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alisonfelixwrites · 3 days

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the deal - part 3/3 (*) [harry styles au]

part one, part two

summary: in which harry and claire continue to fight for custody of atlas while also attempting to take steps in their own relationship

word count: 12,756

content warning: custody battle! heavy topics of child neglect, physical/emotional abuse, mentions of drug use, etc. smut!!

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“Claire?” Harry softly asked, waiting outside the door she locked herself into.

His eyes softly closed, forehead resting against the wood as he heard retching and vomiting from the other side. Harry wore a dress shirt and slacks, dressing up for court even if he wasn’t being heard or if the judge would hardly look at him.

But he wanted to be here for Claire, even if she insisted she was fine coming on her own.

Seeing her rush into the restrooms before the hearing even started, was enough proof to Harry that she was most definitely not fine.

“Babe?” He checked again, breathing out the word in defeat as there was silence from the other end. He heard her slightly coughing and then he heard the flushing of the toilet before Claire unlocked the door, wiping her eyes and straightening out her blouse.

Her eyes were rimmed red and the bags underneath them seemed to have darkened a shade. She fixed the clip in her hair while sniffling, “Sorry.” She muttered, walking past Harry and towards the sinks to wash her hands and rinse her mouth a bit.

Harry looked at her through the mirror as he slipped a gentle hand to her lower back, “‘S okay. You don’t have to apologize.”

Even Atlas and Finn had noticed this morning, that something was up. Tensions in the house were at an all time high any time Claire was supposed to head to court and face Evan. It wasn’t the first time, but him and his lawyer always found ways to postpone or buy themselves time.

And in the meantime, Claire and Evan had to stick to what the court told them - which was that Atlas spent at least six hours at his father’s house every other Saturday. Claire always dreaded dropping him off but insisted walking him up to the door. Evan never looked good. He always had a sick, smug smile on his lips. He wasn’t doing this for Atlas, he was just doing it to get a rise out of her.

She remembered crying in Harry’s car the last time because once Claire had hugged Atlas goodbye and he went inside, Evan said to her that he’d do everything he could to stay in control of her life before slamming the door.

After a good cry, it was time to convince Harry to not go knocking on his door and then punch his teeth out. But Harry’s hands had tightly gripped the steering wheel as they drove home in silence, and both him and Claire weren’t themselves in those six hours.

Evenings were then spent with Atlas cuddling up to both of them, even Finn. He regressed to being a little baby on those days, sucking his thumb and needing a soft scalp massage before he requested for Harry to carry him to bed and then Harry and Claire both tucked him in.

He usually had nightmares those nights, but not as bad as the nights before he was supposed to be at Evan’s. Atlas never said much about the time spent at his father’s house, and Claire and Harry didn’t pry.

And so months went on, and here she was again. With fresh hope that the judge would make a conscious decision to cut ties between Atlas and his father. That they could finally see the effect it had on Atlas and that Evan didn’t give a single fuck about his son.

“I love you.” Harry murmured from behind her, finally pulling Claire into his chest and she allowed him. Claire exhaled into his neck, pinching her eyes shut to keep more tears from falling out. Harry’s arms felt like a warm blanket surrounding her, and she was catapulted into memories of comfort and warmth as she leaned against him. And she let herself lean against him - which was almost the biggest challenge of all.

“I love y-you too.” She croaked out, sniffling. Harry kissed her temple, “And I’m so proud of you. Atlas will remember this forever, the way you fought for him. I promise.”

Claire quickly nodded, “Yeah.” She agreed, trying to remember what she was doing this for. Or who she was doing this for. Future Atlas. To give him peace. To know she did everything in her power to make him happy and give him a brighter future.

“We have to go in now,” Harry’s heart sank a bit as he pulled Claire back a bit and cupped her cheeks, “sorry.” He murmured. Claire swallowed and nodded, “Okay. Do you have gum?”

“Yeah.” He patted his pockets and pulled out a packet of gum, “Here. Your breath doesn’t smell, by the way.” He reassured her in a small joke. Claire huffed out a humourless chuckle and popped the gum in her mouth. Lacing their fingers together, Harry and Claire exited the ladies rooms to head to where they were supposed to be.

“There you are.” Timothy - their lawyer - exhaled a breath of relief. He was the new lawyer Claire had been working with ever since she started dating Harry. She only admitted it to herself with pink cheeks, but Timothy was the kind of lawyer she was unable to afford with her own money.

Harry didn’t mind spending his own money on help for Claire or Atlas. They were his family, and no length was too far for him to go to, to ensure their safety and happiness. Besides, he had more money than he could spend after working full-time after Astrid’s departure and hardly having a social life.

Claire’s stubbornness made her reluctant to always accept Harry’s financial help, but it was for the greater good.

“Sorry.” Claire cleared her throat, “I wasn’t feeling too well.”

“Nervous?” Timothy checked and Claire nodded, holding onto Harry’s hand who gave her a gentle squeeze, “Mhm.”

Timothy rested a hand on her shoulder, “We’re doing good, Claire. We have accusations for a lot of things, and Evan is unable to give a decent response to all of them.” He tried to soothe her.

Claire just swallowed thickly and nodded, “Yeah.” She sighed.

The next twenty minutes were pure hell for Claire once more. She went into the courtroom, feeling Harry’s presence behind her as the judge stared at both her and Evan, and their lawyers.

Claire felt fidgety the entire time, but trusted Timothy, who did a splendid job. Of course, Evan and his lawyer played it just as dirty and kept bringing up Claire’s past in drug use and how she was really only back on track ever since being with Harry. How she had to split her attention between Atlas and Finn and how that caused her to not be fully there for their son.

Claire saw red at that and jumped up her feet, briskly turning towards Evan and firing at him, asking him if he even knew Atlas’ birthday.

The judges’ brows had raised high when Evan shamefully spoke out the wrong date.

But, in true Evan-fashion, he did buy himself more time to get his life on track.

A social inquiry.

His lawyer suggested it and the judge blindly agreed. Tears prickled in Claire’s eyes when she realized what it meant. More months of this. More court dates, more conversations, a social worker coming to their house to talk to her, Harry and Atlas.

Just to verify what everyone actually already knew.

Claire felt defeated when Harry drove them home, his hand on her thigh and the music turned down.

“It’s gonna be okay.” He murmured once the engine was turned off and they were in the driveway of the house. Claire turned her head to face him, offering him a faint smile as she nodded, “I know. Thank you.”

Harry felt a bit stupid, unsure of what the right thing to say was. There weren’t really any good things to say to a mother in this position. And Claire was such a damn good mother, she didn’t deserve any of this.

Harry chewed the inside of his cheek, “I love you.” He repeated.

Claire nodded again as her bottom lip wobbled, “I love you too, Harry.”

They stayed in silence in the car for a bit until heading inside. The boys were at school and they had a few hours to themselves. Claire did her usual routine after going to court, changing into gym clothes to go on a long run. Harry on the other hand, threw himself into work.

He sat at his desk, drawing and erasing and drawing and erasing as he got a job to design a new office building for a bank.

He was hunched over, a concentrated frown on his face when Claire walked back in, sweat pearling at her hairline and her eyes still hollow and tired. She panted out after her run, heading into the kitchen for water and to do some stretching.

Harry leaned against the doorpost, watching her as she chugged down water and used the back of her hand to wipe her forehead. She felt his presence behind her and turned around, leaning against the countertop, “Hey.”

“Hey.” Harry exhaled, “Do you - uh… do you want to shower together? Before the boys get home?”

Claire’s stomach dropped a bit. She knew the tone of his voice and she knew what he meant. Harry meant to say they weren’t themselves right now and needed some comfort and closeness within each other to be there for the boys when they came home in a bit. And he was right.

Claire nodded, “That sounds good. Are you finishing up or can we go now?”

“Now is good.” Harry smiled. Him and Claire headed up to their bathroom, stripping themselves of their clothes before hopping into the cabin. Harry took the time in soothing Claire. He washed her hair and soaped her in, hugging her close to his chest and she allowed him to wrap her up and comfort her.

She pushed up her toes to kiss him deeply, expressing her gratitude for his endless patience without using words. Because she didn’t know how. She didn’t know what to say to explain how he made her feel, or what he did for her.

“Claire - wait.” Harry breathed when her hand closed around his semi hard length, gently pumping up and down. She moaned against his lips, “No, let me… i want to.” She reassured him. Harry’s cheeks flushed slightly and he leaned back against the tiled wall, swallowing, “I’m not trying to be a dick.” He defended his erection and Claire nodded in understanding. Harry swallowed again, “‘S just because I’m close to you.”

“I know. It’s okay.” She smiled slightly. Harry didn’t want to ruin the moment. He couldn’t help getting hard when he saw Claire naked with wet drops running down her smooth skin. He knew this wasn’t really the time or place and he hadn’t expected her to act upon it, but she did and she wanted to.

Harry usually got hard whenever they showered together. It didn’t mean at all that it always turned to this. His head thudded back with a small whimper when Claire sunk down to her knees, water cascading down her back as she took him in her mouth. Harry’s hands balled into fists as he panted out, “Shit - babe…” His hand involuntary found the back of her neck, giving a thankful squeeze when she sucked him off.

Claire took him deep, her tongue salaciously running over his shaft and feeling the veins pulsing against her hollowed-out cheeks. She hummed around him, revelling in the feeling of his heavy cock pushing in her throat as she fought her gag-reflex to deepthroat him. Harry whined out, taking a fistful of her hair as he arched slightly and pushed his hips forward to thrust into her mouth.

“Fuck,” He gasped, “fuck - fuck. C’mere - stop, c’mere.” He yanked her hair, making Claire yelp slightly as she popped off of him suddenly. She coughed slightly as Harry helped her up, supporting Claire who felt woozy on her legs.

“Can I?” Harry spoke against her lips, pushing her against the opposite wall while grabbing her thighs to lift her up. Claire hardly had time to nod as her legs locked around his hips and Harry slipped inside of her. He grunted, forehead dropping to her shoulder as he pressed his lips into her collarbone and Claire moaned at the feeling of him inside of her.

Her hand tightly grabbed his wet hair as Harry fucked into her. Slow yet sharp and deep. She loved it when he took her like this - affectionate and loving yet mindblowingly good. They were engulfed by steam, and Claire admired the bulging of Harry’s biceps as he seemingly effortlessly kept her lifted up.

“So good.” Claire squeaked when his tip brushed her g-spot and the coil in her tummy tightened. She brushed his hair away and they breathily kissed as Harry sped up a bit, “Please - cum…” He groaned, “I need you to cum.”

Claire nodded as she bucked her hips back, “Uh-h-huh, almost there.” She panted. Only a minute later, both were panting and spent. Harry’s softening cock pulsed between her walls as he kept her up for a bit until gently letting her down. He slipped out of her and Claire held his arms for a bit of balance before she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and deeply kissed him.

“Love of my life.” She smiled against his lips and Harry chuckled, immediately feeling how much lighter the mood had become. Sex was important to them to feel close to one another. They had to pick their moments, which is why something practical - like showering or cooking - could turn into fucking in no time.

The found ways, knowing how detrimental it was to their relationship to feel the physical comfort of the other. Claire hummed as they kissed and Harry nuzzled his nose with hers while running his hands up and down her naked back, “Are you ovulating?” He whispered.

Claire bit her lip and shook her head, “No - uh… this was just for fun.”

“Right.” Harry chuckled, giving her ass a small pinch, “well, it was definitely fun.”

Four months now they had been trying. Actively. Not like before, not leaving it up to the universe, but really tracking her period and trying. Every month she took a pregnancy test and so far - every month it came back negative.

It was fine, for now. Their spirits weren’t broken down. So much was happening with Atlas and Evan too, that Claire didn’t necessarily mind. She somehow felt like she wouldn’t be able to feel joyous about a pregnancy with everything looming over her head.

And Claire didn’t know this, but it was also the reason Harry hadn’t proposed yet.

When he asked her to marry him, he wanted it to be just them. Him, Claire, Finn and Atlas. No Evan.

He soothed himself with the idea that they had time. They had so much fucking time to spend with one another. A lifetime. And perhaps it was nicer if the boys were a bit older, so they could really be a part of the wedding and give their blessing.

“My sweet,” Harry murmured with a smile on his lips, “I adore you.”

Claire giggled and the sound made Harry’s heart skip ten beats. She kissed his lips once more, “I adore you more. Just not your cum running down my leg. Scoot over a bit, I need the stream.” And playful Claire was back. Harry threw his head back in a laugh when she was back to her witty, sarcastic self.

He loved her like that. She was most herself like that. They waddled back a few steps until the water took care of Harry’s orgasm and then exited the shower.

“Wanna pick up the boys together?” Harry suggested. Claire puckered her lips, “You can go, I’ll get started on dinner. That way I won’t have to be in the kitchen too much tonight.”

Harry fought the amused smile on his lips and exhaled a chuckling breath, “Let’s do it the other way around. You pick them up, I’ll cook.”

“Hey, my cooking is not that bad.”

“No, but mine is better.” Harry stuck out his tongue and Claire playfully swatted his chest, “Ass. I’ll see you in a bit.” She pushed up her toes for a quick kiss. Her hair was wet and laying down her back as she wore jeans and a hoodie. Snatching Harry’s keys off of the table, she unlocked the Tesla to pick up Finn and Atlas.

In the presence of both boys, Claire quickly forgot all about what today had been so far. Atlas and Finn were laughing and joking in the backseat, cracking Claire up at what they all said. They brought out the best in each other and it was incredible to see.

Much like Harry and Claire’s dynamic, Finn tamed Atlas a bit while Atlas brought out Finn’s - hidden - wild side. Finn was the calm and Atlas was the storm. Much like Harry being the calm and Claire being the storm.

“Claire bear, can you help me with my shoes?” Finn lisped a little and Claire fought the rolling of her eyes. She could hear Harry laughing from the kitchen and Claire crouched down to undo his laces, “Finnigan, I love it when you call me Claire bear except that I don’t.” She chuckled. Finn frowned in confusion and Claire’s heart melted at his expression, so she just quickly kissed his forehead, “Never mind. I love you.”

“I love you too, mama.”

Claire melted more. Finn was experimenting with different nicknames for her. Both Harry and Claire had made it clear to him that he was in no way obligated to call her mum. But Finn wanted to. Besides that, Harry also taught him the horrendous Claire bear nickname and she always silently gagged upon hearing it.

Harry thought it was absolutely hilarious.

“That’s my reward for blowing you in the shower?” She hushed the whisper while being with Harry in the kitchen, the boys in the living room. Harry stirred the food and bit his lip to fight his beaming grin. Cocking up an eyebrow, he dipped his head for a chaste kiss, “Your reward was an orgasm, you little brat.”

Claire childishly stuck out her tongue and went through the boys’ backpacks of the day and clearing out their lunchboxes.

Yet Claire dreaded the evening. She wanted to be transparent with Atlas about today and about his father, so while Harry tucked Finn in later that night, she sat on Atlas’ bed.

He was cuddled into his side as they read a book together and eventually Claire closed it, “Can I talk to you?” She ran her fingers through his shaggy blonde hair - which was darkening just a little bit as he aged.

Atlas looked up to her and nodded, “Yes.” Somehow by the tone of her voice and the way she asked him, he sensed what the topic would be.

Claire shifted a bit, nibbling her lip, “I saw your daddy today.”

Atlas’ expression dropped a bit and Claire continued, “You know I see him sometimes, right? In that big building? With the judge?”

“Who’s the judge again?”

“The judge is a very important person who makes very important decisions. Sometimes your daddy and I have to go see the judge. The judge asks us how you are and if you’re happy with mum and happy with dad.” Claire tried to explain.

Atlas nodded slowly, “And what do you say?”

“I tell her you’re happy here.” She shrugged before continuing to play with his hair, “Are you? Happy?”

“Yes.” Atlas smiled, cuddling further into Claire - who already got tears in her eyes. She swallowed thickly, “With me and Finn and daddy Harry?”

“Yes!” Atlas spoke with more enthusiasm and Claire sniffled once before cupping his cheek, “That’s all I want, bubby. You know I’d do everything to make you happy, right? I love you so much. More than anything or anyone.”

Atlas studied her face for a bit, “More than daddy Harry?”

“More than daddy Harry.” Claire nodded without missing a beat. Atlas didn’t seem particularly relieved or alarmed at her answer, but just nodded. Claire took a breath, “And then the judge asks the same question to your daddy. She asks daddy if you’re happy there.”

“And what does he say?” Atlas murmured. Claire kept the wobbling of her lip under control, “Daddy says you’re happy there.”

Atlas frowned, “I’m not.”

“I know.” She whispered. Atlas pressed his lips together, “How long do I still have to go?”

“As long as the judge tells us.” Claire explained and Atlas tilted his head to the side, “But how? I don’t know this juds.”

“Judge.” Claire softly corrected him and Atlas exhaled a breath, “Judge.” He tried to repeat, but it was a difficult word for him to pronounce. Claire’s heart shattered when she was once more reminded of Atlas’ young age. He was supposed to be young and free and careless. But he wasn’t. Instead, he knew his mum and dad were fighting and there were two groups of people who claimed to want the best for him. He knew of the judge. He was too young for this. He had seen too much, heard too much.

Atlas looked at her through big eyes, “How long do I still have to go, mummy?” He repeated in a watery voice, “Why can’t I just stay here with you and daddy Harry and Finn?” He clung to her and Claire hastily wiped her tears, “I know, bub. I know. I love you so much.” She repeated.

“I love you.” Atlas murmured, “I don’t want to go anymore. I don’t like it.”

“I know.” Claire’s voice cracked and she blinked rapidly to keep from crying too much. Pulling Atlas into her chest, her face scrunched up as she silently cried, out of sight for him. “You understand that I’m trying?” She whispered, “Me and daddy Harry are trying so hard for you, to keep you here and safe and happy. With us.”

“I understand.” Atlas nodded.

“Good boy.” Claire kissed the top of his head. She sniffled a few times before taking a breath, “So today daddy and I had to go back to see the judge. And the judge said she’s going to send someone here.”

Atlas didn’t respond, and Claire could imagine him frowning in confusion. She closed her eyes, “Someone is going to come here. A nice person, who just wants to talk to you a little bit. I won’t be there for that.” She gently explained, “They’ll want to sit with you and they’ll ask you a few questions. And you can tell them whatever you want, okay? There’s no need to be scared or to be nervous. They just want to know how you’re doing.”

It was silent for a moment before Atlas spoke, “When?”

“I don’t know yet.” Claire admitted, “It might be a while. Do you have any questions?”

Atlas flicked his eyes up, and Claire saw a range of emotions in them. “Can I sleep in the big bed tonight?”

Claire raised her brows and clearly hesitated, “Y-You want to sleep in the big bed?” She clarified. Atlas quickly nodded, “Mhm. For when I have a nightmare.”

“Bub.” She whispered, rocking him back and forth a little, “But you’re a big boy, aren’t you? Big boys sleep in their own beds.” She tried but Atlas whined a bit and crawled closer into her. Claire felt a fresh wave of tears running down her cheeks and she cleared her throat, “Can you wait just a minute? I’m going to have a chat with daddy Harry first.” She whispered.

Atlas just nodded and cuddled his stuffed animal as Claire quickly turned around and rushed out of the room. She was barely in the hallway when she pressed her hand to her mouth, stifling the deep sob and the feeling of nausea. She could throw up all over again when imagined the fear running through her little boy.

Claire’s legs could hardly keep her up and she slid down the wall next to Atlas’ closed door. Just thinking of him in his bed, clutching his stuffed animal that Harry gave him because he craved comfort so much.

“Hey,” Harry whispered, worry apparent on his face when he hurried over to where Claire was. He just tucked Finn and closed his door after reading him a bedtime story. Harry’s hands cupped Claire’s cheeks, “Babe - what’s wrong?” He urgently whispered, attempting not to alert their boys.

“A-Atlas.” Claire sobbed, feeling the burning in her chest, “I don’t want him to see me like this.”

“Oh - shh.” Harry crooned, “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay.” He slipped an arm around Claire’s waist and used his might to pull her up to a standing position. She clung to him and Harry smoothed his hand over her hair, “‘S okay, baby.” He shushed softly.

Claire sniffled, “He asked to sleep in our bed.”

“Shit.” Harry murmured and Claire nodded, “Mhm. It’s so bad, Harry.”

He stroked her hair again, “What did you say?”

“Nothing.” Claire whimpered, “Not yet. W-Wanted to talk to you first.”

Harry exhaled, “Babe, if he’s begging to sleep with us… we should let him, right?”

“Mhm. I think so too. But I didn’t want to decide without you.”

Harry nodded, “It’s okay. I’ll go carry him to our bed.”

“Okay.” Claire nodded, wiping her eyes, “I’m gonna just freshen up a bit, don’t want Atlas to see me like this.”

Harry cupped her cheeks and kissed her nose, “Alright. You go ahead, I’ll be right there with him.”

