Hi could you do older Nat being your mom headcanons
this is. like. all over the place. have some single mom!adult!nat hcs (and some cool aunt!van hcs for shits and giggles)
def was not planning on becoming a mom. it was likely the product of a one-night, some guy whose number she never got and name she never knew.
that being said, she either didn't know she could love something as much as she loves you, or thought she'd be too fucked up yo try.
once you're there, though? once you're real? the first time she holds you she fucking breaks down sobbing—because you're hers. you already had her eyes, now you just needed a name (it's the first thing that comes to her head. she never bothered giving you a name while you were in the womb, because if something happened before she got to meet you... well.)
she's all in, tho. like, from d1. she doesn't attend 'mommy-and-me' classes, pta meetings, or any of that shit. but she's like... your BIGGEST fan. supports any and all endeavors. you wanna be an astronaut? hell yeah, she knows a guy who knows a guy who knows a guy who knows someone who runs a space camp for teens. you're trans? high five, let's go pick out some clothes and shit. changed your mind on being an astronaut, and you wanna be a musician? wicked. she's got an old six-string she can give you.
no curfews. not bc she's a chill mom (she is), but bc she doesn't trust that system. think it just breeds resentment. she'd rather you text her when you're drunk than lie about it.
on that note, she would pick you up from a house party if you were too intoxicated to drive. in fact, she would rather you text her to pick you up. she doesn't mind, and would rather you call her than drive home yourself and "fuckin' kill an old lady, or something."
doesn't know how to cook for shit. her specialties are: frozen pizza, kraft mac & cheese (SPECIFICALLY kraft. she grew up on the great value shit and thinks it tastes like ass), some weird meal she made out of leftovers (which, surprisingly, never tastes that bad), and fried eggs (makes a MEAN sunny-side up).
very non-traditional take on parenting that pisses off a lot of the other parents at your school. 100% says some shit like "you don't owe me shit just because i raised you. that's my job as your mom. you're your own person."
emotionally closed off 95% of the time. but when she does crack open? fucking emotional damage. it's always smth small. fixing your hair, murmuring that she's proud of you (without having an actual reason to say it), or even just when you catch her looking at you with nothing but motherly love in her gaze, like she never thought she'd get the chance to watch you grow into the person you've become. (see: she's proud of you)
never tells you much about her parents (im thinking you meet her mom like. once. then never again cus she started talking abt nat's dad), but also never talks shit about them. just says that her life wasn't 'the best'.
teaches you how to fight after you get picked on at school. not just physically, but how to stand up for yourself. how to tell someone to fuck off and mean it.
doesn't trust school counselors. or therapists. or cops. or any adult authority figure. she can fuck up, it's literally in the job description of 'mom' that you won't be perfect all the time, but god help anyone else who does.
catches you smoking cigs/weed once and, unsurprisingly, doesn't berate you or get mad at you for smoking it. she just gets mad at you for not telling her. tells you that if you wanna smoke, fine. just talk to her so "you don't get ripped off by some asshole selling you oregano." also makes you swear you'll talk to her if you ever start using harder stuff—god forbid you ever end up in a rehab facility like she's done countless times.
that being said, if nat is ever... 'out of the picture' for any length of time, 'cool aunt' van is there. let's just imagine that nat and van stayed in touch cus they were childhood besties. you spend like. anywhere from two weeks to two months with her whenever you go over, depending on the reason for nat's disappearance.
van teaches you a bunch of shit about old tech. shows you her favourite vhs tapes. calls you "lil' dude" regardless of your gender. gives you noogies.
is more hesitant than nat is when talking abt the substance stuff. usually just awkwardly laughs and deflects with some vague pop culture reference you're too young to understand
bonus: if you're queer, she gives you. like. a full history on queer media and legalization across the globe. also helps you find your style.
tl;dr: cool aunt van is always there to lend a hand when nat can't be around. she loves her "lil' dude".
awkward with affection. doesn't really know how to hug you (see: never had parental affection growing up so she doesn't know how to give it), so you usually have to initiate it—she will always return the hug, however.
shows her love in other ways that even she doesn't notice: memorizes your class schedule. slips some cash in your coat pocket when you say you're going out with friends. buys you little knick-knacks when she's out shopping bc she thinks you'd like it. and will always listen to you cry or complain or yap even if she doesn't know what to say, because that's what moms do—they listen.
shows up to your school high at 10am on a tuesday morning (wearing sunglasses, obviously), and tells your shitty ex off. just because she can.
rides the line between "cool mom" and "deeply traumatized guardian who's doing the best with no guidebook and too much damage" like she's an olympic athlete. because, yeah, she's far form perfect. she's gonna fuck up a lot. but she cares. and she stays, despite all of her trauma telling her to run. and, for her? shit, that's the biggest thing she could ever give you.
--not 'nsfw' but like. substance abuse stuff under the cut--
listen, if we're talking about older, post-rescue nat who has been thru hell and back, we can't ignore the fact she's deeply entangled with substance abuse.
she never hides the fact she used to use. doesn't glamorize it or lecture you about it either. just tells you straight up: "the comedown fucking sucks. it's not worth it." will also answer any* questions you have (*she may be extremely vague with the answer, but she will answer it).
keeps her chips tucked in the back of her nightstand. doesn't show them off (or even tell you she has them), but she touches them sometimes. just to remind herself. maybe she keeps them next to a photo of you, like an example of a direct reason she needs to stay sober.
if she is still using, it's not in front of you. she'd rather chew her own arm off than let you see her do a line or shoot up.
if she's sober, it's bc she's really trying. like... really trying. sometimes you hear her cry in the bathroom at night. sometimes she relapses. but she never lies to you about it. she won't tell you outright, but she won't lie if asked.
keeps narcan in the house. shows you how to use it and where it is. "just in case." she won't elaborate. you already know why.
sometimes she checks your pupils when you come home late or go out with people she knows use. not* to scold you—just because she knows the signs (*but she will ask if you trust the person you got it from. if the answer is no/uncertain, she doesn't sleep all night. checks in regularly to make sure you're breathing).
if you do try something, she doesn't get loud. no, she'll sit you down and give you the harsh reality of where this path could lead you. gives you fentanyl test strips. not bc she doesn't trust you, but because she doesn't trust other people. shows you how to use them, but reminds you that "even if there's no fent in it, you could still overdose. it's not fun."
sometimes she'll ask you to tag along to her NA meetings. not bc you need it, but bc she wants you to see that she's trying.
