What If Patrick... (Patrick Stump Imagines)

Untitled III

The pretty ones gets the most and the best. You don't really consider yourself as anything. As long as you have your face that you got from your mom and dad and other members of your family, you're okay with that. Makeups aren't a thing for you. Vanity isn't either. Not until Patrick Stump stepped in your life.

You got so conscious that you spend hundreds of dollars on chemicals to preserve your youth and on makeups to enhance the beauty that you possess. You do this not because you feel insecure but because you want him to keep loving you. You're afraid he'd find somebody that's prettier and thinking about him being with somebody else kills you.

It's 7 in the morning and you're already preparing yourself for work and for your boyfriend. You're already in your work clothes and currently sitting in a chair by your dresser, dabbing creams in your face which takes a lot of time to dry and seep in your skin so you keep on gently rubbing the chemicals on your face until it sets. You let out a sigh as you dusted yourself with a powder.

You heard the door opened and heard Patrick's silent bare footsteps against the carpeted floor make its way to you.

"Good morning, babe." He gently greeted you as he kissed your cheek. "Wow, that's a lot of thing on your face. I don't think you need that." He said to you, looking at you in the mirror.

You smiled weakly at him. "I need these, Patrick. I have to look pretty all the time."

His brows furrowed. "No, you don't, y/n. You're already beautiful without those expensive chemicals and makeups on your face. I'm not even kidding."

"Patrick, you don't understand."

"That you don't want me to leave you just because your face isn't painted like everyone else?" He fired back, trapping you with his gaze.

You put your lipstick down and picked up the bottle of mascara to coat your lashes.

"Who are you?" He asked rhetorically. "I never loved you just because of your face. I love you for what you really are. I love everything you hate about yourself. You're a work of art, y/n. Please don't let the society ruin you. I want you as you are." He kneeled down at your level and rested his chin on your shoulder. "Babe, you don't need those. I will still love you when you're wrinkly all over. Your physical appearance won't change the way I feel towards you."

You felt a warm tear slide down your cheek. You closed your eyes to think about what you're doing this for. You're scared about him leaving you for aging when you know you're not the only one who will age. Patrick is growing old too. You know all too well that you will still love him when youth fades away from his skin. And you could feel that Patrick loves you so much. What have you done to yourself? He's right. You don't have to try too hard to impress him or anyone because you're with a man who loves you for what you are. And if people aren't really impressed with your physical features then it's their problem not yours.

"Oh my gosh I'm so sorry, babe." You said as you buried your face in your hands. He buried his face in the crook of your neck and pressed a soft warm kiss against the soft, cold skin on your neck which brought crawling shivers down your spine.

"Don't be." He spoke softly in your ear as he took your hands and peeled then off your chemical covered face. "You're beautiful behind all that makeup. You're much beautiful than Zooey Deschannel. You're much beautiful and much better than all the girls in the whole world." He wrapped his arms around you, squeezing you tight. "I love you so much more than words can express." He kissed your cheek which made you smile genuinely. "There's that smile." He remarked.

You chuckled. "I love you too, Patrick." You turned your head to him and settled your eyes on his deep blue ones.

"Promise that we'll age together?" He asked as he interlocked his fingers with yours.

You nodded. "Promise."

"I won't ever leave you, y/n." He said sincerely. "I promise that."

"But I have to go to work." You said and laughed.

"That's a good one." He said as he stood up and carried you bridal style. Both of you laughed as he carries you to the bed and gently drop you in it.

"I can't be late, Patrick."

"You still have like 2 hours. I can drive you there in 30 minutes. I'm superman you know that."

You laughed at his cuteness as he crawled towards you until he hovers over you. You cupped the side of his face and felt him lean against your touch. "Thank you, Patrick. So much."

"You know you don't have to be perfect. Perfect doesn't even exist."

You raised a brow. "But what about you?" You giggled as you pulled his face down to kiss his lips.

"I'm not perfect, y/n. I'm just..." He trailed off. "Really that handsome."

Both of you laughed and he dipped his head down on your neck and start nibbling on the spot he kissed a while ago. You moaned and dug your fingers on his hair, grabbing it slightly. You felt him unzip your pants but then you stopped him before he goes further.

"Not this morning, Patrick." You said teasingly.

He playfully pouted. "But two hours."

You rolled your eyes in surrender. "Fine." You said and giggled as the two of you resumed in doing the dirty bang.

He did not just made you feel beautiful but he also made you believe that you're beautiful and that you're enough. You already have a man who will love you for life, a man who accepts everything that you are — why change yourself to being just like everyone else? You're a unique being. One of a kind as your boyfriend would say. You're weird, you have odd obsessions, you freak out over simple things that no one cares about, you see what is behind all the expressions they put up, you're everything that everyone wants to conceal, but Patrick took you, owned you, and loved you for it.