#patrick verona gifs

[swanimagines]

Please can I ask for some headcanons about dating Patrick Verona (10 Things I Hate About You)? Please? Thank you!

- When you started at your new school, you immediately grew to be intrigued by your classmate before even knowing his name.

- A classic bad boy, charming, handsome, breaking the rules...

- Just your type.

- Even when you knew such boys could be bad influence.

- Your new friends were worried about your crush, often those kinds of boys could be violent behind closed doors.

- And honestly, you were kind of afraid of such behavior too.

- But you couldn't help it, especially after he started to show interest towards you too.

- He began to be flirty, though also a bit cocky.

- But he got you flustered anyway.

- It was the first time a boy had showed any romantic interest towards you, so you weren't entirely sure if he was actually interested, if he was just messing with you or... if he was just after your body and not you.

- But as time went by, his actual crush on you began to be more and more genuine.

- Unless he was one hell of an actor, he seemed to be really into you.

- Your friends told you to be wary, but they admitted that he did really feel like he was being genuine.

- So, you began to meet him after school.

- You asked him that you'd take it slow, you wanted to get to know him properly without making it anything more.

- He agreed to that, understanding your doubts.

- It started with just casually hanging out. Getting some food together and eating at the park, just chatting about your lives, going to school parties together, going on walks together...

- But eventually, he asked you on a real date.

- He admitted he wasn't used to being a romantic who could sweep people off their feet, he only knew how to be a charmer towards new people. 

- And the basic dinner and a movie after was something he apologised for.

- You were more than happy about it though, being able to spend time with him.

- When you opened the door for him upon him fetching you from your home, he looked you over in your attire, seemingly stunned.

"You look amazing." - Patrick

- You chuckled, looking at your feet for a moment and biting your lip.

"Oh, stop it." - You

- You had the most amazing time that night, and when Patrick dropped you off, he asked for your permission to kiss you.

- You blinked at him, but then eagerly nodded.

- So he slowly leaned in, and then he carefully pressed his lips against yours.

- You had never kissed anyone before, so at first you weren't sure what to do, but quickly got the hang of it and rested your arms on his forearms as he placed his hands on your waist.

- When you parted, you both laughed quietly, and at that moment you both knew you were now a couple.

- The next morning, upon you arriving to school, you found the most beautiful bouquet of flowers from your locker, and realised Patrick had used his lockpicking skills to surprise you.

- He also began leaving love notes at the inside of your locker door.

- When you were together, he usually had his arm around your waist.

- He also wasn't shy with PDA.

- Kissing your cheek, neck, shoulders...

- At first you felt awkward by so many looking at you being lovey-dovey, but got used to it as time went by.

- And, you kind of enjoyed seeing that old grump Mrs. Highwood glaring at you in disapproval as Patrick's face was buried into your neck.

- Your friends also approved of Patrick in the end, and you often hung out together.

- Your relationship ended up being the couple goals for many in your school.

Requests are always open! FANDOM LIST | PROMPT LIST(S)

[deadpoets]

Not even close Not even a little Not even at all (insp.)

[fanfics-for-you]

what's in a name? || Patrick Verona (TTIHAY) x gn!reader (Modern!College!AU)

AVAILABLE ON AO3 (SOON)

Inspiration: ✨️Patrick Verona✨️

Summary: Patrick Verona is apparently the most intimidating guy on campus. You just want to get by, pass your classes, and get to your actual dreams. When you casually approach him one day and decidedly are not scared of him, Patrick has some questions.

TWs: light language, use of Y/N (only like twice), second person POV (you, yours).

[[A/N: This is basically under the concept that you approach Patrick first, and aren't really as afraid of him as anybody else. He's intrigued. Also this is a college AU, because I am in college and I think it's weird to write about high school lmao. ALSO,,, I know this is incredibly niche and a dead tag, but... I watched the movie recently and was violently possessed to write this. The parasites in me what to continue this universe, but idk. Anyway. Enjoy :)]]

You were exhausted. Totally and completely exhausted.

You'd stayed up all night for your chem quiz, and still, didn't think you did great on it. Which made your day ever so worse. So, when you went to the library, and someone was sitting in the spot you always sat in, you halfway wanted to cry and halfway wanted to rip your hair out. Normally, such a thing wouldn't be a big deal, but today it was. So, with a certainty that rivaled a lawyer in court, you stomped over to the chair.

For a moment, the guy didn't even look at you. He kept staring at his friend, a surprisingly 'metal' dressing guy who was talking avidly about something.

You cleared your throat.

That's when they both looked at you.

You were entirely focused on the one in your seat. A taller guy with built shoulders, curly hair and a sharp jaw. In normal circumstances, you'd probably think he was hot. Today was not normal circumstances.

The man raised an eyebrow.

Okay, so maybe it was a little normal circumstances, but that wasn't relevant.

"What are you doing?"

The man answered, simply -maybe a little confused, "Sitting?"

"That's my spot," you clarified, pointedly.

"Oh, I'm sorry-" the man pretended to start getting up before pausing -speaking sarcastically, "-Oh wait, I've just remembered, this is public property."

Mindlessly noting that he had an accent that you couldn't quite place, you rolled your eyes, "I sit there everyday. Just give me the spot."

"You weren't sitting here all day," he pointed out, "-or else I wouldn't be here."

