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roosterforme · 11 months ago

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Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: The collection of letters that Bradley received from the fourth grade class provides him with entertainment while deployed. He takes the time to answer their questions and send a package back to the United States via air mail. But he has your email address. He also has a bit of a crush and some questions himself.

Warnings: Fluff, language

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

A few days later, when Bradley was done with his training protocols for the day, he returned to his bunk with a different mission in mind. While he unzipped his flight suit, he eyed the box which was taking up most of his nightstand, and a smile found its way to his lips. He managed to find a notebook that nobody wanted along with a thick, padded envelope, and he was going to take the time to respond to the fourth graders who wrote to him.

He'd spent hours poring over the letters, laughing at some of the questions from the kids and frequently picking up that one photo. He couldn't stop going back for more. For another look at you. Just one more look. Okay, this really was the last one. He had to toss it across the small room toward his duffel so he could focus on something other than your smile and the fact that he might have a tiny crush on a fourth grade teacher who knew absolutely nothing about him. Yet.

The note from Jayden was on the top, and Bradley opened it up and started to jot down a response.

Jayden,

It was so nice to hear from you and the rest of your class. To answer your pertinent questions, I am currently stationed on the USS Theodore Roosevelt. The most disgusting food in the mess hall is easily the cabbage rolls (which taste nothing like cabbage... or rolls). The best food in the mess hall is surprisingly the meatloaf. And yes, I would love to see a photo of your Cocker Spaniel. Please send one next time. I hope you're studying and doing your best in school.

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

The next note he decided to tackle was the one from Violet who had the tiniest handwriting he'd ever seen. The page had at least fifteen questions written out, but he decided to answer just a few for her. He had to squint as he skimmed through them again.

Violet,

You seem very inquisitive. That's a great quality to have, especially if you want to be a pilot someday. No, I did not attend the Naval Academy. I went to the University of Virginia. Yes, the Navy is way better than the Air Force. Yes, I can hold my breath underwater for three minutes. Yes, they actually made me do it. No, I don't think I could make it as a Navy SEAL. Yes, I have been staying hydrated and getting enough sun, thanks so much for asking. Keep studying hard, because you have a lot of school ahead of you before officer training.

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

Okay, so this was actually a lot of fun. Up next was a response to the note from Oliver, which made Bradley laugh every time he looked at it.

Oliver,

Thank you so much for drawing the different Naval aircrafts for me. I hate to break it to you, but I actually do not fly the F-35 Lightning II. Yes, I know they look 'sickeningly cool'. Yes, I know it would be like 'slam dunking off the back of a dragon'. I guess I never knew I was jealous of those pilots until right now.... But I fly the equally cool if not quite as sickening looking F/A-18 Super Hornet. And yes, I would be more than happy to draw my own version of one for you. See below.

Lt. Bradley Bradshaw

The ten minutes he spent replicating his own aircraft to the best of his ability for Oliver churned out a pretty damn good result. He fished his phone out of the nightstand and took a picture to email to Nat when he had time, because she would find this whole thing amusing. Then he reached for the letters from Harrison, Nia and Jackie. He wrote his responses, and after a bit, he had a decent sized stack of letters all ready to go back to the fourth graders.

After a few more days, he worked his way through the entire class, and each kid would soon have a handwritten response on the way. He just needed to figure out what he wanted to say to you. The pretty teacher from the class photo that he now kept tucked in with his personal items. He worked on that one last, writing your full name at the top of the page and wishing you didn't go by the very non-specific Ms. which gave him zero clue as to whether or not you were married.

The package you sent was the nicest piece of deployment mail I have ever received. Thank you. I'm lucky it ended up in my hands. I'm impressed by how much all of your students have learned about aviation this year. I just hope I did them justice in regards to the questions they had for me.

I also hope you don't mind that I replied to each kid individually. They had some very amusing stories and questions, and I wanted to acknowledge all of them. But there was one question in particular that I was asked so many times, I thought I'd answer it here instead. My call sign is kind of a silly one, so it's okay if you all laugh. I go by Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, and my helmet is mostly red, yellow and black.

Your kids seem like a fun bunch, but I bet they keep you on your toes. Feel free to let them know they can write back to me again, but please include my name on the package this time. I don't know that I'd be lucky enough to have it fall into my hands again by chance. I'll just be here somewhere in the middle of the Pacific Ocean for a few more months, ready to answer any questions you throw at me. Hope to hear back from you soon.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

The following day, he packed everything up and dropped it off with the rest of the ship's outgoing mail. There was a rumor that a helicopter would be coming to pick it up in the next day or two, and he wanted to make sure it got back to California and those fourth graders as soon as possible. On his way back to his bunk, Bradley stopped by the lounge to see if there was an iPad free, hoping to send a quick email or two. He was in luck. He also happened to have your email address memorized.

--------------------------

You yawned at your desk and checked the time on your computer. Within the next ten minutes, your classroom would go from silent solitude to mass chaos, so you took a minute to clear out your email inbox. You had a few messages from some parents and a reminder about Spirit Week from the superintendent. And a random piece of junk mail that must have slipped through the spam filters. You didn't know anyone with a US Navy email address, and you didn't know anyone named Bradley Bradshaw.

As you closed your laptop, you gasped and tried to pry it back open again as quickly as you could. The Navy! The package you sent a few weeks ago! Maybe it was someone writing back to your class! Of course it could just be someone saying they were sorry that they didn't have time to engage with your students, but you figured even that was better than nothing.

"Come on," you whispered, entering your credentials again before your inbox reappeared on your screen. The email was just a few lines long, but it was addressed to you by name. You were smiling immediately as you read it.

