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callmecallmecrazy · 4 years ago

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Preppy 1

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Warning! This is not my usual fare. Back in college I got very into preppy clothing and wrote a few short stories that I never shared anywhere. Figure I might as well post them for posterity. Enjoy this 2007/8 flashback!

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Two athletic men hauled Shawn into a dark room with a gurney table, and strapped his arms and legs down.

"What the fuck?" Shawn shouted, his shaggy hair covering his eyes. His muscular body struggled uselessly against the leather restraints holding down his body. "Who the hell are you fuckers?"

This caused the two men to stop suddenly.

"My goodness, how rude of me," one spoke. He was a tall man. He was wearing Sahara Sperry topsiders, pleated khakis, and a hunter green sweater. Peaking out from under the sweater was a blue and yellow striped oxford shirt. The collar was buttoned tightly around his neck, which was adorned with a simple yellow tie. His hair was cut in a short buzzcut.

He offered his hand out in the gesture of greeting and smiled at the man he had strapped down. "My name is Cody Bellford, please call me Skip. And this," he said as he pulled the other man towards him in a sort of man hug, "is Ace." The shorter man smiled. He too was dressed in pleated khakis, but was wearing a light blue polo with a popped collar. His hair was longer than Skip's, cut into a crisp flattop. Both men had athletic, strong bodies that were highlighted by their attire, but still looking very dressy.

"What the hell is going on?" Shawn screamed.

"Ugh, so barbaric," Ace sighed.

"Don't worry, we'll get you cleaned up."

"Cleaned up?" Shawn asked.

"Yes," Skip began to explain. "Cleaned up. Groomed. Presentable. Your appearance and mouth reflect poorly on yourself and the school. Wouldn't you be happier if you were groomed and proper?"

"Fuck you!" Shawn retorted. The two preppy men just smiled to each other and began their work.

Ace walked up to Shawn's chest and proceeded to rip the oversized t-shirt off his chest, exposing Shawn's voluptuous pecs covered in fur. At the same time, Skip had proceeded to cut the sweat pants off of Shawn's legs. In few more simple motions, Shawn was lying nearly naked on the table, only his privates covered by a pair of striped boxers. His strong legs were lurching against the confines of the straps, and the veins in his arms and neck were bulging from his constant resistance. Shawn finally glanced upwards to realize that a full size mirror hung over him.

"You have a good physique, Shawn. You should take better care of yourself," Skip said.

"What?"

"This hair is disgusting. You would look so much better if you were more streamlined."

"Shit, shaving body hair is for fags!" Shawn was still struggling against the restraints but it was useless. He was exhausted, and the reflections of the two groomed, calm men standing over him confused him. Here he was, stressing and fighting, and they were calm and collected. In charge.

"Lots of men shave their body hair," Ace explained. "It works for some, but you would look better trimmed." Skip handed Ace an electric trimmer, which he turned on and waved delicately in front of Shawn's face. Shawn looked in terror as Ace took the blade over his chest and began to strike down the forest of hair growing across. He could only look forward and watch as his reflection was slowly denuded across the chest and abs. Skip made eye contact in the mirror and smiled brightly at the terrified man.

Next, Ace continued his swarthy path on the legs, reducing the long hairs to fine fibers, highlighting the deep cuts along his quads and calves. Beyond his range of vision, Skip had been stirring a pot of hot wax, and now sat down next to Shawn. He took one of Shawn's hands and applied the wax on the hair covering his fingers. With a quick rip, and a tired yelp from Shawn, one finger was clean of unsightly hair. Skip continued the process across all five digits and the back of the hand, then proceeded to do the other hand. Ace had moved on to the arm that Skip had finished and removed all the hair from Shawn's wrist to his shoulder. Skip went down to Shawn's feet and quickly ripped the hair off of his feet and toes.

"Goodness, Shawn," Ace smiled at Shawn in the mirror. "You look so much better now."

"Yes, I think so too. You should keep this look." Shawn stared at the two smiling men in the mirror, finding himself drawn into their bright smiles and amber eyes. He wanted to look away, but his face was held in place. He tried to close his eyes, but he was constantly drawn back into the soothing haze of their white teeth and tan skin. His skin did look good. His skin had a natural tan and without the hair it seemed that his muscles were bigger, more cut, more defined. Maybe it wasn't, no, he hated it. Shaving body hair was stupid. But kind of sexy...

"Now, about these," Skip said as he cut the boxer shorts from Shawn's body. Shawn was shocked into silence as Ace roughly gripped his package.

"Don't worry," Ace said, again smiling. "I'm not a pervert. I just want you to be the best you can be." And with those words, he once again turned on the electric trimmer and carefully reduced his pubic hair to a short stubble. A few more quick strokes near the inner thigh, and both preppy boys stepped back and addressed Shawn in the mirror.

"You look swell, Shawn," Ace said. "This clean look really suits you."

"Yes, I agree," Skip said. "I think everything we're doing you should maintain. Weekly should be enough for you to look presentable everywhere. It's important to be groomed and presentable at all times. You don't want to meet the wrong person looking poorly."

"Wrong... person?" Shawn stammered, he was nearly overwhelmed by the whole situation and found himself increasingly groggy and incoherent.

"Yes, there are the right people and the wrong people," Ace explained. "If you meet a bank president, you don't want to look like a grunge band member. You want to look like you know a Brooks Brothers inside and out. That's how you get ahead."

"Oh, but... I ... umm.... shit," Shawn said, exerting a tiny bit of resistance in an attempt to move his head to the side.

"And don't swear, Shawn," Skip said. "You sound unprofessional and uneducated. Looking your best means acting your best."

"Umm, okay."

"Don't stutter or stammer. Speak clearly and decisively. A man."

"Okay." Ace and Skip smiled to each other, and for just a single moment, Shawn smiled himself.

"You are coming along very well, Shawn. Just a tad more and I think you'll be a new man."