You pressed your lips together into a thin line, "I was busy failing a chem test, now get up."

His eyes skimmed over your face, thoughtfully, "Do you know who I am?"

"Why-" you sighed out, frustrated, "-would I know who you are?"

Even despite the comment, he did seem familiar somehow but you weren't going to tell him that.

He furrowed his eyebrows for a moment, and didn't say anything. You felt like you were going to explode in fiery flames.

You groaned, "Oh my god. There are thousands of seats on campus, just go sit somewhere else."

"Exactly," the man countered, "-why don't you sit somewhere else?"

"Because-" you huffed out a breath, "-that's my spot."

"And why is this spot so important to you?" He shuffled slightly, moving his hands along the cracks of the seat, "-You got something good stashed in 'ere?"

"Dear god," you huffed out a breath in defeat, "-Whatever. Enjoy your seat, asshole."

And with that, you spun on your heel and pulled yourself deeper into the library. Taking a breath in, you pulled yourself into a seat not too far from the original, but you were around the corner so you wouldn't have to look at his stupid face. You soured just at the thought.

You pulled open your chem book, and read through it -trying to figure out which ones you definitely missed, that way you could get the ballpark for what your grade might be. You really needed to know, to make sure your GPA stayed in the range for your dream university.

But, in the middle of it, you heard someone plop into the chair in front of you (it was a group of chairs, like for a group of people if necessary).

Before looking up, you spoke -sharply, "Do you mind?"

"Not at all."

Your eyes shot up at that familiar accent, and you frowned.

"You got the seat," you pointed out, bitterly, "-What the hell do you want now?"

"Your name," he answered simply.

You blinked, (what?) before settling back into your seat and flipping to the next page, "Yeah, no."

The man seemed to move forward, and unwillingly your eyes flickered to him (his curls moving with the motion), "Why not?"

"I don't give my name out to strangers," you retorted -flicking your eyes down to your book, "-especially not assholes."

"Don't know if I can change who I am," he smirked, "-but, I can work on the stranger part."

You frowned, eyeing him particularly, "Seriously, what do you want?"

"I already told you," he replied, fidgeting with something in his hands (you weren't paying attention), "-I'm Patrick, by the way."

"Well," you exhaled, sharply, and ignored his name, "-you're not getting it."

"Well," he repeated with the same sort of grin, "-I'll just have to work on that too, then."

You looked up at him again and squinted at him -trying to read him somehow. All he did was grin at you, a charming kind, of course, that made crinkles on his cheeks. You ignored the flutter in your chest that it gave you and darted your eyes back down to your book.

The next day, you were in better spirits. After studying for an entirely different class, you were pretty sure you aced that test. So, you weren't as pissed, thankfully. Until you went into the library to sit between classes like you always did.

You paused in your step and frowned.

The guy (Patrick, your mind treacherously noted) was sitting by your chair, mindlessly tapping his fingers along the arm of the chair. He wasn't in your chair, thankfully, but still, he was in the one beside it. Pointedly close.

You huffed out a breath, and moved toward the chairs, "What are you doing?"

"Sitting," he repeated.

You raised an eyebrow.

He seemed to take that as a repeat of the question -before saying, confidently (too confidently), "I'm studying for a test."

"You don't seem like the studying type," you retorted, throwing yourself into the chair and pulling out your laptop -realizing it was no use to try and get him to leave.

Patrick pointed out, "You don't even know me."

"And I don't intend to," you replied with ease, flicking your eyes to meet his, "-your point?"

He grinned the same bright one from before, amused maybe. Your heart skipped a beat, so you dropped your eyes back down to your laptop. He, on the other hand, didn't seem to look away.

"What's your major?" He asked, thoughtfully.

"I won't tell you my name," you leveled, scrolling through your online schedule for homework, "-but you think I'll tell you my major?"

"Well," he reasoned, "-a name is much more identifiable, but your major," he shrugged, "-not so much."

You eyed him again for a second, before saying, "What if you just want to look up my classes and hunt me down?"

Patrick smiled again, before asking, "What is your next class?"

"Why?" You ask, pointedly, "-So you can force me into talking to you again?"

"Preferably," he replied, grinning cheekily.

You raised an eyebrow, and bit your lip to pull down a smile that begged to quirk up, "I'm not telling you that either."

"What if I just follow you when you leave?" He questioned, curiously, "-Figure it out myself?"

"And what if I-" you smiled at him -patronizingly, "-call the campus police?"

He raised both eyebrows as if to say 'touché' without saying it out loud. You bit down another smile and moved back to your computer -pulling out your planner and jotting down dates.

"Your pissiness," he suddenly spoke, "-Are you often filled with boiling hatred?"

"No," you sigh out, before shooting him another patronizing smile, "-that's special just for you."

He laughed then, and something warm zinged down to your toes (you ignored it), "Do you seriously not know me?"

"Do you know how many Patricks exist in the world?" you point out, "-No, I don't know you."

"So you do remember my name," he smirked, patting along his lap with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes but didn't say a word.

It ended up like that for the rest of the time, Patrick shooting questions now and then, and you shutting them down. His stupid smirk and low, rumbly, accented voice, you hated that he actually seemed kinda nice -all things considered.

But, as you stood up to leave, you decided on something.

"Literature," you said simply, gathering up everything into your bag.

