#binding 13

Cherry Wine | johnny kavanagh

summary: 1,4k. in the quiet of his room, with the door locked and the world fading away, johnny takes his time loving you the way he always does: gently, attentively, like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

cw: estabilished relationship, fluff, soft intimacy, could be considered a college!au, suggestive content, gentle johnny, english is not my first language xx.

author’s note: there’s not much smut to this but i hope you enjoy it :) sorry for the delay!

currently playing: cherry wine (live)

Johnny’s dorm room smells like laundry detergent and aftershave and something unmistakably him. The desk is cluttered with notebooks and rugby tape, his hoodie thrown over the back of the chair like he never really learned how to put things away.

You’re perched on the edge of his bed, legs crossed, watching him pace while he pretends not to be nervous about the exam he swears he didn’t study for.

“You’re gonna be fine,” you say, amused. “You say this every time.”

Johnny stops mid-step and looks at you, brows raised. “I do not.”

“You absolutely do.”

He scoffs, walking over until he’s standing between your knees. “You’re exaggerating.”

You tilt your head. “Am I?”

He stares at you for a beat, then breaks into that familiar grin — the one that always means he’s about to be annoying on purpose. “You just like arguing with me.”

“Not true,” you say lightly. “I like winning.”

Johnny laughs, low and warm, and reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His thumb lingers at your cheek, gentle, grounding. “You already won,” he murmurs. “You’re here.”

Your chest tightens a little at that — not in a sad way, just in the Johnny way. He has a talent for saying simple things that feel bigger than they should.

He leans in, forehead pressing to yours, noses brushing. “You always distract me before exams, you know that?”

You smile. “I take my job seriously.”

His hands slide to your waist, warm and familiar. He doesn’t rush it — Johnny never does with you. He just sways you slightly, like there’s music only the two of you can hear.

“Sit back,” he murmurs.

You obey, lying back against his pillows as he follows, bracing himself above you. His eyes flick down to your lips, then back up, teasing.

“You gonna kiss me,” you ask, “or just stare?”

He grins. “Impatient.”

But he kisses you anyway — slow, unhurried, like he has nowhere else to be. It’s soft at first, then a little deeper, just enough to make your toes curl. His hand cups your jaw, thumb brushing your lip in a way that makes your breath hitch.

You tug lightly at his t-shirt. “Johnny…”

“Yeah?” His voice is already rougher.

You don’t answer — you just kiss him again, this time with intent.

He chuckles quietly against your mouth and pulls back just enough to look at you.

“You’re dangerous, you know that?”

“Learned from the best.”

He shakes his head fondly and kisses down your jaw, lingering at your neck, slow and teasing. Every touch is careful, like he’s savoring you, like this is something precious and not just heat.

The world narrows to his bed, his hands, the sound of his breath when you tug him closer.

Johnny presses his forehead to yours again, voice soft. “Door locked?”

You nod.

“Good,” he murmurs, smiling. “Come here.”

Johnny pulls you closer, his body warm and solid as he settles over you, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. His hands are familiar on you — confident, gentle, like he knows every place you like to be touched because he does.

“Still distracting me,” he murmurs against your mouth, smiling when you smile back.

“Seems like a you problem,” you whisper.

He laughs softly and kisses you again, slower this time, deeper. The kind of kiss that makes time stretch. His hand slips beneath the hem of your shirt, fingertips tracing lazy lines over your skin, warm enough to make you shiver.

“You’re cold,” he notes quietly.

“Mm, maybe you should fix that.”

He hums in agreement and shifts closer, pressing you into the bed as his forehead rests against yours. His thumb brushes over your collarbone, then lower, unhurried — teasing on purpose. Johnny has always loved taking his time with you, loved the way you react when he’s patient instead of rushed.

“You do this thing,” he says softly, almost fond. “Where you pretend you’re not affected.”

“And you do this thing where you call me out,” you reply.

He grins and kisses the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, then your neck. Each kiss is deliberate, lingering, like he’s memorizing you all over again. Your hands slide up his back, feeling the familiar strength there, grounding and reassuring.

The room feels smaller now. Warmer.

