don't

"violet," the name's like a prayer when you see her, suddenly forgetting about jonah jameson and how he's slowly eating up your brain to replace it with worry, a caring you cannot fake due to her poor state. "fuck's sake-- what the hell happened to you?"

so your arm wraps around her waist and for vi it's hard to think about how she's dying when you're this close, when amidst the blood she can pick up on your perfume still clinging to your skin after a long day, when you're warm and she's so cold in contrast. she cannot help but forget about the hero when she's allowing your soft pulling, dragging her to a perfectly made bed even when she doesn't want to sit on it, so soft and comfortable it's a privilege people like her surely don't deserve after all the wrong she made to the city, all the blood, the death.

"the blue goblin," violet vanderson's the origin to all of your headaches, the beginning and the very end of your problems, yet you don't seem to care about it, not as you should — "jinx-- it's her. i saw her. i saw her before-i…"

didn't her sister die like almost a year ago? your heart seems to hang on a thin spiderweb that will suddenly reach its point to break entirely, cause you're sure that's the sole enemy who's all about spider-man death since it's first appearance, the self-called blue goblin who's been terrorizing the city, who causes chaos and pain and is fast enough to leave the scene like they were never there for starters.

it would make such a great article if you weren't too deep into your friendly hero to ever give up her identity: the secret wars of a family drama.

"what?" how can you be soft with a matter so destructive? try to be gentle as you help her lie in the middle of your bed? a low whine escape from her parted lips and blood stains your white sheets in a new disaster: there is no way to be polite about it. one shared look, one full moment of silence and you know it deep down, just as she knows it too. "you think oscorp's behind-"

it's crazy to say it when she told you the story many times before, sitting close to you while you smoke cheap-ass cherry flavored cigarettes, going over the facts at least twice cause she still can't believe it yet: young genius killed at 19 due to chemical accident in multi-billionaire industry 'oscorp'. she keeps the first page of the journal lying on the floor of her crappy apartment, collecting dust as a reminder of who's the real enemy. got you so close to her it's a shared hatred, one she cannot bring herself to talk about now.

"ah careful," vi whines, teeth clenching as you sit next to her, slowly removing her mask you're aware now of her bruised eye, the blood on her cheek and a split lip who keeps bleeding with no intention to stop. "hurts."

you understand she doesn't want to talk about it.

"yeah i can tell," you know the hero by now: know the black and pink strands of hair she poorly dyed in her worst moments, the nose piercing that always get tucked inside the mask and ends up with biggest bumps in existence she hates to take care of, her identity she works so hard to keep secret. "you need to be more careful next time, vi. can't have you coming here in pieces."

even with spider-senses, she doesn't notice it either, the subtle layers of what you said, the care that's hidden in between syllables and you allow it to linger in the air. you care about her, about her fears, her pain and wounds. you want her to be alright, alive, the same girl who made you think twice about ever giving up her true identity: would you ever do anything to fuck up her secret? give up a nerd's life who smokes too much weed? it's impossible to ever think of hurting violet. fail her in any way.

she made you a part of her secret even when you're nothing. nothing but she looks at you like you're everything. a new kind of food never tasted before, a memory from her childhood or a dream, a fever nightmare, just a friend she cares about too much. you became the journalist who attracts danger like a magnet, third year college student she stumbles upon when trying to sell exclusive photos to the daily bugle about spider-man (bad joke, vi knows),fellow university sharer and of course, the girl who found out about her secret with no effort at all.

"i'm sorry," the gauze absorbs the blood as you speak, slowly dabbing it against the skin to disinfect the zone in practiced work you know by heart — "about your sister and this whole situation."

"it's not your fault." there's no need to speak so loud now, not when there's this much intimacy. she can feel your breathing hitching as you begin to pull on her suit downwards, when suddenly it's your fingertips the ones that gently touch her injured skin; a big scratch on the side, some wounds and bruises from inevitable punches, nothing you cannot handle with real professionalism. "i didn't know where to go-- i know i shouldn't come here… but you're the only person i trust with this."

"i don't think you have a choice either," at this point you are prepared too, cause how many times you caught yourself doing the same thing? stitching her back together as if you're a third-year med student instead of a journalist. "since i found out about your secret identity and all i'm kinda bound to be useful."

it hurts but you're numbing to the touch. it hurts but when she laughs, it's not her ribs the one that ache in pain, none other but her hands who burn in the need to reach you, explain without hesitation how having you close is the only reasonable thing in her life lately, how she's morbid and let the bad guys punch her harder only to crawl back to your apartment window like she always does, seek for your comfort, your small talk who turns into the only thing she thinks about the rest of the day.

"yeah, you're always there to help me," she does not notice her lip's bleeding so much until you're pouring some alcohol over the split skin and vi experiences the fire stoically as ever, cause to be fair: who gives a shit about the agony of hurting when you're this close? when she's looking at your lips too and it's hard to think about anything else other than the distance that separates you from her, how a simple pull using the most subtle force would be enough to destroy all boundaries, all friendship in centimeters — "i don't know how i'll ever repay you."

"you don't have to pay me anything," of course she doesn't. she's always welcome no matter how late it is cause you're always there with the biggest smile that makes her whole body shudder in the necessity to steal a kiss, do nothing and everything at once. "it is what friends are for. help."

and vi's sure you must have a fucked up concept of friends, cause friends are far from what she's doing there as her finger wraps around a thick strand of hair and she questions herself about pulling it or placing it behind your ear, her movements being almost automatic when you're following the force of her gentle tug. no, friends are a different feeling than the one that fills her stomach, that makes violet sweat as she acts purely on instinct.

rough day, rough life, her sister's her current nemesis and she's there, blatantly placing her hand on your lower back just to gently push you against her own body. priorities. she's forgetting about her priorities as the blood soaks down your shirt and vi cannot place another serious thought when she notices your face, how your chest presses just right against her own. it's inevitable, inevitable when she can't escape you as part of your weight rests on top of her. a private kind of holy heaven.

pain. it's good pain when you forget about the lip and whatever you were doing right before she decides to toss the rest of rationality out of the window, when her hands wrap around you and her lips crash against yours in a messy kiss — violet vanderson has no morals when her brain has finally turned off enough so she's nothing but teeth and desperation, squeezing the skin of your waist between her fingers afraid you'll slip away any second, pulling you closer so you have to climb into the bed and get inevitably close, so close she can keep taking advantage of you, intimate.

"your injuries, you're hurt" did she whine? did she make a sound when your hand settles in her chest? she can't tell as the seconds pass, too distracted by the fact that you're not stopping her but instead, replying to her kisses just as hungry as she is. "violet."

"i don't mind they don't hurt" they would fade fueled by her strange biology — "please. i promise you i'm okay. i just need you close."

saying it out loud leaves a different feeling behind. a sweet taste on her tongue you mix with your own saliva in response when you're between her legs and vi's short circuiting cause she never, never dared to dream about stuff like this. you're too dear, too close to her to ever think of you in some fantasy, so this now? it's new, new as she melts under your touch, as you're helping her to pull your shirt upwards and finally get rid of each piece of fabric that's in the way, new when there's no more imagination behind but plain and tangible reality.

did she smoke too much weed before? high on the smell of your skin, the arousal that fills the air and vi can tell like the most delicious perfume: you're soft against her body and it's crazy, crazy how you fit so well against the hard planes of her frame, how you invade all over not leaving any space for vi to win any fight as she's already under the waves of your ocean. consuming, it drags her to the second circle of hell in a crazy journey of adrenaline she wishes to never end.

"let me take care of you-" her heart beats loudly in her chest as you speak, afraid for a moment she imagined your words. she deserves good, deserves to rest up and shut her brain at least for a night, always giving to a city who never gives nothing in return, when it's going to ever be her turn? "please. let me take care of you tonight. i'll make you feel nice."

"nice, huh?" the words slip and she chuckling at your promises, not because it's fun or anything but because she's nervous about it, blushing under the warm lights of your bedroom while trying to conceal the idea in her own mind: you want to take care of her. "i'm no one to ever stop you, bug."

she's fucked up. fucked up as the minutes pass, when all turns blurry for a moment and vi gets stuck in the way you take off your bra, when suddenly her suit's off and she's greeted by the warm temperatures of your body. bandaged chest, black underwear, glassy eyes and raspy voice, she's bare as you indulge her clumsy behavior — it becomes a game, a delicious back and forth she loves to participate in, when your bra's falling to the floor and she's chuckling as you go and pull on the bloody bandages of her chest, nice.

your jeans slip to the cold ground and the air changes in that exact moment, when you're taking her hand between your own and place it right above your underwear. warm, inviting, the hero's fingers move against your soaked cunt in a gentle rub, over the fabric cause there's a lot of time left, cause the hours will go on slowly and she wants to experience it, first-hand as your arousal trespasses your own underwear and glues to her digits instead.

oh, she wants a taste. fuck yes. the older vanderson would kill to be on her knees, accept a million punches if it means she can get on the floor for you, chin wet, broad licks and soft sucking your clit to express the devastation you brought into her existence, the constant desire she's exposed as a dog who's too shy to get an owner. the need that ends up being sweat on her skin mingling with your own in the most delicious smell.

she loves all of it, the messy look as you grind against her fingers cause you're really enjoying it, that cheeky smile who suddenly appears and pulls on your lips upwards, hear a moan or two. she loves the glistening sweat that makes your skin glow in the ethereal being, the traces of her blood already dry against your flesh. you're soaking up her digits and you look so good even when she's not really touching you it's downright insane, driving her to plain madness as your hands go down her chest for some support and she's aware of you now, of your heartbeats that race against time and the sounds you make at the strike of pleasure. her nose drags against the curve of your neck to pick up on your smell for some sanity, but it does nothing when it leaves violet wanting to sink her teeth down the muscle of your shoulders, give you a reminder of the night.

so maybe it's your need to please, to give vi everything the world has deprived her from, cause you struggle for a while before you push her hand away and instead, place yourself between her legs, a nice, sweaty chaos of limbs and ragged breathing as you blend within the deepest parts of her, a new and non-negotiable addition to the inexistent friendship as your underwear hangs in one of your tights halfway-on and it's enough, enough to make vi's panties to the side and just — blend.

intimate, it's exquisite when she can feel you moving between her parted legs. the pain melts away to be forgotten and instead, it's replaced by the confidence of a naked body and whispered praises she wants to hear over and over again. the pleasure that burns like the alcohol in her wounds but she digs it now more than ever, the inviting curve in your lower back as your hips move in circles and there it fucking is; the perfect spot where you're dragging your soaked folds against vi's own and becomes filthy in seconds. slick with arousal, the pink hair of her bush gets sticky against your leg as it creates a wet sound that fills the entire room with nothing but a proof of a shared need.

man she's never been fucked like this before.

