🕷️ | Invisible string (web)
Spider-Man Nat x fem!reader
Summary: in which you are Spider-Man’s biggest fan. What happens when you find out that, under the mask, your favourite hero shares a face with the girl you hate?
Warnings: underage drinking and smoking, injuries, blood, needles and all that good stuff, unlicensed individual performing stitches, oblivious asf reader like literally blind, self harm (if you close one eye and squint the other), unnamed handsy small dick man that can’t take a hint, bar fight-(ish), smut—> semi public sex.
Author's note: I don’t know why in the actual hell this turned out so long I need to be sedated asap. Also psa or whatever for the people who asked me to tag them and I didn’t (or it looks like I didn’t), tumblr for some reason isn’t allowing me to I swear I tried :((
Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 4/ Part 5/ Part 6
You walk home with a heavy heart, more often than not your thoughts drifting back to the masked vigilante. He’s fine right? He has to be, it’s Spider-Man. But something about that notification rubs you the wrong way “Spider-Man takes heavy hit” how heavy are we talking? From what? From whom?
You haven’t even gotten home yet and you’ve already refreshed the page more times than you can count but no more information has been given in almost an hour, which just makes you spiral even more.
You know it’s ridiculous to be this worried about him, after all you don’t even know who’s under the mask, and while yes you’ve spoken to him alone two times by now— which you suspect is way more than the average person. He’s still Spider-Man untouchable, lunchbox superhero Spider-Man. And your fangirlism is starting to border on delusion with you acting like a wife who’s husband just left for war and hasn’t sent a letter in 4 months. God, maybe Natalie is right after all, maybe you do have a problem.
When you finally manage to reach your home, you glance at the watch on your wrist and realise you’re more than one hour past curfew—great. Now you’re definitely about to hear an earful from your parents. Next time you need to tell Spider-Man to swing to the top of buildings, in order to cheer you up, in a more timely manner. The silly thought manages to cheer you up a little before you walk in to— what you're sure, is your impending death, or at least the death of your freedom.
Your parents berate you for what feels like an hour before you’re finally allowed to retreat to your room upstairs. Lots of “where were you?” And “why didn’t you call saying you’d be home late.” Were asked. The second one was easy to answer: your phone was dead after so much frantic scrolling on the Spider-Man news page. The first one? Not so much. Considering that you were at the top of a building you’d never been to before with none other than Spider-Man. But you couldn’t tell them that because one, they’d never believe you and two they’d probably send you to a psychiatrist believing your Spider-Man obsession had reached incurable levels and you were now hallucinating the masked superhero.
When you reach your room upstairs the first thing you do is plug your phone to the charger to see if there’s any updates on your favourite hero. You wait for what feels like hours but in reality is only a few minutes for your phone to glow before you can pick it up.
Your hands are shaking while you refresh the page, waiting for the update to load.
“Wounded Hero: Spider-Man Barely Escapes After Violent Encounter”
You feel your throat tighten while you read the article below, there’s a few comments of witnesses confirming that yes Spider-Man was badly hurt with a gash in his lower abdomen from a hit that tore through his suit.
There’s an amateur video attached to the bottom of the page, taken by a passer by. It’s grainy but you can clearly see that Spider-Man’s usual effortless cool swing is gone, now replaced with an awkward position with him only using one arm and heavily favouring is left side while evading the scene of battle.
You don’t know what to do, you wish you could do something. Ask him if he’s okay if he needs something. An irrational part of you wants to go back to the building he showed you, he did say it was a “cool spot” you wonder if it’s his favourite or if he’s there. But you curve your urge to jump through the window and go there, rationalizing that he would in fact not be there. After all, if he’s injured he must have gone home, whatever home is. Or some kind of private hospital for hero’s only. You just hope he’s okay.
Sleep doesn’t come easy for you, with your nervous tick of refreshing the page over and over again. But after hours you eventually fall asleep with your phone still in your hand, glowing in your face.
You’re rudely woken up by your mother screaming that you’re gonna be late to open the school.
At first you stare at her dumbfounded while rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Open the school? But then it hits you. It's Thursday. You remember telling your father that you’d open the school for him given the fact that he had a doctor’s appointment today—great. Another reason to add to the fact that being the principal’s daughter fucking sucks. Now you’re gonna have to go to school almost two hours earlier than everyone else to turn the key on the lock so a couple of kids who’s parents work early can go lounge in the corridors, fucking great.
You only have time to get dressed and brush your teeth before you're rushed out of the house by your mother.
The ride to the school is tense and uncomfortable, making you incredibly grateful to finally reach your destination— even if the destination is an empty school at the ass crack of dawn.
You watch her car leave while you walk up the steps to the gates. The gates are metal and heavy with a keyhole so rusty you fear not being able to open it. But alas after positioning the keys in 4 different ways you finally manage to open the gates and get inside the school.
The school at 6 AM while the sun is still rising is an eerie sight. Empty and vacant giving it a weird haunted look. You can almost hear Van’s voice in your ear telling you this is where dreams go to die. You guess they’re not that far off.
You make your way to your fathers office to put the keys in his desk like he instructed you to while wondering what the hell you’re meant to do in an empty school for two hours. You place the keys in his drawer when you hear footsteps in the hallway— your heart drops, fear creeps up your spine while you feel your legs start to give out under you.
