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refinedbuffoonery · 3 years ago

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Looking Through A Window (5)

macriley married undercover au

masterlist.

Admittedly, this is kind of a filler/transition chapter, but I have big plans for this story, and I’m really excited for y’all to read what happens next. Expect an update every weekend this month!

*****

The nightmare sinks its claws deeper as Mac tries to dislodge it. He knows it’s a dream, and Mac tosses and turns as he grapples for control of his mind.

The images in his mind persist. He's back in the Sandbox, but this time Bozer is with him, and Bozer's dying from a bullet wound before Mac can carry him to safety. Mac's had the dream a million times, and it always ends the same way.

I know you won’t let me die, Bozer says. But seconds later, his eyes turn glassy when his soul leaves his body.

Mac’s throat closes, cutting off his oxygen supply, and for a moment he thinks he’s going to follow Bozer into the afterlife.

It’s just a dream. He’s just lucid enough to remind himself of that. Wake up, Mac commands his body. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.

The nightmare won’t let him.

Suddenly a different set of claws grip Mac’s shoulders, and the voice ordering him to wake up isn’t his own. He tries to jerk away, but the claws dig in.

Not claws, Mac realizes. Hands. Slender ones, with long fingers. Nails biting into his skin through his worn t-shirt.

He knows those hands.

“Wake up,” Riley hisses, and it’s enough to finally yank Mac from his dream. Mac’s eyes snap open, automatically scanning his surroundings. The bedroom is pitch black, but Mac can just make out Riley kneeling above him, her tired face twisted in concern. Her hands are on Mac’s shoulders, but not pinning him to the bed like he first thought. Her touch is light, and her thumbs make gentle sweeps across his collarbones. Mac’s own hands find Riley’s forearms, but he doesn’t push her away, nor does she lay back down. “You okay?” she asks.

Mac tries to play it off. “Yeah, bad dream. That’s all.” It’s a bit of an exaggeration, considering that he’s drenched in sweat and the final and most disturbing seconds of the dream are lingering longer than the rest. He knows it’s not real, but Mac can’t quite shake the sick feeling.

Riley exhales, and Mac finds himself mirroring her breathing automatically. Sliding a hand down to her wrist, he presses two fingers into her skin, feeling the steady thrum of her pulse. It’s faster than he expects.

Almost as if in explanation, Riley says, “You scared the shit out of the dog, not to mention me.”

Mac winces, feeling guilty. “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” Slowly, Riley releases him and lays back down, leaving plenty of space between them. Mac misses her touch the instant she lets go. “Want to talk about it?”

That throat-closing feeling returns as Mac contemplates what to tell her. Part of him wants to share, but a bigger part hesitates when the explanation dies on his tongue. “Not really,” he finally says.

“Okay.” Riley says, pausing. “You’re wide awake right now, aren’t you?”

This, at least, he can admit easily. “Yep.”

There’s another long pause, filled only with the soft sound of their exhales. Just when he’s about to tell Riley to stop worrying about him and go back to sleep, she says, “Come here.”

Mac stills. That weird tension still lingers between him and Riley, causing awkward silences and stilted conversations. So this…this is unexpected.

He shouldn't. He really shouldn't. But, her voice is soft and reassuring, and who is he to turn down a free opportunity to cuddle with the woman he loves? Even if it might be a mistake.

As soon as Mac scoots across the bed, Riley pulls him into her side, guiding his head to rest on her non-injured shoulder. Riley’s side of the bed isn’t nearly as warm as his, but her body is soft and Mac likes how they fit together. Mac can’t help but sigh in contentment as Riley lightly scratches his scalp, and he lets an arm settle over her waist. They’ve fallen asleep together plenty of times over the years, but she’s never held him. Not like this. His heart pounds at the intimacy of it all.

But as Mac slowly starts to relax, the pulse in his ear doesn’t slow like it should. Because it’s not his heartbeat he’s hearing.

It’s hers.

Does that mean…?

“So,” Riley says, breaking the silence. “It’s later.”

The realization feels like a slap to the face. That’s why her heart is beating so fast. Not because of their close proximity, but because it’s later and there’s still that unresolved thing hanging between them. Mac’s fleeting hope that Riley’s racing pulse meant something else is nothing more than a fantasy in his head.

Swallowing his disappointment, Mac starts, “Riley, I really am sorry—” She cuts him off.

“Stop. You don’t need to apologize again. I forgave you the first time.” Her fingers sweep behind his ear, making him shiver slightly. “It’s my turn.” Riley takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry for not listening to you. Like, really listening. Your concerns are legit, and I shouldn’t have brushed them aside and followed Matty blindly.”

Oh.

“I hate this situation just as much as you do, and I’m sorry if I made you feel otherwise.” Her voice catches slightly. “Also, I lied to you this morning, in the car. I knew I needed to apologize. I just didn’t know how to say it yet.”

Pointedly ignoring the intimacy of the gesture, Mac brushes his thumb over her ribs in a way he hopes is reassuring. “It’s okay.”

Riley tenses beneath him, and Mac freezes instantly. “It’s not, but thanks for saying that anyway,” she murmurs, relaxing again. Her fingers resume their path through his hair, catching on the occasional tangle.

Mac doesn’t know how to reassure her that it really is okay. So instead he confesses, “Sometimes I hate this job.”

She’s quiet for a few long seconds before responding. “Me too.”

It’s weird voicing it aloud. They’re all painfully aware of the downsides to the job, but rarely does anyone directly mention it. Maybe Riley is on a similar page as him after all.

Mac questions, “Are we doing the right thing? Playing along and letting innocent people get hurt just so we can take down the whole organization at once?” He needs to know her answer…needs confirmation that this whole op isn’t just one massive wrong choice.

“I think the good we do outweighs the bad,” Riley says after a few moments. “At least that’s what I tell myself so I can sleep at night.” She shifts, and for a brief, exhilarating moment, their hips press together before she pushes her knee uncomfortably into his thigh. Mac squirms, trying and failing to find a good position, ultimately taking a chance by slotting his leg between hers. Riley inhales sharply, but she doesn’t push him away. Mac tries not to read into it. Lying like this is intimate and intense and yet so easy. So right.

Mac pushes the heady feeling aside, ignoring the way it crackles in the background, threatening to consume him. They need to have this conversation, without distraction. Even welcome ones.

“Riley, we helped them kill people,” he says, and Riley’s hand stills in his hair.

“We can’t save everyone, Mac."

The thrumming in his body stops so quickly Riley might as well have dumped a bucket of ice water on him.

His heart cracks as she softly repeats, "We just can't." Like maybe she's breaking her own heart too by saying it.

He wants to kiss her chest—to press his lips to her heart in an attempt to soothe the ache there.

Mac understands all too well. It’s not the countless lives they have saved that stick with him, but the few they couldn’t. Zoe, the researcher who drowned in the Arctic to save her students. Jill, who fell victim to one of Murdoc’s murderous games. Charlie, who sacrificed himself so Mac wouldn’t have to choose between saving his friend and saving hundreds of innocent people. Lasky, the nuclear plant engineer who was just doing his job. Mac’s father. His aunt. Jack.

Riley clears her throat. "So, yeah. I think we are doing the right thing. It just sucks.”

Mac agrees, even though he can hardly admit it to himself. But there’s still one thing he doesn’t understand. “I don’t get how Matty seemed so okay with all of this,” he says.

“Come on, Mac. You know Matty hates this just as much as we do. She wouldn’t ask us to play along if she didn’t think it was necessary.” Riley’s fingers resume their steady, sweeping path through his hair, and Mac takes comfort in the gesture.

He sighs. “You sound like Jack.”

“I learned from the best. Don’t tell him I said that,” Riley warns, but Mac can hear the smile in her voice.

He tilts his face toward the ceiling, imagining Jack looking down at them from whatever afterlife he found himself in. “You hear that, old man? She admitted to learning something from you.”

Riley snorts, giving Mac’s hair a sharp tug. “Oh shut up.” She means it to be playful, but it sends a bolt of desire through his body.

It’s too much, with her hand in his hair and their bodies intertwined, and the intimacy may very well burn Mac alive. Every nerve in his body goes on high alert, and his grip on Riley’s rib cage tightens automatically.

“Sleep,” she murmurs, clearly mistaking the tension in his body as coming from somewhere—anywhere—else. Riley is one of the smartest, most perceptive people Mac knows, and yet she has no idea how he feels about her. Maybe that’s a good thing, he reasons. It’s easier that way. Less complicated.

Although full-on front-to-front cuddling isn’t not complicated.

It doesn't take long for the gentle pressure of Riley's fingers to win out, and Mac melts into her touch, letting his body grow heavy. Sleep beckons, and his eyelids flutter shut of their own accord as Riley wraps her free arm around his back, pulling him closer. Again, he thinks she feels like safety.

In his last moments of consciousness, Mac mumbles, “I like this,” before drifting back to sleep.

*****

For the first time, Riley is already out of bed when Mac wakes, and he’s positive it has something to do with the fact that he’s still on her side of the bed.

Cuddling with her was a mistake. Even if it led to the best sleep he’s had in a long time.

Burying his face in Riley’s pillow, Mac takes a deep breath. It smells like her. He hears the front door open and close, and then Riley’s muffled voice fills the apartment. Mac can’t quite pick up what she’s saying, but he thinks she’s on the phone rather than talking to Harley.

Suddenly getting up seems like a daunting task.

Not caring if it makes him a coward, Mac stays in bed, taking the opportunity to study the bedroom decor. This is day nine of the op, and before now Mac never bothered to appreciate the work someone put into setting up the safe house. It’s too modern and minimalist for his taste, but he has to admit it looks nice. The bedroom walls are a soft light gray, with a handful of paintings of different sizes and framed photos of him, Riley, and Harley scattered throughout. More of the photos Bozer took are in the hallway, but Mac’s never given those more than a cursory glance.

Across from the bed sits the single, expensive-looking dresser, with overstuffed drawers that don’t quite shut all the way. One of Riley’s drawers is completely open, and the t-shirt she wore to bed last night hangs haphazardly over the edge.

Mac’s eyes catch on the photo sitting on top of the dresser, beside the plant he keeps forgetting to water. It’s one of the wedding photos, and it’s the only photo Mac has really paid attention to, since he stares at it every day while getting dressed. The photo is of Riley and him slow dancing, and she’s looking at him like he hung the moon. And he’s looking at her the exact same way.

More than anything, Mac wishes it was real.

The bedroom door creaks open, and Mac cranes his neck to see Harley’s fluffy head peek through. She doesn’t enter. Instead, Harley watches him cautiously, almost like she wasn’t expecting him to be awake and is now unsure what to do.

Mac pats the mattress. “It’s okay. Come on.” When she doesn’t move, he adds, “I’m sorry I scared you last night.” His apology must be enough, because Harley jumps on the bed with him. She stands between his outstretched legs as Mac rakes his hands through her fur, scratching her butt the way she likes. “How about I get you a new toy to make up for it?” he asks. Tail wagging, Harley licks his face in approval, and Mac laughs. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Riley raises her voice—she’s complaining about something, although Mac still can’t determine what—and both Mac and Harley turn their attention to the sound.

Harley looks back at him, and Mac starts to think that he wasn’t far off the other day when he noticed Harley playing protector. He smiles softly. “Go check on her.”

Harley jumps off the bed immediately, surprising Mac when she glances back at him on her way out the door.

Still smiling, Mac gets up to start his day.

By the time he emerges from the bedroom, Riley is playing fetch with Harley in the living room while she’s on the phone. Surprised the call has lasted this long, Mac raises his brow, silently asking who she’s talking to, and Riley holds up a finger. One second.

While he’s waiting, Mac wanders into the kitchen in search of breakfast.

Riley’s next throw ricochets off the wall, and the tennis ball hits Mac’s thigh. “What do you mean he’s not in the database?” she shrieks. “Bozer, practically every criminal in the world is in that database.”

Mac freezes midway through unwrapping a muffin.

Riley pinches her nose. “Then run the sketch through the DMV database. The guy who tailed me has to exist somewhere.”

He swallows. “Tailed?”

“Hang on, Boze. Mac just walked in.” Exasperated, Riley moves her phone away from her face. “I took Harley for a walk while you were still asleep, and some guy tailed me. Don’t worry, I lost him long before returning to the apartment.”

Mac bristles. Riley had been in danger, and he was asleep. Why didn’t she tell him where she was going? He tries not to think about all the bad things that could’ve happened. “You think this guy is part of the Patriots?”

Shrugging, Riley says, “That makes the most sense. But it’s hard to know for sure when we don’t have personnel records.”

That’s just one of many problems with this op—no official list of known members of the Patriots. Mac and Riley have no choice but to learn about people the old-fashioned way.

Pinning her phone between her cheek and her shoulder, Riley retrieves the tennis ball from under the couch, her voice muffled as she asks, “Got anything, Boze?” A few seconds later, she groans, but Mac can’t tell whether it’s because of Bozer’s answer or the amount of hair now stuck to the visibly soggy tennis ball in her hands. He makes a mental note to vacuum again. “Thanks for trying,” she says before hanging up.

Treading carefully, Mac asks, “Well?” He doesn’t need to be a genius to know that she’s still rattled, no matter how much she tries to downplay it.

“His name is Peter Morrison, and he has three speeding tickets. That’s it.” Still holding the tennis ball, Riley’s shoulders slump as she sits on the arm of the couch. Confused why she stopped playing, Harley stands between Riley’s legs and whines, nosing Riley’s hand in an attempt to get her to throw the ball again.

When Riley doesn’t oblige her, Mac asks, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” Riley says, but her voice is tight and she bristles when he moves closer. He knows she’s lying—they’ve both been lying a lot recently—but what Mac doesn’t understand is why. He knows why he’s lying, but why does Riley still feel the need to hide how she’s feeling from him?

It’s like the intimacy of last night never happened.

Mac takes the wet, hairy tennis ball from her hands and throws it for Harley. “Do you want a hug or help kicking someone’s ass?” The question earns him a small smile, one that makes Mac’s heart flutter in his chest.

“I was thinking more along the lines of punching someone in the face, but I suppose we can kick them too,” she quips. Mac laughs, and the corners of Riley’s eyes crinkle as her smile widens.

“Sounds like a plan.” Harley brings the ball back and drops it at Mac’s feet. “Last throw,” he tells her, knowing full well it won’t be. Turning his attention back to Riley, he asks, “How’s your shoulder?”

Absent-mindedly, Riley’s fingers trace the outline of a bruise peeking out from beneath her tank top. “It hurts. You grabbed it in your sleep last night, and I almost screamed.”

Mac grimaces. “Sorry.” He wants to ask about last night and make sure they’re okay, but the words refuse to form. “I’m going to call Conrad and make him explain, okay?”

“Okay.” Riley nods. For a second, it seems like she wants to say something more, but she ultimately doesn’t. Honoring her implicit request for space, Mac briefly squeezes her arm as he walks away. The gesture is a promise: I’m here.

