#silver drop earrings ireland

[arrowofcarnations]

O’Knutzy Week Day FIVE! (The end!)

The last part of Triwizard Cubs for @oknutzyweek2023, featuring fluff, fluff, and more fluff. This (finally) completes my bingo row of A1-A5! Woohoo! :)

Characters by @lumosinlove—thank you as always for letting us play in your universe. And a very happy belated birthday to our beloved Finn O'Hara! <3

Day 5: Summer Vacation (A3)

Leo had woken up from their Room of Requirement nap with Finn's body still tucked safely against his and happiness filling his chest. He was happy as he found Logan's green eyes calmly watching him on Finn's other side, and as he got to see Finn's copper lashes flutter as he slowly surfaced from the depths of sleep. He was happy when he kissed them, and when they did a little more than kiss, before they hastily redressed and snuck back out of the enchanted room, grinning knowingly at each other as they rejoined their classmates in the Great Hall.

He was happy when he won the Triwizard Tournament. A little shocked, maybe, but definitely happy as the raucous applause from the Ilvermorny camp (and quieter, polite applause from the Hogwarts and Beauxbatons contingents) roared in his ears and the gleaming silver trophy was pressed into his dirt-streaked hands. It mixed with a little guilt as he found Logan and Finn's eyes, but they looked so genuinely thrilled for him that he turned away from any bad feelings and leaned into the good.

Leo felt a bittersweet kind of happiness—the kind that presses on your lungs when you're exactly where you want to be but you know you can't stay long—as they shared a bed on his and Logan's last night in the castle, all urgent mouths and gripping hands and tangled sheets. He felt it even more sharply the next day as they lingered at the castle gates the next morning, the spring chill and dew-soaked grass making him want to crawl back into the warm sanctuary of the previous night even more.

A moment of nervous dread as Finn turned those doe eyes up at him. It's been fun, he braced himself to hear. I like you, but you're leaving. Too hard, scattered in three different countries, their studies coming to an end, the next chapter of their lives unfolding and taking them Merlin knows where. Bad timing. Won't work.

A flicker of hope as Finn actually said, "Can I come visit this summer?"

The happiness slowly returning, buoyed by hope, as Logan pulled them both into a crushing hug. It filled him up as he mumbled "you better" into Finn's neck. It made tears spring to his eyes as they made plans—a week in Nice, another in Galway, and another at his family's home in New Orleans. They'd all have to talk to their parents, of course, and sort out all the details, but that didn't matter just then; what made Leo happy-cry as he kissed them both breathless was that he got to say see you soon instead of goodbye.

His parents' happiness amplified his own as he spent a glorious weekend soaked in Southern sunshine before he had to be back in New England for his last few months of school. Whether they were more overjoyed at the news of his victory or his love life, he couldn't say, but he knew what he was happiest about as he scribbled hasty notes to Logan and Finn—apologizing to Kermit as a drop of ink splattered on his tiny green head—telling them they were welcome to come stay the last week in June, and that they could go to Lo in July and to Ireland for Finn's birthday week in August, maybe, if they wanted to.

They did.

If you asked Leo's friends and family what his happiest moment was, they might say it was when he received his Ilvermorny letter, or the first time he took flight on his very own broom, or when he won the Triwizard Tournament, or graduating at the top of his class.

But they'd be wrong. It actually, at least so far, was the moment Finn O'Hara and Logan Tremblay appeared in his family's old brick fireplace to spend part of their summer vacation here with him, far too warmly dressed and grinning like fools.

Or maybe it was the moment Logan drew him into his arms for one of his tight, all-encompassing hugs, ending the torture that was going weeks and weeks without it. ("Bonjour, Knutty, missed you.")

Or when Finn joined right in and wrapped his arms around both of them, laying his head on top of Leo's as he breathed a "finally."

Then again, the moment he pulled each of them in for dizzying reunion kisses could top the list.

Maybe he couldn't settle on just one moment. But as he led them into the bright kitchen where his mama had insisted on cooking up a feast, their hands a perfect fit in his, he knew there would be plenty more to come.

[earsense]

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[angelhearttreasures]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Handmade Silver Plated Celtic Knot Chains & Howlite Dagger Bead Dangle Earrings.

[malfoysstilinski]

the rose garden | DRACO MALFOY (SMUT)

MASTERLIST 

Draco Malfoy x Reader

SUMMARY: Draco fucks Y/N in his mother’s rose garden. 

REQUESTED by anonymous “Could I request were draco and his girlfriend has been together for a year or 2 and their parents are really good friends. Y\Ns parents are also death eaters. And y/n is slytherin. It would be their 5th or 6th yr? Preferably a smut?” 

WARNINGS: smut, public sex, extreme dirty talk, slut shaming, blowjobs, face fucking, fingering, riding 

Hogwarts was out of session for the summer, and due to students living all across the United Kingdom and Ireland, it meant a lot people didn’t see their significant others for a long two months or so. However, fortunately, that was not the case for you and Draco. 

You didn’t live far from each other and your parents were all friends-- they had been since before you and Draco were even born. They had been loyal followers of Lord Voldemort and passed them down to the two of you even after he was gone. 

Whilst you questioned some things, you never said it out loud, and neither did Draco, allowing your parents to think that the two of your were perfect for each other. It was probably one of the only things that they were right about. 

You and Draco had taken the Hogwarts Express together, you’d been sorted into Slytherin one after the other, you had all of the same friends-- Blaise, Pansy, Theodore, Daphne, Crabbe, Goyle-- and during your fourth year, after dancing with each other all night at the Yule Ball, you’d kissed and realised that maybe what you had had been more than a friendship this entire time. 

For nearly two years now, you and Draco had been dating. Despite being such a dick to everybody else, Draco treated you exactly how you deserved to be treated-- like a real princess. In his eyes, you were a princess. The most beautiful of them all. Especially around your parents, who adored him as much as his parents adored you. 

Currently, you sat beside each other at the Malfoy’s dining table, Lucius and Narcissa sat at the heads of the table whilst your parents sat opposite the two of you. A starter of some sort of soup was in front of you and you took small spoonfuls delicately, portraying the table etiquette that you’d learnt before you could even spell properly. 

“Y/N, how was your fifth year?” Narcissa asks softly once the conversation changes from your father’s business to the new Potions teacher Hogwarts was supposedly getting next year. 

You smile politely as you glance up at your boyfriend’s mother. You’d always liked Narcissa, she was the more loving of Draco’s parents and you could tell that she genuinely cared about Draco. You were sure Lucius did too, but the blond-haired man often refused to show emotion which you knew took a toll on Draco growing up. 

“It was great, thank you, Mrs Malfoy,” you say, “I spent a lot of it studying for my O.W.Ls, which went well.”

“That’s great, Y/N,” Narcissa smiles back. 

The rest of dinner seems to go by swimmingly, your parents mainly talking to each other but making small talk with the two of you as well. You’d all known each other all your lives, so it wasn’t really awkward at all. You’re finishing off the last of your drink when you feel a palm touch your thigh. 

You know better than to react. 

Draco’s cold hand smooths up and down your soft skin whilst he talks with your father and his father about something to do with the Ministry, your mothers both engrossed in Narcissa’s latest additions to her personal garden. Your father makes a joke that has Lucius laughing and Draco chuckling politely, your mouth absentmindedly forcing a small smile to act like you were listening, but all you can focus on is Draco’s hand. 

He’s such an asshole. 

You nearly shiver in delight as his slender fingers trace up and down your leg, growing warmer the longer they resided there. However, when you feel the pad of his index finger make contact with your sex, sliding underneath the thong that you’re wearing tonight, you purse your lips and grip the table, shocked. 

He swipes his finger through your folds, gathering up the arousal that’s already there and swiping it across your clit. He starts to rub at it agonisingly slow, making you bite down on your lips lightly. You grab your drink and lift it to your lips to distract yourself, but you choke slightly on it when Draco rubs it at the perfect pace, spikes of arousal coursing through you and dampening your panties even more. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” Narcissa asks worriedly, “You’re looking rather flushed.”

“I’m fine,” you breathe out, forcing yet another smile. “I’m just feeling rather... hot, that’s all.”

“If you would like, you and Draco could step outside for some fresh air before desert is served?” Narcissa offers, her face brightening, “Oh, Draco, you can show Y/N the new roses I put in the garden.”

“They’re all the way at the back, mother,” Draco began to complain, before something mischievous flashed in his silver eyes, “Oh, well I suppose it’s only polite I do so. Come, Y/N.”

He retracts his hand from your leg and stands, offering it to you. You send a weak smile to Narcissa and take his hand, your mothers cooing happily as Draco leads you out of the dreary dining room. As soon as you’re out into the fresh air, you shove Draco with a small glare. 

“You dick!” You grumble at him, “Look, in the common room is one bloody thing, but in front of our parents? Merlin, Draco! If I got off in front of my father I would never be able to look him in the eye again. Especially if we had been caught!”

“But you liked it really, didn’t you, my little slut?” Draco growls, turning and grabbing your jaw with his slender fingers. “You love it when I get you off in front of people. Your cunt aches at the thought of nobody knowing what’s going on beneath the table.”

You whimper at his words, reaching up and placing your hand on his wrist. Draco smirks and looks back at the house. 

“Come on then, Y/N,” Draco drawls, “Since you made such a fuss, I guess I must show you the rose garden now. Such a brat...”

Draco never talks to you like this in normal day circumstances, so you know what’s coming. This is foreplay for the way he’s probably about to bend you over and fuck you outside the house your parents are currently sat inside. 

You can’t wait. 

You feel yourself grow slick at the thought, slightly dampening your thighs as he sends you a look and jerks his head, gesturing for you to go up the path first. As soon as you’re in front of him, you feel his large hand smack against your ass, making you jump a little. 

He grabs your arms from behind, forcing you against his front and pressing his lips to your ear. You can feel his erection pressing against your back.

“Be a good girl,” he hisses, his breath smelling faintly like the alcohol he’d been drinking with his dinner.

You make it towards the end of the garden and Draco whirls you around before dropping down onto his mother’s favourite bench. The seating was wooden, however, the arm wrests were dark green serpents, Draco’s hand curling around them as he parted his legs wide. 

His silver eyes glinted with mischief, daring you to come closer. 

“Draco,” you breathe. 

“Come on, princess,” Draco unbuttons the top of his trousers. “On your knees. Show me how much you want me.”

Without thinking much at all, your brain foggy with arousal, you drop down onto your knees in front of the bench, unzipping Draco’s smart trousers. He sits up a little to help you drag them down his thighs. You reach to pull at the waistband of his underwear, pulling it back an inch and then letting it go so it snapped lightly against his erection. 

Draco hisses in a mixture of pain and pleasure and grabs your wrist, glaring down at you. 

“Enough,” Draco snaps, “Put your lips where they belong, slut. Around my fucking cock.”

You nearly moan out loud at his words, this time actually peeling his underwear down so that his erection sprung out the top. It was red and angry, the vein along the shaft practically pulsing beneath your gaze as precum made itself present at his tip. 

You lean up further on your knees, one hand on his thigh and the other moving out to gently grasp his dick. Draco groans under his breath, eyes focused on you as you jerk slowly up and down his length, your thumb gliding out to swipe the precum off. Draco relaxes further against the bench, a drowsy smirk crossing his face when you lean forward and take him in your mouth.

“Good little slut...” he drawls, his lanky hand reaching out to run through his hair, tugging at it slightly when you suck your cheeks in, making your mouth feel so much tighter around him. “Fuck, Y/N. So fucking good for me. Best cock sucker there is.”

You moan around his cock, your hand moving to jerk off the part that you couldn’t quite reach with your mouth. Your tongue runs up and down him, feeling his vein and making its way up to the tip where you give it kitten licks. 

“Mm, stop teasing,” Draco grunts, his other hand moving out to grab your head. 

He keeps your head still and you know what’s coming. Slowly, he begins to thrust his hips, driving his cock in and out of your mouth so that his tip hits the back of your throat every now and then. You make slight gagging sounds, your eyes watering as spit coats his length. Draco loves the sight, he wishes he could take a picture. 

He stops thrusting his hips, finding it tiresome from his position sat down, and instead uses your head like you’re a toy, forcing you up and down his cock. You moan, hands grabbing his thighs, focusing on breathing in and out of your nose. 

Before he can cum, he pulls you off of him abruptly, a string of spit joining your lips and the tip of his cock. Draco smirks and brushes your lips with his thumb. 

“My beautiful little cock slut,” he mutters, sitting further back against the bench. “I think that you’ve deserved some fun of your own, don’t you?”

“Yes, Draco,” you pant, nodding. “Please.”

“Since you asked so politely.”

Draco reaches forwards, hands on your waist as he tugs you towards him. You fall so that you’re straddling his body on top of the bench, out in the open where anybody could see you. He tugs up your tight dress and grabs at your ass, squeezing it and leaning forward to lick a stripe up your cleavage which is on show from your dress. 

You can feel his cock brushing against your soaking heat. Your clit is throbbing so bad it nearly hurts, whines leaving your lips as Draco grabs the thin straps of your green bodycon dress and tugs them down, revealing your breasts to him. As his mouth dives forward to grab one of your nipples in his mouth, you can’t help but lower your body, grinding down against his hard cock and making him groan against you, vibrations running through your body. 

“You’re soaked,” he mutters, pulling away once he had left a hickey on your breast where it wouldn’t be seen in your dress. “Such a fucking slut. You get off letting me fuck your face, don’t you?”

“Mmhmm,” you’re too aroused to really know what you’re agreeing to. All you know is that you need Draco to do something before you explode. “Please.”

“Please what? Use your words.”

“Please fuck me, Draco,” you beg him, “please make me cum.”

