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artemiseamoon · 1 year ago

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What the heart wants

Pero Tovar x F Reader*

🤶🏾🎁Secret Santa fic ✨ for @blueeyesatnight !!! ✨ Happy holidays! (event hosted by @pedrostories )

Read below * or on A03

Words: 7,621

Summary: As Spring rolls around, you find yourself content with your life. Business is successful, you have all the independence you want and good friends to share life with. A man wasn't something you needed or were seeking at the time as occasional lovers fulfilled your primal urges. But it was clear, life had other plans as a handsome but dirty mercenary blew through your doors.

Warnings: some canon period misogyny (not much), Pero 😂, language, brothel mention & mild sexual content.

*Reader notes: there are some details!!! So it’s not a completely blank slate; reader is female, in her upper 30s, sturdy/curvy built (visualize as you please) & often wears pants not dresses. No skin tone/race mentioned but she does understand & speak some Spanish. *Feel free to read as an OC if you prefer*

AN: If you already know me, you know I no longer crosspost to this site, nor write reader inserts. Since this is a special occasion, it’s both a RC & crossposted (here & on my A03) 😁 happy reading! This was so fun to write.

You

Holding the cuff to the afternoon light, you examined your work closely, feeling satisfied with the end result. Growing up the daughter of a blacksmith, you learned several things, and though you could make a sword, you quickly found you preferred making jewelry; it filled you with joy, especially when you saw the end result and the look on people's faces.

You had kitchenware under your belt too, it was the kind of thing that always bought in coin, as it was a needed everyday item. Currently, you are perfecting your skills in armor making. You started to learn back in your early 20s, now in your late 30’s you could create decent work, but you wanted to be better. Never one to back down from a challenge, you made it your newest goal.

You just set the new cuff aside when the small bell chimed, filling the halls with the familiar sound. Stepping away from the desk, you peeked out of the doorway and down the hall, where you had a straight shot of the front door.

You quirked a brow as a man you’ve never seen before stalked in, the wind sweeping inside with him, along with a bad mood like a dark cloud overhead. Upon first glance, he almost seemed inconvenienced, yet you saw him walk in alone, no one forced him.

He was handsome with dark features, but dirty, and needed a good shave. The stranger wore the kind of scowl that would keep people ten feet away from him. His attire and the double swords strapped to his back gave his profession away, a mercenary. They often traveled through these parts en route to somewhere else and stayed a night or two; it made good coin for the local businesses when they did.

You thought about revealing yourself but chose to watch him a little longer. You observed him as he moved deeper into the shop, his eyes moving about the place as he took it in.

He scratched his beard, grumbling something you couldn’t hear, as he touched and poked at things along the way. He was a fascinating creature to watch, and one of the best-looking men you’ve seen in a long time, even under all the dirt and grime, and the sharp chip on his shoulder. That’s when you noticed the scar, one that made you curious about the how, and made him even hotter at the same time.

Even his walk was attractive, he seemed more like a wild animal than a man, like a feral wolf just wandered into your shop and right into your hands.

Pero (minutes ago)

Dragging his feet, Pero made his way through the town, eyeing signs on doors and windows, looking for work. He was tired, bone tired, his back hurt like all hell, his ass was numb from being on his horse so long, and he was annoyed. He was starving, he ran out of rations early this morning and was running on a piece of stale bread at the moment. He’d try one more place, then get some damn food, followed by a room, a bath, and a whore.

He was about halfway down the block when he noticed the blacksmith sign. In his half hour here, it seemed West Meadow had no work for him requiring his swords, but a man could always be useful in a shop like that.

Pero entered, his stomach grumbling and fighting with him. He expected to see a forge as soon as he walked in but was met with a plain room with a simple desk, two chairs, and a long table. Ahead was a hallway that likely led to some other rooms. The smells of iron, steel, wax, and fire met his nose, there was definitely a forge, maybe in the back.

Where the hell was everyone?

Patience wasn’t a friend of his. He called out and was only met with his own echo.

Cursing under this breath, he decided to ditch this plan for now, and just get some food. A door opened in the distance. He turned, expecting to see a man appear, but a man it wasn't.

Pero tilted his head to the side as his eyes raked over you. You were beautiful, with a face that was downright distracting, but that wasn’t all, when you smiled, you nearly knocked his bad mood right out of him. Your smile was so full and bright that he finally understood what that stupid saying, bright as the sun, meant.

You were well-built, sturdy, and curvy in the right places. That was clear even with the heavy apron you wore. Pero raised his eyes back to your own. Even the smudges on your face and a mask over your hair didn’t take away from your beauty.

Pero regained his composure, then asked gruffly, “who's in charge?”

Your smile dropped, “well, hello to you too.”

“Where’s your husband or father?”

“Are you serious?” you rested a hand on your hip.

His eyes dropped to your hand, you were wearing gloves, so he didn't know if you wore a ring or not, “Brother?”

An irritated laugh fell out of you as you shook your head.

“Unless…” he started, “you’re alone here?”

“I am the owner, you ass.” you held up your hands, then tore off a glove, “no husband either!”

He looked at you with disbelief in his eyes, “a woman alone, here? "his accent coming out even more now.

“Yes,” you growled back at him, growing more agitated.

Your initial sunny demeanor was gone, now you were like a cat with your claws out.

“Lo siento, “he held out a hand as he apologized like he was trying to calm a bull, “I’m just looking for work.”

He had a lot of questions.

A woman was usually married, which you weren’t, taken, or would be under her father's supervision, which you weren’t either. Or a whore, which you didn’t seem to be. You also claimed to run this business on your own, which was unusual. And you didn’t have a man guarding the door either, you were strange in fact, very strange.

“Not hiring,” you replied in Spanish, which made him raise a brow at you. “You can go now.”

You & Pero

What an ass.

You thought, sure he was hot, and you were very intrigued, but you didn’t need the attitude or the barbaric mindset. There were enough assholes in town who had opinions about you, and the kind of life you should live. You didn’t need some dirty mercenary putting his two cents in the matter.

You only made it a few steps away from him before stopping, you could feel him lingering, his eyes on you. You doubled back. You assessed him with your eyes and pulled the mask fully off your head.

Maybe he could be useful, you thought. “What are you good at?”

He smirked, taking a half step your way, “You really the boss?”

“Yes.” you hissed.

“Swords, blades, knives.” he paused, his eyes still on yours, even as he pointed at his suit, “repairs.”

“Hmmm,” you crossed your arms while continuing to study him. “I do all that. No need for you.”

He chuckled. Yeah, he liked you, he liked you a lot. Before he could stop himself, he asked,

“Is this really your place? No man is hiding back there?”

You rolled your eyes and pointed to the door, “see the name on the fucking sign, that’s my last name. My father is too old to work, I have no brothers, this place is mine. Got a problem with that?”

He smirked, liking the sass, this kitty scratches. “No problem.”

You locked in a stare with him, almost getting distracted by his eyes, you could lose yourself in them. In the back of your mind, you thought about the long list of things you had to do, and an extra hand around here might be good, but you weren’t sure if you’d reveal that to him yet.

You pointed to the door, “I’ll think about it. Come back tomorrow.”

Pero was about to say something when the door opened, he turned to see a man enter, then quickly looked at you again, seeing your smile return. Damn, it was a sight to see.

The man moved right past Pero like he wasn’t there and went straight to you. As you greeted each other, you pulled a pouch out of your apron and revealed a metal wristband.

“I was just about to send word, it’s finished,” you display your work proudly.

Pero grinned, a woman metalsmith, how odd. You continued to intrigue him by the second.

“Lovely work as always,” the man said your name while admiring it.

Your eyes darted to Pero’s. “Tomorrow,” you repeated sharply.