*****

“This is unacceptable,” Mac growls at Ethan, later that day. After giving Conrad an earful over the phone, apparently Mac made a big enough fuss to warrant a visit from the leader of the Patriots himself. They meet in public—neutral ground—at a park not unlike the one across the street from Mac and Riley’s apartment. It feels wrong to use the term safe house, since it’s not as safe as they thought.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, James,” Ethan placates. “It’s simply standard business procedure. I’m sure you researched us before formally offering your services.”

Mac barely stops himself from making a face. Oh they researched the Patriots, all right. “Of course we did.” He really should do a better job of holding his snark at bay, but Mac lets it tint his words anyway. “But we didn’t invade individual members’ privacy or threaten anyone’s personal safety.”

“My employee did not and would not have hurt your wife. She was never in danger, I can assure you.”

“And how was she supposed to know that?” He’s borderline yelling, but Mac is too pissed to care. The more Ethan tries to convince him the situation is okay, the more Mac wishes they were closer to the playground so he could strangle Ethan with the chain from the swings. He snarls, “Explain that to me.”

Ethan, it seems, is at a rare loss for words. Mac waits, forcing the other man to fill the silence. “I suppose she wouldn’t have,” Ethan finally admits, although he shows no sign of backing down.

Mac stands. “Don’t let this happen again.” He starts to walk away, content with having the last word, but Mac stops dead in his tracks when Ethan calls after him.

“If you won’t comply with the way we do things, then I guess we’ll just have to find someone else.”

Mac spins on his heel. “That’s bullshit,” he spits. “You need us. You won’t find anyone better, at least not that you can afford, and we both know it. Your organization is small potatoes right now, but with our support, the Patriots could join the big leagues. So it’s up to you to decide whether you’re content with throwing your money at a pipe dream or if you want to actually accomplish something.” Ethan is taller than him, but Mac manages to look down at him anyway—something he learned from Matty. “The choice is yours. Let me know when you’ve made it.”

Without waiting for a response, Mac shoves his hands in his pockets and walks away, praying he didn’t just ruin the whole op.

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#beth writes #looking through a window au #macriley #macgyver #macgyver fanfiction #angus macgyver #riley davis

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vanchlo · 4 years ago

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The Assistant / Chapter Forty-Six, “Be Mine”

*Gif doesn’t belong to me*

**Hello! Thank you so much to those who are still reading this story after all of this time, I appreciate you so much! Little update - I go back to college within the next week, and so I’m going to change my update schedule to Every Monday at 12 pm CST to provide me a little more time to write on the weekends. I will let you all know if I need to change my frequency of updating due to busyness with classes and work. Alas, I won’t know if I need to make this change until I see how busy my schedule is with work and school in the coming weeks. I’ll keep you all updated! I love hearing what you think of the new chapters :-) Have a great night!**

Clickable Links:

- Masterlist feat. all chapters and Character Surveys

- Inspo tag

- Hecky Playlist

- Read on Wattpad

Word Count: 7.9k words

Warnings: Mentions of hospital care

Music Inspo: You’re My Best Friend by Queen (click to listen)

“I know there was something before you. I just can’t remember what it was.”

The last few drops of water plummet into the murky water, leaving ripples around the wrinkled green stems.

“Stop watering the flowers and come and cuddle me.”

“I can’t, bug, y’know that. We’ll get in trouble.”

“I don’t care. Please, Harry?” her whine meets my ears and I can already decipher the pout that accompanies it. “It’s Valentine’s Day.” With my back to her, I see it in my mind and with its beginnings, my denial begins to unravel.

“Fine,” I sigh dramatically, tossing the empty plastic water bottle into the bin. Turning around, the dimple already lives in her left cheek and like so many other times, I have a hard time believing that it’s alive and well all because of me. Or so it seems.

A shock rings true behind my eyes - the fact that I’m here, alive and well, all because of this little one here. And the very same goes for her. My girl, at last. At times, I can’t believe that she could become more beautiful, but at the sight of the flush to her skin, and the wet waves falling down her shoulders, I’m reminded that the possibilities are endless. They spin themselves a new one when a flutter sounds below in my chest at the image of her in a black tee with a picture of Joey from FRIENDS with the words ‘how you doin’ emblazoned on the front, propelling me back to one of the nights on her sofa all of those years ago with her sat in that tee. A blast from the past, indeed.

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” she drawls, sleep coaxing at her lids while she rubs at her eyes. My feet near her and with every step her beauty only intensifies, but so do the purple bruises brandishing her face and neck.

“Nuthin’, jus’ thinkin’ o’ how you’ll be out like a light tha second I start playin’ with yer hair,” I grin, toeing off my Vans Old Skools and pulling back the thick blankets to reveal her long legs clad in what else, besides purple leggings. The dimple found a new residence in her left cheek when she got to take a shower today and put on some old clothes. It made my heart skip a beat to see her looking more like herself in them.

“No, I won’t. I wanna stay awake and talk to you,” she protests, her features falling into the most adorable image of defiance.

“Sure ya won’t, bug,” I giggle, settling onto my back and in a blink, her head is on my chest. Draping the blankets back over us, my legs carefully tangle with hers while my fingers do the same with her damp hair.

With a yawn ghosting over my chest, I welcome her heat that radiates over me until I freeze at the sensation of her trembling body.

“You okay, li’l one?” I murmur, bringing the blankets to her shoulders and rubbing her back through them.

“Yeah, just really cold.”

“Oh, ‘ll keep ya warm, don’t worry,” I hum against her hair, leaving a kiss there.

“Your beard is ticklish,” she titters sleepily, yawning once more.

“Ya, can’t rememba tha last time I shaved. I guess ya got yer wish, jus’ in time fer Valentine’s . . Get some sleep, Becks, and ya can open yer actual present when ya wake up later fer dinna.”

“Okay, good,” is all she says, nuzzling her head into my chest and her body into my side while my fingers trek through her hair. It’s only moments until her breaths slow and her soft snores meet my ears.

“Told ya, bug, a minute flat,” I tease in a whisper, drawing waves on her scalp as a smile tickles at my lips. It’s quickly forgotten when the tip of my finger meets a prickly thread amongst her hair, reminding me all too well of the very thing that almost took her away from me only three days ago. With a painful gulp, I let my eyes fall shut and try to fly off to dreamland with her, but it takes me far too long.

Dreams fleet me, and when I open my eyes to find that the longhand had only moved a few ticks on the clock, I have no reason to wonder why now. That train of thought is hastily abandoned when the heaviness within my arms stirs with a moan.

“Harry, I don’t feel good,” Becks mutters, turning away from me and to the other side of the bed.

“What’s tha matta?”

“Tummy hurts,” she whimpers, the words ripped from her lips as a sob aches to join her sentence. My name plummets from her lips next as I slide out of the bed and over to the doorway, the image of her clutching her stomach burning in my eyes.

The words topple from my tongue and Shannon, the day nurse, nods without missing a beat as a look of concern washes over her features. My feet follow her until ice fills my limbs at her instruction to ‘wait here.’ My hand flies to my hair when she yanks the curtain closed, separating Becks from me as I listen to their two voices. The threads stitching my heart back together strain and then tear at the sound of vomiting coming from behind the sheet of fabric. The ticking inside of my chest quickens and my hands leave hot stripes down my face.

Circles are carved into the floor with my shoes that I grabbed at the last second, worries filling the space between my ears that continue to hear the sound that I know Becks hates with her entire being. And now, so do I, ever so quickly. The desert finds its way back to my throat and wicks of it every drop of moisture left. A heat presses at the backs of my eyes as my head whirls with concern, worry, and possibilities. The warm streams laid upon my cheeks go unnoticed until they fall from my chin and onto my fingers that knead at my lips nervously.

The pounding inside of my chest somersaults when there’s a vibration inside of my pocket, and then a ding on my wrist. Fishing my forgotten phone out, I find that’s it low on battery, but displaying a text.

It’s from my mum.

I haven’t heard from you today. How is she doing love? Xx

The next line of tears make their appearance, falling onto the touchscreen that my thumbs dance across with speed.

good til now. think she’s gettin sick and i can’t be in there…. i feel so helpless mum

A sniffle hums against my finger as I wipe my nose damp with tears, and another one of the sounds drills into my ears. Without asking, I’m reminded of the time she had called me crying while her dad was getting sick after having chemo. It didn’t take me longer than a few seconds to decide to go and be with her, not being able to handle the debilitating helplessness living in her voice while the tears tried to drown it. Only now, do I understand how crippling it feels to not be able to do anything to help, and suddenly, I feel like I’m back in that waiting room. Waiting, and feeling ever so helpless that I can’t go and be with her like that last time, or pick up my phone to hear her voice.

Oh no I’m sorry love. I’m sure it’s nothing too serious, let the nurses help her. They’ll let you back in when she’s better, it shouldn’t be long. She may not want you to see her like that, you never know… It’ll be okay Harry. It sounds like she’s been doing wonderful otherwise xxx

“Harry.”

My name flies into the air a minute later, but once again, it’s not being spoken by the voice I’m craving to hear. Lifting my head, Shannon’s face falls when I meet her eyes.

“She’s okay . . She’s um, vomited a few times, and it seems to have passed, but I left some disposable bags with her if it returns. I cleaned her up and she wanted to be left alone to rest,” she informs me, the amber in her eyes catching the light and melting my insides at the sound of her words. “It may be a side effect from some of her medications, it’s hard to tell, but we’ll keep an eye on it and see if she feels up to dinner later.”

“Oh,” I mumble with a loud sniffle, carding a hand through my tousled hair that seems to take the brunt of my misgivings. “S-She doesn’t want me in there?” I croak, refusing to try and hide the pain that coats my voice.

“I don’t know, she just said that she wanted to be left alone,” she returns with a shrug of her shoulders. That’s all I need to hear, and I ignore the sound of my name from behind me as I walk back into her room blanketed in quiet darkness. Only once have I returned, do I hear the echoed sniffling and whimpers. I try to ignore the new smell battling with the previous antiseptic scent, but it’s difficult to search for the orange blossoms and vanilla amongst it.

Her name is absent from my lips as I round the end of her bed, her shock of dark hair blending into the room. At last, the soft light from the monitors blanket her quiet face before me. My heart sees it too and registers the info, beginning to slow down, tick by tick. My shaking fingers reach out and push back the wispy locks of hair stuck to her sweaty forehead.

“Harry?” she mumbles gently, peeling her wet eyes open to send my heart into a sea of wreckage.

“Hi, my girl. Are ya alright?” I ask quietly, clearing my throat in an attempt to rid my words of the tears that follow them, but it’s futile at most.

“I think, but I threw up. Loads.”

“Tha nurse told me, ‘m sorry, love. I know ‘s no fun, and ya were jus’ fallin’ asleep befo’,” I murmur, tugging the chair closer to me that I fall onto.

“Yeah.”

“Think you’ll be sick again?” I wonder aloud, coasting my fingers through her still wet locks, feeling the beads of sweat across her skin.

“No . . hope not.”

“Me too, li’l one . . You get some rest, ‘kay?” I say, standing to place my lips against her forehead, leaving them with her for several seconds.

“Okay, but I don’t want you seeing me throw up. It’s nasty.”

“‘s okay, bug. I can’t stop lovin’ ya now, jus’ cuz o’ some vomit.”

“You better not,” she mumbles, her words barely audible. A happiness tries at my face while I twirl a piece of her hair around my finger, the familiar scent of her shampoo added to the corral to calm me down.

back with her now, she’s tryin to sleep. i hope that’s the end of it but i dunno. wasnt how i saw myself spending our first valentines day :( even tho im so glad i get to spend it with her at all….

“Happy Valentine’s, Harry,” Becks whispers, her voice ghostlike against my ears. My phone is forgotten on my lap at the sound of her voice, and the dimple falls into my cheek just a tad more.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, my love. Will you be my valentine, Becks?”

“Always,” she yawns, her squished together eyebrows relaxing while the tears dry on her cheeks. “Will you be mine, Harry?”

“'Course, my sweet.”

The biscuits and gravy feel heavy in my stomach, along with the chocolate pudding and strawberries that I went overboard with. A tired smile gleams on my lips when I look down at the container in my hand, holding a piece of three layer chocolate cake for a special somebody of mine.

My steps off of the lift are hurried, despite the fact that she was fast asleep when I left, safe and sound. I’m guessing I couldn’t have gone for longer than fifteen minutes to eat dinner, just like I’d planned. My suspicions are confirmed with a glance at my watch, it’s home screen littered with a string of texts and calls that’s been accumulating the last few days. My absence of motivation to leave her side is quite similar to the lack of longing I feel to open and answer those messages.

The post-surgical floor looks just the same, if not a little darker since I had last been here, fifteen minutes providing little time for change.

Oh, how little I thought I knew about that.

A smile sticks to my lips as I picture the look on her face when I place the chocolate cake in her hand and wish her a happy Valentine’s Day for what must be the fifth time today. It’s ripped from its home and thrown to the ground when I find the curtain is closed to her room, again.

“E’rythin’ alright?” I ask Shannon anxiously. Turning away from her computer, her face hides little from me.

“She’s been vomiting again, it’s best you probably wait out here for a while, and give her some time to recuperate,” she explains, rooting me to the spot instantly, and then with her words she revokes that too.

A quiet nod of mine answers her as do my steps that leave her, the chocolate cake now feeling like a cement block in my sore hands, a burning reminder of what can’t be. The family waiting room returns to me much too soon, but this time, I have it all to myself. At the sight of the very corner I sat in just a few nights ago, tears flood my eyes.

The cake is forgotten on the chair beside me once I fall onto the lumpy cushion, my head instantly finding my hands. Loud, thick sobs escape my lips and rack my body unbeknownst to the controls blaring alarms within my mind. My lips soon sing with pain from the intensity of my teeth sinking into the skin, and the taste of metal soon follows.

The events of the last four days consume me hastily, and leave me with anxious questions that have no answers.

When is this all going to end?

When do I get to bring her home?

Is this vomiting nonsense going to prolong that?

I want to have my Becks back.

None of them compare to the realization that rings true within my skull, and something I completely forgot, it seems.

I almost bloody well lost her. Becks almost died on me.

The tears drench my cheeks at that incessant thought, one that demands to be felt as I press my knuckles against my eyes. Even earlier for the few minutes that it was when this happened last, it was torture being separated from her, and I can’t imagine never getting to see her again. Nevertheless, it doesn’t calm the tides crashing inside of me at the reality of being kept away from her once again, and for who knows how long.

“Hare?” somebody speaks up from beside me, pulling my wet face from my slick hands. “Everything alright, mate? Did something happen?”

Myles.

Question after bleeding question threaten to escape from his eyes and his lips as he stands before me in a neutral gray suit. The reason for his appearance is draped across his shoulder - my messenger bag.

“Ya, I s’pose . . I dunno,” I confess blearily, wiping at my cheeks hastily. “She keeps havin’ vomitin’ episodes. I thought it’d gotten betta earlier, but I came back from dinna and she’s havin’ anotha one. I can’t be in there . . and it fookin’ kills me,” I explain with an accentuating sniffle.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, mate. I’m sure everything’s okay, that sometimes happens with meds. They have loads of side effects, or maybe two aren’t interacting well, you never know. I’m sure her doctors will figure it out and she’ll get over it soon,” he offers, and I can only nod while I wring my hands in my lap. “You look like shit, you know that?”

