#pete dunham x reader

[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.

---

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 had 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.

---

Please consider reblogging and leaving a comment if you enjoyed this story! 💗

If you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist please comment or send a DM.

Taglist:

@theesirenteller @inbar-thomas1980 @lilac13 @stealfromthedevil @ramadiiiisme @rhoorl

#pete dunham #green street hooligans #pete dunham smut #pete dunham x female reader #charlie hunnam #charlie hunnam characters #pete dunham x reader #green street hooligans fic #pete dunham fic

[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

#Sp's fluffiest Smutfest #green street hooligans #pete dunham #pete dunham x reader #pete dunham smut #pete dunham x you #charlie hunnam smut #charlie hunnam fanfiction #charlie hunnam #charlie hunnam imagine

[charliehunnamsgf-character-ai]

PETE DUNHAM || I just watched green street and…

#character ai #character ai bot #x character #x reader #x yn #green street hooligans #pete dunham

[theesirenteller]

[Master list credit @cafekitsune]

Hey loves; You can call me Siren. I'm currently twenty-four and I'm a Leo. I'm merely here to publish my daydreams about fictional hotties & talk shit about canon.

I do not write for x reader, I'm not good at it, sorry. I do not write for x male or with male OCS. I also do not write for celebrities. Only fictional men & women. All stories are made with a women of color as the main character.

Rio 💗 Good Girls.

Mayans.

┇Coco Cruz 💗 ┇

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

Embry Larkin 💗 Abandon.

Pete Dunham 💗 Green Street Hooligans.

Will Miller 💗 Triple Frontier.

King Arthur 💗 King Arthur; Legend Of The Sword.

Dwayne, Micheal, and Paul 💗 Lost Boys.

Rafe Cameron 💗 Outerbanks.

Elite

┇ Ander 💗 Rebeka 💗 Gúzman 💗 Christian 💗 ┇

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

Johnny Tuturro 💗 Graceland.

#theesirentellerstories #theesirenteller fanfic

[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! 🤗💖

Masterlist

Tag List – Join Here!*

*If you’re unable to use that link to join the tag list, just let me know and I’ll manually add you to it!

@itsme-autumn @rebelwrites @happyhenners @band--psycho @witching-hour @est11 @edonaspanca @ughdontbeboring @neverland14353 @starbooty @coffeequeenxx @innerpaperexpertcloud @i-love-scott-mccall @six-camelot @alexa-rae-dreamz @justme2042 @awesomenatalia @auroraariza @rochyu @coffeebooksandfandom @inlovewithcharliehunnam @turner-cris @thesuicidalflower @chrmdnbeautiful @xladymacbethx @holl2712 @snow-white-74 @moonlight-fern @stitchesbystults @lilacyennefer @magic-room @sunflower12335 @trishmarieofficial @smoochesfroggos @o0idk0o @beth-winchester21 @flaireandsynch

#charlie hunnam #pete dunham #green street hooligans #charlie hunnam smut #charlie hunnam imagine #charlie hunnam fanfiction #charlie hunnam x reader #charlie hunnam x you #pete dunham x reader #pete dunham x you #pete dunham smut #pete dunham imagine #pete dunham fanfiction #green street #hooligans #green street hooligans imagine #green street hooligans fanfiction #green street imagine #green street fanfiction

[laurfilijames]

Like My Dreams

Part 1

Intro

Pete Dunham Masterlist

Pairing: Pete Dunham x female reader

Words: 4.8k

Warnings: Mentions of a broken leg, use of crutches. Bruises and cuts. Swearing. Alcohol consumption and use of pain medication. Discussions of fighting.

Summary: Life is getting back to normal for Pete, including going back to work and participating in his first scrap since almost getting killed, and little does he know that an unexpected person is going to step in and show him that while football is life, there may be more to life than just football.

After moving home to help your sister with your nephew, Jack, after her divorce, you meet his bruised, but gorgeous teacher, and later discover you're connected in more ways than one.

A/N: Part 1 is here!! Pete deserves the world and I'm using this fic as a way to rebuild his for him.

---

"Have you heard from the Yank at all, there, Peg Leg?" Swill asked through a grin, ducking when Pete raised his arm up in an attempt to hit him.

"Aye, I'll beat you with my crutch, you cunt," he threatened, turning away for a split second before making a quick jab at his mate with the proposed weapon, making Swill jump and spill his beer. "And yes, I have. Turns out our Yank mate has sought his revenge and managed to get a recording of that geezer Jeremy admitting he put the blame on him, so he's right back into Harvard now and will be graduating soon as."

"Ahh, result!" Swill cheered, clanking his glass against Pete's before extending his arm out to cheers with Ned and then Ike.

"Gonna be a proper Journo now."

"Good on him," Ike nodded.

"Yeah, yeah. Says he's planning a visit back across the pond soon as he's done," Pete explained.

"Oi, when are you going back to work, Pete?" Dave asked, handing him a fresh pint before taking a sip of his own.

Pete took a long drink, tilting his head to the side and shrugging slightly as he swallowed his beer. "Soon, I hope. Apparently the little lads have been giving the substitute a right time. I already had to go in and give 'em the what-for…tell 'em to be nice while I'm away."

"Bloody buggers," Dave sighed, shaking his head.

"Told them I'd taught them better than that." Pete took another sip, wiping his mouth with his hand. "Their response was that they wouldn't have to be such shits if she wasn't such an old, miserable cow."

"Yeah, there's no doubt you're their role model, then eh?" Dave laughed.

Pete shrugged in agreement, finding no point in arguing.

"Once I get out of this cast I can go back in," he explained, turning and leaning his back against the bar. "I'm itching to get back to it, but more just to get out of Steve and Shannon's place."

"That bad?"

He sighed, choosing his words carefully, "Shannon is being nice to me for the first time ever, but they fuss constantly. It'll just be nice to go home."

"Yeah, all in time, mate." Dave clapped his shoulder, happy Pete was being cared for and wasn't spending the long days of recovery alone.

There were days his leg ached like hell, and after ditching his crutches about a week ago, Pete sometimes wished he still had them to lean on. He sat on the edge of his desk, reading out loud to the class from there rather than pacing through the desks like he had been, his limp becoming more and more noticeable with each step, but despite the pain from the long days of being back on his feet, he was grateful to be back in his classroom with life pretty much back to normal.

Being back in his flat helped with his overall recovery too, having felt desperate to get out of Steve and Shannon's stuffy place and in the familiar comforts of his own, having appreciated time spent with them and his sweet nephew Ben, but ultimately relieved to relish in the peace and quiet.

The bell rang, signaling the end of their school day, and Pete marked his page and closed the book, glancing at the clock in slight disbelief that the day was already over.

"Okay, boys, we'll pick up there tomorrow," he announced, collecting some papers on his desk as his class packed up their notebooks and began filing out of the room. "And remember your assignments are due on my desk first thing Tuesday morning, so get cracking on them!" he shouted over their excited voices, some of them moaning in disappointment over their homework.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket to see a text from Bov confirming their plans to meet at the pub later for beers, and excitement buzzed through him knowing that in two more days, West Ham was playing Manchester at home. The two firms hadn't seen each other since the GSE surprised them at the station and embarrassed the hell out of them, and word was that they were gunning for a comeback more than ever. Pete knew he would have to be careful, but the thought of getting back into fighting and experiencing that rush as his firm kicked the shit out of the other's whose bruised pride had never recovered from the last time made him feel like he was close to invincible.

"I don't know why you keep eating it, then, Bov," Pete scolded, walking through the doors of The Abbey with his mate who kept going on about his sore stomach, unable to help the laugh at his expense as he watched him hold his gut and beeline it right for the toilets.

"What's the matter with him?" Dave asked, nodding in Bovver's direction as he struggled to get by other patrons.

Pete shook his head and sighed, "Bloody guy insists on ordering the hottest curry going and then fucking complains about his insides turning as soon as he's stuffed it down."

"He'll never learn, will he?"

"Nah, serves him right," Pete chuckled, clanging his glass against Dave's after being handed it.

"I don't know about you boys, but I am more than ready for the weekend," Ike said exasperatedly, "work has been kicking my ass."

"You best be rested up for our big event on Saturday…" Dave warned, earning a scoff from him.

"Yeah, yeah, you know I'm good for it. When have I ever let us down?"

Dave opened his mouth to quip at him, but started laughing when Ike shoved his arm and directed his attention to Pete. "What about you, eh? You feeling up to it?"

"Mate," he said pointedly, his eyebrow raised, "more than I ever have." Pete grinned, knowing each of them would be keeping extra close watch on him despite him feeling like no one would be able to knock him to the ground.

"I've been trying to get Fiona down here for some drinks," Swill started to explain, "her bestie is here staying with her for a bit and said they were looking to go out on the pull-"

"Aye, I'll show your sister a good time," Ned interrupted, causing Swill to glare at him seriously.

"Don't you fucking think for a second you're gonna touch my sister."

Pete laughed into his beer, listening to the two of them carry on until Keith interrupted them.

"Isn't she the hot one that moved away a few years back?"

"Yeah, that's the one," Swill confirmed.

"Oi, she's fit as fuck," Ned chimed in, making a crude gesture with his hands.

"She's here helping her sister out with her nephew or something, I dunno," Swill nonchalantly explained. "I keep telling her that Fi's place is too cramped and she should come stay with me."

"In your dreams!" Pete laughed, "Poor girl would be traumatized if she spent more than five minutes with you."

"Yeah, well, you'll just see when she comes 'round, eh. I'm very charming when I need to be."

"The only charm you're going to have is when you're helping me kick the snot out of Manchester's top bloke." Pete wrapped his arm around Swill's shoulders and necked the rest of his pint, the exhilaration of the upcoming match and fight already tingling through his veins.

"Fucking right, mate!" Swill cheered, patting Pete on the back aggressively to help pump him up even more.

Saturday turned out to be one of the best days Pete could remember having. The Hammers won 2-0 and him and the boys made the ruck afterward almost look too easy, but it didn't go without it's evidence.

He looked at his bruised reflection in the mirror, having missed seeing various shades of red and blue marking his face, his skin tender as he pulled the razor down over it before rinsing it off under the tap. He smiled to himself in thinking a clean shave would make up for his appearance when he showed up to school that morning, the colours even more pronounced than they were yesterday, having already earned glares from other staff members as he walked through the hallways to his classroom. The little lads always got a kick out of seeing their teacher's battle wounds unlike the Headmaster, but Pete still did his best to set a good example for them and prove to everyone that even a Weekend Warrior could maintain his professionalism. Pete winced when he went over a cut on his cheek, making blood spring from it again, and washing the remaining shaving cream off his cheeks and chin, he dried his face and went through to his bedroom to get dressed.

"Have a good day, Jack!" you smiled, watching your nephew climb out of the back seat of your car, thinking how dapper he looked in his neatly ironed school uniform and finding how he styled his hair with a bit of gel too sweet. He was growing up so quickly, ten going on fourteen it seemed like some days, and despite the circumstances, you were grateful to be around him more. There was no doubt that the split between your sister and his dad was tough on him, but overall he seemed to be coping okay, and you hoped a small bit of it was because his one and only amazing Aunt was there to help look after him. Part of your designated duties were to drop him off and pick him up from school and football practices, your work hours more flexible and easier to line up with his activities than your sister's, and it was the least you felt you could do to help out.

"Thanks, Auntie."

"You've got your football gear, right?" you called out through the passenger window you quickly rolled down before he got too far from the car.

"Yup," he confirmed, holding up his cleats and giving his backpack a shrug to keep over his shoulder.

"Okay, then, I'll see you at half four when practice is over. Maybe we'll go grab a bite and see a film?"

He scowled, "The match is on tonight!"

You raised your hands in mercy, "May the football gods forgive me!"

It earned a laugh from him, making you smile, the little 'see ya!' he gave you as he turned and ran off toward the building enough to make your Tuesday feel a little less mundane.

Glancing out of the corner of your eye at the backseat as you reached for your purse, you did a double-take, noticing Jack's lunch bag and homework left forgotten on the seat.

"Shit!" you hissed before giving a long sigh, looking out the window for any sign he was still around.

He was long gone into the school now, forcing you to switch your car off and take it inside, and you trotted down the pathway quickly in your heels so as not to be late to work yourself.

Something had cheesed-off the secretary already this morning, and with little to no help from her, you took it upon yourself to wander down the hallways in search of Jack's homeroom.

"You alright there, Jack?" Pete asked, passing out a worksheet on each desk, his concern growing after noticing the sulk on the boy's face. He looked like he was about to cry, having finished rooting through his bag for the second time since he'd gotten into class, clearly searching for something that wasn't there.

"I don't have my assignment." There was so much defeat in the poor kid's voice, and Pete couldn't bring himself to be cross with him even if he wanted to be.

"It's alright, mate, you can hand it in tomorrow."

When that didn't seem to ease his troubles over it, Pete crouched down beside his desk, his leg complaining as he did.

"You did do it, yeah?"

"Yes," Jack confirmed, his disappointment not fading. "I think I left it in my Aunt's car."

"Right, then there's nothing else to be done about it for now, eh? Mistakes happen, I won't knock any marks off for it."

"I forgot mine, too, Mr. Dunham," the boy sitting behind Jack called out.

"No you did not, Louis," Pete said through a wince as he stood. "The only thing you forgot was to actually do it."

Louis, along with all the other boys, laughed, the kid being famous for never handing in anything on time or simply neglecting to do half the assignments tasked in the first place, his admission not coming as a surprise to Pete.

About to explain the instructions on the pages he had just handed out, Pete was interrupted by a light knock and the door opening, making all of them pause to look at the slightly embarrassed, but extremely beautiful woman who was disrupting their class.

"I'm so sorry," you began, smiling in your bashfulness. You looked directly at Jack, making Pete swivel on the spot he stood on to follow your gaze before looking back at you with a big grin on his face, watching as you held up a folder containing what had to be his forgotten assignment.

"Looks like you've got yourself a guardian angel, mate," Pete smirked, limping over to the door where he opened it more for you.

You apologized again, but somehow couldn't wipe the smile from your face as you got lost in Jack's teacher's vibrantly blue eyes, the colour seemingly enhanced and appearing almost fake due to the reddish bruises that surrounded them.

"Don't give it another thought," he assured you, looking back at you with a similar amusement before reaching his hand out to take the folder decorated with West Ham United stickers from you.

More bruises and cuts decorated his knuckles, making you wonder what the hell this man got up to when he wasn't teaching your nephew, and you made a mental note to ask Jack questions about it all later.

"You've forgotten your lunch, too," you spoke, peeling your eyes away from the man who made butterflies flutter violently in your stomach. Jack trotted up to the front of the class where you stood, taking the bag from you sheepishly.

"Jack, you're a very lucky lad," Pete began, moving to perch on the edge of his desk. "I don't have anyone bringing me my lunch if I've left it."

You shrugged and nervously tucked your hands in the pockets of your jacket now that they were free, biting your lower lip to try to stop yourself from smiling more.

"I won't take up anymore of your time," you said to the impossibly handsome teacher, maintaining eye contact with him as you took a step backwards toward the door, praying your feet didn't betray you. "Sorry, again, for the disruption."

"Not a problem at all," he said slowly through another bright grin, his head tilting curiously as he crossed his arms over his chest while you walked through the door, closing it behind you.

The second it latched you heard the entire class erupt in a long 'ooooooo', jeering their teacher as any group of ten-year-old boys would for talking to a girl, making you smile even more when you heard him shush them and chuckle lightly before continuing on with his lesson.

10:47 Fiona: We're going to the pub tonight.

10:49 You: …

10:49 Fiona: I said, we're going to the pub tonight. That's an order.

10:51 You: Fine.

10:51 Fiona: Don't be mardy. We need to get out of the house. I promise to show you a good time.

10:51 Fiona: Plus, there's a match on, so it'll be full of fit lads.

10:52 You: Is that really your main selling point?

10:52 Fiona: Yes. We'll see which of us can get the most free drinks.

11:09 Fiona: I'm taking your silence as a yes.

11:09 Fiona: Maybe you'll even get a snog or a shag in the toilets!

11:17 You: I swear you're a bigger perv than your brother.

