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ghostskiss · 1 year ago

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Handle It

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x F!Reader WC: 5.1k Summary: Reader is taking a shower and someone decides to crash the party. Warnings: 18+ Exhibitionism (risk of getting caught), shower sex (kinda), SUB SIMON, teasing, begging, sub to dom to…sub, finger sucking, oral, fingering, penetration, overstimulation, spit, creampie

Hot water beads down your back. Well, maybe that’s a bit too generous. It’s hardly trickling out of the showerhead above you, and the water’s lukewarm at best. But it feels great, your eyes are closing, your muscles are relaxing, and you almost forget that it’s a communal shower. That anyone could walk in and join you at another showerhead, there’s several in here, meant to get a group of people clean to save time. Time’s important in the military, you know this. So does everyone else, but there’s an unspoken rule. If someone’s in the showers, you don’t join unless absolutely necessary.

Which is why you’re allowing yourself this moment. You’d announced to the group that you were hitting the showers after the operation. And true to your word, as soon as you’d stepped out of the vehicle, you beelined it to the building. Soap joked about joining you, earning a punch from someone in result. You hadn’t cared to look behind you to confirm who it was, instead you’d waved a hand over your shoulder, acknowledging that you’d heard him, but wasn’t threatened by his constant yet harmless flirts. It was how you two communicated. It was a nice break in the violence and mayhem Task Force 141 found yourselves in. Even if Ghost and Price rolled their eyes at the banter, you could tell it eased their nerves at times. It’s hard to hold onto humanity when you see the worst of it day end and day out.

Getting the bar of soap into your hands, you rub it against your skin, ridding yourself of the dirt and grime from today’s work. It’s normal to get dirty doing what you do, and yet no matter how you wash yourself, it feels as though you’re never clean. You’d scrubbed your skin raw once, after a mission, coming out of the showers with irritated skin. Still. You were never clean. Today didn’t feel like that. The operation went well. There was no killing, no torture, and for once, it was an easy day. You want to savor this feeling, knowing that today went right, how relaxing the water is, feeling somewhat clean despite the past.

A knock rings through the showers, bouncing off the walls. The soap slips through your fingers as you jump with sound, the relaxing feeling you had now long gone. The knock has authority to it. It has impatience. Gritting your teeth, you rinse off quickly before turning the knob to shut the water off. You leave the poor soap on the ground, moving to the cement wall separating the showers from the door of the building.

“What?” You call out, a little irritated. Sure, you’d been in here for a bit longer than normal. But it was the one time you’d actually felt…nice.

A deep voice from behind the closed door comes to you. You resist an urge to roll your eyes. Ghost.

“Been in there a bit. Other people would like to clean themselves before heading in for the night.”

This, you do roll your eyes at. He’s right. You’re hogging the shower, but there’s an unspoken…thing you have against Ghost. He’s stoic and a bit miserable to be around if you’re being honest. He’s too serious, all the time, he never likes to have fun, and if you and Soap are going back and forth, he’s got to voice his displeasure. You secretly think he’s jealous. You think that he either is jealous of the relationship you have with Soap, or he’s jealous of Soap. Probably the former since you two can hardly stand each other.

Sighing out, you cross your arms over your naked chest. Right, you’d almost forgotten where you were.

“Well,” you start out, a bit snarky, “there’s always room, Lt.”

You’re joking, obviously, already moving to wrap a towel around your body. Without waiting for whatever response your lieutenant is trying to muster up, you cross the space from the cement wall to the door, hand gripping the handle to wrench it open.

There he is, in all his glory, towering over you. He’s ditched the mask he wears in operations or important meetings, donning his comfortable skulled balaclava. In fact, he’s changed out of most of his gear. Bare hands, black Henley shirt rolled up to his elbows. Of course, his lower half is clothed in his usual black pants, and he still has his boots on. Yet he looks more naked and vulnerable than you do in your little white towel. He looks at a loss of words.

A playful look crosses your features, a smirk teasing your lips as you prop a hand on your hip. Before you can get a word out, Ghost shifts forward quickly with a grumble tumbling out of his chest, pushing you back into the building with his presence alone. You frown a bit as you move backwards to accommodate his size as the door behind him closes you both in, confused as he glares down at you.

“Christ, could you not waltz around in nothing but bloody a towel?”

Another attempt to not roll your eyes comes over you. “What’re you, shy? It’s not like I’m completely naked.” You gesture at yourself; it’d be as if you were wearing a strapless dress. Granted, the towel is tiny, you’re wet from the shower, and you’re definitely not wearing any panties. Still, you had no idea Ghost was such a prude.

“Really?” Ghost’s gaze trails hotly down the front of your body. Suddenly your face feels hot. He’s never once looked at you like this. Like he’d…

A shaky breath escapes you before you laugh it off, “If you can’t handle me in a towel after shower, I doubt you’d be able to handle being around me in the actual showers.” You jerk a thumb over your shoulder as you watch his gaze follow it behind you. He can see the room of showers over the wall. You think you see his jaw clench under his mask.

This is bad. You’re jokingly teasing him the way you and Soap talk. This is uncharted territory, and you’re not sure you can keep the act up. With Soap, it’s harmless fun. You both know you’re not interested in each other. It’s easy to try to get a reaction out of each other, to see who says the most ridiculous shit first. It’s a stupid game. With Ghost, it’s dangerous. It’s nerve wrecking. It’s serious because he’s serious.

Suddenly he’s looking back down at you. You try not to fidget as you stare back at him. You can’t read him. You’re about to talk to break whatever this tension is, about to tell him the showers are his.

“No, I probably can’t.”

Did his voice drop an octave? Why was it making your skin heat? What was going on right now? You feel like your brain is malfunctioning. Your gaze drops down to the broad slope of his shoulders, and down his frame, distracted a bit. Of course, he’s attractive. You’d be insane to not think so. Even if you’ve never seen his face. It’s the way he holds himself, it’s the way he’s built, it’s his damned voice, and his eyes and everything else. But he’s your lieutenant for Christ’s sake. He’s mean sometimes. He’s ruthless, a brute, a –

“Let me see. I want to try. To… handle it.”

You freeze, eyes shooting back up to his. “You -?”

His chin dips to your towel, “Take it off.”

For a moment, you’re both watching each other. Ghost’s got his eyes on yours, unwavering. He’s really serious about this, you realize. Your thighs are clenching together now, trying to relieve the ache. You were joking, you think, about him not handling it in the showers. Now you’re thinking maybe you’re the one who can’t.

Shakenly, your hands raise to the knot tied at your breast. Your actions stop for a moment, silently waiting for him to tell you to stop. The command never comes. You can’t believe you’re doing this, bearing yourself for your broody and moody higher up. For him. All because you don’t want to back out on what you started. Suddenly, you want to prove him wrong. That he can’t handle it. That you’re not affected at all by his words or actions, or more importantly his inactions. The towel drops.

It’s loud with how silent it is in the room. Who knew a damp towel could be so loud? Your gaze doesn’t leave his, holding it, even as you stand bare in front of him. A smirk quirks your lips. He’s avoiding looking at you. That’s how he thinks he can move around the situation at hand.

Testing him, your hand brushes against your own collarbone, trailing slowly -- tantalizingly slow. Still, his eyes never wander from your own. So, this is how you could play games with Ghost. It’ll be fun to see him break.

“You’re not looking,” you start, stating the obvious.

“Never said I had to. Only said that I could handle being around you.” He shrugs, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like he won the game.

You laugh a little at that, and watch his eyes ever so slightly dip to your lips before coming back up to your eyes. Your own hands are wandering your body now, groping a bit at your chest. His hands clench at his sides.

“Are you going to take a shower, Lt?” A breathless noise leaves you as you ask, your fingers pinching one of your nipples. Fuck him. You’re so turned on right now it’s ridiculous. He doesn’t have to look. Just the thought of being here in front of him while he’s fully clothed doing this, while the two of you are alone and anyone could walk in –

“No. And quit that.” He growls out, knocking your hand away from your breast. He still hasn’t looked, but you’re guessing he’s getting a view from his peripherals.

“Quit what?” You feign innocence, your hand that’d been knocked away now dips in between your thighs eliciting a soft moan from your lips. “You said you’d try. If you’re not going to take a shower, you can watch.”

Ghost has no words for you now, his pupils dilating before your very eyes. Spreading your legs a bit wider to get a better reach on yourself, you continue. Slow pressing circles on your clit, your arousal slicking loudly in the air. Your free hand goes back up to your tits, to continue groping, pinching, pulling.

Finally, he breaks. He breaks when your pussy squelches around your own fingers, his burning gaze trailing down your body to the hand that’s pulling such noises out of you. A groan sets loose from him, and you shudder from the mere sound.

“Kneel.”

Ghost’s eyes shoot back up to yours in question.

“Kneel, I said. You can get a better look.” Your tone is set in stone. Despite the burning ache you’ve got, the need for him to touch you, you feel in control.

He hesitates for a moment before lowering himself down to the ground, knees pressing against the cement. His eyes have yet to leave yours.

“You can look but don’t touch.” Your breath hitches, arousal seeping into your very being seeing him like this. Listening to your commands. You watch his hands clench on his thighs, his attention going back to your pussy. Your breath hitches at his stare, feeling the heat of it. He doesn’t have to touch for you to feel his attention. It’s making you sloppy, messy, and wet. You keen, a brief thought of asking him to touch you, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

Staring down at him as your fingers continue to tease yourself, you watch him just as intently as he’s watching you. He seems fixated. You wonder if he’s drooling in his own mask. The front of his pants looks tight. His hands are clenching and unclenching on his thighs, his shoulders shuddering when you make a noise in the back of your throat. You watch him tense as you ease a finger in yourself. Your clit is throbbing, aching, begging for attention, you’re teasing yourself just as much as you’re teasing him. Slowly pumping the one finger in yourself, you press another one in, mewling out as your hips buck a little upward.

“Let me taste you.” He rushes out suddenly. Ghost’s voice is gravel, scrapping across your body. Your head nearly tips back at the sound of it, another pitiful noise leaving your mouth.

Stay strong. Stay strong. You shake your head, unable to give him an actual answer as your fingers create a devastatingly slow pace, slick coating your fingers and thighs.

“Fuck. What’ll take? Let me taste you.” He’s demanding now, knuckles white with how hard he’s gripping the material over his thighs.

You pant, trying not to stammer. “Beg.” It comes out stronger than you feel right now. Core burning with the need to come.

“Please.” He grits out through his teeth, angry eyes coming up to your glassy ones.

“You don’t sound sincere.” You laugh breathlessly, shaking your head again. Your fingers pause, coming out to press softly against your clit. If you press any harder, you have no doubt you’ll come. You don’t want to give it to him yet. Ghost watches the action, a growl coming from him.

“Please,” he tries again, looking back up at you to see if it was good enough. It’s not and you tsk at him. “Please, let me taste your pussy. Let me put my mouth on you. Please.”

The last plead is strained, almost a whine. Your fingers dip back in, curling as you pump them again. Your head falls forward a bit with a whine of your own and you try to gather your bearings. “How are you going to taste me with your mask on?”

Quickly, he tugs it upward, only exposing his mouth. Christ. His mouth. He’s got a scar running down his lips. His jaw is clenched, and you curse whoever created him. He’s handsome, even if you’re only seeing the bottom half of his face. You watch his tongue tease his full bottom lip, his mouth opening into a soft pant. He’s eager. You catch another whine in your throat, fingers leaving your pussy to press against his mouth, covered in your own wetness. He opens his mouth, latching onto them, sucking and licking, taking anything you have to offer.

You watch with a newfound feeling. Here you have your lieutenant on the ground, kneeling and begging, sucking your fingers like it’s his God given right. Like he has something to prove. That he’s desperate enough to be debased to nothing. He’s moaning at the taste of you, following your fingers as they leave his mouth, like he’s not ready to stop cleaning yourself from them. He’s tilting closer as he watches them disappear back to your throbbing sex.

“No,” you tell him, stopping him from following your fingers all the way, “that’s all you get.” You moan out, your fingers wet with his spit now circling your clit. You need to come like this, having him at his knees in front of you.

“W-wait. Please. I’ll do anything. Fuck, please. Let me give you what you want, I can make you cum. With my mouth please –”

His begging sends you over the edge, not stopping as you cry out loudly, pussy clenching on nothing as your fingers circle and circle. It’s long and crippling, and you almost feel your knees buckle, your free hand gripping the cement wall behind you. Fuck, he’s not shutting up. It drags it out, hearing him whine and beg, a man who you thought could never be like this. You rip your hand away from yourself, panting, thankful for the wall behind you holding you up. Your thighs are quivering and wet from the orgasm, breath trying to catch up to your pounding heart.

Ghost is quiet now, looking up at you, waiting for your next move. His mouth parts, like he’s going to start up again and you hush him.

“Clean me up.”

You barely have the sentence out before he’s shooting forwards, hands gripping your thighs to make room for himself. He pulls one of your legs over his shoulder, tongue latching onto your already overstimulated clit. You cry out, hands shooting up to his masked head, trying to pull him away as he laps at your cream.

“A-ah, wait, Simon –” You start, squirming, trying to get away from his mouth and tongue. You feel him smile, the bastard.

“Think you can tease me like that? Huh?” He growls as he laps at you, tongue not missing an inch of your pussy. His words vibrate through you, not bothering to really pull away to talk. He’s violent in the way his mouth attacks you. “Think you can just do what you want to me?”

You stutter, about to apologize until he starts to add his fingers to the mix. Two thick fingers of his slam into you, pumping up as his tongue flicks your clit. You cry out, tears in your eyes as you take it. He’s going to make you come again, this fast. Too fast. You feel dizzy, vision fuzzy.

“Making me sit in front of this pretty pussy and not letting me touch or taste it.” He groans, and then chuckles as you bare down on his fingers, clenching hard. “Oh, you gonna come again pretty baby? Come on then.”

He’s mean. Meaner than you were to him. You’re panting, quivering, and aching, your pussy making obscene noises as he assaults all of your senses. You know you’re coming before you feel it. Like a delayed reaction. Gasping and bucking, he’s saying something again that you can’t register because your hearing leaves you, your sight leaves you, every sensation and thought is gone as you cry out, coming and coming again. Somehow in the midst of it, his fingers and mouth leave as you come back down to your body, and he’s holding you up, thank God. You doubt the wall behind you would’ve helped at all. Your fingers are clenched on the material of his mask, and as you blink down at him, chest heaving, you see his wet mouth smirk.

A flash of fear goes through you. This was the Ghost you know. The ruthless, cold, domineering, Simon Ghost Riley. Not the man that’d been on his knees begging. Not the man who’d let you command and tease him. He sets down the leg that’d been over his shoulder. You’re not sure if you’re still completely all together. He stands to his full height, and you shiver, trying to sink yourself back into the wall behind you as much as you can. His hand comes up to your jaw, gripping it gently as he tilts your head back.

“Open.”

You obey, lips parting, mouth opening. Nothing could prepare you for what he does next. He leans into you, pressing up hard against you, lips barely hovering your own. He spits. Fluid enters your mouth, and you moan, swallowing it up. It’s your own arousal, sweet and warm and oh. Your wet lashes flutter shut as Ghost licks the seam of your closed mouth, lapping at you before he nips and bites and kisses you. The kiss he’s giving you isn’t gentle. It’s consuming and you cry into it as your hands find purchase on his shoulders, sliding up to his neck to haul him closer to you. He answers your cry with a groan of his own, his hands cupping your ass to lift you up. Your legs come around him, locking your ankles behind his back to keep him close. Your sensitive pussy is pressed and rubbing against pants, the feeling abrasive and raw but you can’t stop from grinding against him.

“Tell me what you want. Tell me and I’ll give it to you.” Simon mutters against your lips, licking and biting still. You’re breathless and whimpering against him, his words going straight to your core as you move against him. He’s helping you, moving with your hips, matching you move for move. You’re distracted, unable to give him an answer as you kiss him back, your trembling fingers sliding a bit under his mask to grasp the back of his neck. He hisses out in pain when your nails dig in. “I’ll give you anything baby, please. Just say the words.”

“I – I want…” you gasp, your clit pressing against the seam of his pants. You can feel his length hard and heavy against you.

“Fuck, please. Please tell me.” He’s begging again, rutting his hips up against you, hands keeping you still as he continues.

“I want you.” Is all you can muster; all you can think about saying. You swear your brain isn’t working correctly. Even before this started. You must’ve hit your head during the mission.

"Want me? Want me to what?” He stops moving.

You groan out in frustration, head tipping back a bit before you look up at him. “Please, Simon. You’re teasing me now.” You’re not sure you like how quickly the tables have turned.

Ghost laughs a bit, breathless himself. You think he’s going to drag it out further until he sees the pout furrowing your brow. “Alright. I am. I’ll give it to you.” He still keeps you wrapped up against him, one hand holding you, the other going in between the two of you. His knuckles brush against your bare sex and you moan lowly, watching him unbuckle his pants, pulling his hard cock out. Precum is dripping down the length of it and your throat dries at the sight of him.

Concern must be showing on your face with how big he is. Another chuckle from him, “You can take it pretty baby.” Your concern dies out as he slides the length against your wet pussy and you bite down on lip, trying to contain your noises. You want him in you, size be damned. He runs the tip up and down once more before pressing against your entrance, pushing in slowly. This time, you can’t contain the low moan you have. He gives it to you slowly, pumping his hips up into you, letting you adjust to his size. It’s stretching you open, and you feel like he’s splitting you in half. It’s heavy and deep and throbbing –

“Oh.” You let out, almost surprised it feels so good. Addicting. You feel drunk.

A sadistic laugh comes from the man in you, his cock slowly pumping into you. He’s being nice, giving it to you this softly. His hands are pulling you back onto his cock, pinning you against the wall and his hard body. Your legs tighten around him as your nails dig into his shoulders.

“That’s it. It’s all yours, isn’t it?” Ghost dips down to nip your lips as you whimper. “Been wanting this pussy wrapped around me for so long, baby. Fuck.” He moans lowly as you keen at his words, clenching around his girth. “Teasing me when you have no idea what I’d do to you. For you.”

He’s going slow, dragging this out as long as possible. He’s pressing in deep, rolling his hips before pulling slowly back, letting you feel every inch of him before starting all over again. It’s driving you insane. It feels like it’s going on forever, his slow thrusting. He rocks into your soaking cunt, easing his throbbing cock in you smoothly and repeatedly. Ecstasy has taken hold of every fiber of your being. You hardly feel conscious, as his words lull you into lust, his cock pacifying you into drunken state. He won’t shut up again as you cry against his lips.

“Pussy feels so good. So good. Fuck. You can have this dick whenever you want baby, just say the word and it’s yours.” He moans lowly, the sloppy sounds of your pussy and his hips thumping into you with languid strokes are overpowering your thoughts. His words make your pussy clamp down on him and he moans again, not afraid to let you hear how good you’re making him feel.

“Si—” you gasp, mouth falling open against his, trying to pull him up closer to you.

“Tell me. Tell me, sweetheart. Fuck.” He rasps against you, his hips stuttering slightly at the sound of your broken moans.

“F-fuck me. Please fuck me. Simon, please.” You beg, not afraid to be pulled down to your knees like he had been. To be debased to nothing just as you had done to him.

He’s not just pliant, he’s willing. Eager again to please you. You know he could’ve done what you had to him, teased you, made you beg more, made you want and want and need. But he gives it to you, just like he promised he would. Your pussy flares as his thrusts get heavier, deeper, faster, rougher. It’s destroying you as much as it’s freeing you and your eyes roll back a bit. God, you’re going to cum again.

A knock sounds. Not unlike the one Ghost pounded on the door earlier. You gasp, trying to stop running to the hurdle you’re launching towards. Your body doesn’t get the memo, or doesn’t care, and it certainly seems Ghost couldn’t care less that someone is right outside the door. The man makes a frustrated noise, at you or the knock, you’re not sure. He clamps his hand down over your mouth as you try to contain the noises you’re currently making. You want to tell him to stop, someone’s right there, but he keeps fucking you. God, he’s so mean and cruel and –

“Lt?”

Your heart shudders in fear. Soap. No, God, no one can see this. Ghost fucking you against the wall, completely clothed, unrushed. Despite the fear of being caught, you feel a whine catch in your throat as you thrash again Simon’s relentless fucking. He hushes you quietly, slamming roughly into you now. You stop a squeal, but just barely, a loud yet pathetic squeak leaving you as euphoria bursts through you, pussy convulsing around his cock.

“Just a sec, Johnny.” Ghost throws over his shoulder, a smile playing on his handsome face. He hardly sounds phased even when just moments ago he was the one loudly moaning into your mouth. He hardly sounds winded even with the rough thrusts he’s delivering into you, fucking you through your orgasm. You claw weakly at his chest, angry at him, still coming down from the heaven he just gave to you.

You think Soap leaves, you’re not sure, but Ghost moves his hand from your mouth, back to your ass to bring down onto his cock. He’s using you now, making you meet him thrust for thrust, drilling your G-spot with such precision that your vision fades for a second.

“No, look at me. That’s it. Good girl. You’re so pretty baby. Such a good girl. You gonna let me fill you up now? Haven’t I been good enough for you? Huh?” He’s mocking a bit, but serious. His own form of a joke that you have no power or brain to call him out on. All you’re feeling, all you’re thinking about is his cock ravaging you from the inside, still, overstimulated. Your body hardly cares. It’s right there, right at the edge, ready to jump and to give him your all. You’re too dumb, blinded with pleasure, staring up at him as he growls down at you, throbbing cock ready to give it to you when you say the words. Maybe he really is under your command after all.

A whine comes from you, frantically nodding to him, hands scrambling on him to try to find solid ground while you’re in a different time and space with the fucking he’s giving you.

“No, you have to tell me baby. Fuck, tell me I’m good baby. Tell me I was good, and I can fill you up.” Simon’s begging, whining lowly in the back of his throat, his hips getting sloppier and shorter, pounding into you.

“You’re good. You’re good. Simon, you’re good. It’s so good. Please, pleasepleaseplease come in me.” You’re begging, sobbing, actually, tears streaming down your face as you try to catch up with your body. It hurts, it hurts so fucking good, you make a long and agonized noise against his mouth, he’s kissing you again, sucking your tongue, running his against your teeth, pulling sucking overstimulating –

Simon makes his own devastated noise, a low and shattering groan of pleasure and you feel it just as you’re coming, milking him into you. His cock is surging into you, pumping hot cum with each deep thrust. He’s grinding into you, fucking you both through your orgasms, making you see stars as you cry into his mouth, fingers tearing into his back through his shirt. His hips finally still after what seems to be eternity, your pussy still clenched around him. He keeps himself deep in you as you both try to gather your bearings as well as your breath. You’re staring at each other, panting, chests heaving. He brings a shaky hand up to your cheek, cupping it as he runs his thumb over your tears. The tenderness makes your heart clench. All he’s done tonight surprised you. He leans down to place a kiss against your lips as tenderly as the thumb that stroked you. You kiss him back gently, a little worried where this was going to leave the two of you.

He pulls back, eyes bouncing in between your own. He seems to sense your worry and he sighs, pulling out slowly. You almost want to cry at the loss of him. Ghost sets you down steadily, keeping his hands on you as you wobble, legs weak. You hold onto him and look back up, ready to question what the hell this meant. He shakes his head a bit and nods towards the showers.

“I think I can handle taking a shower with you. But it’s gotta be quick baby.”

Shocked, you stare at him incredulously before you burst out into a terrible laughing fit. You’d almost forgotten how you got here in the first place. You watch his mouth quirk up into his own smile before he starts to laugh a little too. You grab his hand, tugging him with you towards the showers.

“C’mon then big boy. Show me how you handle it.”

#guys. i'm sorry for my absence #i had to get out of this man's chokehold i'm not kidding #and then you know what happened?#THIS came to me in a dream #A DREAM #CALLING SIMON “GHOST” BECAUSE HE'S FCKIN HAUNTING ME!!!!#hope you enjoyed kiss kiss love love #simon ghost riley #cod mwii #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you

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wh0reforcoriolanussnow · 11 months ago

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The Fight || Billy The Kid x reader

Summary: Billy involves himself in a physical fight over you.

Warnings: violence, swearing, blood

Wc: 1,347

A/n: uh- this is my very first time writing a Billy fic so pls bear w me (especially w how they talk and stuff) bc in the the series I don’t really find Billy talking like how ppl write abt him (absolutely not hate whatsoever to those who do, I absolutely love ur fics find you all so talented 😭) so I’ll try my best to be as accurate as I can. Do let me know if I make a mistake so I can improve :)

Divider by @pommecita

"I'd fuck her any day if she wasn't whoring herself for him," Ollinger slurs, throwing his head back to let the contents of the bottle run down his throat as the men around him laugh. Billy's head pikes up at the sound. Typical Ollinger, talking about some woman as if she was an object.

Billy watches from the other side of the room as he continues to talk to them, his voice becoming louder by the second. "hot for a fucking gringo, and that's saying something," He shakes his head his eyes half close by how wasted he was.

"Wonder how Billy would feel if I had her, don't think he's too keen on sharin?" He nudges the guy beside him before bursting out laughing. Hearing this, he realises that Ollinger was talking about you. Calling you a whore.

He slammed the bottle in his hand down on the table making a loud noise. Pat Garrett and Jessie slightly flinch before they look up at Billy who was already standing, fuming.

"What's goin' on?" Pat asks, his eyes trying to follow Billy's line of gaze. Billy doesn't answer, instead, he storms over to where Bob Ollinger was and his friends. They were all laughing until one of the guys ushered everyone and tapped Ollinger to face Billy.

He slowly turned around, seemingly not bothered by Billy's presence or the fact that he towered over him. "Have something to say 'bout my girl Ollinger? Hm?" He stands his ground, taking another swig of his alcohol as he maintains eye contact with Billy. Everyone in the room had quietened down, eyes trained on the two who never got along.

"Maybe. Wanna hear what I gotta say Billy?" He smirks as Pat Garret and Jessie had already stood up from where they were. Billy narrows his eyes at the man. "I think she's a pretty little gringa you got there, but she needs a real man, not some kid like you-" "You're fucking pathetic, y'know that?" Billy spat, venom laced in his words.

Ollinger seemed to have sobered up when he said that. He looked at Billy with pure rage. "What’d you call me, boy." His blood was boiling at this point. "I said." Billy steps closer, "You're fucking pathetic." He threw a punch at his jaw as Ollinger falls back from the impact and his lack of balance.

At this point the room was cheering the two on as they throw punches at each other. Ollinger swings at Billy but misses, he was glad he wasn't drinking as much that night. He then lunges and aims towards Billy's stomach, knocking him onto the table as all its contents fell on the floor. "C'mon Billy get up!" Garrett pushes him back up.

Billy had a busted lip and a cut on his eyebrow as a trail of blood fell down the side of his face. However, it was nothing compared to the damage he did on Ollinger. "Call a whore one more time, I dare you," Billy yelled, throwing punch after punch as he was on top of him. "Billy! Billy stop!" Billy heard your familiar voice but didn't stop. All he could see was red.

From the moment you stepped foot out of your carriage that dropped you off in front of the pub, you knew a brawl of some sort was going on inside by the way you could hear cheers and the noise of furniture being knocked over.

You hurriedly walk in. You couldn't see what was going on over the tall people who stood in front of you. Weaving your way through the crowd to try and see what the commotion was about, you bumped into Jessie. "Woah there-" "Jessie, what's going on? Where's Billy?" You quickly ask him before your eyes fall onto him.

He was on top of Ollinger, throwing punch after punch. Your eyes widen in horror as you try to go to him but was held back by Jessie who had an arm around your shoulder. "Let me go! I need to stop him Jessie!" You struggle against his iron like grip. "Can't have you get involved in fight, sweetheart. Can’t let you goin' home with a scratch on your pretty face now can I?"

He says against the side of your face as you squirm, helplessly watching the fight. There was blood everywhere and you feared that Billy had killed Ollinger. "Jessie!" You thrash in his grip before he gives Garrett a look who nods and quickly breaks up the fight.

"That's enough, Billy. You got what you wanted," Pat and few other guys pulled Billy back who was breathing heavily, blood covered his shirt and hands. Billy spits on the ground. "All right, show's over!" Jessie yells as people start leaving. Ollinger gets pulled up by a few others as he's dragged away, his body limp.

"Don't you fucking go near her! You hear me Ollinger?" Billy yells before he spits more blood out. "Enough, Billy!" You exasperated, kneeling beside him to take his face in your hands, inspecting it.

Thank god there wasn’t much damage, only a busted lip and a cut on his eyebrow. “For god’s sake Billy! What happened now?” You search his eyes as he stares back at you, blankly. You catch Pat and Jessie looking at you before their eyes find the floor rather interesting. You stand up, dress already spotted in crimson as you brush the loose strands of your hair behind your ears, “What happened here?”

You made a beeline to your bathroom. Billy closed the door behind him and sat on the edge of her bed, he let out a groan before falling back onto the soft mattress. He starts to sit up when he hears you walk back in, a first aid kit in your hands.

You hadn't spoken a word to him since the two of you left the pub and came back to your house. You were grateful that your parents were away for the week, they would have thrown a fit if they saw you covered in blood and Billy batted up.

Moving to stand in between his legs, Billy lifts his hands up to rest on your hips but you slap his hands away. "Darlin'-" "I don't want to hear it Billy," You say, annoyance dripping from you voice as he hisses at the contact of disinfectant on his cut.

Billy lets out a sigh, his eyes trained on your angel like face as you attend to his face. "I'm sorry, I really am-" "Five times. Five times you've gotten into a fight because of me." You scoff, tilting his head firmly as you go over his eyebrow.

"You told me you would stop Billy. I can't keep playing nurse with you because you can't bite your tongue," You make eye contact with him. "You expect me to just sit around and do nothing when some guy is calling you my whore?" Billy's voice gets louder as he furrows his eyebrows at you.

You gulp, eyes looking everywhere but him. "Look at me!" He grips your chin with his thumb and index finger, "You've known me long enough to know I ain't that type of guy," He spoke, his eyes darkening.

"And you've known me long enough to know that I can handle whatever they call me. I don't need you getting into a fight every time someone foul mouths me," Your eyes begin to water. You hated seeing Billy like this. You hated how most of his fights revolved around the topic of you.

"They're all worth it, doll. You're worth it." Billy wipes away the singular tear that managed to escape. You sniffle lightly before he pulls you onto his lap, your arms securing themselves around his neck as he strokes your hair.

"Try not to get into another fight because of me," You mutter, your fingers drawing random shapes on his back as you hear him chuckle, "Can't keep any promises, darlin'" He kisses your hair as the two of you hold each other.

#billy the kid #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid fanfiction #billy the kid 2022 #william h bonney #billy the kid x you #william h. bonney #tom blyth x you #tom blyth #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth x reader #fanfiction #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #tbosas #tbosas imagine #william h bonney x reader #kid antrim #tom blyth fanfiction

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solarmorrigan · 10 months ago

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I'm late, I'm sorry, but here's the full fic from this WIP post yesterday!