Draco smirks and reaches to grab your waist harder. You lift up on your knees more and watch as one of his hands disappears between you both. You feel the tip of his dick brush against your eager folds and you whine even louder, biting you lip and nodding at him quickly. 

“Please, please, please.”

Draco guides it through your soaked sex before he finds your hole and takes one more look at you. The nod of consent is all he needs before he plunges himself into you. You both moan, breaths hitching in your throat. As you slide down so that you’re sat on his lap, his cock buried balls deep inside your pulsating heat, you feel so full, like if you were to put your hand against your stomach then you would feel him there.

“So fucking tight,” Draco hisses between gritted teeth. “Come on, slut. Ride me.”

You obey his command, growing slicker at his choice of nickname for you. Your hands move to his shoulders and you use them to help you bounce up and down on top of him, inches slipping out before being forced all the way back inside you, hitting spots that you didn’t know existed. 

Draco was panting slightly beneath you, his silver eyes flickering from where he could see his cock coming in and out of your pussy, slick with your arousal, and up to your face where your head was thrown back in pleasure as you whined and moaned. 

“So beautiful.” He reaches up and grabs your neck. “Look at me.”

You listen to him, feeling his fingers tighten around your neck and slightly blocking your airway. You feel lightheaded in the best possible way, eyes fluttering and your walls pulsating more around his cock as it drives in and out of you. Draco realises you’re starting to feel hazy and starts using his hips so he can pound up into you harder.

The sounds of your bodies colliding and your soaked pussy that normally embarrass you but turn Draco on don’t humiliate you today. You’re too focused on the grip he has on your neck and the way he keeps his pace thrusting in and out of you-- like it’s his only purpose in life. You know you’re going to cum soon.

Draco’s face dives forwards and nuzzles back to your breasts that are bouncing right in front of him. He licks and sucks and bites anything he can, his hot breath fanning your skin and making you cry out. 

“Draco,” you cry. 

“That’s it,” Draco grunts, forcing a few extra hard thrusts. “That’s it, Y/N. Fucking slut. You’d let me do anything to you. Such a fucking whore.”

You can tell that he’s close from how his hand has moved from your neck to your clit. His fingers create hard figures of eights against your throbbing bud, coating his digits in your arousal. You moan louder, this time driving your hips up harder and faster to keep up with his thrusts.

“Come on, Y/N,” Draco hisses, “you gotta cum for me. Cum all over my cock.”

His words are enough to send you toppling over the edge, your loudest moan yet half-buried by your teeth sinking into Draco’s shirt-clad shoulders. Your walls clench and shudder around him, tightening against his cock and causing his eyes to scrunch shut. Your breathless whisper of his name once your orgasm rolls by has him cumming straight after you. His hot seed shoots up inside in spurts, coating your walls and making you whine out against him again. He thrusts a couple of more times before he pulls out. 

“Mm, Dra- Draco,” you mutter as he pulls you off of him and pulls the top of your dress back up. 

Draco chuckles as he fixes his own underwear and trousers, pulling your dress down for you as you slide your panties back up. He presses a loving kiss to your lips. 

“Not too much, was it?” Draco asks worriedly. 

“No, that was perfect,” you admit, stroking some of his hair back into place. 

“Good. I agree. Now, let’s get back to our parents. Desert must be ready soon.”

-

my mum came extremely close to catching me write this so i hope it was worth it honestly 

[blueberryrock]

Funeral Suit (Inktober Day 9 Thranduil x Reader Part 1/???)

A/N you might've noticed that I wrote this down as part 1/??? and it's because I really liked this fic idea and plan on leaving it here and pick it up after Inktober! And I HIGHLY recommend listening to it, this is the original version on the album while this is a live version of her singing it, i honestly prefer it more, so please check her out, she is one of my favorite singers, anyways, please enjoy the fic <3

Leaning against the wall, Y/N stretches out her legs as far as she can, keeping her knees bent and her feet resting on the bottom of the railing, tears slowly rolling down her cheeks freely. Her blurry eyes watching passerby's talking and laughing, she knows she should be down and out there, but Y/N can't. She can't without seeing him, his pictures on every surface with candles next to it.

Wrapping her arms tightly around her quivering body, she squeezes out more tears. Letting out a small sob, Y/N leans her head against the wall, staring up at the ceiling, wishing for this day to end, wishing nothing more than crawl to her room and hide.

But this isn't her house, nor is it her Uncle Bilbo's house, upstairs is nothing but an empty room and her bags. Her hands shakily reach towards her shoulders, undoing her long braid gently, letting her long hair fall in waves around her shoulders.

Her eyes gently following the small crowd in the living room, locking onto a strangely tall man surrounded by her much shorter relatives and friends. Letting out a shaky breath, Y/N wipes her tears away, moving to properly sit on the stairs, her long black dress falling neatly at her feet as she kicks her heels off, sending them down the stairs.

Combing her hand through the ends of her hair, she hears someone slowly approaching her, but Y/N pays no attention to it, especially when the stairs are near the bathroom. Slowly closing her eyes, Y/N lets her hand wander higher through her hair before bringing it back down.

Opening her eyes to find a pair of long legs clad in black next to hers, Y/N's eyes trailing up to find a torso and a handsome face. Their eyes meet for a split second before Y/N turns her head, hiding behind her wavy hair. She can tell he's still looking at her, Y/N wants to tell him to go away until she remembers that he is technically her guest.

"You must be Y/N," his voice sends shivers down her spine, detecting a mixture of accents, she brushes her hair behind her ear to look at him.

"And you must be Mr. Orophe-"

With a small smile, he interrupts her. "Please," he says. "Any family member of Thorin can call me Thranduil."

"Well," Y/N hums, her hands moving down to play with her dress. "That's a lot of family members."

"And they are all so kind," Thranduil says, his gaze turning from Y/N to the small crowd. "And," he says, his smooth voice dropping lowly. "They are so short."

That earns him a smack on his shoulder. "We are originally from the USA, a few generations ago they moved from the southern region to Scotland."

"Ah," he says, his silver eyes turn back towards her. "That makes so much sense now, your Uncle Thorin wasn't too keen on sharing where he was from, I'd always guess but he would never tell me if I was right or wrong.

Thranduil turns once more away from her, looking towards the front of them. "So where are you from? You don't seem to have the trademark family accent."

"Ah no, I was born in Ireland, but Bilbo took me with him to England," Y/N mutters. "That's where he met Thorin when he was stationed there, with you I believe."

"No need to remind me of that," Thranduil chuckles. "I'm sure Thorin has told you many stories about me and him in England."

Y/N smiles fondly for the first time in weeks. "I remember him telling me about the time you two covered all the drainage pipes by the dorms," Y/N starts, her eyes locking onto Thranduil to watch his face change from the memory. "And then it rained."

Thranduil lets out a small bark of laughter before a grin settles on his face. "Your Uncle and I never got caught for that one," Thranduil's eyes shine bright under the dim light.

"Mmm, I remember some stories ending like that," she giggles. "And some didn't."

"Those were always the fun ones," Thranduil says, tossing some of his slivery hair behind his shoulder. "Mainly because our higher-ups always liked me."

"How could they not?" Y/N smirks. "You probably had the nicest face and hair out of all of them." Not entirely noticing what she had said.

"That is true," he sighs. "But erm, if you don't mind me asking, how long will you, Bilbo, and your cousins be staying here?"

"No I don't mind I suppose," Y/N hums, moving her hands to be on either side of her, slowly picking at the carpeted stairs. "But Bilbo is only borrowing this house, so I suppose as long as we'd like?"

Y/N brings her hands to wrap around her knees, making sure her dress covers everything. "But Thorin was supposed to be helping me choose apartments this week." She whispers.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he mutters, his hands falling to fidget in his lap.

"It's nothing that you did," she says, slowly moving her hand to place one on his. "This whole month has just been so stressful, he was helping me find my little slice of paradise in London or trying to at least. It doesn't help when I can't tell anything apart in that city."

"So you don't know where Bermondsey or Shoreditch is?" He smirks.

Y/N frowns as she stares at him, trying to figure out if those places are even in London. "I honestly don't know the difference, or if they are even in London."

"Well, I can tell you right now that they are," Thranduil says gently before leaning closer towards her. "Because I live in one of them."

"Really? They don't seem to be a place where a CEO would live."

"I thought you didn't know anything about them."

"Well, I know a little bit about them."

With a slight tilt of his head, a devilish grin crosses his face. "Regardless, I could help you look you know, but only really in those two areas." He mutters, his eyes quickly glancing from her face to somewhere before the stairs. "But I could look at other places of course."

A small smile flutters to Y/N's lips, watching him flusteredly try to speak. "Either or works fine for me, it's just going to be me, Bilbo, and Frodo tomorrow and the next day, the whole week....." She trails off, her eyes beginning to burn.

"You'd have to ask Bilbo of course," Thranduil says, drawing her attention back to him. "But I wouldn't be opposed, but I would have to come later in the day, today was the only one I could miss."

"Well we are glad you could make it," Y/N says softly. "I highly believe that Thorin would be upset for you missing his only funeral."

Thranduil lets out a sad sigh. "That is true," he mumbles, his hand moves to dig into his suit jacket pocket. "I wish I could stay here longer to talk, but alas I must go. How rude would it be considered with your family if I gave them an Irish goodbye?"

"Very."

"Well then," Thranduil says, sliding his phone back into his pocket. "Would you like to come and say goodbye with me?"

"I suppose," Y/N says. "It would be rude of me not to, although I will say that before....this....I've probably never met any of them."

"Isn't that what all family gatherings are about?" Thranduil hums, carefully pushing off the stairs and onto the hardwood floor.

Y/N sucks in a breath, not realizing just how tall he was, she should have realized with how long his legs are. Feeling her face heat up slightly, she follows suit and finds that she goes only to his collar bone, making her crane her neck to see his face.

The dim fluorescent light above Thranduil makes her hair seem to glow, and it highlights his high cheekbones. Y/N can feel her face becoming darker as they stand there quietly, but the sound of tinkling glass breaks their small bubble of silence.

"Shall we?" Thranduil asks, tilting his head once more, allowing his silvery hair to fall nearly on one side.

"Yes." Thranduil takes the lead out of the stairwell, the dim candle lights dancing across everyone.

It was already late in the evening when Y/N had made her daring escape. Most of her family had left, leaving only a small handful, Y/N, Bilbo, Frodo, and not to mention Thranduil.

Scanning the small living room to find Bilbo and Frodo staring at her through the small window that shows the kitchen, she can see Bilbo trying not to frown when he sees Thranduil behind her.

As Thranduil pauses to formally say goodbye to every person, Y/N just gives everyone a silent wave, not really wanting to focus on anything in the room. Her feet took her gently towards the kitchen.

"How are you doing," she asks gently, Y/N's eyes softly scanning her Uncle's face.

"I'm fine right now my dear," he gives her a small smile. Y/N moves closer to Bilbo, taking one of his hands gently, and rests her head against his shoulder. "How are you? I saw that pesky old Thranduil follow you upstairs. He didn't bother you did he?"

"No," Y/N whispers, her eyes landing on the tall man in question through the window. "In fact, he has cheered me up a bit, I'm surprised he hasn't visited us sooner, he is quite nice."

"Oh is he now?" Frodo's voice calls out in a teasing tone. "I'm not surprised you've gone and latched yourself to the only blonde here."

Y/N's face goes red, looking around for something soft to throw, she finds a leftover oven mitt and throws it squarely at him. "He is quite literally the only non-family member here! And I'm not latched, he has just been really nice, and I needed it tonight," she mutters the last part.

"Well don't get oh so attached," Bilbo mumbles. "I've never seen him be nice to anyone after the first meeting."

"Well then I am in a pickle," Y/N says, turning to face Bilbo. "I have invited him over tomorrow, just to talk more."

"Just know that I warned you," Bilbo says, rubbing Y/N's shoulder. "You should get some sleep, I know you've been up since five this morning, so please try and get some rest."

"Will do Uncle," she says, giving him a big goodnight hug, turning to Frodo to stick her tongue out at him.

Leaving the kitchen to find Thranduil at the front door, all of her relatives gone, the quietness of the house slowly crushing her as she approaches him. "I thought you would have left now."

"You said the Irish goodbye was rude," Thranduil crosses his arms over his chest. "I just wanted to wait and say goodnight."

Y/N waddles closer, her face nearly touching his chest. "Thank you for keeping me company," she whispers, her hands slowly playing with the ends of her hair.

"Thank you for being such wonderful company," Thranduil smiles, making her blush slightly. Holding out his hand, Y/N stares at him in confusion.

Does he want a handshake? Y/N wonders, shyly lifting her hand to his. "I hope to see you tomorrow," he says before bringing her hand up to gently kiss it, making her blush tremendously. "Red is a good look on you," he grins evilly.

With a smack on his shoulder, Thranduil calls out goodnight to the others, no doubt judging her in the kitchen before he slips past the door.

Looking down at the back of her hand, Y/N stands in shocked silence. Frodo always said that she'd miss signs until she ran face-first into them, this must be one of those signs.

[gwynbleiddyn]

[ WRITETOBER / CAPTOBER: DAY THREE – WOLF & FLOWERS]

consider: eivor got fucked up by those spicy werewolves in ireland and he hasn’t been right since he returned oOOooOOo what could it be we simply have no idea--

Wolf-kissed, they call him. 

Eivor hears laughter from behind closed doors as he stalks his hall, listening to faceless voices pitying the misfortune of a man twice-bitten and left alive to face the ridicule. 

His blood burns hot enough to make his skin crawl. His fingers twitch at his sides where his hands lie, suddenly eager to punch through the wooden slats that separate him from the voices and close around their throats until their words stop. 

Except he knows those voices. He loves those voices. 

