#minor spoilers under the cut
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There’s a high chance you’ve answered this before because it feels like an obvious question but if you have I couldn’t find it
When the next generation of Pokemon comes around, do you plan to post them as front facing Pokemon too?
surprisingly, i don't think i've answered this question yet! but yes, anytime a new pokémon drops, it'll be interspersed with whatever new gimmick the blog is doing at the time. front-facing pokémon are always the priority! i'll probably have to put this up in the FAQ when i finally make one of those
that's one way to interpret it. i'd probably end up having to make a poll on What That Means if it won (though it doesn't look like it will)
true! now, some nose ratings:
phew! that's a lot of them at once. i appreciate the little john reference. and yes fuck those guys (the loyal three)
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I can’t believe I’ve actually been reading Lore Olympus for as long as I have; and more so I can’t believe it’s actually over now.
Thank you for being a constant for so many years.
I hope to see more from Rachel Smythe in the future because her art style really is adorable.
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My Slay the Princess Ships
OKAY it felt like it was time to update my ship list! Since I've been in the fandom for longer and been playing around with more ideas and seeing what I'm really into, more mildly into, just not feeling as much as I thought, and feeling way more than I thought!
My Princess/Protagonist forms shipping is now:
The Adversary/The Protagonist
The Long Quiet/The Shifting Mound
The Protagonist/The Razor
The Protagonist/The Spectre
The Protagonist/The Thorn
The Protagonist/The Wild
The Protagonist (LQ)/The Princess (SM) in that "leave the cabin together" version of the ending, especially with the Stranger variant but really with any!
In all of these, these are… basically what I ship with each other without voices really being involved. They can be there but they aren't part of the draw for these ones.
As for Princess/voice ships, to varying degrees:
The Adversary/Voice of the Stubborn
The Burned Grey/Voice of the Smitten
The Damsel/Voice of the Smitten*
The Nightmare/Voice of the Opportunist*
The Nightmare/Voice of the Paranoid*
The Nightmare/Voice of the Cold/Voice of the Paranoid*
The Prisoner/Voice of the Skeptic*
The Razor/Voice of the Smitten
The Razor/Voice of the Stubborn
The Spectre/Voice of the Hero
The Stranger/Voice of the Broken
The Stranger/Voice of the Contrarian*** (cough)
The Stranger/Voice of the Smitten
The Stranger/Voice of the Broken/Voice of the Smitten
The Thorn/Voice of the Cheated*
The Thorn/Voice of the Opportunist*
The Thorn/Voice of the Cheated/Voice of the Opportunist
Voice of the Broken/The Wild
Voice of the Contrarian/The Wild*
Voice of the Hunted/The Wild
The Protagonist/Voice of the Hero/Voice of the Opportunist/Voice of the Paranoid/The Wraith
(TBH, I am happy to toss Hero into many of those as well… Though not necessarily all of them. I marked the ones I'm happy to add Voice of the Hero to with an asterisk! And honestly, I don't really care about the Protagonist being involved in any of these, that isn't part of the draw for me at all except for the very last one...)
And for Princess/Princess ships, again to varying degrees:
The Adversary/The Beast
The Adversary/The Damsel
The Adversary/The Prisoner
The Adversary/The Razor
The Beast/The Damsel
The Beast/The Nightmare
The Beast/The Wild
The Beast/The Witch
The Burned Grey/The Drowned Grey
The Damsel/The Prisoner
The Damsel/The Spectre
The Damsel/The Thorn
The Damsel/The Witch
The Drowned Grey/The Nightmare
The Drowned Grey/The Spectre
The Drowned Grey/The Wraith
The Nightmare/The Razor
The Nightmare/The Spectre
The Nightmare/The Witch
The Nightmare/The Wraith
The Prisoner/The Spectre
The Prisoner/The Thorn
The Prisoner/The Wild
The Prisoner/The Witch
The Prisoner/The Wraith
The Razor/The Witch
The Spectre/The Stranger
The Spectre/The Thorn
The Spectre/The Wild
The Spectre/The Witch
The Stranger/The Wild
The Thorn/The Wild
The Tower/The Witch
The Wild/The Witch
The Witch/The Wraith
And for most of these ships, I'm happy to ship combos as well when any have overlap, especially if all three do. So, like, it can go without saying that I'd also totally be into Beast/Wild/Witch or Damsel/Prisoner/Spectre.
Aaaand finally, what I am most fannishly active with: VOICES SHIPPING. The voices that I ship to varying degrees are here (and I am including Narrator ships at the bottom for Reasons):
Broken/Hunted
Broken/Smitten
Broken/Stubborn
Broken/Contrarian/Hero
Broken/Hero/Paranoid
Broken/Hunted/Stubborn
Cheated/Hero
Cheated/Opportunist
Cheated/Skeptic
Cheated/Smitten
Cheated/Contrarian/Opportunist
Cheated/Hunted/Opportunist
Cheated/Hunted/Stubborn
Cheated/Hunted/Opportunist/Stubborn
Cold/Contrarian
Cold/Hunted
Cold/Opportunist
Cold/Paranoid (OTP)
Cold/Skeptic
Cold/Smitten
Cold/Contrarian/Hero
Cold/Contrarian/Hero/Opportunist/Paranoid
Cold/Contrarian/Hero/Paranoid
Cold/Contrarian/Opportunist/Paranoid
Cold/Hunted/Paranoid
Cold/Opportunist/Paranoid
Cold/Paranoid/Skeptic
Contrarian/Hero (second OTP tbh)
Contrarian/Opportunist
Contrarian/Skeptic
Contrarian/Hero/Skeptic
Contrarian/Opportunist/Paranoid
Contrarian/Opportunist/Skeptic
Hero/Hunted
Hero/Paranoid
Hunted/Opportunist
Hunted/Paranoid
Hunted/Stubborn
Hunted/Opportunist/Stubborn
Opportunist/Paranoid
Opportunist/Smitten
Opportunist/Skeptic
Opportunist/Skeptic/Smitten
Skeptic/Smitten
Contrarian/Narrator
Hero/Narrator
Hunted/Narrator
Narrator/Opportunist
Narrator/Skeptic
Contrarian/Hero/Narrator
Hunted/Narrator/Opportunist
Narrator/Opportunist/Skeptic
As a note, unlike with my Princess shipping, I listed out all the OT3s+ that appeal to me, except that I also could get behind a whole big complicated polycule situation. I'm totally here for that!
(I do also ship The Long Quiet/The Narrator a little, but not nearly as much as LQ/SM or any of the above.)
#a lot of these i ship in really minor/low-key ways but#i could be into any of them for sure!#slay the princess#slay the princess spoilers#they're hidden under the cut tho#shipping#ship list#stp shipping#i didn't bother to update the dynamics... at this point i just find ALL potential dynamics interesting tbqh
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chapter 4 is going great
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// small thing I updated Robot's height since APPARENTLY it does say in the official guide that Rudy is only 5 feet tall ... //
// For Rex I updated it to 6'1 to make it fit with him and Mark's height difference :) //
#minor comic spoilers under the cut#// HES SO LITTLE ..... //#// thank you blizz i didnt even know a guide existed lol //#ooc.#tbd.