"look how you were made for me sweetheart, fit with me so perfectly--" it gets her entirely, the erratic movements as it gets faster, your fingers finding her neglected clit who keeps rubbing against you to take care of it with the pad of your fingers. she's making you move with enough force to do all the work herself, you body already pliant and responsive to her needs as vi's the one who keeps scissoring and moving you to her will, nails digging in your upper thigh wishing to leave a mark, a bruise in the shape of her hands only to remind you how good it feels when you were hers, only hers.

so good. you're so good. she keeps repeating it as she looks at the disaster that keeps happening between her legs, the good disaster that get the sheets dirty, that makes vi curious as she slides a couple of fingers between your legs too cause she's nothing but a scientist — how does it taste anyway? like the greatest elixir? curious, her digits drag along your slit only to get them soaked, gaining an immediate reaction when you're holding her arm before she could do anything to instead, lean to suck on her fingers yourself before she could try.

the warm feeling of your mouth enveloping her fingers distracts her for a moment, the flick of your tongue as you take them deeper so her fingertips can rub on your fucking throat and you breathe through your nose as the saliva falls on top of her chest. filthy. one subtle use of force and vi's suddenly pushing her digits deeper into your mouth so you can choke on them and she can watch you struggling for air, so the oxygen's not enough and you're gagging between saliva and her need to go further.

"there you go, keep taking them good," she's gonna cum, you're going to cum, it's a shared sensation she loves to feel. warm cunt, she can feel how you constrict against her, how your body tenses as you're dragged by the current, one with the cherry waves who only expel your name.

vi holds you in place when your body shakes, limbs failing in the most human reaction as she uses her force to keep you seated on top of her, rock your body back and forth until her own is shaking and it's similar to a dagger stabbing her heart in a sweet torture. travels through her spine like electricity, leaves her shivering as she cums and your fluids stick to her inner thighs until its under her nose and it becomes the only thing the spider can smell.

it's nice. the sweat, your soft kisses on the side of her face and that caress you thumb keeps making and vi's sure you are not very much aware of, the most normal thing she has experienced in weeks. like she belonged there all along.

"your wounds," it makes her laugh for a moment: now you care? after the bliss, who cares about blood and bruises? who cares about the gore and violence? it's nice to see you like that, meet the marks of your body, the curves and hollows as you inspect her injured skin who's already getting back up on its own — "you're healing by yourself."

"yeah i can do that sometimes."

"sure you do, nasty liar" her brows furrow at the accusation, yet at the lack of arguments that proves vi's a saint she chooses to silent while you're lucky enough to guess her obvious plans. "you just come here to act like a rag doll when in reality you're all cool and have healing powers too."

brat. fucking brat. she's having so much fun when your wrist's under a spiderweb now trapped in the headboard of the bed and she has enough energy to switch up positions and pin you down against the mattress, a gasp, a giggle of surprise: shit. it's dangerous, crazy how much you like it, how much she fucking loves it.

"well, what can i say? i'm guilty as fuck." even breathing feels delicious when she can inhale that post-sex scent you fucking reek to get it imprinted in her memories like an addict. "what are you going to do about it? yes. i come here because i want you close to me."

vocal. vi needs to be vocal cause she wants your hands all over her, your love spreading like a fever. it's okay to finally state it, that night is permitted to slip away for a few hours cause that's where she belongs. no blue goblin, no oscorp, no spiders nor sister who comes back to life as frankenstein — that night it's you and her, no city nor darkness clouding up the sky.

Five minutes later, Marlene was slamming you against the inside of the change room door with a hand on your throat, kiss bruising against your lips. Your arms were thrown over her shoulders, kissing back with equal fervour.

“Tastes so sweet,” She mumbled before slipping her tongue in your mouth, a soft groan slipping from your lips. Marlene kissed like she played, offensive, impassioned. It was exciting, having someone pursue you like a trophy.

The obscene sounds of your mouth echoed off the tiled walls of the change rooms, only turning you on more. Marlene must have felt you squirming against her front, lips twisting into a smile even as they moved against your own. One hand slid from your throat up into your hair, whilst the other wrapped around you, pressing your bodies tight against each other.

You pulled away, an erotic string of saliva trailing with you as you attacked her neck, sucking and biting until Marlene released a breathy moan, tipping her head back in pleasure. The hand burning a hole on your lower back explored the soft fabric of your dress, wandering until it found the small metal zipper sitting snug against your skin.

“Can I?”

“Please,” You bit back before she could even finish, sucking an aggressive mark into the join of her collarbone. Marlene didn’t waste any time, dragging the zip all the way down past the dip of your lower back so the entire expanse of skin was exposed. The whole dress loosened around you, and it only took you letting your arms sit by your sides before it was pooling at your feet.

Marlene took a step back, eyes glued to your figure as she drank you in, bare save your lacy black thong.

“Jesus Christ,” She murmured, hands extending to rest on your hips, “You’re unreal.”

“Thanks,” You said, immediately cringing. That was the best you could come up with? Marlene clearly didn’t mind, laughing softly as she brought you back into her, kissing you again.

She led you backwards, holding you tight as you stepped out of the dress tangled at your feet. A bench made itself known behind your knees, and you followed when Marlene pushed you back onto it, sitting with a small oomph.

Looking up at her from your seated position, Marlene looked something like a god, looming and powerful even as her eyes were blown out with lust. You let out a small exhale, the sheer perfection of her being taking your breath away. She grinned, somewhere between amused and egoistic as she straddled your lap, heavy and comforting with muscle.

It started just as another kiss, the deep taste of whiskey still on her tongue, but a violent groan ripped out of you when Marlene’s lithe fingers had a go at your nipple, pinching boldly. You back arched of its own accord, pressing up into her as much as you could.

“Sensitive, hm?” She teased, twisting again until you mewled. You nodded, unable to do much else. “Wonder what else is sensitive…”

Her other hand snuck between your bodies, finding its way to the soaked patch on your tiny panties. The effect was immediate, sending shivers through your nerves. Your hips tried to buck, but Marlene’s thighs had them pinned down, which was almost hotter, the sheer power of her legs incapacitating you.

The reaction spurred her on, teasing your folds through the soaked fabric until constant, pathetic moans were being breathed into her face.

“You’re so cute,” She giggled, using her free hand to brush a stray hair behind your ear, kissing you sweetly. “You gonna let me get inside these cute little panties?”

You nodded enthusiastically, eyes wide as you watched Marlene crawl off of you and onto the floor in front of your crotch, pupils covering almost her entire iris. She leaned in, and you thought you knew what to expect, and then she simply sniffed, hard and long for a few seconds. It was the hottest thing you’d ever seen. You crumbled, falling back onto your elbows and watching her through lidded eyes.

Finally, Marlene ran her tongue flat over your covered cunt, the proximity unbearable. All you wanted was the real thing, to feel her.

“Please,” You begged aimlessly, hands running down your body. You felt Marlene smile against your folds through the fabric, nipping at your sensitive clit to make you squeal before pulling away.

Slowly, she dragged the panties down your legs, flinging them somewhere in the direction of your abandoned dress. You were practically vibrating with excitement, the idea of Marlene between your legs completely incomparable.

Faced with your glistening pussy, Marlene wasted no time, diving right in with energy you wouldn’t expect from someone who’d just won a grand slam. You threw your head back in ecstasy, goosebumps raised on your skin as Marlene’s tongue circled your eager clit.

“Oh, fuck,” You moaned, grinding up against her face. Marlene wasn’t deterred, using her tongue to probe at your hole. The sensation was delicious, toes curling of their own accord. “More, please.”

Marlene glanced up at you, and the vision of her peeking out from between your thighs was sickening in the best way.

“You want my fingers, sweetheart?” Marlene grinned, eyes locked on your face, your own eyebrows knitted together as she got closer to your hole. “Knew you would.”

When the first lean finger pushed into your hole, the feeling was instant. Mouth dropping into an ‘o’, hands grasping the bench, you took it as Marlene explored your inside, pushing all the way to the knuckle of her first finger.

“Jesus, sucking me in, gorgeous. You want more?” You nodded pathetically, incoherent pleas flooding from your mouth. Marlene obliged, stuffing two more into you without any warning, laughing out loud at the strangled mewl leaving you.

Your breathing punctuated with every thrust of her fingers, short and sharp as your arousal squelched obscenely, echoing in the otherwise empty changing room. Marlene observed you almost objectively, suppressed amusement as you writhed under her, perspiring from the force of her shoving her whole hand up into you.

Your eyes were glassing over, rolling back into your head as you convulsed, orgasm crashing over your with minimal warning. Marlene didn’t pull away, fingers fucking you through the high.

“You wanna try something?” She murmured, clearing from your face stray strands of hair.

“Yes,” You replied, kissing her desperately, “Anything.” Marlene’s eyes glimmered with mischief. From somewhere beyond your field of vision, Marlene pulled out her tennis racquet. Your eyes widened and awareness returned to you. “What?”

“You’re not scared, are you?” She teased, “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, sweetheart.”

“No,” You said, unsure but not turned off, “Let’s do it.”

Marlene grinned, fingers finding their way back to your hole, stretching you out as much as she could.

Carefully, slowly, Marlene raised the racquet to be equal with your throbbing pussy, the anticipation almost unbearable. The second it pushed into the tight cavern of your cunt, you were squealing into your own hand, pain and pleasure mixing into the same overwhelming sensation.

The more she pushed, the more you writhed, unable to keep quiet even if you wanted to. Marlene didn’t make any attempt to shush you despite the semi-public nature of your hookup, playing with your nipples to ease the pain of the handle entering you.

She gave you a minute to adjust, both your chests heaving with pressure and eroticism. When she thought you were ready, Marlene began to move the racquet in and out of you slowly, cataloguing your reactions like there’d be a test on it.

“This okay?”

“Yeah,” You panted, hips beginning to buck as the pleasure increased. Marlene’s thrusts picked up the pace, pistoning in and out of you. You were being stretched beyond belief, walls tight and clenching against the grip of the racquet.

“C’mon, baby, give me another.” Marlene’s other hand found its way to your clit, rubbing tight, intense circles as you groaned out a pornographic sound.

You could only mumble a string of nonsensical pleas and prayers, legs shaking as Marlene tortured you to orgasm.

“Please — fuck — I’m gonna,” You cut yourself off as Marlene shoved the racquet as deep into your pussy as she could, the force sending you falling off the edge, body going slack as the orgasm shuddered through you.

Silence fell over the both of you while you recovered, breathing shaky and unsteady. Carefully, Marlene extracted the racquet from your tired pussy, both of you giggling at the obscene sight of it covered in your arousal and orgasm.