Sigurd’s laughter is unmistakable, as is Randvi’s gentle admonishment that follows. Still, Eivor’s throat closes around a bitterness that has clawed its way from his lungs, ready to spill the moment he sees them. He bites down as if the physical barrier of bared teeth would see those words splinter into nothing, but he only tastes the copper tang of blood from where his too-long canine slices the edge of his tongue.

It’s the first drop that makes Eivor see red. 

The warm firelight of his hall is twisted into spitting flames, as though Muspelheim’s wrath has seeped through the cracks and into this very hall. The smoke clouds his vision - or is it something else? He can’t tell. His belly churns with a sudden, ravenous hunger, face aching with the split of his snarling mouth, and he stumbles forward away from the dissonant voices of the vestibule where Sigurd and Randvi linger, clinging onto a shred of sanity that tells him he must leave, now.

The doorway at the far end of the hall is open, moonlight spilling through like a lucent lure. 

Eivor feels something solid slam into him, jumping sideways when he hears the clattering of metal and wood hitting the floor. A spilled tankard rolls in front of him, alerting him to the mess he’s leaving in the wake of his clumsy desperation, pulling himself from table to column as the walls begin to close in around him like his own hall is trying to spit him out. There is a rot here, and it knows. 

Whimpering, Eivor refocuses on the moonlit doorway. His heartbeat thumps in his ears and throws him off balance, vision blurring rapidly as his hunger begins to consume him. The door is close. The light is bright and soothing. But something obscures it now, a figure shrouded in silver skeins as the moonlight struggles past it regardless. 

“Eivor?” 

Eivor knows the voice well. He reaches for it, and his fingers are gnarled, crooked claws that snag on the thick material of a cloak. He flinches at the sight of it, another whimper slipping from bared teeth as his eyes flick up to find something, anything familiar in the red-hue of his hunger. 

“It’s me,” the man speaks again, low and comforting. Eivor can feel the way the man’s chest rises and falls with a stuttering breath. “It’s Vili.” 

Vili. Eivor repeats the name clumsily, his sharp teeth marring the word before it escapes. His hand travels up to the man’s throat unbidden, fingers curling around him, but they grow still and Vili lets out a slow breath. It’s then that Eivor notices the cuts and bruises lining Vili’s face, the ridge of his brow freshly scarred, his beard damp with rain. The scent of mulch and mud clings to him, and Eivor’s nose wrinkles as the tang of blood fades sharply beneath the cloying scents of the forest.

As soon as the bloody scent leaves, the red-haze begins to diffuse. Moonlight, soft and soothing, fills more of Eivor’s vision, and he now knows the man he’s holding onto.

Vili. He’d sent him out earlier to find--

“I found it,” Vili interrupts before even can even speak his thoughts aloud. He brings a gloved hand up, brandishing a stem laden with purple flowers, drooping beneath the weight of raindrops and carrying a bitter, lip-curling smell. Eivor almost recoils until Vili brings his free hand to pry Eivor’s grip away from his throat. “Wolfsbane, Eivor.”

[theoriginalladya]

Sunday Snippet

From one of my AU projects for Caleb Shepard...

