don’t have a phone. Our Dad said not until we’re 18.” Deidara lied without hesitation. Deidara then turned around and waved down the street, “There is a bar down 10 blocks that way… I can’t remember the name. They should help you out though.” The man’s eyes widened. “10 blocks?! Fricken.” The man then reached into his pocket and started counting out some cash. “This is yours if you watch the truck.” For a desperate man, he sure is cheap. “¥5, cool. Thanks, mister.” The man then started down the street, “And make sure no one gets near it!” As soon as he was out of earshot Kisame pulled out his phone and made a call, “Hey Kakuzu, I’m sending my location to you now, bring a crowbar.”

It took 5 minutes for the rest of the Akatsuki and some of their neighbors to show up. As soon as Kisame was tossed the crowbar he broke the truck open revealing an entire butcher shop's worth of meat. Kisame and Kakuzu jumped in and started helping others into the truck so everyone could take what they wanted. As they started emptying the truck, more of their neighbors caught on to what was happening and joined in. One rather feisty old lady slapped Hidan away from a box of something, “Get back, I’m married to two husbands.” Hidan raised his hands as he said, “Take it easy, Grandma”. As the Akatsuki dragged their portion of the haul into the apartment, Konan stood in front of the freezer, “How are we going to store all of this?” It was then that Kisame came in with a whole cow leg on his shoulder, “Careful, coming through.” Konan looked over everything before turning to Zetsu, “Does Imada still have that chainsaw?” Zetsu didn’t look up from the meat he was weighing as he said, “yeah and he owes Hidan cause he covered for him while he was having an affair.” As Kakuzu went to grab the chainsaw to cut the larger meats, the others took knives to what they could and wrapped them up in newspapers. They soon heard the sound of the chainsaw being used from the sidewalk, “Can someone get the leg to Kakuzu?” Konan asked and she chopped up some beef. Hidan jumped up from his station and plopped the cow leg onto his shoulder, “You got it,”.

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Loud bangs shook the walls of their apartment as a grumpy Madara made his way to the door. He nearly ripped the door off its hinges startling the officers, only made worse by the scowl that Hidan is convinced is permanently stuck on his face. “I-I uh…” The first officer struggled to find his words causing his partner to step up, “We’re investigating the recent robbery of a meat truck that took place last Friday. We were wondering if anyone here might have seen something.” Madara crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway as he looked down at the officers. “No.” The first officer took an awkward step back as if trying to escape only to be stopped by the second officer. “We actually have a few suspects we would like you to look over.” She then pulled out three pictures that roughly looked like Kisame, Deidara, and Hidan but Hidan and Deidara were the wrong gender and Kisame’s shark features were exaggerated to almost cartoonish proportions. It was then Kisame walked out from the room he shared with Itachi, Sasori, and Deidara.

Madara turned around at the blue man he found to be a companion and called him over, “Kisame! There are some cops here with some pictures they want you to look at.” Kisame looked only slightly confused before he walked over, the second officer held the pictures out to him and without hesitation, he said, “I have never seen these people in my life,”. Madara heard someone choke down a laugh in the back and if he knew what was good for him he would be gone by the time Madara turned around. “Very well, thank you for your cooperation,” the second officer said before leaving, the first officer practically sprinting away from the door. Madara slowly closed the door behind him, before turning around to a grinning Hidan who looked a little too proud of himself. “Have you never heard of discretion?” Hidan immediately waved him off, “It’s not like the dumbasses recognized me.” Kisame raised an eyebrow at the silver-haired ass, “Where are you going?” Hidan looked around the kitchen as he said, “Maruko du Pain.” Kakuzu then stepped out and headed to the kitchen to start making coffee. “Don’t distract Itachi.” Hidan looked back at him offended as he said, “I wasn’t going to,”. Hidan then grabbed a piece of toast and headed out the door. “Was that picture supposed to be me?” Kisame asked, turning to Madara who grumbled as he rubbed his face and headed back to bed.

Hidan enjoyed Madara’s breakfast as he made his way into a nicer part of the city. As he did, he noticed a familiar redhead entering his very destination. He grinned to himself as he ran in after Sasori, the door not even having the chance to close. The look on Itachi’s face said it all ‘Please don’t do this’. Upon seeing Itachi’s face, Sasori turned around and immediately regretted it. Sasori turned around and took his usual place in a corner of the cafe that was hidden from the cameras. Hidan strutted up to the counter where Itachi stood with a look of utter defeat, unable to run because of his job. Only Hidan was interrupted by the sound of a woman clearing her throat. She had to have come in after Hidan because he hadn’t seen her when he entered but that didn’t stop her from looking up at him as if she expected him to move.

Upon seeing that Hidan wasn’t going to move she shoved him out of the way. “This creme brulee has dirt in it!” Itachi looked slightly concerned as he reached out his hand, “Can I see it?” The woman handed it over and Itachi quickly relaxed, “This is vanilla.” The woman then scoffed as she asked, “Are you calling me stupid?” Hidan then mocked her scoff as he said, “He isn’t but I’m going to.” The woman then put her hands on her hips as she turned to Hidan, “Vanilla is clear, if you’ve ever baked before you would know that.” Hidan then put his hands on his hips in an exaggerated manner, “Maybe your cheap store brand stuff is, but vanilla pods have little specks in them.” The woman then gave an offended gasp before storming out of the bakery. “What was her problem?” Itachi gave a tired sigh as he said, “That was Okubo Azumi, she lives next door to the bakery and seems to have an issue with the bakery.” Hidan removed his hands from his hips to look over at Itachi, “So she does this regularly?” Itachi gave a tired nod causing Hidan to look back at the door the lady just left, “Who beefs with a bakery?”

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As they lit the trash fire everyone gathered around with their beers and their kids to celebrate the meat hull they pulled off earlier that day. “I’m gonna be honest, when these… teens moved in six weeks ago going on about some cycle of pain or hatred or whatever, I thought they were a bunch of loons. But I’ve come to see the light. How we have come to over rely on heroes causing good people to stand by when someone needs help. Heroes who care more about fame and money than helping down-troughton people like us. Heroes help maintain a system that suppresses us. A system that shames and demeans those for things out of their control. A system that puts assholes in charge because they were determined better than the rest of us at birth. People I had brushed off as just some teens who didn’t know what they were talking about, opened my eyes to real problems with our society. And that’s just my way of saying… thank god for the Akatsuki.” Everyone then raised their beers as they yelled, “To the Akatsuki!” Miyake Hiroki, a drunkard who liked to play the victim, wasn't too far off from what Pein had been pushing since they learned about this hero society. However, what he believed the message was as an individual isn’t as important as how the community had taken it. As he watched over the trash burn and barbeque he was approached by Tobirama. “Pein.” Pein looked over at the albino, returning with his own, “Tobirama”. Tobirama then moved to stand next to his wheelchair, his arms crossed. “We need to talk.”

It was then everyone heard the dreadful sound of police sirens. The lights soon came into view and turned out it wasn’t just the police, a fire truck had shown up as well. The crowd quickly started to boo as the party was shut down. The police ushered the people away as the firefighters put out the fire. “Gotta hand it to um, they handled it faster than the heroes did.” Jouzetsu smiled as he put his hands in his pockets. “That’s because the heroes don’t come into this neighborhood,” Dokuzesu grumbled, the implication of Jouzetsu being a dumbass clear in his tone. “That does remind me though, whose turn is it for the electric bill?” Hidan gave a quiet, “Crap,” before reaching into his pocket and pulling out ¥25000 in cash, “This should cover it,”. Pein then looked over at Tobirama who had been cut off by the situation, looks like he wasn’t going to drop it. Pein gave the rest of them a look before he and Tobirama left to talk.

#deidara #sasori #akatsuki #akatsuki fanfiction #black zetsu #Red Cloud Curse #kisame hoshigaki #itachi uchiha #sasori akasuna #white zetsu #pein #senju tobirama #madara uchiha #kakuzu #hidan #my hero academia #Pein's preaching being misinterpreted by a drunk man #highway meat robbery

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thewoodengambler · 6 months

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Have you heard the two headed calf poem, Mr. Hashirama? it’s one of my favorites and I’d love to hear your opinion ^•^

If you’re unfamiliar, I’ve listed the poem below.

“Tomorrow when the farm boys find this

freak of nature, they will wrap his body

in newspaper and carry him to the museum.

But tonight he is alive and in the north

field with his mother. It is a perfect

summer evening: the moon rising over

the orchard, the wind in the grass. And

as he stares into the sky, there are

twice as many stars as usual.”

[written by: Laura Gilpin]

*he listens intently. By the end of the poem, he blinks at them with sparkly eyes.* I must admit, I have not heard of such poem, but it sounds wonderful! No doubt a hidden meaning behind it. *he nods* the way my mind has translated the poem. This is how I see it: This calf was different because of its physical features, therefore, they put it up for display to show the world the "anomaly" of it, but a day before, the calf was calm, for he had his most cherished and beloved with him, therefore he had no worries. In fact he was so happy and felt so loved, that everything around him has turned into a sort of fairy tail!

*he grins* truly an outstanding work. I must praise the author. The double meaning behind this awes me. On one side, people are so fascinated by the being, that they decide to put it up for display, to tell the world of its existence, but I lean to the darker meaning behind this poem, which is: the Calf was so different, it made a good display for others to mock and look at it with disgust or hate, but it was an example also for those different people, that were afraid to show themselves in fear, that society wouldn't take them as they were, mocking or straight out resenting them, only judging them purely based off of looks. *His eyes soften and look down* much like myself, Tobirama and Madara, who were looked down upon our clans for being different and having otherwise unacceptable opinions about the warring states era. But peace came, nonetheless, even though Madara wasn't apart of it until the end, we made it happen. I believe this beautiful poem teaches us, that no matter how different you are, you shan't be afraid of who you are as a person, or how people perceive you. As long as you do good deed in the world and harm no one without having a proper reason to, there's always going to be someone who adores and loves you for who you are, especially a mother, who should be as cherished as all the diamonds and golds, for she alone can love and understand you unconditionally. Throughout your life, you will surely find the one that will understand, accept and love you as your beloved mother once did. Only then, you will truly feel as if everything around you is made from the very stars we so adore in the sky, but to find those people that will stand by you, you will have to go through hardships and not lose yourself in the process. *he smiles and looks up at them.*

to be a freak of nature can be a gift in the world full of darkness. it is worth living, because you know that in the end, someone will gain courage from you and follow in your footsteps to reform the world into a better version, where everyone is safe to be as they are, to be whoever they want to become.

I hope I got the meaning right *he grins at them with a kind-natured booming laugh*

#hashirama senju #hashirama senju rp #will of the hokage #naruto #madara uchiha #tobirama senju #ask away #ask answered #naruto shippuden #ask thread #oh this is deep #i like this ask

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sariasprincy-writes · 5 years

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Under the Knife 01

Under the Knife MadaSaku

For @madasakuweek

Warning - This fic will contain the following: blood, violence, gun violence, torture, manipulation, coercion, gore and graphic depictions of murder. If any of these are triggering or make you uncomfortable, please do not proceed. You have been warned.

Chapter One Prompt: Abducted

Of all the ways Sakura thought her Wednesday night would end, it was not like this. After getting out of a ten-hour trauma surgery, she had planned on pouring a large glass of wine, curling up on her sofa with a good book and falling asleep before finishing the first chapter. Not by being thrown into the back of an unknown town car by a bunch of rough-looking men.

They had grabbed her out of her own staff parking lot at the hospital, squishing her between them to keep her from trying to escape out the doors. She didn’t know who they were, but the handguns on their hips had kept her from asking from too many questions. They looked mean and ready to prove their strength at any given second.

The only thing that seemed to be keeping them back was the well-dressed and otherwise handsome man that sat across from them. He wore an expensive wristwatch and a tailored suit that wrapped around his lithe, and undoubtedly, strong body. He had dark eyes and a mane of dark hair that made his pale complexion even paler but no less stunning. Sakura had seen plenty of kidnapping stories on the news during her breaks on shift, but she was pretty sure kidnappers weren’t supposed to be this attractive. For some reason, that set her further on edge.

He had only glanced at her twice after her abduction, but he held himself with an air of confidence that made it clear that his word was the one that mattered.

Like a cornered animal, Sakura curled up in the center seat with her purse clutched to her chest. She tried to make herself as small as possible, as if they might forget she was there all together. No one had said a word to her since entering the car, except for the man on her right who had warned her only once to keep quiet. She was too frightened to disobey.

Her mind raced through the reasons of why she might be there. She had no family, no money. She was no one. Well, almost no one. She was the city hospital’s newest trauma surgeon. But she had no money for a ransom. She made a decent pay check, but the majority went to her medical school bills and insurance payments. She was comfortable, but not as well off as the man in front of her seemed to be.

The inside of the vehicle was silent as they drove, the roll of rubber against the road filling the quiet until they eventually arrived at the International District. The car slowed as they approached what appeared to be an abandoned fish market.

As soon as the car pulled to a stop, the driver hopped out and opened the back door. The man in charge exited first before the guards slipped out. When she made no move to follow, one reached back in and grabbed her wrist. Her survival instincts kicked in.

“No! Let me go!”

For a minute, she struggled with the man until he hauled her from the inside of the vehicle and slammed her back hard enough against the side of the car to nearly knock the breath from her lungs.