“Fuck,” You groaned, “Can I try?”

No one prepares you to feel as though your body is being peeled open layer by layer until God finds what he’s looking for. God has to be a he. Another woman would never do this to you. It’s a cruel thought. You know it’s a cruel though but you’d be damned if it wasn’t true. A woman would never let a man take that autonomy from you. Especially not so young.

It had been two years since you found out about what that man had done to you. But sometimes, when the night grows cold and the trees began to creak with a harsh blow of the frigid air, the silence would make you think. Think about what happened. And that no matter how much your heart wanted to forget, no amount of sleep could make you forget how much you trusted him. Until you didn’t.

You’d been dating Nat for about a year and a half. A year and a half of her fucking you with the softest touch that only someone with the power of a very good, female God could create. A year and a half of you making her take anything with a camera and making her stuff them in a towel in your bathroom cabinet before even taking your shirt off. She knew why. You both knew why. 

Natalie Scatorccio knew she would never understand what it was like to be raped. And she was so fucking grateful for that. But God would she always be angry about what happened to you. She would always hate that man. She would always hate knowing that no matter what she couldn’t help how you always felt like his hands were all over your body. How you’d spend hours in the shower trying to scrub his DNA off of you. How you’d wake up in a cold sweat pawing at Nats chest sobbing “I can’t” over and over. It rang it her ears like a bad sermon.

You didn’t miss it. Who would miss the years when they were getting sexually assaulted? But God did you miss not knowing about it. You missed not fearing looking pretty because you worried someone might do the same thing he did. But it felt as though you couldn’t be pretty unless you were alone. Pretty girls got hurt. Pretty girls deserved to have it happen. You used to be a pretty girl. That’s why it happened. It was a shitty rational. You knew it was because you knew damn well that if anyone said that you’d punch them in the nose until they could only breathe blood. But rape doesn’t come with rationality.

Nat wasn’t someone who was easy to anger. Not when she loved you, that was. And Nat loved you. Which was probably why she was way more angry about this than she was about most things. If she had it her way he wouldn’t be in prison for 2 or so years. He would’ve been gunned down. Because Nat didn’t know exactly how you felt. But she knew your body felt as though it was rotting with the way you couldn’t get his handprints off your body. 

"Hm," you make a noise in response, "Just thinking about your game later," you whisper, not an entire lie but not the full truth either. You twist yourself around to face her. Your front now pressed against her instead. "Hi," you say softly, a tiny smile curling onto your lips as your eyes meet with hers. "Hey," she responds, leaning closer and placing a small kiss at the tip of your nose.

"Don't tell me you were daydreaming about my ass in the shorts again," Nat teases, which in turn makes you push her back slightly. "That was one time, I am never telling you anything again," you huff, although you both know that's a lie. "Mhm," she hums, stealing a kiss from your lips. "I'm sure you won't," her mouth holds a smug smile as she pulls back. "Whatever," you joke, leaning your head into her chest, which she happily welcomes. Her hand finds your hair, softly stroking the back of your head. I love you— those are the three words Natalie thinks about every time she's with you.

The girl knew she had it bad for you when she found herself letting you in more than she had ever allowed anyone before. The way she constantly wanted you around even if you did nothing at all. The way she could sit and listen to you talk about all your favorite things. She knew it before you had started dating, but when she finally let herself feel it, she was in deep. Truth is, you were in the exact same boat. In fact, you were a mess before you started dating. It shocked you when you found out she had no idea you liked her because you thought the whole time you were making it painfully obvious. Which brings you to the now— you and Natalie hadn't been intimiate yet— mainly because you hadn't yet made any advance to let her know you're ready. Well you had tried, but apparently what feels like balantly obvious to you isn't really for her.

"Who's the quiet one now," your playful tone brings her out of her thoughts. She watches as your fingers rise up and flicks her forehead gently. "Hey!" she laughs, grabbing onto your wrist and pushing it down onto the mattress, effectively pinning you down. Her fingers lace with yours as she moves closer, her eyes scanning your face as you look up at her. You see her lips part like she's going to say something but the words never come, instead she kisses you. Warm, soft, and slowly. Her lips move against yours with a tenderness that makes you melt. The thing about Natalie is that she has always kissed you like she's exploring you for the first time. She always takes her time, she molds against you perfectly, like she's afraid to mess up— not that you would ever think she would.

You sigh against her mouth when you feel her tongue slide between your parted lips. Your hand comes up wrapping around the back of her neck as you deepen the kiss. Natalie groans before pulling back for air. "I love you," her voice is low, raspy, and utterly breathless. You smile at her for a moment, your eyes wide, lips puffy and slightly wet. It wasn't like it was the first time she'd said it to you but it still had the same efffect and you were positive no matter how long you stayed together it would always. "Hm, I love you more," you tease her, already pulling her back into another kiss before she has a chance to respond.

There is nothing shy or cautious about the way you kiss her this time, the intent is clear and Natalie is not denying you one bit. She moves further over you, her leg slotting between yours just close enough to tease. She's not being gentle anymore either, this kiss feels wilder than others you've shared. Her mouth captures yours hungerily as her hand squeezes yours tighter against the mattress. It isn't until you feel her leg press against your core that you realize you'd been moving, chasing some sort of friction. "Babe.." Natalie says quietly pulling away only enough to face you. "Fuck," the word sounds like a groan as it leaves her mouth when she sees the pleasure on your face. She knows you want this just as badly as she does considering the way you keep chasing her leg as she pulls it away, the whine you let out just confirms it further. She grabs your jaw with her other hand, making you look at her, "Tell me," she says lowly, her eyes darkening, "I wanna hear you say it," her fingers squeeze at your jaw gently. "Nat.." you drag out breathlessly as she presses her knee against you once more, "Please, I want you.." Her lips twitch into a slight smirk as she leans down.

"Say it again," she mumbles, her lips now replacing the hand she had on your jaw. "I wanna hear those pretty lips say exactly what you want." Her words hit right to your core and that was something she knew quite well. Natalie was a very observent girlfriend and she had quickly caught on to how much you enjoyed even the smallest bits of praise. "I want you," your head falls back giving her more access as she proceeds to attack your neck. "You want me to do what exactly?" She murmurs into your skin, you were sure she was wearing that usual smug expression as well. "I want you to fuck me," you say now feeling a surge of boldness. Natalie doesn't answer— doesn't have to, really— she bites your neck, finding that spot that makes you weak and drags a moan out of you. Her hand slip under your shirt, feeling your warm skin under her fingertips, dragging her nails softly against your abdomen.

Natalie takes her time with you, her hands finding your tits, fingers toying with your nipples as her mouth greedily kisses down your neck. "Sit up, baby," her voice is soft, as she pulls you up. "I'm gonna take this off, okay?" Her eyes stare into yours, fingers grasping the hem of your shirt as you nod, she waits a bit longer before finally taking the shirt off. "Perfect.." she mutters to herself but the statement still brings a flush to your cheeks. She wraps her arms around your waist pulling you closer, "You're fuckin' perfect," she repeats it, feeling you relax into her hold. She leans down kissing your chest, slowly moving downward and kissing the top of your breast as she unclasps your bra. "Look at you.. My perfect girl." She groans when you whimper at her praise, gently moving you back down onto the mattress. She leans down, taking one of your tits into her mouth, her tongue swirling around the sensitive bud. You let out a moan, back arching up into her. Her arm wraps around you, holding you closer as she sucks down on it. Her other hand moves down, traveling past the waistband of your shorts. Her fingers drag between your slick folds feeling the wetness pooling there. "Shit, baby," she groan pulling her hand back out, a whine slipping from your lips as the loss. "Shh, I'll take care of you," she whisper placing a kiss to your lips before moving downwards. Her fingers hooking onto your shorts and underwear pulling them both down in one swift motion. She settles between your legs, just looking at your gleaming cunt, her hands dragging across your thighs. "You're the best goddamn thing that's ever happened to me," She says, leaning closer to your core. She wants to take her time, make you squirm, make you needy for it but she can't wait— not when you're already leaking for her and your whimpers already sound so good through her ears.

She latches her mouth to your dripping cunt, moaning at the taste of you. Her tongue swirling around your clit before lapping what you have to offer. She holds you down to keep you from running. Her tongue slides between your folds before turning its attention back to your clit and bringing her hand up slowly sticking one of her fingers inside. "Fuck.. " You moan out, biting on the back of your hand. She sticks another one shortly after, pumping in and out steadily as her tongue laps at your clit. She contemplates adding a third but decides to save it for the next time instead.

The room is filled with the sounds of your combined moans, the squelching noise of her relentless rhythm, and smell of sex. Your breathing is heavy and labored, your hands gripping the pillow over your head as your body begins to quiver. She can tell you're close by the way your thighs squeeze at her head. She pushes her fingers as deep as possible, sucking down on your clit effectively sending you right over the edge. "Natalie..." You cry out as you come. She doesn't stop right away, lapping up your juices, enjoying the way you twitch when she hits your sensitive nib. When she does pull away— with much reluctance— she leaves her fingers inside you, letting you ride out your orgasm. "My favorite good luck charm," she whispers, her thumb rubbing against your clit as she kisses her way back up your body. "You're so pretty, baby," a kiss to your stomach, "So fucking responsive for me," a kiss right under your breast, "Look at you, such a pretty little mess," a kiss at your sternum, "I never wanna leave this bed now," she's facing you now. You're a mess, a whimpering, stuttering mess. "Wow, rendered speechless for the first time?" She smirks and if you weren't too busy focused on how her fingers were hitting the perfect spot, maybe you'd have some retort. "That's it, you can give me another, for good luck," she whispers, realizing you're already close once more.

regulars — @frankiebeeslyshouse @imurmama-83 @caudixys @paradoxicalconundrum @were-lookingforyuri @ciniyiqmiou @mermaidslament

July 2007.

Nat cursed as she accidentally stepped straight into a puddle. Dirty water splashed all over her brand new pants. She shoved a cigarette between her lips and, with an irritated grunt, bent down to wipe away the grime. She wanted to look at least halfway decent that evening, to show Tai that she was doing well after rehab.

She straightened up and pulled the cigarette from her mouth. Smoking was the only thing she had left. She just hoped Taissa wouldn't give her grief over it. Nat could give up a lot of things, but not her pack a day, or at least that's what she kept telling herself. If Tai stood in front of her and said that the next step toward getting any information about you was quitting nicotine, Nat would do it without a second thought.

The last time she'd touched drugs had been twelve months ago. The last bottle of beer she'd drunk had been exactly a year ago. Ever since then, she'd drowned every craving in coffee and energy drinks. Her psychiatrist at the rehab facility always frowned at the amount of caffeine she consumed, but he'd probably decided that was a problem for another day.

