#pete brenner fanfic

[georgiapeach30513]

Down On Your Knees

Summary: Pete Brenner was a man you hated. But he still has this annoying power over you. But you're not powerless...

Pairings: Pete Brenner X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  dark-ish, explicit language, explicit sexual content, boss/employee relationship, cheating, toy play, teasing, edging, degradation, objectification, "cockwaming", fingering, squirting, unprotected sex, PIV sex, creampie, cameras, cheating, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 1.8K

Pete Brenner Masterlist

“You can go now,” Mr. Brenner tells you flatly.  You stand there unblinking.  He promised.  He made so many promises, and now you were standing in his office, quaking.  

He sneers up at you over the file you handed to him, noting the closed door to his office.  Not locked.  It could never never be locked.  That was the rule, and you followed it.  “Mr. Brenner?” 

“That will be all,” he haughtily spits out, as you wiggle around.  “My wife is bringing some lunch by,” he gives you a domineering grin before returning to his paperwork, “You can go now.”

You hated him.  Hated how you could hear a chuckle before that familiar click sounds behind you, and you tremble.  He never made you wait this long.  It was like he was asking his wife to bring him lunch just so he could torture you.  He was the worst part of working here.  And yet the one reason you wouldn’t find somewhere else to go. 

Sitting down at your desk, you wipe the sweat that beads up around your hairline.  Taking a deep breath as you try to center yourself.  It was downright painful what he was doing to you.  You couldn’t think of anything more torturous at this moment.  Hell, you couldn't even think.

Mr. Brenner clears his throat, and you look back at his now opened door.  Lifting up a square rectangle as he clicks it again, and your head crashes to the desk.  “How about you call my wife, and tell her I’ll be ready in half an hour?” You mumble something, still unable to lift your head off the desk, “Excuse me?” 

“Yes, Mr. Brenner.  I’ll call her,” you get Rebecca on the phone, rolling your eyes at how cheerful she sounded.  Telling her that her husband was nearly finished when that stupid clicking rings in your ears, and all you hear is a buzzing sound.  

Squeezing your thighs together the best you knew how, your head crashes back down, “Are…are you okay?” She asks, and you gulp.  Inhale.  Exhale.  Inhale.  Exhale.  You hated him.  You loathed him.

“Y-y-yeah, just…just got hot.  So so hot,” you pant out, when a final click has you turning back to glare at your boss.  He knew how much you despised him.  His mouth turns up in a wicked grin before he winks at you.  

“Okay, tell him that I’ll be there,” rich people are something you didn’t understand.  Too many of the wives were married only for the benefits.  They knew that their husbands were despicable.  But as long as it wasn’t them, they really didn’t care.  They’d turn a blind eye to anything.

“Asshole,” you whisper under your breath, as he clicks that box again.  “I hate you.”

——

“Let’s see here,” Mr. Brenner walks around you.  Looking you up and down like you were his prey, and he was about to devour you.  Leaning in he takes a long sniff up your neck, “Don’t you smell like you had a rough day today.  Let me see,” you shake your head no, getting tired of this demeaning ritual.  Everyday.  You couldn’t leave without it.

“I said, to let me see, or I open this door, and I invite all of them in here to witness this.  Assume the position, and let me fucking see your filthy little cunt,” you gulp as you walk over to his desk, starting to remove your panties before he tsks you, “Let’s see just how wet you got for me today.”

He holds up that rectangle as a warning, as you settle back onto his desk.  Hiking up your pencil skirt before spreading your legs wide.  “Aww, you poor thing.  Your thighs are so sticky and slicked up.  So wet, you’re dripping down.  Been walking around with those soiled panties all day, huh?” 

“You didn’t let me have a lunch break,” he walks closer to you, rubbing over the bulges in your underwear.  He couldn’t know how uncomfortable it was to walk around like this.  Not just wet, but with two toys on you at all times.

Grabbing up a pair of scissors, he cuts off your panties, dropping the soiled silk and lace into his desk.  Sick bastard.  Finally that vibrator drops onto the floor, and you sigh in relief.  He pulls back your lips, giving your swollen clit a roll in between his finger and thumb, and your head tilts back to stare at the ceiling, whimpering.  

“You’re so mean,” you whine.  He doesn’t respond, just pulls out a hot pink dildo.  Sucking your juices off it as he stares at your throbbing pussy.  “I hate you.”

“She doesn’t,” he licks his lips, moaning at your tangy honey.  “You’ve never been stuffed full all day.  Look at her.  She needs to be filled with a real cock.  Needs to actually come.  You filthy slut, your legs are soaked, and that whore hole is spread wide and pulsing, and all for a chance for me to fuck that slutty little hole.  Is that why you flipped me off today?” 

“You wouldn’t let me come,” you start whining as he inserts two fingers.  Humming when squelching sounds become the loudest thing in the office.  He was a mother fucker.  

“But look at how needy you became for me.  You hear that?  It’s the most beautiful sound in the world.  You desperate little slut.  How bad do you want it?” Clenching your eyes closed, you shake your head no.

“You are such a liar.  Tell Mr. Brenner how bad you want me to fuck you.  How bad you want to come over my fat cock.  How bad do you want me to use you?  Tell me how you love being treated like a filthy slut with that door open.  Anyone could walk in, and see you getting that tight little pussy filled with my cock.  Tell me.  Go on, tell me, sweetheart.”

It was demeaning how he never said your name.  It was disgusting how he has you spread out, finger fucking you, and letting your arousal drip down to the floor below, while you tried to deny yourself an orgasm.  It’s what he wanted.  He wanted to break you down.  It’s what you get for moaning on the phone to his boss.  It was his sick twisted game.  

His fingers curl as he drives his hand in you, and you lean back on your elbows.  You wouldn’t say it.  He didn’t let you a lunch break.  Made you walk around soaked, and cockwarming silicone all day.  Little fucker.  He…he…fuuuck.  It is too much.  Your legs were already quivering as he hits your special spot over and over again.  

“Mr. Brenner!” 

“Shh,” he doesn’t slow.  Doesn’t stop.  Not even when your juices squirt all over his shirt.  Soaking him, as he laughs.  Evidence of how good he gave it to you.  Trying to close your legs, but he pushes them further apart.  “Tell me!”  

“I need you to fuck me, Mr. Brenner!” Jerking his hand out of you, he undoes his slacks, and releases his thick member.  He was THROBBING.  Angry with beads of precum dripping down his veiny girth.  He shoves himself into your used pussy, and fucks into you with a fervent need.

Ripping open your blouse, he tugs your breasts out of your bra, just so he can watch the swollen spheres bounce with every hard stab into you.  Menace.  Fucking asshole.  But damn if he didn’t make you feel good.  Giving your nipples a hard tweak, he then slaps your engorged tits.  “My pretty little slut.  I’m going to have you on your knees at the next meeting.  Right under the table with your pretty little mouth keeping my cock warm.  Letting you grind over my shoe, while I talk with the big boys.  Use you like the wet flesh you are.  You are my slut aren’t you?  You like being used?”

“Yes!” 

“Yes, what?”  

“Yes, sir,” you desperately cry as your belly starts to heat up.  You had been denied all day, but you were feeding his ego of making you come fast.  Could already feel him twitching inside of you.  It wasn’t him that made you come so fast.  It was his constant and unrelenting teasing.  All.  Fucking.  Day.  

“Yes, Mr. Brenner!” 

“That’s right!  You are mine to use!  And I will use you however I want!” 

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck,” you grit your teeth.  You hated him.  

“Yeah.  Gonna fill you up.  You think you’re going to be dripping me as you walk out of this office?  They already know,” you open your eyes, pouting up at him, “Yeah.  Say hey to the camera, you fucking slut,” he cackles, and you look behind him to see a camera pointed right at his desk.  Capturing all your salacious sins on film.

“Let them see how pretty you are when you come,” he slaps your clit, making you start to scream out his name.  Coming hard over his cock, and your walls clench down tight around him.  Squeezing every inch of his fat cock, until his warm seeds fills you up.  Your brows furrow, and you can’t help the satisfied smile that covers your face as your cunt milks him dry.

“Even my wife doesn’t get that part of me,” he pulls out of you, just as quickly as he pushed into you.  Never giving you a second glance as he tucks himself back in.  

“You can go home now,” he winks, walking out the office before you.  Fucking.  Asshole.  Dipshit.  

Straightening yourself up the best way you know how, despite missing some buttons on your blouse, you hobble out of his office.  His cream starts to seep out as you walk past his colleagues.  Whispers amongst them.  They’re not stupid.  They could see the evidence drip down your thighs.  Could see the heat in your cheeks, and even your nipples pressing hard against your bra.

“Next time you should have someone to clean you up,” Nick Fowler, another sleazy businessman says as you push the button for the elevator.  

“Shut up.”

“Oh, he doesn’t share?  Your secret is safe with all of us,” he leans over, wiping Pete’s spend off your leg.  Standing up tall, he pushes his finger past your lips.  “How do the two of you taste?  You know there’s only one reason he hired you, right?  You let him fuck you like his sexdoll, and keep your mouth shut.”

“Yeah, and I lie about being on birth control,” you give him a wink, stepping into the elevator.  “She may have the ring.  But I’ll have the kid,” you hold up your middle finger as the doors close.  They were all assholes.  And Pete Brenner was going to give you and your child a beautiful life.  Just to keep quiet.  It would be worth it.  Assholes.  They’ll get what they deserve.

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @missusbarnes-rogers @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @donutloverxo @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @bambamwolf87 @harrysthiccthighss 

[delicatebarness]

caught in the storm | prologue

Summary: As your life faces unexpected changes, you must make difficult decisions for the future of the life inside you. Ultimately, finding yourself torn between love and the need for a better life.

Warning: Substance & Alcohol Abuse. Domestic Violent. Toxic Relationships. Pregnancy. Paranoia. Jealousy. Child Birth.

Word Count: 4757

Spotify Playlist | Support: Ko-FI

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

A/N: This man will not get out of my head, so here you go. Again, this is another part of Prologue season so if you want to know what happens 15 years after this, you gotta let me know :D - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as mine. - B

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick | @sapphirebarnes | @rach2602 | @thetorturedbuckydepartment | @mrsnikstan | @lanabuckybarnes

DAY ONE

The relentless bass thumped through your veins as the music pounded with your racing heart–flashes and flickers of neon lights cast erratic shadows over the crowded room. A red plastic cup was clutched in your hand, weaving through the gathering of people and its contents sloshing close to the rim. Alcohol and cocaine coursed through your system, heightening your senses, everything seeming sharper, louder, and more vibrant. 

A possessive arm was slung over your shoulders. Pete, who at twenty had a reckless confidence that came from his daily mixture of youth and drug abuse. With his wild and unfocused eyes, he leaned in close, muttering something incoherent into your ear, his breath hot against your skin. With a smile plastered across your face, you nodded. 

Stumbling into the kitchen, the countertop was littered with bottles, cans, and an assortment of substances. You heard someone call Pete, offering him a line, and he eagerly leaned over, snorting it up with practiced ease. You watched him, remembering the edge he had been on lately. His temper became more volatile, and his jealousy more intense. Shaking it off, you focused on the moment– his smile, the deeper shade of blue in his eyes. 

As you navigated back through the party, you felt the lingering eyes on you, leading to an instinctive, reassuring squeeze of Pete’s hand. The guys eyed you openly, and Pete noticed every single one. He clenched his jaw tightly, and though you tried to calm him with a hand to his chest, it was too late. He had already begun spiraling. 

