Yakuza x Reader (Mainly Majima)

Goro Majima : History Repeats Itself

Shivering in your coat, you saw the back of your boyfriend in the foyer of the office you worked at. He was shuddering, clenching himself tight.
"I didn't expect to see you!" you beamed, throwing your arms round his middle. It was like hugging a hunk of ice. "Goro, you're literally freezing," you gasped, rubbing his firm chest with your gloved hands. "Why didn't you wear a coat?!"
Unraveling your scarf from your neck, he bent over a little so you could wrap it round his neck, grateful for the extra layer on his frigid form.
"It ain't that c-cold," he stammered through a cough. Clearing his throat, he continued. "I can handle a- A bitta ch-chill."
There was a short pause, the man obviously trying to gauge his surroundings.
"Babe, I just gotta... S-sit down a s-sec," he mumbled, stumbling a little before dropping on his ass.
"Oh my God, you're literally freezing," you panicked, wrapping your oversized, thick scarf tighter around him. Majima's skin was pale on his face, sunken eyes demanding some sleep.
"Babe, 'm fine," he lied, voice strained and quiet. In the midst of your dread, a hot drink had been made for your limp, lethargic, lover by the kind receptionist, ready to offer when he came round a little. A portable heater was turned towards him too, in order to gently heat him back up, whilst another person was getting medical advice to avoid stressing you out. Eventually, your body heat coupled with the warmth of the machine brought him back a little, body parts becoming a bit more lithe.
"Drink this," you ordered, handing him the hot drink. "Your lips are still blue." He was appreciative, supping up the healing nectar from the white mug.
"I think I'm fine, Babe."
"Listen Majicicle, you might not even make it home dressed like that. You're going to be the death of me."
Luckily, he escaped with a terrible cold, but you would never forget that day for as long as you both lived.

There hadn't been a winter like that for literal years.
Ren was at a rebellious age, refusing to wear his coat despite the sub-zero temperatures, and his dad was about to lose his rag after offering up a winter playtime.
A sulk had ensued since, leaving the young boy to hide upstairs during his tantrum. Majima was sat sulking himself on the settee, struggling to accept that his son had to ride out the emotional roller coaster in order to learn how to behave.
Noticing, you tugged on each side of his scarf to pull him towards you for a cheeky smooch, that he was too all to eager to reciprocate.
"What's the matter, Darling?" you asked gently, perching yourself on his lap.
"Ren," the man muttered, resting his face against your chest. "I'm sat here bein' bad dad again 'cause he won't wrap up," he sighed, adjusting how his hands held your curves.
"Do you remember when you got mild hypothermia in my office building?" you asked, tracing shapes on his shoulder. He was grumpy, grumbling at the memory. "Wow, you really have become some bitter old man," you teased, stroking strands of hair back to reveal the lines on his forehead. It was difficult not to laugh, each one receiving a soothing kiss from you in order to try and stifle it. "Not to worry. Mom's gonna save the day with cookies."
Leaving his lap, it felt empty without the familiar weight on it.
"Alright," he sighed, fiddling around for his cigarettes.
"While you're doin' that, I'm gonna have a smoke. I dunno what I'd do without you, Doll."
"I know," you smirked, getting your kisses in on his mouth before the tobacco taste started.