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stilinskiandthebanshee · 1 month ago

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Natalie Scatorccio x clueless!reader. like nat has been flirting for weeks at parties, but reader still doesn't notice it. and then at a party they are hanging out and a guy flirts with reader, and reader is all "oh he was just being friendly!". nat then realizes that reader is just a little oblivious to verbal forms of flirting, so she decides to SHOW reader that she was flirting...yk

ANON!! Your request has been finished! Guys, I haven’t written anything in maybe going on like 4/5 years so this was very therapeutic for me. I’m posting this immediately because if not I’ll obsess over it and then lock it away in my drafts forever. I stopped this before it got NSFW but I’m open for a second part if requested! Hope y’all enjoy!

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: Typical shit. Weed, alcohol

The View From Down Under

You hadn’t realized that finally making varsity would mean trading Friday nights with Alina—smoking whatever you could steal from her brother’s stash—for getting dragged to random parties with Lottie and the rest of the team. Yet, here you were, red solo cup shoved into your hands by Randy Walsh, standing in front of a blazing bonfire while drunk teenagers stumbled around you.

Lottie had long since abandoned you, muttering something around a cigarette that might’ve been Laura Lee’s name, but you hadn’t asked—and honestly, hadn’t cared enough to.

Your mind was drifting, lulled by the roar of the fire and the shouts of the crowd, just loud enough to drown out the swirl of thoughts buzzing in your head. You sipped your drink absently, eyes fixed across the flames on a very drunk Shauna arguing with Taissa, while Jackie attempted to separate them like she hadn’t already had enough. There was no universe where you were getting involved in that.

“They’re fucking psychotic,” a familiar raspy voice cut through the noise, nearly making you drop your drink. You didn’t have to look to know it was Natalie—but you did anyway.

She had a cigarette halfway to her lips, but her gaze was already locked on you, wearing the same unreadable expression she always had when she looked your way. It made your stomach twist. You held her stare for a beat before humming in acknowledgment and looking away—back to Jackie, who was now shoving Shauna down onto a lawn chair like a misbehaving toddler.

After that, it became a silent game—glances traded like cards. One minute, you could feel her eyes on the back of your head; the next, you were watching the smoke curl from her lips like you were hypnotized. Her pupils were blown wide, her grin lazy. Definitely high on something her crew had scored. Whatever was in your cup hit you all at once, the night fuzzing around the edges.

You forgot you were supposed to look away.

You couldn’t stop staring—not at the cigarette, or the way her lips curled around it, or the smoke painting lazy spirals against her skin. It wasn’t until you caught the smirk twitching at the edge of her mouth that you turned sharply, muttering something about the “damn alcohol.”

Then she leaned in, voice so low it practically slithered into your ear. “You want one?”

You didn’t even realize how close you’d gotten. When had that happened?

Her tone was pure challenge, mischief flickering beneath her cool expression. It made your chest tighten. You nodded before you could second-guess yourself.

Her smile widened as she passed you a loose cigarette. You started to fumble for an excuse—you didn’t have a lighter—but she beat you to it. Her fingers brushed yours, feather-light, as she flicked the lighter to life. You leaned closer. Ignored the strange flutter in your stomach. Inhaled.

Her grin turned soft, impressed. Almost… pleased. “No uniform tonight,” she said, head tilting, eyes dragging across you like she was seeing something new. “It’s… nice.”

You coughed, nearly choking on the smoke, swaying a little on your feet. God, were your cheeks burning? Did Natalie Scatorccio just give you a compliment?

It sure felt like one.

“Thanks,” you managed. “You look… nice too.”

It came out smaller than hers had. Less cool. But she just hummed in reply, her weight shifting as she rocked on her heels. Her gaze flicked over your shoulder, something catching her attention—her brows twitched, just for a second—but then she was back, that grin tugging at her lips again.

She giggled, light and warm, and reached out to squeeze your elbow. “You’re adorable. I’ll see you around, Newbie.”

And just like that, she was gone—vanishing into the party haze, leaving behind only the scent of cigarettes and vanilla.

You stood there, blinking after her, the cigarette forgotten in your hand. Maybe joining the soccer team wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

The next party had come quicker than you’d liked. Jackie had practically dragged you to her house after practice to help “set up.” Somehow, she’d convinced the team to do a movie night at her place. Things had been getting tense lately—some girl who’d recently been bumped to varsity clearly hadn’t been pulling her weight, more interested in boys and clout than the actual game. No one had been able to agree on how to handle it, so instead, everyone had been tiptoeing around an irritated Taissa and playing nice for your beloved captain. Hence, “decorating” duty.

