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pandora-writes-one-piece · 4 months ago

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The Meet Cute - Law's Story - 15

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The Great Pretender 15

Word Count: 3499

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Law is a soft dom; you have bratty tendencies (not all the time); voice kink; praise kink; cursing; very suggestive behaviour and innuendo from the start; sexual tension; teasing; so much flirting; romance; slow-burn; fluff; slight angst; mature audiences (though explicit NSFW moments will be properly tagged on the chapter); possessive Law; protective Law; soft Law; teasing Law; manipulative Doflamingo; inappropriate Doflamingo; fake relationship trope; only one-bed trope; reader has some anxiety issues; reader is a control freak and perfectionist; modern day AU; Mention of ex mentally abusive relationship;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Law (your father's doctor) start to build a flirty friendship because of your father’s procedure. So much so that when he’s invited to Baby 5’s wedding (his cousin), he asks you to be his date. His uncle Doflamingo - who is filthy rich - is very adamant on finding a suitable wife for him. Seeing as he wants to avoid that, he asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for the weekend.

Notes: Do forgive me for the small chapter... *sigh*

“Cariño, having fun?”

Shit.

“Sir?” You ask, feigning innocence.

“Don’t pretend, darling, it doesn’t suit you.” Doffy takes a step forward, towering over you in an intimidating manner. He has an unsettling grin on his lips and the usual glint in his red eyes. “You and my nephew? You can’t hide that pretty glow.” He purrs and you flush deeper. “Too bad that this time I didn’t get to hear any of your pretty noises…”

Doflamingo keeps circling you as if you were prey. His eyes locked on your form, noticing any shiver, any tremble, any kind of movement that might give anything away. “Of course, we can remedy that, mi querida. Anytime you want.” He leans down, his breath warm against your ear. “You see, while my dear nephew might have advised you to keep quiet, pretending to be sneaky, I would prefer to hear you scream my name loud and clear so every guest knew what I was doing to you and how much you were enjoying it.”

You take a step back, your breath hitching in your throat as your hands clench into fists. “That’s utterly inappropriate, Sir.” Then you try to move forward to get away from his clutches, but he towers over you again.

“That’s not what you want? Because I can figure out what it is.” Cocking his head to the side, he hums lightly, one finger pressed against his lips as if he’s in deep thought. “Is it power, then? Because I can make sure you’re in all the right circles, rubbing shoulders with anyone who matters.”

You stiffen at the implication. He’s trying to fish for information again. You just have to keep steady, there’s nothing to hide. Nothing except the agonising rhythm of your heart, your anxiety clawing its way up your throat, scratching it and making it hard to speak.

“No? Influence, then? I know all the right people. You’d never have to feel unnoticed again.” Raising your chin, you meet his gaze with defiance, showing more bravado than you actually possess. “Money? It has to be money. I can offer you a lifestyle beyond your wildest imagination: beach houses, penthouses, luxury cars, designer clothes… all yours.”

“I don’t want any of that, Doflamingo, Sir.” Your voice shakes a little and you curse under your breath. Doffy caught you at a vulnerable state and you’re still too addled for this to be a fair battle of wits.

“So it’s just the thrill of it?” Doffy starts to circle you again, one of his fingers running along a strand of hair, and you hold your breath. “You are so hard to read, princesa, so, so hard. When I think I have you figured out, you sweep the rug from under me.” He tuts and stops, chin resting on his knuckles, a pensive expression on his face as he looks at you.

“Then there’s Vinsmoke Ichiji. I mean,” he scoffs, “I get why you left him, he’s an asshole. What I don’t get is why you were with him for four years. It just doesn’t add up. What did he give you? What did you gain from that relationship?”

Heartache? Trauma? Pain?

“And what do you want from Law?” Doflamingo almost growls, the smirk now gone, replaced by a frown as he leans down, his face mere inches from yours. “Because I know you weren’t together before this weekend. You weren’t dating.” He raises his hand to stop the words that are about to leave your lips - a weak denial, actually - and he continues. “Don’t deny it, princesa, once again, it doesn’t suit you. I investigated this, whatever you two have, and it happened this weekend. But I want to know why. What do you want from Law?”

You decide not to answer him. Your heart seems ready to jump out of your chest at a moment’s notice, and you’re more flustered now than you were after your little escapade with Law.

“It’s okay, I’ll figure you out, one way or another. You won’t get what you want. I will find out just what makes you tick, and then you’ll fold. They all do.” Doffy’s words are menacing and ominous, sending a cold shiver down your spine.

“I’m not hiding anything. I am who I am, and Law and I are together because we care about each other. I am not a puzzle waiting to be solved.” The words leave your lips through clenched teeth. Hard-edged, shaky and defiant, leaving you breathless with the effort of keeping steady.

“Oh, cariño, but you are.” He caresses your cheek, making you hiss and step back. “I will solve you. Don’t worry.” His laugh follows him down the corridor until he disappears around the corner, a hand in the air waving goodbye as you try to catch your breath and calm your unsteady heart.

-*-

You run into Law as you decide to go to the bathroom instead of heading towards the reception area. You’re so deep in your own head that you nearly stumble into him.

“Hey, hey, sweetheart, what's going on?”

With a frustrated grunt, you tell him about your encounter with his uncle. “So now we know he knows, plus Ichiji is here, and I’m feeling more and more trapped, Law.” You sigh. “It’s like Doffy won’t relent until he breaks us apart.” Your trembling hands clutch the lapels of Law’s jacket. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Law never wavers. His cool, controlled persona manages to calm your irrational fears and delusions as he brings you closer to him. Amber eyes piercing straight into your soul, keeping you tethered as your lack of control sends you spiralling further away from reality.

“Sweetheart, you won’t lose me.” Law kisses your temple softly. “So what if Doffy knows we weren’t together before? Let him believe what he wants, we’re together now, and we’re leaving tomorrow. Nothing he says or does will keep us apart. Okay?”

You nod, and Law sighs, his arms enveloping you in a cocoon of safety. “I should’ve never brought you here. I’m sorry. I knew my uncle was… extra, and I still subjected you to this.”

“Don’t say that.” Your whisper almost gets lost in the confines of his vest, where you have your head buried. “If you hadn’t asked me to do this, ‘we’ might not have happened.”

Law’s chuckle is quite cocksure. “Trust me, sweetheart, ‘we’ would’ve happened. One way or another.” You blush as a smile finally creeps its way onto your lips. The warmth in your chest expanding and taking hold of you. He seems so certain of the possibility of you two as a couple, like nothing could ever stand in your way. It's heartwarming.

It would be so easy… just open your lips and say it: I love you. It’s not that hard. You’re not ripping out a piece of your soul, even if the last person you uttered those words to completely destroyed you.

Law is special.

Just say it.

Say it.

Law cups your cheek and tilts your head so you can face him. “Let’s go back? Get this wedding over and done with so we can finally go home?” You nod, teetering between the lines of the bitter and the sweet. Your words seem trapped, lodged in your throat, held ransom by deep-seated trauma. And yet, you know that you’ve never loved like you love Law. And you know it’s a feeling that will only continue to expand and grow.

But the words remain imprisoned.

-*-

The cake has been cut, the bouquet tossed and the remainder of the night seems to have cooled off all of Doffy’s and Ichiji’s attempts to disrupt your newfound peace. Just another hour or two before you and Law can retire to your room, and then this whole nightmare will be over.

So the dream can finally begin.

It might be silly, since you’re still at the beginning of the relationship, but perhaps because of the romantic vibe of the wedding, you can’t help but think about what your next steps will be. You’ll date, obviously, because you never properly did that; you’ll spend a lot of time together; and then… maybe you can think about living together. Give ‘domestic’ another chance.

You and Law at at the table, resting your feet after standing in heels all day and he’s in the middle of promising you a very long massage once you’re back in your room. His lips hover over your ear as his fingers trace your thigh with a feather-light touch.

“I’m very good with anatomy, you know. I’m a doctor.” He teases, and you giggle, your eyes fixed on his. “I’ll start with your feet - I’m familiar with a lot of acupuncture pressure points, and some of them might bring you interesting sensations - then I’ll climb to your calves, knees…” His fingers trail up your thigh, his gaze mischievous. “Thigh… inner thigh…”

“And…?” You ask, breathless.

Law kisses your face, then your jawline as you turn, letting him catch your lips in a tender kiss. “And I can’t disclose the rest of my plan. I’ll keep it a surprise. I want to hear every little startled gasp that leaves your lips.”

A small chuckle makes your chest tremble. “You tease.”

From the corner of your eye, you can see Baby 5 and Sai approaching. They’ve been making rounds to all tables, thanking guests for coming and bestowing little gifts to them as a thank you. Law notices her approaching too, and he leans back slightly, his hand leaving your thigh and with it an empty feeling.

“Soon, sweetheart.”

“Dear cousin!” Baby 5 smiles as Sai holds out a wicker basket of small gifts. “Oh, honey, there aren’t any more of those little whiskey bottles. Could you grab more?” She bats her lashes, and Sai complies, leaving her to engage in small talk with you and Law while he retrieves the gift. “Are you enjoying the wedding?”

She actually seems like she’s glowing from all the happiness. You nod excitedly while Law teases her, saying he’s attended better weddings. They banter a little, and you find yourself relaxing some more, hoping the night continues without any more hiccups.

Except, as usual, things don’t go according to plan.

“Oh, I had no idea your girlfriend knew Sai’s groomsman, Ichiji! It all turned out perfectly after all, right?” She says your name and smiles. A pinch of dread twists in your stomach as she turns to the side and waves someone over. It’s Ichiji.

You and Law immediately straighten up in your seats, your relaxed state long forgotten. His arm settles on the back of your chair protectively.

“Ichiji, hi! I was just commenting on how remarkable it is that you two already knew each other. Doesn’t it make things easier?” Ichiji’s smirk reveals his canines, almost as if he’s a predator locking onto his prey, his intense gaze never leaving you.

“Indeed. So remarkable. You know, Baby 5, we go waaaay back.” Ichiji’s stance speaks of provocation, and Law straightens further, his arm brushing your shoulders as you clutch your drink tighter, your jaw locking and legs bouncing restlessly. “Don’t we, Doll?”

Your breath hitches, and you don’t look back at him, but Baby 5 doesn’t seem to sense your discomfort.

“Oh, how fun! You two must have some great stories to share, no? How’d you two meet?” Closing your eyes and holding your breath, you just will this moment to come to an end. Perhaps if you pray hard enough, Sai will come back with the gifts, and the bride and groom can go on their merry way.

Even without looking, you can feel Ichiji’s smugness as he slowly sips his drink. “We met in college. Those days were wild… the stories we could tell…”

“I don’t think anybody wants to listen to that, Vinsmoke.” Law’s voice cuts as sharp as a knife, though he has perfect control over its tone.

“Oh, come on, Trafalgar. I’m sure she didn’t share everything. Isn’t there anything you want to know about her wild days in college?” Memories come rushing back, and most of them are painful and demeaning. It seems that, even if there were some good moments at the start of your relationship with Ichiji, they were all drowned when he tainted everything with his manipulation and cruelty.

Your breath comes out in shaky gasps, and Law’s hand rubs soothing circles on your shoulder blade. “She told me all I need to know. Even if she didn’t, there’s nothing you can say that will interest me.” Law’s words are delivered with more calm and ice than you’ve ever heard from him, but there’s also an undercurrent of danger pulsating beneath. His protective instincts are kicking in, and you can sense him itching to act on it.

Baby 5 keeps smiling, though it seems a little strained now that she senses some sort of tension between the three of you. “Wait… I don’t understand. Were you two…?” She trails off, her eyes darting from Ichiji’s smug look to Law’s protective stance, then to your cowering form. Her brows raise in slow realisation and Ichiji interjects.

“Yes. We were in love, once. Engaged to be married, even. Small world, indeed, isn’t that right, Doll?”

You squirm in your seat, and Baby 5’s expression shifts to horror. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” Her gaze keeps darting between Law and yours. “I didn’t know! I never meant to make things awkward!” She laces her arm through Ichiji’s trying to drag him away from the scene, but he doesn’t budge.

“What do you mean, awkward? Not at all! We were just planning our future together, laying the foundations for our dream life. We were even discussing kids, right?” You can’t help it, your gaze falls back on his as all the colour drains from your face. How dare he?

You can barely breathe. The air is stifling, the heat overwhelming and the memories don’t stop. The word ‘Doll’ resounds in your head over and over as do his lies and manipulations. The clenching of your chest at how he made you feel, the powerlessness you had and all the power he held over you.

It’s too much.

All colours start to blur together, the room spins as you try to catch your breath, anxiety kicking in. In a second Law is up on his feet, pulling you up by the hand and supporting your weight against him.

He pins Ichiji in his cold gaze and practically snarls, his control slipping. “I warned you to stay the fuck away, Vinsmoke.”

Baby 5 looks mortified, she keeps trying to pull Ichiji but Law is already ushering you away from the table since you seem unable to do much more than stand. “Ichiji, let’s go, please. I didn’t know! I’m sorry.”

“Oh, come on, Baby 5. Don’t worry, we were just reminiscing about the good times. No harm, no foul, right, Doll? I mean… she was mine first.” Your chest keeps tightening as the room becomes smaller, constricting, suffocating. Bringing your hand to your neck you try to claw for air.

Before leaving, Law’s towering frame seems to engulf Ichiji’s. In his gaze there’s an unspoken warning as he delivers his words with a calmness you would never be able to achieve. “You’re done here, Vinsmoke, but I am not done with you yet.”

The warning lingers in the air as Law steadies you, his hand on your waist, and leads you away from the table, away from Baby 5, away from Ichiji, and away from all the painful memories.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. Focus on me.”

But you can’t. The room is spinning out of control, and Ichiji’s manic laugh is all you can seem to focus on. His words, his empty promises, his threats, and fake concern. It’s a whirlwind of dizzying thoughts, and you don’t know how to get out.

You can feel yourself fighting for air, gasping because nothing seems to fill up your lungs. And suddenly you’re swaying in Law’s arms. He’s taken you to the dance floor, pulling you closer to him as his arms ground you.

“You’re safe. I’m here. He’s gone.” His hand presses against the back of your head, pulling you to his chest so you can follow the beat of his own heart and try to steady your own. Slowly, you start to hear the soft music over Ichiji’s laughter. Law’s voice pulls you out, keeping you centred. “He’ll never touch you again. You were never his.”

Inhaling a deep breath, you slowly feel yourself gaining ground. Your lungs are functioning again, and your heart beat is steadying. There’s nothing you can do to stop the tremble in your hands, though, so you just clutch Law’s jacket as tightly as you can, burying your face in him and inhaling his soothing scent, again and again.

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

You’re such a mess. You’ve already lost count of how many times Law has had to bring you down from your panic. It’s a full-time job for him now, and you feel the need to say you’re sorry. Would he still want you if he knew how badly damaged you were? You might be in too deep now, but there’s always time for him to regret his decision.

You sniffle, and a whimper leaves your lips. Law keeps swaying you.

“How about a little distraction, hm?” Ever the attentive man, Law senses that words alone won’t stabilise you. “Let’s play a game, sweetheart, okay?” He tilts your chin so you’ll have to focus on his eyes.

“Game?” How foreign your voice sounds. Shaky, weak, trembling and fragile.

“Yeah.” He smiles gently, placing a small peck on your nose, trying to coax a smile from your lips. You try to focus, the bad memories slowly slipping away. “I bet I can make you smile before the song ends.”

It’s such a silly notion that it manages to shake you back to your senses, though the trembling still hasn’t subsided. “Make me smile?”

“Sure. If I manage to make you smile three times before we end our dance, I win.”

Your brows furrow in concentration. “And what happens if you win?”

“Bragging rights.” You twitch the corner of your lip but it’s not quite a smile, so he continues. “Fine. You’ll have to admit that you like me way more than you let on.”

Yeah, you do. So much more.

The first smile fully curves your lips upwards as you let out a breathy laugh, and Law’s posture loses some of its stiffness. “That’s one.” He grins, clearly pleased with himself.

Some of the tension begins to dissipate, and the weight pressing on your chest feels lighter. Your fingers are no longer clutching Law’s jacket for dear life. “Fair enough. What if I win?”

“Hmmm…” Law looks up, seemingly thinking of something to make you laugh again. Then a mischievous smirk fills his lips, and he leans forward to whisper in your ear. “I’ll let you be on top.”

Your breath hitches, and even when you try to fight it, a laugh escapes your lips as a flush fills your cheeks.

“Two.” Law pulls you closer, the intensity in his gaze returning. He sways you some more before kissing the top of your head and voicing his thoughts, “I’m not going to let him near you again, sweetheart. I’m sorry he ever did.”

You nod, feeling the knot in your stomach finally start to unravel. Law’s soothing words manage, once again, to ground you and to make you feel appreciated. The burning in your eyes and the tears that threatened to spill recede, and you feel more at ease.

