Fpe Oliver Fanart Novels & Stories

"No way. You deal with it." "Please-" but was cut by Olly's girly scream. "What the actual fuck?!" Guess he finally saw the detailed drawing of a certain part of the male anatomy that Tay had so kindly put all over his forehead. Oliver came back, his eyes burning as he took in the marker on the short girl's outstretched palm. "You." There was no point in holding back now so as Nate and I doubled in laugher as Olly chased the yelling girl just as Kevin's car came back.

Ollie My life could never get better than this. Oliver Lance thought quietly to himself as he glanced around the VIP section of the club. He had a voluptuous blonde girl under one arm and a petite brunette under the other. He didn't really know either of them, since he had met them just five minutes before at the bar. But that really didn't bother him. Because in addition to the two beauties, he was surrounded by friends and fans, drinking expensive champagne and smoking expensive cigars. He felt like a god; powerful and loved by all.

Is it because I am already mature to this type of thing or is it just me lacking about cute stuff? “Take a look at this” Oliver called me by waving his hand from the corner. I went there and I saw what he was looking for. “Wow” was the only thing I could say at this moment. It is a resin from my favorite anime. “Want to buy it?” Oliver asked. I am already fetching my wallet inside my pocket but Oliver stops me. “Let me pay for it.”

I thought it, but didn’t dare say it out loud. She wasn’t done. With a mischievous grin, she reached under her bed and pulled out a framed painting. She held it up proudly. I nearly screamed. It was Leo—naked—being kissed by some fantasy-looking man with silver hair and inhumanly sharp features. Olive’s eyes gleamed. “Isn’t it beautiful? I bought this artwork for two hundred bucks. He already looks unrealistic… so I mostly ship him with fiction characters.” My jaw dropped. “So bad we still don’t know what his face looks like,” she sighed dreamily, stroking the frame. “But maybe one day…”

Curiosity got the best of me and like a little child I tried to peek over Narissa’s shoulder, to see who this person was. Green Blue eyes stare back at me, his golden-honey hair slicked back, and his chin covered in a faint that cut nicely along his jawline forming into a smirk as I assessed him. Oliver freaking Steward… Boy, did he clean up good. When I saw him last a few hours ago he was covered in dirt, blood, and a whole heap of other stuff that I barely recognized him. The eyes, his eyes confuse me, I couldn’t place why they look so familiar before, maybe it’s the mate bond playing tricks on me, but his eyes, I know I’ve seen them before.

He said, referring to the combat that happened minutes ago. “Ofcourse,” the corner of Father's lips curved up. He directed his hand to the both female wolvens beside Alpha Reuel. “And this is the Skylarron’s Luna, Elena and their daughter, Stella.” “Pleasure to meet you, Oliver” Elena waved her hand to stop me from bowing my head to her. “I must say the description about your…beauty do not do you justice.” I faked a smile, hoping it doesn't come out as awkward as I felt. Elena wore a smile that brightened her face warmly. Her dark hair was swept to the back, braided and held with pins. “The pleasure is mine, Luna Elena.”

Sasha's eyes widened as she unwrapped the package to reveal a stunning painting of her. "Oh my God," Sasha breathed. There was a card attached. I watched as she read it. "What does it say?" Zella asked gently. "It's from Oliver." Sasha's voice was thick. "He says: 'Congratulations, Sasha. I'm so proud of you.” “Aww look at that, he remembered!” Zella gushed. Oliver had been in Paris for a while, and the distance had been good for him. He was an art collector and helped young artists get gigs. He had started therapy with a new doctor, and he was doing fine. I had weekly reports of him sent to me.

"What the bloody hell is this?" "An invitation," he muttered. Of course, he didn't take the trouble of waiting for a formal invitation to discuss things. "Do you read?" Asshole. I breathed through my nostrils, head still down. "I'm busy." He ignored the brush-off, moving a bit like he owned the place—and he kinda did? "Busy doing what? Keeping my fiancé on edge?" My stomach tightened. "Fuck off." Oliver just laughed, low and amused. "Easy does it," he said, though the glint of his eye said otherwise. "A private art thing. Schmoozing. Champagne. Pretending to care about abstract art. You know, corporate crap. Come with me."

However, they did not wish to dwell on the matter. Oliver stood on the westernmost side of the battle platform. The spring breeze blew on his robe. With his hands folded behind his back, Oliver looked like a prince. The only thing he lacked now was a folding fan. Compared to his appearance of strolling leisurely in a courtyard, Fane looked ordinary and plain. He just stood there quietly, without any movement or expression, as if the battle that was about to take place was just as normal as sitting down for lunch.

Is he a fan? “Fans are not permitted to ask autographs at school,” Raven voices as she puts down her phone and eyes the guy with head to toe. I hiss at her. “That's rude, Raven,” I look back at the male. “Can I help you?” He nibbles on his bottom lips and then retorts, rubbing his hands in front of him. I almost coo at how cute he looks. “I would love an autograph; I'm a big fan. I'm Oliver by the way and we share a few classes. I've watched you for a long time but never been this bold,” he pauses and looks at the floor. I glance at Raven and back.