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Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
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he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
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@risipieces
collected by RISA ♡ when you da pinkiest most jolly girl in town 💌
pinterest. joão félix:p shifting. summer. patrick feely. reading. editing. dogs. miguel. 5teen. father john misty.
— ꒰ all dripped up and pulling up in full lace as THE baddest bitch in the club ꒱ risaGPT loading.. 𑁤
directed by sofia coppola ⭐️
꘩ 𝓟atrick 𝓕eely in — 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 ࿐ ⟡ ݁
i just unlocked a new level of life. this thing dragged me from the holes making both my holes cry (ok risa stfu) but thank you to all the writers taking their time to write amazing fics hello my life is changed for the better. soo… i basically need 200+ chapters and a happy later after book after that 😂.. ouu shii 👀
꘩ 𝓟atrick 𝓕eely in — 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 ࿐ ⟡ ݁
all I can fucking hear is honeybee by olivia omg this fic has changed my life.
꘩ 𝓟atrick 𝓕eely in — 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 ࿐ ⟡ ݁
everyone shut hello. this fic has consumed my brain all i can see is patrick. lemme shift again 😤
₊˚ ✧ ━━━ ━━━ ━━⊱⋆⊰━━ ━━━ ━━━ ✧ ₊˚
(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.
“maybe, but im yours”.
my show is on 😇
꘩ 𝓟atrick 𝓕eely in — 𝓖𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝓕𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 ࿐ ⟡ ݁
𝓦arnings : smut , oral , cursing , pet names , f in v .
“so? how was it?” your friend, stacy asked. she was all up in your personal space by your locker, all giddy since you and patrick feely had the first sleepover last night. you’d been going out with him for 4 months now.
“i didn’t say we did anything, stace.” you say, although you can’t help but a smile.
“something happened. i know it did! come on, spill.” stacy says, grinning ear to ear. when you blushed and kept busy in your locker— stacy gasps, realizing something. “oh my god, he plays guitar, doesn’t he?” she laughs happily. “I bet it was good then.”
you roll your eyes playfully. “im kinda regretting telling you he came over. you are awfully interested in my sex life right now, stacy.” you tease, but nonetheless give in to your best friend. smiling, you discreetly add, “yeah, he’s good with the guitar.”
“so something did happen.” stacy smiles knowingly.
“yeah, something.”
─୨ৎ
“pat,” you panted aganist his lips, breathless as his hands roamed your body, gently — but his need was clear by the way his fingertips gripped your hips.
patrick pulled himself up. his shirt had been taken off by you the second you two fell on your bed earlier. “don’t do this f’me, baby. make sure you want this.” he murmured softly before pressing a drugging kiss to your lips, to emphasize what the “this” was.
“i do want this. i want you, patrick.” you sighed aganist his lips, your nerves melting away at the reassurance he gave so effortlessly, you knew it was because he meant it. he always did.
your eyes drank in his physice, built on working on his familys’ farm and doing rugby. you reach out and run your fingers over his abs and chest, his muscles tighten under your touch. patrick fought a shiver at the warm touch. he sighs and slides his large under your ass, gripping your tommen skirts’ waistband from underneath you.
“don’t look at me like that unless you want me to do somethin’ about it.” his voice was deeper, raspier. he lifts up one of your legs and presses a kiss to your thigh and smirking against it when you shivered.
silently, he slides down to be between your legs, peppering the soft flesh of your thighs. he slides off your tommen skirt and tosses it on your rug floor. he kisses your most sensitive area through your panties, nuzzling against it. “jesus, baby. you’re soaked. you always been like this for me when im holdin’ myself back? all hot and bothered?”
“patrick . . . don’t tease,” you gasp as his nose and lips nuzzle you through your panties, too sensitive for his teasing. “i need . . .”
“what do you need, pretty baby? tell me.” he kisses your area again.
whimpering, “your mouth, patrick.”
“hm. that’s right.” he moves your panties to one side, too turned on and needy to even get up from his spot between you. he presses a kiss to you again. with that, he slowly drags his tongue on you.
as he worked his mouth on you, you cried out helplessly. your legs wrapped around his neck tightly and your hands fisted his hair. “patrick. . . baby . . . fuck! i- i mphm . .”
patrick lifts his head up and he kisses up your body, which only holds a bra now. he presses a kiss to your thigh, stomach, chest, neck and jaw. when he reaches your lips, he leans into the hands now gripping his back. he slips his tongue inside your mouth as one hand escapes your waist and slides to spread open one leg again, before you could process— two fingers slipped inside of you. full, rough and aching.
he restlessly pumped his fingers in and out of you, his face calm like he’s used to working his hands like this— which he was. but even with his calmed face, his eyes were dark and hooded as they drifted between his hand to focus and to you, and when he stared at you—studying you, you couldn’t help but notice the pink flushing on his cheeks.
