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bloogers-boogers · 2 years ago

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Kyle Broflovski/ Eric Cartman (SP fic)

('What's up with the fatass?')

/Let me slide into your mind/ part 4

'Technically, I'm not gay if I'm testing, right?'

Slight warning ⚠️ this fic is kinda deranged and would probably (will) be outta the ordinary, wacky in a sense but also trauma? Maybe, idk could be? Mmhh..

~~~~~~~

He was stoked by the confession, couldn't even manage to bare a retort back with some snarky comment. A brief silence, a light breeze brushing their way.

He looked at Jackson's green eyes, as the sunset reflected on them. Making this all feel even more like a fever dream.

He chuckled nervously, not sure if the feeling he felt was flattery or uneasiness.

How the hell is he gonna get out of this?

On one hand, Jackson was Stewart's best friend: who is seemingly the leader; he was also a very important part of their friend group and they wouldn't bat an eye to trow him out to the gutter over Jackson.

So if he were to reject Jackson now, would that demolished all opportunity to still be friends? Would they kick him out? Would they target him again?

It's not like it's his fault that Jackson was some gaywad and was madly in love with him, but they will definitely side with nerd geek over his coolness.

On the other hand, he also sorta liked Jackson? Not in the gay way ofcourse, but he's warming up to him. Also, Jackson was the first to talk to him and even somewhat got along when he first arrived in this damn town.

He's been nice, a little hot headed but he is also kinda into that aswell, helping him with studying, oddly enough they do get along and they also share a certain type of humor aswell!

It'd be a pity if he ruined a possible great ally over some dumb crush. Besides, he's fucking rich.

And he doesn't make a big fuss over him taking over and picking what they'll watch on Netflix in his big flat tv unlike Tolkien.

He was finding it quite difficult to pick what to do, it's not like Jackson was bad looking.. not the type you'd be horrified by even the thought of holding his hand type of way. He in fact is quite attractive for a guy, no homo, but he COULD endure being in a relationship with him if it were necessary..

".. y-you can't be serious are you?" He mustered out, expecting to be contradicted and be told it was just a fucked up joke.

Jackson hold on to his hands making him eye him weirdly, his mouth flattened, "I've never been this serious in my entire life, Eric."

The way he said it made it all seem like some kdrama rom-com, his eyes landed on to his lips then back to Jackson's eyes feeling nauseous.

This was.. different.

His heartbeat pounded recklessly, as he felt his eyes squinted shut, maybe expecting something more unintentionally leaning forward.

But the entire mood was interrupted by two other obnoxious boys.

"Goddammit, took you long enough!" Stewart shouted, as he walked towards them alongside Hershey who brushed some leaves off him coming from behind a tree.

"You guys ruined the mood, assholes," Jackson groaned annoyed, rolling his eyes and letting go from one hand still latching on to the other.

"A confession shouldn't take that long," Stewart complained, as he shoved his hands inside his pants.

"Yeah, it's been like two weeks and dog park hadn't gotten the hint at all," Hershey huffed as if he was the one desperate for it to be over.

"I would've made him my bitch by now if I were you," Stewart kept on rambling, "like, it's not hard to say 'I like you, be mine' or some shit like that."

"You lack skill," Hershey joined in the mutual bashing on their friend's timing.

He felt himself small, looking at the three as they banter like if he had actually said yes to Jackson's confession, as he had no other choice but to be his—

"Wait, you said this been going on for awhile?," he mustered out confused, it wasn't long since he's got there.

"Ha, you blind fuck. I guess southies lack attention skills too? Ofcourse it was. Why would you think we'd even let you in our friend group to begin with?" Stewart commented casually but was nudged lightly from Jackson as a 'that's enough' kinda way, earning a eye roll from the redhead as a response, "you've gone soft," he mustered.

He felt like he wanted the ground to swallow him, that only means one thing. Saying 'no' will be his dismay, he'll be cast aside if he were to reject Jackson.

He bit his lip, contemplating the situation he's put in. He hangs out with Jamie but that wouldn't be enough to not be targeted, and he doubted the brunette would even care if he were.

Unlike with these assholes he felt a sense of security, a place he can run off to and shield himself from being a tp loser.

"Jackson approached you with all intention to fuck you, he saw you walking near our neighborhood while we were skateboarding looking like you were about to pass out and in his eyes you were the most—," Hershey teased deviously, before being nudged angrily by the blonde.

"Okay, guys that's enough," he blurted out embarrassed, putting his attention on his own quietness.

"He's into bigger boys," Stewart added with a wicked grin, now Jackson shoved him aside as he snickered and ruffled his blonde locks playfully.

"So you two going out now or what?," Hershey then spoke after a brief silence and some rough play from both best friends.

He couldn't help himself feel flustered, if his actual friends were there they'd bash on him for being a complete gaywad or even saying something remotely gay. Which is why he retrained himself by doing many things like; karaoke or dressing himself up and dancing with cut out celebrities he liked, makeup, tea parties or gushing over stuff animals, painting his nails and trying out his mother's heels..

Not that he's gay, but he genuinely did enjoy those things.

But these dumbasses? They don't seem to care at all.. they even expected him to act a little gay...

"Maybe.." he blurted out, startling Jackson who looked his way with sparkling eyes and blushed face.

Okay, he was kinda cute.

°°°°

So it's official, he's now dating Jackson Hu. You may ask, what're the benefits of being the blonde's boyfriend?

They're plenty, in a matter of fact. There wasn't even a single student that had said anything negative his way or any tp comments. On the contrary, he's been making a lot of new friends!

They actually approached him with all intention of wanting to befriend him and hang out. Unlike with the southies they always nagged and nagged that he was some burden they couldn't just get rid off.. and as much as that shit did kinda hurt him, he wouldn't deny he hated them aswell!

These north parkers had made him somewhat feel welcome even if they started with a rough start. They invite him to parties, games and do shit together! Yes, they were common bashing and naming, but that's just typical kids behavior.

They treated him like an actual friend than some pest. And are even very openly affectionate to each other, unlike with his old gang that type of affection was mostly excluded from him and exclusively just a 'bff' thing only the gay bitches of Stan and Kyle had, and sometimes Kenny.

Ofcourse Kenny has time in time proven to him that he does care and he doesn't mind being all open for a hug from Eric Cartman, compared to Hippie dick and Jersey jew that would immediately make an assumption that he was scheming some shit or they'll just stand awkwardly not daring to do something back.

They weren't very opened with hugs or hand holding when it came to the three, not that he couldn't say the same, by that point it was just too weird and kinda an anomaly. He felt he had a whole different thing going on between his dynamic with Stan and Kyle, contrast with Butters and Kenny.