[CW: bullying, references to canon racism and violence, mentions of recreational drug use]

Steve makes it to the bathroom down the hall from the shop classroom—the one that’s far from the cafeteria and always empty during lunch, where people really only come to smoke, anyway—before he completely loses his shit.

“Son of a bitch!” He’s almost screaming as he hauls off and punches the wall of one of the bathroom stalls, putting every ounce of anger and frustration and humiliation into it, hitting it so hard that the whole construction rattles.

“Motherfucker,” he hisses, shaking his hand out, because it had hurt, and then he winds up to do it again, to make it hurt more, because at least he’s in control of that much, at least it’s anything but what he’s feeling right now.

“That’s a good way to break your hand, y’know,” a voice comes from the doorway, startling Steve into pivoting and aiming his fist at whoever is coming after him now.

He stops short when he sees nobody but Eddie goddamn Munson standing there, cringing into a startled flinch to protect his head as Steve nearly swings at him.

“Jesus shit,” Steve barks, dropping his fist and stepping back, shaky with adrenaline. “You walk like a fucking ghost, Munson.”

Munson peeks out of his defensive crouch before straightening up and sending a meaningful glance at the stall wall. “Somehow, I don’t think you would’ve heard me even if I was making all the noise in the world.”

Steve shrugs, his shoulders staying up near his ears in a defensive slouch. He can feel something dropping out of his hair and down the side of his face, and he feels the humiliation all over again as he tries to swipe it away.

“What do you want?” he asks, beyond caring if he sounds rude; he thinks he’s entitled, considering.

This time, Munson shrugs, a rolling, casual thing that belies the sharp look in his eyes. “Came to see if you were okay, I guess.”

Steve snorts. Is he okay?

Like, in the grand scheme of things, the answer is a really shaky “maybe.” But lately? It’s more of a resounding “no, not fucking really.”

Aside from everything else – aside from the nightmares, aside from the headaches, aside from the fact he’d had to drop basketball after his concussion, aside from having no real friends or allies at school now that he and Nancy aren’t together – aside from all that, there’s Billy fucking Hargrove.

Hargrove, who had taken all of a month to start pushing Steve’s buttons again. Who had taken less than a few days after that to realize that Steve wasn’t going to push back.

And then he’d started looking for the boundary line, pushing and pushing, shoulder-checking Steve in the hall, tripping him in the single class they share, knocking shit out of his hands, shoving him when his back is turned, all the while spitting names and insults, until it had culminated into today’s fiasco: dumping a carton of chocolate milk over the top of Steve’s head in the middle of the cafeteria with a deeply unconvincing “oops.”

It had gone dead silent, every eye in the room on Steve’s red face and Hargrove’s triumphant grin, while Steve had only been able to stand there, shaking with startled rage as milk had sluiced out of his hair and seeped into his collar and down the back of his shirt, knowing that he couldn’t retaliate.

He couldn’t.

He’d marched out of the cafeteria, shame and anger growing as voices had bloomed up behind him, already gossiping and speculating.

So, no, actually, he’s not really okay.

But instead of saying any of this to Munson, he just scoffs and turns away, looking towards the sinks.

“Wouldn’t have expected you to care,” he says, injecting as much lazy indifference into his voice as he can, trying to armor up the way he used to. “The number of speeches you’ve given about how much me and my group suck, I’d have figured you’d be the first to say I deserved it.”

Munson doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Steve doesn’t look back to see if the barb landed. He doesn’t really care, he just wants the guy to go away so Steve can finish his meltdown and clean up in peace.

“Not your group anymore, though,” Munson finally says.

Steve shrugs, pulling a wad of paper towels from the dispenser; might as well move on to cleanup if Munson isn’t going to fuck off. He guesses his little breakdown can wait until he gets home.

“Hasn’t been for over a year, now, right?” Munson goes on. Steve says nothing, using a dry paper towel to try to blot up the mess. “And whatever you were like then, you’re… less like that now. Like, anyone paying attention can see you’re kinda trying something new this year.”

Steve ignores the way that makes something catch in his throat. “Thanks for the endorsement,” he drawls. “I’ll put it on my college apps: Not as much of an asshole as I used to be.”

“It’s a start,” Munson says, and Steve glances up in time to see him shrug in the mirror.

“I guess,” Steve mutters.

“And, uh – hey, I grabbed your stuff,” Munson says, holding up the binder and notebooks that Steve’s attention had glossed over until now. “Some of it’s kinda… milky, sorry.”

Steve blinks. “Uh. Thank you,” he says, stunned for a moment into sincerity.

Munson shrugs again, putting Steve’s stuff up on the narrow shelf on the wall that no one ever uses to hold things because it’s probably never been cleaned. Not like Steve’s stuff is clean now, anyway.

Steve turns back to the sink, wetting a few of the paper towels and waiting to see if Munson is going to leave now.

“What I can’t figure out–” nope, apparently he’s staying, “–is why you’re in here punching the wall, instead of out there, punching Hargrove.”

At least that makes more sense; he’s here out of curiosity, not concern.

“I mean, most people would’ve hit him for that,” Munson goes on. “I would’ve.”

But Steve’s already shaking his head before Munson’s finished speaking. “Not worth it,” he says firmly.

“What, afraid of a little suspension?” Munson asks, almost teasing. “Pretty sure the school would let their golden boy off with a slap on the wrist.”

“Not anybody’s golden boy anymore,” Steve snaps, scrubbing a wet paper towel through his hair in a vain attempt to get some of the rapidly-drying milk out. “I dropped basketball, remember? Didn’t even go in for swimming this year.”

“Oh, yeah,” Munson says, like he’d genuinely forgotten. “Sorry, not really into the whole… sports scene. Like, at all.”

Steve shrugs. “Whatever. Not important. I don’t give a shit about being suspended. I don’t even care if he hits me back. Not like I need another knock to the head at this point, but – whatever.” Steve shakes his head. “It’s just that he could– there are other things he could do.”

In the mirror, Munson’s eyebrows go up. “What, does he have blackmail on you or some shit?”

Steve raises his brows right back. “If he did, do you really think I’d tell you?”

Munson tips his head to the side. “Yeah, okay, fair enough.”

“Anyway, he doesn’t have blackmail, he has… leverage, I guess.” Steve lets out a harsh sigh and gives up on his hair for now, wetting a paper towel to try to get some of the milk off his face and neck, instead.

“…are you allowed to tell me what that is?” Munson asks after a moment.

And for a moment, Steve thinks about it. The only people in school who really know are Nancy and Jonathan, and he’s asked them to follow his lead in just – not talking about it. He hasn’t told anybody any version of what happened in the Byers’ house, or why Billy seems to have made him his personal stress ball. But who the hell would Munson tell? All his nerdy friends in his game club?

(No, no, that’s not fair. Steve doesn’t even know those people, and he’s trying not to be that guy anymore. He doesn’t have to be nice, but he shouldn’t be unkind.)

(The point stands, though – who would Munson even tell?)

“Do you know why Hargrove beat my face in back in November?” Steve finally asks, avoiding Munson’s eyes in the mirror by focusing very hard on getting the tacky milk off his hairline.

“Well, I’ve heard most of the rumors by now, I think. Heard Hargrove’s version of events, as has pretty much everyone, I’m sure. Haven’t heard yours, though,” Munson says, his voice tilting up in interest. “I just figured it was because he hated you.”

Steve lets out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, well, you’re not wrong. But also…” He pauses for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “There are these kids I babysit. Sort of.”

“Sort of?” Munson presses.

“Well, most of the time it feels like they’re just ordering me around like a bunch of entitled shitheads. But I make sure they get where they’re going without, like, disappearing, and that they don’t have so much unsupervised time that they manage to get themselves killed,” Steve admits.

“Uh huh,” Munson says; he sounds… a little confused, but not disbelieving. “And you ended up with this gig, how?”

“It’s Nancy’s little brother, and his little nerd friends,” Steve says (he’s allowed to call them nerds because he knows them, and it’s true. And besides, it’s affectionate).

“Aaand you’re still doing it now? Even though you and Wheeler aren’t…”

Steve shrugs. “They grew on me. But that’s– that’s not the point. One of the kids is, uh. Hargrove’s stepsister. And the night me and Hargrove got into it, I guess she wasn’t supposed to be out.”

“Ah,” Munson says.

“Yeah.” Steve sighs, giving up on the milk as a bad job; he probably should’ve run off to the gym showers instead of a shitty bathroom. He turns and leans back against the sink, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at the floor near Munson’s scuffed sneakers. “So he came looking for her.”

“So… Not that I’m advocating handing over children to pieces of shit like him, but – like, wouldn’t it have been the technically correct thing to do, to send her home with what is legally a family member?” Munson asks.

Steve passes a hand over his face. “She was terrified,” he says quietly, feeling a little like he’s betraying Max’s trust by saying it out loud, by saying it to a stranger. “She was terrified of what he would do if he found her there, where she wasn’t supposed to be. Terrified of what he would do to one of the other kids if he caught them together, since he’d specifically warned her to stay away from him.”

“What’s wrong with this other kid?” Munson asks, brows furrowed.

“Nothing,” Steve bites out. “He’s smart, and he’s brave, and he’s, like, slightly less of an asshole than some of the others, but what Hargrove cared about is that he’s black.”

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Munson snaps, and Steve’s hackles raise, ready to defend his kid all over again if he has to, but before he can get anything else out, Munson goes on. “We already knew he was a racist piece of shit, but – a fucking kid?”

Steve subsides. “Yeah. A fucking kid. So I told them all to stay inside and I went out to try to head him off. Or at least keep him out of the house. Which, obviously, I failed at.” He lets out a derisive little laugh, aimed solely at himself. “He knocked me on my ass, knocked the wind out of me, got past me– and by the time I was able to get up, he was already– he was inside, and he had that kid by the collar, up against the wall– one of my fucking kids–” Steve breaks off, the same rage and terror from that night choking up in his throat again. After the day he’s had, his emotions are all too close to the surface, too near to bubbling out, and he rubs at his nose, trying to stave off the angry, exhausted tears he can feel pricking at the corners of his eyes. “So I decked him.”

“Good!” Munson exclaims, and for a moment Steve actually manages a real smile.

“Yeah,” he says. “Then he hit me back, which, like, obviously. I was expecting him to, but– I mean, I might’ve actually won that fight if the fucker hadn’t hit me in the head with a plate.”

The expression that crosses Munson’s face is almost comically shocked. “What?”

“Yeah,” Steve says again, running a hand over his jaw, thumbing almost unconsciously at the still-fading scar where the porcelain had sliced him open. “I’m a little fuzzy on shit after that. Like, I remember being on the floor, and him kneeling over me, and hitting me, and hitting me, and then– I dunno, nothing.”

Distantly, Steve realizes that the expression on Munson’s face has turned from ‘comically shocked’ to ‘mildly horrified,’ but he’s a little too lost in the blurry memory of that night to do much about it.

“Holy shit, how are you not dead?” Munson blurts out.

He looks like he immediately regrets asking, but Steve finds he’s actually grateful for the question. He’s glad to move the conversation along.

“Max.” He smirks over at Eddie. “Hargrove’s stepsister. I guess she, uh– threatened him with a baseball bat? Saved my ass.”

That’s a deep over-simplification, but Steve can’t think of a way to explain the presence of heavy sedatives in the Byers’ house, and, anyway, she had threatened him with a baseball bat. The kids had all taken great joy in reenacting the way Max had nearly neutered Hargrove with the nailbat, actually; it’s almost like Steve had been there (and conscious).

“Holy shit,” Munson says, and whichever part he’s referring to, Steve is inclined to agree.

“Yep. So I was out fucking cold at the time, but the kids all insist that she got him to agree to leave her and her friends alone, but…” Steve shakes his head. “Hargrove is a fucking psychopath. I don’t trust him to keep that promise. So, at least if he’s focused on me, he might leave her alone. But if I hit back…”

“You think he’ll retaliate by going after one of your kids,” Munson says, only a hint of teasing in his words at the end.

“I know he will,” Steve says; Hargrove had implied as much more than once. He crosses his arms back over his chest. “And they are my kids.”

Munson throws his hands up, as if in surrender, but he’s definitely smiling now.

“I’m serious,” Steve insists, close to smiling himself. “They think I’m stuck with them, but they’re the ones stuck with me.”

“Lucky them,” Munson says, and– what?

“What?” Steve asks.

“Look, you’re either a better actor than, like, everyone in the drama club, or you at least seriously believe what you told me, which is more than I can say for Hargrove and whatever shit he came up with about the two of you getting into it over… what, his car was better than yours? He’s better at laundry ball? I don’t fucking remember, and it doesn’t really matter, because it was clearly and pathetically fabricated,” Munson says with an authoritative nod. “You, at the very least, really give a shit about those kids. So, yeah. Lucky them.”

“Well,” Steve scrambles for a moment, trying to cover the way he actually feels like he might start fucking blushing, “if I’d known all I had to do to change your mind about me was tell you about a fight I lost, I’d have done it ages ago.”

And now Munson’s back to smirking at him. “Seeking my esteem that badly, Harrington?”

“What? No. I mean – not– not specifically yours, it’s just… like, there’s not really an easy or fast way to make up for being kind of a dick for the last… while.” Steve runs his hand through his hair, stopping with a grimace when he remembers the drying milk. “You just have to keep not being a dick and hope people give you a chance. So, like, compared to that, convincing you was easy.”

“And all you had to do was get a severe concussion first,” Munson drawls.

Steve rolls his eyes. “I didn’t say it was severe.”

“You got hit with a plate,” Munson deadpans, and Steve can’t quite help the resulting flinch, at which Munson almost immediately softens. “Sorry.”

Steve shakes his head. “It’s fine.”

Mouth screwed to the side, Munson eyes Steve for a moment, glancing over his shirt and up to his face before gesturing at him. “You want some help with that?”

Steve blinks at him. “What?”

“Your whole… hair situation. You could bend ov– like, you could lean over the sink and I could, uh. Try to rinse it for you. Or whatever,” Munson offers, awkward but apparently sincere.

It sounds like a stupid as hell way to try to rinse his hair. The sinks are small, and not exactly high off the ground; Steve would have better luck just going to the locker room and showering it all out. His soap is there, too, and an extra shirt.

On the other hand, Steve really doesn’t feel like leaving the bathroom yet. He’s pretty sure lunch is going to end soon, and encountering everyone during passing period sounds like a nightmare. In here, with Munson, it’s quiet. It feels almost safe.

“Yeah, sure,” Steve finally says, and Munson looks nearly shocked that he’s accepted.

Credit to him, though: he doesn’t back out. He just slides his jacket off, tosses it up over the wall of one of the bathroom stalls, rolls up his sleeves, and gestures for Steve to lean over the sink.

“Hot or cold?” he asks, going for the taps.

“Hot,” Steve answers immediately; he doesn’t need any other cold liquid on his head today.

“Hm.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Munson says airily, turning on the water. “You just kinda strike me as a cold shower guy. Like, up at dawn, go for a run, take a cold shower – all that weird jock shit.”

It isn’t intended to mock, Steve realizes as Munson tests the water temperature—the school pipes take forever to heat up—but to tease. It’s a joke, and Steve is invited in on it. And anyway, it’s… actually kind of close to the mark, so Steve doesn’t say anything at all for a moment as he puts his head as close to the faucet as he can get it and Munson places one cupped hand over the back of his neck and uses the other to scoop water over Steve’s hair.

“Cold water is better for your hair. Not that you’d know anything about that.” Steve finally says, hoping that his own teasing tone carries even with the way he has to raise his voice to be heard over the running water.

Luckily, Munson sounds amused when he answers. “Oh! Shots fucking fired. I see how it is!” Even as he’s pretending at being offended, his fingers stay gentle against Steve’s scalp as he tries to scrub out the dried mess, and Steve fights very, very hard not to shudder.

He can’t remember when the last time someone touched him with gentle intent was. Maybe he’d gotten a hug from Dustin last week?

Shit, that’s fucking pathetic.

He tries even harder not to lean into the touch, into the surprisingly kind hands on the back of his neck and on his scalp, tries hard not to act like some kind of touch-starved weirdo and make Munson regret offering to help.

The irony of the fact that Steve is trying not to act like a freak in front of Eddie Munson is not lost on him.

After another couple of minutes of Munson manipulating Steve’s head this way and that, doing his best to be thorough, he lets Steve go entirely and shuts the water off.

“That’s probably as good as I’m gonna be able to get it,” he says, pushing another handful of paper towels at Steve as he stands up.

“Better than I could’ve done here,” Steve says with a shrug, rubbing the paper towels over his hair and grimacing as he can feel it frizzing in about a hundred different directions.

When he finishes, he turns to look in the mirror, watching in real time as it droops over his forehead and tickles at his wet shirt collar. Munson stands next to him, watching without judgement, but with what feels like an inappropriate amount of fascination.

“Well, I’m not going to lie to you,” Munson says at last, “you look a little like a sad, wet dog.”

Steve’s eyes snap to Munson with a glare. “Gee, thanks.”

“Some people are into that!” Munson insists, holding his hands up placatingly. “That droopy aesthetic, with the big, brown puppy eyes. Someone might just wanna scoop you up and take you home to take care of you. It’s a thing.”

Do you want to? – the question comes immediately and unbidden to Steve’s head, and he quickly shakes it away. They might be on amiable terms right now, teasing each other a little, but he isn’t sure that wouldn’t be a bridge too far.

(He isn’t even sure it is teasing. For a moment, he’d had the genuine urge to ask.)

“Anyway, I think most of the mess is out of your hair, but I’m pretty sure your shirt is toast,” Munson goes on, gesturing to the brown stain around the collar, over one shoulder, and probably down the back.

If he’d been wearing a darker color today, it might’ve been alright, but of course today he’d chosen light blue. Steve sighs, plucking at the front of the shirt. If he can’t salvage it, he might as well ditch it; it’s getting uncomfortably stiff and tacky with the dried milk, and he’d honestly rather stick it out in his undershirt for as long as it takes him to get to the locker room than walk around with evidence of Hargrove’s little stunt all over him.

He untucks the shirt and yanks it over his head, no need to be careful of his hair, emerging from the depths of it to find Munson staring at him in a stunned sort of silence.

“What?” Steve asks. “If it’s wrecked, anyway, I might as well get rid of it. I’ve got a spare shirt in my gym locker I can go grab.”

Munson blinks at him, almost like he’s trying to clear his head. “Or!” he practically shouts – possibly louder than he meant to, since he continues more quietly, “Or, you could just ditch for the rest of the day. I mean, you have any particularly interesting classes after lunch you feel the need to attend?”

“Not really,” Steve admits with a huff of a laugh. “But leaving after that feels a little like– letting Hargrove win. Like I’m retreating or some shit.”

“Nah, don’t think of it like that.” Munson tosses an arm over Steve shoulders, waving his other in front of both of them, like he’s trying to show Steve a grand vision and they aren’t both just staring at the ugly tile on the bathroom wall. “Think of it as cutting class and getting free weed from Hawkins High’s most esteemed dealer.”

Steve turns to look at Munson, staring at him more closely than he’s ever had reason to, and realizing there are tiny freckles on his face. “What, seriously?”

“Sure.” Munson shrugs. “Lemme smoke you out, Harrington. Seems like a good way to let your stress go for a bit – though I am just a little biased.”

“Why?” Steve asks; he doesn’t understand the sudden turn this day has taken, the sudden and bizarre kindness offered that he doesn’t even know what he’s done to deserve.

Munson’s eyes slide away from Steve, though his arm notably stays draped over his shoulders. “Been where you are. It’s not great. And, I mean, if it had happened last year, then, admittedly, I probably wouldn’t have given as much of a shit. Jock on jock violence, whatever. But you,” he glances back at Steve, “you’re genuinely trying to be, like, a good person. And I don’t think you should be punished for that. I think, in fact, that you could probably use a friend.”

“I…” The words stick in Steve’s throat, because what the hell can he even say to that? On anyone else, Steve would have assumed an ulterior motive, but Munson had infused it with so much awkward sincerity that Steve can’t help but realize it’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s said or offered to do for him in… he’s not even sure how long.

His silence must stretch on a little too long, though, because the hopeful light in Munson’s eyes fades a bit, and he begins to slide his arm off of Steve’s shoulder. “Or, y’know, you can tell me to fuck off, because I’m, like, way overstepping some boundaries, and–”

“We should go to my place,” Steve blurts, while grabbing Munson’s wrist for some insane reason.

“What?” Munson blinks over at him, (understandably) startled.

“My place. We should go there to smoke. If you still want to.” Steve could cringe for how stilted the whole thing is coming out. “I want to be able to take a real shower.”

Munson stares at him for a moment longer before laying a hand over his heart with a gasp, suddenly leaning heavily into Steve’s side and forcing Steve to wrap an arm around his waist so they don’t both lose their balance.

“I see how it is!” Munson gasps dramatically. “My sink shower just wasn’t good enough!”

Steve holds in a laugh. “Your sink shower was… fine. But I’ve got milk dried in other uncomfortable places, so unless you want to wash my back for me, too, we should go back to mine.”

Munson’s gaze snaps back to Steve, something a little odd in it, and – oh. Oh, that hadn’t sounded quite like Steve had meant it. It had sounded a little like an offer of the kind you don’t go around making to just anybody.

Steve braces himself, waiting for the reaction (he doubts if Munson would get any kind of physical, but there will probably be an awkward pulling away and sudden remembering of something he has to do literally anywhere else that afternoon), but all Munson does is break into a sly smile and say, “I could, but I’d have to charge you extra.”

Steve can’t help it: he laughs, giving Munson a good-natured shove, who finally releases Steve but doesn’t stumble more than a couple of steps away.

“Meet you at my place?” Steve offers, balling up his shirt and dropping it on top of his notebooks as he grabs them from the shelf. “Half an hour?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Munson gives him a corny little salute before grabbing his jacket from over the stall wall and preceding Steve to the bathroom door.

“Munson,” Steve finds himself calling out, just as the other boy’s hand closes around the door handle; Munson glances back and Steve fights the urge to look away. “Uh. Thanks. For, like… yeah. Thanks.”

Whatever meaning Munson takes out of Steve’s absolutely eloquent verbal vomit of gratitude, it makes him smile. “No need for thanks, man,” he says. “I’m honestly a little surprised to say it, but the pleasure was definitely mine.”

And then he disappears out the door, leaving Steve in the bathroom wondering how the hell his day had taken this turn, and just what destination it’s leading him to.

And thinking that he’s honestly a little excited to find out.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things post s2 AU #stranger things #this one is a bit long just as a heads up; about 4.6k #is it good? I dunno but I had fun writing it and you guys seem interested so here we go!#eddiesteve #solar wrote

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hanbinics · 21 days ago

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!boxer matt who...

: ̗̀➛ was kicked out of school for fighting too much. (shocker!) after, he started fighting for fun until people started betting on him and the money came through. that's when he started to take it more seriously.

: ̗̀➛ has a strict routine in and outside of the gym. he's up early in the mornings for a quick run and spends most of his evenings in the gym.

: ̗̀➛ always calls you his lucky charm, but he has a love/hate relationship with you attending his fights because of all the sketchy people that show up to place bets. he only lets you come if chris is with you. (nick hates the violence of it all)

: ̗̀➛ "don't let her out of your fuckin' sight, y'hear me? i'll hop out of that ring to beat your ass instead if somethin' happens to her."

: ̗̀➛ believes in only letting out his pent-up frustration in the gym or the ring, but.. he's a total hothead. one wrong look sent your way, and he's bruising his knuckles on some kid's jaw.

: ̗̀➛ "dude, you knocked that fuckin' kid out cold.. he's prolly gonna wake up thinkin' he dreamed it all," chris would chuckle, but matt would lowkey think about going back at the thought of him reliving the image of you.

: ̗̀➛ knows he's good at what he does, but when he loses, it hits him hard, especially when you're there to see it. he has a lot of pride, and even though he insists it's just about the money, he doesn't like to feel like he failed.

: ̗̀➛ "'s fine, baby, just... jus' give me a fuckin' minute, yeah? 'm fine." but you watch as he punches his own locker with a bare fist, knuckles already blooming shades of purple and blue as you flinch from the sight.

: ̗̀➛ is only soft with you. once he's calmed down, breathing heavy, he's letting you crouch down in front of him, the tension in his body easing up as you take his face into your hands and press soft kisses to the cut on his brow, and the dark hues tinting the skin of his right eye.

: ̗̀➛ only learns to let his guard completely down when you show him that he doesn't have to be strong for everyone. that it's okay for him to need someone else, which is good, because fuck, does he need you.

©hanbinics

: ̗̀➛ tags: @pearlzier.

: ̗̀➛ divider by @rookthornesartistry.

#©hanbinics #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets x reader #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo headcanons #✧.*『matt hours』 !boxer matt

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bucketofpaint · 11 months ago

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1 2 3 master post

The baby justice, or whoever they were, were starting to get on Danny's nerves. Well, basically, everything did that currently, but not as much they did.

Don't get him wrong. He understood what it was like to be a teen hero, and he respected them for it. But it didn't stop him from immediately groaning when he ran into bird boy and arrow girl.

It started out a pretty okay day. He got a passing score on a test, and it had been a slow work, which meant he'd could go home early. He had got to his trashy apartment and immediately passed out. although Danny wished that he'd could sleep till next week, a few extra hours were still much appreciated.

But fate had other plans. Danny had woken up late at night in a cold sweat, flashs of green and loud yelling, repeating in his head over and over. Danny got up and made his way to the window. He needed to get some air and to clear his head.

_____________

" I'm tired of just sitting here." Artemis complained, fiddling with one of her arrows absencemimdly.

" we need to be ready for anyone that leaves the building." Robin snapped back, not taking his eyes off of the building below.

Artemis already knew this, of course, but it didn't change the fact that she would rather be in the building, actually fighting instead of just waiting.

Her and Robin were stationed on the adjacent building to the one that was the base for a human trafficking scheme. The reason for them being outside and not inside with the others was because, apparently, the top people of this scheme were known flight risks.

____________

Danny drifted through the night sky, trying not to remember his nightmare. Trying and failing. He couldn't help it. The images just kept popping up in his head. mostly ones of his parents' faces filled with disgust, rage, and just pure hatred,while they tried to blast him to bits.

Danny gets pulled out of his head by the sound of a whisper argument taking place on the rooftop below. Danny looks down and is immediately regretting going outside. The two people arguing were members from Young Justice because, of course, they were. If Danny didn't know any better, these run-ins were starting to seem like no coincidence. He definitely wouldn't put it past CW.

If Danny remembered right, the two people were Robin and Artemis. It looked like the two were on a stake out or something. They kept bickering back and forth, seemingly unaware of the goon that started to creep up behind them. Danny watched and prepared himself in the case he needed to step in.

When the goon was about a foot behind them, Robin swung around and swiftly knocked the guy out. But as soon as he did, multiple men started popping up. Some jumped from the next roof, others climbing up the sides.

Robin and Artemis seemed to have it handled. Things quickly went down after the goons pulled out wepons that shot similar green blasts that left smoldering spots.

It wasn't long before the duo was surrounded, hands up in surrender.

One of the men walked towards them, reaching out to grab them. That's when Danny stepped in, keeping his invisibility and, sucker punching the dude out cold.

All the goons charged at the two, who at the moment were frozen, both looking around in confusion before joining in the fight.

Danny was exhausted by the time the last guy was knocked out. Which was not saying a lot because he had been exhausted for weeks, but now, even more so. Danny looked over to Robin and Artemis, noticing how they were both tense and staring right at him. He looked down...

Opps... Apparently, he had dropped his invisibility during some point in the fight. Well, there's not much to do about it now.

___________

Robin stared at the teen, who stared back with a pair of neon green eyes. The teen looked down for a few seconds, then looked back at them and shrugged.

"Cuffs?" The mysterious meta asked

"Um...what?" Robin asked completely confused.

The meta huffed and gestured to the unconscious people.

"Catch." Artemis said, walking past him and tossing the meta some rope. " Just tie their feet and hands for now." The boy nodded.

After all the men had been tied up, the three stood in silence, looking back and forth at each other.

Robin cleared his throat. "So, who -" the meta cut him off with a scoff.

Robin tried again.

" I'm Robin, and you are." Robin asked, keeping his body language friendly.

"Nun-ya." The boy replied. Hmm, it was a unique name. Maybe he wasn't a meta, but an ailen. "Business." The boy finished before fading away.

Robin stood there in disbelief, looking in the area the boy used to be, as Artemis laughed behind him.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #danny is very hangry #dpxdc

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angelwings-crossbowstrings · 8 months ago

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Blood Ties Chapter 20

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Graphic depictions of illness; allusions to major medical procedure; accidental violence (m on f); allusions to child abuse

A/N: Finally. I make no excuses and a lot of apologies. Daryl is going through it right now but it's not just my normal whump. Reader gets to find herself again. I say that as vaguely as possible but you'll see at the end and in coming chapters.

A day and a half. A full fucking thirty six hours. The group still hadn’t returned. While it was logical to be concerned for their safety, you just couldn’t seem to look any further than the man on the bed no more than a foot in front of you. His fever raged and his breathing deteriorated, shallow rattles and painful fits of coughing. Still, those were less distressing than the moments he would wake, not remembering where or when he was.

During one such episode, you had been a peer from school. An innocent girl who had followed him home one day to catch crawdads in the creek behind his house. His one friend that he had to hide in the crawlspace until he could get his father to beat on him instead of looking for you. He didn’t have any friends. You were special, he said. The bruises were worth it.

Of all the ways to get Daryl to talk about what had happened to him, this wasn’t what you had expected.

To make matters worse, he had become violent, waking in a rage that no one could understand. He was swinging punches and trying to leave the bed, Lori holding you away from him while Hershel of all people tried to subdue him alone. It was the grating of his own voice against his throat that had brought on the coughing, the force of which had eventually tired him out.

You had appreciated the concern but had asked Lori not to come between you and Daryl again. Though she had retreated in a huff, Carol later assured you that she was only concerned for the safety of you and the baby. She wasn’t angry and she wasn’t judging Daryl for something over which he had no control.

Things were quiet at the moment. You hummed and carded your fingers through the archer’s hair. He had been sleeping without interruption for a little over an hour, but his breaths were seeming even more labored.

You were beyond exhausted. Two or three hours of sleep, barely eating between bouts of nausea, you were nearly to the point of being confined to that sickbed right alongside Daryl.

“How’re the patients?”

You didn’t lift your head, only your eyes. “Baby and I are fine. Daryl sounds worse than when you were here earlier.”

“Let’s take a look at you two and then I’ll examine Daryl.”

There was no point in arguing. You didn’t have the energy. Sitting up straight in the chair, your back protested from the time spent bowed over the edge of the mattress, but you continued the journey to relax against the backrest. Your hand never released Daryl’s.