“I trust you, Law.”

Law smiles, and the music begins to fade in the background. “One more?” He playfully asks, and as you’re about to retort that he’s out of time, he dips you, suddenly and too low. A squeak leaves your lips at the surprise, followed by a heartfelt laugh. When you look into his eyes, he’s grinning. “Three.”

“You’re ridiculous, Law.” You chuckle as he pulls you upright. He looks utterly pleased with himself, smug and cocky.

“Maybe, but I won.” The song has ended, but you’re still wrapped up in his arms.

“You did.” A sigh leaves your lips. “Thank you.”

“So you’re feeling better?” His thumb caresses your cheek, his lips inches from yours. You hum in agreement to his question. “Good. My reward?”

You flush deeply, lost in the amber of his eyes. Your stomach twists and coils, and your heart thrums faster than ever. But it’s not an overwhelming, disturbing feeling. It’s freeing, uplifting, and so damn satisfying.

“I love you, Law.” The words seem weightless, a whisper that carries all of your emotion. Law receives them with a soft smile, his eyes shining brightly as he leans even closer, breaths mingling, making your lips tingle, anticipating his kiss.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

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|Chapter 16|

#reader x trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar d law #trafalgar law #reader x law #you x law #reader insert #the meet cute #law x reader #law x you #trafalgar d water law

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punksyeet · 11 days ago

Text

- Lovesick ❥

Plot: When a sickness bug ruins his Valentine’s Day plans, Jimmy makes it his mission to help his lady feel special regardless.

Warning: Mature language & fluff! <3

A/N: happy belated v-day friends! please excuse how late i am to the party, as the flu has been kicking my ass for over a week now. also, don’t mind any errors or lack of attention to detail in some parts. this sickness took away any attention span i had left in me. 🥲

anywho, i hope you all enjoy this one. she’s a tiny one compared to my others, but we love her regardless! 💌

—————————————————————————————————

“Well Miss Gianna,” my doctor begins, walking back into the room after leaving to run a few tests. Covid, strep, and flu to be exact. “It turns out your instincts were correct. Your flu test came back positive.”

My heart drops at those last six words.

Positive? For the flu? On Valentine’s Day?

I let out a deep sigh, running a hand through my hair.

“I know the timing isn’t ideal,” he continues, intertwining his fingers in front of him. “But please understand that your health comes first.”

I nod slightly, my eyes fluttering closed. “I understand, Doc. Would you be able to send some medication over?”

“Absolutely,” he responds. “It’ll be ready at your pharmacy as soon as tomorrow morning.”

I nod again. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” he replies sweetly. “Take care, alright?”

And with that, he’s out the door.

I sit there for a minute in disbelief of my bad luck, before climbing off of the examination chair and putting my jacket back on.

When I reach my car, I immediately FaceTime Jon.

When he answers and pops up on the screen, he’s sat at a table taping something, a gorgeous smile on his face.

J: Hey, beautiful.

I smile at the compliment, pulling out of my parking spot.

G: Hi, my love. What are you up to?

J: Not much, just helping twin decorate his place for T before she gets home. Where you headed?

G: Aw, that’s sweet. She’s gonna love it. I’m headed home now.

J: Gotchu. Where you coming from?

My smile fades and I take a deep breath.

Get a grip, Gi. It’s not your fault. He’ll understand.

G: Urgent care.

He raises an eyebrow and a concerned look comes over his face.

J: Urgent care? What you was there for? Baby, you alright?

I shake my head, biting my lower lip.

G: Relax, Jon. It’s nothing too serious. I tested positive for the flu.

He just kind of sits there for a second, disbelief written all over his face.

J: You’re fuckin’ joking, right? You messin’ with me?

G: I wish. I felt like shit when I got up this morning and ran right to the doctor, knowing how much shit is going around. I called you as soon as I left.

J: Fuck, man.

He throws his head back and runs a hand over his face.

G: I know, babe. I’m sorry.

J: Nah, baby, don’t apologize. You ain’t get sick on purpose. The timing is just…

His voice trails off and I nod in agreement, resting my head back on the headrest when I reach a red light.

G: I know. That’s what I said.

He sighs and strokes his beard.

J: Aight. I guess we’re gonna have to work with what we got.

I pop my neck back, giving him a mean mug.

G: Boy, are you insane? You’re not coming anywhere near me.

J: Like hell I ain’t. Bae, you’re sick. I gotta take care of you. Do right by the woman I love.

G: Jonathan-

J: Nah, I don’t wanna hear allat. Lemme finish up here and I’ll be home in a bit, okay?

I sigh, running a hand through my curls, knowing that as hard as I try, I’m not winning this argument.

G: Okay. Fine.

J: Aight. Love you, mama. I’ll see you soon.

G: Okay. Love you too.

And with that, he hangs up.

I let out a deep sigh as the streetlight turns green, allowing me to turn onto the highway.

** Jimmy’s POV **

“Was that sis?” Josh asks, walking back to the island from the bathroom and taking a seat. “Everything good?”

I nod, licking my lower lip. “Yeah, man. She’s got the flu.”

His jaw drops in shock. “Fuck, man. You serious?”

I sigh, nodding. “Yup. She’s driving home from the doctor now.”

“Damn uce,” he replies, his attention turning to a banner. “Whatchu gonna do about tonight now?”

I shrug, shaking my head. “No idea. I had dinner reservations set and everything.”

He sucks his teeth. “I’m sorry, bro. Maybe you can rain check?”

I narrow my eyes, shaking my head. “Nah, I still gotta do right by her. I’ll come up with something.”

He nods, nudging my arm. “Whatever you need uce, I gotchu. Just let me know.”

I smile, nodding slightly. “Preciate you, man.”

Suddenly, a lightbulb goes off in my head and I turn back to my twin with a smirk.

He looks up at me and his expression immediately fades. “The hell you lookin’ at me like that for?”

“Big Jim has an ideaaa!” I sing, hopping out of my chair at the island.

Josh groans in response, placing his head in his hands. “Five words the world fears most.”

** Gianna’s POV **

“Guess he’s not home yet,” I mutter to myself, pulling up to Jon and I’s place and seeing an empty driveway.

After pulling in, I shut off my car, grab my things from the passenger side, and head up the pathway to our home.

With one swift motion, the front door flies open and so do my eyes.

There’s balloons and flowers everywhere.

Soft music echoing throughout the house.

The deep and warm scent of vanilla takes over whatever’s left of my sense of smell.

“J-Jon?” I call out, closing the door behind me and stepping further into the house.

“Welcome home m’lady,” he replies in an awful French accent, suddenly appearing in the doorway to the kitchen.

I chuckle in reaction to his goofiness and look around. “Babe, what is all this?”

He walks over and taking my stuff. “I refuse to let some stupid ass sickness ruin our night, baby. Today is all about love. Lemme show you how much I love you.”

I dramatically stick out my bottom lip as he pulls me into an embrace, rocking us back and forth and kissing my hair.

“Jon please,” I plead, stepping back. “I don’t want you to get si-“

“Shh,” he interrupts, pulling me back in. “You’re ruining the moment.”

I playfully roll my eyes and he chuckles, cupping my face and kissing me.

I wrap my arms around his waist and kiss back, my worries fading away the second we make contact.

“Cmon mama,” he orders, taking my hand and placing my stuff down on the couch. “Dinner will be ready soon.

“You go ahead,” I assure him, letting go of his hand and heading upstairs. “I’ll be right back.”

He nods and heads into the kitchen.

The dress I bought while shopping with T last week is too pretty to go to waste.

And if I can’t leave the house, it’s time to play dress up I guess.

I freshen up with a quick shower and slip into the silk, followed by a little makeup and hair action.

“Goddamn,” Jon coos when he sees me, after looking up from what looks like pasta sauce cooking on the stove. “Look at my girl.”

He lifts my hand and twirls me, a gorgeous smile on his face as he admires my body.

“This dress was originally for our date but,” I reply, soothing out the torso part. “I figured why let it go to waste when you’ve worked so hard on this too?”

He smiles and takes me into his arms, pulling me in by my waist.

“I love you so much, you know that?” he asks in between kisses to my jaw.

I giggle and lift my head, his beard tickling my skin. “I know, I know. And I love you too, baby. So much.”

I hold either side of his dreamy face and pull his lips to mine, softly smiling in the kiss.

He pulls away with a “mwuah” sound and takes my hand, leading me over to the dining table.

The rest of the night includes a candle light homemade dinner featuring our favorite wine, a steaming hot bath with rose petals, and gift giving on both sides.

Me to him, a silver chain to go with his favorite bracelet.

Him to me, a Cartier love ring that I’ve been eye-ing for months.

—————————————————————————————————

The next morning, I wake up to a bright ray of sunshine peeking in through our curtains.

With a groan, I turn over and nuzzle my face into Jon’s neck.

He responds with a pair of big muscular arms wrapped around me extra tight and a kiss on my temple.

“Mmm morning,” I greet him as best I can, before placing a light kiss on his jaw.

“Mornin’ ba-“ he’s interrupted by a fit of coughs.

Flemmy, raspy coughs.

My eyes fly open and I sit up, an amused expression on my face.

He glares up at me, shaking his head. “Don’t say it.”

I pucker my lips to the side with a smirk before laying back down to whisper in his ear. “I told you so.”

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space-cowboys-and-aliens · 3 months ago

Text

At Your Immediate Discretion

Rating: Mature

General Acacius x Reader

Word Count: 700

You meet General Acacius under the cover of night, revealing what you've been hiding from him.

"I have something weighing on my spirit. It seems that it needs your attention."

"What is it?"

"Over the last several weeks, I've realized…there are developments that have made their presence known to me."

"Developments? What is it you speak of?"

"Sir, my apologies. There is something horrible happening inside of me."

He laughs. "Horrible?"

"Yes, wicked and vile and ugly and…"

His face grows serious.

"Gods. We must get the doctors in at once. Fetch Brenan, he will see you to them."

"No! Sir, it’s more than what doctors’ minds alleviate."

The general, still confused, sits on a stone protruding from the ground.

"The feelings I have…the thoughts in my mind…you would think I’m growing mad. The worst kind, brought on in massive quantity by your presence. Forgive me. I cannot wash myself clean enough. I have tried. Gods, I fear the worst."

"My…"

He takes your wrists in one massive hand, holding them in a firm but grounding embrace.

"You are not…unclean, as you have said. You, of all, have the least to feel shame for. Who told you this was necessary to believe?"

"But never in my life have I felt so indecent, so exposed. It’s unnatural for a young woman of high nobility to entertain, allow, such deviancy! I throw shame upon myself. Forgive me. Depravity echoes through my soul."

"My lady. It’s very natural. Very mortal to feel…such a way."

You look up.

"It is?"

"It is."

"I say again, General. I have horrible, deeply troubling thoughts. Every day. Every night."

"Every night?"

"When you pace by in the corridors. I sense you from gait alone. Across the gardens in the mornings. In the cathedral. Every fiber of my being attunes to yours. I’ve been alone most of my life. I’ve never had anyone teach me the ways in… what I can only describe as carnal lust. The sins of the flesh. Cartha and Tom run through the streets in the night, scheming for their next conquests. Their company has surely infected my nature. I plague you now. I must…"

"Please look at me."

You can’t.

"There is something horrible happening inside of me..."

"There is nothing horrible happening."

"And it hurts."

"You don’t have to hurt, my star. Where does it hurt? Tell me."

"Here."

"Here?"

"Yes."

"And you say I am the cause of your impure thoughts."

"Dear gods, how to control it? This fire within, wreaking havoc and destruction wherever I turn. Please."

"Would you like me to show you…?"

His hand warm as he spread his touch across your waist.

"Please, let me touch you."

"Oh, my gods."

You lean forward, arms winding around his neck, bringing your foreheads together.

He holds onto you by your waist.

"Hey. Shhh, it’s okay. You make the sweetest sounds. Are they for me?"

You nod.

"Answer."

"Yes," you breathe.

"I’m going to take care of it, okay?"

You nod.

This is the first time you have ever felt anything like this. Your face contorts at the faintest hint of pleasure.

He slowly pulls your body closer until it’s pressed flush to his own.

"Does it feel good?"

"Yes, yes, it feels so good."

"You’re so sensitive…"

"So sensitive…," you repeat.

"So needy…"

You stop rocking your hips. Looking down at him,

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No, no. Come here. So good for me…"

"…you…"

"Turn around."

You obey, and he kisses your neck as you stretch the skin. You feel your head tilt up, up, towards the heavens. His laving attention increases as your impatience towards relief grows, drawing a slight whine from your core. He grunts, a heavy sigh upon your open back. Another kiss presses to the nape of your neck. Your breathing turns to pants, mouth open, gaping at the worlds above.

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jungkoode · 11 days ago

Text

死 KKANGPAE | #05 死

† medical emergencies †

"There's something ironic about learning to stitch wounds while he's sitting there half-naked, making your heart do things that probably need medical attention. But hey, at least if you stab yourself with the needle, there's a doctor in the house."

next | index

⚔ chapter details ⚔

word count: 7,5k

rating: mature

content: V being a menace, worried Chaewon, slaps, stitching practice, getting to know the medical chief aka J-Hope, shirtless stormy men and sexual tension.

☠ author's note ☠

DISCLAIMER TIME! I am not, in fact, a medical student. Shocking, I know. My knowledge of medical procedures comes entirely from watching too much House M.D. and falling down WebMD rabbit holes at 3 AM. So if any actual medical professionals are reading this... I am begging you to suspend your disbelief (；一_一)

I did spend like two hours researching stuff though! That counts for something, right? RIGHT? The things I do for accuracy, I swear. My browser history probably has me on several watch lists by now. Between this and the weapons research for chapter 3... Yeah, I'm definitely getting flagged somewhere (◎_◎;)

BUT ONTO THE GOOD STUFF! Ladies and gentlemen and everyone in between, please welcome our resident grumpy doctor to the stage! My love, my light, the medical chief himself - Jung Hoseok! What are we thinking? Because I'm lowkey living for his whole "I hate everyone but I'll still patch you up while cursing your existence" vibe.

Fun fact: I totally channeled my inner Dr. McCoy from Star Trek for his character. If you know, you know. And if you don't know... well, Spirk are my space parents and Bones is their bratty child. This is the hill I will die on. Do not @ me.

We've still got so many characters to properly introduce though! Remember that info dump in chapter 2? Yeah, we're gonna actually explore all of those personalities. Your girl's got PLANS.

Also, this chapter turned out way longer than expected but like... more content for you guys? You're welcome? I think? Look, my ADHD brain knows no word limits. It's either 500 words or 5000, there is no in between.

Anyways, hope you enjoy this one! Your comments fuel my questionable life choices and enable my caffeine addiction. Much love! (｡♥‿♥｡)

Caffeine addiction can only do so much. Stay tuned! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

⚔ socials ⚔

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tumblr/twitter: @jungkoode

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

You can't help but roll your eyes as V carries you through the castle like some damsel in distress. His confidence borders on cocky as he navigates the maze-like hallways, cradling you against his chest like you're made of glass. Which you're definitely not.

"Any chance we can skip this knight-in-shining-armor bit and just let me limp my way there?" You grumble, acutely aware of how your ankle throbs with each of his steps. "I promise I won't sue if I faceplant."

V's laugh rumbles through his chest. "And rob myself of playing the dashing hero? I don't think so, love."

His grin is infuriatingly charming as he spirals down another identical-looking hallway. The air smells like industrial cleaner and... cinnamon? You wrinkle your nose, trying to place that oddly familiar scent.

"You do know where you're going, right? Or should I start worrying that we're hopelessly lost?" Your tone is dry enough to kindle a fire as V makes yet another right turn. At this rate, you'll end up back where you started.

"I could navigate this place blindfolded," V assures you with a theatrical wink. "Just thought we'd enjoy the scenic route together."

"Scenic... sure." You emphasize each word with as much sarcasm as you can muster. But dammit, there's something about his playful banter that tugs at the corners of your mouth. You bite the inside of your cheek, determined not to give him the satisfaction of making you smile.

You shift slightly in V's arms, trying to find a position that doesn't make your ankle scream. Each movement is a lovely reminder of how you got into this mess in the first place. t̶h̶a̶n̶k̶s̶ ̶J̶e̶o̶n̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶a̶s̶s̶h̶o̶l̶e̶

The castle halls are alive with activity, but everything seems to pause as V carries you through. Other members stop and stare, probably wondering why one of the most dangerous men in Kkangpae is playing nurse. Their whispers follow you like shadows.

"If you're trying to show off your navigation skills, I should mention we've passed that painting three times now." You eye him skeptically.

"Bold of you to assume I'm trying to impress you." His grin never wavers. "Though I'm flattered you think I'd go to such lengths."

