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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year ago

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Same as it ever was 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as neglect, bullying, manipulation, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Between your home life and work, you just can't catch a break. Especially after you draw the ire of your boss.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen ft. Pete Brenner

Note: Hope yall like this one!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Everyone knows to keep their head down when Mr. Hansen walks through the department. As often as he already has a gripe in his belly, he is just as likely to be looking for a victim to accost. You keep your head down as you sense him trawling the bullpen, his figure a speck at the corner of your eye.

You keep an ear pricked, call it paranoia, but you've witnessed the sort of suffering he can rain down on the unexpecting. You browse the spreadsheet, carefully inputting numbers cell by cell. You withhold a sigh, not wanting to give away any clue of your existence.

"Kendra," he leans on the blonde's desk, his other hand on his hip, "pretty name…"

She thanks him. The new girl is always his favourite novelty. It's these moments that make you even more thankful for the obscurity that comes with age. And more disgusted by the unchanging behaviour of creepy men.

"There's this conference next month, good experience for a temp," he offers, "what about it, sweetheart?"

If it was any other man, you might clear your throat to let him know you can hear him. To remind him of professionalism. Too dangerous. You feel a twinge of pain at letting the twentysomething flounder against his undeniable proposal.

"Far away so… we'd have to fly out," he continues and you shift in your chair unthinkingly. You can't help it, you've been there, you've had to smile and fawn, to pretend your skin isn't crawling. "...pack something pretty."

Your elbow hits your pen and it rolls off the edge of your desk. You wheel back to grab and dare a peek over at Mr. Hansen in his predatory posturing. His eyes are drawn to you and he squints as he rolls his tongue behind his lower lip. Shit.

You sit up quickly, repressing a groan at the pang in your lower back, and roll up to your desk. You cradle your face, hiding behind your hand as you scroll and pretend to be enraptured by your screen. You doubt you're enough to distract him from the beautiful blonde.

"They got room service up in Gaines," he continues, "think about it."

He taps two fingers on her desk as he pushes off. You expect him to strut back to his office but continues his walk of the floor. You shrink down and curl your shoulders, looking at your cold coffee in desperation. A good excuse to get away from your desk but you can already hear him rebuking you for getting up just for another cup.

You click to the next sheet in the file as he nears. You stiffen as he comes behind you, holding your breath as you wait for him to pass. You feel him pause and hear the subtle scuff of his sole. You nearly jump as he puts his hands on your shoulders.

He leans in, his overpriced cologne tickling at the migraine in the back of your brain. You select a cell and pull up a report for comparison. He watches you work without a word, hands firmly on your cardigan.

He shoves away suddenly and claps his hand as he twists on his heel.

"Alright team, back to work," he demands as if the whole floor must be rapt by his presence, "no fucking around."

You let out a breath of relief. You glance over at Kendra as she gives a cringe at his back. You want to commiserate but you'd hate to make her feel more awkward.

You wait until you're certain Hansen is in his office and take your half-finished coffee to the kitchen. You rinse it out and dry it before placing it on the tray of the machine. You put a pod in and select the size, standing back with crossed arms to watch it brew.

You hear someone behind you but don't look over. The shadow approaches the fridge and pulls it open, taking out a container seemingly at random. You turn your head and blanch at Mr. Hansen as he cracks the communal carton of milk meant for coffee and drinks directly from it. You try not to show your disgust.

"Morning," he swipes the back of his hand across his mustache, "want some?"

He offers the carton as you grab your mug and shake your head, "no, thank you, sir."

"On a diet? Keeping the dairy low?" He wonders before taking another gulp then looks at the label. "Ugh, who the fuck ordered skim?"

You muster an awkward smile. You've never been good at office politics, you don't pander, you just mind your business and so your work. A good day is when no one bothers you.

He puts the carton back without closing it. You retreat slowly, realising he's between you and the door. You try to sidle past as he reaches into the fridge again. He steps back, nearly into your path and examines the tupperware. You stop short as you recognise the worn teal lid; it's your leftovers from the night before, your name clearly labelled on the top.

"Huh," he peels back the lid and smells the chili, "smells delish…" he dips his fingers to your shock and sucks it off shamelessly, "hell of a cook." He says, a tinge of red in his mustache.

"Uh, thanks, I should–"

"You should?" He arches a brow, "you should… keep your nose out of my conversations and focus on your own work, right?"

"I don't know what you mean–"

"I saw you. Squirming like a caterpillar," he snaps the lid back into place and tosses the whole container on the bin beside the fridge, "look, I know at your age, there’s not much excitement but it doesn't mean you needa eavesdrop on matters that don't concern you."