Nobody is meant to be here at this hour, the cafeteria ladies only come in at 6:30 to get a head start on lunch. So who’s here? You wonder if you’re imagining it. Some lightheaded hallucinations due to the lack of sleep. But you can’t seem to swallow the lump in your throat.
You reach for the meter long blackboard ruler that’s placed neatly atop your fathers desk. Rationally you know there isn’t much you can do with it but some sort of weapon is better than none— you hope.
You get out of your fathers office and follow the sound trying to muffle the part of your brain that’s screaming at you that that’s a terrible idea.
When you finally reach the tiled hallway you can’t hear anything anymore. You let out a breath in relief as you’re preparing yourself to return upstairs when you hear the unmistakable sound of someone falling and cursing in a thick accent.
You run in the direction of the sound and are faced with the closed door of the school’s nurses office. You fumble in your pocket for the key and are speechless with what you see.
Sitting on the ground, back pressed against the stretcher, her bleach blonde hair clinging to her face that’s covered by a thin layer of sweat. You look down and notice the ginormous gash in her abdomen red and angry still bleeding down her abs and onto her trousers.
She finally looks up at you when she hears the door opening, a shocked expression adorning her pale face that you now notice is also covered in various small cuts and bruises.
“What are you doing here?”
“What are you doing here?”
The two of you say at the same time.
“What am I? What are you? Did you just break into the school?” You question, indignant.
“Perceptive as always princess.” She says in a tired voice while messing with the various bandages and gauze she stole from the medicine cabinet.
You stop your rant when you look at her state. Really look at her. Her torso that’s only covered by a black sports bra adorns not only one but two large gashes, one who’s noticeably worse than the other. Her pale face is covered in numerous small scratches and you can also see a black eye forming around her shiny green eyes. Her left arm is wrapped in what you assume is her t-shirt while the worse one of her abdomen bruises bleeds onto the tile and the seam of her baggy jeans.
“Jesus—”You breathe out. Seeing Nat in such a vulnerable broken state is starting to get to you. “Did you get jumped?” You ask, for some reason feeling nothing but concern for the girl that’s curled up on the floor in front of you.
“Something like that.” She responds, the absence of her ever present smirk doing nothing to ease your concerns.
You watch her remove her band tee that was enveloping her right arm and clean some of the blood from her abdomen with it. While wrapping gauze around her arm without disinfecting it— seriously does this girl just not know how to do anything?
You watch her for a few more moments wondering if you should tell her that if she’s gonna steal gauze from the school's nurse’s office she might as well steal some rubbing alcohol too while she’s at it.
Your mouth opens and closes like a fish while you try and fail to find the words. But then you see her try to wrap her bloody dirty T-shirt around herself while she’s still bleeding and you just can’t take it anymore.
“Let me—” But you can’t finish your sentence.
“What?” She snaps, but there’s no real bite in her voice.
“You’re doing it wrong. You’re gonna get an infection.” You tell her, hoping she’ll listen.
You drop the ruler that’s still in your hand on the ground, listening to the awful booming sound it makes as it hits the tile and move to Natalie’s side.
“You’re gonna get an infection and it’s gonna be gross as hell and you’re gonna become a thousand times more insufferable than you already are.” You tell her.
She looks like she’s pondering for a moment, hand in the pixies t-shirt that’s pressing against her bleeding abdomen but then she finally concedes.
“Fine.” She says lowly, embarrassed. As if the words were stuck in her throat and it was difficult for her to get them out.
You take that as a yes and move to her side. Her distrustful eyes following your every move as you sit down next to her.
You look over at her and notice her main injuries that are in need of attention. Her arm that’s poorly wrapped, the two gashes in her abdomen, the various small cuts that adorn her face and the forming black eye.
You decide to start by the arm, removing first the gauze that’s already wrapped there and throwing it on the ground. Then you reach for the medicine cabinet and pull the antiseptic out and pour some onto a towel you found there as well.
“This is going to sting.” You warn.
Nat bobs her head in a noncommittal shrug but ends up hissing as you dab the towel onto her arm. When you deem it’s clean enough you gently wrap a new piece of gauze around it securing it with medical tape.
When you move away from her arm you look at her abdomen again. The T-shirt she placed atop of it is soaked in blood, it’s starting to make you feel sick and a little lightheaded but you push through it in favor of helping the mess of a girl that’s sitting cross legged in front of you.
“Can I— ” You ponder while gesturing to her shirt-covered abdomen, asking for permission to remove it and access the damage that’s underneath.
“Yea.” She shrugs, noncommittally.
You peel the shirt away and throw in on the floor near the two of you, the shirt staining the previously white tile red.
The smaller wound isn’t bleeding as much anymore; it's bigger but less deep, a clean cut across her stomach that goes from her left ribs to her belly button.
The other one however is the one that scares you the most. It's deep, like a knife didn’t cut her abdomen but rather perforated it. It’s still bleeding and it gushes more blood anytime she breathes or moves too harshly.
