#feels pathetic but we Just wanna be over it

[darlingshane]

plateau

Jack Harper x F!Reader

Summary: Your relationship with Jack has reached a point where it feels like it's going nowhere. You're not sure what to do anymore to break through that wall he's put up. On a bad day, you decide just to give up altogether. If he's not willing to make an effort so aren't you.

CW: SPOILERS, heavy angst, drama, mention of child neglect, mention of harassment, mention of past relationships, snap judgments, smoking, heartbreak, but HOPEFUL ENDING, I swear.

LONG A/N: Yeah, you've read it right. I wrote a fic for Jack before the show comes out. I think I have enough insight from the book and the details I've found about the show to mix and match a story for him.

I kept some things from the book that are going to change in the show like Jack's niece. She's younger and has a different name in the book that I liked better, so I went with that version instead. Everyone is a little shitty on this story, including reader and Jack, which is on par with the book. And this is written in a similar way the book is. The first half is from reader's pov, and the other half from Jack's pov.

Word Count: 4,1k

— Links: AO3 // Masterlist

It's dark, windy, downright pouring like hell when you head out the door after clocking out of the inn you work at.

Opening your umbrella, you walk against the wind towards the corner that leads to the parking lot. A car passes by fast on your side, driving carelessly over a big puddle that splashes your legs. You turn back and flip him off, but the car is too far gone to see you.

When you bend the corner, you glance around to find his car. It's hidden behind an SUV, and you don't see it until two beams of headlights flash at you twice.

You rush in that direction, trying to avoid getting soaked, but it's impossible. By the time you reach the passenger door, the wind has made sure to push as much water as it could in your direction,

Drenched head to toe, you close the umbrella and climb into the car, yanking the door close as hard as you can.

“Fuck.” You toss the umbrella to the backseat.

“Good evening to you too, sweetheart,” he scoffs behind the wheel.

“Sorry. Just one of these days, you know?”

“Anything I can do?” Jack extends a hand to caress your cold neck. His palm is warm against your skin, collecting the raindrops that fell on you.

“Just take me home. I can't do this right now.”

“Are you sure?”

Without answering, you open Jack's glove box and find that pack of smokes he keeps at the back. He's tried to quit many times but keeps this one here from when the urge arises. You're not a smoker per se, but today you could really use one to calm yourself.

You stick one cigarette between your lips and reach out to the inside pocket of the jacket he's wearing to find a silver zippo lighter.

“Help yourself.”

Lighting it up, you take a long drag and hang your head back against the headrest, letting the smoke intoxicate your lungs before expelling it through your lips.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No. Not really.” You offer him a puff, and he hesitates for a second before picking the cigarette between your fingers.

“Why not?”

“Cause I don't wanna burden you. Besides, this works better if we don't talk, right? That's what you said.”

“I didn't mean it like that.” He passes the cigarette back to you.

“It's fine, Jack. Just drive.”

He tilts his head to the side, staring ahead at the mass of water pelting on the windshield with rage. The sky is violently struck by a massive lightning bolt, outlining in a blue electric shade the mountains that paint the landscape of Dahlonega.

You're sure he wants to protest or even explain what he meant, but he never does. Everything just hangs in the air between you two as usual. It's what you've come to know about Jack Harper. This is transactional for both, an escape from your miserable lives. But right now, this feels just as pathetic. You hate hiding like this, like you're a hooker he has to take to some clandestine dark nook around town to do unspeakable things. He's been divorced for two years and is still afraid of showing you around town, so people don't come to any assumptions. And you hate that. There was a time when you'd find yourself thinking this could become real some day. But it never comes. Your relationship has reached a plateau and if he's not willing to move up higher, then you'd have to move on without him… Eventually. There are things in your life that are keeping you from making that leap. Right now, being in this fixed place feels somewhat safe, even if it isn't where you want to be. Spending time with him, however that looks or means, is better than nothing.

Despite all that, you have bigger problems in your life than Jack being a dormant lover. One of them being your ex constantly harassing you to no end. Mostly via phone. But today he reached a new level of psycho when he showed up in the middle of your shift to ask you for money. He put you in a very difficult situation where you had to give him what you had in your wallet in exchange for him not making a scene. He also threatened you with plastering the building you work at with compromising photos he took of you when you were together. It was probably a mistake to bend up so easily to his extortion antics. You know that this would serve as precedent for him to do the same bit again. And you can't afford that.

Jack has made it clear before that he's not looking for that kind of relationship where you can freely confide in the other. He knows your ex is an asshole, but he has no idea to what degree. And right now, you wish you could tell him, cause you're running out of ideas to keep that fucking dumbass away.

