#eric a quiet place x you

[fairyysoup]

easy living

pairing: eric (a quiet place: day one) x fem!reader

summary: You ran into Eric on accident. Now you're facing the end of the world together. How do you get to know someone when you can't make a sound?

tags: smut, oral (f receiving), dry humping, piv sex, silent fucking, angst, hurt/comfort, survival, discussions of trauma, slight suicidal ideation by reader, words of affirmation as a love language, stay silent or die (obviously), strangers to lovers, apocalyptic, the cheesiest ending bc it's me writing, billie holiday lyrics bc it's also me writing

a/n: here it is, the silent fucking fic i promised y'all a year ago when this movie was announced. it was supposed to be like 1-2k words of plain smut but then I got too into the theory of what one does when you can't show affection through words and I genuinely discovered a tidbit of trauma I didn't know I had while writing it so I will be talking to a therapist about it, and also I'm literally out here baring my soul lol.

i also want to thank @bigtiddythanos @raraeavesmoriendi and @maximoffwxnda for supporting me throughout this writing process <3 this fic literally would not have been finished or published without y'all

ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

The rain has ended. Morose, you stare up at the ceiling, wondering when you’ll get something close to free reign with your voice again. 

Of course the world had to end while you were at fucking Whole Foods.

You’ll miss certain things. Things you always took for granted, that you never even considered made a lot of noise until now. Typing on the computer. Making stir fry. Microwaving a burrito at 3am. Lighting a match, washing your face. Taking a shower.

And other things, too, that are more obvious, like singing while making cookies. Slurping the bottom of a milkshake. You’ll never be able to have a pet bird. You’ll never be able to see another concert again, and damn it if you didn’t really want those Glastonbury tickets a month ago. But it all just seems trivial, now. You don’t see why you shouldn’t just lay here on the couch forever. 

On the other side of the coffee table there’s a gentle shuffling. Eric rouses as quietly as he can; at the very least, your apartment creates a hospitable enough environment that he isn’t startled awake. It’s so silent in the apartment that you can hear the slight shift in his intake of breath, the rustle of the pillow as he turns his head to look at you. 

You want to look at him, but you fear that you’ll end up wanting to talk. So, you say nothing. You do nothing. You stare at the white paint on the ceiling and you wonder whether it would be better to get on one of the boats headed out into the water, or to move inland, away from people, away from sound. There has to be somewhere far enough away from the city that the… creatures won’t go, right?

Eric waves his hand in your periphery, so that you have no choice but to acknowledge that you know he’s awake. You have no choice but to turn your head and look into the depths of his eyes, and feel all the pain of the last 48 hours return to you. You’d been able to talk last night, just enough, in time with the rain and the thunder– enough to learn that he has family across the world. 

You can’t imagine knowing that somewhere, across an ocean and half a world away, your parents may or may not be dead. No way to contact them, no way to know what’s become of them. You can’t even begin to fathom the fear that he’s feeling, as much as you’re despairing. 

Eric’s big eyes tell you everything. Sadness and fear, and trying to grasp at the smallest hint of normalcy he can get. He blinks at you, and mouths, You okay?

No, you’re definitely not okay. Things are not okay. Things are broken and can’t be fixed. Things will never be the same again. He knows that, as much as you know that. But you nod anyway, even though you feel your heart beat a little bit slower than usual, like it wants to just go ahead and give up already. Tears prick at your eyes, and you have to close them before you let on that you’re lying.

Eric knows you’re lying, of course. How could anyone be okay, in this kind of situation? But he waits until you open your eyes, and then he mouths, Coffee?

You let out a small sigh of relief, and a smile that’s indescribably warm crosses your face. Even though he can’t make a sound, he knows exactly what to say.

You don’t have a coffee maker that doesn’t also make a ton of noise. But through some kind of witchcraft, Eric quietly empties two k-cups into a glass measuring cup and boils a soup pot full of water on the stove, and suddenly you have hot coffee in front of you. 

On a notepad left on the counter, you write, Wish I had some tea for you. 

Eric’s lips turn up at the edges, and he takes the pen from you. You’re able to doctor your coffee for about one second before he slides the notepad back to you.

Bloody American.

Your ensuing huff of a laugh is enough to make him turn pink around the ears, and he turns to place the dirty measuring cup into the sink. He reaches for the faucet, but then thinks better of it. You’ll have to figure out how to wash the dishes later.

You both drink your coffee in silence on the couch. You never considered yourself uncomfortable with silence; you’ve lived alone, you’ve gone for weeks without uttering a word before. But it’s so difficult to be sitting next to someone– someone you feel you could really get to like– and not be able to say a word. To make a sound, laugh or cry or snort or grunt. 

You’ll never be able to know what Eric’s laugh sounds like, or listen to his favorite song with him, or watch some stupid rerun of Friends with him while ignoring your responsibilities. He’s right there next to you, he’s risked his life to save you once already, and yet he’s so far away. You’ll never get to know him in all the ways you want to. Will you ever really know him at all?

He’d created a diversion when one of the fucking things had you trapped in a corner, between a dumpster and a brick wall. He chucked a rock at a car and set off an alarm, and then ran with you down an alleyway, his arm wrapped tight around your waist. Eric looked so sad, following you like a lost puppy. He was fucking drenched, too, so you know he’d probably been through one hell of a morning. And then the rain started, and the creatures were confused and… well, you weren’t just gonna leave him, scared and alone.

You, too, were scared and alone.

Eric’s hand appears to brush away a tear that had begun to fall down your cheek, betraying your internal monologue. You look to him with puffy eyes, and he pulls his hand away, suddenly unsure of whether you’re okay with such an intimate gesture. 

Your coffee cup meets the table with a quiet tap. You’re slow to move, but you scoot towards him, his arm still outstretched towards you, his eyes wide. Eric has the prettiest eyes in the world, you think. You want to tell him so.

But you’re a little too choked up to form words, anyways. Your forehead meets Eric’s shoulder, and his arm comes around you before you can huff the first silent sob that brims up. He coos softly into your hair, so softly that you can barely hear it, but it conveys enough. It does enough. 

The world is fucked. Your life is fucked. You have tunnel vision and you can only see things getting worse from here on; the only good thing you know anymore is holding you and caressing your head so gently that it pushes your tears out for you. 

You’ll never get to see a movie in a theater, and smell the stale popcorn again. You’ll never drive down the highway with the wind in your hair. You’ll never ride a roller coaster or sing karaoke. You’ll never go to a club and have a drunken heart to heart with a stranger in a bathroom.

“Do you think it’s worth it?” You whisper, so faintly that it’s barely above a breath, your lips pressed to the shell of his ear. “To try to exist in a world where you have to pretend like you don’t exist?”

Eric pauses, holding you to him. You can see the wheels turning in his head, while he tries to figure out what to say. Then he turns his face to put his lips against your ear, the same way you’d done to him. 

“I think it’s worth it to try to survive.” His breath tickles your skin when he whispers, “So survive with me, yeah?”

You nod solemnly, your tears threatening to rise up again. “I can’t stand not talking to you.” It’s so hard to keep your voice from cracking, from rising above the merest hint of a whisper, directly to him and no one or nothing else. 

Eric takes it in stride. “You are talking to me.” He pulls back and bats his eyelashes, and you think, he oughta fucking know what that does to me. 

“Not like this,” you breathe to him, because that’s really what it is– it’s a breath. A sigh. A gust of air and nothing else, barely anything that registers on your vocal chords. Your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him close to you. His hand, tightening on the middle of your back, holding you there. “I want to talk– I want to get to know you.” 

“Well, this isn’t so bad, is it?” Eric turns his head. His forehead nudges yours at the temple, and you swear you see a flash of a smile on his face. “What do you want to know?” 

His forefinger traces up and down, up and down, a gentle pattern that keeps you grounded. You bite your lip, trying to keep from letting the sounds come out too loud. You say the first thing that comes to mind. “What’s your favorite song?”

“Easy Living. Billie Holiday.” 

“You’re kidding.” You’re blushing, hot in the cheeks. You’re imagining it; slow dancing in the kitchen with him while oldies plays on the radio. You didn’t think such an innocent question would send you spiraling like this, but it hurts worse to know that it will probably never happen.

“Absolutely not.” 

“Somehow… I can’t picture you listening to jazz.” 

“Picture it all you want,” he whispers. Eric swallows, and continues, “My granddad used to have these records, and we used to play them on Christmas. But when– when he died, the records went missing. I couldn’t find the song until a couple years ago,” he explains, and his voice cracks just slightly into a murmur. 

You both freeze. You wait for the sound of creatures coming down the hallway, busting down the walls… nothing happens. You let out a breath, and you pull his face closer to yours. His eyes flick over your face, and you put your lips against his ear. 

“You have to be so quiet. Can you do that for me?” Eric nods in your hands. “I wish we could do anything but this. I wish that we could have met in better circumstances. I wish… I wish I had known you before all of this. I think we would have had a lot of fun. But if this is the only way I can get to know you, and hear your voice now, I’ll take it.” You’re nodding as well now, like you’re trying to convince yourself of it. “I’m telling you this because I don’t know how long we have. Together, I mean. And I don’t want to waste it passing notes. Okay?” 

“Okay.” He sounds clipped. His hand fidgets on your back, and you pull away to find him misty-eyed, his brows turned up. He fishes for words that don’t come, and then he nods. “Okay.” 

Neither of you move. The atmosphere around you feels heavy, like it’s pressing in on all sides. Eric’s hand slides up your back and to your face, and you remember that you’re still holding his. You’re near sitting in his lap with how close you’ve become, and the realization of that feels like a punch to the gut.

You think you should pull away. You don’t. 

Eric’s thumb traces a gentle arc across your bottom lip. It’s so featherlight it’s barely there– his eyes are honed in on your mouth, clearly lost in thought. You’d let him stay there as long as he wants, but you want every minute you can get. “Eric–”

He closes the gap and kisses you. The way you’d said his name– or not said it, rather, you sort of mouthed it against his thumb– had done the job you wanted it to. It feels like this was the obvious conclusion to the system you’d worked out, the close proximity and your shared fears. He’s scared, he said as much last night. You’re scared, you said so just now. 

Nowhere to go, nothing else to do except be right here, living. Alive, together. Kissing Eric, and him pulling you close by the waist, so that you do swing your leg and seat yourself in his lap. And as much as you love talking, and it breaks your heart that you can’t jabber at him, there are some things you just can’t put into words. Like the way that his hand on the back of your neck lights you up inside, or that you can’t think of anything other than all the areas where his skin is touching yours, and how you suddenly wish there was way more of them.

It’s stupid how much you like him already, really. You can feel your nonexistent friends clucking their tongues and shaking their heads, saying, “One day? That’s all it takes? You find some guy at the end of the world and you fall in love in 24 hours?” And they’d be right– maybe it’s not love. Not yet, anyways. But you could see it easily becoming that. And that fact scares you even more.

Your hands find Eric’s chest and the frantic beating of his heart tells you nearly the same thing. You break the kiss, trying to quietly catch your breath without gasping like you’re half-drowning. It’s harder than you expected. 

“Been wanting to do that all morning,” Eric whispers. And just like that you’re falling again, faster this time, like he’s just melted your wings right off and sent you plummeting.

You struggle to keep from gasping aloud when he kisses your jaw, just beneath your ear. It’s the lightest touch but you swear it burns, sears your skin. 

Your hands find the back of the couch, twitchy fingers digging in to keep you steady. Your mouth finds his again, his tongue tasting of coffee, and Eric kisses you a bit harder now, a bit sloppier. 

Breaking away, you open your eyes to find his wide, starstruck, his mouth hanging open like he’s been shocked beyond belief. You didn’t honestly intend for this to happen– you wanted to talk. But somehow this seems better, more appropriate. 

How do you get your feelings across when talking isn’t really an option? When innocent attraction becomes… whatever this is? 

You press a single finger to his plush lips, signaling exactly what you mean without a word. Quiet. 

Eric purses his lips, kisses your finger without breaking eye contact. His pupils are blown out so far that the barest hint of golden brown surrounds them, glinting in the sunlight from the window. 

You lean forward, until your mouth touches his ear. “Your eyes are so fucking pretty, Eric,” you whisper to him, and your teeth latch onto his earlobe to tug gently. You can’t help it– you grind your hips down into his lap, without even thinking of doing it. “You’re so pretty.”

Eric whimpers. It’s a soft sound, hollow in the back of his throat, but it’s still too loud for the world that you’re in. You clamp your hand down over his mouth, and his breath comes out sharp and hot over your knuckles as he tries to regain composure.

“Do you want me to stop?” You ask him, whispering gently in his ear. Against you, he shakes his head no. “Want me to keep going?” Eric nods his head yes. 

He’s shaking under you, his fingertips digging into your lower back like he can’t hold onto you hard enough. At the thought, your pulse pounds, blood positively humming through your veins. 

You nuzzle his cheek, and give him the sweetest kiss you can while your hand is still clamped over his mouth insistently. “You have to be. Fucking. Silent. Do you understand?” He nods. “We can’t make a sound. Okay?” 

Eric nods again, and keeps nodding until you let him go. If the rain was still pouring like earlier, you could tell him how much you want him, too. How you don’t want to be mean, you just don’t want to get hurt. This is a bad idea, all things considered. But Eric slides his hand down and cups your ass to lift you up a bit, and the words bad and idea suddenly fucking vanish from your vocabulary.

You stand long enough to kick off your sweats, your day old panties going down with them. You hadn’t dressed to be sexy yesterday, you dressed to get groceries. You don’t necessarily want Eric to see your faded cotton underwear with the stretched out elastic and multiple frayed holes. You don’t think it would add to your sex appeal right now. 

He doesn’t notice the lack of a strip tease– he’s already taking you by the hips, not even waiting for you to shuck your t-shirt. He pulls until you’re stood in front of him, and then hooks your leg over his shoulder. 

So. Eric doesn’t need to be asked to go down on you, he just does. The gentleman. His hands are firm on your ass as he nuzzles into the patch of hair between your legs, and the precarious balancing act makes you snatch onto the back of the couch again. 

His tongue glides through the folds of your pussy slowly, methodically. You aren’t sure if he wants to take his time, or if he’s going slow so that he doesn’t make too much noise when doing it, but he latches onto your clit and sucks agonizingly softly, like he knows he should do it harder but won’t risk making you moan. 

It’s so gentle, and it builds. Pretty soon, you’re having a tough time keeping your whimpers in, even when he’s basically just teasing you, flicking his tongue over your clit with even the barest pressure. Your head has fallen back on your shoulders, your hand now clasped over your own mouth to stifle your sighs. 

Then, Eric’s hand glides up to splay across your lower back, and he sucks long and hard at your clit, and your hand squeezes murderously at the back of the couch while you ride out your orgasm on his tongue. 

Knees buckling, you collapse into Eric’s lap. He has a doe-eyed look on his face that’s way too innocent after what he just did to you. With panting breath and shaking hands, you cup his rosy cheeks in your palms, shaking your head in disbelief. 

Eric’s brows tilt in worry, like he did something wrong. He opens his mouth, but you put your fingers against his lips to silence him, and lean forward to breathe, “You’re too sweet for me, Eric.” 

He traces his fingers lightly up your spine, and turns his head. “Maybe one day I won’t have to be sweet. Maybe then I can really fuck you.” 

The sound of his whispering voice in your ear makes you shiver, your lust reaching a boiling point. The idea of him really fucking you– that this isn’t even him as normal, that he’s having to hold so much back– makes you burn hot all at once. That this isn’t something he’s planning on doing once. That there’s a ‘one day’ that he sees in the future with you in it. 

With a nod, your breath catches in your throat. You find your way to his mouth again, kissing him desperately. You can taste yourself lingering on his lips, and your hips rock forward against his again. 

Eric inhales sharply, stifling his own moan. You guess you have to take it just as slowly as he did, ease him into it. You work your hand beneath his unbuttoned fly and palm him, keeping your touch gentle against his hot skin. He shakes, his hands laid out against your spine, his eyes sparkling when he looks up at you. 

You push your forehead against his as you sink onto his cock, letting yourself adjust to his size. His breath stutters as he tries to keep quiet, small puffs of air spilling out and meeting your electrified skin. You curl your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, rocking your hips just barely, settling into his lap. 

This is more intimate than you can ever remember being with anyone, but right now it just feels right. Maybe it could be cathartic to fuck like a couple of animals in the face of doom, but Eric pulls your body flush against his, one strong forearm around your waist, and his nose nudges yours, and you think this is better. This is what you both need. Closeness. Sweetness. 

There isn’t a lot of movement– you can’t risk it. You and Eric seem to be in agreement on that, because as soon as you start trying to move in earnest, he just pulls you back to him, his arm around your waist and his hand petting the back of your head. 

Eric rocks his hips up into yours slowly, deeply, and it’s the depth of it and the slow sensuality that keeps you floating. Your clit catches on the patch of hair at the base of his cock each time you roll your hips with him, and you have to kiss him to keep from keening aloud. He doesn’t seem to mind it. 

You know he’s close when he tucks his face against your neck, his arm tightening around you. “Feels so fucking good,” comes his whine in your ear, and you gently shush him, your hand resting on the back of his head to keep him muffled against your shoulder. You want so badly to look at his face when he cums, but there’s that pesky issue of staying alive, and that hinges on whether or not he can keep quiet when he does. 

To his credit, he bites your shoulder and only whimpers a little bit. It’s just a squeak, but really, he could have been much louder about it, and then you would have both been in trouble. Imagine having to run for your life with your pants down. 