Hershel motioned toward your sweater in a silent request for permission and received a mumbled knock yourself out in reply. Baby Dixon was still for the moment after hours of kicking and rolling and seemingly trying to fit a foot between your ribs. The veterinarian smiled gently upon removing the stethoscope and rolling down your sweater. You were grateful for the small gesture, likely would have left it up if he hadn’t taken the initiative.

“Heartbeat’s strong. Seems to be doing just fine according to my limited knowledge. You really should get some rest yourself. Eat something, drink more.” His stethoscope was already nearing Daryl’s chest when you noticed it; the twitch of a hand before fingers curled into a fist.

“Daryl, no!” You weren’t meaning to hurt the old man, inwardly wincing when you heard the thud of his body hit the floor. You were just quick enough to shove him out of the way, Daryl’s fist barely grazing your cheek instead. “Hey, you’re okay. It’s Y/N. You’re sick.” You kept your voice soft, right next to his ear, holding him firmly in a way he couldn’t escape in his weakened state.

“Hershel! Y/N!” Carol and Lori burst into the room, Beth just behind them. You heard the girl begin to cry and tend to her father but the other two were quiet.

“Where—dunno—can’t think—”

“I know, Daryl. It’s the fever.” He was coughing into your shoulder, his skin hot and dry where it touched yours. “You’re safe. I’m here. Thumper’s here.” The archer made a sound in his throat and by some miracle, you knew what it meant. Otherwise keeping your hold on him, you fumbled for his hand and pressed it firmly to the side of your belly. “Feel that? You woke them up too.” Your lip was wobbling, your voice threatening to do the same. “They just want their daddy to rest now so they can too. How ‘bout it, hmm?”

You pulled back slowly, steeling yourself for whatever it was you would see in his eyes. You almost whimpered when there was nothing short of exhausted recognition.

“D’I hurt—”

Your cheek burned and felt wet, but you shook your head. No, you wouldn’t tell him while he was like that. “I tripped. Face-planted. You definitely would have laughed.” He didn’t believe you, that much was obvious, but thank heavens for Thumper and a well placed punt straight to Daryl’s palm. His reaction was sluggish, head bowing to watch his hand rub circles over that spot.

“Hey, kid. Go—easy on—your mama.”

“How about you go easy on their mama too and drink some water for me?” With your hand behind his head, you slowly guided him to his mountain of pillows. “Just a bit, okay?” He gave no answer. His palm continued to caress your bump. You wondered if he would still be so affectionate once he realized you weren’t alone in the room.

With one hand raising his head slightly, the other tipped the cup to lips. He didn’t drink as much as you’d hoped but it was something. His eyes were closed but his fingers remained steady, curling and straightening over where you could feel the ripples of movement. It was as if they could sense one another. Daryl was calm, only the cough moving him at all. The baby’s movements were gentle waves below his hand.

You didn’t dare move, allowing him the comfort he likely didn’t even know he was seeking. If you were being honest, you were relaxing a little as well. With a sigh, both tired and contented, you slouched but stayed next to him.

“Is he okay?” You asked, finally rolling your head toward the others. Beth and Carol were getting Hershel to his feet, Lori pacing behind them with an expression you just didn’t like.

“I’m perfectly fine.” The man answered for himself, patting Beth’s hand so that she would release him.

“I’m so sorry.” You whispered, risking placing your hand over Daryl’s. When his fingers went still, you gently guided his palm back and forth over your belly.

“You did nothing wrong, Y/N. I should have been more—”

“He’s going to seriously hurt one of us.” Lori interjected, continuing her pacing. You shot her a warning look, eyes narrowing when she shook her head. “I understand this is out of his control, but this is Daryl and out of all of us, he’s hardwired for violence.”

“Lori, you should go.” You spoke quietly, not willing to disrupt any rest the archer might be getting. You could only pray that he hadn’t heard her careless comment.

“We should just take shifts to come check in on him. You could rest and eat, we’d probably hear him cou—”

“Are you seriously suggesting I leave him alone up here?” Where the anger was coming from, you had no idea. Maybe it was the exhaustion or the concern for Daryl that was constantly eating at you. It hardly mattered, you’d made it clear that she was crossing a line. Your tone was dripping with venom. “Carol.” You beckoned, eyes remaining on Rick’s wife. “Please, take Lori downstairs before I say or do something I would definitely regret.”

“Come on, Lori.” You heard Carol say quietly, a heated glare continuing between you and the other woman as she was led from the room. Once the door closed, your anger dissolved as quickly as it had materialized. “Beth—Hershel, you know—”

“We know he’d never hurt any of us on purpose.” The girl said in that sweet southern tone of hers. “You neither.”

“Having two expectant mothers in one room with enough charged energy was just asking for an explosion of some sort. Now don’t you stress yourself over it any further.” As he neared, Hershel squeezed your shoulder. “Think you might be able to keep him from becoming agitated long enough for me to take a listen?” He lifted the stethoscope.

You nodded with a sniffle, wiping away a tear. “Yeah. If you can go around, I have an idea.” The old man rounded the bed while you crawled up beside Daryl, gently pulling him onto his side and against your chest. Once situated, you pulled his hand back onto your belly, and though he didn’t move it, you felt him relax a little further into you. “Daryl.” You whispered into his hair. “Hershel’s gonna listen to your lungs. The stethoscope is gonna be cold but your skin is hot from the fever. I’m right here. And it’s just Hershel.”

You carded your fingers through his hair while Beth leaned over you to clean the cut on your cheek, hands just as gentle as her father’s. There wasn’t so much as a flinch when the cold instrument pressed against the archer’s back. You paid attention to the his reactions—or lack thereof—but you also watched Hershel and the way his expression fell. It was then you knew he would tell you nothing good.

“His right lung is full of fluid. It’s hindering his ability to breathe normally. The cough is still productive?” You nodded slowly. “May I see?” Well, that was disgusting but Beth carefully pinched one edge of a cloth and carried it to Hershel. You didn’t care to have that ick on your fingers.

Your attention turned back to Daryl, his weight heavy on your side, chest rattling, cheeks flushed, and lips pale. When would the group be back? Were they okay? Should you plan to leave?

“Y/N.”

“Hmm?” You didn’t look up from stroking the archer’s cheek until your name was said again. The expression you were met with was grim. You had your concerns about the pink frothy liquid that accompanied the mucus. Fuck. You should have told Hershel immediately. “What is it?”

“If I don’t do something about the fluid in his lung, it is possible he may—for lack of a better term—drown.”

“When they get back—” He cut you off with a shake of his head.

“This can’t wait that long. We don’t know if—we’re not sure when they’ll return. I need to see if I have anything that I can use. What we were able to grab from the farm was extremely limited and even that has been cut in half with being on the road.” Hershel was mentally running through inventory as he began to leave the room with his daughter in tow, turning but not meeting your eyes. “I’ll need him awake for this.”

Start waking him up now. That’s what he meant. You were horrified. You had no idea how to thoroughly explain to Daryl what was going to happen, because you didn’t know. Why did he need to be awake? ‘Oh, you’re going to drown slowly if we don’t do this now.’ How badly would it hurt?

“There’s a—time an’ place—to be pullin’ on—a man’s hair an’ this—ain’t it.”

You sputtered out apologies and let go immediately. “I didn’t even realize—I’m so sorry.” He wasn’t even looking at you, half lidded eyes blinking slowly and staring toward the wall. Your tight grip returned but this time on his bicep, pulling him more snugly into your side but easing when he buried his face against your sweater to cough. Gross, but what could you do? “Daryl. Do you think you could try to—”

“Heard the—the old man. M’awake.”

The two of you laid in silence, not necessarily uncomfortable but with the looming fear of what was to come and if could even possibly help him. Your fingers ran a trail up and down his arm while his hand splayed out over your belly, eventually sliding around to your side to shift you toward him. Face to face, you could now clearly see the exhaustion, the way the illness was slowly tearing him down, and the resignation in his eyes.

“I’m scared.” The words slipped from your tongue unbidden, and though his expression didn’t change, he brought a fiercely trembling hand to your cheek, hot against your skin.

“Me too.” The admission shocked you to your core. Daryl always strived to be strong for everyone. Hell, it was what led him to his current position in the first place, trudging on while ill just to make sure you and the group—mostly you—were fed. “Didn’t fall.” His thumb barely brushed the bruised cut on your cheek. “M’so sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

He opened his mouth, presumably to speak but quickly turned his face into the pillow to cough harshly, the force rocking his body hard enough to jar your own. You twisted to reach for a cloth, shushing him when his hold grew tighter, openly displaying his discontent at the thought of you moving away.

With gentle swipes, you wiped his face and then the pillow, folding the fabric before laying it above your heads for easy access.

“I don’t wanna do this without you. Thumper needs their daddy. And,” you swallowed, face crumbling and tears stinging your waterline, “I need their daddy too.”

“Ain’t goin’ nowhere.” Why the hell was he comforting you when he was the one being ravaged by an illness that would have been easily remedied in the old world? You really were weak, dependent. Where was the headstrong woman that had shown no fear on her own during the first days of the turn? “Stop—stop lookin’ at me—like m’already dead.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, pulling away abruptly to cover a fit of barking coughs that left him groaning, face lined with pain while he gasped and heaved to catch his breath.

You had no chance to offer him any sort of comfort before there came a knock and Hershel entered, Carol at his heels. “We have what we need. Well, what can be used in place of what we need.” He held some sort of thin tubing, a syringe, and a plastic mixing bowl, while Carol carried a mostly empty bottle of whiskey, some gauze, tape, and a knife. Even with your wide eyes displaying a naked fear, Daryl never turned to look. “Is he awake?”

“Get it—get on with it.” He grumbled, weak but to the point.

Hershel merely shook his head with that fond smile he had developed toward your group since the farm. “Carol, could you sanitize the knife?” Seeing her pour a portion of the liquid over the blade made your stomach turn, or maybe it was your own illness rearing its ugly head to take advantage of your weakened state. Regardless, you looked away, finding Daryl’s eyes on your own. “First, I’ll need to find the right spot. You’ll have to be completely still for this, son.”

“Yeah, okay. Got—got it.” The archer wheezed. In your peripheral, you could see the veterinarian’s arm moving, pressing and counting the ribs in search of the correct site. Daryl was rigid, his eyes squinted but remaining open and focused on you with the occasional flitting down to where your swollen belly pressed against him. His hand fisted into the fabric of your sweater on your hip.

“Okay, I’m going to—”

“Just do—just do it for christ sake.”

The old man was still behind him for a moment, long enough to draw your gaze to his. He nodded, a silent request for you to do what you could to keep Daryl still and compliant. Drawing your eyes back to the dull blue that was watching you with such intensity that you felt crushed under the weight, well, that must have been enough for Hershel to continue.

Daryl made a noise in the back of his throat, the slightest spasm of pain indicating that the knife had pierced his skin. Hershel and Carol were moving behind Daryl, communicating through whispers and gestures while you felt Daryl’s arm begin to shake, your sweater pulling tight against your body.

“It’s okay. You’re doing so good, Daryl.”

His eyes suddenly clamped shut, your sweater rising away from your hip when he twisted his fist. The seconds felt like minutes that felt like hours of watching him tremble with fever, weakness, and restraint. Finally, there came the blessed sound of liquid hitting the bottom of the plastic bowl.

“Catheter is in place as best I can tell. We’re getting fluid. Don’t hold your breath, son. Nice and slow.”

You could tell he was trying, each breath a wheeze laced with pain. Slowly, you moved your hand from his arm to his face, just brushing your fingers over the stubble on his cheek. “We need to start thinking of names, you know. Thumper is cute but the baby isn’t a rabbit even though they feel like one sometimes.” Daryl’s eyes opened, tears pricking at the pinched corners. You knew he couldn’t answer you and so did he, probably couldn’t even if he tried. “I try to picture what they may look like. I hope they look like you, big blue eyes and maybe even a permanent scowl so that when they smile, it’ll be the most beautiful thing we’ve ever seen.” You thumbed away a tear that escaped down across the bridge of his nose toward the other eye.

When his throat spasmed, you thought maybe he was going to be sick but then he began to cough, loud and agonizing and dry. Your wide eyes found Hershel’s, the calm in the old man’s gaze fizzling out your terror.

“It’s okay. Just keep him still. The coughing forces out more fluid. It’s almost over.”

As painful as it was for Daryl, it was agonizing for you to watch him suffer with no way to help him. “It’s almost done. You’re doing great. Stay still and stay awake. Can you look at me?” He answered with the smallest of nods, an almost imperceptible movement. Carol moved closer to Hershel. It was torture to not know what they were doing out of your sight but at the same time, an immense relief. The zip of tape being pulled and torn was surely a sign of the procedure coming to an end.

But it was when Daryl drew in the deepest breath you had heard in two days that you felt yourself relax, truly and utterly just drain of tension, placing your forehead against his. “It’s over. Just rest now.” You focused on his even breaths, just the slightest wheeze, the barely audible rattle. He was limp against you, his hand still tangled in your sweater but no longer holding on. The archer was exhausted and sleep had claimed him almost instantly.

“Hershel?” You need not ask anything. He knew.

“It won’t last long, but it buys us some time. The incision was deep but small. I will examine him in a little while, make sure it stays clean. In the meantime, listen for any struggles with breathing. Let him rest.”

You nodded, your forehead brushing against Daryl’s. The used supplies had been gathered and the old man had already made his way downstairs. You caught Carol’s eye as she started to close the door.

“An hour.” You stated flatly.

“What?” The other woman stepped back into the room, her brow drawn.

“I’m giving them one hour. If they’re not back, I want the list and I’m going. There won’t be a discussion.” No room for argument. “You sit with him while I’m gone. You’re the only other person he really trusts.” She looked as if she might object, but when her shoulders relaxed, you knew you’d won. With a nod, she left the room.

Without Daryl’s desperate attempts to breathe, it was so quiet, a sound you welcomed and reveled in so deeply. Hershel had opened a doorway and you’d be damned if you’d let it close. Moving your arm below his to wrap around him, low on his back to avoid the incision, you used the leverage to pull yourself as close to him as you could with baby Dixon barring the way. The archer didn’t stir. Pressing your lips to his forehead, you felt the fever still burning hot, only fueling your determination to get what he needed if the group failed to return.

“I don’t care what you say or what you think. I don’t care why you think I shouldn’t.” You spoke softly, a near whisper. “I love you. And I am not losing you.”

Of course you had fallen asleep. Daryl was resting comfortably, albeit still feverish. You were cozy beside him. You felt safe while simultaneously feeling like you were guarding him. It had been more than an hour, that much was certain. Hershel hadn’t given a timeframe regarding how long the treatment would help Daryl and you were taking no chances. It was time to take things into your own hands.

As fate would have it, just as you began to disentangle yourself from Daryl, there were frantic footsteps on the stairs. Fuck. Daryl was too weak to move if walkers had wandered into the area. The door burst open without a knock, revealing a breathless blonde teenager wearing a brilliant smile.

“They’re back!”

You stared. It was all you could do, your voice had seemingly decided it was in just as much shock as you were. Besides, she had already disappeared, leaving the door wide open. A sob worked its way up your throat but you blocked it with your teeth, looking down at Daryl as he slept.

He would be okay.

The glare you had fixed on Hershel settled the maybe you should wait outside argument rather quickly. You weren’t leaving Daryl to be manhandled should he wake up confused.

A herd had blocked their direct path back. Of course one had. Because the world was cruel and unforgiving and the dead were always hungry and always looking for a life to take.

Rick, Glenn, and T-Dog were bringing up supplies while Maggie assisted her father with Daryl’s care. An IV was started immediately, after carefully searching for the perfect vein due to his state of dehydration. They didn’t have the cannulas to waste. Fluids were started right along with a bag of something called Azithromycin—an antibiotic, Hershel had said. They had scored several bags of each, along with a few other things that could be used for injuries or illnesses. But when they brought up the oxygen tanks, you could have sobbed.

The nasal cannula placement was what finally woke Daryl, bloodshot eyes scanning the room before you saw the first signs of panic. “Ssh. It’s okay.” You slid your hand under his and squeezed his fingers softly. “They’re back. Just let Hershal do his thing, okay? And then I’ll chase them all out. I promise.”

You were so relieved to see his usual scowl shift into place, even if it was somewhat diminished. “Fine.” He rasped.

“Good. Now, since I have your attention—don’t touch that—” you swatted his hand away from the cannula, “take these pills.” Hershel wanted around the clock alternation of acetaminophen and ibuprofen every four hours to get the fever under control.

With an utterance of something containing the word bossy he let you place the pills on his palm and tossed them into his mouth, swallowing them dry while you sat there offering a glass of water. There was a look shared between you that would have been amusing had either you had the energy to laugh. “Thanks.” He whispered, his hand shaking when he accepted the water. He only took a couple of sips but you wouldn’t hound him just yet. The fluids were going and he likely would take a while to feel like doing much of anything.

“We’ve done everything we can do for now. Just need to keep an eye on those bags and hang new ones when they’re empty. Keep giving the fever reducers and, son, try to drink when you feel like. The sooner you’re taking in fluids on your own, the better.”

“Leave that oxygen right where it is too.” Maggie added in a no-nonsense tone.

Daryl’s nod was sluggish, his chin almost staying on his chest during the gesture. The commotion, everyone moving, even while he did nothing more than take a couple of pills, had left him running on fumes. As promised, you were up, hand on your lower back to rub away the ache there as you used the other to shoo everyone out of the room.

Absolutely nothing was stopping you from crawling under those sheets with him and sleeping for four glorious hours. You had asked Carol to keep an eye on that. Thank heavens he was lying in the middle of the bed. The side with the IV needed to be avoided.

Actually lying down with the intention to sleep, knowing Daryl was receiving the help he needed, you were just done for, already drifting off and somewhere between awake and asleep when you felt Daryl’s knuckles brush against yours. You took his hand without a second thought.

“Are you sure about this?” Carol asked, standing with you in the doorway of the bedroom. She was nervously glancing back and forth between you and Daryl. Aside from a few bouts of those harsh, barking coughs, he had slept the entire four hours and barely woke enough to choke down the pills before being pulled right back under.

“I’m sure.” You secured your knife in the sheath on your thigh and wiggled Daryl’s gun holster a little to the side so it wasn’t gouging into the bottom of your belly. Your rifle was long gone and you weren’t about to alert anyone else to your plans by choosing a different weapon. So with both your bag and Daryl’s crossbow on your back, you were ready to head out.

“You don’t have anything to prove, Y/N. We’ve lived off less. There’s a little jerky left and we have some cans—”

“I’ll be fine, Carol. I’m only going to be a few hours and hunt small game. If I happen across a doe that I can lift, I’ll take that chance, otherwise, it’ll be squirrels, rabbits, raccoons, or opossums. Yum.”

“What do I tell him if he wakes up and asks for you?” She shifted nervously.

“The truth. We don’t lie. If he tries to come after me, knock him out or barricade the door.”

She followed you to the top of the stairs but not down, staying close to Daryl as she had promised. “You really don’t need to go.”

“I do. I’m the only other hunter in this group. I won’t have him trying to go out sooner than he’s ready to make sure there’s enough.” You paused on the bottom step, staring at the door and then toward the kitchen where everyone else was gathered. Chewing your bottom lip, you climbed up two more so she could hear you without alerting the rest. “If I’m not back before his next dose, I’m headed west. That’s where they can look.”

Carol looked so stricken and unsure so you offered her a smile, as she always did for you. Finally, she conceded. “Okay.”

“I’ll be back soon.”

#murda writes #blood ties #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon angst #daryl angst #daryl x female reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #pregnant!reader #sick!daryl dixon

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sanjisboyfie · 1 year ago

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day in the life as a strawhat pirate

-> very messy, very cute, very fluffy.

-> i don't think any pronouns are used except for "you" but i had a male reader in mind when i was writing it...SHOUTOUT

you wake up - luffy's foot is in your mouth, but also at the same time, his other foot is wrapped around your legs??? he stretched in his sleep and has trapped you in some very odd body trap...it takes you yelling at him to even wake him up.

sanji is the first to wake up, usually, and when you get to the kitchen the breakfast is waiting for you. now you have to sleepily fight for your share of the food because luffy is hangry (his default mood when he wakes up is hangry because he hasn't eaten yet...since he just woke up...) and then also there are 9 other hands that are fiending for all the dishes on the table.

after surviving a war in the dining room, you hope to take some time to relax. but that doesn't exist on the thousand sunny since chopper and usopp are quick to get into their shenanigans. they call you over, wanting to show you a creation that the sniper made, only for you to get a pie of whip cream to the face. they called you over so that they could prank you and now were rolling on the deck laughing about it.

instead of skewering them alive, you decide to take the peaceful route in going to the bathroom to wash your face off. oh, but franky is already in the bathroom taking his morning shower.

you get a face full of cyborg and a very girlish scream escapes his mouth when he realizes that you are standing at the entrance, watching him sing into the shower bottles - naked and all. he then screams out for how he can get no privacy, but you're just too determined to clean your face of the whip cream that you don't really pay him any mind.

when you get out of the bathroom, now having peace in mind, there is a rabid sanji and zoro fighting each other. they're at each other's throats for whatver reason and when they catch you walking down the hallway, they involve you in their fight...for whatever reason.

they're asking you to take a side, who was right in their idiotic fight, but they're both shouting so loud and at the same time you can't even process what either of them are saying. you can only blanky stare back at them as their huffing and puffying to regain their breaths from their nonstop yelling.

and then their expressions go back to being angry, but not at each other - at you, for seemingly being too neutral and not staking a claim to one of their sides. it's all just their adrenaline ramped up to a thousand (even though it's barely been an hour since they've woken up) and now they're trying to make your reaction the same.

you can only sigh, shoving your palms into their faces, and making them clear a path for you to leave the hallway. this makes their bickering turn back to each other instead, their shouts echoing all over the thousand sunny.

just when you finally think, maybe robin or jinbe could offer you comfort in peace, no! brook and nami are actually fighting about something on deck. as you listen in you hear about how brook is the one stealing their undergarments at night - that's enough for you to step in and deal with the perverted skeleton. a punch to his skull is enough to knock some sense into him (nami laid out a couple of her own on his head before you arrived)

nami thanks you in a sigh of exasperation. she offers you a slice of the tnagerine she had peeled, which she gingerly feeds you when you accept. and her face mimics that of an angel, eyes closed as she smiles kindly at you...before she barks at brook to make up for his odd, perverted actions by playing her her favorite song.

and even though you do enjoy brook's violin playing, that is just not your definition of peace right now. maybe any other day, but just not right now.

so you go below deck and finally find your favorite people: robin and jinbe. you practically collapse on jinbe, murmuring about how tired you were despite the day just starting, and robin laughs at your fatigue. she begins to read aloud for the three of you whilst jinbe's hand comfortingly goes up and down your back. she looks at your figure, observing your peaceful expression, before fluidly going back to reading aloud the history book she picked up.

jinbe is laid out against the cushioned seats so really, he's acting as a big bed for you and you definitely do not pass up the chance to catch a quick cat nap. and hopefully this time when you wake up, your captain's foot won't be in your mouth <3

(tags are platonic - its just to reach the audiences)

#one piece imagines #one piece x reader #one piece x male reader #luffy x male reader #usopp x male reader #zoro x male reader #sanji x male reader #nami x male reader #franky x male reader m #brook x male reader #robin x male reader #jinbe x male reader #very cute fluffy #i wish we got more one piece fillers of what the crew just does on sunny when its floating through the sea #not at an island #because thats a different type of filler #on sunny theyre really left to nothing but their own devices #entertaining one another as best as they can so no one goes actually insane #UGHHH give us more filler like that i beg

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lovelybucky1 · 1 year ago

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Smile for the Camera

Kinktober Day 6- Pegging

warnings: AFAB!reader, pegging, sex tape, feminization kink, dom/sub dynamics, breeding kink in a roleplay setting, sex toys, mentions of exhibitionism, 18+ minors dni

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Being as big of a film buff as Neil is, he’s always wanted to make his own movies. He’s never been good at coming up with stories and he’s a terrible writer, so he never made it very far in that aspect. He has found that the unscripted, off the cuff types of movies are more his speed. Those movies just happen to be porn.

It didn’t take much convincing to get you on board with filming yourselves having sex. You trust Neil with your life, and you think it’d be fun to watch it back, seeing his face while you fucked him.

When you have sex, you’re pretty much always dominant. Weather it’s a dom/sub scene or just regular old sex, you call the shots and Neil listens to your directions. He’s a good boy like that.

Since he proposed the idea, you and Neil have made six film, all with varying scenes. Tonight's scene is something you have done together in private, but never on camera.

The camera is set up on a tripod at the foot of the bed while you and Neil face it. He is on his knees and elbows, back arched like a good boy as you hit it from the back.

You started off slow and built up the pace, just how he likes, and now you're fucking him roughly. Your hips slap against his ass, filling the room with clapping. With each thrust, Neil makes a punched-out little moan.

"Talk to me, baby. How's that feel?" you ask.

"So- fuck- so good," he says, voice high pitched with pleasure.

"This is how we should always fuck," you say as you grab his hips tightly. "You know I do it better."

"Fuck me so good," he moans.

Neil's cock bobs between his legs, useless and untouched as it dribbles precum onto the bedspread. While you can't see his face right now, you've fucked him enough to have a pretty good image of his pinched expression in your mind.

Neither of you are any good at acting, but you like to throw in some dirty talk to spice up the video- and because Neil loves it.

"You take my dick so fuckin' well, baby. Your little pussy is gripping me. You love my dick that much, huh? You don't wanna let it go?"

Instead of answering you, Neil can only whine. He reaches between his legs and grabs his dick to find that it's already wet with his arousal.

Your strap on is bigger than Neil's dick, a fact that is as humiliating to him as it is hot. You did have a smaller one that was comparable in size to Neil, but he complained that it wasn't enough. Your boyfriend is a little size queen, and now whenever you stuff him full of your cock, he's reminded of what he lacks.

You reach forward to twist your fingers in Neil's hair and pull his head off the mattress. You force him to look straight at the camera, showing off his undoubtedly fucked-out expression.

"Blow a kiss to the people at home, baby," you instruct. There isn't actually anyone at home; the two of you are the only ones who will ever watch this. The fantasy of an audience is enough to get Neil going, however.

"Maybe I'll hide this tape on the shelf at the video store. Bet the pervs in the porno section will never expect to see the store owner getting fucked in the ass by his girlfriend," you laugh.

You let Neil's head fall back on the mattress and you drag your nails down his spine, making his back arch. He's so sensitive to your touch, especially on his back and sides where he's ticklish.

You wrap your arm around his waist and drape yourself over his back to rut into him deeply. From the pitch of his moans alone you can tell that Neil is close. He jerks his cock roughly, but you don't care enough to chastise him for getting himself off. You want to see him cum on your cock.

"I'm gonna cum in you, baby. Want me to fill you up?"

"Yes, yes!" he whines.

"Yeah," you say into his ear. "Gonna knock you up. You're gonna be a mommy. You want that, Neil? You want my cum bad enough?"

He nods with his forehead pressed against the mattress. One day you’ll get a strap on that actually cums, but for now you’ll just have to play pretend.

“Cum in my dick, Neil. Make that pussy cream all over me.”

Like the good boy he does, he clenches around your length and jerks himself roughly to completion. He cums all over his fist and the bed with a strangled moan.

“Good fucking boy,” you whisper against his neck.

He falls limp onto the bed and you remain on his back while you both catch your breath. Neil’s breathing is shaky and erratic as he comes down from his high and for a moment you wonder if he needs his inhaler.

“Thank you,” he breathes out.

You press a kiss to his neck before slowly pulling out of him. You spread his cheeks to look at his hole and trace the rim with your finger.

“Can you turn around for me, baby? I want to show everyone your wrecked little pussy.”

Neil nods weakly and sits up on his knees to turn around. He bends back over and allows you to keep him spread. His hole winks, clenching around nothing.

“Is it messy?” he asks. He’s not even playing it up for the scene, he’s just that much of a slut.

“You’re ruined, honey.”

“Good,” he says.

With a smile and a gentle pat to his hip, you get off the bed and shut off the camera.

#neil lewis #neil lewis x reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #neil lewis smut #watching the detectives #kinktober #kinktober 2023

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auroravictorium · 2 years ago

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would've, could've, should've (k.b.)

if i never blushed then they could've never whispered about this.

Summary: kaz blames himself for reader's kidnapping, and reader fights back as best she can.

Pairing(s): kaz x fem!reader (established relationship) Word Count: ~3.9k Warnings: heavy violence (kicking, punching, gun is mentioned but not used), mentions of blood, reader is repeatedly knocked out via ether Genre: angst + action

Author's Note: not as much kaz in this one, but fret not! he appears more in the next piece, which is already in the works and should be up in the next few days! i hope you all enjoy!

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(GIF from capinejghafa)

The leatherbound volume slammed against the creaky door of Kaz's office the moment Inej shut it behind her. Splinters rained down onto the floor, and he glared at the mess.

His gloves were tight against his knuckles, where he gripped his cane, and his chest heaved with fury. Raw anger coursed through him; for once, he could not feel the slime of a corpse against his skin. Instead, rage had set his flesh alight, burning away the feeling of death. The harbor was absent, recoiling in favor of the temper he fought hard to keep in check as much as he could in the Barrel.

Kaz reached for his jar of ink and threw it as hard as he could against the door. But the sight of ink and glass spraying across his office did little to ease his anger or the panic rising in his chest.

He hunched over his desk, his gloved palms pressing flat against the surface. His breathing was too fast, his shoulders trembling as his mind wandered. Pekka Rollins hired mercenaries to take you. They were taking you south. Who knows what they had planned? Who knows what resources they had at their disposal?

Who knows if a few hours ago would be the last time he ever saw you, and it was tinged by his inability to choke out how he felt? Before you left, you'd squeezed his hand and murmured three simple words.

I love you.

It was funny how three words from your lips made him feel like he wasn't Kaz Brekker, like he didn't regularly hurt people or steal or threaten violence against those who got too close to his business for comfort. With just three words, you made him feel like maybe some part of him could be Kaz Rietveld still.

And he didn't fucking say those words back, though his throat burned and his mouth opened and:

"No mourners," he said instead.

"No funerals," you responded, with no idea how much he wanted to tell you he loved you back. No clue of how the words sat on the tip of his tongue, tasting like the fruit his father pretended he didn't see Kaz and Jordie swiping from the harvest. Tasting like a part of him he thought had drowned, a part that you pulled to shore and put air back into.

He didn't fucking say it. He should've said it.

Kaz squeezed his eyes shut. He could hear you in his mind: Breathe. Think.

He couldn't think, and there wasn't enough oxygen in the room for his lungs. All he could think about was you, at the mercy of some mercenaries who probably didn't give a damn that he was Kaz Brekker and could gut them without blinking.

