Strawberry Fields

Oliver. 25. Liverpool to Montreal. FIFA rating: 77.

[oliverabbott--20-blog]

bo-wiltshire:

For a moment Bo had to make sure this was actually happening – that this was her life. Intimacy wasn’t something she was well versed in. Hell. It wasn’t something she even knew anything about. At least that’s what she’d thought. But with Ollie’s eyes trained on her she could feel a small bubble of something in the pit of her stomach, in the sudden quickened beat of her heart. His touch was gentle, like so much of him was, and Bo turned slightly into it, closing her eyes in contentment. Then his lips were against hers again and she swore she would gladly suffocate herself if it meant she could feel them for the rest of her life. When he pulled away a small flittering of annoyance shot through her – she hadn’t wanted the kiss to be over. “You can’t, no,” she replied with an incline of his head, watching as he took another sip from his beer. “Here, let me…” she reached for the bottle once he was done and placed it back on the table before she shifted herself, rolling herself out from under his arm to sit flat against his hips. “Enough drinking,” she said down to him, leaning forward as a smirk spread across her lips. “More kissing.”

@norkiewrites​

Oliver watched as Bo took the bottle from him, a somewhat unamused look on his face as she did so. But that quickly changed when she rolled over on top of him, his eyebrows raised in surprise but the smirk across his face matched her own. He nodded slightly before leaning up and pressing his lips to hers. Raising a hand to cup her cheek, it started slow and gentle. And then he kissed her again, a little more fiercely as his fingers tangled in with the hair at the top of her neck. And again, tongue searching for hers as his other hand ran up her thigh and grabbed at her hip. His thumb came to rest just above the waistband of her jeans and he couldn’t help but let his hand start to creep under her shirt. Running the pad of his thumb over her skin, Oliver could feel a raised and rough bit of her skin. He pulled away from her only a bit as he continued to run his finger over the patch of skin. “Is that a scar?” He asked softly before he leaned forward again to plant kisses to her cheek and jawline. 

[oliverabbott--20-blog]

 bo-wiltshire:

The stupid bloody smile of his was her undoing every damn time and she hated (not really) herself for being so weak to it. Bo wasn’t sure if the tightening in her gut was frustration or something else entirely but she’d bet money on the latter. “Leftovers are practically just as good,” she admitted with a small grin, feeling his fingers wined through her own. She’d never get used to the way his hand felt in her own, almost like she was tethered to him.

Bo decided that she didn’t really like seeing Oliver like this – it was damn near identical to that of a kicked puppy. The drop of his bag by the door coupled with the slight attention he gave to Stevie was sullen and sad and nothing Bo wanted. After watching him go through the motions for a few minutes, hands scratching Stevie behind the ears, she let out a sigh and made her way towards the couch. “Yeah, yeah,” she waved a hand at him before slumping down to the couch, lying nearly on top of him, letting her chin rest on his shoulder. “You played well,” she told him, turning to kiss the side of his cheek.

Oliver sat a little straighter when Bo fell next to him, a free hand resting on her thigh as she propped her chin on his shoulder. Her compliment and affection elicited a small smile from Oliver and he turned his head to look at her. He’s icy eyes locked with hers and he felt himself melt. Bringing up a hand to cup her cheek, Oliver leaned forward and kissed her soft and slow. Pulling away only slightly, he pressed his forehead to hers, “Thank you,” he practically whispered before pulling away entirely. He lifted his arm and draped it across her shoulders and gently pulled her into him, “I can’t say I didn’t try.” Oliver raised the glass bottle once again to his lips and took another long sip.

[oliverabbott--20-blog]

 bo-wiltshire:

There was sudden – blinding – anger and Bo clenched her jaw, felt her teeth grind, her nails digging into the palms of her hands. Her eyes darted dangerously towards the opposing locker room when the door swung open slightly, fully intent on giving the Toronto striker a piece of her mind and then some, but the small tug at the hem of her shirt stopped her advance. Bo stood there for a moment before she let out a deep, calming, breath, shoulders dropping and relieving of their tension. When she had become the rational thinker was beyond her and she wasn’t quite sure she enjoyed it, really. Bo was fairly certain she liked the idea of kicking the Toronto forwards ass, even if it meant a night in jail.

