content: crybaby reader, violence, blood, fighting, (happy ending :3 !)
what i've come to accept is that I simply cannot stop writing toji resorting to violence when reader's feelings get hurt
It had been years since Toji had attended a family event like this. a clan reunion dinner of sorts. You’d been cautious after receiving a sealed envelope with the Zenin crest last month, reluctantly passing it to Toji after he’d gotten home from work.
“How do they know where I fucking live… freaks,” he mutters, eyes scanning the parchment before blowing wide after reading what the invite was for.
“Wait, Naoya's engaged?” he laughs, folding the letter up and handing it back to you.
Naoya. You'd heard that name once or twice from him. Never anything good.
“What's so funny?” you ask.
“Nothing," He laughs. "Just didn’t think it’d be to a woman.”
Toji pulls your seat out for you, letting you scooch in until your stomach presses up against the table. The raven-haired man settles in the seat next to you with a sigh, drumming on the table absentmindedly as the rest of his estranged family files in.
You feel ten, maybe fifteen pairs of emerald eyes bore into you in the few moments it takes for everyone to settle. Servants in black and white uniforms weave in and out of the room, their heads low as they hand out drinks.
The family had barely tolerated Toji for years. The family reject bringing an outsider as his plus one clearly wasn't helping. You brace yourself for the cacophony of whispers from the other women at the table, slinking into your seat to try and appear smaller.
Except, the insults never come. A certain lithe blond had already captured the room’s attention, graciously greeting each guest with a confident smile.
“You’ve grown so much Naoya.” An older woman gushes, patting his cheek. He accepts the affection warmly.
He seems nice enough, you think to yourself. Watching as his smile morphs into a look of disgust as soon as she sits back down.
Right, never cast judgment too quickly.
Naoya acts fast, snatching a perfectly folded handkerchief from his suit’s front pocket, to scrub the spot she’d touched. He tosses the fabric to a passing waitress, stealing a glass of wine off of her serving platter before downing the entire thing in two gulps.
So this was the infamous blond. Toji’s bratty cousin and subsequent family nemesis. Interesting.
"So where's his fiance?" You whisper to Toji, trying to make yourself small at his side.
"Dunno," he snorts, "They probably won't meet each other til' their wedding day." He explains. Weird.
Newly inspired, you decide to take a sip from your own glass, wincing at the harsh aftertaste that blooms on your tongue.
“Too strong?” Toji asks softly. You nod sheepishly, thanking him as he switches your glass for his cup of water.
“Definitely the real stuff.” You mutter, trying not to gag.
“They’ve been aging this stuff since he was born,” Toji explains. “Family tradition, everyone gets a barrel that the family cracks open at one point or another.”
“So when are we opening your barrel?”
Toji pauses, a faint playful smile on his lips.
“Shit, you think the family dud gets a barrel?” He doesn’t look hurt at the admission, but the creases around his eyes tell a different story.
An older man saunters up to the two of you, clapping Toji on the back before you can say anything.
“How long has it been my boy?” He exclaims, pulling the younger man into a hug and stepping back to give him a once-over.
Maybe an uncle, you think. They share the same hearty laugh.
Toji chuckles, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Couple years at least.”
“This your lady?” The older man asks, shooting you a wink.
Strange, you realize this is the first anyone in the room besides Toji had acknowledged you tonight.
“You know it,” Toji remarks fondly, laughing as the Uncle makes a quip you can’t quite hear before returning to his seat.
Nayoa kisses his teeth loudly, locking eyes with you from across the table. His words are loud when he cuts in, the room going silent as he speaks.
“So were you trying to water down your bloodline when you chose her?” A few partygoers laugh.
Your eyes frantically scan the room, confirming your worst fear. Almost everyone was laughing at the two of you. Your vision blurs as tears gather in the corner of your eyes.
Naoya smiles coyly, leaning forward as he continues. “Or do you like the thought of children that are as useless as you ar–”
“You shut the fuck up when I’m talking.” Toji seethes, pointing the prongs of his fork in the direction of the blond. You feel every eye in the room bore into the both of you, jagged emeralds picking your every atom apart. Toji doesn’t seem to care, chest heaving as he waits for a response.
