#taming 7

dating gerard gibson headcannons

synopsis: plethora of my gibs thoughts

pairing: gerard gibson x reader

warning: does have 18+ content so be sure to have your appropriate age in your bio to interact or read. kissing, humping. written with fem!reader in mind.

author’s note: ahh tysm anon! first request, this is exciting but beware that i took your idea and ran with it. also still (slowly) wading through the bot books so this may be a bit out of character for gibsie. hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

p.s. please give feedback if you’re inclined, it inspires me and makes me very happy!

word count: 0.7k

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— 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

𝘫𝘰𝘦𝘺 𝘭𝘺𝘯𝘤𝘩♡

Your old bed creaks under the shift of your bodies as you fall with a thud, but neither of you notices. Joey’s hands are on your thighs, thumbs rubbing circles into your skin. You straddle his hips, bare chest flush to his as you press kisses along his jaw, slow and reverent.

His voice is husky, low. “You sure?”

You answer by grinding against him, the heat of you through your panties dragging a groan from deep in his chest.

“Fuck…” he mutters, hands sliding up to cup your ass as he presses you down against his hard cock. “You feel so good, baby.”

You kiss him again—hotter this time—biting gently at his bottom lip. “I want you, Joey. All of you.”

He flips you with a quiet whimper, settling between your legs, his mouth already trailing down your chest. “Gonna take care of you. You know that, right?”

You nod, breathless, he doesn’t really give you the time to respond properly. Dragging your panties down and kissing the inside of your thigh so softly you whimper. Then his mouth is on you— more specifically inside you—tongue slow and deliberate.

His hands pin your thighs open and his eyes stay locked on yours while he devours you like a man starving.

You moan his name, hips twitching under the weight of his grip.

“Joey—fuck—don’t stop…”

He hums against your clit, that smirk ghosting over his face even as he’s making you fall apart. “That’s it. Let me hear you, baby.”

When you finally come, it’s with a cry muffled into your forearm, body trembling under his mouth. He keeps going through your orgasm, lapping you up like he’s memorizing the way you taste.

When he finally pulls back, his chin slick and his eyes dark, he’s already pulling his boxers down.

“Please” he pants, the head of his cock rubbing against your slick entrance. “I need to be inside you.”

He pushes in slow, stretching you open inch by inch until he’s buried to the hilt. Both of you moan, breath mingling in the quiet air of the room.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he groans, starting to thrust, deep and deliberate. “Takin’ me so good…”

Your nails dig into his back as he fucks you slow—hips grinding in a rhythm that makes your toes curl. His hand slips under your knee, pushing your leg up to go deeper. Every roll of his hips brushes against that spot inside you that makes you see stars.

“Look at me,” he whispers, forehead pressed to yours. “Look at me while I make you feel this good.”

You do. And the way he looks at you? Like you’re the only thing in the world that’s ever mattered.

When you come again, he’s not far behind—his thrusts turning desperate, rougher. He buries his face in your neck as he groans your name, spilling deep inside you with a trembling moan.

You both lie there, breathless, bodies tangled in the sheets and each other.

Tucking a hand behind your neck he leans down kissing your forehead.

summary: 1k. on a cold night by the sea, everything is finally said—except the one thing that scares them both the most.

cw: childhood best friends, angsty, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, unspoken feelings, english is not my first language xx.

currently playing: siren sounds

Joey Lynch had loved you for as long as he could remember.

Before the bruises.

Before the shouting.

Before Ballylaggin felt like something he had to survive instead of just attend.

You were there when he was five, sitting on the curb outside your houses, legs swinging, sharing a packet of crisps like it was sacred. You were there when he was ten, holding his hand after his dad’s voice cracked the walls again. You were there when he was thirteen, when he learned how to shut down, how to disappear into himself.

You were always there.

And that was the problem.

Because loving you felt like standing too close to the sea—beautiful, loud, impossible to ignore. And Joey had learned early on that beautiful things were usually the ones that dragged you under.

Tonight, the waves were loud.

You sat beside him on the beach, knees pulled to your chest, hoodie sleeves covering your hands. The sky was dark, the water restless, the wind sharp with salt. Joey lay back on the sand, staring up at nothing, pretending his chest didn’t ache with every breath you took.