Setting: present day (2021) Ireland

~~~

Brigit leads him along a winding path of her own making as they approach the circle, but she stops with some ten feet to go. Leaning against his shoulder, she murmurs words in a language Kaidan doesn’t understand, then straightens and tugs her shawl closer around her. Stepping away from him, she gestures towards the entrance. “This is your duty, not mine,” she tells him quietly. “This is why you have come.”

That startles Kaidan, and for a moment he forgets to breathe. The urn in his arms is suddenly an overbearing weight. “But… he’s your son!”

A warm smile curves across her lips and shines brightly from green eyes framed in red-gold fire shot with silver threads. Lifting a hand, she cradles his cheek, a gentle caress of warmth and comfort. “And you are his chosen, lad. My hold on him lasted only ‘til then.”

His chosen? His gaze flickers between her and the stone arch. From what little he can see beyond the opening, open grass and the stones that form the circle await him. Strangely, it doesn’t seem as bright in there as out here. “W-what do you…?”

“Is tú mo rogha…”

The whispered words reach his ears and Kaidan freezes as recognition comes with them.

“Did he never tell you?”

As his gaze drifts towards the open sea where a gull floats gently in the breeze above, he nods slowly. “He did once… at the end,” he chokes out, voice raw with emotion. “I… never knew what it meant.”

Brigit’s smile softens. Leaning towards him, she presses her lips to his forehead in a manner like his mother would do when he was young. She gestures towards the archway to the circle. “Help him find peace, Kaidan, and all the rest will become clear.” She backs up a step, then another while drawing her shawl more tightly around her shoulders to protect from the wind. When still he hesitates, she adds, “You will not come to harm, I promise, but you will find the answers you seek.”

Kaidan’s gaze drops to the urn in his hands. Answers… but to what questions? Still, he’d made a promise and he was a man of his word, even if it took him a while to make it happen. A snuffling woof to his left has him hesitating again. Brigit chuckles. “Loco and I will wait for you here.”

The hound tilts his head to one side as he moves to sit at her feet. It’s as much of an agreement as he can expect, so Kaidan takes one last deep breath before turning toward the archway.

[mandoalorian]

Fairytale with Pero Tovar

DAY THREE: Fairytale with Pero Tovar [Requested by @honeymandos]

Taglist (let me know if you want to be added!)

Permanent: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal

December Writing Challenge: @mandos-blaster @silent-and-resigned @valentinasubmarina

December Writing Challenge Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Warnings: mention of arranged marriage and brief allusions to sex. Might it be a warning that I was exhausted when I wrote this? Feels like that should be a warning.

Word count: 2k

Rating: PG

Pero Tovar was unlike any other man you had ever met. His eyes were a deep shade of brown, but hidden beneath the colour was enigma and mystery. When he returned from the crusade, your father, the King, praised him. To have appraisal from the king is every little boy’s dream— but Tovar stood there, scowling, unfazed. When your father knighted Tovar for his efforts, he didn't speak a single word. Whilst most fresh knights of the realm would typically offer a speech of gratitude; Tovar simply nodded and sauntered off. You didn't see him again until that evening.

Tovar was on his third cup of ale, sitting alone at the bar. The palace’s main hall was lit up with an abundance of candles, golden flames illuminating the spacious room. There must have been hundreds of people sharing his company. The laughter, the dancing, the music… Tovar despised it all. That was until you slid into the empty stool next to him.

You had been watching him all day, intrigued by his misery and his demeanor. He didn't speak to anyone; even when spoken too, he merely offered them just an utter of a few words. You wondered if he would speak to you, the princess and future queen of the kingdom. You waited for him to make the first move, in hope he'd initiate conversation, but he didn't even do as much to look at you.

"Lovely evening," you greeted the Knight. "Wouldn't you agree?" Tovar grunted and took another sip of ale. You noticed that he must've been heavy handed, because when he put the cup back on the bar, little bits of the amber liquid splashed out, dripping down his hand and pooling around the coaster. Like an animal, he licked the sticky ale from his skin. "Your bravery is very much appreciated by the kingdom," you sighed, placing your elbow on the bar and cupping your cheek. He finally turned to look at you. "Would you do me the honour of dancing with me?"

"I don't dance." Pero spat. Ah, your first words out of him. His voice was gruff, but not angry. He didn't look angry. You did struggle to weigh up his facial expressions. He didn't look happy to be at the Christmas ball, which confused you. He should be happy to be here.

"Not even with a princess?" you smiled, fluttering your eyelashes in the direction of the attractive mercenary.

"Especially not with a princess." He replied, gulping down another mouthful of ale. "You don't want to be seen with a man like me."

Pero felt shame. You were a princess, and by far the most beautiful woman he had ever laid his eyes on. But he was nothing but a peasant boy compared to you. That didn't change the fact he wanted to pick you up and pin you against the wall, kiss down your neck, and revoke every ounce of your purity. Those were just his thoughts. It was pointless to even consider acting upon them. Not with a princess.

"That's the thing…" you said, looking down at your knees and biting on your lower lip. "All my life I've been sheltered from men like you."

"And for good reason." Pero turned back to the bar and gestured for the barmaid to come over. He reached into his pocket and hurdled a handful of coins to pay for the next glass of ale he was ordering.

"Do you ever just want to run away?" you sighed, leaning close to Tovar. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. You regretted the words instantaneously, as soon as they left your lips. He was a mercenary— constantly on the run from town to town. It was a stupid question.

"You want to run away?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest and raising an eyebrow. Now you had peaked his curiosity.

"I do," you whispered, feeling your cheeks heat up at the thought of disobeying your father. "My whole life I've craved for something more than this. This is my last Christmas as a free maiden, for next Summer, my father plans to marry me off to Prince William of Ireland."

"And you don't want to marry a prince? You are royalty. You do not want to give that up." Pero huffed, looking irritated that you had made such a suggestion.

"You don't get it. Everyone thinks I have a perfect life," you shook your head. "But I long for something more than this. I want to see the world— journey the seas. Ride my horse without having an army follow. I want to fall in love, Pero. Don't you?"

Pero paused. "Why are you telling me this?" he asked, a gleam in his dark brown eyes.

You took a deep breath. "I wish for you to help me escape the palace."

And for the first time, Tovar laughed. You stared at him, blinking a few times in bewilderment. "Oh, you're serious? With all due respect, your worshipfulness, I will not disobey the king like that. He will have me hanged."

"The brave Pero Tovar who was just knighted by my father is… scared?" You raised an eyebrow.

"Not scared. It's just a foolish idea." Pero sighed, running his fingers through his short and messy hair.

"Very well then," You clasped your hands together and stood up, courtesying to the scowling man who sat before you. He grunted and took a swing of his ale. "A pleasure to meet you. Venture safe." You told him before pondering off.

Tovar was your first choice. There was something about his rugged yet handsome looks which you craved so bad. He was different to everyone else. Different to all the other men who graced the ballroom that night. The princes, sires and knights who had come from all across the land wore the best garments and tights; whereas Tovar doted a ripped tunic which looked like it was at least a few years old. The other knights would ride their horses into battle and surrender, but Tovar was a true warrior. You could tell from the scar across his eye, his pessimism; like he had seen too much. He made all other men look like imposters.

But you had to escape the walls of the castle, and if Tovar wasn't willing to help you, so be it. You scouted the room for another potential man who you could trust to carry you away from this life on his noble steed. Your dress trapesing around your ankles as you padded towards another man, of Roman descent, who had recently been knighted by your father. Unlike Tovar, his armour was pristine and a blinding silver. He wore a vibrant red tunic and gold boots, and even brought his Roman helmet to the Christmas ball.

"I like your helmet," you smiled, placing a hand on your hip as you reached up and felt the feathers sticking out the top. "What's your name, fine gentleman?"

"Julius." he replied, putting down his goblet of red wine and offering you a small bow. "I was not expected to share the company of her highness tonight, I must admit."

"Julius, as the future queen of the kingdom I have a request for you, but you must listen carefully." You told the Roman, avoiding his precious attempt of a flirtation. Before you could reply, you felt a large hand grab the curve of your shoulder.

Spinning around on your heel, you were greeted by Tovar. He had been watching you from his seat at the bar, scowling miserably when he saw you were speaking to another man. Tovar was wise enough to know you shouldn't trust any of the men in the ballroom tonight. When he bolted over to you, he had hoped you hadn't already revealed your plot to abandon your position as princess of the kingdom.

"Ah, Pero, this is Julius." You smiled politely, introducing the two knights to one another. You were a little taken aback, not expecting Pero to even look twice in your direction, nevermind come over and see you. "Pero, I was just speaking to Julius about an urgent matter. Now if you excuse me-"

Tovar's grip on you tightened and you felt a rush of heat flood your body under his touch. He looked up at Julius. "M’lady offered me a dance," Tovar explained before looking back down at you. "And I'd like to take you up on that request."

You gulped, unsure where he was going with this. You supposed you could spare a few moments to dance with the handsome knight.

"And as you heard, Pero, her royal majesty has an urgent matter to discuss with me." Snarled Julius, earning a death glare from Pero.

"That's okay Julius, I wish to dance with Knight Tovar." You told the Roman Knight. Tovar smirked and took your hand, interlocking his rough and calloused fingers with yours. He dragged you to the centre of the dance floor, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you in close.

"I don't dance." he started as you briskly began to guide him, swaying your hips to the bard’s music.

"Tovar, why did you interrupt my conversation with Julius?" you questioned him with genuine confusion. Tovar sighed, looking around to make sure no one was paying any attention.

"I will help you escape the palace," he leaned into you and whispered into your ear. You smiled eagerly at him and he felt his heart soften when you saw the way your eyes sparkled with excitement. "When do you want to do this? When is the best time for you?"

You dropped a hand to his chest and bit your lip, leaning in close. "Now would be perfect." you hummed and he knotted his eyebrows together.

"Now?" he quizzed, feeling a little weary.

"Everyone is distracted with the Christmas ball. If we slipped out now, I don't think anyone will notice we've gone."

Pero contemplated your words but he agreed that you poised a valid point. He sighed and looked around once more. "My horse is outside. Grab a cloak from your quarters and hurry. I will meet you by the back entrance of the palace gardens in five minutes."

You nodded your head and let go of Tovar. You looked at him and smiled, pressing a kiss into his cheek. His dark stubble grazed your lips and when you pulled away, you spotted a fluster of redness blush his cheeks. "Thank you." you whispered, before sneaking out of the ballroom.

Tovar waited about two minutes, to avoid suspicion, and headed to the bar to finish his cup of ale. He did not expect to spend his Christmas Eve helping a princess escape the confines of her own kingdom. He took a moment to process what exactly was happening and tried to form a plan. Where was he going to take you? He was a mercenary, constantly on the run. No matter how much he wanted, you couldn't stay with him. You'd be in danger. What about when he had to flee into battle and slay dragons? Where would you stay? He figured it was a conversation to have with you when you had successfully escaped the kingdom.

Tovar wanted you to stick by his side because you were, simply put, the most beautiful girl he had ever seen before. Sparkling eyes and the most beautiful smile. When you were on the ballroom floor speaking to Julius, he couldn't help but admire your body and the way your dress hung off your shoulders. He was obsessed with the ribbon that laced up your front, thinking of how easy it would be to just pull it out and undress you.

Your flirtations hadn't gone unnoticed by Tovar. He could see straight through you. But, you were a princess. It would be beyond foolish to assume he could forward the same advances to you. That didn't change the fact he wanted to pin you against a wall and bite down on your skin until you were screaming his name.

With caution, Pero slipped out of the ballroom, certain he was unseen and quietly jogged outside to his horse. The thick white December snow crunched under his boots as he comforted his shivering steed. "It's okay sweetheart," he whispered, running his fingers through his horse's hair. "I know, I know it's cold. But we'll get outta here very soon." he promised his companions before hopping up and straddling the animal.

He heard you padding towards him, your breath shaky in the cold air. He turned to face you, completely mesmerised at the way the little snowflakes balanced in your hair. You really were an angel. He grabbed your hand and helped you onto his horse. "Put your hood up," he ordered you, to which you obliged. "and wrap your arms around my waist. It's going to be a long ride." Tovar warned.

You shuffled closer to him and wrapped your body around his, already liking the familiar warmth he radiated. "You are the bravest man I have ever met." you admitted, your fingers curling in the hairs on the back of his head.

"Nonsense." he cursed you.

"I mean it." you smiled. "Thank you, my brave knight. When we stop for the night, I wish to show you my gratitude through a kiss."

Pero felt his muscles tense up at the prospect. Now he had to get you out of the kingdom alive. "There will be no mistletoe where we stay, your highness," he frowned, preparing the horse for the journey.

"I don't need mistletoe to kiss you, Tovar," you giggled.

"No?" he asked.

"No," you confirmed. "I have love on my side."

[earsense]

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[angelhearttreasures]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Handmade Silver Plated Celtic Knot Chains & Howlite Dagger Bead Dangle Earrings.

[off-in-the-moors]

Water Horses: more than just kelpies

Water horses as a mythological creatures appear in Celtic and Scandinavian folklore. They're shape-shifting water spirits, who lure and drag their unsuspecting victims to their demise. However, there are many types of water horses, differing from each other not only by places of origin but in behaviour. What they all have in common is: inhabiting bodies of water and taking the form of a horse. I'll try my best to present the best known and least known ones, in simple to understand fashion. In advance, I want to apologies for any mistakes made. I'm only one person doing this partly as a story research and partly as my love/fascination for those creatures. I advise taking this post as a starting point and encourage to look into the folklore yourselves. Also, I apologies for any grammatical mistakes, English is my second language.

Kelpie

Location: Scotland Other names: x Body of water: streams and rivers

the best known of all water horse

appears as a powerful and beautiful black, dark grey or white horse, with reversed hooves and, in some sources, equipped with a bridle and sometimes a saddle

if the kelpie was already wearing a bridle, "exorcism" might be achieved by removing it, which would be endowed with magical properties, like healing, and if brandished towards someone, was able to transform that person into a horse or pony

can shape-shift into a human figures, with water weeds in hair, such as old wizened man; rough, shaggy man; handsome young man wearing a silver necklace, which was its bridle; or a tall woman dressed in green

in the form of handsome young man, said to seeks "human companionship" and will woo a pretty young girl which is determined to take for its wife

if mounted, its skin becomes adhesive, in stories where a hand or a finger got stuck to the creature, the only way to break free was to cut it off

most stories say they only drown their victims, but some say they tear them apart and devour them, leave the entrails to washout to the water's edge

could entice victims onto its back by singing

some sources say, it can have a offspring with a horse, which would be impossible to drown and had ears shorter then normal

could be k*lled with a silver bullet or heated iron, and after dying, it’ll turn into turf and soft mass, like jellyfish

could be tamed with well placed halter, some sources say in should have sign of a cross on it

the noise a kelpie's tail makes when it entered water sounds like thunder

its howls and wails, as a warning of approaching storms

Each-uisge

Location: Scotland, Ireland, Isle of Man Other names: each-uisce/aughisky/ech-ushkya (Irish), cabyll-ushtey (Manx) Body of water: sea, sea lochs and fresh water lochs

the name means "water horse", literally

has been described as "perhaps the fiercest and most dangerous of all the water-horses", being unpredictable in nature

can shape-shift into fine horse, pony, a handsome man (water weeds, sand or mud in hair) or an enormous bird (such as a boobrie/great auk)

tears apart and devours the entire body of its victim, except for the liver, lungs or heart (depending on the source), and  some times pieces of clothing are also present

preys not only on humans but also cattle and sheep

