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wardenparker · 20 days ago

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Baked in Soulmates

Pero Tovar x plus size reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 14.5k Warnings: Fluff, random historical factoids, flirting, grumpy-sunshine dynamic, discussion of past lovers/lives, talking about sex, food/alcohol consumption, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex. Summary: After having a premonition about him many decades ago, Peor Tovar finally walks into your bakery and turns your world inside out. Notes: Inspired by and based upon The Smell of Fresh Bread - a Writer Wednesday that Keri did some time ago, which has long been one of my favorite Pero pieces ever. It's a great way to bring Spooktober to an end! 🧡 As always, I apologize for any errors I might have missed in proofreading.

It was a rare day that saw you sitting at the table in the staff sitting room with nothing to do, and today unfortunately was no exception. While the cook took her time with the menus and the pantry and fussing at the scullery maids, you put in the long and diligent hours of a baker all for the benefit of this one great house.

It worked well for you, or at least it had in the past, to come into a large house like this and cook here for as many years as you can remain inconspicuous before finding an excuse to move on. It's easier that way. There are fewer explanations to give.

At least in this house there are more like you.

Kneading the dough for buns that will be studded with dried fruit and candied peel to be slathered with butter at tea, you hum quietly to yourself and focus on the rhythm of the work. Baking has been your steady companion through every lifetime you've lived and every country you've passed through, keeping you steady even when your magic became erratic or the treacherous uphill march of immortality weighed too heavily on your shoulders. A soft hum and the steady pace of kneading dough will keep you moving forward. They always have before.

“Ohhhh they are wanting their tea early.” Sally comes bursting into the kitchen, flustered and annoyed. “They are wanting it at three instead of four.” She huffs as she rushes over to the large cabinet. “And the mister wants another cup of coffee now that he has let the last one get too cold.”

"And he'll not perish during the five minutes that it takes to make," you hum pleasantly, not looking up from your work. The young housemaid seems always to be in a tizzy and you're far too old at this point to get worked up about anything so generally small. "Tea at three is just fine. Everything will be ready in time."

“Are you sure?” She hates when they change things around, believing that the house should run like a clock and it shouldn’t change.

"I will work a little faster, that is all." And there may be a dash of magic in the teacakes if necessary, just to make sure they rise in time. The family need never know.

“You are magical.” She heaves a sigh of relief, always put at ease by your unflappability. “It is always when he decides to come home.”

“If I had a shilling for every time a man made plans needlessly complicated, I would be rich as Croesus,” you hum, almost dismissively, but laugh to put Sally at ease. The fact is, you are fairly rich. But the wealth accumulated over centuries of immortality must be carefully parceled out. “There is no need to get worked up just because the master is in a tizzy.”

“You are right.” She sighs again and rolls her shoulders as she waits for the pot to boil. “As you usually are.”

“With age comes wisdom, my dear.” Though you look no older than thirty, the young housemaid has no idea how much wisdom you truly have.

“I suppose that is true.” She huffs slightly and starts to set up the sugar and milk for the coffee.

Down the hall, the servants’ door opens, letting in a gust of autumn wind that carries the scent of crisp leaves and the apple trees in the garden. It wafts in the scent of the wood fire from the next room over and picking up the muted notes of lingering from the cup of tea you had made for yourself which is now growing cold on the work table nearby.

It also carries, somehow, the crisp, atmospheric smell of stardust.

And within seconds your mind is engulfed with entirely another scene altogether.

Cardamom, cinnamon and rosemary scent the air along with the yeasty smell of fresh bread. A man opens the door. Dark, scarred with eyes that are brooding and seemingly holding a thousand years worth of secrets. Even in the unfamiliar and very informal dress, his stance is one of a solider. This is a man who has seen war and is on guard from unseen enemies lurking around every corner. Dark hair, short and practical, is unstyled and accompanied by facial hair that is not in fashion during this time. “Buenas—”

An entirely different, sharp and acidic, unpleasant smell pulls you from the vision. In just a moment you've gone from standing at your work table to lying on the stone floor of the kitchen, with Sally wailing and fretting in the background and the caretaker kneeling over you with a stern frown painted on his face.

Smelling salts have been useful for centuries, but that does not mean the smell of them has improved any.

"I'm alright." Your voice is hoarse though, and weak, and the man looks less than impressed. Under the cover of Sally's wails, you are able to murmur the truth to the warlock surveying you for injury. "It was a vision. I'm alright."

“A vision?” He frowns and helps you sit up. “Do you need to go to your room to write it down?” He asks quietly.

"I ought to." You nod, scrubbing your temples with your fingers and feeling them sticky against your skin. "But the dough..." That dough needs to be finished kneading and rested if tea is going to be served early today.

“I can finish it.” You have shown him how many times and he knows how important it is to write down specifics while they are fresh in your mind.

"Cover it in the bowl and put it by the stove when you're done?" It's no small thing to offer to finish your chore for you, and you're grateful for the kindness. "I'll just go and freshen up," you say a little louder, hoping to quell some of Sally's vocal worrying with reassurance.

Helping you to your feet, he snorts and waves Sally away. “Take the coffee where it belongs.” He orders, even though he had no authority in the house, he is tired of listening to her caterwauling.

“Thank you.” Touching his arm gently, you give the man a nod. “I’ll be back in a few moments.”

Smirking slightly, he sweeps his cap off his head and bows. “Anything for you, my lady.” He intones playfully and winks at you before turning to take an extra apron off the hook and wash his hands.

******

Life in that house was good. The family was reasonably kind, they paid as well as they could, and the company you had kept then was amiable. The caretaker had been kind enough and gentle enough that when he had confessed love for you, you had gone to his arms and to his bed for more years than you had expected. But as always, you had needed to move on.

Sometime in the early 1950s you had made it back to America for the second time, and found work in a bakery in the North End of the city run by an Italian family. The focaccia you made there was different than the type the cobbler's wife in Rome had taught you to make, but only out of necessity. That cobbler's wife and that Rome were nearly six hundred years gone by then.

Here, you told the family employing you that you were a widow and supplied stories of the caretaker whenever pressed for details of your late husband. They assumed that he had died in the war. You did not contradict them.

And then one day the scent of warm spices and a new vision of the dark man with his scared eye came to you, and you learned his name.

Pero Tovar.

******

The bell above the door tinkles, letting you know that someone has come in. A necessity when you are so often in the back with your ovens. “Buenas Dias.” Pero has learned that manners are necessary in this time, if you want to have people not refuse your coin. Even if it is a small plastic card. “I need a loaf of whatever smells so good.” He grunts, slapping his card down on the counter, belly rumbling.

The visions had not many sense for many years. Of course the familiarity of a bakery was something you could understand. A customer. A sale. But the little rectangle in his hand did not begin to make sense until plastic and credit cards became realities. But all the visions of your past had eventually come true, so the faith you have in your magic had brought you to today. To the loaves of bread leaving your oven and being set lovingly on wire racks. The lingering, mingling smells of cardamom, cinnamon, rosemary, and yeast mixing with autumn air and your customary tea.

To the man walking through the door of your shop.

The loaf you had handed him in your second vision was what most bakers called artisan now. An old world thing with wheat germ and oats and none of the processed white flour that was most popular in the modern world. This was bread that smelled of dirt-floored cottages and honey – more precious than gold – being stored in clay pots and bargained over. This bread smells of home, and through your vision you had felt the same would be true for him.

So you took it from your racks and savored the scent, placing it on a trencher with jam and butter, and handed it to him to enjoy. When he tried to pay, you only gently refused. "For you, Pero Tovar, there is no charge." You tell him, enjoying a private smile and his shock all at once. "Eat and remember."

“How do you know my name?” Pero had been drawn here by the smells of the past. The scent of time forgotten. Pulling from him the core memories that have almost been forgotten until they are recalled. Sitting unused and dusty like a book on an abandoned library shelf. In the time he came from, books were more rare than gold, now people carelessly toss them aside when they don’t care for the words written inside them.

"I have known your name for a long time." You can't say just how long. Not yet. There are still many things to learn about the man from your visions. "Sit," you encourage, nudging the plate toward him again. "Remember. Enjoy."

He doesn’t question you, he doesn’t attack you. Despite this time’s view on weapons, Pero still does not walk around unarmed. He could have a knife at your throat in an instant. Instead, he sits at a small table and tears apart the bread with his hands like he would have when he was on his first set of years.

It is a satisfying sight, you have to admit that much. Raw enthusiasm is in short supply in this modern age. To see someone devour the food that you prepare is an enormous part of why you have continued to bake century after century. In continues to be a challenge to feed all of the hungry people in the world, but you do your part. And this one man is included in that number.

For more than a century, this man's face has held a place in your mind, so you stop at his table to put a cup of coffee at his place as well. Let him enjoy himself, you think, and offer him a smile when you put down the mug.

Pero pauses, glancing up at you and then back down at the steaming cup of coffee. “Gracias.” He murmurs after a moment and picks it up. It doesn’t appear to have all the sweet creams and syrups that they have in this era and for some reason, he’s disappointed by that. Although it would be more than what he had drank when he was riding towards the East and selling his sword.

"Come back after sunset," you tell him, and walk away again to greet the new customers who have come through the door.

He frowns at the comment, wondering what he will need to come back for. How you know his name, he had checked his credit card. The name is on the back, so you didn’t get it from there. He is suspicious, but that just means he will come back.

******

It’s not that your shop strictly closes at sunset, but as the proprietor and only employee, you have the luxury of making your day what you like. From sunrise to sunset you sell breads and sweets and coffee and tea to your customers, and luxuriate in the ability to do as you please. If someone upsets you or is rude? You can simply turn them away. If they are kind and lovely? They can have their treats for free. The only person keeping track is you.

Tonight, like every night, you bundle up your unsold things to be picked up by the young lady who works for the village, and she distributes them amongst the poor and the hungry at night as she makes sure that each and every one has a roof over their head and a warm place to sleep. This, you have already decided, is the person from this life you will be leaving a great deal of money to when you must disappear and move on. You always choose one, and this time it will be her.

It is in this state, humming yourself as you load up paper bags with bread at the end of the day, that Pero Tovar finds you once more.

This time, the bell does not alert you to his presence, he had manage to slip inside without disturbing it. “How do you know my name?” He asks, watching as you look up from your task.

“Good evening, Señor Tovar,” you murmur politely, undisturbed and unperturbed when you look up.

It makes him frown even more when you aren’t surprised by his presence. “You seem to know me, but I would remember meeting you.”

“Would you?” That is what surprises you, and you look up to find him watching you carefully.

He doesn’t know what game you are playing, but he is starting to get frustrated. “Who are you?” He demands again.

You supply your first name easily enough, and finish depositing the bread loaves and sweets into bags. Everything except the small white cardboard box on your counter. That is marked with his name and tied up in string. “I’m like you are.” You tell him calmly.

He highly doubts that. “A bastard?” He snorts, purposefully misunderstanding. “You seem too sweet for that.”

“Actually?” You chuckle a little. “Yes. I am. But I meant that I am older than I look. As you are.”

"I'm thirty-eight." At least that's what it says on his driver's license. This lifetime at least. "Do you think you know me from somewhere?" He demands, wondering what you are playing at.

“I would sooner believe you to be five hundred and thirty-eight.” Your visions never specified too much about him, but the aura of magic he held around him had some of the same hallmarks as yours. Namely, enchantments and immortality. “We have never met, but I have seen you before.”

His jaw tightens and Pero growls dangerously, stepping closer to you. "You are mad, witch." He hisses, shaken to his very core that you might know of his plight even though he much older than your claim.

“Perhaps.” You actually laugh a little. “But at least you are right about one thing. I am a witch.”

That confuses him, making him furrow his brow together and frown. Looking around the kitchen to see if there something to explain all of this.

“Come and sit down.” That feels like the right thing to do, and you motion to one of the tables close by. “If you would like me to, I will tell you what I know.”

He watches you for a moment, gauging you before he moves over to the table and pulls out a chair and sits.

"You know that magic is real." Coming to sit down with him, you bring two cups of coffee to give you both something to do with your hands. He had frowned at his cup earlier when you set it down, so this time you had added a touch of caramel and vanilla to the hot steamed milk to see if he liked that better. "We have both been touched by it in different ways. But both of us have been given immortality. Whether that is a blessing or a curse depends on the day."

“How old are you?” He demands after a moment, leaning over and staring at you with an intensity that would make a mere mortal uneasy.

"That would be a rude question to ask a lady in any century, but fortunately for you it is a moot point." An amused smile curls your lips as you sit back and sip your coffee. "I do not know. When I was born they did not keep track of birthdays so studiously."

“What is the earliest century you remember?” He asks instead, aware that it is only because of his own parents he had been aware of his age before his trip to the Wall.

Thinking back as much as you can, you sip your coffee in silent thought for long moments before finally being able to answer. "I remember the news that Charlamagne had been crowned emperor." You tell him. "I was a child, and a messenger came to our village. But life went on as usual, unaffected by the change in man who supposedly ruled us."

“How did you come to live this long then?” You are older than he is, but a good four hundred years. His eyes are wide and curious, never meeting another than has been cursed with walking the earth without end.

"I tended to a dying witch," you tell him, sitting forward again at the table with your cup in your hands. "She was very powerful. The woman who taught us all and who raised us up to the goddess. It was an honor to tend to her even in her painful last moments. And she blessed each of us with a gift. The other girls were older than me. One she wished eternal kindness on, that she and her family would always be good to each other. To the other she gave an endless curiosity of spirit. That girl died within the year from eating things she should not, which I do not think was the intention of the gift." You shrug slightly, having thought of these other girls so often that it no longer brings you sadness to think of them so long ago. "When it came time to give me a blessing, she was in the throes of more pain, and she wished to the goddess that I should never know the pain of death that she endured in that moment."

“So you never find the peace of eternal slumber.” Pero leans back, still confused as to how you could have known about him. His own existence is a curiosity that he has never been able to explain despite the theories. Witches no longer hold the same fear that they might have centuries ago. He has seen too many gods and people fall through the ages.

“I understand it is possible.” But you shrug your shoulders. “But it would require enchanted items that seem to no longer exist.”

Pero nods. “So how do you know about me?” He asks. “Have you been watching me?” He thought he had been more careful. It was hard to cover his tracks with the scar on his face, but he had used prosthetics a few of the lives he has lived and explains the scarring away as the boons of war. He had tried hard to keep from being photographed, but now it was impossible.

"No." You sip your coffee again and nudge his cup toward him, encouraging him to do the same. "I have visions. And I had some of you."

“Visions?” In his entire life, Pero Tovar has never had a vision. He has memories, often coming to him while he sleeps in the form of dreams - or nightmares, but never visions. He picks up the cup and examines it for a moment before taking a sip and his eyes light up in delight at the sweetness.

Sweet things for this man, apparently. That will be easy enough to achieve. "My senses tingle. Smells become more acute and I can hear the songs in the wind. Then my mind's eye fogs over and I see..." Describing this is easier now, since the advent of new technologies. "As though I were watching a film, made from my own point of view. I see the future."

“So you saw me walk into your shop.” Pero reasons. “Any knowing my name?”

"The older I get, the more intense my visions are," you explain. "Centuries ago, they were more frequent and far less detailed. Now? I will rarely have more than one every few decades. But they are much more intense. More detailed. They instill knowledge in me instead of simply showing me an image."

Pero cannot say that he would envy a gift like that. It would put him on edge more than he normally is. “Why would you have visions of me?” He questions that part, taking another sip of his coffee.

“That,” you tell him, having the last sip of your coffee. “Is what I do not know.”

Your answer simultaneously makes him unease and relaxes him at the same time. Unsure of why he believes you, but he does. “I don’t know why I still walk the earth.” He admits quietly. “I had long believed it to be because of the Tao Tei, but no one else from those battles still roam.”

“Tao Tei?” The term isn’t one you’re familiar with, which is surprising. You’re familiar with quite a lot.

He looks out the window the modern streets and huffs to himself slightly. “Demons, aliens, monsters.” He shakes his head. “I still don’t know exactly what they are, but they were ferocious.”

“So they were creatures.” At that, you nod again and lean forward on the table. “That is most likely why I have not heard of them. Unless you can eat them or milk them I have had little interest. My many lifetimes have been spent mostly in a bustling kitchen.”

"They were in the far East. The Nameless order worked hard to keep word of them from spreading." Pero explains. "It is not like now. The word traveled so much slower than now."

“I miss it,” you admit without shame. “Things are so fleeting these days.”

"Some days I would have talked to no one but my horse.” Pero snorts, “now having a horse is rare.”

“I do like my bicycle.” That makes you grin. The bicycle you had bought while living in Boston in the 1950s is vintage now, but you learned to repair and care for it yourself. The basket on the front was long ago replaced with one of your own making as well. “But horses are wonderful companions.”

"So you have just been waiting for me to show up?" He asks, still trying to wrap his head around the idea that you know him. Even if this is the first real conversation you have had.

“More or less.” You agree. “Since 1909. Or really, since I bought this shop. I walked in the front door here about ten years ago and realized it was the bakery from the visions, so I got a job here and bought it when the previous owners decided to retire.”

He nods and looks around. “Looks like it is a nice place to live one of the many lives we experience.” He compliments. “Have you always been a baker?”

"Most of the time." He is entirely right. The two of you have lived countless lifetimes. Endless choices of where to go and who to be. But you have mostly kept to what makes you happy. "In different parts of the world, in different ways, and always learning new things. Have you always been a warrior?"

“Always.” He nods. “Although it is harder to do these days.” He admits. “Private security is more about using technology now than brute skill.”

"I imagine your sword is in far less demand these days." In fact you can't think of a single way he could use it outside of sport and discipline, which is a shame. A talented swordsman is a gloriously indulgent sight to watch. "Have you tried any of the new martial arts?"

He sighs, “all of them.” He admits. “But the MMA shit is boring.”

"Pobrecito," you tease, chuckling a little at his dismay. "You should fight fires, then. Use your strength and immortality for something valiant. Just to try it out."

“Fires.” He snorts and shakes his head. “I will scare the little girls hiding under their beds while the wallpaper burns.”

"Or inspire beautiful women to open their legs in gratitude." Standing from the table, you take the two empty coffee cups and round the nearby counter to rinse them and set them in the dishwasher.

“I have not taken a wife in many years.” Pero admits, looking down at his hands. “I do not wish to bury another.”

"Surely that does not mean you cannot enjoy a warm bed from time to time?" When you reemerge from behind the counter, you sit down again, sensing that there is plenty more talk to be had. "The last time I married was 1810, but that has not kept me from pleasure."

He chuckles. “I did not say that.” You have a modern take for one so old, but he doesn’t mind that. “It is hard to not feel dirty.” He snorts. “They are all so young.”

"Well that is true enough." And well worth sharing a laugh over. For there are very few in the world as old as the two of you. "There is not much to be done about an equal age, though. The community of immortals in the world is quite small, and always on the move. For reasons you understand all too well."

“Community?” Pero frowns, his head jerking up and he looks at you in confusion. “There are more?”

"I have met thirteen others, over the centuries." You tell him, nodding. "Mostly witches or warlocks, but also some who were enchanted at random, like you were. Mostly we acknowledge each other, share a few stories, and then go our separate ways."

“You are the first I have met.” Pero tells you. “I have always believed I was alone.” It had been a lonely existence, but he had felt like it was his punishment, or reward, for what happened at that wall. Although he could never explain why William lived out his life as expected and died an old man.

"There are many theories. About what could eventually kill us, or what can weaken us." Theories that you had been over time and time again with the few other immortals that you had come across. "Apparently it is possible for us to die. But...not easy."

“You mean being stabbed, blown up, crashing, or drowning would not do it?” He asks sarcastically, ticking off the ways he should have died many times over. He had come out with little more than a scratch.

"Apparently." Your head cocks to one side, wondering how he will take this. "It is more like a fairy story. Where true love restores us to our mortality."

Pero chuckles. “I have loved many times, bruja.” He reminds you. “Yet there is still no grey in my hair or beard.”

"True love." You correct him. "Not just love. I have loved more times than I can count. Endless, depths of the oceans of love. But supposedly the truest love our hearts can feel...that is what is supposed to do it."

Pero frowns, digesting your words and trying to understand them. “You are speaking of soulmates.” He murmurs. “Those do not exist.”

"Until today, you believed you were the lone immortal in the world." The reminder is stark, but not unkind. "Who is to say soulmates do not also exist?"

Pero sighs and nods, having to concede that fact. “You are right.” He grunts. “But if I had not found them in nine hundred years, then I fear I have none.” He smirks and huffs to himself. “My soul is long rotten.”

"Perhaps. Or perhaps not." There is really no way to know. No way to open up one's heart or soul and read the name written there in destiny's hand. "I suppose we can only wait and see."

He shakes his head and stands. “Then I guess that your vision has been fulfilled.” He feels oddly disheartened by that, but his face is set.

"Has it?" You do not rise from your seat, but watch him intently. "My vision could have had any of ten thousand meanings. But all I know is that we were destined to meet. I should hate for it to only be one time."

“Perhaps it will not be.” Pero nods to you and then glances at the door. “The darkness settles.” He reminds you. “You should go home, bruja.”

"Come again at closing time, if you would like to talk more." This time you do rise from the table. There are bags to gather and things to distribute to the needy. "I am always here. In this lifetime, anyway."

Pero nods and he’s unsure if he should offer to walk you home, but he reasons that you have been taking care of yourself for far longer than any other woman walking alone at night. “Gracias.” He murmurs before he disappears through the door as silently as he came.

“Buenas noches,” you murmur to his back, watching the swift and sleek way he retreats. Pero Tovar must have been an admirable opponent in his warring days.

*****

It takes an entire week for Pero to come back. He had been purposely avoiding that side of the village so he didn’t drop in. Doing research and trying to learn everything he can about you. Your digital footprint is good and the way you have set up your ‘lives’ is admirable. Now he wants to talk to you again.

His stealth is admirable, but you catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye as you wipe down the counters. The last guest has left for the night and the village girl has come and gone for the bags of leftovers already. “Good evening, Pero Tovar.”

He almost asks how you knew he was here, but he doesn’t. Instead, he steps closer to you. “You have lived under the radar.” He says. “It was hard to find your trail at first.”

“But you have been successful now?” Finishing up your cleaning, you take your apron off and toss it in the small hamper you keep under the counter to accumulate washing. Every few days you take your towels and aprons home from the bakery to wash and dry at home. The ritual is soothing.

“As far back as 1841.” He admits. “The trail is harder to follow any farther back. Records are not as good from before as they are now.”