He could be freely emotionally himself with the blondes but with the 'super best friends'? He just couldn't, it was always a hesitating thought and just searching for a opportunity to do so.

He could count the times they had hugged with all intention to do it, with his fingers.

They weren't as evenly close as he'd would like..

But the kids from North park, his now gang. They're so— chill, and cool. And never excluded anyone from giving some love, maybe because they kinda acted like hippies? Even though they claimed just being liberals or some pretentious shit like that.

He could hug Stewart who is the most jock douche of the group outta nowhere and he wouldn't even bat an eye! He'll hug him back or pat him lightly like an actual bro.

Not that he's touched starved ofcourse but..

It actually feels nice.

Other of the good perks of being Jackson's boyfriend, is that he feels more freeing on being more himself in a sense?

He can do things he'd normally think pussies would do, being reassured by his friends and boyfriend that the things he liked didn't defined his sexuality and all that lame opened minded shit.

He loved it, he also liked how Jackson looks at him, and call him by pet names.. even the pecks on his cheek before entering class or being walked home. It made him feel fuzzy and funny..

Also, being completely loaded he buys him stuff! Shoes and sometimes even dresses cause he somehow found out he liked drag!

And his friends, they are willing to try things his southie friends would call him lame for! They even gone to a karaoke and sang together.

But not only that has changed, but he's feeling a little different since his move. The town really is making him shift in to some.. he couldn't recall what, but he feels he could change for the better being.

He also noticed a huge change on his mom too!

She turned PC not long ago.. he wasn't entirely sure what started it but she did mentioned she turned a member at work and that she'd be a better mom from now on, the typical shit he's already use to hearing from her emotional outburst or when she's drunk.

But he's noticed she has kinda kept her word for it, the other day he mentioned about feeling a little insecure about his weight now that he had a boyfriend and all, she actually talked to him like them parents he'd see on TV 'tell me more, I'd like to be of help' 'you know you're perfect in every way, you don't have to change who you are for anyone' 'if he doesn't like the way you are then he isn't for you' 'I think you should try doing a diet if that makes you feel any better but you really are beautiful, poopsikins' giving him actual advice instead of running away!? Actually listening to him instead of distracting him with toys and food.

They also been getting along better and they talk more, his mom even admitted to him that she's been feeling lonely for years now and that loneliness just drove her into making him her only friend and she now realized how bad that truly is for his development. He even admitted how much it affected him to not actually have a father figure in his life, the absence and hollowness it felt everytime he saw his friends bond with their dads. And it was all just emotional and heartwarming moment between the two. A bunch of sobbing and apologetic promises that he wasn't sure they'll actually commit.

Maybe they could fix things out or maybe not? Only time will decide.

He layyed on his bed recalling his mother's words once more, feeling a tight feeling in his chest, hiding under the covers with a soft smile.

North park kinda rules.

°°°°

He was panicking, Jackson had stolen him a quick kiss on the lips. It was a small brush but he felt like he was swooning, being swooped up in the air by his strong arms as he carried him bridal style to the nursery cause he clumsily sprained his ankle in p.e class.

"How you're feeling, babe?" He asked softly, while he couldn't help but look at him dreamily.

"Good.." he mustered with a dumbfounded smile, gripping on to his shirt, butterflies popped inside his stomach. And with out further hesitation he place his hands on his cheeks and made him leaned forward, planting a passionate kiss, wrapping his arms around his neck as he felt Jackson deepening it before breaking it off.

Still inches apart, "Goddamn that was amazing.." he mustered out dumbfounded, eyeing him soft, "maybe I should carry you often if that makes you want to kiss me like that more," he admitted with a cheeky grin, nuzzling his nose against his.

"Maybe you should..?" He teasingly said, eyeing him playful before planting a small peck on his lips.

In a blink of an eye, after a couple of days

They were found making out furiously in the living room couch of his mansion. He couldn't help himself, he was feeling deluded by all of things Jackson did to him, he wanted to be touched, kissed, the pleasure it gave him when he'd grabbed his waist and pulled him closer. It was amazing.

'Technically, I'm not gay if I'm testing, right?'

He gripped on the blonde's t-shirt, making him mumbled a couple of 'mmph' before being sunk in deeper on to the couch, hearing him whisper sweet nothings to him as a voice echoed the room, snapping him out of him.

"Cartman~" Jackson kept murmuring his name against his neck, but not with his usual voice, it was..

He pushed him away with his hands against his boyfriend's chest slightly, as his eyes widen in contemplated horror.

"Kyle?"

Kyle found himself on top of him looking at him with a devilish smile, before grinning wide like a triumphant.

"AHHH!!!" He screamed like a chick that was about to get murder in some classic 90s horror movie, pushing him off from his lap as he rested his weight on his elbow still eyeing the boy.

Now vision getting clearer, as a concerned Jackson looked his way.

"Babe are you alright? Who the fuck is Kyle?" He asked, standing up; as he had fallen to the floor by being pushed so abruptly.

He panted heavily, still grasping some air as he clenched hard on to his chest, this shit is gonna give him a heart attack.

"Is this because you miss your old town? Is that it?" Jackson still continued to asked worrisome, before biting his lip as he contemplated something looking at the floor.

"Y-yeah.." he managed to mustered, still, the scare was still haunting him.

Jackson look at him with pitying eyes, "do you want.. I can give you your password, maybe that'll make you feel better? Only if you promise me you would be discreet about it?" He tried reassuring, approaching cautiously and sitting far in the other end of the couch.

"U-huh, that'd be awesome, thanks.." squinting his eyes shut and nodding fanatically, he took this as a good opportunity to talk with Kenny, he hasn't been able to contact him in so long.

He gulped hard, sweat falling drastically as if a bucket of water had been splashed on his face, now looking at Jackson's eyes, feeling himself get calmer with each passing second.

Being back home, he let out a long tiresome sigh, the episode from early still was eating him at whole, he needed to calm down or he could mess things up with Jackson.

He grabbed his laptop and typed in the password and email Jackson gave him.

And lord and behold, he was now online.

Another thing he had to do was change his number, as people there would recognized immediately the area code of South Park. Bad thing about it, is that his now friends erased all his contacts excluding his mom and family (cousin and uncle's) luckily for him, he did manage to slip out saying Butters was a cousin when he notice his friends doings.

Finally back on his old account '@ EricCart_brah' he looked for Kenny's active status, he knew by this hour he'd be back home and scrolling endlessly on his phone ignoring his parents common arguments.

Kenny Mccormick online•

He bit his lip, he knew Kenny would demand answers because he's clearly been 'ignoring' him, which is why he told Butters to calm Kenny's tits down and tell him that he was just really busy, which wasn't far from the truth. In reality he was busy, being a North Parker wasn't easy you know!