Pero huffed, then saw himself out.

Early Evening, The Three Bucks Inn & Tavern

As Pero parked himself at a table off to the side, he took in his surroundings. The Tavern was busy with locals, and a few people who looked like visitors.

“Can I get ya anything?” the barmaid asked as she stopped by this table, she spoke over the crowd, making sure he could hear her.

“Food and ale,” Pero answered while slapping the silver coins on the table.

She pocketed the coins. “Anything else?”

Pero sat back, really looking at her this time. The woman was good-looking, a little thin for him, he preferred them thicker. Like that woman from the shop, you were sturdy, you could handle him. He shrugged the thought away. A whore would be better anyway, get in, get laid, go to bed.

“A room and a whore,”

He’d been on the road for months, he needed to fuck a woman as bad as he needed a good bath and a shave. Plus, a good night's sleep, on a bed for once. He was getting older; all the years had taken their toll on his body. He was still skilled and quick on his feet, but he required more rest now.

“I’ll get ya a bed.” she pointed toward the door, “Take a left past the carriage house. Walk till you reach the end of West Street. Madame Mae’s is the last house on the corner. No missing it. Red door. Just about as subtle as you are.”

Pero frowned as the woman left to fulfill the order.

He was looking forward to a hot meal, real food, not the shit he was surviving on for the last few months. He hoped the whores at Mae’s were decent, he’d fuck what he could get, but someone nice to look at would be even better.

Well, you would be better. He tried to put you out of his mind, but like a phantom, you wouldn’t leave, he kept thinking about your smile, your form, and the way you shot venom with your eyes when he pissed you off. If you know how to forge metal, you could likely use a sword too, and the thought made his cock twitch.

The whore would have to do it, but you would be better.

Later, Pero

Now that Pero had a bath, a shave, and a satisfactory fuck with a decent whore, a good night's rest was next. But it was still a little early and he was feeling restless.

Mierda

Maybe he should have gone with William. But what the fuck would he have done with himself? His blonde-haired friend had done the foolish thing of falling in love and doubled back to the place they left behind nearly a year ago. After they left the wall, they spent months on the road, taking jobs and for Pero at least, trying to get China out of his mind.

Pero’s solo journey wasn’t going so well, and if had to spend another 3-5 months on horseback, starving, cold, horny, and bearing the weather, he’d kill someone. A lot of someones.

Pero wanted to stop moving, just for a little while, make some money at the same time. A lot of money, preferably. He already spent most of this year and last on the move, and if this town had no work, he’d just drag himself to the next.

Soon his restlessness, and busy mind led him to leave the bed. Leaving the inn, he stepped out onto the street, the townspeople were enjoying the weather, and the night market was still going, though some vendors were starting to pack up.

Pero only walked a few minutes before he saw you again. You were chatting with a vendor, a woven basket in one hand, full of various items. You were dressed in a dark tunic tucked into dark pants and boots, with a blade holstered to your right thigh. He expected to see you in skirts outside of the shop, but again, you were no ordinary woman, not by any stretch.

Pero lingered in the background, watching, soon he heard your laugh for the first time. Fuck, it was wonderful, just as wonderful as your smile. You were both the sweetest thing he’d ever seen, and mean as a snake when pressed, you also looked like you could throw a punch, and he liked that.

As the vendor made you laugh again, Pero felt something else and wanted to kick himself for it. He spent a total of 5 minutes with you, what the fuck did he have to be jealous about? He chalked it up to his sleep-deprived state, and maybe needing to get laid again tomorrow - that should calm him down.

There you were, his shadow, and all it took was 5 minutes. He thought about you all day, in the bath while he jerked off, and even when he fucked that whore. Pero felt ridiculous. Maybe William wasn’t the foolish one, maybe it was him.

Before he could stop himself, his feet were moving as he made his way over to you.

You

You felt eyes on you the whole time but could finally pinpoint the source. There he was, coming your way. All dark and broody and sexy as hell and cleaned up.

“Oh, the brute. Are you stalking me?”

He grunted, “No.”

“Sure?” You smirked as you shifted the basket to your other hand. “Because stalking is not a good way to get hired. In fact, it’s creepy.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, cariño. If I want a woman, I pay a whore.”

You raised your brows at him, what you were feeling wasn’t offense, it was something you couldn’t put your hands on.

“Well, the next time you go, why don’t you ask for a job. Maybe they’re hiring.” Without giving him time to respond, you were off, taking long strides away from him.

No matter how hot he was, he was irritating as hell. Brute, yeah, that was a good fit and that's what he was. The last thing you needed was to get involved with a guy like him.

No. Do not go there, you remind yourself. Even if he was hot as sin.

The next day, You and Pero

You were just setting up for a ring you’re working on, then the bell chimed.

It was much too early for clients, and there was only one person you could think of who would be here right now. You weren't sure if you hoped it was him, or dreaded the possibility. Leaving the work desk, you stepped out into the front room and saw him standing there.

“Ugh.” You sighed then headed back into the other room.

In the back of your mind, you thought of bringing your dogs next time, so they could watch the front door.

Pero took it upon himself to follow you inside. You leaned against the desk with crossed arms.

“What?”

“You said come back tomorrow.”

You were listening, well, half listening. He looked even better than he did yesterday, in the light of day, you could fully appreciate all the grooming he did.

As you noticed last night, he got a haircut, but it was still long enough to grab, to run your finger through. Unable to stop yourself, your eyes slid down his face, over his excellent bone structure, the cleaned-up beard, and down to his neck, even that part of him was sexy. You could feast your eyes on him for hours.

“Happy to see me?” He smirked, stopping in front of you, enjoying the way you greedily took him in.

“Not really,”

Pero's stance was confident, eye contact unwavering. “You need my help. Hire me.”

“What? So, you could protect me from men and beasts? I have a feeling you are both.”

He chuckled, fully amused, “I could,” he shrugged, “I am.”

“Besides, I’ve been in my share of fights. I’m good with sharp things.”

Fuck, Pero thought, your words hitting him right in his core and going lower. You were special.

“The team we’d make then, why not have the best swordsman on your grounds?”

You uncrossed your arms, "and you’re full of yourself, what a winner. I don’t need your help.”

Pero scoffed. “You’re short a man. Injury.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, how did he know that?

Auden hurt his arm pretty bad last week, it was mainly you and him here, he was your main employee. You had two apprentices, but they weren’t where they needed to be yet, you were carrying the bulk of work on your shoulders. This handsome, grumpy stranger did his homework.

Still, he irritated you, so you said, “I don’t need you. You can go now.”

Pero hated that. He didn’t mean to be so rough when he reached out to grab your wrist, but he didn’t like being dismissed.

He didn’t even know what he was going to say, just grabbed you, making you spin around to face him. Your eyes burned with anger and something else more sensual behind that. Before he could speak, you slapped him, clear across the cheek. He was more impressed than mad.

As he rubbed his face and chuckled, you grabbed an unfinished blade from the table and pressed the sharp edge to his neck. His brown eyes widened as he stared at you.

“Get the fuck out.” You warned through gritted teeth.

Your lips, that’s where his eyes went, even with a blade to his throat.

Instead of a fight, a counter move, or a slew of curses, Pero's sultry gaze lingered on your lips, then met your eyes again. Despite yourself, you stole a glance of his mouth, and those kissable lips of his.

Sure, the mercenary was a pain in the ass. Whatever depths of hell dragged this man to your front door, you didn’t know. He was like a dog who kept coming back and you didn’t totally hate that. In fact, you -

The bell over the front door chimed as a customer came in. You both heard it, yet remained locked in a tense lust-filled stare. When you licked your lips, simply to moisten them, his eyes followed the movement. The bastard didn’t even flinch with the blade to his neck.