"1841..." You think back, trying to remember where you were an who you were then. "That was...Greece, wasn't it? Did you find employment records from the hotel?"

“Your marriage record.” Pero shakes his head. “But before then, it seems like you had just arrived from somewhere else.”

"From here," you tell him, smiling nostalgically. "From Spain. I was living in a fishing village on the Portuguese border. I met a Greek merchant who begged me to come away with him and..." Trailing off, you shrug your shoulders a little but never stop smiling. "It sounded like a grand, romantic adventure. Cristos was a good man, and I worked at a hotel in the islands for a long time."

Your voice takes on a soft, dreamy quality and for a moment, Pero is jealous of the Cristos you speak of. It must have been a grand romance. “I was in America during that time.”

"Oh?" You're interested in anything he is willing to share about himself. Unlike him, you did not go digging into his past. More hopeful that he would return to share with you when he was ready. "What did you do there?"

“Went west.” He had found the rough and Wild West fascinating and had enjoyed the hard journey. Remembering vividly blazing that trail to the East, so it was only fitting that he also went West.

"You were a cowboy." That image of him is actually fairly charming, morphing the smile on your lips slightly but not at all dimming it. "It must have been easy to blend in. With so many Spanish speakers all over the west back then."

“The language has changed so much over the years.” He snorts, knowing you are well aware of that fact. “There were a lot of Germans there too.”

"Did you sell your sword there as well?" It would have been guns by that point, far more often than swords, but your question is the same. Was he a warrior in that time too?

“Homesteader.” Pero shakes his head. “Started a ranch. But there was plenty of gunfights.”

"You actually settled down?" That surprises you, but you nod. It's impressive that a man so restless seems to have found moments of tranquility in this long life. "That must have been a welcome change."

“It was nice.” Pero frowns slightly, remembering the last wife he had taken. He had buried her on that ranch. Her and the baby who had also died in childbirth. “It wasn’t going to last though.”

"Not everything does," you say, but before you can stop yourself, you chuckle a little. "Except us."

“The only good thing is that I’ve not started aching like people complain about as they grow old.” Pero rolls his eyes. “Besides the normal middle-aged aches.”

You laugh again. "I count it as one of my truest blessings that I was given my immortality before the aches and pains set in."

“And that bone cracking doctor is amazing.” Pero groans, rolling his eyes slightly. “In my original time, he would have had all the riches in the world riding with a group.”

"A chiropractor?" Once again, your laugh rings through the shop. He is straight forward and honest, despite being suspicious and grumpy, and it makes you smile unexpectedly. "I would not have thought of that myself, but you're perfectly right."

He likes the sound of your laugh, his own grin quick and broad before his face slides back into that normally fearsome set. “I know I am.”

Letting your laughter linger in the air, you lean on the counter between you and consider him. The things you have wondered in the last week - and in the century before that - are running wild in your mind again. "I'm glad you came back."

“Not sure why.” He steps closer and tilts his head. “For you or for me.”

“Handsome and hungry,” you tell him with another laugh. “That’s my favorite kind of man.”

He lifts a brow, surprised that you would find him handsome. “Your bread is very good.” He admits. “I might have dreamed about it.”

“If you think my bread is good,” you hum, tucking a pleased smile into the corner of your mouth. “You should try my pastries.”

He glances towards the empty cases. “I will have to try them sometime.” He is hungry, but it seems like that has something that has never gone away despite the availability of food now compared to in the past.

“Or…” Noticing the expression on his lips and the hunger in his eyes, you tilt your head. “Have you eaten dinner yet?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I was going to find food and I ended up here.” He had been trying to avoid coming to you for another day, but his feet had other ideas.

“We could…eat together?”

He obviously hadn’t thought about that, but it doesn’t sound bad. Often he eat alone and it would be nice to have someone sitting across from him. Perhaps a beautiful woman would help others not be so wary of him.

“Tovar?” Brooding and silent seems to be his way, but you asked a question that deserves an answer.

“What?” He frowns in confusion and realizes that he has not answered you. “Sí.” He nods. “Yes. What do you want to eat?”

“Do you like seafood?” You had made friends with a family that runs a restaurant on the nearby cliff overlooking the ocean. It is beautiful and the food is stunning. “I know a place.”

“I like food.” Pero jokes dryly, smirking slightly when you grin.

“We can walk.” Motioning toward the door, you excuse yourself for just long enough to disappear, grab your purse, and reappear again.

Pero watches as you step outside the shop after him and carefully locks up. Silently guarding you even though he’s not needed in that capacity.

“Down to the cliffs.” You tell him, wondering if he is accompanying you out of curiosity or out of boredom. Either way, it’s at least nice to spend time with someone like you. “This way.” Almost as soon as you say it, you head out through the village streets toward the promise of a warm meal and a cold drink.

Pero isn’t familiar with the town, if he’s honest. He doesn’t explore much, but he watches as you confidently saunter off down the road.

The walk takes only a few minutes, but when you arrive it is to the comforting smells of fresh food and the warmth of friendly smiles. You ask to be seated outside, enjoying the last sunset and thanking the owner when she lights the candle on your table to ward off the nighttime despite there being plenty of other light sources nearby. Your table on the edge of the patio is away from the others, giving you privacy to talk, and you have a feeling the owner might have mistakenly believed you to be on a date this evening.

Pero chooses the seat that gives him the view of the patio and anyone approaching, but he’s not so unmannered that he doesn’t pull out your chair for you, even if he doesn’t wait for you to sit to walk around to his own.

“The women these days must think you’re very gallant.” Gallant and grumpy, you think to yourself, smiling again. That is surely how his latest conquests describe him.

He rolls his eyes and huffs as he sits down, watching the movement behind you before he picks up the napkin and drops it in his lap. “Don’t know.” He admits. “I never ask.”

“Not out for romantic companionship in this lifetime?” Even if it’s not marriage, having a companion is always possible.

"I've had one." Pero shrugs slightly. "She wanted kids and I cannot give them to her."

“Cannot or will not?” It is a bold question, you admit, but immortality does not take away a person’s ability to have children. Not as far as you know, anyway.

"It is the same answer." Pero shrugs. "I would not want to watch my child grow old and die. I could not bear it. Not after losing -" He sighs. "It is better that I not populate the earth."

“People like us…we lose everyone eventually.” That is an unavoidable truth, though also undesirable. “I’m sorry for the ones you lost.”

"You have lost others too." He points out, glancing at the waiter when he pours out wine and he lifts a brow. "Come here enough they know what you drink?" He asks you.

“Yes.” There is no shame in that, and you thank the waiter with a smile. “Do you know what you want to eat?” You ask Pero, though neither of you has looked at the menu very much.

"Food." He snorts, and looks around at the other tables as if he can just pick something from their plates that looks good. "What do you get?"

“Either the grilled octopus or the spicy bacalao.” Over the centuries you have tried almost every kind of food possible. Seafood dishes truly are some of your favourites, though. “Or scallops. Really, everything is good here.”

He grunts and nods. “Sounds good.” He does open the menu to read through the options. It’s amusing that when he was riding with William, he could not read, now he reads in multiple languages. Including Chinese. Knowing the language would have been helpful back then.

The waiter departs to give you time to decide, and when he returns a few minutes later you order your usual octopus and Pero opts for a prawns dish that sounded good to him. It leaves you alone together again at your table to look out over the ocean and you sigh happily at the comforting scent of salt air.

You like it here, that is obvious and Pero stares as you unabashedly, curious to your thoughts.

"What is it you want to ask me?" There must be something. You are no longer so insecure that you would be confused as to why a man would stare at you. There is nothing on your face. No food stuck in your teeth. He is simply curious.

“You do not feel it?” Pero asks finally, unable to refrain. “You seem so relaxed.”

"I do feel relaxed," you agree, smiling as the wind wraps around your shoulders. A hug from the earth that you happily appreciate. "People and places come and go, but the wind and the ocean? They are as permanent as we are."

Pero frowns and leans back, unable to understand why you would not feel it. He looks around and sighs before he picks up his wine glass.

"You pout when you don't get your way." The observation makes you hum in amusement. In some ways even this man with his hundreds of years is still very much a boy. "What ought I to be feeling, Tovar?"

“I do not pout.” He grumbles. “You really do not feel the vibration in the air? The pull?” He doesn’t understand it, but he does feel it. He’s drawn to you. “It feels like the air is dancing right now.” It makes him uneasy because the only time he’s ever felt that was when he was in danger but there is no danger here. Confusing him even more.

"Like...electricity." You nod slightly, but tilt your head slightly as you look at him. "I thought that was simply my magic. But if you can feel it too..." Truthfully, you had thought it was your magic's response to your intense attraction to him. But if he can feel it too, it must be much more than that.

“So you do feel it?” He leans in, eyes wide. “It is your magic then? You are that powerful? You pulled me to you?”

"If it is my magic..." Shifting forward in your seat slightly lets you talk a little more freely. Even at a table that is slightly isolated you have lived through too many witch hunts to simply go around shouting about magic. "Then it is doing something I have never felt before."

That makes him frown even more. If you don’t know what it is doing, he has no hope of having the question answered. “If?” He catches that. “What else could it be?”

"Are you sure you want the answer to that?" He will not believe you, you can predict that now. That the other thing you could liken this feeling to is one that was described to you three centuries ago by a couple in the islands of the Caribbean.

He rolls his eyes and purses his lips. “I wouldn’t have asked the question.” He reminds you.

"Fine then." You wave one hand as if to say he asked for it. "I have heard of this sensation once before. Centuries ago. From a pair of soulmates."

Brows pulling together, he takes his time to connect what you are saying. Then the dark orbs are blowing wide and he jerks back to look around quickly again. “You are saying—?”

"It is possible." Anything in the world is possible, after all. Long life has taught you that. "But I do not suggest we go testing the theory by getting into danger."

“What does danger have to do with soulmates?” He asks, frowning again.

"The chance that immortals bonding with their soulmates restores their mortality is...very high," you remind him quietly.

Clarity shines in his eyes and he leans back again. “But we don’t know if that’s what it is.” He hums, picking up his wine again. “We will not test it though.”

"Two meetings do not constitute a connection." And that is all you have had, despite the fact that your vision had stretched over decades and you had dreamt many times of those things your magic revealed to you. "But I agree. We will not test it."

“Soulmates.” He whispers, as if he is trying it on. He looks over at you again and licks his lips. “How would we know? For certain?”

"There are a few tests – magical ones – that could be tried." Their origins all seem dubious to you, or they require ingredients for potions that are unavailable in this new and modern world. They are less than ideal. "Or there is a more...primal test."

“Primal test?” He wonders if it is some kind of blood ceremony or something.

You smirk, hearing in his voice that he expects you to say something deeply mystical or esoteric. "We could have sex," you clarify, pronouncing every syllable.

You are enjoying teasing him. He can tell, but his body is too busy agreeing with your suggestion to care. “We could.” He growls, hands curling on the table as his entire being shifts into something much more dangerous.

"You are interested." It doesn't even need to be a question. His body language makes that clear, and your lips turn up in a smile all over again. "Good."

“You are a beautiful woman.” He reminds you bluntly. “I am old, not dead. My cock still stirs.”

"I'm very glad to hear it." Feeling more confident and looking forward to the night, you shift in your seat to sit a bit taller and survey the man before you unabashedly. "It would be a pity to waste such an enticing man."

It has been a long time since a woman has called him enticing. Instead of preening, like the young boys seem to do now, he lets you look your fill.

"Are you the sort of man who needs to be in your own space?" It is now a negotiation of sorts, but you are happy to be able to study him while you talk and wait for your dinner.

He huffs, amused by that idea, and shakes his head. “I don’t know if I’ve ever had a space that I considered my own.” He points out. “We are both nomads.”

“True. But some people feel the need to exert control wherever possible.” Satisfied that he is not one of those men, you sit back again. “Think of it as asking ‘your place or mine’.”

“Your place.” He decides immediately. “If you want to kick me out, it’s easier.” He doesn’t also say that it will be later in the night and not safe for you to go home alone, not wanting to seem sexist.

“My place.” Your smile is crooked and calm, intrigued and anticipatory. “Good.”

He wonders why that is good, but he shrugs it off, his eyes shifting behind you to see the waiter bringing the food.

You give the waiter warm thanks when your plates are set down, and look back to Pero with interest as the two of you begin to eat. “Tell me a story,” you request, wanting to know more about the man now that you will be spending at least one night together. After all, he has never met anyone like you and you have never met anyone specifically like him. Who else could you share your life stories with in the same way?

Pero frowns slightly and decides that you should hear a story from his original lifeline. "There was this bastard I knew." He begins, the gruffness of his voice is belied by the glimmer of fond remembrance in his eyes. "William Garin. He was a pain in my ass. Getting me into scrapes and saving my ass on the battle field. But I saved his life more." He adds. "He heard about this mystical black powder the Chinese had. And he convinced me to go in search of it. The weapon of our dreams."

Garin is obviously not Spanish, nor is William, and the time spent as a warrior connects dots in your mind. Dots that most in this day and age would find unsavory, but you know better. Survival was harder back then. “You were mercenaries together?”

"Sí." He nods, happy that he does not have to explain every detail to you. "We had fought together for this lord and when he was done with us, we had managed to not kill each other, so we rode together."

“A friend you don’t wish to run through is exceptionally valuable when the sword is already in your hand.” Mercenaries were never long on friendships, as you recall. Which makes it doubly impressive that the men stayed together. “So you went to China together?”

"We collected a group of men." He continues, looking down at the wine and the water at his plate. "All of us desperate for the powder for our own selfish reasons, but we were foolish enough to believe that we could obtain it."

“Fools sometimes have great success,” you point out, sipping from your wine glass. “But I think your luck was not so good, judging from the expression on your face.”

"Twelve of us started out." He nods. "Two of us made it to the Wall."

“The Great Wall?” It is still great today and in nowhere near the splendorous condition that he must have seen it in then.

Pero nods. “Some were killed by bandits, some from disease.” He huffs. “One poor bastard broke his back when his horse fell on him.”

“An unfortunate fate for anyone, bannered soldier or freed lance.” You nod slightly, not wanting to make light of his brethren’s fate but knowing that happened to many.

“The last three died the night before we reached the wall.” He stares at his wine before he takes a large gulp of it. “Eaten by the Tao Tei, though we did not know that at the time. Ripped away from the fire in the blink of an eye while we were resting from running from bandits. Will and I survived together and he took the creatures hand when it had come for us.”

“What became of your brother?” It sounds like he was far more than simply a brother in arms. Pero is likely to have tracked his entire life and legacy.

“When we left the Wall, after the Tao Tei had been defeated, he left his heart behind.” Pero frowns slightly. “After three months, we turned back and he return to his general.”

It’s sweet, or perhaps bittersweet, but you off him a soft smile of understanding. Laced with curiosity, of course. “An unusual love, or an unusual general?” You ask gently.

“She was ferocious.” He chuckles, understanding your meaning and appreciating the tact. “She brought out a side of him I didn’t understand at the time.” He admits. “He was better because of her, the best version of himself.”

“That is what soulmates do, they say.” Satisfied that you haven’t offended him or the memory of his friend, you settle back into your meal. “Did you stay long with them?”

“Until their third child was born.” He hums. “It had become obvious to me that they were aging but for some reason I was not.” He frowns slightly. “I went to a monastery to search for answers and when I returned, my friend was on his deathbed, old and feeble.”

“You were there for his joys and returned to show him your love at the end.” That is honorable. Commendable, even. “That is more than many friends can say they have done.”

“He deserved it.” He shrugs as if it was not much. It was the least he could do in his mind after so many years. “After they were buried together, she had passed the year before, I started my path alone. Never meeting anyone like myself until now.”

"Perhaps it is a sign?" If he even believes in them. As likely as not, he thinks them child’s play.

“Perhaps.” He takes his wine and finishes the rest of it. “It has been a long time since I have seen any signs of anything beyond this existence.”

“I cannot claim to know anything of what lies beyond.” How could you? “But this life is valuable despite being infinite.”

“It is getting harder with technology.” He admits.

“Avoiding being photographed is difficult.” It is a hazard, if you’re honest, which is why you have stayed out of the big cities for decades. “I stay out of cities and tourist traps now. We have to be so careful.”

“Especially with my scar.” He gestures towards his face. “I have thought about surgery but who knows if it would work?”

You consider him carefully for a moment, letting a smirk turn up one corner of your lips. “It might be a pity to lose,” you tell him finally. “The effect is rather dashing.”

His brow lifts, the one affected by the scar and he hums. “You like a more….rugged appearance on a man, hermosa?”

“I do.” And you are old enough and have had enough lovers to know that you do have a preference. “It is not necessary, I would say. But certainly my preference.”

“Then I am pleasing to your eye?” He asks, smirking slightly. He might not be a vain man, but he does enjoy when a woman wants him.

Far be it from you to deny a truth, especially when it is one you have already confirmed. He has let you look your fill during this meal, after all. “I would not be taking you home with me if you were not,” you confirm, and let you smirk grow a little wider.

“Depended on how desperate you might be.” Pero jokes dryly. “Thought I do not believe you have had much trouble warming your bed over the centuries.”

“More than you might think,” you admit, but shrug. “I thank you for the compliment, though.”

“You are a beautiful woman.” He grunts. “Interesting too.”

“More compliments?” Your face blossoms into a teasing, playful grin. “Since I am sure you do not hand them out meaninglessly, I am even more glad.”

“Tell me about yourself.” He asks, wanting to know more about this witch who had known he was somehow coming into your life. “You ever been wrong with your visions?”

“In the early days.” You nod to that, willing to admit that you had needed much training to learn to wield your power effectively. “I have honed my skills. Learned how to tell when things are important. Listened to the way the visions sing to me. I have been wrong before, but not in many centuries.”

He nods. “And you knew that I would come to you, but not exactly when.”

“Because I do not presume to know everything from the visions anymore. Early on, we are so eager to know all. We cannot abide mystery. But now?” You wave one hand dismissively, picking up another forkful of your meal. “The universe will tell me what I am to know when it decides I am ready.”

“It is not like you do not possess the time.” He snorts, finding comfort in your ideology and he picks up his own fork. “Your bread is probably the best I have had in years.” He compliments. “I dreamed of it last night.”

“Is that all you dreamed of?” You doubt it, much to your own amusement, and are not ashamed of what your own dreams have consisted of since meeting the mercenary.

“No.” He admits easily, a ghost of a smirk pulling at his lips. “It was hardly decent.”

“Good.” The way your thighs clench in anticipation is no accident, but all he sees is the pleased expression on your face and perhaps the fire in your eyes. “Then it matched my own.”

“Then tell me what you want.” He demands. “I am sure you have expectations after being here so long and seeing how sex progresses.”

“We have both been here a very long time, Tovar,” you remind him with a wry chuckle. Your meal is finished and your wine as well, so you sit back in your seat and inhale the ocean breeze. “We will take pleasure in each other until we are exhausted, we will sleep curled in the same bed, and when we wake tomorrow we will indulge again if it pleases us to do so.”

“You are very sure of yourself.” He chuckles, not minding the idea of your evening at all. “It is a trait I admire in a woman.”

"If I was certain of myself, I would plan beyond tomorrow morning," you tell him, valuing honesty more than pretense in this moment. The meal is ending and the next steps you take together may change everything. That is what you are unsure of. "But I don't presume to know your mind. Only my own."

“You know it well.” Even though it would not be considered the newer custom of a date, Pero pulls out his wallet to pay for the meal you shared.

It's gentlemanly of him, and after hundreds of years walking this earth you have both accumulated fortune enough to always keep food in your bellies, so you simply thank him for the gesture. You will make him breakfast in the morning before he decides to be on his way, and that will be payment in kind. There is a sort of uncertainty in your bones about how this coupling will turn out – not because you doubt that you will find pleasure but because Tovar seems prone to run from anything he perceives as comfort.

Wiping his mouth one last time, Pero stands and he waits for you to get up as well. “Then let us go find our pleasure with each other.” He offers.

Your home, like everything else in this village, is close enough to walk to. There is no soft sweetness of hand holding or stolen looks, but instead a sort of comfort of knowing what is to come. He walks closer to the street, shielding you from anything that might splash or come too close. When you make it to your door, though, the air of anticipation seems to tighten around both of you and you suddenly become hyper aware of how close he is standing as you turn your key in the lock.

“You can change your mind.” It’s not that he is trying to get you to send him home, but he always prefers to know there is no doubts when he takes a woman to bed.

"I don't want to change my mind." You push open your front door and step back, letting him enter first if he wants to. "You can as well. If that is what you want."

“I would regret it for a thousand years if I left now.” Pero shakes his head and steps into your house.

"Considering we may well live that long, I would hate for you to live with that feeling." You step in behind him and close the door, deciding to throw the lock closed because he is a warrior of many lifetimes and will be on high alert if the house isn't secure.

He hums in approval, sure that after so many years walking this earth you can protect yourself, but no one openly invites the bear into their home. He looks around, finding your private space to be an extension of the bakery you run. Warm and inviting, although he recognizes the antiques that must be collections from your past lives.

"Look around if you like." Shedding your bag and jacket, you don't mind that the space is a little untidy and obviously lived in. This new fascination with making a home look as if no one lives in it is maddening. "Would you like another drink?"

"I am good." He declines as he start to poke around shamelessly. Picking up trinkets and examining them. If he had been the Pero from years ago, he would thinking of stealing from you. Now, he just admires them before setting them back down as he learns more about you from what you keep in your home.

"Do you have a favorite?" As he shuffles through the shelves and collections of keepsakes from your past lives, you smile softly to actually be able to share them with someone who understands.

“Why did you keep this?” The flower is dried, encased in resin and obviously of some importance to you.

"Because I promised the little girl that gave it to me that I would keep it forever." You tell him honestly, stepping into the living room to gaze on the dried wildflower bud. "When the plague came through the village we were in, almost everyone died. She could not have been more than ten years old, but I promised her I would nurse her parents while they died, and she gave me a flower in thanks before her grandmother took her and they fled the village together. The flower was for my kindness, and I took the promise that I made to her very seriously."

“Hopefully the girl had a good life.” It was doubtful, times were hard back then, but it was the best he could hope for anyone.

“Hopefully.” Not having been able to find her later on, you could not say for sure. But she was a sweet little girl and you liked to imagine she found happiness of some sort or other as a woman.

“Your home is very cozy.” The word sounds rough on his tongue, but you don’t seem to mind his gruffness.

