#pero tovar x you

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Sprout [Pero Tovar x f!reader]

Read on AO3

Sequel to Seed.

Fandom: The Great Wall

Ships: Pero Tovar x f!reader

Tags/warnings: Pregnancy, pregnancy kink, pregnant sex, dirty talk, some angst and fighting but also making up with more sex, labor, you get it. Soft Pero!

Words: 5,999

Summary: After trying long and hard, you are finally pregnant. Pero is delighted, but now begins a time of waiting and fussing and, well, lots of sex. That's the plot.

When you finally become pregnant, you know it immediately.

It is eerie, almost magical, the way you just feel something take root in your womb. Not the presence of a person, but just something new, something growing. It is early morning, you awake before Pero, last night’s coupling still a warm, sticky memory on your skin along with his breath, his limbs so tightly wound around yours. You mean to rouse him with kisses and caresses, but then you feel it, and you just know. A blissful smile spreading on your face, you decide to relish this feeling for as long as you can, and so you just stay still and quiet, one hand on your lower abdomen. When Pero eventually stirs, hands and lips starting to claim you, you gently peel them off of you.

“I’m sore,” you whisper to him, accepting a chaste kiss on your lips.

“I’m sorry, my love.”

“Don’t be. I just need a rest.”

He pecks your lips again before releasing you to start the day. You hear him use the chamber pot, and when he comes back into the bedroom, he stops and looks at you, brows drawn together.

"What?" you ask.

"You look different."

"Do I?" You can feel heat rise to your cheeks, but in the same moment you decide not to tell him, not just yet. You want to be sure, live with this new presence by yourself for a couple of days.

"Yes."

He grabs his shirt and trousers, pulling them on while regarding you. You shrug innocently.

"Don't know what it would be."

That was all for that morning.

You tell him about a week later. The feeling of attachment deep within you had not diminished, and you have become more confident that it is real. During the entire week, you have gently turned down Pero's advances, citing tiredness and aches. Pero may be a loving husband, but he does not keep track of your monthly bleeding, and so he seems to have accepted that it's your time of the month, and been content with sweet caresses and kisses.

It's evening when you tell him. You're sitting together outside the house, facing the back garden. Surrounded by fragrance in the dying light, listening the first cicadas of the night starting the concertos, you feel that it is the right time to tell him.

"Husband," you start, lifting your head from his shoulder and facing him. "There is something I need to tell you."

His features are immediately painted with a wariness, like he is expecting bad news. Your sweet warrior husband, always ready for life to be full of hardships. You give him a reassuring smile.

"It's nothing bad, I promise."

"Then what is it?" he barks, hand squeezing yours like he's afraid you are going to get up and leave.

"I'm with child."

His eyebrows shoot up, leaving his eyes round and wide open, just like his mouth.

"Are you?"

"Yes."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes," you giggle now, his reaction too amusing not to cause you mirth. "I am certain, Pero, that you are going to be a father."

His face is as raw as it was on your wedding day, the joy shaving years off his scarred features. He raises your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles before pressing your hand to his heart, and then his lips are on yours. You feel him tremble a little, from nerves, happiness, or excitement you don't know, but you pull him in for the kiss, and he relaxes in your arms.

He carries you inside and lays you on the bed, never stopping to kiss you until he has to, in order to pose a question.

"Can we...?"

"I think we can," you answer breathlessly before pulling him in for more kisses. Pero needs no further permission: he lays down over you, stealing your breath away with him kisses before sitting up to get you undressed. When you're naked before him, he leans down to trail soft kisses over your belly.

"My child," he murmurs, looking up at you, eyes shining. "You will take care of my child, won't you?"

"You know I will," you promise, shivering from the goosebumps of pleasure induced by Pero's bristly skin.

"And I will take care of you, wife," he vows, trailing light kisses down between your legs, which fall open to accommodate him.

He’s more gentle than usual, more perceptive of your mewls, the way your legs twitch, your grip on the sheets. It may not be his intention, but he ends up tormenting you even more with his slowness. It is a stark contrast to the frantic fucking of the past few weeks. His seed, shot inside you on a daily basis, has finally taken root, and he seems determined to nourish that little sapling as best he can. Even if that means teasing you at the brink of release until you’re sobbing.

“Pero…!” You’re writhing, trying to push yourself against his mouth for the relief you need, but his arms tighten around your thighs, rendering your lower body immovable.

“Hush,” he admonishes you in a thick whisper. “You have to relax, my darling, you can’t get overexcited.”

You press the back of your head into the pillow and run your fingers through your hair.

“Please,” you whisper desperately, “please, Pero, I can’t bear it any longer.”

You know he’s smiling from the curve of his lips against your sensitive inner thighs, and then he finally takes mercy on you. The orgasm feels stronger than usual, maybe due to the prolonged, sweet torture, or because of your condition. When Pero presses a kiss to your inner thigh, you almost kick him, your legs coming together to seal in the pulses in your pussy, and you turn over onto your side to get away. He lets you be for a moment, hearing from your breathy moans that you are unharmed, but he soon takes a gentle grip of your arm, and makes you roll onto your back again.

“My love,” he hums, dipping down to brush his lips over yours. “Are you well?”

“Yes,” you manage, and that works as enough of a reassurance for him to press his lips to yours. The kiss is sweet enough, but you sense the urgency in him, and his cock is hard and leaking against your thigh.

“Come to me, husband,” you mumble, opening your legs anew. Pero is instantly between them, guiding his cock into you. He slides in easily enough as he lays down over you, and you brace yourself for his usual brand of frenzy. He does, however, stay still, sheathed deeply inside you, as he cradles your face and kisses you. You are full of him, so full, and yet you want more, so you raise your hips to urge him to move.

“Patience, my love,” he reprimands you gently, kissing your forehead before moving his hips only enough to be able to push them into your again. “We have time.”

“I need you,” you pout, happy with how it makes him swallow hard.

“I know, wife, and you shall have me every single day, but we need to be careful. “ Another thrust, slow but so deep, makes you whimper. “We will make sure that the baby grows big and strong.” He thrusts again and your nails press into his back. “I will make sure that you are satisfied, my love, and that our baby is happy as it grows inside you.” One more thrust has you running your nails down his back. Hissing, he punishes you with a stab of his cock right up against your womb, and when you bare your throat to him, he dives down to suck his love marks into your skin. His hips move with more insistence now as he fucks you bruising deep, and when he releases his seed into you, he whimpers in a way you have never heard before. Your arms wrapped around him, you pull him down over you, forcing him to stay inside of you for as long as he’s hard. When he finally rolls off of you, he whispers his I love you first into your ear, then to your belly.

A couple of weeks later, you have your first morning of being sick. Pero had taken to a morning routine of greeting both you and your belly with kisses and caresses, but he barely touched you before you fly out of bed, barely making it to the slop bucket in the kitchen before your stomach turns inside out.

Pero hovers behind you, unsure how to help you as you retch into the bucket, but when you rise and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, he’s there to embrace you, combing your hair away from your face.

“Are you done?”

“I think so,” you tell him weakly, and he carries you back to bed and tucks you in before bringing you water. He then proceeds to building a fire, and making breakfast that he brings in to you.

“You don’t have to fuss,” you tell him, a little embarrassed at his extreme measures. “I’m perfectly capable of making us breakfast.”

“You need rest,” he tells you with a finality that you have never heard from him before. “Take it easy. You work so hard already.”

“No harder than you.”

“When I’m not escorting caravans, I don’t do much. Now eat, if you can stomach it.”

You can, and you’re suddenly ravenous.

After breakfast, you take your basket and go down to the marketplace to do your daily shopping, and when you return to find Pero outside the house, brushing down the horse, you sigh deeply as you put down the basket.

“Well, everybody knows now.”

“Knows what?” Pero asks, resting one hand on the horse’s strong neck. The warm sun has already turned his hairline damp, and he’s squinting against the light. You give him a what do you think? look, and he nods.

“I threw up the second I smelled fish,” you tell him, the sour taste still fresh in your mouth. “We’re having meat for the time being, husband.”

He shrugs, not having a preference one way or the other.

“Suits me fine. Are you well?”

“I’m fine.” You pick up the basket again and kiss his cheek, careful not to exhale what with your breath being so foul. “I’ll go in, put all this away.

“Leave the basket, I’ll carry it inside when I’m done with the horse.”

“I can do it, it’s not heavy.”

He glares at you then, clearly unhappy, but you kiss his cheek again.

“Don’t worry, Pero.”

But he does worry. And his worry grows with each day that starts with you throwing up. You are not showing, and the only sign of your condition, to him, is you being sick. He can’t feel what you feel, the presence inside you, although he tries every night, digging deep and slow into you until you’re begging him to cum because you can’t take it anymore.

That worry culminates one afternoon when he catches you carrying water from the well in your garden.

“Just what the hell do you think you are doing?” he glowers at you as you step in, burdened with one bucket in each hand. You stare at him, not even understanding what he’s talking about.

“What do you mean?”

“You shouldn’t be carrying something so heavy!”

“Pero – “

“You need to be more careful.” He makes it sound like you have been living irresponsibly, and it makes you furious because he has never spoken to you like this before. That scowl of his would scare anyone else in the village, but not you. You simply put down the buckets, your hands coming to your hips as you scowl right back.

“Now you listen to me, Pero Tovar! I am not frail, I am not ill, I am able to perform my chores! I may be pregnant, I may not be able to keep my breakfast, but there is nothing about my state that is abnormal!”

He seems a little taken back with your response but collects himself quickly.

“You should be resting more,” he insists, “and you getting this upset isn’t good for you, either.”

“I am not getting upset, you are making me upset!” you snap, heat rising to your cheeks. “I am doing fine and I would be doing even better if you weren’t so hell-bent on making me feel like I was dying!”

“It is precisely to stop you from dying that I am being so protective!” he bites back. You clearly hit a nerve there, and you’re angry enough to keep pinching it.

“So I cannot carry water during the day, but you can nail me to our bed every night?” you spit. “That’s a very strange way of protecting me, is it not?”

His jaws move, like he’s screaming something new at you, but then he casts down his eyes, his frown still prominent and neck muscles bulging. You cross your arms in front of your chest, waiting for his next move, but he just mutters something before storming out. You stare at the closed door, not expecting his departure. Pero has not survived by backing away from a fight.

You go on doing your chores, your blood coming down from its boil, and by the time supper is on the table, Pero returns. He stands by the door, leaning against it like he’s unsure that he’s welcome, but you gesture silently at his customary seat at the table, so he comes and sits down. You serve the food, you both eat it, and not until your plates are empty does Pero clear his throat.

“I’m sorry for earlier.”

You meet his soft gaze, seeing the regret – but also fear.

“Husband,” you whisper, but he shakes his head.

“I’m so afraid of losing you, my love.”

“I know.”

“I have never had anything as… good, and beautiful, as you, and the thought of losing you…”

“I know, my love,” you nod. You know this fear, but you have not known the same hard life as Pero has, and that helps you in not being ruled by that fear.

“Losing both you and our baby…”

“But you won’t,” you cut him off, softly but with conviction.

“You don’t know that. There is so much that can go wrong.”

“I don’t know that, no. I just believe it. I believe we will be okay in the end.” You reach your hand across the table, and Pero takes it. “Can’t you believe with me?”

A small, hopeful smile lights up his face. “I’ll try.”