Tucking your phone back inside your desk drawer, you bit the inside of your cheek and sighed out deeply, trying to regain concentration on the computer screen in front of you, but it was helpless. All you could think about was the fraction of a possibility of seeing Jack's teacher there, the teacher whose name you didn't even know, out of the simple fact that he probably spent his time outside of school in a pub watching football as most men did. Even if he did happen to be in that exact pub, in that exact part of London, on that exact night, the chances of him being there without a woman, or many, hanging off his arm were slim. Maybe he was even engaged or married, happily at home on a Tuesday night with his missus…

Regardless of your speculations, you continued to think of the way he had looked at you, letting this silly and unexpected fantasy get the better of you, recounting every moment of your meet-cute and how unbelievable it would be to find yourself tangled up with the likes of him. Had you exaggerated the glint in his eyes and the brightness of his smile, or how he made your whole body tingle with that nervous-excitement enough to feel like you were floating?

With another sigh, you willed yourself to get a grip, needing to get something accomplished in your workday, the chances of seeing him outside the school slim.

Still, a girl could dream, and smiling to yourself, you secretly thanked your friend for her persistence in taking you out.

Several very distracted hours later, you pulled up beside the pitch outside the school, seeing a small mob of boys in various coloured jerseys running around it, and your eyes immediately found and fixed on the tall coach that was unmistakably the same man who had occupied your mind all day.

You sat for only a couple of minutes before their practice was over, watching the banged-up teacher with a hitch in his step walk around collecting pylons while the boys ditched their jersey's into a bag and started to clean up their belongings piled near the fence.

Jack ran to your car even though his bags were far too heavy for him to be, and seeing how sweaty he was along with the muddy stains covering his gym gear, you wondered how many of these pick-ups it would take until your car began to smell like gross footy equipment.

"How was it?" you asked when he hauled on the door and threw his stuff in, flopping himself into he back seat before shutting the door and putting on his seatbelt.

"Good. Thanks for bringing my assignment, you're a legend."

"Don't I know it," you winked at him, taking one last look over at his teacher who just so happened to be staring at you, and you felt yourself flush from head to toe as you tore your gaze away from him and blinked into reality, putting your car in gear and driving off.

You were quiet for a couple of minutes, debating quizzing your nephew about his teacher, and ultimately decided there was no harm in it.

"Does your teacher always show up with bruises on his face?"

Glimpsing in the rearview mirror, you saw Jack smile. "Mr. Dunham? Yeah, most of the time."

"You're acting like that's a normal thing, Jack," you laughed, "Why is he always battered?"

"He's a Hooligan, so yeah, it's normal."

"A Hooligan?”

"In a footy firm?” he emphasized in the form of a question, like it was the most obvious thing. “Yeah. West Ham’s, obviously."

You nodded, trying to wrap your head around the information you were getting. You knew of the firm because of Fiona, having heard the odd thing about it through her because of her brother Swill, but the ins and outs of football were something you didn't pay much attention to anymore. You weren't even sure if Swill was still a participant of the barbaric side of football, assuming he might have given up his hooliganism in exchange for his respectable career as an accountant.

"Mr. Dunham's the coolest. He's everyone's favourite teacher. A lot of grown-ups and other teachers think he's bad or whatever, but he's the nicest out of anyone and is really smart, too," Jack went on, pulling you out of your thoughts for a moment. "I want to teach history like him when I grow up. It's my favourite subject."

"Well, then, I'm sure glad I brought in that assignment for you."

"Yeah, I was real upset that I forgot it. I want to keep my grades up in his class."

It was incredible to hear your nephew talk like this, finding a role model in someone so unconventional, but seeing as his father wasn't really one to look up to, you figured it was good he found someone who inspired him.

"Right, my man," you announced, parking in your sister's driveway. "Enjoy the match! I hope they win!"

"Mr. Dunham says they will for sure. Birmingham doesn't stand a chance!"

"Well good, because even I am going to watch it tonight!"

Jack pulled a shocked face, "You're gonna watch football?"

"Yes! Cheeky…"

"Make sure you cheer for the proper team!" he laughed, tugging on his West Ham shirt to show you the crest. He closed the door after taking out all his things and ran up to the house where he stuck his tongue out at you from the porch, making you laugh and shake your head.

"Want another one, Pete?" Bovver asked, nodding to his empty glass that had been drained for a while now.

"Nah, man, I'm good. Gotta be sharp for work tomorrow."

"Since when?"

Pete glared at his mate, not wanting to get into too many details, the truth behind his reduced consumption of pints being he had just taken some pain pills on account of his leg. He had done his best to cope with it, but after running around too much at practice he had to give in, needing something to help take the edge off.

"Oi, Fi's on her way over," Swill said, sitting down beside Pete.

"Oh, tonight? Sweet," Pete said, curious to see who her friend was and if she was actually as fit as the other guys kept claiming she was.

The Abbey was packed by the time the game started with the GSE dispersed throughout to watch on the various screens hung on the walls and above the bar, Pete sticking to their usual spot in the back corner where less people were gathered.

He spotted Fiona making her way through the crowd, judging by her tipsy smile and half-finished pint that she had already been here for a decent amount of time, the atmosphere of the whole place very rowdy as the Hammers maintained a lead.

"Pete!" she called, nearly pushing someone down to get to him to give him a hug.

"Aye, aye!" He stood and accepted her embrace, unable to recall the last time he had seen her.

"How are you doing? You gave everyone quite the scare!"

He chuckled, "Yeah, all good. I'm doing fine now, thanks, Fiona." He took his seat again and looked up at her with a smile, watching as she clapped her hand on her chest.

"What a relief, you should've seen how gutted they all were. Swill was beside himself."

"As they should've been!" he laughed, spinning his empty glass on the coaster. "You enjoying the match?"

"Wha- oh! Yeah," she laughed, her smile somehow larger than her brother's, "I'm not paying all that much attention if I'm honest!"

"I can tell!"

She shrugged and took a long sip of her drink, glancing around the bar.

He nodded at her, his brows knitted, "Where's your friend?"

"Hell if I know! Somewhere over there," she waved, motioning in the direction of the pool table, "Ned and Swill are chatting her ears off."

"Sounds about right…"

Pete settled into his seat and drew his focus back to the match as Fiona went and greeted someone else, but he'd be kidding himself if he pretended his thoughts weren't constantly on you, unable to get you out of his mind for even a second. He wondered if he would be lucky enough to see you again; if Jack would just so happen to forget something on a weekly basis and if you were going to be the one consistently picking him up from school and football practice, or maybe even be the guardian he would get to sit down and discuss Jack's grades with at parent-teacher interviews.

But it was rare for lightning to strike twice.

The Brigid Abbey Pub itself was incredibly charming, even if most of the people occupying it were far less so. Swill was the same as always, never changing his lewd, loud ways despite being forced to be well-mannered and respectful throughout the day, but it was rare that anyone had ever made you laugh as hard as he did. His mates were all there, most of them hanging around where you and Fi were, but mentions of someone named Pete and his whereabouts kept coming up.

You found yourself taking in your surroundings more than the game itself, looking at all the plaques and paraphernalia that hung on the walls, all while scanning the crowd in hopes of spotting the one person you somehow felt desperate to see again.

"Who are you looking for?"

"Hmm? What? No one," you lied to Fiona, though very unconvincingly.

"You spotted a fit bloke, didn't you?" she said with a grin that rivaled Swill's.

"Yeah, me," Swill chimed in, causing Fiona to talk back to him about being gross and them to start bickering as they usually did.

They always managed to make you laugh, and you had to admit you were having a better time than you thought you were going to, enjoying the company of your bestie and her brother, who's mates were exceptionally kind and welcoming.

It wasn't until you overheard a couple of them discussing a fight they had had that you really started paying attention to what was happening around you.

“Wait, are you still part of all that?” you asked Swill, grabbing his arm to make him turn around to face you.

"For life!" he exclaimed, "I'll be dead before I leave it."

"Yeah, well, some of you are making that come true more than others," Fiona scoffed.

You screwed up your face in complete bewilderment, "Wait. What?"

"The head of the firm," she began explaining, "their mate, Pete, nearly died about four months ago in a fight. He's just been back to work the last few weeks and everything. It’s a complete miracle he's even alive."

"Jesus Christ," you muttered. "And he still fights?"

Ike huffed out a laugh before turning serious, "Oh, fuck yeah…like nothing ever happened."

The rest of the lads all excitedly started recalling how intensely this Pete had fought the other day, going on about how their fearless leader was back and stronger than before.

"Is he here?" you asked, wanting to meet this death-defying prodigy of England's roughest unofficial sport.

"'Course he is," said Ned, "he's sat over there in his usual spot." He nodded toward the back corner of the pub, and standing on your tip-toes, you attempted to see over the hoard of heads between where you were and there, but it was impossible to manage.

It was almost hard to believe that these men, who held regular jobs and had seemingly normal lives, still carried on the insane, delinquent habits of the firms brought on from decades prior, and even more so that after one of them was nearly killed, they continued on with more pride than ever.

The match ended in a win for the mighty Hammers, the high spirits of their dedicated supporters lingering on in the pub, helping to keep Pete going despite being the most sober one of all his mates. As the groups of people started to thin out, he was finally able to spot where Fiona and the rest of them had been loitering, his eyes trained on one person in particular.

His heart hammered in his chest as he downed the rest of the beer he had been nursing, praying for the slight nervousness he felt to calm.

"Well, fuck me," he murmured under his breath, standing from the table where he left Dave asking him what he was on about and where he was going.

Not bothering to ease his friend's mind with an explanation, Pete slowly made his way through the crowd, almost afraid that if he moved too quickly, the scene he was walking toward would vanish from his sight like a mirage.

A grin that met his eyes crept up his lips, thinking that maybe dreams didn't fade and die and it was possible that lightning could strike twice after all.

---

Part 2

Taglist:

@stealfromthedevil @inbar-thomas1980 @theesirenteller

If you would like to be added to the taglist for this series or any others, please comment, send an ask or a DM! 💗

#pete dunham #green street hooligans #charlie hunnam #charlie hunnam characters #pete dunham x female reader #pete dunham x reader

[laurfilijames]

Like My Dreams

Part 2

Pete Dunham Masterlist

Intro Part 1

Pairing: Pete Dunham x female reader

Words: 5.3k

Warnings: 18+. Swearing. Alcohol consumption. Use of pain medication. Mentions of fighting/violence/hooliganism. Sexual tension/alluding to oral sex. Car accident resulting in a concussion, broken ribs, cuts/bruises. Mentions of stitches.

Summary: The days that followed meeting Pete consist of a blur of exciting moments of getting to know each other and growing feelings, and just when things start to really develop between you, a wrench is thrown in to disrupt it all but also drives home how precious life and love are.

A/N: Not much to say other than my love for Pete grows every day along with my drive to give him the justice he deserves! Comments and reblogs are much appreciated!! This film has a very small fan base so I'd love to chat with anyone who enjoys it as much as I do 💗

---

Pete Dunham.

The name turned over in your head again and again as he walked toward you, his limp less noticeable in his slightly cocky strut, and you nearly asked Fiona to pinch you in order to help you comprehend the reality of this.

Your eyes locked with his as soon as you noticed him, your surprise at seeing him there dressing your face, and you could easily see his own shock at you being Fiona's friend quickly morph into amusement.

"Well, look who we have here," he drawled. "I've either died and gone to heaven or someone is taking the piss."

You tilted your head, "Why would that be?"

"First of all, you show up in my class, and now you're standing in my pub. I already cheated death once, so I really can't figure out how else I'd be seeing you twice in one day."

"Is that a bad thing?"

He flashed you that same smile you had been picturing all day and shook his head slowly back and forth, "Oh, no."

"Good."

You could feel everyone else's eyes on you, watching the exchange between you and him, and yet all you could focus on were those blue eyes that seemed like they were staring into your soul.

"So this beautiful woman is both one of my student's aunts and Fiona's best mate?" he asked, to no one in particular.

You nodded, confirming his inquiries while chewing on your lower lip.

"Fuck me," he muttered under his breath, the simple but fully-charged words making you shiver.

"And you're not only the beloved Mr. Dunham, but also the infamous top bloke of the GSE?" you asked, finding your voice.

His eyebrows raised high on his forehead, "Have you been asking about me?"

"I might've been."

He let out a sort of growl and licked his lips, "Well then, I guess there's no use in denying any of it."

His hand was now outstretched between you, allowing you a better look of his long fingers than you had this morning, noticing the middle one was adorned with a gold ring, wild thoughts of how they might feel against your skin causing you to hesitate while he stood waiting for you to make contact in a handshake. You did so assuredly after taking a steadying breath to regain your composure, the confidence you seemed to radiate while being in his presence like nothing you had experienced before.

You gave him your name as your hands lingered, the tone of your voice holding onto something low and lusty, "It's nice to officially meet you, Pete."

The way you looked at him and the sound of his name falling off your tongue made him want to crash into you and kiss you right then, and although he was confident you would've welcomed it, he took a deep breath and willed his patience to come through.

Setting his empty glass on the bar, he declined another with the shake of his head when Terry offered a refill, turning his attention immediately back to you after disrupting it briefly. There weren't many times in Pete's life that he had turned down pints, and even if he hadn't taken a pain pill earlier, he still would refuse drinking another one, the thought of clouding this euphoria he felt in seeing you again something he wouldn't be able to forgive himself for. The high he was experiencing beat any scrap or victory by the Hammers, and he silently vowed to give it all up tomorrow and be sober as a judge if it meant living and breathing the same air as you.

The endless days spent alone in his hospital bed gave Pete more than enough time to assess his life and think about his future, something he never really paid any mind to aside from when the next match was and who him and the boys would be up against, but those lonely moments had brought on a harsh realization that maybe he was missing something. He often envied seeing families pass by his room with arms full of gifts and treats to help their loved ones feel better, his smile fading as he grasped the fact that no one other than his brother and his mates occasionally stopped by to check in on him and make sure he hadn't done a runner, but he was grateful he even had that. With their dad long passed away and their mum living too far to warrant frequent visits, Pete began to consider what it would be like to have someone else in his life who cared about him, someone who could fill the space in his heart that up until then had been occupied solely by football and all the senseless nonsense that came along with it.

Those curiosities only increased when he was dismissed and staying with Steve and Shannon, having watched them rekindle their love for each other carefully and tenderly; her decision to stay and make things work solidified when the second Dunham brother had found his life gripped tightly in Death's hands.

He had promised himself that he would make it all count now, not wanting to waste the time that was given to him, and after meeting you he knew he wasn't going to let anything good slip through his fingers.

"Can I take you out sometime?" he suddenly blurted, the question tumbling out of his mouth on its own accord.

The gorgeous smile that seemed like a permanent fixture on your face grew while his did the same, and he felt his heart hammer in his chest as a fury of nerves burst through him as he waited for your answer to his question that now seemed completely mental.

"Yes," you giggled, your disbelief clear by the shake of your head and raise of your eyebrows. "I would love that."

Pete let out a nervous laugh and ran his hand over his head, the rush of relief and excitement he felt making him almost dizzy as he glanced around at the humored faces of his mates standing around him.

"Sweet," he said, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as he turned his focus back to you. "Is tonight too soon?"

Reluctant goodbye's were finally said after you exchanged phone numbers with Pete, having Fiona essentially drag you out of the pub behind her, finding you were unwilling and nearly unable to peel yourself away from Pete.

He was incredibly charming and sweet, and you struggled to push down the feeling in your stomach you were certain that you had never felt so intensely before.

Fiona sighed dramatically as the door of the pub slammed shut behind you, her exasperation only fuelling you to smile even more.

"You two!" she cursed, grabbing your arms and shaking you as you lifted your hands up to your face to cup your own cheeks as you began laughing.

"My cheeks hurt!"

"No bloody wonder," she said with the roll of her eyes. "You've been grinning like a loon all night!"

Fiona released her grip on you and began walking in the direction of her house, leaving you standing looking at the door, half tempted to go back inside.

"Don't you DARE make me regret this!" she hollered, prompting you to move your feet and follow her down the road.

