nini 💋 @chillinini - Tumblr Blog

F! Reader x Beau Maxwell : reader is a sorority girl that is associated with Beau’s frat and they are pushed together to plan en event/fundraiser for their frat & sorority! I think like Noah and Elle from the kissing booth

keeping up with the fundraising - beau maxwell x reader

author’s note: OKAY BEAR WITH ME!!! i’m too european for this, but i tried my best! i had so much fun writing this, THANK YOU!!! 🩷 also, i haven’t seen the kissing booth, please don’t kill me if i got something wrong 🫩 fluff<333

"Hey everyone, thank you so much for coming out on such short notice! As you all know, for this year’s annual fundraiser, we’re officially teaming up with the fraternity house. We already agreed during the first round of voting that we’re raising money for the local dog shelters this year—which is amazing! But obviously, we can’t pull this off without both of our event planning committees working together. So, please give a huge welcome to Y/N Y/L and Beau Maxwell, who are going to be leading the charge and making this the best fundraiser yet. Let's do it for the pups! Thank you!"

Oh hell no.

As everyone packs into the makeshift auditorium of the crowded sorority house—or more prestigeously known as Kappa Alpha Theta—girls and guys alike cheering and clapping both you and Beau on the back, you can only think about how cruel fate can be.

Because sure, it’s a pretty noble thing that Beau, the big star quarterback, honors his own fraternity with his presence and actively takes part in these fundraisers. Yet, there’s still that crushing reality that he has absolutely nothing on his mind but getting laid.

He’s arrogant, egotistical, and fully aware of his physical assets—all of which he enthusiastically exploits.

More than once, you’ve caught one of your sorority sisters shoving her tongue down his throat at a party, or sneaking out of some girl’s room in the dead of night, shoes tucked under her arm.

It should be outlawed, but nobody says no to Beau for a very simple reason—he’s sweet.

And funny.

Which is dangerous, because you blink twice and the laughter instantly turns into moaning.

From hahaha to ahaha.

And as his eyes lock onto yours from across the room, his lips curving into a cheeky, knowing smirk, you just know you’re going to have a terribly hard time resisting him.

—

“My place or yours?” Beau asks later that same evening, right after it turned out you two have to work together.

“Neither,” you say, shaking your head. “We’re meeting at Dellas.”

“Ah, a diplomatic meeting,” he snorts, walking casually beside you toward the exit of the house as you and the girls see the guys out like good hosts.

“Not really your territory, is it?”

“I prefer comfortable places. You know, where you can lie down,” he leans in closer to whisper in your ear, giving you goosebumps despite yourself.

He has a deep, raspy voice—the kind that makes most girls melt right on the spot.

“Now, listen here,” you turn to face him, jabbing your index finger into his chest. “There is not going to be any lying down or hooking up. I don’t care what you’re used to, and honestly, your little attempt here is just pathetic. We’re talking about three weeks that we have to push through together for a good cause, and after that, we forget each other. Please, take this seriously so we can actually get somewhere.”

“Are you always this tense?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I am not tense,” you protest, crossing your arms and tilting your chin up.

“Sure you are. The veins are practically popping on your forehead. Look, I know I’m handsome, but you don’t have to hold yourself back this much,” he winks.

“You’re more like terrifyingly conceited,” you roll your eyes as you continue your way to the front door.

“I like that you’ve got bite. Personally, I love a biter.”

“Oh my god, shut up already! I’ll be waiting for you at Dellas tomorrow at five in the afternoon,” you pick up your pace, already wishing for those three weeks to be over.

“I have practice.”

“No, you don’t.”

“So now you’re stalking me too? A pretty weird way to show your interest, but hey, I’m not complaining.”

“No, you idiot. Michelle sent over your schedule, just like you received mine, so we’d know when we can work together. So, I will be waiting for you tomorrow at five. And don’t be late!”

“Yes, ma'am,” he salutes with a wink.

You shut the front door with a little too much force.

—

“Grace, this is going to be pure torture,” you vent to your friend the next day as you both head to class.

You and Grace met earlier this year thanks to a group project, and after realizing you had way more in common than you initially thought, it was a no-brainer that you’d stay close.

The girl giggles beside you. “You haven’t even started working together yet. How do you know it’s going to be torture?”

