#pero tovar imagine

[absurdthirst]

The Irish Escape {Modern!Pero Tovar x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 13.9k

Warnings: Rudeness, Pero being an asshole, prejudice against Americans, hypothermia, oral sex (male receiving), vaginal sex, rough sex

Comments: Freshly arrived in Ireland to visit the cottage your estranged grandmother has willed you, you run into a rude Spaniard. Unsure of why he hates Americans and why you seemingly can't stop running into him.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Pero Tovar MasterList ||

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

It’s raining when you arrive in Dingle, County Kerry. You curse your suitcase as you try to drag it along the garden path that leads up to the small cottage known as Fairy Lodge. You fumble to find the key under the mat and work quickly to unlock the door, shivering as you step into the entrance, dragging your case behind you. You shut the door and shrug off your coat, wiping your boots on the mat. The cottage - tiny and cute - was left to you by your grandmother. She recently passed but you hadn’t seen her since you were ten after she decided to follow her dream and buy a house in Ireland. She left it to you in her will with the note, “always follow your dreams” and you decided to take a vacation and check the place out. It’s beautiful, even in the rain, and you are looking forward to exploring the area your grandma loved so much. After drying off and opening up the cottage. It’s quaint in the best way and you check the cupboards to find nothing, not even a pack of cookies. With a sigh, you look out of the window to find the rain has stopped so you put your coat on and make your way out onto the damp streets. You aren’t sure where to go but you googled a small pub nearby so you make your way over to it, hungry and desperate for a drink after traveling.

“Come on, mate.” William rolls his eyes and shakes his head, putting his pint down to slap his friend on his shoulder. “You should stay and drink. The rain’s gonna start again and it’s not like you can work.” He chuckles, imagining how much the Spaniard would curse working out in the rain. When Pero had shown up at his door nearly a year ago, angry and adrift with no plan for his life, he had taken in his old friend. Let him live with him until he had purchased a cottage down the road from the Garin farm. “Nothin’ better to do than drink.” Pero grumbles, shaking his head as he stands up, pushing his chair back. “No.” He huffs, pulling his coat off the back of the chair and shrugging into it before jamming his flat billed hat onto his head. “I’m not paying for your beers.” He glares at the Irishman, knowing that if he stays, he will be left paying the tab. He turns and strides towards the door, not noticing the woman turning away from the counter with a hot coffee in her hands. 

You gasp as the man knocks into you and your coffee spills over his front, soaking his jeans, and you immediately bounce back. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. I- shit.” You place the cup down on the counter and you reach for the napkins, turning back to try and help the man mop up the mess you made of him.

The accent makes him immediately seeth in rage, barely even paying attention to your remorseful expression as you shove the napkins at his crotch. Pero slaps your hands away, hissing at the heat of the coffee. “Fucking Americans.” He spits, shooting you a deadly glare. “Ruining fucking everything.” Shoving past you, he slams out of the door and out of sight. 

Your jaw drops and you stare at the door as he swings on the hinges. You can’t believe what he spat at you and you turn to look at the men gathered around the bar. “I- I didn’t see him behind me.” You choke and the blonde man shakes his head, “don’t mind the miserable Spanish bastard. He’s just not a fan of Yankees at the moment.” He chuckles and gulps down the rest of his pint. “Not your fault, lass.” He tells you and you sigh, “he made that crystal clear.” 

The bartender shakes his head, “Garin, that Spanish git needs to apologize to the lady.” 

William scoffs, “you tell him that.” 

You huff, “doesn’t matter. Can I get another cup?” You ask the bartender who nods. You sigh as you finally sit down in the corner, your annoyance at the rude Spaniard fading as you relax.

William decides that he needs to make up for his friend’s rude behavior. He stands up and groans, carrying his pint back to the bar for a refill. He nods to the bartender and slides it down to where he’s pouring you another coffee. “So.” He leans against the rubbed worn wood and shoots you what he knows is a charming grin. “Tourin’ Ireland, are ya?” He asks, making his accent slightly thicker. “Passin’ through, or will ya be stayin’ awhile?” 

“Actually, I - my grandma had a cottage down the road. Fairy Lodge? She left it to me after she recently died and I needed to get away so I came to check on the house.” You explain.

William nods, “oh that tiny little place on the corner? I remember the old lady who owned it.” He nods, “sweet old gal.” He takes the pint from the bartender and comes over, sitting down opposite you. “How long you plannin’ on being here?” He asks you and you shrug, “not sure. I can work remotely so I’ll probably be here a couple of weeks before I head home. I’m going to put the home on the market. I won’t be able to get out here to maintain the home so I think I’ll sell it.” You confess, setting your mug down.

“Oh, you should stay awhile for sure.” William advises. “Make sure the land doesn’t grow on you.” He has to admit, having a younger, attractive woman in the village would be a good thing. But he also doesn’t want the home sold to someone who would not respect the land, or the people. He can’t imagine your granny raising anyone who would disrespect the lady she had adopted as her own. “Besides, ye can always ask your neighbor to check on things. We take care of each other ‘round here.”

You offer him a soft smile, “yeah…except for ‘fucking Americans’” You scoff softly as you quote his companion. 

William shakes his head, “ignore Tovar. He’s a grumpy fucker.” 

You tap your fingers against the mug, “well, he clearly doesn’t like Americans so maybe it’s best that I sell up.” You hum and William sighs, “well, see how ya feel. You might turn out to love it here. I know I do. I served in Iraq and all I wanted to do was come home.” He confesses and you smile again, “it is a beautiful place. I’ll see how things go.”

He nods, reaching for the beer that has been put in front of him. “Well, if you’re needing anything, I’m at the Garin farm. Ask anyone and they’ll point you in my direction.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” You offer William a smile and he makes his way back over to his friends. You settle in to continue reading your book and you thank the landlady for your meal as she brings it over to you. You eat and thankfully the rain has stopped when you decide to make your way back to Fairy Lodge. Tomorrow, you’ll get some groceries but for now, you’re exhausted. You quickly get ready for bed and settle in, falling asleep within minutes.

The next morning, Pero grumbles to himself as he walks up the lane towards the village. Needing some groceries, he wants to see if old man Sawyer had gotten in those wines that he had asked for. It was hard to make some of his dishes without the Spanish wines and he was looking forward to getting them.

You carry your basket around the small grocery store and you gasp when you walk around the corner to see the asshole from last night nearly walk into you again. "Do you make a habit of walking into people?" He growls and you huff, "only rude bastards who don't notice anyone in their peripheral." You hiss back, stomach twisting with annoyance at the man.

He purses his lips at you and narrows his eyes. “What’s an American like you doing in a grocery store like this?” He demands, annoyed that your mere presence makes him feel guilty for yesterday and it just irritates him more. “They don’t have all the fancy shit you would want here. Best go to Dublin and take your demanding, childish ways with you.” 

You narrow your eyes and grip the basket in your hand a little tighter. "Listen, I don't know what the fuck I did to you yesterday that makes you act like a rude prick but I accidentally spilled my coffee over you and you act like I just pissed in your cornflakes. I am here because my grandma left me her house so you'll be seeing more of me around the village. Get used to it, asshole." You growl, spinning on your heel to find the ground coffee.

The news that you will be here even longer than he would like puts Pero in a mood. “Hijo de puta.” He spits, his own basket handle nearly broken as he grips it tight in his fist. The last thing he needs is some stuck up, American bitch hanging around and causing trouble. Old man Sawyer comes into view and he stomps over to him to see if the wine came in. 

You don’t notice the man has left when you go to pay for your groceries and the old man starts to ring everything up. “I noticed there’s a bit of tension between you and Tovar.” He says softly and looks up at you. You’ve forgotten what it’s like to be in a small town - the gossiping and everyone knowing each other - but you sigh, holding your wallet. “I accidentally spilled my coffee over him in the pub last night and he seems to hate me without even knowing my name.” You huff, “I’m not the kind of woman that’s gonna bow over and beg for forgiveness when I already apologized.” You explain and Sawyer nods, “he’s a grumpy git. He, uh, has had a lot going on from what I have heard.” You snort, “haven’t we all? Still not enough of a reason for him to be a prick.” You say and Sawyer chuckles, “you’re fiery. You’ll fit in just fine around here.” He winks and hands you your change. “Thanks.” You say and make your way back to Fairy Lodge, wondering what happened to make Tovar such an asshole.

Pero is passing by the gate to William’s house, his own groceries in a bag on his arm and lost in his thoughts when his friend calls out to him. “Missed a bit of gossip after pouting off into the night.” He looks over at where William is pushing his best sheep, Nell, out of the way and walking towards the stone wall. He rolls his eyes. 

“What, did she manage to spill a beer on you?” He huffs, smirking slightly in amusement at the idea. 

“No, but she did tell me that she’s going to be in town.” 

His smirk slides away and he scowls. “Sí, I know that.” He grumbles, sighing as he walks off the road and towards the wall to talk. The lane was narrow and lorries love to careen around the corners recklessly. 

“How did you find out?” William is grinning, about to tease Pero for being interested in the American. “She nearly ran me over in Sawyer’s.” He snorts. “Woman - women - are menaces. Especially stuck-up, American bitches.” 

“Now mate, you and I both know that’s not fair. She’s not your ex wife.” William shakes his head, “not all Americans are stuck up bitches…or cheaters.” He raises his eyebrows at his Spanish friend who came to him years ago after finding his wife in bed with their neighbor. “Besides, you always told me you wanted to move from Seville. Said you felt trapped. So you came here to bother my ass.”

“I can always kill you so you aren’t bothered anymore.” Pero threatens, only making William laugh. He knows the Spaniard won’t actually kill him and therein lies the problem. They had been in the military together, serving on the same military bases in Iraq and somehow had become friends. Or as close to friends as Pero could have. Knowing the Irishman wouldn’t pity him like so many he had known would, he had decided to sulk in the Irishman’s home village and ended up staying. “She’s just like her.” He predicts. “All pretty smiles and batting eyelashes to get her way and then she shoves the knife in your ribs. She’ll sell the cottage to some developer who will want to put some god awful monstrosity where her granny’s cottage is. Only hope it's far away from my own.” 

William snorts, “she doesn’t seem money hungry to me, mate. She’s not like her. From what you’ve told me, she was charming and drew you in with a fake personality. This one seems real. She doesn’t seem to be faking anything.” William observes, “she’s not your ex wife. She just happens to be American.”

Pero rolls his eyes, knowing that William won’t understand. He’s not been betrayed like he has and had his heart ripped out. Even more to find that the baby she had just told him about wasn’t his. She had just been planning on using him. “I’ve got better things to do than to argue with you, amigo.” He grumbles, pushing away from the wall and walking towards the road. 

“All I’m saying is to just give her a chance.” William shouts at Pero’s retreating form and he sighs, looking down at Nell. “He really is a stubborn bastard.” 

**** 

You decide to spend the day in the cottage, checking out things that your grandma left here and cleaning it up. You look through the photos she left there of your family. You haven’t seen her for years but she had an album of photos your parents must have sent her over the years. You caress the book, wishing you’d known her more and you wonder why she left you the cottage. She didn’t even leave you a note in her will when you got the keys.

There’s movement in the Fairy Cottage. Pero had noticed it when he was moving some more kindling under the lean-to on the back of the cottage. The sweet older lady that had lived there had been an American, but he hadn’t held it against the feisty old woman. A light comes on and he narrows his eyes in anger. People need to respect that a house is empty without molesting it. He grabs the crowbar he had been pulling old boards off the interior walls to redo. Ready to go confront the thief and make sure they don’t walk away with anything. 

You hear the back door open with a creak and you inhale sharply, unable to believe that someone is breaking into the tiny cottage in the tiny village that you believed was as safe as could be. Everyone knows each other for fucks sake. You pick up the nearest thing - a book - and make your way down the stairs to confront the invader. When you get to the bottom step, you see the shadow and throw the book, a scream escaping your lips.

Pero curses when the book comes out of nowhere and hits him on the head. Turning and swinging the crowbar threateningly. “You had better make your peace with God if you think you are stealing anything from this house!” He shouts, lunging forward to grab the criminal who has broken into the cottage. “Got you!” 

You scream as he grabs the back of your sweater and you try to hit him. “Get the fuck off of me!” You tell, slapping anywhere you can reach. “Get off!”

He drops the crowbar just as soon as he hears that accent, immediately aware that he has a woman and despite everything, he couldn’t hurt one. “Ow! Ow!” He yelps, throwing his arm up to block the jarringly accurate slaps as they strike his skin. “Stop your hitting, woman!” He growls, finally grabbing your arm so you can stop slapping his face. 

You can’t believe it’s him. “Oh my God, it’s you. You bastard!” You growl, trying to wrench your arm from his grip. “What the hell are you breaking into my cottage?” You demand to know, “what the fuck, Tovar?”

He would be surprised you know his name, but that bastard William has a big mouth. “Your cottage?” He shakes his head. “I didn’t know it was your cottage. The old gal that lived here died just two months….” He trails off, remembering you had said you inherited a cottage from your grandmother. That sweet old woman was your granny? He lets go of your arm and grunts. “Thought you were a thief.” He tells you. “Wanted to run them off before they could steal anything.” 

You are slightly touched that he’d put himself in danger to protect your grandmother’s cottage but you are also annoyed that he broke in without any warning. “Well, it’s just me. Although I’m surprised you didn’t take the opportunity to whack me.” You scoff as he lets go of your arm and you reach up to rub it. 

He snorts, bending down to pick up the crowbar and glares at you. Hating that it was you that he had run into again. No doubt you will be telling everyone what a fool he is, or perhaps calling the police on him for entering your cottage. “Might should have.” He grunts at you. “How do I know you even own this property?” He asks, narrowing his eyes at you again. “Wouldn’t be the first con artist American I’ve run into.” 

You narrow your eyes at him, crossing your arms. “Wow. You’re a grade A prick.” You scoff, “my grandma left it for me and you - I don’t have to explain anything to you.” You huff, staring at him and you get a proper look at him for the first time. He’s handsome, even with that scar on his eye, and you hate that he’s handsome. “Did you, uh, did you know my grandma well?” You ask softly after a moment. The curiosity gets the better of you.

Pero stares at you for a moment before nodding. “I fixed her roof the first year she was here.” He tells you. “Delivered her peat moss to burn and made sure that she was okay when bad weather rolled in.” He rocks his jaw, having to admit to himself that he could see the family resemblance and thinks that he had seen a picture of you when you were younger. “I-” he swallows. “I’m the one who- who found her.” Sadness fills his eyes as he remembers that day. At least she had passed peacefully in her sleep. 

You inhale sharply, tears stinging in your eyes for the grandmother you didn’t get to know properly. “I- I hadn’t seen her since I was ten. My parents divorced and my mom…she didn’t let my dad take me to see her when she moved here. I- I wish I could’ve known her better.” You sigh, stepping back from Tovar. “Anyway…you must be sick of me by now. The ironic thing is you don’t even know my name.”

Pero recalls the stories she had told him about her family, producing your name with an ease that startled him. “She talked about you.” He tells you. “Never stopped loving you and talking about when you were young.” The least he can do is not let you think the old woman didn’t care about you. “Maybe that’s why she left you the cottage.” He offers. 

You nod, biting your lip as tears sting in your eyes when you think about your grandmother. “Thanks for telling me that.” You say, sniffing as you try to not cry. “I - I appreciate it. Do you, uh, I really am sorry about spilling my coffee over you.”

He can’t snap at you when your eyes are watering and you look like you are about to cry. “Don’t worry about it.” He tells you. “I’m sorry for breaking into your cottage.” He tells you as he shuffles uncomfortably. He’s never been good at apologies, but he owes you that. “I’ll leave you to your day then.” He tells you. 

You nod, uncrossing your arms as you escort Pero to the back door. “That - I’ll fix that.” You say, not even sure of where to start to fix the door he had broken when trying to protect the cottage from faux thieves.

Shaking his head, he opens the door and bends down to examine it. “I’ll have the door fixed in an hour.” He tells you. “Need to go get some things from my tool shed and I’ll have it sturdier than it’s ever been.” He looks up and shrugs. “My fault anyway.” 

You accept his offer, knowing you won’t be able to fix the door, especially not tonight, so you let him go grab his tool box and when he comes back, you’re preparing some tea. “You want some tea?” You ask, knowing the nights are turning colder here.

“Do you know how to make it?” He asks seriously. “American tea is very sweet….and cold.” He grimaces, remembering when his ex would try to make tea and he had to drink it in order to make her happy. He had hated it. 

You chuckle, “I can make hot tea. Iced tea is for hot days. Or I can make some coffee?” You offer, not sure what he wants and you wonder when he had iced tea. It’s not something you’ve encountered so far in Ireland.

“Hot tea.” Pero nods. “I don’t understand how someone drinks tea that is thick like syrup.” He chuckles and then thinks to add, “thank you. I’ll get your door fixed, I’ve got another one that will fit.” He promises, opening the door and examining the frame. He had been about to replace his own door but he could always go get another one. 

You nod, getting to work on boiling the water on the stove. Your hatred of Pero fades a little since you’ve managed to talk to him and you still don’t understand his apparent dislike of anyone and anything American. When he comes back, you are a little chilly and you pour the brewed tea. “Do you like milk or no?” You ask, wondering how the Spaniard likes his tea.

His nose curls and he shakes his head. “No milk.” He insists. “I cannot have it.” His sensitive stomach was something that made William laugh but milk curdled on him. It was not pleasant and he didn’t want to risk it. “Please.” He adds when he remembers that manners are important to Americans.

You nod, setting the cup of tea down on the kitchen counter for him. "It's not poisoned." You tease, "although it was tempting." Tovar scoffs and picks up the cup, taking a sip. "So...what brought you to Ireland?" You ask, curious and nosey despite knowing you risk him shutting down on you.

“My friend.” He shrugs, looking down at the cup and then back up at you. “You can actually make a cup of tea that's not shit.” He grunts, knowing that is a compliment from him. “He lived here and I wanted a change so I came and decided to stay.” 

You don't push him, sensing there's more to it and you don't want to risk your newfound ceasefire. "Fair enough. I wanted a change too." You confess and lean against the counter with your cup. "I got tired of the hustle bustle living in the city...it was exhausting."

“You won’t find that here.” Pero promises, pulling his hammer out to start prying the broken piece of wood off the frame. “Unless you count when Garvin’s sheep get out and run amok in your vegetable garden.” He snorts. “Nell, his favorite, never fails to end up walking into the pub like she’s gonna order a pint.” 

You chuckle, "she sounds like a riot." Pero snorts, "a handful." You watch him work, his broad back muscles moving and you bite your lip, suddenly attracted to him. He's been an asshole but you think he's sexy in a mysterious asshole way. "You like it here." You observe, a statement more than a question.

“It’s quiet.” He shrugs slightly, not willing to admit that he’s found more peace here than he had when he returned to his ‘home’ in Spain. “I like quiet. Most are bored to death by it, but there's a tranquility in a slower pace of life.” 

"Sounds like a little piece of heaven." You sigh, cradling the cup of tea in your palms. "Quiet is underrated. People want to live fast but I want to stop and smell the roses...take my time with life. Sorry...too many goddamn cliches." You scoff at yourself.

“People say that, but then they get pissed when there’s no new clubs to go to or activities that aren’t for ‘old people’.” He rolls his eyes and grunts as he measures the wood. “I should go get a piece to replace this and grab that door.” 

You nod, “sure.” You don’t question him anymore or ask anymore questions, deciding to focus on starting a fire to ward off the chilly fall air especially since the door is open. You’re bending over the fireplace when Pero comes back in but you don’t hear him as you remain bent over as you poke the kindling.

Pero frowns, watching you poke at the fire. “You-” He huffs and sets the wood down and walks over to the fireplace. “You’re smothering the fire.” He tells you, taking the poker out of your hand. “It’s not like a wood fire. Peat is finicky, but it burns longer.” 

You want to roll your eyes at him as he tries to tell you how to start the fire. Tired of men explaining shit to you at work, you stand up and let him take over with a huff. “I know how to start a fire. Did it enough times back home. God, you really can’t let people make mistakes, can you?” You ask, confused about why he’s so critical all the time.

Pero snorts and shakes his head. “If you want your cottage to be full of smoke, be my guest.” He snarks back at you, waiting to see if you will take over again. When you don’t, he kneels down and reaches into the fireplace. Pulling out the kindling and the hunks of peat to restack them and pulling his lighter out of his pocket. 

You watch him with intrigue, noticing his strong jawline as he clenches his jaw in concentration. You observe what he does and you take notes for when you start another fire. The hearth is soon full of warmth and Tovar stands up, wiping his hands on his pants. “Thank you.” You tell him, placing your hand on his arm, “sorry I- I’m not good at not being good at things.” You admit softly.

“Don’t worry about it.” He huffs out a small laugh. “Took your grandmother nearly a month of freezing to accept my offer to help her with the chimney.” He has to admit that you seem like you are self-sufficient. Strong-willed. 

You chuckle, “she was stubborn. My dad got that from her. Guess I did too.” You sigh and bite your lip as you lower your hand from his arm. “It’s too damn cold to mess around being that stubborn.” You confess, “even I can admit that.”

“Well, the new door will keep out the wind better and with a good peat fire, your cottage will be nice and cozy.” He promises. “Irish winters aren’t warm, but there is a beauty to them.”

“So I’ve heard. I’m not sure if I’ll be here long enough to see its full beauty. I haven’t decided what I’m gonna do.” You confess and cross your arms, watching as Tovar continues working on the door. “You’re from Spain?” You guess from his accent.

“Sí.” He frowns as he fits the wood in and marks it with the pencil he tucked behind his ear to trim a small sliver off. He grabs his hacksaw and looks up at you. “Seville originally.”

“I’ve never been to Spain. I’ve heard it’s gorgeous. And I think they used Seville for some Game of Thrones locations. There’s so many places I haven’t been that I want to go to.” You sigh, leaning back against the counter. “You must’ve been a lot of places, having such easy access to Europe.”

“It is not hard to travel.” He admits. “But your country is larger than all of Europe combined.” He had been amazed when he had come over to meet his ex’s family. “The flights are short if you want to go on a holiday.”

You shrug, “and expensive as hell. Two hundred bucks average for a flight to another state and nothing as old as what Europe has to offer. I am thinking I might travel to Germany or Austria. Check out the Christmas markets.” You admit, “I miss home but I needed a change.”

“Sounds like more than an inherited house brings you over the pond.” Pero finishes cutting the piece and fits it back into the frame, grunting happily when it fits snugly. He nails it in place as he waits for you to answer him.

You sigh, “I wasn’t happy. I was working twelve hour days. Going on endless first and second dates but couldn’t find a man ready to commit. I was working hard to pay my rent but had nothing left to enjoy myself and I- I got sick of the rat race. I needed to leave the city before it killed me. That kind of life…it gets to you eventually. The loneliness.” You mutter, glancing over at the fire.

He snorts, having no problem being alone himself, but that was after the betrayal. Before then, he had imagined spending the rest of his life with his ex. “If you're alone, only you can disappoint yourself.” He tells you, knocking the last nail in place and starting to take the door off the hinges.

You sense there’s more to his words than he’s letting on but you ignore it, sipping your tea while he works on the door. It doesn’t take him long to get the new one swinging and he adjusts the lock. “There you go, señorita. A new door.” He announces and you snort, “least you could do since you’re the one who tore it off its hinges.”

“It was a shit door.” He grumbles, rubbing the back of his neck before he bends down and picks up his tool box. “Next time I’ll knock to scare away potential thieves.” He tells you before he nods. “Thanks for the tea.” He murmurs before stepping out and closing the door behind him. He had lost a few hours of work fixing your door and now he needs to get back to it.

You huff as he shuts the door behind him, not even saying goodbye and you glance over at the fire. Just when you thought he could be a decent person to talk to, he shuts up again. “Whatever.” You mutter to yourself and get ready to settle in on the sofa to read before you go to bed. You’re not here to be friends with Tovar. You’re here to find yourself.

****

Over the next few days, Pero keeps busy. His home is still a work in progress, the addition done poorly so he’s having to redo a lot of it. Helping William out on his farm when he needs. Keeping busy and keeping his mind off the neighbor. Sure, he’s checked on the cottage when he’s outside or looking out those windows, but he doesn’t make any effort to speak to you again, knowing that you’re nothing but trouble. 

Your days are filled with exploring the village and then working remotely in the afternoon. You’ve actually never felt so at peace. You don’t see Tovar, which is a blessing in disguise. The man still rubs you the wrong way but you find yourself thinking about those brown eyes…even when they are narrowed in hatred towards you. You close your laptop, glancing out at the beautiful sky. It’s cloudy today but still gorgeous so you decide to go for a walk, explore the area some more. After putting on your boots and coat, you lock up the cottage and get started on your exploration.

Pero grumbles at the sky, loading his truck to go help William with the roof of his barn. Wanting to get it done before the rains came again. He gets behind the wheel and starts down the road towards his farm. Traveling about a mile before he sees a figure walking along the wrong side of the road. He scoffs and shakes his head, knowing exactly who it is. Slowing down, he rolls down his window and sticks his head out. “You’re gonna get wet.” He shouts. “Go home.”

You turn your head to see Tovar and you shake your head, looking up at the sky. “Only woman to get wet around you in a while, huh?” You tease with a smirk and he huffs, gripping the steering wheel. “Fine. If you want to get rained on.” You nod, “all part of the experience.” You tell him, “the Irish way of life.”

Pero snorts. “Crazy Americans.” He huffs, handing his hand out the window as he drives past you. You’ll learn. Your coat isn’t enough for the rain that is coming and you will look like a drowned rat if you get caught out in it.

You are stubborn. Something your mother told you was just like your father. Much to her annoyance. You continue walking after Tovar drives off and the wind starts to pick up. You shiver, pulling your coat tighter around you and you look up at the sky as the rain clouds come in. "Bastard." You curse Tovar for being right as you decide to head back to the village.

The last piece of roofing was being nailed into place when the first splatters of rain hit Tovar’s back. “Mierda.” He hisses, glancing up and wincing when a droplet hits him in the eye. 

“Good thing we finished. It’s gonna be a blustery one for sure.” William agrees, wiping his forehead and shoving his hammer back into his tool belt. “You should go home. The sheep will come back and file into their barn quickly and I’m gonna shower and build my fire up.” He tells his friend. “You should do the same.”

You shiver as the rain comes down and you struggle to get back to cottage. The wind is strong and pushing you back as you try to get back as the rain pelts at your face. You curse Tovar for being right. You wish you had gotten a ride.

The rain is coming down in sheets, making it nearly impossible to see in front of the truck as Pero makes his way back to his cottage. He has to admit that he had gotten busy and didn’t look for you like he had thought to. Surely you had turned back and was cozy and warm in your cottage. He believes that until he damn near hits you. Swerving and nearly running off the road to keep from killing you because you’re walking in the damn middle. Cursing, Pero slams out of the truck, instantly drenched by the downpour. “Are you out of your fucking mind?” He yells, running up and grabbing your arms.

Your teeth are chattering so hard you can barely speak as Tovar grabs you and drags you into his van. You shake so hard your vision is blurry as the windscreen wipers work overtime. He slams the door shut and drives towards the village, cursing that he's soaking wet and you know you're both going to get sick from this chill.

The heater in his little lorry barely works, but Tovar blasts it, pointing the vents towards you. “Idiot.” He hisses. “You should have your pants pulled down and your ass whipped until you cannot sit.” He wipes his face and presses the gas, needing to get you home and out of those soaked clothes. “I told you to go home, but you’re too fucking pig-headed to listen.”

Your teeth chatter but you manage to say “fu-fuck you. I- I was on the way home.” You tell him and place your hands closer to his air vents. You desperately want the heat to seep into your bones and you shiver as Tovar races to your cottage.

“You would have already been home if you had listened to me.” He reminds you, taking one hand off the wheel to start shrugging out of his coat. It’s damp, but it has to be warmer than what you have on. “Stubborn Americans who think they know it all.” 

You gasp, inhaling the warm air from the heater. "Wha- what th- the hell is wrong with - why the fu- fuck do you hate Am- Americans?" You ask him, still shaking. You watch as he hands his coat to you. "Put this on." He growls and you don't argue, wrapping his coat around you.

Pero whips his van into the small spot that is closest to your cottage and hisses a curse as he jumps out to run around to your door. Knowing that he needs to get you inside as quickly as possible. Get a fire started and get you stripped out of those clothes. Yanking your door open, he drags you out of the seat and tries to shield you from the rain as much as possible. You are shaking violently and he knows you’re close to, if not already, hypothermic. “Inside.” 

You nod, letting him take you inside. You didn’t lock the cottage - having heard from the villagers that nothing happens - so Pero shuffles you inside and immediately starts to strip off the coats. You should be embarrassed and angry that he’s stripping clothes off of you but you’re so freezing you don’t care. You shiver and he helps you out of your boots. “Wh-why are you doing this?” You ask, watching him as he leaves you in your soaking wet jeans to work on getting the fire going.

“You could die.” He spits, his hands working quick and steady as he stacks the peat and kindling to light. He needs to get you warm and dry as fast as he can. The damp chill could have you sick with pneumonia within a day if you aren’t careful. As soon as the tender starts to smoke, he turns towards you and unbuttons his flannel shirt. Body head is needed. Stomping off towards your bedroom, he strips the quilts and blankets off of it before coming back into the main room. “Can you take your clothes off, or do I need to do it?” 

Your eyes widen at his broad chest as he comes back into the living room with the blankets. You nod, teeth still shattering as you work on removing your wet clothes until you are in your underwear, wrapping your arms around yourself. “Sur-surprised you - you care so much.” You choke out, still freezing cold.

He grunts, rolling his eyes and nearly tells you that he doesn’t care but that wouldn’t be truthful. He doesn’t want to find another member of your family dead. He spreads a blanket on the floor in front of the fire and pushes you towards it. “Lay down.” He orders, immediately starting to strip off the rest of his clothes, including his underwear. He knows you might be prudish like most Americans, but when you are trying to warm up, you can't wear any wet clothes and your panties look soaked. He ignores your gasp and drops to his knees, gathering the rest of the blankets at his back and reaches for your panties, pulling at them to take them off and they shred apart in his hands. 

You gasp, knowing you should push him away but when he pulls you close, into his body, into his warmth, you shudder and inhale deeply. Feeling the sensations come back into your body as you give in and curl around him. Breathing him in, you lift your leg over his, trying to get even closer to him, seeking his warmth.

His hands start rubbing, massaging heat and feeling back into your body. He thinks about anything but the softness of your breasts pressed against him. Knowing that if it weren’t for this serious situation, you would not be naked in his arms. “You’ll get warm.” He promises, feeling you shake and your teeth chatter. Your body is like ice and he shudders slightly as he transfers his heat to you under the weight of the blankets. 

You breathe him in, thankful for him showing up to save you even if you’ve not gotten along so far. His hands rubbing all over your back and you eventually relax, the shivering stopping as you warm up. You kiss his chest, silently thanking him for finding you even if you can’t vocalize that right now as you curl around him, seeking his warmth.

He knows you will get sleepy, it’s your body’s way to try to recover from the energy it had expelled to try to keep you warm. “Go to sleep, espléndida.” He murmurs quietly. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re safe.” He knows that he can’t pull away right now. Even though you are warmer, you still need more of his body heat to fully warm up. 

You mumble into his chest, listening to his beating heart as you fall asleep in his grip, feeling safe despite the man curled around you being insufferable in every interaction you’ve had. You aren’t sure how long you’ve been asleep when you wake up alone, the blankets wrapped around you, the fire roaring and you hear noise coming from the tiny kitchen. “What - Tovar?” You croak, wondering where he went.

His boxers on his hips, Pero appears in the doorway as soon as you call him. “Wait.” He orders, not wanting you to get up. Disappearing again and within seconds, he is coming back into the room with a tray. It was one your grandmother had often served him tea on, so he was familiar with it. Your cup of tea is in addition to a mug of soup. You need something warm in you. The hearty stew was one that your grandmother had canned two years ago, so he knew the rich broth would be good. 

You sit up, keeping the blanket tight to your chest as he carries the tray over and he has his boxers on. Shit, he’s attractive. More than that…he’s hot. Really hot. You swallow harshly, throat dry as he sets the tray down in front of you. “Thank you.” You tell him, looking at him as he sits down next to you. “This is - you poison it?” You tease softly, voice a little raw from the cold wind you breathed in earlier.

He snorts and shakes his head. “Not poisoned.” He huffs. “I just saved your life, why would I poison you?” He asks, picking up the tea and handing it to you. “It’s got honey and lemon in it, your throat will be raw.” He murmurs, blowing on the steaming liquid slightly before he hands it off. 

You take it, your fingers brushing his, and you moan softly as the tea soothes your sore throat. “I- I don’t really know how to start saying thank you for saving my life. I would’ve frozen out there. I didn’t think the storm would come in so quick.” You confess, watching him as the flames and shadows flicker over his face. “I guess I can start by saying thank you.” You say after taking another sip.

“You’re welcome.” Pero is slightly surprised that there’s no sarcasm in your statement. “Almost ran to my house to get some whiskey to pour in it, but it’s still raining outside.” He tells you, the rain beating against the windows. “So, it’s not quite as good as it could be. But I made you some stew.” 

You set the tea down and pick up the mug of broth, taking a sip and you groan. “You made this?” You ask and he shakes his head. “Your grandmother. She made it. Canned it a couple of years ago. She gave me some jars.” He reveals and your eyes widen as you look down at the cup in your hands, “I wish I could’ve known her better.” You sigh, “she seemed like a great woman. I- I’m writing a book about her. That’s why I came here. She fell in love with Ireland and I’m writing a romance novel based on her life.” You confess, “her grand escape to Ireland after divorcing her husband.”

He’s surprised by that, lifting his brows and humming. “A romance?” He should scoff, but he can’t manage the sound to come out of his throat. “I guess Ireland would be a romantic place to escape. If you’re looking for that.” 

You sip your broth before you look at him. “I must admit I had my wild fantasies dreaming about meeting a handsome man in Ireland and shacking up in a cottage to love our lives away but I- I know that’s - it’s silly.” You shake your head, “especially when I literally bumped into you and you hate Americans.”

“You would hate Spaniards if your ex was one.” Pero tells you. “Especially if he had cheated on you. Even though he would be an idiot to cheat.” 

You frown, setting the broth mug down. “You think…your ex was American?” You ask, confused and curious. “And she - shit - she cheated on you?”

Pero sighs, looking out the window. “Sí.” He murmurs. “We were- I met her when we were both stationed on the same base in Iraq. She was with the Americans, I was with …anyway,” he shakes his head. “We got married. She was pregnant. They made her leave her military position and we went to Spain.” He blows out a sigh. “And I found out later that she was cheating on me and the baby wasn’t even mine.”

You inhale sharply, “shit. I- I'm so sorry. That's - Wow. What a shitty thing to do. It’s - that’s monstrous. I’m so sorry Tovar-” You ramble and he cuts you off. “Pero. My first name is Pero.” He says and you nod, “Pero.” You say softly, “I’m sorry that happened to you. No one deserves that. Is that why…why you hate me? Because of my accent? My homeland?”

“She was just as stubborn as you are. Always right and having to have her way.” He shrugs. “I guess that I just don’t like women right now.” He admits after a moment. “I gave my heart to that woman and she tried to pass off the proof of her infidelity as my child.” He growls.

You shake your head, shifting closer to him to reach for his hand. “I’m sorry that happened to you, Pero. No one deserves that. I - I can understand why I triggered that anger in you. That’s unforgivable and I’m sorry someone did that to you.”

That bastard William had told him that you weren’t his ex. Pero rubs his cheek. “It’s not your fault.” He admits quietly. “You aren’t her and I shouldn’t have been an asshole to you,”

You sigh, letting go of his hand, “and I shouldn’t have been a bitch but I’ve never been good at people not giving me a chance.” You confess and sip your tea. “Can we start again?” You ask and he stares at you so you set your cup down, holding out your name. You introduce yourself, “and you are?” You ask, offering him a playful smile.

He grunts, watching you for a moment. “Pero Tovar.” He tells you. “Grumpy asshole from Spain.”

You chuckle, “great to meet you, grumpy asshole from Spain who saved my life.” You add and he shakes your hand. You stare at him, your smile fading as his grip on your hand is tight, reluctant to let go. You keep holding his hand, your eyes searching his as you keep the blankets close to your chest to keep you covered up until you let it drop, exposing your skin to his eyes.

Pero’s eyes widen and drop down to your breasts for a moment before he jerks his gaze back up to your face. “Hermosa….” He grunts, confused as to why you are showing him your body. “You don’t owe me anything.” He promises.

You nod, "I know. I- I'm not saying thank you. Well, I am. But not like that. I - I think you're handsome." You confess, "...sexy." You add and he frowns softly. "If you don't..." You trail off and reach to pull the blankets up your body, standing up on shaky legs. "Do you want a drink? I think my grandma had a bottle of brandy." You make your way into the kitchen, blanket wrapped around your body.

He thinks he’s embarrassed you and he doesn’t want that. He can’t deny you’re beautiful and he had been fighting an erection the entire time you were asleep once you were warm. Standing up, Pero pulls off his boxers and follows you into the kitchen to find you standing at your grandmother’s drink cabinet. “Do you want me to touch you, hermosa?” He asks, bracing his arms on the counter and trapping you against it,  his lips close to your ear. “You are a beautiful woman, and I would enjoy finding out what makes you shake in pleasure.”

You whimper, unable to control the shiver that runs along your spine as he hovers behind you. You want him to touch you. He's been a bastard but you would be dead if it weren't for him. You understand now why he was antagonized by you and you forgive him for his barbs. You lean back against him after letting the blanket drop from your body. "I want you to touch me." You whisper, turning your head to look at him, your lips brushing his chin.

“I’m not gentle.” He warns, knowing that it’s been too long since he has touched anyone and he’s not a suave lover like Garin claims to be. He slides his hand up to grab your breast and squeezes the flesh.

“I don’t need gentle. I don’t want gentle.” You tell him, covering his hand over your breast and you squeeze a little harder. “I want you.” You add, kissing his jaw.

Pero growls, his hardening cock pressing against your ass. “Drop the blanket.”  He orders, pulling you away from the counter and dragging you towards the main room. If he’s going to touch you, it will be in front of that fire so you stay warm. 

You follow his order, nearly tripping over the blanket as he guides you into the living room and you whimper as he lays you down on the blankets you still have piled near the fire. You lay down, waiting for him to touch you as he kneels down near you. “Pero.” You whisper, biting your lip as you wait for him to make the first move.

He watches you for a moment before he lunges forward, his lips smashing against yours in a hard kiss. Covering your body with his and pushing your thighs apart with his knee to settle between them. Groaning into your mouth at the taste of you as his hands fill themselves with your breasts and hips.

You moan into his mouth, your hands caressing his back as he kneels over you, his hands squeezing your flesh. His tongue slides into your mouth and you eagerly grant him access with a low groan of his name muffled against your lips. Your hands slide down to his ass, squeezing and bringing him closer so his cock is pressing against your thigh.

Pero rocks against your thigh, groaning and pinching your nipple harshly. Kissing down your throat and biting down on your shoulder before he ducks his head and sucks your nipple into his mouth to bite.

"Fuck." You hiss in pleasure as he grinds against you and sucks on your nipple, paying it attention until you are swapping over to suck on the neglected one. "Shit baby." You pant, reaching between you to wrap your fingers around his thick cock.

Pero groans at the feel of your hand. It’s been so long since he’s felt any touch but his own. His cock twitches and his hips buck into your grip. He lavishes attention on you, loving the way you moan.

You twist your arm, trying to jerk him off as he surrounds you, the spicy scent of his skin combined with the smoke from the fire he started. Your free hand slides through his hair as he kisses the skin below your breast and you whimper, getting wetter with each kiss.

Pero is a harsh lover, he bites and scratches and fucks hard, but he’s also attentive. He wants his partner to feel good. To drown in him. Scattering bites over your skin, he works his way south, nipping your hip bone. “When was the last time you were devoured, hermosa?” He demands, cutting his dark gaze back up to your face.

Your chest heaves as you look into his dark eyes, hungry with desire for you and you don't remember the last time you were devoured. You shake your head, "I- too long ago. My ex...he didn't - he didn't do that." You confess breathlessly.

Pero snorts, shaking his head at your worthless ex. “Then you will remember this.” He promises. His tongue slides around your hip bone, dragging across your stomach as he settles his broad shoulders between your thighs and pushes them up to rest there. Making a show of settling in to look down at you glistening cunt. “Such a pretty cunt too.” He smirks, looking up at you again as he lowers his mouth to your folds and winking right before he dives in.

"Shit!" You squeak, thighs clenching against his head in surprise as he licks into you like a man starved. "Pero." You gasp as he flattens his tongue against your clit until he decides to suck it between his lips. Your hands tangle in his hair as you slump back to look up at the wooden beams on the ceiling.

He loves eating a woman out. Loves her taste and the way she responds to his touch and effort to make her scream. His fingers slide around your entrance for a moment and then he buries two down to the knuckle and curls up inside you.

You cry out as his thick fingers curl inside of you. Making you moan his name loud enough for the entire village to hear as you buck your hips into his face. His free hand slides up to squeeze your breast and your hand covers his, eyes squeezed shut as he laps at your clit.

Groaning into your cunt, he samples you. Tastes you like you are the finest whiskey or his precious Spanish wines. Pumping his fingers inside you to find the spot that makes your body spasm in pleasure and growling when he finds it

"Fuck. Oh shit!" You hiss, walls fluttering around his digits as he curls them to find that spot that makes you moan. Your chest heaving as you tangle your fingers in his hair, pushing him further into your cunt. "So- yes. There. Cl-close." You pant, stomach clenching.

He growls, sucking your clit in his mouth and pulling on it harshly, before he twirls his tongue around it and starts to flick his tongue over the little bundle of nerves. Pumping his fingers into you faster and harder, wanting to see how hard you break.

You fall apart within seconds. “Oh my fuck - fuck!” You squeal as you clamp down on his fingers, soaking them as you cum for the first time in a long time. Nearly pulling his hair out as you cry out.

He snarls, lapping at you faster and pushing his fingers deeper when you start to cum. Feeling you soak his face as his cock throbs against the blanket on the floor. Working and pushing you through your orgasm with the determination of a man possessed.

He pushes you higher until you have to push his head away, overstimulated, and you feel like your body is on fire from his attentions. “Fuck, I- Pero. I need you.” You beg, “let me - I need you inside of me.”

He grunts, smirking as he crawls up your body. Aching to push inside you and feel those tight walls squeezing his cock like they had his fingers.

You grab the back of his neck when he’s hovering over you to drag him down to kiss him. Your tongue slides against his to taste yourself on his mouth. You reach down to grip his cock again, pumping him as you kiss him.

Pero groans your name into your mouth, almost like a plea. Rocking his hips into your hand and lowering down so you can guide him in. When you notch him at your entrance, he bites your bottom lip as he drills his cock deep into your wet cunt.

You moan into each other’s mouth as he pushes deep in one thrust, making you cling to him as he stretches you out. He’s thick and you are certain you’ll feel him tomorrow if he’s as rough as he claims to be. You wrap your legs around him, the blankets crumpling up beneath you as he starts to move.

Pero doesn’t hesitate. Bracing his hands on the floor beside you, he starts pounding into you at a rough, hard pace. Feeling your walls giving with every deep thrust as he drives himself into you over and over, groaning over how well you are taking him. “Mierda.”