The sounds of the dorm fade away until it’s just breathing and quiet laughter and the rustle of sheets as he shifts closer.

He smiles — soft, real — and presses another kiss to your lips, one hand cradling your face as the other stays at your waist, anchoring you there with him.

Johnny’s kiss deepens, slow but intent, like he’s making a decision and committing to it fully. His hand slides from your waist to your thigh, thumb brushing back and forth in a way that makes your breath catch immediately.

“There it is,” he murmurs, smiling against your mouth. “That little gasp. Every time.”

You push at his shoulder lightly. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you love me,” he replies easily, kissing you again before you can argue.

He shifts, settling more comfortably between your legs, his weight solid and grounding. You can feel the warmth of him everywhere now — the press of his chest, his thigh nudging yours apart, the way his body fits against yours like it always has.

Like it always will.

Your fingers curl into his shirt, tugging him closer. He hums softly, hands roaming with slow confidence, touching you like he has all the time in the world. When his palm finally presses more firmly against you, you exhale his name without meaning to.

Johnny stills just slightly. “Hey,” he says gently, forehead resting against yours. “Look at me.”

You do.

His eyes soften instantly. “You good?”

You nod. “More than good.”

That’s all he needs.

He kisses you again — deeper, warmer — and the bed creaks quietly as he shifts, the blankets tangling around your legs. His touch grows surer, more purposeful, but never rushed. Everything about him says I want you, not I need to take.

Your hands slide under his shirt this time, palms smoothing over his stomach, up his back. He shivers at the contact, a soft laugh escaping him.

“Fair warning,” he says quietly, breath warm against your ear, “you keep doing that and I’m not gonna be very focused.”

“Weren’t you supposed to be studying anyway?” you tease.

He presses a kiss to your neck, smiling. “You’re a menace.”

The room feels impossibly warm now, filled with soft sounds — breathing, fabric shifting, the occasional quiet laugh when you bump elbows or knock knees. Johnny moves with you, guiding without forcing, making sure you’re right there with him every step of the way.

When you finally come together fully, it’s unhurried and close — more about the way he holds you than anything else. His forehead rests against yours, noses brushing, breaths mingling as he moves slowly, deliberately, like he’s savoring every second.

“God,” he whispers, barely audible. “I love you.”

The words settle into your chest, heavy and warm.

Your fingers tighten at his back, grounding him as much as he grounds you. The rhythm between you builds naturally, easy and familiar, until the world narrows to nothing but the two of you — the way he murmurs your name, the way you smile when he kisses your cheek mid-motion, the way it all feels safe and right.

When it’s over, Johnny doesn’t pull away.

He collapses beside you instead, tugging you into his chest immediately, arm draped over your waist like it belongs there. His fingers trace absentminded patterns against your side, slow and soothing.

“You okay?” he asks quietly, voice soft with affection.

You smile against him. “Yeah. Perfect.”

He presses a kiss into your hair, already half-asleep. “Good. Stay here with me.”

You shift closer, legs tangled with his, heart steady.

“I wasn’t planning on leaving,” you murmur.

And wrapped up in him, in his dorm room, with the world quiet outside — you don’t.

Can you write something about reader doing the "current boyfriend" trend with Johnny Kavanagh

Thank you in advance!!!

NOTE — ahh yesyes i love this trend i think it’s so funny

PAIRING — bf!johnny kavanagh x gf!reader

SUMMARY — you try doing the ’current boyfriend’ tiktok trend on johnny

recently, you’d been seeing the same trend on tiktok again and again. where girls will be making a video with their boyfriend and calling him their “current boyfriend”.

one thing about you? you’ll take any chance to mess with your boyfriend.

one day, when the ’manor’ was empty while you and johnny were hanging out, you decided it was time. you tried to stand up from the couch with the excuse of needing water, but johnny ruined that plan by shooting up to get it for you.

“can’t have you getting your own water in my house.” he scoffed as he walked into the kitchen.

“johnny, i’m perfectly grand getting my own water.” you sighed, pulling out your camera to record. the video began just as johnny reentered the sitting room.