could be lured out off the water by the smell of roasted meat

can be k*lled with red-hot iron and after being k*lled, leaves jelly-like substance

repelled by silver and fire

sometimes comes out of the water to gallop on land and, despite the danger, if caught and tamed then it will make the finest of steeds

most likely to come out in November

can be ride safety on interior land as long as they don't smell or gets a glimpse of water

because of their pr*datory hunger, they may even turn on their own kind, if the scent of a human rider is strong enough on the monster's body

Ceffyl Dŵr

Location: Wales Other names: x Body of water: mountain pools, waterfalls and seashore (few sources)

most stories say they're fresh water but some sources say there is a salt water version, differing mostly in colour

its characterisation depends on the region, in North Wales its represented as being rather formidable with fiery eyes and a dark forbidding presence, while in South Wales its seen more positively as, at worst a cheeky pest to travellers and at best, luminous, fascinating and sometimes a winged steed

appears as a pony or cob sized horse, dappled grey or sand colour, with hooves facing backwards; or large chestnut or piebald horse

though it appears solid, it can evaporate into mist or grown wings

some sources say, it could transform into frogs

can k*ll its victims by trampling them on the pathways they frequent; or by convincing someone to ride them, only to drown them; or fly them into the air only to turn to mist, dropping the unfortunate rider to his death

like with kelpies, they can be tamed by use of a well placed bridle, though it’s much harder, due to their ability to turn intangible

in some sources its connected with sea-storm: appearing with sea-foam white coat in storm seasons; dapple, grey or white, clumsily stomping about in the ocean waves prior to the storm (possibly brewing up the very storm its sighting precedes); and as large chestnut or piebald horse trotting along the coast after storm

Nykur

Location: Iceland Other names: x Body of water: lake, river, stream and sea

appears as a grey horse with backwards hooves and ears

could change itself into all forms, living or dead, e.g. lambswool or peeled barley

repelled by speaking its name or a synonyms of it (Nennir, Nóni, Vatnaskratti (“water demon”) or Kumbur)

appears on the lake-shore, with half its body in the water, and looks to be quite tame to its unsuspecting victims

if mounted, its skin becomes adhesive and its will ride into the water and drown its victim

its neighing is said to sound like ice cracking

could breed with a horse (giving birth like a normal mare, albeit in the water), its offspring were indistinguishable from those of a normal horse but had a tendency to lie down when splashed with water or when led through belly-deep water

Tangie

Location: Shetland Islands, Orkney Islands Other names: tongie Body of water: fresh and salt water

the name comes from 'tang', which comes from Old Norse "þang" meaning 'seaweed' (probably referring to seaweed of genus Fucus)

appears as a coarse-haired, apple-green pony or a black horse with seaweed or shells in its mane

in other forms, appears as an aged man or merman, also covered in seaweeds

known for terrorizing lonely travellers, especially young women on roads at night near the lochs, whom it will abduct and devour under the water

said to be able to cause derangement in humans and animals

best known for playing a major role in the Shetland legend of Black Eric, a sheep rustler

Nuggle

Location: Shetland Islands, Orkney Islands (few mentions) Other names: neugle, njogel, nuggie, noggle, nogle, nygel, shoepultie/shoopiltee Body of water: rivers, streams and lochs, beside watermills

nocturnal

always male, appearing as a attractive, generously fed and well-conditioned (Shetland) pony or horse, with wheel-like tail which it hides between its back-legs or arched over its back, and sleek coat from a deep bluish-grey through to a very light, almost white, grey

can take many forms, but never of a human

never strays very far from water

fairly gentle disposition, being more prone to playing pranks and making mischief rather than having malicious intents, like stopping the watermill's wheel

some stories state, only magical beings called Finns (Finfolk) were able to ride a nuggle without coming to any harm

Bäckahäst

Location: Scandinavian Other names: brook horse Body of water: rivers, lakes and ponds

appears as a majestic white (sometimes with spotted sides) horse

appears particularly during foggy weather

could be harnessed and made to plough, either because it was trying to trick a person or because the person had tricked the horse into it

Cabyll-Ushtey

Location: Isle of Man, Ireland Other names: glashtyn, cabbyl-ushtey, capall uisce (possibly Irish or Old Irish) Body of water: sea

there are very few tales about it

very similar to each-uisge, but not as dangerous

appears as a pale grey horse, but capable of change into a young man

mostly known for seizing cows and tear them to pieces, stampeding horses, and stealing children

If there are any mistakes or missing informations or questions, feel free to ask.

[kumeko]

Chapter 3! This is supposed to be a Sylvgrid BB, Mercedes, Annette, look at yourselves and be ashamed. Finally, though, Ingrid is heading over to Sylvain.

…

…

…

…

For the second time that week, Ingrid found herself standing in the parking lot to a pub, a dozen curious eyes on her. Unlike the first time, though, she couldn’t hide in the car and drive away. No, the redheads around her were Annette’s family and friends (and a few curious strangers that Ingrid remembered from her first day).

 “I’m sorry t’ ambush ya like this,” Annette said, glaring at her family. They reacted the same way you did to a kitten’s growl; ignoring it. “But they’re all very eager.”

 “O’ course we are!” A small, well-built woman stepped forward, and even before Annette said anything, Ingrid knew she was her mother. There was something unmistakable about her bright eyes and even brighter smile. She was also extremely short. “We heard so much about ya, Ingrid.”

 “Mum,” Annette gestured.

“Yer a real beauty,” a plump woman added as she stepped out, her hair dyed with several streaks of purple. “Gonna settle down here t’?”

 “Her aunt,” Mercedes supplied helpfully.

 “Can’t make any decisions without a drop of drink,” a tall man (uncle, Annette quickly supplied) added, already opening the door to the pub.

 “Whiskey, all around,” cried some cousin or the other.

 Ingrid didn’t even manage to get in a word before she was ushered in, a glass shoved into her hand.

 -x-

 Ingrid felt warm.

 “I feel warm,” she said loudly. Well, considering how loud the pub was, her voice was nothing. Really, she should be speaking louder, if anything. How was Annette supposed to hear her otherwise?

 “Warm?” Seated on the other side of the table, Annette looked over her half-drunk pint. As with the rest of the bar, even the glass had a classic feel to it: the dimpled mug, the oversized handle, the tampered bottom. The table looked like something out of a medieval dining hall.

 “None of this matches,” Ingrid mumbled, glancing around the large room. While the entrance to the pub had looked small and out of the way, nestled in the crook of two intersecting streets, the interior was surprisingly big. There was room to comfortably fit a hundred people.

 It definitely felt like it. Around them, dozens of tables were packed to the brim, friends and family cramming seats together as they roared with laughter and chatted eagerly. At some point, they’d forgotten about her, leaving her alone with their food and drinks. The greasy scent of fish and chips mixed with the heady scent of booze, and Ingrid wrinkled her nose. “Why is it always that?”

 Annette pushed her glass to the side and shot her a wry look. “You are so drunk.”

 “I’m not,” she retorted, the words heavy on her tongue. If anything, she was probably a little tired; her legs tingled pleasantly, her head felt like it was underwater, and maybe she was coming down with something. “It’s jetlag.”

 “Jetlag ended yesterday.” Annette groaned, reaching over to grab Ingrid’s empty glass. She stared at the single golden drop sliding down the side, the only proof that there had been anything inside at all. “That’s it, no more tonight. I forgot how lightweight you are.”

 “I am perfectly fine,” Ingrid grumbled, crossing her arms. “It wasn’t that much.”

 “If you don’t count that whiskey you had, it wasn’t.” Annette snorted, shaking her head disapprovingly. “I can’t believe you o’ all people are drunk.”

 “I’m not drunk,” Ingrid repeated, rolling her eyes. That was a mistake; it took too long for the world to right itself up after. Maybe she was a little buzzed. Just a little. “I’m fine.”

 “Uh-huh.” Annette sighed, getting up. Her blue dress swished around her knees as she slipped out of the table. “Look, I’ll find Mercedes and we can go home then. I think our welcome party lasted long enough now.”

 Ingrid’s brow knit and she protested, “You don’t have to stop for me. I’m fine.”

 Picking up the glasses, Annette chuckled. “I like sleepin’ early, sure.”

 As she walked away, Ingrid leaned back to watch her go. And then leaned even further back, since there was nothing to stop her. Grabbing the table edge, she just barely managed to keep her balance.

 Okay, maybe she was drunk. Ingrid had never thought of herself as a heavy drinker, but everyone gave her a glass the second they’d pulled her in for a conversation.  

 She had never been able to turn down free food. It was impossible.

 Rapping her fingers in a steady beat, she glanced around. Mercedes was in a corner, talking to a short, silver-haired man, freckles dotting his sun-kissed skin. Annette was caught up at the bar, chatting with a hulking beast of man and their tomboyish waiter. They looked happy. Why cut this short for them? Ingrid was more than capable of walking to their place—she was just drunk, not knocked out. And who knew, the fresh air could sober her up. It wasn’t even a long walk, really. Ireland was tiny.

 The more she thought about it, the better the idea was. Peeking at them both one last time, Ingrid quickly slipped out of the table and shambled over to the entrance. Luckily, she wasn’t the only drunk customer stumbling out the door and no one took notice.

 Pulling out her phone, her fat fingers tapped out her destination. It took her three tries, but soon google had a blue line ready for her, marking out the way to Annette’s modest home. The parking lot was still filled with cars, despite the fact that it was twelve am, and Ingrid wasn’t sure what to make of that. It wasn’t even Friday or the weekend. Even the grandparents were still here. Maybe the town was full of party animals.

 Or maybe Mercedes was right, and she really did need to get out more. No one else looked like they were leaving yet, despite the state they were in. A group of college students sat on the hoods of their cars, crooning to the moon between fits of laughter. Passed out, a man lay on his trunk. And nearby, almost hidden in the trees, a couple were—

 Ingrid flushed, looking away. Luckily, that wasn’t the way home. No, her way was down the winding streets uphill, toward the border between the countryside and the town. People nodded at her as she passed. No doubt everyone already knew who she was and she waved back awkwardly. It was a warm summer night, a cool breeze from the nearby ocean bringing modicum of relief, and she pushed back her bangs as she slowly trekked onward.

 At least she was right—the night air had sobered her up. A pleasant tingle remained on her lips, running down her spine, in her thighs, but the rest of her was starting to feel more normal after this walk. Ingrid had never considered herself particularly graceful, but now at least she wasn’t clumsy.

 Unfortunately, feeling normal also brought back her appetite, and Ingrid flushed as her stomach gurgled. “Why are you hungry?” she admonished, grateful no one had been around to hear that. She’d only eaten an hour ago. “They fed me enough to last two days.”

 Uncaring, her stomach complained once more. Well, she was almost home. The once overcrowded neighbourhood started to thin out, the houses spacing out as she hit the edge of town. If she remembered correctly, she had to take the next intersection.

 Ingrid glanced at her phone. A black screen greeted her and she clicked her teeth. Locked. Impatiently, she pressed a button and waited for its familiar light to wash over her.

 The screen remained stubbornly black.

 A feeling of disbelief washed over her and she pressed the button again. No response. Her phone had died. “Of all the--,” Ingrid swore, stuffing the useless thing back into her pocket. “Whatever, I don’t need it.”

 She’d never gotten lost before, and she wasn’t about to start now. The route back would come to her as she walked. It was definitely a right at the next intersection. At night, the rolling fields were almost impossible to recognize, but she vaguely recalled the mailbox just ahead.

 Now she was in the country proper, the moon shining brightly as it lit her way. Oddly enough, there were no cars on the road tonight, leaving just her and chirping crickets. She had always been a country girl at heart, and she’d walked through empty fields enough as a child that this felt more comfortable than scary.

 An owl hooted and Ingrid paused, brushing her hair behind her ear as she tried to find it. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but at some point the flat fields had changed into a forest-covered hill. Ingrid squinted. Maybe it was the booze, but she saw lights at the top of the hill.

 A party? A lost hiker? Ingrid glanced up and down the road once more, but there still wasn’t so much as a car in sight. Well, whatever it was, it wouldn’t hurt for her to check it out. She was more than capable of defending herself, if it came to that.

 The moonlight barely made it through the leafy canopy, a few stray moonbeams here and there all she had to guide her as she picked her way through the woods. There wasn’t a proper path. Ingrid groped around her blindly, relying on tree trunks to steady her as she carefully stepped over roots and odd dips in the ground.

 Maybe I should get a flashlight, she thought, taking a deep breath as she leaned against a tree. There were nearby houses. One of them was bound to help.

 As though hearing her thoughts, dozens of fireflies drifted out of the bushes and trees, their glow more than enough to light up the ground. They almost seemed to line up, a soft, yellow path that extended all the way to the faint glow.

 “Weird,” she murmured. Annette would definitely know weird firefly behaviour like this and she pocketed away the question for later. For now, it was more than enough to see, and Ingrid kept climbing.

 As she got closer, the glow grew brighter and brighter. The delicate thrills of flutes were matched by the heady tone of the fiddle and other wind and stringed instruments joined in. Over it all, the sound of laughter and Ingrid had been right. It was a party.

 She glanced behind her. The fireflies were gone now, like wisps in the wind. Well, if there was a party, there was an easier way down than this. Ingrid pushed past the last of the trees and entered a broad field. Above her, the stars twinkled, but their glow was far outmatched by the many lanterns strung across the open space, even more lights wrapped around the stone wall that ringed the area. Dozens of strangers danced and laughed in the center, while even more people ringed the field, chatting and eating.

 On the far end, mouth-watering scents drifted off a table laden with food.

 She should go.

 Her stomach grumbled.

 She should go.

 Ingrid closed her eyes and swallowed. Somehow, that only made the smell even more delicious: roasted chicken, buttered potatoes, baked fish—

 “Well, it wouldn’t hurt anyone if I looked,” she muttered, mostly to convince herself.

 It was a big party. It wasn’t like anyone would miss a plateful or two.

[greekowl87]

Fic: It Must Be a Christmas X-File!

A/N: Post-ep ‘How the Ghosts Stole Christmas’ with mentions of ‘Christmas Carol and ‘Emily.’ I don’t think this is a stand out awesome fic or my best work, but I wanted to get something done for Christmas. I hope you all enjoy it. This isn’t how I imagined it turning out but with no real direction and written with less than 24 hours with holiday activities, I’m happy with it. Still, I hope you like it. Fluff. Implied smut but I just didn’t have time to get into it. P.S. No beta so apologies for crappy dialogue and typos :( I hope it doesn’t suck too badly.

Tagging @today-in-fic @suitablyaggrieved @improlificinsarcasm @baronessblixen

.....

Scully parked her car and turned off the ignition as Mulder leaned forward to glance out the windshield. The snow earlier had bee light and fleeting. Now, the snow came down in big flakes like cotton balls sticking to everything. She chuckled lightly and remarked, “So much for a white Christmas. I bet the weathermen were surprised.”

“They were calling for rain, it was thundering last night, it was just a flurry, clear today, and now a full-on blizzard,” he commented dryly. “Remember the blizzard of 95?”

“Don’t remind me and you’re not driving home in this weather either, Mulder.”

“Aw, Scully, I’ve already caused up enough time and ruined probably enough Christmases for you. Bill didn’t seem to happy to see my face this year. Your mother tolerated me at best. Tara was Switzerland. Your nephew was cute though.” He smiled. “But I have already overstayed my welcome.”

“Mulder,” Scully said, “I was glad to have you there with me. I told you this before, I wouldn’t want it any other days. Come on. You can crash on the couch tonight.”

“Scully,” he countered.

“I’m not giving you a choice. Apparently, we shot each other, I don’t want to shoot you again for not listening to my wisdom. Besides, I really don’t mind. It’s Christmas after all, Mulder.”

He glanced at back out the windshield as the snowfall conjured up harsh New England winters he had experienced as a child. “Okay.” Mulder bit his lip and smiled. “Let me go grab my overnight bag. I’ll meet you at your door.”

“I’ll see you upstairs.”

The snow crunched under their shoes as Scully made her way cautiously up the unshoveled walkway to her apartment, warily watching for ice. She unlocked the main door and rode the elevator upwards to her third-floor apartment. She unlocked the apartment door, turned on the foyer light, and dropped her keys onto the table next to the door. In the corner by her desk, a small Christmas tree sat lightly decorated. “At least the timer came on,” she murmured to herself.