"I see no reason not to surround myself with things that bring me joy." You extend your hand, wondering if he will take it and how that will finally feel. You have wondered about his touch for more than a hundred years. "That includes people."

Pero stares at your hand for a moment, then he reaches out. The scars on the back of his hands have faded over the millennia, but he can still see each one. He watches his fingers touch your palm and slide over your skin.

In modern times, they talk about electricity between people. Between a couple coming together. But in the centuries past that spark of new passion was always what happened before an all-consuming fire. The calluses on both of your hands seem to slide over each other with ease, letting your fingers lace together and making your breath catch in a way it hasn't in centuries.

And all at once desire seems to banish every other thought from your mind.

His eyes widen slightly, feeling tug deep in his belly, lighting a hunger in his loins that has long been dormant. Even though he had told himself he would let you control the pace of the night; he is dragging you close. Already obsessed with the next step that you would take. A kiss.

It’s as if you fuse together instantly, that kiss being the mere byproduct of your union into one being. Arms wrap around each other as fiercely tongues entwine, the kiss already deepened into something hungry and exploratory as soon as your lips met.

Once he’s tasted you, Pero is ravenous. Growling as he slides his tongue against yours and holds the back of your head, tilting you like the heroine in a romance novel. The need pouring through him into the flick of his tongue against yours and the groans he is feeding into you.

Every inch of your body is alight with need, and while the fingers of one hand sink into his hair to tug sharply as much as to keep him near, your other hand explores. His frame is even broader than you expected, shoulders and arms thick with corded muscle. You are pliant under every demand of his kiss, returning his moans with enthusiasm even as you start to blindly feel what lies ahead for your pleasure.

He does not know your little house, but he is learning your body. Caressing you with large, sweeping passes over your body. Listening for when your moans intensify. Wanting to memorize what brings you pleasure.

The little cottage only has one floor, though, making it easy to navigate blindly. You could not tear yourself from his embrace now even if you desired it — but the only thing you desire is to bring him with you as you slowly pull your intertwined bodies toward your bedroom.

He lets you guide him. Shuffling with you as you start to pull away. Not wanting there to be any space between you, he follows. Trusting you more than he has anyone in hundreds of years.

Out if the living room, across a small hallway, and through the doorway into your bedroom, you keep hold firm hold of him. Of the countless lovers you have had over the course of your overly-long life, none have set a fire in you that could compare to what you’re feeling right now — and the shocking thought that a soulmate might exist somewhere in the world for you narrows itself into an almost inevitable reality.

He’s never felt like this. Not even when he was a wet behind the ears whelp tumbling into bed with his first whore. The craving he has for you has burrowed under his skin and his fingers reach for the tie to your dress to strip it off your body.

Your hands work just as fast and thoroughly, pulling his sweater over his head despite having to part from him to do so. If you never breathe another breath that did not come from his mouth first, you would live another thousand happy years.

Modern clothing is both a gift and a curse. A gift because there is less of it, a curse because it was easier to just throw a woman’s skirts up and sink into her if she was not wearing drawers. Panties now are alluring but so restrictive. His fingers dig under the band and he shreds them in his haste to rid your body of the barrier between you.

If you felt any sort of restraint whatsoever, you might be amused by his eagerness, but it matches your own. It matches how frustrated you are to have to tear through the shirt under his sweater just to get to bare skin, then the belt and sticky zipper on his trousers to get to what you're craving. His cock is hard as stone – as desperately hard as you are wet – and you moan with a measure of uninhibited relief when you slip your hand inside his pants to discover he isn't wearing any sort of underwear. One less layer to have to tear off of him.

He would chuckle if he could breathe, but that is beyond him right now. Groaning when your fingers wrap around him, he bucks his hips forward and only takes his hands off you to strip down his pants and kick them off with his shoes.

Your bra is the last thing tossed aside, and you sigh into the feeling of his calloused hands kneading your flesh. He has made no mistake about appreciating a woman with curves, and in this moment you have never been more grateful for them. Any additional patch of skin for him to touch is worth praising.

"Beautiful." He growls, cupping and squeezing your tits, appreciating the lushness of your curves and the way you fit into his hands. It's as if you were created to slot into him perfectly.

“Enough to keep your hands full?” You huff a breathy laugh, already knowing the answer.

“You could be a little plumper.” Pero snorts, never denying a thicker figure is sexy. Back when he was younger; that meant you were well fed.

You grin, laughing with him, and tug him toward your bed without shame. “Then it is a good thing I am a baker.”

“Does that mean your cunt is sweet?” He teases, reaching out to brace his arms so he doesn’t collapse on you when you both fall into the bed. “Tastes like honey?”

“You’ll have to tell me.” The blankets are pushed aside immediately, letting you both tumble onto the mattress eagerly. “For the sake of your sweet tooth, I hope so.”

He flashes a predatory grin, eyes dark and full of mischief as he bites your chin. "Then let me have a taste."

"As much as you like," you assure him, sliding back to lie down amongst your pillows. "Until we are both satisfied."

He hums and attacks your mouth again, intoxicated by the taste of your lips and sure that the rest of you is equally addicting.

Every inch of you is plied with those hungry kisses. From your lips and jaw down the length of your neck, paying tribute at the temple of your breasts and growling into the soft flesh of your belly as he makes his way down. No detail is spared his voracious attention. No scar missed. No stretch mark unadored.

You are exquisite. A map of time, of experience. Random scars that have faded to non-existence. A lesser man wouldn’t even notice them, except Pero wears the same faded marks on his body. His tongue and teeth worship them until he has bitten each of your thighs and his shoulders are wedged between them, inhaling the musky, tangy scent of your sex like it’s a stimulant.

"I will go and get the honey jar if it will get your tongue inside me faster," you gripe, smirking at him even as your thighs bracket his head and his breath wafts over your cunt.

“Impatient witch.” Pero huffs, frowning so he doesn’t laugh. But he takes your lead and buries his tongue deep inside your walls, his prominent nose pressed against your clit.

"I will not apologize," you groan, sinking further into your mattress with a keening sound of bliss as he dives in with enthusiasm.

He wouldn’t expect you to. You are too brash for untruths. You are impatient and he groans into your folds as he sets about learning what makes your thighs quiver about his ears. It’s been years since he’s eaten a cunt with this much enthusiasm and he wants to prove that he can make you squeal.

Your fingers find his curls, tangling in the long strands and encouraging him to seek the deepest parts of you. It bows your back and makes your skin tingle, and you anchor yourself to him as he begins to build you up in pleasure right away. Every stroke of his tongue is magic, and you have experienced enough magic in your life to know that sensation deeply.

You respond so beautifully to him. Synchronizing your moans to the flick of his tongue or the nudge of his nose. Urging him on with breathless chants of pleasure that have him aching against the sheets he is grinding down against.

The pleasure is almost blinding, taking over all of your senses so that you forget everything in the world beyond him. His name is the only one one your lips, barely joined by breathless praises. A thousand lifetimes of practice have made him a skilled lover and you are glad to reap those rewards tonight.

You melt into him. Your cunt is better than honey but he laps at you continuously. Sampling the sweet nectar and pulling the gorgeous sounds out of you with a glee that is bordering on smug.

Time is as liquid as your body by the time you fall apart for him. All you know is that your world has narrowed to the man between your legs and that this is what you want more than anything in the world. You sob his name as he drinks down your release, fingers twisted both in his hair and in the bedsheets. The unapologetic ringing of bliss through the walls of your house seem to reverberate back to you, as if knowing that this pleasure should not be shared with anyone else.

Watching you shake apart is a privilege. One that he is determined to have. Again he curls his tongue around your clit to help you extend the fluttering of your walls. Obsessed with the way that you sob his name.

A satisfied sigh passes your lips when you can finally breathe again, and you open your eyes to find him staring hungrily up at you with his cheek resting on your thigh.

“Did I satisfy you?” He’s smug, because he knows he did, but he wants to hear you say it.

"Better than I expected you to," you promise him, not at all upset with how satisfied with himself he looks. He should be that satisfied. You certainly are. But you still shoot a grin back at him. "Now do it again. With your cock this time."

He snorts, taking the backhanded compliment and he leans in to nip your hip and starting to untangle his shoulders from your legs to crawl up your body.

"You wouldn't like a girl who fawned over you." That part of his personality is abundantly clear. Praise is good, but honest praise. Not when it is empty. "But I knew from the way you devoured me with your eyes at dinner that you could do it with your mouth, too."

He grunts, placated by your answer and his lips find yours again as he slides into your arms and wraps his arms around your back.

You’ll take the kiss as confirmation. As an agreement that you have learned him well in a very small space of time. And that is all you need to deliver the measure of passion back to him twofold.

You fit together so naturally. So easily. His body slots against yours with no discomfort, no need to adjust. His cock is pressed against your entrance and all he has to do is push forward to sink into you.

Gasping in unison, the sharp intake of breath turns to a shared, shuddering moan as he pushes inside you. Your arms wrap tight around him just as his hold you close, and the seemingly endless moment of just being joined is better than you ever remember feeling with any man before.

It’s not that it has been so long since Pero has filled a woman that has him groaning your name. It’s how perfect you feel. Transcending beyond physical into something almost primal, like you are his.

One long, breathless moment of amusement is needed before you search out his lips again, nipping the lower one and squeezing your cunt around his cock to spur him into moving. This blissful elation has mountains to climb before the night is over.

He grunts, twitching inside you because of your boldness. He likes a feisty woman, especially in bed. One that demands that her needs be met and met well. He pushes even deeper before he is dragging his cock back out, making sure that your walls feel him retreating to anticipate the next commanding thrust.

The rhythm you build together is damn near athletic with the amount of push and pull you give. Not quite right but all the way to the edge of wondering whether your creaking bed will give out before you decide you don’t care. He would be worth the collapsed furniture, this rough-hewn warrior with his heart of golden softness. And you wonder, in between moaning his name into the darkness, whether anyone has ever told him that before.

The mattress undeath you doesn't give him the leverage that he wants, that he needs to snap his hips forward and pull another beautiful cry from those lips of yours. Obsessed with how you take every demanding thrust and still seek more, he reaches up and grabs the headboard for better purchase. Growling your name while he rocks into you. "Fuck, you are perfect, bruja, taking my cock and begging for more. I'll give you everything you want and more." He pants, almost breathless, but determined to keep the brutal pace up. He had fought in hand to hand combat for hours, he can make you cum before he collapses in exhaustion.

Some lovers are sensuous, some are tender, some are eager or greedy. Pero matches the way you feel in this moment — the unbridled surety of what your want and need and crave — without question and with great enthusiasm. He is as hungry for a partner to be unrestrained with as you are. To find someone with whom you can remove your mask. The wet noise of slapping hips and growling of praise fills your senses like a drug and all you can think is how you want more.

Every thrust feels like he’s going to impale you. Hurt you. Your legs wrapped around his waist feel like they are the only thing keeping him from fucking up into your throat and still you cry for him. It’s the most beautiful, greedy sounds he’s ever heard and he wants more of them ringing in his ears. His lips kiss and his teeth bite along your neck, your jaw while he huffs and puffs, grunting his own pleasure into your skin.

Too much, not enough, absolutely perfect, overwhelming, and yet the most unbridled you’ve ever felt. It is everything. The first time you come apart for him it is like the explosion that heralds the beginning of a new world, tearing you apart from the inside out but only granting you a new and vital life force. Pero ends up on his back beneath you, trading places so that he can watch you ride him with greedy eyes and explore your body with calloused hands as you take more pleasure from him.

You are a witch. You’ve bewitched him. In awe of the sight of you, tits bouncing, head thrown back, you ride him like you are riding a horse across the desert. Every time you slam back down in his cock, his toes curls and his body lurches in pleasure under you. Hands filling with every inch of your flesh he can possess, growling and moaning like he is in pain, but it is pure pleasure bleeding those sounds from him.

It’s sunrise before you’re done with each other, collapsing into a pile of satisfied bodies and damp sheets. One of the best fringe benefits of immortality is the stamina and you fully abused that tonight.

“You have to work?” He asks, panting as he runs his hand down your sweaty spine and smirking tiredly when you shiver in response.

“I’m closed today.” You chuckle, breathy and light, deciding that taking a single day off from running the bakery won’t make a difference to the village. “There are more fun things to do at home.”

He chuckles. “Sí? Like what, bruja? Casting more spells over me?”

“Sí.” Laughing together, you hold him a little tighter, as though a whisper told you he might slip away. “Claro. Of course I will.”

He hums after a moment. “I have never felt that strongly before.” He admits after letting the silence settle between you and your breaths have slowed down. “That connected. Did you feel it too?”

“I did.” A small smile quirks at the corner of your lips. “I do feel it. Perhaps it is as they say.”

“Soulmates?” His eyes widen when he puts it together and his fingers twitch against the curve of your ass where he had been idly caressing. “You believe that is what we are?”

“Perhaps.” Your lips find his, brushing a reassuring kiss there while you still smile. “There is only one way to be certain.”

“How?” He kisses you back before he frowns slightly.

“Sleep, hermoso.” When he looks surprised you only laugh sweetly. “Sleep. And your bruja will cast into the shadows after some rest.”

“As long as you sleep with me.” Pero grunts, pulling you close again and closing his eyes even as the room becomes brighter with the coming day.

******

The sound of the cock crowing penetrates Pero’s sleep, making him grunt and curl around you a bit more as if to protect you from the coming day. “Too early.” He grumbles, although he knows that you must wake, pressing his lips to the warm skin of your neck where his face has been buried through the night.

“Ignore it.” You grumble back, shifting backward in a sleepy shuffle to burrow closer to him under the heavy wool blanket. You’ve only half woken up but you don’t want to leave this bed.

He grunts in agreement, holding you tight and his cock twitches when you press your ass against his crotch.

“Ready for more already, mi caballero?” Not that you’re surprised — you’re ready for him again too. You dreamt about it.

“Sí.” He growls quietly. “Your cunt is too good not to be craving every chance I get.”

"One night and you are already addicted?" You chuckle from somewhere low in your chest and roll over to face him, only to sit straight up in bed when you finally open your eyes.

Pero frowns slightly, feeling the rush of cool air when you pull the warmth of your body and the covers away from him. "Lay down."

"Pero." With your eyes darting around the room, you start to twist and look in every direction, turning a little more frantic with every change of direction. "Pero, look!"

He grunts, opening an eye cautiously and then he is opening the other, sitting up in the bed with a frown. “Where the fuck are we?”

“Flanders.” You practically gasp out the word, looking around in shock. “In a cottage on the river outside Gent…” Practically springing from the bed, you reach for the nearest blanket to wrap around yourself and go to the window.

The garden and meadow behind your little cottage look brighter and sweeter than you remember, but very much the same. It has been hundreds of years since you lived in the Flemish countryside yet here you are.

Swallowing a sharp gasp, you turn back from the color-stained glass window. “When do you say you were from?” You demand. “Originally, I mean?”

Pero frowns as he follows you, not bothering to find his breeches and he looks out the wavy glass. You must have been very well established to have glass. He tells you the year. “Why?”

You swallow thickly, disbelief coloring your features and all you can do is choke out a laugh. “Pero, look around you. We were in an entirely different cottage when we fell asleep.”

“I can see that.” He huffs. “I’m asking why you wanted to know what years I was originally walking through life.”

“Because…” You can feel your heartbeat pounding, adrenaline beating in your veins. “Because in your first walk of this earth, I was living here.”

He frowns, brow pinching together in thought. “Where are we?” He demands, thinking back to that time.

“Flanders. The country. I was already baking then…there is a tavern down the road where I made bread and cooked suppers and helped keep guests.” The awe and confusion on your face are so deeply etched into your skin that it feels like they go all the way into your bones. “For two immortals we should not be so cods walloped by the notion of time travel.”

“Because I have never woken up in a time different from which I fell asleep.” He reasons. “I was supposed to travel to Flanders.” He whispers. “After I left the wall. That was mine and Garin’s plan.”

“You were?” You wrap the blanket around yourself a little more tightly at this surprising news, as if it might bring on more unknown magic.

“Sí.” He frowns as he peers out the window at the sleepy little scene in front of him. It’s almost jarring, how quiet this time actually was. There is none of the low frequency noises that he had grown used to hearing in the modern world.

“I wonder…”

“Wonder?” He turns back to you, watching you as you contemplate this newest development in your lives. “What are you thinking, cariño?”

The term of endearment does not escape you, but rather it almost seems to confirm the thought that has cropped up in your mind. “I wonder if there is something in soulmates…being people who were supposed to meet?”

Pero, despite his humble beginnings at this time in history, is not stupid and he understands what you are saying. “So we have been brought back to the time we were supposed to meet and understand our connection?” He theorizes and looks around the cottage again. “You were unwed at this time?”

He has followed your train of thought exactly and you nod. “I was. When I came to this village, I presented myself as a widow. There was more freedom in it.”

“And I was to come and spend the winter here.” Pero muses. “A sexy widow would have been a very appealing way to spend the winter.”

"I would have welcomed you." He is as to your taste after hundreds of years as he would have been then, and you would have let him into your bed without hesitation. "We would have kept very warm that winter."

He chuckles and leans over, pressing his lips to your bare shoulder. "Overheated." He promises. "Do you think we are here to stay?" He asks.

"It seems likely." Though you do frown, trying to think through the logistics in your mind. "We could travel. Make our way east. You could see your friend again."

"Does-- does this mean we are no longer immortal?" Pero asks, looking down at his hands and body. "Or does this mean we live these times again together?"

"I don't know." You murmur softly, placing your hands over his and gently squeezing. "But we will find out. Together."

------

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Pero Tovar #Pero Tovar x reader #Pero Tovar x you #Pero Tovar x female reader #Pero Tovar x plus size reader #plus size reader #Pero Tovar x f!reader #The Great Wall #Spooktober 2024 #soulmates #magic

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mybworlds · 3 months ago

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Beyond the Walls

Pairing: Pero Tovar x f!reader (no Y/N)

Summary: You are a princess, you should act like a proper damsel, but you are not and you don't want to be. Luckily, you have an ally on your side.

Warnings: use of you, typical sexism, the main character has female features, but I don't describe her in detail, the image is only meant to represent the moment, nothing else. Fighting against the conventions of the time, the main character wears both women's and men's clothes. Tovar in this story is the protagonist's bodyguard and a knight. Violence graphic.

A/N: Okay, here I am, I woke up with this new idea and here it is. I don't know if I should make it a one-shot or a miniseries, if you want and like please let me know, you know I appreciate your comments.

You run, you urge your horse to increase his pace, you have to lose him. You stop for a moment, but then you think again and decide to cross the fields.

You will do it quicker.

The farmers are not at all enthusiastic about it, some snort as you pass by, others curse you. You smile, you feel so free and light on Callus. Even today you will arrive before him, a triumphant grin bends your lips upwards, you reach and pass the walls surrounding the castle when suddenly he appears in front of you, cutting you off and making your faithful steed rear up.

“I won, Princesa” says your bodyguard giving you a smirk and dismounting from his horse.

“Oh, fuck, that’s not fair!” you blurt out, getting off your stud. “You cheated!”

“Never.” he answers you by taking the reins of his horse and leading it to the stables, you do the same “I went through the main road, you wanted to cheat by going through the fields and destroying all the work of those poor people.”

You laugh, “Please, let’s do it again.”

“Qué? Do you want to destroy the fields again, my lady?” he teases you coming out of the stables.

“Of course not, Pero.” you say “But, you know how I feel when I run, when I'm free to ride a horse, when I can practice swordsmanship with you, when I can be who I really am.” you add.

A few moments later, your mother joins you. Pero kneels, you nod and say “Mother”.

She sighs and shakes her head, “What have you done to yourself, my daughter? Dressed like that, your hair tied up, your face dirty.” She puts on a disgusted expression, “You are a princess and you are a woman. You have some duties to fulfill and you can't afford such obscenities. Dressed as a man!” She tsks “Now go upstairs, I’ve already had a bath prepared for you.”

“You know how I feel!” you reply to what she said. “I want to be free.”

“Daughter,” she uses an annoyed tone “you know that certain liberties are not granted and that only your husband will do this later.”

“I don’t want to get married!” you exclaim while your mother widens her eyes in complete astonishment at your words “I don’t want an old gentleman deciding for me! I am a woman, it's true, but that doesn't mean I want to deprive myself of my life, my choices, my dreams.”

For your mother these are just whims dictated by your age, but according to her you will soon change your mind and indeed you will be happy to marry someone powerful who can give you everything you want and then give yourself the freedom you talk so much about.

What Tovar thinks matters only to you, for everyone he is just your most faithful bodyguard, he is just someone who keeps you safe, who prevents the worst from happening to you, but for each other you are much more than just any princess and her protector. No one knows and it's okay.

For Tovar, you are the bravest person he has ever met and he has met all kinds of people, but no woman has your courage and when you hold a sword you assume that expression so focused and proud that he can't help but feel a deep pride swelling in his chest, when you ride you are absolutely free and you get that expression of absolute bliss and he feels so lucky to still be in this world to enjoy such a spectacle.

You two spend a lot of time together and it was he who offered you that breath you longed for, that freedom that no one else had granted you and for this you are always eternally grateful to him.

Tovar believes that you should be the one to choose what to do with your life, but he also understands that in your case it is not as simple as it seems. So when you confide in him, Pero avoids telling you things like do what you want and run away because he knows you would be capable of it. He offers you long horseback rides on the beach, teaches you how to shoot a bow, has taught you how to use a sword, and on more than one occasion you have gone to the village in disguise. And you loved every single moment of what Pero showed you.

If there was some discomfort at first, now you are fine together. You are so fine that one afternoon when you were out in the woods and you were completely soaked after an accidental fall, Pero offered you his cloak and to thank him you stood on tiptoe to kiss him. Pero was so surprised that he looked you in the eyes for a long time as if to understand if it had been a casual gesture or if you were aware of what you had done. No uncertainty or disturbance changed your gaze, you knew what you were doing.

You have never gone beyond that, although you do not want to submit to certain constraints or duties, you have always and in any case preserved your virtue.

You meet his gaze, sigh and then you go up the main staircase followed by your lady-in-waiting.

“Tovar,” your mother says to the man, “you are an excellent knight and a valuable asset to our house,” the woman continues, “however, I believe you are being too accommodating to her.” She smiles faintly at the knight “I hope you wish to return to those ranks you agreed to honor, but if it were too much for you to do and you couldn't get her to respect you, well, that would mean we would be forced to deprive ourselves of your presence.” the man swallows, the woman is his lord's wife and if he were to be chased away from there too, his wandering would begin again and perhaps something even worse would happen to him. He decides to bite his tongue and simply nods and with a nod of his head takes his leave.