Ever the gentleman, he keeps you there even after he’s spent and sensitive, his hand clamped down on your thigh to prevent you from moving. His thumb finds your clit, and he lifts his head to watch you, his hooded eyes trained on your face as he brings you to the edge and over it again. He watches the way your brows tilt up, the way you struggle to keep your own eyes open, and the silent moan that threatens to break past your parted lips.

Eric claps his hand down over your mouth before it can. Your eyes fly open, your cunt clenches down around him, and he bares his teeth as you cum hard. It’s cyclical, comes in waves as he continues to stroke you through it, as he keeps his hand clamped down on your mouth to keep you quiet. 

To keep you quiet. 

Feverish and exhausted, you come down with your chest against his, Eric’s head flopped back onto the backrest of the couch. Your knees fucking hurt and you have yet to get off of him, and you sort of dread the moment when you have to. But this means your mouth is positioned right next to Eric’s ear, and you’re nothing if not a talker.

“Eric?” you whisper, and he turns his head just enough to let you know he heard you. “I’m glad that I met you when I did. Even if it’s terrible timing, I’m glad we met.”

A sweet, tired smile flits across Eric’s beautiful face. He nudges his nose against your temple. “I’m glad, too.” 

You shift off of him, and he squeezes your thigh just at the same time as he scrunches his face. He’s such a trooper about it, you kiss his cheek as you go, leaning over to grab a pair of earphones from the coffee table. 

You hand one ear bud to him, watching as confusion crosses his face. He watches you type on your phone as he tucks the bud into his ear, and you the other. 

On low volume, you listen to the soft piano and saxophone intro to an old jazz standard. Eric grins, his hand finding your cheek before he pulls you in for a kiss. 

And then, Billie Holiday’s voice plays for only you two to hear. 

Living for you is easy living, It’s easy to live when you’re in love And I’m so in love, There’s nothing in life but you.

[lovebugism]

✶ ┄ LOVE AND MERCY !

summary: you're more stubborn than the apocalypse. eric is the personification of a sad, wet dog. your world's collide when the world as you know it ends. (6.3k)

pairing: eric (a quiet place day one) / f!reader

contents: strangers to friends to lovers, a couple of losers in love, apocalyptic setting, angst, hurt/comfort cw for mentions of grief and anxiety, brief mentions of injuries, and smut 18+

You wake up that morning in a bed that is not yours, in a room that does not belong to you, in an abandoned cabin you turned into a safe house three weeks ago.

Everything around you is foreign. Including the world outside these rotted walls, which turned entirely on its head in a blink. A blink that somehow turned into three months gone.

The only thing familiar to you now is the stranger lying in the bed beside you — on the right side that he has wordlessly claimed as his own. Before Eric was a guy you shared beds with, he was a guy you found in the rain. A boy with big, wet, puppy dog eyes who followed you like a stray after the world fell.

That was all he was to you for a month straight. A burden. Deadweight. An ever-anxious being that had nearly gotten you killed more times than you could count. You never saw him any differently until you almost died — a certain death involving you, an old beartrap, several aliens with uber-sensitive hearing, and a stupid boy who was too dumb to leave you behind. 

“I can’t leave you,” Eric blubbered through tears, whimpering in faint whispers so the blind monsters wouldn’t hear. “I won’t.”

“Then you won’t make it at all, you idiot,” you spat through gritted teeth, eyes wide and stern and glittering. You wouldn’t let yourself cry, not even with your leg all but torn to shreds, but Eric’s sudden stubbornness scared you. Why now? Of all times? you thought to yourself, Why does he have to be so stubborn now?

“I wouldn’t want to,” Eric promised, bloodied hands trembling where they gripped your arms. “I wouldn’t want to make it without you.”

That was a month or so ago, but you carry the horrors of that day still. 

In the vivid nightmares that rattle your bones. In the marred skin of your ankle, hidden beneath bandages, slowly healing with each passing day. And in the strange boy with puppy dog eyes who still hasn’t left your side.

Let me check your leg, Eric scribbles on a notepad. 

His handwriting is slanted and small and hardly legible — fitting for a man whose mind is always racing faster than he can keep up. 

The marker is fading slowly, too, dying from excessive use because the majority of your conversations are spoken through written words on a page. You’ve gone through a notebook or three already.

You snatch the notepad from his grip to write a response of your own. Eric peels the tattered blanket from your body to survey the gauze around your ankle. He peeks beneath the bandage, and his chest pinches at the sight — not because of his sensitive stomach, but because of the harsh reminder of the day he almost lost you.

The paper swishes faintly when you turn the notebook back to him. Okay, Dr. Eric :P, you’ve written in sloppy cursive. The boy grins at the mischievous look in your eyes.

“That’s Doctor Eric Esquire to you,” he corrects in a whisper that makes his accent sound more posh than usual. He smooths the gauze back into place with a gentle hand and says, “You’re healing fine, I think. I’ll have to go out and scavenge for more bandages soon, but these should last for another…”

The sounds of your rapid scribbling fill the quiet cabin. Eric trails off in wait, wide eyes darting from the marker in your hand to the pinched look of concentration on your face. 

He sees a strange sort of giddiness sparking in your otherwise serious features that makes him fearful. Intrigued, yes, but still distantly fearful. All your ideas tend to get him into trouble.

The notebook turns to him again. His stomach does a backflip.

Wanna go on an adventure?

“This is… Not what I was expecting,” Eric muses beneath the sounds of a rushing waterfall. 

His words echo slightly in the expanse of the dank cave. It’s the first time you’ve heard his voice in full volume, deep and accented and smooth. His pretty whispering annoyed you to no end back when he was just a stranger with exactly zero survival instincts. Now, you never want him to stop talking.

“Well, that’s why it’s an adventure,” you lilt, wiping water from your brow with the neck of your t-shirt. 

Your clothes stick to you in places where the waterfall had splashed you on your way underneath it. The still air of the cave, strangely cool compared to the humid air outside of it, makes you fight back a shiver.

Eric eyes you from a distance, features swirled in a quiet concern. It’s impossible to relish in this little ounce of peace when you have the kind of mind he does — the kind of mind that’s always anxious and always filled with thoughts of you. 

He cares so much for you, far more than he planned to, that it’s made him chronically fearful. He’s grown to realize, since he met you, that the two words are rather synonymous. You can’t have love without fear — and what is there to be fearful for, if not for the ones you love?

“Your bandages really shouldn’t be getting wet, you know?”

You scoff and limp further into the damp hollow. The quiet sound of your steps reverberates within the stone walls, along with the subtle scuffing of your bad foot. “You said I was healing okay, remember?” you huff and drop the basket in your elbow onto the cobblestone.

“I said you were healing fine,” Eric chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest. “There’s a difference.”

“Not really,” you shrug with a scrunched nose, flashing him a fleeting glance over your shoulder. You turn away again and wince at the distant ache in your ankle when you crouch. 

Sometimes the scars hurt like they’re still fresh, still weeping scarlet and throbbing like a new wound. Eric’s not a doctor, but he tells you that it’ll probably be that way forever. “Phantom pains, I think they call it,” he says in a posh accent that makes him sound more official than he really is. You’re inclined to believe him, anyway.

The boy watches as you sort through the wicker basket you stole — or borrowed, as you claim, “’cause it’s not like the owner’s coming back for it anytime soon.” It’s full of stuff you wouldn’t let him see, like it was some kind of big secret. 

He grimaces when you squat, putting unnecessary weight on a barely healing leg. He knows it hurts, even when you pretend it doesn’t — especially when you pretend it doesn’t. His chest pinches like the ache is his own. Like sympathy pains or something. He worries so much for you that you’ve given him fucking sympathy pains.

“We shouldn’t have left,” Eric agonizes, wiping a pair of anxious hands down his face. He swipes his fingers through his hair and finds the chestnut curls now partially damp. “I shouldn’t have let you leave. I mean, what if we have to run, huh? What if we have to—”

“We won’t,” you groan as you stand to full height again. You hold an old quilt in one arm and gesture wildly with the other. “That’s what the waterfall is for. They can’t hear us under here. Nothing’s coming.”

He knows you’re right, but it doesn’t worry him any less.

“How’d you even know this was out here?”

You falter for a moment. A mere blink of a second. But Eric catches it immediately because there isn’t anything about you he doesn’t instantly notice. He’s rarely ever seen you, his silver-tongued girl, so ambivalent. And something about it frightens him.

“I was… on a walk one day… while you were out scavenging—” you answer slowly, shrugging like it isn’t a big deal at all, though you immediately follow it with, “—Don’t get angry.”

Eric’s pink mouth falls softly agape, opening and closing like a fish’s might, while he tries to find the words to say. To shout. To scream. 

“Y-You... You— You left without me?” he stammers, voice booming. 

The words ring across the expanse of the shallow cave, bouncing off the damp stone walls. It’s the loudest he’s heard himself talk since the world ended, and the notion startles him. Like a dog just learning how to bark.

Eric’s breath hitches in his throat as his dark eyes widen in fear. He waits instinctively for the screeching of far-off monsters and their booming footsteps — prepares for an adrenaline rush that’ll give his weak arms the strength to carry both of you to safety.

It never comes. 

The sounds of the waterfall shield you from the war raging outside of it. 

When the panic passes, the anger resumes.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?” Eric agonizes, quieter now, though the corner of his lip twitches with withheld anger. 

You keep your back to the boy and lay out the contents of the wicker basket. A floral quilt to cushion the stone flooring, two bottles of wine to share between you, several bags of stale chips, and one MP3 player that’s somehow stronger than the end of the world. You pay Eric no mind as he continues to rant behind you.

“What if you’d gotten killed? What if— What if you got lost and I couldn’t find you—?!”

“Don’t shout!” you gripe despite your own booming voice. 

“Why not?” Eric questions with a cynical laugh. “I thought nothing could hear us under here?”

You spin back around to face him, grimacing slightly when your healing wounds start to burn. You tilt your chin in a look of defiance, though your eyes sparkle faintly in the dim natural light — something mischievous and strangely shy. 

“I don’t want you to shout because I put a lot of effort into this,” you answer in a steady voice, lips quirking in a distant smile. “And we can’t enjoy it if you’re gonna be grumpy the entire time.”

Eric blinks at you for several long moments, brown eyes wide like an owl. Only then does he notice what you’d set up for him in the brief minutes he’d been blinded by his anger. A picnic of sorts — fashioned with a moth-eaten quilt, dusty wine bottles, and snacks you’d scavenged and seemingly stashed like a squirrel. It’s about as fancy as you can get in an apocalypse.

His mouth opens and closes again, this time in a quiet sort of shock. “Wh… What?”

“Well, you kinda spent your entire birthday taking care of me, so… I figured we were past due for a celebration.”

Eric’s brows pinch together. A furrow of deep thought settles between them. 

He realizes he hadn’t thought twice about his birthday till now. Hadn’t thought twice about turning another year older, just like he hadn’t thought twice about needing to be repaid for taking care of you. He did both things without thinking. He can’t control his urge to dote on you like he can’t control the existential dread of getting older.

“How’d you know it was my birthday?”

“‘Cause you told me once,” you shrug. “And I keep track of the days in my calendar, so—”

“So, you’re saying that… That you did all this...” the man laughs, gesturing to the cave and the waterfall and the wine. “For me?”

A similar-sounding laugh sputters from your own mouth ‘cause you do it all for him. From going on stupid picnics to fighting monsters from another planet. Everything you’ve done up until this point, you realize now, you’ve done for Eric. You keep on living despite the unfavorable odds for Eric.

“Of course I did. It’s not that big of a deal,” you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest to shield your bleeding heart. “I mean, you kinda saved my life. The least I can do is take you on a stupid fucking picnic.”

When you turn around again to ease yourself onto the blanket, Eric tries to make out the words to thank you. Not just for what you’ve done here, but for what you’ve done all the days since he found you. Because you’ve saved his life too, more times than he could count, actually — ‘cause that’s just what you do. You save each other and don’t think twice about it because that’s what you do when you care for someone.

He forgot all about birthdays and picnics and what it meant to be alive before he found you. And now that you’re here, you spend every single day reminding him of everything the end of the world begs him to forget.

“I’m— I’m sorry… I’m sorry for shouting at you,” Eric stammers in a sheepish murmur, scratching awkwardly at the back of his neck.

“I know,” you nod, smiling as you pat the spare spot beside you. “Now stop being weird and come sit down.”

The wine is warm, the chips are stale, and the quilt just barely cushions the hard ground beneath you — but everything’s still somehow perfect. Your MP3 player is almost as old as you are and cracked down the middle, but the music plays just perfectly from its headphones, anyway. 

Maybe it’s perfect ‘cause it’s not perfect. 

Or maybe it’s perfect because you’re here.

You sit side-by-side on the handmade blanket, legs crossed and knees brushing, as you share an earbud between you. Conversation ebbs and flows between snacking. Music fills the silence.

I was sittin’ in a crummy movie with my hands on my chin,

All the violence that occurs, seems like we never win...

Eric tips his head back to down the rest of the cheesy crumbs in the package he holds in a pale fist. His scruffy cheeks jut like a chipmunk as he chews through the mouthful. “I missed this, you know?” he mumbles.

You set the wine bottle beside you after taking a lengthy sip, licking the bitter-sweet grape from your lips. “What?” you wonder aloud. “The wine? The Cheetos? The music?”

The boy goes quiet as he ponders the question. He figures he was talking about you, mostly — this sort of connection between humans, this sort of comfort, this sort of normalcy. The music answers your question in his silence.

—Love and mercy, that’s what you need tonight…

So love and mercy, to you and your friends tonight…

He nods anyway. “All of the above, actually…”

“You know what I miss?” you wonder beneath the rustling of the Scooby Snacks you dig your hand into. You chuck a cartoon bone into your mouth and find the graham-cracker components have gone soft with time. “I miss driving down backroads… going way faster than what’s probably allowed… with the windows down and the radio all the way up…”

Eric watches the far-off look in your eyes as you stare, unblinking, at the waterfall ahead of you. Clear water rushes from the mountain and falls hard onto the cobbles and the still water below. Rogue drops splatter inside the shallow cave, occasionally splashing you with fat droplets.

The running waterfall cast fleeting shadows over your face, littered now with faint scars. Your features are much softer than he’s used to in the natural light.

“I miss college parties,” he confesses, wiping his palms on his knees.

You wash the dry graham cracker out with another sip of wine and try not to laugh as you swallow it down.

“Why’s that funny?” Eric wonders through his own chuckle, only partially offended.

“I don’t know… I guess I just didn’t take you for a partier.”

“I wasn’t really…” he concedes with a shy shrug, gaze averted and cheeks pink. “But I was a really big fan of karaoke.”

“Well, that makes a lot more sense.”

“Doesn’t it?” Eric humors with a scrunched nose.

You tilt your head back to laugh — a pretty, airy sound that echoes within the cobbled walls, only partially drowned out beneath the rushing waterfall. You shift closer toward him when you’re upright again, probably without realizing, but Eric notices. He can’t help but notice everything you do. And he can’t help but lean instinctively closer to you, too.

He can smell the natural scent of you beneath the various surrounding ones — of freshwater, pine, and whatever cologne was spritzed on your shirt before you found it. He can smell the sweet wine on your breath, too, and he quickly realizes that you’re close enough to kiss. If only he weren’t so chicken shit.

The proximity makes his cheeks flush, though you’re not nearly as fazed by it.

“I forgot what that felt like…” you muse in a quiet voice of disbelief.

Eric smiles so hard his eyes squint. “What?”

“I don’t know… just, like, happiness? I guess?” you laugh. “I used to think that was impossible before now.”

“Yeah… Me too.” 

The conversation lulls for a moment. The music playing in your ears takes over: 

—I was standing at a bar and watching all the people there…

All the loneliness in this world, well, it’s just not fair…

You cage your smile between your teeth in a feeble attempt to conceal how wide it’s grown. Your eyes are wide and sparkling, likely from the wine, as they flit between both of his darker ones. Eric exhales a breathy chuckle in response, all giddy and nervous for a reason he can’t name (probably from the wine, too, if he had to guess).

He feels himself leaning in to kiss you before he realizes it. He only catches himself when you pull unknowingly away, reaching again for the glass bottle at your side. His heart drops to his swirling stomach as his cheeks flare a deep pink.

“I’m glad you followed me like a creep for a week straight, you know that?” you confess with a teasing squint in your eyes as you bring the lip of the bottle to your mouth.

Eric scoffs at the memory, which feels like yesterday and ancient history all at once.

He was by himself when the world first fell — a stranger in a strange country, and the loneliest he’d ever been in his life. And, perhaps, the most scared, too. 

Then, all of a sudden, he sees this girl rush out of an alleyway and into a monster-infested street to save a dog from an otherwise unavoidable death. Eric watched from a distance as you returned the scared pup to its owners — a very young couple cowering behind a car, not that much older than you. 

You pointed them in the direction of a military base setting up camps for civilians then went the opposite way. Away from guaranteed protection. Like the safest hands were your own. 

Eric made the quick decision to follow you as you went. He figured if you were brave enough to save some dog that wasn’t yours, and stare death directly in the face while you did it, then you could do just about anything.

He didn’t know, then, that he was making the best decision he’d ever made in his life.

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t pummel me in the face for following you like a creep.”

“I should’ve,” you quip. “But I liked your company too much, I guess…”

“Liked?” the boy parrots, laughing loudly at the turn of phrase. “Is this your way of saying you’re finally tired of me?”

You roll your eyes and hide your smirk behind the neck of the wine bottle. “Do you think I would’ve done all this shit if I wasn’t the least bit fond of you, Eric?”

The question is rhetorical, but you expect a lighthearted quip from the British boy anyway. Your words seem to settle something heavy on him, though. It’s the very first time you’ve admitted out loud, without a shred of sarcasm, how much you really care for him. 