when she's sober, she's better at showing love. clumsy, but better. when she's not... she checks out a little. emotionally, mentally, physically... you can feel the gap even if you're sitting right next to her.
doesn't say she's sorry much. just tries to do better.
and, despite all the chaos and havoc it can bring, she never, NEVER, lays a hand on you. she's yelled a few times, but would sooner perform surgery on herself with a rusty razor in a back alley with no lighting before hitting you.
a/n: i've never lived with an addict but i've got my own experience with working w/ addicts and addiction. if anyone is struggling, pls know that help is available. can usa uk aus . if you don't have access to resources, please tell a trusted friend or family member. recovery is hard and a very long road, but it's so worth it.
summary: It's your one-year anniversary with Nat. You decide to give her a present she isn't expecting—a lap dance. Happy anniversary, Natalie.
request: I haven't watched Anora yet but I've watched a lot of her scenes on Tik Tok and I can't stop thinking about the scenario of doing a sensual dance for Nat just like Anora did for that guy😔✋️ Nat.exe has stopped working ( @theprismyyy )
wc: 1620
warnings: brief smut but it's mostly just foreplay, nat doesn't know wtf is going on
a/n: i still haven't seen anora, either. whoops
"Told you to stay sitting, Natalie." You say from behind her as she fidgets restlessly, "I told you that the surprise would be worth the wait, didn't I?" You gently place your hands on her shoulders, and she practically jumps from her wooden chair at the sensation. "Something's are worth the wait."
"You know I hate surprises," Nat mumbles, fighting every urge in her that screams TURN AROUND. "I know it's our anniversary, but you know—"
You squeeze down on her shoulders, and she stops talking, albeit petulantly. "Mm. Good."
Walking to the side of your bedroom, you press play on the mixtape you made specially for this night—something filled with songs you consider sexy—and make your way back over to her.
Nat—for all that she is—is not a patient person. So, the longer you spend behind her, the more antsy she becomes. It doesn't help that Red Light Special by TLC is playing, so she has a vague idea of what is about to happen—but has no idea the extent of what you're about to do.
So, her jaw drops when you finally walk in front of her, wearing the nicest set of underwear (some black Calvin Klein's) you own. Her eyes don't seem to know where to go, flashing from your chest, to your legs, to your hips, to your stomach, to your neck, and then repeating the path. "Oh." She finally manages to croak out, hands gripping the chair seat so tightly you worry the wood will splinter.
"Oh?" You parrot, grinning as you approach her slowly, trying your hardest to move in time to the music. "Natalie Scatorccio out of words? How rare. She always has something to say." When you finally reach the chair, Nat parts her legs instinctively to accommodate you standing between them, her jaw still slack. "It's actually kinda cute, really. All I had to do was act a little sexy, and you went brainless."
You let out a soft chuckle, watching her flustered state with amusement. "I didn't think you'd lose your words so easily, Nat." You tease, brushing a finger lightly against her cheek, just enough to make it tickle. Her grip on the chair tightens again, knuckles pale against the cherry wood.
You let the moment linger, with your pointer finger lightly tracing the edge of her jaw as the slow beat of Red Light Special amplifies the tension. Nat's chest rises and falls with short, shallow breaths, trying so hard to keep herself composed in the face of something she's never come close to encountering before—but the anticipation is evident in her eyes. She wants.
With deliberate slowness, you take a step back, letting her eyes trace your shape in the dim lighting. Then, you sway your hips to the beat, a soft, sensual rhythm, before turning around and walking behind her once again. You can vaguely hear the sound of her breath catching, but you say nothing—letting the anticipation build further.
The song switches, I'll Make Love To You by Boyz II Men, filling the space of your bedroom. You approach her with the switch in songs, running your fingers up and down her arms for a few beats. "You're doing so well, Natalie." You whisper, voice low and teasing against her ear, "I think it's time for the real show, don't you?"
You swear you can hear her whimper, but she would never admit it, and you would never bring it up.
Slowly, you walk back in front of her in time to the beat, then drop to your knees—a move that sends Nat's heart rate into orbit, as if it wasn't already skyrocketing. Her eyes never leave you, tongue darting out to wet her lips on instinct. You position yourself carefully over her—close enough so that she can feel your body heat, but just stop short of contact.
When your hands find purchase on her knees, you slowly push yourself up, letting her get a tantalizing look at your cleavage. "You always want to give." You murmur as you roll your head back, exposing your neck to her hungry gaze, "I think it's your turn to receive, Nat."
Nat's hands twitch against where she grips the chair, and you can tell she's fighting the urge to reach out and grab you, not wanting to seem too desperate. "I, I, I mean…" She stammers, blinking rapidly as you raise back to your full height, standing over her. "You, you, seriously. You don't have to… uh…" But she seems to lose her train of thought as you move to straddle her waist, hands on her shoulders as you rock your body against hers to the music.
"You can touch me, you know." You whisper breathily against her ear, "Hardly fun if your hands aren't all over me."
It's like she was just waiting for your words—because the second you're done speaking, her hands are greedily squeezing your hips. Her fingers press into the soft flesh there as you rock against her, your hands running up and down her chest as you move.
"Jesus Christ…" Nat mumbles, unsure where to keep her gaze as you move sensually to the beat. "You… shit. I…" Zero coherent thoughts remain in her head, her entire brain clouded with how you move on top of her, just for her. No one else gets you like this, meaning you practised this little routine just for her. "Oh, Jesus fuck…"
You let out a low laugh, pressing yourself flush against her body when her hands drift to your ass, squeezing gratefully at the smooth skin. "Yeah, baby? Can't think of anything?" On the next chorus, you move your chest level to her face, just close enough so you can feel her breathing—which might just be panting at this point—against your breasts. "No thoughts inside that pretty little head of yours." You murmur as you push a hand through her hair, something which results in a sharp squeeze of your ass.
"Fuck, I don't… I just… I…" Yeah, you could say there are no thoughts inside her head, and you'd probably be right. With her face level to your chest and your hands in her hair, it's honestly a shock she isn't drooling. But when you rock yourself closer at the song switch, Nat can't help but bury her face in between your cleavage, groaning against your skin.
"Yeah, there you go." You grin, holding the back of her head as you continue to move to the beat, "This is for you, baby. Take what you need."
Nat moans against your chest at those words, hands kneading against the flesh of your ass greedily as her teeth come out to trace the edge of your bra. The scent of your perfume is even more prominent now, as is the smell of your skin, and it's intoxicating to the blonde underneath you.