Leaving everything on the table, you take him to bed. As you undo his belt, the belt pouch falls to the floor, and you hear the clinking of glass.

“Fuck,” Pero grunts. “I forgot.”

He bends down to pick up the pouch, pulling two bottles from it. He exhales in relief when discovering that they’re not broken.

“What are those?” you want to know, eyeing the two bottles, one larger, the other no bigger than Pero’s thumb.

“I went to the midwife,” he tells you, rolling the small bottle between his fingers. “She says that a couple of drops of this on your tongue every morning will help with your vomiting.”

You pick up the bottle and pull out the cork. The sunny, sweet smell of oranges wafts out. You quirk a brow and look at Pero, who shrugs.

“It’s worth trying, don’t you think?”

“It is.” You put the cork back and close your fingers over the bottle. “Thank you. That’s very thoughtful of you.”

“It’s been hard for me to see you be so sick,” he confesses, hand coming to a soft rest on your waist. “It doesn’t seem fair.”

“It’s not so bad, husband,” you assure him. “It’s just in the mornings, and it’s not going to last.”

“I hope the tincture will help.”

“If not, you have another bottle?”

“Oh.” Pero holds up the bigger bottle, as if he had forgotten about it. “This is not medicine.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s oil for your belly,” he explains, and now his gaze turns soft. “The midwife said that as your belly begins to grow, the skin often turns dry. This is to help with that.”

You smile, your hand coming up to his bristly cheek.

“That’s so sweet of you, Pero.”

“I promise I’ll rub it onto you every night, starting now,” he vows with a mischievous little smile, and you giggle.

“I’m not showing yet!”

“The midwife said it’s important to start before the skin begins to stretch, so would you please take your clothes off, wife, and lie down on the bed.”

You laugh, but it’s not you who ends up lying on the bed, it’s Pero.

“You’ve been so good to me,” you purr, sitting astride him and teasing his cock hard by rubbing your cunt against it. “Let me take care of you now, husband.”

“Yes,” he swallows hard, “my love, please.”

You kiss the wet tip of his cock, nip at the head, trail the veins down his length with your tongue, make him whine and writhe and come apart for you. You give him only a moment to catch his breath before you take his cock in your hand and stroke it to keep it hard. Pero inhales with a hiss.

“Oh, fuck, careful…!”

“I am being careful,” you promise as you keep your touch light. “I just need to make sure that you are able to service me, husband.”

“Always,” he chokes as you sit astride him.

“My cunt is hungry for your big cock, my love.”

“Oh, please… please… ahhh!” You sink down on him, your wet cunt splitting open but taking all of him, your lower lip caught between your teeth as you exhale in a loud moan. Your eyes have closed involuntarily, and when you open them, you see Pero looking up at you with awe in his eyes.

“I love you,” he whispers, and you bend down to kiss him.

“I love you, too.”

His hands splay over your lower abdomen. “And I love you.”

You kiss him again and start to move your hips. Your love life has been less frantic since you became pregnant, but it is not lacking in passion. Your slow, meticulous grind reflects that, and when Pero reaches for the oil bottle next to him on the bed, you sit up straight and let him rub the oil onto your skin.

“You are so beautiful,” he sighs as he circles his rough hand over your soft stomach. “And you will be even more beautiful when you start to show.”

“Will I”? you coax him, and he nods.

“I want you to ride me like this when you’re big and round, wife.” His voice drops, and the way it drips hot honey down your spine makes you clench. “I want you to take your pleasure from me likes this when you’re so big that you can hardly move, and your tits are leaking milk.”

“And if I can’t?” you breathe. His eyes are molten coal when he stares at you.

“Then I will help you.”

With that, he slides hand to where your bodies come together. His oiled fingers dance easily on your nub, and with his help, you ride him home, taking his load deep into your slick, warm cunt.

Your nausea does not bother you as much the following morning. Pero credits it to the tincture but you know that something has shifted in your relationship, become easier and more earnest.

“Maybe I shouldn’t go.”

You squeeze Pero’s arm against your side. “It’s a little too late for that now.”

“I can still tell them – “

“They need you,” you remind him. “So many people depend on you.”

“You are the most important one of all of them,” he points out, stopping in the middle of the street and turning to you. His free hand, the one that’s not holding the reigns of the horse, comes to rest on your slightly rounded belly. “You, and the little one.”

“It’s only a week.” You cup his cheek, stroke your thumb over his lips. “It’s not a long time. You’ll make good money, and I promise that I’ll rest.”

He raises his brows, and you laugh at his skepticism.

“I promise!” you hold up your hand to your chest. “I promise, Pero, you know you can trust my word, right?”

“I know,” he nods, now smiling, before dipping down to kiss you softly. The horse snorts, and Pero ends the kiss with a quick peck on your lips, before you once again take his arm, and walk to the town square where the caravan is getting ready to leave. Pero was early on asked to provide security for it, and even though he was loathe to leave you for an entire week, both of you knew he would. Winter is on its way, trading will come to a stop, and he will be free to spend the rest of your time at home.

You nod at familiar faces when you reach the square, but soon have only eyes for Pero as he takes you in his arms. You expect admonition and reprobation, but only receive whispered assurances of his love for you.

“You will take care of yourself, won’t you?” he finally asks, when the caravan leader is announcing departure. You give him a naughty smile.

“Take care of myself how…?”

He grins back. “You know how. I left you the oil, and the memory of me.”

“My own fingers are nothing compared to you, my love.”

“As my hand is a meagre substitute for your warm, wet cunt,” he breathes against your ear. There is time for a hot yet subdued kiss, and a quick caress of your belly, before Pero has to mount his horse. He blows you a kiss and is off.

The week passes slowly and uneventfully. It rains a lot, which means you keep mostly indoors, and it makes you a little restless. The baby is restless as well; you feel it twitching and floundering almost every hour that you are awake. It is a comfort, knowing that you are not alone, but you still miss Pero.

It is late night when he returns. You are already in bed but the sounds of the wagons returning to the village draws you out of bed. You pull a shawl around your shoulders, but don’t get dressed, loath to leave the warmth of the house to go out into the late autumn chill. It does not take long before Pero rides into the yard, dismounting midstride when you come out onto the doorstep. He rushes to you, lips on yours before he’s even wrapped his arms around you. His lips are cold but his breath is warm, and his body fits to yours perfectly, shielding you from the cold.

“Are you well?” are his first words to you.

“We are both well, husband. How about you? How was the journey?”

“Uneventful. I am unharmed.”

He falls to his knees, hands tracing the roundness of your stomach through the nightgown before pressing a kiss to it.

“Hello, little one.”

You feel the baby move, and then a powerful jerk. Pero flinches, then looks up at you, mouth open.

“Was that…?”

“Yes,” you smile, hand coming to cup the top of his head. “That was our baby, my love, saying welcome home.”

“Was it really?”

You nod, your smile growing wider as you watch Pero stare at your clothed belly, hand circling it in search of another kick. A light breeze sweeps across the yard, and you shudder.

“Let’s go inside, husband.”

He has to put away the horse first, so you prepare a small supper while you wait for him to come in. When he finally does, he forgoes any food, instead taking you to bed. Balls deep in you and kissing your breath away, he tells you over and over again how much he loves you.

Winter slows down the entire village, although you feel slower than ever before with each passing week. Your belly grows, and with it your tiredness. Your feet hurt, your hips hurt, you back hurts, you feel clumsy, and you're hungry all the time. Pero takes all your griping in stride, helping you with your heavier chores that you finally relinquish to him. He rubs your belly and breasts with oil every night, and pleasures you with his mouth, fingers, and cock every time you ask for it – which varies from day to day. Some days you cannot have enough of him, others you can barely stand the thought of sleeping with him. Your patient husband takes no offense at your ever-changing mood.

You realize very soon that you have been incredibly lucky in your choice of husband – not that you didn’t know that before, of course. When going to the marketplace and meeting the village women, your growing belly gives you a new role in the group. The younger women titter, the older give advice or tell crude jokes that make you blush.

“Glowing skin, hazy eyes,” one comments one morning by the vegetable stand, “and him looking like the king of the world. Neither one of you goes wanting, that’s for sure.”

Your cheeks heat up. The comment is spoken without malice, and in a pleased tone, but it feels like the speaker had direct access to your bedroom that morning, seen you come apart on Pero’s cock, witnessed him fuck his cum deep inside you.

You mumble something, and the older woman chuckles.

“I’ve had five, and my husband serviced me with all five of them. A father’s seed will make the baby grow strong. Your child will be born big and healthy, I can see that.”

The baby moves in your belly, bringing a smile to your face. You look up at the woman, see her friendly face, and thank her, before slinking away and finding Pero at another stand. He takes the basket from you, offers you his arm, and you walk home together. As you put away your purchases in the kitchen, Pero breathes life back into the fire, and you sink down onto a chair with a sigh. He runs his gaze over you, a frown on his face.

“Are you okay, my love?”

“Just a little tired,” you promise as you rub your belly. The baby kicks against your hand before settling down, maybe to sleep. You look at your husband, crouching by he fire, and clear your throat.

“Pero?”

“Yes?”

“Do the men in the village talk about… pregnancy?”

He looks up at you again. “What do you mean?”

“The women – “

“Women talk a lot of rubbish,” he scoffs, and you grimace at his dismissal of your sex.

“Sorry,” he immediately apologizes, and you glare at him to let him know that he is only barely being let off the hook. “Tell me, my love, what do they say?”

“They talk about pregnancy, how the baby is carried, what sex it probably is, cravings, pains, aches… and intimacy. And I was wondering if men do the same.”

Pero directs his attention to the fire for a moment.

“They do speak of the pregnancy, but more of the children once they are born,” he tells you softly. “They speak of what it is to watch a child grow, how to provide for it, the way you worry about it all the time.”

“But nothing of the pregnancy?” you press, and he shoots you a teasing smile.

“A little, but only things I will not repeat to you.”

“Pero, I am no dainty little thing that you have to protect!” you roll your eyes, and Pero laughs before putting another log on the growing fire, then closing the hatch.

“I do know that, wife,” he acknowledges. Coming to his feet, he walks over to you, and sinks to his knees before you.

“I will tell you what they say,” he rumbles, his deep voice making your heart skip a beat. “Many of them speak of wives who become voracious when heavy with child.”

His hands, warm and large, rest softly on your knees, and start to carefully separate your thighs. You lick your lips quickly, leaving your mouth open as your breath turns heavier.

“They speak of wives who crave cock every single day.” Pero lifts your skirt up, leaning in to kiss the inside of your thigh. “They say that fucking a pregnant wife is the best feeling in the world.” He presses another bristly kiss to your sensitive skin. “To fill her already full womb even more…” Another kiss. “To have her sensitive cunt wrapped around your cock… how she mewls underneath you as you fuck your seed into her… it is heaven.”

He looks up at you, eyes dark, a smug smirk on his lips. “And they are right.”

“Pero,” you beg breathlessly, your cunt dripping from his words, your body ablaze for his touch.

“Come here, my love.”

He pulls you down on the floor, and you help him undo his trousers to get his cock out. Crouching astride him, feet firmly planted on the floor, you sink down his length, Pero supporting you with strong arms, even he can no longer reach around you. You ride him with impatience, one hand on his shoulder, the other gripping his leg behind you, your lips on his lips, his neck, his shoulder.