“i just saw a trend where girls have their boyfriend’s answer questions about them, will you?” you asked while johnny was still stood over you, water in hand.

he looked throughly confused, but agreed.

you grinned, facing back to the camera. johnny smiled, still having that cute confused pout and deep brows on his face.

he sat down close to you, mindlessly throwing a loose arm around your waist.

“hey guys! today i will be asking my current boyfriend questions about me.” you said, making sure to not emphasize the current.

johnny’s head snapped up from the camera, now looking you in the eye. his eyes widened as he grabbed you by your head, a loose cup around your mouth—playful, while still very gentle.

“jaysus. current boyfriend? current?” he pulled you back on to his lap, careful to not pull you too hard. you playfully screamed, instinctively grabbing his arms. “baby, we’re in this for the long game. you’re stuck with me.”

you squirmed, but it wasn’t because you felt uncomfortable or unsafe, you just get overreactant when you’re around johnny.

whether you were excited, happy, nervous, horny, it was all amplified around him.

“johnny!” your muffled squeal of his name only spurred him on, because he leaned down to your face and kissed your forehead.

“stuck with me.” he whispered against you hairline, phone and video long forgotten. “okay?”

you nodded, smiled contentedly, a small blush on your face as you realized what he was really saying. he wasn’t doing it for the video, he meant it for real.

he wasn’t ever leaving you.

and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

hours after editing and posting the video, you wanted to see what the comments looked like.

some, you expected.

“johnny fucking kavanagh with some random ass girl?”

“omg johnny!”

“johnny’s random side quest hello?”

they weren’t all meant to be rude, but it was one of the reasons you posted johnny as little as you did. he was borderline famous for his rugby, so many people watched the video for him, disregarding you completely.

that part didn’t bother you as much as feeling like you were using johnny for views.

there were comments like that, that made you question yourself.

you knew well that you weren’t. you didn’t care about the views, but you wanted to show off your boyfriend. you even told johnny how you felt about it and he reassured you he knew.

but it still felt off.

there were other comments too, that made you smile.

“that girl is soooo pretty”

“i love when hot people date each other”

“who cares about a man, look at HER!”

johnny watched you read them, carefully paying attention to when the upsetting comments outweighed the good ones.

“y/n, come here.” johnny said, breaking the silence and taking you out of your self-deprecating thoughts. he motioned to his lap, to which you swung a leg over, straddling him.

you raised one brow, feigning nonchalance. like you weren’t upset moments ago. like having him so under you didn’t make you so comfortable and so excited at the same time.

“what?” you asked after he just stared at you for a solid minute, smiling.

he leaned forward, catching your lips in an all-too reassuring and firm kiss. “i love the shite out of you. you know that, right?”

you smiled and nodded, unable to speak or wipe the cheeky smile off of your face.

“you’re my forever boyfriend, johnny.”

he scoffed, “i’ll put a bleeding ring on ya eventually!” smoothing his hand over the small of your back, the other, a firm grip on your thigh.

you laughed, hiding your face in his neck.

you two sat there, happy and comfortable. he would give an occasional rub on your back, and you would kiss his neck in return.

nothing sexual, just purely content together.

“i love the shite out of you too, johnny.” you whispered, feeling your chest swell with love.

pairing: bf!johnny x tease gf!reader cw: DADDY KINK beware, fingering, unprotected p in v, allusions to 'punishment'. summary: johnny and you have the wonderful, yet rare occurence of being left alone in the kavanagh manor. what else could you get up to?

you looked like a fucking vision.

legs bare, cheeks flushed a pretty pink, and johnny’s hoodie just covering the curve of your ass. it was like you were trying to kill him without lifting a finger.

and he would let you, happily.

“you okay?” you asked softly, tilting your head. “looks like you’re gonna combust.”

“maybe i will,” johnny muttered, his hand sliding under the hem of your hoodie, fingers brushing warm skin. “what a way to go, huh?”

you laughed, a little breathless from the tension that had been building. edel and john were out of the house, so it was empty for the first time in ages. the silence was sacred, the tension lethal.

you were under johnny’s large body in seconds, both your hands wandering with restless pressure.

