What about solangelo where they are in highschool will is the medic and Nico got injured during a soccer game
OH MY GOD THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE!!!!!
Leo kicked the ball to Nico from between the two opposing
players. It rolled to Nico like a magnet. He could hear the opposing team’s
midfielder coming up behind him, but Nico was in control of the ball now. He
turned and saw his opponent, a boy with light brown hair and dark eyes. He was
sweaty, and it made his hair stick to his forehead. He could have been cute
without that scowl on his face. But the scowl only made Nico smile in triumph.
Nico feinted right, only to kick to the left and follow the
ball as the other player tried to rebalance himself from the sudden step to the
right. Several other players began to swarm Nico, but it was like slow motion.
Nico processed each one’s moves, each step and attempt to take the black and
white ball at his feet. “’Scuse me, boys,” he said with a smirk, kicking the
ball between the legs of a red haired boy towards Leo.
The boy looked down in shock as the others tried to get to
Leo. He looked at Nico, and Nico winked, leaving the boy confused and red
faced. He laughed in delight and ran a little further down the field, calling
for the ball. The other team had a horrible manner of playing, every member swarming
the ball rather than staying at their position and staying spread out. Leo
kicked the ball hard toward another teammate who passed it to Nico.
The goal was so close. And only one defense. Nico started
for it, his eyes set on the net. The crowd got louder, but Nico couldn’t hear
them. He was too focused.
Before he knew it, a sharp, stinging pain shot up leg and he
fell. The ball rolled ahead of him, slowing, as one of the other players walked
away from Nico, not even going for the ball. Nico clenched his teeth and screwed
his eyes shut. Immediately, his teammates came to check on him, the referee’s
whistle pausing the game.
“Nico!” Leo shouted, kneeling next to him. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” Nico growled.
“Other team got a yellow card. Penalty shot,” one of the
“I’ll do it,” Nico said, trying to stand. But the second he
put his foot down, his vision went white. “Ow!” he yelped.
“You’re not doing anything,” Leo said.
“Hey, what happened?” a new voice said. Nico turned his head
and his voice caught in his throat. A boy with sandy blond hair, falling around
his face like waves and eyes bluer than the sky above them was looking at him
and Leo. He wore white shorts and a white polo with the school logo on the
One of the medics for the game.
“He hurt his foot,” Leo said.
“No I didn’t, I’m fine,” Nico said, finding his voice again.
“He kicked me, but I can still play.”
The medic smiled and Nico noticed he had freckles splattered
along his cheeks. “Put your foot down,” he said. Nico growled but did as he was
told, stumbling immediately. “Whoa, I got you,” he said, putting a firm grip on
Nico’s arm. “You’re not playing the rest of the game,” he said. Nico glowered
at him. “Pout all you want, Sunshine, it’s not happening.”
Nico’s eyes went wide as a few of his teammates snickered.
Nobody talked to him like that. Ever. They were too intimidated by him. “What’s
the hold up?” the ref said jogging up to them.
“His foot is hurt. He can’t play,” the blond medic said.
“I’ll take the shot,” Leo said.
“Don’t miss, Valdez,” Nico said in defeat. Leo nodded and
gave him a thumbs up. Then the medic swung Nico’s arm over his shoulders and
slid his arm around his torso. “What are you doing?” Nico asked in a panic.
“Helping you off the field?” the boy answered with a
confused look. Nico blushed and looked away, limping and not saying anything
else. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the medic smirking.
Finally he seated him on the bench and another medic gave
him a first aid kit. “Di Angelo,” the medic said. “Maybe you should change that
number on your jersey.”
Nico rolled his eyes and pulled off his jersey. Now that he
wasn’t running, it was incredibly hot. He glanced at the back of the shirt
where his last name was stitched and his number beneath it- 13.
He looked back at the medic to respond, but was surprised to
see him blushing and intently working on his ankle. Nico smiled to himself and
stretched, noticing the blue eyes glance up his torso. When he noticed Nico
looking at him, his eyes darted away and he cleared his throat.
