.+*Pickle Cove*+.

My requests are open!

Hello! I'm new to writing fanfic, but I've been an avid reader for ages!! I hope to build a good fanbase if I can for multiple shows/games.

My Rules!!

I won't write any incest, pedophilia, homophobia, etc. Just the generally avoided stuff. Outside of my long SBR fanfic, I won't write anything that's longer than 7K words for a single work, 10K max. If you request something for someone who is under 18, it will be strictly fluff or platonic.

What will I write?

I'll only write x Reader or Platonic interactions. Oneshots, imagines, Alphabet lists, etc., are all on the table! For smut, I don't mind writing for kinks, so lay 'em down on me. PLEASE BE SPECIFIC!!! If you are not specific about what you want, I will not write it. I need something to go off of!!

What will I write for?

Jojos Bizarre Adventure (Parts 1-7), Genshin Impact, Honkai Star Rail, Jujutsu Kaisen, and Demon Slayer

Other than that, I'm still working on my layout for now, but I'm excited to see if this account goes anywhere!

General Masterlist *ੈ 🫙⸝⸝🥒✩‧₊˚

Horse races, Horsing around, and everything in between Masterpost

AO3 Link Here!

Description: Johnny Joestar x reader x Gyro Zeppeli

.+* With Astraea's family and farm on the decline, she can only hope that the money from the Steel Ball Run will save her from ruin. Farm knowledge, bow skills, and a backbone are all she has against the whole of America as she tries to come in first place.

OK SO IT TURNED OUT BEING LIKE HALF HEADCANONS HALF STORY? (forgive me if this is some butt) It was still really fun to write tho >:P

ALSO, Idk why, but I love putting Tusk in bonuses lmao <3

Pairing: Gyro Zeppeli/Reader (Girldad!Gyro Zeppeli)

Word Count: 2604

CW: None!

Initially, when he’s told that he’s going to be a father, he freaks out. Not like a ‘screaming his head off’ loss of composure, but more of a ‘I’m going to go process this silently now’ before slinking off to the stables where Valkyrie is at. 

It’s not that he’s necessarily scared of having a kid, but rather that he’s scared he won’t be able to provide everything the kid needs, especially emotional support and connections. 

What people don’t realize is that underneath all the jokes and loudness, he’s rather hesitant when it comes to leaning on people emotionally because he knows that’s where all the weight is at. A very deep part of him is scared he’ll end up like his father and turn a cold shoulder when someone comes to him with something delicate, only to turn them away, unintentionally or not. 

And despite him knowing Johnny for only a few months, it still took him a very long time to open up to him about things that he’d kept secret till then. His name, Marco, and his complicated relationship with his father and job—all of it were pieces of himself that he entrusted to Johnny, which was something he’d never done before. 

Now take that fear and apply it to an innocent life he’s supposed to watch over with care. The result? A very insecure man who covers it with barely held together boldness and who becomes very cautious about not ruining the one good thing he’s had sent his way in a long time. He becomes a little more withdrawn, and to those who know him well, it becomes very obvious; he begins burying himself in any work he can find. 

You said your horse needs new horseshoes put on it? He’s already over there. You’re craving something and it’s not in the house? He’s putting on his coat and heading to the store before you can say another word. Anything that lets him ignore the possibility of being a terrible father will be an opportunity that he gets his hands on.

That is, until someone, probably you, grabs him by the smooth hair on his head and yanks him to a chair while forcing him to sit in it. It’s only then that he’ll look you in the eyes with the most precious, yet disheartened wetness in his own before thumping his head against your chest and spilling to you everything he’s been thinking. After a while, the rambling comes to a stop, and without missing a beat, you wrap your arms around him while stomping out every single one of those nasty thoughts plaguing his mind. 

Every if, and, or, but he has gets addressed as you pay full attention to him, never ignoring or downplaying how he feels. He doesn’t know what he did to deserve this—to deserve you or the child that’s going to be eventually running down the halls of your home, his family. But now, he’s sure as hell going to do whatever it takes to keep you both happy, no matter what. 

So with excitement in his chest and a very surging giddiness, he’ll start pouring every ounce of love in his big heart towards being one of the best fathers out there, if not the best already. He starts learning how to carve wood and how to make furniture so he can customize the crib and any other things you both want for the child to your exact specifications. 

One time, you walked outside to catch him making one of those horsey rocking chairs for toddlers. There was nothing unusual about it; it was made to be safe and seemed no different from something you could find in town, but when you looked a tad closer, you noticed the horse looked a little too similar to the one currently grazing on some grass no more than 10 yards away from you. 

…

He made a damn horsey rocking chair with the exact detailing Valkyrie would have if she were in her riding gear. 

Instances like those will become extremely common, and when he isn’t doing something in preparation for your bundle of joy coming into the world, he’ll pamper you to no end. Rose petal baths, massages, hell, even making weird ass combinations of food that he calls ‘actual damage to his soul’ were something you found him doing with as much enthusiasm as humanly possible. 

Initially, you had planned to go with a midwife, like most people, but an idea had popped into your mind that you proposed to him without really thinking of the entirety of it. Like one of those random side thoughts that slid into your brain without you really knowing why, other than that something had prompted it out of nowhere. You’d asked him if he‌ wanted to do the delivery himself and said that if he didn’t, it wouldn’t be an issue, nor would you be offended. 

You expected him to give you a casual answer and maybe toss in a joke or do something silly like he usually did, but what ‌greeted you was a far cry from that. Instead, you had turned to see him staring at you like you were perfection itself, his lip slightly quivering as he approached you and cradled you in his arms with what could only be described as devotion. At that moment, it was decided that there wouldn’t be any other person who could be more perfect to bring your baby into this world than him. 

So, a few months later, when you were covered in God knows what in his family’s clinic while he stood in front of you, donning a gown and mask, you both finally had a squishy baby girl who looked, quite frankly, like a tomato. You were tired and exhausted, that was for sure. But even so, as he cradled her in his arms while slowly bringing himself down so you could take her, you saw another thing shift in him: something precious—delicate. 

It was the shift of realizing that everything laid out in front of him was real. There was no more ‘soon to be father’ or ‘soon to be mother’. No, you guys were parents now with a living, breathing baby girl crying her little lungs out. Likewise, it was also the realization that he had managed to ‌bring life into this world instead of taking life out of it. 

That thought alone had him crumpling onto the side of the bed with tears sliding down his tanned skin as you snuggled both yourself and your little girl into his arms. He’d come close to having the waterworks a few times but hadn’t actually gotten there. This time, there wasn’t anything he could do to stop it.

Once everything was settled and you could go home, it was like someone had twisted a knob on his back and told him to go crazy. No amount of persuasion could stop him from doing everything over the moon for your guys’ kid. Silly faces, toys, stories—all of it was on standby with him as you both raised her. 

At one point, he’d started to sing the cheese song to her as a lullaby of all things, and to your absolute horror, it worked. It worked a little too well, actually. Now, whenever you tried to put her down for a nap, he would have to sing that song to her because she refused to sleep without hearing it, ‌as if her little brain had somehow had the aptitude to make the decision that if she didn’t hear that song, she wouldn’t sleep for you both. 

Pizza, mozzarella your ass. 

As she grew, he would teach her things that had you clutching your pearls in typical parent worry but also had you leaning forward in your seat to see where it would go. It started with him putting her on Valkyrie’s back at the age of 5 while teaching her with gentle patience how to correctly hold reins and the body language of horses. 

All the things he loved in the world, he would share with your daughter. Funnily enough, that included dragging Johnny out to Naples from time to time to see her because he insisted she couldn’t go long without seeing her precious Uncle Jojo. All things ranging from how to tell good jokes, the simple meals his mother used to make him, horse riding, even how to beat up assholes wiggled their way into the things he’d teach her. 

Unfortunately for you, that last one had her running around the house at 6 while using you both as dummies for her to test on. Your household was never dull, to say the least. 

As for your daughter, she positively loved it. All the attention and playtime he shared with her had her smiling with a toothy grin at him whenever they were together, which was most of the time (he never liked being away from both of you when he had to work). He’d let her decorate his face with stickers or makeup with no qualms at all and even pretended to be a princess for her while he sat there patiently getting covered in pigments. 

Truly, she loved ‌you both as fiercely and loudly as he had to her. 

Now, on the occasions she did ‌something wrong, and he was the one to correct her behavior, he’d never done it dismissively. He’d grab her and plop her in front of him while she had a tantrum about whatever while waiting until her face turned from red to peachy. Then, he’d talk with her.

It wouldn’t be the ‘don’t do that again’ type of talking to, but something more along the lines of the ‘put me in your shoes’ kinda talk. He’d want to know where she was coming from and why she did what she did before he helped her make sense of how that might not be something she’d want to do again. 

For instance, she’d gone strictly against his word not to play with the steel balls because they could be dangerous. He’d shown them to her, of course, but had never given her any sort of permission to play with them because she was simply too young to understand what kind of danger they could have. It wasn’t like she could harness the spin anyway, but nevertheless, it was a boundary he had put for her, and ‌one she wasn’t allowed to cross until she was maybe older. He was still debating if he even wanted to put that kind of power in her hands. 

So one day, when she had climbed up his office desk and gotten them out anyway, he’d had to pry them out of her hands while she cried, angry little tears spilling down her puffy cheeks. Once she was calm, he’d taken her outside and sat her down on the backyard porch before asking her why she’d disobeyed him. And in typical kid fashion, she didn’t really know herself and had just wanted to see what they were and how they were supposed to be dangerous if they were just, well, a ball. 

She’d grown to be 8 by then. He’d sigh and take off his hat before taking out the steel ball from where he’d put it in his pocket and then held it out in front of her. 

Slowly, she watched as he began to rotate it until it was ‌whirring so fast it became a blur of motion, a soft humming coming from it. Afterward, he told her to watch since he was only going to do this once before he hurled it towards one of the wood logs that were out there to be chopped into useable pieces. It shattered upon impact and sent some chunks flying outwards. 

And just like that, he’d effectively taught her a lesson with no need to yell, have her‌ more upset than she’d been in the first place, or become frustrated himself. It always made you wonder how he was able to do such a thing in the first place—to have that sort of understanding, to know what to do or what to say to make sure all bases were covered without going backwards in progress. Truthfully, he didn’t give himself enough credit. 

And finally, when he could watch you interact with your daughter as you taught her your ways or helped her become herself, he wondered about his past fears. He wondered why he was ever nervous about failing as a father because nothing has ever motivated him more to be a good one than the two people sitting in front of him. 

Love really is a potent motivator, isn’t it? 

Yes, he thinks. Yes, it is. 

⋆⁺₊✩🩹🩸 ₊˚.💉⋆⁺₊✧ BONUS! 

“Okay, I’ll be back in about a half hour, I think?” You grabbed your market bag before tossing a few notes of money into one of the side pockets before slinging it over your shoulder. “I just gotta grab some more bottles from the market. Little troublemaker knocked two out of my hand and now we're down to 2 bottles.” 

You walked into the living room from where you had been in an adjacent portion of the house to see Johnny and Gyro playing with your daughter on her mat. She was currently very invested in the beanie Johnny had chosen to wear during his visit to you both in Naples. 

“Are you sure you don’t want either of us to go with you,” Gyro asked while a tiny had managed to grab a fistful of his hair before yanking on it, a slight wince coming from him before he blew a raspberry into the side of your kid’s stomach to get them to let go. “Nah, I’ll be good; it’s just a quick pop out. I’ll be back before you know it.” 

“Please do,” Johnny groaned. “If I have to hear one more cheese song rendition, I’m hitting him. Hard.” 

Gyro placed an offended hand on his chest before shoving his hand against Johnny’s face, the two swatting at each other. “...stronzo.” 

…

“I heard that.” You shook your head in amusement before you announced you were heading out the door. They both gave you a ‘goodbye’ and a ‘be safe’. Thankfully, you were only a few steps out of the door before you remembered you forgot to grab your sunhat. 

You walked back into your shared home and into the living room. “Hey, do either of you know where I put my–” You froze, then paused, and then sighed. Two pairs of wide eyes met your own while your shoulders slumped in dumbfoundedness. 

“Please, someone tell me why Tusk is being used as a prop holder for the bottle.” From the time that you had stepped out of the house, they had managed to get Tusk out and then put a bottle in his hands before settling the stand on your baby’s stomach so he was effectively being used as a bottle holder while they smothered the baby in attention. 

Neither of them said anything and just rubbed the back of their heads while Tusk flapped his ears at you to say hi. You dragged a hand across your face. 

“Tusk,” you said, still a little disbelieving at what you were seeing, “keep the baby fed.” The pink stand giving you a ‘chimimi!’. 

You grabbed your sunhat from the chair in the living room and headed out again. Idiots, you were under a roof with idiots, and you loved them all dearly. 

(Johnny Joestar x reader x Gyro Zeppeli)

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Just across the road from the presidential suite was ‌a standard multipurpose building. The building's various rooms served as offices, art studios, kitchens, and even educational tutoring areas. One of those tutoring rooms, in particular, was currently being used by Lucy Steel. 

“Madam,” her tutor tried to get her attention. 

He was the same gentleman who greeted the racers when they arrived at each stage and compiled the rankings, and today, he wore a semi-casual outfit. It wasn’t really anything special; black pants, a thin white linen undershirt with a black vest over it, and a small red bow were all he wore. “Mrs. Steel,” he tried again, but failed to capture her attention. 

For her, all she could think about was the weird things she had been seeing as of late, which had no truthful explanation. The heart she saw in the president’s chest, the man on the roof of the train, and her husband’s shifting mood recently. None of it made sense. 

“Are you listening to me, Mrs. Steel?” Her tutor brought his hand down next to her on the table behind her while she stared out the window. “In two to three days, the participants of this race are going to flood into this city, and I have mountains of work! You requested ‌a tutor, so here I am, but you haven’t paid attention to a word I’ve said!” He ran a hand through his hair, which reminded her more of long grass, if anything. The heels of his shoes clopped against the wooden floor as he waddled back to the chalkboard that was somehow taller than him. 

What an incredibly short man, she noted.

“I’m very busy, madam, and all you’ve been doing is looking out the window.” He picked up a small stick of chalk and began to write a new lesson on the board for her. She watched him scribble some words down before he paused and put the chalk down. “Is everything alright?” He dusted his powdered hands off with a rag and studied her carefully. 

He must’ve noticed her somber mood and figured her lack of attention span wasn’t out of boredom or a want to waste his time. She shrank in on herself and looked out the window again, but as she did, she noticed a very recognizable shade of pink from across the building and immediately shut the window’s shutters. Once she was confident they were latched, she rushed over to the chalkboard and grabbed the dusting brush to wipe off everything he had just written on it. 

“The fact that I've been learning lip–reading from you…” she placed the brush down and tried to keep herself from sounding nervous, “Have you told anyone about it?” Her tutor stared at her for a second, most likely confused why she would be so apprehensive about anyone knowing she was taking these lessons. “You haven’t told anyone,” she repeated. “No one knows, right?!” 

He scratched the corner of his lip where a few small hairs resided. “Yes, of course. That was what we promised.” Her blue eyes still contained an uncontrollable distrust towards his words, but for now, she’d have to take it. 

“Alright. Well, I’m quitting studying. None of this makes sense, and I don't get any of it at all! I might as well just take a nap if this stuff is going to be this difficult to learn.” She walked back over to the chair she had been sitting ‌in and plopped onto it harshly. “He’s probably going to yell at me for being so unfocused…” She rubbed the side of her head and let out a weary sigh. “Here’s your money. Now please go home.” A white envelope was pulled out of her pocket before she tossed her hand behind her and motioned for the man to take it. 

He did as such and bid her ‌farewell and wished her a peaceful day. Then, he left the room and clicked the door shut to make sure no one would disturb her. 

As soon as she heard his steps fade away for good, she wrapped her arms around herself and dropped to the floor; tears cascading down her fair skin and down the side of her neck. She didn’t know what to do. 

How could she? 

She was just a young girl who had witnessed unspeakable acts that more than likely would get her killed if she talked about them to anyone. She wasn’t supposed to be a part of government affairs other than being a face for the public eye. There wasn’t anything else she was required to do, but now she had choices open to her that made her feel impossibly small next to their grandiosity. 

If she went to her husband and described what she had heard and witnessed, she’d be putting him in the line of fire for something she knew was bad. What that was exactly, she couldn’t say, but she knew that it was something dangerous. 

Not only that, but she refused to do such a thing when he had already done so much good for her. He had never touched her, not once. Every time he initiated approved physical touch, it had been under strict, loving care and held no room for the vile actions she knew were happening to other young women out there. In fact, that was the whole reason she had been with Stephen now; he had saved her from being forced into prostitution and had let her live a normal life with him. 

He only ever wanted the best for her, and she could still recall the things he told her regarding those wishes. 

“Lucy,” she remembers him saying, “As long as you're here beside me, I’m content with living an ordinary life. I don’t need anything else. Well, I guess it makes me happy to see my name in the papers, even if they’re going to be in the trash the next morning.” He had smiled at her then while holding the exact paper he was talking about and had beckoned her over to draw her eyes to the corner of the milky sheet. “It can just be in the bottom corner in tiny letters—like right here. That’s fine with me, and just for that, I’ll put my whole heart and soul into this race.” 

A shiver surged through her body again. 

He’s going to be killed. Even if I don't tell him anything, I’ve seen too much of whatever that was, and knowing he’s my husband, they’ll be sure to kill him along with me… He was just being used, and when they don’t need him anymore, he’ll be disposed of too. 

She covered her face with her manicured hands and wept silently into them. She would’ve stayed like that too for a long time if a sudden coo didn’t take her out of her crying. 

She removed her face from her hands and stood up before walking over to the window she had shut to open it again. Right at the edge of her window sat a little white pigeon with a curled–up paper tied to its leg; its feathers were drenched with water and had turned a sullen grey, but the bird still looked very well groomed regardless—almost as if it had a caretaker. 

She figured the paper was some litter that had gotten stuck to the bird and went to remove it, but the animal had flown away before she got the chance to and had made its way to the building across from her to perch on a large birdcage. She leaned out the window a tiny bit and leaned on her hands, not really caring if her face got any wetter. The tears had done a good job anyway. 

She stayed like that for a few seconds and watched the bird with mild interest. It was only then that she realized which building the bird had landed‌ on, and what the connotation of a paper tied to the leg of a pigeon meant. Hadn’t she also heard the president complaining about not receiving a pigeon sent from a man named Ringo? 

That bird had to be it! 

Which also meant that it was most definitely carrying vital information on its leg that would doom everyone around her if the government got its greasy hands on it. She violently pushed herself back from the window and started running around in the room, trying to find who knows what. Even she herself didn’t know what she was trying to do in the moment. 

Should she let the information be given to the president? Does she dare to intervene? What if she got someone to shoot it from the window? No… That would draw too much attention. They’d kill her for sure then. What should she do?! 

She grabbed her coat before she thought any better and started to speedwalk towards the door and out into the hallway. She wasn’t going to kill the bird; she didn’t even think she had the heart to do that. But she still needed to prevent anyone from reaching that piece of paper. Think, she chanted, think…

Lunch…? Lunch! 

She’ll give her husband lunch. He’s conveniently in that building, and when she goes to give him the food, she can grab the note herself and burn it. But wasn’t the president in that building? There were going to be eyes and guards everywhere, but ‌she had to try. She needed to protect her husband. 

It only took her 10 minutes to construct a lunchbox before she made her way across the slippery street and onto the doorstep of the building. When she got there, the guard on duty halted her and asked her what she was doing. 

“I’m well aware that this building is government property,” she clarified before she lost time ‌answering too many questions. “All I need you to do is let me give my husband lunch, or just drop it off for him. He forgot to take it this morning.” The guard shifted his gun to his other arm and hadn’t moved yet while the rain hit her coat hard as she tried to think of something convincing. “You know who my husband is, right? Steven Steel? Please give it to him right away. It would be pointless to give it to him after lunchtime.” 

Steven's name caught the man’s ear, and thankfully he held out his hand for her to drop the lunchbox into. 

Success! 

She gave him the lunchbox and watched him open the door to the building to drop it off at the front counter. Taking the opportunity, she slinked in right behind him and darted her way behind the stairs, huffing quietly. The guard walked back outside and closed the door, the big wooden slab slamming shut. She considered herself lucky that the guard didn’t find it suspicious that she had vanished, and most likely blamed it on her wanting to get out of the weather.

When the coast was clear, she scurried up the stairs in her drenched attire until she reached the top door with a lock on it. Drops of water landed on the carpet below her as she took out a screwdriver she had previously snatched from a drawer and began to jam it behind the lock, wiggling the tool back and forth to get the lock off. 

Eventually, it popped off with a thud and landed in her waiting palm before she shoved it in her pocket and ran onto the roof. If it was even possible, the rain had picked up more and ‌begun to sting as it made contact with her skin. She needed to hurry before someone came up there. 

She stumbled through the rain to the birdcage and opened the side door to find the pigeon she had seen earlier. But right as she was about to reach for the bird, the door got caught on another lock while voices came from behind the door she had just broken into. “It should be coming soon,” she heard a breathy male voice say, almost as if its owner was struggling to breathe. “What kind of information do you think it is? There’s evidence that Ringo sent the bird here.” 

She clung to the wall where the cage perched. Where was she supposed to go? There was only open space up on the roof, and the only existing exit was the door that she had forgotten to close. No, no, no! “What…? There’s something wrong; the door is open!” 

Her breath quickened as she began to hyperventilate. If this was going to be how things were, then she’d at least screw over the government with all her might before they got to her first. So as the steps rapidly approached her, she took the screwdriver she had and made work of the screws. One by one, they fell into her palm and into her pocket, allowing her to grab the pigeon and rebolt the lock in place. 

But still, where was she supposed to go? She looked around and thought about going up on the ceiling that stood above the door, but there wasn’t enough time to climb on it. She was almost out of hope until she noticed that there was enough space underneath the cage to hide under.

The bird chirped as she dove under the wood, clutching the feathery nugget to her chest to make sure it didn’t make any noise as she started to work on grabbing the note from its ankle. She had even thrown a tarp over the under–railing of the cage to act as a sort of curtain, and right at the nick of time too. 

The door burst open as her fingers worked on getting the note out, two pairs of boots slamming against the stone roof and splashing up some water from the accumulating puddles. They released their tension when they didn’t immediately see anyone up there. “So,” the voice presumably belonging to the president drawled, “is the pigeon here?” The person he was talking to walked around to the cage door and unlatched the lock with a ‘clink’. 

All she needed to do was wait… but the damn bird had started writhing in her grasp and flinging its wings all over the place. She clasped her fists over it and prayed neither of them heard the flaps over the sound of the rain. “I'm so~rry, but I don’t see a pigeon carrying a message. It seems as if it hasn’t arrived yet.” 

That voice was one she didn’t recognize, but it spoke in a cadence that made it seem like the owner had a lofty view on life and prioritized happy, trivial things; a sort of magnanimity that you’d only hear in people who had flowers around their heads and sugar in their veins. Before, she wouldn’t have questioned it, but now she knew better. Whatever tone that was, it had only been used to mask a more cynical explosivity that didn’t care if people died. 

She wished she could see more or get new info, but as it stood, she was in no position to be going anywhere right now; never mind peeking her head out to an early grave. “What do you think? They said that pigeons are able to fly 2000km in one day. Even if it can’t fly fast, our pigeon should have arrived this morning, and the information was important enough that Ringo would’ve sent it before he died.” The president took a step towards the cage as she huddled herself closer to the wall. “Do you think… that the message had ‘its’ location?” 

She managed to shimmy the note off the bird and unwrapped its protective casing to reveal a set of coordinates and a sentence that read, ‘The location of the corpse part seems to be indicated with these numbers’. Ringo’s signature sat at the bottom of the paper as she held it in her hand. “Mr. President,” the fake voice came again, “Wait a moment… There’s something wrong with the pigeon house.” She heard the door get fumbled with as someone opened it with no care for the structure. 

“I’m so~rry… I said that the pigeon hadn’t arrived yet, but let me correct myself. There’s been one more pigeon that’s arrived since this morning. Meaning, Ringo sent two pigeons; one with the attached message to the foot, and another that he didn’t have time to send.” Whoever the guy was that was standing in front of her had caught her right in her tracks. 

This was bad… 

“What do you mean? Why would only one pigeon be in there without the other?” Both pairs of feet shuffled closer once more. “This is getting odder and odder,” the weird man noted, tapping what sounded like metal. “This lock has signs in it that hint towards someone breaking in while having tried to fix it after. Most of the screws are only half in while the top of the lock is damaged.” His feet turned around to face the president. “I’m so~rry, Mr. President. It seems like both birds did arrive! There are even footprints in front of the cage from the rain, and this pigeons wings are still damp.” 

If she weren’t in such a godawful spot, she would’ve spent just a tad more time questioning the guy's weird pronunciation of ‘I’m sorry’. 

“The pigeon most certainly arrived just a few moments ago!” 

In her panic at their growing realization, she had inadvertently squeezed the bird in her hands enough to puff out a few feathers from it. Her hand shot out to grab the escaping feather, but no matter how hard she tried, the wind from the motion kept forcing the feather to dance just out of reach. “Are you sure about this? And what are you saying then? That someone was just here? Why would someone steal the message like that…” She watched as the lone feather slipped out from under the make–shift curtain and out into the rain. 

She heard both men pause and stay in their spots. Damn it! They definitely saw the feather…! 

She saw the president walk slowly towards her hiding spot. He crouched down in front of her, put his hand on the curtain, and started to draw it back. She needed to do something now, like, right now. With no other options, she took a gamble and thrust the pigeon out from under the cage to make it seem like it had been hiding there on its own. Thankfully, the president had shot up from the ground and ran towards the direction of the escaping bird. 

“It’s the pigeon with the message! What are you doing?! Catch it immediately, Blackmore!” 

So that was his name: Blackmore. “Yes, I’m so~rry. I’ll go after it right now, Mr. President.” She didn’t spend anymore time to see what was going on and had taken their distracted state to slide behind them both and back into the door. Certainly not enough time to hear them curse the fact that the cap was gone, curse whoever had just been there, and curse the loss of the message. If they weren’t on her tail before, they would be now. 

She sprinted down towards the stairs and slid down them, not caring if she got hurt. Tears started to escape her out of fear, but she wasn’t done yet; no, she still had to get this note to someone or burn it entirely. If worse came to worse, she could always eat the note, but they’d probably gut her open and fish it out of her stomach. 

“This is an emergency,” she heard on the speakers, “Someone has invaded the building! Close this building down! Now! Find the intruder, and if you encounter them, I give you permission to shoot!” 

The President had repeated the command, enraged and about two seconds away from blowing up the building himself, from the sound of it. The teardrops on her face doubled from her worry, blurring her vision and clouding everything in front of her. Despite the dewdrops in her eyes, she marched forward until she heard soldiers climbing up the stairs she was trying to go down. 

“No one’s come below this floor yet! The intruder is above, go, go! Check every room on this floor men!” She thrust herself into the nearest place, which happened to be an empty office, and locked the door before sliding down against it and choking. 

What have I done? What should I do… Uhh… I should have just left the pigeon house alone! I’ve only made things worse for Steven! I'm finished. They’ll find me here, but if they do, it would be my fault, and he would have to take the blame.

Whatever the case, she needed to try to escape to make sure Steven would be okay, so she hurried towards one of the windows and opened it to see how far down the drop was. Maybe she could throw down something to be a rope or just start climbing down it and hope she doesn’t fall. She was about to duck back in the window when movement on her left caught her eye. 

Just a few windows down was a man who looked to be standing on the air, but upon further inspection, seemed to be standing on the rain. Her eyes widened as she looked at his shoes; she knew those boots. They were the same ones that belonged to the man with the dual voice on the rooftop. 

He was carrying an open umbrella and wore a heavy, navy blue cloak that went down to his shins. The boots themselves were a light grey with a polka dot pattern on them, and most of it looked fairly normal except for the blonde ponytail coming out from right on top of his head. Sensing something was off, he turned to look her way, so she glued herself back to the wall of the office and hoped she was small enough for it to cover all of her. 

He was going to come this way now, she was sure of it. 

“The intruder is hiding in this room!” She whipped her wet head to the side to look back at the door. This was it—she was screwed. “Stand back, Mr. President! We’ll bust it down with a shotgun!” Well, almost. 

She pushed all the energy she had into her legs and kicked off the wall to bolt into the connected room. Right as she did, the front door was shot off its hinges while the man Funny Valentine had regarded as Blackmore crashed through the window. Glass shattered behind her, sounding like a dropped chandelier, while the boom of the shotgun made her wince, wood spiraling outwards in every direction. 

“There,” Blackmore pointed towards the bathroom she had entered, “He ran in there!” 

She shut the door firmly, lost her footing, struck the tiled wall, and rose again to secure the door. As soon as it was closed, she slid down against the wall opposite ‌the door and began letting out puffed whimpers of defeat. “You have permission to shoot! Dead or alive, it doesn’t matter! He might flush the information down the toilet!” She heard several men cock their guns and ram themselves against the door. “Block the sewage system of the building!” 

Everything was coming to an end. She was going to die here on this floor, and her intervention would’ve been for nothing. “Stand back, we’re blowing this down.” Her shaky hands rose to her head and gripped her silky hair in her hands, ripping out the golden strands in a fit of despair. She’d never see Steven again, and as a matter of fact, he was going to die after this. 

She might as well have condemned herself to hell with her own actions, with the blood of her husband on her hands. She felt sick. Sick of the government, sick of herself, sick from whatever the hell was in the president’s chest. Even the word sick made her sick. 

Everything was so loud to her right now, so when a sudden rope ‌dangled itself in front of her, she was more than surprised to find her hearing coming back to her with the fibers of hope that had dropped down. “Mrs. Steel, grab onto that rope.” 

Wait… she knew that voice! 

Her eyes travelled upwards to see the rope coming from a vent above her. Stunned, she hadn’t moved, but the symphony of men yelling, guns clicking, and many slamming noises made her kick into action. “Grab my rope, Lucy! Hurry!” She saw Mountain Tim peek his head through the vent and lower his arm down the rope to grab onto her. 

“Mountain Tim!” she breathed out in relief while hauling herself up and grabbing the rope. She felt his severed arm on the rope wrap around her to begin lifting her up and into the vent. 

“Thank you for the phone call and for remembering me.” He opened the vent and brought her into it before closing it without a sound. Afterward, he motioned for her to follow him as he started crawling his way back from where he had come. It seemed like it wasn’t over just quite yet. 

She wiped her tears and began to follow him, and as she did, she could hear the guards break into the bathroom while the president and Blackmore began to investigate. 

“What is the meaning of this, Blackmore?! Where is the intruder?” The president swung an arm out in frustration and shattered a tile on the wall while Steven Steel had walked onto the scene. His presence alone had dunked the pink man into a liquid vat of unbridled fury. “Everyone uninvolved is to stay in their rooms! Don’t even take a step out your door until I give express permission!” 

Steel ‌looked shocked to see such an ugly look on his face, but complied anyway; scared to face the consequences of disobeying such a direct order. “Explain yourself, Blackmore! What are you going to do?! You said the enemy wasn’t a stand user, so explain to me how someone with no abilities whatsoever escaped from this fucking bathroom?!” He pointed a barely contained fist at the man. “It will not be forgiven!”

“If I may, Mr. President,” Blackmore interjected while looking around the room. It seemed as if he hadn’t even paid attention to the obvious anger that was being prodded at his person. “We may have not lost the intruder yet. Actually, there might even be two of them.” He began to exit the room and started to make his way towards the telephone that lay on the desk in the office. “There was one on the roof and one that helped with the escape. Luckily for us, it’s infinitely easier to track two people rather than one.” He paused. “I wonder if this phone was used to contact someone for help…”

He mused to himself silently. Whoever had been so bold as to steal information from right under their noses would pay; he was sure of it. So with the information he had, he stepped out of the open window and into the pouring rain, stepping on the drops and dancing across them like a performer on a grand stage—graceful, planned. 

Yes, he was sure they would be caught. 

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈🗁⊹ ࣪ ˖ 

On the other side, Lucy and Mountain Tim were able to escape successfully, finding themselves in a warehouse from climbing through a window. They were both soaked from head to toe, but Lucy had been especially wrecked over the whole ordeal and had buried herself into the comforting warmth of Mountain Tim’s arms. 

She was shivering and trying to self soothe when he had spoken to her. “I dropped out of the second stage of the race due to some injuries from Oyecomova, but mainly because there were too many things going on behind the scenes for me to stay put. An acquaintance of mine helped me to avoid most of the bomb damage, so I haven’t been fully put on the floor yet. I’m thankful to her; otherwise I might not be here to have helped you.” 

She hiccupped in his grasp as he spoke softly and simply held her until he decided she was still too shaken for his liking. He buried pressed a kiss to her sopping hair and brought her closer to himself while trying to squeeze out some of the water from her locks. “Youre shaking terribly… Dear, dear…,” he paused before taking her face in his hands and wiping away some of her tears on his leather glove. “What were you doing in that building? Are you getting involved in some dire event?”

As he questioned her, all she could think about was the fact that she had doomed a person regardless to a fate worse than death. Now, wherever Tim went, he would be chased after like a mouse running from a cat; the government would come for him, and it was all her fault. Her own carelessness had gotten a poor, uninvolved man dragged into a mud so filthy it felt impossible to wash off. 

She pushed away from him, holding herself close while biting her lip and looking towards the ground in hot shame. 

“...I can’t tell you… Never…” She let out a pained choke and pressed the palms of her hands into the socks of her eyes to will the faucet behind them to shut. “If I do, you’ll be in danger too.” 

“Aren’t I already?” Seems like he also came to that conclusion. “Look, Lucy… I know you belong to another man, but I want to be of help to you. Ever since we first met, that’s been my intention—to protect you from all the cruel things of this world.” He grabbed her softly, making sure she was okay with the contact, before dragging her back into his hold and grasping her hands in his own. 

She let him hold her hands for a second before letting them fall back by her sides. “Mountain Tim,” her voice undertaking the same tone you would use for a child being taught a hard lesson, “Maybe I’ve led you on, but the only person that could help me in that situation was you. And yes, maybe I’ve already involved you in this, but please, walk away. Something dangerous is closing in on us, and the thought of you facing retribution for my mistakes fills me with a pit of horrible shame.” She looked at him with the first semblance of something fierce since she had been chased. “You need to leave me to face whatever comes on my own. I’ve already put you in enough trouble as it is, but if you can go undetected from here on out, you should be able to still live a normal life. Maybe somewhere with a nice beach.” 

He sighed at her but smiled fondly until his face turned hard and determined. “My only fear is losing you. Even if you could welcome me with a smile after I come back to town from my journeys, just for that I’m not afraid to fall into hell itself.” 

She straightened up in her spot and stood her ground. “You know I can’t do that… The only person I love is my husband. I am who I am because of my name: Steel. I owe everything to him; the life he’s been able to give me is more than I could ever ask for, and until I die, I will devote myself to him for that same reason.” She watched him process her words until he nodded—a solemn look washing across his rugged features but not making any sort of commentary on the forward rejection she’d laid out to him. She was glad he didn’t try to push her more on it. 

“I see. So everything that is happening to you now, you’ve done to protect your husband? Lucy, if you feel utterly helpless in this situation, I advise you to go see Johnny Joestar, Gyro Zeppeli, and Astraea. All three of them will be approaching the goal soon.” He wiped off some of the rain on his coat before he began to make his way towards the warehouse’s door. “The three of them can be trusted. I know that because they were the reason I’m still standing here right now, and you also share a common enemy, so assisting them will most likely lead to helping Mr. Steel.” She watched him place a hand on the door handle. “Do take care, and may fortune be with you.”

She gulped and gave him a farewell. Once she was alone, she moved towards a table that she had spied earlier, which contained a map. She took the map out and laid it flat on the wooden surface while pulling out the stupid, tiny little paper she’d risked her whole life for. 

It’s close… The location that this note shows is around this area, and it’s very close to Kansas City. It wouldn’t even take 30 minutes by horse… Even I know this place; there’s a small ruin in the fields known as the ‘green tombstone’. 

That may be the spot! If it’s in this location, it has to be it: the corpse’s spinal section! If I can find it, I might be able to keep it safe enough so the president won't get his hands on it. But is that really the best choice of action? Will I be able to guard it enough to where no one will find it? They’re going to be crawling everywhere, even more now with that stunt I pulled off…

 She was beginning to sweat again. ⁣ Do I hand it off to Johnny Joestar?! 

Her mind was tossing way too many variables into the equation for her to make a sound decision right now. ‘What ifs’ and consequences plagued her mind like a vile disease that was spreading its way into her rationality, causing her to overload and combust. The only thing that had been tying her down to reality was the promise she made to herself to keep her husband safe. 

After all, any cause worth dying for is also worth living for. 

She’d try her damned hardest to stay alive and get to that spine before the government could. So with as much courage as she could muster up, she straightened out her wrinkled clothes and marched out into the rain again, using her dainty figure to hide in the shadows until she made it to the stables. 

She crept up to the door and opened it with as much carefulness as she could. Any noise that would alert anyone of her presence would put a huge red target over her head. When she entered, the first thing that hit her was the overwhelming smell of farm life; pigs, sheep, horses, etc. had all been stored in this building at some point, their feces left behind because of the worker’s laziness or sloppy work. 

She covered her nose with her hand and blinked away the tears that had graced her lash line from the harsh sensory overload. God, it reeked. Either way, she needed to get going and soon. 

So, she grabbed the nearest saddled horse she could, even if it was government property, and hopped on it without a second thought; once she was on it, she shoved her feet through the stirrups and snapped the reins. The horse shot forward and out of the stables with her bouncing haphazardly on its back, the brown fur on it bleeding into a dark chocolate color as the rain soaked into the short hairs. 

All she had with her right now were a set of coordinates in her head and a growing fire in the pit of her belly to ensure her husband's safety. Quite frankly, everything hurt too. Her legs ached from relentless running, flashes of horrific potential futures troubled her mind, and the fast-moving rain sliced at her skin. 

It served as a subtle reminder, though, to know that she was still going despite almost getting caught. Fear wasn’t enough to dissuade her now. 

It came after her like a bloodhound, but she’d looked it in the eyes and refused. 

As the mud painted her clothes, she balled herself up on the horse and tugged her coat tighter against her body, leaving Mountain Tim behind and going into the storm with one destination in mind: the location of the corpse’s spine. 

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈🗁⊹ ࣪ ˖ 

As for the cowboy himself, he was walking away from the warehouse he had left not only 15 minutes ago, meandering down the empty street since most of the townspeople were cuddled up in their homes to avoid the downpour. 

Everything was going as smoothly as it could until the rain had stopped pelting him from above. He didn’t need to look up to know someone had been above him; the shadow that was cast on the floor already said enough. 

“What do you want?” He paused his walking and rolled his shoulders back, a lone streak of water running down the same path the scar across his face had taken: from the right corner of his forehead to the left side of his cheek. “I’ll thank you for acting as my personal umbrella, but you should really know that it's damn rude to stand above a person’s head, Mr. Blackmore. Especially one such as mine.” He unclasped his hunting rope from his belt and held it in his right hand. 

He walked forward a few steps and turned around with ‌unmistakable malice. Looks like he was right on the money. There, perched on the rain only a few feet away from him, was Blackmore; he had a navy blue umbrella that he held in his hand with the same attire Lucy had described to him. But what she had failed to mention was the haunting mask that sat crooked on the corner of his head, like one of those tilted tiny hats that ‌pompous English socialite women wore on the side of their heads. 

“I’m so~rry, but I’m on ‌duty right now and in a hurry.” Blackmore looked at him with a tilt of his head and a demeanor that said he was fucked; like he knew he had caught him red–handed and was just putting him through a courtesy before he went for the kill. This whole thing was an act to him, which he was enjoying. Asshole was playing with his food. “Mountain Tim, or should I say Marshal, I just have one simple question, and I’ll let you be on your way. I heard you received a phone call from inside the government earlier; is that right? Would you be so kind as to tell me the name of the caller? Federal Marshal,” he spat, stepping onto a new drop of rain, “Mountain Tim.”

His name sounded like a warning in Blackmore’s mouth. God, he hated that guy’s voice. No one with a synthetic ass voice like that should be tarnishing his title and dragging it through the mud as if it were any other name. 

He knew how much of an egotistical thought that was, but he had a good reason for it. That title was ‌living proof of the cowboy he was, of who he had become over the years. A protector, a marshal, a defender. He’d saved many people throughout the course of his life and had jailed more than that. People had kept in touch with him because of it; thanking him for his service and owing him their lives. 

And even with that power over them, he’d never abused those facts and had simply said it was just a part of the job and that if they ever needed anything, he was only a letter away. 

Helping people was ‌part of his core beliefs, so trampling over his name was to trample over the people that he loved and knew. 

“Ahh… the phone call,” he answered back and threw out a toothy grin with a tilt of his zebra–striped hat, “Yeah, I see.” 

…

Hell NO he didn’t. 

He drew out his revolver with a snarl and shot Blackmore 3 times in the body before turning on his heel and dashing for the nearest building in sight. “You slimy rat–bastard traitor!” He heard Blackmore roaring in agony behind him as he took down the door of the building he had run to with a good kick of his leg. He threw himself behind the door and whipped out from behind it to pump Blackmore full of lead. 

When he looked at the scene he had left, he could see Blackmore kneeling on the ground and openly bleeding. The blood pooled beneath him and mixed with the rain, turning into a washed–out pink and swirling down the rain gutters. However, just as the bleeding had begun, it stopped; the syrupy liquid suddenly congealed or clotted and ‌remained in his body. Blackmore looked towards him with nothing short of rage. 

Instead of his eyes having a glossy white, a strained red—veins bursting with the sheer pressure he was putting behind them—replaced the sclera. Danger flowed from Blackmore and triggered every single sense of warning that his mind had learned to recognize. Every pattern and signal that he had come to note immediately as a result of his time bounty hunting exploded like fireworks. 

He didn’t waste another second and shot off an entire round of bullets, each one going clean through Blackmore but not causing him to lose any more blood. What the hell was up with him?

He looked up toward the grey clouds that were looming above them and back to Blackmore. He had a hunch earlier that his stand ability had something to do with water, which was why he had dived for dry cover as soon as he could, but he never would’ve guessed it had been the rain directly—that Blackmore could control the tiny blobs of water. 

“You want some more, or is that enough for ya?” He gave Blackmore a satisfied grin and prayed he bought the cover for his worry and watched him get back up to his feet and spit a heap of blood on the floor. 

All of a sudden his voice dropped the dolly lilt. “You’re gonna regret that, Marshal.” 

He scoffed. “Will I? We both know that as soon as you enter this building, all your power will disappear.” He watched a slew of frustrated rage cross Blackmore’s face; eyes squinting, nose scrunching, teeth clenching. “If I’m not mistaken, you can control the rain out there, can’t you? There ain’t none of that in here though.” He pulled out a cigarette and a lighter, bringing the flame to the tip of it and letting the end get singed. After, he drew in a good breath and wiggled the flame in front of Blackmore to say, ‘Lookie here! It's dry!’. “So, what’ll it be? Wanna come over here and find out what happens when you don’t have access to the rain? Personally, I’d be very excited to see the result.” 

“Fuck you.” Blackmore took a step towards him and clenched his fist into a tight ball, the skin turning white, no doubt. “When I catch that wretch of a little girl, you’ll be the first to receive her goddamn head. I’m gonna enjoy it too.” He watched a nasty smirk twist his lips upward. “Watching her be so afraid to die. Don’t think I didn’t hear those pathetic noises coming out of her before you took her from that bathroom.” 

How sick in the head is this guy? 

“After I’m done with her and I’ve got the spine, you’re next. This is far from over, Mountain Tim, but I’ve got orders to carry out so I can’t play with you anymore.” 

“Who do you think you’re fooling?” He took another drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke out of his mouth with a slow exhale. “I’ve already given you more shots to the body than you’re going to live through. As soon as the rain stops, you’re gonna die. Chase your suspect all you want, but they’re long gone by now; they’ve also got three people more than willing to kill you on their side.” He dropped the cigarette and stomped it out. “So go. See what happens when you try to pursue em’.” 

Blackmore didn’t say anything to him. All he did was bring his mask down to his face before hopping onto the rain, his feet pushing off of the small drops and gliding his way into the darkness of the heavy rain. He sighed, his tongue gliding across his teeth and tasting the remnants of the smoke break he had inadvertently taken. 

He wanted to go after Blackmore; he really did, but he knew that if he took a step out of the building he was in, then Blackmore would be sure to make good on his promise. On the off chance that he didn’t, he also knew that he couldn’t catch up to Blackmore with how fluidly he could move through the rain. 

Additionally, he knew that Blackmore had seen the wet patch on his clothes from where Lucy had been and silently made his own deductions of who had stabbed them in the back. There was no doubt that he had put the double lunch boxes and her frame together to know it was her. 

All he could do now was pray that Lucy got whatever spine Blackmore had been talking about and find you three before Blackmore caught up with her. 

Man, he really needed another cigarette. 

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈🗁⊹ ࣪ ˖ 

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. 

That was all Lucy could hear over the rain as she rode north to the coordinates she had stashed in the safety of her pocket. Her horse had trudged through the mud and over the land to the eventual spot she needed to find. 

When she had actually gotten to the place, she was met with a very open and grassy field, with the only indicator of anything of significance buried there being a moderately sized stone with an engraving of a human and some sort of sun near it. She pulled the reins of the horse and jumped off it once its massive body had come to a halt, her dress and knees becoming caked in more mud. 

It’s here; it has to be. There’s no other place that spine can be buried. 

She ran towards the mysterious stone and fell at its base. Not wasting a second, she began burying her hands into the mushy ground and flinging handfuls of mud behind her. The more she kept digging, the more her hands began to suffer from the action—dirt clinging to the underside of her nails, the joints in her fingers beginning to jam under the task they weren’t made for, her skin turning an irritated shade of red. 

It hadn’t made her stop, though. 

She didn’t know how long it had been since she started shoving her hands into the earth, but eventually, her fingers came into contact with what felt like a very sturdy material. Not quite stone, but not something manmade either. She started tossing more chunks of wet dirt behind her to dig out whatever she had found; the hair on her head was a varying mess of browns and yellows, while her skin was splotched with various substances she didn’t want to think about. 

When she was done, she was completely exhausted, but she had done it. Now uncovered before her sat ‌a mummified human spine that had been in this exact spot for what was probably hundreds of years. There you are, she thought. 

She grasped the spine in her ruined hands and brought it back to the horse that had wandered a little ways away and wrapped it in a clean cloth to conceal it. All she had to do now was get ‌somewhere safe. Where was that exactly? She didn’t know, but she needed to make up her mind right this second. So with no safer option, she hopped back on her horse and clutched the spine to her chest before heading in the very direction she knew you three would be at. 

She’d maybe only been riding for 20 minutes before disaster struck. 

The spine had been with her safely as she followed the telephone poles to your guys’ location, occasionally riding onto the sandy areas under the wires to avoid the high rises that blocked her. She’d been replaying Mountain Tim’s advice to her in her head the entire time about assisting you three to save her husband. But would she be able to get there in time? 

Can I even make it? The storm is getting stronger… It would take the racers about seven hours to even get to where I am right now through this rain, and I can barely see as it is…!

Her worrying hadn’t lasted long, or maybe it had actually increased depending on how you viewed it when a random pair of teeth ‌indents snapped down onto her arm like an alligator. It felt like she was being bitten by someone, but when she looked at her arm, she couldn't see anything—just the dents left in her arm and the blood starting to prickle out of the deepest parts of the wound. 

“‘Scuse me, Mrs. Steel, but what are you doing behind that rock? And all out here nonetheless?” She began frantically looking around, but no matter which way she looked, there wasn’t a soul. “Up here.” Her neck snapped upwards to see Blackmore standing on the rain; it was the same thing he had been doing when she saw him outside ‌the window back in the office. “Mind if I ask what you have there?” She clutched the spine closer to herself. “Yes, that. That bundle that you’re clinging to.” 

