Cancel, Continue – Two
Author’s note: This is part two of a Coliver!College AU that I posted a while ago. There will be more of this verse but it may take a little while. Apologies in advance.+
Oliver can feel the warm sunlight dancing across his eyelids but he turns his face away, burying it deeper in the pillow, blocking out both the light and the morning it brings. He can feel a restlessness stirring in his arms and legs, the need to stretch inactive muscles, but does his best to ignore both. Keeping his eyes firmly closed and clinging desperately to sleep, Oliver’s not ready to let this night’s dream go just yet.
He’s having one of the good ones. He’s trailing light fingertips over the breadth of a chest, running a hand down the smooth line of a thigh, biting at the pulse point of a neck while circling fingers over a hardening length. The body is faceless, head constantly turning away from Oliver’s seeking lips, but it doesn’t matter. Oliver knows those hands, those arms, the line of that back; he’s well familiar with that body and the glorious man it belongs to.
The face of the dream man turns and there he is.
Connor. It’s always Connor.
Oliver lets Connor’s face come into focus, mouth smiling a tad too wide and laughter sparkling in those eyes Oliver adores, and allows himself to remain in the haze between sleep and wakefulness for just a moment. Just a moment of Connor beaming at him, looking at him with love and adoration, looking at Oliver like they actually mean something to each other, before opening his eyes and accepting the morning. Because, in Oliver’s opinion, it’s one thing to have the occasional inappropriate dream about your best friend, to company of course, the horribly overgrown crush you have on him, it’s quite another to actively think about kissing the bolt of Connor’s jaw or remaining in a dream that would make looking Connor in the eyes difficult.
Tag: to read
Could you do a fic about Oliver having some MAJOR FEELS about the hat Connor gave him? Pwetty please.
So, Nonny, I’ve been thinking about this since you sent it and I don’t have a ficlet ficlet but this did give me a lot of feelings. Like….
Oliver wears the hat all the time in the winter. One day Connor speaks up, “You know, you don’t have to wear that? We can get you a different one? I mean—” “No,” Oliver smiles and tugs it down over his ears, “I like it.” Connor is ridiculously pleased.
On a day that Oliver is glad to see the end of, he catches the hat on his keys as he pulls it out of his bag and pulls out one of the stitches. He’s unsure what to do as he eyes the thread sticking out. Will it get worse if he pulls it? Can he just push it back in? A coworker on the elevator with him glances over, “You can just pull it back in.” Oliver just, sort of, shrugs in confusion and she holds out a hand, “I can show you?” He hesitates before handing it over and she gently pulls the stitch back into place. “There,” she tugs a little on the rest of the hat. “Good as new.” “Thank you,” Oliver loving runs a thumb over the now fixed thread. “It was a gift,” he explains. “Say no more!” She digs in her bag for a scarf that is lopsided and uneven, with more than a few obvious holes, in a neon green that hurts his eyes. “I understand completely,” she says with a smile as she wraps the scarf around her neck.
And finally…
It’s brought along on their first trip to Michigan for Oliver to meet Connor’s family for Thanksgiving. It’s warm for late November in Michigan and he doesn’t really need it but Oliver still dons the hat and his hand is clammy in Connor’s.
“It’s going to be great,” Connor reassures. “They’re gonna love you.”
They walk into a mess of family and noise and conversation and kids running around that quickly fades when everyone sees that “Connor’s boyfriend’s here!” Oliver smiles and gives a little wave and feels utterly ridiculous.
An older woman, who has got to be Grammy Walsh, approaches them in the foyer. She tilts her head to the side as she sizes Oliver up. “I made that,” she says, pointing to the hat; it’s a statement but her voice lifts a little at the end with question and she turns to her grandson.
“Oh, yeah.” Connor looks at his shoes and coughs. “I—uh—I gave it to Oliver. Grammy, this is Oliver.”
“I figured,” she smirks a little as she says it and Oliver’s struck by how much Connor resembles her. Through the grey fly-aways and laugh lines, her eyes are dancing with the same mischief that Connor’s often contain. She leans in as if to confide in Oliver but her voice still carries through the room, “It looks much better on you.”
“Thanks Grams,” Connor huffs.
“Oh—you hush,” she swats him lightly on the arm. “You gave away my present. Now, Oliver, it’s very nice to meet you.” She takes one of his hands in both of hers.
“It’s very nice to meet you too, Mrs. Walsh,” Oliver says.
“No, that won’t do. You come here.” She pulls him in for a hug and kisses his cheek. “There. That’s better.” She pokes him in the chest. “You call me Grammy, got it?” Oliver nods. “Good.”