Claire nodded and they parted ways as Harry slowly opened up Atlas’ bedroom door. He sat in his bed like a small boy, clutching his stuffed giraffe that Harry gifted him. The sight was heartbreaking. Harry was slow as he walked up to him, “Hey, bubby. Mum says you’d like to sleep in our bed tonight?”

“Yeah.” Atlas nodded and Harry offered him a small smile, “Okay. Want me to carry you?”

Atlas just lifted up an arm, a silent invitation for Harry to break his back and pick up the seven year-old. Atlas was way too big to be picked up like this, but Harry humored him. He patted his back as he turned down the lights in Atlas’ room and carried him through the hall. He made a quick stop at Finn’s door - not wanting him to feel left out.

Finn wasn’t asleep yet and blinked his eyes open as Harry stood in the doorway, “Hi, bud. Sleepover tonight?” He questioned. Finn frowned, “But it’s not a Friday or Saturday.”

“I know.” Harry nodded, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. But Atlas is sleeping in the big bed tonight.”

Atlas and Finn shared a look, and Finn nodded, grabbing his own baby blanket before he followed behind Harry and Atlas. Harry was gentle when he laid Atlas down - mostly on Claire’s side. He immediately sunk into the pillow she usually rested on and Finn was exceptionally gentle too.

“They’re both in bed.” Harry murmured as he joined Claire in the bathroom. She was blowing her nose and doing some skincare, nodding, “Finn too?”

“Mhm.” Harry grabbed his toothbrush while looking at Claire in the mirror. She was lost in thought and he decided to leave it at that for tonight.

The family of four all fell asleep in the same bed, with Harry and Claire each cuddling up to their sons to provide them the comfort they apparently craved.

***

Once May rolled in, Claire eventually got the letter. Her heart slammed in her throat when she recognized the letters from court, and she exhaled a slight sigh of relief when it turned out to just be her invitation to go talk to the social worker in regards to the social inquiry.

Claire called immediately to lock in an appointment. The social worker turned out to be a woman named Nancy. She sounded friendly and warm on the phone, immediately soothing Claire’s worries a little bit. Nancy informed her that in that first talk, it was supposed to be just Claire. She felt a bit deflated that she wasn’t allowed to bring Harry - but also understood.

This social inquiry was mostly between her and Evan, surrounding Atlas. They were his biological parents. Harry was a big part of his life, and Nancy assured Claire that she’d eventually also include Harry and talk to him, as she would with Otis and perhaps Finn if he wanted to.

Claire felt relieved that she could go in a few days later, and she gave herself a peptalk in the mirror before driving down to the courthouse to meet with Nancy.

Claire had to admit she was between jobs and had a very free schedule. Ever since being with Harry, she gave up her Burger King-job and did nothing for a while but adapt to their new reality. With the absence of rent and the help of Harry, there were no financial worries for the first time in her life.

Yet Claire grew bored and was on the lookout for something. Maybe something administrative, she wasn’t sure yet. She helped Harry sometimes with his accounting and answered his emails or his calls from time to time. Sometimes she wondered how she did it all those years, being a single parent to Atlas and doing a fulltime job and the household.

Sometimes her days were simply filled doing laundry, going grocery shopping and cleaning the house. Until Evan called her a gold digger and it stung. And she hoped it wouldn’t be used against her in court.

“Ms. Carter?” A woman smiled at her as Claire sat waiting in one of the chairs. She quickly got up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before offering her hand, “Yes, I’m Claire.” She breathed.

“Nancy.” The woman nodded, “Nice to meet you. Not too much traffic coming here?” They walked the long hallways together and Claire shook her head, “No, it was okay.”

Nancy smiled, “It’s just through here. You can sit wherever you’d like.”

Claire glanced around the room, which was clearly decorated for conversations with children. It had a small, low table in the corner with kid’s chairs, a ton of toys and stuffed animals and lots of children’s books.

“This is our kid’s space.” Nancy explained, “When we talk to kids, it’s in this room. I booked it for our conversation too because it was the only available room.”

Claire slowly nodded, “I see.” Her lips then curled up into a small smile, “Atlas has this book too.” She pointed to one.

“Really?” Nancy smiled, “It’s usually a big hit.”

“Mhm. He really likes it.” She then shrugged off her coat and took a seat in one of the chairs, fiddling with her fingers.

“Are you nervous?” Nancy checked, a friendly smile on her face. Claire exhaled, “Honestly, yes. A little bit. It’s all quite new and I’m not sure what to expect.”

“That’s understandable.” Nancy nodded, “So I’m a social worker, and I work for the family justice court.” She began, “Sometimes the judge asks us to do a social inquiry in certain cases, when it’s too difficult to make a decision and the judge isn’t sure what’s left or right anymore. That’s where we come in. We take a few steps with both mum and dad, and I’d also like to see Atlas once or twice. We contact the school and such to get a broad view on who Atlas is as a child, mostly in relation to his parents, so that’s you and Evan. And the custody arrangement.”

Claire’s chest clenched a bit and she swallowed before nodding, “So… you decide what happens to Atlas then?”

“I don’t.” Nancy shook her head, “I take these steps and I basically make the puzzle surrounding Atlas. I talk to him and also pull information from literature and investigation, knowing what works best for children his age and what their needs are. Then I write a report to the judge, but the final decision is always with the judge.”

“Right.” Claire slowly nodded.

Nancy shot her a smile, “I’d also like to do a house visit, just to see what Atlas’ environment is. I do these same steps with dad.” She explained.

“Okay.” Claire breathed and Nancy nodded, “So basically what I’ll do with you - and the father - is that we… talk. Mostly about Atlas and how we can get out of the current rut and move forward towards something that best fits him.”

“That’s all I want.” Claire swallowed, nodding, “It’s been so…” She exhaled, “it’s been such a nightmare.” She already felt the lump in her throat and swallowed thickly, “Sorry, I really don’t mean to cry after only a minute.”

“That’s okay.” Nancy encouraged her, “I understand that this is an emotional time. You try to do what’s best for your little boy, I’m sure.”

Claire nodded fiercely, “I-I do. I definitely do.”

“Are you okay with us starting from the beginning? How did you and Evan meet, how long were you together and such?”

And so Claire took a breath and told her story. Not too many details, because Nancy also didn’t ask for those. Just in broad lines how she and Evan met, how they got together, how their relationship went - including all the ups and downs. How Claire got pregnant and told him, and how horrifying that pregnancy was without his support and with her dependance on drugs.

How she eventually got away and how the terrors began. How he hit her, stalked her, threatened her and made her life a living hell for the past seven years.

Claire lit up once Nancy asked her about Atlas. Claire used hand-gestures to describe what kind of child Atlas is and how he’s wild and adventurous, but also so snuggly. She explained how she felt him regress whenever he was around Evan, and how he had nightmares and asked to sleep in her bed.

Nancy nodded along and took notes of everything Claire explained. The conversation turned towards Harry and Finn and their blended family. Claire smiled when she spoke of the bond Harry and Atlas had, and how Nancy would certainly see that if she came to visit them at the house.

“Have you ever considered taking Atlas to therapy?” Nancy questioned curiously. Claire nibbled her lip and slowly shook her head, “I actually haven’t. I mean… I’m not sure if he’d benefit from it. Isn’t he too young?”

“From what you explained, he sounds like a bright young man.” Nancy smiled, “And it’d be a child therapist, of course. Someone who’s trained to work with children, and maybe even specifically surrounding the topic of divorce and living in two seperate houses. Is he a creative kid?”

“Like drawing and stuff?” Claire questioned, “Not really. He is a good talker though. He’s… inquisitive, I’d say. He asks me a lot and often wants Harry to explain things very in depth.”

Nancy nodded, “Did you tell him what you were doing today?”

“No.” Claire shook her head. When I came back from court last time, I explained to him what was going to happen. He asked a few questions and he knows you will come to the house to talk to him. He’s not too nervous, he says. But… well - that night, he asked to sleep in our bed.”

Nancy’s eyes turned sympathetic and Claire lowered her gaze. Silence fell over the room a little bit and Claire eventually took a breath, “I just don’t understand why he keeps getting chances.” She murmured, “He’s disappointed Atlas so many times. He’s never been there for him, or for us. I did it all by myself. I take full responsibility for the way Atlas is today, because Evan didn’t raise him. I-I just don’t get how many mistakes he has to make, or how bad it has to be for something to finally be done.” She ended while shrugging her shoulders.

“I’ve been in hospital a handful of times because of him, in the year and a half alone. Atlas saw it all. That’s… that’s not okay for a seven year old.”

“It’s not.” Nancy agreed.

After nearly two hours, they wrapped it up. Nancy would be in touch after she also managed to speak to Evan to hear his side of the story. Claire had pressed her lips together to keep herself from talking, because she was about to warn Nancy that all he’d say are lies. But of course, Nancy was supposed to be neutral and she couldn’t pick sides - so Claire just kept her mouth shut.

Going home, she sat thinking in the car. Thinking of Atlas, and thinking of the life choices she made. Losing her family and her parent’s support because she was with Evan. She hated him, and she regretted him every single day of her life.

But then she looked at Atlas, and she wouldn’t change it for the world. She’d take the pain times ten if it meant making him happy and carefree. Claire was always overcome with such a pure love, one that she felt like she could hardly explain. She was glad that Harry understood, because he felt the same towards Finn.

And sometimes, Claire took a little step back to realize how fucking lucky she was.

And she didn’t realize it yet, but life was about to get a little luckier.

***

Harry whistled once he locked the car.

His sunglasses sat low on the bridge of his nose and he just couldn’t wait to get inside and change into something more comfortable. Even if it was May, it was insanely warm. He wore slacks for this business meeting with the headhunters of his latest project, but his slacks were as uncomfortable as they could be.

“Babe?” He called out once he opened up the front door. Harry was met with silence but glanced down, seeing the shoes strewn by the front door with the absence of Claire’s favourite slippers.

She only wore them at home, and it was a sign to him that she was home.

He kept whistling the same tune softly, kicking off his own dress shoes before putting his briefcase down on the dining table. Peaking into the kitchen, his face lit up when he saw Claire at the stove.

Her head flicked to the side, a bright smile immediately appearing on her face, “Hey!” She excitedly smiled, and Harry was drawn to her like a magnet. His hands found her hips as he kissed her, humming. The scent of Claire’s famous pancakes entered his nose and he melted into a puddle of comfort.

He was home.

“How was your meeting?” Claire questioned, hair up in a lazy ponytail and wearing one of Harry’s aprons that said chef Styles at the front, embroidered in elegant gold. Harry dipped his finger in the pancake batter, humming, “Quite good. They like my ideas so far. They did want me to rethink the columns though.”

“No, really?! We sat hours thinking about those god damn columns.” Claire complained and Harry chuckled, licking off his finger, “I know. But hey, they pay my bills so… I’ll fuckin’ rethink their columns.”

Claire chuckled at Harry’s cursing - something he really only did when he was done with someone’s shit or when the kids weren’t home.

Her heart hammered in her chest when she kept her back to him, clearing her throat, “Hey - uh… can you get me a spoon?”

“Spoon.” Harry nodded, pushing himself off the counter, “Sure.”

He whistled again, yet it abruptly stopped when he opened up the cutlery drawer.

He saw no spoons, forks or knives. The drawer had been cleared out and instead Harry saw a little dark green romper in the drawer. And a pregnancy test next to it.

“Wh-” He cut himself off with a sharp gasp, tears blurring his eyes when he felt like his heart stopped. His legs wobbled when he felt the sharp rush to his head. He briskly turned around, and Claire’s smile grew when she saw the shock written all over his face.

She sheepishly leaned against the counter behind her, the stove turned off in a break from making pancakes.

“Surprise.” She whispered with a smile.

Harry panted out, as if he had just ran a marathon, “Y-You’re pregnant?” His voice cracked.

“Yes.” Claire giggled and Harry threw his head back, pumping his fists, “You’re pregnant!” He shouted.

“Harry!” Claire giggled as he ran up to her and scooped her up. Claire’s ponytail flew around as he spun her, hands underneath her thighs and smiling into her neck. Harry then sat her down on the countertop, breathing heavily as his eyes watered and his cheeks hurt from smiling, “Please, tell me I’m not dreaming.”

Claire lovingly cupped his cheeks, “You’re not dreaming, my love.” She smiled, “We’re having a baby.”

“Shit.” Harry’s voice broke as he buried his face into her neck, hugging her tightly to his chest. Claire soothed him, understanding the range of emotions running through Harry. They had been wanting this for quite some time.

She played with the hair in the nape of his neck as Harry tried to come to terms with the new information.

He pulled back with watery eyes and Claire giggled, “You’re crying.” She teased and he huffed out a chuckle, “Shut up.” He grabbed the back of her neck to bring her in for a deep kiss. They smiled into one another as Harry touched Claire in every way he could.

“I’m so happy.” He whispered, “You make me so happy. You make me so happy.” He repeated the words, kissing around Claire’s face until she shook with giggles and Harry could hardly breathe anymore.

“How long?” He breathed. Claire nibbled her lip, “Just a few weeks. I’m not sure. I took a few tests today, they all came back positive. I-I couldn’t wait to tell you.” She spoke. She realized they still weren’t a billion percent sure. They hadn’t been to the doctor’s and Claire hadn’t gotten any blood work done. But the six tests she peed on all told her the same answer.

A very clear line that indicated she was pregnant. No more than a couple of weeks.

“I love you.” Harry murmured, “So much. You’re giving me my dream.” He cried more and Claire giggled, making slight fun of him as Harry hid in her neck and held her tightly. Claire couldn’t wipe the bright smile off of her face.

She had been throwing up a few times lately. Claire thought it was stress - but much like every month she decided to take a pregnancy test today. She didn’t even expect it to come out positive. But then there it was.

And now they were here. On cloud nine.

“D-Do we tell the boys?” Harry sniffled, wiping underneath his eyes once he unhooked himself from Claire. She couldn’t even respond before he deeply kissed her. Claire leaned back into the wall as Harry slipped his tongue inside of her mouth, shoving every single emotion he felt into the kiss to leave her dizzy and breathless.

“H-” She tried but he groaned, kissing her again, “I want you.” He panted.

Claire raised her brows, “Wh- now?” She asked in shock. Harry nodded eagerly, “Mhm. We’ve got time right?” He already dragged her to the edge of the countertop to pick her up underneath her thighs again.

“Uh - yeah, like an hour - Harry, wait.” Claire giggled when he carried her up the stairs, the apron still on her body. Claire smiled while Harry kicked open the door of their bedroom and then used his foot to close it again.

Even though he couldn’t wait to make her his and celebrate this moment by being so close to her, he was gentle when laying her down. Claire bit her lip to fight her smile as he seemingly tried to take it slow and easy, but the second he was on top of her and they met in a searing kiss - that all flew out the window.

The apron landed on the floor, quickly followed by their other clothes. Claire could hardly keep up with his pace but every thought she ever had left her brain when she felt his tongue between her thighs.

“Oh…” Claire exhaled, melting into the bedding and tipping her head back with a soft gasp when Harry licked into her. His fingers kept her open and he played with her clit like only he could, keeping his eyes closed as he revelled in her taste.

Claire’s eyes rolled back when he sucked on her, “Harry…” She moaned, “oh my god.” Her hand found his curls, pulling him closer into her as she fought to keep her lips still. Harry’s fingers joined, sinking inside her easily and dragging up her front wall until Claire shuddered and orgasmed.

But if she thought that was the end of it, she was deeply mistaken. After four orgasms total, Claire could hardly keep her eyes open. She laid spent on the bedding with Harry slotted in between her legs, dick inside of her.

He had her in every position imaginable, from rolling her on her tummy and pulling her hips up to take her from behind, to assisting her in riding him and then slipping inside her as they spooned - he always preferred to end in missionary.

Harry hunched over her, breathing into her neck and inhaling her scent as Claire’s pussy pulsed around his aching cock, milking him of everything he could offer her. His thighs trembled as they each came down from their orgasm, and Claire felt tingly and exhausted.

“Sweet girl.” Harry crooned in her ear, “I love you so much.”

Claire hummed and tiredly yawned, “Jesus,” she hummed in satisfaction, “I should get pregnant more often.”

Harry bit his lip and sharply thrusted, his half hard dick scooting up inside of Claire to make her whimper. He squeezed their laced-together fingers, “Any complaints?” He teased and she quickly shook her head, “N-Nope. None at all.”

“Thought so.” He chuckled.

“I love you, baby daddy.” Claire lazily smiled and Harry smiled into her neck, “I still can’t believe we’re finally having a baby.” He lifted up a bit to gaze down at her, and Claire had her eyes closed, softly smiling, “Me neither.” She murmured.

“I’ve wanted this for so long.” Harry stroked his thumb over her cheekbone, “The entire thing is just gonna be amazing. Watching you grow a beautiful bump, going to appointments together, being there with you for birth, watch our boys become big brothers.” He listed and Claire forced her eyes open to see Harry with a dreamy look on his face.

“I can’t wait to tell them.” She smiled and Harry chuckled, “They’re going to be over the moon. Should we - uh… wait until we’ve seen a doctor?”

Claire stifled a yawn, “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. I’ll call the doctor in a minute.”

“You take a nap first, babe. I’ll pick up the kids.” He offered, kissing the corner of her mouth.

Claire didn’t protest and let Harry clean her up a bit. She giggled when he ducked underneath the sheets to sponge kisses to her tummy and whisper things to a very tiny baby that she couldn’t understand. Claire felt lighter than she had in a long time.

She took a nap and later came down to her entire world sitting at the dining table. Atlas excitedly told her about his day and Finn climbed up on Claire’s thighs to show her some of his spelling homework.

It was about a week later that Nancy came around to talk to Atlas. Claire was a bit of a nervous wreck, keeping herself busy in the kitchen as Atlas sat in his bedroom with Nancy. They hadn’t talked about it much, but Claire tried to reassure Atlas that he could say whatever he wanted and that she was a nice woman.

A small hour later, Nancy came back down the stairs and offered Claire a smile, “You have a bright boy, Claire.” She congratulated her and Claire smiled while exhaling a sigh, “Thank you. Did everything go okay?”

“It did.” She nodded, “I took some notes and I asked him if he’s okay with me sharing whatever he said with you. He said it’s fine, so I’ll write it all in my report and go through it with you the next time we see each other.”

Claire nodded, “Okay. And - uh… is there anything I can do for him right now? Was it… emotional? Does he need something?”

Nancy’s mouth curled up into a small smile and she shook her head, “It wasn’t a very emotional talk. He was nice and polite and we played a little game. He showed me his room and his toys - he’s very proud of that giraffe.” She smiled and Claire chuckled, “Yeah, he is.”

“He said it was a gift from daddy Harry.”

Claire’s insides warmed and she sniffled once, nodding, “Mhm. He gave it to him for his birthday last year.”

“That’s sweet.” Nancy then briefly touched Claire’s arm in comfort, “You don’t have to do anything special for him tonight, Ms. Carter. Atlas is very emotionally mature and I’m sure he’ll show signs or tell you when he feels in distress.”

“Okay. Thank you.” Claire exhaled before she let Nancy out.

And in the week that passed, Claire and Harry got the confirmation from the doctor that she was, in fact, pregnant. Just five weeks. But they couldn’t even keep it in. Harry had already called his parents and Claire had tried with all her might to not let anything slip to Atlas and Finn. They hadn’t noticed anything about her this week, but they’d soon notice she skipped out on different foods or she’d get sick more often, or she’d grow a bump.

Harry was by far most excited about that. The baby was a far dream for now, his current dream was seeing Claire with a beautiful bump.

He touched her stomach all the time even if there was nothing there yet, and he whispered to the baby on most evenings while she was dozing off. It was adorable to see him, and he cried tears of joy more often in the last week than Claire had seen from him in all the time she knew him.

But tonight, they decided they were going to tell the boys.

And Claire felt excited, but also a little nervous. Harry was at another meeting and Claire would pick up Finn this Friday evening. Atlas stayed home due to Nancy coming around.

Claire wore a flowy top and had sunnies on her nose as she waited by the school gate, making the obligatory small talk with Dolores - who mostly asked questions about Harry.

“So, Atlas,” She leaned down to smile brightly at him. He forced a little smile back and Claire fought her giggle as Dolores took a breath, “how come you weren’t in school today? Are you feeling sick?” She raised her hand to place it on his forehead and Atlas backed away, into Claire’s side a little.

It made her heart shatter. Of course she always taught Atlas to not let strangers touch him without him giving consent, but it also went to show that he was scared of a raised hand. She stroked her fingers through his hair and cleared her throat, “No, he wasn’t sick. We just had something to do so we’re just picking up Finn now.”

“Something to do, hm?” Dolores smiled, “Something fun? If it makes you skip out on school?”

Claire rolled her eyes and then heard the bell ringing. Atlas jumped up to greet Finn by the gate and Claire smoothed her hands over her top, “Look, Dolores, please stop putting your nose all up in my business. If I don’t give details, it’s because it’s private.” She sternly spoke.

Dolores’ lips turned into a tight line and she shot Claire a fake smile, “Noted. Have a good weekend.”