"I didn't–"

"I get it, you're jealous, your ass blew up after the kids and your husband hasn't looked at you in years–"

"Sir," you say affronted but more stung by the accuracy, "please, I wasn't–"

"Oh, yes, you weren't listening because you have a deadline," he steps closer and wraps his hand around your mug. He wiggles it free of your grasp and you let him, "I moved the budget review to tomorrow morning so…" he pauses and swigs the coffee while snapping his fingers with his other hand, "snap, snap on those expense reports."

You stand, stunned and shamed. He spins nonchalantly and strides out, still sipping your fresh coffee. You let your head fall back and groan. Not only are you out the extra caffeine boost but you have to call the babysitter.

🗄️

You don't mourn your lunch as you likely wouldn't have the time to eat. You spend it outside, below the awning of the building as rain pours over the edge. You have your phone in hand and a needling in your skull. This sort of weather always gives you a headache.

On the fifth try, Pete picks up and you swallow a sigh, "hey," you say abruptly, checking your watch.

"Hey, what's up? I had to leave a meeting," he hisses low, out of breath.

"I'm sorry, I just need to know what time you're expecting to be home. The sitter can only stay until seven but I have to stay late–"

"Late? Honey, you know I can't guarantee I'll be there. I'm working my ass off tryna get this thing off the ground. Grinding–"

"I know, I know, but we could use the overtime and… I don't really have a choice."

"Can't you do tomorrow?"

"Pete, it's one night–"

"One night? It's a call I'm not making–"

"Please," you beg, "we need the money, you know we do."

He puffs and blows a raspberry, "shoulda told that sitter to stick around…" he grumbles.

"We can't even afford to pay her for the extra," you mutter.

"I fucking know–"

"Don't swear at me," you warn, "if you hadn't bought that damn corvette–"

"Not doing this again. I'll be home at seven. Happy?"

You roll your eyes, "yeah," you lie. Happy, no, that's not something you feel anymore.

"Pete," a female voice purrs and he hushes them.

"Got it, Anita," he clears his throat, "tell them I'm on my way back."

"Sorry to keep you," you chew your lip, "I'll let you go."

"Sure," he scoffs.

"See ya tonight," you soften your tone, "love ya."

Click. The call ends and you're left dangling. You pull your phone away and look at the screen. No point in using up the last of your break, you might as well just go back to your desk.

🗄️

Your vision glosses as you stare at the messily painted portrait of a house and tree. The sitter sent a picture of Simone's latest artwork and tugs on your impatience to get out of there. You wish you could be there to pick up your kids and hear all about their day.

Most times you spend the hours after work cooking, cleaning, and trying to rein them in. You're not fun like Emma, their sitter, you're always the voice of reason, the strict ruler of discipline. You send back a heart and black the screen.

Another person packs up for the day, once more tightening the chain that attaches you to your desk. You lean forward, your head pulsing as the brim of your vision blurs. The advil did nothing against your migraine.

You hold your forehead as you squint at the numbers. This is going to take forever. Pushing a budget meeting up one week surely is a personal attack. You need to work on your poker face, you can't do this again. You're too old and tired.

You yawn and fight to keep your eyes open. Maybe Pete can do bath time. You almost snort at that. Right, and hippos are bright pink and friendly.

You shake your head and lean back, trying to stretch out the kinks. You hear the elevator. Eventually you'll get there.

You look around, realising the desolation of your predicament. Not too many people left, at least not those without offices. You roll each ankle, arches achy just from your low heels.

Your phone buzzes and you ignore it. It's six-thirty. You let it go to voicemail and save your file for good measure.

You think of having another coffee but that will only make your head throb and your night sleepless. Well, more than usual.

Your cell starts to jitter again. You're agitated as you snatch it up. It's 7:03. Emma's number greets you in blaring white digits. Dammit, you already know what's going on.

You answer, saving again as you wheel the chair back and reach into the drawer to fish out your purse. You keep the phone to your ear as you say 'hi' and struggle to get your jacket on. Pete!

"Hi, um, I'm still waiting for someone to show up–"

"I'm so sorry, Em," you shut off the monitor without bothering to boot down, "Pete said he'd be there. I'm on my way now."

You step around your chair, nearly tripping over it and push it in behind you. You rush across the office in a clomping gait, half-running as you weigh coming in at 4am and convincing security to let you up early. You continue to apologise to Emma as you promise to be home as soon as you can.

You hang up and dial Pete. As you near the elevator, his voicemail plays and you sneer, hitting end and dialing out again. You poke the down button several times and wait for an answer.