'Sup poor boy' common, not too desperate, and quick to the point.

He waited a couple of dreaded seconds, as he looked at his screen. Kenny was taking his damn sweet time to read his message, longer than usual, oh, he must really be pissed. It was definitely on purpose cause Kenny would immediately reply back to him once receiving a message while being actively online the only times he wouldn't answer back immediately was when he was doing his shifts or walking Karen home from school.

It was their best friend thing to always prioritize their messages over anyone else's, they kinda agreed on doing it out of spite because Stan and Kyle once ignored them on the group chat a couple of years ago sliding into a roblox server with out them. Fucking dicks. They still couldn't somehow let that go.

After a minute, he finally read it, but it was left on seen. He frowned, 'Goddammit, kinny,' he thought.

'Typing...'

Those three minutes were torturous coming from Kenny.

Meanwhile he waited for Kenny to stop bitchin' with him, he scrolled through his inbox, he had two unread messages from Kyle and one from Stan, ofcourse he didn't bother answering so he left them unread, they're bitches anyways, and because they were very old messages too, like a day after his move and Stan's was at 3:00 am pretty much while he was still on the road to get to North park. But there was also messages from both Clyde and Craig, these weren't entirely far apart from the day he left south park but he was curious.

'Hey, fatboy, pleaseeeee come back I beg you🙏🏼' that was pretty much it with Clyde, sometimes he wondered if that dude was okay from the head, cause damn what gives?

And Craig's was just a '🖕🏼' he rolled his eyes, hoe.

*Ding*

About fucking time.

'Took you long, u got bored of your little north dickers?'

He snickered, now HE got his sense of humor.

'C'mon, Butt's didn't gave u mah mezzage?'

'He did'

'Okay, so Y u bitchin at me?'

'What's with the new account? Embarrassed by your people, fatboy?'

'Iz da it? U worried I forgot about u?'

'Seen'

Goddammit, 'I would never, asshole 🙄 yk I've been buzy with my move'

'Why r u writing with typos? I saw u got nice grammar in ur dumb np page'

'U stalkin me?'

'Yes, what're u gonna do about it? Send me a grenade via inbox?'

"Hahahaha!" He laughed out loud by Kenny's ridiculous shit talk, how he missed that.

'Don't be an ass🤣'

'Your so dumb...'

'*you're' he couldn't help but slapped himself in the head, what was all that about? Why did he correct that shit, he's acting like the dumb jew now.

'Sure, bitch. Okay, so how's it been?' Atleast Kenny seemed to shrugged it off easily, neither did he seemed angry anymore.

'Itz been good but itz lame ass fuck, wbu anything going on over there?'

'Not really, everything seems to mellow out since ur fat ass left town'

'Aye! Stfu!'

'It's true tho, everything is as boring like when we took that hunting bunny exhibit'

'Ugggh don't remind me🥱'

'Man, when would u come visit? Or is it like a temporary thing? C'mon tell me *dick sticker*'

'Not sure tbh, just hang in there got things handled from a tea just u wait👌🏼'

'This is my new number btw (+1)***-***-**** don't give it to those assholes of Stan and Kyeeel'

Kenballz added (+1) ***-***-**** to his contacts.

'U still angry at them for the party?'

'Nah... just want to be a dick to them thatz all'

'Fair'

'Gotta go, ttyl?'

'Sure'

He sighed exhausted sliding out from Kenny's dms, looking at the hour an it was just 2 am. Maybe he should give a peek at the hippie's message?

Stan Marsh offline• 25 min ago

'Hey, Cartman. Sorry about earlier, yk me and Kyle didn't mean to actually just not give a damn about you..

I kinda really feel bad about it rn.. hope you can forgive me? Even so, I wish you luck with the move. Ik how difficult it is to adjust to the changes but Ik you'll manage better than I ever did:)'

Way to make it gay Stan, he sighed, getting off from the couch and heading to his room in a slouch. In all honesty, he really wasn't angry at them, he kinda actually expected them to act like dicks? But still, something about Kyle just pissed him off, but being angry at Stan was very hard to do. He was so emotional and for some reason he pity him for it.

Maybe that's why he had a weak heart for Stan.

He layyed down reluctantly, opening his laptop once more, might aswell look at kyel's, or curiosity will get the best of him.

Kyle Broflovski offline• 2 hrs ago

'Hey fatass'

'Fuck u then'

Well, that was short and quick. He huffed throwing his laptop to his side, covering himself with his blanket kinda pissed off and dozing off to sleep.

°°°°

"Damn, theres a lot of people in your town," He said in a 'awe' looking at the crowd of people surrounding the mayor hall.

"Our town now, fatboy," Stewart added, wrapping a arm around his neck.

He blushed, they're very welcoming and friendly to him for some reason all of a sudden. Maybe he's been doing so damn good so far, his act has already went beyond the limits of fantastic, cause it seem his tp vibes weren't as strong as when he first arrived. He smiled accomplished.

Jackson eyed him from his side with a small wink.

He beamed even harder, he felt his cheeks stiffened by how much he was smiling that day.

He wrapped his arms around Stewart's waist resting his head against him while seeing the mayor walked towards the microphone.

"It's a nice evening today for our beautiful town," He began, it was an old man probably in his mid fifties, grey hair and had one of those fancy suits on.

"Today we've managed to make a great accomplishment, being at a rate of 55% of popularity," the man beamed proudly at the crowd.

The crowd roared cheerful, he even heard his friends shout '¡fuck yeah!'

He honestly didn't quite understand about the popularity ratings that was going on between states, but he honestly cared less it wasn't his problem.

"If we keep our rating up, will be in the 90% in lesser than a month," the man fist upwards to the air, "but that's not all, we've been given news that were offered for a possible show next fall!"

Everyone gasped, and he was left confused, just arching a brow.

'Who'd want to watch a show about some dumb town?,' he couldn't help but think about how lame that was, but said nothing. His friends seemed to be stoked about the idea.

Maybe that was his southie side speaking in him.

"Now moving that aside, time for the announcement for the winner of next judge for this yearly cat costume competition!" The man exclaimed, causing some of the people watched eagerly as the mayor took out a small piece of paper from the box to announce the winner.

"And the winner for this yearly competition is— Eric cartman?"

The people gasped as they all eyed him, even he was left bewildered.

He didn't recall ever written his name in that slip.

"It's the southie" he heard a man whispered, and a couple of others murmured.

But later roared cheerfully as they boost him upwards with their hands dragging him still dumbfounded to the stage.

"Go, Eric!" He heard his boyfriend screamed from afar, as he stepped on the stage, seemingly still confused.

