#pete dunham x reader

[vinnieswife]

Patching him after a fight.

Pete Dunham x reader

words: 680

author’s note: How much I love this prompt omg!

It’s well past midnight when you hear the familiar sound of heavy boots on the stairs, slow, deliberate, like each step costs him something. You’re already waiting by the door, nerves twisting in your chest, a first-aid kit sitting on the small kitchen table of his apartment.

When the soft knock finally comes, you’re quick to put your hand on the doorknob, unlocking the door and pulling it open.

Pete stands in the dimly lit hallway, looking exactly how you feared he might, his face bruised, blood trickling from a split lip, and his knuckles torn and raw. His favorite jacket hangs loose from one shoulder, stained with dirt and some blood r.

“Hey, love,” he says with a faint, lopsided grin, trying to play it cool like always. His voice is rough, worn from shouting or maybe just exhaustion after the fight. You can’t help but sigh, both relieved and frustrated. “Jesus Christ, Pete.”

You move,and he steps inside, letting the door close behind him, his body sagging slightly now that he feels safe. He winces when he moves, confirming what you already suspected, he’s hurting more than he shows.

“’S not as bad as it looks, I promise,” he mumbles, but his eyes soften when he sees the worry etched across your face. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t. I was waiting for you.” You guide him towards the worn out couch, helping him sit down carefully. He doesn’t resist,too tired and too sore to protest.

You grab the first-aid kit and sit on the small coffee table in front of him, your fingers already reaching for his bloodied hands. His knuckles are bruised and swollen, skin split. He watches you quietly as you clean the cuts with gentle, practiced hands, his breath hitching when the peroxide stings. “Hold still,” you murmur, as if he’s about to bolt.

“Ain’t used to someone fussin’ over me,” he says softly, almost amused. His lips twitch into a faint smirk, but there’s something tender in his gaze, something vulnerable he can’t quite hide.

“Maybe someone should,” you counter, wrapping a clean bandage around his hand with careful precision. “You’re not invincible, Pete.” He huffs a quiet laugh, letting you continue your work in silence. You tilt his chin up next, inspecting the gash above his eyebrow. It’s shallow, but it’s still bleeding a little. He watches you closely as you dab at it with a damp cloth, his eyes never leaving your face.

“Did you win?” you ask after a moment, breaking the comfortable silence, trying to sound casual.

“Course we did,” he says with that trademark cockiness, but his voice is softer, almost like he’s trying to reassure you. “Not a scratch on the boys.” You roll your eyes but can’t help the sense of pride warming your chest. “Idiot.”

His hand suddenly covers yours, stilling your careful movements. His fingers are rough, calloused, but his touch is warm, grounding. “I’m alright,” he says quietly, as if sensing the storm of worry still swirling inside you. “I swear.”

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat, and press a soft kiss to his bruised knuckles, how could the same hands that fight so fiercely, hold you so gently. His breath hitches again, “Come here,” he murmurs, tugging you up and into his lap despite his injuries. His arms wrap around you, pulling you close, as if holding you is the only thing keeping him anchored.

For a long moment, you just sit there, your hands resting against his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your fingertips. His grip tightens like he’s afraid you might slip away, even though you’re right there, safe and solid in his arms. You grab the damp cloth cleaning the blood on his lip, also cleaning the trail of blood down his neck. “I hate seeing you like this,” you whisper.

“I know.” His moves closer as his lips brushed against your temple. “But you’re here. That’s what matters.”

And in the quiet of your small apartment, bruised and sore but still standing, he found peace.

[laurfilijames]

Like My Dreams

Part 5

Intro Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Pairing: Pete Dunham x female reader

Words: 9.9k

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Swearing. Alcohol consumption. Unprotected intercourse. Sex in a public place. Blood, cuts and bruises. Dressing of wounds. Cockwarming. Mention of stab wound and life-threatening injuries. Assault. Threat of rape.

Summary: Right when you and Pete seal the deal on your relationship, more car trouble and a visit from an ex stirs up drama and pops the blissful bubble you waited so long for.

A/N: 😅 this chapter really got away from me but I had the best time writing it!! I had an idea for part of it and pitched it to the wonderfully supportive @ramadiiiisme who encouraged me to go for it and helped me pull it off, so big thanks to you a million times more 💗 The scene with Mrs. Platt was inspired by a conversation with @stealfromthedevil about her dear grandmother who's cheeky words are included in the dialogue 💗💗

The linked song is one I've been listening to non-stop while writing this chapter and is just so lovely and fits in with all the fluffy bits of not only this chapter, but this series as a whole.

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It had been a couple of hours since Pete had gone home to shower and clean up after the friendly game with the lads, now sitting in his favourite seat at their table watching the Hammers struggle to get a lead against Chelsea, the match currently tied at 1-1. He would normally care a bit more about it, but knowing you were on your way to meet him there had taken all his focus and energy, feeling more excited to see you than bothered that his team might end the game in a draw, or worse.

He slouched against the old chair with his arm over the back, taking a long sip of his beer before setting it back down and licking his lips.

“Oh, come on! Fucking unbelievable!” he muttered at the screen, the referee pulling an outrageous call against West Ham.

Whatever happened next in the game no longer mattered to him all that much, seeing you walk in the door and through the crowd of people standing between you, his smile growing as he watched you tug your scarf out from around your neck and head over to the bar where you stopped to say hello to Terry and order a drink.

Pete stood and walked over slowly, admiring you from across the room as you chatted with Terry for a moment, your smile making his heart nearly stop when you turned and directed it at him as he reached you.

He said nothing, his grin too large to control any words to come through it, instead opting for a greeting he had been waiting all night to give.

Grabbing your cheeks, he leaned in and kissed you, inhaling with a low moan as he felt you melt into him and release your breath, your hands landing limply on his biceps.

A few people cheered around you, making both of you smile again after you parted from each other, but the need to get you alone was quickly becoming a priority in the realization of how many people were preventing him from doing all the things he wanted to do right then and there.

“Hi, love,” he said warmly, the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes making desire stir inside you.

“Hi,” you sighed with a love-drunk smile, the single word a breathy whisper.

Pete bit his lip as he reached for both of your drinks off the bar, nodding in the direction of their table in the corner.

“Come on, gorgeous, we’re over here.”

You were greeted warmly as usual, the spirits of everyone high after the Hammers scored a goal, and with all members of the GSE and their respective partners present to watch the match, little room was available at the booth.

Ned and Ike shifted over to make a spot for you beside Clair and Dave, leaving a space that was too large for your liking between you and where Pete sat in his designated chair, his hands folded together with his elbows resting on the arms of it as he looked fondly at you mixed in with his favourite people.

As much as you loved being at The Abbey enjoying conversations that made your cheeks and stomach hurt from laughing so much, the company that Pete kept people you now couldn’t imagine your life without, it was difficult for you to focus tonight, your mind constantly wandering to how the night was going to turn out just as much as your eyes continued to find Pete’s automatically.

It was like he knew everything you were thinking, his blue eyes glowing with a telling want and his looks loaded with insinuation, every swipe of his tongue over his lips or the way he rolled the toothpick that hung out of his mouth teasing you and driving you mad.

You squirmed in your seat, your fingers toying with the soggy coaster that had been spilled on too many times, forcing yourself to peel your eyes away from him whenever you felt the heat inside you becoming too much, only to steal another glance a moment later, finding him still looking at you hungrily.

The game was coming to an end, and with the Hammers still holding onto their lead, Pete was more than happy to miss the rest of it in exchange for seeing something he had wanted to all day, and as you slowly trailed your hand down your neck to your chest before reaching for the drink you had nursed most of the night, he knew he couldn’t wait any longer.

Waiting for you to glance over at him again, he watched you intently, imagining your bare form beneath him, pressing his lips against every single inch of you.

Finally, you met his gaze, a sultry look weighing in your eyes, and with a subtle nod toward the door, Pete silently told you it was time to go.

You smiled almost sheepishly, your face seeming to glow in a mix of embarrassment and excitement as you rushed through your goodbyes, your friends all shouting teasing jeers at you in knowing the reason behind your early exit.

Pete winked at you as he shrugged into his tan trench coat, adjusting the collar and tugging it up at the back so it covered his neck, flicking the toothpick he still had in his mouth onto the table.

He took your hand and lead you through the pub with a pride that didn’t go unnoticed by those you passed, finding yourself bashful in thinking that everyone knew what was about to happen based on the look on your face, having to bite your lip to stop yourself from grinning and cast your eyes down at the worn carpet as you made your way out.

The door hadn’t even shut behind you before Pete had you up against the brick wall, his hands holding your waist with a claiming grip as he leaned into you and kissed you breathless, his want for you inarguable.

“Let’s go home,” he said with surety, his smile lighting up his eyes when he stepped away from you, pulling you with him with his hand clasped around yours again confidently.

The walk to Pete’s wasn’t long, but was made longer tonight by how often the two of you stopped to kiss, unable to keep off of each other for the duration it took to land at his door.

There was thankfully no sign of Mrs. Platt hanging around to make comments, the time it took for Pete to fish out his keys and unlock the deadbolt incredibly delayed due to interrupting the process in favour of kissing, your bodies now pressing together more closely and your hands becoming bolder where they roamed.

Pete finally opened the door and walked through it, and after tossing his keys onto the table, turned to grin at you and take your hand, pulling you inside with him.

“Get in here,” he said through his smirk, the playful tone of his voice undisguisable despite how much lust showed in his eyes.

He brought you in against him, his lips teasing yours as he whispered, “I need you.”

You smoothed your hands up the back of his neck as you kissed him, melting when he moaned into your mouth as the sensation of your fingers raking through his hair made him desperate for more, the intensity of the kiss increasing quickly.

Within moments you stood naked in his room, holding each other close while playful kisses were shared and hands began their worship, the excitement and anticipation that had slowly built up to this moment stirring within you.

It was clear that Pete felt the same, his smile unable to be wiped from his face each time you parted to look at each other, and as he moved closer to the bed with you, he tucked his bottom lip in his teeth to try to restrict it.

You sat on the mattress, leaning back on your elbows where he followed closely, crawling over you as you fully laid down in his bedding that lingered with the scents of him and you. His smile turned into a sweet chuckle as you giggled too, having him settle between your legs and laying on top of you making you feel unbelievably elated, the sensation of his readied cock resting against your core solidifying the fact that you couldn’t possibly wait another night.

His expression turned serious for a moment as he peered down at you, a soft groan coming out of his mouth as his cock rubbed against you when he shifted slightly.

“You sure you’re ready?” he asked, his voice somewhat shaky with restraint.

You nodded, and spoke with as much certainty as you could have in a moment where you felt on the border of being totally consumed by lust and longing, “Fuck me, Pete.”