With one hand tangled in her hair, you let the other roam across Nat's body—from her neck to her shoulders, then down her side as she remains with her head between your breasts, occasionally nipping at the soft flesh as the songs continue to play in the background.
"Come on, baby." You purr as you roll your hips against hers, "I know you've got more in you than that."
Nat lets out a low moan, hands moving back to your hips as she rocks against you. "God…" She breathes, head tilting to look up at you, "You… you're so pretty." Her eyes are wide and hungry as they gaze up at you, and at this moment, you know you've genuinely melted Natalie Scatorccio's brain.
She drags one of her palms from your hip to your knee, then to your stomach, her eyes now following the path her fingers are taking. "Can I?" She mumbles, fingers playing with the waistband of your underwear. "I wanna… touch you."
You laugh warmly at that, moving the hand that was on her side to grab her wrist, encouraging it under the waistband of your panties. "I told you, baby. This is for you. Take what you need."
"Oh," Nat mumbles as her fingers slide past the elastic, "shit, yeah. I…" Her voice trails off the lower her hand goes, and once the pads of her fingers slide over your wetness, she has to bite back a small whimper.
"Yeah, there you go." You grin down at her, feeling the pleasure from even the slightest touch, "It's all yours, baby. Take whatever you want. Whatever you need." Another roll of your hips into hers to punctuate your statement.
Nat lets out a soft gasp at the slick beneath her fingers, "Oh my God." She mumbles, hand stilling in surprise before resuming its previous task. "Oh my God." She repeats, her hips rocking up into yours again, "You feel so… oh my God…"
Another low laugh leaves your lips as you continue to move against her hand, "You like that? You like knowing how turned on I get for you, Nat?" You release her wrist and move your hand back to her shoulder, getting a better grip to aid in the movements of your hips.
The blonde nods frantically, her free hand now gripping the meat of your thighs, nails biting into the flesh hard enough to leave small crescent marks in their wake. She watches you with wide, lust-blown eyes, transfixed and hypnotized by your every movement. "You're so fucking wet." She says in sheer awe, "I... holy shit."
The song switches again, and as it does, you lean down to brush your lips against her ear, "I am. And I think we have a long night ahead of us, Natalie."
Nat whimpers at your words.
It will be a long night, indeed.
a/n: do u guys know how weird it is watching lap dance videos for reference. sometimes writing is so weird. fucking googling the weirdest shit. sometimes i wonder if i'm on the fbi's radar (i'm not even american)
yapping yapping to you
dudeeee. have you seen how nat treated mari's brat ass (and some of shauna's, too)? i was like: panties? where? *inserts that meme of an emoji with a dangling lingerie*
like, the way her care and natural protective instincts kick in, even though others might give two fucks about her 😭😭 my baby, come here, i'll take care of youuuuu
imagining a brat!reader making nat's days a living hell, but she can't possibly lash out, so she puts reader into a time-out (house arrest tf), or even brings them their portion of the food into their hut, ending up in nat "teaching reader" how to behave 😇 yuk, an innocent lesson
what if i said i wanted to be put in my place. what then. what if i said i need to piss nat off until she snaps at me, realises that i liked it, and then does it again?
nsfw blurb / smut / gn!afab!reader / porn w some plot / self-indulgent / not proofread we die like the cabin at the end of s2/ wc: 1260
natalie stands outside your shelter, the fresh scent of damp earth and cool spring air brushing past. the spring out here is deceptive—warmer than the cruel winter was but still bitter in the mornings and evenings. the soft hum of insects punctuate the silence that settles in the dim light of the evening.
inside, you restlessly lay on your makeshift bedroll, leg bouncing as you trace the light strips that filter through the gaps in your structure with your eyes. when she finally steps in—carrying a wooden bowl of stew—you glance up with a cocky grin that you already know nat will not like.
"well, well." you drawl, sitting up. "The Queen herself. To what do I owe the pleasure on this fine evening?"
nat doesn't bite. she places the bowl on the tree stump in front of you unceremoniously. "dinner," she says simply, straightening and crossing her arms.
"wow, room service?" you let out a low whistle, leaning back and lacing your fingers behind your head. "i gotta say, i'm kinda liking this whole 'house arrest' thing, you know? the perks are nice." a beat, "actually, is it too much to ask, or could i get some dessert?"
her jaw clenches, but she manages to keep her voice in check. "you seriously think this is funny?"
"i mean... yeah." you shrug. "let's be real, nat. you're supposed to be running this place or whatever, but here you are, babysitting me." you groan and sit back up, "doesn't really scream..." a beat as you feign thought, "fearsome leader, you know?"
nat's eyes narrow, and you swear you can feel the frustration radiating off of her. the distant sounds of the wilderness around you seems to grow at the sudden tension, filling the space between you two. "you really wanna test how far i'll go?"
your grin falters slightly, but you can't deny the subtle rush that builds inside of you at the way her voice lowers. "what are you gonna do? give me another stern talking-to?"
she steps closer, her worn combat boots crunching against the forest floor. she leans down just enough to meet your gaze, her voice shifting to that tone she knows gets you weak. “no. talking doesn’t seem to work with you.”
before you can fire back a retort, she's grabbing your jaw with her right hand and squeezing. "you aren't leaving this hut until i say so, and honestly?" her voice lowers further, "i don't think you deserve to leave after all this shit you've pulled, do you?"
you stare up at her, unsure if you're supposed to be feeling afraid, aroused, or both."uh…" you blink a few times, "wow, nat. you really got the whole… 'scary leader' thing down. i'm shaking in my boots."
a scoff leaves her lips, but she doesn't visibly react further to your sarcasm. "you can joke all you want, yeah? but we both know you'll listen to what i say. because if you don't…" her eyes flash down to your lips for a moment, "well, they don't last very long."
your stomach twists, but not because you're scared. well, maybe a little. but mostly? well, mostly you're just aroused.
and nat knows, if the way she smirks is any indication. "yeah. you know that, don't you?" her voice carries a teasing lilt that does unpleasant (but not unwelcome) things to your insides. "all you really want is to be put in your place." she grips your jaw a little tighter, "open your mouth more."
you do. your lips part on command, and you're rewarded with nat spitting into your mouth slowly. "close. don't swallow." you do as she asks, of course. there's no way she doesn't know you're ruining your underwear right about now.
you swear you haven't taken a breath in a million years as she looks down at you, eyes sharp and calculating. "good. swallow." you comply, maintaining eye contact, then open your mouth to show her that you listen.
nat grins. "look at you. you can listen."
she gives you a firm shove back onto your bedroll and follows you down. "but i think i still need to prove my point."
one of her hands slides underneath the waistband to your pants without hesitation, and it takes everything in her to not make a sound of satisfaction at how wet you are already. "jesus. already?" she manages, the words almost coming out in a whine and breaking this facade of control. "you're fucking soaked."