You ran a few steps to catch up, linking your arm in hers to help you keep in time with her quick and determined pace.

"Oh, come on, Fi! Besides, we met each other first without anybody's assistance," you reminded her, thinking back to hours ago when Pete looked just as heavenly in the morning sun shining through his classroom windows as he did in the dim light of The Abbey.

"Swill is gutted," she said dramatically.

You tapped her arm with your hand, "Oh, stop! He is not! Nothing has even happened…" you trailed off, thinking of all the things that were hopefully going to happen.

"The church is booked and the cake is being made as we speak. Oh! And listen…" she paused, stopping in her tracks and putting her finger to her ear, "There's the wedding bells…"

A week had passed since meeting Pete, those seven days filled with a joy you couldn't recall having experienced to that extent, each moment spent with him blissful and ecstatically happy.

Pete had an exuberance about him that was truly infectious, reflecting onto you and anyone around him like a drug, his liveliness noticed by everyone.

You admired him now, watching as he laughed with Terry, sharing a joke that made his lips spread so wide on his face that his cheeks creased the way you had quickly discovered you loved.

Beer spilled over the side of the pint glass as he handed it to you, the warmth of his fingers contrasting to that of the beer as they brushed with yours, his blue eyes alight with the same vigor that showed in his smile.

"Cheers, babe," he winked, clinking his glass with yours hard enough it made even more beer splash off the top of it and down his hand, his eyes still fixed on you as he brought it up to his mouth and licked the mess off his skin with a broad sweep of his smooth and incredibly alluring tongue. It was like he knew everything you were thinking, the mischief in his eyes confirming that this move of his was a subtle tell of meaning more, and flashing you another playful wink, he glanced up to the screen with the match on, making your heart flip in your chest and leaving you aching to discover everything his mouth was capable of.

So far it had all been just like this; hanging out at The Abbey with him, the lads and Fi, slowly getting to know each other amidst the normalcy of the GSE's scheduled meet-ups, your heart growing its affection toward him the more you were in his presence.

"I'd love to go one day," you shouted, loud enough Pete would hear you over the busy crowd surrounding you.

Shock, and mostly amusement crossed his features, his eyes twinkling while his lips curled into an even bigger grin, the stretch making the cut on the lower one split open and start bleeding again.

"You've never been?"

"To a West Ham match? No!" you returned his smile, unable to help yourself. "My uncle is an Arsenal fan. I've been to one game in my whole life."

Pete looked at you with astoundment, an exaggerated expression that bordered on being genuine dressing his gorgeous face.

"Tell me you're not a Gooner…"

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, ignoring the inquisition, unsure if being an Arsenal supporter out of default was worse than not paying attention to the sport hardly at all.

"He brought me once because I begged him! He was so nervous about taking me because it was too dangerous…thanks to hooligans like you!" You touched his arm flirtatiously, feeling his muscles flex while he watched you with an expression you couldn't place.

"One game?"

You nodded, taking a sip of your beer.

He licked his lips, increasing your ache for wanting to do that yourself, glancing up at the telly before back at you.

"Right, we're going Saturday."

"Really?"

"Really."

He held your gaze for a beat, making your heart feel like it stopped completely, and you dared to bring your hand up to his face, using your thumb to swipe away the blood that clung to the corner of his lip.

Pete hung his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side, the temptation he felt to kiss you making him feel antsy enough he had to take another long drink of his pint to distract from it.

Everything buzzed around you.

It was unclear if it was because you were with him, or it was just the enthusiasm of the stadium that had you feeling this way, but it felt like the most exciting thing you had ever been a part of as you walked down the concrete steps to the GSE's designated seats.

"Can I at least buy the beers after?" you asked, feeling slightly guilty in knowing how much these boys forked out for the seats.

Pete laughed heartily, "Fuck, no! You're my date! I refuse to let you pay for a single thing when this was all my idea."

He smiled at you before looking out onto the pitch proudly, allowing you another chance to admire him just as you did any other time the opportunity arose, his features something you swore could have been sculpted by Michelangelo himself.

"Besides," he grinned, "It's Swill's turn to buy all the rounds after the game…"

"'S not!" Swill shouted, his scowl making Pete's grin shine even more, his pleased chuckle at riling up his mate mixing in with the noise of the crowd.

An argument broke out between Swill, Ike and Dave about who owed what in terms of beer and exactly how many rounds were left unsettled, leaving you and Pete to lose yourselves in each other, leaning in close to talk, the start of the match very unimportant as his hand rested on your thigh and his gaze lingered on your lips.

With the Hammers having won, everyone was in bright spirits, and you knew as you walked through the congested crowd with your hand entwined in Pete's that you would've felt the same even if they had lost, the charged glances he was continuously flashing sparking the growing need inside you to uncover all the pleasurable things that were possible.

The two of you lagged behind while the other boys walked on ahead in the direction of the pub, allowing softer moments shared without notice, Pete pausing in his confident strides to search your eyes with his vibrantly blue ones while his smile split his face.

"Did you have a good time?"

"I did," you assured, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

"No dangerous hooligans to scare you off?" he teased.

"Not a single one…"

His laugh turned into a sort of growl as his own lip tucked in his teeth, his head turning in the direction of his mates before whipping back to you.

"You sure about that?"

You nodded. "I'm not scared, Pete…"

He was about to kiss you, leaning in to dip his face beside yours, until Swill's voice echoed through the tunnel and stopped him in his tracks.

"Oi! Fuck head! 'S your round, Pete, ya cunt!"

"Fucking Christ…" Pete muttered, pulling away from you reluctantly. "I may kill him one day."

You laughed, causing his frustration to grow into a chuckle, and he grabbed your hand and started walking again, nodding in the direction of the others with another beaming smile.

"Come on."

It had been three days since last seeing Pete, the amount that you missed him equalling the excitement you felt about seeing him tonight when you would go out on your first 'proper date' as he had called it.

Everything was up to him when it came to the plans, the only thing revealed to you so far that he was taking you to a lush Italian restaurant he had made reservations at, and that he was picking you up from Fiona's at seven.

Butterflies had made themselves busy in your stomach since the moment your alarm woke you up, and as you drove Jack to school now, they increased even more in knowing there was a small chance of seeing him outside as he went into work.

"Are you coming for tea tonight?" Jack asked, his hopeful voice making you feel guilty before even telling him no. "Mum's making that chicken dish you love so much."

"Ahh, of course she is! But sadly, I can't tonight, little lad," you gently explained, pulling up to a traffic light. "I'm actually going on a date…"

Your words trailed off as you glanced in the rearview mirror at him, waiting for his reaction, which came as you had expected in the form of a disgusted scowl.

"A date? Ew!"

You laughed as you looked back at the road, lifting your foot off the brake and onto the gas pedal to start accelerating as the light turned green, appreciating your nephew being in this stage where boys and girls still viewed each other as gross.

"Oh, come on!" you pleaded. "I think you'd like him…"

He scoffed and looked out the window as you peeked at him again briefly.

"Better be a West Ham supporter…" he muttered.

You bit your lip. "Oh, he is, don't worry!"

You debated telling him that his beloved teacher was your date, not wanting him to feel awkward or have it change his opinions on him, but sensing how well things were going between you, Jack was going to find out eventually anyway.

Opening your mouth to admit your little secret, your words were cut off as a car slammed into the side of yours, a gasp being forced out instead as all the wind was knocked out of your lungs, the sound dying in the deafening noise of metal crashing together and tires screeching on asphalt.

Your body was jostled violently, your head smacking hard against the window and then into the deployed airbag that felt like hitting a rock, hearing yourself desperately scream Jack's name before everything was dark and silent.

Consciousness returned to you briefly, your body overcome with pain as it slowly registered in your brain that struggled to comprehend what was happening, your head throbbing and feeling like it had been split in two.

All you could hear through the sound of a consistent, blaring horn was Jack crying, his sobs ringing in your ears in a piercing and terrified way that had you trying with all you had to turn around in your seat to get to him.

Sharp pain shot through your entire right side, making you black out again, the sound of your name being screamed in the petrified and pained howls of your nephew the last thing you could comprehend.

A nauseating grogginess filled you as you slowly opened your eyes, hearing the low hum of a machine and a soft, but incessant beeping that seemed to come from everywhere around you at once, the recollection of the accident barrelling to the forefront of your delayed mind as panic and worry threatened to make you ill.

"Hey, hey, you're alright," Pete's soothing voice greeted you, the worry in his blue eyes as he stood beside your bed outshining the look of comfort he was attempting to give you.

"Jack?" you croaked, looking at him desperately, immediately needing the answer to the question you couldn't even form.

"He's fine," he assured, his long fingers wrapping over your hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Just a bit banged up and scared, but he's good as."

Pete smiled gingerly at you as your body sank back into the bed, hot tears rolling down your cheeks uncontrollably, the relief you felt battling against the guilt and fault that filled you at having put your nephew in danger.

"'S alright…" he cooed, a pain filling his eyes at seeing you hurt and upset, his thumbs carefully moving up to your face to wipe away your tears that ran through the dry blood speckling your skin.

Your head tilted into his palm, embracing the closeness and warmth of him, feeling yourself calm slightly as he brought his forehead down to rest against yours, his exhale blowing on your lips that were wet from the stream of tears making you let out your own steadying breath.

Pete could barely stand it, the worry and heartache that grew to be ruthlessly persistent tearing through his entire body from the moment he found out about your accident, and even though he knew you were okay, it lingered with as much intensity that it had started out with.

All he could think about was how close he had come to getting everything he had dreamt of, only to have it almost be ripped away from him in a matter of seconds.

The lump in his throat threatened to give way as he sat there with you, hoping to convey everything he felt for you without actually saying it, reminding himself that you hadn't even officially established any sort of relationship.

"I'll go get Jack for you then, yeah?" he whispered, peeling himself away from you reluctantly. "He's been gunning to get in to see you."

You nodded and used your own hands to clear your tears this time, hoping you looked somewhat presentable given the circumstances and not banged up enough to scare him even more.

"Don't worry," he said with a smile, "he's already seen you through the window, refused to rest until he saw for himself that you were alright."

Pete stood from the chair that he had scooted to be as close to the bed as possible, that familiar, cheeky look appearing on his face as he added, "You're still gorgeous as ever. Plus, I think the cuts and bruises are sexy."

He winked at you before he turned and exited the room, leaving you alone for a moment that had you instantly wishing for him to be back with you.

A smile broke out on your face as you listened to them approach your room, their banter making you laugh despite it hurting to do so.

"Mate…you're mental if you think for a second that your bruises look harder than mine," Pete teased Jack.

"Nuh uh! Look at this one! And this cut needed ten stitches!" Jack bragged as he pointed to various wounds on his arms and face, his pridefulness in his injuries telling you he was truly okay.

"Yeah, yeah, tough guy," Pete jokingly waved off, opening the door to your room to let Jack burst through it at a run. He slowed when he reached you, reining in his excitement so he didn't hurt you, giving you a once-over as he tried to decide whether or not it was okay to hug you.

"Come here," you softly ordered, opening your arms to welcome his small frame.

He carefully brought his body against yours, his arms wrapping around your neck rather than your torso, burying his head into your neck where you kissed his hair and then ruffled it with your fingers, the gratitude you felt to be able to hold your sweet nephew making you choke up again.

Jack was crying too, his body moving with each sob, him answering every repeated apology that spilled out of your mouth with a squeaky 'it's okay'.

When he eventually pulled himself away from you, you looked at him with a smile, fixing his hair by brushing through it with your fingers.

"How cross is your mum with me?"

Jack laughed and shook his head, "She's not. She's been crying the whole time being so worried about you."

You nodded, knowing if you spoke that your words would come out shaky and weak, needing a moment to take in the battered face of the boy who had stolen your heart from the second he was born.

“You look like you've been scrapping with the GSE,” you complimented, watching him light up at the thought of it.

Exhaustion took over you quickly, the visit with Jack soon followed by your sister sucking what little energy you had right out of you, and once the doctor had been in to explain your injuries and their severity to you, you were completely drained.

A concussion and three cracked ribs were the worst of your wounds, the rest consisting of bumps and bruises amongst cuts that had appeared in your skin from shards of glass slicing through it, all adding up to result in you having to stay for at least another day for monitoring.

Pete came back into the room after the doctor had left, wanting to see you one more time before the last minutes of visiting hours had run up.

“How d’you feel?” he asked, taking his seat again in the chair beside you and leaning close, automatically reaching out to hold your hand.

“Tired. Sore. Overwhelmed,” you paused and looked at him seriously, “Like I was hit by a car.” You said it with a strained laugh, but it quickly died out into a sigh, the pain caused from it reminding you of what else was causing you grief. “Mostly disappointed…”

“Disappointed?” Pete echoed, his brows knitting together.

“Our date…”

He hummed, bringing your entwined hands up to his lips where he ran them over your knuckles back and forth.

“I was really looking forward to it,” you murmured, an overall sinking feeling coming over you.

“Me too,” he admitted. “But I promise you that I will make up for it a million times over once we’re able to.”

“I'll hold you to that, Mr. Dunham.”

He grinned at you confidently, shifting in his seat to sit back in it a little straighter.

“Speaking of…Jack had a lot of questions as to why I was here.”

You nodded, tucking your lip in your teeth as you looked down at your hand still being held in his. “He asked me, too.”

“So, Mr. Dunham is your boyfriend?” Jack asked with a twisted face.

“Not my boyfriend…but who I was going on the date with. We've been hanging out a bit.”

He was quiet for a minute, clearly processing the news.

"Look, Jack, if that makes you uncomfortable I don't have to see him, he's your teacher-"

“Are you gonna get married or summat?” he blurted, cutting you off.

You didn't know how to respond, your head pulsing with every thought that passed through it, the pain medication not helping you articulate things easily.

"I- no?"

Jack smiled, the awkward mix of baby and adult teeth on full display always making you love to see it more.

"I'd be okay with it."

Pete caught your smile as you recalled your earlier conversation, his own grin spreading out to crease his cheeks despite not knowing the reason behind yours.

“What's got you smiling like that?”

“Nothing,” you fibbed. “Just something Jack said. He's quite pleased about this.” You motioned between you and Pete with your finger, the morphine in your veins nearly making you bold enough to tell him exactly what was said.

Giving you a suspicious look, Pete was about to open his mouth and respond with what you knew would be something cheeky, only to be interrupted by a nurse knocking on the door and striding into the room on a mission.

“Visiting hours are up,” she announced, glaring at him before turning her attention back down to your chart.

Pete raised his eyebrows at her, but chose not to make any remarks, standing up with a sigh. “Right. I'll be back tomorrow then, yeah? Bust you out of here.”

He winked when the nurse shot her head up, clearly unimpressed by his intentions even if it was a joke.

“You don't have to-”

“Bollocks. Anything you need you just ring me, yeah?”

He dipped down close to you, his brilliantly coloured eyes searching your features with the same seriousness that showed in them earlier. “You sure you’re going to be alright?”

“Yeah, I’ll be okay,” you said, although with little surety. “Thank you, Pete.”

The look you gave him made him want to fight in order to be able to stay with you, the memories of his own experience of being stuck and alone and in pain in this same hospital striking a nerve in him, but he knew there was nothing he could do to get his way and accepted the defeat.

“‘Course, darling,” he whispered, pressing his lips to your forehead where he let them linger. “Get some rest, eh. I'll see you tomorrow.”

Pete stepped into the hallway and rested his back against the door after it closed behind him, shutting his eyes and exhaling a deep breath. As much as he hated being back here, having to relive every horrible moment spent confined in the small walls of the room that had been his home for many excruciating months, he would return day after day for you until you were able to be released.

He zipped his jacket up to his chin and pushed off the door, preparing himself to brace the brisk, night air when he got outside, praying you would be well enough to go home tomorrow.

It terrified him a bit to feel as strongly for you as he already did, an anxiety he hadn't ever felt so intensely settling in his chest like a knot since he got the call from Fiona that you had been in an accident, but Pete knew that he would take this worry any day as a consequence of caring for someone this much.

Steve and even the lads would probably tell him he was rushing into things, to take it slow, but after today he refused to waste another minute of the second chance he was given not letting his heart have the things it had missed out on up until now.

