#body Split open with an Eyeball wedged in a heart .

[5ftboy]

"At least the flies won't eat ya!"

[kashimos-hajime]

reunion pt. 1 (5/8) | r.b.

summary: His back rises and falls against your chest as Bertholdt stands, and your voice reeks with your own loathing and despair. You just want to know— “Bertholdt, please. What did I ever do to you to deserve to die?” Or, the return to Shiganshina is even worse than you imagined.

WARNINGS: aNGST ANGST ANGST, self loathing, swearing, mentions of heavy injuries and violence pairing: reiner braun x fem!reader word count: 6.4k

a/n: here we go!!! pain express. : )

masterlist

crossposted on ao3 x

Launching yourself to the top of the Wall, you find Armin’s gaze as he steps up to you, and you shake your head.

“All I found was three cups,” you inform quickly, “and the pot.” Meeting Commander Erwin’s stare, your knees seem to lock as he turns to Armin who seems to digest the information as well. Turning away to look out on Shiganshina, your eyes sweep the torn buildings, the abandoned silence making your insides cold.

You’re here, aren’t you? Reiner… Bertholdt… did you think of me half as much as I’ve thought about you? I still want answers. Would you even give them to me? Or was Eren telling the truth when he told me what you said about us, Reiner? You surrounded yourself with incompetent fools.

Especially me.

Someone calls your name and you jerk out of your slow reverie, blinking as Armin grabs your elbow and you turn, tugging your green cloak tighter around yourself as your grasp on your ODM grips tightens. With the orders given, you split off from him and jump off the wall, iron wires shooting into the stone. Swinging down to the ground, you split off from the group to explore one of the homes built flush against the wall. Entering, your heart is rapid, pounding against your windpipe.

You try to think like them—where they’d hide, what they’d look like, trying to blend in, but as you ascend the steps of the home and fall to your knees, looking under the bed and the tables, you find nothing. You get to your feet and walk over to the window, pushing it open and shouting, “Clear!”

In response, a couple other Scouts shout their own results, all the same sa yours, and you hop out the window. Landing back on the ground, you’re about to migrate over to the next house when an acoustic shell goes off and you grit your teeth, wrenching your head up. Something inside you snaps.

Someone found them. They actually found them—

Clicking the triggers, you shoot up the wall, the wind nipping at your nose and you land easily, running over to Armin, his signal gun still in hand.

“Did you find them?” you breathe but he shakes his head as Scouts fall all around them, encircling him. Stepping closer, you feel an unheeded wave of relief wash over you followed by a flood of guilt and you clench your jaw, looking down at the stone beneath your boots.

Why? Why should I be grateful they haven’t been found? All they ever did was lie to me. All he ever did was make promises to my face and plotted to kill me behind my back—

Commander Erwin’s voice cuts through your hurricane thoughts, and you look up, receiving the new orders and splitting off from the group once again.

No. No, just stop thinking.

Wiping at your face with the back of your hand, your breath burns through your chest as your grappling hooks sink into the stone and you lower yourself down the wall beside Armin. Tapping your blades against stone, you hear the clink-clink of all the other Scouts doing the same as your eyes scan for cracks, wedges, anything.

They were never on your side.

“Shit,” you whisper to yourself, descending. A strange, futile twist of your gut has you aching, exhausted despite the campaign barely beginning, and your legs feel numb as you jump lower and lower, your swords scraping against the Wall. Looking over at Armin, you catch his forced smile, and you nod to yourself, returning your gaze to the surface in front of you, reaching left and right to make sure all spots are checked.

And every time, you pray that the sound is full.

Frowning when you land in front of a cracked part of the wall, your eyes trace the spider webbed fissure before you lift your hand and tap where the cracks seem to stem from. Heart staggering in your chest, your blood chills when you hear it’s hollow. 

For a moment, you stare at the rock, knowing full well the eyes you’ll see behind it, and the world slows down into agonizing milliseconds. On instinct, your hand drops the sword and reaches for your belt before you shoot an acoustic shell towards the sky.

“Hey!” you scream, voice hoarse. “This spot is hollow!”

You turn to look at Armin just as a movement catches in the corner of your eye, and your head snaps back as the portion of the Wall is removed and dull silver shoots out of the darkness. Mouth dropping open, you wrench your stare up, pinning Reiner in the face, and you see the moment he recognizes you.

His eyes widen, arm freezing mid-thrust, the tip of the blade just barely digging into your chest. Not deep enough to bleed, but enough to prick.

You forget everything you need to say. Your voice catches in your throat, and a soft, shuddering breath escapes your lips. You understand why the world seems so slow now.

For what feels like years, you look into Reiner’s eyes before they narrow into a deadly glare, and your heart falls into the abyss. A chilling poison fills his entire face as he drops his blade, hand shooting out to grab your shoulder, and throwing you in. Plunged into darkness, you collide with stone as Reiner jumps out.

Shoulder and cheek blooming with a dull ache that comes and goes in tidal waves, you whirl around, retracting your iron wires with a quick press of your grips just as a blur of green flies past the hole. Eyes widening, you scramble forward.

Captain Levi yanks his blade out of Reiner’s neck and you watch as the captain shoots himself back up the Wall.

You hear the thud Reiner’s body makes, an empty sound that echoes in your head as you push yourself further over the edge of the hole. Yellow light bursts from his chest and you cover your face, squinting and gritting your teeth against the burning glare as Levi runs to you, pulling you out. The wind tears at your clothes, stinging your fingers as the fist at your collar tightens.

“Keep your distance and stick by him,” he growls into your ear before throwing you up. Activating your ODM gear, you burst up the wall, the captain beside you. “Reiner would’ve killed any other soldier if it weren’t you. Let’s hope that nepotism lasts.”

You eyes flit to Levi who only stares up, pale eyes narrowed against the bleak sky. You wish you could tell him that he’s wrong—he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

But your chest is hardening as the seconds pass, a coldness stemming from where the tip of Reiner’s sword had dug into you.

.

Throwing the final Thunder Spear you have at Reiner’s nape, you reroute yourself onto a nearby roof as the explosion goes off, rattling your entire skeleton. Slapping your hands over your ears, you squint at the blast before it disappears as quick as it came. As it dies down, you blink, trying to make out the shape of the Armoured Titan but dots still speckle your vision, blurring everything. Your ears ringing, a swelling feeling blocks up your chest.

What do you want to see? Do you want to see him again? On his feet, prepared to kill us. Prepared to kill you? Or will seeing him on his knees, steam rising from his body bring you more relief?

You’re not sure. Your body is thrumming with adrenaline, every thought of fatigue chased from your mind, and as you sink to one knee, you wait.

When the smoke finally clears, you finally see him. The Armoured Titan on his knees, keeling over, and at the nape of his neck, a pillar of steam rising from his body, sits Reiner. Lips parting, you surge to your feet and wait again, wait for him to begin to move. 

Reiner… get up. What are you doing? Get up!

Boots shifting against the tiled rooftop, your grip on your swords tightens when you can’t even see the slightest rise and fall of his shoulders, the sway of his body. No, he’s statuesque in his position, and your heart drops as cheers rise all around you.

“The Armoured Titan just bit the dust!”

The words pass through one ear and out the other. Rooted to your spot, a burning begins to fester in your eyeballs as something warm slips over your cheeks, into your open mouth, and it tastes salty on your tongue. Breath shuddering in your chest, your vision begins to blur again and you blink, a fresh wave of tears streaming down your face.

No, no, stop it! Stop crying for him! He’s dead! You should be glad for that! Your voice is ragged in your head as you slam the heel of your hand into your temple. Stop it! Stop it! Reiner, move! Please, don’t be dead. Shit! Teeth clenched tight, you fall to your knees as Section Commander Hange just across the street from you with Mikasa and Armin, orders for another round of Thunder Spears. Your fingers dig into your scalp as Scouts begin to move, the steam rising from Reiner’s body hot enough even from here to scorch you.

A Scout lands beside you, giving you two near Spears, and you look at them blankly, knowing you should be eager to grab them, but you just can’t move.

‘Thank you,” you murmur to him and he only nods before moving on, just as you hear metal clink and your gaze wrenches up. The Armoured Titan throws his head back, jaw unhinging, and a piercing scream shatters the air. Eyes wide, your palms slap over your ears again as the air trembles and your heart halts in your chest, the air paralyzingly still.

The tiles beneath your knees seem to shake under the force of the wail before Reiner tilts forward, steaming corpse freezing even deeper in prostrate. 

Crawling forward, your eyes fix on Reiner’s shoulders. Is he… he’s…

“Everyone, move away from the Armoured Titan!” The order barely distracts you as the other Scouts flee. Chancing a glance at your comrades, you realize they’re already barrelling away from you, and you steel your nerves, squaring your hips.

And then you launch yourself off the roof. 

The tile breaks as you fly through the air, landing on the Titan’s shoulder, and you grunt, planting a palm flat against the surface. With a hard swallow, you push yourself to your feet and wipe the stubborn tears drying on your cheeks with a grimace.

We can still save him, you think to yourself resolutely. If he’s still alive, we can still save him

Submerging yourself in the white steam, you ignore the smouldering at your palms as you traverse up to the nape, stepping over the shattered remains of armour.

I already lost the farm. 

Waving away the hot fog, you reach Reiner’s shoulder and fall to your knees beside him. It’s all coming from his head and you look down at his arms, still submerged in Titan flesh. Eyebrows knotting together, you reach out for the patch of skin you can still see, and electricity shoots up your bones when you realize he’s still warm.

I lost Annie.

“Shit!” Your hand flies to his back and his chest, feeling for a heartbeat and you try to listen for breaths as your palms slide against green fabric. 

I’m not about to lose you, too.

You crane your neck to catch a glimpse of his face but it’s still nothing more than smoke and black and blood, dripping everywhere. Grimacing, you move your palms left just as a faint pulse renders you frozen.

Then, it’s another pulse, and another, soft and weak, but still there.

The sound of ODM gear makes your head snap up and your ribs ache when you realize who it is.

“Bertholdt.” His name is ripped out of your throat as he lands on the other side of Reiner, and for a moment, you see the best friend you once knew before he’s swallowed up by whoever he is now, eyes glinting with a calm you can’t recognize. “Bertholdt, help me.“

“Reiner. Is he—“

“No, he’s still alive,” you reply back quickly. He falls to his knees, moving your hands out of the way to feel for himself, and Bertholdt’s face goes lax when he feels what you did. “Help me get him out of here, please.”

“What the—he must’ve transferred his consciousness throughout his entire nervous system. We talked about it,” he mutters, almost to himself, “but only as a last resort. To think that he would actually need to.” Your eyes trail to his arms again, and you lift your sword. You could cut him out. If you have enough gas, you can probably pull the both of them back to the Wall—

“Bertholdt!” His gaze snaps to you and your fingers wrap around the hilt tighter. “Help me cut him out. I think we can save him if we just—“

“What are you doing?” he asks flatly. Stunned, you can only look at him and he turns his gaze away bitterly. “Why are you helping him? Trying to help me?”

“You’re my family, Bertholdt.” His shoulders go rigid, as if he’s holding back a flinch, and you lower the blade to the tendons along Reiner’s arm. “I have to save who I have left. I’m not going to leave you guys like I left Annie. We can still fix this. Please, please, please help me cut him out before the Scouts finish him off.”

“You’re more desperate than I thought.” It’s not cold, but it makes you freeze all the same. “You know how this is going to go. You always knew. You’re going to die,” he tells you firmly. You reel back, stung, but Bertholdt pays you no mind. “It doesn’t matter whether I help you or not.”