Your maids are supposed to wash your hair, your face, your body, but you dismiss them, asking to be left alone.

You want to be free, you want it so bad. You take a deep breath and then go down into the tub full of rose petals. Everyone — your family — wants to remind you of who you are and where you belong, but your indomitable spirit won’t give up, not like this.

You emerge and decide to fight. You know you won't be alone. You can always count on Pero Tovar.

You dress in a cream-colored tunic, you are determined to go to him, but without wanting to, when you pass in front of the library, you glimpse a light and then hear footsteps: you stop and strain your ears, you open the door slightly and see one of your father's most trusted men and another man you've never seen before, They are apparently not doing anything wrong, but it's the manner and tone that you don't like. They have something in their hands, it's shiny and when you realize what it is, you jump, making a guttural noise that makes you step back and slam into a suit of armor worn long, long ago by your father.

The noise attracts the attention of the two and almost immediately they are at the door, you take another step back, “What are you waiting for?! Kill her!” shouts your father's advisor to the other who he points the gun at you.

Your eyes widen in shock, just then something whistles through the air, then something fast passes in front of you and this movement is followed by a cry of pain. Your attacker lost a hand, chopped off by an axe. You and the councilor turn and see Tovar standing at the beginning of the corridor, you take advantage of that moment of confusion to run to him and take refuge behind him.

Following this event, the castle seems to wake up all at once, excited voices seem to come from every corner.

“Come away, Princesa,” Tovar tells you trying to get you to walk away, but you stare at the other man and are about to tell him that you're going to tell your father what happened and that he won't get away with it, but then the unthinkable happens: two guards appear across the corridor and the counselor shouts “Get them, they were plottin’ something with this man and then they killed him.”

“That's not true!” you try to say, but you know the strong influence that man has on everyone, especially your father. He would be able to say anything and everyone would believe him.

“Run, Princesa, come!” Tovar shouts, dragging you down the stairs with him. You barely have time to leave the castle because they close the gates. When you're apart you look back and for the first time you realize that you're beyond the walls and you're wanted.

You don't know what will happen to your life, your future, your dreams, or your freedom, you just know that the only one who will always be by your side will be your tireless bodyguard, teacher and friend, Pero Tovar.

#pero tovar #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar x female reader #the great wall fanfic #the great wall #the great wall fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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sirowsky-stories · 5 months ago

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For The Love Of A Grump

Summary: Pero reflects on how you made his birthday the best it possibly could've been.

Requested by @chaoticfestninja

Rating: General/Everyone Warnings: Pero Tovar x female reader, but told from Pero's pov. As always, my Pero has issues with self-worth, but this story is a positive one, focused on his perspective of being loved. Word Count: 900

He’d asked you to keep it small, and you had. But you’d also made it enormous, somehow managing to incorporate the entire world into the intimate celebration, and for the life of him, he’s never known how you do those things.

Dragging him out of bed first thing in the morning, almost before the sun had even risen, he’d grumbled at you, truly feeling upset that you hadn’t let him sleep in, or even wished him happy birthday before ordering him to get dressed and hauling him out to the car.

The drive had been long and listening to your upbeat sing-along with your favorite pop music radio station, had eventually worn him down and made him laugh. He’d never been able to resist your joyous energy and the way you seemed so unaffected by his general grumpiness.

It was exactly what had eventually convinced him he’d already fallen for you, that day in the pouring rain two years ago, when he’d gotten angry with you for not even letting the autumn weather get to you. As if that could ever be a bad thing.

That was the moment it had dawned on him, the only reason he would’ve been so upset was if he hadn’t wanted your positivity to infect him. But it already had, and he was already lost in it by then, craving it so badly it had frightened him into trying to scare you away.

You’d been immune to his mood swings from the start, never backing down no matter how terribly he’d treated you, and so impossibly elated whenever he’d showed you even a hint of happiness, that your very skin had seemed to shine with your joy.

He’d loved you long before he’d been able to understand it, but you’d known from the moment you’d met him, and you’d been determined to help him see it.

He trusts you beyond all reason, which was why he’d kept his mouth shut that morning in the car, not letting himself gripe at you. He knows better. You had a plan, and whatever it was, he’d be stupid to interfere with it.

The beach had been deserted that time in the morning, the ocean calm and pink in the first light of the day. Growing up far from the coast, he’d always been enchanted by the sea, drawn to it and calmed by it, so you’d brought him there to start the day off in the best possible way.

Breakfast on a blanket in the sand, followed by soothing cuddles and soft kisses, while the waves had begun to gently roll against the land. You’d let him doze off in your arms, giving him back the desired sleep-in you’d robbed him of earlier.

Getting back in car, you hadn’t brought him home, but instead taken him on a remembrance tour of your relationship, driving past all the places where you could recall something significant happening between you, and it had amazed him how much you’d held onto. Especially all the bad, which you somehow managed to see the positives of.

The next stop had been his favorite lunch diner, where you’d made sure the staff had treated him to their birthday special, complete with a song and dance routine which had left him laughing with equal parts embarrassment and delight.

But it was the afternoon which had really taken him to a sense of wonder, as you’d borrowed a pair of horses and taken him on a cross-country ride which had lasted until nightfall, over giant plains, mountains, rivers, and which had seen the two of you cook dinner over an open fire.

And even though you’d been all alone, not seeing another person for the duration of the journey, the vast sky above you, as well as the wonder of the natural features you’d navigated, had spoken to his heart about the connectivity of all things. From the distant sun, to the little bird which had taken refuge on his shoulder, under the brim of his hat, to escape the afternoon heat for a minute.

Out there, he had been reminded of how small he is, but at the same time, how wonderous it is that one little person could’ve found his soulmate at all, within this chaotic and artfully crafted world.

The evening had been spent among the sheets, where you’d allowed him to show you every nuance of his affection and desire for you, and it was only when his strength had finally run out and he’d tugged you into his arms to feel your stubbornly stoic and unfathomably kind heart beat against his ribs, that you’d finally wished him a happy birthday.

Because you’d known, the same way you always know these things, that he would only hear the truth of your words once you’d already expressed them in every other way possible.

Not because he doesn’t believe what you say, but simply because that’s how little he thinks of himself.

You are the only proof he’s ever had, that his life and existence has any meaning. He lives for you and the joy he somehow gives you by merely being there.

And as he falls asleep with you safely tucked against him, he thinks that one day he might be able to deserve your love. If he keeps letting you guide him.

If he keeps letting your unbridled positivity infect him.

Forever.

THE END

#sirowsky's birthday writing challenge 2024 #happy birthday to me #pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar x female reader #pero tovar x reader #modern!pero #the great wall fanfiction #the great wall au #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #sirowsky stories

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missredherring · 5 months ago

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The Rain Still Falls

Pero Tovar x Fat F!Reader

Rating: T

Word Count: 1.1k

Contents: angst or pining, idk.

Summary: The rain still falls and his heart still beats.

A/N: This is for @janaispunk 1500 kisses challenge!! My prompt was Pero Tovar + kissing in the rain. This is the first time I've written for Pero, so I hope it's good.

I was talking to @perotovar about the movie and we both agreed that Pero was in love with William. So, this is a bit of a love-lorn man getting back in the saddle and so vague about his relationship with the reader.

Moodboard by @janaispunk and divider by @saradika-graphics.

Not beat read; all mistakes are mine.

There was a time when he believed it was inevitable that his death would be by William’s side.

The sun is beating on his back, soaking into the dark armor and surely cooking him alive.

William’s fate separated from Pero’s when he returned with their escort to the Nameless Order and their great wall after reaching the edge of their domain.

Could Pero have joined them and stayed as a soldier instead of a prisoner? As much as William’s choice stung, he knew in his gut that he didn’t belong amongst the finely-tuned machine of the Order. Pero would only be the mud that caked up the gears and stopped them from turning.

The siren call of power had lead him across the world and he endured everything the road could throw at them. Surviving as fate winnowed down their group with an indifferent hand.

Maybe it’s a blessing that when he finally found the black powder, the ultimate weapon spoken about in speculative whispers, it only took his purpose and not his life or limbs.

Pero would say that it had taken William from him as well, if he didn’t know that bastard had been swayed by his heart and nothing else.

It’s quiet now. Instead of the cacophony of armor, weapons, horses, and men that made up their escort, there’s only the creaking tack of two.

His thoughts keep turning back and so Pero straightens his shoulders and lets his horse have his head, leading him further away from temptation.

The smooth gait of his horse had rocked him into a stupor, and it takes a shout to bring him out from it. With a scowl he finally turns to you.

He expects you to needle him with your sharp tongue. To berate him maybe, for ignoring his remaining companion thus far. Pero feels his blood pound in his ears, excitement quickening in his chest, at the return to normal. He knows he can stand his ground in a fight of words with you, unlike the Tao Tei.

Instead you watch him with tired eyes and gesture to the nearby stream. His scowl deepens. He should’ve noticed it.

“Apologies, amiga. My mind has been wandering.”

“It will catch up.” You say and dismount with a grunt. The axe strapped to your back catches the sunlight and blinds him. He blinks as his vision clears and takes in their surroundings.

The desert has only just given way; easing its grip and letting some green vegetation break up all the various shades of orange that had turned the world monochrome. The sun is high in the sky now, and clouds have come in from the west to bring shade and seconds of relief from the heat.

The stream is small but strong and you kneel at the bank and start scooping handfuls of water up to your mouth. It’s at this moment his brain chooses to join them, and it makes sure he notices how lush your wide bottom is as it tips up into the air when you lean forward for more. He digs out the water skins from the packs and drops down to the ground beside you.

Pero forgoes his hand and dunks his head in the stream, trading air for water in greedy mouthfuls. The water that drips down his face and neck is a balm for his heated skin as he turns over on his back with a sigh. The discomfort of his swords doesn’t even prompt him to move in that moment.

After being in constant movement, whether riding or in battle, for so long this stillness feels strange. He can still feel the echoes of it in his muscles, in the fresh bruises and aching wounds.

Through a cracked eye he watches as you reach back and remove what he knows from experience is a heavy axe with ease, your muscles flexing with the action, before you stretch out next to him with a sigh. They’ll need to work on their fighting dynamic to compensate for losing William’s arrows, but he doesn’t want to think about that yet.

“They kept the magnet, so we don’t have a compass to guide our way.”

“I think it no longer matters which way we are going, Pero. I’ll find my own way and the adventures will continue,” You hum thoughtfully. “Did they keep your heart as well?”

"I cannot feel it, but I know my heart is here,” he says and then tries for a bit of levity. “My body keeps moving, hm?"

You shake with the force of your laugh, but it is a strangled thing and he is unsure if it is mirth or something else he hears ringing in it.

“It is easy to keep going without a heart, Pero. I’m better off without one; it’s foolish, after all.”

He snorts his agreement and reaches over to nudge your shoulder to remind you he’s there. Just like when you'd knocked your pillory into his. Because you were there, too. When William had run off to do the right thing and Pero’s plan failed, you had held your tongue and stayed by his side. “But it is necessary, I think. Life would be awfully boring without some foolishness.”

Drops hit his face and Pero opens his eyes to see that the clouds have become dark and swollen overhead. The sound of raindrops hitting leaves faster and faster drive them to sit up, but there is no true cover available, so they stay where they are.

Pero takes your hand in his, his fingers touching the familiar callouses as if to check they’re where they should be and searches your face. The dark sky is reflected in your eyes.

“If you would grant me the pleasure, I’d like to continue on with you. Maybe these adventures of yours would be better with a companion?”

He sees the answer in the corner of your lips as you smile and nod at him. The steady rhythm in his chest is reassuring as he brings your knuckles to his mouth, the rain that gathers there wetting his cracked lips as he kisses them.

The moment lingers until mischief sharpens the corners of your smile. “On second thought, that might not be a good idea. Trouble seems to find you with ease, Pero Tovar.”

He chuckles and bares his teeth to nip at the thin skin of your knuckles. You make a fake sound of hurt and gather up the water skins to refill them, calling to the horses over your shoulder.

William will handle whatever fate waits for him on the wall. You will live your life on your own terms, as you always have. Pero will see where his decisions take him, for better or worse.

The horses knicker to each other. The birds sing as they fly overhead. The water continues to run downstream.

The rain still falls and his heart still beats.

#1500 kisses challenge #pero tovar x fat female reader #pero tovar x female reader #pero tovar x reader #x reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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missyorkswhore · 11 months ago

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Slooooow buuuuurn🔥

Ft.@umadosedepascal

#joel miller x female reader #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar #dave york #dieter bravo smut #pedro pascal smut #tim rockford x f!reader #dieter bravo x female reader #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedropascaledit #pascalispunk #javier peña #pedro pascal fandom #pedrohub

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nerdieforpedro · 1 year ago

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For your satisfaction Señora

Part One: Do you know what you want Señora?

Modern day Pero Tovar x plus size female OC

Fanfiction 18+ read the warnings!

Masterlist / Pero Tovar Masterlist

Summary: Cereza has an issue with her husband. He is alive. She plans to ask Tovar to help her with this delicate issue. Tovar finds that this works in his favor.

Warnings: planning a murder (I don't recommend it), harassment (Tovar and his questions), masturbation (male and female solos), mentions of sex work, violence, intimidation, stalking/voyerism (Tovar be messy), dismemberment

Notes: I couldn't think of a good name for the Dame so it is what it is. Not sure how many parts this will be, maybe three? I have a new appreciation for Pero Tovar. Let's see it together. 😎

“You can have a night for free you know; you’ve worked with me long enough Cereza.”

“I know he won’t do a night for free, Dame Chanel please arrange it for me. It needs to be more of a client thing, as much as it can be.”

She sighed; she didn’t want to pay such an outrageous price for one night with the man, but she knew him well. He would not tell her what she needed to know otherwise. She knew about her husband’s cheating ways; she has for years. The issue was that apparently now he wanted to leave her, and she would have to pay alimony. Cereza knew she would not only have to pay to talk to the man who could solve her issue, she would have to pay him to solve the issue separately.

“I’m surprised he won’t entertain a conversation with you. You’re the only handler he prefers to get his jobs through. He normally berates the others or doesn’t answer their calls despite being highly requested.”

“The man wouldn’t need a handler if he knew how to speak to the clients himself, he has no filter and is much too blunt. How is it that he…” Cereza struggled to form the words, not all the jobs were assassinations, threats, or bodyguard work, some were from women who wanted an escort. She could not picture that barbarian of a man be accommodating toward any woman unless he was getting an obscene amount of money. Nothing else seemed to interest him save for a friend he had mentioned, never by name. He sounded like a decent sort, how did he ever get to know Tovar?

“It doesn’t matter, just please set it up Ma’am.” Cereza left the Dame’s office, she could get a meeting with him sure, but how exactly would she ask him, how could this be pulled off so she could be eliminated as a suspect? Once at her office she sighed, if he would just play his role and be a proper trophy husband, things would be fine. She was even getting to the point she was fine masturbating and getting herself off, but to know that man not only had the gall to cheat on her, but he was also getting her hard-earned money after continuing his ‘graphic design’ career where he only had a few jobs a month and those she had to push him to take instead of being around the house all day. It pissed her off to no end and that’s clearly motive.

“I should have never gotten married. I thought he understood what I needed. I just needed him to be there. He used to be.”

Tovar was a man about his money. Do not mess with his money, get in the way of him making money and damn sure do not try to take any of his money. He was not above killing, maiming, threatening, fucking and whatever else was required for him to maintain his secure condo and sizable bank account. He and his friend William had gotten into this jack of all trades work together early in their twenties, but now that Tovar was in his mid-forties, he had only slowed down a little. William on the other hand, limited his jobs to bodyguard work, escorts with no happy endings and an assassination here or there. Will had married, settled down and had children. Other people to provide and care for. Tovar was happy for his friend but never saw the point in sharing his wealth or investing in anyone other than himself. You couldn’t guarantee a return on another person. He had found that with most of his handlers, they were always trying to get him to network and talk to people, Tovar felt it was unnecessary.

The only handler that seemed to understand business was business was Cereza or ‘Señora’ (Ma’am) he often called her. He knew she was married given the ring on her finger but not much more then that. She did not waste his time, was straightforward and he appreciated that. No meeting after things were finished with clients or dinners where jobs were not discussed. It did cause him to wonder, why she had no pictures of her husband on anyone in her office, other handlers had at least a few. Was she an island like himself, adrift in life with no one tethering them to the mainland? After two months of working with her he decided to bring it up in one of the many conversations in Señora’s office:

“The target was eliminated easily. I brought the proof the client asked for.” Tovar placed a wooden box on Cereza’s desk. She looked up at him and reached into one of her desk drawers, pulling out blue nitrile gloves and donned them. She opened the box to see a man’s foot cut clean at the ankle, she picked it up and examined it. Setting it back down, she threw her gloves in the trash and used some hand sanitizer.

“I’ll take it from here. The requested item is in excellent condition. They’ll likely give you a bonus for that. That’s all Tovar.” She told him curtly. It was to dismiss him; she knew he didn’t like being in her office any more than he had to. Tovar nodded but did not leave, instead he was direct.

“Why don’t you have any pictures of anyone Señora? Like your husband.” He asked his head nodding in the direction of her left hand that wore her gold wedding ring. She used her thumb to roll it on her finger, her soft palms started to perspire. The woman studied his face, looking for any reason he may be asking this, there was none that she could see. His face remained the same as when he put the foot on her desk. A slight scowl but otherwise blank.

“It’s not like you to pry Tovar. What’s brought this about?” She asked confused. This was new. She did not like it. She had come to know what to expect from him, Tovar was predicable unlike her husband.

Tovar shrugged, “I was curious. Do you really have a husband? Do you like being called Señora? Is it a kink for you?” He asked, half-joking, though it may be why she did wear the ring. Women were slightly less likely to be pursed if there was a wedding ring.

Cereza rolled her eyes. Of course, he’s messing with her, this is a new angle though. Usually, he would ask why she always wears pants and never skirts, even when it’s warm. She had told him then it was because of her legs, though not in detail. It was true, but only because she didn’t feel like having her thighs rub together all day in and out of the office, plus she hadn’t really had any reason to wear dresses seeing that her husband didn’t care if she wore them or not. He was still meeting with his mistress. Why be uncomfortable for something that’s not going happen? “No, it is not a kink. Yes, I do have a husband. Please go Tovar.” She stood and walked to the door, opening it for him as she rubbed her temple, she felt a headache coming on.

“Señora, you seemed stressed. Maybe your esposo (husband) isn’t caring for you properly? Take something for that headache, would you? I’ll ask you again about you and your husband.” Tovar smiled, stopping to tap her shoulder being leaving. Cereza sat back down until her headache subsided slightly and she felt well enough to drink, she downed some ibuprofen she had in her desk and secured the foot in her office safe for delivery tomorrow. “Maybe he’s starting something because he wants a new handler, fine by me.”

In the subsequent months, Tovar would ask occasionally about Señora’s husband to which she would either ignore the questions completely or just tell Tovar that her husband is just fine. He was enjoying seeing her frustrated by his questions, she was normally stoic, so this was fun, having her slightly flustered to where he would only see. Tovar was an intelligent man despite most thinking he was the opposite given his imposing appearance. He was tall, had dark hair, cut close to his ears, the curls snaked near the tops of his ears. He had a scar over his left eye that divided that eyebrow in two. His jawline was peppered with a light beard that didn’t match the thick mustache under his nose. His face was normally neutral unless he was angry or annoyed. The assassin was enjoying himself, until one day she asked if he wanted a new handler.

“Wait, Señora what do you mean?” His eyes wide. Cereza shook her head and crossed her arms in front of her chest, they were waiting for their client to show up to a restaurant to discuss an escort job. The pair usually arrived ten minutes earlier to scope out the place and review the client’s file.

“After these next few jobs, I think you should have a new handler. One you can discuss matters with. I’m not one for discussing my personal life and you keep asking. I thought you told me you were business only.” Cerza reminded him. She wasn’t wrong, but he had been curious at first, just messing with her. But her responses became more defensive, and her frustration grew, and Tovar had noticed for the second week now she wasn’t wearing her ring. At times when they would discuss jobs, her mind wasn’t focused, she would lose track of what she was talking about and once called a client by the wrong name, the client didn’t hear her because they were too busy complaining about the person, they wanted Tovar to threaten but he noticed as he did most things with Señora. Her hair always in a tight bun at the back of her head, always pants never skirts or dresses. Tovar would give her calves some extra study in the off chance she wore capris, the were large and shapely like the rest of her. Normally in dark colors, almost always black from heat to toe. Small gold studs were in her ears to match the ring that she no longer wore. The only smile he ever saw from her was with a client, never toward him. Señora always frowned with him, even when he joked with her, he thought he may get a pity smile, but she wouldn’t give him that either.

“Señora, I’m actually worried. I was having a bit of fun with you before but these last few months you’ve been different. You also don’t wear your ring anymore.” Tovar took her hand and squeezed her ring finger to prove his point, then let go. “I will stop mentioning your husband, but I will not take another handler. You have adjusted to me, so I shall need to adjust to you.” He nodded and then put a fake smile on his face as he looked behind her. “It looks like our client is here.”

“So, it would seem. Fine, I’ll put it on hold for now.” She answered softly, the warmth of his hand was gone. When was the last time she was touched by a man? She was starved, that’s the only reason for that thought. The client was a woman in her mid-seventies. It turns out, she wanted Tovar to escort her to a black-tie charity event, fine, not like he hadn’t done it before. The client did ask about the happy ending service to which she was quote the price. The older woman looked at Cereza and asked in a hushed tone,

“How am I to know if what I pay for is gonna be any good? Have you slept with him? Do you know big he is below the belt and how well he uses it?” Señora’s entire face flushed, and she felt like she had been doused with hot sauce, her skin burned. She immediately looked at Tovar who had a shit eating grin on his face and took her hand again as he answered for his handler.

“I mean she does have to sample my work from time to time to make sure I’m good enough to be an escort right Señora?” He drew out the senora longer than it needed to be as his thumb ran across the back of her soft hand, pressing into it slightly. Cereza cleared her throat and nodded, pulled out of the trance that she was in.

“Y-Yes. I can guarantee that you will be fully satisfied Ma’am. He is rather generous with his partners and doesn’t stop until they reach completion. At least twice before the main event.” Cereza smiled back and Tovar as he raised an eyebrow, he released Señora’s hand and took both of the client’s hands. The older woman gasped and shook her head.