“You too.” Claire sighed before her face lit up, “Finn!” She squeaked, the boy eagerly running up to her for a hug, “Hi, Claire bear.” He mumbled and she couldn’t even find it in herself to scold him for it today.

She took his backpack to put in the back of the car, “Are you excited for the weekend?” Claire asked as both boys got in the backseat.

“Yes!” They simultaneously shouted out, making Claire smile. She looked at Finn and Atlas playfully giggling through the rear-view mirror.

“How did it go today?” Finn questioned softly. One glance in the mirror told Claire that his question was directed towards Atlas. She nodded to herself, liking how Finn was there for emotional support for Atlas. They trusted each other through and through and proudly named one another their brother. And besides that, they were best friends.

Atlas shrugged, “It was okay. The lady was nice. She had funny glasses.”

“Really?” Finn smiled and Atlas eagerly nodded, “Mhm. They went like this.” He used his fingers to motion for a cat-eye shaped pair of glasses and Claire chuckled under her breath as Finn gasped in surprise, “Wow! Is she coming back? I wanna see!”

Atlas looked at Claire and she pressed her lips together, “I’m not sure. I don’t think so, honestly. She said you did so good. It might be enough to see you just the one time.”

Atlas proudly beamed at himself and Finn patted his hand, “Hear that? She said you did good!”

“I just answered her questions.” Atlas downplayed. Finn shifted a little, “What kind of questions?”

“About mummy and daddy. And you too. And daddy Harry.” Atlas spoke. Finn nodded as he listened intently. There was a lot of hurt in the car. Some people might find it admirable that Evan at least tried to fight for Atlas. For Finn, it was just Harry. Astrid didn’t even try to see him or know him.

Claire would never understand that choice, but on the other hand it did lead her to her Harry and a lifetime of happiness. Claire slipped her hand to the backseat to squeeze Finn’s calf playfully, “Hey, you know what we’re having for dinner tonight? It was your week to pick.”

Finn gasped excitedly, “Did daddy make enchiladas?!”

He mispronounced the word completely, making Claire crack up but she nodded, “Mhm, he made enchiladas.”

“Yay!” Finn squealed as Claire pulled up on the driveway, her smile growing when she saw Harry’s car parked there too.

“Hi, my three loves.” Harry greeted them playfully with open arms, catching one boy in each as they laughed and wrestled for a bit. He held Finn back just a tad when Claire approached, “Not too rough around mum, Finn.” He warned softly. Finn didn’t think much of it and Harry slipped an arm around Claire’s form, his other hand resting low on her tummy.

Pulling her in for a long kiss, he contently hummed against her lips, “How was today?” He whispered.

“Good.” Claire smiled, “Atlas did good. Nancy is going to give us the full report at the end but she said he was so polite and sweet. So… yeah. And Atlas seems fine so far.” She shrugged, “He hasn’t said anything. Spoke about it to Finn a bit in the car.”

“That’s great.” Harry nodded, “And you? Not too rough this morning?”

“Just some sickness.” Claire shrugged, “But I didn’t throw up.”

Harry helped her put down her bag, “Did you get sick a lot when pregnant with Atlas?”

Claire swallowed thickly as she avoided his gaze, “To be honest, I - uh… I can’t really remember.”

Harry caught on and softly squeezed her hip, “‘S okay. Did you still want to tell them tonight?”

She bit her lip with a smile, “Yeah, I think so. Hey, how was the meeting?”

“Good! I pitched the idea for the new columns and they’re on board.” He shrugged, “So just need to order in the materials now.”

Claire patted his ass, “Good job, daddy.”

He huffed out, shaking his head in disbelief, “Brat.”

“What?” Claire innocently shrugged while taking a glass from the cupboard, “Just calling you by your rightful name.”

He walked up to her with a small smirk, grabbing her throat but not alarming Claire in the slightest. Harry affectionatelly rubbed his nose with hers, “I’m gonna get you back tonight, you know that, right?”

“Counting on it.” She whispered back, pecking his lips in a chaste kiss.

Harry felt a blush on his cheeks when he watched the way she walked away from him, sultrily swaying her hips. He felt so in love he didn’t even know what do with himself. No day with Claire was ever dull.

It was after dinner, when everyone was heading to the couch for a movie, that Claire nervously fiddled her fingers. Finn and Atlas sat waiting with big round eyes, “What’s the surprise?” Atlas frowned in confusion.

“We got something for the both of you.” Harry came walking up with two little bags. Claire forced a smile, knowing it was the corniest gift ever and she had absolutely no say in it. But Harry had a vision in telling the boys, and this was it.

Finn frowned too, “Is it someone’s birthday?”

“It’s not.” Harry chuckled, handing both boys a gift bag but holding up his finger, “It’s very important that you open it together and that you very carefully read what’s on it before asking any questions, okay?”

The boys eagerly nodded yet Finn pouted, “Read?” He repeated, “More reading? I thought school was done.”

Claire sputtered out a laugh at his sarcasm and even Harry found himself amused, knowing that was 100% Claire’s influence rubbing off on him. He shot Finn a look, “Just open it, bub.”

Atlas’ tongue poked out in concentration as he tried to open the ribbon and Harry and Claire shared a look before he took her hand in his and gave a squeeze.

“Slow down, Finn.” Harry softly chuckled, alerting him to wait for Atlas a bit. Eventually both boys got to opening up the bag and Claire held her breath, keeping her eyes on Atlas solemnly as he frowned in confusion, pulling out the shirt in his size and he held it open.

“World’s…” Finn struggled a bit to read the words and Harry clenched his jaw, his surprise not really going how he wanted.

“... best big brother.” Atlas finished, tilting his head to the side. Claire felt tears in her eyes this time as Atlas slowly lowered the shirt with a frown of confusion on his face. He blinked at Claire once before dropping his eyes to her stomach, and Claire’s pulse skyrocketed.

Harry cleared his throat softly, “You’re going to be big brothers. Mum and dad are… uh - having a baby.” He spoke almost nervously.

Finn’s brows raised as his jaw dropped, “A new little bub?” He gasped.

“A new little bub.” Harry chuckled in a nod.

“Baby?” Claire checked, waiting for Atlas’ reaction. He still seemed dumbfounded before he flicked his eyes between Harry and Claire, “We’re getting a little brother?”

“O-Or a sister.” Claire stuttered. Atlas immediately pouted at that, making Harry throw his head back in a laugh.

“Or a brother.” Claire quickly smiled.

Atlas got up his feet and ran up to her. Claire let go of Harry’s hand to catch Atlas, wrapping her arms around his body as he pressed his face to her neck, “Mummy, I’m so happy.” He murmured.

“Oh, thank god.” Claire sighed out, and Harry rubbed his hand over Atlas’ back with a smile.

“How long do we have to wait?!” Finn squealed, joining in on the group hug. Claire sniffled as Harry laughed, “About eight months, buddy. So… around February of next year.”

“That’s long.” Atlas pulled back with a pout, “I’ll be eight by then.”

“You will be.” Claire cupped his cheek lovingly, “You’ll both be.”

Atlas went on to hug Harry as FInn cuddled into Claire, “I love you, mum.” He whispered and Claire cried some more, kissing his cheek repeatedly, “I love you too, angel boy.”

“Now you’re the one crying.” Harry teased as he squeezed the back of Claire’s neck. She breathed out a huffing chuckle, “I’m pregnant, I’m allowed.”

“Yeah, you are.” He smiled.

***

“And then Atlas said that he gets along really well with Finn.” Nancy smiled.

Harry’s hand was on Claire’s thigh and she toyed with his fingers as they sat in Nancy’s office together. Today was their second appointment with Nancy, and basically their last. The next time they saw one another would be right before court, when she would hand out the final reports before their hearing.

Harry smiled at the words, “They do get along really well.”

“Mhm.” Claire agreed, “It’s sweet to see.”

“Atlas said so. He said Finn is his best friend.” She put the papers down, “Overall, Ms. Carter and Mr. Styles, I got to know Atlas as a very respectful and wise young man.”

Claire’s heart warmed and Nancy continued, “It was clear to me that he was genuine and honest, and his truth is that he doesn’t necessarily want any contact with his biological father. He doesn’t miss him when he’s not there and he doesn’t feel too comfortable in the house either.” Nancy then turned around a few of the papers, “I asked Atlas to draw. Both his houses.”

Claire leaned forward as Harry squinted a bit, seeing the stick figures and houses drawn. Nancy pointed to one, “This is where he drew your house. He drew this one first. He went for oranges and yellow-tones for the house itself and drew you both with precision, including color of your hair.”

Claire stared at the drawn version of herself and Nancy tapped her finger on Claire’s stick figure, “He drew you with flowers on your dress.”

“He loves that dress.” Claire smiled softly and Harry squeezed her leg.

“He drew a lot of flowers and hearts around the house itself too. And he drew clouds in his room.” Nancy ran her finger in a circle over where Atlas drew his room, “I asked him why, and he said it means dreams and comfort.”

Claire’s lip wobbled as she forced a smile. Her sweet boy.

Nancy softly cleared her throat, “Then I asked him to draw his father’s house.” Nancy grabbed another paper, and Claire and Harry’s faces immediately fell.

“He used only… grey for this one. No decorations,” Nancy explained, “no colours, no flowers, no… clouds.” She showed the house Atlas drew, “It was also noticeable how in your house, he drew himself as part of the family. When drawing his father’s house, he drew just his father. And he’s not smiling either.”

Claire and Harry didn’t respond much, just stared at the drawings. Nancy put the papers back and clasped her fingers together, “Me and Atlas played a little game after. With cards that have questions on them. I asked him what he likes about mum’s house, and he said he likes it because you’re there. He feels safe and warm, and he said daddy Harry is a very good cook.”

Harry’s lips curled into a grin and he chuckled, almost blushing. Nancy smiled along, “I asked him the same about his father, and he… he didn’t have much to say. He said it’s quite bland. They don’t do much besides watch TV. And he misses swim practice every other week, and he likes to swim.”

“In short,” Nancy breathed, “Atlas doesn’t seem to have much connection to his dad. You’ll read it in the final report, but I of course had all these conversations with the father as well. Just like I asked you, I asked him to describe his son. He… he didn’t say much.” Nancy shrugged.

Claire huffed. It didn’t necessarily surprise her that Evan couldn’t describe Atlas. He wasn’t an attentive person in general and he didn’t know much about Atlas. He didn’t ask things either. Nancy cleared her throat, “For example, he couldn’t tell me Atlas’ favorite color, or his favorite subject in school, or his favorite toy or game.”

“So… I mean, these things are telling, right? Atlas is too young to be heard by the judge, but he literally told you he doesn’t want to see Evan anymore. That means something, right?” Harry questioned.

Nancy nodded, “It does. Of course… a family judge will always try to include both biological parents in the life of a child. Especially a child that can’t make that decision for himself. Atlas is young. Chances are that the judge will give Evan another chance.”

Claire frowned, “Another chance? He’s gotten billions of chances.”

“I’m also allowed to state my advice to the judge. It’s not binding, in the sense that I can’t make the decision but I can steer in a certain direction,” Nancy explained, “and I will definitely advise for an ending of contact between Atlas and Evan.”

Harry and Claire exhaled a sigh of relief and nodded to themselves, “Thank you.” Claire spoke.

And low and behold, a few weeks later, Claire and Harry went back to court to face Evan and hear the judge. Claire was a nervous wreck, and Harry constantly stroked his hand over her tummy. She was now almost three months pregnant and when wearing something extremely tight, the tiniest of bumps showed.

Claire was sure Harry imagined the bump and she had just been slacking with working out since the pregnancy, but Harry was convinced it was there. And he loved on her tiny bump like nothing else.

Today, it was concealed.

Claire wore a sundress as July approached. Harry’s mum was at the house to look after the boys for today, and tomorrow they were heading to camp for a week so Harry and Claire had some time to themselves as well.

To either cry about what was said today, or to celebrate it.

Timothy stood behind them, explaining to the judge what he had read in the social inquiry. Evan looked pissed as fuck because Nancy actually did advise for the contact between him and Atlas to be broken for the time being. Nancy didn’t advise this forever, and the judge repeated how a custody arrangement was something dynamic. Atlas would age and his needs would change, but Claire could only hope that from now on, they’d always respect his decisions and his wishes.

Timothy repeated Nancy’s words, saying that Atlas clearly didn’t have a connection with Evan and that he didn’t ask for it. Evan’s judge argued that Atlas was young and maybe didn’t exactly know what he wanted.

The judge cleared her throat and Harry and Claire held their breaths as she spoke out that Atlas and Evan were not to have contact. Almost a restraining order, so to say. It’d be under evaluation for at least six months, after which there’d probably be a new social inquiry to see how things were.

Evan’s lawyer did get the judge to agree that someone other than Nancy was to conduct the next social inquiry. Claire rolled her eyes at that.

She refused to look at Evan, not even when she felt his gaze burning on the side of her face. When he could clearly see the way Harry gently cradled Claire’s barely there bump. He couldn’t keep his hands off, especially when needing comfort or when wanting to comfort Claire.

“Oh, thank god.” Claire sighed as she turned to Harry, immediately wrapping her arms around him when the decision was final. Atlas was theirs, and he’d never have to go see his dad again unless he wanted to.

Harry exhaled in relief as he kissed the side of Claire’s neck, “You did it.” He whispered, “‘M so proud of you.”

“We did it.” Claire corrected him, pulling back to cup his cheek and plant a kiss to his lips. She felt like a huge weight was lifted off her shoulders. And Harry’s too.

His eyes looked light and energized when he smiled at her, love radiating from him, “Let’s go home to our boys.” He squeezed her fingers as the pair left the courtroom.

That night, the family of four celebrated. Harry’s mum stayed over too, occupying herself with the kids a little while Claire assisted Harry in the kitchen for dinner. She cupped her hand underneath the dripping spoon he let her get a taste off and she hummed, nodding before she licked her lip, “It’s so good, H.”

“Yeah? Does it need anything more?” Harry checked and Claire shook her head, hopping on the countertop, “No, it’s perfect. I don’t understand how you do that.”

Harry chuckled, “What? Make tomato-sauce? It’s so easy.”

“Well, if it’s so easy, I’d be able to do it.” Claire muttered under her breath. Harry walked over to her, splitting her knees as he stood in between them, “Hey,” he chuckled with a slightly teasing tone, “we balance each other out, hm? I’m good at the cooking, you’re good at other stuff.”

She cocked up an eyebrow, “Like what?”

Harry opened his lips and Claire shot him a challenging look, “I swear, if you say cleaning…” She held up a warning finger and Harry laughed before pretending to bite it. He leaned in to press a deep kiss to her lips, “No, m’love. Other things.” His hands slipped up her dress to feel her bare thighs, “So good at so many other things.” He whispered against her lips before Claire wrapped her arms around his shoulders and they were pulled into a deep make-out session.

Tongues tangled together as the food sputtered on the stove. Harry softly groaned as he nipped below her ear, “Can’t wait to fuck you in this kitchen every day next week.”

She breathed out a chuckle, running her fingers through his hair, “Trust me, me neither.” They both loved their boys so incredibly much, but a week with just the two of them sounded incredible. No responsibilities.

“Won’t be able to bend you over though.” Harry murmured, hand slipping to the bulging in her tummy as he gently stroked his fingers over her skin. Claire puffed out a breath, “We’ll do it on the bed then.” She panted, “You can bend me over all you want.”

He chuckled, “Dirty.” His hips rutted forward as they teased each other in the kitchen. The tip of his tongue flicked her bottom lip and Claire fought her shudder as Harry had her in the palm of his hand.

They were in the exact same position just twenty-four hours later. Only now it was just the two of them in the house. And now, Claire’s dress was pulled up over her hips and the straps of her shoulders were tugged down to expose her tits. Harry panted into her mouth as he thrusted inside of her, filling her deep with each thrust.

“Fuck - y’feel so good.” Harry moaned, lifting her thigh a little higher around his hip to get the deeper angle. Claire’s head thudded back into the cabinet, her lips open in laboured breaths while Harry stared at the bounce in her tits from the rhythm he had set.

After sex in the kitchen, they were in a teasing and playful mood. Harry chased Claire through the house for a bit until they ate more of Harry’s heavenly cooking with a candle dancing between them.

“C’mon, let’s go for a walk.” Harry offered Claire his hand and she sighed out, fixing her hair in the clip a little after cleaning up their dishes, “Really? Can’t we just… watch a movie?”

Harry pouted, “Babe, c’mon… it’s such a beautiful night. It’s nice and warm, and the fresh air will do us good before going to sleep.”

Claire was easily persuaded when Harry pouted at her like that, so she put on her slippers and they exited the house for a walk in the summer evening. The sun was down but the crickets were loud and the temperatures were still warm.

Their fingers were laced together as Harry guided them in the direction of a little nearby park. Claire was in the middle of telling an elaborate story about Dolores when she stopped on her tracks, blinking at the sight in front of her.

The one big tree that stood central in the little park, was lit up with lampions. It exuded warmth and Harry gently tugged Claire’s hand, “Come on.” He murmured, pulling her in the direction of the tree.

“H-Harry.” She stuttered, not finding any other words to say as she stumbled behind him a little. His face lit up from the lights as he smiled at her, coming to a stop underneath the tree. The shock on Claire’s face was slightly amusing as she blinked at him, “Did you do this?” She whispered.

“Mhm.” Harry smiled softly before cupping her chin and bringing her in for a kiss, “I wanted it to be perfect.”

“Oh my god.” Claire’s heart slammed in her chest and Harry chuckled at the tone of realization in her voice. He nodded softly and held her hands, “Mhm. You always tell me Atlas can’t keep a secret, hm?”

Claire mindlessly nodded and Harry licked his lip, “Well, he kept this secret real good. Even from Finn. He didn’t tell Finn or you that him and I went on a long walk a few weeks back and that we had a really good conversation. He asked me if I loved you and I said yes. He asked me if I’d love you forever, and I said yes. And then I asked him permission to ask you to marry me.”

“Oh my god.” Claire repeated, her voice sounding watery as tears filled her eyes but she broke out into a wide smile. Harry mirrored it and cleared his throat softly, “So here I am. Almost two years after I first thought I’d like to marry you.” He near mumbled the last part, almost saying it more to himself.

“So, my sweet Claire bear.” He teased with a smile while squeezing her fingers before taking a breath, “You came into my life like a fucking hurricane, but I’ve never felt this free or happy. A-And I can’t believe we’re having a baby together. Being with you feels so freeing, like I’ve known you all my life. And it’s so easy between us too. And then I see you with our boys and everything just clicks. You’re truly the love of my life and there’s no one I’d rather share all my days with.” He spoke.

Claire giggled as she giddily leaned in to kiss him. Harry smiled against her lips, “Will you marry me?” He whispered against her lips.

“Yes!” Claire squeaked, jumping in his arms. Harry caught her easily as they laughed and cuddled and he spun her around. Claire kissed the side of his neck and then his lips, smiling through the kissing, “I love you.” She smiled, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“Love you more.” Harry chuckled, patting her ass, “Don’t you wanna see the ring?”

“Oh, right!” Claire laughed, “I almost forgot.”

“Atlas helped me pick it out.” Harry grabbed a small velvet box from his pocket and Claire held her breath when he opened it up, revealing the minimalistic yet elegant ring, with a small diamond. It wasn’t too in your face, but it was there, and it was perfect.

Claire pressed her palm to her chest, “Oh, Harry…” She murmured, “It’s so beautiful, oh my god.”

“D’you like it?” He checked, slightly nervous. Claire couldn’t tear her eyes away from the ring as she nodded, “I love it. Truly. Wow.”

“You make me so happy.” Harry smiled as he wrapped her up again after sliding the ring on her finger. They breathily kissed while mumbling out love affirmations until Claire started waddling them back to the house.

Harry laughed at her eagerness as he gladly allowed Claire to guide him back home for a night of celebrations.

thank you so much for reading along!!! i adore this one :D :D :D

p.s. you asked to be tagged hehe: @theekyliepage

#wattpad #alisonfelix #writers on tumblr #writing #fanfiction #one direction #hs #harrystyles #harrystylesfanfiction #1dff #harry styles #harry styles au #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles smut one shot #hs one shot

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inquisimer · 3 days

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dragon age character study fic recs

I'm back with another fic rec list, this time focusing on character studies! There were so many more than five that I flagged as interesting 👀 when I was putting this together, so there's definitely a chance that this theme makes a repeat in the future.

Check these awesome fics out! And leave a comment + kudos to let the author know you did💜

Vote in this poll to help me choose a theme for next week's rec list (:

New Tricks by Penknife (@penknife)

Dorian Pavus & Cullen Rutherford, Josephine Montilyet & Cullen Rutherford & Leliana | G | 1968 words | No Archive Warnings Apply Author's Summary: Five times Cullen found that he didn't have to do everything the hard way. Mer's Rec: If you're into Cullen & Dorian friendship, or really any Cullen friendship, this fic will be right up your alley. Penknife does an excellent job of contrasting Dorian as a beleaguered academic (beloved) with Cullen's quieter intelligence. They also highlight Cullen as a strategist and commander, not just the "send the troops" guy, and the advisor interactions resonate with coworker friend energy, which I loved. I always adore fics that explore Cullen's habits and traits leftover from so many years as a Templar and this story seamlessly weaves in those details, which brings a real depth to both Cullen and his interactions.

