v1sceral_r3ject

I didn’t really know Bambi Greer when we were kids. I don’t think anyone really did. That’s a part people always assume wrong when they find out I grew up in this shithole too. They think everybody in a town this size knows everyone else, but that only really counts if you went to school with them, or if your grandparents went to the same church, or your parents associated with the same people. I was homeschooled. Back then it was because my mom didn’t trust traditional schools. Now it’s because I don’t trust most places. Small towns look like open arms until you try to leave the house what they deem as “too often.” Then you realize everyone can see you, remembers you, asks questions you don’t really want to answer. So, I stayed in. Read a lot, watched people online instead of in person. Funny enough, I make a living talking about people from this town like I knew them better than I did. 

Most of what I really know about the Greer family comes from watching, listening. I’m good at that. The few times our lives did intersect didn’t mean anything really, no matter how many sleepless nights I ran through our interactions in my mind, searching for something that just isn’t there. 

Buck Remington worked on my car once, but whose car hasn’t been touched by him? That’s the closest I ever got to being a part of their circle, so I guess that’s enough for me.

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It was the summer before Bambi disappeared. Hot enough the air in town always smelled like oil, gasoline, and cut grass. I loved that smell, would huff it if I could. It was that summer Dad finally made me take my car out to Remington’s Auto his dollar because the engine sounded like rocks in the dryer when it idled just a tad too long, and I had yet to do anything about it. I was never a car person, Dad usually handled my car problems. Remington’s sat right off the highway, and didn't even need a map to find it. Two bays, a gravel lot, and a Coke machine that hardly worked. I liked Pepsi anyways. 

Buck was already out there when I came rolling in, leaning over someone’s hood with an oil stained rag over his shoulders like he’d been born standing there. A mess of dark hair draping over his face like he never bothered to move it. His tanned skin slick with grease and sweat, he straightened up when he heard the car come in, wiped his hands real slow like he wasn’t in any hurry to deal with anybody. He was really tall, taller than I expected when Dad said try not to stare. Six-four easily, all biceps, though he was lean in the way that still looks strong. His mess of dark hair pushed back into a cap that hung low over his eyes. 

Didn’t smile.

Didn’t frown.

Buck simply looked at the car like it was something he knew the answer to. Dad had already done most of the talking on the phone for me thankfully. Told him of the knocking noise in the engine, when it started, said I probably ignored it too long. 

I did. 

Buck didn’t say much, just waved me forward a little and told me to “kill it.” I parked myself outside the shop on a bench no one used anyone, soaking up the sun while I still could.

I remember thinking he looked way older than twenty-one. Not older as in grown, older like tired. Like a man who's seen far too much work far too early in life. Like he’d already decided how a good many things were gonna go and didn’t see a reason to even attempt to act surprised about any of them. 

That’s when Bambi pulled in.

You heard her before you saw her, loud music, tires whipping up gravel like she wanted you to know she was there. I still believe she did. She had a penchant for being the center of attention from what I hear. Old Chevy, windows down, dust kicking up behind her when she skidded across two parking spaces, crooked. She cut the engine and the music blared a few seconds too long before she leaned back, hair a mess, and shut it off. Watching her hop out was like watching a show horse, strutting like the place belonged to her. 

Tall.

Five-eleven easy, maybe a few inches taller in the black wedges she sported. Mile-high legs, cut-off shorts, dark blonde hair messily framing her face like she didn’t care what she looked like. Bambi was the type of girl that should’ve been on magazines, a video vixen. She was everything I envied of the girls from town. She spotted Buck quickly, smile tugging at her mouth like she’d been looking for him the whole time. She didn’t say a word as she trotted behind him, didn’t even ask if he was busy, just parked herself behind him and slid her arms around his waist, because of course that’s where they went. Pressed her cheek against his back, rocking him like she was trying to throw him off balance. It was apparent the sheer difference in size, Buck was built, broad shoulders and chest he inherited from his dad. Bambi was built like her name suggests, a deer. She was willowy, long limbs in a model like way, moving like a gazelle. 

Buck didn’t jump, didn’t even turn around at first. Just said, 

“ You tryin’ to make me drop this?” 

His voice was deep, like my Dad’s bourbon. Furthering my idea he looked older than his twenty-one years. She laughed right in his ear, a sound from the back of her throat rather than her chest.

“ You ain’ strong enough to drop it. “

Buck shook his head, half annoyed, half something I couldn’t place, he didn’t pull away though. He hummed, turning back to my engine, swaying with her to the best of his ability. He never once told her to stop. That was the first thing I noticed about Bambi, she touched people like she needed to make sure they were still there, that they were real and wouldn’t float away into the sky if she let them go. Hand on the arm, fingers hooking themselves into a belt loop, a dimpled chin placed upon someone’s shoulder whilst they talked. Too close for most people, not close enough for her. Never ever close enough for her. 