“Thirteen is actually my lucky number,” Nico said with a
smirk. “So what’s your name?”
“Will,” he answered softly, his drawling voice like warm
“Nico,” he answered. “How’d you- ow!” he flinched as Will
positioned his foot. Will shook his head in dismay, but a smile tugged at his
lips. Nico tried again. “How’d you get to be a medic for the games?”
“I’m a nurse aid,” he answered. “And I’m also in med-micro,
so….” He shrugged.
“So you’re like… a nurse’s nurse?” Will moved his foot again
and Nico yelped. “I wasn’t being sarcastic!” he said with a huff. Will gave him
a look. “Okay maybe I was.” Will rolled his eyes, but Nico smiled at him. “So
you want to be a doctor?”
Will stood up and packed up the first aid kit. “It’s not
broken,” he said. “But try to stay off it for at least three days. The other
medic is talking to your dad now.”
“What? Wait!” Nico called, starting for him, but remembering
his ankle. “Hey!” he said. Will turned back around and was once again at a loss
for words. This hadn’t happened before. He was usually the one with the silver
tongue, able to talk himself out of anything, insult and make it seem like a compliment,
flirt and get what he wanted. But now, with those bright light blue eyes
looking at him intently like nobody had before, he was suddenly mute. He just
knew he didn’t want Will to go.
“Yes?” the freckled boy asked. He hadn’t stepped back toward
Nico, but kept a safe distance.
“Um….” Nico rubbed his neck and bit his lip. Think! Say something! “Thanks. For
fixing me up,” he finally said.
“Yeah, it’s kind of my job here,” Will answered, starting to
turn back around.
“No don’t-” Nico called, before he was able to stop himself.
Will turned back, just as shocked as Nico. He cleared his throat, but didn’t
look away. If he did, Will might just bolt. “Um, I mean…. Oh, to hell with it.
Look, I think you’re really cute and I kind of want to keep talking to you, but
I have no idea what to say to make you stay or somehow give me your number.”
Will’s eyes went wide and his cheeks became as red and the
ginger’s hair on the other team. Fuck, Nico
thought to himself. He must have scared him off. But instead, Will took a small
step toward him. “Uh, well I have to go tell your family what happened. And I’ll
probably have other injuries to deal with for the rest of the game. I can’t
stay.” Nico furrowed his eyebrows. “But if you stay after the game for a bit,
once you’ve changed and have your phone back….” He shrugged. “Okay.”
“Yeah, okay,” Nico said with a smile. “Cool.”
“Yeah, cool,” Will said, trying not to smile. He turned away
and Nico shifted his attention to the game.
He had never wanted a soccer game to end so badly in his
life the way he did now.
Mat arriving at his dorm for the first time to find Damien’s side of the room is all set up- complete with candelabras with plastic candles, 6 different flower pots, and oil paintings (how did he even get those up there? the walls are brick.)
Damien lands a work study as a computer technician around campus (logo-printed polo and all) and the cute guy from his philosophy class cannot work his laptop for shit. (Bonus: Mat knows how to work his laptop just fine, but he’s too shy to talk to that really intensely Victorian but insanely cute kid in his philosophy class. The cute technician guy, however, he can summon whenever he chooses.)
Mat works the early shift at the campus coffee shop. Used to muttered orders for strong coffee from kids with eyes half closed and untied shoelaces, he certainly notices the guy in perfectly pressed Victorian clothing who orders tea twice a week before his literature class.
Damien is dying to pet Mat’s anxiety support dog, but it’s a working dog, so instead he just stares at it from across campus all the time. Pretty soon, it isn’t just the dog he’s looking for.
Mat hangs out in the little wooded area on campus and plays guitar when he’s stressed out from too much social interaction. Damien is often there to appreciate the wild flowers. They can’t stop bumping into each other.