"can't help it." you reply immediately, already feeling the fight in you leave the second she gets her hands on you, "it's you. you do this to me." you're already clenching around nothing, staring up at nat's form over your body with an expression of pure want. "please."
the girl almost scoffs at how quick you get to begging, considering it usually takes far longer to break you down. "damn. that was fast. you a little desperate?"
"fuck you—" you try and start, but your protests are quickly cut off with a sudden push of her forefinger into your cunt. "oh—"
"that's what i thought." she grins, starting to move her finger without giving you time to get used to the intrusion. "all talk and no game, yeah? not so big once someone actually starts taking charge."
your fingers dig into the soil around your bedroll, knowing better than to grab onto her right now. "that's not fair—"
another finger. "nothing is fucking fair." she bites, leaning down closer to your face, "we're trapped in the middle of goddamn nowhere, and you're talking to me about fair?" a harsh scoff leaves her lips as she begins pumping her fingers faster, "life isn't fucking fair."
you'd make a smart reply to that if you could, but it's sort of hard to do when her fingers are ruthlessly fucking in and out of you, your wetness soaking into the fabric of your underwear. "already so worked up." she tsks, "bet i could give you a third finger right now and you'd—"
she does.
three fingers deep, fingers curling in and out of your pussy with a passion that only nat can possess, you groan and throw your head back.
nat slaps her free hand over your mouth with a hiss, "jesus! do you want them to hear what's going on in here?" her fingers never cease in their actions as her gaze flicks to the entrance for a moment, watching to make sure no one is about to walk in on you two. "shit, i would never hear the end of this…" she murmurs before returning her gaze to you, hardening it slightly. "should have known you wouldn't be able to keep quiet."
she grinds her palm against your clit with every crook of her fingers, and you can barely keep your eyes open at the harsh movements she fucks you with—pain and pleasure blurring together somewhere along the way.
her breath ghosts over your ear as she leans down, and you can feel her smirk. "you're gonna come for me, and when you do, it's gonna happen again." you whine, and she chuckles lowly in response. "and again. until i fucking decide that you've finally understood how to listen to fucking orders."you stare up at her with wide eyes when she pulls her face back slightly, and nat's grin only widens further. "and we both know you have a hard time following orders." her fingers find that one spot, and you swear you see stars—"so i think it's gonna be a long night."
request: van taking care of the reader after drinking too much and the reader embarrassed herself saying how pretty they are or that she wants to be more then friends (@modernvenuss)
wc: 1820
warnings: intoxication (reader), alluding to throwing up but nothing described, fluff at the end i promise, not proofread we die like coach ben's leg
a/n: i'm assuming this was young van since it wasn't specified 😭if i am wrong i am so sorry
"Oooooooookay." As you lean on her shoulder to support yourself, Van laughs, " Someone has had too many beers."
"I have not." You say, definitely not slurring your words in the slightest. "I just had… like… a few pulls from the keg…" A small hiccup and giggle follow your words, and then a sheepish grin splits across your features.
Van rolls her eyes as she grabs the car keys from your pocket and unlocks it, "Right… and what is your definition of 'a few'? Five? Six? Ten?" She laughs, "I thought you were good at math."
"I am," leaves your lips in a grumble. "I'm really good at math."
"Right." Van agrees as she unlocks the door to your mom's Toyota, "I think these AP Precalculus classes aren't doing you any good. I would, personally, reconsider attending them if they aren't doing you any good." The passenger side door opens up, and she ushers you into the seat, clicking your seatbelt into place despite your protests.
"Vaaaaaaaaaaan." You whine petulantly as she closes the door, leaving you alone in the car for a few seconds. She moves to the driver's seat, sticking the keys in the ignition and bringing the car to life. "C'mon. Just a little while longer. I heard Jackie talking about—"
"Nope." Van cuts you off, popping the 'p,' "We are leaving."
"Where are we going?" You continue to whine, glancing over at the redhead with what you hope is the equivalent of puppy-dog eyes.
She can't fight the grin that appears on her face, and her voice shifts slightly, "The Fourth World. It's sort of like Heaven, only better, because there aren't any Christians. It's an absolute paradise of music, art and pure enjoyment."
You stare at her deadpan. "Did you just quote Heavenly Creatures to me?"
A laugh spills from her mouth as the car slides into gear, pulling away from the curb. "Oh, so you aren't drunk enough to walk, but you're drunk enough to remember lines from a movie?"
"A movie that you've made me watch, like, ten times!" You grumble, throwing your arms up in frustration, which is honestly just a result of you being drunk more than anything else. "So it's… like… your fault, or whatever."
"You did not have to watch it with me, but you did. So, you're at fault here." She grins, clearly proud of herself. "But, just so you know, I'm taking you back home. So you can pass out on your bed instead of the front lawn of the Taylor's house." Van glances at you once the car reaches a stop sign and nudges your shoulder gently before returning her hand to the wheel, "You're gonna thank me in the morning."
You grumble out something similar to a curse—which earns you an eye roll—and you rest your head against the window, looking at the houses that pass by in the night.
At some point during the drive, you roll your window down, a soft exhale leaving your lips as the night air washes over your face. It's warm out, but not warm enough that it's uncomfortable. You close your eyes and let the feeling of the wind against your face lull you into some state of soberness, and you don't even notice the words leaving your lips as they do.
"I really like you, Van." You mumble out so quietly you're almost positive the words are just bouncing around your head rather than being spoken out loud. "Like… a lot. You're always there for me when I need you, and you're really pretty." A soft sigh leaves your lips, and you feel the bumps in the road start to soothe you into a state of unconsciousness. "Sometimes I wish we were more than friends."
The next little while is a blur.
You vaguely remember Van helping you out of the car and into your house, and you swear she said something important to you after helping remove your shoes, but you can't remember what it was for the life of you.
The morning comes with a thundering headache and nausea that makes you feel like you'd rather be dead.
Maybe you did have a few too many beers last night. Whoops.
