#patrick feely x reader

i really hope this reaches the right audience bc we need more BOTs content on this site im obsessed with them includes johnny, gibs, joey, pat, and hugh

(SMUT)

IN WHICH, patrick feely simply wants to hear about your day with zero interruptions or pauses

TW/THEMES, fingering, cuss words

₊˚ ✧ ━━━ ━━━ ━━⊱⋆⊰━━ ━━━ ━━━ ✧ ₊˚

℘atrick feely situates upon the freshly washed lace trim bedsheets adorning his girls notoriously soft n’ cozy room, legs gently splayed out, head resting lazily against the oak plated headframe. indolently solidated within that calm solation of bliss, the ooey gooey kind in which seemed to leave his eyes filtrated within that gentle awe coaxed from the simple daze of your presence.

with his girl hopelessly clung onto his lap, reinforming him on all of the meaningless copious amounts of drama of the day?

hell, bliss barely even began to cover the mere quarter of what he felt when he was with you. loudly exclaimed remembrances of the days occurrences or otherwise.

the sable haired lad hadnt spoken within the last five minutes, or verbally, at least. though, his thumbs trace mindless patterns along the skin teasingly poking out upon your hips, the occasional hum & mumble of recognition or acknowledgement flowing from those pretty rouge tinted lips of his showcased the notion that his attention was soley on you.

it was always on you, consciously aware to you or otherwise.

''and then, get this, pa. this is where it gets strange''

you giggle, your fingers gently wrapping around his wrist, thumb briefly caressing the skin above his wrist, a nonverbal plea of continuation for his touch, enough to make his breath hitch ever so lightly.

okay, maybe he wasnt fully conceptualizing your words anymore.

he hums, tilting his head ever so lightly towards the left degree, eyes roaming along your expression, taking in every gorgeous fraction within a precision that screamed you no longer held his full attention.

well. your words didnt, anyhow.

you continue rambling, informing him on one of several run ins your mutual friend lizzie young retained with notorious snake bella wilkinson, outlining the bitter, almost comically cruel words shared between the pair, unbenknownst to his mental gawking and the drifting of attention, blissfully ignorant towards the most innocent formats.

he knows this, the boy knows you like the back of his hand. one lingering touch is all it takes, and boy, is he more than willing to use it towards his own advantage.

''i reckon lizzie proper scared 'er, she froze up the second the C word left ‘er lips. but i dunno if it were shock, maybe? or surely it wouldve been sheer an-''

you begin to ramble on, though your words end prematurely within the reasoning of feeling patricks delicously calloused fingertips smoothing up and down the soft skin of your pretty bare thighs, inching higher upon each drawl like the teasing little shite he is.

and just like that? your thoughts had dicipated out the window almost immediately. your cheeks flushed within that fair shade of pink that had always made patricks heart race within a smug haughtiness, physicalising within an equally as smug smirk coating that teasingly gorgeous mouth of his.

and smugly smirking he indeed was.

“hm, wouldve been what, pretty?”

he teases, ridiculed within feigned innocence, head tilted & eyebrows gently furrowed to proclaim the act furthermore.

though the way his hand slipped underneath the plaid fabric of your skirt, paired with the tantalising smirk still stubbornly glazed upon his lips showcased he was anything but innocent.

after all, innocence & patrick feely never seemed to work hand in hand.

your eyes sheepishly slide away from his gaze as you bite down on your lower lip, swallowing a choked breath within its hold as you attempt to ground yourself, desperately linking what you were priorly speaking about.

lizzie. bella. right

“oh! um….. anger? i dont know, but, what i do know, is she ran off sulkin’ ‘bout lizzie bein’ a supposed bitch, dumb scowl on her face an’ all”

you manage to speak as you slowly regain your bearings, nodding perhaps too hastily as you recall the moment.

only for his skilled hands to slither higher. higher. and higher. teasingly creeping up an inch, another inch, and another. high enough that his finger managed to gently trace the outline of lace outlining your panties, the soft pink delicate against his calloused skin, working a delicious contrast.

the noise that escaped from your parted lips was immediate, practically inevitable, really. his tone was pure sin, all husk & smug knowing, his hands only adding the illicit cherry ontop.

it was bound to happen. and this was a fact the boy cherished entirely.

silence flows through the air for a beat or two, your eyes still glancing away from his own, knowing you wouldnt be able to keep your cheeks less than rosy if you met those sultry eyes.

again, it was inevitable. and you werent interested in giving in just yet.

