Young Nat Scatorccio x Reader
Summary: you go over to Nats house after school and find yourselves so distracted neither of you notice her dad coming home
Tw: readers internalized homophobia, cursing, violent altercation, use of slurs, panic attack description(ish)
Wc: 1370 (edited version)
It’s 96 degrees in New Jersey the day Natalie Scatorccios father accidentally kills himself.
It’s 96 degrees in New Jersey the day you and Nat start unofficially dating.
Sometimes you used to wonder if it was your fault somehow- the dying. But the day had no traces of sinister energy, only thick June heat that signified the beginning of summer and the end of Sophomore year. You hadn’t known Nat for very long. Tryouts for the Yellowjackets had been a week ago and, before that, she was just some girl in the hallway who listened to weird music and wore cool clothes. Now, she intimidated you, intrigued you, and confused you, just a little. But you hadn’t made many real friends since you moved last year and, well, you liked her. Enough that when she asked if you wanted to come over after the final day of school, you said yes.
You trail behind her through the dust of the trailer park, taking in your surroundings- a wilted plant, a waving neighbor, a sweltering blue sky. When you reach what you assumed to be her trailer, she stops short and turns abruptly. “Ok, we have to be super quiet,” she says nervously, glancing down towards some unknown point, “my mom is probably asleep and she wouldn’t… she doesn’t really like it when people come around,”
“That’s fine,” you say simply with a slight smile. She looks up grinning, though apprehension still lingers in her eyes. She nods and you climb the stairs together.
Nat lightly eases open the door. Sure enough, her mom is asleep on the couch, the glow of an old movie flickering on the small tv screen. Nat grabs your wrist as you slip down a narrow hallway towards her room. She quietly shuts the door and you hear her breath out a sigh of relief. She turns to you with a smile that makes your heart jump and crosses to the tape deck, rifling through cassettes. You definitely don’t have the same music taste, but you find yourself unable to care. It was too fascinating to see Natalie like this: smiling, relaxed, and putting on a tape in her room. You feel your heart begin to race.
“What,” Nat asks, looking over at you staring.
“Nothing,” you say back, quickly looking for something else to talk about. “I like your posters.”
“Thanks,” she says, flopping down onto her bed before grabbing your hand to pull you down next to her. “ Sooooo…. do you think we’ll make the team,” she asks, propping her hand on her chin, with an almost shit eating grin.
“I know you will,” you groan. “They need like 4 midfielders and you were so good, I missed like half of the goals.”
“Well then it’s a good thing Sweepers hardly ever have to score,” Natalie says. You roll your eyes but smile back at her.
“You know, I wouldn’t have taken you for a soccer player,” you say, sitting up to face her.
“What’s that supposed to mean,” she asks with a touch of sarcasm.
“I don’t know, you don’t seem like the type for organized school sports,” you say. When you first met Natalie, she seemed like she didn’t give two shits about anything, but as you got to know her she surprised you all the time. She played soccer, she cried at movies where the dogs died, and she was actually pretty smart.
“I’m not really. I guess I just like soccer.” She says it thoughtfully, as though she hadn’t figured it out herself and let her head fall back to the mattress. Her dark hair is splayed out around her face and her cheeks are flushed slightly from the heat.
Suddenly the room feels small.
“You’re staring,” she says, though she sounds more nervous than teasing.
“Am not,” you say, trying to laugh it off and looking down at your hands.
“Are too,” she argues back, like you’re toddlers again.
“Well you’re blushing,” you shoot back, your throat beginning to feel thick. Bees in your stomach and concrete in your esophagus suffocate you at the thought of this conversation.
“Well, it’s like a million degrees out, Y/n,” Nat mutters, licking her lips. Your eyes track the movement and she notices. Her gaze flickers back to yours and the air feels thick and buzzing. She’s watching you intently now. You should look away. You should say something. But you don’t.
Instead, Nat props her elbow underneath her, sitting back up. You can see her eyelashes clumping around her mascara and the way her breath disturbs the dark hairs farming her face, just a little
“I kinda want to kiss you,” Nat says quietly and quickly, avoiding eye contact.
Your heart stops all together.
“I’m, uh, well… I’m not.. uh I’m not gay,” you stutter.
“Okay,” Nat shrugs, as if that isn’t the point.
“Okay,” you echo. But you still find yourself leaning in, slowly, leaning in until your lips touch Nat’s soft, full ones.
You had kissed boys before. Hell, you had a boyfriend at your last school. But this was different. You were afraid to even think the word ‘better’, but somewhere in your subscious, you were screaming it. She was gentler: her nose was smaller, her skin was softer, and her hair tickled your cheek.
She pulls back a fraction, eyes flickering between yours, with anxiety. ”Was that okay,” she asks, voice softer than you’d ever heard it. You wish you could scream no. Tell her that you were in fact, not gay, and run out of the trailer. But you can’t. Because it was okay. It was more than okay.
So you nod, not trusting your voice. And she returns a shy smile.
She leans in, this time with more confidence, and your lips meet again. You remember something you mom used to say: once is an accident, twice is on purpose. This time it’s less tentative and more certain. You’re painfully aware of the way she pulls you closer. How her arm snakes up to cup your cheek. How she slowly relaxes her lips, opening her mouth more and more. How she pulls you down flat onto the bed…
“Fuck,” Nat says and you can only register the panic in her eyes for a moment before she’s darting towards the distrubance. You hear the screaming before you see his face.
“Who the fuck is this Natalie,” he says, trying to move the girl out of the way. You realize he means you. ”Is she a fucking d*ke. Are you fucking d*ke Natalie.”
Your stomach drops. Shock begins to wave over your body, depriving you of your higher senses.
“Dad stop, it’s nothing, just stop” Nat screams, pulling him back before he can reach you. Your ears ring with the word ‘dad’.
“Do you think I’m fucking stupid,” he yells. You look over at Nat as she comes toward you in a blur.
She’s horrified, her breathing is erractice, and she seems to be on the verge of tears. She grabs your arm and pulls you up. “Just go,” she says, desperate and panicked.
Disoriented, you stumble to grab your bag and begin to run out the door. Out of the corner of your eye you Nats dad grab her arm abrasively and your heart jumps to your throat. You stop short and turn back to look at her. What would he do for this? You want to stop it, to do something, anything. Her cheeks are wet now. “Fucking go,” she says, sadness etched over every part of her features, and you run. You can hear her dad screaming all the way down the block. You wonder why her neighbors have never stopped him, but it occurs to you that maybe they’ve tried.
You sprint all the way home and the time you get there, sweat has soaked your clothes and you’re on the verge of passing out. Heat laps viciously at your skin and you grab at your chest, willing yourself to breathe. Your mind flashes with all the things that could be happening to Natalie and you’re hit with a wave of nausea.
You stumble inside, tears forming in your eyes, as you go to wash up before your parents arrive home.