Caffeine didn't turn Nat's brain to mush.

Her heart skipped a beat when she stopped in front of the diner Taissa had chosen as their meeting place. She flicked away the cigarette butt, crushed it beneath her boot, bounded up the steps in a few quick strides, and pushed through the door.

Most of the tables sat empty. From the sign on the door, Nat gathered the place would be closing in less than an hour. She scanned the room but didn't see Tai anywhere, so she slid into a booth in the corner. She ordered nothing but a glass of water, which the waitress brought over almost immediately, her expression as gloomy as the weather. Without a word, she set the glass down and returned behind the counter to wipe it clean.

Nat checked her phone to make sure she hadn't missed a message from her friend before slipping it back into her jacket pocket. She took a sip of water and stared out the window.

As always, her thoughts drifted to you.

She wondered whether you'd already made it home and curled up beneath a blanket after a long day, or if you were still at work. Nat would've given anything to be with you right then. She would've tried harder. She would've done so much more to ease your burden.

She swallowed against the acid that climbed into her throat as memories of the last time she'd seen you resurfaced.

That day replayed in her mind without pause, always leaving a crushing ache in her chest. Nat had come to think of it as a form of penance for everything she'd done to you, and everything she'd failed to do.

She'd stumbled into your apartment just before dawn, walking right past the cabinet where a neat stack of unopened envelopes lay waiting. Every single one was a final payment notice. Soon the water or electricity would've been cut off. There would've been enough money to cover the bills if Nat hadn't spent every last cent on drugs and booze in bars. She stole cash from your wallet, then wandered the streets shoulder to shoulder with Travis, nursing drinks and snorting cocaine. She didn't care that you were working yourself to the bone just to keep food on the table and the lights on, while she'd long since given up on getting a job.

There hadn't been any real intimacy between you for a solid two years. Nat only wanted you when she came home drunk and high. She'd collapse on top of you, reeking of alcohol and weed until the smell alone made you sick. You'd never gotten used to it, no matter how many years had passed. She'd kiss you from head to toe, slurring about how beautiful and wonderful you were only to call you a selfish bitch the moment you turned her down.

Guilt twisted in her stomach. Even knowing she was starting from a losing position, she intended to try again.

Nat hated that she'd realized far too late that she'd lost you for good. You'd told her to get out and thrown the backpack you'd already packed for her. At first she'd burned with anger and frustration, convincing herself she hated you for leaving her like everyone else had. Shed told Travis you could go fuck yourself, that she didn't need you, swallowing pill after pill. But even through the haze of drugs and alcohol, the truth hit her a week later.

It had taken days, but Taissa had finally gotten what she'd wanted and sent Nat to a locked rehabilitation facility for a year.

Nat had left two weeks ago. She'd landed some shitty job at a gas station, but it was enough to rent a room at a motel for now, afford dinner, and save a little toward getting an apartment.

"I expected you to look a lot worse."

Nat turned toward Tai and flashed her a crooked grin.

"You wish," she muttered.

Taissa snorted with laughter and slid into the booth across from her. Folding her hands on the table, she studied Nat carefully.

"It's a good thing you quit before the drugs ruined that pretty face."

Nat smiled again.

Just then, the waitress came over to ask if they needed anything else, informing them in a bored tone that the diner would be closing in forty minutes. Silence settled between them once she walked away. The place grew emptier by the minute. Nat could hear nothing but the muffled hum of traffic outside and the quiet radio playing in the background.

She knew she should thank Tai for everything; for sending her to rehab, paying for it all, letting her stay at her apartment those first few nights after you'd thrown her out on her ass.

Nat didn't resent you anymore. All that remained was longing, regret, and disgust with herself.

She lifted her gaze from her glass and looked Taissa in the eye. The words barely made it past her throat.

"Tai..."

"Oh, stop." Taissa waved it off, reaching across the table to take her hand. She glanced around before lowering her voice to a whisper. "You saved our lives. I was just returning the favor."

Nat's throat tightened, her eyes stinging. Her fingers curled instinctively around Taissa's hand. She clenched her jaw to keep the tears from falling. After a long moment, she let out a slow breath.

She decided to change the subject and ask the question she'd been pestering Tai with for the past year.

"And how is doing…"

"Nat," Taissa cut in immediately.

Her heart lurched unpleasantly.

Nat knew that tone all too well. Ever since the two of you had broken up, Tai had refused to tell her anything about you. She always insisted it was for Nat's own good, that she needed to focus on herself.

"You know perfectly well that…"

"You've talked to her." Nat shifted in her seat. Bitterness dripped from her voice, impossible to hide. "Did she tell you not to tell me anything? Does she want to cut me out of her life?"

She swallowed hard, suddenly unsure whether she really wanted the answer.

Up until now, her only goal had been finding her way back to you. She kept telling everyone that her sobriety and getting her life together came first, but everything she'd done had really been driven by the hope of fixing what the two of you had lost.

"What?" Taissa stared at her in genuine confusion, and the tension drained from Nat's shoulders. "No. We barely talked about you. She's... been through too much."

Nat frowned, not entirely understanding.

"I didn't want to reopen old wounds," Taissa finished quickly.

Nat wasn't sure she believed that version of events, but she decided not to press the issue.

"Do you have her number?" she asked instead. Her leg bounced beneath the table.

"Nat. Absolutely not."

"Oh, cut the bullshit and give me something," Nat snapped, her voice losing its warmth. "I just want to talk to her. I don't understand what your problem is."

The waitress cleared her throat, shooting them a warning glance, and Nat drew a deep breath to calm herself.

"It's a bad idea."

"Why?" Nat refused to back down.

A strange expression crossed Taissa's face. She seemed to wrestle with herself before answering.

"Because she has a girlfriend, Nat."

Nat let go of her glass and folded her hands in her lap. Her fingers began twisting together anxiously.

She'd considered the possibility. She'd thought about it countless times while she was in rehab—that you might already be with someone else. But some foolish part of her had believed you'd give her one more chance if she asked.

For one brief moment, anger flared.

How could you move on so quickly from someone you'd been with for years? How could you be with someone who hadn't been out there in the wilderness, who hadn't survived everything the two of you had?

Just as quickly, Nat realized she was slipping back into selfishness.

Maybe your new partner was simply a better person. Maybe, for the first time in years, you could finally breathe without being tied to someone drowning in trauma and addiction.

Taissa watched her carefully, as if she wasn't sure what to expect.

An outburst? Tears?

Nat only nodded, even as her fingertips bled beneath the table where her nails dug into her skin.

"I still want to talk to her," she said much more quietly. "I miss her. Even if she tells me to fuck off."

Tai looked at her with such aching pity that Nat couldn't bear it. She dropped her gaze to her glass.

She didn't know what to think. She had no idea how to swallow the thought of you with someone else, but deep down, she knew you deserved someone better. For now, she'd settle for talking to you if only to apologize for everything.

She hated the traitorous hope buried in the back of her mind that the moment you saw her, you'd throw yourself into her arms.

Taissa shifted in her seat and sighed.

"She has the late shift tomorrow at that bar near the park."

Natalie knew exactly which one.

She'd spent far too much time there herself.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Tai simply nodded.

***

Nat sat on the sidewalk across the street for a long time, staring at the bar's sign and chain smoking cigarettes. People came and went. Every few moments the doors swallowed whole groups of patrons, only to spit them back out later, drunk and stumbling onto the sidewalk.

Long months of therapy had all led to this very moment, yet Nat couldn't bring herself to walk inside. She wasn't entirely sure what frightened her more; the thought of your icy stare and possible rejection, or simply being inside a bar after rehab.

She forced herself to get her pathetic ass off the curb and dragged herself toward the entrance.

The air inside was stifling. The place reeked of sweaty bodies, cigarette smoke, and alcohol. On a Saturday night, the bar was packed wall to wall. Nat felt almost intoxicated from breathing in the suffocating mixture of smells alone. Her head spun, and for a moment she wanted to turn around and run.

Instead, she steeled herself. Doing her best to ignore the clinking bottles filled with liquor, she pushed through the crowd toward the bar, muttering apologies under her breath every time she bumped into someone.

Finally, she made it through and gripped the edge of the counter. Her heart pounding, she scanned the bartenders bustling behind it.

You weren't there.

The pounding bass made her headache worse with every passing second. She brushed off several drunken idiots who tried to flirt with her and, fingers tightening around the countertop, kept searching for you.

Until, finally, there you were.

At first, you didn't notice her, which gave Nat the chance to simply look at you.She froze. You'd barely changed.

You were still breathtaking, despite the exhaustion and irritation written all over your face. You wore a dark bartender's uniform, and suddenly Nat felt exactly the way she had the first time the two of you had skipped class together and shared a joint.

The world stopped the moment Nat realized you were looking back at her.

Shock made you sway on your feet before they carried you straight toward her. Nat paled as she watched every ounce of irritation on your face find a new target, which was her.

No, it wasn't irritation. It was fury.

Before Nat could think of anything remotely sensible to say, something she probably should've prepared beforehand, for fuck's sake—you were already leaning over the bar toward her in disbelief.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" you growled.

Nat stood rooted to the spot at the sound of your voice.

She still remembered how gentle it had sounded back in your cabin after nightfall, when she'd peel off that ridiculous Antler Queen costume. You'd wrap yourself around her, kissing the back of her neck until Nat fell asleep in your arms.

"Did you hear me?"

Nat nodded like a complete idiot.

The whole time she'd been staring far too intently at your lips. Finally, she forced herself to meet your eyes and noticed something beneath the anger. Tension.

Then it hit her. Not all of your anger came from the fact that she'd shown up to see you. Part of it came from thinking she'd come back to get drunk again.

"Yeah, listen... fuck..." she cursed quietly, scrambling for the right words. She knew it was only a matter of time before you'd tell her to leave you alone and walk away.

"Scatorccio, holy shit. Haven't seen you around here in ages..."

Another woman, probably another bartender, stepped out from the back room and flashed Nat a grin. Then her gaze shifted to you, and realization dawned on her face. "Oh… right. Maybe you two should go talk. I'll cover everything."

Nat's urge to smack her vanished instantly.

"Yeah. Sure." You shot the other bartender a look, and Nat hurried to explain. "I'm not drunk. I'm not going to be, I promise. I only came to talk to you."

Your expression softened. Only slightly, but even that tiny change flooded Nat with relief.

You untied your apron and motioned for her to follow. Nat hurried after you as though you were about to disappear forever. You led her outside through the employees' exit.

The cool air was a blessing. Nat could breathe again.