You nearly fall off your bed in an attempt to get up, scowling slightly when you realise you're still in last night's clothes. "Fuck me," comes out of your mouth with a wave of stale beer and… cigarettes? You don't even smoke. What the hell were you doing last night?
All sticky and gross, you manage to stumble out of your bedroom and into the hallway, making a beeline for the bathroom. You don't even bother flicking the lightswitch on as you fall to your knees in front of the toilet and—
Well, I'm sure you're quite aware of what you did.
At some point, you hear a gentle murmur from the door and feel someone rest their hand on your upper back, earning a soft groan from you in response to the sudden presence. As you slowly blink yourself back into existence, you glance away from the toilet and come face-to-face with a very blurry… Van?
"Y're still here?" You mumble out, exhausted and hungover, "Why didn' y'go home?"
"'cus I didn't have anyone to drive me there. I can't steal your mom's car; she'd kill me." Van rolls her eyes and cleans your face up with a handtowel, "Because I knew you were gonna be hungover, and I didn't want to leave you alone in the morning. Your parents are still on vacation."
You make a small sound at that—one that you aren't quite sure what it's supposed to convey—and rest your head back on your arm with a grunt. "I wanna die."
Van scoffs, "Yeah, I grabbed some Tylenol from the medicine cabinet when I heard you in here. You can take it when you stop throwing up." She gently wipes some sweat from your forehead, and your eyes fall closed at the tender action.
You lay with your head on the toilet seat for about another ten minutes before Van decides you aren't about to throw up again anytime soon and moves you back to your bedroom, giving you some fresh clothes to wear before stepping out of your room to let you change.
She returns with a knock five minutes later, peeking her head into the room with a bottle of water and a bowl of apple sauce. "Don't know how much you can keep down right now, so… this will have to do. I'm pretty sure this apple sauce was expired, but it's… probably fine." Van grins at you, and you genuinely can't tell if she's joking or not as she takes a seat on the side of your bed. "Also got you some painkillers for your head." She places the water bottle on your nightstand and grabs the pill container from her pocket, "Hoping you can keep them down."
You smile at her gratefully, taking the apple sauce from her hands. "I… uh… shit. I feel like I owe you something."
"Three pennies and a ball o' lint, kiiiddd." She grins wide, all teeth. "Nah, you don't owe me anything. I got to crash on your couch last night and not deal with my mom, so… I think that debt is already paid." A beat, "Oh! I also stole some Fruit by the Foot. Sorry." But you both know she's far from sorry.
A quiet chuckle leaves your mouth, which causes you to wince in pain at the throbbing in your head. Van, ever the angel, takes two pills from the bottle and passes it to you alongside the water.
An awkward silence follows you swallowing down the pills, and you aren't quite sure why Van can't meet your eyes until she breaks that tense air that surrounds you. "So, uh… just outta curiosity, how much do you remember from last night?"
You blink a few times and exhale softly through your nose, "I… uh…"
Your eyes go wide.
"Oh, shit, Van, I didn't mean it—I mean, I did, but I also didn't mean to say it like that—" A frustrated groan parts from your lips, and you let your head fall back against the pillow behind you. "I'm sorry."
There's a long moment of silence, and you start to worry that you've crossed a line last night, already cursing yourself for ruining a friendship that you've had for years—
She's laughing.
Van is laughing.
Loud and boisterous like she usually does, hand pressed to her stomach as she leans forward. "Oh, shit. You meant it." She keeps laughing, and you honestly aren't quite sure what to do at this point. Yes, her laughter is starting to hurt your head, but it's also nice to hear her laugh, so you don't stop it. Which is probably a mistake, considering you've listened to her laugh for what you're pretty sure was an hour straight before, but whatever.
Van takes a breath, her grin softening. She reaches out and rests her hand on yours, her fingers warm and steady. "Listen," she starts, her tone gentler than usual. "I laughed because it caught me off guard, not 'cause I don't feel the same."
You swear your heart stutters for a moment, and you feel wide awake despite being dead tired moments ago. "Wait… what?"
She shrugs, "I mean, yeah, you’re pretty great. Always have been. And you’re not bad to look at—when you’re not puking your guts out." She smirks, but there’s a blush creeping up her cheeks. "I just didn’t think you’d... you know, feel that way."
"I didn’t think you would, either," you admit quietly, glancing down at the point where her hand rests on yours, "You’re always so... confident, Van. I figured you were way out of my league."
"We're best friends, idiot." Van rolls her eyes, her grin resurfacing. "So, by default, that makes us in the same league, actually." A beat, that grin softening again, a warmth appearing in her eyes you've only ever seen a small handful of times before. "So, what do you say? Once you’re not hungover and smelling like a brewery, maybe we... see where this goes?" She gently squeezes your hand to prove her point.
You laugh, the sound scratchy but genuine. "I’d like that. But you better bring me more Fruit by the Foot. I think my brother is gonna kill you when he gets back with my parents."
"Deal, and I'll deal with your brother. He's twelve. Not that hard to beat up." Van grins, standing up and brushing imaginary dust off her jeans. "Now, drink that water, finish your expired applesauce, and let me figure out how to fake a doctor’s note to get us out of school tomorrow."
"Why do you even know how to do that?"
She winks. "Because I’m awesome. And now, apparently, I’m yours."
summary: Natalie shows up at your window. When was the last time she showed up without an agenda? You can't remember.
pairing: natalie scatorccio x afab!reader (no pronouns used)
warnings: smut(afab!reader), angst in my pants
wc: 2440
ao3
TAP
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TAP TAP TAP
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TAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAP—
You throw the blinds of the window open, coming face-to-face with a drunken Natalie Scatorccio, her knuckles stilling against the glass pane of your window.
"Heyyyyyy—" The blonde grins through the window, pulling her hand back to awkwardly wave, "Can I… uh…" She gestures to the window.
You stare blankly at her for a solid fifteen seconds.
"It's three in the morning, Natalie."
Nat makes a face and shrugs in response, "Please?"
With a heavy, reluctant sigh, you unlatch your window, and Nat immediately stumbles into your bedroom, falling face-first onto your carpet. "Really?" You ask flatly, staring down at her, "You reek of smoke and booze, by the way."
She grunts at that, pushing herself off the floor, "Don't I always?" Brushing imaginary dust off the lapel of her leather jacket, she takes stock of your room. "Room looks the same."
You roll your eyes. "You were here a week ago, Natalie. Of course, it looks the same."