She noticed me staring, her big eyes narrowing slightly, Looked me up and down like she was trying to put my face onto someone she could know. She didn’t know me, and I dreamed about knowing her.

Buck didn’t look up, voice muffled from beneath my car’s hood.

“ Customer.” 

 Her squinted eyes never left me, analysing. Like his answer wasn’t good enough. Her head jerked to the side, her mess of hair falling over her freckled face, it was then I noticed the small braids hidden within her mane, tied off with colorful rubber bands. Her hands fell to her hips as she sauntered over, eyes still trying to find something. She smelt like sweet florals and sweat, a good scent, a scent I think I could wrap myself in. 

“ You from here?” 

I nodded hastily. 

She smirked like that was funny to her, pretty sure it was fucking hilarious, 

“ Everybody from here and I ain’t never seen you before.” 

“ I don’t-I don’t go out much!” 

I said, more so a squeak really, I had just noticed she hadn’t so much as blinked within the entirety of this interaction. Bambi tilted her head again, a smile still etched into her face. 

“ Yeah, I can tell. “ 

Not mean. She wasn’t nice either. I guess it’s just the way some people talk, where you can’t tell if they’re just neggin’ you unless you really know them. Buck muttered, 

“ Leave her alone Bam.”

His voice was laced with annoyance, like when you’re scolding a cat for knocking a glass off the table for the third time. Bambi turned on her heel, throwing her hands to her sides as she leaned forwards. 

“ I ain’ doin’ nothin’.” 

She drawled, waltzing back towards Buck. Her jewelry clinked as she did. She bumped her shoulder into him harder than she really need to, grabbing the grease-stained rag off his shoulder and wiped her hands on it like it was hers. There wasn’t anything really on her hands. Buck sighed, rising from the engine. He tried to take it back. She held it out of reach just to make him step closer. It was a rather cute cat and mouse game I will say. 

“ You’re gonna get grease all over everything.” 

He grumbled, brows furrowed as he hands chased after the moving rag within Bambi’s hand.

“ You like it, “ 

She shot back, enunciating the “L” as she danced around the man. Buck didn’t answer, simply snatched the rag when she finally surrendered the white cloth and returned to my engine like he wasn’t smiling a little. 

Angel was the next to show her face. 

Just like her sister before, you heard her before you saw her, only this time it was greeted with Buck sucked his teeth. Bambi swatted at him with another wolfish grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. Car door slammed hard enough to echo off the shop, her voice already cutting more than halfway into a complaint about something. I felt sorry for the car door, honestly. She came across the lot fast, arms folded time as the wind whipped her blonde hair. Her face was tight like she was already in a bad mood before she got there, and I honestly feared if she was. 

Small compared to almost everyone. 

Real small.

Blonde hair so fair you thought it was bleached. 

Sharp eyes, and a mouth that always pursed like she trusted what she was looking about just about as far as she could throw it. She stopped when she saw her sister leaning against Buck. 

Didn’t say hi. 

Didn’t even look at Buck first. 

Her eyes bore into Bambi. 

“ You comin’ home or what?” 

Bambi didn’t move, simply leaned her head back against Buck’s shoulder like the short girl wasn’t talking to her. Her voice was honeyed when spoke against Buck’s neck, her eyes glazed with something I can only really describe as infatuation. 

“ In a minute.”

In turn, Angel’s chest puffed up, her brows couldn’t furrow anymore if she tried. Her voice went tighter, higher, like the crushing of styrofoam. 

“ You said that twenty fucking minutes ago!” 

Buck straightened, not rough, enough to where Bambi had to stand on her own once again, which brought a huff from the girl. Angel’s eyes flicked to him real quick like, eyes ablaze with something I can now place as anger. Her eyes cut back to Bambi. Didn’t like how close they were. You could see that without anyone really saying that. Bambi returned her sister's gaze, smirking at her like she knew exactly what she was doing. 

“ You jealous or somethin’?” 

Angel’s face twisted into something sour, like she’d bitten into a lemon. Her face went red so fast it looked like it hurt, and I honest to God think it did. Her mouth turned into a stare as she took a step towards the taller girl. 

“ I ain’t jealous of you! “ 

She all but spat. Bambi laughed in turn. 

“ You always are. “ 

Angel took a half-step closer. 

“ Here you go, always thinkin’ somebody wan’ what you got!”

Bambi met her sister's eyes, leaning forward enough so that their faces were almost level, even with the obvious height difference. Their resemblance to one another was undeniable, though Angel was pretty in a way that’s cute, rather than enamoring.

“ Everybody does.” 

Bambi challenged, her unblinking eyes catching the light. They were some kinda of green grey. Like old marbles. Her mouth turned into a vicious smile. Buck grunted chimed from beneath the hood, real quiet like,

“ Bam.” 