Names Are Cloaks by EllanaSan

Female Adaar & Josephine Montilyet | G | 2963 words | No Archive Warnings Apply Author's Summary: They can’t have that, she supposes, the Herald of Andraste being called names behind her back… The only way the situation could have been worse is if she had been an elf. She could tell the ambassador that there are people in this very camp disrespecting her at every turn but she is far too used to it to care. They call her oxwoman. They call her witch. They call her chosen or your worship. They call her Tal-Vashoth. Names are weapons. For the bearer to hold and to wield. Names are cloaks. For the bearer to wrap themselves in and discard when outgrown. Mer's Rec: With Bioware's scant lore about Qunari and the Qun, I was impressed by how this story immersed me in Adaar's history. Tidbits from canon interwoven with fascinating-slash-heartbreaking details about the Qun, Vashoth, and Saarebas, plus her introspective musings on the past and her identity make this Adaar stand out from the cookie-cutter protagonist in the best way. I want to know more about her! From Josephine's dialogue and mannerisms to the uncertainty, fear, and alienation the Herald can experience in Haven, everything about this story feels like it could be straight out of the DAI canon.

I have outlived the night by lilith_morgana (@senseandaccountability)

Loghain Mac Tir, Minor/Background Relationships | T | 2106 words | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Author's Summary: He's five, he's eighteen, nineteen, twenty, forty-six, and fifty-five, he's fifty-six, fifty-seven and ready to die. Instead, he lives. Mer's Rec: The emotion in this fic is so palpable, so visceral, and it slaps you in the face the way careful consideration of complicated characters should. With repeated contrasts between Loghain in his youth versus his later years, the author takes us on a journey from hot-headed kid to weary veteran, and it just makes your heart ache😭 It features strong exposition on Loghain's motives, feelings, and regrets during the Fifth Blight, which I love to see since it's fairly absent from the game itself. Their portrayal of Loghain in Inquisition also felt fresh and different, including a conversation with Cullen, which is a dynamic I hadn't considered before and found incredibly interesting to read. And of course it ends on a bittersweet note, as it always does with Loghain.

To Yield Is Not Weak by disasterhawke

Alistair/Anora Mac Tir | M | 4018 words | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Author's Summary: She may not like her new husband, but Anora Theirin is not about to let the world treat him like it has treated her. She will do whatever it takes to earn his trust. This is not quite what he expects. An Anora character study that explores her arranged marriage to her husband's bastard brother. Mer's Rec: this 👏 was 👏 everything I wanted out of an Alistair/Anora fic! While I think antagonism between those two has a place, this fic explored their relationship through the lens of teaching and working together, rather than animosity. It works SO well and there was a definite give-and-take, with Anora running the show immediately post-coronation, but gradually softening her harsher edges and highlighting Alistair's strengths while they grow as rulers. Anora's internal monologue, not only about Alistair, but also Cailan and Loghain, does a fantastic job showing the humanity she usually has to hide, without diminishing her competence in the least.

when the bough breaks by gummies (orphaned)

Morrigan, Flemeth | G | 1124 words | No Archive Warnings Apply Author's Summary: In her hands, the mouse is kept still. The only movement Morrigan feels from it is the beating of its tiny heart. With her eyes closed, it almost seems that she is holding in her hands its heart alone. Tiny, vulnerable, and so stutteringly fast. It must be afraid, Morrigan muses. Something twinges in her chest. Empathy. She cannot help the flare of protectiveness inside her. For now, the mouse is hers. Plucked from the world from whence it came, tucked away and safe. She wonders if this is how Mother feels of her. Mer's Rec: What struck me most about this fic was the author's grasp of character voices. Flemeth is just as cunning and calculating as she comes across in game, but I was beyond impressed by their young!Morrigan. I could see and hear so clearly how Morrigan would get from the childlike hope she has in this story to the harsher, bitter Morrigan we meet in game. I don't even know how they did that, but it was incredible to read, even as this slice of Morrigan's childhood and her abuse at Flemeth's hands was breaking my heart.

Don't forget to get your fic and art recs lined up for tomorrow's Fan Work Friday!

#fic rec #dragon age fanfic #dragon age fanfiction #long post #dragon age inquisition #adaar #cullen rutherford #dragon age origins #loghain mac tir #anora mac tir #alistair theirin #morrigan #dao #dai #dragon age #dragon age fic rec

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jimraisedmeup · 2 days

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TICK // 1.1 - gimme danger

Rating: mature (language, sexual content)

Word Count: 640

☾

There's nothing in my dreams Just some ugly memories Kiss me like the ocean breeze

Now, if you will be my lover I will shiver and sing But if you can't be my master I will do anything

☾

September 1983 - junior year

"Who does your tattoos, Edward Munson?"

The blunt voice behind him took him off guard, appearing out of nowhere. It didn't even sound like a question. More like a matter-of-fact demand.

Your voice was thick and dripping like honey. Deeper than the voices of other girls in your school. Eddie was so used to the high-pitched, bubblegum-popping, giggling tones of the artificial female species that wandered the halls of Hawkins High.

The cafeteria around him was bustling with all the usual assholes, but suddenly all he could focus on was the figure of you standing behind him.

Finally turning around to lay eyes on the culprit, Eddie was shocked to see you.

He knew you, of course. Or at least knew of you.

In the back of his mind, he tried to remember if he had ever even spoken to you before. But he would have remembered your unique voice. Eddie's whole life revolved around sounds, melodies, vibrations.

You were a year younger than him, being a junior while he was a senior. He recalled seeing you in the crowded hallways. Plain hair. A face that said leave me the fuck alone. Weren’t you a part of the French Club or some shit?

His mind was racing, but still responded to you without any sign of hesitation. There were too many witnesses around for him to let his guard down. Bako and Donny, seated at the table with him, openly stared in awe.

Eddie found his vocal cords. "I do some of them. My uncle has a friend that does some of them."

Your disarming gaze bore into him, squinting for a moment. Eddie took a second to glance down at your clothes. Blue jeans. Gray fitted t-shirt. You were plain. No other word for it.

"How much for one?"

"What?"

"A tattoo. How much do you charge for a tattoo."

Again, you didn’t really ask it as a question. It was less of an innocent query and more of a personal space invasion, a solicitation. Your face gave away not a single emotion or even a hint of a personality.

Eddie scratched his head, acting like he was thinking deeply. He glanced at Donny, who looked at him like well, say something, idiot!

"Well, sunshine, that depends."

That's all he could think of. Why were you suddenly speaking to him? You had successfully ignored each other for the last however many years.

Your shoulders dropped in annoyance, but you still held onto the lunch tray in your hands.

"Okay, depends on what?"

A wicked grin painted his lips. At the motion of your shoulders falling, he could easily tell that you definitely weren’t wearing a bra. Your tits were smaller than average, basically nonexistent, but Eddie had x-ray vision at the short distance between you and him.

"Hmm… size, the design… location." Leaning over in the plastic chair, he purposely fixed his eyes on your ample behind.

You scoffed at him, "Cool, you're a real Don Juan. Let's get to the point, yeah? I want a quarter sized half moon on my hip. Just the outline, nothing fancy. Need more info?"

Taking his time to answer, mainly because he suddenly found himself entertained by your impatience, he shrugged.

"Nah. I'll do it for fifteen bucks."

"Deal. How soon can you do it?"

You were all business and no play. Eddie was enticed by your no-bullshit confidence.

A shocking flash of pink passed behind you: a popular girl chatting excitedly with a football player. Neon pink windbreaker, bleach blonde hair in perfect curls. Eddie observed her.

And then he looked back at you. So ordinary yet so different.

"How does this weekend sound?"

You held your hand out in front of him to shake. Your skin was smooth and warm on his callouses.

"Don't fuck this up, Munson. I'll see you Friday."

☾

There's nothing left alive But a pair of glassy eyes Raise my feelings one more time

☾

(song lyrics credit: "Gimme Danger" by The Stooges)

TAGLIST for this series if you would like to be notified when I post new chapters!

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddiemunson #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things #eddie munson slow burn #eddie x you #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x buckley!reader

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featherandferns · 4 hours

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guilty as sin?(fic - part 2/2)

jj maybank x fem!routledge!reader | read part 1 here!

content warning: mentions of sexual content; mentions of parental abuse (drug misuse, physical abuse, neglect, emotional abuse); physical violence (blood) | any questions for trigger warnings, feel free to inbox anonymously

word count: 10k.

blurb: you and JJ start a secret relationship under the radar of your half-brother, John B. But with your life in Colorado becoming more and more unavoidable, and stupid slip-ups as the two of you grow closer, it becomes harder to keep your affair secret.

Daylight brings you out of your sleep, disoriented. You grunt and try to bury yourself deeper into the sheets, hiding from the sunlight. They smell like JJ. It relaxes you like a baby soothed by its favourite blanket. But then you remember what happened, and where you are, and that it’s morning. Sitting up, you glance around the bedroom and yep, this is definitely not my room. You look down to find JJ still sleeping, his face smushed into pillow. He’s on his front, the bedsheets mostly hogged by yours truly, showing his back decorated with scratch marks. A weird sense of pride overcomes you, like you’ve marked your territory. Sighing, you relax back into the bed. There’s a dull ache between your legs and you’re slightly sticky with sweat, but neither is particularly unpleasant. After a few minutes, you decide you can’t take the quiet anymore.

You roll over and prod at JJ’s face.

“Mhm, leave me alone, it’s the weekend.”

“Wake up. I’m bored,” you say.

You keep poking until he bats your hand away. With a long exhale, he rolls onto his side and cracks open an eye.

“Hi,” you smile. It’s hard not. You feel like you’ve slept with a coat hanger in your mouth.

“Hi.”

He reaches out a hand and strokes the side of your face, tucking some hair behind your ears. There’s a sleepy smile growing on his face as he wakes up.

“Sleep okay?” he rasps, voice croaky from want of use.

“Mhm. You?”

“Like a Goddamn baby.”

With another grunt and sigh, he shifts onto his back and reaches blindly for his phone on the nightstand. He checks the time first, and then his notifications, and suddenly he jolts up in bed, wide awake.

“Your brother’s been blowing me up.”

You stomach drops. “What?”

“He’s asking if I know where you are,” JJ says, reading the texts.

“Do you think he knows I’m here?” you worry.

Suddenly the tryst of last night loses its incandescent glow. Reality is there in the morning the same way sun sheds light on all things that happen in the dark.

JJ shakes his head, eyes fixated on his screen. “No, no. He’d have come over.”

“Oh, right,” you mumble. You sit up and gnaw on one of your nails. JJ shuts off his phone and looks at you. “We gotta come up with an alibi.”

“Right. Course,” he nods.

“Um…We can just say that I slept over.”

JJ looks at you like you just suggested to commit a joint felony and skip state.

“Not that I slept over, slept over. You can say you saw shit go down with Tom, you offered to give me a ride back, I was upset and fell asleep.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Yeah, yeah, that makes sense. I gave you the bed and I crashed on the couch, and we forgot to text him.”

“I think my phone’s dead anyway, so it’s not even a complete lie. And I did stay over here, so…”

JJ swallows. He nods and starts typing, sending the text. You both wait in pregnant silence for John B to respond. The minute it comes through, JJ reads it aloud.

“Cool. Just wanted to check she’s okay. Thanks for looking out for her.”

The sigh of relief the two of you share sounds rehearsed. As JJ types his reply, a question comes to mind. You’d spent all last night suppressing it, but now it spews out of you like word vomit.

“Is this a bad idea?”

JJ sends the message and shuts off his phone, looking to you. “Is what a bad idea?”

“This,” you say, gesturing between the both of you. “Us.”

“No,” JJ replies, but his expression tells you otherwise. “No. ‘Sides, it’s only gonna happen the one time, right? No harm done. What John B doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

“Right. Yeah, the one time,” you echo.

JJ nods. “One time.”

Thank God neither of you are on the witness stand: you don’t sound very convincing. What was supposed to be a ‘get it out of the system’ affair might have unlocked some feral part of you that can’t go unfed. You didn’t have an extensive sexual history, but JJ blew all of them and your own psyche out of the water. That isn’t the kind of thing you can just walk away from, especially when you’ll see him every day.

“Just as long as John B doesn’t find out,” you hear yourself remark.

“Yeah. He’s got enough shit going on right now; we just need to be there for him.”

You nod.

“Sides. I made him a promise.”

Frowning, you ask, “a promise?”

“When you first came back to Kildare, I sort of brought up to John B that night at the bonfire, when you went to bed early, that I thought you were kinda cute. But he got ticked off. Told me you were going through a tough time and stuff, and to stay away from you. ‘If you’re a real friend, you’ll stay away from her’, to quote.”

“Yikes,” you mumble.

JJ nods, looking down at his hands. “Yep. Pretty clear message there.”

“Yeah, you really drove it home.”

He thankfully laughs at that.

“I mean, that’s some real Romeo and Juliet shit,” you add, laughing yourself.

He shakes his head. “Shit, I hope not. Don’t really wanna stab myself.”

“No, I stab myself. You just drink poison,” you correct.

“Yeah, I’m still not thrilled about that.”

You snigger and sink back into the pillows propped against his headrest. “I mean, it could be kinda fun, sneaking around.”

JJ raises a brow, lolling his head to the side to meet your gaze. “Oh yeah?”

“Mhm. Little secret hook-ups and stuff…”

“You’re that horny, huh?”

You shove his shoulder, revelling in his laugh. He grabs your hand and presses a quick kiss to your wrist. Then he looks at you, smiles, and it’s almost like a silent agreement. This is not a one-time thing.

“Breakfast?”

“God, yes,” you sigh.

JJ’s kitchen isn’t just messy, it’s unclean. You can understand why: his dad doesn’t scream house-wife energy and JJ is hardly home. He’s also, as hard as it is to admit it, a teenage boy. In the fruit bowl there’s mouldy peaches and bananas which are black. Fruit flies are having a feast, so at least there’s some positives to the pandemonium. The fridge is barren apart from some bacon. He keeps bread in the freezer so at least that isn’t mouldy. You perch yourself on the counter, dressed in nothing but his t-shirt, and watch him cook. It’s domestic and dull and you love every moment. He serves up two bacon sandwiches and passes one to you. Stands between your legs as you eat, one of his hands taking purchase on your bare thigh.

“S’good,” you tell him through your chewing.

“Thanks. Bout as good as my cooking gets.”

“Mhm. I could live off bacon sandwiches,” you say.

JJ chuckles. “Think Kie might have something to say about that. About how pigs are killing the planet with deforestation and treated unhumanely and bla bla bla.”

“I love your passion for political issues,” you sarcastically remark. He pinches your thigh in retaliation. You laugh. It’s simple and stupid and blissful.

When the two of you are done eating, he adds your dirty dishes to the impressive stack in the sink and makes no move to clean them. You follow him back to his bedroom and the two of you get dressed. He recommends you shower back the Chateau and you take it as code for ‘our bathroom is disgusting’. Thankfully when you peed in the dark last night, you were too fucked-out to notice. Once dressed, you tame your hair with a comb in the mirror and let JJ press kisses into your neck. He’s like a koala bear: it’s impossible to keep his hands off you. How the fuck are we gonna sneak around?

“We should head back before John B gets suspicious,” you tell him, placing the comb back on his desk.

JJ nods. He looks mouth wateringly good in his muscle tee. “I’ll take you back on my bike.”

Every minute spent as a backpack on JJ’s bike, you tether yourself to him as closely as possible. Now that the barrier has been broken, everything has come flooding out. Those same feelings that you harboured back in your preteens have only grown with your age. And now he’s here, in your arms, and you don’t want to let go. As the Chateau comes into sight, you know you have to. John B is hanging in the hammock with Kie. JJ kicks out the stand and steps off, as do you, and you both walk over with a safe space between you.

“Hey! Here they are!”

“Hey!” you smile back, waving to Kiara.

“Jeez, you guys took your time this morning,” John B comments.

Before JJ can speak, you say, “yeah, I had one too many last night. Threw up and needed more sleep.”

“Welcome to Kildare,” Kie grins. You laugh and give a mock bow as if you’d passed some unspoken initiation.

“Right, well, I gotta head out. Helping Lou out with some jobs today,” JJ declares.

“Alright man. See you round,” Kiara says, her attention already back on her phone.

“And thanks for taking care of my little sister,” John B adds.

JJ looks down at you. There’s a playful glint in his eyes as he says. “Yeah, no problem. It was fun.”

Asshole.

Then he’s wandering off to his bike, leaving you stranded, having to act as if last night never happened. You head into the house and work on your watercolours. All you can seem to notice is that the colours of the marsh water are the same as JJ’s eyes. The same eyes you stared into as he came apart underneath you.

Shit. This is going to suck.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sneaking around was…doable. If it weren’t for the Friday nights, you weren’t sure you’d be able to cope. Even then, the question grew more and more with each clandestine meeting. How long can this last?

Friday nights were spent at JJ’s house. You told John B that you were crashing at Lizzy’s, and JJ made up some bullshit excuse to get out of hanging out with the Pogues on Friday evenings: I gotta help my dad with this thing…The nights were spent tangled in bedsheets, pillow talk breaking up the unsated touching that made up for lost time. Your body is still recovering from the buzz of an orgasm when your phone starts to buzz on the nightstand.

JJ leans over and picks it up. His chest is damp with sweat from the nightly antics. He rolls back over to you and holds out your phone.

“Your mom’s calling.”

“Let it go to voicemail,” you tell him, not sparing it a glance.

JJ does as you say and when the ‘missed call’ notification appears, it’s accompanied by ‘(23)’.

“You ignoring her or something?” JJ asks, alluding to the pile-up of missed calls.

You look to him and shrug. “Or something.”

“What’s going on with all that, anyway?”

Your intestines twist uncomfortably. “What’d you mean?”

“I mean, why aren’t you in Colorado for the summer?”

“I told you. I wanted a change of scenery,” you say.

JJ laughs, unconvinced. “Bull-shit. You haven’t come back here in years, and you’re closer to L.A. than North Carolina. Why not go there? It’s warmer.”

“Hardly,” you say. “And it’s full of fake people. Influencers and tourists. And the traffic is—”

“Think we’re getting off topic?” JJ wonders, raising a brow.

You take your phone off him and clear the notifications, as if washing away your mom’s presence in your life entirely. Sitting up, you shove your hair off your face and dump your phone on the windowsill.

“What does it matter, JJ? So I wanted to come to Kildare again – who cares?”

“I care,” JJ replies. He sits up too.

You snort, irritation tickling at your throat. “What? Cause we’re fucking you think you deserve an explanation?”

He frowns. “Don’t say that.”

“Say what?”

“‘Fucking’. Like this thing between us isn’t deeper than that,” he argues.

Swallowing your anger, you sigh and close your eyes. “You’re right. I’m sorry, I’m just…It’s complicated.”

When you open your eyes, they land on your phone. The screen lights up as if on cue, and you know it’s your mom chasing you down for the millionth time. You’re not sure why keep avoiding her, like the problem might go away if you ignore it. It’s like a tumour: leaving it be will only cause it to fester and grow, and be all the more awful to deal with later. But facing the truth is so painfully hard. You lean over and turn your phone off completely.

“I thought John B already told you about it all, anyway,” you quietly say.

“Not really. Only that you were going through a tough time,” JJ replies.

Sighing, you lean back into the pillows.

Finding a small smile, you sardonically ask, “alright. You wanna hear my sob story?”

JJ sniggers but it isn’t mean. He shuffles closer so you can rest against him. His body was always more comfortable than his bedding anyway. That is his silent answer: yes.

“My mom got in this accident at work two years ago. They put her on Tylenol but it didn’t help, so they switched her to OxyContin. She got hooked pretty quick and started dating this dirt-bag Rick. He was her dealer and kept her supplied, cause most of the pharmacies cut her off when it was pretty obvious she was abusing,” you say.

It feels easier to get it all out in one go, like you might lose nerve if you don’t just commit.

“Rick’s a piece of shit. He doesn’t like me for whatever reason so he chips away at me. Just dumb stuff that probably doesn’t even sound that bad out of context, but when you’re in it, and someone’s picking away at you…It gets to you.”

JJ starts to stroke at your hairline. It prompts you to continue.

“Anyway, he started stealing my shit to sell, to keep him and my mom going. She couldn’t keep a job held down much so I started working to help out with bills. But then Rick started stealing my paychecks and spending my money on useless crap or drugs. I got angry and confronted them and…And my mom took his side, over me.”

You sigh and meddle with your fingers. The tears start to sting but you’re so tired of wallowing over it. You’ve wasted too much energy on her.

