#bronx wentz

[earlgreytea68]

I don't talk much about their personal lives because I like personally to leave their kids out of it but whenever Pete Wentz posts a photo of Bronx I feel like the love behind it is just palpable and it melts me. When he talks about Bronx, it sounds like he felt that it was just him and Bronx against the world for a little while, and I'm so proud of him, it seems like he did such a great job with the kid.

[maomilaa]

fem peterick with bronx

[release-the-mccracken]

He's such a dad it's insane

[textsfrombandom]

Pete: Using a 12 year old as a wingman. Does that make me a bad person?

[milandsk]

i count your heartbeats before you sleep

Pete Wentz x Reader

angst or fluff, enemies to lovers, reader has a nightmare, hurt/comfort, one bed trope

⭑˚₊ ‧° 𓆩♡𓆪 °‧ ₊˚⭑

Working with Fall Out Boy was supposed to be nothing but easy. Your best friend Patrick knew that that you were, a skilled guitarist so when they needed one - you were the first one to be be called. It you was (supposed) to be great, you knew the guys, you liked them - they liked you. Except for Pete. Pete Wentz. You never liked him but the hatred became a spiral when you had to work together. At first you thought it was jealousy of your skills or your relationship with Patrick, but honestly? With time the reasons were long gone. It was everything.

“You’re rushing.” he muttered loud enough for everyone to hear during one of the practices.

Your fingers stilled at the fretboard. Patrick shot you a warning look but you didn't care.

“I think you're the one who is too slow.” you shot him a tight smile that didn't reach your eyes.

“Oh, really?” Pete narrowed his eyes. “Because from what I remember I'm the one that wrote this song.”

Before he could say more Patrick stepped between you two.

“How about we start from the beginning?” he said more than asked.

You scoffed and Pete rolled his eyes but none of you disagreed.

That was what every practice was like. The only reason you weren't fired was because you were good at playing and Patrick liked you too much. Also Pete was suddenly interested in actually attending rehearsals instead of giving lame excuses. That was supposed to be a good thing if he didn't argue with you all the time instead of playing.

But nothing was as bad as travelling. You weren't spending much time in hotel rooms so you were booked in twos. Thankfully you were always paired with Patrick. But Pete always made it his personal mission to intrude your space.

You were half-laying on a bed, your back against the cushions. Pete was hovering over Patrick who was sitting at the table going over the setlist.

You let out a frustrated sight.

“Can you leave Wentz? I want to take a shower.”

Pete barely turned to look at you.

“And how am I the problem?” he sounded bored. You rolled your eyes finally getting up.

“I don't feel comfortable changing with you in a room.” it was a lie. You just wanted him to leave.

He finally turned around to shoot you a look with raised eyebrows that said “Really?”.

“Not everyone is a whore like you, Wentz.” you went to your suitcase.

Patrick stopped what he was doing and turned around.

“Can you two not?” he asked but Pete just laughed.

“Don’t worry, Trick. I'm taking it as a compliment.” he grinned at you to which you just rolled your eyes.

You took some clothes from your bag before walking past him to the bathroom.

“Aw, without me?” he asked with mock hurt before you slammed the door with too much force.

You heard his muffled laugh from the other room as you undressed and cold water hit your skin. The shower did not relax you completely but it calmed down the thoughts running inside your head. Afterwards you put on your shorts and tight tank top that was way too thin but you didn't care.

You took one last deep breath before opening the door. Patrick just glanced at you before turning back to the papers in front of him.

Pete was staring at you.

Well, not exactly at you but at your tank top. He opened his mouth to say something but he immediately closed it, his mind going blank for a moment. You brushed past him, trying to ignore the heat that suddenly went through your body.

“Fuck.” Patrick said suddenly, earning a questioning glance from you.

“What’s going on?” you asked.

Pete finally stopped eyeing you to also look at him. Patrick just sighed throwing on a jacket.

“I have to pick up something from a studio, I'll be back in an hour.” and with that he was gone before either of you could say more.

“Huh.” Pete said with an amused smirk.

“What ‘huh’?” you asked not hiding annoyance in your voice as you sat on the bed.

He just shrugged, getting closer.

“He should know better than to leave me alone with you.” his voice dropping an octave.

You felt your stomach twist but you tried to keep your voice steady. Instead of answering you asked.

“What's going on with you today?” you tilted your head. “Normally you would argue with me but now you're doing this… whatever it is.”

He stopped only when he was standing in front of the edge of the bed.

“There’’s a lot of ways to piss you off.” he was looking down at you. “And can't a guy have fun?”

“You can't” a grimace went through your face. “and not with me.”

He let out a menacing chuckle before stepping back.

“Oh, don't worry, sweetheart. You couldn't pay me to fuck you.” his back was turned to you as he walked towards the door.

"Thank God." you muttered right before the door closed behind him with a loud thud.