"Pick up!" You growl to no one.

"All done for the night?" A lilting taunt brings you around to face Mr. Hansen as he runs a small comb through his mustache, "you work fast."

"Mr. Hansen, I… I have an emergency–"

"Ah, so you're not done," he tuts, "I figured you'd be used to working fast. I'm sure the old man only last about five seconds, huh?"

"Sir," you bite back your offence, "my kids–"

"Aw, mommy's running late for supper. Let me guess, the dead beat can't even boil water."

You want to shriek. Can this man not shut up? This day just won't end and it's really all his fault. You're welling up and about to explode.

"Please," you utter.

"Oh, come on, you got exactly what you wanted, didn't you? Kids, a husband, the whole nine yards," he tucks the comb into his front pocket, "didn't anyone ever tell you they stop fucking you once you pop at a couple watermelons?"

You gulp. What is happening? Your throat tightens up and your eyes glaze. It shouldn't bother you, he's a gross old pervert but what are you? A bitter and sad old woman.

"You're not going to cry, are you? A strong working lady like yourself? Nah, you can hold it in, for the kids. You got a daughter don't ya, you wouldn't want her to see you break–"

You take a step towards him and stop yourself, palm itching to smack him. You raise your chin and bat your lashes.

"I'll finish the reports at home. I need to go take care of me kids," you fight to keep your voice steady.

"That's the thing about you moms, always the martyr, always looking for special treatment cause you let a guy drop a load indoors," he sneers, "and you're just gonna raise a couple of brats to go off and live the same boring lives."

"Stop," you croak.

"If you're gonna cry, just do it," he goads, "huh, maybe it's menopause kicking in early? All that stress–"

"Good night, Mr. Hansen," you say curtly and face the elevator just as the doors slide apart, "I'll have the numbers done. I promise."

"Oh, I know you will," he snickers, "but you still owe me. For being such an understanding boss, you know?"

You turn around and grimace in confusion. Owe him? He winks and smirks back, "say hi to the kiddos for me."

The doors shut and you close your eyes, hanging your head in defeat. You're going to be up all night, less than ready for the review and certainly unprepared for Mr. Hansen. You can only hope by then he finds a new target.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #pete brenner #dark pete brenner #dark!pete brenner #lloyd hansen x reader #pete brenner x reader #the gray man #pain hustlers #au #boss au #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic

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darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor · 10 months ago

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Same as it ever was Masterlist

Summary: Between your home life and work, you just can’t catch a break. Especially after you draw the ire of your boss.

Status: In Progress

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

#lloyd hansen #pete brenner #the gray man #pain hustler #series #au #multifandom #crossover #dark fic #dark!fic #fic

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shadeysprings · 1 year ago

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Deal or No Deal.

—Pete Brenner x F!Reader

Summary — You work hard to entice the biggest possible client for your company, but he has his own ideas for you to make him say yes.

Warnings — implied noncon/dubcon, coercion, power imbalance. There may be more that I forgot to mention but please read with caution.

Word Count — 986

A/N — Another impromptu fic because the muse was calling for it. Plus, the babies were wanting and who am I to say no and not deliver. Un-beta and no editing has been done so may be sloppy. But we all love some slop anyway haha!

As always, your feedback is highly appreciated and your reblogs would be amazing. And of course, I hope y'all enjoy! ❤️

The bored look on Pete’s face has you feeling even more nervous since you walked into his company. You never should have agreed to take on this project, you should have just stayed quiet and allowed Janice to take it. But no—you had to be proactive, you had to shove it in her face that you are just as good as a sales rep as her, maybe even better. Yet now, as you continue on with your spiel, the presentation you’ve worked so hard on only looks to be going down the drain.

“Next slide.” Pete says, making you stutter in surprise but simply doing as you’re told and leaning down on your laptop to tap the key. The audible groan that emits from him has you edge as you do.

“Our product not only surpasses the ones like it but it’s tested and proven to do more.” You say with the remaining enthusiasm left in your system. “If you can see from the studies we’ve conducted, Jan—”

“Yawn.” Pete utters while actually doing so, leaning against the seat and resting his elbow atop the table, his cheek leaning on his fist. “Is there any version of this where we end up fucking?”

That stops you. Your brows furrowed in confusion with the words that just rolled out of his mouth.

“Excuse me?” You say, disgust and shock curling in your voice.

He chuckles and stands from his seat, exaggeratingly stretching his arms before walking over to you at the end of the long table, fingers grazing over the wooden surface.