He paused, shooting up his eyebrows, "What?"

"My next class," you answered, nonchalantly pulling your bag onto your shoulder, "-Intro to Literature."

Patrick grinned, bright and shiny, "Gen Ed?"

"Yeah," you answered, moving to put the last few things in your bag.

"Can I walk you?"

Your eyes snapped to him then, curiously -detailing the rather honest look, before answering solidly, "No."

He burst into laughter then, throwing his head back against the chair -you mindlessly watched his curls fall back with the motion and then snapped your eyes away.

"Same time tomorrow then?" He asked, still laughing a little bit (something in you twinkled).

"Nope," you exhale a breath, ignoring the disappointment that swirled into your chest, "-I'm not on campus tomorrow."

He seemed to falter for a second, "Do you live on campus?"

You raised a solid eyebrow, you really think I'd tell you that?

"Right, yeah, okay," Patrick conceded, holding up his hands in faux surrender, "-What days are you on campus?"

You paused, pressing your lips together, but something in you did it, "Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays."

He grinned a little brighter, "Are you here around the same time on Mondays?"

Something in your chest flipped, but even still, you answered, "That's what you have to figure out. Not me."

And then, you spun on your heel and walked out of the library. His laughter trailed out behind you, and if you had a small little smile on your face at the noise, that was only for you to know.

Monday came, and you woke up early and made your way to campus -the first class of the day was at the crack of dawn. You physically despised it, but so is the schedule of a college student. Plus, you still worked, so the earlier the better for your schedule -didn't mean it didn't suck though.

Sipping on your drink, you wandered back toward the cafeteria -crossing the main connecting area, where everything led to. There was a baseball game going on, not an official one by the looks of it, in the grass. Your eyes hinged on the game for a few seconds, the echoes of laughter shooting toward your ears. It looked fun, but you weren't too invested in being outside for that long. Before you could look away though, your eyes caught on a familiar frame.

Patrick.

His hair was tied back, and he was wearing a pretty bland tank top (just grey), with some typical jeans. With his hair pulled back, you could see his jaw more distinctively -the sharp lines clear from even this far away. (Not that you were looking.) The sun bore down on them but all of the players seemed to be happily distracted. And you kinda were too.

You pursed your lips, for a moment, and looked forward again after a breath, heading toward the cafeteria again confidently.

Before you could get very far, though, you heard a familiar accent.

"Hey!" He yelled, a little distant -footsteps following his voice, "-Hey!"

At first, you weren't sure if he was talking to you, so you kept moving.

"Shit, I don't know what to call you," he called out, breathless and much, much closer.

You spun on your heels with furrowed brows, and met his eyes over a few people's heads. The grin that swallowed his face whole should've been criminal, bright and twinkly and... charming.

Before you could say anything, he was by your side with heavy breaths -assumedly from playing baseball and getting over to you. Leaning over slightly, he leveled out heavy breaths. You were almost concerned enough to offer him water, but he seemed to settle himself before you could.

"Hi," he echoed, "-'Ve been looking for you all morning, what time did you get here?"

You blinked, all morning?

"I get here early, 7, and immediately go to class," you answered, a little blankly (looking for you, looking for you, looking for you).

"Oh," he paused, "-I got here at 8. There's classes at 7?"

"Obviously," you respond, because you did in fact just say it.

"Did you-" Patrick started, before pursing his lips together, "-Are you going to the library now?"

You furrowed your eyebrows, "No, I'm going to the cafeteria to eat between classes. Why?"

"I'm actually quite hungry myself," he avoided the question, "-Do you mind if I tag along?"

"What about your game?" You furrowed your eyebrows even further -eyeing him curiously.

"'S just to fill time," he explained, "-It's nothing serious. They're sure to find someone to fill in for me."

You flicker your eyes along his face, trying to read him. What's your prerogative?

After a moment, you come up with nothing and instead, just turn on your heel -leading the way to the cafeteria.

"I'm taking that as a yes, then?" Patrick called out from behind you, catching up and matching your stride with ease (despite you making no move to slow down).

You decidedly don't answer him, and say something focused elsewhere -eyeing him as you walk forward, "Do you always stalk people this much?"

Patrick laughed, catching your eye with his warm brown ones (they were almost sparkly under the sun of the day), "Only the ones that blindly hate me."

You pressed your lips together in a flat line (trying not to give anything away), "I didn't say that I hated you."

His face lit up at the words (and you couldn't decide if you regretted it or not), "Well, you could've convinced me."

You roll your eyes, and keep walking forward, "Not telling you my personal information isn't... hating you."

"I'm not sure not introducing yourself is exactly anything but hatred," he argued back, fluidly.

"I just told you that I don't hate you," you point out, "-so it isn't."

"Does that mean you'll eventually tell me your name?" Patrick asked, curiously.

You turned to him, flicked your eyes over him, and then looked forward again, "Maybe on good behavior."

He burst into laughter, brown eyes set on your face, "You're quite an enigma, you know that?"

"And you're not half the mystery you portray," you fire back, naturally, with the flow of the conversation.

He grinned at that, eyes shining with something you couldn't quite label, "You know, I don't think I've met a person like you. You're fearless in like a-" he motioned with his hands, "-casual way."

"I'm not fearless," you argue, approaching the door to the cafeteria, "-I'm just confident."

