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aliveskies · 12 hours ago

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nathalie scatorccio x new girl (Pre-crash High School Au)

transferring in your senior year at Wiskayok High School, the last thing you expect is for cigarette-scented, eyelinered Natalie Scatorccio to take you under her wing—and maybe never let go.

“You stood me up, loser.”

Her voice was low. A little smug, as she walked past your desk, flicked your pencil off the table like she owned the room—and your attention.

You hadn’t met her after school yesterday.

Because, well… you didn’t have time for girls like Natalie Scatorccio. Girls who showed up smelling like smoke all the time. All leather and sarcasm and those stupid heart-shaped sunglasses.

You stopped rewriting your notes and sighed. Bent down to grab the pencil. Rolled your eyes before sitting back up.

She was already in her seat—slouched low, laughing with the same crowd she always smoked with after school. Loud. Reckless. Effortlessly magnetic.

You glared at her.

The classroom buzzed with chaotic energy—desks scraping against tile, someone yelling across the room, a ball of paper flying past your head. Laughter. Curses. The clatter of pens hitting the floor. The teacher wasn’t even pretending to pay attention anymore.

Natalie turned to you, one foot up on the chair in front of her, elbows on her knees, eyebrows raised like she was waiting for a reaction.

“Bitch,” you muttered under your breath, staring.

She tilted her head, lips curling. “You’re the bitch,” she said—smug. Smirking.

You rolled your eyes and turned to face forward just as the bell rang.

Around you, the classroom erupted into motion—desks scraping, chairs dragging, students calling out to each other across the room like the teacher didn’t even exist. He shouted something about homework, but no one cared. Not even you.

You sighed and began gathering your things. Just as you were about to slip your notebook into your bag, a hand slammed down on your desk, making you flinch.

You looked up—and, of course, it was Natalie. She was leaning over you, looking down like she was sizing you up.

“I can’t believe you stood me up yesterday,” she said, her eyes taking you in casually.

You tilted your head, forcing a confused look as you blinked up at her.

“Uh, I don’t remember ever saying yes to meet you at your friend’s park.”

She narrowed her eyes and tilted her head, studying you like some disappointing little science experiment.

“You’re so boring,” she muttered.

Her fingers hovered near your face for a second, then casually brushed the edge of your hair—like she was wiping something off. Without warning, they dropped lower, trailing along your collar before coming to rest on the top button of your blouse.

You blinked. Hard.

Your eyes dropped just in time to catch her buttoning it up, like it offended her.

You looked back up, eyebrows raised. “What are you—”

She sighed dramatically, like you were the one being ridiculous, and grabbed your bag off the seat. “Come on.”

She was already halfway to the door, slipping into the flow of students in the hallway.

You groaned under your breath and grabbed the rest of your stuff, stuffing things into your arms in a mess of folders and pens.

“Natalie,” you called after her, annoyed. “Seriously?”

She turned around, already halfway into the hallway chaos. Without a word, she marched back over, took everything straight out of your arms, and shoved it all into your bag. You just stood there and stared.

“…Where are we going now?” you asked, arms crossed, voice sharp. You sounded annoyed—but not enough to stop her, and she knew it.

She zipped your bag shut with a loud zzzt, then grinned. “To the park.”

You scoffed. “Well, I don’t wanna go to the park with you. I wanna go home. Maybe consider asking me that?”

She just smirked—your bag now slung over her shoulder—and stepped in front of you like she hadn’t heard a thing.

You tried not to roll your eyes as one of her friends passed by and dapped her up, muttering something about a party or some place they’d “see her at later.” You didn’t catch most of it, and Natalie only laughed like it was an inside joke.

She didn’t even look back at you until you glanced past the flow of students heading for the school gates.

Then—her arm looped casually around your shoulders, tugging you forward.

“You’re bloody irritable,” she muttered, lips close to your ear. “Let me fix that.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms even as she dragged you along. “You’re annoying.”

She laughed when you snatched your bag back from her shoulder with one swift motion.

“So this is the park?” you asked, arms crossed as you looked around.

It wasn’t a park. Just the fenced-in patch behind the classrooms that the school didn’t bother using anymore—overgrown grass, sun-faded vandalism all over the brick walls, a few broken plastic chairs scattered like litter. There were big rusting metal pipes students used to trip over before they started sitting on them. Someone had drawn a very poorly executed... something on the side of one.

Natalie scoffed and reached up to pinch your nose.

“Hey—” you started, but she was already tugging you closer, her arm still slung around your shoulder like it belonged there.

