You rushed to the kitchen, pink slippers slapping against the tile, grabbing a floral tea towel and your sparkly first-aid kit. Yes, your first-aid kit was pink. And yes, it had glitter stickers and cherry-scented antiseptic.

Pete sat on your kitchen with a sigh, looking absurdly out of place — all brute and bruises against throw pillows embroidered with hearts and phrases like You are sunshine!.

“This one says I’m sunshine,” he muttered.

“You are,” you said, kneeling in front of him, inspecting his hand. “Just… in a very ‘could break someone’s jaw’ kind of way.”

He let you dab the cuts with a cotton pad, wincing slightly.

“You’re too sweet for me, y’know,” he said under his breath.

You blinked up at him. “No, you’re sweet. You’re just, like… spicy sweet. Like cinnamon. Or those sour cherry sweets that sting your tongue before they’re good.”

Pete barked out a laugh, and you beamed. That laugh was your favorite — rare, real, and crinkling the corners of his eyes.

Then, without thinking, you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek. His skin was warm and a little stubbled, and he went so still you thought maybe you’d made a mistake.

“Sorry,” you whispered.

He caught your wrist before you could pull away. His fingers were still a little bloody, but they were gentle now.

“Don’t be.” His voice was low, and his gaze was soft in a way it never was around anyone else. “I like it when you do that.”

You smiled — all teeth, all sugar — and climbed into his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.

After a few dates, it seemed he knew you quite well, he was an incredible listener and wanted to know everything and anything about you.

He’d often invite you over to his place, and overtime you understood why. He was huge on cleanliness and organisation, and if you were being frank, you found that adorable. 

It took him a while however, on his behalf to open up to you… He’s motive for taking forever, “I didn’t want to scare you off, love.”

Finally revealing his occupation and you eagerly asking all the necessary questions all night long, he was relieved to see how unphased you were by it. 

Although with this, and the relationship taking a more serious toll, his protective side became visible, and at times frustrating however his intentions were good. 

He’d often phone you whenever he wasn’t around, away on some trip or if he'd been caught up working late. Making sure nothing was out of the ordinary. 

As an extra safety precaution, the man would buy an apartment (quite luxurious, already set with furniture) to seek refuge, IF the situation was dire. He wanted you out of sight and mind from harm’s way. 

No one from his side of work knew about you two, except for Mickey, for obvious reasons. 

Being Mickey’s “best man”, meant a whole of responsibilities and duties to fulfil, which meant sacrificing times with you, and that would show. 

Mickey picked up on it, noticing how upset and timid Raymond became whenever he’d call or meet with him about a new task… “There’s a girl, isn’t there?” And Ray could never lie to his boss. 

And the SEX… Impeccable. 

He was a tall, broad man, with a large-build, and having always been in control that didn’t change in the bedroom. 

He’d dominate the fuck out of you, however his stamina if anything was always hard to match… The man could go on for a fair few rounds through the night. 

He was however often cautious with you, never wanting to inflict pain however at times he’d get carried away and his grip wherever it may be would tighten, unaware of his own strength. 

It drove him crazy when you called him “Daddy”, and it made him even harder to the core when he’d noticed you’d seized the opportunity to take some time out shopping, purchasing the most appetising set of lingerie for him. 

Ray would be quite authoritative when it came to sex, giving you orders, telling you exactly what  to do. There’d be a hint of passive aggressiveness in his tone, although it was never to threaten you. 

Mostly he loved the moments after the sex, your body wrapped up tightly in his arms laying against his thick chest. A routine was established, much to Ray’s favour, where Ray would take the time to vent about his complex day at work, and slowly catching you drifting off to sleep… He’d appreciate how you were able to tolerate such information, which at times to a commoner, would sound absurd and disturbing. 

And yet, you’d never mind. 

Ray would definitely be both a titties and ass kind of guy, especially whenever he’d ceased the chance to fuck you, one hand was occupied firmly cupping your tender breast, whilst the other snaked its way around your waist firmly planting itself on your ass cheek, giving it a gentle squeeze. And when he liked, especially as you’d walked by, he would seize the opportunity to spank, although not too hard.

It drove him wild when you’d sit on his lap, making yourself comfortable off of his thick thighs: whether it be to feed him dinner when he’d arrive home late, or even if it was simply when he’d be caught up reading a novel. 

Nonetheless, dry humping the fuck out of him turned him into a complete beast.

Ray wasn’t a huge fan of PDA, for obvious reasons… He wanted this relationship to remain strictly private, with only a handful of people that you’d both entrusted having the privilege to know. 

Often these signs of affection where outed whenever Ray felt certain it was safe. 

Ray was definitely the jealous type, although he was incredibly sly at hiding it. 

He’d become distant throughout the day and often quite hostile, although never in a way to harm you. The fact that your relationship was not publicly exclusive, was an advantage for others to entice you infuriated him beyond words. 

Although you’d shut them down nonetheless, and so ruthlessly, that always seemed to cheer him up.

Ray would definitely be the first to admit that he loved you, and it would happen in the heat of a moment, when you’d least expect it. 

“You really don’t know much about football, do ya?” he says, raising an eyebrow.

You shrug. “I know the basics. Kick the ball, don’t use your hands… unless you’re the keeper.”

He chuckles. “Alright, alright. Let’s break it down, yeah?”