She couldn’t even prepare herself when he ‌dropped down by the neck of her horse to place an enormous hand on the cloth guarding the spine. “You’ve done something quite foolish, Lucy.” She looked at his bare face as tears started to cloud her vision. She let out a croak and shook her head back and forth, as if she were refusing the fate that had been bestowed upon her. 

It got so bad that she couldn’t even look him in the face and had instead shifted her blurry eyes down to his chest, where she saw numerous holes in his body. Mountain Tim… You did this, didn’t you? 

“Please,” she begged, “don’t do this…” He ignored her. 

“Can you see my mask?” She tried to scoot back on the saddle, but he gripped her face in his hand and brought her closer to him to inspect her reaction. His hazel eyes analyzed her and eventually deemed her a non–threat. Physically, at least. “I’ll take that as a no. It’s astonishing, actually, that you hold that bundle and are still unable to become a stand user. Mountain Tim was my subordinate, but you’re different.” 

He ripped the spine from her grasp as she fought him over it with what meager strength she had before he got fed up and smacked her across the face. “I wanted to kill you so badly, but the president wants to decide your fate himself; that goes for your husband too.” Her voice refused to find itself as she watched him dance on the rain and onto the telephone pole they were under. 

“Hello?” She heard him attach something to the pole before speaking into it. “Do you copy? This is Blackmore. Please connect me to the president’s room; it’s urgent. Uh huh. Yes. How long? That’s not quick enough; work faster.” She heard him sigh before he placed the portable telephone ‌to the side to wait for something. 

While waiting, he pushed the cloth to the side to see the spine for himself. So this is the spinal section, he noted. It’s surreal to even think it’s in my arms right now—that I’m actually touching it! It almost shines… I kind of want it… Say that I don't hand this one over to the president and keep it as my own; I’d technically have the right to own this, seeing as I’m the one that had to come out here myself. Doing all the damn grunt work for that pink porkchop. 

How can a president even be the size of the damn country—wait. 

This wasn’t the plains anymore. 

He began to look around and noticed that instead of the grassy, open lands of northern Kansas City, he was instead in a very small town, surrounded by houses and water towers. The scenery, no matter his direction, was filled with houses and buildings reminiscent of a farming village.

What? What is this place?!

 “Hello?!” He picked the phone cone–like phone back up and smushed it against his ear while placing the mouthpiece by his lips. “Have you gotten the president yet?!” No one had answered him. In his haste, he hadn’t taken more than a few seconds to note his new surroundings, so when he looked to see the wires of the telephone completely cut in half, he was speechless. It was the second time today that fear and pure spite filled his heart. 

His eyes followed the top of the pole all the way to the bottom to see that the entire thing had impaled a carriage. Where the hell was he?! Even Lucy had been transported with him to this weird space, but a gaunt hand prevented him from grabbing her and interrogating her immediately. 

Right on the other side of the post was a rather skinny man who had medium–length, grizzly brown hair. Even more curious was the crown of thorns that adorned his head and the holes in the center of his hands. 

The contradictory part? His eyes. 

Such warm, warm eyes. When the stranger ‌looked at him, he did it in a way that had him tensing up and letting down his walls all at the same time. It was the kind of look that a mother would give you who loved you so much but had also realized that she couldn’t prevent you from doing bad things in life, even if she wanted to so badly. She’d do anything for you, anything at all, but she didn’t have the power to decide for you whether you would follow a righteous path that she built for you or not. 

The stranger's eyes didn’t carry an ounce of pity, though, no. All that was captured in them was an irrevocable longing for something that he couldn’t place his finger on, and after a few seconds, the look had turned sour. Like he’d done something bad to displease this stranger and had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. 

All too quickly, the stranger plunged his hands into the spine, if that was even possible, and was about to do something to the spine. However, a shot had rung out, which made the paradoxical man fade away into nothingness while he got pinned to the post with another bullet in his neck. 

This, stupid, fucking wretch of a girl. How many times must I be interrupted and shot?!

Below him, Lucy had found a nearby gun and used his dazed state to her advantage, firing off the weapon with shaky hands and more salty tears. He began to fall from the top of the pole and slid down the post while trying to cling to it to prevent himself from dying on impact. 

The end result was a disgusting, streaky path of blood all the way down the wood with his body crumpled on the ground while he leaned against the wood for support. “What are you doing with that gun?” He grasped his own throat and willed his stand to stop the bleeding. “Woman! Shooting me will be the worst mistake you have ever made since your birth. To even think that you’d do something like this… You will never become a stand user! And what the hell is up with your aim?! You’ve probably never held a gun in your life, so explain to me how a non–stand user such as yourself can even have aim like that?!”

She ignored him, just like he had done to her, and shot him two more times in the gut. Once the bullets had fully sunk into his flesh and some blood had squirted out, she grabbed the spine from him and hopped back on her horse, riding away and into the sparse forest. 

…this can’t be. How did it turn into a forest now? There’s no more building, and the carriage is gone. He coughed out a spew of blood and took ‌a strangled breath. Are we moving? The bending of space and such has caused the area around the pole, Lucy, and me to move 34 km. A distance of three to four hours by horse. 

What a phenomenon… 

Even this storm is because of the power of the spine. Without it, I doubt such perfect conditions for my stand would’ve randomly appeared all on their own. Is it because the corpse parts are trying to unite? 

If so, the spine would be ‌drawn to the left arm of Johnny Joestar. He forced the raindrops around him to fill the holes the bullets had made and had them act as temporary clots. I can’t believe this shit, just because of that girl. Mountain Tim is right, that pompous cowboy. After the rain of this storm has stopped, I will suddenly die. The lid for my wounds will drain out, but I accept this; it’s my punishment. 

My punishment for my despicable lust and feeble will for scheming to keep ‘him’ for myself! ‘His’ holy corpse must be gathered for the president of this nation, who will one day become the head of the world. He let out an agonized scream as he stood up. I don’t care if I die anymore; I will serve with all my body and soul! 

He shook off his nerves and began to glide on the rain once more to catch up with Lucy. Those corpse parts would be the president's and no one else’s! Not his, not Lucy’s, not Johnny’s, not Gyro’s, not yours. Only the president’s. 

General Masterlist *ੈ 🫙⸝⸝🥒✩‧₊˚

Jojo's Bizarre Adventure (parts 1-7)

Gyro/Fem!Reader (nsfw)

Platonic!Jotaro & Reader

Girldad!Gyro Zeppeli headcanons

AOIDUVNOAIDVNB TYY!! I'm always super happy to know people enjoy what I write >:P I literally only started writing recently so I had no idea if it was going to be any good or not 😭😭😭

OMG YES! Having Jotaro as a friend would actually be wild asf. Like, imagine the possibilities... I'd be spamming the HELL out of getting marine facts cause WHY NOT HE'S RIGHT THERE?!

Anyway, I hope this ended up being something you'll enjoy!! (I did write this in one go, so there might be sooome typos... pls ignore them lmao)

*ੈ 🫙⸝⸝🥒✩‧₊˚

Pairing: Jotaru Kujo & Reader (Platonic!)

Word Count: 5188

CW: Spoilers for part 3, part 4, and part 6. However, there is an AU ending for part 6 that I thought would be sweeter than the canon.

When most people look at Jotaro, they either become immediately scared of him because of his closed off personality and overall looks. That, or the girls at your guys’ school try to worm their way into his personal life to make him their boyfriend, which might just be the boldest choice any of them could make. 

I mean, c’mon, it doesn't take someone with a super intellect to determine he’s not the kind of guy to be all over women or vice versa. He really just wants people to mind their own space and leave him the fuck alone, which is mainly what he thought until you waltzed in one day with no intention of making any friends and to focus on your studies. 

You were a transfer student who had a very sloppy and almost uncomprehensive way of speaking Japanese, the syllables coming off all wrong and twisted when you tried to say one thing only to have accidentally said something almost entirely different. Honestly, it was one of the main reasons you hadn’t tried to make friends with anyone because you were too nervous to speak to people in fear of completely coming off the wrong way. 

And if the nice senior man at the convenience store had taught you anything, it was that you needed to spend just a little more time sharpening up your linguistics before actually trying to communicate with people fluently. (He thought you were hitting on him at the age of 60 and had smiled understandingly while he corrected you politely before you walked out of the store in shame with your snacks.) 

So it came as a surprise to you when a very tall guy wearing two belts and a mean ass frown tried to make conversation with you when you were already notorious for not being able to even speak in the native tongue properly. You were literally just sitting under a tree outside trying to get some work done after school before he had come up to you unprompted. 

“新しく入った方ですよね” (You’re new, right?)

What the actual hell had he even just said to you? You started to panic when the hardened look on his face turned into something even worse, the corners of his mouth barely visible anymore as his lips flattened into an impatient line. 

Yep, this is where this guy beats you up like you’ve heard him do to others. Apparently, his name was Jotaro Kujo, and he was extremely prone to beating people up when they did something he didn’t like—so much so that he’s been thrown into juvenile prison before for it and had a horrible track record at school. Although you’ve heard his mom is a sweetheart from some of your other classmates who speak English well enough because they’ve seen her smothering him outside of the school gates. 

“I uh, you said something about me… I think?” You paused, trying to think of something to say so you at least didn’t come off as a jackass or leave him ticked off at your non–responsiveness. “My name is (l/n), (y/n).” You told him your name in Japanese since it was one of the phrases you’d memorized first, seeing as it was one of the more important ones. 

“Kujo, Jotaro.” He spoke to the point and quickly, like talking to you was more effort than it was worth, but without the bitterness he usually gave other women as to not seem completely uninterested. “I know some English, so just speak in it.” 

“Oh,” you chirped, relieved. “Not many here do, which makes me happy to hear at least one more person speak it, but if it’s not too rude of me to ask, why are you talking to me?” If your brashness surprised him, he didn’t show it. You didn’t want to be mean to the guy, but speaking with him was stressing you out more than you thought it should; after all, you still didn’t want to get into some sorta conflict with him. You just wanted to finish your work and then continue the little marine life sticker book you’d bought at the convenience store. 

It was one of those ones where you had to place the stickers down on a pre–selected background to make a full picture of something, and in this one's case, it was supposed to be an aquarium when it was done. So far, you’d only gotten about a fifth of it done but had been working on it in your free time. 

You would’ve thought more on it, but his voice had brought you out of your distracted la la land. “Just wanted to know if you liked sea life.” Wait. Surely this guy wasn’t serious?

You blinked. 

He didn’t move. 

Holy shit. He totally was, wasn’t he?! This random delinquent, whom everyone had collectively agreed to avoid in fear of getting punched in the face, had come up to you for no reason at all because he wanted to know if you liked sea animals. He’d probably seen the little sticker book halfway sticking out of your school bag and thought you were some childish girl who played with five cent pieces of plastic. Oh, whatever, if you were gonna get caught with it, you might as well own up to it. 

“I do,” you answered truthfully. “I think they’re more interesting to learn about than land animals since we already have most of them catalogued and filed away.” You blew some hair out of your face. “But the animals in the water? That’s where things get fun. Who knows what's down there or what things they can do; all of their anatomy is drastically different from one another's.” 

God, you were going on a rampage over here about the evolutionary aspects of aquatic life and he was just standing in front of you with a blank face, probably trying not to kill you or himself in the process. “You know you can walk away, yeah?” 

“I know.” 

Ooookaaayyy… You tried to figure out what his deal was, but the more you tried to analyze anything about him, like a possible glint in his eyes or the rigidity of his posture, the more you became confused. He wasn’t necessarily bored by you talking, but it hadn’t seemed like he was fully invested in it either. It wasn’t until he had spoken up again that you’d relaxed against the trunk of the tree with a delighted smile on your face. 

“I like them too.” That was all he said before he was walking off again to wherever he had been going before; most likely home, if you had to guess. 

It was a pleasant surprise to know he ‌shared an interest with you, but you didn’t think much of it since you were sure you weren’t going to be interacting with him again. 

So it came as another shock once again when he found you the next day under the same tree, this time during lunch, and had sat down without asking to pull out a bento box and began eating. You stared at him with your mouth open a little in pure baffled amusement as he stared back at you while he raised his chopsticks to his mouth, a tiny little sausage shaped like a squid caught between them. 

“Close your mouth,” he told you calmly before taking a bite of his food. 

“Don’t give me a reason to drop it in the first place, and I will. Also, what is that? A squid weenie?”

 Oh, you had a bit of a spicy side, didn’t you? 

“...good grief.” He shoved his hat down a little on his head before he resumed eating and as you started to dig into your own lunch, a pleasant silence settling itself over you both as you ate. The sort of silence that wasn’t awkward but also had the same delicacy that was easy to shatter if either one of you decided to throw out a comment that made it weird. Thankfully, neither of you had spoken up after that and got to enjoy your meals in relative peace before a group of girls found him and started gushing over him. 

You watched as that mess ended up with him grabbing his lunch and telling them to fuck off before he had to find somewhere else to eat because the yelling had only made them flush harder. 

Somehow, the next few days had consisted of you finding somewhere alone to eat with him trailing after you to avoid his persistent fangirls or to blow off some steam after an idiot decided that day was a good day to challenge him. 

“So,” you began, your voice a little muffled since you had a piece of chicken in your mouth, “why do you like marine life so much?” He had his jacket off today and had hung it off the side of the bench you were on because some asshat had thrown water on him, which ended in the guy being sent to the infirmary after Jotaro roughed him up. “To be honest, I don’t really like all marine life, but dolphins are neat. They’re intelligent and have a decent species diversity unlike some other creatures in the water; plus, their communication and social behaviors are unique and can vary from pod to pod.” 

“For a guy that had a personalized school uniform, I wouldn’t think dolphins were gonna be the soft spot for you.” 

“I already regret being here.” 

You laughed while taking a sip of your water, the cool liquid deciding to give you a middle finger as it went down the wrong pipe when you began to cough before ultimately calming down after a few minutes. You slammed your fist against your chest while he watched you get to actually breathe again. “Was that a joke?” 

He let out a small groan and chucked a piece of bread at you before he crossed his arms and decided taking a nap seemed better than eating. “Good grief.” You picked up the piece of bread and noted it was homemade before jamming it in your mouth and releasing a pleased hum. 

“Tell your mom this is good. I’ll pay her for a loaf if she’s the one who made it, and if not, give me her supplier; this stuff is seriously worth it.” He cracked his eye open for a split second before closing it again and falling asleep. Eh, worth a try. 

A few weeks had passed ‌since then, and you two had only grown closer in your small but shared time. Before, you were still on that weird cusp of not knowing what was too comfortable to do around him and what wasn’t, afraid that one wrong move would shoo him away and ruin the delicate progress you’d made with him. 

And the funny part? You wouldn’t have expected to care this much about your friendship with him because you were only prepared to have talked with him once and to have left it at that. Still, that was a few weeks ago, and now you were past the point of wondering if one wrongly placed dark joke would have him scampering off. 

Now, you were relaxing at his house while Mrs. Holly was kindly showing you her recipe book of things she’d been cooking for his school lunches since you’d fallen into a habit of robbing at least one thing from his bento each day. Weenie squids, chicken cutlets, a few things from American dishes she’d kept from home, etc., all of it had been quickly stolen from his lunch and ended up in yours. 

And speaking of American dishes, it was another nice surprise to see his mother was American herself, which allowed you to speak in such a quick manner that it had him feeling like the one left out of the conversations now. It got to the point where he had dragged you to his room mid–conversation with his mom and had left you there for a moment before coming back with a book on learning English for beginners. He sat down with a thud before shoving the book your way. 

“Teach me,” he demanded, grabbing a piece of paper and a pencil and also throwing those in your direction. 

You sighed and then laughed silently before letting out an ‘okay’. That afternoon, you spent it entirely on teaching him the basics of ‌English he had refused to learn from his mom, with him getting a good chunk of it down, and by the end of the week, he was already holding conversations down better than he had before with an air of cool efficiency. 

And to repay you, he had started teaching you how to speak Japanese better outside of school with more patience than you think you’d ever seen him give something. There was no getting upset when you couldn’t grasp something as quickly as he had, there was no ushering you into lesson after lesson with more than you could handle, and there was no pressure on you to pretend like you were comprehend things you weren’t in fear of being embarrassed. 

You were both simply existing in each other's presence and enjoying the relative calm that you brought to each other with the occasional banter or stupid moment in–between. 

Eventually, you had gotten to know a large majority of things about one another that no one else had known and had given privileges that nobody else would‌’ve been granted. Namely, you got to get your hands on that damn hat that was always glued to his head; the one that looked like it been fused into his hair and had meshed into his skull if that was even possible. 

He’d let you wear it when either he was at your house, or you were at his. One time, he had even let you wear his school coat when you complained about it being too cold while both of you worked on the sticker book with his hat also on your head. You’d felt like you were almost cosplaying as him, the thought making your eyes crinkle in amusement while he grumbled about how the glue was as shitty as the accuracy of the animals in the book. 

Another privilege he granted you was letting you sleep on him whenever you wanted, as long as no one was around to see it. He’d let you lounge against his shoulder in the school courtyard if it was dead after hours, or he’d let you flop on top of him to take a nap if he was reading a book on plankton in his room. If you were lucky, he’d read it to you in that monotone voice you’d come to associate him with as he flipped page after page. 

So one day, when Holly had knocked on your residence to tell you Jotaro had been thrown into jail, you were worried to say the least—both you and her rushing down to the station to visit him. When you got there, you were told you would need to wait to see him, so you did. And after an hour, you were finally allowed to see him, but by the time that had happened, his actual grandfather had shown up out of nowhere with another uniquely dressed man by his side, telling you and Holly to step back. 

Queue that entire interaction to Jotaro finding out about the origins of his bloodline and weird things called Stands while his mother fell into a sickly fever as her own developed. From then on out, he had been attacked by another new student by the name Kakyoin, saved him, and had then needed to go on an insane trip with his newly formed group to rat out an evil man known as Dio. 

You tried to go with him, you really did, but you didn’t have a stand, nor did you have any sort of training in any field that would’ve allowed you to help in any way. You were essentially dead weight that wasn’t needed for a mission that perilous, so without anything else to do to help, you promised to take care of Mrs. Holly for him while he was gone. 

“I know you’re probably going to find some nasty stuff out there, but at least try not to get monumentally pissed off by random people.” You were both standing off to the side in the front yard of his house while everyone else was preparing to leave. 

He gave you a look that ‌said, ‘really? You want me off all people to try that?’. 

“No promises.” 

You groaned and jabbed him in the side before he smacked your hand gently, which led you two to start a mini scuffle of play fighting until his name had been called by Mr. Joestar and Avdol. You stared at him for a second before kicking the side of his foot to make him look at you.

“Good grief?” you asked him with a tilt of your head.

He cracked one of the smallest smiles at that and tugged his hat down, which you now knew he did when he wanted to hide his emotions away from others, like how he was trying not to show anyone how that comment had made him light up. 

He nodded. “Good grief.” 

He motioned you to follow him so you could at least watch as they all left for the airport. Once everyone was ready and packed, they all got into the sleek, black car parked out front. You were about to give the car a wave goodbye when a window rolled down and Jotaro stuck his head out of it, pulling something plastic and shiny out of his pocket to wiggle it in the air. 

You squinted your eyes before you realized what it was. 

It was the last goddamn sticker you were planning to put on the book after he had left so you could start the new one you’d bought while he was gone. 

“Y–You! Jotaro! That’s my fucking dolphin sticker, hey—!” You were about to march up to the window, but the car had taken off before you could, along with the last sticker. “You better guard that thing with your life,” you screamed at the car as it drove off, throwing up a middle finger while you were at it. 

Right after, your phone buzzed in your pocket. ‘I’m naming the dolphin Finn. He’ll be back before you know it.’ Of course he would name it something with so little effort. You rubbed your forehead before another buzz went off. ‘Keep my mom safe.’ 

Your shoulders slumped while a sad smile made its way to your face. 

‘You got it, JoJo.’ You clicked send. 

A few weeks later, he returned. As promised, you had kept Mrs. Holly as healthy as you could, maintaining her physical state and ensuring she was comfortable at all times and talking to her when she was awake. 

He’d told you about everything that had happened: about Kakyoin, Iggy, and Avdol, about the enemy stand users, about Dio, about everything. All you could do was brew him some tea while he spilled everything that had been eating away at his mind during the trip but had been buried to remain focused in the moment. 

And at the end, you wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug before he fell asleep on you for the first time instead, a tiny crinkle coming from his pocket. 

When both of you had woken up the next day, hair all tussled and dark circles under both of your eyes, he’d dragged you to sit on the floor of his room before telling you to hold out your hand. 

“If this is some weird shit you brought back, I’m punching you. No regret.” 

“Didn’t I just come back?” Your eyes were closed, so you couldn’t see him, but you could hear him directly in front of you. 

“My point still stands.”

He hummed before dropping something flimsy into your waiting palm. When you opened your eyes, you were met with Finn, who had seen better days and almost looked more pitiful than both of you combined. You smiled widely and stood up to grab the sticker book that had been waiting this entire time before plopping down again and handing it to him. 

“It only seems fair to let you have the honors on this one.” He snorted softly but hadn’t refused, grabbing the tiny sticker and peeling back the film before placing it delicately in its designated spot. 

Finally, after all this time, it was complete. It left you feeling conflicted somehow, like you had just watched the ending of a series you’d been working on over the course of months and didn’t know how to feel now that it was all done with no more movies coming after to continue it. You got the feeling he was also coming to the same conclusion you were based off how hard he was staring at the silly page of crudely drawn animals that resembled animal crackers more than anything. 

Good thing you came prepared. 

You walked over to your bag and got out a new sticker book; this time its theme being planets and space. He let out a drawn out sigh, like he couldn’t believe you had that on standby. 

Still, you both lay down on the floor and worked on it anyway until you decided breakfast sounded more enticing, and after that, life went on like usual as you and him slowly slipped into normalcy again, going back to your usual bullshit as close friends. You knew he would never really be the same after all of that, but you would still be there for him through it all. 

°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡

BONUS!

Platonic!Jotaro, who would bitch about being sent to the store to buy you things that you were craving, like a specific brand of potato chips, but doing it anyway. He’d even glare at some poor stranger if they were holding the last bag of it as if buying it would be the worst mistake they’d ever make in their entire life. Then, he’d buy it and bring it to you and present it like some hard won prize that took at least 4 years off of his life.

Platonic!Jotaro, who would drag you to Morio almost a decade later to have you be his second pair of eyes and ears because he knew you were smart and could help him track down a stand arrow. Tea time and brunches becoming your new usual as you enjoyed your time there when you both weren’t actively working on the lurking issues in a seemingly quiet town. 

Platonic!Jotaro, who would call you frantically with you thinking he was actually dying in real time, only to tell you he had found the most exquisite species of starfish on the shoal and wanted you to come down to show you. And once you’d gotten there, he’d drag you by the sleeve of your shirt into the water and through the rocks to present the ugliest starfish you think you’d ever seen with it still somehow becoming the new focus of the thesis he was working on. 

Platonic!Jotaro, who would introduce you to Josuke and then immediately regret it once he realized you and Josuke shared the same level of fuckery and couldn’t do anything to stop it. So now, he found himself on weird ass side quests that definitely didn’t require his presence but had gone anyway because he knew you guys were two peas in a pod. 

Platonic!Jotaro, who would deadpan at you when you asked him to use Star Platinum to do tasks you could easily do yourself, like putting together a piece of furniture you had gotten Koichi because some of his got broken in a stand battle. That, or asking him to have Star Platinum stop time so he could reappear somewhere like an inside magic joke between you two as you tried to mentally predict where he would end up. You couldn’t even see stands for crying out loud, but watching you get entertainment from watching random items float in front of you was enough of a motivator to do it regardless. 

Platonic!Jotaro, who would be there for you when you got shot by the stand arrow you had been so painstakingly tracking for the last few weeks, getting you pain meds, blankets, another sticker book, etc. He’d become furious on your behalf as he watched you suffer the same illness you’d helped his mother go through as your stand manifested in real time. 

Platonic!Jotaro, who would help you control your new stand ability and help you learn everything he had learned, starting from the moment he had been tossed in jail while you stared at him from the other side of the bars. All the secrets he had learned would become yours to share because he trusted you that much and because you were the one person who mattered just as much to him as Jolyne did—the one friend who had been there for him since before he had developed a stand. 

Platonic!Jotaro, who speaking of Jolyne, would watch in heart–melting content as you played with her on the rare occasions he could visit her. He’d join in too, letting Jolyne decorate you both in questionable makeup styles with varying shades of green all over your faces. You’d both turn to each other and have to sit there and not laugh at how deplorable your looks had become with splotchy, sticky children's makeup lathering your skin. 

Platonic!Jotaro, who would stand by your side as you both got back to reality and tracked Kira down with the accuracy of a trained bloodhound, never failing to be there with you as you and everyone else you’d come to call family faced the dangers of it all. He’d watch as you grew into your stand and used it to save others before ultimately helping take down Kira, only for him to slip away under a new man’s face/name. 

Platonic!Jotaro, who after the events of Morio, would take you back with him and Mr. Joestar to continue life as it had been while making sure you know he’s always a phone call away now that you’ve been exposed to the dangers of stands attracting other stands. 

Platonic!Jotaro, who ends up calling you instead to tell you that he needs an extreme favor from you and Koichi to visit Italy and get data on one of Dio’s sons, Giorno Giovanna. He’d stay up more often than not, waiting for something from either one of you to let him know that all his worrying was for nothing and that Giorno was more like Jonathan rather than Dio. And when you did call him to tell him Giorno would be just fine, only then would he ease up. 

Platonic!Jotaro, who would listen to you tell him all about Italy and how Giorno was a slippery one but had a good heart regardless. He’d make a questionable face when hearing about the kid’s hairstyle. Also, how you’d learned he was going to reshape Italy for the better through means you never really questioned, but you had gotten enough of an implication to know what he was going to do. 

Platonic!Jotaro, who was comforted by you years later when he’d learned his daughter was thrown into jail, just like him. So together, you would head to Florida to see his daughter and so that Jolyne could see you, her unofficial Auntie. 

Platonic!Jotaro, who felt the combination of horror, grief, hope, worry, relief, and faith seeing you with Jolyne in that prison as his vision faded out of existence when his memory and Stand got removed. From that moment on, he’d have no idea of the work and sacrifice you’d put in for him to keep his daughter safe, even if it meant getting thrown into prison yourself. Every action of yours was with purpose and familial love, fighting for a fate that was trying to be forcefully shaped for all of humanity, not willing to extinguish the fight that had built up in you over time. 

Platonic!Jotaro, who would feel the relief of it all seeing you and Jolyne in that cursed space station, all bloodied up and scarred several times over. Thankfully, all of you would be able to walk out of there alive and see the light of day again until death actually earns you. The only annoying thing actually resulting from that whole ordeal being the cotton candy pinkie pie man hounding him over Jolyne’s hand in marriage while also simultaneously seeking your approval as well because you were one of Jolyne’s closest family members. 

Platonic!Jotaro, who is thankful you’re by his side as you help him mend the relationship between him and Jolyne, creating opportunities for them to bond and talk it all out, only to realize she had come to understand why he did what he did and that she wasn’t as out of reach as he had thought. He’d call you that night saying it was the first time he had been able to hug her since she was a little girl and that he couldn’t even explain to you what he felt knowing you had risked everything just so he could experience that moment with her. 

Platonic!Jotaro, who would still put up with your weird sticker bullshit even at the age of 50, Star Platinum even popping out to help with the book that Jolyne had gifted to you for your birthday. Hell, even Emporio and Anasui had helped out from time to time when they were at your house for whatever. At this point, it was more than known that your house was the designated hangout spot for everyone because the vibe it carried was so warm and welcoming that it was inescapable. So now, when everyone is settled down in Florida and can actually relax a little knowing there’s a community of you guys, he’s a little less opposed to the fact that Anasui did actually manage to catch Jolyne’s eye. Stubborn Bastard. 

Platonic!Jotaro, who watches everyone at the beach doing their own activities and thinks that maybe he could get used to this—that every single moment of struggle that you’d all faced had finally paid off. He’d tilt his hat down and decide this is a good moment for a nap as you lounged against him, like you’d fallen into the habit of doing all those years ago while reading that thesis he wrote on the starfish you still think is fugly, simply because you got bored. 

Still, if anyone had asked him if he would do it again knowing this is where life would lead him, with his best friend still by his side and his family enjoying a day under the sun, he’d say yes in a heart beat. 

Omg... I just checked it, and you were so right. I'm actually rolling on the floor OIEONIDGSONGHVOIEN

I can't even tell you how fast I turned off all the "exclude your blog" thingies... I OWE U EVEN MORE NOW 🙏🙏🙏🙏

The post that was SUPPOSED to have been seen lmao -> Gyro/Fem!Reader nsfw

Anon, of course you can get some good ol smut!! I hope it ended up being at intimate as you wanted, and also, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE REQUEST!! (and for reading my work on ao3 <3)

I was super excited to see that someone had finally put in a request in my inbox 😭😭😭

*ੈ 🫙⸝⸝🥒✩‧₊˚

Pairing: Gyro Zeppeli/Fem!Reader smut (18+ MDNI)

Word Count: 4615

CW: piv, smut, swearing, oral fem receiving, soft hair pulling

When Gyro had told you he was leaving Naples to go join a race in America for an amnesty, you thought he was joking. You’d both been together for a while now, him trusting you with his entire past and future, so to hear him say he was leaving just like that put a pang of worry in your heart, to put it mildly.

You knew everything about him; you knew about his ‘job’, about his conflicting views with his father, about the spin, all of it, which is also why you knew that he was bound to do some reckless shit in America to secure that amnesty for Marco. So without any hesitation at all, you joined him.

At first, he shot it down immediately, too concerned for your safety because it was more than likely that assassins were going to be sent after him, seeing as he was a main target if people wanted to hurt Naples. You didn’t budge. Instead, you had only doubled down on your being there in case something like that happened. You were aware you didn’t have the level of medical training he did, but he had taught you things behind his father’s back, like how to do perfect sutures or how to stop bleeding with a wide variety of items.

It was enough of a point where he understood where you were coming from and that if he were in your shoes, he wouldn’t want to be without you either.

So now, when both of you are somewhere in the snowy forests of Wisconsin with Johnny and have been attacked by countless stand users, you knew you made a good call. Time and time again you’ve had to drag them both from the claws of death and administer quick aid with their blood on your hands since they were either unresponsive or didn’t have enough energy to do it themselves.

Thankfully, it's been about two weeks since the last time you've had to do anything like that. Now you’re all just hunkering down to go to bed in an hour with Gyro talking to Johnny about one of the dishes from your homeland with the man calling it culinary propaganda.

“Johnny, hot dogs skewered on pasta definitely do not count as an edible dish. To even argue that is like trying to say those pretend meals that kids make out of mud serve as something from a five–star restaurant.” You watched as Gyro waved his hands around, explaining the true way of meals to Johnny—who was slurping down the soup you’d all made—but not really convinced Gyro’s cuisine was better than his good ‘ol struggle meals.

You slapped a hand to your forehead; it was way too cold for this. “Gyro, let Jo eat his soup,” you smiled and laughed softly to yourself when he turned with sudden interest after hearing your voice. Johnny blinked at you and shot you a look that said, ‘I owe you one’, as he continued to scarf down his meal in peace now. “Come over here; I’m cold.”

Johnny paused his eating. “Aren’t you wearing both his and your own blanket?” You blew a raspberry and waved your hand in the air. “Irrelevant.” He snorted.

Still, Gyro didn’t need to be told twice and had gotten up from his spot near the tents with Johnny and walked over to where you were by the fire. He plopped down and took you in his arms immediately, setting his weight on top of you until you both fell over, his head now squished under your chin. “Damn it, you’re heavy!” Despite your bickering, you pulled him closer anyway as he let out a content sigh.

You both stayed cuddled up for a while before Johnny announced he was going to bed and retreated into his tent. He opted to place it on the other side of camp from yours and Gyro’s since Gyro’s snoring always managed to wake him up. Consequently, it was always made known to you that he was baffled about how you could sleep through all of that. You just told him you got used to it over a while and that it's more like white noise now.

“Can I show you something?” You perked your head up to look at him on your chest, a little confused. He seemed excited to show you whatever he had in mind, so you agreed without really thinking of it. After you agreed, he clambered off ‌you and helped you to stand up with him before picking up his blanket and wrapping it snugly around your frame.

“Where are we going?” He didn’t say anything and had just motioned for you to follow him, so you did. You both walked through the forest for about five minutes until you reached a soft clearing with something in the middle that made your eyes widen with wonder.

There, in the center of the snow–frosted grass, sat a giant willow tree that had turned completely white because of the changing seasons; the long drapes of its leaves looking like something straight out of a fairytale or one of those limited edition Christmas papers you’d seen at the race checkpoints.

It was breathtaking.

“Come on, the inside is even better.” He intertwined his fingers with yours and led you to the tree, parting its grand foliage and ushering you into its safety. All he did was point upward and, needless to say, he was right. Even though most of the albino leaves were covering the roof of the makeshift cave, you could see the stars peeking between the open spots—glimmering like rhinestones in the sky and blinking in that soft way that caused you to feel like nothing on earth could reach you and Gyro in this moment. Almost as if you were the only people on the planet, surrounded by nothing except nature's beauty and love.

But as you were occupied with the view, Gyro was admiring his own, simply watching you as your eyes lit up with astonishment. A delicate look fell over his features as he took in the gentle smile that graced your lips or the way tiny flakes of snow decorated your hair, putting everything else to shame.

“Julius,” you whispered, still dazed by the serenity of it all, “how did you find this…? It’s wonderful.” You’d only called him by his real name in private, but fuck, if it didn’t sound like honey on your tongue every time you said it. “Passed it on the way when I was out getting firewood.”

You were about to say something about how lucky he was to stumble across this place, but before you could, he ‌suddenly crowded your space while settling his hands onto your waist.

When you looked at his face, you were met with the pure, unadulterated look of shameless need. “Julius…?” He shoved his hands a little higher under your shirt, now resting on your ribs.

“Please,” he mumbled, “please let me touch you.” His face was close to yours now, your breaths coming out in short puffs as they clouded up in the frigid air. You looked into his eyes through your thick lashes and reached a hand up to take his hat off, short mussed bangs revealing themselves before you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Tesoro, you’re killing me.” His head fell onto your shoulder as he stayed there without moving. You huffed out a tiny laugh while he grumbled. He always took your consent very seriously since you were the first person to actually respect his own, supporting him in his endeavor to get his father to see that all he wanted was consent when it came to executing.

“Touch me.”

As soon as you said that, his lips were all over your neck, kissing where your pulse was before sucking harshly on the skin there. Yeah, that was gonna leave a mark. Still, he really didn’t care and was still lavishing the column of your throat in loving bites while pressing his mouth to every single piece of skin he could reach.

You shuddered; it wasn’t enough. So you buried the hand that didn’t have his hat into his hair and guided his head to your mouth before gingerly slotting your lips against his own, a small moan trapping itself in his throat. “C–Cara,” he tried to get out, but you had ‌tugged him back to your mouth, slotting your tongue against his own as he tried to control himself.

“Promise to keep me warm if I take all this off?” You tugged the front of your shirt as you dropped his hat to the ground before laying down the blanket on the thinly iced grass and getting on it.

“I promise, and if I fail, you can personally feed Valkyrie twice the amount of sugar cubes she’s supposed to get.” You smiled warmly at him, and truthfully, that was all he needed to not feel the cold creeping in on his skin as he removed his signature purple shirt. But who was he to say anything if he got the opportunity to love you like this?

You pulled your thick shirt off your head and placed it next to his hat before you went to remove your pants, but a heated hand stopped you as it wrapped around your wrist. “Can I?” You paused before nodding at him.

Even though this wasn’t the first time you both had done this, it still made you flustered to see how enamored of you he could get, like no amount of treasure could convince him to even entertain the thought of giving you up.

Rapidly you were brought back to reality when he hooked a finger into the front of your pants and began to slowly pull them down. Once they were removed, he got down on his stomach while pressing more kisses into your thighs, slowly trailing them up your skin.

You watched him lift one of your legs to place it over his shoulder before he started lapping at your clothed pussy, dampening the fabric there.

“Fuck,” he groaned, clenching your thigh in his palm, “I can taste you through the damn fabric.” His hair fell over his face as he buried his head between your legs, continuing to run his tongue over your sex, only separated from him by a sheer cloth. You let out a shaky ‘mmnh’ as you watched him get more drunk on you, his face flushing a pretty shade of pink as he screwed his eyes shut in premature bliss.

You could feel him grinding against the edge of the blanket as he subconsciously tried to get some relief but hadn’t really bothered focusing on it since he had you right below him.

You pushed his head away, causing him to let out a tiny whine of refusal before he saw you taking your panties off and baring your exposed cunt to him. “So pretty…” he breathed out and wrapped his arms around your middle to hold you still.

The first slow lap of his tongue had you already burying your hand into his sun–kissed tresses and tugging just enough to make his hips jerk without causing his scalp any pain. “S–Shit,” you swore, each drag of his wet tongue against you causing your mind to fog up in numb pleasure. You were positive you weren’t gonna last that long if he kept at it like that, but seeing him enjoy eating you out this much was causing a feral lust to wash over you.

He wasn’t just doing it for your sake, no. He was thoroughly enjoying this as much as you were; his chin and cheeks covered in slick while his eyebrows furrowed in rapt devotion, worshipping you with every lick and fiber of his being.

“(y/n),” he panted, your name spilling from his lips like a prayer on repeat, shoving his tongue into you before adding two of his fingers, curling them up and causing you to writhe on the blanket, but his arms continued to hold you down as you did so. You habitually threw your arm over your mouth, but he immediately bit your thigh when you did.

“Need to hear you, please… Don’t cover your mouth, Tesoro.” You let out a choked whine as you forced your hands to grab his own that were locked around your belly. Immediately, he resumed lapping at your pretty folds before worming his way up and taking your clit in his mouth and giving it a suck. Your leg kicked out at the sudden shock running through your lower half, his name falling sweetly from your mouth.

“M’close,” you admitted.

He took one of your hands and shoved it back into his hair as his eyes met yours—his pupils dilated so much that you might as well have been looking into tiny voids. “Tug my hair…?” God, even now he was so sweet. Always asking and never taking, even if he was definitely straining against his pants right now.

You nodded at him and dug your hand into his blonde hair, the thick strands coiling around your fingers. It had only taken a few more pumps of his fingers in you while busying his lips against your clit to have you moaning into the cold air and locking your hand in his hair and pulling with more strength than you had meant to. Regardless, it had him jerking against the blanket again while continuing to eat you out through your orgasm.

The overstimulation was both wonderful and torturous all at once. You had to physically pry him away from your folds before he caused you to make an even bigger mess on the blanket, one that probably would be a little harder to explain.

You didn’t think that saying you spilled a shit ton of water in the night on yourself was going to be a good excuse for why the garment had been drenched. Nor would it explain the sudden aversion you’d have to getting the damp part on anything else if it was just water.

You sighed in content, but you weren’t about to leave Gyro unattended like that. Really, you didn’t want to either. Something about seeing him look so thoroughly needy caused you to clench on nothing but air. The wetness down his face, the ruined lipstick, and the tussled hair—all of it had him looking more fucked out than normal.

He wiped his face off on a tiny section of the blanket before making his way up to your face and going straight for your lips, the taste of yourself evident on his tongue, but you didn’t care and wrapped your arms around his neck to bring him closer to you. Eventually, he had just given up on holding himself up and collapsed on top of you.

And Oh.

…oh.

He must’ve been really struggling, because as soon as he had done that, you were greeted with a very prominent bulge against your thigh. You tried to shift against him so you could take off his pants, but the subtle friction against his covered dick had a sharp whimper coming out of him. His whole body had twitched when you’d done that, and if both of those things weren’t bad enough, when he let you remove his pants with a pull of a zipper and the snap of a button, there was a very prominent wet patch on the front of his boxers.

You didn’t even get the chance to go for his underwear when he’d grabbed your hand with his own warm one and guided it down to rest over his bulge softly. His head fell against your covered breasts as he sucked in a quick breath, his erection twitching against your palm as he held your hand there.

You gave him a squeeze while moving your lips to kiss his neck as he had done to you, smearing your lipstick against his tanned skin; both of you wearing each other’s look now. His response?

A full–body keen.

His legs shaking with a barely contained orgasm, chest heaving up and down on top of you, voice laced with absolutely nothing pure. You wanted to wrap your lips around him like he had done for you, but now you didn’t think he was going to make it that long if you did.

So you pulled his head up a little while he looked at you confused. “Am I too heavy? Sorry, I know you were complaining about that earlier.” He moved to push himself up more, but you grabbed him before he could fully retreat. “Baby, no, I just need to take my bra off.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, Oh.” You smiled at him as he gave you a sheepish one back. “Help me?” He gave you a kiss on the cheek before reaching around and unclipping the pesky thing. Seriously, who even designed these things anyway? You sighed in relief but shivered a little now that your boobs had been exposed to the nippy air. Seeing you cold, Gyro breathed into his hand before rubbing them together for some friction and laying them gingerly against your chest.

You closed your eyes and hummed before cracking an eye open and slyly rubbing your hand against his erection, bringing both your attentions to the ache going on in his boxers. “Ready?” You asked him while tucking some of his hair behind his ear. “Ready.”

He let you pull his underwear down until he could kick it off, the piece of clothing joining the other ones that were strewn out across the blanket.

Once they were off, he grabbed your legs and threw them over his shoulders, not forgetting to kiss your ankle as he did so. “Tell me if anything hurts, Tesoro.” You nodded and let him manhandle you a little more so you were both comfortable before he started to slowly push in. Thankfully, you were already loose enough that he could go a decent amount in before your pelvic floor muscles squeezed him in a tiny shout of protest.

He leaned down and kissed the top of your breast in understanding, waiting for you to tell him it was okay to go further. You let out a shaky exhale. No matter how much he prepped you each time, you always had to take it slow when he got to actually fucking you, since he was just that well endowed.

His dick was probably around five inches soft and seven when fully erect; a stunning bronze color decorating the shaft, which reminded you of lattes he claimed to hate, with the tip being just a drop darker. It was salivating to look at, to say the least, and the best part? It was all yours.

When he had finally bottomed out after a few minutes, his brows pinched together as he bit his lip before taking one of your nipples in his mouth to give him something to do. You let out a strangled groan and pushed his head further into your cleavage as he began to thrust in short, deep bursts.

“Gyro–” you choked out while one of his hands lowered your left leg from his shoulder so he could bring it up to knead your other boob without squishing you into a panini press. But as soon as he heard you say his alias, he stopped shoving himself against you and looked into your eyes with full–blown lust. “Not that one,” he huffed out, a sheer coat of sweat clinging to his skin.

“Julius,” you breathed out, not having realized your mistake.

Humming contentedly, he slammed his hips against yours, both of your bodies shifting upwards on the blanket. A surprisingly high pitched moan left his mouth before he began to smear whatever lipstick was left on his lips onto your collarbones as he tried to bring his head to your heart.

Little ‘ah, ah, ah’s leaving his mouth with every thrust into you. And to be completely honest, it wasn’t like he was trying to be so loose–lipped, but seeing you so beautiful beneath him was causing every nerve in his body to throb with a fervor he didn’t know existed. Every pulse in his body caused a concerning amount of blood to rush to his dick as he basked in your warmth and love.

God, he’d do anything for you. If you asked him to fetch you a drink, he’d come back with the most exquisite thing he could find. If you asked him to take your share of the chores because you were too tired to set up camp, he’d have it done in minutes so you could rest easier. Even if you asked him to be your personal punching bag because someone pissed you off, he’d let you batter him up while saying thank you the whole time.

Nothing was too much to ask for, and no price was too much to pay, not if the reward was you. And he didn’t even mean physically. Sure, the sex was great, but getting to come home to your smiles and jokes was a heaven on its own that rivaled the one they preached in religions or the bible.

All that to say, sue him if he can't help but let out broken moans into the side of your neck.

“(y/n), m–mmnh,” he hissed, trying to form some sort of sentence to warn you he was nearing his end. “I–hah–M’close.”

You dropped your head against the blanket as you squeezed dangerously around him, not faring much better than he was. “Fuuck, me too…” You felt him speed up while his calloused thumb began to rub tiny concentric circles into your clit. You squirmed under him while he pressed you down with his entire body, your hands coming around his neck while he brought his head up to rest his forehead against yours.

Every twitch inside you from his cock was hitting right against your g–spot, making a thin collection of tears dot your lower lash line. Regardless, you still looked like a god to him, and if his devotion to you in this moment was any sort of proof, he hoped you wouldn’t mind him being your most loyal worshipper until the day you die.

“Juuuliuss—” You tried to warn him, but the constant attention on your clit wasn’t letting you get a word out. All too quickly, warmth exploded in your lower abdomen, with your muscles locking up and spasming, following that familiar clench and release. Furthermore, your vision was swimming as your eyes fluttered shut, your lashes fanning out against your skin while you waited for the stars behind your eyelids to wash away so you could look at your handsome boyfriend.

However, a deep groan caused you to open your eyes much sooner as the overstimulation consumed your nerves. “Can I kiss you? Please let me kiss you… Need it so bad.” He was rambling now, the rhythmic squeezing sending him so close to being over the edge, but he wanted your lips on his way too much as he slammed his pelvis against yours.

“I’m all yours,” you whispered against his lips.

He whimpered.

And not a moment after did he slot his lips with profound yearning against yours, his tongue swiping against ‌your lips, asking for entry. You cradled his cheeks and let him lick into your mouth before he did one last press of his dick into you before a sticky heat filled you.

You let out a satisfied moan against his mouth as he stilled on top of you. He held the kiss for a few more seconds before he brought his head away from yours to admire you, smiling softly with a look of love painting his entire features, but most notably in his eyes. The corners of your mouth turning upwards as you stroked his cheek gently with him leaning into it.

“I love you, Tesoro, more than I can tell you in words,” he said as he kissed your wrist.

“Y’know,” you started, “I don’t think there was ever a day that I questioned if it was worth it all, if it was worth us. Every bad day, every good day, even the days where we both wanted to disappear off the planet; through every one, I kept thinking—this is the person I want to know.” He stared at you before he began rapidly blinking, trying to will the fuzzy tears blurring his eyes at your confession. “You were the person I wanted to know. So, I love you too, Julius.”

He closed his eyes and pressed a saccharine kiss to your cheek while you wiped away his tears. Afterward, you both stayed there until the cold was noticeable again, with him carefully pulling out of you before collecting your clothes and getting dressed again.

Everything needed a wash again, but it was worth it.

You were just about to start walking back to camp, but he had picked you up bridal style and had started carrying you as he gave you a signature ‘Nyo Ho!”. You leaned against him as he took you both back, and when you were home, you both settled into your shared tent with a new blanket lying over your forms as he snuggled into your arms.

Finally, you closed your eyes as you both drifted off, the soreness in your lower half becoming nothing but a buzz as you fell into a blissful sleep with the other half of your soul resting right next to you.

────୨ৎ──── BONUS!

You grumbled as the glaring force of the sun washed over your eyes while something tiny pressed against your cheek.

“You guys suck at waking up. I already have breakfast going, and Tusk is gonna start getting fussy if he doesn’t get his scraps. Ain’t that right, Tusk?” You heard a ‘Chimimi!’ get let out right next to your ear as you cracked your eyes open.

There, trying to shake you awake with his tiny hands, was Tusk, an impatient wiggle of his ears signaling he was waiting for you to feed him like you’d been doing since the start of his manifestation.

You groaned and gave the little cutie a scratch on the chin as Johnny complained outside ‌the tent about it tickling. “Gyro,” you rolled over and patted your hand around until it landed on his face as a deep snore came out of him. “Tusk, wake him up.”

The stand gave you a salute and immediately launched himself full force into Gyro’s stomach.

“Fuck! Okay, okay! I’m up!” He rubbed his stomach after being jolted awake while you laughed at the scene. “Jo’s got breakfast going. Oh, and we slept in, so don’t be long.”

“I wonder why,” he teased. You snorted and smacked his arm before both of you followed your morning routine. When you were done, you both joined Johnny, who was peeling some oranges by the extinguished fire. You thanked him as he handed you a share of the food.