"Yes, I agree. Shawn just needs a few touch-ups and he will be an ideal gentleman." Skip stepped out of view for just a second and then reappeared. Into the mirror, he held up a pair of classic y-front briefs. He pulled on them slightly to emphasize the item.

"These, are the ideal underwear for a conservative, preppy man. That's what we want you to become. That's what you want to be Shawn. All of this is just so you can be a gentleman." Shawn's eyes bulged as he saw the old-fashioned underwear. Ace undid the straps on his legs, but Shawn found himself too exhausted to move. The boys gently lifted up his legs and slip down the tight, white briefs. They traced up his thighs and gently began to engulf his crotch and butt. With a sharp elastic snap, he felt the band settle against his waist. He had resisted looking, but curiously he peered at his image. He looked amazing. The briefs looked so presentable and manly. He felt powerful and in control. Once again, Shawn found himself smiling pleasantly.

"Feeling a tad preppy?" Ace teased. "Don't worry, only one thing left."

"Your hair," Skip said. "It's so rough and wild. Not the image one wants to send." Shawn had nothing left inside himself to resist. He merely nodded as well as the straps would let him. The table holding up his head receded, and Shawn saw Ace holding his neck up while Skip brought over a pair of clippers. They sprang to life with a low growl. Skip wasted no time in reducing the sides of his head to nothing. The shaggy haircut was being quickly reduced. He ran the clippers over the sides of his head, leaving a white wall of flesh behind in its wake. That finished, he proceeded to comb the hair back and began hacking it off. Large chunks of brown hair fell to the floor as Shawn was shorn. Finally, with about an inch left, Skip wet the hair and brushed it all up. Using a small trimmer, he proceeded to flatten out his hair, until the top was a level plain identical to Ace's square hair.

"You need something drastically different," Ace explained. "Such a dramatic change proves how intent you are on improving yourself." Skip just nodded as he continued to even out the top of the hair. Shawn was nearing his breaking point, as he watched his long, mangled hair replaced with a corporate hairstyle of precision and execution. Skip applied some strange wax to the hair forcing it to stand up straight.

"After some practice," Skip began, "your hair will hold itself up. But the wax is still good measure." Shawn found himself nodding as the knowledge of how to maintain his new hairstyle sunk into his freshly exposed head. Skip pulled the head piece out from the table, and Ace let Shawn's head rest on the table. The two prepsters stood back and admired their work.

"You look like a decent guy now. No more grunge or nasty college boy."

"No, you look like the prefect preppy."

"You are going places. Meeting the right people."

"I'm sure you'll get a great job and make lots of money."

"You've already met us. And there is a bunch of men back at the house excited to meet you."

"Of course, you should join the fraternity. Men like us need to stick together."

"Don't you like this Shawn. Being preppy. You look so much better."

"You're a born-again preppy. We prefer you like this. And all the brothers want you like this. You want to be like this, don't you?"

Staring at himself in the overhead mirror, Shawn was shocked at how much he liked his reflection. Formerly shaggy hair now stood straight up over his head, looking stiff as a board. Whitewalls on the sides, his ears seemed to stick out a little - something else he found surprisingly appealing. His tan, muscular body was shown to all its glory, his former resistance giving his body a sheen from sweat and muscle tension. Without his body hair, he looked bigger, stronger, and cleaner. He had always thought that shaving body hair was nelly and silly, but he looked much better now. And then the briefs. Tight, white briefs with a full cut covered his nether regions. He had always worn boxers. But there was something alluring about the underwear, with its clean-cut lines. Almost unconsciously, Shawn found his face slowly being filled with a charming, pleasant smile. His dazzling white teeth began to cover more of his face as the empty grin consumed him. Brown eyes lit up with a sort of cordial ambiance.

He liked it. He really did. Shawn was suddenly overwhelmed with a dire urgency. Something he had never felt before welling up inside of him. He wanted to be like the preppy boys. To be like this. Attractive and fit and well liked and happy. To be successful and entitled and self-assured. And surrounded by men his equal. Men as fit and clean and productive. To be engulfed in their manly etiquette and mannerisms. Better yet, be a part of group of such men. To be part of a fraternity.

All at once, Shawn's sudden pleasant nature began to override the rest of his personality. So what if he wanted to dress, act, be one of the preppy boys? If anything, being a preppy boy would be good for him. He would get in with the right people, wear the right clothes, be the right kind of man. The kind of man Shawn would never have been on his own. And he'd be happy. It sounded pretty great to Shawn, who continued to sink into a cheerful bliss.

At this point, Skip and Ace proceeded to undo the straps holding Shawn down. He allowed the two well-dressed boys to help him off the table and he thanked them politely. Manners were always important after all, but too much thanks sounded sarcastic or desperate - neither of which were admirable qualities in a man. Ace gave Shawn a gentle pat on the back and a bright smile.

"Feeling better?"

"Yessir, thank you both very much," Shawn replied.

"Of course," Skip replied eloquently. "Here, you might want to get dressed."

The boys handed Shawn a pair of khaki Dockers’. He slipped the pants up his muscular legs and pulled them high over his briefs. The khakis sat a little higher than his normal baggy pants had, and Shawn liked it. It was a much classier fit. As he zipped up the fly and buttoned the top, he noticed the pants were pleated. Actually, it was a double pleat, he was pleased to note. For some reason, he had always hated pleated pants. He didn't know why. Clearly, they were a much smarter look on a man. More formal. Next, the two fraternity boys gave Shawn a light blue oxford shirt, complete with a little polo player on the left breast. They helped him tuck the shirt gently into his pants as he began to button the shirt up. He stopped before the very top, but Ace flipped up Shawn's collar and proceeded to button it to the very top. His neck was a little too thick for the buttoned collar, but he realized it would force him to carry his chin high, with pride and confidence. Yes, a high collar was definitely better for his posture.