“You heard me. That presentation of yours? I’ve seen so many just like it from so many people who, just like you, are desperate for me to say yes.” You hear your heart beat frantically against your chest as he comes closer, your feet taking a step back but no more further as you’re suddenly frozen in place.

“But just like them, I’m going to say no. You know why?”

You don’t know if he’s asking a serious question or simply playing with you, trying to intimidate you with the unknown power he holds over your head.

You don’t respond.

“Let me tell you why. Because it’s boring.” His words are like a vice to your chest. “I’m sure you’ve spent all night perfecting this powerpoint and practicing that speech, but, it just ain’t selling. Nothing about it interests me. Nothing about it makes me want to throw my money at it. And nothing about it makes me say ‘Wow!’”

His large hands trace the edge of your laptop before shutting it close, the room going dim, except for the light coming from the projector as your presentation vanishes.

“Nothing about them draws me in. Except you—” The way he says it makes your skin crawl and you take another step back when you see his eyes run up and down your figure, trapping his tongue between his teeth in the process. “There’s a fire in you. Like you would do anything to prove yourself.” He teases. Stopping just in front of you and framing his hip with his hand, in a way that has you seeing the bulge that has formed in his pants, while his other hand taps against the table, waiting, anticipating your next move.

“So either, you walk out of this room with nothing—a loser like the rest of those chumps waiting outside to talk to me, or you go back to your boss with a big fat sale you can rub onto the one you took this project from.”

Your hand visibly shakes with the tension that’s swirling around you. Is this what you want? To allow this man to order you around and do as he pleases for the sake of your career? What face would you show Daniel if he says no? Pete is one of the biggest clients he’s been chasing and you’ve been stupid enough to try and show off.

Letting out a quivering sigh, you bite your lip and place your notes to the side, looking up at Pete’s face before clenching your fists and looking down at your feet.

“A thousand pieces.” You argue. If you’re losing your dignity, you may as well get something bigger out of it.

“You bend over this table and show me that ass and I’ll think about giving you seven hundred.” He bargains, a playful smirk forming on his lips—a sign of his victory and your defeat.

It’s less yet still more than your initial ask.

Nodding and once more releasing a breath, you lift up your pencil skirt to reveal your backside and lean against the table just like he’s asked. You bite your tongue to stop the yelp that wants to push from your lips when he slaps your ass and whimper in fear and hatred for this man when he grabs you by the waist and presses his clothed erection against you.

“Make it worth my while, Sweetheart. My time ain’t cheap.”

“There’s our superstar!” Daniel says in oblivious excitement when you walk back into your department, Janice and the rest of your co-workers looking at you with expectation in their eyes. “Well?” Daniel prompts. “How many did he get?”

“Fifteen hundred with a possible order next month.” You say in resignation and present him the order slip signed by Pete with a note requesting for another meeting next week. Shock fills his eyes as he stares down at the paper before he punches the air in obvious celebration.

“No fucking way!” Janice says in disbelief, yet the others surround you, bidding their congratulations.

“What did you tell him?” One of your co-workers asks.

“What did you do?” Another.

“She did her fucking best, that’s what.” Daniel says in excitement before hugging you tight. “I never doubted you one second, champ. I’m glad I gave you this account.”

If only you can say the same.

#pete brenner #pete brenner x reader #pete brenner x female reader #dark pete brenner #dark!pete brenner #deal or no deal #pain hustlers #chris evans characters #shadeysprings fics

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dbnightingale24 · 9 months ago

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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

#fanfic #fan fiction #fan fic #Pete Brenner #pete brenner x reader #pete brenner x you #pete brenner x y/n #pete brenner x female reader #chris evans character x reader #chris evans character fanfiction #chris evans characters #Pain Hustlers #Pain Hustlers fanfic #Smut #Angst #Angst and fuff #pete brenner smut

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navybrat817 · 11 months ago

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November Reading List - Part 2 - Non-Marvel

Hey, lovelies! For some reason my original post won't let me save everything , so I have split this into two parts. Here are the non-Marvel character fics I've had the pleasure of reading and reblogging throughout the month of November. Please show these writers some love and heed the warnings for each fic. Remember, you are responsible for your own media consumption. Banner by yours truly and divider by the talented @saradika .