You leaned against Gyro as he sat down and as Tusk wormed his way into‌ your lap to demand a slice of orange. So, you picked up a slice and handed it to him as he grabbed it hungrily, returning to Johnny’s side before hiding himself from view and most likely jamming it into his face. How on earth Tusk even ate anything without a mouth is a mystery you’ll never know.

But as you sat there enjoying a meal with the closest people to you, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t mind this life.

(Johnny Joestar x reader x Gyro Zeppeli)

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Eventually, a few nights had passed while you all continued on your journey to Kansas City. It should’ve felt like any other time you all had been travelling, but between the weight of two corpse parts, ‌the Vatican, and various stand users probably waiting for you, relaxing was something that just kept slipping through your fingers. Each time you had tried to let Evernight carry your weight for you and follow Valkyrie or Slow Dancer, you were sharply reminded that the government was out there looking for the three of you right now; hunting you down for trying to intercept them from getting the corpse parts. 

Why does everything have to be so complicated? Everyone's got their panties in a twist over magical limbs that look like beef jerky, and I don’t even get the simplicity of a good sleep schedule because of it. 

You rubbed your head as you sulked on Evernight over the various injustices that you’d had to face; namely the hygienic and physical losses you’d suffered, like actual showers or a proper bed. Lord knows you’d give up a good chunk of whatever you had on you to not sleep on a bedroll for one night that ends up getting flipped inside out from all the turning you do trying to find a good sleep position. 

You weren’t even going to ruminate on Gyro’s horrid snoring that starts and stops throughout the night like a poorly functioning waterwheel. You’d learned to tune it out for the most part anyway, the noise becoming more of a white background than the REM sleep ruiner it used to be. 

You smiled faintly to yourself, remembering how you used to kick Gyro in your sleep from your spot a few feet away in an attempt to stop his snoring. He would stop too, giving you false hope for a good night's rest before revving up again and going back to the repetitive cycle of keeping you up. 

It used to be annoying, but now you’d begun to see it as something uniquely associated with him, even though millions of men snored throughout the night. Probably because you hadn’t ever slept near a man in your entire life, you reasoned, but still. As for Johnny, he was able to sleep perfectly through Gyro’s incessant noises like a trained marine in a barracks. 

Thankfully, he himself didn’t snore like Gyro did. Instead, he was a quiet sleeper who sometimes mumbled things while he was out, his tongue swiping over his dry lips unconsciously when he did. On nights when he seemed to have unpleasant dreams, he would fidget under the blanket of his bedroll, trying to roll over but failing because of his paralysis. 

The only reason you knew he did that was because Tusk had woken you up one night by shaking your face with worried ‘chimimi’s falling out of him. You had wondered why he came to you when he started floating back to Johnny and hovering over his user’s body. It was then that you saw Johnny covered in a thin layer of sweat, with his jaw tense and eyes shut tight, lying in a position that couldn’t have been good for his circulation. 

You’d crawled over to him then and repositioned him softly while tucking him back under his covers and getting back into yours once he didn’t look so stressed out. Tusk had given you an appreciative chirp and went back into Johnny’s arm soon after. Your mind had wondered what he was dreaming about that would put him in such a state, but you hadn’t questioned him about it when morning came, nor did you tell him that you’d seen and soothed him under the stars. 

That was a few nights ago, and he’d been sleeping better ever since. 

Now, you were all riding through a sparse forest with a river you could see ahead. Trees flanked you on all sides, but they weren’t dense like they had been ‌in the earlier weeks of the race. They had hardly any leaves near the ground and contained most of them in the upper sections of their branches, clumped together like cotton candy. A lime green tint colored their leaves in the shape of almonds while the tree itself had a milk chocolate color. Besides that, there were the same species of shrubs littered around the crumbly dirt ground that looked a little prickly. 

As you got closer to the river, the space opened up to reveal a tiny shoreline with reeds sprinkled around the bend. A few animals were drinking from the river itself: squirrels, deer, some birds, and even a mother duck and her ducklings were enjoying the reprieve the water was offering them. Their movements caused ripples in the water as they submerged their bodies in the glinting water. You smiled softly. 

You also couldn’t forget the smell; crisp air and the scent of cut grass filled your nostrils every time you took a deep breath in, most likely from the wildlife chewing on it. A hint of petrichor lingered in the air as well, which had been a result of the previous rainfall the other day. Seeing something peaceful at last was nice after the dark mental cloud you had all been under for the past few days.

It was so vastly different from the glimmering, gold fields you were used to, but it wasn’t an unwelcome change. You just wish you’d brought some sort of camera with you to take pictures for your mother so she could witness some beauties this race had hidden within it. However, that would’ve required you to give up way more space than you were willing to right now. 

The new video and photographic technology had been groundbreaking when it was invented, but because it was so new, most of the developments required tons of additional factors to even allow the machines to run. Cameras needed their camera stands and a good amount of time to process the photo after it was taken with special chemicals that were only found in towns or cities. The video camera also had intricate workings that required electricity and something to process the recordings after they were done. Overall, they were way too clunky to be worth it.

There was just too much to be carried around on you that you weren’t going to risk for the simple satisfaction of sending a photo home. Your ma would just have to be happy with postcards you sent from time to time, not that she would’ve been upset with not receiving more; she was a very grateful woman who had instilled good manners in you and respect at an early age. She wasn’t one to complain or be greedy when people couldn’t offer her more than they already had. 

You were positive she was content enough to know you were at least safe and not somewhere in a cold ditch. Photos didn’t mean anything to her in comparison to your well-being. You were confident in that. 

You continued to savor all the pleasant things that the flora and animals were offering around you until Gyro’s voice filled the subtle quietness. “I think we should get information from the Vatican.” You and Johnny craned your necks towards him when he said that. “What makes you say that?” Johnny asked from his spot on the left of you two. 

“I’m confident that even though they really want the corpse, they’re not gonna kill us over it. It goes against everything Christianity stands for; they wouldn’t be slaughtering people left and right in the name of Christ for his own corpse.” 

Johnny gave him a little bit of a skeptical look but didn’t have much to argue against. On the other hand, you still had a few questions. “Aren’t the church and state still combined entities though? I thought the Italian government continued to fund the clergy and had authority over the appointment of bishops; wouldn’t there be a possibility that the state would have it out for us?” 

He gave you a pleased but surprised look at the fact that you had some understanding of how the selection of church officials worked in his country. “Where’d you learn that from?” He pulled Valkyrie up next to you so that you and he were riding side by side while Johnny caught up, all of you forming a line. You started to dig out some snacks while you answered him. “Before my farm got shot in the foot, there used to be an immigrant man who only bought from us when he wanted cattle. Apparently he was from Italy and had moved here as soon as he had enough money to do so, saying he was tired of the instability of the church in Italy and wanted a fresh start under the American Constitution.” 

“Do you remember his name?” Gyro glanced at you with a mild look of interest. 

“No. He wouldn’t have been anyone you’d known, anyway. His job back in Italy wasn’t ‌political or tied to the church; if being a bread maker was his actual occupation.” You took a bite of the plum you’d gotten out and offered Johnny some, but he shook his head, still full from the large breakfast you’d eaten this morning. You shrugged; more for you. “He never had any injuries either and never got sick easily, so I doubt he was ever in your clinic. He was just your average law–abiding citizen who scorned politics in his mind and never talked about it with anyone in fear of getting put under the good ol’ tine.” He and Johnny gave you a confused look.

Gyro reached over and grabbed the plum from you and took a bite of it while you clarified yourself. “Guillotine.” You reached over and snatched your plum back and took a chunk out of it, which caused Gyro to grumble something about ‘plum dictatorships’.

“Oh.” Johnny rubbed the back of his head while Gyro continued to try to grab the plum back from you, accustomed to the means of death that you had mentioned. You realized that mentioning guillotines had little effect on Gyro because he had long been desensitized to them, unlike Johnny. But it was only for a moment before Johnny had already swept it under the rug. 

You swatted Gyro’s hands away from your food as you went to get him a snack of his own. “Was he right in that regard? Is the church actually that unstable, and what about my question before? Don’t answer my question with another question, or I’ll eat this.” You waved the crackers you got out from your bag before tossing a few to him. 

Gyro happily accepted the food and shoved a few in his mouth as he tried to talk, but it just sounded incoherent and all you got from him was the sound of crackers being chewed and the ruffling of the pouch they were in as he went to grab some more. 

Johnny deadpanned at him and let Tusk out to swipe the cracker pouch from him before having the pink stand shove them back in your bag. “At least finish the food before you try to speak, Gyro. You look like a damn pigeon with the crumbs in your beard.” Johnny chastised him a little more while Gyro’s mouth was still full about not being a pig while you just accepted the ‘random bullshit go’ aesthetic that always wormed itself into the conversations. 

Gyro finished up his crackers and swallowed loud enough that you and Johnny could both hear it. Johnny groaned. “This fuckin’ guy, I swear.” 

Gyro gave him a wide smile and leaned forward so he could see Johnny on your left side. “You could’ve asked for some if you wanted some.” 

“When did I say I wanted crackers? You’re the one turning into a whore for grains.” 

Gyro gave him a gasp and put a hand against his chest. “I’ll have you know that this grain whore is ever so graciously teaching you about his family’s secret technique that’s been passed down for generations.” Johnny huffed from his spot and took a cracker from your pouch before shoving it in his mouth and eating it unnecessarily loudly while giving Gyro the bird. 

You rubbed the bridge of your nose and slapped them both on the back of the head while Johnny yelled about being innocent. “You guys sidetrack too much. Gyro, the Vatican. Focus.” He wiped some crumbs from his beard before a serious look fell across his face. 

“Whatever guy was buying from your farm wasn’t in a high enough position to know what was going on in the background. He wasn’t wrong, but he also wasn’t right.” He sat back on Valkyrie a little bit and let his reins rest on his saddle. “When it comes to the church, there are levels to it. You have the churches that are for the common people, and then you have the churches that represent the aristocrats, and then finally at the top you have the ones that are for the king.” He started to turn around to find something in his saddlebag before pulling out a piece of paper and a pencil. 

He started to draw a triangle before placing three horizontal lines through it and creating four boxes that way. “Here,” he tapped the largest section at the bottom, “is where the local parishes are—the common folk churches. They’re easily influenced by money and can be swayed most of the time, but seeing as there are so many of them, their bad behavior doesn’t tend to get corrected as it should. The guy you knew was probably in a conflict with one of these.” 

Then, he moved one space up to the spot above. “Here’s where you would have the dioceses. The only difference between these and parishes is that the dioceses have appointed bishops with authority to oversee the church. That’s where the state comes into play as far as religion goes; to appoint bishops to the dioceses.” You and Johnny watched as he kept moving up the hierarchy triangle. “The second in rank is the archdiocese, larger regions that are managed by archbishops who coordinate multiple dioceses.” 

“At the very top you have the Vatican, which you both know about.” He circled the top of the triangle and tapped it with the tip of the pencil. “The higher you go, the more intense it gets, and the more restrictive it becomes. Corruption and bribery don't work at the top because of the nature of the Vatican and just how hyper–focused on the Bible it is.” He put the paper and pencil away. “Does that answer your question?” You nodded.

He was telling you that there’s not a chance the state could influence the Vatican to harm you all for the sake of the corpse because it goes against their own jurisdiction. “Yeah, it does. Thank you.” He gave you a smile and a tip of his hat. “At the next safe town we get to, I’ll send a letter to them asking about the identity of the corpse.” 

You and Johnny gave him a collective ‘alright’ and continued to move on, but Johnny had ridden up to Gyro’s side and caused you all to pause. “Hey Gyro?” Johnny looked towards Gyro, which caused him to stop in his tracks. 

“Yeah?” 

“Try not to eat all the carbs we got. Lord knows you need it the least.” 

Johnny smirked at Gyro before he sent Slow Dancer bounding forward. You watched Gyro’s jaw drop, completely baffled, before he gathered his reins in his hand and kicked Valkyrie to get her to gallop. “Aw, fuck you Johnny! Come back!!” 

Your eyes crinkled in amusement as you got out some more crackers to munch on while you enjoyed the show. If you didn’t get killed before the end of the race, these two were bound to take you out themselves. 

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈🗁⊹ ࣪ ˖ 

You all continued to travel for another two hours after the Great Cracker War of 1890. Who knew that the thin little discs of wheat could cause such a ruckus between two people? Truly, it was doing numbers in comparison to the Samoan Civil War that was happening overseas, because ah yes, how the deaths of hundreds of people compare to the civil injustices of baked flour, water, and salt. How ‌times have changed. 

You paused in your train of thought; a little bored from doing nothing but chowing down on the said devil crackers and watching nature pass. Seeing nothing better to do, you chucked a cracker at the back of Johnny’s head and watched as it flew through the air before thumping against his beanie and leaving a few crumbs in it. He whipped around while Tusk dove for the food before shoving it in his face and turning around—little crunching sounds coming from the stand. 

Did he even have a mouth? 

“The hell was that for?” Johnny gave you a look that said, ‘I’m waiting, go on’, but Gyro had made his way over to you before kicking your leg and eyeing the cracker pouch. You sighed, knowing what he wanted to do. Normally, you would’ve avoided him purposefully trying to rile up Johnny, but the boredom in yourself was causing the devil on your shoulder to win. You slyly slid him a cracker while Johnny continued to wait for an answer, but as he was, Gyro had pelted the cracker you gave him at the other blonde’s head. This time, your stand dove for the treat and ate it. 

“You guys are a buncha dicks,” Johnny complained as he was hit. “How long are we going to use our limited food for entertainment?” You and Gyro looked at each other before looking back at Johnny and giving him a shrug. 

Johnny was about to say something to you both, but he had stopped and pointed towards something in the distance. “Look! We’re getting close to Kansas City! The hot air balloons are circling now.” You looked to where he had gestured and indeed there were little dots of color speckled in the sky that indicated you were getting close to the finish line. However, that also meant you all needed to quit messing around and focus on the corpse parts. 

It seemed they both came to the same realization as their skin grew pale and the light in their eyes died down. Gyro waved you guys closer to him and covered his mouth as he spoke. “Being seen isn’t an issue right now, but being followed by those balloons is something we should avoid if we can. Them following us would be leading them straight to the corpse parts.” He paused. “We need to move through the trees. Also, when you talk, cover your mouth with your palm.” 

He demonstrated covering ‌his palm over his lips while giving enough room for sound to be heard from behind it. “Like this.” 

He gestured for you to do as he did, so you raised your hand to your mouth and covered your lips as you asked him a question. “Why are we doing this exactly? It’s not like there’s anyone around to hear us.” He looked at you and then back toward the balloons. “It’s lip–reading; we don’t want them to read our conversation from the sky. They teach it to us in the army and it’s not anything special, but those guys up there have been using it to write down what people are saying. That also means Steel is definitely working with the government.” 

Your eyes flickered to Gyro’s face while Johnny raised his palm to his mouth to speak. “Lucy’s husband?”

“Yeah. He’s the promoter of this whole race, and the president has publicly appeared with him multiple times while they worked together. I’m not sure Lucy is aware of what he’s doing, but we should also be careful of her too.” 

Isn’t she just 14 though? Why would the government have a 14 year old girl in the midst of this mess? They’ve been a pain in the ass this whole time, sure, but it would be completely unethical to throw someone her age‌ into this.

You all were about to cross another river when Gyro threw himself to the right on Valkyrie to get a better look at something. “Hey!” He pointed off to the side where you could see two familiar figures diving into the water. “Pocoloco’s here! Sandman’s coming too! Looks like we're somewhere towards the lead.” He wandered off towards them while you and Johnny stayed rooted in your spots. 

Your eyes clung to the way they both moved through the water, especially Sandman. Pocoloco was just cutting through the water without watching for anything around him and miraculously managing to avoid logs and slippery spots. Sandman, on the other hand, was frolicking through the water and diving underneath its surface to swim with the current rather than against it. 

When he emerged, the basil–colored portion of his hair was darker and reminded you more of algae than its regular lighter tone. The braids were also a little undone from being thrust underwater, but they hadn’t fallen out entirely. 

You also noticed for the first time that he had a tattoo on his left shoulder. It consisted of a red circle with spikes rimming the inside of it, while a green snake stood as the centerpiece. It was coiled tightly within the circle and sported its own diamond patterns on its back. 

“Hey, Sandman!” Gyro waved at the said man and made his way closer to the water. He had gotten a little farther away from you and Johnny, so you both decided to move a bit towards Gyro, but not close enough to shove yourselves into the direct line of attention. “We need to ask you something! Who’s in the lead right now, and have you seen Dio?” 

At the mention of Dio, Johnny perked up from beside you and quickly made his way over to where Gyro was. He stopped at the edge of the water and leaned forward so Sandman could hear him better. “You’re looking pretty good over there. I don’t think it would hurt you to tell us anything and we have a right to know what’s going on right now.” 

Sandman paused in the water, keeping himself afloat as he rotated his body to look at your group. Almost immediately, his eyes landed on you, but they had only stayed on you for so long before he turned his focus to Gyro and Johnny. “Is Dio your only rival? Actually, that doesn’t matter to me.” He treaded the water lightly while disturbing its surface as some fish swam underneath him. “I saw Dio’s tracks this morning, so he should be about an hour ahead of us. Regarding who’s in the lead, it would also be him since he took the route with fewer rivers.” 

He was about to turn around again, so you gave him a little goodbye wave without saying much else, but that action seemed to have caught his eye enough to give you all one more bit of information. “One other thing,” he began, “A storm is going to hit tomorrow. The last stretch of the race is going to be difficult; I hope you all make it through.” 

You were pleasantly surprised that he also shared all that information with you, since he had no true motivation to help you in the first place. You gave Sandman a grateful smile and took out a small bag from your pouch that had some dandelion roots in it. Afterward, you tied the bag to an arrow and shot it across the river so it lodged itself in the dirt. “Take those. It’s just some dandelion roots, but they make a good coffee if you boil them.” He gave you an unsure glance, probably worried that you had tainted them or something, but swam to the other side of the river and took them anyhow. 

You both made eye contact ‌for a few seconds—a sign of gratitude in his culture—before he ran off again to continue the race. 

Gyro and Johnny relaxed in their saddles after he left. “What was that about?” Johnny turned to you, most likely referencing how you handed over herbs to him. You tied up your hair as you had Ever step into the water. “He’s been kind to me since the start of the race and I have a fondness for natives for the help they’ve given my family in the past.” You patted your bow that you began to strap to Evernight. “I wouldn’t have this bow if it weren’t for them.” 

“Originally, it had been a gift from them to my grandpa, but he wasn’t one to touch bows. Pretty sure he just used bear traps and a pistol to take care of the vermin that broke through the fence on the farm. He stored it away in a shed and allowed me to use it when I was a little girl; since then, it's been strapped to me like a horseshoe on a hoof.” Your eyes closed in reminiscence while your features softened under the warm glow of the day. “I find myself a little sad to not use it as often as I used to. Ever since I acquired Type O, I haven’t needed to use it outside of getting us dinner sometimes.” 

Gyro placed a hand on your bow as you were tying it up. He ran his fingers along its surface to feel the grooves and dips it ‌had gained over the years of use. You felt a little uneasy letting someone besides you touch it because of how sentimental it was to you, but you trusted Gyro. 

You undid the thin rope you used to tie it down and took the bow in your hands before carefully settling it into Gyro’s. He looked up at you, surprised, but didn’t complain as he began to appreciate the craftsmanship of the bow. “You used this to bring down the bridge’s supports in the first stage right?” You nodded, warmth blooming in your chest at the fact that he had remembered that. 

“I did, yeah. Shot the supports and made my own little bridge to go across on.” 

Johnny leaned over to see the bow for himself but had given you a smack to the back after Gyro hogged it to himself for a bit. “Couldn’t have kept your bridge up a little bit for me back then? I had to go down and under after you shot it down.” You let out a puff of air as he smacked your breath out of you. “Forgive me for not letting my opponent win at the time.” He looked at you before letting out a small laugh. “Fair enough.” 

Gyro passed the bow to Johnny with your permission and thought back to that moment. “You wouldn’t believe how stunned I was when you pulled that shit off; you even had me a little angry, if you could believe it.” 

You cackled. “Oh, trust me, I can.” 

“You implying something?” He shot you a look and raised a brow at you. You waved your hands and tried to stop yourself from laughing, but he had just looked so adorable to you in that moment—like one of those birds that puffs up when it gets challenged but looks stupidly cute in its own avian way. “No, no, not at all. I wouldn’t believe for a moment that the guy who beefs with Tusk on a semi–daily basis would get mad at me for showing him up in a race.” 

He blew a piece of his hair out of his face, crossed his arms, ‌and tilted his face away from you. You and Johnny laughed silently at him. “I'm serious though! Imagine you’re in the lead and another racer crosses a bridge you just destroyed by shooting its posts down with a bow. God, I didn’t know whether to praise you or hit you with a steel ball.” He turned to Johnny. “And you weren’t any better. I had both of you guys riding my ass that entire stage!” He was pulling at his hair just thinking about it. 

Johnny handed your bow back to you once he was done with it. Then, he threw an arm around Gyro’s shoulder. “You doomed yourself with me as soon as you used the spin on the guy who robbed you at the fee counter.” 

“To be fair, I didn’t think you were going to enter the race right after.” Gyro gestured between both you and him. “We both watched you get dragged across the floor by Slow Dancer for an entire day. Thought you were gonna call it quits after that.” 

Johnny looked at Gyro with a face that said, ‘are you serious?’, and scoffed. “You literally made me walk. Just dangle a carrot in front of me and tell me not to bite, why don't ya.” 

Gyro rubbed his chin. “That’s actually still a mystery to me. When you grabbed the steel balls, they were still spinning, and I hadn’t tried doing anything with them; you standing up was a complete enigma. Even now, I’m still not sure what happened.” 

You took a sip from your canteen and looked toward the sky. “Well, that’s why we're here, right?” You looked toward Johnny and smiled fondly at him. “We’ll get you to walk again, I’m sure of it. If it takes us fighting the government, then so be it.” 

You were determined to make sure everyone came out of this race alive and with the thing they came here for. Sure, it seemed like an unrealistic goal to have, but if it was attainable, then you were going to throw everything you had at it. If it cost blood, then you had liters of it to spare; if it cost sweat, you’d just keep drinking more water, and if it cost more than that… well, you’d address that issue when it came to it. 

Johnny didn’t say anything to you and Gyro, but it was clear your words landed closer to home with how he tugged his beanie over his head. You and Gyro looked at each other and grinned contentedly. “On a separate note,” you announced while putting away your canteen, “I actually thought you both were some grade A level pricks when I met you both. Just a buncha assholes in weird cotoure.” 

Johnny peeked at you from under his beanie and fixed it while leaning in closer to you; Gyro doing the same now that you’d caught his interest. “Nyo Ho! Really now? I’ve gotta hear this—lay it on us flat.” He even took his hat off to give you his full and undivided attention. “No bullshit either. I gotta hear where we got docked points.” 

You took his hat and whacked him with it once. “You literally tried to get me in your tent within the first hour of us meeting.” 

“Haha…,” he chuckled nervously, “Did I really?” 

“You did,” you confirmed and watched as he got silently apologetic. 

Johnny groaned off to the side. “Of course you don’t remember; I’m not even surprised. You flirt with every waitress we meet.” 

“I only do that because they give us discounts for the food. Besides, I’ve already got my eyes on someone else.” He swung his long hair over his shoulders and shoved his bangs to the side while becoming a little red in the face. 

Usually you might’ve fawned over how flawless he looked, but the words that had come out of his mouth made you pause in your storytelling. A sudden pit grew in your stomach, and embarrassment flooded your system like a sour drug. 

He had eyes for another person. 

How could I have been so blind?, you scolded yourself, Of course he already has someone in mind. Fuck, I feel like such an idiot. 

You had probably been overthinking every interaction there was between you two for weeks now. God, you didn’t even want to think about what happened after you took down Ringo. He probably had to stand there under your hands and hadn’t said anything because he was too nice to do anything about it. You were literally falling deeper for him in that moment while he was probably squirming in his spot and waiting for you to release him. 

You cursed the rose—tinted glasses that you seemed to be wearing and wrapped your arms around you as nonchalantly as you could since you didn’t want them to notice the sudden twist in your mood. But the damage was already done, and you were already reeling yourself back in as fast as the line would go to make sure you didn’t make another mistake like that. 

You shuddered. No matter how much you tried to process it, the pure feelings of shame and hot guilt wouldn’t leave you and kept abusing your mind. Once the spiraling started, it was hard to make it stop. 

He’s probably got a lovely lady waiting for him back in Naples, and here I am shoving myself into a place where I’m not wanted. Christ, it’s probably the same for Johnny too. He probably doesn’t want me shoving myself into his personal space or asking him questions about his life. 

They’re both not in this race to pick up a woman for themselves…

What the hell was I thinking? That I was going to find a knight in shining armor within this place?! Like some sort of fucking fairy tale.

You were distressing yourself more by the second while Gyro and Johnny were still chatting between themselves about what they thought of each other when they first met. They had even tossed some commentary about you in there, but you weren’t listening. You couldn’t. If you heard the way they talked about you with such fondness, you didn’t think you were going to be able to toss aside the growing feelings you were allowing to blossom.

“...what about Johnny?” You quickly snapped out of your self-loathing as Gyro stared at you with a questioning look. “Huh?” 

“I was asking you what you thought about Johnny when you first met him.” 

“Oh! Well, uh, I thought he looked like a star—spangled banner.” You tried to appear more reminiscent than you actually were, praying it was coming off as authentic. “He rammed into me twice with his wheelchair and got my feet good the first time. If I hadn’t properly introduced myself to him after you left him on that post, I would’ve thought that was just something he did for fun in his free time.” 

You were trying to joke about it and fit back into the loose atmosphere that had been there previously, but neither of them was laughing and were instead watching you with mild worry. Johnny hadn’t even said anything about your comment. “You look a little sick,” he went to place his palm against your forehead, but you dodged his hand and had Ever take a few steps away from them. “I’m alright. I think all this past talk is making me a little homesick; it reminds me that I got things waiting for me out there.” You sniffed and wiped your nose on your sleeve. 

It wasn’t the truth, but it also wasn’t technically a lie. You just hoped they bought it enough to back off of you for now. 

“Don’t worry Bella, we’ll cross the finish line before you know it. The other stronzos can eat shit.” Gyro have you a floppy smile while Johnny backed him up with a thumbs up. You released a sigh and gave him the best smile you could muster under the weight of your unfortunate realization. 

You needed to change the subject. 

Now. 

“It’s a clear sky,” you pointed out as you all continued through the forest, “but I’m sure we can trust what Sandman says. Dio’s an hour ahead of us, and it’s going to storm tomorrow, so that means travelling by horse is going to be nearly impossible.” You ran a hand through your sweat—slicked hair. “We’re going to need a change of plans. It’s going to get dark soon, but we should try to get as far as we can before we set up for the night. After the storm calms down, we can head straight for Kansas City, finish this stage, and then head for the corpse parts.” 

Gyro hummed and agreed that was the best plan of action if you didn’t want your horses to get injured during the storm. However, Johnny had been particularly quiet and had pulled out something that rustled in his hands. “Guys, that’s not it.” You turned to see him burning holes in the map he got out with his eyes. “We can’t do that. Sandman had said that Dio took the route with the least amount of rivers, which happens to be the northern route.”

If you weren’t already feeling bad, then you definitely were now. 

Johnny crushed the paper in his grip and tore some of it in the process. “He’s heading towards the northern part of Kansas; towards the corpse parts! He plans to get the parts before he finishes the race!” You watched him begin to sweat as his cool evaporated. “Damn it… Didn’t Ringo also have a birdcage in his house!? I thought it was weird that it was empty at the time, but now I’m sure that there was something in it.” 

Gyro gripped his thigh and leaned back with an annoyed groan. “He already sent out information via carrier pigeon even before we came to that cabin, didn’t he? I wouldn’t put it past him to do so. Do either of you know how fast pigeons fly?” 

You tried to keep your growing frustration at bay, but it had started to seep into your words. “Does it matter how fast they can go? If it's faster than a horse, which it is, then we’re already put in a bad enough spot. Ringo definitely already sent something to the government with that fucking pigeon if the cage was empty.” You winced as you heard how snappy you sounded, but figured Johnny and Gyro had blamed it on the fact that there was now a time crunch to beat Dio that none of you were particularly joyous about. 

“Guys,” Johnny drew your attention as his voice took on a cornered, rushed tone, “I’m going to run through the storm. It might already be too late, but we have to get there before we go to the goal.” 

You three shared a knowing glance. This wasn’t a ‘do what you want’ situation; it was a ‘if we don’t leave now, we’re going to lose everything’ situation. 

You knew better than to let your emotions get the best of you, especially when you had so much on the line, but the swirling pit of anxiety wouldn’t settle down. It was like standing on the edge of a cliff and peering over it with nothing keeping you tethered to the ground. You were very aware that each step was one step closer to thrusting yourself into the raging waves, but what else were you supposed to do? Let Dio saunter away with the corpse parts? 

Regardless, the anxiety was wrapping around you like a straitjacket, squeezing the air out of your lungs with labored breath; your mind racing with each worst—case scenario and playing out every upcoming confrontation like a horror film on repeat. Waves of nausea crashed over you while your stomach twisted itself into knots. 

You shuddered.

You felt abysmal about facing Dio but also about the inevitable fallout that you were most likely going to have with Johnny and Gyro. Maybe that was the real reason you had felt so disgusting. You were just trying to avoid an outcome which you knew was coming by blaming on the most convenient source of reason. 

You might’ve been a farmgirl, but you weren’t socially inept. It was more reasonable after this to leave Johnny and Gyro than to let yourself be destroyed in the explosive volatility of your feelings. You didn’t want the hurt that was bound to become a clear rejection and words of sympathy; getting told that they only saw you as a good friend and that but that they wouldn’t think any less of you. 

You weren’t some child that needed to be coddled with a blanket and a binky. You could handle yourself on your own, and that included cutting your losses when you saw them. 

However, leaving them wouldn’t fix the issue of the government, and it wouldn’t magically get rid of the enemies that were out there, nor would it give you a better shot at getting the corpse parts. Actually, you were definitely going to be worse off if you left them, but it was better than having to sit with them by a warm fire each night pretending you didn’t feel something for them.

Who were you kidding? It was much past the point of just ‘feeling something’, but you were too stubborn to admit that. If you did, that meant it was concrete—real. Acknowledging a hypothetical love for them would be dooming yourself more than you already were. 

You could see it play out in your mind: distancing yourself, pulling away, forcing smiles. All so that they had the comfort of ignorance while you paid the price of self—sacrifice. Your laughter would become hollow and you couldn’t bear knowing that one had his eyes on someone else while the other had been being hounded by your starved soul. 

Every kind gesture you replayed from Gyro now felt like a sharpened pole being twisted in your gut because you knew they weren’t truly for you. It never was. He was just a man who cherished loudly and had a natural charm; one that you mistook as affection. 

You choked out a hushed whimper from atop Ever. 

It felt like you had tried to build a cathedral out of sand, only to watch the tide come in and swallow it whole. You gathered every stolen glance, every soft smile, every quiet moment like precious stones, convinced they were the foundation of something sacred, from both of them. 

You teared up quietly as you positioned yourself behind them and rushed forward to pursue Dio. 

You wiped your eyes and blamed it on the wind, but really, it was the agony of realizing you’d been dancing with ghosts this whole time. That every connection and moment you had leaned into was just kindness that you’d taken and warped into how you wanted to see it. You had made yourself a placeholder for them until something better came along, something that was actually worth their time. And that wasn’t you. 

You’d figure something out—you had to. So for now, you'd replace the sorrow with focus until you could get an out. 

Fuck your feelings and fuck the control they had over you. You’d wrangle your life into something manageable and pretty; a collection of moments that didn’t make you choke on your spit or make you want to die on the inside. 

You’d help Johnny and Gyro from afar so the government could be dealt with. 

You’d get your farm back and your quiet peace in a sea of golden wheat. 

And you’d finish the race on your own as you’d originally planned.    -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈🗁⊹ ࣪ ˖ 

A few hours later, in the ‌presidential suite. 

The sunny sky had slowly been replaced by a ravenous storm, rain pelting the ground like tiny bullets while the sky swelled up with a gloomy grey. All the wildlife had disappeared and hidden in their own homes, while all the pedestrians below took shelter in theirs. None of them were aware of the conversation happening above them. 

“I have two or three questions to ask about the hot air balloons.” A pink–gloved hand slammed down a photograph containing a picture of the race train chugging along its tracks with many bright balloons following behind it. “Can it fly upwind?” Funny Valentine relaxed further into the salmon cushions he was resting upon and crossed his legs. 

No, it can only adjust directions depending on the wind.

The chair probably had cost a fortune with the wooden engravings it had along the arms and legs, but he didn’t care about that. All the lavish things that were offered to him were inconsequential and had begun to piss him off more than anything recently. Bootlickers and people with fake politeness were constantly trying to earn his favor, and none of them were worth it. 

They were lowly pigs who should’ve been writhing in the mud outside instead of trying to leech off of him. He couldn’t even stand his own cabinet sometimes with the bubbling spiel of loosely thought—out words they offered him on a daily basis. How any of them made it into politics was a mystery to him, yet they were still somehow the most competent people he could find to be a part of his government. 

Even so, they served him better to be messengers and dogs rather than actual advocates. 

“How long can the balloons stay in the air?” He ran a frustrated hand through his curled hair and picked the photo up again. No one had answered him, so he grabbed a nearby book on the ‘Official Guide to Controlling Hot Air Balloons: First Volume' and flipped it open to answer his own damn question.

As long as the balloon has gas in it, it can stay in the air as long as needed, but realistically speaking, it uses a lot more gas going up and down. They probably come back to land by dusk. 

He grumbled and turned to one of his chairmen. “How many are currently flying in the area?” 

“About 36 during good weather.” 

He watched his chairman lazily before resting his arm on the chair and leaning his head against it. “Then this is my ultimate question,” he crushed the photo in his grip and slammed his fist down against the wood, “Tell me why I’m getting reports that Gyro Zeppeli, Johnny Joestar, and the fucking girl they’re with are missing?! Despite having so many of them on the lookout, they still managed to go missing?!!” 

He threw the wadded—up photo at the wall and cursed every single living being in the building. “And why does this always happen? Why have we not found the pigeon that Ringo sent from his orchard? What did one of you do? Kill it and fry it up to put it in a little burrito?” 

“Uhm, no, Mr. President. I’m vegetarian.” He blinked. 

There was an uncomfortable pause before his chairman continued. “Ringo’s pigeon aside, it is impossible to track two people from the air at all times.” His chairman straightened his back and provided him a list of all the last known locations of the race participants. 

He snatched the paper and looked it over, but the reports were old by now and offered him zero insight into what you three were up to. “That might be true, but I can be sensitive to those details.” He picked up one of the sandwich rolls on a nearby platter and shoved it into his mouth. “This is a personal hypothesis,” he said, still chewing, “but I believe it is because Steel isn’t willing to cooperate.” He swallowed his food and shoved the toothpick that came with it ‌between his teeth and then began to play with it in his mouth. “Perhaps he’s trying to interfere? Those balloons are his property after all…” 

His chairman raised a brow and crossed his arms behind his back. “You think the promoter is double–crossing us? Impossible. Even if that were true, Steel would have nothing to gain; he has no motive.” 

“That’s right. Normally, promoters seek wealth and fame, but there’s something different about him. He has passion—something akin to a child’s dream—and petty idealism. Especially after Monument Valley.” He got up from his chair and walked towards the open window that was near him. He could hear the rain splattering against the sidewalk below and against the building, coating the street in a glossy layer of water. It smelled of fresh minerals and eased his increasing pent–up rage. “It might be his intention now, but I have a feeling that he’ll betray us. More than that, I feel as if he's not necessary to this race anymore, but I’d still like to keep him around in case he proves to be useful.” 

“Steven has charisma,” his cabinet member admitted. "The media, the middle class, the volunteer workers, all of them adore him. If he disappears, the race will be plunged into confusion.” 

It seems as if one of his cabinet members does have a brain after all. How lucky for him.

“Yes, I see… Let’s hold that thought for now, but once he stops providing me an advantage on the board, we must ask him to take his leave. We must find the next corpse part that is located in Kansas City! According to the map, the next part of the spine is here: the central part of the human body. As long as we get that part, the other ones will come on their own!”

He turned around to face his new favorite member, his face and hair a little damp from the rain. “Call the stand users to this town. Now.” 

“Of course, Mr. President.” The man hunched over and bowed before walking briskly out of the room and towards the main office. 

He smiled to himself. He wanted you all to think that the board was settled—that you three thought you had the ability to account for every piece, but in reality, it was only he who could slot new pawns into place. He’d form new connections in dark patterns that were only visible to him. And let’s all be real here… you can’t play dirty if you never learned how to play fair. 

In other words, it’s not cheating if you don’t get caught. 

(Johnny Joestar x reader x Gyro Zeppeli)

Previous Next Chapter

MAJOR CONTENT WARNING: Descriptions of rape, pedophilia, abuse, sexual harassment, and things in that general section. (It's only for Ringo's past since it was a canon event. Skip to the first .+~+. if you don't want to read that portion of the story)

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When Ringo Roadagain was young, his father had gotten caught in the midst of a war, people dying left and right as they got drafted to fight for a cause they didn’t even believe in. So, when his pa inevitably had to leave after getting signed away himself, there wasn’t anything he could do. For reasons unknown, he escaped from the front lines of the war and attempted to hide from officials. Hiding proved futile for his father; officials found him immediately, imprisoned him, and he ‌died of an unknown disease. 

As a result, the Roadagain family was now fatherless, and due to their extreme poverty and status as traitors, Ringo’s mother and his two sisters were forced to leave and travel across the country. 

At that time, Ringo hadn’t been born yet; his mother was still pregnant with him when they had found a rundown shack to live in across the country. His mother and sisters could barely scrape by from selling wood and had lived as best ‌they could, given what they had. When Ringo was born, it was on the floor of that shack with no doctors or nurses to aid his mother in the process. 

His first breath in this world was filled with dust as ‌his mother wiped his small, pale skin off while he cried. He had seemed so small and frail at the time—shaking in his mother’s hold as she tried to shush his endless screams. She thought it was typical at the time; babies cried, so what? But none of them were aware of the disease pumping in Ringo’s blood. Things were supposed to go back to usual for the Roadagain family, but as Ringo continued to grow, it was made clear that there was something wrong with him. 

Compared to everyone around him, his skin was fragile; so much so that the paper–thin dough used to make dumplings in town stood a better chance against harm than his own flesh did. Even the slightest cut caused him to bleed endlessly, only stopping when his mother had forced the blood to clot using herbs, shoving rags on the cuts. 

He had eventually been taken to several doctors, but none of them knew the reason for his strange condition. There were days when all he could do was lie in bed coated in sweat while his mother cooked his stew and tea with the limited food she had. On those days, it wasn’t uncommon for him to scrape his elbow while in bed, and if he were to cut the inside of his mouth, he sometimes was unable to breathe. Because of his unfortunate circumstances, he was never able to go to school and remained glued to scratchy linen sheets that were barely changed. 

Sometimes he remembered what would happen during the day, but most of the time his sense of clarity was swept away in the river of his fevers. Moments flicked in and out of time for him as he huffed under the sheets, damp grey hair falling over his blue eyes as he tried to fight the sickness. 

Life for him remained like this until he was 10, when he woke up in the night and saw a large man with brown hair and an olive green button–up shirt looming over him. As his strained eyes got used to the darkness, he could see that the shirt had actually belonged to a military uniform in the dim light provided by the moon. Noticing Ringo was awake, the man choked him with his free hand and said, “Don’t make a ruckus now.” His foul breath fanned over Ringo’s face as he lay in the bed he rarely got out of. Besides the odor coming from behind his crooked teeth, the man gave off a strange smell that almost reminded him of a vapid cow. Even stranger, the man had been eating a raw potato that presumably came from the small stash of food his family had. 

Ringo turned his neck to the side, and what he saw made his skin turn whiter and colder than it already was. There, on the floor of his family’s cabin, were the bodies of his sisters and mother—none of them even given the respect of having their eyes closed after death. He let out a small whimper and closed his eyes, blaming the sight on a dream or hallucinations that came from his fever, but the man kept speaking. “And here I was disappointed that this house didn’t have shit… I’d long forgotten skin as beautiful as this…” 

All he could do was let out strangled cries as the military man held him down on the bed and licked stripes up his face. He tried to scramble away, but his condition and inferior strength wouldn’t allow him to get out from under the man, weak limbs flailing around as traumatized tears escaped his eye ducts. “So beautiful…” the deranged soldier mumbled, shoving off his shirt while fumbling with the buckle of his belt, “So fucking beautiful… A million times more beautiful than I thought…” 

However, in his haste to throw off his clothes, he failed to notice the gun on his side being removed from his holster. “Whoa!” Ringo shoved himself against the headboard, shivering, and pulled the gun on the soldier. The weapon gleamed under the moonlight, with the barrel pointed straight towards the man’s head, but the effort it had taken Ringo to pull off such a feat caused a trickle of blood to run down his nose. Soon, it wasn’t just a trickle. Ribbons of cherry–colored liquid slid down his face in rivulets and onto his neck. 

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing? Calm down, little boy, that’s dangerous.” He tried to lean towards Ringo to take the gun back from him, but Ringo shoved the pistol in his direction and caused the intruder to take a step back. He felt disgusting under the man’s predatory gaze, being looked at like a quick fix as the man remained shirtless with his overhanging belly out. “So you managed to take that from me, huh? That's pretty amazing, but you don’t get it, do you? That’s something only a bad boy would do. Don’t take that thing so lightly now.” 

Still, all Ringo could do was cough as he pointed the gun forward. “Your nose… It’s bleeding pretty badly. You alright? That must be some sort of disease if you're losing that much blood.” The man held his arms out towards Ringo. “Listen, if you shoot that thing, you’re gonna be in a large amount of shock. Your nose is gonna bleed like hell—enough to where you’re not going to be able to grow up big and strong. Plus, I’m not mad yet, but you’re going to make me mad if you don’t give the gun back.” 

“If you shoot, I’ll be incredibly ‌pissed off! I won’t let you off that easily if you do that, so before I kill you, I’ll cut off your mom and sisters’ arms and feed them to the goddamn pigs.” That only made Ringo cry harder. “You’re a good boy, aren’t ya? You don’t have the guts to shoot me, so put down the gun. I’ll be gentle, so put… it… down. I’ll even raise you like my own son!” 

A heap of blood came from Ringo’s nose as he tried to cover his face with his hand, unable to keep the gun properly up anymore with the little power he had. The man tried to take the opportunity to snatch the gun back, but Ringo had taken whatever he had left in his muscles and picked the gun back up, shoving his finger behind the trigger, and pulling it without a second thought. It was then that Ringo had discovered the feeling of dark determination. 

That burning inside his spirit didn’t care anymore—the one that had prioritized his survival above all else and hadn’t given a single care about the consequences of his actions. The wildest thing about it all, was that he hadn’t even known he was under its influence as the soldier’s body flew backwards and slammed against the wall. He slid down it slowly, smearing a path of blood downwards on the planks as his head bent forward, dangling. 

Ringo got out of bed shakily, still crying and letting out gasps in between before he ultimately keened over and threw up anything that had remained in his stomach from dinner. He’d never hated the taste of potato so much until that night, but he wiped his mouth and got back up anyway. By the time everything was done, his nosebleed had already stopped, and there was a newfound power in his eyes. His skin flushed with color, rosy skin revealing itself and taking over the blue undertones he was used to. 

He saw the light that revealed the path he needed to take then. So, he breathed through his nose, and it filled his chest; crisp, fresh air circulating through his lungs and filling his bronchioles. After that, Ringo had never suffered from sudden cuts or difficulty breathing. 

That's why, to him, a fair duel served to eliminate his uncertainties from within. The wall that he had to surpass was what he called ‘The True Man’s World’, and that also led him down the road he believed he needed to pursue. So over a decade later, when four trapped stand users wandered into his territory only to find out they carried that dark determination he had been thirsting for, he had never been happier. 

.+* ~ *+.

When Gyro had taken a few more steps towards the stairs, a voice he knew very well called out to him from behind. “You can’t be heading back towards that cabin, are you son?” He froze. That cold tone was unmistakable; it was definitely the one that belonged to his father, so why was he hearing it now? “If you go in there to save those two, you will lose. Gyro, do not go to that cabin.” 

He slowly turned around to see the translucent image of his father talking to him, standing there in his usual purple robes. He didn’t know what was happening or why his father was appearing as a strange apparition, but he was positive that it was indeed some part of his father talking to him. “This should be something you’ve realized by now, Gyro. You cannot win, so what motives do you have for going into that house? You’re being sentimental, and that is why you will lose.” His father shoved his hands in his pants and continued in that clinical cadence that surrounded him like a gilded cage rather than words of advice. “That sentimentality of wanting to save your friend will be the downfall of this family and our art of steel balls.” 

“Victory is irrelevant since the steel balls are for the king—it is not an ability to be used for combat. I command you to leave this orchard in silence! That is an order, and as the eldest son of the Zeppeli family, you should know better than to go against me.” The spirit of his father’s will began to float towards the sky as he continued to lecture him on leaving you and Johnny behind. “And have I not told you? The criminal may be a boy, or he may even be innocent, but you cannot feel sentimental about it! Remove yourself from this place immediately and remove yourself from the race.”

He clutched his hand against his heart and looked up towards the sky, “If I may, father… sentimentalism? No, that’s not it. I just want to understand: does Marco really have to be executed?” He spat out some blood as his tone filled with pent–up anger, held back for years under the weight of his position. “What the hell is the identity of the corpse that Johnny wants to find? My path to understanding is the ultimate priority, or else I’ll never be able to move forward! Nowhere! Not even the path to the future—I won’t even be able to pursue it!” 

He glanced down towards the steel balls positioned at his side, his reflection gleaming back at him on their smooth surface. “That’s why I joined the Steel Ball Run! I can see it! I’m beginning to see it, Father! I’m getting the sensation of victory! Plus, that bastard thinks I’m a conformist?! Fuck that…. He’s just some big–headed asshole that’s talking big.” He walked from side to side as his father gave him one last disapproving sneer, crossing his arms and muttering under his breath. 

He didn’t pay it any mind as he took out a steel ball, looked at his reflection again, noticing a version of himself he had never seen in the mirror before. He thought for a moment about how you and Johnny would feel looking at him now. Would you guys feel proud of him, or was there a chance you might’ve sided with his father? He closed his eyes and felt his shoulders relax. No, he was positive that no matter what choice he had made that you would both be there for him in the end. 

Even if he decided to ditch you both, he was confident that you would have understood his reasoning. Regardless, he had faith in you guys to never expect him to leave you like that; you guys were his ride or die, and he hoped you both knew that. He ran his hand over the steel ball one last time before winding his arm as much as he could and throwing the steel ball into the side of the cabin. “Oraaa!!”

The corpse's eye twirled inside the ball as it whizzed through the air, but beside it, a green humanoid figure had manifested next to it. It had only been there for a split second, flickering before Gyro had the chance to notice it. After it was gone, the steel ball spun against the wood, allowing Gyro to peer through the wall as if it were a piece of glass. 

There, he could see you and Johnny passed out on the floor while Ringo crouched over your bodies with a map of Kansas City. As he crouched behind the wall, he could see Ringo holding a small piece of paper with the word Turbo on it. You and Johnny were alive; he could tell that much, but he needed to act quickly since Ringo had probably figured out the next location of the corpse parts. 

“Ringo… Starting now, neither of us can back down,” he mumbled to himself from behind the wall, “In a word, this is like chess. The first one to make a bad move will lose, no matter what we both think. No matter how hard we fight against it.” He chuckled dangerously to himself and broke down the wall with the spin, splinters flying everywhere as he followed up by thunder bolting a steel ball into the side of Ringo’s head. 

A second passed. He was back to being outside and staring at his reflection in the steel ball. Through the wall, Ringo had looked at him and summoned Mandom to surround his body. “I can rewind six seconds in time and as many times as I wish. My employer will most likely tell me to dispose of you as well, but doing so is worth nothing to me. I already told you that I will let you leave this orchard, so go… alone.” 