Why have a whore when he could have you? Pero thought, the idea followed by images that awakened him in other places.

“Hello?” The patron called out your name, you knew who it was by voice alone.

“One minute,” you shouted back, eyes still on Pero.

“Repairs, the two blades I told you about,” they said from beyond the door.

“I start now,” Pero stated with a smug grin.

“Are you fucking serious?”

He chuckled, finding your astonishment cute. Pero took one more indulgent, long look at you then stepped out into the main room.

Unable to move, the blade still in your hand, you stared at the door. Did he really just walk in here, hire himself, then look at you like you were a steak dinner? Yeah, he did.

“Pendejo.” You cursed, then pushed the door open. “I don’t even know his name…”

Two weeks later, You & Pero

Pero continued to annoy and intrigue you at the same time. He was a good worker, skilled, able to repair things and even knew how to make swords and blades. It was impressive.

He wasn’t a warm guy, which was obvious from first impressions, an acquired taste really. You kept him away from interacting with customers because of his harsh, curt demeanor, leaving him to mainly work in the workshop and behind the scenes, while you handled the front of the house, you, or your apprentices Nura and Robert.

You liked Nura the most, not that Robert was bad, he was a fast learner, and attentive worker. It was just extra special training another woman. You enjoyed seeing her defy the social norms and carve out her own path, same as you. You saw her like a little sister.

Everything ran smoothly at the shop, but the two of you still didn't know much about each other on a personal level. Pero didn’t talk about himself, or his life, nor did you.

Having him around gave you more free time, and you used some of that to dive into your other love, herbalism. One of your dreams was to open an apothecary, the town already had one, but you wanted your own, and you already knew how to make yours extra special.

This dream was on your mind when you cleared out a back room in the building and started to play around with tinctures and blends on your downtime. Pero made little comments along the way when he saw you in there, they gave you a few clues about him.

Being on the road, he knew a few things and recognized some of the herbs. He had a comfort there, but when you were creating potions as he called it, you noticed he’d get a little freaked out, and it didn’t take long to figure out he had a thing about magic and witches.

You weren’t a witch, but you knew how to make some things, and some days, just to fuck with him, you exaggerated.

- Flashback, to a few days ago -

You only stepped away for a moment but returned to see Pero observing the jars from a distance. He stopped at a corked bottle with an unusual purple hue, and some kind of clawed root at the bottom.

Pero picked it up cautiously, then put it down, “what kind of witchery is this?”

You leaned against the wall and crossed your arms in a relaxed way, “ingredients to turn you into a dragon.”

Pero whipped around to you with a suspicious look, “Are you joking?”

“Yes,” you laughed, “unless, you piss me off.”

“I always piss you off.”

"You better be careful then. And stop leaving your hair around, I’m collecting it.”

As you laughed and walked out of the room, he ran his palm over his hair, which only made you laugh more.

- Flashback over -

Three weeks later, Pero

The tavern was alive, packed wall to wall, and the revelry high; it was a special night as you threw Nura a birthday party.

Pero didn’t do parties, but it was better than sulking in his room alone, and he was pretty tired of the whores at Mae’s. He’s been here over a month now, fucked most of them all, and it did little to calm what he really needed and wanted, you.

Whenever he saw you laughing, having a good time, or flirting he was tempted to march over and claim you for himself, to kiss you in front of everyone and make it clear he would cut the head off any man who tried to win your affection.

Pero was sure you were attracted to him, he caught the stolen glances, still you never made a move or voiced your attraction. He knew you weren’t shy. Was it him? Were you doing this to torture him? What a wicked witch you were.

Even when he had two whores the other night, it only took the edge off. How you haunted him so. He felt defeated, maybe? But he wasn’t a quitter. He’d get you all for himself somehow. Pero wished William was here, the blonde would give him advice, advice he needed because Pero wasn’t good at shit like this.

Fighting, fucking, eating, and drinking, be had that down. But trying to win a woman’s heart, he had no fucking idea how to do that. He had to do this right. He didn’t want you just once, he wanted you for good.

Could it be, were you his...princesa? No. You weren't a princess. You we're tough. You looked after yourself and made your own way in life. No, reina, that's more fitting.

Where’s the Irishman when I need him? I could use your help amigo.

As a drunk man bumped into his table, Pero scowled at him, then lost himself in thought again, downing his ale at the same time. Things you like, yes, he’d start there. Women like gifts, right?

He noticed you enough at the markets to know some things, including your favorite dessert at the bakery. Good. A plan. He nodded to himself, then stood. He stole one more glance of you, across the way and having a good time, then made his way out of the tavern.

The next morning

Your head was spinning, too much ale. To make up for that, you pushed your work back to the afternoon and planned to take a nap upstairs once Pero got in. Last night came to mind, he was there, then he wasn’t. You were surprised he even came.

“Speak of the devil,” you said while rubbing your temples.

Pero nodded, looking a bit awkward, then put the bag he was holding for dear life on the desk. “Here.”

You poked the bag, “what is this?”

He scratched his temple, his brown eyes looking puppy-like, “uh, that sweet round thing, with cream and berries.”

You grinned, “from the bakery?”

“Sí.”

You bite back a full smile, then open the bag, “is poisoned?”

Pero sighed and then started to walk away.

“I’m joking!” you shouted back at him, “thank you Pero.”

He glanced back, and you swore you could see a little smile on his closed lips.

The week would be full of surprises. It started on Monday when he got your favorite dessert from Sweets n Breads Bakery. He was kind of awkward all day, didn’t say much to you, and seemed wrapped up in his own thoughts.

On Tuesday, there was another pastry waiting for you, and some of your to-do list was already completed. He explained he worked late and decided to get more done.

On Wednesday, you arrived to another pastry, and flowers with dirt and roots still attached, flowers you were sure he tore from someone's garden on the way over. Soil was all over the place, and you had to dust it off your papers.

He didn’t hand them to you directly, just busied himself in the forge while they sat on your desk. You waited until he was free to ask him about them. He was just finishing his lunch in the kitchen when you joined him.

“So, flowers.”

His eyes moved over you as he swallowed the last of his food, “women like flowers, yes? Even women who wear pants?"

Pero was panicking a little this morning, worried the pastry wasn't enough. On the way to work, he saw a guy give a girl flowers, and then get a kiss in return, so he figured, why not try. Even if he felt like a damn fool doing it.

You could see his mind going as you watched him. He was so cute, so innocent in this moment, you could kiss him right there. You also knew from the mix of flowers, they were from Mrs. Jennings' garden, and she was likely throwing a fit right now.

“Ever give a girl flowers before?” you asked as you sat next to him.

“No,” he answered, his eyes on you.

“Well, thank you,”

He shrugged, playing it cool, but you could see in his eyes he was hoping you liked his gesture.

“And the pastry, it was delicious, you’re buttering me up, Pero.”

“You like them. Yes?”

“I do.”

He smiled and relaxed back in his chair.

You leaned in closer, playing with his collar, “I won't say it's working but - “ you plant a kiss on his cheek. His eyes lit up as he smiled wider. “I have work to do.” You got up, taking one more look at him before leaving the room.

Thursday

Nura was organizing something when Pero came in, he walked in like he was in a hurry, and spoke in a low tone,

“I have a question.”

She looked up at him with a smile, knowing it was about you.

At first, she thought Pero was an ass, which he is, but she liked him now, he grew on her, and when it came to you, he was kind of adorable and an idiot at the same time.

“If it's about flowers, Mrs. Jennings is on a warpath, I recommend you stop taking them before she bites your hand off. She may be old, but she's mean as hell.”

He nodded, then came around the desk to join Nura.

“What else does she like? Boots? I could buy her boots?"

