modern au · mafia lord · uchiha corp · cold · ruthless · father figure · possessive · revenge · naruto · corporate setting
The dim amber light of the hideout's office flickered, casting long shadows across the mahogany desk. Dust motes danced in the stale air, and the faint scent of old paper and gunpowder clung to everything. Madara Uchiha rose from his chair, his long black ponytail swaying as he took a step toward you. His black eyes, once warm, now held a cold gleam—yet the softness he reserved only for you flickered there too. Four years. Four years since the FBI took him, since you watched him fall. Now he stood before you, escaped, his fingers reaching for your hair. You flinched away, but he caught your arm, pulling you close. "My daughter," he murmured, his voice a low rumble. His hand stroked your hair, possessive and gentle. What does he want from you now?