“Bertholdt—“

“Reiner,” he addresses his friend again and your eyes begin to burn again as your gaze finds where the flesh of the Titan meets Reiner’s arm, the glint of your blade so bright compared to the redness of the beast. Your entire body weighs a thousand pounds, and you squeeze your eyes tight, tears slipping down your nose. “Reiner, I need you to do something for me. You’re going to have to move, just a little bit. Lie down with your Titan body facing upwards.”

All you need to do is just swing off his arm. It should be so simple. 

“And if you can’t, then I’m sorry. Prepare for the worst.”

Your face lifts up to find your old friend’s, but he refuses to look at you as you grab Reiner’s shoulders, pull yourself to his side. His back rises and falls against your chest as Bertholdt stands, and your voice reeks with your own loathing and despair. You just want to know— “Bertholdt, please. What did I ever do to you to deserve to die?” 

His hands roll into fists before he reaches up to pull out his hand grips, long fingers wrapping around the triggers. 

“Nothing. You’ll always be one of my dearest comrades. One of my truest friends.” His shoulders fall into his back as he tilts his head to look at you out of the corner of his eye. Your blood chills when you find nothing inside his own stare except cold, hard determination. “I’m just ending a war that we were unlucky enough to be born in. It’s nothing personal.” 

Without another word, he jumps off Reiner’s shoulder and you snap your jaws shut, determined not to focus any more time on him. Turning back to Reiner, you run over in your head what Bertholdt had said.

Truest friend.

You feel stiff everywhere. Even when you try to shove his voice of your head, you can’t. One word leads to another and to another, until every memory is playing back, from the times he helped you muck the stables, to the years spent training side by side—you had known about his crush on Annie. Who else had known? You’d been the only one, you’re sure of it—

“I need you to do something for me.”

Shaking your head, your eyes fix on the back of Reiner’s head.

“If your consciousness is through your entire body, then cutting you out won’t do any permanent damage, will it?” you whisper near his ear, but he gives no sign of answer and you jerk back onto your knees. But what if it does? After all, permanent nerve damage is a thing that plagues a bunch of soldiers. I’ve seen it—what if that happens to him, too? Hands trembling, your guts get up into knots and you roll your fingers into fists but even still, it doesn’t help the shaking that travels up your arms. Permanent damage and alive is better than dead. 

But what if it’s like cutting off a head? This is the host after all. None of this makes any sense!

“Reiner, if you can hear me”—you lunge forward again, fingers digging into his shoulders—“I need you to tell me if it’s okay. I can’t kill you. I can’t!” The ground trembles and you let out a gasp as the muscles of his back flex against your arm. Jerking back, you feel the same movement in the Armoured Titan’s shoulders and you let out a shout as a hand clasps sloppily over you.

Plunged into darkness, your ODM gear crashes against something hard and your body is jostled like a pebble about to be skipped over water. Blades flying freely, you try to get a good grasp on the hilt before you’re stabbed and you feel the air sifting between the cracks of plated fingers as you fall backwards.

Trying to get up, you manage to stumble to your feet just as the fist you’re trapped in jerks back and sends you flying backwards. Your head crashing into a plate, white stars explode in your vision and your body goes limp as you let out a soft groan. Eyes struggling to stay open, you barely make out the shape of the Armoured Titan’s fingers wrapped all around you before a wave of exhaustion crashes on your skull, and your neck gives out.

Head dropping back against the plate, a ringing silence fills the air, and your eyes slip shut. The pulsing ache in your temple stops moments later as something warm trails down the side of your face.

.

You don’t recall the last time you’ve laughed so hard your cheeks ache. You never would’ve guessed it would’ve been laughing at one of Connie’s jokes six months into cadet training as they walk back to the dorms.

“Fun times today. Who knew you could be such a joker?” Connie laughs, elbowing you. You rub the back of your neck, embarrassed. “Just needed a little time to warm up to us, huh?”

“Yeah,” Jean snorts. “Who could connect Little Miss Shy over here with the same girl who danced to the busker’s music just because Connie said to?” 

“Oh, shut up, guys. Take a look in the mirror. Besides, I had to make sure I wouldn’t die of insanity the instant I hung out with you, Connie. I’m never playing Truth or Dare with you again,” you say pointedly. “Get to your bunks.” The boy mock salutes you to the amusement of Bertholdt and Reiner who stand with them, and you roll your eyes before shooting Jean and Connie a smile. “Goodnight, guys.”

“Goodnight.”

“And, er, goodnight, Reiner.”

He simply dips his head to you, and you try not to let your smile falter. Reiner breaks off from their group first, with Connie, then Jean, and Bertholdt lingers behind for a moment longer. Curious, you stop in front of the door to the dorm, arching an eyebrow.

“What’s up?”

“We had a good time today in Trost,” he says. “I’m glad you came with us.”

“Thanks for inviting me. I’m really sorry I couldn’t convince Annie to,” you add and he shakes his head. “I think she would’ve had a great time.”

“It’s okay.” Your eyes narrow a bit when you see he looks away. His hand runs through his hair nervously and an inkling of an idea sprouts in your head. Oh, no way. “Maybe next time?”

“Yeah, for sure.” Stepping away, you send him a final, tired smile. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” 

You step through the door and spot the lone figure still inside easily enough. The other girls must be washing up or sneaking something to eat from the kitchens, but you’re too exhausted to even think about doing so. You just remind yourself to wake up extra early tomorrow if you can so you can sneak into the showers before muster. Meandering over to your bed, you make yourself known to the blonde girl.

“Hey, Annie,” you say, stretching one of your arms high above your head. The blonde in question looks up and you offer a smile as you push yourself up onto her bunk uninvited. She begrudgingly moves aside, and you lay down on your stomach, removing something from your pocket as she leans against the wall of their dorm, book in her lap.

“Did you have any fun?” she asks dryly and you nod. “Well, what do you want?”

“I brought you something. I think you’ll like it.” Setting the package down in front of her, you watch her expression carefully, glee shooting through you when you notice her lips parting, a hint of a smile twitching her cheeks. It’s taken a lot of persistent work, but being able to read Annie’s micro-expressions is a joy all in itself as you roll onto your back against her legs. “You didn’t come to our first visit to Trost today. You missed out on a lot of fun.”

She doesn’t answer and you sigh, unfolding the paper bag quietly. Flashing the opening to her, you tilt your head.

“I bought you this. I thought you might like it,” you repeat, pointing at the cream bun within, and Annie’s eyes flash to the bag, widening just a bit. She sets down her book, and leans over, legs crossing, and you pull yourself up to mirror her position. Reaching forward, the blonde pulls out the first bit of the dessert carefully, and you try to hold back your huge grin. “I know you liked sweets, and I really missed you today. You should come next time.”

“You bought this for me?” she asks, confused, tearing the dough apart and you nod when blue eyes search your face. She pops a bite into her mouth, and you wait for reaction. Eyebrows shooting up, she almost looks impressed before she rips off another piece, and offers it to you. 

You take it graciously, the sweetness in the bread melting into your blood and soothing your fatigued body from the inside out. “We’re friends, aren’t we? Of course I thought of you when I saw that bakery.”

“We’re comrades,” she corrects, but even so, there’s something warmer in her tone. You wonder if she even notices. “But still, that’s… nice of you.”

“It’s nothing. Just come with me next time, and you could have them fresh. They’re even better and have all these different flavours and custards.” Annie’s eyes narrow for a moment, before she shoves the bun back into the paper bag with a sigh.

“Fine.” You turn to climb off her bunk and duck into your own just underneath hers but she calls your name quietly. Poking your head above the railing, you quirk an eyebrow. “You forgot this.” She shoves the paper bag back towards you and you frown.

“It’s for you. You can have the rest of it,” you say and her arm falters, eyebrows shooting up and lips parting in incredulity. You flash her a smile. “Goodnight, Annie.” Jumping back to the floor, you hear the soft crinkling of the paper bag and a warmth burns through your chest as you pull the covers back and shrug off your jacket. Changing into plainclothes, you slip into bed with a soft sigh, your muscles yawning in relief.

“Goodnight,” a tired voice breaks the silence, and you roll onto your side, the corner of your mouth curving up as you bury your face into your pillow. Minutes pass, and your eyes begin to grow heavy as a sort of draw tugs at you. Pulling the sheets tight against your chest, your eyelids slide shut.

Then, quieter, that same voice cracking in your newfound darkness, you hear: “Thank you.”

The world fades black for only for a moment before you jolt awake, mind scrambling. You’re no longer in your bed at the cadet corps, and you let out a sharp breath when everything around you smells like dust rather than warm candle wax.

Your entire body is on fire. Groaning, you push yourself onto all fours and rub at your cheek as the body beneath your shifts. Something wet soaks into your sleeves and you reach blindly for your swords as the hand above you falls away. Disoriented, you cradle your head.

Why… why was I thinking about Annie? you wonder to yourself as you land on the palm of Reiner’s hand and the fingers begin to uncurl. I haven’t thought about that night since Stohess.

Sunlight sears your irises and you squint against the grey sky as you look up, and a tight invisible fist grabs your windpipe, strangling out any air you might’ve used to scream when glowing yellow eyes pin you down.

Maybe because she always made me believe that there shouldn’t be too much to fear in this world. Struggling to your feet, your fists clench tighter. Maybe because she fooled me into thinking that she’d be there for me.

Maybe I miss her.

That’s always been more likely.

You turn to look at your surroundings, your eyes straining against the light still, but as you keep blinking, you realize that it’s all on fire. Face screwing up, you look down at your hands. They’re stained with red. You swallow, a nausea tiding over you when you realize what you had wiped off your face hadn’t been tears, but your own blood. 

Your head jerks up as a crashing rumbles the air, and you spot a giant red figure sweeping a hand through the rows of houses, molten stone. Fire flies everywhere. Smoke stains everything you can see.

Hell has come to us, you realize. We never had to die to become devils, did we?

“Bertholdt…” At your voice, the palm beneath you shifts and you can’t breathe as you look down, trying to keep yourself upright. Whirling around, you look up to see those Titan eyes peering down at you curiously, and you brandish your swords.

“Reiner!” Your vocal cords tear and you could’ve choked on your own blood as you swallow a clot down. “Reiner, I won’t kill you, but that doesn’t mean I won’t do everything I can to stop you!” His fingers curl. You feel one nudge into your back, forcing your weak knees to give in, and you bow over, fists slamming against the heel of his hand. “Fuck.” 

Your world beveled, you sway on your hands and knees as you lift your head up to look at him. Seeing twins of everything, your eyes strain as you try to make sense of what’s up and what’s down as your skin, sticky with blood, tears against the wedge of his armour.

“Fuck,” you choke out rawly, eyes squeezing shut. “Fuck!”

Fingers pinch the back of your shirt delicately, and you’re hoisted into the air with a strangled gasp. Limbs flailing, you watch the ground get smaller as you’re lifted up. You’re like a limp doll in his fingers as Reiner twists to set you aside on a nearby roof. 

When your knees meet tile, you let out a soft breath, your lips parted in the shape of his name.

“…Reiner?”

He does not answer. Instead, he turns your world upside down.

His hand drags through the structure beneath you. The stone gives in, cracks like egg shells, wood snaps, glass shatters into a million shards, and the ground beneath you crumbles, shakes, gives in even as you reach for him.