They stand there in the foyer another beat, with Grammy Walsh smiling at Oliver and her wonderful hat still on his head, before she pipes up again. “We are going to take a picture! You and me and my hat.” She turns to Connor. “Where’s my purse? I need the phone.”
“I don’t—we just got here, Grams,” Connor explains.
“I don’t care. Go find your mother. She took it. I want to take—what was it called?—a selfie! I want to take a selfie with your man, here.”
Connor looks at her dumbfounded, “How do you know what a selfie is?”
“I am very up on things!” She turns to Oliver, “I’m on Facebook, you know?”
Eventually, Connor does his duty as a grandson and tracks down her phone but she swats his hands away when he offers to take the picture. “I know how. Gemma showed me.” She squints at the phone. “Where’s that button?”
A week later, Connor’s mom texts him a picture of his grandmother’s fridge; it’s a wall of family photos dating back to when his dad was in diapers. And there, amid the pictures of his cousin’s spouses and various great-grandchildren, is a picture of the three of them. It’s one of the ones Connor’s mom took with her digital camera after his grandmother gave up on the idea of a selfie because she couldn’t find that button Gemma told her about and refused to let anyone help her.
Connor and Oliver have each thrown an arm around his grandmother wedged between them; she is beaming up at Oliver, who is smiling adoringly down at her, and Connor is grinning like an idiot at the two of them.
Grammy is showing that picture to everyone, his mom’s text reads. Three visitors today and they’ve all gotten the speech. It goes: ‘that’s my grandson and that’s Oliver and that’s my hat.’
The photo is taken down years later, after she passes, and moves to a prominent place on their own fridge, where they have started assembling their own wall of family photos of birthdays and vacations and family parties and the first day of school.
“It was a summer fling,” Connor tells his friends at the lunch table. “He was hot and I was horny and that’s that.”
Michaela rolls her eyes. “Classy as ever, Connor.”
Asher raises his hand for a high five. Connor keeps both hands on the table, not feeling particularly proud of the lie. Oliver had been the best thing that ever happened to him. He’d been thrilled when he first heard Oliver transferred here, that their summer love didn’t have to end. But then he remembered himself. Maybe Con could love Oliver, but Connor Walsh was a cool, popular playboy with a persona to maintain. He didn’t love anyone but himself.
It’s Laurel who shakes her head and mouths, Behind you.
Connor’s heart starts sinking before he ever turns around. When he does, when he sees Oliver standing a few feet away holding a lunch tray, tears in his eyes, his heart is already on the floor.
“That’s all I am to you?” Oliver asks, words shaky, bottom lip trembling. He doesn’t wait for an answer. “You said… Back there, at the beach…” He blinks and the tears fall and Connor hates himself.
So, what do I do when fighting a migraine and exhausted? Not choreograph. Not write this stupid essay due next week. Not sleep. Nope. Instead I write Coliver. Hope someone out there enjoys it!
“Hah-mpt’tiu!
Hah-mpt’tiu! Hah… hah… hah’mpt’tiu’mpt’tiu-hah-IESHU!”“You know, you’re gonna blow an eardrum sneezing like that.”
Connor slid his keys across the bench as he fell into the apartment, grimacing
at the gurgling blow from Oliver’s nose. Poor thing had been hit by a pretty
nasty cold a week ago and was apparently still recovering. “Bless you, by the
way. How are you feeling?”Oliver’s eyes fluttered shut as he shook his head, but he
smiled regardless. “Better, believe it or not.” He spun quickly, resting
against the bench beside Connor with practised ease, and Connor pretended not
to notice how the waistband of his tracksuit pants – makeshift pyjamas – sat
just that little bit more loosely. Oliver rested his head against Connor’s neck
– remarkably cooler, at last… Good news for Ol, not so much for Connor. “How
about you?”“Fine,” he mumbled – though he could barely convince himself
of the fact, and it didn’t slip past his boyfriend.“Con…”
could you PLEASE write a hs au where connor’s the most popular kid in school and everyone literally worships the ground he walks on and oliver’s friends dare him into asking connor out? thank you so much!
I know this is something that’s been done many times before, so I’m sorry if it ends up being similar to other works out there! It’s certainly not my intention. I’ll try to make it different.
Look at him, walking down the hallway like he owns the place. He makes everyone stop whatever they’re doing to look at him, hoping they’ll get that Connor Walsh smile thrown their way.
Oliver huffs and looks away while his friends keep on staring at the guy.