Kaz slammed his palms against his desk hard enough that his skin stung beneath his gloves. He grabbed his cane from where it fell and limped around his desk and past the mess of his office. His door trembled on its hinges as he ripped it open and stormed past; he moved over to the crumbling stairs and brought the blunt end of his cane down on a step he knew was particularly creaky.

The entire staircase rattled, and Kaz heard the quiet shuffling of feet as Inej, Jesper, Nina, Wylan, and even Matthias started coming up the stairs. They stopped on the landing when they saw Kaz, shadows cast across his face by a dim oil lamp in the corner and icy eyes darkened by anger, turned the color of the True Sea.

"Mercenaries, you said?" Kaz said quietly, gaze flickering to Inej. "Hired by Pekka Rollins."

Inej nodded, reigniting his fury. But not at her, nor at Jesper. Being angry with them had never crossed his mind, though he saw their haunted faces as they sized him up and tried to figure out how much he blamed them for Y/N's situation.

Kaz clenched his jaw and turned on his heel. "Meeting. Now." He stormed back toward his office and kicked the inky glass shards out of his way as he entered his office. They skidded across the floor, some disappearing beneath furniture, others twirling until their sharpest edges pointed upward.

The Crows piled into Kaz's office. Jesper leaned against the wall with Wylan, ducking his head and looking down at his hands. The hands that, just an hour ago, had shot at mercenaries in an attempt to protect his friend. The hands that failed him. Wylan slipped his hand into one of Jesper's and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Nina sat in the chair across from Kaz's, and Matthias stood within reach. His eyes tracked Kaz as he moved from his desk to the smudged window and back. For once, Matthias could guess what the demjin was thinking, could see it on his face. Kaz was angry, yes, but Matthias could read the terror written beneath from the grip on his cane to the ticking of his jaw.

He found himself sympathetic toward Kaz, and Matthias didn't often feel anything but mild vexation toward the man. As he glanced down at Nina, nervously tracing the shape of her thumbnail with her fingertips, he understood Kaz's fury; if someone took Nina, he would respond the same way. And Kaz would be the first person he'd call to get her back.

"Where do we start?" Inej said quietly, positioning herself at the window and glancing at the street below. She twirled one of her knives across her knuckles, unable to keep her hands still.

"Describe the mercenaries," Kaz finally said. He clenched his fist around the crow's head of his cane as he sat to take the pressure off his leg. It was difficult to sit down; he wanted to be on the streets, burning the city to ashes to find you. But he would be of no use to you if he didn't have a plan and his leg went out beneath him. Think, Brekker. "Then we make a plan, and we get Y/N back."

SIX HOURS LATER. NOON.

You awoke to the feeling of a carriage rattling along an uneven gravel road. The back of your head thumped against the carriage window, and your skull ached from the repeated impact against the blacked-out glass. Air seared against your nose and throat with every breath you took, and it was a struggle to open your eyes with the heaviness weighing them down.

Two of your captors sat across from you, their masks on and eyes on you. One held a stained rag and a brown bottle in one hand, and the other pressed a gun to your forehead. Out of instinct, your fingers twitched to disarm him, but you quickly found that your hands were tied behind your back with sailing rope, and your ankles were bound with the same material. The rope chafed against the skin of your wrists and ankles, and it took every ounce of your self-control to not show your fear or pain.

"Now, don't make any sudden moves," the man with the gun said calmly. His voice was thick with an accent. He clearly wasn't from Kerch; you guessed he was a sailor by training and a mercenary by choice, if the rope around your limbs was any evidence.

You sized him up and considered your immediate instinct to spit in his face. He wouldn't shoot you in close quarters and, if your suspicions were correct, wouldn't dare injure you without a particular gang leader's go-ahead. You didn't have many options, and anything seemed more appealing than sitting there with a gun against your temple.

A wad of spit went straight into his eye, and you swung your legs upward toward his head to jerk yourself into a sitting position. It lacked decorum and grace, but you didn't have much room to move. Unfortunately, your feet only struck the man's shoulder, making him hiss and lower his gun. He shoved your legs off him, and you teetered on the edge of the bench opposite your captors.

Son of a bitch, you thought. You would've said it aloud had it not been for the man with the bottle opening his cargo and dunking the liquid inside onto the rag in his hand. The sickly sweet smell from earlier struck your nostrils, and you immediately shut your mouth. Your lungs burned as you held your breath, but you refused to pass out again.

When I get my hands free, I'm gutting you and using you as fish bait. You wiggled around to cause as much mayhem as possible, hoping to distract from the jerking of your shoulders as you fought against your bindings. You brought your feet down on the bottle man's boots, making him grimace and nearly drop the toxin. "She's a fighter, ain't she?" he snarled. "Open her mouth."

The first man lurched toward you, dropping his gun into his lap and grabbing your face with his hands. You writhed, jerking your head to the side to free it as you locked your jaw shut as tight as possible. Your teeth ground together, and black spots danced around your vision from the beginnings of a lack of oxygen. You could either breathe in the toxin that knocked you out or pass out of your own volition; both choices led to you being no closer to escaping.

Save your energy. You didn't want to give in. You didn't want to see your friends' faces swimming in your mind, warped and twisted by whatever your captors were poisoning you with.

You had no choice.

You let the man think he had successfully pried your mouth open, and you bit down hard on the flesh between his thumb and forefinger. He roared, jerking his hand back and cursing in Ravkan. His blood filled your mouth, and you gagged on the bitter taste, spluttering to get it off your tongue. It dribbled down your face, onto your clothes.

"Touch me again, and you'll lose the hand," you hissed. You spat at the first man again, and red speckled across his face like grotesque freckles.

With a fierce glare at your captors, you inhaled deeply. The relief of your lungs expanding was quickly counteracted by the weight of the toxin pulling you down, and you collapsed back onto the seat of the carriage, your head colliding with a sickening crack against the door handle.

SIX HOURS LATER. DUSK.

The next time you opened your eyes, you were in a dark cell. The rope had been removed from your limbs, but the skin burned from chafing. A searing pain threatened to split your skull in half, and you could hardly turn your head to take in your surroundings.

As your eyes adjusted, you could see a single oil lamp in the corner, unlit and covered in dust. Beside that was a bucket filled with water; you could tell the water wasn't clean from the horrid smell wafting toward you, and you held back a gag. Gingerly, you sat up from the makeshift pallet of ragged blankets you'd been set on.

Bad idea. Immediately, the world swam before you, and a violent wave of nausea overtook you. You swallowed the bile rising in your throat and carefully laid back down to ease the throbbing discomfort in your skull. You pressed a hand to the back of your head, and it came away slick and red. Shit. How were you supposed to fight your way out of here if you couldn't even sit up without the world doing flips?

A metallic clang echoed down the hall, and you turned your head toward the sound. Pain shot down your neck and spine, and you could barely suppress your hiss of pain; your pain was forgotten as a pair of boots stomped into view. You lifted your gaze to find none other than bottle-guy, looking unhappy to have found you awake. He wore no mask this time, and you took the chance to scan his face and memorize every detail so you could describe him if you made a ran for it. Smeared with dirt and grime. Dirty hair of unknown color. He looked like just about every sailor you'd ever met.

He grimaced at you like you were the problem, and you glared back at him. "I was hopin' you'd die in your sleep," he said matter-of-factly. His eyes, dark as night, skimmed your form, and disgust crossed his face. "I can't figure out why we were hired to deal with ya."

"You don't seem to be the brightest bunch," you shot back. You pushed yourself onto your elbows and surveyed your captor with just as much distaste. With some satisfaction, you noted some of his buddy's blood had stained the hem of his trousers after you spat it. "You'll be lucky if Pekka Rollins doesn't have your head after you're done with me, just to cover his tracks."

Your captor barked a laugh. "I'd like to see him try, sweetheart." He drummed his knuckles against the metal bars of your cell, and his eyes roamed over you again. A predatory glint shone in them, and his hand dropped to the ring of keys on his belt. "Now, what makes you special enough that he's willing to hire us instead of doing the dirty work himself?"

He unlocked the door to your cell and stepped inside. You kicked yourself into a sitting position and shoved yourself back against the wall. The world did somersaults, and you fought hard to keep from collapsing again as the blood rushed from your head and black spots danced in your vision.

The man crouched before you and reached out as if he intended to stroke a finger down your cheek. You shoved his hand away and nearly lost your balance. "Don't touch me," you snarled.

He just laughed again. "Feisty, aren't you?" He reached out again, and you kicked your leg up as hard as possible between his legs. He grunted and dropped his hand, slumping to his knees.

Taking the opportunity, you pushed yourself forward enough to swing your fist toward his face. With terrible vertigo and the feeling like you were about to collapse into a useless heap, you were pleased when your hand collided with his nose with a satisfying crunch. Blood sprayed across your knuckles and down his face, and he reeled back with a shout of surprise.

"You bitch!" he growled, bringing his hand to his face and glowering at you over his fingers. He lurched forward like he might strike or strangle you, and you kicked out again with much less force than the first time. Your strength was waning, and he knew it. He caught your ankle and pushed your leg away with ease. But before he could get any closer, a hand grabbed the collar of his jacket and hauled him back.

"Now, Sergei, don't antagonize our guest," a new voice said. His voice was quiet and thick with a Fjerdan accent. You looked up while blinking away the blurriness in your gaze and found a third man who hadn't been in the carriage with you. Judging by the ease with which Sergei obeyed him, you knew he was in charge. He reeked of authority and pride.

"What, want the chance to do it yourself?" you snapped. Though he pulled Sergei away before he could bash your head into the wall, you didn't appreciate the man looking down at you like he'd done you a favor. You couldn't help but bristle as his eyes roamed your body, and you would've curled up to cover yourself if you could will your body to move. "I didn't think mercenaries went so low as to kick someone while they're down, especially when they intend to hand them over to someone else."

He wasn't as tolerant of your spite as Sergei was. Without releasing Sergei, he brought his foot down on your knee. The joint seared beneath his weight; your kneecap threatened to shatter, and the tendons nearly snapped as he pressed down until it almost bent in the wrong direction. You cried out, your head falling back against the stone wall. The impact agitated the gash on the back of your head, and you could feel blood soaking your scalp. It seeped down the back of your neck, and a soft groan of pain slipped past your lips.

"It might be wise for you to consider that we can do what we wish to you until Pekka Rollins arrives," he hissed. He dropped Sergei, who gingerly got to his feet with a smirk playing on his lips. If you could, you'd shoot them both to see if they would still be smirking. "I suggest keeping your mouth shut and your limbs to yourself."

A haze of pain clouded your vision, the adrenaline of inflicting some revenge on one of your captors dissipating. You forced yourself to nod, hoping he'd take his weight off your knee before your traitorous tears of agony could fall. You blinked them away, and a trembling sigh escaped you as the Fjerdan stepped back and off your knee. Immediately, you pressed a hand to the tender flesh and whimpered as a sharp ache shot up and down your leg.

Definitely bruised, and the kneecap might be broken. How the hell am I supposed to get out of here like this?

He left without another word, taking Sergei with him. As he passed, Sergei grinned through the bars at you, his teeth glimmering like a monster's, and offered a taunting wiggle of his fingers. You dropped your gaze to the ground and your outstretched legs before you, one swollen and the other scraped from who knows what.

You heard Sergei laugh as he moved down the hall after the Fjerdan leader, and the sound rang in your ears long after he was gone. Mocking, gleeful, haunting.

Tears slid down your cheeks without your permission, and you impatiently wiped them away. There's no time to cry. You thought of Jesper and Inej, who had definitely told Kaz about your disappearance by now. If you thought of them and how strong they were under pressure, maybe you wouldn't think about the searing pain in your body. If you thought of Matthias, damn near unbreakable, perhaps you could channel his strength. Nina, her bravery and wit, no matter the situation.

Your friends, your family, who had to be trying to find you.

Your thoughts drifted to Kaz. His scheming face. His smirk. His fingers laced with yours. The fierceness in his eyes. How he looked at you before you left, with glimmering eyes and hair falling into his face from running his fingers through it too many times. Kaz had looked at you like there were a million things he wanted to say, to do. A rare moment of softness that made your heart ache as you considered where you were now.

Somehow, you managed to slip into an uneasy sleep. You dreamt of men with masks and blood seeping from your mouth as you inhaled the sickly sweet toxin they kept giving you. Behind the masks, they laughed and laughed, even as you began to choke. It was impossible to break from the nightmare; something held you down, kept your eyes shut.

Finally waking was a mercy, though you should have feared whatever awaited you once you awoke. Blinking slowly and fighting against lingering fatigue, you noticed two bowls of thin broth had been shoved into your cell. The scent had long faded, and dust floated in a thin layer on top.

How long had it been since you were last awake?

You forced yourself into a sitting position, ignoring the aching of your muscles, and you investigated your injuries. Your knee was severely bruised and couldn't bear the weight of even your fingertips on the skin, and dried blood crusted your scalp and the back of your neck.

Eat, you thought. You needed to regain some of your strength if you stood a chance at surviving whatever Pekka Rollins had planned for when he arrived. Even better, perhaps you could escape before surviving him was necessary.

You dragged yourself across the stone floor toward the bowls of broth. It felt like your muscles hadn't been used in days, and your right knee dragged painfully against the ground as you crawled to the bars. When you made it, your breathing was ragged, and your face was coated with a thin layer of sweat. It was a struggle to focus on one of the bowls of broth as each throb of your head rattled your vision; you nearly knocked a bowl over but caught it with trembling, clumsy fingers.

What the fuck are they giving me? How have I been weakened so quickly?

You propped yourself up on one arm and used the other to lift a bowl to your lips. The broth felt like acid on your dry mouth, but you forced it down. It tasted like nothing, and you wondered if you would've been better off taking your chances with not eating it.

No. Eat.

You finished the bowl of broth and reached for the second. Already, some moisture had returned to your mouth. Your mind was less muddled, the fog in your brain cleared by the sensation of something other than the toxin passing your lips. Before you could start sipping the second bowl, you heard boots scraping down the hallway.

Your head snapped up, and you grabbed the two bowls, stacking them and then scrambling backward using your legs and free hand until your back hit the wall. Keep nothing behind me and my eyes ahead. The skin of your fingers whitened as your grip on the bowls grew tighter, and you waited for your visitor to arrive.

For a moment, you couldn't see who it was. A gas lamp shone brightly outside the bars, and you turned your head. Spots twirled in your vision, and you blinked them away. When you opened your eyes, you immediately wished you hadn't. Your second wish was that you had a gun. Your third was that the man before you hadn't been born in the first place.

Pekka Rollins stood outside your cell in a perfectly tailored suit, untouched by blood or dirt. In your state, covered in dirty and torn clothing, you could have felt like nothing more than a bug beneath his glare.

That was what he wanted, and you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing you crumble.

Instead, you lifted your chin and the full bowl of broth. Feigning bringing it to your lips, you kept your eyes defiantly on him as you took one slow sip. Pekka Rollins just watched with a note of amusement in his eyes. He was too happy to see you before him like this.

His smugness was the match needed to light your anger, and you were all too happy to be ignited.

You launched the bowl across the cell and watched as watered-down broth soaked the front of his suit and slivers of porcelain sprayed into the hallway and onto the floor of your cell.

You only hoped you would get the chance to do worse.

TAGLIST: @tonberry-yoda, @b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r, @futurecorps3, @statsvitenskap, @sapphiccloud, @casualladyinternet, @d34drapunzel, @noctemys, @whitejxsmine, @so6, @franzelt, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @marlene-the-witch, @thestudiouswanderer, @lyjen, @rideacowb0y, @weasleybuns, @dal-light, @mariatpwk, @dreammgc, @elysian-chaos, @breadbrobin, @poppyflower-22, @halfofagayallofaqueer, @battleraven, @amarokofficial, @tenaciousperfectionunknown, @poppyflower-22

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queenvhagar · 8 months ago

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At Driftmark, Jacaerys and Lucerys attack Aemond with a knife not out of a need for self-defense, like many will argue. Instead, Jacaerys draws the blade and Lucerys uses it to slash Aemond's eye out because of their desire for retribution for what Aemond said about them and their real father during the fight. It was wanting to hurt Aemond, not an immediate need to survive, that led to the blade being drawn and used on Aemond's face and eye specifically.

After claiming the world's largest living dragon, following years of being mocked for not being a dragonrider and continually risking his life to get a dragon, Aemond comes back to the castle pretty confident in himself. Before he gets to his room, a group of other four children, including two boys who made fun of him in the past, stop him. The girls physically attack him first, for having claimed Vhagar and for his confident, unbothered response to their words. After defending himself from these initial attacks, the boys join in. Even though he's a couple of years older than the other children, he is overcome by four people attacking him at once. At one point, he is pushed to the ground and relentlessly kicked and punched by all four children at once. Eventually managing to push the attackers back, Aemond finds and raises a rock, posturing that he will use it to defend against further attacks, and to hurt the boys back he mocks the boys for their true parentage and the recent death of their actual father, saying they would one day "die screaming in flames" like their father did (an objectively terrible thing to say, to be sure). However, once he realizes Lucerys doesn't know his true parentage, Aemond lowers the rock that he has held high.

It is at this point - rock lowered, bastard named - that Jacaerys pulls the blade that he brought with him. Despite Aemond lowering the rock and backing off, Jacaerys is angry, and he wants to hurt Aemond for what he said. In response to the drawn blade, Aemond knocks Lucerys back with his left hand and uses then uses the rock in his right hand to incapacitate Jacaerys and stop him from using the knife against him.

But Aemond is not dumb - in fact, in his first two episodes he has demonstrated that he has the most awareness of all the kids. Aemond shows that he understands the political advantage of Targaryens marrying sibling to sibling, the duty a prince has to serve the realm, and the importance of being a dragonrider as a Targaryen. He understood the potentially deadly, yet infinitely rewarding if successful, opportunity presented to him when he heard Vhagar, the dragon his grandfather claimed, calling out from the beach and nobody was there to stop him from going to her. Aemond has also doubtlessly heard his mother talk about their family's precarious political position, and he's observed the favoritism his father the king shows to his eldest daughter, the named heir to the throne. Aemond understands that there would be severe consequences for him (and potentially his family) if any serious harm were to come to any of Rhaenyra's own, so while he fights to incapacitate his attackers in the fight, Aemond knows that he cannot use the rock or any other weapon to seriously harm or disable Rhaenyra's sons even if he wanted to. So he uses the rock to knock down his armed assailant after a blade is drawn against him, and then he raises it a final time in question. Are they going to come at him again? If he were fighting to truly hurt, disfigure, or kill the boys out of anger or contempt at their parentage, Aemond could have pressed the attack immediately and used the rock against the boys. But at this point Aemond is only still fighting because the attacks keep coming at him. Instead, he stays where he is and raises the rock as a warning: come at me again and I will use this to fend you off. Having just become Vhagar's new rider, he already feels that he has won against the other children. He is unbeatable - there is no need for him to viciously attack the children while they're down to show that he has won the fight against them. He is older, he has a dragon, and he has withstood all of their attacks. At this moment, Aemond is waiting for their next move, whatever it may be.

If Rhaenyra's sons had yielded and stopped coming at Aemond at this point or any point before it, the fight would be done. Now, rock lowered, Aemond standing still, there is no immediate need for self-defense. Any further attack against Aemond could not be considered the boys defending themselves. But Jacaerys and Lucerys don't feel the need to defend their lives against a perceived imminent mortal threat. At this moment, they want to get back at Aemond. For claiming Vhagar. For hitting the girls back when they first came at him. For the blows Aemond landed back against them. And above all, for naming them as illegitimate and mocking their true father's death. They want to win this fight, and they want Aemond to hurt for what he said and did. That's the real reason Jacaerys draws the blade, and that's the real reason they do what they do next.

So it is then that the boys resume their attack, with Jacaerys throwing the sand at Aemond's eyes to disorient him and Lucerys grabbing the knife and slashing Aemond right across his eye. Not in the leg or the arm, which might have prevented him from fighting back again and ostensibly saved them from Aemond using a rock against them. No, Lucerys grabs the knife and slices up and across the entire side of Aemond's face, cutting his eye in the process. The goal of this attack is to maim and injure Aemond, not to save themselves from further harm by him.

And what is the fallout from this event? Aemond sees just how much danger his family is in when it comes to his father's preference for his eldest daughter and his eldest sister's willingness to defend her own at all costs. He sees his eldest sister, the heir to the throne, offer for him to be tortured so he would incriminate his own mother and have her punished for talking in private about the crimes that his elder sister has done and is doing. He sees his father the king turn on him and rage against Aemond, his mother, and his brother in front of the entire court about something everyone knows to be true but will not speak out loud. He sees that not only are his sister and her sons not the least bit regretful or apologetic for the serious harm and disability their own family member faces because of their actions, even years later, but also that absolutely no consequences will be felt by his attackers ever for their role in the confrontation because the truth of his eldest sister's crimes was mentioned by Aemond during the fight and that, in their eyes, justifies her sons deciding to use a knife to disfigure him in retribution. Because the king will support his eldest sister and her sons above all else, they can do whatever they want and get away with it, no matter who gets hurt in the process, because the king is weak and will not hold his daughter to any accountability for anything she or her children decide to do.

It's of course this pivotal moment all of the Greens but especially Aemond realize that his and his family's ultimate survival in the impending succession crisis is at the hands of people who could not care less about their well-being and safety. Little wonder that Aemond from this point trained to be the ultimate fighter. Who else would defend him and his family from something like this - or worse - that could happen in the future?

#aemond targaryen #team green #pro team green #anti team black #anti rhaenyra targaryen

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l-in-the-light · 3 months ago

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The most embarrassing series of posts about Lawlu you will ever read: edition Dressrosa (part 9)

The last Lawlu randezvous in Dressrosa, country of love, let's go!

Law did it! And Luffy is just standing there and watching. Kinda reflects their Amazon Lily dynamics, doesn't it? Back then it was Luffy making ruckus and Law just sitting there quietly and waiting for him to calm down. Wait, why do I call it a ruckus? It's a big moment for Law, it's his revenge! Well, I actually don't believe Doflamingo and I'm on Law's side here: he called it "wanting to fullfill Cora-san's wish", not taking revenge. Whatever this here was, was a mix of a rampage and desperation. Luffy's witnessing Law on his lowest. To be fair, Law deserved to give Doflamingo a payback. He freaking severed his arm.

I feel like Luffy just understands. Their support for each other so far was always rather quiet and from a distance, after all.

Luffy is saving Law again. It's second time already (or third even, since he stops Mingo twice here!). Law's spirit meanwhile just broke into tiny pieces, he has "nothing left in him" anymore, not even his unyielding will from mere moments ago. It even takes him a moment to realize Luffy stepped up to protect him here and it kinda shocks him (it really shouldn't by this point but oh well). This all feels extremely emotional and personal.

Also correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't it the Very First Time Luffy uses conqueror's haki like this? Like yeah, he can knock people unconscious but nothing else at this point. To even "coat" himself or "punch" someone with conqueror's he had to learn how to use Ryuo in Wano. But here? Here he does something special with his conqueror's that we never saw him do before that. And of course he was able to do it because he wanted to protect Law. Must be unconscious thing, just like I suspect he had a tiny moment of future sight in this arc. Both times for Law heh.

Getting out of the way so Luffy can go all out (anime suggests both him and Trebol got swept away by the gust, but for me it always looked like Law just rolled himself away). Just moment ago Law didn't even have the tiniest will in him, but now he has it again thanks to Luffy. Must have been a confusing feeling, perhaps despair mixed with gratitude, but bottom line is: it pushed him to keep going on.

Also Law already suspected Luffy has conqueror's haki despite never seeing him use it before. He says "yappari" here which translates to "as expected". He's very doting for Luffy, isn't he.

Time for reflection. Do you all remember Wano? Everyone called Kaido and Big Mom monsters who can't die. Everyone except Monkey D. Luffy. He said they're humans and if they're humans they can be beaten down and defeated. Here, we have Trebol's narration going on presenting to us Doflamingo as a literal demon. You really think Luffy buys this here and thinks Mingo is a demon or a monster? If he didn't think this way about emperors, there's no way he would think that about Mingo. But he doesn't deny because he thinks this matters a lot to Law and he's on Law's side here. But I guarantee you Luffy thinks this is bullshit and Mingo is just a human, as in: he wouldn't villainize him, he wouldn't deny him his humanity either. That's just not a Luffy thing to do.

Which leads us to this conclusion: Luffy is acting differently because he still is doing everything here for Law. Law called Mingo a devil just moments ago, Luffy is not gonna say anything to contradict that, no matter what he personally thinks on the matter. Luffy will always be on Law's side.

"Torao can't even move an inch!" Luffy's very protective and worried, tries to make Mingo focus on him instead, but all he can do is talk because Trebol caught him. Law meanwhile is indeed in a very bad spot.

Law: I will lose my face if I leave both of you to Mugiwara-ya. There's no way Trafalgar Law is gonna listen to Luffy saying "Torao can't move an inch and defend himself" (and not just once but twice!), he just had to prove him wrong, right? Petty bastard. Still, it was thanks to Luffy that fire and will to fight even ignited inside of him again here.

Luffy tries to free himself from Trebol and Law says a curious line (that guy's an empty marionette is how this line was translated in my native language), which is a hint for Luffy about Trebol's trick. Luffy doesn't get it though and realizes it only after Law takes care of Trebol himself (seems he doesn't even hold it against Luffy that he couldn't figure it out). Turns out Law doesn't even have to move an inch. All he needs is a finger.

Luffy is just so impressed beyond belief. Law managed to defeat an enemy while not even being able to get up. No wonder Luffy is always in awe about Law.

Sadly he couldn't make Trebol fall unconscious so the latter did his last deed to try to explode Law. Luffy reacted fast to rescue him (we can see him escaping the explosion just in time, Mingo as well). His concerned face when he looks at passed out Law hits right in the feels. He even remembered to grab Kikoku and Law's severed arm!

Also when did Law became "Lawland", because that's so hilarious to me for some reason. He didn't even meet the tontattas. Must be the result of some of Usopp's tales, I guess? Though it's noteworthy that Law was super close to meeting tontattas on Green Bit, I wonder how the plot would have developed if he did end up talking to them back then.

Curious wording from Luffy here. "Torao did his part to put pressure on Mingo". Not "he fought well", not "I will finish what he started". It's almost like Luffy is aware that Law was only there to stall Mingo, to buy time for Luffy to fight him. Hmmm. Also bonus miraculous intuition from Luffy here: telling Cavendish he counts on him. Because that will lead directly to Cavendish making sure Torao doesn't do anything stupid and will end up protecting him for a while. It's kinda thanks to Luffy again.

Standing in-between Mingo and Law again, with his body, words and resolution.

Here we go again, Luffy's motivation for this final stage of the fight. He's not gonna let Law's efforts go to waste. But he still doesn't admit that he does it only for Law, he claims "Mingo's cage is in his way". It's not entirely true.

And again, Luffy's withholding himself from stating his true reason of why he wants to beat up Mingo. "You made my friends cry, my crewmates mad! And you won't go down!" And yet none of those include Law who didn't cry or wasn't mad (he did have a rampage moment tho). Luffy's still holding himself back, because before he can do what he wants to do the most, he needs to "take it all on himself" and do stuff for Law first.

Law's biggest love confession. I mean, this is the moment when I finally thought "Damn, I was so wrong about Trafalgar Law, he cares so much it's overwhelming". We had him super cold all the time, and suddenly this emotional bomb drops. It hit me like a truck. I never doubted Law's caring heart from this moment ever again.

One important thing to note here. I think Law got inspired here by what Robin said earlier when defending Luffy, she said it's worth dying for Luffy's sake and that Luffy is always their trump card. This is Law's version of it. But he can't bring himself to say "die for him", probably for many reasons, but the most important one I believe to be this: both Law and Luffy had someone dear to them sacrifice their life so they can live. Law knows how's it's like to be the one left behind and he knows Luffy knows that feeling as well. He wouldn't want to force Luffy to go through that again, especially not now that he knows Luffy does think of him as his friend (he had his shocking realization about that when Luffy ran to rescue him from the Heart Throne). That's why "we either live or die together" is the only option he can give here. It's because they both understand the pain.

Law's words "I dragged him into this" hold a lot of weight as well. He was in that situation before, he believed Cora-san got beaten up by Vergo because of Law. He would do anything to avoid a similar situation happening ever again, and yet here he is, having to face it again. No wonder his reaction is so big and emotional that he even says to Cavendish "he's counting on him" to respect his choice. (thankfully Cavendish acted like a chad who said "no suicides on my watch" and stayed with him instead).

There's again an Ace parallel going on here. At Marineford Ace told Luffy to go away and mind his own business because he couldn't bear "dragging Luffy down with himself". Both Law and Ace had to face this situation turning out to be true. This time around, Law made sure to take the most consequences on himself to the very end, didn't he? I swear it feels almost like Ace is watching over those two.

Again, everyone's reactions to G4: "is that really Luffy??" "what is that bouncing ball??" "I heard he's a 25 feet tall monster!!"

Law's reaction to G4: "Oh great, he still had an ace up his sleeve (casual compliment). But he's using too much haki"

He can't just be impressed without also noticing *immediately* the biggest weakness of G4, right? Of course it's out of concern, but still, Law, come on... He's also one of the few if not The Only Person not weirded out (though my bet is Sabo also wouldn't be fazed heh).

Still, it shows how much attention Law pays to Luffy and his fights. He would know of so many ways to help him improve his techniques, wouldn't he? He just cares so much and I wish he just allowed himself to, you know, live a little, and do the things he probably yearns to do, like the thing I just mentioned: help him improve. Enough of keeping the artificial distance all the time!

They both notice the most important thing at the same time: birdcage is still up, the fight isn't over. Same mind, two bodies.

Luffy lost his G4 and people around him just run away, quite a sad sight. He's practically the only hope for them to survive but they instead ditch him in fear. Meanwhile Law is making another important decision, the fire to fight slowly burning back again. He's still not done with his "fight" in Dressrosa.

This happens in chapter titled "My Fight". But Law's not fighting anymore. Yeah, not against Doflamingo. But there's still one more fight he can't afford to lose. It's the fight to not let Luffy die. That's why he shambled himself all the way here, risking losing his arm for good (it's excessively bleeding again because of all the strain he put on himself just now!). Law saved a life back at Marineford, he's not gonna just lie down there and watch that life vanish again.

It's exactly because of this moment that I believe Law's always fighting to save lives ever since he lost Flevance and Cora-san. That's why him ready to give up on kids in Punk Hazard or on people of Dressrosa is huge, he was basically giving away something that mattered the most for him, just to keep Luffy safe. That's how much Luffy matters to him, which is More Than Anything Else, apparently.

