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#hot irish men
stelly38 · 2 months
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Happy Hot Irishmen Day!
Did I put Mr. Turner in there more than once? How did that happen?! And I love Cillian with a beard. Pretty, pretty boys.
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daddies-i-love · 3 months
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Seán Ó Fearghaíl
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apollolynx98 · 11 days
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Andrew some day woke up and decided to write:
I know who I am when I'm alone
I'm something else when I see you
You don't understand, you should never know
How easy you are to need
Don't let me in with no intention to keep me
Jesus Christ, don't be kind to me
Honey, don't feed me, I will come back
And apparently he hadn't enough so he also wrote this on the same f*cking song: You'll hear me howling outside your door
Don't you hear me howling, babe?
Excuse me, sir? That's too much to handle. I can't.
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emprcaesar · 22 hours
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my office siren
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them 💜
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hombresexual2 · 2 years
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viridian-pickle · 6 months
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androgynousevilqueen · 6 months
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*wolf whistles* damn is this guy just waltzed onto my TV and reminded me what my type is. 😍
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berserkgf · 1 year
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SMAAAASHHHH
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hellblazerserpent · 1 year
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thebendsbyradiohead · 9 months
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watching this german-produced english show centered around the drug trade in rotterdam but absolutely NONE of it is filmed in rotterdam & it’s pissing me off omfg like why is the bus station next to a BEACH the beach is 40 minutes away
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numinousnic · 2 years
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not to sound like a music snob or anything, but. the experience of listening to a favorite album on vinyl is truly unbeatable
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Gnarls Barkley - Crazy 2006
"Crazy" is the debut single of American soul duo Gnarls Barkley, taken from their 2006 debut album, St. Elsewhere. It became the first single to top the UK Singles Chart on download sales alone. The song remained at the top of the British charts for nine weeks, the longest number-one spell for more than ten years. The band and their record company then decided to remove the single from music stores in the country (while keeping the download available) so people would "remember the song fondly and not get sick of it". "Crazy" dropped to number five, before disappearing completely from the chart, as under chart rules a physically deleted single could not remain on the chart longer than two weeks after deletion date. Thus, "Crazy" made history at both ends of its chart run. It marked the most rapid exit from the British chart ever for a former number one, and number five was the highest position at which a single has ever spent its final week on the chart at that point.
In spite of this deletion, the song was the best-selling single of 2006 in the UK. In December 2006, it was nominated for the United Kingdom's Record of the Year but lost to "Patience" by Take That. "Crazy" won a Grammy Award for Best Urban/Alternative Performance in 2007 and was also nominated for Record of the Year, and it won a 2006 MTV Europe Music Award for Best Song. The music video was nominated for three 2006 MTV Video Music Awards: Best Group Video, Best Direction, and Best Editing, and won the latter two. It was also nominated for a 2006 MTV Europe Music Award for Best Video. "Crazy" was named the best song of 2006 by Rolling Stone and by The Village Voice's annual Pazz & Jop critics poll. "Crazy" was performed at the 2006 MTV Movie Awards, with Danger Mouse and Green dressed as various Star Wars characters.
The single entered multiple other single charts throughout Europe, including the German, the Swedish, the Austrian and the Irish Singles Charts, and the Dutch Top 40, resulting in a number one position on the European Hot 100 Singles. "Crazy" also performed strongly outside Europe, with top-five positions on the New Zealand and Australian Single Charts, and was also certified gold in both countries. In the US, the song "Crazy" spent seven consecutive weeks in the number-two spot on the Billboard Hot 100.
Musically, "Crazy" was inspired by film scores of Spaghetti Westerns, in particular by the works of Ennio Morricone, and the song "Last Men Standing" by Gian Piero Reverberi and Gian Franco Reverberi from the 1968 Spaghetti Western Django, Prepare a Coffin, an unofficial prequel to Django. "Crazy" samples the song, and also utilizes parts of the main melody and chord structure. Because of this, the Reverberis are credited as songwriters along with CeeLo Green and Danger Mouse. "Crazy" was used in several films and TV shows including Kick-Ass, I Think I Love My Wife, Religulous, The Big Short, Cold Case, How to Rock, Grey's Anatomy, Medium, Boyhood, and It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia.
"Crazy" received a total of 86,8% yes votes!
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sinsandsweetness · 11 months
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CAMERA SHY
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(Rick & Daryl x fem!reader)
warnings- 18+ content. extremely filthy smut. not even joking srsly. lots of sex, filming it, unprotected p in v, oral (r!giving), cream pies, fingering, so many pet names it’s kind of sickening, dirty talk, one use of ‘daddy’ cause I just couldn’t help myself, two cocks at once, light choking, cowgirl, little bit of ass play, and spitting. think that’s it <3
notes- thank you guys for all the love on ‘birthday boy’! I’m so glad that so many of you enjoyed it. I thought I’d do a sequel/part 2 for it, where the boys film your alone time. It does occur directly following, but It can be read independently if you want! 3.1K word count.
Please let me know what you think! xoxo
Daryl made his way over to the dresser, no shirt on, just some pyjama pants slung low on his hips. His back still glistening, with water droplets trailing down his muscles. All taut and tan. The sight alone made you shift positions. Moving to your knees so you could squeeze your legs together. How on earth were you still horny?
He ruffled around the drawers contents and pulled out a video camera. A hand held silver one with a flip screen. One of those ones that people would film their home movies on. Christmas mornings and dance parties. Road trips and first steps. Though you’re pretty sure you guys weren’t the only ones using it for something a little less tasteful.
You couldn’t help but look over at Rick while Daryl played around with the thing. Turning it on and checking the battery. Getting it all ready for the movie you were about to make. Rick was biting his smile back. Trying to suppress his excitement about the situation.
They’d talked about this before. How they wanted something for when they had to be away from you. For longer supply runs that left them both a little hot and bothered. Missing you, waiting patiently for them back at home. Thinking about you touching yourself in their clothes. In their bed. Moaning their names and missing them just as much. And it’s not like phones were a thing anymore. You couldn’t call or sext. They just had to wait til they got back to deal with it. To deal with you.
If you were honest, the thought of them filming it, was a little nerve racking. But you wanted your boys to be happy. To always have a part of you available for their needs.
So there you were, sitting on your knees on the edge of the bed, both men standing in front of you, smelling like Irish Spring and laundry detergent. Looking down at you with two sets of the prettiest eyes you’ve ever seen. Ricks hand was on your jaw, his thumb rubbing your lip and sneaking it’s way between your teeth. Your eyes were on Daryl, tilting the lens down at you. The little red light intimidating you with its glow. You shifted a little, thighs squeezing together even more, with both your hands shoved in between them.
“What are you squirming for, baby? You gettin’ all shy on us now?” Rick asked, with a teasing tone. Your gaze shifted between them. Swallowing hard. Yes. You nodded a little.
“You’re gonna do great, sweetheart. Just do what you always do. You’re always so good for us,” Daryl’s own hand was making its way to the back of your head, fingers finding their way into your hair.
Their praise helped a little. At least gave you the courage to reach for their waistbands, pulling each of them down. You grabbed them both in your hands, already rock hard in your grip. Both of them kept smiling down at you, giving you a little nod to keep going. “Go on,” they motioned in unison.
So you did. You licked at Daryl’s shaft, getting him all wet with your tongue before moving over to Rick, and repeating the same process. Feeling their grips tighten on your hair and the hitch in their breaths was all you needed to step it up a notch. Being sure to look right at the camera, you wrapped your lips around Daryl’s cock and started to move your head back and forth. Sucking him off all sloppy and messy. Just the way he likes it. Blushing hard but forcing yourself to step out of your comfort zone. This was for them.
You could feel a pearl of Rick’s precum drip onto your hand as you jacked him off, so you decided to swap. A string of spit from Daryl’s tip was still connected to your lips as you started on Rick. Keeping your hand on the other man, being sure to give them equal attention. You never wanted one of them to feel left out. Not that they ever did. They both knew how much you worshipped them.
You kept swapping back and forth. Gagging every so often when one of them would push a little too hard on the back of your head. Spit started running down your chin, and little sounds escaped the back of your throat. The whole situation created a pool of wetness in your panties. Surely soaking through the fabric.
Rick took you by the hair, pulling you off of him with a ‘pop’.
“Feels real good, baby. You look so pretty with your mouth wrapped around us.” He started, thumb rubbing all lovingly against your cheek bone. “But I think we’d like to get these panties off and give the camera a good look at some of your other pretty parts.” Rick playfully shoved your shoulder. So you dropped back onto the cool comforter. Knees coming up and crossing your ankles in anticipation, waiting for whatever plans the two were silently deciding on.
“So fucking wet, Daryl. Look at her.” Rick said, hands parting your legs so they could settle in between them. You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks at their words. Their amused little laughs.
“Soaking right through, isn’t she? Sucking us off turn you on, sweetie? Is that it?”
“Uhuh. So much.” You nodded, propping yourself up onto your elbows. Both men on the mattress in front of you were making themselves comfy. Hands started trailing up your legs and playing with your boy shorts. Tracing the wet spot as your hips bucked. You were just so ready for them. Cunt still puffy and aroused, and even a little sore from your first round. But so, so ready for another.
Daryl made sure to capture Ricks fingers, tracing the wet spot of the cotton, and rubbing circles against your clit. Over your underwear, teasing, poking and prodding. Pulling them to the side when you whimpered a little, and his index finger glided through your slick with ease.
“Always so wet for us. Such a pretty pussy. So fucking pretty.” Rick praised, mesmerized at your swollen cunt. Practically throbbing for their attention. You lifted your hips as Daryl dragged your panties down. Throwing them off to one side of the room. They spread your legs so wide that your muscles hurt. Inner thighs stretched out and knees hooked around either man. Pulling them closer to you and eachother. Not that they minded.
They played with your pussy for a while. Getting you all sorts of worked up. Both of their fingers inside of you, stretching you out and making you groan. Clutching at the comforter below. Rick spat right on your clit, and you just about came right then and there. Unbelievable turned on by their focus. They slowly worked away at you, curling their fingers inside you and rubbing at your sensitive nub with their thumbs, definitely showing off a little for the camera. Taking everything just a a little slower than normal. So that they would have the most footage possible. Capturing your moans and whimpers and the way you moved against them. Desperate for more.
“Please I just- I-” your hips bucked further on to their fingers, and you could see the little look they gave each other. All mischievous and lustful. “What is it sweetie? You wanna cum? Is that it?”
You nodded eagerly. But with your confession, both men’s hands withdrew. Causing the quietest whimper to leave your mouth.
“Ugh,”
“Don’t complain. We just want you to cum on our dicks, that’s all. Isn’t that something you want, princess?”
It was more than ok. In fact it was preferred.
“Wanna cum on your cock, please.” You whined, pulling at Rick’s tee shirt
He groaned. He didn’t mean to. It’s just what your words could do to him.
“You will, sweetheart. I promise.”
You did. And it would have been a lot sooner if it weren’t for the damn camera in Daryl’s hands.
They had you get on top of Rick, straddling him as he sat up against the head board. Daryl started getting creative with his angles, with the camera behind you as he played with your ass, all while you rode Rick’s cock. Bouncing up and down as you held onto his shoulders. Pressed nice and close to his chest. His hands trailed up your shirt, peeling it off so he could grope your breasts, pinching your nipples nice and hard. Eventually his fingers wrapped themselves around your throat and squeezed gently on the sides.
He was stimulating every part of you that he could think of. His tongue was in your mouth the whole time. You stayed moaning against his lips and grinding down against him. Desperately trying to achieve more friction against your clit. It was driving you both wild.
Daryl stayed filming the whole thing. His own hand grabbing at your ass, thumb prodding at your other hole. Threatening to split you open once again. You were shocked he wasn’t touching himself. That he wasn’t getting his own dick wet. That he could actually keep the camera focused, even with the sight in front of him. The pure temptation to join in must have been killing him. Leaking precum all over his plaid pyjamas. That thought made your hips stutter. Along with the fact you’d be riding for what felt like ever. Your legs were starting to wear out. Muscles becoming all heavy and forcing you to switch from a bounce to a grind. Rick noticed you tiring out and decided to start fucking you from below. Hands moving to grip your ass cheeks and help you bounce. An actual cry left your mouth and you both knew you were close.