I just wanted to let you know that I got the mail you sent to a deployed Naval Aviator. There's a package on its way to your school for your class. It should arrive in about a week or two. Your fourth graders provided me with several hours of entertainment, and I hope they find my answers to their many (and amusing) questions useful. Thanks for the laughs, and thanks for the photos, too. Can't tell you how much I've been enjoying them. Hope to hear from all of you again.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

You squealed and pumped your fists in the air. Someone actually got the box! And he actually responded! The other, older teachers thought you were just wasting your time when you deviated from the lesson plans a bit. Literally all of them said there was no way anyone would write back, even though you took the time to go through the proper channels at Top Gun on North Island. But now you could rub it in their faces, all thanks to Bradley Bradshaw who sounded like he'd had as much fun with this whole thing as your class had.

Then your day really started as Violet and Oliver burst into your classroom, calling out your name with excitement in their voices. The rest of your kids followed behind them, already asking about the plans for the day and what kind of adventure you'd be taking them on in each subject.

When you clapped your hands twice and said, "Good morning," they all clapped and replied with their own greeting, and then they sat quietly with their gazes fixed on you. "Guess who I just got an email from!"

"The president!"

"My grandma!"

"My Cocker Spaniel!"

"Oliver's grandma!"

You just shook your head and tried not to laugh as you said, "None of the above. But do you remember when we wrote and packed up those letters for a real aviator in the military to read?" Most of the kids nodded, so you added, "Well, he emailed us! And he sent us some mail that should arrive in about a week!"

And telling them that was a mistake. Because you didn't know a moment of peace after that. Every morning, you had kids rushing into the room to see if the promised piece of mail arrived yet. Every day you had to disappoint them, but you were finding yourself a little disappointed, too. You wanted to know what this Bradley Bradshaw guy sent back.

You'd responded to his initial email letting him know you and the kids in your class were delighted to hear from him and that you would let him know when the mail he sent arrived at your school. He didn't respond, but you figured he was busy. Too busy to constantly muck about with your class while he was thousands of miles away on a deployment.

And that was what left you standing at your desk with your mouth hanging open in awe when the padded envelope did finally arrive one morning. Because when you carefully cut it open, you found not just one letter to the class but individual handwritten notes, one for each child.

"Wow," you whispered, pulling the note with your name written on the top out of the stack. This man seemed humble and sweet, and his letter made you laugh in more than one spot as you read through it. Then you read it again. He sounded apologetic about responding to each individual kid, but you felt like your insides were melting. Who would do that? Who would take the time to give individual attention to a bunch of nine and ten year olds besides you? And you were technically getting paid to do it.

Bradley Bradshaw seemed willing to continue to engage with your kids, and you weren't going to stop him. Because starting that morning, he became something of a legend to your class. A celebrity. A real lieutenant in the Navy replied to all of their silly questions, and their love of aviation just grew from there. You figured you were going to have to keep your lesson plans going a bit longer while their faces lit up as you walked around the room and handed them each their notes. You had taken the time to skim them beforehand, often laughing at his sense of humor which seemed to jump off the pages.

"Can we write back to him?" Jayden asked as everyone read their notes from Lieutenant Bradshaw. "I have more questions."

You smiled and nodded. "Yes, you may write back to him." Then you postponed your geology lesson until the next day and let them spend the next forty minutes writing some followup letters. You took some pictures of them diligently toiling away at their desks, excitement on their faces. Then you bit your lip and sat down at your own desk.

As you started to construct an email letting him know the envelope had arrived, your thoughts drifted to what he might be like. Humble and sweet, for sure. But he also made it a point to tell you that the box from your class was the best piece of mail he'd ever received while deployed. Maybe he was a little bit lonely. Maybe he was single. Maybe he was stationed on the west coast. Your thoughts started to get ahead of you, and it was hard to reel them in when you imagined him excited to see another email from you. Smiling when he was handed another box from your class during mail call.

Dear Lt Bradley Bradshaw,

We got the envelope from you today, and my kids are absolutely thrilled! I'm not sure if you know how hard it can be to wrangle eighteen fourth graders all at one time, but they are currently sitting quietly and working on new letters for you to read. Once again, please don't feel obligated to continue correspondence if you're too busy. I'm sure you have other people you could be writing to who want your attention as well. I just wanted you to know they are overjoyed that a Naval officer took the time to answer their questions about aviation.

I have attached some photos as proof that they are sitting still. Thanks again for making their day.

You signed your name at the bottom the way you always would from your work email account, and then you attached the photos. After a brief debate about adding the selfie you took with Violet where most of your face was visible, you decided to just go for it. Adding it to the mix wouldn't hurt anything. It wasn't like this semi mystery man would be up all night thinking about you.

But you found that you were still thinking about him when you went home to your silent house and made dinner that evening. Maybe he was a little bit lonely, but maybe you were, too.

-------------------------

It was amazing how infrequently Bradley found himself thinking about Vanessa. He was busier now with his duties picking up a bit more as his deployment wore on, but even when he was tired and in his bunk at night, his thoughts seldom settled on her like he was afraid they might. He didn't miss her or her half-hearted emails, and he wasn't craving the connection of reunion sex with her.

Instead, he was thinking about what a group of fourth graders were learning about this week and what their cute teacher was up to. It had been a few days since you emailed him, letting him know that his package was delivered to your school. You made it sound like the kids were excited that he sent it in the first place, and when he really thought about it, he supposed some officers would have just eaten the snacks and tossed the notes in the trash.

He didn't reply to the email yet, still thrown off a bit by the pictures you attached. Your classroom was vibrant, and the kids were absorbed as they worked on more notes for him to read whenever they happened to be delivered to the carrier. But the photo with you in it held his attention longer than it should have. The fact that you were working at a school that was just a handful of miles from his damn house made him feel warm.