The silence that follows feels loaded. This little detour isn't just about getting you to medical—it's about something else. A game, maybe, or a message. With V, it's hard to tell where the performance ends and reality begins.

"So what's the real reason for the scenic route?" You can't help asking. It's weird how safe you feel in his arms, considering he could probably kill you fifteen different ways without breaking a sweat.

"Call it... building rapport." His voice drips honey-sweet mischief. "You're quite the talk of the castle these days. Thought I'd see what all the fuss is about."

A laugh bubbles up before you can stop it. There's something absurdly hilarious about being carried through the gang's headquarters by one of its most lethal members.

"Well, don't get too attached." The words come out lighter than intended. "This doesn't make us friends."

His chuckle vibrates through his chest. "Give it time." When his eyes meet yours, they're dancing with amusement. "Besides, isn't this more fun than limping alone?"

More members pass by, their stares lingering a bit too long. You know tomorrow the castle will be buzzing with gossip about this little parade, but somehow you can't bring yourself to care.

"Fun's one word for it." You crack a smile despite yourself. "But just so we're clear—I'm staying out of whatever's going on between you and Jeon."

Something dark flickers across his face at the mention of Jeon, his thorny aura constricting for just a second before relaxing again.

"Wouldn't expect anything else." There's actual respect in his voice now. "You've got a mind of your own. That's rare around here."

The infirmary door finally comes into view. This weird little moment of almost-friendship hangs in the air between you.

"End of the line." V announces with theatrical flair. "I must say, this has been delightfully entertaining."

The wooden barrier of the infirmary looms ahead, but V shows no signs of letting you down. Before you can voice your protest, he shifts you slightly to pull out his digital card, swiping it with practiced ease. The panel blinks green, and he sweeps through the door like he's making a grand entrance at a red carpet event.

You're starting to feel less like a patient and more like a prop in V's latest dramatic production.

"Not you again, V. Get out of here."

J-Hope doesn't even bother looking up from his paperwork, his voice dripping with the kind of exasperation that only comes from dealing with V's antics on a regular basis.

"But it's an emergency, Hobs!" V's pout is so exaggerated it should come with its own spotlight. "This young lady has been severely injured."

J-Hope finally turns around, giving you a quick once-over before fixing V with an unimpressed stare. "That's what you say every three business days."

"Ah, but this time it's different, I promise." V's grin could charm snakes, but J-Hope seems immune.

"And why exactly should I believe you?" He crosses his arms. "You know I only handle council cases and actual emergencies."

V sets you down on the nearest bed with surprising gentleness, his playful demeanor dimming just slightly. "I know, I know. But look at her ankle. It's swollen like a balloon. I couldn't just leave her hobbling around, could I?"

J-Hope sighs but steps closer to examine your injury. His touch is clinical and professional as he assesses the damage. "Fine. But this is the last time, V. You can't keep using the infirmary as your personal clinic for every damsel you distress."

"Damsel I distress?" V laughs, eyes dancing with mischief. "That's a new one. But I appreciate your assistance, Hobs. You're a true friend."

"Don't 'true friend' me." J-Hope rolls his eyes, gathering his medical supplies. "I'm only doing this because it's my job. And because she actually looks like she needs help, unlike your usual guests."

V lounges against a counter like he owns the place, watching J-Hope gather supplies. "Come on, give me some credit. I do bring real patients sometimes."

"Yeah, once every solar eclipse." J-Hope doesn't even look up from his medical kit. His earthy, sandalwood scent mixes with the sharp hospital smell of the infirmary.

V just shrugs, that playful grin still plastered on his face.

J-Hope finally turns to you, all business now. "Let's check that ankle." Then to V: "Get out."

"Think I'll stick around." V doesn't budge an inch. "Make sure she's in capable hands and all that."

"Right, because you're such an expert on medical care." J-Hope rolls his eyes. "Just admit you're bored and looking for entertainment."

V's laugh bounces off the sterile walls. "Maybe. Or maybe I just care deeply about my fellow gang members' wellbeing."

"Ignore him," J-Hope tells you, voice gentler than you expected from someone who looks perpetually done with everyone's shit. "This might hurt a bit."

You try to focus on J-Hope's treatment, but it's hard with V hovering nearby, his thorny aura filling the room. There's something almost fascinating about watching these two interact—like they can't stand each other but also can't help falling into this familiar pattern of bickering.

It hits you then, sitting on this hospital bed with one of the gang's most dangerous members playing guard dog while the chief medical officer patches you up—you've somehow stumbled right into the middle of Kkangpae's complicated web of relationships. And judging by the way V's still watching everything like a hawk, you're not getting untangled anytime soon.

The quiet of the infirmary shatters when the door slams open with enough force to make you jump. J-Hope doesn't even flinch—probably used to dramatic entrances by now.

Chaewon bursts in looking like she just ran a marathon, panic written all over her face. When she spots you on the bed with J-Hope working on your ankle and V lounging nearby, that panic turns to pure rage.

She doesn't say a word. Just marches straight up to V and slaps him so hard the sound echoes off the sterile walls. V, being V, doesn't even have the decency to look hurt. Just keeps grinning like this is all terribly amusing.

"Wow, you're feisty today, Chaechae." He rubs his cheek, still smiling. The nickname only seems to piss her off more.

"You absolute asshole." Chaewon's practically vibrating with anger. "I let you handle cross-training with my division for one day and someone gets hurt? What the hell, V?"

V throws his hands up, the picture of innocence. "Hey now, this one's not on me. Blame Jeon."

"Jeon?" She scoffs like the very idea is ridiculous. "Yeah, right."

You figure you should probably step in before Chaewon decides to slap V again. Not that he doesn't deserve it, but your division chief shouldn't have to deal with assault charges today.

"Actually..." You clear your throat. "It kind of was Jeon. I mean, technically it was my fault."

Everyone turns to stare at you. Even J-Hope pauses his ankle-wrapping to raise an eyebrow.

"I tried to ambush him," you explain, heat creeping up your neck. "There were these weird noises in the forest, then footsteps, and I thought maybe it was an enemy or something. Turned out to be Jeon. And then we found out it was all just V's paintball game."

Chaewon's anger dims a little as she looks at you, but when she turns back to V, there's still plenty of bite in her voice. "Paintball? Again? Are you actually five years old?"

"Guilty." V's grin gets wider, if that's even possible. "But you have to admit, it keeps things interesting around here."

"Can we focus on the actual patient?" J-Hope cuts through the tension, sounding like he's one dramatic moment away from throwing everyone out. "You can kill each other later, preferably not in my infirmary."

Chaewon's shoulders drop a little, but you can still see worry lines creasing her forehead as she moves closer to your bed. Her presence feels protective, almost maternal—which is weird considering she can't be that much older than you.

"You okay?" She asks softly, then shoots V a glare that could melt steel. "I should've known better than to let them handle cross-training. Especially those two."

V just keeps grinning like this is the most entertaining show he's watched all week. He steps back, giving Chaewon space, but you notice he doesn't actually leave. Probably hoping for more drama.

"It's fine," you try to sound reassuring. "Just a sprain. Could've happened to anyone."

Chaewon's face says she's not buying it. The look she gives you reminds you of when your mom knew you were lying about doing your homework. Meanwhile, V's just chilling against the wall, watching everything unfold like it's his personal Netflix series.

J-Hope works on your ankle in silence, occasionally muttering what sounds like curses under his breath. The infirmary fills with an awkward mix of Chaewon's worried sighs, J-Hope's grumpy instructions, and V's unhelpful commentary about proper ankle-wrapping technique that makes J-Hope's eye twitch.

"There." J-Hope finally sits back, your ankle wrapped tight in elastic bandage. "Nothing serious, but you need to rest. Keep it elevated above your heart, keep the compression on. Should be fine in a couple weeks."

Your stomach drops. "I'm sorry—did you say weeks?"

"If you're lucky." He stands up with a scoff that suggests he's seen way too many idiots ignore his advice. "Could be longer if you try to play hero."

You look at Chaewon, hoping she'll say something about how that timeline is ridiculous.

Two weeks of no training?

You'll be behind everyone else, t̶o̶t̶a̶l̶l̶y̶ ̶u̶s̶e̶l̶e̶s̶s̶ completely out of practice by the time you're healed.

"I can't just not train for two weeks." The words come out whiny, but you're desperate. Two weeks of doing nothing while everyone else gets stronger? No way.

"Hell fucking no." J-Hope's voice is definite as he digs through medical drawers. "I'm not dealing with Jeon 2.0. You either rest for two weeks or I'll make it two months."

"That's why he avoids this place like the plague." V's still lounging in the doorway like he owns it, looking way too amused by everything.

J-Hope slams a drawer shut. "God forbid that fucker lets me do my actual job." He finally finds what he's looking for—a small bottle of pills. "Here." He tosses them at you with surprising accuracy. "Ibuprofen. One every eight hours. Six if you're dying, which you won't be if you actually rest."

"But—"

"Two. Weeks." Each word comes out like a threat. "Unless you want to become my permanent resident." His scowl could curdle milk. "And you—" He rounds on V, who's still grinning like this is the best entertainment he's had all day. "Get that bastard in here. His check-up's three months late."

V actually laughs at that. "What makes you think I have any control over what Mr. Stick-up-his-ass does?"

"Maybe he'll show up just to spite you." J-Hope's voice is dry as dust.

"Your optimism is adorable."

"Well, hope is literally my name." A rare smirk crosses J-Hope's face before his signature frown returns. "And you owe me, you dramatic little shit."

"As you wish, oh great healer." V throws his hands up in mock surrender, laying the theatrics on thick. "Your humble servant shall attempt this impossible task."

You stare at the bottle of ibuprofen in your hands, turning it over and over like maybe if you fidget with it enough, the label will change from "two weeks rest" to something more bearable. The thought of being benched for that long makes your stomach twist.

Two weeks is forever in gang time. Everyone else will be getting stronger, better, more valuable, while you're stuck playing invalid. By the time you're back on your feet, you'll be so far behind it'll be like starting over.

"Hey." The bed dips as Chaewon sits beside you, her presence grounding and familiar. "I can see those wheels turning. Don't stress. We'll figure something out."

"Actually," J-Hope pipes up from where he's finally managed to shoo V out the door. "You've got cross-training with my division coming up anyway. Could knock that out while you're healing. We always need an extra pair of hands here, and it'll keep you from going stir-crazy."

"Seriously?" You glance between them, hardly daring to hope. Medical training sounds way better than two weeks of staring at your ceiling.

"Makes sense." Chaewon nods, and something in her tone makes you think she's already working out the details in her head. "We can reschedule your Assassination Division training too. They can do individual sessions to work around your injury."

Wait.

Individual sessions? As in... one-on-one training? With V?

With Jeon?

Your brain short-circuits for a second before logic kicks back in. Cross-training exists for a reason—coordination between divisions is crucial in this life-or-death world you've chosen. One wrong move, one miscommunication, and people end up dead. If private lessons are what it takes to stay in the game, then t̶h̶a̶t̶'̶s̶ ̶t̶e̶r̶r̶i̶f̶y̶i̶n̶g̶ that's what you'll do.

"Okay." Your voice comes out smaller than intended, but you mean it.

"Good." J-Hope shoves his hands in his pockets, already looking done with this conversation. "See you tomorrow before lunch then."

"See you tomorrow, chief." You manage a smile, even as your mind races with possibilities—both exciting and terrifying—of what these next two weeks might bring.

Chaewon insists on wheeling you back to your room herself. The halls feel longer from wheelchair height, and her silence as she pushes you isn't helping. You can practically hear the gears turning in her head, probably already reworking training schedules around your stupid ankle.

She swipes her card at the elevator before you can even reach for yours. The ride up is quiet except for the soft hum of machinery and your own thoughts about how spectacularly you managed to mess up your first cross-training session.

The elevator dings open to your division's floor, and immediately you hear laughter spilling out from the lounge. Eunchae and Sakura are sprawled across the couch, but their smiles fade as soon as they spot you rolling in like some kind of injury parade.

"Holy shit, what happened?" Eunchae practically teleports to your side, crouching next to the wheelchair with wide eyes.

"Yeah, we heard all this commotion earlier but then you just... vanished." Sakura hovers nearby, her gaze bouncing between your wrapped ankle and your face like she's trying to piece together what went wrong.

You let out a long breath. "So... funny story. I tried to ambush Jeon during V's paintball game because I thought he was an enemy infiltrator or something."

"Oh no." Sakura's face does this thing where she's trying not to wince but totally failing.

"What the hell?" Eunchae's protective side flares up immediately. "Did that asshole body slam you or something?"

"Actually, no." You can't help but laugh at how ridiculous it all sounds now. "He just... countered me. Really easily. I'm the one who fucked up my landing."

"That's rough, buddy." Eunchae squeezes your shoulder, and you're grateful for how normal she's making this feel. "We played it smart—just hid behind trees and watched everyone else lose their minds."

"Yeah, except someone turned out to be weirdly good with a paintball gun." Eunchae nudges Sakura with her elbow. "Better watch out, Jeon. You've got competition."

Quick footsteps in the hallway make you look up. Yunjin bursts into the lounge like she's being chased, pink hair flying everywhere, face flushed.

"I heard voices and—oh my god, are you okay?" The words tumble out of her in a rush. "I couldn't find you after all that shooting started and I got so worried and—"

"Just a sprained ankle," you cut off her spiral with what you hope is a reassuring smile. "I'm fine, really."

Her shoulders drop a little, but she's still hovering like a concerned mother hen. "I got you dinner from the cafeteria. Figured you might be hungry after... everything."

The gesture makes something warm bloom in your chest. "Thanks, Yun. You're the best."

Chaewon clears her throat, reminding everyone she's still here. "Alright, enough chit-chat. Time to get you to bed. Doctor's orders."

Your little entourage follows as Chaewon wheels you to your room—Yunjin with the food tray balanced carefully in her hands, Eunchae and Sakura trailing behind like excited puppies. The scene would almost be funny if your ankle wasn't throbbing with every tiny bump in the floor.

Once you're settled in bed (after Yunjin fusses with your pillows for a solid minute), everyone finds spots to perch. The food smells amazing, and you realize you're actually starving.

"So what happened after I got taken out?" you ask between bites. "Did anyone else get ambushed by grumpy snipers?"

Sakura practically bounces in her seat. "Oh my god, you missed the best part! V did this insane action-movie roll thing when someone tried to corner him—"

"He looked like a deranged raccoon," Eunchae cuts in, making Yunjin snort water through her nose.

You lean back against your mountain of pillows (thanks, Yunjin), letting their chatter and laughter wash over you. Your ankle still hurts like a bitch, and the thought of dealing with Jeon and V for the next two weeks makes you want to scream a little. But right now, surrounded by these idiots who somehow became your family...

Maybe it won't be completely terrible.

t̶e̶r̶r̶i̶b̶l̶e̶ ̶l̶i̶k̶e̶ ̶J̶e̶o̶n̶'̶s̶ ̶s̶t̶u̶p̶i̶d̶ ̶p̶e̶r̶f̶e̶c̶t̶ ̶f̶a̶c̶e̶

Morning hits different when your whole body feels like it's been run over by a truck. Between last night's paintball drama and your throbbing ankle, you sleep through your usual breakfast time. Not that there's much point in early rising when you're stuck playing invalid anyway.

By the time you make it to the cafeteria, the morning rush is long gone. Your beloved croissants are just a distant memory, replaced by sad-looking toast and a fried egg that's probably been sitting under the heat lamp for hours. You grab a cup of earl gray because there's no way in hell you're touching that brown water they call coffee at this hour.

At least Eunchae's still around. She's like Yunjin's louder, bolder evil twin—in the best way possible. While Yunjin's off somewhere being productive (thanks to that whole "new year, new me" thing), Eunchae's happy to keep you company, practically writing poetry about her breakfast sandwich. The girl takes her food seriously, and honestly? You respect that.

When breakfast's done, she insists on walking you to the infirmary. You've swapped the wheelchair for crutches because hobbling around on sticks somehow feels less pathetic than being rolled everywhere like some kind of injured parade float.

You slide your card at J-Hope's private wing, expecting rejection—his space is usually reserved for council members and people who are literally dying. But apparently he's added you to his VIP list because the scanner blinks green without hesitation.

J-Hope actually looks pleased when you walk in, which is weird enough to make you do a double-take. Then again, he probably doesn't get many patients who actually follow his instructions. Must be a nice change from dealing with gang leaders who think they're too important for basic medical care.

Eunchae gives you a warm wave and friendly nod before disappearing, leaving you alone with the medical chief. The quiet efficiency of his workspace and his focused presence makes everything feel weirdly... peaceful.

"Nice to see someone following orders for once," he mutters, not looking up from what appears to be a small mountain of paperwork.

"You didn't exactly make it optional." Your lips twitch into a crooked smile.

"Never do." He grunts, shuffling papers. "Some people are just too stubborn to live."