Love, thanks, and happy reading! ❤️

Chris Evans Characters

Andy Barber

Alpha!Andy by @emerald-evans

Second Shot (Ch. 2) by @drabblewithfrannybarnes

Liquid Love by @brandycranby

Ari Levinson

Polar by @avintagekiss24

It Must be That Old Evil Spirit by @vonalyn

The Sun and the Fool by @witchywithwhiskey

Interrogation by @astheskycries

Messy by @inklore

Curtis Everett

Back to Bed by @ghotifishreads

Big Cozy Sweater by @sweater-daddiesdumbdork

Claimed by @stargazingfangirl18

Jake Jensen

Gamer Boyfriend by @eloquentreverie

Nice Guy Jake by @paperweight91

Pete Brenner

Hoe Thought by @labella420

Ransom Drysdale

Cocky Ransom by @krirebr

My Best Friend by @sunshine-on-my-mind

Advent Calendar Day 2 by @fushic0re

Simple Mission by @foodieforthoughts

Sweater Stealing /@paperweight91

Sebastian Stan Characters

Nick Fowler

Worship Your Dark Lord by /@witchywithwhiskey

Misc. Characters

For Years or For Hours (Paul Atreides) by @cocoamoonmalfoy

Needy Gojo by @emerald-chaos

Cold (Eddie Munson) by @ysmmsy

Violent Delights (August Walker) by @littlefreya

Cold (August Walker) by @sillyrabbit81

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sweetiebarnes · 10 months ago

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IMPORTANT INFO ~ As always this is intended for an adult audience only. Minors do not interact! 18+ only - no exceptions. You do not have permission to translate, copy, or steal my work. If you see my work any place other than here or ao3 it has been posted without my consent.

Now to the good stuff...

About the event: New year means a new writing event. It's been awhile since I did my last one so I thought the new year would be the perfect opportunity to have one. Plus, kiddo is now back to school so I have more time to write. Yay! How to request: Please use this form to send it your requests.

Format of the requests: For this writing event you will select one character, an AU, a writing prompt, and one kink. If you do not wish for your request to be an AU there is an option for it to be Canon universe.

Time table: This will take place from now until January 31st. My goal is to have all requests completed by then (unless I get some on the 31st.) Please note that this is a dark writing event. If dark fics are not your thing then please do not participate.

If you have any questions or concerns, don't be afraid to reach out.

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lilacevans · 10 months ago

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𝑛𝑜𝑤, 𝑖 𝑑𝑜 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑎𝑠𝑘… 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑢𝑎𝑙 𝑓𝑢𝑐𝑘 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑔𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜?

— lila’s secret project🤎

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evansbby · 1 year ago

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#and by last night I mean just now #something not so chill happened just now #and y’all are gonna hate me for it #😭😭😭😭😭😭#I may or may not have…..written a lil Pete BRENNER fic 😩😩😩😩😩🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣#AHHHHHH I FEEL SICK I FEEL GROSS #I couldn’t help it #I just started typing and typing #y’all are grossed out by me I know iKNOW #🌺 anon is prob disgusted 😂😂😂#I just couldn’t help it yall #I was feeling things…..#OH FUCKKKK #anyways #my thoughts 💭

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krirebr · 1 year ago

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I feel like Pete Brenner and Ransom would get along really well, except for the fact that Ransom would totally look down his nose at Pete because you can tell by how his suits don't quite fit that he's new money and I feel like Ransom would have a lot of attitude about that. Even though Ransom is also, technically, new money.

#pete brenner #pain hustlers #ransom drysdale #knives out #chris evans #fic stuff

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 9 months ago

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Same as it ever was 12

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as neglect, bullying, manipulation, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Between your home life and work, you just can’t catch a break. Especially after you draw the ire of your boss.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen ft. Pete Brenner

Note: just having a bit of a break with some messiness.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

“Mom, you have to sit down,” Simone nags as you pace, clutching your lower back as you chew your thumb.

You haven’t been able to sit still. Not since Hansen and Pete disappeared into his ‘office’, rather, the garage. You stop and look at your daughter as she holds her book closed on her lap. She hasn’t opened it all night. Her concern plummets in your stomach.

“Sorry, I–”

“I put your cushion on the couch,” she says and points to the sofa where she’s stacked the two pillows against the arm.

“Aw, you’re so sweet, honey,” you go to the couch and stare at the donut cushion. You brace the back and slowly angle yourself down. The tension eases enough for you to sigh.

“What about the medicine the doctor gave you?” She asks.

“After dinner,” you hiss as you try to get comfortable, “can’t have them on an empty stomach.

“Mommy,” Malik pops his head up from scribbling with his crayons, “I’ll go get Donny!”

“Mal–”

He’s already running from the room before you can stop him. You put your hand to your forehead and repress a sob. It’s not just the agony at the crux of your spine, it’s everything. It’s the stress pulsing in your head like a maelstrom. Hansen has wholly and completely invaded your life.