They form a friendship based entirely around the fact that they’re constantly the DD’s for their friends at the same bad parties, and have no one to talk to but one another.
Why can I imagine Jumin Han as one of those guys on a sham wow commercial, but the product is like Way-o- Cat Hair-rago? Jumin is wearing the cheesy ass khakis with the polo shirt, the business logo embroidered on the pocket.
Now, just imagine for a moment now..
Just imagine what this man would say in front the camera that would create a commercial almost EVERYONE would see.
In the most monotone voice,
“ Hello, I’m Jumin Han, creator of the ‘Way- o- Cat Hair- rago’, it takes care of your cat hair problem in a instant. Just wiiiiipe it amongst the area– No Elizabeth get out the shot- the world isn’t blessed enough to gaze upon your snow white complexion with the radiance of a million diamonds.”
okay so idk why but i feel like changgu worked at a coffee shop or something before his modeling career started, so imagine barista changguyeah i’m probably gonna write that au
like, he looked so good in his uniform that consisted of a polo with the cafe’s logo and a snapback and it’s safe to say that everyone that visited fell in love with him
i mean, can you blame them?? he was so sweet and helpful and so knowledgeable about the coffee and etc. bc he wanted to make sure he was able to help as much as he possibly could
was so sweet and helpful that he was able to help those who never tried coffee/tea and etc. to find flavors that they would actually like
so, working at a coffee shop in the heart of the city meant that people from all walks of life visited daily and that’s pretty much how the whole model thing started
it was hard for him to leave the coffee shop and it was the same for the staff bc he was one of the best workers and a lot of the customers missed him bc he made their days
at the beginning, changgu was both nervous and excited bc he never thought about modeling and also bc it was a new experience, a chance to discover things about himself and the world in a sense
it was kind of difficult for him to adjust but having friends that were part of the same modeling agency made things a bit better for him
a few of his friends were hongseok, shinwon, and rowoon and just having people that he could relate to made things better bc they were always there for each other
whenever they had breaks, changgu dedicated some of his time to attempting to learn how to skateboard via rowoon and he made it seem so easy
and despite changgu being kinda clumsy, he managed to get the hang of it pretty quickly thanks to his 3rd mom (bc hongseok was his 2nd lol)
okay so it was impossible for people not to love changgu after his model debut bc not only was he handsome, he was also super sweet and caring, like, even the photographers and etc. adored him
he was also super hardworking and did not believe in putting in little effort, so for every shoot or show he put in 200% and that paid off
so it goes without being said that changgu got a really good response and on his first extended break, he decided to visit the coffee shop
he was both surprised and touched when he saw that there was a section of the coffee shop that had his pictures from magazines framed and hung on the wall, like, that was so sweet of the staff and changgu pretty much bawled his eyes out
another surprise of the sorts was that he met you, who took his position after he left and he kinda stared at you for who knows how long bc you were great with everyone that walked into the coffee shop and he could tell the customers liked you
somehow he managed to hold an actual conversation with you and failed to realize that you were flirting with him and that led to the switching of numbers and two very cute dates
and since the two of you connected so so well, you lost track of time and days passed by really fast and time just wasn’t on his side bc within a few days, it was time for him to go back to work
once he go back in the swing of things, he continued to work hard and tried his best to upload content on his social medias and reminded all of his fans to eat and stay warm/cool
even though his free time was practically nonexistent after everything picked up, he still made time for you and it was really tough at times but he never showed it bc he tried so hard to stay positive
sometimes he gave up but he had you to help him through those tough moments, to calm him down when he could barely form coherent sentences bc of his tears and that made him fall for you even more
and he returned the favor whenever you needed him to let you vent like it didn’t matter if he was about to start a shoot, he was there for you and comforted you as best as he could and he was great at it
of course he went back to visit you and it was the cutest thing ever bc you were both crying bc the distance was the worst and then you hugged and kissed and everything felt okay in that moment
model changgu is just as hard working as he is attractive. super sweet and humble and just wants the best for everyone, including you
Normally I needed something to get into my zone and begin creating. It would either be a nice hot cup of tea next to me or some loud alternative music blasting throughout the room to set the ambience but instead, right now I was met by silence. I did however have a gorgeous individual sitting in front of me to entice my eyes.