"Can't you pull rank on them? Being head of medicine and all?" The question slips out before you can stop it.

"Oh, I do. More than I'd like." His voice carries years of dealing with difficult patients. "In here, I'm god. They pull rank, I pull rank. Doesn't matter if you're the supreme leader of the universe—I'll uno reverse card your ass so fast your head will spin."

"Bet that goes over well with the big shots."

"Their faces are always priceless." He actually smirks, tapping a stack of papers into perfect alignment. "Now, ready to learn how to not kill people with medical supplies?"

"Born ready." You settle into a chair, trying not to look too eager. After all, how hard can it be?

The infirmary honestly feels very different from the rest of the castle—all sterile air and quiet efficiency. J-Hope moves around like he's performing some kind of medical ballet, laying out supplies with the kind of precision that makes you think he could probably do this in his sleep.

Which, you guess, he probably can.

"Alright, lesson one." He snaps on latex gloves. "Stitching wounds isn't like sewing clothes. You fuck up, get sloppy with cleanliness, and your patient gets an infection. In our line of work, that's not just inconvenient—it's deadly."

You pull on your own gloves, the latex clinging weird and tight to your fingers. J-Hope picks up a suture needle, holding it between you like he's showing off a prized possession.

"What about when we're in the middle of nowhere?" The question slips out before you can stop it. "You know, during missions when shit goes sideways?"

He sets the needle down, and something in his expression shifts. The overhead light catches the tired lines around his eyes—probably from years of patching up stubborn gang members at ungodly hours.

"Field medicine is different," he says, suddenly sounding more like a battle-hardened mentor than a cranky doctor. "Clean is still better, but sometimes you've got to choose between perfect and alive. When someone's bleeding out in some warehouse, you work with what you've got."

He grabs a bottle of disinfectant, tapping it with one finger. "This? This is your new best friend. Small enough to carry anywhere, strong enough to maybe keep someone from dying of infection in a pinch."

"What about stitches?" The question slips out before you can stop it. The thought of someone bleeding out because you don't know what you're doing makes your stomach turn.

J-Hope nods like he gets it. His usual grumpiness softens into something more teacher-like. "In the field? Use whatever you've got—fishing line, clean thread, even fibers from sterilized cloth. Main thing is getting that wound closed before they bleed out or it gets infected."

He lets that sink in for a moment, fiddling with something metallic between his fingers. For all his crankiness, there's something reassuring about how seriously he takes this stuff.

"But the second—and I mean second—you're back, you bring them to me." His voice goes hard again. "This isn't permanent fixing, it's just keeping them alive until they reach actual medical care."

He holds up what looks like a weirdly curved needle. "This is what we use for stitching. Curved makes it easier to control, especially for beginners." His fingers dance over different types of thread. "Absorbable sutures for internal wounds, non-absorbable for surface cuts."

"Yeah, that means absolutely nothing to me."

The corner of his mouth twitches. "Right. Let's dumb it down." He reaches for what looks like a small medical kit. "In the field, you won't have time to play doctor. Your emergency kit will have basic curved needles and non-absorbable thread. Simple, reliable, gets the job done."

"And the other kind? The absorbable ones?"

"Those are for surgery—internal stuff. They dissolve on their own." He waves vaguely at the door. "Out there? Stick to non-absorbable. Quick and dirty fixes until you can get them proper help."

"So it's basically just... sewing someone up?" You try not to sound as skeptical as you feel.

"If you want to oversimplify it, sure." His dark eyes lock onto yours, dead serious. "But this isn't patching up your favorite jeans. You've got to line everything up right, make it tight enough to hold but not so tight it causes damage. And for fuck's sake, keep everything as clean as humanly possible."

You nod along, trying to picture yourself actually doing this in the field. The thought of having someone's life literally in your hands makes your stomach do weird flips.

"What about really bad wounds?" The question slips out before you can stop yourself. "Like, really bad."

J-Hope's hands pause over his supplies. Something in his expression shifts, and suddenly you remember he's probably seen exactly what you're imagining.

"Then your priority is keeping them alive long enough to get to me." His voice goes flat, professional. "Stop the bleeding first. Stabilize what you can. Stitches won't mean shit if they bleed out before you finish the first one." He looks you dead in the eye. "I'm good at what I do, but I can't bring back the dead."

The words hit harder than you expected. It's easy to forget sometimes, working in Seduction, that this isn't just some elaborate roleplay. People actually die in this life.

You watch as J-Hope threads the needle easily, his movements quick and precise. When he turns to what looks like a piece of fake skin, you try not to think too hard about where it came from or why it looks so... realistic.

"Pay attention now." He positions the needle above the practice pad. "Basic interrupted suture—it's your best friend in the field. Simple, reliable, gets the job done."

The way he handles the needle is almost mesmerizing. Each movement flows into the next like he's done this a million times before. Which, considering his job, he probably has. The stitches line up perfectly, neat little soldiers in a row.

"The key is entering at a 90-degree angle," he explains, demonstrating another perfect stitch. "Too shallow, it won't hold. Too deep, you cause more damage."

You lean closer, fascinated despite yourself. It's kind of beautiful, in a morbid way. Like some deadly form of embroidery.

"Your turn." He holds out the needle, and suddenly this doesn't seem so fascinating anymore. "Time to see if you've been paying attention."

Your hand definitely doesn't shake when you take it. Not even a little. And if it does? Well, that's between you and whatever poor bastard ends up needing your stitches someday.

You take a deep breath and try to copy J-Hope's movements. Your hands aren't nearly as steady as his, but he guides you with surprising patience, adjusting your grip here and the angle there. For someone so cranky, he's turning out to be a pretty decent teacher.

"Not completely terrible for a first try." The words sound almost like praise coming from him. "This kind of skill? Could mean the difference between life and death out there."

A soft beep cuts through the quiet, followed by the infirmary door swinging open.

Cool air rushes in, making goosebumps rise on your arms.

You don't need to look to know who it is—there's only one person whose presence makes the air feel this heavy, like the moment before rain.

Jeon walks in, all dark clothes and darker mood. His eyes find yours first, something unreadable flickering across his face before he turns to J-Hope.

"Looks like V didn't hold back," J-Hope says with a smirk.

Jeon just grunts, which seems to be his default response to everything.

"Sit." J-Hope points to a nearby chair like he's commanding a particularly stubborn dog. "I'll deal with you in a minute."

You try not to stare as Jeon drops into the chair, but it's hard to ignore how he fills up the space. Everything about him radiates tension—from the set of his jaw to the way his fingers tap against his thigh. The guy looks about as comfortable as a cat in water.

The contrast between them is almost funny—J-Hope moving around with his usual efficient calm while Jeon sits there emanating pure "don't touch me" energy. You catch a whiff of pine and mint when he shifts, and something in your chest does this weird little flip that you choose to ignore.

You try to focus on your suturing practice, but your eyes keep drifting to Jeon. It's weird seeing him like this—quiet, still, almost t̶a̶m̶e̶ docile. The great Chief of Tactical Assassinations, reduced to sitting in a medical chair waiting for J-Hope like some kind of obedient schoolboy.

He looks... different here. Less like the intimidating force of nature who uses you as paintball bait, more like someone who really, really doesn't want to be at the doctor's. His knee bounces slightly—probably the only sign he'll allow of his discomfort.

The door clicks shut behind J-Hope, and suddenly you're very aware that you're alone with Jeon. The silence feels heavy, broken only by the soft rustle of medical supplies and his measured breathing.

You force yourself to concentrate on the needle in your hand. These stitches aren't going to practice themselves, and the last thing you need is to look incompetent in front of him. But it's hard to focus when you can feel him there.

It's just so strange seeing him hold himself back like this. Usually his presence fills any room he's in, but now he seems almost... contained. Like he's trying to make himself smaller, less noticeable.

It doesn't work though—you're still hyper-aware of every tiny movement he makes.

The silence stretches until it feels like another person in the room. You've never been good with awkward silences, but starting a conversation with Jeon feels about as appealing as pulling teeth. Besides, what would you even say?

Thanks for using me as bait earlier, that was super fun?

"How's the ankle?"

His voice catches you off guard—low and quiet, missing that sharp edge he usually carries. For a second, you're not sure if you imagined it.

"It's... getting better," you manage, your voice too loud in the quiet room. "J-Hope knows what he's doing."

The corner of Jeon's mouth twitches up, and for a second he looks almost human. "Yeah, give that man a white coat and suddenly he thinks he runs the place."

There's this weird undertone of respect when he says it though. Like maybe he actually appreciates having someone who isn't afraid to boss him around. You get it —there's something weirdly comforting about J-Hope's no-nonsense attitude, even when he's being a grumpy dictator about your ankle.

"He definitely doesn't take shit from anyone." You find yourself smiling a little, because it's true. Even the mighty Jeon has to sit and wait his turn in here.

Something flickers across his face and he looks away quickly, like he just remembered he's supposed to be an intimidating gang leader, not someone who makes small talk about cranky doctors.

You go back to your stitching, trying to focus on the fake skin instead of how weird it feels to have an almost normal conversation with him. The silence creeps back in, but it's different now. Less like you're both waiting for the other to attack, more like... well, like two people just waiting for the doctor.

You try to focus on your stitching practice, but something feels off. There's a rustle that doesn't quite fit with the usual infirmary sounds—too careful, too measured.

When you glance up, you catch Jeon staring at... a pastry bag? One that definitely wasn't there when he first walked in. Or maybe it was and you were too distracted by his whole everything to notice.

He's looking down at it like it holds the secrets of the universe, brow furrowed in concentration. It's weird seeing the Chief of Tactical Assassinations, terror of rival gangs, looking almost t̶e̶r̶r̶i̶f̶i̶e̶d̶ uncertain about a paper bag.

What could possibly have the human hurricane so wrapped up in thought? The last time you saw him this intense, he was lining up a sniper shot. But now he's just... staring. At pastries.

Before you can ponder this mystery further, J-Hope bursts back in, arms loaded with enough medical supplies to patch up a small army. The sudden entrance makes Jeon flinch—just barely, but you catch it. His eyes snap up like he's been caught doing something wrong.

Then, in a move that feels almost panicked (if Jeon did panic, which he obviously doesn't), he thrusts the bag at J-Hope.

"For you." The words come out gruff and quick. His tattooed hand extends the bag like he's diffusing a bomb, gaze fixed somewhere over J-Hope's left shoulder.

J-Hope freezes mid-step, and honestly? Fair reaction. If this was V pulling something like this, it'd be normal—probably part of some elaborate prank. But Jeon? The same guy who treats medical check-ups like personal attacks? Bringing peace offerings?

"You know I don't even like croissants, right?" J-Hope stares at the bag like it might bite him. The disbelief in his voice makes you pause mid-stitch.

"It was the last one." Jeon crosses his arms, all defensive posture and clenched jaw.

J-Hope holds the pastry bag between two fingers like it's evidence in a crime scene. When he looks up at Jeon, his eyebrows disappear into his hairline. "What's the catch? Trying to bribe your way out of the physical?"

"What am I, V now?" Jeon's shrug carries enough attitude to fill the room. "No catch. Just thought I'd... you know." He waves vaguely at the bag, looking like every word physically pains him.

You focus very intently on your stitching practice, pretending you're not eavesdropping on whatever this weird interaction is. The silence stretches until J-Hope breaks it.

"Right..." He drags the word out like he's talking to a particularly suspicious child. "Since when do you do random acts of kindness?"

Something flickers across Jeon's face. His eyes meet yours for a split second, and your stomach does this weird flip that you choose to blame on hunger. The scent of pine gets stronger as his irritation builds.

"Since now, apparently." His voice could freeze hell over. "If you don't want it, give it to her. I don't give a shit."

J-Hope's eyebrows climb even higher as he turns to you, lips twitching. "Want a potentially poisoned croissant? I can test it first if you're feeling brave."

Your ears definitely perk up at the mention of croissant. After that sad excuse for breakfast this morning, you're practically going through withdrawal. The smell of butter and fresh pastry wafting from the bag is t̶o̶r̶t̶u̶r̶e̶ tempting.

"I'll risk it." You can't help but laugh a little. "Can't say no to a good croissant, even if it comes from suspicious sources."

Jeon's eyes find yours for a split second. Something colors his face—too quick to catch—before that familiar blank mask slides back into place. He doesn't say anything, but some of that rigid tension leaves his shoulders.

J-Hope passes you the bag, but his attention stays locked on Jeon like he's trying to solve a particularly frustrating puzzle. The pastry's still warm when you take it, and honestly? If it's poisoned, at least you'll die happy.

"Right then." J-Hope's voice goes stern. "Your turn, Mr. I-Can-Walk-It-Off. You're three months late for your check-up." He emphasizes each word like he's scolding a child. "Three months, Jeon."

Jeon responds with his signature grunt, finally hauling himself out of the chair. He moves to the medical bed a few meters away from you, and you can smell the pine notes slowly dissipating. Not that you're paying attention to how he smells. Obviously.

The infirmary suddenly feels smaller when Jeon steps into the medical bed area. There's something about the way he moves—all quiet power and deadly grace—that reminds you of his rank. Every single one of his steps looks calculated, like he's constantly ready for anything.

He shrugs off his leather jacket, and you try really hard not to stare. t̶r̶y̶ ̶b̶e̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶k̶e̶y̶ ̶w̶o̶r̶d̶ The movement is unfairly fluid, drawing attention to arms that definitely come from years of training. The kind of definition that makes you think he could probably lift you without breaking a sweat. (You already know he can)

Your eyes drift to his hands—the same ones you've seen wrapped around coffee cups or handling weapons, but never really looked at before. The infirmary's harsh lighting makes the tattoos on his wrists pop, intricate designs disappearing under his black t-shirt like secrets waiting to be discovered. His fingers are long and elegant despite their strength, decorated with simple silver and black rings that somehow make them look even more dangerous.

He grabs the hem of his shirt and—oh.

Oh.

The movement is so casual it's almost offensive, the way he just strips off his shirt like it's nothing. Like he doesn't know exactly what he's doing to your blood pressure right now.

A tattoo catches your eye, peeking above his waistband. "Devil never sleeps" inked in bold letters right above the waistband of his pants, and suddenly you're very interested in what that might mean. t̶h̶o̶u̶g̶h̶t̶s̶ ̶f̶o̶r̶ ̶l̶a̶t̶e̶r̶

Your gaze definitely doesn't trail up his torso. You absolutely don't notice the thin silver chain you've never seen before, probably always hidden under that stupid leather jacket. And you certainly don't catalog how the muscles in his chest look strong but not bulky, or how his abs are defined but natural-looking, the kind that come from actual fighting instead of just gym sessions.

And for some stupid reason the pine scent comes back, stronger, and you realize you might be staring. But honestly? If he's going to just casually strip in front of you, he can deal with the consequences. You're only human, after all.

You try to focus on your stitching practice. Really, you do. But there's something magnetic about the way his scars and tattoos map stories across his skin. Each mark feels like a chapter you shouldn't want to read but can't help being curious about. It's not just that he's t̶o̶o̶ ̶h̶o̶t̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶b̶e̶ ̶r̶e̶a̶l̶ physically impressive—it's the way he wears his battle wounds like armor.

Jeon doesn't seem to notice or care about your wandering eyes. He carries himself with this casual confidence that suggests being shirtless in the infirmary is just another weekday for him. He shifts a bit, settling on the edge of the medical bed.

You snap your attention back to your suture pad so fast you nearly stab yourself with the needle. This is not the time to appreciate how the fluorescent lights catch on his silver chain, or how his muscles shift when he—nope. Absolutely not. Back to stitching.

J-Hope transforms before your eyes, seemingly possessed by professional focus. He grabs his stethoscope with ease, moving toward Jeon like he's approaching any other patient. Not a deadly gang leader who could probably kill someone with his a snap of his fingers.

"Let's check that heart of yours first, Jeon." The words come out clinical, detached.

Jeon just nods, and it's weird seeing him this... compliant. His stormy presence seems to settle into something quieter.

When the stethoscope touches Jeon's chest, the room goes so quiet you could hear a pin drop. You definitely don't notice how the metal disc sits right above one of his tattoos, or how his breathing stays perfectly steady despite the cold touch.

"Heart sounds good, strong and regular." J-Hope moves the stethoscope, all business.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes because of course his heart's perfect too.

Stupid, perfect Jeon with his stupid, perfect everything.

Jeon stares straight ahead at some fascinating spot on the wall, the perfect picture of indifference. His chest rises and falls steadily under J-Hope's stethoscope, and you definitely don't notice how the muscles shift with each breath. Nope. Not at all.

"Deep breaths," J-Hope instructs, all business.

Jeon complies without a word. The movement makes his chest expand more noticeably, and you suddenly find your suturing practice absolutely fascinating.

Super interesting, these fake stitches. Totally worth your complete attention.

Except it's not.