“You’re thinking again,” you said softly.

He huffed a laugh. “I always think.”

“No,” you replied, turning to look at him. “You’re spiraling.”

That made him turn his head. Your face was half-lit by the moon, familiar in a way that hurt. He knew every version of you—laughing, crying, angry, exhausted. He knew the sound you made when you were trying not to cry. He knew how you smelled like clean laundry and the ocean.

He knew he was done for.

“Why do you stay?” he asked suddenly.

You frowned. “What?”

“With me,” he said. “You know me better than anyone. You know how messed up it all is. So why don’t you leave?”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you scooted closer, your shoulder brushing his. That tiny contact sent electricity through him, like a warning siren going off in his bones.

“Because I love you, Joey,” you said, like it was obvious. Like it wasn’t the most terrifying thing he’d ever heard.

He sat up too fast. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Say it like that,” he snapped, panic flaring. “You make it sound easy.”

Your eyes softened. “It is easy. It’s you.”

He shook his head, hands trembling. “You don’t get it. Loving me—” He swallowed. “It’s dangerous.”

You reached for him anyway, fingers curling around his wrist, grounding, warm. “So is the ocean,” you said quietly. “Doesn’t mean people stop swimming.”

Joey laughed then, broken and breathless. “You’re going to drown with me.”

“Then we drown together,” you whispered.

Something inside him gave way.

The sea didn’t quiet down after that.

If anything, it grew louder, waves crashing harder against the shore as if trying to intrude on the moment. Joey noticed it distantly, the same way he noticed everything when his thoughts started to spiral. Except this time, he didn’t pull away. He stayed.

You were still there.

Close enough that he could feel the heat of you through the cold night air. Close enough that moving even an inch felt dangerous.

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” he murmured, breaking the silence first.

You frowned slightly. “Like what?”

“Like you’re staying,” he said. “Like it’s a given.”

Your jaw tightened. “It is.”

Joey shook his head, a bitter smile tugging at his mouth. “Nothing about me is a given.”

The words hung between you, heavy and familiar. He’d said versions of them before—half-joking, half-warning. This time, you didn’t let him hide behind them.

“You don’t get to decide when I give up on you,” you said quietly.

“I’m not deciding,” he snapped, then immediately softened. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“From what?”

“From me.”

That was the truth he never said out loud.

Joey turned away, staring at the dark water. “You’ve always been… good,” he continued, voice low. “You deserve someone who doesn’t flinch every time things get real. Someone who doesn’t carry this much damage.”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you reached out and took his sleeve, not his hand. Careful. Like you were giving him room to pull away if he needed to.

“I don’t want easy,” you said. “I want you. I always have.”

His chest tightened painfully. He closed his eyes, fighting the urge to lean into you, to give in to the pull he’d been resisting his whole life.

“You don’t know what it’s like inside my head,” he whispered. “Some days I can barely stand being there myself.”

You shifted closer, your shoulder brushing his arm. Not a kiss. Not even a hug. Just presence.

“Then let me sit with you in it,” you replied. “You’ve been sitting with me in mine since we were kids.”

Joey laughed softly, hollow. “That’s not fair.”

“I know,” you said. “Love never is.”

Silence settled again, thick and fragile. The wind tugged at your hair, at his jacket, at all the things neither of you were saying.

His hand twitched where it rested in the sand, inching closer to yours but never quite touching. You noticed. Of course you did.

“You don’t have to choose tonight,” you added gently. “I’m not asking for anything.”

He finally looked at you then, eyes dark and tired and full of something dangerously close to hope.

“That’s worse,” he said. “Because I want to.”

Your breath caught.

But he didn’t move.

And neither did you.

The waves kept crashing, relentless and patient, and the space between your hands felt louder than any confession ever could.