“Do you even know who we’re talking about?” you ask rhetorically. “You can do a lot of things with that guy, but working together is not one of them.”

“A lot of things, huh?” she wiggles her eyebrows mischievously.

You give her shoulder a playful shove. “You know what I mean.”

“I know, I know. Look, you don’t actually know Beau that well. We all know his reputation—I mean, him and Dean Di Laurentis are Briar’s ultimate resident players,” you laugh out loud at this, “but he’s famous for his talent for a reason. And I don’t mean his talent in bed!”

“And here I was, just about to start my rant…” you sigh with resignation.

“What I’m trying to say is that Beau Maxwell is a smart guy. He’s driven, and let’s face it, he’s absolutely loaded—he could just fund the whole charity drive out of his own pocket,” Grace notes casually.

“No, I don’t want this to just be handled by a check signed by him. The point of this whole thing isn’t to see who’s the richest, but who has the strongest morals.”

“He’s going to offer it anyway,” she throws it out there.

“I know, but I’m not going to let him.”

“Look,” Grace says, turning to you. The campus is buzzing with students—some rushing to class, others strolling casually while sipping coffee, and cliques lounging and laughing under the shade of the thick treetops. “I love that you take your responsibilities so seriously, and I know you’re going to organize the best fundraiser this school has ever seen. But you have to give Beau a chance to open up—not like that,” she clarifies quickly, catching the rise of your eyebrow, “and just accept that you have to work with him. He’s going to drive you crazy, because he’s Beau Maxwell, but you both have the same goal—to create something that matters.”

PHASE ONE - Do NOT kill Beau

Dellas is starting to fill up, but it’s not so rowdy yet that you can’t hear each other speak. The worn-out leather booth creaks under you every time you shift, and the table legs, though sturdy, have grown quite battered over the years. You’ve set your laptop on the table, displaying a document packed with the primary tasks that need to be discussed.

First off all, you need to clarify your goals based on the budgets of both houses—you received an email about this earlier from Vivi, the sorority treasurer—outlining what’s doable and what’s an absolute no-go.

Secondly, delegating tasks and clearing up who will be doing what. Listed next to this point are social media, decorations, the venue, sponsors, and the mandatory participation of the other members from both Greek houses—how to schedule them, and how to incentivize them to actually do their jobs well.

You didn't want to make a huge deal out of this first meeting, since you’ll have to sit down at least once more this week to hash out the details, not to mention staying in constant communication outside of these meetups.

This is what you dread the most beforehand, as you are absolutely positive that Beau will exploit the fact that he now has your number.

Your head is already hurting, and this whole circus hasn't even started yet.

Then again, maybe it won't even start today, because Beau is already fifteen minutes late.

By five twenty five, a plate of freshly grilled chicken breast, fries, and a side salad is already waiting for you.

By five forty two, you’ve already decided which tasks you’re going to tackle, right after calling Vivi to send over your ideas and see what’s actually doable within budget. You’ve taken charge of both the decorations and organizing the venue.

You’ve also started brainstorming how to schedule the Greek members for the upcoming duties, putting it together in bullet points, though it hasn't been finalized yet since that will happen during the next meeting.

You can't do any more than this because you actually need Beau, but he hasn't even graced you with a single text. So, at seven thirty, with a full stomach but a pulsing migraine throbbing behind your eyes, you walk out through the entrance of Dellas.

—

Beau Maxwell: so when am i supposed to be at Dellas again?

You: how about yesterday at five pm?

Beau Maxwell: shit.

—

PHASE TWO - Try NOT to kill Beau

“You could have texted.”

“I could have.”

“Then?”

“You know, I dared to hope that a piece of important information would at least make it to your brain, and you'd actually manage to remember it. Should I send you a glittery postcard next time saying 'with love, looking forward to seeing you at our next meeting'?”

“Aww, if you're really looking forward to seeing me with love, I'll be there without a single complaint.”

“Beau, you have to come anyway. This is your job too.”

“Chill, I got it. I'm sorry I forgot. I promise it won't happen again.”

It slightly surprises you how easily he admits his mistake, instead of trying to convince you that you really should have messaged him.

Because it’s true, you really could have written to him, but you wouldn’t have thought that what you asked of him would vanish from his mind in a single second. It begs the question: just how reliable is Beau anyway?