Nat shoots you a glare as she takes off her leather jacket, seemingly making herself at home despite you not offering. "Whatever. My room looks different every night." She throws her jacket onto a desk chair, "I like that yours is… stationary, or whatever." She pauses at the foot of your bed, and you already know what she's here for. You don't have to ask—it's not the first time, and it won't be the last. "It's nice, I guess."
But that catches you off-guard. "What? What do you mean… nice?"
She shrugs, hands in the pockets of her jeans as she glances around your room again, "I dunno. It's, like… nice to have something in my life that isn't constantly changing." The words come out so quietly that you aren't even sure if you've heard them, and you have to blink a few times to make sure you didn't hallucinate.
"Are you saying I'm something in your life that stays the same?"
Nat scowls at that and crosses her arms. "No. I-I'm saying your room stays the same. This is just… you're just…" She sighs, frown ever-present on her face. "Whatever."
"Whatever." You parrot with a sigh, running a hand through your hair as you sit back on the bed, "I'd ask why you were here, but I think I know the answer."
"What? You think I'm only here for the sex? Her lip twitches at the comment, but there's a lack of heat behind her words. Nat knows what this looks like. She isn't blind. She shows up, you two fuck, then she leaves. When you two interact at school, you never talk about what happens behind your bedroom door.
You don't comment on it.
She doesn't comment on it either when moving to stand before you, looking down with a tense jaw. "You still want this, yeah?" Nat asks softly, starkly contrasting how tense she appears right now. "Because we don't—"
You shake your head immediately, fisting your hands into her shirt, "No, no. I didn't say that. I just…" A sigh leaves your lips. You've never been good at saying no to Nat. "Yeah. I want this."
Nat doesn't hesitate at that, leaning down to kiss you, slotting her lips against yours as she moves to sit in your lap. Her mouth is warm, wet, and eager against yours. With her arms wrapping around your neck and fingers tangled into your hair, she grinds herself down against you, chest meeting yours with a sharp gasp.
Your tongue presses into her mouth when her lips part and battles for dominance, a struggle she quickly ends when she pulls back to remove her shirt, leaving her clad in a black sports bra. You'd open your mouth to say something, but she's pulling back completely to discard her pants, and you realise that she has no intention of taking things slow—not that she ever has.
Your clothes are discarded just as quickly as hers are, flying somewhere on your floor, and Nat is finding her way down to your bed and making herself comfortable. "C'mere." She asks breathlessly, reaching out to grab your face and pull it back to hers.
There's a sense of familiarity behind the kiss, something that only comes with knowing someone as intimately as you know Nat, even if she'd deny it to her dying breath.
Either way, the kiss is wet and messy, with strings of saliva connecting your lips every time the kiss breaks for a moment. Your knee finds its way between her thighs, pressing against her center, and she doesn't hesitate to grind down against the offering.
It's a ritual as old as time, and it's a ritual that's become far too familiar the past few months. Your lips leave her mouth to press against her neck, leaving wet kisses across the pale skin as you slide your fingers under the waistband of her panties. Your lips pause in their frantic movement and break into a grin when you feel the slick that's collected in the damp heat.
"Fuck, you're so wet already." You murmur as your fingers part her folds, exploring for a few moments before coming to circle her clit. "And you're already so sensitive, Nat."
"Just been a while." She grunts out, some sort of excuse for how desperate she seems for your touch, but both of you know she doesn't get this way with anyone else.
"Been a week." A kiss to the side of her neck as your fingers begin to find rhythm, "Not that long, really."
Nat doesn't give a reply to that, knowing her voice would come out far too uneven for a sharp comment. There's no denying how eager she seems for your touch, either. Not with the way her hips cant upwards, chasing the feeling your fingers give her as you begin to rock yourself against her thigh.
Your lips resume their wet kisses, leaving dark marks that will fade come morning, occasionally stopping to whisper encouragements into her ear about how good she is for you or that she feels so good underneath your fingers. Nat whines with every word of praise you whisper into her ear, and her nails dig gently into your back as she relaxes under you.
Satisfied with yourself, you move the fingers that have been teasing her clit down, your middle finger teasing her entrance for a few moments before sinking into the wet heat.
Nat gasps, back arching off the bed and nails digging further into your back. "Yeah—" She breathes out, "More—"
You click your tongue at that, "Maybe I wanna hear you beg for it, Nat."
The blonde whines and slaps uselessly at your back, but she knows it's futile—you've always been this way with her. The teasing that turns her on to no end, even if she'd never admit it. "Fuck, don't be like this."
A low laugh leaves your lips as your finger sits idle inside her, "No. I think you like it when I act like this." A beat, "Beg."
Nat hesitates, pouting as she strongly debates not begging.
But, much like you, she always gives in. "Please." She whines into your ear, "Please. Please. Fuck, please. I'm begging, baby. Please."
Baby. That stupid fucking name that you never could show any resistance to.
You add your ring finger and begin moving your hand the way you've come to learn she loves. "See, there you go. You're such a good girl, you know that?"
While you might be weak to 'baby,' Nat is powerless to being called a 'good girl.'
She keens at your praise, nodding rapidly as her breathing comes out in short pants. "Yeah, yeah, thank you—"
You hum, pressing a kiss to the side of her jaw as you grind your palm down against her clit, and your hips begin to rock against her thigh again. "You're welcome, baby."
"Baby." Nat nods, "Baby, baby, baby—" You don't need her to tell you that she's getting close; you can feel it in the way her pussy starts pulsing around your fingers, seemingly trying to draw them in deeper. "Please." She begs, past the point of caring about her humility.
"No." You shake your head, moving your hips faster and harder against her thigh, "Wait. Wait. I'm… fuck, give me a minute."
The girl whimpers in turn, shaking her head vigorously, "Fuck, I-I can't—"
"You can." You cut her off, palm grinding against her clit again as your fingers brush against her g spot. "You have before, and you will now."
Nat is writhing under you, both pulling away and pushing towards your hand before some sort of fog lifts from her brain, and she realises that she can expedite this process.
Her hand moves to your slick cunt that's been rocking against her thigh and dives her fingers into your folds, fingers quickly finding and circling your clit with reckless abandon.
You groan at the added contact, and your eyes slip shut as your mouth falls open in a silent moan. "Fuck, yeah, Nat. Like that—"
Breathless gasps and pants fill the small room as your fingers continue to fuck in and out of her. Nat's nails bite into your back again, this time hard enough you worry that they'll draw blood. But that's fine—not like it would be the first time it's happened between the two of you.