He smiled awkwardly as he approached the mayor.

"Seems the town picked you for the role, it was just destined to happen," The man stated before gesturing the crowd to applaud.

He gulped seeing all those people cheering for him, it really boosted his ego and pride.

All the admiration he craved is now becoming overwhelming in a matter of seconds, the fact he just doesn't know, unaware of what's not knowledgeable maybe that's why he felt that hidden unease squeezing feeling inside his stomach.

After all that, he walked down stage and was greeted once more by his boyfriend who hugged him tightly.

"Congrats, baby nuts."

"I- I really don't know how my name got there?"

"Who cares? You got such an honorable role being from Shart Park," Stewart chimed in, approaching them with Hershey by his side.

"I suppose.. but I really don't know my role or anything?"

"Don't worry about it, we'll tell you everthing you need to know for the big day," Hershey added with a grin, "btw, Jacky your parents were looking for you just now."

Jackson groaned, "no fucking way, seriously? My god.."

"What's wrong, babe?" He eyed him curiously.

"It's- it's nothing, Eric," he shrugged giving a look at Stewart.

How fucking weird, he hated being excluded from shit.

Another day ended, and by that point and on he learned that this cat festival was a honoring tradition, the competition however was just as important than the actual festival itself so it was necessary to not mess it up or his reputation will go down the line. He did wonder why the hell they'd pick him for it, but it was way too beneficial to bail out from, he also liked that he was being recognized more by his name than by the town he was born in.

He looked through his clothing finding a perfect outfit for the evening, ignoring the voices from his head, the constant whispers and the small curses against him. Kyle's voice resonated in him like a damn devil, a curse yearning to release it's dangerous magic on him.

He wasn't sure why Kyle out of all people would be the one to haunt him. Okay, now that he thinks about it, he may be certain of why.

Ofcourse Kyle would be capable of doing that! He has always been envious of his luck and awesomeness, who wouldn't want to curse him more than Kyle ever did?

'Eric~'

"Shut the fuck up, kahal!" He screamed out, covering his ears.

'C'mon, Eric don't be such a wuss'

"I'm no wuss!"

'Ofcourse you are, fat boy'

"Aye! I ain't fat you dumb jew!"

'Don't belittle my people, fatass!'

"So stop using your dumb magic on me, and leave me alone!"

'Never, you're a traitor. A imposter'

"What're you talking about?""

'You really think these north pussies give a fuck about you? You're just a southie for them-'

"That's not true I'm changing!"

'No, you can never change. You got it in your blood, Eric. You'll be for ever be a bigoted south park faggot–'

"¡Shut up!" He hissed out, everything went silent and he no longer heard Kyle, "¡shut the fuck up!" He kept on whining while squinting his eyes shut, trying to shut all the demons out, falling on his knees now gripping on to his hair.

It was night time, meaning the beginning of the festival has now started, Jackson picked him up walking from hand to hand to the center of town. He visualize all the cute cats everywhere. He couldn't help but feel a pit in his stomach thinking about Mr kitty.

He still can't believe his mother forgot to bring Mr kitty! But he shouldn't have trust her knowing damn well she took some crack beforehand.

His cat would've been the cutest among all, sadly she would not be able to participate in such wonderful event.

'Maybe if you actually stayed in south park instead of moving your ass over here. You wouldn't be struggling about your cat, fatass'

"Quit it, Kahal! Not now" he hissed in a whisper as he side eyed his boyfriend who was seemingly distracted by some decorations.

Ofcourse Kyle wouldn't let him enjoy his night, his gonna follow him until he fucks up something.

'Don't blame me, this place sucks ass'

"It does not!"

'It does too'

"Nuh-uh!"

"Eric, are you alright?" Jackson snapped him out of it, now looking at his direction.

"Yeah baby, ofcourse I am!" He exclaimed nervously, "how about you show me those kitten mittens you told me about the other day?"

"Oh! Fuck yeah, dude!" Jackson beamed excited, before dragging him to somewhere else.

'How rude, bluntly ignores my presence'

"Shut up, Kahal. I don't want him to hear you!"

'Mhm, I don't see why you're so damn in to him, I'm soooo much interesting than him and you don't seem to like me like that?'

"Cause you're a stupid jew, that's why!"

'So you admit you're a gaywad?'

"Fuck off, dude." He shoved away with his free hand next to his face, as he were capable to shoo Kyle's annoying voice from him.

"Ms Ellen has always had the best of mittens," Jackson spoke, approaching a small stand letting go now from his hand as he gestured all the colorful mittens.

'*cough* gay *cough* *cough* what a gaywad'

"Tsch, quiet!" He sneered in a whisper, before continuously to eye Jackson in an awe.

He's so cute, he felt his eyelids fall slightly feeling that fuzzy feeling once more in his stomach. Now he wondered how he scored such a wonderful boyfriend with zero efforts!

'Stop looking at him like that, your eyes are gonna fall'

"Don't tell me what to do, Kyel," he mustered out while smiling dumbly, seeing how Jackson seemingly spoke as his blonde locks move in such a memorizing slow way.

'I'll give it two weeks max'

He heard that last bit but decided to ignore it, he is planning to enjoy his night with Jackson and succeed as a great judge.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly, he and Jackson had played many of the games there. It was just the two of them that night as both Hershey and Stewart we're doing their own thing with their girlfriends, so it'd made sense for he and Jackson to do the same.

"You know.. I'm glad you're here," Jackson said out of the blue, grabbing his attention.

"Yeah? Why?" He asked munching on a corndog.

"Well, normally I'd be alone in these type of things cause those assholes are always latching like slugs to their girlfriends and shit," he said, obviously referring to the guys, smirking slyly, "now I can do the same with out feeling envious of their own love life, let's be slugs together, baby nuts"

His heart skipped a beat, he smiled warmly.

Jackson approached him, a step forward planting a kiss on his cheek he instinctively closed his eyes not wanting for it to end.

'Dumbass, he doesn't like you. He likes that he's no longer the only gay one in town'

He frowned, as he opened his eyes once more softening seeing Jackson look his way in such a lovingly way.

He hold on to his hand, "don't worry, baby. I love you," he reassured more to himself than to his boyfriend.

Ofcourse he loves Jackson, why else would he feel this immense feeling inside his chest. He's a great friend not that he 'like-like' him like that, he's just so awesome and amazing to ignore, he stands up in the crowd, he's different.

'You're confused. You don't like him, you like feeling praised'

He moved his head frantically, dragging Jackson by the arm leading him to the apple bucket game where men surrounded it cheering for the next loser to grab a red apple among the greens while blindfolded.