“you’re close, aren’t ya, baby?” he whispers roughly, kissing your neck, the position caused his veins to flex in his wrist, which did nothing but fuel the fire inside of you as his hand moved in a perfect, effortless rhythm.
his fingers moved faster inside. slick, wet sounds between his hand and you. when he gets the approval by your arms around his shoulders and sweet moans in his ear, he kisses you and groaned against your mouth— “come for me, baby. let go on my hand, pretty girl.”
“patrick. . . god right there!” you cried, clinging to him, your freshly done nails digging into his back.
patrick groaned when your thighs trembled against his arm and hand. “fuckin’ hell. that’s it, baby.”
patrick slowly comes to a stop when he helped you ride out your high.
he slowly, so slowly, pulls out his fingers. he cups your waist and the forearm that was beside your head comes down and his hand cups your jaw. “you’re so beautiful, baby. so perfect. you did so good.” he kisses you deeply, as he does he pulls you against his chest. patrick sighed against your lips when your fingers find his hair, he pulls back, taking your in your flushed face. “my beautiful girl.”
─୨ৎ
“hello? can you even hear me? im waiting.” stacy says, snapping her fingers in your face.
you snap out of your zone-out, you had gotten too wrapped up in the heated memory of the night before. “sorry, what?” you replied, you could feel your cheeks burning.
“i asked how it was. and do not say nothing happened again.”
“well. . . the guitar payed off.” you admitted, once again flustered.
“guitar fingers?” stacy smirked.
“guitar fingers.”
©sugarhigh14 2026
disclaimer . . . this is my first ever finished piece of writing! so please be kind! ♡
— music banner credits to @suupersonic
likes and reblogs are appreciated ♡ ♡
life changing
salty makeouts
Arguing with Patrick Feely felt like standing on the edge of a cliff during a thunderstorm—one moment it was all wind and the scent of salt in the air, thrilling and alive, and the next you were being hurled into crashing waves below. It always started quietly, cautiously. Like two people trying not to wake a sleeping giant. But inevitably, one word—just one—would send everything spiraling.
You had been standing in the middle of his bedroom when it happened. The place was dimly lit, only the soft golden glow of the old lamp on his nightstand throwing pools of light on the deep navy walls. His guitar leaned lazily against the edge of the bookshelf, schoolbooks were strewn across the desk in his usual half-chaotic fashion. It smelled like sandalwood and something sweet—his cologne. Familiar, comforting, even when everything else felt sharp.
“You’re being crazy!”
There it was. The word. That word.
You froze. Your body stiffened like you’d just walked into icy water. You blinked once, then again, like if you did it enough times, the sting behind your eyes would go away.
He realized it the moment it left his mouth. His expression shifted, regret flickering in his dark eyes for just a second. But then, as always, pride got in the way.
“Oh, I see. Sorry for trying to be enough for Patrick fucking Feely,” you said, voice trembling like the air before a storm. You folded your arms tightly over your chest, more to keep yourself from shaking than anything else.
“Maybe stop trying so hard,” he snapped, tone sharp. “It’s suffocating. You’re suffocating.”
You flinched. Your lip trembled before you could stop it. “That’s mean, Pat. You’re being mean.”
“No, I’m not being mean. I’m being real,” he said, taking a step away, as if distance would soften the blow. “Ever since you came back from Dublin, you’ve been… different. I can’t deal with this right now. I should go.”
Oh, that’s how it is…
“Yeah,” you whispered, though your heart was roaring. “Yes, you should.”
He didn’t look at you again. Just turned, grabbed his jacket off the back of his desk chair, and left. The door slammed behind him, vibrating through your bones.
For a few moments, you just stood there, staring at the space he left behind. His scent still lingered in the air. His hoodie was still draped over the edge of the bed. There was an empty mug on the nightstand—he’d made you tea that morning. That version of him, the one who made tea and sang you songs when you couldn’t sleep, felt like a ghost now.