"Do they not go hand-in-hand?" Patrick offers, getting to the door before you and promptly holding it open for you -unflinchingly.

Something warm stirs in your stomach at the gesture (and his woodsy scent that brushes your nose as you walk past him), but you ignore it, "You can be certain and still be afraid."

"But knowing you're right doesn't necessarily mean-" Patrick followed you in, matching your stride again, as if it's natural, "-that you're confident."

You furrow your eyebrows, genuinely intrigued, "What do you mean?"

He paused, maybe a little shocked by your attentiveness, "Plenty of people know they're right and still concede to someone else because they don't want to fight it. You-" he pointed at you, "-will fight it."

"Well," you purse your lips, avoiding his eye contact, "-maybe I'm only like this with you."

"You," Patrick paused, "-You're not this fiery ball of rage with anyone else?"

You eye him for a second, before saying flatly, "Maybe."

"All of this seething hatred and impressive indifference just for me?" He grins, the big teeth-showing kind, "-I'm touched really. Because I am special to you in some weird kinda twisted way-"

Before you can stop yourself, you let out a laugh at his words -just a quick one. Barely there.

But you could still see the delight smooth along his face, and just knew he caught it.

"How much of that have you been holding back?" He tilted his head curiously, before continuing to push it, smirking, "-Oh I bet you think I'm hilarious."

Your heart skipped a beat at the smirk, and you simply pressed your lips together and turned on your heel to the food counter. There wasn't even a second before you heard footsteps following you.

"You're not denying it, you know," he called after you, close on your tail.

You peer over the selection of food, eyeing the different items thoughtfully, "But I didn't confirm it either."

"Still not denying it," Patrick hummed, sing-songy.

"You know," you turn to him (mindlessly noting that he is very close), sharply, "-someone can have one good joke and still be unfunny."

He leaned forward slightly, eyes set on yours -challenging, "Then tell me why it came out like you were holding it back?"

You blinked at him, once and then twice, the sudden closeness sent a shock through your brain and the challenging tone of his voice nearly gave you full-body shivers. You can't find words to say, and you can nearly see it processing on Patrick's face (the way that he had made your mind melt for a moment), so you turn to the counter and point at something random for them to pick out for you.

The woman eyes the two of you suspiciously, but still diligently pulls out a to-go plate and piles the... mashed potatoes onto it.

"Oh my god," he finally says after a moment (you ignore it).

You go through a few other items, and the woman gathers them onto the plate. You pay, grab your plate-

"You like me," Patrick retorts, and you're not even looking at him but you can tell he's got a shit-eating grin.

Your brain malfunctions for a moment, but you step toward the tables and fire back (on autopilot), "I won't even tell you my name."

He's hot on your trail, following you diligently, "You're avoiding the question."

You spin to him, and reply -sharply, "You didn't ask a question."

His eyes flicker along your face, taking you in (you want to squirm but you steel yourself in place -your eyes now challenging), and then he grins so bright that you'd need sunglasses in any other scenario.

"Oh, you're really into me," he continues, low, gravelly, accented voice rumbling through your ears.

You screw up your face into something defiant, roll your eyes, and turn back to slide into a table. Patrick follows you like a lost puppy. Well, an incredibly arrogant lost puppy.

"You're still not denying it," he slides into the chair beside you and you hate the way your brain swims at the woodsy smell that brushes your nose.

"'Thought you were hungry," you say, simply (avoiding the question and decidedly not denying).

"It was very obviously a ploy," Patrick chimed back, with natural ease -tilting his head slightly and looking at you with twinkling eyes, "-They had pizza out there for all the players. I've already eaten."

Your fork froze for a millisecond (even still, you were sure he caught it), and after a moment, you pulled it to your lips. Maybe conquering both of your lack of response and the way your mind lit up at the idea of 'he just wanted to see me'.

His smile and eyes seemed to soften slightly, as he leaned his head down to catch your eye and guide it back up to your natural gaze (your heart skipped a beat). His brown eyes were soft and if you were honest, maybe a little affectionate.

"What's your name?" He finally said after a soft few moments.

And just like that, for you, the moment snapped, and you rolled your eyes -turning back to your food.

"Oh, come on," Patrick tried to catch your gaze again, "-Look, I'll tell you. Patrick Verona. That's my name-"

You bit down a smile, as he motioned to you with his hands.

"-Now, your turn, tell me yours."

You raised an eyebrow.

Patrick let out a half-laugh, before leaning forward slightly on the table -not quite a breath away, but certainly closer.

"You're so stubborn," he laughed, "-I'll beg. You want me to beg?"

You can't help but let the smile slip onto your lips then, "Why would you beg for my name?"

"Because I want it," he pointed out, still grinning "-Because I want to know you, and personally, I think it should start with a name."

Your heart fluttered in your chest, and you let your fork hang there on the path to your face. You took a moment, scampered your eyes along his face (dark brown eyes so incredibly soft, curls coming down from where he put them up in individual tendrils). Your resolve was weakening, it was really and truly broken under Patrick Verona's hand.

Stupid pretty boys-

"Y/N," you said finally (quieter than intended), immediately pulling a bite to your mouth.

Patrick blinked, "What?"

"'S my name," you explain -shortly, moving a hand in front of your mouth as you chew, "-Y/N."

His eyes lit up at the words, that stupid charming grin smoothing onto his face as he repeated, softer than expected, "Y/N."