The man in charge stepped forward then, making a vague gesture to his man to release her. Still holding her purse to her chest, Sakura peered up at him, not sure if he was going to rape her or cut straight to just killing her. After all, she had seen most of it already in her new position at the hospital.

“Dr. Haruno,” he spoke, his voice calm in comparison to her frantically beating heart. “We require your presence. The more you cooperate, the easier this will be.”

Sakura gripped her purse tighter, as if that would protect her from what may happen next. “I don’t understand. What do you want with me?”

“Our intentions will be made clear soon. Please, come.”

It was clearly an order, but she still hesitated as her escort turned and made his way inside. At least until a guard grabbed the front of her jacket near her collar and yanked her off the car. Sakura’s struggles renewed, but she wasn’t given the opportunity to escape as her captors grabbed her by the arms and forcefully made her follow.

They dragged her through the empty fish market, the sour smell of old seafood flooding her nose and mouth, and into a large backroom that was perhaps bigger than the market itself. Like going through the wardrobe into Narnia, the guards forcefully pushed her into a well-furnished room with lush carpets and hardwood floors. There were expensive paintings on the wall and handcrafted wooden feet on the couches and armchairs.

Around a large, varnished table were a handful of men looking over something she couldn’t see. Everyone was seated, some with a glass of fine whiskey in their hands or cigars hanging from their mouths. The smell made her nose scrunch up.

On the far side of the room, a man was bent over the side of the couch. Whatever he was looking at she couldn’t see, but her attention turned as her escort approached another man.

The pair looked alike with their dark hair and even darker eyes. Even their high cheekbones and strong jawlines were similar. Perhaps an older cousin or brother. He was dressed just as finely, but there was an air of absolute authority and command about him that made even her escort look small. It seemed she had been wrong. Whoever he was, he was definitely in charge.

Without looking up from his phone, this new boss listened vaguely as her escort spoke in a murmured voice. Their conversation was indecipherable amongst the quiet chatter throughout the rest of the room, but her escort must have said something important for the man in charge glanced at him before turning his sights on her.

Sakura felt as if a set of crosshairs had just fixed upon her. A chill went down her spine, but she wasn’t given the chance to run before the guards shoved her forward until she was half-standing, half-cowering before this new boss.

“Dr. Haruno Sakura, I presume,” he said. His voice was smooth and easy as if he were discussing the full moon that were out tonight.

It made Sakura bristle and she glared up at him with more bravery than she actually felt. “Who the hell are you? And how dare you kidnap me on my very own hospital property.”

The man before her was hardly fazed by her tone. He simply inclined his head minutely. “I apologize. Where are my manners? My name is Madara. And this is my brother, Izuna,” he told her.

Her escort bowed his head slightly as if his politeness now would excuse his abrupt abduction of her only twenty minutes ago.

A scowl crossed her face. “What the hell do you want?”

“Simple really,” Madara said, turning away to approach a nearby dry sink bar. On one side was a crystal glass of whiskey that he unstoppered before he filled a pristine glass. Only once he had resealed the expensive liquor did he turn back to her. “I require your skill.”

Sakura blinked in bewilderment. “My skill?” she parroted.

“Your surgical ability,” he clarified.

“What about it?”

“It seems we had a small altercation this evening,” Madara told her before taking a sip. “The Senju are becoming quite an issue for us.”

Sakura said nothing, but her expression must have expressed her continued confusion. It was like he was speaking another language.

Madara simply gestured to her. “Come.”

Knowing she would be forced to follow either way, Sakura trailed some paces behind him, her eyes darting from his back to Izuna before returning to Madara again. He stopped in front of the couch, one hand in his pocket, the other lifting his drink to his lips before he gestured towards the couch with his whiskey.

"It seems my nephews, Itachi and Shisui, may have crossed paths with a less than amiable Senju tonight. Such aggressive, violent people. Shisui needs urgent medical attention."

Now that she was standing before them, Sakura understood what was wrong. One man, apparently Shisui, was laying on the couch with blood gushing from a wound in his shoulder. It was hard to see the extent of the damage from where she stood, especially with Itachi pressing a bloodied towel to the area, but it was obvious the injury needed to be seen to immediately.

Then something crossed Sakura’s mind. Senju – she knew that name. She had heard it on the news and read about them in the newspaper whenever a violent crime had been committed within the city. There were only ever rumors, but Sakura had worked trauma in the city long enough to know there was an Underground that dealt in weapons, drugs and women.

If the Senju were Madara’s enemy, that would mean him and these men were of the Uchiha family. In other words, mafia. And Shisui was likely suffering from a bullet wound.

Her fingers itched to help him. Every nerve in her body was yelling at her to go assess the damage and fix it, but she was also aware the instant she touched him, she would be bound to these men. There would be no escape.

"I won't do this," Sakura said, her eyes still glued to the man bleeding on the couch. "I won't get involved."

Like someone had abruptly raised the needle on a record player, the room went utterly silent. Even the men around the polished table stopped what they were doing. The sudden stillness pressed down on her like a physical weight, forcing her heart into the pit of her stomach. She swallowed thickly as her eyes darted around the room. The hair on the back of her neck prickled when she found everyone was watching her, cigars and whiskey halfway to their mouths as they paused to see how this would play out.

Itachi, who was still bent over Shisui and applying pressure to his gunshot wound, was openly glaring at her. He looked as if he wanted nothing more than to hold her at gunpoint until she agreed to help. Which she realized was likely not far from the truth.

It was Madara who broke the silence. "I understand your reluctance," he said, causing her gaze to flicker back to him abruptly.

Both his tone and expression were calm, almost friendly, but she got the distinct impression it was all a front. After all, this man was the head of one of the most dangerous mobs in the country. And he wouldn't take no for an answer.

He stepped towards her, his black, perfectly polished, cap toe shoes clacking sharply against the hardwood floor. Each step was like a clock slowly ticking away the seconds left of her life, until Madara stood before her like Death himself.

Sakura shrunk under his towering form and gripped her purse tighter to her chest. He stood at least a head taller, forcing her to crane her neck back to meet his dark, obsidian gaze. He was a handsome man, at least a decade or more older than her, but the mild lines around his mouth and eyes only made her realize that as much violence as she had seen in her career, he had seen more. He had likely caused it too.

"I will only ask once,” Madara said calmly. “And you do not wish to know the consequences should you refuse."

Sakura inhaled a silent but shaky breath as her gaze briefly returned to the bleeding man on the couch. His face was pinched in obvious pain, his complexion pale as he breathed through clenched teeth. Itachi was holding pressure to the wound, but his gaze was focused on her, his eyes sharp like he was just waiting for the order to kill her should she say no. Behind Madara, Izuna stood only a few feet away, a similar expression on his face.

She only had one choice.

Flickering her gaze back to Madara, she asked, her voice coming out with a small waver, "And what happens to me after I do as you ask?"

"That depends on the condition in which Shisui is in when you are finished.”

She didn't have to ask to know what he meant. The only way she got out of this alive was if Shisui survived.

After a hesitation that seemed to stretch on for a lifetime, Sakura gave Madara a weak nod. "I'll need some tools."

Madara casually turned to Itachi then as if he hadn't just threatened her very life. "Get Dr. Haruno what she needs. You will assist her as she sees fit."

To her surprise, the glare was gone from Itachi’s face when she turned back to him. In fact, there was no emotion in his expression at all. She didn't know which she preferred, but she wasn't given the opportunity to decide before Madara turned and made his way towards a door in the back of the room, his expensive shoes clacking against the hardwood. He threw her one parting message over his shoulder.

"You better get started."

As quickly as the madness had begun, it ended. Sakura did what Madara had asked. She had dug the bullet out of Shisui's arm and stitched him back together before starting him on a course of antibiotics. Then Madara's men, this time with the absence of Izuna, had dropped her off on her apartment building's doorstep as if nothing had ever happened.

That had been over a month ago.

Since then, Sakura had done her best to move on as if the incident had never happened. She went to work as usual before heading home, most of the time catching a ride with her best friend and fellow surgeon, Naruto. She doubted his presence would keep the mafia at bay, but she felt safer than when she was by herself. Still, she couldn’t help glancing over her shoulder, as if expecting to find a shadow everywhere she turned.

Tonight was an exception. Naruto had left for home some hours ago while Sakura stayed behind to review a case. She had a high-profile surgery tomorrow and the latest labs for her patient weren’t what she was hoping.

After ordering more tests and pushing more drugs, she finally got the results she wanted. Just in time for her to go home and catch a few hours of sleep before returning to the hospital in the morning.

Yawning, Sakura shrugged on her peacoat. She grabbed her purse from her locker before she closed it and left the quiet attendings’ lounge. There were a few messages waiting for her when she finally checked her device for the first time in hours, including one from Naruto asking if she was home yet.

Smiling faintly, Sakura shot him off a quick reply that she was on her way now. The rest of the messages could wait until later. She slipped her phone into her pocket before she searched for her car keys.

Only to halt abruptly halfway to her vehicle when she realized there was a shadow leaning against the back door. In the lighting of the parking lot, all she could see was a young man dressed in a nice suit with a flashy watch and curly hair.

Shisui.

Sakura didn’t wait to see if he noticed her. She turned sharply, about to escape back into the hospital, when she ran into a wall. No, not a wall. A firm chest.

“Going somewhere?” Itachi asked.

Sakura opened her mouth, but before she could cry for help, he clamped a strong hand over her lips and leaned down to whisper, “Scream and you will regret it.”

She got the vague impression he wanted nothing more than for her to give him an excuse, but she bit down on her tongue sharply even as she shrunk under his towering presence. He didn’t give her the chance to try anything else before a town car skidded to a stop beside them.

Itachi opened the door and shoved her inside without regard for her comfort. She nearly landed on her face, only just catching herself with her hands. Automatically, she scrambled for the door on the other side, but before she could reach it, Shisui opened it and slipped inside. She was effectively trapped.

Backpedaling, Sakura crawled into the corner of the back-facing bench. Neither Itachi nor Shisui paid her any mind as they settled in. As soon as their doors were closed, the car began to move.

Sakura didn’t bother asking questions. She suspected they were heading towards where they had taken her before. Once again, she pushed herself into the corner of the seat, hoping to make herself as small as possible.

Itachi didn’t even glance at her as he scrolled through his phone, his expression akin to boredom as if she was his annoying little sister his parents had made him pick up from school. Shisui, on the other hand, wouldn’t take his eyes off her.

His arms were crossed loosely over his chest as he chewed on a piece of gum slowly. She eyed him at first as she wondered how well his wound had healed. Then she noticed his expression. It was friendly enough, but she didn’t think she liked the way the corner of his mouth was curved into a hint of a smirk or how his gaze was just a little too unwavering. He didn’t even seem to blink.

Unconsciously, Sakura flinched and turned her sights out the window. The city passed by rapidly as the car flew down the highway. They took an exit into the downtown and drove through a number of winding streets until even Sakura didn’t know where they were. Eventually they pulled into a garage and parked the car.

Itachi and Shisui both exited. When Sakura didn’t immediately follow, she heard Itachi’s voice from outside, “You have three seconds to get out on your own or I will assist you.”

She didn’t wait for him to start counting. She hurried out of the car with her purse in hand. Itachi shot her a look as if to say ‘there, wasn’t that better?’ before he turned and continued further into the garage. A silent command for her to follow.

Swallowing, Sakura didn’t dare refuse him. She had felt the hard metal of his gun when she had body slammed into him in the hospital lot and she doubted he kept it on him just for show.

Now that she had a chance to look around, she realized they weren’t in a normal parking garage. It was a loading dock. Like the kind transport trucks and vans used to deliver shipments for the offices in the building. In the middle of the bay was a large area where trucks backed in to unload their shipments onto a higher platform before they were taken into the freight elevators.

Only there weren’t any vehicles now. Just two other town cars off to the side like the one she had been kidnapped in. Again.

In one of the parking stalls was a man bound to a chair. Another man stood over him, his knuckles bloody and torn from delivering blow after audible blow. Each smack made Sakura wince. She hoped with every fiber of her being that she wasn’t next.

A second man stood beside him, his hands less damaged, but blood speckled the front of his white shirt. She didn’t recognize either man, but a few paces behind them was Izuna.

He was watching the event take place before him with a passive expression, but it shifted slightly when he glanced up at the sound of their footsteps. He eyed Sakura silently before his gaze briefly flickered up to the unloading platform above them.

Sakura followed it to find Madara standing at the railing as he supervised. He looked like an emperor overseeing his subjects in his black, iron-pressed pants. He wore a matching black vest over a white button-up shirt. The suit of his jacket hung over his shoulders, his hands in his pockets.

The first time they had met, Madara’s arms had been covered. Now, the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up. His forearms were littered with tattoos. So much so that she couldn’t tell where one ended and another began. There was more ink than skin.

He was listening to one of his men speak a few paces behind him, but his dark, dark eyes tracked their movements as Sakura ascended the stairs with Itachi and Shisui at her heels. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, hoping no one would see how badly she was shaking. She had hoped after their last meeting, she would be left alone if she did her job well. She didn’t know what Madara wanted from her now.

As soon as they reached the top step, Madara dismissed his man. Sakura tried to swallow back her fear, but she knew even with his back turned Madara could sense it. He was like a shark who could smell blood in the water.

“Good evening, Dr. Haruno. I hope you had a pleasant trip,” Madara greeted.

There was a vague hint of friendliness in his tone as if he actually cared how her car ride was. It made her anger briefly overpower her terror.