“My love,” he gasps, “take what you need from me, use me, just like that, use my cock…”

You whine before baring your throat and hanging your head back, chest out, Pero dipping down to suck a leaking nipple into his mouth. You moan as your body is in spasms from the sweet release, and Pero plants a hand on the floor behind him, and thrusts up into you, grunting with effort as he seeks his own climax. You encourage him with moaned filthy words of your own, choked out as he slams into you, again and again, until he grips your buttock hard to keep you still on his cock, and you feel him fill up your core.

He lays down on the floor after, pulling you down next to him to give you a sweet kiss.

“My darling wife,” he sighs before kissing you again.

“My darling husband,” you smile, a satisfied shudder running through you as his seed oozes out between your swollen lips. “I am utterly disheveled. I won’t be able to show myself at the sewing circle later today.”

“Good,” he yawns, pulling you closer. “It is a husband’s duty to keep his wife disheveled with his love.”

“I cannot argue with that,” you giggle, and he kisses you yet again.

It starts in the early hours of the darkest winter morning. You wake up from a sharp pain, and before you’re properly awake, you realize that your nightgown is soaking wet. As you sit up to light a candle, another stab of pain makes you whimper, and you drop the fire striker. Pero stirs and reaches for you, only to be awake and sitting straight almost immediately.

“It has started,” you whisper. “I’m all wet. Pero, light a candle.”

He does as he’s told, and you throw the covers to the side, finding that your water has broken. No blood, as you secretly feared, but only water.

“I’ll get the midwife,” Pero tells you resolutely, but you can hear the worry in his voice. “My love, are you in very much pain?”

“Not too much,” you reassure him, getting out of the bed as he springs up to get dressed. You pull your shawl over your shoulders and start walking around, as the women of the village have told you to do. The pains come in sharp stabs, but they’re manageable.

Pero looks desolate to leave you, but you wave him off with a smile and a kiss.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, just go get her.”

When the midwife arrives, she gives you a quick examination before shaking her head.

“Go back to bed,” she tells both of you. “It’s going to be another day or even two before it starts, so get all the rest you can.”

“Are you sure?” Pero demands in his most imposing voice. The midwife does not even blink as she collects her things.

“Make her as comfortable as you can.” She turns to you. “Rest but walk around every chance you get. And if something seems amiss, come get me again.”

She takes her leave, and Pero grumbles about the lack of sympathy. You, however, have heard a lot more about labor, so you just shake your head at him.

“Help me change the sheets, husband, and come to bed. You heard what she said.”

“You are in pain!”

“It’s not so bad anymore,” you tell him truthfully, and start to strip the wet sheets from the bed. Loath to have you do it by yourself, Pero comes to help you, giving him something else to think about. When you’re back in bed, embraced and sleepy yet too nervous to rest, he caresses the roundness of your belly.

“I can’t wait to meet our baby,” he whispers to you.

“I feel the same.”

“What are you hoping for? A boy or a girl?”

“I don’t care,” you yawn, “as long as it’s healthy. Any child that is half you is going to be perfect.”

“I love you.”

“And I love you.”

Late in the following night, the contractions change, become more intense and frequent. You send Pero to the midwife again, and this time she stays. You have prepared during the day so there are linens and boiled water to be had. Pero is dismissed from the bedchamber, and you see that he wants to fight the midwife on that decision, but you just shake your head at him, and he heeds your wish. But when the midwife tells you that you are crowning, that the baby is coming, and the contractions are sucking all the strength from your muscles, you scream for your husband. He nearly takes the door off its hinges as he barges in, all but brandishing the sword he has not touched since his last caravan. He takes your hand between his and kisses it.

“My love,” he breathes, “my strong, beautiful wife. You can do it, I know you can.”

Your baby is born with a few pushes, and the first scream that cuts through the night makes your tears fall.

“You have a son,” the midwife announces as she wraps up the baby and puts it on your chest.

“A son,” you repeat, not really understanding the words.

“I have a son,” Pero mumbles, his voice thick. You glance up at him, but he is only looking at the baby.

“Pero…”

“I have a son.”

Suddenly, he spurts out of the room, leaving you to stare after him, mouth agape. You hear the front door slam open, and then Pero bellowing into the night:

“I have a son!”

You chuckle, tears streaming down your cheeks, and when Pero returns, his eyes are shining as well.

“My love,” he whispers. “My love. My life. I love you so much.”

You can’t speak, this is all too much, you are exhausted and hurting and happy and sweaty and bursting with joy. As the midwife retires to the kitchen, Pero lays down next to you, cradling the baby in your arms.

“My son,” he whispers, his voice thick. “We have a son, my love.”

“We do.”

“I will always take care of him, and of you, this I promise you.”

“You already do, my love,” you smile, and Pero kisses first your forehead, then the baby’s.

#the great wall fanfic #pero tovar fanfic #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x reader #my fic

[absurdthirst]

A Marriage of Convenience {Regency!Pero Tovar x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 20.5k

Warnings: Dying parents, arranged marriages, mentions of dying in child birth, fear, anxiety, panic attacks, poor Pero has PTS, virgin reader, vaginal sex, oral sex (female receiving), conversations about birth control, mentions of spousal beatings, pregnancy, childbirth

Comments: When your dying father sends you to Spain to wed Don Tovar, you know nothing about the man besides that he is a widower with two small children who will never love you. Finding your place in his household will take a stiff spine and a loving heart, making peace with your marriage of convenience.

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.

“Father, you cannot send me away.” You shake your head, dread welling in your stomach and you press your hand to the silken material of your day dress, the stays of your corset the only thing keeping you upright at this moment. Not that your stays are as tight as most of the noble ladies that come and go on the marriage mart. You have no desire to be married, to be chattel to a noble man and birth his children. Even though your father has just informed you that the man you are to marry already has children. A widower who is not so choosy as to a new wife that he is willing to take on an old maid who is nearly set upon the shelf and discarded at every social function during the season. 

Pero Tovar is the name of the man you are to wed. Not only are you to be married off, but you will be shipped away from your home. Sent to Spain with no one that you know around you. Completely without allies and unable to easily go home if you are unhappy. Your father had met him in London and arranged your marriage before returning home to inform you. “Please.” You beg softly. “Do not make me marry a man I have never laid eyes on.” 

“You have no choice. I am dying, daughter. You heard the doctor. I have months left. I do not wish to leave you without stability. The time has come for you to marry. I cannot allow you to delay it anymore. Tovar is a wealthy man. He has a large estate and two children from his late wife. He doesn’t need some young maid to birth children for his heir. He is stern but he has very strong morals. You’ll be safe with him and that’s all that matters. Please do not argue with a dying man.” Your father begs and you choke, tears stinging in your eyes as you embrace him and he rubs your back, knowing these moments before you go to Spain will be the last you spend together.

The day has come for you to leave your father, and despite your best efforts, you weep. Over the course of the month, he had grown more frail and could not even accompany you to Spain to see you wed in person. Embracing him in his sickbed, you know word would come that he had passed, your cousin inheriting the home you had grown up in, and all the wealth your father had accumulated. Your dowry is carefully packed into a large trunk, generous enough that if it had been known, several in London would have made you their wife. Instead, you will be Lady Tovar. “I love you.” You murmur, wishing you could stay until he had left this earth. “I love you father, I am sorry I was not the boy you wished to carry your legacy forward.”

Your father tuts, “don’t be silly, child. You are my life. After your mother died…you are everything to me. My world. I love you. If you could have everything, I’d give it to you.” He promises and cups your cheek, his hand shaking. 

Your eyes sting with tears and you grip his hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “I know.” You promise, reluctantly pulling back. 

“Go. Go live your life. Just promise me you’ll be happy.” He orders and you sniff, wiping your cheeks and you nod. It takes everything in you to leave his chambers but you do and you make your way down to the carriage to begin the start of a very long journey to Spain.

The trip to the ship takes nearly a week. A broken carriage wheel, a broken axle, and a thrown shoe from one of the horses. It seems as if the entire trip is cursed. You occupy yourself by writing letters and reading a few of the books you had packed into your reticule. Wondering if your father has passed already and praying that he has not. When you finally reach the ship, you sigh as you stare at the sails. Rather than just a short journey across the channel, it will be another week, sailing up the coast of Spain before you disembark. Your betrothed’s men should meet you there to carry you to his summer estate in the country.

When you step foot on land, you are relieved and exhausted, anxious and ready to be in your new home. Your husband to be doesn’t come to greet you, not that you expected that anyway but you are greeted by his secretary. “Señorita, I am Carlos. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Come this way, the carriage awaits us.” He says, gesturing to the horses behind him as the staff begins to gather your things to secure them for the final leg of your journey.

The carriage seems to be sturdy and soon you are pulling away. “Tell me about your lord.” You beg, having heard very little from your father beyond the rudimentary information. You want to know more about the man you are supposed to wed. “What is he like?” How a man treats his staff says a lot about him. That is what your father always told you.

Carlos looks at you, appraising you for a bit until he answers. “He is stern. Unforgiving but fair. He knows wrong from right and is only violent when the need occurs. He loved Maria, his first wife, but after she died, he has become a recluse. His children are cared for by the staff and he rarely interacts with them. If you want my honesty, señorita. The house needs life and love once again. It’s cold and lacking happiness.”

You bite your lip, repressing a small shiver. He sounds…..austere. Unyielding. You feel for the children who seem to have lost both their mother and father at the same time. “How old are the children?” You ask politely, aware that if he was not giving love and attention to his children, it would be your job. You remember how terribly you had missed your own mother, though your father had been your rock through grieving.

“They are five and seven. They do not remember their mother. Both too young. Luis - the youngest - was the child born when Maria lost her life. She doesn’t remember her mother. Alejandra, she - she doesn’t remember her either. They are - needing love and attention as all children do and their father - he is a busy man. That’s why he wanted a wife who was capable of nurturing his children when he is unable to.” Carlos explains and you glance out of the carriage as the Spanish port city turns to countryside.

“I see.” You wonder if the children are too painful a reminder of his late wife. If that was the reason he could not be around them. “And his holdings?” You ask. “He is a lord, is he busy with his lands?” 

Carlos nods and sighs. “My lord works long hours to make sure that the estates and the lands that are used by his people are properly maintained.” He tells you, making you feel a bit better about the situation. 

“Then I will make sure that he has a comfortable home and well behaved children to come home to.” You promise. 

Carlos nods, appreciating your compliance and he watches you as you look back out of the window. You are beautiful, have an air of maturity the other girls, the local ones, had lacked. His lord has been searching for a wife for a while, but no one has fit his criteria. He doesn’t want a simpering girl who wants romance, he needs a partner who can assist him with his home and his children. Carlos knows that Pero’s heart is cold, iced over after the death of Maria and he doesn’t know if anyone can melt it.

The good thing about you is that you know that love and romance are not expected, nor required in most marriages. You aren’t a starry eyed little girl who will wish that her husband falls desperately in love with her. From everything you are hearing, that would be quite impossible. You will settle for mutual respect. The rest of the journey is spent quietly thinking, making plans for your new home that could be tossed out the window the moment you arrive. You do not even know if your future husband will be there to greet you.

When you pull up outside of the summer home of Don Pero Tovar, it’s beautiful and instantly takes your breath away. It’s picturesque and grand but when you have a closer look, you can see the cracks, the work that needs to be done. The shutters are crooked and need new paint. The flowers are gone and the paint is peeling everywhere. “Oh. I- it’s beautiful but-” You start and Carlos finishes your statement, “it needs work. After Señora Maria died, Don Tovar just let the place go, too preoccupied to maintain it.”