He’s rough and takes what he wants but fuck, you love it. You whine, throwing your head back and he wastes no time leaning in to bite down on the skin above your pulse. Your walls clench around him every time he pushes deep and hits something devastating inside you that no one else has found. “Pero. Shit. Oh God. I- it’s so good.” You almost vibrate as you speak, shaken by his thrusts.

Hissing, he tries to hang onto his control. Feeling it slip as he continues to rock into you. You're so fucking good and it has been the best sex he's had in ....ever. Not even his ex felt like you do. Dropping down to his elbows, he shoves his hands under your back and starts biting along your shoulder, leaving imprints of his teeth with every piercing thrust of his cock.

Each bite on your skin has you clenching around him and you struggle to maintain control until you give in. Whines escape your lips as his pelvis drops into just the right position that he’s grinding against your clit and your heels dig into his ass. “I’m gonna - oh fuck. Pero. Pero!” You cry out, clamping down on his cock and practically shaking beneath him as you soak him with your orgasm.

The shout Pero lets out is hoarse and rough, pushing deep and grinding even deeper for a split second before he is ripping free of your cunt. Panting as he realized he had not spoken with you about birth control and he could not risk filling you up. Coating your belly, breasts and thighs with ropes of his hot seed as he spits out another curse.

You pant, watching him as he pumps his cock to paint you with every drop of seed that drips from his body. His chest heaving and you stare up at him in awe. He’s incredible and you know that all your previous fighting means nothing compared to this perfect moment of bliss. “You- you could’ve cum inside me. I’m on birth control.” You tell him breathlessly, knowing it’s too late now.

“Shit.” Pero hisses, huffing slightly and dropping his head against your shoulder. “I didn’t- we hadn’t- fuck.” He grumbles, rolling off to the side and onto his back to reach off his undershirt to wipe your skin clean.

You watch him clean you up and you turn onto your side to look at him, “it’s okay. Maybe next time you could…?” You trail off, biting your lip as you wait for his reaction. Unsure if there will be a next time.

Pero smirks and nods. “Next time.” He agrees, tossing the shirt off to the side and rubs a hand down your side. “How are you feeling?”

You hum, closing your eyes with a smile on your face. “Better. A lot better. I’m warm and satisfied and - thank you again for rescuing me.” You say as you open one eye to look at him, “you’re not too bad for a grumpy asshole.” You smirk, closing your eyes again.

He snorts, rolling his eyes and sighing, “you’re not bad.” He admits. “For an American.” He adds, smirking himself as he moves his arm and nudges you slightly, seeing if you want to curl against him.

You take the hint, shifting to curl into his side and he quickly pulls the blanket over you. You sigh, breathing him in and kiss his chest, exhausted again after his rigorous fucking. You’ve turned a corner with the Spaniard and you’re interested to see how things go from now on. 

**** 

The sunlight starts to shine through the windows of the cottage, the gap in the curtains letting in light that makes you wince as you wake up. “Pero.” You murmur, shifting to sit up and you pat the space beside you only to find the man you fell asleep with is gone. You frown, calling his name again and when there’s no response, you huff. Deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt, you stand on shaky legs and head upstairs to get ready for the day. Perhaps he had an early start.

“You slipped out of the house like a thief?” William shakes his head and frowns at his friend. “Why would you do that? She deserves better.” 

Pero huffs and rolls his eyes, shuffling guiltily as he looks up the road towards your cottage. “She’ll be going back to America.” He reminds the Irishman. “I don’t need to be getting myself involved in that mess.” 

William snorts, eyeing Pero suspiciously. “I’ve never known you to turn down pleasure. A fling of some kind. Unless you like her more than you are admitting.” Pero scowls again and shuffles, not answering.

It’s been a couple of days since you’ve seen him, which is an accomplishment in the tiny village. You are in the grocery store when old man Sawyer tells you about the village fete. “It’s the harvest festival. In the church hall. There’ll be food and booze of course.” He winks and you chuckle, wondering if Pero would be there. It’s unlikely as he doesn’t like people. “Maybe I’ll see you there.” You tell the older man as you pay for your groceries. “See you there.” He says with a chuckle and you take your bags, pondering if you’ll go to the fete. 

You decide later that you won’t hide away so you get dressed and make your way over to the church hall, shrugging off your coat once you’re inside and there’s music from the local band of teenagers and various tables with food and drinks. You immediately feel eager to mingle. That is until you look around to see Pero standing there with William, his dark eyes focused on you.

“Go talk to her.” William shoves at Pero’s arm, making him stumble. 

Turning, he glares at his best friend. “Amigo….” He growls, warning him not to mess with him tonight. He’s been busy trying to avoid you and here you are, looking prettier than ever. 

“If you don’t, someone else will.” William warns him.

You avert your eyes, pissed off he didn’t even come to see you after he slept with you. You walk over to the drinks table, greeting Gladys who lives down the road from you and she hands you a cup of hot cider. “How are you dearie?” She asks and you sigh, “confused.” You confess and she frowns, “what?” You shake your head, “I’m good, Gladys.” You tell her and she smiles at you, nodding until her gaze shifts to behind you. You turn your head to look and your eyes meet Pero’s. “Hi.” You murmur, fingers flexing around the cup.

Pero looks at you for a moment, studying the anger in your eyes and he feels guilty, guilty for avoiding you. “You’re still here.” That’s what he comes up with to answer you. Hating it the moment it comes out of his mouth, but he won’t take it back.

You stare at him for a second, “I’m still here.” You observe, glancing around the room until your eyes meet his again. “So…you've been busy?” You ask, a little sarcastic but you’ve never been known to be timid, especially when it comes to men who run away from your bed.

“Busy enough.” He grunts, not sure why he even came over. You don’t seem happy to see him at all, not that he can blame you. It’s not like he’s gone out of his way to check in after the other day. He had convinced himself that you still hated him, and had run with it.

You nod, "busy enough to not even stay for a cup of coffee?" You ask, raising your eyebrows at him, "or was it just pity? You felt sorry that I nearly froze to death and you decided to fuck me...or was it so you could brag to William? Tell him you tamed the bitch in Fairy Lodge?" You snort, keeping your eyes on his, refusing to look away.

Eyes widening, he glances over at Gladys to see if she is listening. Shame making his face burn, and in turn, pissing him off. “Nothing could tame you.” He snorts. “I’m not a magician.”

You chuckle, “clearly you are since you made yourself disappear.” You huff, taking a sip of the cider. “If you regretted it, you could’ve just come to see me and tell me that instead of leaving me to think I did something wrong or…or I wasn’t good enough.” You finish quietly.

The sound of your voice is what makes his anger deflate. “I- you’re leaving.” He murmurs quietly. “I - I’m not a casual lover. I don’t sleep around anymore.”

“I’m not gonna stick around and be treated like shit.” You snort, “I could go back to America and deal with American men if I wanted that.” You tell him, setting down the cup of cider just as the band starts to play.

Pero narrows his eyes, hating that you are comparing him to American men. He’s not a boy who plays games, but apparently that’s what he’s been doing with you. “Fine.” He grunts, grabbing your hand. “Let’s dance.”

You let him drag you onto the makeshift dance floor and there's a few elderly couples dancing but everyone has their eyes on you and Pero. "Everyone is looking at us." You murmur and he stares at you, not looking around. 

"Let them." He says, pulling you closer and you don't push him away. 

"You don't care?" You ask, keeping your eyes on him.

“Why would I?” He asks. “People stare because of my scar. They stare because I’m a mean looking bastard.” He shrugs, used to the looks. “Or they stare because I’m holding the prettiest girl here.”

You offer him a soft smile as he looks at you and you reach up to wrap your arms around his neck. "Your scar makes you look dangerous...and sexy. And you look grumpy...not mean. And you think you are not good enough but you are...and I- I wish you would let people in to see that." You finish, cutting your gaze across the room to see Gladys smiling at you and Pero dancing.

“I'm not the man you think I am.” Pero grumbles. “I have done a lot of shitty things, even to you.” He reminds you. He doesn’t want you to think he’s some white knight when he’s not.

You look at him again, “no one is perfect. Hell, you know I’m not. I know you’re not. But…but I think you are good deep down. You’re just hurt.” You murmur, “and I know why but I didn’t - we started off on the wrong foot. We were both mean to the other.”

“We should not fight.�� Pero agrees, nodding. Even if he doesn’t feel like you know him enough to make that judgment, it’s nice to have someone besides William believe in him.

“I- I’m supposed to go back to America on Monday.” You tell him quietly, wondering if he will pack your bags for you to get you out of Ireland and away from him, from his mistake of rescuing you…sleeping with you.

“Oh.” Pero frowns and swallows harshly. Knowing that he’s wasted time that he could have been spending with you and quite possibly made this better than it had been. “Big plans back there?” He asks.

“Just work and…and I don’t have to go back. I can change my return flight…or cancel it…” You trail off, “unless you don’t want an American living here full time?” You test him, wondering what his reaction will be.

“You still don’t know how to make a fire worth a damn.” Pero tells you, watching your brows pull together in confusion. “It would be hard for you to learn over there. Bet you don’t even have a fireplace.”

You shake your head as he rocks you both to the beat. “I don’t. I wouldn’t be able to make a fire…I’d definitely forget. So…I think I need to stay to make sure I learn properly. Perhaps you could teach me?” You ask him quietly, preparing yourself for him to practically escort you back to the airport.

“It’ll take a long time.” He cautions, pulling you closer to him. “I’d probably need to check on the fires during the night. Make sure you don’t burn down your granny’s cottage.”

“What a gentleman.” You smile, tilting your head towards his, “I definitely think you’d need to check on them nightly. I don’t think anyone in the village wants a fire. So…it looks like I’m staying - for fire starting purposes only.” You tease, taking a chance to kiss his neck as you lean closer.

Pero groans at the light contact of your lips, turning his head and capturing your mouth in a kiss for everyone here to see. Not caring if they do and telling them all that he wants you. Claiming you in front of them so that there are no misconceptions about what he wants. You.

You cup his cheek, responding to the kiss, and you let everyone see that you are with him. The parishioners all stare and you smile against his mouth. “Come home with me.” You murmur when he pulls back but keeps his forehead against yours.

“Are you sure, hermosa?” He asks quietly, knowing that he had hurt you the last time he had slept with you.

You nod, “I’m sure. I want you to come home with me and show me how to start a fire.” You murmur, stopping as the song comes to an end and you let go of Pero to clap your hands, waiting for his answer.

Pero smirks, willing to take a risk with you when you are also taking a risk on him. Nodding, he motions towards your cottage. “Let’s go, I need to show you a lot of things if you’re going to live in Ireland.” He grunts. “Starting with how to properly leave a party.” It’s all the warning he gives you before he bends down, scooping you over his shoulder before marching off the dance floor with you like a medieval mercenary carrying off his kidnapped bride.

You squeal, giggling as he carries you out of the hall and you cling to him as he strides down the hall. “Where are we going?” You ask as you tilt your head and notice he’s not carrying you to your cottage. “My place.” He says and you are surprised but let him continue his journey, the wind whipping cool on your skin.

You've never been to his cottage, he's well aware of that. Marching down the road and not slowing down a bit. "Best place to start teaching you is where I am comfortable." He admits, slapping your ass. "Kept expecting your granny to come out and catch me with my ass showing."

You chuckle as he sets you down so he can unlock his door. You lean against the wall as he fumbles with his keys, “she definitely would’ve told you to put some pants on.” You tease and he finally opens the door, “and what’s my next lesson?” You inquire as he guides you inside and you see the masculine but cozy cottage he lives in.

He hadn't really thought much beyond taking you home. Getting you here. He hums, his own fire slowly smoldering and the inside of the cottage warm. "Temperature control." He decides. "What to do when it's too hot."

You smirk, licking your lips as you look at him, “and what do you do when it’s too hot.” He smirks back at you, “get naked.” You nod, slipping off your shoes and you work on the buttons of your dress. “I think that’s a smart idea.”

"It is." He grunts, taking off his jacket and then lifting his shirt over his head. "Getting too hot is just as bad as being too cold." He rolls his eyes towards you. "And you know how that feels."

You glare at him playfully and you shrug your dress off, letting it fall to the floor and you move to push your tights down but Pero scoops you into his arms. “I’m still hot.” You tell him, your arms wrapping around his neck.

"Yes, you are." He won't deny that, arms coming around you and sliding down your sides to your hips. "Your panties and bra are what's keeping you hot." He murmurs.

You giggle, “yes. They are.” You let him reach behind you to unclasp your bra as you caress his chest and you lean in to kiss his clavicle as he slides the bra down your arms. You squeal when he grabs your ass, lifting you over to his sofa and he lays you down on it. “Fuck. These need to go.” He growls, pushing your legs apart so he can grab the thin material of your pantyhose and he rips them, making you gasp and wet your panties in arousal.

"Oops." Pero snorts, not even slightly sorry about ripping your pantyhose. He never understands why women wear them, although he can understand under your dress since you are unused to the chill of the Irish weather. He grins and pulls them off your feed and tosses them aside. "Need to teach you to quit wearing that shit." He grunts. "Harder to get to you."

You giggle as he drags your panties down your legs and you spread your legs further apart once he tosses them over his shoulder to expose you to his hungry eyes. “Need to see you too.” You tell him, reaching down to unbuckle his belt.

"Yeah?" He lets you undo his belt, feeling like you want him and it's a thing to savor. It might be a fling, but the look in your eyes is telling him that he should trust that it will be more. "Taken with me?"

You scoff, “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t, Tovar.” You tell him, working on unbuttoning his pants after you toss the belt aside. You reach into his pants to pull his hard cock out, groaning as you get to see him properly. “I want to suck you off.” You tell him, meeting those dark eyes.

"You don't have to do that." Every blow job he's had in the last few years has been begrudgingly given. Complaints about sore jaws or him always wanting head. He had stopped asking for them, stopped her from giving them if she tried to initiate and it's almost like a reflex. Nothing that can be held over his head, until he takes your wrist and realizes what he's doing. "Uh...my ex..." he bites his lips. "She would always complain about it. Or use it to guilt me into something."

You scoff, “she sounds…wow. Lay down.” You order, pushing on his chest and he nods, shifting to lay down on the sofa and you straddle him. “Too Goddamn sexy for your own good. Definitely for my good.” You chuckle, leaning down to kiss him. You slide your tongue against his until you are kissing along his jaw, down his neck, and down his stomach until you reach his cock resting against his stomach. “I want to give you a blowjob. I want to make you feel good. For nothing in return.” You promise and take him into your hand, squeezing him as you look into his eyes as you press your tongue against the slit, tasting his pre-cum.

"Shit." Pero hisses, eyes fluttering closed for a moment before he opens them again. Needing to see you touch him. To see how eagerly you want to touch him. It's not all Americans that are horrible, it was his ex. She was a bad apple. He reaches down and cups your cheek. "Fuck baby," he pants, "So fucking pretty and sweet."

You hum around him as you take him deeper. Loving the way he groans and reaches down to caress your cheek. You love the way his jaw clenches and his cock twitches inside of you as you widen your jaw to take more of his length until he’s hitting the back of your throat and you gag, unused to giving head to a long cock like his.

"Pull off, hermosa." He urges, pulling your cheek up but you shake your head and continue to bob up and down on him. Making him groan as he feels the exquisite bliss of your mouth around him.

You want to make him feel good, look after him like he did looking after you when you nearly froze to death. You moan around him, caressing his chest and you bob your head a little faster.

"Hermosa...." he groans, feeling you starting to pull his orgasm out of him and he doesn't want to cum yet. He wants to make sure that you cum first. "Ride me." He begs quietly, twitching in your throat at the thought.

You won’t deny him. You pull off of his cock, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, and you straddle him. His cock pressing between your folds and you are soaking wet. You look down at him and his hands immediately find your tits. You lift up to position him at your entrance and you slowly sink down onto his cock.

"Mierda." He hisses, rocking his hips up to thrust up into you. Bouncing you slightly and sinking deeper into your tight cunt. "You are so pretty sitting on my cock."

“Not bad for an American?” You tease, starting to rock your hips on top of him. Your heart pounds in your chest as you look down at him and you know you couldn’t leave. Not with this unspoken thing between you. It’s not quite love but it feels like it could easily evolve into it. You lean down to kiss him, bracing your hands on the arm of the sofa behind his head.

He doesn't answer because he wouldn't even know how to answer. It's not because you are an American, but because you are just you. His hands slide up your sides and he holds the back of your head, deepening the kiss as you start to slide your tongue against his.

You rock back onto his cock, your tongue sliding against his and your hands tangle in his hair, moaning into his mouth as you find an angle that makes the head of his cock rub against your g-spot.

“Shiiiiiiiit.” His moan is muffled and he throbs inside you. Loving how you clench down around him and he squeezes your hip with his free hand.

You moan into his mouth, rocking back onto him and he slips out of you. You whine at the loss of pleasure but he reaches down to push himself back into you and you swivel your hips to find the same angle. You soon find it and rock back onto him, getting closer and closer to cumming.

“That’s it, hermosa.” He grunts out, leaning in to bite your shoulder. He lets go of your head, reaching down to start rubbing your clit. Wanting you to cum for him before he spills inside of you,

You whine when his fingers rub your clit just right and you are close. Grinding back onto his cock, trapping his hand between you, you get closer and closer until you cry out his name. “Fuck!” You choke, clamping down on his cock as you soak him with your orgasm.

"Perfecto." He groans, rocking his hips up and driving his cock deeper into you as he takes over. Letting you collapse against his chest as he wraps both arms around you and fucks you through, chasing his own orgasm. Panting out your name as he thrusts one last time, burying his cock deep as he paints your walls with his cum.

You whimper, kissing his jaw as he pants into your ear. “Cum for me, Pero. Cum. Wan- wanna feel it.” You beg, grinding back to try and egg him on as his cock twitches inside of you.

You moan, loving how it feels to have him paint your walls with his hot seed, silently thanking your IUD as he pulses deep. You kiss along his jaw, “feels so good.” You pant, relaxing on top of him.

"Stay." He murmurs, panting as he tries to catch his breath. "I want you to stay, hermosa." He presses his lips to yours again. "I want to be grumpy to everyone else. Not you."

You nod, pressing your lips to his again. “I’ll stay. All you had to do was ask. I’ll stay and I want to see where this goes.” You tell him, kissing his chin. “You’re a grumpy bastard but you’re my grumpy bastard.” You tease, caressing his cheek. You never imagined you’d come to Ireland and find the man you spend the rest of your life with but you have and you don’t know it yet but you have a beautiful life ahead of you with Pero in Fairy Lodge.

​​

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#pedro pascal #pero tovar #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar smut #pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar imagine #pero tovar fic #modern pero tovar #modern au

[flightlessangelwings]

Ktober 2023 Day 1- Overstimulation

Pero Tovar x fem!reader

Word count- 1.3k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), f receiving oral, established relationship, reader wears a corset and is a waitress, no use of y/n

Notes- Starting the month off with an idea I've had in my drafts for some time so it's the perfect opportunity to use it! Prompt list made by me! Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is myupdate blog so please follow that too and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on my new fics!

~

The tavern bustled with life and laughter, and you hurriedly ran drinks to the many tables. Men eyed you up and down as your tightly fit corset accented your body perfectly, but you paid them no mind. You just filtered back enough to get them to leave you a little something extra in the way of coin when they left. No, there was only one man you wanted to share your bed with.

And he just walked through the front door.

“Señor Tovar,” you purred as you sauntered up to him, “What will it be tonight?”

He smirked as he rested a hand on your hip, “You, querida,” his tone was low as he eyed the other men who had jealousy clear on their faces.

“This way,” you set down your drinks and slid your hand in his, leading him upstairs…

“Ay… Fuck… Pero…” you moaned as the mercenary laid comfortable between your parted legs. In private, you were on a first name basis, among other things.

It took Pero no time at all to strip you of your garments, and he quickly became an expert at unlacing your corset. It was something he was particularly proud of. Pero growled as you laid bare for him, spread out on the bed with your legs parted, just the way he liked it, and he wasted no time in diving in.

There were few things Pero enjoyed more than eating you out. He spent hours between your legs, licking and sucking you until you cried for mercy and begged him to stop. The taste of you was the sweetest nectar he had ever had, and from the first moment his tongue touched your pussy, Pero was addicted.

“You taste so good, querida,” he purred in that tone he saved only for you.

Heat quickly built up in your body as your mind swam in pleasure. You arched your back and moaned loudly as Pero’s tongue flicked and licked at your clit, knowing exactly what spots drove you absolutely wild. His large hands dug into the flesh of your thighs as he kept them parted to allow him better access to your body.

“Fuck!” you cried out as you buried your hands in his hair, “Pero… I’m gonna…”

He groaned into you as you yanked at his thick locks, but he never let up. Pero ran his tongue along your clit over and over again, nodding his head as he pushed you over the edge. His cock twitched as he listened to the screams of your climax- music to his ears. He savored the way your legs shook on either side of his head and you couldn’t hold back your moans even if you wanted to.

Just as you let out a whimper, Pero pulled away with a loud pop and looked at you with dark, lust-blown eyes. He hissed a curse in Spanish as he watched your breasts rise and fall with your heavy breaths as you came down from your peak.

“Que hermosa,” Pero groaned as he waited for you to open your eyes.

When you did, you saw him staring down at you with a look you had never seen before. Sure you saw the lustful gaze in his eyes, but underneath, there was something else… something more. It was subtle, but you had known him long enough to notice slight shifts like that.

But, before you could address, Pero growled and dove back into you, licking at your pussy with renewed fervor. Your head dropped back down to the bed as you screamed even more loudly as he devoured you like a man starved. 

Pero used his strong grip to push your legs apart even further, too consumed with need to care about anything other than the taste of you. He felt your legs tremble under his grasp as your second orgasm hit quickly and just as strongly as the first one. 

This time, however, Pero did not break away.

He kept going, licking and sucking you as if you were his last meal on earth. He savored your cries, your moans, your whimpers, your screams as you soon came again under his expert tongue. Pero’s cock practically screamed him to fuck you, in need of his own release, but he ignored it. He was completely lost in you, in your pussy, to even think about himself.

It was the first time that had happened to him.

Pero continued his attack on your pussy as he moved one hand to push two thick fingers into you. You bucked your hips and screamed as you felt the calloused digits enter you, hitting your sweet spot inside with accuracy. 

“Pero! Ah!” you cried out as you clutched into his scalp for dear life.

He groaned your name in between kissing your pussy as he thrust his fingers in and out of you at a fast and harsh pace. The long fingers hit deep inside you, making you see stars as your eyes rolled back and tears fell down your cheeks. It only took a few more thrusts for you to cum again with another loud scream.

Your body trembled uncontrollably as you came down from your peak, Pero slowing down for a moment to allow you time to catch your breath, “Pero…” you breathed as you sniffled, “I can’t…”

Pero hushed you with surprising gentleness, “Yes you can, querida,” he purred as he slowly thrust his fingers once more, “I am not finished with you yet.”

“Please…” you begged as fresh tears filled your eyes.

Pero whispered your name as he stopped all his movements. He wanted for you to meet his eyes before he spoke again, “I think you can give me one more, querida,” he paused, “Can you?”

You swallowed hard as you caught your breath. Your body felt like it was on fire, and your emotions spiraled in your head from the many consecutive climaxes. But the way Pero looked at you gave you newfound strength. You trust him, after all, and you knew that if you truly had enough, all you had to do was say so and he would stop.

You nodded.

Pero smirked, “That’s my good girl,” he cooed before he dipped back into your pussy.

Instead of a harsh and rough pace, however, Pero was slower, gentler, as if he was making love to you with his tongue. You moaned loudly, your body already trembling under the pressure of his tongue. Tears spilled down your face once more, but they were also different this time. It was overwhelming in the best way, and suddenly you craved more just as he did.

It didn’t take long for your last orgasm to build within you. “Pero…” you sighed as you arched your back, parting your legs as much as you could, offering yourself to him completely. 

“That’s it querida,” he praised in between licks and sucks as you fell apart under him once more. Pero savored the taste of you as you gushed into his mouth and squeezed his fingers with your inner muscles. At the same time, you cried out his name and clung to him wherever you could grab. He liked it when you clung to him like that.

When your climax was completely ridden out, Pero finally broke away from you and trailed a line of open mouthed kissed up your body until he took your mouth with his. He swallowed the moan you let out and he wiped away any stray tears as his tongue tangled with yours.

“Thank you for the meal, querida,” Pero smirked as he crashed down onto the bed and pulled you into his arms.

You let out an exhausted laugh, but then you paused, “What about you?” you asked.

“Hush, querida,” he murmured, “You need your rest first.”

A smile lit up your face, though Pero couldn’t see it from the way he held you; underneath all the tough and gruff exterior, you knew that Pero Tovar had some kindness in him. But, what you didn’t know was just how much fondness he held for you. Perhaps someday he would tell you out loud. Until then, Pero’s actions spoke loudly enough, and that was just fine for both of you.

#fawktober2023 #kinktober #kinotber 2023 #pero tovar #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x y/n #pero tovar imagine #pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar fic #pero tovar fanfic #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal cinematic universe #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #tovar x reader #tovar x you #the great wall fanfiction #the great wall fic #the great wall fanfic

[brewsterispunkk]

marriage of convenience: part 5

pairing: pero tovar x f!reader

WC: 10.1k (longest part yet!)

summary: reader’s relationship w/tovar develops. she and lisbeth dare an adventure.

a/n: thank you to everyone who has stuck with this. it has been months (!!) since I updated this story so if you’re still here—thank you. i hope u enjoy this extra long update :)

series masterlist

PART FIVE

“My love,” your mother called as you made your way to the door, rushing. Tovar was already annoyed at how late you were running, waiting outside, and you didn’t want to keep him waiting for long. He was already unpleasant enough.

“Yes?” You threw over your shoulder, already halfway out the door. 

“Will you see Lisbeth today?”

“I expect so.”

“Give these to her for me,” she handed you a bundle wrapped in linen–herbs, of course. Your mother was practically an apothecary at this point. “They’re for her mother’s headaches. And when you stop by Olga’s today, see if she has any of the lemon-honey concoction she uses during the cold months.”

You puzzled. It was late May–your family would not be in need of such a thing until mid-autumn at the latest. 

“Why? Will she even have some? It is early summer.”

“I expect she will,” Your mother walks in from the kitchen. “She always has some reserves for the occasional late spring cold. It is for your father. His breathing has gotten worse.”

Your stomach turns to stone, but you force yourself to nod as you take your basket and leave through the rickety front door.

Of course. Of course it was for your father. You silently said a prayer to whatever god was listening for his recovery, like you always did whenever he took a turn for the worse. 

He had always had issues with his health, ever since he came back from the war when you were twelve. 

It began with a leg injury that never really recovered–he’d taken an arrow to the shoulder and fallen off his horse, breaking his leg in the process. If your mother had been there, he would have healed almost completely and even been able to walk again, but the encampment he had been in had no one with healing knowledge. The wound had festered, according to your mother, and your father was lucky to be alive. He hadn’t walked fully since. 

The injury had caused your father to have to sell his blacksmith’s shop in town–the one Tovar apprenticed at now. 

His health had been slowly declining ever since. Last winter, he suffered a chill and a bout of a coughing illness that took his ability to breath unencumbered, the winter before that, he’d suffered fainting spells and lost feeling in his injured leg. Until recently, he’d been able to hobble down the stairs with the help of your mother, but in the past weeks, he has been too weak to even make it downstairs for supper. You feared the worst, as you always did. 

Graciela and James, your two siblings with enough sense to know something was wrong, were more hopeful than you. 

“He will recover soon. He always does.”

Grace had told you the night before, over mending by the fire. Your mother was so weary these days that the two of you had to do much of the household chores. “Womens’ work,’ Petyr called it. You dreaded it and found it odious, but it was your duty. You would not let it fall to your mother, who had enough on her plate keeping the family afloat.

You wished you could believe your sister, but you were always the more cynical one. 

You’d spent the better part of your life waiting for the next hammer to fall; waiting for the day when your father didn’t recover and the family was left in the care of the next male relative in line. Petyr. The very thought made your blood turn cold. 

If Petyr treated you the way he did now, when your father was alive and coherent, you had no desire to discover what horrors would await you when your father departed from this world. 

There had been a time when you dreamed of marriage; yearned for it, even. There had been years when you and Lisbeth, on May Day, had gathered ten different kinds of wildflowers and put them under your pillow to dream of your true love, a practice your mother swore led her parents to find each other. 

But as you grew older, more well-versed in the ways of the world, it dawned on you that real life was rarely like the tales that bards sang of. At least, for people like you. You also knew that if you ever dreamed of escaping your village, of seeing all the world had to offer, marriage would end all aspirations of that. 

You squared your shoulders as you stepped out into the fresh morning air in front of your family’s small home, urging all thoughts of your father’s illness to the back of your head. 

“Took you long enough,” Tovar grunted from where he leaned on the small wooden fence meant to keep the family goat in. “We will be late. The blacksmith will not like it.”

You rolled your eyes, opening the gate and walking past him onto the small road that led through the forest and into town. 

“Then remind him who it is you live with. He will have no qualms.” 

It was one of the things you hated most about him; his tendency to take everything so seriously. 

“Just because your father trained him does not mean he will extend me grace,” Tovar grumbled from behind you. You could hear the buckles bump against the metal of his armor. 

That was something that puzzled you; you didn’t know why he still wore it—he wasn’t at war, and nothing so exciting as a sword fight ever happened in your village. 

“And why not?” You asked, entering the treeline. The trees cast shadows on the dirt road in the early morning light. “He would do so with William or any one of my brothers if they expressed interest in the family trade.”

Tovar huffed in annoyance from behind you and your lips curled into a smirk. It had become one of your pastimes in the weeks that he’d been escorting you to and from the market. You liked to see how annoyed he could get. 

“I am not like your brothers,” he said. “Or William for that matter.”

You chuckled—that much was obvious. Your brothers and your cousin were much more open, more kind than Tovar, who barely expressed any emotion besides annoyance and occasional anger. 

“That I know,” you threw back at him. “No one would ever accuse you of being as sunny as them.”

“That is not what I meant.”

You puzzled and turned behind you, realizing what he was implying. 

“You think it is because you are foreign?” You asked in disbelief. “From another kingdom?”

Tovar kept walking, face impassive, not betraying any emotion but annoyance. 

“It is the same in this part of the world as it is in others,” he says like it’s nothing. “They need but look at me for a moment to tell that I am unlike them.”

You rolled your eyes. So dramatic. 

“This village is used to foreigners,” you said matter-of-factly. “We see strange people from strange places every day. People trade everything from silk from the far east to salt from the continent to the south. You aren’t so special.”

Tovar just leveled you with a dry look, and you took it as a sign to keep talking. 

“Your scowl and that armor don’t help,” you added with a smirk, swinging your basket back and forth beside you as you walked. 

“What is wrong with my armor?” Tovar sounded puzzled. You stifled a laugh.

“Really?” You turned your head to stare at him, but found his brows furrowed in genuine confusion. You sighed. “You walk into the village everyday in full armor. Like you expect someone to put a dagger in your side at any moment. You do not smile, do not try to speak with anyone unless it is for trade. You should not be surprised people are wary of you.”

“I wear my armor everywhere except when I sleep. It is—”

“A habit, I’m sure,” you finished for him. “But still, this is a peaceful village. The most violence we see is from a brawl at the tavern or a rowdy group of traders on leave. Wearing full battle armor sends the message that you don’t trust us. And that makes people nervous.”

It was true—there hadn’t been even a skirmish on your lands in years. Not since the war, when the old Lord died and power passed to his son. Since then, your land had known peace. 

Tovar huffed what you almost thought was a laugh, but when you looked back at him, his mouth was downturned and his eyes were narrow. 

“I don’t trust you.”  

At that, you laughed, a deep thing from deep in your stomach. If someone told you Tovar slept with a knife beneath his head, you’d believe them. You weren’t even sure he trusted William.

“That I believe,” you shook your head and continued down the dirt road to town, leaving a grumbling Tovar trudging behind you. 

—-

In the recent weeks, you and Tovar had begun to form a kind of begrudging companionship.

You still didn’t like him–not in the least. He was uncouth and rude. He never exchanged pleasantries with anyone at the market and you were sure you’d never seen him smile. Not even once. And the two of you often bickered. So much so that your mother had taken to seating you on opposite sides of the table at dinner to avoid as much conflict as possible. 

Hence, the begrudging part. The companionship merely meant that you had begun to be able to tolerate his presence. Barely. 

Your brother hadn’t reared his ugly head in the recent weeks either, being either too drunk or preoccupied with other things to notice you. That was a blessing in and of itself. You still hadn’t really gotten over the embarrassment that had come over you at Tovar seeing your bruises. You knew it was what caused him to volunteer to escort you to town daily and still, you hadn’t addressed it with him. 

Still, as May slogged into June, you were stuck with him. Unless you wanted your drunk, unpredictable, brute of a brother to accompany you to the townsquare every other morning, you had to learn to endure the company of the quiet Spaniard. 

And endure you did.

You’d learned not to ask questions; whenever you did, you were either met with silence, or a stilted, annoyed response. In fact, the conversation you’d shared this morning was the longest conversation you’d had with him.

That was just one thing that set Tovar apart from your cousin, William. Both men had seen so much of the world, lived so many different lives, and while William spoke of his time abroad with bright eyed and excited words, Tovar’s past hung over him like a heavy cloud. You didn’t know what the grizzled mercenary had experienced during his time traveling, but whatever it was, he didn’t want to talk about it. 

Which was difficult for you—you could listen to William talk for hours about his time on the road. But, you’d heard all of William’s stories. Tovar kept whatever tales of his travels closer to his chest than his armor. And you resented him for it. 

You resented that with all the freedom in the world, with a lifetime of stories and lived experiences under his belt, with the blessing of being born as a man in this world, he had the nerve to act the way he did: angry at the world, scowling at every kind face. 

The absence of that—of freedom—pulsed and throbbed deep in your chest. And all you could feel was anger.

The sights and smells of the town’s center flooded your senses when you reached the market. You took a deep breath and tried to savor it: the aroma of spices from far-off places, the sharp smell of lemons from Arabia, the colorful hues of silk and fabric, the bustle of business and trade. It was as much of the wide world you were afforded, so you took it in with wide eyes and a smile. 

You looked down to your basket, mentally going over the deliveries and trades you had to make before meeting with Lisbeth by the bakery. You were fingering a sprig of stray lavender when Tovar nudged your shoulder, breaking your train of thought. You turned and glared at him. 

“I will leave you here,” he mumbled, looking around you and scanning the faces of the people bustling by. “You will meet me at the blacksmith’s when you are finished.”

“I will, will I?” You asked, feeling your temper flare. You hated when he gave you orders–like you were an animal and not a person. 

Tovar leveled you with a dry look, before rolling his eyes himself. 

“Do not be late,” he said, before adjusting his satchel and walking away. 

You glared at his back as he went, cursing the broad expanse of his shoulders. Not only was he an ass, but he was a handsome ass. That was even worse.

With a sigh, you set about making your first delivery, already planning on being late to meet Tovar later in the day.

- - 

By the time you’d completed your second delivery, the sun was high in the sky and strong. You could feel the back of your neck glisten and knew that when you looked in the mirror at the end of the day, there would be freckles dusted across your cheeks. 

You’d already delivered one order of tea to the miller’s wife, who promised you a satchel of grain in return by week’s end, and traded the town seamstress for some new thread. Your stomach buzzed with excitement at the news you’d heard as you left the seamstress’s parlor. 

It had been a normal business dealing: the seamstress, an elderly woman who had been a friend of your grandmother, had long been a customer of your mother’s. You knew her well. Your mother had sent you to get new thread for mending, but you always stayed for a cup of tea whenever the seamstress, Agnetha, whenever you traded with her.

“You look more like your grandmother every time I see you,” she said, sitting down gingerly on a stool behind the wooden counter at the front of the shop. 

You smiled at her. You’d never met your paternal grandmother, but you had always been told that you resembled her—the same facial structure, the same hair, the same stubborn spirit. It warmed you to hear it from someone who knew her so well. 

“Thank you,” you said, finishing the cup of herbal tea and setting it down. “And thank you for the thread. My mother sends her regards. She apologizes that she can’t be here to see you in person.”

“Oh, pay it no mind dear,” Agnetha’s gnarled hand pats yours. “With a household to run and that business with your father, god only knows how she can manage it all.”

You clench your teeth at the mention of your father. That was what it was like living in a village of this size: no one’s business was private. 

“I was sorry to hear about your father, dear,” Agnetha continued. “Do let me know if I can do anything to help.”

“Thank you,” your lips spread into a tight-lipped smile. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate the sentiment–you did—it was just that you had grown tired of hearing the same sentiments from everyone. It was suffocating, having everyone know the trials of your family. 

“I must take my leave, I’m afraid,” you said after a beat. “I must make haste if I am to finish all my business by day’s end.”

“Of course,” Agnetha waved you off, but then held one finger up, turning back to the back room of her shop. “But give me one moment! I had forgotten—I have something for you.”

You puzzled but obeyed, your interest piqued. What could she possibly have for you?

After a moment, the white-haired woman reappeared with a bushel of flowers with small, white petals: yarrow. She held them out to you. 

You furrowed your eyebrows. 

“What is–”

“For tonight, my dear,” she leaned in and smiled at you like you were in on some secret. Your confusion grew.

Nothing save for seasonal festivals and feasts ever happened in your village. Besides, if there was anything happening tonight, you were sure you’d know about it. 

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean—”

“Oh, hush,” Agnetha cackled. “I remember it all too well when I was your age. Your grandmother and I snuck off to Geris many a time when we were girls. These are for your hair. It is said they will bring you good fortune and a happy husband if worn on the feast of Saint Julia.”

“Geris,” you mumbled, all of it clicking into place.

Geris was a neighboring village—a town really—nearly an hour walk north of your own. It was larger and a bigger hub for trade than your own home, as it bordered the sea. Petyr would often go there to drink or gamble with his friends, sometimes not returning for days on end. You had never been. 

“There is a festival in Geris today?” You asked Agnetha, who now looked as confused as you had been moments ago.

“Why yes,” she laughs. “The largest one of the year—Saint Julia is the patron saint of Geris. I–did you not know?”

“No,” you laughed, suddenly giddy with excitement, already plotting in your head how you could sneak off to experience it for yourself.

“How the times have changed,” Agnetha hummed. “When I was young, it was every mama’s worst nightmare for her daughter to sneak off to the festival of Saint Julia.”

“Is it still as grand as you remember it?” 

“I imagine so,” she smiled. “The dancing is what I loved the most.”

“Well then,” you smiled at her. “I believe I shall have to dance, won’t I?” You took the flowers from her. “With flowers in my hair.”

Agnetha smiled a secretive grin and patted your hand. 

“Do, dear. Twirl a little extra for me,” she said. “Now, be on your way—and be safe!”

You thanked her and left, walking out into the balmy warmth of mid-morning, feeling all-of-a-sudden more hopeful than you had that morning.

- 

You met Lisbeth by the miller’s pond just before noon, like you’d planned. It had been your meeting place whenever the two of you were in town for years. Growing up, since your father’s property bordered here, you’d often meet in the forest. But, once you’d become old enough to do some of the household work trading in the village, you’d had to find a place to meet during the day. 

Now, you buzzed with excitement, the news of the festival on the tip of your tongue. 

Recently, you’d been itching to do anything to distract yourself from the monotony of life in your village. As the days got warmer, more and more traders passed through, bringing with them goods and stories from far-away lands. Lands you longed to see, but knew you never would. You longed to stretch your wings, if only a little. Sneaking off to Geris would be the perfect opportunity to do that. Now the only issue was convincing Lisbeth.

You wiggled your toes in your shoes as you saw her approach, eager what you’d heard back to her. You just hoped she would be willing to go with you. 

While Lisbeth understood your desires to leave, explore, and see the world, they were not desires she shared. She had always, ever since you could remember, wanted to be married. She sighed at tales of princesses and knights, longed to fall in love and have children. And you knew that when she did that, it would be beautiful. Still, a small part of you envied her for her dreams. You wished that that could be enough for you. 

As she approached you, Lisbeth rooted through her basket, looking for something buried in its depths. 

“Please tell me you have the herbs for my mother’s headaches,” she groaned as she came to stand beside you, leaning on the wooden fence by the pond. “If I have to listen to her moaning for one more day, I will bash my skull against the wall.”

You grinned at her. 

“What?” She asked, finally looking at you. She furrowed her eyebrows. “Why do you have that look—”

“I have something to tell you.”

“Oh dear God,” she sighed. “What is it this time?”

“Before I begin, you must promise to at least consider my proposition,” you raised your eyebrows. Lisbeth sighed your name. “Promise.”

“Fine,” she says. “I’ll consider it. Now tell me, I am withering away in suspense.”

“Alright,” you smiled. “We always complain that nothing ever happens here, right?”

“Yes.”

“And we moan about wanting to see more of the rest of the world, of the rest of the country—”

“I would say you complain more than I—”

“Yes, yes, whatever,” you waved her away, causing her to laugh. “Tonight, there is to be a festival in Geris. If we leave after sunset, when our families go to sleep, we can be home before dawn—”

“Geris?” Lisbeth’s eyes widened. “That is madness—”

“It isn’t!” You assured her. “We have walked further distances many times to trade before. The only difference is—”

“It will be night!” Lisbeth shook her head. “After reports of criminals in the woods in the surrounding villages, do you really think it smart to go venturing to Geris after dark?”

You sighed. 

“No,” she raised her hand. “Do not try to argue. You have a chaperone now because of the dangers. Even your father can see we are at risk.”

Your heart sank. 

“Lisbeth,” you reasoned. “That happened weeks ago. Nothing more has happened–it was likely ruffians passing through. Traders, nothing more.”

“You are mistaken,” she folded her arms. “I heard tell this morning of another attack on a young couple. At a village only a few leagues away.”

“What?”

“It was a farmer’s daughter from Frayley,” she elaborated. “She snuck away in the night to meet with a boy from the village. Her lover was killed, and the girl was ruined. Her honor sullied, barely living.”

Your breath left your chest, a familiar clamminess taking over your hands. 

This story was nothing new; when you were younger, before the new Lord of your county had taken power, such attacks were commonplace. The forests around your village had been infested for a time—small bands of ruffians and criminals who would carry maidens away in the night and burn houses to the ground after looting them. There were several girls in your village who had been abducted and held for ransom, and one who had even been forcibly taken to wife. By the time the Lord of the county had gotten word, they had already been married in the eyes of god. There was nothing to be done. 

It had been something that had enraged your mother. You were too young to worry about such things, but you have vivid memories of the doors being always bolted shut, your mother sleeping with a dagger beneath her pillow. 

The thought of such uncertainty and violence returning to your land made your stomach turn. 

“I see,” you said. 

“Yes,” Lisbeth sighed. “I wish to explore, but not at the risk of our lives and honor.”

You smiled at her sadly and nodded. 

“Two women alone in the wood at night is a recipe for disaster anyway,” she continued. “How I envy men.”

You threw your head back and laughed at that, having had the same thought multiple times.

You wondered often what navigating the world would be like if you weren’t seen as a target simply for your sex. You would ponder what the world would look like if you could walk alone, unaccompanied, how different your life would be if you were able to work, own land, travel alone. If you had the liberties afforded to the likes of William, of Tovar. The very thought of it made your stomach turn with envy.

That’s when it hit you: William. Tovar. And you knew what you had to do.

- - 

When you arrived at Olga’s little stone cottage at the edge of the village, your brow was damp with perspiration. 