“She likes practical things. Maybe something she could use.”

“She likes swords.”

“She loves them, maybe a little too much.”

“What if I make her one?”

“Pastries and flowers are nice, so are boots, but if you make her a custom sword, that may do the trick. No promises, just sayin.”

Pero nodded, he grumbled a thank you, then headed back to the forge. Robert passed him in the hall and joined Nura.

“That's a man on a mission, nearly ran me over.”

“He’s smitten.” she handed him a note, "the supplies.”

“Somehow he seems a little less - grumpy these days.”

“Little by little, but I think even if he is in a good mood, he’d still be grumpy.”

Robert hummed, “I still don't get why she likes him so much.”

“I think I do; they’d be cute together.”

Not agreeing, but not going to argue either, Robert just nodded, then made his way out with the list.

Days later

You weren’t supposed to come in today, so when you came through the door, rushing like a bat out of hell, it took Pero by surprise. Not just because he didn’t expect to see you until tomorrow, it was the dress that shocked him the most. In all his time here, dark colored tops, pants, and boots were how you dressed yourself.

“I’m not here, ignore me,” you shouted as you rushed past him, then Nura.

The younger woman caught a glimpse of Pero’s expression and laughed.

“She’s wearing a dress..."

“Once in a blue moon, for special occasions. Her childhood friend is getting married today.” Nura explained.

Pero’s brows raised higher as you appeared again, a pouch in hand.

“A dress-" he repeated, taking you in with his eyes.

You hiked up the dress, he got a flash of your legs as you carefully slid the pouch into your high boot.

As you smoothed the fabric down, Pero feasted on you. To see you like this, so feminine as the soft flowing fabric hugged your form and for the first time, he had a good look at your cleavage, the fabric cupping your breasts in a way the loose shirts never did; he was a man ready to pounce, to scale the counter and claim you then and there.

“Fuck-“ you cursed,

He laughed. Strong and independent, a mouth like a sailor. A lady, and a warrior in one. His perfect woman.

“Can’t believe I forgot this. I gotta go,” you started to breeze past them, then stopped as you locked eyes with Pero. You grinned, eyeing him with the same sultry gaze he sent your way. “Like it?” You asked while giving a teasing spin.

“Sí, you should wear more dresses.”

“Maybe one more this year, if you give me a good reason to,” you winked at him then dashed out of the door.

“That woman -“ Pero shook his head as he stared at the door.

“Oh you are far gone Pero,” Nura patted his arm, “just tell her already.”

“Tell her what ?”

“How you feel. I’m sure you’ve noticed; she has other suitors.”

“And I’ll fight them all.” He grew serious.

Dammit, the thought. He came here for work, rest and to get laid. He didn’t expect this, he didn’t plan to -

Nura’s light laugh pulled him out of his head. “Just tell her. She likes you too.”

“She flirts with me but makes no moves.”

“You really are adorable when confused.”

“Adorable? I’m not adorable.”

She chuckled, “Have you considered that she wants you to make the first move?”

“She’s no weak woman, she makes swords and wears pants.”

“That doesn’t mean she doesn't want to be perused, she takes charge daily, maybe she wants someone else, you, to take the lead this time.” She playfully tapped Pero’s head

He groaned and swatted her hand.

“Take the lead Pero, don’t overthink it,” Nura advised, then laid her hands on the counter. “We have a lot of work to do, ready?”

“Ready.”

As they headed back, he asked something he was curious about. He started by saying your name,

“Are you the same as her? No husband?”

“No, and there won’t be. I’m gay.” She answered.

Pero quirked a brow.

She added, “I like women. And I do have a girlfriend, the bartender at three bucks, with freckles.”

Ah, Pero thought, he’d seen her before.

“This is a strange place indeed,” he muttered, “I’ve never been to a place like this, with such women.”

“I like to think our town is special. But that doesn’t mean we don’t have people with opinions or those who accuse us of devil worship or witchcraft.”

“Are you, a witch?”

“I know some things, “she grinned, “can I watch you finish that armored plate before I start my work?”

Pero grinned, “Sí, vamos.”

The kid, well Nura wasn’t a kid, she was 25 now, but he called her that sometimes; she had given him some good advice about you and handled his moods with ease.

In Pero’s time here, Robert still wasn’t a fan of his, but they had no fights between them minus some minor disagreements. Your main guy, Audin, was still in recovery but came in from time to time to help with smaller things. His role reduced until he got better. Pero liked the guy, what little he saw of him.

In these weeks, Pero found himself most fond of Nura, she was like the little sister he never asked for. He could see why you liked her so much and why you took her under your wing.

A couple of weeks later

Pero studied his work with a sharp eye, searching for any imperfections.

Any other time he made a blade, it was robotic, just doing something he knew how to do, but this mattered more than any of those times. It had to be perfect because he was shit with words, he hoped he could hand you this and you would know all the things he wanted to say to you.

Months ago, if someone told him a woman like you existed, he would have laughed and called bullshit. But you were real, very real, and meant to be his. For you, he’d move into this town for good, put the long journeys to rest, and figure out all that shit he avoided all his life, like how to win a woman's heart and share his life with someone. He was sure he'd fuck up, a lot, piss you off, and get it wrong, but as long as he had you, he would keep trying to get it right.

Once the blade was packed up, he made his way to your house on the edge of town. He was nervous, more than he'd been in a long time, and he felt foolish. He wondered what Willaim would say if he saw him right now.

Pero stared at the door, part of him wanting to knock, and the other wanting to run, to turn around and get the hell out of here before he got himself even more wrapped up in this, in you.

It had to be witchery; how else would you have such a hold on him?

What are you waiting for, get moving, Pero heard in his friend's voice, phantom William pushing him forward. He could hear the dogs barking and coming his way in the distance.

Pero knocked on the door…

Once Pero was inside, you offered him a drink. He sat at your kitchen table as you poured ciders then went over to him.

“A home visit, what’s the special occasion?” you asked as you sat.

“Visiting the dogs." he smirked.

"Of course," you shook your head and took a drink.

Over the last few weeks, you’ve seen a new side of Pero emerge, and it made you like him more.

You’ve made the first move before and thought about doing that with him, but it would be so much more fun if he did it. You wanted him to charge in here and ravish you, and you were hoping today was the day, but the sense of nervousness you’re getting off of him makes you unsure.

“I have something for you,” he pulled a wrapped item from his pouch. He placed it on the table as his eyes met yours. “A gift.”

“Really?”

Pero watched, holding his breath as you unwrapped it, revealing the most perfect blade you’ve ever seen. Down to the handle, and the engravings. In the past, you made a few for yourself but always felt like you were missing something. Pero, this man sent to you from the universe, somehow got it right.

You held the blade, running your fingers over it, admiring it as your lips parted slightly in shock. At first, Pero was worried you didn’t like it, but as your eyes lit up, he relaxed and dropped his shoulders.

“Pero - “ you breathed, your eyes flicking to his, then back at the blade. “This is perfect.”

His small grin turned to a full smile and before you could say anything else, he dragged your chair closer to his with one hand. While cupping your cheek, Pero leaned in, bringing his lips to yours.

Smiling as he kissed you, you put the blade down and grabbed his arms. Pero drew you into his lap as the kiss deepened, intensifying with each pass of each other's lips.

His kiss was passionate, consuming, desperate and you could swear, your body was feeling all the things he wanted to say to you and was too afraid to say; the floodgates blasted open and as your hands roamed, finally exploring each other's bodies, you knew there was no going back after this.

"Mi reina, I'll fuck you on the floor if I have to. But it must happen now."

The hoarse desperation in his voice only made you hotter for him.

You tugged his hair while teasing another kiss, “I prefer a bed handsome. Follow me.”