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speculation about why aegis and the kids who were stolen away with him were so affected by their time in the still world despite surviving it, beyond just they spent a really long time in there, as well as the reason for his ability to sense rifts before they can actually manifest:
i'm basing this off a single playthrough of the game and so might adjust the concept as i consolidate my understanding, but i'm interpreting people fading away in the still world as null seeping its essence into them ( that void is their domain as much as it's their prison, so i don't believe this is too far-fetched ) and devouring them from the inside-out. like. breaking them down to reintegrate it all into itself
it's not a quick process, as shown ingame with zelda's ( and various npcs' ) experience with the rifts herself, and null probably consumes nonliving things faster than they do living beings
spending so much time on that plane without falling to that fate and most likely escaping without a prime tri's help might mean that though the children left the still world behind, remnants of null remained within them. not by way of sharing consciousnesses or anything, but more as a null has settled within all the spaces left by what they devoured kind of deal
"all of the kids [...] have lost something" and "[they] lost a lot in that ordeal" would be massive understatements. i think every one of them is grappling with that black-hole emptiness of having virtually Everything eaten away, in a sense ( a feeling that is at once because of and comes from null, though in their case it looks like it's manifested as Hunger and externalised as a need for fulfilment [i.e. restoring the 'order' of nothingness, revenge, etc.] ), aegis is just...further along the road to recovery
what i mean by that is i think he handled things about as well as the rest of the kids when they first returned, if only slightly better due to not having accumulated as big a share of null's Influence ( implied to be related to the reason why he can move in the still world ). he was completely withdrawn, barely reactive, and couldn't find the will to do/try to do much of anything now that the goal driving him forward at that point — get out of the rift with everyone else — was accomplished
aegis is doing a lot better since, ofc! with the support of his community and those who care about him, he's learnt to commit to crafted routines and re/formed his own daily habits over the years, such that he can manage everyday life without needing the same level of help he initially did post-first rift contact
cementing a new purpose to work towards — investigate rifts, defeat the monsters that come from them, make sure nobody is swallowed up — helped in getting him back on his feet, too! even if it kind of backfired once null was defeated because he was more or less left adrift again ( he gets nudged towards treading a healthier path of Living eventually, don't worry :'D )
went on a bit of a tangent, but! back on topic: i think what pieces of null are left behind in him and the others before the end of eow sort of like. resonate with the null in the still world, in that they can all feel* when and where null concentrates its power beneath hyrule's dimensional fabric for another breakout attempt — i.e. when and where a rift will form. aegis just happens to be the only one who can do something about it
( *to varying degrees. aegis probably has the most accurate sense for it, whereas the others might be more aware of when a rift will form rather than where. and even then, it's hard to say if they'd know what the feeling actually means or if they'd have the wherewithal to acknowledge it at all )
#* shield of might / study.#* intermission / ooc.#this got unexpectedly long!#it was going to be even longer because i was going to go into aegis' initial recovery period more + the feeling of injustice intertwined#with survivor's guilt that constitute so much of his motivation outside of kindness + the minor divergence i'm gonna apply to eo.w's ending#but those are posts for another time flsdkjf#i still have to talk about his mutism too ahhhh#but i think this is a good start on the important things i want to address about aegis!#eow spoilers /#< the still world and n.ull are talked about very unvaguely under the cut
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i haven’t actually seen pictures (which is definitely spoilers) but people are talking about a thing and. not tagging their discussion of the picture as spoilers. so unfortunately i still know about the thing. good work team👍
#gonna talk about it here so if you really don’t want spoilers and haven’t seen it. keep walking#i figure if i put enough tags in the actual thing will be under a cut lol#TECHNICALLY you’re not sharing spoilers in that you’re just talking and not sharing actual content. but that feels like splitting hairs#and it’s super minor anyway but i just feel like this will be indicative of more down the line#i’m not mad i’m just like. all right i guess#anyway. keeping in mind i haven’t seen pics and don’t want to#i cannot imagine solas with hair and that seems like he would not be able to pull it off. sorry#personal.txt
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i'll say, it's interesting watching the game "grow up" in terms of handling the concept of other cultures. we keep running into these moments where it's very clear the devs realized something from the early game was not great and they're pointing at it and going "yeah. that. not good. sorry abt that". its an interesting change to observe happening in the text and in the gameplay.
the mamool ja npc who talks about how he can stop pretending to be an idiot sellsword now that he's otw back to tural was a massive exclamation mark lol same with them finally dropping the term "tribe quests" we cant have beast tribes any more. because of woke lamat
#minor dawntrail spoiler under the cut#and i mean this as a separate thing from the actual in-story arc#like yeah ARR itself has the whole bit abt the characters having to start treating the non-player races as equals etc etc#but im talking abt the execution of it all
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nobody fucking look at me
VEREESA MENTION. ITS JUST A SINGLE CRUMB BUT IM IN SHAMBLES. I LOVE HER I LOVE HER BLIZZARD SHOW HER. TO ME. PLEASE. PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. IM GONNA BE SICK VEREESA WHEN WILL YOU RETURN TO THE WAR I MISS YOU SO BAD
#minor spoilers for tww under the cut. its a literal crumb mention of a character and im going insane god bless#mine#warcraft#tww#tww spoilers
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personal ramblings and whining as it pertains to a video game under the cut, warning for melodrama i guess?
anyways with the game completed, ive got to say that emotionally the quests that resonated the most with me were wyll's, astarion's, and karlach's because like. god im tired of living life how other people want me to (especially when it comes to parents/family) or trying to live up to some ideal that people have that will never be me, and i want to be better than the people who hurt me but im so scared of who im going to be when i let go of all of this pain, and honestly no matter how much i want people to be they're never gonna be fucking sorry for what happened to me or what they did and im so angry about that and am angry at how unfair things are in general.
anyways my therapist is going to get an earful next week, xoxo gossip julian
im also pretty sure if id found a way to like. wrap up gale's quest satisfactorily that might've resonated more with me too but boy did i fuck that one up
#minor bg3 spoilers under the cut but nothing too bad#anyways these three are my favorites for a reason#even if i do love the full companion lineup equally for the most part
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Finished The Owl House today and it was good! I thought it was a bit over-hyped after finishing Season 1 but I got into it more during Season 2. The final season though... HOLY SHIT. MASSIVE applause for Dana and crew who managed to pull a great finale despite the circumstances (fuck you Disney).
tl;dr owl house good and fuck disney (Spoiler photo under the cut)
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[ im doing the perrin sidequest and im loving it?? to the point that. dare i say.
i'm making fresa eventually learn to do proper photos because of her. i'm sure she'd feel inspired
also that's it. i'm putting okidogi on a pin, i'll think about it later
but i'm totally giving fresa ursaluna ]
#big dlc spoilers under cut#dlc spoilers#pokemon spoilers#<- minor spoilers above cut#˚ ⋆。˚ 🍓 about&headcanons 🍓 ˚。⋆ ˚#also sorry im not totally here my mood isnt great rn
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How cool of a power granting system do you think mutavus is
So cool it makes me really sad that Super Minion has had one chapter in the last two years.
On it's own, "bacteria that causes mutations" isn't that remarkable.
But the fact that it's a setting where there are random, totally physics defying super powers given to any living thing, and one of those random powers was granted to a microbe, which uses its powers to cause mutations? One of my favorite world building details in anything in recent memory,
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2024 November 2nd
(You see a vision of the fuchsia.)
Context and some BlueBead Drawing Workflow Lore™: I convert a copy of my line art to pixel art by crunching it with levels and posterization so that I can quickly paint bucket in flat colors. However, when making the flats layer, I fill it in with a "missing texture" bright fuchsia first so I know if I missed any spots or if there's orphaned pixels.
While working on my last major drawing, Isabeau and Siffrin got to rock some fuchsia hair dye and Mirabelle got to enjoy a flashy shawl for a while because I thought they looked cool. And out of that trio, I deemed Isa most likely to inflict minor psychic damage on his friends for the bit. 😆
A close-up, the WIP Fuchsia Gang, and more rambling under the cut
Gosh I love drawing disgruntled / disgusted expressions so much, you can get so scrunchy with them. I think drawing stupid facial expressions is my favorite part of being an artist, genuinely. 😂
WIP of [this drawing] from October 15th! Siffrin with partial pink hair dye unironically slaps in my opinion.
Time taken on the comic was 20 hours and 31 minutes. Been trying to speed things up, but I was having too much fun playing with new line art brushes and special effects. I'm getting better at ignoring tiny inconsequential things I'd want to endlessly tweak though!
Will I ever draw in the same art style twice in a row? Who knows. :) I've been slowly trending towards the style I draw my OCs in, but it's not fully there yet, lol.
Is this post spoilers??? I feel like it's only spoilers if you know the right context for things, but heck it, it gets spoiler tagged.
#in stars and time#in stars and time spoilers#isat#isat isabeau#isat siffrin#isat mirabelle#comic#fan art#2d art
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SOMETHING REWARDED !!! LANDO N. X FEM!READER (18+)
summary: at the night of his first win, lando gave his sweet girl a reward for being his ‘lucky charm.’
content warning: smut under the cut (minors dni!), miami gp 2024 spoilers (ish), standard smut, anal play if you blink, praise kink, titfucking, body worship-esque
note: this could’ve been published an hour after the race but i got busy. it didn’t eat as much but enjoy xx
something sinful (smut) masterlist
a - n masterlist // o - z masterlist
if you’d like to get on one of my taglists, check this post out
lando’s partner wasn’t shy. she was just… reserved in the sweetest way possible. that’s what he loved about her. no amount of words could express how beautiful she was. her curves, her lips, her everything?
god lando was fucking in love with her.
anyone in miami might assume that she was feeling hot due to the sweltering weather. sure.
but lando knew the difference between the heat in her face when she’s under the sunny weather and when he whispers praises in her ears.
and he certainly knew what the heat rising in her cheeks meant when he had his hand between her thighs.
“lando…” she murmured softly, her face becoming hotter by than it was as lando hovered over her, “i- i-“
“shh…” lando tutted her with a smirk, “‘s okay, darling. ‘s just us.”
“i know,” she whispered back, “b- but you’re supposed to be celebrating tonight.”
“i told the boys i’m not showing up,” lando said, his hands were getting too generous for his touches to be just ‘teasing.’
lando won today. surely he can be something beyond generous, right? he got what he wanted for a long time, a long awaited victory.
it was only fair that his sweet girl got the brunt of that victory, too.
his lips attached themselves on her ear and nipped on it, eliciting a soft moan from her. pressing another kiss on her earlobe, lando whispered, “told them i’m too busy loving on my lucky charm.”
she let out a whine, her body squirming beneath lando’s towering ones while his hands slid her dress off.
she was left with nothing but a red lace knickers, her plump breasts eager to be devoured as lando growled quietly. his one hand created friction on her nipple while his mouth was attached to her other one.