Eric forgets to say anything at all. The cave fills with a loud silence. The steady drumming of the waterfall and the whisper of rustling trees. Strangely peaceful for the end of the world. 

“Wanna know something wild?” he asks you after a few long moments. His accent makes the words sound heavy on his tongue. Your brows raise to egg him on, and he continues, stumbling over himself in the process. “I’m… I’m not happy the world ended, but… I am— I am glad that it brought me you.”

Your breath catches. It’s the most profound thing anyone’s ever said to you, you think. Way deeper than any measly ‘I love you.’ And how are you meant to respond to that? To his confession that the end of the world was worth finding you? There’s no string of words in the English language that could possibly compare to that.

Eric waits for your response with bated breath. He hopes for an affirmation of your similar affection, of course, but a rejection would be better than nothing at all. He blinks at you with hopeful chocolate eyes, then flinches away when you laugh.

“You’re such a sap,” you say, giggling, as you reach suddenly for his face.

You cradle his scruffy jaw between warm and gently calloused hands, pulling him into you with an admirable effortlessness. You kiss him like it’s natural to you — like he was never just a stranger — like you’ve spent entire lifetimes kissing him.

You take the breath from his lungs with little effort. Eric tips his head back and sighs when you swipe your tongue along his chapped bottom lip. The exhaled breath fans across your cupid’s bow, and you smile against his mouth as you clamor gracelessly into his lap — straddling his lean hips and pressing your beating heart to his. 

The earbuds fall carelessly to the ground, and the fading song plays muffedly from beside you:

—Love and mercy, that’s what you need tonight…

So love and mercy, to you and your friends tonight…

Your mouths click when they part, a subtle sound beneath the drumming waterfall behind you. Your eyes are heavy and lidding as they fall to Eric’s kissed mouth — now a rosier shade, gently swollen, and shining with your spit. A stamp of ownership, almost, that makes your chest swell with pride.

Eric looks up at you with big, wet eyes as his hands fidget on either side of your waist. “I’ve been waiting for that for ages,” he confesses in a low murmur.

A small smile quirks faintly at the edges of your mouth. “Could you maybe say something that’s not super cliché?” you tease.

“How about… I really, really want to kiss you again?” Eric offers in a honeyed tone that makes his accent heavier. He swallows hard, adam’s apple bobbing. “And that I… I wanna make you feel good?”

You cage your bottom lip between your teeth to hide your smile. Your fingertips are calloused and cold as they toy with the curls at the nape of his neck — tiny chestnut strands coiled in perfect ringlets. Eric fights back a shiver.

“Then I’d say that…” you begin with a mischievous lilt to your voice, wild eyes flitting from his pink lips to his watery eyes. “I’ve been waiting for that for ages.”

You part from him then, taking the warmth of your body with you as you sit on your knees across from him. The rugged ground is hardly cushioned by the thin quilt. You can vaguely feel small rocks digging into your skin, but your need for him is much louder. 

You cross your arms in front of yourself to swipe your t-shirt over your head. You toss the discarded fabric carelessly beside you, then work at the buttons of your jeans — also borrowed, and just a half-size too big for you. 

Eric watches with his heart in his throat. It’s the most naked you’ve ever been in front of him before. The sight of your bare skin, covered now only in the sports bra you’ve had since the world ended, makes his head swim. It takes him a moment too long to realize he should be undressing, too, and he rushes to catch up.

The two of you undress yourselves in relative silence. The sight is hardly as sexy as you’d expect — full of fumbling limbs far too eager to be graceful. Eric’s shirt gets stuck on his chin. Your jeans get caught at your ankle. The tense lull between you ebbs into a symphony of entwining giggles.

With your clothes scattered in abandoned piles, you lay back against the blanket. Eric settles on top of you with a strange sort of effortlessness — like it’s muscle memory to him, even though neither of you has done this for a long, long while — much less with each other. 

The weight of his body is warm and heavy over yours. You slide your hands under his arms and curl them over his freckled shoulders, digging your nails softly into his pale skin to pull him further into you. 

You watch with heavily lidded eyes as Eric brings his hand to his mouth. He slides his pointer and middle finger between his lips, wetting the pads of them with his tongue. You exhale a deep breath when the limbs come out again, glittering in the low light. 

He studies your features with a dark and unwavering stare as he slips his fingers between the lips of your pussy — tracing the velvety lips for a moment before easing them slowly inside. Your eyes flutter shut at the foreign feeling. Eric smiles to himself, wrist flexing, as he explores your silky cunt with his fingers. 

“Please fuck me,” you sigh when his palm bumps your swollen clit. Your head tips back as your hips buck upward, all but melting under his touch. “Please.”

It takes Eric a moment or more to formulate a response. You’ve never been so subservient like this before, so needy for him. This must be the eighth wonder of the world, he thinks to himself, as he continues to work you open with unworthy hands.

“Have to get you ready for me first,” he tells you, voice and low gritty, as he exhales a breathy chuckle that fans across your jaw. “Don’t wanna break you, honey.”

You manage a scoff in response. “Well, that’s very presumptuous of you— oh…”

Eric crooks his fingers until the tips of them brush a spongy depth inside you. Your mouth falls agape at the feeling, so foreignly full beneath him. His spit-slick lips curl into a lazy smirk. “That shut you up, didn’t it?”

You would’ve spit a snide remark back at him if his thumb hadn’t pressed so mercilessly to your delicate clit then. The words dissolve like dust on your tongue and escape only as a breathy moan. 

Eric continues his relentless pursuit with nothing but two of his fingers. Relentless, you think,because he’s hardly trying to make you cum now. You’re not sure if he’s just oblivious to how good he’s making you feel, or if he’s pushing you to the edge and jerking you back on purpose. It’s agony either way.

He only stops when his pointer and middle finger start to prune, the pads of them softly wrinkled from your honey. He wipes them off on the quilt like a total barbarian. You would’ve said something about that, too, if you weren’t still trying to catch your breath.

Eric rises to his knees. His bare chest, dusted with sparse hair over the sternum, rises and falls with uneven pants. His cock hangs heavy between his spread thighs — half-hard, glowing red, and leaking faintly at the tip. His wide hands are softer than your own as they smooth up and down the length of your thighs. His thumbs rub soothingly over the supple insides of them — with a touch almost as gentle as the melted chocolate gaze he looks at you with. 

“Are you alright?” he wonders, all quiet and suddenly shy, like you aren’t all but dripping for him now.

“You’re so annoying,” you gripe with a scoffed-out laugh, rolling your eyes because you’re certain he’s teasing you. Your stomach sinks when the genuine glimmer in his eyes doesn’t waver. You squirm beneath him and his unyielding gaze. “I’m okay, Eric,” you murmur sheepishly, never easily serious.

He nods to himself and swallows hard, still visibly unsure. It makes you wonder if he’s second-guessing. “Stop staring and kiss me, you asshole,” you grouse with a forced laugh, tightening your grip on his shoulders.

Eric’s mouth quirks in an absentminded smile. “Just let me look at you for a second…” he whispers, squeezing the outsides of your thighs with warm hands.

“We don’t have to whisper anymore, dummy,” you tease in a hushed tone of your own.

His grin widens until his eyes wrinkle at the edges and his tongue pokes softly through his teeth. He laughs despite himself and grips his heavy cock in his fist. “You’re so mean, you know that?” he asks, folding your knee back with his free hand. You’re not sure if he’s expecting a real response, but he slips into you before you can give him one.

He fucks into you slow — bitterly, painfully, and agonizingly slow — forcing you to feel every inch of him. His cock is of average length, but girthy enough to stretch you open. You’re suddenly grateful he thought to use his fingers on you despite your impatience, but the two of them alone hardly equate to how thick he is.

Both of you inhale sharply when he’s fully sheathed inside of you, neither exactly used to the feeling. Eric allows you a moment or more to adjust before sliding out again. You exhale softly together in entwining moans that get lost beneath the sounds of a raging waterfall.

Eric thrusts into you again with gritted teeth, trying not to whimper too loudly when your pussy clenches around him. He bends at the waist to hide his face in your neck and exhales all his pathetic moans there. 

He keeps one hand clenched into a fist on the blanket to prop up his weight; his other slides beneath your head to cushion your skull from the hard ground. You grip the boy by his flexing biceps, digging your nails into the skin every time he thrusts into you. Jaw clenched, nose scrunched, eyes squinted — you take his cock without complaint despite the very loud feeling that it’s all too much for you.

Eric is everywhere, and the notion alone overwhelms you. He’s in you, on top of you, all over you. Like the air you breathe. You need him just the same. Not because he’s your friend but because you’re scared you might seriously die without him. 

It’s dramatic at best. At worst, it’s the exact opposite feeling you should have for anyone in the apocalypse, where death is essentially promised for both of you.

Tears prick your eyes at the thought, though you’d rather blame them on Eric’s merciless thrusts. They’re sloppy and unmeasured as he struggles to find a rhythm. He’s similarly overwhelmed by the pleasure. You can tell by the way his body trembles over yours, and the way he buries loud moans into your pulsepoint. You can feel the vibrations of each moan in your veins. 

The way you’re pinned beneath him cages your clit between your bodies. Every time Eric’s lean hips thrust upward and back again, the coarse thatch of hair above his cock brushes your sensitive button. You couldn’t free yourself from it if you tried. You’re not sure if you even want to.

“This is good for you, right?” Eric wonders through heavy pants, voice wavering under the weight of his pleasure. “Please tell me this is good for you.”

Any other time, you would’ve laughed at him, but now you only nod. Rapidly and with your jaw clenched tight. Just as pathetic as he is. 

“’S good,” you promise through gritted teeth as the coil in the pit of your stomach starts to tighten. “It’s so good, Eric. Feels so fuckin’ good.”

The affirmation makes him moan. Loudly. Enough for you to be momentarily grateful for the cover of the rumbling waterfall. Eric buckles down over you and strengthens his rapid, irregularly timed thrusts with a feeble cry. 

Your own whine rumbles in your throat, falling from your mouth like honey. Your warm skin, now slick with a layer of sweat, begins to buzz. The need for release builds like a dam within you — somewhere deep, right where the tip of Eric’s cock fucks into you. 

Your thighs start to tremble on either side of his waist. Your hips begin to buck despite yourself. You can’t be sure if you’re running from the pleasure now, or chasing it entirely.

“You gotta cum, baby,” Eric tells you through a pitiful whine, face still tucked into your neck. He licks his lips and starts to babble: “I can’t— I’m too close— I need you to cum before I do, baby— Need you to cum right now— Fuck.”

“Is your idea of dirty talk always this pathetic?” you would’ve joked if you weren’t already cumming for him. 

Your mouth falls agape in a silent moan as your head tips back into his palm. Your back arches as you reach the height of your pleasure, pussy fluttering through every wave of it. 

Eric fucks you the entire way through your orgasm — despite your nails biting crescent shapes into his shoulders, despite your velvety cunt tightening around him, despite the very overwhelming feeling that he might burst entirely.

Only when your body goes lax does he pull out of you. 

The empty feeling makes you whimper. Your weeping pussy clenches around nothing while Eric jerks himself off. You can’t see him, but you can feel his wrist moving in rapid motions between your legs. 

A groan rumbles deep in his throat as he tenses on top of you. His still body goes rigid. Something warm and wet spits on your inner thigh a second later — a heavy load of his pearly white cum, which he gives you three of before he’s milked himself dry.

Eric collapses on top of you when he’s officially spent. He forgets to hold up his weight, and you deliberately decide not to remind him. You let the man soak in the waves of his pleasure while you strain to reach the wicker basket at your side — struggling for a moment to find the handful of napkins at the very bottom, then using them to wipe up the mess on your thigh.

“Ah, shit,” Eric curses when he notices (his mess or his weight, you can’t quite tell). He sniffles and rolls off of you. “Sorry…”

Your head whips in his direction. You find his face all flushed, glowing red along the apples of his cheeks and the very tip of his nose. His eyes are big and wet, too, glassy like he might cry. 

Buzzing with concern, you rise to your knees, watching intently as Eric reaches for your discarded pile of clothes. You set them aside when he passes them to you and hold his face in your hands instead. His stubble scratches at your delicate palms. Your wide eyes sparkle with concern as they dart over his teary features.

“Hey… Hey, what happened?” you agonize. “Are you okay?”

Eric laughs at himself, then sniffles again as he wipes his nose with the back of his hand. “Yeah… So much for not being cliché, right?” he jokes.

“What happened?” you repeat, giggling this time at his crooked smile.

“Nothing,” he assures, shrugging his freckled shoulders. “I just… I’m just really happy, I guess…”

Your tight chest deflates with a sigh of relief as you nod in response. “Yeah… I am, too.”

Eric’s grin widens at your confession. His cheeks speckle a rosy color, like he’s pleasantly surprised by the response — as if his softening cock isn’t still sparkling with a mixture of your cum. 

You meet his smile with a scowl, rolling your eyes as you shove playfully at his shoulder. “Don’t look at me like that,” you grumble and turn away from him, reaching for your clothes. 

Your body looms over him as you stand, putting very little weight on your scarred leg. You bend at the waist to tug your underwear up your thighs.

Eric shoves his boxers on with a cheeky grin. “I’m really glad I found you, you know that, right? Even though you’re mean to me all the time?”

You scoff and drag your sports bra over your torso, yanking it at the hem to pull it over your breasts. “I’m happy you found me, too, stalker,” you respond in a monotone that would otherwise suggest the opposite. But Eric catches you smiling when you reach beside him for your shirt and knows you really mean it. 

“You love me,” he insists playfully, right before stealing a kiss from you. 

His lips only manage to brush the corner of your mouth in his haste, but he grins wide about it anyway. Your face screws like you weren’t begging him to fuck you ten minutes ago, as you wipe your cheek with the back of your hand.

“You’re disgusting…” he hears you mumbling as you turn away, tugging your shirt over your head. 

But he knows what you really mean.

[corroded-hellfire]

Summary: Sam has noticed how much you look at Eric, and encourages you to go for what you want because no one knows how much time there is left.

Note: I hope you enjoy this story about my dear sweet wet boy 🥰

Warnings: movie canon violence

Words: 3.6k

What meds do you need?

With a shaky hand, Sam reaches out and takes her notebook and marker from Eric. She hastily scribbles down a few words, her eyes blinking every few seconds as if she’s fighting off sleep.

Her thin arm drops off the side of the bench, weakly offering the notebook back to Eric. You watch his doe eyes scan over the words before he tears the paper out of the book.

Eric nods as he folds up the sheet and slips it into his pocket. He gives you a terse smile that you don’t have the energy to return. Your eyes follow him as he steps through the rubble and debris towards the front door of the church. 

The moment he’s out of sight, you push yourself off the dirty floor, grab Sam’s Bai, and take a seat next to her head on the bench. The struggle to lift her head is apparent so you quickly slide closer so her head can rest on your lap. She gives you a look of thanks before she sips from the bottle.

Once she finishes, Sam gestures to the notebook on the top of her “I heart NY” tote. Luckily, you can reach it without jostling her head too much. 

The marker scratches against the paper as she writes. It takes her a minute longer than it did for her to write out the medication she needs, so you’re curious about what it says as she hands it to you over her head. 

I see how you keep looking at him. You going to say anything or what?

Heat floods your face, and you swear everyone else in the church is able to read the note over your shoulder. Doing your best to shake it off, you write back a quick message before handing the notebook back to Sam.

Not allowed to speak at all.

She reads what you wrote and drops the notebook onto her chest, letting her eyes roll up so she can give you the most unamused glare you’ve ever seen. 

As if Frodo is also unimpressed with your answer, he crawls out from beneath the bench, stretches his front legs out with his tail in the air, then heads towards the door. 

Funny. Pretty sure your eyes have left him all of twice since we left the apartment. 

It had been pure luck seeing Sam and Eric come into the apartment building last night. The distinctly human footsteps walked past the door of your apartment on the fourth floor and your curiosity got the better of you. You’d been held up in your home since the start of whatever kind of invasion this is and the need to see another live human being was too strong to deny. Though this was just last night it feels like another lifetime ago.

This is possibly the end of the world, and you want me to what? Tell Eric I think he’s cute?

You can’t help but see the twisted humor in the fact that you and Sam are sitting in a dilapidated old church, in the middle of what seems to be an alien invasion, and the two of you are writing notes back and forth to one another like high school girls gossiping. 

I’m saying to go for what you want. We could be dead in a minute for all we know. Don’t waste your time.

It’s hard to argue that point with someone you know has limited time left. It’s even harder to argue because you know she’s right. But even though you’re in survival mode now, you’re still you and don’t find things like this easy. Call it insecurity or trauma from high school when the guy you had a massive crush on found out about it and laughed in your face. Things like that don’t just go away—even in the apocalypse.

We’re focusing on staying alive right now, Sam. 

You’re deflecting.

It’s just the truth.

It’s still deflecting. 

What do you want me to say, huh? I’m already scared for my life, I don’t need heartache on top of everything else right now.

Why do you think it would be heartache?

Because guys like him aren’t interested in girls like me.

Guys like him? Girls like you?

Yeah. Handsome, smart, kind. And me, not those things. I don’t need to feel like the rejected high school girl again right now. 

Are you shitting me? This isn’t high school. Either tell Eric how you feel or agonize over what could have been. 

Again, trying to survive right now.

So afterwards. On the boat out of here.

Maybe.

If I had the strength to wring your neck, I would. Cancer has fucked up my life but one thing it did do is show me how useless shame is. There’s no time for being embarrassed, it’s just a waste. 

Why do you care so much?

What? You’re not getting my loving and nurturing vibe?

