oliver is a stud

Merry Christmas, mysliceoffun! I hope you enjoy this fic!

Title: Holiday Hideaway
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 5,880

Summary:

When Stiles makes a daring escape from his office holiday party, he runs into Derek Hale, the scorchingly attractive coworker he’s never managed to work up the nerve to talk to. Outside of the office, Derek seems less intimidating, especially when he’s sitting on a park bench petting dogs.

Maybe Stiles will finally have the chance to come up with something clever to say to him. Like…well, why doesn’t he just start with “hi”?

(AO3 link available Dec 26)


Stiles made it through approximately five minutes of the office holiday party before shooting frantic glances at possible exit routes. Blocked. Every last one of them, by clumps of coworkers who would probably notice if he barrel-rolled onto the floor and under a desk for the duration.

His dreams of escaping dashed, he reluctantly entered the potluck line, slotted between Bobby from Sales and Daphne from HR, who had glared at him in the elevator that morning, as though she’d never seen him before in her life. Nevermind that he’d been working there for three years and had most assuredly spoken to her on several occasions. Including when she’d walked him through his initial hiring paperwork.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

If Bookingham was a real place, what do you imagine it would look like?

Oh, MAN. This is like the greatest question I have ever gotten.

So first of all, because I love the ocean, Bookingham is an island. The climate is temperate, Mediterranean, the terrain hilly and rocky and studded with springs and olive groves. At the peak of the island, if you will, is the Library, Panverborum, place of all words. It’s a glittering paragon of neoclassical architecture. Of course it also serves at the Bookingham seat of government (i.e., my house, duh), but first and foremost, it’s a library. The whole place is stuffed floor to ceiling with books and plays and folios, and comfortable couches and armchairs and floor pillows and fireplaces and reading nooks. Below ground is the most glorious wine cellar the world has ever seen. 

Now, arranged in concentric rings around the library are narrow cobbled streets, with little bookshops and print shops and tea rooms and wine bars and what have you all crammed together on each side. Most of the proprietors—that is to say, the citizens—live above the shops in modest but comfortable dwellings, windows always open to welcome in a breeze, profusions of flowers spilling out of window boxes. Pets are, of course, welcome, and it’s not uncommon to see a cat leap out of one window, scurry along a wall, and be welcomed in through another. 

The farther you go down toward the shore, the farther apart the buildings are and the denser the trees get. Of course you can find statues and fountains and streams and at least one sprawling ampitheatre in the Greek style. Now, since Bookingham is a paper-and-ink economy and nobody can live on olives and wine alone (though some of us have tried and not been totally disappointed) the harbor is a busy place. We get all sorts, traders, sailors, pirates, you name it, but so long as they’re willing to abide by our laws—read books, be merry, don’t be a dick—they’re welcome to come and stay as long as they like. It’s not uncommon for them to jump ship and settle down permanently. But the ones who don’t bring goods we need and news of the outside world as well, and tell stories to eager listeners who likely as not will write their tales down and have them printed and hand them a book of their very own stories the next time they make port.

All in all it’s a pretty great place. Who wants to move here?

anonymous asked:

can you do a "I just moved here and I got lost and have /no fucking idea/ where I am, can you help me..?" au for solangelo??

I love when people ask “can you do..?” because I’m like yes yes I can do that thank you

-

Will looked at his map intensely, furrowing his eyebrows and flipping it around for the eleventh time. And yes, he did count how many times he flipped the map.

In short, he was stuck in Greece without a tour guide and a map that wasn’t in English.

And he had no fucking idea where he was.

“You look lost,” came an accented voice from behind him. Will whipped around around, finding that he had to look down at a black haired hot guy dressed in black. He was wearing a leather jacket, which was ridiculous because Will was sweating in a pair of cargo shorts and a tank top.

“I am lost,” Will said after he finally realized that he was staring at the man with an open mouth.

“You don’t need to repeat it back,” the man said as he stepped back, hanging his thumbs in the pockets of his jacket. “And you’re really freaking tall. It’s kind of demeaning. American, I’m guessing?”

The accent was seriously sexy and it lifted the man’s words so that English sounded much more lyrical than it actually was. “Uh, yeah. You’re… Italian?”

The man nodded, leaning over to look at Will’s map. “That’s where I’m originally from, yes. But I drift around. Just kept the accent because I quite like it, that’s all.” He tucked a lock of black hair behind a pale ear, revealing olive green studs. “If you’re American, why would you get a Grecian map?” the man asked, looking up at Will with a raised eyebrow.