“If you call being manhandled into the back of a car pleasant, then sure,” she retorted coolly.

For a moment, Sakura wondered if she had pushed him too far already with her sharp reply when Madara turned around. He seemed to scrutinize her before his eyes landed on the pair behind her.

“Gentleman, I thought I made it clear you were to treat the Doctor with respect,” he said. His tone was calm enough but there was a hint of ice that made the hair on the back of her neck prickle. And she wasn’t even on the receiving end.

Itachi’s glare burned a hole into her back, but she refused to look behind her.

“She was treated fairly enough, given her uncooperative behavior,” Itachi said indifferently.

Madara eyed them a moment before his gaze returned to her, his expression once more an apathetic mask. “My apologies, but we do in fact need your assistance once more this evening. There was a small incident an hour ago that we do not need to go into the details of. All you need to know is one of our men sustained a severe injury. He was stabbed in the abdomen with a blade.”

At the end of his assessment, Madara’s gaze turned towards the far side of the wall. Sakura followed it to find a group of men huddled together she hadn’t noticed until now. They were standing around a makeshift bed that consisted of an old table covered with moving pads. The top blanket was dark blue, but the side of it was stained almost black with what she could only guess was blood.

The doctor in her zoned in on the injury, trying to assess the damage from where she stood. From her distance, it was impossible to tell what condition the man was in. The only thing she was certain of was that he was much worse off than Shisui had been. This man was likely in critical condition. She would need more than just a couple of tools.

As if it had just occurred to her where she was, Sakura peered about the loading dock. It was dirty. And not just because the scent of blood lingered in the air. There were pools of stagnant water in the corners of the room, left over from the rainstorm the night before. Cockroaches scurried from one crate to another and everything seemed to be coated in a fine layer of dust. At least when she had stitched up Shisui, they had been in a cleaner environment.

Sakura shook her head in exasperation. “I work in a hospital with unlimited resources and equipment, and a team of trained staff. What exactly do you expect me to do here?”

When she turned back to Madara she found he was watching her with an utterly blank expression. He didn’t look angry, but she got the impression she would have to watch her tongue and how she addressed him in front of his subordinates more carefully moving forward. Lest she preferred being the city’s best dead trauma surgeon.

“I expect you to do your very best to save him,” Madara told her like a parent chiding their child.

Even though she wanted nothing more than to shrink away from his towering form, she couldn’t stop herself from frowning in frustration. “You said you would leave me alone after helping Shisui.”

“I said you would be released. Not that you wouldn’t be called upon in the future as our needs arise.”

Scraping together all the bravery she could muster, she shook her head. “I won’t do this again.”

Madara’s expression didn’t exactly change, but a shadow seemed to flicker behind his eyes like when a bird or airplane briefly flew in front of the sun. He said nothing, but a faint click from Itachi had her glancing over her shoulder.

He had drawn his gun. It wasn’t pointed at her, but the threat was clear. Far clearer than it had ever been before.

She clung to the last bit of her quickly dissolving courage as she returned her gaze to Madara. “If you kill me, he will die.”

Well eventually at least. If they hurried and got him to the hospital, he might still survive, but his chances were growing slimmer and slimmer with each passing second. They were wasting time. And Madara knew it.

“The same offer I provided to you with Shisui applies now,” he told her.

Meaning the only way she survived was if the man did too.

“And after that, you’ll leave me alone?” she asked, trying her best to keep her voice from wavering.

Perhaps she was pressing her luck, but if she didn’t stand her ground, these men would walk all over her. Some silent thought passed behind Madara’s eyes, but it was gone so quickly she wondered if she had imagined it. Then he gave her his ultimatum.

“If he survives, we can discuss it further.”

It wasn’t the answer she wanted, but it was all Madara was willing to give her at that time. She held his gaze for one moment that seemed to stretch on for hours and then another before she gave a silent but frustrated sigh and got to work.

Sakura didn’t know how long she stood over the man – the gangster – as she attempted to stem the bleeding. He had been stabbed in the upper right quadrant of the abdominal cavity. She knew for sure his liver had been nicked, but judging by his poor breathing, she suspected the lower portion of his lung had been pierced as well.

If she had an ultrasound or any medical piece of equipment other than a single scalpel and some crappy sutures, she might be able to save him, but as each second passed, she could feel his life slipping away. And with it, hers.

Another warm gush of blood slid down the back of Sakura’s hand and down her arm before collecting on the sleeve of her shirt. The material was dyed red, but the deep crimson turned it nearly black everywhere it touched.

She paid it no mind. Her entire focus centered on how she could possibly delay this man’s death. He had been in terrible agony when she had first started, but as the blood continued to stain her hands and the moving pad beneath him, he had quickly lost consciousness. She didn’t even know if he would want saving at this point. The muscles were sliced clean through, his liver had damage and she would be lucky to save his lung. His quality of life would be terrible. But she had to try. Because her life depended upon it too.

“Fuck,” Sakura cursed.

She grabbed a large wad of bandages from the little medical kit they had provided her and began shoving gauze inside the hole in the man’s chest. She didn’t know if they were sanitary at this point, but she was far past the ability to care. She had to do something to stop the bleeding.

“What the hell are you doing?” Shisui asked somewhere over her shoulder. She had been left in his and Itachi’s charge.

Sakura didn’t look up as she continued her work. “I’m packing the injury. This is beyond what I can do here. He needs a hospital.”

“That’s not an option.”

“That’s the only option if you want him to live!” she retorted.

Shisui might have said something else, but she was no longer listening for she glanced at her patient to find he was no longer breathing. Another long string of curses slipped between her lips before she placed her palms on the man’s chest and began compressions.

Somewhere very far in the back of her mind, she knew it was useless. But the louder, even more urgent voice yelled at her to keep going. If not for him, then for herself.

She put all her strength and energy into her compressions. She pushed down until his ribs cracked and his cartilage crunched beneath her hands. The seconds stretched onto minutes and the minutes into what felt like hours until Sakura’s arms ached. Her body quit before her mind gave the option.

Numb, her hands stilled over his chest. Her eyes drifted over the now-deceased man’s face. He was grey. Whatever blood might still be circling from her attempted CPR was pooling in his abdominal cavity and seeping through the gauze she had shoved into his side.

Utterly spent, Sakura stepped back from the table only for her knees to give out on her. She would have collapsed to the floor hard enough to bruise if it hadn’t been for the pair of hands that helped soften her fall. She didn’t know who it was. She didn’t dare look at them. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the man on the table.

He was dead. Which meant only one thing: she would follow shortly.

Sakura’s gaze dropped to her hands. They were stained crimson, wet and sticky, but they didn’t tremble. They never shook. No matter how stressed she was. And given the circumstances, she was under a great deal at the moment.

As soon as Madara learned of her failure, he would kill her. She wondered if he would be merciful with a simple bullet to the back of her skull; or would he make her suffer a slow, painful death before he dumped her in some ditch on the outskirts of town?

Sakura couldn’t move. She wondered if her body even remembered how to. She just sat there. It could have been a minute. It could have been a year. Then she heard the sharp clip of Madara’s exclusive, polished shoes. Her eyes didn’t leave her hands as he stopped a pace behind her. She barely dared to breathe as he delivered his verdict.

“Itachi, dispose of this,” he ordered. Then the longest pause in the world followed before he finally said, “Shisui…take her home.”

Amazed, Sakura turned her gaze up to Madara slowly as she tried to process if she had just heard him correctly. He simply stared down at her. His expression was utterly unreadable, but for a moment she thought she saw the slightest shift of something behind his eyes. She couldn’t be sure, but he turned and walked away before she could look closer.

Stunned, Sakura didn’t move as his footsteps faded away. She likely would have sat there forever had Shisui not finally reached down and helped her to her feet. The real world felt so far away. Like she was seeing everything through water. She barely remembered being guided into the car.

The next thing she knew, she was standing in front of her apartment door, her shirt and hands still stained with blood. Not even the hottest shower could seem to scrub it all away.

tbc…

#madasaku #madasakuweek0320 #under the knife #chapter 01 #mafia au #mobster!madara #surgeon!sakura #prompt: abducted #tw: blood #tw:violence #tw: gun violence #tw: manipulation #tw: coercion #tw: murder #Uchiha Madara #Haruno Sakura

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raendown · 4 years

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Pairing: MadaraSakura Word count: 6940 Rated: M Summary: It took yelling and insults and everything but an outright accusation for Sakura to get through to him - and then she got under him.

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A Pleasure Doing Business

She was wearing a new suit today. Madara’s eyes followed the woman closely as she marched down the hallways, hard green eyes staring bluntly forward, refusing to meet his gaze yet despite the clear glass walls making it all too easy. Almost every day for the past several weeks he had seen her stomping past his office with fury in every line of her body and always she wore a tidy power suit tailored specifically to draw his eye. Today’s suit was a crisp mint color that set off her bubblegum hair like a double stacked ice cream cone he craved to run his tongue over.

The door of his office slammed against its own rubber stopper with an ominous rattle when she pushed it open. It was only in the past week that she’d finally bullied her way past the army of secretaries and assistants to approach him personally, tired of being given the run around by old men determined to talk circles around her without answering a single question. Madara was of two minds about this. On the one hand he would never say no to a pretty lady’s company, especially one with a mind as intelligent as hers, but on the other hand he was getting tired of being on the business end of that sharp tongue.

Haruno Sakura was a name he had only vaguely recognized in articles from his local newspaper until the day she slammed in to his personal space with vitriol hidden in the legal jargon dressing up her temper as something almost polite. Then he was forcibly reminded of the girl he’d had a minor crush on in his senior year of university. He felt no guilt for forgetting her, it had been years since his school days and it wasn’t like they’d had any classes together; he’d never even really had more than a handful of conversations with her back then. For the first several times she barged in to spit the most politely worded acid he’d ever heard Madara thought she might have forgotten him as well. She disabused him of that the first time he caught her sneering at the MBA certificate hanging on his wall.

She spared another glower for the intricately framed document now, something that had almost become a ritual of her visits.

“Not only is everyone you employ morally bankrupt,” she growled, forgoing any pretense of friendly greetings, “but their boss is crooked beyond repair!”

“I am their boss,” Madara pointed out.

“Yes. I do not retract my statement.”

“Well a good morning to you as well, Haruno-san. I take it you received the latest proposal we sent you?”

If he were honest Madara had only a very vague idea of what that proposal contained. Owning the company didn’t necessarily mean he needed to micromanage every piece of paperwork that left the building. That’s what he paid other people to do. Every member on the board of directors had been handpicked by his father, people he knew that he could trust to take care of the boring day-to-day. No need for him to bother them all by shoving his nose in to every little thing.

“This?” Sakura held up a folder he hadn’t noticed her carrying. “If you’re talking about this rag, I don’t know how you can dare to call it a proposal!” With a scoff she tossed it down on his desk. Madara watched the papers slip out with a mild expression, irritated to have a mess made of his work space but unwilling to show it.

“How many times do I have to tell you that I’m not the one to yell at? Go talk to my board of directors.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be in charge of them? How can you let them do things like this?”

Slamming her hands down on his desk put her in a rather suggestive position. Were he someone with a little less tact Madara noted that he could have slid his eyes down for the perfect view inside her top. It didn’t matter how attractive she was, though. He wasn’t a pig. And despite the base urges of his body to crawl between those deliciously strong thighs he wasn’t sure he would survive a woman who clearly hated him so badly.

Instead he deliberately yawned and flicked some of the papers back towards her, turning back to his computer in a clear dismissal.

“Yeah, I’m in charge,” he said. “Which means I delegate responsibilities and I have delegated the unpleasant task of listening to your childish rants off to someone else. Go bother them.”

“Ugh! How can you be so infuriating!? I don’t care what the rest of my colleagues think! Without me signing off there will be no contract with your company and I refuse to do business with someone who can turn a blind eye to such disgusting practices!”

Keeping both palms flat on the desk, she glared at him over the massive wooden surface as though the weight of her ire alone could force him to break. Madara stared back at her with as little expression as he could muster. If nothing else these little visits were excellent practice for that fabled self control his brother was always nagging at him for lacking. So maybe he had a bit of a temper. Big deal. At least he hadn’t snapped yet and thrown anything at her no matter how many times he’d been tempted by the various heavy objects within arms reach.

His lawyers had advised against doing that anymore.

“Nothing that goes on here is in any way illegal, I've been assured of that,” he said.

“Oh you’ve been assured. Of course. I forgot how lazy you are. Still riding through life on daddy’s coattails and letting everyone else do the work for you.” Sakura dragged her palms back and straightened with a look of derision. “You haven’t changed at all, you know that?”

“I’m still as handsome as ever?” Madara grinned, enjoying the twitch of her left eye.

“What does the outside matter? All I see are your ugly spoiled insides.”

He let the sound of his careless laughter follow her out the door, watching her storm down the hall to go bother the people who had actually written the proposal sent to her company. Only when she was well out of sight did he allow the expression to drop. Hands clenching in to fists, brows furrowing, he lowered his eyes to the mess on files spread across his space. Whatever was in there couldn’t be all that bad, could it? It wasn’t like they were doing anything illegal.