“Oh my god, I love this song!” you exclaim, pulling Pete into a dance, trying to distract him. He barely heard you. His gaze darted around the room, and paranoia set in. You could sense it, the storm that brewed beneath the surface. 

“Who the fuck are you looking at?” Pete growled, his voice low and dangerous, directed to a guy nearby. You open your mouth to reassure and answer him, but with an iron grip on your wrist, he begins to pull you away from the crowd.

Before you know it, Pete is shoving you into a bathroom and slamming the door shut behind you. The noise of the party faded into a muffle, leaving the two of you in a tense silence. His eyes were now bloodshot with blown-wide pupils. His expression twisted into a mask of anger and fear. 

“Do you think I’m stupid?” he spat, pacing back and forth in the small bathroom. “Do you think I don’t see the way they look at you? The way you look at them?” 

“Pete, please,” you begin, trying to keep your voice calm and steady in an attempt to diffuse the situation. “No one’s looking at me. It’s just a party, it’s nothing.” 

“Bullshit!” he shouts, his fist coming into contact with the wall, making you flinch. The sharp tang of cleaning chemicals filled the air as it grew thicker with tension. You tried reaching out, tried to touch him, and ground him, but he swatted your hand away. His breathing ragged. 

“I can’t stand it,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “I can’t stand them looking at you, wanting you. You’re mine.” 

“I am,” you insist, tears welling your eyes. “I’m yours, Pete. Only yours… I love you.” 

Stopping, he started at you, and the anger in his eyes flickered. Something raw and desperate, replacing it. He took a step closer, cupping your face in his rough but tender hands.

“Prove it,” he whispered, a slight crack in his voice. “Prove you love me.” 

Nodding, you knew what he needed, what you both needed to keep the fragile peace between you. Lifting on your toes, you pressed your lips to his. The kiss was fierce, a declaration of your devotion. 

He responded hungrily, pulling your face closer. The storm was clearing as the kiss grew more intense. Your bodies pressed against each other in the confined space of the bathroom, the outside party fading further away. It was just the two of you locked in that moment of desperate passion. Pete’s hands moved to roam everywhere, rough and insistent, as if to claim every inch of your skin.

Yanking his shirt over his head, your fingers trembled over his skin. With an almost violent, raw need he teared at your clothes, hurried and uncoordinated. Suddenly, your back hit the cold tiles, making you gasp, but Pete’s lips swallowed your sounds as they met yours again. 

“Mine,” he growled against your lips, his fingers dug into the skin of your hips. “You’re mine.” 

“Yours,” you moan, tugging at his jeans. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he lifted you, pinning your body against the wall. You didn’t care about the pain from the force of his body pressing into you; you needed this. He fumbled with his jeans, pulling them down enough to free himself. 

You guided him inside you, and his moves became instantly frantic, a punishing rhythm. The roughness made you cry out, but a cry of pleasure. His hands tightened their grip on your hips, you knew there would be bruises in the morning. But it didn’t matter. With equal fervor, you met his thrusts, digging your nails into his back. Little red trails left in their wake. 

“Tell me you love me,” he demanded with a harsh whisper against your ear. “Tell me you’re mine.” 

“I love you, Pete Brenner,” you gasp, your voice breaking. “I’m yours.” 

Your words seemed to drive him, his movements became even more intense, jolts of pleasure being sent through you with each thrust. Clinging to him, your bodies moved in a desperate dance for each other. The tension built, coiling tighter until it snapped. 

With a cry, you came apart, your body shuddering against his. A few short moments later, he followed. His nails dug into your soft skin as he let out a low, guttural groan. After a moment, he lowered you to the floor. You both stood panting, trembling. He rested his forehead against yours, desperate eyes searching yours for reassurance. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice broken. “I just can’t stand the thought of losing you.” 

“You won’t,” you promised, tracing patterns along his chest. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” 

Helping each other dress, you stole rough, urgent kisses– almost as if you were trying to reassure each other that you were still there, still together. Stepping out of the bathroom, the noise crashed back around you but Pete held onto you.

For now, you had each other, and that was enough.

~

TWO WEEKS LATER

The harsh fluorescent light made everything feel surreal. Your usual mess cluttered the small space: makeup, hair products, and a full range of skincare items scattered around the sink. But at that moment, it all felt inconsequential compared to the little plastic stick on the floor next to you. 

You hadn’t been feeling well for a few days– nauseous, tired, and unable to focus. Firstly, you chalked it up to being the usual post-party hangover. Yet, when the symptoms didn’t leave, a gnawing worry took root in your mind. You picked up a pregnancy test at the drugstore on a whim, thinking it was only to rule out the possibility. Now, as you sat on the cold floor, waiting for the results, you realized how much hinged on that tiny piece of plastic. 

The second began to feel like an eternity, and your heart pounded in your chest. You noticed your reflection in the full-length mirror, anxiety etched on your face. It was supposed to be just another fun night, another ride with Pete. But, if the test was positive…

The timer on your phone buzzed, jolting you back to reality. Taking a deep breath, you felt a knot of dread tighten in your stomach. Slowly, you picked up the test, your hands trembling. 

Two lines. 

“Oh, fuck,” you whispered. A thousand thoughts raced within your mind, colliding all at once. You’re pregnant. You. Pregnant. The reality hit you like a freight train, you felt breathless and dizzy. 

Standing on shaking legs, your gaze shifted back to the counter, where lines of coke had neatly been arranged. A small reminder of the life you’ve been living for the last year; the parties, the highs, the reckless abandon. Now, everything was different. You were no longer just responsible for yourself. 

You reached out, your hand hovering over the rolled-up dollar bill. The temptation was strong, a familiar need, desperation to escape and numb the overwhelming emotions surging through you. Then, something stopped you. The thoughts of what damage it could do, not just to you, but to the tiny life inside you. 

Tears welled in your eyes as you pulled your hand back. This wasn’t about you anymore. You had to be stronger, better– for the baby. 

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. Thinking of Pete, his wild eyes, his tight grip, his temper. How would he react? What will this mean for both of you? Wiping your tears, you carefully clean away the lines of coke, flushing the remnants down the toilet. A small step, but an important one. 

~

EIGHT WEEKS LATER

In a blur of secrets and growing anxieties, the weeks pass. You had stopped drinking and snorting coke, opting for water at the parties, and trying to stay away from the substance tables. Thankfully, Pete had yet to notice. Too wrapped up in his own constant highs and the cycle of coke and chaos managed to keep him distracted. Under loose clothing, a small curve of a bump was just beginning to show, and it wouldn’t be much longer until it was undeniable. 

That night was no different– another party in full swing, with loud music and dim lights. By now, you had perfected an art of blending in, a red cup filled with water in one hand, and making small talk. All the while you tried to keep a wary eye on Pete, who was already high as a kite as he moved through the crowd. 

You felt his eyes on you, a sense of unease creeping in while you chatted with a friend. Turning slightly to see him watching you, you noted the dangerous glint in his eyes and his jaw clenched. And, before you could react, he was by your side, gripping your arm with a bruising force.

“Come on, Princess,” he growled, pulling you away from the crowd. His grip tightened as you tried to protest, but you knew better than to argue in front of others. Leading you out the back door, the cool night air hit you, and once again the sounds of the party faded. You were left alone with him, under the stars.

With shaky hands, Pete pulled out a cigarette and lit it. Taking a deep drag, his eyes never left yours. “What the fuck is going on with you?” he demanded, his voice low. 

“Nothing, Pete,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, stopping your hand instinctively resting on your stomach. “I’m just trying to enjoy the party.” 

“Fuck you,” he snapped, blowing smoke into the night. “You’ve been acting weird for months. You’ve avoided me, you’re drinking water. What’s going on?” 

You had been dreading this moment, but there was no turning back. Taking a deep breath, you sighed. “I need to tell you something,” you say with a trembling voice. 

He narrowed his eyes, suspicion and anger flickered across his face. “Who is he?” Pete’s accusation hung in the air. His eyes bore into yours, searching for any hint of betrayal. 

“What? No! Pete, it’s not what you think,” you stammered. You could see the storm, beginning to once again brew within him. His fist clenched and unclenched, his body tensing as if ready to lash out. “There’s no one else, Pete. I swear.” 

Taking another drag of his cigarette, the ember glowed ominously in the dark. “What what is it? What the fuck are you hiding from me?” 

You searched for the right words, your heart pounding in your chest. A ticking time bomb and you weren’t sure how much time you had before it exploded. “I-I’m pregnant.” 

The words spilled out, and at that moment, the world seemed to stop. You could almost see the gears turning in Pete’s mind, he stood frozen, his eyes widened: Disbelief, shock, and then anger. 

“What?” his voice was barely above a whisper, but you did not miss the lace of venom. “You’re pregnant?” Another drag. “You’re fucking with me,” he continued, his voice carrying a coldness, now. “This is just another bullshit excuse.” 

“I’m not lying, Pete,” you insisted. “I’m pregnant, and I didn’t know how to tell you.” 

Shaking his head, he threw the cigarette onto the ground, grinding it under his heel. His eyes locked back onto yours as he stepped closer, nicotine, alcohol, and anger mingling in the air between you. “Prove it,” he demanded, anger and desperation rising in his voice. 

Your hands trembled as you reached for the hem of the oversized t-shirt, you took from his wardrobe. The fabric suddenly felt heavy in your grip. And slowly, you began to lift it, revealing the soft curve. The night sky barely illuminated the slight swell, the small sign of the life growing. His gaze flickered down.

Instead of the recognition or understanding that you had hoped for, his expression hardened. “You just look bloated,” he spat, his words sharp, cutting into the fragile moment. 

“Pete, please,” you whispered, tears beginning to well in your eyes as you lowered the shirt. “It’s real. I’m pregnant, I’ve got the tests to prove it.” 

His gaze remained locked on your midsection. “Show me,” again, he demanded, the venom dripped from his lips. 

Once back in your dorm room, you could feel Pete’s eyes burning into your back. The room was small and cluttered, college life evident in the clothes strewn and textbooks piled. Opening your closet, you pulled out a small shoebox hidden under sweaters. 

Turning back, Pete’s expression was a mixture of skepticism and curiosity as you took a seat next to him on the bed. Setting the box on the bed, you opened it and revealed a collection of pregnancy tests. Each one was marked with the unmistakable mixture of two lines, plus signs. 

“I’ve been taking them over the last couple of weeks,” you said, avoiding his gaze. “I needed to be sure. I needed to know it wasn’t a hallucination, not just an effect of the drugs.” 

Pete stared at the tests. Picking one after another up, his face went pale and his hands began to shake. “This is real?” he muttered, questioning himself. “This is happening?” 

“I’m scared, Pete,” you admitted, tears spilling down your cheek. “It’s real, and I’m terrified.” 

Finally looking up at you, you met his gaze, his eyes wide and vulnerable. You had never seen this in him before. “I’ll be better,” he said, his voice breaking. “I’ll stop it all, I promise. I’ll be here.” 

At that moment, you believed him. Clinging to him, the warmth of his broad body was a small comfort against the uncertainty. Yet, there was still a seed of doubt remaining deep down. 

~

FIFTEEN WEEKS LATER

There was a glimmer of hope, you witnessed Pete trying to cut back on the drinking drugs. Yet, as the months went by, his promises faded. The allure of the high was too strong, and his habits quickly resurfaced. He went back to the parties, and in doing so, his fits of jealousy and anger returned. Your heart sank every time you saw him with a bottle or a line. 