“off.” johnny said, tugging gently at the hoodie.

“i recall you saying you never wanted me to take it off,” you teased, lips brushing his ear.

he groaned. “don’t test me, baby.”

and maybe you were testing him, but you didn’t push back again. you just let him guide you to straddle his lap, legs bracketing his hips and your hands in his hair.

every movement was savoured. they’d done it before countless times but something about this moment made everything feel slower and heavier. johnny kissed you like he was starved, and you kissed back like he was something worth being starved for.

your hips began to move—slow, experimentally—grinding yourself against the outline in his joggers, and his head tipped back with a muttered curse

“hm?” you murmured, smoothing over his chest, and trailing feather-light kisses down his jaw. “what’s wrong, johnny?”

his grip on her waist tightened to an almost painful extent. “keep talkin’ like that and you’re gonna make me embarrass myself.”

“maybe i want you too.” your voice was soft now, almost dangerous.

johnny reached for your thighs, squeezing as a way to ground himself. but there wasn’t any use. he was already far gone.

you rolled your hips again, and again, your breath hitching. “you feel so good,” you whispered, eyes squeezing shut.

and then—

“you like when i ride you like this, daddy?”

it was probably just from the heat of the moment, something that just slipped. but, still every muscle in johnny’s body slowed to an abrupt stop. his eyes snapped open, jaw slack,

“fuck…” he hissed, hands flying to her exposed hips. “say that again.”

your lashes fluttered, lips tugging into a smirk. “daddy?”

that ruined me. you were flipped under him in one second, catching your gasp and bottom lip in his mouth.

“johnny,” you whimpered under him, legs trembling around his hips.

“no.” he muttered, dragging his teeth down her neck. “that’s not what you called me before, baby.”

you bit your lip, eyes turning glassy as you flushed all over. “you want me to say it again?”

“yeah,” he breathed. “you know i do.”

johnny’s hand slid between them, fingers trailing down the inside of her thigh, slow and teasing. a beautiful sound ripped from your lips when he reached the spot that always drove you mad. your hips lifted, chasing more of this feeling.

“jaysus, you’re so wet for me, baby. look at you.”

you moaned, nails digging crescents into his broad shoulders. “only you make me like this.” a higher sound escaped when two thick digits entered your wet heat.

he curled his fingers just right, watching how perfectly you reacted—body arching and jerking. “say. it. again.” he growled,

you squirmed beneath him, breath stuttering. you were trying not to give him too much control, to hold back.

johnny rolled his lips in his mouth, pulling his fingers free just to slide them slowly into his own mouth, humming at the taste of you on his tongue.

your eyes almost bulged out of your head, body moving subconsciously to be closer to him. and then, right in his trap you whispered, “…daddy.”

fuck.

johnny’s control was fully shattered. his brain wasn’t functioning. there was no more waiting for him. he grasped your thighs, snapping your hips to meet his and sank in so deep they both stopped breathing.

“oh my god—“ you practically squealed, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

he didn’t give her a second to adjust. just demanded, “who do you belong to, baby?”

“you!” you managed to choke out. “you, daddy.”

johnny moved faster, harder, their bodies tangling and every inch of their skin pressed against eachother. the hoodie was bunched around your waist now, falling to expose her collarbone.

“you’re so good for me,” he groaned, pulling out all the way to slam it into your tight hole. “feels so fuckin’ perfect. you’re my girl.”

your eyes opened at that, softening. “am i?”

“yeah,” johnny rasped. “you’re my good girl. always.”

”then let me come,” you whispered, biting your already swollen lip. “please, daddy. i’ve been good.”

holy. fucking. hell.

he couldn’t even answer, just snaked his hand between them to your bundle of nerves and circled it rapidly. giving his girl exactly what he wanted.

you shattered around him seconds later—shaking, crying out his name like a prayer. ‘god’ and ‘johnny’ were starting to have the same meaning and used in conjunction in sentences.

he didn’t last much longer, painting your insides white with a guttural groan. “holy fuck.”

you curled into his side, still in his hoodie, still looking smug.