“Ohmygod, ohmygod, I’m- Rick I-” you babbled against wet lips. Trying to hold off as long as possible, but he just kept hitting that damn spot. The spot that made you physically convulse around him. When Daryl’s dick pressed against your ass and you felt his hand squeeze your waist, that was it. You snapped like a rubber band. Cumming all over Ricks lap, your head fell back against Daryl’s chest as your rode out your high. Your body starting to twitch from the intensity of the orgasm. A very shaky sigh left your mouth as you all stopped to a halt.
“Feel good?” Daryl asked, lips brushing your ear, camera over your shoulder and pointed at Rick. The grainy screen was displaying his pretty face, lips parted and wet. Eyes focused on you. The lens moved down to show your hands. The ones still gripping Rick shoulders, tight enough to leave marks. He smiled when he noticed.
“So good. You make me feel so good, daddy. Both of you. Both my-” you were catching your breath. Rambling in your post orgasmic daze and drunkenness. But they weren’t done. And you knew that before you even came. They wouldn’t be done for a while. Even with your pussy practically raw and begging for an ice pack. You should have been begging for a break, yet somehow you were still dripping with need.
“One more, baby, then we’ll get you some rest okay?” Daryl asked all sweet, hand trailing under your shirt to squeeze at your breast.
“Want you both...” You whimpered. Rick’s cock still stuffed inside you. Filling you up and making your walls twitch. Yeah, you weren’t done.
You tried to get up. Figuring that they’d want you in another position. Something to switch it up. But when you pushed on Rick’s chest and tried to lift, they held you down, keeping you on his lap.
“What are you tryna do?” Rick smirked at you, wrapping his hands around your ass and moving your body for you. Grinding yourself against him again. The sound of your wetness squelching and making you blush.
“Was gonna move, I thought-”
“I’m really enjoying this view. Aren’t you?” Rick said, leaning in for another kiss. He always loved eye contact. Loved seeing your expressions and feeling your moans while you kissed.
“Mhm.” You agreed against his mouth. There was really no sense arguing. Even though you’re quads were on fire and you could barely lift yourself off of him to continue riding.
Daryl moved to place the camera on the bedside table. So that the three of you were in the frame. When he came back behind you, hands on your hips as he started kissing down your neck, your shoulders and the top of your spine. All while Ricks hands rocked you against him, fucking into you nice and slow.
“You gonna let us fuck your tight little ass again sweetie? Or do you want to get that pretty pussy all stretched out?” Daryl asked.
You turned to try and look at him. A little shocked at the suggestion. There was no way that would fit. Right?
They both chuckled at your reaction. Daryl’s thumbs already pushing themselves in to your asshole. Stretching out the tight muscle.
“We can do that?” You asked. Never even having considered it. But it was definitely intriguing.
“We can. Might hurt a little though,” Daryl warned you, catching your lips as his fingers moved down even further. Using your excess wetness to push his index in your pussy. Still stuffed full of Rick. You gasped as he hooked his finger upward. Even Rick made a little sound. Surprised by his own dick being touched and your walls stretching even further.
“Wanna try…” you sighed. Trying your hardest to relax your muscles. To allow them to actually ruin you. Split you in half on both of their cocks. You couldn’t imagine a better pain.
“Ok baby, we’ll give it a try. Just tell us if you wanna stop, ok?”
“Go real slow Daryl. Let her get used to it.” Rick told the man.
“Let her get used to it. Or you?”
“Both. Seriously, just go slow. Don’t wanna break her.” You could feel Daryl suppressing a quiet laugh against your skin. Two fingers now moving inside of you, getting you ready for his cock.
“Alright, come down a little,” he retracted his touch and pulled you by your hips. Both you and Rick shifting downward so he could lay back. His head pressed against the pillow. He stayed inside of you as you leaned forward, opening yourself up for the man behind you. Kissing the side of Ricks mouth and up to his earlobe. Knowing exactly how much he loved that.
Daryl spat on your hole. Moving foreword and pressing his tip against you. Pushing ever so slowly as the two of them stretched you out.
It hurt. But you expected that.
“Breath, sweet girl. Gotta breath, ok?” Rick told you, hands wrapping around your ribs nice and tight, holding you up since your legs were completely useless. Daryl’s hands were on your hips. Pulling you down onto the two of you until he managed to actually fit himself inside. All of him. Him and Rick. Inside of you, together. It was hard to even believe. But you were so stretched out, there was no denying that it was possible.
“Oh god,” you mumbled at the realization. At the feeling of being so fucking full.
“Oh god.” Rick repeated with a grunt. It was even better then last round, you realized. At least for them. Having the added pressure of another cock, rubbing up against them both. That extra friction affecting you all.
“You two all good?” Daryl tried to confirm, his breaths a little laboured as well.
“Yes!” You squeaked, realizing that Daryl had started to move. Thrusting slowly into you.
“Y-Yes. “ Ricks eyes were rolled back. The two of you breathing hard. And the sight of him in so much pleasure made your walls tighten. Earning another groan from them both.
“Keep going. Keep fucking me, please.” You asked them politely. Your wetness was running down your inner thigh.
So they fucked you. Rick from below, and Daryl from behind. Completely abusing your pretty little hole.
Rick was in heaven. You could tell by his eyes. All glossed over with his lips parted, breathing impressively slow. He was trying to focus on not cumming so quick. Daryl’s hands gripped your hips real tight. Snapping his own right against your ass. Nails leaving little crescent moons in your skin. Whispering little praises in your ear.
“So fucking tight for us. Such a good girl, always taking us so well. Doing so well, baby. So, so, good.”
You’d never taken them both. Not like this. And having them both together, was intense. Hitting every single spot inside of you. Ones you didn’t even know about. Ones that made you cry out and call their names.
“Still ok, baby?” Daryl asked, becoming just a little concerned by the sounds pouring out of you.
“Gonna cum, Dare, gonna- oh, oh.” You could feel a tear slip onto your cheek. Wet and salty when it hit your lips. The pressure and the buildup catching up to you. Hurting so fucking good. Your core was all hot and tight and your head became fuzzy.
“Don’t stop,” you whined, burying yourself into Rick’s shoulder as your orgasm rippled through you. A burst of heat running down your thighs and up your stomach. Waves of pleasure pulsed through your core.
The two of them moaned your name and a couple other profanities. Honestly, you didn’t hear. A little too hazy to pay close attention. They each came inside of you. Their seed physically flooded out of you when Daryl finally pulled out. Very slowly and carefully, so it wouldn’t hurt you too bad. And Rick too. So gentle and caring. Both boys Immediately getting you to lay down between them. Your pussy was fucking aching. But you didn’t mind too much. They kissed you lots. All over. Asking you a million times if you were ok. If it was too much. If they wore you out too badly.
“Gonna have to give you some time to recover, huh?” Rick asked, coming back from the kitchen. An ice cold glass of water in his hand.
“You’re sure we didn’t hurt you too bad?” Daryl added. Rick picked a towel off the hook on the back of the door. Bringing them both over for you.
“I liked it.” You responded. Not fully answering their questions. You would definitely need a few days. At the bare minimum. Your cunt was swollen, and you could feel it. Rick handed you the water and you drank up. The coolness coating your throat. Gulping a few sips down and passing the rest to Daryl beside you.
“Gotta get you all cleaned up,” Rick started with the towel in between your legs, wiping up the pearly mixture that had coated your thighs.
“Again…” you joked, smiling up at him.
“Bath? Shower? Just the towel? What do you want?” He smiled back.
“Mmmm… bubble bath,” you bit your lip.
“Bubble bath?” Daryl asked from beside you, smoothing some of your hair down. Trying to tame the unruly mess.
“Mhm,”
“Only if we can watch.”
“You can film it for all I care,” you turned to catch his lips. Grinning against your mouth.
They sat down on the vanity stools and watched as you laid your head against the tub. Both of them smiling down at your cuteness. Soapy suds hiding your body under the water. Only the tops of your breasts threatening to breach the surface. The hot water and lavender bubble bath doing wonders for your sore muscles. You were sure they’d give you a massage after, if you asked all nicely.
Despite the undeniable toll on your body, you’d relive the night again in a heart beat. Having them split you open all over their cocks was always ideal. But seeing Rick’s face as you got double stuffed, was the cherry on top. Shuddering beneath you and cumming with an actual moan. Accompanied by Daryl’s stuttering hips and grunts of his own. Each of you fucking eachother into a mess of pure ecstasy.
Thank fucking god they got it all on camera.
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taglist: @rickswh0r3 , @elnyrae
[ comments and reblogs are always appreciated ]
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absurdthirst · 3 months
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The Irish Escape {Modern!Pero Tovar x F!Reader}
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 13.9k
Warnings: Rudeness, Pero being an asshole, prejudice against Americans, hypothermia, oral sex (male receiving), vaginal sex, rough sex
Comments: Freshly arrived in Ireland to visit the cottage your estranged grandmother has willed you, you run into a rude Spaniard. Unsure of why he hates Americans and why you seemingly can't stop running into him.
Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers
**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.
|| MasterList || Pero Tovar MasterList ||
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Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.
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It’s raining when you arrive in Dingle, County Kerry. You curse your suitcase as you try to drag it along the garden path that leads up to the small cottage known as Fairy Lodge. You fumble to find the key under the mat and work quickly to unlock the door, shivering as you step into the entrance, dragging your case behind you. You shut the door and shrug off your coat, wiping your boots on the mat. The cottage - tiny and cute - was left to you by your grandmother. She recently passed but you hadn’t seen her since you were ten after she decided to follow her dream and buy a house in Ireland. She left it to you in her will with the note, “always follow your dreams” and you decided to take a vacation and check the place out. It’s beautiful, even in the rain, and you are looking forward to exploring the area your grandma loved so much. After drying off and opening up the cottage. It’s quaint in the best way and you check the cupboards to find nothing, not even a pack of cookies. With a sigh, you look out of the window to find the rain has stopped so you put your coat on and make your way out onto the damp streets. You aren’t sure where to go but you googled a small pub nearby so you make your way over to it, hungry and desperate for a drink after traveling.
“Come on, mate.” William rolls his eyes and shakes his head, putting his pint down to slap his friend on his shoulder. “You should stay and drink. The rain’s gonna start again and it’s not like you can work.” He chuckles, imagining how much the Spaniard would curse working out in the rain. When Pero had shown up at his door nearly a year ago, angry and adrift with no plan for his life, he had taken in his old friend. Let him live with him until he had purchased a cottage down the road from the Garin farm. “Nothin’ better to do than drink.” Pero grumbles, shaking his head as he stands up, pushing his chair back. “No.” He huffs, pulling his coat off the back of the chair and shrugging into it before jamming his flat billed hat onto his head. “I’m not paying for your beers.” He glares at the Irishman, knowing that if he stays, he will be left paying the tab. He turns and strides towards the door, not noticing the woman turning away from the counter with a hot coffee in her hands. 
You gasp as the man knocks into you and your coffee spills over his front, soaking his jeans, and you immediately bounce back. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. I- shit.” You place the cup down on the counter and you reach for the napkins, turning back to try and help the man mop up the mess you made of him.
The accent makes him immediately seeth in rage, barely even paying attention to your remorseful expression as you shove the napkins at his crotch. Pero slaps your hands away, hissing at the heat of the coffee. “Fucking Americans.” He spits, shooting you a deadly glare. “Ruining fucking everything.” Shoving past you, he slams out of the door and out of sight. 
Your jaw drops and you stare at the door as he swings on the hinges. You can’t believe what he spat at you and you turn to look at the men gathered around the bar. “I- I didn’t see him behind me.” You choke and the blonde man shakes his head, “don’t mind the miserable Spanish bastard. He’s just not a fan of Yankees at the moment.” He chuckles and gulps down the rest of his pint. “Not your fault, lass.” He tells you and you sigh, “he made that crystal clear.” 
