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veronicaphoenix · 4 months

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Series: Into the Abyss of Bad Habits | masterpost Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Reader x Oliver Sykes

Hearts Like Ours. Additional multipart. Chapter 2: The Angel of Death | Words: 8k Summary: The morning after her breakdown, Reader does not expect to get any better until a certain person unexpectedly appears at her front door.

Tags and trigger warnings: established polyamorous relationship, angst, hard truths, anxiety, mentions of parent's negligence, comfort/fluff, noah only appears on phone in this part but he's mentioned throughout the entirety of the chapter, soft!oli, mentions of blowjobs, sexual content (spit used as lubricant, p. in v., protected).

Author’s note: this is mostly self-indulgent so bear with me, i love softness 🥹 It's also another attempt at writing something short and ending up with 8k 🫠 Regarding tags, I'm trying something new and tagging everybody down below in the comment section, given that as of lately a few people have reached out to tell me they didn't get the notification and I've read somewhere that tags indeed are not working well. So let's see if this does the trick.

When she woke up the next morning, her neck and stomach ached, a remainder that she had skipped dinner the night before. Sitting up, the two shirts she had slept with clung to her and then fell to the floor, reminding her why she had chosen to sleep on the sofa instead of the bed. She was alone. Noah wouldn’t be home for another three days, and Oliver was lost somewhere in the southern United States.

It was Saturday. How was she supposed to spend the entire day alone at home, with no work and no one around? She felt even more pathetic than she had the night before. What was happening to her? She hadn��t always been this dependent; she hadn’t always felt this miserable.

But then again, it wasn’t every day that your mother hurled insults at you and made you feel dirty in a way that was far from the real thing.

She ran her hands over her face. If only Luna were here... Given her age, Oliver had decided not to bring her to America, and now his father, Ian, was taking care of her.

Last year, they had talked about adopting a dog, mostly so she would have company when the boys were away, but with work and the idea of getting married, adoption had been pushed aside. Now she regretted not insisting more.

Still holding the shirts, she went upstairs and made a quick trip to the bathroom, overwhelmed by another wave of misery as she caught sight of herself in the mirror—eyes swollen from yesterday’s crying and her face as pale as a ghost. The sight of Noah’s and Oliver’s toiletries—their toothbrushes, shaving cream, face wash from different brands, a facemask Oliver had recently got from Lush…—only deepened her sadness.

Her deep sigh echoed in the empty space.

She had to eat something and get out of the house, get some sun and fresh air. She’d told Jack she would visit Sylvie, but the truth was she didn’t feel like it. She was happy for them. She was going to be an aunt. But she was feeling so blue that, she knew if she met Sylvie, both would end up crying, for totally different reasons.

So, she opted to tidy up and spend the day cleaning. That’s one of the things Noah used to do whenever his mind was not in the right place.

Before breakfast, she checked her phone, tempted to message the boys and tell them she was going through hell, that she couldn’t silence the voices in her head —especially her mother’s— and that she needed them because she felt like she was sinking. She wanted to swim to the surface but felt like she had a rock tied to her ankle, and she would probably drag herself to the bottom before they came home.

She hated being aware of the self-destruction her own mind subjected her to and not being able to do anything to stop it. It was a battle against herself that she couldn’t win. A battle she had fought before, and although it seemed she had won many times, those demons always came back sooner or later.

In the end, she just let Noah and Oliver know she was awake and, to distract them, sent a couple of photos of her underwear abandoned on the floor when she changed into somehting more decent. She knew that spending the whole day in pajamas would only worsen her state.

In the kitchen, she made herself a cup of tea and something to eat.

After having lunch on the back porch and letting herself be caressed by the sun in one of the hammocks, she went back inside, ready to spend the next few hours watching a comforting movie on the couch. Or perhaps an angsty one, and cry a few more tears. What did it matter now?

She remembered then she hadn’t picked up the mail for the past four or five days. A mix of excitemend and dread flooded her at the thought that maybe Oliver had sent a postcard from wherever he was, even if it was just from somewhere else in the country. He’d started doing that the previous year, and it was a sweet gesture that always warmed her heart.

Stepping outside, she found her neighbor Marina tending to her plants and flowers in the front yard, a lovely married woman in her forties with two children. They greeted each other, and Marina asked about the boys. She replied that there were still a few days left before they returned, and Marina, probably sensing her sadness, kindly suggested joining her at her house any afternoon for tea. It was a comforting gesture, though still far from the kind she truly wanted.

With only a couple of letter in her hands and no postcard from Oliver, she made her way back to the front door, only taking a couple of steps before the sound of a car pulling into the driveway and stopping made her turn around. The sight of the black Range Rover made her heart flip and almost lose her balance.

