A Series Of Patrick Stump Imagines

This Ain't A Scene It's An Arms Race

     "At night we're painting your trash gold while you sleep! Crashing not like hips or cars, no more like p-p-parties!"

     "And, cut!" The director yelled. Then he pointed to me. "Go take your place, and then run up and kiss Patrick passionately!"

     "What?!" I shriek. Not that I had a problem with it.

     "For the music video! We might use it! You know what? Let's take a ten, everyone, we've been working pretty hard."

     "So you're the one that's supposed to run up and kiss me."

     I turned around. Patrick Stump was right beind me. "Yep, that's me!" After a few weeks of working on this music video, I managed to stop fangirling every time one of the band members was close to me. "Problem with it Pattycakes?"

    "Not at all, Y/N. Just enjoy it. Not many girls get the chance."

     "A bit narcissistic, Stump. Pete might be rubbing off on you."

     "My name was metioned, now I have been summoned. Aloha, amigos, ça va?"

     "Pete, aloha is Hawiian for hello and goodbye, amigos is Spanish for friends, and ça is French for how's it going. Those three languages aren't supposed to mix."

     "Oops," he shrugged.

     "Alright, places everyone! And action!"

     "I grabbed Patrick and pulled him into a long, passionate kiss. His pink lips were soft. When we finally pulled away, Patrick and I both out of breath and flushed. My lips tingled from the kiss.

     "Woah," murmured Patrick,"We should meet up again and do that sometimes. Would you like to meet up for dinner?"

     "Yes, I'd love to!"

     "I called it! Pay up, Trohman!" Pete whooped.

A/N: Deal with my author's notes, people. Anyway, I have some better ideas for imagines- right now it's late- it's nine in the afternoon! I will update both my stories ASAP.
-Phoenix