The sun was high, well past mid-day, and you knew you had to meet Tovar soon. You would be late, just like you’d planned. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d kept him waiting and you knew that he’d be in a sour mood for the rest of the day–well, sourer than usual–and that was detrimental to your plan. You needed him agreeable if it was to work. 

You sighed as you made your way up the dusty road to her door. 

Olga was someone who you held fondness for. She was an old woman, a widow with white hair and a thick accent. Her husband was a merchant who left her a reasonable sum of money when he died, so she lived comfortably and alone, something you’d never seen a woman do before her. She was from a country from the far South, Aragon, and she had forsaken her homeland for her husband. For love. It all sounded so romantic to you that you almost forgot your own personal objections to marriage. 

You have memories from your younger years of your mother and her exchanging herbal wisdom over tea. She educated your mother on the herbal remedies of her homeland and in exchange,  your mother shared her knowledge of the plants native to your own kingdom.

As you approached her cottage, you heard the faint sound of voices conversing inside made you puzzle. Olga was a generally reclusive woman–it was rare for her to have visitors. 

You approached her door and knocked gently, calling inside. 

“Olga?” You called, hoping your voice would carry through the open window. 

“Ah, yes! Come in, come in,” she called back, voice painted with laughter. 

You nudged open the door and took in the small sitting room in her cottage. On the wooden table in the center there was a clay bowl filled with oranges, no doubt traded from a merchant. Your mouth watered. You knew oranges were commonplace in the South, but here they were a luxury few could afford, including yourself. 

“In here,” Olga’s voice called, louder now, from the adjoining room which served as a kitchen. 

What you saw made you stop in your tracks. 

There, standing in Olga’s well-furnished kitchen, leaning against the worn brick of her stove, stood Tovar, arms folded in front of him, across his face a genuine smile. A smile. It was the first time you saw one cross his face. Your breath left your chest. 

Of course he’d have a gorgeous smile, you thought spitefully. 

You hadn’t realized you were frozen until a warm hand on your shoulder startled you. 

Olga looked at you expectantly, the lines on her face graceful in the early afternoon light. You blinked.

“What?”

“I said, have you met Pero, mi amor?” She smiled at you softly. “He is a blacksmith’s apprentice in town. New.”

You stumble over your words for a moment, tongue like lead in your mouth. 

“Si, Doña.” Tovar–Pero’s–eyes caught yours from across the room. “We are acquainted.”

“Ha!” Olga laughed, throwing her head back. “Doña he calls me. You flatter me, caballero. I am no Doña.”

You smiled at them, shifting on your feet. You knew nothing save a word or two of the strange language they spoke. Castillian, you thought. 

“He speaks to me as if I am a high-born lady, child,” Olga said, sensing your confusion. 

“You are mistaken,” Pero smiled slightly at the older woman. “I know una mujer honrada when I see one, Doña.”

Olga leveled him with a wry smile and held up a finger, wagging it at him. 

“You watch out for this one,” she looked over to you. “He is a charmer.”

You couldn’t help the snort that escaped your lips. Of all the words you would use to describe your surly bodyguard, a charmer was not one of them. Pero shoots you a withering glare at your laugh. 

“What is so humorous?” He tilted his head.

“Forgive me,” you smirked, sensing his wounded pride. “I wouldn’t use the word ‘charmer’ to describe your countenance.”

Olga tilted her head, hands finding her hips. 

“How exactly do the two of you know each other?”

“I am a companion of her cousin’s,” Pero’s gaze moved to the woman in between you. “We have traveled together for… too long. Her family is providing us with lodging until we are able to find work and continue on.”

“Well, a small world indeed,” she smiled. “How have you found our village, then? Quite different than Toledo, no?”

Pero chuckled, shaking his head and looking down. 

“Quite,” he said. “In truth, it has been a long time since I have journeyed home. But compared to other places my trade has brought me, it is not so different. Though I have found the people of this kingdom more skeptical of outsiders than my own homeland.”

The admission surprised you; you had spent months trying to pry any bit of information out of Tovar you could to no avail. And now, with Olga, he was an open book. It made you wonder: was it just you that he had an aversion to sharing with? You bristled at the thought. 

“Yes, it is something to adjust to,” Olga patted Pero on his shoulder. “They are not used to Southerners here. We must stick together.”

Olga turned to you. 

“What brings you here, child? Do you bring me more concoctions from your mother?”

Your smile thinned and you clasped your hands in front of you. 

“No,” you admitted. “It’s my father. I was sent to see if you have any of your lemon-honey tonic left from the cold months. His breathing has gotten worse.”

Olga’s lips pressed together in a sympathetic smile. 

“Of course,” she said. “I keep some reserves in the cellar. I’ll go get them now, and I’ll have another batch brewed specially for him in a fortnight.”

“Oh, please don’t trouble yourself–”

“Hush, it is no trouble at all.” She walked over to you and grabbed your shoulders, her eyes sparkling as she regarded you. “With my Louis gone, there is no one for me to look after. I daresay I have missed it. Besides,” she placed a soft palm on your cheek. “Your family has shown me true kindness in the years I have known you.”

You smiled a tear-filled smile at her. 

“Thank you,” you said. 

“Think nothing of it,” she patted your cheek. “It seems your family has a habit of adopting strays.” 

With a wink, Olga flitted away to the wooden door that led to the cellar, leaving you and Pero standing awkwardly in her kitchen. 

“So,” you began before an awkward silence could settle. “What brings you here?”

“A delivery,” he huffed. “A new lock for her door.”

“I didn’t know Colm has you running deliveries now,” you picked at a fingernail. “I thought the whole point of being an apprentice was to learn.”

Pero rolled his eyes at you, annoyance clouding his features. He leveled you with a glare. 

“I know my way around a forge better than that man,” he hissed at you. 

You smirked. You always knew how to set him off—how to wound his pride just enough that he would lash out. 

“I have been an apprentice since I could walk. I have nothing to learn. It is only an easy way to earn coin.”

“Your father was a blacksmith, then?”

Pero’s eyes narrowed at you before he sighed, seemingly tired of your antics. 

“Yes,” he said. “He taught me his trade before I took up my sword.”

“Hm,” you said. “I always wished I would’ve learned the trade. But no, it was too unladylike for me. My mother forbade it.”

Pero snorted at that. You bristled again and shot him a venomous look. 

“What? You think it silly for a girl to want to learn something other than sewing or weaving?”

“I think it silly that people in your kingdom think that is all a girl is good for,” he countered. “A waste. My father made sure my sisters knew a trade before he died.”

You blinked.

His response surprised you. A sentiment like his was rare, especially in a place like here. But more than that, it was the first time he’d said something remotely kind to you. In your mind, he was a brute, with no compassion or regard for others.

“You have sisters?” You asked, your curiosity piqued. It wasn’t often you could squeeze information out of him; you wanted to see how much you could get before his mood turned sour again. 

“So many questions,” he shook his head. 

“Forgive me for trying to make conversation,” you replied dryly. 

“It does not matter,” he huffed after a moment. “They are gone now.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but Olga’s footsteps nearing the kitchen stopped you. 

“Here we go,” she said kindly, handing you a clay jar sealed shut. “This will help. Come back next week for another batch, or come tell me if it gets worse.”

You smiled at her kindness. 

“Thank you, Olga.” You said. “Your kindness will not be forgotten.”

“Think nothing of it.”

“Thank you, Doña, for your hospitality. But I’m afraid we must be going if we are to make it back in time for supper.”

“Of course, of course.” Olga waved her hands, ushering you to the front door. “Be safe. I’ve heard tell of bands of criminals in the woods as of late.”

“We will,” you waved as you left her house, basket in one hand and the tonic for your father in the other. 

“No preocupes, we will be home before dark,” Tovar said over your shoulder from where he walked in front of you. 

He seemed more chipper as he walked down the dirt road, beginning the journey home. You silently thanked the gods for it–you’d need him in a good mood for your plan to work. Even though you knew the deciding factor would come down to William, you still needed Tovar to be there in order for Lisbeth to feel safe enough to journey to Geris. You would be futile in convincing him, you knew; he hated you. But, though he put up a front, you knew that William could convince Pero of anything. 

As the two of you walked home, you silently hoped that your plan would work. 

- - 

“You are out of your mind,” Pero’s eyes were wide as he regarded William, hands on his hips in front of the fire. 

It was well past sundown, and your family had gone to bed already. You hid in the loft, peeking down into the large room below where William stood speaking in hushed tones with Pero.

You’d pulled him aside before dinner with your proposal: to sneak off to Geris in the night for the festival and be back before dawn tomorrow.

You knew he was your best chance. You’d begun to recognize the signs of restlessness in him–the twitching of his fingers, the brainstorming with Pero about where they would go after the harvest ended in the autumn. He and you were alike in that way: always longing for adventure. The only difference was that he actually had the freedom to seek what he longed for. 

Either way, after some badgering, he’d agreed. You always had that effect on him–he couldn’t ever say no to you, even as a child. Besides, you’d already told Lisbeth to meet you after dark in front of your family’s house, with the promise that the two mercenaries would be there to protect you on the road. 

Now, the only one left to convince was Pero. 

“Come, brother.” William reasoned. “We have had nothing but work for weeks. Don’t you fancy a drink in a tavern? A change of scenery?”

“There is a tavern here,” Pero ground out, throwing up his hands. “There is no need to traipse through dark woods in the dead of night for an ale. I have spent my day laboring in front of a hot forge and acting as a sworn sword to your child of a cousin. All I wanted was to come home, fill my belly, and sleep. Now you ask this of me.”

You felt a pang of hurt at the belittlement, and a surge of resentment toward the Spaniard. You were not a child; you hadn’t been for quite some time. You’d practically had to be the man of the house in the months before William arrived, with your mother so preoccupied with your father’s help and Petyr drowning in his cups. That was a responsibility you suspected Pero would never have to shoulder. 

William’s voice called your attention back to the men by the fire. 

Pero had moved, sitting in the wicker chair to the left of the kitchen, sharpening his sword with a whetstone. His eyes looked deadly trained on the blade. William stood with his arms crossed next to him.

“She is a woman grown and you know that,” William said, sighing. “I do not know why you dislike her so. She is a fine young lady.”

“You watch her then.”

“Really, Pero. Why do you let her affect you in such a way? You can face the enemy’s sword without so much as a flinch, but put you in the presence of a maiden and you tremble like a leaf.”

“I do not tremble,” you heard Pero seethe. “She is insolent and foolish, and cannot follow a schedule. I am always late because of her.”

William laughed at that. 

“You are bothered too easily, friend.” 

Pero grumbled in response, eyes still focused on sharpening his longsword. You heard a rustle from outside the opened window and realized with a start—it must be Lisbeth. 

You hurried over to the window and peeked out, catching a glimpse of Lisbeth’s auburn hair in the light of the fire that showed through the downstairs window. She was hidden by a long dark cloak, no doubt belonging to one of her brothers. 

A surge of pride shot through you at the sight of her. You knew she was risking a lot–much more than you–by sneaking off into the night like this. She was of a higher station than you, and would soon be wed to some far flung lord, or even a duke. She risked her reputation being tarnished. And yet, here she was, brave as ever. 

“If you do not agree, you will force my hand,” you heard William’s voice. You hurried back to the loft to spy yet again, knowing that soon you’d have to go fetch your friend who watched from the downstairs window. 

You saw that now, William stood in front of the fire, blocking the line of light Pero needed to sharpen his sword. 

“Move, amigo. I’m not in the mood.”

“And I lament that, but you are coming with us.”

“Us?”

“Yes—”

“I should have known she was behind this. No. If my mind wasn’t made up before, it is now. I will not go with her—”

Your laugh interrupted him, and gave away your hiding place. Pero’s eyes, full of ire, snapped to you. You stood up and raced down the stairs, conscious to not make too much noise, lest you be discovered by your family. 

“Oh, please Tovar,” you said, approaching where he sat. “It will be fun.”

He looked at you with a dry expression. 

“No.”

“But—”

“No.” He gritted his teeth, standing up to come and stand toe-to-toe with you. You flushed at how close he was—you could see every wrinkle, every freckle, every dimension of his scar. It made your throat dry. 

“Why?” You asked, voice packed with as much irritation as his.

“I am driving myself mad escorting you to and from town every day, Señora.” He spat the word, making you blink. “I will not spend another moment more than necessary in your presence. Not unless forced.” 

“I’ll call in my favor, then.” William drawled amusedly from in front of you. 

You started, having forgotten that he was there. You took a step back from his counterpart. 

“Pardon?” Pero turned to William. 

“My favor,” William smirked and tilted his head. “You owe me.”

“I owe you nothing—”

“Remember Vienna, Pero?” William’s eyebrows rose. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten already–”

“I’ve forgotten nothing.” Pero’s glare would scare even the fiercest of knights, but William didn’t even look phased by it.

“Then it’s settled,” William clapped his hands together. “We will leave immediately. We’re losing moonlight already.”

“Lisbeth’s in the garden,” you piped up, already pulling your satchel over your shoulder. 

Pero looked like a deer caught in the headlights. William moved to follow you, picking up his sword from where it was leaned against the brick of the fireplace. 

“Lisbeth’s in the garden,” he repeated after you, smiling at his companion, who glared into the side of his head. You giggled. 

“Make haste, Pero,” you called over your shoulder. “Or we’ll miss the festivities.”

Wordlessly, he sheathed his sword and stood, glaring at you. The glare didn’t scare you though. You knew it was one of annoyance—one you often drew from Pero. 

He grumbled to himself before shouldering his sword and following you out the door.

- - 

William had convinced Pero that the horses could handle two riders, with the distance being so small between your village and Geris. Besides, the two mares had gotten little to no excitement since the two mercenaries made their way into your small village. William reasoned it would do them well to stretch their legs. 

So, you were two to a horse each. And since Pero intimidated Lisbeth, you were stuck with him while Lisbeth rode comfortably with your cousin. The two made small-talk as you trotted through the kingsroad by moonlight. You gazed over at their shadowy figures as they talked, Lisbeth sidled up to William comfortably in the saddle behind him. You smirked. She had always thought he was handsome, ever since you were children. She was quite at her leisure. In contrast to you, who was trying to sit as far away from the grumpy man steering the horse in front of you. 

You jostled as the horse trotted over a bump in the road, yelping and grabbing roughly onto Pero’s waist. 

“Alright there?” William called from a few steps away. You nodded a yes. 

“Hold on,” Pero grumbled. “You’ll break your neck, and your mother will have mine.”

You had no quick-witted response to that. If there was anything in this world that could cause an experienced mercenary to tremble in fear, it was your mother. So, you simply tightened your grip around his waist, locking your hands together. He stiffened as you did. 

You hated how comfortable his broad back felt pressed into your front, how his scent overtook you. He smelled of fire, the forge, sandalwood, and leather. It was a far-cry from the rank stench that followed him and William when they arrived.

Lisbeth laughed from her place on the road beside you while William regaled her of stories from his travels. You frowned at the grumpy man in front of you, silent save for the way he mumbled under his breath to the horse  in his mother tongue. 

“Does your horse have a name?” You asked. 

“Hmm?” He grunted, turning his head a bit to face you. 

“The mare. What is her name?”

“Horse,” he replied shortly. 

“Horse?” You asked incredulously. “Her name is horse?”

“She has never needed a name,” he said.

“All animals need names,” you sighed. “All of mine do.”

“Hm,” he hummed, not unkindly. “I suppose I wouldn’t know what to name her even if I desired to.”

You paused and thought for a moment. This was perhaps the most civil conversation you had ever had, and it was about a horse. Still, you were loath to see it end. 

“She is quite fond of the clovers that grow by the barn. I often see her grazing there. What about clover?”

“Clover,” he repeats, turning the words over in his mouth. He hums. “It is better than Horse, I suppose.”

After that, the rest of the ride is filled with comfortable silence save for the sound of the hum of conversation from the couple on horseback beside you. Despite yourself, you smile. Perhaps you and the Spaniard could find middle ground after all. 

- 

The festival was like something from a fairy story. And as you stood there, even Lisbeth, who had grown up surrounded by nobles and visits to court was in wonder at the gaiety of it all. 

As soon as your group had approached the city gates, you could hear the music—upbeat and lilting, with clapping and voices singing accompanying it. Your heart had leapt at the sound.

Dancing. There was little in life you enjoyed more than letting the music take you and spinning away. 

As you took in the city, you didn’t know where to look. There was light everywhere: torches and lamps making the streets seem like they were glowing. You could hear strange languages on the tongues of passersby as you walked, making sure to keep close to your group. The smell of the sea breeze lingered in the air, telling you you were close to the sea. You smiled at it. You’d never seen the ocean, and though you knew you wouldn’t tonight, the smell of it awakened something in you. Above the thatched roofs above your head, you could make out the shadowy figures of the tops of sails—boats, resting in the harbor.

You and Lisbeth followed William and Pero to a stable near the heart of the city, where William payed to have the two mares quartered for the few hours that you planned to be there. 

When you reached what must’ve been the town square, Lisbeth gripped your arm tightly, face beaming as she took in the grandeur of it all.

There were countless stalls set up around the perimeter of the cobbled town-center, tents and poorly-built shacks selling all manner of trinkets and gifts. There were food-stalls, jewelry, flowers, tapestries—too much for you to fully take in. In front of one of the taverns that bordered the town center, there was a group of people, sitting in rickety wooden chairs and stools, playing music. There was an old man with a mandolin, hair graying and beard long, a young woman with a lute, a lumbering man sitting behind them playing a violin with startling precision. 

In the center of the square, countless couples danced in tune with each other. It was a popular dance in your part of the world—an upbeat ballad about a hare and a tortoise, one you’d been dancing at harvest and midsummer festivals since you were a child. 

You smiled so wide your cheeks hurt. 

“Look!” Lisbeth cried, turning to you, grip still on your arm. “Do you remember when were ten and you had to dance with—”

“Eldon!” You winced, remembering the handsy youth only a few years older than you that you’d been forced to dance with by your mother. There had been a time that she was hopeful for a match between the two of you, but he’d ended up marrying a girl in a neighboring village and moving there to take over her father’s house. You were glad of it; he’d been an unpleasant boy.

“The candle-maker’s son?” William smirked from the other side of Lisbeth. 

“The very same,” you groaned. 

“Oh, he was the most odious boy,” Lisbeth added. 

“Really?” William asked. “I remember him being quite shy, if a bit ill-,mannered.”

“Ill-mannered doesn’t even begin to describe him,” you countered, remembering his wandering hands and leering gaze. “I don’t know if I can remember someone else whose face was so vile.”

“Are we remembering the same boy?” William asked. Beside him, Pero’s eyes scanned the crowd, looking bored with the conversation. “I remember him differently.”

“Because he wanted to be you, cousin,” you smiled at him. “He was positively disgusting.”

“He had a scar that cut across his forehead,” Lisbeth added. “From a riding accident.”

At that, Pero stiffened and his jaw clenched, his eyes finding you as William and Lisbeth continued talking. 

“Yes, that’s the boy,” William nodded. “Was he truly so bad?”

You opened your mouth to respond before being interrupted.

“Ah yes,” Pero snapped, surprising you. The sharpness of this tone was something you were unused to. His lip curled as he addressed you. “Because a scar is truly what makes a man’s character. How unfortunate for you that you had to look upon the face of someone so…what did you say, Senora? Disgusting.”

He spit the word at you like it was poison. You gawked at his tone, at the malice in his voice, before feeling your own ire bubble in your gut. William and Lisbeth stood perplexed between you. 

“He was disgusting,” you countered, taking a step toward Pero. “Because of his untoward behavior and hands that had a habit of wandering up ladies’ skirts. The scar had nothing to do with it. Though how good it is to finally know your opinion of me, Tovar.” 

He just opened his mouth, gaping like a fish, before you grabbed Lisbeth’s hand and began to walk toward the crowd. 

A new, more slow, group number had begun to play, and you and Lisbeth fell in line with the masses enjoying the festival. From behind you, you could faintly hear the sound of William scolding his companion. 

“I see what you mean,” Lisbeth said to you after a moment. 

You looked at her in confusion, before turning into the next step of the dance. 

“He is unpleasant,” she elaborated. “And rude. No matter how handsome he is. I am sorry for ever thinking otherwise.”

You sighed and linked your arm with hers, as the dance called for. 

“It’s alright,” you smiled. “You couldn’t have known.”

She returned your smile and squeezed your arm. 

“I wonder why he is so…”

“So…uncaring? Aloof? Unkind?”

“...melancholy.” She finished, and you started. 

Of all the words you would use to describe Pero Tovar, melancholy was not one of them.

“What?” She asked, noticing your confused look. “You cannot deny he has a sad air about him. Besides, to think someone so cruel as to call a young boy disgusting because of his scar? To think that you could be that cruel? He must have a sad outlook on life indeed.”

You hummed, reflecting on her words.

Lisbeth was right—as she so often was. It hadn’t been a point of view you considered before. Perhaps the reason why Pero’s countenance was so impatient and dreary was because of something else, something out of your control. As soldiers, he and William had seen the worst of mankind. You remembered what he’d said to you earlier that day, about his sisters. It doesn’t matter, they’re all gone. Perhaps there was a reason he didn’t wish to discuss his travels.

You rid all thoughts of the Spaniard from your mind as you finished the dance; you didn’t want your one night of freedom ruined. 

As you and Lisbeth exited the center of the town square, you spotted Pero, sulking and leaning up against a wooden beam that supported the awning to a tavern. You suppressed a smirk at the glowering look on his face. William must have scolded him for speaking to you how he did. 

Good, you thought.

“Pero,” Lisbeth called cheerily once you got close enough. “Where has William got to?”

Pero’s eyes flickered to you for a moment, clouded with something you didn’t understand. He opened his mouth to say something, deep, dark eyes still trained on you, when William’s booming voice interrupted you. 

“Cousin!” He called jovially, four frothing metal cups in his hands. They were overflowing with an amber-colored liquid. 

“That had better not be beer,” you wrinkled your nose, always having hated the grainy-tasting drink. 

“Mead, cousin. Come! Let us make merry while we can,” William looked as if he’d had a drink himself already. “I would beg of you both one dance before the night is through. I cannot bring the most beautiful women in the land to a festival and not demand a dance.”

You rolled your eyes fondly at your cousin’s silver tongue. Beside you, Lisbeth blushed behind her cup. You took your own drink, the metal cool beneath your fingers, and relished in the sweet, honey-flavor of the fermented drink. Mead was a delicacy to you. Your family was rarely rich enough to afford more than ale, and you had long been wary of it, not wanting to fall prey to the cup like your brother. Tonight, though, you drank eagerly. Behind his own cup, Pero’s eyes remained trained on you, full of an emotion you couldn't place. 

- - 

After her dance with William, Lisbeth pulled you aside. 

Her pale cheeks were rosy with exertion and with drink, her breath sweet and smelling of mead. You smiled at her, glad to see your often high-strung best friend relaxed for once. 

She stepped on an uneven stone and lost her footing, stumbling into you with a giggle.

“Oh!” She exclaimed through a laugh, leaning into you. “If my mother could only see me now. She would be aghast.” 

You giggled with her, pushing a stray auburn hair away from her eyes.

“Her high-born lady, absolutely ruined,” you teased. 

“And dancing with a mercenary, can you imagine?” 

“What ever shall we do with you?”

Lisbeth just laughed. It was a deep laugh, coming from her belly. One you didn’t hear often. Once she caught her breath, Lisbeth sighed, resting her head on your shoulder. The two of you watched as the people danced in the square, content.

“Thank you,” she mumbled after a moment. “I have had a wonderful time. I am glad to have had at least one night like this before—”

Lisbeth stopped herself, clamping her lips shut. You paused. 

“Before what?” You asked. 

Lisbeth pulled away from you, wringing her hands together in front of her, gaze trained on the cobblestones below your feet. 

“Before what, Lisbeth?” You asked again.

When she looked up at you, her eyes were teary. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth before she spoke. 

“I am to be wed,” she said, voice warbling. “Before midsummer. My father just told me this morning.”

“What?” you asked, all breath leaving your chest. 

“I wanted to tell you right away,” she said, a tear streaming down her face now. “But when I tried, I just couldn’t. Then, I wanted to enjoy tonight. I thought if I’m to move away and become a wife, I’ll at least have tonight.”

You blinked, processing what exactly this meant. 

Of course, she’s to be married, you thought. It was strange enough that she wasn’t betrothed at the age of ten and nine. Her father had finally made his decision. She was a lady of high station, the daughter of a Lord—this was her duty. One she was excited for, even. She had always wanted to be the mistress of her own house. You should be happy for her. 

So why did you feel so sad?

“Who,” you croaked, before clearing your throat. “Who is he?”

Lisbeth smiled weakly. 

“A Lord,” she said, laughing a little. “He lives a two-days ride to the North. My father says he is kind.”

“Have you met him?” You asked.

“Once,” she smiled. “But I was little more than a girl, and I barely remember.”

“Will you have time to…be acquainted before…”

Before the wedding. The words hang in the air between you. 

“Yes,” she nodded. “He will come visit in a fortnight.”

You nodded dumbly, realizing the reality that faced you: your best friend would be leaving you to begin her life, and you would be left behind. The thought brought tears to your eyes. 

“And he’s not…old, is he?”

It had long been one of Lisbeth’s fears that her father would wed her to a man too many years her senior—an old, country lord who she could never grow to love. If she was to be sold off like a broodmare to a man old enough to be her grandsire, you didn’t think you could stand it. 

“No,” she smiled shakily. “He is young—only nine years my senior.”

You breathed a sigh of relief at that. Little mercies. You took a deep breath and squared your shoulders, willing the moisture to leave your eyes. You would not cry in front of her. 

“And, are you happy with the arrangement?”

Lisbeth considered it a moment. 

“I am… relieved he is not old. It is too soon to tell without actually meeting him, but I trust my father’s judgment. I am his only daughter. I do not believe he would part with me for someone unworthy.”

You smiled at your best friend–your ever constant, loyal companion. Her auburn hair shone around her head in the yellow light of the evening. Her eyes shone with hope. She was ready for this, you knew it. You ignored the pang of melancholy in your stomach and squeezed her arms. For now, you would be happy for her. You would save your tears for later. 

“No, I daresay he wouldn’t.”

 You pulled her into a hug. She sighed against you. 

“You shall be at my wedding,” she declared once she pulled back. “I will refuse to be wed without you.”

You laughed at her. 

“Me, surrounded by lords and ladies,” you snorted at the idea.

“Hush,” she smacked your arm. “We are not so different from you lot. Besides, I much prefer your company to theirs any day.”

You smiled at her, linking your arm with hers as you ventured into the square to find your companions. 

“Come, let us enjoy the rest of the night,” you said. 

“Let us,” she replied jovially. 

As the two of you continued on, you ignored the pit in your stomach at the idea of Lisbeth’s impending nuptials. 

- -

Your group departed with hours left until sunrise—plenty of time to return to your beds without your families noticing. 

The hopeless feeling that struck you at the revelation of Lisbeth’s engagement stuck with you, though, even after you bridled your horses and began your trek home. 

Beside you, William hummed a tune while Lisbeth dozed off behind him. Your arms were loosely wrapped around Pero’s waist as he rode silently. The two of you still hadn’t exchanged a word since the tense encounter in Geris’s town square. Still, you hadn’t been on the receiving end of any of his glares for the rest of the evening. 

You pondered what your life would look like after Lisbeth left. You couldn’t help it. For as long as you could remember, it was you and her. Your mother has acted as midwife in Lisbeth’s birth, and ever since, her mother had been a loyal patron of your mother’s herbal remedies. You and her had been friends since infancy. And now, she was leaving. Entering and finding her place in the wide, expansive world. And you were going to be stuck where you’d always been: caring after your ailing father and serving as a punching bag for your drunken brother. 

The thought of Lisbeth’s absence from your life made your eyes fill with tears, and before you knew it, they were streaming down your cheeks. 

You turned your head away from William, knowing if he saw you cry, he’d make a fuss. You took a few shaky breaths, trying to calm yourself, but failed. Before you knew it, you were shaking with tears against Pero’s back. 

You knew he could feel your sobs, but couldn’t find it in you to care. He was going to judge you no matter what you did—he’d made that much clear tonight. You might as well let yourself weep. 

After a moment, though, he surprised you. You heard Pero breathe your name, so quietly you scarcely heard it. 

You sniffled, trying to cover the sounds of your tears. You mumbled an apology, feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. But instead of pestering or making fun of you, Pero only hummed in acknowledgement, before wrapping a rough palm around your own and squeezing. 

His hand remained wrapped in yours the rest of the way home, a silent show of support. It baffled you, but you didn’t have time to even begin to question it. Instead, you just let yourself cry, leaning against the Spaniard for support. The rest could wait til the morning.

#pedro pascal #pero tovar #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar x female reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar imagine #pero tovar x reader #pero x reader #pero tovar fic #the great wall fanfic #the great wall fanfiction #pero tovar x y/n

[palioom]

day thirty - free use

pairing: pero tovar x f!reader

word count: 652

warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n; free use, blowjob, face fucking (?); facial (not the beauty kind)

• kinktober 2023 masterlist •

“Come here, hermosa.” Pero’s gruff voice appeared beside her, his tall form standing next to where she sat on the ground. “Open your pretty mouth for me.”

She didn’t even blink, just turning her head and smiling up at him when she took his thick cock into her mouth. Her fingers still working on the worn down clothes in her hands, something she had wanted to tend to for a while now.

They had settled down here for the night after a long day of riding, with Pero having started a bonfire before leaving to hunt for something to eat. All while she had used the time to begin to mend their torn clothing, stitching them together as well as she could. Completely forgetting the world around her until he had come back.

Clearly pent up and needing some release.

Just shoving his cock into her mouth, groaning as his hand threaded into her hair. He loved that she was so eager, accepting his advances every time without complaints.

No matter where and no matter when, always ready to take him whenever he wanted. And in return receiving the same from him. If she wanted her hungry cunt filled, he would do so, it didn’t matter what he was doing at the time. If she wanted to suck him off for her own satisfaction or have his mouth on her, he would do so.

Just like now, moving her head how he saw fit, pushing himself in all the way, feeling her throat constrict around him as she whined, then pulling back again and keeping his thrusts shallow.

Sometimes he would just wake her up in the night to fuck her, other times he just pulled down her breeches when she cooked or tended to the horse.

She loved it, the spontaneity of it, always excited about when he would do it again, taking her own in the meantime.

“Fuck, that feels good.” He groaned, his head thrown back and looking up at the stars. This little agreement of theirs would never make him tired. “You love it too, hermosa?”

Her agreement came in the form of a moan, vibrating around his thick, sweaty cock, her hands finally stilling in her lap. Simply letting him move her head, feeling herself get wet.

She loved the danger it brought sometimes, in the middle of nowhere where people could simply attack them.

“Want me to spill down your pretty throat?” He asked with a deep grunt, looking back down at her. Taking in how spit pooled at the corner of her lips, some of it already dripping down her chin. “Or want me to paint your face?”

It wouldn’t matter what she wanted, it was part of the deal. And he would really love to see her face covered in his cum.

She simply hummed, a hum that could mean anything, and he sped up until he felt himself right at the peak, the slick sounds echoing between them in the silent night.

Pulling out and holding her head in position as his other hand wrapped around his cock, stroking it until he spilled himself all over her with a loud groan. She gasped when the first ropes laid over her face, sticking out her tongue to catch the rest of it.

Eagerly taking what he gave her with a hum, licking her lips once his cock had stopped pumping, one of her hands coming up to take him into her mouth to clean the remnants off of it.

Pero could only watch with a wide grin, putting his softening cock away once she was done and letting go of her.

“My pretty, pretty girl.” He said, admiring his work on her face. She shook her head with a quiet laugh, her hands beginning to mend his shirt again.

As if nothing had happened, while he began to skin the rabbit he had caught.

#pedro tovar #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar x ofc #pero tovar imagine #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #kinktober 2023 #my writing

[multific]

Pedro Pascal Characters Seeing Their New-born for the First Time – Preferences

Din Djarin

Din was thrilled from the moment you announced your pregnancy, he would sit down with Grogu explaining the responsibilities of a big brother.

When you give birth, he helps you. It was his fault that you were on a deserted planet after all. He feared the worst, but you were strong and so was your child.

When he first held his daughter, she was still covered in blood, but in his eyes, she was the definition of perfection.

Jack Daniels

This wasn’t the first time he was about to become a father, but this was the time he was super cautious. Making sure you were safe at every second, he doesn’t want to go through the same pain as before.

When you gave birth, he was on a mission. He was called by Ginger and he immediately dropped everything. But he was late.

By the time he arrived to the hospital, you were sleeping and so, he let you sleep while he walked over to the glass so he could see his child. And surely enough Jack found him. The only baby with just a last name, meaning you wanted to wait until he was there to name him.

He felt a tear fall from his eyes as he looked at him, he knew he would do anything to keep his family safe.

Marcus Moreno

It was a quiet night, everyone was sleeping when you woke up. Marcus didn’t even move an inch when you got out of bed. You were in desperate need to pee.

But on your way back to the bed, you felt a terrible pain.

Of course, when you woke Marcus up, he was running around like a chicken without a head, thank God for Missy who was able to help you out.

This wasn’t the first time Marcus her his own baby and standing there he wouldn’t want this to be the last either. He cried. Tears rolling down his face while he held his youngest daughter.

Of course, Missy took multiple pictures of him which she planned on blackmailing her father later on in his life.

Oberyn Martell

Childbirth was something he was used to. He had many daughters before you even came into the picture.

But this was the very first time he held a son and not a daughter. It felt special, and as much as he loved his daughters, his heart still felt a different way to see the youngest addition to his ever-growing family.

He swore his entire life to protect him as he would be his rightful heir. You even caught a glimpse of a tear running down his cheek before he whiped it.

Javier Pena

Panic wouldn’t even begin to describe what he went through that day. He thought he would rather go after another Escobar guy instead of going through this hell, and he didn’t even had to do anything. He held your hand and that’s all. You did all the work.

His mind often went to that dark place, that dark place which told him to just run, leave and never come back, but he stayed.

And that dark voice in the back of his head disappeared when he held his daughter for the first time. And how glad he was that he didn’t leave.

Tiny little girl with his eyes. Perfection. He just stood there, frozen as he looked at her. Not even giving her to the nurses when they asked.

Pero Tovar

After your third child you thought Pero would have enough. You thought he would have enough and not want more children. But you were wrong. Two girls and a boy weren’t enough. He wanted more. And you were happy to give him more.

Each birth was more terrifying to him than the last. He loved his children all the same and he just loved you a little more as he held his second son. Each time he was reminded just how amazing you were and it made his heart explode.

Him, a rough swordsman, such a soft and kind father and husband. He never saw himself in that position. As you finally fell asleep, he watched the kids, showing them his youngest, like the proud father he was.

Taglist: imreadinggoaway @fleursirvart​ @v-2bucky ehsebastiancrunch-time-sports  @pxstelrainbow​ ablogbypeteparker liamssmilersmexylemony @greenarrowhead​ feelingsareharddd @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @avengers-r-us @destynelseclipsa   @spilledinkindumpster celebsimagine @capsiclesdoll snoopy3000 @firstangeldragonranch @puknow crazzyter  @alwayshave-faith @soleil-dor @alex12948 scream-kiwi79  @lxdyred  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl​ @liveforkarljacobs​​​​

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

#din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin imagines #the mandalorian imagine #the madalorian imagines #the mandalorian x reader #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar imagine #pero tovar imagines #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels imagine #jack daniels imagines #javier pena x reader #javier pena imagine #javier pena imagines #oberyn martell imagine #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell imagines #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno imagine #marcus moreno imagines #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal imagines #pedro pascal characters #kingsman imagine #kingsman imagines #agent whiskey x reader #narcos imagine #narcos imagines

[marvel-and-mischief]

okay but can you imagine making him smile like that?? Like, maybe you’ve told a dirty joke he didn’t expect would ever come out of your mouth, or maybe you’ve kicked a guy in the nuts for whispering lewd things you didn’t appreciate. And his laugh is a shock because you’ve never seen him smile unless he’s looking at a plate of food but you did that!! You made him smile!!

Or maybe it’s sweeter than that, perhaps you’re running down the hill to meet him after he’s come home from work that’s taken him away from you for weeks on end. And you’re smiling just as big, arms open ready to embrace his aching body and tired mind.

Perhaps he’s been teaching you to fight, and you’ve been stuck on a particular move and you’ve finally cracked it and the whoop you let out causes that very smile to crack his otherwise serious exterior and you feel on top of the world for making Pero so clearly proud of you.

Idk I just really love happy, smiling Pero!!

#Pero #Pero Tovar #Tovar #Pedro #Pedro Pascal #the great wall #Pero Tovar imagine

[ironmandeficiency]

pedro boys + at the pool

pedro boys included: oberyn, javi p, frankie, max, pero, jack, javi g

word count: 789

summary: just modern au thoughts on how some of the boys would act at the pool

a/n: this is not what i thought i’d be writing rn tbh but at least it’s something. there should be more content besides this posted by the end of the week

oberyn — this cheeky bastard can hold his breath for longer than humanly normal & uses this ability to dive under & scare you from behind. is also one of the best at packing snacks and typically has a frozen cocktail or wine within reach at all times, probably munching on a handful of berries (either blackberries or green grapes usually). will be the last one in the pool long after most think it’s too cold or too late. makes the BEST pool day playlist you’ve ever heard & it keeps the vibes high the whole time. any party hosted by oberyn is guaranteed to be an absolute rager & that sentiment never disappoints.

javi p — doesn’t take his shades off for anything. usually relaxing in a donut floatie with a beer (water if you fuss at him enough) in hand, but can be convinced to get in more if the water feels nice. enjoys sunbathing like a lizard & never needs sunscreen; he just tans and looks like a god afterward. just for the sake of laughter, he will push you into the water and laugh when you sputter indignantly at him. you quickly forgive him once you see his smile, knowing that those used to be much harder to bring to the surface.

frankie — he’s also a floatie guy & will be much more relaxed with his little girl sitting on it with him. otherwise he’s sitting on the edge of the pool with his feet in the water, hyper vigilant in case she needs him. she won’t need him, simply because frankie put her in swim classes as soon as she was old enough to learn & might as well be a fish. he brings extra towels, sunscreen, drinks, popsicles, snacks, and even another pair of sandals. the delta guys laugh at his overpacking… until that uncrustable starts calling their name (cough cough BENNY cough). does enjoy a good chicken fight once he’s got a beer in him. it’s either him & benny against will & santi, or any combination of them against baby girl morales (the defeats here are extra dramatic and it makes her laugh every time).

max — he won’t swim in a public pool. period. he will refuse & fight the idea until hell freezes over. instead, he will either charm someone into letting you both use their pool, or will have a private indoor pool built exclusively for your shared use. this also eliminates the need for sunscreen or worrying about privacy. gets a hot tub built in too & it’s hard to convince him to get out of it most times. will paint the bottom of the pool black and it’s such a trip the first several times you swim in it.

pero — it takes a lot to convince him to actually swim, the spaniard much more content to lounge in the sunshine. one run-in with a sea urchin on the valencia coast made him reasonably apprehensive of swimming in large bodies of water. to him, other people’s unattended children can pose the same level of danger & annoyance as various sea creatures. will swim when it’s almost empty of people, enjoying the solitude that comes with calmer waters. he floats on his back just relaxing, but the moment you dunk him, it’s game on and he fights dirty.

jack — him at the pool can be summarized in one word: showoff. he is proud that he can still flip off the edge & will gladly brag about this feat. if there’s a diving board, even better. he is a champion at playing chicken and every non-newbie statesman agent learned the hard way at a summer retirement party for agent lager. was not allowed to be in charge of the playlist after that party because it did not go well (he played “what’s new pussycat” by tom jones on repeat for 20 minutes because of an inside joke). when he’s finally ready to relax, he chills on a massive floatie with a drink in both cup holders and a straw cowboy hat on his head (think kenny chesney vibes).

javi g — he hosts the BEST pool parties hands down. everyone in attendance is always kind because javi prioritizes everyone feeling safe while having fun & security takes their job very seriously when it comes to not tolerating bullshit. plenty of snacks and drinks (alcoholic & otherwise) are provided for everyone, and the music is the perfect mix of hype and chill to keep the vibes just right. there are fairy lights and torches scattered around, and a cabana exclusively for when you and javi sneak away from the hubbub to find some privacy. when a few stragglers wake up on his floor the morning after, he provides them with breakfast & money for a ride home like a gentleman.

#pedro pascal character headcanons #javier peña imagines #javier peña x reader #javier gutierrez x reader #javier gutierrez imagine #oberyn martell imagine #oberyn martell x reader #frankie morales imagine #frankie morales x reader #agent whiskey imagine #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels imagine #max phillips x reader #max phillips imagine #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar imagine #narcos imagine #triple frontier imagines #javier peña #javier gutierrez #pero tovar #max phillips #oberyn martell #agent whiskey

[rise-my-angel]

Dreams of Secrecy

Pairing Pero Tovar x Female Reader

Length: 15.8k

Warnings: smut, oral (f and m receiving), p in v, depictions of violence, angst, angst/hurt comfort, mystery elements

Notes: Set an undisclosed amount of time after the events of the film, seeing the movie not necessary to understand the story 

The stench of death permeated the entire town outside, but did little to slow the flow of business inside. Merchants and traders alike passed through once, then twice when realizing they could go no further and had to turn back. The sizable trading port sat in the perfect area, calm channels leading into open waters in all directions with any and every kind of item being packed up or shipped out. There had never been a day you wandered through the vast market and it wasn’t incredibly busy. With that amount of people though, came disease. From the shipping docks to the small houses on the outskirts of surrounding towns, as soon as one person fell ill, they all did.

The little inn you called home was just far away enough to fight off whatever plague had spread. It was a crossroad between paths to major cities and the port, mostly with travellers as your patrons looking for a meal to eat before moving on. With the sickness spreading, most people you saw come in for one evening came back the next going back the way they came, almost none stayed for any length of time. You were far enough to be safe from catching it, but the stench of death knew no bounds, and it let its presence be known all times of the day.

You didn’t own the inn, but you sure were worked as if you did. The owner, a large man with little patience and a port belly could usually be found either in the back counting his money or drinking in the tavern. The more time he spent not doing work, the more you found yourself going from a simple worker meant to keep the rooms clean and tidy, to running around the tavern serving food and drinks as long as they were demanded.

Most patrons were polite enough typically, but tempers grew shorter as the path to the cities were cut shorter and shorter from plague. Men with seemingly permanent scowls with trade deals going stale only able to vent their frustrations with more ale and more yelling.

Luckily on one particular day, things seemed to be moving slow. The inn had a few residents with a longer stay, most of whom kept to themselves, and a scattered few coming in and out for a brief period of time. You had been busy behind the drink counter when two men came in.

Both tall and wearing what appeared to be some kind of armour stood near the doorway looking around. Straitening up, you put on a polite smile, “Looking for a drink, sirs?”

The one with bright eyes and longer hair tied back smiled and nodded, “Please, and maybe something to eat if you don’t mind?”

You already started to walk around to the main room, gesturing to small tables sitting alongside a quiet wall. “Of course, please sit I’ll bring you gentleman something from the kitchen.”  

The two turned to each other for brief words before they made their way over, both pulling off bags from over their shoulders and placing them close to their feet as they sat. The other mans companion much more fit the usual temperament of patrons as of late. A deep scowl with harsh eyes, and little words. Though his posture was more hunched then his companion, almost like he was trying to make himself appear smaller despite his broad frame. His eyes were darker, matching his shorter hair and scruff on his face. Those eyes seemed to watch you as you poured drinks and set them down on their table. “I’ll be right back with some food.”

