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eleanor-bradstreet · 1 year

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Take Me Instead (Anthony Bridgerton x Reader)

Anthony Bridgerton x gn!Reader Modern AU Rated/warnings: T - language, robbery, gun use, blood Word count: 3k

Summary: You and Anthony find yourselves in the middle of a bank robbery on an ill-fated day.

Author's Note: This is a belated birthday gift prompted by the fabulous and talented @broooookiecrisp and a game of prompt roulette that gave me: sad, Anthony, "take me instead". I hope you enjoy my dear 💙 Kudos also to @sorryallonsy who found the perfect header image!

This wasn’t supposed to happen. This was something you saw in movies, not something that happened in real life, and certainly not to you. When the doors to the bank were pulled shut by three men who then dropped to their knees and started opening their duffel bags, your immediate thought was that they must be maintenance workers of some kind. Then when the sound of a gunshot tore through the marble lobby you froze with panic, unable to react at all. But you didn’t need to because Anthony instantly wrapped himself around you and pulled you to the floor as other patrons started to scream.

“Stay down,” he urged, his voice the only steady thing within the chaos. Though he was curled over you, you could both look around to see what was happening. The men at the door had risen wearing ski masks and holding assault rifles. A fourth man, the source of the fired shot, held a pistol in the air at the teller window. There were ten or so people in the lobby, all of them instinctively cowering. All the staff of the bank seemed to have disappeared and you guessed were hidden in their own corners. Directly across from you a woman huddled under a counter clutching a boy who looked about nine years old. He was still but his eyes darted wildly.

At the shouted insistence from the four imposing men everyone fell into an ominous silence. You realized you were trembling with fear and adrenaline only when your husband squeezed you tighter. The warm weight of him against your back felt like the only thing keeping you from flailing with panic.

“It’s going to be alright,” he whispered into your hair, his voice tight. You gave some semblance of a nod. You needed to stay focused in the moment, to do what he told you, to think of a way out, to at least get descriptions of the criminals. But all your mind would do was berate you for ending up in this situation. What were the odds that you would be in this bank at this precise moment? You and Anthony had been downtown, due to meet his brother for lunch at the cafe across the street when you remembered you still had money in your bag from your recent trip abroad. You were just there for a quick exchange, likely the first time Anthony had ever set foot in a bank for a purpose other than closing a multimillion dollar transaction. But he had tagged along, playfully pawing at you while you waited in the queue. Then hell broke loose and now that chance errand may have rerouted the course of your lives. It lit a spark of anger within your fear.

“Where’s the manager?” barked the man at the window. Unlike his companions he wasn’t compelled to hide his face. Red-haired with a scarred and stubbled face and broad build, he seemed to be the leader.

Everyone stayed silent. No one moved.

He seethed as he surveyed everyone lying on the floor. Then in a few brisk steps he was hauling the little boy out of the woman’s arms as they both screamed. He brandished the gun to make her let go, then held the boy in front of him with the weapon angled to make his intentions clear. “Where’s the fucking manager?”

Before you could react, Anthony pulled away and started to rise to his feet, moving toward them. “Hey, hey! Let him go.”

“Shut the fuck up!” So focused on the scene in front of you, neither of you had noticed one of the other men moving up behind, but he suddenly appeared beside your husband, flipped his gun and cracked him in the jaw with the butt of it. You bit your tongue to keep from screaming as Anthony staggered and fell back to one knee. “Stay down!” The man struck him again on the shoulder so that Anthony pitched to the floor, lying perpendicular between you and the robbers, just out of your reach.

You watched him spit a patch of blood onto the marble then wipe the crimson from his split lip with a swipe of his thumb. Your brain was static, a roar of furious and terrified cries that you were just managing to keep at bay. He turned to you, his deep eyes reading yours and you knew he could tell. He gave the barest hint of a nod. Reassurance. Strength. Insistence. You needed to stay quiet. You treasured the fact that you were able to read each other’s thoughts through your eyes alone, but you could never imagine that facet of your love would prove so vital.

The leader chuckled then continued to wave his pistol threateningly toward the boy who had gone pale, looking desperately back at his mother. “I’m going to need someone to help us into the vault or else things are going to go poorly. Do you understand?”

Across from you the mother crouched, looking ready to pounce at a moment’s notice but emitting a stream of quiet whimpers. She never blinked as she watched her son.

Footsteps broke the horrible silence and all eyes turned to a small middle-aged woman who appeared in the doorway of a side office. She walked forward slowly, hands raised in the air and shaking, but she spoke clearly.

“I’m the manager. I’ll take you to the vault. What…what do you want?”

She halted feet away from the men and the leader lowered his gun but never let go of the child. “We want access to the deposit box for one Jack Featherington.”

Your blood ran cold. Featherington? You knew the family. Longtime neighbors and friends of the Bridgertons. But you didn’t know a Jack. The chances of multiple unrelated Featherington families seemed slim. Who was he and what could he have that they wanted?

“You can’t…you can’t open it without his key. That’s how it’s designed.” The manager explained, tremulous.

The leader smirked. “Oh, we are well aware of that. Jackie boy has been evading us and we need some leverage to rat him out.”

Just then the wail of sirens could be heard narrowing in around the building and you felt a fraction of relief. Someone had managed to ring a silent alarm, or make a call, or someone outside had heard the commotion. Help was just beyond the doors.

“Right on schedule.” The leader smiled, dragging the boy to walk with him as he moved to the center of the lobby, explaining his plans with all the fanfare of a carnival barker. “Alright ladies and gents, here’s the good news. We aren’t interested in hurting anyone.” You heard Anthony snicker as he licked his lip. “We’re going to let you go.” A low murmur of surprise rippled across the floor. “All you need to do is tell all the news cameras and the good officers of the law outside that we need their help finding the lying Lord Jack Featherington and his keyring. Understood?”

You were breathing fast, trying to process what he said. You would be let go. This was just a spectacle, a bargaining chip in some grander criminal scheme. You weren’t targets, you were useful collateral. Maybe you could even help the police by contacting the Featheringtons. It would be over soon.

The leader moved back to the manager. “Okay, you’re staying to let us in and…” He paused, thinking as he looked across the lobby once more. “Well, we need an insurance policy so I think you’ll stay too.” He wrapped an arm around the boy’s neck, grabbed the manager with his other hand and began to pull them both toward the back hall. For the first time the boy screamed, kicking his feet as he struggled against his captor. His mother wailed.

“Let the boy go!” Anthony roared, rising to his knees.

The second man snapped to face him. “What did I tell you?” You barely saw the slight tilt of his weapon, barely heard the high pitched pop, but then Anthony fell back clutching his side and your lungs knew before your brain did that he had been shot. You screamed and the sentiment was echoed by the other hostages. As you crawled to your husband’s side you were deaf to the fact that the leader was shouting furiously at his colleague. All you could see was the stunned look on Anthony’s face as he sat up and pressed a hand just above his left hip, bringing it away bloody.

Your heart beat double time, every sense heightened as you took his hand in yours and saw the light reflecting off the wet smear on his palm the same way it glinted off your wedding rings. You sat next to him, hands roving aimlessly, clueless as to what you should do. “Oh my god, Anthony… no…”

“It’s alright,” he said quietly. “It just grazed me, I’ll be alright.” He tried to flash you a winning smile but you saw the grimace underneath it. You weren’t a doctor but judging by how fast the dark stain was spreading across his shirt, you knew he was lying about being grazed.

Seeing him wounded somehow organized the panic in your brain. You were still frantic but you were going to make a plan. You were going to get him out alive. “We have to leave,” you whispered urgently. “They’ll let us go. We have to get you to a hospital. I won’t let you die…”

His brows darted up with concern and he leveled his eyes on you. “Hey, hey, look at me. I’m not going to die. We’re going to get out of this and it will be the maddest story we ever tell. You understand?”

You saw how the love still overcame the pain in his features and hot tears started to mount in your eyes. You would find a way out together. Of course you would. You nodded, chin trembling.

The felons seemed to resolve their spat and the leader turned back to address the room again. “Now that we’ve got that settled, you lot stay down. We’re headed to the vault and taking these two with us. They get released when we get Featherington’s keys. You tell them that, yeah?” Once again he started to drag the manager and the boy down the hall.

“Stop!” Anthony shouted, pressing a hand tight to his wound.

The man who had shot him rounded on him for the final time, growling. “You motherf…”

“Take me instead.”

His words hung in the air for a moment. So simple. Spoken so calmly. Everything within you sank. “Anthony, what?! No…” You whispered frantically, gripping his arm.

“Oh, fuck off.” the man scoffed, moving to tower over you both with the gleaming metal of his weapon hanging inches above your head.

Anthony looked up at him with steely resolve, undaunted. “Take me. I’m worth more than every other person in this building combined.” His eyes flicked to the side then he added quietly, “No offense.”

The thug snorted. “What are you, Duke of Sussex?”

“Viscount. And I run a company. A large company. Look.” Hissing in pain as he moved, he reached into his blazer and produced his card, handing it up with bloodied fingers.

At the back of the room the leader had paused, watching curiously. “What’s it say?”

“Anthony Bridgerton. CEO, Bridgerton House Enterprises.”

The way the leader’s eyebrows raised, you knew he recognized the family name and the pit of dread burrowed deeper into your stomach. “Fucking hell, looks like we bagged a silver tuna.” A smile broke out across his face to rival a cheshire cat.

Now Anthony was removing his watch, gasping as he struggled with even the smallest movements. He held it out to his attacker, further incentive to accept his offer. It was his Omega De Ville, an obscene six-figure wedding gift from his friend Simon. “Here, take this,” he rasped. “You could buy a bloody house with that. Take me and let everyone else go safely.”

“No!” You pleaded aloud, holding tight to his arm. You didn’t care anymore if you upset the man floating a rifle over you both. You’d rather be killed or dragged away with your husband than have him do this. Even though you knew he was right. Even though you knew he was doing this to save an innocent child, to save you, to save everyone. Your heart wouldn’t accept it.

“Yes.” Anthony affirmed, not even looking back at you. He still addressed the criminals. “I won’t struggle. I can’t struggle now that you’ve fucking shot me. And if you wanted national attention… Taking me will get you global. All the bargaining power you could ask for. Whatever you’re getting out of Featherington, you could double it with the ransom my company will pay.” He was using that tone, that suave confidence that wooed all his business partners and had wooed you. You of all people knew how irresistible it was. You loved and hated him equally in that moment.

The gunman stared, dumbstruck. He turned the watch over in his hand, seemingly impressed, then called over his shoulder. “Boss?”

It didn’t matter how many prayers raced silently through your heart, you already knew how this was going to play out.

“Grab him.”