He didn’t hesitate, pushing into you with a confident drive of his hips, your head tilting back as you cried out, the stretch of him filling you bare without a doubt the best thing you had ever felt.

Together, you quickly found a pace that suited you both, his thrusts slow and rolling but purposeful, his kisses growing more desperate on the skin of your neck and chest as each minute ticked on.

It took hardly any time at all for your climax to fire up within you, the anticipation of sex with Pete having let the intensity of it lay in dormancy right under the surface only to bring it forth faster than ever, his body linked with yours igniting and awakening every part of you.

You clawed at his back in a signal of your oncoming pleasure as well as a silent plea for more, half of you wanting to experience it immediately while the other half begged to prolong it all.

Clenching around his cock, you couldn’t ward it off any longer, moaning into his mouth as he continued to slam into you in a tempo that sent you to the edge but you could tell was beginning to falter as his climax took him in its clutches.

Your orgasm came through you hard and fast, shattering every inch of you as he followed right along with you, feeling him pulse and swell inside your walls, soaking him at the same time he filled you.

Pete kissed you almost frantically as he slowed his movements in you, savouring every second of being inside you while seemingly starving for more, your whines quieting out in his mouth as his breathing worked to calm to normal.

Emotion overcame him at the thought of never being able to experience this with you, the reality of him almost dying without ever having kissed you or touched you or loved you made his eyes burn, and closing them tight as he parted from your lips, he held your face in his hand and brought his forehead to rest against yours, his thumb moving to pull down your lower lip as you shared more laboured breaths.

You made love again and again through the night, resting between rounds only long enough to recharge, the addiction you had to each other increasing each time.

It was well after three in the morning when you had finally fallen asleep, exhaustion eventually taking over the nagging need for more, the cold comfort of the open window and your bodies wrapped together truly feeling like heaven.

The sound of rain and Pete stirring against you woke you up, making you scoot back against him to get closer to him, his arm that was wrapped around your waist tightening its hold and pulling you in.

He hummed in your hair, his body beginning to wake before his mind fully did, feeling him harden against your bum while his lips lazily kissed down the back of your neck.

A long moan sounded from you as you indulged in the blissful sensation, wriggling against him until his cock was firmly pressed between your cheeks, beginning to rock your hips languidly back and forth until his sleepy kisses turned to warning nips.

“Babe…” his sleepy voice purred in your ear, his lips pulling your lobe between them before his tongue swept along its shell.

“Pete…I need you.” His name fell from your lips in a whimper as your hand took hold of his and guided it between your legs, his fingertips gently stroking your clit until he had you begging for more.

Pete sat up and guided you onto all fours, positioning himself behind you where he gripped your cheeks with his hands to part them while he stroked your folds with the head of his cock.

Despite feeling how wet you were, he was aware how you would likely be sore from the amount of times he’d fucked you already, reaching over for the bottle of lube on the nightstand where he squeezed some out and coated his length until he hissed from the sensation of his own hand and slowly guided himself inside your tight walls.

He watched your hands grip the sheets as he filled you, your fingers relaxing slightly as he pulled back out, only to grip them harder and cry out when he pushed in again.

“Fuck, you take me so well,” he muttered, keeping a slow tempo even though he was tempted to quicken it and destroy you.

He heard your soft hum of appreciation for his praise over the pouring rain, everything you did adding up to drive him insane and make him fall more in love with you, suddenly feeling as if being buried inside you wasn’t enough to appease his heart.

Pete wrapped his arm around you so his hand splayed out over your stomach, applying pressure to guide you to sit up and onto his lap, careful to keep himself locked in your cunt.

Spreading the remaining lube onto your clit with his fingers, Pete began to steadily work you, his other hand holding you up while also squeezing and massaging your breasts, his mouth worshiping the space between your shoulder and ear in an intoxicating way that had your head lulling back onto his shoulder.

Goosebumps erupted over your skin as a brisk gust blew in through the window, adding to the over-stimulation that assaulted every part of you, doing your best to focus on the fullness of Pete driving inside you as you rocked yourself on his lap.

You reached your arm up and around his head, stroking his hair and gripping at him as you rode him, feeling yourself beginning to lose all control but placing all your trust in him to take care of you just how you needed.

Still holding you firmly against him, he continued to strum between your legs, knowing how close he was getting you from how you subtly tried to escape his grasp and your body convulsed to his touch, feeling your hands tighten on his head and forearm that was wrapped around you to keep you in place.

“That’s it. Come for me,” he panted in your ear, feeling you angle your hips against his hand in order to gain more friction on your clit, chasing your end as he increased the power behind his hammering thrusts.

Quiet whimpers grew at a steady pace as they spilled from your mouth, your whines of pleasure drowned out in your own ears as you focused on the sound of Pete’s heavy breathing and the praises he was showering you with, the pouring rain tapping furiously against the glass panes.

You unraveled together, the way your body tightly coiled before turning limp milking out his climax at the same time, his breath fanning out over your dewy skin as he rested his parted lips on your shoulder and stilled inside you.

Lifting yourself off his lap, you sank onto the mattress on your stomach, closing your eyes as exhaustion completely took over you, a faint smile tugging at your lips when you felt Pete follow, kissing up along your back until he collapsed half on top of you.

He took hold of your hand and brought it to rest between your bodies, kissing your knuckles softly until his breathing began to turn shallow as sleep quickly dragged him into its grasp.

These were the moments you knew you couldn’t live without, willing to sacrifice sleep night after night in order to love and be loved like this, the gratitude that filled you at being the one laying beside him as he slept outweighing any desire to close your eyes and miss even a second of it.

You knocked twice on the door before opening it anyway, letting yourself in just as Pete had told you to whenever you came over, the urgency you felt to get inside and out of the hallway too much to handle even if you weren’t allowed to walk in as you pleased.

Pete gave you an amused look, one of his eyebrows hooking high on his forehead as he placed the pen he had been holding in his mouth and reached for another paper to grade off the coffee table, your laughter sparking his curiosity.

“What?” he asked, letting out his own chuckle at your flustered state as you leaned against the door and ran your hand over your head.

“I was just stopped by Mrs. Platt. She told me she can hear us and to keep it down!”

Pete burst out laughing, shifting on the settee so his arm rested on the back of it to face you more.

“It’s not funny!” you argued, even though you were still laughing yourself, shaking your head in disbelief at the conversation you had just had with the crotchety woman in her eighties.

“Oh, it is!”

“Pete!” you urged, as if saying his name would scold him into not making fun of the situation, walking through to the living area where you plopped your bag down on one of the chairs as you passed.

“She actually said, ‘It’s not my place, but do you two ever sleep? All I hear night after night is that bed banging against the flaming wall!’”

Pete only laughed harder, hanging his head back over the sofa where you stood behind it and leaned down to grab hold of his face, begging him to stop laughing before kissing him in order to try to shut him up when he didn’t.

He was still chuckling when you pulled away from him, prompting you to smack his chest as you cursed at him.

“I can’t keep being stopped in the hallway to listen to this poor old woman make comments about hearing us have sex!”

“Ah, she’s just winding you up!”

You turned to walk into the kitchen only to be stopped by Pete’s arm wrapping around your waist to pull you back to the couch that he leaned over the back of, looking at you with mischief in his eyes that made you melt and suddenly not worry about anyone hearing the things you did together.

“Come on, love,” he purred. “She ain’t heard nothing yet.”

“Is that a promise, or a threat?” you asked, smirking as you freed yourself from his grip and made it into the kitchen, filling up the kettle.

“Both!” he replied, sitting back down on the sofa where he resumed marking his student’s homework.

“I need to take my car back to the mechanic,” you explained, shifting the conversation to something ordinary after a couple minutes of comfortable silence while placing a tea bag into your respective mugs.

“Yeah?” Pete asked somewhat distractedly as he focused on his task.

“Yeah, it's been making a funny noise whenever I accelerate, and it sort of jolts when I shift gear. Hopefully it’s nothing major or expensive, they were meant to be the best mechanic…”

“When are you taking it in?”

“Tomorrow morning. My sister’s going to meet me there and take me to work after.”

“I can do it if you want,” he offered, glancing over at you.

“Nah you’re off the hook,” you smiled, “she’s got some holiday time so I’m off duty being Jack’s chauffeur for a week!”

“Ah, look at you!”

“I know, right? She’s even taking him to practice this week.”

“That means I won’t get to see you there then, nothing good to look at on the sidelines and distract me,” he pouted, making you roll your eyes before pouring the hot water into your mugs.

“I reckon you’ll live.”

“Ah, then Mrs. Platt will just get to hear an even better show than normal when I get back home to you,” Pete laughed, ducking when you threw the tea towel at him.

The drive to Millwall took longer than normal due to rush-hour traffic, but it didn’t bother you as much as it typically would knowing you had a late start to your day that had been approved by your boss.

You pulled into the open bay door of the garage, parking your car and stepping out, giving a friendly smile to the mechanic who had helped you before.

“Giving you some grief, then eh?” he asked through a grin, nodding to your car as he wiped his hands on a rag.

“Yeah, as I said on the phone it’s kind of clunking when I’m shifting and the sound it makes when I accelerate worries me a bit…”

“We’ll put ‘er right, not to worry!” he beamed at you, extending his oil-stained hand to take your keys that you held out for him.

He stared at you for a moment, making you avert your gaze slightly, feeling somewhat uneasy.

“Say, you don’t happen to know the Dunham’s do you?” he asked, his question making your head whip up again in surprise. “Steve and Pete? They’re brothers.”

You tilted your head, your curiosity somewhat guarded, “I do, as it happens…”

The way his smile changed and the shift in his eyes put you on edge and raised your suspicions, but you did your best to remain confident, interested as to why he was asking and how he knew who they were.

“I thought as much,” he nodded.

His response took you back, and you blinked quickly, trying to wrap your head around this whole inquiry.

“Sorry, how exactly do you know them?”

He hesitated, staring you down for a few seconds before answering, almost as if he was being careful to formulate a proper response or like he was unsure how much to tell you.

“...We’re old mates,” he said slowly, his smile not leaving his thin lips.

You nodded, glancing down at the embroidered name tag on the chest of his overalls, the name ‘Martin’ one you wouldn’t forget.

“Right,” he broke the silence, his tone more cheerful in disrupting the somewhat tense air. “We’ll have a look at it and likely get it back to you at the start of next week…give ya a ring when we know what it needs and what the damage is.”

“Ta,” you thanked him, giving him one last look before turning and walking out of the garage, heading to your sister’s car where she was parked on the road out front.

You pulled the handle on the door and sat down into the passenger seat, looking out the window into the shop where Martin stood with another man of equal stature, both of them glancing out in your direction.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Hm? Nothing, it’s fine,” you assured her, smiling at her as you put your seatbelt on. “Can we stop for a coffee on the way?”