The sliding doors opened and he passed through them into the fresh temperature, taking a deep breath to try to rid his lungs of that medicinal, stale hospital air, instantly feeling revived despite there being various people standing outside the entrance smoking.

His body felt achy and stiff, his limp ever-present as he began walking in the direction of his flat, becoming aware of how tense he had been all day, his stress coming to show with each step.

He had to smile though, thinking of how good it was going to be when he could finally take you on that date, a million ideas of how he could spoil you rushing through his mind.

His phone rang in his pocket, making him pause in his uneven steps to pull it out to quiet the chimey ringtone, answering a call from Swill.

"Aye, aye," he answered solemnly, his usual upbeat tone absent in his greeting.

"You coming for a pint?"

Pete winced, hesitating in his answer, contemplating how he felt.

"Nah, mate, I don't think so."

"Come on! It's Friday night, you wanker. You could use a beer after today."

Pete chuckled lightly, "Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm just knackered, mate. Gonna call it a night and try to get back to the hospital at a decent time tomorrow."

"Yeah, alright. Fi said she's going first thing and hopes to bring her home."

"I bloody hope so," Pete said quietly and mostly to himself.

"You alright, Peg Leg?" Swill asked, a rare seriousness sounding in his voice.

"Brilliant…" he huffed. "Just a bit worried, yeah?" he admitted, kicking a stone with his pristinely white trainers before he continued walking.

"Rightly so, mate. We all see how you feel 'bout 'er, clear as day."

Pete smiled despite feeling on the verge of cracking, the pressure building behind his eyes becoming too much too suddenly that he rubbed them aggressively with his finger and thumb to try to wane it away.

"She'll be alright, Pete…" Swill filled the silence, having sensed the reason behind him being so quiet.

"Yeah, she will be."

"You know where we'll all be if you change your mind, eh?"

"Yeah, mate, thanks."

"See you tomorrow."

"Yeah, cheers."

Pete let his phone snap closed and tucked it back in his pocket, the heaviness of how precious and fleeting life was weighing on him, each uneven step reminding him of the near miss he'd had to never experiencing something like this and solidifying that he wasn't about to let a good thing slip through his fingers.

---

Part 3

Taglist:

@stealfromthedevil @theesirenteller @inbar-thomas1980 @lilac13

#pete dunham #green street hooligans #charlie hunnam #pete dunham x female reader #pete dunham x reader #green street hooligans fic #pete dunham fic #charlie hunnam characters

[laurfilijames]

Like My Dreams

Part 3

Pete Dunham Masterlist

Intro Part 1 Part 2

Pairing: Pete Dunham x female reader

Words: 5.4k

Warnings: 18+ only. This is not smut yet but ohhh we're close! Swearing. Alcohol consumption. Sexual tension. Steamy make-out sesh and partial nudity. Dry humping. It's just so fluffy and romantic.

Summary: You and Pete are finally able to have your date, making up for lost time while hoping it stands still so you can indulge in the excitement of the start of your relationship.

A/N: I will continue to shout from the rooftops my love for this hooligan until the end of time and now I'm making it your problem. I've had two songs inspiring me for this portion of the story so please have a listen to help set the mood of the chapter.

---

"Eh, Ned, what's that pasta recipe you're always going on about?" Pete asked, straddling the stool as he sat down with a fresh pint.

"Easy, mate," he shrugged, popping a handful of peanuts in his mouth before listing off a slew of ingredients used to make his pasta that they all fought for leftovers of, Pete scribbling notes down on a napkin.

"...tomatoes, then some fresh basil…"

"Wait, hang on…"

"Add in the cream, but after the sauce has simmered, you don't want it too hot when you add it in-"

"I said, hang on!" Pete shouted, finding himself frustrated by how loud the others were being as he was trying to get everything down.

"Nah, mate, you've got to save some of the water from the pasta after it's boiled instead of cream," Swill chimed in, obnoxiously leaning over Dave to get his advice in.

An argument broke out between Ned and Swill over the best way to make the sauce, leaving Pete to sigh out of disbelief at how something so simple could go so awry when it came to his friends, and he looked at Dave exasperatedly for help, opening his hands so his palms faced upward in defeat.

Dave shook his head and smirked, leaning closer so Pete could hear him over the chaos, a heated debate whether canned or fresh tomatoes were better the current topic causing the scene.

"A little bit of both, mate, makes the sauce nice and silky and helps bind it together. Clair swears by it."

He knocked his glass against Pete's and took a long drink of his beer before helping him complete his list of ingredients and recipe to follow, allowing Pete to feel more confident about making sure this meal would be perfect.

The plan was for you to come over to his the following night, a way to make up for the missed date due to your car accident, wanting to stay in since you still weren't feeling completely back to normal from your injuries despite it having been nearly two weeks since it happened.

"You excited then?" Dave asked, catching Pete lost in his thoughts.

He grinned, "Yeah, mate. Really looking forward to it." Pete spun his glass on the lacquered table, unable to stop himself from grinning even more.

He had seen you briefly over the span of your recovery, visiting as much as he could, but now that you were on the mend and starting to feel more yourself, the anticipation of finally having that official date with you had him buzzing.

"So, how did you…know?" he asked Dave, rubbing his hands on his thighs before returning them to the table to fiddle with the paper peeling at the edge of the Foster's coaster he'd been working at for hours now.

"Know…?" Dave questioned, his brows knitting as he took a drink, not breaking eye contact with Pete.

Pete sighed and gestured as if his question was the most obvious thing, making Dave nod and quickly swallow his beer.

"Oh!" he choked. "Know? Yeah, I mean, it sounds cliché, but you just…know."

"So that's how it was with you and Clair?"

Dave nodded, his smile big and genuine. "I immediately knew it. It was different."

Pete hummed, looking up at the telly.

"You think it is then, eh?" Dave nudged his arm.

"Yeah, mate."

"Pleased for ya, mate, I really am." Dave smiled. "Don't hold back on it either."

Pete nodded, knowing he wouldn't, not after life had nearly left him without the opportunity to find love at all outside of football and his firm and feeling more than ready to go all-in on it.

Pete's Saturday had been spent shopping and cleaning, prepping all his supplies for the full Italian dinner he was preparing for you while frantically making sure his mangy flat was looking as good as it could, his usual contented feelings toward it replaced by an inadequacy he rarely experienced.

He debated untacking the West Ham United flag from the wall that he had made when he was about eight years old, the juvenility of it screaming at him each time he passed it, ultimately ignoring it altogether as he got distracted in tidying his poor excuse of a kitchen and attempting to organize the chaos that was his record and book collection that had been shifted into piles around his coffee table rather than their rightful places on shelves.

His heart stopped each time his phone vibrated with a text, assuming it would be you canceling because you weren't feeling well enough or something else finding its way in to disrupt your date again, only to breathe a heavy sigh of relief to see it was one of the lads.

Hours passed, and finally he was beginning to prep dinner, wanting most of it done so he would be able to spend as much time focused on you as he could, but also abiding by your wishes to help him cook as you had insisted on wanting to do the last time he spoke with you.

A knock on his door stopped him from chopping garlic, smiling as he wiped his hands on the tea towel sitting on the counter and walked through to answer it, turning down the volume on his record player as he passed.

"Hiya, gorgeous," he greeted, his smile stopped from spreading across his cheeks when he took in the sight of you, biting his lip instead. "Wow!"

"Hi, Pete," you purred, your voice making him thrum with desire.

He stepped out of the way to let you inside, his eyes locked on you the entire time, watching your own smile grow as it was clear you felt him admiring you.

"What?" you asked, peeling your jacket off and handing it to him as he held out his hand to take it.

He frowned and shook his head. "Nothing," he lied. "You just seem to get more beautiful each time I see you."

"You saw me four days ago."

"And you got more beautiful since," he whispered, leaning in close as he reached behind you to hang your coat on a hook amongst his own on the wall nearest where you stood.

"It smells incredible in here," you complimented, referring mostly to his cologne that made you feel a different sort of hunger, needing to speak in order to distract from the tension that hung between you, the yearning to kiss each other heavy in the air.

"Thanks," he smiled, strutting over to the small kitchen, stirring the beginning of what was the sauce in the pan.

Pete absentmindedly whisked as he looked at you looking around his flat, no longer feeling nervous or ashamed about having you here thanks to your genuine curiosity in his space and things, your presence in his home and amongst his belongings seeming so perfectly natural and effortlessly comfortable.

You loved it from the moment you stepped a foot inside; his flat homey and welcoming, filled floor to ceiling with all the things that held importance to him and helped make up who he was.

West Ham paraphernalia was scattered everywhere, alternating between band posters and shelves and cabinets containing CD's, books and records, the little spaces left fitting in the necessary everyday items, making it clear what held the most importance to him.

Your fingers slid across each record as you scanned over his collection, reading the familiar names of all the same bands you loved and had listened to your whole life, the edges of each sleeve worn from use and time.

"A lot of those were Dad's," he explained, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

You turned your head to look at him, a sort of solemn expression present on his face.

"Steve was pissed that he'd left them all to me, but they wouldn't have gone with that wanker's stuffy, modern decor," he laughed. "It's been close to twenty years, and I still feel close to him whenever I play them."

"That's really nice, Pete," you said, smiling at him before stepping over to one of his book shelves, stooping and tilting your head to see the titles. You pulled one off the shelf and flipped through it, the musty scent a welcomed one, and your heart swelled when you came upon his notes scribbled across some of the pages. Tucking it back in its place, you breathed in and continued to look around, admiring the varied compilation of things accumulated over the years that told the story of him and put on display a physicality of his personality, his character portrayed in all the words in those books and lyrics in the music he listened to.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, watching you from across the counter that he leaned against.

"Hmm? Yeah," you replied, your answer somewhat distracted as you were lost thinking about how perfect he was and how you longed to know everything about him. "Is there anything I can help with?"

Pete frowned and shook his head, unfolding his arms from his chest as he stirred the noodles floating in the bubbling water. "Nah, you're alright. You just stay there and continue to give me something nice to look at."

The wink he shot you went straight to your core, finding yourself unable to do as you were told as you slowly made your way around the counter and into the kitchen with him, standing as close to him as you could get. You picked up the bunch of fresh basil sitting beside the bowl of freshly grated parmesan and began to carefully tear each of the leaves into small pieces, the fragrant herb mixing in with the intoxicating smell of garlic and tomatoes, your arms brushing against each other as you both worked.

"I'm happy you're here," Pete whispered, glancing over at you, licking his lips while his blue eyes held an intensity you hadn't seen in them yet.

"Thank you for having me."

You hadn't noticed your hands halting in their duty, letting the leaves you held fall onto the counter as you turned your body to face Pete while he did the same.

The brightest smile spread across his cheeks, his hands reaching up to cup your face, and still smiling, he leaned into you and gently met your lips with his, a light chuckle sounding from him as he kissed you.

You couldn't stop the soft moan that passed through your mouth as he continued to tease your lips with his, carefully exploring and tasting and feeling you against him, the dizziness you felt when you closed your eyes and let yourself melt into the moment not on account of your lingering concussion.

Pete inhaled deeply, his fingers tightening their hold on your cheeks ever so slightly as he breathed you in, deepening his kiss before pulling away.

The way he looked at you as he licked his lips had you wanting to feel his tongue against yours again, but seeing his satisfied and entirely sweet smile made you hesitant to want to miss such a view in exchange for his craveable kiss.

"I couldn't wait to do that," you admitted, your tone breathy.

He smirked, his thumbs grazing your skin as his gaze dropped to your mouth, "Me neither."

Pete flicked the burners off on the stove and gave the sauce a quick stir before turning his attention back to you.

"Now forgive me, because I don't think I'll be able to stop."

It was your turn to smile and laugh as he captured your lips with his again, more boldly this time, your hands roaming his body as his wrapped around your back and pulled you closer into him.

"That was by far the best pasta I've ever had," you praised, taking a sip from your wine glass as Pete stood and collected your empty plates, his strut full of confidence as he took them into the kitchen.

"Yeah?"

"I mean it! Thank you."

"My pleasure," he winked, returning over to the table where he braced his arms on it, leaning down to kiss you slowly and sensually.

Reluctantly, he pulled away from you, standing tall while he tucked his bottom lip between his teeth and nodded over to his sofa, holding his hand out for you to take as you stood from your seat.

"Oh, I love this song," you said excitedly, hearing "In My Life" by The Beatles start to play, making Pete stop in his route and turn to look at you curiously.

"Do you?"

"Mhm…" you hummed, nodding as he faced you and smoothed his hands up your arms.

"Dance with me," he requested, slipping his hand into yours as his other landed on the small of your back, allowing you to happily step closer to him and rest your head on his shoulder. He swayed on the spot with you, the focus of your dance not on moving too much but rather to feel each other and have an excuse to be close, the sound of his heartbeat sweeter than the song could ever be.

The two and a half minutes seemed to fly by faster than usual, disappointing you slightly when it ended and the next tune began, but like Pete sensed your disappointment and felt the same, he kissed your forehead before releasing his hold on you and went over to the record player, moving the needle to start the track over.

He walked back over to you and wrapped you in his arms again, holding you tighter and closer than before, his forehead resting on yours as he resumed moving in subtle motions. You tipped your head so your nose brushed along his jawline, inching your mouth closer to his where he graciously accepted your offer and parted his lips for you.

Sighing into his mouth, your hands traveled up his back and into his hair, the buzzed cut of it feeling incredibly soft and almost velvety on your palms, and with each pass of your tongues and brush of your lips, you sank further and further into your growing feelings for him.

Every part of you that his hands and mouth touched sparked with electricity, leaving a reminiscent tingle that you swore you would be able to feel for days after, and with your dancing having been abandoned now for the duration of the song plus another, you thought how stopping yourself from kissing him was going to be impossible to do.

Pete briefly paused the movement of his lips, peeling himself away from you to guide you over to the sofa, sitting on it with his legs spread wide as he looked up at you adoringly, his thumbs rubbing over the tops of your hands that he still held.

You freed your hands from his, gently carding them up the column of his neck to his jaw, watching him close his eyes as he relished in your touch, bringing your face down to press a kiss on his perfect lips again.

Letting your hands fall from his cheeks down to his shoulders, you used him for support as you straddled his lap, eliciting a low groan from him as you seated yourself on his groin, his mouth flying to meet yours enthusiastically in response.

Your breath shook out of your lungs when you felt his cock hardening against you, the noises that spilled from his mouth into yours encouraging you to grind and rock lightly as you kissed each other harder, your hands tearing along his toned upper back and up over his head, raking your fingers carelessly through his hair.

"Pete…" you murmured, losing yourself in the euphoria of this, his lips marking a trail along your jawline and onto your neck, his teeth nipping and grazing your skin that caused goosebumps to erupt on you from head to toe.

He loved the sound of his name coming off your lips half as much as he loved your smell and taste, and a desperate feeling to discover all of you overcame him, his breathing ragged as everything began to intensify.

Time passed by without notice, the record that had been playing stopped long ago, the only sounds filling the quiet of his flat those of your wet lips eagerly meeting and your panting breaths. Your quiet moans and whimpers were driving him mad in the most craveable way, something he would endure endless hours of torture in order to hear, feeling constantly torn between wanting to take things slow and giving in to every desire that roared in him.

Aware of your healing injury, Pete carefully slipped his hand under your shirt and ghosted his fingers along your waist, feeling you contract slightly and press your mouth harder on his. Worried he had hurt you, he went to move his hand away, only to be stopped when you grabbed it and placed it back on your tender ribs, silently granting him permission to continue, your trust in him to treat you delicately coming off loud.

Slowly, and with a small wince, you lifted your arms above your head, allowing him to pull your shirt off, his hands smoothing over your warm, soft skin after tossing it somewhere on the floor.

His lips found your collarbone, kissing across it and onto your shoulder, then slowly back again where he caressed up your neck, his nose brushing along lightly as he drank you in.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, his lips moving on your skin when he spoke.

The way Pete made you smile was unimaginable, and even in this tender and intimate moment, you couldn’t help yourself, feeling radiant in his worship of you.

He placed another kiss on your neck before glancing up at you, seeing you beaming, his seriousness replaced by joy the second he saw your face.