Alone now, there was no one there to watch him consciously loosen his fingers only to drum them agitatedly against the deks. Letting your opponent see that they had gotten to you in any way was a weakness one could not afford. He’d learned that from his father. What bothered him was how right she was about the fact that he’d gotten most of what he had in life simply by being Tajima’s son, a fact he usually found some way to justify so he didn’t have to admit it even to himself. There was just something about Haruno Sakura that got under his skin the way no one else had ever managed to. Afterimages of those green eyes staring at him with disappointment made him scowl even as he shot one hand out to gather the paperwork together, dragging in towards himself.

Maybe he’d gotten in to university because his father paid off the school. And maybe he’d risen through the company so fast because no one dared say anything about their boss’ son. Yes, maybe he had even stepped in to the position of CEO because he inherited his father’s majority shares when he passed away of a lingering illness a few years back. None of that made him incompetent. Madara liked to think he was a smart man with more to offer than just his last name. He would show her. Whatever was in this stupid proposal that riled her up so badly, he was sure he could figure out a way to placate Sakura in to signing off on it. He might not pay as much attention as he probably should but he knew enough to tell that the shipping company Sakura sat on the board for was the cheapest and fastest way to ship the goods his company produced.

Over the distant sounds of someone else getting screamed at Madara was able to read through every document in the folder. And with every line his grew wider and wider in horror. The part of his brain that desperately didn’t want to believe what he was seeing tried to come up with some plausible situation in which Sakura might have fabricated everything on these papers no matter how ridiculous but even as his thoughts raced for an excuse he knew that none of them could be true. There was no denying the signatures on the very last page.

“What”-he whispered quietly to himself-“the fuck.”

After reading through everything he organized the lot of it back in to the order it was meant to be and read through the whole thing again just to be sure he hadn’t imagined anything. It was hard to believe something this full of bullshit had come out of a company with his name on it. Suddenly all the times Sakura had leaned over the desk to scream at him felt much more appropriate.

Distracted as he was by such awful discoveries, Madara nearly leapt straight out of his chair when the door opened with a smack of someone’s hand against the glass. He looked up to find the woman he’d just been thinking about storming back in to the room.

“I didn’t mean to leave that with you,” she said, reaching for the folder he’d only just closed.

“You’re taking it?”

“Get your own copy if you want something to gloat over,” Sakura growled.

Reaching across the desk, she took hold of the folder only to stop with an exasperated sigh when Madara put his hand down to keep the papers in place. “I’ve just read these,” he said.

“Congratulations. Now give it back.”

“I hadn’t seen these before.”

“Not keeping up with everything happening right under your nose? Figures. That sounds like you; just as lazy and entitled as you always were. Now let me have my documents!”

Madara pressed down harder to keep them in place while his brows furrowed in irritation. “We’ve shipped with your company before. Have all the contracts we’ve made with you looked like this?”

Seeing that she would not be getting the papers back until they had the conversation he wanted, Sakura took her hand back and folded both arms with a scowl. It was an unfairly good look on her and a testament to how shaken he was that Madara couldn’t even concentrate on the way anger lit up her features.

“Obviously some of the things in there weren’t part of the proposal, I printed them off myself as evidence to back up my claims against your frankly disgusting practices. How do you live with yourself?” The heat of her glare would no doubt have been much more effective if he weren’t already reeling with disbelief. Sakura gave him a rather suspicious look when he relinquished his hold, allowing her to slide the folder over and pick it up.

“I didn’t authorize any of that,” he said.

“Yes you did!” One of her perfectly shaped eyebrows lifted in judgment. “Are you or are you not in charge of this company?”’

“Well- I mean yes- Haruno-san, I’ve never seen those documents before in my life! I swear to you! I had no idea any of this was happening!” Madara leaned forward as though a closer proximity might help impress upon her just how serious he was. Whether or not that worked, she didn’t look all that impressed.

“Just because you’ve been complacent and made a clown show out of your own job does not absolve you of the responsibility. You turning a blind eye allowed for your company to take part in these disgustingly unethical practices and I refuse to do business with someone whose morals can be bought with compliments and a fancy office. Find someone else to ship your slave-made, cheaply sourced, landfill fodder goods! So long as I sit on the board it will not be us!”

She turned to leave, stopping to look back when Madara stood from his chair with a loud clatter. “Wait! You don’t understand!”

“Oh?”

“If I had known any of this was going on- you have to believe me, I would never have let any of this happen. Will you…” A scowl touched his face to match her, hating the words even as he forced them out of his mouth. “Will you help me?”

Sakura blinked.

“Help you?” she asked in surprise. Madara pointed to the files she was holding.

“You said you dug up a bunch of that evidence on your own. I can’t just fire my entire board without cause. Especially not since I’ve allowed them to take over so many things, they’ve probably got more power than me over this shit. Father told me I could trust them so I always figured there was no point in another pair of eyes looking over everyone’s shoulders. I just let them do their jobs and never gave much thought to whether or not they were actually doing it right.” Admitting that much stung. The rest he forced out between his teeth, guilt heavy in his chest but so unused to asking others for help. “I’ll need to get as much information as I can before I start making any accusations, I need to know exactly what’s been going on here and how much I’ve overlooked. Will you help me?”

“Well. I was not expecting that.” All the aggression seemed to flow out of Sakura’s body, shoulders lowering and one hip jutting out as she propped her weight on that side. Under better circumstances he might have been distracted by how the movement pulled at the skirt of her suit, by the way he wanted to tear that mint cotton off her skin with his teeth, but not now. He could think of nothing but how to prove his question was a sincere one.

Bruising his pride a little was the only thing he could come up with, a sacrifice he hadn’t made for anyone since he was very young. Taking a deep breath, he took a quick glance on either side to make sure they weren’t being watched through the walls, then spoke very quietly. “Please.”

“Just tell me one thing. Why should I?”

“Because you’ve been in here yelling at me about corrupt morals and shit for weeks now,” Madara growled, nearing the end of his patience. “You were the one who said we need to clean our shit up; I’m offering a chance for you to show me all the messes these people have made right under my nose.”

“Oh if only I could go back to that first year in university and tell myself this moment was coming.” Smug was a damn good look on her, he had to admit that much.

“So are you going to help me or not?” He demanded.

He had his answer in one decisive nod and the way she too looked around furtively to make sure their conversation had no chance of being overheard. Then she stepped back over to hold one hand out across the desk. When Madara took it she squeezed his fingers with a grip much stronger than her slight frame belied.

“I guess I do need to put my money where my mouth is. We should meet up somewhere private. I’ll gather everything I’ve dug up so far and all the contracts and proposals we’ve had from Uchiha Tech over the last few years.” Sakura let go of his hand to flick the hair back over her shoulder. “It’ll take a while for me to get it all together but I’ll contact you when I have it. Do you have somewhere we could meet?”

“My place should do.” Madara scowled when she lifted an eyebrow at him but didn’t bother to defend his suggestion. Let her think what she wanted of him.

As far as he could tell no one took much notice of Sakura when she left that day. It wasn’t exactly an uncommon sight by now to see her marching through the glass hallways with all the regal bearing of a queen traversing her own kingdom. Madara watched her go until the shape of her form was distorted by so many walls between them before leaning back in his chair and tilting his chin up to stare at the ceiling. He tried to imagine how he would have reacted to being openly accused of even half the things he’d just read, the terrible working conditions, the unethical demands, the work hours listed that clearly meant whoever produced their tech was either not taking breaks or working too many hours or both. Probably with scorn for the accuser’s overactive imagination or anger that someone could dare believe such things of him. In all the many rants Sakura had gone in to she’d never once outright accused him of anything, only hinted, something he realized he should have been grateful for.

Now he sat and counted the ceiling tiles above him to distract his mind from instinctive rage as he tried to come to terms with the idea that she was right, he was responsible for everything that had gone wrong in this company. Whether or not these practices had been going on when his father was alive Madara couldn’t say but when he took the helm himself - well. He could see now that he really had been the lazy spoiled child Sakura had called him many times. Just because he hadn’t actively taken part in any of these barely legal activities didn’t mean he was blameless. He was supposed to be in charge.

Yet here he sat in the quiet of his office and he knew that if he continued to sit here for several more hours not a single person would disturb him. He was so far removed from his own company and he had only himself to blame for it.

Gathering evidence from his end wasn’t exactly some top secret mission dodging around the people who supposedly answered to him. Copies of almost everything sat right there in the room with him. Madara was horrified to realize that everything his directors had done had been with his full and completely ignorant approval. Every contract, every major decision, every change to the staffing policies, all of it had been laid politely on his desk and then filed neatly away after a quick glance at the cover so he could go on pretending he had any idea of what the fuck his actual duties were supposed to be around here.

The easy life of luxury he’d been enjoying for years was slipping between his fingers with every file and folder he pulled out to actually read in detail but Madara couldn’t find it in himself to be too angry about that part. Lots of people worked hard for their money. It was probably about time he joined those ranks. Much as Sakura didn’t seem to think so, he really did have a work ethic hidden somewhere inside him; it was just that he’d thought he could trust the old geezers here and they’d seemed happier when he stayed out of their way. As a young man barely out of school being handed so much at once he’d thought it was all a dream come true and left it at face value.

What a naive child he’d been all these years.

Actually removing all the files he wanted for evidence took much longer than finding them in his mockingly well organized office. When Sakura told him she needed time he had chafed at the delay but in the end he was grateful for it, heading home each day with bits and pieces hidden in the briefcase most assumed was just for show. They’d been right up until recently.

By the time Sakura contacted him on his personal cell - a number he would have loved to know how she’d got ahold of - Madara was only too glad to welcome her in to his home and the living room that now looked more like the archives of Uchiha Tech than a place to relax in. He felt validated in some strange way to see the approval in her eyes as she looked around at all the mess he’d made.

“Well, someone certainly has been busy,” she noted.

“You’re not wearing a suit,” Madara blurted, immediately wanting to slap himself upside the head. Of course she wasn’t wearing a suit outside of work. It wasn’t like he’d never seen her in more casual clothes before, just that it had been so long the sight of her in little shorts and a plain tshirt did things to his belly he wasn’t all that prepared to deal with.

Sakura lifted one eyebrow with a dubious smile. “I worry for your intelligence sometimes.”

“Hey!”

“Anyway, I’ve got almost this much crap myself but hauling it all here would have taken too long. Luckily my company likes to have digital copies of everything so I’ve brought a couple flash drives. Have you got a computer we can use?”

“Yeah, hold on.”

Madara left her alone just long enough to gently bash his head on the wall and grab his laptop from the next room. By the time he came back Sakura had made herself comfortable on the sofa, one pile of the papers he’d gathered pulled in to her lap where she could flip through it with ease.

“These aren’t anything sensitive, are they? No client information from anyone else or the like?”

“I’m not stupid,” he grunted.

She hummed distractedly and paused to look closer at something. “No, not stupid. You do have a brain in your head for all that you’ve insisted on wasting it.”

“Look.” Madara threw out a hand to slap down on the pile of papers she was looking at, blocking her view of them and capturing her attention for himself. “Fuck off, alright? If you just came here to gloat or whatever then you’re no longer welcome. You were right, I already admitted that, I can see how much of a willfully ignorant bastard I’ve been - but I’m making an effort here to change that, alright?”

“Change what, exactly?”

“My ways or however you want to say it. I want to do better than I have been. Be a better person, a better worker, leader. To do that I need to start with figuring out how deep this corruption in my company goes and how large of a chunk I need to cut off before I start cleansing the wound.”

For nearly a whole minute Sakura remained completely silent, staring at him with something unreadable in her eyes. “Medical analogies?”

“My best friend’s a doctor.” He shrugged.

“I wanted to be a doctor when I was a kid,” Sakura murmured.

When she broke eye contact to look away Madara studied the shape of her jawline, realizing suddenly how close they were.

“Really? How did you end up here, then?”

Her expression remained far away until she looked back to him again and Madara took several moments to study her even closer, anxious that he might be misinterpreting something. That look in her eyes was a familiar one. He’d seen it on dozens of women before, though he never would have expected to see it on her after the interactions they’d had. When the heat only intensified, however, all he could do was cock his head to the side and stare back, leaving the next move up to his guest. Lust was a game he was all too willing to play no matter how unexpected it was.

Sakura didn’t seem very aware of the way her tongue darted out to wet her lips, all of her focus locked on to him. All it would take was misinterpreting this one moment and Madara would have lost his only ally in taking down the ones he’d allowed to undermine him. Despite knowing that he still couldn’t quite stop his eyes from following that small flash of pink.

“I’ve been asking myself that same question,” she said finally. He got the distinct impression she wasn’t talking about her career. “You really are putting in some effort here, aren’t you? Trying to be better?”

“Obviously.”

“Why?”

Madara balked. “What do you mean why?”

“This is a big life change. What motivated you to do it?”

“Well”-he floundered for a moment, trying to put his thoughts in to words-“it’s the right thing to do, isn’t it?”

She moved so fast and so unexpectedly that for a moment it didn’t entirely register what had happened. It took a few seconds before Madara groaned and let his eyes slide closed, cradling the back of Sakura’s head to pull her closer for a deeper kiss. Hopefully she could tell him later what the hell he’d said to get her going but for now he was happy just to enjoy the taste of bitter coffee on her tongue.

After the many times he’d seen her channel so much passion in to her work it shouldn't have surprised him to see it again now, shoving him down on the couch with surprisingly strong arms and crawling in to his lap all without breaking their kiss. Madara grunted when his head glanced off the armrest but ignored it. His attention was better spent tracing the shape of her hips down to where denim gave way to smooth pale thighs. She kissed like it would give her the oxygen to breathe, like a beast let out of its cage after holding herself back, and that was definitely a feeling he could relate to.