Suspended in mid-air for just a moment, you swear you can see him in the Titan’s face for just a moment, his eyes wide with regret, and then you’re plummeting through the debris, landing hard on your back. It punches the air out of you and your lungs spasm as you stare up at the sky caving above you. Entire body filled with a tingling numbness, shadows fall all over your face.

Crossing your arms over your head and locking them tight as you can, you turn your face away and squeeze your eyes tight as dust and stone rains down on your head, arms, body. 

Ear to the ground, you go deaf from the entire world trembling with the sound of the Armoured Titan’s footsteps and it’s the only thing you can feel, even after the sun is eclipsed by wood and stone.

.

Connie stands over you. 

His skin red with burns, he looms over you like a shadow, face pale, eyes wide as you stare right through him. Throat like ash and dry enough to scratch, your fingers twitch from where it’s trapped underneath a cinderblock and he breathes your name, shuddering and cold. Blood crumbles along your broken fingers as he shakes his head, his tears glimmering in the searing grey light. Crouching, he shifts something off your legs, lifts another block off your stomach, and your stomach flutters as you inhale raggedly.

Everything is destroyed inside you.

“C-onnie… Co-onnie…” 

He works his way up your body, removing the parts of you that crush you still, and with every piece that he gets rid off, you realize that part of your body is still attached. Closing your eyes, your lips press together weakly and you swallow as he finally makes his way up to your face.

“Connie…” you whisper one last time as something warm puffs against your neck, and everything stills.

Then, hands grab your face. “Say that again!” he demands, and you let out a soft moan, brow wrinkling.

“C-Connie?” 

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit!”

The hands are ripped off your face as if you had burned him, and your eyes crack open as he fumbles at his belt for his signal gun and shoots green smoke up at the sky, through a roof no longer above you anymore. The shot pierces your eardrums and your entire head begins to ring as you cough, blood spilling over your lips. Your arms feel shattered, aching so deeply, muscles so twisted that you can’t even lift them as Connie crouches back over you again, holding onto your face.

“H-how?”

“Reiner told us where you were. We thought you were dead! I’m going to get you out of here, though.” Grabbing one of your arms, he tugs and you let out a shout as the debris shifts around you. Your back screams, bones clicking awkwardly and he apologizes under his breath, as he hoists you up and forward. As you’re dragged back onto the street, your legs trail unevenly over the debris, every slide and knock of your boots against stone jolting through your fractured bones.

The cold wind that sweeps over your face as soon as you break through of the ash cloud is heaven sent. 

“How badly does it hurt?” asks Connie.

“Like a—a building got dropped on me,” you breathe, and he lets out a shaky laugh, setting you down and procuring a waterskin. Carefully wrapping your pulsing fingers around it for you, he helps you tilt the water down your throat and you swallow greedily, stomach convulsing after sucking down lungfuls of grated stone and smoking ashes. Pitching forward, water dribbles down your chin and he takes the waterskin back. “The others. What’s going on with the others?”

“Sasha’s out, but she’s okay,” he reports. Your knees bend and your head hangs off your neck, staring at the road as you look at your own body. Your uniform’s been torn and dirtied to hell. “Bertholdt got taken down by Eren and Armin, and we got Reiner. Hange’s interrogating him now.”

“They’re… alive?” you rasp, harsh electricity scalding your chest. Your ribs shift with every unsteady breath, knives puncturing your side and your entire world is upside down still, fresh blood coating your face. You don’t know where your skin has broken, but you’re sure the warm sensation crawling down your neck isn’t sweat.

“For now. Hold on, let me check your gear.” Your fingers get that strange dull stretching sensation that comes with poor circulation, and you flex your hands and tighten them into fists, frowning to yourself as he leans in beside you. Twisting, something inside you tears apart and your lungs seize painfully as you stretch broken fingers for the grey metal canister. Connie pulls back. “Can you stand?”

“My—my gear. It’s dented,” you mumble, reaching down to the hand grips from where they still trail on the ground behind you. Wrapping your fingers around the triggers, you try to lift your head but a sharp pain stabs into your neck and your expression screws up tight. “Shit!” Connie’s hands find your shoulders but you wave him away, your breaths coming harsh, knocking against the sides of your body like a stick against a washing board. “I can stand.”

“You’re bleeding pretty badly,” he murmurs as you push yourself up, biting on the inside of your cheek to prevent yourself from screaming. Blood bursts on your tongue as your entire right leg flares up, melting like forged metal from the inside out.

When you look down, you realize everything below your right knee looks curved and uneven, and as you place even more pressure on your right foot, hot, racing agony spirals up all the way into your hip. 

“I think I broke my leg,” you finally say after a moment and Connie’s eyes fall to knee as you limp forward on your own. He reaches his arms out to scoop you up but you bat his hands away, shaking your head. “It’s fine. I can still walk. Come on.”

“I can’t believe this,” he mutters to himself, and you only give him an uneasy look before looking up at the buildings, trying to aim your gear. Head blooming, a heat swathes your body as you click and iron wire shoots out of your crushed gear. It lands awkwardly, not quite straight, but you tell yourself it has to be enough before you’re launching yourself into the air. “Follow me!” 

Connie leads you through the destruction of Shiganshina, and your heart, pounding painfully against your breastbone, only quickens when you spot the pillar of steam that has to be Reiner’s body. Gas boosting you through the air, you swing towards it, your head spinning as Connie begins to lower himself down to the roof above where you see a green cape crouched by the wall.

Landing in the streets, you crash to the ground ungracefully, your right leg buckling and your left only barely managing to break your fall as you pitch forward, rolling onto your side with a restrained groan. Your ODM gear crashes jankily all around you. Your eyes burning with the pure fire lighting through you, you grit your teeth and push yourself up, gaze swinging to fix on the green cape standing beside a body,

“Hange,” you choke out and their eyes tear away from whatever they’re looking at as a new figure falls to his knees beside you.

“You’re okay.” Wincing at Jean’s rough voice in your ear, you turn your head to catch sight of a face similarly red to Connie’s. A bandaged is wrapped around his chest and arm, but he looks relatively okay as he helps you up. Your legs splayed out beside you, you push yourself onto your knees and grab onto his arms as he hauls you to your feet. “Shit, you look banged up.”

“I know. I’ll be okay.” Eyes fixing on the body still steaming, you catch sight of shadowed blond hair and, without thinking, your body sags when you realize who it is. “Reiner.” His head lifts just a bit at your voice, and you flinch back at his inflamed face, the smooth skin trying to stitch itself back together. 

In one, forced breath, he barely whispers your name, and your feet move, as if he’s summoned. You nearly reach for him, your eyes fixed solely on where his eyes should be.

“Hey, stay back! We’re waiting for Mikasa’s signal,” Jean murmurs, wrapping his uninjured arm around you and your boots dig into the dirt as he grunts in your ear at your resistance. “Don’t do something stupid.”

“Jean—“

The sound of a shell firing off cuts off your words and you lift your blurry vision to the sky, making out the red smoke parting the grey just as the world begins to tremble for what feels like the fifth time today. Jean tears his arm off of you, and you whirl around as a four-legged Titan barrels towards them. He flings himself at their Section Commander, knocking both of them out of the way just as you send yourself flying up onto a roof and you twist back to make sure they’re okay.

Landing on the tile, you lean forward.

Paralyzed, you can only watch as the beast takes Reiner into his mouth and begins to run away. Rooted to your spot, your entire body locks up. Ice drips through your veins, warping your insides until you’re shivering, lips parted as you let out shuddering breaths ripe with your own blood.

Hands trembling, you watch the Titan disappear from view, and your fingers go lax, dropping your hand grips and letting them dangle off the roof like puppets whose strings have long since been abandoned.

The world seems to stop and you cannot hear anything except his quiet, raspy breath of your name.

It does not start again until Hange orders you to regroup with the others where Captain Levi is.

[imagine-darksiders]

Haven

Chapter 4 - The Blessed Dark.

There haven't been many instances in your life where you've stopped and taken a few moments to really appreciate just how much of a blessing the darkness can be. As a child, the pieces of literature you'd hungrily consumed had all taught you that the dark is a frightening thing, a mysterious, encroaching force that hides monsters and brings nightmares to life.

Now though, having cautiously stolen through a city in the wake of a world-wide, apocalyptic event, you couldn't be more grateful for the darkness and its penchant for hiding things you don't want to see.

The maker – Ulthane – had insisted upon walking behind you as soon as your feet touched the black, crumbling tarmac, explaining that he’d feel a hell of a lot better with you in his sights at all times. Though you weren’t sure whether this was to ensure you didn’t run off again or to keep you out of danger. Either way, you had little choice but to reluctantly comply. 

Having him at your back the whole way to the museum set your nerves on edge, not only because your trust in the strange, otherworldly giant is flimsy at best, but also because you wish you could have had something to focus your eyes on. The straps of his boots, the pebbles that bounced up off the ground with every step he took. Anything to keep your attention away from the eerie, indistinct lumps that laid scattered all over the streets you passed through.

Night had obscured most of their features, and if it weren't for the moon that shone overhead, you could have quite easily pretended they were no more than piles of fallen debris, perhaps some upskittled rubble. But every now and then, you crept around a corner or through an alley, and in searching the area for any signs of danger, your eyes would happen to pass over one of those lumps and the moonlight would glint off a glassy eyeball, a mouth gaped open and frozen in place, sometimes a pale hand, reaching, stretching out to grasp for help that never came.

Each time, you reeled back and threw a hand over your eyes, assuring yourself that you hadn't just seen what you thought you saw. “Just a pile of rubble,” you whimpered through gritted teeth, “Or mannequins... a trick of the light...” 

If you started seeing them as humans, you feared your heart might just cease to beat.

But there were hundreds of them. Thousands perhaps. And it quickly became harder and harder to pretend.

“This is where I found you.”

The sudden intrusion of Ulthane's rumbling bass rips you out of a foggy haze and you leap out of your skin, suddenly aware that you’ve made it all the way back to the museum carpark. Swearing under your breath, you berate yourself for drifting off. You've no recollection of getting here, your body seemed to know where it was going, even if your mind didn't. At least Ulthane had his wits about him. You shudder to think what might have happened if he wasn't following close behind you, his head on a constant swivel, senses primed and ready to intercept any demon that tried to get too close.

The carpark you've stumbled back into is wildly different than it had been during the day because suddenly, the silhouettes of all those construction vehicles parked nearby look more like abysmal, eldritch horrors, all jagged and sharp and twisted out of shape in the dark. While the museum, you find, craning your neck back to gulp at the imposing structure, is no less daunting.

What had once been a place to learn and preserve aspects of history now stands as a silent monument to a terrible memory. You will always remember you were here the day the world ended.

“Cold?” 

Jolting, you glance up at the maker and manage to squeak out an eloquent, “Huh?”

In response, he wordlessly points down at your arms and it takes you a moment to realise you’ve wrapped them around yourself. 

“O-oh, no!” Hastily, you whip your hands back down. “Not cold...Just-”

“-Scared?”

There’s little point in trying to lie, especially when he’s giving you such a knowing look. “A...A bit,” you mutter eventually. It isn’t a total lie, at least.

A single brow slides smoothly up the giant’s forehead and remains poised there, dubiousness thick and blatant in his resounding hum. After a few seconds of subjecting you to his unwavering scrutiny, Ulthane draws himself up tall and grabs his belt, hoisting it a little higher on his hips. “You know, you’ve got nothin’ to worry about with me around, lass,” he declares matter-of-factly. 