You look at her face and it’s pale, paler than usual, like a sick tone of white that borders on translucent, her usual warmth is gone and she’s sweating a lot, her head now falls completely on the stretcher behind her rather than leaning on it making you fear that she’s gonna pass out due to blood loss.
“Nat, you need to go to the hospital.” You urge, it’s not funny anymore you’re genuinely scared and you fear your medical expertise ends here.
“No hospital.” She mutters, head still pressed against the stencher, eyes closed.
“Nat no— Hey! Don’t close your eyes please don’t die on me.”
You shake her frantically, which you probably shouldn’t be doing but you’re way too freaked out.
“C’mon you really wanna die at school? With me, of all people?”
That seems to get her to open her eyes.
You feel her gaze on you, like a cornered animal, you realise in this moment you hold all the power, which makes her twitchy.
You look at her bleeding stomach again.
“Nat seriously you need stitches, stop with the bullshit.” You plead.
“No hospital.” She says again.
“What do you mean no hospital? Are you insane? Do you wanna die?” But the thought of her actually dying tears you apart.
“Do you— ” she starts, groaning in pain. “Do you seriously think I can afford a hospital princess? Why do you think I’m here?”
Your heart sinks at that. You knew her financial situation was bad but this bad? She could seriously die.
“I— ok… But Nat you can’t just slap a bandage on this and call it a day.”
You press the antiseptic towel to her lower abdomen letting it catch some of the blood while you try to reason with the blonde.
Your eyes fall on her bruised face and her scared eyes, god you’ve never seen her like this, so defeated…
She keeps shaking her head signaling that she’s not going to change her mind.
“Can you do it?” She asks, voice small and vulnerable.
“Me?” You’re bewildered, taken aback even. “Do I look like I know how to stitch someone?”
“We learned how to sew in art, in 4th grade. Remember? Can't be that different.”
Now you know she’s definitely lost her mind. Did she just say that sewing a body is the same thing as sewing a heart for Mother’s Day?
You sigh, stand up and pace around before opening the cabinet and pulling out a needle and thread, this might be the most reckless and stupid thing you’ve ever done in your entire life, all because Natalie fucking Scatorccio refuses to go to the hospital.
You kneel next to her again, needle and thread in hand.
“What kinda question— ” She then reaches for the outer pocket of her backpack and pulls out a black lighter with little skull designs all around it.
“Death how fitting.” You murmur under your breath while you use the flame to sterilize the needle.
You try to thread the needle but your hands are shaking making you unable to, Nat’s eyes are trained on you watching you struggle. You feel tears prickle at the corner of your eyes in frustration as you attempt to again guide the stubborn piece of thread through the eye of the needle.
Your vision starts to blur with unshed tears and pent up frustration, until you feel Nat’s hand rest against your arm giving you some much needed reassurance.
“It’s okay— princess, you can do it.” She says in the softest voice you’ve ever heard her use.
You breathe in and out in an attempt to calm yourself down, focusing on the feel of Nat’s fingers circling your arm gently and her reassuring words you finally manage to thread the needle.
You move closely to Nat’s abdomen but find yourself unfit for the task and unable to push through your nerves.
“Nat I can't— do this…” You confess.
“I trust you.” She shrugs, while looking deep into your eyes, you can tell at this moment she’s not lying.
She trusts you? Why? Since when? Why would she say that? Why would she put you in this position? Why would she put her life in your hands?— I trust you— her words were so raw, so pure and you feel like you don’t deserve them.
Tears prickle at the corner of your eyes again as you imagine hurting her further instead of helping.
“Nat I can’t— I’m going to kill you.” You protest while wiping at your face with the hand that doesn’t hold the needle.
“According to you I’m gonna die either way without the damn stitches.” She complains with an infuriating air of nonchalance.
“C’mon, that worried about losing lil ol’ me?”
“Are you trying to piss me off so I’ll stab you with the needle?” You complain, while wiping furiously at the tears that keep escaping your eyes.
And she’s smirking, the little fucking freak is amused. You suppose it’s a better look than the almost dying ten minutes ago— but still.
And the worst part? She managed to piss you off enough to make you come to your senses and start stitching her wound.
You start at the corner of the bleeding abrasion the feeling of the needle penetrating through her skin one you never want to feel again.
You’re three stitches in, still wondering if you’re doing this right when you notice how close you and Nat are, you can feel her heavy breathing on your face while she clutches the bottom of your shirt desperately needing something to hold on to but not wanting to hold on to you as to not disturb your medical prowess.
You knot the final stitch as you’re actively attempting to not get sick. And lift your head to look in Nat’s eyes who are already trained on you. The two of you are so close your foreheads are almost touching, and you wonder what it would feel like to have her forehead pressed against yours— wait no, what are you doing.
“If you die I don’t want the police at my door.” You say in an attempt to mask your confusing feelings.
“Don’t worry princess, if I die due to your poor medical skills I won’t tell a soul it was you.”
“Conforting— and stop calling me that!”
“You like it…” She teases.
“I'm sure you do...” She counters, a mischievous smirk now adorning her smug expression. “I mean— you weren’t crying at the thought of losing me a few minutes ago or anything…” She chuckles but then clutches her freshly stitched wound and groans in pain.
“That’s because I don’t want to be accused of murdering your stubborn ass.”