Your hands are going through the motions, but your mind keeps wandering. The needle weaves in and out mechanically while you try really hard not to think about the way the infirmary lights catch on Jeon's silver chain, or how his jaw clenches slightly when J-Hope's stethoscope touches a cold spot.

You feel like you're intruding on something private, which is stupid because it's just a medical exam. But there's something weirdly intimate about watching someone like Jeon—who's usually wrapped in leather and attitude—sitting here half-naked and compliant.

The needle slips.

"Shit—" The sharp sting makes you jump.

A bright red bead of blood wells up on your fingertip, because apparently you can't even do basic stitching when you're t̶o̶o̶ ̶b̶u̶s̶y̶ ̶o̶g̶l̶i̶n̶g̶ slightly distracted.

"You okay over there?" J-Hope looks up from his examination.

You're about to brush it off when you feel it—Jeon's eyes on you. The weight of his gaze hits like a physical thing, dark and heavy and way too knowing. Like he can tell exactly why you stabbed yourself, and t̶h̶e̶ ̶t̶h̶o̶u̶g̶h̶t̶ ̶m̶a̶k̶e̶s̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶h̶o̶t̶ that's... interesting.

There's something in that look—something that makes your skin prickle and your breath catch.

Is he annoyed? Amused? Or maybe...

He turns away before you can figure it out, but the heat lingers on your skin like a brand.

Jeon grabs his shirt and pulls it back on in one smooth motion. You try not to notice how the fabric clings slightly before settling into place, or how his hair gets messed up for just a second before he runs his fingers through it. Just like that, the mask slides back on—Chief of Tactical Assassinations restored, that glimpse of something more human safely locked away again.

Your finger throbs, a tiny punishment for letting yourself get distracted.

t̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶i̶s̶ ̶w̶h̶y̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶c̶a̶n̶'̶t̶ ̶h̶a̶v̶e̶ ̶n̶i̶c̶e̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶s̶ Real professional, getting caught staring like some rookie. In this life, distractions get people killed. Though usually not by sewing needles.

J-Hope's already moving around the room, putting away his supplies. He definitely catches you trying to hide your pricked finger, because suddenly he's there, slapping a band-aid on it with more force than strictly necessary.

"Pay attention next time," he grumbles, but there's something almost fond in how annoyed he sounds. "These needles aren't toys."

Jeon's already heading for the door, leather jacket back in place. He moves like someone who can't wait to put as much distance between himself and this medical checkup as possible.

Can't really blame him—you'd probably bolt too if you had to deal with J-Hope's judgment this early in the morning.

He pauses at the door though, just for a second. Those dark eyes find yours one last time, and something in your chest does this weird little thing that has nothing to do with the pine and mint scent he leaves behind.

Then he's gone, and you're left wondering what kind of storms are brewing behind those gloomy eyes.

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xxanaduwrites · 11 months ago

Text

much ado about nothing, major

i. bubbles & battle scars

gif creds @sakuragifs !

pairing: john “bucky” egan x (ofc) maude “blue” bluell

warnings: this story will contain mature themes, descriptions of injury, blood, sexual content, swearing, as well as, physical and mental illness. proceed with caution.

— i: mentions of injury, death, & puking. (pretty much just maude, bubbles, & croz being a dynamic trio, total bestie vibes — & then there’s john. he’s just there haha)

word count: 3.4k

there must be something or nothing at all

July 24, 1943 was the date — a date marked in the history books as the start of the Hamburg attacks, and in the journal of Nurse Maude Bluell, an inclusion of her very first introduction to one Major John Egan.

It was just past 0900 hours when the doors swung open to the infirmary rather unexpectedly. Bluell was organizing a new shipment of supplies, placing gauze, bandages, and wraps alike in their respective places, Lottie wa re-evaluating the health passes for the men who were flying today — confirming that they has passed inspection so to speak, and Q — well Q was reading newspaper cutouts of her favorite gossip columns, courtesy of her girlfriends back home. A red cherry sucker laid limply in her mouth as she took in the recent excepades of the Hollywood starlets she fawned over.

For Q, it was better for her to dive her nose into the latest gossip than worry about a certain Lieutenant she had tethered a liking too. A certain Lieutenant Curtis Biddick — "Curt" for short — who was scheduled to fly today. Q would deny the prospect of liking the New Yorker with the heavy accent, but it wasn't deniable to Lottie and Maude who had seen the Lieutenant saunter in every morning just to talk to her at the nurse's station. He used the need for a sucker to subside his "apparent" drops in blood sugar as his excuse of choice.

Lottie reprimanded her every time, claiming that they were only for the patients, not for the healthy airmen — hiding the sugary sweet lollipops from her colleague.

But, Lottie's attempts proved to be fruitless as Q would find them at every turn in every single hiding spot, opening a sucker of her own just to push Lottie's buttons.

And, she was doing that just now — not just to bother the blonde, but to also hold some sort of reminder of Biddick, that he was here with her as much as she was there with him — the cherry red sucker that mirrored the very same shade of her hair — tucked safely in the pocket of his flight uniform for a victory treat.

Alas — in other words — there wasn't much to do until their men came flooding back in waves.

Until there was.

The sound of a door swinging open broke the dead silence that pervaded the medical unit. The three women immediately dropped everything they were doing once they saw the sight of Colonel Harding sauntering in with Lieutenant Payne following suit — under the haven of a thick blanket, accompanied by the the arm of one of his fellow airmen.

Or well — Maude and Lottie did.

Susan was trying to consume the last line of the article in front of her as fast as she could. She didn't want to be left wondering what Bettie Davis was doing nowadays in the middle of assessing what was to come.

Lottie, being under the wing of Doctor Stover longer than the two nurses beside her, did not hesitate to meet Harding half way. "Good morning, Colonel'' she greeted, pressing her clip board of names close to her chest as a means of suppressing the shock of it all. It was rather unusual to see any of the airmen, let alone the Colonel until the conclusion of a mission, especially when every health pass had been confirmed and processed.

"Morning. Ladies," Harding replied to the three nurses present respectfully as he always did, curt, and to the point. "Lieutenant Payne is coming down with something and will no longer be navigating today's mission," he explained. "You ladies mind checking up on him?"

"Oh not at all, sir!" Lottie chirped, setting her clipboard down and immediately swinging into action. She nodded over at her colleagues, urging them to take the clearly pale and ill Lieutenant from the hold of the corporal present.

It didn't take long for Bluell and Q to get the Lieutenant situated and comfortable in a bed with brand new sheets — pressed and floral scented. Maude felt lucky and rather grateful that they had completed that task in time for such a situation to occur. Q was still quite busy with her cherry sucker while simultaneously taking the man's blood pressure, so Bluell decided to do the evaluating — not that she minded anyways. It was refreshing to see a man in front of her who wasn't bleeding out and barely coherent. She could already tell without really knowing that Payne would be just fine. That she wouldn't be losing another one of their men just yet, and that made the weight in her chest subside with the sweetest relief.

"Lieutenant Payne," Maude enunciated carefully, smiling fondly at the poor man in front of her. It was obvious from the sight in front of her that illness had racked his bones. The color was draining from his skin, a dull gray taking over, a line of sweat was creasing his brow, and his eyes drooped heavily doused with a glossy sheen. "Please, if you could tell me what seems to be going on. How are you feeling?"

"Well, quite shitty," he laughed dryly, yet a smile still managed to grace his features and prove to be rather contagious to Maude's expression in seconds flat. "I was fine. I mean, I thought I was. 'Twas until I was propped up ready to fly, feeling like I could hurl if I even moved a muscle. Major Egan shut that down real quick though. Got me a sub with Croz."

And there it was, a title attached to the name of a man Maude Bluell would have scorched into the back of her mind soon enough. Yet, now – now in that very moment, her unfamiliarity with that very same man would simply fly over her head. Instead, she would find a tying point to her patient in the traces of his explanation, one that made her eyes light up in genuine interest. "Lieutenant Crosby?" She asked while dropping the back of her hand to Payne's forehead, inspecting the extent of his temperature."

"Yuh-huh," he nodded

At the same time as Q announced "one-nineteen over seventy," but it really sounded like, "nun-eye-dee ova even-yee," with that sucker still tucked dedicatedly in her mouth.

Maude's hand dropped from Payne's forehead then, seeming pleased to know that he wasn't burning up as bad as she expected – definitely warm but more mildly speaking – and his blood pressure was relatively normal. The wheels were already turning in her head, coming to the conclusion that he merely had some sort of bug. But, she couldn't really come to one until Doctor Stover came to access the man himself.

"Lemme guess," Payne began, getting Maude's attention after she instructed Q to get the Lieutenant a glass of water. If she got his prognosis right, he would need to remain hydrated to subside the urge to vomit. "He's here quite often ain't –" Payne's words seemed to lodge in his throat then, his features twisting just the same.

The clear indication of his illness brought Nurse Bluell to flight mode and she picked up the bucket adjacent to his bed in mere seconds. "Let it out, Lieutenant," she urged as she situated it on his lap just in time for him to spill out the contents into the bin instead of his bed. He did just that, and Bluell did not hesitate to keep the bucket steady and rub his back in a soothing motion, hoping to ease the strain in his back from achy muscles.

Once he was done, he slumped back against the headboard – his eyes appearing glossier than they had before. He was spent, but that did not stop him from mumbling out his appreciation. "Thank you Nurse – Nurse?" He trailed off, a crease forming on his sweaty forehead with a curious sort of confusion.

"Bluell. Nurse Bluell," she introduced herself, moving the bucket off the bed, tying up the old one, and replacing it with a brand new one. "But you can just call me Maude."

"Maude. The powerful battler," a droopy smile spanned across his face, recalling the meaning behind the name of the nurse in front of him.

"Yes, but –" her cheeks dusted pink, and she looked away from him as she got rid of the previous trash close by. "Not me. All you – All you boys."

"Doubt that." Q brought over the water then and he thanked her kindly before taking a gentle sip. "Call me Bubbles."

"Pardon, Lieutenant?" Bluell stood straight then, completely taken aback by his sudden admission. She took a deep breath and sucked back the urge to laugh.

It wasn't uncommon by any means for nicknames to be a staple pass of courtesy and comradely around base. It served as an attempt to distinguish the tension of a deeply set reality and also comouflague identity to foreign forces. Like Charolette and Susan who replied to Lottie and Susie Q or just plain old Q. It was common knowledge. And she had found herself giving into such knowledge as she adjusted to the shortened form of her surname — replying to Blue more often than not. But, Bubbles. Bubbles? She hadn't heard something quite like that before.

"Bubbles. That's what they call me. Ain't heroic by any means. You can ask Croz the next time he's here, 'M sure he'll tell yuh," he elaborated.

A chuckle escaped her then, a genuine smile enveloping in her cheeks in a way that almost felt foreign. She couldn't remember the last time she smiled – really smiled since she'd arrived on base. "Quite heroic to me,." She flattened her hands across the edges of the mattress, making sure he was tucked into the sheets comfortably and then she fluffed up the back of his pillow for me good measure. "Should rest up now, Lieutenant. I'll be here if you need anything. Please don't hesitate to call us over," She affirmed, and in a sudden newfound sense of confidence or maybe it was simply just the comradery, she found herself adding, "that's an order, Bubbles."

Bubbles – still poorly, shivering, and pale as a ghost – managed a light laugh from his strained throat as Maude left the man be. "You got it, Maude"

Maude's spirits appeared to be more pleasant than usual as she busied herself in the next coming hours. Her conversation with Lieutenant Payne – or Bubbles if you will – subsided the nerves that usually rattled her in deep anticipation of what was to come. However, knowing that Lieutenant Crosby was navigating today still kept her worried.

Would his stomach be okay?

Would the natural herbs she recommended to brew in his tea ease him?

Those thoughts did not fail to plague her mind throughout the day, but she was grateful to have some distraction in the task of caring for Bubbles. She made sure to keep an eye on him as much as she could, so much so, that it started to concern Nurse Charlotte Reign and Susan Quinn who felt as if previous patterns from the young nurse were resurfacing. Patterns that were brought into light the very same day an airmen died in her arms for the very first time.

Yet, Maude felt fine – well, as fine as one could be in the circumstances placed upon her. She felt like she could breathe again the moment the boys returned from the Trondheim mission in the later afternoon. It had proved to be successful – and even more so in the hands of one Lieutenant Crosby who was currently at Bubble's bedside. With a chair situated over, he not only came to check on his best friend, but also report on the mission.

Maude was finishing up wrapping a flier's burn wounds adjacent to Lieutenant Payne when she unintentionally overheard the conversation at hand. "I mean the flak, it came in so hot. I didn't even think about it when I put it on. It – It must of froze, but then these chunks, they start rolling down my forehead, I think 'holy mackerel crosby, holy mackerel, you've been hit!"

"Of course you would narrate your own death." Bubbles laughed lightly at his friend's retelling.

She secured the wrap tightly and comfortably and practically repeated the earlier lines she had said to Bubbles. She was starting to become more and more accustomed to her script, finding it more and more natural as she annunciated each word within passing days.

"Well, I mean I could make overthinking into an Olympic sport." Lieutenant Crosby joked just as Maude appeared at Bubbles bedside. She smiled at the two men, acknowledging them as she refilled Payne's water cup without interrupting their conversation.

"I've been puking so much today, I'm starting to catch up to you. Ask Maude." He nodded to the nurse next to them.

"Evening Maude." Crosby greeted the nurse. "Hope Bubbles here ain't giving you too much flak.”

"No more than you have." She just about pulled the man's chain with that one, making Bubbles erupt in laughter.

"Hey, 'snot my fault, Nurse." Crosby held a hand to his chest as if she had wounded him with his words, but the knowing smirk on his face proved otherwise.

"Did you try the tea?" She asked Croz, handing the cup of water over to Bubbles. His color was starting to come back. He looked better than this morning but he still needed to stay hydrated if he was gonna get back in the skies anytime soon.

"Nah. Next time when I actually know I'm flying I will," he sent a look over to Bubbles, only pushing his friend's buttons for fun. "Thanks Bubbles."

"Anytime." He said laughing against the rim of his cup. He took one last sip before Maude placed it back on the side table for him.

It seemed like Croz wasn't gonna let that one slide so easily. "You know I washed my hair twice, I still can't get the smell out." He leaned over his friend, practically shoving his hair in the fellow Lieutenant's face."You wanna smell? Yeah, jump in."

"No. No!" Bubbles tensed up then.

"Yeah, Come on." Croz pushed on.

Maude couldn't help but laugh at the playful side of these men. Men who still managed to let their inner kid shine through all the horror and terror they had ensued in the skies.

"Get – get away. I will puke on you! Yuh gonna have to wash it out." Bubbles threatened, trying to push Croz away.

And then like a burst of unexpected flax, everything shifted.

For not only Croz who immediately stiffened back in his seat – putting on a serious and professional front, but for Maude who – for lack of her own sense of understanding – found herself freezing just the same, but for a whole other reason.

"There he is," a deep, firm, yet some-what carefree voice broke the ice within her. And there he was, one Major Egan looking and sounding like one of those Hollywood starlets in Q's paper clipping — just stepping out of a film in the cinema. And if he hadn't had a small cut just under his right eye, he could have passed as a man who hadn't just returned from an intense mission across the skies. Clean cut, pressed in his uniform, curls styled and gelled back to perfection, with his flight jacket wrapped around his arms. Arms that held a strong hand planted against the edge of the foot of Bubbles bed. "How you doing Bubbles?" He asked.

Maude hadn't realized she was staring at the six foot two bulk of a man in front of her until Bubbles spoke up. "Never better, sir."

"That's good." And then his eyes landed on her, so intense, she suddenly wondered if he had become even taller than he was a minute ago. Feeling caught, she looked away and busied herself with the water cup on Bubbles nightstand to give herself something to do. Would the Major report back to Doctor Stover that she was incompetent and unfit to take care of his men? Lucky for Maude, his gaze broke away from hers the moment she turned around. "And I was looking for you," He said to Croz.

The chair beneath Croz creaked in protest as he stood up to be at the Major's level. "I'm sorry, Major."

"What for?" Major Egan inquired loosely.

"I – I didn't give PRs the whole flight back, I messed up the rendezvous – "

"I know. I know. The radio silence really threw off those Jerries. It's that and hitting the deck." Egan affirmed. With the conversation becoming more detailed, Maude felt out of place and rather rude for overhearing. Yet, the next words that came out of the Major's mouth not only took Croz and Bubbles by surprise, but Maude too. Any previous contemplations seemed to dissipate the moment Egan said, “Now, Harding, he couldn't be more impressed by you so, I'm transferring you to Blakely's crew full time," and then, " Bubbles, you get better, we'll find you a new fort. And Croz, we gotta give you an actual nickname."

"They call him Bing back home." Bubbles added into the conversation just as Maude urged him to take another sip. "More?" He asked, and she simply nodded as she turned back into her previous position– her view of all three men near her resurfacing.