Once again the friendlier one thanked you while the other said nothing. A scar sat down across one eye,  faded but still striking against his face. Making your way to the kitchen you wondered if he were somewhat blinded by whatever cut across him like that. It didn’t really matter though, you reminded yourself. Not sure why the curiosity even stroke your fancy, you simply shook your head and continued to work around the kitchen. Gathering up what was still warm from midday, you finally made your way back into the main room.

As the door swung open, both men had been leaned into each others space in deep conversation before pulling apart from the sound. The scowling mans head raised up and watched you with a furrowed brow as you walked over. His gaze only pulls away from you long enough to look at his plate then back to you, he still doesn’t say anything, but he does nod in appreciation.

For a while you’re busy attending to your own tasks, going over in your head what work needs to be done before you can finally retire for the evening. Cleaning the tables, a rough, accented voice grabs your attention. “What exactly is the hold up east of here, hermosa?”

Head shooting up, eyes wide looking at the man. One elbow was rested on his thigh while the other lay across the table, body turned towards you with curious looks. Your mouth opened to speak, but turned to peek at the other patrons either side of you. Lowering your head to look at the ground, you clear your throat while putting down the rag, coming to stand closer to their table. “They say it’s some kind if plague. Someone came in from the port everyone said looked like death, and it spread into all the villages around it. Everywhere east is either full of it or just empty because people are too scared to come out their houses.”

Both men glanced to the other, significant looks you did not understand flashing between them. The longer haired man spoke this time. “How long has that been going on?”

Hands wringing together in front of you, you tried to think back. “I don’t know how long since everyone started getting sick, but I know about two night ago is when I started seeing men coming back the way they came since no one wants to do any business now.” Surprisingly, the grumpier one pulled out the chair between you, waving his hand for you to sit. No one around needing attending to, or the innkeeper to yell at you, you smoothed your skirt out as you sat. “Not much business here either, with the cold starting to blow in hardly any traders are even offering anything up. Is that what you’re travelling for?”

Unbeknownst to you, each man pulled the bags they arrived with in a little closer to their person. Raising an eyebrow at the other, it was the longer haired man who answered, a little stilted in his voice. “Something like that.” Unsure if they had anything else to say, you took their further silence as a dismissal. Grabbing their empty plates as you stood, “Let me know if you gentleman require anything else.”

“Are there any rooms available in this place?” Turning swiftly, you could see the other man looking at his companion with what seemed to be a warning, but he continued on regardless. “We have business out there, no use in leaving when if we did we’d just have to guess when to come back.”

Standing a little straighter, you tried not to smile. Guests with longer stays weren’t as common anymore. “Absolutely. Let me go see if I have any rooms ready for you..” Trailing off with a paused expression.

“William, and this is Tovar.” You gave them your own name in return, telling them to wait. As soon as you walked off, both men turned dramatically to the other. Some kind of argument ensuing, the angered whispers from the man Tovar, seemed to say something along the lines of ‘what the hell are you thinking’, before their voices were too far away to decipher.

They opted for two separate rooms with plans of an unknown length of stay. William appeared to be the more social of the pair. Clear loud voice, asking questions and making pleasant conversation as you showed them upstairs. Tovar was more direct but less likely to talk. He stuck by close to your person as you explained where and when he could find certain accommodations and spoke very little. It was only when you were done showing him to his room, did he speak. Standing with his hands rested on his hips in the middle of the room, harsh eyes softening up enough to nod genuinely. “Gracias, hermosa.” Changing to a quick “Thank you” at your confused look. A small smile betrayed you as it formed on your face, before you quickly pulled it away and left.

The two kept mostly to themselves for a little bit, coming down for dinner and than breakfast the next morning, always speaking in hushed tones that silenced whenever someone passed by. William loud and chatty, while Tovar was quiet but more direct when he spoke to you. Hitting you with the impression that he didn’t seem to actually talk to many people. Tended to refer to you in words of his native tongue that you just hoped weren’t insults or rude like some of the tavern patrons called you.

You had been pretty off that afternoon. Head lost in the fog as you tried to make sense of your dream last night. It was enough that it woke you up abruptly, eyes flying open and a loud gasp leaving you as your heart pounded in your chest. It was odd, you didn’t often dream but the one last night was so stark and vivid, even though none of it came back to you clearly during the course of the day.

There were knives, loud bangs like a series of explosions, heat from what felt like a blazing fire, and for some reason, tying it all together you kept thinking about Tovar. That you really didn’t understand, why you kept trying to fit him into the flashes you remember. Either way by the time you made it down to the main room for dinnertime, the innkeeper was already berating you for being so distracted.

William was nowhere to be found, but his companion found a seat by the counter you had been working behind. Much like before you smiled and served him a meal, only this time his voice called your name back to him. “Tell me, hermosa. How long have you been in this place?”

You hesitated for a moment as he tore into his food as if expecting someone to rip it away from him. “Since as long as I could pour a drink. Never had much money growing up, so someone always had to work.”

He kept one hand across the side of his plate at all times it seemed instead of relaxing. “Lived your whole life here, no?”

You nodded, mindlessly smoothing out your already straightened skirt. “Not much of a traveller. Don’t got the money for it, but I can always dream.” His eyes narrowed at the word dream, but didn’t comment on whatever thought sparked.

“The world is nothing special anyway. Just more people trying to kill you the further you go.” His armour was off at this point, but you could spot weapons on him everywhere he went.

Your voice was quieter, but not judgmental. “Is that what you do?” His eyebrows raised almost playfully, goading you to pry more. “Kill..people?” The eye contact was captivating. His deep brown eyes flickered against the light beautifully, contrasting against the harsh intensity no doubt filling them over the years. His handsome face not helping the matter, large angled nose framed his soft features and plump lips as if what didn’t spill out of them was harsh.

His head leaned in to you more and you had to resist the temptation to follow suit. Instead keeping a polite distance, he muttered, “Does the idea bother you, hermosa?” The playfulness was toned down as you calmly shook your head no. You knew men were capable of far worse than just killing, and nothing about this one gave you a reason to feel scared. “Good.” His shoulders fell and he slouched back to continue to eat. “You see the things I’ve seen, it just becomes something you do to survive. Not something a little girl like you would know about, place like this.”

He chuckled as your eyes narrowed in annoyance. You grab the glasses in front of you aggressively to move away from his teasing, but a large hand reaches out and grabs your wrist. Almost a cold shiver hit you, flowing through you from your wrist up into your heart like ice water. His face regretful. “I meant no offence, cariño. Just teasing.” A smirk sliding right back on as you felt his thumb ever so lightly rub over your skin, “So sensitive.”

Yanking your wrist out of his hold, a deep chuckle came from him, not an unpleasant sound you thought. “You should be careful when speaking to the, little girl, who serves your food, sir.” Oh that chuckle, you felt it’s bass pound through your body in such an addicting way.

“I’ll remember that, pequeño.” No doubt something insulting further. You didn’t quite turn away in time, knowing he caught hint of a laugh as you gave him a yes sir. “Pero.” Your head tilted slightly to face back as you gave him a confused look. “My name. I know your name, you should know mine. Pero.”

You repeated it back to him, it felt warm on your tongue. A unique name, but he was a unique man. A stand out in the never ending sea of mediocre men passing through. So you started calling him by his first name, and Pero started getting amused looks from William whenever you did so. Whatever language he spoke to you in, it seemed to only get more derogatory towards the other man in response to such looks.

Strange as it was, you seemed to see him in your dreams more and more. Your mind seemingly creating these cast situations to put him in, sometimes William seemed to be there as well. You would wake up with images in your head of him across distant lands and foreign places you never knew even existed. Perhaps it was a product of Pero speaking to you more often.

William would talk to anyone, patrons, people passing by outside, even got along with the innkeeper as if there wasn’t a soul on earth he couldn’t find common ground with. Pero though, rarely interacted with anyone besides his companion, and now you.

Often through meals he would find reasons to beckon you over to him, persuading you to sit and tell him about you. Mentioning very little about his own past, Pero asked you about your parents, your childhood, what you did outside of the inn for fun, how far from this town you had ever been. Each question he wouldn’t give much input, but listened keenly, and prompted you to continue anytime you felt awkward by his silence. “You’re voice is much nicer to listen to than my own,” Was his excuse.

“Finally something we can agree on!” William boasted with a laugh as he joined the table. A glare always sent his way, sometimes a warning in tone. A long drawn out, “Amigo,” and William would laugh more but put his hands up surrendering. They bantered and argued, but clearly they meant a lot to the other.

William was also strangely tight lipped about his own story, and said very little about he business he and Pero originally travelled this way for. Even more strange, both men told you that cleaning their accommodations wouldn’t be necessary. In fact they seemed adamant that no one go into their rooms at all while they weren’t there.

You once asked Pero about it and he seemed to dodge the question, shaking his head with a far off look as he brought up old memories. “Protecting whats yours is the only priority that matters out there. It doesn’t matter how many men I’ve travelled all this way with, if you didn’t want it taken, it never left your hands.”

Hands pausing mid air as you were folding the dry washing, you looked trapped between sad and sour as you looked at him. “Pero, I would never-”

Broad upper body hovered over yours as he leaned into you, “I’m not accusing you of anything, hermosa. It’s the others I do not trust.” His dark eyes scanning the view behind your back, you wondered if he even realized his hand had found it’s way onto your upper arm just resting there comfortingly. He didn’t move it until you prompted him minutes later when broke the quiet spell over you both.

“If you’re going to just stand there, than you better help me, mister.” A playful pout on your face as you held a bunched up pile of sheets at him, and Pero grabbing it from you stubbornly with a roll of his eye and muttered curses in his native tongue.

They disappeared throughout the day, not that what they did was any of your concern, but it was odd. Hushed tones and protective of people getting to close to their belongings. More then once they returned with what appeared to be cuts or bruises that would be healed entirely the next day. Brushing off your questions with assertions that you were just seeing things, or a gentle mutter that it was nothing for you to worry yourself about.

You weren’t stupid though, whatever they were involved in clearly was dangerous to a degree. Weapons and armour weren’t carried by normal people, and they both moved in sync as if they had done many dances over a lifetime.

Some evenings, William would dazzle the crowd with tricks and spectacles of his precise aim. Pero at his side barley even having to watch as he assisted in setting something up for William to aim at, as if they had full trust the other just knew what they were doing. “Idiota.” Pero would mumble as he slinked over to you, uninterested in the ooos and awes of the other guests. “Everyday he acts more and more like a fool. Soon enough I’ll be dragging him home to Spain and leaving him to play minstrel to the kings.”

Eyes shining with curiosity, you leaned your side against the counter, tilting your head to get a better look at him. “Is that where you two are from? Spain?”

Pero’s smile was far away. A hand running down his ragged face before resting over his mouth in thought. “William is from Ireland, but sí. That is where I am from, and where we met.” Finally he waved his hand nonchalantly off. “Long time ago, doesn’t matter now we’ve been much further than that now.” He watched you eagerly put the glass you were cleaning down on the counter before turning back, your hands clasping in front of each other. Smiling he knocked the idea down, “Hermosa, I’ve told you they aren’t stories you would want to hear.”

You took a step forward, eyes shining with not quite disappointment, but your face sagged nonetheless.  “Pero, I was born in this town, I’ve never travelled outside of this town, and quite possibly I will die in this town. Nothing you could tell me would bore me.” Hesitating, you almost didn’t say it, but Pero watched you catch your tongue before you could cover it up.

His head tilted to the side, eyebrow raised. “And?”

With a sigh, you looked side to side, no real meaning attached except to avoid his intense gaze before finally lifting them up to look him proper. “And I just...I just like..talking to you. Getting to know you. There, I said it. Happy?”

You squirmed in place, flustered and somewhat embarrassed as he continued to watch you, a flash of play in his eyes. Luck was on your side as a cheer from the crowd caught both of your attention, followed by a smash of plates. Someone with a tad too much ale in their belly trying to copy a throwing trick of Williams with his own dinner. You looked back at Pero, lip nibbling slightly in hesitation before a tiny smile graced you as he nodded over for you to go.

Grabbing the broom he gently called your name, “Come to my room when you are done, later. If you would still like to talk.”

Trying to hold back your surprise, he never let someone not William in there or vise versa. You couldn’t help though but replace your surprise with a dumb little waggle of your eyebrows. Pointing at you as you walked close by him with the broom, he spoke with the tone of a scolding parent, “Don’t push me, hermosa. I guarantee I’m better at this game then you are.”

Breath hitched, you almost dashed away before you could give anything else away. It was hard to tell if this kind of talk was flirtatious, and if it were mostly a jest. Pero didn’t speak to many people here, you had nothing to gauge if he was simply like this with all women but he did look at you with a deep intensity that set the blood in your body alight.

Men didn’t often give you this kind of attention unless they were drunk and willing to forgive your plainness in favour of trying to seduce the only woman in the room. It never worked, for one the innkeeper would never let you live it down without you getting yelled at for it. Secondly, and most importantly, not that you really admitted it to yourself, but Pero was the only man who you found attractive in a very long time. That was enough on it’s own to let your mind wander across your thoughts and almost considered letting your fingers travel across your skin, in the dead of night.

That, and the very distinct wink Pero gave you from across the room as you were bent down on the ground as you cleaned the ceramic shards. It wasn’t until you were alone in the kitchen that you realized such an angle gave a sight right into your neckline at the tops of your chest. If being alone in his room with him wasn’t flustering before, it sure was now.

It was ridiculous. The pointless preening in the small mirror in your bedroom as if it would make a difference. Your dress and hair exactly as they were during the day, if he wasn’t impressed then he wouldn’t be just because you fussed over it for a few seconds. As you walked the empty hallway, nothing but the flicker of torches and the scratching of the innkeepers writing could be heard. As you reached the end where both men’s rooms sat, you paused. Debating if this were a bad idea.

Pero made you feel a certain way, but that way surely wasn’t to let him under your skirt for the night and act like it was nothing in the morning. He seemed genuine when asking you to join him, but the looks he gave you made you worry it was one thing he was after. You suppose there was only one way to find out.

Your fist had only just reached the wooden door when it was opened and an arm pulled you in before a noise could be made. A large rough hand covered your mouth as you let out a tiny yelp, as Pero pushed the door closed with his other hand and pulled it back to put a shushing finger against his mouth. Nodding, he released your mouth and spoke quietly. “My apologies, hermosa. I didn’t mean to scare you, I would just rather not have any attention drawn my way.”

For the time he was here, hardly any of the space was made his own. Some belongings such as his weapons sat neatly on surface tops ready to be grabbed at a moments notice, with only his amour hung up along with a small chest sat atop the messily made bed. The fireplace glowing the room, casting Pero in a beautiful orange that lit his skin up like the sun shining down on gold. The fire dancing in his eyes bringing the brown out more attractively then the bright blues on Williams that everyone seemed to adore. Pero’s deep brown eyes were much more addicting to fall into if anyone asked you.

There was an awkward silence as you stood at the door, hands fiddling with your fingers as he stood a few feet away from you, his hands on his hips. His own fingertips tapping away as he finds your eyes and looking away again. “We don’t-” His head snapping up to you almost violently. “I just, I can leave if you’re not comfortable with me...being here.”

Fire crackling helped cover the sound of your heartbeat, unsure as to why you felt so nervous. Pero seemed to share that sentiment, fidgeting as he spoke. “No, no it isn’t that. I’m just not sure,” his voice fading off as he finds himself unable to find the right words.

You filled them in for him as you took quiet steps into the room, “Not sure why you invited me here?” He didn’t say yes, but the understanding in his face was your answer. “Pero, I,” Taking in a deep breath. “I’m not asking you to tell me all your secrets. I just want to know you.”

“Why.” His voice was penetrating, more demanding and rough. Unmoving and unblinking he stared you down, watching you stammer.

Maybe you should just tell him the truth. You’re not sure lying or making up a polite answer would satisfy him the way it may his companion. “I don’t know. I just know that I do.”

His dark eyes stared into your own softer ones, finding a plea to just let you in a sliver. Allow you to explore this strange interest you’ve developed in this mysterious man. And he does. Pero nods, finally moving over to the bed where he sits on the edge beside the chest waving you over.

Almost like baby steps you slowly walk his way, eyes darting between the empty space on the other side of the chest and himself, the idea of sitting with a man on his bed giving you pause. Pero rolled his eyes, reaching out to the side and loudly scraping a chair along the floor to sit in front of him before waving a hand there with a bemused glint in his eye.

Pero isn’t much of a talker, and it takes him a few moments to gather the right words to start. “You asked me about my travels with William. About the strange places we’ve seen. We have travelled together for a long time, much longer then you could imagine, hermosa. There’s very little we have not seen of this world now. Strangest of them all was far east.”

Your entire body was hunched as you leaned your arms into your thighs, eyes wide open as you listened intently.

Pero’s hand begun lightly tracing the edges of the small chest, eyes following his path. “We found ourselves with a group looking for an unusual substance rumoured only to be known by the Chinese.” Your mouth slightly agape, you know he said East but that must have taken such a colossal amount of time to get to. “Only William and I even made it. I told you hermosa, people will want to kill you no matter how far away you go.”

Regardless of your look of worry and the anxious nibble you were giving your bottom lip he continued. “What we found was even worse though. Things that a girl like you should never see.” Your eyes narrowed at the insinuation but stayed quiet. “What we did find as well, was what they had created.”

Pero’s fingers tapped harshly on the chest before he shot up from his seat. Making his way to the door, ensuring it was indeed locked he gestured you to bring the chest over to the small table in the middle of the room.

Lighter then you assumed, you brought it over and quickly moved your hands back in front of your torso not wanting to disrupt his things. You watched intently as Pero slowly opened the box, and brought out a few meaningless objects, but the most curious of them, some black looking powder.

Delicately he sat everything out before stretching his hand out to you. Placing it lightly into his, Pero grabbed your hand tighter and pulled you right up into his side. Closer than you ever had been, he seemed so large up close. His frame broad and all encompassing of your vision if you looked up at him, his dark eyes never straining from his task. His nose almost enticed you to touch it yourself, if not gently with the length of your own, than perhaps your lips.

“This hermosa,” your head swivelled to look where his hands sat, unaware that he indeed had caught out staring with a look of almost innocent want flurrying in you. “This is just one of the things we found out east, and this is what we are here for.”

Unlike anything you’ve ever seen, the black powder sparked and then lit aflame all in a second, until it burned itself bright and burst into nothing once more. Like a burst of heat and sound all at once that would have had you jumping back were Pero’s arm not suddenly behind you keeping your lower back pressed forward. You leaned forward at the smoke left behind, eyes wide in wonder. The flash of loud explosions from your dreams briefly came to mind. “What- I don’t understand. Is this a weapon?”

His fingers traced through the remains of the strange explosion, “It can be, the soldiers we were with when we found it used it as such. Nowhere else in the world has seen anything like it.”

“Except you. That’s why you wanted to come through the port.” Head turning up to his, “You wanted to trade it with someone, that's why you both are willing to wait it out?”

Pero’s head turned to you in return. “Yes. We have a man willing to pay handsomely to get his hands on this, more than any other offer we could get. There’s not much coin to be made in my line of work, hermosa,” his fingers moved from the table, holding up a dark stain of dirt like substance on his hands. “But this just may give us enough to breathe for a little while.”

Pero declined your offer to clean it all up, instead doing it all himself after washing the powder from his fingertips, gently placing everything back into the chest before carrying it to a wooden panel in the wall, loosened enough to slide the chest in, and hide it behind the panel once more from view. Crouched down he looked at you very seriously, “You need to promise me you won’t say anything to anyone about this, sí?”

The gentle nod wasn’t enough. Pero moved in front of you, his body once again towering over you. You could only imagine what being on this end of his violence or anger would look like. Pero calling your name, as his fingers nudge the side of your cheek to look up at him. “Tell me you swear you will not tell a soul about what I’ve shown you.”

Taking a risk, you grasped the wrist close to your face, “Pero I swear to you, I won’t say a word. Whatever you tell me, it’s our secret. I promise.” The tips of his fingers had only just slid from your cheek when you stammered out what you were thinking. “Why me?”

Pero leaned into you, his broad frame looming over you in the tense quiet when you asked again. “Why tell me?”

Was it your heart that was pounding loud in your ears, or was it his? Louder and louder it got the closer he found his face near your own. Once again his fingers found a path upwards, but the brush against your cheek was passed as he wound them through your hair. Tugging you just slightly, enough to finally let you feel his nose brush yours. “I shouldn’t have. If I were a better man, I’d turn you away and scare you off with the kinds of things I have done. Let you live this nice, quiet life.”

Trembling slightly your palms press against his chest, his breath stuttering ever so slightly as you do so. “I’m drawn to you, and I don’t know why.” Sliding up to touch the skin of his neck, Pero swallows thickly as you keep talking. “All I know is I want you to trust me.”

Pero’s other hand pulls the curve of your waist into his body more, his nose tracing down yours, before nudging at your cheek while he continuously rakes his fingers through your hair. The breathe from his mouth is so close you feel every pass of air. Tilting your head ever so slightly, not pushing but wanting to give him all the space in the world to press his lips against yours.

Like the touch of a feather, you just feel his lips skim your own. Your hands both tighten around each other as he tempts you with his kiss, but just as soon as you felt the brush of his lips, he forces your head down to press them against your forehead.

Soft lips leaving a loving warmth against your skin before he pulls away from you entirely. His brown eyes soft but conflicted, his posture hunched and unsure. One of his hands finds it’s usual home on a hip while the other traces his own mouth now standing a good few feet away from you, eyes filled with conflict.

Fingers clenching before dropping down to your sides with an audible plat. Your face grows hot, shame floods your lungs for thinking he would actually want that with you, maybe you pressured him into it. Looking at him with your stupid sad eyes hoping for him to open up more than he’s already given you. The shame burned too hot in your body to handle. “I’m so sorry, Pero.”

Just before you turn the door handle to leave, he gently calls your name. “You shouldn’t want me.” Looking back, Pero’s eyes were wide, bright but full of a kind of regret you couldn’t decipher. A regret you think isn’t just about an almost kiss. “I’m a killer, cariño. I’ll always be a killer and that is a life you don’t deserve.”

Once again a new wave of embarrassment fills you. You can’t look at those eyes, those eyes so big and full of unimaginable thoughts. You turn and watch your hand ready to turn the handle instead. “What I deserve doesn’t stop how I feel, Pero. It never will stop that.”

And you left him standing conflicted in the middle of his room. Your head didn’t even raise from it’s penetrating gaze on the floor until you came into your own quarters, unaware of the prying eyes from the bright blue eyed companion leaning against his now open door frame.

Laying in bed, haunted by the silence of the night, you also remained unaware of the quiet talks many rooms down the hall. Of William whispering just loud enough that had someone leaned their ear against the door, his words might have been heard.

“I’ve seen it to, Tovar. You can stand there and insult me all you like, but I see them too. They’re not just your dreams, you’re not the only one who dreams about what we’ve done. What we’ve seen.” William invades Pero’s personal space with no care about his tense agitation. His finger pointed at him, “Deny it all you want, but no amount of pretending you don’t feel something for her will change the fact that seeing her in our dreams means something dangerous.”

Pero huffs, pushing Williams point to the side as he walks to the table once more. Downing the ever warming mug of ale left in it. Wiping his face with his hand as his jaw clenches. “I won’t subject her to our life. We were chosen for whatever godforsaken reason,” whipping around his teeth almost gritted like a hissing feline. “But she is not us. She is nothing like us and I refuse to drag her down that life. A life she couldn’t possibly even understand.” Williams eyes fall too soft, too understanding. Pero had to look away. “We’ve lived more of a life than anyone we’ve ever met. Whatever life is in store for her has no place in the likes of us. She deserves better.”

William’s voice was quiet, so quiet it almost couldn’t be heard over the crackle of the fire. “We didn’t deserve this life either, Tovar.”

Pero turned away. A palm pressed against the wall, looking at the wood willing the memories away. “Maybe so, amigo. But she is not like us. Almost no one is. I won’t drag her into something she can never be.”

Fire crackled against the silence between them. It was rare they spoke of it these days, in fact they hadn’t spoken of it since the wall. It wasn’t something either of them understood, and sometimes it was just too much to think about. William broke the silence first, “My contact says our man’s willing to wait it out. He’s apparently holed up just like us.”

Pero’s eyes slid shut as he spoke. “Can we trust him? This messenger of his?”

The sounds of William all but falling into the chair accompanied the sigh he let out. “Right now? We have too. If Ballard was right, he’s the only one who knows what we have.”

Pero pushed against the wall, muttering curses in his own language. Pulling a chair out angrily as he joined William at the table. “Trusting him was a mistake.” The air around him turned cocky as he rolls his eyes towards him, “Leaving you to play hero to those people wasn’t, but I should have just done it on my own terms.”

Both men chuckled. William pouring more drink for the both of them. “You really just left him out there? Surprised you didn’t just kill him, with your temper.” The ale slid too warm down Pero’s throat, but it was better then nothing.

“Trust me, whatever death he found alone in those barren lands, no horse, no water? It’s crueler than anything I could have done to esa rata.” Both men chuckled into their drinks once more. Whatever the future held for them, at least they both could agree that letting Ballard take no part in it was for the best. Whatever the mans plans had been, Pero and William wanted no part in it.

The pot begun to boil the next afternoon. Pero and William having left before the sun had fully woken up, leaving you to stew in your thoughts in needed quiet. There had been very little activity through the inn that morning. Far off in the distance the view of smoke had taken up the sky, and soon the burning stench of rot had followed.

Whatever was spreading through the populated towns was cursed enough to desecrate the corpses of those it took. Little people passing by the crossroads wanted to stick around in case the smell lingered. Multiple times you had laid herbs and burned smells into the tavern air, keeping the air inside smelling fresh at the very least, but most didn’t have the stomach for a drink or a meal after that rot.

So you were left mostly alone, behind the counter with a scrap of parchment scribbling down what drinks were getting low, what needed to be purchased and what needed to be brought up from the cellar. The feeling of Pero’s lips just barley brushing against yours haunted you, your waist still felt the tight grip from his large hands like he seared his touch into your memory forever.

You dreamt about him again. This time, a much clearer dream, many men on some field, the sounds of yelling and clashing metal, followed by silence and nothing but dead surrounding them. You had been startled awake right as your brain conjured the image of Pero and William simultaneously rising from the dead, the shock must have ripped you away from the terrifying image.

He had said he was a killer. Was this the nightmare you could only imagine falling upon men like them? You didn’t quite know, but both men were in your dreams now and it took much effort not to let your sleeping imagination bother you in the waking hours of the day.

Two men wandered in at some point, plain and unassuming, likely just here for a drink. “What can I do for you gentleman?”

One of them was pacing slowly, a tall man looking around the tavern and the few people inside. The other walked up to the counter, “How many people you got saying here?”

Your head tilted in a slight confusion at first, not the usual way somebody approached asking for a room. “We have enough available rooms for you gentleman if you're looking for a place to sleep.” Just as you spoke, the tall man grabbed one of the people sitting alone with their drink by the back of their head, and slammed it down with a crash onto the table below. The weight of the slam so harsh, he lay unmoving.

Jumping back in place, you looked at the one in front of you with nothing but fear. “You got two men staying here, one Irish bloke and one dark skinned fella. Right, girl?”

Swallowing so hard you could hear the sound of it, your eyes flickering between the one staring into your soul, and the other standing casually with an arm resting atop of the chair of the unconscious man. Fervently you shook your head no.

The man in front of you didn’t blink once. “Where they at right now?” You could see the other in the background once again strolling through the tavern, the only other patron sitting in a corner as still and silent as you. You said nothing, you physically couldn’t.

You could still see the man on the table, unable to see clearly enough if it were blood starting to pool or just the spilt drink collecting around him. The other man now stood beside the only other patron, not a care in his entire stance at the fear of the person leaning as far back into their chair as possible. The one in front of you moved his head awkwardly to the side to slide into your field of view, snapping your attention back.

“Listen girl, those two got something that they shouldn’t. Something valuable.” The flash of fire and the banging sound passed quickly through your mind. The powder. “Just tell us where they’re at, and we’ll have no problem.”

You still couldn’t speak. Any faint memory of your mother telling you to run if you were in trouble failed you, you were frozen as if doused with ice. You didn’t even know where they were, but you knew where what they were looking for was being hidden, and if you spoke your fear might spill the secret Pero trusted you with. They weren’t satisfied with that silence though.

The tall man jumped the person at the table, wrapping his long arms around his head and neck as the others arms flailed uselessly in the air. Gurgling for air you could see him going limp before the one in front of you leaned in real close. His breath stinking the air must like the smoke outside, but this time filled with the wreak of food and dirt. “We don’t want to hurt a little girl like you,”

Suddenly he also reached forward, one hand grabbing at your hair as the other brandished a knife up against the side of your face. “But I will if you don’t give us what we want. We know they got it, just give it up and we’ll let you walk away without uglying up your face more then it already is.”

The tall man coming to his side, his voice spoke with a more elegance, an accent and tone much more like a rich man then the common folk in front of you directly. “We could make things much worse for you. Just cooperate and we won’t have to hurt you. You have no idea the kinds of people searching for what these two are hiding.”

Yanking your hair back as the knife pressed harder into your face, it threatened to break the skin as he spat into you. “Last chance before I cut into your ugly-” Blood spat into your face as hands fell from you and his face went shocked. You gasped and jumped back pressing against the wall of drinks as an arrow stuck from one side of his head to the other. He fell over with an unceremonious splat, as the other man looked at the direction it came from.

Another arrow flew out with such force it pinned the tall man against the surface behind him. The men they seeked flying into view, William with a bow in his hand now lowered down came to stand near you as Pero wasted no time slicing into the mans skin, causing gross yells as blood begun to seap from the wound. You could just barley hear him speak in his native tongue hissing and snarling words as William stepped across the floor beckoning you with a jerk of his head to come out from there.

His bow now back in it’s holding place, he held a hand out to direct you away from the body on the ground. “Did they hurt you at all?” Still unable to speak all you did was shake your head, looking past him at Pero quietly speaking with red hot anger at the man in the language apparently both understood. William put comforting hands on both your shoulders, body bent slightly to look into your eyes at your level, quietly saying your name. “I need you to do something for us.”

Your eyes tore from Pero at the instance the arrow was pulled from the mans body and a yell of pain filled the air. William unphased by the display behind him. “We will handle this ourselves, but I need you to promise me you will not tell anyone whats happened.”

Glancing to the unconscious men pair at their respective tables, “W-what about,”

Pero approached, throwing the man against the counter for William to turn and grab. Pero took just two steps to come in front of you and cupped both sides of your face with his hands. His teeth gritted in anger as he pulled you to see your face more clearly as he searched for any sign of injury.

William begun to direct the man out the back way as Pero leaned his forehead against yours. “We will take care of it, but you need to promise me. These are not good men, I do not want them looking for you too.” One hand moved to cup the back of your head, “Promise me, cariño.”

You nodded, eyes shut at the soothing sensation of his skin against you. “Not a word, I promise.”

Pero breathed deeply before pulling the back of your head into him to press a harsh kiss against the top of your head. “Go up to your room until we are done here. We will have this mess out by the time anyone else comes inside.” Pulling away he looks into your eyes, something otherworldly flashing in their brown depths. A ferocity you had never seen. “You’re okay, cielto. I will always make sure of that.”

By the time you had come down from your room, the innkeeper approached you grumbling about having to pick up the slack, saying something about being told you felt ill and needed to lay down. Not much sympathy though, since he once again just shoved you into the tavern to begin the night service.

Everything was as it was. No blood, no bodies, no nefarious men with vague threats. Just regular people yelling and laughing into their drinks, and people looking to be fed. Neither Pero or William anywhere to be seen, but knowing they had left with the tall man alive, maybe you didn’t want to know where they were.

You trusted Pero completely, even putting that trust more and more into William as well, but you also knew violence was not something you could stomach, not now at least. So you pushed it down, and got to work. Serving greedy bellies late into the night before you could finally seek asylum in your room and put the day behind you.

Cupping water from the small basin on a dresser, you drenched it gently onto your face. A wish for the water to drip off of your face along with this ever growing pit in your stomach. Dressed only in your shift, you allowed the coolness of the night air to flow into your room and caress your skin.

The cold, the smoothness of the water on your face, you slipped your eyes shut as your chest rose and fell with every deep breathe. Palms outstretched on either side of the basic with your legs stretched back you, you gave no regard for whatever sounds flowed around outside. The silence of your heartbeat and your breathing was the only thing you allowed yourself to focus on. So much so, it wasn’t until the jarring jolt of your door opening and slamming shut that brought anyone approaching your room to your attention.

Hand jumping to your heart, you had jumped back with a loud gasp as Pero stood braced against the door. Palms pressed into the wood as his dark eyes flashed deep with an unspoken desire roaming the exposed figure. As his eyes found your face, he quickly changed his stance. Holding an arm out as if to calm a spooked animal, muttering your name to gauge your reaction.

All it took was seeing you move one step towards him for Pero to close the gap. Grasping at your face with one hand and the other grasping the skin just below your chest holding you still. Roaming your face he properly looks at you watching him with concern. “You’re sure you are okay? They didn’t harm you, no?”

Head shaking no, your hands pressed against his chest like before. “I-” You had to look down as you took a deep breathe, unable to see Pero just barley pulling his eyes away from greedily watching your chest heave under the thin material. Looking at him once more, you pressed a palm gently against his cheek, the coarse scruff under scratching in a strangely soothing manner. “You don’t need to tell me, I just need to know you are not in danger.” When he didn’t answer you pressed further. “Tell me you are not in danger, Pero.”

His thumb rubbed your jaw back and forth, grip loosening on your waist but refusing to pull away. “I can’t involve you in this, hermosa.” Feeling you moving back he yanked you closer. “No, I cannot put any of this on you. The less you know, the less they can hurt you. These are men working for a cruel man, and I know exactly what they would do to you to get you to talk.”

Your fingers grasped at whatever material they could hold on his shirt, lips pursing as you thought. “And how do you know that?”

Pero’s eyes were bright, but full of a sadness. “Beacuse I know what I would do to you if I were them. I am not a good man, hermosa. I’m not in danger, I am only putting you in danger by being close to you.”

This time, it was you who pressed your forehead against his. Both of you leaning into each other, eyes closed as you felt the others breath grace the skin of your face. “What if it’s a risk I’m willing to take?”

If there was sadness in Pero’s eyes before, now it has morphed into pleading. The grip on your face rougher, his head ever so tilted as he finds your confidence. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

Your smile didn’t meet his eyes, but you know somewhere deep inside he felt it all the same. “You’re not asking. I’m telling you. You’ve already opened the door Pero, just let me in.” The faint muttering of words you didn’t understand left his mouth. His plead bled to frustration, perhaps even anger, and Pero only had one response to such anger. To act.

Pero pulled you in as he closed the gap between your lips. His lips were harsh and unforgiving, controlling your every movement as he kissed you. The first bite against your lip had you gasping, allowing Pero to taste you with his tongue.

Never in your life had you been kissed this way. The softness of his lips moulding against yours, pulling whimpers from you and needy groans from deep in his own chest, they were nothing like the soft kind pecks that the church had ever told you was appropriate. Pero didn’t kiss you like a man of God, he kissed you like he were drowning and his only rescue was found in your lips.

Greedy hands moved down your body, one holding your waist as he pulled you into his body more, the other grasping tightly at your ass. Something between a whine and a gasp left your mouth, enough to pull your lips away. Almost a snarl had left Pero as his grip on your ass tightened to a bruise as he reconnected your lips together.

His tongue explored inside your mouth with no shame, tasting and touching as if wanting to reach down your throat as his other hand cupped your breast. Jumping at the sudden contact your hands gripped his hips, the skin just below his shirt rising enough for your fingers to slip under and touch his skin. The hand on your ass moved to grip your shift in his fist, yanking himself away from your lips, watching the string of spit still attached to both of you, he leaned in just to give your bottom lip another bite. Pressing your palms against his stomach, Pero now held your shift in both hands.

His eyes shut for just a second as he heaved catching his breathe. Pulling the material just enough to get your attention, “If you don’t want this hermosa, then kick me out now before I go any further.”

For the brief seconds it took to find an answer, in your head it was as if a lifetime had passed. How had this man walked into your life and felt like he now consumed every bit of meaning you found in it? A childhood spent inside the walls called the house of god told you that this would deem you unworthy in the lords eyes. But the deepness in Pero’s? The brown sea that bore into your own, needing, wanting, desperate? The hellfire would be worth it, would be worth your time with this man.

You slid your palms up his stomach, slightly bringing the material with you. Before you could reach further, Pero yanked your shift up and off of you in an instant, tossing it with no care.

Bare for him to see, Pero raked his eyes any and everywhere he could see. A smile, a real genuine smile graced his handsome face as he looked at your softness. “Una criatura tan hermosa, realmente no soy digna,” Mutterings to himself you couldn’t understand, Pero ripped his own shirt off.

Giving you no time to look upon him as he did your body, Pero wrapped his arms around you as he kissed you again. His hands taking harsh gropes of the plush skin you graced him with. His mouth capturing yours like a man possessed, he begun to move you towards the bed. Him grasping at your ass while he did so. Finally pulling just away enough to look at you, your eyes shut still before you blinked away the haze. “Lay back for me.”

Nodding with little hesitation, you likely would do anything he asked at this point. The soft blanket beneath you as you watched Pero rid himself of the rest of his clothes. His broad frame no less intimidating undressed, but it was his cock that took the lead.

No frame of reference, you could not tell if it were big, but it certainly was not small, nor was it thin. Pero’s large hand just barley wound it’s way around the thickness of his cock right at the base, coarse hair covering the skin around him and just hiding his balls, thick and full hanging behind. Each step he took, his grip did little to hide the bounce such a size gave.

You know he told you to lay down, but you yearned to see more. Sliding to the edge of the bed, legs dangling at the floor, Pero came upon you, his cock so close for you to touch. His chest heaved as his teeth gritted at the sight of you. Gently you touched the skin of his thighs, low enough to simply pull his eyes to you. “Guide me, Pero. Show me what to do, how to make you feel good.”

Pero’s free hand ran through your hair, gentle whispering “I should be the one making you feel good, hermosa.” Nonetheless, his resolve was too weak. Moving just up enough he also pulled your head gently closer. The hand on his cock reached just low enough to pull one of yours up, using your fingertips to trace his length, then cupping you around him as much as your small hand could hold.

You leaned in, but stopped just before his tip, looking up at him all you found was a desperate man but one that still smiled. “Start with a kiss, just like before.” Grip in your hair readjusting for a better handle, he let you go your own pace.

Breathe hitching as you kissed his tip, then kissing down his length as your fingers did. Light strokes of your fingers joined the other side as you kissed him up and down and back to his leaking tip. Precum smearing over your lips making you brave, your kiss turning sloppy, messy as you kissed the tip of his cock then taking that wetness back down with your lips and tiny licks of your tongue.

The smear of your saliva and his own cum gave such a slick sound as you lightly stroked him. One again kissing his tip, licking him as you did so, whimpers unlike such a rough man left his mouth. Chancing a glace, you looked up to him. Eyes wild as one hand raked down his face, a sneer as he looked down seeing the tip of his cock just pressed up against your lips, staining white with his precum. It was enough to try.

Taking him into your mouth felt different then you thought it would. He was so hard, but the skin was unlike that on the rest of the body, almost like a rich velvet, but it filled as much as you could try. You shut your eyes hearing Pero groan your name and grip your hair tight.

Your tongue tasting as you went, trying to cover with your hand what your little mouth couldn’t, your other palm resting gently at the junction of his thigh. Pero’s fingers tipped your full mouth up to look at him once more, “Remember to breathe, hermosa.” You nodded as you slid back some, “Good.” His tone was rough, deep and almost with a husk as they turned to moans. He let go of your chin and nodded to continue. “Now suck.”

You don’t know how long you were there, sitting on the bed’s edge, licking and sucking at his cock, your slick mouth taking his cock in and out. Pero resisted thrusting, you could barley fit a third of his length, now was not the time to take more. He was so close though, he could feel it in his balls, he wanted to cum so badly. “So good, such a good girl.” Yanking your hair as he held it painfully harsh as his breathing heaved the closer is orgasm got. “Hot little mouth was born to suck me, weren’t you?”

Your own moan vibrating against his cock forced a hiss out of him. Part of you wanted to each out, touch his balls hanging just below the course hair you felt below your fingers. But would he like that? Now was not the time, not when sucking his cock felt too good to distract yourself from. He was hot and throbbed in your mouth as instead your palm slid against his hips, and grasped the cheek of his ass ever so slightly.

“Merida,” another hiss, “Going to make me cum, hermosa? Where do you want it?” His hands both gripped your head now, not forcing, but moving along with you as you bobbed up and down his soaked cock. “Maybe on these magnificent tits? Or down your needy throat?” You moaned against him again, “That what you want? For me to paint your throat with my seed?”

You couldn’t answer, but you moaned and nodded just slightly. It was all it took, Pero moaned out your name as he came in your mouth. Filling you with his warm seed both hands of yours gripped his hips to keep you steady. Barley moving your head as you took him all in, swallowing what he gave you with little care of how desperate it looked.

As you milked him for all he could give you, he slid out of your mouth as you gasped heavily, chest heaving as you did so. Pero’s cock was positively soaked, your spit and his cum still covering it completely.

Barley catching your breathe, Pero lunged down to kiss you, flipping so he could yank you onto the bed, your body pressed against his as he kissed you. Your thighs framed his hips as his half hard cock slid between your legs, soaked on their own with your own need.

For a while he simply held you against him, hands roaming your body as his lips and tongue moved with yours, the smack of your lips and moans the only sound in the room. Years could have passed and you wouldn’t have noticed. All you could feel was his hands, his lips, and his hardening cock between you.

Breaking the silence, Pero pulled your lips up off him, his nose rubbing against yours. “Would you let me fuck you, cariño? Fill you up with my cock?” You nodded, expecting him to simply slide you onto him, but he didn’t. Pero, ever the man doing the unexpected, flipped your bodies over so you lay against the bedspread.

He kissed down your chest, stopping to bite and suck at your nipples, drawing gasps from your mouth before he trailed down more. “I- I thought you were, going to fuck me?” Looking down you met a mischievous look.

Pero spreading your legs as his head lowered to your soaked core, “Oh I will, but first, I want a taste.”  You stammered out, not quite understanding, but Pero smirked. “A taste hermosa, I’m a hungry man as you know.” Lowering his mouth to you clit, the spark of pleasure slammed your head back against the pillow with a whine. He licked and sucked against the tiny nub as two thick fingers traced up and down your soaked entrance.

You whined out his name, arms coming up above your head to grip at nothing. Pero shifted, giving one long lick up the length of your cunt before sloppily sucking at your clit as his fingers pushed into your tight walls. Your hips jumped as you gasped almost a shriek.

Pero chuckled against your cunt as his free hand soothingly stroked the skin of your stomach, pumping his fingers slowly in and out. The wetness filling the air as your slick mixed with his own spit as he too his time taking you apart.

Finding the perfect spot inside you, your body writhed in a burning hot pleasure, one that coiled through your veins as you moaned. His two thick fingers stroking against that wall as his mouth worked your clit, unintelligible mumbling spoken into you as he did so.