Guarding him as Luffy is recovering. He positioned himself between Luffy and Mingo's position on the street below, he's literally protecting him with his body, just the same way Luffy did before when he dragged cuffed Law all over Dressrosa. They don't even have to communicate, one look, "go!" (said already after shambling him, mind you) and Luffy's back in the game. But Law still didn't finish doing his part, he's still keeping guard, shambling Rebecca and Viola out of the way and risking Mingo finding out his hiding spot. Doflamingo is still taunting him "watch me kill all your hope again by getting rid of Luffy".

Finally Luffy tells Mingo what he wanted to do for the whole arc. "You're suffocating me with your attempts at controlling everything and everyone!". Luffy's no longer fighting for Law, now he's finally doing it for himself (and he even has Law's support in this!). And he expressed it only before his very final punch. All the other ones? Those were all for Law.

It doesn't mean he didn't care about his crewmates wishes or Rebecca, but those flew all out of the window the moment Luffy almost believed for a moment Law is dead. Perhaps seeing Law there coming to his rescue really calmed down Luffy so he could actually think of something else. Dressrosa is indeed a country of passion and this fight was also full of it. Emotions constantly got in the way.

Law's still keeping guard, almost like he knows Luffy won't be able to get down from there on his own. The moment he notices him lose G4 he's ready to save him, despite the fact he's wheezing and his lungs are probably collapsing on him.

He saved Luffy, but look at what cost. Law himself is looking like not only his lungs but his heart are giving up on him there. Few moments later we can barely see him in the background, but he's lying there, most likely passed out just like Luffy. Also that extra huge room he did there to save Luffy from all the way up in the sky. How big was it? Was it as big as the one he did before to trick Mingo in the palace? Or even bigger? It was said it cut down on his lifespan significantly, but seems Law didn't cut down on his lifespan just once, but twice, and in Dressrosa alone. Again just to save Luffy's life.

Resting finally. They both freaking sleep in the same way with opened mouth. Law's also extremely injured and in bad shape, but it's Usopp together on the bed with Luffy, not Law. Maybe because of his touch trauma. But also maybe Law just didn't think he should be on that bed; we know that in Zou he will tell his crew that Mingo was defeated by Luffy, not giving any credit to himself. It might be the same here.

I wonder who patched them up. The only doctor around was Law himself...

I know this isn't Luffy-Law, this is Sabo-Luffy. but did any of you notice what Sabo is thanking Luffy for? "Staying alive" and "not leaving him alone for good". But that wasn't Luffy's achievement. That was actually literally thanks to Law, who dragged Luffy's dying unconscious body inside his submarine and operated on him for probably like hours, and then monitored his situation for a while. And the first thing Luffy did after waking up, having his life miraculously saved, was go on a self-punishing rampage. No, that feat Sabo is talking about, isn't thanks to Luffy.

Luffy could meet Sabo again, who told him not to blame himself. And I'm sure Luffy is aware how much of that is thanks to Law, he was the one who kept him alive, fullfilling Ace's wish.

Luffy stuffing himself silly and doing some stupid shanenigans. Law is just sitting a bit away from the table, but has a good view on him. I wonder what is he thinking about right now when witnessing Luffy acting all silly, heh. He for sure doesn't turn his eyes away even for a moment.

Also he's staying right next to the door, almost like he's guarding them all from danger, because he would be the first one to react and the closest to potential enemy arriving!

Both making the same decision: escape be damned, they have important business! And then they will make others wait for them heh. They're both as insufferable lol.

Rebecca "thank you!" Luffy "Shup up! I don't want to hear that!"

Yeah, I wonder why. Usually Luffy has no problem with hearing people thank him. Or at least wouldn't mind it, even if he doesn't care much about it. But telling Rebecca to shut up and not even letting her finish saying the thanks? I wonder why. Oh, maybe because he did not do it for Rebecca. He didn't beat up Mingo or save Dressrosa for her. Actually, he did it for someone else.

Meanwhile now making sure Rebecca's actual wish is fullfilled (staying with her father) is Luffy ultimately repaying his debt. And after she thanks him for it he just says "no problem". Completely different reaction all of sudden :)

Unexpected parallel that I will be surprised if any of you ever noticed. Remember how Luffy felt bad fighting against Fujitora because Fujitora can't see so he was shouting his moves outloud before making them? Yeah, turns out Law pulled off a Luffy long before Luffy himself did that. He called out to Fujitora that he's about to escape, lol.

And so we won't think it's just a coincidence, Law earlier confirmed to us that Fujitora's lack of eyesight/handicap was weighing actually on his mind heh. Law is smarter about that, but it's adorable they both acted basically in same way.

Let's talk about the grand fleet for a second. They all magically got along and decided to form a grand fleet dedicated to Strawhats. Their explanation for it is super vague, it's basically "so we stayed at the palace all together when recovering for two days and we got along". Like I bet you *anything* that's probably not what happened and there ain't no way they just blabbled together happily and conveniently arrived at this conclusion by themselves. We saw how they were, competing with each other and Luffy on who will beat Mingo. If they had the grand fleet idea it's only because someone planted it in their heads. Bartolomeo? If it was him he would brag about it. Cavendish? I highly doubt it since he's a narcisstic ego-maniac. Don Chinjao? Maybe, but last time he tried to voice his wish to give Luffy his fleet, he couldn't even said it outloud, too full of emotions. So my bet's here also on "no".

So here's my crazy take, run with it or leave it:

It was Law's initiative. He saw all those people feeling indebted to Luffy (he was forced to tag along, dragged all over Dressrosa after all). The only reason they ever did anything together was because of the said debt to Luffy and the heat of a crisis, but that never prevented them from fighting over it, even with Luffy himself. But if he approached them, for example through Bartolomeo (who constantly visited Kyros's hut where Strawhats and Law were hiding) and told him there is a way that they all can repay their debt and also that would fullfill Bartolomeo's own deepest wish (to be Luffy's subordinate), then now we're talking.

But why would Law do that? Because he also is grateful to Luffy, duh. He wanted to repay the favour and make up for dragging Luffy into his personal matters. Also do you remember what Cavendish told Law? "What you did here in Dressrosa is huge. Taking care of Doflamingo will put you two in the eye of the storm". Later Fujitora also says something similar: "Your life will be in peril from the Yonko now that you've eliminated Joker. Your future is hell!" which is exactly what was the main subject of Law's quarrel with Luffy in this arc: bringing Kaido's wrath on them. Obviously it was all still on Law's mind. And the consequences will go way beyond just Kaido. Ensuring that Luffy has a grand fleet (always ready to help) is the first step of Law's plan of keeping Luffy away from the said consequences. Law will be in the eye of the storm for sure, but he is already taking measures to make sure Luffy is not, pushing him away from the centre, giving him extra power and protection.

But if that's the case why didn't Oda just tells us, the readers, that this is the case? Well, it wouldn't be the first or last time Oda hides things from us. And I hope it will all have a payoff in the final arc!

Law's surprised and maybe even slightly disgusted impression here is so hilarious. He clearly expected Luffy to be thrilled, but surprise surprise, Luffy doesn't want subordinates. What Luffy wants is freedom. I'm sure Law will remember that from now on.

Law actually takes part in this feast. This is the first and the only feast so far he was part of (he didn't celebrate with others in Punk Hazard, Zou nor Wano. Wano's especially strange because it was the success of their alliance and yet Law decided not to celebrate, but he does here, hm. Dressrosa is so different somehow. Is it the passion?!). He's smiling and I bet you anything his eyes dart to Strawhat Luffy here.

And with that we mark the end of Dressrosa. Zou's next (as well as the trip to it), but we might take a fast post stop elsewhere before or after that :D still contemplating to include Wano's anime once we do reach Wano's arc in this series!

#one piece #trafalgar law #luffy #lawlu #lulaw #luffy x law #love is a hurricane #I agree Luffy and Law were basically equals in this battle #but it's also true Luffy didn't mind acting as backup and support for Law #Luffy doesn't mind anything as long as it's for Law and I hope Law will also understand this one day #Law was definitely buying time here for Luffy. those who read Law's novel know why Law was losing against Mingo #one piece meta

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rosewaterandivy · 1 year ago

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i. incandescent glow

summary: have you ever been so alone you spend the day confusing a man in a coma?

pairing: assumed e.m x reader, eventual s.h x reader

warnings: my blog is 18+ MDNI; mutual pining, yearning, miscommunication, poorly-wired idiot signals, vague nineties vibes, asshole-ish rockstar eddie, best friend & store manager steve, drug abuse, comas and hospitals, found family, hop and wayne knocking sense into people, eventual smut, schmaltzy rom-com goodness, mention of thanksgiving, christmas, and new year's holidays

w.c.: 8.2k

a/n: when I say that writing this kicked my ass, I'm tellin' you I had a rough time. @bettyfrommars this flannel-wearing Steve is for you especially! Please enjoy & I hope y'all like it 🥹

series m.list | playlist | currently spinning:

Steve hadn’t planned for his life to amount to this, he’d simply blinked and found himself in a new decade, still rewinding tapes at Family Video. Granted, he’s district manager now and has several stores in the area he’s responsible for.

Meanwhile, Eddie got the hell outta dodge and Corroded Coffin actually made something of themselves. Two albums under their belt and a forth-coming world tour after the holidays, and, more recently, a cover on the Rolling Stone. Ed had called him up once it was all finalized, “Can you fuckin’ believe it man?!”

And, Steve loves Eddie, so he could actually believe it. He tries and fails to keep his jealousy at bay, Ed is one of his best friends for christ sakes. Steve is happy for him, he really is, despite the revolving doors at rehab centers dotting the west coast, late night calls from strangers because Munson passed out in someone’s bathroom again.

He is, after all, Eddie’s emergency contact. Gareth approached him after the second stint at rehab and suggested it, thought it would be the best all things considered. Steve readily agreed and signed the forms, kept his pager on him, and dutifully smoothed things over when Eddie’s benders got a bit too much.

So, he’s rewinding tapes when his pager goes off. He glances at the number and drags the phone across the counter. Nestling the handset between his shoulder and cheek, he punches in the numbers and shoves the tape in a plastic case to be shelved later.

“Hello, this is Hawkins Memorial Hospital. How may I direct your call?” a kind, if perfunctory voice recites. He can hear the hustle and bustle of the hospital waiting room, muted conversations and the ringing of phones.

“Hi, this is Steve Harrington. I received a page from this number regarding Eddie Munson.” Steve eyes the clock, he’s on closing shift by himself already having sent he employees home to celebrate with their families.

“Yes, one moment please.” The receptionist places him on hold, allowing Steve to rewind a couple more tapes and sort them for shelving. “Mr. Harrington?” the line roars back to life, no longer the receptionist, but the doctor in charge of Eddie’s care instead. “Mr. Munson came into the hospital unresponsive but breathing, he was revived by a…” He rattles off a name that Steve has never heard before. “His, fiancée, as I understand it.”

Steve feels the floor sway under his feet.

Eddie.

With a fiancée?

“She’s here now and in a bit of shock, as you can expect. Since you’re his emergency contact, we wanted to alert you of his current state as well as get any contact information for family and friends that need to be made aware.”

“Oh, uh, sure.”

The doctor continues to relay that they’ve elected to place Eddie under a medically induced coma for the time being, to allow his body to flush the drugs from his system before assessing for any further damage.

Steve is transferred to a medical assistant who takes down Wayne and Hopper’s information. He figures between the two men the job will get done, but let’s be real, it’ll be Joyce that activates the phone tree and calls the kids, and he plans to swing by the hospital later that evening once he’s closed up.

Grabbing the stack of tapes and begins to shelve them with a shake of his head. It would be just like Eddie to get engaged and not be fucked to tell anyone. Returning to the counter, he fiddles with the cuffs of his flannel shirt— Robin got it for him the last time she swung through town, insisted that Steve’s wardrobe needed some serious upgrading and all but thrust it upon him.

“It brings out your eyes,” She said, leaning against the wall outside the dressing room. Her worn boots kicked against one another, half of her reflected in the mirror while Steve assessed.

“It’s brown.”

“And gold!” She turns him around to press down the collar and pop the first two buttons of the shirt open. “It’s color theory man, just trust me on this, okay?”

Which is how Steve found himself the new owner of several flannel shirts of varying hues. And boots. When he complained it was all too lumberjack-like, Robin shushed him and continued to flirt with the cute check-out girl.

But that had been months ago. It was coming on Thanksgiving now and his two best friends had been too busy traveling or showing art pieces to even call. He doesn’t mind, not really— well, he tries not to. Steve gets it, people are busy, things to do and people to see.

The remainder of his shift goes by slowly. Kids home from school, families coming in by the dozen. Steve manages to complete a few menial tasks in between customers, throws on Planes, Trains and Automobiles just to have something on in the background.

He’s helping a regular when his pager beeps again, this time flashing Robin’s number. The door dings as they leave and Steve’s already wedged the phone to balance against his shoulder once more as he leans and elbow on the counter.

“Eddie has a fiancée?!” is the thing she screeches down the line. “When the fuck did that happen? Harrington, you’re supposed to keep me aware of these things!”

He signs and scrubs a hand down his face, “I’m his emergency contact, not his guardian.”

“Have you met her? What’s she like?”

“I don’t—”

“I got the first flight out of the city. Which means I had to go to LaGuardia blech,” She makes a gagging sound down the line. “Jonathan’s picking me up now from Indy. Oh my god, is she pretty?” Robin pings between her travel plans and hypothesizing about Eddie’s girl, “I bet she’s a total knock-out, knowing him. How did they meet? D’ya think she’d pose for me?”

“Slow down there, killer.” Steve laughs, “Might want to meet the girl first before propositioning her.”

She huffs a laugh, “You’re right, of course. She’d probably think I’m insane or something. What would I do without you Stevie?”

“Probably scare off more chicks than you already do.”

“Oh, go fuck yourself Harrington.” Robin’s laugh is loud and warm, soothing something in his gut. “I’ll see you tonight, dingus.”

“Sure, stay safe. Call me later, bye.” He places the phone back in its cradle and has half a mind to check the room behind the curtain, just in case some teenagers slipped past without him noticing, but then the phone rings.

“Thank you for calling Family Video, this is Steve. How may I help you?”

“Uh, hi.” A voice says down the line, small and tight. You introduce yourself, quickly followed by, “I’m at the hospital, with, uh Eddie?”

“Oh! Hi, how’s he doing?”

“Good, still in the coma.”

Steve can hear some voices filtering through the mic, loud and familiar.

“So, Hop and Wayne made it? That’s good.”

“Yeah, yeah, Joyce too. The kids are here too, I guess? It’s all a bit overwhelming.”

He huffs a laugh, “Yeah, I can only imagine.” He occupies himself with the slinky on the counter, much preferring to hear your voice than deal with the families that just walked in, ten minutes to close. “You holding up okay?”

An intake of breath, “Mmhm.”

It’s a feeling he knows well.

You’re overwhelmed by all these people you’d never met, on top of the fact that your fiancee is in a coma. Steve feels like shit, having you handle all of that by yourself. If he hadn’t stupidly sent the mid-shift employees home early, he would have been there to help you navigate it all.

“Joyce wants to know if you’re coming by after work. If we should wait for you,” You say after a beat or two of silence, “Or if you’ll just meet us at the house for Thanksgiving tomorrow?”

Steve rolls his neck in an effort to relieve the built-up tension there, bones popping, he rubs a hand at the nape of his neck. “Could you put her on real quick?”

He listens as the phone changes hands and Joyce’s comforting voice intones, “Steve?”

“She’s freaking out.”

“What?”

He sighs, “The fiancée, she sounds like she’s in a bad way.” He checks out the straggling customers, “Don’t wait on my account. I’ll see Ed after I’m done here.”

“Okay, Steve.”

“Does she have a place to stay? I know Rob is crashing with you and Hop—”

Joyce laughs, “We’ll have a full house I suppose. I can put Jonathan on the couch or something, don’t worry about it Steve.”

“Right. Okay.” He gives the final customer a smile and wave as they wish him a happy holiday. “I’ll see you later.”

Hanging up the phone, Steve walks to the door to turn the lock and flip the sign to ‘closed.’ He lingers against the door, resting his forearms against the bar, watching as the snow falls against the dark sky. Wonders how it is that just from the sound of your voice, he felt himself falling not unlike snowflakes outside.

Earlier that day

Turns out, landing the Corroded Coffin interview was not the boon to your career you thought it would be.

Maybe you��d set yourself up for failure. And it didn’t help that you had one big, fat embarrassing crush on a member of the band. Generally, being a fan of the artist coupled with the tendency to romanticize things in your mind only led to disaster.

Or, in your case, attempting to revive the frontman of the aforementioned band on the bathroom floor.

Eddie Munson was unresponsive at your feet, a panoply of pills and baggies scattered across the floor. Having no time to think, you launch into action— checked for breathing and finding none began CPR followed by chest compressions, all while yelling for help.

Gareth is the one to find you, compressing Eddie’s chest with your two hands in between administering two breaths after every 30 counts.

“Call an ambulance!”

You can’t even bring yourself to feel sorry about your tone, harried and frantic, as he stumbles out to call 911. Thankfully, the paramedics are quick. One paramedic asks, “You’re his fiancée?”

Dumbly, you nod, too in shock to register what’s been said. Someone guides you down the steps and into the front of the ambulance strapping you in with a seatbelt. He can’t just die, you reason, not when Corroded is just taking off— a world tour in the new year and a cover story with Rolling Stone.

Your editor would have your head if something were to go wrong. Munson was notoriously picky with interviews and reporters, it was a miracle they’d approved you for the job. Rumor has it that he’d have much preferred Nancy Wheeler, but the board wasn’t keen to bring in a free-lance reporter for the job.

Somehow, this would be your fault.

Arriving at the hospital isn’t any better. Gareth and the other band members stayed behind to call management and see what was to be done about Eddie, and made you promise to call them once you’d arrived at Hawkins Memorial.

Nevermind that you’re alone in a town you’d never stepped foot in before today. And all at Eddie Munson’s behest.

They rushed him off past the swinging double-doors, out of your reach. Stepping to the front desk, you ask the receptionist where the nearest pay-phone is, and she offers you one of the hospital phones instead.

Dialing the number hastily scribbled onto your hand, your fingers brush along the plastic keys listening for the trill of the ring down the line.

“Hi, Gareth? We made it to the hospital, they took him back with a team of doctors and nurses.”

“You didn’t go back with him?”

“It’s family only, I think?” You scratch the back of your neck nervously. “It’s not a big deal, I can stay in the lobby until you get here.”

“Yeah, that’s gonna be a while…”

He goes on to explain that their team has to meet and discuss next steps. The band can’t leave until they’ve done so and their manager asked them to stay put.

“That’s shitty.”

He hums his agreement.

“And I’m just supposed to stay here by myself? I don’t—”

“That’d be great, that is, if you don’t mind,” Gareth interrupts. “They’ll call his emergency contact soon enough. But we’d really appreciate having someone we know there until then.”

“Oh, okay.”

He thanks you for being so cool with all of this and says his goodbyes. With a short smile, you hand the phone back to the receptionist. Heaving a sigh, you drop your head into your hands and lament, “I was gonna marry him.”

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie’s attending nurse overhears you and recalls how the paramedic who brought him in said something about a fiancee. Turning toward you, she places a delicate hand on your back. You jump with a start and look up.

“You’re the fiancée, right?”

“Wh–”

“It’s okay honey, he’s doing fine. I’ll take you back there now.”

Allowing yourself to be guided by the kind nurse as she prattles on about something or other, you wonder how to get yourself out of this. No one was going to buy that Eddie Munson has a secret fiancee. If he was awake, he’d probably laugh you out of the room himself.

But, as it was, they’d placed him in a medically induced coma to let the drugs work their way out of his system. A small miracle, that. The doctor briefs you on his status, all of which flies directly out of your brain, too focused on how small he looks in the bed. Tubes dripping fluids and machines whirring or beeping every so often. Tattoos a stark contrast to the pallor of his skin, a sharp relief against a marble canvas.

A medical assistant approaches you and asks about an emergency contact or the contact information of family and friends.

“I don’t–”

The dazed look in your eye must give something away because the assistant attempts to pat your back comfortingly before saying they’ll check his personal effects.

The nurse, impossibly kind, rests a hand on your shoulder, “Let him hear your voice, honey.”

Her shoes squeak along the tile floor as she leaves. There’s a brief reprieve where you’re left alone with Eddie in the hospital room. The nurse and medical assistant flit in and out occasionally, making notes in his chart here and there. But you’re transfixed by the man in front of you— beautiful and impossibly out of reach. He was even before the interview, you rationalize, but now he’s even more so. It’s bittersweet, almost, makes you want to reach out and hold the hand at his side, silver rings glinting in the fluorescent lights.

“Hi,” You greet. “I bet you’re wondering what I’m doing here, huh?” You take the seat closest to him. “Well, I didn’t really get a chance to introduce myself, so here it goes.” Taking a sip from the coffee the nurse left to fortify you, you recite your full name. “And I think you should know your family thinks we’re engaged. Never been engaged before, so this is all very sudden for me.” You huff a laugh and roll your eyes, “Um, what I really came here to tell you was, I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“I don’t know what to do,” You continue, a quasi-one sided conversation and therapy session all in one neat package. “I’m just a reporter for the Rolling Stone. And if you were awake, or hell, even if Gareth were here, I wouldn’t be in this mess. Oh, god not that I’m blaming you.” Your hand finds his arm briefly before you jerk back as if stung, “Shit, sorry.”

“This is not how I pictured my life going, to be honest with you. I thought when I did get engaged, I’d at least have the luxury of knowing my fiancé, or y’know them being conscious at least.” You sigh and take another sip of shitty coffee, “Don’t get me wrong, I love my life— I’ve got a great job and apartment, I get to travel and write for a living. It’s definitely not a bad gig.”

“It’s just, I never met anyone I could truly be myself with, y’know? Laugh with, and I mean ugly laugh with a snort and witch cackle. D’ya ever believe in love at first sight? No, probably not, you’re too rock and roll for that. Or have you even seen someone, and you knew that if only that person really knew you, they would…”

Thinking back to your Corroded Coffin research and tabloid perusals, you sigh. “Of course, they would dump the perfect model that they were with and realize that you were the one they wanted to grow old with.” You shake your head, realizing how ridiculous you sound, talking to a man in a coma who probably can’t even hear you. Your voice falls to a hush, “You ever fall in love with someone you’ve never even talked to? Have you ever been so alone you spend the day confusing a man in a coma?”

“No? Me neither.”

There’s the sound of shuffling of feet echoing from the hallway, followed by a relived: “Oh, there he is.”

A voice startles you from the doorway, deep and masculine, albeit out of breath. A tall, broad man steps into the room quickly followed by a shorter woman and a lankier man. The first addresses you, “You must be the fiancée, I’m Jim Hopper.” He holds out his hand in greeting.

You shake his hand, palm engulfed in his larger one.

“This is my wife, Joyce, and that there is Eddie’s uncle Wayne.”

“He’s so pale,” She laments, crossing the room to his bedside. “Oh, my god.”

You nod to each of them, dropping your hand from Hopper’s. He studies you and you feel like squirming under his gaze, he’s still in uniform but sets his hat on a nearby chair. Great, just what you needed, a police chief to sniff you out.

Grabbing your things, you ready yourself to leave. “There’s been a misunderstanding. I should—”

“Nonsense,” Joyce says from opposite of you, she brushes a few strands of hair away from Eddie’s face. “The kids’ll be here soon and they’ll want to meet you.”

Wayne claps a hand to your shoulder, warmly giving it a squeeze.

“The doctor said you found him and gave him CPR until the paramedics arrived?”

“Oh, um, yeah.”

“They say the only reason he was breathing when they brought him in was because of you.” His voice is hoarse, he coughs into his fist and clears his throat. “Thank you, for that.”

“It’s what anyone would’ve done.”

He squeezes your shoulder once more, “Not necessarily,” and moves off to sit in one of the chairs.

“The doctor should be back soon,” You say, sitting beside Wayne. “He said the vital signs and brainwaves were looking good.”

Joyce nods and shoots you a smile, making idle chit-chat while the rest of you wait for the kids to arrive. There was some concern over Wayne and his heart condition, doesn’t take to shocking news too well, as you understand it. But who are these kids, Eddie’s kids? You didn’t recall coming across any mention of a previous wife or children in your research, but there are stranger things for rockstars to get up to than having a secret family you suppose.

It’s only when Wayne nudges you with his foot that you realize Joyce has been calling your name, “Where are you staying?”

“Oh, a hotel for the night.” You say softly, “I have to get back to New York soon.”

“Well, I won’t hear of it.” Joyce says looking to Hopper, “She’ll stay with us, won’t she Jim?”

He looks back at his wife and seeing her steely resolve, he knows better than to argue with her. “Sure, you’ll spend the holiday with us.”

Damn.

“Oh, we should see if we need to wait for Steve,” Joyce notes, just as a gaggle of people walk in. “Hi kids!” She stands quickly to greet them, their names coming too fast for you to keep up. A man and woman about your age bring up the rear, Joyce hugging them in turn.

Quietly, you step out to collect yourself. After taking a few breaths, you spot the medical assistant from earlier and flag him down for the emergency contact information. He scribbles a name and several phone numbers on a scrap of paper, “I would try this one first,” He points to the middle number, “It’s the work line, I think.”

“Great, thank you!”

Entering the room again, Wayne introduces you as Eddie’s fiancee and rescuer, to whoops and hollers. The younger woman lets out a wolf-whistle and drops you a wink, causing the heat to skitter underneath your skin. Making toward the phone, you dial the number and read the name on the paper.

Steve Harrington.

“Thank you for calling Family Video, this is Steve. How may I help you?”

The rich baritone of his voice, strong and deep, brings a quiver to your knees. Stumbling your way through an introduction, you make disastrous small-talk and wave Joyce over. She takes the phone with a smile, pushing you lightly toward the assembled group where the young woman, Robin, takes you under her wing.

“Fiancée, huh?” She asks with a quirked brow, to your noncommittal shrug. “Hmm.” Her eyes sweep toward Eddie, “I think you can do better,” She jokes with a wink.

Wayne drives you from the hospital to the house, graciously stopping by a grocery store along the way because you didn’t want to show up empty-handed. You make quick work of the deserted aisles, grabbing the necessary ingredients for pumpkin and pecan pie. He helps you to load the bags in the back of the truck and softly croons along to Woody Guthrie as he drives along the icy streets.

A comfortable silence sits between you. Wayne Munson is a man of few words, which is fine by you. The less opportunity for talking yourself into a hole, the better. He comes to a stop in front of a two-storey house festooned with Christmas lights. He carries your bags from the truck into the house, promising Joyce that he’ll be back tomorrow for Thanksgiving. Joyce rolls her eyes fondly and turns back toward the kitchen, leaving the pair of you in the entryway.

You rock back on your heels uncomfortably. Before you can make your escape, Wayne’s hand falls to your shoulder again kneading gently. You glance up to find his watery eyes and quiet smile; he pulls you in for a brief hug. “Thank you sweetheart,” He sighs, followed by a sniff, “I don’t know where he’d be without you, or where we’d be for that matter.” Giving you a final squeeze, he releases you and calls out a goodbye to Hopper and Joyce, shutting the front door behind him.

“Hey kid,” Hopper says, leaning against the bannister. “Join me outside for a minute?” He shrugs into his coat and nods toward the front porch. “Lemme grab my smokes, I’ll meet you out there.”

Well, shit.

It takes everything in you to not give in and pace along the icy boards of the porch as you wait. He’s figured you out, you know he has, and now he’s going to kick you out and you’ll have to call a cab and get back to the hotel before booking it to the airport first thing tomorrow.

“I know you and Munson aren’t involved, kid.” Hopper shuts the front door with a soft click, “Heard you back at the hospital talking to him.”

Your blood goes cold and you know there’s no way you can spin yourself out of this one. “I know, I know and I’m so sorry. It just all happened so fast and Wayne has that heart thing—” Your voice is choked and tight as you try to explain.

“Hey, slow down, take a breath. This isn’t the end of the world.”

“I’ll tell them, I just—”

He shakes his head and lets out a sigh, “Let me level with you,” He brushes off the snow and ice from the top step and invites you to sit down beside him. “God knows what that boy did to earn your attention, cause I certainly can’t make heads or tails of it.” He lights up a cigarette and offers one to you, “No? Can’t say I blame you, it’s a bad habit.” He takes a long drag in thought, leaving you to stew in your guilt. “What I’m trying to say is this: whatever you did, it brought him back. Eddie’s here and breathing because of you, so, in a way, we have him back because of you.”

You stay silent, knowing that whatever Hopper just shared with you is important. The guilt doesn’t leave you, not entirely, but this gruff lawman confiding in you does lodge something loose from the knot in your chest. And when he throws his arm over your shoulders to draw you to his side, you can’t help the watery smile that makes its way across your face.

He smells like your dad, the same blend of tobacco, leather, and spice. It’s been far too long since you’ve indulged in the memory of him, so you allow yourself the weakness, just this once.

And you let Hopper lead you back inside his loud and warmly lit home where Joyce greets you with a plate for dinner and promises to help you bake the pies for tomorrow.

Steve is dead on his feet when he arrives at Hop and Joyce’s house. He’d swung by the hospital to check on Eddie and talked with the doctor and nurses. It was all pretty standard— let him dry out and then assess for further damage. His vitals were good and there didn’t appear to be a need for concern at this point. The doctor, of course, recommended a stay in rehab after being discharged from the hospital, which was already suggested by Corroded’s management team.

“You fucking idiot.”

That’s the first thing Steve says to Eddie, quickly followed by:

“When you wake up, I’m gonna kill you myself.”

He doesn’t linger, knowing he’ll be back tomorrow, and the next day until Eddie wakes up. But it’s gone midnight by the time he turns the key at Hop’s place, kicking his boots at the door to rid them of the snow and ice, before toeing them off at the door. They thunk across the hardwood as he carelessly kicks them off, shrugging out of his coat and hanging it on the hooks by the door.

“Sshh, dingus, you’re gonna wake her up!” Robin hisses as her socked feet light down the stairs.

Steve smiles, relieved to see her, before asking, “Wake up who?”

Robin rolls her eyes and gestures to your sleeping form on the sofa. Steve studies you from a few steps up, one hand resting on the wooden bannister while the other pauses mid-air as he unravels his scarf. “Eddie’s fiancée, of course.”

“So, that’s her?”

You’ve turned your back to them, and you’ve curled in ever so slightly on the sofa. One of Joyce’s many blankets covers you, but your socked feet stick out from underneath one corner— dancing penguins.

At least, that’s what Steve thinks are on your socks. But, he may need to get his eyes checked again.

“What, you haven’t met her?” Robin takes in Steve’s shocked expression, before it softens into something akin to how he goes all moon-eyed at the babes who frequented Scoops Ahoy or Family Video when they were teens as his eyes fall to you once more. “She’s great, you’ll love her. Now c’mon, let’s get you some food.”

“Cereal?”

She snorts at that, “Not my cereal. You took the toy surprise last time!”