“cmon, baby. keep talkin’”

he lowly coos within a soft husk, his firm hands softly gripping the duo of your thighs, leaning all the more closer, enough so his nose gently bumped against your own, a far cry of an accidental touch.

“or has the cat got y’ tongue?”

he smirks, his tone smug & as knowing as ever, cementing the fact that he knew he had you within the palm of his hand, a pile of puddy at that.

you shake your head, slowly, revertently. lips parted & cheeks flushed within that pretty shade of pink patrick adored. you were so visibly flushed from his tone alone, and that only made the boy all the more satisfied.

“then keep goin’, baby. don’t let me stop you”

he quips, leaning back against the headboard, smirk still as stubborn as ever, eyes gleaming of that belly tingling mischief they always had seemed to hold within such arrangements.

he wasnt finished, it was only the beginning.

“um, well. i think, after that, lizzie called er’ a skank as she trotted off, stuck up the finger t’ ‘er backside”

you continue, sheepishly so than prior, still clearly dazed from what was happening, despite his wandering hands halting, you knew it was only for the time being.

and like clockwork, they began once more the second you resumed your storytelling.

“an’, an’ then, bella..”

you begin to speak, your words falling of within a shaky gasp as his fingers move downwards, closer, calloused fingertips teasingly tracing along the dampened edges of where you needed him most.

god, where he needed you most.

he raises his eyebrows as your words still within the air, nonverbally conveying distaste, awaiting for you to presume as his fingers mirror the plea, halting within their entirety.

you began to understand the game he was beginning to orchestrate, and you werent exactly sure if it wanted to make you whine & beg or kiss him all the more.

“bella, just.. just threw the bird back over ‘er s-shoulder”

you breathe out, words inevitably shaky, almost gasped within a sense.

“mmm, then what?”

he whispers, low & sultry, knowing exactly the maddening game he was so carefully crafting, his fingers still soothing gentle, feather light traces along the middle of your panty clad core, the touch barely physical, though more than enough to make you shiver and gasp underneath his touch.

you simply shake your head within response, biting down on your lower lip as you scoot all the more closer, desperately seeking that sweet friction he was teasingly on the brink of providing, though far too dazed to say it aloud.

or, hell, any words aloud, for the manner.

his fingers halt again, causing a soft, involuntary whine to slip from your lips, beginning to understand this game he was orchestrating far too well.

you speak, his hands continue to move just within the way you wanted.

your words halt? his hands halt alongside it.

simple, teasing, smug. and so unbelievably patrick.

“nah uh, pretty girl. keep tellin’ y’story”

he murmurs lowly, fingers resting upon the hem of your panties.

still, far too still for your liking.

hell, even his own liking, if were being completely honest.

but he was a stubborn boy whom found simple enjoyment out of watching you squirm & beg for his touch, he couldn’t seem to help himself.

it took a couple seconds for you to regain your thoughts, the silence between you brief, but inherently palpable. you resume your storytelling, slowly incorporating back into the part in which lizzie had seemingly disppeared for hours, only to magically reappear with Hughie before the final bell could ring.

and on cue, his illicit fingers recommence their teasing diversion.

''mm, there we go”

he husks as his calloused index digit finally dips underneath the restricting fabric of those god forsaken panties, seeming to oppose against the smug restriction hed outcasted upon you both within the last degree.

though, your mind seemingly breaks against his teasing charade the second his fingers slide into your soaked folds, a shaky gasp falling from your now parted lips, forehead gently thunking against his shoulder due to the haze he’d created.

you shake your head, swallowing an inevitably choked breath, working up the mental capacity to even formulate words.

and thats when his fingers stop. yet again, to your demise.