"A proper man doesn't wear a button-down shirt without a tie of some sort," Skip said coyly as he approached Shawn, a line of fabric resting in his hands. Shawn couldn't see what was happening as Skip proceeded to tie a tie on his neck. At the same time, he felt Ace fumbling with the cuffs of his shirt.

Skip stepped back and admired his handiwork and once again presented that gorgeous white smile to Shawn, who was pleased to return the cordial charm of the other man. Ace was working away at his hips, looping a brown leather belt through the hoops of his Dockers. Skip held up a pair of blue dress socks with a purple and yellow argyle pattern on them. Shawn smiled and lifted up one leg, and then the other, feeling the stretch of the fabric engulf his feet. When he set each foot down, a pair of penny loafers had been set in the way, forcing his foot to slide elegantly into the leather classics.

"Just a tad preppier," Ace said as he pulled up the final item. A sweater vest, with a black, grey, and white argyle pattern on it. Shawn could see thin yellow and blue lines running between the diamonds. He lost his vision as the sweater was pulled over his hair and rested on his broad shoulders. Rough hands began adjusting the sweater across his body. It was a bit of tight fit given the size of his pecs and shoulders. The belt was adjusted, the tie straighten, the hair fluffed. Meanwhile, Skip had pulled over a full-size mirror. When Ace stepped away from Shawn, taking his place next to Skip, Shawn could finally see his new visage.

He was a preppy boy. Pleated khakis over an oxford shirt and sweater vest. It hadn't been a traditional tie that was put around his neck, but rather a purple and yellow bowtie. Classic cufflinks had been used on the cuffs of his shirt. Combined with the brown loafers and belt, he was the spitting image of a preppy boy.

Spitting image? Shawn thought to himself. How inappropriate. More like the classic construct of a prepster.

"I think Tad is preppy now," Ace said as he looked over the new prep's outfit.

"Think you are a Tad now?" Skip said as he slipped his hand on the recently madeover man's shoulder.

"Skip, Ace, thank you both very much. I would be pleased if you called me Tad. Shawn is so uncouth."

"We understand, Tad," Ace said. "Neither of our names befit our preppiness. Hence, we have preppy nicknames."

"Well, Tad, I think that it's time you went upstairs and met the rest of the men. You are in the fraternity now, correct?"

"I would be honored to be a brother. Rush begins today?"

"Oh, you're not going to need to rush. In fact, we would like you to greet the rushees."

"Absolutely!" Tad exclaimed. "I am honored to represent our brothers and our fraternity."

"Great, let's get you settled in." The three brothers walk upstairs into the house, to introduce Tad to his new life.

Later that day, as the rushees came into the house, the brother meeted and greeted all the potential men. Among them, was a preppy man with a flattop and a purple and yellow bowtie. He was wearing pleated khakis and a sweater vest. And his nametag had 'TAD' written in bold letters. It crossed his chest in the same place the little polo player did. Aside from the nametag, he was nearly indistinguishable form the other brothers. And in the next week, a few more good men would find themselves proud brothers of the fraternity and brothers in preppiness.

#preppification #callmecrazy #clothing #nosex #mental change

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charincharge · 5 years ago

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Cruel Summer, Part 11

cruel summer masterlist

AN: Some NSFW action in this one. You are all the best. Things are going to start to get slightly bumpy. Don’t hate me.

Sunlight streams through the slotted blinds into the guest room, waking Rowan slowly. He’s warm and content, tangled up in Aelin. His arm is draped over her stomach, and his face is pressed into the mess of blonde waves that spill over her shoulder. Rowan breathes slowly, unwilling to let this moment end yet. He knows as soon as Aelin wakes, he’ll have to put back on his mask of indifference, and he’s not quite ready to do that.

For a prolonged second, he lets himself feel. Feel how perfect it could be. He tries to imagine Aelin waking in his bed every day in an apartment, just the two of them – no roommates, no parents, no chaperones, no secrets. But the picture is too blurry, too far out of reach. Rowan grasps for it, but it quickly evaporates into smoke as he feels Aelin start to wake.

He closes his eyes, feigning sleep, as she turns to face him. He feels her trace her finger over his parted lips, and he can’t help but let them curl into a smile as she presses her mouth against his softly.

“What time is it?” he mumbles, cracking his eyes open. He tries not to gasp at how the gold around Aelin’s pupil flares and melts into turquoise in the early morning sun. She’s stunning.

“Early,” she croaks, her unused voice thick with sleep.

“Early enough to shower?” Rowan asks.

“Together?” Aelin asks, running her hands across his shoulders, and Rowan nods sleepily. “In my house, with my sleeping parents? In broad daylight?” she sasses, her attitude coming in full force, despite not being fully awake yet. “Risky, Mr. Whitethorn...”

Rowan is about to say never mind when Aelin rolls out of bed and pulls her nightgown over her head. She looks over her shoulder and tosses the silky fabric at Rowan, who watches her naked backside sway from side to side as she makes her way into the en suite bathroom.

Aelin is already in the shower by the time Rowan’s body catches up with his lust-addled brain. The water sluices down her tanned skin, dripping over her soft curves, and Rowan wants to touch her everywhere. He puts soap in his hands and rubs them together, lathering them up before running them down the smooth expanse of Aelin’s skin. It’s a weak excuse to touch her, but he doesn’t particularly care. She lets him soap her up thoroughly, letting his hands spend extra time on her breasts and between her legs.

“Please tell me you can be very quiet,” Aelin challenges him, holding up a condom he hadn’t even seen her grab. Rowan nods silently as Aelin rolls the condom onto him and turns around and bends over, hands pressed against the side of the wall. Rowan nearly passes out at the sight. He hasn’t had her like this before. From behind. And as he slides between her legs, he knows he won’t be able to do this often. She’s so tight and wet and warm. He swallows a moan as he bends over her, reaching for her chest and resting his head on his shoulder to hear her shallow pants. He holds her against him as tight as possible as their hips slap together, barely covered by the sound of water hitting the shower floor. He runs his hands between their legs where they’re joined, and Aelin’s knees suddenly buckle as she squeezes around him. It’s all too much and too fast, and Rowan follows behind her quickly. Aelin’s body sags, and Rowan has to work quickly to hold her up, lest they collapse.

