Sheamus fic (even if you don't like WWE, maybe you'll read it anyway?)
x-posted to theirishcurse
I decided to write my dream I had two nights ago. I realize that no, it may not be enjoyed as much as wrestling SLASH but I don't care. It's giving me more and more wonderful ideas to add to this story. I am already into chapter two, now. So I hope you enjoy it! If anyone can tell me the name of the band that sings the song when when Sheamus comes out on the Titantron, and also the name of the same song. It'd be much appreciated! Thanks very much for reading!
Title: "Green Beer"
Author: Ingrid or showmescars
Genre: Het Romance
Rating: M
Pairing/Characters: "Sheamus" aka. Stephen Farrelly/OFC, Matthew Korklan aka. "Evan Bourne" with a few other WWE wrestlers mentioned and other OFC's
Warnings: Drinking/drug use, some violence, adult language, nudity & eventually "teh secks"
Summary: On St. Patrick's Day in Daytona Beach, w/ her best friend Sidney, Eireann stops at a pub to get away from the heat, where a small riot starts and the man of gets it broken up, while still taking care of her.
A/N: I do not own the characters in this. None of it is true, and I do not make money off of it. Although, I'd like to think that Sheamus owns me. Hell, Sheamus can do anything to me, you sexy thing, you. I also don't own the names of these songs. I just enjoy the hell out of 'em.
"C'mon now, Eire! I wanna see those sexy punk girls handing out the green beer at that booth,” I heard my friend Sidney say.
"I see my Nancy!" He meant Nancy Spungen. He wanted a girl like Nancy Spungen. Ugh! I thought to myself.
"Yeah! Oh, I'm definitely running for your Nancy, Sidney," I hobbled along on my crutches. My favorite holiday, the only one that gives me permission to drink here with my friends has been taken away from me because of a broken leg, skateboarding on the beaches of Daytona. And me leaning on these stupid crutches in the heat of Florida is just cheering me up more and more, as I see my ex-boyfriend running up the hill towards blondes with their hair sprayed green over their blonde hair.
Trudging further up the hill, I approached a real Irish neighborhood pub, O'Malley's. The walls were painted green, and at one end, were the restrooms, at the other, the jukebox. Old O'Malley was tending the bar, and while wiping it down, he gave me a grin and wave, “Aye, 'tis yer day, me love”.
“Not today O'Malley. I broke my leg just on the beach last week.” Wobbling to sit down on a stool, a guy my age I swear looked like Matthew Korklan helped me up. Matthew Korklan played “Evan Bourne” on my favorite, the WWE-- the World Wrestling Entertainment.
“Oh shit! You're Evan Bourne.. I-I mean uh, uh... Matthew Korklan! You are so talented!” Lowering my voice to a whisper, “Ya haven't seen um, Stephen around... have you?”
He looked disappointed as I pulled up my arm to show him my SPF30-covered arm, pale as a ghost. “It's not that I don't enjoy you, or wanted to become a WWE Superstar, 'cause even though all of you enjoy watching those girls, I want to do something where I can fly, too. No disrespect to any of 'em but I really love Eve Torres & Melina best of the Divas. But if I go out into the sun, I burn just like Stephen does.”
Realizing that I've been babbling on, I apologized to Matthew and again asked about Stephen. He motioned to the other end end of the bar, where a tall and muscular Irishman sat near the restrooms with Evan, nursing a green beer. I didn't see his face but I saw his pale skin. “Maybe since you see my predicament, you can help me off this stool, to drop a couple quarters into the jukebox?”
“Sure thing, hun. What's your name?” he smiled.
“Eire, as my friends call me. But formally, Eireann. So, either one really.”
“Oh, he'll love you, doll,” he replied, a big grin upon his face, as he helped me drop a couple quarters into the machine. The Tossers started playing “Whiskey Makes Me Crazy” on the speakers, loudly and quickly. “So you like whiskey, then? That's what I will tell them, Miss Eireann!” He smiled again showing off his pearly white teeth.
“Thank you” I replied, blushing, “so much more than you'll ever know.” I grabbed a crutch and began hobbling towards my purse.
“Where are you going, doll?” Mark asked, in an almost rushed voice.
“Well, I'm going to call my friend to tell him, and I need me a smoke. I am far too nervous!” I said, continuing to blush. He assured me that Stephen was cool and asked me if there was any specific whiskey I loved most, and I told him that it truly didn't matter, as long as it was cold, and adding Coca-Cola to it would certainly not be necessary. Evan opened the door for me after Old O'Malley had shut it because it was getting hotter by the second, especially for me! I pulled out my smokes and leaned against the building, cell phone in hand. I explained to Sidney that I had walked into O'Malley's & met Mark Korkler. I explained the rest of the situation, as I smoked like a mad fiend. Stomping out my cigarette, this creep followed me in, and I held my purse, tightly & carefully in front of me.