Maiik returns and shoves the stuffed dragon onto your lap. You thank him and kiss his forehead before you send him back to his drawing table. Simone sits with her jaw locked, staring at the wall as if she can see through it.

“Sim, what’s going on?” You ask.

“Why did you let him come in?” She hisses.

You sigh, “Simone, I tried–”

“He’s a weirdo. And he’s mean to you.”

You chew your lip, “he’s my boss.”

“So he should boss you around at work. He shouldn’t follow you home.”

“I know, okay, honey. He’s just… He’s interested in your dad’s work.”

“Sure,” she rolls her eyes. “Mom,” she takes a breath and waits for you to nod before she continues, “how did you fall?”

You hesitate and rub your neck. You’re so tired. Not just physically. You’re tired of lying and bending over backwards for everyone. You just want to close your eyes and stop thinking.

“I was taking a shower and I slipped,” you tell her the basic truth.

“Oh,” she gives a thoughtful grimace, “well…”

“It’s a good reminder to be careful,” you say. “I’ll be fine. I’ll get some x-rays done and you’ll see it’s nothing.”

Simone's face pinches as if she wants to argue more but thinks better of it. She opens her book as she leans back but keeps her gaze on the wall. She's a reflection of your own anxiety as she fidgets.

You try to relax as your tailbone radiates again and your back locks up. You just have to make it through the night. And the next and the next.

The doorbell rings and jars you just as your lashes droop. Simone jumps up, snapping her book shut. You frown and let out a whimper.

"Sim?" You murmur.

"I'll get it," she nods and throws her book on the cushion.

She sprints off to the entryway as Malik looks over curiously. You listen to the brief exchange, your daughter greeting the visitor and the crinkle of paper. As the savoury aroma wafts in, you realise it's just the food.

"Simone, you need help?" You call through a grunt as you try to sit up.

"Mom, don't move," she hollers back. "Mal, get over here."

Your son jumps up and races out to help her. You huff and recline once more. Even your stubbornness can't get you off that couch now.

You hear the garage door and peer over as Pete's laughter floats in the air. You sigh. Of course they get along. Why wouldn't they? The stars always align to fuck you over.

"I smell something delicious," your husband chimes as he appears in the archway, rubbing his stomach.

Your own grumbles as a pang of resent claws in your chest. You stare at his shirt and how it hangs slack over his hard stomach. He has time to work off his carbs, you just sit in an office and pile on the pounds.

"You'll love this place," Hansen calls from behind him as the kids carry the bags in from the door, Malik struggling under the weight of his armful.

"Pete," you snap and point to the wobbling six year old.

"Oh," his eyes round and he quickly lifts the heavy paper bag from his son, "sorry."

"Hey," Malik pipes up, "I'm strong enough."

"Mal, you don't wanna drop it," you gird and shift again, your tailbone throbbing. "Ah..."

"Honey, you okay?" Pete asks as he takes another bag from Simone, leaving her only one.

"Fine," you growl.

He gives a sheepish smile and beckons the kids into the kitchen, "come on, go sit at the table and give your mother a break."

"Save room for dessert," Hansen adds.

You roll your eyes as you hear Simone grumble something unintelligible. God, is she ever your daughter. You don't even try to get up. You don't like being helpless but if you don't relax, it will only get worse.

You listen to the noise from the kitchen. Pete rearing the children to the table as cupboards opening and closing and porcelain and cutlery clink together. Your skin crawls at the thought of Hansen going through your things.

You know what this is. He's intruding and making sure you know it. He doesn't just have an iron grip around your existence in the office, he's pawing at your home life like a greedy dog.

He enters and brings you a plate. You sit up with an effort and he smirks as he holds out the medley of sides and plank of steak. You accept it with a grumbled thanks.

"You take it easy, sweetheart," he pets your head as he bends over you, "we need you in tiptop shape so you can get back to work."

You grimace but don't say a word. He lets his fingertips tick along your cheek and you jerk away, squeaking with the jolt of pain across your back. You grit your teeth and grab the fork and knife.

"Eat up," he winks as he pulls away, strutting back into the kitchen.

You shake your head and look down at the plate. As much as you'd love to smash it in his face, you're starving and you need something to pad your stomach before you take those painkillers. You don't need to be nauseous on top of everything else.

You scoop up the whipped potatoes, the fleck of chive and garlicky smell makes your mouth water. They taste just as good as they smell. You can only imagine how much he spent on a meal for five. A debt you'll no doubt pay back.

"Honey," Pete enters, "can I get you a drink? Some wine?"

