iineed pete wentz beaten n abused or him beating n abusing me. both r hot <3 - 🔮
you don't even need me to tell you that i love this idea because you KNOW i love this idea. hey google. i hate this unc ass bassist. show me fanfic of him punching the shit out of me.
okay hi this is a random blurb that i came up with, this is really messed up so lol, extra tw. also i haven't wrote in like three weeks, this is my writing with no warm ups or editing, please don't crucify me.
"if you loved me, you'd do this for me." pete all but growls the words, holding his phone in almost shattering grip. through the forest of his thick, calloused fingers, you made out the name on the caller ID: bob, petes manager. pete, your boyfriend, is currently in the second week in his seemingly never-ending bender. if its not the coke, its the drinking, and god forbid he starts with the slew of prescriptions.
you see, to get out of working -- or even fucking leaving the house, pete has been explaining to his managers and bandmates that hes deathly ill, and that just as he was getting over the sickness, you had caught it and become bedridden. you'd rather be dealing with a sore throat than this right now, but you're sick of lying and seeing your boyfriend destroy himself, so you refuse.
"no, pete. tell your fucking boss that you're too busy snorting glass to come into work, no one is gonna believe either of us."
your words are sharp, maybe crass, but god does this douche deserve them. you're regretting the sentences before you can even fully form them. original sin, or something like that. anything you were to say would set him off, so why not go out with a bang?
bang is similar to the noise that your head makes as it hits the ground due to a sharp right hook from pete directly to your nose. hes shouting at you from above. hes insulting you. i mean you cant hear the words due to the immense ringing in your ears, but you know the words well enough to hear them through the deafened verbal abuse.
for a moment, pete is something unrecognizable. his eyes are overblown and carrying heavy bags. hes shaking and sweating from both being on fire and stuck in an ice box due to the coke. hes holding your jaw tightly, barring his teeth like hes going to start foaming at the mouth. then the blood flows. the adrenaline wears off and you start sobbing, grabbing at your nose, only to regret the pain that comes after.
"oh, baby.." and with that you're completely back, the sympathy from his strained voice is leaking out of his throat and onto your wounds, emotional and physical, healing them with make believe bandages. the kindness of his tone almost makes you forget that he just decked you in the face. almost.
"i didn't mean to. you know that. id never hurt you baby. you're just too much sometimes, you know that." pete explains, putting his phone down for a moment to rub at your back soothingly, cooing at your sobbing figure on the floor.
the words echo in your mind as you curl into petes lap, still shuddering and leaking crimson from your nostrils. pete welcomes you with open arms and a frighteningly calm smile, you don't have to force yourself to smile as he pets your hair; this is hell, and you've accepted the terms and conditions.
"bob? bob, yeah i know.. look, we had an accident okay? they fell down and hit their nose. yep, im always telling them they're a klutz."
you're still trying to catch your breath as pete finishes his phone call.
"see, just an accident." pete softly speaks as he kisses the top of your aching head, the hazy manipulation feeling like molasses as you slowly nod your head. just an accident.