Your arms wrapped around his neck and squeezed him close, giggling when he rubbed his face in the crook of your neck, his own laugh resounding against you.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been happier, Pete,” you whispered, your smile fading as you took one of your hands and touched his lips with your fingers, your eyes focused on every little detail of his face. The scars on his cheek and right eyebrow where the hair refused to grow back, faded bruises and the mole on the left side of his face between his nose and mouth, the bleached stubble that had been working its way up through his skin after a couple of days of being left unattended; all things that made him the gorgeous man he was and that you would never tire of seeing.

His eyes closed as he relaxed to your touch, his head tipping back slightly, allowing you an even better view of his perfect features. Blond eyelashes danced on his cheeks while you traced your fingertip down his nose and into the crease that flanked his mouth, over his bottom lip to the other side where you matched the same pattern, his deep sigh blowing out on your hand.

There were moments Pete could've sworn he actually had died, that there was no possible way things could be this perfect and the only answer for it was that he was either dreaming or in heaven, proving to him there was no such notion as hell existing.

This was one of those moments.

Your hands smoothed up his chest, parting his shirt where the buttons that held it together had been undone, his heart racing the longer you made contact with his bare skin.

As much as he wanted to have all of you tonight, he was desperate to savour every moment and experience you little by little, falling more in love with you with each kiss and caress, content in waiting to get to the sex if it meant prolonging all of this.

His mouth kissed along your shoulder, pushing the strap of your bra down as he went, his hands occupied by slowly rubbing your back and bum.

It was difficult to control his breathing, his lungs filling and emptying quicker than normal, feeling completely intoxicated and worked up the more he attempted to keep calm.

He wanted to taste and smell each part of you, committing it to memory so even when he wasn’t with you he could recall it, the sweet flavour of your skin making his mouth water as it transferred past his lips and onto his tongue.

“Fuck…” he muttered, his growl restricted in his throat, his spit smearing across your shoulder as he moved his mouth over to your neck.

The soft whine of his name echoed in his ears as it spilled from your beautiful pout, drawing him into reality where he peeled himself away from you enough to look at you as he leaned his back against the sofa.

He licked his lips, watching as you carefully finished removing the straps of your bra down your arms before reaching behind you to unhook the clasps, his heart hammering in his chest while more blood rushed to his throbbing cock.

It was hard to remember having anticipated anything more, time standing still as an anxious energy filled him, waiting with shattering patience as you slowly peeled your lace bra away from your chest and exposed yourself to him.

Swallowing thickly, he admired you for a moment, bringing his hands up to hold your face and pull you into him, meeting you in the middle where he claimed your mouth with a loving demand.

Shivers erupted down his spine when you tore his shirt off his shoulders, and he hurriedly assisted in tugging his arms out of the sleeves in order to get back to grasping onto you, the heat of your skin radiating onto his palms.

You broke the seal of your lips so you could see him, Pete smiling faintly as he allowed you to, your fingers brushing over his chest where his West Ham tattoo was etched proudly.

Your hands slipped up his neck and onto his face, bringing yourself closer to him again with an arch of your back, your lips crashing into his in a heated kiss, your torsos flush to one another.

The sensation of your bare skin against his was euphoric and more proof that this was too good to be true, your hard nipple and soft breast gliding along the claret red, pale blue and gold crest inked into his pec seeming incredibly erotic and visceral, your body melting into his.

Minutes that turned into hours ticked by like this; you sitting firmly on his lap, languidly grinding yourself against him while you kissed until your lips were made raw, causing Pete to become an addict, the thought of letting any amount of time between his next fix of you unbearable.

He was in love and he knew it, his heart beating with yours in a steady thrum that he had never experienced before, the wonder of you so new yet so familiar he could hardly wrap his head around it.

The contentment he felt in simply kissing you and discovering all the intricate details of your body was awe-inspiring, his patience to wait and indulge in exploring everything about you a contrast to what usually happened; rushing to scratch an itch with someone he wasn’t even fussed over, each meaningless shag a quick fix out of convenience more than anything else.

His lips and fingers took turns skimming over your form, floating over your collarbone and chest, brushing gently enough it filled you with an ache for more, your pleas coming out in needy moans and shuddering breaths.

Aware it was late but unsure of exactly what time of the night it was, Pete hoped you were also happy to ignore the clock and everything else that would serve as a distraction from each other, wanting you to stay in his arms for as long as he could possibly have you.

He smiled when you seemed to be reading his mind, your lips moving against his cheek when you spoke quietly.

“I don’t want to go home,” you admitted, the way you whispered it revealing your hesitation in doing so.

“You don’t have to,” he offered, looking up at you with all the adoration he held for you in his heart, feeling a sense of nervousness drum in his chest at the prospect of you staying the night.

“You sure?”

“Stay with me.”

Pete let out the breath he had been holding when you smiled and tugged your bottom lip in your teeth, nodding excitedly while shifting on his lap, your arms linking around his neck. He flashed a crooked smile, feeling his eyes brighten amidst everything else in his body, chuckling slightly as he leaned into you for another kiss while your fingers raked another path through his short hair just as they had countless times already.

You eventually made it into his bedroom, opting for the comfort of his bed rather than his sofa, your arms and legs tangled in a mess as you continued to kiss and cuddle until your lips stopped their movements and sleep took over.

Even though it had only been for a couple of hours at most, you woke up feeling rested and elated, being in Pete’s arms while wearing one of his jumpers and only your panties the perfect way to slowly wake, knowing you wanted to start each day just like this from now on.

You risked disturbing him by touching his lips, carefully tracing the borders of them as he slept, feeling desperate to feel them against you again despite having had them grace nearly every part of you all night.

You yelped when Pete suddenly chomped at your finger, his laugh sounding out through the otherwise quiet of the room as he rolled overtop of you, caging you in under his body. His face dug into your neck, kissing and aggressively rubbing his stubbled cheeks and chin against your sensitive skin, tickling you enough he had you squirming beneath him and laughing hysterically.

He stopped his attack, his laugh dying out into a smile as he peered down at you, his hand reaching up to your face where he trailed his fingers across your cheek lovingly.

“Morning, sunshine,” he purred.

“Good morning, Pete,” you greeted quietly, admiring the way his blue eyes lit up even more at the sound of his name.

“I quite like having you in my bed,” he said pointedly, his fingers plucking at the material that covered your otherwise bare skin. “Wearing my jumper…”

“I hope you know how happy I am to be here.”

He smiled bigger and leaned down to kiss you once, then twice, before pulling away with a small growl out of restraint.

“I do know it.”

“Good.”

Pete met your lips again, forcing the grin on your face to fade out as you became consumed by the feel of his tongue moving against yours, his lips pressing into yours eagerly.

Before getting carried away, he stopped, biting his lip to help prevent himself from crashing into you again, pulling himself off of you with a groan.

“I’ll make us a brew, yeah?”

“That sounds perfect.”

You happily watched as Pete strode through the room with as much confidence as ever, admiring the way his track pants hung low on his hips, a glance back over his shoulder accompanied by a cocky smirk making you melt into his sheets even more.

Returning a few minutes later with two West Ham mugs in hand, Pete kneeled on the bed and waited for you to prop yourself up against the headboard, adjusting the pillows so there was somewhere comfortable for you both to lean against. You took one from him and cupped it appreciatively, the warmth of it spreading through your palms like a welcomed hug as he somewhat carefully plopped himself down on the mattress beside you, his tea threatening to spill out over the top.

It was hard not to stare at him, and you found yourself grateful for him sitting directly beside you rather than in front of you, the constant need to cast your eyes on every inch of his bare, sculpted torso and the tattoos that decorated his ivory skin too much to deny.

Pete looked at you, his grin making you beam, and using your mug to hide your smile, you took a long sip, savouring the heat of the perfectly made cuppa as it slipped down your throat.

His hand landed on your thigh and gave it a squeeze as he took a drink of his own, facing forward to stare at his wall that was adorned end to end in a Hammer flag as he relished in this new reality, finding it hard to believe this was how things were turning out.

Last night was perfect. Being with you, holding you, kissing you, feeling your skin against his, talking about anything and everything whenever your lips didn’t find themselves locked together; all things that had him looking forward to more and everything in between.

“This is the best brew I've ever had,” you praised, your sweet voice bringing him out of his thoughts.

His brow hooked high on his forehead as he looked at you out of the corner of his eye, lifting his cup to his mouth again.

“How do you figure that?” he asked after swallowing the hot tea.

“Well…” you began, your hand covering his, lacing your fingers together. “I'm drinking it with you, in your bed, half naked and wearing your shirt…” you sang, your smile accessorizing your words.

Pete chuckled, nodding his head at the same time he looked down at your interlaced fingers, giving your hand a squeeze three times. “It is the best brew, innit?”

Whether it was still morning or sometime in the afternoon when you finally managed to peel away from each other, you weren't sure, your false goodbyes drawn out and spilling into the hallway over the span of many minutes, your ignorance of the clock and everything else carrying on steadily through your stay.

Pete would press himself into you again every time you managed to convince yourself to back away, his cheeky laugh and undeniable look that hinted at all he was wanting to do to make you stay persuading you into another kiss that turned into two more, your back planted firmly against the wall leading to his flat.

The click of a neighbouring door opening distracted you only slightly, the draw of Pete’s lips luring you not to care who saw you, the feel of his naked chest and back under your palms as you roamed freely over his form capturing all of your attention.

It wasn’t until the sound of someone obviously clearing their throat at your public display broke the silence that you stopped, Pete moving his face back from yours enough to see who was disturbing him while still cupping your cheeks in his hands.

“Morning, Mrs. Platt,” he sang, his charm shining brightly and charismatically just as it did any time you witnessed him talk to anybody.

She raised her brow while giving you a thorough up and down, using her cane to press the button to call up the lift.

“It’s after noon, young lad,” she croaked, not taking her eyes off you for a second, her judgment making you feel like a teenager in trouble rather than an adult who worked a serious job and paid bills.

“Nice day, innit?” he carried on, his efforts clearly one of many attempts he had tried to win over his disapproving neighbour.

The lift door dinged as it opened, and you watched as she hobbled inside, feeling too afraid to move in fear she would make more unsolicited comments, staying frozen in place like a skittish animal.

“You’d know, wouldn’t ya? Face buried in hers.”

The door slid closed, marking her descent to the ground floor, both of you relaxing the moment it did and bursting into laughter at the interaction.

“You’re gonna get me in trouble…” he drawled, dipping his face back to yours before hungrily capturing your lips again, his body leaning into yours forcefully until you were happily wedged between him and the wall once more, feeling the growing hardness between his legs pressing into your thigh.

“I think you're already in a world of trouble, Pete.”

A dark chuckle rumbled through his chest as he humbly agreed, his grin full of mischief and promise of committing to whatever acts of passion would label him as equally guilty in the sinful pleasures you had yet to discover, his mouth hovering beside your ear as he whispered darkly, “You have no idea, darling.”

---

Part 4

Reblogs and comments are much appreciated! Please share the love of the story and know how grateful writers are to hear what you enjoyed! 💗

As always if you would like to be added or removed, please comment or DM!

Taglist:

@theesirenteller @inbar-thomas1980 @lilac13 @stealfromthedevil

#pete dunham #green street hooligans #pete dunham x female reader #charlie hunnam #pete dunham x reader #green street hooligans fic #charlie hunnam characters

[laurfilijames]

Even When...

Pairing: Pete Dunham x reader

Words: 1.5k

Warnings: The flu. Mention of lack of appetite/nausea/eating. Taking aspirin. Small reference to sex. Some kissing and cuddling.

Summary: Pete gets home from work to find you sick with the flu.

A/N: I've been battling the flu all blasted week and would really love some Pete cuddles right now, so yeah, this is for me to escape and feel better. He is my official comfort character 💗

---

Pete confidently jogged up the steps of the dimly-lit stairwell two at a time, whistling the tune of ‘I’m Forever Blowing Bubbles’ as he went.

Even though his flat was nothing worth bragging over, he was always happy to come back to it at the end of the day, especially knowing you would be walking through the door only a couple hours after him once your workday was done.

He fished his keys out of the pocket of his jacket and quickly unlocked the door, still whistling as he pushed it open and walked through.

He abruptly stopped as soon as he stepped inside, seeing you curled up on the sofa with a blanket disguising all of you but the top of your head. Despite him being as quiet as possible, the noise made by the latch on the door as he closed and locked it made him wince, and he glanced over his shoulder to make sure he hadn't disturbed you.

You didn't move even the slightest, and though that was his goal, he felt nothing but worry.

You had intended to go to work today, he was sure of it, thinking back to seeing you cleaning your teeth in the bathroom in nothing but one of his West Ham shirts early this morning, having seemed yourself aside from being a bit tired which he assumed was his fault by keeping you up later than normal.

Everything else in the flat appeared as it usually was as he glanced around, giving him no indication as to what was wrong, making him frown as he slowly made his way over to where you lay unmoving.

Reaching his hand out to smooth up along your side, he perched on the edge of the sofa, watching your brows knit together tightly as you started to wake up.

"Hey, love," he whispered, "what's happened?"

Your eyes slowly blinked open, your eyelids feeling so heavy, the headache that was splitting through your skull intensifying just from that.

"I'm sick," you croaked, your voice brittle and small and revealing how depleted of energy you were.

"Why aren't you in bed?" he asked, fully aware that his sofa was not at all comfortable, and even less so when feeling poorly.

"I don't want to give it to you," you explained, "I'll just sleep out here."

Pete chuckled, "Don't be daft, I'm around all those snotty kids day in and day out, my immune system is good as."

You sighed heavily, "I don't think I could even move if I wanted to."

"Right, come on," he encouraged gently, standing and removing his jacket.

He extended his hand for you to take, helping you slowly sit up, his eyes flickering over your peaky-looking features as you tried to get your bearings.

"I'm okay," you fibbed, feeling completely nauseous and dizzy as you stood.

Luckily, Pete was standing tall right in front of you, acting as a pillar of strength for you to grab onto as you swayed on unsteady legs.

Before you could register how you'd gotten there let alone protest it, you were scooped up in Pete's arms and being carried through to your bedroom, tucking your head in the crook of his neck appreciatively.

He set you down in your bed carefully, the back of his hand coming up to feel the temperature of your forehead after he had pulled the duvet up around you.

"Christ, you're on fire," he muttered.

"But I'm freezing," you whined, trying to bury yourself beneath the covers even more.

Pete frowned and exhaled heavily, wishing he could take this away from you.

He kissed your forehead and gave your arm a reassuring squeeze through the thick duvet, "Hang on, I'll be right back, yeah?"

He walked through to the bathroom, opening the cupboard door to rummage through for anything that would help, finally locating the bottle of aspirin.

Assuming you hadn't been able to eat anything, he popped a piece of bread in the toaster when he crossed through to the kitchen and filled up a glass of water, knowing the aspirin would make your empty stomach turn.

His fingers drummed impatiently as he waited for the toast to pop up, his mind racing to think of every possible thing that could help you feel better.

Finally, he made his way back to your room, setting the plate on the bedside table along with the bottle of pills and water.

"I need you to eat a bit of this," he instructed, seeing your one eye pop out from under the blankets to see what he was doing.

When you responded with a groan, he continued. "I know, love, but you need to take something for that fever and you haven't eaten all day, have you?"

You shook your head 'no', the thought of trying to keep anything down seeming like the biggest chore.

"Do what you can," he urged, taking his pillow and propping it up behind yours to make it easier for you to sit up without actually having to.

"Thanks, Pete," you spoke weakly, feeling on the verge of tears.

"'S alright, love." He leaned down and kissed you softly on the lips, then again on your forehead before walking back to the kitchen to put his work things away.

He grabbed his phone and rang up Dave, trying to think ahead of what you would want when you were actually able to eat something proper again.

"Hey, mate…yeah, good. Listen, does your Clair have any of that soup she made tucked away in the freezer? Sweet. Would you mind bringing it 'round? I'll leave the door unlocked, you can just pop it inside. You're a legend. Cheers mate…yeah, next round is on me." He laughed as Dave began giving him shit, telling him he'd believe it when he saw it, and hung up. A smile continued to dress his face as he thought how lucky he was to have such great friends who didn't think twice to help out when asked, and he knew your best friend's famous soup that you always went on about would make you happy and help give you the strength and energy to feel better when you eventually felt up to eating it.