“so…” you said, dragging a finger across the ridges of your chest. “‘daddy’, huh?”

johnny groaned, placing an arm over his eyes. “don’t start, baby,”

“what?” you giggled, pulling yourself closer and propping your chin on his shoulder. “i’m just saying it’s kinda a bold move. not totally unexpected but…”

he turned his head to face her, one brow raised. “you said it first.”

“and you told me to. happen to be very persuasive.”

“you were pretty eager.”

you laughed. “i think you nearly passed out when i said it.”

johnny sat up slowly, looming over her. “you liked being called a good girl, though.”

your eyes widened, lips parting but you couldn’t retort.

“mmm. yeah, you do,” he’d caught you.

johnny smoothed a hand down your bare thigh, slow and intimate. you shifted, overstimulated and too easy to rile up.

“keep giving me lip,” he murmured, leaning in and brushing his nose against yours. “and i’ll make you say it again.”

“what if i want to say it again.”

he smirked, tutting. “brat.”

you grinned. “you love it.”

“oh, i do.” johnny nodded, voice dropping to something dangerous. “but brats get punished.”

your mouth opened, but before you could counter, he grabbed your waist and rolled you under him again. grinning when you giggled. “johnny!”

”nuh-uh. wrong, baby.”

your breath caught, heartbeat stuttering

“try again.”

your lashes batted, biting your lip. “daddy?”

“there’s my girl.” he murmured, low in your ear.

lie on me

synopsis: your day goes from bad to worse when you unexpectedly get your period.

pairing: johnny kavanagh x reader

warnings: reader on her period. period pain, cramps, bleeding through clothes. kavanagh parents make an appearance. cuddling. fluffy ending. written with fem!reader in mind.

author’s note: a longer one, enjoy. also not so subtly snuck in edel and john because they’re my tried and true. photos i use are not in any way descriptive of reader, only descriptive of the scenario.

word count: 2.0k

────────────────────────

if the constant cramps in your abdomen weren’t a sign, you didn’t know what was.

your goddamn period on this most beautiful school day filled with rowdy teenagers and a persistent, pulsating headache. 

by the time lunch rolled around, you were completely checked out, not eating nor studying for your upcoming quiz in biology. 

“baby,” broken out of your stupor by johnny. 

considerate, caring, beautiful. johnny. 

— you NEVER know what someone else is experiencing

— your actions do not define you

— your hardships do not justify your actions

— everyone has their own struggles and traumas

CROSSING LINES- Patrick Feely

Warnings- absolutely zero, just Patrick Feely my man in all his glory🌟

A/n- I am SO SORRY I’ve been away for so long, I’ve started a new job and I’ve been so busy. I’ve also tried doing pictures and a bigger title so please let me know if it looks good??? Also let me know what you think of the story ofc, thanks besties xxxxx

Patrick Feely had always hated the rain.

Not because it soaked through his school blazer or turned the roads of Cork into rivers of muck and puddles, but because rain meant thinking too much. Rain meant long walks home with nothing but his own thoughts and the sharp ache in his chest he never talked about.

And lately, all he could think about was you.

You and Patrick had been best friends since the age of 12 years old when you both joined Tommen.

The girl who sat beside him at the back of chemistry because she was the only one who could read his awful handwriting.

The girl who stole chips off his tray at lunch and wore his hoodies without asking.

The girl who had become so woven into his life that Patrick genuinely didn’t know where he ended and she began.

Which was exactly the problem.

Stood at the lockers in school with his friends around him, Patrick felt a sense of unease, he knew it was because he hadn’t seen you walk through the school doors yet.

The school corridors were buzzing with students bustling by, going about their own days. Taking no notice of them, Patrick kept his eye trained on the door.

“Jesus, Feely,” Gibsie said around a mouthful of crisps, “you’re staring holes through the entrance.”

Patrick shoved him lightly. “Am not.”

“You are.”

“Shut up.”

Gibsie grinned. “Waiting for your wife?”

“She’s not my wife.”

“Yet,” Hughie muttered.

Patrick flipped both of them off.

Then the doors burst open, letting in a gust of cold October wind and you stumbled in, laughing breathlessly as you were fighting with your umbrella.

