Emo Quartet Imagines (FOB, P!ATD, MCR, TØP)ヽ('▽｀)/

Insecurities (Patrick Stump x Reader)

((This is set in 2013))

Unworthy.

Fat.

Attention whore.

Social climber.

You thought that Patrick's fanbase would accept you.

Well, most of 'em.

The morning after you two announced that you were dating, yet you didn't tell them that you were married, your twitter blew up.

Some of it were messages of the shippers because you two knew each other since you guys were in high school.

And most of it were haters.

You scrolled through the new hashtag, #(Y/n)trick.

It was only a few hours after you announced the relationship. It couldn't blow up for that short of a time.

You saw the trends and, oh god, #(Y/N)trick was number three.

Facepalming, you turned to Patrick's side of the bed, who was sleeping peacefully.

You silently groaned, scrolling more and more.

'@pmstumpswife: why would patrick even date a pig like wha???'

Okay. That hurt.

'@peterickislove: so i heard that they got married like,,, one year ago'

Yeah, you two actually were and are married, since last September. Which was last year.

Oh look, they replied.

'@peterickislove: well, @y/t/n youre a fcking pig!'

Another one to the heart.

Patrick was the one who posted the tweet, a picture of you two kissing in Hawaii, which was where you went for your honeymoon, professionally taken.

You smiled slightly before new hate tweets came in.

Unworthy.

Fat.

Attention whore.

Social climber.

You sighed quietly, sitting up slowly. You looked over at Patrick, who turned to the other side, before standing up.

<><><>

Patrick's eyes fluttered open, smiling slightly before he turned to the other side to drape an arm around your waist.

His arm fell onto the white sheets, hearing no giggles and seeing that the woman he loved wasn't there.

He had a look on confusion on his face as he looked around.

There was no sign of you... well, except for the slightly open bathroom door that was normally closed.

He sighed quietly, sitting up and grabbing his phone from the bedside table.

His lock screen came up and Twitter notifications were covering a picture of you laughing, your (H/C) in a messy bun.

His brows furrowed, all of the notifications he got were hate tweets.

He usually wouldn't care, but this is his wife.
The woman who stood by his side through thick and thin.

Another sigh came from him.

He looked up from his phone, locked it, then put it on the bedside table.

Standing up, he stretched slightly, yawning. He approached the bathroom door, hearing sobs and small whimpers.

He instantly frowned. Nobody would make his princess cry.

He opened the bathroom door, seeing you on the toilet, seated on the lid that was closed and bawling your eyes out.

He somehow found it cute that your (H/C) hair was down, yet it described your mood.

He knew why you were crying. And he'll discuss about it later.

He approached you slightly, kneeling in front of you and lifting your chin up.

"Hey, smurfette. You okay?" He asked in a soft whisper, gazing into your (E/C) eyes, which was glossy and puffy from crying.

"Hey, hey, hey... don't cry. Smurfette, don't cry." He scooched towards you as he held you close, your head on his chest as you giggled through tears.

He smiled, happy to make you happy.

You two stayed there for a few minutes, before he scooched away, yet he still kneeled.

He cupped your chin with his index finger and thumb, tilting it up, then kissing your forehead softly.

He pulled away, gripped your shoulders then looked at you, worried.

"What's wrong, Smurfette?" he asked once more in a whisper, looking intently into your (E/C) eyes.

You giggled, again. You're used to be called 'Smurfette' because he told you this.

"Patrick?" You called for him, looking right. He was just sitting there next to you, staring at you when you were gazing at the stars.

"...yeah?" He asked, looking back at you when you were looking at him.

"Why do you call me Smurfette?" You asked quietly, when he giggled.

He draped an arm over your shoulder, letting you lay your head on his.

"Because, babe. Smurfette, in the Smurfs, is the only girl in their village." He began, smiling at you as you gaze at him intently. "...and you're the only girl in my life."

"It's nothing, Patrick." You muttered, averting tour gaze from him to... anywhere.

"I know it's about my tweet." He said, his eyes pleading, "now where's my Smurfette's smile?"

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, crossing you arms and turning away from him.

He smirked, his arms snakimg around your waist.

"Now if you don't smile, Smurfette, I'll do something." He threatened you, brushing his fingers on your sides.

You rolled your eyes and he smirked, brushing your fingers more and more as he tickled you.

You almost screamed from laughter, and your laughter was somewhat contagious because Patrick was laughing with you.

After he stopped, he gripped your shoulders, smiling. "Listen, Smurfette. Don't ever listen to those people. Because they don't deserve your attention, okay."

He smiled at you softly, kissing your forehead once more.

"Now, let's go make some pancakes."

((A/n
My attempt at fluff lol.))