Normally I was clad in a t-shirt and my cotton panties, letting that little bit of clothing allow the cool air to seep through my skin as I stared at my canvas for hours, the hair on my arms standing up on end. Instead today I was wearing my work polo, the ‘American Tours’ logo noticeable above my left breast. I couldn’t really dress down into a tee and my undergarments when there was this stranger in front of me.
But was he really a stranger? Not necessarily anymore though he never really was. I always knew who Neymar Jr. was thanks to my brother who was a football enthusiast and I had gotten to know him personally over the last few hours after having to take him around Los Angeles and show him and his friends around the historical landmarks and the interesting parts of the city all tourists seemed to want to visit.
I thought my job, this tour, would go along as all the others would. I’d show them around the city for part of the day, return them to their hotel and we’d continue our journey in the morning the next day.
The first day had nearly went like that until we reached the point where Neymar and his friends were supposed to discard of me. Instead, he invited me to join them for a night out at one of LA’s most exclusive clubs. Even as a resident of the city, I had never been inside of those coveted walls. I had no sort of reputation to get into a club like that but he did and so when he invited me, I couldn’t deny the offer.
Too bad the night hadn’t went as I envisioned it.
I mean he did dance with me a few times, he and Gil, but it was never anything too flirty. That wasn’t the problem though.
The problem was the mass of notifications I woke up to from friends who had sent me links to the TMZ article with my picture plastered on the page, a picture of me and Neymar leaving the club. Of course it looked a bit suspect. I had my hands covering my face as Neymar confidently strode beside me. I guess the cameras had decided to ignore everyone else in the group that was at the club as well. The focus was solely on Neymar and I and it was painfully embarrassing. Just thinking about it made me cringe. Day 2 and I was already probably on his bad side.
“I’m sorry,” I randomly blurted out, stopping the paint brush in my hand from moving against the canvas that had begun to take form with the various lines I had created using the fresh, detailed colors of paint.
My eyes dragged from that page and past to Neymar who sat still in the chair in front of me, strictly following my directions not to move too much until now as he leaned to his left a bit to peer past the easel and towards me. “Why are you apologizing? Did you mess up the painting?” His eyes shone concern and confusion, his jaw flexing a bit and creating a bulge in the lower part of his cheek that made him look irresistibly sexy.
I made note to capture that with my brush but for now my eyes dragged down to my lap. I couldn’t stand to look into those eyes for too long. I already had as I tried to recreate those stunning features onto the empty canvas in front of me. I started with those flat, unarched eyebrows, being sure to draw the furrow of lines between his brows and those slits that interrupted the flow of his left brow but then I was left to move down to the eyes…
They were this brown color but not any bland old shade of brown but a brown enhanced by speckles of a honey shade, overtaken by a deep green lining the outer edges of color.
Part of me wished I had ordered him to turn to the side and allow me to paint him profile-side instead of facing forward so I could avoid becoming enchanted by those deep, sparkling orbs of his. They were magical.
I shook my head finally in response to his question. “No. No,” I reassured. “I just…the blogs and such. I don’t know if you read them but…”
“I don’t. What’s on there?” His eyes seemed to grow deeper, his mouth pouting with a slight slant which enhanced their shape. It drew my attention to his mustache and then to the scruff of his beard that poked through his caramel skin in this rough but delicate way. It was as if you knew behind that manly look, if he were to shave it all away he’d look like a teenage boy all over again.
“They’re claiming I’m your new girlfriend.”
His brows furrowed with confusion. “And you’re apologizing for that because…?”