'You can run all you want, but you know I'm right, fatass'

"We should try it out," he ignored the echoing voice against his ears.

"Sure, did I ever mentioned you I was stated 1st place state champion of apple bobbing?"

"Really?" He looked at him surprised, Jackson winked at him placing himself in line.

'Gay'

He scoffed, "grow up, Kahal. It's sooo 80s of you to be so close minded," commenting that as he stood next to Jackson sharing him a toothy smile.

'Ugh, you two gross me out'

'Why don't you set the bucket on fire? Wouldn't it be fun if you put gasoline inside and let the next player get it? Hahaha!'

He shook his head, "no, kahal, that's awful," whispering annoyed.

'You use to do it all the time with Butters and Kenny. What's the big deal now? Afraid your pussie friends can't deal with some actual fun?'

He gritted his teeth, clenching his free hand, eyeing the next player who was a blonde girl with two big ponytails.

'Dude, wouldn't it be awesome if we do one destiny final on her? Her hair is perfect to get-'

"No, it wouldn't be 'awsome', get over it" he stated still looking at the crowd.

'Man, what's happened to you'

He bit his lip to that, in all honesty he really thought it'd be funny to see the blonde chick be dragged by a horse because her hair was tangled and tied up on it's leash.

But that wasn't a North park way to think.

'But you're not from north park'

"Tsch, what did I tell you about reading my mind Kyel!," he blurted out, flinching once he noticed he screamed too loud causing a few people to look at him weird and Jackson to eye him carefully, "you're invading my privacy," he murmured in between teeth

'You do it all the time! Don't be such an hypocrite. You don't even know what personal space is'

"I feel like I've already said this many times, but are you alright, babe? You're acting like a little pyscho."

'Cause he is. Are you blind?'

"I'm fine, babe. Just ignore it." He shrugged now getting ready to play next.

"Ignore what?"

The game went on an he managed to witness the competitive spirit Jackson had, he was rabid to win a stubbornness no one can wear him off from, ruthless almost murderous over some dumb apples noneless!

'Pst, you never seem to care when I do it?'

"Shut up, kahal. It's different, my baby is gonna get hurt," he looked at the bloody looking hound who was glaring daggers at some big chunk of a man with a cool looking beard holding on to a couple of apples in his mouth, probably five.

No longer had their blindfolds on as they circled around each other as if they were about to go in combat. Jackson had three apples, making his cheeks look all puffed up like a angry squirrel. He would laugh by the adorable display but there were other more important matters in hands.

"Hon, why don't we just truce this and-?"

Everyone gasped, going all silent, before the beard dude spit out the apples from his mouth in a bursting laugh.

"Hahahahah! Awe, how cute. Oh southies and their stupidity, your tp boyfriend is such a loser! Ofcourse, you should definitely listen and be the typical whipped ass licking moron you are and ask for a small cease-fire?"

Jackson eyed the man up and down in a threatening manner silently warning him

"South- Park- ies" The man tilted his head with each pronouncing words, grinning confidently.

"Oooohhhh" everyone blurted out in a shared shocking response, as it was indeed a low blow to be called a south parker, a disgusting insult that's worse than being thrown actual feces in someone's face.

Jackson spit the apples he had out of his mouth and straight up lounge himself towards the man.

"TAKE THAT BACK!" Screamed back, punching and yanking the man's beard off.

"Goddamn," he whispered in disbelief.

'Guess your boyfriend is also kinda a little cookoo himself'

He watched bewildered by the intensity of the street fight being unfold, as people cheered like wild animals. He even notice his other friends were already there in the pile of people cheering Jackson on.

This reminded him of the time when Kyle force him to ride a bull for some dumb Terrance and Phillip dolls, he was damn determined to win them he didn't even care that he was a vietnamese prostitute for the temporary being signing him up for the bull ride contest not caring he was drop off by Leonardo dicaprio the next day from who knows what of a night.

That was some immense determinant stubbornness and a whole lot of obsessive competitive spirit.

'In my defense, I really wanted those dolls and you wasted all the damn money'

"Whatever, Kahal," He whispered with not much enthusiasm, looking at the blonde boy smirking confidently as he stood up like he had won some boxing match.

Jackson approached him smiling warming, placing a small kiss on his lips.

"Told you I was number one champion."

'I don't think that's how you play bobbing apples'

"Sorry he call you that, baby," he added lastly before hugging him 'comforting'.

'What's there to be sorry about? You are from South park'

He corresponded back, "thanks, babe," reassuring with a small hum, smiling lightly.

'Stop acting like you aren't, asshole'

°°°°

Being judge wasn't the difficult part is was the people who'd glare menacingly, who'd watch carefully and cautious as other competitors would look like pray, atleast those that seem so gullible that'll easily cease on losing which was rare cause north park; the ones from blood, conceived from the womb of a north park mother will never bail out until they give their last breathe those that were from other states however would budge in one or a couple of rounds depending on how far long they've lived in the town. Yes, rounds.

What he figured out about this whole cat costume competition wasn't exactly just cute kitties dress up in fancy wears, it was a matter of actual BATTLE. They'd prepare themselves in a cage putting two people in and place their cats on a rounded chair. Waiting to be judge as they place themselves in middle of both cats, rules were simple:

1. First cat to jump off the chair will guarantee the owner making the fist move starting first round.

Only thing that wasn't allowed was weapons (guns, knives, swords, grenades, wires, types of acids, any sort of dust powder and flame throwers).

He wasn't sure exactly why the last weapon was needed to be specified with red ink, but he was a man who didn't question much.

Pretty much anything else is valid, so you're basically on your own once you're in the cage.

2. First player who accidentally hurts or (kill) the felines in anyway while being on the cage are disqualified immediately making the other competitor pass to the next round.

Being so damn fucking grateful he didn't bring Mr kitty to this whole thing after all was an understatement.

3. No sex inside the cage (one boner and you're out).

Now that was a rule he wondered why was needed to be added, but Hershey had told him it was because sometimes the tension between the two competitors will turn them up and makeout mid-battle.

This is why Jackson also told him he wasn't gonna let him compete as a player, he wasn't risking his boyfriend on 'falling' for some other dude. Kinda toxic, but he kinda like the possessive attitude.

4. Each meow counts as a double point, so you're current points would be sum together (the cat must be your feline for it to add up).

5. Each round is about 15 minutes (if dragged).

6. They're only 6 rounds per fight.

7. If referee catches you purposely making your feline meow you're disqualified and would be punished being excluded for the next year's competition.

8. Every aim on the gut, calves and armpit is 15 points (must be with a fist punch/ grab or finger thruster it would not count otherwise).

