Katsuki no Monogatari [Uchiha Madara/oc]

Katsuki woke up to find herself tangled in a carefully woven mess of limbs and fabric. Madara's strong arms had her caged into his chest as one of his long legs set between her own. In her sleep, she nonchalantly perched her leg over his hip, and unknowingly grabbed the cloth of his yukata to pull him closer to herself.  

 As consciousness embraced her, so did a wave of shyness and embarrassment, casting a rosy hue upon her demeanor. The timidity in her gaze reflected a newfound vulnerability, a hesitancy rooted in the intimacy of the shared space. Tangled in sheets and emotions, she navigated the delicate art of untangling herself without disturbing the peace that lingered in the room, but her companion refused to be separated, and tightened his grip instead. The rosiness of her cheeks intensified, as he grumbled in his sleep, further cuddling into her. 

"Madara-sama." She squeaked, gently poking his cheek, but instead of waking up, he simply rolled over, taking her with him. Dejected and defeated, she simply closed her eyes once more and allowed herself to succumb to sleep.

The brain is a powerful thing. The nagging feeling of being stared at forced Katsuki to snap awake; her eyes wide, and a light gasp left her chapped lips. The first thing to enter her field of vision were Madara's eyes, staring back at her with the same flustered expression. His entire face from the neck up was beet red, and Katsuki's soon followed, mirroring the color of his pale skin.

Neither moved an inch; limbs were still intertwined and tangled together. It took a few seconds for their brains to finally regain function and snap into motion. Both teens flailed helplessly, trying to let themselves loose from the mess of cloth; they looked more like a pair of fish out of water than a married couple. With each attempt at graceful liberation, their predicament seemed to worsen, with the fabric conspiring to bind them closer. Their faces wore a charming mix of chagrin and amusement, their eyes meeting in moments of shared embarrassment.

Their movements came to a sudden halt when the bedroom door snapped open. Standing on the doorway was a maid, motionless and staring at the scene before her. The heads of both teens comically snapped towards her, blushing even more. To any outsider, the scene was typical of any married couple: Katsuki was sprawled on the ground with her legs kicked up in the air, trying to pull the sheets off of her, while one of Madara's feet was flat on the hardwood and the other was tangled in the same sheet Katsuki's hands tried to free her own leg from. It was truly a peculiar scene.

The door slammed closed, and the maid yelled apologies, explaining that she had been worried by the sounds coming from the room and that she would've never imagined the young master to be home and promising to do away with the master key.

Neither half of the couple could produce the words to let the woman know that she had it all wrong.

"Stop!" Madara snapped, causing Katsuki's movements to immediately halt. "If we continue to run around like headless chickens, we're never going to get out of this."

Calmly, he freed both of them from the silk cloths, crawling away from the tatami matt with a sigh. He was still red-faced and humiliated, but at least he wasn't practically straddling the girl anymore. He peaked at Katsuki, only to find her staring at her hands with a small smile. Her long hair looked dovetail, and all the blood in her body seemed to be stored in her face, but she still looked oddly pleased.

"Madara-sama, will you sleep with me every night from now on?"

Sometimes, his wife seemed to have no shame.

"Wha-what?!" Madara exclaimed, frowning deeply, almost comically. "Are you crazy?! Do you not remember last time?!"

"Eh?! What are you even talking about?!" Katsuki yelled back, covering her face with a pillow.

"Oh."

"Pervert!" Madara could've easily dodged that pillow, but he deserved it, and he would willingly accept it.

Living in that big house by herself was what Katsuki imagined to be the epitome of boredom.

She had the maids, and she could try to speak to them, but they were all new and still scared of the young lady, having heard rumors of her being just as scary as the young master, so speaking to them freely was almost impossible, so she was, once again, stuck in a repetition of hobbies and solo conversations, and her newest interest was imagining fake scenes that included Madara and herself.

She had prayed to the gods many times to send her a friend, a girl her age to bond and gossip with, and possibly tell her all about her cute husband.

But she didn't expect her prayers to be answered this way.

As she finally stood face-to-face with her rival, the air crackled with tension. The mask of composure she wore threatened to shatter, revealing the smoldering fury beneath. She took in the woman's appearance, and it was obvious that she was older than her; her body was more developed, and her face looked much more mature. Her white hair was short and choppy, and her eyes held a tenacity that Katsuki's lacked. Her presence was overwhelming, but Katsuki was married to Uchiha Madara, and she would not allow some foreigner to force her to cower, so she tried to feign determination, hiding her true, soft nature behind a mask of fake relentlessness.

She hated the way the woman looked down on her, literally and figuratively. Being almost a head shorter than her husband was endearing, but with this woman, she felt like prey being watched by their predator.

"Hello, Katsuki-chan."

"Please refer to me with more respect; we are but strangers."

"Oh-ho-ho, I was told you were a cute little mouse; guess they were wrong." The woman teased, not looking at her but into the house. Without a second thought, she pushed past the owner and into the house, not bothering to take off her muddy shoes.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she stared at the footstep she left behind, dirtying the pristine house—the house she made sure was impeccable for her husband, who openly disliked filt. The woman ignored the smaller girl and stepped into the foyer. She looked around with a smirk, taking in the expensive decor and the painting of the couple hanging on one of the walls.

"Cute," she mused, but it was clear that she was close to laughing. "Mada-chan is much more flexible, but I guess it has to do with his upbringing."

Mada...chan?

Katsuki was at her wits end; the Madara she knew was not flexible, caring yes, but never flexible, and why did she even think she could call her husband by such a ridiculous nickname?

Her footsteps echoed with purposeful intensity as she strode towards the woman; each step was laden with the weight of her emotions. Her eyes, usually warm and inviting, now sparked with an icy determination, mirroring the storm brewing within.

"I would appreciate it if you would refrain from calling my husband Mada-chan. You are awfully disrespectful, Misses, and I will not tolerate such impolitness."

Booming laughter echoed within the home, causing Katsuki to take a step back. Her eyes darted around in uncertainty, confused at the woman's outburst.

"You really are something else. Are you jealous?" She teased, taking big steps towards her, causing the smaller girl to step back. "You know, jealousy stems from insecurity; are you unsure of Madara's feelings, Kacchan? Do you doubt yourself? Are you scared he might like me?"

The previous security Madara had given her was swept away in an instant. Questions raced in her mind, and the woman's words wrapped around her neck like a snake stiffling its prey, sinking its fangs into her neck, and filling her with poison.

"I would suggest you leave, young lady." The head maid cut off their little conversation, noticing Katsui's apparent discomfort. "The future first lady of the clan must be healthy; it is unwise to expose her to the foreign illnesses you may be carrying."

The woman chuckled and lifted her arms as a sign of surrender, showing herself out the door.

"Young lady!" the maid ran to her side, embracing the weakened Katsuki, noticing the tears that threatened to spill from her already puffy eyes. "Please don't go opening the door for strangers by yourself."