With a deep sigh, you lift your gaze to him, only to find to your surprise that he hasn’t looked away for even a fraction of a second—he’s been staring right at you. Yet, the expression he is scanning you with is completely unreadable.

“What?” You furrow your brow, feeling a slight blush creep up your face.

“Nothing,” he clears his throat, as if he, too, realized just how awkward those few moments of silent pause had become.

Not thinking much of it, you inform him of what you have come up with on your own.

Beau didn’t come unprepared – he had all the important documents with him, so you could compare notes on how to bring your plans to life.

Just like you, he also forwarded the budget to the Tappa-Rigga-Beer - fitting - treasurer.

Without a single word, Beau took on social media and sponsorships as his assigned task.

You could’ve almost said that things might actually turn out well. You were this close to finding Beau competent for the job, because he had some insanely good ideas on how to get your fellow Greek life members involved in the mandatory fundraising chores.

First off, you both agreed that the typical Dunk Tank—dropping the presidents of the two Greek houses into a barrel of water—was totally out of the question and basic. Instead, you pitched the idea of having a Midnight Munchies spot, since the parties went on until dawn, which would serve typically easy-to-make drunk food between midnight and 3 AM.

“Oh my god, you’re so smart! That’s gonna be a straight up goldmine,” Beau praised you, rubbing his palms together.

“Attendance will be mandatory for the members of both houses,” you started. “We have a meeting tomorrow. I think it’d be a good idea if there’s always a guy and a girl selling food at every party leading up to the fundraiser.”

“Isn’t it gonna be a bit selfish that others are partying while they’re working?”

“I don’t think so, since these food stands have to be right at the party area, so they can easily join in on the fun. I’ll make sure to show up at the parties and handle the cash if things happen to get out of hand.”

“How generous,” Beau smirked. Then he turned serious. “I think a companion point system would be a killer idea too. The guys are super competitive, but I bet there are a few girls driven by that competitiveness as well. If we keep track of the weekly pairings in an Excel sheet, along with how many tickets they sell for the fundraiser or how many hot dogs they make, whoever wins could get a pass on house chores.”

“Beau, I’m impressed. You actually have a brain.”

“Ouch,” he laughed, clutching his heart and faking how much your dig hurt.

“Wait. Did you say Excel sheet?”

“Yeah,” he rubbed his neck nervously, a faint pink hue creeping up his cheeks. “I’m kinda a sucker for Excel. I keep my weekly workouts there, as well PR’s.”

You can’t help, but laugh out loud. “Jesus, you’re such a guy.”

But you don’t know which fact surprised you the most - that Beau has an Excel fetish, or that he really blushed. Anyway.

After that, it was like the guy pulled a complete 180.

“Hey, Beau!” greeted a girl blessed with a super high-pitched voice—honestly, she practically chirped like a bird. Stepping up to the table, she leaned her hip against it, standing across from Beau with her back to you.

Hah!

Twirling her blonde hair around her finger, she blinked down at Beau.

“Hey, gorgeous!” Beau leaned back in his seat, interlacing his fingers over his stomach and giving her a wink.

“I missed you last night,” she pouted. “You could have at least texted, I was so lonely,” her suggestive voice meant one thing: she had to use her own fingers and the thought of him to get her off.

Boo-hoo.

Beau, completely clueless, keeps feeding into it. “My bad, kitten. Next time I’ll make sure to never leave you alone.”

The girl, as if she had been waiting for this exact answer, lets out an excited moan.

A moan!

Gross - you thought.

“What are your plans for tonight?” she continued to ignore you, leaning closer to Beau, grazing his arm with a long, manicured finger.

“You tell me,” Beau smirked, his voice gravelly low.

You couldn’t help but think - is this his seductive voice? That’s how he lures girls into his webs?

Making zero effort to hide your disgust, you roll your eyes and start packing up your stuff without warning.

“I don’t have time for this,” you mutter under your breath, absolutely fuming.

Outside, you’re hurriedly walking away from the whole place—from the whole damn situation. You want to throw a straight up tantrum on the ground for actually believing you could have a decent, productive meeting with Beau. For thinking you could finally make some progress so everything would run smoothly for the next house meeting.

“Wait!” a shout rings out behind you, making you pick up your pace even more.