Because, well, look at me! I’m in no way fit to be on the arm of Neymar da Silva Santos Júnior. That would be an insult to him that I was someone who could even be linked to him.
“I’m no person you want to be connected to.” I shook my head, beginning to restart where I was on this portrait. His nose…
Noses were always the hardest thing for me to paint when I was drawing humans. I don’t know why or how such a simplistic feature was so complex but it seemed as my brush glided across the canvas, it moved effortlessly to form a replication of the bridge of his.
Neymar’s amused chuckle echoed through the hotel room, nearly quiet aside from the conversation between us. “Why? Should I be worried? Are you some sort of criminal?”
I blushed at the accusation though I knew well enough I was no form of criminal. “I’d never be hired to take tourists around if I were. I’m just…I don’t know.” I stopped my thoughts while I was ahead. I wasn’t looking to embarrass myself or pity him into giving me compliments on how I wasn’t all that bad to be linked to. I could do without. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” I giggled.
“Yes. I don’t like people seeing my work or watching me as I do it.”
I thought of my ex, an artist as well, who seemed to enjoy looking at my work only to gloat about how he could have done so much better or could have enhanced the portrait with this detail or that detail. I guess the put-downs and critiques were warranted. He was the one with his work now displayed in galleries across the United States while I was stuck working as a tour guide.
Welcome to the harsh reality of life. Being that arrogant, cocky asshole sometime paid off.
“Well I’m sure you can paint one hundred times better than me. You could draw a stick figure and I’d be amazed.” He broke out into a smile, those teeth shining behind those pink lips and I cursed myself for choosing to draw him mouth-closed.
Ah well, maybe next time.
I let silence overtake the hotel room again as I continued to move my brush against the paper, dabbing into various colors to bring life to the portrait and represent Neymar well. I moved to his hair, that ever-changing style but now he sported a mohawk with strands of his straight brown hair falling over his forehead.
I kept working along that way in silence. It was a minimalistic style portrait. I had really only captured half of his beauty because trying to detail it all would have taken hours but I was satisfied, the outline of the man on the canvas bearing quite the resemblance to the footballer sitting in front of me.
“Done,” I announced. I sat the used brush down carefully into one of the holders and stared at the work in front of me. I was nervous to see his reaction as Neymar quickly got up from his chair and walked over, turning his head when he arrived to my side so that he could see my work.
“Wow,” was all he uttered. It could have been one of those wow’s where he realized I had painted him to be some ugly creature but the gleam in his eyes and the smile that broke apart his lips said otherwise. “It’s amazing. You don’t mind if I take this, do you?”
“No. not at all. It’s yours.” I would have liked to keep it in memory of this moment but maybe I could somehow recreate it. Somehow recreate all of this…
“Mind if I take a stab at it?” He hinted with a motion to the paint brushes and I nodded my approval that he try. “I’ll rip a new sheet.”
“I don’t need the paper,” he quickly insisted and though my eyebrows netted with confusion, he simply bent down and picked up one of the brushes that set in water. Neymar next dabbed the tip lightly in the yellow paint before reaching for my arm, slowly raising it. I didn’t question it and I was thankful I didn’t because soon, the cool brush was slowly sliding against the underside of my arm.
In a weird way it felt as if he was directly touching me, the nerves in my body on edge as a slow tingle grew inside of me. He was delicately moving the brush along my skin and hell, I didn’t care if he was choosing to paint my entire arm in bright yellow paint. I would have stripped down so he could paint every inch of my skin if he so pleased to.
It was as if he could read my mind because he soon dropped the brush to its holder and trailed his fingers in a green color instead, the paint decorating his finger tips and dripping off his nails before he softly trailed them against my neck. I could feel the rise and fall of my chest like some sort of adrenaline was building up within me all because of his movements and the warmth growing within my body at his sensitive touch. I was wishing at that moment he didn’t have paint on his hands so he could touch me where my body longed to feel him, where he could satisfy my cravings all at once.
