#gibsie

But I’ve recently read binding 13, keeping 13 and halfway through saving 6.

Anyways I would absolutely adore a boys of Tommen roleplay. Please feel free to interact with this post or message me if you’re interested.

Or add my discord .baby3

The Dee stuff DOES get acknowledged in Taming 7, don’t worry. And yeah, Johnny talking about only being intimate older women (including women way too old) definitely rubbed me the wrong way in Keeping 13, but I do think it is acknowledged as a bad thing. Johnny doesn’t see it as bad, not at first, but we do see him kind of realising it was messed up (when he tells Gibs abt how messed up Gibs and Dee was — I think in Taming 7??)

I just finished taming 7….

I feel empty and I need their second book asap!

I think the friendship of Johnny and Gibsie was so beautifully displayed here and his emotions wrecked me.

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.”

gerard gibson x kavanagh!reader m.list