Why can’t the fucking sorority house be any closer?

“Wait, please,” Beau’s tone shifts to pleading as he catches up and grabs your wrist, spinning you around to face him.

His hand is massive and warm, and you can practically feel your own rapid pulse racing under his fingers wrapped around your wrist.

You yank your hand out of his and take a step back, putting as much distance between the two of you as possible.

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be,” you cross your arms over your chest.

“I thought we were done,” he shrugs.

“And that’s an excuse to turn your back on me and start flirting so disgustingly?” you laugh, the sound wrong.

“No.”

“Look at that, you do know how to use your brain,” you roll your eyes, voice sarcastic.

“Why are you so angry with me every chance you get?” Beau asks, throwing his hands up, frustrated.

“I don't know, Beau, maybe because you’re pretty fucking unreliable?”

“I told you I was sorry!”

“Yeah, well, I don’t give a shit about your sorry!” you yell, completely losing your self control. “If you can’t cooperate, why the fuck are you the head of community organizing for a fraternity? Why are you trying to act like you're so dedicated? You’re not being helpful at all. We should’ve held the big meeting with the others ages ago. Michelle is constantly bombarding me with texts, asking what the fuck we’re doing, why the meeting has to be pushed back again, especially when the fundraiser is right around the corner. Beau, do you even realize that this is serious, and it’s not just about partying?”

He doesn't say a word, just watches you with those big brown eyes, but just like before, you can't read his face to save your life.

Not that you care anyway. If he doesn't get it by now, why even bother trying to make him understand?

You let out a heavy sigh. “Whatever. Just… do your job. I don’t care,” and turning your back on Beau, you walk away.

—-

PHASE THREE - Get confused

One week later, and after numerous debates over who’s going to take the parties with who, the first round starts tonight.

But with Beau, you cut communication down to the absolute fucking minimum. The only shit you allowed him to talk about was the fundraiser, and even then, you basically hit him with one word replies.

You were straight up mastering the art of treating Beau like goddamn air right up until tonight, but when he dropped the news that he’d be working shifts with you, your shoulders sagged a little.

“At least he’s not a total dickhead,” Vivi, the sorority treasurer, had said a few days back at the meeting.

The frat house is straight out of a movie. Huge living room with the couches pushed against the walls to clear out a dance floor in the middle, and a beer pong table set up not far from the kitchen. The place is packed to the fucking rafters. Everyone’s clutching solo cups filled with sketchy ass drinks; girls are running around in miniskirts and tiny tops, while the guys are prowling with thirsty eyes, hunting for their daily laid.

Then there's you, keeping it lowkey—just basic jeans and a tight tank top, hair down, letting the late night spring breeze barely catch it. Out on the patio, you guys set up the little stand where Trinity and Sam are selling midnight drunk food to save some wasted stomachs tonight.

“Here comes the star of the show,” Dean said, stepping out with Allie on his arm, who flashed you a massive grin the second she locked eyes with you.

“Oh my god, can I please get a hot dog? I just puked my guts out and my stomach is literally hollow,” she whined, throwing you puppy-dog eyes, but Trinity was already on it, prepping her food.

“Are you okay?” you asked, brow furrowing as you worriedly scanned the girl, who was currently slumping into Dean’s arm like a total ragdoll. “Do you want to sit down?”

“No, I’m good, seriously! I just didn’t eat shit before I got here, so now I’m paying the price,” she grimaced.

“I told you that you could’ve just come later, Allie cat,” Dean said, kissing the top of her head.

“But I haven’t seen you in forever, and I was so hyped that Y/N was actually gonna be here, since she never goes out to parties,” Allie pouted, making your eyes snap to her in surprise.

“I don’t think I’m that much of an attraction that it’s worth rushing over for,” you laughed, feeling a bit self-conscious.

“Oh girl, there are plenty of eyes on you tonight,” Allie nudged you, raising her eyebrows mischievously. “Including a certain Mr. Beau Maxwell.”

“More like Mr. Asshole,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. “And nobody is staring at me.”

“Just take a look through that window,” Dean gestured with his chin behind him. “I think you’re about to find out you’re living in straight-up denial.”

You didn’t want to. You really didn’t. But curiosity got the best of you, so you looked.