When Nat's whimpers and whines reach a peak, you finally give her the words she's been seeking for the past two minutes, "Come for me."
And she does. With a whimpered sound you're pretty sure is supposed to be a 'thank you,' she clenches around your fingers and does just as you ask. The sound she makes would probably be called pathetic in any other circumstance, but right now? Well, right now, it might be the hottest thing you've ever heard.
You follow not long after, hips stuttering against her thigh and a low groan spilling from your lips into the taut skin of her neck.
When both of you come down from that high, you retract your fingers from her and move off her thigh, flopping onto the bed beside her with a grunt.
Then, with some random thought in the back of your head, you press your fingers against her lips, "C'mon." You murmur, "Clean off my fingers for me."
Nat looks at you in shock, genuinely surprised you're asking this when you never have before, but her lips part all the same. Your fingers press against her tongue, and she grabs your wrist while keeping eye contact (despite the furious blush that colours her cheeks) as she proceeds to clean your fingers of the mess she made.
"Good fucking girl." You breathe out in approval, jaw falling slightly slack at the feeling of her tongue sliding between your fingers, cleaning each one thoroughly.
At the praise, her eyes squeeze shut with a sound you swear is a whimper.
When you pull your hand back, her eyes flutter open, but not before you smear saliva down her neck and the top of her chest.
"That's gross." She mumbles petulantly, unable to meet your eyes, face still coloured like a tomato.
"Nah, it's hot." You grin down at her, gently turning her face to look into her eyes. Your expression softens as you see the look in them. "You're leaving." You say quietly, a statement rather than a question.
Nat exhales softly through her nose, grabbing your wrist and pulling your hand away from her face, "I… I need to get back home." She lies, and she's never been a good liar.
"Yeah." You say quietly, dropping your hand back on the bed. "You… you don't wanna even… stay for another round?" A tense laugh leaves your throat, and Nat frowns uncomfortably. "...you don't wanna stay the night?" You add on as an afterthought, disappointment lacing your tone.
"You know that's not a good idea." Nat whispers in return, "I… I can't."
"No." You say, "You won't, Nat. There's a difference."
The blonde's jaw tenses as she sits up on your bed, legs swinging over the edge as she looks for her clothes in the dark. "What does it matter if I won't? We aren't together."
Her words sting, even if they're true, and you watch her get dressed from where you lay on your bed, now feeling far too spacious for just one person. "I… I know." You murmur, "But it would just be nice if—"
"I'm not that type of person." She cuts you off as she pulls her pants up, "I thought you knew that when this started."
You shrink further into yourself, "I just thought that, as friends—"
"With benefits." She cuts you off, "Friends with benefits. Not dating, not 'seeing each other,' just fucking now and then." You swear you can see her walls going up the longer she speaks, "This is just sex, nothing more."
"Nothing more." You repeat, grabbing your own shirt from the floor next to the bed, "Yeah."
For a moment, you think you see her falter, actions slowing as she puts her leather jacket on. Some delusional part of you thinks she'll stay, that she'll leave more than just the scent of her fucking dollar store cologne on your pillows, but it's gone before you have the chance to ruminate on it.
"Yeah." She agrees with a grunt, walking back over to your window. "I'll… see you in class tomorrow." And then she's gone, like a ghost in the night, hopping through your window and onto the grass below with a soft thud, much more graceful than when she came in.
You walk over to your window, locking it shut as you watch Nat walk off into the night, digging her box of smokes from her pocket and bringing one to her lips just before she walks out of view. You tug your curtains shut, trying to block the memory of her leaving from your mind and fall back into your bed, pressing your nose into the pillow where she once resided.
Cigarette smoke, cheap booze, shitty cologne, and something that just smells like Nat.
You'll hate yourself in the morning for letting this happen again. Hell, you hate yourself right now for letting it happen again.
But her smell against your pillow brings you some weird sense of calm, and you know you'll let her in the next time she knocks at your window and every time that follows.
You've never had a backbone when it comes to Nat.
You doubt you ever will.
a/n: van x reader fic next. or crush. one of the two. either way, they will come out before anything else does
request: Sex with nat for the first time? maybe r is a virgin or they both are, either way I think nat would be really sweet and comforting esp if r is nervous. Oh and maybe some aftercarr, like a bit of cuddling or smthn. Can either be post crash or pre, anything is good. (🤺)
a/n: reader is a virgin, nat has only been with dudes so she still has no idea what to do, pre-crash
"So." Nat grins at you as she walks into your bedroom (wearing your shirt and her shorts, like usual) and closes the door behind her. "Your parents are…" She hums with a mischievous look on her face as she approaches you on the bed, the novel you were reading discarded in favour of something much more entertaining. "Away for the weekend…"
"They are, yes." You look up at her with a dumb grin when she moves to stand at the foot of your bed, "Which means we can smoke weed indoors!" You laugh to yourself at the comment, but the way Nat shakes her head at you says she has something else in mind.
"We could do that—and we will—but…" She giggles and hurries herself onto the bed and into your lap, and you don't need her to say anything else. You wrap your arms around her and immediately kiss her, laughing into her lips as her hands find your shoulders.
When Nat breaks the kiss, her grin is just as wide as before. "I was thinking we could do something better."
You grin back at her, "Yeah? What's that?"
Nat pulls back slightly to remove her shirt, revealing her red bra and pale skin, but you don't get time to marvel at the sight before her lips are back on yours, and she's pushing herself against your chest, rocking her hips.
You make a sound of surprise into her mouth at the sudden eagerness to apparently get naked, but it's hardly a protest.
The girl in your lap sees it as one, however. "This… is this okay?" She asks quietly, pulling back to get a read on your face. "I just thought—"
"No! No! Wait, no." You shake your head immediately, hands finding their way to her hips, "It's more than okay! Okay? I'm just… surprised." A disbelieving, nervous laugh bubbles out of your throat, "I'm just…" The nervous smile falls, "Little nervous."
Nat gently places her hand on your neck, green eyes meeting yours with a soft understanding. "We can go slow, yeah?" She whispers, thumb brushing against your cheekbone. "Your pace."
"My—my pace?" Another nervous laugh, "I don't… I don't know what my pace is. I've never…"
She rolls her eyes fondly, "I know you've never, dumbass." She leans down to kiss you slowly, hips moving against yours again.