Ha. But really.

You’re both good people who deserve to be happy. If you can find that in each other then I think you should at least try. 

Fine. On the boat. I’ll say something to him there.

Swear on Frodo.

That’s not fair.

Do it.

Fine, I swear on Frodo.

Sam seems content after that and closes her notebook and rests it on her abdomen. 

It seems somewhat like emotional blackmail when the woman dying of cancer makes you swear on her sweet, adorable service cat. 

The arguing (if you could call it that) has drained some of Sam’s energy and you see her eyes start to flutter closed. But a spark lights in her eyes, and she opens the notebook once more. At first you think she has something else to say to you about the whole crushing on Eric thing, but this sentence is for her.

My dad played beautiful piano.

A bittersweet smile rests on your lips. 

Sam tries to put the notebook back down on her bag, but a wince tells you that the effort is hurting her. Gently, you take the notebook from her and set it down. She nods her head in thanks. 

For the better part of an hour, Sam dozes on and off. It doesn’t seem like a particularly restful sleep she’s getting, but you hope it’s doing something to help her. 

When Eric comes back, Frodo leading him in, he looks exhausted. Not that any of you were in top form these days, but Eric looks even more haggard than when he left. Still cute, though. Unfairly cute.

As he walks towards you and Sam on the bench, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a box no bigger than a Polaroid picture. With a slight wince, Eric kneels next to Sam and begins getting the patch out and free from its adhesive. 

Sam tilts herself to the side and you help her turn enough that she can show Eric where to place it. 

Once it’s firmly on her skin and Sam is comfortably on her back again, it only takes a few minutes before the relief is visible. Her body has relaxed, her breathing down to a steady pace, and she looks the most at peace you've ever seen her. It feels like your heart has been run through with a sword when you think about all this poor woman must have gone through. 

“My dad played beautiful piano.”

Eric held Sam’s notebook in his hand, smiling at the few words. You just hope that’s the only page he stays on. He turns his head and meets Sam’s eyes.

“I loved it when he would bring me to watch him play,” Sam says, voice ragged and weak. “Then we’d get pizza at Patsy’s.”

That explains the odd insistence for pizza when the world is ending. 

“What happened to him?” you ask softly.

There are a few moments where Sam doesn’t speak, and you begin to think she’s not going to answer you. 

“He died,” she says. The pain in her watery eyes is palpable. You would want to wrap her up in a hug if she weren’t in so much pain. “Like I am now.”

The sad truth said out loud at last. You haven’t heard either of them say it up to this point. 

“Not before we get pizza,” Eric tells her. 

A small smile ticks up the corners of Sam’s mouth. 

“Not before we get pizza,” she agrees. 

The ship is leaving the port. It’s not too far out so it would be possible for you all to still secure passage on it. But then the dread in your stomach grows as you watch creature after creature step onto the sandy shore. They take great care to stay far enough away from the water, though. 

You, Sam, Eric, and Frodo trudge through the wreckage of cars and building debris scattered along the road. 

The four of you drop behind the carcass of an old van, all of you pressing your backs up against the tarnished metal. 

A shuddering breath comes from next to you and your head whips towards Eric, who is between you and Sam. His eyes tear up and he grits his teeth, trying to ward off the anxiety that’s creeping up.

Sam immediately presses a hand to Eric’s chest and in the lowest whisper possible says, “Breathe.”

You take one of Eric’s hands in your own and give it an encouraging squeeze. Hoping he’ll follow your lead, you take a large breath in, then let it out. It helps a bit, but the anxiety is so strong. How could it not be in the situation you’re all prisoners to?

Your eyes move from Eric to Sam as you watch her nuzzle her face against Frodo and press kisses to his black and white fur. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think she’s saying goodbye to him. Then she hands Frodo to Eric, and it hits you. She was saying goodbye to Frodo. Instinct tells you to fight her on this, but how can you? One, you can’t speak. And two, who are you to tell her not to do this? If it were you, you’d rather go out trying to save the lives of your companions rather than let a vicious disease let you waste and wither away, slowly and painfully as the world ends around you. Sam is thinking that her life is almost up, and she’d rather buy yours and Eric’s lives with the short time she has left.

Sam pushes herself into a crouch as Eric clings to Frodo, holding him close to his chest. You let go of Eric’s hand so he can hold onto the cat better—Lord knows he’s already run away enough times. 

“Run,” Sam whispers. 

Before she takes off, you look her in the eye and nod your head once. Between that and the tears building in your eyes, you hope she sees your acknowledgment of what she’s doing and all the gratitude you can convey to her. 

Sam nods in return, telling you she knows. Then, she’s gone. You see her crouch down behind cars as she makes her way through the lot. She picks up a crowbar and smashes it through a still-intact window of a car.

The smashing glass catches the attention of the creatures, and you know the time to move is now. Looking at one another, both you and Eric take a deep breath before getting up from behind the car. 

Monsters rush past you, leaving you almost no room to dodge them as they race in the direction of the noise Sam is making. It seems like a miracle once the two of you see the dock ahead, no creatures between you and there.

Your sprint turns into a run, Eric keeping pace right beside you as he holds Frodo securely against him. A few steps onto the pier, Eric’s foot kicks a large metal can that skids a few feet away. It clangs as it tumbles, and the monsters hear it. 

There’s no need for you to look back; you know they’re coming. All energy reserves go into your legs as you run faster. The rail around the dock is broken in one place, giving you and Eric the perfect opportunity to jump into the water. 

But they’re getting closer.

You can hear the monsters gaining on you, and a quick glance shows one leaping in the air, aiming to land right on top of you, Eric, and Frodo. But you jump. The flash of yellow beside you brings immense relief as you hit the water—both of you jumped in time. 

As you surface, you look back and see a gang of creatures waiting at the exact spot you and Eric leapt from. Two heads pop up next to you, one human and one cat, both safe. If this were any other circumstance, you would probably chuckle at how Frodo looks all wet. 

Eric gazes back at the land with you and you both see Sam, standing between two dedicated cars.

Shouts come from the ship behind you, encouraging you to swim over to them. Without saying a word to each other though, both you and Eric take the time to look back at Sam. To watch her, this brave woman in every sense of the word. There could never be a way for either of you to thank her enough, but you hope she feels some semblance of it. 

Wide brown eyes meet yours as you turn towards Eric. The two of you bob in the water for a few moments, looking at each other as you attempt to catch your breaths. Now it’s time to get to the boat. It’s time to get to safety.

Once the three of you have made it to the boat, you’re helped on board and assured that you’re safe now. Blankets are brought to wrap around you, Eric, and one for Frodo as well. 

It seems impossible to attempt relaxation after the last few days’ events, but there’s nothing else to do as the ship sails slowly along. Where it’s headed, you don’t know. You don’t particularly care at the moment, either. 

You, Eric, and Frodo make yourself comfortable in a small alcove on deck. It feels like you fall in a heap together, collective exhaustion kicking in. You weren’t even aware of how tired you were until this moment. The adrenaline finally starts to wear off and you lay your head down on Eric’s shoulder. You don’t intend to, but you quickly fall asleep against him.

When you wake, your head is still on Eric. Slowly, you sit up straight and smile when you see Frodo sleeping on Eric’s chest, all curled up in his blanket. Eric’s gaze catches yours and the moment you look into the beautiful brown eyes that make your knees weak, you remember what you promised Sam. On the boat. I’ll say something to him there.

After everything you’ve been through, you now understand clearer than ever what Sam meant about there being no time for embarrassment. No one knows if the next moment is their last, and do you really want to regret keeping your feelings inside? No. Plus, there was absolutely no way you could break your word to Sam after what she just did for you. 

“Eric,” you start, unsure of how to phrase what you want to say. He looks at you, waiting for you to continue. Gathering your nerve, you do. “I want…I have to tell you something.”

“Sure. Anything.”

Another deep breath. Sam’s voice whispers in your head, you can do this.

“I don’t, um, know where we’re going. Or what’s going to happen next. I can’t even begin to think about that, really. B-But I do know that I would like to stay with you for as long as you’ll let me. I like being with you.”

A shy smile grows on Eric’s face, and he nods his head. 

“I like being with you, too,” he says. “I’d love to stick with you.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. But can I ask you…is it because you think I’m cute?” Eric is trying his hardest not to smirk, but the look of surprise on your face threatens to overtake him.

“I-I…”

“Or well,” Eric says, reaching into his pocket. He pulls out a crumpled piece of paper and holds it between the two of you, “at least that’s what you told Sam.”

Your eyes dart down to the paper, and you recognize your and Sam’s handwriting. A gasp startles out of you as you realize it’s the note you and she passed back and forth in the church.

Eric is full on grinning when you look at his face again. His shoulders shake as he chuckles, and his laugh is infectious. You start giggling yourself and bring your hands up to cover your eyes.

“Oh my God, she ripped it out of the notebook and shoved it in her pocket? She thought I was gonna wimp out!”

Neither of you can stop laughing now. After being so scared and quiet for so long, it just feels so good. 

Eric pulls out another piece of paper and hands it to you.

“She also wrote us this sweet note.”

The letter from Sam makes you smile, cry, and oddly, feel some form of peace. She’s home. 

“Aw, Frodo,” you say as you fold the note back up. “You would be the handsomest boy even if you did get fat. But no, we’re not going to feed you too much.”

Eric chuckles and holds his arm open for you. You gladly accept the invite and curl up against his side. The scent of the salt water, wet cat, and the mustiness from the blankets do nothing to cover the scent that is pure Eric. You rest your forehead against his neck as he wraps his arm snugly around you and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“You know,” he says softly as he lays his head against yours, “I came very close to getting you and I killed multiple times.”

“What?” You frown as you reach your hand out to stroke the top of Frodo’s head. “How?”

“Well, when I first saw you, when you stepped out of your apartment, I didn’t say anything. Not only because I couldn’t, but I was speechless. You’re so pretty and I froze. Sam had to push me three or four times to get me to walk again. And then there were so many times I’d just look at you and almost blurt out how beautiful you are. Because your beauty is something that’s impossible to keep quiet about. Then I got to know how kind you are. So compassionate, brave, selfless. Your beauty runs farther than skin deep and it made me even more of a bumbling idiot.”

You can’t help but giggle as you bury your head farther into the juncture where his neck and shoulder meet. 

“But I do have a bone to pick with you,” Eric says.

Reluctantly, you pick your head up to look him in the eye.

“Why?” you ask, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion.

He picks the note between you and Sam back up and begins to read a part aloud.

“Why do you think it would be heartache?

Because guys like him aren’t interested in girls like me.

Guys like him? Girls like you?

Yeah. Handsome, smart, kind. And me, not those things. I don’t need to feel like the rejected high school girl again right now.”

He lowers the note and shakes his head.

“Now, I don’t know what kind of absolute prats you went to high school with, but anyone who rejected you is, quite literally, insane. And I don’t like this talk about ‘girls like you.’ You make it seem like such a bad thing to be you. But you’re possibly one of the best people I’ve ever met. And I know that after only knowing you for about two days. And it didn’t take me more than four seconds to see how stunning you are. Frodo and I want you to see yourself the way we do. Right, boy?”

Both of you look down at the snoozing cat and you scratch between his ears with a chuckle.

“I’ll work on it,” you say earnestly. 

Frodo tilts his head and you let your hand drop. You lift your head and Eric is so close. It would barely take any movement for his lips to be on yours. So, you make that move. The hand that was petting Frodo comes up to cup Eric’s jaw as you lean in and press your lips against his.

Eric’s body immediately sinks against yours, holding you tighter as he kisses you back with urgency. It’s as if he remembers the two of you have more time now and he can savor this moment as he slows the kiss down, enjoying exploring your mouth at a lazy speed. There’s no rush anymore. You’re safe and both here together. 

When you part, he rests his forehead against yours and you’re pretty sure there are identical grins on both of your faces. 

“I can’t wait to hear your laugh over and over again,” you tell him.

“I can’t wait to hear you say my name,” he replies.

“Eric.” It’s the first time you’ve been able to say it above the lowest of whispers. “Eric, Eric, Eric.”

His grin grows even larger, and he presses a quick kiss to your lips.

“God, I love the sound of that.”

[kitscutie]

hush (eric, a quiet place x fem!reader)

pairing: eric!aqp x reader

warnings: injuries, blood, just general pain but comfort too!!

summary: after you obtain an injury which requires stitches, you do your best to keep absolutely silent.

a/n: requests for eric open :)

word count: 744

You and Eric emerged from a hole in the ground beneath the church, the water you had just escaped seemed stained red as you turned, pulling yourself up and onto the marble flooring.

You knew you were hurt, would be stupid not too seeing as there was a burning coming from your shin though it was diluted through shock.

You were pulled from your focus on the pain as Erics arms wrapped under your armpits, lifting you until your legs were completely out of the ground.

You turned to face him as he lifted a hand to his lips, reminding you to be quiet. As if you'd forgotten.

He lay you down gently against a pile of rubble, quickly searching through the group of others in the church for help, 'doctor?' scribbled onto the back of his hand in the ink of a pen he found at the churches alter.

Finally after minutes of staring at the ceiling, eyes drifting in and out of consciousness he returned. Stood behind him wearily was an older woman, maybe sixty five-ish? In her past life she was a nurse, before the monsters came crashing onto New York City.

She seemingly collected a dust covered first-aid kit, hung on the wall near the entrance. You prayed there was actually enough in there to save your leg, though you doubted there would be blood- of which you were losing by the litre.

'The quicker it's closed, the better." He wrote onto a note pad, handwriting scribbled in his hurry.

"Closed?" You mouthed, under the impression you would simply need bandages. Lifting your head up you watched as the woman threaded string through a needle. You knew what that meant.

You began frantically shaking your head at Eric, 'No, no, no.' being mouthed repeatedly as your pupils dilated in panic.

"I'm sorry." He mouthed back moving you to lie between his legs, head in his lap. Your efforts to escape proved helpless as your pain emerged through any shock left over though you were confident stitches would hurt more.

He wrapped his own arms around yours, effectively tying them down. Your breathing turned rapid and shallow, panic setting in as you accepted all the pain you were about to feel.

The first time the needle went in you felt nothing. And then whit, hot burning pain. Your back shot up off the ground, a silent scream leaving your mouth as tears spilled from your eyes uncontrollably.

Eric did all he could, shushing you silently, eyes dark and filled with guilt. Though it didn't ease the pain- nothing could. No amount of sweet nothing and comfort that you couldn't actually hear would help.

He watched in his own emotional pain as your fists turned white, breathing only getting quicker, and quicker as each stitch pierced your skin.

He could no longer bear it, leaning down so his forehead touched yours in an attempt to give you solace. Your cries grew heavier, soft sobs leaving you. Panicked that soon enough they would become loud he put his mouth so close to your ear you could feel every hair on his chin as he spoke.

"You're okay, it's okay." He repeated like a prayer. Were you okay? It wasn't truly clear. Hearing it from him though, Eric with his soft British twang brought you back to reality, even if it did come in the form of a shaky whisper.

This time when he shushed you with gentle care it was audible and soothing. Your breathing slowed but the tears and pain never ended, you could only hope the stitches were almost complete.

He kept his forehead against your own but brought a hand away from your arm, instead reaching up to wipe your burning tears away, thumb moving back and forth smudging ash into your skin.

As he moved away, your eyes stayed locked with his, attempting to disassociate from this moment and focus instead on him. His curly hair, brown eyes, dirty collar which looked pristine and ironed fifteen hours ago. It all brought you pain to think of now- the simple things like clean clothes which didn't smell like smoke but nothing hurt more than the look on his face as he starred at you, as though you were broken.

You never liked that term, never like being viewed as weak or vulnerable though in this moment you had never been so grateful to have someone like him by your side, protecting you and you him.

[pasukiyo]

PERHAPS, PERHAPS, PERHAPS.

eric (a quiet place: day one) x f!reader word count: 2,894 warnings: a little bit of violence summary: perhaps it's chance. perhaps it's happenstance. but perhaps it is fate. perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.

 Hands find the sleeve of her sweater and she’s pulled backwards, her lips parting in a gasp as she turns. A woman, with dark hair beginning to fade into gray, locks her hands around her wrist, trembling. 

 “Please!” The woman shrieks. “I don’t know where to go! I need help! Please! Help me!”

 She’s frozen, her mouth opens and closes but nothing comes out because the truth is, she’s just as helpless. She wishes she could help, she really does, but she’s alone in a foreign city while the world around her falls apart and all she knows to do is run. 

 She tries to shake off the woman, but she only tightens her grip, and it’s not until she screams again that she lets go. It happens in a blur. One moment the woman is on her arm and the next she’s taken away by one of those things. She can’t even process what they look like because they move so fast. 

 She stumbles backwards as a car alarm sounds and she only just manages to duck in enough time to avoid being crushed as the airborne vehicle flies overhead, crashing into the building behind her. Her teeth catch her bottom lip and she whimpers, holding her head in either of her hands. Screams sound and die, wheels screech, vehicles crash, windows shatter, people are torn apart and it’s all just too loud. 

 She sinks to her knees in the middle of the chaos-ridden street and covers her ears, the hot water in her eyes falling fast down the apples of her cheeks. She feels utterly alone and only now does the weight of her family’s abrupt deaths begin to seep in, like poison injecting itself into her veins and wearing down her bones. 

 She wonders if this is it— if today is the day she dies. 

 She wonders if she should just stay here: on the ground, unmoving, waiting for death to take her. 