“pa, baby, please. y’know i go dumb when y’touch me like this”

you whine, peering up at him through the eyelashes of your half lidded, hazy eyes, a soft pout glazing those needy lips of yours.

he smirks at that, of course he does. theres nothing patrick feely loves more than seeing his girl in his lap, all needy & squirmy for him.

“i just wanna hear about your day, pretty girl”

he lowly coo’s within that velvet husk, mirroring your pout, though within an almost taunting sense, knowing exactly what he was doing to you.

“s’that such a hard thing to ask for?”

he asks within feigned innocence, putting on his best case of indifference, though knowing youd be able to see through it.

you shake your head within a shaky huff, arms looping around his shoulder as you nuzzle yourself deeper into his neck, almost to hide away from his teasing lit.

his fingers reigned stubbornly still, causing your brows to furrow as deep as possible, something you were thankful he couldnt seem to see due to you being nuzzled so close against him.

but you knew he could practically feel it. he knew your mannerisms & reactions like the back of your hand.

“a-after that, i jus’ went back t’class, i texted lizzie, but she didnt respond, as expe- oh.”

you begin to inform, though your words prematurely end within the form of a shaky moan, timed within perfect precision as patricks fingers finally give you the friction you so desperately craved, slowly spreading you open with his index and middle finger, your hips lightly bucking into the touch as a result.

“wasnt so hard, was it, huh, baby?”

he grins, the satisfied lit coaxing his tongue within the most maddening way possible, enough to cause your walls to gently flutter around him.

teasing little shite knew it was hard. so hard that impossible felt as if it were a well endowed understatement of the century.

you shake your head, mumbling a breathy “no” within response, though apart of you estimated that the simple murmured disagreement wasn’t enough for him.

he needed more. he always needed more.

as if on cue, his fingers halt their motion inside you, lips dropping to gently graze over the tender shell of your ear, tone dropping low & hoarse as he indiscrepently whispers,

“keep going or ill stop.”

stern, serious. far too serious for your liking.

you knew he wasnt bluffing, and god, you didnt even want to consider rebelling against him by testing it.

“i went t’class, uhm, home economics, with gibs”

you nod, desperately attempting to outline the remembrances of the day accurately, though the task felt unachievable within the circumstances. his words spoken against the shell of your ear doing no favours what so ever.

“mm, an’ what happened in home ec, pretty?”

he casually questions as if his fingers hadnt resumed their motions, dragging slow, torturous thrusts up and down those silky walls of yours, not giving you the speed in which he knew you desperately craved.

“me an’, an’… gibs made some chilli thing, i couldnt tell ya what on earth it was supposed t’be”

you begin to slowly retell, your breath hitching as his fingers finally pick up the pace, earning a shaky moan to leave your parted lips.

that was all it took for your mind to grow hazy again, but the idea of halting your words, him halting the movements of those blessed fingers felt like the worst possible outcome, you knew you simply had no other option but to keep filling the silence.

“everyone else had s-some red coloured dish in their pot, ours was orange, then managed t’turn brown by the-“

you outline, though your whole body jolts as his fingertips crook upwards, beginning to target the spongey space within you that had lurged you to see stars, each and everytime.

“ohmygod, pa-“

you gasp out, earning a shaky chuckle of awe to fall from the boys lips, his free hand travelling into the back of your silky locks, gently tugging you towards his own eye level.

“shh, i know, baby. keep goin’ f’me”

he purrs as he keeps up the maddening caress, though adding in another enticer as his lips begin to suck & kiss pretty shades along your neck, simultaneously marking & worshipping your body.

you nod within a shaky breath, your eyes rolling back as yet another moan falls from your seemingly permanent o shaped lips, swallowing harshly before resuming the god forsaken chilli tale once more,

“w-was supposed ta’ have cubed carrots, but g-gibs tried t’cut them int-, into heart shapes, h-he ended up cuttin’ his finger an’ gettin’ em all bloody s-so we had t’throw em’ all out”

you retell, though not without a plea of gasps & shaky breaths ruining the storytelling, the way in which your thighs begin to shake either side of his working fingers showcasing how far gone you were.

