pairing: vamp!nat x reader
summary: after your new 'friend' has been avoiding you and ignoring your texts for weeks, papers switch.
warnings: twilight au/crossover, please keep in mind there's an in between w talk to me and this!! reading the text messages will make sm more sense... GHOSTING, confronting, nat being kind of a looser (cute), reader chasing nat and viceversa, coming out, hints of homophobia (sorry), kissing, 3k words or so, Edward mentions, usual TWs
from Crimson hymn (twilight x yellowjackets au)
That's all it took for Natalie to get back to avoiding you. Right after that coffee date meet up and finishing that stupid project over the next week, (it was perfect and beautiful, of course,) she hadn't hesitated when it came to walking past you. It wasn't just the fact that she didn't even speak that bothered you, but now she also didn't even dare to look at you. Why? You had no clue.
And that pissed you off more than you cared to admit. Because, at this point, it wasn't just 'a cute girl' ignoring you. No, it was someone you'd actually talked to every single day, about the project but being honest that had just turned into an excuse. You'd text and call each other every chance you got, ramble on the hallways about the stupidest things, share each others notes.
Radio silence. And fuck it hurt.
Either way, you tug at the sleeves of your pink braided sweater, seeking for some of the warmth that Antartiforks (you're still working on the name, let's not judge…) deprives you from. A sigh leaves your lips as music flows from your crappy headphones. As you make your way into the school's decorated hallways, you end up walking behind her, as if something stronger, more powerful than you was pulling you two together. Such a great thing to feel towards a girl that ignores you, heh…
But you didn't mean it in a creepy way! In your defense, she had been ignoring you for what— weeks? days, really, but that's not important.
What's important is that you're here, and so is she. Now staring right back at you with her dark brows arched before she goes back to looking down at the sink.
"Seriously?" She looks back up, meeting your eyes for a second. "Did I do something?"
"Then why are you ignoring me?" She stutters some nonsense, the usual 'i'm not ignoring you' she's been preaching for the last weeks. "Natalie, please. Just be honest."
Finally, she looks at you. Her eyes take you in fully, and her pupils dilatate and contract as she takes in your features; your tired expression, the dark stains under your now darkened gaze, your swollen eyes, probably from so much crying, and overly, how exhausted you look. Over her. Over this. Over chasing her into this nonsense.
"What? is it 'cause you've found out?" you mutter, aiming for the worst.
Her brows furrow in confusion, head slightly tilting to the side. "Found out about what?"
Your lips part, but really, nothing comes out of them. Fuck. She didn't know? or maybe she did, and was just playing coy?, but it now feels like it's already too late, and like your dad always says, 'cat's outta the bag', so might as well just go for it.
"That I like girls." It comes out in a mumbled whisper, and Natalie can palp your fear, the way your body is tensing, so fucking scared of her reaction. But it's the truth. And you've been here before. You've seen your best friend's expression harden when you told her in middle school, the rejection and disgust that filled her face, the way your heart sunk. You weren't even into Emma, you just wanted support, to talk about girls the same way she talked to you about boys.
But before Natalie can form a thought or a solid answer, the bathroom door swings open and a group of girls comes in, voices chipping and gossiping filling the tiled bathroom doors. So you do what Natalie does best; run. Sliding through the bodies with tiny sorry's and excuse me's, you get back to the sea of people drowning the hallways, and you disappear.
It's crazy how papers switch.
Ever since your hit and run (or coming out and running), Natalie has been almost practically chasing you. And you've done what she has on the last weeks, avoiding and ignoring.
Funnily enough, the blonde hates to be in your position, and lasts way less than you did. After only four days and about a hundred texts coming from her, (yes, she's been the one texting you, crazy, right?) three calls and multiple encounters and lingering eye contact from across the cafeteria, Natalie finally catches you.
It's on friday, when you're skipping class. You hate chem, and chem hates you. It's a fact, but it still pisses you off because you hate feeling dumb. Besides, it's just one hour, so you just have to wait for Bella to get off so you can two drive back home together.
Your pencil is scratching the thick paper of your sketchbook, pressure deflecting on the intensity of the strokes, the woody landscape beggining to form on the palm of your hand.
"Nice work there," your head turns at the sudden voice, and Natalie seems visibly nerveous. So do you. Looking away from her, you start stuffing your bag back up, clumsy hands stumbling with your pencil case.