“Yeah,” she said finally, turning back to Oliver and offering him a small smile. She leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to his lips before drawing back. And yet she liked the idea of spending the night at home with Oliver a hell of a lot more. “Yeah we can go home, ‘course. Do you wanna grab somethin’ to eat before? Don’t wanna make you have to cook somethin’. And we both know I’ll poison us if I try.”

He wasn’t quite used to the two of them kissing yet, and he was sure he never wanted it be. Because, even now as she pulled away from the quick peck, there was a genuine grin on his face. It was small and fleeting, but real. “I’m not really that hungry,” he admitted, lifting the rope and pulling her over to him. His stomach was a tight ball after the game and he had no desire to eat anything. “I’ve got leftovers at home if that changes.” Oliver slipped his hand into hers, intertwining their fingers together as he led them to the car.

The door to the flat swung open and Oliver dropped his bag to the floor, not bothering to unpack or toss anything in the washer. His season was over, there was no need to. Stevie was quick to greet them both, but shifted his attention to Bo when Oliver hardly gave him a pat on the head. Instead, he made a beeline to the fridge. Pulling out two cold beers, he opened the bottles and walked to the couch. He slumped into the cushions, placing one of the open bottles on the coffee table and taking a long drink from the other. A satisfied, but exhausted, sigh escaped his lips as he let his head fall back against the couch. He rolled his head to the side to look at Bo, “You comin’ or what?” He asked, a small grin pulling at his lips.

[oliverabbott--20-blog]

bo-wiltshire:

She barely got out a halfhearted smile before he was pulling her into a hug. Bo wrapped her arms around his back, pressing her cheek to the side of his head. A moment passed and she tightened her hold on him. “Where else would I be?” she retorted, pulling back slightly to flash him a small smile. The comfort was gone in a split second when she took notice of the discoloring around his eye and her eyebrows furrowed, one of her hands traveling up to trace the purpleing skin with her fingertips. “What happened?” she asked, tightening her jaw when she realized it was the wrong question. “Who bloody did it?” it came out stern and demanding, her eyes scanning their surroundings. “M’gonna kick the shit outta them.”

Oliver took comfort in her embrace and wanted nothing more than for the two of them to just go home. He was exhausted, physically and emotionally, and just wanted to disappear. His arms remained wrapped around her waist when she pulled away a bit, and Oliver noticed the shift in her demeanor. He was naive to think pulling up the hood of his sweater would hide his black eye from her. He winced a little at her touch, the cut below his eyebrow still tender. “Elbow to the face. Three guesses who,” he answered with a scoff, a bit of venom in his words. As though he had heard them, the door leading from both teams locker rooms opened and screams of “Altidore!” echoed through the tunnel walkway. Oliver’s jaw clenched and his gaze dropped to his feet, taking a bit of the hem Bo’s shirt in his hand as though that would stop her from doing anything. The distraught footballer looked up at Bo, sadness reading all over his face, “Can we go home?”

[oliverabbott--20-blog]

 bo-wiltshire:

@oliverabbott–20

There were three things that Bo Wiltshire was absolutely sure of in the waning minutes after the Eastern Conference Championship in Toronto. One. She was soaking wet and cold. Two. She was exhausted and her throat was sore from yelling for nearly one-hundred and twenty minutes. And three. She was absolutely, one hundred percent, empathetically upset. Which, considering who she was, was a completely new and confusing feeling to her.

Standing outside the locker room in the drizzle was oddly therapeutic for Bo. She’d grown up with rain, the faint patter of the droplets hitting the ground nearly lulled her into a daze, mind wandering. She’d just watched Oliver play the game of his life and while Montreal had come up short – something that sent a small burst of anger through her gut – she hadn’t been so invested in a game of football in her life. Which was strange considering her loyalty to Arsenal and their quality. And maybe she was frustrated and angry and annoyed but she was also content and happy and…. and proud. She’d never been proud of someone in her life and yet there she was, proud of Oliver Abbott for coming up short in a championship game.

Letting out a sigh, the breath leaving her lips to puff out in front of her face, Bo ran a hand through her wet hair. Dani had been right. She was getting soft. Which didn’t really concern her as much as it used to. If getting soft meant she could potentially spend the rest of her life with Oliver then she wouldn’t fight her shift into living a normal life. She’d practically welcome it.