He kisses his way down her back, keeping her upright in his sturdy grasp, both of them breathing hard. Not a word is exchanged as the pair finish their shower. But Aelin squirts some shampoo into her hand and motions for Rowan to lean down. He does so willingly and nearly purrs at the feeling of her hands in his hair. Once they’re cleaned, Aelin tosses the dirty condom down the toilet and grins widely.

“Good morning,” she says, pressing her lips against Rowan’s.

With one last kiss, Aelin disappears across the hall, completely undetected. Rowan lays back down in bed. It’s still so early. Before he knows it, he’s asleep again.

Rowan wakes to the sound of loud, chattering voices downstairs. He’s slightly disoriented before he realizes where he is and what room he’s in. He quickly gets dressed and makes his way down the stairs to join the rest of the family, but he’s surprised to see an unfamiliar face at the breakfast table, sitting next to Aelin.

His dark hair is parted to the side, and his brown eyes light up at something Aelin’s said. He’s wearing a short-sleeved button down with some sort of whale pattern on it and expensive looking sunglasses hang at the collar.

“Rowan!” Evalin greets him with a chipper smile. “Come meet our neightbor, Sam Cortland.”

Sam stands, revealing his salmon-colored shorts, and stretches out his hand for Rowan. He’s everything Rowan is not. Prep school born and bred, wealthy, sophisticated. He looks like he belongs in the Ashryver’s Italian marbled kitchen. Unlike Rowan, in his park uniform polo and khakis. He can’t help but notice that Aelin matches him, in a pink and green flowered dress. They look like a match made in prepster heaven. Rowan’s stomach sinks, but he offers his hand back with a forced smile and introduces himself in turn.

“What would you like for breakfast?” Evalin asks, and Rowan declines, saying he’s not a breakfast person.

Dorian shovels eggs into his mouth. “Come sit anyway. We’re going to walk over to the park in a few.”

Rowan sits. He tries to relax and participate in conversation, but it’s hard when his body tenses each time Sam leans over to tell something to Aelin; each time Aelin laughs or smiles in response it’s even worse. He knows he’s driving himself crazy over nothing – that he was the one inside Aelin this morning, and last night, for that matter. But there’s something in Sam’s disarming tone and lackadaisical smile that unsettles him.

Rowan’s more than relieved when it’s time to head to work. The four of them walk down the beach together. Rowan manages to take his spot walking next to Aelin, letting his fingers brush against hers occasionally “by accident.” Aelin smiles each time, and so he doesn’t stop.

“So, what’s the best ride at this place?” Sam asks, looking directly at Aelin and no one else. “I think the last time I was here I was about ten, so…”

“The Firecoaster is my favorite,” Aelin answers immediately. “But Dorian likes the log flume.” Aelin pauses. “What’s your favorite ride, Rowan?”

“Uh, I haven’t actually been on any of the rides,” Rowan admits, and Aelin stops walking, her eyes widening in shock.

“What do you mean you haven’t been on any of the rides? You’ve worked at the park for a month!”

Rowan frowns. “Yeah, working.” He pauses, thinking. “My least favorite ride to work is the ferris wheel.”

Aelin looks as if her mind is being blown at Rowan’s answers, though he can’t quite comprehend why. “That’s it,” she says resolutely. “Next day off I’m taking you to the park.”

Dorian laughs. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly what Rowan wants to do on his day off, Ace. Go to his place of work.”

“It’s the best place in the world!” Aelin replies. “He should be so lucky to have me show him around.”

Sam interjects. “I know I, for one, feel incredibly lucky to have you take me today.”

It takes everything in Rowan’s willpower not to roll his eyes.

“Sure,” Rowan answers, and Aelin smiles.

“Yeah?”

Rowan nods, and Aelin’s smile widens. He would do anything to keep that smile on her face.

They arrive at the park all too soon, and Rowan is reluctant to let Aelin out of his sight, but he knows he needs to check what shift he has first. He brushes by her and squeezes her hand softly, and he smiles when she squeezes back, acknowledging their small secret moment, before she takes off with Dorian and Sam.

It turns out he’s stationed at the log flume first, so he’s not surprised when he runs into Dorian nearly immediately.

“Where’s Aelin?” Rowan inquires, looking around for her familiar golden ponytali.

Dorian rolls his eyes. “The princess apparently didn’t wear the right outfit to get wet in, so they’re going to play games until I’m finished.”

Rowan pauses. “Sam didn’t want to come with you on the ride?”

Dorian scoffs. “I don’t think Sam is particularly interested in hanging out with me.” Rowan’s brow furrows, and he swallows, his mouth suddenly extremely dry. “Aelin’s a big girl,” Dorian clarifies, upon seeing Rowan’s face. He pats his shoulder. “Don’t worry. She can handle herself.”

“I’m not worried,” Rowan says too quickly, and Dorian throws him a knowing smirk as he hops onto the ride. Rowan reminds himself to work harder on his poker face.

The sun beats down on Rowan’s shoulders, and by mid-afternoon he can feel a burn starting to heat the back of his neck. Rowan’s mood has progressively gotten worse. He’s spotted Sam and Aelin and Dorian a few times in the park, but Aelin hasn’t stopped by to say hi to him once. He knows it’s because she’s entertaining Sam at the behest of her parents, but it still hurts a bit.

Which is why at the end of the day, when he sees a text waiting from her, Rowan is relieved and thrilled.

We’re getting dinner at Town Dock Tavern. Come join when you get off?