You found him one night in the very bathroom where your unborn child was conceived, a line of coke on the counter. His eyes were red and haunted. A knot of dread tightened in your stomach as he met your gaze. “What’s your problem?” he snapped before snorting the line. “Why are you always watching me?” 

“You promised, Pete,” you say, trying to keep your voice calm.

“Yeah, well, it’s not that easy,” he growled, sniffing and wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “You don’t get it.” 

“I do get it,” you say, running a hand through your hair. “You have to think about our baby, Pete.” 

Scoffing, he stepped closer, trapping your body between him and the cold tiled wall. “You and that fucking baby,” he muttered, his body looming over yours. “I can’t deal with this right now.” 

After that night, Pete passed out in a drunken stupor in his apartment. You decided you couldn’t keep doing this. You couldn’t keep holding onto the hope he’d change when it was clear he had no real intentions to. You had to think about your future and the future of your child; with or without him. 

You packed a bag that night, quietly moving while your heart pounded. Afraid of him waking up and stopping you. Writing a note, your hands shook: “I’m sorry, Pete. I love you, but I need to think about our baby. I’ve got to leave and go back to my parents’ house. I hope one day you can find the strength to change. X” 

Slipping out of his apartment, the weight of your decision pressed down on you. The city lights blurred through your tears as you took a cab back to your parents’ house. As you pulled up outside your childhood home, your mom opened the front door, her face etching with concern. 

“Sweetie, what’s wrong?” she asked, wrapping her arms around you, and pulling you into an embrace. 

You broke down, tears flowing freely. “I can’t do it anymore, Mom.” you sobbed. “I-I left Pete, I need help.”

~

NINE WEEKS LATER

Your stomach grew rounder as you settled into a new sense of peace at your parents’ house. And, with it, your determination to provide a better life for your baby. Contact with Pete had been cut completely, you ignored his calls and messages. Only sending him relevant information like when your scans were, in case he wanted to be there. He never came. 

One afternoon, your mom threw you a baby shower brunch. Your friends and family gathered in the backyard, laughter and the smell of fresh flowers filled the air. Surrounded by people who loved and supported you, and their excitement for your baby was contagious. 

Suddenly, there was a knock at the front door. Looking around, the sound immediately sent your heart racing. Something in your gut knew it was him before you even opened the door. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice low but urgent as you stepped out onto the front porch, closing the door behind you. 

There was a mixture of desperation and something else, something almost broken in his wide eyes. His eyes roam from your shoes and up your legs, and then they linger for a moment on your stomach before meeting your eyes. “Can we talk?” his voice hoarse. 

“Pete,” you glanced back through the glass on the door, your heart pounding. “This isn’t a good time.” 

“When is a good time? You haven’t answered my calls in two months,” his voice cracked, and you could see the raw emotions in his eyes, the plea in every fiber of his being. “Please, Princess, just five minutes.” 

You shook your head, the lingering feelings you had for him had you torn between the fierce protectiveness you felt for your unborn child. “I-I can’t, Pete, it’s not a good idea.” 

“What do you want me to do? Get down on my knees? I will, I’ll get down on my knees for you,” he says, his voice trembling with desperation. And, before you could stop him, he’s on his knees. 

Right there, on your parents’ front porch, Pete Brenner had his hands clasped in front of him as if in prayer. “I will change, Princess. I promise, you,” he pleaded. 

Panic rose as you looked around, checking to make sure no one was watching this. The last thing you needed was for your family and friends to see Pete like this– coked up and on his knees. “Please, get up, Pete,” you whispered urgently, glancing back toward where everyone was gathered. “I’ll listen, Pete, please just get up off the floor.” 

He didn’t move, tears brimming in his bloodshot eyes as they locked onto yours. “I’ll change,” he repeated, his voice barely audible. “I need you, I just need you.” 

“Pete, you’re coked up right now,” you said, your heart aching even as your voice hardened. 

Your words caused him to flinch, but he didn’t break eye contact. “I had to see you,” he replied, his voice shaking. “I just needed the courage to get here.” 

“And yet you thought, the best way to do that was to snort that shit and then show you at my fucking baby shower?” your words caught in your throat. 

Pete finally stood, unsteady on his feet as you both stared at each other. The tension between you grew thick, as the air mixed with emotions that neither of you could fully articulate. 

His eyes searched yours desperately. “I just– I just want to talk,” he repeated once again. “To know… I’m still a part of this.” 

“You haven’t been a part of anything, you missed every scan,” you snapped, the hurt and anger you managed to bury for months started to bubble to the surface. “You never showed up. Not once, Pete.” 

“I know, I know,” he quickly said, running a hand through his grown disheveled hair. “I fucked up. But, I’m here now. I want to make this right.” 

The front door swung open before you could respond, and Michelle, your best friend stepped out. Her expression immediately hardened when she saw Pete and his state. 

“Oh great, crackhead is here,” she snaps, crossing her arms, and glaring at him.

“Michelle, as charming as ever,” Pete scoffed, his voice dripped with sarcasm.

“Fuck off, Pete,” Michelle snapped back, stepping closer. She placed herself between the two of you, her body language reflecting her protectiveness. 

“Mich–” you started, trying to diffuse the situation, but she cut you off.

“She doesn’t want you here, dipshit,” Michelle said coldly, her eyes narrowing at Pete.

“She doesn’t, or you don’t?” Pete fired back, his anger rising the longer he remained in her presence. 

“Both, now leave,” her tone left no room for argument, as she stared him down. 

He took a step forward, his jaw set tight, and fists clenched to his side. “Or what? What are you going to do if I don’t?” he challenged, his low voice threatening. 

“Will both of you just stop, please?” you finally shouted, your voice broken through their standoff. You had been trying to keep your emotions in check, yet the stress of the situation all came spilling out. “This isn’t helping anyone, especially not the baby.” 

Turning to you, Michelle’s face softened slightly. “Be honest, do you want him here?” 

Your gaze locked with Pete’s, his eyes filled with desperate hope. “Princess…” 

The truth was, a part of you did want him there. This moment was one you had imagined countless times– Pete by your side, the two of you figuring parenthood out together. But another part of you, the part that endured the pain and disappointment, knew that this wasn’t the time for children’s fairy tales. 

“Please, Pete, just go,” you sighed, a slight tremble in your voice. “I promise, I’ll call you later. Just… please let me have this one day.” 

Pete’s shoulders slumped in defeat, and he took a step back, his eyes never leaving yours. “Boy or girl?” he softly asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“What?” you asked, thrown by the sudden question. 

“What is my baby’s gender?” he repeats, sorrow filling in his eyes, cutting right through you. 

Swallowing hard, the lump in your throat made it difficult to speak. “I-I don’t know, I didn’t find out. It didn’t feel right to find out without… you.” 

For a silent moment, his gaze lingered on your stomach. His eyes flickered with sorrow and hope as they glanced back toward yours. “Promise me, you’ll call me?” 

“Pete,” you began, your tone softer as you tried to balance the tenderness you felt and the boundaries you had to maintain. “I promise you, once this is over and everyone leaves, I’ll call you.” 

“Tonight?” His voice cracked, desperation still clinging to his words.

“Yes, tonight,” you assured him, your voice firm even though your heart raced. 

Seemingly to accept your promise, he nodded slowly, yet you could see the struggle in his eyes. He turned and began walking down the driveway, each step heavy with the reality of his situation. Upon reaching the gate, his hand rested on it for a moment, as though he was gathering the strength to leave. 

Before he stepped through, he turned back toward you, his voice remained low. “I love you,” he spoke, the words hung in the air, raw and real. 

“Pete…” you started, but the words caught in your throat. You couldn’t find the courage to say it back– not now, not like this. Instead, your eyes bore into his, neither of you moving. 

~

SIX WEEKS LATER

In the throes of labor, the room was bright and sterile. There was a beeping from a machine, constantly reminding you of the life about to enter the world. Your mom was by your side, holding your hand as she whispered encouraging words. Waves of contractions made you grit your teeth, but yet even through the intense pain, your thoughts kept drifting back to Pete.

“Has anyone got a hold of Pete?” you asked between breaths, worry filled your eyes as you looked up at your mom. 

Squeezing your hand, her face was a mask of calm. “I don’t know, Sweetie. I told your father to contact him, but I can’t be sure.” 

Nodding, you tried to focus. You believed Pete had a right to be there, but the uncertainty around if he would show gnawed at you. Minutes turned into hours, and your labor dragged on, exhaustion settling in. With every passing moment, your hope diminished. 

“What if he’s not coming?” you whispered, as tears mingled with your sweat. 

“You’re doing amazing, Sweetie,” your mom said gently, brushing your hair back. “Keep focus on the baby.” 

Just as you were about to give up hope, the door to the delivery room burst open. Disheveled and out of breath, Pete rushed in, his eyes wide with fear and determination. “I’m here!” he exclaimed, looking around frantically until his eyes landed on you. 

“Pete?” you gasped, relief and surprise flooded through you. 

Rushing to your side, he took your other hand in his. “I’m so, so sorry I’m late, Princess,” he said, his voice catching as he tried to catch his breath. “I came as fast as I could.” 

In that instant, the tension between you melted away, and the only thing that mattered to you was that he was there. Leaning in closer, he rested his forehead against yours as he whispered, “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” 

As another contraction hit, you squeezed his hand hard, a cry forcing its way out of your throat. Pete didn’t flinch; he stayed holding onto you, grounding you in ways you hadn’t expected. 

Finally, the moment came. One last agonizing push and the room was filled with the sharp, piercing cry of your baby. Relief, joy, and exhaustion hit you all at once. You collapsed back against the bed, tears and sweat continuing down your face, 

“It’s a boy,” the doctor announced, holding up the tiny, squirming bundle. 

As you looked at your son for the first time, your breath hitched. Pete’s grip tightened as he stared at him with wide eyes, awe, and disbelief mixed in his expression.

“You did it, Princess,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as the nurse brought your son over, placing him gently on your chest. The warmth of his body against yours, you could feel his tiny heartbeat, and the reality of what you had gone through started to sink in. 

Pete leaned in, and his other hand reached toward your baby’s tiny fingers. “Welcome to the world, little guy,” he said, his voice full of wonder.

And in that moment, everything was perfect.

---

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

[witchywithwhiskey]

slasher summer masterlist

summerween is over, and so is my slasher summer writing challenge. as promised, here's the masterlist of all entries in the challenge (if yours is missing, please DM me!)

thank you to everyone who participated, as well as all readers who liked, reblogged and commented on the fics!! i loved getting to read everyone's stories and see what y'all did with the prompts. you're all so creative and lovely—thank you again!!!

for readers, please heed the warnings on each individual post below, your media consumption is your responsibility. and please make sure to show your support of the writers by reblogging their work!!!

When He First Got Me by @buckets-and-trees

pairing: soft!dark and rough Nomad!Steve Rogers x Female!Reader summary: Prequel in the Exiled Nomad Series. July 3, 2017. Steve sees you at a city festival for the Fourth of July, but he's not content with only seeing…

Dirty Little Secret by @buckys-wintersoldier

pairing: Professor!Ari Levinson x Student!Female!Reader summary: You share a dirty little secret with your professor.

In the Woods by @thezombieprostitute

pairing: James Mace x Female!Reader x Chris Beck summary: Using the prompts: Summer Camp; Sex in the Woods; You know how girls love to scream

Not A Common Storm by @nekoannie-chan

pairing: Steve Rogers x Agent of HYDRA!Reader summary: You and Steve are trapped in a storm, what would happen?

