Isaiah Jesus x Shelby! Reader
summary: in which Isaiah Jesus and Y/N Shelby pretend to be nothing more than friends with benefits, leading to complications and tense feelings
warnings: smut, swearing, jealous! isaiah, jealous! reader, idiots in love
word count: 3k
Nothing goes on within the walls of Polly Gray's house without her knowledge.
This saying has held true for years, all the Shelby siblings often using it as a way of teasing their aunt – yourself included. From the time that she somehow knew that it was you and John who had taken all Tommy's left shoe's and right socks to the moment that Finn and you had hidden a stray kitten in a box under your bed – she knew it all.
Which is why you were surprised that Polly hadn't noticed what was going on between you and your best friend, Isaiah. In fact, it had been your brother Finn who was the first one to find out about the thing going on with the pair of you.
He had caught the boy trying to sneak out of your window when he opened his to let the smoke from his cigarette out; instantly rushing into your room.
"Isaiah, what the fuck are you doing?" Finn whisper-yelled, swinging your door open – your eyes widening when you turned to see your brother.
With one leg out of the window and his hands hastily buttoning up his shirt, Isaiah looked equally as shocked as you as he tried to form a satisfying response, for the youngest Shelby as to why he was in his sisters room.
"Finn, funny you joined us," his smooth voice wavered as Finn rolled his eyes, before pointing between the two of you.
"Are you guys fucking?"
Wrapping your robe tighter around your naked frame, you ran a hand hastily through your matted hair – Finn's jaw dropping at the sight of the markings that littered your collar bone from where your robe slipped.
"Jesus christ," he snickered, trying to stop his laughter. "Why hasn't aunt Pol told us?"
Shrugging, you let out a sigh before pinching your brothers bicep.
"Because aunt Pol surprisingly doesn't know," you rolled your eyes, before gesturing for Finn to leave. "Don't you dare fucking tell her either Finn or I'll dob you in for stealing all her scones."
From that moment on, Finn had helped you and Isaiah hide your hookups.
If Isaiah stayed over, he would tell everybody that they had a boys night or if the pair of you accidentally slipped up and let your hands linger a bit too long on one another, Finn would take one for the team and embarrass himself.
However, every time he asked if you were together you would immediately deny it – it's complicated, was all you said.
Because it was complicated after all, you and Isaiah weren't in a doting relationship; you fucked and that was it. And while there are numerous things wrong with having your best friends head between your thighs, you couldn't find yourself to care.
Isaiah ate you out like you were the last meal he was ever going to taste, his head covered by your skirt as you were perched upon your desk – papers thrown carelessly across the floor in your haste to have each other like this. Sensually.
"Isaiah," you gasped – his name barely leaving your lips. You were close, oh so close, and he knew it. Suddenly his fingers were in you, adding to the feeling of his tongue swirling on your clit and you exploded – hands barely being able to keep your body upright.
Trying to even out your breathing as Isaiah pulled himself up off his knees, you finally came face-to-face with the smug boy. You watched as he sucked on his fingers that were covered in your juices – a soft whine leaving your throat at the erotic sight.
"I'm going to fuck you over this desk one day," his voice was deep, filled with lust as he caged you between his arms on either side of you. "Bend you over and just completely ruin you."
"Shit," was all you could say to his words, eyes fluttering shut as his hands made their way under your skirt to run up and down your thighs – he lowly chuckled at the pathetic state you were in.
Before things could become heated again, a knock at your door startled you both – Isaiah quickly pulling away to round the other side of your desk as you hopped down, straightening yourself out as best as you could.
"Who is it?" You called, only to hear John's voice yell back asking if he could enter; which you agreed to.
"Hey, we're about to leave for the Garrison, you coming?" Your brother beamed, before looking at Isaiah who was sitting on the chair opposite you. "Isaiah, what the bloody hell are you doing in here?"
Before Isaiah could respond, you interjected, "asking me the same thing you were Johnny boy," – you were becoming too comfortable with lying.
"Alright," John pretended to not notice that your panties that were in a heap on the floor next to Isaiah's coat that he had forgotten to put back on, or the disastrous state the office was in. "We'll c'mon you two, let's go."
Nodding, you told John to give you both a minute, the boy shaking his head fondly before shutting the door. Staring at Isaiah, you quickly reached to the floor; grabbing his coat and tossing it at him before hastily pulling on your panties.
Walking towards the door, you turned towards Isaiah who was still sitting with his coat on his lap.
"Well," you trailed, causing the boy to look at you. "You coming or not?"
~~~~~~~~~
Jealousy was a funny thing to Isaiah.
He loved to make fun of John Shelby when the boy would drop everything to stop some daft man who thought it was a good idea to flirt with Esme or relentlessly teased Arthur for being "whipped," every time the eldest Shelby stormed over to his wife, Linda, who was being sent one too many drinks from the grimy men at the bar.
