c.ai ۶ৎ ally !! ۶ৎ superduper lesbian ૐ south asian
ᵎᵎ bot rqs ୭
> [ i possibly take every fandom ever lmao - if i haven't watched a show/movie, you could still send me the request :> there's always a probability i'd get around to watching it ]
> [ will not do men guys im a dyke ]
> [ inbox me ! if you'd like you could just give me an au (college!nat, stoner!cate), or you could give me a scenario !! ]
> [ i mostly do fluff but i am up to angst - won't do things like scat, pedophilia, vore, somnophilia, etc. if it's weird i will not do it twin ]
♯ main fandoms ♯
these are the fandoms that if you request im like 99% sure to do it !!
> [ yellowjackets ]
> [ sdv (literally only haley) ]
> [ gen v ]
> [ the boys ]
> [ mcu ]
> [ wednesday ]
> [ movies - heretic, companion, challengers, scream, mean girls, legally blonde, she's the man ]
hello. this is a very serious topic.
98oceans has publicly defamed me multiple times. she is evil. she is demeaning. she has killed my father. yes she has.
here is PROOF that she's LYING about maggie being HER wife. SHE'S MY WIFE. SHE'S TRYING TO TAKE MY BABY AWAY FROM ME.
disturbing images ahead. beware.
this is her FOOLISHLY admitting that maggie is, in fact, my wife. the love of my life. the apple of my eye. she is also FOOLISHLY admitting that she is too BROKE to afford BASIC NESCESSITIES FOR KIDNAPPING. image (i).
here comes proof, from my WIFE HERSELF, that 98oceans is out for her. yes this is real. dont ask follow up questions.
you can't dispute this this is ltierally a real picture sooooooo please don't believe in this HARASSERS LIES. maggie is MY wife and we live on a cute farmhouse together and we giggle while we make dinner and tickle each other domestically. soooooooooooooo. image (ii).
sadly she has deleted the rest when she heard i was actively making an expose on her. respond to the allegations.
@98oceans i have a death note notebook best believe im going to hunt down your last name and then write "dies due to HEARTBREAK in 1 SECOND" soon. watch out.
rules: answer and tag six people you want to know better.
@cherrycokeispunk thank you so much for tagging me babes!
♡ favorite color: my favorite color is and forever will be pink, i also love all pastels but if you must know anything about me is that i live and breathe pink!
♡ last song: i was listening to nettles by ethel cain when i got this notification, also lately i've been NEEDING to write something with that vibe.
♡ currently reading: these days i've been rereading once upon a broken heart, one of my favorites btw.
♡ currently watching: i'm rewatching smallvile for a hundredth time this year, if you haven't realized yet i'm a repeater of everything and smallville is one of my comfort shows of all time!
♡ currently craving: sushi. no matter when you're reading this i'm always craving sushi, even when i'm eating sushi i'm still craving sushi.
♡ coffee or tea: quoting my always powerful variant lorelai gilmore. "coffee, coffee, coffee." in all its forms and shapes coffee has got me through hell and back too many times. (words of an addict but how much is too much coffee?)
i would like to tag this beautiful fairy princess girlfriend @rafesbuzzcutseason
anddddd some of my moots i wish i was more of an extrovert to be able to talk to them @torahwrites @torturedpoetism @vampiriito @gingerteafairy @sematarygirls @wond3rland13
♡ favorite color: pink is practically the color that occupies my whole life and it always has lmao
♡ last song: Elizabeth taylor (so glamorous cabaret version) by taylor swift. I've been so obsessed with it and I wouldnt be surprised if somehow its in my top five songs on wrapped
♡ currently reading: im not reading any book rn because ive been so busy but the last book i finished was a reread of the seven husbands of Evelyn Hugo which is my favorite book ever
♡ currently watching: stranger things s2 🤍
♡ currently craving: well, as im writing this im eating hot Chester chips which ive been craving all day so ig that lol
♡ coffee or tea: coffee forever (@vcnillafairy ur so real because that lorelai quote is like me everyday lmao)
💜favorite color: currently neon pink for some reason, but usually pumpkin orange
💜last song: sailor song by Gigi Perez
💜currently reading: a biography about poet Elizabeth Bishop (she was gay, and no one was shocked)
💜currently watching: Murdaugh: Death in the Family cause I'm a true crime girlie, getting ready to rewatch YJ, and that Ken Burns thing coming up cause I'm also a history girlie
💜currently craving: Natalie Scatorccio, per usual 🫦
💜coffee or tea: iced tea, sweet and dark
tags: @courtneyeats @nataliescatorcciolvr @bug-gribble @29spoons @laceybarbedwire @bl1zzzzard (no obligation tho!)
∘ favourite colour: red, usually darkish red (blood, merlot, garnet... somewhere in there)
∘ last song: silk by wolf alice
∘ currently reading: cleat cute by meryl wilsner (yes i've been reading it for a few months...... i have no attention span rn)
∘ currently watching: the last frontier, blue lights, kind of rewatching yellowjackets s2
∘ currently craving: chocolate icing. not even the cake. i could down an entire container of icing rn
∘ coffee or tea: tea, specifically vanilla earl grey
Hi, shotgunsermon/stagtorccio/eddieripps. giggles thank you for tagging me.. sorry i stole your teeth earlier..
₊⊹⁀➴ favourite colour: red is superior to any and all colors except for its close relatives. i will stand by this until the day i DIE. then when i die i mean who knows i could start liking yellow
₊⊹⁀➴ last song: true romance by pinkpantheress
₊⊹⁀➴ currently reading: i am not one for books (being that the only books i have consistently read in my lifetime are from wimpy kid) BUT if comics count im reading doom patrol from when rachel pollack wrote it, so doom patrol: #72 !!
₊⊹⁀➴ currently watching: dexter: resurrection & dexter: original sin
₊⊹⁀➴ currently craving: kebab... boneless... kebab...
