Sweetheart. (Patrick Stump Imagines)

beat up and worked up

3rd Person's P.O.V.

Y/N had just finished taking her night shower after a long day of work. The cool night breeze blended smoothly with the fresh, faint smell of sweet old rose from her body wash.

She was expecting for her husband to come home from the studio anytime now, since it's already ten in the evening.

Patrick doesn't really have a fixed time schedule, since he and his band mates are in the process of recording their new upcoming album.

He hasn't been staying up late at night, but often times he would sNAP or suddenly jolt from a deep sleep when an idea for a lyric or the instruments would form in his head and he has to write it down or record it quickly; that's one of the changes that Y/N have observed with Patrick.

It puts her in awe that Patrick's way of making music evolves through time and that he just never stops being passionate with what he does together with his best friends. She's just so proud of how far he's come and how much he's grown in all aspects.

Y/N wasn't expecting anything for this night, but something about his husband's favorite mug shattering on the floor seem to say otherwise.

She quickly cleaned up the mess as Patrick parked his car in their basement.

Meanwhile, Patrick winced as he got out of his car and slammed the door shut. He got into a fist fight with one of his best friends and his band mate, Pete.

It was because Pete got drunk in the studio. Getting drunk wasn't really an issue with Patrick or anyone, but it got out of control. Pete poured out an entire bottle of vodka on the electronic soundboard and it's gonna take a while to have it replaced and installed.

Patrick just lost it. He wasn't that much for violence, but for him, what Pete did was nowhere near forgivable. At least for now.

That also means that their recording will be postponed for a couple of days.

Which also means that the set release date for their album might be moved.

Patrick grabbed a pebble and angrily threw it on the concrete.

Soon, heavy steps entered the house and Y/N knew that it was Patrick and she could tell that he wasn't at all in a good mood.

She turned around and audibly gasped once she saw her husband's bloody and beaten up frame. "Patrick!" She loudly called as she rushed to her fuming husband.

Patrick took off his backpack and his jacket and roughly threw it on the couch in the living room, which he missed so those ended up falling on the floor.

Y/N rested her hand on his chest. This has always calmed him down.

Patrick let out a breath as he faced his wife and leaned his back on the wall. Her touch had always done magic in his being, which most of the time was beyond comprehension. He loves it. He loves her.

Patrick's eyes softened and soon stung with tears as his anger, frustration, and disappointment dissolved into tears.

Y/N cradled the side of Patrick's face and was very careful not to brush near the areas with gashes.

Patrick clenched his jaw as he tried to fight the tears that stung behind his eyeballs, but with what Y/N is doing, it's impossible to keep up the facade.

Y/N instinctively pulled her husband in a tender hug. She felt Patrick's arms tighten around her torso as his hands claw on her back.

Patrick let the tears stream from his eyes as he melted in his wife's arms.

"Love," Y/N gently spoke by his husband's ear. "You look so fucking hot when you're bloody and beaten." She said, not being able to keep a straight serious tone of voice for a long time.

Both of them erupted into fits of laughter, still wrapped in each other's hug. "That's romantic of you to say, amor." Patrick responded, giggling.

Y/N smiled and quickly kissed his temple.

It was silent again and Patrick was feeling a bit better from crying and laughing. Patrick sighed and then told Y/N the story of what happened at the studio that led to Patrick being beat.

Soon, Patrick was sitting on the island countertop while Y/N was between his legs, gently tapping a hydrogen peroxide soaked cotton ball on the gashes on his face and knuckles.

Patrick couldn't help but wince and groan in between his stories

Y/N kissed her husband's knuckles. "Good music sure ain't made fast, love." She stated. "Besides, the real question is, what made Pete get that drunk?"

Patrick rolled his eyes. "Y/N, you're supposed to be on my side. Don't guilt-trip me."

Y/N chuckled as she pressed a cotton ball on a gash on his cheekbone.

"Patrick, I know that you know Pete best. It must cross your mind now that he could be going through something that led him to break like that."

He scoffed bitterly. "I bet he was zonked out from coke."

Y/N slapped Patrick on his chest. "Patrick." She said in a warning tone.

"I'm just really pissed, okay? Words of sympathy are absent in my vocabulary at least for tonight."

It was Y/N's turn to scoff and purposely press the cotton ball a bit harder on the exposed bleeding skins on his face.

Patrick hissed as he retracted his head back. "Y/N." He whined. "I thought you said I looked so fucking hot in this." Patrick pointed to his face, wearing a mischievous smirk as he intently watched his wife's reaction.

Y/N decided to play with. She wanted to. "Yeah, I did. So?" She raised a brow as she dropped the cotton ball on the floor and crossed her arms.

"I should get beat up on a daily basis then, so I could watch you get visibly worked up regularly." Patrick boldly stated.

That made Y/N's temperature rise which blazed a flush across her cheeks.

Patrick bit his lip as he leaned forward until their foreheads are touching.

Y/N was already out of breath and she could feel her heart beat speeding up and pounding against her chest as cold and warmth played through her nerves. She raised her face up a bit, just close enough for their lips to brush against each other very slightly.

Patrick visibly shivered at the simple contact. "I want to make your body ache just as much as I do now, baby." He spoke in rough low voice then gently bit Y/N's bottom lip afterwards, making Y/N softly moan in excitement and pleasure.

Y/N's body sparked to life as she instinctively wrapped an arm around Patrick, closing the distance between them with their lips molding and moving against each other in harmony as her other free hand snaked behind Patrick's head, gently tugging on his hair as their kiss got heated.

Patrick proceeded to tugging Y/N's shirt upwards but was soon stopped by the sharp ringing of the doorbell which made Y/N accidentally bite on Patrick's split lip.