#10tihay

[deadpoets]

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

[aaronstveit]

But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.

[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

[pzyii]

I love when a ship is Loser Guy TM X The Most Awesome Woman of All Time but they're both just as hopelessly in love

[luckythr33]

movie bedrooms 🤍

[mrkeatingsblazer]

Cameron James from ttihay is the best man every and no one can beat my high ass standards bc of him

[crimsonncloverhoney]

me and who 𝜗𝜚

[thedeerestdoll]

described me

[iheathyou]

Behind The Scenes - Heath Ledger on the set of 10 Things I Hate About You, (1999).

cr: DVDXtras.

[rosesloveletters]

Love Potion.

pairing: Patrick Verona x Reader

word count: 801 (less is more with this one)

warnings: angst

summary: Reader reflects on their almost-marriage to Patrick Verona years after it’s all been said and done. 

author’s note: Yes, I wrote another sad fic. I’ve had this in my head since last October. Based on a song...guess which one. 

Unedited.

A lot could be said for all the sleepless nights, the grieving in slow-motion and the oblivion that followed, if you weren’t too exhausted to do so. For the last several years, you’d retreated from the world, hidden in plain sight, as it were, and you found solitude in the mundane. An average life for an average soul and that sentiment only bothered you as much as you were willing to admit.

You didn’t know what Patrick was doing now or if he had moved on. You hardly thought about him these days. Much had changed now that the two of you had grown up and apart; you were adults now and the impulses of youth that shrouded your past relationship had faded with time. The wounds were only so deep, but if you pick at a scab, it’s bound to open and that was the last thing you wanted.

You couldn’t say why he was on your mind. Something had reminded you of him, you were certain. Perhaps a whiff of peppermint had wafted into your nostrils and suddenly you were five years younger, sitting on the school bleachers next to your high school sweetheart, Patrick Verona, who was sucking on a peppermint candy he pulled out of his jeans pocket. He always used to carry them around with him. “It hides the smell of the cigarette smoke” he told you then in that thick, velveted Australian accent of his that always settled into the pit of your stomach just right.

He was like Christmas.

Senior year was rough on you both. You went off to college and Patrick got a technical degree to become a mechanic. He liked cars and was good with his hands. He made decent money and the hours weren’t the worst he’d ever had. He liked to work and it kept his mind off the fact that you weren’t there.

That must have been culprit. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, except when you’re two young adults trying to figure out the rest of your lives and where you fit in the other’s story.

Patrick was an impulsive young man. He made snap-decisions, but he had to live with them after and that was trouble. You loved his half-baked ideas, when he would beg you to skip class with him during fifth period so he could take you to the mall or the park. It was a lot easier to date Patrick when there were no strings attached. You had your whole lives ahead of you, why settle for a smaller picture?

You loved him. If you hadn’t known it then, you did now.

Why hadn’t you told him so more often?

Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter. You had said it enough times to convince him to propose.

At the time, the worst things you could think of were losing your job, failing an exam, never reaching your goals. You never stopped to think about how much worse it would be to have to put a wedding ring on your finger.

You didn’t have the time to devote to a full-time marriage. You had spent your whole life striving to reach the point where you could be fully independent, and you were ready to take the moment and taste it; there must be another way.

Who gave you the right to break his heart?

Patrick was too nice. He did things just for you, he built his life around the promise of a future with you, but when you asked for it, he gave you your freedom just the same and you craved the hurt it brought.

Patrick was sunshine, but you felt more comfortable in the dark.

You wanted the pain the came with a clean break and you wouldn’t have been able to cut him off any other way.

You had changed after high school; your lover stayed the same.

You had led him on and that was your fault. It didn’t have to end this way, but sometimes you just don’t know the answer until someone asks the question and you wished you had been more prepared for the fallout.

At least now you were unbound.

You wondered if he ever thought of you and the answer came, years later. It was a postcard and Christmas never looked so good.

He had a family and that was what was supposed to happen, only it would’ve been your arm around him, your lips on his cheek and your children wearing big smiles and even bigger holiday sweaters.

From all appearances, your Patrick, ‘Peppermint’ you remember you used to call him, had moved on.

He still thought of you when it mattered and it always had to him.

And life went on.

You never thought of him again, except on nights like this.