She guided you toward one of the sturdier pipes. A few of her friends were already there—leaning against the wall or sitting on the pipe ends, passing around a lighter and a half-empty soda bottle of something that was definitely not soda.

They dapped her up one by one, throwing lazy greetings. A few glanced your way, nodding casually.

You nodded back—awkward, just a little. You felt ridiculous. But then you remembered the way Natalie sometimes nodded smugly when she greeted them, like a queen making her rounds, and for a second it almost felt like you were part of something.

You knew the group. Knew their names. Had shared classes. But you didn’t really talk to them—mostly because Natalie never let them talk to you the way they talked to everyone else. She kept you close but separate. Like some pet project. Like you were hers. Sort of.

Natalie plopped down beside you, lit a cigarette, and exhaled slowly like it was something cinematic.

You watched her.

“So... you brought me here to watch you smoke?” you said, flatly. “To inhale secondhand smoke and possibly get lung cancer in the near future?”

She laughed under her breath, pulling the cigarette from her mouth, ash flicking onto the ground.

“Isn’t it kinda hot, though?” she asked, grinning. “Watching me smoke?”

You didn’t even blink. “No.”

You sighed, deciding to dig through your bag for something to distract you. Maybe your sandwich. Maybe your last shred of dignity.

But the second you unzipped it, Natalie reached for the bag.

“You’re not gonna do your homework here,” she said, cigarette balanced between her fingers like punctuation.

You frowned at her like she’d lost her mind. “I’m not going to do my homework here,” you hissed, glancing around at her friends, suddenly hyper-aware of their presence. God forbid they hear that.

Natalie let go of your bag with a laugh. You glared at her, muttering something under your breath as you rummaged inside, finally pulling out your sandwich.

She watched you as she smoked, eyes lazy, amused.

You unwrapped the sandwich—wax paper crinkling—and took a bite. Just as you swallowed, you caught her still watching.

“…Are you eating a sandwich right now?” she asked, brow raised, the faintest smile twitching at her lips.

You deadpanned, “No, I’m hitting it.”

She let out a short laugh, surprised. You scoffed at her reaction.

“What’s funny?” you asked, chewing.

Natalie shook her head, smoke curling from her mouth as she grinned, still laughing a little.

“Hm. You’re just so damn adorable,” she muttered, before taking another hit.

You looked away, choosing to focus on your sandwich instead, but she didn’t stop staring.

“Let me have some,” she said, eyes dropping to the sandwich.

You shook your head. “Nope.”

She frowned like you’d just kicked her dog. “Why?” She was still smoking, like she hadn’t already forgotten the sandwich wasn’t the only thing in her mouth.

“You have your cigarette,” you said, flatly, taking another bite.

“This isn’t food,” she argued, gesturing with it.

You turned your head, leveled her with a deadpan stare. “Put that out.”

She stared back at you, slowly took one last hit, then scoffed and stubbed it out on the side of the pipe.

You didn’t say anything. You just tore the sandwich in half and handed her the other piece.

Natalie took the sandwich half from you with zero gratitude, like it was hers by default. She took a bite, watching you like she was waiting for a reaction.

Before you could give her one, a voice cut in from a few feet away.

“Yo, Nat,” one of her friends called out—Trev, maybe, the one always trying too hard to be funny. “You sharing lunch now? Since when are you nice?”

You didn’t look up. You just kept chewing.

But then he added, louder, “If she gets tired of you, send her my way.”

That made your head snap up. You stared at him, brows pulled together, already halfway annoyed.

Natalie didn’t laugh.

Instead, she exhaled slowly, shifted closer to you, and without even looking at him, said, “Yeah, no. She’s not for you.”

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t a threat. But it was solid. Sharp.

You blinked, caught somewhere between startled and flustered. Her arm brushed yours as she leaned forward on her elbows, like she hadn’t just claimed you in front of half her friends.

Trev made a face, held up his hands. “Damn, alright.”

You turned to her. “Not for him?”

Natalie shrugged, casually licking some crumbs off the corner of her thumb. “Yeah. You’re mine.”

“…Excuse me?”

She grinned. “Relax. I meant the sandwich.”

“Mostly.” She added after a beat.

You scoffed and looked away.

She laughed softly, bumping your knee with hers under the pipe. “Don’t worry. I don’t share stuff I actually like.”

The group eventually thinned out—one by one peeling off toward home, practice, wherever else teenagers with too much time and not enough supervision went. Someone tossed an empty can across the fence. Another lit a cigarette and left before finishing it.

Soon it was just you and Natalie again—still on the pipe, a bit of empty silence settling between you. Not awkward but not comfortable either.