Rowan heads to the restaurant without even changing. It’s off the beaten path a little – overlooking the water with a perfect view of the sunset. It’s more intimate than he expected, the small tables it only by candles on the inside with a large wraparound window to get the best glimpse of the waterfront view.

Rowan takes a look at the menu in the window and notices the prices. $18 for a bowl of chowder? $30 for fish tacos? Rowan wonders if they’re putting gold into the food. Even though it’s a bit – okay, way – out of his price range, he’s still anxious to see Aelin. Maybe he can just sit with them and pick up something cheaper on the way home.

He enters the restaurant and spots her immediately. She and Sam are at a small table, just the two of them, heads huddled together and laughing over something. Sam reaches over the table and grasps Aelin’s hand, and she doesn’t pull away. In fact, she tilts her face down, tucking her chin into her chest, the way she does when she’s flustered and blushing. Rowan looks around, wondering where Dorian is, but he’s nowhere to be found. There’s not a third seat. Not a third plate. No, it’s just the pair of them. Looking very much like they are on a date.

Rowan’s stomach twists when he realizes that Sam has taken Aelin out before he has, despite them sharing beds for the last week. No, that’s not quite it, he reminds himself. Apparently, Sam is allowed to take Aelin out, but he’s not. Rowan exits the restaurant without alerting them of his presence.

Once he’s safely back in his truck, he texts Aelin back, working hard to keep his tone light and unaffected.

I think I’m going to head home. Someone kept me up late last night and woke me up early this morning…

He’s surprised when his phone vibrates a minute later with a reply.

Who would be so inconsiderate?!

It vibrates again.

Get some sleep. See you tomorrow?

By the time Rowan arrives back at this apartment, he’s a mess of feelings. It’s not that Aelin doesn’t like him – he knows she does. But they haven’t established any rules or regulations to this thing they’re doing. What does casual even mean? Does it mean she can hook up with other people? Date them? Is it too late to clarify? He hates this.

Manon can sense his bad mood immediately and sighs loudly as she follows him into the kitchen, where he pours himself a glass of whiskey.

“Want to bake?” she asks, and Rowan turns in surprise at his roommate.

“You’d bake with me?” he asks tentatively.

Manon shrugs. “I had a crap day, too.”

“Want to talk about it?” he asks as he pulls out the flour, sugar, butter, eggs and some mixing bowls.

Manon raises a carefully groomed eyebrow. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” Rowan chuckles.

“Yeah, me neither,” Manon agrees. She looks at the ingredients and then back at Rowan. “Okay, what are we making?”

Rowan explains the recipe he’s been wanting to try out – a sweet tea bundt cake with a pecan glaze. Manon is actually an excellent sous chef, helping him measure out everything, and the pair work in efficient silence, creating the sugary treat.

“You need to take a day off from her,” Manon finally says, her voice cutting into the silent room.

Rowan sets the timer as he closes the oven and sighs loudly. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about this.”

Manon shrugs. “Yeah, I can’t help myself.” She pauses and tugs at her platinum hair, clearly uncomfortable, before barreling forward. “Listen. I’m all for casual whatevering. That’s my life’s blood. But, what you’ve been doing isn’t actually casual. You’ve seen her literally every day for nearly a month. And the past two weeks have been all day, every day nonstop.”

Rowan wants to protest, but Manon isn’t wrong.

“I’m not saying ghost her for days. Don’t be a fucking ass,” she explains. “I’m saying, maybe just take one day off.”

“That’s not horrible advice,” Rowan admits.

Manon smirks. “Yeah, I know. If you’d ever fucking listen to me, you’d know I’m a genius.”

Rowan refills his whiskey and offers a glass to Manon, who gladly accepts it. They make their way to the couch and both plop down.

“Your turn?” Rowan asks, prodding Manon with his toe. She kicks him away and takes a large sip of her whiskey.

“Remember the date I went on the other night?” Rowan nods. “Well, turns out I thought it was a date, but she didn’t.”

Rowan rubs at his stubble. “Sorry, Man. That’s…shit.”

Manon shrugs, playing it cool, but even Rowan can see the hurt behind her golden eyes. “The trials and tribulations of being a gay girl. Whatever. We’re friends. It’s fine. I don’t care.”

Rowan laughs, softly at first. But once it takes off, he can’t stop. The laughter becomes raucous, releasing the tension he’s held in all day. “Oh, Man. We’re a mess.”

Manon looks at him seriously. “Take a day off. A full twenty-four hours.” Rowan looks at the phone in his hand with uncertainty. “You can do it,” Manon insists.

Rowan opens his phone and texts back.

I’m actually busy tomorrow. But let’s meet up later this week?

Rowan shows the text to Manon. She nods in approval, and he hits send. Rowan immediately turns his phone off, not wanting too see if Aelin replies or not. He hopes he has the strength to make it through one single day without her.

~*~*~*~*~

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@justgiu12

#rowaelin #aelin x rowan #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #charincharge writes #cruel summer au #amusement park au #throne of glass #tog fanfic

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infinitegalahad · 4 years ago

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Idk I’ve been feeling pretty down lately. Something cute, angsty, and smutty with a jealous Merriell Shelton and fem reader ?? You can have fun with it

Doux Comme Des Bonbons

Pairing: Snafu x Gender Netural! Reader

Summary: Snafu has a tendency to always wound up into trouble. Regardless, you still manage to put up with him.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Implied sexual harrasment, jeleous! snafu, cursing, fighting, but very minor!

A/N: Of course I can! I feel you, hope this cheers you up! ❣️✨ I’m sorry this came so late. I’ve been studying for a few tests. I promise to work on a few requests this weekend though! I love the requests though, keep them coming in! This one was a little longer than expected. Snafu is my favourite himbo. The title translates to “as sweet as candy” bc this is fluffy-is. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

“Snafu, he’s just a classmate!”