The hand on your stomach slid down, pressing against your pelvis, just above your pussy as his fingers picked up their speed. Your body tensed up as the fire inside you built up quickly. You begged his name, not knowing what you wanted. Him to stop or to never stop you couldn’t even think. His name and the burning core inside wanting to burst your only thoughts.

Right as his fingers stroked hard against your walls, Pero pressed down on your pelvis and you fell apart. Your orgasm striking every nerve in your body as you arched up into him, moaning and gasping his name.

Little reprieve was waiting for you as Pero started to kiss the exact path he made coming down, only in reverse. A gentle smile found you as he pressed a much softer kiss against you. Now your own hands roamed the skin of his own body as you panted into his mouth. “Please Pero..”

Pushing himself up onto his hands, Pero looked down at your adoring gaze, his own matching. “I’m not sure I could deny you anything, looking at me like that.” He pressed a harsh kiss to you once more before he shifted you both.

Pero kneeling back as he pulled your legs on either side of him, stroking the tip of his cock against your folds. Tiny whines left you as he prodded just his tip inside out, in and out as he grinned at your needy sounds. Finally, he laid back down over you, one hand holding the base of his cock, the other wrapping around your back and pulling you up into him.

Words sat at the tip of his tongue, but he pushed it down. Kissing you instead as he pushed inside you.

You gasped out as it morphed into a moan in the same breathe. His cock never stopping, but slowly sliding in and sliding back out as he let you get used to the feeling. Your face desperate and whimpering his name, Pero slid his tongue into your mouth once more as his now free hand grasped yours. Pushing it up over your head as he thread your fingers together.

Sliding slow as he kissed you, you pulled back from his lips and nodded. “Please, I can take it.” An eyebrow raised teasingly, “Please fuck me, Pero. I need it.” That teasing smirk graced him once more as he begun to thrust into you.

Whatever burning need his mouth had given you, this was imminently different. His cock pounded into you harder and harder with every thrust, grunts leaving his mouth as Pero made a home in your neck. Kissing and biting into the sensitive skin, his scruff leaving a red sting as it trailed behind.

One hand of yours reached up to grasp his hair, rake through it as he did yours. You wanted to watch, see his large body fuck you with such pounding need, but you couldn’t. Head thrown back and eyes sealed shut unable to handle such a sight.

Pero’s cock slid against your walls, soaked beyond belief, soaked beyond any need he had ever gotten from a partner before. He thrusted into you faster, growling into your neck as the obscene slap of his skin against yours echoed in the room.

Each pound of his cock into your cunt you felt his balls slap against you, pulling another moan of his name out, nudging your nose against him to pull his lips onto yours. The arm around you snaked to your front, rubbing into your clit, as the sound of slapping skin increased. He murmured in his own language, fingers threaded together as his knuckled strained from the pressure, mouth sloppy against yours as he licked into you.

His fingertips rubbed your clit and he had to push harder into you, the walls of your cunt clenching tight around his fat cock as he pounded harder. His fingers sliding to rub the heel of his palm against you as you burst. Your cunt hugged his cock so warm and so tight, your gasps of pleasure screamed in his ears and it was enough for him.

Grabbing your hip Pero pushed into you roughly before pressing his tip as deep as possible, holding it inside you as he came. You could feel his hot cum soaking inside of you, his face slack jawed and forehead pressed into yours. Your bodies grinded slowly against each other as you milked every drop of his cum into you.

He never slid out. Pero simply released your hand and kissed you once more. Eventually, as you both steadied your breathing, Pero turned you both onto your sides, your arms and legs entangled as he refused to leave the warmth of your cunt.

Small kisses against your nose making you give a breathy giggle. You traced his cheek with your palm, his deep eyes now calm, satiated, pouring not need or want into yours, just brightness. Pero gripped your hand on his face, pulling it over to kiss the back of it and holding it against his heart. “Promise me, cariño. If anything happens, you do not say a word. This is not your fight, and I won’t let them hurt you just to get through to me.”

You wouldn’t fight this time. You nodded, wrapping your arm back around his waist as you kissed him once more before snuggling into his warm chest. Pero wrapped protectively around your own frame he kissed the top of your head.

Fading into the night, you felt his hands caress your skin, and his deep warm voice speaking nothings into the top of your head. Just the word “amor” loud enough to make out before sleep overtook you. Sleep didn’t find Pero as easily.

He knew he should tell you the truth, he knew there was so much more to this, more complicated then you could possibly imagine. The black powder was why they were here, that wasn’t a lie, but why they were being hunted wasn’t because of that. How could he or William explain that to you? It wouldn’t matter if he did. You weren’t like him. Weren’t like either of them and deep down he knew he couldn’t change that, so why should he burden you with that knowledge?

The morning sun came earlier than he wished. He wanted to stay in this little world, your arms around each other in your warm bed. Imagining a life where if he were a better man, he could whisk you away, find some small little home in the mountains and grow old with you.

That was a dangerous fantasy, but one Pero decided to hold onto for just a little bit longer. Watching your eyes flutter open, before grumbling at the brightness and snuggling further into his chest, Pero decided he couldn’t give this up, not really.

His chuckles drew your eyes open once more, a playful glare sent his way as he pulls you to sit upright. “As much as I’d love to keep you naked between the sheets with me all morning, we both have things to do, hermosa.”

You looked away bashfully as Pero stood from the bed, uncaring of his cock on display as he walked around the room to dress. You on the other hand worked slower, keeping you covered as much as possible while you slipped on any coverings. As you stood in front of your small mirror, doing up the front of your dress, Pero slipped his arms around your middle and yanked you back into him, laughing at the ‘oof’ that came out of your mouth.

“Are you always this handsy with the women bring into your bed so early in the morning?” If someone were to ask, you couldn’t be sure why you felt a churn in your gut at the image of Pero doing what you two did with another. You aren’t stupid, he’s a man. A handsome, well travelled man, you could only imagine the people who throw themselves at him.

Scruff from his beard rubbed against the skin on your neck as he found a home nuzzled in there with his lips. “I usually have no interest in staying until morning.” You knew he felt you tense up, his lips stopped their path as soon as he said it. What did you truly mean to each other? Was this strange pull to this man all in your head? Were you just a passing fancy as he was trapped waiting for the port to open once more? That didn’t feel good. The worry that you had made this magnetic pull towards one another all up, just beacuse a handsome mysterious man gave you the time of day.

Your eyes met his in the reflection, and you stammered. “I didn’t assume, I mean- I understand if I’m not what you want- you didn’t need to stay is what I’m trying to say.” That was well put.

Pero’s eyes narrowed and spun you around, his hands on your upper arms as he made you look him in the eye. “You didn’t make me do anything, hermosa. Get that thought out of your head.”

You swallowed hard as you hoped your face looked nonchalant. “No, that’s not what I meant. I just-”

Pero’s brows furrowed more, not anger in his eyes, more like a frustration you weren’t certain was aimed at you. “You just meant if I was to throw you to the side now, you would say you were okay with that, no?” The slight tremble of your lip has Pero pulling your chin up with his fingers just slightly. “But you aren’t okay with that are you, cariño.”

It wasn’t a question. As his fingers slid up to cup the side of your face, you hand followed to cover his. “I’d respect whatever you’d want, but no. No I wouldn’t really be okay with that.” His eyes softened, a look that was likely not on him often. “I don’t quite know why I feel so..so strongly about you but I do. I have a lot of feelings about you, Pero and I think the last thing I want to do is to give them up.”

Pero didn’t respond right away. Instead you just watched his soft eyes, was it sadness or warmth you weren’t sure. But the kiss he leaned in for was chaste, sweet and emotional. Not a man of words, but whatever this was between you, you spoke that language perfectly.

You helped get him ready to head out for the day, securing his weapons in place as you dodged his cheeky attempts to grab you. Smoothing out the material covering his chest, Pero held both of your wrists. That serious firm look overpowered by the warmth of his eyes stared into you as he brought both hands up to kiss the back of both, before leaning into give you one last proper kiss. “Remember what I said, hermosa. You keep yourself safe. I can handle men like yesterday, but if they come to you again, you don’t know me. That’s all you say.”

Sighing, you nodded at him. “As long as you promise to come back to me in one piece.”

Pero let your hands go, bringing your head to his and kissing the top of it. “Always, hermosa.” Watching him step out the door, he didn’t even make it out before he was faced with a very amused looking William, already waiting outside against the hallway wall.

“What? You think you were actually quiet last night? Lucky I didn’t make a noise complaint.” While your eyes widened, looking away in embarrassment, Pero simply grunted at him with a roll of his eyes. Shoving him towards the stairwell as William yelled out to you laughing, “Good morning to you too!” Their voices fading as Pero hurled insults at the man going down the stairs.

The Lord mustn’t have been that upset with you, at least the common room downstairs was all but empty save for a few elder men hard of hearing. Your morning and early afternoon were normal, quiet. Giving you seemingly all the time in the world to replay the events of last night, how his hands felt on your skin, how demanding his lips were, how heavy his cock was on your tongue.

The innkeeper yelled at you only once for having your head in the clouds, but no one else noticed or said anything. Apparently only William was the one with good hearing.

By the time anyone had even come in, the most excitement was a one of the regulars dropping almost a full bottle onto the ground before you pushed him off to sit at a far away table. Currently you were kneeling on the ground with a bucket and rag cleaning up the mess when the door opened. Looking up from the floor you saw three men filling the door frame. “Afternoon Gentleman. Take a seat I’ll be with you in just a moment.”

They all walked in, slow heavy steps echoing in the room. The two by each side stopped just behind the man in the middle. He on the other hand walked right into your view, large stomping boots starling you as you trailed up the length of him to meet less than friendly eyes. “I think we’re okay right here actually.”

The three men staring at you with an almost smug smile on each of their faces made you pause. Slowly you stood up, leaving everything on the floor. Two of them wandering around each side of you, keeping distance but not saying a word. The third pulling a crumpled parchment out of his pocket and putting it in your hands. “Now tell me sweetheart, where are these two?”

Pero and William stood not far from the inn, the small stream beside them washing the dirt from their hands. Little had been spoken between them for over an hour, a small comment from William, a joke really, about how grumpy Pero would get after they leave for good.

It itched at his brain. Knowing one way or the other, at some point you wouldn’t be with him anymore, but coming from his own companion made it sting that much more. He had no idea how he felt, what he was feeling.

There was a tiny speck of light in his life finally, and that light was you. He only just got you and after a days ride of craving being back in your bed with you, he didn’t need the reminder of what they were running from.

His voice irritated Pero more, “You know being mad at me doesn’t make me wrong.”

Nothing but a glare was sent his way, Pero standing finally and shaking the excess water from his hands.  “I’m not doing this with you, amigo. Not today.” He tried to focus on your face, the sweet sound of your voice and how soft your touch was against him. Tried to think instead about just how he would take you apart next, addicted to the breathy whines you gifted him when he bites at your lips.

“When then?” William walked over to him, uncaring of his mood. “When are we going to talk about it? When we’re half way across the country from her? Or are we going to wait until you finally realize you can’t just stay here and live out your lives together?” Pero desperately ignored him, but William stepped closer and his voice got louder. “I get it, it’s the last thing you want to think about but you have to, Tovar. I know how this feels-”

Pero’s blood boiled, whipping around and getting in his face, teeth gritting as he points at his chest. “You know nothing of how I feel. You know no matter how long you’re gone, she will be there when you get back. You have no idea how I feel.”

Rage radiated from his very being, while William had the decency to sigh, looking down in sympathy. They both know Pero’s loss will be drastically different then Williams. William had reassurance what to come back to. Pero had none, he had this time with you and they both know Pero does not feel love like this easily, or ever in how long they’ve travelled together. His voice was small, but honest. “You’re right. I...I don’t know how it feels.”

Pero's hand fell to his side, fists clenching and unclenching as he tempered the rage. “She is all I have, and this is all I have with her.”

“The dreams though-” Pero didn’t want to hear it.

“The dreams mean nothing, amigo. They never have. Just memories mixed with a made up future, and none of them have ever shown her with me. They never brought me to her, maybe something else did maybe fate meant me to find some kind of love with her, I don’t know. But reminding me of the inevitable isn’t fair.” His voice was quiet at that point, head lost in thoughts of you, wondering if meeting you was by coincidence or if he was destined to fall in love with you, as some kind of cruel joke on him.

For a long time they never spoke of this thing between them, it hardly mattered for a long time. Until China that is, and now it seems everything leads back to that one thing. He didn’t want to think about it now. He just wanted to feel your embrace, let him be at peace for just a while longer.

Your hands shook just as your head shook. “I’m not sure what this is about. Is this- are they wanted men?” If they were stupid, maybe they may have missed the waver in your voice, but by the smug smirk on the mans face and the chuckle that followed, clearly they weren’t.

He pulled the paper from your hands, looking at it in a pretending deep thought. “Good looking fellas, would be hard to miss wouldn’t they boys?” Agreements came from men now closing in on both sides of you as he folded it back up. “Now miss, I want you to be real careful about lying to me. I know they’ve been here. So why don’t you just talk to me like a civilized girl.”

You swore your body was starting to shake as well, whatever confidence you forced into your voice hardly covering up the trembles. “I don’t know who you’re talking about, now I suggest you either buy something or leave. I don’t want any trouble.”

The two remained at their position a number of feet away from you, but the third took another step forward. Watching your fists clenching in anxiety with a cocky grin. “No trouble, save for the guys from the other day that came looking for the same thing.” He took another step. “The ones your friends here killed just to protect you right?”

You felt a shiver crawling down your spine, edging it’s way into the nerves in your body at every angle. Your eyes were wide, flashing fear with little bravery left. You shook your head again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, okay? Even if I know who they were, they clearly aren’t here anyways.” You gestured out to the room with little population.

Pero told you not to give them what they want, told you what they would do to you if they found out how much you knew them. The man in front of you was far scarier then the ones from the other day, this one looked at you like nothing you said would matter.

His voice was even more terrifying. “Stubborn. Must be the Spaniard's girl, right?” He chuckled at your shocked expression. “Definitely. Soft looking, stubborn resolve, probably easy to seduce too.” He looked to his boys with a laugh, “William’s the one who likes a challenge, found that one out the hard way didn’t we?”

As another step was taken, the personal space between you closing in, you felt cold. You just wanted them to leave, go away and wait for Pero to come back and hide forever in his warm arms. This grumpy man who came into your life and stole away your heart, you tried to think of nothing but him as this one spoke back to you.

“Look, girl. I’ve had a long ride getting here. How about you just make this easy and tell me what you know, and we can get our of your way. The more you tell me, the faster I’ll leave.”

Giving him up, either of them up wasn’t going to happen. The harsh and desperate way he held you last night, Pero didn’t give away his love easily, and what kind of monster would you be if you just threw that away now? You wouldn’t. “Get out.”

His eyebrows raised, “You sure? Not even a little yes or no?”

Your voice found grounding. Firm and steady, the shaking still there, but your voice found it’s confidence. “You get nothing. Get out.”

There was a minute of silence. You watched him and he watched you. If he thought you would just willingly give up the only man ever to truly show you real love, then he really was stupid afterall. Finally, his body relaxed. Slouching more casually as he shrugged, “Well boys, we tried.” He looked seemingly nonchalantly between them both, and tilted his head with a sigh.

Then they moved. Both men jumping you from the sides and grabbing your arms, yanking them behind you so harshly they burned in pain from the force. They were gripped tight too, giving you little room to move. Chuckling as he now stood in front of you, the man shot his hand up suddenly and gripped your neckline close to your jaw, a knife sliding up into your vision as he stared at you without a hint of emotion.

“Now, see were it just my two compatriots here, they’d just let you go. They’re a little more sympathetic you see, suckers for a good love story. Me though? I was sent by the big man himself, so you can imagine I’m a little less caring.”

You didn’t know what he was talking about, this kind of violence for some kind of explosive powder seemed excessive, too aggressive. You just wanted Pero. He’s all you thought about as the knife was dragged lightly over the skin of your cheek, the flat side tapping at the skin under your eye. “Could give you a matching one. Lovers who bear the same scars and all.” Then slowly, he dragged the knifes tip back down and just barley touched the skin of your neck. “But, like I said. I’m a lot less forgiving then the others.”

He watched you swallow deeply and smiled. Your fear desperately holding onto the memory of Pero’s touch, his lips, those soft brown eyes you could find stars in. But this man wanted to carve through that.

He stood watching you cling to thoughts of your lover as he lightly teased the skin of your neck with his knife.

Horses safely secured in an inconspicuous hiding spot, Pero and William begun making their way back to the inn. William, naturally, being the one to interrupt the silence. “You’re sure it’s buried enough no one will find it?”

Pero rolled his eyes impatiently over to him, “I can dig a fucking hole in the ground.” William laughed raising his hands in the air. After the other day, everything hidden in their respective rooms needed to be moved, a safe place no one would find either items.

Getting close to the inn, Pero noticed a smell in the air. Hand flying out to stop William in his tracks, he lifted his head to sniff. “What does that smell like to you?”

Recognizing it himself, William barley got out “Smoke,” before both men took off running. Barley visibly through the trees, he could see the inn, not engulfed in flames, but somewhere inside was undoubtedly burning, and wherever it was, it was spreading.

Breaking the tree line though, it wasn’t the smoke encasing the air on the second floor that Pero could see. It was near the door, a trail of blood smeared into the ground along with marks in the dirt like clawing hands.

The trail didn’t go far, it bled into a small clearing in front of the road pooling around you, crawling your way seemingly to nowhere. Pero’s heart lurched so hard in his chest it was genuinely painful, he yelled your name as he sprinted over to you, William pulling up the slack to see if the perpetrators were still nearby.

Knees falling to the ground, Pero carefully picked you up muttering your name, as he turned you into his arms, everything in his body sliced at him in agony. You were utterly covered in blood, skin fading in colour as the blood dripped more and more from a slice into your neck. A gruesome slash leaving you bleeding out and rasping for any air or words you could.

Pero reached for the side of your face, “No, no, no no, you cannot do this to me,” Your eyes were glossy and far away, but they seeked his. Your hand just barley making it high enough to touch the one on your cheek. “Please it’s not your time,” His hand raked through your hair as he leaned into your face. “I just found you, mi amor you can’t go yet.”

Pero felt like he was the one on fire, trembling he watched you touch his jaw and cheek, barley getting his name out, as you struggled to say anything else.

“Stay with me, mi amor, por favour.”  He begged at this point, begged whatever power could keep you here, pressing his lips to yours in desperate need, he could just barley feel you kiss him back. Your lips brushed against his as he looked into your eyes.

“Pero, I- I lo..”

Nothing around him felt real. Your eyes fading away as everything in you stopped at once, the life leaving you entirely. It hadn’t been since he was a boy that Pero cried, but there was no stopping the tears now. He held you to his forehead, muttering raggedly in Spanish as he held you tightly.

It was cruel. The only light he’s ever found ripped away from him just as he found you. Pero’s heart shattered along with whatever soul existed within him. He could see William approaching. The horrific view, your body still in his arms soaked with blood, Pero cradling you to him now covered in it as well.

His own voice broke as he spoke, “Tovar,” When Pero looked up to him, it was a look William would never forget. A broken devastation on his face, tears staining his own cheeks and falling further as he looked back at you. “Tovar, it’s them. We-” He held a hand to his head, almost unable to look. “We need to go now, there's more coming, and the smoke-”

He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t need to, nor did he want to either. William looked away. Pero was right, he would never understand how this feels. William in fact was pretty sure Pero would never forget this feeling either.

Pero looked at you once more, pressing his lips against your cold ones, not leaving them as he spoke to you. “Mi corazón está contigo para siempre. Te amaré durante toda mi vida. Mi dulce chica.” One last kiss, and he pulled away. Gently standing with you in his arms, he carried you over to the softer grass beneath the luscious trees, not wanting to leave you splayed out in the road like that.

He brushed through your hair one last time, with a kiss to your forehead. He refused to wipe away the tears staining his cheeks as he and William were forced to run. He wasn’t here to protect you when it mattered most, this was his fault. Let him remember this pain forever, he thought to himself.

No matter how long that forever was. . . . . Journal of Father Raymond, 07-1196, AD.

“For some time I had been preparing for the burial of the young woman from the Inn fire with the slashed throat, when I noticed something unusual. She has been in my care for a number of weeks now, and there is no sign of death. No smell, no rot, in fact her colour seems to look less lifeless each day. More unusual, the wound on her neck, seems to be healing. I was unsure at first, but after observing her for a fortnight I can say that her deathly wound has begun to disappear.

The locals say she was a quiet girl, no signs of curses, punishment of sins, no signs of demonic presence. Just a girl working at an Inn, and rumours of budding romance with a man described as dark and foreign. Yet she continues to show no signs of death, despite the body and brain having no function.

I have moved her into the basement, her wrists chained in case I am indeed wrong about a demonic infestation. I have not told the Church of this matter yet, perhaps a sin itself, going against the good of the Lord. But I am also a man of science, and my years as a scholar tell me to understand this womans case further.

I will begin seeking any outside persons or men in the study of science who may have any idea of this phenomenon, or have an interest to join me in researching on our own.

It may take some time, but I am confident at least one such person exists that can help me. A healthy and healing, yet completely dead corpse of an innocent woman is not something I will ignore.

I pray the Lord and the Good Christ forgive me for such transgressions.”

#pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x female reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x y/n #pero tovar #pero tovar imagine #pero tovar fic #pero tovar fanfiction #the great wall fanfiction

[tropes-and-tales]

Heaven on Earth, Part Eight

Characters:  Pero Tovar and F!Reader

WC:  7616

Other Pieces:  This is part of a miniseries.  Pero Tovar masterlist found here.

CW:  Period-appropriate usage of the word “whore,” bit o’ angst, smut (fingering; PiV, unprotected), 18+ only.

You accepted Pero Tovar’s proposal for marriage, but Pero was not able to relax.  He doubted he’d relax until the ring was safely on your finger and the vows exchanged before God and family.

It was the custom of your village to hold weddings in the spring, and Pero gritted his teeth to hear it.  Why couldn’t the two of you just stand before the priest?  He worried each day that passed, you would change your mind.  That you would talk yourself out of marrying him, that you’d convince yourself that all the things you had been told—that you were an unsuitable girl—were true.

None of those things happened, though.  Winter lost its power.  The sun grew stronger; the snows melted.  The thick layer of ice in the streams turned soft and then broke.  Pero put in long hours at the farm, limbing the felled trees, preparing to turn them into a new home for you and him.  

And you?

You didn’t change your mind.  When Pero joined you at your mother’s cottage every few days for the evening meal, you always greeted him at the door with the same shy smile.  The outspoken, audacious girl had been replaced by a quiet one.  The conversation hinged on Mathilde, who tried to draw each of you out.  She asked Pero questions about the farm, encouraged you to talk about your healing work.

It was stilted and awkward each time, but Pero always went.  It was time with you, even if you were quiet and dropped your eyes when he caught you looking at him.

He guessed you were nervous.  He could guess the turmoil the impending wedding caused:  you had lived your entire life in this cottage, and now that part of your life was coming to an end.  You were probably sad to be leaving your mother after all these years.

Still, each time you parted, you reached out and took his hand.  Squeezed it gently, gifted him with one of your bright, sunny smiles.  

-----

As the weather warmed, Pero enlisted the help of the men of the village.  It would take him an entire season to build the new cottage by himself, but with the men’s help, it took less than a fortnight.  All those hands made it light work, and Pero found himself standing in the middle of the larger home, pleased to see his hard work paying off.  You hadn’t seen the house; you had been gently forbidden from returning to the farm until you were his wife.

He and young Walther moved all of the new furniture in a single day.  All he needed now was you, and it would be a proper home.

You and your mother were busy too:  planning the wedding feast, pulling together your bride-price.  Pero and Mathilde had settled on a modest dowry, certain lengths of cloth and kitchen-goods.  Half of your flock of goats and enough cuttings from your herb garden to start a new garden on Pero’s farm.  The cuttings would come last, after you had surveyed the farm and decided where you wanted your own garden.

It was also the custom of your village for your mother to make your wedding dress, while you made the tunic for him. That was a sweetly torturous evening, when he came to your cottage to give his measurements.  How close you had stood to him, how your fingers had brushed against him as you measured his arms, the breadth of his chest, with the knotted cord.

“You don’t need to make me a tunic,” he told you in a low voice as you wrapped the cord around his neck, held it lightly and noted the measurement.  “I have a nice cotton shirt from Arabia.  I could marry you in that.”

You gifted him with that bright smile of yours.  “It’s the custom here, Pero.”

Pero.  You called him that all the time now, but every time still made his heart stutter in his chest.

“I would save you the effort, hermosa.”

Another smile, another brush of your fingers against his shoulders.  “It’s how a girl shows that she can provide for her husband,” you tell him, and your voice has an embarrassed tinge to it.  He wondered how that word, husband, felt when you thought it or said it.  He found himself repeating the word wife over and over until it felt like a heartbeat in his head.  

“I thought I could just fall into devil’s weed every spring,” he joked.  “You can just provide for me by saving my life over and over again.”

You laughed at him, and Pero smiled to hear it.  If he could make you laugh like this at least a few times a fortnight, he’d count himself blessed.

-----

The new house was finished and furnished.  The spring planting was about a month away.  Most of your dowry had been paid to him, and it gave Pero a strange thrill to see some of your things already in his house:  the chest filled with fabric, the shelves by the hearth neatly lined with preserves, kitchen goods.

All that was left was to marry you.

The day before, Mathilde rode the path up to his farm.  She handed him a soft package wrapped in rough-woven fabric, but the ribbon was a bright blue, and tucked under the knot was a small spring of white flowers.

It was the tunic you had made for him.  Pero unwrapped it slowly—when was the last time he got a gift?  He had never thought that you loved him, exactly, that you only were fond of him, felt safer with him than other men.  Yet the tunic felt like a loving thing, all the effort you had put into it for him.  

“She worked on it night and day,” Mathilde told him softly as he ran his thumb over the embroidery.

It was a work of art.  The fabric was a lightweight wool, soft as a cloud, a snowy white.  It was split at the neck, where it laced up.  

Around the neck, though, was your embroidery.  Pero looked closer and saw that it was the story of the two of you, in a way:  the black thorns of the devil’s weed, little blue flowers that Pero recognized from your cousin’s wedding, when you wore them in your hair.  Apple blossoms and rosy-cheeked apples, clearly a reference to that moment in the orchard.

“It’s too good for me,” he breathed out, and Pero felt a sudden, sharp twist of despair.  He didn’t deserve you, and panic started to rise in his chest.

The elder healer seemed to sense it.  She reached out a hand and gripped his forearm, strong.

“She would not have said yes if she didn’t want you,” she told him.  “Don’t doubt her now.”

Pero swallowed hard.  He nodded.

She looked around the new house and smiled a little.  “You’ve built her a beautiful home, Master Tovar.  She will love it.”

Another nod, but the doubt still lingered.

“My husband, God rest his soul…ours was an arranged marriage, you understand.  We met the day we wed.  It’s a difficult thing, Master Tovar, to find yourself wed to a stranger, yet we managed to grow fond of each other over time.  I think perhaps you and my daughter will do better.  You already know each other.  Fondness will be easier to flourish.”

Pero felt the panic fade a little.  He couldn’t be sure of you, but he was certain of himself.  He knew that for him, fondness was already surpassed by love.  

-----

Pero Tovar thought his wedding day would be a long moment, full of memories, but the truth was:  the day flew by in a flash, leaving him with only a few memories, though all of them were of you.

When he saw you at the small church, for example, surrounded by most of your family.  Your mother and two of your brothers and their families.  Your cousin and her new husband.  And you standing in the middle of them, lovely as an angel.  Your face broke into a huge smile, trembling a little around the edges, but Pero smiled back.

Your mother had made you a blue dress, as deep and beautiful as the sky over the valley that spring day.  The edges were embroidered with the same small white flowers you had tucked into the knot on his tunic.  There was a string of river pearls on your neck, and your hair was down and woven through with ribbons and flowers.

The ceremony was over so quickly.  Just a heartbeat and it was over, though Pero remembered the feeling of your hand, cold and trembling, in his own.

And the feeling of your lips on his, the first time he kissed you.  Just the briefest of kisses to seal the marriage ceremony as complete—still more than Pero could have ever dreamt of, a year ago when you were perched over him and saving his life.

*****

It struck you, early on, how different Pero was from….the other one.  The one whose name you never said, never thought.

The other one with all the pain he dealt you…and Pero, with his clumsy way of being gentle, of deferring to you.  Careful not to spook you, like you were a skittish horse.  Which, around men, maybe you were.

The other one with his sweet boyish face, the face of a cherub hiding the soul of a demon…and Pero, with his rough manners and scarred face, belying a sweetness that others probably never saw.

Still, the reality of the day hit you over and over.  During the wedding ceremony, when you were given over from your mother’s care to Pero’s.  During the feast after, as others danced and ate.  You tried a few bites, washed them down with wine, but your stomach twisted and turned.

When the feast started to end, and when Pero took your hand in his.  When he helped you onto his horse, the great war horse decked out in garlands of flowers, his hand steady in yours.  He didn’t join you on the horse; instead, he led the beast on the path to the farm, a bit of custom from his own childhood.

The moon had only just risen in the sky when you arrived at the farm—your home, now—and it was like something from a fairy story.  You gasped at the sight.  You wondered if Pero timed it this way:  the neat little farm laid out in the silvery moonlight, the new house rising against the ridge.  

“Oh, Pero,” you breathed out, and you started to slide off of the horse before you felt his steadying hands on your waist, catching you at the last minute.  He gazed at you, his eyes a bit wary, until you smiled at him.

“You built this for me?” you asked.

He nodded, and you started to make your way to the new home, but Pero caught your wrist in a firm grasp.

“You can’t walk in there,” he told you.  “It’s…it’s custom, where I come from, that a husband carry his new wife through the door of her new home.”  A beat.  “It’s good luck, hermosa.”

That twisting, sick feeling in your stomach returned.  You nodded at him gravely, and you smiled a little to see Pero flustered when he reached for you, swept you into his arms.  He did as he said:  he carried you into your new home, the one he had built for you.

*****

Pero saw how nervous you were.  How you barely touched the food in front of you at the feast, how tremulous your smiles seemed.  

How you seized up the moment you saw the wide bed in the little alcove of the new home.

Pero had made you a promise when you had lain in that bed, weeks and weeks and weeks ago when it was in the old crofter’s hut.  He promised that he’d never take what wasn’t freely given, and you seemed to have forgotten that promise.

Or else you didn’t really trust him to keep his word.

Pero led you to the hearth, and he quickly coaxed a roaring fire from the banked embers.  He poured you an ewer of warm water from the fire, and he turned to you.

“Remember what I told you, hermosa,” he said.  “I only want what we’ve already had together.  I will not hurt you like…I won’t hurt you.”

You nodded at him, but the look on your face plainly told him that you didn’t believe him.

“You can clean up and prepare for bed while I tend to the animals.”  He kept his voice soft, unwilling to give you a single reason to fear him.  “That bed is yours.  I’m sleeping in the cot there.”  He jerked his chin at the original low cot, set up across the alcove from the wider bed.

You looked at the sleeping arrangements, then looked back at him.  Incredulous, but Pero swore he saw relief there too.

“You’re serious?”

Pero took your hand in his, raised it to his mouth, and brushed the gentlest kiss he could muster against your knuckles.  “I am serious, hermosa.  I will not force you to do a single thing you do not want to do.”

More than anything you must have been feeling, exhaustion seemed the most immediate concern.  When Pero returned to the home from tending the animals, he found you tucked away in the large bed, already asleep.

Other men might have scoffed at him, spending such a tame wedding night with his new bride, not taking what was legally his, but Pero was earnest.  This was enough for him, having you here with him.  Having you asleep near him, the soft sound of your deep breaths lulling him to sleep too.

*****

You woke late in the morning, later than you usually woke.  

You realized slowly, then all at once, where you were, what had happened.  You were in Pero’s—yours, now, too—home.  It was the day after your wedding, and Pero hadn’t pressed you beyond a single kiss to your hand.  

And he had let you sleep in like a spoiled princess, a lazy girl instead of a new wife with a home to manage.

Your first day as Mistress Tovar, and you were already failing.  You groaned and climbed out of bed, dressed as quickly as you could.  There was a loaf of bread on the table, and you bolted down a slice of it before you started your day, making a list in you head of the things—

Pero must have been lurking outside, waiting for you to wake up.  He came into the home, and if he regretted his choice to marry a lazing sort of girl who slept beyond the rise of the sun, he didn’t say anything.

“I have things to show you,” he said without preamble.  

“Of course.”

He reached out and took your hand, led you outside.  The sun was brilliant in the sky, and there was a slight breeze.  It was still cold, but the breeze held the promise of warmth returning soon.

Pero’s hand on yours made you smile as he led you across the small yard.  He seemed truthful when he said this was all he wanted from you, these little tame touches.  It seemed inconceivable, yet here you were.  Your first real day as his wife, and untouched beyond this.

The man must have agonized over your arrival though.  He drew you towards the old crofter’s hut, where you had met him, where you had lain after you confessed the story of your previous betrothal.  Once at the door, he ordered you to shut your eyes and to keep them shut until he told you otherwise, and you obliged him.

The sound of him opening the door, then his hand in yours again.  Then the other hand, lightly resting on your waist, steering you inside.

“Watch your step,” he murmured by your ear.

Inside, you stood patiently with your eyes closed until Pero told you to open them.  When he did, and you did, you saw what he had done—the old crofter’s hut had been turned into a workshop, for you.  You mother must have helped him, helped him plan this thoughtful surprise.  There were jars of tinctures, tisanes, balms.  Bundles of fresh herbs were tied in the rafters to dry.  There was a new mortar and pestle, a small cauldron over the hearth.  Small knives and spoons for cutting and mixing.

You didn’t say anything for so long, only walked around looking at everything, that Pero asked, “is it alright?”

“It’s perfect,” you breathed out.  “You did this for me?”

“As a wedding gift.  Your mother helped.”

You turned to him with a teasing smile.  “But isn’t this where you told me that my husband shouldn’t let me do healing work, if it includes seeing naked men?”

Pero scowled, but you knew the man well enough to know his real scowl from this, the one he did when he was teased or jested with.

He didn’t reply.  He only stood there as you inspected the space more thoroughly, a small crooked smile on his lips each time you turned to thank him.

“I have more to show you,” he said, and then it was your hand in his again as he showed you everything he had done to prepare for your arrival.

*****

In all of Pero’s life before now, he had never thought his life would become this.  A trim little farm in a sleepy mountain village, a beautiful wife by his side.

He did all he could to make his farm a home for you.  Built you a newer, larger house.  Turned the old hut into a workshop for you.  As soon as you selected the plot for your herb garden, Pero broke ground for you, and your mother came to help you plant the cuttings.

He had grown fond of the elder healer during your betrothal.  She was a frank woman, but kind, and after the wedding, she had pulled him aside and reminded him that he was her son now too.  

So now Pero Tovar had a family too.  A mother-in-law, brothers and nieces and nephews.  He went from a man alone in the world to a man with roots, with ties, and some of the bleak darkness that seemed to crowd his soul bled away, just like that.

The day that Mathilde came to the farm to help you plant your garden, the woman had pulled him aside afterwards.  She had laid a gentle hand on his arm and led him away from you, towards the fields that he and young Walther were plowing in anticipation for the spring planting.

“Is all well, Pero?” she asked, and at first, Pero thought she was asking after his health.  He told her that he felt fine—no complaints or fevers or aches.

Mathilde smiled at him.  “No, is all well with my daughter?  Are you happy with your choice now, a fortnight later?”

He was.  He never regretted his choice, not a single moment.  Even if you slept in the large bed and he in the cot, even if the most touches you exchanged were his hand in yours, or sometimes when you brushed a kiss to his cheek.  Pero hadn’t lied:  it was enough for him.

He didn’t tell your mother that.  He only grunted out, “yes.”

“Pero, not to be indelicate, but you aren’t truly man and wife unless you consummate the marriage.”  

He winced at the woman’s frankness, which usually charmed him.  He felt his face growing hot, and he turned away from her so she wouldn’t see it.

“I promised her I would never force her,” he said.

“Why would you need to force her?”

He raised his hands, gestured vaguely.  Couldn’t say the words, those dark, awful words.  Couldn’t mention the one before him and that broken betrothal and the violence it had spawned.

Mathilde waited for a long moment for him to say something, and when he didn’t, she sighed.  She patted him on the shoulder.  

“Take it in your own time, then,” she advised.  “Some plants take longer to bloom, I suppose.”

-----

Pero didn’t mention the talk with your mother to you.  He guessed that your mother would tell you anyway, especially if you had mentioned to her that the marriage remained unconsummated.

He did try to understand you better, though perhaps he was also trying to understand women in general as well.

Pero watched you closer, in the weeks that followed.  The planting season was upon him, and he and young Walther were busy from sunrise to sunset.  You were busy too:  you took on the rest of the farm chores.  Tended the animals, cooked the meals.  When the sun was at its zenith in the sky, you brought him and Walther their meal.  You sat with them and ate your own, and if Pero hadn’t spoken with your mother, he would have missed the way you looked at him, on the sly.

Your eyes, when you thought he wasn’t watching you, seemed to study him.  Seemed to take in how he looked after a morning of hard labor, the way his shirt clung to him.

If Pero didn’t know better, he’d think the look on your face was desire.

He watched you even closer.

At night, when he washed up and went to his cot—the same way you watched him, secretly, out of the corners of your eyes, from under the fringe of your hair as you brushed it before bed.  The faintest bit of expectation on your face when he walked towards you, then the faintest disappointment as he went to his own bed.

Did women desire men the way men desired women?  Was that even possible?

Pero knew that coupling didn’t need to be a violent, painful thing.  He knew what it had been like with the handful of whores he had taken in his previous life; he hadn’t hurt them, though he doubted they desired him more than his gold.  But with wives, Pero had always assumed that coupling was something wives resigned themselves to.  A chore, the same as baking bread or weeding gardens.

Maybe it wasn’t a chore, though.  Maybe it didn’t have to be. 

On the journey back from the Far East, Pero and William had spent a season in Arabia, hired out to a merchant as protection.  The merchant, a spry man of middle age named Masûd, had frequented a brothel every third night, though in Arabia, they weren’t called brothels or whores.  They were called pleasure gardens and consorts.

Pero had never been allowed inside, not a once.  The proprietress has scoffed at him, muttered something in her musical tongue, and Masûd had translated, roughly, as “no Christians allowed.”

So when his employer went to the pleasure garden, Pero stayed in the small courtyard where other servants waited.  From time to time, he caught a glimpse inside:  when a door was opened, when a shutter was thrown wide.  It wasn’t like the brothels he had ever went to:  the women were sleek and lovely, the place scented like flowers.  Music spilled out, singing.  Other noises, of course—the sounds of pleasure, for both the customers and the consorts alike.

Pero dared to ask Masûd once, why they allowed no Christians.

“Because Christians are stingy with love,” the man had said simply.

“But if you are paying gold to be there…” he tried to argue, but Masûd waved him off.

“Your kind see women as property.  Chattel,” he said.  “Here, women are treasures.  They must be protected and cherished.”

Pero hadn’t thought much about it at the time, though now, with you, he thought about Masûd and the pleasure garden more.  The man would spend all evening there; no quick in-and-out for him.  Once, when Pero had remarked on it, the man had obliquely replied that pleasure takes time.

“Isn’t fruit sweeter when you leave it on the vine a little longer?” he had asked Pero with a wink.  “And isn’t it sweeter when you warm it in your hands?”

He had slapped Pero on the back in a convivial way, laughed at the Spaniard’s shocked expression.  Masûd had continued on that way, the entire way back to his home:  sly euphemisms about pleasure, about waiting for fruit to ripen, about coaxing flowers from bud to blossom.

With you now as his wife, Pero guessed that maybe women did feel some stirrings of desire.  He also guessed that you’d never be bold enough to tell him so, so he was left in a sort of purgatory:  unwilling to disappoint you by never loving you as a husband should, but unwilling to press you into something you didn’t want.

-----

With your help, Pero got the spring planting done quickly.  You tended everything else, he tended the fields, and within a month of your wedding, the farm was bristling with new life.

That day, it was so warm and sunny that Pero sent young Walther home in the morning.  The boy had a sweetheart in the next village over, apparently, and Pero was feeling so good that he waved the boy away with an order to go spend the day with her.  The seeds were planted, and now the work of the farm lay with the farm itself.  In the soil and sun and rain.

Pero went looking for you.

You weren’t in the house or your workshop or the herb garden, and he smiled to guess where you were.  With the weather being nicer, you often went into the apple orchard.  He had found you there more than once, sitting under a tree in the dappled sunlight, knitting or sewing.

That’s where he found you now, and he paused a distance away to look at you.  His beautiful wife, even if he hadn’t consummated the thing.  The woman who was the beating heart of his life now, even if you thought he had only married you out of pity.  You were sitting on the ground, your legs stretched out in front of you.  You had kicked off your boots and rucked your skirt up to your knees.  Now that you were married, you wore your hair as all of the mistresses did:  braided and pinned up, showing the lovely column of your throat, making you look more fragile than you had as a maiden with your braids down.

Your sewing was in your lap, and you were concentrating on the needle as it flashed in and out of the fabric—he recognized it as the shirt he wore when he plowed, the tear a recent one.  

He gave a little whistle, not wanting to startle you.  When you looked up, you smiled at him.  It was the same sunny smile you’d given him when you had healed him, and just as before, Pero found himself lost.

“I sent the boy home,” he told you as he walked over to you, settled on the ground beside you.  “He has a girl I thought he might like to go see.”

You laughed and set your sewing aside.  “You’ve gone soft now that you’re married, Pero,” you teased.  “Where’s the scowling mercenary I met?”

Pero frowned, glared at you in mock anger.  “He was broken in, like a wild horse.”

You laughed again.  “Is that how it went?”

“Oh yes.”  He laid down on the grass beside you, gazed up where you looked down upon him with a smile on your face.  “A very rude girl-healer threw a bridle on me and broke my spirit.”

“That sounds terrible, Master Tovar.”  You reached out a hand and laid it on his head, pushed your fingers into his curls.  Gently tugged on them, combing your fingers through the snarls.

Pero closed his eyes, felt the sick wave of love course through him as it always did when you touched him, unbidden.

“It is terrible,” he murmured.  “I had to marry the girl, in the hopes of sparing other men the same rudeness.”

“But she still heals men.  I heard that you still allow her that.”

Pero snorted.  “Allow.  As if I could stop her if I wanted to.  She bridled me, but I doubt she could be tamed, even if I wanted to.”

“You don’t want to bridle and tame your wife then?”

He shook his head against your hand, and he moved a little closer to you until his forehead was pressed against your hip.  

“No, I like her just as she is,” he replied.  “Even if she is rude and mocked me when I was ill.”

“Only because you deserved to be mocked.”

Pero cracked open an eye and turned his head to look up at you.  You were smiling at him.  You lifted your hand a little, an invitation, and Pero moved closer.  He put his head in your lap, and when you resumed finger-combing his hair, lightly scratching his head, he shut his eyes again.

It was like the moment before in the apple orchard, only so much better.  Before, Pero had despaired—that he’d never see you again, that he had ruined his friendship with you.  He had apologized and pressed his frowning face against your knees as you sat in the apple tree.  He had dared to touch you, to cup the sweet curve of your calf in his palm.  Had chanced to touch higher, had touched the soft skin where your stockings ended.  But that had been all:  the moment had been broken too soon.