“oh,” she let out a little whimper, her back arching just at the feeling of lando’s hands and mouth all over her. “hm-“
lando’s hands worshipped her like she deserved, gliding through her curves and between her thighs. the sweet whispers of, “lando” continued to escape her mouth.
“mmm… you’re so fucking pretty, my sweet girl,” lando murmured, his hands kneading and fondling her tits. “such good fucking tits, too.
precum leaked out of lando’s cock, his mind already feeling foggy with the thought of feeling her writhe beneath him.
“you don’t mind me fucking these tits, do you?” lando taunted her, knowing that she would say yes anyway. “can i fuck these tits, baby? hm?”
lando could have cum right there as his half-lidded eyes were trained on her flustered face. the woman didn’t show how excited she was, but she sure wanted him as much.
she bit her lip and nodded, her tits splayed out in the open. she held her breasts and squeezed them together.
lando grinned, moving up on the mattress with his cock gliding through her tits. lando let out a guttural groan, watching the tip of his cock disappearing each time he slid.
she whimpered, enjoying the sight of lando on top of her.
“fuck,” he cursed, thrusting his cock between her breast while she whined. “so good for me, baby. god, fuck. you’re gonna make me cum hard.”
“oh god…”
and if fucking her tits wasn’t any better, seeing the top of her tongue lick his moving cock became nothing but a cherry on top.
sure his first victory in miami was an achievement, but god his girlfriend was a delightful sight to see when she begged to be fucked too.
“hngh- oh god,” she whined lewdly, already too fucked out after her third orgasm of the night. from behind, lando watched himself glisten and slide out with her wetness coating his cock.
“so good f’me, darling,” lando crooned softly, thrusting into her wet cunt slowly.
she didn’t respond with anything but a muffled mewl, clutching the sheets drenched with the mess she made.
“ohhhh god fuck!” lando let out, his pace getting faster as her walls clenched around his girth.
“oh my god,” she whined, “so good, so good. fuck!~”
“such a good girl,” lando praised her, his hand snaking between her thighs to rub her clit. “let it out baby. you’re such a good girl.”
“i’m gonna cum again,” she stammered, her body squirming and writhing while being caged by lando. she could crawl away, her legs shaking vigorously as she felt her orgasm approach.
lando’s other hand glided on her ass, his thumb toying with her puckered hole as he muttered, “mmm… look at this hole of yours.”
“so tight and all,” lando commented, lust evident on his tone, “you’re gonna let me fuck this one of these days, aren’t you?”
“ngh-“
“yes?” lando chuckled darkly, “i know you said yes before. but…
“i want you to cum again,” lando whispered, his hand reaching up to tug on her hair. “cum on my cock darling. cum all over my cock.”
lando might be the victorious one today, sure, but nobody deserves a reward more than she did.
♡ moony’s reminder 🅶 (general): @hiraethrhapsody @avaleineandafryingpan @enhacolor @roseandtulips @woweewoowa @magnummagnussen @happy-nico @architect-2015 @hiireadstuff @biancathecool @scorpiomindfuck @stinkyjax @youdontknowmeshh @hyneyedfiz @decafmickey @lightdragonrayne
♡ moony’s reminder 🅴 (explicit edition): @glitterf1 @savrose129 @maxillness @bigsimperika @xoscar03
#ln4 smut#lando norris smut#lando norris imagine#lando norris#ln4#f1 smut#♔ something sinful ⎯ f1 smut#formula one smut#formula one imagine#f1 imagine#formula one#formula 1
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needs and wants | eric aqpdo x fem!reader
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: in the direct aftermath of the apocalypse, you meet a man who's worse for wear in just about every regard. even though you can't do too much to heal his injuries, it's possible that you can heal his heart. wc 10.6k (she's a doozy) 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: eric (a quiet place: day one, 2024) x fem!reader 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: SPOILERS FOR AQPDO, DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU DON'T WANT THE FILM SPOILED!, mentions of death/general apocalypse things, panic attacks, mentions of suicidal thoughts/actions (if you know eric's backstory that ended up cut from the film, he talks ab it), far too much intimacy for what this is, smut (minors dni): p in v, tit sucking, condom use 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: umm... i have no excuse for this... other than i need eric on a carnal level lol. hope you enjoy!!
It was funny how your whole world could change in a single day. And it was supposed to be a good day too; you had racked up enough PTO to allow yourself a full day off of work, and you had plans. You were going to brunch with your girlies that you hadn’t seen since nursing school, you were going to rent a movie at home, watch rom-coms in your underwear— you looked forward to sleeping in, taking a bubble bath, going to sleep early. You only achieved one part of that: you hadn’t even received the mimosa pitcher you had ordered when you heard the noise outside, as loud as a rocket taking off on the street just outside the hip brunch place, and you had hardly turned to look out the window when your world fell apart.
Silence became your norm. Fear overtook you at every turn, giving your hands a perpetual shake that you weren’t certain would ever wear off. You didn’t know too much psychological or neurological stuff— you were a trauma nurse, emergency room and ICU type stuff, you were more concerned with stopping the blood flow and stabilizing vitals than ever caring about the after-effects of shit— but you wondered if the shaking of your hands was forever part of you now. You were good under pressure, never scared, but whatever the fuck those creatures were out there had changed the makeup of your being in a single second.
When the helicopters buzzed overhead, drawing the monsters toward them and away from the city, and they announced that boats were departing from a nearby dock, you knew you had to go. More than saving yourself, you knew some very hurt and very sick people would gather there. You were sure that FEMA people would be swarming the boats to take care of the sick and injured, but you didn’t know what else to do. Your brain went on a sort-of autopilot, and you did the only thing you could think to do: you followed the crowd out to the docks.
You had never gone that long without talking. Your throat was so dry from debris and dust anyway that you weren’t even sure that you could talk. Your clothes were torn, various small injuries that weren’t anything some disinfectant and a Band-Aid couldn’t fix, along with a gash on your calf that you had determined would be fine for now but could definitely use some tending-to once on the boat, plus your shaky hands, but otherwise you were fine. When the windows shattered and the monsters invaded, your table had overturned from the force of the sonic blast, and your animal instincts kicked in, throwing yourself behind the table and barricading there. You were one of the lucky ones— you lived. Sure, glass cut up your knees and palms, and you couldn’t even breathe without worrying that your breaths would alert the monsters, but you had lived. That was more than some could say.
You felt packed out like sardines on the boat. Standing room only, except for the few exceptions of the people who were hurt or passed out. You had meager belongings in your pockets, although you weren’t sure how helpful your dead cell phone or essentially-useless credit cards would be in a time like this, but at least you had your work badge in your purse when you went to brunch. You found someone who looked like they were in charge, dressed in all-grey, not a military uniform but not civilian clothes either, and you silently showed them your badge, declaring yourself as a trauma nurse at a hospital in Brooklyn, and you gestured around, trying to ask if there was anything you could do to help. The woman shook her head, but folded her hands in a sort of ‘thank-you’ gesture.
You managed to stand towards the back of the ship, against the railing, next to the ladder, and you flinched at the loud chug of the boat casting off from the dock. Surely the monsters heard that. Everybody around you seemed to hold a deep breath, anticipatory, awaiting the worst to come at your final moments of salvation, but thankfully the monsters weren’t concerned with you all— maybe you were too far out in the water and, if the announcements from the helicopters were to be believed, the monsters couldn’t swim, so they didn’t care too much about the boat. Or maybe, the sudden sound of glass shattering from the shore, followed by shrill car alarms, captured their attention better.
You watched, horrified, as you spotted a woman racing down the street, hardly noticeable from the distance, but the sun glinted off of a silver metal pipe in her hand as she raised it in the air, and she smashed the window of the car next to her as she raced away.
“Hell’s she doing…?” The man next to you mumbled, and you instinctively put your hand on his shoulder to silence him, even though there was no need. The world had changed in a day, habits had formed in 24 hours, and you wondered how long it would take to shake the new habits. You watched the woman flit between cars, trying to outpace the monsters as she smashed windows, but then something else caught your attention. On the dock, there was a man. Wearing a yellow sweater, carrying something that you couldn’t identify, running like his life depended on it towards the edge of the dock. And maybe it did; a few straggling monsters had started after him instead of the woman, and he had to have known as well as you did that the water was safe.
Your heart rammed up into your throat as he ran, faster and faster, white sneakers hitting the metal dock, and he looked over his shoulder for a moment at the monster that was meters, feet, away from him, before he righted himself forward and hurtled himself off the edge of the dock. Everyone on the boat was watching now as he flew for a brief moment, suspended in the air as time stood still, and then plummeted into the water below. The monsters skidded to a halt at the edge of the dock, one curled claw extended out, a scrap of yellow cardigan stuck on its talon.