"Water," you say tersely.

"Yes, dear."

He goes back into the kitchen and you listen to him puttering around. He just annoys you by being there. Even his help is a nuisance. He comes back with a tall glass of water and sets it on the low coffee table before dragging it closer so you can reach. He leans over to peck your temple.

"Love you," he utters tremulously. You look at him. He winces and his cheeks dimple with a strained smile, "I'm trying," he croaks.

You say nothing and focus on cutting into the steak, your knife hitting the plate harshly. He stand and takes a step back.

"Your boss really likes my ideas. I think he's going to invest--"

"Would you go look after the kids?" You hiss, "please?"

"I..."

"Thank you for the water," you snip.

He backs away and apologises. It irritates you how he makes himself so pathetic. As if he's the victim in all this. He slept with that young intern, he dropped you in the shower, and you're paying the price for all of it. Say what you will about Hansen but you didn't jump into his arms. You're just trying to take care of your family. Something Pete's never even considered.

You chew angrily, sinking into the bitterness. This is just great. You're crippled and stuck here with two idiots. On top of that, your kids have to sit there with those creeps. Ugh. You will do better, you have to.

You eat in silence, hearing the chatter from the dining room. The kids don't say much as Pete and Hansen continue their conversation about stocks and rates and all that pompous bullshit. Your husband doesn't really seem to get it since his company makes absolutely no money, they very reason your boss can't wait to shove his hand down your pants at every fucking opportunity.

Where are those goddamn pills? As much as you need the damn pain to stop, you need to stop thinking. You're only making it all worse. Your purse is by the door. Too far.

You huff and keep eating. After. The food distracts enough from the agony.

You clear your plate and set it aside with effort. You wash down the remnants with a gulp of water and ease back onto the pillows. As you sigh, footsteps interrupt your peace.

"Ready for something sweet?" Hansen taunts.

Your eyes flutter open and you turn your head to him.

"I got some cheesecake," he takes your plate off the coffee table, staying bent as he lowers his voice, "but if you're thinking of something sweeter, we could figure something out."

You sneer and he snickers as he stands straight. He shamelessly adjusts himself through his pants, concealing his growing arousal under his belt. He clears his throat and walks away.

"Pete, the wife likes extra cream on hers," he declares as he enters the kitchen.

Your stomach flips. He is disgusting. You cross your arms and scowl at the window. Just dessert and then he can leave.

Hansen returns with a slice of chocolate cake, a healthy dollop of whipped cream on top. He offers the small plate and you accept it wordlessly. He watches as you cut through the tip with your fork.

"Get some of that cream," he hums and squeezes your shoulder.

"What the hell are you doing?" You snarl under your breath.

"Just wanna see you have a bite," he purrs, "you're so good at swallowing it all down--"

"Enough," you puff out, mortified as you peer over your shoulder.

"Chill," he raps his knuckles against your shoulder, "you need to take the edge off. Did the doctor give you the good dope?"

You sniff and turn your attention to the cheese cake. You hover the small portion on the fork and hesitate. You don't need the sugar. You look down at your stomach and rest the plate on your lap.

"Well? Did you take anything for your broken ass or not?" He scoffs.

"In my purse," you snip and scoop up the cheesecake, stuffing it in your mouth before you can call him a douche bag.

He looks around and wanders out to the entry way. He returns with your purse and fishes around in it. You glare at him as he does. He takes out the pill bottle and rattles it before he reads the label.

"Take two with food," he says, "how convenient, you're eating right now."

"And I got a big pain in my ass," you retort.

He laughs and uncaps the bottle, nearing as he offers you two pills. You take one for now and rest the plate in your lap. You reach for the glass of water and he wiggles his hand.

"Bottle says two," he insists.

"I'm fine. I got kids to take care of."

"Your husband's got a hold on all that, go on," he shoves his hand in front of your face, "really, you keep that stick up your ass and you're gonna stay like that."

You sniff and swipe the other tablet from his hand. You shove both in your mouth and drain half the glass. You smile at him and slam the cup down on the table.

"You're right," you snort, "it'll make putting up with you a whole lot easier."

"That's the spirit, sweetheart," he says, "think I'll just wait for my dessert..."

He turns and strides away. You mull over his ominous statement, not quite sure what he means. Knowing him, you should be worried but he's the least of your troubles at the moment.

🗄️

You feel lighter than you have in years. The medicated fog has you bleary and relaxed. You haven't felt this carefree in... ever? You sink into your own body, caught in a muted daze. You're vaguely aware of the room but unconcerned by the activity all around you.