₊⊹⁀➴ coffee or tea: i hate both im more of a soda girl but if i had to choose probably tea
tags: @mayyoursurvivalbelong , my favourite girltwink @peepkiin , @fawnrott and anybody else !!
synopsis: cate has made herself this way, this lonely, this hopeless. the last person she has is you.
wordcount: 6,541 characters/letters, 1,190 words
warnings: mentions of suicide, metaphors of suicide, depressive spirals(?) on cate's end
a/n: i geneuineyl just listened to sad songs all day and made a frankenstein. also i made this in liek an hour?? so its very uncooked very raw very unseasoned chicken meat forgive me this was a suddneny mtoivation to write from wheer idk.. it isnt even proofread.. im so scared that i accidentally wrote "Cate has both arms" somewhere btu i cant be botehred ❤➗2️⃣✖5️⃣ (💔💔💔💔💔)
(if anyone is curious this is inspired by 'under the influence' by the current joys (largely because thsi is literally so cate coded), 'after ur gone' by alex g, 'sometimes' by alex g, and 'the night in question' by tv girl)
You were pretty cool. Honestly, she favored you over Marie. She still does, considering. When you guys met: you both just clicked.
It was indiscernible. Maybe it was that you both had the same fears. Not loneliness, snakes, but still. Maybe it was that you were always optimistic. Stupidly, actually. The way you always believed in her and cheered her on at parties. The way you said she was like Spider-man since her power came with great responsibility.
Then the.. uhm, incident(?) happened.
It's been really rough for Cate.
She's brought this upon herself, really, but you can understand her. She's gotten manipulated to manipulate. She's only ever controlled for love; so that Indira wouldn't leave. Maybe out of fear she would go to fucking Rufus instead. So Luke wouldn't remember the shitshow that she got into herself and leave her. You know, the only boy who has ever actually touched her (Andre, too. Go, Cate!)
However, she practically sent all of friends to Azkaban.
Cate's alone. Like, cripplingly alone. Sam is there, sure, but he's just another person she's manipulated in the grand scheme of things. She's sure he's wanted to rip her apart like a puppet more than twice. There are also the fangirls who copy the whole sleeves-from-the-elbow-down thing (oh, if only she had that other arm. She finds it so fucking tacky).
The only genuine person she has left is you.
You, who was fucking piss scared when she was going berserk on the campus. You, who refused to hurt anyone or do anything for a specific side. You, who rushed to her side when her arm exploded, frantically wiping the blood off of her face.
It's a bit of an overstatement to say she has you, though. What she did was irredeemable. At least in her eyes. And everyone else's who doesn't think of her as the 'Guardian of Godolkin'. You've been holed up in your dorm ever since Homelander beamed Marie.
Today is a particularly bad day.
Sam had asked her to wash away any and all feelings, and she obliged. She couldn't exactly be annoyed, could she?
Then it spiraled when he left. When there wasn't even company.
It started with her brother. Then everyone else she loved.
She was doing the exact same thing she had done to Luke. To Andre. To Marie. Fuck, probably to Jordan and Emma if she had got the chance. You. The pathetic fucking prosthetic on her arm reminded her of how useless she truly was.
A power. Based on touch. With an arm blown off.
Really, what is she good for? Other than being used as a pawn, a puppet. Other than being an unlovable anomaly.
She debates if she could tell herself to never come back. So that she wouldn't pussy out at the last second.
That's the exact moment when she decides to storm over, knocking on your dorm door harshly, a long-sleeved hoodie on. Seriously, the sleeves are ridiculously long. Why else would I be telling you it's a long-sleeved hoodie? All hoodies have long sleeves. This one, though -- it's long.
Anyways, she's very clearly been crying. Her big blue doe eyes are rimmed with red, blood vessels burst in her eye and tear tracks still visible with the way her mascara is ruined.
You step aside without another thought. She has horrible social cues (forgive her for being raised primarily indoors with a gigantic metal door blocking her way out), so she goes for the hug instead.
Instead of pulling away, you close the door with your foot and hug her back. And instead of asking what happened, you go in with an awesome icebreaker.
"You look like Ariana Grande."
She lets out a choked sob. That didn't land, huh?
Deep inside, you know what happened. That insatiable need for touch. For someone to hold her, to trust her again. Like Luke did before she stomped on it until it became a million glass shards. Like Andre did until she struck any and all of it down until it burned to ashes. Like they did, when they looked at her like she wasn't a monster.
She doesn't say anything. Just desperately holds onto you until you have to pull away to get tissues because the snot is getting all over your t-shirt.
You wipe her tears away, the action oddly domestic considering that she's sent all of your friends to a fucking rehabilitation center whose name sounds like it's in the universe of Breaking Bad.
"What happened?" You ask, voice soft.
She shakes her head. Can't get it out, not really, when it's so hypocritical to say. She's lonely. Fuck, she wonders why. "I don't know," she lies, gripping onto your arm.
Sadly, you're a good person. You don't press, even if Cate wants you to.
ou just nod, pulling her sleeves up and subsequently removing her prosthetic from one arm and the glove from the other.
Then you pull her back in.
She can't hold it in anymore. Not when you touched her. Not when you took her prosthetic off like it was blocking you from her.
"I thought about stopping it all," she chokes out, one hand digging into your shoulder. "It felt so lonely. I couldn't text Jordan, I couldn't hug Luke, I couldn't cuddle with Andre, I didn't have anyone."
That fucking guts you. It guts you, the way her fingers act like they have a tremor, how her cries amplify as she squeezes her eyes shut in frustration.
You freeze for a minute. You know Cate has done horrid things, but fuck, if she had actually followed through?
"I wouldn't know what to do if you did," you say, eyes getting glassy. "I couldn't understand that you wouldn't be here anymore. Let alone fucking tell people you were gone."
Cate's the only person you have right now. Whether that's her fault or yours is for a different discussion.
"I hurt all of them. You, too. And now I've dragged all their fucking names through the mud. Every alibi is manufactured by Vought." She says, the crying slowly subsiding as a numbness takes its place.
You don't deny it. She's right.
"Cate, I know. Every time you sigh it's like an admission of guilt. But nobody is beyond redemption." You pull back, taking her face in your hands, thumb stroking her cheeks. "You are not beyond redemption."