It’s all very well him saying that, it’s another thing entirely for you to feel it. Still, all the same, you flash him a smile and offer a noncommittal, “Mmhmm,” before taking your first, tentative steps towards the museum. With your eyes kept peeled for anything that could be lurking behind upturned cars or in the still smouldering craters left by demons, you pick your way over loose rebar and head for the museum's south side. 

Along the way however, your eyes are drawn to a familiar sight.

The mouth of a concrete pipe stands several feet away, its concrete surface flecked with blood and covered in long, shallow scratches.

Behind you, your staunch sentinel catches you looking and he follows your gaze, pushing a low hum up his throat when he sees what you've spotted. “Sorry if I frightened you before,” he mutters, carefully considering the side of your face, though you're quick to turn away from him and march rigidly onwards. 

“What was that thing?” you ask softly.

Ulthane decides to let your deflection slide for now.

Scratching at the underside of his coarse beard, he waits for you to clamber through the gaping hole in the museum's wall before he replies. “S'what's called a Sufferin'. Horrible beast. Takes what's dead n' brings 'em back. Just not in any way that's good.”

“Wait-” You pause to get your bearings, squinting into the darkness of the cavernous room. “It can....what? Bring people back to life?” A semblance of hope creeps into your question and the maker's mouth screws up, hating that he'll have to be the one who stamps that little light out before it can gain traction.

“No, no, lass,” he explains softly, watching your face crumple, “It turns 'em into husks. Empty shells with nothin' in their heads but hunger.”

“...Oh...”

Ulthane sighs as you kick a loose stone and listen to it skitter beneath the monstrous skeleton he'd marvelled at earlier. Once the sound fades and you've begun to trail numbly after it, brushing your fingertips along an ancient fibula, the maker's brow creases, but rather than squeeze through with you, he hurries around the front of the skeleton, meeting you on the other side of its leg and allowing himself to be led over to a set of double doors that seem barely wide and high enough for him to fit through. Determined that he won’t be bested by a few, flimsy planks of wood though, Ulthane glares them down, his frown growing by the minute. 

Oblivious to the giant's new predicament, you hastily trot through to the other side and find yourself promptly awash in the sickly green of numerous emergency lights. “We're close now,” you whisper, pointing down the hall. “The kids should be in a room just down here.”

There's no answer for several seconds, save for a grunt and then a firm thud, and finally, “Uh oh.”  

“Uh oh?” Confused, you spin around and immediately have to slap a hand over your mouth to prevent a laugh from jumping out.

Somehow, the giant has managed to wedge himself halfway through the too-small doorframe. One of his legs has made it, along with his head and forearm. The problem however, lies with his broad shoulders, their bulky girth too wide for the opening and he, in all his wisdom, has obviously tried to stuff them through at the same time instead of one after the other. What results is the rather comical sight of a poor, mahogany doorframe trying its best not to buckle around Ulthane's bulging deltoids and failing miserably.

With another grunt, he gives his arms an experimental thrust, only succeeding in getting himself even more stuck and he curses, looking down at you helplessly.

You don’t know where the courage to laugh came from. “Are – ha! Ahem, are you okay?” you squeeze out through pursed lips, stepping closer.

“Oh, I'm dandy,” the maker grumbles and strains hard against his wooden bindings once more. Suddenly, the wall all around the doorframe begins to creak and moan in protest and a loud 'snap' splits the still air and makes you flinch. There, in the plaster, right where Ulthane’s shoulders press most firmly into the door, are two, fresh cracks that have spidered outwards along the wall.

“Woah, woah! Stop!” you hiss, waving your hands in front of his face, “You're going to break it!”

Halting his efforts, he tucks his chin in and slides you a flat stare down his nose.

“Oh.” You suppose it does seem somewhat odd to want to preserve a door when the rest of the world has gone completely to ruin. “Alright, well....You’re like, super strong right? Can’t you just like, bust through?” 

He tries not to swell with pride at the unintended compliment. To be honest, that had been the first solution Ulthane had considered. He’s certainly strong enough to simply burst through with sheer, brute force, but after some more thought, he realises that while this building’s infrastructure is solid enough by human standards, any sudden stress to the foundations could potentially cause a wall or ceiling to collapse. And with you standing right below him, even ‘potentially’ is much too risky. “Oh, I could, easily,” he at last replies, “if I wanted to bring the whole roof down on our heads.” 

“Right. Best not do that then.” Chewing on your lip, you consider the giant warily for a moment before throwing your hands up in defeat. “Oh for goodness sake. Here, let me help.”

A bemused smile replaces Ulthane's frown as you step close to him and wrap your hands around the thick chain connecting his shoulder pauldron to his belt and after testing your grip, you plant your feet and give a tremendous heave backwards.

At least, it's tremendous from your perspective.

The maker, at best, feels you give the chain a gentle tug. 

Forgetting himself, his eyes soften and a fond smile sprawls out across his face. All he can do for is marvel over your sudden burst of determination and admire the way your face scrunches up with the effort as tiny, delicate knuckles turn white and your feet begin sliding across the marble floor. From this close, the dust drifting up off your hair tickles his nose when he inhales, taking up the scent of sweat and dirt that clings to your skin. 

Suddenly, he blinks. 

For the briefest moment, he's reminded of his realm - the sticky heat of the forge, the earth under his fingernails when he'd build with his hands, the salt he would taste on his upper lip after tussling with his brother.... Ulthane's eyes slip closed. By the Stone....You smell of home.

A short, sharp scream yanks him back into the present and his head jerks up just in time to see your feet slip out properly from underneath you after giving the chain another, hard pull.

Without thinking, without remembering that he's jammed inside a doorway, the maker jerks his arm forwards and twists his hand around, letting you fall harmlessly into an upturned palm. The chain you'd been yanking on had slipped from your grasp as you fell and now it clinks gently against Ulthane's chest as he stares down at you, his surprise mirrored by your own.

“Uh....Thanks,” you pant uncertainly, blinking a few times at the giant's abrupt closeness. 

“You should be more careful,” he murmurs and you get a good view of his tusks with each word, “Don’t want to exacerbate that any further.” Just then, one of his enormous fingers curls inwards to prod ever so gently at your bruised side, although you hardly notice the responding twinge his touch produces, your attention too swept up by his smokey, grey stare. You instead find yourself wondering what makes up the biology of his eyes that causes them to glow faintly in the dark corridor. And has he always smelled so strongly of leather? It quickly dawns on you that you’re staring and you balk, tearing your eyes away to focus on the wall, only to let out a breathless laugh seconds later, jutting your chin and indicating his shoulder. “Uh, hey, check it out.”

“Hmm?” He had been so busy admiring the sculpt of your face and pondering how it could only have been carved by a skilled artist that at first, your words don’t register. “What?” Tipping his head to one side, Ulthane follows your gaze. His lips part around a soft chuckle upon discovering that his shoulders are no longer stuck. “Well, would you look at that?” In moving so suddenly to catch you, he'd managed to tear an arm free of its confines, allowing ample space for the other to follow through, all without taking the ceiling down.

A noisy exhale spews out of his nose as he places you back on solid ground and heaves the rest of his bulk into the narrow hallway. It's cramped and he has to stoop considerably to keep his head from constantly bumping against the ceiling, but it is manoeuvrable.

He raises a hand with a view to sheepishly scratch at the back of his neck, finds his elbow hits the wall, and drops it back down again. “Right,” he says, “That was...uh...”

“Kind of funny?” you dare to venture, trying to gauge his expression in the meagre lighting.

In response, the maker snorts. “I was about to say embarassin' but I reckon it's all about perspective.”

Indeed. To him, the whole ordeal of being stuck inside a doorframe while the human he rescued is present as a witness is utterly mortifying. You however, didn't just find it funny. It also came as somewhat of a relief.

To see the unassailable giant make a mistake, to blunder, to err like that....

Perhaps these makers are more like humans than you'd previously thought. Suddenly, Ulthane doesn't seem like such an unearthly stranger anymore.

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you jab a thumb down the hall. “We should...probably hurry up, right?”

And just like that, the atmosphere thickens once more. Tension creeps back into your stance and Ulthane's lips tilt down at the corners, the gruff visage slipping into place as if it had never left. With a resolute nod, the maker waits for you to turn before he lumbers after you down the shadowy hallway, his eyes trained on a small, green glow at the far end.

You proceed hesitantly, jumping every time one of the emergency lights flickers and sparks, and you can't help but to notice that they aren't as bright as they'd been when you left. The fact that whoever had the wit to install battery operated ones is a minor miracle or you'd be fumbling around in pitch darkness right now, though it seems they've finally started to run out of juice. 

‘Well... I know how they feel.’

Closer and closer you creep until the vault door at last looms into view, its metal surface glowing eerily beneath the led sign nailed above it that reads ‘Caution.’ Hardly daring to breathe, you wipe your sweaty palms on your blouse and reach out, fingers stretching slowly towards the door. However, just before you can push it open, you freeze, inexplicably overcome by a sinking feeling. Darting out your tongue to nervously wet your dry lips, you stare at the tremble that's started to spread up your arm and take a bumbling step away from the vault.

“What if...What if they're-” You don't want to finish.

To your back, you hear the telltale thud of Ulthane's knee hitting the ground as he shifts. Moments later, a gentle knuckle is prodding you in the spine - perhaps as a reassurance of his presence, or perhaps to encourage you to keep going.

“Can't start thinkin' about 'what ifs' now, bonnie,” he tells you, allowing his hand to linger for a moment before pulling it away again and you can’t help but feel that it’s his way of letting you know you won’t be facing whatever lays beyond that door alone. 

Swallowing past a lump, you nod, take a steadying breath and press your shaking palm flat against the door, drawing solace from the metal's cool surface.

With agonising slowness, you push yourself against the door and it swings open to reveal the darkened room beyond, where silence is the only thing to greet you, a perfect quiet so impermeable, it makes you acutely aware of the tinnitus ringing in your ears and you have to shuffle your feet just to have something else to hear.

“Kids?” you call softly, trepidation rising with every second that passes in which you don't receive an answer. “Ashleigh? Sam?”

Nothing.

The horror of what you may have condemned these children to finally begins to sink in. Behind you, the maker’s brow furrows as you raise a hand to cover your mouth and the sight instantly has him battling down the urge to put his fist through the nearest wall, enraged at himself for not checking the area more thoroughly after he found you. More children needlessly lost, all because of him.

But then, just as your knees start to wobble, there's a rustling from deeper in the vault, somewhere too far to be illuminated by the emergency lights. Ulthane's ears perk up and a voice – small and weary – calls out, “Miss?”

Your head snaps up. You hardly dare believe you'd really heard it.

"....Archie?”

To begin with nothing more is said. Then suddenly, with the gradual steps of a cautious fawn, a shape starts to emerge from the shadows. 

Two feet clad in red sneakers appear first, followed eventually by pale, skinny legs with grazes covering both knees just below where a pair of black shorts cut off. Finally, Ulthane can make out the figure's face as it steps into the light. Wide, round glasses sit upon a freckled nose, the lenses dusty and marred with cracks that have splintered the glass, creating zigzagging spiderwebs across their surfaces.

Ulthane’s breath hitches in his throat.

He always imagined human younglings would be small, but this? He’s seen makers born bigger.

Silently, he remains crouched in the doorway, so far undetected by the minuscule boy, and observes, enraptured as you collapse onto your knees and release a cry fraught with relief. Hearing your distress, the boy staggers forwards blindly, his arms outstretched and his face crumpling before he can reach you.