But this was better.  Like paradise, still, just the two of you under the apple tree.  The heavy scent of flowers, the drowsy buzzing of bees as they floated between the blossoms.  Your gentle hands on him—one on his head, the other lightly resting on his shoulder.

One arm was tucked under him, but his other hand found its way to you.  Like before, the careful way he reached down to touch your stockinged knee.  He could feel the warmth of your skin through the wool, and he shifted his hand to cup your calf, as before.  He heard the same little hitching breath you made before, but you didn’t stop it.

Instead, you shifted just a little.  You parted your thighs just a little, just enough for him to move his hand….

Pero went so slowly.  He walked that razor’s edge between wanting you and not wanting to hurt you.  He shifted his hand again, as before, and found the edge of your stockings, the bit of ribbon that tied them off.  He stroked the soft skin there with his thumb, and he heard the way your breathing changed.  How it quickened.

He didn’t dare turn his head to look at you.  He only pressed forward, a torturous fraction at a time.  Each new touch, he paused and waited for you to respond.  Which you did—by shifting, by opening your legs to him.  When he tugged lightly against the knot of your stocking’s ribbon, you bent your leg under him enough for him to untie it.  And when he rolled the stocking off of you—and then the second one—you released a shaky breath that you must have been holding.

Maybe Masûd had been right.  Maybe it took time to coax a bud into a blossom.  Pero, not rushed by the time limits set by a brothel, not rushed to spend more gold for more time, went slowly now.  You were his wife, and he didn’t think of you as chattel.  He thought of you as Masûd had said, as his treasure to cherish.  

Your legs bared to him, Pero touched you.  Stroked the soft skin, felt the firm muscles underneath.  He ran a fingertip along the sole of your foot, and he laughed when you jerked away from him with a shriek.

But then his hand moved higher, up and inward, until it was so close to the core of you that he paused.  He raised his head and peered up at you, and he was surprised to see the open desire on your face, the heavy-lidded eyes and parted lips, before you schooled your expression.

“I will not take what’s not freely given,” he told you, his voice low and serious.  “I will not hurt you, mi amor.”

You took a deep breath, but then you tilted your head.  “What does mi amor mean?  Does it mean girl too?”

“It means my love.”

You smiled at that, but tears sprang up in your eyes.  He could see how you were going to argue with him, how you wanted to tear open that old wound and try to convince him that he couldn’t really love you…so Pero rose up and stopped your mouth with a kiss.

It was only the second time he really kissed you.  You’d brush a gentle kiss to his cheek sometimes, but that was the extent of it.  The kiss at the church, a shy, quick thing, and now this.

Pero didn’t have much experience with kissing, but he was eager to learn.  How could he not be?  It felt like heaven to put his mouth on yours, to feel your soft lips against his own.  He reached up and laid his hand on the side of your neck, holding you steady, and he could feel the quickening pulse there.  Your heart hammering as hard as his own.

He broke away and looked at you.  He looked for any reluctance or pain or fear, but he found none.

Then you laid your hands on him, one on each side of his face.  Held him as you gazed back at him.

“Pero, I want to know what it’s like, to be with you,” you told him, your words barely a whisper and halting as you said them.  “I want…want that memory replaced by you.”

“I won’t hurt you.”

You nodded.  “I know.  I trust you.”

Another difference between you and the women at brothels he had bedded before:  the sheer amount of clothing.  Your boots and stockings were already off, but then there was your apron, your kirtle.  The shift underneath, and here Pero paused before continuing.  He removed his own shirt and trousers, stripped down to his small-clothes, and he didn’t miss how your eyes took in the sight of him.  He laid his hand on your hip, the thin linen the only thing separating you, and he looked at you questioningly.

You only nodded at him.

Perhaps he should be ashamed to consummate his marriage to you in the orchard, rutting like a beast in the field, but it didn’t feel that way.  It felt as though it were paradise, and you were the only two people there.  The moment—the sun dappling against your bodies, the heavy scent of flowers—was a bit of magic that he was loathe to break by taking you back to the house.

Once he got your shift off of you, Pero found himself hardly able to breathe.  You were perfect, far more lovely than he deserved.  Every inch of you was beautiful, even if you squirmed a little under the force of his gaze.  Even if you tried to hide yourself, tried to wrap an arm around your naked body.

“Don’t,” he pleaded softly.  “Don’t hide yourself from me.”  He took your hand in his, gently pried your arm away so that he could see you.

“You’re still hidden from me,” you pointed out, your voice shaky.  

Pero grinned, reached down to remove his small-clothes.  “But you’ve seen me naked before, mi amor.”

“And a sad sight that was, you feverish and scowling.”

Pero reached out with a lone finger, trailed it over your side the way he had touched the sole of your foot.  He was rewarded with the same laughing squeal, the same attempt to squirm away from his tickling, and he laughed to hear you so merry in such a meaningful moment.

“I was not a sad sight,” he growled as he laid down beside you.  He kissed your cheek, flushed and warm under his lips.  He kissed all over your face until you giggled and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you.

“You were not,” you conceded, and Pero kissed you.  He opened his mouth against yours, chanced to slide his tongue just enough that he could taste you.  You tasted like the tisane you drank each morning, a spicy floral laced with a bit of honey.

Isn’t fruit sweeter when you warm it in your hands? Masûd had asked, and Pero considered the wisdom of that now.  The more he touched you, the more he felt you relax underneath him.  The more you relaxed, the more you touched him in turn:  your gentle hands on his arms, his back.  Your fingers in his hair, your palm cupping his face.

His own hands mapped your entire body, and something dormant in him awoke, told him to use his mouth as well.  So his hands and his mouth moved over you, stroked and kissed you.  He found parts of you he liked very much, like the soft curves of your breasts, and he spent a lifetime there, touching you, kissing you.  The first time you cried out he stilled, but then you spurred him on, whispered breathlessly for him to not stop.

He moved lower.  There was a bruise on your hip, and Pero hissed when he saw it.  He lifted his head and saw you watching him.

You shrugged a little sheepish.  “One of your goats kicked me the other day.”

“I’ll slaughter him,” Pero promised.  “We’ll make a stew out of him.”

You laughed, but your laughter shifted to other sounds.  Lovely, like music, the heavy way you breathed underneath him, the little moans you tried to hold back.  Pero shifted himself over you, but he put his hand to you first.  He kissed you deeply as he touched you, as his fingers slid through the curls at the juncture between your thighs.  As he touched you carefully, exploring you, before he slid a finger gently, slowly into you.

You breath hitched at that, and Pero watched your face for pain.  There was none that he could see:  you looked stunned, but you nodded back at him.  Urged him to continue.

So he did.  He worked a second finger into you, felt how your body responded.  He felt you growing wetter against his hand, and damned if Masûd’s oblique references about fruit and nectar and juices suddenly made sense to Pero.

“Good girl,” he muttered against the crook of your neck.  He felt the way you pressed back against his hand now, how you seemed to want more.  His cock was painfully hard, weeping for release too, and he ground himself against your hip for some friction.

He listened as you panted near his ear, and Pero drew the moment as long as he could.  He didn’t want to spill against your hip, and he could sense you wanted more, judging by how you whined each time he pulled his fingers from you.  Then you finally begged him.

“Please, Pero,” you whispered, and your voice was punched-out, ragged.  

It was a slow, careful thing, climbing onto you.  Shifting his weight over you, keeping as much of his body balanced on his arms.  But you reached up and pulled him closer to you, parted your thighs to make room for him, and Pero found the length of his body pressed against yours.

“I won’t hurt you,” he repeated.  

“I trust you.”

A slow, careful thing too, breaching the warm confines of your body.  Claiming you as his own, and he treated you as gently as a virgin—indeed, in the moment, the other, the man who violated you wasn’t even in Pero’s thoughts.  It was just you:  his perfect, lovely wife, the girl-healer who had saved his life and then made his life something worth living.  Just you with your parted lips as you breathed through whatever you felt, as you gazed up at him with complete love and trust in your eyes.

You loved him too, Pero realized suddenly, like a punch to the gut.  It wasn’t just that you felt safer with him than other men.  It was love.  The way you peered into his eyes, the way you nodded and smiled just a bit as he pushed himself into you completely.

As if you could read his mind, when he was finally bottomed out into you, the slick velvety heat of your cunt, you sighed out his name.  And you said it, said the words, said, “I love you, mi amor.”

His own language, his own words, tumbling out of your mouth.  What else could he do but kiss you?

He moved as slowly as he dared, barely pulling out before he sank back into you.  It was nothing like the quick and hurried tumbles with whores, the sting of shame and the reek of spilled ale and other men.  This felt like heaven, every bit of it.  Everything from the tight way you gripped him to the way you threaded your fingers through his curls to force his mouth back to yours, to breathlessly kiss him.

“You’re doing so well,” he said, and he noted how you smiled shyly at his praise.  He’d have to do that more, he thought.  He should praise you all the time, on all the small and ordinary ways you made his life better.  

But as he loved you as gently as he could, something changed in your face.  The soft smile, the slightly stunned look ceded to confusion.

“Are you okay?” he asked, slowing his pistoning hips.  “Are you in pain?”

You shook your head.  “No, it doesn’t hurt.  It just…feels strange.”

“I can stop—” Pero began to say, but you cut him off with a fierce “no, don’t stop” and then wrapped your arms around his shoulders to hold him there.  

“Don’t stop,” you repeated, so he didn’t.

If Pero had been allowed to visit the pleasure gardens in Arabia, he might have had an idea of what was happening.  Raised by the Christian church though, raised to believe certain things about shame and pleasure, he had no idea that his idle question from earlier—that perhaps women could feel pleasure too—was being answered for him.

The gasp that tore out of your throat almost stilled him again, it sounded so much like pain to his ear.  But you held him tighter, pulled his head to yours.  You panted in his ear to no, don’t stop, please don’t stop, keep going, oh Pero, please.  

Confused, Pero did as he was bidden, and he felt it a moment later:  the sudden way you arched underneath him, as if you were seized by some spasm.  The way you whined out his name, gripped his hair hard as you trembled.  

The way your cunt gripped him too, a sudden vise-grip that rippled along his cock, as if your body was trying to pull him as deep as it could go.

“My god,” Pero breathed out, realizing all at once what was happening.  “Fuck, look at you, mi esposa.”

It was all Pero could do—look at you.  He took in your flushed face, your parted lips as you keened against what you were feeling.  Your eyes, shiny with tears, but not from pain.

Pero watched you for a beat, but then his own pleasure overtook him, the tight coil of tension low in his belly snapping as he buried himself and spilled inside of you.

-----

Long moments for both of you to recover.  You held him against you until Pero felt his own racing heart slow, and then he carefully climbed off of you.  Bit back a groan to see his spend trickling out of you, tangible proof of the consummation, that you were truly his wife and he your husband.

You turned shy again, afterwards, but Pero didn’t let it linger, didn’t let it take root.  He tilted your head to face him, kissed you until you were smiling at him.  

“Was I alright?” you finally asked, and Pero kissed you again before he answered.

“You were perfect, mi amor.  You are perfect.”

He kept your shyness at bay, leaned into the intimacy of the after.  He pulled on his own clothing hastily, but he helped you dress.  He rolled your stockings up your legs, tied them off with the ribbons.  He helped you lace up your kirtle, and it felt like a promise, dressing you like this:  a promise that he would help you out of your clothing again, that he would love you again.  As many times as you wanted him, which he hoped was a lot.

The two of you took your time to return to the house.  Pero wrapped his arm around your waist, reluctant to let you go now that he’d had you.  Reluctant to let doubt creep in when he had perhaps banished it.