"Kids," Pete says in exasperation, "jeez, must've had too much sugar."

"My bad," Hansen quips as sways his leg before him. The motion catches your eye and you peer over, hypnotised by the movement.

"It's his bath time," Simone says.

"Is it?" Pete pushes back his floppy hair and catches Malik as he runs in circles.

"Yep," Simone says dully. "He goes at seven, I go after him."

"Oh," your brainless husband utters.

"Think you're on duty, Petey Boy," Hansen muses, his hand kneading his own thigh, "old lady's in rough shape."

"Mom?" Simone approaches, hugging her book to her chest, "can you please tell him to go away?"

You just babble and smile, reaching out to touch her hair, "I love you, sweetie."

"Must be some strong... stuff the doc prescribed," Hansen scoffs.

"Why don't you go read in your room?" You pat her shoulder, "you always love reading."

She frowns and sways to look at the man in the armchair, watching with an amused grin. Hansen's a bit less sinister in the haze of your sedation. His mustache looks fuzzier than usual.

"I should stay--"

"Come on, Sim," Pete hikes Malik over his shoulder, "let's go. I might need help with your brother."

"Ugh," Simone huffs and drops her shoulders, "dad, can't you do it on your own?"

"You heard your mother, go to your room."

"I'll keep an eye on the old lady. Just in case she needs anything," Hansen intones, "I had an old injury in college. I took a few painkillers and thought I was new again. Ended up hurting myself all over again."

"Good idea," Pete agrees as Malik writhes in his grasp, "kids."

He snaps his fingers and your son still as your daughter tramps after him, sending one last glare towards Hansen. You turn your head straight and blow a raspberry. You're free, no pain, no worries, no feelings.

You listen to the racket of Pete's ascent and the bickering of the children. You giggle at the chaos. For once, it's not you.

You twitch as you feel a tickle along your arm. Hansen hushes you and winks as he lowers himself to one knee beside the couch. You hadn't noticed him move. You peer over at the chair and back to him. You sneer and reach to tug the short hair above his lip, wanting to rip it off. He wouldn't look so stupid without it.

"Hey, what--"

"Like a little caterpillar..." you slur.

"Alright, sweetheart," she pushes your hand away, "let's just... take it easy."

He puts his hand on your thigh and you look down at it. You furrow your brow as he squeezes before slowly dragging his palm up to your stomach. You grab him and try weakly to push him away.

"What are you doing?" You hiss.

"Shhhh," he presses his other index to his lips, "you don't want the family to hear, do you?" He angles around and turns his hand, sliding it beneath the elastic top of your pants, "mommy's having her me-time."

"Please..." you gasp as he shoves his hand down your panties. You clench your thighs together but he forces two fingers between your lips. You choke and swiftly hooks his other arm behind your hand, smothering your mouth with his palm.

"Now, now, you're going to scar those kids if they walk down here and see you zonked out and riding my fingers," he snarls, "so lay back and enjoy, sweet cheeks."

He rubs you and hot breath steams out from your nose, your murmurs muted by his grasp. You know he should stop, you should want him to stop, but you don't. Your eyes roll back as he rubs your clit, teasing you as he flicks and rolls. Your legs fall apart and your head lolls against his arm.

"That's it," he keeps his fingers moving, "you know, the whole mom thing is starting to get me." He keeps betting you, rubbing harder and faster with each swirl, "yeah, I feel you shaking for it too..."

You pant over his knuckles as he slips his hand further, curling his fingers inside of you as he pushes the heel of his hand to your bud. He jerks his arm, fucking you until you squelch around him. The noise alone adds to your slickness and tips you over the edge. You spasm in the tide of an orgasm as it cuts through the numbness.

"Mmmm," he purrs and slides his fingers free. He drags his hand out of your pants and shows you the gleam of your cum on his fingers. He smirks and shoves them into his mouth. He sucks them clean and stands, his pants bulging. "Delicious."

A thump comes from above and Pete hollers, "Malik, get back here."

There's a short chase down the hallway, bare slapping feet, and a grunt. You blink and shake your head. Hansen looms over you and snickers.

"Look at daddy doing all the work while mommy's having fun," he grabs your chin and bends over you, "I clocked that guy the minute I saw him, I can tell by the way you soaked your panties he's not fucking you worth a damn." He lets his hand fall to your throat and exhales hotly, "don't you worry. Once you're back on your feet, I'll have you on your back. Or maybe ass up.”

#lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #pete brenner #dark pete brenner #dark!pete brenner #pete brenner x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #multifandom #the gray man #pain hustlers #same as it ever was

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