The bartender shakes his head, “Garin, that Spanish git needs to apologize to the lady.” 
William scoffs, “you tell him that.” 
You huff, “doesn’t matter. Can I get another cup?” You ask the bartender who nods. You sigh as you finally sit down in the corner, your annoyance at the rude Spaniard fading as you relax.
William decides that he needs to make up for his friend’s rude behavior. He stands up and groans, carrying his pint back to the bar for a refill. He nods to the bartender and slides it down to where he’s pouring you another coffee. “So.” He leans against the rubbed worn wood and shoots you what he knows is a charming grin. “Tourin’ Ireland, are ya?” He asks, making his accent slightly thicker. “Passin’ through, or will ya be stayin’ awhile?” 
“Actually, I - my grandma had a cottage down the road. Fairy Lodge? She left it to me after she recently died and I needed to get away so I came to check on the house.” You explain.
William nods, “oh that tiny little place on the corner? I remember the old lady who owned it.” He nods, “sweet old gal.” He takes the pint from the bartender and comes over, sitting down opposite you. “How long you plannin’ on being here?” He asks you and you shrug, “not sure. I can work remotely so I’ll probably be here a couple of weeks before I head home. I’m going to put the home on the market. I won’t be able to get out here to maintain the home so I think I’ll sell it.” You confess, setting your mug down.
“Oh, you should stay awhile for sure.” William advises. “Make sure the land doesn’t grow on you.” He has to admit, having a younger, attractive woman in the village would be a good thing. But he also doesn’t want the home sold to someone who would not respect the land, or the people. He can’t imagine your granny raising anyone who would disrespect the lady she had adopted as her own. “Besides, ye can always ask your neighbor to check on things. We take care of each other ‘round here.”
You offer him a soft smile, “yeah…except for ‘fucking Americans’” You scoff softly as you quote his companion. 
William shakes his head, “ignore Tovar. He’s a grumpy fucker.” 
You tap your fingers against the mug, “well, he clearly doesn’t like Americans so maybe it’s best that I sell up.” You hum and William sighs, “well, see how ya feel. You might turn out to love it here. I know I do. I served in Iraq and all I wanted to do was come home.” He confesses and you smile again, “it is a beautiful place. I’ll see how things go.”
He nods, reaching for the beer that has been put in front of him. “Well, if you’re needing anything, I’m at the Garin farm. Ask anyone and they’ll point you in my direction.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.” You offer William a smile and he makes his way back over to his friends. You settle in to continue reading your book and you thank the landlady for your meal as she brings it over to you. You eat and thankfully the rain has stopped when you decide to make your way back to Fairy Lodge. Tomorrow, you’ll get some groceries but for now, you’re exhausted. You quickly get ready for bed and settle in, falling asleep within minutes.
The next morning, Pero grumbles to himself as he walks up the lane towards the village. Needing some groceries, he wants to see if old man Sawyer had gotten in those wines that he had asked for. It was hard to make some of his dishes without the Spanish wines and he was looking forward to getting them.
You carry your basket around the small grocery store and you gasp when you walk around the corner to see the asshole from last night nearly walk into you again. "Do you make a habit of walking into people?" He growls and you huff, "only rude bastards who don't notice anyone in their peripheral." You hiss back, stomach twisting with annoyance at the man.
He purses his lips at you and narrows his eyes. “What’s an American like you doing in a grocery store like this?” He demands, annoyed that your mere presence makes him feel guilty for yesterday and it just irritates him more. “They don’t have all the fancy shit you would want here. Best go to Dublin and take your demanding, childish ways with you.” 
You narrow your eyes and grip the basket in your hand a little tighter. "Listen, I don't know what the fuck I did to you yesterday that makes you act like a rude prick but I accidentally spilled my coffee over you and you act like I just pissed in your cornflakes. I am here because my grandma left me her house so you'll be seeing more of me around the village. Get used to it, asshole." You growl, spinning on your heel to find the ground coffee.
The news that you will be here even longer than he would like puts Pero in a mood. “Hijo de puta.” He spits, his own basket handle nearly broken as he grips it tight in his fist. The last thing he needs is some stuck up, American bitch hanging around and causing trouble. Old man Sawyer comes into view and he stomps over to him to see if the wine came in. 
You don’t notice the man has left when you go to pay for your groceries and the old man starts to ring everything up. “I noticed there’s a bit of tension between you and Tovar.” He says softly and looks up at you. You’ve forgotten what it’s like to be in a small town - the gossiping and everyone knowing each other - but you sigh, holding your wallet. “I accidentally spilled my coffee over him in the pub last night and he seems to hate me without even knowing my name.” You huff, “I’m not the kind of woman that’s gonna bow over and beg for forgiveness when I already apologized.” You explain and Sawyer nods, “he’s a grumpy git. He, uh, has had a lot going on from what I have heard.” You snort, “haven’t we all? Still not enough of a reason for him to be a prick.” You say and Sawyer chuckles, “you’re fiery. You’ll fit in just fine around here.” He winks and hands you your change. “Thanks.” You say and make your way back to Fairy Lodge, wondering what happened to make Tovar such an asshole.
Pero is passing by the gate to William’s house, his own groceries in a bag on his arm and lost in his thoughts when his friend calls out to him. “Missed a bit of gossip after pouting off into the night.” He looks over at where William is pushing his best sheep, Nell, out of the way and walking towards the stone wall. He rolls his eyes. 
“What, did she manage to spill a beer on you?” He huffs, smirking slightly in amusement at the idea. 
“No, but she did tell me that she’s going to be in town.” 
His smirk slides away and he scowls. “Sí, I know that.” He grumbles, sighing as he walks off the road and towards the wall to talk. The lane was narrow and lorries love to careen around the corners recklessly. 
“How did you find out?” William is grinning, about to tease Pero for being interested in the American. “She nearly ran me over in Sawyer’s.” He snorts. “Woman - women - are menaces. Especially stuck-up, American bitches.” 
“Now mate, you and I both know that’s not fair. She’s not your ex wife.” William shakes his head, “not all Americans are stuck up bitches…or cheaters.” He raises his eyebrows at his Spanish friend who came to him years ago after finding his wife in bed with their neighbor. “Besides, you always told me you wanted to move from Seville. Said you felt trapped. So you came here to bother my ass.”
“I can always kill you so you aren’t bothered anymore.” Pero threatens, only making William laugh. He knows the Spaniard won’t actually kill him and therein lies the problem. They had been in the military together, serving on the same military bases in Iraq and somehow had become friends. Or as close to friends as Pero could have. Knowing the Irishman wouldn’t pity him like so many he had known would, he had decided to sulk in the Irishman’s home village and ended up staying. “She’s just like her.” He predicts. “All pretty smiles and batting eyelashes to get her way and then she shoves the knife in your ribs. She’ll sell the cottage to some developer who will want to put some god awful monstrosity where her granny’s cottage is. Only hope it's far away from my own.” 
William snorts, “she doesn’t seem money hungry to me, mate. She’s not like her. From what you’ve told me, she was charming and drew you in with a fake personality. This one seems real. She doesn’t seem to be faking anything.” William observes, “she’s not your ex wife. She just happens to be American.”
Pero rolls his eyes, knowing that William won’t understand. He’s not been betrayed like he has and had his heart ripped out. Even more to find that the baby she had just told him about wasn’t his. She had just been planning on using him. “I’ve got better things to do than to argue with you, amigo.” He grumbles, pushing away from the wall and walking towards the road. 
“All I’m saying is to just give her a chance.” William shouts at Pero’s retreating form and he sighs, looking down at Nell. “He really is a stubborn bastard.” 
**** 
You decide to spend the day in the cottage, checking out things that your grandma left here and cleaning it up. You look through the photos she left there of your family. You haven’t seen her for years but she had an album of photos your parents must have sent her over the years. You caress the book, wishing you’d known her more and you wonder why she left you the cottage. She didn’t even leave you a note in her will when you got the keys.
There’s movement in the Fairy Cottage. Pero had noticed it when he was moving some more kindling under the lean-to on the back of the cottage. The sweet older lady that had lived there had been an American, but he hadn’t held it against the feisty old woman. A light comes on and he narrows his eyes in anger. People need to respect that a house is empty without molesting it. He grabs the crowbar he had been pulling old boards off the interior walls to redo. Ready to go confront the thief and make sure they don’t walk away with anything. 
You hear the back door open with a creak and you inhale sharply, unable to believe that someone is breaking into the tiny cottage in the tiny village that you believed was as safe as could be. Everyone knows each other for fucks sake. You pick up the nearest thing - a book - and make your way down the stairs to confront the invader. When you get to the bottom step, you see the shadow and throw the book, a scream escaping your lips.
Pero curses when the book comes out of nowhere and hits him on the head. Turning and swinging the crowbar threateningly. “You had better make your peace with God if you think you are stealing anything from this house!” He shouts, lunging forward to grab the criminal who has broken into the cottage. “Got you!” 
You scream as he grabs the back of your sweater and you try to hit him. “Get the fuck off of me!” You tell, slapping anywhere you can reach. “Get off!”
He drops the crowbar just as soon as he hears that accent, immediately aware that he has a woman and despite everything, he couldn’t hurt one. “Ow! Ow!” He yelps, throwing his arm up to block the jarringly accurate slaps as they strike his skin. “Stop your hitting, woman!” He growls, finally grabbing your arm so you can stop slapping his face. 
You can’t believe it’s him. “Oh my God, it’s you. You bastard!” You growl, trying to wrench your arm from his grip. “What the hell are you breaking into my cottage?” You demand to know, “what the fuck, Tovar?”
He would be surprised you know his name, but that bastard William has a big mouth. “Your cottage?” He shakes his head. “I didn’t know it was your cottage. The old gal that lived here died just two months….” He trails off, remembering you had said you inherited a cottage from your grandmother. That sweet old woman was your granny? He lets go of your arm and grunts. “Thought you were a thief.” He tells you. “Wanted to run them off before they could steal anything.” 
You are slightly touched that he’d put himself in danger to protect your grandmother’s cottage but you are also annoyed that he broke in without any warning. “Well, it’s just me. Although I’m surprised you didn’t take the opportunity to whack me.” You scoff as he lets go of your arm and you reach up to rub it. 
He snorts, bending down to pick up the crowbar and glares at you. Hating that it was you that he had run into again. No doubt you will be telling everyone what a fool he is, or perhaps calling the police on him for entering your cottage. “Might should have.” He grunts at you. “How do I know you even own this property?” He asks, narrowing his eyes at you again. “Wouldn’t be the first con artist American I’ve run into.” 
You narrow your eyes at him, crossing your arms. “Wow. You’re a grade A prick.” You scoff, “my grandma left it for me and you - I don’t have to explain anything to you.” You huff, staring at him and you get a proper look at him for the first time. He’s handsome, even with that scar on his eye, and you hate that he’s handsome. “Did you, uh, did you know my grandma well?” You ask softly after a moment. The curiosity gets the better of you.
Pero stares at you for a moment before nodding. “I fixed her roof the first year she was here.” He tells you. “Delivered her peat moss to burn and made sure that she was okay when bad weather rolled in.” He rocks his jaw, having to admit to himself that he could see the family resemblance and thinks that he had seen a picture of you when you were younger. “I-” he swallows. “I’m the one who- who found her.” Sadness fills his eyes as he remembers that day. At least she had passed peacefully in her sleep. 
You inhale sharply, tears stinging in your eyes for the grandmother you didn’t get to know properly. “I- I hadn’t seen her since I was ten. My parents divorced and my mom…she didn’t let my dad take me to see her when she moved here. I- I wish I could’ve known her better.” You sigh, stepping back from Tovar. “Anyway…you must be sick of me by now. The ironic thing is you don’t even know my name.”