“Whenever you guys are ready to stop drooling, I’ll be in the library starting on our group work.”
He closes the door to his locker, throwing the strap of his messenger bag over his shoulder. As he walks past the frozen bodies of blushing girls and boys alike, looking like this amazing mystical creature decided to grace them with his presence, he rolls his eyes and speeds up.
Prompt from theexistencegame for this list of AUs. I picked the first oneand sorry that it’s not really a fic and more of just a mess of ideas for a possible fic….
“Hey, we hooked up last night and it turns out your my child’s teacher” AU
Oliver could have sworn he was over his whole one-night stand phase by now. I mean, he’s in his forties (late forties if he’s being really honest). He’s got a mortgage and a 401K and a seven-year-old and a bald spot and a dog and drives a sensible car with airbags that has room in the back for Ryan’s soccer shit and the kids he takes in carpools.
Last night was just a…moment of weakness. Ryan is with his other father, Andrew, Oliver’s ex, this weekend for–get this!–his ex’s wedding. Yes, Andrew, aka: the jackass who cheated on Oliver all those years ago is actually marrying his lover. The two people who ruined his life are probably slow dancing to I Will Always Love You or some other terrible song while Oliver is slowly getting hammered on over-priced cocktails. He could have spent the night getting drunk at his own home but the house had seemed too empty without Ryan sprawled on the couch playing Mario Kart.
So here he is, getting drunk, alone, in a bar he’s never even been to (he hasn’t really felt the need to go out in the years since he finally kicked doucheface out – he’s been too busy with Ryan), when up walks this guy. This incredibly hot, (ridiculously young looking) guy. He says his name is Connor and he teaches second-grade (and he isn’t really as young as Oliver first thought), and he smiles like Oliver is the funniest man he’s ever met. Two drinks later and they are making out in their booth. Another drink and they are embarrassing themselves in the back of a cab.
The next morning, Oliver’s knees pop as he gets out of bed. Looking down at Connor’s back as he makes his way to the bathroom, Oliver smiles to himself. In the shower, he lets the water soothe sore muscles and smiles again, absurdly proud. He might not have gone out that much since Andrew and neither has he been a monk but, even still, who would have thought he still had such upper body strength?
The breakfast they share is not even a little bit awkward (a benefit of being older and accepting that the mornings after one-night-stands are only as uncomfortable as you want them to be). It seems almost normal as they share the Sunday paper. Connor gets up to help himself to more orange juice from the fridge and Oliver asks him to grab the creamer while he’s up.
Since they both left their cars at the bar last night, they end up sharing a cab back and linger in the parking lot; neither really ready to say goodbye but also not wanting to come off too eager. Eventually, Connor caves and asks Oliver for his phone number.
They text off and on over the next few days, each dancing over actually asking the other out. Then Oliver walks into Ryan’s parent-teacher night and there Connor is. At the front of the room – talking to Andrew of all people – and smiling that smile that Oliver has spent too much time thinking about over the last few days.
Oliver finds Ryan’s desk and Andrew pulls up a chair next to him. They exchange nods and some small talk about the wedding (regardless of Oliver’s personal feelings towards him, he can’t fault Andrew for his commitment to their son) before Connor goes into his spiel about what Mr. Walsh’s classroom is going to be like this year.
Oliver tries to be subtle as he hangs back once parent night has wrapped up. He wants a word alone with Connor and he doesn’t think this is something he could do over text. Finally, the last parent leaves.
“Hey,” Oliver says, rocking back on his heels.
“Hey, yourself.” Connor grins.
You Are In Love
Ok, so every time I hear You Are In Love by Taylor Swift (like, a lot), I think of Coliver. For a little while I’ve wanted to write something based on the lyrics in the song surrounding Coliver but have had a “break” due to life being a huge butt. I hope it makes sense and comes across how it does in my mind, though I feel like it is just awful lol. But yeah, it is in Oliver’s perspective, set since he tested positive. Ok, enough rambling! Hope you enjoy :]
Coliver Fic: things you said before we were happy
Note: I totally failed at the prompt which was “things you said when we were the happiest we ever were” think of this as a prequel. This is right before that happiness.
Oliver brings it up apropos of nothing. “I think you should go back to seeing other
people.”“Really,”
Connor let’s his fork clatter on to the plate and takes mean satisfaction in
the way Oliver flinches. “Well that’s that then. Why don’t you get me a gift
basket of pills and needles while you’re at it?”Olive
glares, “I told you not to say manipulative shit like that anymore.”“Exactly.”