"Wait—" Her hand reaches your biceps, and a shiver rinds down your spine. Natalie notices, and instantly lets go. "I— can we just talk? please? I- I promise I'll be quick."
Your lips part and you feel your lip quiver. "Don't say anything." Natalie looks confused, and you just might wanna punch some sense into her. "About what I said the other day in the bathroom, don't say anything to anyone. I- I'm fine with you going back to ignoring me if you don't."
"What? No! I'm- I'm not gonna say anything-"
"I'm serious Nat. If anyone finds out I'm fucked, like knee deep fucked-"
"It already sucked in Phoenyx and it wasn't a shoebox of a town like this shitshow so imagine what it'll be like here, with all Forks looking at me like a fucking weirdo-"
"What about my dad? How do you think he will take it? He's gonna freak out. It's gonna be terrible, and I can't even get back home because my mom is too busy with her new husband and I-"
"I like girls too, okay?!"
Silence. Both of your breaths ragged, eyes hesitant, surprised with what's just come out of her rosy lips. I like girls too. Natalie seems even more taken back than you, even if she's the one who just said it. Birds chip in the background, the soft cold breeze whispers to your face and Natalie is still there. Standing in front you, worn-out black leather jacket, one of her stupid band tees and that dumb expression in her face you can't help but love.
"What the fuck?" An incredulous mumble unclogs your throat. "You've liked girls all along?"
"Oh so thats what this all about?" Your face is no longer scared, but slightly angry and still surprised.
"You've been avoiding me cause you're into me?" Natalie opens and closes her mouth a couple of times, but ends up saying nothing but a 'Something like that'. "You gotta be fuckin' kidding me," you grumble turning to sit resting your worn out converse on the bench spot. You feel her shift, the squicky sound of her jacket following her moves. "I'm sorry." She whispers almost in your ear. It makes a shiver run through your spine, but you try to keep it cool. Hope she doesn't hear how fast your heart is racing. How hard is it to breathe right now. Fuck.
"Does it have anything to do with the whole 'you-should-stay-away-from-me' thing you and your siblings got going on?" You mumble, looking down at her not so shiny boots.
"Why am I supposed to stay away from you?"
Natalie doesn't respond right back, waiting instead for your eyes to find hers. When you do, she tries to hold back, to keep looking at you, but ends up glancing away with a swallow. "Because…" Because because. She doesn't say anything else, as if she's trying to find an excuse, to make something up just to get you to stop. But she doesn't want to. She doesn't want to stay away from you. She wants you to call her, to text her, she wants to see you in school, to sit beside you after you save the seat for her, to see your smile, to try your obnoxious scented lip glosses, to listen to your laughter, to catch your scent before she even sees you. "I dunno." Is all she manages to mumble.
"Wow. And they say Plato's is dead." that makes her laugh, but your instant glare quiets her down. "I'm really sorry." She says again.
"I don't want your sorry's if you're not gonna explain shit."
She sighs, shifting uncomfortable in her seat. Her hands come up to rub her face and grasp her hair, and even if you're unbeliveably hurt and pissed, you still hate seeing her like this. You gently cup her elbow, not wanting to do too much but also show here you're listening. She looks at you through her bleached mane, and you think you catch a glossy layer over her emeralds. "Hey- Nat," you start, making her groan as her thumbs attampt (failing) to rub the upcoming tears off. "Hey…" Your arm comes to wrap over her back, hand gently caressing her shoulder in a lame attempt to soothe her.
"I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry. I'm an asshole, and I was scared and I didn't know how to- and you just- I've made you suffer so much-"
"Wow, okay— suffer is a big word," She laughs and sniffs through her hair. "Is it cause your brother doesn't want you hanging with a dyke like me?" Your tone is playful, harmless even, just a stupid attempt to get her to stop crying— "Joke, joke," you mumble as her head lifts to look at you in a defenetly not laughing expression. You reach into her jacket's pocket, taking off a pack of cigarettes and a lighter with The iconic image of a Rosie the Riveter with a bicep flexed, wearing a red polka-dot bandana and blue work shirt, Jersey girls get shit done instead of the iconic 'We can do it!'.