You nod, understanding that he might not have had the heart to continue to look after the details that make his estate a home for his family. “Then I will hire workers to restore his home to its former glory.” You decide with a smile, eager to get to work and contribute.

Carlos hums as the carriage comes to a stop, “if he allows it. He - it’s - it’s almost like he is stuck in the past, never moving forward.” His eyes widen and he shakes his head, “please señorita, don’t - he mustn’t know I said that.” He murmurs and you nod, “it’s our secret.” The secretary exhales and reaches out to open the door to the carriage, stepping out and holding out his hand to assist you down.

There is no staff lined up to greet you. No betrothed waiting at the door to introduce you to his household. The pots next to the large double doors of the house are empty, filled with dirt and sticks. Providing an unwelcoming air and you try to think of it as some kind of omen. “Well, it is late.” You excuse, biting your lip as you look around.

Carlos looks guilty as he opens the door to guide you inside to find the housekeeper, Señora Garcia. “Come, let’s take you to your quarters and we shall start fresh in the morning, you have had a long journey and I’m sure you’d rather meet everyone after resting.” Carlos says and Señora Garcia nods, “also, your lady’s maid, Carmen, will be waiting in your room to help you prepare for tonight. We will bring dinner to your room.”

You tilt your head. “Prepare for tonight?” You ask, confused by what he means. “What is happening tonight?” Surely he does not mean that Lord or Don Tovar meant to wed you tonight after you’ve only just arrived? You have not even met the man, you had hoped to have a conversation before he becomes your husband. 

“The wedding.” Carlos says like you should’ve known. “Did no one inform you that Don Tovar wanted to be married as soon as you arrived?” You shake your head and Carlos sighs. “You are to be married tonight. Carmen will help you dress and we will bring your trunks up to your quarters. The wedding will be at eight. We will bring food to your room beforehand and a bath. You’ll be the lady of the house tonight.”

Closing your eyes, you try to suppress the tremble that races through you. Stiffening your spine and taking a breath before you open your eyes and nod. “I will be ready when Don Tovar says.” You agree, making Carlos nod in approval. “I would also like a cup of tea to be brought up, right away.” 

Carlos nods, “sí, señorita. I’ll make sure you get your tea.” He assures you and you sigh, following Señora Garcia up the stairs to your quarters. The house is dark and damp and there seems to be no sign of life anywhere. You immediately feel alone and cold, regretting leaving your home, your dying father for this pitiful estate.

****

By the time your tea arrives, it’s accompanied by your meal. Cold and unappetizing, you wonder why the cook would send you a plate such as this. Investigating your room, you find that it has not been properly aired out, dust still sitting on the window sills and the candle holders not refreshed with new candles. It seems as if you are to be un-welcomed or the staff who works here is completely unskilled in how to run a house. 

“Señorita, bienvenidos.” Carmen says as she walks in, “I am sorry I am late. I am your lady’s maid and I am here to assist you with getting you ready for your wedding to Don Tovar. Was your dinner acceptable, señorita?” She asks and notices your frown, “what is wrong?” She prompts, wanting to be there for the soon to be lady of the house.

“The meal was cold,” You explain, understanding that she is not to blame for that. “As was my tea.” You tilt your head and look at the lovely young woman. “Have you worked for the household for long?” You ask. “Is this how meals are normally delivered?” If it is some kind of custom, you would try to be more understanding, but you don’t think that it is. 

Carmen shakes her head, “absolutely not. I- you shouldn’t have had a cold meal and cold tea. Please, señorita, let me get you a new, hot -” 

You interrupt her, “no. It’s not - I’ve eaten it now and I do not have time to waste. I need to bathe and get ready for my future husband.” You inform her and she nods, “I will go fetch the hot water and we will get you ready.” She promises and rushes off.

You are grateful that your trunks have been delivered, your dress you had made clean, if slightly wrinkled from being packed. Airing it out, you had hoped you would wear this while marrying a man that you had met before, but it seems unlikely to happen now. You had not even heard any movement in the large house. 

Carmen works diligently to clean you up, washing your back and making sure the dirt from the journey has been washed off prior to your wedding. Once you’re dry, she works on styling your hair and soon enough, it’s time for her to help you into your dress. “What’s he like?” You ask her as she buttons your dress and Carmen bites her lip. “He’s…direct but fair.”

“That seems to be what everyone says about him.” You hum. “Is he a handsome man?” Carmen glances at you nervously. “He- some think him handsome. But-“ she glances around your empty bedroom and lowers her voice. “He has a - a scar. Over his left eye.”

You inhale sharply, wondering how a man like Tovar got a scar over his eye. You’re worried now, scared that he is going to be a rough man. “He’s a good Don, fair and harsh but I think you will be good to have in this house. We need light, we need love. It’s been missing for far too long.”

It doesn’t take much longer for Carmen to declare that you look perfect. Your nerves flutter in your stomach and you press your hand to it in a meager effort to calm them. “Then perhaps you can show me a little of the estate while we walk to the chapel?” You assume that there is a chapel on the grounds that you will be married in. Giving your maid a weak smile, you try to hide the fear. 

Carmen nods, “of course, señorita. Come, let us go now. Your intended will be waiting.” She says and you exhale shakily, trying to gather yourself to get married to a man you’ve never met before.

The estate is beautiful, the ground neglected like the house, although you can tell someone had once cared for them a great deal. You wonder if that was your soon to be husband's late wife. It doesn’t take long for you to see the stone chapel, overgrown and yet the soft candlelight coming from the windows gives it an enchanting glow. You take a deep breath and glance at the maid for some reassurances. 

Carmen squeezes your arm and winks at you, “everything will be fine.” She promises but you both know she has no way to assure that. You stand in the entrance of the chapel when the violin starts to play and you swallow harshly when Carmen gestures it’s time for you to go. You exhale shakily and step foot into the main hall of the chapel. 

**** 

When you step into the chapel, Pero keeps his back turned. Your father had shown him your miniature so he knows you are a beautiful woman. Not that it makes a difference. He has far exceeded the socially acceptable grieving period for Maria and now he’s expected to get a wife. He needs a mother for his children and a woman to maintain his estate. The music plays as you walk down the aisle and when you approach him, he turns around and inhales sharply when he sees your face. You’re gorgeous. A woman most men would kill to wed but he doesn’t care about looks, he cares about you filling the position that has remained empty in his home. He wonders if you like the look of him.

Your steps forward stumble briefly, but you recover. Catching your breath and smiling softly, you find him to be most handsome in a visceral, viral way. Rough and not exactly tamed, although many would say that you were possessed to think that way. HIs eyes are dark and watching you, making your skin heat and you wonder if your future husband approves of you. Stepping closer to him, you stop directly in front of him and take another breath. “Don Tovar.” You murmur, curtsying prettily. 

You curtsy so perfectly, it’s almost enough to make him smile but he doesn’t. He hasn’t since Maria died. His life is now black and white, his love taking all of the color in the world with her when she died during childbirth. “Señorita.” He greets you and takes your hands, turning towards the priest who was called to marry you. Pero’s secretary and Carmen are to bear witness to the marriage and Pero is glad there’s no audience to see him remarry a woman he doesn’t even know.

The priest recites the vows in Spanish and you follow along closely. Listening as he proclaims that marriage is a sacred duty to your husband and you can barely look at your intended. Sneaking a glance and trying not to fidget. “I do.” You murmur quietly when you are asked if you take the Don as your husband. Your eyes meet his and you bite your lip, wondering if he is unhappy. He is frowning, he must be unhappy with his decision to marry you. 

Pero remembers his wedding day to Maria. How excited he was. Young and eager before the days of war to marry the woman he loved. He was ready to have a future with her and it was ripped away from him on one fateful winter day. Tovar recites his vows and when the priest declares you husband and wife, he leans in to kiss your cheek. “Welcome, mi esposa.” He whispers once you are married.

A kiss on the cheek was not what you expected, turning to find his lips when he pulls away leaves you flustered. “Gracias, husband.” You murmur quietly. His secretary and your maid clap quietly and you turn back to them with a smile, thanking them for witnessing your vows.

Pero takes your hand to guide you out of the chapel and to the carriage awaiting to take you back to the main home. Pero doesn’t say a word as you are carted back and when you arrive, the housekeeper takes your hand to assist you inside. “There’s no need to arrange our bed chamber. My bride will be spending the night in her own room.” Tovar reveals with a grunt.

“Yes, Don Tovar.” Carmen nods and you are left feeling rejected even if you had been nervous about the wedding night. It is silly to think of, but you hope it’s because he wishes to get to know you before you become intimate. 

“Then I wish you a good night, husband.” You nod politely to him and wait for him to speak.

Pero turns to look at you, reaching for your hand and he bends down to kiss the back of it but it’s cold and emotionless. “Buenas noches, señora Tovar. I will see you tomorrow so we can discuss your duties. Carmen, escort her to her room. Garcia, vamos. We have much to discuss.” Tovar says to his secretary who nods and steps beside him as he strides over without a glance back towards you.

“I see what you mean.” You murmur to your lady’s maid as she starts to guide you back up the stairs. “He is devoid of much emotion, although at least he is polite.” It is better than some men that you had met. “Is there a library in the house?” You ask curiously. “I fear that I had brought many of my own books when packing my trunks.” 

“There is a library, señora. It- it needs organizing. It has been neglected for many years but the children do study there during the day. It needs a refresh. Perhaps you may ask Don Tovar if he will provide you with the tools to refresh the room where the children learn.” She says and you hum, letting her escort you back to your chambers. 

**** 

“She is beautiful, no?” Carlos asks his employer who grunts as he sits down in the chair, working on removing his shoes and his wedding attire, wanting to be comfortable. “She is but you know I don’t care for beauty. I need a woman to run the house. To show those fools in society that I have fulfilled their requirements. I don’t need her company, I just need her presence. Her father was desperate to marry her off before his death and her dowry was enough to keep her without spending my coin. She’s suitable for the role and I’m hoping the children will attach to her.” Pero says and Carlos nods, “we shall see.”

You wake up shrieking as a pitcher of cold water is tossed on your face while you lay in your bed. Bolting upright, you flail your arms, hearing giggling as you try to blink and see what or who is attacking you. Finding two children grinning at you in defiance as the oldest holds the empty pitcher in his hands. It is still dark outside, at least you think it is, for the curtains are still drawn over the large windows. Pero’s children. Your husband’s children have woken you up by throwing water on your face. You leap from the bed right as you hear the pounding of footsteps and the door to your room bursts open. 

“Alejandra! Luis! Mierda!” Pero growls as he storms into the room to find his children standing there with their hands behind their backs. “What is wrong with you?” He growls, turning to face you when he sees you are soaking wet, his eyes dipping down to the white gown you’re wearing, now see through and he swallows harshly at the sight of your nipples. Carmen rushes in and he turns towards her. “Gather water for a bath to warm her up and get her a robe.” Pero demands and turns back to his children. “I was walking past when I heard the commotion. You cannot do that. Why would you do that?” Pero hisses at his children who stare at him defiantly. 

“We thought it would be funny.” Alejandra answers and Pero inhales deeply. 