9. Bruises are also counted (1 point), in other cases: any teeth yanked off counts as 4.

Eyes (not preferable) 3 points.

Fingers (please don't) 6 points.

And any limbs (again, mayor Paul Theo won't pay for your hospital bills. Cautious.) 10 points.

10. You must sign the term and conditions agreeing you're aware of all the dangers you're putting yourself in and would not ask for legal action if you're severely injured (don't be a pussy), before festival date. The signature is obligatory or you will not be allowed to participate.

11. Once sixth round is over you must have atleast over 120 points gather up for the win. If both competitors have over that limited amount the competitor who has the highest count is declared winner.

However, if both competitors haven't pass the limit, they're both disqualified and will be called: tied losers until next year. (No one likes a tie you damn finger teaser).

In worse cases, a deceased competitor mid play would immediately disqualify you. If the competitor passes away after the ending round however, is automatic victory.

Eleven being the last rule, made him winced a little worrisome. This wasn't like the cow chase tournament they had in south park. This was beyond that.

What he did point out is that north parkers are VERY and when he says VERY, like goddamn! they're competitive. They don't like losing.

He bit his lip nervously as he was gesture to take a high up seat, sitting while seeing the crowd of people fill up empty seats.

Judge main attribute is to watch and declare winners, also having to count individually each players points, added his own judgment by rating each cat outfit which is important for the final counting.

He had the power to make a competitor lose if he felt like not giving a high score to their cat. Just like the power to make someone win even with a lower point count, he has unlimited points to give. And if he really dislikes the outfit he can take away max 15 points from a competitor.

So yeah, that was pretty sweet.

'You're already feeling yourself aren't you, fatass?'

"just a little... but could you blame me? Everyone is totally boned by the thought of overpowering someone, and I just have the opportunity to overpower anyone."

'That's more like it.. but don't over do it, lardass.'

"Jesus, can you give me a break already?"

'Not until you're back in South park; your real home with your real friends. We're I can keep an eye on you up closer.'

He rolled his eyes not bothering in answering back, spotting Jackson with the gang seating in some seats. Jackson spotted him right away and blew him a kiss. Which he subconsciously grabbed and blew another one back.

'God, you're so gay.'

The tournament began and everyone was riled up, it was a total massacre in and out of the cage, he was lucky being at top of it all. Seeing how aggressive the crowd of viewers were, he even notice his friends joined in the bashing. Unlike the competitors the audience could and can throw shit in, some tried aiming their gun to the competitor they hated the most others just shaked the cage in a rabid manner and some threw rocks with poor aiming.

It was quite a sight, a whole different display than what he was given firstly of the town.

"Wow," he said in an 'awe' admiring the chaos.

'Please, this would never get at a South park level'.

"C'mon, you can't tell me this isn't skewl?"

'Not even the slightest.'

"You're just saying that cause you're jealous."

'Sure~ being jealous over some people attempting to kill each other in a cage is so– exciting. If I wanted to watch that shit I could just see MMA for women on tv.'

"Okay you snarky jew, I get it, fuck. Nothing pleases you."

'I'm just stating facts, nothing beats south park.'

He grunted, reluctantly watching the whole tournament unfold, and eventually get to its end.

He was almost thrown a bucket of literal shit on because for the people's eyes his judgment wasn't going their way, not pleased by his choices. For his luck he had Jackson by his side during his performance, preventing any damages his way. Which he thought it was very warming and protective of him.

"You should give Eon a 10 pointer it'll definitely hit the rail for Jennebie," Jackson whispered in his ear, he could feel his malicious smirk against it.

So he followed through and did just that.

"Also hit Merry with a 5 pointer and let Harry have it with a 3," he continued almost in a sultry manner.

He looked his way, and sure enough it seem Jackson was turned on by pissing people off; he had dilated pupils and he was bitting his lip, moving back and forth frantically.

'He's literally manipulating you under your damn nose aren't you gonna do anything about it?'

He denied with his head not listening to Kyle and continued following his boyfriend instructions. It's not like he's whipped but he didn't mind pleasing him in some way.

He felt Jackson's hands slid next to his arms rubbing them lightly as he rested his head on his shoulder, sighing.

"Eric did I tell you how hot you look today?" He mustered nuzzling his nose against his neck warmly, "you drive me crazy."

He felt himself melt into Jackson's words, smiling dumbly as he saw how the competitors reacted by their scoring, feeling soothe by his touch and soft hair against his cheek.

He hummed as an answer, dazzlingly eyeing the crowd infront of him not caring much of the insults being sent his way.

"Mom, do you think I'm ready to have sex?" He asked his mother, now being back home.

His mom looked his way from the small kitchen practically part of the living room.

She moved her mouth as she was trying to articulate some words, seemingly startled, "uhhm.. well, I'm not sure poopsikins, do you feel ready?"

"I'm not sure either, but all my friends have done it," he shrugged not seemingly sure himself, "when was your first time?"

"Oof.." she exclaimed almost incredulous of how far that was, pouting her lips in thought, "probably when I was your age now that I think about."

"Wow. So does that mean I'm already late?"

"Ofcourse not sweetums," she chuckled, while smiling, "it's takes the right person at the right time."

"Did you do it with the right person, ma?" He asked genuinely curious.

"I did it with the coach of our volleyball team."

"Aye! That doesn't seem very ethical at all!"

"Technically I was learning something new, hon," she tried justifying herself with a light nervous tone to it, "anyways– why do you ask? Is that boyfriend of yours already wanting to escalate towards higher grounds?"

"Well.. not exactly, but it seemed like it!" He admitted, almost exasperated by the whole previous ordeal, "he seemed like he wanted something, he just.. didn't have the balls to tell me.

Even though it was obvious he was trying to hide it from me and he was all touchy too."

"Hmmm.." she looked at the ceiling, thinking carefully, "well it does seems quite suspicious, but you shouldn't get to that type of conclusions yet."

"Why?"

"Because then he'll think you're desperate."

"Really!?" He exclaimed almost nervously, eyes widen by the possibility.

He went to his room after eating dinner and briefly remembering the underwear gnome he and Stan hid in a cooler from a previous episode of theirs while he made an extra sandwich cause he was starving to death and the diet he had set himself off with wasn't it for him. Worrisome of looking like a desperate horny dog to Jackson, that was far what he wanted to give.

He layyed down sighing exhausted, remembering the passionate kisses Jackson gave him before entering his building, backing him against a wall and making out for a couple of minutes before reluctantly drifting ways.

He bit his lip just thinking the possibility of Jackson wanting more than just kisses, gulping nervously as he lightly yanked the collar of his shirt feeling a immense tightness around his neck, sucking in some air.