how little you could even consider caring about telling the story without paused breaths & shaky gasps.

he hums within response, the noise muffled against your neck as he picks up the pace once more, simply to see how much of a brainless mess he could formulate you into, how much he could seem to make you stumble on those strange words of yours.

it wasnt about stopping & starting anymore. it was simply about how easily he could make your words slur & make your mind blissfully blur together.

and god, was it working exactly how he’d planned.

your hands slide into the back of his dark locks, gently gripping as your forehead drops against his shoulder all over, though neck still gently arched for his consumption.

“g-god, pa, please don’ stop”

you cry out as his fingers crook ever so slightly deeper, causing the familar build of heat grow all the more harsher, all the more faster, practically consuming you all at once.

“not stoppin’, baby”

he husks out as his lips detach from your deliciously marked neck within a sharp pop!, meeting your gaze through his own half lidded one, smirk still as stubbornly strong as ever.

his lips capture your own within a messy kiss, his fingers working faster, reckless, causing your moans to muffle against his mouth within audacious abandon, just the way he liked.

your fingers grip harshly onto his hair as you feel the heat pillow faster, overwhelming the entirety of your lower belly, all before snapping within its full capacity, your body shuddering through harsh waves as patrick swallows each & every moan of yours, savouring it for himself.

his fingers continue to work you throughout your high, only seeming to gradually slow as your grip upon him grows lax, only halting all together as your forehead falls back against his shoulder within panted, wrecked breaths.

all needy and ruined. just how he liked you.

he slowly pulls his fingers out of you, taking them towards his lips before lapping your release up within a pleased hum, his eyes falling shut at the taste of you, something he’d grown far too addicted too.

his free hand makes its way back into your hair, gently twirling a thin strand around his fingertips, lips leaning close against your temple once he’d acquired his four course meal, pressing an inherently tender kiss upon the skin as he soaks you in.

“so s’ safe ta’ say you had a right good day, yeah?”

he teases, grinning down at you within cartoonist heart eyes of awe, though still as satisfied as ever within himself for coaxing you into such a needy flush.

“y’ a mean boy, pa”

you scoff within a sheepish giggle at his blatant teasing, shaking your head within an equal mix of fondness & amusement as your arms loop firmer around him, hiding yourself deeper into his skin.

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.”

꘩ 𝓟atrick 𝓕eely in — 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 ࿐ ⟡ ݁

note ⸝⸝⸝ it’s meant to be awkward.. someoje pray for me to finish my masterlist alr

summary ⸝⸝⸝ you catch feely in his natural habitat . . .

warnings ⸝⸝⸝ none?

one thing you’ll always fall for are farmboys. not all farmboys — obviously. just the certain ones who have that distinct, specific kind of charm. the soft ones. the kind that plays guitar and looks into your eyes while he does.

you’ve had a crush on patrick feely — the boy next door who visits his family’s farm from time to time. and every time he does, you fall all over again. it’s like he’s got this red string wrapped around you. his presence makes you feel safe. the way he helps you with chores outside, how one of you would “accidentally” brush fingers.

and this was one of those times. you heard your mum calling for you to come outside. you groaned, already knowing she probably wanted you to say hi to some distant relative you barely remember. not even bothering to change out of your superman pjs, you rub your eyes and walk toward the front door, wide open, and step onto the porch. and there she is, standing next to the guy you’ve quite literally been dreaming about for years.

they’re both standing outside, your mum’s smile wide, and patrick turns to look at you — eyes scanning you up and down. you snap out of your sleepy trance, realizing you’re wearing the worst possible outfit. your face burns with embarrassment as he smirks.

“now i’ll leave you two kids alone. and next time, dress more appropriately, sweetie,” your mum says, winking as she walks toward her car. your face flushes even more at her comment.

when your eyes flicker back to him, he’s still staring. “hey,” he says softly, walking up the porch stairs, closing the distance.