Your own arm was around his waist too, and he smiled at the way you leaned into him.  Perhaps the doubt was banished after all.  Or, if it returned, he’d fight it back again.  With you by his side, just like this, Pero thought he could fight any foe.  If he was injured, after all, wasn’t it best to have a cunning girl-healer, perhaps a little rude and teasing, but completely, utterly his?

~~~Tag List~~~ @bananas-pajamas  @massivecolorspygiant​   @imspillingcoffee​   @amneris21​   @paintballkid711​   @mad-girl-without-a-box​   @bestattempt   @rosiefridayrogersunday​   @strawberrydragon​   @hoeforthefictional​   @greeneyedblondie44​  @leannawithacapitala​   @stardust-galaxies​  @buckybarneshairpullingkink​   @isvvc-pvscvl​   @mrschiltoncat​  @stillshelbs​   @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics​    @tobealostwanderer​   @nuvoleincielo​  @knivesareout​  @frankie-catfish-morales​    @prostitute-robot-from-the-future  @mishasminion360​   @elegantduckturtle​   @sarahjkl82-blog​   @qwtyy   @crazyworldofsiani​   @luminescentlily​   @hriive   @tenderwhat​   @giselatropicana​   @luxmundee​   @lolwhateverlol  @etenax​  @amaras83​   @literallydontlook​   @mrsbentallmadge​  @yoditostan​  @tintinn16​

#pero tovar #pero tovar imagine #pero tovar x reader #The Great Wall

[crimsonheart01]

Saturday June 11, 2022

+ FIC RECS MASTERLIST +

Apologies my loves for not doing a round up the last few weeks. I haven’t been reading a lot lately. I’ve been going through it. Here’re a few that I’ve read over the past few weeks. Some of these I’ve already reblogged but I’m trying to stay consistent with my own format! LMAO I’m such a mess!! 

If you read any of the stories on this list, please make sure to show love to the authors by liking and reblogging their content!

A reminder to everyone that my blog houses 21+ content. This post isn’t any different. I’m not adding in the specific tags or warnings for each rec here but know that they can house adult content as well.

✨ If you are under 21, please DNI.✨

1.  Prey by @toomanystoriessolittletime​

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

I don’t want to write too much here because I refuse to spoil this. You need to read it. YOU ABSOLUTELY NEED TOO. All the way to the absolute end. I need the sequel right now. As in, yesterday. This was too good. TOO GOOD. I will be waiting impatiently for the next installment because I NEED ANSWERSSSSSS!!!!!! 

2.   "You? You wanna tie me up?” by @imagineredwood​

Pairing: Angel Reyes x Fem!Reader

MAYANS FAM! OUR QUEEN IS AT IT AGAIN! SHE DID IT AGAIN! SHE NEVER MISSES! I DON’T EVEN LIKE ANGEL ALL THAT MUCH ANYMORE BUT HERE I AM SLIP SLIDING ALL OVER MY SEAT. I reblogged this a while back but I needed to add this one into the wrap up. It’s too good to not still be talking about it!!! 

3.   Ubiquitous by @darklordofthesimp​

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

This was the perfect amount of action, hurt, comfort, and angst. I can still feel my heart constricting with this one. The miscommunication, the way they’re both suffering and trying to heal themselves from losing the kid. Ugh, the little anecdote about the tools and the fact that Din bought them for our reader?!!!! Absolutely stunning. 

4.   Primroses: A Sign of Early Spring by @oonajaeadira​​

Pairing: Pero Tovar x Fem!Reader

The way this is written? I am weak in the knees. I felt every word in my bones. My entire body was tingling while reading this. The subtle anticipation. Ugh, fucking beautiful. The way this ends too!? Promises of finding one another in this life or the next? AHHHHHHHHHHHHH Soul Mates. THEY ARE SOUL MATES!!!!! 

5.   Not Yours by @crushed-pink-petals-writes​​​

Pairing: Manny x Fem!Reader x EZ Reyes

Phew, that’s really I can say about this one. P H E W ! Listen, EZ has never been it for me, but this dynamic? With our reader and Manny in the mix?! It’s juicy, with a capital J U I C Y! This is such a great start to an amazing series. Even if there’s no series involved, y’all gotta read this one. It has everything we love about Mayans in it. It’s perfect! 

#crims fic recs #din djarin #pero tovar #manny montana #ez reyes #angel reyes #din djarin imagine #din djarin imagines #pero tovar imagine #pero tovar imagines #manny montana imagine #manny montana imagines #ez reyes imagine #ez reyes imagines #angel reyes imagine #angel reyes imagines #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x fem!reader #din djarin x female reader #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar x fem!reader #pero tovar x female reader #ez reyes x reader #ez reyes x female reader #ez reyes x f!reader #ez reyes x fem!reader #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes x f!reader

[chronically-ghosted]

iron and charcoal

rating: explicit 18+ pairing: pero tovar x f!reader word count: 6.9K summary: Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. But there would be no tomorrow. No future, no light of dawn – not without –  Her. He’d never heal because tomorrow would never come.  OR Pero falls hard for a princess and doesn’t know what to do with himself on your wedding night. warnings: angst, brief classism/xenophobia two very stubborn people, pero experiences one Human Emotion and cannot fully process it, arranged marriage, yearning, smut LIKE WOW, soft!pero that i broke my own heart with a/n: Thank you so much to @perotovar for this request: "congrats on your milestone, my love! so happy for you <33 i'm sending a little astrology 💫 + pero & #6 on the fluffy list OR #1 on the smutty list (whichever is speaking to you), because i wanna see your take on him 👀” – of course I chose the slutty one, just for you 😉 I’m actually pretty proud of this one - please consider reblogging if you like it too!

*the image in the header is for aesthetic purposes only and does not reflect the appearance of the reader*

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Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. 

Sometimes before battle, the clatter inside Pero’s head goes silent. It listens. It waits. 

Other times, it roars. Memories of family, of dead amigos, of mujeres he fucked – they all buck and scratch for a chance to blaze across his mind like a dust storm kicked up by an unbroken mustang. 

He doesn’t know which one he prefers or which one will win out. They both have their uses, necessary states of mind to survive whatever is barreling towards him – an ax, a monster out of legend, some other drunken mercenary he intentionally pissed off. It’s an unconscious decision, yet one that has served him well so far. He wouldn’t be alive today if some deep, primal part of him knew what he needed to live through another battle. 

And yet, his own trunk knocking against his hips as he climbed the sickly ostentatious stone steps to the top of the parapet, the handles starting to pinch his fingers, the barest – nearly invisible – tremor in his knees, he cannot fathom, for the life of him, why that singular phrase from his abuela played in his head like water swirling around and around a cenote. 

Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. 

Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. 

His inner voice, taking on a myriad of forms, of sounds and voices, never quite standing still, the one companion he could always rely on. 

Maybe it was warning him. Dust yourself off, boy, you know exactly how this was going to end. 

Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. 

But there would be no tomorrow. No future, no light of dawn – not without –

Her.

He’d never heal because tomorrow would never come.

He feels sweat escape from the nape of curls at his neck, his cheeks warm and chest hot. Two more flights, he can manage two more flights. 

His abuela also liked to tell him something else: if hell doesn’t get him, his pride certainly will. 

It’s certainly what got him into this ridiculous farce in the first place. Because he can’t alchemize whatever is in his gut into vocalized syllables, he instead has to climb a truly incalculable amount of stairs, while carrying a ragged, torn trunk that weighs as much as his armor. 

Because he can’t form the right words, any words, about what he carries lodged beneath his breastbone for her. What draws him up and up and up and up because it’s lighter than hope, makes him lighter than air, and yet it clogs him up, chokes him out all the same. His pride, his vanity, cuts through it, through her – enough to keep him tongueless and dry but not enough to offer this lightness in his chest to her, for her. He can’t take the light out of him or else he fears what he will truly become.

So, he walks, he goes around and around on unforgiving stone steps until finally there is a door. He thinks about waiting, to catch his breath, but he knows he will just as easily turn around and go back the way he came, trunk still heavy and knocking against his hips, and that pride will be the death of him. So he keeps going, opens the handle, and makes abrupt eye contact with the two guards outside her door. They seem uninterested and unamused in his sweaty, stilted breathing, but by his less-than-royal attire, they easily clock him as one of their own; a man who fights to make his way in the world. The one on the left nods jerkily at him. 

What they see him as, what he will always be, is nearly the reason he kicks that fucking trunk all the way back down. Instead, he nods back, shoulders rounded, eyes down. 

“The princesa - the princess - is requesting the last of her things, to be b-brought up from the stables –,” he clears his throat, “drop this off for her and –,”

“Can’t let you in. King’s orders.” The one on the right sees him as something else – a foreigner first and foremost, their similar stations in life irrelevant. His bright blue eyes rove over Pero’s dark skin, dark hair, jagged scar, distaste and disgust smearing his already ugly features. But he had been dealing with men like these all his life.

“Bueno, you can explain to the King himself why his daughter’s belongings were lost and disregarded. I hear she’s very fond of the Italian prints at the bottom of this . . .”

The guards glance at each other, calculating way above their paygrade. Pero jostles the trunk as if to show he is not above throwing it out the window. 

“Fine.” The second one snaps. “Drop it inside and come back immediately.”

He drops his head, a good little foreign boy. “Gracias, señor.” 

The heavy wooden door opens beneath the iron lock and the instant he is through, he bolts it behind him. Waits to see if the guards notice. They don’t. Perfectamente – all the time in the world. 

All in the time in the world – for what? 

To fail? Again?

He stows the trunk in front of the door, extra time, a few seconds maybe – as if she wouldn’t just tell him to get out the instant she laid eyes on him. Only time will tell. 

Out of the atrium, another door, this one set deep into the wall. A last line of defense. He knocks, once, then twice, then waits. El orgullo chokes him again but fuck it, he’s come this far. He knocks again, knocks something in his chest free and, with it, spill the words:

“Princesa? It’s me. I –,” it throttles him, “princesa, can you open the door?” 

Silence. His heart sits, buried in that trunk. Then –

“It’s unlocked, Pero.” 

His heart in his throat, he opens the door to presumably what will be your marriage bed. And yet, by the state of things, you could have been moving out of it. Trunks and bags stack high against the far wall – those fucking trunks he made such a scene over because the unnecessary weight would slow them all down remain untouched, arranged as they had been when they had been first brought in. He didn’t quite know what to make of that, his thumb absently pressing into the callus of his other hand as he glanced around. It is a beautiful room – tall windows, etched in scarlet drapes, to match the scarlet curtains around the bed. With gold thread and impossibly detailed paintings of the countryside, it is fit for a princess, a some-day queen. This is where someone with royal blood deserved to be, not in the back of a hot carriage for weeks on end, surrounded by dirty, loud, rough men. 

And yet, with your hair down, expansive gown from the ball tonight replaced with a simple cotton dress, you could not have been more out of place. Pero’s heart lurches briefly, moisture seeping from his mouth, as he realizes this is the same dress he bought you when the two of you had been accidentally separated by the caravan and your previous dress had been ruined in the mud. He had no idea you still kept it, much less wore it ever again. 

But if anyone asked him, you look more beautiful in this than any silk or velvet. 

Instead of unpacking, settling into your new home and eventual role as wife, you sit hunched over at the intricately carved mahogany desk, eagle feather quill scratching against parchment. You finish with a flourish and look over your shoulder at him, your eyes annoyingly unreadable. 

“Yes?”

A stupid brute some may call him, but he wasn’t entirely without awareness. Observation of your customs and what you considered inappropriate only encouraged him: if you really didn’t want him here, you would never have let him see you in this state.

But it’s hard to remember that under your icy stare. 

“Y-your things, Princesa. The last from the caravan.”

Your eyes slide over him, to the trunk in the shadows of the atrium. He can tell from a single glance that you know as well as he that trunk is not yours, that no one told him to come here with it, and yet he did it all the same. Something flashes over your eyes but it’s gone by the time you meet his gaze again. 

“Thank you. I am, as always, indebted to you.” 

He hates your words, but warmth spreads in his gut at the way you say it. That’s how it’s always been between you and him – saying one thing but meaning another. He’d never appreciated a sharp mind like yours until he realized you wield it as he wields a sharp sword. 

There are many things he’d never even dreamed of before he met you.

“Then, this means you’re leaving, I suppose.” You draw your sword against him. The metal flashes in your eyes as you stand, one hand against the curved tip of your chair. A bronze halo rims your outline, the fire behind you burning bright and hot. He knows if he touched your shoulder, your neck, your skin would be wonderfully warm. 

He wets his lips. “Si. Our contract with your father is done.” 

You drop his gaze, your lips tightening for a minute, your fingers running through the carvings of wood on the chair. “Even with William in his state? Would it not be better for him to stay and recover? The journey home is –,” you pause, as though someone had thrown a hand over your mouth, “– the journey back east is long.” 

All the longer without you.

“William, he is not an idle man. Two days of bedrest is often all he can take.” 

You grin, in spite of this thing circling you both. “Unless he finds the nun attending to him beautiful.

“He finds them all beautiful.” 

Your smile expands wide across your bright face when you find him smiling at you too. 

This – if this is to be his last memory of you (his heart wrenches at the thought) – this is the you he wants imprinted on his soul: smiling and glowing by firelight. 

But as quickly as it came, that grin that warms him down to his bones, fades. In an instant, your eyes grow soft, your mouth twisted, jaw tight.

“Where will you go?” you ask, in the quietest voice you’d ever addressed him with. 

It pains him, physically aches within him, to hear the distress in your voice. He hasn’t even thought about the next contract, the next royal cabrón who intends to yank him all across God’s green earth to perform a task he can’t be fucked to take on himself. How can he possibly answer you? Nowhere, without you. To rot in a dark hole in the ground? Off a cliff? What answer would provide you or him any sort of satisfaction?

“Wherever the coin goes,” he says and the words scrape his tongue like bile. That ache in his chest spiraling rapidly, deep into his gut – like a poisoned limb he cannot amputate – he does the same thing he always does when he’s hurt: he makes others hurt until they leave him alone. “You do not have to worry, princesa, your new husband will keep you in such comfort you will never wonder where the coin comes from.”

He must be a truly sick man, for the knife-sharp glare you throw at him only knots arousal around the base of his spine. It tugs on something attached directly to his groin which, in turn, yanks the next words out of his mouth.

“He looked especially happy with you in his arms on the dance floor tonight.”

The icy shards in your eyes go brittle and crack. His heart races; he’s overplayed his hand. 

“You watched me dance?”

“All guardsmen were required to –,”

You shake your head, eyes bright and searing through him. “No. It was only the King’s Knights there in attendance.” 

Your hand trailing off the edge of the chair, you take a step forward and he feels his weight shift back onto his heels. But he remains firm. 

Sana, sana.

“Pero, why did you come here tonight?”

“To return the last of your things, princesa. What else is there?”

You flinch, as if he had raised his voice to you. What else is there indeed?

“Not even to . . .  say goodbye? Sixteen weeks on the road is an awfully long time to be around someone, only for them to . . . leave so soon.”

He locks his knees to keep them from shaking. “Do you wish for me to tell you goodbye, princesa?” 

There’s something painfully sad about the way you smile at him. “I wish for whatever would make you happiest.” 

Anger roars within him, hungry and hot, like a burn from a white flame. Why can’t you just admit it? Why do you avoid it time and time again? He knows he hasn’t misread anything you’ve sent his way, so why? Why are you so vested in torturing him this way? 

“Coin makes me happy and, now that I have it, there’s nothing to keep me here.”

There, that hurts you too, just as he meant it.

“Then leave.” They could make ice fortresses out of the strength of your bone-cold stare. “If you have nothing else to say, then take your goddamn trunk and get out of my sight.” 

The flame scorches him, ripping him apart and in his anger, making him cruel.

He bows to you.

“I imagine you will be very happy with your new husband, ranita.”

The term slips from his lips before he can stop it, but his throat and cheeks blister so badly, he physically can’t open his mouth to correct his mistake. Instead, he turns and strides towards the door.

He thinks he hears a gasp from behind him, a sharp sound like breaking glass – small, tinkling, tragic. It spears him through his chest, pierces his heart. 

He gets to the door and pauses.

If you have nothing else to say . . .

Of course he has something to say – words in English and Spanish and broken dialects gathered like poisonous lichen all churning in the boiling cauldron of his mind, but nothing will suffice – nothing reflects or compares to the grief he is already feeling, the despair, the anguish that has settled into all the fleshy joints in his body. Not his pride, but this, saying goodbye to you, this is what actually will kill him.

Every word imaginable crawls up his throat and rages in his mouth, presses up against his teeth, begging for something, anything to be let out, to be free, to tell you that he cannot fucking live without you–

Nothing comes through, but one single word.

“Don’t.” 

The fire crackles in the silence, a wicked god pleased at the display of carnage.

“What did you say?”

A dull thud echoes from where he drops his forehead against the wood of the door, all anger flooding out of his system. Do you have any idea the power you hold over him? One request, one tremor in your voice and his knees all but buckle at your altar. 

Fuck it. 

He always thought he’d go out in a blaze of bloody glory, but he’d never expected to be so exposed, so flayed like this.

“Don’t,” he repeats, his throat as dry as sand. “Do not . . . marry him. Please.” 

The vision of your great warrior slumped against the door frame, his neck bent, shoulders curled up to his ears has your already pounding heart leaping forward into a gallop. He is defeated, laid low. You watch his guts all but pool out on your hearth. 

He looks about as hopeless and anguished as you feel. 

Your soldier, your man of iron and charcoal, goes blurry in your eyes.

“And what would you have me do, Pero?” Your plea is damp, malleable at the edges. You press your hand flat against your chest, near your throat, as if you could pull the grief lodged there with your fingers. “I have been engaged to this man before I was even born. How can I stop this?” 

“Fight.” The word snarls against his bare teeth. He turns, his eyes liquid ink, and suddenly he has you by the shoulders. His thumbs nervously skitter around the curve of your shoulder, gaze just as unsteady and unfocused as it wavers between your hands, your earlobe, your neck. "Where is my brave girl who fights for what she wants, hm? Fight – for me, please.”

Fight, he asks – but in spite of him or because of him?

You lay your hands on the silver shine of his breastplate, watch as they rise and fall with his steady flow of breath. How many nights had you woken up against that shine, in the crook of his arm for warmth, or protection? You didn’t cherish it at the time because you never knew when it would be your last. 

“Why won’t you fight, princesa?” His voice is low, strained, the groan of a wagon wheel before it breaks. You meet his gaze and the exposed look on his face, softening every line on his mouth and around his eyes, nearly sends you into hysterics. You swallow the tears, swallow the hook in your throat as your fingers curl around the clasps of his cape. 

"Because if I don't fight then I can't lose.” His fingers slip from your shoulders, to your elbows, to your waist. You inhale and the scents of warm leather, oil, and ash flood your mouth. The tip of your nose is inches from the scruff of beard against his cheek, the ruddy brown of his sun-drenched skin. He has curled you into him and this, you do not fight either. His massive palms map your back, against your skin, but without any urgency or control. “If I can’t lose, that means I don’t lose you. You'll just be . . . gone."

That last word is a lie. It hangs in the air like a sweltering humid rain and you both know you’re lying. He has you wrapped up in his arms, you didn’t stop him even for a second, and you are all too aware that it would take some great, insidious alchemy to ever truly tear him out of you. 

You stare at his silver collar, defiant against the waves you had managed to shackle down until this very moment: a wave of hopeless crashes into you, a wave of heartbreak, a wave of helpless that fills your eyes to the point of spilling with that very same salt water.

He touches your cheek delicately, fingers rough with callouses, and the floodgates break open with a sob. 

“Preciosa,” he rumbles softly against your hairline, “hush. You break my heart with your tears.” 

“Do not mock me, Tovar. Not now.” you sniff, trying to turn your face but his wide hands catch you around the cheeks.

“You are beyond mocking. I’d show you my heavy heart but I do not wish that weight on anyone.” The snag of his rough thumbs against your cheek draws your watery gaze to him. His mouth is a flat line, barred against whatever climbs his throat, but his eyes move like mercury across your nose, your eyelashes, the arch of your cheek. Your fingers wrap themselves around his wrists, a grounding agent against the waves that threaten to pull you under. 

“Pero, I –,”

“I have fought you, tooth and nail, for days without end. Every favor, every breath, you have forced them from me. I fight my own mind when I sleep at night. Sueños, always of the same woman.” He smears away the tears with his thumbs, gently, sweetly, before pressing his lips to your wet flesh by his knuckle. He inhales deeply, eyes closed, mouth hovering stationary above the skin of your cheek. “You fight me every step of the way . . . and I am so tired of fighting.” 

For all your struggling, for all your tearing and clawing and snarling against the blooming in your chest, nothing is as easy as it is to turn your head and press your lips to his. 

The brush of his bristled mustache against your upper lip. His warm, rough palms holding you steady. His lips soft and hot. You are overwhelmed by the scent of him.

There is nothing like, and nothing will ever be like, finally kissing Pero Tovar. 

All it takes is the movement of his hands from your cheeks to your lower back, the light trace of his tongue against your lips, and the yearning you’d been smothering for weeks now roars to life. His hands squeeze your hips and you can suddenly barely breathe. 

“Pero–,” the noise in the shape of his name that escapes you is near a whine, begging. He nips at your lips, hand firmly at the cup of your jaw, mouth now rough and insistent, and your fingers claw up his neck, wrapping themselves in his dark curls. You tug, nails scratching his scalp, and he groans into your mouth as if you’d just kneed him in the gut.

A thread-bare gasp of your name from his lips splits you from him, then his hand on your hip and the back of your neck pushing you backwards gives you enough air to breathe – to think.

"Your husband will know you're not a virgin,” Pero warns, breathing hard and fast, his eyes like black flints, “if we go on." 

You curl your fingers around his neck, dragging your mouth near his jaw, the soft skin at the edge of his ear.

"Then he will also know my heart is not his either.” You ask everything of him with this. His armor blocks his warm body from you – you want to sink inside his hard shell. “If you’ll have it.”

He is not himself, half-human with an inhuman want, with the snarl that leaves him. 

“Don’t make such promises, dulzura –,” A threat, a dog forced to expose its underbelly, fear radiating like the pain from a broken bone. Your fingers dig into the buckles of his cape, steadying you against a sudden terrible awareness that bloomed, purple-bruised. 

“Unless you don’t want –,” 

The desk rattles when your hips break against it, the force of his kiss enough to topple over your inkwell, spill rolls of parchment to the floor. The wood groans under your weight when he gathers the thick swell of your thighs in his hands, heaves you onto the flat surface, and spreads your knees around his waist. He is as hard as the iron on his chest. 

“Can you feel how much I want you?”

A frantic sigh of relief, a groan shared between two pairs of lips, seeking skin and warmth and other hungry places. 

He drags you onto his chest, your skirt bunched up around your hips, the rings of his armor digging into the soft flesh of your thighs, his mouth covering yours in wet pulls, and he stands up right, as though you weighed less than his sword. 

A stumble, and he spreads you out on the velvet covers of your marriage bed, his hands imprinting on your hips, your knees, the supple meat of your calves. The touch of him on your bare skin feels like the licks of flames, the smoke of arousal blurring your awareness and dragging your eyelids half-closed. On his heels at the edge of the bed, the flint shards of his eyes drift over the bones of your ankles, the bend of your knee, your heaving chest, hair in snarls around your neck and caught behind your back, and finally to your cunt, hidden by the folds of your dress. 

Velvet hums as you slide your ankles to the curve of your ass, widening your legs, parting your knees. His lips part open, dark want etching every line of his face. You feel the wet linen of your dress cling to your achy cunt. He swallows, unbuckling his cape one latch at a time, his eyes nowhere else. The metal clatters as it falls to the floor.

Piece by piece, the chinks in his armor fall away. Piece by piece, he is revealed to you. Your hands rise up, up your thighs to your knees, your thumbs rubbing soft circles. He watches, never tears his gaze away from your sticky hole, his nimble fingers working away the buckles and knots with practiced precision. You can see it in his eyes – memories of bedrolls by firelight, of such a deep painful, yearning ache, separated only by thin tarp, they are a physical weight beside you in this marriage bed. 

You see them because they’re there for you too. You see them because you've been here a dozen times, on your back, legs spread wide, your hands circling but never dipping, waiting. Wanting. For him. 

His bare chest is warm, the wings of his ribs expanding around short, half-drawn breaths, as he crawls up into your pliant mouth. The kisses are slow, like before, with a crackle of heat just beyond them, his hips slipping into the cradle of your thighs, the wet warmth of you separated by the thin linen of your dress. He sucks the tendon below your ear, a whine slipping out of your mouth, fingers spreading over the harsh planes of his back, and his cock bobs against your thigh. 

Pero is bare and warm and entirely yours. All man beneath the sweltering armor. 

“Amorcita,” he drips into your ear, kisses smeared against your collarbone, your mouth, your earlobe, “amorcita, amorcita . . . ranita, let me take you.” 

He starts to use teeth, a harder nip behind his kisses, when he dips down to your chest. A wide palm with stocky fingers grasps at your breast and it’s a startling sensation for you both. 

“Soft,” he moans before licking up under the supple curve of your breast, mouthing at what his tongue missed. He slips your erect nipple into his mouth and twists it between his teeth. “Sweet,” he murmurs with your nipple firmly between his lips. 

This is unlike anything you’ve felt before. You deliriously thank the gods that he hadn’t touched you like this on the road; you would have kept him, your own wild animal, in bed without rest for days on end.

Pero plucks just as aggressively at your other breast, the spit-wet nipple that preoccupied his mouth verging on purple and aching. He cups you from the outside this time, squeezing and massaging, ringing your nipple with his tongue until your back bows and you let out a whine that has his eyes flickering up to you, the scent of wounded prey filling his nostrils. 

That whine of pleasure elongates into a whimper: “please.”

“Tranquila, ranita.” His touch is softer around your bruised tits, but he keeps one hand bagging the weight of your breast while the other slips beneath your skirt.

The pads of his fingers brush your creamy cunt and with a yelp, you grab him by the wrist, your eyes open with a familiar emotion he draws out of you: rage.

“Pero Tovar, if you value your life you will take me under the covers and put your —,”

He chuckles, his cheek against yours, nose rimming the velvet hairs on the ridges of your ear. The vibrations liquify the tension in your bones, loosening your grip. Your eyes flutter, slick obviously running down his fingers. “Ranita, I don’t think you know how you want to end that sentence..”

His words roll like honey over the heat of your skin. It makes your skin tremble. Your grip tightens on his wrist and you roll your hips, your swollen clit finally relieved by the pressure of his palm. 

“Oh, oh, Pero—,” 

With a grunt, he shuffled closer, elbow by your shoulder and he cups your entire wet cunt in his hand, pushing the heel of his palm flatter against you. You cry out, a sparkling kind of pleasure radiating out from where his hand rests. You buck your hips faster, complete release flickering through your outstretched hand. 

“Can you come like this?” You nod, eyes squeezed shut as you barrel towards escape, and you feel him shudder next to you. You are intimately aware that he’s rubbing his cock on the crease of your hip bone but that only drags you faster towards the light. “Then come, ranita, come and I’ll fuck you.” 

The wet, curling heat growing between your legs descends, then in a bright snap, explodes across your body. 

“Fuck!” You tear open your eyes to find them damp, Pero’s massive hand cupping your cheek towards him, his stallion eyes dark as his fingers drag on the soaked material of your dress, your hips slowing. 

“Amorcita, breathe.” The words are torn from his chest, all cock-suredness gone from his frantic gaze. You gulp in air, the weight of his body over yours grounding and smothering you all at once. He pulls his hand away from you, rides it up your thigh to your waist, looking for something to hold onto. He strokes his thumb once against your overheated skin and you’re wriggling up out of your dress. 

“Help,” you hiss and his fingers nearly tear the fabric off you.

With a few undone buttons, you shiver out of your dress, the slick-drenched spots catching on your warm skin. He flings it behind him, near the fireplace. 

He takes you barely beneath the thick covers before you welcome him back to the heat of your open legs. 

But instead of reeling back and plunging his aching cock into you, he takes the time to kiss you. To praise you in all the ways he fears his mouth will end up short. He kisses you, grateful, reverent – wonderful to be swallowed by but also a distraction.

When he lifts your knees by his waist, your hips automatically tilt towards him and for the first time, you feel his red, sore cock between your tacky lips. The dual sensation nearly drags you over the rack of delectably delicious pleasure, as does his worn, broken groan in your ear. 

“More, please, don’t stop.” You cry against the bristles of his beard, his hand dropping between your sweat-slick bodies, finding yours already there to guide him. The press of him spreads you open, filling you one sinking notch at a time. The sensation of your pink, dripping walls moving to take more of him in has you arching up into his chest, nails dragging into his back. His dry lips stifle the moans escaping from your mouth. 

Pero takes both of your hands in his, dragging them above your head, his fingers locking your palms together as his hips roll forward. “Cálmate, amorcita, cálmate,” he murmurs between distracted presses of his mouth against your chin, your cheek, his breathing heavy and stunted. You writhe, pinned open by his hips and his hands, his cock filling you all too slowly and not fast enough. 

With the last few inches, you take him completely, your cunt throbbing, heart pounding, intoxicated by the sensation of being so maddeningly full. Pero drapes over you, his head tucked into your neck, forearms straining with the tension of gripping your hands tightly. 

“Santa madre . . .” He is not a warrior right now. He is but a man, cunt-drunk and heaving. 

His name is pushed out of the bottom of your lungs with the first swing of his hips. You cling to him, knees at his ribs, unwilling to let even an inch of space between your bodies. But this becomes increasingly difficult as his thrusts gain speed. His flushed lips stain a sticky line against your jaw, down to your throat, and he releases your hands, the oak of the bed creaking beneath the force of him drilling down into you, he props himself up on his palms, his shoulders bent and curled over you, biceps straining, hairline damp, eyelids fluttering. The scar on his cheek is flushed pink.

“Look, amorcita, look how well you take me.”

His words tear you from your nebulous high, the grit of them forcing your head down to the obscene squelch beneath the sheets. The thatch of rough curls over his groin is drenched in slick, his thick cock soaked to the point of shine as it drives into you again and again. The heavy draft of breath the sight steals from him, the tap of his cock against a place so deep you didn’t know your body possessed, draws the spooling bliss as tight as a wire. 

Your trembling thighs squeeze him tighter, that hot pressure rendering you speechless, except for the most pathetic whine. Please, Pero, please, you think, you mutter, you whisper, your body rocking damp against the sheets. 

With a sudden snarl, he takes the chunk of your hair at the base of your head flat in his fists and tugs. A shoot of bright pain sparks bliss down to your tight and bruised nipples, and you cry out again. 

“Stop fighting, puedo sentir cuanto la quieres. Let me have it.” It is the following word that splits you open like lighting carving apart a tree. “Please.”

The wail that you release is the rush of gooseflesh over your skin alchemized into audible sound. Heat radiates through you, sucking the air from your lungs, your vision going blurry, then black as you clamp your eyes shut against the rush, the final release, that curls you into his arms. His warm, flushed arms, shaking with strain. A final wobbly thrust or two and his elbows are buckling, sweat-drenched chest pressing into your own.

Distantly, you are aware of the warm, slick drip down your thighs, his cock pulsing the last drops into your cum-flecked cunt, and the dangers this sort of intimacy poses. You can’t gather enough breath, enough sense to settle the spinning room, to worry or even care. 

Your his, and he is yours. That is all that will ever matter. 

The crackle of wood burning is the only other sound than your ragged breaths, the silent roll of sweat from sticky hot skins into the bedsheets. The stone walls of the castle’s room entomb you together for a brief stretch of infinity.

Pero moves and you think he’s going to back out of you, but instead, he merely adjusts, his head fully on your chest, thick fingers clutching your bruised waist, the shift of his cock pushing more of his release out of your oversensitive cunt. But you’ll take overstimulation over his absence every time. You run your fingers through his damp curls and he hums. 

“I’m sorry,” he huffs into your humid skin. “I’m sorry I let my pride keep us apart for so long.” 

You grin lazily to the ceiling, your breath settling as affection takes its place in your chest. 

“You were not the only one blinded by vanity.” 

“But I’m not blind. Not anymore.” He lifts his head, eyes as dark as your spilled inkwell. “I am never letting you go.” 

You smile at him, fingers soft against the back of his neck. “I don’t plan on wandering away.” 

His oil-black gaze drops to your lips and he leans forward to take your mouth against his. Gentle, but with the promise of more. 

“Mi ranita,” he purrs to break the kiss. 

“You call me that all the time, Pero. What does it mean?”

At that, a nearly shy expression crosses his face. He shakes his head, shifting onto his elbows to lift off you. “I can’t tell you. It will ruin your good mood.” 

You gasp, offended, and you grab him by the ear and twist. He chuckles through a grimace. “You will tell me what that means, Pero Tovar, if you value your appendages.” 

“Órale, princesa, retract your claws and I will tell you.” 

You release your grip and settle against your pillow. Grinning bashfully, he kisses your neck briefly.

“Remember that I love you after I tell you this.” 

Your heart nearly stops, the absence of a steady beat nearly drawing tears to your eyes but you hold firm. You breathe deeply against the fluttering in your stomach and pin him with your glare. Of course, this is how he would profess his love to you – when he’s trying to get out of trouble. 

“Tell me, Tovar!”

He chuckles again and preemptively picks up your hands. He kisses the inside of your palms, settling himself between your thighs. 

“It means little frog.” Your mouth falls open in a gasp and you struggle to yank your hands back from him, hissing like a tea kettle, but he uses his weight to press down on you. He nips at your nose. “I call you that because when you’re upset with me, much like you are now, you puff up like a bullfrog, your cheeks like this–,”

He rounds his cheeks full of air, crossing his eyes, and you simply cannot take the slight anymore. You push roughly against his gut, the breath trapped in his mouth escaping in a hot puff, and you twist him onto his back. He lets you, of course, his bold, full laughter rendering him defenseless. His body shakes beneath you, his beautiful eyes squeezed shut, his mouth open wide as he laughs and laughs and laughs. You take him by the wrists and push his limp hands over his head, pinning him as he had you. You pinch his chin with your teeth, your messy cunt over his stomach, as his laughter subsides. 

“Have you had your fun yet?” 

“Barely,” he chuckles, turning his big nose against your cheek and inhaling. He hums.

“Is that all I am to you? A joke?”

Pero opens his eyes, sober as death rattle. He takes you in, not in a hungry, all-consuming way, but in a look that speaks of awe and rapture.

“You are everything to me.”

You sigh, releasing his hands and curling into his chest. He kisses the top of your head, your eyes on the roaring fire. His thumbs rub your shoulder blades, trace the lines of your spine.

“You’re so very lucky I love you too.” 

His wandering against the expanse of your back stills, just for a moment, before his fingers slide into your hair, around the nape of your neck, holding you to him with the intention of keeping you there forever.

“I know, ranita, I know.” 

He watches you sleep as the sky lightens beyond the tall windows on the opposite side of the bedroom. The dying fire traces your edges in gold, settling heat in the curve of your lips. 

His heart lurches with the wanting of you.

There’s more terrible things to come, he knows that. The plan the two of you concocted in the early morning hours will be dangerous, deadly even. But dying together instead of living apart would be much more tolerable, you told him earlier that night, your hand on his chest. 

He would kill if you asked. He would kill, even if you didn’t, to keep you safe and by his side. You’ve proven yourself capable of living a life away from this spectacular opulence, but it pains him to know he will never be able to give you anything nearly as lovely as the velvet dresses in the closet, the gold jewelry in your trunks. 

Instead, all he has to offer is himself. His strength, his hands, his heart. It’s his own fear that tells him that’s not enough, because you remind him again and again that’s more than you ever wanted. 

He traces the curve of your cheek with the hovering pad of his finger, brushing your hair away from your face. How he ended up so lucky with your love, he’ll never know, but he will spend the rest of his days proving that he’s earned it. 

You stir in your sleep, sensing him above you, and he hates to steal even a few minutes of blissful sleep from you, knowing the endless nights that are coming. When he steals you away from all that you’ve ever known. 

The sleepy grumble in your throat resembles his name as he curls around you, but your eyes remain gently closed. He pulls you against him, the air that leaves your mouth and sits between your chest and his something he covets with his whole heart. 

I love you and I’m disgustingly lucky and I love you. 

He is a man made of dust, serving men made of silver. He is a man of dust, loving a woman made of gold.

El orgullo? No, Abuela, his ranita will get him first, last, and every time.

+

Translations:

Sana sana culito de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanará mañana. - This rhyme is typically said to children when they have just hurt themselves. The parent (or grandparent) usually rubs the part that is sore and sings this little tune. Literally translates to: "heal, heal, little frog’s tail. If you don’t heal today, you will heal tomorrow."

el orgullo - pride

dulzura - sweetness, romantic connotation

amorcita - little love, romantic connotation

Tranquila - quiet, as in "be quiet" or "relax"

Cálmate - take it easy, or take it slow

puedo sentir cuanto la quieres - I can feel how much you want it/love it

Órale - okay, or an exclamation expressing approval or encouragement.

ranita - little frog, but you knew that already ;)

the rest are cognates (or familiar words) which you can probably guess the meaning of, but feel free to message me if you don't know!

#pero tovar #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x ofc #pero tovar smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pero tovar fanfiction #ppcu fanfiction #the great wall fanfic #pedro pascal #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar fanfic #pero tovar the great wall #tovar x you #tovar x reader #tovar x f!reader #tovar smut #tovar fanfiction #tovar imagine #pero tovar x fem!reader

[absurdthirst]

The Mercenary and the Whore {Pero Tovar x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 9.3k

Warnings: Sex work, prostitution, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, bathing Tovar, bath sex, riding, parting company, angst, confessions of love, oral sex (female receiving), mentions of child planning

Comments: When Pero Tovar comes to your brothel, he makes sure to monopolize your time. Wanting to spend every second he can between your thighs. Unable to tell you how he feels before he leaves for the East and you are sick with worry for your favorite client who is much more than that to you.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Pero Tovar MasterList ||

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

It’s getting closer to when he will arrive. The mornings are getting shorter, the chill of the air starting to make your breath a white cloud in front of you when you do what chores you need to before you have to work. He always comes when the weather turns. Once then, then again three months later. Sometimes he would visit often during the summer if he had taken work nearby. But he always came during the colder months. You anticipated his arrival, knowing he would monopolize your time and keep you from taking other clients. Pero Tovar was greedy for his time between your thighs and it left little time or energy for anyone else. 

Pero grunts at the matron of the brothel, giving her your name, and she nods, realizing who he is. He strides up the stairs, two at a time, his armor and weapons clanging, and finally he’s knocking on your door. When you answer, his stomach twists and he feels like he’s home. Something he would never admit to anyone else. He offers you a rare smile, saying your name. “Hola, hermosa.” He murmurs, his eyes trailing down your body, covered by the thin tunic but he knows what’s underneath, has dreamed about it since he last left your bed.

“I know you are eager to strip off your armor.” You purr, giving him a winsome smile and stepping back so he can push into the room that you live and work out of. It’s not ideal, being a whore, but it keeps the roof over your head and your belly full. All things that you had been in sore need of before you had arrived at this brothel. He won’t bathe yet, too desperate for you, and you will let him touch you despite the grime from the road. “It has been too long, Tovar.” 

“Too long, hermosa.” He murmurs, working on the ties to his armor as his cock starts to harden . Even just the smell of you has him aching for you. “I thought of you. Many nights.” He promises, not wanting to tell you about the days. Riding on his horse with his thoughts for company once William had run out of things to ramble on about, he thought about you and what you are up to. He sets his armor down and reaches for his tunic, pulling it over his head.

“You thought of me while you were between another woman’s thighs?” You have no delusions about this thing with Tovar. He pays for your cunt, even as well as he treats it and despite your own traitorous heart, he does not want a life with you. “That is not well done of you.” You chide playfully, pulling your thin tunic over your head so you are bare when he throws his own to the floor and glares at you. 

Tovar shakes his head, “no one else. There was men only and I am not that way inclined. Some are. I only dreamed of your wet cunt.” He promises, shoving his trousers down after kicking off his boots. When he’s bare before you, he steps closer to grab your ass, dragging you against him and he presses his nose into your neck. “Always smell delicious.”

Closing your eyes, your fingers find and tangle into his dirty hair. Not caring that it is slightly oily. You have him here, even if it is just for a week or so before he disappears again. “Just for you.” You hum, knowing that he enjoys the clean scent of your skin and the flowers that you press into the soap you use. Letting you scrub him with the same soap when he finally gets into the tub that will be brought to your room. “My wet cunt is ready for you.” 

Tovar slaps your ass and growls, ready for you and he will be rough this first time. Your pleasure won’t be his priority but he always makes it up to you in the sex following this frantic coupling. He guides you over to your cot, laying you down and he spreads your legs so he can see your dripping cunt. Humming in contentment, he slides his fingers through your slickness, “who made you this wet, chiquita?”

“You, Tovar.” You aren’t lying, although you can see that he doesn’t believe you. His shoulders are broad and his body is fit. The body of a mercenary, littered with scars and you know that one of the days he will occupy your bed, you will trace them making note of any new ones and fussing slightly over them. You whimper when he presses his fingers to the little nub beneath the curls of your sex. His cock is jutting out and the thick head is purple when he pulls the skin back. “How do you want to fuck me, Tovar? Like this? Or do you wish to watch my ass while you fill my cunt?”

“Yes.” He hisses, “from behind. Want to - fuck. Want to see your ass.” He murmurs and pulls his hand away, jerking himself slowly while you shift onto your hands and knees. He groans when he shuffles closer so he can notch his cock at your entrance and he pushes into you with a low whine, eyes closing as your hot walls envelop him.

You keen, always loving the pinch of pain when it comes to taking Pero for the first time after so long apart. You won’t claim that you are as tight as you were when you were innocent, but the Spaniard has a big cock. “Yes.” You moan, eyes rolling back when his hips hit your ass and he's buried to the hilt. “Missed this cock, Tovar.” You admit breathlessly. “Now,” you look over your shoulder. “Ride me hard and work out the need you have for me.”

Tovar groans, low and loud as he twitches inside of you. “It’s been too long without this exquisite cunt, hermosa.” He murmurs as he caresses your spine until he’s gripping your hips, grinding impossibly deeper before he pulls out. Pushing back inside in a quick motion, he sets a harsh pace, grunts escaping his lips as he watches your ass jiggle and your asshole flutter as he pushes deep into your cunt.

Tovar’s pace takes your breath away, all you can do is moan and hold on. Making sure he does not push you too far forward onto the cot. You love how frantic he always is this first time, the ache he leaves you with always growing with each time he takes you after. Long after his last time, you will feel him between your thighs even after you have bathed away the sweat and cum, washed your sheets and taken another man. If you could, you would daydream about the dark, dangerous mercenary with a long scar on his left eye while you are under another man as he grunts away. “So good, b-Tovar.” He doesn’t like you using pet names with him, so you don’t flatter him like you might another customer.

“Always good.” Tovar groans, his fingers digging into your flesh until they slide up to cup your tits. He bends over your body, enjoying how you clench around him, and he’s close. He goes months without a hot cunt around him so he struggles to last during his first encounter with you. “Hermosa. I- I won’t last. Where?” He asks, always wanting to make sure you decide.

“Inside.” You rarely go a day without drinking the tea that will prevent a child and you know how much he hates to pull out of your body to spill his seed. Unless he is in your mouth or wants to paint your skin with it when he is feeling particular. “Fill my cunt up and show me how much you have missed it.” 

“Shit.” Pero curses, his eyes clenched shut as he buries himself deep and spills his hot seed onto your walls, a low groan escaping his lips. “Fuck.” He pants, slowly rocking his hips as he rides his pleasure and he leans in to kiss your shoulder. “Gracias, hermosa.”

You smile and hum, looking over your shoulder at his panting frame. “Always my pleasure.” You tell him, knowing that even if you did not experience pleasure this time, you will several times before he leaves again. The first time with him is always quicker than the rest. He says it’s because your cunt is so good and it’s been so long since he’s had it that he cannot pace himself. 

He caresses your back and presses kisses to your skin. Beyond your doors, he is a hardened killer, a survivor, but with you, he is soft and gentle. He allows himself to be tender with you. Unbeknownst to you, he leaves his heart with you when he leaves but he would never confess that.

Your eyes flutter with pleasure. He always touches you in small ways that makes your heart quake and you fall deeper for a man you could never have. When he finally pulls his softening cock out of your cunt, you shift to your side and look at him. “Do you want me to have the bath and a meal sent up?” You ask, knowing his preferred method of relaxing.

Tovar nods, shifting to lay down on the bed and he stares at you, admiring your features. You’ve always been so gorgeous and he loves how you make him feel. He wants to feel like this all the time but he can’t. He has to sell his sword. “Have you been busy?” He asks, running his knuckles along your spine.

“Busy enough.” You shrug one shoulder and roll your eyes. “A group of Lord Crowley’s men came in a month ago.” You tell him. “Luckily it was my monthly, they put Adrina and Gwen out of work for nearly two weeks.” The men had been brutal and it had taken time for their injuries to heal.

Pero frowns, his touch freezing on your skin. He worries about you when he’s away, scared that the next time he returns he won’t find you because someone strangled you during a passionate encounter. “Men are animals. They do not realize how lucky they are to have a beautiful woman in their company. They should pleasure, not harm.” He shakes his head and worries that you will get hurt by someone one day.

“Most men do not think like you.” You remind him. “They only think of their own pleasure and Crowley’s lot have no control because their lord is just as bad.” You know that you were lucky to have been indisposed and because of that, you had shared your pay with the two girls while they were recovering.

“Bastards.” Pero hisses, shaking his head again. “They should be killed.” He murmurs, knowing he’d love the pleasure to kill them but he doesn’t have a reason to hunt them down and he doesn’t want to leave your side until he has to. “Are you hungry?” He asks, wanting you to eat if you’re hungry.

You smile, knowing he must be hungry if he is making hints. You lean in and kiss his cheek because you don’t allow kissing, not even Tovar. “I will go order your bath and meals.” You tell him before you climb off your cot and stand, reaching for your tunic to shrug on. You can clean up his seed when you come back. “Do you want ale too?” 

“Is that even a question?” He scoffs playfully and you giggle, making him smile. He winks at you and watches you disappear out of the room to tell the matron to bring the tub and the meals. He will happily pay for your meals while he is in your company.

Coming back up the stairs, you meet a giggling pair of your friends. “So we will not see you for at least a week?” Gwen asks. “We saw Tovar bolt up the stairs to your bed.” 

Adrina nods, smirking at you. “It is funny that he stays so long since I have already pleasured William and he is now drinking. I think your Spaniard is in love with you.” 

You scoff and shake your head, your cheeks burning and wishing that it were true. “He just enjoys my touch.” You tell the girls, adopting a saucy wink. “He is a creature of habit, if he had found your bed first you would be the one having your time taken up.”

The girls shake their heads at your naïveté but they don’t push their thoughts on you anymore. Pero looks up when you come back into the room and his stomach twists with the way you look at him. He doesn’t want to leave for even a second. “You’ve ordered food for yourself too?” He checks, wanting to make sure you are fed before he has you again.

“I did.” He is too generous to you sometimes, making sure you eat a proper meal while he is with you. Some men who spend hours with you don’t care if you even drink at all while they are with you, but Pero makes sure your needs are met. You move over to the wash basin and smile over your shoulder. “The bath and the meals will be up shortly. Are you already ready for the next round or should I clean up?”

Pero shakes his head, “you can clean up, hermosa. We have plenty of time. I want to talk. Tell me about how you’ve been - business aside.” He demands, wanting to listen to you talk.

“Agnes had her baby, he is so adorable.” You clean up while you talk. “I got to see him the next day, and since the baby is a boy, Eldon has decided that he would claim the babe as his own.” You don’t think much of that, but Agnes was happy. “They married when the boy, Caspian, was two months old. She moved into the house with him and his mother. We haven’t seen much of her, except when we run into her at the shops. Eldon doesn’t want her visiting with us now that she’s married.”

Pero is surprised to hear that the man took the babe on but he is glad to hear it. “He should allow her to see her friends.” Pero says, “but at least he did the decent thing and married the girl.” Pero says, knowing that it’s always a risk to get a whore pregnant but most men would abandon their bastards and leave the village.

“Yes, she’s allowed to attend church.” You roll your eyes and huff. The priest loudly damned you all to hell every time he saw you on the streets but he would sneak in the back several times a month. Thankfully, he had never come to your bed. “But at least Caspian has been baptized.”

Pero snorts, “I am not a religious man, hermosa. We sin and we die.” He says, knowing his devoutly Catholic mother would be turning in her grave but he doesn’t believe God would be so cruel as to allow some of the sins he has seen committed, some of his own doing. “You…you are my angel.” He says softly, averting his eyes.

“Then I will be your angel.” Your heart softens and you wish that you had met Pero under other circumstances. Despite his claims he would be a horrible husband, you know he would not. He’s gruff, yes, but he’s also tender. You often daydream of a little cottage, making a soft, warm home for him to rest in when he comes home. The knock on your door makes you smile, “and now your angel brings you food.” You tell him as you walk to the door to open it.

“Finally.” Pero grunts playfully and you look back at him before you open the door. The trays are carried in and Pero covers himself with the sheet while the tub is brought in with the steaming buckets of water. “We will fill it ourselves.” You tell Gwen, knowing she came in to see how Pero was lingering in your room. 

“Of course.” She says, offering you a smirk that makes Pero frown, wondering what the look was for. 

“I am starving.” Tovar groans as you set the tray down in front of him.

“Eat then.” You tell him with a small smile as his eyes roam greedily over the overloaded tray. You make sure that Pero’s portions are generous because you have seen how the man loves his food. “I will fill the tub and it can be cooling slightly while you eat.”

He nods, knowing his mama raised him with better manners but it’s been too long since he had a hot meal and he eagerly digs in. Shoveling the food into his mouth as you pour the buckets into the tub.

You hum as you set out your soap and get some of your drying cloths. You know he will want to soak in the bath, and you don’t blame him. Moving over to claim your own tray, although you hand him the bread, since he has already devoured his. You normally don’t eat it anyway, and rarely take any.

Pero knows what you are doing and he doesn’t like it. Knowing you’ll protest, he splits the bread in half and hands you back the larger piece. “You’ll need your energy.” He reasons with you and you nod, taking the bread from him. He hums in satisfaction and digs back into the stew.

He eats fast, as if it might be stolen from him. Your own meal is eaten at a more sedate pace. “How was your travels?” You ask him, as if you were his wife inquiring about his trip while he is home. “William kept out of trouble?”

Tovar snorts, “you know he can never keep himself out of trouble. Always has to show off and it gets us in trouble.” Pero shakes his head, “and then I have to save his ass. We made it back though. With plenty of coins. Always the main thing.” He says and proceeds to suck and lick his fingers clean. His mama raised him with manners, doesn’t mean he always used them.

“That is good.” You never pry about the money he spends while he is here, but it is a lot. Monopolizing your entire days while he is in your bed, he even sleeps in your room. Not that you mind. His arms wrapped around you and his face tucked into your neck while he snores softly is the safest you ever feel. “How long are you here?”

“It depends. The winter is coming and we need to earn enough coin before we seek shelter for the snow. I am thinking at least a week. More, if William can keep himself out of trouble.” Pero chuckles, “are you going to take other men?” He asks softly, wanting to know where you stand beforehand.

“While you are here?” You scoff and shake your head. “I would not have the time or the energy.” You tease him playfully. In truth, you would happily never let another man between your thighs if you could have Pero, but that was not something that was possible. He was a mercenary and you are a whore.

Pero is reassured, worried that you’d go off while he is sleeping or bathing. It’s selfish but he wishes to keep you all to himself, prepared to pay whatever it takes. “I want to bathe.” He says and stands up from the bed, the sheet falling from his body and he moves fast to step into the hot water, a low groan escaping his lips. “Do you wish to join me, hermosa?”

“What if I wash you?” You ask, finishing up your own meal and moving the trays to the door to place outside. You remove your tunic and walk naked to the tub. “When you are clean, I will join you and mount your cock while you soak in your bath.”

Tovar nods, grabbing the bar of soap so he can begin cleaning himself up. “Can you cut my hair, hermosa?” He asks, wanting to smarten up to be in your company for a week.

You had expected his request. He always wants to have his hair cut and shaved. Humming as you get out your scissors, you kneel down by the bathtub. Running your fingers through his hair and start to cut.

He tilts his head and lets you snip away at the matted locks, enjoying your fingers massaging his head and you grab the soap once you’re done to wash his hair. He groans, closing his eyes as your fingers work his scalp and his cock starts to harden at the ministrations.

“You need someone to take care of you.” You chide softly, massaging his scalp and enjoying the way that he groans. “I can see you enjoying being treated well by a wife, or mistress.”

Pero snorts, his fingers gripping the edge of the tub. “Who would wish to be mine? I am the son of a farmer from Seville. I have been selling my sword since I was fourteen when my parents died and I had nothing. I am a nobody. I own nothing. I do not have a home for a wife or a mistress.”

Your fingers still in his hair and you want to tell him that you would want to be his. Although he would not want a whore. “You will have a home one day.” You predict. “You will stop coming to see me because you have a wife with a babe under her apron and a warm bed to sleep in.”

Pero frowns, not liking to think of a life without you in it. He doesn't answer and he allows you to rinse his hair and he already feels so much better. You grab the scissors again and work on chopping off the excess beard that had become matted during his travels. "You are too good to me, hermosa." He murmurs as you grab the sharp knife to begin styling his mustache.

“You are good to me as well.” You remind him, arching a brow at him playfully before you look back down at his face as you cut the tiny hairs over his lip. Your fingers brushes his lips gently and you hum in satisfaction and lean back. “Now, so handsome.” You tell him, completely honest. He’s one of the most handsome men to you, even more appealing than William.

He blushes slightly under your intense stare and he averts his eyes as you set down the knife. “Are you joining me?” Pero asks and you nod, stepping into the tub and you straddle him, his cock now hard and aching for you. “Hermosa.” He sighs in bliss, his hands caressing your back and he leans in to nudge his nose against yours.

“You don’t have to flatter me.” You promise, whispering the words between you, and your fingers toy with the curly ends of his now shorter hair. “I want to ride you slowly.” You admit, knowing he might prefer a faster pace. “Let you relax while I do all the work, milking your cock for you.”

He can't argue with you, nodding slowly as you reach beneath you to grip his cock. You sink down onto him after notching him at your entrance and you take his breath away. "Fuck." He sighs, tilting his head back at the feel of your warm, soft cunt enveloping him.

Moaning yourself, you take advantage of the vulnerable skin of his throat, leaning in and pressing your lips to his pulse as you grind down on his length. Feeling him pulse inside you as your walls flutter. “Your cock is so good.” You praise, kissing along his jaw and neck while he relaxes into the bath. Making sure that you don’t slosh water too badly, you start at a slow pace that seems to let you feel every vein in his cock.

"Your cunt - it's incredible." Pero murmurs, caressing your spine and he imagines a lifetime with you, relaxing in a warm home...you as his wife. You with his child. It's a beautiful dream but one he can never have. He's a dangerous man who has sinned. His blood soaked hands could never have you as their prize.

Soft groans and ripple of the water is what fills the room. The moment is so tender you wish you could break your rule and press your lips to his. It’s almost love making, although you have never experienced that, you think it would be like this. His hands running over your skin and the soft grunts of pleasure making you moan.

He wants to call you 'amor' but he doesn't know if you'll understand him and he can't take that risk. His cock twitches inside of you and he ducks his head to take your nipple into his mouth after cupping your tit and lifting it towards his face.

You whimper when his teeth scrap over the sensitive skin, your fingers tangling into his shorter hair and tugging gently. “So good, Pero.” You moan, not even realizing you called him by his first name. You normally just call him Tovar because that is what he told you the first time he had visited your bed. You use his Christian name when you are touching yourself thinking about him.

He groans into your flesh, wrapping his lips around the nipple and biting down before he soothes it with his tongue. His other hand squeezes your other breast and he leans back, pushing them together with his palms. "So fucking beautiful." He rasps, cock twitching inside of you.

You moan again. “Pero, fuck.” You love how attentive he is, one of the few men you’ve ever had to care about your pleasure. You circle your hips and clench him right. “Love how you feel.”

His hand slides down your body to your clit. He was taught during his first sexual encounter with a whore to pleasure a woman and he’s never forgotten, wanting to feel that delicious tight grip on his cock. He wants you to cum so he finds that bundle of nerves and rubs circles around it.

“Ohhh, ohhh fuck.” Your own head tilts back, enjoying the pressure against the bundle of nerves and your hips jerk in response. “Pero, I- oh baby, I’m gonna soak you.” You warn breathlessly.

"That's it, hermosa. Come on, soak my cock." He grunts, thrusting his hips up so he can push even deeper and he groans your name when your walls start to flutter around his cock.

You fall forward into his chest, pressing your face into his neck and moaning as you hang on. “Oh, oh Perooooooo!” You cry out, your cunt clenching down around him.

He groans when you clamp down on his cock, making him hiss your name, and he swears he nearly cums right then but he holds strong. He strokes your back as you shake above him and he kisses along your neck.

Your hips rock as you force yourself to keep moving, loving how each roll of your hips shoots another little fissure of pleasure down your spine. “Cum for me, Pero.” You beg, “fill me up again.”

He can’t deny you, his hand leaving your clit and his hand squeeze your ass, slapping it as he rocks up into you. Water sloshes and he groans your name, so close to his orgasm. “Fuck, hermosa. I’m gonna - I’m gonna -” He pants and squeezes his eyes shut as he cums, painting your walls for the second time.

You whimper, enjoying the rush of heat as he fills you. Always loving how thick and how much Pero cums. You run your hands through his hair and sigh softly as he rocks himself through his pleasure as you flutter around him.

He buries his face in your neck, breathing you in with a deep inhale, and he swears he could die right now and be a happy man. You’re his sanctuary and he never wants to leave this moment. “Gracias, hermosa.” He murmurs into your skin, feeling more relaxed than he has in many moons.

“Anytime.” You promise, closing your eyes and laying your head on his shoulder while he holds you close. “I am happy you are here. You are safe.”

Pero doesn’t respond, knowing that any day could be his last. He caresses your spine and enjoys the feeling of holding you close. “Come on, hermosa. The water will get cold and I don’t want you becoming ill.” He says and pulls away from you.

You lift off his cock and quickly clean yourself up and swipe the cloth over his groin as well before you stand up, wrapping another cloth around your body before holding his. “Do you want me to dry you?” You ask, wanting to make sure he is relaxed and enjoying himself with you.

Pero shakes his head, “No gracias, hermosa. I can dry myself.” He offers you a wry smile and stands up once you’re out of the tub. He takes the cloth you hand him and he dries off, suddenly exhausted. “I want to sleep. Can you lay with me?” He asks, wanting to wrap himself around you.

It is times like these that you feel you cheat Pero. He pays good coin for your company and he wishes to sleep? “Of course.” You nod, moving to set the trays outside the door and hang your cloth up to dry. You will sleep nude and you are thankful you had fresh sheets on your cot. He deserves a good rest in a clean bed. “Anything you wish.”

He hums in delight when he lays down and you lay down beside him, pulling the sheets over you both. His arm wraps around you and he nuzzles his nose into your neck, breathing you in until he’s softly snoring into your ear.

You stay awake for a long time after Pero starts to snort. Holding him close in the dark as the sounds of the brothel filter dully through the walls. Closing your eyes and imagining the sounds of the woods, animals outside of a small cottage. Cozy and secluded, just the two of you, together every night. You fall asleep and dream of Pero.

**** 

“Fuck, hermosa.” Pero groans when you clench around him. His eyes watch you as you gyrate above him and he slides his hands up to cup your tits. “So fucking beautiful.” He murmurs, his dark eyes nearly black with lust. He has spent every moment in the past week with you aside from the hour he left to speak to William. He isn’t sure if he wants to leave when the time comes but he has to. He needs to earn more coins.

Riding Pero has always been something that you enjoy but this week you have been frantic for it. “So fucking good.” You moan, leaning back and letting him play with your tits. “God, Tovar, you are so perfect inside me.” You’re greedy, knowing he will be leaving today or tomorrow so you want him to remember this.