Once Upon A Friendship by @steviebbboi

pairing: Childhood Bestie!Steve Rogers x Female!Reader summary: Growing up together, you and Steve were inseparable. Where did it all go wrong?

Rosa by @perdidosbucky-yyo

pairing: Best Friend!Steve Rogers x Plus Size! Female!Reader summary: Trapped in a prison of your husband and your mother’s expectations, your only comfort is the ghost in your garden, haunted by the memory of your best friend. You thought you would never see him again but when he unexpectedly returns home from the war after 12 years, you’re not prepared for what’s to come.

A Night of Frights & Delights by @elixirfromthestars

pairing: Athlete!Bucky Barnes x Artist!Reader summary: It’s Friday the 13th and the college kids in town decided to host a weekend camping trip on the outskirts of town. Your best friend convinced you to go much to your reluctance. What could go wrong when the one guy you can’t stand is also there?

Sweet and Slashy Summer Saturdays by @buckets-and-trees

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Curvy!Female Reader summary: A first date with your neighbor Bucky Barnes.

Fool Me Once… by @dc418writes

pairing: Ari Levinson x BlackReader, Pete Brenner x BlackReader summary: Who knew grudges could be so deadly?

Slasher by @witchywithwhiskey

pairing: DARK Horror Movie Villain!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader summary: Somehow, you end up in your favorite old horror movie, and you decide to take the opportunity to fulfill one of your fantasies—you're gonna fuck the villain, Bucky Barnes.

[dbnightingale24]

You Didn't Have To Say Yes...

A Pete Brenner Love Story

~~

My first Patreon story!! I decided that Pete needs a love story, cause I feel like he gets shit on a lot. He's not a bad guy, he just has some...bad habits.

Thank you to everyone for your patience (once again), and I hope you all enjoy! As always, thank you to @fuckingbye for my amazing moldboard! I love it and I love you! I wrote this in a week (I don't know what's going on with my brain as of late), and I'm really excited for it!

Word Count: 49,380

Warnings: Pete Brenner, Smut, MINORS DNI 18+, Swearing, Daddy Kink, Drinking, Smoking, Drug Use, Angst, Self Hate, Semi-Public Sex (fingering), Open Marriage (Toxic Relationship), Abuse, Fluff, Family Drama, Anxiety, Panic Attacks, Abortion ...I think that's it? I'm pretty sure I covered all the bases...yeah

Songs That Inspired This Chapter: If You're Feeling Down, I Just Wanna Make You Happier Baby

Summary: Pete Brenner is perfectly fine with everyone continuing he's a selfish piece of shit. That is, until you walked into his life, and turned everything upside down.

~~

I do not give consent/permission for my stories/works to be posted elsewhere. I do not condone this type of behavior, this is for entertainment purposes only.

~~

~~

“C’mon, give me a smile,” Pete beams, his words tailing a slight slur as you make someone else’s Manhattan.

“I think it’s time for you to go, Mr. Brenner,” you giggle dismissively, flipping your hair and shaking up the cocktail mixer.

“I wonder how much sweeter my name would sound if you were underneath me,” he grins and lifts his eyes at you. You ignore the heat in the pit of your stomach, not wanting to surrender to his smarmy charm.

Pete Brenner doesn’t give up easily, you’ll give him that. 

“I’m sure your wife is happy that you’re always here, trying to bring me home instead of spending time with her,” you nod with a glance towards his left hand. A waitress comes over, picking up the next round of drinks.

“I’ve told ya, she has her fun and I have mine.”

“Cause that’s what every woman loves to hear. Woo me even more, Brenner,” you laugh, turning around and getting started on the next drink.

“Your ass looks amazing in those shorts.”

You laugh as you call over your shoulder, “I’m ordering you a cab.”

“I can take myself,” he mutters with an exasperated sigh. You know he’s pulling out his wallet, frustrated that you’re not leaving with him again.

“We go through the same motions every time, Pete. I don’t want you driving home drunk.”

“You refuse to sleep with me, but you care about my well being? I think you’re finally startin’ to warm up to me.”

“I don’t sleep with married men, Pete. Find a new dream to chase. You know the drill, the cab will be here in ten.”

Pete Brenner came stumbling into your life about a year and a half ago, and he’s been a character since day one. He was down on his luck, drinking until he could barely stand, refusing help from anyone, always ending with the same mantra every night:

“I’ve made this fucking far on my own, I can make it to my own fucking house!”

No matter how much you pushed, he wouldn’t accept help from you. He always refused service from everyone except you. At first he didn’t say anything, he just watched you and let his eyes roam over your body. He never said out loud that he wanted you, but he didn’t exactly go out of his way to hide it either. He was so obvious he never needed to say it explicitly. The glint of his gold wedding band always caught your attention under the sparkling lights of the nightclub, but seeing as he spent every night there until closing, you didn’t think it made much of a difference.

Until one night, eight months ago.

“There she is! My favorite girl!” he beamed, a cocky smile cemented on his lips.

The woman sauntering next to him didn’t seem to think too highly of the nickname he called you. 

“I’ll take a bourbon, and this sweet little thing next to me will have a Strawberry Daiquiri,” he told you, though his eyes never left your chest.

“Oh? Wedding anniversary?” you half smiled as you tried to put on your workplace happy face even though you mentally thought to yourself ‘he can’t be that sleazy to bring her to this dump on their wedding anniversary.’

“Got a new job, sweetheart,” he smirked. You didn’t miss the mischievous shine in his eyes in the club’s half light.

He was a bold mother fucker to bring his wife along just to flirt with you in plain view of her. Not many men had that much audacity when it came to you. 

“I’m Y/N,” you offered with a smile.

You genuinely pitied the woman.

“Tina,” she responded with a plastic smile.

Big boobs, micro-waist, big fake blonde hair, and Pete had ordered her a strawberry daiquiri. She fit the description of most “Tina’s” that came into the club. However, the large rock on her ring finger was nothing to scoff at.

“Oh, don’t pout, honey,” Pete taunted her. “This is what you wanted, right? Me to get a brand new important job and show you off? That’s what you’ve been bitchin about for months, isn’t it? So smile, would ya? You got ya wish.”

Someone was feeling prickly that night.

“First round of drinks are on the house. Congrats, Pete,” you smiled as you set both drinks down.

“Keep ‘em comin’, sweetheart,” he winked at you, handing you a hundred.

While it may have not been anything new to you (Pete always tipped generously), Tina’s eyes went wide and you didn’t miss the way her cheeks burned and blushed with anger.

You wanted to stay as far away from them as the night allowed.

You happily took shots with some of your regulars as the night went on and evened out. Your friends started showing up for their shifts, which helped your sour mood from earlier in the day (even though your ex-fiancee showed up outside of your apartment to harass you yet again). The more you drank, the more you started to dance along with the music; which meant Pete couldn’t keep his gaze off you.

“Why are you single?” Pete asked once his wife got up to go to the bathroom.

“You don’t strike me as the cruel type, Mr. Brenner,” you grinned as you made him another drink.

“Curiosity doesn’t equate to cruelty.”“You’re still here with your wife.”

“She’s in the bathroom.”

“Why’d you bring her tonight?”

“You heard me, this is what she wanted,” he cynically scoffed.

“They’re a lot nicer clubs than this one.”

“Can’t all be that nice if you don’t work there, sweetie.”

You both looked at each other for a moment before you heard, “Darlin’!” coming from the other end of the bar.

“Comin’ Charlie,” you laughed, breaking the stare with him, and shook your head. You used the bar to push yourself off away, down to it’s other end while Pete sipped the last of his remaining drink.

You didn’t need glasses to see that Pete Brenner was an attractive man, and he was important...well, he did his best to imply his importance (as if it would get him far with you). You’d be a liar if you said you hadn’t thought about going a few rounds with him in the bedroom, but you didn’t sleep with married men. 

No matter how hard they tried, you had a set of both personal and professional rules that you abided by.

For the rest of the night, you stayed away from Pete and his wife unless they needed a refill. It was almost as if Tina was trying to make him regret his choice of celebration because she was throwing back her drinks like they were water. The night went smoothly enough, nevertheless, until you went outside for a smoke break.

“You should really quit those things,” came the voice of the last man you wanted to see or hear from.

“What do you want, Mark?”

“I come in peace, Sweet Thing,” he laughed, putting his hands up.

You’d always hated the nickname.

“Didn’t get enough arguing this morning? What else could you possibly have to say?” you questioned while you exhaled your frustration.

“You know you miss me, baby.”

“I miss the peace I had in my life before I met you.”

“You’re still working at this dump?”

“I have bills to pay.”

“You know I’d be more than happy to take care of you.”“Don’t want it. Nor do I want anything from you,” you snapped with a growl.

“Yet you drove yourself here in the car I bought for you,” he sneered, nodding in the direction of where the car was parked.

“Take the fucking car back then, Mark. If it means you’ll leave me the fuck alone, take back every single thing you ever gave me.”

Snickering, he made his way to you and grabbed your arm saying,“don’t be bitter when I know just how sweet you’re capable of being.”

With a scoff, you threw down your cigarette and bludgeoned it, “fuck this.”

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going? Enough with the goddamn attitude, Sweet Thing-”

“Let me go!”

“You’re coming with me-”

“Let her go!” you heard Pete yell as he quickly made his way over to you, leaving his wife to stumble to their car all alone.

She looked slack jawed from Pete to you, before her stare turned venomous and settled on you. It’s just what you needed on top of everything else; his prized Barbie play-toy thinking you were fucking her husband. 

Great.

~~

Read the rest of the story here

[slut-for-evans-stan]

Just finished watching Pain Hustlers and I've a very urgent request to anyone who writes, and has watched the movie.. pleaseeee write smut one-shots on Pete Brenner cuz GODDAMNN-

And please tag me if you do :')

[kdeviations]

I'm obsessed with this series!!

Unmanageable 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Pete Brenner

Summary: your manager sets his eye on your (plus!reader)

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

A thump jolts you from your work. You glance over lazily, chin cupped in your hand, as the murmur of voices follow. You cluck and reach for your earbuds, popping them in your ears before you can hear the subsequent disturbance.

Your job isn't glorious. Nothing really is in Hammer Ford. You're the line IT tech at the local bank working on ancient PCs which can't handle the national system's updates. Most of your time is spent trying to make a simple process work.

Work is work. You could do much worse than sitting forgotten behind a desk as the bank manager gets his jollies off with the clerk. This decrepit town can't offer much better, in terms of both male counterparts and career prospects.

The wired buds don't really block out the ruckus. You lean on an elbow and clack away at your keyboard. It never lasts very long.

You pluck away as the clock above your door ticks on. You yawn with your eyes open, dropping lower and lower as your eyes glaze over. A knock has your spine straight.

You clear your throat and call out, "yes?"

The door opens. Pete, the manager, fixes his tie as he enters, one tail of his shirt untucked, "hey, uh, I was having some issues with my laptop. I know it's not a work device but... I don't wanna drive all the way to the city."

"Hmm, I can have a look after work," you shrug. It's usually nothing. You typically have people calling on you for support outside your office walls.

"After work..." he repeats, "the wife kinda is expecting me to take her out for dinner, so..."

You repress a sigh. He is the manager. If you fall behind, it will only be his own fault.

"Sure, you need me right now?"

His eye brow tweaks and he drags his fingers around his half-grown goatee, "need you... oh, yeah, should I bring it to you or..."

"What's easier for you, sir?"