 It’s harder to breathe than ever now and she can’t calm herself down, can’t even focus on inhaling a steady breath. The ground quakes below and she thinks something explodes, but it’s hard to hear over the ringing in her ears. She only thinks to duck until she faces the ground as smoke pervades the air and ash falls and all she can see is gray. Her hearing is only just coming back to her when she hears a scream— whether it was her own or somebody else’s, she’s uncertain— but all she knows is in the next moment, everything is black. 

 The world is still black when she hears her name. She stirs and thinks it must be death calling upon her but then she hears her name again and it sounds… real. Still, she does not open her eyes, lingering in that state between waking and oblivion. 

 The voice calls her name again and suddenly it sounds… familiar. She’s heard it before but she’s unsure where. She must be dead, she thinks. 

 But is the afterlife supposed to feel so… real? As in, she feels the warmth of fabric above her and thinks it must be a blanket, the cushion of what she can only think can be a pillow beneath her head. She can feel her feet, so she moves them, and she can feel something soft underneath them, something her entire body can feel. It must be a mattress she sleeps on but how when only a moment ago, her knees were on the asphalt of a crumbling street?

 Her name is called again and this time, she feels a weight on her shoulder, a hand. It suddenly registers that she isn’t in the city at all but rather somewhere else entirely different and her eyelids snap open at the realization. A shadow looks over her and she pushes herself to sit upright, her throat tightening as she tries to blink the blurriness away from her vision.

 “Hey!” The voice calls again, the hand on her shoulder firmer. The silhouette before her warps and moves and it must be the source of the voice but her muscles remain taut with panic. “It’s me! It’s just me.”

 She tries to draw air into her lungs but it’s hard when she can hardly make out where she is and the hand falls from her shoulder to instead find her cheek, pulling her face towards the shadow. Her chest rises and falls with her breaths as she continues trying to make out the face of the shadow before her. 

 “It’s me!” The voice says again. “It’s Eric!”

 Eric. 

 The shape in front of her finally materializes and indeed, it is Eric. His brows are drawn in concern, his big, signature doe eyes round and searching hers. Her mouth feels dry and it opens and closes multiple times before he places his hand on her chest, right over her pounding heart. She glances down to his palm, watching as it rises and falls with her breaths before his other hand reaches for her chin. 

 Their eyes meet and for a moment, it’s like the world stills and it is only him she can see. His eyes are so dark a brown that they seem to merge with the sea of black in its midst and she thinks she will lose herself if she stares too long. His lips move to form the words “breathe” and “it’s over now, you’re safe” and it seems easier now that she’s rapt in his eyes, shining like dark topaz. 

 Her chin rises as she inhales and she focuses on his hand on her chest as her head dips with her exhale. Air floods her lungs and the world begins to turn again.

 “Okay?” Eric asks carefully, his hand no longer on her chest but still hovering above just in case. She takes another deep breath before she nods, sniffing. It’s only now set in that she was sleeping and she was living a nightmare, or rather, reliving her nightmare. 

 It’s been three months since day one, since the nightmares began and every day since has been long, some longer than others. Every day since the first sort of happened in a blur, but she remembers the day she met Eric like it was yesterday. 

 She remembers the boat, the boy with the cat who she’d just watched escape death before he swam to his new beginning. She remembers the conversations they had on the (what felt like at the time) seemingly never-ending boat ride, the vow they didn’t speak aloud but seemed to silently agree on that they’d stick together, and they did, even when they arrived on the island. She remembers it all and so she pulls the boy in front of her into her until she can rest her head on his shoulder, fingers clutching his white t-shirt. 

 His arms wrap around her middle and hold her close, his breath warm as it threads through her hair, seeping down to her scalp. Her nails burrow into his shirt, deep enough to snag skin underneath and her heart pounds against her ribcage, dread creeping up her spine at the realization that she doesn’t want to let go. When he inevitably begins to pull away, she sinks her nails into his shoulders like the claws of a cat and a crease forms between his brows. 

 “What is it?” He asks and she swallows, brows pinched together. “Will you stay with me?” She questions and his expression softens, nodding as he lets go of one of her shoulders to gesture with his thumb behind him. 

 “Yeah, you know I’ll always be right over there,” he says, referring to the small sofa bed across the room. He gives her bicep a reassuring squeeze and turns, moving to pull away again but she finds his hand, clasping it between hers as tight as she possibly can. 

  “No, I mean will you…” she pauses, sighing as blood bites her cheeks, filling them with color. “…will you lay with me?” She finishes quieter, his hand growing warm in hers. 

 He turns to face her again and when their eyes meet, silence strings between them. She swears she can see him connecting the dots until realization washes over him and finally, he understands. He blinks again, once down to the bed and once to the open space beside her. On his next blink, color floods his cheeks and he nods, lifting up the blanket to slide underneath it. Their legs touch for the briefest of moments and either of their breaths hitch. His skin lingers for a heartbeat before it’s gone and she has to take in another deep breath through her nostrils to quell her quaking heart. 

 They both settle themselves down on the mattress and it creaks beneath either of their weight. She holds her breath again, still under the guise that one of those things will come snatch her away at the smallest of sounds, but the reminder that they are on the island, that they are safe fills her with some solace. Even though the relief never stays long. The past always comes back to haunt her, as if some sort of evil spirit has made it its sole mission to taunt her. 

 “Hey,” Eric whispers and she turns, realizing he was looking at her. “Are you alright?”

 She nods, sniffing again. “Sorry, I’m just… thinking,” she replies, blinking back towards the ceiling. “I had another nightmare.” He sighs beside her and she hears the sheets shift a little as he adjusts his weight. “It’s okay. I get them too.”

 It’s easy to forget she’s not the only one who experienced the horrors of the invasion, that she isn’t the only one who lost things, people. She forgets she’s not the only one who is haunted by what transpired that day and she peers back over towards Eric. He stares up at the ceiling, his hands neatly folded on top of his stomach and his lips pursed. He taps his fingers against the back of his hands a little awkwardly, as if he wants to speak but isn’t sure what to say. So instead, he remains silent, waiting for the moment he succumbs to sleep. 

 “Tell me about England,” her voice fills that void between them and he almost flinches, snapping his head towards her, an incredulous look upon his face. “What?” He says as if he hadn’t heard her the first time. The corners of her lips twitch, “tell me about England,” she repeats. “I’ve always wanted to go. And well… it doesn’t look like I’ll be going any time soon.”

 He exhales and it almost mimics a laugh but it dies as soon as he rolls his head to face the ceiling once again. He stares into the darkness above, sifting through the memories he has of home. The truth is, it’s been so long since he’s been home, the memories are already beginning to fade away. His mother, his father, his little sister, their cat, his childhood home, the town he grew up in. The more days that pass, the farther away all those things seem. He can still see them toward the horizon but they’re fading behind shadows. He fears that soon enough, they’ll be nothing more than black shapes out in the distance, too far away to make sense of what they are. 

 For a moment, she wonders if he’s going to speak at all. Frodo purrs as he leaps onto the bed, curling into a ball at their feet. And then, Eric finally speaks. 

 “Growing up, I never thought where I grew up was small until I came to the States,” he begins. “Did you know that the entire population of New York City is over four times the population of Kent?” 

 Her lips curve into a tight, genuine grin and she shakes her head. “No,” she replies and he scoffs. “It’s crazy,” he mutters. “I’d never seen so many people in one place before in my life.”

 She laughs again and this time, her grin splits her face and when Eric turns, his gaze lingers. She stares back, finding his eyes even in the darkness. Even in the dark, she can see the way they soften in searching. Whether it is her or his memories he is searching, she is not sure. She grows warm at the sudden awareness of their closeness and she has to turn away again to ease the erratic beating of her heart, folding her hands just beneath it, sucking in a deep breath. 

 Eric clears his throat. Then he continues, “there was this bakery around the corner from my house. My sister and I practically kept that place afloat all on our own with how many times we went.” 

 She turns and watches his side profile as a soft smile curves his lips and she thinks to herself, how can she possibly look away? Neither one of them ever really talked about their life before the invasion much, but maybe they should’ve tried sooner, if he was going to look the way he does now. It’s the brightest she’s ever seen him, the fastest he’s ever talked. His eyes gleam at just the mere mention of home and she wants to know more, wants to learn more about him. 

 “Have you ever had focaccia?” He asks, turning to find she’s already staring and she raises a brow. 

 “Ever had what?” 

 His brow furrows and he looks almost offended, a hand on his chest in mock offense. “Do the Americans not feed you focaccia?” She laughs, shrugging. “I honestly have no idea what you’re even talking about,” she replies and he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

 “It’s only, like, the finest bread in the world,” he says. “But the best is at the bakery near home. It’s the focaccia of all focaccia. Their focaccia beats all focaccia.”

 She chuckles, “I’ll have to take your word for it then.”

 “Well, anyway, my sister and I would get focaccia from that bakery everyday after school,” he blinks, brow dipping. “Except Wednesdays. They were always closed Wednesdays. I always hated Wednesdays because of it.”

 She cannot help it anymore so she laughs, her shoulders wracking with the sheer power of the action. She clasps a hand over her mouth to attempt to suppress any embarrassing chortles and Eric sputters, the mere beginning of his own laugh. 

 It’s something she can’t remember doing last: laughing. At least, genuinely laughed. It must’ve been before the first day but that day feels so long ago that she can’t place a finger on nearly anything before it. 

 So this feels good. It feels like things can be almost perfect, because even if this lighthearted feeling is only fleeting, in the moment, it feels right. It feels right to be here with Eric, laughing over a life that neither one of them will ever have again. Laughing even as the world crumbles around them. Laughing as they pretend that everything is okay, if only temporarily. 

 There are tears in her eyes now from how hard she’s laughing and she blinks them away, peering over at Eric through her watercolor vision. He’s still coming down from the high his laughter gave him when she reaches over, fingers finding his arm. 

 “Eric?”

 He hiccups with laughter, “yeah?”

 She sniffs and bites back another laugh. “Can I kiss you?”

 Maybe it's the spur of the moment. Maybe it’s just happenstance. Or maybe, just maybe, it was meant to be. 

 She doesn’t know. 

 But none of it matters right now. 

 Because his gaze drops to her lips and when he looks up, she finds he wants her just as much as she realizes she wants him too. 

 Eric says nothing, only reaches for her, his hand finding the back of her head to pull her in and her arms wrap around his neck and then their lips are one. They fit together in the perfect mold, as if it truly was just as she thought: meant to be. 

 Perhaps, Eric was who she was meant to find all along. End of the world or not, life— at least on Eric’s end, it was more chance on hers— brought them both to New York at the same time and she can’t help but wonder, as his tongue swirls her mouth, whether she would’ve found him anyways. 

 Perhaps they would’ve run into each other on the street. Perhaps, even on the subway. Maybe they would’ve walked into the same restaurant at the same time and locked eyes. Or maybe they would’ve gone to the same shops, the same hotel, perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. 

 An arm slithers around her waist and draws her into his chest and she knows that this is fate. It simply can’t not be. 

 She pulls away for a moment, just so either of them can catch their breaths, and their eyelids peel open and seemingly nothing else matters. There’s a sort of silent understanding between them— Eric must feel the same. 

 And that’s enough. It’s all she needs to be okay again, to want to live. 

 They crash into one another again, like two stars in a stellar collision. She burns brighter than she ever has before and they melt into one another and relish the notion that this is enough. 

a/n; saw a quiet place day one the other day and i think writing an eric fic was inevitable so... HERE YOU GO! i hope you all enjoy this one and let me know if you'd like for me to write up more eric fics! i'd love to explore this character some more :)

🤍 if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging or even leaving a reply to let me know! ✨

[jksprincess10]

Storm || Eric x reader

A/N: I fear I'm back in my Joe Quinn phase after watching a quiet place day one, don't look at me.

Summary: There's a thunderstorm and you can finally make noise.

CW: fluff, smut, eric is kinda shy and soft, reader has a bush, pre-established relationship implied, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, eric loves eating pussy, protected p in v, reader is a tad more dominant, minimal editing.

(1.3k words)

divider by @saradika-graphics

There is only one way to make love when any sound could lead to death: silently.

But when the outside is louder, when thunder tears the sky apart, when rain pitter-patters loudly against the asphalt, you can be as loud as you want.

In the darkness of your apartment, the first flash of thunder and the trickle of the rain provokes immediate joy. He knows too, his usually big, innocent eyes veiled by lust. Like Pavlov’s dog, Eric knows how to react when the outside sounds get louder and louder.

“Yes.” You immediately confirm what you want, and he gives in to you.

You wrap your hands around his neck as he brings you into a soaring kiss that makes you moan against his plush lips. You feel like you’re outside in the rain, drowning. Your fingers trail down his neck until you come across his first buttons, that you undo expertly, along with tossing aside his ridiculous tie. Despite everything, Eric still insisted on dressing like the lawyer student he once was.

Under the soft candlelight, you discover his pale skin, his soft body like it’s the first time. He takes care of your sweater, pulling it over your head.

“You’re beautiful.” You whisper, out of habit.

“Stop.” Eric reacts, his voice under the flow of his British accent. “You are.”

His arms are around your waist, pulling you close as he nuzzles your breasts that you hadn’t bothered covering up with a bra (who cares it’s the fucking end of the world, right?). The tip of his tongue shyly teases the tip of a hard nipple. Too used of being gentle, quiet.

“More, please.” You beg softly.

He sucks the flesh into his warm mouth, and your body arches against his chest, pushing your ass into his careful hands. Eric’s right hand come up to your other breast, caressing and squeezing the fat until you’re letting out pretty moans for him. 

Your hands come down to his leather belt, that you’re soon discarding on the floor with a loud metal clank. But you don’t care, as the thunder is already responding even louder. You’re both taking each other’s pants off embarrassingly fast, and he’s pushing you on your couch until you’re splayed out for him, a beautiful painting under a warm glow, occasional cold light revealing more. His nose traces your covered mound, inhaling the soft laundry scent of your floral panties.

The rain is still pouring, taping violently against your apartment windows as he pulls down your panties, freeing the dark curls and the wetness of your slit.

“You never told me if it bothered you –”

“What? This?” He’s asking as a finger curls around some of the untamed hair. His tone is almost mocking, and you feel your cheeks heating up.

“Yes.”

“I quite like it, actually. You look like a woman. And this is what I want. ” He punctuates his words with an index trailing over your slit, making you shudder. Your fingers tangle in his unruly, soft brown curls, pushing him closer to where you want him. You know he can never resist eating pussy, it’s probably his favorite meal. He spreads your lips with his fingers, keeping you open for him as his pink tongue lays flat against your slit, caressing and experimenting.

As the thunder growls, you remember you can show him your appreciation freely. Your mouth hangs open, and as his plush lips latch around your clit, you moan his name. And it’s the most beautiful song he has ever heard.

“You’re always so good to me, Eric.” You praise him softly, the tips of his ears reddening when you compliment him.

Eric sucks even harder before letting go to caress all of you with the flat of his tongue. Your ass lifts off the couch without really wanting too, pushing more of you into his mouth. He licks and sucks messily, wet sounds filling the air. You like him like this, free and disheveled. One of his fingers breach your hole, stretching you slowly. You want to tell him you won’t break, but you don’t know how, your mind blurry with pleasure.

A strangled “more” is all you can let out, and he listens, pushing another finger in. He thrusts them almost all the way out, then in, curling them at the right angle as his numb tongue keeps sucking. You fall apart just in time for the next thunder crack, a cry coming out of your throat as you gush around Eric’s fingers. His lips are wet with your juices as he comes up for air, climbing on the couch to kiss you. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him on top of you as you lay down.

“Make love to me.” You whisper against his lips, your hands trailing down his body to take off his boxer briefs. Your hand circles the base, teasing his cock with a slow movement of up-and-down, momentarily distracting you from your wish.

“Don’t you want me to make love to you?” He whispers in your hair in an amused tone.

“Yes. But I like this. I like touching you.”

Eric chuckles and pushes your hand away. “Stop. I want you.”

 He gets up momentarily to get a condom and covers his cock with it, pumping himself as he gazes down at the perfection that you are, laid peacefully on the couch. You rarely look as relaxed, and he cherishes those moments when you’re not fearing for your life.

You beckon him closer with a movement of your fingers, and he lays on top of you. He’s always so careful with you.

“Hold me.” You wrap your legs around his middle and push him closer. His arms wrap around your neck as he fills you up, slowly, inch by inch. Your eyes flutter closed; you can barely see the violent lightning anymore; you can only hear it. But you try to concentrate on Eric’s heavy breathing in your ear. He stops when his hips are flush with yours, just holding you peacefully.

“I love you.”

You don’t know if you’ll live to see another day, but you love him and it’s the only certainty.

“I love you, too.” He kisses your brow, your nose, and your lips. You keep him there, your tongue tangling with his as he starts moving gently.  Your moans die in his mouth, and you realize how much you crave him, harder, faster. You push him off you and he looks at you with concern until climb on top of him.

“You won’t break me. Fuck me like you mean it. Fuck me like it’s our last day alive.”

You align him with your pussy, and you sink down. His reprieve is short, as you’re already bouncing on top of him. He moans obscenities, covered by the sound of the rain. His hands wrap tightly around your hips and his thrusts meet yours in a chaotic, unsynchronized dance that you both make work. The two of you are letting out cries freely, and it’s somehow liberating.

“Come for me, Eric.” You let out between strangled moans.

He slows down, thrusting harder and deeper.

“Not before you, love. Touch yourself.”

You anchor yourself to the couch with a hand on the leather underneath your bodies, your free hand coming down to play with your clit. You try not to fall as he keeps fucking up into you, in a slow but rough pace.

“That’s it baby. God, you’re so hot.” He says it like it’s physically hurting him.

With another one of his deep thrusts, your walls tighten around him and you come with a final moan. You then let him use you, until he’s also done. Your body falls on top of his, and you caress his sweaty curls as he whispers sweet nothings to you.