“Figures, I bloody well feel like it.”

“Have you been sleeping at all on that damn sofa?” he inquires, claiming the other seat beside me.

“Reckon so, but ‘s hard. She wakes up at least a few times a night from nightmares, or jus’ can’t sleep. ‘s betta now, they’ve been givin' her sumthin’ t’ sleep that works.”

“Hare, ya hafta sleep too, y’know. You aren’t any help to her as a bleeding zombie,” he scoffs with disappointment carried in his voice. Talk about the last thing that I need.

“I know, My. ‘m doin’ me best,” I respond, rubbing my hands along my exhausted face, the tears waiting on the sidelines to make a return.

“Well, it seems you should be trying harder. Have you even eaten today?”

“Ya, told ya I jus’ had dinna, and I eat anotha meal earlier in tha day too. ‘m fine, don’t worry ‘bout me, ‘s not important,” I insist, tugging at the collar of my hoodie.

“It doesn’t seem like you’re fine, mate. You gotta take care of yourself too, I reckon. She’d want that, y’know.”

“Shuddup, you dunno what she wants. She doesn’t even know what she bloody wants half o’ tha time - orders carrots fer her side at lunch and then when they get there, she won’t fookin’ eat ‘em,” I complain softly with a shake of my head.

“You’ve been complaining to me for well over two blooming years how much of a stubborn ass she is, that’s nothing new,” Myles jokes.

“Ya go’mme there,” I agree aloud with the first hints of a smile, the first trace of the light behind the storm clouds. “Too bloody stubborn t’ die, eitha.”

“And too stubborn to let some fricken vomiting slow her down, so don’t worry so much, mate. It’s just a small bump in the road, she’ll roll right past it soon enough, and then you’ll get to take her home not long after.”

“I bloody well hope so, ‘s all I can think ‘bout. I don’t think ‘ll be able t’ leave her side even afta that. I dunno how that’ll work,” I comment curiously, twirling my ‘H’ ring around my finger mindlessly.

“Well, just a week shy of dating may be a little early to move in together, but just a little early, I’d say.” I laugh at that and welcome the feeling of his hand patting my back.

“What’d ya tell tha team at tha firm? I s’pose they were surprised t’ see me randomly gone right afta comin’ back from me case.”

“Um, on Tuesday I told ‘em what you wanted me to tell ‘em. I just said that Becky had been in an accident, and that she was alright. Then, I followed up by saying that the two of you had started dating, which was allowed at the firm as long as you kept things professional, and so you’d be with her until the both of you were able to come back. Simple as that,” Myles explains coolly, and yet the fire that radiates from my face pulls my lips into a shy smile.

“Bloody hell, My, what ‘d give t’ have seen tha look on their faces when ya told ‘em we’re datin’.”

“What, like we hadn’t seen it coming, Hare?” he chuckles in disbelief, and to my surprise, I join him. “Rose and I had been rooting for you lot for years, so there were a few smiles and silent cheers, I’m sure. Well, for the dating part, you know. But, everybody was kind and glad to hear she was okay, and Pete’s stepping up in your absence.”

“Good fookin’ luck with that,” I pipe up, turning my head to at last meet his eyes. Our laughs fall in volume and so do our smiling mouths.

“She’ll be alright, Hare, too stubborn to be anything else, like you say. I’m sure this will pass, and that she’ll get to come home soon. Didn’t you say her doc mentioned something about that during rounds this morn’?”

“Ya, by some miracle she said that afta she does some mo’ PT and shows she can get ‘round fine on her ankle, she’s eatin’ good, and her pain ‘s managed by meds that we take home, then there’s no reason she needs t’ stay here anymo’,” I say, the words injecting happiness into his lips, and that of my own. His loud laugh fills the air while his hand claps on my back.

“See, there you go. You said she’s becoming more coherent and her memory is coming back, somewhat unfortunately, and that her incisions are healing good,” Myles responds, a confirming nod every few words from me. “Healing pretty fast, I reckon, she is. I’m sure you’ll get to take her home soon, mate, and it’s always better when you’re at home. Loads of movie marathons in bed, it sounds like.”

“Ya, we have ‘bout ten seasons o’ FRIENDS t’ watch, so we’re set,” I agree aloud with a nod, warmth finding its way to my icy heart once again. “It can’t be soon enough, tho.’”

“I know, Hare, but before you know it, she’ll be home and driving you nuts.”

“Eh, I dunno ‘bout that. She hasn’t driven me nuts in years, My’, not since well, befo’ . . as me assistant,” I divulge, tapping into a deep memory at the corners of my mind. He nods with a soft snicker, the nostalgia shining in his eyes. “‘s hard t’ believe how far we’ve come since then - annoyin’ tha shit outta me with that mouth on her back then, and now she’s go’mme wrapped ‘round her finga so tight I dunno ‘bout movin’.”

“Took you lot long enough, it’s been driving me mad watching you two beat around the bush for so long. I’ve never seen you like this with a girl, y’know, pull you out of your shell like that and suddenly you’re orbiting her like she’s the sun,” he comments with a curious shake of his head.

“Ya, I dunno how it happened, eitha. I jus’ woke up one day that fall and I was excited t’ see her at work, couldn’t believe me mind. There was always sumthin’ ‘bout her, and slowly, I kept gettin’ a betta idea o’ what that was . . Y’know, I told her I loved her, prolly twice now.”

“Would you look at that? I told you that you’d get to, mate. I reckon it’s not too hard to tell somebody that they’re right, is it now?” he jests, leaving me shaking my head.

“Bloody shuddup, My’,” I snicker, kneading my bottom lip with a sigh. “I can’t even imagine a life without her, eva since I walked into Pete’s office that day she was interviewin.’ I dunno how I made it thru tha last two years playin’ tag with her, I shoulda started it all sooner . . but ‘s alright. I wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else but here with her, takin’ care o’ her.”

The words waiting on his lips are stolen away when our ears are pricked from those of another.

“Tell her that I say hi, will you?” he requests a few moments later.

Coming to a halt, I turn and look over to him, a nod sufficing my words almost automatically.

“‘Course, My’.”

“And, Hare?” he adds on at the last moment, making me hang onto his every word. My eyebrows jump towards the sky while I busy my fingers with the worn guitar keychain in my pocket, just like all of the times before when I had rubbed it while on my way to her. “Take care of yourself, too. Please. Not to be that person, but you know like hell she’d say the very same thing . . You’re no help to her all worn out, and she needs you.”

“I will . . promise,” I agree aloud with a firm nod, waving a hand at him before turning around and following the nurse back to her room where she waits for me.

Am I making the promise to him, or to her? I’m not sure, but I know he’d want for me to make it to her, and so I do.

My Becks.

Her gentle, rhythmic breaths drag me over to her and will the kisses from my lips that I leave on the top of her head. She doesn’t stir or wake, bundled up in the crisp hospital blankets with that sick scent once again in the air. My fingers habitually brush the stray locks of hair off of her face whilst my eyes run over her, checking that she’s okay.

When all systems are go, I fall onto the sofa with a huff. Emotion overcomes me as my eyes dance over her, refusing to let go when my eyes are doing quite the opposite. The splashes of purple and blue painting her face are smeared by the wetness trickling onto my cheeks. Sobs escape muffled from my lips where I press my taut fist, the realizations burning behind my eyes. They repeat themselves, over and over, demanding to be felt and acknowledged.

She almost died, my very girl in front of my eyes.

I almost lost her, again, and for real this time.

It wrenches at my heart to float back to that time, only a few days ago, and to wonder what life would have been like it without her in it. I can’t even place one foot inside of that door before the pain yanks me away. The desert claiming my throat burns hotter as the thought grows within my mind, possibly the worst thought I’ve ever had in my entire life. There’s nothing that I could be scared of more than to live in a world without her, especially with all that we’ve gone through and all of the times that I lost her, but to really lose her and for her to die, I couldn’t handle it.

The ideas that were planted in my mind that night contemplating attending her funeral and saying goodbye to her turn my stomach upside down and send the tears flying faster. ‘Unable’ doesn’t even suffice how little I could handle that reality, and no matter the reassuring scene in front of me, it still scares me out of my wits. I’m more sure now than just a few days ago that I couldn’t live in a world that she’s not in. For some odd reason, her getting sick now after being okay for a few days, has shaken me and I can’t understand why.

Bloody hell, I hate this mortality thing.

“Mmmm . . Harry?”

Swallowing, which doesn’t succeed, I blink to clear my sight as it focuses on her.

“Are you there? I hear you . . are you okay?” she mumbles, her voice thick with sleep.

“Ya, ‘m here, Becks. Why’re you awake, love?” I sniffle, making the tears disappear as I lean forward to find her face lit by the glow of the machines.

“I dunno,” she answers uncertainly, moving around in her bed. At last, I find those baby blues with my own, or what’s visible of them. “I just woke up, and I had a feeling . . Alright, Harry?”

Sniffling, I lose any control I had while a waterfall begins on my cheeks. Huffing, my head falls as my elbows dig into my thighs through my joggers, and my lips bend under the weight of the words and feelings behind them.

“No,” I croak, holding in the whimpers and disgusting sounds. One breaks free and shortly after, a warmth encloses my hand - her own. It squeezes mine and I softly squeeze back. The sensation of her thumb drawing circles on the top of my hand fills my mind, trying to fight off the images and thoughts that let struggled sounds trickle from my mouth.

“Come here,” she insists, tugging on my hand.

“What?” I question, dumbfoundedly.

“I said, come here. It’s my turn to do the cuddling.”

“Becks,” I begin in disagreement, not moving an inch.

“Harry Edward,” she counters defiantly, giving my hand a surprisingly strong yank. “Let me cuddle you, goddammit.”

“Bloody hell, there’s that lawyer fire in me girl,” I barely titter, finally rising to my feet and following her insistent hand. “So proud o’ you, y’know.”

“It’s about time you listen to me.”

“Would you chill?” I giggle, toeing off my shoes before sliding under the covers toasty from her little heater of a body.

“You should know by now that I don’t know that word.”

“True,” I exhale, feeling the fingers of relaxation touch me when she pulls me into her, guiding my head to her chest.

“God, I hope I can breathe with you on my chest, big head.”

“Hey! I thought you liked me big head.”

“Yeah, I do. It’s just, ugh, heavy,” she scoffs, pulling giggles from our lips as her fingers run through my tangled curls. Silence ensues, replaced by the whirring of my incessant thoughts, and the return of the tears. “Now, it’s my turn to cuddle you and comfort you, because you’ve been doing such a great job of it with me.”

“Thanks, bug,” I rasp, hiccups soon interrupting my words. “‘s jus’ all hittin’ me, I think.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. I . . I can’t imagine what’s been going on in your head, Harry. You’ve been so strong in front of me, which you need to knock that off by the way. If the roles had been switched and it was you, Harry . . God, I’d go mad with worry . . You don’t have to hide it from me, I hope you know. I still meant when I said I want us to be honest with each other,” she coos to me, her own heat quickly spreading over me and her words achieve the same. A small ‘thanks’ fills the air amongst tears while I clutch her elbow, careful of her incisions and hurt ribs.

“I jus’ don’t ever wanna lose you again, bug. I couldn’t . . I can’t bear it, I couldn’t live without ya. I know I couldn’t,” I divulge breathlessly, searching frantically for breaths.

“I meant what I said in your office that day, Harry. I’m not going anywhere, especially nowhere far from you,” Becks assures me, her sweet words tickling my scalp but it’s nothing compared to the tingles that spread at the site of her lips on my curls. “You won’t lose me, I promise you that. I’m good at keeping them, too.”

“Reckon you are. Don’t ever break that one, please, Rebecca Ann,” I beg blearily with wobbling lips.

“I won’t, Styles,” she agrees, dredging up that old almost nickname that pulls my lips up and into my cheeks. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

“‘Kay, you betta keep that promise, Becks,” I hiccup, sure of my tears soaking through her oversized shirt and kissing her skin. “Need ya t’.”

“I will, Harry. Promise,” she coos, her fingernails tickling my scalp that sings from her touch. “Shhh, it’s okay. I’m okay.”

I only nod at her words, fingertips burning from the vice like grip I have on tufts of her shirt now. Her other hand presses harder into my shoulder, waving circles into the trembling skin.

“You’re still the one I run tooooo, the one that I belong toooo. You’re still the one I want for lifeeeee,” she sings softly from above me, only proving to me further how much of an angel she is with that sweet voice of hers and that special song. Our song, again.

Rather quickly, the last words settle upon my ears and wrench my heart bittersweetly, “I’m so glad we made it. Look how far we’ve come, my babyyyyy . . . Alright now?”

“Mmmmhmm, think I am,” I murmur to her, my fingers finally relaxing against her side.

“Good,” she hums, the words dancing along my unruly hair that she’s combed free of any snarls. “My God, how far we’ve come . . I’m not going anywhere after all of that, Harry, don’t worry. We’ll be okay, we just have to get through this,” and with the sound of her delicate humming, I drift off to sleep with her fingers in my hair and her lips on the crown of my head.

Maybe this switcheroo game isn’t too bad, although I know I’d switch places with her in a heartbeat. I know even more now that she’d take just as good care of me as I have of her. This is just what I needed, just what the doctor ordered.

I’m not sure I’d ever leave her arms now, if I had the choice.

The sensation that awakes me is heavenly, and so is the voice that the angelic hands belong to.

“Your hair is almost long enough to braid, I think you should grow it out again. I was always sad I never got to braid it, like I’d wanted to,” she murmurs, the pad of her thumb tracing the divot of my cheek dimples.

A raspy titter fills the air as I yawn beneath her with a hard blink, trying to remember where I am and what happened.

“Ya’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Mmmmhmm,” she confirms aloud, the pads of her fingers leaving trails along my tired skin. “You should be getting more sleep, Harry. I can tell you really needed that, you slept so hard . . . You smiled in your sleep too, you know.”

“Did I?” I muse with curiosity, sinking back into her arms while trying to remember my dreams. At the appearance of the memory between my ears, my cheeks fill with a ticklish warmth that I can’t control, and an irresistable desire to return to that very dream. It’s the same one that I keep having.

“Oooo, is Harry Styles embarrassed?” Becks giggles from above, and my embarrassment continues, as long as I’m rewarded with that sweet sound I’m okay with it.

“No,” I try to lie, but I reckon she’s getting good at recognizing my lies now too.

“What, did you have a sex dream about me, or something?” she chuckles, teasing dripping from her voice.

“Bloody hell, no. What, did you or sumthin’? ‘s that why yer bringin’ it up?” I laugh in return, finally opening my eyes and cocking my head so I can look at her. The sight is amazing, to say the least, and it only gets better when her blue eyes flit away as a fire consumes her features.