The locker room was dead silent, except for the sound of running water. No champagne was being popped, no music was being played. The guys were hardly even looking at each other. They all were wearing their emotions on their sleeves and the disappointment on their faces. Silently, Oliver showered and got dressed into his sweats, pulling his hood up over his head.

Gym bag draped over his shoulder and a bag of ice in hand for his black eye, Oliver exited the dressing room and scanned the small crowd until he saw Bo. The corners of his lips turned ever so slightly upward when he saw her, making a beeline right to her. Over the flimsy rope barricade that separated them, Oliver pulled her closer without a word. Wrapping his arms tightly around her waist, he buried his head into the crook of her neck and took a deep breath. “Thanks for being here,” he sighed, the first words he had uttered since the final whistle.

[montreal94-7]

Have Bo and Oliver become a thing yet? Or are they still insisting on slowburning their relationship?

That is a great question. And one I don’t even have the answer to. I hope they had some hot hospital sex after they made out and Bo was feeling better. If not, they have plenty of chances to do that when they go home together and have a cute, gross date night and fall in love even more. Awe. Adorable.

[oliverabbott--20-blog]

↳ INSTAGRAM: Oliver Abbott uploaded a new photo

I’m not sure @bo-wiltshire is really liking this cold weather very much 😆

↳ 5.3K LIKES, 1.2K COMMENTS

[montreal94-7]

                                    MONTREAL AWARD                  MOST BACON-Y SMELLING ARMPITS                         NUMBER ONE SWEETHEARTS                                   Oliver Abbott ft. Bo Wiltshire

[bo-wiltshire-blog]

@oliverabbott–20

[oliverabbott--20-blog]

Tear In My Heart | Oliver + Bo

[oliverabbott--20-blog]

 bo-wiltshire:

“Never said that,” Bo replied, shaking her head slightly. She hated sleeping on her back. It reminded her of the simple fact that she wasn’t in her own bed. But she couldn’t move, the slightest shift sent a quick spurt of pain through her and Bo inhaled sharply, tensing. In an attempt to stave off the blackness that was creeping into the corners of her vision she listened intently to his voice, to his breathing, felt how his shoulders shifted as he inhaled and exhaled evenly. “You a… tough guy now?” she let out a short laugh that sounded more like a pathetic wheeze than anything else and smirked. It at least didn’t hurt to do that. “People might… might so you’re spendin’ too much… too much time ‘round me.” She let out another sad attempt at a laugh, grimacing a few moments later. “M’a bad influence,” she mumbled, swallowing and letting her eyes droop slightly.

“Yeah, well, you were thinking it,” he weakly rebutted, letting his eyes close as he spoke. Oliver focused on his breathing, afraid that any unnecessary movement would cause Bo pain. “He was fine. I barely touched him and he rolled around on the ground like I broke his fuckin’ ankle,” he huffed, remembering the play of the game that saw his first card of the season. “Hey, I’ve always been tough,” he said defiantly, a crease appearing in his brow, “And I could never spend too much time ‘roud you.” His words were starting to drip with exhaustion, the adrenaline of the night finally wearing off.

[oliverabbott--20-blog]

Tear In My Heart | Oliver + Bo

[oliverabbott--20-blog]

bo-wiltshire:

Bo smirked. She at least had the energy to do that, a small curve of her lips at his words. A flash of smugness shot through her and the feeling was enough to steady her beating heart once she realized he’d let go of her hand. “What’re–” she lifted her head slightly, muscles in her neck straining as she watched him settle in next to her. She couldn’t say that she was all that surprised – but it was an odd sort of serenity that washed over her. When she’d become this vulnerable to him – to his presences and his voice and the way he smelled – was beyond her, but it had happened and it was real and she was far too tired to fight it now or probably ever. “If you… if you hog… covers,” she started, turning her head sideways to brush her cheek against his shoulder. “Imma kick you… kick you out.”