“Ah right— jail, that's what you're afraid of.” She teases while wiggling her eyebrows.
“I will rip off your stitches and leave you out here to bleed out alone.” You threaten.
“Jesus— Fine I’ll shut up.”
You then move to her other wounds, clean and press gauze to the diagonal gash on her abdomen. And clean the various small cuts on her face.
The medicine cabinet for some reason doesn’t have small enough bandages for the cuts on her face but then you remember the Spider-Man bandages that you bought for Connor a few weeks ago.
You smirk while you dig into your backpack for the bandages.
“What are you all smiley about?” Nat questions, confused.
You pull out the Spider-Man bandages from your bag and proudly show them to her.
“Are you joking?” She asks, incredulous. Her mouth slightly opened, further showing her shock.
“Look to your right.” You simply say, smirking while placing a red and blue spidey bandage above her eyebrow and another one on her chin. Her pissed off sighing only furthering the joy you feel while placing various Spider-Man bandages on her wounded face— she deserves it, after the heart attack she gave you.
After you finish you sigh softly.
“How do you feel?” You ask, tentatively.
“Like death— ” She starts. “And… embarrassed. You seriously think I’m gonna walk with these things on my face? Kev is gonna make my life a living hell.”
“Ew.” She makes a disgusted sound. “Not my boyfriend.”
You shake your head and rise to your feet and help her do the same.
“C’mon up you go.” You say while helping her from the floor and onto the stretcher her bloody band tee, still discarded on the floor leaving her only in her sports bra, which as you fighting to not move your gaze from her face.
She’s now sitting on the stretcher messing with the carabiner attached to her trousers in an attempt to not look you in the eyes.
The room is still for a moment, the first rays of sunlight coming through the tiny window giving the previous cold room a warmer glow.
You’re the first to speak.
“Are you homeless?” Ok, that did not come out how you wanted it to.
“I mean— you’re at school here so early… Are you living here or something?”
She rolls her eyes at that.
“No princess, I'm not homeless contrary to popular belief. I told you I came here for the medical supplies.”
You nod, you suppose that makes sense. You don’t question how she got in, you know she’s crafty enough to pick a door or a window or even come through a vent although that’s a weird thought—Nat in a vent. You shake your head and ask her the more pressing question.
She chuckles, dark and sardonic. “I’m afraid that’s none of your business, princess.”
“The hell it’s not my business I just spent the past half hour taking care of your ass.”
“It’s almost like I didn’t ask you to!” She counters, hands slamming on the stretcher below her.
You breathe in and out, nails digging into your palm forming crescent moon marks all in a futile attempt to calm yourself down and not hit her right then and there.
But then you remember this is the same girl who almost bled out alone in the school's nurses office and she’s probably just being an ass because it’s better than being vulnerable— again.
“Fine, be like that.” You want to leave but find yourself unable to.
An uncomfortable silence falls between the two of you again, the kind that’s deafening, the kind that swallows you whole, so you do whatever you can to fill it.
But Nat beats you to it. Turns out silence— to her, is a bigger enemy than you.
“Are you going to that thing with the team tonight?” She asks, eyes still trained on her lap.
“What do you care?” You reply, confusion and… something else plastered on your face.
“Well if you’re going I’m not. Don’t wanna deal with your stubborn ass any more than I already have to.”
Her words sting but you don’t let it show.
“Fine, you can go. Clubbing is not my thing anyway.”
“I thought it was a bar?”
“I don’t know ask Jackie she’s the one who picked the place.”
“Ugh— I don’t wanna talk to Jackie.” Nat says, nose scrunching up in disgust.
“And you wanna talk to me?” You question, folding your arms and giving her a pointed look.
She groans again, making it clear that between you and Jackie you’re still the more annoying option. “Good point.”
And with that she jumps off the stretcher and crouches down to grab her bloody Pixies shirt off the floor along with her backpack and makes her way to the door.
But stops at the exit, hand grabbing the side of the door. She turns her head slowly, as if the action is physically painful for her.
“Thank you…” She says before leaving, not giving you a chance to respond.
You watch her leave down the corridor, you think about following her, you really do but she looks like she wants to be alone and honestly you don’t want to follow her around like an awkward lost puppy.
So, you clean the last of the blood off the floor and dispose of the antiseptic towel and make your way to your fathers office to spend the remaining time there until your first class.
When the bell rings, loud and obnoxious you walk the trek to your first class, English— the class you’re partnered with Nat, of all people, for a project that’s worth a third of your grade, you really can’t escape her no matter how much you try.
You sit at your desk for a while until the teacher arrives and tells the class to sit with their respective partners. You look around for Nat, already anticipating the fight when she never arrives, which means she skipped— again.
You’re halfway through a spiral when you feel someone tap your shoulder, you look up and see Taissa.
“Hey, is your partner missing too?” She questions, a friendly smile plastered across her face.
“Great. I’m partnered with Van but they’re cutting class, something to do with their mom.” Tai rolls her eyes in disdain at the mention of Van’s mother, making it obvious it’s not the first time something like this has happened. “Do you wanna partner with me instead? That way we can get started and then Nat and Van can work together instead.”