You sprang forward, flinging your arms around him and finally allowing yourself to weep. “Anthony…no…” He had only been yours for a year. One year as your husband. One year of a life he filled with bliss. It was not enough. You couldn’t let it end now, and not in this way. You would offer yourself in his place except no one had the leverage he did and that was precisely why he was doing this.

He pulled back and brought a hand to your cheek. You could feel the warmth of his blood streaking your skin. “I will see you again, do you understand?” His voice was low and you could hear the slightest tremor in it, a fear he would expose only to you. “This is just temporary. The police know what to do and we’ll both be alright.”

“I can’t leave you,” you insisted, tears running down your face. But you knew you were overruled so you tried to memorize everything about him in that moment. The precise shade of his brown eyes, the callused tips of his fingers as they brushed your skin, the warmth of his breath, the flecks of grey in his beard. An enduring memory that would be replaced when you held him again.

“Stay with my family,” he choked. “I will see you again. I love you.”

“Alright, alright…” The robber rolled his eyes then clapped a hand on Anthony’s shoulder, gripping into his clothes and starting to drag him back toward the leader. He gasped and fumbled to stand as he was pulled along but always ended up falling back, clutching at his side. The red-headed man shoved the boy toward his mother who threw herself around him and sobbed. It was as if the ability to cry was predicated on having your loved one in your arms because as soon as Anthony left your grasp you went silent, keeping your eyes on him as steadfastly as his were on you. The leader seemed pleased with the trade off and ushered the quivering bank manager to walk in front of him down the hall, keeping his gun pointed at her back while his cohort dragged Anthony at the rear. A parade of fear headed toward an uncertain end.

They rounded a corner and were out of sight, leaving a trail of blood behind them. You were frozen, blank, your body refusing to leave even though your mind knew you should. But once again someone came to your aid. The mother, one arm locked around her son, wrapped the other around you and dragged you to your feet. You knew she was whispering gratitude and reassurances but you had fallen deaf. The remaining two men with guns herded your band of hostages out the front doors and quickly locked them behind you. You vaguely registered the crowd gathered around the building - a police barricade, ambulances, news vans, a sea of onlookers. After stumbling down the steps with the woman and her son you were swarmed by people in uniform. Someone draped a blanket over your shoulders while an EMT began wiping the blood from your hands and face.

“It’s not my blood,” you insisted, finding your voice again as your senses slowly returned. “They shot him. They shot my husband.” You grabbed the nearest police officer and turned them to face you. “Please, he’s in there now. You have to help him! At the very least ask if you can send in medical help. He’s bleeding and…”

Then you heard someone shouting your name. Frantically, repeatedly, growing closer. You spun to see a man struggling and held back by a pair of officers. Benedict. He had been waiting for you both across the street and had no doubt seen the chaos erupt. You ran to them, hastily explaining he was your brother-in-law. The officers relented and you rushed into his arms, the two of you clinging together so tightly it was hard to breathe. He felt like an anchor to your sanity, a reminder that not everything in the world had gone unrecognizably sideways. Anthony’s words echoed in your mind, “stay with my family”, and you knew it was the only way you would have the strength to face this trial - together.

You leaned against Benedict as officers and EMTs circled you, taking your story, bombarding you with questions and confirming the details over and over. They promised they would get Anthony back. They promised he would be alright. They promised they would work to end this soon. But their promises held little weight next to the one that would haunt your every moment until it was fulfilled. If Anthony had promised you would see each other again, you were going to hold him to his word. He had kept every promise he had ever made to you. All you could do was trust he would keep this one too.

No tags for prompt roulette, just for dedications and co-conspirators 😜

#bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton x y/n #anthony bridgerton imagine #gn reader #modern au #whump and angst #angst

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heizuha-queen · 2 months

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I'm Back

This is the first prompt for Heizuha Week, Case Closure! @heizuhaevents

It's been almost a year since she last saw him, heard his voice, and touched him. Nearly a year since he suddenly disappeared into thin air, out of nowhere. No warning, no messages, no letters, no calls. Just like that.

People presumed he was dead, but his family refused to hold a funeral without finding him first.

Yet there he was, right in front of her, grinning like nothing happened like she hadn't waited for him for almost a year. Like she didn't cry over him and worry for months.

She looked at him shocked. His head was bandaged and the blood could be seen through it, he was wearing a cast on his left arm, and his face was so badly bruised.

Oh, this idiot. He looked like he escaped death yet was still grinning, looking happy to see her.

All of her anger disappeared and she felt her tears falling down. She threw herself at him and hugged him hard ignoring his hiss of pain, and sobbed.

Heiji wrapped his right arm around her and said, "I'm back, Kazuha. I'm finally back. You don't know how much I've missed you."

Her sobbing became louder, and she was gasping for breath. All the emotions she felt from the past months poured out of her. All the pain, anxiety, and sadness.

Heiji's eyes saddened and he tightened his grip around her pulling her closer, ignoring the pain it caused his body.

After a few minutes, Kazuha pulled away from him, her crying quieting down. She looked at him with sad eyes but smiled at him. She was relieved to see that he was alive and right in front of her, but she had so many questions. What happened? Why did he disappear? Who did this to him? Why was he gone for so long?

As if reading her mind, he said, "I know you have many questions, and I promise I'll answer all of them. Let's go inside."

-.-

She placed a cup of tea on the table in front of him, then sat next to him on the couch. She was thankful her parents were traveling so she could have some privacy with Heiji.

Heiji.

She still couldn't believe that he was right there, next to her, alive. Injured, and looked like hell, but alive.

"Wha- I- What the fuck, Heiji?" Kazuha's brain was spinning, she didn't know where to start with her questions.

"Where should I start?" Heiji chuckled, also not knowing where to start with his answers.

"Why the hell did you disappear?" Kazuha asked, her eyes brimming with tears, frustration clear in her voice. She tried not to get angry, not to get mad, and to be thankful that he was there, but it was impossible.

Heiji's eyes softened as he looked at her pained expression, "I had a case to solve, and it wasn't an easy one. It was dangerous."

Kazuha looked at his injuries, "Well, no shit Sherlock." She said sarcastically, then continued, "Why didn't you call us? Ask your dad for help? Why didn't you at least let us know you're alive!"

"I couldn't, just contacting you would've put you in danger," Heiji said, then sighed, "The people I was dealing with Kazuha, they're not the typical criminals we deal with, they would kill you and my family in a heartbeat."

He grabbed the cup of tea and took a sip, welcoming the warmth. Kazuha just looked at him in silence, waiting for him to continue.

"I wanted to keep you safe, away from all the danger. I don't know what I would've done if I lost you, Aho." His voice trembled at the last sentence.

Kazuha's tears fell again, and she felt a lump in her throat, a painful tightness that made her want to scream. She yelled, "Well, what about us, Heiji?! We want you to be safe too! What do you think I would've done if I lost you?! The past months were HELL! Each day the pain became worse and worse! Why would you involve yourself in something so dangerous?! Why would you do that to the people you care about?!"

"BECAUSE!" He shouted his anger rising, then took a deep breath, "Because, I wanted to help someone I care about Kazuha. Kudo is my best friend, and this organization was after him. Do you think I'll just sit down and do nothing?! Of course not, Aho! I helped him take them down and I'll do it again if I have to."

Kazuha was about to scream at him and curse his stupid best friend, but seeing the way he winced in pain when leaned down to put back his cup of tea on the table, Kazuha's anger vanished.

Seeing him so vulnerable, so injured, in pain, reminded her that things could've been worse. He's alive. He's alive and was right here with her, and that's all that mattered. Life was too short for her to hold a grudge against him. But she promised herself to give this Kudo Shinichi an earful.

"Oh Heiji, I'm just so happy you're here now," Kazuha sobbed, her tears still not stopping.

Heiji grinned, and patted her on the head, "God, you're such a crybaby."

Kazuha lightly pushed his chest, causing him to groan in pain. He obviously exaggerated it, proven by his mischievous smirk before he pulled her closer to him.

She laid her head on his shoulders, something he missed a lot, "I'm happy I'm here too. Back with you, aho."

She snuggled closer to him, closing her eyes and relaxing against him.

#HeiZuhaWeek2024 #HeiZuhaWeek #kazuha toyama #heiji hattori #heizuha #dcmk #heiji x kazuha #hattori heiji #toyama kazuha

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ranray · 9 months

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Since I wanted to share a few works of mine here's my last ShinRan fic's rough translation. It's called "Do you remember that sunset?" and were inspired by "Eternal Eternity" from Sailor Moon. So it some references to that song.

I'm really sorry for all the grammar mistakes or strange phrases (if there's so), I'm not good at English.

Fluff!

“Do you remember the first sunset we saw together?”

'I'll never forget that' Shinichi almost said. Even if he lived forever, he would never be able to forget the glitter of the setting sun and the gentle smile of little Ran. They were sitting on his bed and looked out the window, just like now, but when they were seven years old. When Ran's mother left her with Kudo’s.

Shinichi just took a look at the pale Ran to guess why. Kogoro and Eri's quarrel again. Each time stronger than the previous one. Each time, Ran stood aside and twirled her favorite pocket mirror in her hands.

Ran hoped it would stop. That two or three quarrels would be enough, but she had to cry more and more. Everything is not the same as it used to be - it's a new truth, it's hard to accept. Only Shinichi's sad look remained unchanged.

Shinichi could feel his anger growing. Two adults couldn't be so stupid. He couldn't move away from Ran in those years. Shinichi covered Ran with his small hand. The icy gaze of his eyes hurled spears at his negligent parents.

Even if it was late at night and his mother told him to not worry, he would dive under the covers with his phone, knowing that Ran couldn't sleep. He didn't talk about Holmes, he didn't bother Ran with detective stuff he loved. He listened to everything Ran had to say to her father and mother. Their mothers were angry tomorrow, and two children laughed together, discussing yesterday's events.

Ran grumbled with him and Sonoko about everything that happened, everything she wanted to say. Resentment, discontent, loneliness, everything that had accumulated in her young soul. Sonoko promised that she would take her with him to unwind at the sea, she was about to persuade her parents. Shinichi promised to go with them, even if he knew that the three children would never seriously go anywhere.

Days and months passed. Spring came after winter as well as new year at school. Shinichi remembered the terrible wind that tore off Ran's favorite hat. He remembered the tall tree he had climbed for it and the bruise he had received. Ran’s quiet "thank you" was all he wanted at that moment.

To Ran, every day seemed like an eternity. Every word of the parents brought the quarrel closer. One day is like another, and time has passed without waiting for Ran.

Ran, Mouri's only daughter, was left alone. She could spend the whole evening playing toys, plugging her ears with headphones to hide from her parents' quarrel, but, in an instant, she would inevitably grab her phone.