He chuckles, "you know, you're the only person who calls me that."

You just stare at him. He's your boss and you'd like to keep it that way. You get up, "here, I'll just come look."

"Thanks, sweetie," he grins as you cross the office, "life saver."

"Mhm," you hum as you near him.

He doesn't move. He just stands, his arm across the doorway and watches you. You look past him and clear your throat.

"Right, right," he steps back and swings his arms down, "the computer."

He retreats and turns away. As he does, you see Marska giving him a flustered look. Gross.

You follow him into his office and waits by the door as you pass. You try not to think of what just happened in there. Thankfully, you're not his type.

You wince as the door clicks shut.

"Oh, you don't have to--"

"Right," he overrides your protest, "I'll just get my laptop."

He goes around his desk and pulls out a sleek macbook. You don't see many of those. He puts it facing you and opens the lid.

"I'll let you poke around," he says as he presses his fingertip to the censor to unlock it, "it's just the damn mousepad."

"Right," you step up and squint at the screen. You lean in touch the pad. It's definitely lagging.

He strides away, pacing on the other side of the desk, hands in his pockets.

"Thing's too fancy for me," he scoffs, "but I like the look of it."

"It's a good machine," you confirm as you go into his drivers, searching for updates.

You feel him watching you but shrug it off. Everyone's a little touchy when you're on their personal device. He stops and bounces on his feet.

The cursor continues to jump around as you scroll and suddenly a window pops open. Safari resumes it's last tab and you quickly hit command W as you see a pending wheel atop a very explicit video. Yikes.

You try to not show the slip up as you go back to searching the drivers, "you got antivirus?"

"Uhhh, I think," he answers as if it isn't essential.

"Hm, doesn't look like it," you mutter, "I'm updating the mouse driver but you need security software."

"Right," he comes around as you click through the system window to update. He stands behind you and watches over your shoulder, "got any recs? I'll get it set up right away."

"Bitdefender's good," you suggest.

"Mm," he leans down, against you, putting his hands on the desk on either side of the laptop, "think you could show me where to find that."

"I can send you a link," you grit out, prickling at his proximity.

"Well," you move your arm back, prodding him with your elbow, soft enough for it to seem accidental, "that should be fine once it updates."

He huffs but backs away. Your neck is stiff with tension. You face him and check your watch.

"I'll get back to it," you say.

"Yeah, thanks, sweetie," he chimes, "sure you don't want a coffee? Take a load off."

"I'm good," you insist, "got a lot to do."

You open the door before he can catch up to you. As you leave, Marska watches over her shoulder from the front desk. You ignore her and quickly hide in your office. Knowing Pete isn't too aware of security procedures, you should do a review of the serves to make sure everything's safe.

[sparkledfirecracker]

WIP Game

Thank you @ghotifishreads for the tag. You can find the post here.

I’ve added a few more WIPs since the last time I played this. I think at this point there’s well over 100 WIPs in my docs. So I did make a selection, I left all my original works one out and kept it strictly fanfic based. It was fun to see some sitting in my docs since 2020/2021 untouched(no pun intended), but no desire or idea to finish them.

The rules given were as followed: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! Then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

I will change them a little, if you are curious to find out more about a title, ask me about it and I’ll share a little snippet or tell you about it if there’s literally only 1 line in it 🤣.

WIP LIST (under the cut, it’s a long one)

Daddy Academy - Ari - Our Little Secret incl 4 & 5

1 Daddy Academy - humping

2 Daddy Academy - wand voyeur

3 Daddy Academy - missionary

6 Daddy Academy- anal both ways

7 Daddy Academy - Somnophilia

M&H spin off Lloyd Hansen vs assassin- Becoming Mrs. Hansen

FA Freezy spin off M&H Good for You

FA M&H Nick spin off - New Beginnings

FA - Nick vs turtle - Love is a Verb

FA Nick & Turtle - The Night We Met

FA Andy - spin off M&H Waves

FA Andy - part 3

FA Pebbles backstory

MH spin-off Pete Brenner

FA Steve - spin off biker au M&H

FA Curtis part 2 - M&H spin off

FA Ari spin off M&H Wildest Dreams - Returning Home

FA Ari - spin-off part 2

FA Hayden - When the Phoenix Rises

FA Frank - spin-off M&H

FA Jake Jensen vs notes

FA Ari - prequel his POV

FA Mace & Needle - spin-off M&H

FA Johnny biker spin off

FA Colin spin-off M&H

FA Nick G vs babysitter

Gym Rats Olympic Winner Steve

Wellness resort CEO Andy Barber

Wellness Resort - Ransom

Golfer Ransom Finale

Spicy Neighbours Steve & Bucky

Sinful Guilt - Andy and Steve

Sorority Story

Unruly / Roaring Nightskies

Cuckolding - Ari / Andy

Corrupt stepdad Andy

Promiscuous invitation

Valentines stepdad

Champagne New Years - Ransom

Ice Hockey Jake

Pornstar Galore

Spinning Wheel of Death

Coffee & Shakes

Halloween - Ransom Sugar daddy

Santa’s sack

Cam girl - dildo review

12 days of Christmas

Endearing Sins spin off - Ransom & Lee

DPP story ransom and Ari

Pegging skinny Steve

Brazen and Buff

Blasphemy- Lloyd

Mechanic Frank

Request Andy - The One That Got Away

Loyalty of Life - Cult leader Andy

Ari vacation

Viking Freezy part 2

The hook-up

Dangerous Thirst

Escort Ari

Test of Faith - Endearing Sins spin-off / finished not posted

Ari - turned down date

Mister silver Fox

Skating rink

Viking Freezy part 3

Gardner game - Curtis

Dark Prince Ari

Magician Jake

Rafe/Ransom Dare Night

0900-TeleRidge

Panty sniffing Devin

Masquerade club

Favorite convict

Chateau inheritance

Blowing the dice

Barbarians

Travel diaries

Worked up - Andy

Skating rink - Jake

Tree chopping

Welder Steve

[witchywithwhiskey]

oooooo this was delightfully dark and twisted!!! i do so love when the reader gets to be dark and/or a little unhinged, it just makes a fic so much fun to read—and this was very fun to read!!

i also really loved the twist halfway through 👀 i think you pulled if off well, setting it up very subtly but not making it obvious. i was surprised and ecstatic, because everything just goes into overdrive from there!! (spoilers under the cut)

i can't get over the fact that Ari is scary hot in the whole fic, but this line—this line was just so good:

Those same hands that just killed and disposed of a dead body now so gently washing you with the shower gel he loved to smell on you.

it's sweet and it's dark at the same time, and it perfectly encapsulates the dichotomy of this Ari. he obviously cares for reader, but he also can't stand to let Pete live after everything his former best friend has put him and his family through—and after what Pete did to reader!!! oof, i don't always love scary hot male characters, but Ari was the right amount of sweet to balance out the scary part. i looooved him and the whole fic!!

thank you so so much for joining my challenge!! ♡♡♡♡

Fool Me Once…

✨Pairing✨: Ari Levinsonxblackreader, Pete Brennerxblackreader

Summary🪄: who knew grudges could be so deadly?

🚨: 18+ NO MINORS!!, kidnapping/abduction, very slight torture, choking, brief violence (man-woman, man-man), gunshot wounds (slightly descriptive), mention of blood, language, death, implied nudity, mention of bullying

A/N🎤: hello🌸! This is my submission to @witchywithwhiskey ‘s Slasher Summer Writing Challenge! I hope yall like what I came up with, and that you please check out the other works submitted for this challenge as well☺️💕!

*DISCLAIMER!: I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP of pictures used as they were found via Pinterest*

Location: Lake House

Trope: Kidnapping

Quote: “I know how much you guys like games”

“You’re only gonna make things worse.”

If Ari had to guess, five minutes had passed of Pete yanking and toying with the shackle attaching his ankle to the brick wall. He swore if he could hit that small opening on the link just right, he’d be free.

“At least I’m tryin to do something rather than sit there with my thumb up my ass,” Pete retorts still yanking and jingling. “Don’t see you with any ideas.”

It was going on nearly a whole day of them being chained in the unknown basement. A cell-like barred gate keeping them enclosed from the other half of the space like animals at the zoo. The single light overhead dim, adding to the creepy appeal of the room.

“Because I’m still thinking of how to get out and not tip her off in the process,” Ari angrily responds.

Both men pause turning towards the basement door when the “her” in question begins to turn the knob. Two plates of food perfectly balanced on the tray in your hands as you descend the creaky steps smiling as bright as the sun both men wished so desperately to see again.

“Hi boys!” Pete already thought you were crazy, but from your bubbly mood acting as if this is just a get together among friends, he’d deem you certifiably insane. “I figured you were hungry so I brought sandwiches. Ham and cheese for you Pete and PB&J for Ari. I remembered you don’t eat pork.”

Sliding the tray through the small opening under the gate, both men suspiciously eye their plates - prettily set with sandwiches cut diagonally along with carrot and celery sticks - before Ari dares to bend down for his.

“Are you crazy?!,” Pete whispers. It’s no use though with you only a few feet away sitting crisscross on a wooden chair and able to hear everything being said.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t do anything to it. Can’t get rid of you before the fun silly!”

“And what would that be exactly?,” Ari asks sounding as serious as a judge.

“I know how much you like games, so I was thinking Never Have I Ever. Simple, but fun right?! ”

“As fun as a root canal with no meds,” Pete mutters under his breath. You ignore his words eagerly holding up your hand while you try to think of a good one. Your eyes tightly closed in deep concentration. He’s surprised to see Ari slowly hold up his free hand immediately quirking his brow to which Ari just shrugs.

“Just play along,” he simply mouths.

“Oh! Never have I ever been stuck in an elevator.”

Rolling his eyes, Pete begrudgingly raises his hand to bend his thumb down leaving him with four fingers left. “Your turn Pete!”

He sighs, “Never have I ever abducted innocent people. Huh looks like that’s two for you sweetheart.”

For the first time since either man met you, - two separate occasions of chance meetings and a simple drink - a flash of..something darkens your brown eyes. “Alright then,” you begin, slowly bending your pinky and ring finger, “Never have I ever hurt someone.”

“This isn’t hurting someone?!,” Pete retorts motioning to the shackle he jingles around his ankle.

“More specifically, never have I played a cruel prank on someone and embarrassed them in front of the whole freshman class!” Pete might be confused at your outburst, but Ari remembers that day vividly. The shy hope that soon turned to sorrow realizing the love letter was fake. How foolish you felt. He admits he should’ve done more in those days after when classmates would tease you about it, but like any high school boy his concern was himself and his budding popularity.

Leave it to Pete to keep getting him into trouble all these years later.

“…Wha- What are you-?”

“You really still don’t remember..” your laugh isn’t a humorous one as you stand with arms crossed over your chest beginning to slowly pace back and forth. “I shouldn’t be surprised seeing as though you only cared about yourself then and clearly still do now.”

“Or maybe I have more important things to do than sit around harboring some dumb, juvenile grudge from high school. Actually have a successful job like a grown adult.”

“You made high school hell for me! If it wasn’t your snide comments anytime I’d answer a question in algebra, you were messing with me in the hall for no reason!” A lone tear falls down your heated cheek that you quickly wipe away. “Then you just had to make things worse with that letter pretending to be Ari. Claiming how he liked me and wanted to meet in the alcove after-,”

“Wait..” Leaning against the gate, his cerulean eyes partially squint as if he was finally seeing who you were. Maybe even realizing the error of his ways for once. “The alcove where-,”

“You sent both me and Ari under different guises. When I told him about the letter, he had no idea what I talking about and then enter you with half the freshman class.”