And there, somewhere in the middle of the crowded room, was Beau. He casually raised his plastic cup—filled with cider, since the two of you were strictly banned from drinking tonight—smirked, and gave you a little nod.

It’d be a flatout lie to deny how fucking hot Beau is. You know it, you're a girl with working parts, and you totally get why the vast majority of girls describe him as a literal pantydropper. But despite all that, there’s that nagging doubt in the back of your mind that you’d just be another notch on his list of girls.

That’s exactly why you don’t let him get close, and why you don’t try to get close to him either. Why any talk between you two has to be strictly business, nothing more.

But seeing him stand there in his jeans and a gray t-shirt that hugs his broad chest and highlights his bulging biceps, watching you with that lowkey, humble looking smirk... something inside you cracks, making you wonder if maybe you're being way too harsh on him.

With a heavy sigh, you rip your eyes away from him and turn back to Dean and Allie.

“You guys want anything else?” you asked, shutting the topic down.

“My guy!” Sam shouts excitedly from behind the bar. “Can you cover for me for a sec? I’m about to piss myself.”

Beau chuckles and pats him on the back as the guy is already dashing inside the house. Trinity flutters her eyelashes as she says hi to him, but Beau just gives her a quick nod and turns to you instead.

“I’m here to take over,” he says.

“Okay,” you shrug, stifling a yawn.

Beau looks at you, dumbfounded. “Oh, come on! It’s not that boring!”

“You guys are the boring ones. I’m literally tired of counting how many guys came up to me with the exact same line,” you sigh, rolling your eyes, then dropping your voice to mock them, “Hey babe, wanna show me where the bathroom is? I have no idea where it's at.”

Beau winces, looking a bit tense as he listens. “Did they seriously say that?”

“Well, I’m not as creative as an alpha male looking to get laid,” you shrug.

You don’t even notice Beau watching you intently, as if scanning your face for any sign that maybe, just maybe, you actually fell for one of his frat bros' lame pickup lines.

Almost as if he’s jealous.

“Thanks, bro!” Sam says, coming back and clapping Beau on the back. “How much longer do we have to be here? I was just flirting with this absolute babe, I don’t want Jason to snatch her from right under me,” he pouts pathetically.

“One more hour. You can handle it,” Beau tells Sam, shoving him back behind the bar. “As for you—go party!” he says, pointing at you and nudging you away from the counter.

“I’ll pass.”

“You don’t like partying?”

“I do. I’m just not in the mood,” you say, grabbing your bag, which you had carefully hidden under the counter. “I counted up the cash we made so far and wrote it down in this notebook.”

“I’ll walk you home,” Beau says out of nowhere.

You look up at him, caught off guard. “What? No!”

“You’re gonna walk back alone.”

“So? Campus is literally three steps away. I can run home in two minutes flat.”

“Are you sure you—”

“Beau,” you cut him off, “they need you here. Do your job.”

It’s only after you step out of the house that you notice a text from him that came in two hours ago.

Beau Maxwell: You look really pretty.

—-

PHASE FOUR - Trust him

The big fundraiser is next week. The midnight hot dog sale ended up being a massive success, with the student donations almost doubling what you’ve raised in previous years.

“We’re that good, huh?” Beau whispered in your ear back at the meeting, earning an earnest smile from you.

“I like your smile.”

“Shut up.”

“Bite me,” he smirks with mischief.

Right now, under direct orders from Michelle, you’re spending your night at Malones with your friends for some much needed downtime.

“You made it through!” Grace pats your arm with a huge grin.

“I swear I got at least fifty new gray hairs from it,” you laugh.

“Well, at least you can chalk it up as another win,” Allie smiles.

Your phone buzzes.

Beau: celebrating without me?

You: cry in a corner.

Beau: i’ll be crying with a smile.

“Who are you texting?” Hannah asks, craning her neck.

“No one,” you say, slipping your phone into your pocket.

“Does that no one happen to rhyme with Beau?” Grace nudges you, smirking.

“Oh my god, are you talking to Beau?” Allie’s jaw drops. “Dean was right. Dammit, I owe him twenty bucks.”

“Wait, what?” you frown, totally confused.

“Dean and I bet that some kind of connection would definitely spark between you two during the fundraiser. Dean bet that Beau would make his move while it was still going on, and I bet that you guys wouldn't start getting close until after.”