Safely ensconced in the kitchen, Robin and Steve catch up in between bites of sugary cereal. She regales him with how valiantly Jonathan tried to get you to take his room upstairs for your stay and how stubbornly you’d refused, insisting you’d be fine on the couch.

“I was right,” Robin says, some milk dribbling from her mouth as she chews. “Total knock-out and smart. Dunno how Munson managed it.”

“Oh y’know, the Munson charm probably.”

She hums in thought, setting her empty bowl in the sink. “Why d’you think he didn’t tell us?”

“Maybe he wanted it to be a surprise?”

“Fuck, what if he knocked her up?!”

Steve’s eyes blow wide at that thought. “Uh,” He says, astutely, “I don’t think that’s the case.”

“Yeah,” Robin hops down from her perch on the counter. “But how do we know?”

“You could ask her.”

She punches him in the arm, “You don’t just ask women if they’re pregnant Steve, geeze.”

He shrugs and slurps the sugary milk from the bowl before setting it alongside Robin’s. He licks his lips and crosses his arms in thought. Steve hadn’t considered the rather obvious conclusion that his rockstar best friend had inadvertently knocked someone up. Considering the groupies and types that flocked to Eddie, it was a long time coming.

If that’s what the case may be.

As it stands, it’s nearly two in the morning and Steve is exhausted. Thankfully, Family Video is closed for the holiday tomorrow, but he knows that in a few hours everyone is going to tramping around the house and generally being a nuisance. And he really doesn’t wanna drive clear across town to his place.

Steve pauses on the stairs, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest. Robin clears the landing and calls to him from the guest room, “C’mon dingus, I haven’t got all night.”

With a shake of his head, he climbs the stairs mindful not to linger too long on the creaky boards. He settles in sharing a bed with Robin, her icicle feet darting under his calves as he fusses with the blankets. His head hits the pillow, and he’s out like a light.

All you can think as you blearily blink yourself awake, is how everything is so loud. Even when they try to be quiet, scampering across the hall past the living room where you clung to the last vestiges of sleep - it was loud. Strained whispers about breakfast and hospital visits, the opening and closing of doors, Hopper hissing at the kids to “Keep your mouths shut,” and to “Stop chasing each other across the house!”

A man, whom you can only assume is Steve, stumbles down the stairs, sweats swung low on his hips sporting a threadbare t-shirt and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. You’ve never seen a human being with bedhead like that - strands sticking up every which way and the sheer volume it had, my god. Hand falling from his eye, his glasses slot back into place, a pair of simple round frames decked in silver. He stops short at the landing, one hand grasping the wood of the bannister, watching as you set the phone back in its cradle.

“Leaving so soon?”

And that voice - all husky and low from sleep, with a slight rasp to it. It’s amazing you’re not reduced to a puddle on the floor at this point. He stretches slowly, like an animal would, a hushed groan falling from his lips. You swallow the lump in your throat and drag your eyes from the sliver of skin exposed at his hip.

“No, just talking to Wayne.” You offer meekly, voice rusty from disuse, “He’s on his way over for an early morning hospital run.”

“Mmm,” Steve nods, “That’s not a bad idea.” He turns the corner from the stairs and stands beside you in the entryway. “I don’t think we’ve officially met,” He says, offering his hand to shake. “I’m Steve.”

“Nice to meet you.” You shake hands and introduce yourself. His hand is large and warm, the contact of your skin against his sending a shiver down your spine.

“That’s a pretty name,” He smiles at you, beginning to wake up a bit more. “So, you’re the fiancée.”

“Yup.”

“Huh.” He looks you up and down, clucks his tongue and departs, making his way toward the kitchen.

Once there, all hell breaks loose. Joyce and Hop are manning the stove and counter, flipping pancakes and shovelling eggs onto plates and all but throwing them at the kids. Wedged into the breakfast nook are Dustin, Lucas, and Mike while El, Max, Robin, and Jonathan commandeer the table in the kitchen.

“Mornin’ family.” Steve greets, bee-lining for the coffeemaker. Blessedly, there’s a fresh pot brewing in the percolator while he scavenges for a mug.

Mumbled versions of “Morning Steve,” sound out from the peanut gallery between bites of food and sips of coffee or orange juice. Joyce sets a plate in front of him on the counter and ruffles his hair, “Morning kiddo.”

Hop sighs from the stove, turning the dial of the burner to ‘Off’ before intoning, “The kitchen is officially closed, you gremlins.”

Steve chuckles as he removes the coffeepot and gives a generous pour into the ‘World’s Best Dad’ mug El made many moons ago. He’s not sure of your preferred cream-to-sugar ratio, so he decides to go without and trots out of the kitchen.

He sees the front door close at the end of the hall and quickens his step not wanting to miss you. Spying a pair of slides from god knows who, he slips them on and pulls the door open. Wayne’s old pickup is idling in the driveway as you step into the cab, feet unsteady and the newly formed ice of the drive. Wayne nods to Steve in greeting as he walks toward the house, while Steve waves in return.

“Careful,” He says as a hand comes to rest at your back.

Tossing a ‘thanks’ over your shoulder, you settle into the seat with a click of the seatbelt. “Did you need something?” You ask, breath forming puffs of vapor in the morning light.

“Well, uh,” Steve begins, ducking his head and gesturing to the mug in his hand. “The coffee’s not too great over there at the hospital.” He hands you the mug through the open door.

“Oh, thank you.”

He leans against the car, face level with yours. One fist at the roof of the cab while his opposite arm braces against the open door. A lock of hair falls into his face, and he’s so attractive that it’s stupid. “So, uh, y-you’re comin’ back, right? You’ll come back?”

You glance to him, unsure of why he’s so concerned with your whereabouts. “Yeah, we’re just checking in. We’ll be back soon.”

Steve nods at your confirmation, pushing off of the truck to stand at his full height. His hands slide to his hips, fingers just beneath the band of the sweatpants as he slowly arches his back, hips bobbing toward you. And you don’t know whether to maintain eye contact with him or focus on the looming proximity of his crotch.

“Oh boy,” He exhales, looking off into the distance. “What a day.”

Your eyes dart away when he looks to you once more, uncomfortable under his scrutiny. “Well, thank you.” You hold the mug up and take a tentative sip, “Good goddamn,” You whisper in disbelief.

“It’s good, right?” You nod and take another sip as he smiles, “I had a dream about you last night.” He tugs at the band of his sweats while your eyes cut to his.

“What?”

“Yeah,” He leans against the truck again, face closer to yours and arms resting against the roof of the cab. “I ended up havin’ a dream about you.”

“W-what was I doing?” You stammer out, as the sound of crushed snow and ice underfoot signals Wayne’s return.

“Well–” Steve starts to say before he’s cut off by Wayne’s, “Y’ready, sweetheart?”

You nod and clear your throat uncomfortably.

“You comin’?” Wayne asks Steve before he closes the passenger door.

“Later.” He turns to leave as Wayne settles into the driver’s seat but before you can pull out of the driveway, “Oh, y’know, you gotta make sure to bring back the mug because it’s Hop’s favorite.”

You stare back at him blankly.

“Or he’ll kill ya.”

“Okay,” You breathe watching as he makes his way back to the house, Adidas slides flopping through the snow.

Returning from the hospital an hour or so later, with plans to bring a few plates over for Eddie’s attending doctor and nurses, you nearly breeze past Steve sitting on the staircase with a mug of coffee and paper in hand.

“Hey,” You greet, toeing off your boots and shrugging out of your coat. “Wayne’s coming back for later, just had to grab some things from his place.”

He’s changed out of his sweats and done something to tame his hair. You can hear Joyce frantically corralling the kids in the kitchen, something about Mass and how she refuses to be late again. Steve shakes his head and drinks his coffee, ready and waiting to cart Robin, Dustin, and Max over to Our Lady of Perpetual Mercy for the Thanksgiving Mass.

But it would seem that no one warned you about Mass last night, which would explain the deer in headlights look you’re sporting now. Steve stands from his perch on the stairs, turning to yell at Robin, “Our Lady may have perpetual mercy, but I don’t and you’re really pushing it today Rob!”

When he turns back, you’re no longer in the entryway. The kitchen door swings as if someone just passed through, and he can hear your voice over the chatter from the kids. Joyce is rattling off instructions and times for food to be cooked and you’re diligently taking notes on the whiteboard attached to the fridge. Your handwriting is neat, and a bit slanted, giving it an effortless look. Capping the marker, you let it swing from the string on the fridge.

“Think that about does it,” You assure Joyce, gesturing to the lone velcro roller in her hair. “I’ll have everything ready by the time you get back.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with?” She asks, unraveling the roller and setting it on the windowsill above the sink. “I’m sure Robin has something you could borrow.”

Steve catches your eye roll and snorts into his mug. Your eyes cut to him, silently admonishing his outburst. He shakes his head and sets the mug on the counter, seeing Hop’s mug he loaned you earlier already on the drying rack.

“I don’t want to be a bother,” You kindly brush her off, “Besides, you’ll want to get going soon and I would just hold you up.”

“And the hotel is dropping off your luggage later?”

You nod, tying on an apron and moving to wash your hands. “Yeah, I spoke with the concierge this morning.”

“I wish you’d just sleep in Jonathan’s old room,” Joyce tuts, “He can go on the couch, he’s used to it.”

“Mom, I already offered—”

You laugh and raise your hand, “It’s fine Joyce, I’m already an imposition as it is. The last thing I’d want to do is put him out.”

Steve watches as you blend in with the family, how easily you soothe Joyce and her worries, banter with the kids, and crack jokes with Hop. It’s easy to see why Eddie could fall for someone like you. He just wishes he could find someone like that— easy going and kind, someone who fits in like a missing puzzle piece.

But maybe it’s too perfect.

Now there’s some food for thought.

A loud honk from Hop’s Bronco jars him from his musings. Steve claps his hands together, rallying the troops, “Okay, who’s with me?” Dustin, Lucas, and Max jump up from the table and gather their coats, scurrying out to the beemer. Robin takes the stairs two at a time, struggling to shrug into her coat. “Look alive, sunshine!”

Goodbyes ring out as you follow them to the porch, watching as they clamber into their cars. You wave as they pull out of the drive, Joyce rolling down the window for a final reminder about the dinner rolls. With good humor, you nod and give her a thumbs up as the Bronco drives onto the street.

The church parking lot is packed by the time they arrive. Steve drops off Robin and the kids before peeling out to find a parking spot, while Hop leaves the Bronco in the drop-off lane in front. Mass has already begun when Steve enters the chapel, quickly he slips in alongside Hop and Joyce at the family pew.

“We pray that the Lord’s healing presence will be felt by those who are sick and by their families. Especially Robert Newby, Barbara Holland, and Edward Munson. We pray to the Lord,” The priest intones from the lectern.

“Lord hear our prayer.”

Steve stands in between Hopper and Robin, waiting for the priest to move it along.

“O, God, you call us to live as one family. Save us from…”

Finally, they sit. Half-paying attention to the priest, Steve turns to Hop and asks, “So, who’s this fiancée?”

“She’s Eddie’s girl, she’s family now.”

“You’d think if Eddie were getting married, he would have announced it in the Times.”

Hop turns to him, “We read the Indianapolis Star.”

And the congregants say, “Amen.”

“If she’s family, why isn’t she at Mass with us?”

Hop snorts, “That’s rich, comin’ from you, kid.”

“I like Mass better in Latin,” Wayne pipes up from his seat next to Joyce, “It’s nicer when you don’t know what they’re sayin’.”

“D’ya think about what I said the other night?”

“Nope.”

“Steve, come on.” Hop stands with the rest of the congregation, “You’ve got the instinct for it, and gettin’ through the Academy is a breeze.”

“I told you,” Steve says following suit, “I don’t wanna be a cop for chrissakes.”

“Stop swearing,” Joyce hisses, “We’re in Mass.”

“But there is something I’d like to talk to you about.”

“Well, you can talk about it later,” Joyce reminds them.

“Talk about it now,” Robin says leaning toward Steve conspiratorially, “He can’t kill you in church.”

“Will you please pipe down?” An exasperated parishioner asks from the pew behind them.

Hop scoffs and slowly turns around, “Hey, be nice, pal. We’re in church.”

“You’re disrupting the Mass!” He hisses back.

“Yeah? And who made you the Pope?”

“Jim!” Joyce hisses, nudging with an elbow.

“Now how did Argyle get to be a lector?” Wayne asks, “He took over Ed’s gig with Reefer Rick after he moved to LA with the band.”

Steve and Hopper snort, Robin tries and fails to repress her laughter. Down past Wayne, Dustin and Mike are a few seconds from a slap fight while Max and El whisper in between fits of giggles. Joyce sighs deeply.

And the congregation says, “Amen.”

Cooking Thanksgiving lunch goes off without a hitch. Everything was ready, as you promised, by the time they’d returned from Mass and you’d caught the tail end of Joyce’s scolding: “We will try to behave as a civilized family might—”

The kitchen door swung open to reveal Hopper and Joyce both stopping short at the sight of you washing dishes.

“H-how did you—” Joyce’s mouth opens and closes, struck dumb at the sight of gleaming dishes in the drying rack and the dishwasher already running.

“Oh, hi,” You toss over your shoulder, “The dining room table is set, I was just cleaning up in here.”

Steve and Robin file in soon after, bickering about something or other. They’re talking fast and cutting each other off, but it doesn’t deter their conversation.

“Why do you keep singling me out?” Steve balks, throwing his coat on the back of a nearby chair.

“Well, if you hadn’t been pestering Hop throughout Mass we might’ve—”

“And I can’t even defend myself?”

“Forget it,” Hop cuts in with a warning tone, “And I know you gave her my mug, Harrington.”

“Oh, did you need it?” Your hand flies to the cabinet above the coffeemaker, a fresh pot already brewed. “It’s all washed and ready to go.”

Dustin enters shortly after, “Let’s just vote Steve off the island,” and thumps him on the chest in passing.

“Yeah,” Hop agrees.

Steve sighs and runs a hand through his hair, “Well, I’m ashamed of all of you.”

“Oh, there’s some news,” Max mutters sarcastically, leaning against the fridge.

Steve’s eyes fall to Lucas, “Even you Sinclair.”

Lucas throws up his hands in exasperation, “I didn’t even do anything!”

“Okay, enough.” Joyce says cutting through the nonsense. “It’s Thanksgiving, we’re going to eat lunch without any of this bickering. And then, with any luck, you lot will pass out watching the game and I can finally get some goddamn peace.”

Everyone has the decency to look mildly embarrassed, that is until:

“No swearing.”

Steve punches Robin in the arm, “Can it.”

The room descends into guffaws and fits of laughter shortly thereafter. Joyce eventually herds everyone into the dining room, Robin pours the drinks while Hop carves the turkey. Everyone helps themselves to the various sides— dinner rolls, green bean casserole, mashed potatoes, gravy, cranberry sauce, stuffing, and roasted veggies. Wayne arrives with cornbread fresh from the oven and some vanilla ice cream to go with the pies for dessert.

The candles are lit casting a warm glow around the room, illuminating smiling faces. And it’s nice. Nice to belong, if only temporarily, to a big family that loves hard. Growing up, it had been only you and your dad. And after his death, that left only you. You had missed it, all of it— the inside jokes, sibling taunts, half-assed scolding followed by a cheeky wink, and that effortless touch.

It was second nature, how freely they expressed their affection for one another. Steve roping Dustin into a half-nelson for a noogie, Jonathan and Will kicking eachother under the table, El and Max communicating in half-formed sentences and wild gesticulations, Joyce, Hop, and Wayne sharing long-suffering sighs.

“Hey,” Robin says, nudging you with her elbow after refilling your wine glass. “I’m thankful for you.” Her voice is soft, like she’s sharing a secret. Cheeks tinged with a flush from the wine, she smiles at you and raises her glass. “I’d like to propose a toast,” She announced to the group, “To our newest addition and guardian angel, cheers!”

The sentiment is echoed across the table, calls of your name and ‘here, here.’ And it’s so kind that your heart could burst. You sip your wine and swallow around the lump in your throat. Going back to your meal, you can’t help but feel like you’re being watched, observed. Glancing up, you catch Steve looking at you from across the table.

The flicker of golden light against his face does little to ease the knot in your chest. His hair is slightly disheveled, a lock falling across his face wrought loose from his fingers combing through it. His eyes appear more green than hazel in the light, studying you from behind wire frames. Your pulse kicks up under his scrutiny, and he looks at you as if you’ll unravel right then and there.

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe it was the years of tropical vacations instead of celebrating holidays with friends and family that made you forget that, actually, families are complicated and any recollection of pleasant holiday celebrations spent with your dad were a figment of your own nostalgia-tinted imagination and the promise of skiing the next day.

For a moment, shame creeps upon you like a thief in the night. You tear yourself from Steve's gaze, not noticing the concerned furrow of his brows as you hastily stand and offer to clear some plates from the table. Sweeping out of the room and nudging the kitchen door open with your hip. He absentmindedly swirls the remaining wine in his glass and blows out a puff of air.

Ever the detective, it takes Hopper all of two seconds to ascertain that Steve did something to hasten your departure from the table. Seeing as the punk is pointedly not looking his way, Hopper lobs a dinner role at Steve, grazing his cheek only to land on his plate sending the cutlery clattering. He jerks upright, setting the glass on the table, “What the–”

“That’s enough,” Hop warns with cool detachment and a knowing look in his eye. He nods toward the kitchen, “Now, go make nice.”

Everything is still mostly out of your control in the kitchen, precisely because you don’t know where anything should go and having a knot in your chest as hard as a rock does little to help matters. But Steve silently rescues you by beginning to unload the dishwasher and Robin starts a thirty minute tale of increasing ridiculousness and by the time the attention turns back to you, you are slightly less hysteric and better able to answer El’s kind questions.

You swallow a twist of guilt and a bigger twist of gratitude. You feel some anxiety brimming in your stomach and nod, giving El a strained smile.

Something knocks against your shoulder. The warm scent of cedar and musk invading your senses— Steve.

“Your shoulders are up near your ears,” he observes.

You sigh at that, trying to roll out the tension, but not quite managing to. Par for the course, with your indeterminate stay in Hawkins looming in the air and stretching far across the foreseeable future.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #fic: tbsg #Spotify

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silent-sanctum · 6 months ago

Note

HIII I LOVEEE YOUR WORKS !!! can i request jotaro x reader but where by a stand attack jotaro was now part 6 jotaro with the teen reader ? How shocked and flustered would be rrader by seeing jitaro in his 40's ! Ty!!!

hiya anon! Thank you for the kind words 🥹 Sorry it took so long for me to get your request out. It was supposed to be yesterday but then some mishaps happened and it was delayed to today. But here we are! Hope you enjoy this quick lil crack(?) fic I wrote 💌

A Mild Inconvenience- 6!Taro x Reader

word count: 2.7k

You have no idea where he went nor when he disappeared.

It was strange as it happened when you think about it again; one day, you and Jotaro were out and about investigating the area for any suspicious activity, and then out of the blue a random stranger jumped out from the shadows and made a weird proclamation of sorts about taking down the Crusaders.

It wasn’t anything surprising given he was the nth enemy Stand user they faced throughout this trip and judging by the way he presented himself, he’s also boasting a fragile ego thinking he was all that.

But an enemy was still an enemy so you and your delinquent partner had no problem beating him to a pulp. It was rather easy compared to the previous opponents they faced. His Stand wasn’t anything grand at all; just a small ratty pouch filled with sparkling purple sand.

The weird aspect of the whole situation was when the guy was about to tap out after being at the receiving end of Star Platinum’s punch barrage, only then did he decide to get a fistful of sand from his tiny bag and throw it straight at Jotaro’s face.

Some of it ended up on yours and caused you to close your eyes for a brief second, covering your face as an extra barrier, and when you opened them, you furrowed your brows at the sudden lack of both Jotaro and the knocked-out Stand user.

“What-”

You waved the remaining plume of sand away from your face as you surveyed your surroundings. Don’t tell me- You double-checked the structures surrounding you, the locals walking about, and the general weather. Nope. I’m still in Cairo. The possibility of me in an alternate universe can be crossed out now.

But that didn’t answer the prevailing question of where the fuck did those two go?

“Jotaro-ssi?” You called out to him as you headed your way somewhere. You don’t know where but anywhere will do if it helped finding him. Not that it would be hard to spot a 6’5” tall teenager among the average-height people. “I don’t know if you’re trying to get back at me for teasing you but leaving me by myself isn’t exactly the best decision, asshole.”

You kept scouting the area for any signs of him, turned corners, and explored every alleyway. And still… nothing.

This went on for what felt like 45 minutes and at this point, you sweated a lot and your thighs started to cramp. With your hands on your hips, you groaned in frustration, head tilted to the sky. “Wah, who would’ve known you’d use Mr. Joestar’s family technique against me. Foul play,” you scoffed. “I get it, alright? Just show yourself already.”

Just as you were about to call it quits and assume he just went back to the inn where the others were, something caught your eye at the corner of your vision. In the midst of a parting crowd, you could spot someone standing out from the rest. Someone with a signature ripped hat and coat.

You smirked. “You and your tall ass.”

With a confident stride, you stalked past the unbothered locals and made your way to the towering figure. However, as you neared him, it was only then you noticed the stark difference in his appearance; instead of his primarily black school uniform, he was decked in a purple-dominating outfit with gold accents all over. The design of his chain was different too, changed from the simple golden hoops to one that ended with a golden hook or anchor.

But aside from his grandfather, you knew no one else as tall as the delinquent, so you pushed forward and poked the man’s shoulder. “Hello, I believe you left something valuable back there.”

“Excuse me?”

You stepped back and gaped at the subtle difference in his voice. Not like there were any major differences. It’s still deep and gravelly, but somehow his voice was… milder for lack of a better term. As if it was polished to be more refined.

And as he turned around to look at you, you gaped at the visible changes found in your supposed 17-year-old boyfriend.

Jotaro looked older… way older than he’s supposed to. His cheekbones were more prominent, his eyes a bit sunken, gray streaks of hair lined segments of his head underneath his purple hat, and his hair was trimmed short. Not only that, it seemed that underneath his new flashier coat, he seemed to be built… a bit more. Resembling that of young, about-to-be silver foxes?

You cleared your throat and hoped the warmth in your cheeks faded as instantly as you wished. “Jotaro-ssi?”

He squinted at you, equally confused. “Y/N-ssi?”

“I don’t know if it’s just the heat starting to make me see things, but you look really different… and older.”

“Likewise. You look like your vibrant, youthful self.”

You coughed, trying not to succumb to bashful flattery from the compliment said by the gruff voice of this seemingly more mature Jotaro. “Clearly- well first off, thank you for that- but I’ll have to clarify some things.”

Jotaro tilted his head in curiosity. “I have questions to ask myself. But go on.”

“This might sound stupid but how old are you?”

“40.”

You remained silent, speechless with your brows furrowed and mouth agape as you processed what he said. “F-Forty? 4… 0?”

But he dismissed your surprise and simply asked, “What year is it today?”

“1987?”

Jotaro cursed under his breath, crossing his arms. “Figured… how the hell did this happen?” He let out a deep sigh. “Good grief, I’m too tired for this. Just as I was about to finish paperwork as well.”

“Hey Jo- err mister,” you said. “Can we talk about whatever the heck is going on somewhere that’s not in the open?”

He turned back to you and with one sweeping look around his surroundings, he nodded. “Sure.”

---

It was out of nowhere when he found himself standing in the middle of a marketplace.

Not even a minute passed and with a blink of an eye, Jotaro was no longer in his office signing documents but found himself getting pushed and shoved by a passing crowd of dark to tan-skinned locals. He recognized these buildings and streets. With a cock of his head, he said to himself, “What… Why am I here?”

Just then, someone poked his back. “Hello, I believe you left something valuable back there.”

Wait. “Excuse me?”

He turned around and he grew even more confused as he saw you- or rather, a younger you- behind him, looking up at him with an expression that mirrored his.

This was odd. The last he saw you was mere hours ago as you- a 40-year-old version of you- kissed him goodbye as you headed off to the Foundation to resume work while he stayed behind to focus on tasks related to his day job as a biologist.

But then he considered a couple of things: The buildings of Cairo, the locals, a stunned you being a teenager…

It meant one thing and as he asked you that question, you confirmed it and he was appalled. Nothing happened to him in his timeline, but it wasn’t the case for his younger self.

You offered to bring him back indoors where they could continue the discussion somewhere more private, and with nothing else giving him any solutions to his dilemma, he agreed.

Hence, here they were- sitting a couple of feet apart in a room of an inn with the rest of the Crusaders out still doing their agendas for the day. You sat on the foot of the bed while he remained leaning against the wall, finger under his chin as he tried to figure out what to do.

“Knowing you, I guess you’d rather we talk about possible solutions to your current situation?”

“It won’t be necessary,” Jotaro said. “As it always was with the others, it’s a Stand attack and it caused your Jotaro to swap with me, a future version of him. And since I’m here it means that the ability is currently active. The usual solution to this is to find the user again and tamper with his Stand to bring everything back to normal.”

“We’ll simply approach the old man or the agent currently working with him now to find the latest intel on the Stand user. That way, we can track him down faster. However, since they’re currently out wherever, we’ll simply just wait for them to arrive here and then we can ask for the important details.”

You stared at him with awe. “Woah, you’re much more knowledgeable about this whole Stand business than I thought.”

He shrugged. “Years of experience do that to you.”

“I mean yeah but it’s just wild how age can change a person because look at you!” You said as you made a sweeping gesture over his body. “Not only did you age like fine wine, but you actually grew out of your ‘tough guy’ act into this sage-like adult! Look at you openly sharing a strategy that isn’t just punching.”

Jotaro might have blushed at the ‘fine wine’ comment but pretended to not notice it and said, “I’ve always thought about strategies ever since my teenage years. It’d be dumb if the only solution to everything was a heavy punch or two.”

“I did say ‘openly’, didn’t I?” You raised a brow at him. “Let’s be honest, you did often resort to a classic Star Platinum barrage when it’s offered on the table.”

He thought back to his youth and took into account how often he resorted to simple violence as a quick solution to everything. Huh. I guess you weren’t wrong. “Well… you have a point. But let’s say it’s simply me still learning how Star worked. He did just manifest the same year as the trip.”

“You also called him an evil spirit,” you said. “Poor Star when all he did was protect you.”

Jotaro rolled his eyes and he could’ve sworn a part of his soul did the same thing in him. “I didn’t know better. Besides, he’s grown to be a reliable companion over the years. That I can acknowledge.”

Then there was a moment of silence where you just stared at him without a word. He kept silent as well, staring out the window as he waited for time to pass. “Oh by the way mister,” he glanced at you. “Is that a wedding ring snug on your finger?”

Admittedly, he never expected you to bring up that specific observation but he should’ve seen it coming when he had his arms exposed and crossed for you to eventually see. “Yeah. What about it?”

With a smug look, you interlocked your fingers under your chin and said, “Who’s the lucky person Mr. Kujo?”

Jotaro stared at you and various images of an aged version of you flashed in mind; memories of you during your wedding day, to when he accompanied you as you joined the Speedwagon Foundation, down until you brought your daughter Jolyne into the world and watched her grow into a confident woman with him by your side.

He broke his gaze with a cough and feigned casual stoicism. “I can’t disclose future events.”

Being the same perceptive individual as he knew you in the future, you smirked with a knowing look. “I see. I must say, how lucky they were to bag someone so intellectual and strong. What do you do again aside from tracking Stand users of course? I’m curious.”

“Primarily, I work as one of the leading marine biologists in the institute I’m under, but I part-time as a biology professor at a university in Florida as well.”

“Ooh~” you drawled with an impressed yet bashful smile growing behind the hand covering your pink cheeks. “Such accolades. Guess that interest of yours really took off, huh?”

Jotaro curled his lip, proud of himself for once. “It appeared so.”

“Gotta take notes for when 17-year-old you return,” you snickered. “Got any kids?”

“Perhaps.”

“How many? Girl or boy?”

“A daughter.”

You cooed, holding back a squeal of wholesome adoration. “I knew it. I figured you’d be a girl dad! I can only imagine how cute she is.” Jotaro smiled again. Jolyne was his little bundle of joy indeed. “Though if I’m gonna be honest, I thought she had siblings.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, weren’t you going at it as passionate lovers?”

Jotaro choked on his spit, caught off guard at the sudden question. “Well we are busy adults so we didn’t get many opportunities, but in the occasional moments we do, it is indeed… passionate. You did have the stamina and vigor to ravage me when you could.”

You stared at him, stunned. “What?”

He stared back, not registering what he said. “What?”

And then silence again between two staring individuals.

“Y/N! Jotaro! We’re back!”

Both you and he snapped out of the unintentional staring contest, each of them covering their embarrassed faces behind their hands as they looked anywhere but at each other. You dumbass. Why did you say that?

“W-Well,” you started. “They’re here now. I guess we start finding the guy responsible for this?”

Jotaro reeled from his minute-long foolishness and put his default stone-faced expression back on. “The sooner the better.”

---

Just as he said, beating the enemy Stand user the second time did the trick.

To start, upon seeing one of their companions aged up significantly, the Crusaders reasonably questioned both of you about what the hell was going on and you explained half of what had happened, only for Jotaro to help you out by continuing the other half of the conversation.

And you weren’t going to lie, but learning that he was able to voice out his thoughts more openly than before was both admiring and attractive. But your apparent affinity for hot older men with kids will be tackled on another day. Probably never.

After disclosing the need to locate the pocket sand Stand user, Mr. Joestar and the agent working with him were able to track his current location and the first second it was revealed, both of you wasted no time and hurried over to the man responsible.

Luckily for both of you, you didn’t have to resort to any more violence as the user- already beaten down and recovering from his injuries- complied with whatever you wanted out of him and let him hand over his magic Stand sand.

You and old man Jotaro said your goodbyes. It was nothing too special nor was it anything emotional. You were surprised to see a future version of your boyfriend, got fascinated by his progress in life, and now not only were you about to meet up with the current Jotaro and spill the news about what he was to become, you also got to bring back the adult to his timeline.

A win-win for everyone.

Little did you know just as the sand struck him again, the plumes still managed to fly onto your face and caused your eyes to shut and your brain to fuzz out momentarily.

When you opened them again, you were met with the classic punk delinquent Jotaro that you knew and love.

He coughed and waved the remaining sand cloud hovering around you and said, “What the hell was that?”

“An inconvenience that’s what,” you said. “Oh! By the way, I have something to share with you!”

“Same. You go first.”

“Alright, so…” You started with enthusiasm, only for your words to trail off as your mind ran blank. “I… uh, I don’t remember what I was about to say actually.”

Jotaro crossed his arms. “Oh really?”

“You know I don’t joke about this,” you whined. “Well, how about you go ahead and tell me about your day then, hm?”

He didn’t say anything as he looked elsewhere, eyes deep in concentration as he was trying to search for a specific memory in his brain, and after a minute or two of nothing, you smirked at him. “Well? Where’s the story time, Jotaro-ssi?”

