You Touched the Bride? I Killed the Pride
Synopsis: Yandere Yakuza Katsuki x MC
Basically, Katsuki waits endlessly for his bride to leave their company for the night when someone pisses him off
Tw: blood, not murder but violent, knife, a stab, couple of slashes, physical fighting, maybe slight gore, maybe morally confused MC, also perhaps some cultural nuances where you're like tf??
Note: bride is used as a gender neutral term- and also this is based on certain Εsaka yakuza, you may be more familiar with the richer/bigger bands. Some of the stuff that was typical for Yakuza to do (like call their spouse bride) may clash with Katsuki's personality, so keep that in mind.
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Εsaka. The centerhouse for the true yakuza. Not TΕkyΕ, where all those fancy men in suits and expensive guns shoot their shots like those inaccurate noir movies. No. In this city, it's all in the art of fists and blades you pick up from the stationary store. Where brotherhood is the only way to survive the streets, away from the lights.
Such was the life of Katsuki. From the very moment he got put in a separate room in school for being too violent, he booked it. He never looked back. Why should he try to please the higher-ups when all they do is take what they want? No. He isn't going to be a puppet. He would rather stain his white button-ups in blood than bow to old, entitled men.
On a lame, friday summer night, he sits on a concrete parking bump outside a convenience store. Annoyance is a simple statement, but it's what Katsuki felt. Why does his bride bother trying to work? It's not like they were poor; he brought home a comfortable amount of money. Maintain independence? What a futile argument. Since when did money become attached to freedom?
Yet here he is, letting it happen and suffering the consequences. He glanced at his watch. 6:43 in the night. How long has he been waiting now? 2 hours? Who knows. He sighed as he glanced over at the next-door building, awaiting them to step out. He wanted to go home and eat, damn it. He lets out a splash of smoke from his cigarette into the humid air. The crickets are singing their songs of boredom with him.
After a few more puffs, he finally spots a man walking out with a coworker. He didn't know who the fuck MC worked with, but if employees are starting to leave, then it must mean the different departments are moving out. He keeps a close gaze on the pair, just to ensure they aren't being creeps.
"Oh, MC? They're kinda cute aren't they? They were so focused they didn't even notice I brought tea over for them." One of the men chuckles to himself, chatting carelessly. He clearly didn't notice the devil's stare from across the street at the mention of 'MC'. He casually walked with his friend down the street, laughing under the dim street lights.
"Don't fucking play with me, MC. You got these fuckers drooling over you now? I swear to fucking Buddha that you're the reason why I have to buy new shirts every few weeks." He drops his cigarette, letting it fall before crushing it with his shoe. The flame never stood a chance against his heartbeat of rage. He sticks his hand into his pocket, swinging his suit coat over his shoulder. Even with his languid posture, his golden chain gleams under the same street light.
Except the glimmer is a warning.
Katsuki's steps aren't thunderous. No, in his time of vengeance, his steps grace over the pavement like death that silently looms. He pursues the pair until the bastard splits off to a quiet residential street. Undeniably, the worst spot for the man when Katsuki's pissed. The officeworker hums contentedly as he travels, forcing Katsuki's blood to swell even more throughout his veins.
Katsuki then finally calls out, "Hey- you." He approaches the man as he stops, his glare never melting, unbreaking cold steel. His shoulders stiffen as his spine straightens out to hold himself at his true height. "Talked with my bride, bitch?" He harshly seethes, never giving a single fuck about formality rules.
The guy appears stunned by Katuski's brashness. He stammers softly, "Oh no, I don't think so." The man couldn't remember talking to a lady since he leaved the company for the night.
"Oh yes, you fucking did." Katsuki then leans closer, his ruby eyes: the gateway to hell itself. "I heard you mention how cute MC is. Guess who they're married to?" He doesn't let the man respond before kicking straight into his nuts, shoving him back into the enshrouded alley while he's weakened. "No one fucking talks to my bride, and I'm gonna fucking the shit out of you for doing that."
The man couldn't even manage a yelp or a scream before Katsuki's fists collided with his body. The pain shocking through him with no room to resist. Katsuki doesn't play around with his victims; he's a bomb that explodes, simmering until the time is right. He slams his leg into the salaryman's body, making the target recoil as he flips out a Swiss Army knife.
Some men hesitate when they do their first kills. Katsuki never did, even all those years ago. He shuts off any sense of morality contributing to the common good- he's been a monster from the start. With a breath, he darts his hand, letting the blade puncture into the man's mid-torso. Even if the blade itself isn't designed for brutal murder, its sharpness is useful enough for weaklings like these. He didn't need a huge siren of a knife to carry around; he didn't want those bitchy cops to lock him up.
With blood gushing into the man's shirt, Katsuki only does a couple more slashes for good measure before giving a final rough uppercut to knock the man out. As the man falls onto the obscured concrete, the mask of humaneness fades away. He does a small snark himself, stepping out. "Serves you right, bitch."
His head tilts to stare at his shirt, which was once perfectly crisp and white, but is now messed up and covered in stains of crimson. He grumbles, "Should I even bother putting this in the wash?" He turns away from the scene as if nothing had happened, heading back for the convenience store. Hopefully, MC won't get mad at him; he didn't like seeing their eyes go all glassy as they cling to him. Somehow, they're always worried about him, not the countless people he's slain and injured.