You don’t question how Tai knows you’re partnered with Nat, not after the fit she threw last class.
“I mean… That’d be great.” You say, Taissa is a straight A student, meaning it would be infinitely better to work with her instead of Natalie class skipper Scatorccio. Plus Nat and Van are good friends and from what you hear they live close together, so it would be better for everyone.
You and Tai sit together in the back. Each of you working on your half of the assignment. Once your boredom hits unfathomable levels your mind drifts off to a certain wall climbing hero. It wouldn’t hurt to open a tab and see if there’s any updates. It would take two seconds— you convince yourself.
The open tab takes longer to load than you’d like but when the red icon finally glows on your screen the first thing you see is.
“SPIDER-MAN: SPOTTED SWINGING THROUGH THE CITY AFTER INJURIES IN BRUTAL ‘BATTLE OF THE BRONX’”— (click here for more details).
You press the link attached to the bottom and see Spider-Man swinging through the city in all his glory. In a video captured, no doubt by an amateur camera.
You can’t contain the slight smile that stubbornly makes it its way onto your face…
“What are you smiling for?” Taissa asks, bringing you back to reality.
“Uh— nothing, just a funny message.” You lie.
“Speaking of messages, have you been checking the group chat? What are you wearing tonight?”
“Tonight?” You question, frowning.
“Yes, tonight. Don’t you remember we’re all supposed to go out.” She explains.
Shit— tonight the thing Nat mentioned this morning that you said you were definitely not going.
“Oh… I— can’t go.” You say, nonchalantly. Turning your gaze back to your computer and hoping Tai leaves it at that.
“Why?” She questions, that’s what you get for hoping things.
“I don’t have a ride.” You lie.
“I’ll pick you up.” She says.
Well now what are you supposed to say? You did this to yourself at this point— there’s no backing out now.
“Ok. Thank you Tai.” You concede, there’s no point in arguing now. Especially because Tai is the kind of authoritative that kinda scares you.
The bell rings, and you and Tai say goodbye to each other after discussing what time she’ll pick you up.
The air is cold and stuffed at the same time as you make your way to the club's line with Tai and Van by your side. Van made you drink so much of their pregame concoction that despite leaving your jacket in Tai’s corvette you don’t feel cold at all. In fact you feel hot, the kind of hot that’s caused by alcohol that makes you wanna claw out of your skin. You feel hazy, less shy, more reckless almost like the usual anxiety inducing scenario doesn’t hold a candle to you in your tipsy state.
The three of you find Mari, Shauna and Jackie already in line. Each wearing a different variation of the same outfit, short skirt, boots and a tight top.
You feel cigarette smoke blowing into your hair, instead of being annoyed you almost ask for one not caring about your image in your current predicament. That’s until you see a glimpse of bleach blonde hair.
Nat, the last one to arrive— as always, wearing ripped trousers, a band tee that she made into a top and her signature black leather jacket. Her hand, which she’s currently using to hold the cigarette that’s blowing smoke in your direction, is covered in chunky silver rings.
You feel her blow smoke directly onto your face again.
“Scatorccio I swear to god.” You protest while turning in her direction.
“Stop butchering my name.” She counters, in a slow mocking voice, her accent coming out slightly.
“Stop blowing that crap in my face.”
“I thought you weren’t coming.” She nags further.
“OH MY GOD— ” Mari complains while looking at the both of you. “Seriously, just kiss at this point and stop making all of our lives a living hell.”
“I would rather die.” You say, Nat just snickers and lights another cigarette. Simultaneously stomping her old one beneath her boot and into the dirt.
The line to the club runs long. So it takes all of you a good hour before you’re able to pass through security and be let in. Turns out Jackie did know one of the bouncers who knew.
The club is spacious with an indoor and outdoor space. The group decides to stay outdoors for the fresh air rather than head for the shiny disco balls inside. Then it starts to separate, Jackie and Mari head to the mirrors to take photos while Tai, Akilah and Shauna go find a booth in the corner that overviews the outwardly dance floor. Nat is nowhere to be found.
You and Van part from the group and go directly to the bar to order more drinks. You’re in line when you spot Nat already dancing with some guy who’s feeding her what looks like a joint, her mouth curled into a smirk while he has his arms wrapped tightly around her waist.
Van says something to you. Probably asking you what drink you’re gonna order but you can’t hear them. Too preoccupied watching Nat bob her head up and down, dancing freely next to the stranger, you’re not jealous, not exactly— you couldn’t care less for Nat’s tendencies. You’re just… worried, after all she was so hurt this morning and now she’s dancing like her stomach wasn’t stitched just this morning, by you of all people.
“Care to tell me what’s got you so preoccupied?” Van asks cheerfully, and you finally hear them.
“Just…people watching.” You shrug, noncommittally.
“People watching or Nat watching?” Van teases.
“I couldn't care less about Nat or what she does with her boy toy of the night.” You snap.
“Jesus— I was just checking.” Van says, raising their hands in the air in a mock surrender.
The both of you walk away from the bar after getting your drinks and go meet the rest of the girls that are now all gathered in a corner of the club.
You feel Jackie elbowing your side.
“Have you seen the way Nat’s dancing?” She inquires with her typical low whispery tone that she reserves for gossip alone.
