#is doing so because they want to avoid spoilers

[crushedsweets]

CREEPED VISUAL NOVEL Link, tutorial, extra art, Q&A, some chatter

The CREEPED Prologue is completely free and browser-ready. Gameplay is about 10 minutes. Please read the "tutorial" and notes before playing!

Follow Y/N and their dog, Max, through their grandparents' farm and a mysterious forest filled with...less than fortunate people!

PLAY HERE; works best on PC

This visual novel is powered by GOOGLE SLIDES! It has 0 programming and was created by one person in a little over a month, so please bear with any "bugs" and clunkiness!

TUTORIAL

>Click using mouse/trackpad >Go slowly to not break game >Do not use arrow or space keys

EXTRA NOTES:

>Works best on PC/Browser, I haven't tested the full game on mobile yet >In general, clicking the PNGs on the textbox (Apple, Teddy Bear, Hatchet, etc) will lead you to the right page >If you land on a page that tells you to "go back," that's when you should click the back-arrow key. If your cursor disappears, it doesn't register the click correctly >I recommend moving your cursor periodically to avoid it disappearing and sending you to the wrong page

EXTRA ART

some WIPS and the original sprite-style i was gonna choose LOOOOOOOL

Q&A

Q: Is this an x reader? A: This is a reader-insert, but it's not romantic and I try to keep it as neutral and unidentifiable as possible! Q: What's the plot? A: GENERALLY AND WITHOUT SPOILERS, your dog gets you into trouble and you're just looking to help him!

Q: Who is in the prologue? A: Tim, Brian, Toby, and Kate! More will be added in future chapters.

Q: When will future chapters be posted? A: Not sure! This took me about a month to do, and half was spent over winter break. I will try to get chapter 1 posted before summer, but I am a full-time student, employed, have extracurriculars, etc etc

ok thats all i only remember 4 questions feel free to ask more LMAO

CHATTER(because you know i can talk forever)

ok i just wanted to be able to talk about how the process was with this and how i feel about the results and whatnot...

ive been wanting to make a google slides visual novel since i was like 13 LOL it hit the point where i was repeatedly told i should just learn to code but i was like NOOOOO ITS GOTTA BE GOOGLE SLIDESSSS which is totally stupid but hey. i think that gives it some sort of simple charm that reminds me of being 16 and doing little projects in my room LOL i like working with the easiest tools . my bad

anyway. im just very happy LOL. it's not perfect but i feel like i came full circle in a sense?!?! i've been into creepypasta since i was 9 and it comforted me when things were really hard, and when i was 18 i was going through a really hard time and got back into creepypasta as a way to distract myself. i've always had a habit of throwing myself into fiction for escapism when things suuucked.

i'm 20 now but i've met SO many amazing people, had so many fun awesome exciting projects with friends, created tons of stuff im proud of, felt more motivated to create since i was like 13, have been inspired by so many amazing artists/authors on here, etc. just so so so lucky to find community in such a tight-knit cute fandom that thrives off of creativity and playing around! i hope i can keep the momentum and make a couple more chapters this year, but im kinda busy with school and work...LOL . i'm just excited to have this posted so i can have more discussion about it T_T

anyway thank you if you read this far and thank you if you played etc etc yaahhhhhh omg ok BYE THIS IS SO EMBARRASSING im just so grateful to be in this fandom

[oneofstarkskids]

girl back home

pairings: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 1822 (new record?? 🤭)

genre: a lil bit of everything, but mostly fluff. you know.

warnings: MAJOR SPOILERS FOR CAPTAIN AMERICA: BRAVE NEW WORLD ‼️

It was already February, and you were long overdue for some sunshine. The snow is always beautiful, especially with twinkling lights reflecting off of it. But those lights are gone now, and all you're left with is this chill to your bones.

You cling tightly to Bucky's arm, watching your steps carefully. "You okay?" He asks with a pink nose.

You can't speak without your jaw shaking violently, so you simply nod.

"I told ya' you should've brought gloves," he says with a know-it-all essence. The low temperatures must've been slowly freezing your brain cells because you didn't even make a snide remark.

The two of you finally reach your apartment building and make your way up to your floor. As soon as you're in the door, he takes your coat for you. "And you wanted ice cream," he snickers before hanging the coats and starting on a pot of coffee.

"I'll admit, I've had better ideas," you say before hurrying over to the messy pile of blankets on the couch, desperate for warmth.

After a few moments behind the counter, he walks over carrying your favorite mug. The one with the little yellow duck on it.

"Here ya' go, doll."

You give him a grateful peck on the cheek and grab the mug, careful not to burn yourself.

He moves to scooch in close to you, but his phone rings right on que. He sighs before pulling it out of his back pocket, "Hello?"

There's a pause and Bucky's face falls. "Not really a good time," he says with annoyance.

After a much longer pause, he nods as if the person on the other end can see him. "Alright, I'll be there."

He takes the phone away from his ear and hangs up. You give him that look.

"They're calling me into Washington. They want to have another meeting about the whole congress thing." Bucky trails off.

You nod, "Well, when do you leave?"

"Tonight."

The word hangs in the air for a moment as both of you contemplate the next move.

"And when are you supposed to be back?" You asked.

Bucky gave you an apologetic smile, "Valentine's Day."

You tried not to overreact. This was his job. It was important to him, and you wanted to be supportive. Besides, it wasn't like Valentine's Day was any more special than the other days when you got to spend your entire life with the man you loved.

"That's okay! We can work with that, we'll just celebrate later that night. Dinner, maybe?" You tried to be optimistic.

Bucky's demeanor changed, "You know, that's what I love about you?" He set his mug down on the coffee table and leaned over you.

"Oh, really?" You asked with the biggest grin.

"Mhm," he placed a soft kiss on your jawline.

You bit your lip to keep from grinning, "What else do you love about me?"

And Bucky did leave that night, with a dazed look and smirk on his lips. If that was how you said goodbye, he couldn't wait to see how you welcomed him back.

He kept in touch with you the entire time he was in Washington. Phone calls, FaceTime, endless texting. It was only for a couple days, but he never wanted to go a minute without hearing your voice.

But the plane ride there. It was hell. Not being able to see your eyes light up. Not being able to kiss those perfect lips. The guilt of leaving you behind began to weigh him down. Another fight he couldn't avoid.

The only moment he got a break from his self loathing was when he visited Sam. "Hey, buddy." The two patted each other on the backs.

"Got a knack for getting yourself in trouble don't you, Sam?" Bucky teased.

Sam raised an eyebrow, "If I recall, a lot of the trouble I've gotten into has been on your behalf."

Bucky laughed and nodded his head as if to say "touché".

"How's the girl," Sam asks, his smile reflecting his fondness for you.

Your beautiful boy just grins from ear to ear, "She's great. She's always great."

"Would you look at that," Sam says. "The man who never smiles just can't seem to stop."

Bucky shakes his head, still the flicker of a smile on his face, "She makes me...a better man."

Sam looks down at the ground. Grappling with his thoughts.

Bucky notices and turns to him.

"None of this," he gestures to Joaquin in the hospital bed, struggling to maintain stability, "is your fault."

"I don't know, Buck. I'm not cut out for this," Sam said. It wasn't something Bucky hadn't heard before. He knew his friend had always dealt with feeling unworthy of Steve's title.

"This shield was made for you, just as much as it was made for Steve. He wouldn't have given it to you if he didn't believe that himself," Bucky reassured him.

Sam let it sink in for a minute before cocking his head towards Bucky, "Damn. We're doing pep talks now?"

Bucky let out a laugh that was partially a scoff. He couldn't catch a break. "I meant it, Samuel. This was my last day here, and I had to make sure you knew that before I left."

Sam nodded, "Thank you, Bucky."

"I love you, Buddy." The blue eyed man said back.

"Now, I've got a plane to catch and a girl back home to surprise," He said with a skip to his step.

Sam watched him leave before muttering under his breath, "Damn soldier's gone soft."

The airport was packed with people. Long lines wrapped through the hallways. Bucky tried to push his way through. Tried to get an answer.

"What's going on?"

A stranger turned around, "They're delaying all the flights. Something about a security issue nearby."

Bucky found a group of people crowded around a television and squeezed in to get a better view. "President Ross reportedly transformed into what people are already calling 'Red Hulk' after massive White House meltdown." Footage flashed across the screen of what was indeed a cherry tomato colored Hulk surrounded by a burning white house.

The growl that erupted from the beast vibrated the speakers. Bucky's shoulders dropped in disappointment as he picked up the phone to call you.

You answered almost instantly, "Buck?" Your voice was weak with worry and it sounded like you were already expecting bad news.

"The flights are delayed, doll. Turn on the news," Bucky said.

"I've seen it," You replied softly.

"I don't know how long-" Bucky started but you cut him off. "Hey, don't worry about that. Just, get home safely. Please."

Bucky swallowed, "I will."

"I love you, James."

"I-" The line went dead. He quickly checked the phone to see what had happened. NO SERVICE.

Bucky was desperate to find a way back to you.

Meanwhile, Sam was getting his ass kicked by a giant blood clot. "Ross, listen to me. You know this place. You used to go here all the time with, Betty."

The creature that was once the president growled in his face.

"Alright, that didn't work."

Sam dove behind a car, narrowly avoiding another blow from the hell hulk. "You don't want to talk it out. Fine by me," Sam rolled away from the car just as the hulk smashed the gas tank.

The explosive vehicle flew towards the now Captain America, and with his improved vibranium wings from the Wakandan's he was able to slice the car in half.

His victory was short lived as the hulk grabbed him by the wing and ripped it off. Sam fell to his knees, feeling like he'd lost the war. At that moment, a spray of bullets bounced off of the angry monster's back. It turned around, focusing it's deep red eyes on the all too familiar Winter Soldier.

Sam was now an afterthought as the Red Hulk raced towards Bucky. The soldiers vibranium fist made a loud clank as it collided with the much larger one.

The high pitched whip of metal rang through the air and Sam's shield dug into the President's back. Bucky smiled like a proud father.

Together, Sam and Bucky were able to keep the hulk away from civilians and wear him out until backup arrived. But it was the memory of his daughter and the drive to be a better man that transformed his outer appearance as well.

Bucky was slouched against a police car as paramedics carried the President away. "What happened to the girl back home thing?" Sam walked over to him.

"Couldn't catch my flight. Besides, I figured you needed me more." Bucky said.

"Stop tryna butter me up," Sam shook his head. "I'll get you on a private jet, but you owe me."

Bucky extended his fist, starting off their handshake. "Take care, pal."

Sam finished it off, "Same time next week?"

You were curled up on the couch, exactly where Bucky had left you. It was Valentine's Day, and your husband was off to God knows where probably risking his life.

And the only thing you could do about it was sit here and wait. With a box of chocolates. And a few Ryan Gosling movies.

Then, you heard the rattling of a key in the door. It was so unexpected that you almost considered it had just been people that came to take you away.

Bucky pushed the door open, dropping his heavy duffel bags and extending his arms to you. You quickly jumped up, chocolates flying, and ran over to him.

The contrast between being out in the cold and now being in your warm embrace was a shock to Bucky's system.

He smelled like ash and sweat, but underneath that he smelled like him.

"I thought-" Your eyes involuntarily began to tear up.

He cupped your face in his hands and looked into your eyes with an intensity that made you blush, "I couldn't leave my best girl alone on Valentine's Day."

Your heart skipped a few beats and your face was permanently carved into a smile.

"Oh, almost forgot." He reaches into his pocket.

When he held out the palm of his hand, a silver chain with the letter B dangling from the end of it replaced the empty space.

"Bucky," you said, wiping away more tears to no avail. It was so much more than jewelry to you. It was proof that time after time, Bucky would find a way. That you were his priority and that would never change.

"It's beautiful."

He unclasped the necklace before gently turning you around to put it on you. "For the most beautiful girl," he said when he was done.

You turned around and kissed him, combing your hands through his hair. He looked into your eyes, feeling overwhelmed with joy.

"I've got something for you too," you smirked.

"You do?" He asked knowingly, kicking the door closed behind him.

"Mhm," you pulled him closer by his shirt. You were going to do more than just tell him how much you missed him.

[allypines]

crazy that the first thing either of us post about KoaC is a ship chart lmaoo

i'm so sorry fellswaps and swapfells but i needed room for the others

explanations (yapping) vv

first off, KoaC is predominately about a victorious!geno who enters the multiverse after erasing his timeline. The development of his relationship with Nightmare (among others) is the driving force behind the plot, and therefore it would be heavy spoilers to describe it now.

Nightmare is a badmare-leaning bitchmare, but is still only Nightmare. The human soul/essence was removed almost immediately.