My breath caught in my throat as we made eye contact, a deep and long staring gaze. I was able to see those delightful orbs again but up close this time and closer than I ever could have imagined being. I didn’t shy away from the intensity this time and I enjoyed hearing his breath flow past his lips.
I had an urge to reach forward and crash those lips into mine and it seemed he had that same urge because within seconds, our noses collided and his lips were pressuring against mine. I gasped, opening my mouth just wide enough for him to slide his tongue inside and I wilted to his demands and met his passion with my own.
His hand rested under my chin while the other paint covered fingers slid under my shirt. I didn’t care about damaging my work polo. I just cared about him finally peeling it from my skin. He met my demands and soon separated our lips so he could pull the shirt over my head and soon followed every other piece of my clothing.
Neymar brought me up from my chair and made me stand while he got rid of his bottoms so he could meet the match of my bare skin. He took my seated position and pulled me into his lap slowly enough for me to slide down onto his member. I adjusted to his lengthy size slowly, biting down on my lip as I felt him fill my insides.
Between the heated kisses, the rise and fall of my body as I moved up and down his member, I watched as he decorated my skin with that damp green paint, dancing his fingers along my back when he wanted to cling to me and when I increased the intensity by drawing my walls tighter around his member.
He hissed with pleasure and my moans became their own soliloquy. My back arched further and further with every movement against him and I placed my hands on his broad shoulders, my eyes taking in the view of his athletic build and that deepened v-line he sported even as he sat hunched over in this seat.
He thrust up every time to meet me mid-stroke, only driving my senses wild and I could feel the sweat beads forming across my forehead. His hands moved along my front, giving my breasts a few gentle squeezes before he was too enticed to resist them. He lowered his mouth towards my nipple, making it so I couldn’t quite rise my body up as high as I was before but I continued to ride him and circle my hips in a rotation.
“Cum for me,” he whispered seductively in my ear and I whimpered with pleasure, unable to hold the satisfaction I was feeling for too much longer but I couldn’t let go just yet. I had to savor this moment. I had to take in all that I could.
My long nails danced along his skin as I enjoyed the warmth of his body, sweat building on him as between my eyes slamming shut when he filled me so beautifully, I snuck glances at the beautiful figure under me.
I was supposed to be the one showing him around, being his tour guide but he was taking me on a ride of his own. Eventually I succumbed to his wishes and I released all that had been building up within me. I let a few curses slip my lips and dug my nails deeper into his muscled back while I continued to work against him to make sure he reached his own peak and he soon followed behind.
I wanted to capture the beautiful sound of that low grunt leaving his mouth once he reached his climax so I could remember it forever. Instead I just collapsed onto his shoulder, my eyes closed until I opened them and noticed the black ink scrawled in cursive on his neck. It was a tattoo I hadn’t replicated in my drawing but was now under my crawling fingers.
“Tudo Passa? What does that mean?” I questioned in a breathy tone. I still hadn’t quite captured my breath from that physical labor.
Like this moment but at least I’d have the paint on me to hold onto for a bit longer.
stiles gets lost on a hiking trail and derek helps him get un-lost
(approx 2′500 words, gen rating)
Stiles is definitely not lost. He’s for sure not lost because he
recognises that rock with the moss shaped like BB-8 on it. So therefore, he
can’t be lost, because he-
Okay. Stiles is lost.
There’s a quick fix for that though which is google maps on his phone.
The app isn’t responsive though. It’s telling him it’s searching for
his GPS location, which is great, but it has been for the past few minutes. The
blue circle just slowly pulsing and taunting
him as it expands and contracts endlessly.
Stiles passes the BB-8 rock for the sixth time and then spins around a
few times and heads in whatever direction he’s facing. It’s as good a strategy
His phone’s on 70% charge so he’s not too worried, but he does want to
get home soon-ish, even if just for his growling stomach (because he misjudged
how long it would take him to walk the trail in his unfit state).