"Bing Crosby? That's just lazy, unless you can sing." Major Egan put in his two cents, and his eyes gleamed when he asked, "Can you sing?"

"I–I ca –" Croz tethered.

"Like a donkey." Bubbles confirmed with zero ounces of hesitation, truly on a roll at deflating Croz's ego today without letting an ounce of illness ruin the fun.

"No, no – not a note, sir."

"Ah, I'm no good either, but I'm loud and hell if you can commit with enough enthusiasm, it really don't matter." And this was when Maude would come to learn of the singing shenanigans that came with one Major Egan. If only she knew then that those shenanigans would very well start up something alright.

The shorter Lieutenant and the taller Major clapped hands then in parting – a shake of sealed establishments and confirmations, proving that they were on the same page. "I'll see you at the Club Croz. I'm buying," the one with height told him, referring to the same exact club Lottie and Q would be dragging Bluell against her will in just a few short hours. "Goodnight Bubbles."

"Sir."He croaked between sips and finally handed the cup back to Maude for good.

"Goodnight, sir." Croz bid farewell. When the Major was out of earshot could Maude breathe, and Croz seemed to be too because he was back to bantering as he commented, "He thinks my nickname is lazy."

Another patient called her over then, stealing her away from the two men she had found herself laughing along with, yet a part of her felt grateful for the sudden diversion – especially now, after the Major's interruption. She couldn't explain it – couldn't even compartmentalize it exactly, but something had shifted inside her the moment he had stepped foot into the infirmary. An instinctive feeling of sorts — awfully hard to pinpoint. It hurt her head too much trying to think about it, so much so, she momentarily wondered if she was coming down with the same exact virus as Bubbles.

She wasn't.

But, she knew it was something, but what was it?

That — she didn't know.

Yet, something deep inside her – against her better judgment – told her that she needed to know. So as Croz passed by and bid her a farewell of his own, she knew what she had to do. And when the girls pitched going out to the Club again tonight, practically begging her in their shared quarters — Lottie using Q's obvious need for a distraction with Curt's lack of a return — did she give into their demise.

Was there really much ado about one night on the town?

Lottie and Q wouldn't think so, and Major Egan – well he wouldn't think so either.

the way in which she is already whipped without "knowing" is so real.

+ Q — curt and susie got me giggling & kicking my feeties !!!

also, for important context purposes, the gifs in the beginning is how i imagine bucky diverting his gaze from eyeing miss. maude ;) sir, we all know you were LOOKING — respectfully!

p.s.: i love bubbles & croz so bad, ugh my HEART <3

ANYWAYS.....

more to come sooner than you think. lemme know what ya think so far? feedback is much appreciated as this is BRAND NEW. this is also my very FIRST historical-esce fic so my apologies if there is any inaccuracies, but it do be my own fiction twist anyways haha.

love ya'll a mil, smoochies!

— xanadu

tag list:

@rubberpsyche

@precious-little-scoundrel

@major-mads

@luminouslywriting

@justheretoreadthxxs

@karmasloverrr

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lovelywritinglady · 2 years ago

Note

hi can i recwest a uzui x reader where uzui have a argment and gat a divors and yn is pregnet years later when the child and he rillast that it is his child and has a tak whif yn and trase to fics everifing

if you canpleas do thak you and have a grat day

I’d love to!💜

Mistakes

Tengen Uzui x fem!Reader

You and Tengen got into a heated argument after a demon hunt gone wrong. He says some extremely hurtful words. You decide to leave him because you know you don’t deserve that. What you didn’t know was that you were pregnant with his child. Angst, slight fluff, Tengen being a dick, mentions of pregnancy, cursing, and other mature themes.

Your pov

"You nearly got us killed, what are you and idiot?" My husband Tengen yelled at me.

"It was an accident, I'm sorry!" I yelled back

"You cannot afford accidents like this Y/N!" He roared stepping closer to me causing me to flinch slightly.

"I'm sorry." I whispered

"Sorry won't even begin to cover the fucking stupitity of your actions! You have no right being a demon slayer with how dumb you are. I can't believe I married someone like you!" he yelled looking me dead in the eye with fury.

"Fuck you!" I snapped as my anger began rising as tears filled my eyes.

"Real mature Y/N, get the hell out of my house until you can learn some respect and basic combat moves." he said as he began walking away as I began to sob.

"Where the hell am I going to stay! Tengen, I'm your wife!' I cried walking towards him.

"Hell if I care, just get your things and don't come back until you aren't so incopitent." he snapped walking away into another room.

I stood there unable to think, feel, or understand the situation. My body moved on its own and next thing I knew I was out of mt home with a bag packed walking only god knows where. It was getting dark, but I didn't care all I knew is that I was no longer wanted, needed, or loved by the man that swore he would protect me and love me no matter what. So much for promises. I kept walking until the sun began to rise, my thoughts much clearer now and my tears no longer flowing down my face. I decided to go live with my older sister, Misa, who lives on the other side of the country. Her and I have always been close, and I just hoped I would never see that asshole again.

One Month Later

I feel unbelievebly sick, as every morning and evening I spill my guts out. I have an uncontroable hunger and yet anytime I try to eat something I feel once again that I want to throw up. I feel miserable not just physically, but mentally too. Despite his words, I still love my husband. He use to be my everything, but I suppose I was never his. He claimed that he couldn't believe that he married me and just thinking about those poisonus words make my body ache once more. Tears I try not to spill came fourth with so much eagerness that I had no time to stop them. I hated myself for crying over him, but I suppose I was really crying for the man he use to be. I knew in my heart that I would always love him, but now I can never be with someone who so easily made me feel like my very existence meant nothing. I heard a faint knocking that pulled me out of my thoughts as the sweet voice of my sister filled the room.

"How are you feeling this morning, Y/N?" Misa asked as she sat next to me putting her hand on my forhead.

"Not great." I sighed smiling at her wiping away my tears.

"Y/N, I really think we should get you a doctor. This has been going on too long." She suggested taking her hand off my head.

"I think your right Misa." I sighed

"I didn't want to say anything to you, but I really think you're pregnant." she said in a whisper

"What!" I whisper yelled

"You're showing signs and don't worry if you are. I will always take care of you." Misa reassured

"Lets hope I'm not then." I said nervously.

Two days later the doctor came, she was a sweet older lady that had a warm smile and a small figure. She came into my room and inspected me in all they ways she could. My nerves at this point were all consuming as I really did not want to be pregnant, especially since I knew who the father was.

"My dear you have no fever and no true illness. What you are expierencing, is early signs of pregnancy." she said with a smile

"I see, I guess my sister was right then." I stated sadly

"Are you not happy, I'm sure your husband will be." she stated with a concerned look on her face.

"My husband no longer wants me." I answered doing my best not to cry once more.

"Oh, I am so sorry, my dear." She said grabbing my hand.

"Thank you, I just have no idea what to do now." I said honestly

"That's just something you're going to have to figure out for yourself. At the end of the day you need to do what's best for your child." She spoke seriously

"Yes, I suppose you're right." I sighed

"Of course I'm right dear, I am a doctor." she joked

"Hey, is everything alright in here?" my sister asked as she knocked on the door.

"It will be." I whispered touching my belly.

Three Years And Six Months Later

My son, Kei, is now nearly three years old. He's a rowdy child that seems to always be obsessed with what is going on outside. Whether is rainy, snowy, or sunny, he's always begging to go outside. I can't complain though as I love nature and seeing his little cheeks puffed up when he askes is always so cute. Kei looks a little bit like his father as he got most of his features from me. His eyes are the same color as my ex husband and his personality matches. His hair is a lighter shade of h/c, which gave me relief. I still haven't told Tengen about our son, nor do I want to. Part of me feels selfish, but part of me doesn't want to subject him to a man like Tengen. Although, when they do meet, I hope he is kind to his son. Kei is too sweet and kind to have to be around a father that verbally abuses him. I just couldn't live with myself if I let my baby be hurt by him.

In these three years, I haven't had a full time job. Mostly they have been part time jobs and my sister has been providing for me and my son. She claimes that since she doesn't have a family that this is no trouble, but Kei is old enough where I can start working full time. It took a long time to find job, but one day my sister came into the house screaming that she found a job that was perfect for me.

"Y/N, this is a landscaping job." she nearly yelled in my ear

"Huh, that's a little different than the jobs that I'm looking for, but hey if they are hiring then I'll take it." I said confifently

"Mama what's going on?" Kei asked as he walked into the room with a sleepy expression.

"I'm sorry baby, I didn't mean to wake you up." I cooed opening my arms for my son. He then picked up the pace and ran into my arms crushing me with all of his nearly three year old strength.

"Its okay." he sighed playing with his fingers with a small tired pout

"Your mama just found a job, Kei." my sister said with a smile at her nephew

"Okay." he said disinterested. I smiled at this, he's so small and perfect and despite the fact that my pregnancy was not the easiest, it was worth it.

Two weeks later I found myself walking towards my new job. It was a sunny day and part of myself wished Kei was here to enjoy it with me. I can almost hear his voice calling my name begging me to play with him. I was lucky to have been blessed with him. My thoughts of my perfect child came to a halt as the gates of the house I would be working at came into view. Taking a deep breath I began walking to what I thought was the front door. This property was absolutely beautiful. Everything seemed like it was perfect, not even a pebble out of place. It was a calming place that seemed to inspire peace. For some reason this place looked oddly familiar and it only now hit me that this was the place where the master lived. Tengen had taken me here years ago when he became hashira while I was just starting to become a demon slayer. Before I left, I was one rank away from being hashira. I thought about training again, but now that I have my son I felt it was irresponsible. Plus I could never leave him.

"You must be Y/N." The master suddenly said and it made me wonder how long he was there for.

"Yes sir, its very nice to meet you. Thank you for having me." I said bowing to show respect to him.

"Of course. I am aware of your situation and am happy to give you work here." He said with a smile." Come with me and I'll show you the grounds.

Two weeks later

Working at this mansion feels peaceful and the work is harder than I expected, but the pay is well worth it. Today I raked, cut grass, and tended to the luscious gardens. The sun beamed down on me giving me a slight headache. Thankfully the day was almost over for me so that I could go home to my son and my sister. Kei has been begging me to take him here ever since my sister told him that the hashira train here. I have been reluctant of it since seeing Tengen might be a possiblilty and seeing a child in my arms was a conversation that I simply did not want to have yet, even though I knew one day it would happen. I heard light footsteps approach me. turning my head I saw one of the other workers and smiled at him. He was a kind man that was around my age and he and I had talked a few times.

"Hey there, how's the work today?" He questioned with a sweet smile.

"Same as always although its a little hotter than usual." I responded

"Yeah, but I like it when its hot because I know that cooler weather is around the corner." he said with a content smile

"That would be nice." I chuckled

"Oh, you should know that the hashira will be here tomorrow." he said seriously

"Well, I'll make sure to make myself scarce." I said trying to mask my nervousness.

"Don't, all you need to do is smile and show them respect." He smiled

"Will do." I laughed standing up.

"Well I will see you tomorrow and tell your son I said hi." he smirked

"I'll make sure to tell him, see you tomorrow." I bowed

I watched him leave with a fake smile on my face. As soon as he was out of sight I sighed as my stomach throbbed with uncomfortable uneasiness as I began waking to the shed to put my tools away with my head hung low. I was no where okay with the fact that Tengen might be be here tomorrow. I remembered that his main goal when we were married was to become a Hashira. It was even mine once upon a time, but I want cup out to be one. I thought that maybe I should call in sick, but no one would believe that. Even if they did, I’d feel too guilty about it. The best thing to do was to avoid seeing him and focus on my work. If I keep my head down and not do any quick movements, then he won’t see me, hopefully. My thoughts were completely consumed with my nerves that I didn’t even register that I had bumped into someone until I heard someone speaking.

“Hey watch where you walk, alright.” The voice snapped

“Forgive me, I wasn’t looking.” I said frantically bowing as to show respect and forgiveness.

“Y/N?” The voice questioned lowing its tone. I then stood up and as my eyes met with the stranger I immediately tended up. My breath hitched and my stomach dropped into the ground. The one and only Tenge Uzui stood before me in all of his flashy glory.

“Uhh, you gonna say anything?” He joked as his eyes raked over my body.

“Um hi.” I stuttered slightly unsure of what the hell to even do. And I tended even more so when his body came crashing into mine in a bone crushing hug. I could feel his urgency and I almost allowed myself to met into his arms. But I couldn’t because I knew it wasn’t right.

“I missed you.” He mumbled into my hair. “I’m so sorry Y/N, you didn’t deserve that.” He cried.

“I know.” I said monotone still unsure what to do. Do I tell him about our son or do I keep my mouth shut and pretend like any of this is okay?

“Where have you been?” He questioned breaking the hug but still standing close. I looked up at him and sighed.

“Here and there, but mostly I’ve been living with my sister.” I said honestly. I really couldn’t lie to this man he’s really good at sporting liars. As much as I hated him, I really didn’t feel like lying to him.

“Ahh so that’s where you’ve been. I though your sister moved away from here.” He said curiously.

“She was going to, but she decided to stay.” I responded trying not to show too much emotion.

“Guess I should’ve looked there.” He joked

“You looked for me?” I questioned as I raised an eyebrow.

“Of course I did you’re my wife and I love you.” He scoffed as though he was offended I would be surprised by that.

“I just thought you wouldn’t care.” I mumbled

“Of course I care.” Tengen sighed

“Well you sure as hell didn’t act like it then.” I snapped

“You’re right, I didn’t I was too hard on you. You made a simple mistake. Hell I’ve made mistakes too. Making mistakes in this line of work is never good, but no one died. I should’ve been easier on you and I’m sorry.” He spoke. His eyes were pleading with mine saying silent apologies.

“Thank you for apologizing, but I can’t forgive you right now. You made me feel like I was nothing and I’m not just going to forgive that easily. I know one day I will, but I just can’t now.” I whispered as tears threatened my eyes.

“That’s understandable, I just hope one day that we can be together again. I miss you and honestly you’re the best aspect of life.” He said with a longing gaze.

“I’m not sure about that. That might take a long time. I don’t exactly trust you.” I spoke honestly.

“Fair enough.” He sighed. I reluctantly decided that I should just rip the bandaid off. Kei was his son and as much as I hated to admit it, Tengen was honest about his apologies. That man doesn’t half ass anything. So I thought this might be the time.

“Look Tengen I-“Just as I was about to tell him the screeching voice of my child filled my ears and I knew I was fucked.

“Mama!” Kei screeched as he ran straight towards me crushing me into a hug. He nuzzled his head into my thigh and despite how nervous I was I smiled at how cute my baby was.

“We have a child.” I finished with an awkward smile. Tengen stood there stiff and unmoving which was strange for him. I had never seen him tense up like this ever and I began to regret not going home sooner.

“Mama who’s this and why is he so tall.” Kei questioned waking up to Tengen. “Hey, you okay?” He said as he poked Tengens hand.

“Ummm.” Tengen said still shocked at the fact that Kei, his son, was standing right there. Matching pink eyes and all.

“Ummm?” Kei questioned craning his head to the side. “That’s a weird name.” Kei said in disgust.

“Baby this is Tengen Uzui and he’s a hashira. And he’s also your father.” I said trying to stay as calm and collected as possible.

“You’re my dad.?” Kei asked Tengen with cute excited smile on his cubby face.

“Yeah, I guess I am kid.” Tengen whispered crouching down and pulling Kei towards him in a loving him. “I’m your dad.” Tengen cried.

I began to shed a few tears at how cute this meeting was. I felt slightly bad that I didn’t tell Tengen about our son, but I had good reasons not to. I’m just so glad that he seems to be a better and nicer man. My thoughts then came to a haunt as I noticed my sister wasn’t here nor was was neighbor that Kei likes to hang out with. Meaning he came here alone.

“Kei honey, did you walk here alone.” I questioned with my hands on my hips.

“Umm no.” He quickly said.

“Kei answer your mother honestly.” Tengen said sternly but not too much as to scare the child.

“Yeah okay I came here by myself. But I really missed you!” Kei cried quickly to defend himself

“I missed you too, but you need to wait until I get home.” I sighed looking at how adorable my son looked with a pout.

“Okay.” He said reluctantly. Smiling at my son hugging his father brought peace to me. And I then decided to do something that would bring us all together.

“Tengen, would you like to join us for dinner?” I questioned still looking at the cute scene before me.

“Absolutely I would!” He exclaimed standing up and picking up our son, swinging him in the air.

“Yay!” Kei screeched

Making eye contact with Tengen I have him a small smile. His eyes looked relaxed and happy and I’m glad that he found out about or son. He then came up to me smiling as well.

“Y/N thank you for allowing me to be with him. I will do by best to be the father he deserves and hopefully one day the man you deserve if that’s what you’d like.” He spoke looking at me with hope in his eyes.