Both of you stay like that for a minute.
"I don't wanna be alone anymore. I don't wanna try anymore. I don't want to be stuck here. Don't want to be here." She breathes out, nose blocked.
"You aren't, you will, you are, and you will be."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
She falls asleep in your arms that night, both of you watching the Originals. She thinks Elijah is hotter than Klaus. You strongly disagree until she starts to slur on about noses.
That night, Cate dreams of paradise. How it truly is waiting for her in one of her drawers. So close, yet so far.
But when she wakes up and you're already bitching and moaning about how her breath stinks, she thinks that she can deal with hell for a little while longer.
synopsis: part two to this and inspired by this: you're basically a bitch that, weirdly, is more than just sexually attracted to nat.
wordcount: 5,224 characters/letters, 957 words
warnings: grinding, degradation, light choking, use of the word dyke and uhm... if this wasnt obvious........ smut....... sex....... devils tango.....
a/n: not proofread! also breaking news i have discovered the longer dash (—) and will NOT keep this up because im too lazy. side note: i MIGHT MIGHT MIGHT start writing less for nat and more for other characters (100% cate, maybe tvd characters) but at the same time i might just keep writing for nat. leik. she's so hot im sorry. she's my #1 hyperfixation atm.. also i lreally like this trope... would it so bad to continue this...
You're fucked.
Nat, surprisingly, actually did come over. She managed to make a somewhat good impression on your dad, although your mom still hates her. Granted, you don't know why you care what your parents think about her.
You sat with them for a hot minute. They both tried to explain something to you, but you only listened long enough to hear “blower motor” before zoning out when you saw Nat smirk.
First dick, now blower. How old is she?
In return, you explained the entirety of the Bat Family to her. You had to skip… Richard, let's say. She zoned out by the time you started talking about Barbara Gordon and had completely checked out when you began ranting about the erasure of Terry McGinnis.
Cut to a few days later, and you're at a house party — hosted by Lottie in her oddly gargantuan house.
It’s your usual routine. First, you avoid your boyfriend as much as possible, trying to smile when you see him playing beer pong. He’s going to get pinkeye with the way the drink keeps splashing into his eye, but you can’t be bothered when it keeps suspicions down.
Second, you look for her. Maybe not part of the usual pattern, but worth it when you spot her — how your legs nearly give out at the sight of Nat.
You zero in on her bleached-blonde messy hair, that oddly attractive shag. The blue eyeshadow always overshadowed by her shitty eyeliner. Her lips — and her cute fucking teeth. God, she looks like a rabbit.
She laughs at something someone says. You want to pinch her cheeks.
You freeze. Out of mortification, mostly.
Why? Great question.
This was supposed to be inherently sexual. You realize, in this moment, how frighteningly domestic it is. She isn’t your housewife (yet), but it’s too close for your liking. You’ve had sexual thoughts about her — that’s a given — but you’ve also shown her your comics, she’s met your parents, and you don’t just want to fuck her. You want to belong to her, and that’s much worse.
So, the most sensible option is to drag her to the bathroom. You assume Nat protests, but you can’t hear it over the music.
When you lock the door behind you, she just snorts.
“A bit desperate, huh?” she teases, leaning back against the sink like she’s settling in. At least she isn’t high yet. You do have some moral decency.
“Just — shut the fuck up.” Then, because you realize you’re being an asshole, you add, “Sorry.”
You lean up, hesitant, before pressing an awkward, quick kiss to her cheek.
She scoffs in the dorkiest way possible. Taps her fingers against the granite before pulling you in and actually kissing you.
It’s not what you expected.
She isn’t gentle. She isn’t rough either — just somewhere in between. Her movements are lazy, but her tongue moves fast. She tastes like cigarette smoke, and you’re into it.
It starts getting messier. Both of you want more. Nat doesn’t waste time. She pushes you down onto the bathroom floor, then sits on the toilet seat.
“You’ve called me so many fuckin’ names,” she whispers, leaning down. She tugs at your skirt, and you pull it off like second nature. “A slut, whore, dyke.”
Abruptly, her boot rams into your clothed crotch.
You mutter a curse, but the pain feels good. Your hips buck, but you’re too scared to do anything else.
“What? Just actin’ like what you said I was.” She presses again, and you whimper, head falling on her thighs. You regain some dignity before pulling yourself back up.
But you’re too far gone — too horny.
You can only fight so much before you start pathetically grinding on her toe box.
She adds more pressure, pushing against your clit through your panties. “Pathetic bitch.”
Even as your facade crumbles, you hold her gaze. For once, you don’t have to pretend it’s her. You have her.
Nat’s grin is pure malice as she watches you lose control. You’re rutting against her, breathing so hard you can’t even hear the muffled music — just your own desperate pants.
Her hand tightens around your throat, barely applying pressure. You swallow, and she squeezes. You grind one last time — the toe of her boot catching your clit again, pleasure and pain mixing until you cum.
She lets you ride it out, grip loosening, and — to your surprise — tucks your hair behind your ear.
It doesn’t last long. Sadly, the moment crashes when you start putting your skirt back on.
Nat gets up, rubbing the back of her neck. “That, uh… comfy?”
“My house is close. I’ll just go and change.”
“Right,” she nods, heading for the door.
You clear your throat. Out of desperation, probably.
“You have someone to take you home?”
“I’ll walk, princess.”
“Yeah, well, you’ll be high and drunk by the end of the night. I can walk with you.”
“’Cause a short fucker like you would scare kidnappers away?”
“Worth a try. Just meet me outside when you're ready.” You walk out after that — you always need the last word. You know the whole “walking a girl home” thing is the least sexual move possible, but you don’t want to admit it.
Nat follows a few seconds later. Not to leave, just to watch how you pass Nate like he’s invisible.
A grin spreads on her face. She could get used to this.
You still pinch her cheeks on the walk back — she’s too high to stop you, too soft to care. The cutest rabid rabbit ever. Unfortunately, you're the crazy animal woman holding up a carrot on a stick.