He wiped some blood from his face and sauntered over to the cabin as his cape swished behind him. “Ya know… Might just be me, but I’m getting the feeling you’re looking down on me. You said you fiddle with that wristwatch to turn back time, but you didn’t even notice that I threw that steel ball to check your body. I wasn’t aiming to kill you that time, dumbass, and I’ll tell you why just to be fair.” He unclasped the second steel ball and dug his heels into the ground. “My steel ball’s scan found an old wound in your left collarbone, so in my next attack, I’m going to aim for it. And with that wound being so old, the impact will definitely paralyze your left side.” 

He let out a feral grin as he looked at Ringo through the wall, his eyes lighting up in a menacing ire. “I don’t think you’re gonna be able to turn the knob on your wristwatch with a paralyzed left hand, yknow? Even more than that… I’m not just gonna disable your left arm, I’m gonna take everything from you. Your left leg, eyelid, foot, all of it—you won’t even be able to speak. There’s not going to be any more redo’s after I’m done with you, no more six seconds back in time, and by the way, since your heart is on the left side of your body, it’s gonna stop as well.” 

He stepped up the stairs and lifted his leg, kicking down the entire door off its hinges and standing under the walkway. He took two more steps as he let out a pleased hum at Ringo’s cracking composure. 

There they both were: bloodied and tired, but neither ready to back down and call it quits. They stood directly across from each other while you and Johnny were out cold together, challenging the other to make a move. Gyro’s smile dropped, going from zero to one hundred as his stare grew with bloodlust, intense as it focused on Ringo. “From this distance, neither of us is going to miss the next shot. So, now what? There’s no backing down; it doesn’t matter what we want anymore.” 

Ringo’s hand began to tremble as it had with Guacho before it flashed towards his gun, grabbing the silver metal and firing a shot towards him. Gyro wasn’t going to let Ringo win that easily; especially with what he had on the line, so he raised the hand with the steel ball and collided it with Ringo’s collarbone right as the bullet pierced his chest. However, Ringo shot him in the neck, and just like that… he ‌died. 

However, the damage had been done. Ringo’s entire left side had been paralyzed, meaning that he had seconds to live if he didn’t rewind time. The issue was that the watch he was wearing was on his right hand, so he couldn’t rewind it with his other hand as he would’ve normally done. A draw… Gyro Zeppeli..! Damn!  He groaned as he twisted his right hand into an unnatural position to face the gun towards the knob, firing it off to force the bullet to collide with the knob and rewind time. 

Mandom worked to set back time six seconds, putting both Gyro and Ringo back to the moment where they waited for each other to draw their weapons. “Thought so,” Gyro shakily exhaled, the feeling of death still crawling under his skin. “So, you rewound time? Now I’m going to ask you one more time: What now? One more time?” Ringo hadn’t made an attempt to move, but he raised ‌his eyes and drifted to the sight of your bodies still bleeding off to the side. “One more time?!” 

Ringo ran his tongue over his teeth in frustration. “Interesting, Gyro Zeppeli! Your eyes have taken on a better glow, but you’re still a mere conformist!” A growl caught itself in the back of Gyro’s throat before he spat out a retort. 

“That’s not for you to decide! Neither of us is backing down now!” Just like before, they had attacked each other again; bodies crumpling towards the ground with heaves in between. This time, what was different was the fact that both of their attacks were predictable since they had just experienced it not even a minute ago. 

He could still hit Ringo with the steel ball, but instead of it colliding directly with his collarbone, it had made contact with the hand Ringo had brought up to protect his weak spot, keeping his left side unparalyzed. Likewise, he had still gotten shot, but he was able to move enough to where the bullet had wedged itself into a non–lethal part of his body and not his lungs. 

Ringo was about to use his staggered state to fire off another shot, but movement from behind Ringo ‌caught Gyro’s attention. “This decides it, Gyro!” Ringo aimed the gun towards his rough state on the floor and was so close to pulling the trigger, but you had slammed Type O’s fist into Ringo’s side before he could do it. 

Ringo collided with the boiler off to the side while you stood up fully, battered and covered in dirt with various splinters in your skin. Your clothes were tattered in various areas, with your hair caked in blood from the wound on your head, but to him, you were walking salvation. Not only had you managed to keep Ringo from killing him again, but he was on Johnny’s wavelength in finding you mesmerizing despite all of you almost getting killed. 

Your chest puffed up and down with the greedy breaths you took in, still a little winded after just waking up. You bent over a little and held out a hand to him. He grabbed it as you pulled him up with a tiny wince. “Let’s wrap this up. My head’s killing me,” you whined a little and cradled the spot before your stand appeared next to you. 

Leptospirosis has been transferred. It’s in its early stages, but it will worsen if you allow me to land another hit on him. Also, death is inapplicable for this disease; the most you will be able to do is make him very disoriented. 

You and Gyro were about to question it a little more when Ringo had started to get up from his spot against the boiler. You were about to attack him, but Gyro had held you back by your shoulder and pointed towards his collarbone. In it, there was a lodged piece of wood that had made Ringo collapse back onto the floor. 

Gyro took a step towards him and tutted, crossing his arms and crouching down. “You tried to guard your collarbone in that last standoff and then tried to finish me off with another shot, and because of that defensive stance, your attack didn’t hit my vitals and got my shoulder instead. The end would’ve been when you fired your next shot… How unlucky for you.” 

Ringo took ‌a shuddering breath as he bled on the wood. “A shard of wood, huh? The pieces of wood that were falling from the ceiling… You remembered where they were from the first six seconds and used your steel ball to launch one at me.” He coughed and spat out a heap of blood. “You’re admirable, Gyro Zeppeli. I admit I was one move behind.” 

Gyro leaned against the wall that hadn’t been torn up. Figuring Ringo knew better than to try to attack again, you went over to Johnny and began checking if he was okay, gingerly turning his head in your hands and running your eyes over him to find any other wounds. He had tons of scrapes here and there, but overall, you were confident he was going to be alright. You didn’t have enough strength to fully pick him up, so you had to drag him as nicely as you could outside before lying him down on the porch. 

You grabbed Hot Pants as well from the side and cleaned him off as best ‌you could, not removing any of the big chunks of wood from him in fear of causing more blood loss. You were about to see if you could do some more for him, but Gyro seemed to be talking to Ringo back in the house, so you went back in to make sure everything was alright. Thankfully, it was just Gyro talking with Ringo from the wall he was still on. 

“If you hadn’t been guarding yourself with one arm, you would have definitely hit my vitals, as capable as you are. But that would’ve brought the match to a duel again. It would have gone on and on, never ending if you had done that; though, it seems like those six seconds are already up for you to have rewinded by now.” You approached Gyro when he finished speaking and took some bandages you had used on Hot Pants and shoved them in the bullet wounds Gyro had. 

“Shit! A little warning next time?!” His hand shot up to crush your wrist in his grasp as you kept shoving the cotton into his wound, moving onto the next bullet wound as he squirmed in his spot against the pain. He threw his head back against the wall as he hissed. “They’re still bleeding, so it’s either this or you passed out on the floor in a few minutes. I'm gonna pick your poison for you and assume you’d go with this until we can actually get the bullets out and stitch these closed.” 

He begrudgingly accepted your help, still grabbing at you as a stress ball for the pain while you tried to stop the bleeding as much as you could. When you were done, he let out a relieved sigh while you turned to address Ringo. “Don’t try anything funny. There’s no more second shot for you, so put that gun down on the floor if you know what’s good for you. I’m not averse to killing you still, but I’d rather not have another man’s blood on my hands; I’ve already taken or helped take more lives in this race than I’m proud to admit, so please don’t make me add you to that list.” 

Ringo glared at you from his curled spot on the floor and nodded defeated, so you took that as a sign that you were all free to go, but as you turned your back fully to him, he reached for the gun anyway. “You are mere conformists! The shining path that one must tread should make you kill me, not spare me!” He aimed the gun at your head while Gyro’s eyes widened at the threat. You didn’t turn around though. Instead, you summoned Type O and had her punch Ringo’s hand that held the gun, causing him to choke on air and clutch his hand in pain. 

You were gonna leave him like that, alive but with the knowledge of who was the one calling the shots now. However, Gyro’s attention remained focused on Ringo behind you, watching him with a sudden interest that had spread to you. What could he possibly still be watching Ringo for? 

You twisted yourself around to see what had Gyro so enraptured, your brows raising to a record height upwards. It was your stand, kneeled down next to Ringo who looked consumed with fever; his skin was ‌sickly pale and covered in a heap of sweat that definitely wasn’t from the battle, and as time continued, had started taking on a yellow undertone. You couldn’t see her eyes behind her veil, but you knew your stand was looking at you and waiting to receive some sort of orders. 

“What’s happening to him?” You interrogated your stand as you carefully approached Ringo on the floor. 

As I stated earlier, the progression worsens with every hit. You willed me to stop him with the punch to his hand, furthering the leptospirosis in the progress. It should be in its mid–stages right now. She gestured to Ringo on the floor to let you see more of the state he was in. 

You heard Gyro let out a ‘Cazzo’ behind you. Sweat ran down your temple as she explained to you what was happening to him, and to know that you were the cause of his sudden illness had you feeling very guilty very quick. You knew how ironic that sounded, considering you had just stated you weren’t averse to killing the guy moments ago, but seeing him on the floor suffering and mumbling the words ‘not again’ over and over in delirium took you back to the last months of how your father had lived. 

He had been drowsy, unable to remember the faces of those closest to him while muttering incoherent sentences that drifted in and out of your ears as you tried to make sense of what he was saying. It was like watching someone alive die in their own body as they tried to fight for control over it. Seeing Ringo in a similar state wrecked you on a level that could be deemed ‌psychologically catastrophic. 

“I didn’t–” Your hands shook as you tried to deny the fact that you had just caused Ringo to absorb what was definitely an excruciating disease by now if it was in its mid–stages. “How do I fix this?” Your frantic eyes landed on Type O as she looked over to Ringo and began to materialize the syringe used to take blood.

Simple. You can cure him, and I will do so since you have ordered me to. 

Without warning, she plunged the syringe into Ringo’s arm, and a white, cloudy liquid made its way down the tube connected to the syringe and her palm and into Ringo’s system. You and Gyro waited for a few seconds, observing. Soon, Ringo’s diseased state had returned back to normal, or as normal as it could be considering he was still beat to hell and back from the fight. He let out a grunt but seemed relieved of his symptoms as the color came back to his face. 

You have two more doses of cure left. You’ll need more blood from a healthy candidate once you use those up. Additionally, I have taken a sample of blood from this man and a new disease has been added to your roster. Use it as you wish. 

You blinked a few times while something in your face twitched as you took all that in. The more she spoke out knowledge you didn’t know she had about your ability, the more you began to connect the dots while also piling up more questions in your mind. 

From what you understood, she could take a sample of blood from living organisms and give you a run down on their health state. She could tell you their general health information with this run down, so someone’s weight, blood type, gender, etc were all open to you as soon as you had that sample. Furthermore, if the blood she absorbed carried a disease, a hidden part of her would store it, and she could transmit it to other organisms by hitting them. 

You recalled her saying that the leptospirosis had been given to Ringo upon the first time she had punched him, so yeah, landing a hit on your target was for sure the condition to use the ability. You placed your head in your hands as you kept working out everything in your mind. 

She also told you that hitting a target with a transferred disease worsened its symptoms as a result. However, she had also stated that she wasn’t able to use lethal disease as of now, so theoretically landing a bunch of hits on someone with a non–lethal disease would probably only put them in a heavy state of disarray. Still, that was more than useful to disorient someone if you needed it. 

That thought left a sour taste in your mouth. You didn’t want to give people diseases out of respect for what your father had gone through, but if the race kept going on like this, you knew that you were going to have to use this new ability, eventually. 

The last thing you came to note was the cure aspect. It seemed as though taking a sample from Gyro earlier had thankfully given you three uses of the cure she had talked about, which could get rid of the diseases you gave people. You wondered if the cure could be used for illnesses that you hadn’t given to people in ‌case one of you came down with something. You rubbed your arms as you finished meticulously evaluating your own stand abilities. Gyro was off to the side and still watching Ringo, giving you some obviously needed space. 

It was then that Ringo decided to speak up again. “Not killing me will be a mistake. You need those societal values and also a true man’s values. They used to be synonymous in the past, but currently, the two are not necessarily one and the same. The man and society are completely different ideals now; the true road to victory requires embracing the true man’s values. Both of you should be able to see it now.”

“Continue the race and find out for yourself the path of light. That is what I will pray for, and I thank you.” For a second time, he raised the gun he had gotten hold of again, and aimed it towards you. Gyro openly scorned his actions with a frown, having enough as his hat covered his eyes in the way he wanted it to when he felt a swell of emotions he didn’t like. He spun one of the steel balls towards Ringo and pivoted it right for his head. 

You heard a crunch that made your gut twist as Ringo’s blood splattered on the walls and on both of your clothes. A lone tear slid down your face as you tried to accept your new powers and the death of Ringo. You still didn’t know why you had felt such an intense gravitational pull towards him. You guessed it had something to do with the fact that he carried a disease that you had now collected, but another part of you also felt horrible for having accidentally used him as a test dummy regarding that new ability. 

You wiped your face and sucked in a breath before you made your way outside. You knew Gyro was watching you, but you didn’t want him to spend any more energy on you than he had already spent during the fight. Even so, he disregarded your mental wishes somehow and dragged you back into his chest, holding you from behind as he made his head comfortable on your shoulder. His arms wrapped around your waist, soft at first, before they gripped you tight around your middle and hauled you upward. 

“Aren’t you hurt?! Put me down!” He was laughing against your head as he lifted you into the air and spun you both around. Your legs were flailing in the air as you gripped the arms that were around your middle. Eventually, you couldn’t resist the delighted yelp that had escaped your throat as he did whatever he pleased with you in his arms. 

He put you down, and you both gripped onto each other in order not to go crashing onto your asses after how dizzy he made you both. Nevermind the blood loss you both had. “You look much better when you’re smiling, Tesoro.” He held your face in his hands and smoothed the area between your brows. “I couldn’t let your tears overshadow that.” 

You looked to the side as a flush of pink settled itself on your cheeks. “You’re one to talk; I always think your smile blinds people with how radiant it can be. Literally and figuratively.” He gave you his signature ‘Nyo Ho!’ and displayed the exact golden grin you had been talking about. The Go!Go!Zeppeli staring right back at you in its engraved fashion. 

It wasn’t everyday that you could admire him from this close, able to note all the fine details of his face that had you dazed in wonder. You could see blonde stubble coming in on his face that he would no doubt complain about later when he realized it was there, claiming it ‘took away from his Zeppeli charm’. It was right next to those odd little squares he kept on his face which made up his beard, the thick, lush hair neatly arranged just how he liked it. 

Your head must’ve really been out of it during these last few hours because, just as you had snuggled into Johnny’s stomach without thinking, you raised your fingers to run over the blonde patches of his beard. He let you do it too. Maybe he just didn’t care and considered you close enough to invade his space in the way you were, but the look he was giving you was hinting otherwise. 

For the sake of your heart, you tried not to pay it too much mind as you kept mapping his lower jaw with your fingers. Feeling ‌one square beneath your hands before moving on to another one with the same curiosity until you reached his chin, only to start working your way back to his neck again. 

…

It wasn’t working. 

No matter how much you were trying to ignore the feeling bubbling in your gut, it wouldn’t stop festering. The way he stared at you wasn’t helping. You let your gaze drift upwards, and fuck, was that either the biggest mistake or blessing you had done/received yet. 

He was looking at you through his thick, blonde lashes, his eyes flicking to your lips for only a fraction of a second before looking off to your neck, but even there his restless gaze didn’t settle. It was as if you were watching him go to war with himself over where he should be looking at you right now and had decided every spot of you cost him more than he could afford. 

Like he was renting paradise simply by looking at your skin, bathing in crystal blue water and drinking exquisite wine before he realized it was probably something he wasn’t allowed to do—needing to move onto another spot only to find himself in the same problem. 

No matter where you saw him look, he would only stay there for a few seconds before he decided it was time to move on. The best or worst part (you still couldn’t decide) was the fact that his eyes were glazed over with something that could only be described as pure need. He studied your entire face but refused to make eye contact with you on account of what you were no doubt putting him through. 

Every time they had landed on your lips for those brief moments, he tossed the sudden addition of pleading into the depths of his minty irises. His breath stuttered as you ran your hands over the little patches again, his lips parting ever so slightly to huff out the air he was suddenly breathing in faster as it mingled with yours. It was warm and carried the smell of iron on it with a faint undertone of the fruit he had eaten from your bag. 

You really didn’t care that you could pick up on the smell of blood from him; all you were focused on was the plushness of his green lips—like soft pillows waiting to be kissed senseless, or the way his body was slowly closing the distance between yours. 

He looked absolutely wrecked like this. 

To be fair, you weren’t in a better spot either. All you wanted to do was cross whatever line had been holding you back from weaving your hands in his hair and bringing his face to yours, but a sudden grunt from behind you had you both scrambling off each other, forcing Gyro to close his partially open mouth and forcing you to shove down the hot and bothered state he put you in. 

Gyro coughed, facing Johnny who had just woken up. “Bout time you came to it. You and Pinkie over there owe us a lot.” You scoffed and shook your head. “He’s just being nice. I was out for most of it until the end.” 

Johnny groaned and sat up. “So it's over then?” You both nodded before an idea struck you. You hurriedly walked down the steps of the cabin while both men stared at you with confusion. 

Should be around here somewhere… you thought idly, moving planks of wood to the side until you found what you were searching for. You grabbed Cream Starter off the floor and walked back to Gyro and Johnny. You presented the stand to them with a smug look, satisfied with your findings and sudden solution to all of your injuries. 

Johnny just stared at you since he was still a little foggy in the head and hadn’t connected what you wanted to do. “It’s for your bullet wounds. Hot Pant’s stand should be able to heal it and remove the bullet in one go.” He let out an ‘Ah’ and started to sit himself up more until he had his feet tucked under his legs to sit on them. 

Gyro had grabbed Hot Pants in the meantime so you could slot the stand in his hand for you all to use it. First, you took care of Johnny’s wound in his head since that one was the most pressing. Then, you took care of Gyro’s shots before removing the wood from Hot Pants and spraying those holes closed, with you last since you only had a mild concussion. 

Out of nowhere, Gyro had gotten a mischievous smirk and held out four fingers. “Hey, are both of your heads feeling alright? Listen, I think I just came up with something… An original gag, actually, but I’m only going to do it once, so pay attention. Okay? Johnny, look at my fingers and tell me how many I’m holding up.” 

“Four.” 

Gyro nodded before he started waving his hands in the air, forming different hand gestures. “Excuse me, let me pass.” He made a two, and then he ended the gestures with a zero signal, almost like he was giving an okay sign. “Aaaand that was the gag. What do you guys think?” 

Johnny put his face against his curled fist and hummed. “Mmmm… It was pretty good! It’s hilarious, actually!” 

“Right? It gets funnier with time! Don’t take my idea just because you like it.” 

You squinted at them before it clicked. You slapped your face into your palm and groaned into it. They both looked at you and laughed, knowing you thought the joke was dumb but had enjoyed it nonetheless. What he had done was make the numbers 4, 2, and 0 with his hands, which phonetically sounds like ‘shitsurei’ in Japanese when you place them together, aka, the phrase for excuse me. The dork was literally just doing shitty made–up sign language with numbers and playing it off like he had actually signed the phrase excuse me. 

It was the equivalent of making up a sign for the word ‘jeet’ in sign language with numbers and hoping it came across as ‘did you eat’. You huffed out another laugh at the absurdity of it all while Gyro held up a hand for Johnny to slap, seeing that he got you to crack. They both slapped their hands together while you mumbled something about them being idiots. 

Gyro sauntered over to Valkyrie after celebrating his victory for being the reason your neurons were firing off multiple signals of humor and regret. “Mr. Horsie, let me pass.” He slid past Evernight on the dirt. “Alright! Let’s get going. Hot Pants is taken care of, and we should leave before he wakes up.” 

Johnny glanced back into the broken house and the unmoving body within it. “He was a terrifying enemy… I wonder if all the others we’re going to encounter are going to be like him.” 

“They probably will be.” Gyro fiddled with the side of Valkyrie’s saddle as he tried to make her presentable and ready to ride again. Chilling, huh? But it’s not like we can quit the race now. Besides, you weren’t going to quit anyway, right? Even if we did throw the race, you’d still be chased by the government for the rest of your life.”

Johnny’s head fell forward. “Unfortunately,” he picked his head back up, “but it’s as you said, I don't have any intention of dropping the race. Actually, I’d be emboldened.” 

“Yeah, I don’t know why, but I feel the same. We all need to go to Kansas City and get in the lead.” Gyro picked up some of your stuff for you while you sat by Johnny on the porch. “Also, the identity of this corpse needs to be found out at some point. Is it a saint? We need to get more information from the Vatican.” 

You eyed Gyro warily, leaning forward as you placed your elbows on your knees with your head in your hands. “You have those kinds of connections? I get the nature of your…. ‘job’ puts you in a different position within the hierarchy, but having access to information from the Vatican sounds like something else entirely. Wouldn’t you need to be in more of a political position within the Papacy for that?” 

He paused while grabbing your things and sluggishly walked over to you before plopping down next to you and Johnny. “You’re right. Technically, I’m not supposed to be able to pry into knowledge that delves into official or sociopolitical aspects, but my close relationship with the king's servant and obedience have gotten me a few benefits within Naples. One of them being able to request information from the Vatican under the guise of ‘furthering my skill’ with the spin.” 

You removed your face from your hands and leaned back. “Have you ever abused that leniency?” Johnny side–eyed you, wondering where you were going with asking Gyro that.

“Why do you want to know? I’ll tell you if you really are curious about it, but you’re asking me to go into a territory that could be considered criminal activity given my occupation. Not that I’ve done anything bad, but you get the gist.”

You glanced at Hot Pants to make sure he was still asleep before you kept speaking. Your next words were sharp and, for the benefit of everyone around you, should probably be kept under wraps unless you wanted several more people up your ass for the next few days. 

“I’m not suggesting we actually do this, but if you haven’t abused the benefits the Vatican has given you yet, you probably could do it at least once to get information on not only the corpse but also other factors within the race.” You fiddled with a piece of wood in your hands as you kept running down your train of thought. “Let’s say the United States government can become a real threat to Naples if it gets hold of the corpse and exploits its power for personal gain. This country could have the theoretical attainment of resources, land, people, power, etc., to put itself at the top of the food chain.” 

“At that point, I don’t think that Naples would be hesitant to share a little bit of cheese when it comes to information surrounding the corpse or be unwilling to do some digging on the enemies in this country. Now, obviously, Naples isn’t aware that you’ve become entangled with the corpse and have decided to pursue it, but if you drop a little mention of it in a letter and ask for information on it, I don’t think the Vatican would be one to refuse.” 

Johnny took off his beanie and held it in his hands. He turned to the front towards him and frowned at the broken horseshoe that had saved his life. “What if they actually already do know about it?” 

“What are you saying?” Gyro was still quiet. 

“I'm saying that there's a possibility they already know what this race is about and are after the corpse themselves. I mean, think about it. The Vatican is a heavily religious figurehead that has been around for generations and has direct connections with many events in the past related to Christianity. There’s not a chance in this world they haven’t caught wind of the corpse of a possible saint being in these lands; they’d probably want it too if there was, and well, there probably is.” 

He waved his hand around in a circle, gesturing all around you. “Look at all of this. Stands, my legs, terrorism, feuds, corpse parts,” his voice trailed off for a second, “None of this should be possible, and yet it is. The likelihood of this corpse we’re chasing being a saint is pretty damn high, meaning the Vatican would want its hands on it immediately for a variety of reasons.” 

He shuddered and looked at you and Gyro. “If I’m not wrong… There’s probably already someone in this race working for the Vatican to get their hands on the corpse.” 

You swallowed thickly. “So it’s either we take a risk by trying to get information from the Vatican, possibly making us their ally, or—" Gyro finished your sentence for you. “Their enemy.” 

Well, this just fucking blows. You guys either take the chance of the Vatican seeing you as friends for trying to keep the corpse away from the US terrorists by revealing you know about it, or absolutely eat shit if they decide you all act as competition. There’s also the reality that they ally with you all based on Gyro’s loyalty to the country but end up using you as tools instead—like cogs in a half–functioning machine that runs on nothing but thinly spread words and veiled trust. 

Johnny turned to Gyro on your left. “What do you think? If anyone’s going to make a call on this one, it should probably be you. Both of us are wildly inexperienced for making a call on what action the Vatican would take, but you’ve been around them your entire life, so I’m advocating for you to make a decision here.” You nodded along, agreeing with Johnny as he slipped his broken knit hat back on. 

“Let me think on it…” Gyro groaned and stood up. He stretched his arms over his head and started to collect your belongings again as you moved to help him. “I don’t want to make a rash decision here if you both are placing your trust in me. Give me a day or two to think about it.” You and Johnny gave him a jumbled response of ‘sounds good’ and ‘no worries’. 

Once you were all done shoving your belongings back on your horses, you decided to take care of Hot Pants' horse as well; one last little favor before you all headed off. Gyro had been the one again to do most of the work, but as he put Hot Pants’ belongings back onto his horse, he couldn’t help that little itch of curiosity that zipped through his mind on what Hot Pants was packing on his horse. 

He dipped one tanned hand into the leather bag and flopped its cover to the side. “Whoa! This guy…?! He has a lot of stuff, I mean… Just look at it!” He waved you and Johnny over to see what he discovered. In the bag he was mischievously looking through were six wrapped roast beef sandwiches; all of them containing some sort of additional food in them, like bacon or eggs, that had been cooked to perfection. 

They stared back at you with a devilishly tantalizing little gleam that screamed ‘Eat me! Eat me!’. If you weren’t any better, you’d have done some heinous things for just a bite of one of those sandwiches. Robbery? Yeah. Coercion? Also yeah. Prostitution? …Definitely not. You weren’t really one to pop a titty when you wanted something… so, oh well. 

“If we all eat them, that would mean that he’ll have no more evidence left to sentence us to hang!” Gyro squished the sandwiches in together in his hands, a little juice escaping from them as he lifted his hand to lick the juice off his fingers. “Or maybe we can just eat the meat and leave the bread to piss him off, huh?” He began to cackle at his own thinking. Daydreaming about all the ways he could screw Hot Pants over. “Nyo Ho! Hohohoho!” 

You slapped his arm. “Dont be a dickwad, he helped us out, remember?” 

“Yeah, but he also causes us more trouble than he’s worth. I don’t know if you feel the same as I do, so this might come off meaner than it sounds, but he gives me a bad feeling.” He looked towards where Hot Pants was. “Something about him is telling my gut that there's more to him than meets the eye. Being a friendly stand user is shocking enough. Nothing good that comes free is actually free; this is no exception.” 

He looked tense as if he were talking from experience rather than offering a piece of insight someone else had passed down to him. You wanted to ask about it, but the timing and current situation felt a little inappropriate for you to be prodding into his personal life, even if he did technically tell you he would answer any questions you had. 

Had something bad happened to him after he had something good done to him? Not in that way, obviously… but still. Something tells me that the answer to that question is a conversation I don’t want to be having out here. 

You left him alone after that. Not wanting to be a bother or have him feel like your presence around him was a subtle attempt to pry into his life. You knew well enough what it was like to be pressured into spilling more than you wanted to from peer pressure or people's unyielding curiosity; bars you had visited in the past when you felt more bored than usual made that clear enough. 

You wandered over to where Johnny was on the porch. He was leaning over Hot Pant’s body to make sure he was actually alive, but as you watched him, it became apparent that he was doing something more than just checking up on him. “Johnny? Everything okay over here?” His body tensed up immediately at your words. He was still facing away from you so you couldn’t see what he was doing in front of him; a few steps closer fixed that issue as you watched his slight Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed. “Uh, yeah… Everything’s,” he trailed off like he didn’t know the words to be speaking in the moment for whatever was happening below him. Like he was some criminal ‌caught doing something illegal in the night. “Everything’s fine.” 

You almost wanted to believe him, but he was acting way too suspicious right now for you to tone down the heat of your sudden interest in his activities. You kept walking towards him, picking up your pace as you strode across the dusty, cluttered ground. When you got to him, you peered over his shoulder to find him doing something utterly incomprehensible. 

Your hair slid over your shoulder and dangled in front of you as you bent down to watch Johnny giving Hot Pant’s chest a squish. 

Wait a second…

Johnny’s actions alone wouldn’t have been too crazy if he was actually just feeling up Hot Pant’s chest to make sure his breathing was going up and down. But it was what he was grabbing that made your eyes turn into saucers. 

The pink flap that usually covered Hot Pant’s front was lifted up by Johnny to reveal a pair of boobs that he was currently groping in the palm of his hand. “Johnny! What the fuck?!” He ripped his hand away from Hot Pants like the pink globes of fat had burned him, turning to look at you with an owlish look and a completely beet red face.

 “I– It’s not what it looks like! I thought it was weird that he had something poking out from under his clothes and thought we missed a chunk of wood! And it wouldn’t have been noticeable from the front if it was there!” 

You stared at him with an incredulous look as he tried to defend himself. 

Why on God’s green earth was grabbing Hot Pant’s apparent titties the first viable option to confirm if he (she?) was okay or not? Plus, he should surely be able to recognize a pair when he sees one… right?! There's no way he looked at a pair and his first instinct was to feel them up. 

You scoffed and smacked his hand away from Hot Pants. “I’m serious! I wasn’t trying to do anything malicious, I thought he–” “ –she–”, you corrected as he fumbled with his words. “I thought that she had something wrong with her.” 

Suddenly he looked very dejected. His eyes cast down to the floor as he hunched over on the porch and wrapped his arms around him. “Besides, I’m not exactly equipped with the ability to do much in my position.” He made a slight gesture to his legs to hint at the fact that, even if he was trying to do something sexual to her, he had no way of actually carrying out such an action. Not that he wanted to in the first place, ever. 

“Even if Hot Pants was awake, I don’t think she’d be the type to let me anywhere near those.” He briefly glanced at her chest again. “Or any woman, for that fact.” He was looking at Hot Pants with something that read more as worry rather than the hungry, voracious stare you were more familiar with had someone more sinister been in his position. He genuinely was just worried about her. His gaze wasn't filled with lust, nor did he attempt to take advantage of Hot Pants' inability to resist further advances since she was knocked out cold. You let out a breath in acceptance. 

You knew better than to paint Johnny as some sex fiend anyway. Most of the time he seemed to shy away from interacting with girls that he didn’t know. Like the waitresses you’d speak to when you all made it to a checkpoint that had actual food to offer in taverns, or the hordes of women who threw themselves at Diego when he gets interviewed for the race. He preferred to avoid them as a whole rather than have to talk to them willingly. 

Something seemed off, however, within that visit to your memories. His words had you reevaluating your previous assessment of what you initially thought was a simple aversion to conversation. Thinking back on it, you did recall him looking a little dejected any time a woman approached your guys’ space; he’d lower his head and end up looking smaller than he actually was in his wheelchair. 

You remember the way his dusty blonde hair fell over the side of face in an attempt to hide away behind it. Like a velvet curtain that he could pull in front of his features to slink behind whenever the world around him got too much. His eyes had been glossed over with something tight and defeated. Like he had been experiencing a rot from the inside out that was slowly expanding deep in his lungs; growing and filling out every nook and cranny in his being. Consuming his flesh slowly, with a weight that continued to grow heavier as time passed, letting what you assumed now had been a mild depression to fester. 

He’d asked you to order for him while Gyro went to the bar to grab drinks. You believed he had just been tired and didn’t feel like interacting with the waitress. Now, you’re not so sure. 

Had he been going through something like that without you even realizing it? And if so, what was the reason? 

You frowned, having some guesses of your own. 

“You’re staring.” 

You jolted and blinked as Johnny spoke. He unfolded himself from his curled position and sat back on his hands as you tried to look elsewhere—embarrassed by the fact that you had zoned out in your analysis of the past and had been eyeing him intensely. You probably looked like some weird kid staring at a lollipop through the glass window of a candy store.

“Can I ask you something?” you wrapped your arms around your legs as you pulled them to your chest. 

“Sure.” 

“Why do you say that women won’t let you go near them? I think I’m being a little dense here, but I don’t see why they should have anything against you. You haven’t done anything wrong as far as I’m aware.” 

He laughed bitterly, but the sourness of it wasn’t directed at you. “You take a good look at me and tell me why you think women don’t necessarily want to talk to me.” You remained quiet and tilted your head at him. “You really don’t get it?” 

“No, I don’t. All I’m looking at right now is a man who has been kind to me ever since we met and who has a conviction so strong sometimes that I can’t help but follow it He’s also the same man who lets me feed his Appaloosa snacks and tolerates my bad jokes on the occasion I make them. He even watches over me when he thinks I’m not looking and gives me portions of his food on nights when he notices I’m a little more hungry than usual. You and I both know that the ‘I’m full, anyway’ bullshit is an excuse. So, I’ll say it again: I don’t understand why anyone would have anything against you when I know you have a good heart.” 

He smiled softly hearing the way you talked about him. You still only saw the best in him and had given him something more precious than gold: pure, unadulterated warmth. It didn’t matter that you had seen him kill a guy or had been through hell yourself. Despite everything, you were still you. 

You still openly cherished him through all of that, and after a few seconds, he smiled before his lips spread thin and tight as he went back to the ball of gloom he was before. 

“My legs don’t work, Darlin’.” His Kentucky drawl smoothly clung to the words escaping him even though the topic was less than savory. “No woman since the accident has approached me with a hint of interest or anything remotely close to it. Men aren’t the only ones who have looked at me and seen nothing more than a shattered star.” He sighed. “As soon as my fame dropped, everything around me did too. Any friends that I had left me, most of my money went towards my hospital bills, and my family… Well, that’s not something to be talked about here.” He chewed the inside of his cheek as he talked. 

You listened, but didn’t dare to interrupt him or speak on anything yet. 

“Any sort of relationships I had before I got shot went down the drain and have stayed there since. No one wants to sleep with a cripple that can’t offer them anything cept’ lying on the bed and making them do all the work. And before you ask, yes, ‘it’ still works. Just doesn’t matter enough anymore when you’re condemned to pitiful stares or disgusted sneers.” 

“I, ah…” Your tongue caught in your mouth as you chose your next words carefully. “Wasn’t going to ask about your, yknow…” 

“My dick?” 

You snorted at his crudeness and dragged a hand across your face. It was a small reprieve from the weight of the conversation. “Yeah, that.” You saw him smile faintly, checking on Hot Pants one more time while Gyro was off doing whatever. Probably taking a piss or something, who knows? 

“It’s funny,” you mumbled. He glanced at you for a second before scooting himself closer to you so that he was on your left. “What is?” Your shoulder brushed against his, the fabrics of your clothes rustling softly against one another. “That I get flustered saying the word dick but you can toss it around like a seed on a field, while I don't give a rat's ass about saying boobs but that’s the thing that has you clutching your pearls.” 

His body shook lightly with silent laughter, his eyebrows releasing their tension while he closed his eyes; sun–kissed eyelashes fanning out against his skin in thick clusters. He opened them again when he felt your weight against his side. When he looked over, you were leaning against his arm as you hummed something that he didn’t recognize but came to find soothing regardless. 

“You tired?” He watched you rub your eyes a little as you tried to fight off the creeping exhaustion from the fight. “A little,” you answered truthfully. 

You were content to sit there on the porch with him and wait for Gyro to come back from the orchard. You could see him a little ways out collecting some more fruit for you all before you hit the road, but you didn’t contemplate it more when you felt a gentle hand push your head down to the left. 

One moment you were leaning against Johnny, and the next you were in his lap; your head cradled by his unresponsive legs with your cheek pressed against his familiar blue and pink starred pants. He carded his hands through your hair, memorizing the color and texture of it as he touched it. “Rest for a bit while you can.” 

The contrast is gonna kill me, you thought. How can he have such a storm within him, treating the outside as it treated him, but then be this soft? Other people got the version of Johnny that robbed him of everything he had; the cold, quiet, rough side of him that had developed in response to the trauma he went through. But with you? 

He’s soft. Tender. Gentle.

The intimacy of the moment overwhelmed you. Your heart pounded against your chest as your eyes fluttered closed while his hands caressed your hair. It was perfect. Or it should have been before his hands stopped and he grumbled. “What’s wrong? I can get off if I'm bothering you; I don’t want to overstep.” You looked up at him from your spot on his lap. “Oh– no.” He waved his hands in misunderstanding. “Sorry. It’s not you, I promise. I’m just getting to experience the awesome effect of paralysis while I’m trying to enjoy quality downtime, as usual.” 

A wave of empathy washed over you as you understood what he was saying. He couldn’t enjoy the moment you were both having to the fullest because he couldn’t even feel you on his lap to savor the comfort you offered each other. To him, you were just a lump on his legs, with the only indicator of you on his lap being his hand on your scalp and situational awareness.

He hated it.

He wanted to feel you so badly, but nothing in the world would allow him that luxury anymore. He cursed not appreciating the simple act of being able to feel and walk more when he could before it all got taken away in the blink of an eye. 

You stared up at him as a frown settled over his features. His hand was still idly playing with your hair as he got lost in thought, but you had an idea that you hoped wouldn’t be too far out of line. You pulled his hand away from you, causing him to look down at you in apology before he realized you weren’t taking his hand away because you didn’t like it. 

You placed a tentative, ginger palm on his chest and pushed him down until he was lying on the porch. It only lasted a second, but you were sure his heart was racing so quickly it might wear itself out before he reached forty. You rested beside him on the porch and gradually positioned yourself against his side, resting your head on his chest and encircling his torso with your arms. “How’s this?” He wrapped his arms around you and pressed you against him, burying his face in your hair and breathing in the slight, sweet scent of it. It smelled like fruit, which made sense; pears and cinnamon were the things he could note the most. Some dirt and sweat too, but he didn’t care. 

He didn’t respond for a second, but had managed to whisper something out in a wobbly voice. “It’s more than I deserve.” You tried to tilt your head upward, but the vice grip he had on you didn’t permit such an action. 

“You’re deserving, Johnny. We tend to be our worst critics when it comes to this stuff, so don’t think that you aren’t worth any of this because you are.” 

He shuffled against you. “I’ve done horrible things. Things I’m not proud of… I wasn’t always like this.” You suddenly recalled him saying how he wasn’t proud of the person he used to be during the conversation when your stand had developed its syringe ability. “You’re right. You’re not who you probably used to be—you’re better. Isn’t that proof enough though? That you’ve changed to be better? I won't sugarcoat it and say that whatever version of you in the past should’ve been given endless sanctuary from what you’re saying, but now, I think you’re past that.” You rubbed his side up and down in a gesture of comfort. “Wouldn’t you say that?” 

He exhaled softly and repositioned his head so you could hear him better. “If I’m being honest, I can’t see it that way. The things that I did aren’t the kind of stuff you can just excuse on the basis of ‘changing for the better’.” 

“Don’t feel pressured by me asking and please ‌decline if this is a boundary I’m crossing… but what did you do?” You felt him tense beneath you. It was obvious you had taken the mile when he had given you an inch, but he had the decency and manners not to chew you out for it. “Sorry,” you apologized. 

“It’s alright. The issue wasn’t you asking; I can’t–” he stopped, trying to phrase his thoughts in a way that made sense. “I can’t bear the thought of you or Gyro seeing me differently if I tell you the person who I used to be. You both are the closest thing I’ve had to being treated like a person again, and I don’t think I can live knowing that one conversation can fuck that all up.” 

Your brows furrowed. “So, which one are you more afraid of losing? The feeling of being able to be treated with decency, or us?” He seemed to realize what you were implying as he suddenly sat you both up and looked into your eyes. Soft, baby blue staring right at you. 

“Shit, no, that’s not it. Fuck, I’m sorry. That came out horrible. I’m not insinuating I’m using you and Gyro to feel like a somewhat normal person because you treat me like one. I’m just beating around the bush about the fact that you both feel more like a family to me than my actual one does.” He has family issues? Whatever he doesn’t want to say has to have layers to it.

“Why would you be afraid to say that?” 

You placed a hand on his as you waited for him to answer you. He held it as you looked at him. “I dunno, it feels like if I admitted that out loud that you guys would just look at me like some sort of stray cat that clings to any warmth I can get. I lived on my own for a while after I got paralyzed, and being lonely wasn’t an issue, but with you both? I can’t remember a time when I’ve felt so at ease.” He looked outward towards where Gyro was under the trees. “If I pushed away the only people that I’ve come to care about within the last few years because of the actions I’ve done in the past, I wouldn’t know what to do.” 

You smiled sadly at him, starting to grasp the weight of the mental cage he was putting himself in. He was carrying the weight of a fractured past like chains around his ankle. In his past, he was damaged and volatile, maybe even sometimes cruel—shaped by something that taught him love was conditional and that roughness was a language. Perhaps his family, based on what it sounded like. 

But then came you and Gyro. You both weren’t his blood, you weren’t anyone he had known, you were just strangers to him who had seen past the sharp edges of his demeanor and accepted him without complaint. You had both become more of a real family to him than he had ever experienced, but admitting that to himself? Impossible. 

He seemed terrified. Terrified that if you both knew about the things he had done before the accident, it would shatter the delicate bond between you all. He’d lose the only people he’d started to associate home with. So instead, he had chosen to hide. 

“Johnny,” you said sweetly, “Whatever you have done in the past, I will never judge you for it and I’m very confident Gyro won’t either. You and I are well aware of the things he’s probably had to do, and I don’t think he’s proud of it either. Even I’ve done things that I don’t feel good admitting.” You placed his hand over your heart. “But I need you to know that you both mean more to me than life. You’re my family too, but I won’t force you to say anything if you don't feel ready to talk about it. Still, if you ever do, know that I will be here for you through it all; we both will.” 

He thumped his forehead against yours as his eyes screwed shut with heavy emotion. “Okay,” he breathed out, “I trust you; Gyro too.” You wrapped your arms around his middle and rocked you both side to side. He smiled into your neck and let out a sigh, evidencing the burden that had just lifted off his shoulders.

As soon as he found a good opportunity, he’d tell you ‌all of it. About Nicholas and his father, about Danny, about his fame and what it did to him. You guys were set in stone now, and he had no regrets. You didn’t have any either. 

“Thank you,” he pulled away from you and gave you a genuine smile. His white teeth peeking out from behind his blue lips. 

“There’s no need to thank me, not for things like that.” You beamed back at him with your own radiant smile and were about to tuck some hair back into his beanie, but something had shot out and slammed you into the porch with surprising strength. 

You let out a groan and felt the culprit of the attack wiggle against your face. “Jesus! Come back here you little shit!” You felt Johnny hovering over you as you rubbed your head and cracked open your eyes. It was Tusk. Rubbing against you like an overjoyous cat and spewing out heaps of ‘Chimimi’s, pressing his little hearts that stuck out at his tail against your face. “I have no idea why he did that,” Johnny fretted over you after seeing the force Tusk had zoomed against your face with. “Are you hurt?” 

You blew a raspberry into Tusk’s tummy forcing Johnny to let out a squabbled noise. “Not anymore than I already am. Also sorry, I couldn’t resist giving this little cutie a raspberry.” Tusk let out a pleased chirp for being on the receiving end of your love; he was still burying his body against your face and had his little cone nose pressed flat against your temple. “It’s fine. I was just caught off guard.” 

You continued to cuddle Tusk against you, with him floating around you and even doing some adorable little aerobatics.

Are stands even supposed to be able to do gymnastics like that? 

You didn’t think much about it and played with his floppy ears and the little wiggly spirals that came out of him; Johnny sat on the side and endured the weird ghost touches but felt content knowing you were having fun with Tusk. At some point, Type O had come out to settle herself against Johnny and began cleaning little specs of debris from his person. 

You both realized that your stands outwardly expressed the feelings you were both having. Tusk was rather elated since Johnny had been happy to hear that you and Gyro would be there for him, while your stand took care of Johnny just like how you had wanted to. 

It was comforting; a supernatural display of the bond you and Johnny had developed over time. Unfortunately, it had to be cut short since Gyro had come back with an unholy amount of fruit. Way more than any of you needed. He dumped a good chunk of the fruit in your bag before shoving the rest on Slow Dancer and Valkyrie. 

“You two look cozy. Hope I didn’t miss out on the party too much.” You and Johnny were going to assure him everything was fine, more than fine, actually. However, Tusk, fueled with what had to be pure oxytocin and sugar, darted straight to Gyro with a prolonged cry of ‘Chimimiiiiiiiiii!’. The tiny pink stand slammed right into his face, like he had with you, and sent Gyro stumbling backwards until he lost his footing and hit the ground. 

“Get–” he sputtered, being smothered by Tusk, “Johnny, get your stand! It’s trying to eat me!” You got up and tried to walk to Gyro but doubled over with laughter as you watched him lose what was developing into a wrestling match with a stand the size of a premature baby. “This fuckin–! You guys are traitors!!” Johnny had spun onto Slow Dancer, but wasn’t in a state much different than yours. 

He was trying to choke back the obvious laughter bubbling in his chest but was failing and had started to heave breaths in and out in an attempt to compose himself. It was one of the rare few times where Johnny had found something so genuinely hilarious that he was having a hard time keeping his cool. Most of the time he would only give out a smirk or a huff of air, but right now you were both caught in a full–blown stomach cramp with how badly Gyro was losing to Tusk. 

He was trying to crawl away from Tusk on his stomach, but the stand had grabbed hold of the end of his pant leg and was hauling him backwards through the dirt. How Tusk was even managing that, you had no idea. He shouldn’t even have that much strength, so you assumed Johnny’s heightened emotional state was like giving Tusk a mini steroid buff specifically for loving on people. 

“Tusk,” you called out to the stand through occasional chuckles, “Come here. Leave the big bad Italian alone.” You opened your arms for Tusk to come to and he accepted the offer right away. He snuggled into your arms as you doted on him while Gyro fumed on the floor before he got up and hopped on his horse. You were the last one to get on your horse, as Evernight waited patiently for you. 

Tusk seemed to not want to go back into Johnny’s arm for the time being, so you let the cutie curl into the crook of your neck as he decided to take a nap there. You’d let him stay there for now, but if you saw anyone, then he’d have to go back. 

You looked back at Hot Pants one last time before you all kicked your horses forward and continued. 

Something told you that she had some level of importance that you’d yet to understand, but it would come around in time. You just hoped that she would remain an ally in the future. As she faded out of sight, you turned forward and gave Tusk one more little scritch before it was back to winning the Steel Ball Run. 

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(Johnny Joestar x reader x Gyro Zeppeli)

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Apparently none of you had a talent for being a geographical mastermind or had ‌any sort of dexterity with navigation since you still hadn’t gotten out of the damn orchard. Regrettably, you had overlapped yourselves multiple times, which resulted in a tangle of hoof prints on the ground that marred the earth and mocked you with their U-shaped pattern. Even Hot Pants had still been stuck, unable to do anything with his compass since the orchard had been messing with it. 

As unshakeable as he seemed, it was obvious the weight of the situation was getting to him with each narrowing of his eyes. They flickered back and forth between the trail and the white trees, calculating the best move set to take but not coming up with any ideas that hadn’t already been tried. At some point, it got so bad that you had all agreed to team up again to pave a way out of the fruit hellhole. 

“Shit! Okay… one more time, we’ll go around one more time.” Gyro snapped the map with an agitated flick before he folded it up and placed it into the waistband of his pants. “Every time we make a turn, mark the tree Johnny. We need to know where we're getting lost in this orchard, so be precise. After we go straight through this path that's in front of the house, we’ll go left at the next corner.” By now, you wouldn’t be surprised if any of you went into cardiac arrest with how well this plum forest was keeping you within its boundaries. 

Johnny sucked in a breath and nodded while you rubbed your arms, trying to smooth out the goosebumps there. You hadn’t been focused enough to see Hot Pants casting his reins forward to move again, so you scrambled for a second before you were all waltzing through the orchard with an aggressive tempo. Gyro halted for a second on Valkyrie and placed his large hand on a tree, “Johnny, mark a right arrow here.” 