Pero recalls the stories she had told him about her family, producing your name with an ease that startled him. “She talked about you.” He tells you. “Never stopped loving you and talking about when you were young.” The least he can do is not let you think the old woman didn’t care about you. “Maybe that’s why she left you the cottage.” He offers. 
You nod, biting your lip as tears sting in your eyes when you think about your grandmother. “Thanks for telling me that.” You say, sniffing as you try to not cry. “I - I appreciate it. Do you, uh, I really am sorry about spilling my coffee over you.”
He can’t snap at you when your eyes are watering and you look like you are about to cry. “Don’t worry about it.” He tells you. “I’m sorry for breaking into your cottage.” He tells you as he shuffles uncomfortably. He’s never been good at apologies, but he owes you that. “I’ll leave you to your day then.” He tells you. 
You nod, uncrossing your arms as you escort Pero to the back door. “That - I’ll fix that.” You say, not even sure of where to start to fix the door he had broken when trying to protect the cottage from faux thieves.
Shaking his head, he opens the door and bends down to examine it. “I’ll have the door fixed in an hour.” He tells you. “Need to go get some things from my tool shed and I’ll have it sturdier than it’s ever been.” He looks up and shrugs. “My fault anyway.” 
You accept his offer, knowing you won’t be able to fix the door, especially not tonight, so you let him go grab his tool box and when he comes back, you’re preparing some tea. “You want some tea?” You ask, knowing the nights are turning colder here.
“Do you know how to make it?” He asks seriously. “American tea is very sweet….and cold.” He grimaces, remembering when his ex would try to make tea and he had to drink it in order to make her happy. He had hated it. 
You chuckle, “I can make hot tea. Iced tea is for hot days. Or I can make some coffee?” You offer, not sure what he wants and you wonder when he had iced tea. It’s not something you’ve encountered so far in Ireland.
“Hot tea.” Pero nods. “I don’t understand how someone drinks tea that is thick like syrup.” He chuckles and then thinks to add, “thank you. I’ll get your door fixed, I’ve got another one that will fit.” He promises, opening the door and examining the frame. He had been about to replace his own door but he could always go get another one. 
You nod, getting to work on boiling the water on the stove. Your hatred of Pero fades a little since you’ve managed to talk to him and you still don’t understand his apparent dislike of anyone and anything American. When he comes back, you are a little chilly and you pour the brewed tea. “Do you like milk or no?” You ask, wondering how the Spaniard likes his tea.
His nose curls and he shakes his head. “No milk.” He insists. “I cannot have it.” His sensitive stomach was something that made William laugh but milk curdled on him. It was not pleasant and he didn’t want to risk it. “Please.” He adds when he remembers that manners are important to Americans.
You nod, setting the cup of tea down on the kitchen counter for him. "It's not poisoned." You tease, "although it was tempting." Tovar scoffs and picks up the cup, taking a sip. "So...what brought you to Ireland?" You ask, curious and nosey despite knowing you risk him shutting down on you.
“My friend.” He shrugs, looking down at the cup and then back up at you. “You can actually make a cup of tea that's not shit.” He grunts, knowing that is a compliment from him. “He lived here and I wanted a change so I came and decided to stay.” 
You don't push him, sensing there's more to it and you don't want to risk your newfound ceasefire. "Fair enough. I wanted a change too." You confess and lean against the counter with your cup. "I got tired of the hustle bustle living in the city...it was exhausting."
“You won’t find that here.” Pero promises, pulling his hammer out to start prying the broken piece of wood off the frame. “Unless you count when Garvin’s sheep get out and run amok in your vegetable garden.” He snorts. “Nell, his favorite, never fails to end up walking into the pub like she’s gonna order a pint.” 
You chuckle, "she sounds like a riot." Pero snorts, "a handful." You watch him work, his broad back muscles moving and you bite your lip, suddenly attracted to him. He's been an asshole but you think he's sexy in a mysterious asshole way. "You like it here." You observe, a statement more than a question.
“It’s quiet.” He shrugs slightly, not willing to admit that he’s found more peace here than he had when he returned to his ‘home’ in Spain. “I like quiet. Most are bored to death by it, but there's a tranquility in a slower pace of life.” 
"Sounds like a little piece of heaven." You sigh, cradling the cup of tea in your palms. "Quiet is underrated. People want to live fast but I want to stop and smell the roses...take my time with life. Sorry...too many goddamn cliches." You scoff at yourself.
“People say that, but then they get pissed when there’s no new clubs to go to or activities that aren’t for ‘old people’.” He rolls his eyes and grunts as he measures the wood. “I should go get a piece to replace this and grab that door.” 
You nod, “sure.” You don’t question him anymore or ask anymore questions, deciding to focus on starting a fire to ward off the chilly fall air especially since the door is open. You’re bending over the fireplace when Pero comes back in but you don’t hear him as you remain bent over as you poke the kindling.
Pero frowns, watching you poke at the fire. “You-” He huffs and sets the wood down and walks over to the fireplace. “You’re smothering the fire.” He tells you, taking the poker out of your hand. “It’s not like a wood fire. Peat is finicky, but it burns longer.” 
You want to roll your eyes at him as he tries to tell you how to start the fire. Tired of men explaining shit to you at work, you stand up and let him take over with a huff. “I know how to start a fire. Did it enough times back home. God, you really can’t let people make mistakes, can you?” You ask, confused about why he’s so critical all the time.
Pero snorts and shakes his head. “If you want your cottage to be full of smoke, be my guest.” He snarks back at you, waiting to see if you will take over again. When you don’t, he kneels down and reaches into the fireplace. Pulling out the kindling and the hunks of peat to restack them and pulling his lighter out of his pocket. 
You watch him with intrigue, noticing his strong jawline as he clenches his jaw in concentration. You observe what he does and you take notes for when you start another fire. The hearth is soon full of warmth and Tovar stands up, wiping his hands on his pants. “Thank you.” You tell him, placing your hand on his arm, “sorry I- I’m not good at not being good at things.” You admit softly.
“Don’t worry about it.” He huffs out a small laugh. “Took your grandmother nearly a month of freezing to accept my offer to help her with the chimney.” He has to admit that you seem like you are self-sufficient. Strong-willed. 
You chuckle, “she was stubborn. My dad got that from her. Guess I did too.” You sigh and bite your lip as you lower your hand from his arm. “It’s too damn cold to mess around being that stubborn.” You confess, “even I can admit that.”
“Well, the new door will keep out the wind better and with a good peat fire, your cottage will be nice and cozy.” He promises. “Irish winters aren’t warm, but there is a beauty to them.”
“So I’ve heard. I’m not sure if I’ll be here long enough to see its full beauty. I haven’t decided what I’m gonna do.” You confess and cross your arms, watching as Tovar continues working on the door. “You’re from Spain?” You guess from his accent.
“Sí.” He frowns as he fits the wood in and marks it with the pencil he tucked behind his ear to trim a small sliver off. He grabs his hacksaw and looks up at you. “Seville originally.”
“I’ve never been to Spain. I’ve heard it’s gorgeous. And I think they used Seville for some Game of Thrones locations. There’s so many places I haven’t been that I want to go to.” You sigh, leaning back against the counter. “You must’ve been a lot of places, having such easy access to Europe.”
“It is not hard to travel.” He admits. “But your country is larger than all of Europe combined.” He had been amazed when he had come over to meet his ex’s family. “The flights are short if you want to go on a holiday.”
You shrug, “and expensive as hell. Two hundred bucks average for a flight to another state and nothing as old as what Europe has to offer. I am thinking I might travel to Germany or Austria. Check out the Christmas markets.” You admit, “I miss home but I needed a change.”
“Sounds like more than an inherited house brings you over the pond.” Pero finishes cutting the piece and fits it back into the frame, grunting happily when it fits snugly. He nails it in place as he waits for you to answer him.
You sigh, “I wasn’t happy. I was working twelve hour days. Going on endless first and second dates but couldn’t find a man ready to commit. I was working hard to pay my rent but had nothing left to enjoy myself and I- I got sick of the rat race. I needed to leave the city before it killed me. That kind of life…it gets to you eventually. The loneliness.” You mutter, glancing over at the fire.
He snorts, having no problem being alone himself, but that was after the betrayal. Before then, he had imagined spending the rest of his life with his ex. “If you're alone, only you can disappoint yourself.” He tells you, knocking the last nail in place and starting to take the door off the hinges.
You sense there’s more to his words than he’s letting on but you ignore it, sipping your tea while he works on the door. It doesn’t take him long to get the new one swinging and he adjusts the lock. “There you go, señorita. A new door.” He announces and you snort, “least you could do since you’re the one who tore it off its hinges.”
“It was a shit door.” He grumbles, rubbing the back of his neck before he bends down and picks up his tool box. “Next time I’ll knock to scare away potential thieves.” He tells you before he nods. “Thanks for the tea.” He murmurs before stepping out and closing the door behind him. He had lost a few hours of work fixing your door and now he needs to get back to it.
You huff as he shuts the door behind him, not even saying goodbye and you glance over at the fire. Just when you thought he could be a decent person to talk to, he shuts up again. “Whatever.” You mutter to yourself and get ready to settle in on the sofa to read before you go to bed. You’re not here to be friends with Tovar. You’re here to find yourself.
****
Over the next few days, Pero keeps busy. His home is still a work in progress, the addition done poorly so he’s having to redo a lot of it. Helping William out on his farm when he needs. Keeping busy and keeping his mind off the neighbor. Sure, he’s checked on the cottage when he’s outside or looking out those windows, but he doesn’t make any effort to speak to you again, knowing that you’re nothing but trouble. 
Your days are filled with exploring the village and then working remotely in the afternoon. You’ve actually never felt so at peace. You don’t see Tovar, which is a blessing in disguise. The man still rubs you the wrong way but you find yourself thinking about those brown eyes…even when they are narrowed in hatred towards you. You close your laptop, glancing out at the beautiful sky. It’s cloudy today but still gorgeous so you decide to go for a walk, explore the area some more. After putting on your boots and coat, you lock up the cottage and get started on your exploration.
Pero grumbles at the sky, loading his truck to go help William with the roof of his barn. Wanting to get it done before the rains came again. He gets behind the wheel and starts down the road towards his farm. Traveling about a mile before he sees a figure walking along the wrong side of the road. He scoffs and shakes his head, knowing exactly who it is. Slowing down, he rolls down his window and sticks his head out. “You’re gonna get wet.” He shouts. “Go home.”
You turn your head to see Tovar and you shake your head, looking up at the sky. “Only woman to get wet around you in a while, huh?” You tease with a smirk and he huffs, gripping the steering wheel. “Fine. If you want to get rained on.” You nod, “all part of the experience.” You tell him, “the Irish way of life.”
Pero snorts. “Crazy Americans.” He huffs, handing his hand out the window as he drives past you. You’ll learn. Your coat isn’t enough for the rain that is coming and you will look like a drowned rat if you get caught out in it.
You are stubborn. Something your mother told you was just like your father. Much to her annoyance. You continue walking after Tovar drives off and the wind starts to pick up. You shiver, pulling your coat tighter around you and you look up at the sky as the rain clouds come in. "Bastard." You curse Tovar for being right as you decide to head back to the village.
The last piece of roofing was being nailed into place when the first splatters of rain hit Tovar’s back. “Mierda.” He hisses, glancing up and wincing when a droplet hits him in the eye. 
“Good thing we finished. It’s gonna be a blustery one for sure.” William agrees, wiping his forehead and shoving his hammer back into his tool belt. “You should go home. The sheep will come back and file into their barn quickly and I’m gonna shower and build my fire up.” He tells his friend. “You should do the same.”
You shiver as the rain comes down and you struggle to get back to cottage. The wind is strong and pushing you back as you try to get back as the rain pelts at your face. You curse Tovar for being right. You wish you had gotten a ride.