But what would he do about it? What could he do about it? Nothing. He didn't want you to think he was creepy. He still knew essentially nothing else about you. The only thing he could do was keep it friendly if not professional. Unless of course you did something to push the boundaries of conversation into a more personal realm. God, if you did....he didn't think he would be able to handle it.

The next day, when he was heading out on deck to talk to the mechanics who were doing regular maintenance on the aircrafts, he took his phone. "Hey, you mind if I take a few photos of some of the engine parts? I want to send them to a class of fourth graders who will think it's cool."

"Go ahead, Lieutenant," the head mechanic replied. Then he smiled and asked, "You dating a teacher?"

Well. Wouldn't that be something? Bradley would never run out of curious pen pals. He would always have some fourth graders to take interesting photos for and to send notes to. He'd always have a classroom to visit as soon as he got home from a deployment.

He couldn't help but picture you as the teacher.

"Nothing like that," he replied, his voice a little gravelly. "Just writing to some kids who are learning about aviation."

After dinner, when he had a chance to use an iPad in the lounge, he did his best to put together a response to your email that would at least hint at the curiosity he felt.

If all it takes is mail from three thousand miles away to get your class to sit quietly, then I should probably be writing to you every day. But I'm sure you're a great teacher. That's a given considering how much your students learned and shared with me. And I can assure you that I'm more than happy to take the time to write to your class. And you. Please don't think I feel obligated, because I do not. I want to.

I have attached a few pictures of some F/A-18 engine components as well as some of my cockpit controls. Each photo is labeled, but please let me know if you have any questions.

It was nice hearing from you.

Yours Truly,

Lt Bradley Bradshaw

As soon as he hit send, he wanted to kick himself. Should he have included a photo of his face like you had twice now? Or did he already sound too desperate to hear from you and your class again?

"Shit," he muttered, looking around the lounge as if there was going to be someone here proficient in the art of getting to know a fourth grade teacher without sounding stupid. But it was too late now. All he could do was wait for the next mail call or hope you decided to write back to his ramblings by the next time he checked his email.

-----------------------------

You were going to have to scrape your jaw off the floor. You had no idea what this man's face even looked like, but his hands were... something else. And his thighs... well, they were pretty great, too. It must have been too long since you got laid, because you were sitting at your desk in your classroom staring at the set of photos in your inbox, currently unable to look away from his right hand. It was wrapped around the throttle of his aircraft. It was elegant with attractive veins and rough calluses. You were sure that you were supposed to be focusing on the cockpit controls, but all you could see was that hand and his thick, muscular thighs below.

The next photo was no better for you. He was holding up his helmet with his call sign Rooster emblazoned across the front, and you were able to see his left ring finger. There was no wedding band. There was no evidence of an outline where a wedding band would belong. There was just his big, strong hand.

You whimpered softly while your students worked on their math tests. You couldn't help it as you took one last look before logging out of your email account. And now you needed to know if his face matched the very attractive image you had in your mind.

When Jayden called your name, you rocketed to your feet like you'd been caught red handed. "Yes?" you squeaked, your voice sounding higher pitched than usual.

"I'm done with my test. May I have the hall pass and use the restroom?"

You handed it to him as the rest of your class finished working through the math problems. A few minutes later, when you collected the papers from them, Violet asked, "When is Lieutenant Bradshaw going to write back to us?"

It had only been a few days since you mailed him the second box of notes and some more snacks, but it made you happy that they were all so invested in learning more from him.

"It will probably be a few weeks before we get anything in the mail. However... he did email me some pictures of engine and cockpit parts from the aircraft carrier for me to share with you guys." When you looked around the room, the kids were on the edges of their seats, excited expressions on their faces. With a laugh you added, "I was going to wait until tomorrow and use the projector to show them all to you, but if you're very well behaved for the rest of the afternoon, maybe I could pull them up on my computer for you to see them today."

Not two hours later, you were just as excited as the kids were to look at the photos... again. As they crowded around your desk, you opened up the first one of the cockpit to a barrage of questions.

"Is that really his jet?"

"Is that the throttle?"

"What do all the buttons do?"

"Was this right before he flew it?"

Once again you were distracted, but you managed to click over to the next photo, and the kids gasped in delight.

"His helmet is so cool!"

"It says Rooster!"

"That's his call sign!"

"Red is my favorite color!"

You just smiled softly and laughed. "Should we go ahead and start working on another list of questions for him?" you asked as you slowly scrolled through the rest of the pictures. "He said we can write back to him as much as we want to." When everyone cheered, you handed Oliver a marker and pointed to the board at the front of the classroom. "Let's start making a list."

You listened to all of your students call out questions for Bradley while Oliver wrote them down. Then Violet asked, "Can he send us a picture of his whole jet? From the outside of it?"

You cleared your throat and added, "Maybe he could get someone else to take the picture so he could stand in front of it. For size comparison."

Violet nodded, but you knew you were a fraud. Sure, it would be great for the kids to understand just how massive the F/A-18s were compared to an actual person, but you were the one who wanted to see all of Bradley. You were itching for it now.

Later that night, you drank most of a bottle of wine and did something you promised yourself you'd never do. You logged into your work email account after nine o'clock. You skipped over the handful of unread emails from parents and clicked on the icon to compose a new message. With your liquid courage goading you on, you typed up a response to Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw and hit send before you could think twice.

Thank you for the photos. They were very enlightening. We especially liked the ones where you were showing off your cockpit. Or I did, anyway. The kids liked all of them and started on another list of questions for you. Good luck getting rid of us now.

We were wondering if you could have someone take a picture of you standing in front of your jet. For size comparison purposes. And also because my students would like to know what you look like. Hearing from you makes our day even better.

You couldn't believe how forward you were being with this man who you'd never even met in person, but you fell asleep thinking about his hands and what they might be capable of.