By now, everyone had come to the same conclusion, and started to gather at the ladder onboarding right next to you— the man would need help coming aboard. You all watched anxiously as he surfaced from the water, frantically looking around and gulping air as he tried to keep his head above water and orient himself. Finally, he looked towards the boat, and you could have sworn that he looked at you instead of anybody else. He gained his senses quickly, starting to swim out towards the boat, and you caught sight of the little white whatever-it-was he was holding: a cat. The cat seemed safe and unharmed, definitely soggy but no worse for wear, and you crouched down, extending your arm down the ladder to meet him.
You didn’t have the strength to help pull him aboard, but the man who had spoken next to you gently moved you, and he grasped the wet man’s arm and pulled him up the last few rungs of the ladder. He heaved breaths, his eyes all big and round as he took in his surroundings. Then, if you were unsure whether he was looking at you before or not, he extinguished any doubts you had this time around, because his eyeline landed on you. He was startled, hurt, traumatized— those wet eyes had seen some things, worse than you had seen.
You helped him move away from the ladder and back towards a more secluded part of the boat, and the FEMA woman you had “talked” to before came to your side, a first aid kit in one hand and a heavy wool blanket in the other.
“Sir?” you croaked. Jesus Christ, speaking really was a challenge. You cleared your throat, hoping that would improve things, and you said, “Sir, are you hurt?”
He shook his head quickly, clutching the cat in his arms, and you spotted the gash on his shin. The leg of his pants was torn and shredded, and you could bet that the wound was pretty fresh. “You can speak,” you told him gently. “We’re safe here.”
He looked at you, tears streaming down his face, and in a hushed voice, said, “How can you be so sure?”
They said the boat ride would last through the day and you would arrive by nightfall, but FEMA assured you that the destination would be worth it. A little island, they said, off the northern coast of the state, that used to house a summer camp but was abandoned however long ago. The buildings there, houses, old camp cabins, would take some sprucing up, they told you, but it was safe, and it could turn into home. As night fell, factions were made, and people divided as best as possible— the vulnerable ones, the hurt ones, the kids, went to the inside part of the boat, and the healthy stayed outside, huddled under the wool blankets and trying to forget the cold November ocean air berating their faces.
The yellow-cardiganed man was moved inside, and you moved through the small crowd in there, doing what you could to help. Passing out crackers and water bottles, winding gauze around bloody injuries, squeezing hands and offering small words of encouragement. It wasn’t a lot, but it felt good to help.
Eventually, you couldn’t ignore your fatigue anymore, and you sat down on the floor against the back wall with a sigh. It was a low din inside there, so you felt relatively safe making a little bit of noise, and you sniffled and zipped open the inside pocket of your coat. The stuff you had stashed from your purse was in there, and you frowned down at your brick of a cell phone, the screen shattered. You cast it aside, then pulled out your wallet, rifling through it to see what went missing. Thankfully, your license was still there, so if anybody needed identification at any point, you had that covered; an old fast food gift card that you were sure still had money on it but was useless now; and an old paper movie ticket that you had saved with the intention of putting it in a scrapbook. Your heart panged with hurt, and you checked every other section of your wallet, but it was empty.
Your house keys were certainly back on the floor of the restaurant, and you thought about the key to your mother’s house that lived on the ring. You hadn’t been able to contact her since the monsters came— the last thing you said to her was a text the morning of brunch, telling her to have a good day, and she had sent the classic mom :-) emoticon to you. Was she still alive? Had she managed to escape the monsters? Even though she didn’t live in the city, you wondered how far the monsters had traveled. Her neighbors were a family, with a high-school age son who played basketball and mowed your mother’s lawn; for your sanity, you chose to believe that they had taken her in (along with her prized African violets).
A little noise came from in front of you, someone clearing their throat, and you looked up through your welling tears to see him. Damp yellow cardigan, wool blanket loose around his shoulders, curls wet and flat to his forehead. He stood still, watching you for a moment, before he spoke, a little louder than the first time but still a whisper. “Never caught your name,” he said. An accent. Not a native New Yorker.
You told him with a shrug. Your eyes canvassed his frame, watching him shiver a little in what was probably an adrenaline rush, and your eyes landed on that nasty cut on his shin. It wasn’t actively bleeding, but still very red. It looked maybe a little inflamed, a tiny bit swollen, and you started to reach out for it, but stopped yourself. Your hands were filthy and, if infection was already setting in the way you suspected it was, whatever germs you had probably weren’t good for the wound. You withdrew your hand and settled in your lap, and you cleared your throat. “One of the FEMA people can help with that,” you told him, nodding towards his leg. “Bandages and anti-inflammatories and shit.”
“Aren’t you a nurse?” the man asked, now his turn to nod at you. You had clipped your badge to the collar of your coat and, even though the plastic flower that had once surrounded the metal clip was shattered and long gone, the clip still served its purpose.
“I am,” you said. “But I don’t have bandages.” You cracked a loose smile, and you winced at the bottle of water and pile of crackers next to you on the floor. “I’ve got crackers and water.”
“I’m starving,” he told you, returning the small smile. “May I?”
You nodded, and he worked himself down to the floor (he seemed to be favoring his left ankle a little, the same leg with the gash). He settled back against the wall, sighing heavily, and he took a pack of crackers into his hands and read the label for a moment. “‘Peanut butter’,” he read. “D’ya like these?”
“They’re alright,” you said. “I used to buy the same ones, shove ‘em in my work bag to eat between patients. Kinda bland and gross, but they get the job done.”
He nodded, and he tore the corner of the plastic sleeve and extracted a peanut butter cracker. “I used to like the ones with, erm, cream cheese and chives,” he said. “A quick snack at work. S’never what I wanted to eat, but sometimes I’d be at the office ‘til late, and at that point, take what you can get, yeah?”
“Yeah,” you agreed. “What did you do?”
“Lawyer,” he said, popping one of the crackers into his mouth.
“Oh, shit,” you chuckled. “Yeah, you had some long nights… My sister’s husband is a paralegal, he used to tell me all about it.”
“Cool,” he told you. “And you, Miss Nurse?”
“And me what?” you asked.
“What’s your husband do?” he asked.
You laughed. You couldn’t help it. “I’d have to have one of those for him to have a job,” you said. “No, being a nurse is very, like… If you’re not married by the time you leave nursing school, all hope is lost. You won’t ever have any free time to go on dates or even think about that sorta stuff.”
“Same with law school,” he told you. “All my mates were engaged or married when we graduated, and everyone always told me, ‘Oh, Eric, you’ll find the right girl! She’s out there somewhere’, and it’s like… If she’s not in my office building or on the subway home at 2AM, I’m not meeting her.”
“You went to school around here?” you asked, and he (you assumed his name was Eric, based on his anecdote) nodded, then shrugged.
“Cornell,” he said. “Then got hired at a firm in the city, and just… Never left.”
“Well, that’s cool,” you said lightly. “I’m assuming you’re not from around here?”
He shook his head. “Kent,” he said. “About an hour out from London.”
“Wow,” you said softly. “That change must’ve been… A lot.”
Eric shrugged. “I dunno,” he said. “It was alright, I suppose. At that time, I was sorta fighting with my dad all the time, really wanting to leave and go somewhere but he didn’t want that…” He trailed off, letting the conclusion form by itself. “Haven’t seen ‘em in-person since then. I always said I was busy, or it was too expensive, or… I was supposed to go back home at Christmas… My sister had a baby and I was supposed to meet him then…” He trailed off, obviously at a loss for what else to say, and you sighed.
“I’m sure they’re okay,” you told him, even though you yourself doubted it. “I mean, maybe the monsters are only here. They don’t like water; if they came from here, they can’t get over there.”
Eric nodded slowly. His eyes scanned the room, looking and listening, and he reached his hand out in front of him, making a small noise with his tongue against his teeth. You followed his gaze and found his cat, all furry with white and black spots, being adored and pet by a little boy sitting on a cot close by, and Eric tutted at the cat again. The cat turned their big dark eyes to their owner, and dutifully trotted over, snuggling in-between Eric’s criss-cross-applesauce legs.
“Who’s this?” you asked.
“Frodo,” Eric said, stroking the cat between his ears. Frodo began to purr, his eyes closing blissfully, and Eric said, “He was my friend’s, but she… She told me to take care of him.”
Your mind brought back the image of the woman running, distracting the monsters away from Eric. “Was that the one who…?” you started, and Eric nodded.
“He was her service animal,” he said. “She had cancer, he sort-of alerted her whenever her pain medication was going out… Also kept her company in hospice. He’s quiet, so you don’t have to worry.”
“Well, none of us have to worry about that,” you said, and Eric took in a breath. “Not anymore. Not with the island.”
“Right,” Eric sighed. “Almost forgot.”