Through her tears, she searched for Shinichi's number, trying to catch his first or last name. She accidentally mixed it with Yukiko’s, but Yukiko understood Ran. She promised to persuade Eri to keep Ran with them.

It was easy for her. Shinichi didn't expect that in a few minutes he would see Ran in the living room with a small bag in her hands. As soon as their eyes met, Ran rushed to him. She wanted to see him so badly.

To hear his carrying words to her again. If Shinichi is around, if she could touch his arm, there are two of them. It's not scary if they’re together.

They enjoyed the sky. Yukiko scolds them, but tomorrow, now, the sunset is important. Shinichi squeezed Ran's hand. "You can count on me, Ran, always," Shinichi smiled. His cheeks flushed. Ran didn't need to know that this phrase was from a romance novel.

"Whatever happens?” Ran hesitated, but Shinichi squeezed her hand without the slightest hesitation. He was able to find Ran when they were playing hide-and-seek. And he believed that he would solve all the riddles if it saved her.

"I'm sure. No matter how much time passes, I'm there. It doesn't matter when," he whispered phrases from books. He said every one he could remember, just to make Ran smile. And he was telling the truth, even if it was like this.

And Ran believed. I believed that Shinichi would be there. He will be the one who comes if it is bad, as it is now. As always. As if it were meant to be. As if it was meant to be. Ran could rely on him.

"Lean on me," Ran whispers softly at the end of the sunset. Their slight smiles... A difficult moment that brought them together. Since that sunset we've always been together.

"Still, you lied to me," Ran sighed, noticing that Shinichi’s flashbacks ended. He pouted. "I've been waiting for you for a year, but you...”

"I'm sorry," Shinichi averted his eyes. I knew that ‘I'm sorry’ is not enough. After all, he was there all the time, unable to let go of Ran. While she didn't get more than a phone call.

"I don't know how I didn't figure it out," Ran was smiling now. Forgiveness had to be earned, but it was worth her gaze and their intertwined fingers. It was all worth it. "Conan-kun's hand was like yours... As if deep in my heart I knew...”

"I've gone crazy every time," Shinichi wasn't lying. Every tear Ran shed was his pain. The pain of an idiot who believed he could protect Ran like this. "Your gaze spoke more than words," he sighed. A sad question that had stuck in his head burst out. "Don't you regret forgiving me?"

"No," Ran smiled slyly. This is his first serious mistake. And the remorse in his eyes is enormous. “We have a long way to go. And I want to go through it with you, this time together. Like back then.”

"Together," Shinichi whispered. A single word breathed more warmth than the setting sun. "Together," he repeated, squeezing his hand on Ran's shoulder.

They seemed to be back in childhood among that similar seven-years-old days. Again, the sunset they met together. A sunset that they noticed separately in their rooms when they did not want to fall asleep. Their shared moment is timeless.

"I haven't told you that I missed you yet?" Ran chuckled. Shinichi didn't have to ask. He could see it in Ran's eyes. Her pain and loneliness. "I've thought so many times to go look for you...”

"And you'd found me many times," he exhaled languidly. How many times Ran exposed him? I had to go out of my way to deceive her. Every time Shinichi wanted to admit his defeat. “Do you remember that?”

“Yes... Even though you denied everything, I felt like you were nearby," a breathless whisper, a smile on his face. Ran clasped her hands around Shinichi's waist and squeezed them so tightly that he let out a low gasp. "It's like you've always been there... Like in your phrases from romance novels.”

“Did knew what I was repeating from the books that time?” Shinichi let out a small chuckle. Instead of hugging Ran back, he sat Ran between his legs. Ran blushed thicker than the sunset. Shinichi held her so tight that she couldn't move. "It may seem strange to you, but... Thank you. I’m happy that I’m important to you.”

‘What an idiot!’ Ran wanted to say. From the moment he soothed her as a child, Ran knew that he was important. That feeling was from love, but it's something similar. Friendship. Trust.

She knew she could run over to play with Shinichi if she felt sad. She could call him if she needs to talk. Only his presence made her feel better. All she had to do is find Shinichi.

And even though time slipped forward without a trace, as long as she didn't see him, he was there. In a message, call or a trinket gift - valuable part of his feelings and him. Always with her, no matter how time has passed.

It doesn't matter if fate existed. Ran wanted to believe in the thread on their little fingers. Still, Shinichi's smile at the sunset warmed her heart even more. Shinichi hugged her with a childish smile, not hiding his nostalgia for the sunset. Happy, that they’re a couple now.

Ran turned to Shinichi. A red ray of the setting sun descended on his face. Ran pressed her hand to his warm cheek. Together again from now on.

"Ran, if you'll stare at me, you'll miss the sunset!" Shinichi only teased her. He was thinking of something else, and you could see it in his eyes. "Afraid you won't be able to find me when it gets dark?"

"Don't tease me!" Ran chuckled. She held him with other hand. And didn't want to let go of him. "No matter when, we would still meet again?"

"Trust me. Until the very end, I will watch every sunset here with you," Shinichi whispered softly. He lifted Ran's hands to leave a light kiss on her small fingers. “You won't be lonely.”

"And you promise that you won’t leave me alone anymore," Ran loved to tease him back. Shinichi didn't mind it, he laughed. He deserved it. “Promise?”

"I promise that if something happens, we'll deal with it together," it is no longer a cliché from romance novels. A sincere promise, whispered only to Ran and Ran alone. For her and silent sunset.

"Let's share everything like this sunset," the phrase broke by itself. With a smile, Ran turned to the sunset, a faint arc of the great sun floating over the horizon.

"Then let me share something," the predatory tone of Shinichi voice made Ran laugh for some reason. As soon as Ran turned to him, Shinichi pulled her into a kiss.

Their hands were intertwined, just like when they were children. A small silk thread seemed to tickle their little fingers. It was getting hot in Shinichi's arms.

Sun went below the horizon. Soon they can observe the moon and the stars.

"Ran," Shinichi licked his lips. Whatever he said, he wanted more kisses. "We making stargazing our new tradition? If one of them falls…"

"What you going to wish?" Ran smiled. ‘For us to be close,’ flashed through her mind.

"We've already promised to be together forever," Shinichi's breath tickled his nose. He didn't believe in fate. Any fate, except his and Ran's. “Let's think about what else we can wish.”

"Hmm," it was hard to hide Ran’s red cheeks. As much as she denies it, Shinichi are pretty romantic. Probably too much. “We have a long night ahead... Let's think about it together!”

#dcmk #detco #shinichi kudo #ran mouri #detective conan #shinran #shinichi x ran #shinichi and ran #fanfiction #I used a translator often #I hope it's fine #funny that there are extra 242 words compared to the original for some reason

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fresne999 · 5 months

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For the Story is Long and Takes a Long Time

Every now and then I see a post float across my dash about younger folks (my lawn is a field of local plants and and drip watered, please enjoy) wanting an algorithm for AO3 or only wanting longer fic, or blah, blah. Not sure how much of that is pervasive and not folks grumping at the sky.

But this is the grumping at the sky site, so whatever.

Ever wondered what the labor involved in a long fic looks like? Wonder no longer, here's a line graph.

This represents the kind of sustained labor required to finish a maybe (I'm not done yet) 350k work.

It's not a single story. It's 18 stories from 18 POV that braid around similar (but not identical because people observe different things) events. It's OFMD modern AU.

Nothing is posted. I don't post unfinished stories. I learn too much while I write for that to ever work for me. Even if I have an outline.

Now you may wonder, how did I come up with graph? Probably not, but I'm going to explain anyway.

After working on and off on the project (the reason it doesn't start at zero) I decided to apply some techniques I use for project management. What I'm about to describe can be used for any type of complicated project.

Step 1

-Break the "project" down into milestones. 18 stories. I've also broken it down into 4 phases per story: 1) Write draft 1, 2) Edit, 3) Have you heard of 2nd edit? 4) Hopefully we're at Spag edit.

Step 2 -

Assign points to every milestone.

I use this sequence of #s*: 0, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34. Want to sound fancy. That's a Fibonacci Sequence. Now you know.

Using this numbering sequence keeps me from getting bogged down trying to decide if a big story is say 8 or 9 points if I were using a 1-10 sequence

The principle behind this kind of point assignment goes something like this. It's hard to look at Stede and know how tall he/the actor is. But if you look at Stede and Izzy standing together, I roughly know who is taller.

A - Or in this case, I guess the Stede story will be longer than Izzy's story. So Stede= 34, and Izzy=21.

B - Break down the phases of writing and assign them points.

3 Start writing. At the end of one week, figure out my points completed. Should be a % of the total possible points for that milestone/phase. My method involves a lot of formulas based on 20 years of project mangagement experience. You should just guess. Divide by 7. That's the "build" rate.

Divide the total number of points for the project by the build rate, that's the # of days it will probably take. That seem to long, establish an arbitrary date to finish and divide the number of points by that number of days and that's you're "Management Assigned an Arbitrary Date and I don't know if we can finish, but let's try" rate.

4 Keep writing and editing. Track as you go. Having a much smaller goal each day than "Finish it" to reach each day makes it easier to do. It's also easier than an arbitrary # of words a day, which, shrug, we're not Dickens. We're paid by the kudo, not the word.

Know how I know? I've been working on and off on this for 2 years. Here's what that (roughly) looks based on knowing how long I spent getting 4 of the stories thru writing and first edit by the time I got to March of this year. I file creation to last revision date, but not including the long periods in between writing, and knowing several times I had to remove huge amounts of writing. So, points went away. Sad sound.

That looks like this.

Brought to you by, I need to finish more points today, but am tired.

#ofmd #ofmd fanfic #fanfic #writing techniques #project mangement

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pluckysidekick · 1 year

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I’m finally ready to talk about The Maiden’s Rage - if you’re interested in an in depth analysis, I’m planning a series of posts as there’s just too many amazing scenes and too much to cover. I’ll be going into detail on the subtext of scenes, callbacks to earlier seasons, behind the scenes clues, and discussion of the more ‘uncomfy’ bits as well (I’ll preface with a trigger warning) as there is so much to unpack.

Starting with George - she and Leah had an absolutely stellar episode. Seeing George come into her own, her confidence in her abilities, her maturity in her relationship with Nick, her realization that her mentor had failed her, and then her determination to understand the mystery of the case and ultimately the town water supply, from beginning to end was breathtaking. Also, she looked amazing in every fit. Kudos to Leah and to the costume dept!