“I may just do the escort by itself. That actually sounds like too much. I got my hip replaced three years ago, or maybe so. Can I decide later?” The woman scanned Tovar up and down, she maybe should have listened to the doctor when he was talking all that nonsense about vitamin D and calcium.

Cerza shook her head and stated that things needed to be decided now so the client decided on just the escort and said she would revisit the happy ending another time when she felt up to it. The pair walked the woman to her car and Tovar did the same for Cerza. She went to open her door to which he sneered and opened it for her, he stood beside her car door and leaned in after she rolled her window down.

“You sold me pretty hard to that client. Is that what you like Señora? Twice before the main event? I’ll have to remember that.” He smirked. Cereza sighed.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to mention anything anymore.” She countered, picking up her phone to see a missed call from her husband. Further annoyed, she tossed it back in her purse. Tovar turned his head to the side.

“I didn’t mention your husband, only what you said to the client. I’m inferring that to mean he does not, especially the way you tossed your phone.” He pointed. “Maybe you should try me out. I make a point not to with those I work with, but I feel you’re different Señora. You need some tending to don’t you?” Cerza closed her eyes. She just needed to turn the keys, drive away, but here she was listening to this man propositioning her. Sure, all of the women who Tovar pleasured were paying for it and likely told him their preferences, but they were also starved for affection like her. It’s why they sought-out escorts, for the sex obviously but companionship as well, having someone warm next to you instead of a cold bed at home.

“No. It’s business, all business. You leave this shit right here. I may be…dammit.” She had almost told him in her frustration. The manipulative bastard was getting to her. She turned her keys and started her car. “Move Tovar. I need to sleep on it and decide if you’re going to have a new handler come tomorrow.” Tovar backed up and put his hands in his pockets still smiling, he knew she had thought about it and that’s why she got mad. He wasn’t getting a new handler tomorrow. Tovar then decided on a new project, he would back off his handler a bit, she did seem high-strung now. He needed to know why and for that, he would need to find out about her husband.

Cerza went home to a dark house. That man was out again, maybe with the mistress she knew of it could with someone else or he could be just out. It didn’t matter. Tonight made her angry in so many ways. Sure, they secured the client and Tovar would do his job as he always did fine. But why should she be annoyed at work and at home? At home she understood because her husband was MIA but at work as well? Where was she questioned about said husband all the time? And now this asshole had the stones to be asking about her preferences in bed? Had Cereza not been the one to set up the initial meeting with the client, she would have thought that Tovar had talk that old woman into bring up his performance.

Honestly…. She wearily removed her clothes, not caring that she was dropping them in her living room, fully naked and walking around her house. She had more time to do this since her husband was out and came to like it over the years. She chuckled thinking of the few times he had come home, and she was naked, and he averted his eyes, embarrassed. She asked him why he was embarrassed to look at his own wife, he used to be following her around the house, craving her, stalking her, but now…none of that. Instead, it was a man who she wasn’t sure if he was just mocking the frustration he read on her. The handler could never tell if Tovar was serious of not, part of his job was to act like he liked all those women, she could well be one more he was pretending with.

She looked down at her left hand, the first day she really had forgotten to wear it, she washed her hands after using the bathroom before driving into work. She removed it to dry under it lest it get itchy later in the day. It wasn’t until she had been at the office for a few hours that she noticed it wasn’t on. When she came home, it was on the bathroom counter. She put it on but then later took it off before getting in the shower and left it off. One day turned into three, that turned into a week, then two, why did he of all people have to notice?

“Well of course he would, I see him most days, unlike my own damn husband.”

Tovar followed Señora’s car to her home. He only noted one car, so he assumed her husband was likely not home. He thought it was odd and earlier she seemed pissed that her husband was calling her. It appeared their relationship was bad; he just didn’t know how poor it really was. He would come back another day, for now, he knew where she lived, he could look the rest up, however, he did not expect to see a naked woman in the living room. He was too far away to make out details thought he desperately wanted to, but he was sure it was Señora, he guessed she was just in her own head as she always was lately, stark naked with her hand on the window almost like she was trying to go through it. Her generous curves had always intrigued Tovar, she looked soft, but he knew he would be able to bend her, stretch her, run his hands over her soft belly, breasts, thighs, and arms, finally be able to hear her scream Tovar in a sensual manner and not an angry one. He found her sexy while she was fuming too though.

To have a woman like that so pissed that she wouldn’t answer the phone from her own husband, Tovar chuckled. He recalled a day when he was his way to her office, and he overheard a conversation between a male client and Señora. She was reviewing escorts for some holiday party and apparently none of the available women met his standards, though he stupidly told Señora that he would like to see her out of her suit and in a dress with his arm around her. He would pay the double what he planned to pay the escort. Tovar came closer to the door so intervene, but Señora had pulled a knife and was holding it to his throat, a red line dripped down his neck. The man left and later was rumored to have paid a large sum for improper conduct. Tovar had held onto the wall that day as he hardened from the sight. He needed to catch himself though, because after the man left, Señora wiped off her knife and turned to him, asking him if he was here for his next job.

Tovar might even be able to have her say his first name in exchange for tasting her wet core as he made her climax twice times before entering her to have her devour his cock.

“As the lady wants...” A zipper cut through the night air and the jangle of a belt buckle becoming undone as he removed his engorged member felt the chill of the air on it, he groaned as he watched her at the window. He wondered how many nights she stood at the window like that, would he be able to see her tomorrow if he came back? He spat in his hand and held his shaft, circling his thumb over the head of his cock. Tovar wondered how many times she was alone like this, without her husband. It seemed ridiculous leaving her alone, a soft sigh left his lips, leaning back into the driver’s seat as he looked up at her, when did this longing start exactly? Only when he started asking about her husband or prior to that? Maybe it was the affinity he felt toward her no-nonsense business sense. His hand began to work up and down, matching his thirst for her, “I could bury myself in you Señora, fuck, you wouldn’t be able to get rid of me…” He exhaled after another groan, biting his own lips as he felt himself start to let go, envisioning her body covered with a thin sheen of sweat below him. He would kiss her and wrap himself around her as he lay beside her, touching her shoulder and neck with his lips. He would finally take her hair out of the little bun she always wore, it would expand from their amorous pursuits and he run his fingers through her hair, feeling her simply breathe next to him as she slept. Tovar quickly grabbed a tissue out of the cup holder and gave himself half a dozen more pumps before releasing into the napkin. Peering back up at Señora’s home, he questioned if he was losing his mind. Smiling to himself, he knew that it was gone long ago, otherwise he wouldn’t be in such a hidden business that required go-betweens. Tovar knew he would have to approach this carefully. His hand would have to do outside of escort work, for now.

Señora was not aware Tovar saw her. She had absent-mindly gone to gaze at the moon. Feeling cold, she made her way up her shower and washed, using her favorite body was that smelled of vanilla figs. The last part of her night was to get out her wand and use it to stimulate herself though a disturbing trend was occurring, at least to her. It had been more difficult to climax on her own, so she began watching some porn, but it didn’t get her going, however, one of the nights shortly after telling Tovar against not to mention her husband, she said his name and felt a spark. She said it again and felt it a bit more.

“Damn Tovar, I can’t escape him even here…Ahh…” A moan left her as she thought of him, leaning over her desk, interrogating her about her husband. The image made her angry, but she started picturing him touching her hand, placing his hand on her forehead. He had large hands, calloused from bodyguard work and assassinations, but gentle with her.

“Señora, your husband no longer knows what you like. Tell me so I can do it for you. Tell me what you need.”

“Relax Señora, sit here on your desk. You’ll forget about everything. I’ll make sure of it.”

“How many fingers do you want Señora? You want me to cum on your face or breasts? Spread yourself for me. I want to see you unravel for me. Is your pussy as tight as your hair bun?”

Cerzea, fingers rolled her nipples and tugged on them while her thighs trapped the vibrating want between them, hips attempting to ride it, the wetter she became.

“Your husband can’t make you drip like this can he? Cry out my name and I’ll give you more Señora. I can bend you over the desk and fill you to the brim.”

Her moans became louder, bordering on screams, she said his name, “P-Pero…yes, fill me Pero. Spread me on…Ugh.. the desk and ruin my pussy…Pero…Pero please…Ahhh!!” Cereza screamed as her heat peaked, arching her back, the waves crashed over her as she continued to whisper his name.

“Pero…Pero…Pero, Pero.” She fell asleep across the bed, her headache non-existent, replaced with guilt for thinking Pero Tovar as she pleasured herself. Her hands covered her face, groaning at what she had done, again. She hated what she was doing, yet she hadn’t stopped these past months. Tonight, had made it worse, he actually said words similar to what she longed to hear in her office. For Tovar to ask her what she wanted and to give it to her without further questions or expectations.

“I’m going insane. Maybe I should fly away somewhere. I need to not see him. Maybe I can find Pero an overseas assignment.” Cereza paused. She just said his first name aloud. “It’s so loathsome. That man’s name should not be that cute.”

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Tag list (let me know if you want to be added):

@fhatbhabie @morallyinept @pedritapascal @pascalsanctuary @nissaimmortal @grogusmum @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @goodwithcheese @iamasaddie @psychedelic-ink @modernperplexity @pamasaur @pedrodascal @marcus-is-my-muse @clawdee @mintypossum @trulybetty @perotovar @joelslegalwhre @josephquinnswhore @mandoisapunk @awilderi @deviinci @secretelephanttattoo @for-a-longlongtime @tessa-quayle @legendary-pink-dot @sin-djarin @maggiemayhemnj @rhoorl @magpiepillsjunior @intoanotherworld23

#fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pero tovar #pero Tovar modern day #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x you #pero Tovar x ofc #pero Tovar x plus size female #pero tovar smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro stories

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dino-fart · 1 year ago

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Getting back into the groove of things after being sick.

I've reblogged some writing prompts, send me some asks with the prompts and characters you want <3

#stephen strange x reader #doctor strange x reader #strange supreme x reader #namor x reader #sinister strange x reader #defender strange x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal character x reader #ghost x reader #bbc sherlock x reader #din dijarin x reader #bo katan x reader #pero tovar x reader #agent whiskey x female reader

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pasc4lfuzz · 3 months ago

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Last day of August and i wanna share the best fics i've read in this month 🧡 So welcome to my 2024 August Fic Rec!

As some of you may know im more of a series person, because i like the desenvolvement of the romance and all the things that led the characters to fall in love + the plot, so you'll may find more series than one shots in here.

I just noticed as i was making the rec list that this month the writers i read the most was @punkshort and @mysterious-moonstruck-musings💕

+18 MDNI Some of them might be ongoing so check the authors blog. dividers by @/saradika-graphics

SERIES

Defying Algorithms - joel miller x f!reader by @yxtkiwiyxt

'swept away' and 'roommates' - Joel Miller x f!reader by @punkshort

Dark Shades of Innocence Lost - club owner/pleasure dom! Joel x fem! reader by @mermaidgirl30

Hot Neighbor Joel Miller - Joel Miller x f!reader by @notjustjavierpena

Batter Up - Baseball Player Joel Miller x Female Reader AU by @whocaresstillthelouvre

Fear of God - Joel Miller x OFC by @netherfeildren

Halcyon - Joel Miller x f!reader by @justagalwhowrites

Destiny & Deliverance - Dieter Bravo X OFC (Natalia) - and Closed Position - Dieter Bravo x OFC by @mysterious-moonstruck-musings

Scathed - Javier Peña X OFC by @dancingtotuyo

Happy Ending - Francisco Morales x F!Reader by @noxturnalpascal

Adrift With You - Frankie Morales x OFC by @morallyinept

the melting point - Frankie Morales x Baker! Reader (ex EMT! Reader) by @penvisions

Notes On Tutoring - Dave York x f!reader by @honestly-shite

Sassenach and the Spaniard - Pero Tovar x female reader by @wardenparker

Beskar Doll - Din Djarin x Female Reader by @justagalwhowrites

'in another life' - Marcus Acacius x f!reader (time travel au) by @punkshort

ONE SHOT

Rotten - cowboy!joel x f!reader by @alltheirdamn

Man’s Love - no-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!Reader by @sanarsi

Wedding Crashers - dilf!joel miller x f!reader by @yxtkiwiyxt

dancing with a ghost - joel miller x f!reader by @huntingingoodwill

Something Unexpected - Joel Miller x f!reader by @punkshort

every breath you take - (no outbreak) Joel Miller x f!Reader by @freelancearsonist

dried blood and swear words - joel miller x reader by @iamasaddie

Joel's Eyes - Joel Miller x f!reader by @auteurdelabre

rack 'em - bbf!frankie morales x f!reader by @macfrog

Date with a Rockstar - rockstar!Frankie Morales x f!Reader by @sanarsi

Hole in One - Frankie Morales x f! beverage cart girl reader by @pilotispunk

Rough Waters - Frankie Morales x OFC (Elena) by @mysterious-moonstruck-musings

Dispose Of Me - Javier Peña x Female Reader by @whocaresstillthelouvre

a litany of lethe - javier peña x f!reader by @kiwisbell

Online Love - Javier Peña x F!Reader by @absurdthirst

mark of the beast - din djarin x reader by @studioghibelli

In Another Lifetime - General Marcus Acacius x OFC! Cecilia by @inept-the-magnificent

Dulces Sueños - Pero Tovar x f!reader by @oonajaeadira

See you all with the next fic rec in october!

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #fanfic #pedro pascal characters #fic rec #joel miller #javier peña #dieter bravo #din djarin #mandalorian #frankie morales #dave york #pero tovar #marcus acacius

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anabdaniels · 1 month ago

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Cowboytober Day 14: Cuckolding

Paring: Agent Whiskey x Female reader x Joel Miller x Marcus Acacius x Pero Tovar

Kingdom AU

Word counting: 2k

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Oral (m receiving), cum eating, double penetration, unprotected sex, anal sex, p in v sex, fingering, filth smut, Marcus was added on this cause that mf entered my mind after that "for the glory of Rome", no beta, we die like Acacius probably will.

A/N: I was unable to post for a while and this is my coming back haha.

Cover template: @saradika

Main Masterlist | Cowboytober Masterlist

Being the leader of the kingdom could be quite a difficult and boring task sometimes, but you weren’t complaining about it, could be way worse, like most of the nearby kingdoms on which you wouldn’t be allowed to take the throne and would have to live under the guidance of any stupid man that had no clue of what he was doing.

Luckily, the royal life wasn’t made only of annoying stuff. Your efficient secretary of state and beloved husband was a great responsible for making your days lighter and easier, both by solving all the kingdom problems he could without bothering you or by letting you free to share your wild desires and being willing to put them into practice, all that being extra interesting when the two of you shared similar tastes.

One of those discussions about shared fantasies was how Jack ended up recruiting the constructor, the cook, and the general of the kingdom to help him fuck you, more precisely, fuck you while he watched.

Joel Miller, Pero Tovar, and Marcus Acacius, some of the better subjects of your kingdom.

The buildings along all of your territory would be nothing without Joel, his grumpiness was equal to his talent for construction. Among grumbles with his assistants and eye rolls, Pero delivered the most divine food known to men. Your good administration along with Jack’s help was essential to keep everything going, but it would be nothing if it wasn’t for General Acacius’ irreproachable work on protecting the kingdom.

And apparently, their skills in bed were even better than out of it.

You took a comfortable sit at your general’s lap, enjoying his kisses along your shoulder and the soft squeezes on your waist while Joel’s silver beard tickled the sensitive skin of your breasts and his rough calloused hand caressed your stomach, helping to soothe your small spasms while Pero feasted between your legs, eating you as if you were his last meal.

You had those men serving you for years, sometimes in more ways than their designated functions, and then you had them lavishing your body with caresses while the four of you were attentively watched, with a cup of wine, sitting naked in all his glory on the armchair near the bed.

Most people would call you crazy for giving the control of that into the hands of four men, but you had solid reasons to do such a thing. For starts, you had chosen very carefully who would be the ones involved in that adventure, knowing that despite the grumpy manner as a common denominator, they were man of character and trustworthy and, even if there was a chance of anything going wrong, you’d blindly trust your life on the hands of Jack and Marcus and knew that both of them would do whatever necessary to keep you safe. The only thing you demanded non-negotiably was for all of them to take a deep bath, knowing that it wasn’t one of their top activities, you understood that most times they were too busy or exhausted to worry about going bath, which didn’t mean you would want to deal with the consequences of it.

Worrying only about enjoying the attention, you relaxed on Acacius’ lap, feeling the hard length pressing against the small of your back, just like Joel's rough palm as his fingers sneaked to massage your tight hole, helping your muscles relax, despite your whole body tensing as your orgasm build on your womb, making you squeeze Pero's head between your legs.

As you reached your climax, you couldn't do more than melt between whimpers and gasps, being supported and petted by the men. When you opened your eyes, you saw Pero with a smirk and a good part of his face moist with your juices; it surely awakened something in you as you leaned forward to kiss him, savoring your taste on his lips and moaning quietly as he grabbed your neck.

The following moves were a delicious blur on your mind; in no time Joel had you on his lap, patiently sliding his length between your buttcheeks, causing you to squirm and whimper, shocked at how such a rough moody soul could be that gentle while taking you and, despite being appreciating every second of that, you couldn’t help but pay attention to the conversation developing in front of you.

“Well, I’ll not insist then.” Pero said with a playful chuckle, a rare reaction to be seen in him.

“Go ahead, Tovar.” Marcus smirked and looked at you “I have other plans for her.

You had no clue about what was the matter but started to understand as Pero made himself comfortable between your legs, diving every inch of him on your dripping core, making you fulfilled on a level you never imagined possible, after all, another common fact about the three men was that they weren’t big only in height. As Joel and Pero began to move, your hands laid on both of them, scratching and squeezing their skin as you allowed your body to move as it pleased, still processing how overwhelmingly good that felt. And if it wasn’t enough, you were forced to move your lookup as Acacius’ huge hand grabbed your jaw, looking at you with a smirk.

“You’re always so good giving me orders, let’s see if this gorgeous mouth is good for other things either.” In your normal state of mind, you would’ve laughed at his boldness, but in such a scenario, your primal reaction was to open your mouth, deeply eager to taste him, and Marcus didn’t hesitate on realizing your wish, cupping the back of your head and softly pulling you closer, letting you proceed on your pace. You landed one hand on Acacius’ stomach, keeping the most stable you could since Joel and Pero didn’t cooperate with your composure while pounding you at a steady pace, which didn’t prevent you to lean forward and wrap your lips around the thick cock in front of you, moaning louder than you expected with the joint of sensations that came while having those three delicious men inside you.

Aside from all the gasping and moaning, Jack observed all of that, unable to look away even if his life came to depend on it. Being the one responsible to fuck you, Jack already thought nothing could be better than that, but watching you being well fucked by three men and enjoying it so much felt almost like a spiritual level experience, the whole scenario of his beloved wife being banged by some of the best workers of the kingdom tickled things he didn’t even know that existed on him. It was the kind of thing he couldn’t explain rationally, only to feel the thrill and satisfaction caused by all that.

Being so overstimulated, it was expected that you would be unable to keep your moving under control, so you truly didn’t realize how much your hips were bucking back and forward, unconsciously seeking more despite being full to the point you weren’t sure you would be able to walk the next morning. The joint of your clumsy bouncing and the energic moving of Pero and Joel made you accidentally gag on Acacius’ cock, and he promptly softened his grip at your nape providing you with room to pull back if you wanted, the thing is that you didn’t. At that point your primal instincts were taking the best of your social manners, causing you to not care as you moaned, drooled, and rolled your hips, unable to say what you were enjoying the most. And it had Jack about to lose his mind, making him unable to resist and get closer taking a sit by the edge of the bed.

“I’d join if I was you.” Joel stated with ragged breath and a smirk, one arm wrapping around your waist and one hand grabbing your shoulder.

“I might, but at the same time, I’m having quite a sight here.” Jack responded with a chuckle, reaching to grab one of your bouncing breasts and squeeze it.

“I can discuss the better view with you.” Marcus said without looking away from you wrapped around his dick, your cheeks red and eyes slightly watery.

“What we have to debate the fact that our pretty majesty is a bit of a greedy thing, hum?” Tovar pointed with an amused satisfied tone that you assumed could only be saw in him while he was fucking.

“Y’ have no idea.” Jack confirmed while leaning forward to bite into the curve of your neck.

“Already know how to negotiate the next impossible building she decides to ask for.” Miller joked taking a laugh from all of you and the vibrations of your chuckle made Marcus hiss with the feeling it caused on his cock.

As it was expected, nature had to follow its path.

The first one to groan and hide his face on your neck while letting himself go was Joel, the combo of the obscene situation and your plump ass grinding against him as your muscles pulsed around him was almost too much to bear, leading him to empty every drop inside you. Tovar followed not much later, the spasming and tightening of your soaked cunt aligned with everything going on gave him probably the hardest time he ever had to hold his release, but after a certain time, the matter wasn’t on his control anymore, so he dived into the feeling, holding tight on your hips as his cum went straight on your cervix, taking a satisfied moan from both of you. Feeling his arousal growing heavier, Jack decided to join the little mess too, standing next to Acacius, and you could only involuntarily moan loudly, already loving whatever was about to happen and planning on focusing all your attention on it, if wasn’t for Tovar and Miller that decided to entertain themselves with you either; Joel’s hands cupped your breasts and his fingertips brushed your hardened nipples, while Pero occupied himself in explore your insides with two fingers, while his thumb massaged your aching clit. Despite the delicious distractions, you still could reason a bit, taking the obvious decision you could have with both of the hottest men of the kingdom in front of you that were dividing your attention to suck both of them, savoring it as you never imagined you would.

All of that culminated in a completely enjoyable mess.

Being more selfless than they appeared, Pero and Joel put a good effort into their teasing at your sensitive spots, pushing you over the edge in no time, causing you to grab at one of Jack’s arms and rest a hand on Marcus’ stomach to keep your upper body sustained. As you calmed a bit from your orgasm, you were leaning your head backward, ready to move back to Jack’s cock, but he predicted your move and held your hair, shaking his head and keeping you sucking at Acacius’ and the general wasn’t up to waste such a courtesy, gripping the back of your head roughly once more his hips involuntarily jerking into your mouth as he felt himself about to explode, and so he did, holding your head on place while his seed shoot on your tongue and at the back of your throat. That was the last little help Jack was looking for, after saw you being fucked and filled in all those ways, he allowed himself to find relief either, teasingly rubbing the tip of his cock against your cheek, letting a white trail on your flushed face. At the very moment that Acacius let go of your head and you pulled back, Jack grabbed your neck and pulled you slightly up, licking his release from your skin before kissing you, groaning quietly as he tasted the remains of the general’s flavor in your mouth.