Gravel crunched beneath your shoes, and when she turned around, you were leaning against the wall, staring at her like she was something strange, something you didn't quite know how to handle. In her mind, Nat thought she deserved far worse. She took a hesitant step toward you.

For several long minutes, the two of you simply looked at one another.

Nat wanted to kiss every inch of your skin. Then fall to her knees and beg for your forgiveness until sunrise, even knowing she didn't deserve it.

"You look beautiful," she murmured.

Your lips pressed into a thin line.

"So where the fuck have you been?" You sighed, ignoring the compliment.

The question caught her completely off guard.

"What?" She shook her head. "Rehab. Tai didn't tell you...?"

"Rehab," you repeated skeptically.

Nat nodded slowly. You had every right not to believe her, but it still hurt. Once upon a time, you wouldn't have hesitated. Once upon a time, you trusted her.

"For a year," she confirmed. "I haven't touched drugs or alcohol in a year."

Silence settled between you.

Nat couldn't stop looking at you. Your eyes, meanwhile, wandered everywhere except her face, never lingering on her for more than a heartbeat.She still couldn't tell whether you believed her, but she tried again.

"I know you're with someone," she began quietly. "I know you probably don't even want to see me, and I wasted years of your life. I don't even..." She swallowed. "I don't even dare hope for forgiveness. I'm not here to ask you to take me back."

She paused, trying to read your expression.

Something had changed. She just couldn't tell what. It wouldn't have surprised her if you'd ignored her completely and gone right back to work.

"I just wanted to see how you were doing," she continued, her voice less certain now. "To talk. And to apologize for everything. I can't undo any of it... but you never deserved to be treated the way I treated you. Especially after everything we'd survived together. I never wanted to become my father, but somehow i did."

The last words were barely louder than a whisper.

"You're not like your father," you whispered without looking at her.

"Baby..."

You shook your head. Panic shot through Nat, thinking she'd ruined everything. Then she saw the tears gathering in your eyes, and something inside her broke.

But you kept talking.

"I tried so hard to hate you and you treated me like shit. You were acting ike an asshole. Even worse. You treated me like I was nothing for over a year, and like a complete idiot, I kept trying to help you."

Nat opened her mouth to apologize again.

You raised a hand, stopping her. You wiped away your tears, staring at the pavement as a shaky breath escaped your lips.

"And then every morning I'd wake up looking for you on the other side of the bed... even though we barely slept together anymore by the time we were still dating. And I'd cry into my pillow like a child, because you weren't there. Because my Nat wasn't there anymore. The one who would've done anything for me back when the plane crashed and we were stranded in the middle of nowhere.” You looked up.

Nat's knees nearly gave out beneath her. You started crying harder despite desperately trying not to.

"You destroyed everything. And now you show up here looking like..." You shoved her lightly in the chest. "Like you're perfect again. All that fucking... hatred I'd forced myself to feel just to survive is gone. And that's all your fault."

Tears streamed down your cheeks.

Nat didn't know whether she should turn around and leave.

Then she realized she'd abandoned you far too many times already to do it again.Even if it ended with you slapping her across the face. Even if you shoved her away.

She opened her arms and pulled you into them.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart," she whispered into your hair. "I'm so, so sorry you had to go through all of that." Her voice cracked as apology after apology tumbled from her lips.

She let you cry. She let you bury yourself in her chest. She let you hurl every cruel insult you could think of at her. She let you tell her exactly how badly she'd failed you, and not once did she interrupt to defend herself or offer an excuse.

You could've stood there all night listing every single thing she'd ever done that had shattered your heart and Nat would've kept holding you just as tightly.

"I needed you so much," you sobbed. Nat's heart broke all over again. "I missed you so much."

In that moment, Nat realized that not even the hell she'd dragged you through had been enough to erase everything you'd shared. You were hurting. You had every reason to, but you still knew that no one else in the world would ever understand you the way Nat did.

And Nat knew she wouldn’t go to a fucking rehab for anyone else.

"I love you so much," she repeated over and over. She didn't even notice when she'd started pressing soft kisses against your hair, your forehead, your cheeks, the bridge of your nose. "I fucked everything up, but I love you so much."

"Don't ever do this again..." you sobbed. "I won't survive another time."

She kissed you. It was less a kiss than the gentlest brush of lips, not the desperate reunion of two lovers who'd been apart for years.

You continued to smile at her and say hi when you saw her out and about, even as years passed and you both moved up to high school. You changed for the better, and her, of course, for the worse.

Senior year rolls around, and you've surprisingly started seeking Nat out. It started as usual- smiles and waves in passing- but then it escalated to approaching her at lunch or seeking her out on the rare occasion she actually came to class just to chat.

Natalie is convinced you're trying to trick her into getting close to you, just so you can pull the rug out from underneath her and humiliate her. She knows you're friends with Beth, whose boyfriend cheated on her with Natalie over the summer, so maybe you were trying to help her get revenge of some sort. But that wasn't you... and as much as Nat likes to pretend there's something sinister hiding underneath your patchwork crewneck and ruffle socks, she knows deep down there isn't.

Natalie realizes she has a problem the first time she notices your hands- not in a weird way, of course- just… against your water bottle during lunch, sleeves pulled over your knuckles while you laugh at something one of your friends says. Your nails are painted some chipped pastel color, and there’s a tiny silver ring on your finger that catches the cafeteria lights every time you move. Natalie notices only because she’s sitting across the courtyard pretending not to stare.

“You listening?” Kevyn asks. “Hm?”

“You’re burning your fries.” Natalie looks down, and sure enough, the cigarette between her fingers has dropped ash directly onto the paper tray.

“Shit.” Kevyn snorts while she brushes it off. When she looks back up, you’re already glancing over at her with your typical, warm smile- always with the smiling... Not fake polite smiling either- actual smiling, like seeing Natalie genuinely improves your day somehow.

It makes her instantly suspicious.

You wave a little, Natalie rolls her eyes automatically, but after a second, she lifts two fingers off the table in acknowledgment.

Rookie mistake. Because your posture somehow immediately becomes even more perfect and your smile widens, becoming even brighter, bright enough that Natalie has to look away.

“Dude,” Kevyn says slowly. “Are you flirting with her?”

Natalie almost chokes on smoke, “What?”

“With princess over there.” Natalie scoffs hard enough to sound offended. “Absolutely not.”

Kevyn raises an eyebrow. “Then why do you look constipated every time she talks to you?”

She rolls her eyes, as she always does, “Because she’s weird.”

Kevyn chuckled, taking a bite of his food, “She’s literally just nice.”

“Exactly. Weird.” But even after the conversation changes, Natalie keeps catching herself noticing stupid little things about you- the way you tuck your chin when you laugh, the soft sweaters, the fact that you always carry snacks in your backpack and hand them out without making people ask. It’s irritating.

Worse, she starts noticing other people noticing you too.

Some guy from track leans down by your locker one morning, smiling too hard while you talk. You laugh at something he says, all warm and sweet, and Natalie feels something ugly tighten unexpectedly in her stomach. Not jealousy- obviously not jealousy... More like- Annoyance.

Yeah... annoyance. Because the guy’s clearly a douchebag! That has to be it...

By lunch, Natalie’s in such a bad mood that even Taissa tells her to quit glaring at people- a rare moment of solidarity between the two as they smoke against the side of the building.

“I’m not glaring.”

“You look like you want to kill someone.” Natalie flicks ash into the dirt below her. “Maybe I do.”

Taissa follows her line of sight toward your table.

“Oh my God,” she groans, causing Natalie to stiffen immediately. “What?”

“You seriously have a problem with y/n?” Natalie scoffs immediately, “Please.”

Taissa raises an eyebrow. “You’ve been staring at her for like ten minutes.”

“I’m staring because she’s impossible not to look at.” The words slip out before Natalie can stop them. Tai goes quiet for half a second, a smirk growing on her lips, “Wow.”

Natalie squeezes her eyes shut, wincing slightly as she backtracks. “Not like that, Jesus Christ...”

Taissa’s grin starts forming instantly. “Oh my God.”

“She just-” Natalie gestures vaguely toward your table, where you’re animatedly talking with your hands, sweater sleeves hanging over your knuckles. “She stands out.”

“Because she’s cute?” Natalie rolls her eyes hard. “Because she looks like she belongs in a trix yogurt commercial.”

Taissa laughs and Natalie chuckles with her, taking another drag from her cigarette, somewhat irritated with herself for even entertaining this conversation.

“She’s too nice,” she mutters, “Nobody’s actually like that.”

Tai hums knowingly, “Right.”

“And she keeps talking to me for some reason.”

“Maybe she likes you.” Natalie snorts so hard she almost coughs. “Yeah, okay.”

Across the cafeteria, you glance over at that exact moment and smile automatically when you notice her. Natalie looks away first.

“Shut up,” she says flatly before Taissa can even open her mouth.

Natalie hates being touched unexpectedly (most people do!), so when someone grabs lightly at the sleeve of her flannel in the hallway, her first instinct is irritation. Then she turns around and sees you.

“Oh,” you say softly, immediately letting go. “Sorry.”

Natalie stares at you for a second- your hair’s messy from the wind outside, and you’re holding a folded worksheet against your chest.

“You left this in class,” you explain, gesturing it forward for her to take. Of course, you followed her down the hallway for homework, because apparently that’s just who you are...

Natalie takes the paper carefully. “You could’ve just let me fail.”

“You say that every time.” you roll your eyes playfully and Nat would say that's the most attitude she's ever seen you give anyone

“Because it’s true every time.” You smile a little, shifting your weight on your feet. There’s this thing you do when you’re nervous around her-your fingers twist together unconsciously like you’re winding invisible string around them- Natalie’s noticed that recently, along with too many other things.

“You skipped lunch again,” you blurt out suddenly, causing Natalie to blink. “What?”

“You didn’t eat.” you state as if it's just a casual statement.

“That’s creepy.”

You frown ever so slightly before defending, “It’s observant.”

“You observe me?”

You realize what you said a second too late, face warming instantly. “I mean- not like... you in particular, I just- notice things?”

Natalie should make fun of you for that. Instead, she finds herself weirdly stuck on the idea that you pay attention to her at all. Not because you want gossip or because you’re scared of her- you just… notice.

Natalie sighs deeply, “You don’t have to do this, you know”

“Do what?”

“Keep trying.” Your expression softens in that awful, sincere way again.

“I’m not trying that hard.” There’s no way you understand what that does to her- how dangerous it feels when someone acts like caring about Natalie Scatorccio is effortless.

The hallway buzzes around you with lockers slamming and people yelling, but Natalie suddenly feels hyperaware of everything about you standing there. The strawberry lip gloss. The typical, oversized cardigan sleeves covering half your hands. The tiny star stickers on your notebook.