He made a single carving in the tree before you all took the intended turn, but just like every other time, none of you had avoided being stuck in the orchard. Gyro crushed his reins in his hands, the leather creaking underneath the force of it as he began to fire out commands, “We need to follow the marks on the trees again. We’ve already lost two hours in here!” His hair whipped to the side as he spun his head in agitation. “Johnny, where the hell is the mark? Let’s go!” 

You all waited for Johnny to say something, anything, but when his voice came out, it was hushed and full of disbelief; like he had stumbled across something that shouldn’t physically be possible. “I… I already found it… It’s this tree that I left the mark on. I’m sure that this was the only one I had touched.” Your mind had stumbled around and was confused about why he was so worried, but one look beyond the tree he was touching had you reeling back, baffled. There, on what had to be at least eight other trees, was the same turn indicator Johnny had supposedly only made on one tree. 

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, “I have no idea what’s happening… I swear it was only one tree?!” You all were stunned into silence before each of you erupted into hysterics. All four of you began to approach the trees one by one, inspecting them for any sort of faulty play at hand, but found nothing other than Johnny’s repeated carvings. 

“Hey, Johnny!” Gyro growled out as he gripped the wood of a tree, “What the hell are you doing?! I told you to only make a mark when we make a turn!” Johnny threw his hands down in frustration and backed towards you, trying to find some sort of comfort amidst the chaos as he quipped back at Gyro. 

“And I’m telling you I did! Besides, everyone here saw me making the marks!” 

You rode over to Gyro as Johnny stuck to your side, sticking a hand on Valkyrie’s muzzle and giving her a reassuring rub to help her calm down. Gyro’s panic was starting to make her lash out, and that wasn’t going to do anyone here any good. “He’s right, Gyro. Whatever is happening here, it isn’t his fault, so don’t lash out at anyone. Save it for whatever or whoever is doing this to us.” He took a deep breath and calmed down before giving you and Johnny an apologetic nod. 

Still, his attention was hyper-focused‌ on the repeating carvings. “How did these other marks get here then? All of these are in Johnny’s handwriting, so only he could’ve made them. But why do none of us remember him making them…?’” 

You went up to yet another tree that Johnny had somehow marked, “All of these are pointing in different directions… How could that even have happened…” While all of you were trying to make sense of the carvings, Hot Pants had been staring at the decrepit house where that white man had killed Guacho. 

It was then that he realized with absolute certainty that the man hadn’t been lying when he said the only way out of the orchard was through him. 

Upon that unfortunate connection, Hot Pants let out a high whistle to get your attention, removing his fingers from his mouth when he saw he had it. “Our enemy is in that house, correct? A stand attack… That must be what it is, am I right? We’ve been under attack for a while now, but hadn’t even known it since no one had gotten physically hurt.” 

You let out a frustrated cry that had morphed into a groan halfway through at the realization that you’d need to fight that man after all. It made sense, though; the man who had killed Guacho had done it so efficiently that there was no way it had to have been skill alone. Gyro himself could’ve taken one replay of his memories and called bullshit as someone who dealt in death daily. 

A stand was the only thing that could explain it, and it had to have been one that belonged to that man. 

He and Johnny had gone quiet for a moment as they made their own conclusion before Gyro had agreed with Hot Pants. “I don't know what his motive is… Why did he have a shootout with Guacho?” His eyes turned toward the sky in thought; voice filled with a clinical undertone that suggested he was analyzing something more than the white man alone. “If he is actually an enemy, then why the hell would he want us to get lost here?” 

You were about to say something, but Hot Pants had clearly been fed up too many times and had started to chew out the Italian. “What do you propose we do then, Gyro? Do you want us to go wander for a bit longer like a bunch of ducks? Want us to go make more rounds so you can sit there and question the logistics of our misfortune on your horse? If that sounds like something you want to do, then go do it. But I’m not going to meander around here any longer.” 

His words were filled with venom and burned with a viscosity that made you wince. Realistically, he was right, but damn. Was it that necessary to rip on Gyro like that…? 

He kicked the sides of his horse and turned to face away from you all, his pink bob swishing from the motion. “That man told Guacho that he couldn’t leave unless he killed him. Yes? …No… Fuck, let’s just have him go explain. I’m not sitting here to babysit you all any longer.” 

Johnny’s jaw dropped at the sheer condescending smack that Hot Pants had just let out—Gyro’s too. You couldn’t deny that, as much as it had stung, he was kinda badass… You’d need to ask how to dish out tone like that after this was all over; if he didn’t mind tolerating you a bit longer, that was. 

Hot Pants glanced over his shoulder and interrupted Gyro from what was probably going to be a verbal assault. “We’ll take him out, four against one. That should be a good plan, yes?” Gyro stared him down as you and Johnny orbited around each other. “I thought I told you that I don’t trust you.” 

Hot Pants huffed at him. “How much more is it going to take for you to remove that stick out of your ass? This is no time to be talking about fairness. We need to do what we can with the minimum risk of getting hurt. If we’re going to kill him, all four of us are going to do it.” His movements were sharp, abrupt—jerky with barely contained violence at Gyro’s stubborn insistence on not trusting him. He looked one wrong word away from pulling out his stand again and spraying it on Gyro just to get the satisfaction of pulling one over him. 

Next to Johnny, you were starting to get antsy with the group's non–decisions. If you all couldn’t agree on something soon, then you were going to be stuck here for much longer than two hours. You were about to check on Johnny to see how he was doing, but his whole face had gone dark. Every muscle and vein in his body had burned with a violence and desperation that you don’t think you’d ever seen him have before. 

Hell, you didn’t even know he was capable of giving off such a sinister vibe. “Gyro…” he pulled up to the man’s side and brought ‌their faces close together, almost as if he was about to threaten him, “If this keeps up, we’re going to be here when the sun sets, and we have to avoid that at all costs. I don’t want that goddamn Dio getting the next corpse part; he’ll be at least a full day ahead of us if we waste the time we have right now. Anything, anything but that! And we don’t want the terrorists to get it either, right, Gyro?” 

A bead of sweat rolled down the side of Gyro’s face and nestled itself in a square patch of his beard. Johnny was right; as much as both of you didn’t want to think of it, he was right. You had your family on the line, while Gyro had his reasons to fight too. If you didn’t leave this place within the next hour, your position in the race was done for. 

The only way out of this orchard is through that man, you concluded, letting out a shaky exhale. Seems like you four had come to a consensus. 

For the first time since you’d met him, Hot Pants let out a pleased smile, if it could even be counted as one. It was more of a twitch in the muscles of his mouth that could barely be counted as a grin, even with the help of a spyglass. But you’d take your wins where you could get them. 

“Listen,” Hot Pants waved you all forward so you could huddle. He even rested a careful hand on your shoulder to calm your nerves, which had been spiking all over the place as he brought you closer to him. “Once we know for sure he’s an enemy, we ambush him. I’ll take care of that, so you three need to talk to him. While you do that, I’ll take his back and finish him off; are you fine with this?” 

Hot Pants removed his hand from you, seeing as you had gathered yourself for the sake of the plan, but Johnny had questions. “You’ll take his back?” Johnny doubted the legitimacy of Hot Pant’s claim and found it hard to believe that he could take on the man in the cabin just like that. He wasn’t even confident that he himself could do something as impossible as that. “He’s not a sleeping cat, you know?” 

Hot Pants cracked his neck and placed a hand on your collarbones to push you back a few steps before he whipped out his stand and sprayed a quick rope right between Johnny and Gyro. Startled, they both let out a tiny shout as the golden sprayer thrusted itself through the air until it landed on the roof of the house. Predictably, the distance was quite a bit away and had taken some of Hot Pant’s flesh from his hand to make the shot. 

He shoved his gaunt hand into his lap and held it with his good one. “Cream Starter, that’s my stand's name. It’ll take my hand behind him, which will allow me to get an excellent shot at him. Now, go talk with him and let’s get this over with.” He shoo’d you all off and started stalking away, his horse confident and lax in its approach. 

You, on the other hand, were anything but that. Your heart was hammering in your chest with a certain terror, unable to pinpoint where it was coming from. It was as if your natural instincts were telling you this choice was a horrible decision before it had been carried all the way through. Even so, you felt split in half. Something in you was still being drawn to him like a fish being dragged to a hook with bait. Your mind was screaming at you to drag all four of you back to safety, wherever that was, while your soul was telling you that he had value to you like no other. 

When you approached him, he was digging a hole in the ground on the right side of the house while Guacho’s corpse sat off to the side while waiting to be buried. You, Johnny, and Gyro sat on your horses watching him for a few seconds, debating how any of you should go about beginning a conversation with him. You were going to bite the bullet and speak, but something on the roof caught your attention. 

It was Cream Starter!

The fleshy stand was wiggling its way to the edge of the roof to lie in wait while Hot Pants relied on you three to keep up the plan. A small pang of relief nestled itself inside‌ your chest, giving you some semblance of courage to go up to the man and start a conversation. 

“So,” you approached the man on Ever, your hands resting loosely on the reins while your feet sat firm in your stirrups, “Who are you? I don’t mean to come off as rude, but you’re going to need to tell us your objectives.” He stopped burying Guacho when he heard your voice, but he didn’t turn around immediately. All he did was give you a sideways glance before he asked for a moment and continued burying Guacho. 

It didn’t take ‌him long to finish burying the man. During that time though, Johnny and Gyro had strode up next to you as Hot Pants positioned himself on the left side of the house off his horse. “I don’t get it,” Johnny whispered, “Why would this guy be so focused on giving Guacho a proper burial when he slaughtered him with almost no care. Those types of people wouldn’t have cared at all normally…” 

You leaned towards him so you could whisper back, “Maybe he just has a strong moral code?” 

Quickly, Gyro tapped your shoulders and pointed past you all to the man who had begun to turn around. “If we are to converse, I would like to do it one at a time.” He walked over to the patio and placed the shovel against it before dusting off his clothing and fixing his posture. “Would two of you kindly move back to where you were before?” 

Gyro scratched his chin in fake consideration while you and Johnny tilted your heads downward to watch the guy closely. At this point, both Johnny and Gyro were ready and willing to kill this guy for wasting so much time, but they needed to wait to see if he had something up his sleeve. You all knew he had a stand ability, but you didn’t know what it was, and if it was so effective at keeping you all here with no memory of going in loops, then you had to be on guard. 

“Listen up.” Gyro dropped his reins on Valkyrie and rested an arm on his lap as he leaned forward, voice rough and commanding. “Whatever you're trying to pull, we don’t care, alright? Just answer her goddamn question. Who are you and what the hell are your objectives?” 

Your eyes widened in shock. You had never seen Gyro so defensive on your behalf before, especially in any other stand fight you had gotten into. It was almost like someone had flipped a switch in the way he went about dealing with people who were a threat to you. Sure, he’d snap at someone for being rude to you or put them in their place for trying to be an asshole, but this felt more like him defending your honor in a way. 

He was fully stepping in to make sure that you weren’t‌ ‌on the receiving end of something bad and was opting to take the full risk of getting hurt for you instead. He’d even managed to gently push you and Ever behind himself on Valkyrie to make sure the man’s attention was focused on him rather than you or Johnny. But that didn’t matter to the man who killed Guacho, no. Instead, he focused his gaze behind you, onto Johnny, looking at him with a ferocity that burned like a wildfire. 

You and Gyro noticed this and blocked his view accordingly, trying to diffuse the already tense situation, but it didn’t deter him. “If we are to engage in a shootout now,” waving his hand about, “If, of course, you will not be able to kill me. However, that gentleman behind you stands a chance, so kindly step back. From here on out, the only one I’ll be willing to converse with is him.” 

There was a pregnant pause as he waited for you all to say something or agree. Shit, there might as well have been twins with how long it was. Truthfully, no one wanted to speak up due to how intense he looked at you right now. 

His eyes were cold and calculating, narrowed in a way that had you feeling as if you were all some prey he was hunting—moving with a fatal elegance which had every muscle in his body coiled and ready to strike if one of you tried to disobey his request. His expression was completely blank, not angry, or impatient… just waiting.

It paralyzed you all. 

Sweat ran down all of your faces, respectively; Johnny being affected the most since he was the object of obsession for that man. He looked pale but also not deterred at all. Whatever was going through his mind right now suggested that, despite the obvious danger the man in front of you all carried, he was going to kill him and get the corpse parts. 

“This is for your own good, you two. Step back.” When he noticed you and Gyro refusing to budge in favor of keeping Johnny safe, he walked from side to side, mumbling something to himself before stopping. “Would you like me to talk to you a bit more? Will that help you change your minds?” He placed a hand on his belt as he explained to you why Johnny mattered so much to him. “The gentleman behind you has a ‘dark determination’. He wouldn’t hesitate to kill me if the situation called for it, and soon it will. But you two are not the same way. It’s simply the nature of who you are; both of you don’t have the mental drive to abandon your morals in favor of getting what you want.” 

He sniffled and let out cough, “So, move aside. That is my reason.” 

Your brows knitted together as he spoke. Why on earth does this man want to be killed so much? Was he depressed and suicidal? No, he could just kill himself if he wanted it that badly. 

…so why? 

“It’s apparent you all are trying to figure out a countermeasure in your silence lest I attack. That is what has been ingrained in you for survival, and normally it would be a good tactic. However, I am not here to argue with you about the correct course of action to save your lives. It wouldn't work, regardless. On a skill level, you are both very talented,” he gestured to you and Gyro, “but mere self–defense isn’t going to stop me from killing you both.” 

Then, he glanced over to Hot Pants and waved a hand towards him in a ‘shoo’ motion. “Passive observers aren’t needed here either. May I kindly suggest you three back away and let the man in blue come forward?” 

When he took his eyes off Hot Pants, the pink man signaled to you to begin an attack with a tap of his foot, so you subtly kicked Gyro’s leg to let him know. He gave you a kick back, unclasped a steel ball in under a second, and sent it soaring towards the guy. He drew his revolver just as fast, but the sequence of actions dictated that he would get hit first, and he did. You started to pull off to the side as Gyro’s steel ball made contact with his shoulder to help with the plan, but out of nowhere, you were back to sitting on Ever next to Gyro. 

Had you imagined everything just now? 

You rubbed your head as your mind tried to wrap around the strange feeling that was encompassing you. It felt like a very warped Deja Vu that had managed to throw you off your balance—eating away at you as your mind tried to process things. Next to you, Gyro ‌seemed to be getting the same feeling that you were. “I think…” he whispered lowly to you, pausing, “I don’t know if my steel balls will hit him. I’m not confident I’ll be able to hit his heart and that they won’t veer.” 

Your head was still swimming as you heard what he said, but up ahead someone else had started speaking. “What do you want from us?” You raised your head, going from seeing your hands on your saddle to Johnny’s back as he talked with the man. When had he gotten in front of you? “Are you a terrorist,” Johnny continued to prod him, “Are you linked with the government?” 

The guy lowered his head in a polite bow, similar to the one he gave Guacho. “I apologize for the delay, but allow me to introduce myself.” He raised his head and kept his hands at his sides before addressing all of you. “My name is Ringo Roadagain. I am a stand user, and I developed my ability three years ago in the desert. I call it Mandom, so please recognize it as such.” 

Right as he finished speaking, a pink, bloated–looking thing crawled from his back and clung to his right arm, looping tubes around his body and connecting them to his skin. The ‘bloated’ portion of it looked to be its head, containing a criss–cross pattern over it with tiny beads on it. The actual body of his stand was made up of brick–colored squares where the tubes came out from; overall, it looked pink, wiggly, and ‌disgusting. 

He slid a hand against the tubes and brought his wrist up, which was wearing a watch, to his face. “For six seconds, and not a second more or less, I can rewind time. Just now, and while you were on your horses, all I had to do was rewind time for six seconds. It was a subtle oddity that none of you could pinpoint, which kept you all here, trapped. Even though time had rewound, you still kept the memory of having traveled the entire day or the distance you crossed from that time.”

“That’s why, instead of turning at the intended route, you turned somewhere in front of it, and since you couldn’t tell the scenery apart, marking the trees would have no effect.” He pointed to the trees behind you at one section. “You marked the tree in that spot six seconds before and took that turn.” Then he slowly moved his hand down the treeline and stopped. “But you actually needed to turn six seconds later.” 

“That effect was repeated as long as I left more than six seconds' worth of time between my rewinding. I can basically keep on turning the clock backward, and that is why you will never be able to escape this orchard.”

You took all the new information in stride, using whatever he would willingly give you to try and figure out how to beat him. You felt wild, tearing up every single option around you to try to get out alive, like some cornered animal that was turned belly up. You were huffing out air in short little bursts before you stopped, slowly turned your attention to Ringo, and let your body go so slack.

You had to kill him first if you wanted to protect everyone here and leave. 

You’re not sure where the shift clicked, but somewhere within the time you had met Ringo, something changed. Before, you were the person who would say ‘I could never’ when it came to ditching your sense of righteousness. Now? Now you didn’t blink as the corpses piled up behind you for the sake of protecting Gyro and Johnny. Your heart was empty where principles used to be, and all that remained right now was hollow deduction. Every remaining scrap of kindness that you had clung onto before was melting away, sliding off your person like oil on a wet shed’s roof. 

You didn’t care anymore. Nothing else mattered to you at the moment than keeping Johnny and Gyro safe, even if it meant going to the lowest of low in how you did it. Whatever Ringo had carried with him triggered something in you all the way back from when you had first laid eyes on him. 

It convinced you that he was a target that needed to be eliminated. Immediately. 

If the way you did that was heinous, so be it; betrayal, manipulation, even sacrifice wasn’t setting off an alarm in your head. Your mind was a war zone where morality died somewhere along the way in the name of keeping those close to your heart safe. 

No sin was too great when love was the motive…

You exhaled softly as you made up your mind: you were going to kill him. 

He met your eyes and gave you a pleased smile. “I’ll be damned… Now there are two of you. Two people in front of me who have that dark determination.” Gyro twisted his neck rapidly to look at you, noticing the unhinged gleam in your eyes as you locked your attention on Ringo, your pupils shrunk into little dots of black—voids filled with the dark determination Ringo had pointed out. 

Truthfully, it left him speechless. He couldn’t grasp just what had sent you and Johnny spiraling into what was supposedly an abandonment of morals for something you wanted. He assumed Johnny wanted the corps parts… but what about you? What was your reason…? 

“What’s your objective?” Your voice brought him back to reality as you rode up to Johnny, your body language hostile. “Why would you want us to get lost?” 

Ringo looked at you both calmly as you rode forward. “I want you to attempt to kill me. A fair duel will allow me to grow as a human being. Devoid of pettiness, a murder with the darkest of intentions will raise me towards sacred heights. I am yet incomplete as a human, and there are things I must overcome. Divinity is a pursuit, and that is why I have not hidden anything from you. My abilities, my objectives, I have no reason to lie. So, I ask you humbly once again, what will you do? The choice is yours.” 

Johnny’s hand began to glow with the little stars that scattered across his skin while Gyro snapped open the pouches that contained his steel balls. Even Type O had manifested next to you in her beautiful red glory as she waited for you to command her to do something. 

“This is the true man’s world,” Ringo tried to rationalize to you all, but none of you were buying it. Johnny, especially; his entire face was twisted up in disbelief as he questioned if Ringo was even mentally sane. His demeanor shifted more towards annoyance when Ringo continued to preach his own lectures. “Do you want to condemn it as backward? This world we live in… It seems as if our values are leaning heavily towards one of spoiled indifference.” 

As soon as Ringo saw you all getting worked up, he placed a hand on his revolver and waited for the fight to commence. Unfortunately for him, Hot Pants had shrugged his shoulders and turned around to walk to his horse. “Hey, I quit. You three, let's go. He’s obviously crazy, and if we keep going on slowly, we’ll be able to make it out of here without making mistakes.” On the way to his horse, he even strode up to you and grabbed Evernight’s reins to guide your horse away from Ringo, your stand going away. “I’m not putting up with this shit anymore. Don’t indulge him any longer.” 

Ringo watched as Hot Pants guided you away from him while Johnny backed away towards Gyro. Not once did he show any trace of emotion or anger because he wasn’t getting what he wanted, but it wasn’t like he would’ve gotten the opportunity anyway. As soon as you were all backed up enough, Cream Starter shot a string of flesh towards Ringo’s right arm that was holding his gun. 

During the time you had been stalling with talking, Cream Starter had wiggled its way to the post behind Ringo’s head to get as close a shot as it could, and it paid off. His forearm came off with a sickening ‘schlick’ noise as the tissue got sliced in half before it plopped on the floor. 

Hot Pants let go of your reins and whipped around, pointing at Ringo. “Alright! All of you, I’m leaving the rest to you! Don’t let him pick up his gun with his left hand! Go,” he gave you a confident squeeze on the leg as he directed his attention to you, “do it!” You grinned at Hot Pants and held out your hand for a quick five, slapping your hands together as he reciprocated the gesture. 

With that, all hell let loose as Ringo dove for the gun on the floor, throwing his body down and crouching with an eerie unbotherdness. It was like he hadn’t even cared for the fact that his entire hand was missing and simply went down the next list of things he could do with only one functioning limb. He was so close to getting the gun too, but Johnny had shot his nails with Tusk and pummeled Ringo in the chest a few times. 

He coughed out a spew of ichor, letting out a groan. Then, you blinked, and everything had reset. 

Hot Pants was back to saying that he wasn’t putting up with this any longer, you were next to Johnny again, and Gyro was behind you all on Valkyrie. Hot Pant’s paused mid–sentence and stumbled where he was standing. “ —What?!” That was the only word he could get out before Cream Starter attacked from up on the post, but it had completely missed as Ringo stepped to the side and kept his arm in the process. 

After, it thudded against the ground and writhed. You were all stunned, hearts racing as you all watched Cream Starter thrash while Ringo observed the post it had just been on. Next to you, Johnny twitched in anxiety while his hands froze in the air, sputtering, “What?! …That was… How did he just..?!?” You couldn’t see Gyro, but you could assume from his silence and Valkyries thumping on the ground that he was in a similar state of shock. 

“Impossible!” Hot Pants shouted. He brought his arms out in front of him, now that the attack had failed, to reveal the thin hand he had taken his own flesh from. “What was that?! My spray definitely got him…!” Ringo rolled his neck and rubbed the hand that should’ve been on the floor by now. “I told you already, I can rewind time for six seconds. I was fair and explained this to you, so don’t act like I didn’t tell you.” He brought his wrist up to show the watch that he wore and tapped on the side where a small dial was. “I merely twist the knob on this wristwatch the correct amount to rewind time. That is the trigger for my Mandom.” 

Finally, he showed another ounce of emotion on his face, but unfortunately it was that of impatience—his eye twitching as he calmed himself back down. “I will ask this as many times as it takes… What do you choose? You can never escape unless you kill me.” You let out a choked gasp as he shot Hot Pant’s hand that was still connected to Cream Starter, causing a scream to rip out of ‌his throat. 

That was all it took to push Johnny over the edge. 

Ringo was a threat that was too real to ignore now, which meant he needed to go. Pure, unbridled fury sat deep in his heart, bloodlust pooling in his eyes as he set them on him. He didn’t just dislike Ringo now—he was a curse, a disease, a cancer that must be eradicated if he wanted to get to the corpse parts. He wouldn’t just want to sweep him to the side; he would rip him apart with his bare hands. 

In that moment, he was dead to everything around him but Ringo; everything else fading into the background like white noise. If he died in the process of taking Ringo down, it mattered not, because at least that meant Ringo would die first. This was a suicide mission to erase Ringo from existence—it wasn't a conflict anymore to him; it was an exorcism. 

Not even you or Gyro had the power to stop him from going after Ringo now, and thankfully, it seemed like neither of you was going to. Hot Pants was already pissed from being shot in the hand; you were ready to kill Ringo alongside him, and Gyro couldn’t back down now since you all were set on killing him. 

He was determined to keep going to get the corpse parts, even if he had to grit his teeth while doing it. He, you, and Gyro hadn’t gotten this far in the race to stop now or quit, so the only option was forward. Additionally, he wasn’t quite ready to ditch the small group that you three had formed on the side; the warmth of it alone had his heart clenching every time he saw you and Gyro. The soft moments in the night that he clung to when no one was looking, the way you made his mind fuzzy with one smile, the dumb jokes he barely tolerated that Gyro made—he wasn’t ready to stop any of it. 

It felt like the closest thing to family he had ever had besides Nicholas, and that made it all the worse if it ended here. He bit his tongue and stole one glance at you at his side, noticing the way you had positioned yourself to defend him if need be, poised and graceful. Even in a situation as horrible as this one, you were so, so beautiful—like something straight out of a syrupy dream. You might as well have stolen the breath right out of his lungs with how you made him get sometimes. 

Specifically, that vulnerable, sentimental state you somehow managed to bring out of him every time you did him a kindness that was far and few with how people treated him. The one that had tears cascading down his face in a glimmering waterfall even before he knew he was crying. And you’d always come to crush him against yourself in a heap of comfort and acceptance when you saw it happening. Even Gyro wouldn’t shy away from giving him a touch on the shoulder to let him know everything was going to be alright. 

You guys had managed to bury yourselves in his very being, making a home there, and to be fully honest with himself, he didn’t think he’d want it any other way. So when he took his eyes off you and brought them to Ringo, he didn’t hesitate to raise his hand and shoot the guy.

You let out a swear as he fired at Ringo, and as Ringo shot back at him with the revolver from his waist. It only lasted for a few seconds, but from what you could see through the smoke, was the ground with bullets and flashes of blue until they stopped abruptly. You coughed and waved your hands around you until the dust settled a bit, but as it did, your heart dropped all the way to your stomach and curled itself into a writhing mess of agony. 

Time had seemed to slow around you all as you saw Johnny get shot in the head by Ringo, right where the horseshoe on his hat fell across his forehead. As a result, it shattered on impact, and the force of the bullet had sent him flying backward and off of Slow Dancer. “No! No, no, no, no! Johnny!!” You scrambled off Evernight, hitting the floor harder than you meant to as you went around Slow Dancer to get to Johnny. You didn’t care about how Hot Pants started going for Ringo right after, exchanging shots, or where Gyro was right now; all you cared about was seeing if Johnny was alright. 

When you got around Slow Dancer, you found his body slumped on the floor with a pool of blood soaking the dirt beneath his head. He was motionless and didn’t respond to you when you shook him. “Please…” You were blinking back tears as you ripped the bottom portion of your shirt off and placed it as best you could against his head. “Please don’t give up, Johnny. You’re gonna be fine, just… Fuck, I don’t even know, but please just keep breathing…” Thankfully, it seemed like the horseshoe had prevented the bullet from reaching his brain, but he was still shot regardless and was losing a lot of blood. 

A loud crash made you snap your head up as you finished wrapping Johnny’s head. You looked behind you to see Hot Pant’s body impaled on the broken wood from the porch’s railing. Like Johnny, blood was starting to collect under him and seep into his clothes to stain them red. Your ears were ringing as you watched not one, but two of your allies get taken down in under 30 seconds.

 How could this have happened…?!

You staggered to your feet and saw Gyro hop off Valkyrie, trying to rush towards you and screaming something you couldn’t hear through the ringing. You squinted at him, confused. His face was a mix of desperation, anger, and worry as he tried to get closer to you from far away; as soon as your hearing had actually come back, the only thing you could make out was a “Sorry lass” from behind you. 

You didn’t even get a chance to dodge as something slammed into the back of your head that made the world around you go black. You passed out on top of Johnny as blood dripped on him from the wound on your head, eyes closed and motionless, but you were still breathing. 

Ringo kicked your body off Johnny so you were lying side by side, and then turned to Gyro. “So, what’s it gonna be?” It didn’t even take a moment longer from when he had said that for Gyro to let out a guttural scream and throw a steel ball his way. Reacting fast, he drew his revolver and shot a few bullets towards Gyro, hitting him in the chest successfully as the steel ball took off his right ear. 

Both of them crumpled to the ground, but it was clear that Gyro had taken much more damage than he had done to Ringo. He patted the bullet wound in his pectoral before falling to the ground on his side with a wheeze of your and Johnny’s names escaping his lips. He was pissed lying there on the ground; pissed because he wanted to do more, because he was watching everything good slip between his calloused hands, and because he had people waiting for him back in Naples, namely Marco. 

He watched Ringo stand back up and make his way to him, stopping beside your and Johnny’s unconscious bodies. “Just as I thought… You, Gyro Zeppeli, are a mere conformist. You threw that weapon even when you were out of range from the rage of losing your friends.” Ringo pointed his revolver at him as he groaned and tried to crawl to you and Johnny. “Disgusting,” Ringo spat, “You will never be able to kill me with something like that. I still have one shot left in this revolver, but I am inclined to kill those who desire to kill me with that all–encompassing dark determination. There’s no need to finish ‌you off, that would just be a waste, so get out. Leave this orchard while you can.” 

Ringo lowered his head and thanked him before grabbing one of your ankles and one of Johnny’s and dragging you both into the barely standing cabin. All he could do was let a cry escape from his throat, grasping at the dirt under him and crushing it in his grasp as it caked under his nails. 

He shuddered as he thought about how he had failed you all. You three had relied on him to stand with you and take down Ringo, but he had stayed behind in the back and let you all stand in front of the danger without lifting a finger until it was too late. Everything that he had built with you all dissolved like sugar in water, but even then, a part of him wanted to reject that reality. 

“That guy,” he managed to huff out as he collected his steel balls, “Did he do it on purpose? His gun was an 1874 Colt, meaning its firing range was the distance the steel balls had rolled, which was a step further than their bodies. Both of them are alive; I’m sure of it. Johnny’s brain could still be intact with the bullet lodged in his skull, and Ringo didn’t hit her hard enough in the head to cause permanent damage.” 

He watched Evernight wander over to him and shove his giant horse head under him to get him to stand up. “Shit, you really are something else, aren’t you?” He clung to your horse and got to his feet while giving Ever an appreciative pat on the neck. It didn’t take long after he collected himself to feel a pang deep within his heart that was setting something inside him on fire. It felt as though he was tossing aside all rationality if it meant getting you and Johnny back; willing to coat his hands in Ringo’s blood with no remorse at all.

It was then that a similar flame found itself in his eyes, his face turning to stone as he stared at the cabin, blood still coating his lips but not caring enough to wipe it away. Was this what came over you and Johnny? This feeling of dark determination? It had to have been; there was no other explanation for why he felt the need to get you guys back this badly, by any means necessary, too. He didn’t care that the steel balls weren’t supposed to be used in battle. Today, they were going to shed blood, and their shiny green surface would turn red, coated in the thick substance he normally abhors. 

For the first time since he had been given the title, Gyro Zeppeli felt thankful to be an executioner. All the training he had done and all the pressure he had been put under were suddenly something that had him taking confident steps towards the creaky wood of the porch. 

He was supposed to be the reluctant executioner, the one behind the blade who hated it all. His hands were permanently stained with guilt due to the duty he was forced to uphold—pieces of his spirit dying with every life he took. But as he stood there, faced with the choice of saving you both or letting you die… he knew what his answer was. 

Suddenly, picking up the invisible blade didn’t seem so bad. Where the weight of his duty should’ve been was now replaced with the sweet relief of purpose; Ringo wasn’t an enemy anymore to him, he was a gift. A human–shaped present wrapped in the prettiest paper with a bow on top, all for him. Ringo hadn’t even known it yet, but he had just given Gyro something he had never had before: a reason to be the monster without the guilt. Finally. 

(Johnny Joestar x reader x Gyro Zeppeli)

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Immediately after, you all started to go back into the forest and try to find a way out. Each tree you passed was a physical representation of the seconds you were losing in the race. A part of you almost wanted to keep track of the number of skinny white trees you whipped by to know how much time you lost, but the other part of you wanted to remain in ignorant bliss to not remind yourself of the situation you were in.

You were beginning to sweat even more than you had before, your shirt becoming damp with patches rather than the sheen coat you had been wearing a few minutes prior. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw those sharp, piercing blue ones that the white man had. It was weird. Something was almost calling you to him, dragging your very being towards the danger that resided in that house. 

Another thing that was weird was when your eyes were open, you swore you could see the hanging corpse of that cow strung out on different branches, but then you would blink, and it would be gone, as if it had never been there. You swore you weren’t schizophrenic, so what the hell was happening?! 

Why were that man and the cow appearing so much to you in these weird visions that you had no control over? 

Suddenly, everything around you looked like it was melting, becoming blurred and distorted with tons of different colors clouding your vision. Gyro and Johnny, who were riding in front of you, turned into barely recognizable blobs of purple and blue, blending as they swirled around—probably from the bounce of the horse. 

You tried to say something, to get out a word of what was wrong, but it was like your body wouldn’t cooperate. Your mind was completely fine and processed everything normally, but your other senses fought for control over what was happening to you. 

You started running through endless possibilities of what could be causing your current situation. The first thing you thought of was a stand attack, but you were sure none of you were being attacked through the drunken state of your senses. You realized that was also another possibility, that you were somehow drunk, even if you hadn’t consumed an ounce of anything with booze, but that still didn’t make sense.

As the seconds passed, you could feel yourself being dragged further into unconsciousness, your vision slowly being swallowed up by the creeping blackness in your periphery. Below you, Ever stopped moving forward and tried bringing his face around to see you. He could feel you slumped on his back, motionless and two seconds away from falling off him. He let out a deafening whinny, causing Gyro and Johnny to look behind them, seeing you tip over the side of Evernight and fall with the full force of your weight. 

Gyro was jumping off Valkyrie and running to you before Johnny could realize what had just happened. “Shit… shit! Hey, wake up,” Gyro slid on the ground, dirt caking his pants as he leaned over you. He shook your shoulders a few times before he placed his hand over your forehead, but you weren’t running a fever. 

You appeared sickly and pale, sweat still coating you as you took shaky inhales, but you had no physical symptoms besides those few. There was no coughing, no phlegm he could hear in your breathing, no high temperatures, nothing. He started running through the list of every illness he had learned, trying to figure out what just caused you to go from fine to completely passed out in less than 10 minutes. 

Johnny spun off of Slow Dancer and was now on your other side while pushing your hair out of your face. “What’s wrong with her?” He was stressed out now, confused and worried about what was going on with you. Gyro got up and started rummaging through his belongings on Valkyrie. “I don’t know. She’s not sick, but she’s not well either. Just hold her for me; I’m going to try and figure out what it is.” 

Johnny watched as Gyro came back with his medkit and some other tools he didn’t recognize. Soon, your head was resting on Johnny’s lap as Gyro ran the tiny number of tests he could, yet any results he got back indicated you were healthy. 

“Fuck,” Gyro swore, “we don’t have time for this, but we’re not just gonna leave her here.” Johnny agreed with that; you three had wasted enough time in this orchard, and now you were down with something they had no idea how to take care of. Both of them agreed you were more important than the race though, and that if it came down to it, they’d choose your health over trying to minimize all of your race time. 

Deep inside your soul, however, you were experiencing something that couldn’t be explained at all. One second you were fighting to stay on your horse, the next you were lying in a field of wheat and staring up at a wonderful blue sky. You groaned and slowly sat up, the wheat tickling you as you tried to get a bearing for your surroundings. 

You got up and stood in the middle of the giant field, seeing it stretch for miles with no end in sight. No matter which way you looked, there was only wheat and open sky. Just where the hell were you? 

“Home” 

You spun around and saw your stand drowning in the wheat field, just as you were. She lifted a shiny red arm and pointed past your head, so you turned back around, and to your shock, your house was there. Existing. You squinted your eyes at the building that hadn’t been there moments ago and looked back at your stand as she started to glide towards the house. 

“Were you the one who spoke just now?” You started parting the wheat to catch up to her as some of it caught on your clothes and ghosted against your skin. Oddly enough, she didn’t answer you and kept moving towards the house. You kicked your legs forward and weaved between the golden plants until you broke out of the maze of wheat to look at the red woman standing on your porch. You stumbled for a second and wiped ‌your clothes. 

…Hold on. Those had changed too! Instead of your riding gear, you found yourself in your casual farm clothes that you wore when you went out to work. You hadn’t taken these clothes with you at all when you left for the Steel Ball Run, so how did they get on you? You felt the breeze wash over you—your hair dancing in its wake as you took in more of what was happening.

 “Follow”, you heard that voice call again. You faced the red woman as she began to enter your house. You were still very bewildered, but you didn't know what else to do, so you heeded her command and went into your house. Thankfully, it did seem like she was the one talking and not some other cosmic deity in this weird space. 

You opened the door to your house and followed her in, but the scenery had changed again. What you saw now was the inside of a meat plantation that had rows upon rows of hanging cattle from hooks, waiting to be chopped up. If your memory served you correctly, this was the factory that most of the cows you sold off went to be killed and processed. 

It smelled rancid in there, but you paid it little mind as you clicked your shoes to follow the red lady. “This doesn’t look like home anymore, y’know?” You called after her as you strode past all the random chunks of meat that were littered on tables, freshly cut. She stopped for a second in the aisle you both stood in and turned her head towards you to nod once. So she could understand what you were saying, kinda like Tusk could. 

“Can you at least tell me where we are? I’m gonna take a safe bet and guess we’re not in reality.” She didn’t acknowledge you and kept going, so you strode past the rows of hooks as they clinked against one another to create a rhythmic ambiance in the background. You passed more cattle until you reached the back of the factory where the cold storage was. 

When you got there, it was freezing, definitely below zero degrees Celsius to keep the products fresh; it was so frigid you could even see your breath. As you wandered, you observed the walls lined with metal shelves that contained packages with no legible words on them, all covered in frost. It looked like words didn’t really form here or couldn’t be because any that were on the boxes looked like prints of scribbles. 

You had stopped to make sense of how the rules of this place worked before ‌someone tapped your shoulder. Right, your stand was trying to show you something—at least that’s what you thought. You continued to walk behind her, sometimes getting lost in thought. 

She turned around to make sure you were still with her and continued smoothly gliding on the air until she reached another door. This time, when you both went through it, you found yourself in a graveyard. 

There was silky grass all around and tons of headstones that were decorated with wet moss and delicate flowers. As the door closed behind you, it faded out of sight and left you and the lady in the graveyard. You exhaled and waited for the lady to start walking again, but this time she didn’t move and instead waved you forward to explore. You shot her a curious look and started to wander around, crushing blades of grass beneath your feet and leaving imprints of your shoes. 

You stopped a few times to see if there were any directions or notes that would indicate where you were supposed to go, but there wasn’t anything for you. Just more moss and flowers with the occasional firefly that drifted by. 

One of them that passed your face glowed a little brighter than the others, so with nothing better to do, you began to follow its path. Your eyes were looking up as you followed the little bug, so you weren’t watching where you were going and almost tripped over something. Stunned, you looked down and noticed you had bumped against a headstone. When you crouched down to look at it, you read something that made you freeze. 

On the headstone was your father’s name, age, lifespan, and cause of death. Your breathing quickened as you ran to another headstone, your feet tripping over themselves. You gripped another stone to read it, but it was illegible like the boxes in the cold storage—the words blurred together and were unable to form anything readable. The only thing that was able to be read was your father’s headstone.

That awareness hit you, and you suddenly understood that you were in the graveyard where your father was buried. You don’t remember there being so much greenery, though… When you had buried your pa, the spot you and your mother had chosen was close to the farm so he could rest easy with your family. It wasn’t whatever this lush meadow was… 

Freaked out as you were, you couldn’t lie and say it wasn’t beautiful here. 

The red woman placed her hand on the cold stone and tilted her head in respect, as if she knew he was buried there. Maybe she did, actually, with her being the manifestation of your soul and all that. 

As a matter of fact, that might just be it, you thought. Whatever this subliminal space was, it contained areas of your past that you had experienced in your life that left an impact on you. Moreover, it would explain the sudden ability of your stand to communicate in something that wasn’t Latin and how she could also remain here without you willing her out. 

You had to be somewhere in the line between your mind and your soul. You had started at your childhood home and were wiggling your way down your life and into the concurrent events that you’d lived through. But why? 

You stood up and rested by your stand as she continued to observe the gravestone. “What are we doing here? Were you the reason I passed out? How’d I even get here?” You were slowly piling questions on her and hoping she had the answers to them. “Can you take me back to Gyro and Johnny?” 

"Yes." 

Okay, that was a start at least. You noted that she didn’t speak much and started to walk with her since she had grabbed your hand to guide you to what you hoped was an exit. Eventually, she took you to a nearby well and stared straight down into it; there wasn’t even a ladder or anything to get down. 

“Do I have to?” You wanted to get back to the waking world as soon as you could, but jumping into eerie wells with no bottom in sight was definitely a deterrent. 

"Yes." 

You groaned and sat on the edge of the stones, your legs dangling over the edge. You were there for a few minutes trying to hype yourself up to just do it, but your own stand had gotten fed up and pushed you into the abyss. How was your own stand a traitor to yourself?! Your eyes slammed shut as you let out a prolonged scream, free-falling into the well. Your body had nothing to ground itself to, so you had to suck it up as butterflies erupted in your stomach as you crashed down. 

Luckily, as soon as it came, it was gone. You opened your eyes, and you were now in the city holding a slice of beef with a tag on it, waiting to sell it. It appeared you were on the day you had found the Steel Ball Run poster in the market. The red woman had even gotten the damn flyer and was waving it in front of your face like a trophy…

She put the flyer down and grabbed your shoulders, clutching the new clothes you found yourself in again. Similar to when you were in front of your house, you were now wearing the clothes you had worn to the market. 

“Sickness, you must collect sickness,” she airily whispered.

You kicked the dirt and puffed your cheeks, “What does that even mean? I was already coming down with something before I got dragged here, which, for me to be this self–aware of being wherever ‘here’ is, I think I should get a medal or something!” 

“Go to the hanged cow. I will show you… Our time is limited here.” 

Well, that’s not ominous at all. 

She ‌grabbed your wrist and dragged you forward through the market until you got to a tarp she pulled aside. Thankfully, this seemed to be the last space jump. When you went through it, the sight of your collapsed body resting on Johnny’s lap greeted you as Gyro gave you some water. Strange… It was like you were viewing the current events of reality, except you weren’t there and existed as some sort of spectator to your own body.

You observed Gyro and Johnny as they both looked conflicted, unsure of what to do for you and if you were okay. You tried resting a hand on Johnny’s shoulder, but it passed right through him as if you were a ghost. Yep. Still not in the real world right now…

You turned back to the red woman and stared her down. “If stands can just communicate outside of this place, why even bring me here at all? Tusk has spoken normally in the times he does, so why go this far if it was your doing for all this?” 

Her veil shifted as she responded to you, “It’s…limited out there. My will is more present here, whereas yours is more present back there.” 

“So you can talk more here?” 

"Yes."

That seemed contradictory to how you knew stands to work; she should be a manifestation of your soul that abides by your will, yet here she was claiming that she had a will of her own. Wasn’t her will technically supposed to be yours? Then again, Tusk had acted out on his own a few times that Johnny hadn’t prompted him to do. You came to the deduction that stands were a part of someone's will, but they also acted on that will as a part of their own. 

Essentially, they were doing the things that you would do if you had no restrictions, or they were doing things that reflected portions of yourself deep down that you had no idea about. For you, there must be something deep inside you that had a connection to sickness that you weren’t aware your soul represented, but now with your stand, she could act on that connection. 

You sighed. 

That felt like all the answers you were going to get for now without making things complicated. You were going to ask her how you were supposed to return and if she was going to suck you back into this memory mess anytime soon, but you had already woken up before you knew it. 

You blinked your eyes open and were pleasantly happy to see Johnny’s face hovering above your own as you rested on him. It was comfy, and in your lethargic state, you had buried your face into his stomach without realizing what you were doing. He simply carded his fingers through your hair and let you stay where you were so you couldn’t see how red his face was and just how much he was dying on the inside. Johnny was debating if he was experiencing heaven or hell right now, and Gyro was debating which one of you he should slam a steel ball into. You for scaring the hell out of him, and Johnny for yet again getting to be on the receiving end of your affection.  

Above you, Johnny had rolled you away from his stomach and back onto his legs before asking you if you were alright. “I'm okay,” you reassured them, but Gyro wasn’t having any of it and had gone full mother hen mode on you—giving you water, taking your temperature again, and even carrying you back to Evernight, much to Johnny’s dismay. 

“Are you sure? We can rest for a bit more if you need it,” Gyro insisted. He helped you get settled back onto Ever before bringing Slow Dancer to Johnny to get him situated too. 

“I'm positive. You wouldn’t believe what just happened to me!” They both turned their attention to you and waited for you to continue. “My stand brought me to some weird mental subspace and told me to go back to the cow corpse we saw. I’m also pretty confident she was the one who was making me have hallucinations.” 

“You were having hallucinations?!” Johnny was aghast at what you were explaining to them, because what do you mean you had just passed out, went from fine to ill to fine, and were having hallucinations?! And you were being so chill about it too!?

“To be honest, I did try to say something, but she dragged me away before I could get anything out.” 

Gyro looked at you like you were a crazy witch lady who lived in the forest and feasted on children, “To tell you to go to the cow?” 

You nodded. “To tell me to go to the cow.” They both were gonna go bald before the age of 40, they swore it. Now on your left, Johnny had raised a hand, “I think we should do as her stand says. We went to where Tusk told us to go, and we found another corpse part, so I think it’s worth backtracking for.” You all considered his logic and came to the consensus that he was right, so you began to head back towards the cow corpse again. 

What hadn’t been addressed yet was why you had seen the man in white so much when you had closed your eyes in that hazy state. Maybe it was a side effect of the trauma he had caused you, or it genuinely could’ve been something important. You didn’t know.

Whatever, it's gonna have to wait, you reasoned. 

You were about to leave, but your stand had manifested again, drawing everyone's attention to her. You all watched her as she floated by your side before yanking your arm out and turning it upward so she could have access to the inside of your elbow. Out of nowhere, a syringe extended from her palm with a tube that connected it back to her hand. 

You couldn’t even prepare for what your own stand did next. 

All your eyes widened in horror as she injected the syringe into the inside of your elbow and drew up a small amount of blood from it. “Blood Type: O Negative,” she noted, and put the syringe away. “Status: Healthy.” In your head, you could suddenly visualize what you thought was a report on yourself that contained your current and past medical history. You saw your name, blood type, weight, height, date of birth, and current state of health. 

Gyro looked at your stand in amusement as he approached her and tried to inspect the syringe, but she didn’t let him. “Did you know she could do that?” he asked, referring to the whole ‘getting your blood type with the new syringe’. “No,” you returned truthfully, “Whatever that was, it’s new.” He and Johnny looked at you while taking in the recent development, wondering what kind of use it had. You rubbed the spot your stand had just stuck you in, “I’m also looking at some weird medical file on myself…” 

Johnny looked at your hands to see the supposed file you were talking about, but there wasn’t anything you were holding. “...Where?” You lifted your head to see them both waiting for an answer or to reveal the invisible report you had mentioned. Right, they didn’t know it wasn’t actually a physical paper. 

You tapped the side of your head and they each let out a respective ‘ah’. You all sat there on your horses, eyeing your stand before Gyro had rushed over to you on Valkyrie to offer you his arm.

“Try it on me!” He thrust his exposed arm towards you, which only made you deadpan at him. 

“You want me to stick you with my stand’s syringe? The one thing that we don’t have any real information about?” He nodded vigorously and slapped his arm in encouragement. 

“How are we gonna get any information otherwise? Plus, I’m a little excited to see what it can do if it’s giving you a report on yourself! Nyo Ho!” You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed before you willed your stand to do whatever it had done with you to Gyro. 

“You got issues, Gyro,” Johnny commented as he came closer to you both to see what was happening. Still, you and Johnny smiled anyway, because no matter how weird Gyro could be at times, he was still irreplaceable to you both. 

After that quick smile break, you three observed as your stand extended the syringe and drew some of Gyro’s blood until it deemed it enough and returned the syringe to its palm. Just like yourself, you had a mini report of Gyro’s diagnostics and a confirmation status report that said he was healthy. 

