Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > HER BETTER HALF (working title)
The Target
4 reviewsDon't let the mushy title fool you, this is far from a romance. Unless: Do you consider being stalked by a crazy female romantic? The feeling of being watched non-stop combined with an abundance ...
3Insightful
A/N: The first chappie's a short one, just to test the waters. ;) Anything that follows will be longer.
Thanks for giving this story a read. Comments & suggestions are always welcome.
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Chapter 1: The Target
"Ha! Yeah, man!" Peter Wentz chuckles into his sidekick as he reaches the porch of his middle-sized home. "There was this chick in the first row last night - SUPER hot.... Sounds like a plan. I gotta go now though... Cheerio."
He unlocks his front door and pushes it open. Immediately he finds himself attacked by his English bulldog.
"Yo, Hemster!"
Bending down he pats the canine's head, who pants in acknowledgement of the affection he receives.
"That's a good boy... even though I think you need a shower," the man sniffs at the dog's ears and wrinkles his nose. "Like SOON!"
He shoves the dog away playfully and gets up from the floor. Then he raises his arms and stretches, his nostrils catch a whiff that leads him to the conclusion, "Dude, I need a shower too!"
Later Peter is clad in fresh jeans and shuffles downstairs towards the kitchen. Drops of water cling to the ends of his hair, his face and torso still damp from the hot shower. As he reaches the ground floor he stops in front of the full-body mirror opposite of the entrance.
As he contemplates his ink-stained reflection he smirks, "Moe's right, I look like a fucking canvas."
He grabs his sidekick off the coffee table, where he placed it upon greeting Hemingway. He grimaces as if in shock. snap After having taken another shot of himself in the looking glass he opens the internet brower on the phone and posts both pictures.
"And another feast for teenage eyes..." he says with amusement in his voice.
He skims through the latest comments:
Last night's show rawked! Lurv - Nell
Why, oh why, are you so good-looking, Pete Wentz? xo, bloodredtruth etc.
He goes back to the most recent of his posts and finds a dozen comments to the mirror shots made within the last minute:
It's hard to believe but you look even better in real life, Pete! :) P.P.
drools wentzmaniac
...
Damn, Pete! What are you wearing those jeans for? TinkaWinka
Smiling he snaps his sidekick shut and pockets it. A quick trip to the mail box. He returns with a pack of envelopes in one hand and a bulgy padded one in the other.
He wonders how this address has leaked to fan circles. There's no point in fretting about a circumstance you can't change. It is just mail - and nothing compared to the amount of letters, parcels and postcards that his parents still receive - no personal visits. Yet, anyway.
Pete slumps down on his white sofa, feet on the table. It's time to relax, the next appearance in public isn't before tomorrow.
He decides to satisfy his curiosity and rips open the soft package. Turning it upside down over the couch, he sees various times tumbling out of the damaged envelope.
A bottle of cologne. Doggie snacks. A black eye liner pen. A letter.
The man picks up the scent bottle and removes the cap. He smells.
"Ugh... that's..." he screws the top back on. "That smells worse than you, Hemy," he glances at his dog lying on the floor a few feet away.
He gets up from the couch and takes the bag of doggie treats with him, "Come on, let's go outside."
The dog follows him to the veranda.
Left behind are the eye liner and the cologne. The letter. Unread. Still folded neatly in half.
Peter,
I hope you like the scent.
It reminded me of you somehow.
I guess I'll never know how it smells on you. :*(
There's also some treats for Hemy.
He's so freakin' cute!
I know you will like the eye liner because it's black.
I don't know if you've gotten my other letters.
I sent them to your parents' place.
This is the first one I am sending to your own home.
It wasn't easy to find out the address, you know. ;)
Much love! Take care!
Phebe
Thanks for giving this story a read. Comments & suggestions are always welcome.
________________________
Chapter 1: The Target
"Ha! Yeah, man!" Peter Wentz chuckles into his sidekick as he reaches the porch of his middle-sized home. "There was this chick in the first row last night - SUPER hot.... Sounds like a plan. I gotta go now though... Cheerio."
He unlocks his front door and pushes it open. Immediately he finds himself attacked by his English bulldog.
"Yo, Hemster!"
Bending down he pats the canine's head, who pants in acknowledgement of the affection he receives.
"That's a good boy... even though I think you need a shower," the man sniffs at the dog's ears and wrinkles his nose. "Like SOON!"
He shoves the dog away playfully and gets up from the floor. Then he raises his arms and stretches, his nostrils catch a whiff that leads him to the conclusion, "Dude, I need a shower too!"
Later Peter is clad in fresh jeans and shuffles downstairs towards the kitchen. Drops of water cling to the ends of his hair, his face and torso still damp from the hot shower. As he reaches the ground floor he stops in front of the full-body mirror opposite of the entrance.
As he contemplates his ink-stained reflection he smirks, "Moe's right, I look like a fucking canvas."
He grabs his sidekick off the coffee table, where he placed it upon greeting Hemingway. He grimaces as if in shock. snap After having taken another shot of himself in the looking glass he opens the internet brower on the phone and posts both pictures.
"And another feast for teenage eyes..." he says with amusement in his voice.
He skims through the latest comments:
Last night's show rawked! Lurv - Nell
Why, oh why, are you so good-looking, Pete Wentz? xo, bloodredtruth etc.
He goes back to the most recent of his posts and finds a dozen comments to the mirror shots made within the last minute:
It's hard to believe but you look even better in real life, Pete! :) P.P.
drools wentzmaniac
...
Damn, Pete! What are you wearing those jeans for? TinkaWinka
Smiling he snaps his sidekick shut and pockets it. A quick trip to the mail box. He returns with a pack of envelopes in one hand and a bulgy padded one in the other.
He wonders how this address has leaked to fan circles. There's no point in fretting about a circumstance you can't change. It is just mail - and nothing compared to the amount of letters, parcels and postcards that his parents still receive - no personal visits. Yet, anyway.
Pete slumps down on his white sofa, feet on the table. It's time to relax, the next appearance in public isn't before tomorrow.
He decides to satisfy his curiosity and rips open the soft package. Turning it upside down over the couch, he sees various times tumbling out of the damaged envelope.
A bottle of cologne. Doggie snacks. A black eye liner pen. A letter.
The man picks up the scent bottle and removes the cap. He smells.
"Ugh... that's..." he screws the top back on. "That smells worse than you, Hemy," he glances at his dog lying on the floor a few feet away.
He gets up from the couch and takes the bag of doggie treats with him, "Come on, let's go outside."
The dog follows him to the veranda.
Left behind are the eye liner and the cologne. The letter. Unread. Still folded neatly in half.
Peter,
I hope you like the scent.
It reminded me of you somehow.
I guess I'll never know how it smells on you. :*(
There's also some treats for Hemy.
He's so freakin' cute!
I know you will like the eye liner because it's black.
I don't know if you've gotten my other letters.
I sent them to your parents' place.
This is the first one I am sending to your own home.
It wasn't easy to find out the address, you know. ;)
Much love! Take care!
Phebe
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