It was a typical Thursday night at The Abbey, everyone gathering at the table one by one as they flowed in from work, a pint and some laughs with mates seeming to be of the same priority for each hardworking hooligan alike as the week started to take its toll and winded down to an end.

“Where’s Pete?” Ike asked, sitting down beside you with his fresh pint.

“Oh, he’s coaching tonight,” you explained, spinning what was left of your gin and tonic in its glass. “He should be here in an hour or so.”

Ike nodded in confirmation as he took a long sip of his beer, both of you drawing your attention to the Bjorno’s as they walked in with a cheerful greeting.

Dave planted a kiss on Clair’s lips as he stopped at the bar to get the drinks in, letting her continue on to the table where she sat down with a sigh.

“Long shift?” you asked, catching the weary look that she couldn’t easily hide.

She glanced at you exasperatedly, “Oh, don’t even get me started!”

“Here you go, my love,” Dave said while leaning down to place her drink in front of her, kissing the top of her head as he did.

You found it difficult to focus on the conversations happening around you, your attention glued to the small group of women standing at the far side of the bar, the looks they kept shooting your way making you feel uneasy.

“Hey, do you know who they are?” you asked Clair, subtly nodding in their direction as they leaned in over the bar to get closer to Vicky, the barmaid, before all staring back at you again.

“Those tarts?” Clair began. “Yeah, they’re mates of Vicky’s. Bunch of slags.”

You nodded, taking it in but still not having an answer as to why they seemed so interested in you, thinking of all the times you had nice enough conversations with Vicky, or so you thought.

“Pete used to have it off with the blonde one,” Bovver piped up, blowing the smoke from his freshly lit cigarette in your direction as he spoke.

Your eyebrows raised high on your forehead as you took in the information, finally having some clarity as to why these women you had never seen before were obviously unhappy with your presence.

“Fucked like crazy for a few months…” he continued, the iciness of his blue eyes holding something of a threat as he told you.

“Oi! Don’t be like that,” Dave scolded him, shoving his arm. “Why do you have to say it like that?”

“It’s true!” Bov scowled, his loyalty to his relations with Vicky clearly extending to her friends over you.

You sighed, trying not to let it bother you, reminding yourself that everyone, including you, had a past, and hoped that whatever issue she had with you would pass soon.

“Right, I need another,” you stated, shaking your empty glass in your hand as you stood.

Just as you anticipated, the daggers coming from across the bar dug into your back, still doing your best to ignore them while waiting for Terry to fix your drink, but that became impossible when the blonde who was apparently an ex of Pete’s slunk over to you and stood far closer to you than you would’ve liked.

“I didn’t think it was true, but here you are,” she began, her accent sloppy from the drinks she had tossed back already, her breath smelling of stale fags and the tartness of the cranberry juice she mixed with her vodka.

“What’s true?” you asked, giving her no more than a sideways glance as you fished the change from your pocket to pay for your drink.

“That Pete is dating a plain, old slag.”

“I’m sorry, and who might you be?”

“I was you only a few months back,” she grinned, her smile vicious and proud in her admission that she had been Pete’s at one time.

You huffed as you smiled, taking your drink from Terry who eyed you up as if offering his help, turning to go back to the table. The thought of him being with someone as vile as her made your stomach lurch, and not wanting to give it any further attention, you ignored her.

“I’m not done talking to you, you soppy cow!” she shouted, her lack of couth on full display to everyone around as a hush fell over the pub.

When you continued on your way over to the group, all of them watching with bated breath to see what would happen next, the satisfaction on Bovver’s face boiling your blood more than she was, her shrill voice sounded out again, making you pause.

“He said I was the best he’s ever had, and I’ll be right here to remind him of that.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest, the adrenaline making you feel shaky and on the verge of doing something stupid, but instead you neglected to give her the drama she sought and took your seat again, praying that Pete would get there soon.

“Don’t let her get to you,” Dave assured, leaning over Clair who had already offered to fight her twice. “It wasn’t that serious…”

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” you assured, hoping it sounded genuine or at least believable.

“I mean, they were at it together for a few months…” Keith added in, earning a scolding from both Dave and Swill, making you swallow thickly.

You took a long sip of your drink as you tried to tune out the sound of the lads bickering and the jeers still coming in your direction from across the bar, your eyes closing as you tried to slow your breathing.

After a couple more minutes, you stood and made your way through the bar to the loo, praying no one would follow you, your newfound enemies calling you names as you passed.

Pete finally made it to the pub, strutting through the crowd and desperate for a beer after a long day at work and then coaching out in the cold rain, the sight of his ex leaning what she thought was invitingly against the bar making him scowl as he passed.

When there was no sight of you at the table, he did a quick glance around, distractingly returning everyone’s greetings as he shrugged out of his jacket and sat.

“Oi, what’s she doing here?” he asked Dave, nodding over in the direction of the bar where they continued to stare over at him.

Dave shook his head, “They’ve been causing trouble, pal.”

Seeing Pete’s face fall into worry as he looked around for you again, Dave continued. “She’s in the toilets, she seemed a bit upset…”

“For fuck’s sake,” Pete muttered, standing and going through the pub in quick strides, not giving his ex even a glimpse as he passed.

He pushed open the door to the ladies room more aggressively than he intended, his anger at the situation and that cheap tart upsetting you getting to him, his anger quickly turning to surprise when he saw you standing in front of the tarnished mirror reapplying your lip gloss, appearing fine and unbothered.

“Can I help you?” you grinned, watching him in the mirror with unhidden amusement at his presence.

His head tilted a bit to the side, walking toward you slowly while still assessing you, his concern still creasing his features even though he was smiling back at you.

“They said you were upset…”

You laughed and shook your head, screwing the cap back on your lip gloss before sticking it in your pocket, turning to look at him directly instead of in the mirror, your bum sitting on the edge of the sink.

“Upset? Over those twats? Come on…” you shrugged, trying your best to play it cool even though it had bothered you more than you were letting on.

Pete closed the space between you and leaned his forehead against yours, still searching your eyes for any hints of you being hurt or shaken up.

You let your eyelids close, instantly feeling relaxed from him being close to you, breathing in deeply when he brought his hands up to hold your face.

“We all have a past, Pete,” you whispered, saying it more for your own conviction than his, the frustrated exhale he let out at his past involving that awful slag fanning over your lips.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, his lips moving against yours as they hovered there, teasing a kiss.

“Don’t be sorry,” you answered, your hands trailing up his chest where you took hold of the collar of his jumper and slid the material through your fingers, his body moving closer to yours. “Just kiss me, Pete.”

He did, crashing into you so hard your head was forced back but stopped by his hands still gripping your face, his tongue delving into your mouth hungrily and greedily where you didn’t hesitate to match his fervor.

Everything was rough and desperate, kissing with a need to prove that each other’s lips were the only ones ever worth kissing, your hands pawing and groping in a crazed act of passion.

Pete’s fingers tore at the button and zipper of your jeans before diving his hand inside them, his long fingers stroking through your folds until your wet coated them, your moans reverberating in his mouth as you continued to kiss, your lips moving against each other sloppily and hastily.

After a minute, he withdrew from you, roughly tugging your jeans and panties down your thighs, his steely eyes staring at your exposed cunt as he quickly unfastened his own jeans and pulled out his hard cock before crashing against you again.

You spread your legs as wide as you were able to, giving him enough access to your core where he guided his leaking head, smearing his precum on your clit a few times until you were moaning and begging him to fill you.

Pete happily obliged, pushing inside your tight walls where he paused once he couldn’t go any deeper, kissing you frantically and groaning into your mouth from how good you felt.

Like he lost all sense of control, he slammed in and out of you, fucking you hard and fast while his mouth hung open and panted against yours in his efforts, the sink creaking precariously as you rocked your hips in time with his brutal thrusts, your fingers digging into the back of his neck and shoulders as you held on tight.

You were both so entranced in each other that neither of you noticed the door opening, his ex standing in the doorway in shock of the scene she walked into, scoffing as she turned and left.

“Fuck, babe,” he growled, pulling his face away from yours slightly where he watched his cock slide in and out of you, the sight encouraging him to move even more furiously within you, your cries growing louder as your climax quickly built up.

“Pete!” you bellowed, a desperation in your voice that told him you were on the brink, and knowing you were at risk of screaming as you came, he covered your mouth with his and proceeded to pound you mercilessly, swallowing your noises of unbridled pleasure as you clenched and shuddered on his cock.

Only seconds behind you, Pete bucked into your soaked cunt until he pumped you full of his hot spend, feeling it leak out of you as he continued to slowly thrust, drawing out every moment of your highs that he could.

You laughed as you comprehended what just happened, smoothing your hand over your head as your chest rose and fell sharply, Pete chuckling as a mischievous and prideful look dressed his flushed features.

“It’s impossible to get enough of you,” he admitted, his eyes flickering over your face as he leaned his arms against the sink, caging you in.

You hummed appreciatively, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer, kissing him long and slow and in a way you hoped conveyed everything you felt for him.

“You sure you’re alright?” he asked when your kiss slowed to a pause, the blue of his eyes more vibrant and full of emotion.

“Yeah,” you nodded, smiling at him softly while your finger traced the crease beside his mouth.

“Okay, darling,” he cooed, nuzzling his nose against your cheek as he inhaled deeply, his face moving into the side of your neck where he pressed kisses into the sensitive skin and made you squirm and giggle.

Stopping, he brought his face back up to look at you, his expression serious again, his hand finding yours where he laced your fingers together and gave it three gentle squeezes.

“You know you’re the only one I want, yeah?”

You nodded, squeezing his hand back three times, smiling bigger as his own grew.

“I do, though I wouldn’t mind you showing me again…”

“Careful what you wish for!” he laughed burying his face into your neck again where he nipped and sucked at your skin, your laughter echoing against the tiled walls.

Pete walked out of the bathroom with you confidently after cleaning up and composing yourselves, even happier to see that his ex and the rest of Vicky’s horrible friends had left, the expressions on everyone’s faces as you sat back down at the table telling you they knew exactly what you had been up to.

“Oi, that colour suits you, mate,” Ned commented, pointing to his lips as he stared at Pete’s that were tinted from your lip gloss.

“Yeah? It’d suit yours too,” Pete said, leaning over and planting a kiss on Ned’s cheek quickly before he pushed him away, cursing and wiping his cheek dramatically.

Pete laughed as he took his seat, downing his pint that had been waiting for him to return to, leaning back in his chair where he pulled you onto his lap to have you proudly perch, the atmosphere more relaxed and as it normally was.

Red dripped into the sink one drop at a time, flowing steadily from so many places on his hands and face he wasn’t even sure where it was all coming from.