Ever since her father’s passing on Christmas a few years earlier, she tended not to decorate as much for Christmas. The tree was enough, maybe a wreath if she felt like putting in extra effort, but for the most part, she had just kept up a tree. Even then the decorations seemed less and less each year. Scully kicked off her boots by the door and instantly lost three inches. She heard Mulder’s familiar footsteps. She opened the door slightly and he pushed it open.

“It’s really coming down out there, Scully. If it keeps up like this, we might have at least six inches by tomorrow morning.”

“See, it is a good thing you’re spending the night.”

He carried his overnight bag over his shoulder and smirked. 

“What?”

“I always forget how…”

“Short?”

“For lack of a better word?”

She was smiling at him and Mulder shivered. She locked the door behind him and nodded to the couch. “Go make yourself comfortable. It’s only seven. There’s still five hours of Christmas left,” she told him. “Maybe there’s something on television.”

“A Christmas Story? A Christmas Carol? The Grinch Who Stole Christmas?” 

“Go find something, G-man. I’m going to the kitchen to get us something special. Are you hungry at all?”

“I’m good.” Mulder dropped his overnight by the couch and spied the Christmas tree in the corner. “Looks like you decorated less this year, Scully.”

“I don’t see a reason too, ever since dad died. But I’ve always loved Christmas. Ahab would take down the tree first thing day after Christmas.” He could hear the sadness in her voice. “I rebelled in my own little way and kept it up until January 10th give or take.”

“It looks nice,” he commented. “I like it.”

“Thank you,” she called. “I got this bottle that a friend from Quantico brought back from Dublin, Ireland.”

“A bottle of what?”

“Genuine Irish whiskey,” she called in a sing-song voice. “Since you’re not driving anywhere and it’s Christmas, come have a drink with me.”

“Agent Scully,” he crooned. 

“Shut up, Mulder.”

He cast a secretive glance as Scully busied herself in the kitchen and made a quick dash to her small tree. He quickly dug out a small wrapped box that he had hidden weeks before so it would be in view when she would sit. He rushed back to her couch before she could carry the whiskey glasses over to them. “Snow is really coming down out there,” he remarked casually.

“You already said that. I could start a fire. It does get a little drafty in here.”

“I’m fine, Scully. You still have that space heater right?”

“I brought it to the basement after Thanksgiving. Remember when the heat broke?”

“Right. Well, I can show off my Indian Guide skills and do the fire for you.”

“Go right ahead, Master of the Flame.”

Mulder watched her kick off her boots and tuck her legs under her. She rested her arm on the back of the couch and sipped the whiskey amused. He could swear she was flirting with him.   He took a drink of liquid courage himself and started to build a little fire that he could feed the bigger logs into. “Thank you again, Scully, for today.”

“What part of it?”

“All of it. Coming to the haunted house, letting me spend Christmas with you and your family… thanks by the way for defending my maiden honor against Bill…” She laughed. “And now. I really, really mean it. It has been so long since I’ve had a...regular...no...nice, easy Christmas that I have actually enjoyed.”

“And you’re here now, safe from the cold. Baby, it’s cold outside,” she teased. “Come back here, Mulder. The fire started. Come enjoy your drink.”

He dusted his hands and jeans off before going back to the couch where Scully watched him with a little carefree smile he hadn’t seen in ages. He picked up his glass and sat across from her on the couch. “No place I’d rather be.”

“I wanted to thank you,” she said after a moment of contemplation.

“Why?”

“Why did you invite me out there last night? To a haunted house of Christmas Eve?”

“To investigate…”

“Mulder, you know better than to lie to me.”

“I wanted you there with me. I didn’t want...after last year...I didn’t want you to have to go through it alone.”

“So you used a guise for a fake x-file to get me out there?”

“I know you would come if I asked for your help,” he answered. “I wasn’t sure otherwise.”

Mulder swished the amber liquid in the glass and took a sip. Scully, touched by his gesture, took his hand and squeezed it. “Thank you.”

He relaxed and nodded. “Hey, I think Santa left you something under the tree. He must’ve visited you last night when you were over at my place.”

She narrowed his eyes suspiciously at him and turned to look at her tree. A small box with red wrapping paper and a gold bow. “What the hell?” She set her drink on the coffee table and got up to inspect it. “Mulder…” she said. “I thought we agreed not to exchange gifts.”

“We did and I now have an awesome book to read thanks to you. What does it say?”

She shook her head, a grin forming ear to ear as she brought it back to the couch to open. “To the world’s best G-woman, who continues to save my ass; Love, Mulder.” She sighed and shook her head. “You really shouldn’t have. I have nothing for you.”

“You do, every day.”

Scully took his hand and held it tightly. The air changed between them and she whispered, “Thank you, Mulder.”

“Now, open your present. I picked it out especially for. You myself.” She smiled and carefully picked at the taped edges to open it. Mulder smiled; she took as much time and precision as she did performing one of her autopsies. “Scully, just rip it open.”

“I don’t want to ruin anything.”

“You won’t, it’s in a box!”

Scully ripped the last bit open and she inspected the small silver box. “Mulder?”

“Just open it.”

She opened the box and gasped. “Mulder. Jesus, you really shouldn’t have.”

“I wanted to.” She inspected the two small earrings he had gotten him. Two pearls were surrounded in a thin layer of gold in the shape of a four-leaf clover. “I know you already own a pair of pearl earrings,” he started, “but I wanted to do something a little special.”

“Mulder, they’re lovely.”

“Really?”

“I mean that sincerely. You honestly didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.”

She closed the box and set it aside. The air changed between them again. “I’m glad you’re here, Mulder,” she whispered. She took his hand again. “Honestly.”

Mulder, feeling emboldened, leaned forward and kissed her softly on the lips. “Sorry for the lack of mistletoe.”

“I’m not complaining.” She gave a small smile. “Except…”

“Except what?”

“I don’t know how I should take that kiss.”

“What do you mean?”

Scully tucked her legs back under her again and she sipped the whiskey contemplatively. “Well, we’re friends...partners?”

“Obviously.”

She licked her lips contemplating her next words. The past few months tumulated through her head: Diana, Antarctica, and  when he said, “You’re my one in five billion.” Those ghosts had assumed that they would be perfect for a murder-suicide because they appeared to be the perfect couple. What were they? His actions were confusing; the new pearl earrings had just given her added to her confusion even more.

“So, where does that leave us?”

“What do you mean?”

“Mulder, you drag me out to a haunted house on Christmas eve, you tell me you don’t want me to go through the holiday alone, and the earrings.”

He narrowed his eyes quizzically. “If you are going to continue to speak riddles and play twenty questions with me, Scully, I might need to get some whiskey.”

“I left it on the counter.” Mulder got up to get the bottle and Scully took the moment to examine the earrings he had just given her. Her heart warmed at the thought and the possibility it could mean more. “I really like the earrings,” she called.

“I’m glad,” he smiled.

She eyed the hefty amount of alcohol he had poured into his glass. “So back to my original question, Mulder. Where does that leave us?”

He watched her momentarily and bent forward to kiss her again more slowly this time. She savored the moment tasting the drops of whiskey on his tongue as he deepened the kiss. He broke away and smiled mischievously. “Does that answer your question?”

“It’s a start.”

“I like flirty Scully,” he remarked.

“I’m not flirty.”

Her cheeks glowed in firelight, either from embarrassment or the alcohol. “It’s both,” he said, seemingly reading his mind. “And yes you are. Whiskey.” He filled up her glass again. “A fire.” He nodded to her fireplace. “And snow.”

“And only one bed,” she finished laughing.

“I can take the couch.”

“Mulder,” she sighed lovingly. “What are we though? Really?”

“Anything you want,” he told her.

Scully tucked her arm behind her neck and rested her head on it. “Six years and you don’t want to go straight to that bed of years and make amazing love?”

“In time,” she said, holding up a hand. “You’re not going anywhere soon with this weather. It’s just...I’ve always wondered, Mulder and after so many years…”

“What?”

“It’s nice to be…”

“Desired? Wanted? Loved?”

“For lack of a better word,” she said. She took a long sip from her drink to hide her flushed cheeks. “I just...I’ve wanted the same thing too, Mulder. The hallway?”

His eyebrows rose, almost surprised. “It’s never too late.”

“I know,” she laughed. She watched him quietly and Mulder recognized the gaze. “So, Christmas miracles?”

“It’s a Christmas miracle,” he laughed. “Can I?”

“What?”

He kissed her again. This time, they abandoned both of their glasses in favor of indulging in the kiss. “Lucky number three,” Mulder whispered. He kissed her again. “You’re not helping if you want to relax.”

“Mulder, now you are just beginning to sound ridiculous.”

Mulder laughed, reaching for both of their glasses. “Merry Christmas, Scully.”

She took it and clinked it against his. “To a Christmas miracle.”

“A Christmas miracle.”

The glasses rang throughout Scully’s Georgetown apartment and they both downed it in one gulp. “Well,” he began, setting both glasses aside, “this honestly feels worse than high school.”

“So how do we…” They both laughed at the awkwardness of the situation. The alcohol only added to it. “Well, as a medical doctor, when a man and a woman…”

“Scully, shut up.”

“What?”

“Let’s finish this conversation elsewhere.”

“Did anyone tell you that you are horrible at innuendo?”

“Only you but I still win your heart right?”

“Always, Mulder.”

He discarded their glasses and offered his hand.

“How many near-deaths do we need?”

“Must need Good to smack us in the head. Come on, Scully.”

“It must be a Christmas X-File,” she mumbled to herself. “Let’s stay here, Mulder.”

“Your couch?”

“Seems fitting,” she whispered. She initiated another kiss. She pulled him closer. “Christmas miracle, Mulder.”

“Christmas miracle, Scully.”

He smiled, lounged back, and Scully opened her last present for that Christmas.

-End.

[beerecordings]

Do you mind explaining a little more of seven seven Henrik’s backstory? I checked the tag, but tumblr only gave me two posts for it -River

yeah, i’d love to! i haven’t talked about him much, this au comes mostly off the top of my head and then occasionally yanks me down into more complex scenarios, which i enjoy a lot.

okay this is long and honestly it’s a horror story so i’m going to put it under a read more. careful it is creepy and there’s a lot of talk of blood and stalking. seriously it’s a little messed up i used to be scared as hell of the Pooka when i was a kid lol. the short story, if you don’t want to read, is that a creature called a Pooka chased him out of Germany and nearly made him a prisoner, but Jackie and Marvin saved him!

but anyway yeah so Henrik is the seventh son of a seventh son, like I’ve mentioned, which pretty much means he A) is bizarrely lucky, impossibly lucky, B) can sense some magical activity and tell when things are supernatural even if they’re disguised to other humans, either seeing their real nature or just being able to tell that the thing in front of him is, on some level, not quite human, and C) a lot of people or creatures who are clued in to the mythological world might want to hurt him :( there are a lot of myths (Henrik doesn’t know how true they are) about how his hair or skin or blood could be used for really powerful spells or luck talismans or how even just keeping him around could increase luck or magical energy. to be fair, this does seem to be true in the households he’s lived in, as his family was really lucky with a lot of stuff when he was with his wife and kids, and recently his friends have been really lucky. he doesn’t consider this real luck at all, though - he’s constantly paranoid that something will come to kill him for a ritual or hurt him to get something out of him or just lock him away as a lucky charm for the rest of his life.

and he has good reason to be paranoid after what happened! A couple years ago, he caught the eye of a Pooka, a nightmare shape-shifter hardly more intelligent than an animal and generally not classified at the level of a human the way a Selkie or higher spirit or satyr or something like that would be. (okay there are some legends that make Pooka clever tricksters who come after bad people and others that say they’re even friendly but in the stories i was always told, Pooka were monsters and you did NOT want to be targeted by one, because they never let their victims go and enjoyed tormenting innocent humans for reasons never explained to me). Henrik still doesn’t know exactly what it wanted with him, because it never spoke. It’s just one night he woke up at the witching hour and sat up in bed beside his wife and outside his window there was a donkey.

but it was horrible, it wasn’t… it wasn’t normal. The Pooka takes a lot of different forms. usually a huge black dog, or a huge black bull, or a huge black hare, or a huge black-haired man, or the donkey. And the donkey, to Henrik, was the worst of them. It would be the body and head of a donkey, but it would stay on its hind legs like a man and wear a coat, and there would be something in his eyes far too clever for a donkey - an ability to watch, an ability to be interested in him, an ability to want to hurt him. That first night he thought it was a sleep paralysis demon. He held stock-still and stared at the blank yellow eyes with the rectangle pupils on either side of its head and wondered why it seemed to stare directly at him, as though hungry. It reached up a hand - grey and covered in fur, but the hands of a man - and pushed open his bedroom window.

His wife woke up and asked him why he was shaking so hard and when he whirled around to look at her, the Pooka disappeared again. He had to stay home from work the next day he was so afraid, and even though he and his wife had been having a lot of problems lately, she pulled him right into her arms and stroked his hair and let him cry because he was just so terrified. she’d never seen him that scared. his vision was telling him that thing was real even though he’d never heard of anything like it and wanted it to be a nightmare.

and the thing was, he was the only one who seemed to be able to see it.

He kept trying to go to work as usual, providing for his kids and looking after his family, but the Pooka began to get closer and closer. he would get on the subway and look up and the Pooka would be a dog sitting across from him, staring at him with donkey’s eyes, bigger than he was, big enough that its head touched the top of the subway and pressed its ears down. or he would be in the middle of an intensive surgery, and suddenly the window would open, and this hare the size of the operating table, with the yellow eyes of the donkey and all its horrible ribs jutting out, would crawl into the room and stare at him while he worked, sweating and trembling so hard he could barely perform, though he sometimes didn’t have a choice depending on how serious the surgery was and how far he was into it, the hare staring at him the whole time and just breathing. or the huge black-haired man, donkey-eyed and twice his size, stepping into his home while his wife and kids were all asleep, stepping over to him, its boots thudding across his dining floor, leaving blood in their wake, its yellow eyes fixed on him as he shook, shattering a coffee mug, trying to make his voice work, to say something like “what are you? what do you want with me?” but it never answered, it never spoke, just stepped closer and closer, fixed on him, staring at him, and then, for the first time, it reached out with its sausage-sized fingers, and it touched his fucking throat, and he felt blood come spilling out of his mouth for reasons he still doesn’t understand, and it swiped up the blood with its thumb and began to drink.

it turned to go after a drop of it, but it wasn’t satisfied.

Henrik, understandably, just about lost his mind with fear after that. he had seen the bull standing over his wife and kids enough times by then that he knew none of them were safe, and besides, no one believed him. his wife thought he was having a nervous breakdown or developing a psychotic illness or something because even though she knew about what he was, the story was just too ridiculous, too insane, and whoever heard of a donkey like that anyway? so he ran away. didn’t even think about it or mean for it, really, didn’t have time to leave them notes, to tell them that he loved them, just… ran and hoped the Pooka would leave them all alone. but it just kept following him. and now he was all along, and it started to get bolder.

it sat beside him on trains destined for countries he picked at random. it swam across the channel with him when he ran to Ireland. in his hotel room, it stood over him, and when he ran to sleep on the streets instead, terrified and exhausted, still it followed him, the donkey towering over him, the yellow eyes fixed on him, and it started to eat his blood whenever it wanted to, touching his throat and making it come welling up and drizzling from his mouth again while he was paralyzed by the strange power come over him, frozen still by the Pooka except for tears running down his face. he tried to run away again, but now, he found, it was no longer just watching, it would grab him and force him to stay in the hotel room, or snatch him off the streets while he searched for any help and drag him to the forest to drain him, and then it began pulling him deeper and deeper into the forest every time and letting him wander for less and less time, and then one day it brought him a big cup of milk in its horrible donkey hands, and he realized, in a moment that nearly killed him, that it was going to make him a prisoner for the rest of his life. but he didn’t know what to do. he’d been hunted for months. he was exhausted and terrified and exhausted of being terrified. there was no way to get free of it. in his dreams every night the Pooka made him see himself sat on the back of the great black bull, clinging on for dear life, blood running from his mouth, unable to throw himself off. it felt like a dream. in retrospect, it’s like it didn’t even happen to him, just like he watched it happen to someone else. it was extremely traumatic for him and he knew he was going to die and gave up on finding help.