The rain is coming down in sheets, making it nearly impossible to see in front of the truck as Pero makes his way back to his cottage. He has to admit that he had gotten busy and didn’t look for you like he had thought to. Surely you had turned back and was cozy and warm in your cottage. He believes that until he damn near hits you. Swerving and nearly running off the road to keep from killing you because you’re walking in the damn middle. Cursing, Pero slams out of the truck, instantly drenched by the downpour. “Are you out of your fucking mind?” He yells, running up and grabbing your arms.
Your teeth are chattering so hard you can barely speak as Tovar grabs you and drags you into his van. You shake so hard your vision is blurry as the windscreen wipers work overtime. He slams the door shut and drives towards the village, cursing that he's soaking wet and you know you're both going to get sick from this chill.
The heater in his little lorry barely works, but Tovar blasts it, pointing the vents towards you. “Idiot.” He hisses. “You should have your pants pulled down and your ass whipped until you cannot sit.” He wipes his face and presses the gas, needing to get you home and out of those soaked clothes. “I told you to go home, but you’re too fucking pig-headed to listen.”
Your teeth chatter but you manage to say “fu-fuck you. I- I was on the way home.” You tell him and place your hands closer to his air vents. You desperately want the heat to seep into your bones and you shiver as Tovar races to your cottage.
“You would have already been home if you had listened to me.” He reminds you, taking one hand off the wheel to start shrugging out of his coat. It’s damp, but it has to be warmer than what you have on. “Stubborn Americans who think they know it all.” 
You gasp, inhaling the warm air from the heater. "Wha- what th- the hell is wrong with - why the fu- fuck do you hate Am- Americans?" You ask him, still shaking. You watch as he hands his coat to you. "Put this on." He growls and you don't argue, wrapping his coat around you.
Pero whips his van into the small spot that is closest to your cottage and hisses a curse as he jumps out to run around to your door. Knowing that he needs to get you inside as quickly as possible. Get a fire started and get you stripped out of those clothes. Yanking your door open, he drags you out of the seat and tries to shield you from the rain as much as possible. You are shaking violently and he knows you’re close to, if not already, hypothermic. “Inside.” 
You nod, letting him take you inside. You didn’t lock the cottage - having heard from the villagers that nothing happens - so Pero shuffles you inside and immediately starts to strip off the coats. You should be embarrassed and angry that he’s stripping clothes off of you but you’re so freezing you don’t care. You shiver and he helps you out of your boots. “Wh-why are you doing this?” You ask, watching him as he leaves you in your soaking wet jeans to work on getting the fire going.
“You could die.” He spits, his hands working quick and steady as he stacks the peat and kindling to light. He needs to get you warm and dry as fast as he can. The damp chill could have you sick with pneumonia within a day if you aren’t careful. As soon as the tender starts to smoke, he turns towards you and unbuttons his flannel shirt. Body head is needed. Stomping off towards your bedroom, he strips the quilts and blankets off of it before coming back into the main room. “Can you take your clothes off, or do I need to do it?” 
Your eyes widen at his broad chest as he comes back into the living room with the blankets. You nod, teeth still shattering as you work on removing your wet clothes until you are in your underwear, wrapping your arms around yourself. “Sur-surprised you - you care so much.” You choke out, still freezing cold.
He grunts, rolling his eyes and nearly tells you that he doesn’t care but that wouldn’t be truthful. He doesn’t want to find another member of your family dead. He spreads a blanket on the floor in front of the fire and pushes you towards it. “Lay down.” He orders, immediately starting to strip off the rest of his clothes, including his underwear. He knows you might be prudish like most Americans, but when you are trying to warm up, you can't wear any wet clothes and your panties look soaked. He ignores your gasp and drops to his knees, gathering the rest of the blankets at his back and reaches for your panties, pulling at them to take them off and they shred apart in his hands. 
You gasp, knowing you should push him away but when he pulls you close, into his body, into his warmth, you shudder and inhale deeply. Feeling the sensations come back into your body as you give in and curl around him. Breathing him in, you lift your leg over his, trying to get even closer to him, seeking his warmth.
His hands start rubbing, massaging heat and feeling back into your body. He thinks about anything but the softness of your breasts pressed against him. Knowing that if it weren’t for this serious situation, you would not be naked in his arms. “You’ll get warm.” He promises, feeling you shake and your teeth chatter. Your body is like ice and he shudders slightly as he transfers his heat to you under the weight of the blankets. 
You breathe him in, thankful for him showing up to save you even if you’ve not gotten along so far. His hands rubbing all over your back and you eventually relax, the shivering stopping as you warm up. You kiss his chest, silently thanking him for finding you even if you can’t vocalize that right now as you curl around him, seeking his warmth.
He knows you will get sleepy, it’s your body’s way to try to recover from the energy it had expelled to try to keep you warm. “Go to sleep, espléndida.” He murmurs quietly. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re safe.” He knows that he can’t pull away right now. Even though you are warmer, you still need more of his body heat to fully warm up. 
You mumble into his chest, listening to his beating heart as you fall asleep in his grip, feeling safe despite the man curled around you being insufferable in every interaction you’ve had. You aren’t sure how long you’ve been asleep when you wake up alone, the blankets wrapped around you, the fire roaring and you hear noise coming from the tiny kitchen. “What - Tovar?” You croak, wondering where he went.
His boxers on his hips, Pero appears in the doorway as soon as you call him. “Wait.” He orders, not wanting you to get up. Disappearing again and within seconds, he is coming back into the room with a tray. It was one your grandmother had often served him tea on, so he was familiar with it. Your cup of tea is in addition to a mug of soup. You need something warm in you. The hearty stew was one that your grandmother had canned two years ago, so he knew the rich broth would be good. 
You sit up, keeping the blanket tight to your chest as he carries the tray over and he has his boxers on. Shit, he’s attractive. More than that…he’s hot. Really hot. You swallow harshly, throat dry as he sets the tray down in front of you. “Thank you.” You tell him, looking at him as he sits down next to you. “This is - you poison it?” You tease softly, voice a little raw from the cold wind you breathed in earlier.
He snorts and shakes his head. “Not poisoned.” He huffs. “I just saved your life, why would I poison you?” He asks, picking up the tea and handing it to you. “It’s got honey and lemon in it, your throat will be raw.” He murmurs, blowing on the steaming liquid slightly before he hands it off. 
You take it, your fingers brushing his, and you moan softly as the tea soothes your sore throat. “I- I don’t really know how to start saying thank you for saving my life. I would’ve frozen out there. I didn’t think the storm would come in so quick.” You confess, watching him as the flames and shadows flicker over his face. “I guess I can start by saying thank you.” You say after taking another sip.
“You’re welcome.” Pero is slightly surprised that there’s no sarcasm in your statement. “Almost ran to my house to get some whiskey to pour in it, but it’s still raining outside.” He tells you, the rain beating against the windows. “So, it’s not quite as good as it could be. But I made you some stew.” 
You set the tea down and pick up the mug of broth, taking a sip and you groan. “You made this?” You ask and he shakes his head. “Your grandmother. She made it. Canned it a couple of years ago. She gave me some jars.” He reveals and your eyes widen as you look down at the cup in your hands, “I wish I could’ve known her better.” You sigh, “she seemed like a great woman. I- I’m writing a book about her. That’s why I came here. She fell in love with Ireland and I’m writing a romance novel based on her life.” You confess, “her grand escape to Ireland after divorcing her husband.”
He’s surprised by that, lifting his brows and humming. “A romance?” He should scoff, but he can’t manage the sound to come out of his throat. “I guess Ireland would be a romantic place to escape. If you’re looking for that.” 
You sip your broth before you look at him. “I must admit I had my wild fantasies dreaming about meeting a handsome man in Ireland and shacking up in a cottage to love our lives away but I- I know that’s - it’s silly.” You shake your head, “especially when I literally bumped into you and you hate Americans.”
“You would hate Spaniards if your ex was one.” Pero tells you. “Especially if he had cheated on you. Even though he would be an idiot to cheat.” 
You frown, setting the broth mug down. “You think…your ex was American?” You ask, confused and curious. “And she - shit - she cheated on you?”
Pero sighs, looking out the window. “Sí.” He murmurs. “We were- I met her when we were both stationed on the same base in Iraq. She was with the Americans, I was with …anyway,” he shakes his head. “We got married. She was pregnant. They made her leave her military position and we went to Spain.” He blows out a sigh. “And I found out later that she was cheating on me and the baby wasn’t even mine.”
You inhale sharply, “shit. I- I'm so sorry. That's - Wow. What a shitty thing to do. It’s - that’s monstrous. I’m so sorry Tovar-” You ramble and he cuts you off. “Pero. My first name is Pero.” He says and you nod, “Pero.” You say softly, “I’m sorry that happened to you. No one deserves that. Is that why…why you hate me? Because of my accent? My homeland?”
“She was just as stubborn as you are. Always right and having to have her way.” He shrugs. “I guess that I just don’t like women right now.” He admits after a moment. “I gave my heart to that woman and she tried to pass off the proof of her infidelity as my child.” He growls.
You shake your head, shifting closer to him to reach for his hand. “I’m sorry that happened to you, Pero. No one deserves that. I - I can understand why I triggered that anger in you. That’s unforgivable and I’m sorry someone did that to you.”
That bastard William had told him that you weren’t his ex. Pero rubs his cheek. “It’s not your fault.” He admits quietly. “You aren’t her and I shouldn’t have been an asshole to you,”
You sigh, letting go of his hand, “and I shouldn’t have been a bitch but I’ve never been good at people not giving me a chance.” You confess and sip your tea. “Can we start again?” You ask and he stares at you so you set your cup down, holding out your name. You introduce yourself, “and you are?” You ask, offering him a playful smile.
He grunts, watching you for a moment. “Pero Tovar.” He tells you. “Grumpy asshole from Spain.”
You chuckle, “great to meet you, grumpy asshole from Spain who saved my life.” You add and he shakes your hand. You stare at him, your smile fading as his grip on your hand is tight, reluctant to let go. You keep holding his hand, your eyes searching his as you keep the blankets close to your chest to keep you covered up until you let it drop, exposing your skin to his eyes.
Pero’s eyes widen and drop down to your breasts for a moment before he jerks his gaze back up to your face. “Hermosa….” He grunts, confused as to why you are showing him your body. “You don’t owe me anything.” He promises.
You nod, "I know. I- I'm not saying thank you. Well, I am. But not like that. I - I think you're handsome." You confess, "...sexy." You add and he frowns softly. "If you don't..." You trail off and reach to pull the blankets up your body, standing up on shaky legs. "Do you want a drink? I think my grandma had a bottle of brandy." You make your way into the kitchen, blanket wrapped around your body.
He thinks he’s embarrassed you and he doesn’t want that. He can’t deny you’re beautiful and he had been fighting an erection the entire time you were asleep once you were warm. Standing up, Pero pulls off his boxers and follows you into the kitchen to find you standing at your grandmother’s drink cabinet. “Do you want me to touch you, hermosa?” He asks, bracing his arms on the counter and trapping you against it,  his lips close to your ear. “You are a beautiful woman, and I would enjoy finding out what makes you shake in pleasure.”
You whimper, unable to control the shiver that runs along your spine as he hovers behind you. You want him to touch you. He's been a bastard but you would be dead if it weren't for him. You understand now why he was antagonized by you and you forgive him for his barbs. You lean back against him after letting the blanket drop from your body. "I want you to touch me." You whisper, turning your head to look at him, your lips brushing his chin.
“I’m not gentle.” He warns, knowing that it’s been too long since he has touched anyone and he’s not a suave lover like Garin claims to be. He slides his hand up to grab your breast and squeezes the flesh.
“I don’t need gentle. I don’t want gentle.” You tell him, covering his hand over your breast and you squeeze a little harder. “I want you.” You add, kissing his jaw.
Pero growls, his hardening cock pressing against your ass. “Drop the blanket.”  He orders, pulling you away from the counter and dragging you towards the main room. If he’s going to touch you, it will be in front of that fire so you stay warm. 