Sitting closer to the center of the bar, was a glass of Old Bushmills whiskey w/ green food coloring in it. Old O'Malley told me, “This comes from the gentleman at the end of the bar!” I kissed the glass, and held it up towards Stephen. “Thank ya, but I'm also Irish. So ya gotta kiss me, love!” I managed out, blushing at Stephen.
“Well, awl raight then, love,” he smiled pulling off his hoodie and shirt. I did the same, but left my bra on. All the old fogies' jaws dropped as we embraced, “I'm ma gon' kiss ya, then, me loff,” he whispered in my ear I ran my hand down his sweaty chest, and it gave me goosies all over.
“That gave me goosies all over, Stephen,” I addressed him, smiling, wide as fuck. He pulled down my bra strap, covering my titty, so no one was able to see. He had a tongue ring, and I had a nipple bar-piercing. Stephen smiled widely, wiggling his eyebrows up an' down. I knelt on the bar-stool, my good knee on the seat, leaving the other leg dangling.
“That's enough, the two of ye,” O'Malley declared.
“Aah, c'mon! Ya know Eire. Ya know me. No one's seein' nuthin' they woodint awn St. Paddy's Day!” The rest of the men were all hooting and cheering, while our tongues danced together. He lowered his head down inside my shirt and his tongue ring played with my nipple ring. I felt great pleasure inside my panties and he grabbed the crotch of my denim skirt.
The men in the bar started yelling and hollering my name and “Look out! Duck! Watch out!” Others from the other side of the bar were still cheering for Stephen's and my gain. All of a sudden, the man who followed me from the bench outside the bar grabbed his beer bottle and, while pushing Stephen's head down, and trying to duck down myself, the man swung the bottle at my head.
Then, feeling the smash on my head, I started falling backward. Stephen grabbed my arms, not realizing what had happened. He took my head in his hands, cutting his hand on broken glass. Still holding up my head, I was bleeding out heavily. His friend, Matthew rushed to Stephen, putting a wet towel from O'Malley 'round Stephen's hand. He ran out the bar and, in some crazy move like his character, “Evan Bourne” would do, jumped up and kicked the man in the back of the head. Serves him right for hurting the back of MY head.
Matthew returned to the bar saying, “Call 9-1-1! I got him.” He returned the pill bottles to my purse from my skating accident. I guess the psycho swiped them in the chaos.
I decided to write my dream I had two nights ago. I realize that no, it may not be enjoyed as much as wrestling SLASH but I don't care. It's giving me more and more wonderful ideas to add to this story. I am already into chapter two, now. So I hope you enjoy it! If anyone can tell me the name of the band that sings the song when when Sheamus comes out on the Titantron, and also the name of the same song. It'd be much appreciated! Thanks very much for reading!
Title: "Green Beer"
Author: Ingrid or showmescars
Genre: Het Romance
Rating: M
Pairing/Characters: "Sheamus" aka. Stephen Farrelly/OFC, Matthew Korklan aka. "Evan Bourne" with a few other WWE wrestlers mentioned and other OFC's
Warnings: Drinking/drug use, some violence, adult language, nudity & eventually "teh secks"
Summary: On St. Patrick's Day in Daytona Beach, w/ her best friend Sidney, Eireann stops at a pub to get away from the heat, where a small riot starts and the man of gets it broken up, while still taking care of her.
A/N: I do not own the characters in this. None of it is true, and I do not make money off of it. Although, I'd like to think that Sheamus owns me. Hell, Sheamus can do anything to me, you sexy thing, you. I also don't own the names of these songs. I just enjoy the hell out of 'em.
"C'mon now, Eire! I wanna see those sexy punk girls handing out the green beer at that booth,” I heard my friend Sidney say.
"I see my Nancy!" He meant Nancy Spungen. He wanted a girl like Nancy Spungen. Ugh! I thought to myself.
"Yeah! Oh, I'm definitely running for your Nancy, Sidney," I hobbled along on my crutches. My favorite holiday, the only one that gives me permission to drink here with my friends has been taken away from me because of a broken leg, skateboarding on the beaches of Daytona. And me leaning on these stupid crutches in the heat of Florida is just cheering me up more and more, as I see my ex-boyfriend running up the hill towards blondes with their hair sprayed green over their blonde hair.
Trudging further up the hill, I approached a real Irish neighborhood pub, O'Malley's. The walls were painted green, and at one end, were the restrooms, at the other, the jukebox. Old O'Malley was tending the bar, and while wiping it down, he gave me a grin and wave, “Aye, 'tis yer day, me love”.
