I did a piece of work for this one lmao all my characters are femme fatales don't judge me
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Majima was skulking back home after another day of nothing, when he noticed a familiar person on the pier. Glancing over the bridge, she was smoking, talking to the old man, Komaki. It had been twelve long months, the Lord of the Night no longer showing his face in any of the clubs 'round Sotenbori anymore. Attempting to blend in somewhat, he found himself gazing after her, unable to tear his eye away from the sight. You were still so beautiful, despite him fucking you over and Omi's terible gangsters pulling you along like a ragdoll. When Majima had his run in with Makoto Makimura a year prior, he'd never truly had a chance to thank you for the countless sacrifices you had made to save his ass. Taking a deep breath, he decided to go down there and make contact. Even if it was just to say goodbye. Walking straight over, he spun and fell back against the fence, hands in his pockets. "Hey," he murmured, leaning against the fence. You gasped at the voice, leaping backwards before getting a good look at its owner. "Omi Alliance scum-!" you spat, pulling out a knife and holding it to his throat, despite being so much shorter than him. Majima choked, staying calm and collected. "He send you after me? Huh?!" "Shit, Girl! I ain't... Nothin' like Sagawa," he fought between breaths. "He's... Dead... Sagawa's... Dead!" the man coughed, causing your eyes to blow up in shock. Softening your features, you let him go, allowing him a moment to compose himself and rub at his throat. Glancing down at your wrist, a small branding was revealed with Omi's seal, showing who you belonged to. "Y'ain't parta that no more," the mysterious man mumbled. Pointing the blade up at him again, your glare could cut diamonds. "Why should I trust you?" Sighing, he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, averting his eye. "'Cause I'm done lyin'. I'm sorry I didn't call ya. I thought ya were dead, honestly!" It was retracted. You knew he wasn't lying. To be honest, the man seemed kinda distant and bummed out. "I never saw him after you left. I did kinda wonder why Shimano didn't come after me," you admitted. Glancing at your full lips and trying to fight the urge to kiss them, he bit his tongue. Though his history with you was patchy, he'd grown deeply fond of you, in a way that probably outweighed Makoto. Plus, you could hold yourself, and you had proven that. You were in touch with how his criminal background worked and it didn't bother you. He was so intensely considering the possibility he hadn't realised he'd been staring at you. "I'm... Sorry. For runnin' and leavin' ya." Waving your arm, you shook your head. "It's fine. Your life was on the line I suppose." Gritting his teeth, he couldn't hold back any longer, he had to do it. Now. Taking a deep breath, he clutched his hand in a fist and said your name. "Y/N, I have to do somethin' before I go." Before you could reply, he leant forward and dragged you by the jaw to match his mouth. At first you couldn't help but fight the foreign feeling, but within seconds, your hands found themselves roaming over his broad, naked chest, melting onto his shoulders for dear life. His lips were soft and full, massaging yours gently before pulling away and switching position, his low voice moaning into your mouth. Until you broke the kiss, shoving him hard into the railing. "Come with me," he whispered, practically begging you. "To Kamurocho." "What?" you breathed, gobsmacked by the audacity of this man.
You still ended up sat on the damn train, finally flying your little bird cage, as Sagawa called it.