“You did, didn’t you, Becks?!” I exclaim, suddenly sitting up, very carefully. “No, you put those hands away, missy!” I continue, prying away her hands that hide her reddening face.

“I didn’t, I swear!”

“I don’t believe you, bug, yer not a good liar. Dunno how many times I gotta tell you that yer shit at lyin’.”

“I don’t wanna talk about this anymore,” she giggles when my fingers stray to her armpits, jolts sent from my fingers and into her body. At last, her hands fall and so do our laughs, although held on the back burner.

“‘ll tell ya ‘bout me dream, if ya tell me ‘bout yers,” I suggest with a slippery smirk. Her bottom lip becomes trapped between her teeth, luckily no longer swollen as it was at first from the accident. With a roll of her eyes, she exhales and ever so slightly nods.

“Fine. But you have to go first.”

“Fine,” I agree, taking a page from her book, and all with a grin. “Bloody hell, what ‘m I doin’?” I sigh with an embarrassed laugh, shaking my head back and forth while switching to lying on my side. A hand flies up to cover my face, but it doesn’t even make its arrival before she steals it away, lacing her fingers with mine.

“You can tell me anything, Harry,” she coos, and those blue eyes do it when I greet them again.

“Dreamt we hadda baby togetha,” I confess in a mere whisper, brushing my thumb along her pointer finger, circling the small, single stitch marring her skin. Next, it trails along the opaque beads of the bracelet that I bought her, slowly turning darker and darker purple. The impending silence drills into my ears, and sends the next words jumping from my lips, “I know ‘s odd, seein’ as we’ve only been properly datin’ fer a few days.”

“No, it’s sweet,” she says, and confirms it when I look into her ocean eyes. Even just looking into them, I feel like she’s hugging me in her own sort of way. “What kind . . of baby? Don’t laugh at me, you know what I mean, I just can’t stop having brain farts lately.”

“A boy, but can’t rememba his name. Maybe it was Charlie or sumthin’, or Tucker, I dunno. He looked like you and had yer eyes . . ,” I trail off with another nervous titter, our hands falling to rest on her leg. Unlacing mine from hers, I let my finger run over the braided silver of her ring, making me remember how scared she was when she woke up at first without it.

“In my dream, we had a baby together too . . A little girl, named Iris. I don’t even know why, because that was the name of the bully in Skye and I’s third grade class,” she giggles, calling my eyes to her. My heart warms at the sight of her brushing a tear away from her cheek with smiling lips. “It seemed like the perfect dream, your mum was taking care of her while I went back to work at the firm with you. And then . . ,” her words are consumed by the sound of her ethereal laugh, but it’s softer these days after she learned that laughing too hard hurts. I’m grateful for its return, but at times when I remember too well, it seems every good thing is eaten up by her accident. I hate it all the more, then, that bloody day.

“Then what happened?” I pose to her, catching the last of a tear that dripped down her skin splotchy with bruises. “Huh, Becks? Tha baby part ‘s cute, I like that name, but you pitched this dream t’ me with a certain sellin’ point. Rememba?”’

“Shut up,” she giggles, her hands returning to her blushing face. I let them stay, although sadly, and my hand trails to stroke her hair. “Okay, fine. I promised I would never tell you this, I mean how would it even come up, but here we are . . That gap before I came to work with you again, I had this dream and in it, we had sex in your office . . on the sofa . . after playing Strip Scrabble. Okay? Are you happy now that I’m going to faint from embarrassment?” she reveals slowly, and with each word, my chuckle grows thicker on my lips, rumbling from my chest.

“In me office?” I titter loudly. “Playing Strip Scrabble?” I continue, and a few more joking questions leave my lips until she’s whimpering dramatically from behind her hands. “You stop it, ‘m jus’ kiddin’ ‘round. Can’t say ‘ve tried doin’ it on tha sofa in me office, maybe ‘ll hafta try it out sumtime.”

“Stop teasing me!” she whines, but it’s eaten up by a giggle that joins mine. I get her hands away from her face and pull her into my arms carefully, soon stroking my hands through her hair.

“‘m not, ‘s cute. Yer cute, bug. ‘m flattered that yer already havin’ sex dreams ‘bout me, y’know.”

“It was a dream, I can’t control my dreams, and it was weeks ago!”

“Oh, so you were dreamin’ ‘bout havin’ sex with me even befo’ we were togetha? Ah, a bit eager there, aren’t we, Becks?” I quip, nuzzling my face into her hair and tickling her temple with my nose.

“Stop! Forget it ever happened, please,” she chuckles loudly whilst I press kisses across her hair. I think I couldn’t love her more, and then she goes and changes that, and ever so easily.

“‘s okay, babe, nuthin’ t’ be embarrassed ‘bout. I find it cute, y’know, shows how much ya like me,” I coo to her softly, my hand making circles into her back. “Did ya dream ‘bout sleepin’ with me when ya were me assistant too?”

“Harry Edward, shutup!”

“‘Kay, ‘kay, ‘m done. Promise,” I insist, but the giggle sticking to my words doesn’t help me to sound very convincing. She huffs below me, hiding her face in my chest, and I don’t think I would have it any other way. “Wait, ‘s that a yes?”

“Harry Styles!” she exclaims lastly, pulling away from me but I don’t let her go anywhere.

“‘m sorry, ‘m done. I mean it this time . . . Maybe one day we will, Becks.”

“What, have sex?” she asks, hilarious confusion painting her muffled voice.

“No, God,” I chuckle deeply, taking a few seconds to recover. “Have a baby, ya never know. Well, I s’pose they go hand in hand - sex and babies. ‘m not gettin’ any older, y’know.”

“Thirty is not old, and chill on the baby talk! We’ve been together like, not even a week.”

“Maybe one day,” I sing into her hair, relishing in the sweet smell of her orange blossom and vanilla shampoo.

If I close my eyes and ignore the sounds of the beeping, I can pretend that we’re far away from here. I can pretend that I’m okay deep inside, and that I’m not scared out of my fucking mind half of the time. I can pretend that I’m not frightened I’ll never get to have that kind of future with her, and all of the things I’ve dreamt of having with her for far too long. Here, with her tucked away safely in my arms and with her giggle against my chest, it’s easier to pretend that everything’s okay.

Nods are shared as I plod down the hallway, shoes tapping along the dark tiles. ‘Good morning’s pass between the lips of me and others, and at times, I raise my mug to them. That very object pulls my feet down the hallway, past Amelia with a nod, and to the door that beckons for me. All thoughts of what kind of tea I should pick to drink this afternoon fleet me when I find what’s waiting for me.

An unfamiliar hum trickles from her lips as her spoon spins circles in her plum colored coffee mug, a gift from Rose on her first day. The image alone yanks my lips towards the sky and I find myself smiling into the air, my side leaning against the doorframe with my back against the door. The tip-tap of my feet don’t awaken her senses and I feel something come to life inside of me when my arms wind around her waist.

“Hi, bug,” I mumble against her cheek, ending the words with a kiss.

“Oh!” she jumps, pulling a bluetooth earbud out quickly. “Harry, why do you always scare me like that?!” she exclaims in a groan, but I hear the faintest bit of upset in her voice.

“Who else are ya expectin’ t’ surprise ya with a kiss at this firm, hmm? D’ya got anotha boyfriend I should know ‘bout?” I tease, wisps of vanilla surrounding me as my lips brush against her smooth skin.

“No,” she laughs, her hands warmed from her steaming mug of tea laying on top of mine, but they don’t cover them entirely. My chuckle tickles her cheeks and I watch them round out from a smile. “I thought you were on the phone with somebody, one of the judges.”

“It didn’t last as long as I thought it would. Are ya hungry? ‘m thinkin’ o’ gettin’ some takeaway. What d’ya want?”

“Hmmm, I get to pick?” she coos, gracefully turning around to face me.

“Yep,” I return, my cheeks aching a little more when I get to see her in all of her glory. I nibble at my bottom lip while watching her tap her lips with a finger, thinking while her eyes flit to the ceiling, and then around the room.

“Stop teasin’ me with those lips, bug,” I sigh, bending forward as her lips sing with a gracious laugh. Spots of sugar stick to her lips in places, and then I’m met with the taste of chai vanilla tea they hold.

“Harry,” she giggles, pressing at my chest until I pull away. “Don’t you dare pout at me! We could get caught, anybody could walk in.”

“So? I wanna kiss you, ‘s been too long,” I whine, threading my fingers through her hair and letting my palm settle on her cheek.

“It’s been like fifteen minutes,” she titters, her eyes sparkling and that dimple alive in her cheek.

“But we have loads o’ lost time t’ make up fer, years even.”

“Well, we have plenty of time to do that, outside of work. We should get back to work and find a new case, silly,” she returns, booping my nose. I kiss her finger too.

“Don’t think I deserve ya, y’know. Yer too good fer me.”

“Hush, I am not. Hello? I’m the one dating the acclaimed Harry Styles of London’s Styles and Lawson lawfirm,” she counters, tittering when my lips tickle the crook of her neck. “Don’t say that about yourself, it makes me sad.”

“But ‘s true. ‘ve always thought that I don’t deserve you, yer too good, and . . ‘m not.”

“Harry Edward,” Becks retorts, backing away until I can lose myself in her eyes again. “I don’t want to ever hear you say that again. You are a good person-.”

“I wasn’t always, I treated you like shit when you were me assistant, loads o’ times. Even afta that . . ,” I interrupt, swallowing hard and looking away nervously.

“Harry,” she begins softly, replacing the curl that falls over my forehead. Silence dives into our conversation and suddenly, I wonder why I had to ruin it, but that’s what I’m good at. Her hand, gentle as if it was holding a baby bird, cradles my cheek. It presses against my face until my eyes are brought back to hers, and I find mine filling with tears for a reason I don’t know why. “You are a good person, and I never want you to think otherwise, I won’t allow it. You have helped so, so many people over the last almost ten years you’ve been practicing. I’m so goddamn proud of you, and all of the great things you’ve done. You’ve made their lives better and one especially, mine. Please don’t think that way, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted. You’re my best friend, I don’t know what I’d do without you- well, actually I do, because of last summer . . I couldn’t handle ever losing you, Harry, because I’m so lucky to have you.”

“Nah, ‘m tha lucky one, Becks.”

The memory slowly trickles away, feeling like a lifetime away, although only a few days ago. Smiles cling to her lips, now and again, as the dated Spice Girls movie plays on the screen before us. Her angelic laugh graces my ears, and I wish I could record it and play it whenever I need to hear it. I’m just so fucking glad that there won’t be a day anytime soon that I have to go without hearing it, no matter what I had feared and convinced myself of.

“Becks?”

Her head of dark, wavy hair turns to face me, a question poised on her soft features.

“Yer still sure I deserve you? Ratha sure yer an angel, or sumthin’ ‘m not worthy of,” I murmur softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear naked of any earrings.

“Always,” she answers instantaneously, the brightness gleaming on her lips enough to fill a thousand suns, and my heart a million times over.

“‘ll thank tha stars fer tha rest o’ me life fer you, bug,” I murmur happily against her lips that taste like honey against my own.

An angel she is, and all mine too. I can hardly believe it sometimes, because fucking finally she is. Mine.

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dearlazerbunny · 6 years ago

Text

Fever Dreams

Pairings: Poe x Reader

Genre/Ratings: None

Words: 1700

Summary: A loooooong time ago one of my favorite followers asked for a sick reader/Poe story, and this has been sitting on my computer unfinished for too long and I’m sick of looking at it so here it is! 😂

Coming home was always a huge sigh of relief, even from a routine run such as this. As you extended your landing gear, you couldn’t help the little flare of warmth that expanded in your chest. Home. Rest, probably; Leia was good at not running your team too hard too many times in a row. You remove your helmet and run a hand over your sweaty forehead as your X-Wing shudders to a stop on the tarmac. Another successful mission. You had to smile a bit. Your squadron of newbies and try-hards was coming along quite nicely, and from the looks of the gathering crowd below you, everyone else was seeing it too.

Cheers erupted as your cockpit opened and mechanics ran over to help you out and run checks over your ship. Medics were standing by, but you waved them off. This had been a clean run, the only problems you’d had were a few members overheating a bit from the humid jungle climate and some sunburned scalps. Nothing a good dose of water and aloe couldn’t solve.

“Hey there!” Lost in thought, you hadn’t noticed your boyfriend sneaking up behind you, grabbing your waist and pulling you into a hug. “Congrats, Miss team leader. Another run under your belt!”

“Poe, stop it!” You giggle despite yourself as he kisses you on the cheek. “It was a friggin drop off on a resistance-controlled planet. Hardly a daring mission.”

“Still. Proud of you, babe.”

“Thanks.” You smile at him, lightly booping his nose with yours, before pulling away and tugging at the sleeves of your orange jumpsuit. “I’ve gotta get out of this thing, I’m burning up.”

He wiggles his eyebrows. “Is that an invitation?”

“Oh for god’s sake, we are in public, Poe!” You glance over at General Leia, who was talking to some of your other recruits on the side. Proudly, based on the look on her face. “Besides, it depends on what Leia has in mind. We might be going back out-”

“Oh no you’re not.” Poe grins in that way that makes your heart drop. “I’ve already talked to her, both our squadrons are cleared for leave for the weekend.”

“In that case-” you make sure no one is looking too closely before whispering into his ear- “that is absolutely an invitation.”

…

Moonlight is streaming through the window when you wake in the middle of the night, bedsheets and a still naked Poe wrapped around you like beautiful poems. You have to push the covers away though, because for some reason you’re still insanely warm. You look around for your pajamas and slip them on without waking your softly snoring bedpartner, making your way to the bathroom. Splash some water on your face. Feel your forehead. Definitely hot. And a little nauseous? Weird. You were up to date on all your birth control, so god knows it wasn’t that. All of a sudden, you feel woozy, and you sit on the edge of the small shower, palm to your forehead. Everything aches. How hand you not noticed this before? Maybe that landing was harder than you thought.

You sit there, just trying to breathe, when an overwhelming sense of anxiety pours through you. Something was wrong. You could just feel it. Your heart was beating way too fast, there was sweat pouring off of you, and the pit in your stomach seems to deepen every second you sit there. As you open your mouth to call for Poe, all you manage to choke out is a handful of blood, splattered across your hand in bright red fury. You stare at it, feeling it drip through your fingers.

“P-Poe? Poe!” You cough some more, feeling the nastiness rise up in your throat.

When he finally gets to the bathroom door, he finds you curled up on the bathroom floor, shirt stained red and trembling against the cold tile.

“Oh my god, sweetheart, what’s wrong? Is that blood? We need to get you to medical, come on, up you go-” you try to stand but collapse under your own weight, knees hitting the floor hard. You clutch his hands for strength as you land, desperately trying to hold on to something as the world spirals from underneath you.

“Something’s wrong,” you whisper wide-eyed, swimming in red. Then you close your eyes, and you don’t see anything anymore.

…

The next time Poe sees you after dragging your lifeless body out to the hallway, screaming for help, you’re hooked up to too many machines to count in medical. Pale as death, with clammy hands and a fever that won’t seem to break. He grabs your hand from underneath the tightly wrapped blankets and squeezes, promising in his head to never let go. How had things gone this wrong this fast?