This time, the kiss is less rushed and more tender. You can feel the way she pours her affection for you into the kiss in the way her tongue takes its time to explore your mouth, the way she curls her arms around you in an effort to be as close as humanly possible, the way she wants.
It's not long before your shirt is being discarded along with her shorts, but she watches you hesitate for a moment to remove your own pants.
"Hey." Nat says softly, "It's okay, okay? We don't—"
You shake your head again, fingers a little shaky as you finally discard your sweatpants, "No, no. I want this." You look back at her and smile shyly, "Want you."
Nat bites her lip and grins at your form, looking far too excited. She takes a shaky breath in, then immediately climbs back in your lap and returns to kissing.
She slowly lays you down on the bed without breaking the kiss, her lips warm and wet against yours, hands roaming and mapping any bare skin she can find eagerly.
When she finally pulls back, her smile is just as wide as it was earlier and no less genuine. "Honestly?" Nat chuckles, hands resting on your shoulder. "I also have no idea what I'm doing. I may know how to kiss you, but I've got no idea how to actually do anything else. We can learn together, yeah?" One of her hands moves to push some hair out of your eyes gently, "And it's just me. I've literally seen you throw up behind a dumpster after you drank too much at a party and then immediately proceed to bawl your eyes out. Not like you gotta pretend or anything."
Her words and eyes are as soft as her smile has become, and you believe her. You swallow down that nervousness and nod, leaning up to capture her lips with yours again.
Your breath hitches when Nat trails one of her hands down between the two of you, and she pulls back momentarily, to which you immediately nod; then her lips are back on yours, and her fingers slide underneath the waistband of your underwear.
Nat's fingers are slightly hesitant as they slide through your slick folds, a quiet sound leaving her lips at the feeling of it. Her fingertips are probably a little colder than they should be, but that just makes the experience better, no? A little bit of… sensory play? You think that's what they call it. Either way, it has you arching into her touch and sliding your arms around her neck, keeping her mouth close to yours as her fingers continue to collect your wetness and tease the area.
When her lips move to your neck, you take in deep, shaky breaths. Nervous? Yes. Excited? Yes. "Oh." You exhale, "Fuck, that, uh, feels good."
The laugh that leaves Nat is low and warm, and she pulls back slightly to speak, "I've barely even started." A short kiss to your jaw, "But I can." And with another kiss to your jaw, her fingers move to circle your clit, and you sharply exhale the second contact is made.
"Oh."
"Oh?" Nat parrots, fingers slowly starting to find pace and rhythm. "I take it that's a good 'oh'?"
You groan in annoyance and pull her head back up to meet your lips again, kissing her to shut her up.
It's a very effective method, you find.
You aren't quite sure how long her fingers focus on your clit, but for someone who has never been with another girl before, she sure as hell knows every single button to push. One of her fingers presses into you, and she swallows the sound that leaves your mouth, then pulls back just enough to speak. "Yeah?" She breathes out, to which you nod rapidly, and she adds another finger after a few moments, "Yeah."
Her fingers take their time initially, but once she feels you relax and get comfortable, they start to pick up speed and crook themselves inside of you. Nat's confidence grows with every quirk of her fingers, and you don't even fully register when her hips begin to move against your thigh, chasing her own pleasure.
With shaky hands, you slide your fingers against the damp patch growing in her underwear, the fabric beginning to slide against your skin like something akin to silk.
"Fuck, yeah." Nat breathes out, hips pressing against your fingers with every rock of her hips against your thigh. With that encouragement, you push your hand under the waistband and find her clit (with a little bit of struggle, which she doesn't comment on, but instead thinks you're better than the guys she's been with at doing that), and she starts moving her body with feverish urgency.
Your other hand grasps the bedsheets, hips rocking against her hand in time with the movement of her fingers inside of you. "Fuck, yes, Nat." You feel yourself clench rhythmically around her fingers, orgasm growing closer with every undulation.
"Y-yeah?" She lets out a breathless laugh as your fingers start frantically rubbing at her clit in an effort to get her there as quickly as you seem to be. "You feel good, for the record." Nat sits up straight and moves her free hand to rest on your stomach to aid the gyration of her hips. "Like… really good." Her eyes fall shut as her head falls back, and you feel yourself start to fall apart just watching her look like she's in sheer bliss.
Nat hisses when she feels your fingers clench down around her, and she stops the movement of her hips against you in order to apply her full focus to push you over that edge and—
Damn, you do.
Your back arches up off the bed, your hand that was clenching bedsheets shooting out to grab at her wrist, nails biting the skin. "Fuck!" Your breath catches as your head comes off the bed before slamming back down, waves of the orgasm crashing over you in slow shivers.
The second yours is done, Nat's fingers are out of you and gripping the thigh she isn't sitting on, riding with a renewed passion as breathless whimpers fall from her lips.
Not one to leave your girl hanging, you quickly start working your fingers against her clit again, sitting up slightly and tensing your thigh.
Nat shoots out the hand that was on your stomach to your shoulder and pulls your face into hers, kissing you with almost exclusively her tongue. It's wet and sloppy, and the way her movements are becoming less and less precise shows you she's getting closer with rapidity.
When she comes, her orgasm is just as harsh as yours was, crashing over her with a moan she muffles with her lips against yours, followed by subsequent whimpers as you continue to move your fingers against her.
It's not until Nat pulls your hand back from her sex that you realise she's probably sensitive from the orgasm, and you mutter out an apology for continuing, but she shakes her head and lets out a tired laugh into your mouth.
"No, baby. I'm not upset. Just need some time to get my shit back together after that." She moves off of your thigh, shivering slightly at the loss against her throbbing clit and lays down beside you. "Come on, lay down. We're gonna cuddle like losers."
You roll your eyes but comply, dramatically falling back against the mattress with a groan. "What will I do? Being forced to cuddle with my girlfriend?"
"What will you do?" Nat agrees, draping her arm over your waist and pulling herself into your side. "It's a real tragedy.
"Mhm. A real tragedy." You murmur back, pressing your lips to the top of her head a few times.
"This is what's gonna make us win states, by the way." She hums, pressing kisses to your shoulder.
You snort at that, wrapping an arm loosely around her, "Really?"
"Mhm." Nat nudges her forehead against the side of your neck, "Which means we'll have to do it again after we win states, obviously. Good luck charm, and all."
"Right. We'll see about that. I make no promises."
"I do." She giggles to herself, "And I promise that this is a good luck charm."
a/n: spoiler: it wasnt a good luck charm ur pussy crashed the plane