He grabs a bottle cap off the table and sets it on the armrest. “This is you.” Then he picks up a cigarette lighter. “And this—this is the last defender. The offside rule, everyone moans about it like it’s rocket science, but it’s not. If you’re here—” he moves the bottle cap past the lighter, “closer to their goal than their last defender when your mate passes you the ball, that’s offside. You’re cherry-pickin’. It’s cheating, basically.”

You nod, watching as he flicks the cap back toward you. “But if you’re level with him, or behind, you’re good.”

He pauses the match on screen. A West Ham striker’s just made a break. “See? That right there—he timed his run perfect. He waited till the ball was played before darting ahead. That’s awareness. That’s proper football intelligence.”

You sip your pint, trying to soak it in.

Pete gestures to the screen again. “Now, fouls. Not every bump’s a foul. Football’s meant to be rough. But go in with your studs up, or clatter someone from behind, ref’s gonna blow you up straightaway. There’s a line, yeah? And the best players—they ride that line without crossing it.”

He leans forward a bit, voice softer now. “And then there’s passion. You don’t just play for points. You play for your badge, for the lads beside you, for the people watching in the cold and rain, screamin’ their hearts out. That’s football.”

You glance around his flat—the scarves draped over the bookshelf, the framed picture of the GSE lads celebrating outside a pub, the worn-out boots by the door—and suddenly it all makes sense. Football, for Pete, isn’t a hobby. It’s a way of life.

“So,” he says, standing up and stretching, “you still fancy learning the rest?”

You nod. You’re not sure when it happens—maybe somewhere between his explanation of tactical fouls and him getting up to gesture wildly at the paused match—but suddenly it’s not just football you’re paying attention to.

Pete’s pacing a little, one hand running through his hair as he talks, sleeves rolled up just enough to show the veins in his forearms. His voice dips low when he talks about pride, about playing with heart, and the way his eyes flick to yours now and then—like he’s checking if you’re still with him—makes your pulse tick just a bit faster.

“See, it’s not just about bein’ clever with the ball. It’s about makin’ it count. Every touch, every—”

You don’t wait for him to finish.

You’re up before you’ve even decided to move, and when he turns to look at you, something flashes across his face—surprise, maybe, or just curiosity. Either way, you step in close, reach up, and kiss him.

It’s instinctive, heat rising in your chest like the final moments of a match. And Pete—he doesn’t pull away. Not for a second.

Instead, his hand finds your waist, firm and certain, and he kisses you back like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

When you finally part, there’s a half-smile tugging at his lips.

“Didn’t think footy talk was that sexy,” he murmurs, breath warm against your cheek.

You grin, heart thudding.

“You look ravishing, my darling-” Ray asserted as he’d leaned forward to you, planting a long-awaited peck on your cheek, as he’s eyes examined you head to toe. And being the gentleman that he was, he’d pulled out your chair for you as he always had before seating himself opposite. 

Finally, some quality time. 

Immediately, you began to ask about his day. He’d greatly appreciated you, for giving him the countless amounts of opportunities to just express his thoughts and concerns, with the one person he knew would listen the most. No matter how heavy and disturbing the topic may be, you handled it maturely: after all, he did give you the choice to accept him from the beginning, and that meant everything that came along with Raymond. 

As he continued on his rambling, you felt a sudden yet delicate, pulsating sensation between your legs. Your body instantly jolting to the unexpected vibrations that stimulated a certain carnal feeling, not quite suitable for the environment that you were currently in. And of course, Ray had noticed. 

“Is there something wrong, Y/N, love?” 

“R-Ray, what did you do?” 

“Whatever do you mean love?” 

Fiercely concentrating your gaze upon Ray, you’d witnessed a cheeky smirk began to grow across that handsome face of his and you knew he had plans installed for you tonight. 

“Ray, seriously, you need to stop-” 

Just as you felt you’d grown accustomed to the feeling, the sensation became even stronger, more forceful, penetrating through the sweet spot between your thighs. One hand instinctively gripped for the edge of the table, as the other was firmly squeezed the meat of your thigh. It felt as though the throbbing movements below were coursing throughout your body. 

Much to Ray’s delight, he enjoyed this view of you. Squirming under his control, seeing you tense from a simple feeling. 

“Stop what, darling?-” He vaguely chuckled. “I’m just getting started.” 

His hand that had remained below the table, had finally unrevealed itself. Grasping a tiny, black control with just a few small dials on its surface. 

Sneaky fuck.

You could sense the pleasure arising from within you, ever so slowly pushing you to a climax, that you so desperately wanted to avoid, especially in public. 

“R-Ray the food hasn’t even ar-arrived yet. Stop.”

Coincidentally, the waiter assigned to your table, had suddenly appeared with the fresh meals at hand. As quickly as they’d surged, the vibrations came to an instant halt, and you could feel slight wetness in between, and observing Ray’s ravenous gaze on you, you’d come to believe he could smell your sweet scent. Recollecting your arousing thoughts, Ray tore his look from you as he began to unfold the clean, white napkin onto his lap, however that same, sly smile stuck he had still remained. He knew precisely what he was doing, and mostly what he was capable of...

Thanking the waiter before he’d left you two to be, Ray interjected before you could. 

“Listen, Y/N. This is going to be a long night for you love, so I'll let you enjoy your dinner for now, we’ll have a good chat in the meantime... You know I’m always up for a little fun, surely?-” 

You were shocked, however mostly amused. This side of Ray was rare, although a part of you was genuinely intrigued.