Oliver stepped out of the car, closing the door behind him without taking his eyes off her. During the short walk toward her, his green gaze remained steady and unwavering. He wore casual jeans and a t-shirt, exuding calm determination.

Before she could even react, he was in front of her, gently holding her face in his hands, and then he kissed her.

Her hands instinctively moved to his chest, her right one still clutching the envelopes. However she could, her fingers gripped his black tee tightly, as if fearing he might disappear at any moment.

His mouth was warm, his kiss passionate and urgent. She was left nearly breathless.

When she finally lowered herself from standing on her tiptoes and opened her eyes, her heart was pounding wildly.

“What are you doing here?” she managed to say, it being the only coherent thought she could muster. In truth, she didn’t care about the answer. It was enough that he was there in the flesh.

Oliver let out a sardonic smile. “Hello to you too, love,” he said, poking her nose. “Where am I supposed to be when my girl needs me?”

His words stunned her for a few seconds as he took her hand and stroked the back of it with his thumb.

Of course, it had to be Jack who told him.

“But—What about the tour? How did you get here so fast?” She asked, still gripping his t-shirt with one hand.

“We’d better go inside,” he suggested, nodding towards the house next door where Marina was watching them absently as she trimmed the dried leaves from her plants. Oliver waved at her, asking how she was with the easy charm of a gentleman.

Marina would have chatted for quite a while, likely making mention of his girl’s mood and asking Oliver the very questions she wanted answers to. But Oliver, sensing this, skillfully dissuaded her in less than thirty seconds, practically dragging his girl inside the house.

Once inside, with the door closed behind them, she dropped the letters on a small table in the entryway and threw herself into his arms, bursting into tears on the spot.

Having Oliver there, being able to hold him, inhale his masculine scent mingled with his perfume, and feel the brush of his long hair against her cheeks, felt like a miracle.

“Please, don’t go.”

“Love, I just got here.”

“I know, but I’m sure you’ll have to leave again in a couple of hours.”

With a resigned sigh, Oliver took her hand and guided them both into the living room, settling onto the couch.

Oliver observed her silently for a moment, studying her face for signs of the previous day’s tears and the sleepless night. They were all there, all too evident.

He gently stroked her cheek, and she leaned into his touch, savoring the moment, the warmth of his skin against hers.

“I can stay until tomorrow night,” Oliver murmured softly. “As soon as Jack called me, I booked the first available flight out of Houston. We have two days off until the next show. I have to be in Kansas City the day after tomorrow. But please, don’t worry about that now. What the hell happened?”

She struggled before mustering the courage to tell him.

She began with a vague summary of the events, but Oliver insisted on the details, wanting to know every word her mother had spoken.

She watched as he clenched his jaw, holding back a torrent of curses.

As a few more tears traced down her cheeks, Oliver gently pulled her into his embrace and fetched a box of tissues from a nearby coffee table.

“Why didn’t you wait until Noah and I were back?” He questioned, watching her wipe her tears. “We said we’d tell her together, precisely to avoid this,” he said, not intending to scold her but clearly unsettled by her decision to face her mother alone.

“I know, but I couldn’t shake the thought, and I didn’t want her saying anything hurtful to you, so I thought I could handle it on my own,” she confessed, sniffling into the tissue then dropping it on the coffee table.

“And did it do you any good?” Oliver asked, his tone soft, his gaze tender as he peered at her.

“No,” she replied, shaking her head, defeated. “It just made everything worse. I’ve spent the last twenty-four hours feeling miserable and missing you both terribly. Last night, I felt like I couldn’t breathe without you guys around. I just wanted to protect you…” she trailed off, her voice heavy.

“I know,” Oliver murmured, gently touching her face again. “But we protect each other, don’t we? We’re stronger together. If Noah and I feel low, we lean on you, and you make us feel better. That’s how it works. You have to let us do the same, doll. It’s taking you too long to get rid of this habit.”

She sighed, but she knew he was right.

“If you keep everything to yourself, then what’s the point of this? Of us? Of being in any relationship, for that matter?” Oliver continued, his eyes reflecting her own sadness. “We’re together because we love each other, and by love I mean that we’re by each other’s side under any circumstance. Loving us is not just you giving me and Noah blowjobs and letting us have our ways with you, baby. Loving us means you’ll let us know when you’re anxious, when you’re sad or angry. You’ll let us help you because we want and we love every part of you—the good, the bad, and everything in between. Wasn’t that clear?”

His words made her feel terrible, very aware of her mistakes, but she deserved it. If anything, to at least make her understand for once and for all that she had to lay her head on their shoulders whenever she needed, without a second of hesitation.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just hard… because loving also implies that you don’t want the other person to get hurt, and all I was doing was…” she trailed off. There was no point. Her voice turned into a whisper and then into desperation fading into nothing.