“I don’t think it’s a newsflash that she’s not the best mom. I mean, she left me with Big John for four years, dragged me across the country and never contacted her only son again. But it just hurt, having the person that brought you into the world pick a stranger over you, y’know?”

You eventually feel JJ nod against you. It’s not a feeling you have to describe for him; he knows more than anyone to feel pain at the hand of someone who’s supposed to love you unconditionally.

“Rick got ticked off that I tried to go against him, so he got meaner. Left my room a mess, made me do the chores, dumb petty crap like that. The worst thing was when he found my paintings though. He tore them up and ruined them. Scribbled over them. And I know they’re just drawings, and I know this is going to sound dumb,” you warn, laughing self-deprecatingly. “But they were my escape. I hated it there, but I could draw these worlds and feel like they were just for me, and I could exist there instead. And even that was taken from me.”

Images that you repressed flash back into your mind. The enchanting gardens and psychedelic landscapes mottled with black ink, indistinguishable. The way it felt like your heart might fall out of your chest and shatter on your bedroom floor when you found scraps of your paintings tossed around your room.

You clear the memories with a shallow sigh.

“Anyway…” you continue. “I got lonely. Working and all the crap at home made me miss a lot of school. I didn’t have many friends anyway. The thought of spending a whole summer there was just…I couldn’t do it. So I hit up John B and boom. Here I am.”

JJ stares at you, digesting the story. It’s certainly not as chirpy and simple as ‘I wanted a change of scenery.’ It’s scary to strip yourself down to your most vulnerable core. Different to being naked and exposed during sex: almost worse.

“And you’re gonna go back there? When the summer ends?” JJ asks.

You look up at him. You can’t pick-out one emotion on his face, there’s so many. Anger, sadness, vengeance, concern…

“Yes. No. I don’t…” you cut yourself off with a sigh, shaking your head. “I don’t know.”

“Well, I do,” JJ is quick to return. “You should stay here.”

“What? And burden John B forever?”

“Sure. Why not?”

You laugh. “I don’t think it’s that simple.”

“Why isn’t it?”

“Cause you’re forgetting that I’m a minor, JJ. And that Big John is missing, and John B is living alone illegally. If I try to transfer here and get emancipated from my mom, it’ll just open that whole can of worms and could do more damage than good. Me and John B could both end up in foster care, and I might still get sent back to Colorado either way.”

JJ wasn’t expecting such a thorough response. It was laughable that he thought you hadn’t debated moving back to Kildare. That was your original plan, until you contacted John B and found out his dad was gone. A summer escape felt like the best option, like a breath of fresh air away from your stifling homelife, but it wasn’t a long-term fix. Life was too convoluted for that.

“Why does it have to be legal? Just run away,” JJ eventually says.

You quirk a brow tiredly. “Run away? What, like I’m ten years old and didn’t get my choice on the TV?”

“I’m serious,” JJ sighs. He shifts, kneeling before you, holding your gaze. “Fuck the government and whatever. Just stay here. Nobody’s gonna rat you out.”

“What about school?”

“Pope can tutor you,” he says.

“And a place to stay?”

“John B’s room and my place. Hell, maybe Kiara’s folks have a spare room too.”

Your heart melts a little. He’s so determined.

Smiling sadly, you stroke his face lovingly. You don’t want to snuff out his last slither of hope. So, you gently tell him, “Maybe.”

“Yeah? You’ll think about it?” he hopefully asks.

You nod, heart clenching with the lie. “Yeah. I’ll think about it.”

You’re glad he kisses you then, because you can’t bare looking at him a moment longer knowing that in a month, you’ll be gone.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hurricane Agatha was a bitch. You’re amazed you managed to sleep through as much of the storm as you did.

You venture out your bedroom to find JJ leant against the doorframe of the porch. He’s already drinking a beer, early in the morning. You spot John B out in the backyard. He’s moving fallen branches out the way to recover the H.M.S. Pogue, back facing you. Breezing past JJ, you take advantage of John B’s distraction, slapping your unofficial boyfriend on the butt. He cusses, pinching your own as you head down the stairs. It’s the most you’ve been able to touch each other in over twenty-four hours without raising suspicion. You join your brother in ridding the boat of leaves and sticks. JJ wanders over.

“Whatcha thinking?” he asks.

“I’m thinkin’ that storm surge pushed all the crabs out on the marsh maze. All those drum are gonna chase the crab.” As he replies, John B clambers into the boat.

“What about the DCS? Wasn’t that today?” JJ asks.

John B had tried to keep as much of the DCS nightmare out of your line of sight, but you weren’t stupid. It certainly helped that you were sleeping with his best friend, a guy infamous for having loose lips. To say that John B getting found out would do some damage to yourself would be an understatement.

“Nah, they’re not getting on a ferry,” John B replies.

You look to JJ. He’s leant forward on the nose of the boat. His slender frame and well-kept body is frustratingly attractive when you can do nothing about it.

“Come on, think about it. It’s God telling us to fish!” John B says.

JJ shrugs. “I mean, I’m down. Just gotta take a leak first.”

John B says your name, drawing your attention back to him. “You coming?”

“Think I’m gonna stay in. Paint.”

JJ clears his throat, mumbling out ‘boring’ as he does. You mirthfully roll your eyes. Tapping the boat in farewell, you give a small wave.

“Have fun!”

There’s the crunch and snapping of twigs and leaves as JJ follows you back to the Chateau. You wander to the bathroom and retrieve your toothbrush. JJ joins you, shrugging his shorts down to pee. There’s no need to fill the domesticated sounds of living with chatter. Outside, John B continues to clear the boat. You spit into the sink and step aside so JJ can wash his hands. He brushes some of your hair off your shoulder when he’s done, leaning down to press a kiss on the spot where your neck becomes your shoulder. His hair tickles your skin and you laugh around your toothbrush.

“You sure you don’t wanna come today?” he asks, looping his arms around your waist.

You nod and spit into the sink again. His eyes meet yours through the reflection of the bathroom mirror. “Yeah, I’m sure. I’ve got some ideas I’ve wanted to get down for a while now, but I’ve been a little distracted.”

He grins at the insinuation.

“You looking forward to your birthday next week?” he asks.

“Mhm,” you hum, toothbrush back in mouth.

“You know what you want?”

“Mm-mm,” you say, shaking your head.

His grip tightens ever so slightly around you. “I’ve got a few ideas…”

One of his hands comes to hand on the middle of your upper back, coaxing you to lean forward over the bathroom sink. With that, he crudely pretends to take you from behind. Rolling your eyes, you wriggle out of his hold.

“You’re disgusting,” you say with a mouth full of toothpaste.

“You love it,” he quips. “Alright. I’ll see you later.”

“See ya.”

JJ plants another kiss to your bare shoulder, blows a raspberry, and laughs as you swat him away. There’s the open and shut of the front door, his energetic chatter with your brother, grunts and groans as they move the boat to the water, and then the sound of JJ’s whoops and hollers as they set off into the town. It’s quiet in the house without them there. You find JJ’s sweatshirt on the pull-out and shrug it on. The smell calms your soul. Taking purchase at the dining table, you retrieve your phone to find the service is out.

“Let’s see you try and call me now,” you mumble to your device, indirectly talking to your mother.

The watercolours you’ve accumulated over the past few weeks of living in Kildare could be made into a tourist guide. Whilst the gang helped at Heyward’s, you painted the shop front during a lemonade break; days spent on the H.M.S Pogue gave you drawings of the Marsh; evenings on the waterfront let you capture the beauty of the ocean. The bonfire and the hammock; JJ’s surf shack; your claimed bedroom in the Chateau…The more you painted, the more you fell in love with Kildare, and the more you wanted to stay. You refill your mason jar with fresh water and begin to work on your latest picture. It’s of JJ’s bedroom. You’ve spent enough time in there to recall it from memory. It feels like your corner of the world, safe away from prying eyes.

As the day stretches on, the group returns to the Chateau. You hear their loud chatter as they approach the house, and it seems to merge into some kind of argument when they get to the porch. Itabruptly ends after your brother announces: just let me think. You ditch your paint, hiding the artwork under less incriminating pieces, and head out to join them. JJ sits in the red armchair you’re so fond of, flicking his lighter. Kiara is on the sofa and you take the spot beside her, frowning at your brother’s face; he’s deep in thought.

“What’s going on?” you ask. You hope it isn’t the DCS.

Before anyone can reply, Pope comes racing up the stairs.

“Okay, so um, we didn’t see anything. We don’t know anything.”

You frown deepens. “What?”

He drops down onto the spot beside you, ignoring your question. “We need to have total and complete amnesia,” he tells John B.

“Actually, Pope’s right for once,” JJ says from the armchair. You all look over to him. “See, I agree with you sometimes.”

He gets to his feet, wandering towards John B. “Deny, deny, deny.”

“Guys, we can’t keep that money,” Kiara declares.

“Okay, not all of us can afford unlimited data plans, Kiara,” JJ tells her.

Now you’re annoyed. “What money? What the hell is going on!?”

“We found a boat,” John B replies.

“There was a key in the boat,” Pope continues.

“The key unlocked a motel room door,” Kie says.

“And we found a shit ton of money. And a gun,” JJ finishes.

“A gun?” you gape. He nods.

“Which he stole,” Kie points out.

Your mouth hangs open even more, if that is somehow possible. “You kept the gun, JJ?”

“It was a good gun,” he defends, throwing his arms up.

Idiot. You drop your head into your hands. “I leave you guys alone for one day…”

“I was trying to be the voice of reason!” Pope tells you, defending himself.

You shake your head. “Wait? Whose money and gun was it? Whose boat was it?”

“Scooter Grubbs,” John B replies.

“We have to pass the money on to Lana Grubbs, otherwise it’s bad karma,” Kiara says.

“Bad karma to be implicated in a felony, too,” Pope chimes in.

Felony? Yeah, you’re already pushing it staying with your half-brother, unsupervised in a state different to your mom who doesn’t exactly know where you’ve gone…

“We gotta go dark,” he finishes.

JJ paces past the three of you, saying, “if that means we get to keep the money, then I agree.”

As he comes to a stop in front of the porch entryway, John B seems to return to the room, out of his thoughts. He pats JJ’s bare shoulder. “I don’t agree.”

“What? Why?”

“Just think about it,” John B says. “This is Scotter Grubbs we’re talking about. Alright? Same dude that’s buying individual cigarettes at the Porthole. Shit, one time I saw this dude begging for change in the Save-A-Lot parking lot because he needed gas.”

All of you watch John B’s spiel. “We’re talking about a dirtbag marina rat who’s never had more than forty bucks in his pocket, and all of a sudden he’s got a Grady-White? Just sayin’.”

“Wait? What’s a Grady-White?” you ask, looking to JJ. He fills you in. Short answer: a very expensive boat.

“Well, I vote we don’t keep the money,” Pope says.

“I vote we keep it,” JJ disputes, lifting his hand. He looks to John B but he doesn’t respond. Then he looks to you, and you crumble under the gaze, shrugging.

“I don’t know,” you mumble.

“Let’s take the day to think about it,” Kiara says.

And that you do. You all venture onto the jetty to fish. You stand beside JJ as he waits for something to bite, fighting the urge to lean against him. John B continues chattering away to Pope, painting the scene of a drug smuggling industry. Him and JJ agree that if he was ‘straight smuggling’, there’s probably more contraband in the boat wreck. Somehow you all wind up in your bedroom, and Pope finally relents. He agrees to rummage the wreck for contraband but ensures to underline how stupid he thinks it is.

“Right, well, stupid things have good outcomes all the time,” JJ philosophises. You watch him fan out the money.

You can’t help but feel the saying can relate to your own secret romance. Is it a stupid, remarkably bad idea to keep fooling around? Yes. Is the temporary outcome good? Hell yes.

“All we need to do is figure out a way to get into the cargo hold of that wreck. Until then, we just lay low. Act normal.”

“Right, and how exactly do we do that?” Pope asks from your bed.

“Keggar?” Kie offers.

Everyone shares a look. You sigh. “I can’t. I gotta go to work.”

“The restaurants probably a wreck. Just skip,” JJ responsibly says.

You shake your head. “Well, I gotta help out even if it is. Lizzy’s probably gonna be there anyway.”

“You gonna want a lift back later?” John B wonders.

You look to JJ. He’s already watching you. “Nah, I’ll just sleep at Lizzy’s.”

He knows the code. Gives the vaguest, barely-there nod in confirmation. The group gets up, everyone filtering out the bedroom door into the main of the house, chattering about what drinks to get and how to round everyone up with the cell towers down. JJ lingers in your room a moment longer, keeping you there with a gentle grab of your wrist.

“What time should I come get you?”

“Ten,” you reply. “Outside the restaurant.”

“You got it,” he nods.

A chaste kiss and then the two of you let go of one another, joining the others in the main room. Your heart is hammering so loud you’re surprised nobody can hear it. It felt like you were playing with fire, kissing so close to the others. And fire is known for one thing: it burns.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

There’s a pattern seen in serial killers. After the first five or so murders, they start to slack. Cover their tracks less, take larger risks. You and JJ weren’t out killing anyone – despite his reckless ordeal at the keggar which you later heard about through the grapevine – but you weren’t being as vigilant as when it first started out. The two of you had started to get sloppy.

Now two weeks into the illicit affair, you could hardly recall the last full truth you told John B. Your alibis were harder to keep track of. Your excuses started to weaken. And your ability to keep your hands off JJ became near to impossible. Even if it was a fleeting touch, a loving stroke of his tousled hair…It was almost reflexive. One time Kiara caught you wipe something off his cheek. The moment you saw her in your peripheral, you acted as though you were messing with him, sticking a finger in his ear to get a reaction. But she saw it, and it was a stupid thing to do.

In JJ’s bedroom, there’s a collection of your things. They’ve accumulated over time the way rocks build up on a shoreline: slow and steady, until they’re everywhere. Hair ties scattered along the desk, skincare on his bedside table, spare clothes and underwear in his closet, a toothbrush in the bathroom (that he reluctantly cleaned up). The biggest tell was your art supplies. If John B were to walk in, there’d be questions. JJ wasn’t exactly known as a monogamous guy or an artist. Your brother wasn’t stupid: you reckon he could put the pieces together pretty damn quickly. But it was hard to find it in you to care, when staying with JJ on Friday nights felt like you were playing house.

You’d asked to help him shave the other day after he gave you beard burn on the inside of your thighs. That’s how you find yourself sat on the countertop, precariously balanced on the edge of the bathroom sink, with a razor in hand. He’s stood between your legs, running a finger up and down your thigh, and watching you as you work. Every now and then you clean the razor of hairs in the sink, filled with water. One of your hands cradles his jawline, the other delicately tracing the razor down his cheek, along the apex of his neck.

“Two more days and you’ve caught up with us,” JJ says, referring to your upcoming birthday.

You smile, looking up to meet his gaze. God, you could drawn in his eyes, drift away in them. “About damn time.”

“I think Kie’s made you a cake.”

“That’s sweet,” you hum.

“Your mom gonna call?”

“Probably,” you sigh.

They’d fixed the cell towers now. An influx of texts came through, namely asking if you were safe after the hurricane. You felt the need to say that you were and did so with a simple ‘thumbs up’ reaction. That was the most you’d said to her in a month and a half.

JJ distracts you from thoughts of your mom by tracing the scar lining your elbow. The same scar that helped JJ place a name to your face after so long apart. “Remember when you broke this,” he says.

“Same. Think it’s the most pain I’ve ever been in,” you snort.

“You wouldn’t stop crying. I had to kiss you on the forehead just to get you to shut up,” he sniggers.

JJ and John B had been climbing a tree and you didn’t want to be left behind. You also wanted to impress a certain blonde-haired boy. But you lost your footing and fell, landing at a wonky angle. It was embarrassing, and painful, and embarrassing a couple more times.

“Yeah, I remember that too,” you say, smiling. “I had the biggest crush on you. I thought I was going to faint when you did it.”

“You had a crush on me?” JJ asks.

You pull away enough for him to see your face. It perfectly says really, man? He laughs. You resume your previous position.

“You were always cute.”

“Yeah right. You always saw me as John B’s little sister.”

“Well, yeah. But you were sweet. You used to bring me Hershey kisses.”

Your face feels burning hot. God, you were so subtle back then. “Stop talking or I’m gonna nick you by accident.”

He obliges, his shit-eating grin slowly fading as you work. The satisfying scrape of the razor ridding JJ of facial hair comes to an end with one final swipe. You clean the razor, wipe him clean with a wet flannel, and plant a kiss to his lips.

“Done.”

He steps around you and leans forward, inspecting himself in the mirror. He strokes at his skin, sucking his teeth with an impressed expression.

“Pretty good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You finally gonna quit complaining about my beard making you itchy?”

“Look! It’s left a mark!” you defend, opening your legs and gesturing to the inside of your thighs.

JJ grins. He slides his large palms along the inside of your quads, fingers spanning out across the skin.

“Wanna give the new shave a test run?” he asks.

He sinks to his knees. Your smile grows, heart trilling with erotic excitement. Your fingers loop through his golden hair, nails scratching at his scalp. He places two kisses to your thigh, working towards your core. Fingers hooking onto the waistband of your shorts, you hoist yourself up so he can begin to wiggle them down your legs.

The sound of the front door slamming shut has you both freezing.

Luke Maybank clears his throat, walking into the house. You pull your shorts back up, heart loud in your throat. JJ gets to his feet and pulls the plug from the sink, draining it of water. Then you both stare wide eyed into the living room of the house. Luke collapses on the couch with a sigh, beer bottle in hand. JJ helps you down from the counter, quietly placing you on the floor. You’re not sure what to do. What the best approach is. What kind of mood Luke is in. Following JJ’s lead seems the best way to go. He looks away from the room to you. His gaze is steely and determined.

“Go into my room and go out the window,” JJ instructs in a whisper.

You nod and don’t argue. Slowly, you slink down the corridor and slide into JJ’s bedroom. You push the door closed gently, hoping for it click into the frame without drawing attention.

“JJ? That you?” Luke calls.

Cringing, you shut your eyes, hang your head, and press it against the door. You hear JJ pass the bedroom.

“Y-yeah, I’m here.”

“Thought you were at Routledge’s house,” Luke says. His voice is gruff and reminds you of sandpaper.

“Nah. Not tonight,” JJ replies. He doesn’t sound like his usual self: carefree and jovial. No, he sounds guarded. On edge, like he’s working with a wild animal, unsure of how it may react. “Thought you were out tonight too.”

“What? I can’t come back to my own home whenever I want?”

“No, course. Course you can,” JJ says.

You don’t want to leave him alone with his dad, but you know staying is risky. If Luke finds you whilst he’s in a rage, it might make things worse. He might lash out at JJ, or worse, he might turn on you. So, you slink across the room and step onto JJ’s desk, using his chair as a boost. The window slides open with little effort and you hook a leg over. The other joins it and you dangle a moment, looking down at where to land. It’s a drop about the same height as you. Bracing yourself, you bend your knees as you hit the grass. Another glance is spared to the house. It’s quiet: no shouting or fighting. Sighing, feeling as if you’re betraying JJ somehow, you begin to walk home.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

As you round the corridor into the living room, your heart sinks in disappointment when you don’t find JJ asleep out on the pull-out. Instead, the bed is half-made and abandoned. You haven’t seen JJ since you snuck out of his house last Friday. Sighing, you turn into the kitchen and open the fridge. A few gulps of orange juice out of the carton count as your breakfast. Looking to the calendar stuck to the fridge with a magnet, you point on today’s date.

“Happy birthday, me,” you mumble.

A pair of arms grab you from behind, picking you up off the floor. You yelp out in surprise.

“Happy birthday!” John B cheers.

Laughing, you let him shake you before returning you safely to the floor. Turning around, you find John B digging about in his short pockets. He retrieves a small, wrapped package and hands it to you.

“Happy sweet seventeenth.”

“The big one-seven,” you reply, thanking him.

You uncover a small pendant necklace made of sterling silver. It’s shaped like the North Carolina state. Lips moving, you give a small breath of admiration, stunned at its simple beauty.

“You like it?” he checks. You get the sense that he doesn’t buy a lot of jewellery. Looking up, you feel tears sting at your eyes. Throwing your arms around your older brother’s shoulders, you hug him.

“I love it. Thank you.”

“Course. I figured that way you always have a piece of Kildare with you,” John B says.

It’s a bittersweet sentiment. There’s only a month left of your stay in Kildare. Colorado and your life there looms like a storm cloud in the future, warning of an unavoidable downpour.

You pass the necklace to him. “Will you?”

As you turn, pulling your hair up and out the way, John B loops the necklace around your neck. When its secured, you drop your hair and turn back to him.

“How do I look?”

“Like a Pogue,” he grins.

You squeeze him in another hug before letting him grab some breakfast.

JJ doesn’t answer his phone. He doesn’t reply to texts or pick up calls. It’s frustrating as hell. You keep checking your phone as you shower, as you dress and as you do your make-up. As you finish putting on mascara, it starts to buzz. You don’t even check the caller ID: you just answer.