“I’m worried I’ll never go back to normal,” you admitted. “Even just two days of thinking like this… Trauma’s so fucking weird.”
Eric nodded in agreement. You caught him staring at your hands, shaking and shivering as they laid in your lap, and he started to unwind the blanket from around himself to settle over you, but you shook your head. “M’not cold,” you told him. “Just… Nervous. Y’know?”
Eric watched you for a moment, making sure that you weren’t bullshitting him (you were a little; your coat was wet through, and you definitely could do with a dry coat, but you would live), and he said, “I think you need to pet my cat.”
“Do I?” you asked with a chuckle.
“You sure do,” Eric nodded. “He doesn’t bite or scratch— he might nibble your fingers a little, but only ‘cause he’s curious.”
You reached out for Frodo, letting him sniff your hand a little before he shoved his solid little head under your fingers, squinting his eyes as you started to scratch behind his ears. You couldn’t help the smile that overtook your face, and you said, “He’s very sweet.”
“He’s smart too,” Eric said. “He can do maths. Look’it: Frodo, what’s one minus one?”
Frodo, of course, responded in silence, and Eric smiled, cocking his head. “I think that’s impressive,” he said, and you huffed out a laugh.
“Silly,” you mumbled under your breath, moving to scratch Frodo on his chin. “When’s the last time he’s eaten? I can try to find something for him.”
“Last night,” Eric said, his smile faltering. “Sam might’ve given him something earlier this morning, but I didn’t wake up until later.”
That’s how you greeted the island, petting Frodo and sharing light stories about your past lives. Nothing too heavy or sad or emotional, even though it felt like any story about your past life held an air of sadness and mourning. You could try to go back to normal, but normal was long gone. As everyone departed the boat under the dusky stars, there was a large team of FEMA workers to greet you with big, heavy bags and send you to an empty cabin for the night. You and Eric (and Frodo) stuck together, and you received your bags and moved down to a cabin. To your surprise, the lights worked, as did a small space heater in the corner, but you can tell it had been running for some time, because the inside was already warm. Several beds were set up and made with thin, government-issued bedsheets, but it was far better than nothing.
You went about unpacking the bag as Eric moved to the small bathroom and shut the door. There was a change of clothes, sweatshirt and pants and underwear and socks, basic toiletries like a toothbrush and shampoo and a small bar of soap, two bottles of water, a plastic packaged MRE (you had Menu 3, “chicken, egg noodles, and vegetables in sauce”), and some things like Band-Aids and small packages of Advil like what you kept stocked in the ER, along with a sanitary napkin, and, the piece de resistance (courtesy of the American government, you’re very welcome), a condom. You frowned at the last thing and slid it into your toiletries bag underneath the bar of soap to hide it; to be frank, sex was the last thing you wanted or needed. Your brain was still in survival mode, and you didn’t even feel like you could settle down enough to sleep, let alone to fuck. Could anybody here?
You heard the shower squeak on in the bathroom, and the pipes creaked as water rushed through. You stripped off your clothes, exchanging them for the warmer and drier and less dirty option, and you sniffled as your fingers began to warm up, becoming less stiff but considerably more sweaty. The bed creaked under you as you sat down, the springs screaming at you, and you rubbed the paper-thin blanket between your fingers. It reminded you of the quality of the hospital, where you might as well be using copy paper instead of fabric. If you had known that your last night in your bed, with your memory foam pillow and weighted blanket, would truly be your last, you would have savored the experience far more. Would you even be warm enough under those blankets?
You couldn’t ponder it any longer, because Frodo suddenly caught a bee in his bonnet, and he skittered from atop the second bed, where Eric had settled his things before he went to the shower. He careened to the closed bathroom door, and he got up on his hind legs, pawing at the door handle. Wordlessly, he craned his tiny head to look at you, and he made the first cat noise you heard him make, a sort of “mrrow” chirping groan. As you got up and went to grab him (“Eric’s just taking a shower, Fro, he’ll be right back”), Frodo turned back to the door and began to bat at the handle, like he was attempting to turn it.
And then you remembered. Frodo was a service cat. He had been trained to alert for certain things, and Eric had mentioned rising pain levels, but what else could Frodo alert for? Suddenly, your heart jumped into your throat, and you knocked on the door. “Eric? You okay?” you asked, but you received no answer. “Eric? Hey, man, Frodo’s freaking out, are you alright in there?”
It was hard to hear too much over the sound of the running shower, but you heard the unmistakable shaking breath of a gasping sob, and, maybe against your better judgement, you turned the door handle. The door wasn’t locked, and the hinges squeaked as you opened the door. Eric had shed his blanket and cardigan and loosened his tie, but he was backed into the far corner of the bathroom, staring at the porcelain bathtub with eyes as big as dinner plates. The faucet was running, the tub filling up, but Eric was frozen. Quickly, you turned the tap and shut off the water, and you gave him his space as you asked “What’s wrong? Can you tell me what happened?”
Eric shook his head, his mouth contorting into an ugly sob, and he squeezed his eyes shut. Tears leaked out, and he just kept shaking his head over and over. “No, no,” he mumbled. “No!”
“Hey, easy,” you told him gently. “What’s going on? How can I help?”
“Th-The water,” Eric gasped. “I—I—” His knees gave out, and he slumped against the wall with a sob. He began to claw at his shirt, at the topmost button; even though it was undone, he still seemed to want it looser.
You rushed to his aid, pushing his hands aside and starting at his shirt buttons. His eyes were still shut tight, but you needed to see his pupils— if he was in shock, or if something else was happening, the dilation of his pupils could help tell you. “Eric,” you said softly. “Open your eyes, please. Please? I need to see your eyes.”
Slowly, his eyes fluttered open, and you saw his pupils so big and dark, they almost overtook the brown of his iris. His face was pale, his chest heaving as you undid his buttons, and you pressed your fingers to the side of his neck to check his pulse. Fast, hard, heavy. You had been by his side all night, he hadn’t taken any medication that he could be having a reaction to, and he had been eating the same crackers and water that you had. There weren’t many other conclusions to come to— a panic attack. But at what?
Eric sank down to the floor, sobbing and shaking, and you followed him, putting a gentle but controlling grip on his wrists. You didn’t think he would, but you needed to control him if he started to get violent. “Eric, take a breath,” you told him. “You’re okay. You’re safe. Nothing’s going to hurt you, okay? Everything is alright.”
Eric sucked in a breath and doubled over on himself, and you kept your hands on his wrists as you shifted away— if he got sick, you didn’t want it on your clothes. Although, you were sure you could get different ones somehow. But he didn’t get sick, he just kept crying. You felt awful and tasted bitter in your mouth. Typically, at this point, you would be paging the mental health wing to come by and evaluate him, and you’d move on to the next person waiting in the ER. You didn’t know how to talk someone down from a panic attack. You didn’t even know how to do that for yourself, let alone for Eric.
“Okay,” you whispered. “Okay, it’s okay. What happened? Did something happen?”
Eric’s eyes glazed over you and settled behind your shoulder, and you looked back to see the bathtub. It was hardly half-full, but everything clicked into place. “The water,” you said. “You’re afraid of the water. Is that it?”
Eric sniffled and nodded weakly, and you blinked away tears. “That’s okay,” you whispered. “That’s totally okay. I mean, you had to jump into the water to get away from the monsters, I don’t blame you for being afraid—”
“I was down in the subway,” Eric blurted out. “When the monsters came. I was there, and I couldn’t stop thinking, I just kept thinking, and I… I didn’t have the guts to do it. I wanted to do it, I wanted to! But I was too scared that it would hurt. Was scared I’d looked too fucked up and they wouldn’t be able to tell who I was, and my-my mum, thinking about my mum being told, it would kill her, and I was just thinking… And the water came rushing in. Filled everything up, there was no air… I had to swim, and I can’t swim, I never learned really, but I was swimming and I just thought ‘I don’t actually want to die’. But I started feeling spotty, all lightheaded and fairy, and I think I was starting to drown, but I saw the light and came up…”
You were at a loss for words. If you were understanding him, he had been trying to kill himself before the monsters. It sounded like he was moments away from stepping in front of a train. His saving grace was the flood in the tunnels. You had trouble swallowing as your throat went thick, and you lowered your eyes for a minute before you loosened your grip on his wrists. “It’s okay,” you whispered. “You’re gonna be alright. Do you want to take a shower instead?”
Eric shook his head. “Doesn’t work,” he mumbled. “Only the tub does.”
You sighed heavily. “Do you want me to stay?” you asked. “Or I can wait outside the door?”
Eric seemed edging into a catatonic state, just shivering and blinking, and you frowned. You finished your abandoned job of undoing his shirt buttons, and you loosened his tie until it came off completely, and you gently pushed off his stained and ragged buttoned shirt. His undershirt wasn’t in much better shape, the underarms and neck stained with sweat, and you started to take it off, but paused. “Is this okay?” you asked. He didn’t react to your question, just staring at your neck, and you carefully angled his head up to look you in the face. “Eric. Is it okay if I undress you and put you in the bath? I’ll be right here the whole time, I won’t leave you alone.”