Oliver fell into the bed, enjoying the slight comfort the mattress and pillow provided over the chair. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, smiling when he felt Bo brush her cheek against his shoulder. Instinctively, he turned his head and gently pressed his lips to her forehead. “I’m better company than Patty and you know it,” he teased. “Don’t worry, that’s why I grabbed the other one. Just in case,” he said. Oliver took a second to look down at the woman pressed into his side. While the place and the circumstance wasn’t ideal, Oliver still felt a wave of happiness and relief wash over him. “So,” Oliver cleared his throat, “We lost the game. Three to one. And I got my first card of the season.” While talking about this wasn’t exactly necessary, he figured it might provide Bo something else to focus other than how bad she was hurting. And there was no way he was going to force her to sleep.

[oliverabbott--20-blog]

Tear In My Heart | Oliver + Bo

[bo-wiltshire-blog]

For a moment Bo wondered if she had been given medication – there was a fog in her head, the tension that had been there a moment ago had lessened considerably. But maybe that was just Oliver’s hand in her own. Maybe it was his touch, his lips across her knuckles. The steady inhale and exhale of his breathing. “No,” she mumbled stubbornly, shaking her head. She’d done nothing but sleep for the past few hours. She felt restless in a sense even though she couldn’t even imagine trying to move. “You,” she replied at the question, a small smirk creasing the corners of her lips. “Just… just you.”

[oliverabbott--20-blog]

Oliver grinned and shook his head, “You are, by far, one of the most stubborn people I know,” he said in a hushed but amused tone. Oliver grinned, a common side effect when Bo spoke to him. Standing from the chair and hesitantly releasing Bo’s hand, Oliver grabbed the extra pillow and blanket from the empty bed behind him. Draping the blanket over the end of Bo’s bed, Oliver moved around to the other side and kicked off his shoes. Gently, he laid down on the somewhat rough sheets, placing the pillow behind his head. Hospital beds were generally larger than regular beds, Oliver assumed for this exact reason, and he was thankful.

[bo-wiltshire-blog]

@oliverabbott–20

[oliverabbott--20-blog]

Tear In My Heart | Oliver + Bo

[bo-wiltshire-blog]

But it did matter. Good things didn’t happen to her. Not unless they were going to get taken away later. And if there was anything Bo wanted in the world it was Oliver safe. The small bubble of panic that welled in her stomach nearly made her sick and she tried to drag in a breath, feeling the hot air of the small room rake down her throat. She panted, clenching her jaw briefly to get herself under control. Her freaking out wasn’t going to do anything except make things worse. Make Oliver nervous.

All she could do was look at him. She wasn’t frozen because she didn’t think she had the energy to tense every muscle in her body but Bo did know that caring was awfully close to love and that… that the feeling thundering against her chest was caring then she didn’t mind feeling the ache for the rest of her life. “So bloody… bloody cheesy,” she remarked after a long second of silence, the only thing able to be heard was the beeping of the monitor and the sad excuse of her breathing. Bo swallowed thickly and nodded her head, tightening her grip on his hand. “I… you,” she nodded again, blinking, like it took everything in her to do so. “I… I care… too.”

[oliverabbott--20-blog]

Oliver could see how much pain Bo was in as she tried to take a deep breath, and all he wanted to do was take it away. He’d switch places with her if it meant she didn’t have to feel what she was feeling now. But, for now, all he could do was reassure her with a squeeze of his hand that he wasn’t gong anywhere. Oliver chuckled as she teased him, happy to see that the Bo he knew was still there. He took a deep breath when she spoke, relieved to hear her say those words and quite internally ecstatic he hadn’t just made a huge ass out of himself. Gently, Oliver brought Bo’s hand up to meet his lips, rubbing his thumb over her skin as he sat up a bit. “You need to get some rest, Bo,” he said quietly, his free hand moving to push some stray hairs out of her face, “Do you want me to get you anything?”

[oliverabbott--20-blog]

Tear In My Heart | Oliver + Bo

[bo-wiltshire-blog]

The next few moments happened in a blur – at least that’s what it felt like to Bo. One minute Patty had entered the door, then next she was leaving. Had she fallen asleep? No, she couldn’t have. She remembered Patty talking to her but there wasn’t anything Bo could do but blink and off the smallest of nods. She didn’t want the medicine – Oliver wouldn’t be able to be around her if she had it, even though he’d probably insist that he’d be okay. Which would have been a lie, obviously, and he didn’t need to deal with anything more on top of her being an idiot.