You dropped onto the bed, knees folding in, your back curling like a dying leaf. Then the tears came. Not the pretty kind. The ugly, heaving, choking kind. The kind that leaves your face blotchy and your chest hollow. You weren’t even crying over the fight—you were crying because you believed him. Because deep down, that small, cruel voice in your head had been whispering the same thing for weeks: You’re too much.
The next day at Tommen was a blur. The school looked the same, but everything felt different. The halls were filled with laughter and chatter, but it passed over you like smoke. You kept your head down, eyes fixed on the floor tiles like they held all the answers.
In class, you sat next to Shannon, who was practically glowing as she spoke about her weekend in Dingle with Kav. Her fingers twisted through her curls as she described the seaside cottage, the firelit dinners, the moonlit walks on the shore. You nodded along, offered smiles in the right places, but your mind was elsewhere. Stuck on that moment in Patrick’s room. That word. Crazy.
You didn’t look behind you, because you knew. You could feel him. That strange gravity Patrick Feely always carried—his stare burning holes in the back of your neck. But he didn’t approach. And neither did you.
The walk home was miserable. A thin drizzle coated the streets in a slick sheen, and the grey sky seemed to mirror your mood perfectly. The route along the canal was usually your favorite—lined with cherry trees and little stone benches—but today it felt too open, too exposed. Like the world was watching you unravel.
That night, sleep never came. You lay in bed staring at the ceiling, counting the rotations of the fan, your thoughts spiraling faster than the blades. You didn’t eat. You skipped your meds. You drowned yourself in schoolwork, hoping to quiet the noise.
But Patrick’s voice kept echoing.
The third day after the fight, something snapped. You grabbed your coat, pulled on his hoodie—you hadn’t been able to stop wearing it, no matter how much it hurt—and left your house with no real destination in mind. Your feet just… moved.
You ended up at the lake.
It was raining again. Not a drizzle—proper Irish rain, coming down in sheets. The kind of rain that soaked you through no matter how fast you ran. But you didn’t run. You walked slowly, letting the cold water seep into your shoes, your hair plastering to your face, your fingers trembling.
The lake was surrounded by trees, dark and wild, the kind that seemed to hold secrets. You’d come here with him before. Once, after a particularly bad anxiety attack, he’d brought you here. Sat you on a blanket, wrapped you in his arms, and talked about nonsense until you smiled.
Now you stood on the edge, arms wrapped around your own body, sobbing so hard it felt like your ribs might crack. “You said you’d never leave when it got hard,” you whispered to no one, voice raw.
“I didn’t,” came a voice behind you.
You froze.
Slowly, you turned.
The rain came down harder now, like the sky itself was falling apart. Cold water streamed down your back, soaking Patrick’s hoodie clinging to your frame, and yet you barely noticed. Every nerve in your body was locked on him.
Patrick stood just a few feet away, chest rising and falling beneath his drenched T-shirt, jaw tense, fists clenched at his sides like he didn’t trust his own body not to reach for you.
“I didn’t leave,” he said again, hoarse.
You blinked at him, raindrops mingling with the tears on your cheeks. “You walked out, Patrick. You let me fall apart. You let that word leave your mouth and then you just… left.”
“I know,” he whispered, as if even saying it caused him physical pain. “I’ve never hated myself more than I do right now. I’ve been carrying it around since I closed that fucking door. I wanted to turn around the second I left.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
His eyes searched yours, helpless and hollow. “Because I’m a coward. Because loving you means seeing parts of myself I don’t like. Because sometimes you look at me like I’m the only thing holding you together, and it scares the hell out of me. Because I didn’t think I deserved to be your person. Not when I couldn’t fix what was hurting you.”
“I didn’t ask you to fix me,” you said, voice cracking. “I just needed you to stay. Even if I was messy. Especially because I was messy.”
“I know. I know that now. And I am so—” he stepped forward, his voice breaking—“so sorry I made you think you weren’t enough. You’re not suffocating. You never were. I was drowning in my own fear and I lashed out like a bloody coward.”
Your bottom lip trembled, and you bit it hard to keep it from fully quivering. You hated how much you wanted to believe him. How even now, after everything, you still wanted to run to him and bury yourself in the comfort of his arms.
But he saw it—the flicker of hope in your eyes—and that’s all he needed.
He stepped closer. One step. Then another. Slowly, like approaching a wounded animal.
You didn’t stop him.