Cute.

The thought appears suddenly and cleanly in her mind. Cute, cute, cute. Natalie immediately gets defensive with herself.

You’re still talking, completely unaware of the crisis currently unfolding in her brain. “-and I saved you a cookie from study hall because you left and Jeff took, like, four before you came back-”

“You saved me a cookie?” Natalie's brows furrow, one raising slightly in genuine astonishment at your actions

“Yeah?” she stares at you like you’ve spoken another language. Nobody ever saves her things... You blink at her reaction. “Do you want it?”

“Obviously.” You laugh softly and dig through your bag before placing the cookie carefully into her hand like it’s something important. Your fingers brush hers for maybe half a second, and it shouldn’t matter... it shouldn't matter... but it matters enough that Natalie forgets how to speak for an embarrassing amount of time.

“Sorry, is it... okay?” you look between Natalie's emotionally constipated expression and the cookie. Natalie clears her throat roughly. “Fine.”

You smile again. God. That smile... Natalie watches you walk away afterward, cookie still in her hand. She lets her head fall back with a slight a groan,

“What the fuck...”

Natalie decides that she has officially had enough of you after running into you at a party. In all her time of knowing you and going out in Wiskayok, she has never seen you at any sort of function like this

You look deeply out of place- too soft for this house, and Natalie tells herself she should ignore you. Instead, twenty minutes later, she somehow ends up standing beside you in the kitchen while someone argues loudly in the next room.

“oh- hi!” you say brightly when you notice her.

Natalie snorts. “hey.”

You grin into your drink. There’s glitter on your cheekbone, Natalie notices, because apparently her brain has decided to become the world’s most irritating microscope whenever you’re nearby.

“You look pretty,” you say absentmindedly, briefly peeking over the rim of your cup. Natalie freezes, and you follow immediately after, eyes widening slightly like you didn’t mean to say it out loud. The silence that follows is catastrophic, as Natalie feels heat crawl up her neck almost instantly.

“Are you drunk?” she asks.

“A little.”

“Clearly.”

You duck your head, embarrassed. “Sorry.”

But Natalie can’t stop thinking about it as she takes a long sip from her drink to buy herself time. Pretty. Nobody calls her pretty casually- not like that. Usually it’s "hot" or "sexy" or some gross comment shouted from a car window. "Pretty" feels different... more dangerous.

“You don’t have to apologize,” she mutters finally. You glance back up at her carefully, humming and nodding before going back to staring nervously into your cup.

“You are, though.” There it is again- that awful honesty. Natalie suddenly becomes intensely aware of herself- her smudged eyeliner, the chain around her neck, the cigarette tucked behind her ear.

And worse, she becomes aware of you looking at her- not judging, not mocking, not waiting for her to fuck up so you can point it out and laugh about it- just looking, like you actually like what you see.

It makes something nervous twist low in her stomach.

Someone shouts your name from the living room, and you look away for a second. Natalie exhales slowly through her nose as the moment breaks

When you turn back, you smile at her again- smaller this time. Shy, almost. Cute. The thought hits Natalie so hard she physically looks away.

"I'll see you around, Nat- have a good night! Oh- and be safe!"

It's a torrential downpour when Natalie begins to accept the shift.

“Nat!” Natalie pauses halfway down the school parking lot, cigarette tucked between her lips as she turns toward the voice. Your car is idling a few spaces away, window rolled all the way down despite the rain blowing in through it. You lean across the passenger seat to look at her properly, eyebrows pinched together in concern. Water drips steadily from the ends of Natalie’s hair already. The walk home is gonna suck.

“Do you need a ride home?” you ask sweetly, eyes wide with concern.

Natalie blinks once. “Uhm… no, I’m good.”

You glance pointedly toward the sidewalk beyond the parking lot. “Are you walking?”

“Yeah, I always do-”

"It’s raining.” Natalie almost makes a sarcastic comment over you pointing out the obvious, but she just shrugs one shoulder like that settles it, “And?”

“And just get in.” Natalie huffs out a laugh, more defensive than amused. “Y/n, really, I’m-”

“Get. In.” You point firmly at the passenger door, and the sheer seriousness on your face catches her off guard enough that she actually stops arguing for a second. This is ridiculous. YOU are ridiculous. is what she decides.

Your windshield wipers squeak frantically back and forth while you stare at her like this is somehow an emergency. Natalie looks away first, taking a drag from her cigarette to buy herself time.

“You know I’m wet, right?” she says finally. “Like, soaked.”

“That’s kind of what rain does to people- hence why I'm telling you to get in.”

Natalie narrows her eyes slightly. “You always this bossy?”

A tiny smile pulls at your mouth. “Only with stubborn people who refuse help.”

Something uncomfortable flips over in her chest, and she immediately decides she hates that feeling. With a muttered curse under her breath, Natalie yanks open the passenger door and slides inside. The car smells faintly like vanilla and laundry detergent. Cute. Of course it does.

You reach over without thinking and tug a crumpled sweatshirt from the backseat. “Here.”

Natalie stares down at it in confusion. It’s soft-looking, pale blue, probably expensive, “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Dry off?”

“You just carry extra clothes around?” You shrug, suddenly looking a little embarrassed. “I get cold easily.”

Natalie snorts quietly despite herself. Outside, rain pounds against the windshield hard enough to blur the entire parking lot silver-gray. For a second, neither of you says anything.

"What're you doing here still anyways?"

"I have tutoring after school Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday," you look over your shoulder as you back out, maneuvering your black Corvette out of the school parking lot. Natalie can't help but admire your side profile as you focus- your glossy lips slightly parted as the tip of your tongue pokes out between your teeth.

"Nice car you got..." she shifts her gaze to the dashboard as she fidgets with one of the rings she's wearing. You give an amused hum and glance at her briefly

"Thanks, it's my dad's- I would never drive something like this if I had the option" Natalie's eyes widen, honestly shocked at your opinion

"What? I would kill to have this car!" You glance at her with equally wide eyes, taken aback, but amused nonetheless, by her enthusiasm.

"Really? You know a lot about cars?"

"I know enough to tell you that you're driving one of the nicest cars on the market right now"

"Yeah... that's true." but that apparently doesn't satisfy her, seeing as she scoffs and shifts her body to face you more.

"Then what would be your dream car, Princess?" you can't help but blush at the nickname. You chew on the inside of your cheek thoughtfully for a second, fingers tapping lightly against the steering wheel.

“I think I’d rather have something older,” you admit. “Like… one of those vintage Volkswagen vans.”

Natalie stares at you, “You’re kidding.”

You laugh immediately. “What? They’re cute!”

“They go, like, thirty miles an hour.”

“They have personality.”

“This car has personality.”

“This car has a cocaine problem.” Natalie barks out an actual laugh at that- loud and surprised enough that both of you seem caught off guard by it. You grin instantly, looking entirely too pleased with yourself for causing it.

The rain continues hammering against the windshield while the heater hums softly between you. Natalie can feel warmth slowly returning to her hands, helped slightly by the stupidly soft sweatshirt currently bunched in her lap. She shouldn’t be this comfortable here.

Usually, being around people feels like work- trying to predict what version of her they want, how long until they get tired of her, how long until they leave. But with you, things just… happen. It makes her suspicious enough to keep poking at you.

“You said you were coming from tutoring?”

“Yup!”

“Huh.” Natalie glances over at you again. “I always assumed you were naturally the smartest person in the room.” She smirks slightly. “Guess even little miss perfect needs help sometimes too.”

You blink before laughing softly, something shy and kind of embarrassed, almost.

“I was actually the one tutoring someone else,” you admit. “But I’m definitely not perfect, and I do spend way more time than I probably should studying, so I promise—”

“I’m just teasing you…”

“Oh.” You glance at her quickly, cheeks pinkening a little, while Natalie immediately looks back out the window before she can think too hard about how cute that reaction was.

A few beats of silence pass, aside from the low volume of the radio and the rain against your car

"Uhm, where am I dropping you off at?"

"Oh, yeah," she gives you her address and you continue driving, vaguely familiar with the area.

“Oh.”

You glance at her quickly, cheeks pinkening a little, while Natalie immediately looks back out the window before she can think too hard about how cute that reaction was.

A few beats of silence pass, aside from the low volume of the radio and the rain against your car.

“Uhm, where am I dropping you off at?”

“Oh, yeah.” Natalie gives you her address, and you continue driving, vaguely familiar with the area. The farther you get from school, the quieter things become- streetlights grow sparse, houses spread farther apart. Neither of you says much as Natalie watches your hands on the steering wheel, while your eyes stay on the road. By the time the entrance to the trailer park comes into view, the rain has eased into a steady drizzle.

“There,” Natalie says, pointing ahead. You nod and slow down, then Natalie notices you're actually preparing to drive all the way inside.

“Wait.” You glance over immediately. “What?”

“Just pull over here.” Your eyebrows knit together. “Here? outside the park?”

“Yeah.” You hesitate, then guide the Corvette onto the gravel shoulder near the edge of the park. The engine stays running and for a moment neither of you moves.

“You don't want me to drive you the rest of the way? I'm sure it's like- super muddy by now...”

Natalie shrugs. “Not really.” You study her face for a second before nodding. “Okay.”

The answer comes too easily- no questions, no pushing- just okay. And Nat honestly can't tell if that makes her feel better or worse at this point

The rain taps softly against the roof, the heater hums, and neither of you makes any sort of move to end this interaction. Instead, Natalie sits there picking at one of the rings on her fingers, staring out through the rain-streaked windshield.

“You're weird, you know that?” You laugh quietly. “I've heard that before.”

“No, I mean it.” The smile on your face falters slightly. “Why do you keep doing this?”

“Doing what?” your shoulder sag slightly, and you're already taking on a kicked puppy look that has Nat wishing she had just walked home

“This.” She gestures vaguely between the two of you. “Talking to me. Looking for me at school. Giving me rides home and shit.”

Your brows furrow as you blink. Natalie notices your grip on the steering wheel to tighten ever so slightly as you tense with an anxious confusion, “Because... we're friends?”

Natalie lets out a short, humorless laugh. “You think so?”

The question hangs in the air, and Nat immediately notices something shift in your expression. Not dramatic, but just enough for her to realize it wasn't okay to tease anymore.

“Oh.”

Natalie looks away first, rolling her eyes, trying to push down her newfound guilt, “Come on, y/n.”

“No, yeah, I don't- I don't know why I said that... I guess,” You sound so... far away, like you're processing each individual word as you say it. You suddenly seem very interested in the steering wheel as you take a slow breath and quickly spare a glance in Nat's direction, forcing the tiniest smile on your face as a formality, “Forget I said that.”