If any of you were ever thankful that you didn't have to share a room - you spoke too soon.

Patrick was tired when he gave you the keys and rubbing his forehead mumbled that if any of you don't like it - they can sleep in the hallway.

So now you were in the room with your bag thrown on the floor, staring at one bed in front of you.

“You sleep on the floor.” you announced grabbing a towel and heading to the bathroom.

“Dream on.” the last thing you saw before closing the door was Pete taking off his shirt and laying on the bed.

The warm water did nothing to melt away your annoyance. When you came out you saw him sprawled on your side. He didn't seem bothered by the fact that he was shirtless. You chose to ignore it against your better judgement.

“You’re seriously sleeping in jeans?” you got closer to the bed, throwing your used towel on the floor.

"No 'hi’, 'how are you?'" he mocked. "You're quick to get in my pants."

You twisted your face in disgust and pushed him with your knee. He let out a scoff but shifted to his side.

“Don't get on my side.” you muttered as you got under the covers.

“Wouldn’t dream about it.”

The silence settled over the room for what felt like an eternity, with only the soft hum of the air conditioning and distant traffic breaking through the heavy stillness. Minutes ticked by slowly, and after shifting around in bed for a long moment you still couldn't find a good position. But the heat of his body was the only thing you could focus on and he wasn't even touching you.

“Stop moving.” he muttered annoyed.

“I can't sleep.”

“Not my problem.” Pete turned his back to you.

You stared at the dark ceiling but eventually closed your eyes, falling into a peaceful dream that didn't last long.

The darkness and shadows seemed too real, too close. When you tried to scream no sound came out. You felt panic rush through you like you were drowning.

“-Wake up.” someone's voice jolted you awake as you practically jumped.

Your eyes flickered over the room. It was still the night. You could see Pete's worried face through the darkness. You barely registered as he helped you sit up. The breaths you tried to take felt shallow like you couldn't get oxygen into your body. You trembled with every breath you tried to take. His warm hand went to steady you on your back.

“It’s okay, it's just a bad dream.” his voice was unexpectedly soft as he rubbed slow circles on your back. You tried to nod when you noticed how damp your cheeks were. You were crying. You were crying in front of Pete Fucking Wentz.

You tried to wipe away your tears. Your unsteady hands painfully rubbed your face with too much force. He quickly grabbed your wrist but his touch was gentle.

“Don’t.” his voice was firm with an underlying softness “You’ll only hurt yourself.”

He tucked away your hair behind your ear to see your face before wiping away your tears with his thumb. His hand lingered around your cheek, gently cupping it. For some reason you melted into his hand like it was the only thing keeping you from falling apart.

“I-” you started but you felt a lump in your throat.

He looked at you patiently encouraging you to finish.

“I’m sorry.”

His face softened, his brown eyes seemed so warm.

“Don’t apologize.”

“No. I mean it. I- I shouldn't wake you up. I don't know why I’m crying. I'm sorry.” you felt yourself turning into blabbering mess.

“Hey- hey, stop. It's okay.” his hand caressed your hair.

You felt tears blur vision in your eyes again. He saw that pulling you into hug. Your face hid in a crook of his neck. His arms wrapped around you. His warmth made your body relax, the tightness in your shoulders disappeared. You practically melted into him.

For a second you wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Here you were, in bed with shirtless Pete Wentz - a guy that made your life hell, crying over a nightmare.

He felt your tears on his neck but he didn't care. He continued to gently comb through your hair as you calmed down.

“You want to lie down, sweetheart?” he asked, the nickname not feeling foreign on his lips.

You nodded not pulling away. His hand slid to your hips as he shifted. Now you were laying against his side, still hidden in his neck. Your hands were on his warm chest.

“It’s okay, I'm here.”

As you calmed down his hands were still wrapped tightly around you. After few minutes you finally pulled back a little to look up at him. He looked calm as his eyes searched your face for an answer.

“Better?” he asked.

You nodded slightly, just now seeing the way his neck was damp because of you. He noticed it smirking slightly.

“At least I'm not wearing a shirt, right?”

“I hate you.” you said but your voice lacked conviction.

“Sure, you do.”

You tried to hide a small smile that lingered on your lips. His smirk turned into something softer.

“You’re kind of cute, you know that?”

“What?” your voice was weirdly quiet as a blush went through your cheeks.

“You’re cute” he repeated “and I don't hate you that much.”

You swallowed. Your arms were still wrapped loosely around his neck. His hand steadied you around your waist while the other was still gently caressing your hair.

“I don't hate you too.” you whispered.

His grip around your waist tightened as he pulled you closer.

“Go to sleep, okay?” his thumb traced circles on your hip. “I’m here and I'm not going anywhere.”

He kissed your forehead as you put back your head in his neck. As you both fallen asleep you knew that the warmth of him would keep you safe from the bad dreams. Your breaths were steady in the same rhythm. You felt safe. You felt safe with Pete Wentz and for the first time in your life the thought of it wasn't ridiculous.