Not loud, enough to make her stop though. Angel didn’t move, barely breathed. Just stood staring at him now instead of her. Like she was trying to piece together who’s side he was on. Nobody said anything after that. Nothing but the sound of tools in the shop, a car going by on the highway, the radio crackling somewhere off in the bay. I caught the melody of Stone Temple Pilots “Creep” through the poor speaker. Buck looked at the engine like he wished it would swallow him whole, like he wanted to be literally anywhere else other than here. I can't blame him. Bambi kicked a rock across the gravel with her toe, humming along to the lyrics of Scott Weiland. Angel just looked. Stared at both of them like something would happen if she looked away. Like she didn't trust either one to simply disappear if she didn't keep her eyes on one. That was the last time I ever really interacted with any of them. Sure, I saw them at Dollar General, but this town ain't but so, and faces like theirs's stick with you.

Mike was never the nicest person, especially now, after…everything.

But you? Complete opposite.

You were so doting towards him and Abby. Always approaching them with the type of patience only you seemed to have. You were his safe space to come home to after all the shit the world endlessly threw in his face. And you were so, so you with Abby. You were caring, patient, just everything. He’d come home at the crack of dawn to you and Abby sitting in the small kitchen of his apartment cooking breakfast whilst Abby chattered away with crayons and markers in hand. The sight was sweet, almost domestic.

It was nice to come home to after the grueling hours of the previous night. Mike savored these moments, and it pained him to watch you leave. He’d down his feeling with weed, hiding in the bathroom under the guise of a shower, smoking joints until he couldn’t feel his face afterwards. Then came his sleepless nights. Nights where he’d fuck his fist mindlessly to pictures of you two he’d taken in the past. Mike liked to imagine what your lives would be like if you two were actually together, like you were supposed to be. Other times Mike would imagine how you’d take him. Would you let him rail you into the mattress? Or would you beg to ride him with those pretty doe-like eyes of yours.

Michael’s hand shot up towards his mouth as he groaned into his palm, his cock painfully hard, throbbing within his fist. He was so close. In his eyes it was a shame his cum would go to waste instead of it leaking down your thighs. The mere thought was enough to make his cock twitch. He’d love to see you swollen with his child, watching you with Addy proved you be a damn good mother. The thought brought him to the edge, cum shooting from the tip. Mike groaned, his palm catching the sounds that made it past him bitten lips. He peered over at the clock, 1:27 AM.

It was a rare day Mike had a full day to himself. Like a full day to himself. No work, no lawyers, just him and Abby. He missed days like this, when he could just exist without the weight of being an adult bearing down upon him. Just him, Abby, and..you, of course. He’d forgotten to mention to you that he’d been so graciously gifted the day off.

“I don’t mind Mike! We haven’t hung out in a while, besides,” you nodded towards Abby, a warm smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I like spending time with Ab! “you chirped, offering the girl a small wave before returning your attention to Mike. The man kicked himself off the doorframe to allow you entry to the small apartment. Abby cheered as you placed your things upon the coffee table.

Mike migrated to his room while Abby entertained your attention with some movie she’d found within his collection of old CDs. He was almost envious of his little sister. Capturing your attention so easily, it was so obvious she had you wrapped around her finger and Mike was beginning to loathe that fact. He wanted your attention. He wanted your kind smiles and soft hands playing with his hair.

The sound of his door creaking was enough to bring Mike out of his own head. There you stood, your usual smile gracing your face as you stood in the doorway. “Abby’s knocked out on the couch, figured we could hang out, like we used to? “it came out more like a question. “Yeah! I mean-um sure? “Mike wanted to hit himself, honestly. Here you were, that same fucking smile and he was stuttering like a teenage boy; he propped himself up, his shirt riding up the slightest. You noticed yet adverted your gaze. He was your best friend, looking at him in that way out of line!

One thing the two of you and Mike had in common was weed. After a long day (or early morning), the two of you could pass a blunt in silence. Nothing needed to be said. Neither of you felt the silence to be uncomfortable, neither felt the need to break what was good.

Mike noted how you studied his hands when he rolled, how you’d rake your eyes down the veins and up his forearm. A smirk tugged at his stubbled face. It was like old times, both of you against his headboard, tired, and quiet. Your eyes, heavy with exhaustion, watched his fingers carefully, pink tongue darting out to wet your lips.

Mike loves you being on top simply so he can make you grind your hips on his hard on. He lives for the "mhms" that he greedily swallows up. Mike is also rather fond of smacking your ass if you slow down. He's the type to whisper the filthiest things against your lips and laugh when you try to turn your head away from him. His fingers grip your jaw, fingers digging into the fat of your face. Mike's eyes are red-rimmed and heavy, filled with something akin to hunger.

Mike's thumb rubbed soothing circles on the column of your throat, his fingers plunging into your sopping cunt like he hated you. His mouth was hot against your ear, whispering complete filth.

"You're so dirty love...crying like this."