“I mean— then she wonders why people think she’s easy.” Jackie continues, she’s not wrong exactly, people have been calling Nat all kinds of names since freshman year, you included.
“Knock it off. The both of you.” Van reprimands, eyes trained in the spot between you and Jackie.
Upon being scolded by Van, you turn your head in Nat’s direction again and watch her closely, something akin to a hawk stalking their prey. But you can’t tear your eyes away from her waist, the way her head bobs up and down or her uncoordinated movements that are somehow oh so entrancing or the way her body grinds against her dance partners. She turns slowly, locking eyes with you, her careless expression turning into a glare before she turns around and smashes her lips against the guys before resuming her dance with him, she’s right below one of the colourful lights, the blue hue making her stand out even more— if that’s possible.
Nat dances like she’s got nothing to lose like she’s a cat with 9 lives or like there’s something horrible she wants to forget, something she only manages to quarry with both cheap weed and cheaper company.
The way she locked eyes with you upset you, made you feel like you had something to prove, but you’re not exactly the kind of person who just goes into the dance floor and picks a victim.
“Does anyone wanna go dance with me? I'm bored.” Mari asks.
There it is, an opportunity.
“Nice, thank you.” Mari says, already at your side, grabbing your hand and pulling you to the dance floor.
“You?” Taissa asks, locking eyes with you, obviously questioning your unfamiliar behaviour.
“Yes, me.” You simply say. Letting Mari drag you to the dance floor.
You dance with Mari for a while, hips swaying to the music in a way you’re sure you wouldn’t be able to do if you hadn’t had the sheer amount of alcohol that you’ve had. But you let the beat of the trashy club song that’s playing take your worries away, your mind becomes blank with no thoughts of Nat, home, school or Spider-Man for that matter.
You let Mari wrap her arms around you as you two dance. For some reason you have the urge to glance at Nat and are surprised to find her already looking at you with a scowl on her face, her feet fidgeting like she’s debating leaving that spot but she ultimately turns around facing her partner.
“Look that guy is totally checking you out.” Mari tells you.
You look around and spot him, tall, covered in cheap tattoos. Not only is he not your type he looks way older than you.
“Mar I don’t know.” You tell her.
“C’mon you never talk to anyone when we go out. This is your chance.” She says while rubbing your arm. “Look he’s coming— go.” She chirps before pushing you in his direction.
You’re now face to face with him, your mind already working an excuse to turn him down politely and going back to glaring at Nat from the corner.
“Hey there, you from here?” He asks while snaking an arm around your waist. “I’ve never seen you around before.”
You remove his arm from your waist. “I have a boyfriend.” You state, you don’t but it's the first lie your mind managed to conjure up.
“Oh yeah? I don’t mind.” He continues, before wrapping his arm back around your middle.
“I do.” You say, but it all seems in vain as your attempts to get him off you are rendered useless.
You’re panicking, every awful thing you’ve heard that happens to girls in the night flooding your mind. You look around for Mari but she’s nowhere to be found. The crown and the lights start blending together as the alcohol starts hitting you all at once making you feel even more powerless than you already do.
“Cmon it will be quick— ” he says into your neck, you feel sick.
“Hey!” You hear, you turn your head around and find Nat staring him down, hands on her waist. Your system crashes in relief as she approaches.
“What?” The man grabbing you asks, voice lazy.
“She’s clearly not into you dude let her go.” Nat says, as she approaches.
“She’s not!” Nat interrupts, her voice mocking in an attempt to mask her worry. “She’s clearly had way too much to drink and she’s obviously uncomfortable, let her go.”
You struggle against his body again but he doesn’t let go, which ticks Nat the wrong way.
“How about you get lost blondie.” He mocks. “Unless you wanna join?” He questions with a sick smile.
“Always the little emo ones trying to keep the good ones to themselves.” He complains.
He makes a move to bury his face in your neck, you feel his beard scratch your skin before his body weight is forcibly lifted off you.
You look around and see Nat standing in between the two of you staring him down, knuckles bloody. While the man who was harassing you clutches the left side of his face.
“Jesus bitch are you crazy?” He yells.
But he doesn’t, instead he disappears into the crowd.
“Are you okay?” Nat asks, while grabbing gently at your sides to steady you.
You just nod and hold onto her.
“Jesus how much have you had to drink?” She questions, looking at the spot where your skin meets.
“C’mon let’s get you some fresh air princess.”
Nat starts leading you away from the crowd, at some point you grab her hand while you let her guide you and she makes no effort to pull you away.
When you finally reach the end of the crowd Nat leads you to one of the walls on the outskirts of the building. The two of you are leaning against the wall of the club. Nat with a cigarette already dangling from her lips.
“You want one princess?” She asks while tilting her pack of Marlboro reds in your direction. “C’mon I won’t hold it against ya, might be good for your nerves.”
You don’t question how she knows you smoke, not right now anyway with your brain still fuzzy from the alcohol.
You take one cigarette from her pack, and attempt to light it with the same lighter you used to sterilize the needle that sewed her skin shut.
You try to light the cigarette with her lighter multiple times, but its lack of gas is making it difficult to do so.