Will momentarily flicked his eyes down to the man’s lips, which were a light shade of pink. “I didn’t really register the language until now.”

The man rolled his eyes and leaned back up, holding out a pale hand with slender fingers. “I’m Nico. Now tell me where you want to go. You’re a hopeless American, so I’ll accompany you there. I don’t have anything better to do anyway.”

Squinting his eyes at Nico, he took his hand, marveling at how their skin tones contrasted to greatly. “Thank you so much for being so kind,” he said sarcastically, “and this ‘hopeless American’ is named Will by the way.”

“Whatever.”

~

It was sundown and Nico and Will had traveled all around, Nico telling Will facts about the history and various myths that came up. Now they were looking at Poseidon’s temple, standing quietly at the beauty of the sun shining behind it.

Will looked down at Nico, who was wearing a rather sad face. “What’s wrong?”

“Ah, I’m just remembering someone I once knew. He was a hopeless American, too.” The furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips suggested there was more to the story.

“Why does Posiedon’s temple remind you of them?”

Nico didn’t speak for a good thirty seconds, his eyes never leaving the temple. “Posiedon is depicted as having black hair and sea green eyes. He had a love for the ocean and for all the creatures residing there because he was the god of that realm.

"The person I knew had sea green eyes and black hair. He loved the ocean unconditionally.” Will sensed that Nico was holding something back.

“And?”

“And he bought a boat, married the smartest and most beautiful woman he laid his eyes on, then went off to sea. They’re still out there somewhere.” Will seemed to get the picture, nodding his head.

“You loved his wife.”

For the first time since Will had met Nico, Nico laughed - as in, not a half-hearted snort, but an actual laugh. The world seemed to light up, and people turned to stare at the beautiful man dressed in black laughing.

“Everyone seemed to think that. I admired his wife, that is all. She was quite an amazing woman, and like a sister to me.”

“Then why-?”

“Do I seem so sad? It’s not because they’re at sea and I haven’t seen them since I was a teenager, it’s because I am, as you Americans would say, 'a flaming homo,’” he said, making air quotations.

“Oh.” The chances of Will becoming closer to Nico bumped up from 4% to about 50%. That is, if he played his cards right.

“'Oh,’ indeed,” Nico said, looking at Will with an amused look in his dark eyes. “Do not worry, though, I won’t attack you, or anything strange like that.”

“No, no, no, no,” Will said quickly, waving his arms around. “It’s just that I’m a flaming homo, too, and I thought you were cute so that kind of raised my hopes, and I don’t know why I’m telling you this when you probably still like that guy you were talking about, I’m sorry, I’m an idiot.”

Nico cocked an eyebrow, an irresistibly attractive smile playing on his lips. “I’ll have you know I’m not still in love with the man I told you about. It could never be, and I accepted that.” He got on his tip toes so that his eyes were level with Will’s nose. As he looked up into Will’s eyes, Will felt his breath catch in his throat. “How long are you staying in Greece?” Nico asked in a husky whisper.

“I-I don’t know,” Will answered, silently cursing himself because of his stutter. “I’m kind of a drifter, too,” he said after he cleared his throat.

“Good,” Nico said, sighing in what seemed like relief and stepping away. “I wouldn’t be able to bear it if I could only be with you for a short amount of time.”

“W-what?” Will asked, feeling his face redden.

All Nico did was wink in response. As he did so, his tongue darted out from between his lips, and the look was enough to virtually bring Will to his knees. Of course, he was in public, so he didn’t actually fall to his knees, but he certainly felt like he did.

“So, how about we enjoy the view?” Nico asked, turning away and walking toward the temple.

Will was staring at a view, but it wasn’t the temple. And what a view it was.

-

I’m sorry. No I’m not.

I’m kinda sorry for the dirty ish comment at the end lol

Thanks for the prompt!!!

About Sandor Clegane's fashion sense

While most fangirls all seem to think Sandor has poor fashion sense, I tend to disagree with the idea. I love his olive cloak, studded leather jerkin and plain armour and have also always appreciated neutral colours on men. He loves quality garbs but don’t like luxury which is also something I appreciate in men. I think his simple style suits as much his character as his impressive physique very much and I wouldn’t want him to change it. Now about his red tunic with the dog’s head: I agree it’s horrible but which man doesn’t have at least one ugly item in his wardrobe? (especially if single!) I think we can’t judge him based solely on that one misstep.