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This Bradley makes me swoon. I've never wanted to be a fourth grade teacher so badly in my life. There is something that's starting to blossom between them even though they haven't even met in person. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 3

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f4ggydog · 8 days ago

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shauna x reader: is there someone else🔞

minors do not interact nor read! u have been warned!

warnings: nsfw, possessive shauna, toxic shauna, manipulative shauna, controlling shauna, reader uses pussy and cunt as genitalia, fingering, degradation, twisted affirmations, just overall bad friend behavior!

Unsurprisingly, Shauna’s had another fight with Jackie. It’s the daily routine at this point. The two bicker over nonsense and then they make up. That’s how it went and tonight was no different. Only it was kind of different because the argument was in front of a bunch of people, rather than being kept to themselves.

You weren’t sure who started it. Shauna always claimed that Jackie started it, but you know Shauna’s temper could get out of hand in certain moments. Though, you did not believe she always got out of hand. There was nuance to it, some nuance that might be able to save the friendship between the teenage girls if they can’t save themselves.

Shauna trudges over to you. You can’t tell if she’s half drunk or if this slow walking is just part of her being pissed off. Either way, you don’t want to bug her with inquiries. No need to add fuel when there’s already fire.

Shauna approaches you without a word. Her face screams fury and her hands are balled into fists. Should you try to console her or leave her be? She came over to you for a reason. It wouldn’t be abnormal to suggest that she might need some consoling, no?

“You’re a funny girl Shipman,” you say, carefully patting her shoulder. “Hanging out with girls that you don’t like. It’s like you enjoy torturing yourself.”

Shauna doesn’t respond, only shakes her head. However, she nuzzles into your touch and pulls you closer. Clearly it’s a sign that you’re doing something right. So you continue.

“What did Jackie say?” You ask. “How bad was it this time?”

Shauna always seemed to run to you when shit went awry. You were like her secret friend outside of the Yellowjackets that she never spoke about. But, she didn’t know how to explain to you that she didn’t just cause problems with Jackie this time. Now Taissa and Nat currently hated her guts as well. Perhaps without a bad reason, but still temporary hatred nonetheless.

“Can’t wait to go home,” Shauna sighs. “I should’ve never let Jackie convince me to go to a party I never wanted to go to. And stupid fucking Randy had the nerve to talk to me too.”

“Yeah, he’s definitely annoying.”

“He’s not just annoying,” Shauna grumbles. “He literally smells like shit. Like if I was in another continent right now, I would still be able to smell how much his breath stunk. It’s like he’s never heard of brushing his teeth.”

You wince at the description, imagining Randy’s odor traveling through your nostrils. It’s a good thing you never really got to hang out with him. Though, you realize that Shauna had no interest in being his company. She was only forced to stick around him because he’s close with Jackie’s boyfriend. And they were the epitome of Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee. Or perhaps Tweedle Dum and…Tweedle Dum again.

“Do you have your car with you?” Shauna asks. “Or did a friend drive you here?”

“N-No, no. I took my parents’ car.”

“Do you even have a license?” Shauna snickers.

“Um…” You debate the proper way to answer this question. “Ummm, let’s just say that’s…irrelevant.”

“So the answer is no.”

“Yeah okay,” you sigh. “The answer is no.”

“Don’t care.” Shauna shrugs. “As long as you can get me the fuck out of this place.”

When you both your reach your parents’ car, Shauna hastily hops into the passenger’s seat. She slouches in her seat without even putting her seatbelt on. Her arms are crossed and her lips are turned into a frown.

“So,” you say. “Do you want me to start driving you home or do you just want to stay here?”

“Don’t drive yet,” Shauna demands. “I think we need to talk.”

Your eyes widen slightly, but you obey her instructions. However, Shauna’s tone throws you off. Speak about what exactly? Why does she sound like she’s about to break up with you, despite you guys obviously not being in a relationship?

“Would you ever leave me?” Shauna asks. “Do you have somebody lined up in my place? Am I your second option? Be honest with me.”

“Shauna, what are you on about?” You arch your eyebrow. “No? Look, are you getting self conscious again because of Jackie? I know you have issues with her, but-“

“So, what if I am? You haven’t said anything nice about me the whole night.”

“N-Nothing prompted me to. I-I’m confused. What?”

“You complimented Jackie’s shoes,” Shauna reminds. “You didn’t compliment my shoes. Or my hair. Or my outfit. You didn’t compliment anything about me, but you complimented Jackie.”

“That’s cause I barely saw you the whole night, Shauna. I really think you’re looking too deep into this. Seriously, just relax.”

“You didn’t look for me because you like Jackie more than me,” Shauna asserts. “Admit it. Jackie’s better than me. So you like her more than me. She’s the queen bee so naturally everyone’s gonna flock to her. I get it.”

You stare at her with blatant confusion written on your face. “No Shauna, that couldn’t be further from the truth. I know you more than I know, Jackie!”

“And yet you still complimented her before you complimented me, so clearly I’m not good enough.”

“Shauna,” you sigh. “I don’t know what Jackie said to you at that party, but you’re overthinking this by a mile. And it’s okay if she’s influencing your mind a little bit, but there’s no need to project this on me. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Of course you’re trying to defend yourself,” Shauna grumbles. “I’m always the bad guy, aren’t I? I’m always the problem, always the villain! You think of me the same way Jackie does. You secretly hate my guts and only keep me around to torment me.”

The word ‘irrational’ almost slips out of your mouth, but you don’t dare use it. Even if it’s a perfectly accurate way to describe Shauna’s behavior currently.

“Am I pushing you away?” Shauna questions, softer than before. “Are you gonna leave?”