You shove down the fluster that begs to climb up your cheeks at his accented voice saying your name. It's something you'd never really thought about but now that it's said, you probably should've thought about it.

Patrick leaned back in his chair, eyes still set on you. He was still grinning, as he said simply, "Suits you."

You furrow your eyebrows, "What's that supposed to mean?"

He raises his hands in faux surrender, laughing to himself, "Jesus, you're a true ball of rage, you know 'at?"

"I'm not-" you huff out, and take a deep breath in, "-I'm not mad."

"Defensive then," he mends, "-You act as though I'm about to strike any minute."

You pursed your lips, "Whose to say you aren't?"

"Me," Patrick laughs, "-This entire conversation. The way I've acted around you since the beginning-"

"Oh, shut up," you roll your eyes, unable to stop the smile creeping onto your lips, "-you were an asshole once."

He groaned, but something like amusement was twinkling in his eyes, "You are the most stubborn human being on this earth-"

"You took my spot," you interrupt, sturdy.

"-It's public property," Patrick argued back, "-and how was I supposed to know it was yours before I sat in it?"

You paused, for a moment, before saying, "You couldn't. But, you could have given it to me when I asked."

"And then we wouldn't be here," he explained, now fully grinning, "-and wouldn't that just be such a bore."

Your eyes swam over his face a moment, Patrick Verona. And his dumb persistence. And his stupid handsome face-

God.

You let out a long sigh, picking around at your food. Eyes watching the swirl of your fork, you debate a few different things to say. Finally, after a few spare seconds, you made up your mind.

"Yeah," you hum, flickering your eyes up to his, "-it would."

Patrick grinned, big and bright and twinkly (you felt your heart skip a beat in your chest). His eyes, the deep brown that if you weren't careful you could stare at for way too long, were soft but still sort of happy, eager. Definitely eager.

And maybe, just maybe, you could get used to-

"I told you I could work on the 'stranger' thing," he suddenly said, smirking, "-You never should've doubted me."

"What?" You raised an eyebrow, confused.

"You said-" Patrick explained, "-you don't give your name out to strangers. And I said I could work on that part-"

You level a look at him.

"-And look, I did," he continued, before adding with a smirk, "-I have successfully escaped the cavernous barrier, deeper than the ocean I'd say, that walls you off from any poor soul who wishes to know you-"

"You're really pushing it, Verona," you chime back, fiery (but not quite all the way).

"What?" He raised his eyebrows, like he said nothing at all to warrant the reaction, "-You can't tell me that it's not like pulling teeth getting to know you. Or trying to anyway-"

You press your lips onto a flat line, "Wow, you must be a sort of masochist, then?

He faltered for a second, before laughing a little, "Oh absolutely, I chase the high of you ignoring me for 2 hours straight every day."

You rolled your eyes, biting down a smile, "I despise you."

"Better that than indifferent," he responded with ease, "-I prefer you feeling something rather than nothing at all."

"Oh my god-"

It continued like that, a back and forth, as you finish eating your mediocre cafeteria lunch. The silence is sparse but not uncomfortable when Patrick isn't running his mouth, that is. It was nice. Insanely nice. You'd probably never had as much fun on this campus as you did with him, just in general, but...

"Same time Wednesday?" He poses with a cheeky grin, leaning onto one hand against the table -closer to you than before.

You felt something warm swirl into your stomach, as your eyes flickered over his face. He was still smiling, like he wasn't able to stop when he was here with you. And something in you never wanted to see it go away anyway.

So, with a slight head tilt and a brighter grin than what you'd let slip past all day, you repeated.

"Same time Wednesday."

[spacebabesuki]

ok but how do I explain to a normal person that Eddie Munson, Patrick Verona and Eric Draven were written in the same font???????????? long-haired metalheads with the most gorgeous smiles on earth, completely obsessed with their girlfriends like??????????

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

[harritudur]

10 Things I Hate About You  /  Stranger Things s04e01

[popclture]

10 Things I Hate About You (1999)

[ahsxual]

Good evening/morning/afternoon

Could you possibly do a patrick Verona headcannon with an s/o who loves taking care of people, constantly baking things and buying gifts and they're like the parent of the group with basically a never ending supply of everything (plasters, scarves, blankets, medicine etc) in a huge bag

Thank you!!

Pairing: Patrick Verona x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Patrick instantly felt a strange, yet comforting feeling towards you once he noticed that you genuinely care for others: you somehow reminded his late grandfather and how he used to be so caring with him as well

He couldn't stop imagine himself with you by his side and how you would take care of each other so dearly. After all, that's all he wanted: someone who truly cares for him and knows him well, without any kind of judgment. Our poor baby just wants to be loved, be understood and love back

You eventually discovered that Patrick is actually a great cooker, so you usually bake things together and have lots of fun, since he can't hold himself to make a joke here and there

He loved spoiling you with gifts himself, so you both often fight for other's attention to prove who loves the other more, until you realized that gifts meant nothing in comparison to your physical love and deep emotional bond

Patrick considers himself the “father“ of his friend group, not allowing them to get drunk or get hurt in parties, so it was funny when you told him everyone sees you as the "Mom Friend" of the group as well. You definitely hear your friends calling you the parents of the friend group, and how you both would be so protective of your own children

He also finds it funny the fact that you carry a kit of first supplies with you, saying that you care way too much for others and how is it possible for someone to be as kind as you

"I'm not religious princess, but you're definitely convincing me that angels actually exist." or "My girlfriend/boyfriend is a goddamn nurse?! I must have won the lottery! " he would say to you, making you blush at his funny compliments towards you

Patrick genuinely feels so lucky to have you as his romantic partner and is so proud of you... he wouldn't change you for no one or anything in this world

[ledgerserious8]

Shoulder To Cry On | Patrick Verona & Reader

Warning : Don't copy my writing Don't steal my writing. All rights are reserved for my writing

Genre : High School Christmas Eva Love Confession

Summary : After you get your bag from stealing you find something into it..