You hadn’t minded spending time with Jackie and Shauna—you just hadn’t known them that well. You hadn’t been able to pin down their dynamic outside of being close. But you’d seen the way Shauna had looked at Jackie when Jeff wasn’t paying attention. And the way she’d looked at him when Jackie was. Not that it had been any of your business.

You’d only really been close with Lottie and Van—people who’d floated in and out of your life over the years. And… Natalie, now, you guessed. Ever since the last party, when she’d so graciously offered you a cigarette, she’d been… different. She’d still played rough during practice, still knocked the wind out of you when she stole the ball—but afterward, she’d started flashing crooked smiles, sometimes asking questions about your life, always loose and casual. Occasionally, she’d even been offering you another cigarette before warm-ups, like it was nothing. You’d started slipping your notes into her locker on days she skipped class. You hadn’t been best friends, not even close—but there had been something friendly there. Something shifting.

Which was how you’d ended up squished on the couch between her and Van, the group’s popcorn bowl nestled in your lap. You hadn’t been paying attention to the movie at all. You’d been too busy trying not to flinch every time Natalie’s fingers brushed yours, too focused on the breathy chuckle she let out when she leaned in to whisper a stupid joke about the plot. You’d ignored Van’s quiet laughter every time your breath hitched.

Halfway through the movie, Jackie had paused it, calling a group bathroom break and telling everyone to refill snacks and drinks. Natalie had flashed a grin your way as she stood, pulling a little baggie from her pocket. “All I heard was smoke break,” she’d teased, grabbing the popcorn from your lap before disappearing out the door.

You could feel Van grinning beside you, her amusement radiating without even needing to look.

You’d elbowed her. “What?”

She’d laughed, poking at the red rising on your cheeks before throwing her hands up in surrender. “Nothing, nothing. Just... you and Nat’ve gotten close, that’s all.”

You’d glanced toward the door—Natalie was out of earshot, thank god—and pushed Van again, your voice low and panicked. “What are you even talking about?”

Van had shrugged, giving you a sideways look. “I’m just saying—Nat’s not nice to people. Not unless she wants something.”

You’d scoffed. “She’s just being friendly.”

That had earned you a full-on belly laugh that hadn’t stopped until Natalie strolled back in, her eyes visibly redder, a lopsided smile on her face as she balanced three beers and your bowl of popcorn in her arms like it was nothing. You’d lunged forward instinctively to save the bowl, and she’d flashed you a grateful grin before flopping back onto the couch—closer this time. Her thigh had brushed yours. It was a cramped couch. It was fine. It was fine.

“Miss me?” she’d drawled, voice slower, lazier.

You’d reached for a beer she handed you, your fingers grazing again. “This two-seater felt so empty without you,” you’d shot back, dryly.

Her arm had casually draped over the back of the couch, fingers trailing lightly along your shoulder. She’d leaned in, lips ghosting your ear. “Oh, I bet, princess. I felt you yearning for me all the way from the porch.”

Before you could think of a comeback, Van had snorted behind you. “You two wanna get a room?”

You’d elbowed her without breaking eye contact with Natalie, who was still looking at you like she was sizing you up. Her gaze had dropped to your lips, just for a second, and when she spoke again, her fingers had tightened slightly over your shoulder.

“Nah,” she’d murmured. “It’s hotter how red she gets when everyone’s watching.”

You’d been too flustered to speak, heart hammering against your ribs like it was trying to escape.

Thankfully, Jackie’s voice had sliced through the moment before it could swallow you whole. “Okay, movie’s starting in thirty seconds! Everyone shut up and get comfortable!”

You hadn’t let yourself look at Natalie again, afraid of what you’d find in her eyes.

She’d been bold like that. Sharp and toothy in all the places you weren’t. It had been part of what had drawn you to her in the first place—even before she knew you existed.

She was just being friendly, you reminded yourself.

Right?

Eventually, you got a Friday to breathe. The Yellowjackets had been on a kind of winning streak lately, blowing through the competition gracefully—after hours and hours of extra practice. You’d finally made it to Spring Break: two weeks without school, without soccer. Well, mostly. Jackie was still making everyone commit to at least two practices so no one would be “off their game” once school started back up.

That meant the team had scattered. Lottie was out of town visiting her parents. Shauna and Jackie had taken a cabin trip with Jackie’s family. The rest of the team—you didn’t know well enough to even guess what their plans were.

You were sitting next to Alina, who was yapping your ear off about some boy at her school. She’d transferred at the beginning of the year on a scholarship to a fancier school up north. You’d been jealous—but if she hadn’t left, you never would’ve joined the soccer team. So you supposed a win was a win.