“Gladly.”

You held out your hand, he took it. As you made your way to the bedroom, Pero latched on to you, kissing and biting at your neck, his hands moving over your breasts as his cock pressed against your ass.

Hours later

Laying on your stomach, Pero beneath you, you traced his scar with your fingertip. He looked as good as you imagined naked; he was delicious, and you allowed yourself to feast.

He had a map of scars from his legs up to his face, he was beautifully shaped, from his hands to his cock, to his broad shoulders and bone structure. If you could only have one man in your bed from here on out, you’d choose him.

Pero felt calmer than he had ever been, relaxed after the come down from your second round some time ago. The first was hot, rough, and fast, like wolves in heat under the full moon. The second time was less rushed and even more enjoyable.

You traveled the length of the scar, then met his gaze. "What’s this one from?”

“A time I was left for dead. The bastards tried to take my boots. I took their lives.”

You grinned, imagining him out in the field, and all his adventures.

A comfortable silence fell between you for a while, until Pero broke it.

“- quite the game we played cariño.”

“Wasn’t it,” you lay on his chest, planting a kiss on his chin, then on his lips, “but, who says it’s over?”

“Meaning?”

“I haven’t seen your sword skills yet, we must duel.”

He chuckled, shaking you both slightly as it rumbled through his chest, “Yeah?”

“Yeah, and…” you kiss him again, “there’s a whole list of fun games we could play.”

He quirked a curious brow.

“Well,” you nibbled his ear before telling him what was on your mind.

“Dios mio - “ he said with wide eyes.

“You know you like it,” you grinned, then kept going.

“I do,” he confirmed, caressing the back of your neck as the games you whispered got filthier and filthier.

God, you were speaking his language, and he wasn’t sure if you were real - well if he hadn’t just fucked you twice, which was more than worth the wait, he'd think this was magic, witches work, but you, and this, were all real.

You continued, spilling your dirty thoughts in his ear while now stroking his length with your hand.

Fuck, Pero thought, he’d keep you forever, even longer after that. You would never know another man because you were his.

Pero took hold of you, pulling you into an earth-shattering kiss before holding you against him.

“Good thing for you, I'm not going anywhere. You're mine now.”

You smiled against his chest, “I think I might not object to that.”

“Woman,” he groaned with a slight laugh,

“For you,” you looked up at him and weaved your fingers through his, “I'll make an exception.”

“Now that we’ve come to an understanding, I want food,” he sat up, pulling you with him, “then we fuck again.”

“I like the way you think.” You straddled his hips, teasing him a little before getting off. “Come on my ravenous beast, I made stew last night, and I must say, it's damn good.”

You slipped on the tunic and then made your way out of the room.

Pero slipped on his pants and followed, “as glad as I am to eat, I’m more excited about dessert.”

As you busied yourself gathering bowls, Pero watched from the doorway. As good as it felt to have you, as happy as it made him to see your reaction to the blade, he couldn't shake his sense of worry. When he said you were his, you replied with a maybe, well, not exactly, you said,

“I think I might not object to that.”

Might not

That didn’t sit right.

He was all in, dead serious about it. If you’d have him, there was no one after you. But if you were unsure -

Pero called your name, prompting you to glance over your shoulder at him with that heart-stopping smile of yours.

“Yes?”

His doubts felt stupid, with the way you’re looking at him now, the light in your eyes, that smile. Still, he needed to hear it, he needed to hear it from your lips.

Pero came over to you, you could tell his mood had shifted. With concern, you turned to him and took one of his hands in yours.

“What's wrong?”

“I mean it,” he said your name as he cupped your cheek with one hand, his eyes big, brown, and vulnerable as he stared into yours, “You’re mine.”

Your eyes softened on him even more, “lo sé.”

“Say it,” he demanded.

You slipped your other hand around his back, pulling him closer, “I’m yours, Pero.” you leaned in, brushing the tip of your nose to his, then nibbling his bottom lips. “and you are mines.”

The grunt that left him at your words was primal, like a wolf claiming his mate, and before you could say anything else his lips were on yours. That was all he needed, this was home now, you were his home, and he wasn’t going anywhere.

“What about dinner?” you giggled as he kissed the length of your neck and bunched the tunic over your hips.

“That can wait, I need you, now,” he growled, walking you backward to the table.

“Wow, I thought food was your first love,” you teased as you took his hardening length into your hands,

“It is, but now it has competition with you, mi amor.”

You smiled as he moved between your legs, “say it again.”

“Mi amor.” he threw the tunic across the room and quickly covered your breasts with his mouth,

You ran your fingers through his chocolate waves with one hand, guiding his cock inside of you with the other. You moaned together as he filled you,

“I love you too Pero,” you purred.

You closed your eyes, pleasure pulsing through your bodies as you moved your hips together. Thanking the stars and sky above for their gift to you; the very thing you didn't know you wanted in the form of a grumpy mercenary who stole your heart and set your soul on fire.

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More Pedro characters | More Pero

This was a special occasion, so I cross posted. Usually I just put previews on tumblr, all my other work goes to A03. You will need an account to view my archive. Lots of my older stuff 2019 - 2022, for now, is still on my master list here too.

Follow: (fic updates) @artemiseamoon-updates

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#Pero Tovar #pedrostoriesgift23 #pedrostories #Pero Tovar (The Great Wall)#pero tovar fanfiction #Pero Tovar x f reader #Pero tovar x curvy f reader #blacksmith Pero Tovar #by artemiseamoon #Arte Moodboards #fic: what the heart wants #blacksmith au #blacksmith f reader

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polvitolunar · 1 year ago

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Cindy Kimberly x En Route Jewelry

#explore #photoshoot #today on tumblr #cindy kimberly #jewelry #model #art #fashion model #fashion #my posts

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nenan · 1 year ago

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Cannelle Ferragu for her jewerly collection with En Route Jewelry

#cannelle ferragu #canfrgu #cinna doll #en route collection #enroutejewerly_

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dcbbw · 1 year ago

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Commoner, Part 2--Secret

Part 2 of Commoner! Part 1 can be found here. We’re picking up where we left off (Leo left, Sav is pregnant, and no one knows)

This story was born of a long-standing head canon (Sav would crush on the older brother, not her brother’s best friend), and the song inspiration (original version, but used the sad and acoustic version for this fic); lyrics are also taken from the song inspo.

IF you read this, THANK YOU! Your likes, comments, and/or reblogs are appreciated more than you realize. Please excuse any and all typos, missing/extraneous words, and/or grammatical errors. MS Editor rates this story as 99% error-free.

To all those who read over this story in its various variations and renditions, THANK YOU! Your feedback, ideas, and encouragement was invaluable (as always).

Thanks to @choicesflashfics for their Week 62 prompt #2, which will appear in bold.

Song Inspo: Strangers (sad and acoustic version), Kenya Grace

Pairing(s): Savannah Walker x Leo Rys; Savannah Walker x Bertrand Beaumont

Word Count: 2,201

Rating: M for Mature themes

I sit in the back of the sleek, black Mercedes that is Duchy Ramsford’s official vehicle with the Brothers Beaumont, en route to the Palace. King Constantine has requested a meeting of the Great Houses.

And me.

I vacillate between relief that he will put those awful rumors to rest, and fear that Leo will be there with that woman.

“You appear to be deep in thought,” Bertrand observes. “Are you feeling well?”

I plaster a quick smile onto my lips. “Merely curious why the King would want me to be present at this meeting.”

The Duke gives me a solicitous nod, and I again wonder why he’s been so nice to me since our breakfast encounter. It’s not that Bertrand is a bad guy; he has taught me a lot during my month at House Beaumont. I know more than I ever wanted to about utensils, glassware, table etiquette, and bloodlines and lineage. I now know that the reason I don’t have the title of Lady, the most ubiquitous yet ambiguous title a woman can hold, is because I don’t belong to a House.