Word count : 1.4k

You was looking at the light of the moon it's was one of Christmas nights and you was breathing slowly trying to get a free moment

The air from the sky coming towards your window and made your shiny hair started moving slowly the light of the moon on your face making your expression more clear

And you smiled to yourself..

Because you can handle yourself this morning and get your black bag after someone unknown in the high school steal it

You was happy that you was strong because that's how your parents teaching you to be

However you was smart person and you was the only one who ignoring Patrick Verona the bad boy of your high school

A lot of girls was having crush on him especially your bestfriend Katarina "Kat" Stratford the girl with blonde hair

She had always talking to you about Patrick and sometimes explaining her love feelings for him to you

But you was a lot different from her you was having dreams and future you didn't care about getting love and be loved

...because you never fall in love before

Sweetie don't forget to eat dinner - your mother explained she in the living room but you still can hear her

Yes mom don't worry - you replied calmly as turned your head to your room noticed your objects

And your black bag on the table

You get curious feelings into your heart because you didn't open your bag from the morning after you get it back

Your foots walked and you sit down on the chair your fingers grabbed the zip of the bag and somehow you felt nervous from opening it

Come on y/n there's nothing wrong - you thought into your mind trying to calm yourself down

Your fingerstips pulled the zip down to be off and you opened your black bag you signed in relief after seeing there's nothing wrong

But suddenly..your eyes catch a letter was hiding into the bag

It's was a love letter..

You grabbed the letter and looked at it trying to study it but there's no signature and that's made it hard to you to know who

Let's see - you whispered to yourself as opened the letter by your fingers

'My dearest Y/n..

"My beautiful darling. I don't know where to begin..

"I just want you to know that I love you, and I don't know where I would be right now, if it wasn't for you.

"I am nothing without you. And i Swear to"

"I want you to know that I think about you every day. While everyone think about me

'Baby it's you into my heart my mind and my soul"

"I can be the shoulder you will cry on just by simple word from your sweet mouth..."

'That mouth that I'm dreaming of kissing it every night"

"I know that I'm probably not good enough for you... But I hope that you can find a way to love me back.

Your.....

Your eyes was shining as your heart was beating faster than before you could feel there's butterflys into your stomach it's was weird feeling but..

It's was so beautiful and good..too good to be true

You felt high on your cheeks because you was red like tomato but when you heard the steps of your mother coming to your room

You hided the letter into your bag again..

Come on sweetie we're waiting for you - your mother explained calmly after opened the door and looked at you

Yes mom i was just busy cleaning my bag - you lied and smiled because you noticed she believed you

Darling you need to eat and rest come on join us let's enjoy our Christmas nights - your mother explained tenderly as grabbed your arm gently

I know mom i know - you replied calmly as smiling while your eyes was shining

You smiled as standing up and walking with your mother leaving your room for dinner and making it empty for some time

But you will never know the handwriting was from Patrick Verona the bad boy of your high school

But as he wrote into the letter while everyone was thinking him..you was the only person into his mind

He want to be your boyfriend your man the one you put your eyes on and the happiness of your heart

A simple from your mouth will make him..

Shoulder To Cry On

[ashleysolsen]

HEATH LEDGER AS PATRICK VERONA 10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU (1999) dir. Gil Junger

[dearsnow]

TWO MONTHS

- work is taking a heavy toll on your boyfriend. (patrick verona x gn!reader, angst and slight fluff, established relationship)

word count: 657

a/n - another patrick fic :) i love him so much it’s not even funny. he’s my current hyperfixation- that being said, to all my patrick lovers out there, i’m planning a 3 part series for him <3 it’s called the summer before senior year and hopefully i get around to finishing it lol

Patrick closes the door to your apartment with a heavy sigh. The day rests heavily on his hunched shoulders, leaking through his pores as grease and dejection. You stir from your place on the couch. It’s 12:24 AM, and he is just returning from work. His hair is messy, tied up in a frizzy ponytail, and his eyes hold no sparkle. He doesn’t look like himself anymore. Your brows furrow, the weight of his condition nearly bringing tears to your eyes.

“Pat, it’s past midnight.” You murmur, reaching up to cradle his face in your hands. There is a smudge of dirt on his face, which you wipe away with delicate fingers. He melts under your touch. “This isn’t healthy.” He takes both of your hands in his, kissing each one gently.

“I have to.” He grimaces. “Rent’s gone up, baby. You know that.” You lead him to your bed. The sheets are messy, as they always are. In his exhaustion, he does not care; not like he ever did, anyways. “The boys at the car shop offered me this, and I took it.” It hurts you so badly to see him like this. He seems flat, dull, lifeless. Nothing like the Patrick you met, and nothing like you ever wish him to be again. You need him to be happy. He deserves it, if nothing else. He deserves everything good- he deserves the sunshine and tender love and a quiet kiss of calm, but you can only offer him so much.

