#green street hooligans

[dallevo68]

[laurfilijames]

Like My Dreams

Part 6

Pairing: Pete Dunham x female reader

Words: 7.3k

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Swearing. Violence. Alcohol consumption. Sex.

Summary: Your incident with Tommy comes to a head, making Pete decide between doing what is right by you or by his firm and everything he stands for.

A/N: I know it's been a while and I still do not plan to be active on here, but I figured I'd share this since it's what I've been working on until I finish my Breathe series and post the final chapter. It seems I've had a lot of new readers to this fic recently which is surprising but nice and I hope you enjoy! Thank you to everyone for sending kind messages and tagging me in things, I see you and appreciate you 💗

Part 5

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Pete didn’t think he had ever been so worried about anything before in his life. The knot in his chest battled for attention with the sick feeling in his gut, making him nauseous and almost dizzy from being so anxious.

His sweaty palm gripped his phone tightly, having just ended a quick call with Fiona after having already called your sister, Clair and Swill, none of them having heard from you since earlier in the day.

Pacing the space between his kitchen and the door, he tried to work out what to do; to stay and wait in hopes you came through the door or returned his incessant unanswered calls, or if he should get in his car and drive to Millwall to Tommy’s garage even though he still wasn’t sure that was a possibility of where you had taken your car.

“Fuck!” he yelled, cursing himself for not having paid more attention to the details of who was doing your repairs, his mind going a mile a minute with all the horrible thoughts of what could be happening to you right now.

He exhaled deeply through his nose, trying to calm the continuously rising anger and panic, closing his eyes while reminding himself that everything could be perfectly fine and just because the mechanic you had taken your car to was in Millwall, didn’t mean it was Tommy Hatcher.

But of course, everything else he had been thinking crept back up to the surface again, and in a fit of frustration and helplessness, Pete turned and punched his hand into the wall beside him.

Wheezing breaths between broken sobs sounded distant to your ears even though they were coming from your own mouth, your hands gripping the steering wheel like a vice as you drove on autopilot, survival and getting home being your only instinct.

It wasn’t until you hit a small pothole in the road that you seemed to blink into awareness, a gasp blowing out of your lungs as you realized you weren’t even sure how you got yourself from Tommy’s garage to where you were now, and as you looked at the buildings around you, panic settled in when you discovered you didn’t even know where you were.

You pulled your car to the side of the road, turning your four-way lights on, and covered your face with your hands as you began to cry even harder, the gravity of what had just happened to you settling in.

Leaning forward, you removed your hands from your face and returned them to the wheel, resting your forehead against it as you tried to collect your thoughts and decide what to do next, only to jump back in shock at the realization of Tommy and Martin having every opportunity to have tampered with your car. You turned off the ignition and unbuckled your seatbelt as quickly as you could, climbing out of the driver's seat as if the thing was on fire, bringing your hand up to rake through your hair as you stared at it and took a couple steps back onto the footpath, finding it impossible to believe how stupid you could be to not consider they could’ve planned to kill you by meddling with something critical.

Still unable to stop your tears, you reached in and grabbed your phone from your purse on the passenger’s seat, wiping the moisture from your eyes enough to see the screen that showed numerous missed calls, mostly from Pete.

You took a deep, steadying breath as you hit the button to dial his number, not wanting to sound as hysterical as you felt, your free arm wrapping around your torso for an ounce of comfort as you reminded yourself you were fine.

Pete picked up before the first ring even finished, and the moment you heard his voice, your lip trembled like mad and all that came past your lips was a sob as you broke down again.

“Where are you?” he asked, the urgency in his voice forcing you to try to focus on what was around you.

“Erm,” you blew out a shaky breath, looking around at the dark buildings that seemed to be towering over you, making you feel even more small and vulnerable. “I- I don’t know…”

You heard him curse under his breath, and rushing to try to concentrate, you glanced around for a street sign and read him the name.

“I know where that is. Don’t move, alright?” he asked, and you knew he was running from how his voice rattled.

“Pete, stay on the phone with me?” you cried, hugging yourself tighter, the cold of the night making you shiver.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he assured you.

It felt like the longest sixteen minutes of your life, waiting for Pete to get to where you were.

You stood in the dark on the side of the road, not daring to sit in your car again in fear it would blow up if you turned the key in the ignition again, and just as your luck would have it, it started to rain.

You wrapped your coat tighter around you, feeling your whole body trembling like a leaf as you impatiently waited, praying that each car that approached would be Pete’s.

Having him stay on the phone with you was helpful, hearing him give updates on how far away he was, the sound of him cursing at other drivers to hurry up and get out of his way distracting and somehow comforting.

Pete hadn’t even put his seatbelt on, maneuvering through the streets as fast as he possibly could, and reaching the intersection you had given as your location, he spotted your car pulled over to the side with you standing nearby.

His door was open before he could even fully shift into park, stepping out and running over to you, not thinking twice before gathering you in his arms and holding you against his heaving chest.

His heart broke when the sob you let out reverberated through his body, feeling you fall limply against him as he held you up, his lips pressing onto your wet hair as he spoke the only words that he could form.

“Shh, I'm here. I'm here,” he kept repeating, trying to soothe both you and himself.

After a minute Pete pulled away enough to look at you, clasping your face in his hands as he tried to assess you, his teeth clenched tight.

“Are you hurt? Do you need to go to hospital?”

You shook your head no, trying to stop your tears from falling by not speaking.

Pete sighed, but trusted you to be honest with him if you were injured, his thumbs brushing the wet streaks away from your cheeks.

“The police?”

All you could manage was to shake your head no again, closing your eyes when you saw anger rise up in his, the grip he had on you when he moved his hands down to your shoulders tightening with his frustration.

“You need to tell me what happened!” he shouted, a strong mix of anger and urgency ringing in his voice.

It made you flinch, the memory of Tommy yelling in your face too fresh that having Pete raise his voice at you was a shocking reminder, the similarity between the man you loved and the man who feared making you feel sick.

Noticing your discomfort, Pete tried to calm himself, taking a deep breath in realizing that he wasn’t helping.

“Just tell me what happened so I can help,” he pleaded, his voice softer but still laced with insistence.

“I will. I promise I will, but I just want to go home. I’m fine, I swear.”

When Pete tilted his head defeatedly, giving you a look like he wasn’t convinced, you simply begged, “Please.”

You dug your forehead against his chest again, your arms wrapping around him and beneath his jacket where you tried to steal some of his warmth, mumbling against him when you felt him sigh heavily through his nose.

