Pete, The Asshole (Pete Wentz X Reader)

old habits die hard

{{Your Pov}}

last night was okay. sometimes i have to remind myself that i love brendon. its not that i don't love him! i-i do. but pete. its not like i still have feelings for him or anything! i just-i just want to talk to him again.

i didn't have to help pete today. but he helped me. actually, this morning, we met at the studio to help my chem to come up with a new song.

~earlier that morning:

"no no! that sounds all wrong!" frank fussed.

the band was quite frustrated when i showed up. a few cans tossed on the floor, sheets of paper spewed everywhere. a mess. the guys looked exhausted.

"looks like we have some destroyers in here..." i said, shutting the door behind me.

the boys all looked at me.

"destroyers. destroyers. dest-troy-er. des-destroya! DESTROYA!" gerard exclaimed.

mikey grabbed his bass, frank took his guitar, ray took his, and gerard grabbed some drum sticks. he hit them together to come up with a beat. i caught on and clapped my hands.

gerard hummed and passed the sticks to me. he picked up a paper off the floor and started singing.

"don't believe what they say! they're dead flies in the summertime, they leave us all behind, with duct tape scars on mah honey!"

we were all starting to laugh, the guys eased up and the tiredness began to fade.

"they don't like who you are, you won't like where we'll go! brother," he pointed at mikey who rolled his eyes, "protect me now! with blood they wash in the money!"

frank started to really getting into the song. it was like magic when he played.

"you don't believe in god, i don't believe in luck, they don't believe in us, but i believe in the enemy!"

gerard repeated it one more time and the band played a final chord before stopping. everyone looked around at one another before pete came in, clapping.

"i don't know what the fuck that was but i like it!" pete said.
"we couldn't find a word to fit in this song but y/n just walked in here and gave it to us. it worked out perfect."

pete walked over to me, "you're good."
"i wouldn't say good..." i joked.

frank tossed his guitar like a rag doll onto the floor, "i'm hungry and we are almost finished with this album. i say 'celebratory dinner'."
"w-well, if we're done for the day, i think i should get back. i gotta cook dinner," i interrupted.

the guys all looked at me, pleadingly. except pete. he had a smirk on his face. his smirk. the one he used when he really wanted something from me and wasn't going to take no for an answer. old habits die hard, i guess.

"brendon can order a pizza. come on, y/n."

gerard jumped in.

"yeah, come on, y/n! it'll be fun."
"i guess so. let me just call hi -" before i could reach for my phone, gerard grabbed my wrist and pulled me out the door.