He lays back, and you pull the sheets over his chest. “I can take a second job.” You say, tracing circles on his chest. He’s too tired to take off his clothes, and you won’t force him to. He’ll be out of the house by 5:00, and he needs all the sleep he can get. He shakes his head at your suggestion, looking at you with soft eyes.

“You have college and the diner already. You’re stretched as thin as you can be.” He whispers, threading his hand through yours again.

“I still have free hours. Not much, but enough to get you some proper rest.” You manage to say. The bags under his eyes speak for themselves. He’ll end up dead if he keeps working like this. You can’t do this without him, any of it. If he dies, if he ends up in some hospital being fed by the few coins you have left dripping through his veins, you wouldn’t be able to handle it. You would gladly work every hour of every day just to see him healthy again. That isn’t realistic, though, and you know it. He’ll never let you take on that burden. You love him for it, but sometimes, his stubborn nature takes hold of him.

“No. This works, what we’re doing. We’ll be fine.” His voice is scratchy and low, but with just enough force to let you know he means it. When he looks at your face, eyes shining with unshed tears, his heart shatters. He kisses your hands again. “I promise, baby, we’ll be out of this soon enough. In two months we’ll have the money to take a break for a little bit. I’ll work lighter hours and we might even have enough saved to take you out on a proper date.” He smiles. You laugh quietly, though the sound is choked. Hot tears force themselves out of your eyes.

“Two months.” You repeat. He nods. “Two long ass fucking months.”

He starts to laugh, slowly at first, until you join. You wrap your arms around him as you giggle into his chest, and his whole body is shaking with the force of his snickering. 

“Two goddamn bitches of months.” He offers, still grinning like a madman. He laughs, and you laugh in his arms, and for the first time in a long time, you think that things might end up working out.

Taglist (misc): @skeletonfromthecloset

[saramelaniemoon]

Eddie Munson and Patrick Verona are the same person and you can't convince me otherwise...

part 1

Cool bad boy appearance which means ofc:

Smoking (when someone doesn't stop them)

Drinking (beer as a necessity and probably hobby at this point)

School menace starter pack

[deadpoets]

10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU (1999) dir. Gil Junger

[miss-americana-reputation]

love her madly

patrick verona x reader

warnings- smut 18+, fluff, oral (m receiving), daddy kink, spitting, name calling aka degrading, dacryphilia

inspired by love her madly- the doors

—————————————————————

“i got it.” i call out as patrick knocks on the door. “hi.” i smile and open it to see him smiling there. “hey.” he smiles back, softly kissing the side of my lips. “you’re early.” i point out, inviting him in. “wanna make a good impression.” he responds.

“okay, dad.” i call out, pulling him deeper into the house. i drag him into the living room to where my dad sits, watching tv. “yeah- oh.” he says, looking at us.

“this is patrick, my boyfriend.” i smile. “nice to meet you, sir.” he reaches to shake his hand. my dad shakes it and looks him up and down before letting go.

eventually i pull him away and into the kitchen where my mom is finishing up. “who’s this?” my mom smiles. “patrick, my boyfriend.” i introduce him. “nice to meet you patrick.” she smiles. “nice to meet you too, ma’am.” he smiles.

“dear.” she changes her attention to you. “hm?” i hum. “remember, we gonna have to cut dinner a bit short. the patterson’s invited me and your dad to a cocktail party.” she explains. “got it. i’ll clean up.” i softly smile. “perfect,” she says, wiping off her hands, “go make the table while i finish up.” she smiles.

i nod and pull out plates and silverware, handing the plates to patrick. we set down plates and cups. “wanna go get my dad?” i whisper to him as i follow behind him with silverware while he sets cups down. “i think he wants to kill me.” he whispers back. “i’ll go.” he sighs as he finishes and i smile as he leaves.

i help bring the dishes to the table as they come into the kitchen.

eventually we all get situated and we start eating. “food’s lovely, ma’am.” patrick smiles at my mom. “thank you.” she responds. “so any plans for after graduation?” my dad asks. “i’m planning on working at the music store at main street.” he smiles.

“oh isn’t that nice. been meaning to check that one out.” my mom smiles. we continue to eat for a moment, i softly take his hand under the table. i squeeze it one time for a check in, and he squeezes it back once to say he’s okay.

“so you do anything outside of school?” my dad asks. “yeah, i like to fix up cars, but your daughter seems to take up a lot of my time.” he answers, trying to get a laugh out of my dad. “oh. a future mechanic, huh.” he nods before eating.

dinner went by painfully awkward, eventually my mom and dad freshen up for the party and we finished eating then cleaning up.

“i think he hates me.” he sighs, carrying the last of the dishes to the sink. “he just needs to warm up to you.” i respond, washing off the plates. “do i smell like cigarettes? knew i should’ve not smoked today.” he asks.

“you’re fine, most dads don’t like their daughter dating people.” i smile. “hm. he thinks i’m a failure.” he sighs. “he doesn’t, i promise. he’s just tough.” i smile.