Speaking of kudos, the visuals in this whole episode are outstanding. Nancy and Ace, as George so astutely puts it, start out together but not too together, mirroring the tension between them as they navigate this next stage of their relationship. We left off Episode 1 where Ace ran to Icarus Hall (swoon), leading to Nancy finally confessing they’re cursed. We’ve jumped to the next day (presumably) and Nancy doesn’t want to risk telling Ace anything else, believing that it won’t make a difference, while Ace still wants to know everything (not the last time he says it).

Ace’s admitting he went to Bess for moral support is something we’ll see more of in the episode - it’s a good thing he has his Platanchor because he’s in for a rough ride. Nancy’s teary “You will die” reminds me of the S3 finale opening scene, “I won’t let him die.” In both cases she believes she’s doing the right thing - she’s already lost so many people she loves. The difference now is Ace is finally clued into what’s going on and doesn’t accept her keeping things from him.

Ace’s journey from the 213 Claw deck scene where Nancy successfully pushes him away, “Not my place to say,” and here, where he relentlessly pushes her for the truth, “What aren’t you telling me?” shows how far he’s come.

But Nancy continues to “make the call” and shut him out, not unlike S3’s Piper Beach episode when she overrides Bess’s opinion. Nancy’s tendency to dismiss the feelings and opinions of those closest to her when she’s under pressure is already in full force, well before the poisoned water begins to affect her behavior.

Ace’s expression reminds me of the Amanda breakup scene in 306 - the mixture of anger, frustration, and sadness about someone he loves is written all over his face.

As a break from the turmoil, I loved the introduction of Jade, and can’t wait to see how their and Nick’s relationship progresses. Nick and Bess have a rare but hilarious scene together, with a chance to gently poke fun at Nick’s (and Tunji’s) lack of social media savvy. I have to agree with George that he could lose the hat.

Back in the locker room, the fight continues with Ace getting increasingly angry that Nancy’s holding out on him, pleading for her to let him in because “I’m in this curse too,” while Nancy is “trying to be strong.” Oh, Nancy. Visually it evokes Nancy and Ace’s S1 fight in 107, this time with Ace coming down the stairs to confront Nancy instead of the other way around.

This feels like it could become a theme for them, with a struggle between Nancy’s desire to keep Ace safe at the cost of his autonomy. I’m glad they’re exploring this, even though it’s difficult to see them fight when all we want to do is bang them together like Barbies and make them kiss already.

With the entrance of Tristan, things get even more awkward, Ace furious but begrudgingly admiring Tristan’s ‘solid’ boat name, Jolene, the famous ‘other’ woman. Tristan (that hussy) flirts with Nancy shamelessly, but doesn’t know what to make of Ace’s instant classic line:

“I made it this morning.” 💀 I love him so much. Visually Tristan starts out in the middle (just like Ace between Nancy and her love interests in past seasons), but later the perspective changes with Ace in the middle and with his back to us. This foreshadowing of the inevitable love triangle is making me sad 😔 .

Back to the mystery, Nancy and Ace respond to George’s call for help to investigate Judge Abbott’s strange behavior before his heart attack. Nancy assures George “we’ll figure it out, that’s what we do.” Ace’s silent response is absolutely devastating. His expression and body language scream, “You’re willing to figure things out for George, why not for us?”

The supernatural poison is about to turn Nancy into Bro-Nancy, but I’m out of room and I have a lot more screencaps. This was literally just the first seven minutes (and I skipped Bess and Addy, but promise to come back to them).

I will probably not shut up about it every time I talk about this episode, but Alex is killing it in every scene, every shot. Kennedy’s incredible turn in this episode is epic, and I can’t wait to dig in next time. But this in many ways Ace’s episode - the range of emotion is so effectively portrayed, often purely with body language and facial expressions. Ace may not be the Maiden, but he has some serious but controlled rage (justified IMO) as he finally advocates for himself and the life he wants with Nancy.

‘Til next time, Drewds!

UPDATE: Part 2 and Part 3

#nancy drew #nancy drew cw #nace #ace [redacted]#ndcw #nancy drew season 4 #nancy drew s4 #nancy drew spoilers #leah lewis #alex saxon #maddison jaizani #tunji kasim #kennedy mcmann #ndcentral #nacesource

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tavyliasin · 9 months

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I love kudos emails. Usually it's just a few per day, but sometimes it looks like this and I sit here grinning to myself for a while~

Hello, Guest, I do hope you have enjoyed discovering my works~ you're very welcome to stick around, I'll have more for you soon, and this simple appreciation is a big part of what helps keep me going, driven to write more ♡

#fanfiction #fanfic writing #kudos #a kudos a day keeps the sadness away #insert appreciation receive creative works #it really is a bright part of the morning to read this #welcome and I hope I entertain you with my silly little words #writers and readers need each other in this ecosystem #I love all my readers #ok enough squishy...for now

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pinkykats-place · 1 year

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BakuDeku ft. Deku returns to UA // Post Dark Deku

AO3 Fanfic Recommendations

Disclaimers!

None of the stories linked on titles are mine.

Some contain mature content.

Read tags. Check ratings.

Art work not mine … by @luliadraws

Note: If you read any of these stories and like them please let the author know with a kudos and/or comment!

Do Not Disturb by surveycorpsjean

Summary: Apply enough force, and something is bound to break.

{One Shot}

Rated - Teen & Up

Deku's Response by Flipper96

Summary: Three days after Izuku returns to UA, he finally processes Kacchan's apology.

{One Shot}

Rated- Explicit

hold me till i feel better by leahistyping

Summary: Katsuki had never felt like this before.

So many emotions were swarming through his head at once. He felt anger, frustration, sadness, and especially longing.

He never knew it’d hurt so much to be so Izukuless. The damn nerd was always chasing after him, whether he wanted him to or not. But he was always there, even if Katsuki pushed him away again and again.

(or, after Izuku returns to UA, he gets a fever. but luckily for him, Katsuki’s there to help him).

{One Shot}

Rated - General Audiences

clutch by varooooom

Summary: Class A comes to the mutual agreement that someone should spend each night with Izuku for the time being. They start bidding for shifts and arguing over who should get to go when. It's - Izuku stays silent the whole time, trying not to cry as his friends compete with each other for the chance to take care of him. It's so silly and his heart feels so full.

They didn't ask for his protection. He didn't ask for theirs. But heroes save everyone, and right now -

Right now, they need all the help they can get. They're stronger together. Izuku understands that now.

{One Shot}

Rated - SFW

Where Are You (and I’m So Sorry) by @amarisllis

Summary: When Midoriya leaves, he writes a letter to everyone in class 1A. While he’s gone, Bakugou decides to write a letter of his own.

And when Deku gets back, he's shocked to stumble onto a few folded up pages containing Kacchan's messy handwriting.

Complete | 2 Chapters

Rated - Teen & Up

My eyes are damp from the words you left by ElStark

Summary: And in a last burst of strength Izuku managed to lift his arms and wrap them around Katsuki’s neck, “I love you,” he hadn’t written it in the letter, because he’d known Kacchan would rip it as soon as he’d read the words, but he’d thought about it since, how he hadn’t been able to let ‘I love you’ be the last words he told his childhood friend, the love of his life. “I love you so much, Kacchan, so much.”  “What’s going on?”  “I think he’s delirious from the pain, help me lift him up.”  Kacchan moved away, and someone made a sound that lifted the hair at the nape of his neck for how painfully heartbroken it sounded.  “Fuck, I’m here, I’m here.” Kacchan was immediately back at his side. “what the fuck, Deku,” he whispered, shaky, holding onto Izuku tighter.  Only then did Izuku realize, the sound had come from him. “Kacchan, I love you.”  “Stop that,” Kacchan snapped, “Stop making it sound like goodbye, you piece of shit.” 

Izuku laughed. Or maybe he cried harder, he wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

{One Shot}

Rated - Teen & Up

Soft. So soft. byThatCrazyFangir1

Summary: Katsuki and Izuku take some time for themselves after Izuku is brought back to U.A. Izuku rests in his room, and Katsuki keeps him company. They share a bed and their feelings.

{One Shot}

Rated - Teen & Up

April Showers by bkdkforthebirds

Summary: He left in April.

Left with nothing but a note and the ghost of his presence in the pouring rain.

Katsuki should’ve seen it coming after everything that happened with the league and Shigaraki. It was the obvious next move to the nerd, but…

But at what cost?

{One Shot}

Rated - General Audiences

my deku, my izuku by hirakagi

Summary: After Katsuki almost lost Izuku for good during the war, he knew he needed to tell him the truth the next chance he got. He was given a taste of what it would’ve been like to never get to, and he wasn’t going to let it happen. Izuku had to know. And now he did.

But where did it leave them?

{One Shot}

Rated - Teen & Up

Together by @silverynight

Summary: "If you think I'll let you leave me again, you're completely mistaken, Izuku," Katsuki growls, grip tightening around his waist.

Confusion hits him for a moment and it only grows when Katsuki starts wiping away his tears with his thumb.

"It's not that... I mean I left the UA, I didn't... It wasn't you specifically... I–"

"You left me," Katsuki narrows his eyes again. "Because it's different between us; I know I screwed up our relationship many times, but we are different. Our connection is different."

{One Shot}

Rated - Teen & Up

With you close, I can sleep by Sewo

Summary: It had been such a long time since he slept. Every night after the green haired boy left, his thoughts just wouldn’t shut up and let his mind rest. Closing his eyes didn’t help when all he could think about was Deku and his letter.

And now the nerd had the fucking audacity to sleep right there in front of him, with his muscles relaxed, his mouth slightly agape, when Katsuki, now the stress of bringing him back gone, had barely the energy to stand up.

— — —

AKA: Two boys with issues have trouble sleeping and find comfort in each other.

{One Shot}

Rated - General Audiences

i'll catch you when nobody else will. by yourmomcalled00

Summary: Izuku has an identity crisis in his time as a vigilante. After Katsuki's apology he goes back to UA. Where the only way he can function is if he can see Katsuki's alive. Touch him, or hold him.

When he finally decides to leave again, Katsuki is there to stop him.

***

'Because Deku was his. Losing him was not something that Katsuki wanted to repeat.

Ever again.'

Complete | 2 Chapters

Rated - Explicit

no one can hurt you now by brainrotprofessional

Summary: "Relax." Katsuki gruffs, when Izuku's muscles stay locked up. Then, quieter, "you're safe now."

He whispers the words into Izuku's hair, breathing in the scent of shampoo tinged with rain. Katsuki's only answer is tears finally soaking his t-shirt as Izuku cries soundlessly, ever altruistic even in his sorrow.

Stupid nerd. Katsuki would do anything for him.

— — —

Or, the fic where post-vigilante Izuku needs a hug, and he gets one. (from Katsuki).