I’m commoner.

But he isn’t a nice guy either, so the attention is a bit … odd.

“I wonder if it has anything to do with Leo, and all the news stories?” Max pipes up. “Although I suppose if Bastien is at the Palace and Leo isn’t, that may be all the confirmation we need.”

Bertrand looks out the window. “We’re here,” he announces.

I swear I feel my baby flip inside my stomach, which is stupid. I’m only eight weeks along.

As we walk up the front staircase, I don’t feel a sense of homecoming. I only feel dread. My throat closes when Bastien opens the door and leads us to the formal living room where the other guests are gathered. Groups are huddled close together; there are murmurs of conversations I cannot hear. I hug my brother and struggle through a curtsy meant to encompass the entire room. No one acknowledges me other than Kiara, who gives me a huge grin and enthusiastic hug.

And I wonder why I feel the need to be a part of this world, to be accepted by the very people who never will.

That it'll never change And it will just stay like this

I catch a glimpse of Madeleine, who is stone-faced; only the paleness of her skin and the clenching of her jaw signals anger, embarrassment, and hurt. I look down at her hands; her fingers are bare of jewelry.

Leo has left both of us.

The King clears his throat, and we all turn towards the front of the room. He is flanked by Queen Regina and Liam; all of them are wearing stoic expressions and I know … in my brain, my heart, my very soul … Leo has run off and fulfilled promises he could never make to me to another woman. I’m a single, teenaged mother with absolutely nothing to my name; I can’t even leverage the child growing inside of me.

There is a buzzing in my ears that drowns out the words my monarch is uttering until he states that Liam will ascend to the throne. There is to be a social season, and I will be the House Beaumont sponsee. The Crown will fund my sponsorship as I was still their ward and had no properties of my own. Drake’s face darkens, Bertrand beams proudly, and Max jumps up and down in excitement.

There’s something about Bertrand’s smile … he isn’t surprised to hear this news. Did he already know what to expect? Was Leo the phone call that morning?

I throw up on the priceless carpet and my hand-me-down shoes.

Three weeks pass, weeks where I scour newspapers, magazines, and the internet for news of my baby’s father. There is a plethora of media, mostly photos of him in motocross tournaments: smiling happily in the Mojave Desert, frowning in concentration as he inspects his vehicle in UAE, sunning on a beach in Greece. The woman is not in the pictures, and rarely mentioned in the articles.

Now she can be his dirty little secret.

And when we spoke for months Well, did you ever mean it? How can we say that this is love When it goes like this?

Meanwhile, in Cordonia, my hips are spreading; my breasts are getting fuller, and my belly is only slightly rounded. Bertrand has ramped up my training but takes care to give me breaks throughout the day and we are now spending our meals together without Maxwell. He shares stories of his education, his time as a fashion designer, and memories of his childhood.

He walks me to my room every evening; occasionally he holds my hand.

I am not in love with Bertrand, but I find myself enjoying his company more and more.

But every time I meet somebody new It's like déjà vu I swear they sound the same It's like they know my skin

We’re sitting in Bertrand’s study one night; he is poring over documents related to Liam’s cabinet. Bertrand and Rashad Domvallier are to be financial and legal advisors to the new future King. I watch him nervously. I’ve decided that tonight is the time to tell him I cannot be the House’s sponsee. It isn’t fair to not tell him; he’ll need time to find someone new and school them in the ways of nobility.

My fingernails pluck nervously at my robe. I could very well be homeless in the next 15 minutes. Bertrand takes his duties as Duke seriously and is extremely rigid when it came to appearances and reputation; an unwed, pregnant commoner could not reside under the roof of House Beaumont. However, returning to the Palace would be a disaster between King Constantine and Big Brother Drake.

But it has to be done. This baby is going to make itself known sooner than later.

He drains his third glass of cognac before sighing heavily and pushing himself away from his desk. With an unsteady gait, he crosses the room to join me on the sofa. He looks almost regal in his gold silk robe with black piping, and black pajama bottoms. He sits so closely, I smell his cologne; it’s Hermès.

Leo always wore Armani.

“Savannah, I’d like to have a … conversation of a different sort with you.” His breath smells of liquor and his words are slightly slurred.

“Isn’t that funny?” I reply in a squeaky voice. “I wanted to have one with you also.”

He pulls one of my hands into his as he begins to speak. “You need to know that while you may be participating in the social season, you won’t win the hand of the Crown Prince. The position requires someone of lineage, with a knowledge of world politics and has a pulse on the fluctuating nature of both Court and Crown. However, the Engagement Tour should afford you an opportunity to marry into a minor house.”

I stare at him dumbfounded. Drunk Bertrand pisses me off.

“However, I do find myself being very attracted to you. I propose an offer that should be beneficial to both of us. I’d like you to be my mistress until we both find persons worthy of our status and station. You would become an honorary member of House Beaumont to assure you have a title, and I can be a very generous lover in more ways than one.”

He drops my hand and rises from the couch on his second attempt. He goes to a coat closet, opens the door, and retrieves a package. The box is emblazoned with Hermès’ name and logo. He brings it back to me, carefully placing it in my lap.

“Open it,” he urges.

I do so to find a limited-edition white matte satchel, made of leather and silk. The tag is still attached: $200,000 USD. I look up at him, knowing that he wants me to know how much it costs.

“Your … mistress?” I ask as my body feels as if it’s going numb.

And it will just stay like this Never really dating, breaking up

“This world is cruel. I’m just playing by its rules. It would behoove you to do so as well. You can’t be anything else to me or anyone of stature. You’re a commoner with the most basic of public education. You are ignorant in the ways of Court, the circles you would need to travel in. I am happy to give you the benefit of my knowledge, but at the end of the day, I am a Duke. Dukes don’t marry commoners.”

He says it all as if he is telling me the sun will rise in the east. Bertrand means no harm; nobles never do. Or so they claim.

Every word they say sounds just like him

My eyes fall back to the price tag, realizing I have my way out. I can keep my secret, and everyone’s precious reputation is intact.

“It’s late, Your Grace and you have given me a lot to process. I’ll have an answer for you in due time.”

He gives me a small smile. “May I … may I kiss you?”

A small shake of my head. “No,” I reply in an almost-rueful tone.

I know my place.

His smile falters, and he nods slowly. “My apologies. That was presumptuous of me.”

I mentally shake my head. THAT is what he considered to be the most horrible thing about his proposition? I box the purse again, and stand.

“I’ll see you at breakfast.”

Three months later, I am standing on the balcony of my small pied-a-terre located in a quaint, quiet Parisian neighborhood, watching the day come to an end. The sun is still bright in the sky, but evening is fast approaching. My fingers comb through my dark, thick tresses before pulling a toffee-colored cardigan tighter across my expanding body.

It’s springtime and I think again how leaving Cordonia to settle here was the best move. Paris had always been my dream destination: red lipsticks, rich wines, decadent perfumes, trendy runway fashions.

The baby and I have even learned to enjoy the food.

My eyes take in the Palais Garnier, also known as the Paris Opera House, not that far in the distance before falling to the cobblestoned streets below: restaurant and café doors open, unleashing aromas of grilled meat and sauteed onions as bakeries pull window shades down. Women with chic hats and impossibly high heels exit dress stores, shopping bags bunched in fisted hands. Street vendors begin putting away their wares.

My stomach rumbles, and I head inside. There had been a late breakfast/early lunch a few hours ago, but the fruit, yogurt, and cheese and spinach omelet have all but disappeared now. My child has a healthy appetite. I walk around a black wrought iron table with matching chairs, pausing to fluff oversized chair cushions decorated with huge sunflowers.