The air outside was muggy, sticking to your skin like shitty sunscreen. It had rained the last five days in a row, and the heat was heavy, unrelenting. You and Alina were sprawled across the back porch, cigarettes dangling from your lips as you sipped some lukewarm beer you’d grabbed from the cooler at the small party her brother was throwing.

Van and Taissa were tucked away in some corner of the backyard, doing a terrible job of being subtle. Not that anyone here would care.

But your eyes were drawn to Natalie. Had been from the second she walked through the door in a red plaid skirt, her signature leather jacket slung over her shoulders, eyeliner perfectly smudged. She was standing near a radio, tinkering with the knobs, a joint hanging from her lips, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. You knew she was friends with Alina’s brother, Kevyn. Over the years, the group of you had drifted into each other’s orbit—though back then, neither Kevyn nor Natalie would’ve given you the time of day.

Alina nudged you in the side, cold condensation from her drink splashing against your leg, a sharp contrast to the wet heat. It worked. You blinked and dragged your eyes away from Natalie.

“Are you even listening to me?” Alina sighed, a pout softening her features.

You shook your head and finished off your beer. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry.”

She rolled her eyes, but without any real bite. Her gaze followed yours—landing squarely on Natalie’s frustrated stance by the radio—and she smirked, bumping her shoulder into yours.

“Why don’t you just go— I don’t know—actually talk to her?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, feigning innocence.

Even after all these months, after how much closer you and Natalie had gotten, you still felt the need to tiptoe. Especially with so many eyes always on you. Van and Taissa looked at you like they could see straight through your skin. The rest of the team threw strange glances when Natalie joked too loudly or leaned too close in the locker room. They didn’t get it. Didn’t understand why someone like her would hang out with someone like you.

Alina just hummed distractedly, her eyes locking onto the boy she’d been going on about, now walking through the back gate. She at least gave you the courtesy of leaning over and whispering, “Stop being a weirdo and just go talk to her,” before she was off, launching herself into his arms.

You shook your empty can as the soft hum of the record player finally spilled into the yard. Natalie cheered from her post beside it. And as if she could feel your stare, she turned toward you, smirking as she nodded you over.

Well. You did need another beer.

You made your way over slowly, ignoring the hushed whispers from Van and Taissa as you passed.

As soon as you were close, Natalie slung an arm over your shoulder, tugging you against her side. She took a deep inhale, then exhaled the smoke away from your face.

“You proud of me or what?”

You shook your head, letting her guide you toward an old, ratty recliner tucked in the back of the open garage. A few people were scattered around, but most had gravitated toward the open air, desperate for any semblance of breeze.

“Oh, definitely,” you said. “You’re a natural technician. I always knew there had to be some kind of skill in there somewhere.” You knocked playfully against her head with your free hand.

She laughed—one of those belly laughs that made your stomach drop—and pulled you down into the recliner with her. There wasn’t really enough room for both of you, but Natalie didn’t seem to care. She tugged your legs over hers and settled her hand on your thigh like it belonged there.

“You think you’re so funny, huh?” she teased, taking another hit before pressing her beer can into your hands.

You took it, grateful for any cold at all in this heat. Her body pressed against yours wasn’t helping. Every nerve ending buzzed where her hand rested casually on your leg.

She held the joint out to you. “Want a hit?”

You nodded quickly, trying not to seem too eager. You and Alina usually just smoked whatever she could sneak from Kevyn’s stash, and he wasn’t exactly thrilled about his little sister—or you—getting involved.

You reached out to take the joint, but Natalie pulled her hand back, grinning.

“Nuh uh. I wanna try something,” she said, smooth as ever.

You watched as she brought the joint back to her lips, taking a deep inhale. Her hand moved from your leg to your chin, gripping gently as she pulled you closer until your noses bumped. You gasped, wide-eyed, just as a stream of smoke spilled from her mouth—straight into yours.

You exhaled quickly, turning your head, the blush on your cheeks impossible to hide. You tried to cover it with another swig of beer, looking away. Van caught your eye from across the yard, grinning with a teasing smirk before making exaggerated kissy faces at Taissa, sending them both into a full-blown laughing fit. You rolled your eyes and turned back to Natalie, who wore an amused look of her own.

“That’s... new.”

She shrugged, letting her head fall back against the chair, her hand returning to your thigh to trace slow, lazy circles.

“Eh. Saw Travis do it with some girl at a party once. Wanted to try it.” Her eyes locked with yours as her hand slid higher. “You seemed like the perfect candidate.”