Pete strode back to your room, lifting his jumper over his head as he walked through, giving you a nod as he set it on top of the dresser.

"How'd that go?"

You shrugged, "As good as it could, I guess."

He took the plate with the half-eaten toast on it from the bed and set it back on the nightstand, assessing you with silent worry as he unfastened his belt and unbuttoned his trousers.

"Can I get you anything else?"

"Hmm, no," you murmured, tucking yourself back into the bed as deeply as you could.

"Right," he said, "shove over."

"...Pete-"

"Nah, nah, I won't hear it," he stopped you, climbing into bed in just his boxers, his body radiating a warmth that yours severely lacked.

You immediately curled up against him, wedging yourself as tightly as you could to him, smiling faintly into the side of his chest when he wrapped his arms around you and held you close.

"Comfy?" he asked, his lips moving against the top of your head when he spoke.

"Mmm, yeah."

You closed your eyes and breathed him in, feeling marginally better just by having him with you, the feel of his warm skin against yours bringing a bit of life back to you.

"I'm sorry you're sick, darling," he whispered, shifting slightly so he could kiss the side of your face.

"Pete, seriously, I don't want to get you sick," you moaned, though through a smile.

"Seriously, I'll be fine," he mocked, making more of a point by kissing every part of your face that he could until he landed on your lips. His hand reached up to cradle your cheek, continuing to kiss you tenderly until you forgot for a moment that you were sick at all.

"Let's get you better, yeah?" he vowed, his blue eyes filled with a mix of concern and hope as he searched your features.

You flashed him another weak smile as he let his fingers linger on your cheek, trailing down so his thumb rested on your bottom lip.

"I love you," he said, his tone serious.

You looked up at him, the urge to kiss and touch every part of him overwhelming and making you feel more frustrated that you were ill. "Even when I'm poorly?"

"Even when you're poorly," he smiled.

"I love you, too, Pete."

Tucking your head back into the space between his chest and his neck, you settled in against him, thankful to have such a sweet and caring Hooligan in your life to help look after you.

"Get some sleep, love," he hummed, his soothing words trailing off to allow you to focus on the sound of his calm breathing and steady, assured heartbeat.

---

Part 2

Taglist:

@stealfromthedevil @theesirenteller @inbar-thomas1980

#pete dunham #pete dunham x reader #green street hooligans #pete dunham comfort fic #charlie hunnam #charlie hunnam characters

[laurfilijames]

Like My Dreams

Part 4

Pairing: Pete Dunham x female reader

Words: 6.4k

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Swearing. Alcohol consumption. Nudity. Fingering. Hand job. Cum play. Oral sex (M and F receiving). Squirting.

Summary: Things continue to progress between you and Pete, indulging in the slow buildup and all the fun that comes before sex, falling deeper in love with each other as each day passes.

A/N: I am so addicted to writing all these sweet moments between them that gives glimpses of how they are falling in love. There is so much more to come for this story and I am still so excited to share it!

*reader is not described other than having hair despite the photo used in the moodboard. And yes that's Jay and not Pete but LOOK AT HIM. It is so Pete coded I had to.

Intro Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Pete Dunham Masterlist

---

You had to pull your phone away from your ear the moment the call picked up, the volume of Fiona shouting at you and going on about how worried she was too loud to keep it close, her annoyance at you not having answered her numerous calls not allowed to go unnoticed.

“Nothing happened!” you stressed, your grin splitting your face as you trotted down the sidewalk, listening to her accuse you of being too blissfully fucked out to communicate with your best friend and flatmate.

“Oh, my ass!”

“We kissed. All night.”

“Sure you did…”

“And talked…” you trailed off as you recalled every word and kiss shared, remembering each moment as if it had happened a hundred times over, his lips and voice ingrained in your memory forever. “Fi, I swear this can’t be real.”

“I can hear your grin through the phone. It’s making me ill,” she scoffed, but you could tell without seeing her face that it was in a lovingly teasing way. “And it’s real, so enjoy it, babes, you deserve it.”

Your smile grew even more as you made your way down the steps into the underground, not caring that strangers were noticing your blatant joy and staring at you as they passed.

“Put the kettle on, I’m on my way home.”

The lack of a vehicle was beginning to throw more of a wrench in your daily routine than you could have imaged, the difficulty of getting yourself to and from work let alone Jack to school and back turning into many inconvenient favours owed to Fiona and even Swill, and with neither one of them available to help today, you were relying on your very own knight in shining armour.

You yawned, your day having started earlier than you would’ve liked due to having to take the tube to your sister’s from Fiona’s in order to get there just as she was rushing out the door to work, praying you would get another coffee in your system soon.

“He’s here, Jack! Get a move on!” you called up the stairs, grabbing your purse and Jack’s cleats as he bounded down excitedly while sliding his arms through the straps of his backpack.

“Morning, Mr. Dunham!” Jack bellowed, practically skipping to Pete’s car as you locked the door to your sister's place.

“Morning, mate,” Pete greeted, his smile beaming as he stood in the open door of his car. He ruffled Jack’s hair as he flew past him and scooted into the backseat, tossing his things in unceremoniously as if getting into his teacher’s car was the most normal thing in the world.

“Morning, gorgeous,” Pete winked at you over the roof of his perfectly maintained, claret red Volkswagen, his hands tapping on it enthusiastically as his cheeks stretched even more on his face at seeing your own beautiful grin dress yours.

“Right,” he started, shutting his door after sitting back down in the driver’s seat. “Seatbelts on.” He glanced over his shoulder at Jack, then at you, his expression somewhat stern.

You looked at Jack to make sure he was doing as instructed as you fastened your own, giggling when Pete gave a pleased nod and leaned across the console to get close to you.

“You’re precious cargo,” he murmured, kissing you quickly, laughing as he pulled away when Jack began complaining about it.

For the first morning ever, you didn’t mind the commute from your sister’s house to your office, content with spending time with Pete before your workday, getting to admire him as he focused on driving while you sat comfortably in the passenger seat.

He sang pretty much the entire time, listening to a mixed CD he had burned, and it surprised and warmed your heart to see your nephew singing along to what words he knew, remembering Jack telling you how Pete often played music during class while they were working.

Stopping at a red light, Pete took your hand and brought it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to it as many times as he could before the light turned again, checking in his rearview mirror to see Jack looking out the window smiling.

“How uncool do you reckon it is to show up at school with your teacher?” Pete asked, his question serious even though it initially made you laugh, seeing his brows knitted together as he stroked his thumb over his lower lip.

You looked back at Jack who was still in his glory, nodding his head along to “Supersonic” by Oasis, and then back at Pete, recognizing just how important his reputation and influence was not only to his firm and all the others in England, but also to his students.

You reached for his hand, rubbing your thumb across it before giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I think it’s different when your teacher is your idol.”

Pete couldn’t hide his smile even though he tried, licking his lips as he concentrated on the road again, his happiness making you wish the repairs on your car took longer than anticipated so you could do this for many mornings to come.

“Fucking hell,” Pete panted, his head knocking against the wall as you trailed your mouth down his neck, your hands slipping under his jumper to feel his abdomen expand and contract wildly under your touch, the desperation to have each other growing each time you were alone.

You had just returned to his flat after going out for a meal with Dave and Clair, unable to keep your hands to yourselves even in their company, the feel of Pete’s hand resting on your thigh all night in a confidently claiming way driving you insane.

It had been a mutual decision to take things slowly, carefully and progressively building up to the inevitable, the anticipation adding to the excitement of it all and making every moment with Pete feel that much more special.

It had been two days since your sleepover, the brief time spent together since without being able to be physical making you curious to know where things were going to take you now, but the way he had been kissing you in the back of the taxi told you he wasn’t going to ever leave you unsatisfied.

Your lips found his again after assaulting his neck and chest until it was made red from your attention, his blush spreading up onto his cheeks as he became more worked up, sweat starting to appear on his skin that allowed your hands to glide easily along it.

He pulled your lip with his teeth out of restraint as you ran your palm over the bulge in his jeans, stroking him through the material until his cock was pressing against it almost painfully, your fervor increasing as you appreciated his size.

Jackets were torn off and left abandoned on the floor wherever they fell, your shirt, and then his, following suit as you blindly stumbled away from the door and into the living room, Pete laughing as he crashed into his foosball table.

“Sorry!” you giggled, the words you were going to use to ask if he was okay dying before they had the chance to pass your lips, feeling numb from the way Pete was looking at you, his crooked smile and hands clasping your face as he leaned in to kiss you again making you forget about anything else.

He pulled you along with him into his bedroom, not stopping in kissing you even when you both frantically worked to unfasten each other’s pants, only breaking when you had to rush to kick them off your feet and catch your breath.

Pete smiled and took a sharp inhale, taking a second to admire you in your bra and panties, watching your eyes cloud over with lust as you admired him in his burgundy boxers that were no longer leaving much to the imagination.

He closed the space between you and crashed against your lips again, his hands holding your neck and jawline to increase the depth of his tongue in your mouth, moaning when he felt your fingers hook in the waistband of his boxers and edge them down his legs.

Your own moans of approval rang out when you felt his cock spring free, your hand catching it and stroking his length base to tip, your thumb smoothing over his head.

Shivers rushed down your spine as Pete unhooked your bra and peeled it off of you, the sensation of his fingers and the lace delicately slipping along your arms and chest making you ache, your heart pounding when he pulled you closer to him so you were pressed together.

His lips traveled from yours and down your neck, peppering along your shoulder as he breathed you in, your head tipping back at how incredible something so simple felt.

Continuing his worship of you, he kissed down your upper arm and across your chest, sitting on the bed as he did, allowing for a better height for his mouth to line up to your breasts.

Forced to release his cock from your hold, you stood between his legs with the help of his guidance, whining as your nails dug into the flesh on his upper back when his tongue swirled around one of your nipples, flicking and sucking it until it hardened to his attention.

“Pete…” you breathed, both a praise and plea.

He didn’t stop, repeating the same on your other breast, his hands gently slipping down your waist until they caught on the lace of your panties and slowly peeled them down your hips and thighs until they pooled on the floor.

Once you were naked, he wrapped his arm around your legs and bum and tugged you forward, forcing you onto the bed with him where you landed wrapped together in his unmade sheets, his smile bright as he shifted and looked at you lovingly. He ran his hand over your hair, dipping his face down so his smile met the one you returned to him, your hands squeezing his body as you held him close to you.

You smiled as you reached up to trace his lips, his soft laugh making your heart soar as he placed his forehead against yours and nudged your nose back and forth, both of your smiles fading as the weight of this moment settled in.

Pete’s hand slowly trailed down your side and onto your hip, scooping your thigh to sling it over his waist, your breath pausing in your lungs as you waited for him to touch you, his fingers carefully gliding between your bodies until he landed home.

You gasped, releasing the air you had been holding in, the sensation of him swiping through your slick folds before pushing his middle and index finger inside you making you moan and grip his shoulder without regard to how your nails were leaving half-moon indentations in his skin.

The groan that tumbled from his parted lips in appreciation of how wet you were for him made your arousal increase even more, unable to help yourself from grinding your hips against his hand for more friction where you needed it most.

“Fuck,” he swore as he exhaled, hooking his fingers to massage you as if he knew the very spot that would make your legs tremble, and while you indulged in his generosity of pleasuring you, it was impossible to forget about him, taking your hand and wrapping it around his cock again.

Spreading the precum that was leaking heavily from the tip, you stroked him up and down, feeling every vein pulse as his shaft flexed and twitched to your touch, his hips bucking forward slightly, causing him to work you with more fervor.

A breathy moan passed his lips before he brought them to yours, gently and almost to test it out as if he hadn’t kissed you a thousand times already, meeting your lips more confidently when you reciprocated eagerly.

You never stopped once, exchanging breaths and slow kisses the entire time your hands explored each other, the addicting sensation of Pete’s long fingers moving in and out of you expertly while his thumb circled your clit keeping you on the brink and ready to fall when he allowed for it.

“Are you gonna come for me, beautiful?” he uttered, his voice thick with lust, his eyes heavy-lidded when he parted from you enough to look at your swollen lips and the way you squirmed beside him.

“Fuck, Pete…” you whined, gyrating against his hand, prompting him to amp up his already-perfect efforts.

“That’s it, darling,” he groaned, his mouth hovering against yours as he felt you tighten around his fingers.

You somehow managed to continue pumping his cock even through the build-up of your climax, desperate to drag him along with you and to experience what you hoped would be the first of many simultaneous orgasms, but Pete had a determination that was unmatched.

He alternated between hitting your g-spot and rubbing your tingling clit, massaging both precisely, causing you to inadvertently halt your movements on him as your climax ripped through you violently.

“Good girl, fuck…” he hissed, watching you fall apart under his touch, your body so beautifully reacting to the pleasure he provided, the noises spilling from your lips sounding better than he could have imagined.

Stilling his fingers but not removing them from you, he kissed you until he felt your walls release the grip you had on them, growling into your mouth in discovering how much your creamy slick had coated his hand.

You wrapped the hand that wasn’t holding his throbbing cock around the back of his neck and pulled him closer to you, kissing him hard to show your gratitude as you resumed jerking him off.

“Hang on,” he murmured, his brow furrowed as he took his hand that was between your legs and gripped his cock with it, spreading your juices on himself, more curses coming out of his mouth as he did. Somewhat forcefully, he grabbed your hand and placed it back around him, guiding your pace for a moment before sliding his fingers between your legs again, swiping through your soaked and sensitive folds back and forth until your cries encouraged him to drive them inside your aching hole.

You kept the tempo he had set, not faltering even when occasionally adding a pass of your thumb over his head, feeling him begin to lose control with each second. His free hand moved to cup your face, the gold of his ring cold against your burning cheek, his tongue rolling with yours vigorously as he ground his body against yours.

He groaned into your mouth, the sound guttural and primal, his lips breaking from yours briefly as he came harshly, his hot spend shooting out onto your lower belly and core where he didn’t let up on his ministrations.

His breathing was sharp and heaving, and you didn’t notice yours turning to be the same, focused on the feeling of his thumb smearing his cum over your clit that threw you into another shattering high.

He let you ride out your second climax, relishing in every blissful aftershock of it, your breaths gradually slowing together as your kisses became lazier and less hurried. Pete smiled against your lips as he gradually pulled away, his eyes bright and full of joy and promise of more.

“I’ll go get a towel, yeah?” he spoke softly and winked, looking at the mess he had made on your bodies, but thinking how fucking good you looked covered in his cum.

Pete tossed the soiled towel down on the floor and sighed as he lay back on his pillow, lifting his arm for you to slip underneath it, your head laying on his chest like you were made to fit in the space against his side.

Your fingers danced on his skin, tracing his West Ham crest adoringly, the happiness buzzing through you unlike anything else you had felt before.

He kissed the top of your head, his voice sounding tired and comfortably sleepy when he spoke.

“Are you going to stay the night?”

You beamed, relieved he couldn’t see your grin from his angle.

“I was considering it…”

Pete chuckled as he rolled over to cage you under his body, smiling down at you while giving you a playful look, his eyebrows high on his forehead.

“You’re dreaming if you think I’m letting you leave.”

What felt like an explosion of nerves burst in your stomach the closer you came to Steve and Shannon’s home, and you found yourself appreciating the decent walk from Bank Station in the brisk evening air, filling your lungs with it with each breath to try to calm yourself.

Like he sensed your unease, Pete squeezed your hand that he held in his, glancing over at you as he walked with his usual certainty.

“They’re gonna love you,” he reassured, his smile making you believe him a little bit. “You have nothing to worry about.”

“Okay,” you hummed, resting your head on his shoulder as you continued taking strides together, smiling and returning his consolation by squeezing his hand back.

After a few more minutes of walking and being distracted by one of Pete’s insane fighting stories, he slowed and turned to lead you up the steps to the porch of a posh townhome, feeling yourself straighten your shoulders and take a deep breath as he hit the doorbell, the wink and smile he shot in your direction helping you steel yourself.