"How did you-?" She stutters, confused. "I stare, remember?" Now, she finally smiles. She takes one and offers you another, and with both of your lips pursed around a cigarette, the metally click of the used lighter pulls you closer, tobacco tips tipping against each other as the flame licks them both. You look at each other all the way. Not even paying attention to the burning sensation of holding the smoke for too long, your hand reaches to her cheek, watching as she let's you wipe a rebel tear before it rolls down her cheek. It feels oddly romantic. You slowly pull apart, the burning sensation being too much to hold as you watch Natalie's pupils dilatate. At your touch, because of me, you think, and the word Delusional flods your mind.
"…Can't we just go back to hanging out and shit-talking everyone?" You offer, letting out your third puff.
"Yes please." She blurts out fast, faster and more desperate than she'd like to admit. "I- I mean, y-yeah, that'd be… cool to… hang out again." You turn your head to her in disbelief. "You're unbelievable." Your murmur. "How can you avoid me for two weeks and be so needy?"
"I'm not needy!-" you cut her with a huffed 'oh fuck yes you are' "I'm not! I just- I just-"
"I just missed you!" Now it's your turn to be stunned, smoke dancing with silence between the both of you. "God, you really are gay."
"Oh shut up-" she mumbles embarassed as she nudges you.
It was good to have her back.
You could spot Natalie's pale complexion from a mile away. And this wasn't gonna be the exception. She was wearing a striped shirt (god she had an obsession with fucking stripes), ripped jeans and her usual doc martens. And oh, ofcourse, the leather jacket.
After you two made up, Natalie finally agreed on hanging out like the two normal 'friends' you were. And you say 'friends' because you seem to feel everything but friendly feelings towards her, and it seemed to be the same thing for her, so…
Regardless of the elephant in the room, she had agreed on taking you on a 'town tour' so you could finally know your way around. Wich, to be fair, you already knew, given the countless times Jessica and Angela had dragged both you and Bella on shopping sprees, but Natalie didn't need to know all that. Besides, she seemed more confident when she thought she was in control, and you weren't about to take that away from her.
You cross the sidewalk, getting closer to where she's already waiting for you, arm perched on her waist silly grin on her lips. "Looking good, huh." Natalie hums, making you raise a brow. "What?"
"'Looking good?' God you're worse than Mike-" You murmur as a grin spreads on your lips.
She makes an exaggerated offended face, scoffs and you can sense how nerveous she is. "I'm not!"
"Yes it is. Horrible pick up line."
"I wasn't trying to pick you up," she doesn't seem very convinced when she says so.
"Oh, so you just get incredibly nervous when you're around me." You start walking, leaving her behind standing like a statue. "I don't," She catches up quickly, crimson to her cheeks.
"Oh but you do," you hum smiley, her brows furrowing at your comeback, "ohh Natty s' okay, I get it. Pretty girls make me nervous too." You'd think the reason for her now twisted face is caused because she understood you meant she was the pretty girl you were talking about, as if she'd finally got it. Weeks and weeks of flirting finally coming to her understanding. But really, it was because of the nickname. Not because it was the first time she'd ever been called that, but because it had been a long time since she'd last heard it. Last time she did, it didn't come with a sweet tone like yours; laced with interest and leaving a honey-like taste on her throat. No. It came from her father, almost fourteen years ago, a couple of years before she had even been converted.
That last ounce of hatred he'd finally left her with, a sour memory of the father he'd never really been.
And now there was you. Giving that burried name a whole new meaning, reviving something Natalie had left for dead before she even realized.
But all she did was huff a laugh, roll her eyes and tell you to just shut up and follow her around town.
Just a stupid nickname, right?
"Okay, so, serious question—" the lollipop makes a satisfying 'pop' sound when it leaves your now shiny lips, "rumcoke or vodka lemon?"
It's been hours since you two got home. After all, spending all afternoon walking around a almost deserted town gets exhausting, and neither Bella nor Charlie were home that day. So there was nothing wrong with inviting a friend over, right? 'If it's a girl, I don't care,' your dad had said after all, unaware of how 'just girls' made a lot more things to you than just gossip and manicures.
"Beer." You instantly lift up from the bed to look down to Natalie's cold body. She's laying on top of your pink fluffy carpet, courtesy of your father (thanks, Charlie). Her box blonde strands of hair twirl between the flakes of pink fur. Her forest green eyes find yours, and she instantly smiles at your reaction. "Beer?" you repeat, a funny grin spreading on your face. She nods. "Seriously? No vodka lemon, no cocktails…?"