Stiles just keeps walking and staring at his phone with a concentration unrivaled by any moment in his life so far, which is why he’s so taken aback
to be grabbed suddenly by his backpack and pulled onto his side.
He falls on top of someone else’s arm.
“Hey! What the hell,” Stiles yells, shocked. “You can’t just yank
strangers onto their asses. Seriously. What the fuck!”
“You’re almost walked off a fucking cliff. Sorry for stopping it,”
comes a sarcastic, growled reply.
Stiles manages to get himself back on his feet and turns around to see
an attractive man lying on the forest floor with leaves in his thick, dark
hair. Stiles can’t help but appreciate the view for a second before it clicks
what the man just said.
“What cliff?” he asks.
The man rolls his eyes as he stands up, then points over Stiles’
Stiles turns and, lo and behold, he’s standing a few feet away from a
“Holy fucking shit,” he takes several hurried steps back, not liking
the look of the jagged rocks he can see. In true Stiles fashion he ends up
bumping into the guy.
“Watch where you’re going,” he says, pushing Stiles away from him.
“Yeah, definitely will be doing that from now on, thanks.”
“Whatever.” The guy adjusts his backpack straps and then looks Stiles
over with a slightly bored expression. “Tip for you, don’t look at your phone
when you’re hiking. You’ll trip.”
“Are you saying that about me specifically, or hikers in general?”
The man eyes Stiles again, then says with his chin uplifted, “You
“I’d say I’m offended, but if you knew me you’d know that is actually
The guy barely smiles. In fact, he looks like he’s starting to regret
saving Stiles from going headfirst over a cliff.
There’s an awkward moment where Stiles isn’t sure whether he should try
and keep up the conversation or extricate himself. The other guy makes the
decision for Stiles when he nods his head and then turns around and starts
Stiles takes a moment to stare at his ass before it hits him.
“Hey! Hey, guy. Wait a sec.” Stiles can hear the guy’s sigh even over
the sound of his feet crunching twigs as he jogs to catch up with him. “So,
look, the thing with the phone and staring at it and almost walking off a cliff
is because I’m lost. And I was trying to use the GPS to get myself back to my
car, but the blue dot was just–”
“There’s no cell reception in this far,” the guy says, turning to
“Yes. I got that,” Stiles replies bluntly, before realising he’s
offending what could be his best ticket home. “What I mean to say is, you look
like you know where you are, and I do not, so… could you show me the way back to
The guy stares at Stiles but Stiles can’t back down.
He honestly thinks the man would have left him stranded there if his
stomach did not choose that moment to make its hunger known.
Stiles presses his hands into his abdomen like that will dampen the
sound, which of course does nothing but draw more attention to it. Stiles
watches as the guy flicks his eyes down.
“How long have you been walking out here?”
Stiles checks the time on his watch. “Almost four hours.”
“And you planned to be here…?”
“No more than two.”
“Right.” The guy looks off for a moment, thinking it over. Stiles
crosses his fingers and toes, hoping that this man will take further pity on
him and let him be like a little duckling, and follow him home. “Alright, okay.
I can take you back.”
Stiles lets out a massive sigh and drops his hands. “Thanks so much
man,” he smiles relieved, “you’re my saviour. Twice. I owe you two lifetimes
worth of debt.”
Stiles shuts his mouth sheepishly when the guy shoots him a look. He
starts walking and Stiles falls into step beside him.
note: yoo this is the longest thing ive ever written on this account im so happy w it so please come talk to me about it i cRAVE FEEDBACK
pairing: calum and y/n
word count: 3.8k (yeAHHH BOIII)
Calum was the type of guy to hit it and quit it, but in the nicest way possible. He’d be sweet with them, try to get it through their head that they were nothing more than a fuck, and that it wasn’t them, it was Calum who was incapable of reciprocating feelings. Even if he did state that this was always a one time thing, maybe a couple more times if it was really good, some girls really did fall in love with him, at least that’s what he thought.