“Hello?”

“Oh, so you are alive.”

Mom.

You can’t speak. Can’t find enough air in your lungs to formulate words. Even if you could, nothing comes to mind. Nothing.

“Hello? Are you there?”

“I’m here,” you manage out.

“Well I guess I should say happy birthday.”

It’s incredible how such a sweet statement sounds bitter on her tongue.

“Thanks,” you reply.

“So, I’m guessing you must have been pretty busy this summer. That’s the only way to explain the radio silence since you left,” she says.

“Mom, I—”

“I’m talking now. Not you.”

You swallow. Thank God you skipped breakfast: you feel sick to your stomach.

“When are you coming back home?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” She laughs. “Well, you have to come back sometime.”

“Says who?” you snap.

There’s a tense silence. “Says me.”

You don’t speak. Suddenly, JJ’s stupid idea of running away seems incredible smart.

“I’m staying in Kildare for at least another month,” you tell her.

“At least?”

“Yes. At least.”

“And then what? You’re going to become a nomad? Hitchhike around the country?”

“And then…Then it’s none of your concern. It won’t be your problem; it’ll be mine.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” your mom says, tone sharp like broken glass. “You’re coming home the minute the summer ends.”

Your patience twists into something dark and unfamiliar. Rage clouds your vision and your mind.

“Home? Is that what you call that place? Because Colorado hasn’t felt like home to me ever, mom. Ever.”

“You’re making a big thing—”

“No, I’m not,” you snap. Getting to your feet, you begin to pace the room. “You don’t even want me there! You just want my money. You don’t want me. You don’t even pay attention to me!”

“I’m busy trying to keep us alive,” you mom argues.

“Alive? Is that what you call it?” You can’t help but laugh. “If that’s ‘alive’, mom, then I don’t want it.”

“Just…Look, we’re just saying things, alright? You can come home, and we can talk, and we can work things out,” she says, sounding more human.

But you can’t believe it. Can’t trust it. It’s like a glass that’s been broken over and over again. You can glue it together, keeping most of the pieces in place, but it’ll never be as beautiful as it was before. Your mom is forever tainted in your mind. The damage is already done.

Pressing your eyes shut, you take a deep breath. “I’m staying here, mom.”

She begins to say your name, but you cut her off.

“I’m staying in Kildare. I’m staying here with John B, and JJ, and Kiara. They’re taking care of me. I’m okay. I’m eating, and I’m earning money, and I’m safe. But I can’t come back to Colorado. Not until Rick leaves…”

You feel your lower lip tremble.

“And not until you get clean.”

She’s silent for a minute. A long, long minute.

“And what if I don’t want you to stay in Kildare?” she asks. Her voice is quiet when she says it, like she’s powerless. And maybe she is.

It doesn’t feel good when you reply, “then I’ll report you and Rick to the cops, for child neglect and drug dealing.”

When people play chess, there’s a certain moment that the game is won. Check and mate. It’s a strategy game. You feel the moment your mom realises she’s lost. Your final piece takes position, and she’s rendered useless. She can either surrender - and let you stay in Kildare without complaint or contest - or force your hand to knock her off the board with a quick phone call to the police.

“And you’re safe?” she whispers.

Your heart splinters. It wasn’t her fault she got addicted, but it was her fault that she wasn’t there for you when you needed her most. They say time heals all wounds and you pray that to be true.

“I’m safe,” you assure her, voice wavering.

She doesn’t speak for a few seconds.

Then, quietly, she says, “well, happy birthday. Just…don’t ignore me like that again. I need to know that you’re okay.”

You nod. The tears start to fall and you press your lips together. “Okay, mom. I’ll text you. I promise.”

Through a shaky breath, you feel the three words form on your tongue. Three words that you haven’t said to her since you left North Carolina. But before they can pass through your lips, she clicks off the line without another word. You let out a pained sob. It’s so strange to get everything you ever wanted, and nothing that you wanted at all.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

Your birthday passes by in a blink.

After the phone call with your mom, you sobbed for an hour. John B came knocking and held you through it, and when you asked if it was okay for you stay for the foreseeable future, he seemed more than ecstatic. All we have is each other, now. There’s something strangely tethering about trauma.

Pope and Kiara came around in the early afternoon. She’d made the most incredible birthday cake. Sage green buttercream frosting with edible flowers arranged around the rim. In the centre it had 17 written in white icing. They sang happy birthday and lit the candles, and as you blew them out, you wished for JJ to show up. Apparently, nobody had heard from him lately. It filled your stomach with led.

After asking what you wanted to do, the four of you relaxed in the backyard. It was an excuse to drink and listen to music. Pope discussed the latest book he read with you as you rocked in the hammock. John B began to talk about the Royal Merchant. He’d seemingly become more and more enthralled in the shipwreck. Whilst you’d been at work, covering shifts for people affected by the hurricane, they’d been pursuing the whole Grady-white shipwreck. Turns out, it was all connected to the royal merchant and Big John. You weren’t sure how you felt about that revelation. The group also seemed to be dubious. So, when Kie fell into a discussion about the treasure hunt with your older brother, you happily tuned it out.

Around seven, Kie and Pope left. John B seemed pretty exhausted so he said he was going to get an early night. You agreed and trudged into your room, but sleep wouldn’t come no matter how drained you felt. As per routine, at ten, you slip into your crocs and head into the living room, sights set on the porch. You stop short. The porch light filters into the main bulk of the room.

“JJ,” you whisper to yourself.

Walking out, opening the door, you find him on the couch. For once, he’s facing the doorway. He looks up from his lighter that he’s been messing with and meets your gaze. At the sight of his lips twitching up at the corners, you break into a smile and rush over. Practically wrestle him into a hug. He laughs, wrapping his arms around you. The way he holds you feel holy. Two days apart and you felt like you were having withdrawal.

“Happy to see me?”

“Where the hell have you been?” you ask into his t-shirt.

He pulls away. You sit on his lap, looking down at him, surveying his face for injuries.

“I got roped into some shit with my dad,” he says.

“He didn’t…”

You can’t bring yourself to ask, but your hand outstretching, tracing his features for some sign of pain, finishes the question.

He shakes his head, taking your hand from his face to intertwine it with his own.

“No, no. Just had to keep him busy, really. Helped out at the harbour and shit. Dropped my phone in the water like a dumbass.”

Ah. That explains the radio silence.

JJ smiles up at you. “Anyway. I’ve back now.”

“Good,” you say. “I missed you.”

“Missed you too,” he mumbles.

One of his hands reaches up to play with a strand of your hair. He lets it go, it falls into the mess atop of your head, and he traces his fingers down your body before resting at your hip. All the while, JJ stares at you, taking you in like he’s taking in an eclipse. Like you’re something that deserves to be admired.

“Happy birthday,” he says.

You smile, bright like a supernova. “Thanks.”

“Good day?”

You’re not sure how to tell him about the greatest gift of all: your mom letting you stay in Kildare. So, you just nod dumbly. JJ picks the pendent of your necklace off your skin, inspecting it.

“Who got you this? It’s pretty.”

“My mistress,” you joke.

He rolls his eyes.

“John B.”

“It’s pretty,” he repeats, letting it sit against your skin once more. He lets his touch linger against your sternum. God, you missed him. “Kie’s cake good?”

“Mhm. There’s some left in the kitchen. I’ll get us some,” you say.

You move to climb off him to retrieve a couple of slices but JJ grabs at your hips, keeping you in place and capturing your attention once more.

“Gotta give you your gift first.”

JJ leans down to retrieve your present from under the sofa where he’s stashed it. He hands it to you, a brown paper parcel finished with garden string, with a foreign nervous smile on his face.

“I hope they’re the right ones.”

Confused by what he might mean, you begin to open it. The brown paper crinkles in your hands as you unwrap your present. A small, elated gasp falls out your mouth as you lay your eyes on a set of Winsor and Newton watercolour paints. You trace a finger over the silver tin as if to prove you aren’t hallucinating.

“You like ‘em?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

Winsor and Newton paints. The worlds that you can illustrate flash through your mind, igniting your imagination in ways that you haven’t experienced for years. You feel a quivering smile, overwhelmed with emotion for the paints and for the boy who bestowed them upon you, and look up. He’s smiling, watching you, and you lean forward to wrap your arms around his neck.

“I love them. Thank you, JJ.”

His arms wrap safely around your middle, pulling you against him in the embrace. You move your lips to his, sighing as you finally reconnect through the kiss. When you break apart, only a hair’s width between your mouth and his, you feel those same words from earlier today fly up and through you.

“I love you.”

You say it quiet and private, like a prayer.

His eyes falter to meet your own. There’s a nervous breath as he takes in your declaration.

“I love you too,” he breathes.

As you kiss, you feel your heart melt into liquid gold. For once in your life, things feel as though they’re falling into place. The rough brush of JJ’s tongue prying into your mouth has you tilting your head. You let him imbibe you. You treasure the way his rough hands, worn from work on the harbour, slip under your t-shirt. His touch is cold against your burning skin.

“What the fuck.”

Fool’s gold.

You startle at the interruption, head spinning to find John B stood on the porch. He’s gaping at you and JJ like he may have just seen a ghost. Disbelief and horror shadow his face.

“John…” you choke.

His eyes flit from you, from your lips, to JJ. To his hand still under your shirt. To his hand planted securely on your hip. To how you’re sat in his lap. To your own tethered into his hair. To your own wrapped lovingly around his neck. It’s as incriminating as finding a murderer holding the knife above a dead body. No excuse, no justification. Nothing. No alibi can save you now. It’s a clean and shut case.

“What the fuck is going on?” John B mutters. His thoughts seem to be catching up with him second by second. His chest begins to rise, anger flaring his veins, and his expression hardens. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Look, man, just—”

But your brother strides over and practically rips JJ out from under you. You hear yourself scream out as he shoves JJ onto the porch floor, landing a hard punch into his jaw. JJ takes the hits, doesn’t even try to fight back, only fumbles to try and push John B off him. You start to scream like a hysteric. Shriek for him to stop. Beg for him to. You grapple at John B’s shirt, trying to pull him off your boyfriend, as he lands hit after hit. The sound is sickening, of flesh hitting flesh. You feel tears fall down your cheeks in panic as he refuses to let up.

“Get off him, John!” you screech.

Finally, you pull him off. The two of you tumble to the floor.

JJ turns onto his side, coughing and spitting out blood, groaning in pain. He lifts a finger to dap at his lip, wincing as he draws it back to find it red. You go to help him, to check that there’s no lasting damage, but John B holds you back. He moves towards his best friend once more but you grab at his shirt.

“John, please don’t,” you blubber, trying to keep him away.

He swallows thickly and closes his eyes, taking a slow, measured breath to try and calm his rage. Then, he turns his head to you. The betrayal in his eyes makes you sob.

The sound of JJ’s groans has the attention back on him. He’s struggling to his knees, a hand coming to cradle his jaw.

“Shit, JB. You can throw a hell of a punch,” JJ mutters. He spits out more blood. It makes you cringe.

JJ gets to his feet. John B follows. You can’t find strength to get off the floor. Your eyes are transfixed for a while on the pool of blood where JJ laid.

“You promised me,” John B seethes.

You look up and finally muster the courage to stand. You watch as JJ looks to you. Can see how he wants to grab you and console you just like he used to when you were a child. Just like he did when you fell out of the tree. But his better judgement makes him decide against it.

“It’s not what it looks like, alright?” JJ tries, voice steady.

“Not what it looks like? What? You groping my little sister isn’t what it looks like?” John B barks.

JJ scowls. “I wasn’t groping her. And she’s hardly your little sister. You’re less than a year older than her!”

That pisses your brother off more. He takes a step towards JJ but you reach an arm out, stopping him.

“She’s vulnerable, JJ.”

You frown. Offense stings in your heart. Does he really think you so defenceless? So incapable of judging others for yourself?

“She’s seventeen, John B. She can make her own choices without you making them for her,” JJ argues. “She knows what’s in her best interest.”

“Oh? And you’re her best interest?” John B scoffs.

JJ’s gaze darkens. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

No. No, this is not helping. It’s only making matters worse.

“You know what I mean! You fuck a new girl every other week! You can’t keep your fingers off other people’s shit, you lie like you’ve been doing it since day one—”

“John-”

Your quiet plea goes ignored. John B takes another challenging step towards JJ. You can’t hold him back. He’s stronger than you. They both are.

“You’re gonna end up in a cell just like your dad and leave my sister as collateral when you get bored of sleeping with a girl whose been in love with you since she was a kid.”

JJ’s fist hits John B square on the cheek. John B hurls his own punch and they end up in some messy wrestle. They fall onto the coffee table and fumble out weak throws. Fear for what may happen to either of them makes you act with stupidity. You dart forward and try to pry them off one another. Somewhere in the chaos, a stray punch hits you in the nose. Pain blinds you. You yelp and fall backwards against the couch, hands flying up to your face. They stop. JJ utters your name.

When you pull your shaking hand away, you find it soaked with blood. Your chest heaves with panic as the pain sets in. JJ shoves John B off and comes to your side.

“S’alright, s’alright,” he soothes.

You’re not like JJ. You don’t take hits like it’s your day job. You’ve never been punched in your life. The last major injury you sustained was your broken arm, back when you were thirteen. Sobbing in pain, you feel yourself panic at the sight of flowing blood.

“S’okay. Lean forward, alright? You gotta lean forward,” JJ instructs.

He shifts you so you’re sitting on the floor, back against the sofa. You let him guide your fingers to the bridge of your nose and pinch at the soft skin. There’s the distant sound of John B rushing into the house. You don’t see it, though. Your eyes are pressed shut to not look at the blood.

“You feel okay?”

“I feel sick,” you mumble. And not just from the nosebleed.

“S’alright. It’ll stop soon,” JJ reassures.

He strokes your back lovingly, dragging your hair off your face as your head bows forward. You choke on the metallic taste that trickles into your other senses. God, everything is a mess.

“Here, here,” John B mutters.

You crack open your eyes to see him drop to his knees beside you. He hands JJ a towel. JJ lifts it to your nose, wiping some of the blood off your skin before holding it steady below your nostrils. It soaks with blood.

“Shit, should she be bleeding that much?” John B asks JJ.

“She’ll be fine,” JJ snaps. He probably doesn’t want to freak you out more. “It’s normal.”

And, eventually, after two towels are soaked, the blood flow slows to a stop.

“I think it’s stopped,” JJ mumbles.

You let him remove the towel. It feels risky to sniff. The smell and taste of blood is consuming and makes you feel nauseous. Tentatively, you try lifting your head. JJ and John B are staring at you. They’re nothing less than concerned.

“How do I look?” you croak.

JJ tries to fight it but fails. He sniggers, then John B does, and you find your own smile. Then the three of you are laughing like you’re drunk.

“That bad, huh?”

“Never looked hotter,” JJ lies through his laughter.

“Yeah…this isn’t your best look,” John B comments.

When the humour passes, you shake your head and look to John B. Like a storm at sea, his anger seems to have passed, not a sign that it was ever there on his face. JJ’s calmed down too. You know they’ll have to talk it out, the things John B said to him, but words said in fury are usually far from true. Cheap shots to try and hit JJ where it hurts. Brothers fight.

“I’m sorry we kept it a secret from you,” you say to John B.

His eyes slip shut like your apology pains him. Like you’re applying balm to his fresh wounds. Sighing, he opens them to ask, “how long has it been happening?”

You and JJ share a look. He clears his throat before answering. “About a month. Maybe a bit longer.”

“It started the third week after I came to Kildare,” you clarify.

John B exhales with disbelief. “No. No, that can’t be true.” Before you try and explain further, he’s looking to JJ. “You can’t keep your mouth shut for a whole fucking month.”

JJ cracks up. A smile creeps onto your face too. “I think it’s a new record, man, honestly.”

“Yeah, congrats,” John B grunts, rolling his eyes.

“We just didn’t want to tell you cause we know things have been weird since your dad went missing, and you’ve sort of been hooked on this Royal Merchant thing,” you say to your brother.

“And cause you sort of told me to specifically not date your sister,” JJ meekly tags on.

John B sends him a damning look. JJ cringes. “I mean, I’ve never been good at doing as I’m told so this is kinda on you. Just partly.”

“Careful,” John B warns.

You grab for your brother’s hand. A stray stream of blood slips from your nose and JJ lifts the towel to wipe it away. John B meets your gaze.

“We’re not just fooling around,” you say. As his brows knit together, you spare a glance to JJ as if trying to muster up courage. “I love him.”

John’s mouth falls open. You might as well have just told him you’re pregnant. He looks to JJ as if needing some clarification, and he just nods and shrugs, his expression something close to yep, it’s true.

“I just wish you guys told me,” John B eventually tells you. Then, laughing, he adds, “and how long were you even planning on keeping this up?”

“Well...We hadn’t really got that far,” JJ fumbles, scratching the back of his neck.

You all share a laugh. John B nods and looks between the two of you. Like a pill he must swallow, he accepts his fate. You’re not proud, but you wouldn’t change a thing. Taking the risk with JJ was the best choice you ever made.

“I don’t love it,” John B says. Then, with a pained sigh, he adds, “but I’ll get used to it.”

You and JJ immediately lock eyes; smiles of relief and elation sparking to life.

“But you hurt her, and I’ll lay you out,” John B warns JJ, in a stereotypical brotherly fashion.

JJ nods. He seems to know now that John B will uphold that promise to the highest degree. “Scout’s honour,” he swears, crossing his heart and holding up three fingers.

John B looks to your once more and offers you a hand. He helps you off the floor.

“Jeez. What a birthday. You found out you get to stay in Kildare and have a nosebleed all in one day.”

“Wait, what?” JJ barks.

Your head darts around to the blonde-haired boy.

“You’re staying in Kildare?”

Realisation dawns upon you. In the pandemonium, you’d forgotten to tell him. A sheepish smile settles on your face. “Oh yeah, um…I have some news.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*

Your bedroom door swings open as Kiara sings out, “morning lovebirds!”

JJ groans from beside you at the wake-up call. You crack open your eyes through the streaming sunlight and look to the doorway. John B’s head pops into view.

“Get up! We’re recovering a shipwreck!” he adds.

Kie grabs a sock from the floor and tosses it at your boyfriend.

“Get up,” she repeats.

The door slams shut and you chuckle, rolling onto your back and staring at the ceiling. JJ stirs from beside you. You feel his finger reach out to prod your cheek.

“Mornin’,” he rasps.

You look over to him, smiling sleepily. “Morning.”

“Sleep okay?”

“Like a Goddamn baby,” you grin.

He smiles at that. Sighing and groaning and making all kinds of fuss, JJ stretches in bed.

The two of you gradually emerge from your room. It’s hard to get dressed when your boyfriend keeps grabbing at your hips, sucking hickeys into your neck, stealing your bikini bottoms. There’s a persistent knocking at the door every five minutes from each of the Pogues, telling you to quit macking and get ready.

You wolf down breakfast at the dinner table, mulling over your latest painting. It’s of JJ’s back, arguably your favourite feature of him, when he used to sleep on the pull-out sofa. The room is bathed in moonbeams, bed made up of messy plaid blankets and mismatching pillows. The new paints make everything feel so lifelike and vivid. You’re debating adding faint pink lines to represent scratch marks on his back….

“Come on! We gotta go!” John B declares, drumming on your head as he passes you to the front door.

JJ finishes your Poptart as you text your mom a quick update for the day, and then the two of you join the Pogues in the Twinkie. He hooks an arm over your shoulder, holding you against him as you sit in the back with Pope. They fall into a debate about the scientific benefits of weed (JJ is, no surprise, in favour) whilst Kie and John B discuss tactics for finding the Royal Merchant. As you rest against your boyfriend, you smile and close your eyes. You finally found your home. You found it in Kildare.

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lalal-99 · 2 days

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of being true {l.f.} | track 5

Lee Felix x Jung Wooyoung | trope: strangers to lovers | word count: 9.2k

Synopsis: The one that's about Felix and other pretty people.

Check Chapter Overview for complete list of warnings

Note: This is an interim chapter. You don't need to read this chapter to understand the rest of the main plot. But I advise you do, because it's just so beautiful. Truly one of the best things I have ever written. (Reposting, cause the first upload tanked...)

Tumblr works on a reblog system. Please consider reblogging this post so that it can reach more people. Thank you :)

Please don't flag as mature or repost this story - Thank You

Felix learned he was gay at the tender age of 7. That was if he were completely honest with himself.

It happened on a beautiful Sunday morning in his suburban Sydney home. He had just prepped himself a bowl of fruit loops, clad in his pyjamas with his favourite blanket in hand. That’s how he made himself a home on the sofa, turning on the TV with the volume on low so his parents wouldn’t wake. Switching through channels his parents had forbidden him to watch, he finally landed on Nickelodeon. And that’s when he saw him.

Danny.

Phantom, if that wasn’t clear already.