“I’m not going anywhere Shauna,” you reassure your insecure buddy. “Trust me. You’re just…letting whatever Jackie said get into your head. You need to shake all those shitty thoughts out. They’re not worth it.”

“There’s no guarantee that you’ll stay.”

“There’s no guarantee I’ll leave either, Shipman.”

Shauna lowers her head. She glances over at you before firmly pressing her hand on top of yours.

“I don’t wanna go home yet,” Shauna states. “Wanna stay with you.”

“We don’t have to go home yet,” you respond. “Thankfully, my parents aren’t feeling that strict tonight. So, I think they’ll be okay with me staying out a little longer.”

“Yeah,” Shauna murmurs and looks out the window.

She daydreams. She dreams of a world where she doesn’t live in Jackie’s shadow. She dreams of a world where she feels confident enough about her appearance to pursue people. She dreams of a time where she’ll feel genuinely wanted. She imagines a world where she’s the only friend you’ll ever need.

But Shauna’s not sure if her ideal world could ever exist. It remains a fantasy, but if only she could obtain at least some parts of it. She’s not expecting a genie to grant her all three wishes. But one good thing happening to her shouldn’t be so out of reach, right? She still had you. And Shauna’s not aware of how close you think you are with her. But for her own sake, she hopes she’s the person you’d cut off an arm and a leg for.

The drive home is mostly silent. Shauna occasionally leans on your shoulder and you allow her to. It’s the least you could do after she had such a rough night. But during the trip, you can’t shake away this pain in your gut, gnawing at you like it’s trying to send a message. Shauna seemed to have calmed down from her earlier explosion. But, something told you that this wouldn’t be the last time she blew up on you, precisely over Jackie.

The next day, Jackie unexpectedly walks up to you during lunch. She takes a seat by you and whispers.

“Hey, do you know when that essay for Mr. Snyder’s class is due by? Someone told me it’s due tomorrow and I’m kinda freaking out.”

“It is,” you answer Jackie’s question. “But we were given like a week to complete it.”

“A week isn’t enough!” Jackie groans. “Ugh, he always grades so harshly too. I heard the highest grade he’s ever given in his class was an 89.”

Okay, that didn’t seem far fetched. You could only score 80s in Mr. Snyder’s class yourself.

“I haven’t even been paying attention for most of the reading,” Jackie admits. “But it’s not my fault the book is so boring. He doesn’t even try to make it exciting. He reads it in the most monotone voice ever!”

“Did you at least start your outline?” You ask.

“We were supposed to do an outline!?” Jackie gasps. “Shit! Oh, I’m so screwed. I’m so screwed. This asshole is gonna kill me.”

“He’s not gonna kill you.” You roll your eyes. “Just cram through it. Stay up all night if you have to. I know it’s not ideal, but I guess it’ll help you learn your lesson.”

What you don’t realize is that Shauna is eyeing the both of you from the corner of the cafeteria. She looks like an angry dog ready to defend its owner from outsiders. Her eye twitches and her nails dig into her palms.

Shauna instantly gathers that her suspicions were correct. After the conversation last night, she didn’t expect you to speak with Jackie less frequently. She expected you to avoid Jackie altogether. Everyone was turning against her. She was losing the people she so desperately clung onto. Nobody was going to want Shauna’s attention. Everyone was gonna leave her. She was gonna be worse off than Misty fucking Quigley.

How could you do this to her? Did your friendship mean nothing? Was Shauna just a placeholder until someone better came along? Was she worthless to you? All of the worst possible thoughts raced through her head. Shuana immediately jumped to the worst case scenario, as per usual.

But she chooses not to confront either of you. She lets you two have your conversation while she watches from afar. Shauna doesn’t know what the conversation is about and she doesn’t want to know. All she senses is betrayal, attachment to another besides her. And that wouldn’t fly. No, she had to do something to ensure you remembered your place. You were hers, and either Jackie was trying to steal you away from her. Or, you were planning on abandoning Shauna.

When lunchtime ends, Shauna ignores Jackie when she passes her. Jackie calls out Shauna’s name, but Shauna pays her no mind. She storms into class, only you on her mind. She’s got no time for frivolous lessons or pop quizzes or difficult homework assignments. Her main problem right now should only be you.

Class couldn’t go by fast enough. Shauna wishes she had this class with you, but unfortunately she only shares this class with Lottie. Shauna just needs this class and the next one to pass. Then, she can corner you alone. She just needs this class to not go by a snail’s pace.

For Shauna’s last period, the teacher keeps her class behind for a few extra minutes. The woman won’t stop yapping and cared more about getting every note from her lesson out than the kids getting home on time. Finally, the teacher allowed the students to leave and Shauna exited class, finding you waiting for her outside of her classroom.

“Hey,” you say. “Why’d you get out so late?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Shauna adjusts her backpack straps.

“Okay. Well, I figured I’d wait for you.”

“Thanks,” Shauna says in a monotone voice.

She still doesn’t believe you value her enough. You waiting for her outside of class didn’t suffice enough as proof. Shauna was right about you. She was always right. Her stubbornness would be her downfall, just as your helpful attitude towards Jackie would be yours.

“Can we talk?” Shauna asks the dreaded question again.

“You know we can always talk,” you respond. “Um, where do you wanna go? Just talk outside here or….”

“We’ll go where I say we should go.” Shauna’s driving the bus. She’s taking the reins. Shauna practically drags you towards the girls bathroom, already struggling to keep her fury bottled up. She knows once that lid pops off, you’re in for some of the worst wrath of your life.

Shauna shuts the door behind you guys once she’s got you inside. She presses you up against the sink’s counter, her hands digging into your waist.

“I fucking knew it,” Shauna snarls. “I fucking knew it all along. You tried to play me for a fucking fool, but I know better.”

