Wholesome Nat🥲 - Blog Posts

hiiii <3 i think i’m obsessed w your mediocre gf nat fics js, i’ve re read them all many times, they’re so great- anyway ily good job :)

also wondering would mediocre gf nat ever ever get soft w her gf? cause whenever she is i imagine her gf being like ‘are you feeling okay?’ lmao

hey thank u! ilyt i think im going to be making a mediocre gfs masterlist soon its getting huge

note: rome ants<3

The car is silent as Nat drives. Your hand hangs out the window, fingers wiggling in the cold air. The streetlights whizz by, appearing as streaks when you lean your head against the door and unfocus your eyes. The radio is turned low, and a man reports on a traffic jam in a different intersection, voice coming out low and fuzzy with static.

Nat makes an exit with fewer streetlights. The road is rough and winds down a hill.

Towards the ocean.

The car bumps over the gravel into a parking spot. You look over, tilting your head. Nat sits, staring out at the dark water, hands gripped on the wheel. You move your hand towards Nat’s leg, but she jolts into movement all of a sudden, unbuckling her seatbelt and near leaping out of the car. You scramble to follow.

Sand plumes behind her in her haste to the shoreline. You jog over her boot prints until you’re close enough to grab her elbow. Nat slows marginally—the only acknowledgement of your presence she spares on you.

She comes to an abrupt halt right before the sand is wet. She looks out towards the horizon. Or where you think the horizon is; it’s too dark to differentiate sky from sea.

“Nat?” You tug on her arm. Hold it close to your chest.

“I…” Nat blinks. Her lips twitch into a fragile smile, and she cranes her head to look over at you.

You hunch closer, wind whistling through your bodies. Her hair tickles your face. “What is it?”

“I missed you,” she admits slowly. Like she’s surprised herself with emotion. She does that sometimes.

You furrow your eyebrows, reaching a hand over to cup her cheek. “Me too. Next time you leave for a month, maybe don’t tell me over text.”

Nat’s smile widens, eyes trained on your face as if committing every detail of it to memory. She nods and whispers: “Okay.”

“And bring me a souvenir,” you go on, bumping your forehead into hers.

“Oh,” Nat says. “I did.”

“What did you get me?”

“Dental dams.”

The hand on her face shoves her away. You huff. “You’re so annoying.”

Nat laughs, hand catching your wrist easily, and she pulls you back into her body. Her arms circle your waist, and you give in, dumping your head onto her shoulder. Soaking in the warmth of her body. The warmth of her presence. Of her joy.

“Tell me it’s the flavoured kind, at least,” you mumble into her leather jacket.

“Only the best for you, baby,” she murmurs into the side of your head, leaving, along with it, a gentle kiss. “I… I, um, love you, you know?”

Your arms constrict around her waist, fists clenching around her jacket. Reminding her, physically, that you’re hers. “I know.”

“I wouldn’t leave you. Nothing could make me leave you willingly,” she continues in that same brittle voice. But it gets stronger as she goes, more vehement. “I don’t want to go sometimes. I just want to lie in bed with you. Or be lazy on the couch. I know- I mean, we’re not that type of couple, but I-” She sighs, breath fanning over your skin. “I just… I love you.”

You sink your hands into her hair, slipping your fingers through smooth strands of red, and you tug her head back so you can look into her eyes. See for herself your sincerity when you say: “I love you too.”

“Yeah,” Nat agrees quietly.

“But,” you say as you frown a little, “are you feeling okay?”

Nat goes to say something, but you smack her forehead with the back of your hand.

“You feel okay. What’s wrong with you?”

Now, she scowls and bats your arm away. “Fuck you.”

You grin, pushing your body weight further onto her. She grunts, looking very much inconvenienced by you. “Okay, but seriously, are you okay?”

“Yes,” she hisses. “I’m fucking normal.”

“No, I mean, did something happen during your mission?” You smooth your hands over the back of her neck, scratching lightly at her nape. “I worry, obviously. You peace out for a month with a bunch of guns and your superhero homies; it’s a bit scary being left behind.”

Nat’s gaze drops to the side, downward, gnawing at her lip. “Do you feel left behind?”

You dip your head down to catch her eyes again. “No.” She inhales deeply. Waits. You smile. “I know you love me even if you only say it to me like twice a year—my birthday and, like, our anniversary—because you make me feel loved. I know you try your best to keep up with me and my little life here. I know you don’t leave me behind for the hell of it. I meant it in a very literal sense. You board a plane and fly several hours to beat people up for money.”

“That’s a bit reductive,” she mutters.

“Your job description is literally classified,” you say dryly.

“Okay,” Nat says, accepting your heartfelt speech with a heaving sigh. “I was in a submarine.”

When Nat tugs your heads back together, you’re too taken aback by the lack of segue to resist.

“The way out was blocked. Water’s pouring in from a massive hole we’d blown into the side. Bodies around me. Just me.” Nat’s eyes close, and her head slants away from the water lapping up the sand. “I thought about you, then. I thought that you didn’t have a ride home from work anymore and that I couldn’t bring you junk food on the weekends. I thought that if I didn’t find a way out, no one would make you laugh like I do. Love you like me.” Her eyes squint open, a coy little smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. “Y’know, fuck you like me.”

You nudge her nose with the tip of your own, chiding her for ruining the moment. Still: “Perhaps you overestimate your importance to me.”

“Oh? Do I?” she plays along, squeezing you in her arms.

But the way Nat looks right now, so close to you, is striking in a different kind of way. That’s saying something because she’s always beautiful to you, even when she’s a right mess. Her eyes, usually a light green, are dark in the night, and staunchly refuse to look away from you. Takes you in so resolutely, so tenderly. So, you sigh, pushing impossibly closer. “No,” you sigh. “You don’t.”

Nat presses her lips to yours, smiling. “Let’s go home.”