“Aww looks like someone was rejected by her crush,” young Pete laughed along with the rest of your peers that surrounded. “And would ya look at that, she even had a little present for you Levs!” You couldn’t care less about your floral picture - now crumpled and stained with dirt - running through the crowd just wanting to get away. Needing solace anywhere but there to cry as freely as you wanted feeling your heart shatter.

“Why, huh?,” you quietly ask. “What did I do that made you hate me so much?”

A sigh passes his pink lips raking his fingers through his almond strands no longer in that perfect comb over like that night you met him at the bar. His gaze sympathetic; opening his mouth once, but failing to immediately produce any words as if his throat was glued shut.

“N-Nothing, you did nothing okay? I was just a…a dumb kid doing stuff I thought was funny, but they weren’t. I’m sorry I did that all those years ago and…I’m sorry for not apologizing sooner.”

Admittedly, you weren’t expecting to ever get an apology from Pete. Egotistical and self centered, you wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t know what a genuine apology was. But hearing those words, you feel that decades long wound slowly begin to close.

“Forgive me?,” he asks holding out his larger hand between the bars of the metal gate. As expected, you’re apprehensive taking turns looking him in the eyes and at his outstretched hand. “I understand if you can’t or won’t, but I still want to try and make things right.”

Part of you doesn’t want to, but you know the righteous thing to do is to let that pain and bitterness go. For your mentality’s sake at least.

The moment your palm touches his, a squeak falls from your lips as you’re yanked in closer - nearly crashing against the bars of the gate - before Pete’s hands wrap around your neck squeezing as hard as he can.

“Let her go!,” Ari yells trying to pull the man back with his muscular arm around his neck, but he’s quick to headbutt his childhood friend causing him to stumble backwards. Ari’s nose pulsing from the impact as he checks for blood. “You’re gonna kill her!”

“Better her than us!,” he responds tightening his grip. You try to claw and punch at his hand, but every second your brain doesn’t get its needed oxygen, it’s hard to focus. Your eyes beginning to droop and movements slowing as Pete simply chuckles without remorse.

“At first, I wanted you in the looney bin. Now, I think it’s best I get rid of you. Just to make sure you don’t do this again, yea?”

A pop and sharp pain to his leg is what finally has Pete loosening his grip as he howls in pain and you fall to the wooden floor regaining consciousness. “What the fuck?!,” he shouts clutching at the gunshot wound to his calf turning to see his friend holding a black hand gun. “You had that the whole time?!”

“I told you to let go.”

“Let go? She’s the psycho that took us!”

“And you’re the conniving liar that’s stolen money from too many people to count. Including my family,” Ari states still keeping his gun trained on the bleeding man in front of him.

It didn’t take much convincing on Ari’s part to get his parents to invest in Pete’s business. They practically saw him as a second son, so of course they’d do anything they could to help.

Time went by and they never saw any money though.

“These things take time man, just..trust the process!,” Pete responded when Ari brought it up. So he did, until his father became ill. The hospital bills kept coming and coming giving him no choice but to go to Pete again.

Except this time he couldn’t be found. His phone no longer in service anytime he’d try to call. There were rumors he’d moved out of state; some even said out of the country. Either way, it was as if he’d disappeared leaving Ari and his mother struggling to pay for the funeral let alone the remaining hospital payments.

From the pale and clammy tint to his skin, Ari knows he needs a doctor. He can’t seem to care though daring to step on his injury making Pete scream.

“Where’s the money?”

“What money?!”

“Don’t play dumb!,” Ari practically growls stepping a bit harder on the hole in Pete’s leg.

“Ari stop!” At the hoarse voice, both men turn to look at you still on the group gripping your bruised throat. And the way his Adam’s apple bobs gazing at you with eyes full of concern, Pete shakes his head realizing what was in front of him all along.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he chuckles to himself. “Her?! Of all people!”

“Shut up,” Ari grits bringing his attention back to the bleeding man.

“Way I see it, you should be thanking me then. I practically brought you together, although I’d rather not take the credit for setting up my best friend with scary spice.”

In one swift movement, Ari has the gun pointed to Pete’s head. His lower leg still oozing crimson red as he winces from the removal of Ari’s boot covered foot.

“A-Ari just let him go,” you plead. “He needs help.”

“Not until he gives me what he owes.”

“Jesus you two really are perfect together..”

“You really wanna play around with this gun to your head?!,” Ari asks pressing the metal against Pete’s temple. “Money. Now!”

“The money’s been gone!,” Pete shouts back at him. “Businesses have expenses a-and then you grow and others come along-,”

“You never meant to give that money back,” Ari mutters.

After all this time he had a feeling. Basically hearing it confirmed though still has a pang of hurt and guilt expanding in his chest. His mother was near homeless - trying to do whatever she could to keep their house - and it was his fault for trusting his so called best friend.

“Look alright we can work something out!,” Pete bargains with that charismatic smile too many have fallen victim to. “I can try to find something for you around the office or-,”

“No need,” Ari responds lowering the gun to aim for Pete’s chest and pulling the trigger once. The loud pop making you scream as you cover your ears to stop the ringing.

“Oh nonono..,” you whisper to yourself watching more red pool from Pete’s lifeless body. “T-That wasn’t part of the plan!”

“I’ll take care of it. Just go upstairs.”

“Maybe he’s still alive? Y-Yea we could call 911 and get them to help! Just say it was an accident-,”

Amid your panicked rambling, you don’t notice Ari release himself from his shackle before unlocking the barred gate to get to you. His hands gripping your arms so you’d look at him and clearly hear his words.

“No! No 911 or anybody else alright? I’ll take care of it.” Although still afraid, you simply nod letting Ari tilt your head so he could look at your neck marked by Pete’s hands. If he wasn’t already dead he’d kill him for that alone. “It hurt?”

You gently shake your head. “N-No, just a little sore.”

“Good. Now I need you to go upstairs. I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

“But-,”

“Upstairs, now baby.” That quiet, demanding tone always has your body listening as if solely controlled by his voice. Your shaky legs turn towards the basement stairs leading to the main floor of the lake house not daring to let you look back when you hear dragging and muted thuds.

Numb is the best way to describe you striding to your shared bedroom, then the bathroom. Turning on the warm water of the shower head before shedding your clothes to let the droplets caress your skin. The only thing you can seem to think of is Ari pulling the trigger without a second thought and Pete’s eerily still form. His eyes solely gazing at Ari even after the light had left.

You figure you’ll always have that image plaguing your memories. Unable to truly, and happily, live in the present as your past involvement haunts you.

A cold hand to your shoulder has you jumping deeper under the water raining down overhead. You would’ve nearly fell had Ari not secured your body to his.

“Just me sweetheart. You’re alright.”

As he leans past you to grab the washcloth, you notice the red staining his hands. Those same hands that just killed and disposed of a dead body now so gently washing you with the shower gel he loved to smell on you.

His lips leave chaste pecks along your neck while the cloth runs along your chest, stomach, then your arms one by one. “I love you.”

At this moment, you struggle to say the same. The man behind you wasn’t the same man who reached out that random spring day wanting to make amends for his part in your pain along with genuinely wanting to catch up. He wasn’t the same man who made you fall in love with him all over again bringing back those feelings you thought you left in high school. The man who swore no one would get hurt in this perfect plan for revenge he created.

Nevertheless, turning to meet those soft, near-crystalline eyes, you can’t deny the patter of your heart. How it still yearned for his touch, his being, and sought him out for comfort. Your fingers gently scratch along his beard before leaning up to let your lips press along his.

“I love you too Ari,” you whisper.

[dbnightingale24]

First, I want to thank everyone who has read, reblogged, or supported my stories. It means more than I’ll ever be able to put into words, truly. Without you all, I wouldn’t feel confident in launching my Patreon page! I’ll still post fanfics, but I’ll also be taking requests, and posting original stories. I hope you all will follow along, and continue to enjoy my stories! Thank you so much; you’ve given me the confidence I needed to do this. I love you!

Here’s the link if you’d like to follow along:

https://www.patreon.com/user?u=113976020&utm_campaign=creatorshare_creator

(It’ll be more official soon!)

@fuckingbye @emerald-evans @autumnrose40 @thickania

[dbnightingale24]

Just some news and updates for y’all 🎉🎉

So, my Pete Brenner story is finished (yay!! 🎉🎉) and it’s gonna be the first story I post to my Patreon, which I will start charging for. Any story 20,000+ words or more, I’m going to charge for. HOWEVER, I am going to go back to my other stories and finish those, and I won’t charge for the smaller stories. I won’t charge for any WIPs, because that’s kinda fucked (and by kinda, I mean completely). I hope you guys still enjoy and follow along with me!! Thank you all so much!! ♥️💕♥️💕🥰🥰

[starfata]

The massacre of Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Nine, Ten, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen and Seventeen was 1979, seven years before Top Gun, when Pete Mitchell was 17. Enough time to fit in a college education and time to adapt to society in general before entering the Navy.

With Two's possible birth years being from 1960-1964, Maverick would fit in anytime before Eight, if you're willing to disregard the canon character he'd replace (of course you are, fanfic writers can change anything).

But if the Numbered subjects were only the subjects Dr Brenner was most concerned with, then he could have survived a hypothetical other project under the umbrella of MKUltra and been released after it was officially shut down.

Random TGM/Stranger Things

Stumbled into Top Gun fandom- and gee, what other fandom I read fic in is set in the 80's?

Pete Mitchell's about one year older than Kali/8, four years older than Steve Harrington, nine years older than the kids, and at least ten years younger than henry Creel, whose family moved to Hawkins in 1959- three years before Pete was born.

MKUltra was 'revealed to the Public and shut down' 1973, when Pete was about 11.

Duke Mitchell's death, according to one article I just looked up, was 5th November 1965, when Pete was 3.

If his mother also died in the 60's, could Pete have gotten taken in by one of Dr Brenner's contemporaries?

Maybe, maybe not. Long shots and fudging the timeline are 50% of fic writing at times.

What is interesting, is that Season 4 happens the same year as Top Gun.

[dbnightingale24]

Writing 30,000+ words in five days was NOT in my best interest 🙄🤦🏾‍♀️ poll coming soon, guys 💕

[georgiapeach30513]

I can't decide what I am more excited for:

- Pain Hustlers

OR

- your future fanfics about Pete Brenner

Both? Pete is going to be so filthy, so don’t expect a soft Pete. Or can we??

[lanabuckybarnes]

Where do I begin with these two? Im so in love 😫 Hes a real piece of shit and shes a complete and utter sweetheart for letting him into her life again. In my eyes he missed his chance but maybe just maybe he’ll finally change his ways…

caught in the storm | prologue

Summary: As your life faces unexpected changes, you must make difficult decisions for the future of the life inside you. Ultimately, finding yourself torn between love and the need for a better life.

Warning: Substance & Alcohol Abuse. Domestic Violent. Toxic Relationships. Pregnancy. Paranoia. Jealousy. Child Birth.

Word Count: 4757

Spotify Playlist | Support: Ko-FI

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

A/N: This man will not get out of my head, so here you go. Again, this is another part of Prologue season so if you want to know what happens 15 years after this, you gotta let me know :D - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as mine. - B

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick | @sapphirebarnes | @rach2602 | @thetorturedbuckydepartment | @mrsnikstan | @lanabuckybarnes

DAY ONE

The relentless bass thumped through your veins as the music pounded with your racing heart–flashes and flickers of neon lights cast erratic shadows over the crowded room. A red plastic cup was clutched in your hand, weaving through the gathering of people and its contents sloshing close to the rim. Alcohol and cocaine coursed through your system, heightening your senses, everything seeming sharper, louder, and more vibrant. 