“Fucking stupid sexy asshole,” Sakura growled in to his mouth. “I hated you so much when we were in school.”

“Oh yeah, I really feel that hatred now.”

“You just had to grow up to be even more arrogant, even more hot!” When she pulled away he garbled out a protest only to fall silent as she tore her own shirt off, baring her teeth like an animal. “I kept telling myself ‘don’t look, just don’t look, he’s not worth it’. Then you had to go and be a good person? How dare you!”

“Mph!”

Whatever reply he could have given was swallowed in the fire of another kiss. Delicate fingers pulled at the hem of his own shirt and Madara responded instinctively, working a hand between their bodies to where he could cup the outline of one petite breast. It wasn’t like she was wearing any special sort of lingerie, just a plain bra with little blue polka dots, and still she was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen in his life. Probably it had something to do with the way she looked like some vicious lioness on the prowl.

He truly did not mind being her prey.

“Good to know we’ve always been on the same page,” he managed to get out between hot kisses. Sakura let out a filthy moan as though his words had hit something deep inside her.

“Shut up and fuck me!”

“Ha! You don’t get to tell me what to do!” Mindless of the papers that scattered in every direction or the hours it would surely take him to clean it all up later, Madara took shameless advantage of his larger frame to sit them both up and slam them back down on the opposite end of the couch, pausing a moment to enjoy the sight of pink hair splashed out underneath him. “I’ve wanted to do this ever since you waltzed in to my office in one of those stupid power suits. Do you know how good you look in those things?”

Gasping for breath, she pulled him down without bothering to respond. That was all the invitation he needed.

Removing the rest of their clothes wasn’t so much of a romantic process as it was an animalistic tearing of cloth, hands palming flesh wherever they could as they devoured each other with lips and tongues and teeth. It felt like only moments ago they had been nothing but partners in stopping crime. Now they lay naked with their hips rolling together, hard flesh grinding against coarse pink curls, long thighs parting to wrap around his waist.

“I swear to god if you don’t have a condom-”

“Vasectomy,” Madara gasped. “Hate kids. Tested last month, I’m clean.”

“Then what in hell’s name are you waiting for!?”

“I thought you swore to god,” he said, grinning down at her. “But I can give you hell if that’s what you’re in to.”

Sakura glared. Then her eyes softened to half mast when he reached down to trace her entrance, wet with a need he felt just as strongly, arching in to the touch. He could feel the muscles in her thighs loosen deliberately as he took himself in hand and lined up with the bliss waiting so eagerly for him.

“Oh fuck!” The words hissed out from between clenched teeth as he slid inside, instantly overwhelmed by the heat that sheathed him in a perfect fit.

For once in her life Sakura didn’t seem to have any words, although she clearly seemed to agree with his sentiments if the way her heels dug in to his back was any indication, pulling him impossibly closer. He was only too happy to comply. Curses filled the air as he sank deeper, rocking his hips in shallow thrusts until his pelvis lay flush against her. Then she moaned at him to move and that too was an order he was happy to follow. Pulling away was such sweet torture rewarded with the pleasaure of sliding back in and feeling her clench around him. It really had been too long.

Whether it had been a while for her as well or if she was just that desperate to feel him he couldn’t tell but either way Madara felt a little smug about the way Sakura arched her back when he slid one hand under the small of her back to hold their chests together, pulling her body in to his with each sharp thrust forward. He might have been embarrassed by the unfettered noises punched out of him again and again by such overwhelming pleasure if not for the fact that Sakura echoed him every time, filthy moans and gasps and sharp curses spilling from her lips without a single thought for decorum. It was driving him wild. He always had liked a woman who wasn’t afraid to show that she was enjoying herself - and he would be willing to bet Sakura had never been afraid of anything in her life.

Her mouth now occupied driving him higher and higher, Madara busied his own with nipping a trail down the side of her neck, tracing his tongue down the ridges of her clavicle, worshipping every inch of pale skin he could reach without folding his body in a way that would interrupt the rhythm of their hips. If the world fell down around his ears he wasn’t sure even that would convince him to stop now. Not when Sakura was holding him tightly, arching up as though offering her breasts for his wandering teeth to feast on.

“Is that all you’ve got?” she asked, breath hot between them, lips parted in a grin that promised blood. Madara wondered if it was possible to fall in love so quickly.

“That a challenge?” he demanded in panted syllables.

“Give me everything you’ve got.”

In that moment he would have given her whatever she asked; his time, his fortune, his very heart. He was almost glad she didn’t. A challenge had been issued and he was nothing if not a very proud man. Curving his spine ever so slightly gave him room to work a hand between them, scratching blunt nails down the soft skin of her belly just to watch her squirm, through the curls between her thighs. When he pressed his thumb down on just the right spot Sakura cried out sharply, trembling.

“Like that?” Madara was aware of how smug he sounded. He didn’t care.

Neither did she, it seemed, as long as he kept doing what he was doing. So Madara made another circle with firm pressure and grit his teeth when she clenched around him in response, knowing that if he couldn’t bring her over the edge soon he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back for much longer.

“Harder!” Sakura demanded, writhing like she could barely contain the pressure building inside.

“Anything you ask,” he promised.

His thumb pressed harder, circled faster, hips rocking back just to watch her cry out for him and then sinking back in with enough force he would not be surprised to find bruises on both their hips the next day. One more circle around her clit and Sakura convulsed like a woman possessed. Her body twisted underneath him, clenching around his length. There was nothing he could do but press inside one last time with a guttural moan spilling between his teeth even as he spilled himself inside her. Madara fell still, letting his head drop forward to rest against the top of her shoulder and breathe through the shudders wracking his body. He was far from the playboy many seemed to label him as but he’d had his fair share of partners throughout the years; none of them had ever been like this before. Nothing had ever left him feeling quite as shaken as the weight of Sakura’s fingers twisted in to his hair as though she never planned to let him go.

When he felt more in control of his own shivering muscles he pushed himself up just far enough to look down at the woman spread out beneath him, this glorious powerhouse all wrapped up in a tiny perfect package. Sakura looked back at him through hooded eyes.

“I don’t suppose I could convince you to respect me in the morning?” she asked with a hint of amusement. Madara let out a soft bark of laughter.

“Maybe if you stayed the night.”

“Weren’t we supposed to be working?”

“Hey, you’re the one who jumped me,” he pointed out.

Sakura puffed out both cheeks with annoyance, a startlingly cute display after leaping at him like a wildcat. “I would hardly say I jumped you!”

Rather than argue the point, for once Madara decided to just let it go. Pulling away to sit up, separating their bodies, was as distasteful as it was necessary. Thankfully he didn’t have to go far. In one swipe he managed to grab some tissues from the nightstand and his pants from the ground before sitting up even farther to allow Sakura some room to clean herself up a bit. Sex was always a messy afair.

In an effort not to stare like a creep Madara bunched his pants over his lap and took a moment to look around at the mess they’d made of his neatly piled paperwork. Cleaning that all up and reorganizing it was going to take hours but he couldn’t bring himself to care about that; he would have knocked over every crate and pile in this room for the chance to have this woman underneath him willingly. Not that he’d ever planned on mentioning that. He peeked sideways, wondering what it would take to have this again, already addicted after just one taste yet not entirely sure now was the time to ask for more.

“Can you see where my shirt went?” Sakura asked. “If you want me to look through any of this I need a shirt on. Men always get distracted when there’s breasts flying about.”

“Just appreciating nature’s good work,” he replied in a dry tone. His movements were sluggish as he reached for the shirt, trying and failing to be subtle about taking one last glimpse just in case this was his last chance to do so. She rolled her eyes when she caught him.

“You can see them again later - after we’ve actually gone through some of this.”

Madara swallowed back the urge to squirm like an eager child but his voice was still embarrassingly hopeful when he snapped his head around to say, “Yeah? Again?”

Soft cotton slid through his fingers like the ghost of her touch, Sakura’s expression careful but open as she pulled the shirt from his loose grasp and tugged it over her head. Her finger lifted to twist the hem seemingly of their own accord while her gaze held his own. A thousand answers waited for him in those eyes. He wished he knew how to read them.

“Well, I mean, it was good. No denying that. Apparently I misjudged who you really are underneath all that bluster and that stupid cocky grin; I wouldn’t mind digging a little deeper.” She shrugged, an attempt at being casual that worked about as well as his own attempt, and that was enough for him to understand.

“Right. Let’s get to it then.”

He strove for nonchalance and an offhand tone even though inside he was floating, lighter than he’d felt in years. When he asked for Sakura’s help he really hadn’t meant to ask for anything more, convinced she was only helping him because their agendas had finally aligned, but he was hardly going to complain about getting closer to someone who had always seemed far beyond his reach. He wasn’t one to question good fortune when it landed so nicely in his lap.

“Now that your eyes are open, first we doctor whatever poison has spread through your company.” Sakura stood from the couch to pull her shorts on, prodding her neglected underwear aside with one toe before looking up at him to wink. “Then maybe I’ll let you show me what sort of man you can really be when you put your mind to it.”

Madara scoffed but it did nothing to hide the smile growing on his face. Courting this woman promised to be as much of a challenge as arguing with her was - and that was a challenge he found himself excited to face. When this was all over and the two of them had salvaged what they could of his company, maybe he should offer her a job. To have her light in all facets of his life; now that sounded like a worthy adventure.

#rae writes #commission #madasaku #madara #sakura #modern au

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senjuofthesea · 4 years

Text

{ f o r s c i e n c e }

@probably-drunk-madara

#2 [ prev ] << >> [ next ]

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Tobirama prides himself in being smart.

It doesn't take too long for him to notice things - he grows up realising that he will never be the brother that matters. It is a horrible thing to grow up with, many would say so, but Tobirama likes to think of himself as an opportunist. His father's infatuation and laser focus on making Hashirama his next-in-line had always allowed him to slip under his father's watchful gaze.

And like a smart man, he makes the most out of that fact, milking the way his father's ignorance allows him to pursue his education of choice and a major in Forensic. It momentarily spares him the need to be a model Senju, the kind he always sees in the city's newspaper before he throws them out. It gives him some semblance of freedom.

He takes his freedom and goes; until he doesn't and gets it thrown back in his face by the appearance of one (1) Uchiha Madara.

Now, Tobirama had never liked Madara. He spent grad school with a pillow over his head just to avoid having to hear his brother's late-night phone calls with him. He never realised there was anything between them, subconsciously having filtered that out of his mind. Things got worse when the two were forced to meet face to face.

Heated glanced from across the lecture halls ended up in fistfights on the front lawns of suburbian homes and parking lots of fast food joints. Tobirama never realised he unconsciously sought it out after a while - irking Madara suddenly became a hobby that stuck with him throughout his whole academic undergraduate career. And in a twisted way, he loved it.

That is why meeting Madara in graduate school triggers some kind of a Pavlovian reflex within him. His fight-or-flight mechanism activates and as much as he is ready to start a fight then and there, fighting on academic ground is below him.

Madara looks as good as Tobirama remembers him to, if good is defined by permanent eyebags and a sour demeanour that makes even Tobirama's own tasteless complexion pale in comparison. Not like he is any better. It is the beginning of the school year and he already looks like he had not slept a moment in the past three days, powered only by whatever caffeinated concoction he has in his obscenely pretentious KeepCup (it has a little wave motif on it, who the heck buys that?). Even his glasses are pretentious and yet he looks like he was born for the academia, despite those tattoos on his face.

When Madara saunters past him like he is happy to see him, Tobirama sniffles at the poor attempt at antagonisation. He is amused by Madara's claims, though that does not stop him from being an ass about it. He is not supposed to be amused.

"I did and that is precisely why I am here. I have no wish to buy myself a piece of paper - no need for it if I am able to earn it by my own merit," Tobirama's eye twitches at how stupid he sounds, talking like an old man from a historical series that no one even watches anymore. As an afterthought, as if he owed Madara an actual honest reply, he adds:

"It is close. I want to stay near Hashirama and the family. Not to mention it offers good education, but none of that explains why you are showing your Piccaso-esque mug around here. What, did your precious daddy cut you off?"

If he didn't say anything snarky, one would have thought Tobirama's had a change of heart over the summer break. Unfortunately for those around him, that is not so. The real reason is him not being able to function yet. His cup is still full and his fingers are simultaneously itching to grab it as they are itching to grab Madara by the neck. Really, it all boils down to quick decisions and Tobirama's morning psychosis is begging him to snap and snap Madara's neck too on the way.

He chooses to glare at the man over the rim of his glasses instead.

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#rp #modern au #for science #senju tobirama #uchiha madara #madatobi #tobimada #probably-drunk-madara #fight me in the tags before you fight me at Denny's

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theroyalweisme · 6 years

Text

Duties of a Prince - Chapter 9 - Leo x Liam x MC

A little AU of what would have happened at Leo’s fling before the social season to determine his bride kicks off.

Rating: For mature audiences… language and themes as the story continues.

A/N - Duties may or may not (depending on how quickly I can get more written) be on a slight hiatus... At the minimum, there will be a chapter up next Saturday.