Oliver squeezed her hand and placed it on his thigh, speaking gently.

“Listen, I know this is hard to accept, but you don’t owe anything to your mother,” he began. “Our parents made us, but we’re not meant for them. You’re meant for me and Noah. Everything else, everyone else, is just a bystander to your story. You can’t force them to be a part of your life if they don’t want to, darling. It sucks. It fucking sucks because sometimes you want people to be part of your life so bad… but they don’t want to be; they don’t want to share your happiness, they might not even understand it, and that’s okay.” When he saw her face, Oliver chuckled softly. “I’m not saying that the things your mom said were okay, but you get my point. You’re not meant to live your life by your mom’s wishes or follow in her footsteps. You don’t have to walk with her. You’re walking with Noah and me.”

Seen that way, from that perspective, Oliver was undeniably right.

She had spent much of her life trying to please her mother, striving to be a perfect daughter even when she wasn’t consciously aware of it. Since formalizing her relationship with Noah and Oliver, she had come to realize how many decisions she had made in the past with her mother in mind rather than herself. And now, with her mother’s rejection of her relationship with the boys, all that weight came crashing down on her.

Her mother didn’t want her, didn’t want a daughter like her. But as a parent, there’s only so much control one can have. She wasn’t a child anymore, she was an adult, and she had done nothing wrong. She had simply fallen in love. Hard and twice.

Loving wasn’t a crime, and as much as it pained her not to be able to share that happiness with her mother, as much as her mother couldn’t see how happy Oliver and Noah made her, she realized that her attempts to make her mother understand had to come to an end. After all, Oliver’s words spoke the truth: the most important people were the two of them, her fiancés.

Staring at the ring on her finger as realization dawned on her, she was filled with profound sadness. She had lost her father long ago, a man who had chosen to go his own way, unable to wait until his children were old enough to let them walk their own path and make their own decisions. And now, she felt she had lost her mother, too.

One parent had not waited to see her grow up; had not held her hand as she learned to walk the path of life. The other one was unwilling to see her walk hand in hand with two men.

Tears welled up in her eyes once more before she could stop them. She was a mess.

“I know it hurts,” Oliver’s voice soothed her, his hand running gently throught her hair, “but you gotta let it hurt until it doesn’t anymore. There are some things we cannot change, and this, I’m afraid, is one of them, baby.”

Seeking solace, she moved to straddle him, unable to bear the distance anymore. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her head on his shoulder, tears streaming down her cheeks and staining Oliver’s tee’s fabric. She let him envelop her in his embrace, pressing herself against his body as he held her close. He placed a couple of tender kisses on her shoulder and neck, offering her the comfort she needed.

She remained in his arms for a while, relishing the warmth of his body, the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat against her own, and the security of being in his arms. His whispered words of comfort in her ear were like a balm to her troubled soul.

She could easily drift off to sleep there, cocooned in his arms , feeling grateful that Oliver had dropped everything just to come home and be with her.

“Did you tell Noah?” She whispered, her lips brushing against his neck as she resisted the urge to move even an inch away from him.

“Yes, of course I did,” he replied, his hand finding the hem of her shirt and sneaking in to rub her back. She was soft as silk and he would be lying if he said he hadn’t missed the feel of her skin under his hands every single day and night he spent away. “But I want you to call him and talk to him. He’s worried.”

The sigh that escaped her this time was heavy.

“What?” Oliver said, teasing her. “Did you think that picture of your underwear on the bedroom floor was going to do the trick?”

She shrugged, not particularly caring.

“Come on,” he encouraged, pullling out his iPhone, resolute on not extending that dispiriting situation any second longer. “He might still be up.”

Without a chance to compose herself or check her appearance in the mirror, Oliver was already Facetiming Noah.

As soon as Noah’s face appeared on the screen, looking all cozied up in a hoddie and sat on his hotel bed, he saw her curled up in Oliver’s lap, her head resting on his shoulder with her tear-stained face, and his expression fell. Noah clicked his tongue, his brown eyes filling with sadness.

“Kitten..”

She tried to hold back another wave of tears and sobs. She sniffled and attempted to smile. But as soon as she uttered “I miss you”, she had to take a moment to steady her breathing and control her sobbing. Oliver pressed a kiss to her forehead.

A few moments were filled only with her soft crying, then, with some self-control, in the quiet of the house, she began to talk to Noah, recounting every hurtful thing her mother had said. Instead of feeling tortured by reliving those moments, she focused on the relief of sharing her pain with her boys, feeling lighter now that they knew.

Noah did his best to offer comfort from the other end of the line, though he knew it wasn’t a simple fix. He was just grateful that Oliver had rushed home to be with her, knowing that besides words of reassurance, she needed their physical presence.