“That's not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?” There's no anger in your voice whatsoever. If anything, you sound embarrassed, which somehow makes Natalie feel worse. Nat rubs at the back of her neck, still avoiding looking at you altogether

“I don't know.” You give a small nod, the kind people do when they're pretending something doesn't bother them.

“Okay.” The silence that follows is awful. Outside, rain continues drumming against the car. Inside, the warmth suddenly feels stifling.

Natalie hates this- the way you're shrinking into yourself and the fact that she caused it- But mostly she hates that she doesn't know how to explain what she actually means.

“It's just...” She exhales sharply. “I don't get it.”

You glance over. “Get what?”

“Why you're like this.”

Your eyebrows pull together, frown deepening- Natalie's chest tightens as she think she might even see a sheen of tears start to gloss over your eyes- oh god, please no.

“What do you mean?” you mumble, pitifully

She tries not to take her frustration out on you, but Natalie can't help her semi-harsh tone as she tries to get to the point, “Why are you being nice to me?”

The confusion on your face only frustrates her more, “Because I want to be?”

“No, but why?”

You stare, seeming to begin to become somewhat overwhelmed by her lack of understanding, but Natalie presses on, “Seriously, y/n, you have friends- good ones! People actually like you.”

“People like you too-” Natalie laughs bitterly at that. “Right.”

“I'm serious.”

“You shouldn't be.” Your gaze drops, just for a second, and suddenly Natalie hears how harsh she sounds, but once she starts talking, she can't seem to stop.

“Most people don't just decide they wanna hang around me for no reason.”

“Nat-”

“No, seriously.” She shakes her head. “What's the angle here?”

Your expression falls completely. “What?”

“What do you want?” It's so sharp and honestly, mean how she's talking to you- Nat knows this- but it's only irking her more that she even has to spell it out for you in the first place.

“There isn't one.” You sound so sad and sincere, and she wants to believe you so badly, but her own allegiance to isolation and self sabotage refuses to let her do so

Natalie scoffs again, elbow resting on the door frame near the handle, “Sure.”

“There isn't.” you stand a bit firmer in your words, but there's still a hint of submission in them, like you're scared to raise your voice at her.

“You expect me to believe that?” The hurt flashes across your face so quickly that Natalie almost misses it

“Okay,” You look down at your lap. “That's what you think?”

The question comes out so quiet- so disappointed- and Natalie immediately wishes she could take the whole conversation back. She honestly wishes she just walked away from you in the first place and never even accepted the ride home- that would've spared her from this entire guilt-filled interaction.

You let out a small, embarrassed laugh, “God.”

Natalie peeks over as you shake your head once, a small, forced watery smile on your face. “I'm sorry- I didn't realize I was making you uncomfortable-”

she cuts you off “You weren't-”

You battle back softly in return, “It's okay.”

You turn to unlock the door, “You should probably go before the rain gets worse.”

Something unpleasant rapidly twists in Natalie's stomach... Because suddenly you're pulling away. You're not throwing sarcastic jabs at her, or spouting insults about how much she sucks, and you're definitely not backtracking and making her feel like shit for not giving you what you wanted...

You're just... retreating.

“Y/n,” Natalie stares at the dashboard- anywhere but your face.

“I didn't mean it like that.” You don't say anything, which means she has to keep talking. Great.

“I just...” She exhales. “People usually want something.” The words come out quieter this time, more honest.

“That's all.” For the first time since the conversation started, you really look at her. The defensiveness. The suspicion. The way she's practically bracing for impact.

Understanding slowly replaces the hurt on your face, as you nod once “Oh.”

Natalie swallows, “I wasn't trying to be an asshole.”

A tiny smile appears, “Could've fooled me.”

Natalie groans immediately, “Yeah, alright.”

That earns a small laugh from you as you glance back down at your hands, kneading together in your lap. The tension eases slightly into something softer, but still present and awkward. After a moment, you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

“For the record,” you say quietly, “I don't want anything from you.”

Natalie looks over- your cheeks are flushed again, from embarrassment or the heat in the car, she can't tell.

“I just like talking to you.” There it is... that sincerity... that awful, impossible sincerity. Natalie looks away before you can see the way it affects her.

“That's still weird,” she mutters, but this time, your smile grows as you shrug shyly, “Maybe.”

And this time, when the silence settles between you, it doesn't feel quite so heavy.

Nothing is really different. Well- everything is different after you drove Natalie home that day- but it doesn't really seem like it... in a way? The subtle shifts are so small that nobody else would notice it- not even you!

You're standing by your locker before first period, digging through a folder while talking to one of your classmates, when Natalie spots you from halfway down the hall. Usually, she'd keep walking, but instead, she lifts her chin once, a silent acknowledgement.

Your reaction is automatic, face brightening immediately, posture straightening, disposition becoming warmer overall. Natalie has to fight the urge to roll her eyes, but she also finds herself having to bite back a small as well.

You wave, of course, and Natalie gives you two fingers in response before continuing down the hallway.

By lunch, she's already regretting it, because apparently now you've decided this means you're allowed to sit beside her.

"You mind?" you ask, tray balanced in your hands.

Natalie glances at the empty seat next to her, then raises a brow at you. "Seriously?"

Your wide, doe-eyed expressions fall immediately as you pout dramatically, and Natalie can't help the snort she lets out before taking a bite of her food.

"I'm not coming to bother you for no reason, I just wanted to ask you about the psych homework-" this pulls a snicker from Van, "You wanted to ask Nat about homework?"

You finally acknowledge the others sitting at the table- a handful of the varsity soccer girls, who you're all pretty familiar with.

Before you could respond, Natalie is clearing her throat and drawing your attention back to her, "What'd you need?"

You take that as permission to sit, and even after you're done "bothering" her, for some reason, Natalie doesn't tell you to leave. Neither does anyone else. Tai notices, Shauna notices, even Jackie Notices- The looks they give Natalie from across the table as you pop up and dash away a few minutes before the end of the period are insufferable.

"She's so cute- like a little bunny!" Natalie groans into her hands, "Jax you can't be serious, right now"

Little things... it's always something little with you that alters her brain chemistry.

"You're bleeding." Natalie looks up from her cigarette to see you're pointing toward her knuckles, where, sure enough, there's a fresh scrape, she doesn't even remember getting.

"It's fine."

"It doesn't look fine."

"It's a scratch." You stare at her with an unimpressed brow raised, then, without saying a word, you reach into your backpack and pull out a handful of bandaids. Of course, you carry bandaids on you. Natalie can't help the chuckle that escapes her.

"What?"

"You carry those around?" You look genuinely confused. "Doesn't everybody?"

"No."

"Oh."

The two of you stand there awkwardly for a second, then you hold one out. Natalie could refuse- you're expecting her to- she should refuse, at least by her own standards. Instead, she sighs dramatically and sticks out her hand.

Your face lights up, but you try to hide it, settling for a more satisfied glimmer rather than an excited beam- It's ridiculous how pleased you look.

"You're acting like I just solved world peace."

"You accepted help. That's practically the same thing to me"

Natalie huffed out a laugh, rolling her eyes affectionately (though she'd be caught dead before admitting such) "Don't get used to it."

"Oh, I already am." You teased back, slightly surprising Nat with a small development in confidence. She leaves the Band-Aid on for the rest of the day.

You talk while she smokes outside before school. You walk together between classes if you're heading in the same direction. Sometimes you show up at her lunch table, sometimes Natalie finds herself looking for you first.

It's subtle. Microscopic. But it's there.

Friday afternoon, she's leaning against a wall outside the gym when you appear beside her. "Hi."

"Hi." You smile, and Natalie waits for the rest of your approach.

"...That's it?" she asks. "What?"

"You came all the way over here just to say hi?"

Your smile grows. "Maybe."

Natalie shakes her head. "Weirdo."

"Asshole." She tilts her chin down at this to hide her amused grin, finding you even cuter when you bite back,

"You like it."

"I do." The answer comes too fast, too honest- your face immediately begins to burn, and Nat feels something warm settle low in her chest. Before either of you can say anything else, the bell rings, and students immediately start flooding into the hallway around you.

"See you later, Nat." You take a step backward.

"Yeah." You start walking away, then turn to look angelically over your shoulder and toss her a wave, before Natalie watches you disappear into the crowd. And for once, she allows the smile to stay on her face as she continues her day.

The following week, Natalie is sitting on the hood of Kevyn's car after school when she spots you crossing the parking lot. You're busy trying to balance three textbooks, your backpack, and a paper coffee cup- It's a disaster waiting to happen.

Natalie watches it unfold for approximately five seconds before one of the books slips- you catch it. Then the coffee starts tipping- you save that too. Then another book starts sliding...

"Jesus Christ," Natalie mutters.

"What?" Kevyn asks.

"Nothing." Across the lot, you're still fighting for your life against gravity. Natalie can't help it.

"Hey, Princess!" Your head immediately snaps up. The smile that appears when you spot her is embarrassingly immediate, face shifting from wide-eyed panic to comfort, familiarity.

"Hi, Nat!"

One of the books slips again. Natalie groans. "How are you this bad at carrying things?"

You look down at the pile in your arms, then back at her with a tired smile and tilt of your head. "I'm managing."

The coffee wobbles dangerously. Natalie raises an eyebrow. You glance at it. "...Mostly."

She snorts, the sound surprising both of you, causing your smile to grow. Which is obviously annoying, because now Natalie can practically see you realizing in real time that she's teasing you instead of brushing you off. You hurry over anyway.

"Hi," you say again, stopping in front of her.

she raises her brows, amused, yet trying not to seem as such "Hi."

"How was your day?" Natalie eyes the stack in your arms. "Better than yours, it looks like..."

You laugh. "God, you're mean."

"You're carrying six hundred pounds of paper!"

You roll your eyes dramatically, "It's three textbooks."

"Same thing." You shift your weight and nearly lose one again, but Natalie reaches out automatically to steady it. The movement surprises her as much as it surprises you, and for a second, both of you freeze. Then Natalie immediately pulls her hand back,

"There." You blink and hover, "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." A grin tugs at your mouth. Too knowing. Natalie points at it immediately.

"Whatever you're thinking, stop."

"I'm not thinking anything."

"Liar." You laugh again. Fuck. She likes that laugh way too much.

"Okay," you admit. "Maybe I'm thinking something."

"Terrifying."

"I just think it's nice when you're sweet to me, that's all." you shrug with a bit of a playful grin, to which Natalie barks out a laugh

"Watch it." You beam- like actually beam the most glittering smile she's ever seen. Like she'd handed you a winning lottery ticket instead of a half-assed joke. The reaction is so ridiculous that Natalie finds herself smiling despite every effort not to.