I push the terrace door shut behind me before going into the kitchen. I had taken a chicken out earlier, but I no longer have an appetite for it. Instead, I want pistou pasta with grilled duck and extra mushrooms from my favorite bistro.

But money is tight. Despite having a job and being frugal with the savings leftover from the sale of the purse Bertrand gifted me, I need to be mindful of rent, food, doctor’s appointments once the child gets here and I will be on unpaid leave.

I’m having a boy that I will name Barthelemy, Bartie for short. It’s my way of paying homage to Maxwell for being such an incredible and caring friend during all of this. He doesn’t know who the father is and has never pressured me to tell him. He sends money and has offered to make an honest woman of me.

All of this even though I left House Beaumont without a sponsee, and they now either have to find one that they will have to fully sponsor or withdraw.

A knock at the door captures my attention; I stare at it with a frown. I don’t have many friends in Paris; Maxwell is due for his monthly visit next week. He’s bringing Drake and Kiara with him. They were the only two I instructed Maxwell to tell of my whereabouts. Drake and I aren’t close, but we are all we have left as far as family. He deserved to know. Kiara’s my best girlfriend, and she speaks French. Win-win.

I would like to see Liam, but he has much to learn and do before the social season begins in less than 12 weeks.

I slowly and laboriously cross the small distance between the kitchen and the front door; my eye widens as I peer through the peephole.

Leo.

He looks even more handsome if that’s possible. He carries a bouquet of flowers in one hand as he looks around the hallway. I quietly and cautiously back away from the door as tears prick the corners of my eyes.

And then one random night When everything changes You won't reply And we'll go back to strangers

Tagging: @jared2612 @ao719 @marietrinmimi @indiacater @kingliam2019 @bebepac @liamxs-world @mom2000aggie @liamrhysstalker2020 @twinkleallnight @umccall71 @superharriet@busywoman @gabesmommie1130 @tessa-liam @beezm @gardeningourmet @lovingchoices14 @mainstreetreader @angelasscribbles @lady-calypso @emkay512 @princessleac1 @charlotteg234 @alj4890 @motorcitymademadame @queenmiarys @choicesficwriterscreations

#dcbbw writes #part 2/2 #savannah walker #bertrand beaumont #leo rys #writer on tumblr

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panwati · 1 year ago

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you were the sunshine of my lifetime

@thiefguild

It's all kinds of freezing out, which wouldn't be a problem (just an annoyance, but complaining don't much help in the long run) if it weren't for the fact that she'd shown up dressed for mid-summer. Clothes are the first order of business, then food, then... whatever else she needs to do. Find a job, maybe? Probably. But clothes are definitely first, because no way she's going to be able to get anything else done if she's frozen to death.

Which is how she finds herself in the clothing section of a store, rifling through thermals and scrunching her nose at the color selection, when she spots The Blond. Said blond is perusing a nearby counter covered in jewelry, and wows the salesperson that comes to 'help' him with... something. She's not sure, she can't really hear- but she can see that while he's gesturing with one hand, he's subtly pocketing things with the other. When he finally pushes away with a jaunty wave, she's sure he's snagged at least seven different things. Partway done with her shopping, she debates on what to do, morality warring with how out of sorts she is in her given situation.

In the end though, it's not morality that wins out, it's the desire to help people.

Now, let it not be said that Amrita's all that keen on capitalism. But she's definitely not keen on the cops, which might be en-route given that The Blond doesn't seem to consider the concept of security cameras. And really, jewelry is such a questionable industry that it's not something she wants to see someone get hauled off for taking advantage of. So, thermal leggings slung over her arm, she strides over decisively, scuffing her boots a bit to give some indication she's coming up behind him. He turns when she taps on his shoulder, and a problem occurs- that is, he's very, very pretty and she's very, very distracted because he seems familiar but she'd definitely remember a face like that.

Especially the eye patch.

Fortunately, her brain's temporary short-circuit doesn't last long, and she leans forward, bringing a hand up beside her cheek to hide her lips just in case.

"Y' might wanna empty your pockets 'fore they call security, hon. Pretty sure there's at least three cameras in th' jewelry section, so someone's prolly spotted ya." Shifting the clothes in her arm, she points to said cameras- the ones she can see, at least- with a single, dark-nailed finger.

"Dunno how big they are on th' cops 'round here, but I'd hate t' see ya get in trouble over stuff that's prolly only even gold-plated."

#thiefguild #( wife time wife time wife time-)

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paperbag1999 · 7 months ago

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would not recommend en route jewelry but these earrings are cute

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locketharted · 1 year ago

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thank you for tagging me ! ໒꒰ྀི♡˵ᴗ͈ . ᴗ͈ ꒱ྀི১ @enashinonome 💭

ෆ last song you heard: sting - stellar

ෆ fav color: pink forever 🎀🫶🏻 i really adore cherry red too and pretty pastels

ෆ what series you watched last: i’ve been watching mlp recently…

ෆ spicy/sweet/savory: hmmmm i like all but i prefer sweets :3

ෆ relationship status: single and wishing i had a masc gf rn

ෆ last thing i googled: en route jewelry

ෆ current obsession: mlp !! i never really watched it in my childhood, so i decided to give it a try in adulthood. i honestly love it so much like who doesnt love the magic of friendship ? i’m so rarity and fluttershy coded <3

ෆ last thing i read: home field advantage by dahlia adler i think ? i’m a sucker for cheesy novels like that

ෆ something i’m looking forward too: playing games with friends tonight

i never know who to tag for these other than @gogumagirl so if anyone wants to do this please do !! ^_^

#doll �� diary

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peace-and-light-poetry · 9 months ago

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Auntie Moon

"Tsuki." The little one dubs me "Tsuki" and nothing else. She couldn't really enunciate my name, nor could she say "Auntie" but I think that's well and good. I figured she made the connection betwixt myself and the moon because she saw me at night. That, I think, is a given because I'm used to either staying up at night or getting up in the middle of the night. Well, she saw me when I went to check on her. I think it didn't take too much for me to realize, later, that the little one was nearsighted, so, perhaps, to her, the moon and I looked very much the same.

As for the little one's name, her name is "Aiko" but she doesn't call herself that. No, when her mother called her by that name, she spat and said, emphatically, "NO! I is 'Yuzu', no Akko!" I don't know why she calls herself that, then again, Ryuuko, for most of her pregnancy, had a particular craving for yuzu. Yes, she had yuzu fruit with the peel on it, then again, Ryuuko has been quite strange with her eating of lemons with the peels on them. During her pregnancy, she was more "mellowed" but, otherwise, she was the same. Yuzu, from what I could say, is very much a spitfire like her mother and she demonstrated that in that moment when she asserted herself as "Yuzu", not "Aiko".

Yuzu came into this world on November 1st , en-route to a hospital, after her mother's rather quick labor. She weighed about 6-7 pounds and, from what I could tell, she was rather robust. She strongly resembles her mother, though her streak is more like a silvery-white, instead of red and her hair being a bit wavier. She was rather little, despite her weight. Oh, and she had one natal tooth, a canine.

She was a "surprise", in more ways than one. About a few months before, Ryuuko announced her pregnancy and that took us by surprise but I think Ryuuko was more surprised than the rest of us, considering that she had only found out just prior to telling us. Of course, we were curious and, interestingly, on the subject of paternity, Ryuuko was evasive, telling us, "I don't know and, frankly, I really don't care!" However, the only thing she could say, concretely, is that she conceived Yuzu in a bar. I have my suspicions on that but I didn't push, especially, since, to Ryuuko, Yuzu is more important than how she was conceived, much less the paternity.