Killer, Murder ("Dust"), Horror, and Cross are all under Nightmare's control. Needless to say, they hate him. They only kind of hate each other though. Killer's general nature and his position as Nightmare's favorite create a bit of distance between him and the others, but there's a trauma-bonded, coping mechanism, fucked up solidarity between them.

Despite never actually being together, Nightmare and Error act like toxic, bitter exes. Killer was the only subordinate around when Nightmare's arrogance blew up in his face, and he very, very quietly enjoyed the vengeance Error dealt to Nightmare. That's all I'll say about that for the time being lol.

Nightmare is terrified of Reaper and does all he can to avoid him. Reaper knows this and acknowledges that it's partly his own fault, but he also partly doesn't care. It isn't Reaper's job to pay attention to Nightmare, but Nightmare is familiar to him, which means that Reaper is at least a little bit fond of him. Whenever they do cross paths, Reaper makes sure to verbally poke him a bit.

Reaper and Error have a long history. Error's "job" tended to mess with Reaper's job, which then messed with Error's job. Basically, they saw each other a lot in the early days. Error found Reaper incredibly frustrating at the start, because he was unkillable, and he was taking the abominations Error was trying to erase, and he was always tALKING WHILE ERROR WAS TRYING TO FOCUS- yeah. Error loosened up over time, enough to even trade quips back and forth and compete a little. He grew a little dependent on the vague feeling of companionship between them, and Reaper was the one he went to when he wanted a way to die. Reaper, for his part, is fond of Error, but that fondness is tainted by guilt and sadness. Error is still the first Geno, and Reaper feels a bit of responsibility that he wasn't able to convince Geno to rest, thus leading to Error's painful existence. Errors cannot be "saved" by Reaper, so now all Reaper can offer him is friendly banter when they see each other.

Reaper knows Horror quite well. Because Horror was already "dead", he could see Reaper whenever he came to collect the humans Horror had killed in his AU. Reaper's reaction to Horror's situation was "yikes", which Horror found darkly funny (and even a little refreshing). They share a morbid sense of humor, and Horror genuinely enjoyed any distraction he could get from his reality. Their first meeting after Horror had been taken by Nightmare was an accident on Horror's part, but after that, whenever he needed a distraction and could get away with it, Horror would kill one random person on purpose for the chance to talk to Reaper. Reaper doesn't offer to help Horror, and Horror doesn't ask him to. Being able to talk to someone outside of Nightmare's influence, to experience any amount of normalcy, for a few moments is enough to ground him.

Reaper did not spend as much time raising Dream as Ink did, but in some ways Reaper's influence was much more important. Reaper taught Dream what it meant to be a Guardian, not a hero or a servant. He knows that Dream won't ever be able to just be a Guardian after eating the golden apple (now carrying his domain inside himself), but he does his best to help Dream figure out and understand what his responsibilities actually are. They occasionally see each other in the aftermath of Nightmare's attacks. Reaper is much softer to Dream than to anyone else, and Dream tries to focus on Reaper's voice in his head, instead of those of the villagers.

Fuck I got carried away, okay, time to speedrun the rest (edit: I did not speedrun the rest)

On the omega timeline side of things, swap sans #1 aka "swap" was living there after his universe was destroyed. He is good friends with Lust and Dance (who are besties), but his closest friends for sure are Sci and Fell. They play dnd together and other silly-serious roleplaying stuff. Blueberror offered his place in swap timeline #2 to him, but Swap declined. Even though he declined, he still appreciated the offer so so so much. Swap is Berror's number one defender and doesn't let anyone in the omega timeline get away with talking badly about him (even if he may deserve it).

Fell, Comic (classic), Sci, Swap, Outer, Dream, Blue (swap #3), Epic, and Blueberror (among others) are all part of the Reducing the Effects of Nightmare's Bullshit group. This mostly just includes providing aid to a timeline after the attack has already happened to mitigate the spread and staying power of the negativity. Epic mostly just assists Sci when he needs it, and brings every report back to Ccino's to share with the squad.

Epic sanses are epic sanses. They love each other, and they spend a lot of their time in the corner booth at Ccino's. Ccino (#2) has been in the omega timeline for years and hasn't left it. He's never met Nightmare before, and his friends (especially Delta) are insistent on keeping it that way. He knows that the Ccino from Fluffytale #1 was involved with Nightmare somehow, and disappeared (was pronounced dead) sometime after. He knows that Epic, Delta, and Color all hate Nightmare with varying degrees of intensity, so he's fine disliking Nightmare by proxy. The front counter at Ccino's is usually taken up by Outer and Farm. The three are besties. Outer and Ccino specifically being in a qpr. No one knows how Farm finds the time to laze around the cafe And grow enough to supply the cafe with half its ingredients. No one knows if he ever sleeps.

Rolling back around to Blueberror, he and Error go through a LOT of ups and downs, but they settle on being prickly besties. They can't actually spend a lot of time together before friendly arguments start to get heated. They don't Want to hate each other, so they try to avoid the past and mostly just gossip about other people. They feel tied together, but their edges don't fit together at all and being that close quickly gets uncomfortable, if not painful, but there's no one else who really gets it, so... they manage. It's not great by any means, but it's the best that two errors can do.

Blueberror and Fresh, on the other hand, get along great. On the surface, you'd think they were the best of friends, but their feelings for each other are actually surprisingly shallow. Sure, Blueberror is interesting, but he's interesting in the way that Error was already interesting, so Fresh doesn't actually spare him much of his thought or focus. Berror doesn't mind that at all. Prefers it, actually. They have a good, fun, easy "friendship" that doesn't actually require much from them.

Error and Fresh sure are something. No one knows what, but it's something.

Nightmare and Fresh are... neutral. Fresh owes much of his emotional intelligence to reading every book in Nightmare's library, which he only did with Nightmare's permission. Fresh is respectful... for the most part. He can't help but throw a half-hidden jab in here and there when they talk. Nightmare figures it's just his nature to do so, and lets him off with a warning every time. Fresh absolutely means them.

Ink is not actually around much. His "job" has him traveling all across the multiverse. He doesn't linger anywhere for very long, and he doesn't care to form any meaningful connections with anyone. Error is the only exception to this, and Ink has yet to figure out why that is. He woke Dream from his stone prison at the insistence of a Creator that doing so would help curb Error and Nightmare's rampage (it did not. One could even say it made Nightmare worse.). He'll say he raised Dream, but he didn't really do much, nor does he care about Dream any more than he does about other "important" outcodes.

Dream loves Blue (swap #3). It's actually crazy how much Dream loves Blue. Blue taught Dream to fight, Blue fights by Dream's side in a way no one else does, Blue makes Dream feel like a person, Blue catches his bad habits, Blue listens to him talk, Blue remembers his favorite flowers, how many blankets he likes to sleep with, which desserts he does and doesn't like, his opinion on cotton vs linen. The two of them are more than a little codependent actually. Blue tries to be more levelheaded about their relationship, but it's not easy to be. They're both quite young, for outcodes, and neither one has ever had a partner like this before. If they had any time to settle down, they would be able to work through it and be a little healthier about it, but as it is, Dream has to constantly protect the multiverse from Nightmare, and Blue has to constantly protect Dream from Nightmare.

Blueberror makes Blue viscerally uncomfortable, but he tries not to let that color his interactions with him.

Fatal's origins are a bit different in this multiverse than in his canon, but rest assured he still wants to kick Error's ass. Double G comes from the same inciting incident as Fatal, but has something else completely going on. He goes around interrupting the genocide scripts he finds (Ink is constantly trying to get him to stop). If he stumbles across a timeline that Fatal has interfered with, he regards the glitching aftermath fondly. He can't remember why exactly.

I think everyone else's relationships are either as expected, or not all that relevant to this specific story. None of Geno's relationships happen right away, especially not his relationship with Murder, but I had to tease that found family >:3

Ship chart but it’s not a ship chart it’s a friendship/found family/QPR chart

[absurdthirst]

St. Valentine's Miracle {Pero Tovar x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 12.9k

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, insults, mentions of prostitution, mentions of rape, violence, fighting, Tovar kills a man, adrenaline fueled sex, begging, slightly subby Pero, cock riding, unprotected sex, anger, miscommunication, pregnancy, morning sickness, throwing up, stubbornness, confessions, oral sex (female receiving), pregnancy sex, gentle Pero, childbirth

Comments: Pero Tovar infuriates you. One night, things boil over and you shift from enemies to lovers with a surprising result that changes everything on St. Valentine's Day.

A/N: ❤️❤️HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!!!❤️❤️

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Pero Tovar MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Pero Tovar tilts his cup back, letting the last swallow of ale slide down his throat before he slams his cup down on the worn smooth rough hewn table in the middle of the tavern. A belch comes out and he smirks when he opens his mouth again. “Another ale, wench.” He demands, knowing that the request will infuriate you. Not because of the coin he spends. No, you will greedily pocket that. It’s because of him calling you a wench. Even though that is what you are, you seem to think you deserve to be called the tavern keeper. So, just to irritate you, Pero calls you a wench every time he gets a chance just to set your teeth on edge.

You clench your jaw, shaking your head as you pour another ale for the ill mannered mercenary and you carry it over to him, slamming it down in front of him so it spills. You grab the empty tankard and he smirks, tilting his head towards your cleavage that's in his face when you lean over him. "You're a pig." You scoff, grabbing your rag to wipe down the table.

Pero grunts as he reaches for the mug. Ever since he arrived in this village, ready to settle down and put his sword down for good, the two of you have been at each other’s throats. It might be because he asked how much it would be to fuck you along with he room he had wanted for the night, but how was he to know you weren’t a whore? He had assumed it was a brothel when he walked in and found a woman behind the bar. “And you are a shrew.” He shoots back.

You scoff, “I’d rather be a shrew than have your unwanted attention, Tovar.” You intentionally drag the wet rag over his face when you walk past and he sputters, “bitch.” You smirk as you stride to the bar, looking to the other patrons who are waiting for their drinks.

He scowls as he watches you stroll away from him without the extra swish a whore would put into her step. Not trying to entice a man, but your hips move generously on their own. You are confident and since that first disastrous interaction, you tolerate him like a festering sore. It wasn’t his fault he had thought you were to be bought although it never crosses his mind to apologize for the mistake. He never had to do that before. William was the sweet talker, he did the glowering. He takes another sip of his mug and then decides that he’s hungry. “Wench! Bring me some stew!” He demands, waiting until you are busy again just to get back at you.

You clench your jaw, unable to believe he is demanding. “Bastard.” You murmur under your breath, deciding to take your time to serve everyone who has been waiting before you head into the kitchen to pour a bowl of stew for him. You are tempted to spit in it but you don’t, carrying it over to the grumpy Spaniard. “Here you go.” You slam it down so it spills over a little, “impatient prick.”

He chuckles darkly. “You decided to take too long.” He huffs. “I am not hungry now.” He smirks when you whirl around and glare at him. He knows he will eat it, but it is satisfying to see your eyes flash with anger and hatred for him. “It is probably poisoned anyway.”

"I wouldn't waste the poison on someone like you." You retort, "eat it or don't. You are still paying for it." You hiss and he chuckles, enjoying seeing you so riled up and you take a breath, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. "Enjoy your meal, sir." You offer and spin around, making your way back to the bar.

Pero tucks into the stew after a moment. Eating the delicious meal eagerly. You make better food than he does and it’s not often that he would go a week without coming to eat here while drinking his ale. He just enjoys the way you spit at him.

You watch Pero from the corner of your eye as you wipe down the counter. The men are getting louder, rowdier, and you are glad you have the knife strapped to your thigh. Pero tilts his head back to sip his ale and you can't help but admire his neck, strong and muscular as he gulps. He's dangerous and a prick but damn if he isn't handsome. It's a shame he's such a prick.

“Her cunt has to be tighter than a fist.” His eyes cut over to where the two brothers that he has been at odds with talk loudly at their table. He doesn’t like many men, only one man he has ever counted as a friend and he had turned back to China to chase a woman, but he loathes these two. He itches to put a knife in the youngest throat, just to have some blessed silence from the ridiculous boasts. “Good thing you will never know.” He grunts, smirking as he takes another sip of the ale.

The younger one snorts, "says you, Tovar. She wants me. I can tell. She keeps looking over here with a look in her eyes." He smirks and his brother nods, "she definitely needs a cock inside her. Maybe she will relax a little." He smirks and you look over just as the brother winks at you. You resist the urge to wrinkle your nose but he waves you over. You sigh under your breath, knowing you need to go over there if he wants more ale. You make your way through the tavern and approach their table, "what can I get you?" You ask, gripping your skirts.

“Bend over and lift your skirts.” The older brother comments, making Pero snort and roll his eyes. At least he had offered coins for the use of your cunt. “Want to see how loud you scream in pleasure.” He continues, making Pero chuckle in disbelief. “Hard to make someone scream when you can’t find your cock beneath your belly.” He huffs as he finishes his stew and pushes the bowl back.