You love storms.

[wroteclassicaly]

18+

A/N: Just a little blurb to kickstart my writing for this character off ;)

Pairings: Eric x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, vaginal fingering, NSFW.

He’s always like this with you. Gentle, clarifying your wants and desires without words — your consent. That’s never changed, even when the silence has to begin again, when no one knows how safe this island can be. There’s a stillness to your candlelit nights - this one being no different. It’s been a few weeks since you’ve settled into your small tent, most residences being established for those that have come a new.

But having a skylight zip in the roof of your tent and a relatively soft mattress, knowing you’ll have fresh water and food, light conversation in the mornings, a sunrise above water, and a makeshift family — you consider yourself amongst heavenly luck.

With Frodo out frolicking tonight with your neighbor’s cat Prudence, it leaves you and Eric alone in the tent for an hour. He’s been reading his book by the candle light, alternating between drawing his fingers down the wooden sconce, to staring at you through hooded, enriching pools of chocolate. All of this is still new, your two year long online relationship, various letters and video chats, with the arrangement to meet in New York in person, only to receive a text that sounded like a goodbye, hours after landing, but then the invasion happened and you had zero time to look for him, assuming the worst, to ultimately meeting again on the boat. He still looks at you as if he’s known you his whole life, in person. With newly shared trauma, to old shared conditions - you’re honestly not sure you’d be sane right now.

Tap. Tap.

A warm hand pinches the skin of your calve. It causes you to look up from your mindless doodling. He’s got that little soft smile, the flame of the candle dancing in the blown expanse of his pupils. His brows pinch together, his curls drooping over his forehead as he nods for a confirmation in his request. He comes closer and your agreement, knees rustling the sheets and the comforter.

He props himself beside you, one hand cupping your jaw, bringing you in to nuzzle your nose. With the exception of fires crackling, crickets chirping, some residents still up, and the distant sound of the water lapping at the shoreline — all remains a comfortable kind of tranquil. You feel his mouth on your jawline first, fingers tilting you to maintain direction. You push your book aside, listening to the light smacks of his lips as he sucks in the flesh of your neck, lightly biting down, only to release and soothe. His spare hand, it finds its way up your nightdress, resting on your knees, kneading, rolling his palm, until it splays, his dipping fingers tapping your skin.

He pulls away from the divide between your neck and shoulder, mouth red and panting, licking his teeth as his hand leaves your land and his pointer and middle finger make a spreading motion. Your heart drops into your guts, entangled and stifling the air in your lungs. You can’t tug your panties down fast enough, sliding against his chest, taking his own stubble bitten chin into your grip for a kiss as he lets his hand cup your heat, a groan slipping into your mouth. It gets harder to cover when you feel him press at your entrance, teasing the muscle, getting you so worked up that you have to stare him down with your pleading eyes that he’s so fond of. You take two digits with ease, rocking your hips, taking what you need from him, letting him spoil you.

It’s a lewd sound, one that someone couldn’t miss if they were to pass your tent. Eric’s breaths are coming out choppy across your lips, his lap swollen with need. But sometimes, it’s about giving you pleasure that gets him off the most. And you, you’re sure every creature across the world can hear how fast your heart is beating. Your body zoned out, only honing in on Eric, facing him as you near your climax.

It’s going to be strong, you both know it. He sees through his haze enough to cup your mouth with his spare hand as you tighten around his fingers, crying into his rapid pulse, that is buried beneath his wrist. You’re trembling, whimpering, and it attacks that aching fire in his belly, licking, and causes him lower his face into your jugular, warmth spurting from between his thighs and into his boxers. You hold one another through it, smiling against a sweaty daze, and he kisses you again, one finger dropping to write I Love You inside of your wrist.

[justmeinadaze]

3, 2, 1... (Eric from AQPD1 & You)

A/N: Some people asked if I was going to write for Eric and its about time I do something for one of Joe's other characters. Please enjoy this treat I bear you! <3

Warnings: Eric from A Quiet Place: Day One and Fem Y/N, SMUT, very loving, FLUFF, established relationship, ANGST, obviously apocalypse, anxiety and PTSD mentioned, nothing too drastic (but I can make a part 2 that's more angsty if you want 😈 )

Word Count: 3240

Donate to me :)

You missed so many things since the world went quiet. 

You missed the bustle of students arriving on campus for class at the law school you attended. You missed the sound of the music playing at the café where you studied for exams or case notes for your internship. You missed watching movies at the drive in you took your boyfriend to on the rural side of New York and the way his eyes lit up at the sights around him. The way he would laugh with a loud “HA!” that had you giggling at the noise. 

But more than anything… you missed the sound of Eric’s voice. 

The way he would excitedly tell his parents about his day at school over the phone or when he would answer a question the professor asked with a little nervous stutter afraid to get the answer the wrong. The anxious little flutter of his lips when he would tell you that you were beautiful before blushing even though you two had already been together for over a year. You missed the soft way he would whisper to you in bed every morning as he tenderly pet your head and kissed your face. 

Hell, you even missed the shouting matches during a fight when he would scream about something that hardly matters now before a few hours later sliding into your bedroom so you two could talk it out. 

Now neither of you said a word as you roamed the streets of the city looking for supplies and a safe place to stay. 

Ironically, last night you found a library to rest in and woke up early to read one of the books you found on a shelf nearby. It took you a moment to realize Eric was watching you and when you did you beamed his way as he quietly stretched and rubbed his eyes. 

Nodding his head your way towards the book in your hand, you flashed him the cover.

“Sign Language for Beginners.”

Your boyfriend smiled wide as he reached for the whiteboard beside him you two had been using to communicate. 

“What have you learned so far?”

As you slowly sign with your hands, he watches you carefully as you mouth along with the movements while spelling out your name. Without his palms touching, he claps seemingly impressed with your new skills. After grabbing your own whiteboard from your backpack, you scoot closer to him till your knees are touching as your cross your legs. 

“Want to see another thing I learned?”

When he nods, you take his hand in yours, maneuvering his fingers till they’re the way you want, and your eyes meet his as you silently mouth what it means. 

“I love you.”

A gentle smile paints his lips as his other palm cups your cheek and brings your mouth to his own. Matching your fingers to his, you press them together as he mouths his love for you in return.  

After eating and getting your things together, hand in hand you moved about the city. Pharmacies were something you insisted you two always go into because not only did it have medication you may need down the line but it had supplies like batteries, everyday essentials, and water. 

Eric most of the time just followed your lead but occasionally he would slip away when he found something he thought would make you smile. One day while exploring, he tapped your shoulder and bowed before handing you a rose that had you grinning. Another day, he found some of your favorite chocolates that you loved, immediately devouring it as he silently laughed at your eagerness. 

Normally when he detached from you, he didn’t go far but when you turned to leave the area he wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Your instinct was to shout his name but you couldn’t. Fear flooded your body as you panickily looked around for any sign of him and finding nothing. 

Your brain began to shut down as tears fell down your cheeks and you collapsed to your knees. Your chest was hyperventilating at the notion of being alone in this chaos…being alone in a world where Eric didn’t exist… 

As you heavily inhaled, a palm covered your mouth and you opened your wide eyes to meet your boyfriend’s equally terrified gaze.

You were so overjoyed to see him but your internal panic was still on overdrive. That’s one thing you and Eric had in common. You had PTSD from certain events in your life that only he knew about that left you debellated sometimes. Eric had massive anxiety that was exacerbated after he moved down here from London to attend law school. You both hated being alone and depended on each other at times when things got bad enough. 

Placing his finger over his mouth in a shushing motion, he carefully dug into his bag and pulled out a little prescription bottle, handing you a tiny pill and some water that you eagerly accepted. Miming with his hands, he signaled for you to slow your breathing and when you were finally calm enough to focus he hugged you tightly to his chest. 

#################

Even as you clung to his arm, he could tell you were still fuming. You two had learned a while ago that you could make noise under other sounds like rain and running water so unbeknownst to you, Eric took a detour to a building you two had been a couple of times on dates before the end of the world. 

Gently opening the door, he guided you in and as soon as you entered you heard the sound of water falling. Glancing around, you noticed he had taken you to a greenhouse as the strong smell of flowers hit your nose. 

After taking a quick look around, he brought you to the waterfall fountain that was in the middle of the room under a glass dome illuminating the sky above. His doe eyes followed you as you took a seat beside the falls and stared at the ripples that flowed. 

As he sat beside you, it took him a moment before he finally spoke. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”, he whispered. 

Your glassy eyes met his but instead of verbally replying, you hand loudly smacked his arm. You continued to hit his bicep as the tears fell and he allowed it knowing he fucked up. 

“We’re supposed to tell each other where we go!”, you murmur heatedly. “What was so important that you had to have it now and scare me half to death?”

Digging into his backpack, he produced a little blue box and opened it for you displaying a beautiful silver, diamond stud engagement ring that had your eye lids flutter at the sight. 

“Before all this bullshit, I had begun saving to buy you something like this… I should have started saving sooner.”, Eric shrugged as he shifted his gaze away from yours. “I don’t know why I even risked scarring you to get this. I don’t think there are any priests or anything. Plus, you deserve a white dress and—”

When he turned back to focus on you again he was met with your lips. 

“I love you, you idiot.”

He smiles wide as he pulls you into his embrace and kisses your forehead. 

***

A couple of hours later, Eric awoke to your hand gently jostling his arm. Prepared for the worst, his eyes anxiously glanced from left to right looking for the threat before landing on your beautiful face in front of him. 

Standing to your full height, you showed off the white sundress you found when you snuck to the clothing store beside the building you two were in. As you tilted your head at an angle, you gestured towards the veil that was held in place by a headband. Utilizing the water in the greenhouse, you had washed your face and put on some make up you found as well illuminating all your best features that he loved so much. 

Since you were a bit further away from the fountain than before, Eric lifted his whiteboard, scrolling across it before displaying a message. 

“You look gorgeous.”

Falling to your knees, you took the marker from his grasp and he waits as you write your reply. 

“Thank you. I got you something to.”

His chocolate eyes follow your finger as you point towards a suit on a chair nearby.

Excitedly, he jumps up and hastily begins removing his clothes making you silently laugh at his earnest energy. The outfit was a bit too big on him but you didn’t care. To you, he looked absolutely perfect.

Placing himself in front of you, his amused irises watch with anticipation as he waits for you to show him what you’re writing. 

“Family and friends, we are gathered here today to witness the union of Eric and Y/N…blah blah blah.”

The man’s smile widens as you smile back, erasing what you put and continuing your ceremony. 

“Eric, I have loved you since the moment I saw you shyly answer Professor Flick’s question in our ethics class. You were always a bit nervous but your heart was always so big. You were the sweetest person I had ever met. Even before the end of the world, I felt safe with you and I hope you know that your body and your heart are safe with me. I love you.”

As he read your vows, a tear left his eye before he leaned towards you to kiss your lips and take back his board. As he wrote, you imagined what it would have been like to have a real wedding. His parents would have wanted him to go back to Kent to have a massive sized ceremony there. Eric told you his parents always had high expectations especially coming out of “high society”. They would have invited a ton of people their son didn’t know and most likely not even consult with you about the arrangements and wedding itself. 

Your parents hadn’t been in your life in a long while and since then you always avoided thoughts like who would walk you down the aisle or who would you have in your family section. You didn’t have a lot of money nor come from any so you wouldn’t be able to have a big wedding or even a tiny wedding with friends especially not here in New York where everything cost a fortune. 

You imagined it would have most likely been a stressful situation for you both and you didn’t want that; not only for you but for the man you loved. It would be his day to and he deserved to look as happy as he did now as he turned the whiteboard to face you. 

“Y/N, I remember that day when you offered to study with me so I wouldn’t feel so nervous. I couldn’t understand why a beautiful woman like you was offering to help a dork like me. The first time I heard you laugh I knew I wanted to marry you. I miss the sound… but I love that you’re still here with me and marrying me. I promise I’ll ALWAYS keep you safe, baby. I love you to.”

Beaming up at him, you kiss his lips as his hand cups your face and his thumb wipes away the one tear that had escaped down your cheek.

After taking the board back, you hand him the blue box with the rings and hastily scroll on the board. 

“Do you Eric take Y/N as your wife to have and to hold for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, for better or worse, and other things I can’t remember, till death do us part?”

Tenderly smiling, he takes out the diamond ring and places it on your finger as he leans forward till his lips are right by the shell of your ear. 

“I do.”, he whispers so softly that a tingle runs through your body, biting your bottom lip as he kisses your cheek before playfully tugging the board from your grasp. 

Replacing the names, he flips it your way and you retrieve the gold wedding band and place it on his finger as you tilt up on your toes to reach his ear. 

“I do.”

You don’t bother taking the board back as he scribbles something quickly down, flashing it your way when he finishes. 

“By the power vested in me by the end of the world, I now pronounce us husband and wife and now I’m gonna kiss my bride.”

You stifle your giggles into his lips as they crash to your own and he lifts you off your feet into his strong arms. 

#####################

Eric continues to sneak love filled glances your way as you both share the cake you had found in a bakery within the building. Jerking your head his way, you nod, silently asking what’s running through his mind. 

Smiling, his pointer finger touches your chest followed by the rest of them swishing around his face, mouthing along as he signs. 

“You are beautiful.”

Quietly laughing, you find your whiteboard and scribble across it with your marker. 

“Have you been looking at my book?”

“Maybe.”, he writes back. 

After placing his fingers on his chin, he brings them down before gesturing at the area around you both.

“Thank you for this.”

The sound of thunder makes you both jump before silently exhaling as you lean your head on his shoulder and hug his arm that had promptly shot out to protect you. Images of dates to movie theaters where you would squeak and cling to him as something scary popped out on screen filled your mind. The warm fuzzy feeling it gave you when his palm would grip your thigh as if to say, “I got you.” Before his gorgeous eyes would glance down at you like they were now. 

Placing your palm over the back of his, you guided his fingertips along your thighs taking part of your dress up with it before disappearing under the fabric. Eric shifted his body closer to yours as his lips softly kissed your temple and trailed down to your cheek. Biting your lip, you stifled your moan as his fingers moved the cotton blocking your core to the side and effortlessly glided through your folds to slowly massage your clit.

It had been so long since you were able to be intimate with each other with the fear of death always looming in your minds but when heavy rain loudly tapped against the glass above you, your eyes rolled back as your mouths connected and all you could think about was the man you loved. 

Eric panted against your tongue as your palm rubbed against the growing bulge in his slacks and you groaned in response when in return two of his thick fingers slid into your heat. 

“Eric.”

“Fuck—I missed the way you moaned my name.”, he whispered as he thrust his digits into you at a steady pace, slowing only for a moment when you hastily unbutton his pants to pull out his cock. His big, lust filled eyes watch as you run your tongue along your hand and wrap it around him, mewling as you begin to stroke his length. “Feels so fucking good, baby. I h-hope this rain lasts because I don’t wa-want to hold back too much on our wedding night.”

A pant mixes in with your low laugh as he smiles against your lips at his comment. His kisses travel to your neck and your pussy tightens around his fingers as he pumps into you, tapping into that sweet spot inside you that only he has ever been able to reach. 

Thunder bangs above you both as your climax washes over you and you moan as your free hand grasps desperately at his button up shirt, trying to pull him as close to you as you can. 

“Fuck…please, Eric… I need you…”

Quickly moving away from you, he reaches for his suit jacket and places it behind you as you peel off your panties. With his hand on your lower back, he guides you on top of the fabric and after positioning his body on yours, you help push his pants further down till their resting just under his ass. 

As you craned your neck to watch between your bodies, his humid breath fanned your face as he gradually guided his cock into your entrance. 

“Oh my Gooooood, Y/N, baby.”

Eric’s head fell into the nook between your neck and shoulder as he did little thrusts to allow you both time to absorb the feeling of each other again as he stretched you open and your fingers threaded through his hair as your legs circled around his waist. 

Through the glass above you saw the lightening flash brightly almost blinding you as you began to count. 

“3, 2, 1.”

Eric stilled for a moment as he listened to you whisper before thunder shook the building surrounding you. His palm slid down your side to your hip, holding you as his maneuvered his waist till just his tip was inside you.

“3, 2, 1…”

As soon as the thunder clapped, his hips snapped into yours pushing his cock deep inside you causing a loud moan to leave your lips matching the sound of the rumbles in the sky. You both worked in tandem as you watched the lightening and counted as he waited for the thunder so you could scream as loud as you needed to. 

Even he knew though that storms wouldn’t last forever and he desperately wanted to hear you come undone. Pushing up onto his forearms, he pounded into you as his eyes remained locked with yours.

He didn’t need to say anything…. You knew what he wanted without saying a word. 

After nodding your head, his forehead leans against your sweaty one and you cling to his shoulders as you wait, fending off your orgasm as best you can until you finally see the flash of light. Eric takes note of it as well as it reflects off the floor around you but he waits for your count.

“E-Eric…3…2-2…1.”

The thunder crashes so loud it was as if mother nature was on your side as you scream his name again and the coil snaps as you cum. A loud grunt mixes with your shout of pleasure before Eric pulls his cock out of your quivering cunt and strokes his hand quickly along his shaft, milking his release as it lands on your thigh. 

Grabbing the napkins from the bag nearby, he cleans you both and collapses at your side. Rolling to face him, your husband reaches over to move your hair behind your ear. 

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, are you?”, you whisper back.

“Yeah.”, he murmurs as he listens to the rain begin to lighten outside. Extending his arm for you to use as a pillow, you smile as you move closer to him and his utilizes his other arm to rest his on your side. “I love you, Y/N.”

