fuck me eyes | s. barringer
pairing : scott barringer x reader
summary : way long before you—or even scott—showed up at mount horizon, you’d known each other from some regular high school located in the middle of the northwest. he was the star wide receiver everyone was convinced would have a future in a division one league college, while you were the town’s “good girl” gone promiscuous. when you are forcibly sent to mount horizon after being undeniably hungover and high at the sunday church service, you find yourself being the center of an old acquaintance’s attention.
warnings : mentions of drug & alcohol abuse, prostitution, semi-graphic description of sexual assault & rape, swearing/vulgar language, gossip, misogyny, certain topics are not suited for all audiences so please read at your own risk or scroll past
notes : i’m leaving this as an open ended ending bc im definitely writing a part two that dives more into their blossoming relationship (which may be soon…)
your nails were still stained heartbreak red from when you had freshly painted them on a few nights ago, slightly chipped on the sides as you shiver through the cold wilderness of mount horizon high school.
being here was way out of your plans—especially when you had your hair up to god and were in your mom’s old jeans that you cut to show off your ass. stumbling in your high heels as dried leaves and twigs crunched under your weight, a woman who had introduced herself as sophie wraps you in a windbreaker jacket to keep yourself warm from the howling wind—which was also a very obvious, and what you called pathetic, attempt to cover your skimpy clothes up from the other touch starved teenage students.
this was supposed to be your new “home” for the next foreseeable future, a place where your father knew you’d finally get clean at. no cigarettes, no alcohol, and certainly no drugs. mount horizon was quite the living manifestation of hell for you. it granted you no way to numb your pain, the sole reason why you turned to abusive behaviors in the first place, forcing you to confront your emotions head on through self reflective hiking trips or group sessions led by sophie and peter. you didn’t want to talk; that was the last thing you ever want to do.
but at least it wasn’t fucking rehab.
as you were led into peter’s office, he kindly urged you to take a seat across from his desk, next to a girl around your age. she had a wide grin across her face, something you couldn’t quite believe a person could do in a place like this. “this is juliette. she’ll be your first-week buddy and will help get you settled in.” she offered a short, little wave before letting peter continue on with the rules the school implements for its students. his “sermon” was boring to say the least, finding yourself zoning out a couple of times despite how short it was.
“and with that, jules, you’re free to show our newest cliffhanger around,” watching as sophie and peter shuffle out of his office, juliette follows suit and you trail right behind her. as you tugged your unzipped jacket over your chest, the withdrawals and taste of sobriety finally hits you. you already felt exposed, and you loathed that feeling.
“cute heels!” the girl exclaimed cheerfully beside you, furrowing your brows at the sound of her shrill voice. “thanks,” you shrugged and brushed a stray strand of hair that was blowing in the wind away from your line of vision, “think i can go hiking in these?” she slightly winced and rolled her eyes at your sarcastic tone, quipping back with another comment.
eventually, you found yourself getting along with this chick as she showed you around the campus—deeming her somewhat “cool” to a certain extent and a hundred times more better than those stuck-up girls back at home.
“so, can i ask why your parents sent you here?”
“daddy thinks i have a little too much fun with the no-no pills and booze, so much so that i showed up to morning mass higher than life and wasted,” you sucked in a breath for dramatic effect, somewhat mocking yourself for how everything turned out, “try it sometime. quite the experience.”
“i bet,” juliette chokes out a laugh in amusement before letting her eyes wander over your clothing behind the overly large windbreaker sophie handed you—well, lack thereof. “and the outfit?”
“from the night before,” tittering to yourself at the memory of your whereabouts when getting around town in your old cadillac, you bit your lips to hide your teasing grin, “had lots of fun.”
however, your playfulness fades shortly after seeing a recognizable mess of blonde curls standing just a few feet away. scott barringer. before you could even divert your gaze, he somehow timed himself perfectly to meet your eyes when he turned his head north. his expression was laced with pure horror and ahock, never expecting to see a familiar face end up here with him—let alone yours.
“well look who it is,” the boy scoffed, approaching you with a smug look in his eye, “the town skank. sorry, but we have a no sex rule here—that includes prostitution.”
“very funny, scotty barringer—or should i say, all-star druggie? actually no, dopey has a nicer ring to it!”
“wait, you guys know each other?”
“unfortunately. ‘ve known mister pothead since grade school.” he shoots you an annoyed facial expression mixed with disgust at the mention of your guys’ past, “yeah, that was before our sanctimonious treasure became a slut—oh and not just any slut actually, the slut. what you do with all that mouth, huh?”
“give you somethin’ to cry about,” you pouted mockingly, inching closer to him, “how’s that football scholarship going, scotty? oh right, our greatest wide receiver was thrown off the team for getting busy being high rather than showing up to practice! feel free to kiss those college scouts ‘buh-bye.’”
“you’d know all about kissing-” he’s interrupted by auggie tugging on his shirt, “meat, cool off. jules, go ahead and get her outta here before scott does somethin’ he regrets.” juliette instantly ushered you inside into the girls dormitory, far away from his proximity.
trudging in with a sigh, she dramatically fell against the closed door with relief, “that was intense. are you guys always like that?” you shrugged, leaning your head back onto the painted plaster, “ever since the summer before our sophomore year. we got along just fine before; but, i guess after the gossip our town had spread about me, there’s no doubt that he’d heard about it. i mean, he called me a skank and basically everything in between.”