You chuckle, agreeing with Pero, and the brother scowls, standing from his seat. You fumble for your knife but he grabs your arms, “you dare to fucking insult me? You fucking bitch. Only good for one thing.” He growls, tightening his grip and he tries to spin you to push you face down onto the table.

Pero has no problem insulting you, trading barbs and venom with glee. He wouldn’t touch you without your agreement and he doesn’t allow any other men to abuse women around him. Especially not one who brings him his ale. The chair scrapes back loudly as he leaps up and slams against elder brother, knocking you away from his grip and growling furiously as he faces the bastard. “Don’t fucking touch her.” He warns dangerously.

You scramble away from him, chest heaving, and you watch as Pero sizes up the brother. He’s bigger than Pero but that doesn’t stop the Spaniard from getting in his face. He growls and the younger brother stands, “is she yours? I didn’t fucking think so, Tovar. So she’s fair game for everyone.”

Pero scoffs and shakes his head. “She chooses.” He spits out. “And she didn’t choose any of the limp pricks here.” His eyes cut over to you, finding you watching with wide eyes and he glances back at the two brothers. “Leave and I’ll let you breathe for another day.”

The brother snorts, looking over at you, “do you want me to fuck that pretty little cunt?” He coos and you clench your jaw, “no. No. Get the fuck out of my tavern.” You hiss, “you are barred.”

It’s obvious that he didn’t like that answer, the younger brother reaching for his dagger and Pero chuckles darkly. “Amigo, I would not do that if you wish to see the next sunrise.” He promises. “Leave and fight another day, eh?”

The brother bristles and you narrow your eyes at him, knowing he is going to struggle to walk away but his brother pulls on his shoulder. “Fuck you.” He growls, shrugging off his brother, and he brings his hand up, smacking your face so hard your head turns. “No bitch tells me what to do.”

Pero lunges at the older brother. Growling as he reaches for the dagger that is strapped to his waist. Fury clouding his vision and he grabs the other man’s hand, bringing his forehead down to slam against his, head butting him as he starts a fight with the two brothers.

You gasp, stumbling back as Pero fights the brothers. You never expected him to defend you and you fumble to pull the knife from your thigh under your skirts. Gripping it, you watch as Pero swings his knife at the older brother while the younger one stalks behind him. You step closer, acting before you think as you swipe his arm with your knife to stop him.

He sees the younger man behind him, knowing that he will do something, so he turns right as you cut him with your knife. “Bitch!” He cries out grabbing his arm before he backhands you, launching himself towards you. “I’ll teach you to say no to me and my brother!” He yells, doubling over when Pero punches him in the stomach and grabs the back of his shirt to throw him over the table. The older brother attacks him and without a second’s thought, Tovar turns and drives his blade deep into the man’s gullet.

You stumble back into the benches, watching the man choke on his own blood as Pero withdraws the knife. He falls to his knees and his brother screams in anger, surging forward to attack Pero. You grip your knife, now coated in blood, wanting to help the Spaniard but he swings his fight, punching the remaining brother while the other slumps down on the floor, choking a few more times before he goes silent.

Pero grabs the man’s shirt, hauling him close to growl fiercely. “Take your brother’s worthless body and flee.” He hisses. “Or I will kill you too.” He shoves him away and watches as the man falls back over the broken chair behind him and scrambles over to his brother’s body. Terrified that he would actually be killed. Those patrons who had not fled at the beginning of the fight quickly rush out of the tavern while Pero stands there calmly, wiping his blade clean and resheathing it in his belt. His dark eyes turn towards you, flickering down to the bloody dagger still in your grip and then back up to your wide eyes. “Another ale.” He tells you, bending down and picking up his cup off the floor.

You stare at him in shock, unable to believe he sits down and holds the tankard up towards you. You wipe the bloody knife on your skirts and you lift them to shove the knife back in your sheath and you take his cup with a shaking hand to refill it.

 The younger brother finally hauls his brother’s body out of the tavern, the place quiet except for the crackling of the fire in the hearth as you come and set the cup down in front of him. “The business is gone tonight.” He observes as he picks the cup up and takes a thirsty swallow. He feels kind of guilty that your business has died off for the night.

You glance around, finally realizing that the tavern had emptied and you shake your head, "you've scared everyone off. Now - now I will lose coins." You growl at him, the adrenaline transforming into anger. "Bastard." You murmur as you fetch him another ale. You slam it down on the table in front of him, ale sloshing, and you watch him casually take a sip, "drink up. I am closing."

He snorts and leans back against the chair. “Not very grateful for saving you.” He grunts. “Perhaps you did want your skirts tossed up.” He takes another sip of his ale, draining it until it is gone and stands to walk to the door.. “Should I call the younger one back?” He asks as he strides away

You lean against the table, chest heaving, and you growl before you charge over to him before he opens the door. “You’re a bastard.” You hiss at him, grabbing his upper arm to stop him from walking out, “and you are an ass.” He spins around, eyebrows raised, “I’m an ass for stopping them from taking what doesn’t belong to them?” He asks and you shake your head, “you’re an ass because - because-” You cut yourself by cupping his cheeks and you press your lips to his, heart pounding in your chest.

Groaning, Pero’s arms wrap around your body and he spins you around to press you against the same table he has just left. Ravenous as he licks into your mouth and tastes you when you gasp in surprise. He wants you. He’s wanted you from the first time he had seen you, thinking to buy the night between your thighs but you hadn’t been for sale. He reaches down and squeezes your ass as he hardens in his breeches. The adrenaline is still racing in his blood and turning to lust until you push him away. “What-“ he frowns, confused. Your chest is heaving and your lips are swollen from his attention.

“Shut up. Don’t talk and ruin this.” You demand, grabbing his hand from your ass to guide him through the tavern to your quarters near the kitchen. No one is allowed in here except you and that’s how it’s been until now. “Strip.” You order, wanting to see his body, one you’ve imagined more times than you’ve ever admit, even with a knife to your neck.

His brows pull together but he starts to unbutton the vest that he has started wearing over his shirt. It’s not as thick as the leather armor he had been used to, but it’s an extra layer of protection. Pulling out extra daggers that he has hidden and dropping his clothes to the ground. Pulling his shirt over his head and then bending down and hopping around on one foot as he pulls off his boots. Standing straight to find you smirking as he reaches for the laces of his breeches.

You stand there, watching him as he bares his body in front of your hungry eyes. Your chest heaves and you reach up to slowly undo the laces of your dress as he works on his breeches.

He is already half hard, but he shucks his breeches down with no shame. His cock is a good size and he’s never had any reason to doubt he could satisfy a woman. It bobs heavily, still thickening and growing as he kicks aside his breeches and stands proudly in front of you.

You shrug off the top layer of your dress and you freeze when you see his cock bouncing as he stands there. He's strong, scarred, and intimidating, but you won't let that show as you stand, continuing to undo your dress until it drops from your form. You stand naked before him, heart thumping in your chest, and you surge forward to press your lips to his again, bare skin against his.

It has been a long time since Pero has been completely naked with a woman. He groans, hands sliding down your shoulders and back, over your sides and hips until he is grabbing your ass and pulling you closer. “Hermosa.” He groans against your lip, cock twitching against your belly. So often the women he paid to fuck would just lift their skirts, so to feel your bare breasts against his chest is wonderful.

You moan as your hands caress his back, feeling the scars from battles he survived, and you slide your hand lower until you're gripping his cock. His groan is muffled against your chin and you chuckle, squeezing him and feeling him grow in your grip. "Beg me." You demand, "beg to cum."

He scoffs, scowling at you. He doesn’t beg to cum. You squeeze his cock again and he twitches in your hand. “I want to fuck you.” He admits after a moment. “I want you to beg.” You repeat and he huffs, knowing you could just as easily send him away and he would be left with just his hand for pleasure. His own hand comes up to cup your breast as his other squeezes your ass. “Let me fuck you, hermosa.” He croons softly. “You won’t regret a night on my cock.”

“Not good enough.” You squeeze his cock, pumping him slowly and his eyes flutter at the sensation. You know you won’t get what you want by telling him so you’ll get it with action. “Go lay down.” You order, pointing to the cot in your room.

It is rare that he takes orders that don't benefit him and this is no exception. You want him and if you want to ride him, he has no objections. Especially with your bare tits in his face. He moves over to the cot and lays down, finding it soft and sweet smelling, smelling like you. He wraps his hand around his cock and starts to pump it as he watches you with dark eyes.

You watch him, your cunt clenching with need, but you refuse to show it as you slowly make your way over to the cot. “You look desperate.” You mock him as you shift to straddle his thighs, looking down at the almost purple cock in his hand, “it’s pathetic.”

“It is.” His voice is raspy, low. He doesn’t stop moving his hand up and down his aching cock. “It has been a long time since I have been buried deep inside a hot cunt.” He licks his dry lips and reaches out to caress your breast. “Hermosa.” He murmurs softly.

You bat his hand away, liking how needy he looks. So unlike the harsh and demanding mercenary that orders ale in your tavern. You reach down to cover his hand with yours, working his cock. "You have to beg to fuck me." You remind him, leaning down to dribble your spit on the purple head of his cock.

“Mierda.” Pero hisses. His thighs tensing and his hands harden on your skin for a brief second before he makes himself relax. He has no wish to hurt you and make your soft skin tender. You are beautiful and he moans when your spit is rubbed over his cock with your hand. “Let me have you.” He begs breathlessly. “Sit on my cock. Let me feel your cunt around me.”

You giggle, happy to see the glazed look of lust and need in his eyes. You are dripping between your thighs and you hate how much you want him. The terrifying experience makes you desperate to feel something other than fear. You let go of his cock and he whines, making you chuckle. "Patience, Tovar." You tut and you shift up to straddle his hips, lifting yours so you can grip his cock. "Please." He murmurs and you position him at your entrance until you slowly sink down onto him.

Pero makes a strangled sound, his hands whipping to your hips and he holds them in an iron grip but he doesn’t force you to take him faster. He doesn’t snap his hips up to bury his cock deep like he wants to. His toes curl and he hisses out curses under his breath in Spanish as you take him. Loving how hot and tight you are around him.

You take him slow inside you, loving the tortured look on his face, and you shift your hands to press your palms to his chest. He's thick and he stretches you in a way that makes your breath catch. "You look so desperate, Tovar. Like my cunt is the gateway to heaven." You smirk, caressing his chest.

Scowling at you, he growls under his breath as his cock twitches inside you. Pulling a moan out of you and it’s his turn to smirk. “You are the one riding my cock like a needy whore.” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, to spit at him. Lunging forward, he pushes you back while he lowers his head to wrap around one of your nipples.

Your breath catches and you moan his name, your fingers tangling in his hair to push him harder into your chest. “You’re a bastard.” You declare breathlessly but it doesn’t hit as hard as it should when you are grinding down onto his cock.

He chuckles against your skin, eyes flicking up to your face as his tongue slowly flicks against the distended nub. He sucks it into his mouth and hums as he pulls deep and harshly against it. Loving how your cunt walls clench around him.

You pull on his hair, dragging his face from your tit, and his neck tilts as you look down at him. “You’re a bastard.” You repeat with more conviction, rocking onto his cock a little faster as you tug on his hair and you lean down to kiss his neck, nipping it seconds later.

He groans in pleasure, sliding his hands down to your ass to help you rock on his cock before he slaps it. “You like it, eh? Me being a bastard? You like a man who is rough?” You roll your eyes at him and huff when you pull away so he drags your lips to his, his hand around then back of your neck to hold you close.

You let him push his tongue into your mouth, your fingers tangling in his hair again, and he grunts when you bite down on his lip when he withdraws his tongue. “You’re a prick who thinks he can act how he wants.” You hiss back at him, reaching for his hands from your back and you shift, pushing him back when your fingers wrap around his wrists, lifting his hands above his head. Your tits sway in his face and you are surprised he allowed you to do this. “Need someone to show you how to behave. You’re an animal.”

He watches your breasts bounce, twitching inside you but he doesn’t try to thrust up into your heat. You obviously want control. “So you will teach me?” He chuckles darkly and twitches inside you again. “You are not a princess though, are you?” He rasps out. “You are a violent wench, drawing blood tonight.” He is honestly proud of you for defending yourself, for helping him when you could have just watched. “A demon.”

You growl at his depiction of you, knowing that he’s not wrong but hearing it spoken out loud has you squeezing his wrists in your grip. “Had to help you since you had two on one and I wasn’t sure if you could handle it.” You taunt him, knowing it’s a lie but you want to rile him up.

He smirks, enjoying your banter and the way you taunt him. “I would have had no problem killing both of them.” He promises. “You are the one who was shaking when bringing me an ale.”

“In anger. You infuriate me. I have been groped and you - you escalated it. I still need to mop the blood from the floor.” You hiss. “You act without a thought.” You slam back onto his cock.