Gyro poked your side, a little impatient to see what his results were. “Well?” he inquired, some of his hair draping over his shoulder as he leaned forward. “Same thing,” you replied, “I’ve got a bunch of information that you’d get from going to the doctor and a confirmation you're not ill.” 

“Even my blood type?” 

You nodded, “AB, right?” 

He whistled and placed a hand on his hip, “Damn, your stand really is giving you a report on me, huh?” At that instant, Johnny groaned before jutting his own arm out for you to do a test run on. He loathed needles or any kind of health checkup due to what that cursed ward had done to him in the past—shoving a newspaper into his mouth to silence his cries and drawing his blood without his consent. 

He could still remember the feeling of the needle in his skin as his blood slowly drained from him when he woke up scared and confused. He didn’t even want to think about the fact that they let him rot in his own waste, too. Still, he was willing to put those fears aside if it meant he could help you in some way. 

Your concern spiked as you noticed his apprehension, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Johnny. I’m sure we can get more clues on my stand somewhere else.” 

“N–No, I trust you. I’m just not a fan of all the medical shit…” His eyes shifted downward like the mere mention of it had struck him like a hot iron. You were about to reassure him again, but surprisingly, he offered you and Gyro an insight into his past. “Obviously, I wasn’t always paralyzed,” his voice filled with a distant lull that carried an undertone of grief, “but right after I was, I woke up in a nurses' ward with my neck in a brace and naked cept’ for some bandages around my waist. There was even a pouch that had been filling with my blood from a needle that was placed shitty.” 

He swallowed thickly, “By the time I was fully awake, I realized I had no control over my legs and had been in my own shit for god knows how long. The male nurse on call shoved a wad of newspaper into my mouth when I started freaking out and demanding help.” He ran a thumb over a vein in his arm. “I learned my lesson on that one.” After that, he went quiet and jutted his arm out towards you again, wanting to get it over with. 

You and Gyro stared at him in disbelief. Surely no one would actually treat a patient like that, nor would anyone think to shut a person up like that by putting paper in their mouth?! You felt horrible and enraged, disgusted that anyone could treat him like that. Gyro was even swearing under his breath, also upset at the fact that Johnny had gone through something like that. 

“Before both of you start getting angry on my behalf, it was a long time ago, and if I’m being honest with myself, I had it coming. I don’t…” he tried to find the words, “I’m not proud of who I used to be.” 

That had you and Gyro halting and filling your minds with follow–up questions. Why was he saying he had it coming? Had he done something wrong in his past? You shook your head; you didn’t care what he had done. Regardless of their actions, no one should face such treatment. Everyone deserves modesty and respect; people shouldn't kick those already down. 

Gyro clenched his teeth before spitting on the ground. “I don’t care, fuck that nurse. We’re human, and we make mistakes, but that doesn’t mean we should be punished for it. Whatever you did that makes you think you deserved that, you didn’t. By the looks of it, you’re sorry and have made a real effort to recognize your mistakes and learn from it, and in the end, that’s all we can do sometimes.” 

You hummed and agreed, “I’m sure we've all done things we're not proud of, but those moments don't define us.” Your eyes softened as you looked at him, your voice honeyed and sweet. “And if I know anything about you, Johnny, it’s that you are more deserving of kindness than a lot of people out there. You and Gyro have treated me better than any of the men I’ve had the unfortunate chance to interact with. For me, that alone speaks more than words ever could.” 

Gyro gave Johnny’s back a good slap, “She’s not wrong; I’ve met some pretty horrible people back in Naples. I can’t even list the things people have done in their lives that got them sent my way, and you are none of them. Not unless you did some heinous crime that we don’t know about.” 

Johnny grinned at that, getting lost in the warmth that was you and Gyro. “Does eating one of Valkyrie’s sugar cubes count?” He rubbed the back of his head as you snorted off to the side. 

Gyro’s jaw dropped in feigned offense, but also some genuine, playful shock. “Great, now I have one of you sneaking snacks to my horse while the other is robbing my horse of snacks!” Johnny turned his head to you, “Are you slipping Valkyrie food?” 

You felt suddenly exposed with the spotlight on you now, “I might be…” Johnny smiled, dumbfounded by everything, comforted with his past, and overall was glowing. “Wait,” he paused, “have you been giving Slow Dancer food too?” You froze. 

He pointed a finger at you, your silence exposing your guiltiness. “I knew it! I thought I heard her crunching on something before I went to bed last night!” On the side and baffled, Gyro slowly turned his head toward you since you had not only been feeding Valkyrie, but you had also somehow managed to scrap together enough to feed Slow Dancer as well. 

“They look so hungry though!” you cried, trying to defend yourself. Gyro and Johnny looked at each other, looked at you, and then pounced on you simultaneously. Now, you had Johnny holding you ‌down on Ever as Gyro rummaged through your pouches to find where you had been stashing the treats. 

“Holy Shit! She might as well have a whole damn fruit market in here!” Gyro unlatched one of the bags strapped to Ever and opened it for Johnny to see as you hung your head in defeat. There, in your secret fruit bag, had been a tiny mountain of apples, berries, pears, and any fruit you had managed to collect on the road. You’d even swiped some plums from the orchard and had put them in there. 

Johnny’s eyes bulged out of his head at what he saw, “Jesus! You had that with you the entire time?! And our horses were getting the best of it?! Gyro, you better toss me one of those right now.” Gyro grinned and grabbed a pear, throwing it to Johnny who had let you go, “Already on it.” 

Johnny bit into it while Gyro took some fruit for himself, then he turned to you with a mouthful of pear, “Thanks for the food.” You grumbled at the two thieves, but the corners of your mouth betrayed your fake grouchiness. He was about to take an apple from the bag Gyro was holding, but Gyro had slapped his hand away. “You only get a pear for stealing sugar cubes from my precious Valkyrie.” 

Johnny rubbed his hand while you tried not to laugh. “Bastard…” he muttered under his breath. 

When you had calmed down from trying not to laugh, Johnny offered you the pear he had been working on. He looked away with a shy smile as you took the pear and bit into it, kicking Evernight into a trot as you all finally started to make your way to the cow corpse. Gyro enjoyed his apple while you and Johnny took turns munching on the pear, all of you content to enjoy simple intimacy. 

As Johnny finished up the pear, you turned to him and rested a hand on his knee. “Don’t worry about me taking a blood sample from you; we can always get more somewhere else, and I don’t wanna make you relive what you went through. Your feelings matter more to me than that sample ever will.” You paused, meeting his eloquent blue eyes. “...you mean more to me than that sample ever will.” He looked back at you and felt a deep sense of something rosy wash over him, beautiful and consuming—rich in its wake that left him feeling flushed. 

Even though he made it apparent that he was willing to toss aside his reservations about medical procedures, you hadn’t abused that trust and put him in a situation that he was obviously less than comfortable being in. Regrettably, he was so used to people using him to get what they wanted, whether it be money, fame, status, etc, that he had never tried to take into consideration what it would be like for someone to put his wants above their own. 

Yet you had done it so flawlessly that it left him shaky and warm. You had him drowning in a passion that was so intense that it made the mere concept of it look like a joke. Where passion was sometimes light and fleeting, his was a dark red that bled into everything and consumed his entire being, burning with a quiet intensity that stained the air around him like wine. He could barely meet your eyes as his hands trembled, but not from you being near or from relief, but from the sheer, overwhelming rightness he felt.

Every time he tried to speak, the words wilted in his mind and caught in his throat like a moth caught in honey. When you tried to peek at his face, he whipped it to the side and coughed as if someone had caught him doing something illicit. You just assumed he choked on his spit and patted his leg before returning your hand to your reins and snapping them forward. Gyro, who had caught the interaction, gave him a knowing look and a devious grin. 

“Oh, fuck off.” Johnny rolled his eyes, face still flushed, and flipped Gyro off before going to join you up ahead. Gyro cackled before he caught up with you two. 

You were all riding to the cow corpse as your stand asked you to, with Johnny off in his own world, you digging around for another fruit, and Gyro dusting off something fuzzy and pink in his bag. You were about to ask what the heck the small–looking item was before he hurriedly stashed it in his bag and flashed you a sunny smile; yeah, that was definitely a ‘please don’t question me about it’ smile. 

You were curious about the contents of whatever he tried to smuggle back into his bag, but decided to let him be for now. You could always pester him about it later, which would probably lead to a chain of you and him going back and forth to see who could mess with the other person more. Consequently, that led you down a path of conjuring up scenarios for the future in which you could have some fun with him. 

You were thinking about the possibilities before something heavy plopped onto your shoulder. You looked slightly ‌to the side to see Gyro taking up a spot on your shoulder with his eyes closed and using you as a pillow—like how Johnny had earlier. Gyro decided he was done watching Johnny get all the good stuff, so he took matters into his own hands, and damn was he happy he did. 

As soon as you had clocked who was on your shoulder, you took his hat off and placed it on your lap to comb out his hair with your fingers. He hummed in bliss and shoved himself further into your side, catching some of your hair on his face but not minding it. “Your neck's gonna hurt by the time we get to the cow if you stay there,” you commented softy, tugging on the baby hairs at the nape of his neck which made him shiver. 

“I can just fix that with the spin,” he muttered, “just lemme stay here for a bit.” 

You leaned your head against his. “Alright.” 

You even placed a small kiss on his temple that caused him to stiffen for a second before he was shoving his head toward your mouth. “One more,” he demanded. Your eyes widened. He was gonna kill you at this rate… You tucked his hair behind his ear and gave him another fragile kiss on his bronzed skin. 

He shoved his head against you again. 

“Greed is a sin, you know that, right? I’ll be here all day if you keep that up.” You laughed quietly as he gave you an actual pout. You couldn’t believe it; the Gyro Zeppeli was pouting on your shoulder because you weren’t giving him as much attention as he wanted. He puffed up his cheeks and closed his eyes in stubborn refusal, crossing his arms. 

“You gonna force me back to Naples to go to confession or something? Make a priest absolve me of my sins?” He was leaning more of his weight on you now, where he was almost halfway off Valkyrie. “No, but if we eat shit, I’m blaming you and your greediness.” He snickered against your skin before he got off you and took his hat back. 

Somehow, you were starting to get into the habit of giving out more physical affection than you had in years, specifically towards Gyro and Johnny. The thought of giving comforting or playful kisses to anyone else was repulsive to you and hadn’t even crossed your mind until you wondered about it right now. Maybe if they were really close to you, but no one had come to mind except maybe Mountain Tim. Even then, he wasn’t super close to you, and you had really only spent a few days getting to know him. 

Ignoring him, your attention was still on the minor, meaningful changes happening within you. The kisses had yet to wander into a territory from which they couldn’t come back ‌and had remained, for the most part, harmless. Thankfully, neither Gyro nor Johnny had been averse to your kisses and had instead welcomed them wholeheartedly. 

You bit the inside of your cheek. 

Were they just being friendly, or was there a reason they had been so open to you? Johnny’s kiss on your neck had you inclined to believe there might be something more there, but you didn’t want to assume anything just yet. That would have to be a conversation for later, if there was even evidence to have one. And as far as Gyro went, his insistence on you lavishing him with attention didn’t seem so far off for his character, but it was still flagging something down in your mind. 

You were stuck between thinking you were reading too much into it or not reading into it enough. On one hand, you could just be mistaking their friendliness for something else, which would make you a blabbering fool, or there could actually be some interest there from at least one of them that you’d need to do an entire other evaluation for. You wouldn’t even know what to do in the case that they both had an interest in you. 

Whatever, it was gonna have to wait. You had the orchard to get out of first before you went down that emotional dumpster fire. 

You were going to ask Johnny for his input on what he thought your stand’s new ability meant, but he had still been off in his head with a delighted look on his face, smiling softly to himself. You figured that could also wait until you got to the cow, so you all trudged on for the minutes it took to get there. 

When you arrived, the cow corpse had still been hanging there, but what you didn’t think you were going to see was a feral fox tearing up ‌a part of the cow. It had matted hair and seemed ready to bite something at any moment, likely carrying ticks and numerous diseases. 

Was this what your stand wanted you to see?

Gyro grimaced when he saw the way it twitched occasionally and made garbled noises; even Johnny’s eye twitched at the mangy thing's appearance. You hopped off Evernight and gave him a solid pat before you started walking towards the fox. 

“The hell are you walking towards it for?” Johnny faced you on Slow Dancer and leaned forward to inspect you closer. “I think it stands to reason if my stand wants us here, it probably has to do with that fox. I don’t really find the thought of it appealing all that much, but if my stand can take blood samples from people, I think it can take blood samples from animals.” You jutted a finger towards the fox, “And that is the only living one around here that my stand could want me to take a sample from.” 

Johnny sat straight up on Slow Dancer and pointed his hand toward the fox as his nails spun with the familiar energy of the spin, a low hum coming from his hand. “Do what you gotta. Gyro and I will watch it to make sure it doesn’t bite if it's carrying something.” Next to him, Gyro had given you a thumbs-up and taken out a steel ball. 

“Alright, watch my back for me,” you called as you approached the fox. 

When you got within a few feet of it, you could see it ripping apart the meat of the cow it had gotten, sinking its small teeth into the flesh and devouring it with no remorse. Your stand ‌materialized beside you and got out the syringe to get a blood sample from the fox, but right when you were about to stick it, the fox placed its beady eyes on you and hissed. 

This little fucker is totally gonna lunge, isn't it? You took another slow step towards it as it raised its hackles and kept growling at you. From behind you, a green steel ball came bounding forward and made contact with the fox’s back, calming it in a matter of seconds. Perfect. 

You took the window Gyro gave you and willed your stand’s syringe forward to get blood from the fox and ran back as soon as it was done. After, you heard a high–pitched wail coming from behind you as you reached Ever. You turned around and saw the fox writhing on the ground in agony, rolling in the dirt before a bright blue nail sunk into its skull. 

You paused getting on Evernight to look at Johnny, the glow of his nails slowly dimming. He looked a little conflicted before ultimately shaking his head and resting back on his horse. “Nature can be cruel, but it’s for the best,” you heard Gyro speak up as he watched the last of the fox’s life go, “that thing would’ve infected someone if it had the chance to.” 

He was right, and as much as it felt wrong to say it, killing the fox was the right thing to do. What made it worse was that you were pretty positive no one had any reservations about killing it that quickly; there was no consideration for its life before you all silently agreed killing it was the best course of action. You hadn’t even blinked as it was done.

It made you question where the line was when it came to deciding what lived and what didn’t, and how that line applied to people. So far, you had all been putting down every single stand user that had attempted your lives, but was it possible to have turned them into the sheriffs and have them apprehended? You closed your eyes and shifted your weight from side to side on Evernight. Realistically, you knew that wasn’t possible; even if you had them locked away, they would just get out again as Oyecomova had. In this world, killing was a staple, and there weren’t a lot of options that would secure your safety any other way. Maybe one day there would be… 

“Species: Vulpes vulpes (red fox).” 

You jumped at the sudden voice and turned to your stand, who had started to speak again. How had she started speaking English…?

You all waited to see if she would say anything else, but instead of speaking directly, she had started communicating with you in your head. “Status: Infected. Rabies and leptospirosis are carried by this fox. You may use the leptospirosis, but the rabies are not within my abilities yet.” 

A new file had appeared in your head; this time, it carried a diagnostic on the fox and had been categorized under something labeled ‘available diseases’. You were kind of making sense of what was happening, but you were unsure of what the purpose of it was or what it did. 

Gyro and Johnny watched you and your stand with fervor, but they were pleasantly surprised when you spoke up. “I’m not sure why, but my stand can identify if a living being is diseased or not. I’ve also got some weird thing in my head that’s telling me I can use the diseases?”

Johnny flicked his eyes to the dead fox and then back to you, “How does that even work?” 

“I’m not sure,” you told the truth, a pit of confusion growing in you, “I’m not gonna have any answers for you guys until I can experiment more with it.” Gyro’s expression hardened as he finished sanitizing the steel ball he used to calm the fox. 

“What information did it give you?” You assumed he was referencing if your stand had given you the same diagnostics on the fox that it had done with yourself and him. 

“Well, you heard it give us what species it was. Besides that, it told me that it was diseased with rabies and leptospirosis, plus some other minor stuff like how old it was and its weight. No blood type though; I think that’s something that only applies to humans since animals don't share the same blood types we have.” He took in what you said and then pulled out a book that he had in his travel bag. 

He flipped through its pages for a second before tapping on a spot in the book. “You said leptospirosis, right?” You and Johnny tilted your heads at the name, not really understanding what it was. Everyone was aware of rabies, but the new disease hadn’t rung a bell at all.

“I did,” you confirmed, “do you know what that is?” He nodded and handed you the book so you could see for yourself, Johnny coming up beside you to read as well. 

“There’s hardly been any research on it, but my family works with unknown diseases all the time. Usually they don’t have a name, and we have to go off symptoms to find the root cause, but this one had come across a man my father treated when he took over the clinic.” You listened and read as he explained. 

The book didn’t have much, but from what it did have, you found out that Leptospirosis was a disease that humans could contract through infected urine, water, or even soil. It targeted the kidneys and had origins in Asia that seemed to be spreading across the globe. 

“I doubt it’ll be coined for a while. Most people will assume it's a side effect of fevers for now.” Gyro started to ride forward as you and Johnny joined him. 

Johnny cracked his fingers idly. “Why wouldn’t you want to make it more known? If your clinic back in Naples could help more people by spreading knowledge about the things you find, why wouldn’t it?” That question seemed to strike a chord in Gyro as his shoulder slumped a little. 

“It’s a matter of duty rather than medicinal philanthropy. Think of it like this: if you were a king, and you had your own personal executioner and clinic combo that could benefit your own country, you’d want to covet it for yourself, right? Making diseases known and giving out ways to stop them would benefit a lot of people, sure, but it would also be giving away a card in your deck.” 

He gave off the energy of someone who had gone through this exact conversation many times and hadn’t gotten a response he’d liked. “The king doesn’t permit any of the eldest Zeppeli’s disclosing our knowledge to outsiders in the hopes we don’t benefit potential enemies. Duty over sentimentality, or at least that’s what my father says.” 

Johnny’s eyes rested closed, thinking about the rough nature of Gyro’s job and how it seemed like he shared a similar relationship with his father as Johnny did with his own. He didn’t want to comment on it and make him uncomfortable, though; lord knows what he‌'s had to go through. 

Unfortunately, you were a little rash with subjects like that and had opened your mouth before Johnny could stop it. “You say that like you disagree with him. Do you?” Johnny winced, but to his surprise, Gyro answered you openly.

Gyro sighed and clenched his teeth. “He wants me to kill people without question and not even consider who they might be or what they’ve done.” His mind swirled with the memories of all the times he tried to talk to his father or open up about his feelings, only to be met with the same response: not to be sentimental. “I’m expected to act like a robot and succeed my predecessors, but all I want is consent. My old man wants me to suck it up and end people's lives like it's nothing, like I'm not sitting here ripping their souls from their bodies. For the pride of our family and the country, he says.” 

His jaw went tight, the muscles in his neck straining under the weight of his emotions. “So yes, I disagree with him—especially for Marco. I’m not killing that kid, and that’s why I have to win this race. I don’t care if I'm being sentimental; things need to change, and I need my father to see that.” 

You and Johnny were stunned at his open disapproval of his father’s means of executing people. Regardless, it made you and Johnny happy to see he was pursuing something he thought was just, and that he was breaking the detached cycle his family had been put through. It did present an issue, however: if Gyro needed to win as badly as you did, how were you guys going to compromise who won and who didn’t? You still needed to keep your family and farm safe, but he also had a very pressing matter in Naples that he needed to take care of, which frankly, was much more important than your own issues. 

Things just kept piling on your plate that you wish would evaporate into particles and float away with the wind. Overall, you had the issue of the orchard, possibly that creepy man who killed Guacho, your stand’s weird developments, and now how winning the race was going to work. 

With that in mind, you were already coming to a sacrifice before you could think better of it. You were pretty confident the rules of the race didn’t prohibit the transfer of points between players, so if you could keep your position in the lead until the end, you could transfer your points to Gyro and have him win. As for your farm, you only needed a small portion of the prize money that you were hoping wouldn’t make a vast difference in saving Marco. 

Your posture straightened as you turned to Gyro, “Johnny and I have faith in you. No offense, but you’re a stubborn ass, and I’m not sure there's another racer here that’s willing to take all that on. You’ll win, there’s no doubt about it.” He punched you in the arm softly and gave you and Johnny a golden grin, but it had faded as his eyes landed on you.

“What about you? Don’t you need to win the race?” 

“I’ve got a plan for that, don’t worry. I only need a minuscule portion of the race money for home, so the rest of it can be yours.” He wanted to ask you about what you had planned, but then you clapped your hands together and stood up in your saddle. 

“I think I’ve got it!” He and Johnny stared at you, confused as you rode. “I’ll name my stand Type O Negative, after my blood type. If she can identify blood types and diseases, then it seems pretty fitting to name her after that.” 

Johnny placed a hand on his chest and clutched his clothes, “Sweet baby Jesus, I thought you were about to say something like we're under attack.” Gyro slowly turned his head to Johnny as you scratched the side of your head. “Did you just say sweet baby Jesus…?” He turned from Gyro and flushed, tugging his beanie down to cover his face. You thought it was kinda cute that he had little sayings from back home that confused you, and the same went for Gyro; specifically, when he muttered random things in Italian or had phrases that left you and Johnny with question marks above your heads. It was something you loved about them; a tiny detail about their person that made you want to cherish those moments in your memory forever. 

“It’s a southern thing,” Johnny countered and pointed a finger in Gyro’s direction, “Besides, you say shit in Italian all the time that we can’t understand. Who knows what kinda things you’ve been talking about?!” 

Gyro let out a “Nyo Ho!” and started play-fighting with Johnny. Your lips twitched upwards—back to the usual, it seems. Their chaos lasted for about five minutes, calling it a tie before Johnny dug out a knife from his bag with Gyro pulling a map out from his; looks like it was time to get back to being serious. 

You rolled your shoulders as a new plan commenced. 

You all had ridden to the starting location where you should’ve been able to leave the orchard. Johnny’s job would be to mark which turns you took by carving into the trees while Gyro marked them on the map and directed him. As for you, you would be paying close attention to your surroundings to see how it was even possible that you all kept missing the turn you needed to take. 

What none of you saw was a pair of piercing blue eyes following your group from far away, cold and calculating—waiting for you three to connect the dots. Not soon after, they disappeared behind a curtain and into the dusty cabin their owner had resided in. 

(Johnny Joestar x reader x Gyro Zeppeli)

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It’s been a slow 11 days since you‌ initially begun the fourth stage of the race. By now, the bruises that you and Gyro had given each other 2 days ago were starting to fade with the help of some medicine. Gyro had also used the spin on himself and you a few times to make sure your circulation was better, allowing your bruises to heal faster. Overall, the recovery period was shorter than most doctors would’ve predicted. 

You’d all been travelling through the grassy plains while occasionally passing groups of thin, ghastly trees. They honestly looked as if you had dumped a package of uncooked spaghetti on a table and called it good for tree placement in nature. 

You tapped Gyro’s leg and pointed off to the distance, “So, as the supposed expert in pasta, do those trees look like spaghetti?” He looked at the trees, then back at you, and then let out an offended noise that portrayed your apparent injustice to the pasta gods. 

“Those trees need to be way thinner and more uniform to even graze against the glory that is spaghetti. I mean, just look at them!” He started waving his hands around, measuring the dynamics of the trees and deeming them much too insufficient. 

Johnny slapped his hand against his forehead, “It’s a tree, Gyro.” 

“Yes, but when one compares it to authentic Italian cuisine, the logistics become much more intricate.” You snorted at his theatrics, or maybe they weren't. Who knows? Perhaps Gyro would die on the hill that defended the fine culinary arts that went into pasta making back in Naples. 

He then went on to ramble for the next 30 minutes about how there’s a process that goes into making pasta that needs a specific order and technique that allows the pasta dough to fully form. Something about creating a ‘flour volcano’ and plopping egg yolks into the center, then kneading it for 20 minutes on end. From there, he divulged about ‌the different ways you could go about making pasta dough and what happens when you let the dough rise versus if you don’t. 

You looked over at Johnny, who seemed to be dying ‌inside, contemplating whether he liked the current pasta lesson or not. If you had to guess, he was totally enjoying it, but he wouldn’t admit it unless someone forced that oh so horrid truth out of him. He might even drag it to his death. Yes, you could imagine it now: 60 years into the future, where some random person stumbles upon his grave that read, ‘Here lies Johnny Joestar, loved by many, and lover of pasta lectures himself’. You laughed ‌silently and continued to listen to Gyro’s lecture. 

Eventually, the conversation shifted to what you all wanted to eat the next time a proper meal actually presented itself. That still wouldn’t be for a while, weeks perhaps. This stage still had a while to go, an estimated 21 days actually, and it had only been 11. Still, it was nice to let loose and think about the delicious possibilities. 

Damn, you had accidentally made all of you hungry…

“I’d kill for a steak,” Johnny sighed, conjuring up a buttered piece of meat in his mind, cooked to perfection and ready to eat. Gyro nodded his head but tossed an accusatory look your way, “Someone’s given me a craving for pasta, so I’d have to go with that. If I can’t get any at the next tavern we visit, I'm forcing you to make some for me, so I hope you were listening to my super awesome explanations.” 

Your shoulders slumped in acceptance, “Aye aye, captain, but don’t complain if it turns out to be shit.” He patted your back and gave you a golden smile. Then, you tilted your head to the side, thinking about what you wanted. “I think if I had to choose anything to scarf down, it’d probably have to be a slice of cake… We’ve eaten so much scorched food recently I’d do anything for something sweet at this point.”

Johnny groaned and tugged his hair, “Don’t even remind me about it! I blame Gyro for that, by the way—he’s the one who likes his food charred for some reason.” 

“Aggiunge più sapore, solo che non lo apprezzi!” 

You and Johnny looked at each other. “Do you know what he’s saying?” Johnny whispered to you, confused by Gyro’s sudden switch in language. “No idea,” you admitted. 

Johnny turned back to Gyro, “The hell are you saying?” 

Gyro crossed his arms and stuck his chin up, very firm in his opinion, “That you have no taste buds when it concerns the flavor of things that are ‘charred’.” 

“Bullshit!” Johnny shot back, “How can you eat a burnt piece of meat and sit there and call it good?!” Oh god, here they go again… Now it was your turn to watch them have another frivolous argument that had somehow revolved around food. You wondered what would happen if you called them hangry…

It couldn’t have been longer than five minutes before you found yourself in front of a hanging cattle corpse that was mauled and had barely any meat on it. The hanging corpse showed its white, outstanding ribs in full display, or at least the ones that remained. 

“Hey, guys, look.” You motioned to the hanging corpse, bringing Johnny and Gyro out of their conversation and back to the present. “Don’t you guys think it’s a little weird that it’s just hanging there? Wouldn’t the owner want to protect the meat instead of letting animals get to it? Looks like some have already chewed most of the meat up.” 

Some might label you as some sort of extreme animal activist, but the simple truth was that you were a rancher who felt more than the average person when it came to livestock. You weren’t emotional enough to feel bad that they needed to be eaten; they had a purpose after all, but how they got eaten was a separate matter on its own. 

Normally, you weren’t one to criticize how people went about their business, but seeing a cow tied upside down and treated so poorly, even after death, made you feel conflicted. You loved all your cows back home. You couldn’t fathom leaving any of them like this after they got killed to be eaten—strung up like some sort of decoration rather than a being who lived and had feelings. 

Johnny stared at the cow, observing it. Gyro, however, rode right ‌up to it and pulled out a knife. “Gyro, I wouldn’t touch that,” Johnny warned, you and him following Gyro to the cow, “There’s an owner.” Sure enough, branded on the leg of the cow was an ‘HP’ with an arrow that shot through the letters. 

“Just look at it! Most of it’s already gone, so I doubt 600 grams would make a tremendous difference. If the owner doesn’t care to protect it from the coyotes, then they shouldn’t have a problem with a little slice going to us.” Gyro took out a pocketknife and began to carve away at the meat, taking just as much as he said before storing in away in a pouch for food. 

Something was telling you in your gut that his action right there would have a consequence, but not seeing any immediate danger, you tossed that feeling to the side and kept riding forward. As for Johnny, his brow furrowed in worry, not sure how to feel about Gyro’s blatant stealing. Like you, he paid it little mind and kept going; you’ve all done ten times worse at this point, so taking a little meat didn’t seem like a huge violation of the laws of life. 

Unfortunately, you and Johnny needed to trust your gut more often. 

You all made your way to the next bunch of trees and were riding through them calmly. You were even rubbing the side of Valkyrie’s head as Gyro fixed one of her buns, but Johnny had noticed someone up ahead, “Gyro, Astraea, look.” You three placed your attention on the trail and saw a bright pink figure which could only belong to one racer: Hot Pants. “It’s him,” Johnny noted firmly, “and he’s coming this way.” 

Gyro fixed his hat as you settled back on Ever fully, “What the hell does he want? Is anybody with him?” You watched Johnny pull out a spyglass before he answered your questions.

“He’s a lone wolf, and he’s got a chunk of points from the third stage. He’s also American, and his age and real name are unknown. Actually, any information on him doesn’t seem to be public knowledge, but he’s on a good horse.” Johnny kept inspecting Hot Pants from afar, trying to get anything he could on the bright pink man, “Definitely not a hillbilly… He carries himself too well to be one.” 

Gyro shifted himself closer to you and Johnny, “What should we do? Talk to him?” 

“No,” Johnny advised, “just ignore him.” 

Well, that plan went right out the window because as soon as you all got close to Hot Pants, he pulled out three ropes and made a noose for each one. He tossed the nooses over a tree branch and held the base of the rope. 

“Good day to you three,” he leaned back on his horse and spoke formally, “Let’s skip the chit-chat and get straight to the point. I’m going to hang you all from this tree.” 

“Woah, woah, woah,” you countered, waving your hands in front of you, “no offense, but that’s one hell of a sentence. What’d we do first off, and why is it warranting the death penalty of all things?” You stared at Hot Pants with a guarded glare, not really in the mood for having a nice conversation after he just tossed a noose in your face. 

“You ate my cow, didn’t you? It was a cow that I paid for in advance to be grazing on this course. It seems you’re not aware that the consequence for cow theft is to be hanged. Now, I'm not going to say it again…Place the rope around your neck.” He shoved the rope in your guys' direction, but none of you made a move for them. “Why do you try to resist? It’s the law in this place, so there won’t be any trial for this.” 

Suddenly, it all made sense. The damn cow Gyro had stolen from earlier belonged to Hot Pants—the HP symbol was literally his branding. 

You whipped your head to Gyro as he held his hands up in peace, “Ho–Hold on! I don’t know the laws of this country too well, and…” But it was too late. Hot Pants had leaped from his horse and appeared behind Gyro, ready to attack. Gyro tried to get out one of the steel balls, but Hot Pants had sprayed some weird tan substance on his arm that stuck the steel ball to his hand. It looked grotesque and mushy, but then hardened into something akin to flesh. 

It didn’t end there; Hot Pants went for his eyes next, spraying his eyes and covering them in the goo. 

Well, there goes our streak for not running into a stand user, you thought. 

Johnny had tried to be quick and do something by using tusk, but Hot Pants grabbed Gyro’s wrist and sprayed more of the goop onto Johnny. Whatever he did to Gyro left his wrist shriveled and atrophied. 

“The fuck is happening to me!” Gyro was trying to rip himself away from Hot Pants, but without his vision, he was just flailing around. Johnny was in a similar spot with his eyes now covered, too. “It’s flesh from my arm! He’s taking the flesh from my arm and spraying it! What the hell?!” Apparently, Hot Pants didn’t take too kindly to Gyro outing his stand ability and sprayed the rest of his face, covering his mouth and nose, rendering him unable to breathe. 

You were about to step in, but Gyro had gotten out one of his steel balls and slammed it against Hot Pant’s spine. Whatever spot he had hit, it caused Hot Pants to violently reel back in pain. “One of you guys shoot him! I’ve got both his arms, but I can only keep him down for so long!” You could barely understand him with how muffled he was, but you didn’t need to be told any further. 

You summoned your stand as Hot Pants was reaching for the gold device he sprayed flesh with and slammed a fist into his gut. He choked out some spit and began to bleed from his stomach, grasping at his clothes. 

Hot Pants staggered back a few paces as you kicked his sprayer away from him. 

“Listen, I’m not against hitting you again, so don’t make me repeat myself.” You hopped off of Ever and looked Hot Pants dead in the eyes, “There was a bullet wound on the cow and it was already dead. Whoever killed your cow that was supposed to be grazing, it wasn’t us. We don't carry guns because we don't need them.” You brought your stand forward and nodded your head towards her. “The wound on the cow was from a large caliber gun. Check it if you don't believe me, but if you don't allow them to breathe within the next few seconds, I’ll kill you.” 

Hot Pants stared at you before removing his stand ability. Behind you, you could hear Johnny and Gyro gasping for air and coughing as they sat on the ground. After, you called off your stand and stopped the bleeding that had been slowly dripping from Hot Pant’s midsection. You decided the situation was safe now and kicked his gold sprayer back to him. 

He looked down and noticed his blood clotting—his flesh mending back together as if your stand had never attacked him. He sighed in relief, picked up his stand, and spun it like a revolver before slotting it back against his side. “True,” he concluded, “you three are an odd pairing, but besides that, you did eat my cow. So I’m not going to apologize for causing you trouble.” 

Gyro was patting his face to make sure everything was off ‌him while he grumbled about the fact that the coyotes ate most of the cow anyway. Hot Pants, back on his horse, started riding off into the distance. “Whoever shot my cow is going to hang.” 

Jeez… Talk about retribution…

Even your stand, who had appeared again, shook her head. Looks like she felt bad for the poor bastard who had to be on the receiving end of that fury. She went over to Johnny and offered him a hand, which he accepted, getting back on his horse. 

“Wait!” Johnny shouted as Hot Pants started to disappear into the treeline, “Where did you get your stand ability?!” He stilled as he heard Johnny question him, waiting for a little more info before he went to say anything. “Was it in the Arizona desert?” Johnny prodded, “During the second stage? In the Devil’s Palm?” 

Wherever Hot Pants got his stand from, it had to have been the Palm, but the question was where. The more you began to encounter stand users, the more you started to question where they had encountered the Devil’s Palm. It's true that the Arizona Desert is the most likely probability, but from what you knew about the Palm, it could travel anywhere. If Hot Pants had encountered the Devil’s Palm outside of the Arizona desert, there was a good chance he was another terrorist who was acting neutral for now.  

“Not that I’m interested,” Hot Pants ignored Johnny’s questioning, “but are there others like that? With abilities?”

You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt while Gyro remained silent. He was just watching from behind as Johnny conversed with Hot Pants. “Well, we don't know… Not a clue, actually.” Hot Pants took that as his sign to leave, giving you all one last glare before he galloped off. You all were useless to him if you didn’t know anything.

Gyro dusted his pants off and gripped his saddle, hoisting himself up onto Valkyrie. “I would have shot him. He could’ve been trying to trick us to get close or get us to lower our guard. What if he was a liar?” 

Johnny moved Slow Dancer over to you and rested his head on your shoulder. You were a little surprised by his sudden display of affection, but you had zero qualms with it; you were actually rather content. 

Johnny closed his eyes for a second, melting into you, “We could have been toast, but it didn’t seem like Hot Pants knows anything about the corpse. He doesn’t even seem to be an enemy… The guy was more concerned for his cow rather than the fact that he got punched by Astraea’s stand, so I don’t think he’s a terrorist sent by the government.”

Gyro watched as you wrapped an arm around‌ Johnny’s waist, simply letting him use you as a pillow while you got out your water flask. You even gave Tusk a rub on the top of his head as he popped out to say hi to you for a second before settling back into Johnny’s arm. The whole scene had Gyro turning green with envy, wanting to be in Johnny’s position. 

He could feel the jealousy creeping up his spine like a snake crawling its way up a tree. At first, it was quiet and unsuspecting, but the more he stared, the more he began to silently curse his inability to act on his own feelings. He was a person who thought before he acted, weighing every outcome to choose the most beneficial one that would help him—that was simply how he had to do things back home. 

Analyze a patient, weigh every symptom to rule out the cause, and then finally act once all the logical conclusions had been made. The same went for killing someone. Look at their physical body, memorize the abnormalities, and then strike where it mattered. As a side effect of this process, Gyro found himself afraid to act when it came to you; he’d weigh the consequences of putting an arm around you and then decide against it because the outcomes seemed too daunting. 

There were too many risks that were holding Gyro back, but now he was going to have to rethink that mentality if he wanted a chance. On his horse, he could see you slipping away as you looked at Johnny, enamored with his friend. Your eyes were even glinting with adoration, and the way you held Johnny suggested that if Gyro didn’t do something, then he was gonna lose you to Johnny. 

Wait…, he thought. Did Johnny like you? Was that why he had been so clingy with you recently? 

Johnny was the complete opposite of him in decision making. Johnny, because of his jockey nature, had to make decisions quickly with not a lot of room to consider the effect. In a race, there were only seconds to change and adapt to the course of events that would keep someone going. Johnny was an ‘act now, think later’ kinda guy, and it was obvious in the way he advanced on you without really thinking of what would happen. 

Johnny just did things and went with it because that was how his life flowed. The same thing happened on San Diego beach—Johnny had no intentions to join the race until the last second, where he saw the spin, and just chucked himself in there without thinking what would happen. He saw something he wanted and went for it. 

Now, Gyro saw Johnny wanting you and was inadvertently going for it. It didn’t seem like Johnny was even aware of what he was doing; it just looked like Johnny wanted to be close to you so he did just that. He wasn’t trying to make a flirtatious move on you at all. Johnny just liked you and let his heart lead, not caring for the consequences like Gyro would. 

Perhaps some of it was from Johnny being paralyzed. If he were in Johnny’s place, he would also probably be acting like a moth to a flame for any sort of comfort he could get. Coincidentally, you were a safe space for both of them; you were reliable and caring, stubborn in some places, yes, but you were also down to earth and had taught them both lessons they would never forget. You’d held Johnny so sweetly when he had ridden your horse that he couldn’t even blame Johnny for having feelings for you if he did. 

He was the same way after all: he liked you, but he’d be damned if he’d give you up that easily to Johnny. 

He hadn’t even realized it, but you and Johnny had been staring at him for about 5 minutes now. “Is there something on my face? Why are you guys looking at me like that?” Johnny just analyzed his face more, “You look like you're constipated…” 

“...” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…” He cringed internally at his own deflection. Great job, Zeppeli, now you look like a dumbass, he scolded himself. It would appear he hadn’t been controlling his outward expression of being jealous of Johnny. Smooth. 

“He totally needs to take a shit,” you whispered to Johnny as your cheek rested on his beanie, some hair poking you that came out of the little holes in the hat. 

“I do not need to take a dump!!” 

Johnny covered his mouth with his hand, trying not to laugh. “I think he heard you…” 

“Buncha assholes,” he grumbled but came over to you guys, anyway. “One thing’s for sure though with that Hot Pants guy: I hate his guts. That stupid pink getup makes me wanna rub his clothes in the dirt. It’s like Mountain Tim all over again, but there’s another thing…. when I was checking his spine with the spin scan, the word Turbo came up on it. We already established that in Latin, turbo means cyclone, but there's no such word as turbo anywhere on our route or the map.”

“There’s no constellation, rock, or mountain with that name. I was having trouble before trying to associate it with something, and I couldn’t figure out why it was Turbo in the first place—but then it occurred to me that maybe the meaning of the word Turbo isn’t the clue. Maybe it’s showing us a location through these characters.” 

You and Johnny sat upright, his head coming off your shoulder as Gyro used the corpse eye to beam a light down onto a map he had brought out. When you and Johnny came around to his sides, you could see that the word Turbo had tiny little circles inside the letters with some occasional lines that varied in size. It was definitely combinations of o’s and –’s. 

Gyro pointed to the T, “The designs inside the letters aren’t decorations, they’re numbers. It’s a representation of the binary system that transforms the circles and lines into ones and zeros. If we fix this to the decimal system, the one would correspond to one and two to ten, right? Three equals eleven, four equals one hundred, five equals one hundred and one, and six equals one hundred and ten.” 

He started frantically searching for a pencil, digging around in his pockets, but he couldn’t find one. You reached into your bag and produced one that you had with you, sliding it into his palm as he gave you a thanks. “Alright, let’s calculate”. He started writing out the lines and circles horizontally that made up the numbers and ended up with 39, 6, 24, 94, 6. The more Gyro had started to piece things together, the more you and Johnny started to catch up. 

Those weren't just any numbers… They were coordinates.  

Gyro tossed you the map while Johnny got his own out to start finding the next corpse part. “One of you look it up while I read it off. The T at the beginning means horizontal line in Latin, so it should be North 39* 6’ 24’’ !!” You traced your fingers on the tan paper, eyes lazer focused on the map as Gyro spewed out directions. “Next one is for the B! West 94* 40’ 6’’. Where do those two numbers meet?!” 

Gyro had come up behind you and shoved himself into your space, trying to look at the map and find out where the next location would be. You both followed your finger as you traced it up and landed on Kansas City. 

Johnny had found it on his map too, astounded by the location. “It’s the finish line of the fourth stage! Or at least really close to it!” Johnny held the map tightly and stared at it like it held the answers to the universe, which it may have very well had. Gyro removed himself from your space and gave you a squeeze on the shoulder, “Looks like it matches ‌the route of the race. We're gonna have to beat everyone to the finish line if we want that corpse part.” 

You had felt a little better with Gyro’s reassuring touch, but the dread that began to settle into your stomach was making it hard to appreciate it. You looked at Gyro and Johnny as they caught your unsettled tone, “How is it even possible for a saint to know about longitudes and latitudes…? None of this makes sense, but then again, neither has anything so far.” 

Gyro turned to you and pointed to the coordinates, “Numbers have a constant quality, so it could be something like a prophecy rather than logic.” You guessed that made sense; it was a better conclusion than going down a rabbit hole of how someone could have that kind of power. 

Things started to calm down, but right as they did, Johnny shot up in his saddle and started sweating. “Dio! We forgot about Dio! He has the other eye—do you think he realized where the other part is?!” 

You swore under your breath, “Not unless he's an idiot, but we all know he’s far from that. We should probably anticipate that he’s come to the same conclusion as us. We at least don’t have to worry about the terrorists being there since they don't have one eye, but either way, our goal is the same: to finish in first place.”

The determination had suddenly spiked all around you guys, and it was primarily because of one person. When you looked over at the source, you saw Johnny staring straight ahead at the road, his eyes barely holding any light. All he was focused on was the corpse. “Kansas City it is then.” 

You three clicked your horses forward, their hooves imprinting the ground and kicking up some dirt behind them. Soon, it was Johnny leading you all through the forest, his horse going a little faster than you and Gyro’s. You gulped. 

This next part of your journey better have some promising grub at the end of it. 

.+* ~ *+.

You would think it wouldn’t be that hard to get out of one forest, right? 

Nope.

You all had been riding for what felt like hours, but in reality had been around 20 minutes. No matter where you looked, you continued to see the same trees and shrubs that had been initially here when you arrived. It felt off that they didn’t look any different, despite the regular uniformity that nature seemed to have. You’d even managed to pass up this rickety old house that had been off to the side of the trail that was one blow away from coming down. The fence’s posts had blown through, dangling off the side, hopeless, making the porch barely recognizable as such. 

You looked over at Gyro, who was scratching his ear, and then turned to Johnny, who was also staring at the house like it owed him something. “Haven’t we passed this place before?” Johnny pointed to the house as you rode up to its mailbox. You inspected the inside of it, but there were no contents that implied the house belonged to someone. Not even a house number or name.

On your side, Gyro was now picking at his nails and didn’t seem interested in the conversation at all. He was probably just tired from riding since this morning and wanted a break soon. “There’s a bunch of houses around here, Johnny. All built the same way, so I doubt there’s anything special about this one.” You were inclined to believe him, but Johnny had suddenly galloped away, forcing you and Gyro to catch up to him. What you saw made you shiver a bit. 

In front of you was the carcass of the cow Hot Pants had paid for; the same carcass that you were supposed to have passed 20 minutes ago. 

“It’s the meat!” Johnny gritted his teeth and had Slow Dancer take a few steps away from the cow, “We’re back at the cow again! This is bad!! Shit, do you guys know how much time we’re losing?!” That sentence had you and Gyro fumbling and pulling out your maps again. 

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait…” Gyro snapped open the paper map and started running his eyes over it while you almost shoved yourself onto his horse with how close you had gotten to him to see it. Funny how the roles were reversed now. 

There was absolutely no way you could’ve gone back here. That would mean that you all had been going in a loop this entire time, possibly losing insane amounts of headway that you needed to reach the corpse part. 

You and Gyro gripped the paper, frantically searching its contents to confirm that you had been taking the intended path, and not one that would bring you back here. You pushed your hands into your face and took a deep breath before you spoke up, “Okay, let’s just all calm down for a second to think where we went wrong. Hot Pants went to the right when he left, and we followed, but now we seem to be going the opposite direction. All we need to do is swap the way we went initially.”

Gyro growled and tucked away his map, “That guy is a plague, I can’t believe this! Is this what I get for eating just 600 grams of meat? I swear that guy is stealing all of my luck!” If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve sworn there was steam coming out the side of Gyro’s head. You could understand why he was angry, so you rubbed his back to try to comfort him—just trying to be there for him. He glanced at you and gave you a pleased look, but it didn’t last long when Johnny spoke up again. 

“We at least know the location of the next corpse part thanks to him though.” 

“Johnny, are you on his side or something? That was his scheme! He went on the right to trick us on purpose, with the correct direction being that way!” Gyro gnawed his lip in frustration and sent Valkyrie into a trot. “We’re going back—straight through this road by the orchard!” 

You and Johnny followed him as he held the map in his hands, looking at it while he rode to make sure there was no way you all took a wrong turn. The dirt kicked up underneath you, with you bouncing on Ever as he put some pep in his step. Everything seemed to be going normal, one left at the end of a road, with another left, and finally a right. 

Still nope.

The carcass greeted you all again; haunting you with its meatiness. Bones still strung out with that same hole in it that was beginning to look a lot more threatening, if that was possible for a carcass that had probably been dug in at least several times now. 

“What the hell…” you murmured, squinting your eyes at its hanging presence. “It’s the same cow again, but how did we get here…? Gyro, I don't think you're reading the map wrong at all, but can I see it? Something’s off here.” He quietly accepted your call of judgement and handed the map to you. On it, he had marked where you all took the turns, and all of it was correct; each right and left correlated with the ways you went on the trail. 

It was maddening. Nothing was adding up, not the carcass, not the turns, and not Hot Pants. You were about to report your unfortunate conclusion, but Johnny had come over and started frantically waving his hands in the air, dragging them from the map to point across the trail. “Maybe we didn’t go back on the same road! Maybe there are smaller paths in the orchard, and we happened to go through those without realizing we were coming to where we began?!” 

“That’s impossible! We only turned at three corners!” Gyro looked to the ground and all of your eyes followed his, “Even our hoof marks are still left. Let’s follow these tracks back and find the right way.”  You all wanted no time and started retracing your steps. All of your horses went darting forward under your commands, but even after such an immediate response, you were all still left in a dizzy. 

The hoof marks led nowhere, and if anything, went straight back to the damn ghost meat. You had now lost a total of 40 minutes in one day, and that means that Dio now had a massive lead over you guys for tracking down the corps part. You were all riding like chickens without a head, picking a direction and hoping it would yield a different outcome this time. 

Somehow, you had all managed to find that old house again. It was sitting there, waiting with an eeriness that let you know that going near it wouldn’t be a good idea. 

“What the hell is this?!” Gyro crushed the front of his hat in his hands, refusing to accept the fact that you all had managed to find yourselves in an inescapable forest. 

“Are you three lost too?” That voice was familiar… You all turned your attention ‌a few meters to the right where you saw Hot Pants on his horse. He was standing there with a blank expression, not doing anything atop his grey horse. “How many times has it happened to you all?” 