Natalie doesn't mean to end up alone with you- at least that's what she tells herself. Practice let out about 20 minutes early, and she'd only stayed behind because she couldn't find her lighter. That's it, really nothing to do with the fact that she knew your tutoring sessions ended around the same time. Nothing to do with the fact that she'd started unconsciously memorizing your schedule- definitely not.

She's sitting on the bleachers behind the school when she hears footsteps approaching.

"You know smoking's bad for you, right?" Natalie doesn't even bother looking up.

"Wow. Really?" You laugh, the sound so familiar enough now that it immediately gives away who you are.

"I figured somebody should tell you."

"You're about six years late." You climb the bleachers and sit down beside her- not too close, but not far away at all either. For a while, neither of you says anything. The sun is setting behind the football field, casting everything in gold and orange.

You pull your cardigan sleeves over your hands, and of course, Natalie notices. "Cold?"

You shrug, "A little."

She snorts, "Then why are you sitting outside?"

"Wanted to."

"That's stupid."

"You're outside too."

"Yeah, but I'm stupid." That earns a laugh, leaving Natalie smiling despite herself.

"You know," you say after a moment, a teasing lilt already taking over your tone, "you've been nicer lately."

Natalie groans immediately, "Oh my God."

"What??"

"Don't say things like that." You grin and stare back into the distance of the field, "It's true."

"I literally insult you every day."

"Affectionately." Natalie turns her full body to stare at you.

"Affectionately?"

You nod, "Affectionately."

"You're delusional."

"Maybe." Your smile softens slightly, "Or maybe I'm right."

For some reason, that makes Natalie nervous, all because you really hit the nail right on the head. A few weeks ago, she would've brushed you off and walked away, probably given you some sarcastic answer and left it at that.

Now she catches herself looking for you in hallways, saving you a seat in classes she used to skip, making jokes just to hear you laugh. It's really become a problem. And judging by the look on your face, you know it too. The realization settles between you quietly, and either of you looks away.

"You're staring," Natalie mutters.

Your smile quirks up a bit, "You started it."

"No, I didn't." Natalie is hyper aware of how the sunset catches in your eyes and bathes you in a warm glow. You're fully grinning now, "You absolutely did."

Natalie suddenly becomes very aware of how close you're sitting. Close enough that she can smell your lavender shampoo. Close enough to count your freckles and moles if she really wanted to. Close enough that looking away feels harder than it should. Your gaze flickers briefly downward, then immediately back up. The movement is tiny, but it's noted, and something in Natalie's chest immediately goes haywire.

"Hey, princess?." Your body tenses ever so slightly to be noticeable, cheeks flushing.

"Yeah, Nat?"

"You're looking at me like that again."

Your gaze flickers down again shyly as you laugh softly, then glance back up with a glimmer, "How am I looking at you?"

Natalie opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. Because honestly?She doesn't have an answer. You're just looking at her- like you always do. Like she's somebody worth looking at...

The thought hits harder than it should, and for a few seconds, neither of you says anything. The world feels strangely quiet, aside from the distant traffic and the sound of your breathing.

"Hey," you say softly, gathering Nat's attention. Your expression has shifted from blithe, confident teasing back to that semi-anxious, unsure energy you used to carry around her, like you're waiting for some sort of permission.

"Hey." Your eyes flick to her mouth again. This time, neither of you pretends not to notice. The distance between you suddenly feels very small, very easy to cross. Natalie doesn't overthink it- if she does, she'll talk herself out of it- so instead she leans forward, just enough to brush her lips against yours

Your gaze flickers down again shyly as you laugh softly, then glance back up with a glimmer. "How am I looking at you?"

Natalie opens her mouth, but nothing comes out.

Because honestly?

She doesn't have an answer.

You're just looking at her—like you always do. Like she's somebody worth looking at.

The thought hits harder than it should, and for a few seconds, neither of you says anything. The world feels strangely quiet, aside from the distant traffic and the sound of your breathing.

"Hey," you say softly, gathering Nat's attention.

Your expression has shifted from blithe, confident teasing back to that semi-anxious, unsure energy you used to carry around her, like you're waiting for some sort of permission.

"Hey." Your eyes flick to her mouth again. This time, neither of you pretends not to notice. The distance between you suddenly feels very small, very easy to cross. Natalie doesn't overthink it- if she does, she'll talk herself out of it- so instead she leans forward, just enough to brush her lips against yours

You're frozen, totally stiff, and Natalie almost backs down, then you begin to kiss her back, so softly and carefully, like you're scared the moment will break and fade away if you push for too much.

Natalie's hand finds the hem of your top as they land on your waist. She uses her other hand to push you back slightly, has you lie down on the chilled metal bleachers. She hovers over you, caressing the skin underneath the hem of your shirt, as your hands come up to rest on her cheeks.

She bites your bottom lip, pulling a shocked but pleased hum from you, allowing her tongue further access into your mouth. The second kiss lasts longer. Not rushed in any way. Just warm and sensual- the kind of warmth that makes her chest feel strangely light.

When you finally pull back, it's only far enough to look at her with an impossible smile and your typical doe eyes, that now have a new sparkle to them. And then, to Natalie's horror, your eyes start watering.

"Oh my God."

You immediately cover your face, "No!"

She lets out an amused giggle against her will, "Are you crying?"

"No!!"

"You are absolutely crying." You sit up in an instant, one leg slightly draped over hers.

"I am not crying!" You're laughing now, which only makes your argument significantly less convincing.

Natalie stares at you in disbelief, "Princess."

"Oh, shut up." A laugh escapes her before she can stop it, as she continues to caress your waist. The sound seems to make you grin even harder, which then causes Natalie to only want to kiss you again, and even harder

"You kissed me," you say, like you've just discovered a miracle.

Natalie groans, an affectionate, exhausted grin on her face. "There it is."

"What??" you swing yourself to be full, mirroring her seated position, facing the mostly set sun.

"You're being weird-"

You cut her off with an incredulous scoff, balking at her momentarily, "I'm allowed to be weird over this!"

She hums and gives you a look that says, "are you sure about that?" enjoying your dropped jaw and overall offended expression. You bump your shoulder against hers, and she bumps back, leaving you both giggling against each other.

The sunset has nearly disappeared now, leaving the football field washed in soft evening light. For a while, you both just sit there, close enough that your shoulders touch, neither one in any hurry to leave.

After a minute, Natalie feels your head carefully settle against her shoulder. Tentatively, like you're giving her the chance to complain. She rolls her eyes, and even though you can't see it, she's almost sure you feel it somehow. She reaches her hand to pull your head down fully against her shoulder, while shifting slightly so you're more comfortable.

You immediately go still. Natalie pretends not to notice.

The last of the sunlight has faded behind the trees, leaving everything washed in soft blues and golds. Somewhere in the distance, a car door slams, crickets have started up already, and for once, neither of you feels any urgency to fill the silence.

Your shoulder presses lightly against hers, embracing the warmth and newfound comfort. Natalie lets herself enjoy it for a minute before glancing down, seeing absurdly content you look, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. You catch it immediately- of course you do. Your own smile grows in response, and suddenly Natalie understands exactly why people spoil you.

She shakes her head and nudges yours lightly with her own, the motion earning a quiet laugh from you, then another, and soon you're both smiling for no real reason at all.

As the evening grows darker, your hand eventually finds its way between the two of you, resting against the bleacher without much thought. Natalie's gaze drops to it, and she hesitates for all of three seconds, then hooks her pinky around yours. Your breath catches, smile turning impossibly soft as you somehow manage to melt further into her side.

You drive her home that night and make out a little more in your backseat before you remind her that you do in fact, have a curfew. You call each other over the phone multiple times a week now, after not-so-casually hinting at wanting Natalie's number. And now Nat hopes and prays she never runs into you when she's out at a party, just so she can call you after and make sure you're tucked in bed safely (and so she can come visit you after).

Now you’re watching yourself get split in two as the position sends blood rushing to your head, breasts bouncing with each deep thrust of Clark’s strap.

She hovers over you, hot breath fanning your face as she pumps in and out.

“Golly, sweetheart. Look at you… so pretty.”

She leans in to mark your neck with more hickeys, as if you already didn’t have enough of them.c

You cry out when the tip hits that sweet spot of yours, legs wrapped around her waist.

Her fingernails dig into the sides of your thighs as yours sink into her shoulder blades, slightly fearful that you might still fall, despite her tight grip on you.

Clark watches your back arch while you choke on your own moans, her pace completely and utterly relentless.

You try lifting your head to see her, but she shakes her head no. She wraps one of her hands around your neck, fingers pressing into your skin, attempting to keep you down.

“No, sweetie. Just let yourself go and feel it for me, alright?”

You nod, the dizziness returning as she continues to stretch you out.

The wet sounds of your whimpers and skin slapping together echo throughout your bedroom.

“Oh, fuck, Clark!”

She spreads your legs wider, causing your brain to short-circuit before pulling out just to push back in harshly.

Clark buries herself in the crook of your neck, her kisses becoming sloppier, groaning as if she could feel you tightening around the toy.

“Come on, pretty girl… can feel you milking me…”

Your body reacts to each surge she gives you, letting out a loud cry when the strap hits so profound that you feel it in your lower gut.

“Y-yes Clark, please, it’s so good.”

She nibbles on your earlobe, sensually whispering into it, “Yeah? Are you close… Can you do that for me?”

A gasp escapes your lips in response, your mind hazing as the tension within your core dares to snap—washing over you like a wave.

Clark hovers over to your mouth to kiss you, swallowing your soft cries as she doubles down on her pace, driving the strap further into you.

You close your eyes momentarily and see nothing but stars, but then her hand lightly grips your jaw, forcing them open again.

“No, sweetie… Eyes on me when you come.”

The tension heightens, making it almost impossible to breathe. “Oh, Clark— I’m so close… please.”

She smirks, her eyes darkening with affection.

“Oh, I know… I got you, just come for me, alright?”

You shudder as she orders your compliance, fucking you harder. The pleasure finally breaks, and your world shatters into pure, blinding color. You sob into her mouth as the orgasm crashes over you, melting your body into warm jelly.

She lets out a low, gravelly groan at the sensation, her pace faltering as she slowly rides out your climax.

She keeps you completely still against the mattress, holding you through your heavy tremors beneath your thighs.

In your afterglow haze, you whine at the feeling of loss as the strap slowly draws out of you.

Clark teasingly pouts, her face flushed and her blue eyes incredibly soft.

“Don't cry, babygirl, I'm right here.”

She presses a gentle, lingering kiss to your sweaty forehead, brushing back loose strands behind your ear.