“I miss you,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I miss you so much it physically hurts. I miss your laugh. Your weird obsession with that ridiculous cardigan. The way you whisper my name when you’re half asleep. I miss us, and I know I don’t deserve to ask you to forgive me but—”
You reached out before he could finish.
Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, dragging him the final inch toward you until your foreheads touched. His breath hitched as he leaned into the contact, eyes fluttering closed.
“I hate how much I love you,” you whispered.
A single breath passed between you.
Then your lips crashed into his.
It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t soft or pretty. It was desperate. Like kissing him was the only way to stop the ache in your chest. Like if you didn’t kiss him now, your bones might shatter from the weight of missing him.
He groaned into your mouth, one hand flying to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your soaked hair as he kissed you like he’d been starving. His other hand found your waist, pulling you tightly against him, like he couldn’t stand even a millimeter of distance.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured against your lips between kisses. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
You kissed him again, harder, your hands framing his face. “You hurt me,” you whispered against his skin.
“I know,” he said, eyes red, voice barely holding it together. “I’ll never forgive myself for that.”
You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, your fingers tracing the edge of his jaw. His breath hitched under your touch.
“I don’t want promises,” you said. “I just want you. Real. Scared. Messy. But here.”
“I’m here,” he breathed. “God, I’m so here.”
And then you kissed again slower this time. Painful in its tenderness. His lips moved like he was trying to memorize the shape of yours all over again, like every second he’d gone without you was being rewritten in that moment.
He kissed your cheek. Your jaw. The corner of your mouth. Your eyelids. Reverent. Apologetic. Devoted.
“I love you,” he whispered. “Even when I’m the worst version of myself. Even when you can’t see it. I love you.”
You let yourself fall into him completely, arms wrapping around his waist as he buried his face in your neck, holding you like he was afraid the wind would tear you from him if he let go.
And there, standing in the rain by the lake—two heartbreaks stitched together with saltwater and apologies—you knew you were choosing each other again.
Not because it was easy.
But because love like this was worth it
blue jeans, white shirt
pairing: joao felix x reader
warnings: angsty
preface: your ex bf is famous af and he forgot about u from the fame, or so u thought
i will love you till the end of time, i would wait a million years. promise you’ll remember that you’re mine. baby can you see through the tears?
when joão got transferred to chelsea you guys have been dating for a year but it was getting quite serious. he was shown as the new young left winger from portugal. he got his fame from being on chelsea but you knew him when he first joined benfica. you have been knowing him since you were a child so you know everything about him. his pet peeves, his favourite songs, his little quirks and that’s what he liked about you.
you were attentive and loving, you both always had a connection since you were both teenagers. the connection quickly turned to dust when he stopped being attentive to you. he would have events and he stopped inviting you, he stopped inviting you to games, he just ghosted you overall. his mom often calls you to see if you guys have spoken but you secretly hated it. he was your first love, your first body, your first kiss. you were shattered when you realized he wasn’t putting in his all anymore so it was safe to say you guys were done, you deletes his number, unfollowed him on instagram, blocked him on snapchat, deleted anything of him on your phone, you even stopped watching football.
you were back home in portugal for the summer and you were staying again your familys villa, not a single thought in your brain except for seeing your new boyfriend. your new boyfriend was caring and great to you, helped you get over joão. you know your mother was inviting some family friends over and you know it was going to be the félix family but joão stopped attending family functions all together because he was “too busy”. you got out of the shower and you were changing into your pjs so you could do your makeup and you heard the front door open, you assumed it was your boyfriend until you heard a familiar loud voice. your stomach dropped and you started breathing heavily, you haven’t seen him since he’s joined barcelona and it’s now the middle of august.
you gave yourself a pep talk and reminded yourself that he means nothing now and your boyfriend is on the way now. you called your boyfriend to see where he is and he picked up on the last couple of rings. “hey y/n baby, i’m sorry but i don’t think i’ll be able to make it tonight. work is just a lot right now” he says, your stomach dropped yet again. “okay baby. i love you” you say swallowing your panic. you got ready and just tried to go on about your day.
you looked gorgeous. you lost weight, done your hair differently, you were barely wearing makeup. you were wearing a beautiful short summer dress with your perfect manicured hands and toes. joão loved how feminine you were. you walked downstairs of the villa and everyone’s eyes were on you. mrs félix ran up to you and gave you a big kiss on your cheek, you smiled as you hugged everyone, except joão. you just gave him a friendly wave as he looked at you in awe.