⋆˚࿔ "Hey stud" "Hey queen" ꒰ঌ ໒꒱ the it couple.

note ⸝⸝⸝ so idk if u wanted this to be completelyyy angst..

summary ⸝⸝⸝

warnings ⸝⸝⸝ angst.

you’ve been in joey lynch’s life for years — since you were kids, you’ve been attached at the hip. other kids would tease you for always hanging around him. he was the quiet one, the one who kept to himself. joey had friends, sure, but he never wanted to get too close to anyone. except you. you never pushed. you just showed up, made him feel safe, and let him know you weren’t going anywhere. and he let you in.

now you’re both older, still just as inseparable. visiting him and his family has become part of your daily routine. you’ve practically adopted his younger siblings. buying them clothes, snacks, taking them outside, babysitting them when joey’s too busy with work or school. you’ve known them since they were babies.

but there’s always been one thing joey struggled with — accepting help. he never hated the fact that you were close to his family. it was just, the idea of needing someone that much. he’d grown up self-reliant, proud. and that part of him never left.

it was a quiet night. their father was off doing god knows what, and their mum was holed up in her room. the kids looked like they hadn’t eaten all day, and you couldn’t ignore it. you took it upon yourself to make dinner, it just felt right.

“hungry,” seany says.

you giggle and squeeze his cheeks. “course you are! i’ll make dinner right now, okay?” you reply, setting him into a chair.

as you start on your special pasta, shannon appears beside you. “that smells so good,” she says, staring into the pot like she’s hypnotized. you laugh at her expression.

you nod toward the table. “go set it up, yeah? and tell the others to come down.”

she smiles softly and disappears out of view.

you all sit down and start eating. you’re feeding seany some of his baby food when tadgh raises an eyebrow.

“are ya not hungry or somethin’? ya do know sean knows how to eat by himself,” he says, scoffing.

you chuckle. “he’s three. seany deserves to be fed.”

shannon smiles quietly at the two of you, just as the front door creaks open. everyone pauses and looks toward it.

“o-ee!” seany squeals with excitement.

your smile widens at his reaction. he wiggles in his seat, and you help him down so he can run to his brother. joey ruffles his hair, bending down to grin at him.

“seanyboo,” he says.

the others turn back to their food, but joey’s eyes find yours. he looks serious, like he’s trying to say something without speaking. something twists in your stomach. is he mad? did you do something wrong?

after cleaning up and tucking everyone into bed (even tadgh and shannon.no matter how grown they act, they’re still babies in your eyes), you head to the kitchen for a water bottle. that’s when joey appears behind you out of nowhere.

you jump slightly.

“let’s talk,” he says, voice low and firm.

before you can respond, he gently grabs your wrist and leads you outside. your heart races. you don’t understand why he looks so intense. the knot in your stomach only tightens.

“are you okay, joey?” you ask softly, confused.

“no— fuck, ye, i am. this isn’t about me, it’s about you,” he says, stumbling over his words. you raise an eyebrow.

“me? did i do something wrong or somethin’—”

he cuts you off, sighing. “i appreciate everything ya do. for me. for my siblings. but i don’t like how you come over every single day like it’s your responsibility. like they’re your family. buying them shit. taking care of everything. i just… i just fuckin’ want ya to focus on your own life. i feel like i made that your duty—”

you quickly raise a hand, stopping him before he can finish.

“joey, no matter how much you hate it, i can’t stop caring about them. i love them. they matter to me. and so do you.”

he exhales, eyes darting away. “you don’t get it. i just need some space from you.”

your heart drops.

those are the exact words you never wanted to hear, especially not from him. the last time he said them, you were kids, and it nearly ruined everything between you.

your vision blurs. tears threaten to fall no matter how hard you fight them. you wipe your face with your sleeve. you’re wearing joey’s hoodie — how fitting.

his hands ball into fists at his sides. you know he’s fighting the urge to reach for you. he hates seeing you cry, especially when he’s the one who caused it. he never means to hurt you. he just never knows how to accept the kind of love you offer.

“i didn’t mean it like that,” he whispers.

“i think i know exactly what you meant,” you say quietly. “but if that’s what you want… i’ll respect it.”

you grip your water bottle tighter and take a step back. part of you hopes he’ll stop you, call your name, reach for your wrist, say anything.

but he doesn’t.

each step you take away from him feels like another piece of your heart breaking off.

“i love you,” he finally says — barely above a whisper.