God help you.
synopsis: you're an egotistical clone of regina george if she was in wiskayok high. you're also head over heels for nat!
wordcount: 8,467 letters/characters, 1,522 words
warnings: reader is a HELL of a bitch lowk. and also likes DC. but she changes within 5 minutes! aha! #characterdevelopment! also continuous slander of readers boyfriend but lesbians rule so i dont think anyone will care
a/n: not proofread 💔💔💔💔💔 probably way too long 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔 100% will make a smut pt2 of this 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔 fluff! ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤ also this was inspired by this fic
c.ai bot here
Nat and you are in two entirely different worlds.
You're the perfect girl. An A+ student, kind, hopeful, beautiful, the president of the student council! Oh, also, you're the biggest bitch to ever walk the planet. (In layman's terms, you're both Quinn Fabray and Regina George combined to make Wiskayok High's biggest monster. Or, ever!).
Natalie is a delinquent. She doesn't even try to put up a front. Actually, the only thing you've ever seen her try at (except lighting up a joint when her lighter fluid ran out) is soccer. After that, you don't really know that much about her.
The thing that pisses you off -- and why you torment her -- is how you find her attractive. You are dating the school's hottest, handsomest, and (thankfully) somewhat rich jock. Yet, every time you both fuck, you find yourself moaning 'Nat' with your eyes shut.
Thank God his name is Nate.
Right now, you're eating food in the cafeteria with your friends. It's the only people who you actually tolerate (and like). All the others get their heads shoved into a toilet if they talk to you. The only thing you can currently think about is how Nat would kiss. She seems like a messy kisser, but she could be gentle. Maybe inbetween. Maybe --
"Hey, baby." Nate grins, sitting beside you before wrapping an arm around your shoulders. Your friends roll their eyes. "You look so pretty today." He kisses your neck just to emphasize his point. Or his sex drive.
You raise an eyebrow.
"So I didn't look pretty before today?"
He pauses. Almost pisses himself with the way you're glaring at him. "No, no, sweets." You throw up in your mouth. "I just wanted to let you know."
"It's because I'm wearing make-up, isn't it? You don't like me without it, don't you? You just want to fuck, and fuck, and fuck --"
Nat walks by, snorting. You pause in your relentless assault just to look at her pass by. You glance back.
"Babes --" You press your finger to his lips. "I'm so sorry, Nate. Just going through my period. I'm really emotional."
He makes a sound of realization, nodding. "I knew it."
You ignore the comment. Fucking asshole. You don't bother to even wave: you just speed-walk in the direction Nat was heading. She ends up heading to her car to smoke.
You stand in the school hallways for a bit, peeking through the window at where she's at; trying to think of what to say. Maybe a nice greeting. Maybe a witty joke. Maybe --
Then you walk out to where she's leaning against the hood. Your nice greeting, you ask? It was:
"What, come out here to fuck someone else?"
Great going.
She clenches her jaw, before leaning in and blowing a cloud of smoke into your face to mock you. You cough, trying to wave it away. "Go back to your manwhore boyfriend. What, Jeff?"
She knows the name. She's just trying to piss you off.
"Nat," you say, before vehemently shaking your head. It's embarrassing how you start sweating. "Nate. Nate."
A pause. That shit-eating grin you're so familiar replaces the anger, as you fake cough again just for the sake of filling the stupid, smug silence.
"Woah, princess. You thinkin' of me in his place? 'M so honoured."
Your hands ball into a fist. You could just punch that stupid grin off her, and she would be bleeding and oh God, that's the hottest image you've ever put into your head. "Go fuck yourself." You mumble, leaning next to her.
She looks you over -- slow, deliberate.
“Y'offering to help?”
“Dream on.”
“Already do,” she says. “Ya’d be surprised how often.”
You turn to glare at her, but you're genuinely blushing.
“You’re disgusting.”
She grins again, but it's more genuine this time. No smugness. You smile, the blush deepening as you look away.
"Why're ya not a royal bitch today?"
"I'm not a royal bitch." You are. "I'm just confident." You're horribly insecure and purposefully present yourself as a royal bitch.
"Right."
The silence stretches while Nat smokes her joint. You get more nervous: like if you don't talk, she'll walk away.
"I mean, I'm not.. horrible. I have interests other than pouring water on people's heads," you blurt out, looking up at her for a split second.
"Wow. 'N here I thought you were a heartless fucker." She blows out smoke, and you cough again. "What interests?"
You take a deep breath, because you just know she's going to laugh.
"Superheroes. DC. I collect comics, and stuff."
Nat doesn't laugh. No, she giggles, the motherfucker. "So, y've been actin' all high and mighty while bein' a geek?"
You cross your arms in a defensive stance. “It’s not geeky It's just like a book but with pictures.”
“Of men in tights.”
“They’re heroes,” you protest, which just makes her laugh harder.
You roll your eyes. “Forget it. I knew you’d be an ass about it.”
She exhales smoke through her nose, still smirking. “Nah, relax. S’kinda cute, actually. Didn’t think you were capable of liking anything that wasn’t someone getting slushied." She takes another puff. "Who's y'r favourite?"
Something decides to snap in your brain.
"I don't have one favourite. I mean, if I had to say, there would be multiple. Jason Todd is a good one. I like Tim Drake. Wonderwoman and Cheetah are totally lesbians. Dick Grayson --"
She laughs. You panic.
"What?" You say in that familiarly bitchy tone.
"You said dick."
"Oh my fucking God. I said his name, Nat. He’s a character.”
“Oh, I bet he is,” she mutters under her breath.
“Shut up.”
You say it without heat, and that’s when she looks at you— really looks at you. Her grin softens, mouth still curved but eyes less sharp, almost curious.
“Y’know,” she says, tone lower now, “I do have a question."
You blink. “Shoot.”
“Is he shaped like a penis?”
That actually makes you laugh, loud and not that pathetic 'cute' soft laugh you use around everyone else.
"Whatever. What're you into, anyway?"
Nat raises an eyebrow, a lazy grin spreading across her face. “You mean hobby-wise? Or sexually?”