He just never thought he would feel that way – especially, because the two of you agreed that what you were doing was purely for fun and nothing else.
Swallowing the bitter whiskey on the tip of his tongue, Isaiah watched as you chatted to the man who sat on the stall next to you at the bar. The Garrison was loud and full of life, but Isaiah swore that all he could hear was the sound of his racing heart as his eyes locked on you.
His jaw tensed as you put your dainty hand on the business mans arm, laughing at something he had said. He was good for you, Isaiah told himself – you needed someone who wasn't rough around the edges and the brown haired man beside you seemed to be just that.
Pouring himself another drink, Isaiah turned his attention back to Michael who was explaining some drunken theory to his cousins, pretending to laugh along with whatever drunken words that were spilling from his best friends lips. But he soon felt his attention slipping towards where he last saw you; only to find you and the man gone.
Perking his head up to see past the multitude of bodies in the Garrison, Isaiah couldn't find you anywhere and he felt his head leap with the realisation that you must've left with Mr. Goody-two-shoes.
So with a scoff he grabbed the bottle of whiskey, pouring himself another glass and downing it in one go before slumping back in his seat.
He shouldn't care about what, or who, you did – you guys weren't together, but he couldn't fucking help the way his stomach was doing flips at the idea of another mans hands touching you places that only his touched hours before, or the idea that he wasn't the only one to hear your moans, or see the way your face glowed when you reached bliss.
He couldn't help that he was pathetically in love with you – or that you didn't feel the same. So he did the only thing that seemed sensible in the moment, but he would regret once it was over.
She was pretty, but she wasn't you.
~~~~~~~~~
You hated to admit when your brothers were right – especially Finn.
In fact, the only sibling that you would ever allow to be right was Ada; the girl always being full of wisdom and advice to provide you when she was.
But here you were, sitting across the coffee table in the living room – Finn and you in a heated game of chess when he hit you with the question that you were trying to ignore.
"Do you love him?"
It should've been a simple question with a simple answer, instead your hand dropped your chess piece, head darting up to your brother who was watching your struggle with amusement.
"Love who?" You recovered, picking your piece up before moving it across the board. Finn only let out an annoyed groan, pushing the game aside to get your full attention.
"You fucking know who," his response was short and snappy. "Do you love Isaiah?"
Pinching the bridge of you nose – an action that you had been told one too many times by your aunt that it reminded her of Tommy – you leaned back against the couch behind you, arms raising in the air in frustration.
"No, maybe – I don't fucking know Finn, it's–."
"Complicated." He rolled his eyes, picking up a pawn from the board before tossed it at you. "It's only complicated because you're both making it that way."
Remaining quiet, you fiddled with the piece that landed in your lap before throwing it back at your brother who quickly dodged it before it hit his cheek.
Finn sighed, he wasn't one to get involved in your business – it was just the way you two worked since you were younger – but he couldn't help himself in this instance, knowing that if he didn't give you a push both you and Isaiah were going to end up hating each other and he wasn't ever going to let that happen.
"Look, Isaiah loves you. Don't ask how I know or deny it – because he fucking does. He couldn't take his eyes off you last night, it was like he was hypnotised by you; couldn't get his fucking attention. But he saw you with the man you were talking to and was obviously jealous, and when you both disappeared – let's just say he made a stupid mistake."
Furrowing your eyebrows, you looked towards the freckled boy in-front of you. "What kind of mistake?"
"The kind that involves a whole bottle of whiskey and a pretty brunette."
"Shit."
Another girl. Isaiah was with another girl last night while you were wide awake in bed waiting for him. His hands were on her, lips kissing hers instead of yours – touched her like he had touched you a thousand times. It hit you like a ton of bricks as you felt your heart break at the idea.
"Holy shit, Finn," you let out a shaky breath, eyes glossy with unshed tears. "I'm in love with Isaiah fucking Jesus."
~~~~~~~~~
No strings. That was the one rule you had both agreed upon when you started sleeping together. No fucking strings.
"Don't fall in love with me, Isaiah Jesus," you had specifically told him, Isaiah instantly agreeing; sarcastically replying as he undressed you.
"As long as you don't fall in love with me, Y/N Shelby."
But here you were, pacing back and forth in your room as you waited for Isaiah to let himself in after his meeting with Tommy. Your hands clenched and unclenched about a hundred times in the last forty-seconds, nerves rattling through every cell in your body at what you were about to admit to Isaiah.
Hearing a soft knock at your door, you instantly knew it was him – the timid boy pushing your door open, looking behind him to make sure none of your family were around before walking in.
Before he could say anything, your words fell from your mouth – everything you wanted to ask coming out all at once. "You were with another girl?"