“Here princess.” Nat says before pressing the tip of her cigarette to yours and lighting it.
A couple of minutes pass where you two are just smoking in comfortable silence before she chimes in again.
“Are you sure you’re alright?”
“Yea he was an asshole but— ” You breath in and out before looking in her direction, your eyes meeting her green ones. “Thank you.”
“Anytime princess.” You watch her stomp the butt of her cigarette with her boot on the floor. “I’m thirsty.”
“You think I’m about to waste seven dollars on a water? Please.” She scoffs.
You finish your cigarette and grab onto her again not trusting your body completely in your tipsy state.
Nat leads the both of you to the bathroom. You lean against the wall while she drinks from the tap, she reminds you of one of those little white crusty dogs with the way she drinks with her tongue poking out under the stream of water.
She gets off the sink and flickers water onto your face while smirking.
“Woah— what the hell Nat.” You complain while wiping the droplets off your face.
“I’m sober… mostly.” But you make no attempt to get off the wall, Nat’s close, close enough to kiss if you really wanted to.
“I’ll bet. What the hell have you been drinking?”
“Not much. I only drank two vodka cranberries and whatever was in Van’s bottle before we came in here.”
“Dude! You did not. You do know they mix like every alcohol in their mom’s cabinet and like a little of whatever orange juice they have in the fridge.”
“That…explains a lot actually.” You say, rubbing your head.
“Hey are you gonna be sick?” Nat asks, voice laced with concern as one of her hands flies to your waist in an attempt to steady you while her eyes roam over your face looking for signs of distress.
“No, I’m okay— really.” You say trying to reassure her, but a blush creeps up your cheeks when you feel Nat’s hands on you, the pads of her fingers gently tracing the curve of your waist, absentmindedly.
A beat passes before you notice Nat’s bloody knuckles and grab her hand.
“Your hand…” you say while inspecting the small cuts.
“Don’t happen to have anymore of those spidey bandages hanging around do ya?” She questions, smiling softly.
You still don’t let go of her hand, caressing it softly with your thumb.
The two of you stay like that for a while, your breaths mixing together while you gently circle the non-affected area of her hand with the tip of your fingers.
“What are you doing?” She questions softly, looking at your joined hands where your thumb traces circles idly on her bruised palm.
“You’re doing something…”
You don’t know if it’s the alcohol, the proximity or the fact that your addled brain for some reason keeps mixing Nat’s voice with Spider-Man’s deeper one but you lean forward and clash your lips against hers.
The kiss starts slow, sloppy and a little awkward because Nat takes a second too long to kiss you back. But when she does it’s honestly one of the best kisses you’ve ever had, the way her hand caresses your cheek, like you’re the most fragile thing in this world and her tongue swipes softly above your bottom lip making your stomach twist in desire.
After a few seconds the both of you pull away. Faces still incredibly close. Your thought from earlier hits you again and this time you do press your forehead softly against hers.
“What are you doing princess— ”
“I don’t know.” You answer honestly while your lips brush softly against hers as you speak, because it’s true you don’t. But right now, at this moment for some reason there’s nothing you want more than to feel her on you. “Do you wanna stop?”
“Good.” You say before kissing her again. This time it’s rougher all tongue and teeth your tongue slips into her mouth, exploring it, memorising every corner before sucking gently on hers.
You move from your place on the wall and change positions with her so her back is pressing against the wall instead. She presses her head against the wall tilting her head backwards giving you access to her neck.
You take the hint and start pressing kisses alongside her exposed skin, sucking on it. Leaving a trail of hickeys that lead down onto her shoulder blades before you bite softly on the curvature of her shoulders as well.
Nat, as it turns out, likes her neck played with because any time your tongue swipes any point of it she lets out little whines, like a cat begging for more. She grabs your waist and pulls you snug against her giving her a place to rut against.
Your right hand starts tracing the expense of her exposed stomach, giving her time to stop its path into her heat. When she doesn’t stop you. You unbuckle her belt with one hand and slip your hand into her pants above her underwear and start circling her clothed clit, your assault on her neck never stopping.
Nat moans above you “Jesus stop teasing will you?”
After hearing her complain, you bite her neck, making her groan above you. “Impatient.”
“You do realise we’re still in a public bathroom right? Wanna do the sweet, slow stuff, take me to your car or something you know… be romantic.”
You remove your hand altogether which earns you a little whine from Nat. “I don’t have a car, asshole.” You bite her neck again, more forcefully, leaving an imprint of your teeth on it as if to prove a point. “And that’s not romantic.”
“To me it is” She says, rolling her eyes. Her eyeliner is smudged blurring all around her eyes giving her a look akin to a raccoon— she’s never looked more beautiful.
But her talk is starting to piss you off so— in order to shut her up, this time your hand slips fully inside her underwear allowing you to ply your middle finger into her slick hole making her groan above you.
“Woah— what the— ” She moans. While pressing further against your hand. “Warn a girl first will ya?”
You roll your eyes at her antics while you move your finger in and out of her hole slowly, her pants and underwear making it difficult to move your hand.
“Take your shirt off.” You command.
You give her a look that reads— don’t piss me off. And for whatever reason she listens. Taking her shirt off obediently before tossing it on the floor, leaving her in her red bra.