“Dameron?” The doctor comes in, stone faced, and Poe can’t help but wince. There’s still some smears of your blood on his otherwise pristine white jacket.

“Doc. What happened? One minute she’s fine, and the next-”

“She has an incredible amount of internal swelling, including in her brain and spinal cord. We’re giving her steroids for the inflammation and a broad-spectrum antibiotic, but there’s no guarantee it’ll catch whatever is making her react like this.”

“I don’t understand.”

The doctor flips open your chart on his clipboard. “Has she travelled in the past thirty days?”

“Travelled? She’s a pilot, of course she’s travelled-”

“A fever of this severity, marked by the thinning of the blood and the swelling, seems to be consistent with a virus contracted on a jungle-based planet. Does that ring any bells?”

Poe pales. “Y-yes. She just got back this afternoon.”

“There’s your answer then.” Poe looks at him, shocked, and he softens his demeanor when he sees the terrified look in his eyes. “Look, it manifested early, and it doesn’t seem to be contagious. Those are good signs that point towards a recovery. We’re working to get the swelling down as quickly as possible. Otherwise-”

“Otherwise what.”

The doctor looks at you, noting the vital signs beeping on a machine at your bedside. “She’ll most likely be brain dead within 24 hours,” he sighs.

“No- no, that’s not possible! You have to help her, you have to-!”

“Dameron, get a hold of yourself!” The doctor places one hand on his shoulder. “We’re doing everything we can. Only time will tell now.”

Time seemed to be something you were quickly running out of.

…

Poe was making promises to god when you surfaced from a hazy dream. I promise I won’t be as reckless. I promise I’ll tell her I love her more. I promise-

“Poe?” your voice is thin and raspy, like you haven’t had a drink of water in days.

“Hey, sweetheart, I’m right here.” He moves closer to your bedside and squeezes your hand. “How are you feeling?”

Your eyebrows scrunch up. “Bad. Weird. I’m burning up.”

“You have a pretty high fever. The doctor is trying to break it.”

“Am I gonna die?”

Poe grimaces. “No, sweetheart. ‘Cause if you die I will personally revive you just to kill your ass again for leaving me.”

A small smile works its way across your face. “That’s… that’s good.”

“So don’t worry. Everything is going to work out just fine.”

You cough low in your chest, and Poe is quick to wipe your mouth with a tissue so the flecks of blood you spit up don’t freak you out any more than necessary. “Then why does everything hurt so bad?”

Poe sighs, gripping your hand even tighter. “It looks like you picked up something from the planet you visited. Nothing major, they’re keeping a good eye on you.”

“Nothing major?” You’re dizzy and not thinking straight, sure, but you can comprehend enough to know that all these IVs and machines and beeping things aren’t a good sign. “Poe, just give it to me straight.”

He stalls. “I don’t want to scare you.” Those few words make your heart drop, but you look him dead in the eye and stay there until he sighs. “They told me internal swelling of the brain and spinal cord.”

“Oh.” You’re quiet for a moment, not sure how to process that. “That’s bad, right?”

“We have about-” he glances up at the clock- “sixteen more hours to see just how bad.”

“Sixteen hours.” For some reason, that round number is a comfort. “I just have to make it through the next sixteen hours.”

Poe smiles a little at that, such a determined stance spoken at such a sickly whisper. “That’s right, sweetheart. I know you can do it.”

You eye him frantically as you begin to feel yourself slipping away. “Don’t leave me.”

“Not in a million years.”

…

Those next sixteen hours are some of the worst of your life. You float in and out of consciousness, plagued by strange dreams and hallucinations. You sweat out fluids as fast as they can pump them in you. Despite your 103 temperature, you shiver so hard your teeth clang together like bells, and you have more blankets draped over you than the entire base has on their beds.

But the whole time, Poe is there to hold your hand, and murmur comforting words no matter if you’re awake to hear them or not. He refuses to leave your side to eat or sleep. You’re all that matters, and he wants to be the first one there when your fever breaks.

Which it does, eventually and slowly. Ticking down by degrees over hours, but you eventually stop shivering. Your hand becomes less clammy as he interlocks your fingers together even tighter. You’re able to open your eyes, and even smile at him, which feels like the sun coming out after a hurricane.

“Hey.”

“Hey there.” Poe sits forward in his chair, brushing a piece of hair off of your forehead. “How do you feel.”

“Like I can breathe again.” Frowning, you paw at the layers piled on top of you. “Can you move these?”

“Gladly.” He returns to his seat once they’re piled on the floor at the foot of the bed.

You lay back onto the pillows, exhausted from that small amount of effort, and sigh. “I guess I’m gonna be okay, huh?”

Poe smiles. “You sure as hell are. Sorry, can’t get away from me that easily.”

“It was so hard,” you whisper. “It would have been so easy to just slip away. I could feel it…”

That sobers him, and he brings your hand up to his lips to kiss. “But you didn’t. You’re here, that’s all that matters.”

You smile. “With you.”

He smiles back. “Always.”

#star wars #Star Wars fanfic #poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #reader insert

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dust2dust34 · 8 years ago

Text

Wanna Be Yours, 6/7 (Olicity, College AU, Explicit)

Summary: College AU. Felicity’s car breaks down in a major rainstorm, sending her walking to the closest house she can find. It just so happens to belong to Oliver Queen, and he’s having a ‘Skivvies Only’ party. (See AO3 for Author’s Notes.)

A/N: I don't have words for how much the response to this fic means to me! Every single comment and kudos and reblog and retweet, it's amazing. Thank you! And now the chapter we've all been waiting for... This wouldn't be anything without my amazing beta Margaret. She does so much for me and I'm so grateful! Enjoy!

Two more songs that were sent to me for this fic, and I have to share them! True Colors by The Weeknd via @coal000 and Slow Hands by Niall Horan via @ellefraser17. Ugh, such feels i cannot.

(read on AO3)

(read from the beginning)

Wanna Be Yours, Part 6

He didn’t remember falling asleep.

One second he was watching an old movie about jet fighters and the next someone was carding their fingers through his hair.

Felicity.

She was back.

Finally.

Oliver turned into the touch, smiling when his nose brushed the inside of her wrist.

Not opening his eyes, he nuzzled his face into her arm before reaching for her. His hand found her legs first where she was curled up next to him. He sighed, his palm skating over her knee and thigh, up over her hip to her waist. His smile grew as he turned his entire body towards her, wrapping her up, folding into her. She said something that sounded a lot like, “I didn’t mean to wake you,” but he just hummed, angling himself so he could bury his face in her chest.

When his mouth passed over her breast, she let out a breathy giggle, smoothing his hair down as she wrapped herself around him in turn.

It was the best fucking way he could ever be woken up, he decided - his Felicity, warm and perfect, fitting so wonderfully against him, her giggles echoing her quickening under his ear.

“Mmm.” Oliver cuddled into her. “You feel so good.”

He could hear the smile on her lips as she replied, “So do you.”

Oliver nose brushed the opening of her shirt, her skin so soft against him. He didn’t stop there, moving until he found her breast again. Her nipple was harder this time and when his lips hit it, she gave him a stilted gasp. His body tightened, his jeans becoming constricting as he did it again. Her nails dug into his scalp, silently urging him on.

He waited for the inevitable interruption, bracing himself to pull away from her because they weren’t alone… except they were alone. Everyone had left. They had the entire house to themselves.

Urgent need cut through him.

“What time is it?” he whispered, the words a raspy mess.

“It’s after midnight,” Felicity replied, kissing the top of his head.

The tiny gesture made him melt, but not enough to distract from what she said. “Midnight?” He held her a little tighter, hating that she’d been out there without him. He snuggled into the warmth of her shirt - no way in hell he was taking it back; this shirt was hers - wanting to get closer to her at just the thought of her being out there for two hours. “Why did it take so long? Did you get your car okay?”

“I did,” Felicity replied. “I think next time I’m going to leave breadcrumbs for myself because we couldn’t find it. That’s what took so long. Apparently I’d gotten turned around. I thought I was walking back towards the way I came, but I actually went down a totally different road and didn’t even know it. So my car was tucked in this weird tree hole…” She cuddled closer to him, laying her cheek against the crown of his head. When her glasses got in the way, she huffed, taking them off and setting them on the side table next to the couch before returning to her spot. “We even drove by it once before we saw it. And then there was getting it jumped, which was fine, but Ronnie thinks I should get a new battery, and I said I would. And then he lectured me about just going home and having you go to my apartment and then we talked about how far that was and what time it was and he said my car might not start without a jump again and long story short, I hope you have jumper cables because I might need them in the morning.”

Considering how late it was and how little sleep he’d gotten this weekend, it was a damn miracle he’d followed all of that. Although he’d always been able to. He never missed anything when it came to Felicity Smoak. And he definitely didn’t miss that just one tiny change last night and she never would have appeared at the party. She’d had a hellish night getting caught in the rain like that, but it’d ended with her on his doorstep and for that he would always be grateful.

And she’d specifically chosen to come back here, despite being told what could happen otherwise.

His heart brimmed over with happiness.

“I have some,” Oliver said. He was sure there were some in the shed, at least, and he’d damn well go find a store to buy some if he had to. He rooted around until he found her hardening nipple again. Felicity sighed, pressing her face against the crown of his head again as he wrapped his lips around it. There were too many damn layers, though, and his mouth watered at the thought of pulling it into his mouth again, of doing so much more than that, of laying her back, undressing her, tasting her…

His dick jumped to life, straining against hard denim as he bit down on her breast, making her whine his name. The hair on the back of his neck rose and he bit down harder, eliciting a small cry.

It was perfect and he wanted more.

Oliver gasped her name before abruptly sitting up, pulling her with him.

She let out a startled sound, her arms tightening around him as he sat back, hauling her into his lap, his hands coming up to her face, to guide her lips to his. She was already halfway there, though, her own needy whisper on her lips before her mouth covered his. Oliver immediately opened for her. They were suddenly back to that morning, all the need and desire and emotions surging to the surface. Except now it was even more vivid, because they’d had the day together. It’d been a another brand of intimacy - quick kisses, holding hands, laughing with friends, watching the sun go down - and now it was a fuel to the fire. They kissed with the same urgency, but with a new tenderness that hadn’t been there before. Today spoke to what they were capable of, what it would be like going forward, how things might be when they got to know each other all over again, when they shared more than just a day, more than their months of anger.

He couldn’t wait.

Felicity crowded him back against the couch cushions, grinding her hips down. His dick swelled even more than it already had and wrapped his arms around her, one hand gripping her shoulder, pulling her down even harder as the other drifted down her back, her spine, to her ass. God, he loved her ass. Where this morning he’d been so much more tentative, afraid to do something that might scare her away, now he gave in. He gripped her hard, pulling at her ass just as much as he pushed her even closer to him. She gave him delicate little cries, her entire body clenching in response as she kissed him harder.

It was heaven, absolute heaven. He slid his fingers down, between her cheeks, finding her sex. Even through the thin pants, he could tell she was wet - for him - and the heat, god, it scorched him. He curled around her as much as humanly possible as he pushed his hand further between her legs. He stiffened his fingers, rubbing them against her. Felicity let out a guttural moan, one he swallowed up, and shoved her hands into the collar of his shirt. Her fingers spasmed, her nails digging into his flesh, like the feeling of his skin against hers was too much, and it made every inch of him soar. Because he knew exactly how she felt.

For a long moment, they sat there, Felicity in his lap, riding both his bulge and his fingers through her pants, her hard nipples pushed against his chest, her hands migrating from underneath his shirt to his hair where she gripped the strands tightly as they drank from each other.

This morning they’d had to wait, but now they didn’t, and the reality of that sent heat rushing through his veins.

He growled, pulling her closer, delighting in the feel of her breasts pushing into him.

“Oh, damn it,” Felicity moaned, pulling back. Instinct had him moving after her, his lips finding hers again, and she gave in… but then she pulled back, just enough to speak. “I have an idea,” she whispered against his lips. The sensation was too much and Oliver captured her bottom lip between his, sucking on it, his teeth grazing it. She whimpered for him, her hips jerking against his, making his eyes roll back into his head… but she wasn’t done. “I’m clean,” she said. That caught his attention and he pulled back. “I don’t, like, sleep around or anything, but I do… sleep if the occasion calls for it - and by the occasion I mean I kinda just want to, which I damn well can because why should men only get that pleasure, and I’m babbling. Okay, um… three, two…. one. I’m…” She huffed out a breath, and Oliver furrowed his brow, trying to follow her logic through the haze of desire. “I get tested, so I’m clean. Are you? Clean, I mean, like… safe? It’s ironic I’m asking that right now because I didn’t care this morning, at all, but I’m about to suggest something that is the opposite of safe in so many ways and maybe an abundance of safety could counteract any non-safe thing… But it is safe, but it’s not, because stuff can still happen, but… god, Oliver, I need you and I am shockingly close to saying I just don’t care what happens and that’s a little scary and I need to know…”

“Felicity.”

She paused, inhaling quickly, like she hadn’t been breathing. Probably because she hadn’t.

Oliver sat back to look at her, cupping her face, smoothing his fingers down her jaw…

His chest constricted at the sight she made. Her hair was mussed, her lips red and swollen, beard burn decorating the tender skin around her mouth. Her eyes were glazed with need, her face flushed with pleasure. Fuck, she was stunning, and every inch of him yearned towards her, almost forgetting what she’d been saying. Her eyes danced over his face and he wondered if she saw his thoughts because her pupils blew wide, and she shifted, her hips rotating against his in the tiniest movement. Oliver’s lids fluttered shut of their own volition, but he forced them open again, unwilling to look away from her.

“Wh-what… um…” He cleared his throat, his hands dropping to her hips to stop her movements. “What are you asking me?”

“I was going to stop,” she said.

He frowned. “What?”

“When I was out,” she clarified breathlessly. “Earlier, I mean. For condoms. Because now we don’t have any and I’m about three seconds from asking how you feel about the pull-out method.” His eyes widened - oh, her babble suddenly made a lot more sense and holy shit, she’d been suggesting they go bareback. “But that’s dumb, right? That’s just… insane. I should go back out, because we need condoms. Now, right now.” His brain was spinning, for about a thousand different reasons, and it spun out of control when she arched her back, pressing her heat against him with even more alacrity as she pressed her lips to his again, moaning, “God, I need you, Oliver. I can’t believe how much I need you inside me-”

“I found some,” Oliver interrupted. “Upstairs. We have condoms.”

“We do?” Felicity repeated. “Then why are we just sitting here?”

That’s an excellent fucking question.

But when Felicity started to climb off of him, he knew the answer.

Oliver wound his arms around her, trapping her against his chest. He wanted to laugh at how much more control he felt in this instance, because the need to tell her how he felt overpowered his need for this woman. No, the feelings were equal, just on separate wavelengths, but no less powerful. He wanted to be inside her, he wanted to fucking bury himself as deep as he could and never fucking leave, but he also needed her to know that this was good, too, in its own way, that as long as he had her, in any way, shape or form, he was good.