Just as much as she needed them, he needed her and Oliver.

All those nights on the road, sleeping in bunk beds or alone in hotel rooms, had been manageable until he fell in love. Suddenly, sleeping alone felt like a punishment for every misstep in life. He understood her perfectly. And considering what her mother had said… Fuck. All he wanted was to be there for her, to hold her while Oliver comforted her, feeling complete with them by his side.

It was late where he was, and she could tell from the exhaustion etched in his eyes. Her own state wasn’t helping him at all, so she mustered the strength to encourage him to end the call and get the rest he needed. He promised her he’d be home soon. Just a few more days. Nothing would keep him from coming back home to her.

After hanging up, Oliver tenderly touched her face, his thumb stroking the side of her jaw as she breathed against him.

“You look tired, too,” he remarked.

“I didn’t sleep much last night,” she admitted.

“Want to take a nap? I could use one myself,” he suggested.

With a nod, she attempted to rise from his lap, but Oliver shook his head. He grabbed a folded blanket from the sectional and urged her to lay down as he nestled in beside her, letting her find a comfortable position with her head on his chest and her legs intertwined with his.

He enveloped her and covered them both with the blanket. He kissed her hair tenderly and she reciprocated by pressing a kiss to his clavicle. After exchanging whispered “I love yous”, she finally allowed herself to drift off to sleep, comforted by the presence of at least one of her boys being home.

Despite his own exhaustion after an impromptu flight and the whirlwind of the past twenty-four hours, Oliver found it difficult to fall assleep. He waited until her soft breathing indicated she was in a deep slumber before carefully disentangling himself from her arms and legs.

Ensuring she was covered with the blanket, he tiptoed to the kitchen, where he leaned with his forearms against the cool marble tiles of the island as he unlocked his phone and texted Noah.

Oliver: Still up?

Noah: Yep. Can’t sleep.

Without a second thought, he dialed his number, making sure to keep his voice low as to avoid waking her up. By the time he had filled a glass with water, Noah’s voice was on his ear.

“What’s up? Is she feeling any better?” Noah asked.

“She’s passed out on the sofa,” Oliver informed him after taking a sip. “But she looks tired, and sad,” he continued, glancing towards the open hallway door that lead to the living room, as if he could see her. He could picture her gloomy features from before she’d fallen asleep. “How about you coming back earlier? Could you make it?” He asked, aware of the significant distance separating them. Noah was in Europe, not just a few states away. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but if you could make it, give her a surprise, cheer her up… She doesn’t just need me. She needs both of us. And,” he made a pause before changing his tone, “you owe me a blowjob.”

“I don’t owe you a blowjob,” Noah replied, his voice rising slightly. “You didn’t send those tacos, man.”

“I’ll drive you to the damn restaurant.”

“Needy, huh?”

“Very. I want to see you before I hit the road again,” he admitted, then softened again. “She needs you here, Noah. Think you can make it earlier than scheduled?”

“Yeah, yeah…” he trailed off, as if preoccupied with something else. Oliver heard the clicking of a keyboard, muffled in the background. “I was actually just checking flights…”

“Oh, good.”

“The first one is in three hours. I could catch that one and—”

“In three hours?” Oliver exclaimed, furrowing his brow. “Dude, get some sleep first. I didn’t mean for you to—”

“I can’t sleep knowing she’s upset because of what her mom said to her,” Noah retorted, setting his MacBook aside and getting up from the bed. “We have a couple of interviews scheduled for tomorrow, but I’ll ask Jolly and Folio to handle them. I’m nearly done with my packing, so I can head to the airport in less than twenty minutes. If I catch that flight, I can make it home tomorrow before evening.”

“Fuck. Okay. That’s great. It’ll give us a few hours together.”

“Yeah, just come pick me up at the airport, all right?” he concluded. “Keep her distracted with something. Tell her you’re going to get a haircut.”

“Dude, she’s going to be glued to me the whole time because I’m leaving tomorrow night. And a haircut? That would be the lamest excuse after I left my own tour to be home with her. You have the worst ideas,” he complained as he shook his head. “Can you not get an Uber?”

“Just come pick me up,” Noah said, resolute, “and you’ll get that damn blowjob.”

An hour and a half later, her voice calling out for Oliver echoed through the walls of the house’s ground floor.

Oliver appeared at the threshold of the archway into the living room, holding a tray with pastries and two mugs of hot chocolate.

She blinked a few times, rubbing her eyes with one hand still half-covered by the fluffy blanket. Oliver struggled to decide if she looked adorable or too tempting to resist making love to her right there on the sofa.

“Am I dreaming?” She mumbled, prompting Oliver to let out a chuckle.