Eric weakly nodded, shifting his arms a little to better help you pull his undershirt over his head, and his hands went down to his pants to finish the job. You quickly considered what the next steps were as Eric fished his belt from his pants loops, and you pushed the sleeves of your sweatshirt up to your elbows to free up your hands. Eric, now only in his boxers, gave you a pathetic look, and you took him by the hand and helped him to his feet. You figured that he had forgone removing his boxers for a reason, so you didn’t push it, and you held him stable as he lifted a shaking foot over the edge of the bathtub. He was silent, but you watched tears run down his cheeks as he settled both feet in the water, his grip on your hand so tight that it almost hurt.
Slowly, he sat down in the tub, and the water splashed your hand. It was warm but not hot enough to hurt, and you sat by the edge of the bathtub, watching Eric as he sniffled. He certainly was dirty after two days in an apocalyptic city, and you were sure that you weren’t any better off, and you started to get up to retrieve the toiletry bag that he had brought in with him, settled by the sink, but his tight grip only became more vice-like as you tried to depart. “Don’t—” he choked out, and you shushed him gently.
“I’m not leaving,” you told him. “Just getting the shampoo and stuff, just by the sink.”
“Can you get in?” Eric asked softly, almost at a whisper. “When you come back?”
“I-In?” you repeated. “Like, in the bath?”
Eric nodded. He was watching you with his big, intense eyes, and a shiver ran down your back.
“Okay,” you told him. “Umm… I don’t know if I can. I don’t have any other clothes, and I can’t get these wet.”
“Please?” Eric whimpered. “Need… Just need help.”
Maybe it was because you felt bad for him, or maybe you were feeling something that you didn’t want to consider yet, but regardless of the reason, you nodded. You got up from the floor and retrieved the bag from the sink counter, and you came back to the tub. The sides of the tub were curved, not allowing for you to settle the stuff on the edge, and you quickly handed the shampoo and soap to him. He held them gingerly, and he averted his eyes down to the water as you put the bag down and started to pull off the sweatshirt. “Eric,” you said softly. “You can look. You’re gonna see everything in the next few minutes anyway, so it doesn’t matter.”
Slowly, Eric raised his eyes up, but he still didn’t look staright at you. At least now it wasn’t obvious that he was avoiding looking at you like before, where it felt like he would be burned alive if he looked. You carefully pulled the sweatshirt over your head and set it by your feet, then you pulled down the sweatpants and stepped out of them. Your heart was beating quickly as you lowered yourself into the bathtub, sitting with your back to Eric, and he nudged his legs a little wider to allow you to sit comfortably. The water felt good on your aching muscles, especially your back, and you sighed lightly. You sat for a moment, trying to drum up enough courage to turn to him and start to help, but he beat you to it.
Eric’s hands were warm, his palm a little rough, as he touched your shoulder, sliding his hand down a little to reach your back. His fingers played with the ends of your hair, and he lowered his hand back to the water. He cupped his palm and let water flow in, then he brought it up to you and wet your hair. Was this his definition of help? To help himself, he had to help others? It made sense, but it still took you a little by surprise. You don’t think anybody had ever washed your hair for you, not since you were a kid. But this was different, in just about every way possible. It was intimate in a way that made your breath catch in your throat, and you swallowed thickly as Eric lifted a hand and tilted your head back to lightly pour water over the front of your hair. He was careful in his work, making sure not to get it on your face or in your ears, and you listened to his breathing even out as he diligently did his task.
The shampoo was some cheap, basic crap, didn’t smell like anything and was only good for getting the oil out of your hair, but the way that Eric worked it into your hair made it seem like it was made by the gods. You felt relaxed, the first time in a long time, and your eyes slipped close as his fingertips worked into your scalp. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt that good, especially by someone else’s hands— maybe years, it was hard to say. You knew that, no matter how good it felt, you couldn’t sink too hard into the feeling of it. Eric just needed to help you, and this was his help; nothing more, nothing less.
He gently poured water from his palms over your hair, rinsing it out as best as possible, and you felt that hot streak shoot up your nose. You wanted to cry. You hadn’t cried in… You had no idea. It certainly had been a long time, and you frowned and gulped as you held down the tears. Unluckily for you (or maybe luckily; it was nice to know Eric was so attentive), he noticed your catched breathing, and his hands gently settled on your shoulders. “Are you okay?” he asked gently.
“Are you?” you answered, almost a knee-jerk reaction. Don’t worry about yourself, worry about your patient, your friend, anybody else. You came last in your mind, everybody else was more important than you.
“That’s not what I asked you,” Eric said firmly. “Are you okay?”
“I…” you started. You wanted to tell him that you were fine, that nothing was wrong. He didn’t need to worry about you, you were tough, you could handle yourself. You watched as water filtered through your own fingers, pooling in your palm but escaping out of every little break and crevice possible, and you pursed your lips as you slowly rubbed your face, trying to wash away to grime and dirt. You shook your head lightly, trying to come up with any words to express yourself, and you wiped off your cheeks as you sniffled. “I don’t know.” You couldn’t come up with any better explanation; you just didn’t know if you were okay or not. Your hands slid down your face and flattened up against your neck, and you sighed. “Are you okay?” you tried again.
“I’ll be okay,” Eric told you. His hands smoothed down your shoulders to your arms, and he squeezed your upper arm for a moment before he went for the soap, starting up a lather between his palms.
“Well, sure, we’ll all be okay eventually,” you replied. “But are you okay right now?”
Eric waited until he was washing your back to answer. His sudsy hands slipped over your skin easily, but he dug his fingertips into your muscles, offering relief. “I’ll be okay,” he repeated. “I don’t know what I am right now, to be honest. Head’s just full of… I don’t know. A whole lot of noise, but not any one thing. It’s all quiet out here, but in there, it’s just…” He sighed, and his hands halted at your sides. He obviously had been on track to move to your front, doing his job on autopilot, and he only thought about what he was doing as he was about to do it.
Silently, you shifted your weight back just a hint, closer to him, trying to tell him that it was alright without saying the words. He quickly caught on to what you were telling him, and his hands slid around your body to your front. To your relief, he avoided where you had expected his hands to go, instead wrapping his arms around your shoulders and hugging himself to you, setting his chin on your shoulder. “You make it quiet up there,” Eric whispered, barely above a breath, like he was afraid of saying it out loud. “I don’t know how, I don’t know why… But you start talking, and it’s like everything else fades away.”
That was your breaking point. Tears started to fall from your eyes, and you sniffled as your hands reached up to your neck and clutched his wrists, looking for anything tangible to hold on to while you cried. And cried you did, your face contorted as you sobbed, your shoulders shaking and chest heaving, and you squeezed Eric’s wrists. He was quick to move impossibly closer, molding his front to your back, and his arms slipped down to your middle, squeezing you tightly as he buried his face in your neck and began to cry as well. He was much quieter than you, not having nearly as much that he held back and needed to get rid of, but it felt good to have someone commiserate with you.
You weren’t sure who moved first— maybe there wasn’t a first to move, maybe you both moved at the same time— but somehow your foreheads came to touch, and your crying pettered down to a sniffle and watery eyes. Your hand came up to touch his cheek, scruffy with a few days’ old beard trying to grow in, and your thumb stroked his cheekbone. He keened into your touch, his eyes fluttering open to look at you. His big brown eyes, so full of every emotion, hidden just so but easy to see if you knew where to look, locked on yours, and your lips fell open in anticipation of his mouth on yours.
Instantly, though, you shifted away and lightly cleared your throat. This wasn’t the time for that. You didn’t know if there would ever be a time for that again. Quietly, you splashed water on your face, and stood up, carefully getting out of the bathtub and going after the towel that sat on the countertop. You scooped your clothes up off the floor as well, and you escaped from the bathroom without a word. You were sure he was confused, maybe even wounded, but you didn’t care. On some level, you did want that— you wanted to feel wanted, to feel adored, cared about, and Eric was a great guy for that, but you didn’t want just that. You wanted a life, you wanted a partner, you wanted love— not just some trauma-borne fuck that you forgot about as soon as it happened.
You dried your body and slipped into your full outfit, pants and sweatshirt and underwear and socks, and you sat on your bed as you dried your hair. You listened as, inside the bathroom, the water sloshed against the side of the tub while Eric moved around, and you watched as Frodo calmly stalked the perimeter of the room, seeming to check every nook and cranny. You put your damp towel to the side and tutted out at the cat, and Frodo looked up at you for a moment before he scampered over to you, hopping up onto the bed and settling himself in your lap. “You’re a good boy, Fro,” you whispered, stroking his back. “Such a good boy.”