“That is not acceptable. You will miss breakfast and today, you’ll be writing lines - saying you will not abuse your new mother.” He says lowly and Luis shakes his head, “she isn’t our mama. We don’t want her. We want our real mama.” Luis stomps his foot and Pero pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“Go to your rooms before I get the belt.” He threatens, knowing he wouldn’t actually hit them but every day they test him and push him closer to physical punishment. 

“Papa-” Alejandra chokes and Pero hisses, “do not test me girl. Now get out of my sight.” He hisses and the children rush out of your room.

“I am sorry.” You murmur quietly, covering your arms over your chest and shivering in the cold. It is chilly in the room since there is not a fire laid in the grate and you wish that you did not feel so exposed with his eyes on you. “I- I do not know what happened.” you shake your head. “I was sleeping and then - I just - they do not wish for a new mother?” You had expected that the children were accepting of your new husband marrying again, but it is apparent they do not want you here. That will make things more difficult for you if you expect to forge any kind of bond with them. 

“They are loyal to their mother.” He answers curtly, wanting to add that he is too but he feels that would be too insensitive. “They will come around. They have been troublesome and I am hoping a female presence will help them adjust.” He says and Carmen rushes over with your robe to help you cover up.

“Thank you.” You wrap the robe around you and find that your husband does not seem to care for you being here any more than his children and you swallow harshly, feeling incredibly alone. “I see.” You nod and decide that you might as well broach the subject since he is here. “Then I have permission to discipline the children?” You ask him. “If they are to respect me, then they need to see me as an authority figure as well as a motherly one.” 

“Yes, but I do not physically punish them. You are welcome to discipline them as you see fit. I have struggled to control them. They do not seem to want to be around me and I - I must admit I am a little hopeless about how to handle them.” He confesses, “if you can control them, you’ll have my admiration.”

You nod, thankful that he will allow you to curtail his children’s rambunctiousness. “I also wish to reorganize the library and freshen up the house to make things more homey.” You add. You do not tell him that his home is desperately in need of repair, but that would be something that you would be able to tackle with a good scrubbing and a good airing out. “Would that be acceptable to you?” 

Pero nods, unable to argue with you when you are doing exactly what he wants to be done. He needs his home to be returned to its former glory and his children to be nurtured and loved in ways he has failed. “Very well, señora. I will let you prepare for the day. Breakfast will be brought to you and you are permitted to explore the house as you see fit. It is your home now.”

“Thank you.” You murmur quietly, wondering if you would ever have a meal with the man you call your husband. “However I will order dinner to be served in the dining room this evening.” It will be the first time you will have imposed your will and you wonder if he will dismiss your wishes. “Perhaps the children can join us?”

Tovar nods, “very well.” He doubts he will eat dinner with you. That implies that you are having some kind of relationship and that isn’t what this is. You’re here to fill a position like if he were to hire a new housekeeper. Pero stares at you for a moment before he steps back and makes his way down the hall to his office.

You blow out a breath, happy and yet slightly discontent with his answers and you feel like he has no intention of trying to get closer to you. It’s like he does not actually want you here, but needs you. “Well, good morning to you as well.” You huff sarcastically under your breath.

Pero continues on with his day, attending to the finances due at the end of the month for the tenant rents and salaries for the staff, signing off on the accounts for the food and necessities. It’s a laborious job but Carlos can only do so much. Your presence here will alleviate the household requirements from him but the estate needs maintenance. The day gets away from him and he is soon preparing for lunch.

You sigh, exhausted and wipe your brow as you collapse into a dusty couch and look around the room. The library will be days in the making to turn into a lovely place to read and teach the children. Who have been watching you warily and not paying attention to their tasks. They are seated at a table, their books open, but neither one of them has completed an assignment. “How do you like the gardens?” You ask, looking over at them. “Is it lovely to have picnics there for lunch?”

Alejandra glances at her brother before she answers you, “we don’t have picnics in the garden. Papa doesn’t really like for us to go outside.” She tells you and Luis nods his agreement, making you frown. “He says it’s dangerous to go outside in the gardens.”

You purse your lips, not remembering any kind of warning about staying out of the gardens. “Perhaps your papa means that it would be dangerous for you to go out there by yourselves?” you offer, standing up and wiping your hands on your apron that you had covered your day dress with. “Why don’t we see about having the cook make up some picnic food and we can take lunch out there? Explore and take in the fresh air.” It was obvious the children were bored and isolated, running around in the gardens would be good for you and them. Perhaps it would even help them like you.

Alejandra is cautious as she watches you, placing her pencil down so she can look at you properly. Luis tugs on her sleeve, shaking his head, and she pushes him off. “The garden, Luis.” She says pointedly and the little boy giggles, making you tilt your head. “What’s so funny?” You ask and Luis shakes his head. “Nothing.” Alejandra answers, “a picnic would be lovely.”

You frown but nod. “Alright. Put your books away and we will venture into the kitchen.” You smile. “Perhaps the cook has made cookies for us to have.” You shouldn’t bribe the children with sweets but you want to break through their prickly exteriors. They are still young and it has been a long time since their mother has been lost to them. “How does that sound?”

Luis nods, cautious but easily swayed by cookies. Alejandra is more reserved, offering you a look as she closes her book and you smile at her, trying to disarm her cautious nature. The children soon have their books stored away and they rush towards the kitchen, calling out for the cook who has become a mother figure for them. Señora Lola. “¡Ay niños!” She exclaims as they practically slide into the kitchen.

You can’t help but smile as the children greet the cook with obvious affection and your complaints about your first dinner being cold are forgotten for the moment. They hug the cook excitedly and both begin talking at once, turning and pointing to you. When the older woman looks up at you, you nod your head politely. “The children and I would like to have a picnic luncheon in the gardens.” You explain in Spanish. “Would we be able to put together a suitable fare for this?”

Lola nods, “of course, señora. I can prepare a basket for you and the children.” She assures you, “would you like a cup of tea while I prepare lunch?” She asks and you nod, moving to sit down at the kitchen table while the children tell Lola about their lessons. You can sense that she’s like a mother figure to the young ones and you’re glad they have had someone since their mother passed. Lola works fast to get you a cup of tea and the children a glass of milk while they wait.

“Thank you.” You watch as she moves about the kitchen, finding her to be quick and decisive as she gathers her ingredients. This is not a woman who is sloppy or resentful it seems. It makes you wonder why the food was so horrible the day before. When the kids are busy drinking their milk, you smile. “Tell me about yourself, Señora Lola. It is obvious you have been with the Don’s household for many years.”

Lola smiles, “my mother was the cook before she retired. My father was the Tovar’s butler and they fell in love and had me. Mi mamá taught me everything I know and we have been in the Tovar household for three generations. My son is a gardener. My husband is the groundskeeper. Maria - bless her soul - was the heart of the home. She lit up every room she was in.” Lola sighs and glances at the children.

“I understand that I am new.” You venture softly. “And I cannot replace Señora Tovar, but I would like to bring some comfort and happiness to her family.” You know that you can’t just force these people to accept you. Not when they had lived for so long with the ghost of the woman who had left them broken. You bite your lip. “Will you help me do that, Señora Lola?” 

Lola nods, “if you can bring hope and light back to this home, you will forever have my admiration and gratefulness, señora. You are Señora Tovar now.” Lola tells you and you bite your lip as she prepares the lunch.

Once the lunch is packed away in a basket along with a large bottle of lemonade, you have Carmen bring you a quilt to spread on the grass to sit on. Guiding the children out of the large, glass doors into the garden, you smile at the bright sun and fresh air. The weather is beautiful and you can see yourself bringing the children out here often. “Where would you like to sit?” You ask, looking around the neat but barren gardens. It’s obvious Lola’s husband keeps them up but there has not been any new flowers or plants added for some time. 

The children point to a spot near the pond and you allow them to guide you towards it. Carmen spreads out the blanket and you settle down with the children. Pero is standing up to stretch when he sees you and the children on the lawn. He tilts his head and wonders how you managed to get them to sit down for more than five minutes. Maybe he did make the right decision.

Eating outside seems to have been a magical treat for the kids. They ate politely and minded their manners after the promise of running around after they finished was made. You can tell they enjoyed it and by the time you had to pack up to go back to the house to finish their lessons they were sleepy. Making you smile at the way they leaned against one another.

**** 

“Señora, is this the color you prefer for the drapes?” Carmen asks you as you appraise the different materials and pattern samples. It’s been a month since you’ve been in Pero’s home and you have been slowly working on bringing the home back to its former glory. The children have grown closer to you, wanting their meals in your company, yet still no sign of your husband.

Pero walks down the hall, the portraits of his ancestors lining the walls and he notices the change of the decor. Everything seems dusted and shiny, and the rugs are pristine. It’s fresher and brighter. He knows it’s your doing and that makes him smile, assured he made the right decision to marry you.

“I think it will look lovely in the breakfast dining room, don’t you?” You ask, finding Carmen to be a wealth of information and a good judge of character and design. As the two of you had grown closer the more time you spent going through the house room by room. Even the kids were helping when it was time to scrub walls and beat rugs out in the garden. You had turned it into a game where you covered their eyes and spun them around before they whacked the rugs with a broom. They had giggled and fallen down, but it was worth the extra time it had taken to freshen the rugs. “Perhaps, even if he does not dine with me, Don Tovar might enjoy reading his paper and drinking his tea in a bright and cheerful room.”

“Papa! Papa!” Alejandra rushes up to her father who is shocked at her cheerful greeting. 

“Sí, mi tresoro.” He answers and she grins, “we are going into town today.” She declares and Pero frowns, not liking the idea. 

“Whose idea is this?” He asks lowly and Alejandra says your name. Pero sighs and tells his daughter to lead him to you. She takes his hand and guides him to the kitchen where you are sitting with Lola. “Hola.” He greets his cook who smiles at him and says “hola señor.” His dark eyes turn to you, “Alejandra tells me you are taking the children into town today?”

“I am.” You nod as you set down the book you are making notes in. Carmen hustles to put the fabrics away and you send your husband a small smile. “The children need new shoes and I have several merchants that I wish to visit.” You glance at Alejandra with a proud look. “The children have assured me that they will be well behaved, and they are excited to spend their own pin money.”

Pero frowns, “I do not like them going into town. I do not want you going into town. It is dangerous.” He says, remembering when Maria went into town while with child and was knocked over. She went into labor early with Luis and that’s the night that she died. His hands shake a little and he shakes his head, “you are not going. I forbid it.”

Your brow arches and you look towards Carmen and Lola. Both women quickly bow and disappear. “Alejandra,” you urge his daughter. “Go and find your brother.” You urge her as you stand up and brush your dress down. If you are going to disagree with your husband, you are not going to do it in front of the staff or his children.

Pero meets your defiant gaze and he clears his throat, “I will not allow you to go into town. It’s dangerous. If you need something, you can tell the staff and they will go and get it.” He compromises and you glance around to make sure no one is around.

“Don Tovar, I appreciate your concern for my well-being but I am not a child and I will not be held hostage on your estate.” You declare. “I will take a footman and a driver with me, and exercise all caution. But I am going to town. Now….is there anything you wish for me to get while we are there?”

Pero clenches his jaw, remembering that moment Maria was carried into the house, her screams still echo through the halls of his mind. “No. I forbid it. You won’t be leaving this estate. That’s an order.” He growls, reaching for your wrist to grip it, his hand shaking as he remembers the night Maria died.