(A RoE and TRR Crossover)

Summary:

Two brothers who couldn’t be more different if they tried. One out to be the life of the party. The other understanding both of they’re roles and determined to fulfill them all. But what happens when they fall for the same girl?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Tagging: @youwontlikewherewewillgo @captainkingliam @chrstbll @pens-girl-87 @mfackenthal @xxrainbowprincessxx @queencatherynerhys @syltti78 @boneandfur @ranishajay @decisso @blackcatkita @trianiasti @bobasheebaby @pbchoicesobsessed @madaraism

The world around her was too hot as she blinked her eyes open. The colours were wrong for her bedroom. Too many soft pastels and ornate gold accents everywhere. A strong arm draped around her waist causing a soft smile to play on her lips. Liam.

Slowly she moved to slide out of the bed, trying not to jostle the figure beside her, resting the arm on the bed where she was lying before. She snagged his starch white button down shirt off the floor and pulled her arms through the overly long sleeves, pausing as the sleeping man snuggled deeper into the plush bedding.

Sabrina smiled softly, chewing on her lower lip as she finished fastening the buttons on the shirt and headed out in search of coffee and food.

“Ahhh… the princess emerges from the confines of her capture.” Leo’s voice called from the kitchen table as he flipped a page of the newspaper in his hands.

“Is it really capture if I was enjoying it?” Her lips curled into a soft smile, memories of the previous night bringing heat to her cheeks.

“I don’t want to know, Beautiful…” Leo groaned, dropping the paper to cover his ears.

“I’m not the kind of girl to kiss and tell, Pretty Boy. Your virgin ears are safe.” She laughed, sliding a coffee mug under the machine and starting the brewing process. She pulled the full mug out from under the machine, breathing in the delicious smell of freshly brewed coffee.

Leo watched her over the newspaper as the blond brought the mug to her pretty soft pink lips. His throat cleared as he went back to focusing on page 6 of the paper. Trying to ignore the content sigh exiting the gorgeous woman’s lips as he read the same line in the same article for the ninth time. His traitorous eyes continued to glance up at the woman who seemed to have taken up real estate across the table from him. Her bare leg curled up into her chest, her coffee mug perched on the top of her knee. Those same traitorous eyes traveled across her bare skin and up her arms, draped by his younger brother’s shirt. Of course, she had to pick Liam. His mind seethed as his gaze paused on her long, lean neck, working as she took a long drink of her coffee. His mind filled with the thought of his lips against her delicate skin, sucking at the spot that her neck met her jaw, or that sensitive skin just below her ear, or the swell of her breasts peeking through the open neck of the dress shirt.

“Mind passing me World News?” Her voice cut through his salacious thoughts. Shifting surreptitiously, he cleared his throat passing the requested section to her.

The pair sat in comfortable silence, Sabrina focused deeply on the paper in front of her, Leo stealing small glances at the woman across from him. A heavy sigh accidentally escaped his lips as a pair of arms snaked their way around her.

“Good morning,” Liam’s voice, still husky from sleep, filled the dining room as he placed a soft kiss on the side of Sabrina’s neck, just below her ear. Damn him… Leo thought, trying to pull himself back to the article in front of him.

“Morning,” she smiled back at him, leaning in for a quick kiss. “How’d you sleep?”

“Best sleep in a long time,” he whispered against her lips. “Must have had something to do with the beautiful woman sleeping next to me.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” she grinned, his arms tightening around her.

“Well!” Leo’s voice broke through the couple’s reverie, their eyes shifting to the other brother. “I don’t know about you love birds, but I’m starving.”

“Food would be good,” Sabrina grinned. “Pancakes maybe?”

A shared smile passed between the couple across from him, making him contain a heavy eye roll.

“Sound delicious,” Liam grinned into the side of her neck. “You smell good enough to eat… Maybe I’ll just have you for breakfast.”

Sabrina’s laughter felt like a punch to Leo’s gut as she playfully gave the younger man’s arm a swat. Having enough of their playful banter, Leo pushed his chair away from the table.

“Ok… Well… the restaurant downstairs is holding a table for me. I’ll catch you two later. Dinner tonight, Liam?” Liam’s eyebrows knit together in confusion at his brother. “It is our last night after all.”

“Of course, Leo,” Liam’s voice carried a hidden note of annoyance at his brother for tipping his hand with Sabrina. “I’ll make sure Drake and Bertrand are available.”

Leo nodded curtly at the duo before making his hasty exit, the door closing loudly behind him.

“You’re going home tomorrow?” Her face fell momentarily before she placed a winning smile on her lips. But Liam could see the smile no longer reached her eyes.

“Unfortunately, we have to,” he brushed the blond curls from her forehead. “Leo’s social season starts shortly and I have obligations that have been neglected.”

“I get it…” her smile faltered as his thumb traced her cheekbone. “Hey, it was fun while it lasted, right?”

Her shoulders shrugged softly, his heart aching at the sadness in her eyes.

“Well... you could always join us...” his suggestion was tentative at best. His deep blue eyes hopeful as he watched her ice blue ones for a reaction.

“As much as I’d love to, my Mickey Blue Eyes... I have a life here,” her palm rested gently on his stubble covered cheek. “A job I tolerate... friends... a pitty that needs me... a dad I barely talk to.”

He chuckled softly, nuzzling into her palm.

“I can’t imagine leaving you here, Sabrina,” his voice barely above a whisper as he planted a soft kiss on her palm. “Please, consider it?”

“I can’t, Liam... my life is here.” A tear escaped her eye, caught by his thumb before it fell from her chin. “I’m sorry...”

He cleared his throat roughly, pulling away from pretty blond made even prettier by wearing his shirt.

“I know...” he sighed. “We should get you back... you work tonight right?”

“Yup,” she smiled, pulling her fingers under her eyes to rid herself of any remaining tears. “And Killer will be looking for her morning walk. Gimme two minutes... I’ll just change quickly.”

Putting on a brave face she hopped off of the chair, planted a soft kiss on his full, ripe lips and disappeared into the bedroom.

Fuck... his mind wandered to the woman on the other side of the closed door. He had to fucking go there. He had to force my fucking hand.

What was he going to do? There was no way he could let this woman go now.

—

The lighter flicked on in front of the cigarette sitting between his lips. Cold blue eyes stared out from the hardened face at the nervous young man in front of him.

“You were supposed to protect her, Joshua,” the gravelly voice broke the silence of the room as the young man shifted uncomfortably. “And yet she appeared with an injury.”

“It’s not my fault, boss, honestly!” Josh pleaded, leaning towards the intimating figure behind the large oak desk. The man held his hand up to silence the weak attempt at an apology.

“My daughter has a strong will, I’m aware.” His eyes grew even colder as he watched his employee closely. “I chose you for your relationship with her. You were her friend, Joshua. She trusted you once. I need to know I can trust you with her.”

“You can, boss! You know you can,” Josh’s head nodded emphatically at his statement. “She’s working tonight... it’s Saturday... I’ll make sure the creeps are kept in place. No one will touch her.”

“See that that’s the case,” the man nodded, taking a long drag from his cigarette as the young man stood from his chair to go. He was most of the way out of the room before the last point was driven home. “I’m being generous here, Joshua. Do not disappoint me again.”

Josh’s throat worked harshly, suddenly bone dry as he swallowed. He nodded slightly before dipping back out the door.

The man behind the desk sighed deeply, pushing the cigarette out in the ashtray in front of him before picking up the phone and dialing a number he had numerous times over the last year.

“Coilin,” the voice on the other end answered quickly. “I wasn’t expecting this call. Did things not go well with Liam?”

“No, Constantine, the meeting with your son was fine,” Coilin pushed back in his chair, turning to look out of the window at the harbour. “However, we seem to have an issue beginning on our hands. Your son and my daughter have become quite close.”

Laughter filled the line causing a scowl to form on Coilin’s mouth.

“Leo has always had a way with women, Coilin,” Constantine chuckled, brushing off the other man’s concern. “He’ll do what’s expected of him when he comes home.”

“I’d have less issues if the culprit were Leo, Constantine,” Coilin’s voice bit through the line. “It’s your younger boy. Liam. This is not working within my plans for her.”

“Coilin, you worry too much. The boys are coming home tomorrow,” Constantine’s reassurance did little to reassure the Irishman. “Liam will be out of her life soon enough.”

“I hope you’re right, my friend,” he sighed deeply, turning back to the ledger on his desk. “Now, shall we discuss this export tax legislation you’re trying to work around?”

“Of course, as you know the Italians are struggling with the proposed changes,” Coilin’s lips turned up in a smile as he lit a new cigarette.

“They won’t be a problem for long,” he promised as he took a long drag.

#choices stories you play #choices the royal romance #choices: stories you play fanfics #choices: the royal romance #choices: the royal romance fanfics #roe #trr #liam x mc #leo x mc #princes #brothers rys

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queencatherynerhys · 6 years

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Blast To The Past - Liam x MC Fanfic

A/N: I am so excited for this giveaway fanfic #2. This is for you, @katrina86. Thank you for the amazing idea! This is a time travel. Again, credits go to the writing prompt list from @laniquelove. This is #49: Time Travel. I decided to the Roaring Twenties because I love the Great Gatsby era. It was one of my favorite books that I read in high school. Besides who doesn’t love Leonardo DiCaprio? Hope you love it. I did a lot of research for this, so I’m sorry for the delayed post, @katrina86. I also provided lingo dictionary so you don’t get confused with the language.

Summary: What happens when Liam sees a falling star and makes a wish?

Tag List: @captainkingliam @decisso @devineinterventions2 @madaraism @theroyalweisme @drakewalkerwhipped @laniquelove @drakesfiance @hhiggs @hellospunkiebrewster @alicars @mrswalkerreynolds @mfackenthal @simplyaiden-blog @hopefulmoonobject @blackcatkita @cocomaxley @boneandfur @lizeboredom @crayziimaginations @umccall71 @zarina-x-zig @trianiasti @ranishajay @heatherfilliez @flyawayblue56 (using my normal tag)

“Quilt” – a drink that warms the drinker

“Phonus Balonus” – Nonsense!

“Dumb Dora” – an unintelligent woman

“Bubs” – boobs

“Dead soldier” – an empty drink

“Ankle on” – to walk

“Reuben” – a hick or redneck

“Half-seas over” – shitfaced

“Choice bit of calico” – a desirable woman

“Let’s blouse” – we’re out of here

Liam stands on the balcony of his room, watching the clear, night sky. The stars gleam brightly against the dark background. He just finished packing for his weekend trip to New York City. His friends insisted that they have a proper bachelors party before he is thrown into the ordeal of the social season. He has never been to New York before, so before heading to his quarters he made a stop at the palace library.

He loved that place. It’s one of the few places he can feel close to his mother. She insisted that they fill the bookshelves with all kinds of books and novels. He searched for a book and found one titled “The Historical Atlas of New York City” written by Eric Homberger. As he sat in his balcony, he sifted through the content and pictures of the treasure trove in his hands. He was awed at the wonderful changes the Empire City has seen through every era. He particularly loved the 1920s, or the Roaring Twenties as it was dubbed. He admired the frilly dresses of the women and the vintage attire that the men sported.

Fatigue and anticipation starts to take its toll on him and he gets up to get ready to catch some sleep before leaving early tomorrow morning. A glow in the distant midnight sky catches his eyes. “Wow,” he admires as he watches a star fall from the sky. It was beautiful and serene. He heard that you could make a wish when you see a falling star. He thinks for a moment at the silliness of the idea but decides to make a wish. He remembers the picture of the women and men from the twenties and how they just looked content. He envies that. He wants freedom and some escape from his inevitable path to the throne.

He closes his eyes as he whispers his desire, “I wish to have freedom, even just for a small sliver of time. I wish to experience the same contentment that the people in the 1920s experienced.” He sighs deeply as he released yearning to the universe.

It doesn’t take him long to fall asleep once his body touches the soft comfort of his king-sized mattress. He descends into a deep sleep, something that was new to him since he usually slept light. Morning comes sooner than usual, and Liam stirs awake. He feels his sheet and notice the difference. It’s not as smooth and soft as his normal ones. Maybe I am just tired. He sits up and rubs the blur away from his eyes.

The sight before him clears and he stands abruptly. What the hell? He is not in his room. The bedroom he is in small and mediocre. The walls are painted with an off-white color. An awful blue curtain with paisley patterns drapes the windows. The full-sized bed sits against the wall with a wooden drawer is situated across it. It’s a small space, such a contrast from his royal quarters. This is a prank. It’s an elaborate prank that the guys are playing on me. They spiked me with something and transported me here as part of their bachelor’s party. Isn’t that a tradition?

He goes to the room’s closet to find his luggage, so he can change to a more casual outfit than his pajamas. He opens the dark space, searching for the light switch and flips it on. WHAT THE HELL? Where the hell am I? How the hell did they have time to do this? He is met with a tiny walk in closet, full of clothes and accessories. His luggage is nowhere to be found and he is growing more frustrated and puzzled by the second.

He cautiously walks in to the closet, eyeing the garments in front of him. His bewilderment increases when he realizes that none of the clothes are his and they seem to be from a different era. Seeing that he couldn’t seem to spot his suitcase anywhere and he really wants to be out of his sleepwear he puts on a pair of gray slacks pairing it with a white button-down shirt and a black sweatshirt jacket. He completes his attire with a blue casual bow tie and black wingtip shoes. He glances in the mirror hanging in the back of the door and taken aback at his choice of wardrobe. He already feels embarrassed by the silliness of his clothing. They are so going to feel the wrath of my revenge. I will have payback. This elaborate prank of theirs will come to bite them in the long road. I swear it.