"It's too sweet," She hums, making your head tilt. "Too sweet?" She nods, "Then why do you keep using my Victoria's secret Cherry bomb lipgloss?" Color erupts from her cheeks and her eyes drift away from yours as she stutters, suddenly seeming very interested on the papered walls and the fairy lights.
"Uh- because it's um— great. Hydration. And pigment. Yeah." You stare at her for a moment and then burst into laughing. "Stop laughing! I'm serious," you don't. "Stop!" It's more of an embarassed stop, and the more you lean on the edge of the bed, the more she sits up.
"Oh I can't take you seriously when you blush like that," you hum smiley, her face closer than you realized it was. She doesn't either. Realize until now, you mean. Chewing her bottom lip in a nerveous habit, eyes flicking back at yours. "Can't help it." She whispers back.
Your breaths mix as your eyes chase each other, nervous, confused, hopeful. Who knows.
You lean in a bit, making her breath get ragged and her throat bob as she swallows. "We shouldn't."
"Says- common sense." She's really trying to look away, but you keep hunting her eyes, sweet breath caressing her skin.
"Is common sense's name Edward?" You tease. Because of course he is! He's always in the middle of fucking everything, telling everyone what to do— both for Nat, and apparently now Bella.
"N-no." Stuttering, as per usual. So cute. Your smile grows wider, "I don't buy that,"
"I-" She tries to speak, failing in a sputter of mumbles.
"Just fucking kiss me already."
Natalie's eyes flicker down to your lips.
Like she's trying not to, like she's losing (because really, she is,) and for a second, she just stares. For once, she doesn't look smug, or teasing. Just straight up... Terrified.
You see it then, hidden under all the sarcasm and nervous stuttering; the fear. Raw and ugly and desperate. Like kissing you would mean crossing a line she wouldn't be able to uncross. But why was it that much of a problem? Kissing you, you mean. Why did Edward care so fucking much? Was he such a homophobe?
Her voice comes out in a quiet "You don't know what you're asking for" and you almost laugh.
"Nat, we're seventeen, not in a Shakespeare tragedy."
That actually pulls a breathy huff out of her, but it dies quickly. Her hand twitches against your carpet like she wants to reach for you, but stops herself halfway.
"You make me wanna do stupid shit." she whispers.
Your chest tightens embarrassingly fast. God you're a mess for this girl--
"Maybe I like stupid shit."
"Yeah, that's kinda the problem."
You roll your eyes softly, but your heartbeat's going insane. She can probably hear it. Actually— considering Natalie— she definitely can, but you don't know that yet. Instead, you lean closer.
Close enough to smell cigarettes and vanilla again, enough that her breathing stutters.
"You know," you murmur softly, eyes dropping to her lips for a second, "for someone who wanted me to stay away from her, you spend a lotta time in my bedroom."
Natalie lets out another quiet laugh through her nose, head dipping slightly. Then, her hand finally reaches for you.
Her knuckles brush your cheek first, hesitant, almost asking for permission even after you practically begged her to kiss you.
"You have no self preservation instincts." she mumbles.
You huff. "And you talk too much."
That earns you a tiny smile.
But trying very, very hard not to bite. It's soft at first, almost painfully careful; her lips feel cold moving against yours while her hand cups your jaw like you're something fragile, something precious she shouldn't play with.
Your fingers immediately tangle into the collar of her shirt, pulling her closer with a breathy sound that makes her freeze for half a second.
Then she kisses you again.
Like those weeks without you finally cracked something open inside her. The kiss tastes faintly like tobacco and cherry chapstick, and you think you could get addicted to it.
Her other hand braces against the edge of your mattress, caging you in without crushing you, and when your lips part slightly against hers, Natalie makes this low sound in the back of her throat that nearly kills you on the spot.
You barely notice yourself shifting closer until she's practically between your knees, (how did she get there so quick?) your bedroom glowing pink and gold around her pale skin.
And for the first time in weeks, she isn't pulling away. When you finally separate, both of you breathing harder than before, Natalie rests her forehead against yours, eyes still closed.
"...Edward's gonna kill me."
And Natalie thinks it's the prettiest sound she's heard in almost a century.
YAAAAYYY finally bringing this!!! I've been working on this for soooo long im soso happy to bring it to you guys!!!
dividers by @saradika-graphics!!!