You stopped trying to stay alert after that, letting your body go completely limp. A sigh escaped your lips while you were carefully nestled among the four men, all of them kissing and petting you as you made yourself comfortable with such a pampering, using all of them as your comfy mattress and pillow, already thinking about when you could repeat the fun time.

Tagging: @missladym1981 @alex-does-art-things @beefrobeefcal

#Kinktober #Kinktober 2024 #Agent Whiskey #Agent Whiskey fic #Agent Whiskey x reader #Agent Whiskey x you #Jack Daniels #Jack Whiskey Daniels #pedrostories #Kingsman: the golden circle #Joel Miller #Pero Tovar #Marcus Acacius #TLOU #The Great Wall #Gladiator 2 #Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal characters

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wardenparker · 2 years ago

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Sassenach and the Spaniard - Epilogue

Pero Tovar x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Delirious with sickness and near to death, Pero Tovar finds himself on the doorstep of a village outsider who nurses him back to health just before the winter snows descend. With a black cat for company, a mask on her face, and a biting wit that intrigues him, Pero comes to find out that his new companion is more than what she seems. ✨ Inspired and influenced by Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander series. ✨ Reader is described as disabled and having hair long enough to cover part of her face.

Rating: Mature, but as always this blog is 18+ Word Count: 7.5k Warnings: **Blanket warnings for this fic include cursing, food mentions, references to previous sexual assault (multiple characters).** Apologies for the possibly dubious Spanish in this chapter, and a little suggestive dialogue up front, but no other warnings. Summary: The first people you and Pero meet in Spain come bearing remarkable and unexpected surprises. Notes: Immense thanks to all of you for following along with this little trip through time. It has been such immense fun to explore in two universes at once, and so gratifying to build a family that very literally stands the test of time. Every time we embark on a new story we take a chance by stepping into the unknown, and every time it’s wonderous to see how lovingly you all respond. 🧡💛✨

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14

Nine months was honestly less time than you thought it would take to get everything ready to move, especially with Beth and Will’s wedding planning underway. But their wedding was now an entire month ago, and you have unpacked every box in the ‘new’ Tovar farmhouse which is still well over a hundred years old. All of the amenities and utilities are up to date and the contractors had done an amazing job redoing the kitchen prior to your arrival, and Pero’s adventure in building permits and historical society red tape have led to some interesting situations in restoring the thousand-year-old farmhouse that he was born in.

First thing every morning - all four of them that you have been here for - he goes out to the old farmhouse and works from after breakfast until sundown clearing out all the many years’ worth of muck and build up in the place. It had been a barn for centuries, apparently, and then a storage shed, and there are stacks of things inside that require going through before Pero can start in on replacing the roof with an approved, historically-correct thatched one like it had when his parents lived there.

You have been setting up the main house room by room, with the bedroom and the bathrooms coming first, and today you’re tackling the kitchen. The fact that everything is unpacked just means you have towering piles of things on the countertops to find homes for, but you turn on the radio to a local station and get to work. If all goes well, you’ll have things put away and be able to make it into town for groceries to make Pero an actual home cooked dinner for the first time in your new home.

Pero opens the door to the kitchen, sweating and already in search of a drink. Stripping off the thick leather gloves, he walks directly to the refrigerator that he loves and opens the door to grab the carafe of cold water you have taken to keeping in there for him. “It is nearly cleaned out.” He grunts, looking around for a glass. You scolded him when he drank directly from the bottle, so he doesn’t do that anymore.

“Glasses are in the cabinet right next to the fridge,” you tell him, busy on the other side of the kitchen figuring out how to make all of your cookware fit in the open-air shelving. “That was fast, amor. Was it not as bad as we thought?”

“No, it’s bad.” Pero finds a glass and pours it full. Gulping down the liquid in great gulps that seem to echo in the still empty kitchen. “I will have to dig out the flooring— if it’s still there.”

“But the clutter will be out soon, which will be good.” Years of Tetris come in handy when trying to organize cabinets, and you slide the last pot into place before setting your cauldron on the shelf beneath it. The big, cast-iron pot was a gift from Pero and you have every intention of bringing magic back to this home as soon as possible.

“Disgusting.” Pero murmurs, a scowl on his face as he pours a smaller glass. “Using it as a fucking storage building.”

“It will be restored again soon.” You don’t care about sweat or warmth – Valencia’s summers are definitely warm – you wipe your hands and move across the room to hug him. “Your parents would be proud.”

“I hope so.” The area where his mamá had been buried was long since grown over, the plain markers gone. But Pero had cleaned the area up and has plans on marking it with a stone to remember his parents by.

“I’m sure of it.” You would certainly be proud if it was your son returning home after a thousand years to return his homestead to what it once was - you cannot imagine his own mamá is anything less as she looks down on him. “Do you want to walk down to the church later to light a candle for your parents?” According to what you had read, the current stone church in the village was built on the same foundation of the ancient one after it was destroyed sometime in the late Middle Ages, which means it won’t be the same church he was baptized in, but it’s in the same place. “It would be nice to make friends with the priest and see if he will let us look through the old records for your family.”

“Sí.” He knows they have caused a stir, returning and buying the land. But he doesn’t know if any from Arwena and Briac’s brood survived past bearing children or what became of them. It would be good to learn.

“In the meantime…” You give him a concerned look. “Is there anything I can do to help you? I don’t have to do the kitchen today. I can help you in the farmhouse if you want.” Bowie has been at his side all morning, but he isn’t much help with cleaning.

“You do not want to shovel shit and mud out from the house.” Pero shakes his head. “I appreciate it, amor.”

“I would do it if you asked me.” You would do anything he asked you. Even clean through shit and mud. “It’s not like I have a job to go to. I’m at your disposal.” Quitting that god awful office job had been so freeing that you had actually cried. Pure relief at being free to do whatever brought you joy has been a very odd feeling to adjust to.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “You do have a job, amor.” He corrects you. “Tinkering with your herbs and setting up your kitchen. That is your job today. Just like mine is going to be making you cum on that countertop when it is clear.”

“I think being a lady of leisure might suit me.” If a life of tinkering and witchcraft and sex is what it has in store? Yes, please.

Pero smirks, more of a leer as he winks at you. “Happy to provide your deepest wishes, amor.” He promises before he sets the glass in the sink. He still hasn’t gotten the hang of a dishwasher and is scared of breaking the delicate glasses in this time.

“You’ve been doing that since the very beginning, amor.” Leaning across the counter to kiss him again, you huff playfully when the knocker on the front door can be heard loud and clear. “Who could that be?” Whoever they are, they’ll be the first people you’ve met since getting here besides the previous owners of the small farm and your contractor.

“I don’t know.” Pero tenses, his hands automatically reaching for the knife that is always on his body unless he is naked with you. He has relaxed quite a bit since coming to this time, but he’s not sure if he will ever not be on guard when surprised. “Do you wish for me to open the door?”

“I’ll get it. Don’t worry.” Any gossip that’s gotten around will say that the newcomers are from America, so you figure you might as well give the people what they’re so curious about.

Pero moves with you, not trusting anyone who calls unannounced so he will be a hulking shadow behind you. A warning to not try anything with his soulmate.

Neither of you is expecting the heart attack that is waiting for you on your doorstep. At the end of the stone path lined by flowers that leads to your little house, right at your front door when you pull it open, stands a cheerful young couple with a covered platter in their hands and curious smiles on their faces. But more remarkable than anything else is the young woman...who is the spitting image of Arwena Tovar. It's all you can do not to exclaim when you open the door, realizing it isn't actually her only by her height - she is a full six inches taller than Arwena, if your memory of the petite girl serves correctly. "I—um—" Shake it off, you tell yourself, realizing you're staring. "Hola." When you can finally get a single word out, more mercifully following. "Qué tal?" Hi. How are you?

Instantly, Pero knows this woman is related to your family. “Mierda.” He whispers, making the stranger’s eyes flicker to him before she offers a friendly smile.

Alana Tovar nods politely. “Buenos días. Queríamos darle la bienvenida a nuestro humilde barrio.” Good day. We wanted to welcome you to our humble neighborhood. If she is shocked to see an American – she can tell by the accent – she doesn’t show it.

"Gracias, gracias..." You feel like you can barely keep your eyes in your head, but you step back and wave the young couple inside as politely and happily as you can. "Entrasteis, por favor. Vos gustaríais una bebida?" Come inside, please. Would you like a drink?

Alana turns to Jorge and nods when he gives a small nod himself. “Sí.” She murmurs before she offers the platter in her hand to you. “Para usted.” For you.

"We speak English." The gangly young man who steps in after the woman offers you and Pero a lopsided smile. Through his thick accent, he sounds almost like sunshine. Chipper, yes, but also warm.

“Then we will speak English.” Pero murmurs, introducing you first. “My wife, and I am Pero Tovar.” He waves them both towards the chairs you had insisted needed to be in the kitchen and starts clearing off the space in front of them.

“Tovar?” The young woman seems to move as gently as a tree bending in the wind. Clutching the platter still in her hands, she stops halfway to the seat she is being offered and sways on the spot. “I am Alana Tovar.” She introduces herself, obviously surprised by the shared name. “This is my partner, Jorge Reyes. We live just across the street.”

Pero nods, already knowing that she must be related due to her looking so much like her ancestor. “Are you from this area?” He asks, looking over at her curiously. It’s amazing the small differences now that she’s closer, but she could be Arwena’s sister.

“Sí.” Alana nods as Jorge takes the platter from her hands and sets it down on the counter. “My family has always lived here. Please…this is for you. A coca de llanda with orange. It is a family recipe…you would call it a kind of cake, I think?”

Just from the name of the cake, Pero’s eyes light up. “It sounds delicious.” Pero tells her immediately. “We must have some. With our drinks. Tea, or coffee?” Coffee has become a beloved drink for Pero despite your love of tea, so there is always both. “We do have ale, too.”

"It is best with coffee." Jorge chimes in, rubbing Alana's shoulders in an act of both pride and encouragement. The young man eyes your Nespresso machine happily, seeing that it is already set up on the counter while you reach into the cabinet above it to retrieve a few cups and plates. "We are curious," he begins, almost like he's unsure if he should ask. "We heard that the people buying the farm were family. But Alana did not know she had any family in the United States."

"Until recently, I did not know I had any family in Spain," you explain, wondering exactly how to tiptoe around the topic. "Of course, my husband was born here."

Pero is ready for the questions, feeling the eyes shift to him. “My family moved around quite a bit when I was younger.” He tells them as if his parents weren’t buried in this very earth less than three hundred yards away. “I have heard stories of family but never met anyone.”

"You are...both Tovars?" Alana has set about cutting slices of the delicious looking cake after you pulled out a knife and forks to go with the plates, but pauses to look between you and Pero.

"Sort of?" Setting up a little assembly line at the Nespresso machine, you start to make drinks for everyone. "We are both descended from the Tovar clan very distantly. Many generations back, we each branched off from the main family tree. I was not born a Tovar at all."

Pero chuckles, wondering what they would say if they knew he was the patriarch of the family and yet not related by blood at all. You are— but that is a different story. “We did not know of the connection when we met.” He explains. “We were just…almas gemelas.” Soulmates.

“So are we.” Jorge boasts, placing his hands on Alana’s shoulders again and puffing up his chest proudly. “I knew the second I saw her. Like…like a fairy tale, no?”

“It is.” Pero grins at you, well aware that your story could be a movie thing that you love making him watch. “The Sassenach and the Spaniard.” He teases, reaching out and squeezing your hip.

"Sassenach?" Alana asks, recognizing the word from her favourite American television show but not knowing why he has said it.

Pero rolls his eyes over to you, smirking. “It means outsider.” He explains. “She called herself that when we met. After insulting me and sparking my interest with her witch’s tongue.”

"He also calls me bruja," you volunteer, laughing about it slightly as you pass out demi cups of espresso. A part of you is curious about just how many witches are even in your family line, but you pass it off as a joke for now. There's no use in raising alarm bells with your neighbors and far-flung cousin right off the bat.

Alana nods knowingly. “If you are a Tovar, that is a part of your charm.” She chuckles. “We come from a long line of brujas, though most of the knowledge is lost.”

"Are you—?" Not expecting her to be so forthcoming, you must look as shocked as you are excited. "Do you...practice magic?"

Jorge’s smile turns a little defensive, a move Pero recognizes instantly. He is not magical, but he is protective of his soulmate. He understands it, even today there is a stigma.

“I have managed to—”

“Cielo.” Jorge whispers, shaking his head warily. You are strangers after all, even if you are distantly related.

"It's okay." You promise him, realizing that there are plenty of people in the world who would judge Alana for the gift she has inherited. From under your shirt, you pull a necklace that bears a pendant with the symbol of the triple goddess stamped in pewter and show it to the younger couple. "I have practiced for a very long time." That is an odd sort of understatement. "You have nothing to fear from us, I promise."

Alana reaches over and lays her hand on top of Jorge’s. “I have a feeling about them.” She promises her soulmate, giving him a look that said more than what her words could.

“We both practice.” Pero offers, although he does not wear the pendant you do. “What is a soulmate bond if not magic? Anyone who will judge for having more is simply stupid.”

"Actually, I have something you might be interested in." Glancing back at Pero, he gives you a nod before stepping aside, knowing what you intend to show this new girl. She reminds the two of you so much of Arwena that he understands your eagerness to share with her, even if he would probably be more guarded by himself. "Not all of our family's knowledge has been lost. And my Spanish is not good enough to be able to read everything in this book. Pero has read through things with me, but you might, well..." You shrug, producing a large box from the cabinet beneath the open shelves where you had been storing cookware not twenty minutes ago. "This belonged to my grandmother, and she left it to me."

The gasp Alana let’s is overshadowed by the sound of breaking porcelain. “Mierda!” She hisses, jumping up from where she had dropped her coffee cup and shattered it on the ground. “I am so sorry! perdóname!” Forgive me!

"Está bien. Calmate." It's okay. Take it easy. Though you hadn't necessarily expected that big of a reaction, you can absolutely understand it. Pero jumps forward to clean up the broken cup and you put your hand on Alana's arm in reassurance. "I do not believe in coincidences anymore," you tell her and Jorge honestly. "Everything that has happened in my life has happened for a reason. So perhaps one of the reasons I have this is to be able to share it with you."

“I have—that book.” Alana is emotional and nearly tearing up. “I have heard stories about the book my entire life.” She explains. “My mother told me that the book was not shared anymore because one side of the family traveled away. But that it would come home someday.”

"I looked into my ancestry." The grimoire is heavy and delicate, but you lift it from the box and set it on the clear counter with care. "My branch of the family left Spain hundreds of years ago and has traveled extensively. So there is more than just English and Spanish written here, but...it is all our family."

“You did not keep the Tovar name?” She asks, curious as to how your ancestors worked. “On my side, there is a tradition if it was the last daughter, the soulmate would take the name Tovar.” She tilts her head. “Although your family kept the tradition of naming a girl after the original soulmates.” She hums turning Pero. “As did your parents. There is a generation of boys and girls with your names in our family for as long as I can remember. I was upset as a little girl that my sister had your name.” She gives a quiet laugh and shrugs. “But Alana suits me.”

“A—a tradition?” Trying not to seem overly gobsmacked, you can’t help the wonder in your eyes as you reach for Pero’s hand and hold on tight. “I had no idea…” How could you be so entirely clueless as to these traditions and yet be at the very center of them? There are swaths of boys and girls in your family named after you and Pero and yet you had no clue. “My mother kept me entirely separate from our family. She…she believes magic is dangerous. But I think it is a miracle.”

“She must have believed at some point.” Alana’s heart hurts at the idea of being kept separate from her family and she reaches out to clasp your hand over the cover of the grimoire. “Otherwise you would not bear our ancestor’s name. The stories say she was a powerful bruja. Her and her soulmate.” She bites her lip. “I have the history of our family, the ones who stayed in Spain – if you would like to see it.”

“Oh yes.” Nodding immediately, you place your other hand on hers and squeeze gently. Reassuringly. “We would love to see that. A-and…to hear the stories? If you know them?”

Jorge chuckles, making Alana fluster. “My soulmate loves collecting stories about the family.” He promises, reaching over and rubbing her shoulder affectionately. “She will talk about it all day.”

“We would love to hear them,” you promise her, water rising slightly behind your eyes as you look up at Pero. To think that Arwena and Briac founded an entire family line – a proud one that still exists in multiple forms to this day – is both mind boggling and somehow unsurprising. As if their love had reached through time and twined your family together all on its own. “Any time you would like to come over and look through the book and tell stories. Please…we are family.”

“I was curious and happy when I leaned a Tovar had purchased the property.” Alana admits with a smile. “We had wished we had been able to afford it, but this better.”

“We were meant to be brought together; I think.” She truly looks so much like Arwena that you just want to reach out and hug her, but that intimacy must be built first. Something tells you it will not take long, but it is still best to give it time. “I will make another coffee and we can sit together? Share stories? The grimoire has many of them. And perhaps if we sit long enough our cat will come out of hiding to say hello.”

“Cat?” Alana perks up and smiles. “Have you found another one? There are so many running around the properties.”

“We found a few living in the old farmhouse.” It had not thrilled Pero at the time, but a stray black cat is a thing close to your heart so he had just huffed and shooed them out - only to put water and food out for them by your back door later on. “We also brought our cat from the US. Bowie is around here somewhere.” Probably mousing, as he has already discovered plenty of prey to chase. Or else exploring his new home.

“We have always found black cats around the property. My abuela said that the familiar of your namesake became her daughter’s and they are all descendant from her. Binx.” Alana chuckles. “My own cat is named Binx.”

“They’re all from Binx?” The few seconds you take to steady yourself while reaching for a new cup and saucer from the cupboard isn’t nearly enough, but it allows you to share a loaded glance with Pero. “The original soulmates…” you ask when you turn back around. “Do the stories say what powers they had?”

“She had the power of fire, healing.” Alana smiles dreamily. “She saved Pero’s life. He was a warrior and fiercely protective over his bruja when he learned who she was to him.” It’s a story that is often told at family gatherings like weddings, so she is very familiar with her favorite love story. “He was different. He had no magic before her, but he learned. He could move things through the air. And—” She gives a small laugh. “You will say it is crazy, but the legend says they could travel through time.”

“Oh my god…” This time it’s you who drops the dainty cup from your hand, but it clatters onto the counter with no harm done as you reach for Pero beside you.

“Did you— have you heard a version of this?” She asks excitedly, leaning forward with hope shining in her eyes. “Isn’t it romantic? The story my abuela told me was that Pero learned magic so he could follow her. She was sick – unable to be healed and went to a time where she could be saved and he followed when he learned how.” She sighs softly and reaches for Jorge’s hand. “The story is told every time someone gets married in our family.”

“Every time?” You look up at Pero in wonder, wrapping your arms around him before looking back at Alana. “Do the stories say what time she traveled to? By any chance?”

Pero crushes you to him, overwhelmed by the realization that the two of you have been immortalized into this family’s legends. Stories are told to little ones, much like he had been told as a child. His breath catches and he blinks several times, his eyes wet. The two of you may have never had children together, but you are the matriarch of generations.

“That part gets complex.” Alana huffs. “No one can decide. Some say they lived in the 20’s but I believe they must have still be yet to come. How else would she be able to be saved if not for modern or future medicine?”

“I suppose it depends on what she was sick with.” The way you and Pero are holding on to each other is like you’re clinging to a lifesaver in the middle of the ocean. “But that is…it’s not so unbelievable, is it? If magic is real, then surely anything is possible?”

Alana contemplates that and nods. “You are right. I wish I could know what it was like, what they were like. It must have been amazing.”

“I think it must have been very scary.” Terrifying, in fact, but you don’t know how these two sweet young people would react to knowing that it’s you they have been hearing about for so long. “Imagine being stuck out of your own time like that.”

“So you think that it is true? That she was a time traveler?” Alana smiles happily, having been met with disbelief if she talked about it with people outside the family. “Then if he followed her, he would be outside of his own time.”

“Yes…he would.” You look up at Pero again and a smile tugs at the corners of your lips. “And think how happy he would be to come home again.”

It takes her a moment. A long pause as Alana thinks about your words before there is a small, but poignant inhale from the younger woman. Her eyes are bright and shiny, and she nods knowingly. “Yes, I think that it is beautiful.”

“It would be nice if it could happen.” Jorge concedes, shifting in his seat beside his soulmate. He sees the happiness in her eyes but knows how attached to the love story of her ancestors she is. “But I would be overwhelmed, I think, if I were him. A whole modern world? Qué terrible.” How terrible.

“It is not that bad.” Pero huffs under his breath. “This time has indoor plumbing and ice cream.”

It takes a second, but Jorge’s eyes slowly move up to Pero’s in shock. “You mean…?” He croaks, fingers digging into Alana’s shoulders. “Dios mio, it’s true?”

The cat seems to be out of the bag, so Pero sees no harm in admitting it. He turns towards you, his frown would seem harsh if it weren’t for the softness in his eyes. “I would have torn time apart to be with my bruja again.”

“Te amo.” The words are soft in spite of your fierce pride in him, and you angle your chin up to kiss him before turning back to Alana and Jorge. “If you require proof, I understand.” Honestly, it would be insane for them not to. “The box on the end of the counter? That is my handwriting on the outside. Compare it to the first dozen-ish pages of the grimoire.”

“It is—” Alana nearly leaps off her seat at the counter to compare the writing. Not because she doesn’t believe you, but because she wants to.

Jorge is half a breath behind her, dragging over the box bearing your list of items inside written neatly on one of the flaps. It was how you kept organized during packing. “It is identical…”

Pero hums, knowing that they will want to see proof that he is who he says he is, so he turns and walks out of the kitchen, making his way to the safe that contains the clothes that you and he arrived in this time in.

“It’s true that he saved my life.” You tell the younger couple as Pero makes his way to the basement to retrieve his proof. “When I arrived at the hospital in this time, the doctors said another day or two might have been too long.”

“Is it true that he could not come with you? That he had to learn magic to follow you here?” Completely enthralled, Alana has a million questions for you. “I— this is rude, no? Asking you this? You do not have to answer if you wish.”