It was so low he didn’t think you heard him but when your own palm landed on his lower back and your nose grazed his, he melted into you when he heard your equally quiet, “I love you to, Eric.”

[sunsburns]

I have a question, do you write angsty endings, and if so would you write one for Eric? (Preferably if reader died and he had to live on)

a world alone violence; death; panic attacks i have such a great treat for you! it is kinda short because my quiet place era was short-lived but i hope you enjoy!

There was something haunting about the way the wind blew, tossing dust around and dragging dead leaves across the pavement. The sound echoed eerily with the breeze, only to vanish into the oppressive silence.

Eric stood there, frozen, as if time itself had halted. His breath caught in his chest, and he wondered if he had lost his hearing. His body shuddered, a rattling tremor that ran from his shoulders down his spine.

You were just there. Right there in front of him.

He could still see the teary glimmer in your eyes as you hid behind the shelf of the abandoned pharmacy. The scream was trapped in your throat the moment the wind slammed the door shut, shattering the already cracked windows. The monsters came quickly, their steps an ominous cadence as if they'd been lying in wait for this very moment.

Panic surged as you both scrambled to find each other, the urgency palpable. Eric's heart pounded in his ears, but he tried to ignore his loud footsteps as he rushed to your side. Then, one of the creatures crashed in, and you both froze, mere feet apart.

Eric's knees shook, barely supporting his weight. You reached out, trying to calm him, but your gesture did little to soothe his terror when he saw the looming shadow behind you. You didn’t see it, or maybe you did.

Maybe you knew. You probably knew. You didn't want him to see you scared.

Did you?

His lips quivered, his breath stuck in his chest. He struggled to breathe, to warn you, but you looked at him with a calmness that broke his heart, waving your hands to remind him to breathe.

You took a step closer to Eric. He took a step back.

Did you think he was abandoning you?

You took another step, and he retreated further, the monster's presence growing ever more menacing behind you.

Eric choked on a sob, panic rising as you held a finger to your lips, urging him to be silent. But then the monster growled, almost drooling over you, and Eric's gasp escaped, loud and anguished.

The creature lunged.

It grabbed you instead of him.

Your scream cut through the silence, and then you were gone.

The wind shifted, moving the broken glass on the ground, and Eric stifled his sobs with a fist to his mouth. He stood there, paralyzed, staring at the place where he last saw you, the horror of your absence settling in like a crushing weight.

[kingsteve-more-like-dadsteve]

Yall already knew I was gonna say this but Im watching A Quiet Place: Day One with Joseph Quinn. Obviously yall know I love him, but also you’re telling me to see him as he is but also AS A MAN WHO ISNT AFRAID TO CRY AND BE SCARED?!

The Subway scene bro? Mans having a panic attack? Hey that’s my babygirl

Hey, I need to be put down. I need to hug and kiss this man while he cries about being scared to die

[mmunson86]

Y’all screaming with out the S and a capital C! This was too goooooood😩💗

•Sounds of Satisfaction•

Eric (AQPDO) x Fem! Reader

Warnings: mentions of the end of the world. Smut, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering, light oral (f receiving)

I know it just came out. I know it’s new. But damnit…I needed smut with this watery eyed man let me tell you-

Authors Warnings: this was not proof read

Word Count: 1.7k

Eric’s body ached terribly. The impact from the water, swimming one handed. Running on empty for days as he carefully curled up with Frodo. Legs shaking and mouth flapping like a fish out of water, trying to form any thought as he sleepily looked around.

They’d been adrift for about six hours now, on open water and swaying with the waves. His empty stomach queasy from poorly digested stale pizza, bourbon, and fear. Looking around quietly before Frodo wriggled from his arms. Running off as Eric followed. Clamoring desperately as he weaved through bunches of people. “Excuse…excuse me…clear the way. My uh…my cat!” He squealed. Making his way through to a sight strangely comforting.

There you were, eating from your rucksack and carefully feeding Frodo pieces of beef jerky as his paws held your fingers expectantly. Eric blushing in shame as he walked over.

“I’m terribly sorry for his…behavior. He’s very curious, a risk taker.” He laughed nervously as you hummed softly in understanding. Pressing a cheese cracker to your tongue as you looked him over. “You’re from England…” you murmured as he nervously nodded. Sitting beside you and grunting as a massive bag of trail mix hit him in the chest. Gratefully opening and picking through it.

“I just got back from um…my trip across Europe. A study abroad program…didn’t expect this…” you murmured. “I was in my cab…and my parents were waiting for me…and then what looked like stars fell from the sky…then uh,” you mimicked the sound of an explosion while bubbling out your hands. “Parents gone, my little apartment in tatters and my life in shambles…” you murmured as he pursed his lips. Eyes filled with pity as he carefully placed a hand on your knee.

The two of you got to talking. Sharing names and experiences, Eric giving you the cashews from the trail mix as he frowned to himself. Carefully leaning his sleepy head on your shoulder as he hummed in thought.

“Where do you think we’re going?…” he whispered as you rubbed his scalp lightly. “Probably some sort of island or compound…somewhere safe.” You mumbled as you carefully stood. Eric’s big, wet brown eyes boring into you as you gestured for him to follow you as you entered the bottom of the ferry. Finding a storage closet as he eagerly trailed behind with Frodo in step. Watching as you piled up blankets and softer clothes from your bag into a pallet to sleep on.

“Is this um…where you’ll be sleeping?” He asked nervously as you hummed. “Yes. Yes it is…? Why…?” You murmured as he frowned to himself.

“Can…can I lie with you…?” Eric was clingy, terribly so. Thousands of miles from home. Nobody to stick by. He needed someone to keep him grounded in some way. His eyes watching you as you pushed air through your pursed lips.

“Yes but you have to take off the slacks and shoes. I don’t…I don’t think I can fathom sleeping next to someone dressed like a lawyer.” You muttered as he smiled wide. Removing his tie and kicking off his sneakers. Wriggling off his terribly stained slacks as you sighed.

Stripping of your layers, you stood in your thin tank top and your leggings. His face pink in flustered confusion as he shivered. “I um…I can see your…your um…” he gestured to your chest as you looked down.

“My…my what? Oh my nipples. I am a woman and it is cold Eric.” You insisted as he frowned. “You’re acting like you’ve never seen a naked woman before~” you teased as he looked away. “I’ve seen magazines, and pornos! I’m not…im not completely unaware.” He insisted to himself.

He hadn’t…seen a naked woman before, or even like…a barely clothed one in real life it seemed. Pursing your lips as you sighed. “I’ll gladly put on a sweater if it’s bothering…you…” your eyes travelled downward to a very nervous, very stressed, and very hard Eric as he bit his lip harshly.

“Eric…you’re telling me you nearly died a virgin?” You whispered as he whimpered in embarrassment. “I hadn’t had time, to do things like that? For fear of like…losing my way. I came here for one reason. Law school.” He insisted. Picking at his fingers anxiously as you gently took his hands and pulled them apart.

“Well…we’re relatively safe now…and you’re not terrible looking~” you teased him lightly as he scoffed in gentle frustration. “Would you like…for me to be your first time?” You murmured softly as he bit his lip. Thinking about it as he nodded slowly. You were the only person he knew in America with the current situation. Plus you were pretty. With full lips and big batting lashes and a dusting of pink on your cheeks from the cold and-…his thoughts kept spinning in his head as he whined. He felt perverted, to acknowledge how he’d been thinking of you.

“Yes please…” he murmured as he let you lead him to sit on the soft pallet you’d made. His eyes watching you tentatively as you carefully took his hands and placed them on your hips. “You can touch me Eric…just be gentle…can’t be too loud…it’s the end of the world after all,” you teased as he carefully nodded in agreement.

“Can we um…can we have you lying down…and me on top? If that’s okay?” He whispered. Thumbs rubbing idle circles on your hips as he waited for your approval.

“Yes we can do it in missionary…and thank you for asking it’s very sweet,” you assured as you slowly lied down. Eric following as he straddled your lap and tenderly moved up to cup your face. “May I kiss you…?” He whispered as you laughed lightly. Pulling him down to kiss you.

It was clumsy and messy, his body relaxing against you as he held your face between his clammy palms. Tongue swiping across your bottom lip as you allowed him in. His whimpers desperate as he rutted against your thigh. He was *big*.

He whimpered in need as his kisses trailed along your jaw, down your throat. Slowly working up your tank top as he audibly whined at the sight of your breasts. Nipples pebbling from the cold as he continued to kiss down your collarbone. Warm hands slowly working up your sides as he shuddered.

“You’re really fit, you know?” He whispered. Left hand lightly taking hold of one of your pert breasts. Gently kneading it between his wanton fingers and panting lightly to himself. His mouth wandering lower till it lightly nipped the soft skin of your chest. His knee slotted between your plush thighs. Hands slowly working their way down as you sucked air between your teeth. His mouth needy as he left hickeys across your full chest.

“I um…im going to try something…” he whispered nervously as he carefully backed up. Pressing his nose against your soft stomach as he clumsily took the elastic of your underwear between his teeth. Pulling it down with a bit of a struggle. Getting them off as his eyes widened.

“Wow…um…you’re…you’re beautiful…” he complimented as he lifted your left leg just a bit. Pressing warm and wet kisses along your inner thigh before ending at your clit. Placing a firm and warm peck as his fingers delicately traced your lips.

“Thank you…Eric-“ you’d been holding your breath. His passionate and gentle ministrations were addictive as you watched his face dip between your legs. Moaning lightly as his fingers pressed into you. Looking up at your face to make sure he hadn’t hurt you.

His fingers were thick, and careful. Lightly pumping and curling as he fingered you. Not wanting to cause any harm as he bit his lip gently. Drawing a moan from you as he covered your mouth. “Mmmm…shhh~, we don’t want to get caught.” He insisted lightly as he gently rubbed your clit with his thumb.

His motions were calculated, eyes never leaving your face to make sure you were okay. The soft and wet sounds of your cunt the only real noise besides your muffled breathing. His big brown eyes blown up in need as he whimpered loudly.

“When we get…wherever we’re meant to be, you’ll stay with me…” he was asking, though it came out as more of a gentle demand as he wriggled his fingers a bit deeper. Starting to increase the speed of his motions as you gripped the fabric beneath you.

“Fuck-“ it barely came past his mouth as he shuddered aggressively. “I need you…” he retracted his fingers. Your body clenching around nothing as he worked himself out of his boxers.

He was thick, a nice vein along the underside of his shaft as he pumped himself with his soaked hand. Watching you desperately as he pushed between your thighs and eased himself into you.

His grip on your mouth tightened as your lashes fluttered and back arched. Groaning softly to himself as he eased each inch till he’d fully hilted himself inside you. Twitching lightly. He’d cum soon. Inexperienced and desperate.

He slowly rolled his hips. A testing motion to see if it felt as good for you as it did him. Tears pricking your eyes from overstimulated need. His lips lightly kissing them away as he began to thrust.

“So good for me…so pretty…” he whined lightly as he held you close. His thrusts short and deep as he rocked into you. The space a bit cramped as he hissed through his teeth. “Oh your cunt was made for me…” he murmured as he rocked his weight to make sure he could get as much friction as possible. “Such a pretty girl…” he crooned as he held your gaze.

His breathy moans came from between his plush lips. Nervous and needy as he grit his teeth lightly. Legs trembling as he panted loudly to himself. “So fucking good…” his words were simply repeating. Brain fried from lust and exhaustion.

“Fuck fuck fuck-“ his hips stuttered as he pressed himself deep into you. Letting himself cum as you moaned into his hand. Holding his wrist as he slowly lied on top of you. Exhausted pants leaving you both as his hand slipped from your mouth.

“Thank you…” he whispered, eyes closing. Finally able to rest.

[corroded-hellfire]

Summary: You help Eric through an anxiety attack

Note: Obsessed with Eric and I need to protect him from the world, please and thank you. Also, Frodo divider created by me 😊

Warnings: anxiety, panic

Words: 1.5k

The carved out hull of the decimated subway car offers little in the way of protection, but with the power out it seems likely not to cause any unwarranted noise. 

Eric ushers you in before himself, the light from the fluorescents of the station giving the two of you just enough to see by. The seats and bent handrails cast gruesome shadows across the small space, and you decide to take advantage of one particularly large pocket of darkness in the corner. 

Your back presses up against the cool metal, dented from God only knows what. Slowly, you slide down to the floor and Eric lowers himself down beside you. Both of you are caked with dirt and there’s blood smeared against one leg of your jeans. Luckily, it doesn’t seem to belong to either one of you. 

A steady stream of water is somewhere near, the comforting sound letting you breathe just a little easier. Eric must feel the same because he dares to lean in towards you and speak softly.

“Are you okay?”

Never did that seem more complex of a question. You’re not okay in the grand scheme of things, but you’re currently still alive and, for the most part, unharmed. 

“I think so,” you whisper in reply. “Are you?”

Eric nods, rubbing his hands up and down his shins, the worn brown material wearing even thinner in a few spots now. 

The two of you were fortunate to run into one another in an alleyway between two buildings—the only stroke of luck either of you have had lately. A natural ease quickly proved that you worked well together and seeing as neither of you wanted to be alone, the choice was obvious. 

Even though it’s only been roughly twenty-four hours since you’ve met, with all you’ve been through in that time, it feels as if you’ve known Eric for ages. There was no denying how cute he was either, but your brain barely had time for fleeting thoughts like that when your focus is on staying alive. 

“How’s your hand?” Eric asks.

You look at the offending appendage, purple from bruising, slightly swollen, and throbbing. Though, it’s slightly better since you’d found that bodega and swiped all the Tylenol and ibuprofen they had. 

During the initial chaos of the invasion—is that what to call it? —your back was up against the brick wall of an apartment building and a man was sent hurtling in the air towards you. Your hand had the misfortune to get crushed between the high velocity man and the brick wall. Ever since you’ve met Eric, he’s been helping you wrap your hand and always checking in on it. 

“It’s sore,” you admit. 

“Let me see?” Eric extends his hand.

Taking a deep breath, you place your injured hand in his. 

Warm, calloused fingers undo the binding currently covering the wound and toss them to the subway floor. It feels nice to let your hand breathe a bit, get some air. With just a featherlight touch, Eric traces his index finger around the mottled skin. The delicate touch sends goosebumps up your arm. If he notices them, he doesn’t say. 

A sense of disappointment fills your gut when he releases your hand to get fresh bandages. You chew on your chapped bottom lip as you watch Eric rummage through the Phantom of the Opera tote bag you’d snagged from one of those tourist gift shops. 

He sprays a bit of disinfectant spray on your hand, the mist feeling doubly cold after having the warmth of his large hand enveloping yours. Next comes a fresh bandage. Eric always applies them so carefully, making sure it’s not too tight but gives your hand some support. You watch him as he works, your eyes taking in the small details of his face while he’s busy focusing on something else.

His dark eyelashes are so long that they kiss his cheeks with every blink. The curls on the top of his head are messy from everything they’ve been through, but it’s unkempt in a charming way. It amazes you how dry his lips are from dehydration, yet they still look so pink and inviting. 

Eric secures the bandage on your hand, and you momentarily move on to admiring the color and depth of his eyes when you realize he’s finished and no longer distracted. 

Heat comes to your face, so you lift your injury up to inspect it, hoping to give you a minute to cool down. 

“Thank you,” you whisper when you lay your hand back down in your lap. 

“Of course.”

The good thing about needing to keep quiet during all of this is that none of the silences could be interpreted as awkward. It’s just self-preservation. 

It goes on that way for about ten minutes before you feel your head get heavy and decide to lean it against Eric’s shoulder. It’s not long before he gently rests his head on top of yours. Despite the circumstances around you, a small smile grows on your lips.

But your peace doesn’t last long. A groaning of metal and the now too-familiar skittering of legs or pincers or whatever they’re called. 

By the sound of it, you guess that the creature is coming from your left, somewhere down the subway track. But there’s no reason for it to know you’re here. As long as you can remain quiet, the monster should just pass you by without trouble. 

A hitch in breath from beside you grabs your attention though. Your head jerks in the direction of Eric to find his breathing speed up and his eyes widen in that recognizable panic. 

Pressing one hand to his shoulder, you get his attention and his head whips to face you. With your other, injured hand, you hold up a finger to your mouth for him to stay quiet.

Eric nods but the rate of his breathing only increases. You shake your head and lean in towards him. 

“Breathe.” The words could barely be considered a full whisper. 

You’ve helped him through these anxiety attacks a few times now so you try to tell yourself you can do it again. You can’t blame the poor guy for being so scared, either. 

The clicking of the approaching monster comes closer then stops. It feels as if time pauses while you wait to see what will happen now. 

Smashing the play button, the creature falls from where it must have been crawling on the ceiling, to land on the subway platform.

Eric jumps and you see his teeth clench together as he tries to keep the panic at bay. 

Step by crunching step, the being stalks closer to your subway car. Even though it can’t see you, instinct tells you to get further out of sight.

As silently as possible, you scoot over so there’s enough room for you to lay flat on the floor of the car. Eric glances down at you and you motion for him to do the same. He gives you a quick nod and with shaking hands, moves to lay down next to you.

Within the cramped space it’s hard for two adults to lay flat, side by side, so Eric ends up on his side, facing you. If you turned your head to look at him, your noses would brush. 

One long black limb stretches out from the creature and crushes a piece of metal right outside your car—probably the remains of an adjoining car. 

Eric’s anxiety spikes again and before you can think about it, you wrap your arm around his shoulders and bring his body down on top of yours. 

It’s not the most comfortable angle for either of you, almost awkward. But Eric wastes no time grabbing onto your waist, his head falling to the juncture between your neck and shoulder. 