He huffs. “No, I kept a man from taking what was not his.” He grunts, correcting you. “No one else was coming to your aid.” Everyone else in the tavern had silently watched. “A man who rapes a woman deserves to die.”

“I had it handled.” You lie, knowing that he stopped one of the worst things from happening to you. You grind down, shifting to press your chest to his and he hisses at the change in the angle. “Whatever you want to believe.” He growls and you let go of his wrist, gripping his chin instead, “I don’t need rescuing.”

His dark eyes are steady on yours, watching you. “You don’t need rescuing.” He agrees, wrapping his arms around you and starting to move his hips. Thrusting up into your body while he holds you.

A cry escapes your lips and you lean down to press your lips to his, cupping his cheek and you caress it. You slide your tongue into his mouth, letting him fuck you and you moan, rocking back onto him.

This is what he craves. Kissing you back as he drives his hips up again and again. Burying himself so deep in your cunt that your walls spasm around him. One arm anchors you in place while the other cups your breast, pinching the nipple roughly as he groans into your mouth.

You pant, getting lost in the sensations, and your breath puffs against his neck as he thrusts up into you. “Fuck.” You curse, “Pero.” You are getting worked up as he thrusts up into you.

He loves the little sounds you make. The desperate mewls of pleasure that pour out of your mouth as you cling to him. Your body is getting slick with sweat and he pants out your name, rocking steadily up into you. “Cum for me.” He growls, desperate to hold out until you shout his name. 

You struggle to breathe as he thrusts up into you, your cunt pulsing as he pushes you and pushes you until you break. You cry out his name, falling apart around him, and you soak his cock. “Fill- fill me up.” You beg, needing to see and feel him fall over the edge.

Pero’s eyes roll back and he hisses through his teeth. Snarling at the command and eager to give you what you want. His grip on you tightens and it only takes a few thrusts before he is burying his cock deep and flooding your womb with his hot seed, groaning your name.

You watch him as he cums, filling your cunt and you caress his cheek, leaning down to rest your forehead against his as you try to catch your breath. “Fuck.” You curse, feeling exhausted and it takes you a while to remember the man beneath you but when you do, you shift off him, walking over to the basin to clean yourself up with a wet rag.

Pero watches you. His eyes follow you as you clean up and he doesn’t know what to say, sure that you will kick him out of your bed. So he is surprised when you bring the rag back over to him and climb into the cot with him again. “Do not ruin this.” You huff when he opens his mouth, so he doesn’t say anything. Smirking slightly as you settle down beside him and he tosses the rag to the floor after cleaning up and he closes his eyes. Eager to sleep after such a long day.

You find yourself curled into him when you wake up in the middle of the night. His arm around your waist and you smile, closing your eyes and you let yourself drift back off to sleep. You feel safe in his arms. 

****

The early morning sun hits your face and you wince, blinking as you try to adjust to the brightness. You inhale deeply and stretch, shifting to look at Pero, but you frown when you find the space he occupied is empty. The sheets cool when you touch them, and you hate that tears spring into your eyes as you get out of your bed. You reach for your shift and pull it over your head, making your way out into the tavern to see if Pero is out there. He isn't. You cross your arms and shake your head, glancing around and your eyes widen when you see the blood on the floor has been cleaned up. You are surprised and you huff, unsure of why he left without even saying goodbye.

Pero curses as he pulls the stone out of the horse's hoof, pressing against the beast’s belly and then dropping the foot. The hoof is bruised and even though he only got half of the field planted, he couldn’t make the poor beast lame by making it work while injured. “Mierda.” He hisses, straightening up and starting to unstrap the horse from the plow to guide it back to the barn. Since he was done early, he could fix the chair that had been broken in the fight last night and take it back to you. Finding himself eager to see if you are happy that he had cleaned up and fixed what was broken. Maybe he could spend the night in your bed again. It was the best sleep he had since the exhausted sleep at the wall. He smirks as looks at the barrel of water. He will have to bathe before he visits the tavern again.

You are in a sour mood all morning, preparing the stew and bread to serve and when you allow your first patrons to enter around midday. You sigh and wipe your hands on your apron, hating that you search for Pero in the crowd of men that appear. You get lost in your work, serving ale and bowls of stew until he finally walks in. He left you this morning without a word and that hurt.

By the time he had cleaned up and finished fixing the chair, the sun was starting to hang low in the sky. Holding the fixed furniture in his hand, he strides into the tavern. Immediately seeking you out, finding you bending over a table to serve ales to a group of travelers, he grunts in appreciation of the curve of your ass. Remembering how it had felt bare in his hands as you bounced on his cock. “The dead man did not stop visitors today.” He grunts, eyeing the travelers with a small smirk on his face.

You frown when he seems to return victoriously to the tavern. You huff, "I wondered where the chair went." You look down at the chair he fixed, your heart thumping, but you know he only fixed it because he felt guilty.

“What kind of stew did you make tonight?” He isn’t offended at your lack of enthusiasm for his appearance, setting the chair down and sitting in it. Secretly happy that the damn thing didn’t collapse. He’s not a furniture maker. He was a mercenary and now he’s trying to be a farmer for all the good it is doing him.

You stare at him, remembering that empty bed. He may be trying his hand at farming but he doesn’t get up at dawn with the others. Always a late start, so that excuse doesn’t wash. You swallow and glance around the tavern, taking a moment, before you look at him again, “chicken.” You declare, “killed it this morning, imagining it was you.”

He frowns at the venom in your voice and then tightens his jaw. “Then I’ll just have an ale, wench.” He grunts, narrowing his eyes at you and trying to figure out why you are still spitting at him after letting him spend the night in your bed. He had thought cumming would have made you sweeter. “I have no use for a stew to curdle my stomach.”

You huff, narrowing your eyes at him when you realize he likely killed the man because he wanted your cunt for himself. You make your way through the tavern, pouring a tankard of ale, and you just barely resist slamming it down in front of him, wanting to pour it over his head, but you sarcastically say “don’t choke on it” and spin on your heel.

Pero watches you stalk off, frowning slightly as he reaches for the ale you had poured him. He had hoped things would be different, but you still despise him. It was a good thing he had left your bed when he woke up, hating to think what your wrath would have been like had you woken to find him still asleep in your bed. “Shrew.” He huffs under his breath, tipping the mug up.

****

You frown as you look in the mirror. Standing naked, you turn to the side and back again, confused by your rounded stomach. “I can’t be.” You murmur, rubbing the small bump as you try to remember when you last bled. You squint as if it works to help you think but soon your eyes widen. “Tovar. You bastard.” You growl, knowing it’s not the man’s fault. In all your emotional turmoil after he abandoned your bed once he got what he wanted, you’d forgotten to drink your tea. You’re with child. You try not to panic, knowing you have a stable income and a home in the tavern but you worry for your child’s acceptance in the village. They will be branded a bastard, cast aside, but you know you’ll love them. Inhaling deeply, you dress and decide whether to tell Tovar. You don’t have long to decide as your name is called and you need to get to work. The stew needs to be prepared.

Pero blows out a sigh as he enters the tavern, sure that he will once again butt heads with you. It’s not as satisfying as it once had been, not when he knows how you moan and how soft your skin is. You’ve never allowed him back into your bed, not that he’s asked. The tavern isn’t full yet, but it will be. The days are getting shorter and he’s just hauled in the last of his crops. It was a decent year and he is ready to rest after the backbreaking work. “Ale!” He calls out as he moves over to his normal table.

You sigh when you hear his voice. You have been worried about how you’d feel when you see him knowing you’re carrying his child. You pour a cup of ale and carry it over to him, setting it down. “Anything else?” You ask softly, so taken back by your revelation that you can’t even muster the energy to be snarky.

He’s so surprised by your lack of attitude that he freezes for a moment, jaw slaw. “Um, stew.” He decides, just as quiet. “It smells good.” It makes his mouth water almost as much as you do. You look pretty, although maybe a little tired.

You nod, knowing you struggled to cook the stew this morning but you powered through after placing some herbs under your nose. Your heart thumps at seeing Tovar, your hands gripping the bowl as you remember what he looked like beneath you, and you shake your head, reaching for the ladle. Your stomach twists as the smell hits your nose but you take a deep breath and carry it through the tavern. Your stomach lurching and you try to calm down but when you stand in front of Tovar, you gag and throw up straight into the bowl of stew.

Leaping up, Pero manages to avoid the splash. Taking your waist gently and reaching up to hold you steady as you grip the edge of the table and empty your belly of pitiful amounts of food and drink. It might be lucky that you haven’t eaten much, but you work too hard to survive off that. “Come, hermosa.” He huffs when you finally stop retching, “let me help you to your room.” He doesn’t give you a chance to argue with him, turning you around and steering you towards the back. “I wasn’t that hungry anyway.” He jokes.

You shake your head, “I- shit. I’m so sorry.” You manage to choke out but he guides you to the chair in the corner and you watch him as he rushes to grab some water and a wet rag for you to clean yourself up. You sip the water and sigh, feeling a lot better. “Thanks.” You wipe your face with the wet rag and you sigh, “I need to get back.” Pero shakes his head, “no. You’re sick. You need to rest.” You huff, “I can’t. I need to run the tavern.” Pero growls at your stubbornness, “idiota.” He hisses, “you need to rest.” You ignore him and stand up, swaying slightly, and his hands grip your waist after he rushes over to you. “I’m fine.” You push his hands away, ignoring the way his eyes widen. “You’re-” He chokes and you snort, finishing his sentence, “pregnant.”

Pregnant. He’s never gotten a woman pregnant before. At least not that he knows of. Never wanting to leave a trail of bastards behind him because of how the child was treated. As if they were to blame for their parents. “Pregnant.” He whispers, stepping back and his eyes slide over to the cot where you had created a new life. “Are you sure?” He asks, making you snort. “I have not bleed since that night.” You hiss and he knows you would not lie about something like that. “I-I” he trips over his tongue, unsure of what to say. “The babe makes you sick?”

You nod, “yes. I thought it was a malady. I have been sick for a few days and this morning…” You bring your hand to your stomach, “I noticed a bump.” You confess, “and then I tried to remember the last time I bled. It was before that night. I don’t expect anything. I am prepared to have this child alone.” You add, not wanting him to have some sense of duty.

Pero frowns and shakes his head. “The child will be a bastard. Shunned.” He huffs, not understanding why you would say such things. “You believe that men try to abuse you now?” He snorts. “They will come sniffing when your belly grows and they know a man crawled between your legs.”

“I can take care of myself.” You growl at him, “I have a home. I have coins. I can handle myself.” Pero shakes his head, “and a child? You think it’s fair for our child to grow up as a bastard? People telling him he has a whore for a mother.” His growl makes you react before you can think and your hand comes up to slap him. You stare at him in surprise at your action and Pero’s eyes are full of hurt. “Get out.” You demand, clenching your jaw.

He hisses, his cheek stinging from the slap but he would never hit you back. His fist clenches to keep from reaching for you again and he bows mockingly. “As my lady wishes.” He huffs before he turns on his heel and walks out of your room. He knows that some will see him come out of your private area and rumors will spread, but you seem to believe that you can handle it. He needs to think about what he will do next.

You choke, tears stinging in your eyes, and you stumble over to the chair. A sob escapes your lips and your hand comes down to rest on your belly. “It’s okay. We will be okay.” You promise, sniffing as you wipe your eyes, and you stand up. Inhaling deeply, you steady yourself and make your way back into the tavern. You have a job to do.

****

The next day Pero is at the tavern well before the doors open. You don’t rent rooms, so no one comes and goes at odd hours. He sees the smoke coming out of the chimney, a lazy little curl from a banked fire so it’s possible you are still sleeping as he glances around behind the building. It’s apparent you used to have a sizable stable and he wonders if at one point the tavern was an inn. Still, the space here would allow him to erect the spit he had built last night. The wagon he had dragged into town is unhitched from the horse and he glances towards the door only a few times before he starts to get to work.

You barely manage to drag yourself out of bed, your stomach churning, and you reach for the pot you’ve taken to storing next to your cot. You retch, bringing up last night's dinner until you can breathe again. You rub your belly, “you are trouble already. Just like your father.” You snort and you work fast to clean up and get ready for the day. You steel yourself to prepare the stew as you walk into the kitchen but you are surprised when you smell something cooking. You frown, glancing around the kitchen and when you can’t see anything, you walk outside. You’re met with the sight of Tovar stirring a pot and you are shocked. “What - what are you doing?”

Pero looks up at you, still in a chemise and your feet bare. “What does it look like?” He snorts. “You should get dressed, it’s cold outside.” He knows you have been sick, he heard you from out here and he hates that his babe is being so rough on you. “The stew should be ready in a few hours.” He adds, pulling the large ladle out and handing it on the edge of the spit that holds the heavy pot over the fire he had built underneath it. He frowns when he sees you still standing in the door.