The car veers through the streets, carefully moving under the unwavering storm. The old wipers whine against the glass, exerting themselves to keep the view unobstructed. Inside the car, there's nothing but a heavy silence, broken only by the thunderous roar of the rainstorm. On a night like this, you'd usually drive to your spot in the woods behind the train station or go to that motel in Gainesville if you can, it's always worth the drive. But tonight he's taking you home and doesn't press further on why you've chosen that. Sometimes you wish you could just yell at him, tell him you're drowning, and you're sick of him treating you like garbage, but you won't. Instead, a knot forms in your throat, bottling up all those words that are making your body hurt inside and out. You don't expect him to magically cure any of your imaginary ailments. You just want him to be willing to listen sometimes. That's all you need.

“You could come in, you know? Maybe stay the night?” you suggest when the car pulls up in front of your place, situated in the middle of a row of townhouses that look identical.

“Can't. I gotta check Zoe hasn't burned down the house.”

“How would she do that?”

“Pfft, you name it. Sometimes she leaves the stove on, or falls asleep with a cigarette lit on the couch. Came home once to find one of those hair curling sticks plugged, burning over a towel.”

“Hm, sounds like a handful.”

“I'd bring you with me, but—“

“She hates my guts. I know.”

It's not news to you that Zoe Harper despises you. You went to school with her at St. Hilary's Academy, and the two of you never got along. She was part of the mean clique along with Jack's ex-wife, Anna. Everyone was a target to them, including you. Zoe in particular still has a big hate boner against you, cause she never grew up out of that phase. Even in her thirties with a toddler, she's incapable of letting go of the fact that one of her ex-boyfriends in high school dated you after breaking up with her. She blamed it on you, of course, though you never met him after the fact. Just like your ex, she harassed you until the end of the school year, spreading unbelievable rumors about you. Luckily, everyone knew that was their shtick, and no one ever believed the insane lies that came out of her mouth.

“Is that why you're sleeping with me? To piss your sister off?” You can't help but wonder.

“No, she doesn't know about us. It doesn't take much to piss her off, so I'd be pretty dumb to go through all this trouble when I could just hide her glue gun.”

“Right. Do you think there'd be a time when you could stay? Or go on a date with me during the day?”

“Why are you asking me this now?” He deadpans.

“I don't know, Jack. I'm just wondering. I like you. You seem to like me. These are normal questions people have when they like someone, but I'm guessing from your expression that I have it all wrong.”

Silence. Again.

The man is a wall you can tear down, and you’re not sure why you still try or why you even care the slightless about him when he’s clearly signaling this is nothing but sex to him.

Your phone interrupts that unnerving stillness when it starts blasting a string of messages. Your ex. Probably drunk-texting the usual repertoire about how much of a bitch you are, as if he didn’t have enough with what he did earlier.

You glance down at the phone in your palm, reading the last troubling text he sent, and dare to ask, “say, hypothetically, if someone was harassing you, do you make an appointment with the police, or should someone just show up and report it at the station? How much evidence do you need?”

“What? Is someone harassing you?” He finally responds.

“No, it was just a hypothetical. Indulge me, just for fun.”

“Okay, if someone was being harassed for sure they should go report it. Guess depends on a few factors. You’d need to present proof of a relationship to the respondent, evidence whether it is physical, threats, stalking, harassment… You’d need an explanation of why you believe you’re in immediate danger to issue a temporary restraining order. Wouldn’t hurt to consult a lawyer, either.”

“That’s what I thought. Thanks.” You say curtly, grabbing your bag and tucking your phone inside.

“Is this what’s worrying you today?”

“No,” you shake your head as you reach for the door handle.

“Should I pick you up tomorrow?”

“No. I don’t think you should. Unless you change your mind about staying one night, you shouldn’t come around anymore, Jack. Take care,” you find yourself saying, rushing to leave the car at once. The way you shut the door serves as a period to a chapter that's run on for too long.

Now that you've said it, It’s definite. If he’s going to give you nothing but silence, then you’re not going to waste your time anymore.

Jack hangs his head down after watching you enter your house. There's nothing that he'd love more than to chase you and stay with you, but there's something inside that's keeping him from it. The fear of letting you down and screwing another relationship paralyzes him. That's why he's stunned every time you make an attempt to move forward with this. He has no doubt you'd be better off without him, so he'd rather let you down now than further down the line.

As he drives home, he can't get out of his obtuse mind the way your face changed when you looked at your phone and the hypothetical question that you presented him. You wouldn't be asking if it wasn't real, he believes. Maybe it's for you or for a friend, but he doesn't plan on letting that fall through the cracks like everything else in his life. If someone is harassing you, he can't turn a blind eye and let you get hurt or worse. So, he pins that thought to check on later. Though you've asked him to stay away, he can't disappear without knowing that you're okay.