[lonesomedreamer]

10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU (2009)

1x01 → 1x07

[deadpoets]

SIMONE’S 1K CELEBRATION 🤠 + little women or 10 things i hate about you for @delilahsbard

[blueberryjune]

Julia Stiles as ‘Kat Stratford’ on the set of “10 things I hate about you” (1999) dir. Gil Junger

[dearsnow]

I WOULD DO IT AGAIN

Part 1 || Part 2

- after the disastrous events of last night’s party, patrick comes back to dig out the truth (patrick verona x gn!reader, fluff, ⚠️ themes of alcohol / being drunk, this is the second part).

word count: 1457

a/n - it’s done!!!!! tysm to the people that read and enjoyed part one. i’m planning to write for patrick more, so stick around if you want to :) once again, this is inspired by the vibes of francesca by hozier

You wake to dappled sunlight filtering through your dust-speckled blinds. Your eyes flutter closed again as the gentle caresses of the morning are giving you a splitting headache- that, or the sheer amount of alcohol you downed last night. You move to pull the covers over your head, but your sheets are stuck on the corner of your bed. You just slip down further instead, groaning at the needling pains attacking your forehead.

When you try to think of the events of last night, past the time you spent dancing to the beat of pulsing strobe lights, very little comes to mind. Even the dancing is blurry. A warm voice, maybe, and the cold night air. The stars, spinning. Everything being blurry and broken and tinged with blue. God, your head hurts. You put your hand on your forehead, trying to soothe the ache.

When your front door opens, breaking your early-morning silence, you curse the god that sent your parents home so early. You will never know peace today.

Your door creaks open, and you snuggle down under your covers until your feet are almost hanging off the bed. You can’t let them know you’ve been out drinking. You hope they just think you’re being a moody teenager, too chronically tired to wake up earlier than 10:00 AM.

“You up?” The voice is rich, deep, and lightly accented. It’s definitely not your parents.

You shuffle up, poking your head out of your mess of blankets. You wince as your headache spits more of its fire.

“Pat?” Your throat is dry, and it’s reflected in your words. They come out scratchy and hoarse, and you wrinkle your nose at how pathetic you must look and sound. Does he know what happened when you got wasted?

Like he can read your mind, he closes the door and sits down on your bed. “You were pretty fucking wild last night. Got me worried.”

“You? Worried? About me?” You laugh, voice still on the rocks. “Usually it’s the other way around.”

Patrick smiles, but there’s something sad laced between his teeth. It shows through his eyes, how his dark brown irises look at you like a mourning dog. You sit up.

“What even happened at the party?” You ask. “I don’t even remember you being there.” You must’ve done something horrific to make him look like that. Did you flip off a police officer or scream at him?

Usually, you’re put together. A model citizen, even. Usually, you’re the one influencing him to be better. Usually, usually. Last night was definitely not a usual night.

His smile disappears from his lips, and a worried frown replaces it. He knows he has to bring it up. He debated it over and over in his head at home. Even on the trip to your house he was still trying to decide if he should tell you or not. He knows, though, that if he was the one drunk out of his mind, you would tell him the truth. You wouldn’t keep it from him. Besides, the burn inside him aches to know if what you said was true. “You said something stupid.” He mutters.

You internally punch yourself but groan out loud. You knew it. Why did you ever let yourself get that drunk? You should’ve just stayed home.

“What did I say?”

“You said…” He looks away, and you can’t help but notice how he keeps avoiding eye contact. “You said you loved me.”

That kickstarts your heart. Now your chest is pounding and you can hear the ringing in your head. You can feel the pulsing heat, the burn that comes with this.

“I know you didn’t mean it. People do stupid shit when they’re drunk. Don’t worry about it.” He says gruffly. He moves to stand up, but in a you grab his hand after a brief moment of hesitation.

You do love him. So, so much. “I wasn’t lying.” You whisper, and his eyes widen the slightest bit.

For a minute, you remember that this was exactly how he looked last night. Curls wild, the smell of smoke clinging to his body. And you love him just as fiercely now as you did then.

“You don’t regret it?” His voice shakes a little at the end of his sentence.

You’re panicking now. You’ve never done anything like this before, and today was not the day you were planning on starting. Every single possibility is racing through your mind, and you feel like you might throw up, but you have to tell the truth. You’ve gotten this far already- it would be cruel to leave your best friend hanging.