“hi, patrick,” you mumble, eyes darting away to avoid his.

“ya miss me?” he asks, leaning back against the porch railing, like he’s settling in.

“do i have to answer that question..?” you reply, tilting your head slightly. he chuckles, glancing at your pajamas again.

“ya know, i actually missed you and your strange outfits. only thing that makes me feel like i’m really home. comforts me in a way.”

you roll your eyes, giggling. “sure, feely. superman pjs are peak therapy,” you say sarcastically.

he grins, stepping a little closer. “‘m serious though. i missed ya.”

your heart pounds like it’s trying to break free from your chest. how can one boy throw off your whole heartbeat like that? is that normal?

you step back slightly, shaking your head. but before you can say anything, he clears his throat. “— well. i gotta get to work now, but i’ll see you later?” he asks, like he already knows the answer.

“obviously. my mum’s probably gonna make me bring you bottles of milk again, like always…”

he laughs, nods, and disappears down the porch steps, out of sight. suddenly the air feels thinner without him there. dramatic, maybe, but his presence just changes something in you. you glance down at your outfit one last time, then bolt inside to get ready for later.

your boots that were once shiny — are now caked with dirt and hay as you make your way toward feely’s barnhouse, carrying a box of glass-bottled milk.

when you step inside, your eyes immediately land on him. his arm wipes sweat from his forehead, muscles flexing as he finishes stacking hay. he grabs his water and gulps it down. you can’t help but smile — he looks exhausted, eyebrows drawn tight.

as you approach, his head turns, finally noticing you. his face softens instantly. he wipes his mouth and smiles. “what are ya doin here?”

“watchin feely in his natural habitat,” you say, holding up the bottles like a trophy. he takes one, and you set the rest down, wiping your hands on your jeans.

but his eyes don’t leave yours. he doesn’t even open the bottle, all his focus is on you. “false. ‘m natural habitat is being with ya.”

your eyes widen a little as he steps closer, gently setting the bottle down. his fingers brush yours, searching for something. your permission, maybe.

neither of you says a word. your fingers just slowly intertwine. your breathing syncs, the only sound between you two is the pounding of your hearts.

his free hand rises, landing on your jaw so gently. “i think i’ll die if i don’t kiss you right now,” he breathes.

“then do it,” you whisper, lips barely apart.

he leans in and kisses you — soft, slow, like time’s been waiting for this moment. your hand finds his face, the other still in his.

you both pull away just enough to catch your breath. “i’ve been waiting for that,” you whisper. “a while now.”

“and i’ve been waiting just to touch your hand since the day i met you,” he says, breathless. “i like you. more than i know how to say.”

“i like you too, feely. always will.”

he presses his forehead against yours, still holding you like you’re made of glass — like he’s afraid to let go of you.

“my boy next door.”

“my girl next door.”

all you can think right now is that thank god, for those milk bottles.

All credit to the amazing authors who wrote each fic

(This list is constantly being updated)

Outer Banks

Rafe Cameron

Stop biting

Moustache

Playing mermaids

Protective

Rafe just can’t stop kissing you

Shopping

Prank

Born to die

I won’t be able to pay my mortgage

Sluggy

Mindless accident

No one’s ever had me, not like you

Hold me down

Stranger things

Steve Harrington

Nobody’s son

Those days are over

You were never mine

Hell hath no fury

A man who yearns is a man who earns

Cupid Dustin series

He can’t see without his glasses!

Clingy

Embers between us

Needy

Boyfriend emergency

When does it become cheating Pt2

—> (Jonathan Byers x reader)

Billy Hargrove

And she’s sooo cool

A shoulder to lean on when things get tough

Slip N’ Slide

Bridgerton

Benedict Bridgerton

You bewitch me

Unwrapped

Suits

Harvey Specter

Late night serenity

Mike Ross

Speed dating my ass

High I love you

Acotar

Rhysand

Equals Pt2

You are my only truth

Bound in silence Pt2

Anything, Always

Percy Jackson

Percy Jackson

Angel eyes Pt2

Wednesday

Ajax Petropolus

Lessons from Nevermore

You and me, never us

Avengers

Bucky Barners

Honey

Peter Parker

Hey kiddos (AG)

Safe

House of the Dragon

Aerion Targaryen

The dragon and the lionesses Pt.2

Descendants

Ben Florian

For the crown Pt2

You’re all I need

I love you, I’m sorry

Hush!