By the time he parks on the driveway of his childhood home, it's stopped raining. He captures the TV glow through the window before heading inside.

His sister has passed out on the couch as usual watching one of those reality channels. Luckily, no cigarette in hand but a handful of empty beer cans clutter the coffee table between her array of supplies she uses for crafting. When he finds the remote, he switches the TV off and heads upstairs.

There's another light coming from the cracked door of Olivia's room when he climbs the staircase to the second floor. He pushes the door open to find his almost three-year-old niece having a party with her stuffies in the rug.

“Uncle Jack!” The little girl beams when he sees his face.

“What are you still doing up, lil bug?” he smiles, crouching down to hug her.

“I was hungry.”

“You didn't have dinner?”

She shakes her head, “mommy fell asleep.”

It's hard not to think badly of her sister when she does shit like this. He abstains from being judgmental, but tonight, he can't help it. All she has to do is take care of Olivia. She has no job besides selling cheap jewelry and clothes that almost nobody wants. What else is keeping her from meeting her daughter's basic needs? Really. It doesn't make sense to him. Her immaturity never left her, even after having a baby she still acts like a fifteen-year old. Some people don't deserve to be parents, and Zoe is one of them.

If it wasn't for Olivia, he wouldn't put up with Zoe's crap like he does.

He takes her downstairs and whips out something quick for her to eat. In a plate, he puts some chopped baby carrots, crackers, and cheese so she can snack while he fries some fish sticks and mixes some instant mashed potatoes. To be honest, he's not sure how much a toddler should eat at night, but he's going to let her have what she wants cause he's not sure when was the last time she had a full meal.

Olivia seems happy with his choices. She'd be a picky eater if she wasn't so hungry. She quickly devours everything he puts on her plate.

After dinner, Zoe is still deeply asleep in the same place while he helps Olivia to brush her teeth with her tiny brush he bought her the other day. It has a unicorn on the handle, which she adores.

When brushing time is done, he reads her a book and watches her fall asleep in record time.

Spending time with Olivia is lovely. It's such a beautiful picture, his heart aches for that part of him he lost. He was more than ready to be a dad, always hands on when he needed to during those short months she was on this earth.

With the weight of the world quickly settling on top of his shoulders, he retreats back to his room to see if he can put himself together the same way. He takes a shower and shaves the stubble on his face before slipping into bed. He closes his eyes, but after an hour, sleep seems to elude him. Something makes his stomach turn, and not because he's hungry. It's something else entirely. It's a gut feeling that tells him something is going on with you, and you’re not willing to tell him because he's kept you at an arm's length. God, he's such an asshole, he thinks as he flips on the bed to check the time on his phone.

It's late. But not terribly late to correct a mistake.

Jack quickly puts on some clothes without thinking, grabs his keys and phone to pay you a visit.

He makes sure Olivia's still asleep before heading out the door. Zoe is awake now on the couch, watching TV. She barely glances at him or acknowledges his presence when he lies to her, telling her that he was called to the station, that he’d probably be out all night.

The streets are empty and still soaked in a thick layer of water from the storm. He allows himself to drive a little faster now that he can.

Following another light, he knows you’re still up by the yellow glow filtering behind the curtains of one of the windows. He pulls up in the empty driveway of your house, and uses his phone to text you, typing he’s outside.

Jack waits for a minute before seeing the curtains move to show your face. He waves timidly and beckons you to meet him at the door.

“What are you doing here, Jack?”

“I thought about what you said and… Can we talk inside?”

“Are you sure? What would the neighbors say if they saw you here?” You mock him with annoyance in your tone. “Cause if Mrs. Greer sees you spending more than two minutes here, she’ll get the wrong idea. And you know how fast news travels around here.”

“Please? I just need a minute.”

Exhaling, you step backwards and open the door wider to let him in.

The TV is on when he enters the living room, and he's taken aback upon seeing the face of his ex-wife on the screen in the news segment she anchors at WSK.

“You don't have to say it. I'm pathetic.” You scoff, turning it off.

“You're not pathetic,” he's quick to reply.

“You know, I get it. She's smart and pretty, and everything I'd never be. I wouldn't blame you if you were still hung up on her. It'd explain a lot.”

It breaks his heart seeing you like this. Anna is part of his past that he’s definitely not looking to revisit. He’s not sure what you’re yet, but he’d never want you to think that you're anything less than amazing. That’s his fault for drawing this out.