You follow his order, nearly tripping over the blanket as he guides you into the living room and you whimper as he lays you down on the blankets you still have piled near the fire. You lay down, waiting for him to touch you as he kneels down near you. “Pero.” You whisper, biting your lip as you wait for him to make the first move.
He watches you for a moment before he lunges forward, his lips smashing against yours in a hard kiss. Covering your body with his and pushing your thighs apart with his knee to settle between them. Groaning into your mouth at the taste of you as his hands fill themselves with your breasts and hips.
You moan into his mouth, your hands caressing his back as he kneels over you, his hands squeezing your flesh. His tongue slides into your mouth and you eagerly grant him access with a low groan of his name muffled against your lips. Your hands slide down to his ass, squeezing and bringing him closer so his cock is pressing against your thigh.
Pero rocks against your thigh, groaning and pinching your nipple harshly. Kissing down your throat and biting down on your shoulder before he ducks his head and sucks your nipple into his mouth to bite.
"Fuck." You hiss in pleasure as he grinds against you and sucks on your nipple, paying it attention until you are swapping over to suck on the neglected one. "Shit baby." You pant, reaching between you to wrap your fingers around his thick cock.
Pero groans at the feel of your hand. It’s been so long since he’s felt any touch but his own. His cock twitches and his hips buck into your grip. He lavishes attention on you, loving the way you moan.
You twist your arm, trying to jerk him off as he surrounds you, the spicy scent of his skin combined with the smoke from the fire he started. Your free hand slides through his hair as he kisses the skin below your breast and you whimper, getting wetter with each kiss.
Pero is a harsh lover, he bites and scratches and fucks hard, but he’s also attentive. He wants his partner to feel good. To drown in him. Scattering bites over your skin, he works his way south, nipping your hip bone. “When was the last time you were devoured, hermosa?” He demands, cutting his dark gaze back up to your face.
Your chest heaves as you look into his dark eyes, hungry with desire for you and you don't remember the last time you were devoured. You shake your head, "I- too long ago. My ex...he didn't - he didn't do that." You confess breathlessly.
Pero snorts, shaking his head at your worthless ex. “Then you will remember this.” He promises. His tongue slides around your hip bone, dragging across your stomach as he settles his broad shoulders between your thighs and pushes them up to rest there. Making a show of settling in to look down at you glistening cunt. “Such a pretty cunt too.” He smirks, looking up at you again as he lowers his mouth to your folds and winking right before he dives in.
"Shit!" You squeak, thighs clenching against his head in surprise as he licks into you like a man starved. "Pero." You gasp as he flattens his tongue against your clit until he decides to suck it between his lips. Your hands tangle in his hair as you slump back to look up at the wooden beams on the ceiling.
He loves eating a woman out. Loves her taste and the way she responds to his touch and effort to make her scream. His fingers slide around your entrance for a moment and then he buries two down to the knuckle and curls up inside you.
You cry out as his thick fingers curl inside of you. Making you moan his name loud enough for the entire village to hear as you buck your hips into his face. His free hand slides up to squeeze your breast and your hand covers his, eyes squeezed shut as he laps at your clit.
Groaning into your cunt, he samples you. Tastes you like you are the finest whiskey or his precious Spanish wines. Pumping his fingers inside you to find the spot that makes your body spasm in pleasure and growling when he finds it
"Fuck. Oh shit!" You hiss, walls fluttering around his digits as he curls them to find that spot that makes you moan. Your chest heaving as you tangle your fingers in his hair, pushing him further into your cunt. "So- yes. There. Cl-close." You pant, stomach clenching.
He growls, sucking your clit in his mouth and pulling on it harshly, before he twirls his tongue around it and starts to flick his tongue over the little bundle of nerves. Pumping his fingers into you faster and harder, wanting to see how hard you break.
You fall apart within seconds. “Oh my fuck - fuck!” You squeal as you clamp down on his fingers, soaking them as you cum for the first time in a long time. Nearly pulling his hair out as you cry out.
He snarls, lapping at you faster and pushing his fingers deeper when you start to cum. Feeling you soak his face as his cock throbs against the blanket on the floor. Working and pushing you through your orgasm with the determination of a man possessed.
He pushes you higher until you have to push his head away, overstimulated, and you feel like your body is on fire from his attentions. “Fuck, I- Pero. I need you.” You beg, “let me - I need you inside of me.”
He grunts, smirking as he crawls up your body. Aching to push inside you and feel those tight walls squeezing his cock like they had his fingers.
You grab the back of his neck when he’s hovering over you to drag him down to kiss him. Your tongue slides against his to taste yourself on his mouth. You reach down to grip his cock again, pumping him as you kiss him.
Pero groans your name into your mouth, almost like a plea. Rocking his hips into your hand and lowering down so you can guide him in. When you notch him at your entrance, he bites your bottom lip as he drills his cock deep into your wet cunt.
You moan into each other’s mouth as he pushes deep in one thrust, making you cling to him as he stretches you out. He’s thick and you are certain you’ll feel him tomorrow if he’s as rough as he claims to be. You wrap your legs around him, the blankets crumpling up beneath you as he starts to move.
Pero doesn’t hesitate. Bracing his hands on the floor beside you, he starts pounding into you at a rough, hard pace. Feeling your walls giving with every deep thrust as he drives himself into you over and over, groaning over how well you are taking him. “Mierda.”
He’s rough and takes what he wants but fuck, you love it. You whine, throwing your head back and he wastes no time leaning in to bite down on the skin above your pulse. Your walls clench around him every time he pushes deep and hits something devastating inside you that no one else has found. “Pero. Shit. Oh God. I- it’s so good.” You almost vibrate as you speak, shaken by his thrusts.
Hissing, he tries to hang onto his control. Feeling it slip as he continues to rock into you. You're so fucking good and it has been the best sex he's had in ....ever. Not even his ex felt like you do. Dropping down to his elbows, he shoves his hands under your back and starts biting along your shoulder, leaving imprints of his teeth with every piercing thrust of his cock.
Each bite on your skin has you clenching around him and you struggle to maintain control until you give in. Whines escape your lips as his pelvis drops into just the right position that he’s grinding against your clit and your heels dig into his ass. “I’m gonna - oh fuck. Pero. Pero!” You cry out, clamping down on his cock and practically shaking beneath him as you soak him with your orgasm.
The shout Pero lets out is hoarse and rough, pushing deep and grinding even deeper for a split second before he is ripping free of your cunt. Panting as he realized he had not spoken with you about birth control and he could not risk filling you up. Coating your belly, breasts and thighs with ropes of his hot seed as he spits out another curse.
You pant, watching him as he pumps his cock to paint you with every drop of seed that drips from his body. His chest heaving and you stare up at him in awe. He’s incredible and you know that all your previous fighting means nothing compared to this perfect moment of bliss. “You- you could’ve cum inside me. I’m on birth control.” You tell him breathlessly, knowing it’s too late now.
“Shit.” Pero hisses, huffing slightly and dropping his head against your shoulder. “I didn’t- we hadn’t- fuck.” He grumbles, rolling off to the side and onto his back to reach off his undershirt to wipe your skin clean.
You watch him clean you up and you turn onto your side to look at him, “it’s okay. Maybe next time you could…?” You trail off, biting your lip as you wait for his reaction. Unsure if there will be a next time.
Pero smirks and nods. “Next time.” He agrees, tossing the shirt off to the side and rubs a hand down your side. “How are you feeling?”
You hum, closing your eyes with a smile on your face. “Better. A lot better. I’m warm and satisfied and - thank you again for rescuing me.” You say as you open one eye to look at him, “you’re not too bad for a grumpy asshole.” You smirk, closing your eyes again.
He snorts, rolling his eyes and sighing, “you’re not bad.” He admits. “For an American.” He adds, smirking himself as he moves his arm and nudges you slightly, seeing if you want to curl against him.
You take the hint, shifting to curl into his side and he quickly pulls the blanket over you. You sigh, breathing him in and kiss his chest, exhausted again after his rigorous fucking. You’ve turned a corner with the Spaniard and you’re interested to see how things go from now on. 
**** 
The sunlight starts to shine through the windows of the cottage, the gap in the curtains letting in light that makes you wince as you wake up. “Pero.” You murmur, shifting to sit up and you pat the space beside you only to find the man you fell asleep with is gone. You frown, calling his name again and when there’s no response, you huff. Deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt, you stand on shaky legs and head upstairs to get ready for the day. Perhaps he had an early start.
“You slipped out of the house like a thief?” William shakes his head and frowns at his friend. “Why would you do that? She deserves better.” 
Pero huffs and rolls his eyes, shuffling guiltily as he looks up the road towards your cottage. “She’ll be going back to America.” He reminds the Irishman. “I don’t need to be getting myself involved in that mess.” 
William snorts, eyeing Pero suspiciously. “I’ve never known you to turn down pleasure. A fling of some kind. Unless you like her more than you are admitting.” Pero scowls again and shuffles, not answering.
It’s been a couple of days since you’ve seen him, which is an accomplishment in the tiny village. You are in the grocery store when old man Sawyer tells you about the village fete. “It’s the harvest festival. In the church hall. There’ll be food and booze of course.” He winks and you chuckle, wondering if Pero would be there. It’s unlikely as he doesn’t like people. “Maybe I’ll see you there.” You tell the older man as you pay for your groceries. “See you there.” He says with a chuckle and you take your bags, pondering if you’ll go to the fete. 
You decide later that you won’t hide away so you get dressed and make your way over to the church hall, shrugging off your coat once you’re inside and there’s music from the local band of teenagers and various tables with food and drinks. You immediately feel eager to mingle. That is until you look around to see Pero standing there with William, his dark eyes focused on you.
“Go talk to her.” William shoves at Pero’s arm, making him stumble. 
Turning, he glares at his best friend. “Amigo….” He growls, warning him not to mess with him tonight. He’s been busy trying to avoid you and here you are, looking prettier than ever. 
“If you don’t, someone else will.” William warns him.
You avert your eyes, pissed off he didn’t even come to see you after he slept with you. You walk over to the drinks table, greeting Gladys who lives down the road from you and she hands you a cup of hot cider. “How are you dearie?” She asks and you sigh, “confused.” You confess and she frowns, “what?” You shake your head, “I’m good, Gladys.” You tell her and she smiles at you, nodding until her gaze shifts to behind you. You turn your head to look and your eyes meet Pero’s. “Hi.” You murmur, fingers flexing around the cup.
Pero looks at you for a moment, studying the anger in your eyes and he feels guilty, guilty for avoiding you. “You’re still here.” That’s what he comes up with to answer you. Hating it the moment it comes out of his mouth, but he won’t take it back.
You stare at him for a second, “I’m still here.” You observe, glancing around the room until your eyes meet his again. “So…you've been busy?” You ask, a little sarcastic but you’ve never been known to be timid, especially when it comes to men who run away from your bed.
“Busy enough.” He grunts, not sure why he even came over. You don’t seem happy to see him at all, not that he can blame you. It’s not like he’s gone out of his way to check in after the other day. He had convinced himself that you still hated him, and had run with it.
You nod, "busy enough to not even stay for a cup of coffee?" You ask, raising your eyebrows at him, "or was it just pity? You felt sorry that I nearly froze to death and you decided to fuck me...or was it so you could brag to William? Tell him you tamed the bitch in Fairy Lodge?" You snort, keeping your eyes on his, refusing to look away.
Eyes widening, he glances over at Gladys to see if she is listening. Shame making his face burn, and in turn, pissing him off. “Nothing could tame you.” He snorts. “I’m not a magician.”
You chuckle, “clearly you are since you made yourself disappear.” You huff, taking a sip of the cider. “If you regretted it, you could’ve just come to see me and tell me that instead of leaving me to think I did something wrong or…or I wasn’t good enough.” You finish quietly.
The sound of your voice is what makes his anger deflate. “I- you’re leaving.” He murmurs quietly. “I - I’m not a casual lover. I don’t sleep around anymore.”
“I’m not gonna stick around and be treated like shit.” You snort, “I could go back to America and deal with American men if I wanted that.” You tell him, setting down the cup of cider just as the band starts to play.