Boys of Tommen

Johnny Kavanagh

Mr. Rugby and Ms. Tennis

That boy is mine

Patrick Feely

Crossing lines

Campus series

Garrett Graham

Breakfast soup

Heating pad & hockey boyfriend

Between sets

Fall into you Pt2

Kiss you

Dirty little secret

Off the clock

Dean Di Laurentis

It’s complicated Pt2 Pt3

Respect the kisses

His jersey

All this time

The rebound that became real too late

patrick feely x fem!reader

summery | it’s 2005 and you’re a student at tommen. you have a pretty “normal” teenage life..you have a big friend group.. a pretty good boyfriend, you go out to parties on the weekends, as if you’re living the teenage dream. Patrick was a great boyfriend, until he wasn’t. it started off as getting royally pissed at hughie’s parties.. to showing up drunk at school.. to not being able to go a day without drinking. and it showed. In the way he acted.. looked..it was as if he himself wasn’t in there anymore.

authors note !

i’m lowkey still really booty buns and writing fanfic but this is for my own sanity because i kid you not.. there’s like five total patrick feely x reader fics on tumblr and im sick of the smut.. NO HATE TO SMUT.. i just much rather read something less nsfw !! so yeah uh i don’t think this will be a amazing work of art but feel free to read or give suggestions on how to get my writing better !! there IS going to me grammer mistakes and the writing is terrible 😳

♬⋆.˚ The beach- The Neighbourhood

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The music was bouncing off the walls, You weren’t sure how Hughie never got noise complaints, but right now that was the least of your worries. You haven’t seen Patrick all night. He was supposed to be your ride home, you trusted him, not to drink until he passed out. He promised you that.

You hadn’t had much luck finding him. You already had a gut feeling that you would need to find another way home. And sure enough, you find Patrick passed out on the couch.

“seriously pat?”

you practically yell.. thanks to the music. he wouldn’t wake up and honestly, you were done with this. You lean down and shake him. After a bit He managed to groggily wake up. His eyes fluttering in a drunken daze. Now if it were any other, night you would’ve known better not to drink, But he promised so much. It really did look convincing, so you let your guard down and became the reckless teenager you’re supposed to be at 17. Now the both of you were drunk. Certainly you weren’t as drunk as patrick, But still not sober enough to drive the two of you home.

“what’s the problem?”

patrick said in a slight drink induced slur as he sat up in the couch.. looking as if the slight movement physically pained him. she scoffed as she looks at him

“the problem? The problem is that you promised me you weren’t going to get pissed, now look at you! I can’t trust you with anything patrick.”

He just looked up at me. As if trying to find the words, but couldn’t. He tried standing, but instantly flopped back down onto the couch. She looked at him, really looked at him for the first time in a while. The guy she once loved was gone. Now all that was left was an almost empty hurt shell, drowning in deeply rooted, hidden addiction. She didn’t know how to take it.

“I’M going home.. I’ll tell Hughie you’re staying over.”

And with that she walked away, She walked all the way home in the cold, late-night chill. Though the booze in her system, along with the deep hurt and worry in the pit of her stomach, kept her plenty warm or at least that’s what she told herself as she reached her house.

The next day. She knew she shouldn’t...that it would just end up in an argument but, she couldn’t help herself. She made her way to Patrick’s house. She’d be sure Hughie has dropped him off by now, since it was now nearly 12 pm.

“Patrick what’s gotten into you? please just talk to me, it’s as if you can’t go a day without drinking.”

She said. her voice cracking in rooted concern. He looked up and responded, His voice groggy and rough

“nothing’s wrong, just because I drink from time to time at parties doesn’t mean Im a alcoholic…you’re blowing it out of proportion.”