Naoya's smile fades. The younger man looks Toji up and down before taking a long sip from his cup of wine.
“I guess we have our answer.” He teases, reveling in the tauntful laughs that his joke earns.
Your stomach churns painfully, eyes zoning in on the glass of wine Toji had stolen from you earlier. Would downing the whole thing somehow get you drunk enough to forget this entire ordeal? If there was a time to leave, it would be now.
“Baby,” you mutter, tugging on the waist of Toji’s dress pants. “Let’s just go.”
“Fuck that,” your boyfriend spits, glaring down his shit-faced little cousin. You glue your eyes to the floor.
“Say it again.” He commands, his tone incredulous.
“What? That whatever spawn you two crank out will be duds?” Naoya asks innocently. “You can’t possibly be mad at me for pointing out the obvious?”
You feel Toji’s warmth leave your side as your boyfriend launches forward, knocking plates out of the way as he barrels over the table and tackles his cousin.
The table erupts in hysterics, the older men in the room urge the two of them to break it up while the women stare into their plates, horrified. You swear you hear a baby crying.
“Let me go you fucking ape!” you hear the blond grunt, driving his knee into Toji’s ribcage repeatedly as your boyfriend attempts to hold him down by the shoulders. Crimson rivets of blood leak down from Naoya's nose, accentuating the cracks in his lips.
You scurry back from the table, hand over your mouth as you take in the debacle. That churning feeling in your stomach has been replaced by something… much different.
Something thick and viscous in the depths of your soul. Something saccharine sweet that makes your head swim.
Toji looked, for lack of a better word, fucking hot like this.
His hair disheveled and sticking to his forehead, blood splattered across his cheek, face contorted in a manic smile so wide that the corner of his lips threatened to split. And he was doing it in defense of you. His sweet girl.
Your boyfriend manages to pin Naoya’s arm behind his back, pressing his weight forward and bending it at an angle that elicits a yelp from the younger man. Toji grabs him by the scruff of his neck, angling his head so Naoya is forced to look you in the eyes.
“Apologize.” He commands his voice a low, menacing rasp that sends a chill down your spine. The others in the room feel less important as the gravity of the situation washes over you.
Naoya laughs like it's the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard.
“For what?” he spits, glaring at you through silky black-tipped bangs.
You flinch as the blond’s head is slammed down onto the tablecloth, his cheek squished into the plain linen by a hand large enough to dwarf his entire skull.
“I said, apologize,” Toji states plainly, his tone harsh and unwavering.
Naoya pants, eyes darting around the room as if searching for someone—anyone—brave enough to intervene. No one moves.
The younger man seems to mull it over, giving in as his arm twists to its limit.
“I’'m-- shit! I'm sorry,” He grunts, gasping in relief as your boyfriend releases him from his grip.
The room remains silent. A few relatives exchange horrified glances. The tension is suffocating, yet you can’t help but feel a flicker of triumph.
Toji saunters back into his seat like nothing happened, glancing up through his hair to address the room.
“Eat,” It isn't a suggestion.
The scraping of utensils against plates resumes hesitantly, the family too shaken to address the elephant in the room.
You sit quietly, your heart still racing. Toji’s hand finds your thigh under the table, his touch firm and grounding.
The rest of the meal passes in awkward silence, punctuated only by the occasional cough or clink of silverware. Naoya sits at the far end of the table, mercilessly scrubbing at the blood that stains the front of his pristine white dress shirt.
When the meal is over, Toji doesn’t wait for the formalities to begin. He stands abruptly, helping you to your feet. “Get up,” he commands, a tender hand finding its home on the small of your back.
The two of you stride out of the room, the weight of a dozen judging stares on your back. The moment you’re outside, Toji lets out a soft chuckle, the sound rumbling deep in his chest.
“Did you see his face?” he says, grinning like a man who’s just won the lottery. Toji holds his arm behind his back just like he had done to his cousin, forcing an exaggeratedly pained look.
You can’t help it—you laugh, a real, unrestrained laugh that shakes the tension from your body.
“You’re insane,” you manage between giggles.
"Maybe,” he smirks, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you walk toward the car.