You are confused, wondering why he’s cooking a stew. “Why- why did you - why did you do this?” You ask, crossing your arms to warm yourself up a little and your shift pulls tight over your small bump. He frowns, “you were sick yesterday because of the stew. I wanted to help. I have bread too.” He says, gesturing with his thumb to the wagon. “I don’t need help.” You remind him, watching as his eyes drop down to your belly.

“No one will eat stew you have emptied your belly into.” Pero scoffs, wondering if you will be stubborn the entire time. He wishes he could curse you for it, but he likes your strong willed nature. “You should go-“ Pero shakes his head and holds up his hand. “I am not leaving. The stew is made. Accept it, hermosa.”

Your instinct is to curse him but you are so surprised by his actions. “Fine. Stand out here and cook like a housewife.” You spit, spinning on your heel to stride back into the tavern to dress. It isn’t long before you have patrons and you are serving ale. “I’ll have a bowl of the stew.” One of the men asks and you nod, making your way outside to where Pero is stirring the stew. “I have one order of the stew.”

He smirks as he lifts a brow. “How are you going to carry it into the tavern when you can barely stomach the smell of it?” He asks, taking the bowl out of your hand and waving you away. “I will bring it.” He grumbles as he starts to serve up a generous portion of the stew. It’s rich and fragrant, although he can see you swallowing harshly at the scent. “Go inside. I will find him.” He huffs.

You nod, unwilling to argue when he steps away and you get a breath of fresh air. Leaning against the wall for a second, you wonder if you’ll be like this until the babe is born. You hope not. You’re going to struggle to work if that’s the case. You make your way back inside and see Pero serving the man, taking the coins for the ale and the stew, and when he passes by, you stop him. “Thank you.” You murmur, knowing you can’t let him do all this without a word of appreciation.

He doesn’t say anything, just nodding his head once and he holds out his hand to offer you the coins. “Let me know when someone else orders the stew.” He murmurs after a moment. “I will take care of it for you.” He doesn’t want to crowd you, knowing you will take offense, but it cannot be good to get sick every time you need to serve some stew.

You request stew several times from him until the ale is flowing and the customers are slowly making their way home. Your feet ache and you take a moment to sit down when you see Pero cleaning the stew pot outside. When he’s done, he strides into the tavern, and you stand to fetch him a cup of ale.

“You should rest.” Pero takes the ale and takes a large gulp of the brew. “I have to get more ale out of the cellar.” You groan softly and he frowns. “You lift those barrels?” He demands, aware that the casks of ale are smaller than some of the giant ones he has seen in some fortresses, but it is still too much for you to do by yourself. “I will do it, hermosa.” You stiffen angrily as if he has insulted you. “I don’t need your help.” You hiss, even as he can see how tired you are. “I can provide for myself just fine.” Pero grits his teeth, annoyed that you are being so stubborn. “Why are you being such a bitch?”

Your chest tightens and your pulse flutters in anger. “I’ve been alone since my mother died. I was one and four. I have had to do everything by myself. Survive. My mother let my father have the power over her. She didn’t know how to do anything and when he left, she fell apart and I had to take over. I had to be the parent. I am used to doing everything by myself and I don’t like owing anyone.” You answer truthfully, “so if that makes me a bitch then so be it.”

Pero frowns, softening and shuffling where he stands. Awkward and unsure of what to say. “Then be a bitch.” He says gruffly, nodding. “I will not stop helping. Even when you spit at me. It is my doing that you are sick. Leave the ale, I will do it before you open tomorrow.” He moves over to the table and sets down the last of the bread that he had brought. “Eat and rest. I will leave you in peace for now.” He nods to you again. “Buenos noches, hermosa.”

You watch him go, glancing at the bread he had left for you, and you sigh as you reach for it. You’re hungry and tired and annoyed at him for making it harder to hate him today. It’s easier for everyone if you push him away. You won’t suffer the heartbreak and your child won’t lose a parent. It’s best if they never know what they could’ve had.

The next morning, he’s at your back door before you are awake. Knocking quietly, and shuffling as he waits. He feels bare without armor and weapons, fingers twitching over the small wooden toy that he had carved last night. It’s rough and not very good, but he had remembered it being one of the few toys that he had when he was a boy.

You hear the knock and your heart thumps as you wrap your blanket around your shoulders, making your way to the front door with a candlestick in hand to defend yourself. You carefully open the back door and see Tovar standing there. “What are you doing?” You gasp, shocked to see him as you grip the candlestick.

“I’m here to change the barrels out.” He reminds you, grunting out the response with a small eye roll. “And give you this.” He thrusts the small wooden toy at you, waiting for you to mock the effort that he put into it. It’s poor quality, but he wants his child to have things that he had made for them.

You lower your arm with the candlestick and place it on the table by the back door before you take the small wooden horse with wide eyes, surprised that he can whittle something so delicate. “Tovar-” You murmur and he snorts, “I know it’s shit but I wanted our child to have one thing from me.” He says and tears sting in your eyes at the gesture. You’ve been teary since you found out and you realize the babe is really affecting you.

He frowns at your tears and shuffles, not good with emotions. “It’s not that bad.” He grumbles as he stares at you looking down at the little toy. “I had one, when I was a boy. Only toy I remember ever having.” He confesses. “My first sword was real.”

Your heart clenches at that, knowing he started fighting when he was very young to earn money for his family. “It’s - it’s perfect.” You assure him, “I love it.” Your eyes meet his and a tear falls down your cheek, “for our child.”

“I was a bastard.” He announces, jaw tense. “My father never acknowledged me. Never gave my mother anything for me.” Swallows harshly. “I am not the same man my father was.” He spits. “I’ve killed men, I’ve stolen. I lie. But I would never let my child starve, bastard or not.” He turns and moves towards the doorway that leads to the main area of the tavern to start moving the empty ale kegs out to make room for the new ones.

You can see the determination on his face and it makes your breath catch. He’s serious. “You don’t have to be - I don’t want you to be here through a sense of duty. Our child deserves to have two parents that love them. Not obligated to be around.” You say, fiddling with the toy.

Pero stops and turns back towards you. His eyes are unreadable and he swallows. “I never do anything I don’t want to do, hermosa.” He promises.

You know that's the case. He's as stubborn as a mule. You know he would run for the hills if he didn't want to be a father. You aren't convinced yet but you are softening. Must be the baby making you see him in a new light.

You don’t say anything else, so he turns back to the front room. Knowing that he needs to get the keg changed out and have you show him how to get into it to draw up mugs of ale. He’s not sure about things like this, but he knows that you need more rest, you can’t be running about all the time doing everything yourself.

**** 

It's been a few months since you found out you're with child and you thought Tovar would be long gone by now but he's here, changing kegs and cooking stew. As soon as he collects the coins for the payment, he deposits them into your hand. You are getting bigger but you've managed to conceal your bump beneath your skirts, not wanting anyone to know and already brand your child a bastard before they are even born. You have found yourself growing softer towards the Spaniard. He arrives at the tavern at dawn and leaves after the last patron has left. You are shocked by his dedication to you and the baby without any demands for physical appreciation and pretty words. He's also made more toys for the child, spending his free time gathering cloths and he even paid one of the older women to knit several clothes for the babe. He has proven himself to be someone you can rely on and that has made him infinitely more attractive. You watch him as he works and at night, you touch yourself to thoughts of the night you conceived the baby.

Pero grins as he runs his hand along the smooth surface of the wood. His carving has much improved. Nights spent alone, thinking about you growing his babe as he makes little toys has steadied his hand. Fixing broken tables and chairs for the tavern has taught him how to fit furniture together better. This piece, this is for you. The crib he has carved and built is already standing in the corner of his cottage, ready to deliver to you. Now that this piece is done, he will take a risk and show you how he feels. After all, it is St. Valentine’s Day tomorrow.

You take a drink of water and rest for a moment after you wash several dishes. Pero had come early to cook the stew and you had sent him to fetch some apples from the orchard nearby. You are craving an apple pie and you also want to bake to thank Pero for all his hard work. You look up as he walks in the tavern, his signature scowl on his face until his eyes meet yours and his expression softens. That makes your heart flutter. It’s St Valentine’s Day and your tavern has been full of amorous couples wanting a meal before they retire to the inn. You wipe down the counter as he walks over to you, bag of apples in his hand. “Thank you.” You smile, “I can’t wait to bake those.”

Pero nods and watches as you turn to move towards your dough that you have been working on. Baked pies and breads have been far easier on your stomach than the stews you serve your guests. He likes watching you as you work. “I will check the floor.” He announces. “You work on your pies, hermosa.”

You watch him go, strong shoulders and a threatening gait has your cunt clenching as you remember what he felt like beneath you. In the time he’s been helping, he’s opened up, talking to you even if you don’t respond, and you found his voice soothing and his stories interesting. Even if you sometimes roll your eyes. You prepare the pies with the apple and you place them in to cook as Pero bids goodbye to the last patron. “Lock the door. I’m closing early. No one is here. Apparently they are all celebrating love.” You snort, wiping your hands on your apron.

“Sí.” He frowns, sure that the pies were to sell, but you should be able to make some coins off of them tomorrow. “Come to your rooms.” He urges you. “I have something to show you.” He’s nervous, hoping you like the gifts he had managed to sneak into your bedroom while you had been busy.

You frown in confusion but nod, letting him guide you to your rooms with his hand on your back. You open the door and he ushers you in, waiting for you to notice and when you do, your eyes widen. “Oh my-” You choke, walking over to the crib. “You made this?” You ask him in awe, caressing the wood that’s been delicately carved.

“I did not know if you had one.” He explains, reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. “The babe- I thought it would be nice to have a bed for it to sleep in.” He hopes you like it. You look like you are about to cry again. He prefers when you yell at him over the tears. “If you do not like it-“ he shrugs helplessly.

You shake your head, turning towards him, and you can’t help but wrap your arms around his neck. “Thank you.” You choke, sobbing as this becomes real. You’re going to be a mother. You’re going to have a baby. “It’s perfect.”

It's the first time he’s really touched you besides his fingers brushing yours when he gives you the coins since the day he found out you were pregnant. The bump pressing against his stomach is larger than it was before. His arms come around you and he holds tight for a moment. “There’s something else.” He tells you softly.

You pull back to look into his eyes, confused until he gently turns you. You gasp when you see what is at the end of your cot. “Pero…” You murmur in awe of his craftsmanship. You caress the trunk, admiring the carved butterflies and flowers in the wood. “It’s beautiful.” Your heart flutters and you can’t believe he made this for you.

“You deserve it.” He hums, watching you as your fingers trail over the delicate carvings. You are so beautiful, full of his child, full of life. “I didn’t see one, so I thought that you deserved a place to put your things.”

“I never took you as being observant.” You scoff playfully and he narrows his eyes, shaking his head, “I noticed. That night.” He reveals and you step closer to him, your hand on your bump. “Why - why did you do this?” You ask, looking back at the trunk.

“Open the trunk.” Pero orders quietly, watching you with dark eyes. “Please, hermosa.” You look surprised that he would use manners and he snorts in amusement. “I am not a man who speaks prettily, who has words to say.” He tells you as you kneel down in front of the trunk. “I am a man who speaks with his hands. His actions.”

You frown, confused by the request, but you open the trunk. "Pero." You gasp, pulling the fabric out of the trunk and the beautiful dress unfolds. The patterns are more intricate than anything you've ever seen before. The color is stunning. "It's - it's perfect." You choke, turning to look at him, the dress in your hands and you feel overwhelmed. "Where did you get this?"

“I had it made for you.” He explains. “From fabric I brought back from China.” He ducks his head, hoping you like it. “It is large enough for you to wear now, and when you have the babe, you can take it in.” He wanted you to enjoy it right away. “The patterns remind me of you.” He admits softly. “Hermosa….Beautiful.”

You look back at the dress, tracing the intricate pattern and you have never seen anything like this before. You gently lay the dress down in the trunk, shifting to stand and Pero rushes forward to take your hands, helping you stand. You look at him when you're upright, and his dark eyes are apprehensive. You know he's not a man of words and he's shown you how he feels in his actions. Your heart flutters and you surge forward, cupping his cheeks to press your lips to his.

Pero hums in surprise and his eyes flutter as he slowly wraps his arms around your thickened waist and draws you closer to him. Keeping the kiss just as gentle as it started, his heart pounds in his chest, hoping that you feel the same way.

The kiss is gentle, such a contrast from the rough nature of the mercenary. He pulls back after a moment and you caress his cheek. "I'll say it for both of us. I love you." You murmur, looking at him with adoration. You never imagined that you'd fall for him but seeing how he's been taking care of the tavern for you and now the gifts...it's hard to resist him.