[overbearingstruggles]

I'm not sure how ill feel if Lisa ends up having a baby boy at the end of January...do we assume that was someone she knew coming here to gossip?

I don’t overthink it. If the person is right, it’s either a great guess with zero risk to tout or someone in surprising proximity. However I am dying pressed about Lisa’s indirect.

[po3tictrag3dy]

crazy news guys ernest was NOT killed by pete wentz

[lakemichiganlolita]

pete wentz at the 2009 kids choice awards x

[crimeronan]

once when i was ten, so seventeen years ago, i was on one of the neopets forums that was in 2006 frequented mostly by edgy teenagers with pete wentz urls who wanted to get around the ban on romance and gay talk to discuss mcr members making out. and it was well past midnight and i was secretly on an extremely clunky laptop the size of a modern desktop, sitting on my top bunk in the tiny room i shared with my sister. and i do not remember the forum topic at all but at some point one of the participants politely asked me, "hey, how old are you, anyway? twelve?" and when i honestly replied "ten," he responded:

"WOAH. Kid, you'd better get off the boards. Wandering the Neoboards at 2 AM is like walking nekkid through the Bronx with your wallet dangling from your nipplz."

and this frightened me so much i slammed the computer shut and went to bed immediately. seventeen years later i still remember this message word for word. including the filter-avoidance misspellings. i need everyone to know about this formative childhood memory. bronx wallet nipplz guy if you're out there hmu and tell me what ur deal was

[music-orthemisery]

Pete Wentz tattoo/FOB Fandom Wiki - Lullabye/Bronx Wentz’s birthday/Pete’s Livejournal - 11.15.07/cover of Folie a Deux/Lyrics to “You’re My Best Friend, Honeycomb Head” by Black Cards/Lyrics to “7-9 Legendary” by Fall Out Boy/Annotation on “7-9 Legendary”(and the noted scene)/Post on Fall Out Boy’s Instagram - 1.13.15/Pete’s Tumblr - 4.20.08

And for funsies - peek at this comp by @dykepatrickstump

Presented to you all with love from me & @grandtreeangel ❤️

[cryptophasiac]

she’s so ethel cain coded (family tree (intro) by ethel cain // 2000s teen magazine // Joe Simpson interviewed in the New York Times, 2004 // childhood photo of Jessica Simpson and Ashlee Simpson // ptolemaea by ethel cain // ABC news 2004 // Joe Simpson with grandson Bronx // sun bleached flies by ethel cain // NYT 2004 article // Ashlee and Jessica Simpson, 2004 // ABC news 2004 // strangers by ethel cain // J-14 magazine 2004 // Ashlee’s blog, October 2004 // anti-ashlee myspace icon // gibson girl by ethel cain // Blender Magazine 2006 // NYT 2004 // Ashlee in 2004 // strangers by ethel cain // Ashlee Simpson and Pete Wentz // Ashlee and Pete on New Years 2007 // ptolemaea by ethel cain // they did what on livejournal // Ashlee at the 2008 VMAs // Perez Hilton // american teenager by ethel cain // Ashlee drunk at a basketball game // Perez Hilton on the Ashlee v Michelle Trachtenberg fight // celeb gossip site on Ashlee being drunk at Pete’s birthday)

[raindropgirly]

Aging is weird. Like, logically, I know that I am 28 years old.

But where the logic in my brain stops is that if I am 28:

that means I graduated high school 10 years ago in May. (And graduated college 5 years ago)

that means my best friend and I have been best friends for 16 years. (We met when we were 12. I have known her longer than I haven’t at this point)

my best friend’s baby brother graduates high school next year.

Bronx, Saint and Marvel Wentz are 15 (he’ll be 16 by the end of the month), 10 and 6 respectively.

Declan and Antero Stump are 10 and 7 (8 in December)

Bandit Way is turning 15 in May.

Rowan and Kennedy Way are 6 and 4

Freddie Tomlinson is 8

Bear Payne is 7

Khai Malik is 4

In conclusion: I’m old. Between the above facts and being riddled with chronic illnesses/conditions, I am feeling like a very old 28.

[release-the-mccracken]

There's nothing more important than Pete Wentz with children

[perezhilton]

They grow up so fast!

[frnkieroismydaddy]

Will always love Gray by Pete Wentz for many reasons but also because it's dedicated to his oldest, Bronx, who was 4 at the time of publishing and on page three, the main character is talking about hooking up with a girl who has pierced nipples and a sex worker mother. Like yeah man. Kids love that shit.

[pandoras-bussy]

I had a nightmare that Gabe Saporta died in a tragic pyro accident, but it was actually just Pete Wentz. He rushes to Gabe’s dying body and the last words he says are, “name your son Bronx.” Then he dies and the last frame was just Pete’s emo smirk. I woke up in a cold sweat.