Yet Another JoJo Oneshot Book

Oh, Be Tender* || Blackmore

AAAAAH BLACKMORE. I LOVE BLACKMORE. That's all. Content warning for blood and wounds

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He would be home on the next storm that passed through, that's what Blackmore had told you days ago. You knew you could trust him, but with his line of work it was easy to worry.

The storm raged on. And yet, you waited for him, heart aching for the man you called yours. The awning above you shielded you from the rain. Lightning illuminated the water falling from the sky occasionally. You counted the seconds between each strike. At this point you could worry the lightning would get him before any assassin.

Lightning struck again, and this time you saw his figure, heart beating right into your chest. But something was wrong; he wasn't in the sky. Instead, Blackmore was walking on the ground.

You had the mind to grab your umbrella before you ran out to him, boots kicking up puddles in the mud around you. Blackmore could barely be heard over the rain saying your name, before he collapsed into your arms. His sopping wet figure clung to you and your clothes, a cold nose pressing deep into the crook of your neck, sighing your name again, deeply and full of clouded emotion.

"Y/n."

"What's happened?"

Blackmore whined in pain, saying nothing but leaning slightly to the side, opening his left arm to show you his stomach. Despite the dark coating and the night sky, you could still see the odd hole in his poncho and shirt, and the blackish liquid staining his wrist.

"You got shot?" You deduced.

"I stopped most of the bleeding using rain droplets, but the bullet is still in me... 'm so~rry..." You sushed him quickly with a soft kiss, guiding him home without trying to drop your umbrella.

After dropping him down on your bed, you quickly strip Blackmore of his poncho and peel away his bloody shirt. He has two bullet wounds. Definitely not good, but it could be worse. Blackmore's nerves are steeled throughout the process of you grabbing towels, tweezers, and water. At the time you didn't have the right equipment you wished you had. A stupid mistake. Blackmore normally came home with wounds in need of patching up, but it's never been bullet holes until tonight. You should've prepared for more, but alas, there isn't time to beat yourself up. You needed to help him.

You sterilized your pair of tweezers before bringing them to light, "I'm going to try and get the bullets out. I need you to stay absolutely still, so I don't do anymore damage, okay?" Blackmore nodded, 

"Yes ma'am." His hand grabbed on to the bedframe for dear life, knuckles turning pale, but his body was stiff and still. He'd try his best to be still for you.

You got to work quickly, not wanting to doddle. Your hand was steady, shockingly. You weren't sure where you found the strength, but you were able to get the pieces of metal out of his abdomen. They came out in one clean try each, getting added to the small tray you left out for them, collecting in a small puddle of Blackmore's blood. After that was done, you wiped away the wet and dried blood surrounding the wounds, finding his pale skin underneath. The bleeding had slowed, but didn't show any signs of stopping. All you had to stop it was padding and gauze. It would have to do. For now.

"Honestly Blackmore. Leaving me alone for so long and only coming back to make me patch you up. It's almost unforgivable." You hid your paranoia with gentle jests as you wound the gauze around his midsection. "You're lucky you're good looking, I just can't say no to a face like yours." You added on, hoping it was clear enough for him to know you were only joking. You didn't want him to feel guilty. It's not like he could control it. You did wish the president didn't work him so hard.