“Exactly
what, Connor.” Oliver throws down his own fork.“I told
you not to say shit like that either. That we’re done, like I’m better off
whoring around or like you’re dying. None of those are true.”Oliver
huffs through his nose and picks up his fork. “I don’t love you anymore.”“Bullshit,”
Connor spits out as he stabs back at his dinner.“You’re
at risk every day you spend here.” He says earnestly, looking Connor in the
eye.Connor
meets his gaze. “Ignorant bullshit.”“Connor,”
he takes his hand, “I don’t want you to be here out of guilt. I’d feel better
if I knew you were safe. I love you. All of that is true.”“That,”
Connor concedes with a nod, “that’s all true. That I believe. And I’m not going
anywhere. So what’s next?”“You’re
serious.”“I’m
eating kale, Oliver.” Connor says with a tiny smirk. “Do I not seem serious to
you?”“Fine.”
Oliver takes a deep breath. “Then I guess… I guess we’ll figure this out.”
Hi! Can you write coliver arguing over which movie to see?
(Is that you, wordsputtopaper?)
It has become something of a tradition…
“No, Oliver. The poster has aliens and a spaceship. Remember the last time? Because I do. Two hours of alien warfare that didn’t even make any sense.”
“It made sense.”
“It didn’t make sense if you fell asleep five minutes in and then woke up in the middle of a battle scene.”
“Everyone at work loved it. Laurel said it was the best movie she’s seen in months.”
“I thought that was in German?”
“It is. There are subtitles.”
“….Do I even have to say it?”
“I heard it was a front runner for the Oscars!”
“Pass!”
“Wait! Isn’t that a comic book character?!?!”
“You tricked me! That was educational! I LEARNED SOMETHING! DID YOU FORGET ABOUT OUR NO DOCUMENTARY RULE?”
“New rule. No sequels.”
“I can’t believe you want me to pay to see a rom com.”
“I know. But Michaela picked it.”
“But it’s a rom com, Con. Two hours of straight people finding love.”
“I’ll make it up to you.”
“I’m holding you to that.”
“So, I know you hate musicals BUT…”
“I thought the Muppets were for kids…”
“The Muppets are for everyone. Besides, it’s nostalgic.”
“For what?”
“For when you were a kid. You know. Muppet Babies and Muppets Take Manhattan and all those.”
*dumbfounded look* “How old are you?!?”
“What do you mean? You watched the Muppets, right?”
*shakes head* “My sister watched them…”
“How young are you?!?”
And what a lovely tradition it is…
Could you do a little coliver fic where Oliver notices Connor doing the sweater paws?
They’re out clothes shopping together, when Connor picks up a dark gray sweater he kind of likes. He holds it to his chest and turns to Oliver searching the rack beside him.
“What do you think?”
Oliver only gives it a passing glance before reaching for one of the sleeves. “I don’t know, Con. It doesn’t have much give.”
Connor lifts one curious brow. “What exactly do you think I’ll be doing with this sweater, Ollie?”
Oliver rolls his eyes. He laughs but it stays soft, fond. “When you worry, you pull at the sleeves.”
“Do not.” Connor tenses. How had Oliver noticed that?
“You do too. You stretch them down over your hands.” Oliver shrugs and turns back to the rack. “It’s not a big deal. It’s actually pretty cute.”
“Cute?” Connor asks, though his irritation eases away when a blush reddens Oliver’s cheeks.
Connor pretends to look at the sweater until Oliver crosses to another aisle. Then he tugs at the sleeves and, yeah, Oliver’s totally right. Connor likes stretchy sleeves on his sweaters. As nice as this one looks, it’d probably just sit in the back of his closet. He puts it back on the shelf.
“Okay,” comes Oliver’s voice from the other aisle. “I think I found something but I need you to keep an open mind about it.”
The monstrosity Oliver brings over from the clearance rack is construction cone orange and fuzzy. Yet before Connor can say hell no, Oliver is giving him the puppy eyes and holding out one sleeve. “Try it.”
It’s super soft with a nice give. It’s perfect in every way really except – orange.
“I could never pull this off,” Connor says, still holding onto the sleeve.
“You could.” Oliver gives Connor a quick once over that makes Connor hot under the collar. How that’s possible with an orange monstrosity between them is a testament to Oliver’s outright sexiness. “But you could always just wear it at home instead.”
Connor considers it, curled up on the couch in his sweater, sleeves down over his hands, with Oliver in his arms. Though his decision was practically cemented the minute Oliver called their apartment home.
“You can’t tell anyone.”
Oliver crosses his heart.
lanablack 