Pete tugged more tissues out of the box, bunching them up and holding them to what he thought was the deepest cut on his chin with as much pressure as he could, the ache in his hand preventing him from doing a sufficient job. He didn’t think he’d cracked on that Zulu cunt as hard as he did, but his knuckles proved otherwise, split open what felt like to the bone.

Any effects the pints in his bloodstream had provided him had definitely worn off now, his head pounding and every cut on him stinging and burning like mad, the severity of each fresh injury hard to determine as he looked at himself in the mirror through one good eye, the dark, puffy welt spreading up to his other from his cheek.

He stood with a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, his blood and sweat-stained clothes discarded in a heap on the floor, his reflection revealing bruises on his side and abdomen that refused to be ignored when he had lifted his jumper over his head.

It was late, and as quiet as he tried to be, Pete knew better than to think you wouldn’t have heard him come home, your inability to stay asleep for long without him something he secretly loved and made him swell, always feeling equally as eager to get back home and in bed with you.

“Hiya, love,” he muttered, smirking at you in the mirror when you appeared in the doorway, your sleepy face quickly changing to shock when you saw the state of him.

“I’m fine!” he stressed, knowing what your next words were going to be, the worry on your face breaking his heart a little.

“Pete…” you whispered, not in an accusatory or scolding way, but out of sheer love and care, your hands cupping his cheeks gently despite getting blood on them, your eyes searching his for truth in his claim of being okay.

“Fucking Zulu’s…” he trailed off, a small laugh blowing out of his lungs.

Never once had you asked him to stop fighting, and he knew you wouldn’t now, taking the aftermath of his hobby on the chin just like he did multiple times tonight, his love and appreciation for you making him feel a bit emotional as he watched you open the cupboard and get out the first aid kit to tend to his wounds.

He blinked back the moisture that had quickly accumulated in his eyes before you were facing him again, closing them when you pressed a careful kiss to his bloody lips, letting out a long sigh when you pulled away.

“Sit so I can see better,” you instructed, your voice soft and soothing to his ears.

Pete turned and stepped toward the tub, perching on the edge of it so he faced the sink for you to work, watching the deep red spots staining it dilute into a rusty colour as water ran from the tap and washed his blood off the porcelain.

Carefully, and for as long as it would take, you gently cleaned all of his wounds, wiping the blood that had dried and stuck in his blond stubble and dabbing the cuts that still oozed, your touch becoming lighter whenever you noticed a wince that involuntarily snuck past his attempts to hide them.

Luckily, nothing needed stitches, and even though Pete knew you were done cleaning and disinfecting each cut he’d sustained, you continued to linger, admiring his bruised and battered features.

Wrapping his arms around your waist, he pulled you close to him, letting his face lean into your stomach, breathing deeply as you raked your fingers up his bare back and through his hair. His shoulders relaxed, letting go of the tension held in them from taking the painful sting of peroxide seeping into his cuts over and over, his hands smoothing up your bare thighs and your bum.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” you whispered, your lips pressing against his scalp.

He hummed, pulling his face away from the warmth of your body in his sweater.

“Yeah. C’mere,” he offered, shifting slightly so your legs had room to straddle him.

You seated yourself on his lap, smiling when his own broke out on his damaged face, your back arching into him when he placed his hands under his sweater that you had now worn more times than him to card up your back.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, admiring you for a moment before kissing you softly, his nose moving back and forth on yours a couple of times before nudging your cheek, resting his face against it while he closed his eyes and breathed slowly.

“You’re welcome, love,” you cooed, your fingers ghosting over the back of his neck, making him melt into you even more.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he spoke, mostly to himself, still finding it hard to believe that he had been lucky enough to survive his injuries and then have you walk into his classroom that one morning.

Pete kissed your cheek once, then again, each press to your soft skin urging him to add another and then more after that, eventually meeting your lips with his until minutes had passed with you lost in the haze created by your slow kisses.

His hands held your back firmly, keeping you close to him and preventing you from falling back as he moved his head away from yours and looked at you in a way that made you want to show him that the love you had for him existed like no other.

“I love you,” he professed, as if he had stolen the words right out of your mouth. Those three words were spoken with a calm surety that held such truth there was no way you could deny or question it, your fingers trembling against his cheek as you trailed them along the crease that flanked his lips.

“I love you, too, Pete.”

The taste of blood transferred onto your tongue again as he crashed into you, kissing you with more ardor than ever before, the relevancy of the cuts on his lips no longer a concern to either of you.

Your hands slipped around the back of his neck, pulling him into you even more to deepen your kiss, your hips rolling against his just enough that you could feel his cock hardening, your bare core grinding on the somewhat rough material of the towel separating you.

Pete moaned into your mouth, and without stopping kissing you, leaned back enough to unwrap the fold of the towel from his waist, letting it fall open under him.

His hands slid under your thighs, guiding you to lift your hips in order to get on top of his cock, breaking your kiss to watch your face as you sank down on his length.

Before you even had the chance to start riding him, Pete ran his battered hands over your hair, his eyes holding as much softness as his voice did.

“Just be still for me, yeah?” he asked, wanting to savour the intimacy of being inside you unmoving.

You nodded, drawing in a deep, shaky breath, closing your eyes as his nose brushed against yours before capturing your lips again, your hand resting on his chest where you could feel his heart beating wildly.

You would have been kidding yourself if you said you weren’t feeling a bit uneasy about going to pick up your car alone, the conversation you had had with the mechanic, Martin, when you dropped it off still fresh in your mind.

Pete was unable to take you, having to coach a practice after work, and your sister was taking Jack to it and staying to watch since she always missed so many, leaving you to take the tube over to Millwall to deal with it on your own.

You assured yourself over and over that it would be fine and that you were probably reading into things too much, but still the way he had mentioned knowing Steve and Pete and claiming to be old mates with them wasn’t sitting right with you. With work being so busy this week, you had completely forgotten to mention it to Pete, and you cursed yourself for failing to bring it up when you had checked with him again that morning if he was sure he couldn’t get someone else to coach for him.

As the stops to Millwall grew closer and closer, you did your best not to dwell, reading the book you brought with you while your leg bounced up and down unconsciously, your eyes scanning over the same paragraph again and again without being able to absorb the words.

“Alright, good job, lads!” Pete shouted after blowing his whistle, signaling the end of their practice.

He held the bag open for them to toss their soiled jerseys in, laughing at all their comments to each other and how supportive they all were of their teammates.

“Eh, Jack, will you help me gather up the pylons?” he asked when your nephew had made it over to him in the queue of rowdy boys.

As Pete knew he would, Jack happily jogged around the pitch and collected the majority of them, saving Pete and his leg the trouble of going to do it all himself.

“Cheers, mate,” Pete thanked him, ruffling his hair as he walked with him over to where his mum stood waiting.

“Great practice, love!” She praised her son, then smiled at Pete as Jack worked at untying his cleats and taking off his shin guards. “Reckon she’ll be back from Millwall soon, then?” she said, glancing at the watch on her wrist.

“Millwall?” Pete asked, his face screwed up at the mention of his rivaled district.

“Yeah, that’s where the mechanic is she took her car to.”

“What’s the garage called?” he questioned, an urgency present in his voice as he reached in the pocket of his jacket for his phone.

“I don’t know, I didn’t look when I had dropped her off and she never mentioned it…is everything okay?”

“Hmm, yeah,” Pete lied, trying to settle the rising panic he felt inside him at the thought of the garage you took your car to for repairs being Tommy fucking Hatcher’s.

He hit the button to dial your number and held it up to his ear, pacing as he listened to ring after ring before the sound of your voice came through, his heart falling when it was only your voicemail picking up.

“Fuck-” he hissed, hanging up before redialling, praying you would pick up and tell him you weren’t alone at Tommy’s garage.

The bell that chimed when the door opened sounded ominous tonight as you stepped through it, the smell of oil and exhaust fumes hitting your nose heavily, the distant sound of the radio and tools clanking against metal filling the otherwise quiet shop.

Your car was parked out front, seemingly ready to drive off in, and you hoped to settle the bill and get your keys quickly so you could make your way back to see Pete, wanting this day and especially this exchange to be over and done with.

Glancing through the window that looked into the garage from where the little waiting area was, you could see Martin bent over the bonnet of a car, and behind him, a small office where who you assumed was the owner sat at his desk.

When neither man noticed your presence, you stepped through into the bay, careful your heels didn’t slip on the greasy floor.

The man in his office finally caught sight of you, grinning with a somewhat villainous smile that split his hardened features, and you thought no matter how friendly he tried to appear, there was something about him that seemed impossible to soften.

“Hello, love,” he greeted, his voice matching his looks.

“Hi, sorry,” you stammered, “I’m just here to get my car.” You hooked your thumb and pointed over your shoulder in the direction of where it sat outside, planting your feet firmly on the cement floor while doing your best to stand tall and confident.

“Yeah, not a problem, I’ve got the paperwork all here for ya,” he explained, standing from his chair and turning to reach for some papers from the filing cabinet behind him.

Martin nodded as you walked past him to enter the office, giving you a curt ‘Evening,’ as you smiled weakly in return.

The man seemed to fill the entire space of his office, his form tall and broad, his personality giving off a powerful air that made you feel somewhat suffocated.

There were empty beer bottles on his desk, and scattered across the walls and cabinets that took up nearly every square inch of the small room were various pieces of Millwall F.C. paraphernalia.

“You a fan?” he asked, catching you looking at the poster of the crest hung on the wall beside him.

“Erm, no, I don’t really pay attention to football all that much,” you lied, the realization that this man was clearly a huge supporter of the club that was Pete’s sworn enemy making you want to avoid the topic altogether.

“No?” he questioned, his head tilting to the side as another vicious smile revealed his teeth. “Not even a fan of the mighty Hammers?”

The way he said it made your blood turn cold, and you swallowed thickly, thinking how Martin must have discussed your affiliation to West Ham United through knowing Pete and Steve, and you wondered if these men were members of Millwall’s infamous firm.

You shook your head and huffed out a false laugh, reaching into your purse for your wallet.

“No,” you repeated, hoping he didn’t press his inquiry any further.

Clearing your throat to ensure your words came out properly, you started filing through the stack of notes you had taken out of the bank that morning, counting out what you had been told the total was going to be for the repairs.

“It was £450, wasn’t it?”

“That’s right,” he confirmed, watching as you placed the money on his desk, folding his arms across his chest.

“You sure you aren’t running about and singing along to ‘Forever Blowing fucking Bubbles’ then?”

You scoffed, trying your best to look like you hadn’t heard or even sang that song more times than you could count since meeting Pete.

“Ah, I see,” he said, slowly. “So you’re going to lie right to my face and tell me you’re not Pete Dunham’s missus, are ya?”