“Hi, bruv,” Pete greeted excitedly when Steve answered the door, walking through it when he stepped out of the way for you both to enter.

He introduced you with pride to Steve and Shannon, and as soon as the formalities were out of the way and Steve had taken your coats, you felt any unease about meeting them completely vanish.

“What’s this?” Steve asked when Pete handed him a bag before seeing himself through to the kitchen.

Pete scoffed, speaking over his shoulder, “Wine, a baguette, dessert…” he listed, like he was offended Steve was asking.

The look Steve gave him made you smirk, confusion written all over his face.

“Pete, when have you ever brought anything?”

“Bollocks!” Pete responded, his grin revealing the truth behind his brother’s accusation, giving you a look like you shouldn’t believe it as he opened the refrigerator door and helped himself to a beer.

“I see you’re already having a positive effect on him,” Steve said to you. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“A glass of wine would be great, thank you,” you smiled, already finding the relationship between the two Dunham brother’s endearing and ultimately entertaining.

Pete was on cloud nine, smiling to himself as he went into the kitchen with a stack of dirty plates, hearing your infectious laugh sound through from the dining room, having hit it off with his brother and sister-in-law effortlessly.

He wanted to show you off to everyone he knew, so proud to be with someone as beautiful and incredible as you, and he knew his mum would love you to pieces when he eventually was able to introduce you to her as well.

“That’s going well then, is it?” Steve asked, coming in and grabbing another bottle of wine from the rack beside the fridge.

“Yeah, it is,” Pete nodded, half expecting a negative comment or some sort of warning to come out of Steve’s mouth next, bracing for it as he retrieved dessert plates out of the cupboard.

“She’s really great, Pete. You suit each other.”

Pete turned to look at him, his eyebrows hooked high in shock, and he became even more surprised to see the genuine expression on his brother’s face when he did.

“I mean it, you know,” Steve stressed, seeing Pete’s doubt. “I’m really pleased for ya, mate, so is Shan. It’s nice seeing you happy.”

“I was happy before,” Pete countered, still waiting for the other shoe to drop, not questioning that they adored you but rather that Steve was about to lecture him on something about life meaning more than how he had lived it up until now and suggesting for him to leave the firm and fighting behind.

“Yeah, but this is different, innit?”

Pete nodded as he glanced over at his brother again, smiling when he saw his honesty hadn’t faded.

Steve stepped forward and embraced Pete, a hug something that was very seldom shared between them, but Pete welcomed it gladly, patting Steve’s back aggressively and lifting him up slightly, making Steve curse and groan.

“Thanks, ya old geezer,” Pete laughed, refocusing on his task of setting out dessert while Steve uncorked the bottle of red, both brothers smiling out of appreciation and gratitude for how life was turning out after everything they had been through.

It was hard to peel your eyes away from him despite the pleasure he was providing you feeling so divine it was nearly impossible to keep them from closing, the half of his face that wasn’t currently obstructed looking heavenly as he indulged between your legs.

His brows were knitted together, his focus and pride in his work written out on his expression as he ate at you appreciatively, the way his hands dug into the flesh on your hips yet another signal of his enthusiasm in being able to taste you.

Your fingers carded languidly through his short hair, it feeling velvety against the inside of your trembling hand before his tongue hit that perfect spot he kept finding and teasing and made you grip his scalp with a plea for mercy, your hips lifting off the bed as your cries filled the air.

Pete was more than generous when it came to pleasuring you, having already made you come twice on his tongue and fingers that didn’t leave the intoxicating comforts at the apex of your thighs, his drive to coax another orgasm out of you something to be awarded.

His moans told you all you needed to know about how much he loved tasting you, although he was sure to utter the words between licking and eating up all you had to offer, his praise making you soar and feel like a goddess even though you were simply laying there and doing nothing but being spoiled.

You smiled, feeling yourself grow more deranged from ecstasy as you neared another climax, unable to believe how lucky you were to find a man who clearly loved the act of performing oral more than you had ever experienced, his talent and passion for it evident in each swipe and suck, your pleasure the only priority.

“Pete!” you wailed, trembling on the mattress as he drove his fingers in and out in the way he learned drove you insane, his lips sucking on your clit to make you reach your high once more.

It felt different, more intense than all the orgasms he’d given you already, a pressure coiling tightly at the base of your spine, your whole body tensing.

“Relax, love,” he encouraged, pausing only long enough to say the words before returning to his position, his fingertips brushing your g-spot a few more times before withdrawing them completely from you, his tongue flicking your clit to finish the job.

You screamed, your body convulsing as a rush of wet exploded from you, soaking his face that he kept buried in your cunt as he drank up all he lured out of you.

“Holy shit, Pete,” you panted, your chest heaving wildly as you fought to catch your breath and comprehend what just happened, every part of you tingling and alight from such an intense pleasure you didn’t know you were capable of experiencing.

Pete hummed against you, shifting slightly as he moved his lips from your over-sensitive folds onto your thigh, his eyes full of lust as he glanced up at you.

Licking his lips, he sat up on the bed, a deep breath filling his lungs as he tried to keep control of himself, his voice deep and gravelly when he spoke.

“I fucking knew you were going to taste that good.”

His continued praise left you breathless, and although you barely had any strength left in your limbs, you propped yourself up on your elbows and met him in a kiss that tasted of your tangy essence.

One of your hands pressed gently on his chest to encourage him to stand while your other found his cock that strained with a need for your attention that you were so desperate to give it, moving off the bed with him as you slowly rubbed his length.

You reluctantly broke your kiss as you sank to your knees in front of him, keeping eye contact as you did, your hand remaining on his cock as the other slid down his defined abs to his toned thigh. His muscles trembled when you pressed your lips on his groin, then a little further down on his leg, your nose brushing along his heated skin that smelled so incredible it made your mouth water.

You swallowed thickly, bringing your lips to his leaking tip, smoothing it across them before parting them enough to invite him into your mouth, still managing to hold his stare as you did.

“Fuck, babe,” he hissed, his eyes clouding with a hazy ecstasy.

Moaning as you took him fully in the heat of your mouth, you relished in his taste and smell, your nose landing in the wheat-coloured hairs at the base of his cock that held that musky scent you were now addicted to.

Your hand clawed into his quad as you brought your head as close to his body as you could, his cock slamming into the back of your throat as a result, a shiver running through you to make your nipples harden and you to shift your knees on the floor to spread your legs apart.

“God, you’re fucking beautiful,” he whispered, your eyes closing as you relished in his praise, his words encouraging you to make him feel as good as he had made you.

You gave him all you had, sucking and swirling your tongue around from base to tip over and over, bobbing on and off of his size that made you gag, but you never let up, hearing his groans and curses falling from his parted lips that made you even more eager to taste his load.

Gently, you cupped his sack, massaging it at the same time you moved him in and out of your mouth vigorously, feeling him tense and throb to your efforts.

Glancing up to check his expression to be sure everything you were doing was feeling as mind-blowing as you hoped, you carefully rubbed your knuckles against the spot behind his balls, increasing the pressure when you saw his mouth slacken and his eyelids shut.

“That’s it, fuck!”

His hips began to match your tempo, his hand carefully landing on the back of your head to remind you what he could do if you dared to stop, his subtle demand for you to keep on exactly how you were making your own arousal leak from you and drip onto the floor.

Pete stopped moving, instead digging his fingers into your scalp, his breathy grunts and moans signaling his end that made you work with even more enthusiasm until you felt him pulse into your mouth in powerful spurts.

You moaned appreciatively as you swallowed his thick, hot cum, still swirling your tongue around his girth until a shaky laugh rang out above you.

“Fuck me,” he huffed, running a hand through his hair as he watched you release him from your mouth with a pop as you sucked off the last bits seeping from his tip.

Pete held out his hand to help you up, nodding at the bed behind you, a mischievous look dressing his flushed face.

“Sit.”

It was exhilarating, wondering what he was planning now, trusting him completely while also indulging in the curious excitement mixing with nervousness that the look in his eyes gave you, and obediently, you did as you were told.

Pete kneeled between your legs, smiling proudly as he guided your feet to rest on the edge of the mattress, spreading you open wide for him to access all of your fresh slick that had accumulated in your folds.

“I’m not nearly done with you yet, darling.”

Pete woke up sometime in the early hours of the morning, having stayed up well past midnight due to the simple fact that neither of you could get enough of each other, indulging in discovering every bit of the other with your hands and mouths again and again until you eventually grew too weak and tired to tolerate anymore pleasure.

The window was open just as Pete had it any other night, the sounds of the other sleepless people of East London drifting into his bedroom along with the chilly air. A lazy smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, thinking how it couldn’t be possible to have ever been as comfortable in his bed as he was now, your presence beside him something he didn’t want to go without again.

He sighed as he shifted closer to you, moving his arm around your torso to tuck your back against his front even more, the warmth that was pouring off of you contrasting drastically to the cold clinging to the duvet. Nestling his nose into your neck, he searched for your hand in the dark, lacing your fingers together when he found it.

“Shh, go back to sleep,” he whispered, his voice sluggish, feeling you stir beside him as a soft whimper escaped you.

Sunday’s were already a favourite of his, a typical one spent down at The Abbey having pints with the boys or in the stadium cheering the Hammers on at home, but knowing he was going to wake up with you still in his arms had him looking even more forward to it.

If anyone had asked Pete a list of things he loved only a month or two ago he would’ve given his usual answer; football. West Ham United. The GSE. Scrapping other firms and the feeling that came with it. Teaching. Music and books. The soothing feeling of a pint on his hoarse throat after screaming through a match or the sting of a bruise on his face that reminded him of the minor injuries he had forgotten.

Never would he have considered the list changing to this.

You. Your smile and laugh. The way you looked at him. The way his heart jumped each time he saw your name on his phone or heard your sweet voice on the other end. The feel of your lips on his, or how supple your skin was against his palms whenever he touched you. Not to mention the way your quiet moans would grow whenever he did.

Pete inhaled deeply, drawing in your warm scent, knowing that if you weren’t wrapped up with him right now he would still have a difficult time believing this was real.

Something he never thought was possible. Something he never even considered as an option before his life had been completely turned upside down and nearly stolen from him.

Loving you was the best thing he had ever done in his life, and if it all vanished tomorrow with the rise of the sun, Pete would feel lucky to have experienced even half of what he had so far.

“Where are we going?” Jack asked from the back seat, noticing that you had deviated from your usual route to his house from his guitar practice.

“You’ll see!” you chimed, trying your best to relax as you drove, the anxiety you felt about being back behind the wheel ever-present, but knowing where you were headed was helping to keep you calm.

It was a relief to have your car out of the repair shop, no longer having to bum rides off of anyone or take the tube during the busiest parts of the day, but the convenience and gratitude you felt for having your independence again didn’t outshine the slight panic that lingered just below the surface, especially whenever Jack was with you.

The Stone Roses came on the radio, hearing the intro to “I Wanna Be Adored” bringing out your smile and making you turn the dial up, the lyrics allowing you to relax into your seat and loosen your grip on the steering wheel slightly.

Humming along, you felt your heart ache with that wonderful fullness that was becoming both familiar and craveable, the desire to chase it any time a thought of Pete came into your mind or a text from him came up on your phone a high you never wanted to end, the same feeling now related to songs you listened to together.

I don’t have to sell my soul,

He’s already in me.

The lyrics felt like a gospel, the words speaking the truth about how consumed by Pete you already were, the thought of having to sell your heart or soul laughable as you had handed it all over willingly and not once hesitated to do so.

You pulled up to the pitch where Pete and the other members of the GSE were playing a friendly game of football, seeing Jack’s face light up when you looked in the rearview mirror after putting the car in park.

“We’re only stopping for a bit,” you explained, not wanting him to think he was getting out of going home in time for tea and to do his homework.

The rain had been consistently falling all day, but that never stopped the love for the game, not minding being out in it now when you saw how happy they all were beneath the layers of mud and water.

Pete had just finished scoring a goal when he saw you and Jack standing at the sidelines, smiling brightly as he jogged over to you.

“Aye, aye!” he called, slowing before he crashed into you, his cold hands grabbing your cheeks as he planted an enthusiastic kiss on your lips.

“Hiya, love,” he murmured when he pulled away, sending you a wink before nodding over at Jack and ruffling his hair.

“Eh, Jack, you’re in, mate.”

“Really?!”

“Yeah, go for it! You’ll be doing better than me,” he laughed. “My leg could do with a break, plus, these old geezers are all slowing down and getting tired so you’ll dodge around them no problem.”

Jack looked at you for permission to which you nodded and laughed, “Yes! Your cleats are still in my car from yesterday.”

“Yes!” Jack celebrated, jumping up and down on the spot before running back to the car to get his gear.

“You’ve just made his day,” you smiled, nudging Pete’s arm with your elbow as you swayed on the spot, wondering how they were all managing to stay warm when they were soaked through to their skin.

“Ah, he’s a good lad,” Pete complimented, both of you watching as he hurriedly changed his shoes and ran out onto the field where he was welcomed excitedly by Ned and Dave.

You couldn’t help but giggle, seeing Jack burst out laughing as Dave told him about Bovver’s bummed knee, explaining to him ways to twist him up and get around him fast enough he wouldn’t be able to keep up.

Within a few minutes, the lads were all amping Jack up, calling him “Beckham” only to be corrected that he wanted to be like Ferdinand, and cheering and going on more than usual any time he got a goal, making the kid beam.

“Did you have a good day, darling?” Pete asked, taking your hand in his where he pulled you into him, his lips peppering over your forehead.

“It’s better now,” you sighed, allowing yourself to lean into him despite him being soaking wet.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You make everything better, Pete.”

You felt him hum, his chest rumbling with his approval at the same time his arms held you tighter, allowing you to inhale deeply to capture the mix of sweat, rain and fresh air as you nuzzled your face against him.

The tender moment lasted momentarily when Pete began shouting jeers at the boys, making you laugh the louder and more offensive his words became toward his mates, his body shaking as he began to crack up as well.

“Come on, Ned, the lad is almost taller than you!” Pete teased, promptly holding up his middle finger to Ned after being given one on each hand in response to his insult.

He chuckled and then kissed the top of your head before flicking your hood up to cover it, holding onto the edges to make sure it stayed up and shielded you as much as it could from the rain.

“I should get in there and put those idiots in their places,” he smiled, his blue eyes bright against the gloomy sky.

“Yeah, I need to get the little lad home,” you explained. “Thank you for this. You always make him feel like a star.”

Pete smirked, pulling out the creases around his mouth. “Ah, it’s all good, darling.”

Still holding onto your hood, he dipped in and kissed you, once and then again, unable to get enough, both of you losing focus on his return to the match and your departure.

“Why is it always impossible to say goodbye to you?” you accused, pulling your lip in your teeth until he kissed you again and forced you to release it.

“I get that a lot.”

He laughed when you squeezed him, the sound of it adding to the intoxication he had over you, and you melted even more when it quickly faded into a moan of desire when his lips met yours again, his kiss deepening with a sudden desperation.

“Oi! Lovebirds!” Ike’s voice rang out through the mix of someone else shouting for you to get a room and Jack yelling “Gross!”.

“Lovebirds?” Pete asked, his amusement clear in his grin as he laughed again and kissed you through his smile.

“Yeah,” you spoke against his lips, happy to confirm the sentiment.

He pulled away from you with a groan after another intense kiss, biting his lip this time out of restraint, his head shaking back and forth while looking at you hungrily.

“Mm. I'll be getting my hands on you later.”

Warmth spread through you, your love and arousal blooming for him even more in anticipation of what was coming next for you, seeing promises of intense pleasure glowing in his eyes as he stepped backwards and turned to jog back onto the pitch.

---

Part 5

Please consider reblogging and leaving a comment if you enjoyed this story! 💗

If you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist you can let me know through a comment or DM!

Taglist:

@theesirenteller @inbar-thomas1980 @lilac13 @stealfromthedevil

#pete dunham #green street hooligans #pete dunham smut #pete dunham x female reader #charlie hunnam #charlie hunnam characters #pete dunham x reader #pete dunham fic #green street hooligans fic

[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.