"It's okay." It's actually a relief, in some odd way. To meet family that you can share this part of your life with. To be connected to Arwena and Briac again, even a thousand years apart. "You can ask. If I'm able to answer, I will." The slices of cake and cups of coffee sitting on the counter have been neglected but you pick up your fork, deciding that food and drink makes everything a little more palatable. Socially, at least. "Yes, it's true that he had to learn magic to follow me. He spent a year learning before he traveled back to the Stones to follow me through history."

“Oh my god, it’s true.” Alana squeals, clearly overjoyed to learn that the stories that she had heard growing up were true. “I— how long has he been here? How long were you there?”

"I was there for eight years." Your first bite of Alana's torta is shatteringly good, and you muffle a groan while you chew. If this is a family recipe, you want to go back to whoever made it first and thank them personally. "He's been here for...almost a year now. Alana, this torta is amazing."

She beams, smiling happily under your praise and picking up the newly made coffee to take the first sip. “I will have to give you the recipe, unless you created it too?”

"No, your baking is far better than mine." Although you will definitely do your best to replicate this one. It's sensational. "Sugar still hadn't come to Europe then. Pero's discovery of sugar and chocolate has been a lot of fun for him."

“It is the best.” He groans as he comes into the kitchen again, the clothes and armor on his body rather than just showing them. “But I am getting fat.” There had been a snugness to his armor that wasn’t there before.

"I have a feeling that fixing up the old farmhouse will be plenty of exercise." Still, you can't help but smile at the sight of him in his armour. The lopsided expression on your face is both fond and soft. "There's my mercenary."

Pero turns towards the couple and sees their eyes widen. “This is what I am used to wearing. Spending my days on a horse and fighting for coins.”

"Increíble..." Jorge stands from his seat, jaw nearly on the ground as he gravitates closer to Pero with an eye toward inspecting his armor. "Like you just stepped out of a movie..."

“Movie. Yes, I know what that is.” Pero nods, nodding towards the man to let him touch the armor. “This is real, that – the strategy is shit in those movies. No one risks their ass like they show in them.”

"That's how he looked when he dropped off his horse onto my doorstep, near dead with tuberculosis." You tell Alana, shaking your head with the kind of fondness that only time and distance can give a memory. "We saved each other. First him, and then me."

“How did he save you?” Jorge questions, looking up from the armor before he rolls his eyes at himself. “Of course. He sent you back. How did he do that without magic? How did you travel through time?” That has been his burning question whenever Alana would talk about it.

"This is going to sound ludicrous." Telling the story from the outside really does feel a bit crazy, but you shrug slightly when Alana and Jorge both look at you expectantly. "But have you ever seen the show Outlander? Or read the books?"

“Don’t—” Alana gasps, covering her mouth and shaking her head in disbelief. “Do not tell me that is real!” She all but squeaks out her comment and Jorge laughs.

“She loves Outlander.” He confides. “Thinks the Jamey guy is…hot.”

"Last October I went to Inverness with my best friend to see the Stones at Craigh na Dun." You can't help but laugh, realizing in retrospect how silly the whole thing sounds. "I was gone for eight years, but to my friend it was only a few minutes."

“A few minutes…” Jorge shakes his head. Alana looks just as dumbfounded. “This is amazing.”

"And I will never regret it, because it led me to Pero." His hand reaches for yours at the same time you put your hand out to him and you link your fingers together tightly. "But I cannot safely say that anyone should ever try to travel through the Stones. You have no idea when you will arrive in time and when you get to wherever it is you are sent, you could be in immediate and very grave danger. It is...more than I bargained for. I'm just lucky that it turned out well for me."

“If it is not too rude…” Alana twists her hands together. “Is that why— your scar. Did you have it before you went back?” She asks, wondering if it’s a sensitive topic for you. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

"I got it while I was there." You nod slightly, fingers tangled in Pero's tightening slightly. "Before I met Pero. There was...a man that thought he could take advantage of me. He was very wrong."

“Bastard.” One thousand years dead and it still would not be enough for Pero. If he could be certain where the man’s grave was, he would piss on it. “My bruja managed to defend herself, and give me a scar that made me even more fearsome on the battlefield.” He sounds proud because he is proud of you.

"An example of why I would never recommend that anyone travel through the Stones." Beyond the scar and the loss of sight aside, the assault that you had endured was reason enough to caution anyone and everyone against putting themselves in that position. "Best to stay safe, well-fed, and cared for on this side of the timeline."

“I am so sorry.” Alana murmurs, looking horrified by the idea that someone would hurt you. “Hopefully he got his just rewards.”

“He got what he deserved.” You nod solemnly, looking back to Pero. “My husband made sure of that.”

There is a moment where Alana and Jorge just stare at Pero, in awe of what he must have done to put the terrifying look of grim satisfaction on his face. Alana ducks her head. “I am sorry for bringing up painful memories. My – curiosidad – it gets the best of me.”

“Things are better now.” You put one hand softly on Alana’s shoulder and offer her a smile. “To be able to return here, and to see what our family has become? That is worth everything.”

Jorge frowns. “Wait…if you were only there for eight years…did you leave your children behind?” He asks, confused about how they can be Tovars and still have created this legacy in such a short time.

“Your ancestors are a young couple named Arwena and Briac.” If Alana knows so much family history, she may already know this, but you tell her anyway. “They were soulmates, and Wena’s father forbade them from being together. But…we helped them. Briac learned to wield a sword and farm the land from Pero, and I taught Wena to read and write and wield magic. They…became our children, without ever any intention of the thing. When the night came that they needed to run away together, we packed up and left the village with them. From then on, we were a family.” Talking about them brings a wave of nostalgia you hadn’t been expecting and you wipe a tear from your eye. “You look exactly like her,” you tell Alana. “I knew you had to be family the second I saw you.”

“I do?” Alana very nearly tears up at the idea and reaches up to touch her own face. “Is that why you looked shocked when you opened the door? I look like the original Arwena Tovar?”

“You’re taller, but that’s the only real difference.” It’s sweet, how dearly Alana seems to take that fact to heart, and you nod. “It’s probably why I felt we could tell you all of this so easily. You just…you look so much like her I couldn’t imagine that that could have happened by accident.”

“I promise this will not be a tale that I spread.” Alana assures you, not wanting you to be wary of her spreading your story and perhaps having people look at you as if you are crazy.

“Thank you.” You didn’t think that she would, but it’s nice to hear the confirmation aloud. “I am, actually, your distant cousin,” you explain. “I’m also descended from Arwena and Briac. Just…a different branch of the family.”

“The side that apparently went to America.” Alana shakes her head, amazed at how the family has branched. “It’s amazing. A paradox. You are the matriarch and yet you are the descendant.”

“I don’t quite understand it myself.” It’s all too grand and smacks of too much consequence, and every time you think about it too much you reach a point where you start to get wrapped up in it like it’s the plot of a fantasy novel instead of your actual life. “But…all of it led me to Pero. And that’s more than I ever could have asked for.”

“I cannot believe that your soulmate is from a different time than you.” Jorge exclaims, unable to deny that is what you are because of the matching scars over your eyes.

“We usually say that we met while I was on that vacation in Scotland.” Pero chuckles into his sip of espresso when you say it and you shrug slightly. “It’s not like we can tell most people what really happened.”

“She tells people I am…” Pero looks to you when he cannot remember the word. “Antisocial.” He huffs, smug that he remembered it.

Alana and Jorge choke on this revelation for a minute before busting out in a fit of smothered laughter that makes even you giggle. “It’s true, amor. You are most of the time. But you love your family.”

“I do not trust anyone but family.” He corrects, frowning at your judgement of his character.

“Social expectations have changed in a thousand years, that’s all.” Alana points out. “And being able to trust your family is not always automatic. We are lucky to be able to trust each other so quickly.”

“I do not understand why.” Pero shakes his head. “Family should be the ones that you trust most. They are…family.”

You know he’s right, in many ways, but explaining to him that your mother would never accept the truth about who he is and when he is from – that she would probably try to have both of you committed if you told her the truth – had been a very long conversation. Of course he trusted you to know best, but he didn’t like the idea that you could not fully trust your parents to support you.

Pero moves over towards you and his hands slip around your waist, his lips kissing the juncture of your neck and shoulder softly. “I will change back.”

“Be comfortable, amor.” You nod slightly, knowing he will feel the movement next to his head. “I know that tunic cannot be more comfortable than your t-shirts. My sewing was never that good.”

He chuckles quietly and can’t deny that modern clothes are more comfortable. Less itchy than the ones from his time. “I will be back.”

“So what about you two?” Turning back to Alana and Jorge, you feel the slight loss of no longer having Pero at your side, knowing he will be back quickly. Taking off armor never takes as long as putting it on. “What do you do? How did you meet?”

Jorge smirks, his own pride for his soulmate evident on his face. “University.” He explains. “We were taking a class together.”

“I still do not know how we managed to pass,” Alana laughs, sending him a gentle, fond smile. “We did not exactly study.”

“It is not an exciting story, but it was almost as if we knew right away.” Jorge boasts. “The connection, I mean. It – it is beautiful.”

“Every love story is exciting in its own way.” And really, yours is not for everyone. “It is a new beginning. The start of a life together. That is its own kind of adventure.”

“How is he handling it?” Jorge asks, imagining that despite the advantages of this time, the other man must be having moments where he struggles to understand the world he lives in now.

“There are always new challenges,” you admit, wishing as always that you could simply smooth the path that Pero walks in this time. But you know you cannot do everything for him, and he doesn’t want you to. That doesn’t stop you from wishing you could take away the things that make him unhappy. “It will do him good to have friends here. Family. People he can be his true self with. And…more than anything, I think coming home again will be good for him. The barn out there? Or, what is now a barn? That is the house he was born in.”

"That was the house?" Alana's eyes go comically wide, and she whips her head to the side to look out the window that overlooks the stone structure. "That is – it is a thousand years old and is the house that your soulmate was born in? The one where Arwena and Briac lived and raised their children in?"

“Yes.” You can’t help but chuckle a little at how excited all of this makes her, and you’ll admit that a good portion of it is some kind of relief. It had been a worry of yours that making friends here might be difficult – but clearly the opposite was destined to be true.

"That is – wow – amazing." She lets out a chirp of happiness and looks back out the window again. "He has been working out there. Is he – will he turn it back into what he knew it as?"

“He even applied for the permits we need to restore the thatched roof and stone floor.” It is a particular point of pride for you, that Pero is working so hard to restore his childhood home. He’s working so hard and you could not be happier for him.

"Wow." Now it is Jorge's turn to be impressed and he nods. "I will ask if he needs help." He decides, looking eager at the prospect of learning techniques from a thousand years ago. "It would be beautiful to see a perfect example of how a home from that time would be set up."

“Jorge studied architecture.” Alana tells you, her own pride evident in her voice. “You should see the castles he designs and builds for Binx. They are spectacular.”

“You build castles?” Pero steps back into the kitchen, his brow arched high, and he is very interested in the other man’s skills. The fireplace in the old home has been removed and he wants to rebuild it. “They are still being used in this time?”

“For our cat.” Jorge laughs, slightly embarrassed at the mix-up. “Towers for her to climb and scratch shaped like castles. But I build other things. And design them.”

“Alana was saying that Jorge studied architecture,” you explain.

“And I am a builder.” The younger man nods. “Whatever help you need in restoring your home, it would be an honor to help you.”

Pero rubs his jaw, nodding to himself slightly. “I need to rebuild the hearth.” He tells the younger man. “Some bastard ripped it out and boarded over it. Do you want to look?” He offers, knowing that someone who builds for a living might be a good thing since the bastards to tell you what you can and cannot do with your own property have pissed him off several times.

“Absolutely.” Jorge nods and drops a kiss on the top of Alana’s head before hopping off of his stool at the kitchen counter.

“I’m going to show Alana the grimoire,” you tell them, glad to see Pero making a friend so easily. You’re certainly not going to get in the way of it, especially not when Jorge is practically family. “Come in when you get hungry and maybe we can share supper together tonight?”

Pero nods and moves over to kiss you again. “Do you wish for me to start the fire outside?” He asks, knowing that he had planned on roasting some meat you had bought from the grocery store. While it was not the same as wild game, it was still delicious. “Or do you wish to do something else?”

“No, we can cook outside.” One kiss is never enough, and you steal another easily. “We have plenty enough for four, and we can show Alana and Jorge how we used to do things. It will be perfect.” To not have to hide, or to lie, or to pretend at all is a great gift that you did not think you would ever be given in this part of your life. But as always, as if some wonderful force of the universe is looking out for you – you have gotten the blessing that you needed in spite of undertaking something scary. Whatever else comes during your life in Spain, you have Pero at your side and family to spend time with. There is nothing more you could want.

______

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#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Pero Tovar #Pero Tovar x reader #Pero Tover x you #Pero Tovar x female reader #The Great Wall #Soulmate au #time travel au #disabled reader

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sirowsky · 1 year ago

Text

@bilibiche Thank you for giving it a chance! This is one of the more fantastical stories I've written, but if you stick it out, the ending is really something.

I'd love to know what you think 🥰❤️

The Lonely Castle

My fifth fic, and I'm obviously still in the Pero Tovar pit. Welcome to the story! I hope you'll enjoy it, and that you'll let me know if you do, although I'll love you just for reading it :)

Chapter 1 – Strangers

Chapter Summary: As with most first chapters, this is an introduction to our two main characters, but it's still a pretty eventful start to this story. We kick off with a bear-attack, a death in the family and running from authorities!

Author's Note: I'm transferring some of the @'s from Driving Mr. Tovar, so just let me know if you want me to remove you from this.

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Warnings: Blood, bear-attack, angst, loss, inaccurate history knowledge. Word Count: 7703 Masterlist (this story) Author's Masterlist

Her mother’s shoes could be heard long before she entered the back shed where her daughter was toiling away with today’s labour, despite the soft wet leaves that coated the damp soil. But only because it was a sound most familiar to the ears that it reached, much like she could always recognise her parent’s voices in a crowd.

“Ember?”

“Yes, mother?”

“I need more willow bark for your father. Will you go and get some for me?”

“I’m not done with the latest order. Aren’t they coming to collect it today?”

“They can collect tomorrow; your father’s medication is more important than coin.”

“It’s the Royal Guard…”

“I know. Please… Just get the bark, it’s a bad day for him. I will deal with the Guard.”

“Yes, mother.”

Ember left the shed moments later, having only picked up a knife and a basket. She headed into the woods, moving briskly because of the late hour, and the distance to walk down to the river. It was already midday, and she had an entire batch of arrows left to make for the Royal Guard, which wouldn’t have been a problem if she’d had all day to keep at it. But even if she rushed parts of it, this walk would take at least an hour, and that was time she just didn’t have to spare right now. Her mother was right, in some respects. Her father’s life was worth more than coin, of course it was. But without their income, they’d struggle to survive the harsh winter, and failing to complete an order in the agreed upon time, would not be seen with kind eyes by a customer like this, and that would scar their reputation as the finest fletchers in the land. Truthfully, it was her father’s reputation that was at stake. Ember had had an interest in her father’s craft ever since she was a child, and he’d been kind enough to teach her even though it was inappropriate, which was fortunate, because it wasn’t long until his hands had begun to bother him. Aches and pains that came and went, until they just didn’t go away any more. She had started helping him make the arrows that actually went to sale, before she was even fifteen years old, and it hadn’t taken long before her father simply couldn’t work anymore, leaving his daughter to take over his craft completely. And while a woman working with crafts was no strange thing, a woman making weapons most certainly was. Therefor, it was necessary for her father to pretend to have done the work, and take the credit, and for Ember to pretend that her living at home still, at the ripe old age of thirty-two, was due to the fact that she was the one that was ill. She didn’t mind, though. Her father was to be credited all the same, as he was the one that had taught her the skill so masterfully that she could pass it off as his own, and allow him to keep his good name from falling out of favour. Her own was already largely ruined, anyway. She was a spinster, and the town’s folk loved to tattle about her, whether she was close enough to hear or not. But she never responded to their attempts to insult or belittle her, and as a result, they had grown uncomfortable around her instead. An unnatural silence spread in the streets where she passed, as though a cloud followed her, forcing all sound to dampen, and this had of course led folks to re-name her amongst themselves. A name that was now so frequently used, and well known to the town, that she had even adapted it to be the name she gave when asked by strangers these days. It was only her parents that still called her Ember. Her father’s hands were not yet bad enough that he couldn’t mask his ails when needed, provided that the willow bark brew was always available to him, to ease his pain if necessary. If today was a bad day, then it was extra important that he had some relief, because if the Guard noticed him being unfit for labour, they would start asking questions to which the family had no satisfactory answers. So, Ember ran down to the river, slowing only to catch her breath when she drew near to it. She was no stranger to running, and her body was perhaps not shaped the way one would consider suitable for a woman, as her work required cutting down branches, and sometimes even climbing trees, among other things. And since her father was unable, it was also she who cut down the trees and chopped them into firewood. It was she who skilfully handled the bow she had made for herself to hunt, when their coin was low, while her mother tended to the garden and crops, and took care of the house, and made clothes for them all. It was a strange household indeed, where only the women worked, and it was fortunate that they had settled themselves outside of the town, and away from judgemental eyes. But the strangeness of their circumstances was no fault of her father’s, and she had no blame to lay on his shoulders. He was a

good man that took pride in the fact that his family was able to support themselves, even if he did feel useless most of the time. He had learned how to help where he could, and would assist his wife with the cooking, and keep her entertained by singing to her while she knitted or sewed in the evenings, which helped him feel as though he was at least contributing. She reached the river, and the abundance of willows that grew there, and set about cutting down branches and placing them in her basket. The bark would be stripped later, so that it would be fresh as it was placed in the pot for brewing. She was so focused on her task, that she forgot to maintain a vigil eye on her surroundings, and when she turned to place the last branch in the basket on the ground, letting the knife fall down with it, she found herself staring into the eyes of a large brown bear, about fifty yards away, and she froze. The animal was still, but there was something about its posture, and the way it looked at her, that was unsettling. It was a female, but it had no cubs that she could see, so there was no reason why it would consider her threatening out here in the open. Her heart pounded as she forced her gaze away from those brown eyes, and slowly started moving backwards. She’d encountered bears many times before, but never had a problem with them. For the most part, they would walk away, or merely stay still as she left them to their doings. But this one followed. For every step Ember took backwards, the bear took two towards her. There was no use in running, so she just stopped and kept staring at the ground, hoping that the bear would grow nervous and leave, but alas, fortune had decided to turn the other cheek, and the animal charged. Still, running would only entice the bear more, so she held her ground and waited for the impact, knowing it would hurt and that she might die from it, but seeing no other option. The small knife wasn’t enough to kill the beast, and more likely just trigger further anger and desire to protect itself, so she made no effort to reach for it. The bear did ram her, and the force that threw her backwards was tremendous, but aside from the pain of the impact, she wasn’t damaged. Although, she did have the wind knocked out of her, and was gasping for air when the animal returned to her, growling as it slowly approached. She tried to remain still but the need for air forced her up to sitting, and the bear didn’t like that. But the scream that filled the air when the animal’s paw ripped into the skin of her right thigh, was enough to drown out its own roar, and that seemed to frighten the bear. Suddenly uncertain, it backed away, and when the screaming sounded again, it finally ran off. The pain was unfathomable, so consuming that it even did something to her head, stripping her of thought and reason and filling her with a fear so powerful that it felt like rage, as it coursed through her. She could feel blood dripping down her leg as she rose to her feet and started running, ignoring the hellish burn from her waist all the way down to her ankle. Had her mind been working, she would’ve checked which direction she took, both to ensure that she was headed home, but also to avoid running into the bear again. Her mind wasn’t working, however, and she ran blindly into the wilderness, not knowing that she was in fact running away from all that was known to her, and it wasn’t until she reached a large lake, forcing her to stop, that her mind woke up again, and thoughts returned to her. She’d never seen this place before, and realised that she had no idea of where she was. But at least her head was working again, so she knew that no matter where she was, she couldn’t sort out how to get home without first tending to her wounds. The mad sprint through the rough terrain had left her right leg throbbing, and her heart was pounding so hard and fast that she feared it might burst. But she also feared that if she sat down now, she’d never get up again. The sun had gotten

low, so she needed to find shelter first of all, and as she looked around, a shape that wasn’t part of the terrain, caught her eye despite the early evening dusk. On a small island close to the edge of the lake, stood an old castle. It looked long since abandoned but still intact, so it should keep her safe until morning. The walk there was longer than it had first looked, and by the time she reached the partly broken bridge that connected the island to the mainland, she was struggling to stay on her feet, because the injured leg no longer took her weight. One section of the bridge was submerged, and the wood had grown slippery under the water, causing her to lose her footing. They were well into autumn now, so the water was icy cold against her warm skin when she fell into it, and she nearly lost her breath again with the shock of being fully engulfed by it. It did soothe the worst of the burning pain, though. Panting with the added effort and now shaking with cold, she got back up on her good leg, and was able to get herself across the bridge, through the wildly grown grass, and up the stone staircase to the door. It was made of thick wood, but old enough now to be completely dry and therefor not very heavy anymore. The hinges groaned with the lack of oiling, leaving metal scraping against metal, a sound surely loud enough to alert any other visitor to her presence. But none made themselves known to her as she preceded inside, even though she called out in greeting, so she inferred that the place was empty. She entered into a large room, with an old and cracked, but still sturdy, dining table taking up the centre. To the left was a small kitchen, to the right a staircase leading up into the next floor, and further into the dining room was the fireplace. She stood very still and listened closely for a moment, because she saw firewood that was much fresher than all the other wood in there, neatly stacked next to the stone opening. It was possible that it had been chopped some time ago, by another visitor that had merely used the castle as shelter, and left what wood they didn’t end up needing, for the next poor soul to use. But it was equally possible that someone had taken this run-down and abandoned place as their home, which would make Ember a trespasser. While she tried to think of what to do, her body succumbed to the weakness and cold, draining her last bit of strength and making her dizzy and faint, so she ignored the potential danger of an unfriendly occupant, and leaned heavily on the long table as she made her way to the stack. Her fingers shook badly when she tried to beat the two rocks together to create the spark that would light the fire, causing her to drop them several times, but she eventually managed it. She was so preoccupied with her task that she didn’t notice the figure moving through the ever-deepening shadows of the room, as the sun had now dipped below the horizon.