“Fuck, I can’t recall anything.”

You chuckled. “I thought so. Serves you right for doubting me.”

“H-Hey, can I go now?”

You and Jotaro turned to the meek ex-enemy Stand user, hands up under the heavy weight of your stares. He looked at you and cocked a brow. “Your call.”

At that, you shrugged. “Sure.” You turned to the delinquent with a content smile. He, in turn, averted his gaze away from yours with faint reddened cheeks. “I already got what I need from you.”

#jotaro x reader #jojos bizarre adventure #jjba #jotaro kujo

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cattimeswithjellie · 5 months ago

Text

Server Tour Stream Recap (Gem POV) 6-13-2024

((It's finally done! It's 13,000 words long! It is also available on AO3 (as are all the other recaps) if you can't read it here, just look for my username Etraytin!))

1:55 Gem opens the stream and greets the chat. She’s inside her base, grabbing rockets because today is a special day! She’s streaming a Hermitcraft meeting, which is weird, but this meeting is actually a server tour where everyone will get a chance to see one anothers’ bases. The tour was Joe’s idea and some people will be streaming, some recording. Gem already recorded today, so here she is!

3:00 Gem joins in on the server tour voice group, where the Hermits are complimenting each others’ weird outfits. Ren is showing off his new skin, a Gigacorp space suit. Cleo tells him he no longer looks like a kid who dressed himself. Ren tells them that was the mission, to regain some semblance of dignity. Cleo would not go that far. Gem adjusts the sound levels to make everyone more audible, just as Cleo asks everyone who is streaming to mute for a moment. Apparently she has more to say about Ren’s outfit. Joe and Gem both confirm that they will not be deafening. Cleo tells Ren she will talk with him later about the thing she just noticed about his outfit. Ren doesn’t like the sound of this. Bdubs asks Ren where exactly the pink stripe is on his outfit. Ren, somewhat defensively, says it’s on his belt buckle. Cleo is still laughing. Joel crouches for a good look as Bdubs decides he knows everything he needs to know. Joel makes a comment about something peeking just a little bit. He could be talking about the microphones, sure. Gem scolds the Hermits, reminding them that Cleo wasn’t even going to say it! Cleo admits that wasn’t what she was going to mention. Ren admits that he’s just sen what the other Hermits are seeing, and he hates his life. He tells everyone he’ll see them next season and leaves the game.

5:20 Gem checks volume levels with Chat, just as Jono raids into the stream. Chat is real distracted by Ren’s outfit, but they attempt to participate in the volume check. In the background, Joe explains that he has four shulkers of lava to represent the lava pool from the start of the season, where they’d once intended to meet to kick off their world tour. The Hermits begin digging a new lava pool. Ren comes back and says this reminds him of 1.7, just flat grass and lava. Gem has missed Joe’s explanation of why they are digging the lava pool, but she has to resist the temptation to knock her friends into it. She punches Joel instead, who tries to shoot her with an arrow. Cleo really hopes that Hypno, whose yard the new pool is in, chose this exact spot to log out.

7:30 The question is raised, whose base to visit first? Xisuma is the obvious choice, being as how it is literally right there, but he claims to be “wildly unprepared.” Joe suggests that this will just make the other Hermits feel better about their own bases. They wait for everyone to join who is coming, while Ren appreciates the Eye of Sauron (Cub’s glass firework) staring down upon them all. While they are waiting, the group resumes teasing Ren. Cleo jokes that if Ren thinks eyes look like that, he should see an optician. Xisuma asks Ren how many fingers he’s holding up. (“One stump,” Ren answers accurately.) Gem comments on Ren’s brand new facial hair. Gigacorp Ren has been working hard and has had no time to shave.

9:20 Gem thanks subs and donos, then authorizes her mods to ban a chatter who is misbehaving. Ren wishes he could grow a nice beard IRL like Bdubs. Bdubs is of the opinion it is as much a burden as a blessing. He is clearly trying to make Ren feel better. Bdubs and Cleo debate whether Johnny Depp is still a sex symbol. The guys jump in on the side of Johnny Depp. Joel claims that his granddad is a sex symbol and he’s 80. Joe guesses that Joel’s grandfather is Mick Jagger. Cleo doesn’t want to hear about anybody’s grandfather being sexy. Gem is visibly rebooting on her facecam, trying to figure out what has happened to the conversation during her thirty seconds away. She demands to know what they are even talking about. Joel tells her nothing, it’s fine. She begins punching him in the direction of the lava. He sets her on fire. She scolds him for being violent. Chat says nobody should set Gem on fire during pride month.

10:50 Cleo demands to know if there’s actually a way to stop Gem from punching people. Joel says sure, just hit her back (with a fire aspect sword, apparently). Gem says that Joel can, with the heavy implication that she doesn’t believe Cleo has Joel’s skill in hitting back. Ren says this is all a very wholesome start to their evening of base tours. The Hermits gather around the lava pool and demand Xisuma jump in so things can be just like they were in Episode One. Xisuma welcomes everyone to the first mini world tour of the season and jumps in the lava. He catches on fire and is extinguished by the others. They all feel very nostalgic about it. Cleo asks if this means Demise is starting again. Joe says it’s time to go trap Bdubs. Bdubs is unenthusiastic. Gem punches Joel one more time to show she will not be intimidated, and then it is time to go!

11:50 Joe asks what inspired Xisuma’s base design, he says “Stuff I saw on Google.” It’s a loose interpretation of Aztec building design. The garden is the first stop, Gem loves it. They discuss his garden design, which makes use of cherry leaves to drop petals and the new tuff blocks. Cleo critiques the sinister aesthetic of X’s villager farm, but Gem is distracted by a palm tree made of diamond blocks. This was a payment from Keralis, who has too many diamonds. Joel is jealous and complains that nobody is buying his honey, still. He doesn’t have the honeycomb permit and nobody wants honey blocks. Cleo says that they will all buy honey from him now just to stop him complaining about it. Gem does not mind the complaining and heckles Joel about how much better honeycomb is than honey. Bdubs asks why anyone would ever need a whole stack of honey blocks and asks if Joel sells individual blocks. Joel says sure, but they’re six diamonds so you might as well buy the stack for the same price.

14:30 Gem wanders into the storage room and exclaims over the massive wall of brightly-colored shulker boxes. The group has broken up by now. Xisuma leads everyone into the storage room, where they agree with Gem’s initial impression of “_so many_ shulker boxes.”Xisuma explains that behind the extraordinary number of shulker boxes is an extraordinary amount of redstone. He has a shulker unloader and all the boxes are filters to sort into. He also has a shulker box mod that puts a picture of the item on each shulker box, rather than being an enormous blank wall of shulkers like it is to Gem and Chat. He explains a bit more how the system works while the Hermits make an enormous racket opening shulker boxes. Joe asks what a potion of strength is for and why Xisuma is making them. Xisuma has no answers for him.

16:20 Gem wanders away again, down a labyrinth of underground tunnels. Xisuma explains that he wanted to connect the two halves of his base, but he decided to make a twisted and turning tunnel rather than a straight shot. Bdubs appreciates how mazelike it feels. Gem slides down the up side of the honey elevator amd gets stuck, losing track of the others in the process. False and Doc are also stuck, so at least she has company in the claustrophobic space. They figure themselves out and rejoin the group, except for Joel who is stuck in a spiderweb and Doc, who is stuck in the elevator. Now that Gem has figured it out, she loves the honey elevator. Bdubs finds a horse named “Nametag.” Cleo gets stuck in the elevator and declares it broken. The other hermits gather on the roof while Xisuma coaxes Cleo out of the elevator. Gem punches Joe into the elevator shaft but he has figured it out and doesn’t even lodge a protest as he climbs out.

20:10 Xisuma gives up on Cleo and wishes them the best of luck before leading the group on the flying portion of the base tour. Someone, probably Joe, is flying with explosive rockets. Gem exclaims that she has never been to this part of the base before and it is way bigger than she thought it was. It is indeed very large. X says this part is not decorated yet, but it’s for all his autocrafting and tree farms. His combination tree farm/autocrafter can make every different type of wood block. Gem is on the other side of the large space, but the Hermits near the tree-farm area begin uh-ohing as Doc (proprietor of Big Wood) unsheathes his sword. X also shows off his bamboo autocrafting area where he makes mosaic blocks to Bdubs (holder of the bamboo permit) just so he can bother all his friends equally. Bdubs is not impressed, partly because he has a setup like that already and partly because nobody will buy mosaic blocks. Cleo, fresh out of the elevator, says she’s bought some, that she’s been trying to buy stuff off everyone. ((Cleo, the owner of the S-Tier enchanting books permit and the hay bales permit, is somewhere in the top 3 of richest Hermits.)) Bdubs thanks her graciously and says she’s doing a wonderful job. False suggests the reason Xisuma has a diamond block tree is because he doesn’t need to buy anything. Doc heaves a sigh.

22:10 Xisuma wants to make sure to mention that the permits are for selling materials, but if people just want to be given items for free, they can come over here and take what they need. Reactions to this are very mixed, mostly based on who is selling what commodities. Cleo is laughing pretty hard. Doc threatens a lawsuit, which of course segues back into the pig murder saga. Joel interrupts this by killing the horse that has been down in this hole for ages, much to Xisuma’s chagrin. Joel claims it was unavoidable because he got stuck in the water, but Joel’s penchant for horse-murder is well known. Doc tries to use this as proof to Cleo that killing nameless animals in people’s bases is totally normal for this server and they can’t be mad about it, Cleo tells him to come back and say it to their face, see how it goes. Doc decides not to press his luck and demurs, saying Judge Bdubs will decide. Joe has been preparing his arguments and is ready for court! Doc smugly tells Cleo that he’s lawyered up, what do they think about that? Cleo thinks that Doc’s lawyer is very punchable.

23:40 This seems like a good time to move on with the tour. Ren seems like the next closest for a base tour. Ren insists upon full immersion and makes everyone land at X’s base so they can go in through the back door. Cleo says “I don’t want-” and makes some kind of horrible strangled laughing noise even as Bdubs hisses “stop it!” at them. Gem insists that Cleo keep it together, and if they have to say it, they had doggone well better mute first. The whole group is clearly thinking the exact same joke, but nobody else was brave enough to voice it. Ren sighs. Cleo insists that anybody else in the group is allowed to sigh, but not Ren, presumably because this is all his fault and also usually he’d be the first one making the double entendre joke.

24:45 Ren leads the way into the immersive experience of his research base, which is best experienced on foot and with gas masks on, on account of the many extremely toxic gases in the air. Most of the Hermits ignore this warning but Xisuma, the only Hermit who literally has a space helmet as part of his skin, puts on a wolf mask for safety. Ren escorts everyone through the bioscanner that is supposed to detect hostile aliens. Doc plays at not being able to get through the scanner. Cleo suggests killing him and Gem helpfully throws a few punches in his direction. Doc notices Ren’s beard, which he grew during many sleepless nights of researching. Gem admires the many pickles being used in the terraforming, but Cleo points out that Ren will definitely have some kind of alien, non-pickle name to call them by.

25:40 Ren explains that the lore of his base is that it is a pop-up prefab dome placed on many planets and powered by liquid sulfur that is produced by the weird toxic plants that grow up around it. He leads them into the decontamination chamber and shows off the HC10 Lore Capsule, which is full of artifacts from the first stream weekend of the season. He describes his build palette and everyone is actually quiet long enough to listen, up until Gem notices her own heads mounted on the wall of the chamber. Ren is proud of his fighting prowess. Gem admits he is surprisingly good with a trident.

27:50 Ren leads the way to the hangar bay, which doubles as his storage room. Gem is surprised to notice how empty it is, and Ren admits he hasn’t got much stuff in it yet. She is disappointed and says she thought he was so organized. Bdubs points out that it’s easy to organize nothing. Ren shows off the nicely decorated command center and gets a little heckling for his stuffed mailbox. Joel would hate to see what Ren’s email inbox looks like, Ren doesn’t want to talk about it. Everyone admires the computer screens False worked out for Ren’s walls, made of rotated banners on armor stands. Ren apologizes that there is no way out of the hangar bay without flying, so Gem helpfully leaves a scaffold ladder on her way out.

29:50 Ren shows off the microbiomes within his big custom biome, including the fungus-treed Mytreelium Biome. He shows off the “liquid sulfur” lake made of honey blocks. Joel approves heartily and begs people to buy more honey. Gem gamely points out that she can see dirt beneath the honey blocks and it ruins the effect. A deeper lake of honey, maybe even several layers, would surely help. Xisuma finds a little honey-lined cave and jumps in to investigate before realizing he can’t get out. He warns the others not to jump down there. Gem instantly attempts to punch Joel into the honey. Ren points out his mud farm and his stonemasons. The Hermits are very upset about the living conditions for the stonemasons, who do not have gas masks. Ren admits that the civilians here do not have a very long life expectancy. He points out the outer wall and explains that it exists to contain the infection of alien biome on the outside world. “Please come and visit The Infection!” Cleo quips.

32:30 Ren’s favorite part of his base is the exploration truck, which has featured in many of his livestreams already. The Hemits really like the truck. Gem and Joel immediately hop into the cockpit and pretend to drive it, complete with engine noises. When they try to rejoin the tour and see the lounge, Ren scolds them for not driving. Getting out of the truck is harder than getting it, and Joel and Gem both plaster themselves against the door thanks to Doc fiddling with the lever. Everybody likes Ren’s base.

35:00 False is suggested as the next base for touring. She starts her tour at the bridge, where her own severed head is welcoming people. Joel says it’s creepy, she points out that it’s fairly tame compared to what was in Ren’s base. Skizz joins the tour a bit late and tags along. Gem appreciates the decorative melons. False remembers to ask Joel to please not kill her rabbit. She shows off her armor stand work, which Joel interprets as “a child who is also a blast furnace” but is actually a small robot interacting with a potter. Doc makes a reference to the movie Ghost that is enough of a reach that even the Hermits old enough to remember Ghost (1990) don’t get it until he explains it. This is going to be a market area with more armor stand work on the way, according to False.

37:10 It turns out False’s base is much bigger on the inside than it appeared, with multiple layers full of storage and farms. Gem is impressed by the size of the place, though False points out that it’s less impressive after seeing Xisuma’s monstrosity. False’s base does have the advantage of looking less like an enormous hole in the ground, though. Her farms are nicely organized and separated by catwalks. The Hermits are impressed. Doc tries to beg a torchflower off False, but she is firm that he should buy them at the flower shop. Bdubs, obviously familiar with the medium, asks False if she regrets using so much copper in the build. She admits she has had to call Xisuma a few times in a panic because she doesn’t have enough copper blocks for her roof. Bdubs understands completely, but also agrees copper is worth it because it is so beautiful. Joel falls off a catwalk with a scream, Gem is immediately inspired to try and punch Doc in as well. Gem just does, like, so much punching when she is in a group.

39:00 Gem adjusts the volume on Skizz, who is nearly inaudible in the continuing vocal scrum. Xisuma realizes that Skizz is wearing the arrow-through-the-head hat and is amused and impressed. False leads the way to her next building, with Joel and Bdubs passing judgment on her excessive use of copper trapdoors (a judgment clearly motivated by envy). False admits to transitioning to jungle wood for part of the build to save on copper, but it’s still a lot of copper. Joel sounds like he’s about ready to cry, imagining all the copper blocks sacrificed to make what is admittedly a very large amount of copper trapdoors. Chat is worried because they can’t hear Skizz, but Skizz is not talking and there’s nothing Gem can do about that. ((Skizz addressed this in his own stream later, saying he was mostly quiet during the base tour because he likes watching other people interact. He does the same thing at parties.))

40:30 Gem loves all the nooks and crannies in False’s base. False intends to add more paths and bridges, and that she hopes people will be able to get lost in her base. Joel says a lot of bases are like that this season, especially Ren’s once he expands that honey river (hint, hint.) False tells him to wait til he sees the new river she is going to install there. Chat is still hung up on the fact that Skizz’s voice chat icon keeps lighting up when he is not talking, and they are not taking “noise gate issue” for an answer. Gem begins punching him to try and get a verbal reaction from him. He fast-crouches at her instead, which is unhelpful. She asks him flat-out if he is talking and he says no, he’s just listening. Chat is appeased, for now.

42:10 Cleo’s base is next on the tour. Before they go, Xisuma asks Joe if today’s date for the tour is significant in any way, like the server being however many months old or something. Joe says no, it’s just a summer kickoff base tour to see progress. Watchers who have been busy with school exams or joining up for summer can see what’s going on. Cleo once again starts their tour on a bridge, but unlike Ren’s toxic air or False’s severed head, this one’s got a gun! The hermits want to know why Cleo’s got a gun, but Cleo says it’s very important to be prepared. The Hermits declare Cleo to be a doomsday prepper. Cleo leads the way down into their mine, a place Doc obviously associates with unpleasant memories. ((Doc and Cleo are embroiled in a court case over an incident where Doc killed Cleo’s special pig down in this mine.))

44:00 Xisuma asks if they’ve gone past the part where the big hole was. The group arrives at the big hole. Gem immediately punches Cleo into the big hole. Why is Gem like this? No one knows. Joel asks Cleo why she has a big hole. Cleo begins “Well, Joel…” and is immediately shouted down by the other Hermits. Why are any of them like this? No one knows. Cleo says there will eventually be a monster down at the bottom of the hole, when Sodium pulls itself together and fixes its glass lighting bugs. The monster will have huge glowing eyes. Joel asks why the guns on the bridge are pointed at Iskall, rather than down this hole. “Wouldn’t you point a gun at Iskall?” Cleo asks reasonably. Gem agrees that Iskall does seem more dangerous. The others agree. Joel is new, he will learn. Xisuma asks Cleo if they didn’t build a huge monster at the bottom of a hole back in Season II. Cleo’s answer amounts to “what are you, a cop?” but basically there is no connection. Bdubs theorizes that it speaks to something psychological. Cleo admits that big holes are their brand and have been for the past thirteen years.

45:15 Cleo gives everyone permission to leave their hole. Joe is still flying with explosive rockets, which seems painful. Joel sets Gem on fire again but does put her out with a bucket of water. Cleo advises anyone staying behind to watch out for wardens. Ren likes the mineshaft. Joel compliments the length of the shaft, then takes refuge in context. Chat is not fooled, but they are amused. Cleo leads the way into the Engineer’s House which is the heart of their base at the moment. Gem loves Cleo’s corkboard-backed workbench a lot. Bdubs wants to see it real bad, but he is still stuck in the mine. Skizz wanders off into a protected area and is hauled back, but he’s not streaming so no one sees anything.

46:50 Joel notices Cleo’s shop trophies and is impressed and appalled that anyone has made 750 diamonds from their shops. Cleo tell him she has made 2272 diamonds from her shops. Cleo has the S-Tier Books permit and the surprise hit Hay Bales permit and has been doing extremely well for herself. Joel remarks that this is 27 times the amount he has made from his shops. False asks if this means they are getting paid to go on this tour. Cleo asks if she wants some pity diamonds because she will give her pity diamonds. False will always accept pity diamonds. Cleo shows off the storage area. Ren spends a lot of time in here, both because he likes the way running on copper grate floor sounds and also just to steal stuff. Cleo’s armor stand work and decoration in the engineer’s house is on-point, as always. The other Hermits are visibly and audibly mining the house for ideas.

49:00 Bdubs wants to ask a question. He wants to know if Cleo does kitbashing stuff at home. Cleo does not know what kitbashing is, but agrees that it sounds right once it is explained. They lead the way to the wizard’s tower, where a demon may or may not be being summoned. Being Hermits, Gem and the others are unable to resist the lure of trapdoor floors and get stuck in the crawlspace for a moment, but are quickly distracted by the very unearthly-looking creature Cleo has put together in the demon-summoning circle. It is mostly made of skulk, with large flint-and-steel claws, and has a skulk sensor for a mouth. The skulk sensor’s fronds are still gently waving, which makes everything ten times more disturbing. The Hermits are full of delighted disgust for the creature and admiration for the twisted workings of Cleo’s mind. False is not visiting Cleo anymore. Someone asks what its name is, and a brief workshopping session yields “FredJeff.” Gem’s more reasonable suggestion of Jeffred is ignored. Everyone also likes the eyes and parts in jars on Cleo’s shelves. It’s really a very disturbing room. Skizz asks why the compass on the wall is going nuts (It is a recovery compass, labeled a “Magus Reality Compass”) and Cleo tells him it is a reality compass and reality is very thin here. Everyone mocks Skizz for not knowing what a magus reality compass is.

52:50 Gem sees people going onto the balcony and immediately punches Joel off it. They fight briefly and are distracted by the cake-juggling robot on Cleo’s roof. Joe injures himself with another explosive rocket. Gem runs back and forth along the rooflines until finally she sees someone standing close to an edge. She punches False off the roof and is momentarily satisfied. Ren is disturbed by a terrible noise, it is Joe drinking honey because flying with exploding rockets and recovering by drinking honey is all part of the Joe Hills Difference. Joe does specify that he bought the honey from Keralis, probably just to rub it in for Honey-Block Joel.

54:40 Skizz’s base is the next spot on the tour, so the group heads off to his ominous partial-pyramid and mouth-shaped base. Someone notes that it’s Pearl’s birthday. Ren asks if it wasn’t Pearl’s birthday yesterday? Gem explains that both things are true because Time Zones. The group agrees that if Pearl joins the group, they must sing to her. Joe immediately invites her to join the voice group. Pearl messages back that her inventory was a mess, but she is heading over. Skizz lands the grounp in his front yard and explains, somewhat wearily, that it has become a whole thing for him that he saves any gift he is given, including bizarre lawn art. He also has a wall of presents in item frames inside his base. Impulse gave him poop to put on the wall. Chat jokes that Gem is trying not to fangirl over the Eefo (Skizz’s guess-the-build Etho) statue on the lawn.

55:45 Most of Skizz’s efforts so far have been on the pyramid, trying to make a near-impossible maze to challenge their ability to survive. He invites anybody who wants to to strip naked and try to survive. Joel is interested, but intimdated. Skizz says he’s very forward on his dates. Chat has seen Pearl join the voice chat and is very excited to wish her happy birthday again. The other Hermits encourage Joel to strip down and get on with it. Joel asks if he’s going to die, Skizz tells him “Most definitely.” That’s okay, Cleo brought a bed along.

56:30 The next section of the tour is a radio play, with Gem wandering through the exterior of the maze and listening as Joel and Ren try to navigate the dangerous maze. Ren dies almost immediately. Joel lasts a bit longer, but they both die to the magma blocks. False didn’t enter the maze but still somehow falls in a hole and gets stuck. With both contestants dead, Skizz explains a little bit of the maze, how this layer is just about physical survival and getting to the next level. Gem finds Pearl and, of course, punches her. Everyone wishes Pearl Happy Birthday. There is a truly horrifying rendition of the birthday song from all the assembled Hermits as Pearl dodges more punches and probably reevaluates some life choices. Chat is amused and horrified all at once. Pearl gamely declares it beautiful.

59:50 Because it is her birthday, Pearl decides that the next activity is hitting the fish block. The other hermits join in except for Gem, who prefers to punch Pearl some more. Joel punches Gem and tells her that it’s Pearl’s birthday, let her slap the salmon. Gem thinks it sounds weird when you say it like that. Bdubs tells Skizz he should call the pyramid Decked Out 3. Everyone laughs as Skizz vehemently says he would never do that. He asks Pearl if everyone has seen Wordle. Joe points out that Pearl might well be the next stop on the server tour! Pearl demurs, saying she’s just waking up, and Bdubs tells her it’s her birthday so she doesn’t have to do a tour if she doesn’t want to. Gem sneaks away from the group and posts a sign saying “dECKED OUT 3” over the door to the pyramid.

1:00:40 Cleo points out that what Pearl seems to want to do is jump into fire and berry bushes, based on her current behavior. If no Pearl tour that means Gem is next, being Skizz’s next-door neighbor and all. ((It is not entirely clear whether Skizz started talking Wordle to avoid having to show off his massive and embarrassing chest monster next, but nonetheless it worked really well.)) Gem is glad to do her base tour before Joel’s. Joel asks why but she doesn’t want to have to pay him a compliment out loud so just says her base isn’t quite finished. She leads the group into the Collector’s House and talks about how her base is inspired by the video game Dredge.

1:01:20 Gem shows off her fighting arena, but admits she hasn’t fought anyone in awhile. Joel asks if she wants to fight and she says no. This is clearly a lie since at one hour into this stream her Hermits Punched count stands at 13, mostly Joel. “She’s hungry,” Pearl observes. “Back out,” Bdubs advises. The other Hermits back up rapidly into the viewing area, leaving Gem alone in the middle of the arena, laughing. False notices that Ren has not left the sands and is in fact standing there with no armor. “Ren’s volunteered!” she observes. Ren agrees, saying that he will fight Gem, but the weapon of choice will be fish. Gem is unsure about all this, but agrees to fight so long as Ren gets her a fish too. He dives into the water, presumably to collect some fish. Gem sets her spawn.

1:02:00 Ren comes back with fish and sets his spawn as well. Skizz asks if this is going to be a thirty minute battle, then? Joel insists Gem remove her armor. Armed with raw salmon, Gem and Ren engage in a fish-slap battle to the death, witnessed by a third of the server. Gem starts very strong but her usual tactics don’t work too well in a fight without critical hits or weapon damage and Ren defeats her after a protracted battle. It’s an upset, Chat and the watching Hermits are all stunned. Ren admits that the whole thing was a Mission Possible quest. He needed to fish slap someone to death. Ren offers to let Gem kill him and she does not hesitate to do so, plunking his head-trophy down onto the sand.

1:03:40 Gem decides it is time to move on with the tour. Chat is teasing her about being as washed up as Etho, but they are also pleased to have acquired a rare Gigacorp Ren head for the collection. She shows off the anglerfish-shaped fish market and the horsin’ tunnel. False and Cleo have a low-voiced conversation in the background over whether a fixture in the shop is a toilet or just a box. Gem admits she doesn’t have many of the spooky organic elements added to her build yet, those will come later, but Chat wants her to show off her pineapple farm. She leads the way to her decorative patch of “pineapples” that are all Tango heads with armor-stand ferns on them. The Hermits are impressed and creeped out. Bdubs admits he didn’t know pineapples grew out of the ground. Gem shows the group down to her storage room, then shows off her power lines. Pearl plays the “That’s amazing!” horn. Gem demands she put it away, Pearl absolutely refuses.

1:06:00 Gem shows off her new mangrove trees, along the path that will one day lead towards Etho’s base. She explains the strange red rune that will one day play a creepy heartbeat when approached (and explains that this is also not Decked Out 3), and then it is time to go see Joel’s base. Joel’s base is extremely impressive from the sky and the Hermits are exclaiming over it before they even land. Skizz mutters that it feels just great living right next to him. Joel has somehow never noticed the sign left over from the Permit Trials on the chest of his Joel statue, but he sees it now.

1:07:00 Joel stands under his front gate and welcomes everyone to his Japanese cyberpunk-inspired base. He’s terraformed “a bit” of the mountain to make it look better. The first thing everyone needs to see is definitely his little shrine to the Ocean Goddess and her consort, which is of course a statue of Ocean Queen Lizzie and King Joel of Mezalea from Season One of the Empires SMP. Joel’s internet is terrible but his armor stand work is excellent and the statue is quite impressive. Cleo tells him the statue is very cute, and he agrees and says it is because he is adorable. He leads the way up into the city, where a beautiful facade conceals a very utilitarian villager breeder. Gem begins flipping trapdoors. Joel’s city aesthetic is cute little buildings separated by very narrow alleys, so the place is soon full of disoriented Hermits wandering around and trying to find the group. Joel shows off highlights like his mailbox and a fishtank that doesn’t have any fish in it yet. In a little restaurant off the beaten path, Bdubs finds a horse head and gets very upset about Joel’s continuing history of horse murder. Joel says it wasn’t him.

1:10:00 Xisuma asks how many rooms are in this build, Joel can’t even begin to guess. He says probably quite a lot, which seems accurate. Ren wonders, of all the blocks in Minecraft, how many of them have already been incorporated into this city. Joel says he’s trying to use as many as possible to add color and life to the city. He shows off his axolotl tank and the office where he grows his glowberries. He tells the group that, for the benefit of whoever bought out all his glowberry stock, there is more available now. Skizz cheerfully admits he did it for a Mission Possible. Joel thinks that’s a great mission and tells him he should do it again. He has a squid tank and a cactus farm and a tiny little storage room that he is already outgrowing. Pearl doesn’t understand how he can stay organized in such a small storage room. Gem theorizes that he uses every block he acquires so he doesn’t have to store it. Joel admits that there are blocks stored everywhere in random decorative barrels, completely disorganized. Pearl groans in disappointment. Ren and Skizz have found the jacuzzi bath and jumped in for a soak, which is entirely against base tour etiquette. Joel tells them that the water in that tub hasn’t been changed since episode 3, so maybe they shouldn’t be bathing in it at this point.

1:12:00 Ren tries to eat a carrot and accidentally steals a plant from a pot. False yells at him about it. Gem flips a bunch more trapdoors, apparently because she likes the noise. Someone pushes a button and activates the doorbell that Cub made for Joel. Joel shows the way to his honey farm, musing aloud about how awesome honey is and how great it would be if the Hermits decided to buy a lot of it. Ren asks how Joel manages inventory without losing his mind, given his massive build palette. Joel cheerfully admits he loses his mind. Gem confirms this by finding the walls covered in signs reading “BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ.” Bdubs says it’s like A Beautiful Mind. Joel hates the bees, they are annoying, they produce honey and it doesn’t sell. More Hermits should buy honey. “Good job making a sucky product!” Bdubs tells him (or possibly the bees, it’s hard to say.) Chat points out that Xisuma has taken off the wolf mask and is now wearing Gem’s head.

1:13:30 Joel shows off a few more buildings, all of them empty, and admits that’s basically it. He is roundly mocked for that phrasing after showing off his massive and intricate build. He remembers one more thing he wants to show off and leads everyone to the bar. Bdubs asks if there are more horse heads down there and Joel says definitely not. The Hermits are very impressed by the bar, which includes lava walls covered by trapdoors that create glowing designs. Bdubs finds a horse head and starts yelling again. Joel says that’s not his. Pearl points out that Bdubs has murdered plenty of horses this season and Bdubs claims he would never murder a horse. Pearl demands to see his statistics. He says his are broken. Everyone agrees that the build is amazing. Pearl is glad Joel used purpur. Bdubs and Ren ask about the beacon beam, which is candy striped; Joel came up with the idea himself and it is made of stained glass.