“What are you talking about?” You gasp out, trying to swat Shauna’s hands away. “Have you lost it again?”

“Of course you think I’m just some demented bitch,” Shauna hisses. “You’re trying to make me look stupid. Again. I fucking knew you were thinking of replacing me. I should’ve known.”

“Shauna, where is all this coming from?”

“You were fucking talking to Jackie! Don’t you dare try to deny it. I saw you two. Probably gossiping about me, huh? Probably making me look like a fool?”

“S-Shauna,” you stutter. “I-It’s not what it looks like. She was just asking me about an essay that was due tomorrow. That’s all.”

“Bullshit.” Even though you’re being honest as you can be, Shauna still suggests that you’re lying through your teeth. She can’t trust you. She’s too afraid of losing you to trust your motives.

“Why bullshit? Jackie can’t ask me for homework help?” You state defensively.

“Jackie would’ve asked me!” Shauna declares. “I’m the one with straight As, not you. If Jackie was so panicked over a dumb essay, she would’ve came to me. Why the fuck would she ask you about it?”

“M-Maybe cause she thought you were mad at her. I dunno, Shauna. B-But, I’m telling the truth. I swear.”

Shauna shakes you against the bathroom counter. Talking to her is like trying to get through to a brick wall. This whole conversation was fruitless.

“You think you’re better off without me?” Shauna interrogates. “You think Jackie can be a better friend than me?”

“N-No, I…”

“What about that time you stayed over at that classmate’s house because you wanted to hook up with them? And I lied to your parents, saying that you were with me? Remember when I covered for you then? All so you could go fuck somebody like some sort of whore?”

“D-Don’t call me that,” you whimper, Shauna’s face dangerously close to your neck.

“You don’t want me to call you that? When you’ve been whoring yourself out for attention? Jackie’s probably your next victim, isn’t she?”

You’re too stunned to speak. You know Shauna’s had a jealous edge to her. But, this went far beyond any ordinary envy. She wouldn’t let you talk with anyone. You were literally her property and she’d punish you if you didn’t respect that.

“Please leave me alone Shauna,” you beg. “P-Please, can we talk about this later? I-I…I don’t want to do this right now.”

“No.” Shauna says firmly. “Since you want to whore yourself out to people, I’m gonna teach you a lesson. It’s what you deserve for not realizing how good you have it.”

Without warning, Shauna stuffs her hand into your pants. She swirls her fingers around until she finds your cunt and runs her digits along your pussy lips.

“Shauna, what are you doing? Are you nuts? What the fuck?”

“You don’t know how long I’ve been wanting to do this,” she husks. “Since you wanna act like a whore, I’ll let you be one.”

Shauna bites down on your neck like a vampire drunk on the thought of your blood. As she nibbles, her fingers trail over your clit, brushing the nub with the lightness of a feather. It’s still enough to make you jump, though.

“But you will only be a whore for me. Nobody else. Just me.”

“Nobody else,” you repeat timidly. “F-Fuck…”

“Are you already enjoying this?” Shauna smirks. “I knew a whore like you would. You may be a whore, but you’re such a good one for letting me play with you like this.”

Shauna uses her other hand to harshly grasp your chin. She sucks and licks over the bruise she created on your neck, admiring the purple spot as evidence of your claiming.

“You’re not even asking me to leave you alone. It’s cause you like this, isn’t it? It’s only natural for a whore like you to enjoy being touched inappropriately. Bet you were wishing Jackie fucked you with her fingers.”

You shake your head. Shauna’s hand shifts downward and squeezes your throat. With her other hand, she inserts two fingers into your dripping pussy, eager and ready for penetration.

“I expect an answer,” Shauna growls. “You might be a slut, but I want you to be a competent one. So answer me. Now.”

“Y-Yes Shauna,” you answer. Though, you’re not entirely telling the truth. “I-I wish she did.”

“Good girl,” Shauna praises, stretching your hole out and scissoring you with her digits. “Loosen up for me, baby. C’mon.”

“Fuck, trying. Trying. I-I’m trying.”

There was a slight soreness at your core, pain mixed with a hint of pleasure. But, Shauna couldn’t care less about your potential suffering. She’s proving a point and you will be her obedient student, whether she has to use force or not.

“There we go,” Shauna encourages, able to pump her fingers faster as you adjust to the intrusion. You exhale, your heart beating rapidly. You felt your mind slowly melting, your head getting fuzzy with all sorts of lewd thoughts.

You make the mistake of letting out a moan too loud. To combat this, Shauna silences you with a fierce kiss to the lips. She bites down on your bottom lip until it’s close to drawing blood and shoves her tongue deep inside of your mouth.

Her fingers curl inside of you and you hump Shauna’s digits for more friction, most of the pain subsiding. Gasp after gasp erupts from your throat, your eyes almost rolling back from how deep Shauna’s thrusts were hitting you. You grab onto her for support, leaning against the bathroom counter as you let her absolutely use you.

“You like this?” Shauna spits. “Tell me how much you like it, my pretty little whore. Tell me how much you enjoy being used like a sex toy for me.”

“L-Love it,” you pant when she pulls away from your mouth. “Fuck, it’s so intense. Can’t take it. Can barely take it.”

“You will take it though,” Shauna demands. “Because that’s what good sluts do. They take what I give them.”

“Yes Shauna,” you whine, feeling your cunt wrap tightly around her fingers. Your pussy was throbbing as squelching sounds filled the bathroom. Your entire body wobbled and you felt your vision blurring.

“You’re already getting close?” Shauna chuckles. “My god, you’re fucking pathetic. It’s perfect. I want you dumb and pathetic just for me, okay? Not Jackie. Not Jeff. Not any of the other girls on my soccer team.”