“Because…” he whispered against her lips, “because the thought of not touching you when you’re right here drives me fucking insane.” Her breath hitched, her nails digging into him. “Because I never thought I’d get the chance to see you again, much less talk to you, much less…” Oliver’s arms turned to steel around her, pulling her down against him with so much force that she cried out. “Much less touch you, and kiss you… feel you like this…”

He ran his hands down her sides and up her back. She was so responsive, arching into his touch as much as shivering from it.

“God, Oliver,” Felicity breathed. “This is crazy.”

“What?”

“I want to drag you upstairs, but I also really love hearing you say stuff like that.” She laughed, shaking her head. “It’s… ridiculous. I don’t know what I’m feeling or what I should be feeling or what this is-”

“But it’s good?” he asked, pulling back to see her better. He brushed hair off her face. “It’s a good feeling?”

“Yes,” she sighed, her voice cracking. “I want both… I want you and I want you talking to me like that, because god, it’s…” Her lips brushed his. “I want all of it.”

And then she was kissing him again.

With a groan Oliver shoved his hands into her hair, angling her head to deepen the kiss.

They were too close to the precipice this time. The second her lips touched his, he lost any and all self-control he had and damn near devoured her. His feelings for her filled him to the brim, flooding his senses so he felt them in very brush of her skin against his, every gasp they shared, every breath, rivaled only by the actual sensation of having her in his arms. Her kisses were electric, addicting, and he wanted more, more, more…

Oliver sat up more fully, scooting to the edge of the couch. His hands dropped to her legs, making sure they were wound tight around his waist, before he grabbed her ass, the other wrapping around her back, and stood up.

Felicity clung to him.

Oliver had spent a lot of summers in this house. He knew exactly where everything was, down to the cracks in the hardwood floor. But in this moment, he didn’t know a damn thing. Every inch of his focus was on the woman cradled in his arms, on kissing her, chasing her eager moans and finding new ways to make her shiver against him. So he didn’t see the corner of the couch that rammed into his thigh or the lamp they brushed by, nearly sending it crashing to the ground. He didn’t see the wall they narrowly missed or the banister of the stairs that he almost walked into.

He definitely felt all of it, though.

Growling under his breath, Oliver gripped her tight, making sure she was plastered to his body before his other arm swung out, hitting the wall with a thud. His hand brushed the hanging frames there as he slowly started climbing the steps, moaning his displeasure whenever Felicity’s kisses slowed down.

He didn’t care how long it too him to get up these steps, he was going to do it without losing a single second with her.

They were a couple feet up the stairs when his foot hit the next step, almost making him trip. It was only because Oliver was going so damn slow that he didn’t fall and crash right onto the precious bundle in his arms.

Oliver froze with a grumbled, “Fuck,” his arm flying back to protect Felicity before he really did fall. “Stupid fucking…”

He hiked her closer, ready to start all over again when he felt it.

She was giggling.

Felicity’s body shook with laughter, her curves rubbing against him with as the full-bodied giggles radiated through her chest and into his. It was adorable and gorgeous and contagious and before Oliver knew what he was doing he was laughing with her.

Oliver hummed, leaning against the banister of the stairs. “I guess the first night we make love shouldn’t involve me breaking my leg,” he whispered.

The words were out before he could stop them - ‘make love’ - and he knew he’d said too much. Shit. It was too fast. While today had only confirmed what he had always known about his feelings for Felicity Megan Smoak, he was positive that she wasn’t even close to being there. She’d thought he was joking last night when he finally fessed up about his feelings to her, assumed it would be a one time thing, and even after sleeping in the same bed together, she hadn’t believed him, not until she saw physical proof in the form of that gum wrapper he’d kept stashed in his wallet for so long.

It was too fast and he got his confirmation an instant later when Felicity froze. She didn’t stiffen, so much as she just… stopped.

Shit.

“Make love?” she repeated.

He wanted her to laugh, to joke, to think he was being hokey or silly, to at the very least tease him, but he couldn’t, because he wasn’t joking. He meant exactly that.

“It’s just… I’m not saying…”

The words stumbled out of Oliver’s mouth and he silently cursed, grimacing. He was a giant fumbling goddamn idiot and he couldn’t think with her so close. The last thing he wanted was to make her think he was pushing, in any capacity. Oliver slid his hands up to her waist and urged her off him. She let him go with ease and he instantly missed her warmth, feeling the ghostly imprint of her body wound around his. He wondered if the way her brow furrowed was his imagination because it was gone a second later as she stared at him. And it was at him, because she was two steps up from him and they were eye-to-eye.

Oliver swallowed, nerves nesting in his stomach. “Felicity, I don’t… it’s a term, I wasn’t…”

Hadn’t they just promised that they’d be honest with each other? Because it wasn’t just a term. It was more, so much more. But he didn’t want to freak her out. Thoughts raced through his head and he tried to capture at least one to help him find the right thing to say.

“I don’t want you to think that I’m trying to…”

“Oliver.” Felicity’s fingers covered his lips. The words stalled on his tongue and he stopped breathing. He wondered how he could feel her fingers so readily when his lips were slowly numbing as he stared at her. He couldn’t read the look on her face and it was making his skin feel too tight when she finally smiled. “It’s okay.”

“But I want you to know-”

She put more pressure on his lips to still them. “I do. I do know. Now… stop thinking so much.”

Oliver blinked, trying to understand what she was saying, but all he could do was smile at the callback to the night before. As his lips moved under her fingers, her eyes dropped to his mouth, gentle wonder shifting to something darker. His heart climbed into his throat as she slid her hand up to cup his cheek, his whiskers scraping against her palm…

And then she was kissing him again

It was soft, so very soft, and he sighed, leaning into her. It didn’t escape his attention that she didn’t say anything about his choice of words, or his fumble, that she’d gone back to telling him to stop thinking so hard about everything. He would have laughed at the irony of who was the one thinking too hard between the two of them considering their history before this weekend, but then Felicity’s tongue swept over his lips and all that mattered was her.

As they kissed she held him with such care, such trust, such… He didn’t let himself think the word, he couldn’t. But something was different. He didn’t know what or how he knew, but there was something different in the way she kissed him, in the way she held him, touched him. It was so tender, making his entire being ache, almost like…

Like maybe her feelings were deeper than he let himself hope.

“It’s okay.”

Did she…?

Hope slammed into him. His thoughts and feelings clashed together, sending a hot flush up his neck. He had to be imagining it, right? Because that would be… god, his entire life would be made. He had to check, he had to see. He had to know.

Oliver pushed his hands up to hold her face, whispering, “Felicity,” as he pulled back.

She heard his barely audible plea and she pulled back, looking up at him.

He brushed his fingers over her cheeks, pressing some of her hair off her face. His fingertips skated down along her jaw before moving back up, his thumb grazing the corner of her mouth… and he stared into her eyes.

She didn’t hold back a single thing.

It was real.

Oliver grinned, saying her name just as she gave him the most beatific smile, her eyes lighting up, her face glowing.

It was real.

They were being honest, in their own way, letting each other in, and it was more than he could have dreamed.

His grin damn near split his face as he kissed her again. It was her turn to melt against him, her knees buckling slightly. Oliver wrapped his arms around her, keeping her close, melding his body to hers. She made a gentle breathless sound that struck him right in his heart. It was a heady combination with her lush curves pressing into him, the heat of her skin scorching through their clothes.

She arched her back, her abdomen pressing against his aching arousal.

Oliver slipped his hands up under her shirt. They both hissed, just before he pushed his fingers under the band of her pants. Felicity shuddered, goosebumps raising under his touch, giving him that moan again, that delicious perfect moan. He pushed his hands in further with a ragged, “God, Felicity,” as he drowned in her.

“Yes,” she whispered, pulling his lips back to hers. “Yes.”

Oliver slipped one hand back around to her ass - her skin was so hot it burned, but she gasped like the opposite was true - as the other slid to the front of her panties. He pushed his hand between them, groaning at the added pressure of his fingers against his hardness, but it quickly got swept away as he slid his fingers over the front of her panties. They were already damp, nearly soaked through when he ventured lower, closer to her entrance.

“Ooh,” Felicity whined, nodding rapidly where she clung to him. She arched her hips into his touch, her head falling back. Oliver held her up as he pressed his fingers against her sex. “Oliver… Oliver.”

He kissed a wet line up her throat, nipping at her, working his way up her jaw, around her chin. She moaned, rocking against his fingers, getting just enough friction to make her whine for him. Her fingers skated up the sides of his neck, her nails scraping over his ears before she shoved her hands into his hair, urging him closer.

Oliver pushed his fingers underneath her panties, touching her swollen, needy sex.

They both moaned. She was so wet, soaking his fingers as brushed over her clit in a way that had her bucking against him. And then he went lower, brushing over her puffy nether lips. She was so hot and wet and tender and he could feel his control spiraling away from him. Oliver moaned again, the sound getting lost in her drugged whispers. He gripped her ass tight, digging into the ample flesh, earning a wild, “Oh god, yes… yes.”

He swirled his fingers at her entrance before slipping a finger inside her. Her inner walls immediately clamped down around him, giving him a guttural moan, her body tightening, her hands fisting in his hair hard enough to make him see stars. Oh god, he needed more, he needed to feel more of her. Oliver pushed her back against the wall, frames rattling under her back, but they didn’t notice, too lost in each other. He added a second finger, cupping her sex like he had this morning, rubbing against her as he rubbed himself against the back of his hand. Pleasure swamped him, and he rubbed harder against her.

It was so, so much… but it also wasn’t enough.

“Felicity…”

“Yes,” she replied, searching for his lips.

“I need you,” he whispered, his lips brushing hers. His voice became desperate, even more than he already was. “I need to be inside you, Felicity.”

She cupped his face, pulling him back to look him in the eye. “Take me upstairs, Oliver.”

They were the most erotic words Oliver had ever heard.

Yanking his hand out of her pants, Oliver grabbed her hand and pulled her behind him. He moved fast, but she kept up the entire way, giggling when they dodged furniture and a bag of bottles he’d forgotten to take downstairs. His room was open, waiting for them with a welcoming glow of light, and the second they crossed the threshold he pulled her into his arms and kicked the door shut.

Felicity grabbed his shirt, pulling his lips down to hers just as he wrapped her up in his arms, damn near yanking her off her feet.

The hesitancy they’d experienced last night when the door closed behind them was nowhere to be found as she simultaneously pulled him back to the bed as much as he pushed her back.

When her legs touched the mattress, Oliver grasped her waist, lifting her up onto it. Felicity grabbed at his shirt, scrambling up underneath it, pushing it up. He pulled away long enough to rip it off over his head before he started unbuttoning her shirt as she grabbed his hips, pulling him between her legs. She touched as much of him as she could, reaching behind him to grab his ass before coming around to his front, her nails scraping the denim deliciously. His dick twitched, damn near reaching for her. Felicity cupped the heavy bulge waiting for her, her hand wrapping around him so perfectly that he forgot how to breathe.

“Oh… shit,” Oliver hissed.

Sensation rocketed through him, his eyes rolling into the back of his head, his hands making tight fists in her shirt. He said something unintelligible, something that made her laugh, and something that made her squeeze him, rubbing her palm against him.

His hips jerked forward, seeking more friction, and she gave it to him.

It was fantastic, sensational, fucking amazing, and he quickly lost himself in her touch, every single nerve focused on her.

But then she moved, making him groan his displeasure, before he realized what she was doing.

“Off,” Felicity whispered, starting to unbutton his jeans.

Oliver nodded, gasping, “Off,” mostly because it was all he was capable of as he got back to her shirt with unsteady fingers.

Their moves were frantic, fueled by need and lust and so much more. His body hardened with each inch of flesh he revealed as he undid her shirt, and he felt her breaths growing shorter and more erratic as she undid his pants.

He finally reached where she’d knotted the shirt up at her midriff, and as his fingers started working it loose, he leaned over her, nudging her head back so he could capture her lips again. The kiss was messy, uncoordinated, both of them distracted, but that didn’t stop them from trying to do both, from touching each other as much as possible, from taking and giving everything they had.

Oliver finally got her knot undone and his moves started becoming even more frantic, so eager to touch, to feel. He moved to push the shirt off her shoulders, his fingers already itching to get under the thin straps of her bra, to push it off her shoulders, to tug the cups down so he could taste her nipples again… but then she finally got his pants undone and she yanked them open, her fingers digging into the band of his jeans and boxers, her fingers hot against his bare hips.

Yes, yes, yes, don’t stop, don’t stop…

He was five seconds away from pushing her back so he could rip her pants off and buy himself as deeply as he could inside her…

But he didn’t want that. No, he really did want, he wanted that a fucking lot, but not this time, not right now.

“Wait,” Oliver gasped, pulling back, his hands covering hers.

She froze, looking up at him. God, she was fucking stunning. Oliver leaned back in, needing to feel her swollen lips against his with an alarming fervor.

The kiss quickly spiraled out of control again and they were right back where they had been before - her hands pulling his pants down, his shoving her shirt off - before Oliver yanked himself away. Again.

It was too fast. He wanted to savor this, needed to revel in it, and as much as he wanted her - god, he needed her, so bad it hurt - he also wanted to make this last.

He also had zero doubts where her hands were headed once she got his pants down and he knew he wouldn't make it if he felt her fingers wrapped around his length. The imagery was almost too much and he held his breath, his cock twitching painfully against the painful bindings of his jeans. The zipper dug into him where Felicity had pulled it open and the pain did nothing to alleviate the ache.

When all he did was stand there, just staring at her, Felicity bit her lip, a flash of uncertainty touching her face. Fuck, he needed to stop thinking so damn much, but he was kind of glad he was, because he wanted to take his time and that was proving impossible when they gave into the intense craving they had for each other.

“Is this okay?” she asked.

God yes, it’s so okay, it’s more than okay.

“Felicity,” he whispered, cupping her face, bringing her lips to his. He kissed her softly, gently, sighing against her lips when she instantly responded. “Yes,” he answered. “It's…”

Perfect.

He didn't realize he'd said that out loud until she smiled, a tender shy tug of her lips right against his.

“A little early to be calling it perfect, isn't it?” she teased.

Oliver shook his head. “No,” he said, “because anything with you is perfect.” She fell silent, and the same hesitation from earlier hit him, but this time he forged on. He slipped his fingers over her cheeks, sliding them up over her temples and the soft hair there before he pushed wayward strands off her forehead. “You are always exactly where I want to be. It doesn’t matter what we’re doing or where we are, as long as I’m with you, it’s exactly what I want. Even when we were fighting and yelling at each other about that damn project, I didn't want to be anywhere else.”

Felicity’s skin warmed under his touch. “So that's why I could never get rid of you, huh?”

“Even when I was positive that you hated me,” Oliver said, “I always had a better day when I got to see you. It was even better when we talked, even if we were just fighting. I just… I would rather spend the entire day with you glaring daggers and cursing at me under your breath than be away from you.” His lips quirked. “I’d rather you yell at me instead of ignore me…” Felicity huffed out a chuckle, remembering the many times she'd done just that. “But even then, I’d take it just to be closer to you.”