“Thank you, I’m sure you will. And for that second bit only time can tell.” I joked

“Sounds good to me. Alright shall we go?” Tengen suggested

“Yeah, I wanna show you my room!” Kei said

“I bet it’s the flashiest room ever.” Tengen said matching Kei’s energy.

“It sure is!” I exclaimed content about the situation that I was in. But I wondered something.

“Hey why are you here early?” I asked Tengen

“The master told me to come early.” He spoke

“Why?” I asked

“No idea, but something tells me this was the reason.” He spoke softly

“Maybe.” I responded shaking my head at the thought that my new found boss could be so kind.

We walked to the house as Kei held Tengens hand as well as he could. While the adults caught up on the years and for the first time in a long time I felt happy to be near Tengen.

Thank you so much for reading💜 Thank you to whoever requested this! Sorry it took longer than expected.

Please fell free to comment, repost, and request.

Click here to see what I’ll write for and HERE for my master list.

•I do NOT own any characters except y/n and any original characters•

-L.W.L

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rutilation · 1 year ago

Text

youtube

This opening is replete with symbolism.

Flower language has been a recent fascination of mine.

Do you want to make my new hyperfixation your problem? If so, then let's take a deep dive into the first opening before the new one airs tomorrow.

Before I start, here are a couple of things to keep in mind.

While the use of flower language in this show mostly lines up with Japanese hanakotoba, there are still a number of flowers here that hold particular significance within Chinese culture, and thus have additional meanings that don't line up with those from Japan. I’ll be mentioning them alongside the Japanese meanings where I deem it relevant.

The following will contain light spoilers of content from the novels/manga which has not been animated at the time of writing. I'll try to be vague and sparing with it, but there are a few flowers I can't discuss without them.

Past the title card, the opening begins with eight blooming flowers dancing through the frame in rapid succession. These represent the storylines covered by the first cour of the anime in order of appearance, and each can be found in the episode(s) they signify. From the top:

Rhododendron: This plant is all over the first two episodes, so I'm going to cover its appearances before delving into its meaning. In episode one, there are two shots of the buds of this plant, one as Lihua gives birth, and then again as the doctor examines her baby. They're finally shown in full bloom as one of her ladies disregards the branch Maomao used to warn of the toxic makeup. In the following episode, Gyokuyou has seemingly taken a liking to the flower that saved her daughter's life, and a few clusters can be seen in a vase during several shots before Maomao uses them as an example of a seemingly innocuous plant that could cause accidental poisoning, and indeed, if you look closely at the background during the scene with the soldiers, you can see what appear to be rhododendron shrubs. There are actually quite a few different possible meanings for the many granular varieties of Rhododendrons/azaleas. Luckily, the characters said the name of the plant out loud for me: shakunage. So, this is Rhododendron subg. Hymenanthes. In hanakotoba it means dignity and majesty, but also, on account of its poison, danger and caution. Those last two meanings clearly line up with its ominous usage in these first episodes, growing and maturing as the babies grew sicker. But in addition to their function as a warning of danger, I think there's a case to be made that they also represent Gyokuyou herself. As I stated earlier, she starts keeping them after the first episode, and Hongniang later starts growing the closely-related azaleas in the jade pavilion as well. As for how its meanings apply to her, Gyokuyou is regal, magnanimous, and never loses her composure (unless it's at Jinshi's expense lol,) but she's also described by Gaoshun as shrewd and cautious, being unwilling to hire any lady she doesn't absolutely trust, and constantly gleaning information to send back to her family. These all fit with the dual meanings of rhododendron. In Chinese culture, rhododendrons and azaleas represent womanhood and passion, as well as home and a desire for homecoming.

Cotton rose: A type of hibiscus, this represents Fuyou, decorating both her person and her chambers in episode 3. It means 'delicate beauty' and 'graceful lover.' I think these are referring to both her skill in dancing, as well as her affectation of frailty and neuroticism. As far as I could dig up, its unique tendency to change color based on the time of day doesn't have particular bearing on its meaning in either Chinese or Japanese culture, but the story itself uses it as a metaphor for Fuyou hiding her passion, will, and cunning behind a wallflower exterior.

Balloon flower: In hanakotoba, it represents undying love, sincerity, and grace. These grow in the crystal pavilion, adorn the iconography of Lihua's furniture, and likely inform her blue and violet color scheme. Its last two descriptors gesture towards Lihua's style and personality. She's elegant and staid, but she also takes everything quite seriously, and wears her heart on her sleeve. As for the undying love element, I see that as alluding to her love for her son, her agony at his passing, and her hopes of reclaiming that love again through having another child.

Violet: This one actually tripped me up for the longest time. The flowers in the opening looked like hostas to me, but no matter how closely I looked at the backgrounds in this show, I couldn’t find anything along those lines. Eventually though, I caught on that these must be the violets from episode five, even if they’re a different color from those shown in the episode. And also droopier. Anyway, violets mean humility, sincerity, and ‘a little bit of happiness.’ In the episode proper, they are crushed underfoot as Maomao narrates about the lengths she had to go to keep herself safe while growing up in the red-light district, illustrating how even the modest aspirations of an ordinary peasant are in perpetual danger in such a cutthroat environment.

Chinese aster: Daisies and asters are my least favorite flowers to identify. They all look the same. As such, I’m a little less confident about this one, but I think it’s a Chinese aster. The leaves and buds look similar, and the context in which it appears in episode six suits its meaning. As Lishu’s ladies disparage her so-called pickiness, a shot of this flower opens the episode. While the Chinese aster’s meaning changes based on color, white in particular means ‘please believe me.’ I think that speaks for itself

Toad lily: This appears twice during episode eight, where Maomao gets drawn into the mystery of an attempted murder during her vacation. Toad lilies symbolize hidden thoughts and intentions, alluding both to the possible conspiracy on the part of the women of the brothel, and to the fact that Maomao will never really know the truth of the incident, having to content herself with speculation.

Sacred bamboo: This one is easy to miss, because while the plant is in full bloom in the opening, it’s laden with berries in the show proper. This is Nandina, a.k.a. the sacred bamboo, a mainstay of autumn and winter floral arrangements in both China and Japan. It’s considered auspicious, symbolizing a reversal of ill fortune into prosperity--the precise opposite of how it’s presented in episode nine of the show. There, Maomao fiddles with the plant as she contemplates all the instances she’s seen of good fortune being struck down by tragedy, and the prospect of that same sword of Damocles falling upon her head as well, a harbinger of eucatasrophe being used to symbolize straight catastrophe. Also worth noting is the fact that the plant is very poisonous, so much so that it has a reputation for killing any birds which try to eat its berries; I think that bit of trivia might be the inspiration behind the decision to ironically invert its lucky image. In addition to its central appearance in episode nine, it can also be seen in Lishu’s chambers in episode ten, mixed in among the vases of white camellias.

Japanese azalea: These mean passion and steadfastness, alluding, in my view, to Fengming’s devotion towards Ah-duo. Fun fact: did you know that honey made from toxic azaleas, termed ‘mad honey,’ is sometimes manufactured on purpose? It’s not super legal in most of the world, but apparently it can be used as a psychedelic.

After this, we see a panning shot of seven flowers, with the top four representing the high-ranking concubines, and the bottom three representing the high-ranking courtesans. While the first set of flowers grew from buds and flew across the screen, this set consists of still images. If I were to hazard a guess as to why, I'd say that it's because those previous flowers were conveying the movement of emergent stories, while these upcoming flowers portray the relatively static personality traits of individual characters. I'm going to tackle these in reverse order, as the first three flowers to appear are somewhat tricky to talk about.

Peony: This flower represents Gyokuyou, and in addition to appearing in her non-diegetic floral backgrounds, it also decorates the tapestries of the jade pavilion. In Chinese culture, peonies are one of, if not the most, important flowers. They represent feminine beauty, pride, honor, renown, wealth, prosperity, high-status, opulence, and a nobility of spirit. They are considered to be the king of flowers, and were historically only permitted to be grown by nobility. All of these superlatives are likely alluding towards Gyokuyou's status as the emperor's favorite consort, with the best shot at becoming empress.

Balloon flower: See above.

Lily-of-the-valley: This means purity, chastity, humility, and 'happiness will come again.' While the first three all seem to fit Lishu on their face, I find myself curious about the fourth meaning. I'm only partway through the third novel, but if this indicates that, at some point in the future, Lishu finally catches a break, then I'll certainly be happy to see it.

Dendrobium: In China, orchids in general are associated with elegance, refinement, and good taste, which fits with Maomao's description of the garnet pavilion as being beautiful in a minimalist sort of way. They also represent the virtues of an ideal gentleman-scholar: integrity, humility, temperance, and nobility. Furthermore, they are considered emblematic of spring; it, along with bamboo, chrysanthemum, and plum blossom, represent the four seasons. Returning to Japanese symbolism, the flower associated with Ah-duo seems to specifically be Dendrobium nobile. Nobile in particular means 'honest and to-the-point' in hanakotoba, likely alluding to Ah-duo's candid personality, and the fact that she is on casual terms with the emperor.

Regarding the final three flowers, the show itself doesn't explicitly tie any one of them to a particular courtesan--their flowers only appear as a group in episode twelve. But, by contemplating their meanings, and with some help from the characters' wiki pages, we can make some educated guesses.

Yulan Magnolia: This one, I'm guessing, represents Joka. On one hand, I'm kind of dumping her with this because the other two flowers just seem to fit the other two courtesans better, but its attributes nonetheless seem to accord what we know of her character--which admittedly isn't very much. In hanakotoba the yulan magnolia means nobility, sublimity and a love of nature. In China, its pretty similar: purity, nobility, dignity. It's also worth noting that they're commonly planted around Buddhist temples in China, and have been for many centuries, granting them an air of spiritual profundity. Joka is said to be aloof and cold, which is part of her appeal as a courtesan. While chrysanthemums and plum blossoms have a warmer aspect to their meanings, the loftiness of magnolia hews more closely to her characterization. Then there's the matter of her name, which is apparently a stage name. It translates to 'Lady Ka' (or 'Hua,' if you want to go with the Mandarin pronunciation.) Now, the 'ka' in her name is written as 華, and in the story, that character is only permitted to be used by the emperor and his family. So, for her to use it, even as a stage name, is a pretty bold pretense to nobility.

Chrysanthemum: In Japan, chrysanthemums are associated with nobility and the imperial family. In China, they are associated with longevity, endurance, and vitality, on account of their long-lasting blooms that persist late into autumn. I think this is most likely to be Pairin's flower. She's one of the few courtesans who's in her line of work because she wants to be, and is flourishing in an environment where others are desperate and debt-ridden. That covers 'vitality,' and Lihaku can attest to her endurance, if you know what I mean... Moving on, its mentioned in the novels that she's actually in her thirties, but still looks quite young, again harkening to the chrysanthemum's persistence.

As far as symbolism is concerned, chrysanthemums do seem to fit her character better than magnolias. But, something that gives me pause is her name, which means 'white bell,' on account of yulan magnolias being white and having a bell-like shape. I still think it's most likely that the chrysanthemum, and not the magnolia, belongs to her, but it was too notable a coincidence to not at least mention.

Plum Blossom: We can safely assume this one refers to Meimei, as her name is written with the character for plum. As plum trees are among the earliest to bloom each year, and will even bloom while snow still covers their branches, both China and Japan associate them with resilience, hope, inner-strength, and renewal. We don't know much about Meimei either, but my impression of her is that she seems to be the nicest and most even-keeled of Maomao's sisters.

Following this parade of showy flowers, we finally glimpse the emblem of our protagonist, Oxalis corniculata, the creeping wood sorrel, downcast and huddled amidst the underbrush of a forest. Whereas the other flowers we've seen thus far are primarily ornamental (even if some are also edible/medicinal,) wood sorrel is herbaceous and weedy, and is unlikely to grace any vases, wreaths, or arrangements. If it were spotted in a noble's garden, it would likely be uprooted, but to the peasant who finds it growing in a ditch, it's a tasty snack.

In hanakotoba, wood sorrel means joy, 'shining heart,' and 'a mother's love.' All three descriptors, I believe, are relevant to Maomao's character. Despite her flat affect, Maomao has a strong passion and sense of joie de vivre driving her through life. Those further along in either the novels or the manga will recognize 'a mother's love' as (somewhat ironically) gesturing towards her complicated relationship with her mother. As for 'shining heart,' I think that will become apparent as we go further through the opening.

But, before we do that, I'd like to take a moment to examine the moments when wood sorrel appears in the show itself. Thus far, by my recollection, it has appeared in episodes one, three, and twelve. The opening shot of the first episode is of a wood sorrel, informing the viewer in no uncertain terms that this is Maomao's flower, (in case the opening was too subtle.) In the third episode, several wood sorrels dot the field where Fuyou sits with her lover, symbolizing how Maomao has aided and protected them. In episode twelve, a single wood sorrel is tucked inside a lavish bouquet of her sister's flowers, a visual gag paralleling them fussing and fawning over her.

Returning to the opening, Maomao is shown contemplating a subtle glow in her closed hands while a reflected, sunlit version of herself glances back at her. Then, as all the previous flowers fall away, as Maomao casts the light up into the air, its glow illuminating her face, the wood sorrel finally stands upright, and blooms in full.

Now is a good time to mention a relevant characteristic of creeping wood sorrel: it only blooms in direct sunlight. When crowded by other plants, it curls in on itself, closing both its flower and leaves. This serves as a clear metaphor for Maomao's personality; under most circumstances, she seeks to be invisible and unobtrusive, but when she's in her element, she commands attention and respect.

Following this, we have her magical girl-esque transformation sequence, with her outstretched hands forming the shape of a blooming flower as she dances through a whirl of yellow wood sorrel petals. She then bows down in imitation of the flower, taking the light back into her chest (there's that shining heart I mentioned earlier,) as she dissolves into the stoic, unassuming version of herself once more, closing out the opening. (Jinshi who?)

I'd like to end this analysis with an observation. While the real wood sorrel exists at the perpetual mercy of outside forces, Maomao is not merely reacting to a light source that exists beyond her control. The light exists within her, and she chooses when it will shine down for all to see, and when she will hide it away in the depths of her heart. To those who've gotten this far, thank you so much for reading.

#the apothecary diaries #i like being mean to a certain someone #but i will note that i'm familiar with the interpretation that the lyrics of the op are written from his perspective #and i would agree that that reading has merit

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umhwarmglitterstory · 4 months ago

Text

The spaces in the knot

Jason Todd x reader

Mature- F reader, Descriptions of past violence

Chapter 3

<- Chapter 2

•••

It started with sounds, distorted and fading, indistinct voices, the smell of rubbing alcohol. You slowly opened your eyes to a navy blue room, your head beating with a dull pain. You moved in your place, barely turning on the cot, when you were seventeen you tripped and rolled down half a set of stairs, drunk enough to laugh at it, the next day it was like even your nails were sore. This was a lot like that, just much worse.

Your whimper got the attention of the two nurses chatting at the table in the corner of the room. “Hello there, how are we feeling? I'm doctor Katia” the woman said, pulling that small lantern from her chest pocket. She flared your eyes making you lose again the little sense you had recovered. You tried to sit but a hand on your shoulder stopped, as she kept talking.

You yelped when she grabbed your arm, folding it across your belly, your right hand was covered in bandages, maroon tint between the visible part of your fingers, coarse and thick casting over it. It was, if anything , a rough job. You automatically raised it closer to your face for inspection, aiming to turn your hand around without thinking, gyrate it- almost yelling in pain. The doctor promptly stopped the movement, landing it harshly once again above your chest, rolling her eyes “What did I just say?” As she was done she left, the other lady at the table still typing on the computer and still not acknowledging you.

What were you supposed to do?

The door opened, a man walkin in, he gave you a quick glance, and then a ridiculously charming smile to the typing lady. “Laura, hey. Would you mind?” Before he was done asking Laura was already on her way out, a smile of her own. While the man saw her go, you watched him. He was tall, muscular but lean, an honest to god very handsome profile, classic movie star jet black hair, kinda slick back, but mostly, framing his face with fancy ‘unkempt’ locks.

That heart-monitor thing, the beeping one? You were grateful to be spared the humiliation of having one so he could hear his lame effect on you. He had that confident look, telltale of a million women at his mercy, really not needing another one.

“Hey there, how are you feeling?” He asked politely, and there seemed to be actual concern on his face. You just frowned a little. He sucked on hair and raised his eyebrows, another ‘too charming smile’ “Ha, uh, yeah, I should introduce myself right? I'm Richard Grayson, I- well, heard you were half-conscious on the street”

Now you frowned for real, and not at the far away bell that that name rang. “What?” You asked alarmed, the word dry and chapped, the short effort almost making you cough. Dick quickly handed you a small, sealed water bottle. Second guessing right before you grabbed it, pulling it back and opening it- only enough to break the seal- and then gave it to you. Your hand was pretty much useless. He didn't offer a hand shake in his introduction either.