“Did I do something wrong?” Eric’s voice floated to you, and you turned to him. He was now all clean as well, his hair soggy and his face free of grime, wearing the sweatpants and sweatshirt. His hair was pushed away from his face, and you could see, even in the dim light, freckles dotting his forehead.
You sighed. “No,” you replied. “I’m just… I don’t know.”
“Did you not want me to…?” Eric began.
“No, no, it’s not that,” you told him quickly. “Not that at all, I did want you to, I just… I don’t know if I can do all that.”
“All what?” Eric asked. “What did you think was going to happen if I kissed you?”
“Well,” you shrugged. “I don’t know, I assumed more would come of it. And I just don’t know if I’m ready for more. Even before the world came crashing down, I wasn’t ready for more. That’s why I didn’t have anyone; not because I didn’t have time, although that was true. I’m just… Scared.”
Eric quietly moved towards you, bypassing his bed and settling at the extreme edge of yours, as far away as possible while still occupying the same space. Frodo looked at him with thin eyes and he slowly blinked at Eric, and his tail flopped in an indignant half-wag. “Scared of what?” Eric asked.
You sighed. “That I won’t be right for anyone,” you said. “Even back when I was on the market, people always… I don’t know. Wanted more, and for whatever reason, I could never give more to them. I was always so afraid of what would happen when I finally gave all of myself to someone that I never did, and by the time I figured out that someone did want all of me, it was too late and I’d already lost them. I can never win— I’m always never enough or I’m too much. I’m never just right.”
Eric thought on your words for a few moments, and he moved closer to you, just an inch. “Yeah,” he said. “But that was back then. Everything has changed. Everything is different now. You don’t need to be afraid of being what’s right, because what used to be right is just… All sorts of fucked up now. Nobody knows anything anymore. I certainly don’t. But I know what I want, more than I ever have before.”
“And let me guess,” you said. “You want me?”
You hoped that calling him out on his cheesy cliché would have him back down. You liked that he wanted you, and you wanted him too, you wanted him so badly that it hurt, but you didn’t want him to mistake wanting you for wanting a connection with someone.
“I want to be okay again,” Eric told you. “But I need you.”
That was the most magical word of all. Need. It punched a hole in your heart and took your breath away, and you watched him as he watched you, just seeing who would dare to break first. Frodo seemed to know something you didn’t, because he jumped up out of your lap and skittered across the room with an uncharacteristic yowl, and you frowned as he sped away, but your frown was quickly wiped off your face as Eric bridged the gap and kissed you.
You didn’t hesitate to kiss him back. He held your face as his lips moulded to yours, a perfect fit as you kissed back, and you wound your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. It felt good to kiss someone, to hold someone and be held by someone. You forgot how much you missed the feeling of another person, and you melted into his body as he claimed your hips in his strong hands. His knuckles were scuffed up, but he held you so gently, and you easily fell back onto the bed. He followed you, settling over you like he had done it a thousand times before, but the way his hands slowly slid up the sides of your shirt to touch your bare skin showed you how much it meant to him. Slow and gentle and sweet, he was everything you had wanted from a partner and a lover for as long as you could remember.
But you could tell, even though he was being sweet, how badly he wanted to have you. His kiss was greedy, shifting away from your mouth to kiss your chin and jaw and neck, almost feral with his need for you, but you welcomed it. Strong emotions like that were flattering, especially here and now, and you didn’t waste much time before sliding your hand past the elastic waistband of the sweatpants nestled around his hips. Your palm found his cock instantly, and you held in your gasp of surprise at his size— he definitely had something to be proud of. His skin was warm through the layer of his underwear, and you paused and widened your eyes at him, a quiet question of how far he wanted you to go.
“You don’t have to be quiet anymore,” Eric whispered. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”
You shivered underneath him at the sweet name he had bestowed on you, and you quietly asked, ���Do you want me to…?”
“God, yes,” he moaned. “Haven’t done this in so long…”
You couldn’t help but crack a smile as you slipped under his briefs, and your fingers wrapped around his thick length. His skin was hot to the touch, his cock rock-hard, and he moaned softly into your neck at the contact. Whether he meant to or not, his hips rolled forward, pushing himself further into your grip, and he quickly whispered, “M’sorry, fuck—”
“Don’t apologize,” you told him. Your free hand went to cradle his cheek, and you shifted his face so that you could kiss his plush lips again. “It’s hot.”
“Oh, yeah?” Eric asked. “It’s hot how…” He paused to kiss you, nipping at your bottom lip with his front teeth, and he continued. “How desperate I am?”
“I am too,” you told him. “I just hide it better.”
Almost as if he was checking if you were lying, his hand skated down from your side and into your pants, letting his fingers mold to your cunt, and he chuckled lightly. “God, you’re wet,” he smiled. “That makes me feel better.”
“Were you worried I wasn’t?” you asked.
“Just a little,” Eric whispered, wrinkling his nose. “But I figured you’d tell me if something wasn’t working for you.”
“I’ll let you know,” you told him. You chased him into another kiss, and his tongue invaded your mouth. It had been so long since you had someone make you feel like that, and you whined softly into his mouth. “Eric, please.”
“What do you want?” he asked. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll do it.”
“Anything,” you whimpered. Your legs shifted, coming up to anchor around his waist, and you slowly started to stroke his cock, teasing his soft head, just to see his reaction.
Thankfully, his cheeks went red, and that pretty pink mouth of his opened in a moan, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he mumbled, “Fuck, sweetheart, I’m already too close for you to be doing that.”
“Already?” you asked. You sounded a little more surprised than you meant to, and you quickly added, “That’s really attractive, Eric, I hope you know that.”
“What is?” he chuckled. “That I’ve got a short fuse?”
“Well, yeah,” you shrugged sheepishly. “I think it is, anyway. How can I help you?”
“Umm,” Eric said, then swallowed thickly. “Can I… Tits?”
You smiled at him, and you laid a gentle kiss on his lips before he shifted away, letting you pull up your sweatshirt. Your little survival packs hadn’t provided you with a bra of any kind, and you watched Eric’s already-wide eyes flare out at the sight of your chest. He didn’t say a word before he moved down your body and started to kiss everywhere he could reach, taking time and care on your tits. Your hand fell out of his pants at the angle shift, and you settled your fingers to twist in his damp curls as his own hand replaced yours, jerking himself off as he gently licked at your hardening nipple.
“S’that okay?” he whispered, casting his doe eyes up at you, and you nodded quickly. “’Cause if it’s not, I can stop—”
“I promise it’s okay,” you whispered. “I swear.”
Eric smiled. “She swears,” he whispered under his breath, and you giggled. “She swears she likes when I suck her tits. Aren’t I a lucky guy?”
You could hardly ignore the hot pressure between your legs, and you snaked your hand in-between your bodies and started to push down your sweatpants, but Eric noticed what you were up to, and he tugged his hand out of his own pants to capture the waistband of your sweatpants in his grasp. “Please,” he said. “Allow me.” You could tell that he intended to be funny, but his flushed face and fucked-out pupils made it seem a lot more pathetic than you’re sure he meant to be, but that just made a rush of heat strike your core, and your head fell back in bliss as you felt your hot skin slowly exposed to the air.
When you lifted your head back up to look at him, you watched as he shed his own clothes, finally matching you, and you bit your lip as his heavy cock rose to lay against his tummy. He had the thinnest trail of hair coming from down his belly button, smatterings of hair on his chest, a nicely-groomed bush of hair at the base of his cock; he clearly cared about the way he looked, and you loved that. You wondered if the Eric you knew was anything like the Eric before the monsters came, and you watched as he leaned back and began to gently place kisses down the length of your body. He was soft and gentle with you, although you were nearly certain he wanted to take you then and there, and you wiggled a little under his lips. “Can we…” you started. “Do that later?”
“Do what?” Eric asked.
“The whole ‘sweet and kissy’ thing,” you said. “Not to sound, like, sex-starved or anything, but I am, and I think my heart’s gonna explode if you’re not inside me soon.”
Eric chuckled, obviously not expecting that level of honesty out of you, and he pushed his damp curls off of his forehead. “Whatever you’d like, sweetheart,” he told you. “As long as you promise to let me eat your cunt eventually. I can only go so long seeing you like this and be expected to not put my mouth on you.”
“Sure,” you replied, secretly excited that he was expecting a second time.
Eric swiped a quick kiss on your mouth, and then he furrowed his eyebrows. “Umm…” he began. “I— Do you… Are you on any birth control or anything?”
You squeezed your eyes shut. “No,” you sighed. “I was, but all that’s back in my apartment in Brooklyn. Haven’t taken my pill since, like, three nights ago, so I’m basically fucked for the whole month.”
“Fuck,” Eric whispered, his eyebrows knitting together in concern. “I guess, are you alright with this, then? We can figure something else out—”
“There’s, umm,” you winced. “A condom, in the bag with the shampoo and everything. There’s one in mine, and I bet there’s a second one in yours too.”
“Oh, shit, really?” Eric laughed. “That’s… That’s pretty funny.”