“God,” she breathed, “you're really good at that.”

Oliver furrowed his brow, his eyes drinking her in. “What?”

“Saying the exact thing that will make my heart feel like it's going to…” Felicity waved her hands. “You know that feeling when it's really full, and you can’t breathe, but it’s in a really good way, like… like it’s about to explode and all you can do is feel?”

“I know exactly how that feels.”

She stared at him, the lamplight catching the way her face softened with emotion. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said, before his lips covered hers, needing to show her as much as tell her.

Felicity moaned, a tiny sound from deep in her chest, but instead of kissing him back, taking control as she had been doing, she gave him the reins, letting herself fall into his hands with perfect trust. He cradled her closer, his hands slipping into her hair, keeping the kiss soft, wanting to cherish this amazing moment. There was nothing like when they were on the same wavelength, when they both knew with one hundred percent certainty that this was real and it was happening. It made everything more vivid, touching him in the very depths of his heart.

Oliver held her closer, worshipping her with his kisses, his touch, his soft sighs. She returned every single one, her hands sliding around his waist, hugging him tight.

He wanted to make love to her.

Kissing her in a series of lingering touches, he kissed the corner of her mouth, her cheek, the tip of her nose, her brow. She closed her eyes, leaning into his touch, her lips parting when his hands slipped from her hair and down her neck, over her shoulders, his fingers pushing underneath her shirt.

He pulled back to watch his hands as he slipped it off her slowly. He watched the play of her muscles as she pulled her arms free, leaving the shirt to pool around her hips.

Oliver dragged his fingers up her bare arms and when she shivered, her head falling back at the sensation, his eyes flew back to her face.

Would he ever not feel that stab in his chest at just how beautiful she was? He hoped not.

Her bra was next. Oliver slid the straps off her shoulders, her breasts falling in the thin cups. Her hard nipples caught on the material and his mouth watered, knowing they were dusky little peaks, remembering how they felt against his tongue. Her soft skin glowed in the lamplight, a stark contrast to the dark bra, and his body responded. He wanted to spend the next several hours on her breasts alone. But that would come later. Because they had a later. They had time.

Felicity licked her lips and reached behind her, unhooking the bra, her wet mouth catching the lamplight.

Oliver pulled it off, revealing her gorgeous breasts. Dropping her bra on the ground, he cupped them, his thumbs brushing over her nipples, his lids growing heavy. She let out a shuddery sigh and when he looked up at her, his stomach dipped at the pools of passion in her eyes. They only deepened as he circled his thumbs around the hardening buds, her breath hitching as she pressed her chest closer to his touch. He palmed her breasts, and she moaned.

Her reaction tore at him, need whipping through him with so much intensity his lungs seized.

Oliver surged forward, his lips finding hers in a searing kiss. His thumbs grazed the underside of her breasts as she fell back under his assault. He delighted in the shiver she gave him when his fingers brushed down her back. He wanted to push her back and climb on top, press the length of his body against hers, but he stopped himself.

He wanted to feel all of her, completely, totally.

With a moaned, “Felicity,” he kissed her chin instead, and then down, down…

She fell back on the bed, spreading her legs for him, her hands gripping his shoulders to pull him with her, but he had other plans. Felicity whimpered, whispering, “Oliver, please,” as she pushed her hands into his hair, gripping it tight, but he just nipped at her collarbone instead.

He worked his way down her body, pausing at her breasts. He sucked a nipple between his lips, swirling his tongue around it, making her cry out his name. His cock jumped at the sound. Oliver moved to the other one, but he avoided her nipple this time, much to her chagrin. He smiled at the noises she made as he kissed the delicate skin of her breast, his tongue laving her. She tasted different from this morning - then she’d been clean from her shower, but now there was a fine layer of saltiness that he wanted more of. Oliver sucked and pulled, hard enough to leave a bruise.

A wave of possession hit him and he found himself sucking even harder, wanting to leave his mark on her, before he forced himself to back off. It felt archaic, thinking of it that way, thinking of her that way…

Felicity instantly disagreed, shaking her head, wrapping her legs around his waist as she gasped, “Oliver, please… please…” urging him to where she needed him. The desperate plea was all it took for him to wrap his lips around her nipple and suck on it. Her next cry was louder, but that wasn’t nearly enough. Oliver greedily pushed the hard bud against the roof of his mouth where he rubbed it back and forth, eliciting a ragged, “Aah,” from her as her fingers spasmed against his scalp, her feet anchoring on his back to thrust her hips up against his chest.

He could feel her arousal for him through her pants.

Oliver growled, the vibrations around her sensitive flesh making her moan as he flattened his body against her, giving her more friction where she needed it.

It also had him rubbing the painfully hard bulge in his pants right against the side of the bed.

His hips jerked and he released her nipple with a hissed, “Fuck,” as pleasure had bursts of stars exploding against his closed lids.

He couldn’t wait. He needed her. Now.

Oliver stood up, his fingers slipping into the band of her pants and panties. He pulled them down and Felicity lifted her hips to help. The leggings stuck to her legs like glue, and he peeled them, unable to hold back his huff of annoyance when they didn’t just evaporate. Felicity laughed, a deep throaty sound, and that did nothing to ratchet down his need as she pulled her legs back for him until she was completely naked.

She laid before him, completely open to his gaze, and he paused, taking her in.

“You are so beautiful,” he said.

Felicity smiled, blushing, and he watched in fascination as it started on her chest, spreading up neck but also down, coloring her breasts. She bit her lip, her legs scissoring together. He wanted to smooth his hands over them, urge her to open them again, to never hide from him.

He hoped she could see it in his eyes, and he thought she did when she smiled at him, her body relaxing again before she sat up. Felicity hooked her fingers into his exposed boxers with a low, “C’mere.”

Oliver’s stomach fluttered. His hands found her shoulders as Felicity pulled his jeans down his hips, leaving them to slide down his legs before she tugged his boxers down next. He felt her breathing change as she moved, pulling the material down just enough for the very hard evidence of his arousal to pop free from its bindings. He was so damned sensitive the cool air was enough to make him hiss, but that was nothing compared to when Felicity’s hand wrapped around him.

“Oh god,” he gasped, his hips jerking into her touch.

His length slid against her palm. She moved her hand around him, twisting her wrist up to the tip where she brushed her thumb over the head.

Oliver choked out a breath, gripping her shoulders tight, falling forward until his forehead hit the crown of her head. His breath was hot against her hair as she wrapped both hands around him, smoothing them down, and he swore he got harder, swore he felt himself swell even more, which felt like a fucking feat all things considered. But it was Felicity holding him like this, her hands around him, her touch sending pleasure flooding his veins. The thought of it crashed with reality and his cock jumped in her hands. Felicity slid one hand down to cup his balls, her other twisting back to cup the very tip again… and then she leaned forward, like she wanted to take him into her mouth. Oh god. Every single inch of him yearned towards her, wanting to feel her lips wrap around him, her tongue taste the cum he knew was beading at the tip, to feel her swirl it around as she sucked him into her warm mouth…

He was suddenly vividly aware of the fact that he hadn’t gotten off since last night in the shower and while that had been spectacular, thinking about the soft curve of Felicity’s back, it was nothing compared to right now.

Oliver stepped back, forcing Felicity to let him go. He shook his head as he cupped her head, bringing her face back up to his as he whispered, “I won’t last if you do that,” just before he kissed her. He was painfully aware that she was sitting before him, completely naked, her legs spread, her wet heat right there, waiting for him, and he whimpered, kissing her harder before he ripped himself away. “Condom,” he said against her lips.

“Condom,” Felicity agreed, nodding, kissing him one more time before letting him go.

Oliver stepped out of his jeans and shoved his boxers down before stumbling over to the nightstand. The drawer was filled with condoms - thank god - and he grabbed one, instantly tearing it open. He rolled it on and turned around to find Felicity already lying diagonally across the bed, her legs parted just enough to see her glistening sex.

Dear fucking god, she was so gorgeous, so perfect, so amazing…

His jaw dropped, his needy ache for her making his cock hurt.

With half-lidded, lust-filled eyes, she raised her hand, beckoning him to her.

He crawled onto the bed and over her, letting out a shaky breath when she opened herself to him. Felicity welcomed him with open arms, the quiet smile on her lips making his heart skip a beat. Oliver settled over her, angling himself so his hardness wasn't pressed right against her heat just yet. That didn’t stop pleasure from suffusing his entire being when he pressed himself right into the crook her inner thigh made. It was only amplified when she wrapped herself around him, her hands skating down his back, her lips finding his cheek, his temple, his ear.

He sunk against her like she was made for him, like he was home.

Oliver shivered under the weight of that thought.

He wasn't the only one.

Felicity’s fingers trembled where she held his face.

Like a switch went off, every ounce of his focus shifted from their precarious position and right back to her.

Oliver propped himself up on his elbows so he could see her. He cradled her head between his palms, pushing his fingers through her hair and against her scalp as he whispered, “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Felicity nodded, a brief smile pulling at her lips. “Yeah, I'm okay.” Her eyes switched to watch her hands as she played with the edges of his hair, a tiny anxious line forming between her brows. “I'm just…”

It would only be later that Oliver would look back and realize this was the first time he didn't freak out about her half-sentences, or fill in the empty spaces with his own fears. That was gone, because now he knew that was with him just as much as he was with her.

“What?” Oliver urged. Another thing he'd recognize later was how easy it was to shut off his body when it came to making sure she was okay. “Hey.” Her eyes found his again. “Talk to me, Felicity.”

For a split second the anxious line smoothed away, like the sound of her name on his lips was enough to do that, but then it was back.

“I'm… I’m nervous, I guess,” Felicity admitted in a hushed voice. She huffed out a little laugh as she closed her eyes and Oliver wanted nothing more than to soothe her worries away with the brush of his hand. But he knew that was impossible so instead he rubbed his thumbs against her temples, waiting for her to continue. He could see the words forming on her face before her eyes fluttered open again. “I'm always a little nervous for the first time…”

He smiled softly. “Me too.”

“But this feels… different.” Felicity met his gaze, smiling before biting her lip. “It's special.” The words were barely audible, but even if he hadn't heard them - and he was so grateful he did, because they sent his heart soaring - he would have seen it on her face. She stared at him, searching his eyes. “This is special. This, and… us.”

The vulnerability and wonder shining at him through her eyes hit him hard.

“Yeah,” Oliver whispered. “It is.”

Felicity’s eyes danced over his face, and he hoped she saw everything he felt for her, everything he wanted to say. It wasn't confirmation that they were both in this, because they'd already done that. This was more.

She gave him a watery grin and a wispy, “Oliver,” before she pulled his lips down to hers.

Happiness.

It was in her voice, and it was what he tasted as she kissed him.

They kissed for the longest time and then moved as one, Felicity wrapping herself around him as Oliver stretched the length of his body over his. His hardness rubbed against her and he whimpered, his hips jerking involuntarily at the sensation, inadvertently rubbing himself right against her heat.

Felicity nodded, whispering, “Please,” between kisses. “Oliver…” Her voice dropped as she said, “Make love to me.”

Oliver’s heart somehow stopped and started at the same time. He cupped her head, pulling back to look at her, needing to make sure he heard her correctly. He did. She stared up at him, and the intensity in her gaze set him on fire. Emotion seared through him, flooding him, and it was his turn to nod. Never breaking eye contact, he kissed her softly and then he slipped a hand between them.

Her breath hitched when his fingers grazed her wetness. He slipped his finger over her entrance. Her inner walls spasmed, aching to be filled.

“Yes,” Felicity said, kissing him, sliding her hand down his arm to grip his forearm tightly. “Oliver.”

He shifted his hips back, both of them sighing at the sensation of his length brushing over the damp skin of her thigh, before he gripped his length.

Oliver slid himself through her wetness, up and over her clit, spreading her juices, before he found her entrance.

He slowly pressed himself inside her, just the head.

“Oh… god…”

It was perfect.

She was perfect.

Felicity’s mouth fell open in a breathless moan as he shuddered, his forehead falling against hers. Her warmth encased him, dominating every sense until all he could feel was her embrace. She rocked her hips up, and he slid in further, so easily. Her body was ready for him, and the second she gave him another eager thrust, urging him deeper. God, he wanted to take his time, to feel her, to make sure she was ready so this was perfect for her…

But her slight movements pushed him over the edge and he gave in.

Oliver thrust into her, in to the hilt, filling her completely.

Felicity stiffened with a gasp, not as ready as he thought. Her breaths came in uneven pants that he matched as he gritted his teeth, forcing himself to pause, letting her adjust to him… fighting the nearly undeniable desire to start hammering into her. She just felt so damn good around him, so warm, so wet, so smooth.

He cursed, fighting for equilibrium, grabbing her hip to hold onto something.

“Oliver,” she moaned, grabbing his face, anchoring him to her with a kiss. He groaned against her lips, kissing her back, rocking closer to her. The move pushed him even deeper, his pubic bone pressing to her clit. Felicity broke away with a breathy cry followed by a, “Yes…”

He rocked against her again, and she matched him perfectly, her hips thrusting up in return.

Concentrating on her, he focused on her responses, on the delightful noises she made as he moved inside her with shallow thrusts. Her walls clenched around him, but his pleasure faded into the background as he fixated on her, pressing wet kisses to her face, peppering them everywhere as he started deepening his thrusts.

She choked out his name, her hands finding his hair again, fisting it. Felicity buried her face in his neck, panting his name, her sounds morphing into cries as he pushed himself even deeper, angling his hips to brush over her clit.

“Ooh…!” Felicity cried, pressing her mouth to his shoulder, muffling the rest of her sounds as he did it again, and again.

Her hot breath was a stark contrast to the cool air in the room and goosebumps sent a shiver down his spine. His own pleasure spiked, a white wave of it crashing through him.

“Aah, Felicity!” Oliver gasped, falling against her.

He thrust harder, losing himself in her wet heat, in the feel of her mouth on his skin, her moans of his name, her hands on him.

It wasn't enough, he needed more. He wanted more, he wanted to surround himself in her, bury himself as deep as he could, lose himself in her…

Oliver shoved his arms underneath her, wrapping her up in his arms, cradling her against him so intimately his chest burned. She immediately reciprocated, pulling her legs up - he slid into her so fully that he whimpered, a cascade of words he couldn't comprehend falling from his lips. She locked her ankles against his back, winding her arms around his neck. He pulled a leg up, pinning her to the bed as he buried his face in her throat, planting messy kisses to the long, delicate column.

But it wasn't enough.

He wanted to connect with her, completely, totally.

Oliver kissed his way up her throat, her jaw, his lips brushing over her cheek, his stubble catching her lips before he kissed her. And then he looked at her. She was already watching him and the instant their eyes met, the intensity of their position ratcheted up to near-blinding levels.

A million and one words flew between them, and he wanted to say all of them, right now, but he didn’t have to.