1:16:10 It’s Pearl’s time to shine! Joel wants to get a look at Wordle. Pearl points out it’s not at her base, but they can visit it after. She leads the way to her base and starts everyone at her little truck, explaining the lore of her solarpunk base for the season. This truck in particular crafts a button every day and every night, letting her know how long her chunks have been loaded. Etho signs on. Chat is _very_ excited. Pearl leads the way over to her enchanting area while Gem hisses to Chat to stop being such fangirls. Chat will never stop. Pearl shows off the maps on the walls, Ren points out that the maps are not accurate to current time. Pearl explains that they are to show off the history of the neighborhood as it gets built up, and the other Hermits roundly heckle him for not getting that. Bdubs tells him to “Go back to your sulfur mines, you freak,” then apologizes for going too far. Pearl is stunned that everyone used her doors correctly for the first time. Abashed, Gem goes back and flips all the trapdoors.

1:18:30 Pearl shows off her farming, complete with solar-powered irrigation system. Nighttime is coming, so Bdubs deploys his bed, only to have Pearl mine it out from under him. He graciously forgives her because it’s her birthday, but someone else picked up his bed and he needs it back. Ren deploys the bed and sleeps on it, stealing the night while Bdubs sputters. Pearl next takes the group to her starter base and its horrifying doorbell. Pearl has been doing some armor stand work in here and is happy to show off to Cleo, who declares it adorable and cute. Pearl leads the way down to her storage room and its pillager-head-on-a-noteblock that quickly overwhelms everyone’s audio. Etho has joined up with the tour now and Chat is begging Gem to punch him. They believe he came late to avoid obsession allegations at Gem and Joel’s bases.

1:20:30 Cleo tells Pearl she’s going to steal the idea of leather helmets for stools because it is so good. Pearl shows the group her bedroom and Gem attacks the many available trapdoors. Bdubs likes the scale Pearl is using, with three block ceilings that make a more naturalistic environment for people used to nine foot ceilings IRL. Cleo agrees they would like it if there were less of them in there, because having so many Hermits in one bedroom is definitely turning the vibe from coziness to claustrophobia. Pearl shows off her stables and mailbox and some more farming stuff, Gem flips more trapdoors. Pearl acknowledges that she sees what Gem is doing. Pearl is building a solarium for her sniffers and allay, then takes everyone to the purpur farm. It’s very cool-looking and everyone is impressed. Pearl insists on stopping in the middle of the tour so she can collect up the arrows and replant the farm. Bdubs says that is very rude and Joe scolds him for it because it is Pearl’s birthday. Bdubs reluctantly agrees.

1:24:50 Pearl shows the furnace array/bamboo farm Tango helped her build. She points out that her farm makes bamboo planks to put in the furnaces, so she still buys her bamboo from Bdubs. Bdubs is quite pleased about this, but Etho scoffs and says that’s much too expensive, she might as well be burning her diamonds. Pearl also shows off her casual-flex chandeliers, which are made of beacons she bought at Ren’s shop. Etho asks if there is a discount for beacons bought solely for lighting, Ren says there is not. Doc, who has so many diamonds this season that he is using them for redstone building blocks, mocks Etho for being a cheapskate. Gem asks Pearl to show off the pickles in the trees and advertise her shops too. Pearl is pleased to show off her pickle-festooned trees. She has six or seven stacks of pickles spread through her trees for lighting purposes. Joe asks what the white rocket-shaped things are, Pearl explains they are wind generators for a solarpunk world. She also has a copper and cherry watermill generating more imaginary power. Bdubs mentions how much he likes the “apple trees”, custom trees built with berry bushes in them to simulate fruit trees. Joel mentions there are a ton of beacons in this base, and Ren must be really rich. Cleo laughs and suggests maybe Ren should buy honey. Joe says he also buys a ton of beacons, so Ren must be doing really well. Ren thanks him for his patronage but is noncommittal about buying honey.

1:29:30 The Hermits debate who to visit next. Etho is the closest, Gem celebrates this fact by punching him. Etho suggests Tango, but Tango is not participating in the server tour. Etho protests that he shouldn’t be asked to follow Pearl’s beautiful base. Nevertheless, he is next (Wordle has apparently been forgotten for the moment) and he insists everyone must walk up the path to his base instead of flying. He needs to stretch this out as much as he can because there’s not that much to look at. In that spirit, he narrates the whole walk along the path, including the broken guardian farm, the sheep farm, the trident farm, and a nice view of Pearl’s base. He asks Gem to demonstrate the trident farm. She does so, impressing the assembled Hermits who have no idea how Etho isolated trident drowned. Joel nearly dies to the farm while Gem harvests two tridents in less than a minute. Etho offers to show everyone how it actually works, but that’s a lot of hermits to stuff into the redstone of a farm. They move on instead.

1:31:50 Etho leads the way to the main house as Gem cheerfully asks him if he’s put the roof on yet. Cleo can see the sky through the windows, so probably not. Etho admits that the roof is not quite exactly finished yet. He disappears into the house, leaving the Hermits outside. Doc asks if he’s quickly building a roof before he lets everyone in. Cleo and Gem both admire the exterior decorations, full of pink glazed terracotta and potted plants. Gem tells him he’s so cottagecore and it’s really nice. Etho lets them into the house, still roofless. Cleo asks what all the books on the chiseled bookshelves are. He explains that he keeps every book he gets and puts them on the bookshelves. Gem flips a lot of trapdoors and finds a fox named Sly in the back garden. Etho shows off his high-tech storage system, which is wired to show more or fewer bookshelves based on what enchanting level is wanted. Pearl correctly susses out how the redstone is done and is congratulated by Cleo for being officially a redstoner.

1:33:53 Etho leads the way down into his storage system, which is accessed by a drop chute elevator built into the grassy ground. Bdubs says that Joel will be very pleased by the décor, which is chock full of honey blocks, but Joel bitterly complains that Etho didn’t actually buy any from his store. Etho protests that Joel _gave_ him those honey blocks, sent them to him in the mail and everything. Joel reluctantly admits he did do that, yes. It’s more than he sent, though. Etho quietly admits that he does have a honey farm. Pearl comments that Etho’s ceiling has a lot of items in it and he says yes, it’s part of his storage system. He pauses for a moment, obviously trying to decide if there is any way to explain even the basics of his complex but understated storage system to the assembled group, then tell them that it’s too much to explain right now. “Too complicated for us simple-minded people,” Joel translates. “Too complicated for a tour,” Etho offers diplomatically. He shows his dispensing stations for common items like rockets, then leads the way down a plain stone tunnel to his moss farm. The drop is a little more extreme than advertised and Ren dies from the fall. Fs in the chat for Ren. Ren asks “Why me” and is reminded that he’s not wearing armor and thus lacking useful thinks like feather falling.

1:35:40 Etho’s moss farm is a big operation. Bdubs insists they should all go down into the farm, it’s cool down in there. Bdubs is clearly missing his moss shop this season. Gem gets a quick look at the farm before going back to the viewing platform to help Joel collect Ren’s bits and pieces. Pearl complains that huge farms like this are the reason she is not selling any bone blocks or bonemeal this season. Etho asks Gem if she wants to see how fast he can get moss with this farm. She says no because it’ll just make her mad. Joe eagerly chimes in that he wants to see Gem get mad. Etho shows Gem where to stand to catch moss from the farm and pulls the lever to convert away from bonemeal collection. In less than a minute, Gem’s inventory has more than ten stacks of moss in it. She mutters “Oh my god” a bunch of times in despairing disbelief. Cleo tells her it’s okay to cry. Gem’s pockets overflow and she starts yelling at Etho to turn it off. She has two moss farms and neither of them work anything like this. Etho generously asks if anyone else needs moss, Gem yells that nobody needs his moss! Chat is fangirling hard again, as per usual. Several Hermits ignore Gem’s warning and go for the moss; she sets them on fire with her sword. Joe dies of it, though it is not clear whether he was actually trying to get moss or just an unfortunate bystander to a sweeping edge sword.

1:38:00 Joe respawns, apologizing for the mess and explaining that somebody stabbed him to death. Gem defends herself saying she said she would get mad. Joe sighs and agrees that was probably on him, Cleo protests that moss-collecting is not an appropriate motive for murder. Gem is glad that Joe is taking responsibility for his actions. Joe points out that he is the one who said he wanted to see Gem get mad. He got to see with more than his eyes, he saw with his own burning flesh and that’s on him. Chat feels sorry for Joe. Ren is trying to collect his lost bits and pieces, he collects a sword called “Friendship Blade” that is not his. Joe confirms that is his sword, a gift from Cleo. Cleo remembers giving Joe that blade because he was fighting monsters with an iron sword inappropriately late into the season, she is surprised he still carries it. Bdubs, Joe and Doc remain in the list of bases to tour. Joe arrives and collects his own scattered items.

1:40:00 Leaving the moss farm is almost as dangerous as entering it, since the only way in is “Rocket onto a ladder.” The Hermits manage the feat one by one and land on the grass outside. Gem asks Etho to work on that. Cleo asks what is wrong with him. Etho smugly claims that the best thing about his base is that it teaches one how to play Minecraft. Cleo insists that she doesn’t need to learn Minecraft, she does it professionally already. Etho suggests that if someone is unable to get up the ladder, it may be a skill issue. Cleo wants Etho to know that she hates him. Chat loves sassy Etho. The group heads for Bdubs’ base, aiming to land in front of the forest. While they go, they complain about the price of ender chests and everything in the shopping district. Everything is so expensive this season. Gem insists that pickles are cheap. It is unclear why Gem is shilling pickles so hard when she hates Pearl buying them so much. Joe still can’t find his pants. Gem approaches Bdubs’ forest and exclaims over how beautiful it is. She is not wrong.

1:41:40 The group lands in front of the bridge onto Bdubs’ base. Ren asks if they need to change render distances or other visual effects since Bdubs’ base, more than any other Hermit’s, is designed as a visual spectacle. Bdubs recommends setting render distance to 28, so it’s a good thing there are some powerful computers at work here. Brightness also needs to be down to get the real atmosphere. Bdubs leads the way into the forest as he explains he’s trying to focus on terraforming and atmosphere rather than only on buildings this season. Gem coos over a rustic picnic table made of trapdoors. Pearl plays the “That’s amazing!” horn. Gem punches her several times. Xisuma laughs over the fact that Bdubs’ trees are massive, bespoke pieces of art and the Hermits are still drawn to the picnic table first. Gem is so impressed by the picnic table that she doesn’t even flip the trapdoors.

1:43:00 The tour continues into an open space that Bdubs plans to fill with additional forest eventually. Gem tells Bdubs it’s very cottagecore, Bdubs decides he will allow it. He was fighting it at first, but finally he’s accepted it. Joe points out that the actual cottage he built pretty much sealed the deal. He takes the Hermits to his initial starter base, which he only uses for cooking anymore. Cleo finds a memorial marked February 16 and asks what that’s about; it is the date of Bdubs’ Demise death. He says “they” exploded him, Ren corrects him saying “technically you exploded you.” Bdubs has to admit that this is true. He shows the group the silos with his moss farm and bamboo farms. Doc asks if there’s a reason that Bdubs has the most uncomfortable pathways known to Minecraft. (Bdubs’ current paths are rudimentary at best, scattered path blocks and no slabs to soften height changes.) Cleo says it’s obviously for the aesthetics, Bdubs agrees it’s all form, no function. Everyone takes a quick look at the redstone farm inside the silo and then goes back outside to debate the aesthetics involved in putting wood blocks or dirt blocks under wooden path slabs. Gem says she gets yelled at for her slabs all the time, both in the comments and from her own mod team. The mods give themselves mod hearts in the chat.

1:45:40 Bdubs takes everyone into the silo and shows off his bamboo-item-creating machine. It is a structure made entirely of Bdubs’ Perfect Redstone, so while it does work as intended, it has no labels and is somewhat difficult to understand. The cottagecore cottage is actually Bdubs’ mailbox, and Gem declares it gorgeous. The terracotta production area is up next, immediately drawing a “Booooooo” from False and heckling from the others. ((Bdubs holds the plain terracotta permit and is part of the Short-T Alliance, working with Scar and his six terracotta permits to undermine and counter the activities of “Big T,” the Hermit consortium who control the other nine terracotta permits. False, Ren, Cleo and Xisuma are all members of Big T.)) Bdubs tells them to shut up and shows off his organic terracotta production facility where he turns dirt into mud and then dries it on dripstone into clay, then smelts it into terracotta. Even his enemies are impressed by the sheer amount of effort Bdubs is putting int when he could just be digging up terracotta. He explains that his autosmelter is powered by half-slabs generated by his bamboo farm. It’s very inefficient and he does not recommend it. The same could undoubtedly be said of the whole operation, but everyone is too polite to mention that.

1:48:50 Bdubs decides that’s everything he has available to show right now. Cleo loves how everyone is ending their tour with “And that’s just it, I guess!” Xisuma is impressed about the difference in tone and texture keeping brightness at 30 causes. He feels like he’s been missing out and wants to look at other builds in the dimness now. Etho says his build is five times bigger when viewed at brightness 30. Gem asks if it gets a roof as well. He says yes. Chat is going nuts because Bdubs didn’t show everyone his waterfall. Xisuma asks if keeping brightness at 30 makes caving difficult. Bdubs says no, because he doesn’t do that sort of scary thing. Gem gives in to the overwhelming will of Chat and asks Bdubs “Where’s your waterfall?” Bdubs leads the group back to the bridge while explaining about the glass waterfall he built while testing whether it was possible to simulate water textures without water. This waterfall is not meant to be viewed close up and should be looked at from the bridge. Doc, who is already standing on the bridge, claims to be the only Hermit who watches other peoples’ videos. The waterfall really is very striking when viewed from the bridge. The Hermits are very impressed. Chat is pleased. Etho hypes Bdubs up a bit by pointing out that the grass in the forest is not bonemealed, it was harvested and hand-placed by Bdubs while he was building. Cleo says yeah, but that’s because Bdubs is a nerd. Bdubs makes fun of the way Cleo pronounces “nerd” but does not deny it.

1:51:00 Now that Chat has seen the waterfall, the group is free to fly up and over the forest towards Joe’s base. Joe is easy to follow because he is still flying with exploding fireworks and has a big green eruption behind him every few seconds. He does have his blast protection pants back (Cleo had them) so he can survive the flight. They pass Mumbo’s witch farm on the right (or starboard, Joe adds, for people like Gem and Joel who prefer flying spacecraft) and begin to approach the base. It’s spawning in slowly for Gem, but it is clearly massive. Joe explains that what he is building is a 1:1 scale recreation of the Bell Laboratories Research and Development campus in Holmdell, New Jersey. As Joe explains some of the technical specifications of his very specific building plans, Gem and the other Hermits fly around and take in the enormous scope of the area Joe has dug out and is terraforming. Gem apologizes to chat for the Bobby Mod taking its sweet time; she has not been out to Joe’s base in quite awhile and it is very different now. Joe has a lot of beacons up (he tells Ren he’s welcome for the business) and has mined up over a million stone blocks to turn what was once a mountain range into a canvas for development. He has been learning a lot about geometry and also a lot about reading out loud, since he’s been reading Moby Dick on stream for the benefit of his chat while mining on stream most nights. Gem’s chat is impressed by the massive scope of the project unfolding. Joe explains that he doesn’t have any proper buildings yet, and for the moment his storage system consists of themed groupings of chests set up around each beacon. It is easy to find each beacon when he needs something, so long as he can remember what stuff is stored where. Gem lands for a moment and gets punched by Pearl. She punches Pearl back and they both start flying again.

1:52:50 Joe explains that his build is not nearly as detailed as many of the other Hermits’ builds, but it is very large and he hopes it will be useful as a canvas for other Hermits as well as himself. He’s noticed in previous seasons that as the season goes on and Hermits get locked into their base projects, there is less room for creative projects that do not fit within the scope of whatever they have decided to build. The Holmdell campus has plenty of room for Hermit projects of all different types and sizes. Cub has already marked out a place for a labyrinth that he’ll be starting work on soon. Joe also wants to hold workshops where Hermits can teach one another specific skills like creating vehicles or building facade techniques. He suggests that maybe Cleo will teach armor stand classes because she keeps saying she wants people not to have her build every armor stand on the server. Cleo points out that a lot of Hermits are already doing much better on that front this season. Joe agrees with that and says he is hoping his base area will be a community center in the mid to late season. Chat is very on board with Joe’s ideas and wants to subscribe to his newsletter.

1:55:20 By the end of Joe’s speech, most of the Hermits have settled onto various perches near one another, twenty or thirty blocks off the ground. Etho asks Joe if he regrets doing this project in a mountain biome, now that he’s dug it out. Joe says no, but only because he’s decided to not have regrets. Cleo cackles. Joe explains that this region was the closest area to spawn he could get at the size that he needed, and he will just continue doubling down on that decision until he has octupled down on it. Etho notices the froglights and says they look absolutely incredible. People should not be sleeping on froglights. (Etho, of course, holds the froglight permit.) Joel chimes in saying that all the water around here might turn into ice, but you know what doesn’t turn into ice? Honey. Joe agrees and says he surrounded the entire central lagoon with stairs so that it won’t freeze. Etho is impressed. Gem bets some pickles in there would help. Joe says he was kind of hoping a few Hermits might volunteer to do some terraforming around the lagoon, and that rather than being entirely an area for people to do solo projects, people might have fun working in groups or doing terraforming and landscape lessons. Etho listens patiently to all this and then asks “So you’re telling me that if I put a single block in this lagoon, the whole thing will turn to ice?”

1:57:00 Joe confirms that this is true, leading to laughter and calls for the pranking to begin. Joe goes on to point out that even removing or changing one of the source blocks in the lagoon could trigger an icecapade. Chat is terrified at all the potential here. “And you really don’t regret building here?” Gem asks again. Joe is cool with it. He’s living his best life out here, it’s just that his best life looks terrifying to a lot of people. Bdubs asked if Joe knew already that stairs would stop the freezing, or if he had to do the science on that. It seems like very obscure knowledge. Joe describes the rather arduous-sounding process of figuring out how to ice proof a lake, and is interrupted by Cleo asking if they put a block into the lake, how would the ice actually generate? Joe, in true best-life-Joe-Hills fashion, offers to show everyone how it looks. He and Etho both place blocks into the lagoon. Cleo is clearly very disappointed that the ice doesn’t appear and spread instantly, instead generating slowly from the place where the source blocks were disrupted. But eventually, if the blocks are left in place, the whole surface will freeze. Joe tells everyone that he hopes to have the campus open in a month or so, then admits he’s been saying that for the last couple of months. He justifies himself by pointing at a cluster of pumpkins floating high overhead and explaining those are where the surface of the mountain used to be. He’s had a lot to do.

1:59:40 Joe is finished with his tour, so he goes to pass the reins over to Doc. Bdubs interrupts by mentioning a visual glitch he is seeing where things far away are rendering strangely. Xisuma immediately wants to know more. Other Hermits report seeing the same thing, but Gem does not see it with her particular mod combination. As the sun sets, Joe invites the Hermits to take a look at the base from the sky, with the froglights illuminating all the roads. It’s a beautiful sight, looking a little bit like an airport at night and going a long way to highlight what an enormous project this is and just how much work Joe has been doing. Joe is also lucky that Etho has the froglight and stone permits, and has traded massive amounts of froglights for Joe’s massive amounts of stone.

2:02:00 The group head for Joe’s portal to make the long trek to Doc’s base. Joel mentions that the brightness of the froglights looks so much better at lower brightness and that he needs to start keeping his own brightness down. Bdubs agrees, but warns that his own brightness level is the result of years worth of acclimating his viewers to accept the dimness. Last season he was only at 50%, this season he has gone full mood lighting. Joel says he’s just going straight in, cold turkey. Gem points out that Joel does not have a history of being particularly nice to his chat, if one has watched his intros. It takes awhile to get everyone through the portal, due to too much pushing and shoving, but eventually they all make it through and follow Doc north through the nether. They arrive at Doc’s portal, which is surrounded by ominous-looking machines. “Why do I feel like you have a plan for vengeance right now?” Bdubs asks plaintively.

2:03:00 Doc insists her is not planning anything, this is just a bunch of random machines. Here is the honey farm, here is the cannon that shoots people to the world border, here is the warden transport system, etc. The other Hermits are giving the machines a very respectful distance. Doc’s portal is literally on fire so there is less pushy-shovey on this trip through. They emerge in the main area of Doc’s “home,” an open cobblestone platform high above a swamp biome. Xisuma warns everyone to watch their step. Gem immediately attempts to punch Joel off the platform. He punches her off the platform instead. She and the other Hermits begin flying around to investigate the area as Doc explains what is a massive cluster of superpowered farms and indecipherable redstone. He shows off his massive storage system, making Joe laugh at the idea that people need bulk piston storage for their five shulkers of pistons. Granted, given the farms around here, five shulkers of pistons seems like it might be an average afternoon out here in the swamp. Below the storage area is a supersmelter with 160 furnaces, and next to it is an autocrafter system designed to mimic a crafting table on an enormous scale and that will craft any item the user desires. The Hermits think this is very neat. Etho remembers that Doc did something similar to this in Sesaon 9, but Doc explains that having autocrafters in the game has made the whole business a whole lot easier.

2:05:30 Doc says that’s pretty much it as far as his base goes. It’s clear that his base is very large and incredibly complex, and that there’s enough to keep a tour busy for days, if only that tour group was made up entirely of high level redstoners who know better than to stick their fingers into every chest and punch one another into the complex machinery. Bdubs asks for a demonstration of Doc’s dark oak farm, which produces truly insane amounts of output when it’s up and running. Doc says sure and leads the way over to the massive redstone contraption that is his wood farm. Gem asks if there’s anything they shouldn’t touch. Cleo and False immediately and simultaneously say “everything.” Doc tells them to stand out of the way and don’t touch any levers, and that this machine will do 160k saplings per hour. He explains that there is a llama that is a critical part of the infrastructure that will allow him to place the saplings properly. Etho warns everyone not to place anything accidentally into the huge stacks of clay pots running along the sides of the farm. The Hermits are clearly intimidated but fascinated. Gem is happy to know that the farm is llama powered. Doc turns on the farm and TNT starts exploding. Dark oak is being created and pulverized at a phenomenal pace. Chat is awed.

2:08:00 Gem goes down to the staging area briefly, looks at the lever, then runs back to the safety of the upper platform. Doc is explaining that he hasn’t started any non-machine building yet, but that he does intend to eventually terraform this whole area, make a real exploding volcano, etc. There’s plenty of stuff to do, he just started with the machines. Etho asks how far Doc has gotten with actually doing the item filters in his storage room, the most tedious part of the process. Doc says he is about 80% through with it. It’s a multi-filter system, so while it will handle all the items in the game, some items will be filtered in groups and some with their own filters. And that is all there is, Doc tells them, they can all go home now. “Get out of here before you break something,” Gem translates easily. Everyone agrees that Doc’s redstone work is incredibly impressive. Chat doesn’t even understand what they’re seeing but they know it’s a lot. Ren says it’s like looking into the heart of a CPU. Made of diamond ore, Joel adds.

2:09:10 Doc shows them the way back to the portal and into the nether. Gem punches Joel in the back and then runs away when he chases her, insisting desperately “It was Cleo, it was Cleo, it was Cleo!” The Hermits do a short debriefing and decide when they should do another server tour. Joe thinks that 2-3 server tours per year would be good, let people see new stuff without the tour idea getting stale. While they talk, Gem runs around on the nether roof until Joel successfully potshots her for half her hearts. He gives her a distinctly “come at me” fast-crouch until she runs at him, then he punches her. They punch each other, then disengage as everyone heads back for the nether hub. As they fly they pass over Joe’s 1/8th scale map of his actual base, and even that is large enough that it took seventeen hours to place all the blocks on the nether roof. It’s a big base.

2:11:10 Gem and the others take the portal back to the shopping district. Joel suggests that this would be a perfect time for everyone to go buy some honey. Cleo asks how much honey he would need to sell in order to stop complaining about it. Joel says he wants to hit 100 diamonds in sales. The others are incredulous that he hasn’t even hit a hundred diamonds yet, which probably just makes it worse. Etho comments that’s a tall order for a smallish bean. “You just got called short by Etho,” Gem tells him. Doc says his armor trim shop should be open in the next week or so. Joel says everyone knows Etho is tiny. Joe remembers that Cleo promised everyone pity diamonds to buy honey with if they behaved themselves on the tour. Cleo confirms that pity diamonds are indeed on the table. “Sugar Daddy Cleo!” Gem cheers. She goes into the shop and finds the music button, then asks Joel if it works. He says it does but asks her to please not play it because it can’t be stopped. She protests that she hasn’t even heard it yet. She pushes the button and begins shrieking with laughter over the honey song. Chat is jamming along.

2:12:20 Cleo has 100 diamonds to pass out so that the Hermits can buy honey and make Joel stop whining. Gem gets enough to buy four stacks of honey that she will now need to figure out a use for. Doc asks if Joel is ever going to detail the back of this shop so it’s not just a brown cylinder on the side that faces the hourglass. Joel says he could, but he’s very poor and very busy just trying to make sales right now. Xisuma and False barely got any diamonds, Cleo does not know who took most of the diamonds and does not particularly care. Joe got 43 diamonds and passes a few out to the others. Bdubs suggests that some of these diamonds could also be used to purchase terracotta! Doc needs to get going, so they decide to head back to the new lava pool to end the tour.

2:14:00 The Hermits fly back to spawn, explaining the lava pool to Etho, who was not around for that part. He asks if they went ahead and moved the world spawn. Bdubs asks if anybody wants to sue anybody real quick while they’re all here. Ren asks about moving the world spawn and whether anyone would be cross if they moved it. Gem points out that this is a Hermitcraft Meeting topic and now they’re just streaming an actual meeting. A very confusing discussion ensues over where the spawn chunks actually are, where they will be after 1.21 drops, and whether they ought to be moved and why. Gem narrates for chat and says this is how an actual meeting always goes, with miscommunication being the first order of business. Apparently Xisuma believes the spawn chunks are not currently at 0,0, they are behind the courthouse where a bunch of farms are, but after 1.21 drops, they ought to be moved to an area just outside Ren’s base perimeter. Etho asks why, if spawn chunks are elsewhere, they always respawn by Hypno’s base when they die. Xisuma, obviously ready for an object lesson, tells him to take off his armor. Etho, resigned to being an object lesson, sets his spawn and breaks it, complaining all the while about how he’s going to have to hike back from Hypno’s house, which is about 40 blocks away.

2:16:00 While Etho is complaining and stripping down, Gem explains to Chat that this madness is how all of their meetings look and it’s a miracle they ever get anything done. Sometime during the process False gets bored of waiting and shoots Ren dead. As promised, Ren respawns next to the lava pool. Xisuma is obviously surprised by this. Bdubs is still calling for Etho’s head. Etho’s already naked and ready to go, so he suggests another test where they kill him in the hole. Chat is uncertain about this phrasing but False is more than happy to commit another murder act. Etho did not empty his inventory so his belongings fly everywhere, but Etho himself respawns next to the lava pool, same as Ren. Xisuma says he stands corrected, that the spawn chunks are indeed still at 0,0. Joel confirms that when one comes back through the nether portal for the first time or without a bed, they end up at the same place. The Hermits agree that this is why they never get anything done at meetings.

2:17:00 Xisuma circles back around to the original proposal: that when 1.20.6 comes out, to move the spawn chunks three chunks away from their current location to allow for development of the fairly prime real estate that the spawn chunks now occupy. Xisuma has a couple of proposals for locations but would like to hear from anyone else first. Nobody has any strong feelings and the general consensus is that Xisuma should put them where he wants. Pearl does suggest putting them near the post office, but it’s unclear if there’s any reason for that or if it’s the postal worker equivalent of “you should buy more honey.” Xisuma points out a small squarish island between his own base and Hypno’s and says that might be a decent space for the spawn chunks, or they could go the entire opposite direction and plunk it down in the middle of evveryone over in the direction of Magic Mountain. Space is very tight over that way though, so it might not be a net gain. Pearl reiterates the post office suggestion, in an empty area between the post office and Xisuma’s base. Everyone flies over for a look and Xisuma agrees it’s a great spot. Nobody else cares so long as the new spawn chunks contain a portal and an ender chest for all those wild nights when somebody inevitably winds up naked and wingless at spawn. Pearl offers to decorate it. Gem congratulates her for giving herself work on her birthday. Ren calls for a voice vote; the “yays” are unanimous and enthusiastic. Ren declares the order of business complete and Cleo adjourns the meeting. The Hermits’ grasp on Robert’s Rules of Order are about as complete as their grasp of jurisprudence, but the issue is solved and everyone is happy. Gem admits that they usually don’t even call for a voice vote and this was very official today. Chat is not sure that any Hermitcraft meeting is official without Impulse there to write things down, but mostly they are busy saying “yay.”

2:19:00 The normal procedure for reaching accord during meetings, Gem explains further, is that someone will ask a question, three people will say “yeah, I guess,” and everyone else has their mics muted because they are eating. Pearl is usually half asleep and trying her best, sometimes in bed and with the phone on speaker. The Hermits congratulate themselves on an excellent meeting and give themselves a round of applause. Chat has always wanted a streamed Hermitcraft meeting and now they have gotten one. Chat is pleased. Everyone wonders how they ever get anything done.

2:20:00 False suggests that they all go jump in on Impulse, since he’s online and not at the meeting. Impulse did not join the tour because he doesn’t want to spoil the huge minigame he’s currently working on. Xisuma moves the spawn chunks and tells Ren he’s free to use the old space now. Ren mutters darkly about how the sulfur will expand. Xisuma suggests a group photo. Etho is busy setting fires and Gem is punching Cleo, but everyone agrees a photo is a nice idea. They all gather together and gaze into the future, at the new spawn chunks. Joe demands to know how long he’s had a fish head on and why did nobody tell him. Cleo and Bdubs assure him he’s been wearing it the whole time. Screenshots are captured, Joel punches Gem again, and Bdubs laughs because his specially modded skin actually blinked during photo time. Everyone agrees that this was a good idea and they had fun on the tour. Now they are all going to go and look at their own bases at 30% brightness.

2:21:50 Gem says goodbye to everybody and heads back to her base, asking Chat how they liked that. Chat approves greatly, they had a great time. Gem will post the VOD soon. Gem’s base actually looks great at 30% brightness, this may be the vibe she goes for. It does make the palm trees a little dark. Gem promises she’s working on her next episode and that it will be full of new interiors. She’s going to bring lots of immersion into the base very soon. Everybody’s bases were so cool to see, and it was great to have a visit with so many Hermits! Gem has had a lot of IRL stuff, good and bad, going on lately, but she hopes things are evening out and she’ll be back to streaming soon. She thanks subs and donos as a group and decides to wrap things up. Chat really, really, really wants a Skizz raid. Gem raids into Skizz and ends her stream.

#hermitcraft #stream recap #server tour #geminitay #zombiecleo #rendog #xisumavoid #bdoubleo100 #falsesymmetry #smallishbeans #skizzleman #ethoslab #joe hills #pearlescentmoon #docm77 #so many hermits in this one guys it's wild #long post

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