“Just take me home.”

“Right, okay,” he accepted, kissing the top of your head again before peeling himself away from you.

“Is there anything you need from your car? I’ll come round to get it tomorrow with one of the lads.”

“Umm, just my bag.”

You remained as close to him as you could as he opened your car door and stooped inside, grabbing your bag off the passenger seat before closing and locking it, putting his arm around your shoulders to tuck you into his side as you walked over to his vehicle that still sat running.

It was completely silent aside from the squeak of the wipers clearing the rain off the windshield and the heavy drops hitting the steel, the odd sigh coming from Pete resonating in your brain that was muddled with a million things and nothing all at once.

You jumped when you felt a hand land on yours, only to breathe when you realized it was Pete’s and remembered that you were safe, the look on his face making tears crawl up to your eyes again and threaten to spill out.

“Sorry,” you croaked, weaving your fingers with his, watching the pain reflecting in his eyes as he shook his head before staring back at the road, bringing your joined hands up to his lips where he kissed yours and kept your knuckles resting against his mouth.

Your heart sank when the door on the lift opened and revealed Mrs. Platt standing on the other side waiting to go down to the lobby, and you blinked and averted your gaze, hoping she wouldn’t make any cheeky comments let alone notice how bloodshot and puffy your eyes were.

“Mrs. Platt,” Pete greeted, flatly, and you dared to glance up to see what her response would be.

Her mouth hung open, about to speak, only to close it again when she took in the sight of you and the somber expression on Pete’s face, choosing to give an understanding nod as she stepped to the side and let you both pass by and walk over to Pete’s door.

Pete stood in place after coming inside the flat, watching you remove your soaked jacket and take your shoes off just as you had any other time, the normalcy of your actions haunting him as you made it seem like whatever had made you so distraught hadn’t even happened.

You went over to the kitchen, filling the kettle before turning to reach for your mugs, the way your hands shook as you brought them down off the shelf prompting him to move and take over.

“Let me,” he insisted softly, his eyes fixed on you even as he retrieved two teabags from the container and readied them in each mug.

“I’ll go change,” you spoke, your voice passive and hollow.

Pete nodded, the worry that screamed within him building up to be unbearable, bracing his arms against the counter as he blew out a long exhale and tried to stave off the emotions that were becoming more and more difficult to swallow down. The fact that he still didn’t know a single thing that had happened to you was killing him, and he clenched his teeth together hard in order to stop himself from stomping through the flat and demanding answers from you, willing himself the patience to let you tell him when you were ready.

By the time the tea had brewed you were back in the living room, sitting on the sofa wearing your favourite West Ham jumper of his, tucking your legs up on the seat where you hugged them close to your chest.

“Here,” he said, quietly, holding your mug out for you to take, sitting on the coffee table directly in front of you as he watched you hold the tea with both hands, closing your eyes as you let the warmth spread through your fingers.

“I need you to talk to me, love,” he pleaded as gently as he could despite how he felt. “I’ve been worried sick, trying to get hold of you, not knowing where you were–”

“It was Tommy,” you interrupted, your heart plummeting into your stomach the same way his face fell at your words.

He turned pale and the muscles in his cheeks flinched wildly, and he shook his head frantically as his brows knitted together.

“The mechanic I took my car to was Tommy,” you began, trying to remain as composed as possible as you started from the very beginning.

It surprised you how calm Pete remained as you explained everything to him, his rage over the situation only evident in the way his leg bounced up and down and how he wrung his hands together until his knuckles were blanched, his tea sitting on the table beside him long forgotten after needing to put it down in fear of breaking the mug or throwing it at the wall.

He ran his hands over his hair roughly as he sighed out, looking down between his legs as he processed everything you told him, prompting you to assure him one more time that you were fine.

“I’m okay.”

He shook his head as he looked back up at you, his expression seething.

“I’ll fucking kill him.”

“No, you won’t, Pete.”

Another heavy sigh blew out his nostrils.

“He didn’t–”

“No,” you cut him off, somewhat stern in your answer, having to reiterate that Tommy hadn’t followed through with his threats of sexually assaulting you other than rubbing against you.

“And you’re not hurt?”

You shifted in your seat, reassessing your muscles and bones now that you had settled a bit, the adrenaline having simmered enough for you to tell if there was any pain.

“My ribs are a bit sore,” you realized, holding your side where they had been previously cracked, your fingers dancing over the area that had been slammed into the handle of the cabinet. “But I’m okay. I don’t need a doctor, it’s just a bruise.”

“You can report this to the police, you know,” he stressed, his eyebrows high on his forehead.

“I’m not doing that. It’ll just cause more trouble. What if he comes after us? Or Jack?” you restated, reminding him of the threats Tommy had given. “Besides, I don’t want this making the coppers dig into your fight with him and putting the heat on the GSE.”

Pete clenched his teeth and shook his head, not making eye contact with you, the mix of rage and nausea settling in his gut like nothing he had ever felt before and rising up his throat along with the guilt that washed over him knowing that the dealings of his firm had come down on you.

“Pete,” you whispered, your voice soft in your plea. “It’s okay, I’m okay. Just please tell me you won’t do anything stupid. I don't think he'd be thick enough to try anything again so let's just leave it, yeah?”

He sighed deeply, his jaw set as he looked away, clearly thinking over your request and debating everything he knew.

“Pete,” you called, the urgency potent in your voice. “I need you to promise me. The consequences won't be worth it.”

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, and eventually he met your eyes again. “Okay, I won’t.”

You placed your hand on his and turned it so you could lace your fingers together, squeezing it three times where he automatically returned the act of endearment.

“I’m going to shower and go to bed. I’m tired and cold,” you explained, tilting your head slightly to meet his pained eyes.

“Yeah, okay,” he nodded, seeming helpless and defeated.

You stood, not letting go of his hand. “Shower with me?”

“‘Course, love.”

The warmth of the water and Pete’s body spread through what felt like to your bones, relieving every ache and tension caused from earlier as you stood unmoving in his embrace. His hands traveled slowly up and down your back as you rested your head on his shoulder, losing yourself in the calming tempo of his breaths, the smell of his wet, warm skin seeming more heavenly than usual.

The shower appeared to be helping Pete relax as well even though you knew he was struggling to, and you’d happily let your skin turn permanently pruney and stay here for as long as it took for you both to feel better about what had happened, feeling no rush to step out of this safe bubble and into the cold reality that existed beyond the shower walls.

