Headfirst Slide Into Your Heart {A Patrick Stump x Reader Fiction}

Chapter 13: A Million Miles Away

here ya go, ignore any mistakes please I did this in class. hypothetically, if i were to release a pretty lengthy ryden fic that took place during cabin album times, would yall be interested?

also excuse my "yalls" im from the south. i realize you all probably think im illiterate now.

The flickers emitting from the small TV screen were the only sources of  light in Patrick's living room. On the screen, the classic story line of Sixteen Candles unfolded. On the couch, you were lazily slumped into Patrick's side.

"How many times are we going to watch this movie together?" you quizzed jokingly. The two of you had watched the flick countless times. It seemed as though every time you stepped foot into Patrick's living room, the screen always held the same faces of Molly Ringwald and John Cusack.

"Until you admit that it's the best movie ever made," he retorted, his tone lined with bewilderment as if he couldn't fathom that you'd questioned the respectability of the film he held so dear to his heart.

"Come on Trick, at least pick a different 80's movie," you chuckled, prodding him in the side.

"Don't start with me woman," he muttered, unseating himself from the couch. He slowly made his was towards the television set, his too-long Batman pajama pants dragging the floor beneath him.

"Alright then, your call. What do we watch?" he asked from the television set.

"Uh, how bout ghostbusters?"

You whipped your head around in surprise, for the voice did not come from you. Instead, a nappy-headed, shirtless Pete Wentz came shuffling into the living room.

"I...I'm not even gonna ask," Patrick mumbled, putting the VHS tape in the TV. Just as Pete had requested, the easily recognizable theme of ghost busters began playing.

Patrick made his way back over to the couch beside you, but was not able to take a seat due to Pete sprawling his legs across the entire piece of furniture.

"Sorry buddy, this seats taken."

"Wentz, move your legs or I swear I will break them."

You were very familiar with this type of situation by now, and the last thing you wanted was to be caught underneath the two when they started playfully, yet violently, attacking each other. Alas, Pete's legs were entrapping you, so when Patrick launched himself at the over grown man child, you were the one who was affected by the fury.

"Hey, get your foot out of my mouth!" you yelled through laughter, not knowing who the foot belonged to. The mass on top of you quickly toppled on to the floor, finally bringing you relief.

Below you the pair wrestled to pin the other down, the occasional "Fucker!" or "I got you now, bitch!" would be screeched.

The yelling and laughing was abruptly interrupted by the ringing of a cell phone.

Pete quickly sat up, Patrick quickly sliding off of his upper half. Frantically, he felt his pocket for the alerting device.

"Hello?"

"Yes, this is he."

"Oh no, Magical Mr. Wentz is just my stage name. Ignore my voicemail."

"Wait, Mr. O'Keefe? Shit, I mean, uh, yeah thanks so much for calling back."

At the mention of the band's manager, Patrick immediately became more alert of the conversation.

"Um, let me discuss with my associates about that."