“ I see you don't fully remember it, then? You got caught between some crossfire last night.” He said while watching you, observing you, if not ‘analyzing’. It bothered you, but you did start to remember. Your quest, your- oh god! You did shoot him in the head! “Red… Red hood, he…” You were talking to yourself, mostly. The man looked at the floor, a serious expression. “Yeah, yeah. He, uh, kind of roughed you up a little, uh”

Wait- wait, wait. There was an explosion, and- and Nightwing was there? What? - Oh! Oh, yeah, he caught you, again! He was very fucking alive grabbing you. You used your working hand to check your upper arm, and it was hella tender, your carefree squish making you hiss in pain.

“Woah, hey, carefull, you've been through a lot. You were pretty much hit by a truck, you know?” He said serious, sternly, almost authoritative, and a last piece fit then. You were surrounded by cops, while Redhood held you in the air.

You looked around: the depressing room, not a lot of equipment, but a sturdy door, opaque windows, and if you squinted, a black ‘net’ behind them. You turned back to the man, apparently he himself watching you having realizations, expectant. His handsome face had some tender, soft hues of purple around his eyes, his cheekbones and around his mouth, tiny butterfly band aids on each of his eyebrows.

“This is not a hospital” You said, and he pursed his lips in a half attempted smile “Yeah, no, sorry. I couldn't-” “You are a fucking cop” Your mouth said faster than your brain. You did freeze at your own stupidity, but before you could think of apologizing, he genuinely broke into a grin “Yeah, I- I've been told that, huh. Although I'd prefer to be referred as detective”

You were on the copilot seat of his car, some 80's synth lullaby on the radio, the volume too low in the otherwise silent car. You had coughed and he had looked at you, concerned. You hated it, although your entire thorax did hurt ridiculously bad with the exert.

You were looking through your window, droplets of water splashing the fancier and fancier scenery. You had been to the technically fanciest/richest part of Gotham. -Into one of their restaurants even, well, more or less- But these parts, here, was actually where the fortunes were. Families as rich and old as time itself. The essence, the root of Gotham itself was between these properties, inside those houses far away behind imposing grids and elegant metal gates. Family names instead of street numbers.

You had seen this zone plenty, on TV or social media; people like you -like most of Gotham, of the world- just didn't come here. And that wasn't a hyperbole; you could ‘explain’ walking into one of those clubs or restaurants or jewelry stores. But here? You just didn't stumble upon here. The lack of visible surveillance was frightening enough.

After a few minutes, the scenery started to get a little more scattered, empty plots of land here and there between the lavish estates and homesteads. The detective took a turn, and abruptly the landscape switched. No more lawns or inert gardens or marble driveways.

Acre upon acre of forest, wild enough, but cared for. Patches of clearly man planted trees, and not much scrub. A simple barbed wire fence, at least compared with the previous ones, surely electrified. You had spotted several outstanding stakes, cameras probably, although one of those looked like those weather gauge equipment, and some others had to be some form of birdhouse.

It was the same on the other side of the road, although you couldn't stare for long since Richard turned to look at you when he sensed you turning in his direction. You quickly averted, back to stare at your side of the scenery under the dusk colors. It was awkward.

And to add to it, you were also fighting a slumber, emotionally and physically busted. The occasional bump on the bare road flaring your bruises, or forcing you to gather back the bag on your lap. There was another one in the backseat, that probably had fallen to the car floor. It was mostly your clothes, and under your hands was your wallet, phone, toiletries.

Three hours ago you wouldn't even had entertained the idea of being driven away by a stranger man, a cop nonetheless. Less than twenty four hours ago you didn't have any major problem in your life, except for your revenge.

After a -mostly accurate- recount of last night's events, detective Grayson then proceeded to pull out his phone to show you a photo of yourself. You were totally lost for a second, and creeped, until under Richard's words you remembered, finally, that last night that one guy had shoved his phone to your face. There it has, the disheveled face of a woman who wanted to believe she had achieved something.

“And?”

“Do you know how I got this?”

You just shrugged and, what did it matter? As the fog dissipated more and more from your memories you started to think, to worry, to blame yourself. RedHood had been safe and sound, while you almost got Nightwing killed, and then just left him to his fate on some corner.

“Well, let's say you basically have a bounty on your head”

“W- what?”

Grayson started scrolling

“ ‘any information about her’, ‘probably a mole’ ‘Jackson's deal’ -that would be last night- and ‘meddling bitch’.”

You just frowned, shaking your head indicating your absolute ignorance of whatever it was he was reading. The detective sat down at your side, showing you the screen to some tacky gamerish interface, the words he had read on a papyrus-like square blog.

“Uh, let's call it some ‘criminal social media’” He smiled, his canines kind of distracting.

“Ok?”

“Ok, yeah. Well, you see, that's- it's not really much, a lot of gothamites get their mugs around this thing. I've seen people’s faces or names, addresses even, here because their awful exes wanted to make their lives extra hard. I am, too, principally under some ‘beware, competent detective’ you know, ha? But there is some serious stuff too.”

“So… some people are going to harass me, or what?”

“It's- complicated. It was ‘just that’ until, I don't know, ten a.m.? Because then, when we checked again, someone had added to it. Someone -or some people- that, I don't know, recognized you from something before, had interest in you already? or they finally got to put a face to an… event”

A train of memories went through your head, highlighting the one where you killed and stole. You tried to remain nonchalant, dumb and innocent. You shrugged again, and you could tell the detective knew you were hiding stuff. He didn't insist.

“What do you mean ‘added’? Added what?”

“Well” He sighed, showing you his phone again “Same as restaurant guides, there are prices, and you got three signs”

He pointed on the screen, three green cartoonish dollar signs at the end of your ‘notes’.

“How much-

“Tens of thousands, or by the hundreds, even. It's a wide range, you have to contact them to get more details. But… okay, so the revenge exes ones? Those get one, tops. It's more of an honorary one. I got two last time I checked, and it's stayed like that for years now”

He looked you in the eyes, the severity of the situation evident.

“I am very fucked” You said, picking at the bandages with your left hand. Grayson nodded slowly, thinking.

“Yes. Absolutely… But, I could help you-”

You interrupted with a snort, mockingly, without pausing your endeavor or looking at him.

He shifted slightly, crossing his arms “Do you have a plan?”

“Sure”

“Ok, tell me”

“Mmh I don't feel like sharing”

He smiled again, amused. He signaled the room.

“You are at a police station, and I happen to be a detective” Yeah, yeah, right. Wait- what was he trying to say?

“And on account of- what? Why- what did I do?”

You stood up, angry, immediately holding onto the drip stand by the stretcher because you almost bent over in pain and grogginess. You barely registered the hands supporting you, guiding you back to sit.

“You were in the middle of a crime scene, battered, and pretty much handed over by a vigilante-” “Since fuckin when is that fucking criminal a godamnt vigilante!?” The venom in your voice surprised even you.

He looked you in the eyes for a while, maybe too long, clenching his jaw, deep in thought. He came to a sort of understanding with himself, without taking his eyes off you, like he was looking for something. He then shrugged, almost comically casual.

“Right! That certainly wouldn't require more than a few hours of your time, yes? Now… when they run tests on the fired revolver, found in the same backstreet there was a failed arms deal last night, you know, the ‘Jackson's deal’” He bent a little, his face closer to yours. “Whose fingerprints are gonna be there?”

You didn't even think of schooling your face, directly shoving it into your hand. God, you had been so stupid and reckless. Seriously, you just dropped the gun? Oh fuck what if they found out it was Stephen's? Wait, your bangle! It was missing too! Mom's-

Your eyes started to water. Why? Why were you so damn useless? You had given up your scarf too, you liked it, it wasn't sparkling, but it did have a subtle, fantasy shine. You couldn't work with your hand like this, supposing the pain on the rest of your body got tolerable and not worse, you had to buy your boyfriend a new gun, that rat was still alive-

“Please” He was looking up to you, fully crouched on the floor in front of you, not too close. And you almost believed the good intentions in his eyes. “Let me help you” You sniffled, turning to stare at the white fog of the window “In exchange for what?” you spat, hoping the unsaid told him about your disgust, your mistrust, towards them. You sensed him dropping his head, exhaling heavily.

He stood up, looking at the window just like you, a minute of silence. “We- I, I have suspicions about who it might be, the ones putting a bounty on you. I want, no, I need to catch them. It's a little bit personal, I'd say. And, listen, I don't care what you did to piss them off. I swear I don't. They are the criminals, they are the only ones I'm interested in imprisoning. So, help me, and I'll help you, okay?”

You remained silent, lost. Any viable option parted from you fully accepting you were trapped. And you just really didn't want to.

But you also thought, as you stared at his blue eyes, that if he had some personal quarrel with the former employers of Harry and Diego, it would be just stupid to not get him involved with you.

“They will kill you” He continued “one way or another. On the street, in your house, in a second if you get arrested.”

That picked your attention. First, that he was straightforward with the GCPD letting you die, if not handing you over to the hounds, that was sensible enough. But also

“So I can't go home?” You asked, or stated. Before he answered you continued, less defensive “So… what? Are you gonna pay me for a hotel or what” And you truly heated the relief you saw on his face at the prospect of you listening to him.

“Uhm, yeah… Sure! I mean, but, uh, that wouldn't do much, actually… I could take you somewhere safe, really safe”

Oh, fuck me. “And, pray tell, does that ‘haven’ happen to be your fucking place?” God, you were so ready to punch him.

“NO! No, no! Listent, just, please, okay-”

You looked him in the eye, unimpressed and fucking done.

“It's not like that, at all, I swear. It's a- a family house, a manor, actually- Listen, you don't even have to see me-” You rolled your eyes, hard, turning your back to him. Unbelievable.

He groaned “Just, ok- uh you can bring-” He stopped himself abruptly. Oh? He had to have read a file or something about you, to know you didn't really have many people to yourself. Not family, at least

“You- you can look it up, look me up online, or ask, or- just, ahh…There has to be something, someone, to make you trust me. Let's do this, what can I do? Just, tell me your conditions.

You half joked, half meant it when you said Jim Gordon's name. It did fully astonish you when a smile started to appear on the man's face, and he just left the room signaling you to ‘wait a second’.

You did look up for his name while you waited, and then you were truly blindsided.

It would be too stupid to not take this opportunity.

You had dozed off for a while, you were now driving past a lawn terrain again, but with lots of trees unlike the other properties. It was pittoresque, pretty even. Oaks, and elms, and dogwoods, were the few you could recognize. And gardens and fruit trees, slopes and hills and plains, like a park worthy of being painted.

You reached an illuminated area, lights from tall posts and garden lamps. The car slowed as it reached the imposing double black gates as they opened.

You already could see the manor, and what a manor it was! God, regular people just couldn't grasp how unbelievably loaded the rich actually were. You really didn't want to look impressed, and it was hard, because just look at that damn porch!

“We are here” Richard announced with a tight smile, getting out of the car. You did so as well, slower and uncertain, clutching your bag with your left hand. Richard closed the door for you and then went for your other bag on the backseat, while a blonde woman in uniform got into the driver seat.

“Hi Jules” He greeted her, she nodded with a polite “Evening, master Grayson” driving off to a garage, you guessed, as soon as Richard closed the door. ‘Master’? A chauffeur? Front gardens full of flowers you had never seen in your life? A goddamn butler already waiting at the door? Yikes.

You follow him up the stone steps, -he limps a little, actually- into the entryway, feeling very out of place, of course. He hugs the butler heartfully. It's probably like in the movies? You think. ‘The rich parents are so busy and distant, the caretakers are actually the employees’... You stop yourself, it's none of your business, and you've been around for like what, 5 seconds?

They exchange a warm greeting. Richard turns to you, patting the man at his side “This is Alfred, our beloved Butler” Said man bows a little, you quickly extend your hand and present yourself.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, miss. During your stay I will be of your service-” “Thank you” You blurt- interrupt- nervously fidgeting and shifting your weight on your feet, barely looking at him, at them, just watching with only half genuine interest the decorations, the type of lightbulbs- oh, chandeliers. Richard beckons you with a hand on your shoulder

“I'll show her around, Alfred” He announces, you two already past the entryway. The living room is not that big, but you supposed there's plenty of saloons. Still pretty. “Of course, I'll be preparing the night tea” The old man said, then walked away. You focused on your walking, you'll have time to snoop and gawk some other day.

You reached the second floor, Richard guided you to the hall on the right, then to the first door on the left, inviting you to walk in first. It's a bedroom, big and beautiful with large windows to the backyard. Richard goes and drops your bag by the bed, eyeing the one you are carrying as if to say something, but deciding against it.

“What do you think? Will you be okay staying here?” And it's so obviously he's being sincere, you don't have it in you to be sarcastic. “Yeah”

Richard looks around the room, as if it was new to him. Well, maybe it was.

“Ok, uhm, may I show you around the place?”

“Uhm, can't you just, tell me? I don't know, I'm tired”

“Right, of course, you're right- please?” He asks, gesturing at the two armchairs by the window.

He gives you a short, quick description of the place: Three floors, an attic and basement. Here on the second floor, it's currently just you. Him, Bruce, family, they stay on the third floor, and the house personnel on the first.

It becomes a little ‘resort advertising’ when he starts listing all this place has in a ‘pool and tennis court’ way. You truly lose the thread, just picking it up when something interesting comes around, like the pool, the greenhouse or the gym. Right now you don't think you have the energy or the confidence to leave this room.

He doesn't explicitly tell you there are off limits places, but with the way he insists on the recreational spaces, you can tell. Nothing too much. You do know, just like when going to a house party, not to go to the master bedroom or the second floor. Third in this case.

He explains to you Bruce -and you still can't believe it, Bruce fucking Wayne!- is on a vacation with his fiancée, he himself will be out to work in the city, and his siblings barely are around. If anything you should just care to get along with Alfred, the only constant, and you are relieved and happy with that. He hasn't asked for your job, and you wonder how much he already knows. Any way you're thankful, you know he'll know you are lying the second you say ‘waitress’. Even if it's half truth. A little bit of this, a little bit of that.

“Dick?” Calls a strong voice from the corridor. It takes you a second to get that is a nickname and not an insult, Richard, right. A man appears at the door, messy black curls and a souring frown. He is tall, big, big big, like a fridge as they say. He also looks very unamused looking at you, not expecting any company, you supposed.

“Jay, hi, uhm” Richard looks… troubled? “So, this is Jason, my little brother” You almost smile at the ‘little’. Richard, once again, introduces you, quickly and short “-and, she'll be staying for a while with us.”

Jason do smiles. It's a brother's thing, you guess, the way he, with half-closed green eyes, answers with a? Sardonic voice? “You don't say.” He says. And it's quiet for a second.

“Well! nice to meet you then, lady” -It sounds so much like Alfred- “Come talk to me as soon as you can, Dick. Night” He nods at the both of you as a goodbye, and disappears.

You break the new, short silence.

“So… is he also a cop or what?” Richard snorts hard “What?! Why do you say that?”

You shrug, although you do have very valid points “He's all roughed like you, his face is swelling”

Richard closes his eyes a moment then looks you in the eyes, a very entertained expression on his face, like when you are about to deliver a punchline. He shakes his face a little “He, uhm… nah, he can be very impulsive, reckless if you might. Gets into fights quite often”

“Ah, uh… okay”

“Yeah, yeah. So, may you join me for dinner?”

You deinflatte at that, you haven't seen the dinner table, but you can imagine.

“Uh… I-”

“I promise is nothing fancy, yeah?”

You are tired, and deep down, moved, because he's starting to seem sincere, about everything. You are starving, too.

“Yeah. Could I first-” you point to the bathroom door.

“Of course! Meet me downstairs in fifteen, Okay?”

“Yeah, sounds good”

After the room's door closes with a click, you walk to the bathroom. You get some stuff out of your bag and into the white counter, too difficult with just one hand. You admire the place, while struggling. Not too big -considering- but marbleish and well polished, several baskets here and there with toiletries, period pads and tampons.

Until you find some place you trust, you'll have to carry your thick wallet with you all the time, among you phone and money and stuff.

Speaking of, before you fix yourself a little, you pick up your phone, texting your senior neighbor Noel, following Dicks advice.

Me: Hi, evening!! By the way I'll be staying with some friends for a while. in case you don't see me.

Me: But! You can tell me if you need anything, anytime, okay?

Me: I'll send you your pastries and pizza, take care, bye!

Finally -and with excellent lighting- You check your reflection. You look so bad in the mirror, disheveled hair, bloodshot eyes, swelling in your face right where you got smacked by that man. You can't stare too much, you'll go to dark places.

So, you are at the Wayne manor. The fucking Waynes! And you better get something -anything- out of it. You focus on that as you fix your hair.

Chapter 4 ->

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