“I would do it again. Sober, I mean. I love you.”

You stare up at him, and he stares back at you. His eyes are broken like shattered glass, and when he sees you in his cracked lenses, the tears beginning to well up in your eyes could almost be glue.

It’s true. You actually love him, and it wasn’t just a stupid drunken confession. You didn’t latch on to the first friendly face you saw. You love him, of all people. Him. Patrick.

“You do?” His voice is quiet and just a little hoarse. His mind is reeling. Your words play like a mantra in his head, repeating over and over until the word “love” sounds like a made-up sound meant to rhyme with “dove” in a children’s novel. “Why?”

He isn’t deserving of it, he thinks. He could never deserve a love as great, as gentle, as beautiful as yours. He always assumed he would love in hellfire and smashed plates. Never once did he consider that you loved him back, and that he could have someone as good as the person staring back at him with messy hair and soft eyes.

You tilt your head. Why? He should know why by now. “I mean, what isn’t to love? You say it all the time.” He looks terrified and elated all at once.

“Well, yeah, but why?” He moves closer to you, his weight causing your bed to dip. The sheets wrinkle under his touch and the sunlight is bleeding through his hair. You have never seen anything more beautiful before.

“I love you because you’re funny. Not just in the class clown way, but you’re really genuinely funny. You always make me laugh every time I’m having a bad day. And you’re caring and strong and supportive. I mean, I’m pretty sure you were the one that took me home last night. You care about everyone a lot more than you seem to think. You’re talented, too, and really smart.” He snorts at that, and you add on. “Yeah, I know, you skip classes and stuff but you catch onto things quickly. And you’re good at figuring out how to work my appliances, which can come in handy.” You take a breath. “What I’m trying to say, Pat, is that I really do like you. In a serious, genuine, love-filled way.”

You feel the ramble lifting an incredible weight off your shoulders. You got it out, after so long of loving the boy that grew to be your best friend. It’s done. Even if he doesn’t love you back, at least you’re not carrying this intense, heartbreaking burden.

Patrick opens his mouth slightly, then closes it as he thinks about his words.

“That’s good.”

You feel it all coming back down to crush you.

“Good?”

“Yeah, good. ‘Cuz I love you too.”

And suddenly, you’re flying. It barely feels real, and you smile harder than you ever have in your entire life. “You do?”

You feel his rough hands come up to settle on your face, and you relish the warmth. He’s so close you can feel his breath fanning over your nose.

“Of course I do. You’re a catch.” He says. You laugh, he smiles, and he leans in further. You feel his slightly chapped lips on yours, and suddenly, nothing else in the world has any significance.

It’s gentle and soft, despite his rough edges. You can feel his curls tickling your chin, and he smiles into the kiss. When he pulls away, you’re left with the tingling sensation of touch and a heart that’s beating a mile a minute.

“I liked that.” You grin, breathless and wild. His cheeks are flushed.

“You better get used to it, then. There’s more where ‘that’ came from.” His thumb draws circles on your cheek.

He dips to the side, tilting his head to whisper something into your ear.

“Unless, of course, you actually do regret it.”

The corners of your mouth lift up involuntarily as you whisper something into his.

“Like I said, I would do it again.”

[moonyssmommyy]

~Sirius Black Variants~

(These are all from left to right btw)

Top Row: Dean Winchester, Conan Gray, and Eddie Munson

Middle Row: Flynn Rider, Johanna Mason, and Patrick Verona

Bottom Row: Richie Tozier, Harry Hook, and Tony Stark

✨TV Shows & Movies (+1 Celeb)✨

Dean Winchester is from Supernatural (TV Show)

Conan Gray is a Celeb (Singer)

Eddie Munson is from Stranger Things (TV Show)

Flynn Rider is from Tangled (Movie)

Johanna Mason is from Catching Fire (TV Show)

Patrick Verona is from 10 Things I Hate About You (Movie)

Richie Tozier is from It (Movie)

Harry Hook is from Descendants 2 (Movie)

Tony Stark is from Iron Man (Movie)

I know these are very different characters but I have so many versions of Sirius in my head and I'm just hoping you guys get the vision 😭

[thewizardinyourgeneralarea]

I love this movie with my soul