Pero narrows his eyes, hating that you are comparing him to American men. He’s not a boy who plays games, but apparently that’s what he’s been doing with you. “Fine.” He grunts, grabbing your hand. “Let’s dance.”
You let him drag you onto the makeshift dance floor and there's a few elderly couples dancing but everyone has their eyes on you and Pero. "Everyone is looking at us." You murmur and he stares at you, not looking around. 
"Let them." He says, pulling you closer and you don't push him away. 
"You don't care?" You ask, keeping your eyes on him.
“Why would I?” He asks. “People stare because of my scar. They stare because I’m a mean looking bastard.” He shrugs, used to the looks. “Or they stare because I’m holding the prettiest girl here.”
You offer him a soft smile as he looks at you and you reach up to wrap your arms around his neck. "Your scar makes you look dangerous...and sexy. And you look grumpy...not mean. And you think you are not good enough but you are...and I- I wish you would let people in to see that." You finish, cutting your gaze across the room to see Gladys smiling at you and Pero dancing.
“I'm not the man you think I am.” Pero grumbles. “I have done a lot of shitty things, even to you.” He reminds you. He doesn’t want you to think he’s some white knight when he’s not.
You look at him again, “no one is perfect. Hell, you know I’m not. I know you’re not. But…but I think you are good deep down. You’re just hurt.” You murmur, “and I know why but I didn’t - we started off on the wrong foot. We were both mean to the other.”
“We should not fight.” Pero agrees, nodding. Even if he doesn’t feel like you know him enough to make that judgment, it’s nice to have someone besides William believe in him.
“I- I’m supposed to go back to America on Monday.” You tell him quietly, wondering if he will pack your bags for you to get you out of Ireland and away from him, from his mistake of rescuing you…sleeping with you.
“Oh.” Pero frowns and swallows harshly. Knowing that he’s wasted time that he could have been spending with you and quite possibly made this better than it had been. “Big plans back there?” He asks.
“Just work and…and I don’t have to go back. I can change my return flight…or cancel it…” You trail off, “unless you don’t want an American living here full time?” You test him, wondering what his reaction will be.
“You still don’t know how to make a fire worth a damn.” Pero tells you, watching your brows pull together in confusion. “It would be hard for you to learn over there. Bet you don’t even have a fireplace.”
You shake your head as he rocks you both to the beat. “I don’t. I wouldn’t be able to make a fire…I’d definitely forget. So…I think I need to stay to make sure I learn properly. Perhaps you could teach me?” You ask him quietly, preparing yourself for him to practically escort you back to the airport.
“It’ll take a long time.” He cautions, pulling you closer to him. “I’d probably need to check on the fires during the night. Make sure you don’t burn down your granny’s cottage.”
“What a gentleman.” You smile, tilting your head towards his, “I definitely think you’d need to check on them nightly. I don’t think anyone in the village wants a fire. So…it looks like I’m staying - for fire starting purposes only.” You tease, taking a chance to kiss his neck as you lean closer.
Pero groans at the light contact of your lips, turning his head and capturing your mouth in a kiss for everyone here to see. Not caring if they do and telling them all that he wants you. Claiming you in front of them so that there are no misconceptions about what he wants. You.
You cup his cheek, responding to the kiss, and you let everyone see that you are with him. The parishioners all stare and you smile against his mouth. “Come home with me.” You murmur when he pulls back but keeps his forehead against yours.
“Are you sure, hermosa?” He asks quietly, knowing that he had hurt you the last time he had slept with you.
You nod, “I’m sure. I want you to come home with me and show me how to start a fire.” You murmur, stopping as the song comes to an end and you let go of Pero to clap your hands, waiting for his answer.
Pero smirks, willing to take a risk with you when you are also taking a risk on him. Nodding, he motions towards your cottage. “Let’s go, I need to show you a lot of things if you’re going to live in Ireland.” He grunts. “Starting with how to properly leave a party.” It’s all the warning he gives you before he bends down, scooping you over his shoulder before marching off the dance floor with you like a medieval mercenary carrying off his kidnapped bride.
You squeal, giggling as he carries you out of the hall and you cling to him as he strides down the hall. “Where are we going?” You ask as you tilt your head and notice he’s not carrying you to your cottage. “My place.” He says and you are surprised but let him continue his journey, the wind whipping cool on your skin.
You've never been to his cottage, he's well aware of that. Marching down the road and not slowing down a bit. "Best place to start teaching you is where I am comfortable." He admits, slapping your ass. "Kept expecting your granny to come out and catch me with my ass showing."
You chuckle as he sets you down so he can unlock his door. You lean against the wall as he fumbles with his keys, “she definitely would’ve told you to put some pants on.” You tease and he finally opens the door, “and what’s my next lesson?” You inquire as he guides you inside and you see the masculine but cozy cottage he lives in.
He hadn't really thought much beyond taking you home. Getting you here. He hums, his own fire slowly smoldering and the inside of the cottage warm. "Temperature control." He decides. "What to do when it's too hot."
You smirk, licking your lips as you look at him, “and what do you do when it’s too hot.” He smirks back at you, “get naked.” You nod, slipping off your shoes and you work on the buttons of your dress. “I think that’s a smart idea.”
"It is." He grunts, taking off his jacket and then lifting his shirt over his head. "Getting too hot is just as bad as being too cold." He rolls his eyes towards you. "And you know how that feels."
You glare at him playfully and you shrug your dress off, letting it fall to the floor and you move to push your tights down but Pero scoops you into his arms. “I’m still hot.” You tell him, your arms wrapping around his neck.
"Yes, you are." He won't deny that, arms coming around you and sliding down your sides to your hips. "Your panties and bra are what's keeping you hot." He murmurs.
You giggle, “yes. They are.” You let him reach behind you to unclasp your bra as you caress his chest and you lean in to kiss his clavicle as he slides the bra down your arms. You squeal when he grabs your ass, lifting you over to his sofa and he lays you down on it. “Fuck. These need to go.” He growls, pushing your legs apart so he can grab the thin material of your pantyhose and he rips them, making you gasp and wet your panties in arousal.
"Oops." Pero snorts, not even slightly sorry about ripping your pantyhose. He never understands why women wear them, although he can understand under your dress since you are unused to the chill of the Irish weather. He grins and pulls them off your feed and tosses them aside. "Need to teach you to quit wearing that shit." He grunts. "Harder to get to you."
You giggle as he drags your panties down your legs and you spread your legs further apart once he tosses them over his shoulder to expose you to his hungry eyes. “Need to see you too.” You tell him, reaching down to unbuckle his belt.
"Yeah?" He lets you undo his belt, feeling like you want him and it's a thing to savor. It might be a fling, but the look in your eyes is telling him that he should trust that it will be more. "Taken with me?"
You scoff, “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t, Tovar.” You tell him, working on unbuttoning his pants after you toss the belt aside. You reach into his pants to pull his hard cock out, groaning as you get to see him properly. “I want to suck you off.” You tell him, meeting those dark eyes.
"You don't have to do that." Every blow job he's had in the last few years has been begrudgingly given. Complaints about sore jaws or him always wanting head. He had stopped asking for them, stopped her from giving them if she tried to initiate and it's almost like a reflex. Nothing that can be held over his head, until he takes your wrist and realizes what he's doing. "Uh...my ex..." he bites his lips. "She would always complain about it. Or use it to guilt me into something."
You scoff, “she sounds…wow. Lay down.” You order, pushing on his chest and he nods, shifting to lay down on the sofa and you straddle him. “Too Goddamn sexy for your own good. Definitely for my good.” You chuckle, leaning down to kiss him. You slide your tongue against his until you are kissing along his jaw, down his neck, and down his stomach until you reach his cock resting against his stomach. “I want to give you a blowjob. I want to make you feel good. For nothing in return.” You promise and take him into your hand, squeezing him as you look into his eyes as you press your tongue against the slit, tasting his pre-cum.
"Shit." Pero hisses, eyes fluttering closed for a moment before he opens them again. Needing to see you touch him. To see how eagerly you want to touch him. It's not all Americans that are horrible, it was his ex. She was a bad apple. He reaches down and cups your cheek. "Fuck baby," he pants, "So fucking pretty and sweet."
You hum around him as you take him deeper. Loving the way he groans and reaches down to caress your cheek. You love the way his jaw clenches and his cock twitches inside of you as you widen your jaw to take more of his length until he’s hitting the back of your throat and you gag, unused to giving head to a long cock like his.
"Pull off, hermosa." He urges, pulling your cheek up but you shake your head and continue to bob up and down on him. Making him groan as he feels the exquisite bliss of your mouth around him.
You want to make him feel good, look after him like he did looking after you when you nearly froze to death. You moan around him, caressing his chest and you bob your head a little faster.
"Hermosa...." he groans, feeling you starting to pull his orgasm out of him and he doesn't want to cum yet. He wants to make sure that you cum first. "Ride me." He begs quietly, twitching in your throat at the thought.
You won’t deny him. You pull off of his cock, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, and you straddle him. His cock pressing between your folds and you are soaking wet. You look down at him and his hands immediately find your tits. You lift up to position him at your entrance and you slowly sink down onto his cock.
"Mierda." He hisses, rocking his hips up to thrust up into you. Bouncing you slightly and sinking deeper into your tight cunt. "You are so pretty sitting on my cock."
“Not bad for an American?” You tease, starting to rock your hips on top of him. Your heart pounds in your chest as you look down at him and you know you couldn’t leave. Not with this unspoken thing between you. It’s not quite love but it feels like it could easily evolve into it. You lean down to kiss him, bracing your hands on the arm of the sofa behind his head.
He doesn't answer because he wouldn't even know how to answer. It's not because you are an American, but because you are just you. His hands slide up your sides and he holds the back of your head, deepening the kiss as you start to slide your tongue against his.
You rock back onto his cock, your tongue sliding against his and your hands tangle in his hair, moaning into his mouth as you find an angle that makes the head of his cock rub against your g-spot.
“Shiiiiiiiit.” His moan is muffled and he throbs inside you. Loving how you clench down around him and he squeezes your hip with his free hand.
You moan into his mouth, rocking back onto him and he slips out of you. You whine at the loss of pleasure but he reaches down to push himself back into you and you swivel your hips to find the same angle. You soon find it and rock back onto him, getting closer and closer to cumming.
“That’s it, hermosa.” He grunts out, leaning in to bite your shoulder. He lets go of your head, reaching down to start rubbing your clit. Wanting you to cum for him before he spills inside of you,
You whine when his fingers rub your clit just right and you are close. Grinding back onto his cock, trapping his hand between you, you get closer and closer until you cry out his name. “Fuck!” You choke, clamping down on his cock as you soak him with your orgasm.
"Perfecto." He groans, rocking his hips up and driving his cock deeper into you as he takes over. Letting you collapse against his chest as he wraps both arms around you and fucks you through, chasing his own orgasm. Panting out your name as he thrusts one last time, burying his cock deep as he paints your walls with his cum.
You whimper, kissing his jaw as he pants into your ear. “Cum for me, Pero. Cum. Wan- wanna feel it.” You beg, grinding back to try and egg him on as his cock twitches inside of you.
You moan, loving how it feels to have him paint your walls with his hot seed, silently thanking your IUD as he pulses deep. You kiss along his jaw, “feels so good.” You pant, relaxing on top of him.
"Stay." He murmurs, panting as he tries to catch his breath. "I want you to stay, hermosa." He presses his lips to yours again. "I want to be grumpy to everyone else. Not you."
You nod, pressing your lips to his again. “I’ll stay. All you had to do was ask. I’ll stay and I want to see where this goes.” You tell him, kissing his chin. “You’re a grumpy bastard but you’re my grumpy bastard.” You tease, caressing his cheek. You never imagined you’d come to Ireland and find the man you spend the rest of your life with but you have and you don’t know it yet but you have a beautiful life ahead of you with Pero in Fairy Lodge.
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huramuna · 6 months
Text
selkie's song - chapter 1.