“Nah,” he replied, walking towards her. “These croissants were frozen. I thought Noah got rid of them after his lecture on how unhealthy and useless it is to buy frozen food, but surprise: he didn’t. So now I get to treat you,” he finished, setting the tray next to her. The smell of freshly baked croissants and hot chocolate filled her senses, and for a moment, everything felt perfect.

She gave him a tiny smile.

“Just don’t tell him I baked them for us,” Oliver added, his tone hushed, as if Noah was there and could hear them. He had changed into more comfortable clothes and was now wearing a white t-shirt and dark grey sweatpants she had washed and ironed more than two weeks ago.

“I will tell him,” she whispered, with a hint of mischief in her voice. Her sleepy face, however, made her look more adorable than mischievous.

Oliver rolled his eyes. “He’ll make me wear the maid costume and cook homemade sugar-free croissants for him as punishment.”

“You look adorable in that, though,” she commented, grabbing one of the croissants and using her other hand to catch the crumbs.

“Do I, now?”

She nodded, her mouth already stuffed with a big bite. Oliver smiled and touched the corner of her lower lip, wiping away a crumb with his thumb.

“Feeling any better?”

Swallowing, she nodded.

“What do you feel like doing?” he asked, still concerned. He had dropped everything to be home with her, so he would only do as she pleased. “Movie and cuddles?” he guessed. “We can take it easy and spend the rest of the day snuggled in here. We don’t have to go anywhere. We’ll order takeout for dinner, then maybe a hot bath before bed.”

She absorbed his words, blinking and chewing slowly.

That sounded like… Heaven.

Instead of quickly agreeing to his appeal, which was irresistible, she asked, “What time do you have to be at the airport tomorrow?” There was a note of anguish in her voice because she dreaded the answer. She just wanted him to stay for a while longer, to extend that dreamlike weekend that was, in fact, her real life.

“Not ‘til late at night. We have the entire day together tomorrow, don’t worry,” he reassured her again, taking his mug of hot chocolate to his lips. She watched as the dark brown liquid touched his lips and how his own tongue licked them clean afterward. “Let’s choose a movie and get comfy, yeah?”

The next fifteen minutes slipped away as they struggled to decide on a movie. By the time they settled on one neither had seen, the croissants were gone and Oliver had finished his chocolate. They cuddled through the entire film, occasionally shifting positions, playing with each other’s hair, and kissing. They made comments about the movie and chatted about he film and other trivial things.

By the time the sun began to set on the horizon, the house was enveloped in the serenity their nearly routine evening. She was in the living room, tidying up the small mess they had made, folding blankets, and arranging the cushions on the sofa. Meanwhile, Oliver busied himself in the kitchen, plating the takeaway food that had arrived just minutes before.

If Noah had been there, he would have been nearing his time out in the studio. Then he would’ve joined oliver in the kitchen to set the table.

That was a familiar routine, which happened at least once a week, usually on Fridays, marking the start of a long weekend where work was left behind and their time was fully devoted to each other.

Whenever the three of them were engrossed in individual tasks, especially in the afternoon or evening, the house exuded a peaceful ambiance. Sometimes, Noah would light incense and play relaxing background music as they went about their activities. If they crossed paths in the hallway or in any other room, Noah would grab her waist and pull her in for a kiss. If he encountered Oliver, she would hear a sweet exchange of words and laughs between them from the other room.

It was lovely, what they had built. A precious home and a beautiful family.

After filling their stomachs and clearing up the kitchen, Oliver urged her upstairs for a well-deserved hot bath, but she declined, stating that she prefered the shower.

As mesmerizing as the idea of a hot bath sounded, the reality was that, despite their efforts to get a larger-than-average tub for the master bedroom’s bathroom, Oliver was too tall to fit comfortably if she was also inside. What to say about Noah? He just outright hated bathtubs and found it a waste of space. It wasn’t that he couldn’t fit in with either of them; he simply couldn’t fit comfortably on his own.

After some persuasion, she finally found herself naked under the hot shower, with Oliver’s bare body behind her, his hands massaging shampoo into her hair. The intimacy of the moment was heightened by the familiarity of the shampoo the three of them shared.

They took turns washing each other, making sure to apply a bit of pressure here and there to relieve sore muscles, especially Oliver’s, strained from days of performing on stage for over two hours and getting to bed late. The physical demands of his routine weren’t always ideal, but she appreciated how they had toned his body over the years, giving him strenght and stamina. She relished his manly physique, a mix of rough and soft areas that she found squishy. She just loved every part of him.

When he got down on one knee to soap up her thighs, she took the opportunity to wash his hair, enjoying the sweetness that spread through her veins and to her heart when he pressed a few kisses from her navel down to her lower belly.