“Archie, you-what happened to your glasses!” you exclaim, but your question is ignored. By the time he comes close enough for you to circle your arms around his scrawny waist, the dam has burst and he lets out a miserable sob, curling his hands into the front of your blouse and lowering himself down onto your lap.

And just like that, Ulthane’s heart soars as four more children melt out of the darkness.

You suddenly find yourself almost mowed down by Kitty and Lucia, both of whom are also crying and each girl fights for the space to loop their arms round your neck.

“Where were you!?” Kitty wails and beats her fists against your back. “You left us! You left us alone!”

At the same time, Lucia's fingernails dig like knives into the skin under your blouse but at this point, you honestly couldn't care less.

With two children buried into your shoulders and one actively trying to burrow his way inside your chest, you glance up to see the last few – Sam and Ashleigh – standing nearby. They, like the others, had rushed towards you, yet something has caused them to freeze in their tracks, their stares fixed on a point above your head. Haunted, exhausted expressions shift swiftly through confusion, dawning horror and finally, their eyes burst open wide and abject terror sweeps everything else away. You soon realise that they've just spotted what their classmates haven’t, but before you can tell them not to scream, Ashleigh's jaw drops open and she lets out a shriek so piercing, the others yelp and jerk away from you to look back at her.

Shaking his head with a gentle frown, Ulthane instinctively tries to extend a hand through the door, his fingers skirting past you and continuing on towards the diminutive girl, who gives off another screech and falls onto her backside in her haste to scramble further into the vault. Swallowing, the maker retracts his hand, glaring at it accusingly as if it were the sole reason for her fear. 

“Guys, no! It's okay!” You reach out to try and coax Sam back towards you but he remains rooted to the spot, staring silently up at the door. It's at that point Kitty, Lucia and Archie finally whirl about and look up as well, frantic to see what has their friends so badly frightened. It doesn't take long for them to find it. Realising that this is quickly getting out of hand, you stumble to your feet and spread your hands out, fingers splayed. “Don't!-”

But it's too late.

Kitty immediately sees the enormous figure crouched in the doorway and leaps from you while Archie and Lucia grab your sleeves and begin to pull you with all their might, away from Ulthane. “Run!” Archie yells, at the same time as Lucia shrieks, “Monstruo!”

You have to wince on Ulthane's behalf at that one. Although not his native language, you're fairly certain he doesn't need a translator to figure out what he'd been called.

Ulthane Blackhammer has been hurt many a time in his exceedingly long life. He's been burnt, shot at, beaten up by his own brother, taken a blade to the back more times than he'd care to admit. Yet that right there, being called a monster by a human child somehow hurts his chest worse than any blow he's ever received. Crestfallen, the maker tries to school his face into steely indifference but ends up failing miserably.

Pulling out of the kids' grasps, you once again hold out your hands in a placating gesture. “He is not a monster, he's a...a...” Frowning, you twist your head over a shoulder to look at the giant. Even with the measly light, you can see him avert his eyes and press his lips together tightly in what you assume is an effort to hide the fearsome tusks behind them. “He's one of the good guys,” you murmur at last, prompting the maker to raise his head a little and glance at you. Maybe it's your imagination or a trick of the light, but you could swear a troubled grimace darkens his features at your words. Before you can dwell on it further though, Lucia – arguably the bravest of the gathered students – stops back-peddling and gulps instead, venturing, “Is – Is he gonna eat us!?”

“What!? No, of course not!” You suddenly hesitate, looking back at the maker again. “Are you?”

Ulthane's nostrils flare as he scowls, offended by your doubt. “No!”

At his unexpected growl, the kids gasp and retreat further, prompting the giant's frustration to evaporate like water off a scorching pavement. Heaving out a great sigh, he says, far more gently, “No, lassie, I'd never hurt any of you.” He casts his eye over each human, trying his damnedest to convey complete and utter harmlessness – a difficult task for someone so much more vast than any human who ever lived. 

The children don’t seem in the least bit convinced by his sincerity.

Both the maker and yourself lock eyes for a second. Neither of you know how in the world you’re going to broach the subject of leaving. Something in the kids’ faces tells you they'd all raise a few objections about going anywhere with this strange giant, even if you say it's safe.

“Right, well. There you have it. He won’t eat you, Lucia.” Brusquely, you clap your hands together, anxious to get moving. Any longer on your feet and you may just up and die of exhaustion on the spot. 'No time for that though,' you tell yourself, somewhat bitterly, 'safety first, then sleep.'

Forcing your body to stand tall, you level a somber but weighty look at the five children, the duty you've set yourself staring right back through frightened, bleary eyes. It settles heavily on your shoulders. “Listen to me, I know you're all scared, but we can't stay here.”

“Why not!?” Kitty contests and stamps her foot. She always did try to disguise her fear with anger.

“Because we don't have any food.” Raising a hand, you start listing things off on your fingers. “There's no more water, this door – this whole building - isn't going to keep us safe for long!...But Ulthane-” Here, you pause to share a meaningful glance with the maker. “-Ulthane knows somewhere we can stay. Somewhere safer than this museum.” 

Ashleigh squeaks, looking horrified at the mere suggestion. “We’re going with him!? But, he's so-”

“Big? Yeah, I know,” you chuckle humourlessly and earn a harrumph from the man behind you, though his grumbling falls silent when you continue, “But big doesn't always mean bad. He won't hurt you, I promise.” You really hope that’s a promise he doesn’t end up breaking for you.

Oblivious to your innermost concerns, Ulthane feels a weight lift off his chest, pleased that you seem to be coming around enough to finally start trusting him. He just wishes he had half of Eideard’s know-how when it comes to dealing with younglings.

For some time, none of children move or say a word. They simply glance among one another, Ashleigh clutching onto Sam's hand like he'll disappear if she lets go, Archie cowering behind Lucia and trying to make sense of the scene behind his cracked glasses whilst the latter looks torn between believing you and believing the stories she'd read as a young girl – of ferocious giants that stomp around and terrorise humans, gobbling them up whenever they get hungry. At her side, Kitty is desperately trying to jut her chin up at Ulthane in an attempt to appear brave, despite how her limbs tremble and her face is streaked with salty tears. 

It occurs to you, not for the first time, that you are way out of your depth. For goodness sake, you're just the art technician! You're only supposed to tidy up after the class, wash paint brushes and mind the lessons if their teacher has to pop out to the main office! By your very nature you aren't an authority figure to these kids. Not quite their teacher, not quite their friend....

A weary sigh blows past your lips and you slowly lower yourself onto one knee, mirroring Ulthane's stance. “Do you guys trust me?” you ask out of the blue.

Caught off guard by your question, the children all recoil and glance uncertainly amongst one another, the same question entering all of their heads at once. 

Do they trust you?

You who allowed Ashleigh to seek refuge in the art room during lunch where she could be left to read her books in peace. Or when Kitty had come storming in one day like a roiling tempest, itching for a fight and you'd grabbed some acrylic paint, a large canvas and told her to attack it with everything she had. The mess was hell to clean up but she'd left that class with a tranquil smile on her face and a sprinkle of blue in her hair.

And then there's Archie, who'd crumpled to nothing in your arms one afternoon and wept into your shoulder. He wouldn't tell you what had happened. He wouldn't say a word, and eventually, you gave up asking and simply held him close, telling him that it would all get better soon.

Every child in this room, for one reason or another, has had something happen that drew them down into the underbelly of the school where the art room waited and in it, they always found you.

Maybe it's because you aren't their teacher, not really. You like them, you liked most of the students and you never tried to hide that for the sake of preserving some inflated sense of pride.

After another few seconds of quiet contemplation, all five of them look back at you. The decision seems to be unanimous. Cautiously, they nod their heads. 

“Then trust me now,” you breathe, on the brink of begging, “We have to get out of here. And like it or not, Ulthane is our best chance for survival.”

To the maker's surprise, that single, unassuming question appears to do the trick. Almost right away, the younglings start edging closer and you smile, stretching out a hand and offering it to Archie, who squints at it for a second before he plucks up the courage to lean forwards and grasp it in his own. 

Giving the boy’s fingers a light squeeze, you turn to Ulthane. “Okay, I think we're ready. We'll follow you out.”

In seconds, the maker’s stomach twists with worry - ‘No, not worry’ - he stubbornly corrects himself, but rather, something more along the lines of anticipation as he realises that in order to get these younglings back to the Tree, they’re going to have to leave the museum and venture out into the wild and dangerous city beyond. 

It has to be done, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it. In truth, he fears what might happen if something goes wrong and one of the humans is injured, what will he do? Will he be able to hold it together and get the survivors back to the tree or will he be consumed by the desire to tear their attackers to pieces? That desperation, that primal instinct to protect the young is already clawing raggedly at his insides, leaving an uncomfortable, squirming sensation in his gut that won’t be shaken loose no matter how much he wills it away. 

Determined not to let his agitation known, he screws one eye shut as he hoists himself back onto his feet and twists about, his proportions large and awkward in the confines of the hall. Like you though, he's eager to get the children out of that cramped room and somewhere he can actually see them and get to them if they're in danger or worse, hurt.

The second he moves, Archie’s hand clamps down around yours, though you can understand the boy’s trepidation when Ulthane’s spine is to you, leaving you with an uninterrupted view of the gigantic hammer that he's slung across his back. All you can do is turn to the kids and offer them what you hope is a reassuring grin. “Okay, here we go. Does everyone have all their things?” You can't imagine there'll be much use for sketch books and pencil cases in this situation, but you aren't about to tell them to leave their only worldly possessions behind. After having to wait for Sam and Kitty to dash back and retrieve their discarded rucksacks, you lead the gaggle of children out and into the hallway, dragging Archie by the hand with the other four following almost toe to heel.

At the set of double doors that open out into the main room, you slow everyone to a halt as Ulthane bends himself down to squeeze through.

“Try not to get stuck again, okay?” you warn him, failing to hide a smirk when he swings his massive head around and grumbles at you lowly for a second before he ducks through to the other side, this time without a hitch.

One ear trained on the footsteps pattering along behind him and one listening out for trouble, he cuts straight across the main hall, his head periscoping this way and that until he focuses in on the collapsed entrance you’d used to get inside. Dimly, he wonders if you’d be more willing to accept a lift from him this time around? 

All of a sudden, a shadow skitters across the opening, moving fast and low like some insect crawling about between the bricks and rebar.

In a flash, Ulthane jerks to a halt and throws his arm out protectively, stilling you and the children in your tracks.

“What!?” you hiss, “What is it?”

There's no response from the maker at first, he's too busy raising his head to sniff at the air, nostrils twitching. Then, quite abruptly, he drops his sights to the gap in the wall and peels his lips back over formidable, gleaming teeth. “Trouble,” he growls, low and threatening, but before you can ask him to elaborate, he takes several, measured steps backwards, shuffling his enormous boots towards you until you're forced to back up with him or risk getting a nudge from his iron-plated heel.

To say you're perturbed by the sudden change is a gross understatement. “Ulthane, what are you doing!?”

Once again, he doesn't reply, and instead reaches up to wrap his fingers around the handle of his war-hammer, swinging it into both hands, the weapon's bulbous head casting a vast shadow over your little group. Behind you, several pairs of eyes widen in horror and you feel a tug on your shirt sleeve as someone latches on. “Miss? What's happening!?” It sounds like Sam. All you can do is shush the children as you're continuously herded backwards by an increasingly bristling maker.