{One Shot}

Rated - Teen & Up

The Unattended Moment by bigcatsmallcat

Summary: Maybe all he needs is a night of respite from the chaos brewing all around the confines of UA. Knowing his family and friends and most civilians are accounted for. A comfy bed with clean-smelling sheets. His favourite person in the entire world right next to him, where nothing and no one can hurt them.

{One Shot}

Rated - General Audiences

Paragon by usunee

Summary: Deku smiled and glanced up at him. His fingers crept up and toyed with the hem of the Katsuki's shirt. “Why — well, why were you sleeping next to me, Kacchan?” Deku asked, staring holes into the shirt. His fingers found a stray thread and began picking at it.

Katsuki’s heart started thundering suddenly and he was very thankful it was still dark, though he wondered if Deku could feel the heat radiating from his face. He wasn’t even sure why he felt flustered, only that his useless brain couldn’t provide an answer that wasn’t completely humiliating.

— — —

Or, the night that Deku returned to UA and, for reasons even he didn’t know, Katsuki took it upon himself to take care of him.

{One Shot}

Rated - Teen & Up

A Helping Hand by shalia_earante

Summary: Post Chapter 327

Katsuki and Izuku are left alone in the bath after everyone brings him back to UA. Katsuki notices Izuku favoring a sore shoulder so his innocent offer of a helping massage becomes not so innocent...

{One Shot}

Rated - Explicit

unstoppable forces by darkwingsandmages

Summary: There's a fine line between genius and insanity. And right now, All Might is using that line as a goddamn jump rope.

— — —

or, Izuku needs to rest while on the run from All for One, and Search only works on humans...

Complete | 6 Chapters

Rated - Teen & Up

I Never Knew Daylight Could Be So Violent by ElStark

Summary: “My body is doing this on its own!”

Hands reached for him, yanked his mask off, scratched at his face, pulled at his hair until chunks came off.

“I’m sorry!” they were crying.

“It’s okay,” Deku said, letting himself be taken under. “I know it’s not your fault.”

And then.

Like a meteorite streaking the sky in red and orange, like a secret wish come true, Kacchan was there.

Deku felt his eyes widen as he took in the golden brightness his childhood friend was bathed in, like he held the purest form of sunshine beneath his very skin.

{One Shot}

Rated - Teen & Up

At Least for Tonight by Anon_nym

Summary: After returning to UA after being a vigilante for weeks, Izuku feels out of place.

Katsuki notices.

One Shot | NSFW

Protective Bakugo by Kaiswan

Summary: After Class 1-A finally convinces Izuku to come back to UA after trying to defeat the League of Villians without their help, there is a noticeable change in Bakugo. Everyone is able to figure out why, except Izuku.

One Shot | NSFW

midnight coward by manegul

Summary: Izuku flinches. “I made everyone worry again, didn’t I?” He sounds exhausted, self-deprecatingly curling in on himself.

Katsuki sighs. “Everyone cares about you, a lot, okay? Don’t— don’t treat it as something that burdens them.”

He knows, because he’s had to break down the hardness and walls around him, to realize that others weren’t looking down on him, but rather, looking out for him.

Izuku’s shoulders slump at his words, as if it was all he needed to hear, and he turns towards Katsuki, and says, “I had a bad dream.”

One Shot | SFW

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thequeenofthewinter · 1 year

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In the Midst of Winter has turned two.

Actually, it's my "writer-versary" in general. I hadn't written anything before this. (I didn't start posting until a few weeks later, but today's the day I started tapping away at those keys.)

730 days. 253,968 words. And well, now we're working on a sequel.

Two years ago, I opened up a Word document, and I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. Still don't quite know what I am doing if I am honest with myself, but in that time there have been a few things which I have discovered for myself. Idk, I am feeling cute, and I thought maybe I would share some of those thoughts here. There's nothing mind bending or earth shattering here. I'm just a girl with a keyboard who writes fanfiction.

In the time since I started writing, there are a lot of things which I have learned and even more which I will continue to learn in the future. The most important of these things is: you write for yourself and you write to have fun. If you are having fun and if writing makes you happy, that is the only thing which is important. Yes, yes. I know, I know. Comments and kudos are nice. I like them too, but they are not what keeps you going, not truly anyway. It's a love of a story, a love of your craft and what you're doing, and the joy you get from creating. Yes, but Winter, lack of engagement is a writer killer. I hear you, friend. I see you. I am also you. I do not deny that a lack of engagement can definitely feel demotivating. I'd be lying if I didn't say that sometimes I feel a wee bit sad when I see my story just kind of sits there. But it's more than that. The comments, no matter how nice they are, will not keep you going when you have no love of what you're doing and your heart isn't truly in it. (There. I said it.)

We make fanfiction because we love something so much that it moves us to words, and taking the spirit and soul out of it and turning it into a comment machine, won't keep you afloat forever. Nor will it give you quality writing.

Conversely, something else which I learned is that negative comments can go straight into the TRASH where they belong. You cannot please everyone, and there will always be someone who doesn't like your writing. Haters are going to hate, and if they don't like what you're writing, that does not mean anything is wrong with it. All writing is good writing, and there are many different styles. More than that, we improve over time. It's what all the writing blogs say, but it's true. I'd invite you right now to go look at my first posted chapter and then read the last one. There is a difference. If you're new out there, keep writing. Keep creating.

The last thing which I'd like to share is that community makes a huge difference. When I first started writing, it was me, myself, and I, and I know I have said this before, but was scared shitless to post anything at first. I was also (still am at times) a little nervous to interact with others because of what I write. However, I did it anyway, and I am so grateful. I posted my story, and eventually, I did join Tumblr. People found me, and I found people. Don't be afraid to reach out. (Be cautious, as always. This is the Internet, after all.) Find some people whose writing/art you like and reblog it, leave some notes, or comment on it. You'd be surprised about what turns up.

Most people I have interacted with here have been lovely and beautiful human beings and have been nothing but encouraging. They've both keyboard smashed with me in the good times and helped push me along the way when I have been in a rut. They've helped fuel me and supported me and if it weren't for them, who knows where I'd be now.

...And well, if you get a negative response...they weren't really worth talking to to begin with. (If you're looking for someone to talk to, here I am. Hi, I am Winter. It's nice to meet you.)

#how writing a fic works #winter rambles #it's my writer birthday #should I get cake?

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transboysokka · 11 months

Note

This is a big ask so don't feel like you have to, but would you be interested in pitching some summaries of the fics you have up on Ao3? I know there are summaries up there, but I like the casual way you have with words and you say fuck a lot and I dunno yeah

omg this is so funny bc i know the exact way with words you're talking about and of course im not gonna pass up a chance to promote my own work hehe YOU GOT IT!

i have 20 atla fics so I'm going to recommend them in order of... least to most kudos??? to try to trick people into reading more of my stuff? lol idk

I'm 99% sure all of these are Zukka fics...

The Last Five Years - ok actually this is a bad place to start bc i don't think im gonna finish it. it just really didn't take off but um its a The Last Five Years AU with really fucking sad Divorced Zukka

Do Not Stand At My Grave and Cry - this is i think my newest one, it has trans zukka and it's a bit angsty with a fake death but i also think it's kind of fun. it's the idea trans people have of ''who's going to care if my family puts the wrong name on my gravestone?" but there IS a happy ending

A Problem Halved is a Problem Shared - im gonna be honest i dont fucking remember writing this one lol but it says dialogue-only and it WILL be angsty bc it is about zuko and sokka dealing with different issues they have

One Last Time (and its sequel The End of All Things) - Actually OLT is definitely one of my faves I ever wrote. It's my canon-compliant take on um... *cough* Sokka's death, referenced in Korra. It's SO angsty but it has one of the most visceral scenes I've ever written and I DID cry writing this. TEoAT is the happy ending Divorced Zukka deserved with bonus Iroh but you WILL cry reading that too. BUT i cant fucking recommend these ones enough!!!!

If I fade away (the awful things we do to make the head go quiet) - VERY dead dove. trans zuko needs to pay a MASSIVE price to get home to the Fire Nation after Ba Sing Se, and it's not his choice at all. I love this but READ WITH CAUTION

In Which Sokka is Supportive Ally Boyfriend Goals - I am dead serious i like dont remember this one at all but i know it has trans zuko!

Nourishing the Flame Within - not the best written tbhtbh BUT it does have two very important Zukos in it that I hold to be universally true: trans zuko and eating disorder zuko

bad idea right? - okay this is DEF one of my faves lol its about divorced zukka but they just cant stop messing things up and sleeping with each other even though theyre not together anymore lolol

Keeping it in the Family - lmao OKAY SO this is the ONE version of zukka that im like 'ok all u z*tara folks, maybe zuko WAS with her and it obvs didnt work' and then he hooks up with sokka instead and its GREAT but oops now we have Family Drama

Scars of Trust - bro im not gonna like i barely remember writing this one but i remember I LOVE IT and it's about sokka who has been dating zuko a while but he finally learns that zuko is trans? its great

Playing the Long Game - eh, i don't love it, but I'd say it's worth a read. it was my first longer fic in the fandom. it DOES have a great Zukki evolution though if you're into that, and a nice mystery!! Also some whump and angst bc of course

Keeping Score - I liked this one! It's just little snippets of times Sokka has survived assassination attempts, because we always hear about it happening to Zuko, but Sokka gets them too. Angst obviously

It Was Cruel and It Was Wrong - wow, a dead dove fic, yes. It's basically like "If I'm Joo Lee and you're Joo Lee, then who's flying the bison?" Yeah so Sokka and Zuko are both brainwashed by the Dai Lee and Suffering but be careful because this gets DARK

Mother - Izumi has two dads but she feels bad she doesn't have a mom. But guess what, her dads don't have moms either!! She's very happy to find that out! Wow Izumi, way to have some sympathy.

Impact - It's about Zuko taking a longer time to recover from an assassination attempt than he'd want, and Sokka being loving and patient with him! I wrote this when I had a bad concussion for like three weeks and so it's pretty like. Medically accurate lol

Scratchy - Short and sweet. I don't remember this one much but I know that it is fluffy and involves turtle ducks!

Hidden Pain, Shared Love - Another short and fluffy one. It's about the first time Zuko sees that Sokka has problems with his leg sometimes?

Zuko and Sokka Get Engaged in the Most Zukka Way Possible - okay i actually really love this one because it's on brand and cute and also i made it fucking angsty because oF COURSE

Zuko Amongst the Dragons - yes so what if zuko was raised by dragons and met the gaang but he was super feral? and what if shenanigans ensued? AND what if sokka and zuko fell in love anyway????