After they were thoroughly washed, Oliver rinsed his hair under the water one last time, throwing his head back and closing his eyes, lips parted, neck exposed and muscles on display as he moved his hair back with both hands.

As attractive as the sight was —which, under other circumstances, would have just gotten her on her knees, and not exactly to wash his thighs—, the part of her that craved a deeper connection took control. She wanted a closeness that went beyond the physical act of giving each other pleasure.

She wrapped her arms around his torso and pressed her cheek to his chest, acutely aware of the ticking clock and the precious time slipping away from them.

Oliver didn’t say anything. He kept the water running and hugged her back, resting his chin atop her head. The mirror above the sink and the window overlooking the garden had fogged up, and the vapor was filling the room even though they had left the door open.

Minutes passed, the water turning cold, droplets hitting the tiles, her breaths soft and steady, following the rhythm of Oliver’s heartbeat. When she lazily ran her fingers down his back and wandered down to one of his buttocks, she felt him shiver slightly, and her curse nearly disrupted their peace.

“You’re cold,” she pointed out, peering up at him.

“It’s okay, love.”

But it wasn’t. Taking his hand, she turned off the water and pulled them out of the shower, handing Oliver his towel while she grabbed hers.

Oliver wasn’t done soothing her. He let her dry herself up and brush her hair. He left the bathroom for a couple of minutes to get some underwear, finding another one of Noah’s boxers in his drawer. Instead of pointing it out to her and reminding her that the boxers with the chibi drawings of Titan were Noah’s, he laughed and opted to keep them there. He would enjoy watching Noah huff and rummage through his own underwear looking for those specific boxers when he returned.

Returning to the bathroom only wearing black boxers, his wair still wet and dripping, he used the towel to dry it a bit before discarding it on the floor and refocusing his attention on his girl. She was occupied checking her eyebrows in the mirror, a habit he found amusing because he could never understand what she thought was wrong with them. Taking advantage of her distraction, he poured some hydrating lotion into his palm, rubbed his hands together, and kneeled to spread the cream on her thighs.

She let out a cry of surprise at the sudden cold sensation, but quickly adjusted to it and found herself enamored with the way he looked up at her as he massaged her body once more, tenderly applying lotion to her skin. The smell of lavender filled the room as he stood up to gently smooth it onto her shoulders, his hands moving in slow, soothing circles. She was truly getting spoiled as his touch traced the contours of her arms and back, each caress a silent promise of his love and devotion. She closed her eyes when she felt threathened by another wave of emotion and gratitude. She wouldn’t be hard on herself again and say that she didn’t deserve him, or Noah, but the truth was that they were too good to her, and her heart kept on swelling every time they shared a simple yet intimate moment as such.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said, her cheeks red—perhaps from shyness or perhaps because it was too hot in the bathroom.

“Shh. I love pampering you, and that’s why I’m here now. In two weeks I’ll be back to busy boyfri—fiancé, sorry, mode, with no time to shower with his loves because the artist’s life is a twenty-four hour job. So, rejoice,” he finished the sentence by touching her nose and leaving a stain of cream for her to spread.

She muttered an “ouch” and glared at him, nearly pouting at the truth of his words.

While that had been an isolated scenario and the timing of both bands’ tours had coincided leaving her alone for quite a long period of time, she couldn’t really complain about her job or about her life in the big picture. She was as happy as any girl could be with two men loving her unconditionally day and night, which made her aware that if somedays they were not attentive as she wished, it wasn’t because they chose to be distant. It was their demanding jobs, so different from her mundane one. Their careers sometimes took a toll on them, but it was a sacrifice they made for something they loved, and she admired them for it. They were passionate and dedicated, as they were with her, too. She would never ask them to prioritize her over their bands because they themselves knew when to put a stop to it and get their feet back on solid ground. It was sometimes a difficult balance to navigate, but with each other’s help, they knew how to make it work without letting it consume them anymore.

Her eyes followed Oliver as he walked barefoot to the other side of the bedroom, heading towards the drawer where he would find his worn-out clothes for sleeping. She watched with a tender expression as a smile appeared on his face when he spotted how neatly his t-shirts and sweats were stored in the drawer. As mundane and tedious as the task of folding clothes may seem, it was something both of them enjoyed doing together every once in a while—seated on the carpeted floor, picking up each item from the laundry basket and adding it to one of the three piles next to them: Oliver’s, Noah’s, and hers.

Folding clothes was sort of a meditation, and given that she had spent the last weekends alone, one of them had been dedicated to reorganizing the cupboards and drawers, including refolding all those clothes that had been thrown to the back of the cupboard.

She could have stared at Oliver for hours, but the clock would still keep ticking.

Licking her lips and rubbed the heel of her left foot on her right calf, her expression fell a little as she called out to him.