He shakes his head as he steps out of the tiny space and out in the room. He searches for his phone to call his friends, but he can’t seem to find it anywhere. They must have taken it last night along with my bags. He gives up on finding it and step out of the bedroom. The rest of the small apartment adorned the same painted walls and blue curtains. How in the world did they find this place? Is this a themed party?

“Drake? Maxwell? Tariq? Where in the world are you guys?” he shouts hoping his friends would turn up, but nothing and no one replied. He decides to step out of the building and out onto the street. Just when he thought the surprise has ended. The view in front of him intensified the confusion. His eyes widened as he takes in the sight. This isn’t a prank. He is somewhere else. Some-WHEN else.

Crowds of people bustle about everywhere, on the sidewalk and on the streets. They all don the same type of clothing. Women style dresses of all colors with feathered hats. Men are wearing a variety of sweater coats, suede jackets, and pairs it with dress pants and hats. Liam blends right into the crowd. He feels light headed from the shock and he sit on the cement steps of the building he came out of. He couldn’t believe his eyes. He is mind cannot process this information. It isn’t possible. He is dreaming right now, and he needs to wake up. He slaps and pinches himself hoping to wake from this very inexplicable dream.

A newspaper dispenser catches the corner of his eye and practically runs to it. He takes one to and searches the top for the date. It reads May 26, 1925. Nineteen twenty…what the hell is happening? How the hell is this possible? He recalls the night before with the balcony and the drink, reading the book, then…the falling star. He remembers making the wish. It brought me to the 1920s?! The reality of it all finally hits him, and he looks around him with newfound awe and…excitement. This is the freedom he’s always wanted. No royal guards following his every move. For the first time in twenty-five years he is granted liberty to just be him.

He blends among the crowded walkways and explores the treasures of the roaring twenties has to offer. The first stop on his adventure is a hat store called Worth & Worth. His curiosity peaks as he sees the many different styles and hues of headwear on the shelves. All the men from this time are sporting one I might as well blend in. Fortunately, there is a wallet in one of his pocket pants to buy a hat. He picks a 1920s fedora-style white hat with a black trim going around. He loves the sophisticated quality of the apparel, yet it still has its casual touch.

His explorations consume the day. He went through different stores admiring all the different styles and cultures. He stopped at multiple restaurants tasting the variety of lifestyles through the versatile foods. He was awed at the many arts displayed in The Met. But what rendered him breathless was the sight of the Lady Liberty herself. The radiance of the afternoon sunlight casts an ethereal sense to her features. She was more beautiful than in the pictures. She truly did emit freedom.

He stays there for a few more minutes watching the sun set on the horizon before finding his way back towards his place. On the travel back, a building across the street calls out to him, luring him with its big block letters. The Cotton Club, it reads in neon lights. What an intriguing place. I wonder what type of club it is.

He decides to head back to his place and change before heading to the mysterious club. He changes into a classy white suit, pairing it with a brown vest, blue dress shirt and a yellow tie. His pocket square matches his vest. He feels a little out there, but he didn’t care. His adventures push him to be out of his comfort zone.

He does a 360 turn over in front of the mirror feeling satisfied with his ensemble. He puts on a pair of black oxford shoes with white trimming and the hat he purchased earlier from the day and heads out to the captivating club. He encounters a burly man by the entrance. He exchanges looks with him. The guard looks him up and down and again and then steps aside to let him in.

He is surprised to learn that it wasn’t a club after all. It is a speakeasy with an entertainment show. Booths and table crowd the space with waitresses dressed as flappers running about serving shady looking men. The room is fogged with smoke from cigarettes. Jazz music plays from the band in front of the small, makeshift dance floor.

He finds an empty half-moon shaped booth near the middle, past the shifty men who eyes him as he walks by. He settles in the plush burgundy vinyl seat for a few more minutes before a waitress dressed in an indigo flapper dress walks to him. The intricacy of her outfit is no match for the beauty that she is.

Her brown hair is placed on top of her head in a beautiful updo. Elegant pearls hug her neck and hang from her ears, but it only accentuates her natural exquisiteness. She has fair skin and narrow brown eyes. Her lips are painted red emphasizing the shape of it. And here I thought nothing could top the Statue of Liberty.

“Evening, sugar, I’m Ryne. What can I get you started with tonight?” she breaks him out of his daze. “Oh, hello, I’m Liam. I guess I’ll just have a glass of whiskey. Neat,” he orders still feeling the effects of the spell of her beauty. She squints her eyes suspiciously at him before walking away to fetch his beverage.

A few minutes later, she comes back with his drink, “One neat whiskey for the gentleman.” He thanks and watches her walk away. She gets a few steps in before turning back around and takes a seat in his booth.

“You’re not from here are ya,” she asks, peaking curiosity on her voice. “No. I am not. How did you know?”

“Well, most here are regulars,” her thick, sultry New York accent hypnotizes him. “Careful with the quilt. The prohibition’s made all the drinks strong. It’ll definitely keep ya warm.” His face must’ve registered confusion because she rephrases her sentence, “Watch out for the whiskey. It has a strong kick. Wouldn’t want ya passin’ out, sweetheart. You’re not from here, are ya?”

He hesitates before answering, “No, I am not. I guess it’s pretty noticeable.” He brings the tumbler of amber drink to his lips and takes a sip. He coughs as soon as the content travelled down his throat. She’s right. This does have a kick. Drake would love it.

“Well…where do you hail from then?” she leans in as she asks. He whiffs a scent of jasmine from her perfume and falls deeper into her gorgeous spell. He inches closer to her, as if she’s luring him into her reach. “I’m afraid I really can’t answer that question, Ms. Ryne,” he apologizes.

“Phonus balonus! Now, don’t be a wet blanket. I’m serving you. Least you can do is answer my question,” she protests. He thinks how to best satisfy her inquiry, “I am from somewhere far away, to keep it simple.”

“Visitor, I see? I can tell by the accent. Well, I guess I won’t push ya to tell me,” she flashes a brilliant smile. Before she gets another chance to ask him a question, a man in a beside them hollers for her, “Dumb Dora, bring your bubs and the rest of yourself over here! I have a dead soldier!”

“Well, I guess I better ankle on up there and deal with that Reuben! Nice to meet you, Liam, is it? I’ll see you ‘round, Blue Eyes,” she winks at him as she slides out of the booth back to the bar to fetch the rowdy man a refill. Liam watches Ryne as she moves about the space. He admires how her hips sway, sending all the frills of her dress in frenzy. He eavesdrops her encounter with this man.

“Here’s your refill, sugar, but I must say this is your last one. You’re looking half-seas over!” she says in a chirpy tone. “Nonsense, but I must say you’re a choice bit of calico, baby!” he slurs disgustingly at her. The banter continues for several more minutes with Ryne subtly evading the aggressive passes this man is giving her. Liam finally looks over when he hears her scream at him.

The man has her in his arms, trying to kiss her. She writhes in resistance and yells at the man making a scene in the room, “Bank’s closed, mister!” She slaps him hard on the face and pushes him off her. Liam is now standing from his spot, ready to rescue her if the rude man decides to retaliate. He doesn’t. The obvious drunk passes out on his booth.

Ryne fixes herself before striding up to Liam, “Let’s blouse, Blue Eyes.” She grabs his hand leading him out the door. “Ernie, I’m done for the night,” she looks to the man handling the bar before heading out. When they get to the street and farther away from the tavern, she finally acknowledges him, “Sorry ‘bout that, Blue Eyes. I hope you were done in there, but if not, you can always go back. I can promise better company though.” Again, she puts on a sparkling smile that makes his heart skip a beat. How much did I have to drink? I am not thinking straight. I can’t do anything with this woman. She’s almost 100 years older than I am! His mind and heart struggles with the dilemma, but in the end the heart wants what it wants.

She leads him back to her place. “Make yourself at home. I’m not much of a drinker, but I can offer you water or juice,” she says as she walks to the kitchen. “I’m fine, but thank you,” he replies.

They take a seat on the lavish brown couch. “So, how long are ya in town for, Blue Eyes?” a perfectly trimmed eyebrows raised as she asks her question. “I’m not quite sure,” he truly did not know the answer. He isn’t sure if and how to get back to his own time. Or if he wanted to.

After getting through an awkward phase, the pair settles into a nice flow going from strangers to acquaintances in just a matter of several minutes. Liam finds himself comfortable around her. His guarded persona forgotten by her light, bubbly presence. They spend the night getting to know each other and asking silly questions, laughter filling the spacious living room. Liam doesn’t know the last time he’s truly been able to be himself like this, if there was a time at all.

“You ain’t like those torpedoes in the speakeasy. You’re different,” she observes. “Torpedoes?” he asks confusingly. “I’m sorry, darlin, I forget you’re not from ‘round here. Torpedoes kinda means thug. All the men in there only care about two things: drinking and feeling up the girls. So, thank you for not doing that. You don’t know how hard it is to not slap them in the face,” she clarifies the misunderstanding.

By this time, they are sitting shoulder to shoulder on the couch. Liam feels a clear fascination for her. He wants to spend the rest of the night getting to know her and every part of her. He gazes at her features from the side and perfection is as glorious as the stars in the sky. She catches him looking at her and he tries to feign it, but she smiles flirtatiously at him.

Their faces are nothing but mere inches from each other. An eerie silence blankets the room and electricity passes between them before Liam gives in. He catches her luscious lip with his own, tasting orange juice on them. He can feel her hesitation at first, but her body finds itself drawn to his warmth.

He tangles his fingers in her hair, ruining her delicate updo while his other hand roams on her thigh savoring her smooth, cool skin. She grabs him by one of his lapels pulling him in for a deeper, passionate kiss while grabbing him by the back of his neck to press him more firmly against her.

She feels his tongue brush on her bottom lip, silently asking for permission to enter her mouth. She parts them giving way to his dancing tongue as she moves to straddle his lap. His hands grip the back of her thighs bringing her closer to his body. His desire for her increases by each passing second. He pulls away for a moment to look into her eyes and asks for reassurance, “Are you sure about this?”

“Definitely, Blue Eyes. You intrigue me,” she lustfully replies. With that, Liam loses all inhibitions and they spend the night knowing each other in every level. Their love making moved from the couch to the kitchen and ending in her room.

As the night passes on, Liam holds Ryne close to his chest under the covers. Their legs are tangled, and warmth comforts them to sleep. “That was a perfect ending,” Liam whispers to her ear and kisses her hair. She hums in agreement and he feel her succumb to her sleep. Before closing his eyes, Liam glances out the window and sees another falling star. He smiles as he sinks comfortably to slumber, holding Ryne to him.

Little did he know that he was never going to see her again. He doesn’t if what happened was a figment of his imagination or if it was reality. He decides to believe the latter when he wakes up the next morning back to his current time. Back to his prison life. His heart is heavy when he gets ready to travel f

or his bachelor’s party, the last taste of “freedom”.

His friends notice his beaten demeanor and tries to coax him out of it, but to no avail. “Maxwell, let it go. He doesn’t want to hear any more of you incessant rants about rap battles or dance offs,” Drake scolds his friend. Once again, he is grateful for his best friend looking out for him. He knows him well enough to leave him alone.

All his mind can think of is Ryne and how her body felt as she moved against him. Her sweet lips and beautiful eyes. Her genuine kind personality. He sinks deeper into his sorrow, missing her. How can one-night mean so much? I don’t even know if it was real. It felt real.

They spend the short weekend getaway going through the motions of a traditional party for a bachelor. Tariq takes them to a high-end men’s fashion boutique to get new suits, something to wear during the upcoming social season. Drake grumbles in complaint through the whole ordeal and is finally relieved when it was over.

“Finally! After all that I need a drink. I’ve been looking at some dive bars near us and there’s one a couple of blocks away,” Drake leads them to car to travel to the next itinerary. Liam hasn’t been there 12 hours and he’s already tired, but he marches on for the sake of his friends. They arrive in front of the bar and one by one file out of the black tinted SUV. “You guys go on ahead. I’ll follow along shortly. I’ll help find parking for the car,” Liam says from the car. They knew better than to push it, so they let him drive off. Truly, he just wants a moment to collect his thoughts. Try as he might he can’t get Ryne’s face out of his mind. It’s as if it’s permanently branded in his memories, a fond yet bittersweet memory.

He walks the short block with his guard following close behind. He enjoys the crisp night air. He misses the neon lights of the twenties and the eccentric attire of the crowd. He misses the unlimited freedom he felt during that short span of time. He opens the door to the dive bar Drake found and finds them already seated with a young woman in front taking their orders.

“Four?” she asks Drake and he nods towards his direction. When he sees her face, all the hope he thought was lost comes rushing back like a tidal wave. Shock hits him but he quickly hides it, masking it with genuine interest. Standing in front of him is a young woman with the same exact features as Ryne, right down to the smile.

For the first time since he woke up alone back to his own timeline, he feels genuinely happy. He flashes his princely smile, his eyes once again housing hope. “Sorry I’m late. Thank you for your patience, Miss…” he greets the beautiful woman in front of him. It takes her a moment to collect her senses, “Uh, Catheryne.”

The rest of the night passes by with Liam feeling happy and content. He invites Catheryne to accompany them for the rest of the night. She takes them to a private cove overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. While seating by the bonfire, Liam asks her a question that’s been on his mind since he saw her, “Your name? Is it from a relative? I’m just curious?”