“Apparently, FEMA knows what people do in times of crisis,” you smiled.
“So, what I’m hearing,” Eric started, moving himself off the bed and going to your toiletries bag on the floor. His back turned to you, and you felt your eyes widen in shock at the state of his ass. Jesus Christ, this guy had a great ass, smooth and plump and perfectly rounded; you almost wanted to reach out and bite it. “Is that we can fuck twice, and then we’ll need to figure something else out.”
“Is that so?” you asked, and Eric came back to the bed, deftly tearing open the condom wrapper. You leaned up on your elbows to watch as he got back up on his knees, caging you between his thick thighs, and he made quick work of rolling the condom down his thick length, making a quiet grunt as he got it situated the way he wanted. “What makes you think there’ll be a third time? Or a second, for that matter?”
“Won’t there?” Eric asked. “You seem pretty into it right now. Or least your cunt is; look at how wet she is for me.”
“Well, yeah, now,” you teased him, biting the tip of your tongue, trying to will your thundering heart to go back to normal. “But what if, when everything is said and done, you’re actually a terrible fuck and I don’t want anything else to do with you?”
He laughed deep in his chest, and he took your thighs in his strong hands and opened your legs, smoothly settling himself so he could rub his hard cock against your weeping cunt. You felt blood thrumming under your skin, making every inch of you pulse and surge, and you whined high in your throat when the head of his cock caught at your hole, threatening to slip in with ease. “I doubt that, sweetheart,” he told you. “I’ve been told I’m a fantastic fuck.”
“Are you sure they weren’t trying to keep your ego intact?” you asked, and Eric tilted his head curiously at you.
“Well, they weren’t telling me much of anything,” he said. “Usually, by the end, they’re so fucked-out and brainless that they can hardly string a sentence together.”
Then, without a word of warning, he gripped your hips and slid himself inside of you, and you gasped. It had been so long that you had almost forgotten what sex felt like, but this was something entirely new and different. You could feel every ridge and vein on his cock, even through the condom, and he gave a delicious throb as you tightened your thighs around his hips. “Fuck!” you yelped, and a shade of worry passed over his face for just a moment. “I-I’m okay,” you told him quickly. “Just… Fuck, Eric, you’re so big.”
“You flatter me,” he chuckled. Slowly, he began to rock his hips into you, moving shallowly at first, just letting you get used to his size, and his dull fingernails buried into the flesh of your hip. You couldn’t help all the little noises he caused you to make— you could feel every inch of him, burying deep within you, stretching you and filling you like he was made for you, and he leaned down and ghosted against your lips with his. “Feel good?” he whispered, and you nodded quickly.
“Do I?” you asked softly. Your arms went around him, holding him close to you, and you pressed your fingers into his shoulders. He felt like a lifeline, his warm skin keeping you grounded, and you didn’t even care if you sounded pathetic or insecure. He made you feel good and safe, and that’s all that you cared about.
“Fuck, so good,” he grunted out. He was picking up speed, gaining a good rhythm that made you wonder how prolific he had been before his career got in the way, and you listened to the bed squeak under you as he mumbled, “So warm… So wet… You feel like a dream… Remember that short fuse I talked about?”
“Really?” you smiled. “Already?”
“Listen, woman,” Eric started, and you dragged him into a messy kiss. You loved him talking like that, and it made you realize just how close you were as well. He tugged away from the kiss to take a deep breath, and he went in to kiss you again, hungry and wanting you. He was going fast now, pumping in and out of you, leaving pleasure and sparks in his wake, and your legs twitched and tightened as the knot in your belly twisted closer and closer to its end. “I haven’t had sex in years,” Eric continued, finally tearing himself away from your lips. “And my right hand can only do so much after a while. So excuse me for being a little quick to the draw tonight.”
“How many years?” you asked.
Eric sighed. “I dunno,” he said. “At least since I graduated law school, so… Five years, maybe?”
“God,” you chuckled. “That’s… A while.”
“No, wait,” Eric said. “Three years. My birthday a few years ago, my mates took me out to a bar, and I met a girl, I spent the night at her place… And she never answered my texts after that.”
“Ouch,” you hissed. “That must’ve hurt that ego of yours.”
“Not gonna lie, it did,” Eric laughed. “But it’s for the best. I didn’t have time for a girlfriend anyway, I would’ve been an awful boyfriend to her. Or to anyone, not just her… What about you?”
“Umm…” you started. “Sex… Yes, I know what that is. Definitely a thing I’ve had before now.”
“Don’t play with me like that,” Eric started, jokingly wide-eyed and startled, and you laughed.
“About the same, I guess,” you said. “Three-ish years… It was back a few years ago, I was feeling bad about getting older and having a career but no partner, so I… I went on a dating app, found a guy, and we talked for a little bit and hooked up, but I got a bad vibe from him, so I broke it off.”
“I’m sorry,” Eric said. “Did you like him?”
“Not really,” you sighed. “And he wasn’t even that great in bed.”
“So, I’ve got him beat in every category, right?” Eric asked.
You kissed him again, cupping your hand across the back of his neck, and he smoothed his hands up your body lovingly. “You’ve got everyone beat, baby,” you told him.
“I think you’re an angel, actually,” Eric told you, and you shyly shook your head. “No, no, I think so. I don’t care if you don’t agree, that’s what I think.”
“Whatever you say,” you told him. “Can you, umm… Maybe a little faster?”
Eric obliged, pistoning his hips quicker to fuck you to your liking, and his hand floated to your pussy, his thumb gently rubbing at your throbbing little clit. You whined and scratched at his back, tightening your legs and digging your heel into that ass he had, and the electric shocks that ran up your toes and into the rest of your body started to become too good, too much. “Eric!” you gasped. “Eric, fuck!”
“I’ve got you, angel,” Eric whispered in your ear. “I’ve got you. Let me see that pretty face when you cum, yeah? Wanna feel your cunt squeeze me, fuck, I need it.”
You looked down at yourself, watching as his hard cock plunged in and out of your hole, leaving a creamy ring at the base of his cock, and your whining and whimpering almost had the wet squelch of your bodies together beat. Then, almost against your will, your whole body relaxed, every muscle feeling like it went slack, and you sobbed out your final moan, your head falling back as your nails went hard into his freckled shoulders. You felt your wet cover your inner thighs, and you panted as Eric chased his own end. You didn’t have to wait too long before you heard him choke back a moan, and he spilled himself inside the condom. You felt the warmth of his spend inside you, and he slowly pulled out of you with a hiss at the sensation on his sensitive, softening cock.
He was quick to take care of the condom, and he came back to the bed and settled in the small, empty space beside you. His red chest was heaving, his cheeks flooded with pink color, and he wrapped his arm around you and tugged you close to him. You melted into his warmth, mashing your cheek against his hard chest, and he let out a breathy laugh. “Fuck,” he gasped. “I don’t know if it’s because I haven’t eaten real food all day or what, but I’m exhausted.”
“Me too,” you giggled. “I think you were just that good.”
“Once again, angel,” Eric whispered, settling a soft kiss on your head. “You flatter me.”
You fell into a comfortable silence then, listening to each other’s breathing even out, and Eric cleared his throat after a while. “Typically, at this point,” he started. “I’d be smoking a cigarette.”
“Oh my God, Eric, no,” you groaned. “Don’t you know how unhealthy that is?”
“Oh, right,” Eric chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Miss Nurse. So concerned for my health.”
“Right,” you told him. “I care about you, and I don’t want you to have breathing complications or worse early in life from smoking.”
“I think I’ll manage,” Eric told you. “I think I need another shower after that, though.”
“You do sorta stink,” you giggled, and Eric rolled his eyes. “If you shower, I can be making food.”
“Food?” Eric asked. “There’s food?”
“Yeah, an MRE,” you told him, and you grunted as you got out of bed, going in search of the plastic-packaged meal. “Chicken and noodles. I didn’t see what yours was.”
“Fuck,” he laughed. “I’ve got a sexy woman making dinner for me? I might keep you around after all.”
“You have to keep me around,” you told him. “Who else is supposed to help you raise your cat?”
Frodo seemed to know his cue, because he revealed himself from behind a bookshelf, batting a bit of cobweb on his nose, and Eric smiled. “I suppose you’re right,” Eric said. “Just don’t feed him too much; he’ll get fat. He’ll also try to attack your hand if you pet his belly, so don’t do that either.”
“Noted,” you told him. “Go shower, handsome, this should be done by then.”
Eric took a moment to wrap his arms around you and press a kiss to your temple, and he softly said, “I wish we could have met any other way. But, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here now.”
“Me too,” you told him, turning in his arms to give him a real, genuine kiss. “I’m so glad you found me.”
#joseph quinn x reader#joseph quinn#eric aqpdo#eric aqpdo x reader#a quiet place: day one#aqpdo#joseph quinn x you#eric aqpdo x you#joe quinn
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