“Just you,” you reply obediently. “J-Just you. Fuck, fuck. Shauna, I’m gonna…I’m gonna…”

“What the fuck are you waiting for, you pretty slut?” Shauna barks. “Cum on my fingers, you filthy girl. Show me how good it feels to give up your innocence for me. Show me that I’m the only one you deserve, the only one you’ll ever need.”

“Fuck!” You cry out, probably loud enough for people outside of the restroom to hear. You coat Shauna’s fingers with your juices as her fingers milk you dry. You don’t even bother biting back your moans or chewing on her shoulder to suppress her noises of desire. You’re lost, in a whole other world where only you and Shauna exist.

Once you’ve ridden out your high, Shauna withdraws her fingers and presses them to your lips. You know exactly what to do. With an opening of your mouth and a flick of the tongue, you clean off Shauna’s digits and embrace the taste of your own fluids.

“You’ll never get rid of me,” Shauna promises, leaning in close to press a kiss to your forehead. It’s a sign of tenderness after the storm, the restoration of tranquility after you’ve been marked as her own pet. She doesn’t need to go hard on you anymore, at least for right now.

“Didn’t plan on it,” you say meekly, still processing your friend’s deeds.

“I know.” Shauna smiles confidently. “There’ll never be another girl like me out there for you.”

Ain’t that the truth.

#shauna shipman #shauna sadecki #shauna yellowjackets #shauna shipman smut #shauna shipman x you #shauna shipman x reader #yellowjackets smut #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you #yellowjackets fanfic #yellowjackets fanfiction #smut

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keepingitformyself · 1 month ago

Text

good men die too (so i’d rather be with you)

A/N: first natalie fic. needed to get this off my chest. crush by ethel cain on repeat as i wrote this.

SYNOPSIS: natalie scatorccio isn’t the kind of girl you bring home to your parents. and she’s not the kind of girl you’d think to spend forever with. she’s reckless, dangerous, and rough. but that doesn’t stop you from wanting her all the same.

pairings: natalie scatorccio x reader

genre: no crash AU

warnings: suggestive themes, blood, bruises

MASTERLIST

please do not repost my work anywhere for any reason at all. if you do see this happen to any of my stories, please let me know. thank you x.

it’s no surprise to anyone when natalie scatorccio comes strolling into soccer practice twenty minutes late. long after coach martinez has just finished a speech on the importance of time management.

her leather jacket slung over her jersey clad body gives you just the faintest scent of marlboro reds clinging to her clothes. she wears a smirk as she approaches the rest of the girls on the field.

coach martinez merely rolls his eyes at her presence. he decides to barely batt an eye anymore. what was the point? natalie was good. maybe not the best, but good enough to get away with her shit.

you weren’t really close to her like the others were. not like misty, who hung on her every word, or shauna, who tried (and failed) to keep her in check. you weren’t even like lottie, who seemed to understand her in a way that made no sense. no, you and natalie were something different.

you didn’t talk much, but when you did, it was charged. every snarky comment or off-hand joke felt like it was said to imply something neither of you wanted to admit. like a game neither of you were willing to lose.

the first time you really noticed it was after a game. the team was celebrating a win at some rundown diner. cramming into booths that barely fit you all. natalie sat across from you, her fingers wrapped around a coke bottle, condensation dripping from the glass.

her eyes met yours, and she smirked like she knew something you didn’t.

“you’re staring.” she drawled, bringing the bottle to her lips.

“you wish.”

she laughed, low and throaty, before leaning in. “i know.”

that was how it always went. a flicker of something in a hallway, a touch too long passing water bottles at practice, her voice too close to your ear when she made some off-hand comment that sent heat pooling in your stomach. and every time, you refused to acknowledge it.

because natalie scatorccio was trouble. and you didn’t do trouble.

but damn if you weren’t drawn to her anyway.

it was easier to act like she didn’t get under your skin. to roll your eyes, to scoff, to push her buttons just to see if she’d push back. you’d rather drive her crazy, make her hate you, than admit what you actually wanted. becuase if you admitted it, it would be real. and real meant dangerous.

real meant natalie had the power to ruin you.

so you kept playing the game. kept up the act. and natalie…she played right into it.

even with the others around, you found ways to test the limits.

at parties, when she was sprawled on a couch with some guy draping an arm over her shoulder, you’d pass by and let your fingers brush against hers for half a second too long. just long enough to make her glance up at you through her lashes, lips quirking like she knew exactly what you were doing.

in the locker room, when the team was too busy talking about the next game, you’d let your knee knock into hers while tying your sneakers. she never moved away.

one night, the team had gathered at jackie’s house for a movie night, a tangled mess of limbs and blankets on the floor.

you ended up beside natalie, bodies pressed together in the dark. her hand rested on her stomach, dangerously close to yours.

you could feel the warmth radiating from her skin, but neither of you moved. not when she exhaled slowly, not when her pinky brushed yours so lightly it could’ve been an accident. you weren’t sure if you imagined it, but you swore you felt her shift just a little closer.

then there was the time in the school hallway. the team was heading to the cafeteria together, but natalie had stopped by her locker. you weren’t supposed to wait for her, weren’t supposed to lean against the metal beside her as she rummaged through her bag, weren’t supposed to mutter,

“hurry up, scatorccio,” in a tone only she would catch. she smirked at you then, slow and knowing, before tucking a pack of cigarettes into her jacket.

“gotta problem with me taking my time?” she murmured, just quiet enough that no one else heard.

you scoffed. “i’ve got a problem with you wasting mine.”

she grinned. “right.”

one friday night, after practice, you found her in the parking lot, perched on the hood of her dad’s beat-up mercury, cigarette balanced between her fingers. the night was cool, and the parking lot was empty save for the two of you.