Keeping one arm wrapped underneath her back, Oliver slid the other up until he was cupping the back of her neck, his fingers sinking into her hair.

Their gaze never once faltered as he pulled his hips back and thrust into her, again… and again.

Felicity’s mouth trembled, parting on a moan, her skin flushing to match the pink of her lips, and he knew she felt it too, their connection. The power of it made the room spin, but it wasn’t distracting or debilitating, because he was in her arms, and he knew he was safe there.

Oliver watched her, reading her reactions, changing the angle of his thrusts until he found the perfect spot.

When he finally did, he watched in fascination as her entire countenance shifted, a new pleasure flooding her features, her mouth falling open in a desperate cry. Her eyes slipped shut for a second, but she forced them open, finding his again, unwilling to lose the contact as much as he was.

It only amplified everything, making each thrust resonate more with a sharpness he felt in the soles of his feet. He grazed her clit with each thrust, right where she needed it, watching her start to crumble in his arms. It was beautiful, so fucking beautiful, something he could watch forever, and he did. He kept his eyes on her, responding to her whimpers of, “Right there, yes… yes, don’t stop… Oliver, Oliver… Oliver,” following her cues as best he could, wanting to see her come.

Sweat beaded along his spine as the familiar burn of his own pleasure started to build.

He gripped her tighter, fighting it, wanting her to come first.

But then she started thrusting back against him, her walls clutching him tight, and he shuddered.

“Oh… god,” Oliver whispered, his hips moving faster. Her cries became sharper, louder, her nails digging into his back. She nodded, holding her breath as they both moved. Pleasure and passion glazed her eyes, the flush in her cheeks suddenly shifting as she furrowed her brow in concentration. “Felicity,” Oliver moaned, his lids growing heavy as heat curled at the base of his spine. “Please… Felicity… Felicity…”

A breathless cry was his response.

Felicity cupped his face, pulling his lips to hers before sliding one hand down to his ass. He cursed when she dug her nails into him, and he thrust harder, sinking into her warmth with more urgency. She met every single thrust with uneven jerks of her hips, breaking away when the need for oxygen became too much.

His need and desire for her took over, his thrusts growing wilder with each passing second, her name falling from his lips in a litany.

She gasped his, her voice becoming strangled as he hit her clit over and over.

“Oh, oh… oh god, Oliver, don’t stop, don’t… oh…!”

He felt her stiffen underneath him, every inch of her clinging to him as he thrust into her, his voice cracking as he whispered for her to come, to please come, come for him…

And with a soundless scream, Felicity did. She flew apart at the seams with a series of ragged shouts, her silken walls pulsing around him with so much force he cried out.

It was gorgeous, absolute heaven to his ears hearing her falling to pieces in his arms… and it was the final straw.

Oliver gripped her tight, burying himself in her. He dug his face in her throat, grunting as his hips moved faster, pounding into her, seeking his own release. It was close, so close, and he heard her whispering his name in blissful whines, her face pressing to the side of his head, her lips finding his ear.

The pressure built, coiling tighter, tighter…

“Felicity, Felicity… Felicity!”

White sheeted over his eyes.

Oliver came hard, his orgasm ripping through him, heat razing his nerves. He didn’t hear the desperate cries he let out as his hips thrust wildly into her, riding the pleasure she gave him, spilling into the condom. Her inner walls spasmed around him, milking him for more, and he kept moving, over and over, losing himself in her until he was completely spent.

His gasps of her name filled the room, his mind filled with only her as he buried himself in her as deep as he possibly could before he finally fell still.

Pleasure radiated through him.

Satisfaction suffused every inch.

They didn’t move for a long time, save for Oliver shifting his weight to his elbows so he wasn’t crushing her. Even then she wrapped herself around him, unwilling to let him go. It filled him with so much joy he could barely breathe. He didn’t want to move. He never wanted to move, not ever again.

So much had changed in the space of twenty-four hours.

The rest of his life.

He wanted to talk about it, he wanted to tell her how much wonder it filled him with, how grateful he was she gave him another chance, that she trusted him with not only with that, but her, her heart and body and soul… And he would, but later. Because right now he just wanted to hold her, and fall asleep with her in his arms.

Felicity pressed soft lingering kisses to his face. His heart soared as he leaned into her lips, nuzzling her until his mouth found hers.

They didn’t speak, because they didn’t have to.

Oliver pulled out of her, whispering, “I’ll be right back,” before climbing off the bed.

His legs were shaky as he made his way to the bathroom, peeling the used condom off. He was spent, and he was only in there long enough to toss it away and wipe himself clean with a washcloth from the closet. He thought about bringing one back for Felicity, but the shuffle of feet behind him answered that.

The bathroom light was off, leaving her silhouetted in the lamplight from his room. She’d grabbed his shirt again and it was draped over her, only her fingers keeping it together between her breasts. Her hair was a wild halo around her head, from his hands and from making love. There was enough light for him to see she was biting her lip as she leaned against the doorjamb, her eyes taking their fill of him.

“Hi,” Oliver whispered, a little shyly.

Felicity smiled, ducking her head with a small grin. “Hi.” She waved at the bathroom. “I was just gonna clean up a little bit.”

“Right.”

Oliver tossed the cloth away and closed the few feet separating them, painfully aware of his nakedness, but not in a bad way. He was just aware of it, of how intimate it was to be with her like this, especially the closer he got. He thought about stepping aside, letting her in and then going back to bed. But then he thought about kissing her, about pushing his hands underneath her shirt before he was back to thinking he should let her be. He had no idea where the sudden rash of indecision was coming from, but it all evaporated when she reached for him.

Felicity let the ends of the shirt go, and he caught a glimpse of the edges of her naked breasts and her wet sex before she pushed up onto her toes to kiss him.

It was soft, sweet, and so gentle, a loving follow-up to what they’d just shared.

He wrapped his arms around her, sighing when her naked body pressed against his, their mouths opening just enough to taste each other.

With a hum, Felicity pulled back with a smile.

Oliver kissed her once more before he let her go. He made his way back to the bed as she closed the door, going about her business. He didn’t bother with his boxers as he pulled the comforter back and climbed in - on his side - and with a sigh, let himself sink in.

He doubled up his pillow, trying not to listen to every single move she made in the bathroom. But he also couldn’t help himself. Some part of him had once wondered, at the very beginning, if he ever slept with Felicity if that’d get her out of his system. He snorted. It was the exact fucking opposite. He was positively starved for her, from everything to her touch and kisses to wondering what her bathroom routine was. He wanted to discover everything he could about Felicity Smoak, absolutely everything.

The door opened, pulling Oliver from his thoughts.

He watched her walk back to the bed. She was still in his shirt, and it was still unbuttoned, letting him catch glimpses of her. She paused to ask, “Should I turn the light off?”

“No,” Oliver whispered. “Leave it on.”

He wanted to see her, for as long as he could. He gestured her back to the bed, flipping open the comforter for her.

A small smile lit her face at the gesture and she walked around to her side, slipping his shirt off, leaving it to land in a messy pile on the floor. He watched her every move as she climbed into bed with him, joining him under the comforter, mesmerized by everything - absolutely fucking everything, it was amazing - as he drank her in.

The second she was within reach he pulled her close, tucking the comforter in around her. She giggled when his movements tickled her, but all he did was smile because it meant she just scooted closer to him. She pressed her back to his chest, her backside settling against him just right, and Oliver curled around her, digging his face into her throat, making her giggle again as she wound her arms around his.

Silence settled over them.

As sleep started making Oliver’s limbs heavy, his eyes slipping shut, he felt like he was floating. In happiness. In awe, amazement, wonder…

He cuddled her closer, settling in with a sigh.

“Oliver?”

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice thick with impending rest, his arms tightening around her.

“Thank you.”

That woke him up.

Oliver furrowed his brow, his mind racing through his sluggish thoughts to understand why in the world she would be thanking him.

“For what?” he whispered.

She shifted, turning just enough so she could look back at him. Felicity stared at him, and the earnestness in her eyes made his heart feel about twenty times bigger.

“For not being that guy,” she replied. Felicity reached back to drag her fingertips down the side of his face. “For being the guy I thought you were when we first met.”

Oliver could only stare at her. He tried to form the words, any words, but nothing came up, because that… that was huge.

He started speaking, just needing her to know how much that meant to him, saying the first thing that came to mind.

“You make me want to be a better person,” he said. He heard the words as they were coming out, and he huffed out a small chuckle at him, shaking his head. “That’s something everyone says, isn’t it, but… but I… I want to deserve you, Felicity.”

A thin sheen of tears filled her eyes, and she blinked rapidly. He scooted closer, wanting to soak up any reason she might have to cry ever, but then she smiled. “You do, Oliver,” she replied. “You do.” He believed her. God, he believed her and he vowed that he would be. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was tired or because he’d finally made love to her, but there wasn’t an ounce of hesitation anymore. “You’re doing it again,” Felicity whispered.

“Doing what?”

“Saying the right words to make my heart do the thing.” She tapped her finger to his nose, bopping him, trying to lighten the mood as she added, “You gotta take care of this thing, mister.”

Oliver wasn’t sure if those exact words were her intention, but he didn’t care, taking them at face value either way.

“I will,” he replied. “Always.”

“There you go,” she said, her voice betraying how hard his words hit her, “doing it again, making me…”

Oliver swooped in before she could finish, his lips covering hers, sealing the unspoken promise. The way they laid kept them from deepening, but it was more than enough.

He finally pulled back, but not without a couple more lingering kisses.

Neither of them spoke, staring into each other’s eyes before they curled around each other again.

Oliver scooted down until his knees fit perfectly behind hers, his arms wrapped around her. She cradled them to her chest, lacing their fingers together, dropping a kiss to his wrist. He pressed his lips to her shoulder blade.

“Goodnight,” she whispered.

Oliver smiled, kissing her shoulder again. “Goodnight.”

He fell asleep first, to the sensation of her thumb rubbing against the back of his knuckles, her lips brushing his wrist, her light breaths lulling him to sleep…

It didn’t last long.

Oliver woke a few hours later, and used his kisses and the strokes of his hand down the side of her body to rouse her. With a sleepy moan, Felicity responded, turning in his arms, her lips finding his. It wasn’t long before she was pushing him on his back and climbing on top, straddling him. She remembered the condom this time, she reached into the nightstand to find one, ripping it open and putting it on before she gripped him, guiding him to her entrance. Lingering exhaustion quickly dragged them down, making their movements rushed and uneven, but they quickly found their rhythm, their bodies taking over as she rode him. Felicity fell against his chest and they wrapped themselves around each other. Oliver lifted his knees, using the leverage to thrust up into her as she ground down on him, his face buried in her hair, hers against his neck. Her cries were louder than before, losing herself in her pleasure, and they echoed through the room as she fell to pieces, urging him to follow barely a second later.

They fell asleep again.

Several alarms on her phone going off in rapid succession roused them an hour after that.

After a lot of grumbling and cursing, Felicity got up, whispering, “I have to leave soon if I’m gonna make it back in time for class.”

Oliver gave her a bleary nod and a sloppy kiss, not letting go of her hand until he absolutely had to.

He managed to open his eyes, watching her walk away.

One look at her swaying ass and he was up, following her into the shower. It lasted way longer than it should have, but when Oliver tried to get her back on track after teasing her - which wasn’t easy, especially when he saw the very large hickey he’d left on her breast - but it was Felicity who said she didn’t care, dropping to her knees, taking him into her mouth. Oliver came with a sharp shout, his head hitting the tiled wall with a loud thud, his fingers tangling in her wet hair as she took every last drop. He returned the favor, throwing one of her legs over his shoulder, pushing her up against the same wall, devouring her until she nearly pulled all his hair out as she came.

Her taste and the sounds she made as he pleasured her made him hard again, but he managed to keep his hands to himself as they both cleaned up. But then she walked back into his room and he caught her dropping the towel from around her body, using it to dry her hair. The motion made her entire body wiggle in delicious ways and before he could think twice he was grabbing her, hauling her back onto the bed where he made love to her one more time.

By the time they’d gotten dressed - she was wearing his shirt again, saying she needed to stop at her apartment and change anyway - and brushed their teeth - including her teasing him about where he’d put her toothbrush next to his the night before - the sun was rising, coloring the sky with a myriad of dusky pinks and burnt oranges.

She had a momentary panic attack when she forgot where her glasses were, but it quickly abated when they found them downstairs where she’d left them last night, sitting haphazardly on the table next to the couch.

Oliver left with her, even though his first class wasn’t until eleven that morning. He locked the house up, making a mental note to come back out this weekend and clean up some more before the monthly cleaning, and then he laced his fingers with hers, walking her out to where her Mini was parked next to his. He tugged her into his side as they walked, kissing her temple. She leaned into him, her damp hair tickling his nose, her hand finding his heart.

He waited to make sure her car started, and when it did, he laughed at the delighted squeak she let out, her fist flying into the air with a mini-victory dance.

She was the cutest fucking thing in the entire world.

And she was his, just as much as he was hers.

Oliver was so fucking happy he could dance himself.

“Hey,” he said, pulling her up out of the car for a moment. Felicity stepped out, instantly stepping into his arms. He smiled, leaning down to capture her lips for a second. Just because he wanted to. Because he could. Oliver leaned his forehead against hers, swaying, like he really was dancing. She gladly went along. “What are you doing tonight?” he asked.

“I have a two-hour lecture that doesn’t start until five,” she replied. “So I’ll be probably sitting in my car after that, staring straight ahead, trying to remember how to use my brain because my professor’s voice is very drone-like.”

Oliver chuckled, smoothing his hands up her sides and over her back before going down again, finding her hips. “Would you like to have dinner with me when you’re done?”

“Dinner? Like a date? A date-date?”

“Well…” Oliver’s brain faltered, because… Well, he thought it was sort of assumed that that was what it would be and for a split second, he forgot how to speak as he said, “Sure, yeah, I mean… the implication being with dinner that you… that we…” He huffed in exasperation and she grinned, her lips already forming the words, ‘Sentence fragments,’ with far too much amusement. He nodded with his own smile, saying it for her. “Sentence fragments, I know. It’s your damn fault, you know. You make me flustered.”

“I like that I make you flustered,” she whispered.

“You do a very good job of it,” he said. She giggled and he took a deep breath, the words ready this time. “Would you like to go to dinner with me tonight?”

“Yes,” Felicity replied immediately, nodding with a happy grin. “I would love to.” She cupped his face. “I wanna be yours, remember?”

“Yes,” Oliver breathed. The words were as close to what he felt as anything, and they settled inside him, filling him with warmth. He pressed his forehead to hers. “And I wanna be yours.”

They sealed it with a kiss.

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!!

Reviews literally feed the soul and muse.

Next up is the Epilogue! I've been planning this ending since I decided to continue this 'verse almost two years ago, I'm excited to share it with you guys.

Final update will be on Saturday!

#olicity #olicity fic #olicity fanfic #olicity fanfiction #olicitysquee #oliver queen #felicity smoak #olicity au #arrow #fanfiction #wanna be yours #my fics #my fics: au #dust2dust34

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