“There she is,” Gibsie sang.

Patrick ignored him, taking no notice

Because you looked freezing and he hated it.

Cheeks were pink from the cold, dark curls damp around your shoulders, tie hanging loose around your neck. Spotting Patrick instantly caused your face to light up in a way that always did strange things to his chest.

“There you are,” you said, marching over. “Your mother made those scones again, didn’t she?”

Patrick blinked. “Hello to you too.”

“Do you have them?”

He sighed dramatically and reached into his bag. “You only love me for baked goods.”

Snatching the container from him with a victorious grin you answered. “Correct.”

The boys around them groaned.

“That’s romance if I’ve ever seen it,” Gibsie muttered.

You rolled your eyes and leaned against Patrick’s shoulder while opening the container.

And there it was again.

That feeling.

Warm.

Patrick swallowed hard.

Later that night, after Patrick had spent all day trying to keep you warm after your lips had started turning blue in first lesson. You both lay on his bedroom floor surrounded by books that weren’t being read.

Music played softly from Patrick’s stereo.

Patrick’s arms had your calf resting in them as he was strumming against your leg like it was his guitar

Looking back at him giggling, you turn back round and carry on doodling in your notebook, when a thought came to mind.

“You ever think about leaving Cork?” You thought out loud

Patrick looked over. “Where would I go?”

“Anywhere.”

He shrugged. “Never really thought about it.”

“I want to see everything.”

“You hate flying.”

“I know but still”

Patrick smiled faintly.

He knew that you always dreamed bigger than everyone else . Bigger than their town. Bigger than expectations.

He admired that about you.

However, it did bring fear to him as well, he realised that one day you might discover your worth and grow out of Cork, leaving him on his dads farm with all his aspirations in the mud.

“You’d come visit me, though?” You added quickly, hating how much your voice shook with worry.

He looked at you then, as you had finally took your leg from his hands and turned to face him, legs crossed .

He looked into your eyes, taking in all features of your face like it was the last time he’ll ever see it

Taking in all the freckles scattered over your nose and cheeks

At the softness in your eyes

At the way you trusted him completely.

“Always,” he said roughly.

Something shifted in the room. You felt it as well as you felt your smile falter a little. The silence was stretched and too long to feel comfortable.

Patrick’s pulse thudded painfully in his chest.

Sitting up abruptly you decided to put and end to the awkward silence, not liking the places your brain was taking you to during it.

“Right,” you announced too brightly, “I’m starving.”

And the moment disappeared.

Things changed after Christmas. It was a subtle change at first, it wouldn’t be noticeable to the outside eye, but to the two in the friendship the change was unbelievably drastic.

Patrick became hyperaware of every touch, every glance that landed on him from across the classroom during school. Every time you curled up against him during your weekly movie night.

He didn’t realise you felt the same, deliberately stealing his hoodies, not because you were ‘cold’ but because you loved the smell of them. It reminded you of him.

Patrick even began to feel fire at the pit of his belly when you spoke to any other boys.

When you started talking to Darren Murphy from sixth year, Patrick nearly lost his mind.

“He asked me to the social,” you said to Patrick one afternoon while you both sat outside near the rugby pitch.

Patrick forced himself to sound normal.

“Did he?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s…good.”

You frowned slightly. “You don’t sound excited.”

“I am”

“You hate Darren don’t you”

“I don’t hate him” he huffed

Patrick absolutely hated him.

Studying him carefully you gently added “you’re acting strange Pa”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

He stood abruptly. “I’ve got training.”

“Patrick—”

“I’ll see you later.”

He walked away before you got the chance to stop him.

Because if he didn’t walk away that moment in time he realised he may have said something he didn’t want to just yet.

Such as don’t go with him.

Such as I’m in love with you and it’s ruining me.

The winter social was absolute torture.

Patrick stood near the gym wall in a shirt that suddenly felt too tight around the throat while watching you dance with Darren beneath flashing lights.

Gibsie winced beside him. “Mate.”

“I’m fine.”

“You look homicidal.”

Patrick dragged a hand through his hair.