I suppose that's enough backstory, as, with my niece's presence in my life, I have some things that I've learned.

With my niece, I've learned patience, or, rather, I've learned how much patience I truly can have. Somehow, one night, a night where Ryuuko was dead tired, Yuzu managed to get out of bed and come into my room. Ordinarily, I'd be annoyed at being awakened during my sleeping hours, whether I'm used to being up so late or early, but I found that annoyance being melted away, when I heard her voice. In a few words, she said, "Tsuki, om'ette." I wondered, if for a moment, she was hungry or just sleepy, but, regardless, I found myself getting up, taking her in my arms, and going downstairs to the kitchen. Before this, I mused, your mother used to wake me up for omelets. I would find myself amused that she'd be sleepy after eating said omelet, so, perhaps, it was both.

I've learned how curious my niece is. That, clearly, is a trait she's inherited from her mother. I suppose, curiosity a given, considering her myopia, and so she has to investigate what things are. If she wants very much to know something, she'd flip over a rock, flowerpot, or grab at something to feel it and it isn't so much that she can't ask what it is. She can but she hasn't the words nor the articulation to do that very well, being two-years old. Certainly, we had to get used to this, especially since she refused to wear her glasses. At some point, Ryuuko concluded, "Maybe Yuzu thinks the world is more interestin' that way?"

Myopia be damned, as I did notice, Yuzu was drawn to things that sparkled. Jewelry is something the piques her curiosity the most, perhaps more, because, she has to closely inspect jewelry. She doesn't have to know what jewelry is or what the idea is for but jewelry is sparkly and she's drawn to sparkly things. So far, she's figured out that jewelry doesn't taste good and so doesn't try to eat it.

Tying into this, a common thing in the house that piques her curiosity is my jewelry box, well, one of them. I have two jewelry boxes and Yuzu goes for the one with costume jewelry but she can't tell the difference either way. So far, she's figured out what bracelets are for, rather, how to wear them, but, mostly, she's very intrigued and spends a bit of time playing with them.

If it's not bracelets, it's butterflies and I think she's more curious about those because she can't see them very well. She knows that they flutter but not what they look like so much. So far, she’s only observed them closely, once, and that was when she was a year and a half old, in her mother’s arms. Perhaps, she doesn’t quite know that the fluttering blurs and the butterflies up close are the same creature.

I've learned her stubbornness, rather, how infectious it is. Before, I had to "outstubborn" Ryuuko and my sister is quite stubborn, stubborn enough as to where one may as well give into her demands or, otherwise, act like one does not care. Outstubborning Ryuuko can be done but her daughter is a different story because Yuzu doesn't know what being "stubborn" is, regardless, she defiantly asserts her will. When Nonon referred to her by her birth name, Yuzu decided to, as Ryuuko would call it, "puff up". Promptly, Yuzu told her, "NO! I is Yuzu!" and Nonon decided to argue, to which, I, rather surprisingly, agreed with Yuzu.

"Nonon, she calls herself 'Yuzu'. You should know by now."

"Matoi named her 'Aiko', Satsuki-chan, so I'm going to call her that."

"No, you're going to call her Yuzu. She calls herself that and you will call her Yuzu."

"Satsuki—"

"NO!"

It turned into a three-way staring match but, mostly, I think Yuzu was more confident, as her glare made Nonon concede, "Fine, she's Yuzu." Frankly, I wondered if I agreed with her because I knew it would be pointless to argue or if I just found it amusing. Thinking about it, she wasn't much "stubborn", just defiant, though, I think those two things were combined. She refuses to be called anything but "Yuzu", clearly, but she'd make it a point to not answer to "Aiko".

As far as outstubborning her goes, I've learned that, if I make it seem like I'm agreeing, she's more apt to do the opposite.

"No!"

"Well, if you don't want to wear your shoes, that's fine, don't wear them."

"Mmm!"

Yes, I think it has to be defiance. Tell her to do something, she'll do the opposite.

Through my niece, I realized how gentle I could be. I knew I was capable of gentleness but I never knew exactly how gentle. I've noticed this most prominently when I held her when she was infant and I was terrified of hurting her but those fears lessened when I saw how at ease she was in my arms. Before that, she was never away from her mother but Ryuuko needed to rest, so she offered for me to hold Yuzu. I think, in retrospect, I was more astonished at how at ease the baby was in my arms.

I further realized my gentleness when she startled me from my sleep. That action, if it had been anyone else, would earn a hard slap with the back of my hand but, with Yuzu, it didn't. I was startled, yes, but I didn't send her flying. No, I found myself reaching for her in the dim room, feeling her little fingers grab at mine, as she asked, "Tsuki?" I think, in learning this, I've come to mellow and not send anyone flying (again), in the off chance it's my niece waking me up.

Another thing, I've learned is that I can make more exceptions. See, in learning this, I realized that Yuzu's love language is touch. I don't really care for being touched but I think of Yuzu being an exception to that rule. Being myopic, I figured this would be a given as she continues to live without glasses but I found out there was more to it.

In doing some exercise, I was doing some stretches and Yuzu seemed to mimic my movements, but she placed her hands on my mine, going "Tsuki!". Initially, I wondered if that's what she thought she was supposed to do but it became clear that she was displaying affection by holding my hands. Somehow, I found myself reciprocating her gesture by lightly gripping her hands in response. After that, idly, she took my hand in hers, walking with me for a bit.

After that, her little gestures were indirect. She'd either reach out to touch my hand, my back, or my shoulder, sometimes, gripping at my clothes if need-be. She wouldn't ask to be held, no, and she didn't seem aware that I'd oblige her but little bits of touch like that were her love language expressed.

One night, after dinner, Ryuuko placed her hand on my shoulder, saying, "Goodnight, Sis, I love you." before making an observation, as Ryuuko did the same with Yuzu as she led her to her bed, when something clicked. Being very much her mother's daughter, Yuzu mimicked her mother, reciprocating and replicating the actions Ryuuko would do, though the latter would pick her up and hold her. Of course, Yuzu's too little and light to pick up anyone, so she shows affection in a way that she can, but she's adjusted her gestures of affection specifically to me.

At times, I look at my niece and then the realization of how monstrous Ragyo was sinks in. Five is not too much older than two and I think, How could anyone hurt you? I think, through Yuzu, I have more motivations for my social work studies. I didn't have a childhood, no, but I don't envy Yuzu or my sister for theirs. However, I am quite privy to how cruel some parents truly could be and, so, as I pursue my studies, I opt to turn my pain into protection. I suppose I've learned that I have a maternal instinct, though, I don't have children, and that instinct extended to my niece. I don't know how I'd be as a mother, no, but I do know that I'd likely be better mother than Ragyo.

Related to this, I think, through Yuzu, I've realized is that I didn't know I wanted a child or two. However, I don't think I can have them at all, considering the gynecological woes I deal with. Pain be damned, I did make peace with them. Ryuuko, from what I can tell, isn't aware of said woes and I never told her, but, in a way, be it indirectly, I do have a child. “She really loves you, Sis.” Ryuuko told me, over tea, as Yuzu seized one of my hands. I did notice what Ryuuko said because that’s very obvious, but I was more fixated on what Yuzu was telling me about her day.

I’ve learned, as well, that I’m full of love. I've loved Yuzu when Ryuuko first told me she was expecting, but I think I really loved her when I saw her. There was love, the beginnings of a connection. Said connection was further cemented when I held her in my arms for the first time. Thinking of it, I think her birthname, the name she refuses to be called, "Aiko" is very fitting, as she's very loved but, in turn, she gives love, too.

#one-shot fanfic #kill la kill #post-canon #slice of life #musings #written on the fly #fanfiction #fanfic writing

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