“okay, we’re heading out.” my mom walks into the kitchen. “okay.” i smile. “see you tomorrow. it was nice to meet you patrick.” my mom smiles. they leave as i finish up.

“okay.” i smile. he immediately presses his lips onto mine, lightly shoving me into the counter. “oh.” i hum against him. “sorry, i’ve been holding back all night.” he pants. i smile against him and pull him back.

he sneaks his hands down to my ass and he gropes them while he slips his tongue into my mouth, his easily winning dominance.

“pat.” i pant out. “hm?” he hums, moving down to my neck. “wanna go- fuck- upstairs.” i say. “okay.” he smiles. we move upstairs, stealing kisses and he slaps my ass a couple of times.

we reach my room and i pull him inside, quickly shutting and locking the door behind us. he pulls me on top of him on my bed. he connects our lips and it’s heated, clashing teeth and tongues fighting for dominance, which he quickly wins.

“please.” i moan, sneaking my hand down between us and palming him. his hand grabs mine and he flips us over. “did i say you could?” he spits. “sorry.” i apologize. “naughty girl.” he says.

he moves so he’s standing and i’m laying on the bed. “come on. kneel.” he demands. i follow his commands and kneel before him. “can i?” i ask, motioning to his fly.

“yeah.” he nods. i undo his belt and unzip his fly, then pull down his pants just a little bit. he helps me and pulls down his black boxers. his member pops out, slapping against his stomach. “shit.” he sighs, stroking himself.

“please.” i whine. “what do you want?” he asks. “fuck my mouth.” i swap his hand with mine and slowly stroke him. “yeah? want to have you throat fucked?” he smiles and i nod.

i take him in my mouth and he slowly thrusts into my mouth. “shit.” he takes my hair in his hands and uses it as leverage. i moan against him and he tightens his hand. “didn’t anyone teach you to not speak with a full mouth?” he taunts.

he continues to use me while i look up at him. “fucking slut.” he groans. i squeeze my thighs together for a bit of friction. “fucking pathetic.” he lowly laughs.

“wanna tell me who’s your real daddy?” he slows down. he pulls out and i catch my breath. “y-you. you’re my real daddy.” i look up at him, with pure submission in my eyes.

“good little slut.” he says, snapping his cock back into my mouth. “jesus.” he groans as i play with his balls. he continues to thrust into my mouth so i gag around him.

he uses my mouth like i mean nothing to him. i squeeze my hips together even more, trying to cause some friction. “look at you.” he smirks at my thighs. that just fuels him as he continues to fuck me.

i moan against him and he lets out a loud groan. i meet his eyes as i feel drool slip out from the corners of my mouth. he continues to fuck me and some tears fall down my face.

“aw. pretty baby is crying? you look so pathetic. choking on daddy’s dick.” he taunts. “shit.” he sucks in a sharp breath. “getting close baby.” he warns.

his hips become sloppy as he gets closer and closer. “oh fuck.” he sighs. “you’re treating me so well.” he praises. i let him fuck me as he eventually pulls out.

he finishes himself by stroking his cock and his seed goes all over my face. “shit, fuck.” he sighs as he finishes. he calms down and softly taps his cock against my head.

“here.” he says and quick runs to my bathroom. he comes back with a towel and helps me clean up. “you look so pretty.” he smiles as i finish cleaning up. “thanks.” i smile.

i go and wash my face and get ready for bed. i finish and join him in bed. “hi.” i croak out a bit as i lay down against him. “hey.” he smiles back. “you’re gonna be able to talk?” he asks and pulls me against him. “maybe.” i smile.

he softly laughs and kisses the top of my head. “you know i can’t stay?” he whispers after a moment. “mhm.” i nod. “where you disappearing off to?” i ask. “probably the same bar as normal.” he answers. “okay.” i nod.

“i love you.” he whispers. “i love you.” i whisper back. “i’ll stay until you sleep, how’s that sound?” he asks. “that works.” i nod as i’m already half asleep. “i’ll take you out for lunch tomorrow.” he promises. “okay.” i softly smile. “mhm.” he nods.

———

[emeritusemeritus]

Fred Weasley kisses exactly like this, you can’t change my mind.

He has a specific chuckle that you only ever hear just before his lips touch yours, a boyish sound that’s deep and breathy and makes your heart race.

His long, slender fingers tuck your hair back from your face- those little pesky strands that fall into your face no matter how hard you try to tame them. His fingers lodge into your hair and cup the side of your face, your head or your jaw whilst his other hand reaches for your hip, holding your body close to his.

It’s often teasing and drawn out but sometimes soft and sweet- and always a surprise as to which kind of kiss you’ll get.

His big nose presses into your cheek and you can always hear the sound of his chuckle echoing in your mind as you kiss, your thoughts entirely consumed by him.

The way he looks at you before his lips touch yours and just after he pulls away makes you feel like you’re the only person in the room, especially when he smiles and winks at you afterwards.

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

Favorite Otps/Pairings: Patrick Verona & Kat Stratford (10 Things I Hate About You) “I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair I hate the way you drive my car I hate it when you stare I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind I hate you so much it makes me sick it even makes me rhyme I hate it...I hate the way you're always right I hate it when you lie I hate it when you make me laugh even worse when you make me cry I hate it when you're not around and the fact that you didn't call But mostly, I hate the way I don't hate you, not even close not even a little bit, not even at all"