Snafu slammed the door to your apartment building. If school and work weren’t hard enough, this had been your breaking point. As much as you loved your Cajun boyfriend, he was an absolute handful. It was like taking care of a manchild who you loved one minute, the next you wanted to scream in his face. Whenever things were peaceful between you, it was bliss. Endless worship, cuddles, cute french nicknames, romantic and steamy nights. It was anything a partner could ask for.

But when all hell would break loose between you two, it would be full-on discord.

“Classmate ma’ ass. Prissy lil’ fucker. I’ve seen ‘da way ‘dat preppy boy looks at you.” Snafu annoyingly badgered. He followed you around your apartment. Stopping at the kitchen counter, you spin on your heel to look at him straight in the face, a hand on your waist and an angry pout proudly displayed on your face. “ ‘Dat Chris or whatever his n-”

“Chad. His name is Chad.” You corrected.

The Cajun groaned as his calloused hands grasped onto the counter. He was extremely aggravated with hell in his eyes. “Whatever. I don’t like ‘yah hangin’ ‘round him. Chad kept starin’ at you like you were a piece of meat. Tried to fuckin’ steal ma’ seat next to you! ‘Dat lil’ sunva gun tryin’ to sit next ‘ta ‘ma Cher!”

Chad wasn’t someone you considered a friend or acquaintance. He was someone who was in your lecture who happened to be one of your friend’s inner friends. Whenever you would go to study, Chad would always tag along. He mainly wouldn’t study and would pester the hell out of you. He had even followed you to Snafu’s jeep, which proceeded to Snafu almost running him over. Thankfully you had convinced Chad not to press charges.

There was no denying he was a total asshole. He wore the brighetst polos, cheated on every test, and did whatever he pleased. Snafu was convinced that his parents paid his way into college. It baffled you how you’re best friend could even consider someone such as Chad a friend. His whole purpose of being alive was to annoy you. Snafu surely didn’t care for him. But you only had the class for another two months, and then you would be rid of Chad.

Two months had gone by and Chad’s advances had begun to slowly die down. He was aware that you were dating Snafu, who he deemed a man out of your league. It was true, but you loved Snafu with every part of your soul. Snafu was not your everyday boyfriend. It was like dating a man child off of his ADHD medication. He was a somewhat (but still young) man who worked in lumber, a little rough around the edge with a thick Cajun accent. You were a teacher’s pet with a kind heart and gentle presence. When your friend Eugene had set you up, you’d never thought it would work. But date after date, the two of you only grew closer. Within three months, you had moved into Snafu’s apartment since you could barely afford to live in a shitty dorm. When Snafu had offered his home to become your home, you knew you had fallen in love with him. As much as Snafu was the occasional pain in the neck, he was yours and you were his.

Also in those two months, your professor had invited you to a semester party after you had finished up exams. The university you attended was celebrating his retirement and had invited the whole school. Not wanting you to be alone, Snafu tagged along. He looked amazing that night; his wild curls tamed with copious amounts of gel, a white collared shirt, and dress shoes that were crisp. It would have been a lovely night if Snafu had simply kept his mouth shut, which he struggled with.

-----

Walking arm and arm with your Cajun boyfriend, you were literally the belle of the ball. The amount of compliments you had received on your outfit was impressive. You had to thank your friend for the simple, yet elegant outfit.

One of your classmates had stopped to compliment your outfit. After a short discussion, you and Snafu continued your way to your assigned seating. Smiling at one of your classmates, Snafu pulled you in closer to his body.

“Relax Snaf,” You smiled as you leaned your head onto his shoulder. “Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

“Whaddya talkin’ ‘bout? I’m fine. Justa’ lotta guys comin’ up ta you-I don’t blame them ‘doe. But if the-”

“Y/n!”

Snafu was cut off by your friend Hana. Best friends since birth, the two of you were inseparable. Same neighborhood, same high school, and same world-renowned university. Hana knew you better than your own parents at times. You left Snafu’s link to go give her a hug. Hana walked over and gave Snafu a pat on the back, knowing him quite well. You could tell she was a little standoffish with him since she thought he was way out of your league, but was glad to finally see you happy.

“Someone's looking dapper tonight!” Hana commented, patting Snafu’s shoulder. Snafu chuckled and nodded back, complimenting Hana’s (hideous) pink coral slacks. You saw Snafu’s confusion at how bright the pants were. Hana, even if she was your best friend, was a drastically different person from you. “Glad you brought him along, y/n. You guys look so cute together!”

Snafu stood right beside you. Feeling a firm hand on your waist, he looked over and gave you a devilish smirk. “Hana, my cher right here is ‘da real belle of the ball? They don’t even have to try-they just always look flawless.”

While being flirty, Snafu’s sweet side was starting to break through. The three of you chuckled as you gave Snafu a peck on the cheek. Cooing into his ear, “Merriell Shelton, you’re one heck of a kiss up.”

“What? I’m only speakin’ the truth.” He defended.

Hana smiled along at that, giving you a small wink. “Snafu is only speaking the truth. You guys are looking for your table?”

You nodded in response. The banquet hall was small and full of people. It was also dark which made it near impossible to find your assigned seating.

“We’re actually at the same table! Allow me to lead the way.” Hana stated. Snafu and you followed here through the crowd to the table. It mainly contained your classmates and a few of their families and friends. Everything was at peace until you saw a flash of a preppy patchwork suitjacket. It took a minute to process before it hit you and Snafu.

It was the one and only Chad.

Chad had been conversing with his friends.Upon seeing you, he let out a bostieorus laugh with his other preppy friends. Snafu felt immeidntly threatened in his presence, his hold tigenthing at your waist. He was trying to act tough but came off more as a child who’s favoruite toy was going to be taken away. As Chad stood up to come greet himself, you leaned over with your teeth gritted into a smile.

“Don’t say a damn thing. I can handle this.”