The way she said it. The way she did everything—so calm, so sure of herself, like it didn’t matter how you reacted. Like she wasn’t setting every nerve ending in your body on fire.

You didn’t trust your voice enough to answer.

So, you didn’t.

You just leaned in again.

She met you halfway, mouth already full of smoke. This time, your lips brushed—less coordinated, less careful, but neither of you cared. You both pulled away giggling.

Natalie didn’t go far, nudging her nose against your cheek, still laughing.

You didn’t get long to enjoy it.

Alina barreled into the garage. Natalie’s grip on your thigh tightened, a small huff escaping her at the sight.

“I need you. Now,” Alina said, in that urgent tone that screamed best friend emergency. She barely registered how tangled up the two of you were before grabbing your arm and hauling you up.

You threw a loose smile over your shoulder at Natalie—one you hoped said I’m sorry and To be continued all at once.

She just nodded, a ghost of a smile lingering on her lips as she watched you go, the last trace of annoyance melting off her face.

The Yellowjackets won States. You guys had actually done it. Pep rallies, photoshoots, even a spot in the newspaper. And naturally, Lottie was throwing a party. She was practically known for her infamous ragers—her house was ginormous, and her parents were practically nonexistent.

The energy inside was electric, bass pulsing through the floors. You saw blurs of faces you’d never even noticed in the hallways before, all of them now crowding you, offering high fives, dragging you into pictures. Even the boys’ team, bitter that you were going to Nationals and they weren’t, showed up—kegs in hand.

You’d been hugged so many times your ribs ached. You were pretty sure a stranger had kissed you on the cheek after Van screamed about your game-winning assist. You smiled through it all, trying not to look like you wanted to shrink into the couch cushions.

It wasn’t bad, exactly.

Just… strange.

The exhaustion from the match had finally caught up to you. Your legs felt like jelly, and your eyes were heavy—though that might’ve had something to do with the three shots Jackie had made you take. You were tucked comfortably into a sectional in one of Lottie’s endless spare rooms—the so-called “game room,” complete with a karaoke machine that looked suspiciously professional.

Taissa and Van were absolutely butchering a pop song, drunk-laughing into each other’s shoulders like they’d fall over without the other to lean on. You giggled lazily, eyes drifting toward the door just as Natalie strolled in, joint already lit.

She spotted you instantly.

Her whole face lit up as she made a beeline toward you, tossing back the last of your drink before you could even greet her.

“Hey,” you pouted, throwing a pillow that she caught one-handed, still laughing. That sound made your chest ache a little—something about the way it cut through the music and the chatter and found you directly.

She dropped onto the couch beside you, pushing the joint into your fingers, her touch lingering. Her eyes burned into the side of your face as you took a drag, her knee bumping yours, her arm draping casually across your shoulders.

“Guess that means you gotta come get another drink with me,” she said, teasing.

You stuck your bottom lip out dramatically. “Won’t you just bring me one since you stole mine?”

She smirked, grabbing the back of your neck like she was going to shotgun—

But she didn’t.

Instead, she leaned in close, her breath grazing your cheek before her teeth nipped at your jaw. You yelped, pulling back dramatically.

She cackled, clutching her stomach. “Should’ve seen your face!”

You didn’t respond. The liquor and the weed made it hard to tell where your body ended and hers began, your senses all scrambled. But that was always what being around Natalie felt like—a quiet kind of chaos. Especially when she was high or drunk. That’s when she got affectionate—a hand on your thigh, her shoulder pressed against yours, dragging your legs over hers like it was nothing.

You’d grown to love it. Even when it flustered you.

You followed her into the kitchen to grab a drink, her body brushing yours like a puzzle piece that just fit. She leaned close, her hand resting lightly on your waist.

“Just get a beer,” she murmured into your ear, her breath warm on your neck.

“You just want me to get it so you can steal it again,” you teased.

She only shrugged, that same lazy, confident smirk on her lips.

Before she could respond, Randy Walsh stumbled up, pressing in a little too close. His words were slurred, but his grin was solid. “Can’t leeeet a pretty girl like you make her own drink. Allow me.”

You felt Natalie go still beside you. Her hand twitched against your side but didn’t move. And Randy was already splashing random liquors into a cup before you could say no.

You smiled awkwardly. “Thanks… Randy. That’s sweet.”

He beamed, handing you the cup like it was a gift from God. You took a sip and barely swallowed it down, fighting the urge to gag. He didn’t seem to notice, stepping closer until the tips of your shoes touched, his hand reaching out to gently grab your wrist.