you went through the dinner with funny stories of your younger self as well as joão, before you would’ve been missing him but now you feel nothing. “eu vou ao banheiro” (i’m going to the bathroom) everyone nods as you get up, your heels clicking on the ground as you make your way to the bathroom. “wow she’s beautiful..” joão’s mother said to your parents, she turns her head towards her son “why would you do that.. she’s perfect joão”
“não sei..” (i don’t know) “vá falar com ela” his mother whispers to him. joão gets up, making his way to the home he has spent multiple nights over as a child.. multiple family pictures including a photo of you and joão, he sighed and smiled to himself as he takes a photo of it, he hears a familiar clicking, he looks to his left to see you walking toward him, not even looking at him. joão’s heart ached as you walked by him without even looking at him. “y/n.. please..” he says, you stop in your tracks, but continue walking. he walks up to you and turns you around to face him, the teary eyed boy looks at you, he noticed your gaze wasn’t the same as before, it was a cold different gaze. broken, “why did you do that..” you said with no expression on your face. “i’m sorry..”
“but you aren’t.”
he looked defeated to say the least. “if you were sorry you wouldn’t have done what you did, you fell out of love with me, and it’s okay. i’ve accepted it. but the reason why you were okay with it at first was because you knew i was in love with you, but now you aren’t because i’m with someone who actually loves me. it’s time for you to accept it joão, it’ll never be the same.” your words came out like a knife to his chest, your eyes started to water. someone who was once your best friend was now nobody to you. he saw a side of you nobody as seen, but unfortunately you loved him more than he loved you. truth be told but joão never fell out of love with you.
you walked away a few tears falling down your soft cheeks, you turn around to see joão’s hands covering his face as he heaves, you’ve never seen him cry like this. ever. you wipe your tears as you go back to the table plastering a fake smile, your family not having a single clue in the world about what just happened. few minutes after joão comes to the living room looking normal. you both exchanged a weak smile, your heart ached as well as his.
months pass by, you broke up with your boyfriend, joão’s loan at barca ended, and it’s officially euros season. despite avoiding watching football because of joão, you decided to start watching with your father, but tonight you’re at a hotel in berlin, 10 minutes away from the stadium. you posted on your story the place you were at. drinking a glass of wine as you lay on your bed doing your work on your computer, it was close to 2 am, you start to shut everything off as you hear the storm hitting your hotel window, you pull the covers over your body until you heard banging at your front door. afraid but you got up to look at the peephole to see a soaking wet joão. you open the door as he looks at you with bloodshot eyes, he’d been crying. he brings you in a tight hug as you hug him back, he takes in your scent, you always smelt so good.
“what’s wrong j?”
“too much on my mind.” he says drained, you brought him in to sit on the couch, you open a can of his favourite beer as he smiles to you, “you remembered” you giggled, “okay come on let’s talk” you said
you found out that joão missed a penalty shot and he just feels so bad, you understand his concern so you let him stay the night, you both sleep on the opposite sides of the bed. you started mindlessly scrolling on your phone now that you were wide awake. “i can’t stop thinking about you.” joão faces you
“joão please-“
“no y/n- please listen to me. you are my soulmate, my everything. you’re the only person that gets me..” he says as he gets up, walking up to you. “how can i let go of you? you are so fucking beautiful. you have the most beautiful skin, most beautiful hair, and your voice sounds like honey. all i think about is you. ever since i saw you moved on my heart yearned for you. i forgot how amazing you were. i was stupid, all i thought about was my career but completely forgot why i was in it for, i wanted to make money for you. but i got caught up with everything. please y/n.. i can’t lose you..” he says as he gets on his knees, hugging your body as he places kisses all over your body, “please y/n.. say something.” he says as he places a kiss on your cheeks, as well as briefly placing a kiss on your lips. you were crying as well as he was. you wanted to hug him and kiss him to let him know that everything will be okay.
“no- joão. please stop. it’s ruined. you ruined it. it can’t be fixed” you say as you pushed him off, “before i would’ve taken you back in a heartbeat. believe me. but now you don’t deserve me. i think you should leave” you held back your tears
he nodded, defeated. making his way to the door, he opened the door as he looked back at your teary eyes. “i would wait a million years for you. eu te amo” he walked out, your heart aching.
atp just kirk me out in the dead daylight of the sun
