Patrick Stump Imagines

Secrets (Part 6)

He groaned as you straddled him on the chair, looking into his eyes without a care if he liked it or not.

"I'm sorry, baby. I really didn't mean it," you whispered as you buried your face onto his neck and blew a breath on it. He shivered at your intimate attempt and wrapped his arms around your torso.

He sighed. "I know, (Y/N). I just hope that, well, you didn't enjoy it or thought of him otherwise. He's still my best friend, you know."

You stopped your actions and moved your face to his chest. "Never."

"Good." He kissed your forehead and carried you to the sofa where he laid you down and stood up to close the door. "Because I can never let you go."

—

You woke up next to Pete, naked and tired from last night. Sure, he made you feel something, but not the way Patrick did. Pete made you feel happy but Patrick made you feel love, and those two were some things that you could easily distinguish.

You stood up from the bed and took his shirt and boxers before putting it on and walking downstairs, preparing breakfast for the both of you.

You were in the middle of cooking when you noticed that there was no trace of Tiffany since this morning. You stopped the stove and wandered up the stairs to her bedroom, which was inconveniently locked. You knocked on the door, but no energetic five-year-old opened it. You started to panic and grabbed the key on top of her door, inserting the key to its hole and gaped at the sight.

Her closet was open and empty, her toys were scattered and nearly everything she owned was gone. You ripped the blankets off of the bed and saw nothing but pillows and sheets.

Your breathing was heavy. You couldn't believe that your own daughter wasn't there; and the worst part was that there was no trace of her.

From the corner of your eye, a little piece of metal shined and reflected light into your eye, sending you curious enough to look at it. Under the piece of metal was a note.

(Y/N),

You asked for it, you got it. I hope you know what you lost and you forever weep on it.

Tiffany's with me. I asked some people to come inside your house and take her because in the first place, she's mine. Unlike you.

This is better than some sort of case or DNA test which I'm very sure are irrelevant. Good luck.

—P. S.

—

"Ma'am, we cannot asure you that we can arrest him or even file a warrant against him when you have is insufficient. However, we could—"

"Alright! You're just going to call him and sort things out. How do you think that'll help?" you exclaimed. The officer sighed and looked down at his paper as he pushed his glasses up.

"It's the most we can do. Being the man he is, he's probably got security better than the one we have. Also," he took the note and eyed it, "a writing on a piece of paper doesn't mean it really is him. Maybe it's another person plotting against y—"

"CAN'T YOU JUST FIND A BETTER WAY?!" you screamed, running your hand through your hair. This conversation was as irrelevant as Patrick's guessing of the DNA test. "Look, if you lost your child, you'd do what I'm doing too, won't you?"

"Yes ma'am, but—"

"THEN GO FUCKING HELP ME! GET THE WHOLE POLICE TEAM OR WHATEVER! DO ANYTHING JUST TO GET HER BACK!"