#quesTian #Anonymous #fic #fic recs #atla #zukka #divorced zukka #trans zuko #trans zukka

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grapehyasynth · 4 months

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20 Questions for Fic Writers

I was tagged by @lollygirlpops thank you!!

How many works do you have on Ao3? 126

What's your total Ao3 word count? 962,860

What fandoms do you write for? Currently, Young Royals

Top five fics by kudos:

Red White and Blue Jays

Agents of Shield drabbles

obviously

now you see me

your mother should know

Do you respond to comments? I do!! It usually takes me a bit because I have a system... When I am cleaning out my personal email inbox, which I do approximately every three days, I also respond to up to 5 AO3 comments. If you're concerned about my system, so am I. But it works. But I loooooove comments and I love responding to them and I love getting responses when I comment on others' works!

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I had to go poking around because I definitely avoid angsty endings, but it would be my little Schitt's Creek fic the ex.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? all of them? 😂😂😂

Do you get hate on fics? not outright hate per se - i've gotten some kind of condescending or disappointed comments, and sometimes people leave rude stuff on their bookmarks (....truly, why??).

Do you write smut? i do, though it usually takes me some getting used to with a new otp.

Craziest crossover - I haven't done crossovers I don't think, but I do lots of aus combining fictional worlds, like young royals and normal people or rwrb and schitts creek. but only one set of characters, if that makes sense.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Kind of - there was someone who took chunks from my fic and someone else's fic, allegedly thinking it was okay to build their own fic around it. Not sure if it was an honest mistake or not.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes, but not in a long time!

All time favourite ship? I don't think I can possibly choose hahaa. Wilmon are my current ship so that's where the feeling is strongest, but each OTP has held such a special place in my heart and life.

What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I started drafting a Wilmon Step Up AU that I think would be fire... I also started writing a Felice and Simon besties fic that I'm sad I no longer feel like writing.

What are your writing strengths? I think/hope I can really put the reader into what the character is feeling and thinking, really immerse them that way.

What are your writing weaknesses? I'm impatient! I hate editing, I hate sitting with a story, I'd rather write it all in one go and post it right away.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language? I think it's all about context. Why is it in another language - what is that meant to convey? Is one of the characters left out? Is it showing an intimacy between other characters? Is it an emotional outlet for a character? Is it supposed to keep the reader from understanding?

First fandom you wrote in? Harry Potter (Harry/Ginny)

Favourite fic you've written? Oh lord. You're asking me to choose between my children?!?! It might be recency bias but I'll say obviously.

I think many people have done this already, but I'll tag some folks: @bigalockwood @skibasyndrome @earlgrey-lateatnight @petrodobreva @wordthieve

7 notes · View notes

toxicanonymity · 2 years

Text

The Dark Path (Rock bottom Ch 4)

6k | Corey x Michael, Michael x Reader. NSFW

Something for everyone! Pt. 1: Beefcake Corey pumps iron. Pt. 2: Corey & Michael kill Mulaney. Michael on Corey. Pt. 3: Michael fucks (Y/N). Corey can't contain himself.

Rock Bottom Index - All Chapters

If you don't want gifs, you might wanna read on AO3. Throw me kudos for being a slut while you're at it & subscribe to get the next chapter a lil early.

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Ch 4 Part 1

Outside (Y/N)’s house, Corey walks around to the backyard. He bends down to pick up his heavy wrench from the dying grass. The cold metal slides and clinks into place as he moves. He imagines what it would have been like to kill the sad sack if Michael hadn't gotten to him first.

He goes to collect his backpack and sees a shape in the woods. His heart skips a beat. It feels like Michael is close. The shape walks in the opposite direction.

Corey gets on his motorcycle. His huge hands make it look like a toy bike from certain angles. He cranks the gas with a twist of his thick wrist. It’s a cold ride, and his large knuckles turn red and white.

Instead of going home, he rides to the Allen family’s abandoned mansion. He keeps some things hidden there for whenever he needs to get away from Joan. He puts on clean underclothes and takes a nap before work.

His day goes by in a haze of want. His clothes are clean, but he can still feel the essence of Michael and (Y/N) enrobing his cock.

At work, he's distracted and lets the hood of a Buick slam on his masculine hand. It doesn’t hurt, but the shock of it makes him yell. Ronald is worried about him - he's barely been coming home lately.

Corey is assigned scrap duty for the rest of the day. He heads behind the shop to their secondary scrapyard with a clipboard. He trudges through a sea of cars, most of them with no tires, parked on white granite rocks that gleam and blind him and crunch under his boots. Hoods are open, doors are off. A lot of models are from the 90s or 00s but some are older. He updates the part inventory as he walks. It’s boring.

Corey prefers challenging manual labor to tedious paperwork. Being a mechanic lets him use his engineering knowledge and curiosity while getting to touch and explore and fix things. He’s very good with his hands, and his hands are made for the job.

Doing inventory is mind-numbing. He has too much pent up energy and has to pass the time. At the back of the scrapyard, there's a bumper leaning against a 90s Saturn. He puts his clipboard down on the seat of a picnic table in the shade and takes his sleeves off, tying them around his waist. His nipples say it's too cold for this, but he doesn't feel it.

He hauls the bumper on his sculpted shoulder with one massive hand bracing it. He mounts the table, ass-first and his thighs and groin press up into the fabric of his jumpsuit as he scoots back and stretches out into place. He lays back and rests the car part on his sturdy chest. He spreads his thick fingers to get a good grip, then bench presses it.

His stamina is impressive and it takes a minute to even feel the burn. It starts in his hard pecs and spreads to his thick arms. As the bumper grows heavier, he breathes harder, winces, and his feet start to move. His white undershirt rides up and he can feel the air on his lower abs and V. He pauses at the top to steady his arms and breathe, his cheeks puffing out with air. He does a few more reps and discards the bumper.

His biceps bulge out of his white sleeves. The sleeves have ridden up to show his paler skin. He takes a rest then grabs a tire. The veins in his hands pump.

He firmly plants his feet in the gravel and sticks his glutes out for proper form. He holds the tire in front, bracing it with his large hands on each side, his hard triceps flexing. His empty jumpsuit sleeves loosen around his hips as he squats, but the pants are held up by his ass. His quads burn as he digs his boots into ground for leverage and continues squatting.

From the shop, he hears, "Corey! Lunch is here!" He sets down the tire with a thud and lets it roll away. It comes to rest against a Ford Bronco.

Corey pulls on his sleeves and goes to the office. He devours a footlong meatball sub, holding it with both hands, bracing his elbows on the break room table, his forearms flexing, mouth full, jaw and Adam's Apple moving with each bite.

He spends the rest of his break in the garage. He sits with his big legs spread, an elbow braced against his knee and curls a heavy tool box with just three fingers because the handle isn't big enough. He squints with every bulge of his bicep as he pumps, until he realizes his glasses are fogged and his armpits are damp all the way down the sides of his jumpsuit.

After lunch, at the back of the scrapyard, he does lunges, holding a tire. He lunge-walks down a row of cars, turns the corner and comes back through another row. His jumpsuit strains at the seat each time he comes down. He keeps going until he feels his lower back sticking to his jumpsuit with cold sweat, potentially drawing attention to his prominent glutes.

His face is hot. His curls are damp and matted to his forehead. A bead of sweat rolls down his thick, tan neck. He catches his breath and picks up the clipboard again.

After work, Corey goes home and instantly regrets it. A few days ago when he didn't come home, Joan was beside herself. This time, she's unhinged. Her northern accent intensifies into a monologue that doesn't end until Corey leaves.

"Who's been taking advantage of my baby boy?! Who?! I can smell her on you, Corey. She doesn't love you! You know none of them care about you, Corey. You're handsome. You're sensitive. They should be so lucky. Your mother loves you, Corey! Come home to your mother! What's happening to my baby boy?!"

His deep, gruff voice interrupts her painful whine. "I'M FINE, MA," is all he says.

"OH MY GOD, COREY, YOUR NECK!"

Corey opens the fridge.

"OH, COREY, I'm so sorry. Let me go buy you some chocolate milk! I’ll be right back, you stay right here." She grabs her wallet and nods to herself like that’s going to fix everything. Then she remembers, "Oh, you know what? Do you want some custard? There's some custard in the fridge!" She puts her arms on his hulking back and arms.

So now boys who keep secrets get custard. Too little too late. “No thanks, Ma.” She grabs her keys off the wall, distressed.

Corey goes upstairs to wash. He plugs the drain and turns on the water. He looks in the mirror as the bath fills. His jumpsuit hugs his broad shoulders and chest. He peels it off, followed by his soaked undershirt. His muscles are still pumped up. His neck is still red from Michael choking him.

His large fingers graze the marks on his neck. It turns him on, but he's saving himself, and he can't relax with Joan like this. (Y/N) hadn't even mentioned his neck. She must have known. His eyes well up as her essence fades away in the bath. Being inside her felt like being sucked by an angel. They’ve barely explored each other. The things they could do.

When Corey pulls the plug to drain the bath, Joan yells right outside the door, "COREY?! Are you alright?!"

“I’M FINE, MA,” he says again. He changes into jeans and a button-up shirt. The stairs rumble as he lets his weight carry him down.

"I've gotta go, Ma." Joan grabs him and forcefully kisses him on the lips as he leaves. It's like she's afraid it's the last time she'll see him. Maybe it will be, he thinks.

Corey picks Allyson up on his motorcycle. Her small arms wrap around his ample torso. Part of him would rather feel Michael’s bulky arms, just to know what it’s like to feel small.

Corey didn’t have a dad growing up. By the time Joan met Ronald, Corey was becoming a man. It was all handshakes and pats on the back, an occasional brief hug if he needed one. He’s never known the true embrace of a man’s strong arms.

Being close to Allyson reminds Corey of what he likes so much about her. She has the energy of someone who has lived through hell. She's experienced Michael Myers in spree killer mode. It's clear she came away changed in some way. She must have a dark streak, Corey knows it. He just has to tease it out. The tinder is there. He just needs to light the match.

Allyson's arms feel good around him. He wants to have her as his own, but he also wants to feel understood. It’s not possible for Allyson to understand him the way (Y/N) does. The way he thinks Michael might. If Corey can tempt Allyson onto the dark path, she’ll understand. Then he can have it both ways - someone of his own, and someone who understands.

He longs to bring Allyson over, but the notion also feels dangerous for Michael, and therefore Corey, thanks to Laurie Strode. Laurie is Michael's most dangerous predator.

At the diner, Corey pretends to study the menu, but he always gets a cheeseburger and a chocolate milkshake. What he's really doing is weighing his options with Allyson.