---

Comments and reblogs are the lifeline of fanfic, so if you enjoyed reading this story, please consider sharing your thoughts with me and others! 💗

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

#pete dunham #green street hooligans #pete dunham x female reader #charlie hunnam #pete dunham x reader #charlie hunnam characters

[laurfilijames]

Even When...

Part 2

Part 1

Pairing: Pete Dunham x reader

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: Nudity. Mentions of a fever/the flu. Swearing. Mentions of alcohol.

Summary: Pete continues to look after you while you're sick, but with a match on tonight, you convince him that it's fine he goes to the pub to watch it with his mates.

A/N: Yes, I am this bitch and write myself comfort fics when I'm sick because why wouldn't you?!

---

Pete smiled when he heard the door to the flat open and close quietly again, knowing it was Dave following through on his soup delivery, and he would make sure he kept his own word in buying him his next round, or two, the next night they were down at The Abbey.

He didn't feel much like sleeping, it was still early after all, but he was more than content to lay in bed holding you, keeping a close eye on you as your body worked hard to fight off this bug that was unfairly plaguing you.

His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn't eaten anything other than the sarnie he scarfed down at lunch, and despite being hot from the amount of heat you were giving off from your fever, he stayed put.

After a few minutes, he stuck his leg out from under the covers that was closest to the edge of the bed, getting some relief from the cooler air in the room, and he reached his hand up that was wrapped around you to feel your forehead.

"Fucking Christ," he muttered, concerned with how much you were burning up.

Your skin was clammy and damp, and he tossed the duvet off of you to let some of the heat out.

"Shh, shh, you're alright," he spoke, the sudden change in temperature making you stir and whine.

You had a hoodie on, and even though he knew you would be sweating, Pete slipped his hand up under it to confirm.

"Alright, come on," he said, moving off the bed, "we need to get you in the shower, you're overheating."

He guided you up to sit on the edge of the bed and leaned down to kiss your head. "Wait here a tick, alright?"

You reluctantly opened your eyes, the pain showing in them breaking his heart, and slowly nodded yes.

As quickly as he could, he scooted through the living room to grab the soup from the door and stuck it in the fridge before running into the bathroom to get the shower running. He set two towels down on the sink so they'd be handy to grab afterward, and slipped out of his boxers as he made his way back to your room.

"Right, c'mere," he cooed, grabbing the edge of your hoodie and whisking it up over your head, reminding him how he undressed you similarly last night, only in a very different context.

"Hang on to me," he instructed, giving you a moment to wrap your arms around his neck as he lifted you off the mattress and carried you through the flat to the bathroom.

Stepping carefully into the shower, he continued to hold you until you got used to the temperature of the water, standing directly under the showerhead with you until your tight grip on his neck loosened slightly.

"You alright?" he asked, leaning his head back slightly to try to see your face.

You nodded, "Yeah, I think so."

"Right, easy now," he coaxed, slowly letting you down to stand on your own. His arms wrapped securely around your body, allowing you to lean on him completely without risk of falling, knowing you were using what little energy you had to keep yourself upright.

Your head rested against his chest, feeling the water run down your skin and his hands smooth up and down your back in a calming pattern, the surety emanating off of him giving you enough strength to make you feel like you could stay like that for hours.

The water was somehow perfect, not too hot or cold, and as you stood under its stream, you felt even more comforted as Pete slowly began to sway on the spot.

"How do you feel?" he asked after a few minutes of quiet other than the soothing sound of water.

"Hmm, better," you spoke, your voice still tired, peeling your face away from his chest to glance up at him with a weak smile.

"You want to stay here for longer?"

"Maybe a little bit," you admitted, burying your face against him again, your cheek landing on his West Ham crest tattoo that decorated the space over his heart.

"Long as you want, love."

You smiled against his skin when he kissed your head and continued to gently move with you, letting your fingertips ghost in circles on his back in a way you hoped silently conveyed your appreciation.

It wasn't clear exactly how long you had stayed there for, but eventually you sighed and pressed a kiss to his chest, "Okay, I think I'm ready now."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you nodded, your head moving against him.

Your body followed his movement as he reached forward and flicked the taps off, extending his arm even further to grab one of the towels to wrap around both of you at once. Outstretching his arms, he put it around his back and shoulders and then captured you in a tight hug again, pulling you against his warm, solid torso firmly.

His lips met with your forehead, seemingly unable to kiss it enough, and part of you wondered if it was a way for him to test your fever without being obvious.

Rubbing the towel gently over your tender skin to dry each drop of water, Pete worked quickly to ensure you wouldn't get cold now that you were out of the shower, and once satisfied, he unfolded the dry towel still sitting on the sink and covered you with it before wrapping the now-wet one around his waist.

"You're too good to me, Pete," you praised, watching a slightly bashful smile grow on his face.

"Nah, love, it's what we do," he explained, "You'd do the same for me."

You laughed lightly, "I wouldn't be carrying you!"

"What?" he said in mock offense. "You'd better!"

His laugh automatically made you do the same, and like he was relieved to hear it, he cupped your face and looked at you adoringly before leaning in to kiss you.

Parting from your lips, he took a long breath to calm himself, "Right, back to bed then, eh?" he whispered, his thumbs grazing your cheeks in languid back and forth motions while he rested his forehead on yours.

Tucked up in your bed together again, you were so close to drifting off to sleep when you abruptly opened your eyes, remembering Pete having said something about West Ham playing tonight.

"Isn't there a match tonight?"

Pete sighed, sounding as if he was about to fall asleep himself. "Hmm, yeah."

"You should go."

"'S alright, I can miss it."

"No, go. I don't want to keep you from it, you've already done enough," you insisted, tilting your head to glance up at him from your position on his chest.

He contemplated it for a minute, feeling torn what to do.

"I can't let you just lay here with me all night doing nothing and miss the game, you'll have a much better time at the pub."

You had already heard his phone buzzing over and over with text messages in the time since exiting the shower, more likely than not all from the lads, and now it was ringing, the chimey ringtone of 'I'm Forever Blowing Bubbles' carrying through the flat.

"Pete…"

"Alright, alright," he said to appease you, sitting up and stepping out of bed. "I'll go, but if you need anything," he stressed, his eyebrows raising high on his forehead, "you call me immediately and I'll come right home."

"Promise."

"I mean it."

You settled into his spot, wanting to surround yourself in his warmth and scent and keep it with you in his absence, watching as he got dressed.

"Have a good time," you wished, smiling what you hoped was convincingly.

He must have asked you at least ten times before he left if you were sure you were going to be okay, stepping in and out of the room as he put on his jumper and fetched his wallet and keys, and doing your best to seem as well as you could, you swore each time that you would be.

Pete trotted down the flight of stairs leading to the car park, having stopped twice already to debate turning back and cursing out loud each time as he forced his feet onward. He felt guilty for leaving you when you were this ill, but you were stubborn and weren't taking no for an answer, not wanting to ruin a night of footy for him.

His phone rang again, and he paused and whipped it out of his pocket.

"What?"

"Fucking hell, Pete, calm down, yeah?" Bov said from the other end. "Have you not been getting all our texts? The games about to-"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm on my way, calm your tits."

Pete hung up without saying goodbye, taking one last look up at the flat before getting in his car and driving off.

He checked his phone at every light, making sure he didn't miss a call from you, his mind worrying and second guessing having left from the moment he stepped out the door.

The short drive to The Abbey felt long, and when he finally made his way inside, he took a deep breath to grant him the patience he needed not to be pissy toward his mates.

"Eh, there he is!"

"Hi, boys," he nodded, stopping at the bar to order a round for them all before he got comfortable at their usual table.

Dave walked over, patting him on the shoulder, "How's she doing, mate? Clair said she talked to her earlier and she's having a rough go."

"Yeah, not great," Pete confirmed, a pit forming in his stomach out of sheer guilt just by saying it out loud.

"Ahh, well we hope she gets feeling better soon. Give her our best, yeah?"

"Yeah, will do, thanks. And thanks again for dropping off that soup."

Dave winked at him before heading back to the table, leaving Pete and his growing remorse behind.

He exhaled a long breath through his mouth, his leg bouncing up and down as he rested his foot up on the bar rail while Terry filled their pints, his impatience getting the better of him. He pulled his phone out of his jeans again, thinking he might've felt it vibrate, only to feel more worry wash over him when his screen was blank.

"Hey, Terry, you don't mind bringing those 'round to the boys, yeah?"

"Sure, Pete," Terry agreed, looking at him suspiciously.

Without saying goodbye to anyone, Pete moved through the crowd and out the door, rushing to get back home in the realization he never should've left in the first place.

Taking the stairs three at a time now, Pete raced up them, his keys gripped in his hand and ready to unlock the door as soon as he reached it.

The flat was quiet and the same as when he'd left with the one lamp beside the sofa switched on to provide enough light so it wasn't totally dark, the only difference he noticed being the kettle sitting out on the counter with your mug left next to it.

The thought of you standing weak and holding onto the counter as you waited for your tea to brew made him feel even worse, and he wasted no more time in getting to you as he removed his jumper and discarded it somewhere near the chair by the telly while striding through to the bedroom.

A slight bit of relief washed over him when he saw you sound asleep in his spot, but the need to be with you and feel you in his arms became overwhelming.

As quietly as he could, he stepped out of his jeans and walked over to your side of the bed, carefully crawling under the covers where he caught a glimpse of your otherwise bare body dressed in his brown Stone Island sweater.

He settled up beside you, wrapping his arm around you to tug you closer to him, kissing your head when you sighed and let out a quiet whimper.

"It's alright, darling," he whispered. "I'm back now."

Without waking, you instinctively held onto him, curling yourself into his body, your leg slipping between his to secure yourself to him even more.

He let his lips linger on your forehead, happy to feel your temperature had regulated, and inhaled deeply, trying to breathe in every part of you that he could.

"I'm sorry I left," he spoke against your skin, his hands giving you a reassuring squeeze as he closed his eyes and focused on the feeling of your soft breaths fanning out on his chest.

---

Taglist:

@stealfromthedevil @theesirenteller @inbar-thomas1980

#pete dunham #pete dunham x reader #green street hooligans #pete dunham comfort fic #charlie hunnam characters #charlie hunnam

[laurfilijames]

Pete Dunham (Green Street Hooligans)

Like My Dreams

Intro Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Even When...

Part 1 Part 2

Rain

#pete dunham #green street hooligans #pete dunham x female reader #pete dunham x reader #charlie hunnam characters #charlie hunnam

[laurfilijames]

I'm nearly done editing the next chapter of my Pete Dunham fic Like My Dreams but am totally stalling and lacking motivation.

Who wants it? Show of hands!

#pete dunham #green street hooligans #charlie hunnam #charlie hunnam characters #pete dunham x female reader #pete dunham smut #yes you read that correctly #this chapter has smut 🔥

[laurfilijames]

Do you have a favourite Charlie character to write for?

Do you get ideas and have to decide what character to write it for?

Ohhhh anon thank you for sending these lovely questions!! I appreciate it so much and it really made me think 💗

The answer to the first question is yes… though it didn't come easily.

Short answer is Pete Dunham.

Long answer to follow ⬇️

Why Pete?

I fell in love with this character the first time I watched Green Street Hooligans and have since made it my life goal to fix the ending and give Pete a wonderful life.

This character is so charismatic. Everyone loves him (take a hike Shannon). His mates are fiercely loyal to him (as is he to them), his brother-in-law Matt seemed to worship the ground he walked on quickly after meeting him, and I just know that he is the favourite teacher to all of his students.

Okay now as to why I love writing for him.

He's pure joy. He's fun and funny and doesn't take things too seriously aside from the dealings of his firm. Whenever I write for him, I very easily get sucked into that world and find it beyond enjoyable to not only write scenes between him and reader falling in love, but also between him and his mates/fellow firm members. I have never been big on dialogue in my fics and yet with my series Like My Dreams, I've written the most dialogue I ever have and it seems to come effortlessly which is a fun surprise. I can hear his voice whenever I'm working on scenes and clearly imagine his expressions and mannerisms, so I reckon this helps make it all the more enjoyable to write for him.

I also feel like he has so much depth to his character and I love further exploring the mix of the cocky Cockney Hammer who beats the piss out of people and the sweet, caring man who loves his family, mates and job. He is such an underrated character in my opinion which probably also adds to my appeal to him and wanting to do justice to the things that happened canonically in the film.

All in all, writing for Pete is fun. He's a cheeky hooligan who makes me swoon without fail 🥰

I do love writing for all of the ones I have already though, but for me Pete just feels like home.

To the second question!

I don't think I've ever had an idea where I've had to choose between characters to assign it.

My ideas usually come with the character already in mind, though many of them could easily suit some of his other characters as a lot of them have similarities where it could work as well. It's usually “I want x to happen with y character” and that's that! (the x being a specific smutty thing I want to write 🤣)

Thank you so much again for sending this ask!! I truly am grateful for it and love answering questions like these! 💗

#asks #charlie hunnam #charlie hunnam characters #pete dunham #green street hooligans

[hotdamnhunnam]

**UPDATE: VOTING IS CLOSED**

Final Results here!

____________________

VOTE • VOTE • VOTE!

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

Meet the Parents Fic Poll

So I’m planning to write a fic about reader dating one of Charlie’s characters and meeting his parents/family for the first time (based on this request + follow-up), and I wanted to let you guys decide which character I should write! ✨

Question: Which character of Charlie’s would you like to see in a fic about meeting his family?? (...with smut afterwards, of course!)

Options:

Jax Teller

Raymond Smith

Will Miller

Raleigh Becket

Pete Dunham

Nicholas Nickleby (pictured in gif above lol)

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

Vote here!

If the link doesn't work for you, you can try pasting in the URL text instead – https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScB1YYNQCO-Ji4Cchvu4QqC4GbpAyYaA9fCZbinFchlWGqutg/viewform?usp=sf_link

Happy voting! Much love to everyone!! 💕

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

Tag List – Join Here!

@itsme-autumn @rebelwrites @happyhenners @band--psycho @witching-hour @est11 @edonaspanca @ughdontbeboring @neverland14353 @starbooty @coffeequeenxx @innerpaperexpertcloud @i-love-scott-mccall @six-camelot @alexa-rae-dreamz @justme2042 @awesomenatalia @auroraariza @rochyu @coffeebooksandfandom @inlovewithcharliehunnam @turner-cris @thesuicidalflower @chrmdnbeautiful @xladymacbethx @holl2712 @snow-white-74 @moonlight-fern @stitchesbystults @lilacyennefer @magic-room @sunflower12335 @trishmarieofficial @smoochesfroggos @o0idk0o @beth-winchester21 @flaireandsynch @littlebennettwitchsblog @got-to-love-a-badboy @noneofyourbusinessssblog @notquitecannon @wayward-avenging @travistheaussie @helloheyhihowdyheya @filliandkili @christycarnell6 @happylittlepuppydog @dinopin @leathercladmenfics @magictehnique @amberembers @addcrastinator3 @gemini0410 @babybubblesxtra @waywardodysseys @foreve-free @midnvght-lies @wiccanash @batmanb @xbreezymeadowsx @louisianalady @perhapstan @beethebuzzbuzz72 @boredintheglade @fullwattpadmusictree @dove-brothers @itsmycorneroftheinternet @somebodydoingboth @sinfulfirefly @zozebo @ghostlygooppeanutwobbler @jelisalazar @bispences @joegibson0 @chibsisadream @labramusic01 @weasleytwins-41 @bettergetusetoit @thatgirljayy @mariska0610 @emilykjh @bluescorpio1999 @little-diable @xxkikistewsxx @the-cactus-boi @rocketqueen @jjxvv @mrspeacem1nusone @softlyperiwinkle @xonickibaby @artemisausten @rosieposie0624

#charlie hunnam #charlie hunnam fanfiction #charlie hunnam imagine #charlie hunnam x reader #charlie hunnam x you #jax teller #sons of anarchy #soa #raymond smith #the gentlemen #will miller #will ironhead miller #william ironhead miller #triple frontier #raleigh becket #pacific rim #pete dunham #green street hooligans #nicholas nickleby