She just watched him, A hurt expression hit her face. Her voice cracking even more with each word.

“You’re lying straight to my face Patrick! It’s not time to time.. like I said it’s constant. every time I see you.. you’re drunk. please let me help, or let me in, something. I need you here with me.”

He got up, A look of drunken-stubbornness on his face

“You don’t know anything, You want the truth? I feel like you’re smothering me. Like I can’t catch my breath around you! I don’t need you to fix my problems for me, or better yet try and fix me.”

She studies his face, He was clearly still a bit drunk. She couldn’t help the pained expression on her face, Or the tears begging to be released from her eyes. Some managing to escape, the warm tears rolling down her cheeks. She choked down the giant lump in her throat and said

fine, If you really don’t need me then I guess I’m not your girlfriend anymore. But don’t you dare try calling me to say sorry or when you’re pissed and lonely.

And with that she walked out. Leaving the room she once called a second home, Now just an empty memory burning in the back of her mind. As she walked home Rain fell hard on the ground, The type of rain to get you drenched within seconds. Walking, She sobbed, The type of sobs that take all the air out of your lungs. They might’ve been stronger than the rain itself. Her clothes sticking to her skin, Hair weighing down her head. As she sobbed her teeth slightly clattered, The thick rain made it even harder to breathe, But sooner or later she made it home.

As the days went on She could clearly see Patrick wasn’t okay. He barley talked at school, He usually didn’t speak much, But it was getting to a point where his friends couldn’t even get him to speak .

Midnight She got awoken by the sound of her phone ringing. She looked at her alarm clock. 12:00 am

She groggily glanced at the contact, It was Patrick. She reluctantly picked up the phone.

“Patrick. Why are you calling me at 12 in the bloody morning.”

On the other end it was silence. Until i heard a groggy, slightly slurred voice.

“If I told you that I loved you, Tell me, What would you say?”

She sighed and said into the phone. A hint of anger rushing through me

“You’re drunk. You don’t get to say you love me anymore. You lost that when we broke up.”

She Then hung up the phone. Anger still passing through her, She had so much more to say to him.

The next night She found herself at the outlook Patrick took her, This is where They kissed for the first time, Where Patrick asked her out. All of it. She couldn’t hold it in any longer, She was sobbing again In the rain, It had been raining non stop for days now. She suddenly heard the sound of gravel moving. She turned around and there he was.

She just stood there, sobbing, letting the rain completely drench her. As she cried the words left her mouth

“I hate you so much, why can’t you just let me in, let me help. You’re a coward. I hate you s-“

She got cut off. Patrick had walked closer and pulled her into a kiss. It wasn’t Soft, or gentle. It was a plea. Rain soaking them completely. Patrick’s hands bunched up in my drenched shirt. Her hands in his hair.

he pulled back just enough to speak.

“I know i’m a coward, I’m sorry. I’ve been relyin on you. I’ll try, just Please don’t fully leave me. I Can’t handle that. I need you here with me too.”

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

authors note again !!

so this concludes this little story. like i said Im terrible at writing and just did this for my own boredom. There’s probably tons of grammatical mistakes in this so SORRY FOR THAT.. But yet again feel free to leave criticism if you do read this.😤😤😤😤

Patrick Feely -dating headcanons

Masterlist!

Summary: exactly what it says on the tin.

• He is incredibly jealous. The most jealous in his friend group. He rarely acts on it, he knows he’s being unreasonable, but when he sees you laughing with another guy his chest tightens and burns uncomfortably. He’s the master of subtlety. He’ll wrap his arm around your waist when you’re talking to another guy. Or send you a flirty text if he can’t do that. Just to make sure your focus is still on him. • The first six months of your relationship he never played the guitar once in front of you. He was scared he wasn’t good enough and that he would be like one of them guys who make you involuntarily make them listen to them play guitar.

• The first time he plays in front of you is by accident. You were meant to be going on a date that evening but you had arrived early. You came in to find him strumming his guitar and singing softly. He was so embarrassed his ears turned bright red, but, after that, he plays in front of you regularly.