The sound of pebbles being knocked loose snags your attention and you squint through the colossal legs in front of you, spotting movement in the gap as something stalks inside the museum. Its shape is difficult to make out, but whatever it is stands upright on two legs and the top of its spine curves over, painfully contorting the figure's stance into something misshapen and crooked. But at a glance, it could almost pass for a....

“Wait a minute,” you murmur, furrowing your brow and planting your free hand on the maker's boot, calming him down a fraction, “Wait just a minute, is that a-!?” All the breath leaves your lungs as you excitedly smack your palm against his ankle. “Ulthane! It's alright! It's just another human!” The idea that someone else could have survived this nightmare is almost too much for you, sending your head in a dizzy spin for a few seconds. 

To your dismay however, Ulthane doesn't seem so pleased. “That's no human, lass,” he says out the side of his mouth.

“What? Of course they're human, look at them!”

At the sound of your voice, the figure's head snaps in your direction and it freezes, as if it were no more than a statue, no movement, no sound, just the moonlight at its back and the sickly sweet stench of rotting flesh blowing in with the night's wind.

“A-aren’t they?” Just like that, you curse yourself for praising the darkness outside. Being unable to clearly see what’s about to tear your apart is maddening.

Letting a dangerous breath hiss through his teeth, Ulthane backs you up another few metres until your backside hits something solid and you jump, twisting about to see that you and the kids have been corralled up against the circular reception desk.

“Remember what I told you about the Sufferin'?” he asks suddenly without taking his eyes off the creature, “About how they take what's dead-?”

You cast your mind back even as a cold tendril of dread winds around your chest. “-And bring them back...Oh, god.”

In poetic conjunction with your sudden realisation, the creature blocking your exit throws it head back and unleashes a howl so chilling, Archie lets go of your hand to cover his ears while the others let out startled bleats and begin to cry. The sound of their fear hardens your resolve and, without warning, you whirl about and grab the closest child – who happens to be Lucia – underneath her arms, hoisting her up on top of the ringed desk.

“Get behind there!” you bark, indicating the space inside before leaning down to get Sam.

Unbeknownst to you, the maker standing to your rear is slowly working himself into a bloodthirsty frenzy. Of course...Of course the very thing that crawled through that opening just had to be one of the swarm, an undead member of the very species he’s currently trying to save. Though small and relatively weak by themselves, when a group of them get together, they can become as deadly and tenacious as any demon. And that’s the thing about the swarm. There’s never just one. Hence the name. 

Every single muscle in Ulthane’s hefty body is wound tighter than a coiled spring in anticipation of a fight, and all because behind him, there are six humans - six, innocent, petrified humans who never asked for any of this to happen, five of whom are small enough to be engulfed in the palm of his hand. This new world is unkind to small things. They can't protect themselves, so they have to be protected.

Up ahead, crawling through the rubble and dust like an oversized cockroach, is a threat - a threat to his charges. Unfortunately, it isn't the only one of its kind.

As he feared, another shadow flits along the ground and he has to tear his eyes off the first figure to see a second emerge into the museum's makeshift entrance. Then another appears, and another....and another...

Your voice cracks above the snaps of teeth and scrabbling of long fingernails on the marble floor. “Ulthane!?” 

“I see ‘em,” he growls, the blood in his veins reaching boiling point.  

One of the human younglings lets a sob escape their throats and it serves as kindling for the fiery rage that blazes in Ulthane's chest. 

“So! You bastards want a taste of human, eh!?” he jeers suddenly, eliciting snarls and growls from the aggressors. They slither closer, their hunger for a fresh meal curtailing their wariness of his immense hammer. Teeth bared and feet planted squarely between you and the swarm, Ulthane puffs his chest out, and you can't help but to be reminded of a bird fluffing itself up to try and ward predators away from its chicks. 

“Well then,” he continues and a dark smirk creeps onto his face, “You're goin' to have to go through me first.”

[thebuckybrigade]

Heatwave Part 4

It’s hereeeee….the smuuutttt you’ve been waiting for!! Part Four!

Are you ready kids?! Warnings include; smut, language, daddy kink, hair pulling, spanking, age difference(no underage), feels! You should definitely listen to “Guys My Age” and “Unholy” by hey violet for the smut...

Enjoyyyyy 

With graduation just around the corner you were more nervous than you had ever been. Ellie and you had both been accepted to Tulane University, you for psychology, her for biochemistry, and after very little debate would be living together in one of the apartments on campus.

But first, you had to get your diploma.

You had your outfit laid out for the day; a bright yellow sundress with a square neck that would emphasize your warm sepia skin and keep you cool in the sweltering heat.

Instead of wearing heels or wedges like every other girl you had chosen sandals, knowing that standing and walking for so long would inevitably leave you exhausted.

Josh and your mom had promised that you guys would go for milkshakes after the ceremony though, so it would be something to look forward to, even without your dad.

His tour had been extended by a year, and as you put on your makeup for the ceremony, you paused to stare at his photo, heart aching. You wished more than anything he could have been there to see you graduate.

Sighing heavily, you blinked away the tears that had formed and sniffled, trying to keep your heart light. He’d be home in three more months, just in time to see you off to college.

It would have to be good enough.

You fidgeted as the names of your peers were called, one by one, their diplomas handed over with a smile and a pause for a photograph. With a last name starting with a Z, you were dead last to get your diploma.

At least you could cheer for your friends, you decided.

As your row was ushered towards the stairs you glanced at the rows of parent and families watching and caught the eye of your mom, your lips splitting in a grin when you saw her dabbing at her eyes already.

Josh was beside her, recording the whole thing on his phone, and waved to you when he saw you were looking. Quickly, you waved back and then turned back as the person ahead of you processed onto the stage.

When your name was called you concentrated on not tripping over the black gown that was three inches too long and seemingly determined to get caught on the stairs.

Looking up towards where the Dean was supposed to be, your heart stopped, so too did your feet.

“Dad?!” you whispered, stunned. 

He grinned at you, decked out in his dress uniform, holding your diploma and somewhere distantly you could hear people cheering. When your heart kicked hard in your chest you sprinted across the stage and into his arms which had opened wide to gather you, a sobbing cry of joy breaking in your throat as he lifted you from your feet.

“Oh honey,” he whispered, voice cracking as his tears fell.

Your hand clung tighter to the back of his uniform and you inhaled greedily, trying to take it all back in, every inch of this man who had been gone for so long.

Distantly you could hear people crying and cheering and you thought your dad might have been crying too, but after a few moments he pulled away and the only sign he had was a wet sheen to his cheeks.

Smiling so widely at you it must have hurt, he stepped back and tucked your diploma against his chest with one hand, his heels clicking together as he stood at attention, his other hand coming up to salute you solemnly.

Heart aching with joy, you quickly mimicked the stature and returned the salute before he relaxed and offered the diploma to you.

“Congrats mija,” he murmured over the cheers. 

“Oh fuck, oh, oh, yea, you’re so good baby!”

You moaned in agreement, even though the guy atop you wasn’t really doing much for you. He had gone down on you for all of five minutes before thrusting into you, and with each minute, you were sure you were going to have to fake an orgasm.

As he grunted and screwed up his face you quickly did the same, making all the right noises so he thought he had gotten you off. When he collapsed on top of you, you pushed him off and went to the bathroom, body thrumming with need.

It would be another night with your vibrator and thoughts of Josh. 

“So, this is the new boyfriend, huh?” Josh mused, peering inquisitively at your boyfriend, lips turned down at the corners in a frown as he extended his hand in a greeting that didn’t seem so friendly to you.

Your dad called to your boyfriend from across the pool, waving him over to help carry food out for the barbeque. As he went, Josh was still frowning.

“He’s older than you,” he commented gruffly.

You snorted and sipped on your beer, nodding, “Yea, well, he’s a Teaching Assistant, he’s older,” you replied sarcastically.

Josh turned to eyeball you, mouth pursing in annoyance. “Has he dated students before?” he asked sharply.

Rolling your eyes you shook your head, “No. I asked.”

“What if he’s lying?” Josh pushed and you huffed angrily, stepping closer to try and contain your argument.

“Maybe he is! But we get along really well and he cares for me. He’s sweet and funny and he’s ambitious and he actually knows what he’s doing when he fucks me,” you snapped, glaring up at Josh challengingly, watching as his eyes widened in shock.

His mouth dropped open and then closed, his gaze flitting away as he lifted his beer to take a long swallow, his throat working hard. Clearing his throat, he nodded, “Right, well, that all sounds good,” he agreed quietly before he cleared his throat again and walked away, walking over to where your boyfriend and dad were putting burgers on the grill.

Frustration swelled within you; would he ever see you as anything but a kid?

Looking around in wonder at the lights of Tokyo, you grinned, so damned glad that you had decided to do a study abroad semester. It hadn’t been required at all, but some of the new thoughts of psychology were coming from Japan and you wanted to learn as much as you could.

When you went home this summer, you would only have one year left of college.

Taking pictures of the city and every amazing thing you saw, you saved them all to send in an email to Josh. When it had come time for you to leave, your parents had tried so hard to convince you not to go, but not him.

He had told you how amazing he thought you were to go do something so brave and exciting. Before you had walked towards security he had grinned softly and pressed a kiss to your cheek murmuring, “Go do big things darlin. Try not to forget about this old man though.”

Clutching his thick biceps you had turned your cheek to press against his for a moment before kissing his firm jaw, hearing his slow steady inhale as you whispered, “I could never forget you.”

When you looked back from the other side of security, he was still there, hands in his jeans pockets, watching you.

You shared a short, sweet smile before he lifted a hand free and waved abruptly, and then, as a crowd of people passed, he was gone. 

Rolling your suitcases through the airport, you grinned when you saw the large group of people waiting with a huge sign, your name bedazzled and glittery. Ellie shrieked and shoved the balloons she was holding at your mom before sprinting towards you, nearly knocking you over in her fearsome hug.

Laughing loudly, you dropped your duffle bag and hugged her back, running a hand over her hair and marveling over the height she had grown and the light streaks in her hair.

Soon you were enveloped in hugs from your dad, mom and Josh, everyone pressing kisses to your cheeks and marveling over how good you looked, despite being exhausted and travel weary.

Your bags were distributed and when you were in the backseat of your parent’s car with your head resting on Ellie’s shoulder, your eyes began to drift shut. By the time you made it back to your house you were half asleep and dazed as your parents carried your bags inside.

Josh took up the rear as Ellie guided you upstairs, chattering excitedly about a party she wanted you to go to that night. Sitting down on your bed, you smiled tiredly up at her as your parents retreated and Josh joined them downstairs, leaving you two alone.

“It’s going to be awesome!” she declared, “You know the guys from Tau Alpha? They’re hosting it!”

You smiled weakly and nodded, “It sounds fun El, but I’m jet lagged as fuck right now. I think I’m going to go to bed and just try to sleep it off, okay?” you murmured softly.

She gasped and nodded, sinking down onto the bed beside you, taking your hand, “Oh my god of course. I’m so sorry. It’s their thirsty Thursday party, so it’s just like any other. Maybe if you’re feeling better tomorrow night we can go out, just you and I?” she suggested, looking hopeful.

You nodded, giving her a weak smile, “That sounds good.”

Sighing in relief, she hugged you tightly before pressing a kiss to your hair and standing. “You should take a shower, have something to eat, and sleep,” she advised, “You look fuckin tired.”

Laughing tiredly you nodded, eyes already heavy. When the door shut, you crawled beneath the covers and fell asleep, so happy to be home you had a smile on your face. 