As much as you knew he wanted to keep an eye on you, you couldn't deny you were doing the same with him, part of you fearing he'd run out the door to go after Tommy had you not requested he join you.

With the warm water having finally run out and your eyes turned heavier than you could stand to tolerate any longer, you retreated to his bed, the plushy comfort of the mattress consuming you when you sank into it, the sheets exceptionally soft and welcoming against your cleansed skin.

Pete lagged behind, the sound of him brushing his teeth before climbing into bed registering just before you succumbed to your exhaustion, your body able to fully relax now that he was back beside you after feeling the bed dip to his weight.

He laid there for hours completely awake, staring up at the ceiling as his hate grew to a level he didn’t know was possible. It was one thing for Tommy to attempt to wipe out the Dunham name, but to go after you…

The choice to remain in bed rather than going to hunt Tommy down was nearly impossible, and the longer he stayed, the more rage he felt at doing nothing about it.

Pete feared if you hadn’t been as exhausted as you were, you would’ve woken up by his breathing alone, the way he was seething unable to be controlled, his pounding pulse seemingly louder than the street noise that sang outside the window.

His mind participated in his own torture by alternating graphic visualizations of everything Tommy had said and done to you with all the vile ways Pete wanted to act out every infliction of pain on him, the consequences of killing him worth it in this moment, but each time you stirred or let out a sleepy moan, he knew no satisfaction in that would be worth losing you.

He sighed and rolled over to face you, his front lining up to your back, wrapping his arm around your middle to tuck himself against you, his face buried in your neck where he breathed slower and deeper in a way to fend off the frustrated tears that were bubbling to the surface.

Pete was marvelled that he managed to sleep, let alone as long as he did, blinking awake in the grey, late morning light. He rubbed his eyes and twisted his body to check the time on his alarm clock, sneaking out of bed as best he could to not wake you as you remained sleeping peacefully in the spot in his bed you claimed each time you were in it.

He limped to the kitchen, his leg feeling worse than usual, the stiffness that remained since Tommy had broken it more prevalent today and likely because of how tense he had been from yesterday’s events.

Pete popped the lid open on the kettle to check how much water was left in it, deciding it was enough to make a pot, and clicked the button to get it boiling.

A soft rap on the door caught his attention, frozen on the spot as he listened for any other indication of him needing to answer it, his brows knitting together with curiosity when he heard what sounded like Mrs. Platt’s door closing in the hallway.

He opened the latch and poked his head out, finding no one there, the only evidence that he wasn’t hearing things being a casserole dish covered in foil on the floor in front of him with a note on the top.

Heat at 180 for 30 mins

Knock if you need anything…

Mrs. P

Pete couldn’t help but smile as he picked it up and closed the door behind him, grateful to have a neighbour like her who, although nosy at times, was attentive enough to know something was wrong and caring enough to do what she could to help.

He lifted the foil to peek inside, his mouth watering at the sight of a perfectly made shepherd's pie that you both would happily dig into later.

He finished sticking it in the fridge when you walked in the room, sleep still heavy on your features as you lazily shuffled closer.

“Morning, babe,” he greeted, softly, his eyes scanning over you for any signs of injury or trauma that had maybe been missed the night before.

“What’s that?” you asked, pointing toward the fridge.

Pete held up the note, leafing it between his long fingers. “Mrs. Platt. Shepherd’s pie.”

Your eyebrows rose up on your forehead in surprise. “Wow. That was really kind of her.”

“It was,” Pete agreed, walking over to you slowly where he landed his hands on your hips and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “How are you feeling?”

You hummed, assessing how you felt both physically and mentally. “Okay, I reckon.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I don’t even think I woke up once last night, shockingly.”

“That’s good,” he nodded, wrapping his arms around your shoulders to pull you against his bare chest. “I’m gonna meet the boys for some beers in a bit, but I won’t go if you don’t wanna be on your own,” he offered, speaking into your hair.

Your fingers moved on his back as you considered asking him to stay, but decided better of it.

“No, I’ll be fine,” you promised, pulling your head back to look at him. “Clair and Fi are popping by for a visit.”

He smiled and ran his hands down your hair to your cheeks. “Perfect.”

The guilt he felt for being there stung more than his knuckles did, but he did his best to swallow it down and worry about it later, turning his torn hands over as he reclined further in the old chair with a creak.

He recrossed his feet on top of the desk with a wince, his leg still bugging him and giving another reminder of all the justified reasons he was sitting there, and kicked over the coffee mug with the Millwall F.C. crest on it in the process.

A framed photo of Tommy Jr. sat beside the computer and Pete found he couldn’t look away from it; that little lad the reason all of this had started in the first place and refused to stop after all these years.

He remained where he was even when he heard the chime on the door ring as it opened, Tommy’s footsteps heavy but unsuspecting as he walked through his garage to his office like any other day.

“‘Ello, Tommy,” Pete greeted flatly, putting the bottle of beer he helped himself to out of Tommy’s stash to his lips to neck the rest of it.

Tommy paused and quickly assessed the room before speaking. “Made yourself at home, did we?”

He walked in and threw the newspaper he was holding on the desk beside Pete’s feet, staring his enemy down with amusement.

“Yeah, thanks for the beer.”

Tommy shook his head as Pete flashed him a fake grin. “And how the fuck did you manage to get in here?”

Pete rocked in the chair as his smile grew, his interlaced hands forming a point with his two index fingers that he directed behind Tommy. “Your good man Martin let me in.”

Tommy pivoted on the spot, following Pete’s guidance to where he noticed Martin laying in a heap on the greasy floor behind a car he had been working on, unconscious.

“I reckon he’ll come round in a bit,” Pete smiled, clicking his cheek with suggested doubt, knowing he beat him up pretty badly.

By the time Tommy turned back to face him, Pete stood up and threw the chair into the wall behind him, his nonchalance switched to anger as he closed the space between them, grabbing Tommy by the collar and shoving him back into the filing cabinets behind him just as he had done to you.

“You listen to me, Tommy,” he spat, his forearm pressing against his windpipe with so much force that Tommy was already gasping. “If you so much as breathe near my family again, I’ll rip your fucking throat out.”

Tommy made to grab at Pete, only to buckle when Pete drove his knee into his crotch, but forced him to stay upright with his arm still locked on his throat.

“This shit all ends here, you understand me?”