His words filtered into her pain ridden mind, wavering in and out of her ear and for a moment she wasn’t quite sure she’d understood him. How could he promise something like that to someone like her? How could he sit there next to her, say the things he was saying, promise the things he’d just promised, asked her if she needed anything like he was actually thinking of staying and taking care of her when he – he had games and training and the post season? “How…” she managed to get out, taking a moment to swallow, eyebrows furrowing, “… how did I… find you..?” Bo hadn’t meant it to be about any specific point in time. It was just that she didn’t deserve him and yet she’d found him. Had it been fate? A stupid concept that Bo didn’t believe in. But maybe it had been gravity? She could see that.

[oliverabbott--20-blog]

He thought she was gonna ask him the logistics of how he was going to stay with her. That’d be the normally logical question for Bo to ask. But instead she asked something else, a question that didn’t really have an answer. Really, Oliver thought that should be a question he would ask her. He had met this person who was kind and generous and never gave herself nearly enough credit for the good person she was, and she somehow found a way to become a permanent and wanted fixture in his life. Oliver considered himself the lucky one, no matter how often he might find himself in this god-forsaken hospital.

“Doesn’t matter, Bo,” he shrugged, a warm smile on his face. “All that matters is that we did, yeah?” Oliver took a deep breath, the first one that felt somewhat relaxed since he had gotten here. “I was so scared when Gideon called me,” he admitted, eyes focused on their hands. “I care about you, Bo. I care about you a lot. And if my actions don’t speak loudly enough, I just wanted to say it so you know. I want you to know that.”

[oliverabbott--20-blog]

Tear In My Heart | Oliver + Bo

[bo-wiltshire-blog]

It was strange. Of all the things she wasn’t sure of – how she’d gotten there, why she hurt so much, what had happened – the one thing she did know was that seeing Oliver sitting next to her beside was possibly the best thing she’d ever woken up to. Sure she was in a hospital and sure every time she took a breath it felt like she was dying but he was there – he was there and he hadn’t left. 

She let a smirk cross her lips. At least she hoped it looked like one, witty, edged with a little bit of sass. Bo wanted to feel like she usually did, in control and strong, even if she was currently confined to a bed. His hand shifted and she tracked the movement with her eyes, though it was slow and tiring to do so, her head shifting on the pillow as she watched as he pressed the call button – she didn’t need to see it well to know what it was. This wasn’t the first time she’d been in a hospital bed but it was the first time she’d at least felt safe in one.

He was suddenly hovering over her and Bo was left with very little to do but stare up at him, wondering distantly when he’d gotten there. The hands against the sides of her face were soft, a little course, but the sensation was enough to nearly lull her into unconsciousness and when she blinked it felt like an eternity before she saw him again. And then he was staring down at her – like he was trying to see her through all the layers and walls and stubbornness – before he shifted forward.

The kiss left her breathless and she wasn’t sure it was because she was terrible at breathing right now or because it had actually left her breathless, but she was kissing him back all the same. When he pulled away a short moment after she let out a ragged sigh, closing her eyes for a moment and licking her lips. “Glad…” she trailed off, swallowing, a frown tilting her lips because she just wanted to talk – she wanted to talk him without sounding like she was dying. He didn’t need to be worried about her. “Glad… “ she tried again, voice hears and shallow, “you’re… you’re ‘ere…” New movement caught her and she she turned her head slightly, though the hand in her own was an all too familiar feeling and she gave his hand a squeeze. She’d never ever needed someone but Bo realized that if needing someone felt like this then she’d been missing out for a long, long time.

[oliverabbott--20-blog]

“Oliver, did you take that mask off of her?” Patty scolded, somewhat playfully, as she entered the room, taking in the sight of the two of them. “How ya feelin’, Bo?” Patty asked rhetorically, starting to take her vitals. The experienced nurse gave a simple run-down to Bo of her injuries and requested that she simply rest as much as she could for tonight. She also made it clear to Bo that, if at any point, she wanted pain medication, they would provide it for her. But, for now, she fighting it on her own. 