A possessive arm was slung over your shoulders. Pete, who at twenty had a reckless confidence that came from his daily mixture of youth and drug abuse. With his wild and unfocused eyes, he leaned in close, muttering something incoherent into your ear, his breath hot against your skin. With a smile plastered across your face, you nodded. 

Stumbling into the kitchen, the countertop was littered with bottles, cans, and an assortment of substances. You heard someone call Pete, offering him a line, and he eagerly leaned over, snorting it up with practiced ease. You watched him, remembering the edge he had been on lately. His temper became more volatile, and his jealousy more intense. Shaking it off, you focused on the moment– his smile, the deeper shade of blue in his eyes. 

As you navigated back through the party, you felt the lingering eyes on you, leading to an instinctive, reassuring squeeze of Pete’s hand. The guys eyed you openly, and Pete noticed every single one. He clenched his jaw tightly, and though you tried to calm him with a hand to his chest, it was too late. He had already begun spiraling. 

“Oh my god, I love this song!” you exclaim, pulling Pete into a dance, trying to distract him. He barely heard you. His gaze darted around the room, and paranoia set in. You could sense it, the storm that brewed beneath the surface. 

“Who the fuck are you looking at?” Pete growled, his voice low and dangerous, directed to a guy nearby. You open your mouth to reassure and answer him, but with an iron grip on your wrist, he begins to pull you away from the crowd.

Before you know it, Pete is shoving you into a bathroom and slamming the door shut behind you. The noise of the party faded into a muffle, leaving the two of you in a tense silence. His eyes were now bloodshot with blown-wide pupils. His expression twisted into a mask of anger and fear. 

“Do you think I’m stupid?” he spat, pacing back and forth in the small bathroom. “Do you think I don’t see the way they look at you? The way you look at them?” 

“Pete, please,” you begin, trying to keep your voice calm and steady in an attempt to diffuse the situation. “No one’s looking at me. It’s just a party, it’s nothing.” 

“Bullshit!” he shouts, his fist coming into contact with the wall, making you flinch. The sharp tang of cleaning chemicals filled the air as it grew thicker with tension. You tried reaching out, tried to touch him, and ground him, but he swatted your hand away. His breathing ragged. 

“I can’t stand it,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “I can’t stand them looking at you, wanting you. You’re mine.” 

“I am,” you insist, tears welling your eyes. “I’m yours, Pete. Only yours… I love you.” 

Stopping, he started at you, and the anger in his eyes flickered. Something raw and desperate, replacing it. He took a step closer, cupping your face in his rough but tender hands.

“Prove it,” he whispered, a slight crack in his voice. “Prove you love me.” 

Nodding, you knew what he needed, what you both needed to keep the fragile peace between you. Lifting on your toes, you pressed your lips to his. The kiss was fierce, a declaration of your devotion. 

He responded hungrily, pulling your face closer. The storm was clearing as the kiss grew more intense. Your bodies pressed against each other in the confined space of the bathroom, the outside party fading further away. It was just the two of you locked in that moment of desperate passion. Pete’s hands moved to roam everywhere, rough and insistent, as if to claim every inch of your skin.

Yanking his shirt over his head, your fingers trembled over his skin. With an almost violent, raw need he teared at your clothes, hurried and uncoordinated. Suddenly, your back hit the cold tiles, making you gasp, but Pete’s lips swallowed your sounds as they met yours again. 

“Mine,” he growled against your lips, his fingers dug into the skin of your hips. “You’re mine.” 

“Yours,” you moan, tugging at his jeans. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he lifted you, pinning your body against the wall. You didn’t care about the pain from the force of his body pressing into you; you needed this. He fumbled with his jeans, pulling them down enough to free himself. 

You guided him inside you, and his moves became instantly frantic, a punishing rhythm. The roughness made you cry out, but a cry of pleasure. His hands tightened their grip on your hips, you knew there would be bruises in the morning. But it didn’t matter. With equal fervor, you met his thrusts, digging your nails into his back. Little red trails left in their wake. 

“Tell me you love me,” he demanded with a harsh whisper against your ear. “Tell me you’re mine.” 

“I love you, Pete Brenner,” you gasp, your voice breaking. “I’m yours.” 

Your words seemed to drive him, his movements became even more intense, jolts of pleasure being sent through you with each thrust. Clinging to him, your bodies moved in a desperate dance for each other. The tension built, coiling tighter until it snapped. 

With a cry, you came apart, your body shuddering against his. A few short moments later, he followed. His nails dug into your soft skin as he let out a low, guttural groan. After a moment, he lowered you to the floor. You both stood panting, trembling. He rested his forehead against yours, desperate eyes searching yours for reassurance. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice broken. “I just can’t stand the thought of losing you.” 

“You won’t,” you promised, tracing patterns along his chest. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” 

Helping each other dress, you stole rough, urgent kisses– almost as if you were trying to reassure each other that you were still there, still together. Stepping out of the bathroom, the noise crashed back around you but Pete held onto you.

For now, you had each other, and that was enough.

~

TWO WEEKS LATER

The harsh fluorescent light made everything feel surreal. Your usual mess cluttered the small space: makeup, hair products, and a full range of skincare items scattered around the sink. But at that moment, it all felt inconsequential compared to the little plastic stick on the floor next to you. 

You hadn’t been feeling well for a few days– nauseous, tired, and unable to focus. Firstly, you chalked it up to being the usual post-party hangover. Yet, when the symptoms didn’t leave, a gnawing worry took root in your mind. You picked up a pregnancy test at the drugstore on a whim, thinking it was only to rule out the possibility. Now, as you sat on the cold floor, waiting for the results, you realized how much hinged on that tiny piece of plastic. 

The second began to feel like an eternity, and your heart pounded in your chest. You noticed your reflection in the full-length mirror, anxiety etched on your face. It was supposed to be just another fun night, another ride with Pete. But, if the test was positive…

The timer on your phone buzzed, jolting you back to reality. Taking a deep breath, you felt a knot of dread tighten in your stomach. Slowly, you picked up the test, your hands trembling. 

Two lines. 

“Oh, fuck,” you whispered. A thousand thoughts raced within your mind, colliding all at once. You’re pregnant. You. Pregnant. The reality hit you like a freight train, you felt breathless and dizzy. 

Standing on shaking legs, your gaze shifted back to the counter, where lines of coke had neatly been arranged. A small reminder of the life you’ve been living for the last year; the parties, the highs, the reckless abandon. Now, everything was different. You were no longer just responsible for yourself. 

You reached out, your hand hovering over the rolled-up dollar bill. The temptation was strong, a familiar need, desperation to escape and numb the overwhelming emotions surging through you. Then, something stopped you. The thoughts of what damage it could do, not just to you, but to the tiny life inside you. 

Tears welled in your eyes as you pulled your hand back. This wasn’t about you anymore. You had to be stronger, better– for the baby. 

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. Thinking of Pete, his wild eyes, his tight grip, his temper. How would he react? What will this mean for both of you? Wiping your tears, you carefully clean away the lines of coke, flushing the remnants down the toilet. A small step, but an important one. 

~

EIGHT WEEKS LATER

In a blur of secrets and growing anxieties, the weeks pass. You had stopped drinking and snorting coke, opting for water at the parties, and trying to stay away from the substance tables. Thankfully, Pete had yet to notice. Too wrapped up in his own constant highs and the cycle of coke and chaos managed to keep him distracted. Under loose clothing, a small curve of a bump was just beginning to show, and it wouldn’t be much longer until it was undeniable. 

That night was no different– another party in full swing, with loud music and dim lights. By now, you had perfected an art of blending in, a red cup filled with water in one hand, and making small talk. All the while you tried to keep a wary eye on Pete, who was already high as a kite as he moved through the crowd. 

You felt his eyes on you, a sense of unease creeping in while you chatted with a friend. Turning slightly to see him watching you, you noted the dangerous glint in his eyes and his jaw clenched. And, before you could react, he was by your side, gripping your arm with a bruising force.

“Come on, Princess,” he growled, pulling you away from the crowd. His grip tightened as you tried to protest, but you knew better than to argue in front of others. Leading you out the back door, the cool night air hit you, and once again the sounds of the party faded. You were left alone with him, under the stars.

With shaky hands, Pete pulled out a cigarette and lit it. Taking a deep drag, his eyes never left yours. “What the fuck is going on with you?” he demanded, his voice low. 

“Nothing, Pete,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, stopping your hand instinctively resting on your stomach. “I’m just trying to enjoy the party.” 

“Fuck you,” he snapped, blowing smoke into the night. “You’ve been acting weird for months. You’ve avoided me, you’re drinking water. What’s going on?” 

You had been dreading this moment, but there was no turning back. Taking a deep breath, you sighed. “I need to tell you something,” you say with a trembling voice. 

He narrowed his eyes, suspicion and anger flickered across his face. “Who is he?” Pete’s accusation hung in the air. His eyes bore into yours, searching for any hint of betrayal. 

“What? No! Pete, it’s not what you think,” you stammered. You could see the storm, beginning to once again brew within him. His fist clenched and unclenched, his body tensing as if ready to lash out. “There’s no one else, Pete. I swear.” 

Taking another drag of his cigarette, the ember glowed ominously in the dark. “What what is it? What the fuck are you hiding from me?” 

You searched for the right words, your heart pounding in your chest. A ticking time bomb and you weren’t sure how much time you had before it exploded. “I-I’m pregnant.” 

The words spilled out, and at that moment, the world seemed to stop. You could almost see the gears turning in Pete’s mind, he stood frozen, his eyes widened: Disbelief, shock, and then anger. 

“What?” his voice was barely above a whisper, but you did not miss the lace of venom. “You’re pregnant?” Another drag. “You’re fucking with me,” he continued, his voice carrying a coldness, now. “This is just another bullshit excuse.” 

“I’m not lying, Pete,” you insisted. “I’m pregnant, and I didn’t know how to tell you.” 

Shaking his head, he threw the cigarette onto the ground, grinding it under his heel. His eyes locked back onto yours as he stepped closer, nicotine, alcohol, and anger mingling in the air between you. “Prove it,” he demanded, anger and desperation rising in his voice. 

Your hands trembled as you reached for the hem of the oversized t-shirt, you took from his wardrobe. The fabric suddenly felt heavy in your grip. And slowly, you began to lift it, revealing the soft curve. The night sky barely illuminated the slight swell, the small sign of the life growing. His gaze flickered down.

Instead of the recognition or understanding that you had hoped for, his expression hardened. “You just look bloated,” he spat, his words sharp, cutting into the fragile moment. 

“Pete, please,” you whispered, tears beginning to well in your eyes as you lowered the shirt. “It’s real. I’m pregnant, I’ve got the tests to prove it.” 

His gaze remained locked on your midsection. “Show me,” again, he demanded, the venom dripped from his lips. 

Once back in your dorm room, you could feel Pete’s eyes burning into your back. The room was small and cluttered, college life evident in the clothes strewn and textbooks piled. Opening your closet, you pulled out a small shoebox hidden under sweaters. 

Turning back, Pete’s expression was a mixture of skepticism and curiosity as you took a seat next to him on the bed. Setting the box on the bed, you opened it and revealed a collection of pregnancy tests. Each one was marked with the unmistakable mixture of two lines, plus signs. 