“You do?” He whispers softly, thinking that he might be in a fevered dream. “You love me?” His hand moves around to cup your belly tenderly. “I love you and I love our child. I want to- to be here, with you.” He admits, pressing his forehead against yours. “To marry you.”

"Do you know what my first thought was when I saw the dress?" You ask softly, nudging his nose with yours. He doesn't say anything, wanting you to continue. You smile, "I imagined getting married in that dress. To you."

“Do you want to say our vows before the babe is born?” He asks seriously, arching a brow as he starts to smile. “We can see if the priest will marry us tomorrow.”

You can't believe this is happening but your chest tightens with happiness. "Tomorrow. I want to be your wife tomorrow." You promise, an excited giggle escaping your lips. Pero nods, "tomorow." You caress his cheek, "promise me you won't be easier on me just because I'm your wife."

Pero snorts in amusement. “You wouldn’t let me.” He predicts. “You will still grumble and fight, making my cock hard every time you do.” He smirks when your eyes widen. “I am a difficult man, hermosa. You don’t think fighting makes me hard?”

You smirk, sliding your hands down to his chest, feeling his heart beating beneath your palm. "It's a good thing I want you to fuck me every time you make me angry." You giggle when he growls and his hands slide down to squeeze your ass, "whenever you want, amor." You moan and lean in to kiss him, sliding your hands into his hair.

Pero still lets you control the kiss. His mouth opens in invitation and he groans when your tongue touches his. He turns you both and starts guiding you towards your cot. “We will have to get a bigger bed.” He grunts with a smile.

You giggle, reaching for the hem of his shirt, grateful he doesn't wear his armor. He pulls back for a moment to let you lift his shirt over his head, exposing his chest. "Farming has made you stronger." You observe the more prominent muscles on his body. "Wanted to provide for you and the babe." He explains and you sigh happily, leaning in to kiss the skin above his heart. "My husband." You murmur, leaning back and his hands reach for the ties that keep your dress together.

He slowly starts untie your laces. “You are so beautiful.” He murmurs. “Stole my breath that night.” He groans when your breasts fall out of the chemise when he pulls down your dress. “They are bigger.” His greedy hands cup them and weigh them in his palms for a moment.

You giggle at the hungry look on his face, "they are. They ache...you could help me soothe it with your tongue, my love." You hint, shrugging off your chemise so it falls to the floor and you are left naked in front of him.

Your belly is large, rounded heavily without the concealing layers of your dresses. “Hermosa.” He whispers, twitching in his breeches as he slides his hands to your waist to bring you closer to him. Leaning down, he presses his lips to your stomach. “Mi bebé.” He murmurs softly, looking up at you after he kisses your skin.

You run your fingers through his hair as he caresses your belly. "Our baby." you murmur, smiling at him. His eyes soften and you pull him closer to kiss his lips. His hands caress your waist and you reach down to start untying his breeches. "Need you, Pero. Touched myself so many times thinking of that night. The baby...makes me desperate for your touch."

“Just the baby?” He chuckles as he stands up to make it easier to shuck his pants. He’s already hard and aching, a constant state of being around you. “You are sure that it is just that and not being eager to take my cock again?” He teases. “You screamed my name the last time.”

"In frustration. You didn't make me cum fast enough." You retort, reaching out to wrap your fingers around his hard length after you lick your palm. He groans and you chuckle, starting to pump him. "I bet you want me to scream it again for you."

“Yes.” He pants out, rocking his hips towards your touch. “Stroked my cock every night thinking about how your cunt felt around me.” He grunts. “Hated leaving that morning.” He moans softly when you squeeze him. “Needed to work, show you that I could provide for you if I had a chance to win your heart.”

“I wish you would’ve stayed. You hurt me when you left.” You confess, “thought you just wanted my cunt and you had gotten what you wanted and left.” You sigh as you stroke him.

Pero frowns and he reaches down to cover your hand, making you stop. His eyes are dark and somber as he looks at you. “Never, hermosa.” He promises you. “I want you until I am taking my last breath. I wanted to give you more than just a gruff mercenary.”

You pull your hand away from his cock, dragging him down onto your cot, and you straddle him with your belly pressed between you. "You were enough." You promise, cupping his cheeks, and his hard cock is pressing against your pelvis. "You are enough."

“How do you want this, hermosa?” He asks softly, knowing what your belly is large enough that he would not want to risk being on top of you. He would not hurt the baby. “I want to make you feel good.” He licks his lips and kisses you. “There’s- have you ever had a man kiss your cunt?” He asks. “It is done. I have done it before. Women like it.”

You shake your head, "no. I - that sounds - I want it. I want you to do it." You plead softly, your hand coming up to squeeze your breast. "I can get on my knees." You say as you shift off the cot, kneeling on the end of it with your hands gripping the edge. You look back over your shoulder to where Pero is leaning against your pillow. "Please, my love." You beg, needing to feel him.

He chuckles as he leans forward, caressing your ass. “I have never done it from this position, but it should be the same, no?” He asks, letting his fingers slide down the crevice of your ass and over your puckered hole to finger the wet folds of your sex. “Relax, esposa, I will make you feel good.” He coos, confident he will make you squeal with his tongue. He leans forward and has no hesitation as he dives into your folds, his nose pressed against your other hole.

You gasp, leaning forward on your forearms to give him more access, and you moan when his tongue pushes into your cunt. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt. His tongue is magic, curling as his hands squeeze your ass, “fuck.” You curse, tits swaying as you grind back onto him.

He hums as he licks into you, tasting your musky essence. You are tangy and sweet, delicious and he loves how wet you already are. Growling into your cunt as he devours you, feasts on you like he is a man starved. Until he pulls back. “Turn over, hermosa.” He orders. “Lay on your back so you can rest while I make you cum.”

You nod, shifting away from him so you can carefully lay down. Your bump blocking your view of him as he settles between your thighs. Your chest heaves as his tongue slides between your folds again, flicking your clit with each swipe, and you pant his name.

Pero groans into your cunt, finding you completely addictive. He could spend forever right here, making you whimper his name like that. Sliding a hand up your hip, he covers your baby bump possessively as he sucks your clit into his mouth.

You moan, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair as you slowly rock your hips up into his mouth. "Fuck." You curse, wishing you could see him below your bump.

He chuckles and hums as he slides his tongue around your clit, just missing it until you whine in protest. “How do you feel now, hermosa?” He rasps, his cock aching to sink into you, but he’s going to give you this before he does. Show you how he feels for you.

“Good. So good. Need you inside me.” You demand and he shakes his head against your folds, “not yet.” He says, taking your clit into his mouth to suck hard on it. You whine, chest heaving.. Your thighs squeeze his head and you moan his name.

You are close, he can taste the desperation in your body. The way your thighs tighten around him and he doesn’t let up. Sliding his hand higher, he cups your breast and flicks his thumb over the hard nipple as you come close to shattering around him.

You pant, getting closer and closer to the edge, “fuck.” You moan, covering his hand with yours. “I love you.” You pant and it transforms into a cry as you cum, your orgasm racing through your body.

Pero groans, lapping at your clit and drinking down the juices that are pouring out of you. Working you through it until your body goes lip and your thighs tense every time his tongue touches you. He kisses your thigh and then your stomach as he pushes to his hands and looks up at you with a wicked smirk. “Delicious.”

You giggle at the mischief on his face and you watch as he kneels so you reach down to grip his cock. “Need you inside me, my love.” You plead, slowly stroking his cock.

“I don’t want to crush you.” He pants, eyes rolling back as you touch his aching cock. “Turn on your side.” He grunts. “I will fuck you that way, so I am not on top of you.”

You nod, letting go of his cock so you can shift onto your side. Your hand on your belly as you watch him move. He looks deadly when he’s moving around the tavern but right now he’s soft and slow as he moves to lay down behind you.

He slides one arm under your chest, cupping one of your breasts while he takes his cock in his hand and shuffles his hips forward. “Put your leg on top of mine.” He grunts, twitching when you open up for him and he feels the wet slick of your folds against his cock. “Te amo,” he murmurs. “I love you.” He vows as he slowly starts to push inside your walls.

Your mouth falls open as he stretches you out, his cock filling you up in the way you’ve craved since he left your bed - even if you hated him for a while. You whimper and reach for his hand, gripping it as he starts to move inside you. “Love you too.” You promise, closing your eyes as you focus on him.

He starts slowly, not wanting to hurt you or the baby. He’s never fucked a pregnant woman before and he would be more uncertain except you are moaning your encouragement. Still, he doesn’t snap his hips like he would have, keeping the thrusts long and drawn out as he moves in and out of your body. Murmuring how perfect you are and how he has dreamed of this.

You moan, “feel so good, Pero.” You caress his forearm as he caresses your bump. You whimper as he rocks into you, slow and deep, and you turn your head to watch him as he thrusts into you. “I love you.” You murmur, kissing his jaw.

“I love you too.” He groans. “I prayed today. To St. Valentine. Praying that you would accept me. Let me be your husband.” He confesses, having spent so many years avoiding his faith, but he had wanted you too much to risk not praying to the saint of lovers.

You are surprised by that and your heart clenches at that confession. “He answered your prayers.” You smile, “and I’m so happy he did. I want to be your wife tomorrow and our child will be coming soon.”

“Our child.” He smiles, happy that you are carrying his child. “No one will doubt the child is mine.” He vows. “I will take care of you while you are recovering.” While he might not have had sex with a pregnant woman, he had been around them, and their babies when he was younger. He remembers that they needed loving care and it affected their health when they didn’t get it.

You love how he is promising your care and your heart flutters as you kiss his jaw. “I love you.” You promise him again, “you are going to be my husband. And a brilliant father.” You lift your leg a little higher.

He’s scared, probably more scared of failing than he was of the monsters in China. But for now, he slowly rocks into you. Touching you, kissing you. Eventually his fingers find your clit again as he thrusts. “Cum for me, esposa.” He groans in your ear as he rubs your clit.

“Fuck. You’re - it’s so good.” You moan, walls fluttering around his cock. He’s working you up, calloused fingers rubbing your clit, and you cry out moments later. Clamping down on his cock, you soak him and squeeze your eyes shut, “Pero. Oh fuck.” You gasp, thigh shaking in the air.

He groans, loving how you come apart for him. Kissing along your jaw while your cunt soaks his cock. He keeps working into you, so close himself that it only takes a few more thrusts before he is pushing deep. Flooding your walls with his seed. “Fuck, hermosa.” He hisses. “So perfect.”

**** 

“You bastard!” You curse Pero as you squeeze his hand. The pain makes you cry out as you try to push. Your wedding ring digs into his palm and your brow is covered in sweat.

He would chuckle but he hates seeing you in so much pain. “Sí, esposa.” He agrees, listening to the midwife huff as she hustles about the room. She had been annoyed that Pero insisted on staying with you while you fight to bring his child into the world. The tavern out front is empty, he had kicked everyone out when your first pains had been felt; although there is a crowd of people outside waiting for news. The entire village had apparently known you were pregnant and just kept their opinions to themselves. They liked you and they liked that Pero took care of you, your wedding solidifying their feelings. “I am a bastard for doing this to you, I will never touch you again, eh?”

You hiss as you bear down before you inhale deeply, trying to breathe through the pain as the midwife had instructed you. “Never. No matter how good you fuck me.” You pant out, squeezing his hand even harder as you scream, pushing again when the midwife is between your thighs and she grins, “there’s the head.”

“Our bebé, hermosa.” Pero twists his body, wanting to see and he swallows harshly when he sees the bloody crown of his child’s head between your legs. “Already beautiful.”

You pant, trying to catch your breath to prepare you for the next push. “Okay dearie. Let’s push again. On three. One…two…three.” She orders and you scream through gritted teeth, squeezing Pero’s hand to the point that he hisses in pain.

He knows you hurt, reaching for the rag again to wipe the sweat from your face when you finally relax again. “Almost there. You are doing good.” He grunts, although he has no idea if you actually are. He just wants to encourage you. “Get it over with, esposa. Hold your child.”

You growl at his demand, “fuck you, Tovar.” You hiss at him and he smirks, making you hiss in fury. The midwife watches on in shock at the way you speak to your husband but the insult works as the child slides free of your body. Your gasp of relief echoes in the room and moments later, your child’s cry fills the air. You sob, reaching for the babe.

Pero watches in wonder as the midwife brings the child up to your chest, still covered with blood and whatever else was involved with childbirth. He leans over the two of you, instantly in love. “It’s a girl?” He asks, not seeing a cock before the baby was wrapped up in softly blankets. “Yes.” You answer and the midwife wonders if Pero is upset, but the gruff mercenary just beams proudly. “Valentina.” He offers. “We should name her Valentina.”