“It's not that, sweetheart. I just think you deserve better than this, than me… I'm screwed up. I don't have anything to offer you right now. I know it, she knows it, too.” He vaguely gestures at the now-black flat screen, and pauses. “You think you want me, but you don't. It'll pass.”

“That's such s lame cop out. Why does every guy in my life think they know what I want or need better than me, huh? It's my choice to ruin my life if I want to. You don't get to decide. If you don't wanna be with me, that's fine, but don't say it's because I don't know what I want. Do you know what you want, Jack?”

His chin nods gently, staring down for a beat.

“Then say it.” You press him, folding your arms against your stomach. “You came back to talk, so talk.”

“It wouldn't work out between us.”

“That's not what I asked.”

Jack clears his throat. “It's not that simple.”

“Good things never are.” You keep hitting the ball into his side of the court.

“Fine! You win, okay?” His voice raises up, as all those unsaid secrets find a way out of his chest. “I can't stop thinking about you. Best thing in my life right now is when I get to pick you up and spend that little time together, and it's never enough. And I don't know how to do this anymore, how to be with someone. I don't wanna hurt you. And I can’t let my guard down again… what happened the last time… it can’t happen again…”

You see him choking up, overcome with emotion, as he trails off.

“Jack.” You bring your hands up to cup his jaw in your palms.

You open your mouth to say something else, but now it's you that gets to be speechless, so you just pull his face close, so his forehead falls on top of yours. He closes his eyes, and you close yours, letting the circling of your thumbs sooth the freshly-shaved skin of his cheeks. There’s really nothing you can say to ease the pain that he still harbors.

“It's okay,” you say after a long minute. “We don't have to rush into anything. We'll figure it out as we go. I just need you to talk to me, Jack. Just once in a while. You think we could do that? Be honest with each other?”

“Yeah, I think so,” he exhales, letting a small part of that heaviness he carries evaporate in the open space.

When he pulls his head back, you open your eyes as he places a kiss on your forehead, before locking his arms around you. His nose captures the scent of your hair while you tuck your arms around his torso.

Now that the air seems slightly clearer between you, he relaxes in your embrace for longer than he ever has. It feels like you’re holding him up, instead the other way around.

Something creeps back into his stomach—that uneasy feeling that wouldn’t let him sleep and that brought him to your door. He clears his throat to swallow the bittersweet taste left in his mouth of that sudden confession to change the subject and focus on you instead.

He hesitates to ask, but he has to.

“Hey. Do you think we could start now, being honest, I mean?”

“Sure.” You tilt your head back to capture his gaze.

“What you asked me about earlier in the car when I brought you home about harassing, I know you didn’t just ask for the sake of asking. Is there something going on, sweetheart?”

“Hm, nothing you need to worry about.” Your tone says the opposite as you suddenly pull away from his arms to busy your hands spreading the throw pillows on your couch evenly apart.

“Thought this is what you wanted. To talk.”

“This is not your problem, Jack.”

“That’s where you draw the line? Just cause it’s not my problem doesn’t mean I can’t help. I can see you’re scared, so—please, make it my problem.”

He watches you sigh with heaviness as you put the pillow in your hands down before grabbing your phone from the table.

After unlocking it and finding the text chain between you and your ex, you hand the phone to Jack so he can see for himself.

“Holy shit.”

He scrolls, dumbfounded, through a one-sided alarming thread of messages that are made of threats, degrading insults, intimidation, blackmail… You hardly ever reply unless he threatens you to do so.

“Have you tried blocking him?”

“Of course, I've tried. He shows up here if I do so. He likes to know that I read all the shit he sends. He gets off on it. He showed up today at work and I had to give him money so he'd go.”

This is more serious than he initially thought. He has to pull his eyes away from the screen after skimming roughly through over 50 messages that seem to keep going.

“You shouldn't have put this off. You could've easily got a restraining order with half of these.”

“I mean, he's never hurt me. At least there's that. He's like one of those dogs. He's all bark.”

“Yet.” Jack remarks. “He hasn't hurt you yet. What's this thing about a picture?”

“What do you think? I was stupid. I let him take pictures of me, you know… intimate pictures. Now he's saying he's going to put them all over town, so everyone can see what a slut I am.”

“You're not stupid, sweetheart. C'mere. Let's sit.” His hand points at the couch where you sit.

He lowers his backside on top of the coffee table in front of you.

“Keep these.” He puts your phone between your palms. “Tomorrow, we'll go to the station and you'll show them. I'll check with the inn, see if I can have access to the security feed.”

“Okay.”

“This is what you wanna do, right?”