Your lips move to her chest, making out with her breasts over the fabric which makes her throw her head back again, hitting the tile of the wall harshly with a bang noise. She closes her eyes, her mouth opened slightly in an “O” shape while little relaxed moans escape her plump lips as she rides your hand softly, spreading her slick on your middle finger and the palm of your hand.
After watching her uneven breathing for a second you add one more finger into her cunt. You feel her walls stretch around your digits before you start grinding your hips against hers, helping your fingers reach deeper into her.
Nat moans at that and wraps her arms around your neck for support as her legs grow weaker, her gridding motion against your palm only becoming more rapid and sloppy as she chases her orgasm.
Her head drops onto your shoulder as she holds onto you, filling it with a string of saliva as she keeps rutting against you.
“Fuck, I didn’t expect you to know what you are doing.” She says wetly against your neck. Punctuating each word with a harsh grind of her hips.
You don’t dignify that with a response, opting to circle her clit instead with your thumb spreading her arousal on it and curling your fingers inside her harshly, hitting that spongy spot that makes her moan loudly not caring about who hears. All while you grind your hips against one another with your hand nudged into her cunt.
Nat pants into your shoulder, grinding harder against your hand. You can tell she’s close by the kind of mindless, rhythmic, grinding motion she’s doing against you. You feel her go harder, swallowing a third finger inside herself before she stops abruptly and clings to you tightly, smashing her face against your neck while you feel your hand becoming wetter inside her panties as she comes hard.
The two of you stay in that position for a few moments while you let her keep grinding against you softly while slobbering your T-shirt.
Nat doesn’t seem able to stop herself as she keeps rutting against you while letting out soft groans who are muffled by your neck.
You let her rub herself against you for as long as she pleases until her legs start to give out under her and you have to help her stay upright.
You realise in that moment that she likes this, the numbness that comes after, the empty mind, the calmness that rushes over her while she grinds softly against you.
You remove your hand from her center and wrap your arm around her back, spreading her arousal on the back of her shirt as her hold on your neck doesn’t seem to be letting up any time soon.
The two of you stay like that for a while. Nat clinging to you, still occasionally pressing her hips to yours, even after you’ve removed your hand and you stroking her back over her T-shirt.
You feel her start to get her bearings and lean more against the wall instead of you.
“Yea just— wow…” she pants.
An awkward beat passes while the two of you stare at each other, not really sure how to act after what happened.
“Sit on the sink.” She commands.
“Nat—no. Your hand…” You point out.
“Who said anything about hand?” She smirks.
You raise your eyebrows at that, but then a light bulb turns on in your head as you realise what she’s hinting at.
Her face returns to the nape of your neck.
“Please…?” She whines against the exposed skin.
You do as she asks and hop onto the sink, your back hitting the cold glass of the mirror behind you. Your face turns to the door for a moment. It doesn't have a lock. Someone could come here and see you in what’s about to be a very compromising position.
Nat follows your gaze with her eyes.
“Don’t tell me you’re chickening out now?” She challenges, eyes trained on you.
“What if someone walks in?”
“Lucky them.” She simply says.
Natalie unbuckles your belt and lifts your skirt above your tights before spreading your legs apart. She starts by licking a strip on the inside of your tight, before biting it softly leaving a mark.
“Nat— ” You complain, for both the teasing and the fact you two definitely shouldn’t be taking this long.
“It’s not fun, is it princess?”
“Someone’s gonna walk in!”
“Fine.” She concedes. “I’ll torture your pretty little ass next time.” She teases, voice rough and deep making you think about a certain swinging red spider again.
The thought of sleeping with her again on the other hand makes you grimace.
You’re about to strike back when she pulls your underwear to the side and buries her face into your cunt.
You feel her nose bump into your clit as she licks a straight line up your center.
Her hands grip your tights, holding your legs spread wide open as she licks you, starting off with soft little kitten licks. But then she gets bolder and starts thrusting her tongue in and out of your hole while gripping your tights to help you grind against her face.
Your hands fly to her overgrown roots tugging them harshly as you pull her face closer to your heat as you press your thighs to the side of her face.
Nat moans against your hole at the pressure, the vibration sending shivers up your spine as you use one hand to hold onto the sink and another to tug at her hair.
Nat pulls one of your legs above her shoulder giving her deeper access to your entrance. She feels you getting close so she just sticks her tongue as far as it will go into your hole and lets you chase your high.
The wetness of her muscle against your cunt does unexplainable thighs to you as you grind against her face harder.
You feel that familiar tightening sensation in your lower stomach indicating you’re getting closer so you speed your movements against her face.
Her hands squeeze your ass gently as you come against her, helping you grind against her face a few more times before you stop completely.
She rises to her feet now face to face with you.
She stares at you for a moment, entranced like you’re an oasis in an endless desert.
She then presses a hard kiss against your mouth, like it’s the last time she’ll ever be able to kiss you, before she exits the bathroom in a hurried step.
Leaving you alone, breathless, panties wet, back pressed against the cold glass of the bathroom’s mirror.
ʚɞ tags: @rodrick-heffleysgf @sky-444 @archivesctrccio @scatorcciosbabe @phantomvael
