Anchors - Ch 1/?
Title: Anchors - Chapter 1/?
Author: x_cheapnovelty
Pairing: Alex Gaskarth/Oli Sykes, eventual Sykecest
Rating: NC-17 to be safe
Summary: Oli's really emo.
Warnings: Homoerotica and my colourful vocabulary.
Disclaimer: Ridiculously imaginary
Dedications: lolgemily because she's got it rough at the moment.
Author Notes: I started writing this in May and rediscovered it lurking in my documents.
I know Oli Sykes isn't exactly a popular pairing anymore but idgaf.
Title and cut text goes to The Amity Affliction
It’s too cluttered.
It’s too fucking cluttered and Oliver can’t stand the clutter anymore. He cleans everything off his desk in one swipe and shit is just clattering to the floor. Just stuff. So much fucking stuff. Headphones, a straightener, Sharpies, eyeliner and a fucking cactus all fall to the ground but nothing had been achieved except making more of a mess than was there originally. Oliver yells “FUCK” really fucking loudly and rips his quilt off the bed. The quilt meets the same fate as the cactus.
“Oliver, what in Merlin’s name are you fuckin’ doin’ in ‘ere?” Tom asks, entering the room without knocking. This pisses Oliver right off so he chucks a pillow at Tom’s head.
“It’s too fucking clut’ered!” Oli yells, kicking a water bottle at the wall, and is quite satisfied that a solid thunk resounds as it hits the wall.
“It’s cluttered?” Tom asks, raising his eyebrows.
“Cluttered!” Oli yells again, this time almost ripping his hair out. Tom walks up to Oli and pins his hands to his sides.
“Get a fuckin’ grip and go for a fucking stroll in the park or some shit.”
“I hate it ‘ere.” There it is; Oli finally said it. What’s been bothering him for weeks: he fucking hates America. It’s too bright, too hot and the accent ticks him right off. He misses English humour, English, Scottish, Irish and Welsh accents and he misses pubs. He misses the lower drinking age and the crooked streets. He’s just homesick, fullstop.
“Wha’?”
“I... I really jus’ fuckin’ hate... America.”
“I though’ you liked it.”
“I did at first... bu’ now it’s just... too American. You know?”
Tom just looks at Oli. “Gee, you think it’s too American ‘ere do ya?”
“Shove off, Tom you tosser.”
“Get over yourself, Oliver you fuckin’ emo,” Tom says and walks out of the room, slamming the door. Oli can hear him slam his own door as well. Right then, Oli thinks to himself before grabbing his phone, wallet and keys and slamming out of the house, walking the familiar path to the house of the only other person here who understands him (that he isn’t related to). Alexander.
Oli reaches Alex’s doorstep and knocks, hoping he answers, because fuck, if he has to force being polite to a parent... shit will go down. Thankfully, as Oli was thinking this thought, Alexander opened the door and Oli broke into a grin. “Oliver you big berk, what you doin’?” Alex greeted him and a warm sense of familiarity washed over Oli as Alex spoke in his lovely, fantastic British accent.
“Had to get out of the ‘ouse, y’know?”
“Oh I know,” he answered, reverting back to his usual American twang, to Oli’s disappointment. “Come in, I wasn’t doing anything either.”
“Fuckin’ Saturday afternoon and neiver of us has anythin’ to fuckin’ do tonight.” Oli says, entering the cosy home.
“D’you just wanna get fucked tonight, you an’ me?” Alex asks, English again.
“Boy do I,” Oli answers, clapping Alex on the back.
Author: x_cheapnovelty
Pairing: Alex Gaskarth/Oli Sykes, eventual Sykecest
Rating: NC-17 to be safe
Summary: Oli's really emo.
Warnings: Homoerotica and my colourful vocabulary.
Disclaimer: Ridiculously imaginary
Dedications: lolgemily because she's got it rough at the moment.
Author Notes: I started writing this in May and rediscovered it lurking in my documents.
I know Oli Sykes isn't exactly a popular pairing anymore but idgaf.
Title and cut text goes to The Amity Affliction
It’s too cluttered.
It’s too fucking cluttered and Oliver can’t stand the clutter anymore. He cleans everything off his desk in one swipe and shit is just clattering to the floor. Just stuff. So much fucking stuff. Headphones, a straightener, Sharpies, eyeliner and a fucking cactus all fall to the ground but nothing had been achieved except making more of a mess than was there originally. Oliver yells “FUCK” really fucking loudly and rips his quilt off the bed. The quilt meets the same fate as the cactus.
“Oliver, what in Merlin’s name are you fuckin’ doin’ in ‘ere?” Tom asks, entering the room without knocking. This pisses Oliver right off so he chucks a pillow at Tom’s head.
“It’s too fucking clut’ered!” Oli yells, kicking a water bottle at the wall, and is quite satisfied that a solid thunk resounds as it hits the wall.
“It’s cluttered?” Tom asks, raising his eyebrows.
“Cluttered!” Oli yells again, this time almost ripping his hair out. Tom walks up to Oli and pins his hands to his sides.
“Get a fuckin’ grip and go for a fucking stroll in the park or some shit.”
“I hate it ‘ere.” There it is; Oli finally said it. What’s been bothering him for weeks: he fucking hates America. It’s too bright, too hot and the accent ticks him right off. He misses English humour, English, Scottish, Irish and Welsh accents and he misses pubs. He misses the lower drinking age and the crooked streets. He’s just homesick, fullstop.
“Wha’?”
“I... I really jus’ fuckin’ hate... America.”
“I though’ you liked it.”
“I did at first... bu’ now it’s just... too American. You know?”
Tom just looks at Oli. “Gee, you think it’s too American ‘ere do ya?”
“Shove off, Tom you tosser.”
“Get over yourself, Oliver you fuckin’ emo,” Tom says and walks out of the room, slamming the door. Oli can hear him slam his own door as well. Right then, Oli thinks to himself before grabbing his phone, wallet and keys and slamming out of the house, walking the familiar path to the house of the only other person here who understands him (that he isn’t related to). Alexander.
Oli reaches Alex’s doorstep and knocks, hoping he answers, because fuck, if he has to force being polite to a parent... shit will go down. Thankfully, as Oli was thinking this thought, Alexander opened the door and Oli broke into a grin. “Oliver you big berk, what you doin’?” Alex greeted him and a warm sense of familiarity washed over Oli as Alex spoke in his lovely, fantastic British accent.
“Had to get out of the ‘ouse, y’know?”
“Oh I know,” he answered, reverting back to his usual American twang, to Oli’s disappointment. “Come in, I wasn’t doing anything either.”
“Fuckin’ Saturday afternoon and neiver of us has anythin’ to fuckin’ do tonight.” Oli says, entering the cosy home.
“D’you just wanna get fucked tonight, you an’ me?” Alex asks, English again.
“Boy do I,” Oli answers, clapping Alex on the back.