Aside from the threat of Laurie, monogamy is Corey's other point of hesitation. He assumes Allyson would expect it. A few days ago, he would have expected it. He would have embraced it, loved it. It was his natural inclination. But now, he doesn't know if he can help himself.

It's not just Michael that he wants to stay open to. The idea of not being with (Y/N) again is physically painful. He's thinking about her more than he expected. Corey still wants Michael to own him – if that's what it takes. But Corey loves pussy, too. Why can't he have it all?

Corey wasn’t like this before, or if he was, he didn’t realize it. He certainly didn’t act on it. This uninhibited appetite all started with Michael's hands around his neck.

When Corey first met (Y/N) in 2019, that was almost a year after the botched transfer from Smith’s Grove, so she already knew Michael. Michael already knew her. For all Corey knows, she was a choir girl before Michael let her survive.

Corey decides he'll give Allyson a tour of the dark path, and whether she stays on it is up to her. He starts by baring his soul as they eat. He shares enough of his darkness to intrigue her and be truly vulnerable. His dark eyes fill with genuine tears.

He devours his burger, grease dripping down both of his strong, sculpted hands. He listens to Allyson, and she seems to feel the same. He sinks his teeth into the despair that underpins her story. Haddonfield has chewed them up and spit them out. As he slurps the last of his chocolate milkshake, things seem to be coming together.

They each have their own reasons, but it seems like he and Allyson want the same thing, in principle: to burn it all down. Destroy the town that destroyed them. She may not realize what this looks like to Corey, but it’ll come with time. He’ll make a bad girl out of her.

When Doug Mulaney tries to start some shit at the diner, Corey knows what he has to do, but he’s tempted to take him on man-to-man right there.

Corey’s always been equipped to handle himself, but there was a terrible irony. Before the accident, he never really needed to defend himself. Afterwards, he did, but he couldn’t risk appearing aggressive or even capable of harm.

Post-accident, he would cower all the time, and when he got bullied or roughed up, he’d take it like a punching bag. He was afraid of hurting anyone. It would feel bad and also be the talk of the town. Things would get even worse for him.

Physically though, he was always more than capable. God gave him a sturdy frame, and on top of that, he works out.

For as long as he can remember, he's been starting his morning with push-ups just to feel the burn in his pecs, then he flips over and brings his fingers to his curly hair and does crunches.

He has a pull-up bar on his bedroom door. He can watch an entire episode of the Regular Show while doing pull-ups and chin-ups. He doesn’t even keep count.

He likes to feel his shoulders and triceps harden; his biceps and forearms bulge. He bends his knees and crosses his ankles behind himself to fit in the door frame. Then, for a different burn in his ample thighs, he brings his legs in front.

He spends his downtime working out, and sometimes he doesn't even realize he's doing it. It feels good and it's an escape.

Doug Mulaney, on the other hand, looks like he probably sits in his patrol car all day. While Mulaney is eating donuts and writing tickets, Corey spends his work day lifting heavy objects and using industrial sized tools. His hands and arms are so powerful that he can lift a tire overhand, palm-down, like a tote bag. Doug needs a gun to protect himself. Pussy.

Corey could absolutely take Doug Mulaney one-on-one, but he has to resist. He’s been looking for prey to bring Michael, and he found it.

He drops Allyson off at home. They share a steamy kiss that makes Corey hard. She’s obviously keen to get him into bed, but Corey is too focused. Another dose of the warm and fuzzy hormones will help bring her over where she needs to be, but not right now.

Ch 4 Part 2

Mulaney makes it too easy by tailing Corey on his way home. It will take no effort at all to bait him into the lair. At the very least, Corey will get to watch Michael even closer. If Corey is really lucky, maybe he'll get the (Y/N) treatment - pinned to the wall by Michael's most precious weapon.

Corey is still trying to wrap his head around Michael as a sexual entity. If the kill is what turns him on, Corey needs to be the closest person in vicinity when he kills. He parks his bike under the overpass.

Corey baits Mulaney through the encampment and toward the drain and visualizes what the kill will be like. He reflects on Michael’s last kill - the one he witnessed - and realizes Michael never even stabbed the guy. It was boss the way he strangled him with the floor lamp, but when he finished him off from arm’s length with a single slash, Michael almost looked bored.

Watching Michael kill was exhilarating, but watching him really come to life and stab someone, blood splattering on Corey’s neck – the thought of it hardens him more. With Corey bringing the prey, surely Michael will let him participate in the kill.

Mulaney follows Corey through the sewer, into the cavern, searching with his flashlight and taunting Corey out loud. The bright light lands on devious Corey.

Michael emerges from the shadows but doesn’t pounce. He looks feeble, almost confused, like Corey is interrupting his nap. Or maybe, he's letting Corey take the lead.

Corey has never felt so alive as he prepares to slash with Michael. He weakens and disorients Mulaney, incurring only a bloody nose and mouth in the process. He’s tempted to go all-in, but it's Michael’s turn. Michael moves slowly. Corey can’t wait to see him work.

Michael’s shrunken posture makes Corey look even larger. He urges, "Get up, get up, GET UP!" Michael pulls a rusted knife from the wall and Corey's body tingles with anticipation from his nipples to his groin. "Show me how," he says. "I need you to show me!" There are so many things he wants Michael to show him.

Michael swings. Mulaney stumbles back against Corey's broad chest. They fall to the ground, Mulaney’s weight spread across Corey’s sturdy body. Michael lunges toward them. Corey curls his big arms under Mulaney's, which are thin in comparison. He braces for impact, breathing heavily as he watches the Shape’s every move.

Michael wields the old rusted knife like a dagger. He raises the blade then plunges it into Mulaney's chest. Corey feels the tense body relax into dead weight in his arms. Corey breathes heavily and rapidly, spellbound. He doesn't take his eyes off Michael as the blood drains from their prey. Michael yanks out the knife, splattering blood across Corey's face. His arousal swells.

Something comes over Michael. He tenses and adjusts his grip on the knife. The black holes of the mask seem to look into Corey like the first time they met. Corey understands.

He braces Mulaney against his chest, and Michael thrusts the blade into him again. And again. Corey's eyes follow the blade. He savors the vantage point of Michael shafting into him. It has the same energy as Michael’s final thrusts into (Y/N). Every time Michael plunges the blade into Mulaney, Corey's solar plexus shoots rays of pleasure into his whole body. He could not imagine a more erotic experience.

Michael takes one step back and slowly stands up straight. Corey lets go of Mulaney and the dead weight slumps to the ground. Corey's jeans tighten with desire. His ass tingles. His chest heaves and he wipes saliva and blood from the corners of his mouth as he watches Michael. Corey's cock is throbbing.

Michael rolls his shoulders back and seems to reach an even darker frequency. Corey's eyes gravitate to Michael's crotch, which appears to bulge, just as Corey expected. It's not just his crotch, though. His muscles appear to pump, too.

Michael's arms and shoulders flex and he begins to quiver with energy. The tired old man from moments ago is a distant memory. Corey takes in Michael's entire form. His sculpted arms are visible through his sleeves. The stabbing has reanimated his truest self.

Corey aches to be filled. There's a space deep in his core that can only be filled by Michael. He flattens his massive hand against his clothed erection and winces while he waits for Michael's next move. The base of his shaft contracts and a wave of pleasure blooms deep in his core. He's afraid he might come in his pants, but he's not ready.

The last time Corey was in the sewer, the mask penetrated his eyes. Michael injected something intangible and indescribable into him that day. Corey, who was on the verge of disappearing, was transformed instead. Now he’s dying for Michael to penetrate him deeper. Turn him darker, freer. He can almost feel it happening.

Michael turns his head slightly. The fingers of his free hand twitch. Corey tries not to take his eyes off Michael as he begins to unfasten his own belt, thrusting into his own wide wrist as he does it. He's so hard.

Michael steps closer. His breath is loud behind the mask. He raises the knife. Corey reflexively scrambles to his feet and backs away until his back is flat against the wall. His unbuttoned jeans are held up only by the excruciating swell in his briefs. Michael raises the knife to Corey's sculpted throat and closes the distance between them.

Michael presses the side of the cold metal blade against Corey's thick neck, from his Adam's Apple to his jaw. It’s angled upward, with Michael’s large, leathered hand near Corey’s ear. The blade follows the hickey-like bruises from Michael's fingers. Michael takes a final step, and his foot is between Corey's feet.

Michael's sturdy thigh presses into Corey’s rock-hard, pulsating arousal. Corey can't help but thrust against him. Michael presses the knife harder against Corey’s throat, making him cough.

Corey feels something move against the bottom right edge of his abs. He's overcome with arousal to realize it’s Michael's cock, straining the leg of his jumpsuit, spanning from Corey’s lower abs to his thigh. It's thick and hard, like a warm lead pipe. Corey thrusts his aching bulge into Michael's thigh and Michael further presses the blade.

Corey feels a sharp pang of pleasure in his taint. He dares to grind his hip into Michael's engorged length, but Michael presses his own hip swiftly and firmly against Corey so he can no longer move. Corey is aching for relief. If he hadn't come so much in the past day or so, he's certain the sight of Michael's bulging jumpsuit would have made him come already.

Michael shows no signs of wanting his own release. Maybe it’s true what she said, that Michael loves pussy, but that doesn’t mean anything, because so does Corey. And what’s more, here’s Michael pressing an enormous erection into Corey’s body.

Corey tries again to press his body into Michael’s arousal. He wants to feel its warmth, feel it move. Michael’s hardness grows and his body stiffens further. Corey tilts his pelvis in a few small pulses to create friction and stimulate himself. His pre-cum soaks through Michael's jumpsuit.

A car horn blares outside. Michael looks down and away then relaxes the knife slightly, but keeps it against Corey’s skin. With the knife relaxed, Corey gasps and catches his breath.

Michael steps back, separating his jumpsuit from Corey's jeans and observes the wet spots on both of them. Then Michael looks away slightly. Something is distracting him. He sniffs the air.

Dread sets in. What was Corey thinking? Michael let him live and was letting him get close. He trusted Corey, and Corey betrayed him. He must know it. Michael growls almost imperceptibly, as though in agreement, and steps back into him.

Corey feels the blade of the knife rotate and dig in beneath his jaw. Michael could kill him with the flick of his wrist, but he holds it steady. Then, the sharp blade begins to drag slowly, very slowly, but lightly, along Corey's jaw. Corey feels a hot, thin line of blood separate into multiple narrow streams and stream down his neck. This is real.

Corey pleads "no, no, no, not yet" and grinds into Michael’s hard-on as though to show what he can offer. He wants to become one with Michael before he dies.

Michael pauses.

A knock on the drain pipe echoes through the cavern. Michael jerks the blade, slicing Corey's neck as he flings the knife across the cave. Blood oozes out of the slit. It's more than a trickle but doesn't gush. It missed the jugular.