“Yeah?” He asked.

“Make love to me?”

Her voice came out as a whisper, a plea that he didn’t understand, for she didn’t have to ask for that. Ever. So he nearly laughed, but aware that maybe it wasn’t the best reaction, he dropped back into the drawer the clothes he had picked and walked to her, with determined strides, his green eyes focused on her as if nothing could make him look away.

“Did you even consider I wouldn’t intend to?”

Uncertainty clouded her eyes, but her hand released the corner of the towel she had secured atop her chest, letting the only fabric covering her body fall to the floor.

Oliver’s gaze fell to her breasts, and then down below, as if he hadn’t seen that same beautiful body, those edges and curves, merely five minutes ago.

She parted her lips to speak, to ask him to touch her, but Oliver was quicker. He picked her up in his arms, prompting her to wrap her legs around his waist. She stared down at him for a few seconds, struck by the light those green eyes contained, how much power to turn someone’s life into something beautiful with just one look.

Oliver carried her to bed. He laid her down on the mattress, her head propped up on the numerous pillows that Noah, ever the minimalist, didn’t understand. In a matter of seconds, Oliver discarded his boxers and crawled up to cover her body with his. Holding his weight on hands and knees, he bent his head down and kissed her, her hand sneaking up to the back of his head and tangling in his curls, still damp from the shower and with the lingering scent of the shampoo.

The kiss was hungry, desperate, wet. She kept pulling him down to her, as if she could do more than just kiss him; as if she could just drink him in, swallow him, keep him in her heart forever.

He already was.

His hand pushed at one of her knees, silently instructing her to open her legs for him. When she complied, he touched her folds, his fingers navigating her delights just for a couple of seconds before sinking two fingers inside of her, letting her wrap around his digits with welcoming warmth.

Her hips arched towards him.

“What do you want, love? Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you,” he murmured.

“Just you,” she sighed, knowing that he would always keep his promises.

Skipping foreplay, he removed his fingers from inside of her and sat back on his heels, asking her for a condom that she retrieved from one of the drawers on the other side of the bed. He put it on, then spat on his hand and covered her core with his saliva before leaning over her again, fusing his body with hers, one inch at a time.

He loved how her breath caught in her throat with every movement, every push in. Her eyes widened and her expression contorted into one of pleasure.

When he was finally settled in to the hilt, he sought her hand and intertwined his fingers with hers before placing their hands above her head, on the pillows.

He began to move. A delicate, sweet and hot cadence.

He understood that this time it was not just about pleasure; it was about the connection that having their bodies merged brought to each other. It was about finding peace and safety in the vulnerable state of offering yourself to the other, about the relief that it brought to her —and him— knowing they had found each other in this massive universe and that nothing else mattered at the time.

Just him, her, and the ghost of Noah, the lingering scent of him that still permeated his side of the bed, on the sheets that she had refused to change after they had left.

They kissed. Oliver swallowed her moans, relished in the way her nails dug onto his back, the way her thighs pressed him to her, the way she breathed him in and held him, wordlessly telling him she would never let him go.

Making love like that focused on the fire of their sexual energy, their passion, and desire, and let those align with their hearts and souls with every thrust and every cry in response. It brought them balance and harmony. It was something beyond the drive and rush experienced any other time, yet someething they needed all the same.

That night, she needed that, the slow pace, the eye-contact, and he didn’t mind. How could he? He was benefiting from it all the same.

Ever since Noah introduced them to this slower, more mindful practice, Oliver’s connection with both of them had deepened, and it had brought him closer to them (if that was even possible).

Lost in the passage of time, Oliver whimpered against her, his breaths ragged as he penetrated her over and over and as he looked down at her expression, her eyes closed because she was getting close, her mouth agape in pure bliss, little sweet and honeyed sounds coming out in waves, music to his ears.

A few thrusts grew harder and rougher unintentionally, and she moaned loudly, trying to supress a scream by biting onto his arms, right onto the inked angel of death that adorned his skin. One of his hands cupped her breast, squeezing and rolling her nipple between two fingers, giving her just the touch she needed. His face was buried in the crook of her neck, but his voice reached her ears as he told her he was about to come and needed to feel her climaxing around him, too.

The seconds that followed were intense, but not very loud. He spasmed inside of her at the same time that she arched to him, their hips meeting. They rode each other’s orgasms, and the mattress welcomed the dead weight of their exhausted and sated bodies a while after.

The bliss that came after that moment gave way to a heavy, contented silence filled with the heady and comforting fragance of sex.

Oliver’s body pressed down on her, just a tad sweaty, but she found her sanctuary in his embrace, only imperfect due to the missing weight pressing on her from the other side.