You wince when he grabs your wrist, squeezing it hard enough that your breath catches in pain. You wrench your wrist away from him, yanking your arm down and stepping back, your eyes wide with both fear and anger. "I am your wife. Not your servant." You manage to keep the fear from making your voice tremble.

“You can’t go. I - I can’t - Maria - she- please. You cannot go.” He shakes his head, his chest starting to heave and he hates how anxious he’s become at the thought of losing more from his life. He has barely spent a moment with you since the wedding but the idea of his children losing another woman from their lives makes his chest tighten.

Fear turns to worry, making you step forward and reaching for his arm. “Pero?” You do not use his Christian name often, but you use it now. “What is wrong? Take a breath.” You urge him, frowning at the way that your husband has turned from cold and demanding to panicked. “Talk to me.”

He pants, unable to calm himself down, and he clings to you, pulling you close and he can’t control his thumping heart, remembering the night he lost Maria, the night he lost the light of his life. He closes his eyes, trying to control himself but he’s failing.

You nearly stumble, but you don’t resist him. Holding onto your husband’s waist while he trembles. He’s obviously horrified by the idea and you can’t understand why but you don’t want to make him do this. “Alright, alright, I will not go into town.” You give in, hating that you are but perhaps you can talk to him and come to agreement later on when he has calmed down.

Pero inhales deeply, remembering what his doctor told him to do, and he tries to calm himself down, grounding himself with your touch. He takes several moments before he opens his eyes, his gaze meeting yours. “I- I’m sorry, esposa.” He murmurs, his hands still gripping you.

"It is alright." You murmur soothingly, wanting nothing more than to make him feel comfortable around you. You are supposed to be here to help him, and it seems like he needs help with this. "I am here, I am right here." You assure him with a smile.

When you smile at him, he jerks back and lowers his hands, the shield back up as he gathers himself and clears his throat. “I, uh, I am going to go - go back to my office. I trust you will send Carmen in your place to town.” Pero says and quickly turns to rush back to his office, away from you and the children once more.

You stare after your husband, completely flabbergasted and frustrated. The man dictates that you must stay at the estate, not go to town and has an apoplexy before fleeing back to his study without giving you a reason why you must be a hostage. Blowing out a frustrated sigh, you turn and curse your husband's stubbornness. You need to know what happened to Maria and why town is forbidden.

Alejandra and Luis shake their heads when you tell them you are no longer heading into town. “Please. Tell Papa we must go!” Alejandra whines, clinging to your skirts. 

“I’m sorry, amor. He won’t allow us. We must listen to him.” You say and she shakes her head and looks up at you to stomp her foot. 

“I hate him!” She cries and runs off, followed by Luis. You sigh and sit down just as Carmen comes over with a tea tray. 

“Señora, I do not wish to speak out of turn.” She says and you shake your head, “when do we hide our feelings and thoughts, mi amiga.” You smile at her and she smiles back, glancing around when she takes a seat beside you. 

“Don Tovar has - has a lot of fears about you going into town because that was the night he lost Maria.”

You frown, unsure of why going into town would cause a woman to die in childbirth, but you take your tea and listen. “I do not understand.” You shake your head. “Maria died giving birth to Luis, I thought?” You frown, knowing you will need to soothe the children’s feelings later on, but you want them to be able to calm down before you try. If you know why your husband fears it so, you can explain better to disappointed young children who don’t understand why they cannot have fun. 

Carmen glances around again, “Maria was far along with Luis when she wanted to go into town to fetch more yarn for knitting. She - she was an independent woman and Don Tovar, he - he worshiped the ground she walked on. She loved him and he loved her. When she went into town, she was robbed for her jewels and coins and thrown to the ground and it sent her into early labor. The thugs were never apprehended and she was rushed home and the doctor was called. That was the night Luis was born and Maria died. They thought Luis was going to die too but he survived. Don Tovar was never the same.”

“Oh.” Your shoulders slump and you can understand why Pero is fearful of his wife going to town now. Even if he does not love you, the children have grown close to you and it would hurt them to lose you. “That is so sad.” You look down into your tea with a sigh and wish for a moment that this had been explained to you sooner. “I better understand why he is so hesitant, but he cannot think that the children will be kept here forever, does he?” 

“He has…attacks when he has concerns about the children’s safety. I think - I do not wish to speak out of place but I think that’s why he has pushed the children away.” Carmen says and you nod in understanding. “I think he wishes he could connect with them but it’s hard since all he sees is Maria. He loved her. She was his childhood sweetheart and they married young before he left to fight in the war.”

You sigh softly, knowing you would find it romantic if he didn’t push his children away. To close himself off from pain. “Then I will make him.” You decide with a firm press of your lips. “I will go talk to the children. Inform Lola that the children and I will be taking lunch in Don Tovar’s study.” You decide. “Since he refuses to take his meals in the dining room, we will come to him.” 

Carmen won’t argue with you, knowing it is futile, so she nods. “Very well, señora. I will tell Lola now and will let Carlos know.” 

You shake your head, “not Carlos. I want it to be a surprise.” You say and she nods, “sí, señora.” You smile and she stands, bowing her head before she exits the room, leaving you with the news to tell the children. 

**** 

Pero looks up from his papers when there is a knock on the door and he calls out “come in.” When you enter followed by the children, he’s shocked. “Señora?” He frowns, setting his pen down.

“Husband.” You send him a smile and guide the children over to the table that sits in front of the sofa and they sit down. Alejandra is still pouting, but her tears have dried and she is not so angry when she was told her papa feared for her safety. “Carmen will be bringing in our lunch soon.” You explain with a cheerful smile. “I thought that since you work so hard and are so busy, we would join you here to have lunch together.” 

Pero’s frown deepens, “lunch together? Are you not able to have lunch in the kitchen?” He asks and you raise your eyebrows at him. 

Pero bites his lip and you answer him, “the children would like to spend some time with their father seeing as we are no longer going into town.” You say and Alejandra stands up to walk over to Pero, reaching for his hand, “please papa. Let us have lunch together.” Her pout is Pero’s unraveling as he nods, standing up from his desk chair to walk towards the sofa.

Luis grins, unaware and still too young to understand his father’s hesitancy, but he begins to tell his father about the Spanish Armada that the governess is teaching the children about lately. “Sí, mijo. The English defeated us.” His dark eyes meet yours as he answers questions Luis excitedly asks him and he seems to relax a little. Lola and Carmen bring the meal in and the four of you begin to eat.

“I have decided to ask Carmen to direct any traveling merchants to our house when they are going through town.” You take a sip of your tea and look at your husband. “As well as inquire about children that are near Luis and Alejandra’s age that might wish to come play with them. Soon the house will be ready for visitors.”

Pero frowns, “why would we require merchants to come to my home?” He asks as he picks up his glass of wine. “And for the other children…I suppose it will be good for them to mingle with others.” He concedes that point, glancing at you and he’s taken back once again by your beauty, especially when the light hits your face.

“We require merchants to come to your home because the children need new shoes, their own are pinching their feet and the cobbler cannot make their shoes without measuring their feet.” You point out. “Also, I enjoy socializing and since I am not permitted to go to town, I will simply have town come to me.”

Pero sets his wine glass down, “I suppose that is for the best. I want the children to have everything they need, I want you to have everything you need. You - I am guessing one of the staff told you about Maria?” He asks, curious if anything has been said about his behavior.

You could lie to him, but you don’t. “I was told about the night Luis was born.” You admit softly, understanding how such a thing could haunt the man, especially since he was a soldier in the war. You wonder if the poor boy you have come to love even gets any acknowledgement on his birthing day, or if grief is too overwhelming. “You have my deepest sympathies.”

Pero swallows the lump that always forms in his throat when he thinks about Maria and that fateful night. In a way, he’s glad he didn’t have to discuss it with you, to relive that horrid night, but another part of him knows he needs to discuss it with you, to tell you why he brought you here and has yet to consummate the marriage. That time is not now though with the children here. “Gracias, mi esposa. I- I would like to have supper with you tonight…if you want.”

Your head tilts in surprise but you don’t voice it. “That would be lovely, Don Tovar.” You murmur softly, aware that he is asking for a dinner that is apart from the children. “I will ask that Lola makes your favorite dish.” You offer, smiling slightly. “Do you have any preference for dessert?”

Pero’s gaze dips down to your cleavage. You are a beautiful woman and he has not indulged in pleasure since Maria died apart from a few times where he had spent his coin and then felt incredibly guilty after when he felt like he was betraying his beloved wife. Tonight is about giving your marriage a chance, giving you a chance when he’s been so closed off from you since your wedding night.

You don’t miss the way that your husband's eyes dip down to your breasts and you wonder if he has finally decided to acknowledge that he has a wife. You aren’t ignorant of the relationship between man and wife and yet you have still retained your chastity well into your marriage. Pero mumbles something about a sweet and you nod. “I will make sure that is what you get, if you so desire.”

He nods in appreciation and Luis takes his attention by handing him a cookie from the tray. “Gracias, mi amor.” Pero smiles at his son. 

“Papa, will you come and ride with us tomorrow?” Alejandra asks, wanting him to join them for their riding lessons. 

“I- I am busy, mija. I-” 

Alejandra shakes her head, her lower lip trembling. “Papa. I want - please.” She begs and Pero looks at you, a little lost.

“Your Papa is a very busy man, sweetheart.” You remind her gently. “Although, I believe that he should be able to join you for at least one hour? Yes, Don Tovar?” You ask, glancing from Alejandra to your husband. It will allow the children to see their father and still not take too much time away from his busy work. Although you feel as if he spends much of his time working so he does not have to grieve. “How does that sound?” 

Alejandra nods, “please papa. Just an hour. Por favor.” She pleads and Pero nods, not wanting to see his daughter so pouty. 

“Sí, mi amor. An hour. Let’s go riding for an hour.” He compromises and she surges forward to hug his arm, “¡gracias, papa!”

You smile at your husband’s shocked face when his daughter smothers him in affection. Nodding when he looks over at you, asking if he is doing things right or perhaps seeking help. He’s doing something that will make his children very happy and it’s a good thing. “Now we need to finish eating.” You tell the children. “Papa needs to get back to work, so finish your lunch so we can leave him to it.” 

Pero nods, rubbing Alejandra’s back and he leans down to kiss her head. He can’t deny the way his heart twists at how much he’s missed out on with his little girl and his son. He knows he needs to be a better father to them. “Let’s finish eating.” He says and Alejandra nods, letting go of her father to settle down to eat. Lunch is finished in companionable silence and Pero is soon kissing his children on the head, promising them he will have dinner with them tomorrow.

“Go start your studies again.” You tell the children, smiling when they rush off and you turn towards your husband, slightly flustered to be alone with him for the first time. “I will clean up and get this mess out of your hair.” You promise. “Thank you for not turning them away. They talk about their papa every day and want to spend time with you.” 

Pero smiles, watching the children rush off after kissing his cheek then yours, and Pero watches them with his heart thumping. “Gracias, señora. You - you brought me back to my children and I- I never knew how to bridge the gap. I- I cannot repay you for that.”

“There is no need for repayment, Don Tovar.” You assure him, still calling him by his formal title since he has never permitted you to use his Christian name. “That is my job.” You know that he would rather be quit of your presence so you nod and quickly turn around to gather the meals up onto the trays to be carried back to the kitchen. 

Pero swallows harshly, “please…call me Pero.” He says and reaches for your hand. He squeezes it, and his heart twists as he thinks about you and how beautiful you are yet he feels like he’s betraying Maria.