You almost choked, words unable to form on your tongue that felt too big for your mouth, the air in your lungs feeling trapped while everything around you started to distort as a dizziness overcame you.

“How…how do you know that?”

He pointed his finger at you, his lips still curled into a smile. “See, I knew you were lying to me, you little slag.”

You stepped back as he walked around his desk, his blue eyes icy with an evil you had never seen before.

“Don’t you think you’re going anywhere anytime soon, love,” he grinned, sitting on the edge of his desk as he nodded behind you. “Martin there hates your little boy toy just as much as I do, so he won’t be letting you run past him too easily either.”

You kept still, taking in as deep a breath as you could, closing your eyes briefly to gain some courage as you thought of which of the many questions racing through your mind to ask next.

“How do you know who I am?” your voice squeaked out, unable to hide your fear.

He shrugged his shoulders and frowned, “I get people to find things out for me.”

“Right, I’d just like to get my keys and leave, I don’t want any trouble-”

“You’re missing the fucking point, here!” he shouted, cutting you off. “Didn’t little Petey warn you about me?”

You shook your head again, confused as to who this man even was to Pete. “No, I-”

“Was he too afraid to come with you, not man enough to protect you?”

He stood from his desk, walking closer to you until you were face to face and your back was pressed against a cabinet, leaving you nowhere to escape.

“Is the taste of death still too fresh for him?” he laughed, clearly amused in seeing you put it all together.

“You’re-”

“Yeah, that’s right, darling,” he cooed, his face so close to yours you could smell the stale beer and smoke on his putrid breath. “I’m Tommy Hatcher. The man who nearly wiped out the Dunham name.”

He seemed so proud of it, like the memory was something he revisited often, and you felt sick knowing you were standing vulnerable at the hands of the man who almost killed the one you couldn’t live without.

“It’s funny, innit? That out of all the garages in London to get your car fixed, you came to mine.”

His finger jabbed into your chest with each word, making you recoil to try to make space between you, only to press yourself harder into the cabinet.

“You’re vile,” you spat, shoving your arm against his chest to push him away from you, only to have him come back stronger and closer than before.

He gripped your chin with his meaty hand, his fingers digging into your skin so hard it made you yelp.

“I’ve been watching you for weeks now. You should really pay more attention to your surroundings, love,” he warned, the pleasure he took in this written all over his grisly face. “How’s that nephew of yours, by the way?”

Bile rose up your throat at the idea of him getting to Jack and causing him harm, the lengths this horrible, soulless man would go to to make anyone he hated suffer having no limit.

“He seems like a good lad,” he whispered, his mouth hovering beside your ear where his hot breath made your skin crawl and you squirm in his grasp. “It’d be a fucking shame if he didn’t make it past his twelfth birthday just like my son didn’t.”

“You wouldn’t!” you cried, trying to move your legs enough to kick him, only to have his body lean harder into yours to stop you.

“See, you’re forgetting what I’m capable of. How easy it was to drive that bottle into Stevie’s neck and how much fucking joy I got breaking Petey’s body until he was lifeless on the ground.”

His grip tightened on your face as his eyes scanned over you, and despite your efforts to not let it happen, tears sprang from your eyes at the description of him trying to kill Pete.

“Don’t think it wouldn’t be hard to do the same thing to you or that little boy.”

With all the strength you had, you pushed against him, hitting him as hard as you could in his stomach while stomping hard on his foot, but Tommy was too strong, slamming you back into the cabinet so the handle drove into your ribs and all the air in your lungs was knocked out of you.

He laughed in your face, locking his forearm across your neck to keep you in place, your struggle to breathe seeming to satisfy him.

“I could do anything I wanted to you right now and no one would know or be able to stop me,” he bragged, growing more aroused with the power he held over you.

He ground himself against you, making you feel his hardness through his trousers, the possibility of you actually being sick between that and the lack of oxygen becoming more and more likely.

“It’s funny, you've got the same look of terror in your eyes as he did right before I smashed his fucking face in!” he pointed out, his laughter ringing through the room like you had just shared a joke together.

Within a split second his demeanor changed again, glaring at you seriously as his voice quieted and turned calm.

“See, I could rape you, ruin you so he’d never want to touch you again...”

You let out a broken sob, your eyes screwing shut when you felt his other hand travel slowly down your waist until he reached your thighs, stopping when he spoke again.

“But it’s lucky for you I’m a changed man.”

Tommy loosened the force of his arm against your neck, backing away from you slightly, and ran a hand over his hair to regain some composure.

“Don’t wanna be stuck in the nick again over someone as pitiful as you and your precious Petey!” he barked, adjusting himself in his pants crudely while you shook against the cold, metal cabinet.

He reached for something on his desk, turning around and quickly throwing your keys at your face where they missed and hit you hard in the chest, making you jump and cry out which only made him howl a maniacal laugh.

“Go on, you shitcunt,” he spat, “go home to Petey and cry all about it to him!”

You stooped and grabbed your keys off the grimy floor with a trembling hand, bolting out the door as fast as your legs would carry you, the sound of his and Martin’s laughter chasing you out of the building where you pressed the button to unlock your car as quickly as possible.

The tears didn’t come until you were out of the lot and onto the road, the lights from passing cars blurry and blinding as you finally let out wracking sobs, unaware of how fast you were going or which roads you were turning down, getting as far away from Tommy Hatcher as you could the only thing on your mind.

---

Part 6

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[theesirenteller]

Aesthetically pleasing scenario/s

Raymond's young librarian wife who enjoys being read to by him, early morning cuddles as he reads the paper, and quality time spent with him painting your nails.

AU!SOCCER PLAYER PETE DUNHAM'S young wife who's newly wed to him.

[charliehunnamsgf-character-ai]

PETE DUNHAM || I just watched green street and…

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

Hi lovely can I please get ready a Pete Dunham smutfest post with the prompt "First time after getting married", hope this reaches you well, thank you

I don't think the football team was mentioned so I made one up.

Masterlist

Wedding Night

Contains:Fluff, smut (oral sex M and F receiving, fingering, P in V)

1.4K words

Comment if you want to be tagged/removed or follow #Sp's fluffiest Smutfest

“Two souls with but a single thought; two hearts that beat as one.” - John Keats

Pete was over the moon that you had found a way to incorporate his football team on your special day. He had insisted that you didn't need to, that this was about both of you but football was a part of him and it was his day too.

He wore a three piece suit with a dark, forest green bowtie, his groomsmen wearing dress shirts of the same colour and various shades of green were mixed into the decoration.

After a small and intimate chapel wedding, you headed to The Abby for the reception. Gone were the working class pictures and football decorations and in their place were simple fairy lights and soft white flowers.

The heartfelt speeches drifting into a night of dancing and then one final drink before Pete was taking your hand and pulling you to the car while everyone cheered.

"Are you ready to go home, my utterly gorgeous wife?"

You smiled, "oh, most definitely."

You were barely out of the car before Pete's lips were on yours and he was pulling you to your feet. You made it inside in a flash, Pete's lips gentle on yours as you kicked off your shoes. The cosy cottage you had bought just after he proposed was quiet and you almost danced towards the bedroom. He pulled away from you, his eyes dreamy, "I love you so much."

You smiled and pressed your forehead to his, "I love you too." You reached out and slid your hand up his chest and under his suit jacket, then brushed it off his shoulder, his hands were already at his vest when you went to take that off, a smile on his face as he removed it and dropped it in a pile with his jacket.

You slowed as you removed his bowtie and his dress shirt, your fingers brushing each button as you pressed your lips to his bare chest as the shirt came undone. He took your head in his hands and kissed you again, your plans to remove his pants forgotten as you got swept up in the kiss.

You pushed against his chest, Pete gigging as you hurried to get his belt off and his pants down, "slow down love, we have our whole lives." You pecked him again as you pushed his pants down, Pete stepping out of them while you took a good look at his tight green underpants, "your turn."

He walked around you, his hand never leaving your skin as he laced your wedding dress. You held your dress up and his eyebrows wrinkled, "don't tell me you're shy all of a sudden?"

You shook your head, "no, I have a surprise." You took his hand and guided him back in front of you, Pete's eyes going wide as your wedding dress fell to the floor. He took in your lingerie, not only was it the exact colour of his football team but the lace over each breast was sewn to look like the coat of arms tattooed on his chest.

"Oh boy." He kissed you then pulled back to get another look at you, his cock hardening rapidly in his boxers. You smiled at him and dropped to your knees, Pete swallowing as you looked up at him with hooded lashes. You pulled his boxers down and his cock sprang free, Pete moaning as you wrapped your hand around the base and leaned in close to lick the tip like an ice cream.

His head fell back in pleasure as you sucked him into your mouth. His hand found your cheek while the other rested on your shoulder. There was no hurry and Pete seemed to enjoy that, his hand squeezing your shoulder lovingly as you worked him closer to the edge.

Pete put both his hands on your shoulders and took a step back, smiling at your confused face, "you're my wife and it's our wedding night, you're not going to let me have a say?"

He held his hands out and you took them, Pete helping you off the floor and leading you to stand by the bed. His eyes raked over you and you gave him a gentle smile, "what is it my love?"

He chuckled, "I have no fucking clue how I'm going to get it off you." You smiled and he shook his head, "I know what you're going to say, there no way I'm not seeing you in this again so don't tell me to rip it off you."

You giggled, "I don't know how you're going to get it off me either, I could barely put it on, it was like a puzzle."

"You cheeky.." You kissed him and relented, showing him each and every clasp and lace, Pete's fingers brushing your skin as he undid them. He placed his hand on your cheek and kissed you, his lips soft on yours and gently placed you on the bed.

There was a reverence to his touch that made you want to cry, or bury yourself in his chest and never come out, Pete always made you feel safe and loved but this was something else, the realisation that this was the rest of your life washing over you as his lips found your neck.

He kissed down your body and your hands found his head, scratching his scalp while he moaned softly. "I've been waiting to get your mouth on your cunt all night."

He wasn't lying, his lips hit your flesh like the thought of consuming you whole had been the only thought he ever had. With no hair for your fingers to gain purchase on, you were at his mercy as his lips wrapped around your clit. His hands held your thighs open as the pleasure hit you in waves.

"Pete, please." He lifted his head, the sensation fading fast and leaving a heated throb behind.

"What do you need?" He sounded smug.

"More."

He chuclked, "more of what? I don't have another tongue and you're not getting my cock until you cum for me so what do you need?"

Your breath shuttered out of your lungs, "your fingers, please."

He smiled, "sure love, all you needed to do was ask."