All the kids at school had talked about the show for weeks, raving over who they thought Danny would end up with. Sam—the sarcastic best friend—or Jazz—the cutesy love interest. Pretty, beautiful and whitty were some of the words his friends referred to them as. Felix needed to see for himself and make up his mind. If not to admire their animated beauty, at least to determine who he preferred.

Needless to say, all intentions went out the window once he saw the underdog protagonist. His hair as black as the night and his eyes as blue as the ocean minutes away from Felix’s house. And that was only the human form of one Danny Fenton. No one could have prepared Felix for the incredible looks of his super-hero alter-ego. His icy grey hair and green eyes were truly something else, and Felix was soon captivated by the fictitious character. A fabricated figure drawn with pencil, but even so the hero of his childhood.

In hindsight, Felix should have known it right then and there.

While his friends argued the show’s female characters, he fantasised protecting Amity Park alongside his idol. Telling him his deepest secrets and hugging him in glee at the end of each episode.

As he was only a child, Felix didn’t think to investigate the intensity of his affection further. He pushed it to the back of his mind. Argued that he didn’t watch the show for its romantic aspects whenever someone asked him about his prefered love interest.

Despite ignoring the nagging thought for all his childhood—oblivious to a deeper meaning behind it—it caught up with him at some point. And that point came in the form of one Cassidy Miller.

Cassidy was one of Felix’s classmates in Year 8. Upon laying eyes on him on the first day of the year, she made it her main plot point to become his girlfriend. During lunch that first day, she chose the seat next to him in the cafeteria, sharing some of her homemade snacks. As a teenage boy amid a growth spurt, he accepted with not another word of persuasion. He didn’t even consider it to be an advance of sorts. Even when his friend high-fived him after the fact, Felix understood it as an act of kindness. Cassidy was trying to make some friends after moving to town weeks prior. Nothing out of the ordinary.

It took him about three weeks of shared snacks every day and a kiss on his cheek to recognise that, yes. A girl had a crush on him. And everything would have been fine. Hadn’t it been for the slight complication that he didn’t feel the same about her. Cassidy was sweet. He would even agree that she was cute with her bunny nose and blonde locks. Conventionally attractive features for a 14-year-old girl.

Before he could break the truth to her, though, she had already introduced him to her parents. Quick, but Felix didn’t get the chance to intervene. He didn’t even know she wanted to introduce them when she asked him to follow her to the parking lot. Let alone introduce him as her boyfriend, much to her father’s dismay.

So, at the fragile age of 14, Felix found himself in a heterosexual relationship with a girl he barely knew but didn’t have the heart to break up with. As though being an unknowing closeted teenager wasn’t enough already.

That relationship, as innocent as it was, lasted 6 months. At most, it consisted of hand-holding and handwritten notes passed during class. Still, it lasted long for a first relationship Felix had no intention of having in the first place.

When Cassidy revealed that her dad had been relocated for the umpteenth time, Felix was even a little sad. She left after only 7 months, thus ending the relationship as it had begun—completely out of his control.

One should think: A closeted gay teen who just came out of a heterosexual relationship he hadn’t intended having? Definitely won’t do that again in the near future.

And that thought was fair. But wrong.

It took around 2 months after Cassidy left when Emily Wilson came into Felix’s life.

Emily was different from Cassidy in many ways. She was one year Felix’s senior, held back a year for grade-related reasons. She had black hair and a sidecut. Eyelids always painted in a thick layer of dark eyeliner which made her look at least two years older than she was. She had a nose ring her parents hadn’t allowed her to get and wore combat boots like part of a religion. Every word leaving her lips was drenched in sarcasm, which drew Felix to her right from the beginning.

It didn’t take Felix more than a few weeks to accept it. If he were to ever have a relationship with another girl, it would be a girl like Emily.

Fortunately for him, she and Cassidy had one thing in common. They were both pretty much obsessed with him from the moment they first laid eyes on him.

Whatever was drawing them to him, Felix decided that what anyone in his position would do, was make a move on Emily. Everyone in his class was obsessing over who was with whom. All his friends went from relationship to relationship in weekly rhythms. So, getting a girlfriend himself was the logical thing to do.

The 1.5 years he spent with Emily were the most fun but excruciating months of his life. Being with someone that long was hard, as much as he loved getting to know every part of her life.

He liked Emily’s parents, and they thought he had a positive influence on their daughter. But they were uber controlling and burst into her room every few minutes to check on them and what they were doing.

He adored Emily’s love for music and art. Every picture she drew for him and every mixtape she made proudly displayed in his room. But, she didn’t allow any opinions on the topics that didn’t correlate with her own. Felix’s love for Pop music? A slap in the face of a proud anti-capitalist. Felix’s one-year-anniversary plans to visit a special exhibition in the museum? Another penny in the pocket of the rich, making them even wealthier.

He fell apart at the touch of Emily’s hands and mouth. Losing his virginity to her left him breathless and in a sweaty sheen for hours. But, as much as he didn’t mind sleeping with her, he couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling. She always made the first move. And he was not only lying to himself but to her.

Their relationship was a constant back-and-forth. Liking her while not liking her enough to want a serious future. No matter how hard Felix tried, keeping up the facade became more agonising with every I love you. Eventually, Emily could tell something was eating at her boyfriend. And after 18 unforgettable months together, she finally had enough. She left him with usual harsh words and exhausted tears of relief in his eyes.

Even then, as the doubt and exhaustion finally reached the front lobe of his brain, it took him a couple more years and 3 more relationships to come to terms with reality.

Felix was gay and wouldn’t continue lying to everyone around him.

Well, except for his parents, who, despite living in a modern country, had different values. They weren’t particularly homophobic, though they approached the movement with ignorance. That’s other people. That would never happen to us.

Thankfully, by the time Felix realised he would never be content in a heterosexual relationship, he had already set his eyes on further education abroad. And once he finished High School, he was already packed and ready to head overseas to live as his true self.

Never in a million years had Felix expected to live that true self so early in this new chapter of his life. He had barely set foot onto campus when he bumped into a guy on his way out of the physiology building. Felix almost lost balance but the man grabbed his biceps, delicate fingers steadying him against himself. That’s when he met the guy’s gaze. Beautiful mahogany, surrounded by a sheen of gold eyeliner. Which only made them sparkle even further than Felix was sure they already did. His hair died in layers of blonde and black, ears adorned by so many earrings he couldn’t have counted them. And that cheeky smile on his lips made Felix want to taste him right then and there.

Instead, Felix pulled away, smoothing his t-shirt out as he hugged his bag closer to himself. It gave his hands something to do while hiding the semi he sported. From a short-lived, innocent physical contact, but nonetheless.

“You good?” the guy asked, and Felix nodded, eyes wide as though he had seen a ghost. The man swiped his thumb over his plumb bottom lip with a smirk and a wink as he brushed past Felix. “Next time, keep your eyes on what’s important. Alright, Pretty?”

Pretty. Felix subconsciously nodded at the words as the man rounded the corner with another look back. He remained still for approximately minutes before he shook himself to snap out of it.

And that could have been it. A short, embarrassing moment like he had had so many times before. But that wasn’t Felix’s luck.

God screamed You should see your face at Felix when he entered his Psychology 101 class days later. The same boy stood by the entrance, talking to another guy who looked a little too good in his pink hair.

Felix skimmed past him, feeling the man’s gaze trained on his back as he wordlessly sat between two girls. Anything so he wasn’t exposed to the man’s enticing presence. Making his heart race like that of an untouched virgin.

That’s when Felix diagnosed: He might not be as ready to live his true self as he had thought.

The decision to take his time exploring his identity was easily made. Yet, the pledge lasted only 4 days.

“Hi, man! How’s it going?”

The first thing Felix noticed about the man in front of Jisung was the age difference.

Jisung might have been Felix’s age phsyically, but he usually carried himself with a heightened sense of maturity. His long-term girlfriend definitely was the cause for that, so much the countless dirty jokes had told Felix.

Jackson, on the contrary, had a sense of wiseness to him. He must have made many a experience that still awaited Felix and Jisung. What exactly made Felix feel like that, he couldn’t pinpoint. Although it likely wasn’t the baggy clothing or the Gucci snapback. Jackson must have come from money, was all Felix took away from them. And if it weren’t for Jackson’s clothing, the golden earrings and chain around his neck would have said as much.

“I’m alright. The workload already has me in a chokehold. But I’ll manage,” Jisung joked with his old friend before turning to Felix. “Jackson, this is my roommate, Felix. Felix, Jackson.”

“Nice to meet you!” Jackson greeted him as he pulled him into a bro-hug. The first of many, Felix was sure.

“Likewise.”

“So, already swimming in the workload? If it’s too much already, I wouldn’t advise picking Medicine as a Major. I was studying until the second the first guests arrived. And I will continue the moment the house is empty.”

A future doctor? Jackson? Definitely not what Felix had expected, but he didn’t know the guy. All he could go from was the first impression. He knew better than to judge from that alone.

“I’ll keep that in mind. You should tell Y/N before she suggests I also become a doctor.”

“She’s still not giving up on you picking a Major, huh?”

“I swear it’s everything she talked about the past two months.” Felix looked around the place, trying his hardest to ignore the words coming from his friend. It wasn’t like he knew everything about their relationship, nor was he picking sides in this debate. But hearing Jisung talk behind her back like that? It filled him with slight unease. “I love her, but it’s annoying.”

“You probably don’t want to hear it, but she has a point.”

Again, not what Felix had expected from Jackson. Taking Y/N’s side like that.

“There’s nothing wrong with taking a semester to figure things out, but you’ll have to pick one eventually.” Jackson could tell from Jisung’s expression that this wasn’t what he wanted to hear. “But...” Jackson opened three beer bottles from the sink before handing two of them over to Felix and Jisung. “That’s a conversation for tomorrow. Or next week. Right now, we party.”

“Hell, yeah!” Jisung agreed with a cheer before toasting the other two and downing half his bottle.

Felix took a sip, face scrunching at the bitter aftertaste of the liquid. He had never quite grown accustomed to the flavour of beer, his tastebuds preferring vodka or rum. Anything that mixed well with soft drinks.

While Jackson and Jisung chatted away like two estranged friends (which, for as much as Felix had understood, they were), Felix’s gaze wandered through the doorway into the living room. The house gradually filled with young students—some yet sober, some already intoxicated. Felix started appreciating Jisung by his side, so he didn’t have to approach this situation alone. Even if Jisung, right now, was ignoring his presence for his old friend.

Distracted by the loud music, Felix took a few steps out of the kitchen, when suddenly, he got knocked off his feet. Or at least almost.

He would have planted his face straight into the tiled flooring hadn’t it been for a set of delicate fingers coming to his biceps and steadying him. And if it weren’t already a complete recap of his encounter on the first day, Felix met the same mahogany eyes yet again.

Sweet, sweet irony.

The guy recognised him soon enough, a smirk appearing on his beautiful face. How he could be so enticing and cheeky without saying a word was beyond Felix.

“We have to stop meeting like this.”

Invisible strings drew Felix’s eyes to the man’s face, hanging on the way his lips moved whenever he spoke. He was in total awe of how someone could sound so sweet while having the fucking confidence of a... Well, if Felix had to name it, he would have called it fuckboy. Although, he didn’t want to judge a book by its cover. Even if this particular book was extremely easy on the eyes.

“You good?”

“Huh?”

“I asked you if you were alright.”

“Oh, of course. Yes, I’m good.”

“Good.” And there it was again. That stupid smirk made Felix feel things he didn’t know he had the mental capacity to feel. Emotions he had prayed to feel for Cassidy, Emily, Tina and all the others, he instead felt for some stranger the second he laid eyes on him. Like a complete loser. “You’re Felix, right?”

Eyebrows raising at the sound of his name from the stranger’s mouth, Felix swallowed thickly. “Yes. How do you know?”

“We have Psychology 101 together.” The first non-flirtatious words coming from the man, though that didn’t last long. “And I always remember the pretty faces.”

Pretty. That word, again, made Felix’s stomach churn and his pants tighten. Internally, he scolded himself for being so new to this that the simple compliment could affect him like this.

“I’m—You—Erm—” Felix stumbled over his thoughts pathetically. The stranger’s eyes kept running over all Felix’s features and he was very aware of it. He must have thought Felix was an utter basket-case. If he wanted to keep the last bit of pride, he had to get it together. Quick. “What’s your name?”

“Ouch,” the guy said as he placed his hand over a heart in mock hurt. “And here I hoped you had paid as much attention to me as I did you.”

What now? He had paid attention to Felix? When? How long? And why? Was this all part of a play, or was he kidding? Felix didn’t know what to think.

“I—I’m sorry.”

“No worries. I’m messing with you.” A breath of relief escaped Felix’s lips as he hoped the guy didn’t notice. “I’m Wooyoung. Nice to make your acquaintance.”

“You, too,” Felix replied with the first smile in approximately hours.

“So, Felix. Now that I saved your life twice, what do you say we have a drink? It’s on me.”

Felix laughed at the joke as he pushed a strand of his blonde hair behind his ear.

“I already have one,” Felix explained, holding up the beer towards Wooyoung.

“Beer? You’re one of those guys?” Wooyoung asked with a sarcastic undertone, making Felix blush as he eyed the brown bottle.

“Actually, no. I never liked beer.” Placing the almost full bottle on the counter, he let Wooyoung guide him around the counter. A display of countless different liquors met them in a broad array.

“What’s your poison? Vodka? Gin?” Wooyoung questioned as he grabbed two red cups from the stack.

“Rum, actually.” The slight smile on Wooyoung flustered Felix as he hoped he hadn’t somehow made a fool of himself. Again. “What?”

“Nothing,” Wooyoung shrugged as he filled the two cups with a quarter rum before topping them off with coke. “I just know how to pick ‘em.” Felix didn’t know what he was hinting at, so he only smiled once Wooyoung handed him his drink. “To new acquaintances.”

“Yes. Acquaintances.”

With that, they toasted and took a sip each. The mixture of Captain Morgan and Coke gave Felix a sweet aftertaste. Much more comfortable than the beer had done, and he returned the smile Wooyoung sent him.

This whole situation was rather new to Felix. He had never been to a party like this. Single, that was. He never had the chance to meet someone on the go in a similar situation, and that reality filled him with unease. Despite having only met the guy, Felix wanted Wooyoung to like him. Whether that was a like in the we’ll become good friends sense or the give me all of you kinda way.

For a moment, Felix felt he was getting ahead of himself. He had met Wooyoung a few minutes ago. For all he knew, being flirtatious could have been engraved in his personality. Felix had arrived at campus mere days ago and even pledged to ease himself into this new, true identity. He definitely shouldn’t rush it.

As fast as he remembered that pledge he had taken, the memory evaporated. Wooyoung’s hand touched his hip, pulling him slightly closer, in front of everyone. Including his roommate and Jackson—two people he had no idea how they’d react to finding out his deepest secret. A secret he had never told anyone, on top of that.

“So, Felix—” Looking around the room, Felix soon realised that Jisung had left, and so had Jackson. A bunch of random people were running around, albeit ignoring the two guys in the corner, throwing googly eyes at each other. That realisation relaxed him almost entirely. “What’s your deal?”

Felix’s eyes met Wooyoung’s lips as he licked his own, a little nervous in the presence of someone so beautiful still. “What do you mean?”

“Are you, like, single? Hetero? Better tell me now before I fall for another straight guy.”

For someone so—unfamiliar, Felix felt himself drawn to anything Wooyoung did. Much more than he ever had with any of his ex-girlfriends. Sure, Felix was nervous around him, his hands shaking so heavily, he feared he’d spill his drink on the guy. At least some blame laid on his inexperience, blood rushing through his system like it was racing against itself. How was Wooyoung so self-assured and head-on anyways?

“I don’t know what to say.”

That was the truth. Felix had no idea how to answer such a straightforward question. Especially since he hadn’t said the words I am gay out loud, ever. Not even to himself. Expressing his personality to a stranger, out of all people, felt so out of place for him. Although he couldn’t deny the unmistakable magnetism pulling him towards Wooyoung.

“That’s okay. Because I know.”

The fingers at Felix’s hips dug into his flesh a little fiercer as Wooyoung closed in, breath hitting Felix’s cheek. Everything around him slowed in motion as his gaze switched from Wooyoung’s eyes to his lips, unsure of what to do or how to act. Would this be his first kiss with a man? With a stranger? In front of all these people? Tipsy from two unfinished drinks and Wooyoung’s presence alone?

“You do?” It took him a few seconds to finally reply, the tension becoming too much, too fast. “Maybe you can tell me. Because I have no fucking idea.”

Wooyoung laughed out loud at his words; a hearty laugh which sounded much like heaven to Felix. Some of the tension vanished as he took another deep breath and a long sip from his drink.

“And he’s funny, too. Damn, I really do know how to pick ‘em.”

The words made Felix blush as he averted his gaze towards the floor.

“I tell you what,” Wooyoung retracted his hands as his softening gaze met Felix’s anxious one. He must have noticed Felix’s unsure aura, torn between wanting to experience whatever Wooyoung had in mind and taking it slow. Felix had never been this happy about his expressional features. “How about you figure out what your deal is first? And when you do, come find me.”

As much as those words took the pressure off, Felix couldn’t deny the hint of disappointment pulling at his mood. He wanted to try and get him to close the proximity again, feeling cold after Wooyoung had pulled away. Sneakers screeching against the tiles soon captured their attention, rendering the moment gone. Felix recognised the owner as the same guy Wooyoung had been sitting next to in class. How could he have forgotten the bright pink hair and features as sharp as a fox’s?

“Dude, you gotta come watch this,” the guy exclaimed as he came over, dragging Wooyoung away by his hand. “Mingi is trying to do a keg-stand. It’s fucking hilarious. Like a giraffe trying to… well, do a kegstand.”

“No way!” With one last wink that made Felix’s knees weak, Wooyoung ran after his friend and out of Felix’s vision. It took him a few desperate moments to steady himself, hands still trembling from the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

Felix turned around, one, to tighten his grip around the counter and regain his balance, and two, conceal the boner which his pants did nothing to hide. His mind kept racing back to the proximity, the touches. The flirtatious words of a guy he barely knew but, at the same time, felt like he wanted to know everything about. The distance allowed him to realised how fast everything had played out. And while he feared it had happened all too fast, he couldn’t help but want to skip forward even further.

Perhaps, it was that he was desperate to finally get a taste of what he had denied himself for years. Crushes, love, passion. Everything his girlfriends had felt, but he never quite managed to. Making mistakes and gaining experience. Anything eventually leading him to alwaysness. With whomever that might be.

Although, right now, he wanted to have a sense of it with one particular person.

Two excruciating hours later, Felix found himself in the living area of the frat house. He had thought back to the moment in the kitchen so many times he could hardly count them. Not to mention how often he had gotten semi-hard thinking about Wooyoung’s breath against his cheek. His hands on his hips. And his words in his ear.

How about you figure out what your deal is first? And when you do, come find me.

But what if there was nothing to figure out? What if Felix already knew what he wanted and what his deal was? What if the only thing keeping him from acting on it was his inexperience?

All those what if’s jogging through Felix’s brain didn’t change anything. All he wanted—truly wanted at the moment—was to drag Wooyoung into the nearest closet and make him feel good. Have Wooyoung make him feel good. Whatever the guy was up for, honestly. Felix had spent the better part of two decades pretending to be someone he wasn’t. Now that he had a fresh start, he desired to finally be his true self.

It took him not 20 minutes longer until he decided that enough was enough.

Y/N, Yuqi and Changbin had left a while ago to play Truth or Drink in the kitchen, leaving Felix with a group of random boys. Sure, it was a group of boys he considered his closest friends on campus, but right now, they appeared so boring. Especially with a much more intriguing person, throwing him suggestive winks from the other end of the room.

How he had even noticed Wooyoung in the sea of drunk students was beyond him. Though Felix had no brain capacity left for the whys and hows. Wooyoung was sipping on his drink, playing with the straw about as suggestively as Felix had seen anyone do. Biting at the short fingernail of his pinky, Felix already felt the excitement nagging at his gut. The combination of clothes, alcohol and arousal ran him so very hot.

Wooyoung’s pink-haired friend didn’t notice he wasn’t paying him the slightest hint of attention. How ever important their conversation was, Felix couldn’t bring himself to care. This whole back and forth went on for a few minutes when Felix finally couldn’t take it anymore.

Without a word to his friends he got up from his seat, eyes drawn to the beautiful tempter at the other side of the room. Once Wooyoung recognised the intention behind Felix’s approach, he left his friend for the stairs.

The sway in his hips had Felix’s whole attention as he followed him upstairs, always a few steps behind to not alert the surrounding couples. As though they weren’t completely immersed in their make-outs and other grindings.

Once at the upper end of the staircase, Felix looked around to find the hallway empty. Someone must have ensured the private rooms remained private, and usually, this would have been the end of his path. Though the confidence in Wooyoung’s step encouraged Felix to push that to the deepest part of his brain.

His movements stayed cautious until he reached the end of the hall, entering the last room on the left. Felix took a deep breath as he closed the door and turned around. Not a second went by until he noticed the man on one of the two beds, drink long forgotten on one of the desks.