“You’re insufferable.” Ugh, you wish you were talking sexually.
“’M just clarifying, princess.”
“Hobby-wise.”
She hums, kicking at the asphalt with the toe of her boot. “Dunno. Cars, I guess. Music. Fixing stuff. Takin’ things apart.”
You tilt your head. “You mean, like, a mechanic?”
“Yeah.” She leans against the hood, arms crossed loosely. “I like makin’ them run again. There's a fuckin.. autonomy to it. It's cool, I guess, to fix stuff. Know which parts do what and what could fuck them up. It's nice puttin' shit back together.”
You watch her as she says it— the way her face shifts when she’s talking about something that matters. There’s no mockery, no cocky grin. Just focus. Warmth, even.
So, like the moron you are, you abruptly clear your throat.
"I mean, my dad's got a beat-up car. He's a mechanic too. Trying to fix it for a while now. Uhm, you could come over."
She raises an eyebrow, but doesn't comment on the fact that you're actually inviting her over.
"Already making me meet your parents?"
"Fuck off." You nudge her shoulder, smiling without realizing it. "'M serious. He was like you when he was younger. You two would get along. Plus, I could show you that DC isn't all just men in tights."
Nat looks at you for a beat, smoke curling from the half-burned joint between her fingers. There’s that familiar grin tugging at her mouth—except this time it’s smaller. A little unsure.
“Your old man a good mechanic?”
You shrug. “He thinks so. The car doesn’t.”
She snorts. “Sounds like a challenge.”
“So you’ll come?”
“Yeah, sure,” she says, like it’s nothing. But she flicks her lighter open and shut again—once, twice, three times—like her fingers don’t know what else to do. “Y’know, just to make sure your dad’s not totally messin’ it up.”
You narrow your eyes. “Try not to insult my family when I'm inviting you over."
She grins, tilting her head. “You’ll get used to it.”
You try to scoff, but your heart’s doing that stupid skip thing, so it comes out more like a laugh. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, grease monkey. It’s not a date.” You regret it immediately.
“Didn’t say it was.” She taps her thumb against the metal of her car, then glances up, sly smile curling back into place. “But you’re thinkin’ about it now, huh?”
"I despise you."
“An’ you keep talkin’ to me anyway.”
The bell rings. Lunch is over. A person passes by you both, sending Nat a dirty look, but she doesn't care. Just stares at you, until you give her the address.
"Whatever. Be there at 7."
You don't torment her, after that. Nor have sex with Nat -- Nate -- to fill that gaping void of her. You've gotten your fill, for now.
You also slushie, swirlie, and release jocks onto the person that gave Nat a dirty glance.
Oh, well.
synopsis: you both have to cope; even if its in unhealthy ways. you still try. albeit horribly.
word count: 3,987 letters/characters, 712 words
warnings: mentions of doing self-harm and implied continuation (reader), using drugs and booze to cope and implied continuation to do so (nat)
a/n: i dont knwo why i took leik 9 weeks to write osmething and then made it depressing.. i dont think this is classified as fluff... but i will still call it fluff.. this isnt the real me.. also not proofread
Nat and you have been best friends ever since middle school.
Safe to say, you know everything about each other. The stupid stuff; like how you got weirdly obsessed with chemistry for a month, and how she (not so subtly) stole your brother’s comic books just to rant to you about the Doom Patrol (Specifically, Rita Farr). Geek.
You also know the heavier things.
Childhood was never great for either of you. Actually, it was really fucking shitty, like everyone else’s who’s ever lived in this godforsaken town.
So, naturally, like every human being has to -- you both coped.
Not in healthy ways. Just in ways that seemed to work.
Nat went for something that made her escape. It didn’t have to make her feel good (the weed makes her paranoid, and God knows she doesn’t enjoy the way beer burns going down). She just needed an out, and she found one.
You went for something that calmed you down. It all got to you -- the endless panic attacks, the constant voice telling you you’re never good enough in any aspect of your life. The reprieve, weirdly enough, was cutting. (Inconvenient? Yes. But it worked. It gave you the feeling of finally being in control of something.)
Even though it works, you hate the way she copes. Nat hates the way you cope. So, instead of telling each other or finding a therapist in fucking Wiskayok, you both help in your own excruciatingly wrong ways.
Does it work? Sort of.
It’s a Friday. Nat’s at your place, sprawled across the bed. You’re high out of your mind, watching F.R.I.E.N.D.S. reruns.
You’d just smoked half the universe’s supply of joints so she wouldn’t. She’s (unfortunately) sober because you had the bright idea of buying exclusively non-alcoholic beer.
“Dude, how’d you manage to buy a twelve-pack of… trash?” she asks, her voice nearly drowned out by the laugh track.
“Well, the guy gave it to me since I was clearly underage.” You giggle. The word clearly sounds hilarious to your weed-addled brain. “Clearly. Clearly. Cl-leary. Cl-er-ery.”
She raises an eyebrow, then reaches for the joint — but you snuff it out before she can take it. Instinct, maybe. You’re too high to think. Nat doesn’t yell. The only sign of anger is the way her jaw tightens.
There’s a beat of silence.
“Sorry.”
“I know.” She grunts, cracking open another beer, pretending it’ll do something it won’t.
A few minutes pass like that. You’re thinking about how hot every woman on the show is, while Nat faces actual, non-cluttered reality. She reaches for your hand like she's seeking comfort, feels the bandage on your finger. It's rough while somehow being smooth.
It pisses her off. She pulls her hand back abruptly.
“I’m g’nna take a piss.”
She heads to the bathroom with her bag. You don’t think much of it -- you’re too busy wondering what Joey would look like as a woman (you would so hit that).
Then you hear the faint clatter of something, followed by a flush. She doesn’t come back right away -- you think she went to the other bathroom, judging by the cursing that follows a stubbed toe -- before finally lying back down beside you.
The laugh track plays again. You don’t know who said the joke.
“You took the blades, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, well, you fuckin’ kept me sober for five hours.”
Nothing else is said.