“Oh! Yeah, my mother named me after my grandmother. She said I look just look like her,” she answers simply. She is right about that. She looks exactly like her. Liam finds himself already falling for Catheryne. He knows even if he tried to stop it that it wouldn’t do any good. Catheryne is captivating, just like her predecessor.

Liam thanks the deities for bringing him to that time and leading him to her. Sometimes, the universe aligns the stars on your favor.

#choices #playchoices #choices the royal romance #choices trr #trr #trr liam #liam #liam rys #liam royal romance #liam x mc #catheryne #time travel

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thetoxicstrawberry · 7 years

Text

@madakaka

Summary: An alternate universe in which Madara survives the war and spends his days flirting with irritating the Hokage.

The Price of Atonement

Ch. 1: Limbo

Ch. 2: The Losing End

Ch. 3: Minor Adjustments

Kakashi heard Madara’s voice before he saw him. He was half-way across the store, where he leisurely perused the pet aisle, when the rumbling sound of vexation caused his shoulders to instantly tighten. He was sure they heard the damnable man all the way back in the meat department.

He thought for a moment about leaving his shopping cart and sneaking out the door, but instead ducked behind a neatly stacked display of boxed pastries and watched the man haggle with the cashier.

“22 ryō? For eggs? I’ll only give you 14 and I know they aren’t even worth that much,” Madara snapped.

From where he stood, Kakashi could see that the cashier was shaken. All the other customers had vacated her line, probably to wait for the crazy Uchiha to complete his purchase and leave.

“I’m…I’m sorry sir. I can’t…”

“You drive a hard bargain,” Madara said and pointed at the young woman. “16 ryō, but you won’t get a penny more from me.”

Kakashi knew he should stop this. He was the Hokage after all, and Madara, with all his eccentricities, was his responsibility. A responsibility that was supposed to be at least partially delegated out.

Where was Sasuke anyway?

Kakashi sighed and cursed inwardly for ever letting them both out of prison to being with, before he slid up from behind and threw a couple of coins on the counter.

“What do you think you are doing?” Madara turned toward him, his gaze sharp and intense.

“Ah, Madara, I didn’t realize it was you,” Kakashi said evenly. “It’s usually old women that get this worked up over prices.”

“This doesn’t concern you.”

“I mean,” Kakashi continued. “You do look the same from behind.”

“Don’t you have some place to be, Hokage,” Madara spat the last word.

Kakashi turned to the cashier and flashed her a quick eye smile. “My apologies for my friend here…”

“We’re not friends.”

“He spent a lot of time in hell, so his people skills are lacking.”

The cashier quickly gathered the money and processed the transaction. Kakashi took the bag containing Madara’s purchases and began to lead him out of the store as he blustered.

“Are you following me now? Is the brat not enough company for me? I’ll have you know that woman is a thief,” Madara grumbled. “But I’m sure you don’t care about those things. Stealing bloodline limits that don’t belong to you.”

Kakashi’s steps paused only for a moment, a soft laugh rumbled in his chest.

“I’m not the only one that likes to steal eyes, remember?” He pointed to the left side of his face. He watched as Madara’s own eyes traced the curve of the scar that bisected his brow and trailed under his mask. “If I remember correctly, you yanked mine right out of the socket.”

“It didn’t belong to you,” Madara said and lifted his chin defiantly.

“It didn’t belong to you either.”

Madara’s face twitched.

“What kind of person snatches another man’s eye right in the middle of battle?” Kakashi asked.

“A winner, that’s who.”

“But Dara-chan,” Kakashi said and lifted one eyebrow. “You didn’t win.”

A deep growl escaped Madara’s lips, but he didn’t reply. His footsteps took on a heavier sound, as they walked side by side. They continued in silence for about a block before Kakashi brushed a glance in the other man’s direction. Madara’s expression remained blank, as he stubbornly looked ahead to ignore the gaze of his companion.

Kakashi wondered if he had taken it too far. He liked to poke at Madara. Bantering with him had become an interesting game and often broke the monotony of his day. He loathed to admit that he was beginning to look forward to their encounters. Kakashi wasn’t built for desk duty and being around Madara allowed for him to drop the formality to engage in verbal duels of wit.

Kakashi also simply liked irritating him, but not in a malicious way. He knew just the right buttons to push and enjoyed watching the man prickle like a flustered kitten.

Madara had been all mouth when he’d first arrived back in Konoha and he gave the prison guards such a tongue lashing that they had to be rotated out. Sasuke had pleaded to either be moved or executed, anything to get away from his contemptuous predecessor. But when the weeks turned to months and suddenly Madara was alone, the talking stopped. Then the eating.

Every few weeks, Sakura would come down to check on him and monitor his condition, even though the obstinate man kept refusing any sort of medical treatment for his ailments, and it was then that she noticed something was amiss.

“I know what he’s done,” she had told Kakashi. “But if we leave him the way he is…”

“He’s going to die,” Kakashi finished her sentence.

“Yes.”

The truth was, Madara deserved to die and some dark part of Kakashi had burned with the desire to let him. There was no way for him to make reparations for what he had done. Not for the war or the heavy death toll that came with it. And not for Obito.

Obito. His name still pulled at Kakashi’s insides. It was Madara who had tainted his friend’s mind and manipulated him to carry out his wicked dream.

But what if it had been Obito that had lived and not Madara, Kakashi wondered? If it were Obito confined to life imprisonment, left to wither away from guilt and self-hatred? Kakashi knew he would want him to have a chance at atonement, a way back into the light. He knew it was his own bias that kept him from helping the reckless Founder and that ate at him.

It was then that Kakashi decided that he was going to release him. Against the wishes of the elders, his advisors, and even his friends. The only one that stood by his decision was Naruto, who was all bright-eyed enthusiasm at the prospect of Madara rejoining society.

The bag of groceries rustled as Kakashi shifted it into his other arm. They had arrived at Madara’s house. A little yellow one story, with dark navy shutters, and a low metal fence that squared off the edges of the property.

Kakashi followed him through the gate and up the walk. When they stopped at the front door, the Hokage finally broke the silence, “Madara, I…”

“Do you really think we’re friends?” Madara interrupted, his focus down on the key ring as he fumbled with it. The tone in his voice sounded inquisitive and lacked his usual challenge.

Kakashi blinked at him, slightly stunned.

“Never mind,” Madara snapped and jiggled his keys harshly as he pushed them into the lock. “I just don’t want you misinterpreting my actions. Thinking you mean more to me than you do. That’s all.”

“Don’t worry,” Kakashi’s face relaxed and he gave the other man a quick pat on the back. “I never forget that you’d kill me if given half a chance.”

Madara pushed the door open with a grumble and the Rokudaime followed him inside. Kakashi hadn’t been to Madara’s house since he’d picked it out for him. It had been empty then and he had delegated the task of furnishing it to Shizune.

The floor plan was open, making the main living space feel wide and airy. From where he stood, Kakashi could see her touches in the decorating. The matching gray couch and loveseat, a rustic looking credenza, and impressionistic paintings of scenic landscapes. It was charming.

On top of Shizune’s work was a randomness that could only be Madara’s additions. Cheap bargain store knickknacks, a stack of old newspapers, and candles. So many candles. The scents varied and bore in with such intensity that Kakashi’s eyes watered and he cursed his acute sense of smell.

He set the bag on a cluttered kitchen table. Madara came up alongside him and started putting away his purchases.

“Madara,” Kakashi asked, looking around his kitchen. “Where are all your appliances?”

“Hmm, oh, you mean those metal monstrosities? I burned them in the backyard,” Madara said it with a degree of nonchalance that Kakashi was left bewildered.

“You burned them?”

“Yes.”

“In your backyard?”

“Of course,” Madara said. “Where else would I have burned them?”

Kakashi moved to the back door, his jaw still slack in shock, and peered out. Sure enough, the burned-out husks of his appliances were pushed to the far side of his yard.

He turned on him, hands in the air. “Those where brand new! Why would you burn them?”

Madara shrugged and said, “I had no use for any of it and there was no other way of disposing of them.”

“You could have told me to remove them. You didn’t have to destroy them.”

“I kept the cooling one. I like that one,” Madara said and gestured towards the refrigerator. “I don’t know why it ruffles your feathers so bad. We didn’t have dishwashers in my day. It was simply taking up space.”

“But you didn’t put anything in its place,” Kakashi said and motioned to the empty hole. “Do you have any idea how expensive that dishwasher was? The taxpaying citizens of Konoha paid for it too and you burned it.”

“If you want them back, you can take it. It’s crowding up my backyard anyway,” Madara said as he placed a jar of peanut butter into the cabinet and shut it.

He was smiling---an evil playful grin, Kakashi noted, and realized that Madara was savoring the opportunity to finally find something that upset him. He rubbed at his face and tried hard to get his composure under control. He took a deep breath and dropped his shoulders, but found the tension wouldn’t give and they only tightened back up again.

The village finances had taken a major hit after everything was destroyed during the Pein attack. Coupled with the dwindling missions—an unpleasant side effect of the new era of peace—there wasn’t any room to throw money away. Kakashi hoped the accounting office never found out about Madara’s little bonfire.

“Quick question,” Kakashi said, raising his head. “If you can’t mold chakra, how did you burn them?”

“Yes, that was quite the chore. I didn’t consider that until after I had drug them outside,” Madara said, tilting his head. “My current condition is one I’m still growing accustomed to. Once I had them out of the house, I realized I wasn’t going to be able to summon fire to destroy them, so I walked down to the corner market—it’s less than a mile from here-- and bought some accelerant.”

Kakashi could visualize it all in his head. Madara, hauling his large appliances out the backdoor, without the added benefit of chakra aided strength, only to realize that, in order to complete his mission, he would need to go about it the old-fashioned way. He was probably sweating, panting, and irritable by the time he made it to the market.

“I was looking for kerosene or something similar, but was told they were out. I am under the suspicion that the storekeeper was, instead, reluctant to sell me something that could be used for destructive means. So, I bought hairspray instead.”

“Hairspray?”

Madara nodded and pointed to the stack of newspapers, “I drenched the papers in the hairspray and put them inside every nook and cranny I could, before setting it ablaze with a match. I singed all the hairs off my arm.”

Well, no one can ever call him a quitter.

“Madara, what am I going to do with you? We need to channel that energy of yours into something productive,” Kakashi sighed and slipped his hands into his pockets. “I don’t want you lighting anymore fires. You don’t have the ability to extinguish it if it were to get out of control.”

“You afraid I’ll burn my house down and you’ll be forced to buy me a new one?” Madara teased.

“No,” Kakashi said. “I’m afraid you’ll hurt yourself or someone else.”

Madara rolled his eyes. “There you go again, making it sound like we’re friends. I thought we already clarified that issue.”

“You don’t have to like me, but as the Hokage, it is my job to take care of the village and everyone who lives here. And as much as you hate it, that includes you.”

Madara stared at him for a moment and something flickered briefly in his eyes, but it was gone so quick that Kakashi barely saw it.

Vulnerability.

“Hmph,” Madara’s face twisted into a snarl and he glared back at him. “We’re done. I have things to do. I would appreciate if you left me to it.”

“Alright,” Kakashi sighed. “But no more fires. I should have a job for you in a few days. I’ll send for you then.”

“Delightful.”

Madara followed him to the door and shut it hard behind him. He then quietly moved to the window and watched through a part in the curtains as Kakashi walked back the way they had come.

“Imbecile,” he growled to himself.

He then turned and padded back to the kitchen, only to find Sasuke standing in front the fridge, door open, with a carton of orange juice pressed to his lips.

Madara scowled and clenched his fist. “You might as well finish that or take it with you, because I won’t be drinking any after your dirty mouth has been on it.”

Sasuke closed the top and gently placed it back in the fridge.

“I can’t wait to see what he has you doing after you pissed him off like that,” he said and turned to face the older man.

“He’s fine,” Madara said, as he removed the carton from the fridge and dramatically threw it in the garbage. “It takes more than that to get him angry.”

“Good thing too,” Sasuke continued. “For a second there, I thought I was going to have to leave. Give you two some distance.”

“What do you mean?” Madara frowned. The look on the younger man’s face was smug, which only infuriated him more. “You can’t think that idiot would fight me for destroying a few machines.”

“Fight you? No,” Sasuke chuckled, as he pulled a chair out and took a seat.

“Whatever. Just get out of my house. I’ve already told you, I don’t like you in here.”

“You know,” said Sasuke, “I would have taught you how to use your oven and dishwasher. All you had to do was ask. Then you wouldn’t have had to destroy them.”

“That…” Madara bristled and his face flushed. “That is not why I got rid of them.”

“I can see you still have your washer and dryer. Too much trouble to burn them all in one day? They aren’t hard to work. If you don’t want me to teach you, I’m sure Kakashi would show you.”

That was it. Madara had had enough. He grabbed the back of the chair Sasuke was sitting in and begun to drag it across the kitchen.

“Madara, what are you doing?” Sasuke asked, but didn’t bother to get out of his seat.

With more effort than he would admit, Madara managed to pull Sasuke and the chair out of the house and onto the back porch.

“I told you to leave,” he said, calmer than would be expected. “Now go, before I decide to set you on fire along with the other contraptions.”

He then turned and stomped back into the house. Sasuke was still laughing when he slammed the door.

#kakashi #madara #madakaka #naruto #fanfiction #my writings

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