“P-Pero.” you murmur, feeling shy now that he has stopped you from your task. You bite your lip as you stare into his dark eyes, wishing that you could tell him how handsome you find him. “Is there - something else you wished for, Pero?” You ask quietly. 

Pero stares at you for a moment before he withdraws his hand. This is progress but he knows he shouldn’t venture into his attraction to you. It will only lead to heartbreak, either his or the children’s. “No. That is all. I shall see you later for supper.” He says and clears his throat.

You are disappointed, knowing that he wanted something else but you don’t push him. He had shown that he had no wish to have a relationship with you. “Yes, Don Tovar.” You revert back to your formal politeness and you pick up one of the trays and you will send Carmen in to gather the other. “Good afternoon.”

Pero frowns, wishing to hear his Christian name from your lips and when you carry the tray out of the room, he leans back against the chair, sighing and rubbing his face. He wants this to work. He needs this to work. For the children’s sake. Dinner tonight will be his chance to redeem his terrible behavior.

The rest of the day is spent with the children. After asking Lola to make the Don’s favorite meal, you had finished their lessons and then took them down to the kitchen for both their dinner and their baths. Laughing when they pouted when getting into the water, and then pouting when they had to get out. Once they are clean and in their nightclothes, you chatter and joke with them as you take them back upstairs to put them to bed. Leaving you little time to get ready for dinner with your husband, but it is for the best. You had no time to think about why he wanted to have dinner with you now, so long after your marriage.

Pero adjusts his jacket - not the latest trends but well made, none the less- and he paces in the dining room, wondering if you aren’t coming as the minutes tick by. When you finally appear, you look beautiful and his heart flutters in his chest after laying dormant for so long. He strides forward, taking your hand in his and leans down to press his lips to the back of your hand. “Esposa, you look beautiful.”

“Forgive me for being late, Don Tovar.” You curtsy for him and hate how handsome he is in his evening jacket. “The children were begging for another story before bed and I could not say no.” Your own preparation for dinner had been rushed and you hope that he is not disappointed by your appearance.

Pero shakes his head, “don’t be silly, esposa. The children come first. I trust they are in bed?” He asks and you nod, “they are asleep and in bed.” You smile and Pero keeps your hand in his so he can guide you to your chair. He pulls it out and helps you sit before he makes his way over to his own seat.

Once you are seated, Pero sits across from you and Carmen immediately marches into the dining room with the first course. “Don,” you venture, smiling your thanks to Carmen as she sets down the soup. “I believe that we should hire more staff.” You tell him. “My maid also acts as the housekeeper and now she is serving our dinner. I believe that we need a butler and perhaps a full time housekeeper. That way we are not overworking our staff.”

“You are in charge of the household. If you wish to have another, I will have Carlos and Lola ask around in town.” 

You lift a brow in surprise, your soup spoon nearly to your mouth and you take your bite and swallow before you respond. “Thank you, I will have them ask immediately.” You smile at him again and Pero glances back down at his own soup as if he is shy. “The children are excited about riding with you tomorrow. I was surprised they had not learned already but they have come so far in their lessons.” If it is a rebuke, it is a small one. The children had been very far behind in their lessons and some had not started at all. You had been working diligently to get them on track to where they should be. “They are very bright children. You should be very proud of them.”

Pero’s stomach twists with guilt. He barely knows his children. He doesn’t know that they are behind in their studies when you mention they have much to learn. The guilt twists in his stomach again and he knows he can’t hide from them anymore. “I am.” He answers softly, offering you a rare smile. You are so kind, he doesn’t want to tarnish you with his sins.

Surprised by the smile, you offer one of your own and hope that he is starting to care. You continue to eat in silence, waiting for Pero to talk to you but the silent sounds of eating settles between you. It’s sad, really. This man doesn’t have more questions about his children and doesn’t seem interested in them. When you are done, you set your spoon down and quietly wait for the next course.

Carmen brings in the next course and Pero is struggling to find the words to make conversation. It’s been so long since he had dinner with someone and he’s a little out of practice with his etiquette. “Are you liking Spain or do you miss your home?” He asks you after rubbing his hands together.

“Truly?” You shrug one shoulder and look down at the plate in front of you. “I have not seen much of the country since the carriage ride to your estate.” You remind him, trapped here by your husband’s wishes. “But what I have seen is beautiful. Carlos is very hopeful we can restore the gardens and the greenhouse to their former glory.” You had learned that Pero had ordered that the garden not be planted, just maintained. As flowers would die off, they would not be replanted. At least until you had arrived. You suppose it was because Pero’s first wife had loved spending time in the gardens. The little pond of water had apparently been her favorite spot. 

Pero wants to bite out that the gardens are not to be touched but then he remembers why he brought you here to marry him. He needs someone to maintain his home. “Perhaps we can take a ride soon, I would like to show you my country.” He says softly and looks up after he cuts into his meat.

“I would like that.” He might not mean it. Might not ever do it, since he seems to blow so hot and cold, but you smile. “I have missed riding.” You haven’t gone for rides since the children would want to come with you and they were not accomplished enough to go so far and you do not know the area. “But there has been plenty to keep me busy. Have you any opinion on the changes, Don Tovar?” 

Tovar looks out of the window to the beautiful gardens, now full of flowers after your dedication to the garden, and he turns to look back at you. “The gardens looks gorgeous, mi esposa.” He says and turns back to his meal. “You are bringing the estate back to its former glory.”

“Thank you.” You feel proud that even if he is a man who does not interact with you much, that he sees your improvements to his home. “Was there anything that you wished to discuss with me?” You ask quietly. “I thought that might be why you asked me to have dinner with you?” 

Pero sighs, setting down his cutlery. “I wanted to discuss…if you were looking to have children of your own. We never got a chance to discuss it and I wanted to address the matter as it would mean us…consummating our marriage.” He says, trying to be as matter of fact as possible.

“I had hoped to one day have children.” You confess setting your own cutlery down and hate how handsome he is despite how aloof he acts. “I have put those dreams aside, now.” You look away, back down at your food and you aren’t hungry anymore. “It does not seem that you are interested in….consummating our marriage.”

Picking up his glass of wine, Pero knows he has failed in your marriage already. He’s been selfish and he isn’t sure how he can fix it. The thought of betraying Maria in this final way has his stomach twisting. “Are you- are you interested in consummating the marriage?” He asks softly.

You need to be honest with him. So you are. “I am not interested in being used.” You admit bluntly. “I have no experience with intimate relations, but I do know what to expect.” You assure him. “However, I would not accept being used to fulfill your needs and then ignored until the next time you have use of my body.” You could very well ruin your chances of any kind of relationship with Pero, but he asked. “You are a very handsome man, and I have found myself thinking about you often, but if you have every intention of satisfying your lust and then pretending I don’t exist until the next time you want to touch me, I would rather you just leave me untouched.

Pero nods, appreciating your candor and the way you hold yourself. It makes you more attractive to him. He sips his wine as he contemplates his answer. “I do not wish for you to feel used and I am not capable at this time of more than physical release. If you wish to experience pleasure, I will ensure you are satisfied with our marital bed. However, if you yearn for an emotional connection, then I would suggest we permanently place any relations on hold.”

You smile, albeit sadly. “Don Tovar, I have never expected love in an arrangement. I am not a silly, romantic girl. However, I will require you to respect me if we were to share our marital bed. Take your meals with me and perhaps some evenings beyond our pursuit of pleasure. I don’t require your heart, I know your first marriage was one of love and your affections still lay with your late wife.”

Pero is taken back by your refute to his offer but he appreciates your directness. “Very well. I assure you that I will try my best to ensure you are satisfied physically. Shall we - would tonight be appropriate or do you wish to wait until it happens naturally?”

You hum, amused by the idea of physical relations happening naturally with a man who has not spent more than two hours in your presence since you have been married to him. Perhaps it is foolish, but you want to know what it is like to be touched. “Tonight is fine.” You assure him and pick up your cutlery again. “Do you have any preference for physical intimacy? I do not have any reference, so I will need to be told if there is something I should not do. Or should do.”

Pero nods, “very well. Let us finish our meal and I will allow you as much time as you require to get ready for our consummation.” He assures you and continues to cut into his meal so he can finish eating. Dessert is soon served and you eat in companionable silence before the dishes are cleared away. “Take your time.” He tells you as he stands and waits for you to gather yourself from the dining room table.

You nod. “Give me twenty minutes.” You ask as he takes your hand to walk you to the stairs. “Then I will be ready.” You noticed that he did not answer you about his preferences but figure that he would just show you tonight. After all, it is a husband's job to teach his wife about how he prefers love making.

Pero watches you walk up the stairs and he exhales shakily, realizing that this will be a big step towards cementing your marriage as husband and wife tonight. He clears his throat and makes his way to his chambers to clean himself up. It’s been a while since he’s been intimate but he remembers that women do not like being with men who smell like a long day. He washes and dresses in his linen nightshirt, deciding to keep things simple for the act. Inhaling deeply, he makes his way down the hall to your chambers.

Tovar knocks on the door, heart thumping in his chest, and when you call out for him to come in, he slowly opens the door. “Hola, esposa.” He murmurs after he shuts it behind him. He takes in your figure, glowing in the firelight and his cock twitches under his shirt.

“Hello, husband.” You bite your lip and wonder how he will approach you and this. “What- what do you want me to do?” You ask, watching him carefully, more nervous than you had expected to be. You don’t think he will hurt you, but you had been told the first time is painful and that you would learn to enjoy it. “Do you wish me to get on the bed?”

Pero shakes his head, walking over to you to take your hands in his and he exhales shakily, suddenly nervous. It’s been so long since he’s been with a woman, especially his wife. His heart clenches when he briefly thinks of Maria but he pushes that aside. “Esposa, eres hermosa.” He murmurs, letting go of your hand so he can reach up to caress your cheek. You are beautiful and any man would be lucky to have you as their wife. You deserve better than him, than some half shell of the man he used to be. He slides his hand down to caress your neck and your collarbone, his fingers playing with the edge of your gown. “Can I take this off?” He asks, his dark eyes meeting yours, burning like embers in the flames of the fire.

Mouth dry from that simple touch, you nod. Watching him as his eyes seem to shine like a dark flame and you can help but to think that he is most handsome. His hands skim down over your waist and he tangles the material of your nightgown in his fingers and slowly starts to drag it up. Exposing you to the warmth of the fire and it makes you even hotter as your skin starts to burn from the simplest touch. Tonight you will just let him touch you, hopefully show you what he likes. Maybe you can help him by letting him find pleasure with you.

Pero tosses your gown to the floor and steps back, his dark eyes running down the length of your body. His eyes focus on your tits, swallowing harshly as his gaze lowers to the thatch of curls at the apex of your thighs. “Hermosa.” He murmurs, stepping closer to you, and he reaches out to caress your waist, pulling you up against his body. “Tell me if you want to stop. Or you don’t like anything.”

You nod, wanting to touch him but you don’t ask. Knowing you would hate feeling rejected if he pulled away. Your breathing stutters as his fingers slide up and brush the underside of your breast, nipple hardening and you bite your lip so you don’t moan wantonly. “Pero….” Your whisper is soft, pleading and you wonder why you are so eager to have this man touch you.

His hand squeezes your breast until he notices that you want to touch him so he reaches for your hand, bringing it to his chest. “You can touch me, esposa.” He assures you, inhaling the scent of your bath oil as he leans in to run his nose along the length of your neck.