Standing in the club with Ellie, you were really starting to regret going out. You were still tired, but you had promised you would go out, and now that you were here, it just didn’t feel like the right place to be.

Sighing, you watched as Ellie chatted up a guy that you thought was objectively pretty hot, but you didn’t really see the appeal in. After a few more hours of dancing and drinks, Ellie was apologizing for leaving with the guy, and you were heading home in a Lyft.

When you pulled up in front of your houses you waited till the Lyft was gone to move towards either house, pushing open the gate of your front yard. Sighing as you looked up at the dark, empty house, you glanced over at Ellie and Josh’s house and wondered if he was still awake.

You parents had planned a vacation together that started two days after you got home--the cheapest flights they had told you--and you were actually happy for them. After so many years apart, they finally had the time off together without either job interrupting.

Pulling your heels off, you walked over to the gate to the pool and pushed it open, smiling at the squeak. No matter how many times Josh W-D40′d the damn thing or replaced the hinges...it always squeaked.

Glancing towards the house, you sighed when you saw it was dark too. Sitting down at the pool edge, you slowly lowered your feet in, sighing in relief at the temperate sensation.

Leaning back on your palms, you swung your feet through the water, peering up at the sky through drink hazed vision. You hadn’t had much, just enough to be buzzed a little, a warmth in your blood that felt good.

The sound of the patio door opening pulled your attention away from the sky overhead to where Josh was emerging in his grey t-shirt and cotton pants, his hair delightfully ruffled from sleep. 

“Hey darlin,” he greeted, smiling sleepily at you, “thought you were out with Ellie?” he asked, voice gravelly.

You nodded and looked back down to your feet, kicking them through the water as he sat down next to you, rolling the legs of his pants up before slipping his in beside you.

“She met someone,” you supplied, rolling a shoulder. “I was tired anyway.”

His elbow nudged yours and you glanced over to find his gaze filled with concern, “You okay?” he asked quietly, “You happy to be home?”

Nodding, you shrugged and then sighed, looking up at the stars. You could see him do the same beside you and to your surprise he didn’t ask anything else as you gathered your thoughts.

“I guess...it’s just so different being home. It feels like things don’t change here,” you admitted.

Josh laughed softly, “Things changed, you saw the news,” he murmured.

You nodded, lifting your brows.

“What about your boyfriend, that teaching assistant?” he asked, sounding unhappy.

Looking down from the stars you turned to peer at him and found him staring at the water. “We broke up before I left. He was sleeping with a freshman. You were right,” you admitted reluctantly.

He scoffed and you saw his hands clench into fists in his lap, his head turning to the side so you couldn’t see his face. “I’m sorry darlin. You deserve a better man than that,” he told you.

“I deserve a man,” you agreed, “I deserve someone emotionally mature and sure of who they are. Someone who knows what they want in life and from a relationship.”

Josh nodded and glanced over at you, “You always said you didn’t like boys your age,” he murmured, smirking faintly.

You nodded and lifted a foot out of the water to watch the drops pearl and run down your skin. Beside you, you could feel his eyes on you too, and in a pique of playfulness you flicked the water towards him.

Josh flinched and then laughed softly, “Don’t start that shit, I thought I broke you and Ellie of that a long time ago,” he joked.

Turning towards him you grinned and trailed a hand through the water, watching as his eyes followed it. “You might have stopped me, but you never broke me,” you told him, your voice far huskier and laced with innuendo than you had meant it to be.

Something flickered in Josh’s eyes and he leaned forward to smirk at you, scant inches separating you now.

“Go on, I dare you.”

I stared into her eyes, watching as she contemplated the challenge for a moment, her pupils wide and dark. I could see in the hollow of her throat how her pulse thrummed and something in me wanted to reach out and trace my fingertips over it, to feel that hot rush of blood and electrical impulses beneath my hand.

I didn’t understand these emotions, these drives.

Ever since she had brought home that miserable excuse for a boyfriend from college I had been frustrated and anxious, constantly wondering if he was treating her right, if she was happy.

It wasn’t the same as when she had been a kid--no this was something else, and I was pretty sure I knew what it was...even if I didn’t want to admit it.

When her hand flashed forward and splashed me with water, I laughed and sputtered, leaning in to retaliate, using both hands to splash her with water. When we finally called a truce, water dripped from my hair and her cream colored dress was plastered to her skin--completely see through.

Blushing, I rose to my feet and offered her a hand, “Come on, let’s get you into something dry,” I offered. She stared up at me, eyes wide and dark, her makeup smudged around the edges.

After just a moment she took the hand and let me pull her up, her palm soft against mine. Instead of letting it go, I held onto it, relishing the warmth, the silky heat.

When we approached Ellie’s room she paused and shook her head, “Ellie is a little shorter than me, can I borrow something from you?” she asked, peering up at me through the gloom of the hallway.

“Uh yea, sure,” I murmured, tugging on her hand to lead her to my bedroom. Once inside I let her go and crossed to my dresser, hurriedly pawing through until I had found a flannel shirt and shorts that would work for her.

Turning around, I found her standing close--too close. My stomach fluttered and I took a half step back, trying to get my head under control as I offered her the clothes.

She took them with a small smile before turning away and looking at me over her shoulder, pulling her hair aside. “Can you help me with the zipper?” she asked, voice barely a whisper, and I felt it like a match to my blood, lighting the blaze had been trying to avoid.

Swallowing hard, I clenched my hands at my sides, fighting the urge to do as she asked and pull the zipper down.

Why? It’s just a zipper! You’re not doing anything wrong...but I want to...I want to take that dress off her and touch every part of her body and I can’t because it’s not OK.

The internal battle raged and I inhaled raggedly, my gaze locked on hers. She didn’t look away, instead, she reached a hand back towards me, a pleadingly sultry look in her eyes, as though she needed me as she whispered, “Josh.”

My resilience snapped and I stepped forward, fingers trembling a little as I slid the zipper down her spine, watching as her silky skin was revealed.

Fingers trailing behind it, I felt the shudder run over her skin as my breath hit her skin.

“Beautiful.”

You shuddered in disbelief.

Was this actually happening?

Was Josh actually undressing you?

This had to be a wet dream. You were totally going to wake up in your bed with soaked underwear and a throbbing ache in your pussy because there was no way this was real.

His hands pushed at your dress until it slid down to the floor, leaving you in just your bra and underwear and maybe...maybe this was real.

You shivered again and his hands were gentle when they turned you towards him, his eyes soft and warm with equal parts desire and concern.

“Are you okay darlin?” he asked, one large palm cupping your cheek gently.

That warm, wiggling thing that had been in your chest for years made its presence known again and you inhaled unsteadily, tears threatening for some reason.

Maybe it was because you had wanted this for so long.

Maybe it was because of the way he was looking at you.

Maybe it was because you had loved him, for as long as you had known, even when you didn’t know it was this kind of love.

“Y-yeah,” you gasped, nodding jerkily, lips quivering into a smile. “I’m okay,” you assured him. When he still looked concerned, you stepped closer and slid your hands under the hem of his soaked t-shirt, letting your palms connect with his stomach like you had imagined so many times.

He inhaled sharply and you pushed gently at the shirt, lifting until he shifted so you could remove it. His gaze was dark as you reached for his cotton pants, and when your fingers went to the drawstring, he grabbed you, pausing your forward motion. 

“I-you should think about this,” he murmured, voice gravelly and uncertain.

Frowning, you tilted your head to study him, “Why?”

He ducked his head and then looked back up at you, giving you a resigned, abashed smile, “I’m not young anymore darlin. I can’t keep up like those boys you dated. Things, they aren’t the same,” he murmured, sounding almost embarrassed.

Nodding slowly, you tugged on your wrist and he let you go, looking relieved and disappointed at the same time. When you reached back to unhook your bra and drop it to the floor, his eyes grew wide, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides rapidly.

Pushing at his shoulders, you guided him until his knees hit the bed and he sat down abruptly. Following him, you straddled his lap, biting back a moan as nearly every fantasy you had ever had came true.

Running your hands over his bare, muscular chest, you rolled your hips into his, letting out a breathy moan. Josh’s eyes locked on yours, his lips parting as he breathed out unsteadily.

Lowering your head, you wound an arm around his neck and up the back of his head to tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging on it like you had always imagined, his low groan eliciting an excited roll of your hips before your lips met his.

It started slow. Curious. Learning.

Then...he grew confident and his hands slid to pull your hips against him, one of his large palms flat against your back as his mouth devoured you.

Moaning excitedly, you rolled your hips into him, feeling his erection growing beneath you. When he rocked his hips into you steadily, you moaned at the sensation, panting against his mouth desperately, “More, please.”

Before you knew it, he was gripping you tightly and rolling you onto the bed, hips rolling into yours as his lips pressed along the column of your throat. You gasped loudly as his teeth pulled your skin and he sucked, the sensation throbbing and pulsing through your belly.

Whimpering, you bucked into him, desperate already for more. “Please, please,” you gasped.

He chuckled against your breastbone and shook his head, “Patience little one,” he entreated.

Before you could reply his mouth was on your breast, lips brushing along the soft skin and teasing you. Fire raced under your skin, the inferno growing with each touch.

Teeth marking the tender skin of your breast, he carefully licked over the spot, chuckling when you whined and rolled your head against the mattress, arching your body up, aching for more.

“You’re so needy little one,” he breathed, thumb ghosting over your nipple. Pleasure ached under his touch and you nodded, gasping out another please. He complied and continued lightly grazing your nipples until you were shaking, writhing and begging for more.

“Please Josh, I need...I need...”

He hummed and took one nipple into his mouth, sucking hard.

“Ahhhhh!”

He continued until the pleasure was so acute it was almost painful and when he released the nipple you gasped, whether in relief or dismay, you could no longer tell.

There was no hesitation before he took the other between his lips and did the same, one of his large hands pushing down on your hip as you cried out loudly, trying to buck into him and get some friction for release.

It was right there, you were dancing on the razor’s edge and you just needed a little more...

Josh squeezed the tip of your nipple between his teeth and captured the other with his thumb and forefinger, growling as you arched and let out a broken cry of his name, a shiver of a tiny release running through your body.

When he let go, you gasped loudly, chest heaving, rubbing your thighs together desperately. Digging your fingers into his hair, you yanked his mouth to yours and swallowed his moan, barely able to breath let alone kiss him, but god, god, you needed him to know how good that had been, how much it had meant.

He pulled away so you both could breathe and you panted, reaching down to grab his ass and pull him against you, whimpering. “I need you, please, please,” you begged.

Josh nodded unsteadily and rose to his knees before sitting back to pull off his pants, tossing them aside. Before you could really even take him in, he was leaning down and pulling off your underwear, tossing those aside too.

When you met his gaze, it was dark, hungry.

“You’re so wet little one. Is that all for me?” he asked and you nodded eagerly, arching your hips towards him in invitation.

He grinned slowly and you didn’t know how, but even more heat curled in your belly. There was something so fuckin dark and dirty about that possessive look on his face that just did it for you.

His large hands pushed your thighs apart and one of his fingers trailed through your soaked folds, a soft wet sound coming from them at the touch. “Oh baby,” he moaned, “I’m gonna eat this pussy up,” he told you before he leaned down, going onto his belly and drawing your legs up over his shoulders.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned, watching as he kissed your thigh, and then moaned louder as his tongue swept over your folds and over your clit. His fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs as he sucked your soaked lips into his mouth, tongue sliding between them.