“Thank you,” she whispered after she removed some hair from her face and brushed her lips against Oliver’s stubbled chin. Her thighs trembled a little after she let them fall on the mattress, on either side of Oliver’s legs.

“Always,” he replied, tickling her cheek with his wild strands of hair and tracing a path of kisses down her jaw and neck until he could taste her nipple in his mouth. A moment later, he was back at her mouth, his large hand cupping her cheek, his words seeking reassurance of her well-being.

She sighed for what felt a long time. Her fingers, in the meantime, weaved into his damp hair, holding him close. The weight of his body on hers felt grounding, a reminder that he was there, real and solid. His presence and the feeling of him filler her, from the spot between her legs to her heart and soul, was a balm to her frayed nerves, soothing away the remnants of her ealier distress.

But still. Something was missing. Someone.

“I’m still upset,” she admitted after a breather from his kiss. She didn’t want to say it right after they made love, but she knew Oliver would understand. That’s what that entire day had been about: her understanding that he would listen, try to comprehend, and never ever diminish fer feelings and emotions.

“Why?” he asked. Their voices mere whispers in the night, in a room that also seemed to miss Noah’s presence. “Is it because I have to leave? Doll, Noah will be here in no time.”

“I know… I’m so happy that you’re here, that you came for me…” Her eyes had wandered down, slightly conflicted at her complaint. “But I want you both,” she confessed, loking back up at him. It wasn’t much of a confession because he already knew that. That had actually been the truth that had got them three together in the first place, the confession to Noah that had urged him to find Oliver and propose to him to share the girl of their dreams in the middle of a tour in the UK.

“I miss him, too,” Oliver reminded her, palming her hair, his cock still inside of her. He wouldn’t leave the warmth of her body until she asked him to. Missing Noah was one of the things he hated the most in their relationship. Sometimes they spent months without seeing each other. Oliver would come home and Noah would have left the day before, keeping them on opposite schedules. That was why last year, Oliver had tried to get Bad Omens to play in the same summer festivals as Bring Me The Horizon, so that at least they could be together after their performances and while traveling from one country to another, sparing the enormous pain of coming back home to realize the other wasn’t there yet.

It felt relieveing to share that feeling with her. It felt like missing him together took some of the weight off their shoulders. They would lean on each other and wait until Noah was back. Luckily for her —and for him— Noah was now on a flight on his way home, and unbeknownst to her, she would have both his boys home tomorrow, all devoted and willing to kiss the same ground she walked on.

“You know what I miss the most about him, actually?” Oliver started to say, his tone a bit more earning and cheerful as he rested his body weight on his elbows and as his fingers moved to reach her ears and start to play with her earrings.

“What?”

“That annoying habit of his of touching my legs with his bare feet under the blanket.”

Her laugh filled his heart with such relief that he couldn’t even put it into words. He had felt so anguished when Jack called him the day before. All he could think about was how she must have been coping alone after meeting her mother to tell her about the wedding. As Jack spoke to him on the phone, Oliver recalled that night after Jack and Sylvie’s engagement party. Noah and he had tried to make love to her to keep her racing thoughts away from the disastrous first meeting with the woman who would be their mother-in-law, but she had been totally restrained by her anxiety and so upset that they hadn’t been able to calm her down for two days.

He didn’t want her to feel like that again, and he knew her state would be even worse now since they weren’t there with her. That’s when he grabbed his phone, wallet, and passport, and headed to the airport.

“You know he does that on purpose, right?” she told him, remembering all the times she had been pissed at their antics on either side of the bed. She often found herself squished between their two bodies as Oliver kicked Noah to keep his naked feet away from his calves and Noah pretended to be half asleep while trying to touch him again. In the meantime, she was getting knocked from both sides, suffering Oliver’s kicks and the brush of Noah’s cold feet against her own. “He loves it when you squirm under the sheets.”

“Of course I know,” oliver admitted. “I’m going to make him pay for it one of these days.”

“I’d love to see that.”

Wriggling underneath him, Oliver understood she was getting uncomfortable.

He got up only to remove the condom and clean them up a bit, then tucked them both under the covers, letting her find her safety cocoon not on his chest or in the crook of his neck, but on his bicep, which she often mentioned could be used as a pillow. She found exceptional comfort in resting her head against the angel of death tattooed on his arm, his bicep big enough to offer the perfect-sized spot for her to drift into the realm of dreams.

The only thing missing was Noah’s arm around her stomach as she lay on her side, keeping her protected from all the evil in the world as he reached over to grab onto Oliver as well, his palm finding his place on Oliver’s hip.

They would keep their bodies connected and fall into a peaceful sleep, as if enchanted by a magic they couldn’t see but that was always there, always present in their love for each other.

CHAPTER 3: THE CROW WITCH - COMING SOON