He took out his phone and texted Butters about his other worry that has also been eating him alive all day. The previous event made him realize how much he missed his little feline friend.

Butters (+1 ***-***-****) 📞

[Inbox✉]

'Butters, make sure Mr. Kitty is well fed or I'll hunt you down and chop you into bits you hear me!'

'No need to worry about it, Eric👌🏼

I'm already making sure your furr baby is alright'

'Please don't call it a furr baby, dude. That's gay as fuck'

'Butters?' He reluctantly added.

'Yeah?'

'If I we're to never come back.. would you miss me?'

'Why golly, Eric. Ofcourse I will, we're best pals!'

'I fell like you're bullshittin me rn just to make me feel better'

'Are you feeling under the weather again?'

He pinch himself, Butters could right outta the bat tell when somethings bothering him even through text.

'Maybe..'

'Do you know if any of the guys have been.. not that I care or anything! But, do they seem to miss me or something?'

'Typing..'

Butters kept writing but it seemed he stopped a couple of times before continuing writing again as if he was contemplating his reply and erasing it back and forth.

Finally after like a minute, he sent a bible looking message.

'This is what I've seen so FAR, it's not accurate so please don't take it as seriously, alright?:)

I've seen Stan and Kyle being the ones least affected by your absence, ofcourse that was just the first few days.

Stan seems to be taking it all pretty lightly but I do see him getting bored easily and shoving his face in junk food all day (probably not you related) but still, it's kinda unlike him yk.

Kyle on the other hand.. well, yk how pissy he gets. It's kinda hard to tell what's in his mind when all he shows is anger. But he does seem to be in denial of you actually staying in north park for too long, he thinks you're scheming something (Which isn't entirely untrue but he doesn't know that) and you already knew that.

Kenny, I already told you. He wasn't taking it well, but he's gotten better since your last call.

And well, to summarize it all, it does seem to put affect in some way for them. So I do think they miss you, Eric.

You guys don't really have the best way in showing it'

'That's useless dunk garbage, I could've guess that myself, dumbass.

But thanks.. I guess'

'Anytime n.n'

'Eric.'

'What?'

'What the hell is dunk garbage suppose to mean?'

He sighed, placing his phone in his lamp stand, covering himself in his covers.

'Are you finally gonna admit you're homesick, dickface?'

"Fuck you, I am not," huffing annoyed, he tossed himself to his other side, "I just miss Mr kitty that's all."

'Mhm, sure, Cartman'

"Tee hee~ tee hee hee~" he heard from the end of his bed, he snapped back up in shock, glancing at that little well familiar devil.

'Oh great'

"The fuck!? I thought I had got rid of you already!"

"Tee hee~ is this how you welcome your little bundle of joy after years of not seeing each other?"

"Fuck you, dude! I don't want nothing to do with you anymore. I'm not a little kid anymore, this is totally lame now," he hissed hiding half his face under the covers, feeling frustratingly embarrassed, "so uncool.."

"So you rather replace me for a gay inner monologue of your gay little friend?" Cupid sneered, approaching him.

'Fuck you, asshole!'

"Up yours, Kyle!" The little creature snap back almost bitterly, now changing his tone to a sweeter one, "Eric we use to be the best of friends! Setting people up with their true love it was so much fun!"

"Yeah, but acting like cupid is a 2016 thing, get over it already. It's sooo totally lame."

Cupid me sighed in disbelief and disapproval, "preteens I swear~" he rolled his eyes annoyed before continuing, "look, Eric. I'm here not exactly to set anyone up.

I'm here to make you realize the real you tee hee~"

"The real me?"

"Uhuh," he nodded beaming wide, "you're so in denial of your true feelings I'm starting to feel pity over you~" he swirled around in circles playfully.

"Aye!"

"But don't worry! That's why I'm here! To open your eyes~"

"To what?"

"Being in love with Jackson ofcourse! Tee hee hee~!"

"WHAT!? NUH-UH! you're bullshittin me right now! I don't like Jackson, I just think he's neat and cool!"

"That's being a complete gayway, cupcake~"

'I must admit just this once that the ugly goblin has a point'

He heard cupid me huffed by the name, but he couldn't give a rats ass about it, "Shut the fuck up, Kahal! And shut the fuck up cupid me! I DO NOT like Jackson!"

"Yes you do~"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Yuh-huh~"

"NO!" Panic began rising in him, shoving harshly the little creature to the wall running inside his closet with his hands covering his ears closing the door with a loud slam.

'Sweet, can you do that again?' He heard Kyle say referring about how he had shoved cupid me in a furious attempt to get him away.

He ignored him once more, squinting his eyes shut dismissively shaking his head frantically. Hearing cupid me rise above with angry noises and the flapping of his wings echoing the room in a loud attempt to threatened him.

"That does it, Eric," Cupid me spoke tirelessly behind the door, his sweet tone long gone replacing for a more menacingly one, "I've been very nice and have forgiven you countless times of how you've mistreated me!

Now come out of the closet right now, were gonna speak like real men!" He slammed harshly the door attempting to turn the handle but his little hands couldn't grasp it entirely making it almost impossible.

"No! Leave me alone!"

'C'mon cupid me, leave him alone already. You can't force it either' he heard Kyle try to reason with it in his defense, but Cupid me was way stubborn to let things slide easily.

"Shut up, Kyle, I don't want to hear anymore of those gay little speeches of yours! This is between me and him," Cupid me kept on slamming the door, even trying to budge in with his body, "come outta the closet right now, Eric!

You can't hide yourself in there forever."

"Just you watch!" He cried out, feeling tears fall down his cheeks, sucking harshly some air. He's never felt this scared in his life, feeling how small and suffocating the small space being, sobbing and holding himself for dear life as he hugged his legs hiding his face.

There was a immediate silence, he wanted to take a peek and make sure cupid me was long gone, but he stopped before placing his hand on the door.

'Don't be stupid. He could be acting like he isn't there to make you come out, he isn't called a creepy little shit for no reason'

He nodded, gulping nervously, as Kyle was indeed right. Cupid me wasn't to be mess with, he was calculated, cunning and coldly accurate, he knew his ways to get him, and he hated having let that little shit capable of making him feel this vulnerable.

He rocked himself back and forth in attempt to calm his nerves, but it didn't help in the slightest.

'Breathe, asswipe, you don't want to pass out either'

He squinted his eyes even harder, sucking in some air and letting it out, in and out.

'1–

Breathe in, exhale..

3– '

His breathing began to take a slower pace, Kyle's voice soothed him like no other but he was immediately tense back up by the sounds of a chainsaw.