His mouth returned to your skin and he took one hand off your thigh and slid his fingers up and down your slit before sliding two fingers inside you. Your hips bucked and Pete smiled as he pressed you G-spot in a way that he knew would make you see stars. He replaced his mouth with his thumb and looked up at you with a boyish smile, "as much as they guys would laugh if you broke my nose, I think it might put a damper on the night so you got to stay still for me, I don't have enough hands for that."

He didn't give you a chance to reply, moving his thumb and using it to hold you open while his lips sealed around your clit. The closer you got the harder it got to stay still and something about the way his arm left your leg and held your hips down had you flying off the cliff like a runaway car.

"I thought you didn't have enough hands."

He smirked as he kissed his way up your body, "I'm fast love, you know that."

You giggled, "I hope not."

When his lips found yours, the kiss was harsher than the ones before and you let him lead as he hovered over you, "you want this?"

You made a face, "when did you start to ask silly questions, of course I…" You were cut off by Pete sliding inside you, and the breath caught in your throat as he bottomed out.

He held himself up on his arms so he could look into your eyes and started to rock his hips, the slow roll of his body filling you with warmth. "Touch yourself." You scrambled to shove a hand between your bodies as Pete hit his stride, his eye raking over your body as your chest heaved.

"Come on love, be my good girl." He dropped onto his elbows and kissed you, his nose bumping yours as he deepened it. You threw your leg over his hips and matched his pace, Pete faulting as you chased your high and came around him in a haze of white vision and pleasure.

Pete's head dropped to yours as he followed you off the cliff, then his weight was falling onto you as he caught his breath.

He pressed his forehead into yours, his smile filled with affection, "I love you y/n."

"I love you Pete, with all my heart."

Fin

[hotdamnhunnam]

Green Street Goals

A/N: Here’s a fic about a lesser-known but just as awesome character played by Charlie Hunnam - from Green Street Hooligans, Pete Dunham! This bloke is fucking stunning, and he seriously puts the ‘cock’ in ‘cockney’ (see gif below, honestly JUST LOOK AT THAT BODY... 🥵) Hope you enjoy reading a little something naughty (fluffy + smutty!) with this hottie 😋

Pairing: Pete Dunham x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, reader gets pregnant, ‘ey look bruvs ya betta not judge me paffetic attempts to write wiv a bloody legit cockney accent Request: This lovely anon request for a smutty, fluffy, pregnancy imagine with Pete Dunham!

Word Count: ~2k

Note to any readers from the US: FYI, ‘football’ in this fic refers to the sport that we call ‘soccer’ lol   🏈  ⚽️

“GOOOOAL!”

He roars out the word in a loud primal scream, as he fills up your cunt so deliciously full. Pete Dunham is the man of your dreams—and he’s gorgeous as hell, and he fucks you so well, for as long as you’ve been together—so you’re not even bothered, that he’s such an absolute fool. 

Pete has made it a fun little habit to treat sex with you like a damn football game. Your man lives and breathes football, so it’s no surprise that he thinks in those terms when he shoots his load deep in your hole. Sure, the ‘goal’ roar is so immature, but you’re too fucked to care, given how hard the both of you came. He’s so hot it’s not fair. By this point you’ve begun to enjoy it and can’t even say you’re ashamed.

“Mmm, that was such a tight fuckin’ score,” Pete growls into your ear, his firm body grinding into yours, as he playfully tickles you so hard it brings you to laughter and tears. Ugh, this bastard is fierce. “Such a good fuckin’ whore.”

There’s a round two in store, to be sure, as he kisses the air from your lungs, with his talented tongue, while his hands wander over your skin... or at least would’ve been, if it weren’t for a buzz at the door. You both try to ignore, till one ring of the bell turns to four. Then a half dozen more.

“Fuckin ‘ell,” Pete groans out, planting one final passionate kiss on your mouth. Sliding off of your bare naked body as you try and fail to get hold of yourself. You’re in no state to greet any guests—sex with Pete always leaves you a mess, so completely fucked out. 

The uninvited bastard keeps ringing the bell, so damn loud. Your man’s had quite enough. “Now don’t even move, love. I’ll just step out and tell ‘em to fuck off.”

Grabbing a large towel off the floor, to wrap around his lower half—which does little to cover up his massive half-hard shaft—Pete leaves the bedroom and struts over toward the front door. Quick to dismiss the guest who dared to interrupt the mad hot sex he was about to have.

Waiting for him in bed, you smile as you soak in the sensation of his cum filling you up, flooding your cunt. Neither you nor Pete has any way of knowing this just yet... but with the load that he just dropped, Dunham just scored a goal with his woman in more ways than one.

***************

For the next couple of weeks, you have no goddamn clue that you’re pregnant. Not consciously, at least. But something sure seems to be happening subliminally, ‘cause lately you and Pete have been going at it like wild fucking beasts. Whenever he wants, and whenever you please. 

He attacks you especially savagely, ravaging you downright criminally, recently. You have never felt such intense passion and heat, in all the countless hours you’ve spent tangled up in each other between the sheets. No doubt waking up all of the neighbors on Green Street.

Tonight—again, after a thousand times today—your man is slamming you so ravenously you can’t even speak. But he sure as hell can, and has a lot to say. Pete’s always been a fan of dirty talk, gushing about how good it feels when you’re taking his big fat cockney cock.

“Take it, ya filthy little slut,” he grunts, gripping your tits in his strong hands, kissing you softly as he kills you with his touch. Seamlessly mixing in the smut with lovely little bits of romance. “Jesus, so good, Y/N. Love ya so fuckin’ much. You’re everything I want. Swear I could live and die inside this tight wet cunt.”

And you believe it, honest—that you’re everything he ever loved and wanted. Ever needed. There’s a deep hunger inside Pete Dunham’s heart, and only his woman can feed it. Somehow still gives you butterflies to realize how blessed you are, whenever you think on it: fact is that woman is you.

And yet Pete doesn’t only say this sappy nonsense when he’s all horny and heated. Showers you with corny bullshit in the heartfelt moments too, like when he ditches plans to catch a football match just to stay home and spend a quiet afternoon cuddled up on the couch to watch a film or two. 

Of course the loving cuddles always lead to sex. But you can tell that he is just as happy wrapped up in your arms, all soft and safe and warm, as he is when he’s buried deep between your legs. That’s how you know his love is true.

Sometimes mid-cuddle, while you kiss away the woes of a bad day, making him smile and laugh till he forgets his troubles... sometimes you just can’t help but wonder what the future holds, for you two as a couple. The both of you are still young yet, with many years ahead. 

But Pete is knee-deep in a certain way of life, and that’s no secret—one that doesn’t hold much promise for a safe and happy family with a loving loyal wife. The kind of wife you’d want to be for him. The kind of promise you would need from him.

And though you know that on some level Pete does want that too, with you... you’re not sure if he realizes the full extent of what it’d mean if you were to become his Mrs. Dunham.

But thoughts like these... they’re just the passing threat of storm clouds in the distance over calm and steady seas. There is no need to think like this. Not yet, at least. For now just sail along in bliss. Thank heaven for your luck, of finding love with someone, who happens to be the biggest-hearted lad in London. Also just happens to be a sexy beast with an enormous gorgeous cock.

That’s some serious fucking luck.

***************

What the fuck. What the actual mother of fuck.

Literally... the mother of fuck.

How am I supposed to stand here and decide whether I am prepared to become a damn mother, you think. You and Pete are so happy together—have been for what feels like forever—and truly in love with each other, but... ugh. You stare at your own blank expression in the reflection above the bathroom sink. Then back down at the white stick you’re holding, this ungodly thing, in sheer horror and shock.

It’s the third test you’ve tried, in one night. With the same damn result. This is honestly not even possible. Whatever happened, this isn’t your fault. You cannot be responsible. No, not at all. This has got to be some kind of 1% chance accident. Doesn’t it? Yes, yes it does. Just your motherfucking rotten luck.

You’ve been taking the pill every day, for the past several months, never missing it once. You’re damn sure, no matter what this dumb fucking stick tries to say. Maybe you should just crush it to pieces all over the floor. There is no way. Just no fucking way...

It’s not long before Pete comes to knock at the door, checking if you’re okay. “...‘ey, love. Ya alright? Know it’s that bloody time of the month but just ‘ope you’re not gonna be stuck in the toilet all night. Lemme know if there’s anything I can do, yeah? Massage on the sofa? We can snuggle up, watch one of those stupid films you love. Got a nice ‘ot pot of mac on the stove.”

Aw. Of course he does. Knows mac and cheese is your favorite comfort food, never more so than this time of the month when you’re usually moody from oozing a miserable flood of blood.

Little does he know you’re fucking not. For the first time in your life, tonight, you so desperately wish you were having your period.

Now what do you even... God, what can you say? Where do you begin, telling him everything’s definitely not okay?

“Pete, I...” you reply, as tears itch at your eyes. Pray the pitch of your voice won’t betray that you’re going to cry. “J-just gimme a minute, alright?”

“Shit,” he mutters as soon as you’ve said it, gently but insistently rattling at the locked doorknob. Pete has always been able to tell straightaway when you’re starting to sob. “Something’s wrong, Y/N—lemme in?”

Fuck him. Shit like this is just one of a thousand reasons why you love him. “N-no, it’s just...”

“Fuck that, love,” he brushes away your denial and literally rips the doorknob off—of course he does—flinging the door halfway off of its hinges as he deliberately storms inside. “Need to know you’re alright.”

“Pete...!” you gasp as the shock of his entrance causes you to drop the damn stick in your hands, letting it clatter down to your feet. 

On any other night, the way he just decided to fucking intrude might’ve seemed fucking rude. But Pete knows what is good. He knows when you’re alright, when you’re not. Always knows what you need.

And right now you need him. Here with you in this room. At the sight of the thing you just dropped, you can hear his heart stop.

He slowly reaches down, without making a sound. Picks it up.

One word slips from his lips in a breathless huff. “Love...”

“Pete, I’m so fucking sorry,” you blurt out, unable to stop words from frantically spouting from your panicked mouth, as you shudder in shame and worry. “I... I don’t know what happened. Honest. It must be the worst fucking luck of an accident, but I—I promise this wasn’t my fault...”

“Fault?” he repeats the word, flinching as if it had hurt. But the flinch quickly turns to the faintest, most softhearted hint of a smile as he takes a step forward, reaching to cradle your face like a treasure and pressing his forehead to yours. Firmly yet warmly pushing your back up against the cold wall. “Y/N, this ain’t anyone’s fault. Not at all. It’s a goal.”

His brilliant blue gaze blazes straight to the core of your soul. Breaking you into pieces and making you whole.

“I mean, ‘ell—these past couple of weeks we’ve been shaggin’ like beasts, I didn’t ‘ave the balls to tell—but, well...” he goes on, just a little shy, but also with a cocky little sparkle in his eyes. Because as it turns out, he is proud of his big fucking balls. “...love, I swear I’ve been secretly thinkin’ and wishin’ my balls may’ve scored a damn goal past your birth control.”