"Fuck, hermosa. Amor." He pants, lost in the pleasure and unable to think about anything but you. He moans your name again and wraps his arms around you, dragging you into his chest. He thrusts up into you, wanting you to cum for him, and he buries his face in your neck.

Your moan is loud, gasped out when he calls you amor, although you try to reason that he is caught up in the sex. Your arms tighten around him and you whimper his name. “Perooooo.” His cock hits perfectly inside you and you shatter, clenching down around him like a vice as you soak him with your juices.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” He growls, his fingers digging into your flesh as he thrusts up into you, moaning your name and it doesn’t take him long to cum. Painting your walls for the umpteenth time, he bites down on your shoulder to stop himself saying the words that linger on the tip of his tongue.

“Pero. Pero, oh god.” You cling to him, making your eyes and panting breathlessly at how good it feels. Your eyes water behind your lids and you bite your lip to keep from weeping. You know he is leaving and you don’t think you can bear it.

He caresses your back, kissing the spot he just sunk his teeth into, and he relaxes beneath you. Pulling you down to rest on his chest, he doesn’t say a word, wanting to enjoy this last time before he has to leave.

You sense the fact that he doesn’t want to talk so you snuggle into his embrace and sigh softly. Listening to his head beat in his chest and his breathing whoosh in and out slowly after he catches his breath. Wondering when he is going to leave and how you are going to handle not seeing him again anytime soon.

Pero isn’t sure how long he lays there, now soft but still inside of you, and he breathes you in until there’s a knock at the door. He groans, not liking his peace being disturbed, but you pull off of him and grab your tunic, pulling it over your head so you can open the door. William stands there and nods at you, peeking his head in at his Spanish companion. “It’s time, brother.” Pero nods, stomach twisting as he shifts from under your crumpled sheets to begin getting ready to leave.

Your heart plummets to the floor and you want to slam the door closed and pretend William isn’t there, but there would be no point. Pero isn’t yours. He wasn’t going to stay with you. You bite your lip and look towards Pero. “I will have them pack a bag of food for the road.” You announce before you rush down the stairs, leaving the two men to talk.

Pero speaks to William about the plan to venture East to find the black powder and he isn’t sure if he likes the idea but the coins sound too good to turn down. He would be set for life. He could return to you, marry you, start a life with you. He nods when William tells him to get ready and he takes his time dressing, looking up at you when you step into your room.

“Your food will be ready when you go down to saddle your horse.” You hate the sight of him strapping his armor to his body. The thick leathers changed him from lover to ruthless mercenary. Instead of crying, you move to the water bowl to clean yourself. You will have to go back to work after he leaves, taking other men into your bed.

After finishing tying his boots, Pero stands up to face you. “Gracias, amor. Por todo.” He says and reaches for you to drag you into his chest, his hand cupping the back of your head to keep you as close as possible.

You hate how cold the leathers are, wishing to feel his body again. “Safe travels.” You murmur against his chest. You can’t ask when you will see him again, it is not your place.

Pero slides his hands down your body, committing it to memory, and he leans in to nudge his nose against yours, desperately wishing to kiss you but he knows you have your rules.

You almost do it. You lean in to kiss him but he knows you have to keep that off the table. Instead, you nudge his nose back and inhale steadily. “Be safe, Pero.” You murmur quietly. “I will see you then next time you decide to see me.”

He nods as he pulls back and he stares at you for a moment. “Hasta luego, hermosa.” He murmurs and grabs his satchel, walking away before he falls to his knees and begs you to let him stay.

“Goodbye, Pero.” You murmur softly, watching him walk out the door and listening for his boots thumping on the stairs before your tears start to fall.

It takes everything in him to leave on his stead alongside the Irishman who knows the feelings Pero has for you. He knows you are the woman he loves and he understands why Pero cannot take you as his own. The Spaniard is a complicated man and his emotions are even more chaotic. "She will be there when you come back." William says and Pero just grunts his response.

**** 

He must be dead. Your heart aches every time someone comes to your bed and it’s not him. Every time the door opens and it’s not the Spaniard, your sighs get a little heavier. Your friends have worried about you as you silently grieve. Pero has either fallen on a battlefield or he has found a wife like he deserved. Either way, the time for him to visit had come and gone four times. A year has passed and you finally admit to yourself that you will never see him again.

Pero looks up at the sky before he steps into the brothel. He’s been gone a year. It’s been a long time and he has gone through so much in the past twelve months. He gives your name at the desk and the matron looks weary but escorts him to your room, knocking on your door and Pero inhales sharply at his first glance at you after so long. “Hola amor.” He murmurs, his heart pounding in his chest.

You freeze, shocked at the sight of Pero in your doorway, looking tired but whole. “You are alive.” You choke out, sure that you would never see him again. You had cried so many nights when your last client had left your bed and the seasons had changed with no word from him. Swallowing harshly, you wonder why he is here now.

“Lo siento, amor.” Pero feels guilty that he didn’t send a rider to give you warning of his arrival but he’d been a little busy trying to not die in the far east. The matron glances between you and decides to leave you to it. Pero shuffles from one foot to the other, waiting for you to make a move.

You bite your lip, trying not to cry because all you want to do is hold him close and kiss him. Then slap his face because he worried you so badly. Clearing your throat, you send him a bland smile. “I am sure you are wanting a meal and a bath?” You ask, trying to keep things as they were before. “You must have been very busy.”

He can tell you’re not happy with him and he frowns, “that would be nice.” He nods and you step aside to let him into your room. “How have you been, hermosa?” He asks softly once he’s sitting down:

“I have not been the best.” You admit with a careless shrug. “I was feeling poorly early this year.” You move towards the door so you can order his bath and meal, none for yourself. “But I have survived.”

Pero frowns even more at that news, worried that he could’ve lost you before he returned. “Good. Always good to survive.” He offers you a small smile that you don’t return and you leave to go order his meal and bath. He sighs, rubbing his neck, and when you come back, he takes out the coins he had in his purse. “I want to pay for your company for a week.” He says, holding the pouch out towards you.

Your hand reaches out while you stare at him. Taking the payment for your body without even really reacting to it, beyond your heart breaking. The confirmation that it had never been more than a physical release for him. You look down at the decidedly heavy pouch for a moment before you reach back and heave it towards him as hard as you can. “I do not want your coins!” You yell, tears immediately flooding your eyes and you are blinded by them.

Pero’s eyes widen and he catches the pouch from his quick reflexes, watching you start to sob. “I- I’m sorry, hermosa. I’ll go. I won’t - I will leave you alone. I thought you wanted me here but apparently you wish for me to leave. I’m sorry. I’ll go.” He promises with a choke, heart breaking as you reject him.

“I- I thought you were dead!” You sob, rushing forward and slamming your fists against his leather covered chest. “M-my heart was broken and you-you walk back in as if a year hasn’t passed and pay for my cunt.” You know you aren’t making sense, you are just a whore to him, but he was your love. You loved him, love him still.

He reaches for your wrists, trying to stop you from hitting him. He pulls back to look at you, “amor. Amor. What - I was in China. I nearly died and I couldn’t get word to you. I- I wanted to return to you. Every night. Wanted to come home to you. I needed the coins so I could lay down my sword and return to you, to give you all of me.”

“Liar.” You sob, shaking your head and trying to pull away from his grip. He won’t let you go and you hate how much you are crying. “If-if you wanted to be with me, you would not offer coin.” You stop struggling and collapse against his chest. “I do not want your coin, I want your heart.” You whimper.

Pero’s chest clenches with frustration and he pulls you into his chest, “you have always had my heart. Since the first week I spent in your company. I gave you my coin, I give you my coin, because I wish to take care of you even in my absence, even when I cannot be here. I wish to provide for you because I - because I love you.”

You close your eyes and sob even harder. In relief, in distress for time that you have missed out on. “I love you, Pero.” You whisper. “Mi amor.” You know that you had been foolishly telling yourself that he had not meant it when he called you his love, you hadn’t dreamed to hope. “I have been saving every coin I could, wishing to leave this life behind.” You confess. “I did not think you could love a whore.”

“I don’t love a whore. I love you. Whatever you do, who you are…means nothing to me. I love you.” He murmurs, caressing your cheeks and he leans in to press his forehead against yours. “Can I kiss you?” He asks, wanting to feel your lips against his for the first time.

You lick your lips, finding them dry as you press closer. “Yes.” You moan softly. “Kiss me, Pero. I need you to kiss me.” You know that you haven’t kissed much, but he is the only man you want to kiss, to touch you, from now on.

Pero leans in, pressing his lips to yours, and it’s a little awkward. He’s never been an affectionate lover until he met you and now he’s aching for your kiss, for your touch. “Te amo.” He murmurs against your lips before he cups your cheek, tilting your head so he can deepen the kiss.

You moan into the kiss, your cunt clenching when his tongue slides into your mouth. Sliding your hands up to tangle into his long hair, you pull him close and kiss him back just as fiercely.

His hands let go of your wrists so he can slide his hands down to grab your waist. It’s sloppy and clumsy as he slides his tongue against yours but he feels like he’s home. He feels like the battles he’s endured have been worth it to just have this moment with you in his arms.

When the kiss breaks, both of you are panting softly. “I love you.” You murmur again. “I- I want you to leave with me.” You sigh. “I want to leave the brothel and find a village where I can just be another woman.”

“I have coins, hermosa. That’s why I left. I wanted to return to you with enough coins for us to build a home together in a village. Get married.” He reveals and he lets go of you, fumbling as he reaches beneath his tunic to pull his gold chain out. He takes it off and reveals the ring he has worn there since he left. “It was my mother’s. I want - I want you to have it. For you to be my wife. Will you?” He asks, eyes widen and lower lip pouting as he waits for your answer.

“Pero….” You gasp, looking down at the simple, yet beautiful ring and then back up into his eyes. “I, yes, of course I will marry you.” You promise, beaming before you lunge forward and press your lips to his again.

He feels relieved and happy, for the first time in a long time, he’s happy. His lips press against yours and he pulls back for a moment so he can slide the ring onto your finger. “I need you, amor.” He murmurs, the fire growing in his belly as his desire for you comes to the forefront.

“You always need to fuck me when you come back from the road.” This time, you are giggling as you pull back and take his hand, dragging him towards your cot. “Come, amor, I have missed you between my thighs.” You admit. “And you will be the last man between them so you should service me well.”

“Not yet.” He murmurs, gently pushing you away. “I want to be clean for my wife. Have them to bring the tub and let me clean up before we lay together. I don’t want to risk you.” He says, knowing he had to care more for your well-being now - the woman that he would lay down and die for.

Your brow raises but you do not argue. Instead, you kiss him once more and rush to the door, eager to have the bath brought in. He loves you. He wants to take you away from here and have a life together. You bring up a pail of water yourself, rushing the boys who brought the tub and other buckets inside out the door and latch it behind them.

Pero works fast to strip off, sinking down into the tub after helping you pour the water in and he groans when the steam curls up around him. “Amor, can you cut my hair again?” He asks timidly, almost shy now you have his ring on your finger.

“Of course I can.” You nod as you move towards the scissors, getting them out and smiling as he relaxes and leans back against the rim. “I like your hair shorter and your beard trimmed.” You admit. “But I will take you however I can get you.” Kneeling down behind him, you pull off your tunic and run your fingers through his hair to start cutting it.

Pero smiles softly, "even with my scars?" He asks and you nod, "especially with your scars." Pero's heart thumps and he reaches for your hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss the back of it. "I love you." He murmurs and you caress his cheek before you continue working on chopping off his hair.

Once you are done, you wet his hair down and lather soap into it. Smiling when he groans and leans back. Enjoying your fingernails scrubbing his scalp. “Does it feel good, amor?”

“Sí, hermosa.” Pero murmurs, closing his eyes as you wash his hair. “I want to do this for you.” He says, cock twitching when your nails scrap his scalp. He loves it. You finish washing his hair and work on trimming off the excess beard. Pero drinks you in, admiring your features, the way you bite your lip as you concentrate.

When the soap is wiped clean from his face, you smile, running a finger down his cheek. “So handsome.” You coo, “do you want me to wash you as well?” You ask, even as you reach for the clothe and the soap again. The quicker he is clean, the quicker he can touch you.

Pero nods, wanting your touch even though it’s selfish to make you wash him. He groans your name as you start to drag the cloth over his skin and his cock starts to harden. “Te amo.” He murmurs, watching you and his hand comes up to cup your breast.

You moan softly when he squeezes your breast. “Te amo.” You murmur in response, your heart bursting with happiness. You will let Pero rest as long as he needs, but then you will venture to find a place to settle, to build a life together. Your hand wraps around his now clean cock and you pump him gently.

“Mierda.” Pero groans when you squeeze him and he shakes his head, “amor. I want - I want to be inside of you. Please. Let me get out.” He says, pulling your hand off of his cock.

You’re surprised that he doesn’t want you to ride him in his bath, but perhaps he wants this time to be in the cot. Something more meaningful than the times before. You still pout as you stand and reach for the drying cloth as he steps out of the tub.

Pero quickly dries himself off and tosses the cloth aside, reaching for you. He pulls you into his chest, his hard cock trapped between you, and he cups your cheek with one hand as he leans in to press his lips to yours.

It’s softer and sweet, yet the kiss makes you moan. Knowing that this is real. That Pero is here and wants to make you his wife. Your arms wrap around his neck and it’s you that starts to guide him back towards your cot. “I need you.” You beg breathlessly.

Pero needs you too. Desperately. You’re all he has thought about for months. He murmurs your name as he shifts to lay you down on the cot. “Let me make love to you, amor.” He pleads softly, leaning down to wrap his lips around your nipples after positioning himself between your thighs. “I want to taste you.”

“Pero…” you start to protest, knowing that it has been only a day since the last man had been between your thighs but he silences you with a look. You’ve bathed since then, so you lean back and let him do what he wishes with you.

He spreads your thighs as he kisses down your stomach, cock twitching with the thought that it will someday be full of his child, and he inhales deeply when he settles between your thighs. “Fuck, such a pretty cunt.” He mumbles, his hands caressing your soft skin and he leans in to slide his tongue through your folds, not wanting to waste another second.

You keen, back arching your hips would rock up if it weren’t for his body and strong arms pinning you down. “Pero!” You’ve never felt a man’s tongue on your cunt and it’s a delicious sensation.

He knows this is something he will be doing again and again now that you are his. His tongue pushes deep into your walls and he groans as his nose presses against your clit, curling his tongue until he’s pulling back to flick it over your bundle of nerves.

Your eyes close and your fingers twist into the sheets as you start to chant his name. Already close to cumming and finding it to be so much better than his fingers rubbing your clit. “So good.”

He sucks on your clit, desperately wanting you to cum for him. He groans your name into your flesh and pushes two fingers into your cunt as he sucks on your clit a little harder.

“Pero!” Your scream is loud, letting everyone in the brothel hear as you come apart for him. Thighs shaking around his head and your cunt locking down around his fingers while pleasure rushes through your body.

He nearly cums when you gush around his digits but he keeps working his fingers inside of you to keep you pleasured until you’re pushing his head away. He kisses along your thighs as you pant, your chest heaving, and he kisses your stomach up to your breasts, pressing kisses on every inch of skin.

“I love you.” You whimper softly, running your fingers through his hair and smiling softly. You press your lips to his just as soon as he is close enough. Tasting yourself on his lips and humming at the sensation. “I love you so much.”

He smiles against your jaw, “I love you too, mi esposa.” He murmurs and shuffles between your thighs. Reaching down to grip his cock, he pulls back his foreskin and swipes the head against your clit. You whine and he chuckles, positioning himself at your entrance and slowly pushing into you with a low groan.

He feels even bigger, better than he ever had. It might just be your imagination, but it feels that way. Moaning softly, you pull your legs back to take him even deeper until he is buried inside you. “After we marry, I can stop drinking my tea if you would want.” You offer breathlessly, imagining being filled with his baby.

“Yes. Fuck, yes. I want - I want that.” He confesses, imagining you full of his baby has him stopping to control himself. He leans in to nudge his nose against yours, his breathing heavier. “Mi amor. Mi esposa. Mi vida. La madre de nuestros niños.” He murmurs, lost in thoughts of the future until he starts to slowly rock his hips.

“Yes.” You moan quietly. Wrapping your legs around him and sighing softly as he treats you as if you are made of glass. You can feel everything, and it’s exquisite.

He moves slowly inside of you, not wanting to rush this. He murmurs your name again and again, like a prayer, as he makes love to you. His ring on your finger as it glistens in the candlelight and his heart pounds in his chest.

This moment is one that you want to remember forever. Every kiss, ever whispered word of love between. You caress his face and look up at him, finding him even more handsome than ever.

He has fought long and hard to return to you, his lover, his reason for fighting so hard. He rocks into you, his hand gripping yours and he wants to hear the sweet cries of your orgasm. He shifts his weight to one forearm and slides his hand between you so he can rub your clit.

“Pero.” You gasp out when you feel the pressure of his fingers against your clit. “Please, amor.” You beg softly, your body getting closer to cumming with every thrust. You never want to be away from him again. Wanting to spend the rest of your life with your Spaniard.

He works your clit a little faster, wanting you to fall over the edge and it doesn’t take long for you to clamp down on his cock. He doesn’t hold back, he can’t after going so long without you. He paints your walls at the same time you soak his cock and he groans your name as he pushes deep, pressing his lips to yours as he rocks you both through your highs.

You whimper as he rocks himself through the pleasure and sigh when he collapses on top of you. “I love you, Pero.” You whisper softly, heart bursting because your feelings are returned. The mercenary and the whore, a love story that shouldn’t be, but is.

#pedro pascal #pero tovar #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar smut #pero tovar imagine #pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar the great wall #tovar x you #tovar x reader #tovar x f!reader #tovar smut #tovar imagine #tovar fanfiction

[flightlessangelwings]

Watch Over You

Pero Tovar x fem!reader (no use of y/n) Word count- 5.3k Dialogue prompt- “ i can look after myself, you know. but... i do appreciate you stepping in back there. you saved my life. “ Action prompt- [ INCAPACITATE ]: sender, seeing the receiver in immediate danger, intervenes by knocking out their assailant before they can harm the receiver. Warnings- smut (18+ only!), fingering, unprotected sex, needing a kiss to hide from bad guys, mutual pining, protective!Tovar, bodyguard, minor violence, minor character deaths, reader is a royal/high rank but her status is only vaguely described and left open for interpretation, reader’s country of origin is also never mentioned so it can be read however you choose, reader has no physical descriptions and is only described as wearing “fancy clothing” so it’s open to interpretation Notes- Month 2 of my Year of Protectiveness! Thank you @yearofcreation2023​ for this event I’m having so much fun with it!! I also used an ask that @misspearly1​ sent me as inspiration for this fic as well! Enjoy!

To stay up to date on when I post, also follow my update blog and turn on post notifications @flightlessangelwings-updates​

~

You sat in your little carriage as the horses pulled it along the windy and bumpy road. You were a long way from home, but you had a duty to fulfill. So you accepted a marriage to the lord of a distant land in hope of fostering peace and trade between your kingdoms. Everything around you felt different, yet it still felt the same as you watched the world from the safety of your carriage. But there was a sight that brought you more comfort than any other.

Joining you for the last leg of your journey was a mercenary you only knew as Tovar. He was rough and fierce, yet there was something about him that you couldn’t tear you eyes away from. Especially watching his profile as he rode his horse next to your carriage, you became familiar with the outline of his face and his strong beautiful nose.

If only his attitude matched how beautiful his face was.

He was tough with you as he was with the other guards. He never let you wander too far or speak to anyone not in your caravan. And when you did stop to rest, he didn’t let you stay out of the carriage for long. Not to mention he called you the most infuriating nickname.

“Let’s get moving, princesa,” Tovar grumbled as he ushered you back to your carriage.

“Don’t call me that,” you snapped back.

Your guard rolled his eyes before he looked around to make sure no threats were nearby. Secretly, the fire you held within you intrigued him. And you were the most beautiful person he had ever guarded. But this was a job, nothing more. With one final scan of the area, your caravan pushed on, and the two of you kept all your true feelings hidden and unspoken.

*

The sun lowered in the distance and became blocked as your caravan made its way around the winding path in the mountains. From your carriage, you watched out the window, taking in the majestic sights of the land, but something else constantly caught your eye. Tovar, the handsome, yet stubborn and grumpy guard was never far from you. And while the two of you bickered constantly, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of heat through your body when his gaze caught yours.

There were even nights that your hand slipped between your legs as you imagined it was his. You bit your lip as you kept your fantasies to yourself and you prayed he never heard you as he kept watch only a few feet away from you. A soft moan escaped your lips as you watched him atop his horse, his swords secured to his hip and his eyes sharp as he kept his guard up. You felt safe with him around, and you couldn’t quite explain exactly why.

But his service was about to be put to the test.

Out of nowhere, a scream echoed in the forest of the mountains and the horses were suddenly spooked. The men scrambled to calm the animals, but before they could, an explosion of dust blocked out the fading sun completely.

Tovar yelled your name as he jumped from his horse and ran towards your carriage, but before he got there, it tipped over after the horses bolted and the wheel hit a rock. You screamed from inside as you grabbed onto the side to keep yourself more steady as it fell sideways. All the air was forced out of your lungs as you hit the opposite wall on your shoulder.

Outside, you heard shouts and the clangs of swords and you knew that you were under attack. With a gasp, you pushed yourself up no matter how much your shoulder screamed at you. Ignoring the pain, you forced the broken door open with a few strong shoves and climbed out before you stumbled onto the ground. And the sight that you met made your blood run cold.

Dozens of men wearing uniforms you had never seen before attacked your guards and other members of your caravan. Fear pulsed through you as you stood frozen for several moments. And then your eyes landed on Tovar. He fought more fiercely than any of the others, and you watched him as he gritted his teeth and swung his sword with precision. The way his large hands gripped the base made you forget your fear for a moment… until someone yelled and ran towards you.

The man’s roar caught Tovar’s attention too, and he looked in your direction as he shouted your name. His own fear overtook him for a moment as he saw you in danger. 

Thinking quickly, you grabbed a sword of one of the fallen guards and held it up just in time to block your attacker. Sword clanged as you grunted and held your ground as your attacker charged at you again and again, but again and again you blocked and perried his attacks. After a few bouts, you were able to dodge his swing before you used your sword and knocked him to the ground unconscious. 

“Hmmf,” Tovar huffed as he flashed a smile. 

It would be a lie to say he wasn’t impressed, and watching you hold your own sent a pulse of warmth through his veins. But now was not the time to dwell on that, and he quickly snapped back into focus as another man rushed at him with his sword drawn.

You joined the fight as you all sparred against the attackers. Tovar kept you in the corner of his vision while he tried to make his way towards you. While he pretended not to care, he had grown fond of you while traveling through the woods together and your safety suddenly became his top priority. 

Once by one, the attackers slowly fell, along with many of your guards. Tovar didn’t care about the others though, just you. And once the opportunity presented itself, he ran towards you to be at your side. You didn’t notice as you were too focused on the assailant in front of you but another man snuck up behind you.

Tovar grunted as he hoped he reached you in time.

With one final thrust of your sword, you knocked down the man who gave you extra trouble. You exhaled heavily in relief as you took a moment to breathe, and you cracked a smile as you were proud of yourself for defending yourself. But, your relief didn’t last long and a rustle of movement behind you caused you to gasp.

But before the man’s bland hit you, another sword blocked its path and you heard a familiar voice at your side.

“Attacking from behind is the coward’s way, hermano,” he growled as he stepped in front of you, blocking you from the attacker’s path, “But I suppose it doesn’t matter anymore,” Tovar sliced his sword and easily took down the man. When he hit the ground dead, Tovar turned back to you and grabbed your arm, “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” you replied back, sounding bewildered.

Before he could say anything more, another explosion of dust hit the group. Tovar acted before thinking and grabbed you and hurled you both down the side of the cliff. He kept his arms around you to keep you close and safe as the two of you tumbled down the mountain for what felt like hours. 

Both of you grunted in pain as you took turns hitting the ground as you fell down the side of the mountain. The entire time, though, Tovar never let go of you, keeping you close to his body so you wouldn’t get separated. After hitting one final large rock, the two of you landed hard on the ground in a clear landing, Tovar on top of you.

“Ow,” you groaned as you blinked your eyes open. But you gasped softly when all you saw was the chest of your guard, and you suddenly realized how tightly he held you… and that he was on top of you. The pain you felt seemed to vanish as other thoughts flooded your mind.

“Shit,” Tovar grumbled as he pushed himself off of you, “Are you hurt, princesa?” he asked.

“Please don’t call me that,” you snipped back as you sat up and cradled your own body, “I think I’m ok though,” you paused as you looked into his eyes and noticed for the first time how soft they actually were, “Are you ok?”

Your question seemed to catch him off guard and his facade broke for a moment as his eyes widened, “Fine,” his tone matched yours as he slowly stood, “We need to get inside somewhere,” he extended a hand to you to help you up, “If we are where I believe we are, there is a village just down that way. We will find lodging for the night and get you back in the morning,” he explained his plan as he helped you up.

But even once you were on your feet, he didn’t let go of you right away, and it wasn’t until you gave his hand a squeeze that he realized and quickly jerked his hand away from you, “You will be on your way to your lord in no time, princesa.”

This time you chose not to comment on the nickname that annoyed you so, “You think I want to go back?” you asked.

Once again, your question caught Tovar off guard, “Why would you not?” he huffed, “How can you turn away from your life of luxury?”

Too filled with adrenaline from the fight, you couldn’t control your emotions as you burst out, “You think I want to go back to them?” your loud tone made Tovar blink, “I’m just a pawn in this whole thing. My father sent me to marry the lord of… I don’t even know where I am. The agreement was made to unite our lands and foster peace, but I don’t think that is their real agenda. I think they want to take our land for themselves. That’s how they always are. My father just wants to hope for the best though, so I did my duty to make him proud.”

Tovar stayed silent.

“Even a fancy cage is still a cage, Tovar,” you added in a softer tone.

He couldn’t deny that you weren’t wrong, yet it was still hard for him to imagine turning down a life of luxury after living the life of a penniless mercenary for so long. And there was something in your eyes that he just couldn’t refuse. You were unlike any of the other’s he had been hired to protect in the past. Something about you drew him in, even when you didn’t see eye to eye. But, this discussion would have to wait; protecting you was still his job after all, and the longer you stayed out in the open, the more vulnerable you became. 

Before he spoke, Tovar shrugged his clock off and draped it over your shoulders. When you tried to protest, he shushed you, “Your fancy garnets will stand out here,” he murmured, “Keep this on. We need to stay discreet.”

“Ok,” you whispered as you adjusted the clock and threw the hood up over your head, “Thanks,” you mumbled.

“Come on,” Tovar nodded towards the town, “We’ll find an inn and get off the streets for the night.”

“Right behind you.”

Tovar’s broad shoulders stayed in your view as you followed him through the town. You had never been in a place like this before, and it fascinated you. Every scene was a wonder to you, and you loved just seeing people go about their business. The inn he found was small and quaint and he guided you to a table in the far end of the open space while he went to the innkeeper to find a room. In the meantime, you got yourself two bowls of… whatever it was, for you and Tovar.

You cradled the bowl in front of you as Tovar came back next to you, his legs straddling the bench so he could face you. When you looked up, his face was so close to yours and it made the breath catch in your throat for a moment. You felt the heat from him, and you wondered if he felt your own heat radiate from your body as your nerves flared. 

“We have a room for the night,” he said plainly.

“And then what?” you asked in a hushed tone.

Tovar’s eyes narrowed, and you could tell he had something he wanted to say. Before he had the chance to, however, the front door burst open and three men wearing the same uniforms as the group who attacked you walked in.

“Shit,” he spat under his breath. When you tried to turn to face them, Tovar grabbed your face and forced you to look at him, “Do not look, they will recognise your face.”

“Shit,” you whispered as you looked into his eyes with a look of panic, “What do we do?” 

Tovar looked deep into your eyes and his chest tightened. He wasn’t used to seeing you scared like this, and he did not like it. Looking around, he knew that fighting was not a wise option in the inn. The smarter move was to stay hidden, but it would look too suspicious if both of you got up and scurred off. As your lips parted and you let out a shaky breath, he got an idea.

“Do not slap me,” he warned in a low tone as he grabbed the hood and pulled you even closer to him.

Before you could react, Tovar crashed his lips to yours, his large hand splayed out across your face to cover as much of it as he could as he pulled your body against his. Your moan was muffled by his lips as you clung to his sleeve. But what surprised him the most was that you parted your lips for him almost immediately to deepen the kiss. And God you tasted incredible.

Tovar got lost in your kiss for a moment as he groaned against your face. His hand tightened on you as he laid the other on your hip and held you close. He tilted his head to allow your tongue to pass by his lips as a rush of warmth shot through his body and went straight to his cock. For a moment, he was so lost in you that he almost forgot about the guards that lurked just feet away. 

“Disgusting,” one of them commented when he caught you and Tovar in your fit of passion, “There’s rooms upstairs. No one wants to see that.”

Tovar growled as he subtly pulled your hood up just a little more to hide your face. He wanted to lash out at the men, but protecting you was more important. His eyes fluttered open for a moment to make sure they didn’t come any closer, but he quickly closed them again to not look suspicious.

It was a few long moments before they mumbled amongst themselves and left out the door. Tovar lingered for a bit longer than he had to before he broke away from the kiss. His hand stayed on the side of your face, tenderly cupping you as you blinked your eyes open and looked at him with a bewildered expression. 

“Tovar…” you breathed as you tightened your grip on him and looked as if you were disappointed that the moment passed. But, you collected yourself and glanced over your shoulder, “Are they gone?”

He nodded, “For now,” his voice was low, “We should get into our room before they come back again.”

“Ok,” your voice was hushed that you barely even heard yourself, but you knew he heard you. There was something about being in his arms that made you feel unlike anyone ever had before. The rough edges of his features softened when he looked at you, and it made your heart skip a beat. And you felt safe in his arms, as if the whole world could be after you but as long as you had him, you knew everything would be alright.

The room that greeted you was not what you had expected. Not because it was small and bare, but because it only had one bed. Your body instantly heated up as you thought about the possibilities and what the night could bring, and how things could change between you and your trusted guard forever. But, a grumble from Tovar quickly brought those dreams down.

“Fuck,” he muttered, “I will take the floor.”

“Oh…”

He looked at you; you actually sounded disappointed. And he had no idea what to make of that. Tovar felt an undeniable attraction to you, especially after seeing you fight on your own and showing your strength. But you were… and he was… No. It could never work. It was his job to keep you safe, to deliver you to the lord and then never see you again.

“You can slap me now,” Tovar said, “For… Before…”

The two of you stood together in an awkward silence for several long moments. You fiddled with your fingers as he stood still, his eyes scanning you up and down. Neither of you knew what to say next. Tovar anticipated your slap, and he knew it would hurt, but the longer the time went on, the more he realized you weren’t going to. Instead, your next words caught him off guard. 

“Thank you,” you broke the silence in a meek voice, “I can look after myself, you know. But…” you took in a deep breath as you felt nervous, “I do appreciate you stepping in back there. You saved my life.”

He flashed a smirk at you, a gesture you knew was rare for him, “It was my duty princesa.”

You winced, “Please don’t call me that,” your voice was softer than times you said that to him before as you pleaded with him. 

“What do you want me to call you then?” Tovar stroked the side of your face.

“Maybe my name?” you trembled as the rough pads of his fingers brushed against your skin.

Tovar was silent for a moment before the next sound left his lips, and hearing him say your name for the first time made you gasp softly. But what he did next surprised you even more, “Since we are sharing first names…” he leaned in and whispered something in your ear before he pulled back and looked into your eyes once more.

“Pero…” you repeated what he whispered to you.

And that broke the dam. 

Pero yanked you closer and crashed his lips against yours in a heated and desperate kiss. He swallowed the moan you let out as he felt you cling to him, and he groaned when you hooked one of your legs around his to bring him even closer. Heat rose in the room as you both devoured the other, hands roaming all over the other’s body.

He tugged at your fancy clothes as he guided you back toward the single bed in the room, and his cock stiffened when you let him without hesitation. You tasted so good, and you felt so warm and soft under his touch that Pero couldn’t help but want more. He wanted to feel more of you, of your bare skin. He wanted to taste you wherever you would let him. He wanted to see what you looked like lost in pure bliss…

You moaned softly when he expertly unlaced your garments, and you felt a pulse through your body at the thought that this wasn’t his first time undressing someone who wore fancy clothes. But, that didn’t matter to you. No matter what the other had been through until now was irrelevant. All that mattered was you were here now, together.

Too needy to wait, you broke away from the kiss and with a deep breath, you helped Pero with the final layers of your outfit. You stayed steady as he yanked it off of you in one swift motion, and you felt hot under his gaze when he looked at your naked body for the first time. Nerves suddenly ran through you as he whispered a soft curse in Spanish before his hands were on you once more.

“Fuck you are beautiful,” he murmured softly before he pushed you back onto the bed and quickly stripped himself of his own clothing.

You felt yourself get wet as you saw more of his skin than you ever had before. Scars littered his body, but they only made him more beautiful to you. An involuntary moan escaped your lips as he bared himself to you in a way you were sure he didn’t do often. The vulnerability of shedding his armor and his weapons didn’t go unnoticed by you, and you hoped he knew that you trusted him just as much.

“Come here, Pero,” you whispered as you reached for him.

He exhaled deeply as he climbed on top of you without hesitation, silently accepting your invitation. He hissed through a clenched jaw when his already hardening cock rubbed against your body, and he felt you tense beneath him. The jolt pulsed through both your bodies, and it connected the two of you before he even touched you.

“I will take care of you, querida,” he murmured as he cupped the side of your face, “Do not be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid,” your voice was soft but he felt the strength and sureness in your words, “Please, Pero…”

You bucked your hips against his, and both of you groaned as your pussy rubbed against his cock. He growled as his hand ran down the side of your face and wrapped around your neck for a moment. Your eyes fluttered shut as the moan you let out made his cock twitch between your bodies. Pero didn’t squeeze your neck, but just rested his hand there for several moments as he rocked his hips against yours. 

“Que hermosa…” Pero murmured as he released your neck and grazed the skin of your chest until he reached your breast.

The moan you let out echoed in the room as Pero’s rough hand squeezed your soft breast, and when he pinched your nipple you cried out even louder. “Fuck… Pero…”

He growled as the need overwhelmed him. Part of Pero wanted to take his time and savor you, but when you sounded this tempting and looked this sensual underneath him, he knew that wouldn’t happen. With one last squeeze, he let your breast go and trailed his hand down your stomach to your cunt.

Pero cupped your pussy for a moment, his palm rubbing at your clit, before he slowly pushed a finger inside you. He groaned as you cried out in pure bliss. You clawed at his arms and dug your nails into the skin of his biceps, but Pero didn’t care. In fact, it added kindle to the fire that burned between you and spurred him on more.

He pumped his finger a few times before he added a second, groaning your name as your tight wetness consumed him already. You whined as you felt stretched by Pero’s thick fingers, but your mind swam in the pleasure they brought you. And when he hooked them and hit that spot inside you perfectly, you screamed his name.

“Pero…” you moaned as you felt like your body could burst at any moment. Never before had you felt anything like this, and you knew no one else would ever compare.

As much as he wanted to pull away and wait until he fucked you to let you cum, Pero found he couldn’t stop. He sped up his thrusts, and aimed at that sweet spot inside you over and over again until you completely fell apart. With a loud moan, you came hard on his fingers, thoroughly soaking them as he buried them inside you as far as he could.

You clung to his strong arms as you floated in your pleasure until you felt completely spent. With a heavy sigh you collapsed flat, letting go of Pero as you went limp on the bed. His cock strained with desire as he watched the show you put on for him, and when he saw you go limp, he carefully pulled his fingers out of you. Pero leaned forward and kissed his way up your body until he took your lips with his own in a deep and passionate kiss.

“I know you can give me more, querida,” he groaned in your ear, “As beautiful as that was…” Pero bucked his hips against yours so you could feel how hard he was.

“Y-yes,” you breathed as you kissed him again, “Please Pero… I need you inside me…”

The fire blazed behind his eyes as he growled and lined himself up without missing a beat. As he pushed the tip at your entrance, Pero felt the evidence of your first climax, and something overtook his mind. He grunted and murmured your name as he thrust himself inside you in one swift motion, perhaps a little too rough for you but in the moment neither of you cared.

You let out a loud scream as you felt stretched and filled beyond anything before. The burn quickly gave way to a pleasure unlike anything you ever felt before, and you immediately wrapped your arms around Pero’s broad shoulders and pulled him against your body.

He took that as all the confirmation he needed to keep going, and Pero thrust in and out of you in a fast and harsh pace. It was rough, it was needy, it was desperate, and it was everything you both craved. As he covered your body with his own, Pero whispered soft praise in your ear, contrasting with the harsh way he fucked you.

“Yes… Pero… Please… More…”

Pero growled your name as he grabbed your hips and snapped his own against your body over and over again. The passions between you could have burned the inn down, but neither of you cared. In fact, neither of you even remembered where you were at the moment as he thrust into you with his fast and harsh pace. 

Your breasts swung with every snap of his hips, and Pero found himself mesmerized by you. The way you writhed in pleasure beneath him, the way your mouth hung open and allowed the sounds to spill freely, the way you gave yourself to him… it was almost too much…

“Fuck, querida,” he groaned, “I’m going to…”

“Me too…” you whispered before you added in a lower tone, “Inside.”

“Ay fuck,” Pero grunted before he lost all control.

He thrust into you with everything he had as his climax quickly overtook him. With a low groan of your name, Pero came hard, spilling himself inside of you, and when you squeezed your inner muscles around him, he knew you were just behind him. It only took a few more thrusts for you to join him, and your second orgasm hit you with a loud scream as you clung to Pero’s body and dug your nails into his back so hard he bled.

When he had no more to give and both your climaxes were ridden out, Pero collapsed down on top of you, his cock still buried deep inside you. His weight was a welcome warmth and you immediately wrapped your arms and legs around him to keep him close. Heavy breaths filled the room as you both came down from your highs. 

“Do you need me to move, querida?” Pero asked in a hushed tone.

“No,” you pleaded, “Stay…”

He let out a single huff of a laugh, “Whatever you want, prin… querida.” 

*

The sun hit your face as you blinked your eyes open. You groaned as your body had never felt more sore, yet it was a welcome soreness. Before you even focused your eyes, a smile lit up your face and you reached out for Pero. But, when you felt nothing, you shot up with a gasp. The bed was empty, and he wasn’t in the room at all. You grabbed the sheets and pulled them up to cover yourself as your mind ran.

But before you were awake for long, the door creaked open and you braced yourself, “Pero?” you asked in a whisper.

The scowl on the mercenary’s face melted away when he noticed you were awake, “I am sorry querida,” his tone softened as he locked the door behind him and made his way to sit next to you, “I thought I would be back before you awoke.”

“It’s alright,” you traced a random pattern on his arm with your finger as you noticed that he only left in his tunic and pants. You sighed contently as you felt his muscles underneath the fabric as you scanned over his figure until you noticed what he held in his hands, “What’s this?”

“This,” Pero stood and showed you what he held, “Is your choice,” he leaned over and placed it on the bed next to you before grabbing your discarded fancy garnet from the floor and placing it next to it.

It was a dress. Nothing extravagant, just a simple peasant dress. It looked to be in just your size too. Pero watched as you looked over both outfits before you met his gaze.

“Whatever we do now is up to you,” he told you, “If you want to go back and marry the lord, I will take you there safely. If you want to go back home… Or stay here and disappear,” Pero fought to keep his voice level, “I will protect you,” he looked as if he wanted to say something else, but he only said, “I will go outside while you dress and get us something to eat.”

Before you could say anything, he was out the door again, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the choices in front of you. Pero had come a long way from the grumpy guard with the sour face that you had first met. Something about him changed, and it made your heart flutter. And he was the first person to give you a choice, something you did not take for granted.

You bit your lip as your heart fluttered in your chest. You stood and grabbed your choice and dressed yourself. Whatever lay next, you knew you would get through it because you had Pero Tovar on your side. You knew what no matter your choice, you were safe with him. And you were sure you made the right choice. 

With a deep breath, you reached for the door and pulled it open, ready to take the next step in your life… with Pero Tovar at your side. 

*

Tovar turned and for the second time that morning, the fierceness melted away into something more tender. He looked you up and down as he whispered your name, “So, you have made your choice.”

You bit your lip and nodded as you ran your hands along the scratchy fabric of the pain dress he got for you, “I have,” you breathed.

He closed the gap between your bodies and rested his hands on your shoulders, “I promise I will keep you safe, querida,” his voice was sure, “But, if you are to do this, you will need a new name… I am sure the attackers believe you are dead, and I would like to keep it that way.”

You smirked, “How about Tovar?” you gave him a mischievous smile.

Pero’s eyes narrowed, “Careful querida,” he warned, but his tone held no malice, “One day at a time.”

“One day at a time,” you echoed before you took a deep breath. “I’m ready.” 

#pero tovar x reader #pero tovar #pero tovar imagine #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x y/n #pero tovar fic #pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar fanfic #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfic #tovar x reader #tovar the great wall #the great wall fanfiction #the great wall fic #tovar the great wall x reader #tovar x you #pedro pascal character headcanon

[brewsterispunkk]

marriage of convenience, part three

pairing: pero tovar x f!reader , enemies to lovers!pero tovar x reader

WC: 2.4k

summary: reader is forbidden from going to town alone; pero makes a discovery

A/N: sorry It’s taken me so long! here’s part 3, babes :) send me feedback!!

PART THREE

You awoke the next morning with a sour taste in your mouth and tired eyes.

You hadn’t gotten much sleep. Last night, after the intrusion of your cousin and his friend, you decided to sleep with a dagger under your pillow. Whether that be for your brother or for the elusive Spaniard, you weren’t sure. Either way, you’d finally found sleep when the sun was beginning to rise and your mother began rousing from her own slumber.

Breakfast was a stilted thing—all bumping elbows and awkward glances.

Your mother was still angry, that much you could tell. She was like that: it took her time to get over things that affected the family. And harming a visitor under your own roof—albeit over a misunderstanding—affected your family’s honor. Still, Tovar didn’t seem the type to say anything to anyone. Or rather, to say anything at all. He barely spoke a word at breakfast.

Now, you sat waiting for Lisbeth to arrive. The two of you were set to go to market and trade—your mother often put you in charge of her dealings now that she was too often bound to the house to care for your ailing father.

Petyr was nowhere to be seen, and you silently thanked the gods. He was the last person you wanted to see.

You’d worn one of your long sleeved dresses with a high neckline today, despite the heat. You wanted to cover the bruises he’d given you the night before.

A sharp knock on the wood of your front door sprung you to your feet.

“Who might that be?” Your mother called from the kitchen, where she was sorting herbs for the market.

“Lisbeth, I’m sure,” you answered as you made your way to the door.

“I didn’t know she would be accompanying you,” she tutted.

You stopped, turning to face her, confused.

“You love Lisbeth,” you puzzled.

It was true; the two of you had grown up together, despite her father’s greater fortune. Your mothers had been with child at similar times, and had remained friends until Lisbeth’s mother’s untimely death five years ago.

“I do, dear. It’s just that I would like you back here by noon, and you always take your time when the two of you go together.”

“Noon?” you asked incredulously. That was hardly enough time to conduct all your business.

“Yes,” she said, hands on her hips. “I need your help cutting William’s hair. He looks positively beastly with that mane.”

“Surely you can manage–”

“And his companion’s, of course.”

You started, opening your mouth to protest before your mother held up a hand to stop you.

“I will hear no argument. Be home by midday.”

You sighed as Lisbeth knocked again, a bit firmer this time.

“Your friend is waiting, it is bad manners to keep her for so long,” your mother added as you opened the door and left, a smile in her voice.

- -

“You will not believe what I heard as I was breaking my fast.”

Your ears pricked at Lisbeth’s voice. She’d made it a third of the way to the village square before she’d begun telling you of what she heard from the servants and her father’s associates the night before.

Lisbeth’s family was considerably more well off than yours—you’d always known it. Where your mother had married a kind blacksmith, hers had married a wealthy Lord. Lisbeth’s father was a Lord in his own right, descended from a pedigree that could be traced back to Charlemagne. Some of the wealth and status had worn off through the generations, but the title held. He was an important man, and kept a reasonably sized manor and house. Because of this, your life looked quite different from hers.

Day and night, her father had associates from all corners of the world bringing him news of his business on their travels and the goings on of the world outside. In addition to that, Lisbeth’s family could afford servants. And if any small bit of information got past her father’s associates, the servants of her house were a spy network of their very own. So, the two of you were well informed on the goings on of the town, even if you weren’t involved directly in all of its happenings.

“What?” You asked.

“Roslyn told me that she overheard from Kit that two girls from Bay Street were attacked yesterday.”

You balked at her and found her own face grave. You gulped, sneaking glances to the trees around you.

You didn’t live too far from the heart of your village, but your little cottage was far enough away to be considered on the outskirts. You had to pass through small pockets of trees to get to the bustling part of your little town. The wildlife and distance from your house to the city had never bothered you–until now.

“Attacked?” The words were hushed as they left your mouth.

“Yes,” she said. “By two men. I heard scarcely more than that, but apparently they lurk in wait for young girls.”

“You’re sure?”

“That’s what she said.”

“Then we shall be on our guard,” you blew out a breath, wondering what the hell was going on in your sleepy little town to have so many unusual things occurring. First the return of your cousin and now this. “I encountered that strange man again last night.”

“What?” Lisbeth gripped your arm tighter as you walked. “The same one who spied on us in the forest?”

“The very same.”

“What–when?”

“In the small hours last night, after I walked you home.”

Lisbeth sighed your name. “I told you you should have let me go alone! Strange people are about in town at those hours.”

“I found him in my own house, Lisbeth!”

She just stared at you dumbly. You laughed.

“And he is most unagreeable. He scared me half to death last night. He is traveling with my cousin, William. Do you remember him?”

“Handsome William?” She laughed in disbelief. “Of course I do. With a face like that, how could I forget?”

“Yes, well. They travel together. That is all I know of it. They are to stay here for the season I believe. Until harvest, my mother said. I suspect I shall hear more on the matter later.”

“Maybe it is high time we find husbands after all,” Lisbeth said wryly. You scowled.

“You may have them both,” you kicked a rock on the dusty path in front of you. “I suspect he feels nothing but contempt for me anyway. I held a knife to his throat last night.”

“To a guest?” Lisbeth gasped and you cringed. She was always the more superstitious one than you. “In your own home?”

“Yes, yes, I have already heard such scoldings from my mother.”

“It is an insult to the gods,” she mumbled. “It brings bad luck.”

“Well, I already have enough of that,” you huffed before continuing. “What other news do your ears bring you?”

“Hmm,” Lisbeth hummed. “Rather than the…ruffians about, nothing of importance. Moira, the miller’s girl is to be wed to some minor country lord—a cousin of theirs, I think.”

“You don’t say?” You nodded. “If there is hope for her, perhaps there is some for us as well.”

Lisbeth laughed. Though she was not quite as old as you, she was by no means “fresh” as far as the marriage market went. Despite her beauty, many a nosy mother had begun to remark on her age.

“There was something about your brother as well.” she said uneasily. “But if you don’t want to hear it—”

“I do,” you said almost immediately. “What did he do this time?”

“Apparently,” she began carefully. “He has considerable debts. To both some other merchants, and to the crown.”

You sighed, dropping your face to your hands.

This was just like Petyr. He already had insurmountable debts from his years of breaking the law and gambling, but to add on top of this? Your father was ill and only getting worse in his age. He could barely walk as it was. It would cost money to find a healer, and with this, you knew Petyr would not only do nothing to contribute or help with finances , but he would no doubt begin to steal from your parents again. He’d done it before. You sighed again.

Maybe it was for the best William returned—surly companion and all.

- -

You returned from the market a little after midday and your mother looked so stressed that she didn’t even seem to notice.

“Ah!” She exclaimed when she saw you, looking up from William, who was seated in front of her. His beard was gone, and your mother was beginning her work on trimming his wild hair. Behind her, Tovar looked bored as ever, hair still damp from what you assumed was a much needed bath.

“You’re here,” she sighed. “Good. I need you to finish up on William and get started on Mr. Tovar. I have got to help Graciela with untangling her weaving and then find where James and Hugo have gotten off to.”

You opened your mouth to argue—to tell her that you would help Gracie and the boys, anything but spending time with the rake in your kitchen—but she was off before you could get in a word edgewise, flitting from the room.

You sighed.

“Don’t sound so excited, cousin.”

“It is not you I find odious, William,” you sent a shooting look to the Spaniard behind him as you said it. He only snorted.

“Tovar doesn’t bite, I assure you,” William laughed as you began to cut away the mats in his long hair.

“Not unless asked to,” Tovar added, and you could hear the smirk in his voice. It made heat rise to your cheeks.

William reached back to smack his companion who only scowled back at him.

“He’s jesting,” he assured you. “We are guests in your home. We would never lay a hand on you or your family. We are here to help.”

“Until the harvest, if what I’ve heard is correct?”

You watched his golden-brown locks fall to the floor in the evening light.

“You hear correct,” William hummed. “I was sorry to hear of your father’s condition. Tovar and I will do all we can to help with his woodworking while we are here.”

You felt your throat tighten at the emotion his promise made rise within you. You pursed your lips and cleared your throat.

“Thank you.”

“He always was like a father to me, you know.”

“I know,” you patted his shoulder and smoothed his hair back. “All done.”

William rose from the chair, still taller than you, even after all these years. He smiled down at you and ruffled your hair.

“Thank you cousin.”

You smacked his hand away.

“Tovar, your turn.”

Tovar sighed, before taking William's seat in front of you.

“Let’s get this over with.”

“I find this no more pleasing than you do, Señora.”

You gritted your teeth at what he called you again. From his place by the hearth, William rolled his eyes.

“Please, cease to act like children for five minutes,” he said. “My head aches having to listen to it.”

You sighed and began cutting his thick, dark hair.

All the while, Tovar didn’t make a sound nor move a muscle. He was free of his armor, instead clad in a white linen shirt of your father’s. You couldn’t help but note how broad he was, even without the heavy armor. It made your cheeks heat up.

No, you scolded yourself. He is unpleasant and uncouth and a rake.

You shook your head and continued cutting, willing away the unwelcome feelings rising in you.

As you reached forward to cut a particularly gnarled piece of hair near his temple, Tovar suddenly reached and grabbed your forearm. You jumped—surprised by the sudden movement of it all–when you saw it: the sleeve of your dress had fallen down, revealing the deep-purple of your bruise.

You gasped, pulling your arm back, clutching it to your chest.

Tovar looked at you with unreadable eyes, brows furrowed. Your own eyes only held his for a moment before you turned on your heel and left the room.

- -

You couldn’t stop staring at him.

It was mortifying. Never had you been unable to tear your eyes from someone in this way before. But, to be fair, he had blindsided you.

After you’d cut Tovar’s hair, your mother had flitted into the room to shave his face and finally remove the jungle of hair that obscured it to you. What lay underneath was devastating.

He had deep-set, dark eyes that always seemed to be glowering at something. His left eye was bisected by what looked like an old scar, probably obtained in battle, you presumed. He and William were sellsords, after all, as you’d found out. He had a prominent, aquiline nose and plush lips under a small mustache that he’d instructed your mother to keep.

He was handsome, albeit in a roguish way. And you couldn't look away.

He hadn’t said a word to you since he saw the dark bruise on your wrist earlier. You didn’t know what he even would say, if anything. You doubted he even cared.

“Did you hear me?”

Your father’s voice tore your eyes from the mercenary eating across from you. You blinked.

“Pardon me?”

Your father’s kind eyes narrowed in a smile. You were glad he wasn’t so ill that we couldn’t join you for supper. It seemed you saw less and less of him lately.

“I said, I don’t want you going to the square alone any longer. I have heard talk of…unsavory people about recently.”

“I don’t go alone, though,” you furrowed your eyebrows. “Lisbeth and I walk together.”

“Lisbeth has been forbidden to go alone as well. She will no longer meet you here beforehand. From now on, you will have an escort.”

“What?” you asked, feeling a part of you deflate.

Your walks to the square and in the woods were the only times you could escape—could pretend you were anywhere but here. He couldn’t take that away from you. He couldn’t.

“It is decided,” your father replied, and you herald the sharp inhale of breath from the rest of the dinner table as they witnessed the exchange.

“Father, please.”

“It is decided,” he said in a deep, level voice. “It is for your own safety. Do you know what bands of criminals would do to a young girl like you?”

You were silent.

“Everyday, either Tovar or Petyr will escort you,” he continued and you started. No–anyone but Petyr. You stood up.

“Father please–”

Your mother slammed her hands on the table and sent you a piercing look. She said your name.

“That is enough,” she said. “Now sit down.”

You looked around the table at your family, eyes blurred with unshed tears. All of them avoided your gaze. All except Tovar.

You sniffed and pushed in your chair before turning on your heel and leaving, ignoring your mother’s cries after you.

- -

#pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar fic #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar x female reader #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar imagine #pero tovar x you #pero x reader #pero tovar #the great wall fanfiction #the great wall

[harmonity-vibes]

Round 2!

#fictional characters #imagines #fictional boyfriend #jensen ackles #chris evans #dean winchester #curtis everett #ari levinson #sam winchester #marcus moreno #marcus pike #zach wellison #clark kent #pero tovar #javi gutierrez #din djarin

[multific]

Cold Winter

Pero Tovar x Reader

Words: 1.2K

Summary: Spending your first winter with your husband.

A/N: This can be read as Part 2 to my other story or as a standalone. Enjoy~

You could hear him chopping wood outside. You heard as he lifted and then dropped the axe to cut the wood into small pieces.

Winter hit suddenly, as it usually does, but this time, you weren't so prepared.

Unfortunately, your husband decided to spend the time between your legs instead of doing actually useful tasks.

Your chicken was hungry, your horses were fussy and yet he just couldn't keep his hands to himself.

Pero was like a starved man in heat. And you loved him for it. Being married to him for a couple of months now you learned he would sacrifice anything to be with you, and if that meant chopping wood in a snowstorm, then he would do so.

In the meantime, you readied warm food for him and some water so he could take a bath. 

When he finally got back into the cabin, he dusted his jacket from the snow and threw more wood on the fire.

"With this much, we can keep the house warm for a week." he said as he sat down by the table, you could feel his eyes staring at your back, mainly at your ass.

"Cariño, come over here." he said and you heard as he tapped his leg for you to sit, but you just laughed.

"I don't think. I want to make some bread after dinner so tomorrow we can have it fresh. You are just distracting me from my tasks."

"You have no tasks, Mi Esposa. Your task is to keep your husband happy during these harsh months. Winter should be about relaxing and-"

"And not freezing to death. If it was up to you, My Dear Husband, we would still be in bed with a dying fire."

"Maybe the fire in the fireplace was dying, but my love for you is never fading." You turned to look at him. With a small laugh, you shook your head and dried off your hands. But you didn't go to him.

"And since when are you so poetic?"

"Since I have been married to you. You made a swordsman like me settle down, and while I do not miss the thrill of nearly avoiding death every day, I would rather have us in that bed than anywhere else."

"You are the worst. I'm making bread and you will take a bath."

Of course, making him wait was fully intentional, he needed to learn to do his tasks first and then he could have his candy. Much like a child.

You heard him huff behind you, but when you placed the plate of food in front of him, he stopped his fussing and focused more on eating.

Pero loved to eat, and he really appreciated your cooking.

While he ate, you focused on making the dough. Once you were done, you sat down by the table to have your own meal.

"Cariño, I really hope you will join me in the bath."

"I will, but no funny business, I'm rather tired." you honestly just wanted to save yourself from the hustle to heat up new water, but you also knew he had other ideas.

And even if he said he wouldn't, you knew he would definitely try.

Which is exactly why you sat on the other end of the bathtub as the two of you got in. You felt the hot water relax your muscles. It felt really good.

"Eres hermosa mi amor." you heard him say.

"I don't know what that means." it was true, and although you picked up many words from his language, you were not even close to being fluent.

"It means that you are beautiful, my love."

You looked at him, he looked way too inviting for his own good. Dark eyes fixed on you, broad shoulders and chest just above the water, his delicious tan skin dripping with water, and you knew exactly what lurked under the body soap and water. His delicious body which always made sure you found your own pleasure.

You would have jumped right on him if you weren't so tired. Instead, you just started washing yourself before relaxing back into the water, letting it take away all your worries and pain.

You felt his eyes watching your every move, you knew he wanted to wash you but you also knew that he would just whisper into your ear with his hands on you and you would never be able to tell him no.

You felt him move in the water, washing himself as you leaned back a little and closed your eyes.

You stayed like that until you felt the water getting cold. Both of you move out and changed into your sleeping garments, which for him, wasn't much. Even in the cold, he slept shirtless, not that you minded.

Pero put more wood on the fire as you checked if your dough has nicely risen already or not. You let out a yawn just as a pair of hands found their way around you, hugging you from behind.

"Bailar Conmigo." oh you heard that one before even if you had no idea what it meant.

"Wait, don't tell me... you want to...dance?" you asked as he moved his head into the crook of your neck, you felt him smile against your skin.

"You are getting better." 

"I recognize words, but I cannot even say them correctly."

"Let me teach you one, Mi Esposo." you tilted your head as you turned around in his arms, putting your hands on his shoulder.

"Mi Esposo." you repeated after him. "What does it mean?"

"My Husband. You should call me that."

"Oh, and here I was hoping you'd teach me something naughty. And there you go, teaching me something cute and simple, I'm truly disappointed Mi Esposo."

He let out a laugh this time and you smiled.

"What do you want me to teach you?" he asked as he slowly started to sway the two of you. You shrugged your shoulders. Instead, you pulled him down for a kiss. A sweet kiss, not like the ones you shared in your bed earlier. This was a kiss between two lovers to make sure the other knew exactly how much they loved one another.

"Te amo." you said when he pulled away and he smiled again, hugging you close.

He slowly walked the two of you to bed, laying you down before getting under the covers himself and pulling you close.

He was the only reason that made this unbearably cold winter manageable.

Warmth.

He was so warm, so inviting and so calming. He was your home, your husband. You loved him so much.

"Good night, te amo, Mi Esposa," he said just as you were about to sleep, your fist clenched against his chest as he kissed your forehead.

And soon, the two of you fell into a slumber, surrounded by each other's warmth and the love you shared.

Translator: (Please note: I do not speak Spanish, this is all from the translator)

Cariño - Sweetie 

Mi Esposa - My Wife

Mi Esposo - My Husband

Eres hermosa mi amor - You are beautiful my love

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~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

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