Gyro jerked Valkyrie back as she neighed at the sudden whiplash, “Stop right there! Don't come any closer to us! This is a warning!” But Hot Pants didn’t care for any of it. He just stood there before getting out a compass that seemed to be pointing its needle in every direction possible. 

“I’ve lost nearly an hour in here, and I'm guessing you three have too. No matter which direction I take, I come back to this spot. I'm guessing it’s because the plums in this orchard grow a lot of iron, which is making my compass not point in the right direction.”

Johnny held out his hand and formed a ‘stop’. “Hot Pants, don’t come any closer. We’re thinking you could be tracking us.” He just stared at Johnny like he was spewing pseudo nonsense at him. 

“What? No? This is the fourth time I’ve come back here. Look at my tracks if you don’t believe me.” You looked over at where his horse was, and underneath there were four identical hoof patterns that ran across the soft dirt. “Why? I’m not sure. I want to know, though.” 

Gyro scowled and butt in before Johnny or you could say anything, his lips down turned, “So what’s that to us? Get lost already! We’re never even going to trust you anyway, got it?” Gyro was about to flip Hot Pants off, but you snatched his hand before he could do it and shook your head no. It wasn’t that you were angry at him, but more so that your instincts were telling you that Hot Pants wasn’t the one to blame for this. 

He put his hand down for about one second and then flipped him off anyway while you weren’t looking. 

Hot Pants rolled his eyes at that. “I’ll be the one to trust you guys then. I know you aren’t bad people, if you were, I would’ve killed you already. How’s that?” 

How gracious, you thought. 

Gyro motioned for you and Johnny to lean in, so you both hunched over, waiting to hear what he wanted to say. “What’s that even supposed to mean? What is he talking about?” You took a quick glance at Hot Pants and threw your thoughts into the open. “I think he’s trying to say that he’s lost too. I don’t think he was trying to lead us astray earlier at all, he was genuinely just going down the path he thought would lead him out of the forest.” You sighed before pitching an idea, “I think we should work together with Hot Pants.”

Johnny agreed with you, “I don’t think he’s an enemy either. We would’ve been trying to kill each other for sure if that was the case, and there’s no way he would waste this much time here for a plan if he came in first last stage. He’d want to be going, that’s for sure.” 

Gyro just slapped you two on the head, causing you to hit him on the head back and for Johnny to pinch his side. He swatted at you two before turning to Johnny, “Tell him to go eat shit, Johnny.” The jockey just deadpanned and gripped his reins tiger.

“Tell him yourself.” 

Gyro deflated and then threw an arm around you, cupping his free hand over his mouth. “Eat shit, asshole! Fall off your horse!” You couldn’t lie, that got a chuckle out of you. Johnny just sat on your left, disappointed by you and Gyro, who might as well have been Dumb and Dumber. 

Hearing that, Hot Pants' jaw tightened a little, “Aren’t we looking for the same path? Let’s just cooperate until we find the main road!” He watched you all huddle again before Gyro took the lead of the conversation.

“So, say that we do trust you… What’s in it for us if we cooperate?” 

Hot Pants reached in for his saddle and pulled out three paper–wrapped blobs and tossed them at you all; one for each of you. “I’ll let you have some quality food if you’re with me. Consider this a payment in advance.” You unwrapped the paper and instantly started salivating. All that earlier wishing for food was fulfilled as you now held a pristine beef sandwich with onions and eggs in your hand. 

Johnny had seemed just as shocked, yet happily surprised as you had. “Guys! Is this what he eats every day?! These things are cooked perfectly with seasonings and other toppings!” You all had stars in your eyes as you stared at the food, already tasting the flavors just from the smell. One of you was definitely gonna start levitating to follow the scent of the sandwich with a pair of wings like a true goner. 

What a load of fatasses you all were. One good meal and suddenly you were all food whores. 

…

Worth it.

“There’s no poison, I promise.” Hot Pants threw a thumb over his shoulder and pointed to the old house. “It looks run down, but earlier I saw someone walk into that house. Let’s ask whoever lives there for directions. We’ll just be stuck if we don’t ask.” 

He saw someone go in? There’s no way someone would be living in that house for any reason; it barely had a functioning structure, let alone a solid door. You shrugged your shoulders and motioned for Johnny and Gyro to follow you as you rode up to Hot Pants. As the house got closer, a fellow participant ‌jumped out on his horse from behind a bush, scaring the life out of you. 

“Shit! Here again! That son of a bitch in that house….” He was spewing out sentences and words that were weaving in and out of your ears, much too fast for you to understand coherently. Suddenly, he pointed his finger at you, “You guys! Are you all lost too?” 

Gyro had ridden up quickly, putting himself between you and the new guy. “Hey, hey, hey,” Gyro intercepted, clearly not pleased to have this guy in your space. 

“That’s Guacho,” Johnny informed you all, “He finished 10th on the third stage!” 

Gaucho, dressed in a white shirt with a yellow scarf and a Mexican hat, finally became a little more understandable. “That son of a bitch again! Always at the curtain by the door… always by the damn curtain. I’ve asked him over and over again how to get out of this orchard, and each time he says, ‘You’ll find your way out after you kill me’.” 

His mustache twitched before as he got fed up, the house reflecting in his brown eyes. “That’s it! I can’t stand this, so I’ll give him what he wants!” He ripped himself off ‌his horse and marched his way up the dirt path to the house. “Get your ass out here, you liar! I’ll shoot you dead, just as you wish! Show yourself, coward!” 

You, Gyro, Johnny, and Hot Pants watched from the edge of the yard as the door of the house creaked open. From it, a young man came out who wore a simple white top and white jeans covered with a golden belt. Even his hair was white, but what caught your eye was the striking blue color of his own and the skull he had trimmed into his beard for his chin. 

His eyes held the color of ‌sparkling waterfalls, but carried a depth that was frightening. You were afraid to hold ‌his attention, and you weren’t even the one on his porch shouting that you were gonna kill him. 

When he spoke, everything in you drew itself to him, captivated. There was definitely something in him that was dark and warned you to go away, but you couldn’t. It felt like curiosity, almost. The more you knew that you shouldn’t interact with that man, the more you wanted to go investigate to satiate yourself. 

You needed to be careful. 

On the porch, he dropped the newspaper he had been holding and lifted his head up, setting his eyes on his new target. “Then, I humbly suggest that we begin.”

“Don’t fuck with me!” Guacho reached for his side and got out his revolver, aiming the heavy weapon at the white man. “If you want to be killed so badly, I’ll do it! This is your last chance! Tell me the real path that’ll get me out of here!” 

The man took a step down the stairs. Dread washed over you. “I’m no liar, but if you want to call me that, I don’t mind. There is only one correct path, and if you want to get out of here, you must kill me. That is the path ‌to be taken. A decision must be made eventually…” 

Gaucho was sweating now, speechless. Below you, Ever was starting to thrash his tail to the side: a clear sign of distress. Beside you, Johnny had started to glisten with nervous sweat, “Guys, is that what I think it is?” 

Gyro placed a hand by his steel ball just in case, “Wait, Johnny! I don’t really understand the situation!” Gyro’s confusion would have to wait since Guacho had started to move again. 

“Your hands! They’re shaking!” Gaucho noted the man’s tremors and let out a tiny smile of victory, like he had won something in knowing his opponent was trembling. 

“Yes.” He said plainly. “You are right. Perhaps it’s because of fear, but it could also be because of excessive strain on the body, causing it to freeze against it’s will. Regardless, the decision must be made.” He pointed to the gun in Guacho’s hands. “That gun you have there is an 1873 colt, so allow me to speak of something important: with this much distance between us, our bullets will most likely never reach each other.” 

“I need you to take five steps in this direction,” he waved Guacho forward, “Although I'm in your range, the distance will cause your bullet to land approximately 10 centimeters to the right, so you will need to come here if you want to kill me. You’re limited otherwise. So, what will it be?” 

Gaucho remained still, evident tension rolling off him. 

“Were you only lying when you said you’d shoot me?” 

Hot Pants backed away on his horse, feeling that the current events were turning into something you all didn’t want to be involved in. “You three… This looks serious.” 

“It’s your decision,” came the white man’s voice again, “but if you choose to quit, you would be the liar, not me.” He combed his fingers through his short white hair, waiting for Guacho to do something. 

“I can’t stand this any longer!” Gaucho, broken by the pressure, dashed forward and shot a bullet straight at the man. It whizzed forward and punctured him in the left shoulder and shattered the lamp behind him. Gaucho didn’t stop there, no. He kept shooting at the man, hitting the house and sending splints everywhere, but the man had simply gotten up, took aim at Guacho, and let out one single shot.

It nailed Guacho right in the throat. Blood spilled from the hole in his neck, seeping into his clothes and painting him in a horrifying red—drenching everything from his neck down in that familiar sanguine liquid. 

“N–No way…” Johnny breathed out, clenching his teeth at what you had all just seen. 

The white man had simply pulled his collar to the side to inspect his shoulder and shrugged it off like it meant nothing to him. “Five steps… The shots are accurate from this distance, but the power is still weak. The resistance of the muscles and chest bone slows the bullet down, and although it has reached the heart, it didn’t destroy it completely.” 

Unexpectedly, Gaucho had still been alive and tried to go for one last shot at the man, but he got pumped full of lead before he could blink. Finally, the gurgling died down, and his body lay motionless in the dirt as his blood pooled around him. 

In front of you, Gyro had begun to lose his composure. The sight of the death had been too far for him, especially when he considered the fact that all Guacho wanted was directions. 

“Hey!” Gyro screamed, “Stop! You! Damn it all!” 

But the man paid Gyro no mind, instead, he coughed into his hand like he was sick and wearily made his way in front of Guacho’s corpse. “I thank you.” That was all he said before huffing his way back into the shattered house, leaving behind Guacho’s body and horse. 

You were stunned. What the ever loving fuck had you just been witness to?! Any appetite you had for those sandwiches vanished as it was ripped straight from your guts and shoved down your throat. You had literally just watched some poor racer try to get directions out of this cursed orchard, only to be met with a death sentence and theatrical bow like the battle for his life had been a performance. 

Was that what would’ve happened to you if you had tried getting directions? Would you need to fight that man for his knowledge? And if he was serious about not getting out unless he died, were you all really stuck here unless you wanted to coat your hands in blood? 

Everyone but Hot Pants was openly disturbed; Gyro covered his eyes with his tipped-down hat to avoid anyone looking at him, Johnny’s lip twitched with apprehension, and your panic kept you silent. Even so, you had to keep going, or at least help one of the others. 

You had Ever go over to Gyro, who was just looking at his hands, crushing the saddle under his grip. You placed a hand over his strained ones, which made him rip his attention to you and allowed you to see what he was thinking through his eyes. What you saw him going through was unbridled fury and disgust—his eyes alight with a recognition of a death that he wasn’t approving of. 

You couldn’t read his mind, but if you had to guess, he was furious that Guacho had died so ‌undeservingly. As an executioner, he must be familiar with clean–cut deaths, and not… whatever that was. 

You dragged him into your arms and buried your face in his hair, arms strung awkwardly around his waist. “I'm here,” you murmured into his neck. He smelled of horse and leather, something you had come to associate with him, but also a hint of musky amber that was unique. If you really focused, you could also pick up hints of something that smelled sterile, like alcohol. 

“...Thank you.” 

You nodded to him and let him hold you for as long as he needed until he felt okay again. At some point, he brought one hand to the back of your head, the other gripping your shoulder, and squished you real hard against him before he gave your hairline a kiss and let you go. 

You blinked at him, wondering if you had a sudden ability for racking up kisses and hugs, ‌but when you had looked at him with owlish eyes, he just gave you soft smile and his signature grin. 

Still, it didn’t take away the sudden events that had just unfolded. Johnny was still freaking out, so you and Gyro went over to him as he was trying to process what he saw. “What the hell is he doing in that house?! He just murdered Guacho like it was nothing!” Gyro placed a hand on Johnny’s shoulder, trying to offer him some comfort like you had done for him. Thankfully, Johnny sighed, appreciating the gesture while collecting himself. 

“Murder?” Hot Pants asked, face devoid of any hints at what he was feeling. “None of that was against the law.” 

Anger flared in you. How detached can one person be?! 

You all faced Hot Pants, huddling together in your makeshift bubble. “You know,” Gyro began, “we don’t really give a shit. If you want to get involved, go ‌right ahead. He’s probably the one that killed your cow.” Gyro clicked his tongue and turned around, motioning for you and Johnny to follow. “Come on, you guys. We can’t stay here forever. Let’s get out of here.” 

With that, Hot Pants watched as you all rode off to find a way out of the forest that didn’t require a mental image scar. To be fair, you had seen some pretty atrocious stuff, but something about that guy made it so intense. So real… 

It scared you. 

Whatever it was, you weren’t about to go step near that house and invite it into your life. You were more than content for now to be wedged between Johnny and Gyro as you pet Ever’s neck. 

What all of you could agree on, however, was that a stand was at work somewhere. You all just needed to figure out where…

(Johnny Joestar x reader x Gyro Zeppeli)

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1 day after the start of the fourth stage 

After finding out that Hot Pants had claimed number one for himself, you three decided to start making progress as fast as you could. The trip had been basking in relative silence, devoid of any conversation that had tried to lighten the mood. After all, it was obvious that it would mainly be Johnny carrying the conversation, given how you refused to speak with Gyro, and that would’ve made one very dull chat. 

Johnny wasn’t nearly as loud as you and Gyro could be, and he felt that if he tried to replace that noise, it would be a shitty imitation of his friends' conversation skills. He liked the background chatter, but he wasn’t about to be a martyr just for some white noise or entertainment. 

The day continued in obdurate silence, with you shutting down every attempt Gyro made to try to converse with you. At first, he tried simply getting your attention by saying your name, but you simply ignored him. You felt no remorse in your actions; in your mind, you were completely justified in your choice to ignore him. When that didn’t work, he tried shifting closer to you on his horse, but you went around him and used Johnny as a physical barrier to prevent him from getting to you. 

Johnny, being the unconsenting barrier that he was, just sat there and grumbled as you and Gyro went back and forth. Getting caught in the middle was making his eye twitch. The only thing going on in his head was a constant Why me. Why me. Why me. Eventually, Gyro ran out of energy and resigned to sulking on top of Valkyrie while you offered him a sip of water from your canteen. He took a swig of water and handed the canteen back to you. 

“Hey! What about me?!” Gyro pointed at himself and looked at you, astonished at only giving Johnny some water. 

“You’re a big boy,” you shot at him, “you can get your own water.” 

“May I remind you that Johnny is also an entirely grown man?” 

You ran your tongue over your teeth, wondering if you should even give him the time of day. “Are you absolutely dying of thirst? Will you turn into a sad, dry raisin if I don’t hand you this canteen?” You held the said object in the air and wiggled it in front of him. 

“Maybe I will, maybe I wont,” he challenged you, trying to see if he could keep up any sort of conversation with you. Anything, even sharp quips, between you two made him feel more at ease than the tense, impressive silence that had been around since the start of the day. 

You let out an audible groan and shook your head. Was he really this desperate to talk to you? You tossed him the canteen and kept riding forward, not wanting to be part of his melodramatic bullshit. “Keep it,” you told him, still facing forward. 

Johnny watched you both, still debating where he should stand in the middle of your guys' feud. He didn’t want to shove himself into the mess; he didn’t want to do that at all. In fact, if he had the option of not being part of the drama, then he’d probably be basking in the crisp air of the outdoors, wondering what to do about this stage of the race. 

As it stands, however, you and Gyro were his team and, more importantly, his friends. He didn’t like seeing you both be at chiefly pitiful odds with one another, and he wanted to do something to stop it. How was the question… He wasn’t the kind of guy to be thrusting himself into the depths of your arguments to be some holier than thou resolver, but he also wasn’t going to watch you guys grow spiteful. 

This whole thing was a mess. Johnny remained silent and trudged forward, following you both as he put the feud on the back burner for now. 

At some point in your travels, you all stopped for a bathroom break. Going on the road for hours forced you to stop a few times a day, and currently, Gyro and Johnny were on watch duty as you did your business. 

Johnny was on Slow Dancer as Gyro was pacing back and forth on the ground. Then, Gyro paused while he tapped the solid ground with his foot, quickly and rhythmically, before slapping Johnny on the leg. 

“You outta yer damn mind?" Johnny flinched, his accent thickening with the sudden assault on his leg. He smoothed out the rumpled fabric of his clothes that Gyro had slapped and looked down at Gyro with a brow raised. “Well?” 

Gyro ignored him and pulled on his golden locks, “How do I even try to fix this when all she’ll do is dance around me?! Every time I even think about trying to do something, she gives me this nasty little look and rides away. Mi sta facendo impazzire!” It had been hours since they had left town, and throughout that entire time, Gyro had made absolutely no progress. It was frustrating enough that he was beginning to spill out slews of words in Italian. 

Johnny scratched behind his ear, “Are you asking me for advice or just using me as a punching bag?” Gyro said a few more things in Italian that Johnny didn’t understand and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Advice,” he reluctantly admitted, “I hate to say it, but I’ve never been in a situation like this… I know what I did wasn’t the best, but I’m not lying when I say I want to fix things. She just won't listen!” 

“Offer her something,” Johnny shrugged, “Show her that your intentions are good. All you’ve been doing is trying to get in proximity with her, and that’s not really doing much for ya. You can try to talk to her as much as you want, but until you get her to understand that you want to fix things, nothing's gonna happen. Right now she probably just thinks you're doing all this because of some sort of obligation for being a dick.”

Gyro needed to understand that actions without intent would lead to a wall. He needed to have the courage to act with intent and properly communicate that he wanted things to change, because courage is what it takes to stand up and speak, but it’s also what it takes to sit down and listen. 

Johnny’s mind reeled at the memories of all the times he had gotten into sharp, vehement fights with his father. Time and time again, he and his father would clash over things like responsibility, having a proper image, …. Nicholas. This situation reminded him of those instances. He wasn’t wrong to get upset about the things he did, but at the same time he wished he hadn’t gotten so violent in the way he dealt with those arguments. 

He wished Gyro would avoid the paths he had taken in his early youth and not be blindly angry. Gyro needed to come from a place in his heart that represented the amends he wanted to make, but also to have the kindness to lower himself to hear you out. He couldn’t just talk his way out of something he had behaved into. 

After all, every conflict that people face in life is rich with positive and negative potential. It can be a source of inspiration, enlightenment, learning, transformation, and growth. However, it can also be a source of rage, fear, shame, entrapment, and resistance. The choice is not up to people’s opponents, but to themselves and their willingness to work through the issue. Currently, Gyro was taking the conflict and seeing it in a way that was making him frustrated, but what he needed to do was see ‌its potential. 

This whole thing could teach Gyro a side of humanity that, more often than not, people don’t come to learn until it is far too late. If Gyro could come from a spot that addressed your feelings and validated them while also setting his on the plate without you tossing them out the window, he’d be one of the few who had actually come to understand the value of not being at the mercy of his emotions but being able to use them. 

There’s a difference between being angry and doing something rash versus being angry and using that anger to come to a solution—it all depends on how someone reacts and what they decide to do with their feelings. Johnny hoped Gyro would come to see that before it got out of hand. He could repeat all of that to him as much as he wanted to, but in the end, it was up to Gyro to act and do something about it. 

As for you, Johnny hoped you could come to that same conclusion. He knew you were justified in how you felt, but if you brewed in your own anger for too long, it would put a dark blindfold over your heart and never allow you to see just how much Gyro had regretted doing what he did. 

That doesn’t go to say you couldn't be angry for a little; anger is an essential part of being human. However, he wanted you to understand that in harboring that anger, the bitterness and resentment would grow, and you could inadvertently give it the reins. Forgiving Gyro wasn’t about ignoring what he did or accepting the fact that he had tried to get rid of you. It was about looking at what he did and growing from it. 

It could take you days, weeks, or however long to forgive him, but in the end, what is important is your relationship with him. Both of you needed to set aside the immediate pain of rejection, let your egos down, and understand why both of you did what you did. Look at the reasons and not the effect. 

Johnny could see you in the distance walking back to him and Gyro. He pursed his lips and gave Gyro the summarization of his thoughts, “Forgiveness isn’t getting her to forget what you did. People in general would rather die than forgive, anyway. It’s that hard. Given the choice between forgiving and dying, most people would order their coffin.” 

He looked Gyro hard in the eyes, complexity shining in his own with the facets of what he was thinking. “Show her that forgiving you isn’t an attempt to get her to absolve the feelings of betrayal or some sort of thing to make you feel less guilty. Show her it’s because you want to grow from this—that what happened doesn’t define your relationship, and how both of you are more than your actions.” 

Gyro bit the inside of his cheek and turned over Johnny’s words. He knew what Johnny was saying was important, but he just couldn’t get over the absolute wall you were putting in between you two. How on earth was he supposed to get past that? How was he supposed to show that he was trying to mend things? Offer you flowers and a smile? Yeah right. 

This shit’s a pain in the ass, he thought. 

He kicked the dirt and paced around a little more. A few seconds later, the bushes started to rustle, and you emerged from them, blowing a leaf out of your hair. “Anyone else need a pit stop?” 

They both shook their heads no, and with that, you were all off again. 

.+* ~ *+. 

4 days after the start of the fourth stage 

The trip had still been steeped in honey-thick tension, but it eased a few times throughout the day, turning into something tolerable rather than suffocating. Currently, you were all riding under the midday sun while trekking forward, since there was still plenty of daylight before you needed to stop for the day. 

Gyro had still kept on trying to speak with you multiple times a day, but your curt denial shut him down each time before he could get a word in. At one point, he began rambling straight away to beat you before you could say anything, but you had just looked at him with a tired expression and used your stand to cover his mouth. 

The red woman had slapped her palm against his mouth under your will and put a finger up to her lips, hinting to him that he should be silent. However, that was two hours ago, and he hadn’t made any moves to converse with you since then. 

You couldn’t afford to be distracted anyhow. If you could, you wouldn’t even have kept traveling with them, but you felt that abandoning Johnny wasn’t something that you would let yourself do. He had done nothing wrong in his defense, so leaving him with Gyro abruptly felt like a separate misgiving on its own. That, and there were countless people who were after your lives now because of the corpse parts. 

Separating now when you were this deep in was a death sentence that didn’t have any sort of appetizing factor to it, so you couldn’t be picky when it came to avoiding that same sentence. After that subtle thought, you closed your eyes and let the gentle sway of the horses lure you into the recesses of your mind. You began to wonder how your mom was doing—if she had been eating okay or if the farm had begun to depreciate any more from the time you had left. 

You imagined her taking up the duties you and your dad had left her. How she was probably doing her best‌ to take care of the cattle under the warm sun and keep Venus fed, nevermind herself. Thinking about how she was doing made your mind wander back to the fields. Zoned out, you fantasized about the achingly beautiful sunsets that would bless the sky when you laid in the fields of your farm, simply wondering what tomorrow would hold, but those moments were back in a time that was ripped from your hands. 

You questioned if your ma had missed those days as much as you had. You didn’t need to be with her to know her answer would’ve been a resounding ‘yes’. You were positive in your gut that if she had the option to run from the present and future, that she would delve into the depths of an ocean that was a past long left behind. She would sit on the porch, swaying back and forth in her rocking chair, knitting whatever she desired with that ugly yarn only you and your pa would wear. 

Your heart clenched at the thought of that yarn because it was one of the few things you could bring with you that was from your ma. Somewhere in your bag, there was an unfinished scarf that was made of mismatched colors consisting of blues, pinks, oranges, you name it. It was a scratchy thing that had a flurry of colors in it, with one end that hadn't been able to receive the constructive care your mom would’ve given it. 

The sad part was that it had been so close to being done, too. It almost reminded you of how life could be sometimes; going so smoothly and doing well until you get to a stretch that decides how your story goes before you even realize what's going on. The scarf had almost made it in whole—4 feet long and warm, but not quite done. 

Before you left, your ma had given it to you with the promise of finishing it when you came home with it. You guess you could say it was your promise to her and to yourself: to finish the race in first and come home alive. You just hoped you could hold up your end of the deal. 

You were just about to find the scarf to see how it was doing, but a low swear made itself present in your ears. You faced to your left and saw Johnny, who was fiddling with the stirrups around his ankles, grimacing. 

“Your stirrups alright?” You rode over to him and started to inspect his ankles, trying to see what the issue was, but didn’t find anything. 

“Funny enough, they’re too alright,” he motioned to his ankle and untucked his pant leg from under his boot. 

Huh, so it’s not one very long and connected boot-pant monstrosity…swear it was though…

When he untucked the seamless pants from his boots, you could see that where the stirrups had just been was a very red and purplish ring around his ankle. The same discoloration continued down and through his foot, probably as a result of the stirrups. 

Johnny started vigorously rubbing his foot, trying to get back some sort of circulation to his feet, “Looks like I tightened the damn things way too much by accident.” 

Gyro, noticing the commotion, hopped off Valkyrie and strode over to Johnny, getting one of the steel balls out. Unbeknownst to you and Johnny, he had a background in medicine because being an executioner demanded it, and so did his father’s clinic. Being a perfect killer meant knowing where to get the perfect kill. 

If Gyro wasn’t able to recognize the special vital points that were unique to each person, then that was a failure to his family and to his country. At that, his mind flickered to the woman who bit off his fellow guard’s fingers, before shaking it off. He wasn’t in the prison courtyard, not now. 

Usually, he would be using his knowledge to decapitate someone, but now, in the company of you and Johnny, he could finally use it for something good. Not to say his job as a doctor back in Naples was a bad thing, but it was more of a dull task. He wanted to help people, yes, but doing it out of force rather than his own free will left him feeling more like a robot than someone who helped ease people's pain. 

He rolled his shoulders back before placing the steel ball on Johnny’s great saphenous vein that went through his ankle. Then, he applied the spin onto the ball, making it emit that faint humming sound you had all begun to get accustomed to now. In a matter of seconds, Johnny’s foot had begun to return to its normal color, going back to the peachy hue you had started to associate Johnny with. 

Atop Evernight, you watched Johnny give Gyro a thankful, yet humble smile. “You didn’t need to do all that,” Johnny drawled out, running his hands over his now well-circulated limb. 

“Nonsense! If the great Gryo Zeppeli can lend a hand, then it will be done,” Gyro insisted, golden teeth gleaming with the sunny smile he was giving Johnny. 

As much as you wanted to be mad at Gyro, seeing him go out of his way to help Johnny lessened the indignation you had for him. Indeed, you were having doubts about truly being mad at him, especially when he did acts like this—the ones that made you believe in the spark of people being good simply because they can. He owed Johnny nothing, and yet, simply because they were friends, he went out of his way to help him. 

More and more you had started becoming conflicted with where Gyro actually stood in where you felt about him. Yes, you were mad; you were so unbearably infuriated with his existence, but you were also hopeless. Every time he tried to talk to you, a pang of guilt wiggled its way into your chest after seeing his facial features contort into regret at your refusal. A piece of you still wanted to walk over to him and bask in his company, or more truthfully put, you wanted to bask in him. 

You craved to uncover the truth of who he was. You wanted to learn all the things that made him who he is, to learn more than what the world would ever see, and to give him just as much back. You wanted him to know that you liked lazing in the sun, uncaring about how the ground would poke into your back. You wanted him to know that your peace is where endless grass fields lay. You just wanted him to know.

More than that, you also wanted Johnny to be part of that bareness. To have them know you inside and out, and for you to be able to do the same for them. However, that dream seemed untouchable for now, and that reality hurt more than you thought it would. You felt an endless void inside, a feeling that it would never be filled, and no matter how hard you tried, building that kind of trust with them seemed impossible. 

As far as you knew, you didn’t even know if you’d be able to trust yourself to do that either. Lowering your walls completely to let anyone that close seemed like a guaranteed way to get gutted like a fish, and all of that is completely ignoring the fact you still didn’t know if you could forgive Gyro.

You would ruminate on it more, but Ever had decided that he had other matters to attend to that jostled you back into reality. Ever strutted over to Johnny and kept shoving his velvety nose against Johnny’s foot, as if he had sensed there was something wrong with it. At first, you just thought it was him checking on Johnny and seeing if he was okay, doing his smart horse investigations. 

However, each time you tried to kick Ever forward, he just went back to Johnny and kept nudging him over and over again. It got so bad that eventually, Ever was quite literally biting the side of Johnny’s pant leg, trying to drag him onto your saddle. 

You palmed your face and didn’t even try to get Ever to stop because you knew exactly what he wanted. Back during your training at the farm, you had taught Evernight to be as stable as he could, even having him learn to place his hooves in a certain way to maintain that stability. The whole point of that had been for you to be able to stand briefly on his back to shoot your bow, but now, it seems like Ever wanted to use his training to act as Johnny’s personalized comfort horse. 

If Johnny rode Evernight, and with how well balanced he was, Johnny wouldn’t need to have ‌stirrups around his ankles to keep him on the back of Evernight.

You are much too smart for your own good, Ever. 

On Ever’s third tug, you pulled him back from a very baffled Johnny and spoke up, “Alright, alright, I’ll swap! You’re lucky I love you and respect your equine opinions!” You raised you hands in surrender after relenting to Ever. Johnny and Gyro just squinted at you, confused about what you were saying. 

“What do you mean ‘swap’?” Johnny put his hands up and did a little air quotation gesture. 

“Let me on Slow Dancer, and you ride Ever.” You gave Ever a pat on the neck as he let out a conformational whinny. He looked at you quizzically, motioning for you to elaborate. He wasn't against riding Evernight because it would allow him to glimpse your life, but the sudden suggestion confused him.

 You elaborated after seeing his confusion, “It’s to give your legs a break from being held in the same position for hours on end. Especially after cutting off the circulation to your feet for who knows how long.” 

“You want me to ride Evernight without putting my legs up? The one thing that keeps me on the horse?” He eyes flashed with a glint of mischief, struggling to imagine himself riding a horse normally after all this time, but entertained by the idea of it anyway simply because it was you who was offering it. Had it been anyone else, he would’ve probably just flipped them off and scowled. 

“Try it and see what happens,” you challenged, hopping off Evernight and thudding onto the ground. Gyro, who was leaning against Valkyrie, drinking from the canteen he still hadn’t given back to you, was watching this whole thing go down with an amused grin. 

Johnny gave into your requested and gracefully spun himself off of Slow Dancer and onto the ground. Your horse, ever the gentleman, walked over to Johnny and lowered his neck for Johnny to spin onto it. You had to admit, it was hypnotizing watching Johnny manipulate the spin into however he needed it—the golden swirls and bright energy carried a slightly different air that made it distinct from Gyro’s. 

Where Gyro’s spin was unyielding and firm, Johnny’s was willowy and light, like a reed flowing in the wind. It bent to Johnny’s will and danced under his command, flipping him right on top of Ever’s back before he widened his eyes as Ever immediately began moving. Normally, he would’ve just fallen off the horse as it moved since he had no point of stability. Even Slow Dancer, as used to the spin as he was, wasn’t able to fully keep Johnny on his back without the ankle wraps.

During the first stage of the race, he had barely managed to stay on his horse for as long as he did, resulting in his creating the stirrup around the foot method.

But with Ever, he felt like he was riding on air, moving with the horse instead of against it in an attempt to keep his balance. Even with his paraplegia, he could tell just how comfortable his body had just became; he couldn’t feel it, but his legs and lower spine were definitely experiencing bliss right now. Heck, what he could feel from his upper spine felt like butter! 

Essentially, what was happening was that Evernight was creating a balance for him. 

Was this how ‌you had been riding this entire time?! You might as well have been riding on a cloud! Johnny watched his legs be parallel with a horse’s side for the first time in years, and suddenly, with that realization, he felt a wave of emotions crash into him. 

It reminded him of how things used to be. How once upon a time he had the ability to ride a horse just like this, perched upon its back with the gracefulness of a cat, working with the horse to race and not against it. 

He felt the silky substantiality of an accomplishment he didn’t think he would ever be able to do again, and with that, a lone tear slid down his face. 

He was quick to wipe it away, but more just kept spilling down his face with how many memories were running rampant through his system. From the corner of his eye, he could see you approaching him on Slow Dancer with Gyro in tow. He tried to hide his face away, but the occasional sniffle he let out was doing numbers on his attempted non-perception. 

“Johnny,” you called, placing a tentative, gentle hand on his shoulder, “I'm proud of you.” 

Hearing those four words sent a rain of tears down his face. 

He had been vying to hear those words ever since he was a boy, and now, hearing them from you had reopened a wound in his heart. Instead of making it worse though, you had healed a chunk of it that he was sure was permanently damaged from his father. Back then, he had tried every which way to get his father to say he was proud of him, but no matter what he did, it was never good enough. 

He firmly believed that he would never be as good as Nicholas—that he would never measure up to be as great and achieve the things Nick had. Years of his father’s neglect had resulted in self depreciation that manifested in late nights staring at the ceiling, sipping away at a glass of whiskey that he wasn’t drinking for the flavor. Every single thing he had tried to make himself into was deemed a failure. 

And now? 

Now, he was staring at you with glassy eyes and wet lashes, feeling something he had tried to earn for so long, and he really hadn’t even earned it—the horse was doing the work for fucks sake. You had just looked at him, decided that you were proud of him for some reason, and handed him that simple joy on a fragile platter that he was now cradling to himself. 

He was sure you were a piece of heaven on earth when you had lifted your hand from his shoulder and wiped away his tears. He didn’t know what to even do to try to stop the waterworks as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, dragging him into the same embrace you had back in the village. 

The angle of the hug was a little awkward considering you were on horses, but he crushed you against him as hard as he could, being greedy in how he held you. “Y’know,” you started, cradling his face ‌between your shoulder and neck, “Evernight doesn’t just ‘choose’ people. He wanted you to ride him to help with your ankle, but I also believe it’s because he knows something about you. Whatever it is, if Ever could sense it in you, then I’m proud. Proud that you’re riding him right now, and proud that you have goodness in you.” 

His tears slid down your neck, making it glisten as he softly hiccuped against you. He jolted when he felt a third hand give him firm pats on his back before moving to ruffle his beanie. He briefly lifted his head from you to turn and look behind him, seeing Gyro give him an understanding tilt of the head. 

Gyro removed his hand from Johnny, but as his hand left, he let out a comment. “If that saying about turning into the people you surround yourself with is true, then I’m also proud of you, Johnny. If I get that skill and determination of yours, I think I’ll be set for life! Nyo ho!” 

“Yer bluffin’”, Johnny quipped, letting out a chuckle, eyes still a little red. Gyro made an X with his arms, “I swear on the pope.” Johnny snorted at that and fell back against you, “I don’t think I’d mind picking up a habit or two from you as well, both of you, actually.” 

After that last sentence, you all fell into a relative silence—one that was easy and comforting. It was just you all on the road now, heading off to wherever. 

Johnny, not wanting to keep you at an odd angle, went to unlatch himself from you. However, a sudden urge came over him, so while he made sure Gyro wasn’t looking, he ever so gingerly placed his lips against your throat. The contact was barely there, fleeting. He might as well have not even touched you with how fast he had done it. 

He couldn’t help it. Ever since you had joined their team, bit by bit, you had eased your way into his heart, wishing you were in his future more often than not. He was nervous to do anything about it, but with how unpredictable this journey was becoming, he wanted to at least take a chance should there come a day he wouldn’t be able to anymore. 

He preferred not to contemplate that grizzly end; instead, he wanted to think about brighter days, the kind that would be engulfed in laughter and good company that was genial. He wanted to show you all the best parts of Kentucky—the open landscape that was occasionally interrupted by birds that dipped into the horizon, or the low buzz of people during the night that filled the atmosphere with a warmth that made him feel a little less lonely. 

Despite finally making the push to do something, he worried about you ever reciprocating, and if you could ever be with him in that regard. He knew that he wasn’t easy to be around all the time, that he could snap sharply, with no warning, and that you might not even be able to get past his paraplegia. Johnny, in a sad nutshell, believed that you deserved better, and that there was a possibility that everything people had ever said about him was true. 

Regardless, he was certain of one thing: his feelings for you were real. They had blossomed into something scary and concrete, making him wish for things he’d never had the chance to before, or the desire to. Sure, girls had thrown themselves at him when he was famous, but with you, he wanted the stability of you in his life. He wanted to wake up and know you would be there with him, ready to face whatever life decided to throw at you. 

He dreamed of soft caresses under silky sheets and hushed whispers that only you two would hear—playing with his hair or tracing his back while he snuggled into you. He could physically see it, and he wanted it so badly. To lounge on the couch while he read a book to you, cradling you to his chest, or maybe him ‌resting on your stomach if you were feeling nice. After you finished reading, you would both sample the food you prepared, explaining that your mother had taught you the dish, and then go to share a plate. 

You’d both be eating for the first few minutes before one of you got playful and flung a bit of sauce at the other, starting a mini food fight in the kitchen. He’d grab your wrist as you went to swipe some more sauce on his nose, tugging you down into his lap, kissing off the food he had gotten on your cheeks. He pictured you relaxing into his grasp and softly weaving your hands in his hair to tug him to your face, then lovingly choosing to slot your lips against his.

Scenarios ran through his mind, each one tugging him further into the flame that was you, but he didn’t necessarily mind. If you burned him, he’d say thank you and go straight back into the fire. For now, though, they would just have to be fantasies. 

As quickly as he was against your neck, he was gone just as fast, back on Evernight while looking to the side with the faintest of blushes that could be blamed on the now dipping sun. 

As for you, you thought you had imagined it—maybe you did. The touch had been so brief that you were questioning if you had been dreaming and making up the whole thing in your head. No, you were sure it was real. You placed your fingertips along your throat and felt your face flush, tracing where he had just been…where he had just kissed you. 

Johnny….. You sweet bastard….. 

Unbeknownst to Johnny, you were going through a similar mess of feelings; ones that you weren’t totally against. Men usually tried to win you like some prize when you were in the city, offering you money and their time like it was a transaction rather than a human relationship. Johnny wasn’t like that at all, though. He was interesting and companionable, going out of his way to do things for you that he didn’t need to. 

Sometimes, he would let you sleep in a tad longer than you should when it was time to leave, trying to make sure you had gotten enough rest while he packed up Ever for you. Furthermore, you cherished the way he wouldn’t alter his personality around you when he offered you these kindnesses. He didn’t try to turn into someone he wasn’t—he’d always be a little rough around the edges but approach you with a certain ease that told you he respected you. 

All of it made you tender towards him and caused you to move closer to him on colder nights than was necessary. Close enough that it could be considered less than appropriate for simple riding partners. In a mental summary, Johnny was true to himself and true to you, and for someone who had hated the fakeness others put on for the sake of connection, it made a noticeable impact on your relationship with him. Yes, you had fallen for Johnny Joestar—the star spangled dressed man who had the cutest stand in the world with the demeanor of someone who has gone through hell. 

You continued to run your hands over your neck while Johnny and Gyro rode ahead of you, bantering once again about pointless things. This time, it happened to be which country had better cuisine, with Gyro rattling off dishes you didn’t think you could pronounce, and Johnny claiming Italian food in itself is a form of culinary propaganda that he wouldn’t fall for. 

You watched them with ‌delicate ease, gesturing widely at each other and flinging insults with laughs in between. You were happy to be here right now, just relaxing and replaying the softness of a kiss that would forever be engrained in your mind with the familiar noise of Johnny and Gyro up ahead. 

You’d have to think about repaying Johnny sometime for that kiss…

.+* ~ *+.

9 days after the start of the fourth stage 

Unfortunately for you, lasting peace was never an option, and no matter how hard you tried to achieve it, it just wasn’t feasible. You three had been making a ‌respectable distance for the last few days that you all decided resting a tad earlier today wouldn’t do any harm. You had gone and gotten your bow, heading out to do some fishing once again as Johnny took care of the horses and Gyro did the fire. It should’ve been the usual: 30minutes for you to get a decent amount of fish while they waited patiently, talking about whatever they decided to for that night. 

Keyword: should’ve. 

Nothing was out of the ordinary when you had gotten to the pond you planned to fish in. There was just stagnant water, the occasional chirp of a few baby birds, and the cool breeze of the plains. By now, you had taken off your shoes and socks, with your pant legs rolled up to your knees, walking into the water slowly to not disturb the fish too much. You needed to catch them if you wanted full bellies tonight, anyway. 

You had your quiver on your back as you took a wary step into the water, shivering as you did so since the temperature had started to drop with the continuation of the evening. You were thankful it had been a lot cooler compared to the desert, but soon you would start facing the opposite issue in a few weeks. Where the sun had made you sweat past what you thought your body could do, the cold would begin to make you chatter, trying to get any warmth for the night. 

You could at least get some respite from the sun while travelling, but the cold didn’t go away. It never did, not unless the months started to change. You would all be stuck in frigid snow wearing an ungodly amount of clothes trying to stop the winter from settling into your bones. That could be a problem in the future. Right now, you have some fish to spear with your arrows and two probably very hungry partners to attend to. 

You stepped further into the pond as the water began to rise, going up towards the hem of your folded pants. The stony floor underneath your bare foot felt slippery—probably due to the moss that had grown there over time—but you paid it no mind and continued your descent into the water. When you had gotten a decent amount in, about hip length, you stilled and waited for the fish to get accustomed to your sudden addition to the pond. 

It was really the same process you did every time, just a little more unbearable due to the chill of the water. You reached behind your back and took an arrow from the quiver, running your hand along it until it reached the end where the feather stuck out. You gripped the end of the arrow and aligned it with the body of the bow, drawing it back until your elbow was behind you and your hand was even with your head. 

Right by your feet was a 12–inch fish that had been idly swimming by, its scales glinting in the water as it moved the pond’s grass by your feet with its slender body. You held your breath and traced its movements with the tip of your arrow, and when it had gotten close enough, you let go of the arrow. It pierced through the air and sank into the water, kicking up some dirt with the force of the shot, but sure enough, when you pulled the arrow out of the water, the fish thrashed around on it. 

You took it to where you kicked your boots off and pulled out a small pocketknife from your pants and shoved it into the fish’s head, ending its suffering quickly. You gave a nonverbal thanks to the fish and honored its life before setting it down next to your pile of clothes. After that, you waded back into the water and repeated your process for about 15 minutes, getting two more fish in that time. 

You still wanted to get some extra to make sure everyone was actually full before calling it in for the evening, but as you were waiting in the water, hair slightly wet now and shirt damp, a recognizable green orb plunged into the water. The damn thing had scared away a fish you were about to catch!! 

This guy…, you thought, I’m gonna strangle him.

It didn’t take the president to figure out who that green ball belonged to. You wiped away some wet hair that clung to your face and turned to your left where Gyro stood at the edge of the water, arms crossed, tapping his forearm. 

“Im busy getting us dinner,” you shouted to him from in the pond, “Is something wrong?” Your animosity was spiking again, but you didn’t want to immediately dismiss him in case something was happening and he or Johnny needed your help. If he was wasting your time though, you were about to get real mean real quick. 

The peace between you two from a few days ago had faded back into its tense nature after he kept trying to strike up conversations with you. Had you not made it clear to him that you weren’t around to be buddy buddy with him? Was every shutdown not enough of a hint that you didn’t want anything to do with him? 

Gyro walked around the bank and went over to your stuff, “Yeah, there is something wrong.” Your heart dropped at that, racking up questions on if there was an enemy stand user attacking Johnny right now, and why he was being so casual about it. Your worries were cut short when he took off his own boots and adjusted his pants, beginning to walk to you in the water. “This,” he gestured between you and him, “is wrong. Everytime I try to say anything or even get near you, you just shut me out. I’ve tried being patient, I have principessa, but you’re starting to piss me off here.” 

“Me?” you scoffed, hearing the absolute ludicrous coming out of his mouth, “If anyone should be upset about anything here, I think its safe to say I’m the one who’s got a better reason.” You started to walk away from him, going further into the water that was now reaching your waist. “Did you forget about the part where you tried to abandon me? Oh, how about this one! What about when you were going to tell me?! Were you just going to string me along and play me a fool?” 

His eyes did something sharp and dangerous, closing in on you before he tossed his hat to the bank. “If you had given me any time to explain myself, you would know that I was going to tell you.” 

“When?” you shot back, watching him come closer to you in the water. 

“I dont know,” he confessed, seething about how ridiculously guarded you were being, “But I was going to tell you. I swear on my life!” You just looked at him and let out a laugh in disbelief, “You’re a big fucking joke, do you know that?” 

“Damn it! Astraea, just listen to me!” he hissed, splashing the surrounding water in his sudden bout of anger. You were being so stubborn, standing there in the water, refusing to let him tell you the truth. 

“I already told you I ain’t listening to nothing you say. You’re a dick, simple as that.” He growled at that and pointed at you, “You are one of the most insufferable people I have ever had the displeasure of trying to do a solid for.” 

You licked your lips and scowled at him, “Oh, boo hoo! The mean lady called you a dick because you were one! And you’re not doing me any solid!!” You took the steel ball that had been spinning gently on the surface of the water and chucked it at him, but he dodged it swiftly and caught it in his hand, staring at it in bewilderment. 

Did you seriously just throw his own steel ball at him? 

“That’s it.” He suddenly surged forward in the water, pushing past the surface tension and wading right ‌over to you with a look that said, ‘It’s over when I catch you’. You began to backpedal as hard as you could, taking a sharp 90–degree turn to try to reach land as fast as you could. You even ditched your bow and quiver to move faster as he let go of the steel ball. 

It quickly became a chase that you were rapidly losing. Thanks to his genetically superior muscle and physique, he caught up to you in no time and grabbed you by the back of your shirt, hauling you deeper into the water with him. “H–Hey!” You were astonished by how quickly he was dragging you into the water, and not wanting to go any further, you ripped yourself from his grasp. 

You heard the back of your shirt rip a little with the abrupt turn, but it wasn’t important, not when you had faced Gyro and slammed your fist into his face. He let out a groan of pain before shaking his head and diving for you, grabbing your hair and giving you a taste of your own medicine. 

The hit that he landed on you knocked the ever loving wind out of your lungs. He rubbed the side of his face and panted, “We done?” You coughed and stood back up, wiping at your skin, “Not even close.” With that, you lunged for him again and slammed you both down into the water. You couldn’t see anything, but if your awareness on the farm taught you anything, then it was being used now. Unfortunately for Gyro, you elbowed him in the side and kicked his shin, but that meant you took a blow to your ribs as punishment. 

You both resurfaced from the water, gasping for air, before you were both down again—it was a mess of punches, tugs, and anything that landed a hit. When you came up the second time, you and Gyro were coughing up the water you’d both inhaled, bruises littering both of your faces with more underneath your clothes. 

Gyro had been rubbing his eyes, which were blurry from the water, before he heard you speak up. “Fine,” you heaved, “Tell me what you want to say, but if this is a load of bullshit, I'm dragging us under the water again.” If he was willing to go this far, enough to physically fight back against you, then there must be a decent reason. He looked at you with the first positive expression you’d seen on his face since the clash had started; it was something between relief and nervousness.

Regardless, the strain was still there, but it had shrunk enough for you both to have a proper conversation. You both stood there in the water until he decided to speak up, something weighted in his voice.

“Do you remember how you said you were in this race for your home? For your mother?” You were confused how that had any relevance, but you nodded anyway. “I'm in the race for a similar reason,” he slowly walked towards you in the water and stopped once he was right in front of you, “There’s a boy back in Naples who will die if I don't win this…” 

Your eyebrows furrowed, displaying the mixed feelings you were having at hearing this: “He’s only nine, and his name is Marco. He’s supposed to be sentenced to death under the crime of treason for being the shoe shiner of a baron who was plotting a revolt. Death by association, if you will.” Gyro’s voice cracked at the end of that sentence. “They–” he choked, skin shivering that wasn’t from the water, “They want me to kill him.” 

You were beginning to understand now; why he wanted to get you out, why he had felt so guilty when you said you were in the race for your family, why he was fighting so hard to explain this to you, everything—but there was still more you wanted to know. 

You looked him in the eyes, speaking as calmly as you could, “Why do you have to kill him…?” He looked at you with a pain in his eyes that seemed like it had been there for ages, years probably, “I’m the kingdom’s royal executioner. It’s my duty.” 

“But he’s innocent, so you don’t want to do it, do you?” 