“You’ve definitely been smiling way more,” Grace nods in agreement.

“And I've been seeing you with Beau off campus way more often, too,” Hannah chimes in.

“Okay, shut up, all of you!” you snap. “First of all, we’re talking about Beau. Of course he made a move during the fundraiser,” you roll your eyes. “Second of all, I’m smiling because I can’t wait for this whole circus to be over so I can finally get rid of him.”

“And what’s your excuse for hanging out so much outside of school?” Allie asks with an innocent look.

“The fact that I can’t shake him off. He clings to me like a leech.”

“Ouch.”

You froze.

“Oh, hi Beau!” Allie grins at him.

“Hi, Beau!” Grace and Hannah chime in right on cue.

“Hi,” you mumble, looking down at the table.

“Can I steal her for a second?” Beau asks, glancing around with an easy smile on his face.

“By all means! We were just about to leave anyway,” Hannah winks. Within seconds, the three of them pack up their things, blow you a kiss with a knowing smirk, and leave you completely alone with him.

Such great friends.

Beau chuckles, sliding into the booth right next to you. “Hi, pretty.”

“What do you want?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest.

“To celebrate.”

“Why aren’t you celebrating with the guys?”

“I didn't organize the fundraiser with them, now, am I?” he says, casually throwing his arm over the back of the booth behind your shoulders.

The scent of his cologne hits you—that, and something uniquely him. If you’re being completely honest with yourself, he looks incredibly good.

He’s wearing a long-sleeve shirt that perfectly hugs every single muscle on his upper body. A pair of simple jeans sits loosely on his lean hips, framing his thick, muscular legs. His brown hair looks messy, like he just ran his fingers through it. Effortless and ridiculously handsome.

“What do you want from me?” the question slips out of you, raw and honest.

Beau seems to hesitate for a split second, even though the answer is clearly on the tip of his tongue. “I want to get to know you better.”

“Why?” you ask, highly skeptical.

“Because you’re amazing. You and that brain of yours—brilliant.”

“But Beau, all of this is going to end the second the fundraiser is over,” you try to reason with him.

“Sweetheart, it hasn’t even started yet, because you won’t let me get close to you.”

“Because I don’t trust you.”

“I want to prove to you that you can.”

“Why?” You feel like a broken record, repeating the exact same word.

“Because I’ve actually enjoyed spending time with you, even when it was strictly about work. I want you to know that I’m not the guy you’ve made me out to be in your head. I want to prove to you that I’m worthy of you.”

“But I’m always going to push you away.”

“And I’ll just keep coming back.”

“I’ll insult you.”

“You’ll probably be right, too.”

“I don’t even like football.”

“I’ll survive.”

“I’ll probably punch you before I hug you.”

“I’ll take it.”

“You’ll forget me.”

“I dream of you all the time. Could never forget you.”

“Maybe.”

“So, is that a yes?”

“Maybe!”

“I’m taking that as a yes.”

You stare at him, your heart hammering against your ribs so hard you’re convinced he can hear it over the bar’s background noise. His arm is still draped behind you, radiating a warmth that is becoming increasingly hard to ignore.

God, why does he have to do this?

It would be so much easier if he were just the brainless, arrogant jock you’d painted him to be, and yet here he is, systematically tearing it down with nothing but a soft gaze and an incredibly frustrating amount of persistence.

“I’m taking that as a yes.”

His words echo in your head, and instead of the panic you expect to feel, there’s this tiny, terrifying spark of excitement.

You look at his stupidly perfect face, his eyes searching yours with a sincerity that actually makes your breath catch. You hate how much you want to believe him. You hate that you’re tired of pushing him away, and most of all, you hate that the idea of him actually coming back every time you push makes you feel... safe.

You bite your lip to keep you from smiling, but fail horribly. Maybe it’s time to live a little.

————————————————————————

taglist: @shadowdaddiesclub @scott-mccall-could-lift-mjolnir @hollisterellza @chrismattnick @miupods @lu-thinkingstuff @ongangstashitt @amandaaa1025 @reepicheeps-blog @parker-barnes-af @moonywify @zoereyna @spookypersondinosaur @myhipsterparadise-blog1

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

nini 💋