Tommy closed his eyes, making Pete’s blood boil even more, slamming him into the handle that was digging into his back harder.

“Look at me, you fucking cunt!” Pete yelled through gritted teeth, tightening his hold on him so that when Tommy did open his eyes, they were bloodshot and bleary.

“Don’t you ever go round threatening anyone I love again, or you know what I’ll do to you.”

When Tommy nodded as much as he was able to, Pete released his arm from his neck, still clasping the collar of his shirt where he smoothed it out before patting the side of his cheek.

Just as Tommy appeared to relax, Pete headbutted him as hard as he could, sending him crashing into the cabinets again as he went unconscious and crumbled to the floor.

Pete licked his lips and then spit on him before strutting out of the office, popping the collar of his coat up as he stepped over Martin and made his way out of the garage.

All the parking spots in front of the Abbey were taken, forcing Pete to leave his car further down Braemar Road and walk in the fresh air, the busyness of the pub on a Saturday afternoon something he was usually excited about, but it felt different today.

He debated just going home, wanting nothing more than to be with you after all that had transpired in the last two days, but figured he would go and have a pint like he had told you he was doing so it wasn’t a complete lie.

Pete stalked toward the back corner, seeing the lads all sat in their usual spots at one half of the table, his view of the other side of it blocked by people crowded around the bar.

The second he was able to see the rest of it, he stopped in his tracks, the sight of you sitting in his chair making his heart plummet into his gut.

Dave gave him a sympathetic look as he approached, and finally braced himself to meet your eyes, puffing out his cheeks with a long exhale, his hands that were shoved in his pockets extending out as if admitting he fucked up.

“Beers with the boys, eh?” you quietly accused, your tone even and making Pete question whether or not you were livid or upset.

“Listen-”

“No, Pete! You lied to me!” you rushed out, but quiet enough to not cause a scene. “Where the hell have you been?”

He sighed and set his jaw, glancing off to the side as he tried to think of how to explain himself, but you beat him to it.

“I don't wanna row with you here–”

“You went and confronted him, didn’t you?” you whispered, your disbelief clear, seeing his bloody knuckles when he peeled them from his pockets and rubbed his hands over his hair. “And more by the looks of it!”

“What did you expect me to do?” he countered, grabbing the back of a chair from a nearby table and spinning it so he could sit. “I’m not gonna let a piece of shit like Tommy fucking Hatcher get away with what he did to you.”

“Jesus Christ, Pete,” you muttered, shaking your head as you tried to stave off tears. “What exactly did you do? I told you not to – you promised!” you spilled out, your panic rising with each word.

He reached for your hands that you brought to cover your face, pulling them away gently and holding them in his own, smoothing his thumbs over your knuckles while he leaned forward to try to get you to meet his eyes.

“I barely touched him…he won’t be bothering you or anyone again. I’ll die before I let anything happen to you.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

You tugged your hand from his and roughly wiped your tears, your emotions quickly changing and switching to be more angry, the way you felt now seeming a hundred times worse than yesterday.

“Babe, come on,” he pleaded, still holding your other hand even as you stood from your chair and tried to move past him. “I had to do it– I can’t just sit back and let him win–”

“How honourable of you,” you chided, not looking at him while managing to free your hand.

He sighed, his anger getting the better of him as he let out a short laugh with his breath. “You have no fucking clue about any of this!”

“No?” you spat back, your tears falling as quickly as your frustration was rising. “I guess I don't, Pete, but what I do know is that every day I think of how I almost never had the chance to know you, let alone love you, and I’ll do anything I can to keep that safe. I can’t lose you now. So please forgive me for thinking what we have is bigger than your flaming reputation with your fucking firm.”

You made your way out of the pub, needing to get some fresh air and collect yourself for a moment, Clair and Fi following behind.

“Fuck!” Pete yelled, slamming his fist on the table to make all the pint glasses jump.

“So what exactly did happen?” Dave asked, scooting down the bench so he could hear Pete better over the chatter of the rest of the boys.

“Nothing totally incriminating,” he smirked. “Roughed up Martin pretty good and just told Tommy if he doesn’t stay away that I will actually kill him.”

As Dave was about to agree, Bovver piped up from the other end of the table.

“That’s what should’ve been done in the first place.”

“That so, Bov?”

“Yeah. And that’s what we should be doing now, not giving empty threats just ‘cause your bird said so.”

Pete shook his head, his rage growing the longer he stared at the look on his mate’s face, wanting to do nothing more than smack it right off of him.

“Stay out of it, Bov.”

Bovver stood abruptly, the table jostling as he did, knocking over some glasses in the process. “You just keep proving what a bottle job you are. Another pathetic stand taken by the GSE.”

Pete flew out of his chair and lunged, doing his best to grab at Bovver who was doing the same, but Dave and Swill held Pete back while Keith and Ike struggled to stop Bovver, the two of them shouting at each other so loudly that everyone else in the pub stopped what they were doing to watch.

“Leave it, leave it,” Dave warned, his hands still on Pete to prevent him from making another attempt.

Everyone managed to keep their emotions together for the rest of the afternoon, the boys keeping Pete and Bovver a safe distance apart and a constant flow of beer to maintain some peace while you and the girls rejoined everyone at the table, though you and Pete still weren’t talking.

He was playing darts with Dave and Ike, but giving you looks out of the corner of his eye every opportunity he had, the tension making you feel ill.

Pete twirled the dart in his fingers before throwing it at the board on the wall with force, the thud of it somehow loud compared to everything else, his accuracy and power making you jump. Nodding at the praise for his aim from the lads, he turned and grabbed his pint, chugging the rest of it before setting it down and walking over to you, his eye contact cold but familiar all at once and kept you frozen in your spot.

He stood over you, his scent and warmth swarming and filling a space in you that had felt empty since first finding out he lied about his whereabouts, and you closed your eyes as he brought his hand to the side of your cheek where he rubbed it gently with his thumb.

“Do you hate me?”

You shook your head side to side slightly, and when you opened your eyes to look up at him, the tears that had quickly welled up spilled down your face.

“I don’t think that could ever be possible no matter how hard I tried.”

The corner of Pete’s mouth turned up in a soft smile, and he leaned down to press his lips against your forehead, taking a deep inhale as he did.

“I’m sorry.”

You placed your hand around his wrist to pull him down into the seat across from you, seeing the genuinity in his blue eyes as they came level with yours.

“You should be.”

He let out a small laugh, “I’m just trying to do what I think is best. This life is all I know.”