"I- fucking what?" He spluttered, slightly stunned at your question that sounded more like a statement.
"Were you with another girl?" You repeated.
Still slightly stunned, Isaiah watched as you ran a shaky hand through your hair, his eyes noticing the small crescent moons on your palms from your nails, it was obvious that the idea of him with someone else made you stressed.
Instead of denying it, Isaiah only became defensive. "Well, you were with another guy!"
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
Groaning, Isaiah walked over to you bed – taking a seat on the edge before patting the space beside him as a signal for you to join him. He waited until you were comfortable before facing you – figuring that there was no point in this resulting in an argument that would definitely gain your families attention.
"That guy at the bar that you were talking to," Isaiah began, vulnerability creeping into his tone. "You left together and I-"
"Whoah hold on," you cut him off, turning you body towards him. "I didn't leave with Mr. Hughes. I took him to the back room to do business with Tommy and then went home because I was exhausted."
"So you didn't sleep with him?"
"No sia, I was actually waiting here for you while you were off with some girl that Finn told me about."
Huffing, Isaiah shook his head as he looked towards the wall – muttering about how Finn told you everything, before turning back towards you.
"I couldn't go through with it," he admitted, eyes turning soft as he reached up to brush a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. "I got to the front door of her house and she leaned up to kiss me and I pulled away because she wasn't who I wanted to be kissing. She wasn't who I wanted to be going home with."
"And who did you want to be kissing?" You voice was barely above a whisper as Isaiah moved closer to you; his soft breath fanning across your face. "Who did you want to go home with?"
"You, and only you."
With those simple words Isaiah's lips were on yours, his hands grabbing your hips to pull you onto his lap, while he shifted up against the headboard. Your hands held tightly onto his vest, as if you were scared that if you let go he would disappear from your grasp.
Pulling away, both of you were breathless as Isaiah pulled off his shirt – your hands lifting your dress up and over your head. Isaiah lunged forward to connect his lips to the skin just above your breasts – pressing light kisses upon it, as soft moans passed your lips.
"Isaiah," you whispered, pulling a hum from the boy as you ran your hands through his hair. Your heart practically bursting from your chest as you finally said those three little words. "I love you."
Isaiah's head seemed to shoot up at your words, the moonlight filtering into your room from the gap in your curtains hitting his skin perfectly, adding an angelic glow to him.
Your hand remains on his chest, just above his heart and you feel it skip a beat, maybe two, as he looks intently at your face as if searching for a reason of doubt behind your words. He came up empty.
Warm fingers curved around the nape of your neck, his forehead coming to rest upon yours. His words as soft as velvet – desperate and hopeful.
"Say it again."
You do.
You'd say it over a thousand times without him needing to ask.
"I love you, Isaiah Jesus."
The kiss is softer but more urgent to show just how much he appreciated the words. He swears he could stay here, in this moment, forever. Just him and you – he would if he could. He wishes he could commit the feeling to memory.
Instead, he says the words back as he flips you over, kisses as light as feathers as they are peppered over your bare chest.
"I love you, Y/N Shelby." The words are sweet, like the honey that Polly spends more money than necessary on. A groan barely audible emitting from the back of his throat as you unbuckle his belt. "So fucking much."
Your hands roam each others skin – your fingers lightly running over the scars that litter his chest before you kiss them. Intimate. Yours.
Your movements are fluid – knowing each others bodies better than your own. Only this time it isn't fucking. It's love making, and my God, did you love each other.
Your legs were wrapped around his hips – your head flies back against your pillow as he delivers a particularly harsh thrust in-between his rhythmic ones. Perfect. Sweet.
The bed-frame is lightly banging against the plaster wall and you're certain that it will leave a dent – or wake up your family. But you didn't care, not when it felt this good. Not when it was this right.
One of his hand creeps up to grab yours that's above gripping your sheet, his other making its way between your legs – thumb finding your bundle of nerves that sets your body alight. It's all you needed to push you there, the feeling causing Isaiah to crumble, white ribbons spilling inside you.
Collapsing beside you, Isaiah doesn't let go of your hand – he'd hold it tighter if he could. Jagged breaths leaving both of your parted lips as you stared at each other. Your hearts beating as one. It's beautiful. Delightful.
"Do you mean it?" He asks, a little too scared of rejection.
You roll over, your lips tasting his again. You repeat the words, whispering them to him, the moon and all the stars.
"I love you, Isaiah Jesus."
He watches as the glow settles upon your body – only one word filling Isaiah's mind as her takes in your angelic appearance. Lips swollen, his marks littered upon your body, hair a tussled mess that's cascaded around your head forming your own personal halo.
This is what euphoria feels like, he thinks – and he utterly believes it.
"I love you, Y/N Shelby."
Yeah, this is euphoria.