“Not today O'Malley. I broke my leg just on the beach last week.” Wobbling to sit down on a stool, a guy my age I swear looked like Matthew Korklan helped me up. Matthew Korklan played “Evan Bourne” on my favorite, the WWE-- the World Wrestling Entertainment.
“Oh shit! You're Evan Bourne.. I-I mean uh, uh... Matthew Korklan! You are so talented!” Lowering my voice to a whisper, “Ya haven't seen um, Stephen around... have you?”
He looked disappointed as I pulled up my arm to show him my SPF30-covered arm, pale as a ghost. “It's not that I don't enjoy you, or wanted to become a WWE Superstar, 'cause even though all of you enjoy watching those girls, I want to do something where I can fly, too. No disrespect to any of 'em but I really love Eve Torres & Melina best of the Divas. But if I go out into the sun, I burn just like Stephen does.”
Realizing that I've been babbling on, I apologized to Matthew and again asked about Stephen. He motioned to the other end end of the bar, where a tall and muscular Irishman sat near the restrooms with Evan, nursing a green beer. I didn't see his face but I saw his pale skin. “Maybe since you see my predicament, you can help me off this stool, to drop a couple quarters into the jukebox?”
“Sure thing, hun. What's your name?” he smiled.
“Eire, as my friends call me. But formally, Eireann. So, either one really.”
“Oh, he'll love you, doll,” he replied, a big grin upon his face, as he helped me drop a couple quarters into the machine. The Tossers started playing “Whiskey Makes Me Crazy” on the speakers, loudly and quickly. “So you like whiskey, then? That's what I will tell them, Miss Eireann!” He smiled again showing off his pearly white teeth.
“Thank you” I replied, blushing, “so much more than you'll ever know.” I grabbed a crutch and began hobbling towards my purse.
“Where are you going, doll?” Mark asked, in an almost rushed voice.
“Well, I'm going to call my friend to tell him, and I need me a smoke. I am far too nervous!” I said, continuing to blush. He assured me that Stephen was cool and asked me if there was any specific whiskey I loved most, and I told him that it truly didn't matter, as long as it was cold, and adding Coca-Cola to it would certainly not be necessary. Evan opened the door for me after Old O'Malley had shut it because it was getting hotter by the second, especially for me! I pulled out my smokes and leaned against the building, cell phone in hand. I explained to Sidney that I had walked into O'Malley's & met Mark Korkler. I explained the rest of the situation, as I smoked like a mad fiend. Stomping out my cigarette, this creep followed me in, and I held my purse, tightly & carefully in front of me.
Sitting closer to the center of the bar, was a glass of Old Bushmills whiskey w/ green food coloring in it. Old O'Malley told me, “This comes from the gentleman at the end of the bar!” I kissed the glass, and held it up towards Stephen. “Thank ya, but I'm also Irish. So ya gotta kiss me, love!” I managed out, blushing at Stephen.
“Well, awl raight then, love,” he smiled pulling off his hoodie and shirt. I did the same, but left my bra on. All the old fogies' jaws dropped as we embraced, “I'm ma gon' kiss ya, then, me loff,” he whispered in my ear I ran my hand down his sweaty chest, and it gave me goosies all over.
“That gave me goosies all over, Stephen,” I addressed him, smiling, wide as fuck. He pulled down my bra strap, covering my titty, so no one was able to see. He had a tongue ring, and I had a nipple bar-piercing. Stephen smiled widely, wiggling his eyebrows up an' down. I knelt on the bar-stool, my good knee on the seat, leaving the other leg dangling.
“That's enough, the two of ye,” O'Malley declared.
“Aah, c'mon! Ya know Eire. Ya know me. No one's seein' nuthin' they woodint awn St. Paddy's Day!” The rest of the men were all hooting and cheering, while our tongues danced together. He lowered his head down inside my shirt and his tongue ring played with my nipple ring. I felt great pleasure inside my panties and he grabbed the crotch of my denim skirt.
The men in the bar started yelling and hollering my name and “Look out! Duck! Watch out!” Others from the other side of the bar were still cheering for Stephen's and my gain. All of a sudden, the man who followed me from the bench outside the bar grabbed his beer bottle and, while pushing Stephen's head down, and trying to duck down myself, the man swung the bottle at my head.
Then, feeling the smash on my head, I started falling backward. Stephen grabbed my arms, not realizing what had happened. He took my head in his hands, cutting his hand on broken glass. Still holding up my head, I was bleeding out heavily. His friend, Matthew rushed to Stephen, putting a wet towel from O'Malley 'round Stephen's hand. He ran out the bar and, in some crazy move like his character, “Evan Bourne” would do, jumped up and kicked the man in the back of the head. Serves him right for hurting the back of MY head.
Matthew returned to the bar saying, “Call 9-1-1! I got him.” He returned the pill bottles to my purse from my skating accident. I guess the psycho swiped them in the chaos.