The man that had taken this castle for himself, had intended to chase the unwelcomed trespasser out, until he discovered her to be a woman, and thus less of a threat, prompting him to merely observe instead. It had been years since his last encounter with another human, and none of the fairer sex had crossed his path in the last year that he had still worked, so he would not deny himself the chance to at least look upon one such creature again. She was neither pale nor feeble, she didn’t whimper at the shivers that coursed through her, didn’t even grimace at the pain she must be in with how bad her limp was, nor stand frozen while waiting for another to aid her. This woman was not afraid of labour, or unaccustomed to the rougher sides of life. She was strong and able and entirely unlike any woman he had ever seen. And he’d seen some truly skilful and remarkable ones. A hint of worry creased his forehead as he saw the angry red blood that covered her lower right leg and boot, and the long tears in the skirt of her dress. Only a bear could have caused such damage, and he was impressed to think that any woman would stand up to such a beast to the point that it would leave her alive. He was not a heartless man, although his former profession would lead most to think so. He had little regard for those that had earned the bounties on their heads, upon which he’d made his coin, but he would never harm a good man, and sooner cut off his own hand then let it fall on a woman with the intent to harm. But, when this woman began to disrobe her soaked garments in order to warm herself, he left the deep shadows of the alcove in the six-foot-thick wall, where the little window sat, and quietly left the room. No woman should be looked at without her approval, and even if he should like to ask her for it, she would not take kindly to finding him sneaking through the shadows before announcing his presence. He knew nothing of her character, beyond what her appearance could reveal, so he didn’t know if this strange woman might be able to fend for herself (like Commander Lin and the other women on the wall), and if he might have to fight her if she decided that he’d been rude or improper. He had no desire to fight her, except possibly in the tussle between sheets, but that was not for him to decide. She didn’t notice him leave any more than she’d noticed him walk in, but if she decided to explore the next floor, he would have to chose more elaborate hiding spots.

She squirmed out of her cold dress and shoes, sitting in front of the fire in only her under-shirt, but she could see no other garments anywhere, so there was no other choice but to dry the clothes as quickly as possible and put them back on. She draped the dress over a chair and placed it, along with the boots, close to the fireplace, while she tried to keep only her damaged leg in contact with the cold floor, to keep the throbbing pain from worsening. Upon closer inspection, she discovered that the damage didn’t look quite as severe as it felt, but even though the cuts weren’t much deeper than the length of her thumbnail, they were still bleeding. She reached for the dress again. It was a simple brown peasant’s gown, made of wool, that her mother had made, but the tears in the side of the skirt were big enough to permanently ruin the garment, so it would be of no consequence if she tore it up even more. It was harder than the bear had made it appear, ripping wool that was so well woven, but a trip to the kitchen to look for a knife would’ve meant terrible pain, and she wasn’t sure if she even had the strength to get there in that moment. So, she toiled away with her fingers until they ached with the effort, but the result was good enough. She used the strips of fabric to make a bandage over the cuts, gritting her teeth and holding back growls of pain that threatened to rip through her throat when the exposed flesh met the rough material. But once it was done, her body was finally utterly spent, and she collapsed on the floor in front of the dying flames.

He snuck back downstairs a few hours later, just to make sure that the woman was still alive, and he was relieved to find her in some manner of clothing at least, even if it was only a white undershirt that left little to the imagination. He only glanced at her form, but clearly saw the bandages she’d managed to scrape together, and he knew right away that they wouldn’t be enough. Dirt would’ve gotten into those cuts on her journey there, and if her body couldn’t expel it, she would go sick with fever and might die despite her bravery. The foreigners at the wall had taught him about infection, and how to protect from it, so he knew that all it would take was some tree-sap, and clean dressings. He stood by the foot of the stairs for a moment, trying to ascertain if this unusual woman’s life was of any significance to him? If he should bother to help her at all, or merely wait for her to either die or leave? He didn’t concern himself with other people’s lives anymore, and there were reasons for that. He didn’t know this person, didn’t owe her his help or anything else for that matter. What manner of misfortune had led her here was of no interest to him, nor did he care to learn more about her beyond her being in his dwelling, because he had no desire to grow attached to anyone, and familiarity had a way of making one care, regardless of desire. But… As far as he knew, she was an innocent, and leaving her on the floor to die of cold or infection, like a useless animal, would be cruel. And while he could be cruel when it was needed, he had never liked to be. He was a hired sword, and little else, so he had grown accustomed to death and danger and hardship. But it had never been something he’d longed for, or relished in, like so many other men he’d encountered over the years. What he longed for, was peace. Not chasing coin, or sleeping out in the cold, or listening to men plead for their lives, or scream in pain. Not being hungry all the time. He didn’t have the patience needed to be a truly good hunter, and while he was excellent with his swords and knives, he was rubbish with a bow, so his hunting relied on getting close enough to his prey for a dagger to reach it, by the strength of his arm. And that was more difficult than it might sound. He sighed, realising the decision concerning the woman had already been made, and went back upstairs to retrieve his coat and a few other things he’d need to collect the sap.

When Ember woke up, the first thing she noticed was how warm she felt. She could no longer feel the cold hard floor, and no shivers rocked her body. The fire sparkled strong in front of her, and the pain in her leg had significantly lessened. But the most surprising discovery her sluggish and disoriented mind came to, was the fact that she wasn’t alone. There was a man watching her from the corner between the back wall and the fireplace. He looked tired and worn, but not so much from labour, even though he looked like a man that was good with his hands, and unafraid of using them. It seemed to be life itself that had brought the sadness to the lines around his eyes, and the indifferent set of his mouth. His hair and beard were long, obscuring his face to the point where she nearly missed the scar over his left eye. She had never seen a man that looked so cold and hard, and yet seemed so broken and delicate. There was something almost… beautiful… about him. Hidden away somewhere deep inside those dark brown eyes. He didn’t move or speak even though he clearly saw her looking at him, and he seemed like he was waiting for something. Slowly, her mind started to put the pieces together. He couldn’t have shown up here after her, because it had been dark when she fell asleep, and people here didn’t travel after dark. But also, because he just looked at home there. This man knew this castle, and everything in it. Everything except Ember. She sat up slowly.

“Please, forgive my trespass, sir. It wasn’t my intent, I swear.”

He didn’t move, just kept on watching her, and she couldn’t read his face well enough to know if he was just curious about her, of if he, like a hawk, was studying his prey. But the more time passed without him giving any response, the more she started reflecting on herself instead. And as she did, a few things became clear to her. Firstly, that she was lying on top of a bear-pelt that most certainly hadn’t been there before, which was why the floor no longer chilled her. Secondly, that her undressed body was covered by a wool blanket of fine quality, much too fine to belong to such a simple man, unless he was hiding here from a past that held more significance than ordinary men. And thirdly, that the bandages around her leg were made of something much softer than what she’d put there herself the previous evening. Meaning that this man must’ve changed them, which by extension meant that he’d seen and touched the exposed skin of her upper leg, with nothing to stop him from exploring further. Her expression must have given away her train of thought, because he finally shifted where he sat, suddenly looking uncertain and perhaps even apologetic, despite the deep scowl that his face appeared permanently trapped by.

“I touched only what was necessary to ensure your wounds would be clean and heal properly.”

“I could never know if you speak the truth, so why should I trust that you have?”

His face hardened, but not in a mean way, as far as she could tell. He seemed almost hurt by the mere suggestion of any indecency from his part.

“You’d do well not to question the conduct of the only person for leagues that can help you.”

“I have not asked for your help.”

“A bear’s claws are not clean. Without my help your leg would’ve been even worse now, and perhaps never healed.”

“And just what difference would that make to you?”

“None. Other than your dead body becoming my burden.”

“Well, I have no intention of dying, so you needn’t concern yourself with my body.”

“Are you always so ungrateful, miss?”

“I know nothing of your character, so why should I be grateful to a man that might have taken advantage of my helpless state, out here where there is none to stop you? Because I can hardly imagine that many women come this way, and a man starved is a man wanting enough to take even what has not been offered him.”

He couldn’t fault her thinking. She was right to be suspicious of a man like him, especially when she was in such a vulnerable position. But it still stung his heart to have his honour questioned in this manner. He took his eyes from hers and looked at the flames instead, trying to let their soft edges smooth away his irritation.

“I can’t prove that I have done nothing to defile you, but I give you my word that such a thing would offer me no pleasure. I may not be a good man, by any measure, and I have stolen things my life, I will not deny this. But people are not things, and I would never take from you what is not freely given. You may have no reason to believe me, but my words are true, all the same.”

He turned his gaze back to her, and she seemed somewhat less confrontational, though still guarded, as she rightly should be.

“Where are you from, miss? There are no towns near here, and no one ventures this far into the woods, through such difficult terrain, unless they’re forced to. I have not seen another soul in years.”

“I came from Boden, the small town on the road to Weston.”

“Boden? That’s leagues away… An entire day’s walk at a brisk pace, at least. You couldn’t have come from there on such a bad leg, unless you walked through the night.”

“No, actually, I ran. I encountered the bear yesterday at…”

She broke off when she realised that she’d left her house at noon, and arrived by the lake at sundown. Had she really been running for half a day? If so, the man was right, and the return journey would indeed take more than twice as long, particularly with a leg that would no longer bend properly as the swelling had set in.

“You ran on that leg? That is not possible.”

“I wasn’t in my right mind. I don’t remember much of the journey at all.”

He seemed to study her closely for a moment, but she couldn’t make out what he was thinking.

“Clearly not. But if you wish to get home today, you will need my help.”

She considered that. Did she really want the help of this strange man, living out here all alone, seemingly by choice, suggesting he was actually trying to keep away from people? She wasn’t sure if he was being intentionally gruff and unfriendly, because he was angry at her for some reason, or if he just wanted her to leave for the sake of his own comfort. He spoke with a strange accent she wasn’t familiar with, and there was a hard edge to his voice that revealed much of his inner harshness. It was a type of voice that she’d heard plenty of before, from soldiers and hunters of men, frequent customers of her craft, which led her to believe that this man was, or had been, a hired killer of some sort, and that maybe he’d exiled himself there, out of guilt. She had no desire to remain beyond necessity, regardless of his manners, because she was anxious to see her parents and know that they had been alright without her. She had slept away many times before, especially while hunting in the depth of winter, sometimes tracking for days before finding her prey, but those excursions had been planned, whereas this had been unexpected and chaotic. Her parents wouldn’t even know that she was still alive. The man did appear to be a genuine sort of person, though, and she was prepared to believe that he hadn’t touched her in any indecent manner. Her dress and shoes were dry now, and if he really was offering to help, she’d be happier to go home than remain in the castle with him for god knows how long, until she could move on her own.

“I apologise for my accusations regarding your manners, sir. I’d like to get home as soon as possible.”

“Then get dressed. I will help you, and we will both be free of each other.”

Without another word, he got up and went back upstairs to get a satchel and put together some things they might need along the way. Strange and unusual. This woman was nothing like anyone he’d ever met before, and he was unsure of whether he liked that or not. She was interesting, but also maddening, simply for the knowledge in his mind that he would never be able to fully understand such a creature. How could anyone hope to? What he did understand about her, was that she was brave, and very strong, clearly in both body and mind, and that was impressive for anyone not trained or hardened by combat, regardless of his overall comprehension of her. He returned to the dining room when he felt enough time had passed for her to get into her damaged dress, and he entered just in time to stop her from falling over a chair with her attempt to walk on her own, from the fireplace to the table. He managed to catch her before she hit the stone floor, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her into his chest to let his back take up her weight, rather than try and hold her upright with only his arms. A movement which brought her face to mere inches from his. She was half a head shorter than him, but with his head bent down, and hers looking up in surprise, it made no difference. Her eyes were brown too, but a light golden colour compared to his dark hue, and her hair was the same brown that he remembered seeing in the cups of the foreigners on the wall. A brew they called chá, made from leaves and herbs that coloured the water a deceptively dark brown, but which was much brighter when it left the darkness of the cup. Similarly, the woman’s hair looked dark in the shade, but much less so under the light of day. She was beautiful. Dangerously so.

“Did I not say you can’t walk alone?”

He pushed her back and shifted himself to her side so that he could lower her down onto a chair, but this didn’t sit well with her, and her face was a picture of annoyance when she responded.

“Did I somehow fail to make it clear to you that I’m not inclined to believe the words of strangers, upon no merit beyond their own assurances?”

He glared at her, but it wasn’t her insistence that he couldn’t be trusted which soured his temper, only her stubborn inclination to act without thinking. It would surely lead to further complications.

“It’s not my word you need to listen to, escéptico, only your own body. Now, can you wait for one moment without doing something rash, while I get some things from the kitchen which we will need for the walk? Or must I tie you to the chair?”

She gave him a positively murderous glare.

“I am not rash. And if you’re going to call me names, the town’s folk have already dubbed me in accordance with their perception, one which I’m sure you’d gladly agree with.”

Once she fell silent, she averted her gaze from him, as though she suddenly remembered that this was a topic she didn’t wish to pursue, so he left her side and went to the kitchen to pick up some fruits and dried meat for their journey. With the satchel slung to his right side, he lined his left side up to her right one, put her arm over his shoulders, and hoisted her up to standing, and without another word shared between them, they set off.

It was a clear and sunny day, and it had climbed high in the sky by the time they stopped for their first rest. Not yet noon, but close. By then, Ember was well and truly suffering. Her leg seemed to protest each movement even more than the previous, and although her grumpy companion was strong and sturdy enough to keep them both upright, she couldn’t just leave him to carry her, or he’d soon be spent, no matter how strong he was. He helped her to sit down on the trunk of a fallen tree, before reaching into his satchel for a bit of food and water, which he handed to her without so much as a sigh. To his credit, he hadn’t complained all that much, not in any language she understood, at least, despite what she was sure could only be a terrible strain on his body, and it wasn’t as though he actually had to do this. He could’ve just kicked her out, or let her stay at the castle, but ignored her. He could’ve chosen many different ways of either helping, hindering or simply abandoned her, but he’d chosen the path that was of greatest inconvenience to himself, which said a great deal about his character.

“How much further is it?”

“We’re not quite halfway yet. But we’re making good time, we should be there by nightfall. How is the leg?”

“Um… worse than I’m letting you see. But the bandage is holding up good.”

“If we had less of a distance to travel, I wouldn’t keep such a punishing pace, but we need to get there before dark. How did you manage to run this way on that leg?”

“I truly have no answer for you. Right now, each step is like a burning sword cutting in to me, and I struggle to believe that I could’ve just ignored that for half a day.”

“People are capable of many things that defy belief.”

Something dark crept into his voice as he said that, and she knew that he spoke from experience. She glanced at him, to find his face even harder than she’d seen it before, as though he was trying to expel some terrible memory by turning himself into stone. But he also seemed to be failing, because he looked more and more angry the more time passed, until he finally huffed and closed his eyes.

“What did you mean about the town’s folk and your name?”

She felt a rush of irritation course through her at his question, because surely, he knew that this was not a subject she enjoyed, or he would’ve asked back at the castle. Why would he suddenly care what names she carried? But his expression told her that this was not a planned question, and rather a blind grasp at something to change the subject of their conversation before his anger overtook him. His own less than elegant way of asking for help, and it wasn’t like she could refuse, what with how much he was helping her.

“I’m not... My life is not what any other person would call normal. People around me find me frightening because I don’t do what’s expected of me, so they make sure I know that I’m different and unwelcome in their presence. They call me Snow, because of how cold and silencing it is when it covers the ground, and how obnoxious it is to get rid of.”

He huffed a small laugh, but there wasn’t any real amusement in it.

“I might agree with the last part.”

She couldn’t really fault him for that. He hadn’t asked for her to stumble into his presence and claim his time and effort, in order to be free of her. Still, despite the multitude of times she’d heard it before, even from this stranger, it stung to hear that she was unwanted. They pressed on through the afternoon, at the same pace as before, both of them back to not speaking anymore, content to focus on their footing, until they passed the river bank where she’d met the bear, and found her basket and knife to have been picked up by someone.

“This is where it happened. The bear. We’re close now.”

He didn’t respond, beyond taking a firmer grip around her waist, and pressing on towards the town. But she recognised her surroundings now, and guided him to the outskirts of the settlement, where they reached a house in the woods which he presumed was her home. Darkness had just fallen, but light was shining from inside the cottage, and he felt the woman press forwards, eager to get home.

“Mother, father, I’m back!”

She called out before they reached the door, so her parents would know they weren’t thieves or thugs, and at once there was a ruffle from inside, followed closely by the door opening and a woman that could only be Snow’s mother, stepping aside to let them in. He helped her to the table in the kitchen, and set her down on a chair, while her mother fussed over her leg and tried to ask a dozen questions at once, which the younger woman did her best to answer shortly.

“When I found your things on the river bank… I thought someone had taken you…”

“I’m alright, mother. This kind man helped me get home. He’ll need a bed for the night, the journey is too far for him to turn back now.”

“Of course. I’ll find you some pelts and a blanket, sir.”

She disappeared into another room before he could even object, so he turned back to Snow.

“I can find my way in the dark, you don’t need to house me for the night.”

“Gruff as you are, unknown man, you have helped me when it served you no benefit to do so, and I would feel unjust to send you on your way without attempting to repay you. A night’s rest and fresh bread for your journey wouldn’t harm, would it?”

He hadn’t tasted bread in many years now, so that alone was enough to persuade him, but he was also getting curious about this family, now that he was there. No father or brother had come to great him, as was customary when a stranger walked in, and when the mother returned with the pelts and blanket, he noticed a worry on her face which seemed out of place for a woman that had just gotten her daughter back.

“Is there no man in this household?”

He was addressing the mother, but it was Snow who answered.

“There is, but he is ill.”

The mother arranged the bed for him on the wooden floor in front of the fireplace before she came to properly greet him.

“Forgive my manners, sir, I was very worried for my daughter. My name is Ethedred, and I welcome you to our house. And may I say thank you for any aid you’ve offered my daughter. She is… invaluable to this family.”

There was a nervousness to her that had nothing to do with Snow having been gone, or an unknown man standing in her kitchen. She was truly frightened about something, and trying very hard not to let her daughter see it. If the father was ill, that explained much about Snow’s circumstance. He guessed that in the absence of a son, she had become a replacement for her father, which would clarify her unusually strong body as well as why such a beauty was still unmarried.

“My name is Pero. And you’re welcome.”

He could see that she was curious about him, but in a strangely desperate kind of way, which puzzled him. There was something she wanted to ask him, but was too afraid to for now, so she turned her gaze away, and headed for the kitchen.

“You must both be starving, let me make you a late dinner before you go to bed.”

But Snow had noticed her mother’s strange and nervous behaviour by then, and it was making her increasingly anxious.

“Mother, look at me.”

Ethedred tried to ignore her, busying herself with preparing some vegetables.

“I know you; I know something’s wrong, just tell me. Did the Guard come to collect? Did something happen?”

The Guard? As in, the Royal Guard? What would they come to this house for? Her mother sighed heavily, and appeared to shrink before she turned to face her daughter, no longer making any effort to hold the mask of normalcy in place, revealing a torturous grief that was living in her heart.

“They came while I was out looking for you. Your father… he tried to explain, but they wouldn’t hear him.”

Her lower lip began to tremble, and tears suddenly spilled from her eyes.

“H-he was still alive when I got back… but…”

Snow slumped against the back of her chair, and Pero could see the pain and grief hit her like a falling tree. But her mother gave her no chance to let the pain take hold, before she crossed the room and kneeled in front of her child, fixing her with steely eyes, and a sudden harshness to her frame which could rival his own.

“You have to run. He told them enough to make them see that you’ve been helping in his deception, that we both have. And since neither of us were here, they’ll be back, they’ll come for us. I had hoped that this man could perhaps protect us, but not against the Royal Guard, that’s too much to ask.”

She got up, and came towards Pero, with the desperation and fear now on full display, nothing hidden or held back anymore.

“Please, sir… please, take her away.”

“Mother, no! I’m not leaving you here to be slaughtered by soldiers for no crime at all! We haven’t harmed or stolen from anyone, we’re good people, this is madness!”

But her mother kept staring at Pero, and he knew what it was she saw in him. The experience he had, the knowledge. He knew exactly what she was asking, and even though he’d come here only to rid himself of a disturbance to his life, he knew that she was right, and that he wouldn’t be leaving emptyhanded. He offered her one short nod of understanding, before he stepped over to Snow, and pulled her to her feet, despite her protests.

“No! What are you doing?! Mother!”

She tried to fight him, tried to claw her way free of his relentless hold on her waist as he dragged her to the door, but to no avail.

“Let go of me, I’m not going anywhere with you!”

But as he reached the door, Ethedred came to bid her daughter farewell, and he paused on the threshold as Snow stilled, and a tremble settled into her body with the burgeoning understanding that this was beyond her strength or skill to fix.

“Mother, please… come with me. If there’s no hope for us here, then let’s go together.”

“No. When the soldiers come, I’ll tell them the truth: that I was out yesterday looking for you, and found that you’d been attacked by a bear. I’ll tell them you disappeared, and that the beast must’ve taken you. My grief is real, they’ll believe me, and you’ll be free, my darling.”

“I’ll be alone… I have nothing but you, I’ve only ever had you and father.”

Ethedred once again turned to Pero.

“Promise me that you won’t abandon her. She’s not like other women, I know, but only because she’s better than them. She can cook, sew, clean, but also hunt, cut wood and make weapons. She’s the finest fletcher in the land, her father made sure of it. Promise me that she won’t be alone.”

She knew exactly how big of a promise she was asking of him, but she was a mother. She had to ask. He had no obligations to either of them, and none of this was his burden to bear. But he hadn’t hauled the woman several leagues’ throughs the woods, only to deliver her to her death. His was a solitary life by choice, and he had preferred to keep it such. But to his knowledge, the woman in his arms had done nothing to deserve a death-sentence, and even if he didn’t particularly care for her, there were few things he hated as severely as seeing women being punished, or treated badly, for no reason beyond their perceived inferiority.

“I promise. I will protect her with my life.”

Ember stared at him, and then at her mother once more, unable to believe her ears, and much to pained to speak another word.

“Goodbye, child. Don’t ever come back here. Now, go!”

She didn’t fight him anymore as he dragged her away, but she didn’t help him either. As though all reason for existing at all had suddenly vacated her body, she turned into a motionless statue in his arms, clinging to his shoulder as she tried to watch her mother until the trees swallowed the view, and the thick darkness of the forest engulfed the fleeing pair of misfits. And even though they both knew where they were headed, neither of them knew anything about what their lives would be from now on. Like a ship setting sail to the horizon, they were moving into the unknown, and the only thing they could say with any certainty, was that nothing would ever be the same.

***************

Link to Chapter 2

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