Your own whimpers and moans were nothing compared to the hungry groans coming from him as he fucked his tongue into you, his strong hands holding you down when your hips shivered in delight.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh Josh, please,” you gasped, feeling another, stronger orgasm building.

As he continued to fuck his tongue into you his thumb stroked over your clit, rubbing firm circles until you were gasping and clutching at the sheets, heart thundering in your chest as you clung to the precipice, barely hanging on.

He pulled his mouth away and you whined at the loss, his thumb slowing so it wasn’t enough to get you there.

“Come on little one, come on my tongue,” he ordered and then delved back in, tongue replacing his thumb and two fingers thrusting into you. Your wail of pleasure seemed to please him and he quickly found the rough little spot that so many other men had struggled to locate.

Within moments you were incoherent, shaking and sobbing out his name, your voice one long wavering wail. You could feel it coming, and it was like fire in a tidal wave, unstoppable--and you weren’t sure you would survive, because who could?

As it crested you tossed your head and wailed into the crook of your elbow, thighs shuddering as a rush of wet came from between your thighs.

Josh groaned and lapped at your pussy, eagerly licking until you were shaking and weak. Slowly, he kissed up your body, nipping and sucking at your skin, leaving marks as he went.

His lips closed over yours and you met his kiss eagerly, not caring that he tasted like your cum. Wrapping your legs around his hips you rocked into him, moaning when you finally felt his cock against you.

“Please,” you begged against his lips, ”Please I need you.”

He nodded and rocked back a little, taking your hand from his bicep to where he rested between your thighs. Your fingers tangled together as he guided you to grip him, letting out a groan.

His gaze met yours and he grinned, “I got a vasectomy after Ellie, but we can still use a condom if you want,” he offered gruffly.

Leaning up, you kissed him and shook your head. “I’m clean, as long as you are?” you murmured, sighing in relief when he nodded. With that, you turned your gaze to where his cock rested in your grip and rubbed your thumb over the swollen, reddened tip, eager to have its thick length inside you.

Guiding him to your wet entrance, you both groaned as his thick head slipped in. Falling back to your elbows, you watched as he pushed in, moaning as his thick cock spread you open.

“Fuck, oh my god, that’s so good,” you gasped, head falling back as you breathed unsteadily. When you looked back up Josh’s face was screwed up in concentration and he was moving slowly, steadily as he withdrew and then thrust in slowly.

Whining softly, you reached out to grab his thigh, squeezing at the thick muscle there until he paused and looked at you, sweat beading on his brow. Smiling at him, you leaned up and huffed as the angle rubbed so good.

“You don’t have to be slow or gentle,” you told him, lifting a brow.

His own brows rose and he grabbed you by the back of the neck, holding onto you as he fell forward, letting his weight onto you, pressing you into the mattress.

“Oh yea little one?” he growled, sucking a spot onto your neck, “You want me to fuck you hard?” he demanded and you moaned, nodding.

“Show you how a man fucks?” he ground out, as he rolled his hips, grinding them into you so he was deep, deeper than he had been before and you saw fucking stars.

“Oh yea...oh, fuck, make me yours,” you begged, clinging to his broad back, nails digging into his skin.

Josh groaned loudly and snapped his hips into yours, his thrust hard. Your answering moan seemed to give him what he was looking for because he adjusted your thighs around his hips and picked up the pace, fucking into you so hard you could distantly feel yourself sliding up the mattress.

Yesssss...oh my god...perfect....your mind was a desire clogged haze, and you were moaning his name nearly constantly, but god, was it good.

Distantly you could feel an orgasm building, but you almost didn’t want it, you just wanted this...even as your lungs burned and your body seemed to throb for release.

Nothing in your brain seemed to work and your mouth was just a mess of pleading nonsense until...

“Oh god, daddy, please, fuck, please, harder!”

Josh slowed and then stopped, pulling back to stare down at you, his expression shocked and aroused.

Your stomach dropped and you hastily scrambled away, “I, uh, should I not have?” you asked hesitantly.

He stared at you and then reached out, fingers brushing over your cheek, shaking his head. “No, it was perfect,” he assured you, voice gravelly with need as he leaned towards you.

His lips were on yours a moment later, his mouth hungry as he groaned and gripped your waist tightly. Pulling back he eyed you hungrily, “On your hands and knees,” he ordered.

With a needy little whimper you complied, arching your back towards him, hips swaying slightly. When he didn’t touch you or enter you again you looked over your shoulder to find him staring at you, awed.

“Daddy, please, I need you,” you whimpered, arching towards him, giving him a pleading look.

He met your gaze and the awe disappeared, replaced with a smirk. “I know little one. Patience,” he encouraged.

You moaned and dropped your head, “Don’t tease me,” you muttered.

There was a soft swooshing noise and then a crack! followed by a sting of pain across your ass, eliciting a sharp gasp from you. Hastily, you looked back at Josh as the pain diffused into heat and spread, and suddenly, you didn’t mind so much that he had spanked you.

“Daddy,” you breathed, your gaze holding his, and he grunted, palming his cock for a moment before he rubbed a hand on your ass, soothing you.

“I’ve got you little one,” he murmured before he dealt out more strikes to each cheek, his blows solid and the heat lasting. When he had done ten you were shaking and you could feel your pussy clenching around nothing, desperate for something to fuck.

“Please, fuck me,” you begged, pleading with him over your shoulder.

He was breathing unsteadily, and moved quickly, as eager as you were it seemed. His cock slipped against your slippery folds before he thrust in slowly, his large palm at the small of your back comforting.

You both moaned as he began thrusting again, one hand on your hip, the other winding your hair in his grasp and pulling so your back was arched. As his thrusts gained speed you moaned louder and louder, fingers digging into the mattress.

“Fuck! Yes daddy! Oh god, like that!”

“Oh god little one, you feel so good!”

Josh groaned as your pussy clenched and fluttered around him, an orgasm passing like lightning so neither of you were prepared. He thrust harder, seeming determined to fuck you into the mattress and you wailed with pleasure, loving it.

You had pictured this for years, and maybe it was wrong, but goddamn it felt so fuckin right.

Josh thrust into you hard and stopped, eliciting a loud groan from both of you as he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you upright, your back against his chest.

Nudging your thigs apart, you could feel him nod against your shoulder, “There you go little one, just like that,” he encouraged, using his other hand to spread you wider.

Whimpering at the stretch--it burned so good--you rolled your head back onto his shoulder as you sank further down onto his cock. Josh slid his hand up your slick belly, his forearm resting against your breastbone as his large hand circled your throat loosely.

“Come on now, I want you to come all over my cock,” he growled in your ear and you moaned, nodding in agreement, rolling your hips eagerly.

A moment later you were crying out as he thrust harder than he hand been before, his arm holding you down at the waist, keeping you in place as he slammed his cock into you.

The pleasure was so all consuming you felt drunk, unable to move, only hold on desperately to the arm around your waist as he plowed into you.

“That’s it little one, just take it. I’ve got you,” Josh growled, his mouth right next to your ear. His hand at your throat reached up to turn your head so he could kiss you and you lazily returned the gesture, drunk on the taste of him, the feel of him surrounding you.

Pressing his forehead into your temple, he grunted as he thrust, groaning loudly. “Oh fuck little one, I’m gonna come,” he rasped and you moaned, digging your fingers into his forearm.

His grip changed and he slid his hand at your waist down to where you were joined and began rubbing on your clit, his groan loud in your ear as your pussy clenched around his cock.

You didn’t even have the energy to cry out anymore, each breath felt like fire. “Oh...oh daaaaaddy,” you moaned, shaking in his arms as your orgasm rolled forward, unstoppable.

Josh groaned your name and his thrust grew harder as his fingers rubbed your clit, both of you so close. His fingers at your throat tightened until your breath was just a little harder to draw and the tension in your body snapped.

Spine arching, the sound of his cock slamming into you grew wetter with the sound of your release, and you could feel it coating your thighs, dripping down over his.

“Josh...oh yes...daddy, Josh,” you gasped, trembling in his arms as he groaned loudly, hips stuttering as he came, thick hot ropes of cum coating your pussy. As his thrusts slowed you could feel it trickling out and trembled, the aftershocks of your release still hitting you.

His arms were still around you as you collapsed together onto the mattress, his large body covering yours, one knee between your legs as your pulse pounded through every inch of your body.

The sound of your mutual heavy breathing filled the room, and you could feel Josh’s heart beating rapidly against your back, his breath panting against the sweaty skin of your back.

When chills began to run over your skin from the chill, Josh rolled off you and pulled the sheets up around you both, his face soft with concern. “You ok darlin?” he asked softly, running his fingers over your jaw and pushing sweaty strands of hair out of your face.

Pleasure warmed that spot in your chest and you nodded, turning your cheek into his touch, “Yea I’m perfect,” you told him, reaching out to lay a hand on his waist, “I’d be better if you came here and kept me warm,” you murmured softly, smiling shyly at him.

He smiled warmly and slid closer, wrapping you in his arms, and you tucked your head under his chin, sighing in contentment. His large hands spread over your back, rubbing soothing circles as he made a soft humming sound.

“Are you ok?” you asked, tilting your chin to peer up at him curiously, hopefully.

Josh inhaled slowly and then nodded, smiling softly. “I wasn’t...I didn’t expect this,” he told you quietly, “I never thought of you like this when you were a kid,” he reassured you, looking worried. “I’m not a pervert.”

He looked surprised when you laughed, brow furrowing in confusion until you laid a hand on his cheek and explained, “I know Josh. I was the one who wanted you, I always did,” you told him.

You frowned for a moment and bit your lip, “Do you regret this? I mean, is it just a one time thing?” you asked, almost too scared to hear the answer.

Josh looked like he was pondering the situation for a moment and then shook his head, “No darlin, I don’t regret this. Even if I never expected it, I don’t regret it. And I certainly don’t want it to be just once,” he told you, looking at you just as nervously as you were peering at him.

“What do you want?” he asked.

You leaned in and kissed him softly, fingers twining through his hair as you held onto him, lips curling into a smile as you pulled away, “I just want you,” you whispered.

You could feel him smile too and buried your face into his neck as his arms tightened around you. When your phone buzzed a few minutes later, you rolled over to dig it out of your purse, holding the sheets to your chest as you read.

Ellie had texted.

Hey girl, I’m sorry I bailed on you earlier. I’m on my way home, you want to have a sleepover and eat ice cream and just talk?

You stared at the screen for a minute and Josh sidled up behind you, arms wrapping around your waist as he nuzzled at your neck, placing soft kisses to your skin.

“What’s up?” he asked quietly, peering over your shoulder at the phone.

“Ellie’s on her way home,” you told him and felt him stiffen.

Turning to look him in the eye you swallowed hard, “What are we going to do now?” you asked.

You could see a range of emotions flitting over his face before his jaw firmed and he gave you a determined look, eyes warm. His fingers curled around yours and he brushed his knuckles against your jaw, smiling softly. 

When his lips met yours, contentment filled your chest and you pulled him closer, determined to never let him go. 

LOL Soooo I left it a little ambiguous, which I hope doesn’t drive you all too crazy!! But I like it this way and I like to think that maybe I’d write a little something more of these two if you all wanted it....

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this!! This was far, FAR filthier than anything I’ve ever written, and I think I’m going to go say a few Hail Mary’s for our hoe-tastic souls lol. 

Thank you all for your sweet words, I can’t wait to hear what you think of this final (maybe?!) part. 

Until next time ;) 

@joshbrolinismyidealman @egonic @lucifers-trash-stash @headoverhiddles @daddybrolin