The tension between Chad and Snafu was evident. Here Chad was a young and egotistical frat boy who thousands of girls would squirm after. Here Snafu was, a bug-eyed Cajun with a heavy accent and one hell of an attitude. Chad still seemingly wasn’t over the fact that he was almost run over one time by Snafu. He even lightly joked about it, which didn’t sit well with any of you. This only caused Snafu’s burning hatred for Chad to grow even more. Chad was the gasoline and Snafu was the flame. Unfortunately, you and Snafu were placed right next to Chad and his friends. Hana was right next to you and knew that this wasn’t going to end well with the prepster and Cajun. Snafu would swing around the cheap whiskey in his cup and glare down Chad whenever he would even dare look at you. You hated the fact that Snafu was acting like this just because of Chad. The inner immature child in Snafu was beginning to show when Chad began to talk politics. It led to a passive aggressive agreement before you became the mediator before someone got a black eye.

Chad was busy talking to his goons when Snafu turned to you, a hand on your thigh. You placed your hand, squeezing it as you leaned in. “Bab-”

“I don’t like him. Prissy little bitc-”

“Merriell!” You scolded. “Langug-” Snafu smirked as he leaned in to whisper into your ear. “I ain’t a Proctologist, but I know an asshole when I see one. Do people think he’s straight? With those pink tight pants, it’s sendin’ another message.”

A snort escaped your mouth as you leaned into the Cajun’s shoulder. He did have a point though. What did people see in Chad that was so attractive?

Snafu noticed that you were amused by his humor. That devilish smirk you knew all too well was plastered on his face. “We should bust outta here, ditch the party and go back home. Watch a ninety day fiance. I like what’s on ‘da outside, but i wanna see what’s on ‘da inside…”

Snafu’s fingers crawled closer to your stomach. You bit your lip in response, your cheeks burning. It was so hard to resist him all dressed up and neat. Two could play this game.

“What the hell am I ever gonna do with you, Merriell Shelton?”

“Beats me, (Y/p) (Y/l/n).” He purred into your ear. It was definitely starting to become harder to resist him, especially when he called you by your professional name. But you had to contain yourself and watch over Snafu for another hour.

Your professor had walked over, interrupting your intimate moment. It was mostly for the better. Snafu had a chance to talk to your professor and learn more about the class you had been taking. He chatted up a storm with Snafu, who seemed integrued. Snafu wasn’t one for learning whatsoever. But anything that his partner would do was of interest. Your professor had even complimented Snafu saying that he had found a lovely partner. As he walked away, Snafu stood by and grabbed your drink to go get a refill. You attempted to get up but Snafu put a hand on your shoulder, holding you down.

“Sit down, darlin’.” He stated, saying a hard d in his creamy Cajun voice. “I’m takin’ care of my smart lil’ student.”

The next few events happened too quickly for you to process. Once Snafu had left, Chad had scooted into his seat. You could smell the vodka on his lips. He began to be his typical self, but got much more invasive of your space. You mostly ignored him as he talked about how rich his family was and his summer house on Nantucket. Hana wasn’t there, so you were stuck until Snafu came back.

Chad began to insulet your boyfriend. It started out as nothing more than a drunken rant, but things slowly came to tug at your heart. He began to make fun of his appearance, calling him “bug-eyed” and “dirty looking skin”. He made fun of his work occupation, outfit, almost anything and everything about him. It was definitely an uncomfortable situation. Where the hell was Snafu?

The breaking point was when Chad had wrapped his arm around you, asking you “What the hell do you see in that loser?”

The next events were full of discord. Snafu had come over, furious. He had yanked Chad out of his chair, yelling in his face. Chad began to cry, threatening to sue you and Snafu. He had also thrown pathetic insults at Snafu, which only made Snafu’s burning hatred brighter. Everybody had their eyes on Snafu, you, and Chad. Embarrassed, you grabbed Snafu and dragged him out of the venue. It was best for the both of you to leave before the police were called. The last words you heard before leaving were Chad’s drunken cry.

“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer next day! Hope you both get evicted from your shitty little apartment! You people are so evil!”

------

“You could have just ignored him!”

“Like hell! He had yah’ hand ‘round you, tryin’ to s-”

“Oh for the love of god!” You cursed. “I could’ve handled that on my own. You didn’t have to yank him out of his chair!”

“I did have ‘ta! He was assaultin’ you! You’re my c-”

“Merriell, do not cher me. This is serious,” You hissed. All you wanted to do was go to bed and escape this horrible nightmare. “He could charge you for assault. Even if it was minor, you did try to run him over with your car. There’s no way you could stand a chance against that. If you had let me handle it, it wou-”

Snafu raised his voice, “Y/N! HE WAS HARRASIN’ YOU! TRIED TO PULL DOWN ‘YER PANTS! WHAT ‘DA HELL DID YOU THINK I WAS GONNA LET HIM DO? YOU JUST NEED TO FUCKIN’ LISTEN SOMETIMES!”

His sour tone definitely made your whole body go numb. When Snafu raised his voice, you knew he was mad. He was usually pissed off at the world, but it was chilling to hear him scream. His eyes widened as the gel in his hair began to wear off; his unruly curls began to show. You stepped back, feeling tears sting at your eyes. Snafu, upon seeing this, freaked out. He had been irritated the whole night. The last thing he wanted was to see you all upset. Your lip began to quiver as warm tears streamed down your cheeks. The Cajun’s face softened, walking over to apologize. He had fear all over his face. You were the person he loved the most yet at times he had no idea how to comfort you. Emotions weren’t his speciality. He grew up greedy and selfish since it was all he knew. When he had met you, Snafu had truly changed. He didn’t know how to describe it, but you had made him a better person. You gave him hope that the world wasn’t such a shitty place.