until, of course, a little star spirit who loves to explore happened upon him. Marvin had never met a Pooka before and he was very curious when he noticed its spirit!! he went zipping off into the woods all excited and fascinated, but then he came upon the little man curled up beneath an outcropping in a worn doctor’s coat, shaking and passed out, anemic and freezing and very ill with the toll all this took on him. Marvin has rarely been so distressed in all his life. Henrik woke up to a very sweet white cat kissing at him and keeping him warm. he let Henrik hug him and pet him and mumble to him about dying and wanting to go and Germany and his family and blood from his mouth for a long time before he heard the Pooka come and decided this was too much for him to deal with alone. he zipped off to go get Jackie, but not before he saw exactly what the Pooka had been doing to the stranger. Jackie was horrified, of course, and finally here was someone who actually had an idea of what this creature Henrik had been ranting about to everyone he could think of actually was. In the end, it’s his luck that brought Henrik to Ireland, the homeland of the Pooka, where someone might know where it was and where a friendly star might wander onto him. they found Henrik silver spurs like in the stories Jackie had always been told as a kid and the next time he dreamed, Henrik could dig the silver spurs into the side of the Pooka and make it scream, a horrible shrieking noise like a half-dozen animals being slaughtered that has never left Henrik’s head since. The Pooka tried to come back and punish him a couple times, but Jackie and Marvin protected him and eventually it was killed with silver because, while Jackie rarely kills anything at all, it was clear that it wouldn’t stop coming for Henrik, perhaps having developed some kind of an addiction to him.

It took months for Henrik to believe it was really over. Jackie kept him in his home the whole time - apart from a brief sojourn to the hospital once or twice, since Henrik was seriously ill - and nursed him back to health with Marvin’s help. for the first couple weeks, Henrik was just silent, wrapped up in Jackie’s bedsheets staring at the wall, blue with blood loss and illness and a certain sort of grief that will never go away, letting Jackie and Marvin feed him and comfort him. eventually he started to get better, but he never left Jackie’s house. only place he really feels safe now. he has, however, set up a secret little clinic just a few blocks away, where mythological creatures in need of help can come to a doctor who has some understanding of what they are and real expertise, too. Between him, Jackie, and Marvin, they started picking up some pretty expansive knowledge about mythological creatures and he’s learned how to treat so many different things!! It keeps his life really interesting, especially now that he’s developing a national reputation among the other folk. and it’s how Chase and Jamie both came to be a part of their family!

What happened really haunts him, but luckily he has happened upon the best group of friends he could ever ask for and he has a great support system :) so that’s where he’s at!! that was very long but yeh!!!! i am filled with love of him!!

[thedeviltohisangel]

He’s A God, He’s A Man: 1

They thought they lost each other in the war.

masterlist in bio/warning for thoughts relating to death and suicide

He dared to let his thumb brush against the worn parchment of the monochromatic photograph. In his darkest moments he let himself think it was her cheek instead. Vividly imagined the slight flush from his touch. From the physical toll her work always took on her. The racing of her heart that pulled them closer and pushed them farther apart. 

It had been hell for everyone except them. They had found a way to make their own heaven by making sure nothing could get between them. No sinister dark tendril could twist in the spaces separating their lips. She did her best to heal him with her words and her touches. He did his best to keep the smile on her face even when it felt impossible to keep one spread across his own cheeks.

Tommy remembers the heat of her cheek in a haze but remembers the heat of the fire through a stark lens. There is no hiding from a heat like that. The kind that incinerates everything it comes in contact with. The kind of fire that razes the earth back to the beginning. It makes no qualms about deciphering who is innocent and who is not. Who truly deserves to be cleansed. Tommy wishes it was him. What he would have given to have been back in that cramped recovery room that afternoon. What he would have given to feel the heat of her cheek one last time.

His time in the trenches was bookended by his loss of love. Of peace and reconciliation being ripped from his hands. From the fire reminding him he had no control over its choices. He figured that if it wished to have his heart so bad then he would give it his soul too. Maybe that way it would be happy. Maybe that way it would leave him alone. Leave him be.

Lydia Margaret Wilson had dropped into his life and been plucked from it just as quickly. He who gives can also take. Tommy made sure those who crossed his path knew the lesson as well as he did. As painfully as he did. They all knew about Greta, the girl who’s bedside he had sat by for three months before she succumbed to her illness and he did the call of war. The call of forgetting her. The call of an eternal turmoil followed by the most eternal of peace. 

It was when a charge went off by accident that he met Lydia. His fellow soldiers pulled him from the clay and if he had been able to speak louder than the ringing in his ears, he would have told them to leave him be. That this was what he had came for. Now Tommy knew that he had been mistaken. He hadn’t gone to get over Greta, to meet her again in some faraway place. He had come for Lydia. To love as pure as one could. To know what it felt like to be happy. To be so close to having everything. He had come to ignite the anger within him that losing her had. That shot to the heart the field hospital going up in flames had burrowed deep inside him. It was this fire that sent him back to Birmingham with the will to be a King. To hold his head high and strong and sure under the heaviest of crowns.

It was a numbing pain. He thinks the inconsolable Sergeant was still on that field of charred linens and bandages in France searching for his American nurse. For the woman who wore a thin silver band around her neck. For the woman who had asked what was in Birmingham. Who had been content that Tommy was there. That he was all she needed. That everyone needed Tommy in a way that was suffocating and weighed heavily on him. She had needed him to be her light. To keep her laughing and smiling among the dirt.

He only ever needed her. He still did. But he had to settle for the memory of her. The picture that sat creased in the top drawer of his desk. Thomas Shelby swore he’d never feel as helpless as he did watching that building burn ever again.

“I’ll do better by you,” he whispered to the image of her. 

“Mr. Shelby, Danny’s here to see you.” With a deep sigh, Tommy tucked his guiding light back into the drawer.

----

Lydia watched with an utterly bored expression as the newest Investigator made himself look like a bumbling fool at the front of the conference room. She knew the case like the back of her hand. Had done much of the leg work to piece together the paper trail of deposits and withdrawals and purchases that led to their prime suspect. And now she was being subjected to watching the man ruin all her hard work. 

She had been a secretary for the New York City police since she had returned from the war. No hospital had wanted to hire her. They said she didn’t have the necessary schooling and training to be a nurse. 

“I  think the men whose lives I saved in the Somme would disagree with you,” she had bit back at the doctor who glared down his nose at her. Lydia tried to tell herself it was a blessing in disguise. That her years of amputating arms and fishing for bullets and needing whiskey to fall asleep could be behind her. The rejection could be a fresh start.

She wonders what kind of work she would have been able to find in Birmingham. She was going to be on that train with Tommy at the end of the war. But she supposes that neither of them were able to make it. She had watched in horror as the field hospital went up in flames. Had felt her heart shatter into a million pieces knowing Tommy Shelby was in there waiting for her. Of all the things he had survived, he went while recovering on the stiff hospital bed. She should have been there. Wrapped up around him and making plans for the future. Talking about all the members of his family she had to meet. How he was sure they would all love her.

One thing was for certain, her life would Tommy would not have resulted in her wanting to stab her eyes out at this table. She was supposed to be taking notes for the Commissioner but was too caught up in wanting to correct the man at the front of the room. Tommy had promised her that things were never dull with the Shelby family. That he would protect her from all the evils of men. That this war would be the last they ever faced. That her life would know nothing but peace and fulfillment. Foolishly, she had believed him.

“Miss Wilson?”

“Yes, sir?” Lydia quickly shoved the picture of her and Tommy back into the top drawer of her desk.

“There is a man from overseas here to see you.”

“Is he here to write a book?” There had been many men that approached Lydia saying they were writing a book about the experience of women in the war. She refused to even give them the time of day. A woman’s experience should be written by one. 

“Just simply said he had a proposal for you.” She considered taking her gun out to the front with her in case his proposal was one of marriage.

His back was to her, shrouded in a long black coat with a top hat on his head. “You come with quite the reputation, Miss Wilson.” She placed his accent as Northern Ireland, her confusion growing as to why he would come all this way just to meet her.

“And what is it that you have heard Mr…?”

“Inspector Campbell. Here at the behest of Mr. Churchill.” Lydia wanted to laugh. How absurd. Did he expect her to believe a word that had come out of his mouth. “I’d like to speak to you about a case I think you could help me with.”

“I’m no cop, Mr. Campbell, let alone one with jurisdiction wherever it is Mr. Churchill is looking to send you next.”

“Why don’t we take a seat? I’m sure I can ease your worries.”

“You can sit, I’ll stand.” Alarms were blaring in her mind. She was on guard. The flicker of a grimace on his face let her know that he was not used to anyone speaking against him. Particularly the voice of a woman.

“You served in France?”

“A nurse, yes.”

“I think you may have come across a suspect of mine during that time.” He slid a folder across the table to her. With a furrowed brow, Lydia opened it and scanned the front paper mindlessly before her breath caught in her throat at the picture next to it. Thomas fucking Shelby.

“Tomm-Thomas Shelby...Thomas Shelby died in a field hospital. I watched it catch fire.” She can’t remember the last time she had said his name out loud. She felt the heat of the fire on her face. Her fingers twitching for a glass of something strong to put it out. 

“Thomas Shelby is very much alive, Miss Wilson. And he’s very much caught the attention of powerful men. Mr. Shelby and his gang of rodents have stolen a shipment of guns. It is hard to predict the actions of scum like him and we don’t wish for communists or rebels to get these guns. Do you understand?” She didn’t. He wasn’t a rodent. He wasn’t scum. She was angry this man were refer to him as such. She was angry that Tommy was alive this entire time and she hadn’t known. That he hadn’t tried to find her.

“And what are you asking of me, Inspector Campbell?” She looked at her hand as she noticed he was watching it intently. Her fingers had been lightly tracing over the profile of the man she had once loved. Still loved. She snapped the folder closed and threw it back at him.

“I want you to help me negotiate with him.” It was somewhat true. If the rumors were true, Lydia was the best leverage he could get.

“I’ve thought Thomas Shelby was dead longer than I knew him. I have no ability to negotiate with him.”

“I have a feeling, Miss Wilson, that just seeing you will strike the right chord. Now, I will see you at the docks tomorrow. I’ve left the necessary travelling papers with the front desk.” He made a motion of bending as if to kiss her hand which she recoiled from instantly.

“Tomorrow.” She forced a close lipped smile in his direction and clutched her hand against her chest protectively. As Lydia watched the Inspector she wondered how long it would take him to realize the photo from his file was missing.

----

Tommy breathed in the fumes of the opium with eyes closed in anticipation. It was the only way for him to sleep. And even then it was fitful and restless. If they weren’t nightmares about the tunnels then they were dreams of Lydia. He’s not sure which hurt more. Both were fates we wish he had succumb to. One the sweet release of death and the other the stabilizing power of love. This particular night it was her that flitted behind his eyelids.

“You are being utterly ridiculous!” she giggled against his chest. A chorus of soldiers shushed back. 

“Oi! Go with your bird somewhere else, Shelby!”

“We’ll come over to your cot, Evans!”

“Fuck off!”

“You know,” Lydia began at a whisper and traced her fingertip down the center of Tommy’s chest, “these men are my patients. I can’t have you harassing them throughout their recovery.”

“And what about my recovery, hm? What if the singing and kisses of a beautiful American nurse is the only way for me to recover?” There was her splendid giggle again that he absolutely could not get enough of.

“Thank you for stipulating that they had to be American because I swear Fiona has been eyeing you-” He pressed the ring that hung around her neck to her lips in order to stop the path she was going down.

“I’m a taken man.”

“Not in the eyes of God.” In Tommy’s mind, the ring around his neck was just a formality. Lydia’s desire to wear a white dress in a church was just a formality. He was hers and she was his as sure as he was the sky was blue and his blood ran red.

“We’ll fix that the minute you step off the train with me in Birmingham.” She propped herself up onto her elbow so she could look at him properly. They were both squeezing onto a tiny recovery bed at the field hospital, soldiers packed in like sardines all around them.

“Can’t you just stay here, with me, until it’s time to get on that train.” Lydia gently brushed his hair from his forehead. His eyes caught her off guard every time she looked at them. As if she wasn’t capable of remembering the full scope of their beauty. “As happy as I am that you are healing…” She was scared that once Tommy got better, the bubble they had built would burst. She can’t imagine the pain of losing him. Of losing what they had. 

“Because I am going to go and finish what me and my brothers started. We are going to win this war. So we never have to fight in one again. So I can be with you in Birmingham for the rest of my life. So I can be the man you are deserving of.”

Lydia jumped awake with a heavy breath. Her skin was slick with the remnants of her whiskey induced dream. The clothes she had never changed out of last night were stuck to her skin as she shakily reached for the bottle on her nightstand, tipping it vertical to get the last drop.

“Fuck you, Tommy Shelby.”

@aveiangdon

[wldthoughtz]

Home.

Finn Balor (Fluff/Smut)

(I don’t own the Gif!!)

“Baby,” I heard Finn whisper into my ear softly, stirring me from my sleep. Still feeling the exhaustion from our travels, I began to doze off again. “Hey princess we’re almost there,” He whispered against my hair as he ran his hand up and down my arm. I groaned again pressing myself firmly into the warmth of his chest. “Come on Las you have to wake up for me,” he mumbled down to me as I felt his hand stoke my cheek softly. Slowly blinking my eyes open, I let out a quiet groan as the bright light filtered into the car. Finn chuckled softly and reached over to place his sunglasses over my eyes, “Better?” He chuckled as I sent him an appreciative smile before tenderly connecting my lips with his.

“I love you,” I breathed out against his lips, before a smile made its way onto my face as we pulled away.

He sent me a dashing smile as he tucked a strand of slick her behind my ear, “I love you too darlin… so much.” My heart swelled as he lowered his head placing his lips on mine again in a soft yet firm kiss.

A soft breath left my lips as I pulled away from him sending him a small smile as I took in our surroundings. We were still in the car that was driving us from the airport to his house. Finn’s smile brightened when a small gasp left my lips as I took in the sight of the beautiful landscape that passed us by. Climbing off his lap where I had been resting, I removed the sunglasses and made my way closer to the window as watched the Sun hover over the shimmering water. “Finn…” I breathed out, “Its so beautiful!” I smiled turning back to him and see him beaming with joy as he nodded scooting closer to pull me into his arms.

His arms wrapped around me as we looked out to the beautiful scenery of the water on one side and beautiful mountains on the other. “It is…” He breathed out next to my ear. “But not as beautiful as you,” He smiled brightly at me as I turned my head to the side to capture his lips. We both broke away smiling as we took our seats in the spacious backseat of the SUV. Finn pulled me into his side and rested his head on my shoulder as he noticed the I was still gazing out the window. “Thank you for coming with me,” he smiled brightly at me as I turned back to face him.

My arms circled around his waist in a side hug, “Are you kidding? Thank you for inviting me!” Smiling I reached up and placed a kiss on his stumble.

A content sigh left his lips as he pulled me tighter into him, “You know…” He stated looking straight ahead, then turning to gaze at me, “There’s no one else I’d rather bring here than you.” His words made my heart flutter as I gazed up at him with a trembling bottom lip. “Hey now. No crying” He laughed cupping my cheek with his palm.

“Don’t laugh at me!! You can’t say sweet stuff like that and expect me not to cry!” I mumbled out, resting my head on his hand as I tried to keep my emotions in check.