You waver. “I suppose so. I just wish he'd leave me alone.”

“You gave him money. He's not going to leave you alone anytime soon now that he knows he can twist your arm like that.”

“I'm sorry I made it your problem.”

“Don't apologize. I asked you to.”

“So, what now?”

He tiredly shrugs his shoulders. “Guess we just wait and see what happens tomorrow.”

“Will you go in with me?”

“Yeah, don't worry. You're not doing this alone.” He gently cradles your hands in his palms, drawing soothing circles on your skin with his thumbs.

This is progress. It's scary, but it's a step in the right direction. He can't stay stuck red living the same day as in Groundhog Day. That's not living. This is it, holding you in his hands seems so simple yet so incredible.

Jack shifts in his seat on the table to sit next to you on the couch. His arms hold you closely as you search in his mouth something to put you at ease. He can't tell by the way your lip trembles that you're just as terrified. Perhaps not of this, you and him, but from that other situation you find yourself in. He provides a much necessary relief in the way his tongue gently massages yours. One of his hands is drawn under the hem of your top to find the warmth of your skin. It makes your hair stick out when the feather-light gliding of his fingers moves across the length of your backbone.

— credits: beautiful divider by @bernardsbendystraws

[blitz0hno]

What do u do you're about to have the breakdown that you absolutely fuckin deserve lmao

[missazura]

It's been oddly therapeutic to like. Have discussions with him about a lot of life stuff. I don't talk much if at all and I think the gradual descent into loneliness and social anxiety through the years made me lost the ability to talk to people. So it's been nice to practice talking to someone, and it actually hearing me out for some reason, giving me advice etc

Sure it's not a substitute for human connection but it's fun to verbally talk to my favourite fictional character and him just. Being there for me. That I get to hear kind words from my hero, someone who I highly looked up to

[atomiclace]

who knew that some agere people would be the worst type of people to exist (talking about you spinny)

[introspectivememories]

my timbern hot take is that i thank god everyday that we got riley rossmo's art for those first few issues instead of serg acuña's because i know some of you bitches would've been extremely weird about timbern if we had gotten acuña's manga-esque style from the beginning

[shima-draws]

There’s nothing quite like getting a wedding invitation from the guy you used to have a crush on in high school

[arsenicflame]

i keep thinking i should plan something for my birthday but i just feel so. apathetic about it. theres nothing i want to do or see or anyone i want to hang out with or.

i feel like i should care but i literally dont.

[beautifel]

i. hate that i cant ignore any longer how fucked up i am

[lilgynt]

my mom found the thing that started the fight that got me kicked out. so i was right. in my fantasies this happens and it’s great in real life im gonna jump her

[enevera]

i dont wanna count the weeks i just feel sad

[maximus-gluteus]

nothing to see here

[poorlittlevampire]

by the way idk what im supposed to do bc i don’t think the meds im on work anymore

[timegears-moved]

augh insecure about my ocs

[ichigosoju]

👻

[widevibratobitch]

i spend a few days in Poznań and i immediately start ignoring everything about Wrocław. all uni groupchats. all uni friends. none of it is real none of it exists i am happy here and i never wanna go back <3

[hiimnothere1]

Cute date idea I had ❤️

It’d be super cute if you wore a skirt and lifted it to reveal your underwear bulging and holding remote controlled toys in. I’d put my hands over them and move them around just to mess with you.

We’d go and pick out some new clothes and jewelry for me. In each store we’d pick things out but you’d be my entertainment as we do. I’ll whisper things I wanna do to you in your ear, call you a dumb fucking slut and all its variations, grab the toys and shake them around directly, and tease you about the toys and tell you about who’s staring at you.

If a large group of people were to stare at you, I’d put it on max and watch you fucking struggle to hold it in. It would be so cute to see you fold in front of them

Maybe someone would come flirt with you and I’d grab your ass and proclaim that you’re mine. The entire conversation, I’d feel you up in front of him. Maybe I’ll even have you lift your skirt in front of him and hand him the controls for a little bit. I’ll whisper in your ear “give him a little show” and have you whimper and squirm in front of both of us.

It’d be so pathetic if you came right then and there in front of both of us. Honestly, if you did, I’d probably have you beg him for forgiveness and give him permission to use your dumb mouth as forgiveness. Even if he does, you’re for sure getting punished as I will be fucking your dumb hole from behind.

I’d pour my load into you and put the toy back in before we finish out our date. The cum might leak out so you’ll need to squeeze your hole super tight against the toy so it doesn’t.

When we’re done our little trip and are back in our room, I’ll finally let you cum as I start to devour you on the bed.

See?

Really cute date idea.