What... how... even... every word out of his mouth is heaven. Is he serious now?? Motherfucking serious...?

Pete reads the silence off your lips and leans in for a kiss to show you just how serious he is. “Please just tell me that I’m not the only one who fuckin’ wants this. Be honest. I mean—far be it from me to put any pressure—the choice is all yours, o’course...”

This goddamn perfect bastard loves and respects you so much it fucking hurts. With the world’s biggest fucking smile on your lips, you can’t resist the urge to steal another kiss, tasting the promise in his words. 

Could go on kissing him for hours, pressing yourself into him with such passionate force that you clumsily crash into the shower. But you have to pause just to tell him your choice, as he hears and feels the promise in your voice. He is right that the choice is all yours. But your future together... that’s something the two of you will share forever. And that’s the only truth, the only goal, that matters. 

“Yeah, but the goal is ours.”

***************

Hope you enjoyed this! As always, would love to hear if you did! 🤗💖

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[vinnieswife]

Pete Dunham headcannons.

Pete dunham x gn! reader

words: 545

author’s note: it’s been a long time since I wrote anything, and this movie has been my hyper-fixation since last month. Language is not my first language sorry if there are any grammar errors.

- Pete is loyal to a fault. Once your are close to him, in his inner circle he would do anything to protect and support you, wether in a fight or when you are having an emotional crisis.

- He is protective, really protective, but not controlling, he knows you are strong and that you can handle things on your own, but he is always keeping an eye on you.

- He struggles with letting you see his vulnerable side, he doesn’t open up easily, and when he does it’s really intense.

- He’s not fond of pda, however he is a big fan of protective touches, his arm around your shoulders, holding your hand, or his hand on your lower back.

- Behind doors he is a whole different person, having his hands on you all the time, having long cuddle sessions after a long day at work.

- quality time = pub time, he enjoys being at The Abbey, being with you and his friends at the same time, seeing his friends being so open and warm towards you brings him joy.

- He is a simple guy, not the type to do big things but the one who remembers little detail about you, how you like your coffee, the cup you prefer for your tea, a song you like… I think that he would bring you flowers on special occasions, or because he thought that you deserved then that day.

- He can be hot-headed, especially if someone is crossing the line with you, anyway, he tries to be reasonable when it comes to arguments between the two of you.

- Football is something important to him, the same way you are, so he will try to include you in it, taking you to a West Ham game, without getting into a fight of course (only because you were there)

- Endless nights cleaning the cuts and bruises on his body, patching him up gently, kissing his broken lip.

- Expect spontaneous walks through London at night after a long pub night, talking about nonsense, what you were gonna do for dinner, how our future house will be decorated, and some gossip ofc.

- Handwritten notes. He will put them around the apartment, wishing you a good day at work, simply saying I love you, or even cheesy ones.

- It might take Pete a while to admit he wants something serious with you, but once he does, he’s committed for life. Date to marry. You’re his person.

- He is someone who might be (is) rough around the edges but would make you feel deeply cherished and protected.

- He quietly dreams about leaving the hooligan life behind one day and settling down.

- He’s always checking in on you in subtle ways—“You eat yet?” or “Call me when you get home aight.”

- On lazy days he loves holding you while laying on the couch, resting his chin on your shoulder or tracing circles on your back.

- He might not be overly expressive, but when he does he speaks from the heart, even if he struggles to find the words.

- Sometimes he doesn’t need words at all. Just sitting next to you in comfortable silence, holding you, or pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

:)

[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.

[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

---

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

[laurfilijames]

Rain

Pairing: Pete Dunham x female reader

Words: 600+

Warnings: Intense make out session outside The Abbey that is suggestive to leading to public sex.

Summary: Not even the rain can stop you and Pete from keeping your hands to yourselves.

A/N: I have at least four other WIPs I should be working on but this happened and here you go.

---

It smelled like rain.

It was about to downpour, but you didn't care.

The cold wind rushed around you, pushing you closer to Pete and his endless warmth, your hair whipping out and then back against your face again, only to have him card through it with his long fingers in an attempt to keep it out of his way.

He never lacked passion, his barrage starting long before you had even made it through the doors of The Abbey, not paying any mind to who bore witness to the things most people would wait to do in private. His hands had been all over you while inside, lingering and teasing, and stepping out into the freedom of the open air only seemed to encourage him more, the one that had swept your hair away slipping down to land on the column of your neck where he applied enough pressure to make you suck in a deep breath, deepening the reach of his tongue in your mouth as he did. His other hand skirted along your waist, grazing your skin in a playful manner that almost tickled and made you squirm, the difference between his two touches and the varying sensations effectively intoxifying you.

“Pete,” you breathed, his smile looking blurry as you tried to focus when he parted from you, and now you were the one clawing at him to bring him back to you. Gripping at his tan trenchcoat, you crashed against him, exchanging the smell of the oncoming weather with his skin and the last pint he had downed, swallowing his chuckle as you explored his mouth with your tongue eagerly.

Any amusement he found in this was quickly rid of, his moans reverberating through you when you ground your hips against his, not feeling shy in rubbing yourself on his hard bulge as if there were no clothes separating you.

“Fucking hell,” he huffed, pausing as if deciding whether it would be better to stop before going too far or simply abandon any decency he had left, ultimately choosing the latter as he looked down at your kiss-swollen lips and touched them with his thumb, moving his body forward to force yours back against the brick wall behind you when he captured you in another claiming kiss.

His lips needed yours, a desperation transferring from him to you that made it seem like if he didn't kiss you enough, the skies would open up from the power of his fury alone.

Heavy drops of rain pelted off his coat, the sound almost able to overtake that of your wet and frantic kisses, and feeling the rain start to bead down your faces only seemed to add to the frenzy, like Mother Nature was encouraging you to let all inhibitions go.

The wind picked up again, passing through the limited space between your bodies, your nipples pressing against your shirt in a pleasurably painful way as they peaked into hard pebbles, increasing your arousal to a level that had you whining into Pete’s mouth while finding it difficult to continue breathing.

The assault of the biting cold contrasting to Pete’s warmth along with the pummeling of rain on your exposed bits of skin had you dizzy, the excitement and anticipation of how far both of you were willing to go standing outside the pub adding to your overstimulation, and when he dove down to kiss your neck, you knew there was no way of getting out of this now.

You closed your eyes, tearing at his body under his jumper, begging with your hands for him to give you everything right then and there, your fingers acting on their own and instinctively finding the button on his jeans as he continued to nip and suck at your wet skin.

It was raining, but you didn’t care.

---

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Taglist: @stealfromthedevil @theesirenteller @inbar-thomas1980 @lilac13

[laurfilijames]

On Sundays

Pairing: Pete Dunham x reader

Words: +500

Warnings: Pure fluff.

Summary: Cuddles on the settee with Pete watching football leads to an unexpected nap and is undoubtedly the best way to spend a Sunday.

A/N: Rather than working on any of my other WIPs, I decided to go ahead and write something no one wants or asked for to try to get me out of this little rut. Once again, I'm indulging in sleep intimacy with my favourite man. (I also know it's not Sunday. Whatever.) No tags because it's just silly and I'm sorry I have nothing else ready that was promised.

---

You didn’t think you were even tired, but the longer you laid on the sofa with Pete watching the match, the more your eyes felt heavy and sleep threatened to set in.

The whole combination was bliss and the perfect recipe for lulling you into a dream; laying on top of Pete, your head resting comfortably on his chest, his hands languidly rubbing up and down your back beneath your jumper that kept lifting up with each pass, the sounds of his breaths and strong heartbeat pulling you in and keeping your focus even when he shouted out a complaint at the referee or one of the players.

You swore you would be productive today, knowing how quickly a Sunday turned into Monday and the rush of the week would make you regret not better preparing yourself, but when Pete requested you watch the match with him and have “a quick snuggle”, there was no way you could say no.

Your cup of tea was left half-drank on the coffee table beside Pete’s can of Foster’s, the warmth it provided nothing compared to his body heat, making you melt into him more and more with each second that ticked by.

Just a couple more minutes, you had thought to yourself, thinking of all the things that still needed your attention that suddenly weren’t anywhere near as important as cuddling up to your hooligan.

Each jolt of his body and low rumble of his voice through his torso only aided in you opting to spend the rest of your day lazily, and with one last glance at the telly to check how much time was left in the match, you smiled that it wasn’t even half-time yet.

You took a deep inhale as you allowed your eyes to close, breathing in his scent of woodsy body wash and the warmth of his bare skin, your fingers idly tracing the outlines of the West Ham crest on the right side of his chest.

It took a moment for your eyes to adjust when you opened them, the flat darker than when you had fallen asleep as the day was absorbed into night, the fluorescent glow from the t.v. harsh in the otherwise dark room.

Pete was asleep below you, his soft snores and slow, deep breaths indicating how soundly he was sleeping, and as much as you didn't want to have to move from this blissful resting spot on the settee, you knew bed was the best option at this point.

With his legs still securely wrapped around yours, you remained in place, settling your chin on his sternum to better look at his peaceful face, and carefully moved your hand up to trace over his alluring lips. Unable to help yourself, you reached forward to bring your mouth to his, kissing his sleepy lips only once before he began to stir.

A groggy moan sounded from him, but he managed to return your kiss, his hands readjusting on your back to hold you closer to him and smooth down over your bum and back up again, and as his kisses grew more eager, you knew you wouldn’t be leaving this spot anytime soon.

---

[vinnieswife]

Photo booth!

Pete dunham x reader

word count: 470

The fairgrounds are alive with noise and color, the scent of popcorn and fried dough swirling in the evening air. Strings of lights crisscross overhead, casting everything in a warm, golden glow. You and Pete are walking hand in hand, weaving through the crowd, his thumb occasionally brushing across your knuckles in that absentminded, affectionate way he has.

Then you spot it—a vintage photo booth tucked near the edge of the midway. Its weathered black-and-white sign reads, “4 Pictures, 2 pounds.”

You tug on Pete’s arm, pulling him toward it. “Come on, let’s do it!”

He stops in his tracks, arching an eyebrow. “A photo booth? Really?”

“Yes, really,” you say, grinning up at him. “It’ll be fun.”

He looks skeptical, glancing at the line of people waiting for rides, the games offering stuffed animals the size of small cars, then back at the booth. “We could be eating funnel cake instead,” he points out.

“Pete,” you say, fixing him with your best I’m-not-taking-no-for-an-answer look, “this is non-negotiable. We’re making memories here.”