“Its true though…” He smiled down at me as he lifted my chin so I could meet his lips. This kiss lasted longer as our lips moved softly together in perfect sync. Pressing his lips harder into mine I heard him growl softly against my lips as I pushed my body more into him. His hand that was around my shoulders slipped down my back and cupped my ass through my tight jeans causing me to moan softly against his lips.

“All right you two! All the kissing and mushy stuff I could take but I don’t want to hear anything else.” The driver called out causing Finn and I to break apart quickly.

Finn’s cheeks were tinted pink as he let out a cough before turning to the driver. “Sorry sir. Won’t happen again,” Finn muttered out. The driver raised an eyebrow at him before shaking his head with a smile.

“Good… don’t have time anyways… cus we’re here.” The driver stated causing my blush to deepen. I turned out and glanced out the window as we pulled into a long road that lead straight to a small cottage. I noticed Finn’s cheek color go back to normal and a smile grew on his face as we approached his beautiful home.

Once we were in front of the house the driver hopped down making his way to open the door for Finn, before going to pop open the trunk. Reaching for the handle to my own door I feel a light tug on my hand. “Don’t you dare open that door,” Finn scolded me with a smile as he climbed down and shut his door. Smiling, I rolled my eyes when Finn pulled open the door and extended his hand for me to grab.

Instead of taking his hand I stood up on the step of car and jumped down into his arms, he let out a surprised gasped as his hands circled my body keeping me from falling. “Thank you, my love,” I giggled pulling out of his arms as I made my way to the cottage steps. I heard him grumble something out about tying me up to keep me safe and I immediately felt myself shudder at the thought of being tied up by him. Shaking the inappropriate thoughts from my head I turned and noticed Finn bringing up our suitcases as the car began driving back up the road. “Need a hand?” I called out to Finn as he walked up the stone path, a suitcase in each hand.

“You know better than to ask me that,” He smirked clearly unfazed by the weight of the large suitcases. “You could get the key out of your backpack though,” He called out walking closer to the house. Slipping the backpack off my shoulder I dug out his lanyard with all his keys. Turning towards the door I began to try the different keys that he had into the hole.

A loud gasp left my lips and the keys dropped from my hands when I felt him press his budge right in-between my ass. “Damn you look good in these leggings baby,” He growled against my ear. The suitcases dropped with a loud thud and one arm wrapped firmly around my waist, while the other cupped one of my ass cheeks and began squeezing the flesh causing me to let out a shaky breath as I tilted my head back to him. “You gonna pick those up?” He muttered into my ear as his hand squeezed my ass roughly. I nodded my head against him and let out a soft sigh when he bit into the side of my neck. “Get to it then,” he growled against my skin, his hands made their way to my hips. I knew what he wanted, and I’d be crazy not to give it to him. Slowly I bent forward keeping my ass pressed to his bulge, his hands pulled me tighter into him as he let out a deep groan. Picking up the keys I went to make my way back up when one of his hands pushed down on my back keeping me down. Being bent all the way down I felt his arm circle around my waist again as he rubbed himself against me. A moan left my lips as I felt him begin to rock against me, pulling me back and forth onto his crotch. “I can wait to get you in this house,” he groaned still dry humping me. “Get those damn keys baby,” He growled out as I rose up, making sure to press myself back into him firmly. Fumbling with the keys A soft moan left my lips when I felt one of his hands slide from my hip down into my leggings. My mind goes blank and my head falls back against his shoulder when his fingers dip into my panties. A string of light gasps and moans leave my lips as he works his fingers back and forth against my slit. “It’s silver,” He whispered against my neck breaking me from my trance. I flip through the keys with shaky fingers and almost drop them again when he dips a finger into me causing me to brace myself on the door. His other hand comes around and takes the keys from my hand as I arch back into him, releasing small pants and moans when he curls his finger. The unlocking of the door breaks my blissful state and I let out a groan when I feel Finn’s finger slip from inside of me as he steps back. As I turn myself around ready to complain to him, I witness him slip the finger he used on me into his lip causing my breath to hitch. He watches me with a heated gaze before he nods towards the door as a silent gesture for me to enter the house. Without a word I turn and push open the door and am immediately welcomed into the beautiful Irish cottage. The decoration is minimal and filled with dark and neutral colors which definitely reminds me of Finn. Walking through the hallway, a smile grows on my face as I glance at the pictures of Finn and his family. My heart flutters as I see the numerous pictures of me, while some are of both of us the others are pictures of just me. From posing with my championship to pictures he’s taken of me on his phone. Smiling brightly I walk into the open space a loud gasp leaves my lips as I take in the beautiful waterfront view surrounded by big majestic mountains and gorgeous green forestation. “Beautiful,” I hear Finn whisper from behind me. I turn to nod in agreement when I notice he isn’t looking at the view, he’s looking directly at me. “And here I thought Ireland couldn’t get anymore beautiful,” He mumbles making his way over to me, A blush spreading across my face. “Clearly I was wrong,” he smiles pulling me flush into his arms. 

A loving sigh leaves my lips as I wrap my hands around his neck pulling him down to me, “I love you so much.” I breath out against his lips before connecting them together. His hands slip down to the back of my thighs as he slaps them signaling me to jump. Jumping up my legs wrap themselves around his waist, one of his hands wraps firmly around my waist keep me close to him. Still kissing he beings to walk and within seconds he plops back onto the couch with me on top of him. I feel his denim covered bulge presses hard against the thin fabric of my legging causing us to hiss together. Our kiss is smooth and passionate as our lips still move together perfectly. His hand slips down cupping my ass hard while his other hand holds my waist firmly. My hands thread through his hair, scratching his scalp softly causing him to growl.

“Fuck,” He groans breathlessly as we pull away panting, his hand massages my ass roughly before smacking it hard causing me to yelp as I press further into his crotch. His hand slips forward to the front of my leggings and just as he was about to slip inside the ringing of his cellphone spreads through the room. “What the fuck” He groans pulling away from me. I pout and pull him back into me by his neck, pushing my breast against his chest with a whimper. “I know baby,” he huffs out reaching into his jacket pocket to retrieve his phone. He looks at the screen, “Its my brother,” He sighs out answering the phone. “Hey bro,” he states glancing at me, “Yeah we just got in a few minutes ago.” Reaching down I begin kiss and sucking on his neck causing him to sigh out, his free hand cups my ass and begins to massage it hard, “mm yeah... I mean yeah! Tell her we’ll be there.” he groans out softly as I bite into his neck. “What? No... Just having a good cup of coffee.” He stuttered out giving me a warning look. He continued talking to his brother letting out soft groans as I kept licking and sucking the skin around his neck. I notice him become tense when I began rubbing myself against him creating a delicious friction, “Yea-ah Fuck, No! I mean yeah!” He groaned out standing up abruptly with me still in his arm. “Just burned myself…but yeah she likes it so far.” He mumbled into the phone as he set me back down on the couch causing me to let out a huff while crossing my hands across my chest. He leans down and presses a kiss to my cheek before walking away from me and making his way down the hallway.

A frustrated groan leaves my lips as I throw my head back against the couch. After a while of sulking a devious plan forms in my head to seduce him. I quickly begin pulling down my leggings leaving me in my black sheer thong before I go to remove my fluffy knit sweater too. Making my way down the hallway in my underwear, I follow the sound of Finn’s voice. It leads me to a small sitting room just off the hallway and I watch him stare out the window his back to me as he finishes up the conversation with his brother. “Sounds like a plan then I’ll see you there,” he states into the phone, tensing then relaxing when he feels my hands circle his waist. His free hand squeezes one of mine, “alright bye,” He mumbles before hanging up the phone. A soft breath leaves his lips as I begin massaging his abs through his sweater. “Sorry Babe we’ll have to wait til we get back, my mom is making lunch an-“his words stop as his hand reaches back and lands on my bare thigh.

Taking a few steps back I notice him turn abruptly, his mouth goes slack, and his hand clutches his phone tightly as he takes in my practically bare state. Reaching behind my back I unclip my bra before shrugging it off. A deep groan leaves his lips as he traces my body up and down as I sway my hips back over to him, feeling myself swimming in his hungry gaze. Once in front of him I press my hands to his sweater cover chest. “But I need you now.” I whispered and leaned over, pressing my lips against his. Once broken from his trance, he groans again letting the phone fall on the ground as he yanked me closer to him. His tongue was in my mouth, as he started to feel me up almost desperately. His hands found my bare breasts, and began cupping, stroking, and pinching my nipples roughly. Causing me to gasp hard against his lips from the stimulation.

“Fuck we’re gonna be late,” he murmurs as he bends down, sucking one nipple into his mouth while he toyed with the other.

“Finn,” I gasped as I felt his tongue tugging harshly against my nipple with his teeth. He gazed up at me with hungry eyes before he pulled away from my nipple with a pop. He quickly pulled me up and I jumped into his arms, my legs wound around his waist as he pulled me into a hungry kiss. His hands squeezed my ass as we walked, making me moan and gasp out against his lips. He moves down the hall to find the closest bedroom door but pauses to press me against the wall with his body as he sucked my tongue into his mouth. The sensation was amazing, and I almost came right then and there. Breaking away he gasped for air before pushing his lips back onto mine hurriedly and began carrying me down the hall into the nearest bedroom. Once inside he fell backwards on the bed taking me with him as he continued to kiss me senseless.

Both pulling away breathless, Finn rolled me onto my back, “So sexy,” he whispered down in his rugged accent, cupping both my breasts before leaning down to capture one in his mouth as he licked and sucked, tasting my skin. His lips latched onto my nipple again flicked the nub with his tongue before moving to the other one.

“You’re wearing too much clothes”, I said, trying to tug his sweater over his head. He sat up with a smirk and yanked it off, tossing it on the floor next to us. My mouth watered at the sight of his perfectly sculpted body. He sent me a wink before he returned to my body like a man possessed, licking and nipping at my skin of stomach before making his way back to my breasts.

I trail my fingers down the strong ridges of his back and he moaned when my fingernails scraped lightly against his skin. He was careful to keep most of his weight on his arms as he devoured my breasts. I felt his tongue trailing up across my chest and then his teeth tugged on my earlobe. I combed my fingers through his short soft hair. We both let out a hiss as he rocked his bulge into me.

“Baby,” he whispered against my neck as my fingers touched his chest, feeling the smooth and firmness of his body against my palms. I could feel the stiffening of his body as I bit softly into his neck while he continued rubbing against me. One of his hands reached down and cupped the back of my thigh pulling my hips into his.

A loud moan left my lips when he dug his crotch deep down into me, creating a delicious friction between my sheer thong and his rough jeans. I turned my head quickly to find his lips and kissed him desperately.

He picked up the pace of his strokes, his mouth still kissed be passionately before he broke away and began leaving kisses all the way down my body. Once at my thong his fingers wound around the thin band before pulling hard with a growl. The snapping echoed through the room, leaving the feeling of the delicious sting around my hips. Not wasting anytime, he wedged his muscular shoulders between my legs to hold them open, as dove right in. I felt his tongue lapping at my slit before he moved to my clit where he flicked, licked, and sucked.

“Finn,” I begged. “Please!” I cried out wanting more pleasure.

He teased me by licking up and down my folds before he began flicking my clit with his tongue, then nibbling lightly on it with his teeth causing me to cry out. Growling against me he slipped a finger into my wet opening, then two and then three creating a delicious burn as he stretched me before he started pumping into me, hard. A hard gasp passed my lips when I first came, crying out in pure pleasure as he continued to devour me. Finn pulled away licking his lips before he began placing light kisses up my trembling body. “You taste so sweet,” he groaned and pressed his lips hard against mine, slipping his tongue inside my mouth so I could taste myself.

Pulling away gasping form our erotic kiss, Finn got off the bed and watched me with hungry eyes before he removed his dark designer jeans. “I can’t wait to be deep inside of you lass,” He breathed out pulling down his jeans and briefs. I stood up from the bed and began sinking to my knees when he held me up by my arm. “Uh, Uh. Not right now... I need to be inside the tightness of yours,” He growled at me before pressing his lips firmly to mine as his hand reached up and squeezed my breast. Pulling away he sat down on the edge of the bed and patted his thigh.

Surprising him I turned around, my back pressed flush against his front. I held him steady with one hand and gasped as I lowered myself onto him, a loud cry passed my lips as I finally impaled myself on his thick shaft. We both moaned at the wonderful sensation once he was fully deep in me. He held my waist as I started to move tortuously slow, just shifting forward and back, getting used to the feel of him inside me. He hissed out once I picked up the pace a little, moving up and down his body, until I was bouncing on his cock. After a while, I slowed down again, gripping him tight with my inner muscles and just moving my hips in a slightly circular motions, grinding down on him hard. He growled and pulled me down for a kiss, one hand sneaking down to play with my clit.

He held me close and flipped us over unexpectedly, landing me on my back as I yelped in surprise.

“You’ve had your fun darling,” he mumbled down at me darkly, still deep inside of me, “but I’m going to fuck you now.”

And fuck me he did, pumping in and out of me so fast I could barely keep up. With every thrust his hips slapped against me, and loud cries and moans left my lip. He slowed for a moment, his eyes locked with mine as he ground his hips on mine, just holding it there while we took a few deep breaths. Immediately after he pulled out almost all the way, before pumping in again, going deep, hard, and fast. He did this over and over, punishing my body as every thrust took him deeper inside me. He quickened the pace again, turning me into a moaning mess. I could tell he was close to an orgasm when he pressed his face into my neck before biting down hard, just like he always did when he was close.

Finn kept the pace fast and furious as he drilled me into the mattress. A loud shriek left my lips when he sat up and yanked my legs up over his shoulder. The new angle deepening the penetration causing me to cry out his name. I almost couldn’t breathe because the feeling was so good it was almost painful.

Finn was panting heavily, I felt him getting sloppy with his thrusts as he gave a few last strokes before he trembled and lunged deep inside me, “Fuck,” he cried out in pleasure throwing his head back and digging his nails into my waist. I shuddered when felt his cum coating my walls and his pelvis pressing against my clit. Finn’s hand reached down between us and pressed down on my clit, causing me to expel  a loud cry as I came. And this time it crashed into me hard causing me to jerk almost uncontrollably against him, feeling the walls of my cunt clenching him. A soft cry left my lips when he leaned up to kiss me unintentionally sinking further into me. I felt him so deep, the tip of his cock just nudging my cervix.

Once my breathing slowed, I winced when I felt him pull out of me. He groaned as  he landed next to me on the mattress. His arm reached down and circled my waist as he pulled me up to lay on his chest. “You okay sweetheart?” he breathed out into my hair, as he stroked up and down my arm.

A smile grew on my face as I leaned up to look at his breath-taking eyes, “I’m more than okay baby.” I sighed pressing a small kiss against his stubble.

Smirking he reached down and connected out lips in a delicate kiss, “Good.” He breathed out pulling away. “How does a late lunch with my family, who’s dying to see you and a tour of my beautiful city sound?” He mumbled stroking my cheek softly.

A small hum left my lips, “It sounds absolutely perfect my love.” I smiled leaning into his touch.

His gorgeous smile grew as he sat up pulling me into his lap, “Thank you for coming here with my princess… It means so much having you with me… and I’m sorry you had to choose between going home or coming here.” He stated with a sad pout.

“Baby…No.” I breathed out cupping his face in my hands, “I would go to the end of the Earth with you... besides” I smiled placing my lips firmly against his. Breaking away I rested my forehead against his as I gazed into the sea water of his eye, “My home is wherever you are.” I smiled watching his smile double before pulling me back into a passionate kiss.

“I love you so much darling,” He smiled brightly taking my hands in his.

Leaning closer to him I placed a soft kiss on his nose, “and I love you even more.”

Like this? Check out my other stories!

Mine: Roman Reigns (Smut)

“I got you baby.”: Seth Rollins

Congratulations: Seth Rollins (Smut)

“She’s mine.”: Seth Rollins/ Finn Balor

Believe: Finn Balor

Love: AJ Styles