You both know you can’t really help each other. You both know that what you’re doing might hurt more than it saves. But it’s a pathetic, desperate kind of care.
Eventually, things will get better. This isn’t speeding up that promise -- hell, it’s not helping anyone heal. You’ll both keep coping the same way: Nat, when she comes with you to buy the beer next time; and you, when you “borrow” your mom’s razor blade to “shave.”
But it’s something. Someone noticing the pain. Someone trying, even if the trying is wrong.
It’s having someone.
And that’s more than either of you have ever had.
You rest your head against her shoulder. She hugs you.
"Thank you," you mumble.
"Whatever. Thank you too."
You laugh. Nat panics, just for a second, until --
"Thank you too. Thank-you-too. Tank-yu-too."
"Just tell me to not smoke the joints next time, dipshit."
Can you do a part 2 of to be loved please? Like when Nat actually wants to have sex and they do? You don’t have to if you don’t write smut
to be loved (pt 2)
synopsis: part two of this fic where nat feels comfortable enough to have sex
word count: 6,500 letters/characters, 1,187 words
warnings: cunnulingus (r!recieving).. and uhm... sex..
a/n: to my 12 follwoers... i knwo this is unexpected... nbut i havemt proofread.. also random rita farr mention. joke is that she's elastigirl. menaing she can stretch. it'll be funny when you see it i swear i swear i swear
It's been a few weeks since the whole confession. You don't feel bad anymore, Nat doesn't feel like she's lacking in some areas, and it's going well. Not for the first time, but nonetheless, better than before.
Now, you both are at a party. Nat's going crazy (at some point, she plays ping pong with a fork. Without a table. With a tissue. How the fuck does anyone win that?), and you're left to your own devices. Which proves to be drinking beers even though you hate the taste because there isn't any Grape Fanta. What a buzzkill.
You manage to stop when you actually gag, getting up to go find Nat.
She's smoking a joint, grinning at a joke Kevin said. Instead of saying sorry for the interruption, you simply pull her away from him, weaving through the crowd like it's second nature. Or because you had to weave through the crowd before to find Grape Fanta.
Nat furrows her eyebrows when you both reach the smell of fresh, alcohol smelling air. "Fuck was that f'r, princess?"
"Sorry. I just don't know what to do. There's not much activity except drinking beers."
"C'mon. Y'r overexaggeratin'."
You pause, pretending to mull over it.
"Eh, not really, no."
She grins, wrapping an arm around your waist. "How'd you wanna pass the time, then?"
Fortunately, you don't have to answer that before she's kissing you.
This is, unsurprisingly, better than cheap beer.
She picks you up at some point -- lips not bothering to leave yours as she does so. Then she's pulling away, and you're getting shoved into the backseat.
You smile. That turns into a pout when she closes the door and gets into the front seat.
".. You do realise I'm not Rita Farr?"
She blinks. "Right. Whatever nerdy bullshit that means." She starts the engine, and you just sigh, slinking back into the seats. "We're goin' to your house. Your parents aren't home, right?"
"Right," you drawl out, confused. "Are you going to tell me what cryptic message you're trying to convey?"
She scoffs.
"Figure it out, moron."
Surprise -- you do not figure it out. The whole ride back to your place, you keep asking her what the fuck you're going to do that's so special, there. You guys make out everywhere, so it isn't that.
When you do get there, she parks just a bit recklessly (almost crashes into your garage door), walks scarily fast to your room, and then kisses you.
Huh. It's just a make out session. Maybe she just didn't feel like doing it in the sleaziest party known to man.
The kiss is fucking perfect. She isn't rough; just desperate. It's like she wants to feel your tongue against hers for as long as she lives.
You moan when she bites your lip. She pins you onto the bed, and for a second, you both stare at each other, slightly dazed from how long you just kissed without taking a breath.
"I wanna do it."
You process it. Instead of asking something nice, like 'Are you sure?' or 'Are you just intoxicated?', you immediately go --
"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. That's why you wanted to go home."
"Y'r such a fuckin' moron, babe," she murmurs, laughing under her breath. The sound quickly gets cut off when she starts taking off your clothes: replaced by a quiet 'Fuck.' when she removes your underwear. You're wet already, despite the fact that all Nat has done is kiss you. She's smirking, the smug fucking bastard.
So, in retaliation, you move to take her clothes off. She stops you midway when you try to tug off her shirt. You tilt your head, asking her the most obvious non-verbal question in the world.
Nat just shrugs awkwardly.
"You don't have to do this if you don't want to," you try to reassure, rubbing little circles into the strip of waist that's visible.
"Nah, nah. I wanna." A beat, where she scratches the back of her head awkwardly. "Can I j's keep my clothes on?"
She's anxious. Visibly so, with the way she doesn't look at you -- how her breathing starts getting less steady and she fidgets with your fingers on her skin.
You quickly nod. "'Course." A kiss to her forehead.
Unfortunately, all of her cockiness seems to come back. Her fingers move to your thighs, softly caressing them.
"Obviously," she grumbles.
Instead of moving to kiss you again, she just goes down on you. It catches you very, very off guard.
Your hips jolt up into your mouth, and she lets you. Doesn't even come up for air. (God, how you love the fact that she has the breathing skills of a.. well, something that doesn't need to breathe for a long time. You can't really think of a great example right now.)
Her tongue moves inside you at the same her nose brushes against your clit, and you cry out -- fingers tangling in her hair just to tug. In spite of how you just tried to tug her away, your hips roll up again.
Even as you jerk into her touch, try to tug her away because of sheer instinct at the stimulation, she keeps going. Her tongue is a constant. Or, more unprofessionally, a vibrator.
She comes up for air, pressing her forehead against yours.
"You're so fucking beautiful," you manage to pant out, kissing the corner of her mouth where your slick is.
Nat pauses. Only for a split second, as she takes that fact in. Then abruptly goes down again so as to make you have the most earth-shattering orgasm of your life.
You moan, loud and probably earsplitting enough for a small portion of that sound to only be heard by cats and dogs. Your thighs tremble around her head, but she just steadies them.