You wiped your fingers on the sandwich wrapper, crumpling it into a ball. She was still beside you, leaned back on her hands, her eyes squinting at the sky like she was pretending not to look at you.

“You know I actually waited for you yesterday?” casually, she said.

You turned your head a little. “What?”

She kept staring up, voice airy, almost joking. “At the shed. I waited. Thought maybe you’d show.”

You blinked.

Natalie snorted at your silence and glanced at you, eyes squinting. “Don’t worry, I didn’t cry about it or anything. I just chain-smoked and threatened a raccoon.”

You let out a breath through your nose, trying not to smile. “Sounds productive.”

“Oh, super,” she said, nodding. “Therapeutic. Changed me as a person.”

You shook your head, looking down at your shoes. “I didn’t think you were serious.”

“I’m never serious,” she said immediately, grinning. “That’s, like, my whole thing.”

You didn’t say anything.

She didn’t either, for a few seconds. Just kicked a piece of gravel with her boot and sighed like she was bored. It was quiet, unusually quiet. Only the rustling of trees behind the fence, the sound of traffic a few blocks away, and your own pulse in your ears.

“Come on. Let me take you home.” She stood up.

You blinked, squinting up at her. “You don’t have to.”

“Yeah,” she said, shrugging like it was no big deal. “But I want to.”

So you stood too—dusting your palms off on your skirt, slinging your now-lighter bag over your shoulder.

The two of you headed out of the school grounds together. The sun was low in the sky, casting everything in a soft pinkish haze. The air smelled like cut grass and old smoke. Someone had a car stereo blasting something distant and bass-heavy down the street.

You didn’t talk.

You just walked. Your shoulders barely brushing sometimes. Her steps falling into rhythm with yours, like they always did.

And it wasn’t the first time Natalie had done this—claimed you like that. Said things that made people laugh, made you roll your eyes, made something uncomfortable stir in your chest before you buried it.

She did it often, actually. Called you hers. Told people to back off. Grabbed your hand in crowded hallways just to lead you nowhere. Took things from you like they were hers to begin with.

You didn’t really think anything of it.

Well—she’s Natalie. She says things. She does things. That’s just how she is.

You didn’t think of her that way.

Not until now, really.

You glanced at her from the corner of your eye.

She looked calm. Unbothered. Like she wasn’t still carrying half your sandwich in her stomach and a small piece of your brain in her back pocket.

You looked forward again, swallowing whatever that thought was before it finished forming.

You slowed down when you reached the last block before your street. Natalie glanced at you, one brow raised.

“You live that way, right?”

You nodded but didn’t keep walking.

She frowned. “You scared or something?”

You rolled your eyes, slumping your shoulders as you released a heavy sigh. “No. You can’t walk me all the way.”

She tilted her head. “Why?”

You hesitated. “My parents.. don’t like when I hang out with you.”

Natalie blinked at that. Then laughed. “Ouch.”

“I’m serious.”

“Well, I’m flattered.”

You sighed, rubbing the strap of your bag. “They think you’re... a bad influence.”

“Well,” she said, grinning, “they’re not wrong.”

You didn’t smile. She noticed.

For a second, Natalie looked like she might say something real. But then she shrugged, all lazy charm again. “Alright. I’ll stop here then, Miss Good Influence.”

You looked at her.

She leaned in, voice lower now. “Don’t ditch me tomorrow.”

You rolled your eyes. “We’ll see.”

She smirked. Took a step back. “Don’t make me wait at the park again. I might actually cry this time.”

You snorted. “You’d cry because no one’s watching you be dramatic.”

“Exactly.”

And with that, she turned and walked back the way you came, hands in her pockets, head tilted toward the pink sky.

You stood there a second longer than you needed to.

It was late.

You were sitting at your desk, the yellow glow of your lamp cast across your textbook. The same paragraph had been sitting in front of you for nearly ten minutes now.

You were not thinking about Natalie.

Okay... you were. A little.

You resisted the urge to glance at your phone for the fourth time in three minutes.

But of course, you lost.

You:

Hey

She replied almost instantly.

Nat:

ohh

can’t wait till tomorrow?

You rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched a little anyway.

You:

i feel bad.

Nat:

why is that?

You bit your lip. Your thumbs hovering above the keyboard.

You:

it's because my parents don’t want me hanging out with you

and i know you’ll still walk me home despite that

i don’t wanna feel bad

don’t walk me home anymore

It took her all of five seconds to reply.

nat:

don’t be dramatic

i don’t even feel bad even if your parents don’t like me

ur making it like we’re dating or smth lol

u actually like hanging out w me ik haha

You groaned and slumped forward in your chair, letting your head drop onto your arms.