He finds himself back on the concrete parking block, sighing as he runs a hand through his messy hair. He doesn't bother lighting up another smoke, instead checking his watch. 7:02 PM. What the hell? They should have been off 2 hours ago. The overtime is seriously ridiculous. A few beats pass by before he sees a figure leave the company edificiary again. The moment he sees a certain face, he forces himself up, crossing the street. "You took too fucking long, bride."
"Sorry! I wanted to get a lot done so I didn't have to worry about it over the weekend." As they catch sight of him, they tense up. "Katsuki? Don't tell me that's blood." They frown, knowing very well the activities he kept up with. Countless times, they advised him to stop, but he's an unrelenting man. Such consequences come with marrying a Yakuza like him.
Katsuki grunts, "Tell ya' later. I'm starving." He nudges his shoulder into theirs, a slight demonstration of protectiveness. He takes their work bag into his arms, letting it lazily hang from his fingers. He wasn't the sweetest man, but he exhibits it when he desires to.
"Fine...I'll have to stop by the store though, most of the usual ingredients are gone." They mutter, noting that their heart beat a little at the sight of their husband snatching their items. "What do you want to eat, Katsuki?" They make sure to keep in step with his slower pace, seeing it as a nice opportunity for quality time.
Katsuki is silent before requesting, "It's summer. Let's eat sΕmen." He stares into their eyes, his rage cooling off to a brief fondness.
Only for them, did he care about someone.
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As you stroll along with a basket hooked on your arm, Katsuki follows you, pointing at a couple of products here and there that you could use to cook a recipe he enjoys. Whenever you try to grab a smaller pack for the lower price, Katsuki yanks it back into its place and replaces it with the bigger pack. "Don't skimp out on me, you don't need to worry about money."
When you pass by the fish section, a middle-aged woman gasps, "Oh my goodness! Are you injured???" She points at the blood that has marinated into his shirt, now burgundy stains. You awkwardly freeze, not knowing how to cover up his dilemma. You should have gotten used to it by now, considering how often Katsuki just shows up covered in vermillion.
He raises a brow, "The fuck? I'm a tattoo artist, it's just some ink." He tugs you along, trying to ignore the lady. A tattoo artist, honestly, isn't much better, especially with how people view them. Regardless, it's better than admitting you're a murderer.
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After arriving at home, you put away the groceries before getting started with dinner. Katsuki is restless, you could tell. You let him chop up the ingredients, since his knifework is better than yours for obvious reasons. Meanwhile, you boil the thin noodles, careful not to break their fragile structure.
Once all the food is ready, you carry it over to the table, where it's arranged around the main dish: SΕmen. You hum as you sit. Before you can even thank the food, Katsuki suddenly leans over the table. He presses a chaste kiss on the edge of your lip: unusual for him to do out of nowhere. You freak out, "W-wha- did something happen?"
He smirks, shirt gone in the wash (which you convinced was salvageable despite all the stains), as he answers, "Yes, maybe no." He relaxes against the back of the chair. He threads his fingers with yours as they rest against the table. He's unusually touchy today.
Then he freezes. He interrogates, "Hey, where the hell's your wedding ring?" His eyes scan the rest of your body, wondering where the morganite ring he fought tooth and nail to claim is. "Don't tell me you lost it." His gaze darkens, not at you, but at the thought of some greedy filth stealing what isn't theirs.
You panic for a moment before remembering, "Oh, wait! I forgot to put it back on after showering last night." You laugh sheepishly, knowing you gave him a heart attack.
He sighs, shaking his head. "For fucks sake, MC, you almost made me go find that expensive ass thing." He tongues his cheek for a second before changing the topic, "So, you wanted to hear about what happened with me?"
You nod. No more words needed to be said.
He rakes his free fingers through his hair as he explains, "Basically, while I was waiting for you, some fucker came out talkin' about how cute you are. Fuckin' hated that shit- so I gave him a warning. Physically." He is way too nonchalant about the story, but that inherently comes when you're a yakuza.
You make a small pout, caressing the scarred side of his face affectionately, "You need to stop doing that. You're gonna get caught or hurt...and better yet, it would prevent random people from being killed." This is the most uncertain part of it all: in love with a killer like him. If it wasn't for your undying love, you probably would have called the police a thousand times over by now.
Katsuki scoffed, "No, bride. That fucker overstepped his place." The crease in his brow lessens as he continues, "I need to make sure you stay by my side."
You tilt your head, puzzled by his reasoning. You ask, "Why? I'll always stay with you." Katsuki can be a sweetheart when he wants to be. Fortunately, you're on that list.
He laughs, "You're way too naive about it, bride." He points to your finger, "See that?"
You flicker your eyes at where he points: it's just your bare ring finger. "What about it?"
"Donβt ever forget your ring baby. Keeps those losers from humiliating their pride.β
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Me love Yakuza Katsuki so much- it's such a fitting concept for him in my opinion. Anyway, I hope you like it as much as I do.
Lowkey I think I should have made MC a bit more cautious about Katsuki being a killer, but then I have to remind myself that lowkey my grandma did the same thing: marrying a violent dude. So yeah idk.