She uses your shirt to wipe off her mouth, and then to wipe you clean. When she kisses you this time; it's more gentle than desperate. Like she truly knows you aren't going anywhere. She grabs a shirt from your closet, throws it at you, and as soon as you wear it -- she's tucking her head under your chin.
"Y'r not, like.. mad I didn't take my clothes off, right?" Nat asks, voice weirdly feeble. You scoff like that's the most ridiculous question in the world. Which, honestly, it is.
“Oh, absolutely. I’m livid. I was really banking on that life-altering experience of watching you get cold and awkward and being uncomfortable the whole time, Nat."
She smiles, softly -- which is rare, because most of the time she has that shit-eating grin on her face.
For the first time, she believes that someone isn't using her for her body. She believes that you called her beautiful even when her clothes were on because you aren't using her. She believes she can be loved.
You're currently drifting off into sleep with your cheek mushed against her forehead when she mumbles "I love you."
It's so silent, like she's trying to make sure you can't hear it.
You do.
"I love you too, Nat."
synopsis: you two have been dating; yet you haven't had sex yet. you don't know why.
wordcount: 2,722 letters/characters, 515 words
warnings: mentions of not feeling in control/present of her body (from nat's end)
a/n: to my 5 followers (one of which i hate) im sorryr i didnt post for so long im bsuy with diwali 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔also no proof reaidng done but we dont talk about that #indian #asian #southasian #grinder (not to be confused with grindr) #worker #goodchild
You and Nat have been dating for a while. It's been nothing crazy yet -- just kisses and make out sessions. Actually, you aren't sure why she hasn't done anything with you.
It's not like she doesn't have that much of a sex drive. Hell, she'll call you in the middle of the night just to touch herself to the sound of your voice. You're confused, to say the very least.
Sometimes, it makes you feel less wanted (Which is really stupid. There could be a multitude of perfectly reasonable reasons for said issue. Maybe she isn't comfortable yet. Maybe she isn't comfortable around you. Maybe she doesn't even like you all that much, and you're just a rebound. From who, you have zero clue).
Hey, when did those thoughts start becoming self-deprecating?
It's a Friday. You both are sprawled across your bed, and Nat is eating those little chocolate star biscuits you got specifically for her.
You can't help it when you blurt the question out of your mouth.
"Why haven't we had sex yet?"
She blinks. Holds up one finger while she swallows. Then, "I dunno. Wasn't really on my to-do list, princess."
It's sort of embarrassing when you pout like a fucking anime-girl, but you're too stubborn to focus on anything else.
"I just.. d'you not feel comfortable, or something? I'm not castrating you for not fucking me. But, like, I don't know why you won't. And it's making me feel bad."
Hey, communication! Up top! No? Okay.
Nat scratches the back of her head awkwardly; her gaze stubbornly not meeting you. She spends a beat like that until she realizes that you're her girlfriend and you could go to hell if you didn't accept her reasoning. She hopes you will. Hell is pretty far from here.
"No, no. Fuck. I like you, princess. You know that, yeah?"
You nod. The pout eases away slowly.
"'M tired of being used for my body. Or tired of my body. I don't fuckin' know. Point is, I j'st don't feel like I'm in control of it right now." She groans, dragging a hand across her face when she thinks her words sound wrong. "Don't get me wrong, I wanna do shit with you. But I don't wanna do it when I'm not fuckin' sure if I do."
She's sweating. You can tell her face feels hot, and you pull her closer. "Hey, I get it. Nothing wrong with it. Just wanted the reason. No need to defend yourself."
The reassurance helps. A lot, actually, but she doesn't mention it again. The nerves slip away. Her face becomes more relaxed.
A few minutes pass like that.
She looks at you, a grin on her stupidly hot face.
"Y'want me that bad?"
Yes.
"Fuck you."
"Oh, 'm sure you want to." She says, her grin only broadening.
Nat'll let herself be loved for now. Not her ass, or her lips, or her boobs -- only her. And, fuck, could she get used to it.
Also, she's totally gonna bang you when she feels better.
synopsis: travis is a cheating cunt, and you're his sister who has (very) obviously had a crush on her. nat might as well go for the better one. (haha see what i did there cunt insult cunt vagina do you get it)
wordcount: 5,518 letters/characters, 1013 words
warnings: fingering (r!receiving), cunnilingus (r!receiving), slight degradation, basically revenge sex
authors note: this started as a bot but i got freaky 😭😭 also this is my first smut/long post so bear with me here !! i have also not proof read i would not be surprised if i just wrote 'bare' instead of 'bear' right now
c.ai bot here
Travis is such a fucking asshole. She should've known he was a manwhore.
Jackie? Out of all people, Jax?
Nat walks in the house, about to storm into Travis's room with a spray paint bottle when you walk out of a hall with a bowl of ice cream.
You're about to take a bite when you look up. The ice cream sadly drips until it falls right back down; making a little plop.
"What'd he do now? Cheat?" It's a rhetorical question, your voice deadpan and a lazy smirk on your face.
Nat's jaw clenches.
"Ooh.."
A beat.
"I mean, could you not vandalize the walls? I'm sure there are plenty of other ways to get revenge." Your voice is meek, more intimidated by the way she looks like she's about to pummel you rather than the risk of toxic fumes coming from your brother's room.
God. You're such a prick. This whole family tree is full of pricks. She's gonna splatter this stupid black spray-paint onto your face if you don't —
Hold on. You're her age, you definitely have a crush on her judging by the way you continuously third wheel every night they hang out together (you always hand her Buzzballs. She thinks you buy them in bulk for her). She has a much, much better idea.
"Other ways to get revenge, huh?" She says, smirking. "Ya know what? Y'r right. Vandalism is never the answer." She grabs your hand, takes you to your bedroom and closes the door.
Fucking your yet-to-be ex-boyfriend's little sister is, apparently.
You put your ice cream bowl on the nightstand. And, for a few seconds, it seems like she's just going to make a master plan with you. Ask you what food he's always hated so she can go ahead and throw lentil soup on him.