He shook his head, words failing him at how much he despised the thought of having to have Marco’s blood on his hands, his head in a bucket. 

You finally knew it all, and as a result, you felt horrible. What he had done to you wasn’t okay, but at the same time, you had been in the wrong just as much for not lowering yourself to meet him. You had shut him out at one of the worst times when he had needed you to listen to him most. 

“Gyro…” you whispered, “I’m sorry… God, I’m so sorry…” You started pacing around in the water, shame and regret slamming into you all at once as you pulled your wet hair. You didn’t hear Gyro say anything from behind you, probably scorning you in his mind for being such an ass this last week and a half, but that was as far ‌from the truth as it ‌could get. 

You heard the water slosh behind you as a pair of arms wrapped around your waist. You felt him place his head against yours as he stood there holding you from behind, both of you sopping wet and buried under the revelation of unspoken words that were now brought to light. 

You felt his hair tickle your nape as he went to speak, “No, I’m the one who should be apologizing. I lied to you, and it almost cost you everything. There is no honor that came with my actions, only disgrace for trying to cheat my way into winning the race.” You moved in his hold, making him release his grip on you as you turned around to look him in his eyes. 

“We’re both fools,” you mumbled, moving to wiggle your way into his space again. He gave you a short chuckle and brought you back into his arms, squeezing you and giving you a proper Italian embrace. Why had you ever tried to deny yourself this? With his arms around you, all the memories of what made Gyro himself flooded your mind, making you smile against his shoulder. No wonder you were so conflicted with being mad at him—it was just something you could never force yourself to do forever. 

Gyro had needed you as much as you needed him, and by denying him, you had stripped the possibilities of what could have been. 

“I’ll understand if you don’t see me the same anymore after this, but I’ll be heartbroken. I can’t lie in that regard.” He crumpled your shirt in his hand and brought his face away from its spot on your head to look at you. “Please know that I didn’t think I was being mean-minded, but now I know I was. I don’t want you to force yourself to put your arms around me and say you forgive me—that it’s alright. I want you to be sure that you do.” 

“Gyro…” you breathed out, holding the sides of his neck.

“I'm not done, Tesora,” he ran his thumb across your bruised cheekbone, “I don’t see any light, any humor, or any joke to make out of the suffering I caused you. I just want us to go back to what we had before... so we can laugh again and see the world in color, not black and greys. I can’t describe in words how much I regret hurting you, and I know I could inflict all kinds of pain on myself, but it wouldn’t take any back that I gave you.” 

“Gyro,” you cut him off softly, “I don’t need apologies. I’ve had too many of those at my door for years now, and I don’t know what to do with them.” You placed your hand on his chest and smiled at him, “What I need is you. Just you, and that’s all. Keep bothering me in the mornings about being hard to wake up, keep letting me secretly feed Valkyrie treats when you pretend to not notice, keep being there for me and Johnny when we do something dumb—just don’t leave.” 

He looked like he was on the verge of crying, face tinted red and scrunched up, lip trembling. 

You stroked the sides of his neck back and forth, “Go ahead if you need to; no one's gonna judge you here, never.” He let out a hitched breath and closed his eyes, saccharine tears sliding down his face. 

“I thought this was going to be the opposite way, y’know?” he sniffled, letting out a short laugh. “Oh don’t worry, I’m a wreck over here too. Your eyes are just closed.” He peeked through them, and true to your word, you were also going through it. You hummed against his palm, “Looks like ‌all three of us are getting hugs and sobs these last few days.” 

“If only Johnny were here to see us,” he joked, keeping his stunning green eyes on you while wiping off some water that was on your face. 

Under the warm light of the sun, it was just you and him, still soaked in the damn pond, bawling your eyes out because you’d both finally gotten each other back after agonizing days apart. Proximity meant nothing to you both if you couldn’t even do anything in it during all that time. 

“I still have more questions,” you admitted, basking in his warmth, “Do you think I can get any answers to the questions I still have? There’s so much I want to know about you Gyro…” He looked down at you and ran his hand through your tangled hair, “Whatever you want to know, the answer will be yours; I’m done hiding who I am, and I can’t stand you and Johnny not knowing anymore. It’s been eating at me, and I think I just needed a nudge to get me there.” 

You beamed at his response, tired but content to know you had a good portion of his trust now. “Why don’t we get back to camp before we even get close to that? I don’t want to just prod at your life either—you’re more than that. If there’s something I really should know, then I’ll trust you to tell me, but at least let me get your favorite food. You listed some interesting things a few days ago, and now I might need to try some Italian meals!” 

He grinned, gold teeth peeking out at you, ‌and scooped you up, carrying you bridal style as you let out a yelp. “Contrary to what you’d think, it’s not anything fancy. Just cooked fish, bread, and a glass of wine.” He carried you through the water back to your clothes and the fish you had caught. “And yours, Bella?” 

He set you down and you thought about it while putting your shoes back on, “I think I’d have to go with anything starchy. It reminds me of the wheat fields from home.” He accepted your answer with a ‘Nyo Ho!’ and started to help you bring back the food to camp. 

“By the way,” he began, arms carrying the fish, “did you say you were sneaking Valkyrie treats?” He raised a brow at you and spoke in a tone that suggested he hadn’t actually been aware of your discreet moments of weakness when Valkyrie looked hungry. 

“Did I say that? Must’ve been the wind…” you looked around in mock confusion, clearly not selling the act. 

“I knew she was favoring you more than normal!” You couldn’t help yourself and snorted. After that, you both made the brief trip to camp and set your stuff down. 

Johnny, who had been tending the fire this entire time, looked up and down, “It’s been an hour! Where the hell have you guys been, and why are you both soaking wet? And why are you both beat up?!” You and Gyro just looked at each other with an embarrassed expression and shrugged. 

“The fish fought back?” you answered sheepishly, settling near the fire to dry off. 

“Uh huh,” Johnny nodded, clearly not believing you. “You guys made up, didn’t you?” 

You and Gyro whipped your heads towards him, baffled at how he nailed it on the head. “How’d you know?” Gyro questioned, beginning to remove the scales from the fish. Johnny pointed to Valkyrie, who was standing near the other horses, and who was also currently getting petted by your stand that had manifested without you knowing. 

“She hasn’t petted Valkyrie during the entire time she was mad at you, but now her stand is all over your horse. Coincidence? I think not.” Johnny wore a smug grin on his face, knowing he read you both like a book. “I'm glad,” he spoke up again, seemingly relaxed, “knowing you guys are good makes me at ease. After all, I can’t be losing my partners here now.” There was a pause before he pointed to you both, “Remind me not to get into a tussle with either of yall; I don’t wanna have to get into a fistfight to settle it.” 

You spluttered at that comment while Gyro barked out a laugh before all of you went back to relaxing. Now that everyone was settled, life on the road would be back to its wild side with occasional dumb conversations here and questionable life choices there. The only thing that would really change was the pot of emotions that had brewed over the span of a week and a half, which had also probably been brewing for the last few months. 

Now, when you looked at Gyro, you felt the same twitch in your chest that you felt for Johnny. Beforehand, you had already been feeling something for Gyro, but after what happened in the pond, those feelings got amplified to a degree you didn’t think was possible. You could still feel how he had held you in a way that borderlined on devotion—his hands caressing your waist, your cheeks, your hair, all of it. 

Gyro Zeppeli was now on the roster labeled ‘potential men that I wouldn’t mind spending the rest of my life with’. Now, it was an agonizing decision on who to potentially give your heart to, should they not shut you down. You couldn’t just waltz in and offer them both your love and affection, deciding not to choose one over the other. You didn’t think it was possible to have two men who had touched your entire being at the same time….Could you…? 

You were definitely going to have to think about it...

You had also thrown Gyro and Johnny in the same boat. For Gyro, he had never felt such an intense need to have someone know him for any reason other than the sake of work. He did not willingly share anything people knew about him, and even so, people hardly knew anything about the executioner. However, he had shoved his past into your palms with a burning desire to bring you closer to him, to have you see who he was at his core. 

Gyro, for the first time in his life, wanted to be more to someone than he was to himself. He craved that you ‌look at him and not see him as an executioner, or a master of the spin, or any other title people had given him. He longed for you to view him as Julius—the paradox of a strong but tender man who, ironically, cuddled a pink teddy bear with a passion for horses and had recently found himself drawn to a woman involved in cattle ranching. 

As for Johnny, his stance hadn’t moved at all. You had seen him at his lowest and picked up the shattered pieces of him, helping him put them back together with a reverence that could make him weep. You had looked at him and his lame feet and didn’t say a single word about it; rather, you had treated him like an actual person instead of a task. Additionally, you had made him want to experience life to its fullest—he didn’t want to go back to Kentucky and have alcohol as his only friend. He wanted you there, in his future, and as his home. 

(Johnny Joestar x reader x Gyro Zeppeli)

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It had been a day since you'd all faced off with Scary Monsters and since you had last seen Diego Brando, which could be good or bad depending on how you looked at it. While it was no good that he was now after the corpse parts, you couldn't deny that not having to encounter him let you sleep better at night. Why did he want the corpse parts, anyway?

Now that you were thinking about it, you were running a mental checklist of all the possible reasons Dio could be after the corpse parts now. It was most likely for the miraculous power they granted, but with him, there was really no telling. You then dived into a tree branch map of why he would want the power and all the reasons for that; damn, this was hurting your head. If he did want them for power, it might be to knock out other racers to prohibit them from getting first.

Your thoughts kept spiraling when you thought about Dio because, apparently, for all the information you had on that man, none of it was relevant or of any use. Each question you tried to answer just made you think of another one. Who was he? What was his reason for joining the race? What reason for joining the race would warrant such an extreme reaction to the corpse parts? Enough reason to try to kill everyone, you thought.

You groaned and rubbed your head, setting aside the giant folder in your mind that was labeled “Mysterious Pebble Eater” for another day. You were getting nowhere with trying to figure out the secrets of Diego Brando, so you opted to do something more productive regarding him. Since the last leg of the third race was coming up, you elected to try to trick Diego out of a better spot than you.

Back at the start of the first stage, you had caught the tail end of his and Gyro’s conversation about how he could tell a horse’s ticks, which allowed him to get a lead on Gyro. You reasoned that if he could do that with Gyro’s horse, he could do it with yours. With that in mind, you began to try to teach Evernight to fake a tell that Diego could fall for.

Anything else wouldn't work because Diego Brando was a horse genius, and his placement in the race was more than enough proof of that statement. Unfortunately, your position as first in the race was being threatened by Diego, so if there was anyone to watch out for, it would be him. Hence, why you’d even take the time to do something as ridiculous as teaching Ever Mid Steel Ball Run to fake a habit.

If you tried to ram into him as he had done to you, people would see it coming from a mile away, and with so many officials near the end of the race, sabotaging him with your bow and arrow would put you in the same spot Gyro ended up in at the end of the first stage. Penalization was a serious thing that the officials took no joke about; if they saw you doing something shady, it would be over for you.

Now, why was it that you were stooping this low in the first place? You were upset, to put it simply. Diego had tried to knock you off your horse, he had tried to turn you into a dinosaur and murder your friends, and now he was actively searching for the corpse parts you had all so painstakingly gotten. You also didn’t forget the fact that he commanded several dinosaurs to piss on your good clothes.

Needless to say, if you were going to play dirty against anyone, it was him. Johnny really hadn’t been lying when he was warning you all to stay away from Diego, and hell, you guys had tried to stay away from him! Somehow, the smell of coffee had thrown that attempt out the window and into the corpse of a bear.

Lastly, you wouldn't put it against Diego to try to sabotage you again; he was a rat that only had eyes for himself. He was cunning, and he knew it. Diego would use his ability to read horses and his own intelligence to screw you over at any given chance, so you had to be prepared to deal with what would come. You were certain he would attempt to get ahead of you and take the lead, even if that meant making risky, calculated gambles that few others could pull off. It truly was your gamble versus his, and you weren’t going to let him or Scary Monsters win that easily.

You had been teaching Evernight for a few hours now to take a deep inhale every 15 meters you went, slowing down his movement speed by just a fraction. It was subtle enough for someone like Diego to notice, but also effective to use because as soon as you gave Ever the clear to run at top speed, unaffected, it was over for Diego.

Every 10 meters, you had squeezed Evernight as hard as you could, forcing the air out of him, until it got to 15 meters where he took a deep gulp of air. Gyro and Johnny had been riding in front of you, so they weren't able to see what you had been secretly planning. All you could hear from them up ahead was the casual loudness Gyro carried and the groans of Johnny each time he was subjected to one of Gyro's godawful jokes.

“So,” Gyro began, looking at Johnny with a grin that meant he was about to say something stupid, “If you drop a bar of soap on the ground, does that make the soap dirty, or does it make the floor clean?”

Johnny pulled down his beanie over his eyes and let out the most annoyed groan you think you've heard from him yet. Yeah, they were gonna be just fine.

“I know I said I liked your jokes, but if one more comes out of your mouth, I'm shooting you with Tusk,” Johnny grumbled, beanie still over his head while trying to use it as a make-shift sound muffler.

He was ready to slam his head against the wall with how long Gyro had been on topics that revolved around nothing and jokes that went nowhere. He appreciated the guy, he really did, but after several hours of this, he was about ready to drop off of Slow Dancer and have the horse trample him. He found it baffling that someone could ride behind them and listen to this for hours on end. Speaking of you, what had you been doing this entire time?

Johnny peeked from under his beanie to look at you behind them and saw you riding casually, yet focused on something that was taking all of your attention. You hadn’t even been paying mind to Gyro’s bullshit, had you? He slowed down his horse so you could catch up from where you were at, putting you in the middle between him and Gyro since Valkyrie had matched her pace to his horse’s.

“What’re you doing back there?” Johnny contemplated and went to give Ever a pat on the neck.

Gyro quieted down with his nonsensical questions and turned his focus to you since he was also curious about what you’d been up to for a while now. You would usually have some sort of commentary on his blabbering, but you’d been so silent he had forgotten you were there for a second.

You brought out some dried meat and began to munch on it, figuring Ever could use a break. “I’m teaching Evernight a new trick to use in the race later. I was thinking that if I could get him to be able to trick Diego when we get to the end of the third stage, then I’d stand a better chance against him,” you replied, mouth full of jerky as you spoke, “I have the most points right now so it stands fair to assume he’s going to come for me if he gets the chance”.

Gyro looked at you with a surprised, yet interested raise of his brow, “A new trick? Nyo Ho! Perhaps Valkyrie here could learn a thing or two from you! I’m glad I didn’t get rid of you back then.”

…

What.

Everyone froze; you positively ripped your concentration away from Ever and slapped it right on Gyro’s pale face. On your right, Johnny had choked on his spit and began to cough rapidly, slamming his fist against his chest, while Gyro himself felt his blood go cold.

Johnny had to force himself to hold in his wheezes as he heard in real time Gyro’s immense fumble. The suddenness of it made his spit go down the wrong pipe hard enough that he was giving a rubber chicken a run for its money.

Gyro hadn’t meant to say that at all; the thought had suddenly placed itself into his head, and before he could think better, his mouth was moving and his brain was regretting every single second of it. He had been so tied up over trying to put the truth in front of you as easily as he could that it had slipped out accidentally without warning. Now, all he could see as his knuckles went white, gripping his reins, was the pure look of betrayal on your face.

That confession shattered everything you ‌believed you knew about Gyro in an instant. The warm outlook you had for him in your mind was now replaced by a clinical coldness that assessed him as a threat rather than an ally. Angry tears began to well up in your eyes, which clouded your vision, but they didn’t matter to you right now. No, you were more focused on tearing Gyro apart for information, and if he didn’t give it to you now, he could say goodbye to having you with them in the race.

“What do you mean you’re glad you didn’t get rid of me?” you demanded, voice devoid of any warmth.

“I didn’t– What I meant was–,” Gyro kept backpedalling, his eyes refusing to look at your face.

“Out with it!” you screamed, not in any mood for anything less than the truth. “If you don't start talking in the next 10 seconds, you can kiss my ass goodbye,” you narrowed your eyes at him, glaring with a hatred he and Johnny had never seen you with before.

Gyro swallowed thickly, “I wanted you out of the race at the beginning. Enough to try to get you out…But I swear I don't want that anym–!” He tried to finish his sentence, but you were having none of it.

You took what was left of the dried meat you had been eating and pelted it right at his head, smacking him in the face, “What could I have possibly done to you! What was the reason?!”

All he felt was shame, heavy, hot shame, “It was the points…” he confessed, voice barely louder than a whisper.

The points?!, you thought, the one thing that had been out of your control was the reason he had tried getting you out of the race?!

“Get off your horse,” you demanded, sliding off ‌Evernight yourself and grabbing his leg, tugging him down and off Valkyrie. He didn’t take much convincing and stood on the forest floor, looking at the dirt, anywhere really that wasn’t you.

You slapped him in the face, which made a loud smack, and then yanked his hair to pull his face to your level. “You invited me into this group to stab me in the back, all because I won the points that the referees gave me by a technicality? Which, by the way, was whose fault again? Oh, right,” you placed your hands on his chest and shoved him away from you, “Yours”.

He hit Valkyrie, and his cheek stung from the force of your slap, but he didn’t move to fight you back. You weren’t done, though, oh no, “You are one of the most vile men I have met as of now, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d put you in the same damn bucket as Diego. You make me disgusted, and the main reason isn’t even because you tried to throw me away,” you were sobbing now, “But because you did that when you knew I trusted you. You knew I would’ve gone out on a limb for you, and you did that anyway”.

You wiped your tears and got back on Evernight, refusing to look at Gyro’s ruined state, “Fuck you and your amnesty, Gyro”. You started to ride away, but at the last second, you turned back to him, “For your information, I’m in this race because my farm will die without it, and that money is the only thing that will be able to make sure my cattle aren't in the ground and my mother doesn’t have to live in the streets. So, yeah, once again, thank you for trying to rob me of saving that all”. You spat at the floor and kicked Evernight into a gallop, riding away from Gyro and Johnny.

As for Johnny, he sat there and listened to you go through the stages of grief with a sour look on his face. All he could do was sit on the side and bite his cheek, because if he had tried to defend Gyro at all and truly vouch that it wasn’t like that anymore, he wasn’t sure if you would listen. The worst part? He couldn’t even blame you; Gyro had tried to ruin your life, and now, with the knowledge of what was on the line, it made the reality of Gyro’s brutal betrayal worse than he had originally estimated it to be.

Once the reason for your participation in the race was out, Gyro didn’t even know where to begin. Had Gyro known how much was at stake for you, he would’ve never entertained the idea of trying to sabotage you; after all, he had just as much on the line. If someone had offered him warmth and a place in a group, only to find out they did it with malicious intentions, he’d be furious. Yet, that was what he had done to you, and he’d done so without a second thought.

That had been the whole issue, to be truthful. Gyro hadn’t stopped for one moment to consider why you were in the race or even ask about it without being an asshole, nor had he thought to offer you any sort of truth regarding himself. He hadn’t told you or Johnny anything important about him regarding Marco, his past, his family, nothing. He had left vague mentions, yes, but they were only enough to leave you both satisfied while dropping your curiosity about him; they were nothing really real.

All he could do for now was suck it up like a man and keep going, so that's what he did. He got back on Valkyrie and kept riding, following where you had gone off to, with Johnny giving him some space. As you all rode, grouped out from each other, the only thing he could see in his mind was the look you had on your face—eyes filled with tears, with the initial denial of treachery that morphed into apathy.

The road was completely silent as you all marched toward the end of the third stage. It wasn’t until you had begun to get to the end that noise had finally replaced the tension that had been brewing between you all.

The balloons were overhead as your horses galloped toward the finish line, “With the Rocky Mountains in the background, the distance to the goal has shrunk to 3 km. Let’s take a look now at each of the racers! In front of the crowd, we have Pocoloco from Georgia, followed by the barefoot runner, Sandman. Behind them, there's the Mongolian horse riding tribes, the Dot Han! Gaucho from Mexico, Baba Yaga from the Russian military, and with some space in between, Astraea, Johnny Joestar, and Gyro Zeppeli! Next to them is England’s Diego Brando!”

“Now, it is Diego Brando who is acting bizarre! As of the end of the second stage, Dio holds the second rank with 140 points! Astraea currents holds first with 150 points! If he can only beat her, then Diego Brando can take the lead! For some reason, he is going after Gyro Zeppeli and Johnny Joestar; he’s sticking right behind them!”

“It seems he’s thinking that as long as he can beat Gyro, then he may as well have won this stage! It seems Dio is unconcerned with Astraea, who is far ahead!”

Gyro looked ahead of him and saw you riding straight ahead, unconcerned with the announcer's commentary on Dio’s interest in him. He really fucked up, didn’t he? Beforehand, you would’ve slowed down in an instant and tried to protect him as much as you could, but now you were keeping your head straight, refusing to stop for anything.

He looked over at Johnny, who had stuck by his side in the back, giving you space, “Dio, on that mountain, he's come to understand his stand ability. He might try to attack us or start something here…”

Johnny faced ‌Gyro, hair flapping in the wind, “No, there's no way he would risk being disqualified here in front of the goal. There are too many balloons watching, so whatever he's planning on doing to defeat you, it’ll be without breaking any rules.” The horses bolted forward, kicking up grass and dirt, weaving in and out between the spaces in the field.

“To him, moving past you is as good as moving past Astraea, which would lead him to victory. It’s his fighting intuition! Be ready, Gyro, Dio is calculating the breath of our horses, their perspiration, their length of stride! That’s what he's using his new dinosaur ability for! Dio is stealing our data more perfectly than ever!”

From above, the balloons spoke again, “Now, right before the goal, we have Lake Cannon with a circumference of 3900 km. If the racers choose to go right, they will be taking the waterside route! It’s flat, but there’s a fairly lengthy 2400 meters until the finish line! Choosing left means a 700-meter shorter route of 1700 meters, but that road’s on a cliff and has many ups and downs!”

“Which route will they choose? How will it affect the muscles of the horses that have been traveling through the mountains for days?! This is a new experience for everybody, even the horses! Their choice will be their gamble!”

Hoof steps sounded around Johnny as he rushed forward, quickly approaching the lake. He gritted his teeth and ducked quickly to dodge a handful of dirt that got kicked toward him, “We have to go right, Gyro! Don’t say left! Think of the horses; the key to victory will be how much rest we can give our horses!”

When he looked at Gyro, he was expecting him to agree, but Gyro had been staring straight ahead towards the water. What was he thinking? There’s no way he was going to do what he thought Gyro was going to do; if he did that, it would be condemning his horse to run out of energy faster than taking either the left or right route.

Gyro hadn’t seemed to care, and he could say anything before the time they had reached the water, so he halted his horse at the edge of the water and watched in disbelief as Gyro dove straight into the water. Not only that, but a second splash soon followed as Dio went in right after him, determined to take Gyro down.

“As expected,” roared the balloons overhead, floating their way towards the goal, “Sandman has headed left! Oh! Pocoloco and Astraea follow! They’re taking their chances with the cliff! The ones going right are Dot Han, followed by Baba Yaga and Guacho, who have swapped places!”

Back on the cliffs, you watched as Gyro and Dio went into the water while Johnny had an internal debate on what to do: follow or go a different way? You felt a little bad for Johnny because he had done nothing to you, but he was with Gyro, who was no better than a snake to you now. You don't know why you abandoned the core things that had kept you safe for so long around them so easily.

Men were not to be trusted, because any time that they were, it would only lead to pain and suffering. Every interaction you had with a man up to this point had led to a fight or simply caused way too much trouble for it to ever be warranted, and it was no different with Gyro. If Dio was going after him, he might as well be doing you a favor.

The one thing that made you want to go against any of that was the crushing feeling of being a fool, because only fools would start to garner feelings for the person who had tried to take everything from them. For you, there was still a part that you had tried to bury as best as you could that still wanted to run to Gyro and defend him. You wanted to shove Dio down into the water and keep Gyro safe from danger, to keep him and Johnny close to you in the way you had learned to exist with them over time.

As much as the betrayal hurt, Gyro had become a pillar of comfort for you. He was an asshole, but he was kind where it mattered; he was rough in the way he went about things, but he could also do it with a gentleness that hinted towards him having a bigger heart than he put on display. You could argue with him about the dumbest of things and insult each other all day long, but at the end, he would sit with you by the fire or hand you a blanket silently if he saw you were cold.

You had to tell yourself those moments didn’t matter now, because if your heart still longed for his company, then it was still open to being hurt. You shook your feelings off and continued forward after Sandman and Pocoloco; you had a spot to secure, and you weren't about to let your feelings fumble that.

“What a surprise! A third route had emerged thanks to Gyro Zeppeli and Diego Brando, who have just now gone into the lake, but it may not be the wisest of choices! The water resistance will wear out the horses like nothing else, and yet Dio, the genius jockey, has chosen that route. The distance is a much shorter 450 meters, so it may just be the fastest route! This race has just gotten a hell of a lot more interesting!! There is going to be a grand battle right in front of the goal!”

On the lake’s edge, Johnny was panicking about what he should do, “Fuck! If you're scared don't come… Is that it, Gyro? Damn it!” He shoved Slow Dancer into the water and called out to Gyro, “This is nuts! It’s like a horse carrying another horse while crossing! The water resistance requires muscles that aren't usually used, and what if there mud at the bottom?! At that point, our horses will be finished!”

Gyro turned to Johnny, decision made firm in his mind, “That’s why I'm slowing to a minimum. I won't put stress on their limbs! Just the speed I need to get ahead of the rest of the going around the lake!” He and Johnny watched as you and Sandman traversed the cliff side, dancing around one another to try and steal the lead, “I’m sure that's what Dio’s planning too!”

The corpse eye began to turn back to brown as Gyro’s resolve increased, “I’m going to get 100 points on this stage! No matter what, or else we’ll be even further from victory! I came to win this race, and my fatherland is waiting!”

“Let’s go back, Gyro!” Johnny tried to dissuade him. It was clear to Johnny that staying in the water was going to end in disaster; he had experience with horses that went back years due to his past as a jockey, after all. “It’s not too late. Let’s go back to the shore and go around from the right! I don’t want to say it, but this is most likely what’s going to happen. You’re not going to get first in this stage, Gyro. Beating Dio isn’t on the table for us right now.”

“I'm not saying this because I think Dio is calculating our horses too well or that he’s going to use his dinosaur ability, and it’s not about your weak points. How do I say this… You should have been able to win the first and second stages based on technique and drive”.

Gyro was getting impatient; if Johnny wasn't going to speak up, then it was a waste of his time, and he should just go back to riding. “What is it? Just say it! If you're going to come up and talk to me like you're so great, then say it clearly!”

“I am being clear!” Johnny growled out. He knew Gyro was upset because of what had happened between him and you, but that didn't warrant the snappy behavior he was giving him. If Gyro wanted to get all pissy, then he would meet him head-on, “You will lose to Dio, I can tell. You can't beat Sandman either, nor Astraea, and I know from experience. You may be thinking that the reasons you lost on the first and second stages were because of troubles and accidents, but that’s not it.”

The light in Johnny’s eyes disappeared and turned into something distant, “You’ve learned and inherited from your country and parents, right? You're running this race with the technique and energy from the spin, and I understand you're in a cornered situation where you have to save an innocent boy sentenced to death, but those are all the things you’ve inherited”.

Gyro scowled. He knew that Johnny had gone through his luggage back then, but now that he had connected the dots, he felt more exposed than ever. No one was supposed to know about Marco, and now he was dropping more and more things about himself that he never had meant to.

“You have continually inherited,” Johnny explained, “Dio is different, they all are. He has stolen everything, from his horse skills to his social status, even food. Ever since his birth, Dio had been a person who had even stolen destiny. He has hungered in a way you have never felt, and in comparison, you are only a successor. I'm not saying that one of those is better than the other, but the difference will show in the desperate moments when you find yourself not being able to push forward. That difference will steal your victory and eat you up”.

“What are you saying?” Gyro’s expression turned hostile, ready to argue that what Johnny was saying was irrelevant. “Are you trying to paint me as a spoiled boy by my parents and a coward? Is that it?”

“Quit that, you know I'm trying to help.” Johnny placed his hands on his hips, and the space between his brows drew together, “You can’t win unless you hunger, but not like Dio. You need to hunger, but in a much more noble manner. You need the drive to grasp things and take them for yourself; you need to be greedy.” He waved a dismissive hand towards Gyro and steered Slow Dancer away, “I'm done here, and I’m going back to shore. Sorry, but I'm taking the route to the right. You can have fun dealing with Dio.”

Gyro watched, somewhat frustrated, as Johnny had also left him. Fine, he’d do it on his own; he didn’t need you or Johnny to defeat Dio.

He kept parting the apparently interminable water, trying his best to get around Dio, but as Valkyrie’s legs pushed through the icy cold lake, Dio sped up from behind him and went straight for him.

“What’s this?” Water sloshed behind Gyro as his skin began to pebble, the balloons overhead commenting on what could be another attack from his undeterred rival. “Dio is riding up from behind Gyro and is weaving his way into his space. Is it to agitate him? Or is it because he has a plan and is setting it in motion? It looks like Dio wants to cut Gyro off and take the lead from him! Already one third of the way, and he’s managing to pull ahead of Gyro!”

Petulantly, Gyro sneered at Dio. The downturn of his brow and the narrowing of his eyes were well known and offensive, aimed at Dio as he bit down on his tongue in seething defiance. Gyro didn’t want to depend on Johnny; he really didn’t want to depend on anyone, but he couldn't get those words out of his head, the ones about ‘hunger’.

His neck strained, muscles taught as he watched Johnny outwardly leave him. “Johnny, that fucker,” he patted Valkyrie’s neck as she began to get severely tensile, “Shit…because of all that weird stuff he said, Valkyrie can sense that I’m agitated. Dammit! It’s throwing me off! He thinks we’re just some idiots crossing the lake, but he doesn’t understand your potential.”

He readjusted Valkyrie’s mask and wiped some sweat off his face, “Those two partner ditchers don't realize you’ve got a special skill waiting for us when we land on the other side. That’s why we need to be careful not to get distracted by Dio’s movements while we’re in the water.”

He didn’t know everything about Johnny, but something was telling him through the violent but somewhat saner anger that Johnny wasn’t acting without reason. Sure, Johnny could be an ass sometimes, even perverse when it came to it, but he wasn’t the type to abandon all morals and leave him to eat shit with Dio. If he had to place Johnny somewhere in the broad scope of ethics, he’d say that Johnny was aware of what was righteous and what wasn’t.

That didn’t mean Johnny was one to walk a completely straight path; they’ve killed people after all, and it's been made abundantly clear Johnny would do so again without hesitation. Despite that, Johnny was also truthful and unaccountably thoughtful; there were moments where Johnny was irreducible, but then would turn around and be emotionally raw, crying.

It was funny how paradoxical Johnny could be when it came to things. It seemed like he would act according to the situation and who he was dealing with, rather than concealing his emotions for the upper hand. If he wanted someone dead, everything about Johnny would point to that fact, but as soon as he had actually killed a guy or gotten stuck in a position that forced him to feel anything impactful, it showed across his face. Johnny was an enigma, but one that had patterns.

To put it simply, if that was even possible, he firmly believed Johnny wouldn’t ditch him because he knew Johnny cared for him, and also because you would be mad… would have been mad…if Johnny had just up and left him. If Gyro were anyone else, Johnny really might have just let him be isolated with Dio, but he wasn’t just anyone to Johnny, and Johnny wasn’t just anyone to him. He needed to think about what Johnny had said to him and why Johnny had abruptly gone to the bank.

Wait, had Johnny done…. He did. Johnny had left him, not because he wanted to fight against him or watch him brawl with Dio, but because he had been trying to teach him a lesson back.

Johnny was trying to teach him how to hunger.

Facing Dio alone put him in a tactically inferior position that would force him to take. If he wanted to win, he would need to put the things that he inherited to the side and rely on the weight of an imminent loss to surpass Dio. He instinctively shifted his gaze to Johnny, who was now steadily clinging to the lake bank, watching him from the side with a quiet lethality. He understood now that, should he fail to hunger, Johnny would step in at a moment's notice and help take care of Dio.

Alright, let’s meet your challenge, Johnny. He set his green eyes on Dio’s back and peremptorily sent Valkyrie hustling forward; she puffed out of her nostrils and swam as hard as she could, listening to the orders Gyro was giving her. Valkyrie fought against the water’s tension until she was at least 10 meters away from Dio.

Dio shifted against the wet fur of Silver Bullet, glancing sidelong at Gyro. “Gyro’s horse has a pulse that is currently at 198… What a muttonhead, that horse will never make it. After breathing twice, it'll take a deep breath and shift its body to the left.” Just as he had predicted, Valkyrie leaned to the left as Gyro splashed the water to keep his balance on her. “She’ll shake her head next, I’m sure of it…”

He made eye contact with Gyro, sliding his tongue against the sharpening teeth on the inside of his mouth. Equally, they both wanted to drag each other under the water, spontaneously grab at each other's throats, and have the satisfaction of knowing the loser had their lungs filled with water. They were both drenched, with their horses beginning to tap out due to the unexpected double weight on top of them.

“Neither Gyro nor his horse knows this, but his horse will step onto the land with its left foot. If I anticipate this correctly,” Dio muttered to himself, shoving his helmet down further onto his head and forcing his way towards solid ground – away from a very in pursuit Gyro, “His horse will step on a branch at the 75th step it takes. How lucky for me… About 300 meters from the goal, if indeed it steps on that branch, then that's where the horse reaches its top speed. Then, its pulse will be at 263, way more than it can handle.”

“At that moment, the horse will be overcome with fatigue, so although I'm taking a risk by crossing this lake so quickly, if I can stay ahead of Gyro at the point of that branch, he won't be able to stop me, nor will he or Johnny be able to defend that wretch of a girl from an attack. There’s no way they can all catch up after that.” Dio looked up to the sky and thought of all the people who had robbed them and smiled, mischievous and prophetic.

The commentators were eating the sudden tension in the race, shooting out words faster than some people in the crowd were able to comprehend, “Dot Han, Gaucho, and Baba Yaga are speeding up! They’re coming around from the right-hand side! Sandman, Astraea, and Pocoloco have cleared the cliffs, heading straight for the goal! Now, it looks like Dio is finally back on land with Gyro Zeppeli in pursuit! Dio is in the lead! There's only 500 meters between him and the goal, I wonder, what will the outcome be?!”

Valkyrie made it on land with a wobbly step, clearly unused to having to swim as a hulking land creature that was made to run, “Not yet, Valkyrie! Don’t go full throttle yet! Save your energy until the very end.” Gyro’s chest heaved up and down as his head turned to the left to see Pocoloco speed in front of him. All the racers were beginning to come into a close vicinity, but it was still too soon. “Don’t run yet, instead, think of it like a vacation, girl! We’re like two tourists cursing on the Caribbean beach!”

His wet, weather-beaten hair clung to his neck as he braced himself against the wind. He could now see Johnny coming up on the right behind Dot Han; he looked just as ferocious as he did, weaving in between racers to get ahead. Something was wrong, though… Johnny rode with a rough air, but what he was seeing from under his tilted hat was desperation. Johnny wasn’t riding towards the goal; he was riding towards the left side of the race track, almost like he was trying to get to something.

He followed the path Johnny was tearing through and trailed it until his eyes landed on your figure. You were on the left side, sweaty and stiff, from coming down the cliffside, but what had you on edge wasn’t the sudden drop you had taken – It was Diego. His palms grew clammy as he snapped his reins against Valkyrie, beginning to dart straight for you.

That coy bastard Diego had seen Johnny go to the right, and knowing he was still in the water, had taken the single and momentary opportunity to target you.

He could give less of a fuck about what the announcers were saying overhead. “Gyro Zeppeli is accelerating! He’s now running at a tremendous speed! It’s almost as if he’s a hunting dog going after a rabbit; he’s right on Dio’s tail alongside Astraea! Good lord, he’s even begging to throw luggage off his horse! He has to be trying to lighten its burden since most of the items hes tossing were soaked with water!”

“His speed is increasing as he drops his items, wait… He’s even tossing off his saddle! His saddle! The only thing he's keeping is the reins, but everything else has been thrown off his horse!”

This wasn’t fast enough for him; Valkyrie was still going too slow and was worn out from the water. His hands reached for his belt buckle and unclasped the two green hands, throwing the entire thing behind him. Next, his jacket and cape went; both items were flowing in the wind, showing off their purple and green hues under the shining light of the sun. He’d come back for his things later, but right now, all that mattered was making sure Dio didn’t do something abysmal to you.

He and Johnny were closing in on you, but they still had at least 30 meters to go, and that was outside of both their abilities' ranges. He needed to stay calm; getting antsy now would make him stumble, and that was what Dio was counting on. He threw off his holsters, along with one steel ball, and kept the other to intercept Dio.

On your end, things were going just as you had predicted they would go. Dio was in the lead, but you were right behind him, and that was a factor he wouldn’t allow to stay. If you had somehow managed to beat him here, then the points that would go to him would stack on you, giving you an insane lead.

Dio, unaware of your plans, was calculating everything out to the best of his prehistoric senses. Behind him, Gyro had reached his top speed in an effort to get to you and him. He could see Gyro leaning forward on his horse, bareback, dressed only now in his pants, socks, and a green no-sleeve shirt. Next to him was Johnny, who had been glaring at him with the intent to kill, brewing a fury in his veins that rarely came out. No matter, they couldn’t catch up with the racers in between, and hurting him openly would get them out of the race. He had you all trapped.

Dio looked over to you with the skin at the corner of his mouth becoming scaled and rough; he was reading Evernight’s movements, wasn’t he? You took that as your cue to start squeezing Ever, hinting to him to suck in air as you had taught him to. You waited until Ever went to take a breath at the 15 meters, and just as you’d thought, Dio took that as his sign to speed up in front of you.

“It’s such a shame that all of you have such predictable horses,” Diego flipped a piece of his hair, speaking to you in a demeaning tone, “Perhaps you should try something else besides riding. Maybe you’d look better on your back? Or perhaps you’d make a fine maid? Say, when this is all over, you could even clean my boots.”

Ooooh, just you wait, you archaic son of a bitch… It was game on. If he was going to little you down to something as demeaning as a whore, then surely he wouldn’t mind the upcoming trick you had for him.

“Really now?” You looked up for a second and rubbed your chin, acting as if you were really considering his words. If he wanted to go on an insult for an insult, then you could do that. “Well, make sure to double-check the shine on them, your highness, and when you do, say hi to the pantywaist in reflection for me, would you?”

“You filthy, poor excuse for a woman!”

Good, he was losing his temper. The more distracted you could get him, the more you had a chance at destroying him. The goal was closing in, and right before Dio could take a chance to speed ahead of you again, Ever took a deep breath, so you whipped your reins and went flying.

God, it was priceless, that look on his face. You laughed in his face heartily as he went from confused, to realizing what you had done, to vibrating in mindless, bitter rage. You, yes you, had successfully tricked one Diego Brando, the supposed horse genius and jockey that no one could beat in England. The same Diego Brando who had been credited with having the finest skills around and who had been receiving countless attention in the race because of it.

Gyro and Johnny watched from behind as you pulled a quick one on Dio, grinning in approval. It seems like you could take care of yourself just fine. However, the race wasn’t over, and they had a goal to get to. As you pulled in front of Dio, Gyro caught up to him and began trying to overtake him as well, but what Dio didn’t know was that Gyro also had a little something up his sleeve.

“It looks like Gyro and Dio are neck and neck! Fighting for who can get in front of the other as the goal closes in! Now, it looks like Gyro is slowing down with 200 meters left; both are feeling the strain from crossing the lake! He’s falling behind, and the fatigue is finally taking a toll on Gyro. Suddenly, the gap is widening enough that Pocoloco has just passed Gyro!”

“Gyro Zeppeli is falling behind! Dot Han is coming up behind him, only half a horse’s length away!”

It was then that Gyro decided to pull out the move he had been saving this entire time. With the use of the steel ball, he applied the spin onto himself, twisting his skin like how you would twist liquid out of a towel, and drained the water from his body. “How’s this weight, Valkyrie? Is this a little lighter? They say that 70 percent of the human body is water, so let's show some guts! We’re not spoiled cowards, not us. These steel balls that I've inherited from my homeland, they’re on our side!”

Water emptied from him, shrivelling his limbs and leaving him gaunt. Previously puffed, tanned skin turned sallow, looking more like an aged oak tree rather than the flesh of a person.

Obviously, to anyone who didn't know about the spin, it just looked like Gyro had been dripping tons of sweat. The balloons, not knowing any better, went with that assumption. “Gyro Zeppeli is sweating buckets! It’s running off ‌him like the Colorado River! Here he comes, here he comes! With 80 meters left, Gyro, who had fallen behind, is accelerating once more!”

Gyro clung to Valkyrie as best he could since his body had to fight against the wind, but it was all worth it since he sped past Dio, who was already pissed off with your actions, and gave him a wink.

“He finally takes the lead from Dio!” The roars from the nearby crowd were deafening, and soon, it was just 50 meters to the goal. Everything should have been straightforward, but as the universal rule would have it, Dio made that impossible.

One second, Gyro was riding on a half-dry Valkyrie, and the next, he was stumbling on top of her as she began to wobble. When he ‌looked down, her right leg was bleeding and leaking thick, sanguine fluid. He tried to find the source, darting his eyes around the area until they landed on Diego.

It seems transforming into a dinosaur was only just one of Dio’s many abilities, because the cause of Valkyrie’s sudden collapse had been Dio regurgitating pebbles he had eaten and spitting them at high velocity to turn them into projectiles.

This stronzo has a death wish going after Valkyrie…Dormire con un occhio aperto, Dio!

“Gyro Zeppeli tumbles! What will he do?! It looks like his horse has taken a nasty scrape, and there’s only 30 meters remaining…. 10 meters…. Goal!!!” You had been in the lead, but in your own smugness, you hadn’t seen Johnny running up from behind you to sweep the rug from under you right as you got to the goal.

He gave you a light smack on the back as he passed you, yelling, “Try not to be too mad at me!” You were baffled. He really just took that from you, didn’t he? Behind you, Diego crossed the line with Gyro coming in right after; all of you coming down to a slow trot.

“Johnny, you sneaky rat!” Ever walked over to Slow Dancer as you started to roughhouse with Johnny, nothing actually serious to where you could hurt him, but enough to convey your surprise at his pull through at the end. You started tugging at his hair while he tried to cover your eyes, then it evolved into havoc as he went for your sides, so you climbed over and onto his horse.

Yes, you were now having a ‘who can land the stupidest hits’ with Johnny, while in front of thousands of people on top of Slow Dancer. He groaned at your dumb actions, trying to dodge your jabs, “Aw, cmon’,” he groaned, lips half upturned as he entertained your shenanigans, “This shit's silly.”

“Silly?! You rob me of first and expect me to stand by silently?! What a cruel man you are, Johnny!” You fell backward onto Slow Dancer’s neck, grasping at your chest as if his words had physically wounded you. You even went the full mile and gasped before sticking your tongue out to the side and going limp with your eyes closed.

“Oh my god,” he laughed, not believing the bullshit that you were acting out. He was guilty of pulling some theatrics here and there for a joke, but with what he was witnessing, he didn’t know if he wanted to strangle you or applaud you. “Get onto your own horse, you absurd performer,” he pushed the side of your head until you fell back onto Evernight, who had been riding against Slow Dancer patiently.

You blew a raspberry, “What a bad audience”. You both stared at each other before you burst out laughing, and he shook his head, smiling. He wondered how he was going to be able to put up with both you and Gyro.

Speaking of Gyro, he had pulled up alongside you both as you rode into town, still a little shrivelled but recovering. The cozy and playful atmosphere had taken a sharp turn into something tense as your smile dropped from your face. You didn’t face him as you got situated on Ever, getting ready to leave again, but as you tried to go, he grabbed your wrist.

“Wait–,” he tried to get out, but you were still angry at him. Angry that he lied to you, angry that he tried to abuse your trust, and angry at yourself for falling for all of it.

You ripped your wrist out of his grasp and didn’t spare him a single glance. He didn’t get to waltz back into the comfort you and Johnny had and act like it was his own, not after that. Gyro watched as you left again, probably off to the stables to wind down before ‌they continued into the fourth stage.

He grumbled and clenched his fist, “That woman…” He looked at Johnny, who was staring at you with a concerned expression, before dismissing it and looking back at him. “If she would just wait for one second, I could explain!” He ran his hands through his hair, tugging at the strands frustratedly.

Johnny deadpanned at him and shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t like taking sides when it comes to this kind of stuff, but you did almost ruin her life. If I were her, I’d be doing much worse to you right now.”

“You’re not helping.”

Johnny stretched his neck and let out a sigh, “Just give her time, I’m sure she’ll come around.” Johnny looked at him as they started to circle around, going back for the stuff Gyro had tossed off his horse. “Why do you care so much, anyway? You seem more like the type to just let the issue solve itself or ignore it.”

Gyro thought about it for a second, but the answer wasn’t something he wanted to admit out loud. In truth, he cared because you and Johnny had been the first people he’d ever really allowed himself to get close to. He felt sick knowing that one of the only people who had gotten close enough to him to crack away at his walls had been thrown down by them, too.

His refusal to let anyone in had cost him you, and that scared him. He didn’t like the unpredictability that was found with you when it came to his feelings; if he could, he’d bury it all under the humor that had served as a shell to protect his emotions, but something kept tugging at him to avoid that.

Deep down, he wanted to get close to you and Johnny. He wanted to be vulnerable around you both without the fear of the backlash that usually came with it at home. Gyro didn’t want to be the executioner around you both…no, he just wanted to be Julius. Julius Caesar Zeppeli. The boy who wanted to spend his life doing something he loved, but instead got forced into a role that might as well have made him a reaper.

At the young age of 13, he had never felt so old.

However, he’d rather die than say that out loud, so he just opted to give Johnny a half-assed answer. “I care because I don’t want it affecting the race later on. If we all get out of sync, it’ll be bad in a fight, and with how things are going, that’s not an option.” Johnny hummed at that answer, accepting it for now.

As they collected Gyro’s belongings, Gyro reflected on his inability to pass Dio up fully. He gave Johnny a long, hard look as he threw things towards the growing pile of stuff. Johnny was right, and it was just as he had said: he needed a hunger that was superior to Diego’s. The reason for his defeat wasn’t because of an accident, but because he could not hunger.

Gyro came to the conclusion that he needed to hunger more than Diego if he wanted a shot at saving Marco; he might even need to hunger more than Johnny. He was trying to find the corpse of that saint during the race, and that was what he wanted more than anything. Johnny wanted that corpse, no matter what, and he was even willing to risk his life for it.

Maybe seriously searching for the corpse parts would help him grow a little… Maybe he should try to follow his example…

Overhead, the speaker blares to life with the official placements. “At this point, the fourth stage has already begun! Johnny Joestar is the one who won the dead heat battle at the goal, but an hour ago, Hot Pants had already passed through the finish line to take first place! Therefore, the placements are as follows for the top five: Hot Pants, Johnny Joestar, Astraea, Diego Brando, and Gyro Zeppeli. Additionally, Hot Pants will receive 100 points and a one-hour time bonus.”

Gyro and Johnny looked at each other before Gyro spoke up, “What the…? Already… passed the finish line?!!!” They both started scrambling and shoved the rest of Gyro’s stuff onto Valkyrie as he put on all the clothes he had tossed off.

At the stables, you were just as stunned, completely in shock that someone had not only come in first, but had done it an hour ago. How did they even get here that fast?! You fed Evernight one last pear before you hopped back on him and rode to go find Gyro and Johnny. If you guys wanted a shot at coming in first, then you all needed to start leaving again.

You saw them hanging around the edge of the goal, so you whistled to get their attention and nodded your head in the direction of the fourth stage. They both gave you a thumbs up and went over to you, ready to go.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” you gave Ever a scratch on the nose and kicked him into a smooth canter, still not wanting to push him too hard after finishing the third stage. Gyro and Johnny followed behind you as you all prepared yourselves to deal with what would come in the next days.

Unfortunately for everyone, that meant dealing with one very stubborn you, an agitated Gyro, and a fed-up Johnny.