Consciously, you slow your breathing down in hopes that Eric’s will follow your lead. 

Another crunch of metal rents the air and you both jump, clinging tighter to one another. Eric’s grip on your body changed positions slightly, and now his head is resting right over your heart. 

You glance down and watch as Eric visibly calms. He takes a few deep breaths and lets his eyes slip closed as he lays against you. 

It takes you a few moments to realize what caused the change. Eric’s head is on its side, his right ear directly over your heart. He’s listening to your heartbeat. And it’s calming him. The thought alone makes your heart rate speed up. 

Slowly, you reach up and gently rest your hand in his hair. He tilts his chin up so he can see your face and you give him a small smile. The one he gives you in return brings forward the confidence to begin running your fingers through Eric’s soft curls. 

The two of you stay that way, listening as the creature moves farther and farther away, until you can’t hear it at all anymore.

But even then, after the immediate threat is gone and everything seems peaceful and calm around you, you both still stay that way. His hands holding onto your body, his head over your heart, and you carding your fingers through his curls. 

Maybe this subway car is a better place to be than you originally thought. 

[eddiesxangel]

Be Quiet Darling | Eric x Reader

Cw: aqpdo, porn with an end of the world plot. Oral (m receiving), p in v, use of breeding, no use of pronouns for reader but reader has breasts and a vagina.

Wc: 2k

The city loomed in darkness; its once vibrant streets were now shrouded in an oppressive shade of gray. Following the invasion of New York City, layers of ash and soot blanketed every surface. Despite the efforts of millions to escape, a few thousand souls remained trapped within its confines.

You were among the few thousand who were not so lucky to be stranded in the city, hiding underground in the basements and parking garages.

The bunker was the only place you could call home. It was a sealed-off parking garage located on the lower levels of a towering skyscraper. Months had passed since you had seen the light of day, and the absence of natural light had become the new normal. Quietness enveloped the bunker, and you longed for the sounds of the outside world. Anything but the rumbles of the military battling those creatures. Those aliens who had ultrasonic hearing could still hear you even though you were deep in the ground.

Even if you couldn't speak, you bonded with the people around you, mainly the law student you met named Eric. He had made an impression on you. An ever-growing crush was forming, and you didn’t know how to deal with it. The world was ending, but Eric was in your mind twenty-four-seven. You wanted to be near him; you longed to hear his voice; you wanted him to hold you and tell you everything would work out, that you’d escape this place and live happily ever after with the white picket fence.

Only in your fantasy would that happen, but it was nice to hold onto that dream as you learned the military was on its way to the last remaining survivors. They radioed the bunker to say it wouldn’t be easy, and you may die as the death angels were waiting and hunting still. There were thousands of them in New York State; even up north near the Canadian border was invaded.

The plan was to move everyone at dawn; it was going smoothly, and you and Eric stuck together throughout the march. Holding hands as you silently made your way through the rubbled streets that once held so much life, then the worst happened. Someone sneezed, and they were on you in an instant. Eric pulled you, and you ran with him. Neither of you knew where you were going; the subway was your best bet. You found a staircase that wasn’t barricaded and stumbled your way down as quietly as possible.

It must have been hours. You and Eric were hiding in an isle of an abandoned shop, munching on a bag of cookies that hadn’t been broken. Half an hour ago, you heard the sirens warning you to stay put. It sounded awful in the streets above. The sounds of guns and bombs, the shrieks of the creatures, echoed through the underground tunnels.

You mouthed, “I’m scared,” tears breaching your lash lines.

Eric nods, and you can see his eyes are wet before he reaches over and cups your head into the crook of his neck. You both silently cry before you lift your head and do the unthinkable at a time like this. You kiss him.

Surprisingly, Eric kisses you back, but you’ll take anything from him that he will give.

The moment your lips touched, you felt his weight sink into you, like he wanted this just as badly as you did. You desperately wanted Eric to hold you, tell you everything would be okay, and protect you from the abovementioned monsters.

Your hands found his waistband and tugged on the belt loops to pull you in closer. You knew it would be so stupid to do anything else; you could die in an instant, but your primal need to procreate and survive was taking over.

His hands grabbed your waist as he pulled you closer to him as well, so close you could feel how hard his cock had gotten. You both have wanted this for so long, but you dare not utter a sound as the passion grew stronger.

Your hands bravely went lower, and Eric pulled away, looking at you with those eyes that make your heart race. He bobbed slowly to confirm this was okay, and you slowly pulled the zip to make as little noise as possible.

Eric’s chest fell up and down with each breath of anticipation as he watched you so close to where he wanted you to touch him the most. Through all of this madness, he had fallen deep and had for you and yearned for your affection. All he wanted was to hold you, for you to tell him that it would be okay, that you both would survive this and live happily ever after.

You fold down his dress pants and hold back a giggle when you see his cowboy boxers. He rolls his eyes in embarrassment; of course, these were the only other pair of underwear he could find this morning. However, that didn’t deter you from kissing him deeply. You kissed him passionately, letting your tongue slip past his plush pink lips as your hand ran the outline of his cock through his corny boxers. His endearing ways made you want him much more now that you’re alone, hiding from what was above.

Eric wanted to let out a moan so badly when your fingertip grazed the head of his cock through the thin cotton. He was already leaking so much precum there was a little wet patch that had formed. You circled it with your thumb before you slipped your hand under the waistband and pulled it out.

The lighting in the small store was dim, but your eyes had adjusted so you could see what you were working with. You smiled to yourself as you observed the thick shaft in your hands. Your pussy clenched around nothing as visions of him stretching you out flooded your thoughts.

“So big,” you mouthed, and Eric bashfully looked down, shaking his head. You hooked your index finger under his chin for him to look at you again, and you nodded yes while biting your lip.

You don’t break eye contact as you sink down to take him in your mouth.

The moment your hot, wet tongue touches his head with a kitten lick, he has his fist in his mouth to stifle the noise he was about to make. You would have begged him to hear those moans in any other situation, but you’ll now yearn in silence.

You want to praise him, tell him how good he was for being so quiet, and tell him how strong and handsome he is.

Eric ran his hand over the top of your head, gripping your hair l, surprising you a little. Your soft sweet teddy bear of a man taking a little bit of charge on how you sucked his cock was so hot. He only puts a little pressure on your head to take him further and releases the tension when you take him the furthest you can. The velvety walls of his shaft guided against your tongue so smoothly that you loved feeling him in your mouth. You couldn’t wait for him to split open your pussy.

A small gasp escaped his throat that sounded like a “fuck,” but you stopped and froze in place to make sure that nothing heard it.

You looked at him through your lashes, and he mouthed a “sorry.”

You pulled up off him, and he thought he had ruined it, thought you no bother trusted him to continue, but when he saw you were unbuttoning your jeans and lifting up your top, he relaxed his tense shoulders.

“Please,” you mouthed, as sores your legs wide for him to come between. You wanted to feel him inside of you, and you didn’t know how much longer you had.

Eric nodded his head percussively as he crawled towards you, and you lay down, resting your head on an unopened cardboard box.

You hold in a moan as Eric kisses your exposed body. He started at your lips and worked his way down your neck, to your shoulders, to your breasts, staying as he paid close attention to each nipple. He looked up at you with those big brown eyes as he sucked and flicked your sensitive buds. Your pussy grew wetter by the seconds as he kissed your tummy and stopped right above the tufts of hair that led to your needy pussy. You wanted nothing more than to have him go down on you, but your need to be filled was stronger.

You shake your head before he can move an inch closer, and he looks at you in confusion. Eric knows he gives amazing head. He wants to feel you cuming on his tongue for him, to taste him, but when he sees your plead for him to fuck you, he can’t say no.

You watch as Eric nods and aligns his cock yo to your entrance. You watch his face as he slowly sinks into you, your pussy aiming him in so tight that he lets his mouth fall open but doesn’t dare let out a sound as you kiss him. With an elbow propped up beside your head, he takes your face in the other as he ungulates his hips to thirst up into you with such precision.

The way he slowly rolled his hips so that he couldn’t make a sound made you want to cry out. It felt so good. You haven’t felt good in weeks. You slowly leaked a few tears as it was all so much to handle. You break as you hold back a sniffle, and Eric kisses your tears away; he coos you silently, whispering so lowly that he’s got you, that you’re doing so well for him, how you’re taking his cock so good.

You wanted to beg him to fill you with his cum, that you’ll be so good for him, that you love him, that he’s all you have left in this world. You want to be his so severely that it hurts. Even now, as his hips roll into yours, as his cock is hitting that spot deep up inside you, you want to scream that you want him to mark you, claim you, breed you.

But you can’t. All you can do is kiss him and pull him in closer; your feet wrap around him, making his thrusts sharper as your pussy clamps down on his thick hard cock that is making you see stars.

Your wet pussy threatens to echo throughout the tunnels of the subway, but Eric slows down and reaches down between you to circle your clit. You let in a sharp breath as he massages your swollen bud. You’re so close you can feel it. You stare at him, not daring to look away to break you into reality.

Right now, it was you and him. Nothing else mattered. You both needed this to feel something other than fright and loneliness.

As you unfold for him, you and Eric stare into one another’s eyes. A silent scream of pleasure doesn’t dare leave your throat, but you let your jaw fall open and arch up into your orgasm. Eric wants to tell you so badly that you did so good for him that your pussy feels so delicious as you cum on his cock. The way you clamp down on him has his head spinning as well, your hot spend coating his cock, making your wet walls all that much warmer, tighter and wetter for him. He can’t help but release himself deep inside of you.

With heavy breath, you both lay there in silence, unable to say anything, but you both know that it was good, great, fantastic sex. Eric kisses you again for confirmation, and you gladly roll your hips into his softening cock before he pulls out.

What could be between the two of you with words could be amazing, but for now, this is what you have to survive.

[psychotic-nonsense]

"I'm sorry."

It's the first thing Steve says after everything.

After getting Vecna Cursed. After nearly dying. After a hallucination of Eddie saved him. After running through a looped forest. After finding sanctuary in Steve's memory of that Starcourt bathroom. After Eddie reveals himself as Eddie.

It's the only thing he can think of. It's not big enough to fit everything, but it's the only thing that fits in his mouth.

"Don't be."

Maybe that's the only thing Eddie can think of too. The only thing Eddie can bear to say.

Because don't be can't stop Steve's eyes from watering when he sees the vest in his closet. Don't be can't stop Steve's feet from dragging him to the cemetery every evening to clean Eddie's graffiti-covered tombstone. Don't be can't stop Steve from sitting beside Wayne and listening to him talk about the Eddie he remembers. Don't be can't stop Eddie's body from showing up in Steve's dreams, nor Eddie's corpse from his nightmares. Don't be couldn't keep the pain away enough, didn't stop Vecna from latching onto it while Steve was walking alone in the woods.

Don't be isn't enough for what Steve wants to hear. But even stuck here waiting, hoping, for someone to get Steve out, there just isn't enough time.

"I miss you."

"...Why?"

Eddie says it back so quickly, so quietly, like it's just unfathomable to him. Maybe it is, considering their last memories. But their eyes meet and he looks just as sad, just as longing, as Steve.

"You were my friend."

Steve can't help but say it like that. Like they were friends for years instead of days. Like Eddie was that important to him in their final moments. Like his heart really aches for Eddie every second of the apocalypse.

Can't help but say it like he means it.

"I wish we could've had more time..."

Steve's voice cracks a little there as he turns away, hiding. It's all he wants. It's all Vecna used to entice him with. It's all that's keeping him going, to finally fulfill the last request Eddie made. It's all he has left to feel close to Eddie.

The Eddie that's sitting right next to him, silent, his sight weighing on Steve's skin. Conscious and aware and the real Eddie. Trapped in Vecna's head as a backup power source, yet who still risked everything to come save Steve. Who Steve will never see again because killing Vecna means killing Eddie for good, and his heart doesn't want it, is begging for another solution...

But for once, his broken head overpowers his shattered heart.

"Maybe we did."

Eddie takes Steve's hand. Meets Steve's surprised look with his own small smile of hope. They're both suddenly tearing up, eyes glistening with life in this gray stall.

"Maybe in another world, we got a second first chance. A first second chance. Maybe even a third, or fourth. Maybe in a different life, we had everything we wanted. Because you, Steve Harrington, are too good for me to be doomed to meet just once."

And for a moment, Steve sees it. Feels it. Versions of them connected through the universe.

Little kids playing in the lake. One with bruised skin and shaved hair, loud but unfathomably lonely. One with a bruised heart and soft eyes, timid but stubbornly hopeful.

A rockstar with glittering chains, center stage in the spotlight. A set of eyes in the crowd or behind the curtain, watching only him.

A werewolf and a vampire, two cryptids of horror, meeting in the dead of a full moon night to feel safe with the only other one who understands.

A future where they won, where the only death was the one that mattered. A process of healing and learning, coming home to a family every single day.

A world without pain, without their hell, where two high schoolers found freedom from their shackles and company in each other. Hiding away together in the dark corners of the town.

Steve even sees other versions of them. Versions that he knows were originally never supposed to meet, yet forces so much greater than them pulled them together.

A metalhead drug dealer, constantly getting into trouble with one nail-bat-weilding cop.

A criminal's fugitive nature leading him to a rugged trailer park, and the dangerous owner within one such home.

An eccentric king in an old coliseum, always choosing one particular warrior as his champion.

A young programmer being pulled away from his work by sobs above his apartment, running upstairs to check on the law student that recently moved in.

Two actors, finding an easy friendship in the months of filming one season of a show that would change their lives.

In that moment, Steve's overwhelmed by the closeness he suddenly feels with the soul beside him. Falling into tears, he pulls Eddie into a tight hug, holding him so so close to convey everything he can't say. Feeling Eddie hold him back, hearing everything Eddie can't say in return.

Familiar music comes on outside the stall. Robin's voice calls out to him, telling him to come home.

And when he does leave, Steve hopes that someone out there will understand that he never can. Because here in Eddie's arms is the only place that will ever truly feel like home.

"Thank you... for everything, Eddie."

Thank you, Steve. For everything and more..."

--------------------

- List of AUs, in order, after, "Versions of them connected through the universe": Childhood Friends / Rockstar!Eddie / Werewolf!Steve & Vampire!Eddie / Eddie Survives / No Upside Down & High School

- List of Multiverse Steddie AUs, in order, after, "...yet forces so much greater than them pulled them together": Eddie x Gator / Baron x Michael / Geta x Sean / Keys x Eric / Quinn and Keery

[sscream4me]

Silence in the rain

› 𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗰 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

› 𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 : Trying to flee after the rush of people, you run into a boy who doesn't seem to want to stop following you after helping him.

› 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲 : I watched this movie yesterday and as a fan of Joseph Quinn, I simply fell in love with Eric, I need more of him. + English is not my first language, sorry if there are any mistakes 😿

› 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀 : 2.7k

The large and loud raindrops fell with no intention of stopping. Minutes earlier, the helicopters had asked us to move to the water's edge, supposedly to be rescued, but it seemed everything went wrong. The creatures emerged from their hiding places and attacked us. The brief moment of calm vanished in less than five seconds. People were screaming and running in all directions. To be honest, I doubted we would get out of here.

I hid under a car, waiting for whoever was still around to leave. Carefully, I started to emerge from my hiding place, praying that I wouldn't make any loud noises and attract those things again.

As soon as I came out, I couldn't help but look at the sky. It had been a long time since I had felt the rain, and despite the circumstances, I still loved it. I decided to walk toward a sheltered place, taking slow and cautious steps while hugging myself. I looked around; not a single human was nearby, only destruction—or so I thought until I saw a white cat with small black spots in front of me. It looked so unreal that I didn't know if I was hallucinating or not, so with some fear, I abandoned my plan to find shelter and approached the cute kitten.

The rain seemed to intensify more and more. I could hear a couple of thunderclaps in the distance, but I still didn't stop following the kitten, which had stayed still in what appeared to be a flooded subway entrance. The little cat turned to look at me, appearing so calm with its big, bright eyes. It then turned back to the water and bent down to drink. I took this opportunity to sit beside it, simply admiring it.

Everything was peaceful—just the kitten and me—until something emerged from the water, startling us. I jumped back, not caring much about the bump I would get, and quickly covered my mouth with my hands to stifle a possible scream. My heart was racing at an impressive speed. I didn't even want to breathe, thinking it might be one of those creatures. But all the fear vanished when I heard what sounded like heavy breathing. Slowly, I removed my hands from my mouth and approached the bars, looking down at the flooded stairs and seeing a boy.

He looked somewhat scared. I couldn't imagine how long he had been underwater. The boy looked at me, tilting his head slightly as if examining me. I frowned, and shortly after, he turned to look at the cat. The little feline was beside me, so he looked at both of us before emerging from the water.

I moved from my spot to help him, extending my hand, hoping he would take it. Though he hesitated at first, he eventually took my hand and accepted my help. Once he was out, I looked around, searching for the cat, but it seemed to have gone. However, I quickly spotted it again; it had moved three or four spots ahead, seemingly heading to an alley.

I dusted off my clothes a bit and started following the cat, but I could hear a pair of "stealthy" footsteps behind me. I knew it was him, so taking advantage of a small café's awning, I stopped and turned around, frowning at him. "Go away," I said in a low voice, to which he just shook his head.

"Why are you following me?" The boy still didn't answer, so with the little patience I had, I moved a bit closer and spoke again, this time a bit louder, "What's your name?" This time, it took him a bit longer to even make a gesture. I waited a bit before he finally spoke in almost the same tone as me, "Eric, my name is Eric."

[sunsburns]

i’m gonna need those joseph quinn fans to slide up in my inbox and request something for eric right about now