(Y/N)’s voice echoes through the drain pipe. “Are you in there?”

Michael releases him. Without looking back, Michael walks with a purposeful, upright stride to the drainage pipe, then drops to his knees and gets in. It’s the first time he’s seen Michael on his knees, which does something to him. Michael’s lumberjack body fills the drain more than Corey’s, despite Corey’s broad, muscular stature.

Corey suddenly feels cold and unclothed without Michael against him. He listens to the echo of huge, heavy knees on the metal as Michael exits the drain.

Ch 4 Part 3

Rather than follow Michael out of the drain, Corey quickly fastens his belt and tiptoes across the cavern. He hides in a crevasse. Water plinks down from the ceiling. His hard-on is still raging. He’s so high on the kill that he wonders if he’s dead. He can’t believe how well this night has gone, even with blood running down his neck.

Corey killed with Michael. He awakened a higher energy in Michael. It’s nothing compared to the transformation Michael gave Corey, but returning the favor to some small degree makes Corey feel even closer to Michael. Michael not only choked him tonight, but sliced him. Then, astoundingly, pressed his warm, lethal cock against his body.

Corey was lucky. Michael may not have sensed his betrayal after all. The sense of relief dissuades him from pressing his luck any further tonight. He shouldn’t have gotten greedy. He can always see if things escalate next time. Before things go south, he needs to leave.

Corey can’t exit through the main pipe or he might run into them. He doesn’t know what (Y/N) would do or say. He’s almost more afraid of her reaction than Michael’s. If she can’t play it cool, Michael will know.

Corey surveys the dark cave for any sign of another exit and makes his way down the main hall, pressing his wrist against his zipper against his aching want. He considers stopping to jerk off but doesn’t.

He walks quietly but briskly to the end of the cave. He approaches the area with Mulaney on the ground. It looks like a dead end, but once he’s all the way at the wall, a very faint, dusty beam of light catches his eye to the right. He goes through the crevasse with the soft blue light, and sees that it’s a grate up above, not an exit.

Moonlight shines down through the squares above, illuminating a round room. There’s a fire pit and a huge, iron spit in the middle. Bones are stacked up around the edge of the room. It’s like a catacomb. Many of them look old, almost dry, but a few look fresh with bits of tendon clinging onto them. Corey walks around the perimeter. There’s a bone saw against the rock wall and a tin of matchbooks.

He approaches the middle of the room. The fire pit is round and made of smooth, pale stones. The spit has scraps of burned meat stuck to it. Corey steps closer. It smells like barbecue. He looks down into the fire pit. Those aren’t rocks, they’re human skulls. The blood drains from Corey’s face. His heart races and he stumbles backwards but catches himself. This is Michael’s Ossuary and Grill.

Thumping and dragging noises begin to echo from the drain pipe. The thumps are irregular. A faint light begins to bounce around the cave. Corey scrambles to find somewhere to hide as the thumps get louder. He finds a nook between the ossuary and another room in the cavern. He can still see into the ossuary. He hopes the ossuary can’t see into him. The echoing thumps stop.

The artificial light brightens. Footsteps start, and the light moves in rhythm with the steps. There are two sets of footsteps. She asks, “Should I call it in?” Silence. Footsteps. Her voice is getting closer. “Okay. Hey, it’s okay. I just wish I knew who killed Nelson.” The vagabond, Corey realizes. He’s lying dead with a flashlight right outside the tent. That was part of his trap for Mulaney.

The lighter footsteps stop. “Wait, there’s already someone here,” she says. Corey’s heart races and he holds his breath. He can’t see them. He doesn’t know how she knows. Maybe she heard him breathing. Shoes scuff the ground and there’s a rustling sound.

“DOUG MULANEY? Jesus Christ, Michael.” Michael never stops walking. “I don’t even know what to say.” Corey exhales. The lighter footsteps quicken to catch up. "Did he find you?" They're very close.

Corey can see two shapes enter the ossuary, the huge one carrying another figure over its shoulder. Michael's breath is audible. There's a rustling and a loud thump. Duct tape rips off loudly, echoing through the cavern. Corey tries not to look, lest their light catch the reflection of his eyes. The light turns off.

He hears the snap of a match and the wind of a flame. A whoosh followed by crackling. The ossuary is gradually illuminated with a warm, flickering, orange light. It’s quiet for a minute. Too quiet for Corey to move. The warmth of the fire barely reaches Corey but is welcome. The room starts to smell like barbecue.

***

(Y/N) is sitting on the ground against the wall, catching her breath. Out of view, there’s a drag of metal on rock, probably the bone saw. She groans in disgust. "Yeah, think you’ve got this,” she says. “I should get going.”

The saw clatters to the ground. Heavy footsteps cross the room. Michael bends down and grabs her by the throat, then drops to his knees in front of her. He still towers over her, even with his knees spread over her legs. He doesn’t pick her up. Instead, he uses his other hand to jerk her toward him. With the hand around her throat, he forces her back onto the ground.

She chokes as he drags her closer, by the throat. Her torso comes to a stop between Michael’s knees. She manages to sit up on her elbows. She reaches out hesitantly, like she’s trying to catch a wild animal. Michael lets her touch his chest. His grip loosens and she gasps for air.

He sits back on his gargantuan haunches, which puts his clothed erection against her yoga pants. She gasps and looks straight ahead. The blood drains from her face. She reaches for his crotch as if her eyes deceive her. She runs her hand down the fabric, feeling his entire length. It must be the size of her forearm.

“Holy shit,” she says. Corey wonders if he's responsible for Michael's enhanced arousal. Blood rushes to his groin.

Michael cages her to the ground and yanks down her yoga pants. She looks apprehensive. She reaches for Michael’s chest. His hand snatches hers and brings it just below his upturned collar.

He slowly pulls down his zipper with her little hand. Corey's heart races. She tries to stop it but is no match for his strength. He grabs the sides of his upturned collar and thrusts his massive chest forward. The collar and jumpsuit fall back and a more precise silhouette of his back and arms emerge. He lets the long sleeves hang to his sides.

The firelight isn’t great, and the angle isn’t perfect, but from what Corey can see, Michael wears a dark, almost too-small t-shirt. His muscles are utterly unreasonable. His arms are the size of her thighs.

Corey looks around frantically but doesn’t find a better view. He desperately wants to see everything, but this is also his best chance to escape.

Michael's expansive back and empty sleeves obstruct the view of his crotch, but his back in itself is a vision, even under the dark t-shirt. He yanks the rest of her pants off and nudges her legs open with a giant knee, making space for himself.

Finally, Corey catches a glimpse of that monster cock. It’s commanding. Michael lowers himself over her before he can see it in more detail. She moans at the feeling of his naked girth hard against her. She rolls her hips. She must be so wet. But as Michael begins to position himself for entry, she begs, “please," she squirms, "it’s too much.”

Corey reaches for his pants and palms himself desperately with his massive hand. He shifts slightly toward the exit of his nook just in time to see her back arch as Michael shoves himself into her. She groans loudly and his enormous hand grabs her throat. His hulking muscles move gracefully under his shirt as he begins to fuck her. Corey can’t pull himself away.

Michael pushes slowly at first, like he’s letting her accommodate his even larger-than-usual size. She cries and paws at his chest. Every thrust is so powerful. Her legs are spread wide with her knees up. Michael never takes off his mask.

Her face hotly twists in pain. He persists. With time, her cries turn into soft moans and occasional gasps. She reaches up to his chest as she stares into the mask holes. His large hand swallows hers. They’re both sweating by the fireside as Michael's hips powerfully meet hers again and again.

Corey tries to ground himself. If he has any hope of moving things forward, he must make it out of this cave tonight. He backs away slowly. His arousal aches terribly, but he can’t indulge it, not right now. He needs his wits about him.

Michael just barely grunts, and it stops Corey in his tracks. It’s the hottest sound he never thought he’d hear. He steps back to where he was. He has to watch, come what may. He makes himself a deal. He can stay a few minutes if he doesn’t touch himself. Corey wants Michael, but he also wants to be Michael inside of her.

Michael grabs her hips and pulls her into him harder. Her feet come into the air and wrap loosely around him. Her legs are so small against Michael’s body. His rhythm quickens and he leans down closer.

Michael’s arms glisten and bulge out of his short sleeves. His strong forearms slide under her. With an emphatic thrust, he pulls her against him and scoops her up. He sits back on his haunches and holds her tight against himself. He grips her by the waist with her legs draped over his hips and continues to pound into her cunt.

He moves her rhythmically against his lap, jamming her down around his cock every time he thrusts. Her feet stick out behind him and bounce in the air each time she comes down on his shaft. She gasps throatily. Michael’s hands dwarf her. She looks like a doll getting bounced around. Michael breathes heavily and wraps his arms tighter.

Corey wants to fuck her like that. He also wants Michael to wrap his arms around him like that. He feels pre-cum seeping into his jeans. His cock twitches desperately.

Michael moves his hands to her ass and she hangs on around his broad neck, her arms grazing the bottom of his mask. He pulls back his speed, fucking her slower but with just as much power and pipe. After a minute, he slides his hands up her sides to her armpits. His thumbs cross her nipples, palms engulfing her breasts. He brings her down hard on his cock and Michael Myers audibly moans.

It’s too much for Corey. He brings his wrist down to his pants, unsure if he’s trying to stop it or get it over with. At the slightest friction, his cock empties itself in dramatic pulses. It feels like it happens in slow motion. A small gasp escapes his mouth.

She looks in Corey’s direction and her eyes widen just as he steps out of view. Michael keeps fucking her, unaware. Corey's heart pounds. His briefs feel full and warm.

It’s a challenge for Corey to move quietly. He's a big, burly guy. Every step he takes is heavy. He tries his best to silently slink toward the drain pipe. Sounds of animalistic fucking echoing through the cavern, masking his footsteps.

He hears breathing. Groaning. Rubber soles squeaking against wet rock. Fabric scraping the ground. She wails, he grunts.

Corey reaches the pipe and gently crawls into it. He goes very slowly, one big knee at a time, his large, filthy hands spread out in front of him. His knuckles are white. Moonlight is visible ahead. In the distance, behind him, he hears a whine, a choke, a slap, and a scream.

Then, he hears traffic from the overpass and feels cool, fresh air against his face. Just a little further and he steps out of the tunnel and collects himself. He uses his massive palms to brush off his knees. He jogs out of view of the drain. He sees the red truck, and has the passing urge to get inside and wait for (Y/N). But after such a close call, he's committed to not sabotaging himself, at least for now. She'll be sore anyway.

Continue with CHAPTER 5

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