You have tears running down your face as you look at the squawking baby. You stroke her cheek as she roots to find your nipple and you help her, in awe of her and totally in love. “Valentina.” You murmur, “after the day we finally confessed how we felt.” You look up at Pero and offer him a watery grin. “I love it. I love her. I love you.” You rush out, feeling so overwhelmed.

“I love you, esposa. Just like I love our baby girl.” He leans over and kisses your lips softly before pressing his lips to her now dry and wiped off head. “So tiny.” He worries, pulling back and watching in wonder. “Are you sure there is not another babe in her belly?” He demands to the midwife. “She was so large.”

You scoff and reach out to hit him, “you’re such a prick.” He chuckles and the midwife is surprised by your relationship but she can see how much you love each other. “You wouldn’t have me any other way, esposa.” He smirks and you roll your eyes, “no. I wouldn’t. Valentina and I are lucky to have you. Most of the time.” You tease and Pero huffs, leaning down to kiss you. “Pain in my ass.” He mutters against your lips and you smile, knowing that despite your bickering, you’ll be spending the rest of your life with him.

[watchnrant]

Is Violet a Descendant of the Brother Who Wielded the Sky? And What Does That Mean for Tairn, Andarna, and the Irid Dragons?

SPOILER WARNING

Alright, let’s break this down. We’ve known since Fourth Wing that Violet’s abilities—her instinctive, overwhelming connection to storm magic—aren’t just strong. They’re different. By the time Iron Flame rolled around, it became undeniable: Violet isn’t just powerful; she’s tied to something much older than we understand.

So, let’s revisit the Fables of the Barren. Specifically, the brother who wielded the sky. If Violet’s power stems from an ancient bloodline, could she be his direct descendant? And if so, what does that mean for her dragons?

Because, let’s be real—Tairn and Andarna aren’t normal either.

Tairn’s Connection to the Past

If Violet is connected to the sky-wielding brother, then what about Tairn? We already suspect that dragons carry their own lineages, much like riders. If Tairn is part of the same bloodline as the dragon who originally bonded to the sky-wielding brother, then his and Violet’s bond isn’t just powerful—it’s fated. A rekindling of an ancient connection that’s been buried for centuries.

But that still doesn’t explain Andarna.

The Truth About Andarna’s Origins

For two books, Andarna’s 650-year-old egg was a mystery. Why was she left behind? Why did she choose Violet? And why does her fire burn venin—something no other dragon has done?

Then, in Onyx Storm, we finally got answers.

Andarna isn’t just rare. She’s irid—one of the mysterious, long-lost seventh breed of dragons. But more than that, she was deliberately left behind.

When Violet and her squad track down the missing breed, they quickly realize the irid dragons weren’t lost. They were hiding. They had been following the squad undetected, using their natural camouflaging abilities until they chose to reveal themselves to Violet, Andarna, Tairn, and Ridoc (and his dragon, Aotrom).

That’s when the irids confirm what Andarna has always suspected—she is one of them.

Leothan, an irid dragon, even shares the same markings as Andarna, proving they are from the same den—they are family. But there’s a difference.

Andarna isn’t a feathertail like the rest of them. She’s a scorpiontail.

And that seemingly small detail? Turns out, it’s everything.

Irid Dragons: What Makes Them Different?

The irid dragons are unlike any other breed in Navarre.

They can camouflage—changing their colors or turning completely invisible.

They don’t use magic—they are magic.

They bend, shape, and break magic at will

That last part is huge.

When Andarna burned a venin to ash, she didn’t just breathe fire—she reshaped magic itself in that moment. That’s why no other dragon has been able to do the same.

Leothan explains this to Andarna:

“You are irid. You are magic. Bend it, shape it, break it as you see fit.”

Meaning Andarna didn’t even realize what she was doing. She instinctively rewrote the rules of magic to suit her needs.

And that makes her—and by extension, Violet—incredibly dangerous.

But here’s the problem: The other irids want nothing to do with the rest of dragonkind.

Why Did the Irids Leave Navarre?

Unlike Empyrean dragons, who fight to protect their own, irid dragons see war as beneath them. They withdrew from Navarre and hid away in a remote southern archipelago—so well hidden that their islands aren’t even on maps.

And there are hundreds of them.

They’ve thrived by avoiding battle, choosing instead to live in isolation, believing themselves to be the only “evolved” breed of dragon.

To them, the endless war between humans, venin, and dragons is proof that the other breeds are primitive, violent, and doomed.

Which brings us to Andarna.

Why Did the Irids Abandon Andarna?

When the irids finally meet Andarna, one of them calls her “the criterion.”

A criterion is a standard for judgment—which is exactly what Andarna was meant to be.

The irids left Andarna behind on purpose.

They wanted to see if she would grow up in human society and prove that humans were capable of peace. If she had returned to them as a reflection of wisdom and restraint, they would have taken it as evidence that humans had evolved.

Instead?

Andarna became a weapon.

She bonded with a human.

She fought in battle.

She killed.

Even her tail was weaponized.

To the irids, this meant humans had not changed at all.

And so, they rejected Andarna.

“You have weaponized your magic, even your tail. You’ve become the very thing we abhor, the horror we fled from.”

They saw her as corrupted, defective, and unworthy of learning their ways.

Why Did Leothan Change His Mind?

At first, the irids abandoned Andarna completely. But later, Leothan returned—breaking ranks—to help fire the wardstone at Tyrrendor and to train Andarna.

Why?

Was an exception made for her? Did he defy the other irids? Or is there something bigger at play?

What we do know is that the irids are not done. Their magic is capable of reshaping reality itself. And their decision to step away from the world may no longer be an option.

So What Does This All Mean?

Violet is likely a descendant of the brother who wielded the sky, which explains her raw, instinctive power.

Tairn may be tied to that same ancient bond, making their connection fated rather than random.

Andarna’s breed doesn’t just use magic—they are magic.

Andarna’s fire burned a venin because she reshaped magic to do so—something no other dragon has done.

The irids left Andarna behind to judge humanity—and they believe we failed.

Leothan’s choice to return raises huge questions about what’s coming next.

With everything we now know about the irids, Violet’s lineage, and the growing threat of the venin, one thing is certain:

This war is bigger than Navarre. It’s bigger than the riders. It’s bigger than dragons.

The irids can change everything—but whether they will remains to be seen.

So… what do we think? Did Leothan break rank? Will Andarna ever be accepted? And how much further can Violet push her magic before she reshapes more than just lightning?

[utilitycaster]

My friend has shared with me his dropout and i'm thinking of getting into the dimension 20s; do you have any ranking for them or recommendations? Any notes on the pitfalls or really cool things on any given series/dm's styles? I have to admit i've been a little hesitant to jump in, not just bc i was watching c3 but bc some of the d20 fandom discourse trickled onto my dash and for lack of a better term i "got the ick." I've resolved to myself that it shouldn't matter since i don't engage with dropout fandom anyway, and so we're currently watching mentopolis

Hey anon! So some quick thoughts:

You are correct to simply avoid the fandom, but also...the bad is very, very dumb and obnoxious, but the worst of that fandom skips half the series anyway. if it's not D&D they aren't showing up.

Mentopolis is a great series, great pick.

Of the Intrepid Heroes campaigns (Brennan GMing, cast of Emily Axford, Ally Beardsley, Siobhan Thompson, Lou Wilson, Zac Oyama, Brian Murphy) the only one I didn't care for was Neverafter. A loose ranking is that A Crown of Candy is I think the strongest, and then Fantasy High (3 seasons) vs. The Unsleeping City (2 seasons) are both good and it's just a matter of taste (i think fantasy high is a stronger story, unsleeping city is a stronger and more consistent world, characters are all great, and it mostly comes down to whether you do or do not want to watch a narrative about high schoolers, which is valid). I do like Starstruck Odyssey but it gets VERY chaotic, and I think it's only ranked lower than the previous two because it doesn't have as much time.

Of the sidequests run by Brennan, I am a huge fan of Escape from the Bloodkeep, Pirates of Leviathan and the Seven (both set in the same universe as Fantasy High but you can watch as standalone if you don't mind Fantasy High spoilers), Never Stop Blowing Up, and I haven't seen the latest Dungeons & Drag Queens but I did like the first one a lot.

Of the sidequests run by other GMs: Aabria Iyengar's A Court of Fey and Flowers, Jasmine Bhullar's Coffin Run, and Matt Mercer's Ravening War (ACOC universe prequel) are the strongest ones. I enjoyed Shriek Week at the time but unfortunately the GM turned out to not be a great guy. For more Aabria, Misfits and Magic season 1 was good but it did make me go "you know, I think I'm over the whole Harry Potter pastiche thing, even if this one is done very well" and so I didn't check out the second, but definitely give the first a try if you are interested! I did not personally like Burrow's End but it has a fantastic cast.

Similarly: wasn't a huge fan of Tiny Heist just bc D&D was not a good system for it; it is also a great cast. I feel similarly about Mice and Murder. I have not watched Time Quangle but that's a series of one-shots I think all with Intrepid Heroes characters.

[butchpeace]

I hope this gets to as many people as it can, don't care if it's TERFS or trans people.

From 2020-2023 (and the very start of 2024), I idenfied as trans, demiboy, transmale, nonbinary, and my feelings were very genuine. I didn't really relate the word "woman" to me, I didn't have a "feminine" behaviour, our "girl" insterests. It felt real to me. To add, I had a really complicated relationship with my body, I genuinely hated my breasts, I swear, I used to avoid any reflection of myself. And later on at develop a deep disgust to my own organ, thinking it was "weird" and that a penis would probably "feel" better.

To spoiler it all, I no longer identify as trans, nor these feelings that made me relate to this label. It was a weird process, "weird" means I don't know how I got out ot it, but I'm happy I did, and that's when I get troubled.

Very, very recently, I got "terfy", I don't know how to describe, but I've been getting lots of radfem posts on the bird app, and I can't fight but to deeply agree, sometimes even with the transphobic ones... which makes me feel bad because I do respect trans people and have simpathy, but at the same time I don't know what to do because it makes much sense what these radfems say.

I'm seventeen so please try to be patient 🥲 sorry for any english errors it's not my mother language. Please I want opnions.

Honestly, the reason you agree with “terf” ideas and opinions is that they’re right. Transition is never the right option. It’s bad for women and it’s bad for us to lose female-only spaces. It’s just feminism 💜

[thehollowwriter]

Hell yeah it's the Abyss magic rant

Just warning for like a tiny Book 7 spoiler regarding the magic in twst and bc translations are still a bit rough so take it with a pinch of salt, and also mentions of death and murder.

Apparently Book 7 talks a bit about where magic in twst came from, and apparently it came from a wish/intense desire. It's certainly very Disney for the magic in twst to come from hopes and dreams XD.

I always wanted Abyssal magic to be separate and different from twst's regular magic. It does not function the same, it does not come from the same place, and it is not cast in the sam way..

Abyssal magic requires drawing things, saying things, drawing from a particular source (blood a bone a ghost a corpse hell you can kill something and start doing it) because it thrives on death and decay and if you channel it with something like a plant that's still alive it will shrivel and rot.

Regular twst magic relies on you picturing what you want to happen and having a strong imagination (which actually makes the wish thing make sense ngl) pointing your pen and casting. You draw from around you (water, flora, fire, cosmic) but it doesn't kill anything because you are essentially making it yourself. Obviously there's then potions and that kinda stuff but I'm just focusing more on what seems to the """raw""" magic if that makes sense.

The Abyss is a place of hopeless agony and endless death and violence and is generally very separated from the rest of the world of twst. (It's like a Slaughter domain lol/ref)

To just clarify, the Abyss is not the entire midnight zone of the Coral Sea, it is simply a specific place (you could call it a huge trench I suppose) in the midnight zone that is below/in the Coral Sea but it is not considered part of it or part of any country. It used to be a mer country of its own though, like the Coral Sea (though not necessarily a wealthy or strong one), till it collapsed but that so so long ago that I doubt even the fae remember it. Perhaps Malleus' grandmother has a vague memory of it though.

Basically yeah the place is a hell hole where imagining about the future doesn't really get you anywhere. So you have to take to survive and kill others to avoid being killed yourself. You can't really dream and hope, you've just gotta wish for survival and do what you can to protect yourself.

I think if one form of magic can come from a hopeful wish, then another can come from a desperate fearful one. Regular magic came from hope and imagination and therefore requires imagination, abyssal magic came from the need to survive in a dog eat dog environment and therefore requires taking from others/killing things.

I think regular twst magic originally came from the raw form of cosmic magic (The evening star/the guide to Neverland ref anybody? Or just the Disney logo with the castle and star) hence why it seems to be the most powerful attack and why the most powerful main character (Malleus) has all cosmic spells for his dorm card.