“I know. And I always promised I would never try to change that but…” You stalled, taking a deep breath to try to fight off more emotion from showing through. “I can’t imagine living my life without having loved you, Pete, and that man almost made that happen. When what we have is being threatened in any way I–”

“Hey, it’s alright, love,” he soothed, leaning his forehead against yours while he gathered your hands in his. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He kissed you gently, the taste of beer transferring to your lips, making you crave more.

“Let’s go home, yeah?”

The last of his thrusts slowed, your mouths continuing to move on each other until everything else on you had stopped, the soft, passionate sex you just had making you feel dizzy and complete and able to forget the stress from everything that had happened.

“I love you, babe,” Pete whispered, nudging his nose against your cheek.

“I love you too, Pete.”

He kissed you one more time before rolling off of you, stretching his arm up behind him to open the window that his bed was under, letting in the biting, night air.

You faked a shiver and cuddled closer to him, smiling when he immediately wrapped his arms around you to allow you to lay your head on his chest, his skin dewy and impossibly warm.

“Mmm, c’mere love,” he said lazily, squeezing you tighter so your cheek pressed into the West Ham crest over his heart.

“How d’you feel?” he asked after a minute, the question making you close your eyes to really assess yourself.

“Hmm…good. Yeah, really good.”

“That’s just from the sex,” he chuckled, and you giggled and squirmed against him.

“Well yeah,” you agreed, slipping your leg between his and nuzzling your face into his neck. “But I do feel good aside from that, too.”

“Good. ‘Cause I was thinking…” he trailed off, linking his hand with yours to run his fingers up and down between yours.

“Hmm?” you prompted, feeling so relaxed you could drift off but curious at the same time.

Pete shifted slightly so he could see you better, the sweet smile on his lips meeting his eyes, the way he was looking at you making your heart soar.

“I want you to move in with me.”

A smile automatically stretched out your lips, and your heart beat to the same tempo it had when you first met Pete, first kissed Pete, first knew you loved Pete, and you knew that living with him would bring that same feeling time and time again.

“Really? Yes! God, yes!” you stammered, your disbelief clear in your words.

“Yeah?”

“Yes!”

Pete kissed you through both your smiles, rubbing his hand on the side of your head.

“Brilliant. I know it’s just a bloody council estate flat but I love having you here with me and I promise I’ll get a better place for us one day, yeah?”

“I don’t need anything else, Pete.”

He laughed somewhat exaggeratedly. “Come off it! You think I want to be stuck here forever? This place is a tip.”

“But it’s yours… and now it’ll be ours.”

You propped yourself up on your elbow, dancing your fingers along his chest. “I love it here. It’s you. All your things and records and books. I’d be happy here forever.”

Pete laughed again, the sweet sound of it drowning out the sounds of the street only slightly.

“I’m being serious! It doesn’t matter where it is, you’re my home.”

His smile faded as he looked you over as you hovered above him. “You’re far too good for me, you know that?”

“Am I?”

“Are you looking for me to list all the reasons?”

You shrugged and giggled when he grabbed your side, rolling onto your back where he moved to lay on top of you.

“Well to start you’ve forgiven me for going to see Tommy today.”

“Have I?”

Pete sighed and dropped his head.

“Just don’t do it again, Pete. Please.”

He sighed again, “Babe, you know if he comes near you again–”

You cupped his cheek, rubbing your thumb against the scruff that had been growing in the days since he last shaved.

“I know. But there’s a chance that if he does, I’ll be the one to kill him first.”

Pete smiled, the grin enhancing the creases on the side of his mouth.

“That’s my girl.”

He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours, stealing your breath as it hinted at a promise of more and made your heart flutter and your core ache.

“I’ll make a hooligan of you yet,” he winked, diving back to capture your lips again.

Nearly a month had passed since officially moving in and it seemed like every day got better than the last, but one thing was on Pete’s mind constantly.

“Fuck me, how much did you pay for it?”

Dave chuckled. “Three months salary. That’s the ‘rule’,” he explained, making quotation marks with his fingers.

“Yeah, and your salary to boot. I’ll be able to get one out of a bloody sweets machine on my wages for Christ’s sake.”

Dave shrugged as Pete took a drink of his pint. “You don’t need to spend that much, mate. It’s not what it’s about.”

“Yeah, I know,” Pete said solemnly after swallowing. “I just want to do it sooner rather than later, ya know? But right now it’s not in the cards. I can’t afford it.”

“Can you borrow off someone? What about Steve?”

Pete shot him a sideways glance. “Absolutely the fuck not.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to help you out here!”

“No, I know, and believe me I actually did consider it but fuck, that’s almost embarrassing innit? Borrowing cash off your older bruv to pay for an engagement ring. ‘T’s not happening.”

“Well, Pete, she’s not going anywhere, and a ring isn’t gonna change that.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll just start saving all my coins.”

Dave clapped him on his shoulder, “Good man, that’s it.”

“So that means you’ve got the next shout then, yeah?” Pete laughed, leaning back in his chair.

“Yes, Mum!” Pete laughed, holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder while he worked on fixing dinner, having been on the phone with her for over half an hour now and needing to carry on with his evening, knowing she would gab away for as long as possible.

“No, I’ll talk to her tonight about it, yeah – no I know it’s been a while – I really want you to meet her, too...”

You walked in the door, calling out a ‘hello’ as you dropped your bag on the table and hung up your jacket, about to say something else until you noticed he was on the phone.

Pete mouthed the word ‘mum’ and pointed at the phone, giving his head a slight shake as he started to laugh again.

“Right, yeah – okay, Mum, yeah, I’ll let you know as soon as we figure something out. Yeah, love you too. Bye, bye.”

He hung up with a sigh, setting his cell phone down on the counter before walking over to greet you.

“Hiya, gorgeous,” he grinned, leaning in for a kiss where he moaned into your mouth.

“How was your day?” you asked, somewhat breathless when he eventually pulled away.

“Good, yeah, good. How was yours?”

“Hmm, long, but fine enough. Happy to be home.” You smiled and bit your lip, finding it hard to believe that you still weren’t over living with him. “I still feel like I need a pinch every time I say that.”

Pete smiled too, reaching to hold your face in his hands as he looked at you fondly. “I need a pinch too, knowing you’re mine…”

You kissed him, still smiling when you pulled away. “So how is your mum?”