A familiar laughter shot through the air, and Patrick felt irrational fury claw through him.

He looked over and noticed Darren’s hand was resting on your waist.

He couldn’t believe the utter jealousy that was coursing through his veins at this moment.

“You should tell her” he heard a voice come from next to him, the voice belonging to his close friend Hugh Biggs

Patrick scoffed. “And ruin everything?”

“Maybe you already are.” Hugh added with a shrug

That hit harder than Patrick expected.

Before he could answer, you looked across the crowded gym.

Straight at him.

And suddenly the smile wasn’t on your face anymore.

Twenty minutes later you walked out the front of the hall for some air.

Patrick stood beneath the covered entrance, rain hammering the pavement beyond, a puff of smoke blew out of his mouth as you caught a glimpse of the cigarette in his hand. Glassy eyes looking out into the distance, he hadn’t realised you were there yet.

“You left,” you said softly.

He shrugged.

“Patrick.”

“What?”

“Talk to me” you sighed “please”

He laughed bitterly. “About what?”

“Whatever’s going on with you lately.”

He stayed silent.

You took a tentative step closer. “Did I do something wrong?”

That nearly broke him.

“No,” he said immediately. “Jesus, no.”

“Then what is it?”

Patrick looked away, because he couldn’t pluck up the courage to say it, couldn’t survive the thought of hearing she didn’t feel the same

You had known him for too long to know this wasn’t about nothing, taking a step towards him and placing yourself directly infront of him, slotting yourself in between his knees.

“Look at me Pa, please” you softly begged.

He did.

Big mistake.

Taking one look into your eyes just about broke Patrick, they were so soft and full of emotion, the one emotion coming to the forefront was worry.

“I miss you” was the most painful three words that could have come out of your mouth, they cut Patrick so deep. “You’ve been pulling away from me for weeks now” you sighed.

Patrick’s throat tightened.

“I’m trying not to.”

“Why?”

Patrick exhaled shakily. “Because I can’t watch you fall for somebody else.”

You froze, at the exact same time a crack of thunder shot out above the both of you, none of you two moved a muscle, staring into the others eyes

“What?” You whispered.

He laughed once, miserable. “There it is.”

“Patrick…” you breathed out

“I’m sorry, alright? I never meant for this to happen.”

Your expression changed then. Not horror or pity or any of the other emotions Patrick expected to flash across your face when he told you, instead it was something positive, something hopeful

“You idiot” you breathed out, hitting him on the shoulder

Patrick frowned. “What?”

You stepped closer until your legs were fully nestled into his and your bodies were so close he had no choice but to stare up directly into your eyes.

“You really don’t know?” You asked causing his heart to pound violently.

“Know what?”

“That I’ve been in love with you since second year”

Everything stopped. Patrick just stared at you, almost as if he was waiting for you to say you were joking, or for his friends to jump out and start laughing like this was all one big prank.

Shaking your head and laughing nervously you added “I thought you knew. Everyone else seemed to.”

Patrick sighed, a mixed between content and confusion

“You’re the person I look for first in every room,” she whispered. “You’re my favorite part of every day.”

Patrick felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“You’re serious?”

She rolled her eyes watery-eyed. “No, Patrick, I came out into freezing rain for a laugh.”

And suddenly he was smiling. Really smiling, from ear to ear for what felt like the first time in forever.

Then you reached up slowly, fingertips brushing his jaw and Patrick swore he felt like he might burst into flames on the spot, no matter how much rain was pouring down.

“If you don’t kiss me now,” you murmured, “I might actually scream.”

Patrick didn’t hesitate again.

He kissed her hard and desperate beneath the stormy Cork sky, one hand cradling the back of her neck while she clung to his shirt

And the strange thing was it didn’t feel new or like they had to get used to it, it felt inevitable. Like every moment of their friendship had slowly but surely led them to this moment.

You pulled back and took the time to really take a deep look into Patrick’s eyes which were swimming with yearning and love.

“Took you long enough,” you whispered.

Patrick laughed softly, still stunned.

“I was terrified.”

“Of me?”

“Of losing you.”

Your expression softened instantly.

“You never will.”