Oh god, no.

He trembled trying to back further away but there was no more end to it. He looked fearsome at the door being torn apart and a crazy cupid me smirking menacingly poke inside.

"Oh, Eric~ come out from the closet, dear~" he sang, finally demolishing the door to it's entirety.

Cupid me gripped him from his shirt yanking him out and with a loud thump he shoved him to the floor, he whimpered trying to reach his bed and try shielding himself under it but Cupid me dragged him by the legs. Sobbing uncontrollably he was left no choice but to look into his eyes.

"Eric, I'm not trying to hurt you.. but you have to listen to me. You're in love with Jackson."

And with that, cupid me pointed a arrow at him, "this is for your own good, be happy and be as gay as you can possibly be tee hee~!" Finally releasing the arrow and knocking him out dead with a hit.

°°°°

He gasped wide awake, looking at his sweaty hands and seemingly back in bed. He looked around and cupid me was no longer in sight.

'Morning gay bitch'

Just Kyle, but that wasn't anything new for him.

He sighed feeling slightly better, "Morning.."

'Sleep well, fatass?'

"Slept like ass, but I do feel slightly better," and with that, he got out of bed and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

He had noticed it seemed to be quite earlier than usual his mother was still in bed, so he quietly walked passed her room to not disturb her.

Since when has that ever matter to him?

He made himself breakfast not bothering on waking up his mother, and soon after headed outside to meet up with his friends. They had agreed on hanging out for today at the skaters park.

Waving hello as he saw both Hershey and Stewart already sitting in some stairs waiting for the remaining members.

"Morning!"

"What's got you all smile and rainbows?" Stewart asked with a smile, arching a brow confused.

"Nothing, I just feel good you know," he shrugged, sitting in the spot next to him.

"You did a great job as judge, dog park," Hershey added, now sitting with his legs cross infront of them, mindlessly sliding his board from side to side.

"Thanks."

After a few minutes of chit chatting Jackson had finally arrived, eyes widen in surprise as he notice him, planting a kiss right away on his lips.

"Morning, baby nuts. Didn't think you'd be here this early," he gave a hand five to Stewart and a peace sign to Hershey before sitting down, "normally you're the last to arrive."

"I thought you'd be happier to see me~" he teased with a smirk.

"I'm always happy to see you."

His heart skipped a few beat smiling wide and his face felt heated.

"Damn, motherfuckers. Get a room," Stewart added with not much malice into it, taking out a small bag from his pocket of his baggy ass black pants.

"What the fuck is that?" He asked, curiously eyeing what it seems to be a couple of joints.

"Never tried a joint before, fatboy?"

He denied, he thought those shit were for pussies; poor people like Kenny and hippies, definitely for hippies. Goddamn how he hated hippies.

"Damn why didn't you say so!" He exclaimed baffled, his other two friends also looked distraught his way, "here," he passed him a joint but he hesitantly look at it.

There wasn't anything relatively good in those things, he's only gotten bad experiences just being near them. Being his mother a crackhead herself or seeing Kenny get himself high with paint for substituting it; even if he had countless times told him he should just stick with the joints instead of huffing paint like some crazy junkie. He also witnessed dumb highschoolers making themselves look like cringe looking fools being all high and shit promising himself he'll never be like them.

"What? Scared?" Stewart asked, taunting moving the joint in hand with a sly smirk.

And Jackson eyed him with a intense look, interest peeking his way.

'Don't do it, asshole'

He snatched that joint quicker than dashing off in a hurry when he hear the microwave announce with a beep that his hotpocket was ready.

Huffing a deep bunch, coughing loudly as it hit his throat awfully while his friends laughed by the first attempt.

"Killer.." he mustered out, feeling how the substance was already hitting him bad.

He was starting to feel a lot lighter since, also losing appetite and replacing his food with joints. Luckily his mother seem to not mind it much, as she view it being a phase of his now that's he's hitting adolescent anytime soon.

He layyed down, puffing some more of the weed given, turning on the tv lazily.

He laughed incredulous at the big companies that claim being precautious of the environment and safety of the children.

And he bashed on people who show any ounce of hatred towards animals.

Who do they think they are? This world is supposed to be freedom, we're all animals living in the same globe managed and ruled by arrogant men who play god.

Who can say who's to command the world? Just cause they speak and are highly intelligent than most animals there.

Someone should do something about it, go against this corrupted government and protest for the right of change and liberty.

He huffed another hit, before resting deeply his head against a cushion and doing absolutely nothing about it taking out his phone and putting on so music to avoid any mindless thinking.

His eyes widen in realization, "MOOOOOOOM," he screamed out loud in a scare.

°°°°

"Ah, I see," the doctor hummed, as he eyed his eyes with a small flashlight, "you're developing pussie-itis." He concluded.

"Oh my," he heard his mother gasped in surprise.

"What's that?" He asked confused.

"It only occurs to outsiders," he explained, placing back his flashlight in his coat, "it's a condition that could lead to severe head trauma being cause by being homesick or being expose for too long on a diffrent environment far different from your previous living."

"Nuh-uh! I'm not home sick!"

"This is serious, you could turn into a giant pussy."

He gasped by the revelation, covering his mouth.

"Is there any way to prevent that happening, doctor?," his mother asked concerning.

"Well, I could prescribe some medicine. But that still can't guarantee some changes in your son, Ms Cartman."

Being prescribe meds was super lame, but he had no choice into taking them.

However after a few days he got tired and decided to skip a few times and lastly shoving the pills inside a drawer completely forgetting about them as he venture with his friends doing whatever crappy shit hit their way.

Prev —

#south park #eric cartman #kyle brovlofski #stan marsh #kenny mccormick #kyman #sp kyman #'what's up with the fatass?' fic #my small headcanon is that once Cartman grows older #he develops this voice monolog being Kyle #kyle is his voice of reason but he is also his inner demon #this is also his way to somehow blame his actions to Kyle instead of himself #also wanted to add that in post covid Cartman had turn jewish so i thought it'd be funny if #now that he's outta south park he'd also turn into a hippie another thing he claimed to hate #i thought it'd be funny af #btw if its not made clear by this point Cartman's brainwashed! just like when Kenny was brainwashed by purity rings #you wouldn't be bffs if you atleast once haven't been brainwashed by being put in a cultural approval environment :D✌🏼

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lovebugism · 6 months ago

Text

✶ ┄ 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.

#published by bug #eric a quiet place day one x reader #eric a quiet place day one #eric a quiet place x reader #eric a quiet place x you #eric x reader #eric x you #eddie munson smut #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn smut #eric aqpdo #eric aqpdo x reader #a quiet place day one #misc oneshots

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