Yakuza x Reader (Mainly Majima)

Goro Majima : My Hero

(This one is kinda based on a true story where we were asked about our heroes in high-school and mine was Ironman)

You worked as an illustrator, and Majima had been instructed from the get go, not to interrupt you if you were working. Though sometimes, he just couldn't help himself. Rapping on the door, you called him through reluctantly, rustling paper.
"Ya gotta getcha ass outta here soon, ya been here all damn day," he snapped, placing the mug on the side.
"Thank you," you replied, invested in your work. There were patterns and swatches everywhere, various comic pages stuck to boards and the walls.
"Well, ain't ya been a busy bee?" he marvelled, admiring the drying panels on the wall. Standing up straight, he peered over to read them.
"Whats yer story about?"
"It's for a book for children someone sent in," you corrected, graphite scratching on the textured paper. "It's about a blind girl running away from a syndicate somewhere else in the continent. They find her and she meets a kind stranger who helps her hide away somewhere."
Being sure to keep his face out of view so you couldn't see his grimace. What the fuck?
"Really, huh? Pfft... Why would kids wanna read about a thing like that?"
"Apparently, human trafficking of the young is still common. I think the moral of the story is that kindness doesn't cost, or you can pick your friends but not your family or something." He was silent, thinking back. "It's rather bittersweet, really. The girl ends up getting her sight back and living a happy life away from those people but the guy was nowhere to be found. She never saw him or even knew his name. I don't even know why he did it. He doesn't know her."
Swuinting at your finished drawing, the resemblance was perfect.
"This yer li'l blind girl, huh?" he asked, pointing. Despite only having a description of her, you'd really got her bang on.
"Yeah. I have no idea who sent in the story. Boss just told me to illustrate it and that's what I'm doing."
"Lotta work fer one gal."
"I'm only just sketching drafts of her kind stranger right now." Placing down your pencil, you sighed. "I have no idea what he looks like. Normally, I get a photograph or even a description - But no. They want me to make it up. I don't know where to start."
Majima shuffled back over to you, taking a seat beside you on a fold out stool. Thinking of something to say, he thought it completely uncanny how similar Makoto's story was. He began to wonder if she was even still living in Japan, if she was okay, if she ever married that doctor. Why did everything have to end up like this?
"What do you think a hero is like, Majima?"
"A... Hero?" he stuttered.
Cat got his tongue. A hero was everything he wasn't. He was never Makoto's hero. He failed to protect her several times, and she didn't even recognise him when she did get her sight back.
"Well... Uhh... Y'know. A hero is someone who's strong and... Able to protect those around them. 'N' they do what's right without question, even if it's at the expense of others..." He looked down, talking more seriously. "I think... A hero would just want the best for her, bein' dealt such a shitty hand like that. Blind and bein' chased by bad guys? Maybe, he thought he was hurtin' her more by stayin' and disappeared."
He already felt as if he'd said too much.
"Just... Thinka someone like that."
"...Robert Downey Jr!"
The feeling of relief washing over him. Thank God he wasn't your hero.
"Yeah, Babe! Ironman's always riskin' his life for that uhh... The blonde chick."
You got to work straight away.

He could have killed you when it was finished and unveiled. The hero ended up looking like Tony Stark with a fucking eye patch. He wanted to murder you, but it went down so well with the bosses at the revealing, and you were so proud, he let it go.
"Thought ya said the girl had a bad eye," he murmured, looking grumpy.
"I know, but... I thought about it and I think you're my hero."
"Ya have to be kiddin'... Ya watch those Ironman films all the time-!"
"You were my kind stranger once."
"That's... No excuse-!" he spat, flustered. Winding his arm around your head, you were pulled into the crook of his armpit to cuddle, the man kissing your scalp. "I'm proud, though. Ya worked hard."