“Good, although she gave me shit for not seeing her for so long. That being said…” he sang, walking back into the kitchen to continue making dinner. “She’s invited us round for a visit. She really wants to meet ya.”

He smiled proudly at you as he watched your face light up at the prospect of meeting his mother, knowing how well the two of you would get on and excited to show you off to her, the buzz he got from having you as his girlfriend never getting old.

“So when are we going?” you inquired, stepping into the kitchen behind him where you filled the kettle.

“I was thinking in a couple weeks, I can get the time away from work no problem…figured that would be enough notice for you?”

You agreed, part of you wishing it could be sooner, the thought of going away with Pete to the Lake District where she lived seeming so inviting right now.

Opening the tin where the tea bags were kept and noticing it was empty, you started pulling open cupboards in search of a fresh box, coming up empty-handed.

“Oh, sorry, I went to the shop after work and got some more,” Pete answered your unspoken question, pointing to a bag hanging on one of the chairs with the knife he held in his hand.

You grabbed the box out, frowning when you saw it was a generic brand of tea and not the usual Yorkshire that you and Pete preferred.

“What’s with these?” you scowled with a smile, holding up the box.

“Uhh, yeah they were out of Yorkshire. I know,” he waved his hand and shook his head like he was disappointed as well.

“That’s odd, and surely a crime,” you laughed. “I’ll go to another shop by my work tomorrow, they’ll have them.”

“Nah, it’s fine, we’ll drink those ones,” Pete offered nonchalantly, hoping you wouldn’t press it any further.

When you popped a couple of the bags into the pot, he went back to his task, knowing it was silly to be trying to save a few pounds by way of buying off-brand tea bags, but for you he was willing to do anything to be able to afford a ring worthy of being on your finger.

---

@stealfromthedevil @theesirenteller @inbar-thomas1980 @lilac13 @honeydewwboo

[vinnieswife]

if you write smuts, i beg, anything, whatever that comes to your mind with pete dunham. i love your writing!

Pete dunham x fem!reader

word count: 2.4k

warnings: smut! p in v, fingering, unprotected sex, wrap it before you tap it!

author’s note: YES, I do write them but I was in my soft era ig??? hope you like it :) Also english is not my first language, sorry for any mistake!

It’s a little past 9 PM when you hear the familiar sound of the key in the lock, followed by the door swinging open with a bang. Pete’s voice echoes through the shared apartment before you even see him.

“Love! You won’t bloody believe it!” he shouts, his voice bubbling with excitement.

You can’t help but smile to yourself, already knowing what this is about. West Ham had their match today, and from the sound of it, they’d won. You barely have time to put down your book before Pete bursts into the room, his face lit up with that boyish grin of his, cheeks flushed from the cold and pure adrenaline.

“We did it!” he exclaims, dropping his bag to the floor with a thud. “3–1, can you believe it? Bloody hell, what a game!”

Before you can even respond, he’s in front of you, grabbing your face with both hands and pulling you into a fierce, breathless kiss. His lips are warm and slightly chapped from the December air outside, but the way he kisses you—like he’s pouring every ounce of his excitement and energy into you—makes you forget everything else.

When he finally pulls back, he’s grinning at you, his nose brushing against yours. “You should’ve been there,” he says, his voice low and rough. “Best bloody match I’ve ever seen.”

You laugh, still a little dazed from the kiss. “I could hear you shouting at the telly before you left. I think the neighbors could too.”

“Let ’em hear,” he says with a smirk, his hands already sliding down to your waist, pulling you closer. “I’ll shout it from the rooftops if I have to. My team smashed it today, and now…” His lips find yours again, cutting off whatever else he was about to say.

This time, the kiss deepens, his hands tightening their hold on you as he presses you against his chest. His excitement is palpable, and it’s contagious; you can feel it in the way his fingers trail up your sides, in the urgency of his movements.

“Pete-” you manage to say, pulling back slightly to catch your breath, but he doesn’t let you go far. His blue eyes are blazing as he looks down at you, his grin softening into something more intimate.

“You’ve no idea how much I missed you today,” he murmurs, his voice rough and low. “You’re the only thing better than a West Ham win.”

The heat between you only builds from there, your laughter mixing with his low murmurs as he guides you toward the bedroom. Pete kicks the bedroom door shut behind him, not wanting anything to interrupt the intimate moment he has planned. He takes a moment to drink in the sight of you, his eyes roaming over your body appreciatively. "Fuck, you're so beautiful," he murmurs, reaching out to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

He leans in, capturing your lips in a slow, sensual kiss. It's a kiss filled with love, with longing, with all the pent-up emotion from being apart for the day. His lips move against yours with a tender intensity, his tongue stroking yours with a sensual rhythm.

Pete's hands start to explore your body, sliding under your (his) shirt to caress the soft skin beneath. He maps out the curves of your waist, the dip of your lower back, the swell of your hips.

He breaks the kiss to trail his lips down the column of your throat, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the racing pulse he finds there.

Pete smirks against your skin, feeling your body tremble beneath his touch. He pulls back just enough to look at you, his blue eyes dark and intense as they meet yours. “You are so fucking gorgeous," he murmurs, his voice a low, seductive rumble.

He starts to undress you with deliberate slowness, his fingers brushing against your skin as he peels your clothes away. He takes his time, savoring the reveal of each new expanse of skin, his eyes drinking in the sight of you hungrily. He took off his shirt in a single movement, his hands moving to unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans, only leaving his boxers on, he walked you to the bed making you lay down as he settles between your thighs, his arms caging you.

His lips found yours in light speed, soft kisses that transformed into needy ones, both of your breaths ragged, his tongue caressing your lower lip asking for entrance, he gripped your hips making you gasp, using that as an excuse to explore your mouth, his kisses were rough but passionate. He broke the kiss with a soft gasp, his forehead resting against yours.

He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, a familiar heat pooling low in his belly as your fingers danced along the waistband of his boxers, playing with it. “Please Pete…”

Pete's eyes darkened with desire as he heard the needy plea in your voice. "Please, what, babe?" he asked, his voice a low, teasing rumble. "Tell me what you need." His hands slid up your sides, cupping your breasts through the fabric of your bra.

He leaned down to press hot, open-mouthed kisses to your collarbone, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin. "Do you need me to touch you?" he murmured, his fingers deftly unhooking the back of your bra. "Or maybe..." He pushed the straps down your shoulders, letting the garment fall away. "You need me to taste you?" His mouth drifted lower, his lips brushing over the swell of your breasts. He could feel your heart racing, your breath coming in soft, needy gasps. It spurred him on, urged him to touch you more.