Patty then turned to Oliver, “I’m relying on you to make sure she takes this seriously. She shouldn’t try to talk and that mask should be on as much as possible. I know it’s annoying, but it’ll help her breathing. Only give her ice chips until the doctor says otherwise. And she definitely shouldn’t be getting up from this bed,” she slid Bo’s chart back into the slot at the end of her bed and looked at Oliver for confirmation. “Yes, ma’am,” he agreed politely with a nod, following her with his eyes until she shut the door behind her.

His attention turned to Bo again immediately, fingers tightly interlaced with hers. “I’m glad I’m here too,” he leaned forward, both elbows resting against the mattress. “And I promise you I’m not leaving either," he said, already intending to call his manager the next moment Bo’s eyes closed. Regardless of whether she thought she could handle this on her own or not, Oliver didn’t care to be anywhere else anyway. “Do you want me to get you anything?”

[oliverabbott--20-blog]

Tear In My Heart | Oliver + Bo

[bo-wiltshire-blog]

Voices. That was the first thing her foggy mind registered. Voices and that they were familiar ones. That was a start, right? Not just a minute ago the only thing she knew was darkness. A never ending black that she couldn’t seem to get out of. But not now. Now there were voices and sounds and feelings that hadn’t been there before.

The second? Pain. Lots and lots of pain. But unlike the voices the pain had been there for some time – a radiation of constant ache. She couldn’t move without a sharp surge of agony so she stayed still, content on focusing on inhaling and exhaling. But even that, too, hurt. And she could argue that the simple act of breathing hurt the most. There was a tight pull across her chest every time it rose, accompanied by a small flash of fire. She could feel sweat beading across her brow, feel her raw throat and aching muscles. But it was better than feeling like she was drowning.

And the third thing she noticed? That there was a hand in hers that defiantly hadn’t been there before. Fingertips against her forehead, then a small pressure – soft, gentle, protective.

The voice wavered into her mind then and a single name echoed – Ollie. Her eyes slid open, if only a fraction of an inch, and there he was, looking horribly concerned and conflicted. Of course concerned and conflicted for Ollie was the equivalent of a total mental breakdown for anyone else. She wanted to take the god awful thing covering her mouth off but for some reason she couldn’t move her arm. A beat passed and she realized it was secured snugly to her chest. Her other hand was preoccupied with holding onto Ollie’s and if she’d had the strength to, she would have rolled her eyes. Once she focused on his face through the small slits of her half opened eyelids, Bo could see the tears starting. Of course, a voice in the back of her head sighed. Of course.

Stop it. Her lips parted, the words forming but for some reason she couldn’t find her voice. Couldn’t muster enough strength to even insult him back. She let out a sigh, aggravation slipping into the way her lips curved downwards and how she fidgeted slightly in the bed. “Git…” she managed to get out, though she wasn’t quite sure he’d be able to hear her. The breathing mask over her mouth fogged with her breath but it was constricting, too. She didn’t like it. A slight tug of her hand in his told him she wanted it off, eyes imploring him to understand the small movement.

[oliverabbott--20-blog]

Oliver held onto Bo’s hand tightly, the fingertips of his free hand traced mindless shapes onto her skin. He took a deep and shaky sigh before looking back up at her face, shocked her see her eyes open. The were struggling to stay that way, but clearly focused on him. “Bo?” he said quietly, turning his whole body to face her. She seemed to slowly be taking in her surroundings, realizing that other her arm was secured to her chest and that she had a face mask on. All things he knew would annoy her.

As she looked back to him, Oliver could tell she was trying to say something. He couldn’t hear anything, but her mask fogged up with hot breath. He couldHe leaned in a little closer to her, just in time to hear her call him a git. He chuckled and shook his head, sniffing a little as he smiled at her. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to hear you call me that,” he joked, turning around with his free hand to press the nurse call button on the wall. As he turned back around, he felt her hug at his hand. He knew she wanted the mask off, and so he sighed, figuring he could at least grant her that for a moment.

Oliver stood, releasing her hand and gently moved the mask away from her mouth and nose. Putting his hands on either side of her face, his thumbs rubbing gently against her skin, locked eyes with her. In a beat, Oliver was gently pressing his lips to hers, only lingering for a moment before pulling away. “I’m glad you’re going to be okay,” he said, barely coming across as a whisper. The door suddenly opened behind Oliver and he turned to see Patty. He sat back down in his chair next to the bed, taking Bo’s hand once again into his.