Turning around, you walk upstairs and block out everything. Your eyes are full of tears, blinding your vision. Snafu followed after you, begging for forgiveness. He was like a lost, heartbroken puppy. Instead of heading towards your shared bedroom, you decided to hide away in the bathroom. Slamming the door, you back into the wall and slowly slide down. All you wanted to do was just let your emotions loose and not have to think about absolutely anything. You just wanted to be alone with your tears and nothing more.

-----

The tears eventually stopped with your vision cleared. You could feel the dry makeup under your eyes. Your arms and legs felt numb as you were backed to a wall, staring into the shower. What did your professor think? It was horribly embarrassing for you. There was no way you and Snafu could win a lawsuit against Chad. He knew the power he had over the both of you. It was going to be an absolute nightmare. Hana was most likely blowing up your phone with notifications. What di-

Your thoughts went away when you heard the bathroom door open. It was the one and only Snafu who had the look of a sad puppy. He normally wasn’t this soft, but his face was ridden with guilt. You didn’t even react when he walked over and sat right next to you, his thigh right next to yours. Staring at the wall, he let out a sigh. His big blue eyes were right on you.

“Cher,” His fingers trailed onto your chin as he gently turned your head. Your face was destroyed with ruined makeup. It looked like he wanted to say something, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Guilt was all over his face. But there was no time to be whining, all he could do was attempt to make things right.

“Come on,” Snafu cooed. Grabbing your hand, he gently led you up to look in the mirror. This was the second time you saw yourself in the mirror that night. You looked like you had been hit with a tornado. The once neat outfit had been wrinkled, your neatly gelled hair wispy and falling apart, and your face covered with runny makeup. Snafu had gone through the cabinet to grab some makeup wipes. His fingers titled your head to him as he ran it gently over your face. Instead of fighting back, you let him remove the makeup from your face. He made sure to clean off every little bit from your foundation to your lipstick. As he reached your eyes, he peeled off one of your fake leashes and jumped back.

“Sacre bleu!” He cursed, throwing the eyelash into the sink. Snafu was a man who was scared by nothing, except for a fake eyelash. You bit your lip, trying to hold back a chuckle.

“ ‘Da fuck is dat thing? Fuckin’ spiderweb lookin’ bitch. Looks like it has a damn life of its own...” Snafu ranted as his words slowly turned into french. He turned over to you, biting your lip as you held back a laugh.

A smirk appeared on his face as he placed his hands on his hips, “You’d wear this shit?”

“Hana gave them to me.” You shook your head, smiling. He did have a point; they looked like spiderwebs. “I know, they're ridiculous.”

You felt Snafu’s calloused hands grab your waist and halt you on top of the bathroom counter. “Well atleast you make them look hot. Speakin’ of hot, you looked amazing tonight…” He looked down before looking right back into your eyes. “Listen, I’m sorry darlin’. Just seein’ him bother you made me livid. Ain’t no one gotta treat my cher like ‘dat. Especially ‘dat vineyard vines lookin’ prissy.”

You let out a sigh, leaning into his shoulder. “God, his suit was awful…”

“Fuckin’ blindin’. Like, pick a struggle with ‘dat middle part and layerin polo shit…”

A snort escaped your mouth. Snafu wasn’t wrong; Chad looked even worse than he usually did. It was always bright, blinding colors matched with even brighter, more hideous clothes. Snafu’s hand gently caressed your hair as you leaned onto him.

“By the way…” You cooed into his ear, “I’m not condoning what you did, but hearin’ you rip Chad to pieces was kinda hot...”

“Want me ta’ do it again? I’d love to see his little face all scrunched uppa’ ‘gain.”

“God no,” Shaking your head, your hands fiddled with his unruly curls. “If you do, i’m gonna take away all your cigarettes. We can’t handle the lawsuit that’s coming.”

“Y/n, hate to break it ‘ta yah, but I’m not a rule follower. Can I atleast run him over with ‘ma car? Or steal his trump sign?”

“Snafu Shelton, what the hell am I going to do with you?”

Snafu wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. He held on tight, like a child holding a teddy bear. “Stay with me. Right here, right now.”

You smiled into his shoulder as the two of you were wrapped in each other's arms. Snafu was certainly a handful, but you loved him more than anything in the world. He was truly willing to do anything to protect your honor and make you happy. That was a true man, not a boy.

“Ok, your chokin’ me Snaf.” You stated. Moving his arms, Snafu looks at your eyes as you rubbed them. “What time is it?”

“Ten? Darcey and Stacey are on.” He said, grabbing your hand as he led you out of the bathroom into your bedroom. “We can poppa’ few beers and order from Shanghai.”

An relieved sigh escaped from your mouth. Alcohol and chinese food were the perfect cure to a horrible night. “Thank freakin’ god. Anythin’ to forget this god awful night.”

You walked away to throw on your sweatpants and one of Snafu’s flannels on. Suddenly, his hand grabbed yours as he pulled you back to whisper into your ear. “Can’t wait ta’ see you outta’ dat pretty lil’ number ‘ya got on.”

An over exaggerated gasp escaped your mouth as you playfully (gently) slapped his face. A snarky laugh escaped his mouth. You rolled your eyes as you walked over to change. “Keep it in ‘ya pants, soldier.”

“Sorry. Whenever I see yah, I lose control darlin’.” Snafu smirked devilishly. “Can’t help it that you're smart n’ sweet. Just like candy.”

“Seriously, what the hell am I going to do with you?” You repeat yourself as you finish changing. It baffled you how you could handle Snafu. He was a manchild at times.

The Cajun grabbed your waist and began to tickle you. You fought back as you held back your giggles. Carrying you to the bed, he laid you down as the two of you held each other. His hand drew careless figures into your back as you nestled your face into his neck. He placed a kiss into your face, gently sighing into it.

“I love you, y/n.”

“Love you too, you dirty bastard.”

#rami malek x reader #snafu shelton x reader #merriell shelton x reader #snafu shelton #merriell shelton #rami malek #the pacific #my writing

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