He moved his hand between your thighs, his fingers brushing against your slick, heated flesh. "Fuck love, you're so wet," he groaned, feeling your arousal coating his fingers. He circled your clit with the pads of his fingers, teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves. "All this, just for me?" His other hand slid up your side, cupping your waist.

He slowly eased a finger inside you, groaning at the tight, wet heat that enveloped him. "bloody ‘ell," he murmured, starting to pump his finger in and out, shallow thrusts that gradually deepened. He could feel your walls fluttering around the intrusion, drawing him in deeper. His thumb found your clit, rubbing firm circles over the sensitive nub as he added a second finger, stretching you open. You moaned grabbing his shoulder, crescent moon shapes adorning his skin. A soft red tint painted your and his cheeks, the passion warming up the room. He curled his fingers just right, stroking that perfect spot deep inside that made your toes curl.

His thumb rubbed firm, quick circles over your clit. He groaned, his own arousal growing with each needy sound that fell from your lips. He could feel himself getting harder, his cock straining against the confines of his boxers. He leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your soft cries of pleasure. His tongue delved into your mouth, tangling with yours. He could feel your body starting to tense, your walls beginning to flutter around his fingers.

"Come for me, love," he encouraged, his voice a low, urgent growl against your lips. "Are you gonna come apart in my fingers, mhm?" He rubbed your clit harder, faster, his fingers plunging deep and curling just right. Pete could feel your body tensing, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps against his lips. "Yes, that's it... come on," he urged, his fingers moving faster, determined to bring you to that peak of ecstasy.

He could sense you were close, your walls starting to quiver and clench around his plunging fingers.“Pete… god” your nails scratched his back, marking him, as whimpers escaped your throat.

With a few more deep, targeted thrusts of his fingers and a particularly hard press against your clit, he felt your body go rigid. Your back arched off the bed, your head thrown back in a silent scream of rapture as your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave. He could feel your walls clamping down around his fingers as you came hard. He worked you through it, his fingers never stopping their relentless assault, drawing out your pleasure until you were boneless and spent. Pete gentled his touches, slowly easing you down from the intense high. "That's my girl," he murmured.

Your hand wandered down Pete’s chest caressing his skin with the tip of your fingers until you reached the waistband of his boxers, pulling it and making it smack against his skin, you saw his abs contract, his eyes closed as he grunted. “Are you enjoying this?” You teased, knowing how he would react. Finally your hand touched him where he needed it the most, you palmed him through the fabric of the boxers, his arms faltered as his hips jerk forward into your touch. "Fuck-," he groaned, his voice strained with need. The friction of your hand rubbing over his clothed length sent sparks of pleasure shooting up his spine. He knew he needed more.

His hand slid down to grip your hips, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh. You hooked your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and began to tug them down, he hissed as his aching cock sprang free, slapping against his stomach. Pete shuddered as your fingers wrapped around him, a low groan escaping his lips. "Oh fuck, yes..." he hissed, his hips rocking into your touch, seeking more of that perfect friction.

His hand slid down to grip your thighs, squeezing and kneading the soft skin as you stroked him. He watched through hooded eyes as you worked his length, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. He could feel the pleasure building with each pump of your fist, the heat pooling in his belly. He knew he wouldn't last long if you kept touching him like this. "I need to be inside you," he said, his voice low and urgent. He gently moved your hand away from him, he angled his tip towards your entrance,and with a swift, hard thrust, he buried himself inside you, hilting deep in your heat. “Fuck, love” he groaned, his eyes squeezing shut as your walls clenched around him like a vice. Your body felt incredibly hot despite the cold weather outside, he could make you feel like no one does, feeling his short breath in your name sent shivers down your spine, your hands found their home on his back, feeling his muscles tense and contract.

He paused for a moment, savoring the feeling of being fully sheathed inside you, peppering kisses down your neck and shoulder. Then, he began to move, pulling out slowly until just the tip remained inside, before slamming back in, burying himself to the hilt. He set a hard but slow pace, the bed creaking beneath you with the force of his thrusts.

He could feel the tension building at the base of his spine. He wanted to feel you come first, wanted to make this amazing for you. "Come on, darlin’," he encouraged, his voice a low, urgent growl. His hand snaked between your bodies, finding your clit, rubbing calculated and tight circles, determined to push you over the edge. His hands did wonders on you, the circles on your clit, his pants of your name in your ear, the way is cock nudged at your sweet spot perfectly.

Your body was tensing, your walls starting to flutter and clench around his pistoning cock. He could feel his own release barreling towards him, he shifted the angle of his hips, making sure to hit that sweet spot deep inside with every powerful thrust. "I'm so close, I can't..." he panted, his breath hot against your ear. “Fuck Pete, right there…” your eyes were shut, the pleasure to much to bear it.

With a sharp cry of you his name, your body went rigid beneath him as your orgasm crashed over you like a tsunami. Your velvet walls clamped down around his pistoning cock, gripping and fluttering as you came. Your nails leaving red trails on his back. The sensation was too much for him to withstand, and with a hoarse groan of your name, he followed you over the edge.

Pete's hips jerked and stuttered as he buried himself to the hilt inside your spasming heat, his cock pulsing and throbbing as he spilled himself deep within you. His body shuddered above you as the intense pleasure consumed him, you could feel the muscles on his back tense, your name falling from his lips in a litany of bliss.

Finally, with a last weak groan, he collapsed against you, his weight pressing you into the mattress. He panted harshly against your neck, his skin slick with sweat, his heart racing in his chest. You two lay there trying to catch your breaths. “If this is what i get, the West Ham should win more often,” you giggled caressing pete’s short hair, you could feel him giggle in your ear, before leaning in to kiss you again. This time, it was slower, more deliberate, as if he wanted to savor the moment.

You sighed contentedly, your hands sliding down to rest on his shoulders. “Pete,” you whispered, feeling his lips curl into a smile against yours.

“Hmm?” he hummed, his hands caressing your cheek lovingly.

“I love you,” you saw his grin widen, as he attacked your face with kisses. “And I love you even more, love.”

As the evening stretched on, you couldn’t help but marvel at how the simplest things—like a stupid West Ham victory—could bring so much joy. His happiness is infectious, and tonight, you don’t mind letting him show you just how much he’s celebrating.