“I’ve been taking them over the last couple of weeks,” you said, avoiding his gaze. “I needed to be sure. I needed to know it wasn’t a hallucination, not just an effect of the drugs.” 

Pete stared at the tests. Picking one after another up, his face went pale and his hands began to shake. “This is real?” he muttered, questioning himself. “This is happening?” 

“I’m scared, Pete,” you admitted, tears spilling down your cheek. “It’s real, and I’m terrified.” 

Finally looking up at you, you met his gaze, his eyes wide and vulnerable. You had never seen this in him before. “I’ll be better,” he said, his voice breaking. “I’ll stop it all, I promise. I’ll be here.” 

At that moment, you believed him. Clinging to him, the warmth of his broad body was a small comfort against the uncertainty. Yet, there was still a seed of doubt remaining deep down. 

~

FIFTEEN WEEKS LATER

There was a glimmer of hope, you witnessed Pete trying to cut back on the drinking drugs. Yet, as the months went by, his promises faded. The allure of the high was too strong, and his habits quickly resurfaced. He went back to the parties, and in doing so, his fits of jealousy and anger returned. Your heart sank every time you saw him with a bottle or a line. 

You found him one night in the very bathroom where your unborn child was conceived, a line of coke on the counter. His eyes were red and haunted. A knot of dread tightened in your stomach as he met your gaze. “What’s your problem?” he snapped before snorting the line. “Why are you always watching me?” 

“You promised, Pete,” you say, trying to keep your voice calm.

“Yeah, well, it’s not that easy,” he growled, sniffing and wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “You don’t get it.” 

“I do get it,” you say, running a hand through your hair. “You have to think about our baby, Pete.” 

Scoffing, he stepped closer, trapping your body between him and the cold tiled wall. “You and that fucking baby,” he muttered, his body looming over yours. “I can’t deal with this right now.” 

After that night, Pete passed out in a drunken stupor in his apartment. You decided you couldn’t keep doing this. You couldn’t keep holding onto the hope he’d change when it was clear he had no real intentions to. You had to think about your future and the future of your child; with or without him. 

You packed a bag that night, quietly moving while your heart pounded. Afraid of him waking up and stopping you. Writing a note, your hands shook: “I’m sorry, Pete. I love you, but I need to think about our baby. I’ve got to leave and go back to my parents’ house. I hope one day you can find the strength to change. X” 

Slipping out of his apartment, the weight of your decision pressed down on you. The city lights blurred through your tears as you took a cab back to your parents’ house. As you pulled up outside your childhood home, your mom opened the front door, her face etching with concern. 

“Sweetie, what’s wrong?” she asked, wrapping her arms around you, and pulling you into an embrace. 

You broke down, tears flowing freely. “I can’t do it anymore, Mom.” you sobbed. “I-I left Pete, I need help.”

~

NINE WEEKS LATER

Your stomach grew rounder as you settled into a new sense of peace at your parents’ house. And, with it, your determination to provide a better life for your baby. Contact with Pete had been cut completely, you ignored his calls and messages. Only sending him relevant information like when your scans were, in case he wanted to be there. He never came. 

One afternoon, your mom threw you a baby shower brunch. Your friends and family gathered in the backyard, laughter and the smell of fresh flowers filled the air. Surrounded by people who loved and supported you, and their excitement for your baby was contagious. 

Suddenly, there was a knock at the front door. Looking around, the sound immediately sent your heart racing. Something in your gut knew it was him before you even opened the door. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice low but urgent as you stepped out onto the front porch, closing the door behind you. 

There was a mixture of desperation and something else, something almost broken in his wide eyes. His eyes roam from your shoes and up your legs, and then they linger for a moment on your stomach before meeting your eyes. “Can we talk?” his voice hoarse. 

“Pete,” you glanced back through the glass on the door, your heart pounding. “This isn’t a good time.” 

“When is a good time? You haven’t answered my calls in two months,” his voice cracked, and you could see the raw emotions in his eyes, the plea in every fiber of his being. “Please, Princess, just five minutes.” 

You shook your head, the lingering feelings you had for him had you torn between the fierce protectiveness you felt for your unborn child. “I-I can’t, Pete, it’s not a good idea.” 

“What do you want me to do? Get down on my knees? I will, I’ll get down on my knees for you,” he says, his voice trembling with desperation. And, before you could stop him, he’s on his knees. 

Right there, on your parents’ front porch, Pete Brenner had his hands clasped in front of him as if in prayer. “I will change, Princess. I promise, you,” he pleaded. 

Panic rose as you looked around, checking to make sure no one was watching this. The last thing you needed was for your family and friends to see Pete like this– coked up and on his knees. “Please, get up, Pete,” you whispered urgently, glancing back toward where everyone was gathered. “I’ll listen, Pete, please just get up off the floor.” 

He didn’t move, tears brimming in his bloodshot eyes as they locked onto yours. “I’ll change,” he repeated, his voice barely audible. “I need you, I just need you.” 

“Pete, you’re coked up right now,” you said, your heart aching even as your voice hardened. 

Your words caused him to flinch, but he didn’t break eye contact. “I had to see you,” he replied, his voice shaking. “I just needed the courage to get here.” 

“And yet you thought, the best way to do that was to snort that shit and then show you at my fucking baby shower?” your words caught in your throat. 

Pete finally stood, unsteady on his feet as you both stared at each other. The tension between you grew thick, as the air mixed with emotions that neither of you could fully articulate. 

His eyes searched yours desperately. “I just– I just want to talk,” he repeated once again. “To know… I’m still a part of this.” 

“You haven’t been a part of anything, you missed every scan,” you snapped, the hurt and anger you managed to bury for months started to bubble to the surface. “You never showed up. Not once, Pete.” 

“I know, I know,” he quickly said, running a hand through his grown disheveled hair. “I fucked up. But, I’m here now. I want to make this right.” 

The front door swung open before you could respond, and Michelle, your best friend stepped out. Her expression immediately hardened when she saw Pete and his state. 

“Oh great, crackhead is here,” she snaps, crossing her arms, and glaring at him.

“Michelle, as charming as ever,” Pete scoffed, his voice dripped with sarcasm.

“Fuck off, Pete,” Michelle snapped back, stepping closer. She placed herself between the two of you, her body language reflecting her protectiveness. 

“Mich–” you started, trying to diffuse the situation, but she cut you off.

“She doesn’t want you here, dipshit,” Michelle said coldly, her eyes narrowing at Pete.

“She doesn’t, or you don’t?” Pete fired back, his anger rising the longer he remained in her presence. 

“Both, now leave,” her tone left no room for argument, as she stared him down. 

He took a step forward, his jaw set tight, and fists clenched to his side. “Or what? What are you going to do if I don’t?” he challenged, his low voice threatening. 

“Will both of you just stop, please?” you finally shouted, your voice broken through their standoff. You had been trying to keep your emotions in check, yet the stress of the situation all came spilling out. “This isn’t helping anyone, especially not the baby.” 

Turning to you, Michelle’s face softened slightly. “Be honest, do you want him here?” 

Your gaze locked with Pete’s, his eyes filled with desperate hope. “Princess…” 

The truth was, a part of you did want him there. This moment was one you had imagined countless times– Pete by your side, the two of you figuring parenthood out together. But another part of you, the part that endured the pain and disappointment, knew that this wasn’t the time for children’s fairy tales. 

“Please, Pete, just go,” you sighed, a slight tremble in your voice. “I promise, I’ll call you later. Just… please let me have this one day.” 

Pete’s shoulders slumped in defeat, and he took a step back, his eyes never leaving yours. “Boy or girl?” he softly asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“What?” you asked, thrown by the sudden question. 

“What is my baby’s gender?” he repeats, sorrow filling in his eyes, cutting right through you. 

Swallowing hard, the lump in your throat made it difficult to speak. “I-I don’t know, I didn’t find out. It didn’t feel right to find out without… you.” 

For a silent moment, his gaze lingered on your stomach. His eyes flickered with sorrow and hope as they glanced back toward yours. “Promise me, you’ll call me?” 

“Pete,” you began, your tone softer as you tried to balance the tenderness you felt and the boundaries you had to maintain. “I promise you, once this is over and everyone leaves, I’ll call you.” 

“Tonight?” His voice cracked, desperation still clinging to his words.

“Yes, tonight,” you assured him, your voice firm even though your heart raced. 

Seemingly to accept your promise, he nodded slowly, yet you could see the struggle in his eyes. He turned and began walking down the driveway, each step heavy with the reality of his situation. Upon reaching the gate, his hand rested on it for a moment, as though he was gathering the strength to leave. 

Before he stepped through, he turned back toward you, his voice remained low. “I love you,” he spoke, the words hung in the air, raw and real. 

“Pete…” you started, but the words caught in your throat. You couldn’t find the courage to say it back– not now, not like this. Instead, your eyes bore into his, neither of you moving. 

~

SIX WEEKS LATER

In the throes of labor, the room was bright and sterile. There was a beeping from a machine, constantly reminding you of the life about to enter the world. Your mom was by your side, holding your hand as she whispered encouraging words. Waves of contractions made you grit your teeth, but yet even through the intense pain, your thoughts kept drifting back to Pete.

“Has anyone got a hold of Pete?” you asked between breaths, worry filled your eyes as you looked up at your mom. 

Squeezing your hand, her face was a mask of calm. “I don’t know, Sweetie. I told your father to contact him, but I can’t be sure.” 

Nodding, you tried to focus. You believed Pete had a right to be there, but the uncertainty around if he would show gnawed at you. Minutes turned into hours, and your labor dragged on, exhaustion settling in. With every passing moment, your hope diminished. 

“What if he’s not coming?” you whispered, as tears mingled with your sweat. 

“You’re doing amazing, Sweetie,” your mom said gently, brushing your hair back. “Keep focus on the baby.” 

Just as you were about to give up hope, the door to the delivery room burst open. Disheveled and out of breath, Pete rushed in, his eyes wide with fear and determination. “I’m here!” he exclaimed, looking around frantically until his eyes landed on you. 

“Pete?” you gasped, relief and surprise flooded through you. 

Rushing to your side, he took your other hand in his. “I’m so, so sorry I’m late, Princess,” he said, his voice catching as he tried to catch his breath. “I came as fast as I could.” 

In that instant, the tension between you melted away, and the only thing that mattered to you was that he was there. Leaning in closer, he rested his forehead against yours as he whispered, “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” 

As another contraction hit, you squeezed his hand hard, a cry forcing its way out of your throat. Pete didn’t flinch; he stayed holding onto you, grounding you in ways you hadn’t expected. 

Finally, the moment came. One last agonizing push and the room was filled with the sharp, piercing cry of your baby. Relief, joy, and exhaustion hit you all at once. You collapsed back against the bed, tears and sweat continuing down your face, 

“It’s a boy,” the doctor announced, holding up the tiny, squirming bundle. 

As you looked at your son for the first time, your breath hitched. Pete’s grip tightened as he stared at him with wide eyes, awe, and disbelief mixed in his expression.

“You did it, Princess,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as the nurse brought your son over, placing him gently on your chest. The warmth of his body against yours, you could feel his tiny heartbeat, and the reality of what you had gone through started to sink in. 

Pete leaned in, and his other hand reached toward your baby’s tiny fingers. “Welcome to the world, little guy,” he said, his voice full of wonder.

And in that moment, everything was perfect.

---

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