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night's watch aemond x wildling shapeshifter ofc work is 18+, minors do not interact, lest ye be smited.
this is wholly inspired by @lonelymagpies depiction of Night's Watch Aemond. please go check out their beautiful work here!
i am also partial to selkies bc irish 🤭 i'm going to take some liberties with wildling lore since we don't know too too much about them and mix some of my own heritage into it (indigenous american and irish) , which i feel would meld really well.
previous | next chapter
word count: 2.2k
content: smut (eventually, specifics will be under the cut of chapters with it), enemies to lovers, canon typical violence, canon divergence, ofc is a menace to Aemond and he kind of likes it
who is she? - I MONSTER • dead! - my chemical romance
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The blood of the dragon runs hot and thick, pulsing through Targaryen veins like molten lava. His mother always snuggled him as a child, citing him as her own personal furnace. 
If only that would come in handy now. Aemond thought he knew cold, way up in the skies, skimming the clouds upon Vhagar’s back, feeling the chill away from the heat of the earth. A frigid autumn breeze going through his window, causing him to bundle up in two blankets— although he usually kicked them off sometime during the night. 
But this— this was cold. Ball freezing, bone chilling, blue lipped cold. He was stuck up in the ass of the North, stationed at the wall, dressed all in black. He puffed up the collar of his cloak, trying to find some respite from the gales of glacial air. 
“Saddle up, Targaryen,” the lord commander grunted. He was a broad man, some disgraced Northman who rose his way up the ranks of the Night’s watch. Aemond could hardly remember his name, “We’re goin’ beyond the wall. Scouts said wildlings gettin’ too close.” 
“Mm.” Aemond grumbled in response, not wanting to waste his energy talking to the ogre of a man when it could be better used for warmth.
The stable boy, no older than nine name days, tugged his palfrey to him, “I’ve got ‘em all tacked  up for ya, prince.” 
“Oy, Ryam,” the lord commander snapped. Lord Ennard Fir, that was the commander’s name, “He ain’t no prince anymore, so stop callin’ him as such. He’s just one of us now, eh? A man in black.” 
Ryam nodded slowly, handing the reins to Aemond. The boy’s face was tinged red as he puffed air into his cupped hands, trying to keep warm. He was a boy from the south, just like Aemond— a butcher’s bastard boy, Ryam Waters. He had accompanied the now scorned prince on his ride up the Kingsroad. He reminded Aemond greatly of Daeron.
“Stay warm, boy,” Aemond said, giving the youngster a stiff nod of his head, “Take the fur from my bed, it’ll help.” 
Ryam puffed out his chest, “Uh huh, your grace,” he giggled, speaking the title in secret. 
It almost made a smile come to Aemond’s lips. Almost. He tried to remember the last time he smiled– it was on that fateful day near Storm’s End, over Shipbreaker’s bay. He was taunting Lucerys, finally being the stronger one, the one who had control. He laughed and smiled like a madman, chasing his nephew on his puny hatchling of a dragon. He felt like a god.
Then Vhagar snapped her jaws, ignoring Aemond’s commands. The sickening crunch of Lucerys Velaryon and his dragon still lived in his mind. It played in his dreams, making them into nightmares. He constantly woke up in a cold sweat, muttering, “It was an accident, it was an accident, I didn’t mean it.”
His eye began to ache and he clenched his jaw as he mounted his horse. Glancing around, he saw that five other men were joining him. He tugged his hood up slightly before his hand rested on his blade. He donned two weapons; a standard issue castle-steel short sword, and the Catspaw blade. He had watched his father carry it for years, he watched his mother brandish it in his name and cut Rhaenyra— and now it was his. 
Not by precedent or bestowment, he actually stole it. When he was being sent to take the black, he pilfered it from Daemon’s chambers. The old fucker already had one ancestral blade, he didn’t need two. It was the only thing he had left of home, besides the sapphire in his socket and his eyepatch. It was gorgeous crafted Valyrian steel and he always kept it on his person. 
His thumb grazed over the ruby gem on the hilt of the dagger absentmindedly as they descended on their journey, spurring their horses further across the threshold of the wall. Lord Fir was at the front, with Aemond holding up the back in their procession of ingrates and outcasts. 
If he told his younger self that he was to be lumped in with bastards, thieves, rapers and ne’er-do-wells, he would’ve laughed in his own face. It was a ridiculous notion for a Targaryen prince to be even entertaining the idea. And yet, here he was. Living it out. 
He wondered what his mother was doing currently. Had she taken Helaena and Aegon to Oldtown with the children? Did she stay in the Red Keep to be squashed under Rhaenyra’s heel? 
“Aemond Targaryen, you stand before Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, protector of the realm,” Ser Westerling had shouted, “You stand accused of treason, conspiracy to commit usurpation, and nepoticide. You murdered Lucerys Velaryon in cold blood above the skies of Shipbreaker Bay.” 
Aemond had been in chains, his face haggard and stubbled from not being able to shave. They stripped him of his eyepatch and sapphire at the hearing, sending him down to his knees with his barren eye socket to behold. 
“How do you plead to these charges?” Ser Harrold asked. 
Aemond said nothing. 
Rhaenyra sat upon the Iron Throne, tapping her finger incessantly against the metal, “Brother. I’ve granted you the courtesy of allowing a hearing to your… crimes, rather than simply sending you to the block. Mayhaps I was too lenient on my decision to let you say your piece.” 
Aemond still said nothing, looking down at the ground. He heard his mother shuffling near him, off to the side in the throne room, murmuring something hurriedly to someone. 
“I have nothing to say. Lucerys is dead— nothing I can say will bring him back or undo what’s been done.” he finally grit out, his voice hoarse from disuse. 
“So, you have no objection to being punished for your crimes? The crime of Kinslaying is the most cursed,” Rhaenyra said, leaning forward, “Mayhaps I will grant you a death by dragon— I would honor you the same way you so graciously honored Lucerys, hm? Mayhaps have Syrax and Caraxes rip you limb from limb and scatter your parts over Blackwater Bay.” 
Aemond didn’t respond.
“Y-your grace,” Alicent spoke up, walking to Aemond and standing in front of him, “Please, have mercy upon him. Your son wouldn’t have wanted this—“
“DON’T YOU DARE TELL ME WHAT MY SON WOULD’VE WANTED,” Rhaenyra bellowed, standing up from her seat, “Your son took away his ability to want anything, and for that there should be repercussions! A son for a son.” 
“Rhaenyra, please,” Alicent murmured, “Please, I can’t lose him— it… it was an accident. Aemond, tell her it was an accident!”
He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to admit their family’s greatest fear was true; they did not have complete control over their dragons. 
Rhaenyra gazed at Aemond’s pained expression, then at Alicent, “He will be punished. But I would not become a Kinslayer— I do not wish to be as accursed as you, brother,” she strode back to the throne, twisting the rings on her fingers, “He will take the black and be sent to the wall. He will have no titles, no land, no wife or children. He will have nothing for the rest of his life except for the Night’s Watch.” 
Alicent was stunned, as was Aemond. He wondered if he would’ve preferred death. 
“In addition,” Rhaenyra continued, “His claim to his dragon, Vhagar, will be severed. He will undergo the Valyrian ceremony for it.” 
“You can’t,” Aemond growled, “You can’t!” he panicked— Vhagar had been the only thing he ever achieved in his life, truly. He lost his eye for her. 
“Take him back to his cell and prepare him for the ride up the Kingsroad.” she said with finality, looking down at her hand as she sat back on the throne. 
Aemond saw— she had been pricked by the throne, blood beading at the tip of her finger. 
Mayhaps there are still small mercies in this world. 
A particularly strong gust of cold air snapped him back to reality, his hand still itching over his dagger. They reached the thick treeline that stretched out for miles, their horses trudging through the snow. 
They were at least ten miles out from the wall now, the Seven Kingdoms left truly well behind them. A small river trickled near them and Aemond saw the shadows of fish— large ones at that. 
He had been in the Night’s Watch for at least seven moons now, and this was his first expedition outside of the wall. It felt like a whole different world— a world without laws, without political duty, without fights of succession over a throne made of swords— there was something freeing about being here. It was only a remnant of what he felt soaring the skies on Vhagar, but it would have to do. 
The wind whistled through the branches of the trees, fresh snow beginning to fall. He heard a fly buzzing near his ear. No, that couldn’t be right. Surely there weren’t flies in the cold? 
It wasn’t right— another fly whizzed past him, sticking into the man in front of him. Those were the arrows. 
“Ambush! Wildlings!” Lord Fir shouted, reeling in his horse. 
Aemond went to unsheathe his sword when his horse went haywire, rearing up on its hind legs. “Lykiri, lykiri!” Be calm, be calm. He shouted at the horse, tugging at the reins as the wildlings descended upon them. He felt like he was above Storm’s End once more, screaming for Vhagar to heed his commands—
His horse bucked him off, sending him tumbling into a deep snow drift. He dropped his sword somewhere aside— his hand immediately went to his waist, gripping around the Catspaw dagger. 
A breath of relief washed over him as he rolled and hid behind a tree, unsheathing the dagger. He twirled it around, waiting for someone, anyone to cross his path. 
He then felt the cool pressure of a blade against his throat. 
“Don’t move, crow,” a voice said. It was almost diminutive, soft in tone— but it was threatening all the same, “I don’t need to paint the snow red with your blood just yet. Drop the dagger.” 
Begrudgingly, he dropped the Valyrian steel into the snow. 
“Now turn around, slowly. Keep your hands out.” 
He turned around, expecting to see an ugly wildling in his gaze. He had only heard the tales of them, that they were more ugly than not. 
His breath caught in his throat as he looked upon her— she was small, much smaller than he, her skin somewhat pale and cool toned, freckles dotting the bridge of her nose. It was her eyes that caught him— one was a deep, rich brown, and the other was a light blue, with fragments and shards of brown in it, like a mountain against a clear sky. Her hair, dark chocolate brown with one streak of white in it, was tied into a haphazard braid. She wore earrings made of the lower jaw of some small mammal, inlaid with opals. She was holding a dragonglass dagger to his throat, the hilt of it carved from a deer’s antler, encrusted with a matching moonstone. 
She wore a long, white coat— it looked to be the skin of some animal, but Aemond couldn’t tell which. It was spotted and fluffed. 
His brow narrowed as he noticed that she was soaking wet, dripping water from her nose and hair, the sheen of moisture shining from her skin.
He could only imagine how astonished he looked staring at her— but she stared back at him in the same manner, her eyes wide. She had huge eyes, Gods be good. 
“Fucking hell, you’ve got a purple eye.” she murmured. 
“You should see my other eye.”
A harsh crack across his face— she had slapped him, “Don’t be a pig.” 
Aemond blinked profusely, “By the Seven— I meant my actual other eye,” he grunted, “May I?” he gestured to his eyepatch. 
“… better be worth it, crow.” she murmured, nodding slowly. 
He lifted his eyepatch off, revealing the sapphire underneath. 
Her lips were slightly agape as she ogled at him, “You’re a fancy crow, aren’t you?”
“Hm.” he grumbled. 
She retrieved the Catspaw dagger from the ground, stowing it at her hip, “I’ll be keepin’ this for right now.” 
“Aren’t you going to kill me?” he asked, perplexed as to why he wasn’t dead yet. 
“Not yet— you got interesting eyes, I wanna show my papa,” she retrieved a leather cord from her belt and wrapped it keenly around his wrists, “Caught myself a crow.” she hummed, seemingly entertained with herself. 
Aemond rolled his eye, letting her hoist him up into a standing position. He towered over her, to which she didn’t seem too bothered about. 
She led him past the battle, which was now over. He saw three of his Night’s Watch brothers slain, and it looks like two others had run off like cravens, including Lord Commander Fir. 
“Where are you taking me?” 
“My tribe,” she replied, stringing him along. 
“Your… tribe,” he repeated, “And what is your name?”
“Euna. And you, crow?” 
“Aemond.”
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