[zinedehautor]

Hooligans

[daisycuttter]

there are many great films about hooliganism:

-Green Street Hooligans (2005)

-Okolofutbola (2013)

-The Firm (2009)

And then there is Red Army Hooligans (2018)

[lehoeing]

Bovver Collection

[9yrexx]

[mrs-goodlifeee]

Green street Hooligans

[she-wolf09231982]

So our boy, Ross, having 38k+ followers on Instagram selected a few hundred of his followers to do an exclusive Q&A chat and I was one of the lucky ones to get chosen. 👇🏼

My question: “Would you consider visiting stateside & deployed military bases?”

I’ll let you know if he answers. Perhaps I’m biased asking that specific question because I am military, but maybe it’s my in to finally meet him if he says yes 🤷‍♀️

[skellabelle]

some non-pacific rim Charlie Hunnam for my lovely moot @laurfilijames

[dallevo68]

England hooligans

[laurfilijames]

My very dear friend and fellow GSE wife @stealfromthedevil made me this and I couldn't keep it to myself 😍

I miss Pete so much 😩💗

[vinnieswife]

The look of love

Pete dunham x reader

word count: 1k

The pub was lively, packed with laughter, loud chatter, and the clinking of pint glasses. Pete was off in the corner, deep in conversation with a few of the boys from the firm. Every so often, his eyes flicked toward you where you sat at the bar, and he gave you one of those small, almost shy smiles that made your heart flip.

You were nursing your drink when Dave slid onto the stool next to you. He had that easy grin on his face, the kind he always wore when he was about to say something cheeky.

“Alright there?” he asked, nodding toward your glass.

“Alright,” you replied, matching his grin. “Enjoying the night?”

He shrugged, taking a swig of his beer before leaning a little closer, lowering his voice like he was letting you in on a secret. “You know, Pete doesn’t shut up about you.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?” You felt your cheeks heating up, but Dave wasn’t finished.

“And don’t even get me started on the way he looks at you.”

You frowned, confused. “The way he looks at me?”

Dave leaned back, gesturing toward Pete, who was mid-laugh with the group in the corner. “Yeah, the look. You know the one. The ‘look of love,’ or whatever you want to call it. Like you hung the bloody moon. We all see it. He’ll be talking, then glance over at you, and boom—there it is. The soft eyes, the little smile. It’s sickening, really.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the teasing tone, though your heart was fluttering in your chest. “Bollocks.”

“nah,” Dave insisted, grinning wider. “Ask any of the lads.“

The pub buzzed around you as Dave chuckled at your flustered reaction, clearly enjoying himself. Before you could respond, another familiar voice joined the conversation, Swill, pint in hand, sliding into the stool on your other side with a grin as wide as the Thames.

“What’s this, then?” Swill asked, looking between you and Dave. “You two plotting something?”

“Not plotting,” Dave said, tilting his pint toward Swill. “Just telling her how our Pete’s completely whipped.”

Swill’s eyebrows shot up, and then he barked out a laugh. “Oh, here we go. You finally let her in on it, did you?”

You frowned, glancing between the two of them. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Swill said, leaning closer like he was about to reveal a grand secret, “that our fearless leader over there doesn’t shut up about you. Ever.”

Dave nodded, smirking. “Told you.”

Swill clapped a hand on Dave’s shoulder. “No, no, you didn’t do it justice, mate. It’s not just that he talks about her—it’s how he talks about her. Like she’s God’s gift to the bloody planet.”

You could feel the blush creeping up your cheeks, but Swill was just getting started.

“Seriously, darlin,” he continued, motioning toward Pete, who was still chatting with a few lads by the dartboard. “You wouldn’t believe it unless you heard it yourself. We’ll be in the middle of a story, right? Something about a match or a scrap, proper good stuff. And then Pete? He just drops some random bit about you. Like, ‘Oh, you should’ve seen what she said the other day,’ or, ‘She’s been working hard, proud of her.’”

Dave snorted into his drink. “Don’t forget the time he went on for ten minutes about how you like your tea. Ten minutes, Swill.”

“Ah, that was a good one,” Swill said, laughing. “Bloke had to stop and think about whether he mentioned the sugar.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, despite how warm your face was getting. “You’re exaggerating,” you said, though you weren’t entirely sure you believed it.

“We’re not,” Dave said, leaning on the bar. “He’s completely different with you. You make him… I dunno, softer? Happier? It’s like he’s actually letting himself enjoy life a bit more.”

Swill nodded, his grin softening just slightly. “He’s always been our fearless leader, you know? Strong, confident, keeps the lads in line. But with you, he lets his guard down. We’ve never seen him like this. It’s good. You’re good for him.”

You glanced over at Pete, your heart swelling at the sight of him. He was laughing now, gesturing animatedly as he told some story to the group. Like he felt your gaze, he looked over, catching your eye. His face lit up instantly, that easy, genuine smile spreading across his lips as he gave you the kind of look that made the rest of the world disappear.

Swill jabbed Dave with his elbow, nodding toward Pete. “There it is, Dave. The look.”

Dave raised his pint, chuckling. “Told you, didn’t I?”

You shook your head, laughing despite yourself. “You lot are ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” Swill said, taking a swig of his beer. “But we’re not wrong. That man’s gone for you, love. Completely.”

Before you could respond, Pete made his way over, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets and a curious look on his face. “What are you three plotting?” he asked, glancing between you, Dave, and Swill.

“Nothing,” Dave said quickly, a little too quickly, which only made Pete narrow his eyes.

“Just telling her how you’re a lovesick puppy,” Swill added with a grin, earning a glare from Pete.

Pete rolled his eyes, though the faint blush creeping up his neck betrayed him. “Tossers,” he muttered, shaking his head before turning to you. His gaze softened, that small, lopsided smile tugging at his lips. “Don’t listen to them. They talk rubbish.”

You reached out, brushing your fingers against his arm. “Oh, I don’t know. Some of it might’ve been nice to hear.”

Pete’s blush deepened, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he leaned in closer, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “Yeah, well, they’re not wrong. Not about you, anyway.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and as Pete slipped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close, Swill and Dave exchanged knowing looks.

“Told ya,” Dave muttered to Swill, raising his pint.

“Told me?” Swill replied, grinning. “I’m the one who told you.”

[casual-american]

Done by me

[daisycuttter]

if I had a nickel for every time I fell in love with a slightly violent West Ham United fan I would have two nickels, which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice.

[cemyafilmarsiv]

Green Street Hooligans directed by Lexi Alexander