“Hi.” With no hint of pressure in his voice, Wooyoung watched Felix fidgeting by the door.

“Hi.”

Silence took over the room as Felix realised why Wooyoung wasn’t being his usual flirty self. Understanding how he had some reservations still, he left every decision up to Felix. It gave him a sense of security, understanding that if he didn’t want anything to happen, nothing would. Even if they were on their own in a small room, veiled in tension thick enough to cut with a spoon.

With that sense of total security in mind, Felix took a shaky step forward.

“So—” His voice broke as he regretted not bringing his drink. He felt the deep desire for something to cool his system, easing the lump in his throat. “I figured out what my deal is. And I’m coming to you, like you said.”

“Good.” The smile on Wooyoung’s face was as non-suggestive as he had ever seen, further soothing his tense body. “Do you mind sharing with me?”

“No. I will.” Taking another deep breath, Felix looked to the ceiling as he brought his hand to his stiff shoulders.

This was the moment. Felix would say the words out loud for the first time. Reality would hit, and there would be no escaping it anymore.

Fortunately, Felix didn’t want to run from it any longer.

“I’m single. And, I’m—”

Say it! He won’t judge. Just spit it out!

“I’m gay.”

“Okay.”

Okay. Okay? Despite the simplicity of the word, pure relief overcame Felix, body slumping as exhaustion blurred his vision. He was gay, and it was okay.

The next breath through a watery veil of happiness and alleviation felt like the first one he had ever taken.

“Oh my God, did I say something wrong?” Wooyoung hurried over to Felix’s trembling body as he wrapped his protective arms around him. Felix’s hands clung to the man’s shirt, face pressed into the crook of his neck as he let himself be held. Nothing more. Just held and accepted.

“No. Nothing wrong.” The whispered words reached Wooyoung’s ear within milliseconds. “All the right words. But—”

He stopped, pondering for a few seconds whether to confide in someone he hardly knew. A man who had nothing but shamelessly flirted with him for all 20 minutes of aggregated conversation. But he was here right now. And Felix needed to let him know how much he had already done for him.

Also, he was bawling into the guy’s shirt. It could hardly get much more intimate than this, anyways.

“I never said it out loud.”

“Oh… Oh!”

The realisation hit Wooyoung like a bus as he further fastened his comforting grip on Felix. It all made sense to him now. The insecurity. The uncomfortable tension whenever he said anything below the belt. The silence following the question of what his deal was. And here Wooyoung was, thinking he was yet again barking up the wrong tree. As it turned out, he had finally found the right tree, though it hadn’t bloomed yet.

“Fuck. I’m sorry I came on so strong. It just… I thought you were cute, but then I wasn’t so sure if you felt the same way. I assumed you might be one of those straight guys who aren’t so straight after a few drinks. So, I went all in to skip all that will-they-won’t-they crap. Wouldn’t have been the first time I was utterly disappointed at the end of the day.”

He had only tried to feel Felix out and learn if he himself could get hurt. Evidently, neither of them was trying nor intending to play games with the other.

“You didn’t come on too strong. I mean, you kinda did. But I liked it.”

As they drew away from each other, light laughter filled the room. Wooyoung’s arms were still circled around Felix’s waist as they stared into each other’s eyes. Their smiles soon faded as they recognised their proximity. When Wooyoung’s hands reclaimed their position on his hip, Felix’s stomach erupted in sheer excitement. The sentimentality of the moment was ultimately broken by his arousal.

“You like this, too. I can feel it,” Wooyoung pointed out with a smile as he squeezed Felix’s sides once, making him jump a little. “Knew it.”

“Fine. I like it.”

“So, you never told anyone you’re gay. Does that mean you just found out yourself? Or did you always know on some level and try to fit into a pair of shoes that weren’t yours?”

“A little of both. Like, I used to crush on Danny Phantom so hard it surprises me my parents never caught on. But then again, I had many girlfriends in Middle and High School.”

Wooyoung explored Felix’s cheeks and nose where freckles decorated him in beautiful patterns.

“You’ve never been with a guy then?”

Felix shook his head as his gaze met Wooyoung’s inviting, plump lips. In his subconscious, he grazed his teeth against them, the intimacy of the moment turning the corners of his mouth upwards. The closer Felix got to him, the sexier he found him to be.

“But you want to be?”

This time, Felix nodded. Never had he been more sure than while looking at the most beautiful man he had ever seen. So close he could almost taste him. And if that wasn’t sign enough already, the prominent tent in his pants at the simple touch of his hips assured him.

He wanted Wooyoung, more than he had ever wanted anyone else.

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more.”

“That’s good. I can work with that.”

Leaning in their eyes met as Felix took in what was happening. Like the romance novel moment he had always dreamed of, seconds turned minutes, and moments turned into a lifeline. And then, finally, after hours of distant pining, Wooyoung closed the gap between them.

Now, Felix had kissed many people before. Cassidy, at 14, under the old cherry tree in his backyard while reading his favourite anime. Emily at 15 in more places than he could remember. And many others since. Girls, exclusively.

Though right now, as he tasted Wooyoung for the first time it finally dawned on him. The sweetness of his scent, the rum on his lips and the coke in his breath. This was what a kiss should feel like. This was what desire was supposed to feel like.

They deepened the kiss, tongues brushing lips, and Felix reached for Wooyoung’s neck. He ran his hands through the man’s hair, mouths moving in unison as silent whimpers escaped his lips. When Wooyoung pulled away, it was to catch his breath while also searching for a hint of regret in Felix’s features. When he couldn’t find anything but lust, he smirked, reconnecting his lips to the other’s.

Hands clawed at and bodies moved against one another as desperate whines filled the room. Mainly Felix’s, but who could blame him? Every single one of Wooyoung’s movements was the perfect calculation. He knew through and through what he was doing. Wooyoung clawed at Felix, pulling him into his body and providing his aching erection with much-needed friction. Semi-aroused for the better part of the evening, finally, he got relief from the discomfort.

Pulling Felix’s hair and tipping his head back, Wooyoung’s lips moved to the side of his neck. All the while, Felix kept his hands in Wooyoung’s hair, pulling him even closer and not letting him go.

“Fuck…” Felix slurred when the other sucked at his skin, trying to mark him for later. In the past, he hated having hickeys on his neck. Others knowing he had made out with his girlfriend had always made him uncomfortable. With Wooyoung, he couldn’t deny that he loved the thought of people knowing he belonged to someone. Or at least had done so for a brief moment in time.

Wooyoung’s hands fisted Felix’s shirt as he inched it up before checking in with the blonde, “Is this okay?”

“Yes. Please, take it off already.”

“Getting hot?” Wooyoung asked with a smirk, getting his answer once Felix nodded with a thick swallow. “Good.”

Once the fabric landed on the floor, Wooyoung lingered to take in the view. He had expected many things from the closeted nerdy boy, but not this. Not a full-on six-pack, tensing as he let his fingertips wander over his hot skin.

“Damn. Who would have thought?” The thoughts leaving Wooyoung’s brain without a filter made Felix blush. It was one thing, hearing how well-built he was from someone else. But someone he deemed the hottest person he had ever laid eyes on? That did something to him alright. And when Wooyoung leaned down to let his perky tongue run over the bulges, that did a whole other thing to him.

“Fuck… More, please.”

“Patience. I have a lot more to give you,” Wooyoung told him with a smirk as he pushed Felix onto the mattress and sank to his knees. This view was heavenly, straight out of a porno, and Felix felt like he was dreaming again. The whole situation was surreal.

Looking up at the blond, Wooyoung pulled him down for another kiss before focusing on his pecs. He took his sweet time worshipping Felix’s chest, his nipples and abs. Electric shocks rushed straight through Felix’s spine towards the top of his head. Wooyoung couldn’t get enough, spending a few extra seconds kissing his abdominal muscles until a layer of spit and sweat covered them.

“Please…” The silent prayer escaped Felix like a mantra. He’d come in his pants if Wooyoung didn’t do something soon and that was definitely not how he wanted this first time to end. Bad enough his first first time (a few years ago with Emily in the backseat of his father’s Toyota) had ended that way. Another taste of that embarrassment would have been too much to overcome.

“You think you’re ready for this?”

“I was born ready. Just— do something, please.”

“Oh, I’ll be doing much more than just something.”

Wooyoung opened Felix’s pants, dragging them over his thighs and towards the floor. Once the jeans had gone, Felix noticed he was almost entirely naked while Wooyoung was far from it. Without a second thought, he pulled the man’s shirt up, and over his head. To even it out, if you will. Now, not only their bodies but their pure skin was connecting. No restraints, no barriers. Only the two of them.

“I’m gonna go slow, okay? Let me know if you want me to do something different.”

As sweet as Felix identified the assurance to be, it was much unneeded. The second Wooyoung pulled him out of his briefs—tip red and leaking—he licked a thick stripe up the underside. That’s when Felix knew this would be excruciating in the best way immaginable.

Wooyoung worked him with so much knowledge and understanding of the male anatomy. It felt like he was inside Felix’s body, metaphorically. He knew exactly where to lick, where to suck and how to work him so he would fall apart below him. Felix’s eyes stayed glued to the beauty, watching him suck on his length and take him down his throat. As though he had never done anything else.

The past blowjobs Felix had received—which there were quite a few, thanks to his charming personality and sweet looks—had been good. He couldn’t lie that he had enjoyed every one of them, though it had never been this mind-numbing. Wooyoung had a technique to his movements only someone with a dick could come up with. Someone who had experienced many a blowjob first-hand— Felix was sure of that.

Spit slid down his length as Wooyoung navigated him deeper with each thrust, hands pumping what he couldn’t fit. His eyes filled with utter and total lust, gazes meeting when he looked up at Felix with a blurriness to his vision. It was a sight Felix had never seen—so pretty and feral. Enough to make him burst on the spot.

However, he couldn’t let that happen.

Felix’s hand on Wooyoung’s cheek urged him to let him fall from his mouth, cock glistening in a beautiful glow. He leaned down and connected their mouths as he tasted himself on Wooyoung’s tongue. Never had he tasted so delicious.

“Good?” Wooyoung asked as though he hadn’t made Felix see stars. Right now, he wasn’t sure he could ever feel as good again.

“So, so good.”

They shared a short moment of silence while Felix scooted back on the bed until he reached the headboard. Wooyoung situated himself above Felix’s lap as they continued their heated make-out session.

Felix admired Wooyoung’s broad chest and sculptured pecs while he planted wet kisses against his jaw. With as much confidence as Wooyoung presented, Felix wasn’t surprised his beauty continued past his face. Although he was still in awe of the perfect piece of art that was Wooyoung’s body. So chiselled, so muscular, so masculine. A dream come true in the most literal sense.

Delicate fingers ran over Felix’s stomach and snapped him out of his daydream. His abs tightened when he felt Wooyoung reach back and wrap his digits around his length.

“Oh, God.” Wooyoung seemed to enjoy the teasing too much, a triumphant grin on his features at the heightened reactivity in Felix’s expression. “Please. I— God.”

The grunt leaving Felix was nothing short of animalistic as Wooyoung’s thumbed over the head.

“You were saying?”

“I need you. Please.”

Bringing his hands back to his front, Wooyoung ended every direct skin contact to Felix. The loss of the physical component refocused all their senses while the fog in their brains lifted a little.

“You sure you want your first time to be drunk at a frat party?”

Felix appreciated Wooyoung’s caution, heart swelling as he wondered how he had deserved someone so considerate. A stranger, yes, but the most respectful one. However, this was hardly his first time. His body count filled all of one five-fingered hand. And even though this felt different, he was well aware of the vulnerability he exposed himself to.

“First of all, I’m not that drunk. See?” Felix straightened up as he positioned his pointer fingers at the corners of his peripheral vision. Bringing them together to touch right before his nose, he proofed his hypothesis. Much to Wooyoung’s amusement, who giggled at the adorable action. “Second, this isn’t my first time. I’ve done this before. With girls, yes. But I know what I’m getting myself into. And third, I really fucking want you to fuck me. Like yesterday.”

Opening up to Wooyoung seemed so easy after he had literally sucked his cock mere moments earlier. The guy’s sweet personality made it much easier for Felix to voice his wishes. He was sure about this.

Apparently, Wooyoung understood so much.

“Okay. But only under one condition.” Wooyoung’s fingers ran between Felix’s pecs and down his adonis belt. “You are the one doing the fucking this time. I have nothing to prep you with, and you want your first time to be slow, believe me. Ergo, you’re topping.”

“Alright,” Felix gave in with a laugh. If that’s what Wooyoung wanted to do, then Felix was content with being the penetrator rather than the penetrated. He also couldn’t deny the skip of his heartbeat when Wooyoung suggested there would be a second time. “One more thing. What’s topping?”

Eyes widening in amusement, Wooyoung couldn’t help but giggle at the younger’s words. “God, you’re innocent. Good thing you have me to show you everything you need to know.”

Rolling off Felix’s body, Wooyoung rid himself of his remaining clothes— jeans and underwear landing on top of Felix’s pile. With his free hand, Wooyoung reached for the nightstand and rummaged through its content with a hopeful expression.

“Come on, San-ie. Don’t disappoint me right now.” After a few seconds, his face lit up while he pulled lube and a condom from the drawer. “Do I know my best friend or what?”

“San. Is that the pink-haired guy?”

“Yup. I dyed it myself. You like it?” Wooyoung asked as he handed Felix the condom.

“It suits him well.” He rolled the piece of latex over himself with vigour while Wooyoung opened the lube and began spreading it between his cheeks. “So, this is his room? He doesn’t mind us using his bed?”

“Oh, I’m counting on it. San used mine so often, with so many different women, he should be paying half of my rent.” Felix chuckle was dark, eyes focusing on Wooyoung once he was back on top of him. “But enough about him.”

Felix’s eyes ran down Wooyoung’s naked form as he felt himself twitch against thin air. For a few rose-coloured seconds, he let himself enjoy the view of a beautiful man on top of him. His hands roamed over the older’s thighs, feeling the texture of his smooth, sun-kissed skin. He could have spent hours exploring every crevice of Wooyoung’s body.

In the dim lightening of the room, Wooyoung looked ethereal, muscular statue and pretty face only further continued in the shape of his cock. In no porn had Felix ever seen someone so enchanting, mouth watering at the mere sight of his erection. As much as Wooyoung had focused on him within the previous moments, Felix couldn’t shake the need to do the same for him. His own arousal pushed past its limits by the thought of making Wooyoung feel good.

Hands wandering further up his thighs, Felix soon reached the base of his dick. With one questioning look followed by an agreeing hum, Felix finally touched him.

He went slow at first, testing the waters and Wooyoung’s reactions to figure out what he liked. It took him not a minute to do so. Working Wooyoung the same way he worked himself in moments of privacy did the trick. It almost came natural to him as he collected the guy’s pre-cum to smear it over his length, hand pumping from base to tip in short, rhythmic motions.

“Fuck. You’re so pretty.”

The words were as much unsolicited as they were unintentional, though Wooyoung enjoyed the compliment. A blush appeared on his cheeks as he closed the gap, pushing his hungry mouth against Felix’s.

“How about you fuck me and see how much prettier I can become.”

Felix, yet again, felt himself twitch at the crudeness of the words, proving to himself that, yes. He might have a thing for dirty talk. Though that realisation was for another day to explore. With his bottom lip between his teeth, Wooyoung shimmied down his body until he reached his lap. Squirting some of the lube onto his palm, Wooyoung lost no time to massage it into Felix’s length.

“Ready?”

“God, yes.”

As Wooyoung sunk all the way to complete fullness, Felix realised that was a lie. He could have never prepared for the feeling of Wooyoung’s snug hole, so much tighter than anything he had ever felt around himself before. His hands flew to the older’s thighs as he moved up and down and steadied himself by clawing his nails into Felix’s skin.

“Fuck, you’re tight.”

“You have no idea how amazing you feel,” Wooyoung agreed with a moan, hands resting on Felix’s stomach for support. “You think you can move? Meet me in the middle?”

“I don’t even know if I can breathe right now.”

His words were met with a giggle, though despite his inability to think, Felix lifted his hip up to meet him. Moving against gravity was more demanding than he had anticipated, but the look of pure bliss on Wooyoung’s face made it worthwhile.

He definitely hadn’t lied when he said he’d become even prettier while fucked out.

They soon found a rhythm that was comfortable for either. Still, Felix knew he wouldn’t last much longer. Not when Wooyoung caressed all his senses so perfectly, eyes, ears, hands, mouth and mind filled with nothing but him. The world stood still around them, entirely immersed in the moment.

One particularly sharp thrust poked Felix’s attention, tip hitting a spot within Wooyoung that made him throw his head back with a whimper. His body trembled under Felix’s palms, abdominal muscles pulling Wooyoung forward and crouching over the younger. At first, Felix believed whatever he had done had hurt Wooyoung. Once the older opened his eyes—gaze veiled in animalistic hunger—Felix understood it wasn’t a grunt of pain.

“Was that…”

“My prostate? Fuck, yes.” Stilling on top of him, Wooyoung needed to rest for a second. Right when he took up his previous movements, Felix fell back into the same rhythm. Five thrusts in, the same thing happened again, though Wooyoung didn’t stop this time. To say that the sight was divine would have been a crude understatement. “Fuck… Touch me, baby. Please!”

The first time Wooyoung begged him for something—rather than the other way around—Felix identified another new kink. This was all new anyways, and Wooyoung still unleashed underlying desires Felix hadn’t even known existed.

Felix’s hands flew to Wooyoung’s dick, stroking it in unison with his thrusts. And like that, the older fell apart on top of him.

Felix had only ever seen a man cum through the screen of his laptop. It had seemed so fake, the whimpering and grunting way too excessive to be genuine. Or so he thought.

When Wooyoung hit his high, he completely slumped with a groan in Felix’s ear as he released onto his stomach. Hot spurts painted his abs in white, running between the crevices and towards his navel—and there was so much of it. Felix wasn’t quite sure if this was still considered healthy.

Despite being in a state of utter bliss, Wooyoung kept moving, dragging out his orgasm and urging Felix towards his own. The sight and noises would have gotten him there as was. The added pleasure of Wooyoung’s tired hole clenching and his intense eyes eventually launched him into his sweet, sweet release.

Panting beside each other, they tried catching their breaths for a few minutes. It could have been hours, for all Felix cared. He couldn’t have been trusted with anything right now, not even telling the time.

At some point, Felix cleaned himself before reclaiming his position under Wooyoung, with the older’s head propped on his chest.

“That was…”

“Yeah.”

Chuckling filled the room as their gazes fixated on the ceiling. Wooyoung pressed kisses against Felix’s chest on occasion, a sweet gesture that was much appreciated. The longer they remained entangled, listening to each other’s breathing, the faster Felix’s mind spun. The kissing, the tension, the desire. Everything was so fresh in his mind but, at the same time, felt so far away. He couldn’t deny that after finally figuring out why everyone was so obsessed with sex, he couldn’t wait to experience it again.

Wooyoung figured Felix’s mind out with one short look at his lap.

“You’re still hard.”

It wasn’t so much still as it was again, his body visibly not done yet despite having reached a peak minutes ago.

“Because you’re still pretty.”

The explanation forced Wooyoung’s cheeks into another blush as he kissed Felix, softer this time but just as passionate. Climbing back on top of him, Wooyoung nipped at Felix’s bruised neck, making him moan at the mix of pain and pleasure.

“That’s gonna be a bitch to cover up tomorrow,” Wooyoung recognised with a giggle as his gaze met Felix’s. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s alright. I like having a visual reminder for the next few days.”

“Well, if that’s so…”

Trailing off, Wooyoung leaned back down, sucking on Felix’s chest. A red bruise appeared within seconds of him biting and licking over the flesh, Felix holding him close by his hair to keep him going. Any direct skin contact Wooyoung gave him Felix couldn’t get enough of. He wanted to live in this moment for as long as possible.

The fire in his stomach reignited when the older licked over his nipples, swirling the buds between his lips. The shock waves coursing through Felix reached his cock, which twitched in excitement.

Yup, he definitely wasn’t done for today.

While Wooyoung kissed his way all over Felix’s chest, the younger reentered heaven. He couldn’t help but ponder what else there was he hadn’t tried yet. Like giving blowjobs. Or whatever the antonym of topping was. He couldn’t quite wait to figure it out, although some higher power forced patience on him.

Felix wanted to ask Wooyoung if he could taste him, but he didn’t get there. Before anything else could happen, the door to the room opened with a creek, and Felix’s head snapped up. His eyes darted to the entrance, shock written on his face as his gaze met the intruder’s.

He couldn’t quite tell whether you had recognised him. Although the lighting most likely wasn’t dark enough to shield his identity. You must have identified him. But he couldn’t react fast enough. As soon as you had appeared, you muttered a perplexed “I’m sorry” and pulled the door shut. Leaving Felix with only fear and a hard-on he wasn’t so sure would find any true relief for the rest of the night

Next Chapter >>> coming soon

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