Unfortunately, her mind isn't on vomit-inducing items.
You freeze when she kisses you, immediately pushing her off. "Dude — I'm his sister. You can't —"
"Hey, we could roleplay." She grins. Proceeds to move to your neck since you're so keen on trying to uphold your morals; careful not to leave hickeys.
"Roleplay?" You ask, voice wavering when she kisses your pulse.
"Yeah. I dunno. Pretend I'm a fuckin'.. pool cleaner. Just get your mind off of Travis."
Hers is (very clearly) already off of him.
You snort.
"Right. Uhm, awfully big chlorine bottle you have there."
She laughs, and you shiver at the breath that ghosts across your skin. She moves away from your neck just to push you on the bed and straddle your hips. Another kiss, and this time, you don't try to fight it. You would be stupid to fight it.
"Let me get my revenge, yeah?" She mumbles, taking off your shirt.
You just nod, albeit dumbly.
Travis stole your Pepsi, anyway. You can steal his girl.
She presses soft kisses seemingly everywhere — trailing down before stopping to leave hickeys under your breast. She grins when your fingers tangle in her hair, trying to urge her to just go down already. She stops sucking; your skin leaving her mouth with a pop.
"Don't rush me, doll." It's a drawl, and you whimper when she teases you by stopping her kisses at your stomach as punishment. "I'll take all the time in the fuckin' world if I wanna."
When she does finally take off your shorts, ready to give you what you want, she's not very nice about it. Nor gentle.
You're already wet, and there's a growing patch on your underwear. Nat doesn't bother taking it off - just pulls it to the side before thrusting her fingers in. She sets a brutal pace from the start. One of your hands move to cover your mouth, and the other fists the sheets.
"That feel good, baby? You like getting fucked by your brother's girlfriend?"
She adds another finger, and you barely manage to muffle your noises, eyes squeezing shut. Your walls involuntarily clench around her - and that makes her snap.
She hooks your legs over her shoulder before just diving in. No teasing, no edging - just relentless sucking. You squirm, and she slaps your thigh. You try to jerk your hips up into her mouth, and her nails bruise your stomach with how hard she digs in. Her fingers are still fucking you, but it's less focused now. Most of her brain power is going into suctioning your clit like a vacuum.
She starts with little kitten licks, now, panting. "You've dreamed about this, haven't ya? Whenever 'm in his room?" You're tempted to say she's cocky and egotistical - but you can't find it in yourself to act like a brat when she's making you see stars. "Fucked yourself rotten when you heard me moan?"
She curls her fingers, and your eyes roll into the back of your head.
"I'll take that as a yes."
You can feel her smug fucking smirk against you. Literally.
She adds a third finger, crooks it just right — which is weird, considering you've never actually been with her. You have no idea how she found your G-spot — and you can't even find your voice to warn her when you finish.
Your arch your back, palm pressing harder on your mouth as you gasp. Your hips rock into both her mouth and fingers while you ride it out. Nat takes her time and licks off the remnants.
Surprisingly, she lays down next to you. You're guessing it's because she didn't get her cigs since her original plan was to (probably) write "CHEATER" on his wall and escape through his window. Instead, she fidgets with the spray can.
"So.. uhm, you wanna wait 'till my brother gets home?"
Nat nods. Bounces her leg.
You're not even upset; because she won't be in the mood if Trav does want to do anything. And you bet you're going to hear yells. Not the good kind where you have to give your headphones to Javi.
"We're doin' this for everyday he doesn't tell me he's cheating, by the way." She walks to the bathroom, and you can hear the clattering of a toothbrush falling against the sink coupled with a string of curses.
You slurp your ice cream from the bowl, considering how it's basically a milkshake now.
Oh, how you hope your brother takes this secret to his grave.
synopsis: you visit cate at the hospital after she got hurt (not without running away from the scene at first). (fluff btw)
wordcount: 2,223 letters/characters, 398 words
warnings: spoilers for s2, but other than that this is just a blurb from my bot #promo #stocks #business #marketingtactics
c.ai bot here
You left me to die. How could you?
Those were the first words you heard from Cate when you came to the hospital. Well, not from Cate, actually - a poor nurse who subsequently stabbed her friend in the eye. Shit, you didn't know she could fucking possess people. Might've made you nicer at the start.
Granted, you both had history.
Even when she sent you and your friends to Elmira -- you still had hope. Hell, when you saw her; you actually waved back with a smile. Jordan and Emma had glared at you.
It's not like you forgive her for all of her wrongdoings. It's just that it's hard to be mad at her when you're the only person she hasn't brainwashed (hopefully. Can't trust anyone, can you?). You both were friends before she met Luke, so maybe it's because you had trusted her when no one else did. When you let her touch you and curl her pinkie around yours. That was so fucking new for Cate.
You don't know why you're visiting her after running away with the others. Why you still trust her after everything. Why you're still sitting beside her when she's in a hospital bed, not wearing a prosthetic underneath gloves. Why you didn't just run away after she went The Conjuring on you with the nurses (Hey, that's pretty funny. You'll use that as an icebreaker when she'll look back and laugh. Right?).
Cate blinks her eyes open, only to lock on you.
"Hey," You drawl out awkwardly. "Uhm, sorry for, like.. bailing. You get it, right? I mean, you tried to.. brainfuck Marie again. But I'm not making excuses for leaving you to die," you make gestures with your fingers. You do jazz hands at some point, and you aren't sure why. "We were just scared of Vought. Guess that got mixed up."
A beat of silence.
Then she takes your hand.
Anybody else would've pulled away. Jordan would've given her another skull fracture. Instead, you just smile. Soft, awkward, a little bit frightening with the way you do it.
"At least you came back," she murmurs, voice hoarse and rasp. Her blue eyes still manage to make your stomach all fluttery. "They wouldn't have."
You don't know how to respond.
"Do you need water? I mean, the nurses have shat themselves, but I'm sure I could get something. Vought-A-Burger? Planet Vought? Big Homie Burger without the bacon?"
Cate shakes her head, squeezes your hand and ignores the throb in her head.