She was the worst. And she was right.

Your phone buzzed again.

nat:

guess who’s outside your window rn

Your heart skipped—just once.

You turned your head toward the window. A second later, a small clack hit the glass. Your eyes widened.

“What the—” you muttered, pushing out of your chair and walking to it.

You unlocked the window and pulled it open, cool night air brushing your face. Down below, standing on the grass in your backyard, was Natalie.

Grinning.

“What are you doing?” you half-shouted in a whisper-yell, hands gripping the windowsill.

She shrugged. “Thought you said you felt bad.”

“That doesn’t mean come to my house!”

“Too late,” she said, like that settled it.

You sighed and closed the window halfway, muttering under your breath as you crept out of your room, through the dark hallway, and tiptoed down the stairs.

You opened the back door and there she was. Same grin. Hands in the pockets of that worn leather jacket.

“You’re actually insane,” you whispered as she slipped inside.

Natalie just smirked. “Takes one to let me in.”

You closed the door behind her with a quiet click, pressing a finger to your lips.

“Don’t make noise,” you whispered. “My parents are already asleep.”

Natalie nodded, eyes roaming your room like she was walking into sacred territory.

It was her first time here. You could tell by how she looked at everything—your bookshelf, the notes stuck on your mirror, the old Polaroids from school trips and birthdays taped to the wall.

You sat on the edge of your bed, watching her.

“So,” you asked softly, “were you already outside even before I texted you?”

She didn’t answer right away. Her gaze had landed on a framed photo—one of you, maybe nine or ten, grinning with missing teeth

Then she turned, hovering by your desk.

“Well,” she said slowly, “there was this party I was going to…”

You raised an eyebrow. “I’m not coming with you.”

Natalie smiled, walking closer. “I know. That’s why I’m here.”

You blinked. She shrugged, like it was obvious. “It was lame anyway,” she said. “Figured I’d rather stay here. With you.”

You rolled your eyes. “I didn’t specifically invite you over.”

“I was going to surprise you,” she replied nonchalantly.

You scoffed, giving her a look. “Uh-huh.”

She grinned, unbothered, and sat beside you—close enough that your knees brushed.

She leaned back on her hands, arms behind her for support, head tilted toward the ceiling like she was trying not to look directly at you.

Your eyes stayed on her—on the messy strands of her blonde hair falling across her face, the way her eyeliner had smudged just slightly under her lashes. Your gaze dropped to her nose, then her lips. The shape of it. The way it moved when she breathed out.

She sighed, eyes still on the ceiling, before finally turning to look at you.

She stayed just like that—propped on her hands, relaxed like nothing about this moment meant anything. All confident and calm, her expression unreadable.

Until her gaze shifted. Slowly.

From your eyes… down to your slightly parted lips.

Like she was already imagining the next move.

You swallowed. Your chest was suddenly too tight. You didn’t move.

You didn’t want to.

Maybe you’d been drawn to her from the start and just kept pretending it didn’t mean anything. Maybe tonight you didn’t feel like pretending anymore.

“Keep looking at me like that…” she said softly, barely above a whisper.

You didn’t say anything.

And then she leaned in—fast, like she needed to do it before she changed her mind—and kissed you.

It was sudden, and warm, and made you gasp softly against her mouth.

She pulled back—barely an inch—searching your face, waiting for you to push her away.

You didn’t.

So she kissed you again.

And this time, you kissed her back.

Her hand slid up, fingertips brushing your jaw before she deepened the kiss—slow, exploratory, like she’d been waiting for this moment and wanted to take her time with it. Her mouth moved against yours with the kind of confidence that made your breath catch.

Her tongue slid past your lips, and you let her in.

You barely noticed when her hands moved—one on your waist, the other curling around the back of your neck. She pushed you down gently, guiding you back onto the mattress like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Your heart was pounding. Loud. Full. But you didn’t stop her.

Natalie leaned over you, lips trailing away from your mouth to the line of your jaw, then to the soft skin beneath your ear. Her breath was warm. Her voice even warmer.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” she whispered against your neck.

She kissed there too—your neck, your collarbone, each press of her mouth softer than the last. You felt her fingers at the buttons of your nightshirt, and you didn’t stop her. You couldn’t.

She went slow. Like she didn’t want to spook you. Like she was still checking if you’d change your mind.

Then she kissed her way down—lower, to your chest, to your stomach—pausing just long enough to look up at you.

"You don’t know how much I’ve wanted to do this to you,” she murmured, voice low, honest.

And you didn’t know what to say back.

You only let her keep kissing you.

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