Twst magic came from the heavens, basically, and Abyssal magic came from the pitch black darkness down below. Heaven and hell/jjj

I think it also works out well because iirc the best mages for regular twst magic have the strongest imagination (since natural power only takes you so far), so I think the best Abyssal magic users would have the strongest desire to survive and would be willing to sacrifice others to do that (like Emrys and Silas. I think Finn's abyssal magic is a little bit weak compared to them because of this) Silas' own magic that was dormant for about 9 years literally manifested cause he was terrified and about to get eaten and then it blasted some random mer's jaw off their face.

Obviously we've seen in twst that magical power can be passed on through blood, but I think Abyssal magic functions differently and you don't need to be born into a family that uses it to learn how to do it (however I think it would be incredibly difficult) and just because your parents were powerful doesn't mean you will be.

The vast difference between the two magics is why it's been so difficult for Silas to learn and master "regular" magic which in turn made it difficult for him to teach it to Finn and resulted in Finn being a bit behind when he arrived at NRC (it was easier for Morrigan cause well *gesures* he's Morrigan)

Then there's also the fact almost nobody has heard of Abyssal magic and most who have think it's just a myth from a time when those on land were very afraid of the creatures in the sea. Kinda hard to learn much about it. Especially since it's basically a dead/dying form of magic.

Tagging: @distant-velleity @br3adtoasty @rainesol @theleechyskrunkly @jovieinramshackle

@galaxies-and-gore @cyanide-latte @cynthinesia @officialdaydreamer00 @krenenbaker

@offorestsongs @kitwasnothere @elenauaurs @boopshoops @inotonline

@1dont-really-know @kazumify @minteasketches @elysia-nsimp @skrimpyskimpy

@casp1an-sea @offorestsongs @tixdixl @poisoned-pearls @the-trinket-witch

@ramshacklerumble @ghostiidasponk @thegoldencontracts @sillyslipperybananapeel @cloudcountry

@skriblee-ksk @twstinginthewind @lumdays @theolivetree123 @natsukishinomiyaswife

@authoruio @jewelulu @raguiras @moonyasnow @skibidibabygirl

@quartztwst @yuizenihaswriten @oya-oya-okay @kirans-wonderland @coffinkissez

@idikeis @s-t-y-x @minutewondertwist @random-twst-and-oc-stuff

[aizenat]

Why the ever loving FUCK would you tag season 2 shit in the arcane season one tag? I will not be interacting with this fandom whatsoever because you showed quickly and easily how fucking imbecilic and repugnant you wretches are by not having the fucking decency to tag your shit right.

Is this just how all fandoms are now? People being their worst versions of themselves, trying to figure out how to ruin things for anyone who isn’t a hyper online braindead loser?

[dykedvonte]

Curly not immediately punishing Jimmy for assaulting Anya is something I don’t think a lot of people are viewing in the complex context for Curly as the superior to both of them and closest confidante they had.

Like I am in no way saying he didn’t under react or fail Anya by not being harsh or direct with Jimmy but it really is the case that he really couldn’t. Imagine being stuck in such a confined space with very little areas to genuinely hold someone if they commit a crime. It’s not like this was an event that occurred before they departed or that they have easy communication with The Pony Express to ask for how to proceed when something like this arises. Not to mention, Jimmy’s relative power in relation to Anya as the co-pilot and second in command, he has the knowledge and access to do something to her had Curly directly punished him in this setting.

They were also Curly’s friends. It’s not just the case of him mediating something between his subordinates but people he is personally invested in don’t want to see spiral further in Anya’s case while also not wanting believe his friend go that bad in Jimmy’s actions. They were both suicidal and Curly putting Jimmy’s stability first is both out of bias but also the fact he’s aware at some level Jimmy is a danger to himself and others if not constantly placated. Combined with the fact he was in denial or just not piecing together what Anya said it’s hard to say what he buying time for and what he had treat as urgent. This isn’t even saying he doesn’t care about Anya but he’s not going jump to the worst conclusions about his friends even if part of him acknowledges the evidence saying so. It’s a complicated thing but he’s still human and needed to process it on top of trying to keep a ship that already took on a lot of water from further sinking, metaphorically.

I just personally think that while Curly failed Anya, it was a scenario where there wasn’t much he could do to the best thing by her safely and like Jimmy, we are underestimating what a good leader would do in a very fragile and tense situation like he was in. By the time he may have been ready and had a plan, things were much too late.

[vynnyal]

Finally finishing totk

[r0semultiverse]

Hey, Jake & Jack fans, is this anything?

Both men imprisoned (literal & metaphorical).

Both offered an out from their current predicament by an outside force (arguably in the case of Brain Ghost Dirk).

Both have loose ties to Lord English visually.

Yellow initial glow & Gamzee involvement too.

Sometimes a guy just needs to explode (same pose too).

Both dual wielding weapons.

That same said weapon type (for Jack Noir) having killed Jane Crocker.

It's really looking like Jake is going to do her in.

I would also like to point out that we've had interactions involving these three (Jane, Jake, and Brain Ghost Dirk) before that consisted of similar topics & themes.

Brain Ghost Dirk implying that he's just there as moral support, a manifestation of Jake's powers, and as a coping mechanism. Jane also talking about ruling an empire with him while talking down to him, similar to how she saw and/or still sees him in Beyond Canon's Candy timeline. Jake also being uncertain about doing anything to harm her despite all the bad things she's doing.

Brain Ghost Dirk going away tells us that Jake's more hopeful than he's ever been. This is the moment where he is the most sure of his decisions than he's ever been in his life, whatever those decisions may be in regards to Jane and how to handle this situation.

He is probably going to shoot Jane down, quite literally. I would also argue that after all this time, the lad isn't beating the Lord English allegations. We might as well have a parallel of him killing Jane much like how Jack Noir killed her right before he got possessed by Lil Cal & given some of Lord English's immense power.

Alternatively maybe we'll get to see what the power of hope or hope bullets can do to someone whose done so much wrong & come so far off the deep end in terms of moral wrongdoings. Maybe with every shot that hits her, she'll begin to be swayed to the side of good & start to self-reflect.

I'm still not fully convinced that Gamzee actually cured Tavros' peanut allergy, I mean just look at the panel.

This could absolutely be interpreted as Jake injecting his hope power into the epipen and by proxy injecting both his power & the epipen into his son! If younger Jake is strong enough to defeat Grimbark Jade, then adult Jake might just be strong enough to defeat a peanut allergy is all I'm saying! In fact, now that I'm rambling about it, this seems like the more likely outcome is Jake's hope power swaying or (in the very least) confusing Jane mid-fight. Hope bullets, they would look cool & would be pretty strong!

The power of believing in others & wanting things to change can be a strong tool indeed, Mister English.

If there's one person who still believes in changing Jane's mind (or bringing her back to proper canonicity depending on how you interpret the recent lore), it would be Jake English, the believer.

Okay, maybe this is something! Tally ho!

[1pcii]

S-Hawk in the astro boy 2003 school fit 😮!!

(no reposts please but reblogs are greatly appreciated!)

[oldmanyaoi-jpeg]

i haven't played this game, don't plan to, and am not part of the fandom, but from the secondhand fandom poisoning i'm getting it just seems like everyone is doing this i guess

[littlelightfish]

The hearts don't mean he is in love with no one. The problem with English is how vague of the word love is in his meaning. It envolves different kinds of caring in one single word. But I'll try to express here what I mean.

He cares, as a person, about everyone. This is a basic level of love that he haves towards everybody. He doesn't want anyone to actually die, that's what I mean. He doesn't necesarily cares about someone, but he loves them enough to not want them to die.

He starts befriending someone and gets to know it. He starts liking things about them and disliking others. He starts loving this people in another way, we'll call it liking. This is more a get-to-know phase he doesn't always like. The less he knows, the less reasons to get attached get attached he has. I think this are the kind of love the hearts show in the image. He has to make sure to keep a balance between how much he loves and how much he let's himself be loved. He doesn't want to have misunderstandings. He is in constant fear of "what if I made them love me more and they care more?"

And then it comes the deeply care that love is in the non-romantic way. This care a (good) parent has for his babies. The love that makes people suffer emotionally in an absolute different way from what it could be a heartbreak or a misunderstanding between friends. If something happens to the loved one, the pain is unbearable. It's one of the worst things rhat can happen. And Chilchuck knows this, he is father of three daughters, and his wife left him. She left, he knows the pain it is to come home and find it empty when there should be someone. He knows the guilt it comes with failing those loved ones. The shame. He doesn't like being this vulnerable. This love makes him suffer like no other does. So he is very very carefull of how much he allows himself to care about someone so he won't get to love like this.

He draws a line between work and private life because his private life envolves love and deep care, and he doesn't want to love nor care like this for people who's job is to constantly risk their lifes. He doesn't want to feel the anguish, he doesn't want to feel the loneliness it will come after the unenviable separation of the party.

He tries his best to not get attached to people. To not let people get attached to him. But he fails. He fails and falls downstairs with a whole drum set.

He can't help but to care about this people. He can't help but to love this people he's been living with the past few weeks in the risking of their lifes. He tells himself he's doing this for money and that he doesn't care, but he does.

Those hearts don't mean anything other than him caring about them. He cares about Senshi. He cares about Marcille. He cares about Laios. About Itsuzumi. About Namari. He cares in a way that hurts. He loves this people. He doesn't want to even imagine a world in where they are gone, or suffering, or in problems. They're his friends, they're something he, unwillingly, accepts as family.

He cares about Falin and Mickbell because he doesn't want them dead. He doesn't feel any anguish toward if they do or not get hurt after they're out of his sight. Sure, he cares, but he can live without thinking about them the rest of his days. It doesn't happen like that with Laios. He can't just simply let Laios go and follow Fallin just after he recover consciousness from a punch in the gut. Was it Mickbell, he would let him if he really didn't wanted. But Laios didn't wanted to sit and wait, and he had to care. He had to verbalize to himself that he cared. He had to let them know, so they would act accordingly. So they won't get themselves killed like idiots.

He doesn't want others to fall in romantic love with him. He doesn't feel romantic love towards anyone either. He isn't the man for this kind of love. He is, in fact, afraid of it. He doesn't want to fall in love, because he's still in love with his wife. She left him because he was negligent. But since when has this become the definitive stop for love? Chilchuck knows his wife is angry at him, and she has all the reason to be so! His husband, the one she loved and cared for, gets himself in dangerous situations, treats his body poorly and almost never is home. She loves him, and it hurts her to love like this, so she leaves. Like this she won't have to look at him get himself mistreated like he does. She would have the pull in her's stomach that tells her that he could be in great danger, that she could become a widow, but she tries to calm it with his daughter's mail to him. He could never. He can't imagine a world in wich they cease to exist. A world without his wife, even if she distanced herself, without his daughters, would be a world worthless of living. He knows this. Because he cares and he loves in such a deep level that he is scared of loving anyone else like this. To become so vulnerable to emotion. This vulnerable to something bad happening.

The fact that he is so afraid of loosing his wife, even after she left him, says a lot. He still cares about her. He is still in love with her. He wants to go back to what it was before, but he can't and he know its his fault. And he respects his wife's distance because he loves her. Now, he doesn't love her in the movie way, he isnt in love like a teenager would to his first girlfriend, he doesn't want to kiss her, or hug her, or be by her side at all moments of the day. He loves her. He cares about her deeply, deeply enough that he doesn't need to be by her side to care, to love. He also respects her. He can survive without her because he knows she's better with his daughter. For sure he wants to hug, kiss and be by the side of this person he loves, it would be ideal, but he can survive without thinking about it too much. It's just like with his daughters. They're all adults that now live far from him. And he is ok with it now. He sends mail and recieves mail, and even if he misses greatly, he can manage not to think about it. Because he knows she is allright. Because he knows he fucked up. He doesn't know where he fuked up, but for his wife to leave him, at least he knows he did. They never talked about it, because they both seem to have a problem in expressing themselves. She fell into a bad mood and then she disappeared. The amount of pain he must have felt it's... let's say it's quite big.

He keeps his guard up. He doesn't want to love deeply anyone. He doesn't want to feel the emptiness, the hurt, that comes after someone so dear leaves. He knows for a fact he'll be leaving this people. He knows that they could die. If he loves, it will hurt in a way nothing else hurts. He will miss. He doesn't like missing people he cares like this. This is why he doesn't want to love. This is why he doesn't want to be loved. This is why those hearts that are almost full are his main source of concern. This is why he makes the effort to keep this feelings at bay, to love only in the friendly way and with extreme caution.

But he can't controll his own love. And he ends up caring more and more about these people. He slowly makes him a part of the dangerous love zone that family means. He is afraid to confuse someone about his feelings towards them, so he still tries to maintain distance with his abusive remarks, but this only works so far. He loves and is loved. And because of this he will suffer.

I... I extended myself a bit I see...

[intuitive-revelations]

Hmmm....

Thematically i kind of liked that.

But man that plot was... not good.