You turned to Natalie for help.

But she was gone.

Just like that. The space behind you was empty, the warmth of her touch already fading.

Your eyes scanned the room, over Tai and Van tangled up on the couch, Jackie and Shauna laughing at something Jeff said—

No Natalie.

You pulled your arm from Randy’s grip gently. “Sorry, Randy. I, uh… need to do something.”

Before he could answer, you were gone, leaving the drink behind and grabbing a beer instead. You wandered through the hallways until you heard the familiar sound of some grungy band playing through a cracked door. You knocked once, then let yourself in.

Lottie’s room.

Natalie was sprawled across the bed, staring up at the ceiling. She didn’t look at you right away, but when she did, something in her expression made your chest squeeze. You couldn’t read her—not really—but this felt… new. Like something unspoken was simmering just beneath the surface.

You didn’t say anything. Just flopped onto the bed beside her.

She stayed quiet, kicking her feet lazily off the edge of the bed. You nudged her foot with yours until she finally turned her head. Her gaze softened, and she rolled toward you, arm curling over your waist.

“Hey,” she mumbled into your shoulder.

You bumped her head gently with your own, fingers tracing light patterns over her wrist. The words left your mouth before you could stop them, soft and a little slurred. “You left me.”

“I mean, you seemed pretty preoccupied with Randy fucking Walsh,” she grumbled, barely loud enough for you to hear.

You scoffed. “Randy? Get real. He was just being nice. I didn’t want to be rude.”

Natalie stilled.

Then, like someone had poured cold water down her back, she sat bolt upright, staring at you like you’d just spoken another language.

“Just being nice?” she repeated, eyebrows raised. “He was obviously flirting with you.”

You blinked, completely thrown. “What are you talking about?”

Natalie just stared at you.

Then she laughed. Sharp, almost breathless, like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?”

She shook her head, exasperated and amused. “God, you’re so fucking clueless.”

You frowned. “Clueless about what?”

“You—” She started, then stopped. Her eyes were still locked on yours, but her voice dipped lower now, quieter. “You don’t see the way people look at you.”

“I mean…” You trailed off, still not understanding. “What does that even—?”

Natalie just looked at you, dumbfounded, like she was seeing you for the first time and trying to make sense of the image. You blinked at her, still confused. Natalie threw her hands up, dropping back onto the bed with a dramatic huff. “Jesus Christ. You really didn’t know.”

Your brows pulled together, frustration blooming in your chest—not at her, not really, but at whatever you were clearly missing. “Know what?”

“That he was flirting with you,” she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Like, blatantly. The drink thing? The wrist thing? The standing so close he could breathe your air thing?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it again. You thought about Randy, the weird way he smiled, how close he stood, the way he called you pretty—but you'd brushed all of it off. Guys were weird sometimes. Friendly in a way that made you squirm. But flirting? Really?

“I just thought he was being nice,” you repeated again, quieter this time.

Natalie let out a long exhale, propping herself up on one elbow, her eyes locked on you. She didn’t look mad anymore. She just looked... thoughtful.

“You really don’t get it,” she said, more to herself than to you. “God. I’ve been trying to flirt with you for months.”

Your stomach dropped. “Wait. What?”

Natalie laughed, but there wasn’t a lot of humor in it. “The smoke thing? The lap thing? Literally everything I do when I’m around you? That’s flirting.”

Your brain scrambled to catch up. You replayed a million tiny moments all at once—the touches, the teasing, the way her eyes always lingered longer than necessary, the way she looked at you when you were too tipsy to walk straight or when you made her laugh so hard she snorted. All the times your heart raced, all the times you talked yourself out of reading into it.

“I... I thought that was just you,” you said quietly.

Natalie’s expression softened. “It is me. But it’s also me trying to figure out if you feel the same way. Because I’ve liked you for a long time. And I wasn’t sure if you didn’t notice... or if you were just pretending not to.”

Natalie stared at you, like she was waiting for you to run. Like she was daring you not to.

You didn’t have a plan. You didn’t even really think. Your body just moved—drunk off adrenaline, and weed, and months of wanting without really knowing why. You leaned in and kissed her.

It wasn’t slow. It wasn’t some perfect movie-moment kiss. It was messy, and rushed, and slightly off-center because you both went for it at the same time. But it was right.

She kissed you back like she’d been waiting to exhale.

When you finally pulled apart, foreheads pressed together, both of you breathless and grinning, you whispered, “So that was definitely flirting, right?”

Natalie laughed, loud and real. “Yeah. That was flirting.”

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