“what were they saying about you? was it really that bad?” her eyes overflowed with concern, studying your face for any crack in your resolve. there was none. “don’t worry about it, princess, don’t worry.”
the next couple of months went by like a blur down at horizon.
the cliffhangers had tried luring you out of your shell, wishing for you to open up to the group after knowing them for a while—yet you couldn’t do it. you didn’t have it in you. no one could know why you turned to destructive behaviors, why you turned to abusing pills and liquor bottles to get blackout drunk and repress yourself from the pains of reality. however, you couldn’t escape those terrors at dawn—where you’re unconscious and dreaming, like a scare creeping up on you.
the night where an older man had taken advantage of your fourteen year old self was burnt into your mind, replaying in your head like a torturous broken record even in your sleep. you had tried everything in your power to forget about the way you begged him not to with mascara-stained tears falling from your eyes, how his cold fingers tightened around your wrist when you had tried to push him away with all the strength you could summon, and how he had pinned the blame on you—manipulating everyone into thinking that you’d seduce the married man and labeling you as a homewrecking whore hidden behind the “sweetheart” facade.
everything fell apart. your present. your future. there was nothing left for you after realizing that there was no use in arguing for your innocence—about how you were taken advantage of in a dark parking lot. even your father hadn’t known the truth, you couldn’t bring yourself to go through the shame and embarrassment of confessing—so you turned to drugs and drinking for comfort, along with having sex.
you saw it as a way to reclaim your autonomy, but it never really did help. it just made you numb.
as you entered into your third month at mount horizon, not one person had ever gotten close to figuring out about your past, except peter. accidentally letting it slip in the midst of an argument about you not taking anything seriously, his eyes widened at the shocking revelation and questioned you further for more details. you had denied it at first, before curling up in a fetal position and sobbing on the floor of his office—swearing it wasn’t your fault.
so here you were now, walking outdoors to meet your father in the flesh—after three months of rust between telephones and sloppy written letters—because he finally remembered about the daughter he had sent to prison mount horizon.
“dad,” you coldly nodded at him in acknowledgment, before dropping onto the steps beside him with a glare, “fancy seeing you here.” ignoring your obvious gibe at him, he instead asked, “how’re things going on here for you?”, in his best parent voice to try and convince you that he had bothered enough to be here.
“just peachy,” rolling your eyes, you inched slightly away even when you felt a sense of guilt overcome you from your distant nature. that was until he said something that reminded you that he was still your same, ol’ dad who couldn’t care less about your emotions but rather than your reputation as his daughter, “even with the withdrawals?”
“right, ‘cause you see me as some druggie,” you scoffed, disbelief clouding your judgement. “well maybe if you weren’t sneaking out late at night to see all the boys you hang out with, you wouldn’t have been sniffing god knows what.”
“you heard me. if my daughter hadn’t been busy whoring around that night, then maybe you wouldn’t be here at horizon now suffering the consequences!” his voice was loud enough to attract attention, humiliating you right to the core, “seriously, honey—out of all the guys you could’ve chosen, it had to be a married one!”
seeing the scene play out from a distance, peter rushed over in an attempt to stop your father’s outburst in front of everyone, but he was only shoved aside by the worked up man. “mind your damn business, mister scarbrow.”
“dad, enough,” you swallowed in an attempt to steady your voice, “d’you really want to know the truth about that night? i was raped.” nature went silent at your admission, not even the wind dared to make a sound. “not what you were expecting, huh? but that’s how things really went. the pills, the booze: they were all just ways to forget the feeling of his weight on top of me as i tried to fight back, how i tried bargaining to save my dignity at fourteen. now the only way i can is by fucking random strangers to gain a sense of control i lost, even if it’s just temporary. so please, just leave before you start shoving bible verses down my throat.”
without looking back, you walked away from your father as tears welled up in your eyes from frustration. he finally knew the truth, but at what cost? not bearing the weight of it all, you fell to your knees and clutched at your chest.
you longed to scream, to cry ‘til your body went numb—but when you opened your mouth, nothing came out. with your head in your hands, you let the tears flow from your eyes as the weight of it all crashed into you like a hurricane.
hearing leaves on the trees rustle as twigs crunched beneath heavy boots, you heard and recognized the sound of someone approaching. you already knew who it was before seeing them yourself, and he came here to taunt you.
“go away, scott,” but all he did was wrap his arm around you, tucking you into his side as he comforted your heaving body. it was a foreign feeling, like crossing an unmarked territory. this was supposed to be scott barringer: someone who loathed you with every fiber of his being. so why was he here now, hesitantly—but gently—caressing your arm as you soaked his flannel?
“those were all lies. i never,” you stammered before sucking in a breath to control your voice as the tears came flooding in, “i didn’t seduce him.” he hushed you with a whisper, “i believe you, and i’m sorry for all that shit i said.” you didn’t know how to respond, but you just clutched him tighter, grounding yourself through him—and you both stayed like that for a while.
as you cried against his chest, it was as if the world tilted on its axis.
scott barringer finally saw the truth past your “honey, fuck me” eyes.
for @haydenssweetheart 🏷️ : @h4yden-skywalker