His mouth quirks into a smile, like he’s not sure whether to roll his eyes or kiss you. “Fine,” he says, feigning exasperation. “But if this thing falls apart while we’re in there, you’re explaining it to the paramedics.”

You laugh and drag him toward the booth. The inside is cramped, the bench small enough that you’re practically sitting in his lap. He looks a little out of place, knees bent awkwardly and shoulders hunched to fit, but there’s a soft amusement in his eyes as he watches you slip the crumpled bills into the slot.

“Okay,” you say, grinning as the machine whirs to life, “first picture—smile!”

The camera flashes, and Pete smiles, though it’s more of a smirk. For the second shot, you nudge him. “Do something goofy!”

“Goofy?” he repeats, but he sticks out his tongue and crosses his eyes just as the flash goes off.

By the third picture, you’re both laughing too hard to pose properly, and by the fourth, he leans in and kisses your cheek, catching you by surprise as the camera clicks.

When the strip of photos finally prints, you hold it up, examining the four little squares of you and Pete, frozen in light and shadow. Each frame is imperfect in its own way, but together they’re perfect.

“See?” you say, handing him the strip. “Totally worth it.”

He takes it, glancing down at the pictures, a quiet smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah,” he says softly, almost to himself. “I guess it was.”

Later, you notice he keeps the strip in his wallet, tucked behind his ID. He doesn’t say much about it, but every now and then, you catch him glancing at the photos when he thinks you’re not looking, his expression warm and just a little bit smitten.

And every time you see it, it reminds you: sometimes, the best memories are the ones you convince each other to make.

[vinnieswife]

could you do gf reader giving pete the silent treatment after a fight ending is up to you

The Silent Treatment

Pete dunham x reader

word count: 1.4k

author’s note: omg yes, i feel like this would happen after pete got into a fight with guys from another firm after you told him not to. English is not my first language sorry if there are some errors. :)

You told Pete not to go looking for trouble. He promised he wouldn’t. “Scout’s honor,” he’d said, with that cheeky grin, the one he always uses when he’s trying to dodge an argument before it starts. But you know Pete. Promises like that mean nothing when there’s pride and reputation on the line, and with Pete, there’s always pride on the line.

So when you heard about the fight outside the pub last night, you weren’t surprised. Disappointed? Yes. Furious? Definitely. But surprised? Not in the slightest.

You didn’t see him get home, but when you woke up this morning, he was sprawled on the sofa, one eye already bruised and swollen, lip split, knuckles raw and red. He looked almost proud of himself, like a kid showing off a trophy.

You didn’t say a word.

“Morning,” he said, voice hoarse but upbeat, like nothing was wrong. “You alright?” Nothing. Not a glance, not a word. You walked past him, grabbed a cup of tea, and sat at the table without so much as looking his way.

He clocked it immediately. “Oi, what’s this then?” he called, half-laughing, half-confused. When you didn’t respond, he pushed himself up from the sofa with a groan and shuffled over to you. “What’s your problem?”

That did it. You slammed your mug down, spilling tea across the table. “My problem, Pete, is that I told you not to go out looking for a fight, and what do you do? You get into it with another firm! Do you know how stupid that was? How dangerous?”

Pete winced, more at your tone than your words. “They started it—”

“Oh, don’t give me that shit!” you snapped, cutting him off. “You’re not a bloody child, Pete! You don’t have to rise to everything, every time someone calls you out. You promised me!”

He looked at you then, really looked at you, like he was trying to figure out whether it was worth arguing back. But Pete being Pete, he couldn’t help himself. “What was I supposed to do, eh? Let them take the piss? Let them walk all over us?”

“Yes, Pete! You were supposed to let it go, for once!” you shouted. “But no, you had to go prove you’re the big man. And now look at you! Battered, bruised, and who knows what kind of heat you’ve brought down on yourself—on us!”

His jaw tightened, and he crossed his arms, but he didn’t say anything. That was the thing about Pete. He was quick to fight, quick to defend his pride, but when it came to you, he struggled.

“I’m done with this, Pete,” you said, standing up and brushing past him. “I’m done trying to talk sense into you when you don’t listen. You want to get yourself killed? Fine. But don’t expect me to stick around and watch.” Tears streamed down your face.

You didn’t slam the door on your way out. You didn’t have to. The silence you left behind was louder than anything you could have said.

Pete didn’t follow you. Not right away. But you know him. He will. He always does. Because as much as he loves the fight, as much as he loves the firm, there’s one thing Pete Dunham can’t stand, and that is losing you.

The streets outside were cold, the December air biting against your face as you walked aimlessly, trying to cool down. Pete’s face—his smug, infuriating, battered face—was burned into your mind. You couldn’t understand how someone could be so careless, so reckless with their life. With yours.

You headed toward the park, the one place where you could think clearly. The trees were bare, their branches tangled against the pale sky, and the paths were quiet save for the occasional jogger or dog walker. You sat down on a bench and ran your hands through your hair, trying to push the anger aside, but it wouldn’t go. Not completely.

You weren’t just angry; you were scared. Pete acted like he was untouchable, like he could take on the whole world if he had to. But he wasn’t untouchable, and you’d seen too many fights end with someone in a hospital bed—or worse. Pete might think he was invincible, but you knew better. And the thought of losing him…

No. You wouldn’t let your mind go there.

You heard footsteps before you saw him, heavy and deliberate. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. “Figured you’d be here,” Pete said, his voice quieter now. He didn’t sit down right away, just stood there awkwardly, hands stuffed in his pockets like he wasn’t sure if he was welcome. “You always come here when you’re hacked off.” You didn’t answer. He let out a heavy sigh, then finally sat down beside you. Not too close, but close enough that you could feel the heat of him, the tension in his body.

“Look,” he started, his voice low, “I know I messed up. I know I shouldn’t have gone looking for trouble. I just… I don’t know how to let it go, alright? When someone’s in my face, calling me out, calling us out… It’s like this switch flips, and I can’t stop myself.”

You turned to him then, meeting his gaze for the first time all day. His face was a mess—his swollen eye looked worse in the daylight, and there was a cut on his cheek he hadn’t even bothered to clean properly. But it wasn’t the injuries that got to you; it was the way he was looking at you, like he wanted to say something more but didn’t know how.

“You think that’s good enough, Pete?” you said, your voice sharper than you intended. “An apology after yo did it? What happens next time? What happens when you’re not so lucky?”

He flinched at your words but didn’t look away. “I don’t know…,” he admitted. “But I don’t want to lose you. I mean it. If this is gonna be a problem—if I’m gonna keep screwing things up—tell me what to do. Tell me how to fix it.”

You shook your head, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. “I can’t tell you how to fix it, Pete. You’ve got to figure that out for yourself. But I can’t keep doing this—worrying every time you walk out the door, wondering if tonight’s the night something goes wrong. I can’t live like that.”

He was quiet for a long moment, his jaw working as he tried to find the right words. Finally, he said, “You’re right. I don’t know if I can change overnight, but… I’ll try. For you, I’ll try, I don’t wanna lose you.” It wasn’t much, but it was something. And coming from Pete, it was everything.

You nodded, not ready to forgive him completely but willing to give him a chance. “Alright. But if you ever pull something like this again, I’m done, and I mean it, Pete.”

He nodded, his expression serious. “I get it. No more fights. Scout’s honor.” This time, his grin didn’t annoy you. Not entirely.

[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.”

[vinnieswife]

Pete Dunham’s materialist!

☼ —> angst

⭑ —> smut

- Football girl

- Tutoring class

- Patching him up after a fight

- Lazy mornings

- Pete headcannons

- Silent Treatment

- Girlfriend?!

- Meeting his mates

- “It’s bloody obvious”

- “glad you got ‘em framed”

- “my birthday is not a big deal” -“Yes it is!”

- slang class

- Crew cut

- Scars

- The look of love

- West Ham win! ⭑

- Babysitters

- Grading pete’s students

- family dinner

- teaching you how to drive

- the proposal

- big announcement

- baking cookies

- i just thought of you

- photo booth

- shopping with pete

- “yes mom”

- “how do you put up with him?”

- the letters that never came ☼

[vinnieswife]

Tutoring class

highschool! tutor! Pete dunham x highschool! reader

words: 510

author’s note: highscholl one shot, you ask Peter to help you with your statistics exam…

You didn’t expect to end up in Pete Dunham’s flat on a rainy Wednesday night, but there you are, sitting cross-legged on his worn leather couch, textbooks spread out on the coffee table in front of you. The soft hum of West Ham highlights plays on the muted TV in the corner, casting flickering shadows across the room.

“You’re never gonna pass if you keep staring at that book like it’s written in bloody Greek,” Pete teases, dropping next to you with that signature cocky grin. He’s dressed casually — a fitted West Ham tee stretched across his broad chest, his jacket tossed carelessly over a chair.

“I’m trying,” you protest, running a hand through your hair in frustration. “It’s just… statistics make no sense, I am a history girl, I don’t need this bullshit.”

Pete chuckles, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Alright, let’s break it down. You’re making it harder than it is.” His voice is low but confident, grounding you like always. He’s surprisingly good at this, he is being so patient with you, explaining things in a way that makes sense and doesn’t make you feel stupid.

You try focusing on the notebook, but it’s difficult with Pete so close, his voice warm and steady, his scent, wrapping around you. His hand brushes yours as he flips the page, and you can’t help but notice how strong his fingers are, calloused from years of fights and football.

“You with me?” he asks, raising an eyebrow when he catches you staring.

“Mhm?… yeah, I’m with you… yeah.” you manage to say coming back to your senses, cheeks flushing.

He smirks knowingly but doesn’t say anything, just leans back, stretching his arms across the back of the couch. The room feels smaller somehow, charged with something unspoken.

“You’re tense,” he remarks, a faint smirk on his face as he watches you closely. “Relax… It’s just me.”

The way he says it, like being with him is the most natural thing in the world, makes your chest tighten. Before you can second-guess yourself, you shift toward him, your knees touching his thigh.

“Maybe I need a break,” you suggest softly your gaze lingering on his features.

Pete’s eyes search yours, amusement flickering behind them, but there’s something deeper too. Slowly, his hand grazes your jaw, rough and steady, tilting your face toward his.

“You sure about that, mhm?” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin.

You nod, and then his lips are on yours, firm, urgent, but careful in a way you didn’t expect. The world outside seems to vanish, leaving only the heat of his touch and the electric pull between you. His hand slides to your waist, anchoring you against him as your fingers gaze his short hair.

When you finally break apart, breathless and dazed, Pete presses his forehead against yours, smiling that cocky, irresistible grin.

“See?” he murmurs, his thumb brushing your cheek. “Told you I was good at teaching.”

You laugh, your heart pounding, already thinking that maybe studying statistics isn’t so bad after all, at least not when Pete Dunham is your tutor.