“you need a ride?” she asked, eyes flicking up to meet yours.

“i’m good.”

“you sure? wouldn’t want you walking home all alone. bad things happen to good girls.”

“i never said i was good.”

her smirk widened, something dark flashing behind her eyes. “no, i guess you didn’t.”

you should’ve walked away. should’ve ignored the way her gaze lingered, how the glow of her cigarette lit up her face in a way that made your breath hitch. but instead, you stepped closer. just a fraction. just enough.

natalie tapped her cigarette, ashes scattering to the pavement. “you ever gonna admit you want me?”

you scoffed, crossing your arms. “your window’s already passed.”

she laughed, full and unbothered. “bullshit.”

you didn’t answer. you didn’t need to. she could read your mind just fine.

and that pissed you off.

because you hated it. the way she could see right through you. the way she knew you wanted her even when you wouldn’t admit it to yourself.

it made you want to punch her, just to get rid of the feeling clawing up your throat. you wanted to see her lip split open, watch her wipe the blood away with that smug little smirk because then at least you wouldn’t have to think about how badly you wanted to kiss her instead.

then, one night, she cornered you outside a party, the bass from inside thrumming through your ribs. her lip was split, a bruise already blooming high on her cheekbone, and she looked at you like she had all the answers.

“i owe you a black eye and two kisses,” she murmured, voice laced with amusement. “tell me when you wanna come get ‘em.”

your stomach tightened, heat crawling up your spine. natalie licked at the blood on her lip, watching you like she was waiting for you to call her bluff.

but this time, you didn’t want to call it.

you swallowed hard, fists clenching at your sides. “you don’t know what you’re asking for.”

natalie tilted her head, stepping into your space, forcing you to meet her gaze. “i know exactly what I’m asking for. and so do you.”

the words settled between you, heavy and inescapable. you wanted to fight her. you wanted to push her away. but more than that, you wanted her to keep going. to ruin you the way you knew only she could.

“say it,” she pressed, voice low, eyes dark. “say you want me.”

your breath hitched. “i—”

“i want you,” she said first, cutting you off. the game, finally over.

and just like that, the bottom dropped out from under you.

you would’ve walked away. but every inch of your body screamed for you to stay. you could feel the weight of her presence as if she was a magnet, pulling you closer, her eyes locked on you like she was reading your every thought.

“i’m not the type of girl who plays by the rules,” she said quietly, voice dripping with something between challenge and promise.

“and i'm not the type who gets caught up in trouble,” you shot back, but it sounded like a lie. you both knew it.

her lips curled into a knowing smile, eyes glinting with mischief. “yeah? that’s funny, because every time i look at you, you seem like you're trying to talk yourself out of something.”

you crossed your arms, shifting your weight to one foot, trying to steady your pulse, but her words hit you harder than you expected. you could feel her eyes on you, following every move, reading the way your body tightened when she came closer.

“trying to act all tough, but you’re standing here, aren't you?” she continued, her tone light but pointed. “guess that makes you just as bad as me.”

your heart skipped, the sting of her words digging into you. “don’t flatter yourself. i’m not playing your game.”

she took a step forward, and you couldn’t help but move back a fraction, but only because you didn’t want her to see how badly she was getting to you. “you’re already in it,” she said, voice dropping lower. "you think i don’t notice the way you look at me?"

your breath hitched, and you scoffed, doing everything you could to keep the distance. "i don't look at you."

natalie cocked her head, eyes narrowing in playful challenge. “really? ‘cause i could’ve sworn i saw you staring when i walked into practice today. or maybe it was when i grabbed that water bottle from you after the scrimage. funny how you can't keep your eyes off me, huh?”

you swallowed, fighting the flush rising in your chest. “you’re imagining things.”

“i’m not,” she said, voice dripping with confidence as she moved even closer. her scent, a mix of smoke and something sharp, intoxicating, wrapped around you. "i know you want to fight it. but you’re not fooling anyone. least of all me.”

“i’m not some fucking game,” you muttered, voice sharp, but shaky. you couldn’t keep the edge from your tone, couldn’t keep the uncertainty out of your voice.

“you’re already in it,” she repeated, her tone quiet but unwavering. “so why don’t you stop pretending? stop pretending you’re not already caught up in me. you don’t get to walk away anymore.”

her voice was so close now, you could feel the heat from her breath brushing against your skin, and every nerve in your body screamed for you to back away, but your feet stayed rooted. your heart thudded, each beat pulling you closer to her than you wanted to be.

“i’m not some... i’m not the type of girl who...” you started, but your words were getting tangled in the mess of thoughts she was creating in your head. you were losing control, and the worst part? you didn’t want it back.

“not the type of girl who what?” she murmured, leaning in just enough to make you feel every word. “who gets what she wants?”

you opened your mouth to say something, anything, but you couldn’t. the words were gone, smothered by the feeling of her closeness, the way she was looking at you, waiting for you to break.

“you’re just a little scared,” she whispered, a teasing lilt in her voice. “scared of what’s underneath all this. scared of what’ll happen if you let yourself want it.”

Your pulse spiked. “stop it.”

“no,” she said, her smile widening. “you start it.”

you could feel the air around you both thickening, charged, and the space between you two felt like it was closing in, getting tighter, until you could barely breathe.

you could taste the words you weren’t saying, hanging in the air, unbearable. and in that moment, you hated her, hated how she could do this to you—make you feel like this.

but you couldn’t pull away. you couldn’t fight it.

and she knew it.

“tell me,” she pressed, voice low, dangerous. “what do you want, huh?”

it wasn’t a question anymore. it was a command. and in the space between, you realized she wasn’t asking for an answer.

she already had the one she wanted.

#natalie scatorccio x reader #natalie scatorccio #yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader

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