His own dressing gown is hanging open at the neck and your fingers slide inside to touch hot, tanned skin. Biting your lip and trying to concentrate as his fingers brush over your nipple and make you gasp. Looking down, you see the gown tenting over his cock and your cheeks burn, but you are curious to see what it looks like, reaching down and brushing the fabric close so you can see better.

Pero hisses when your innocent fingers brush his cock. He reaches down, guiding you to wrap your fingers around him. His skin is hot and velvety and you explore him with utter lack of knowledge but he enjoys it. He likes that you have no expectations of him. He can just feel. He murmurs your name and his hand lets go of yours, letting you explore him while his palms continue their own adventure, palming your ass in his grip.

It feels wicked and yet you know that it is perfectly natural to touch him. You need to learn how he feels since he is perhaps the only man you would ever sleep with. Unless you remarry and your husband is obviously a hale and hearty man. “It is so hard.” You murmur in wonder. “And yet so soft.” You gasp when you feel a wetness on your skin and look down to see a smear of liquid on your finger.

He refrains from chuckling at your virginal observations. “Take your time, esposa. We are in no rush. No rush at all. I want to make sure you feel good.” He assures you and he slides his hand down between your legs, finding you wet and wanting him. He loves that and he is going to make you cum. From his fingers, from his cock. He finds your clit and loves the gasp that escapes you as he starts to rub the bundle of nerves.

Your eyes flutter closed and you hand to cling to his shoulder before your knees buckle. “Oh…ohhhh my….” You whimper, your grip on his cock loosening. You don’t know what he’s doing to you but you need more of it. “Pero.”

Pero grabs your waist, keeping you upright and pressed against him while he works your clit. His lips brush your neck by accident and you shiver against him. He rubs your clit a little faster, wanting you to cum for him for the first time. “That’s it, esposa.”

He doesn’t seem to mind touching you, increasing how fast he is rubbing but he’s groaning against your ear and encouraging you. For what you don’t know, you just know that your stomach is fluttering and clenching right up until stars burst behind your eye and you gasp as your cunt clenches on its own and a wave of heat floods your core.

Pero keeps you upright, working you through it and groaning when you bury your face in his neck. He groans your name softly and slides his finger back to gently push it inside of you, wanting to stretch you out so you feel less pain when he finally fucks you.

“Ohhhhhh.” Your eyes wide, mouth hit against his skin as you moan. Surprised to feel his fingers inside you and your body jolts when he pushes them up and presses against something inside you, “oh Pero.” You whimper, closing your eyes and unable to help yourself, you kiss his neck.

He curls his fingers, knowing he needs to make this good for you. He pushes his fingers a little deeper, loving the way you kiss his neck and he knows he should stop you but the intimacy makes his heart twist, his stomach clench. It’s been so long since he enjoyed the touch of someone else. “Fuck.” He curses, his cock twitching.

“Is this- is this how it feels?” You pant softly, your hips rocking up to his hand. Chasing the feeling that he pulls out of you. “All the time?” You are surprised that there aren’t more babies in the world if sex feels like this.

“Sometimes.” Pero chuckles softly, adding another finger, “sometimes it feels good, sometimes it’s just a physical release to relax. Quiero - I want you to feel like this all the time we are intimate, mi esposa.” He murmurs, his hand squeezing your ass to encourage you to rock down onto his fingers.

You feel so good, rocking on your feet as you wantonly move in your husbands arms. Kissing along his neck every time you grind down onto his finger, you feel that sensation start to build inside of you again. “Pero.” You whimper, clutching his shoulders and clenching around his fingers. “Pero- I- again- it’s- it’s-“ you cut yourself off with a small cry, another wave of pleasure and heat flooding you and making you forget about everything but the bliss of his fingers.

The way you clamp down on his fingers has his cock leaking. To hear you so unabashedly enjoying yourself has him groaning and he works you through it. His fingers soaked and he knows you are ready to take him. “Mierda.” He hisses, pressing his cock against your hip as you come back down to earth. Soon enough, he’s withdrawing his fingers and he wipes his fingers on his nightgown. “Come on, esposa. Lay down. I want to fuck my wife.” He says with a slight smile, knowing it’s taken way too long to get to this point in your marriage.

You hum, nearly floating on a cloud as you walk over to your bed and pull the covers back. Climbing into the bed and knowing that you will come out of it properly wed is thrilling and you lay back amongst the pillows. Watching as he walks towards you. “Are you going to remove your shirt, husband?” You ask softly, wanting to see your husband as fully as he has seen you. There is no love between you, but there will be passion and you wish to know what he looks like. 

Pero bites his lip, wondering if he will be good enough. If you will like the scars on his body from his battles won in the war. He exhales shakily and nods, reaching for the hem of his shirt so he can lift it over his head, fully exposing his body to you as you lay in your bed.

He is strong, you can tell that from the corded muscles that spoke of your husband doing much more than just being an idle lord. Bunching and rippling as he stands still for you inspection, you don’t hesitate to let your eyes roam over him. Widening slightly when you get your first look at his cock without some fabric blocking your view. “You are…handsome.” You admit breathlessly. “It- you make my core throb.”

Your words surprise Pero and he smirks, slightly cocky that you are satisfied with his appearance. He shifts closer to the bed until he is kneeling on it, his fingers caressing your ankle bone and up your leg. “That’s good. That’s lust, esposa. Do you desire me? Do you want me inside or you?” He asks, kneeling between your thighs and he doesn’t touch you so you can make the final assessment before he consummates the marriage.

Even though you are innocent, you are aware of what should happen. Feeling bold by the lust that is in his own eyes, you spread your thighs to reveal the thatch of curls covering your core. “Please, Pero.” 

“Mierda.” Tovar mutters and caresses your thighs. When he looks into your eyes and sees your certainty, he nods and reaches down to grip his cock. Shuffling closer, he notches himself at your entrance and slowly, so slowly, pushes inside of you. “Fuck.” He pants, trying to control himself but you’re so wet and tight. He exhales shakily and pushes deeper, wanting to make sure you are as comfortable as possible despite him taking your innocence.

You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling a pinch but it is not the painful experience that you had been led to believe that it was. Moaning softly as you feel him deep inside, seemingly deeper than his fingers had been, and throbbing. Your fingers dig into his shoulders again and you slowly open your eyes as you breathe out. “Pero.” 

The urge to bury himself inside of you is strong but he remains in control, slowly rocking his hips so he can work his cock deeper inside of you until he is settled inside of you. He knows you are a keen horse rider so your innocence was likely taken during a saddling but he doesn’t care. He’s damaged goods himself and he knows some men would want you to be intact but this is kinder to you and to him. He closes his eyes once he’s fully inside of you, his fists clenched as he tries to not spill his seed before you can experience the pleasure of sex.

“I- I feel so full.” You whimper, your fingers dragging across his skin and your legs shuffling slightly. He’s so still on top of you and it makes you want to move, need to move. To chase the same sensation you felt when you had his fingers inside you. You gasp when you think of what you heard your maids back home giggling about. Riding a man as if he were a horse and you clench down around him thinking about riding Pero like that, his cock deep inside you. 

Pero hisses when you clamp down on his cock and he inhales deeply. He reaches down to grab your thigh and he lifts it higher so he can sink deeper inside of you. “Fuck.” He pants and starts to move slowly.

You moan again, eyes widening at how well you feel him. “I- oh Pero.” You whimper, trying to roll you hips down but he has you nailed to the bed with his cock. “I-f-fuck.” You stammer out, the curse unfamiliar on your tongue but it feels like it is necessary for what you are feeling right now as your husband moves inside you. 

Your curse has his cock twitching inside of you and he groans when your walls squeeze him. “Fuck, esposa. You feel - it’s - perfect.” He allows you a minute access to his thoughts and that seems to make you wild. Clamping down on his cock and arching your back to egg him on. He starts to move faster, lowering his hips and groaning your name as he tries to make this good for you.

You enjoy the rough sound of his voice. Moaning again as he starts up a rhythm to his movements and making you nearly gasp every time he pushes deep. You slide your hands down your back, playing over scars and working muscles rippling under the skin. You feel like he approved of your curse so you do it again, followed by his name. “It’s so intense.”

He likes to hear that because it’s a lot to him too. To be intimate with his wife. He never imagined he’d remarry but he starts to think it’s possible to have a marriage with you, to be able to survive without Maria…perhaps even be happy. He enjoys your touch and slides his hand up to cup your breast, squeezing and he shifts so he can lean down to take your nipple into his mouth.

You hadn’t expected his mouth. Wrongly assuming that kissing being too intimate meant any part of your body and not just your lips. “Pero!” You cry out loud enough that the servants might hear and arch your back up, wanting more of the pleasure of his mouth at your breast. “Oh fuck, oh fuck.” You whimper, shivering.

He loves hearing you curse, his cock twitching inside of you, and he switches over to your other breast. He bites down on your flesh, nipping and sucking, and he moves inside of you, grinding deep. “You like this, hermosa?” He asks, lost in the pleasure of being inside of you.

“Yes, yes Pero.” You moan, closing your eyes and lifting your legs to wrap them around his waist. You know that you are making him feel good. At least you hope you are. Feeling his thrusts start to build faster, his breathing catching and starting to pant against your skin. “So much.”

He grunts when he feels you starting to clench around him and he drops his hips so he can press his pelvis where you need him more. “Cum for me.” He pleads with a groan, needing to feel you cum before he finds his own high. “Por favor, esposa. Cum.” He demands and drags his tongue along your sternum.

You shiver at the feeling of his tongue on your skin. “Ohhhh Pero!” You cry out, body starting to shake underneath his with the next thrust of his hips as you start to fall apart. Pleasure whipping through every inch of your body as you moan.

He clenches his eyes shut when you clamp down on his cock and he bites down on your shoulder as he barely manages to pull out of you, his hot seed spilling on your thigh. “Fuck.” He pants, cock twitching against your hip as he rides his orgasm.

Your eyes open and you frown in confusion as you feel the wetness of his seed on your skin. “I- is something wrong?” You pant quietly, wondering if you’ve somehow disappointed him.

He frowns, pulling back to look down at you. “What are you talking about? I- nothing is wrong.” He’s trying to catch his breath and he shifts to lay down beside you. “It was good.” He assures you, “did you not enjoy it?”

“You-“ You bite your lip and look up at the ceiling. “You spilled your seed on my thighs.” You murmur quietly, wondering if there was something wrong with you that caused him to do that. He was supposed to finish inside you. That’s what everyone said.

Pero closes his eyes, trying to conceal the pain. “I know - I know we aren’t - tonight was our first night but - but I can’t risk you being with child so soon.” He admits, reminded once again of Maria dying during childbirth.

“I-I am so sorry.” You close your own eyes, mortified that you had brought up something so personal to him. “I understand. Forgive me for being so thoughtless.” You know you have ruined things and you swallow down a sigh.

Pero shakes his head, shifting to swing his legs over the side of the bed. “Don’t worry, esposa. I- I’ll leave you to clean up. I have work to attend to.” He declares as he stands and reaches for his nightgown. “I shall see you tomorrow.” He says, turning to look at you after he edged towards the door.

You nod. “Yes.” You know he wants to leave and you sit up, his seed cooling on your skin. “I will clean up and then choose another book from the library before I go to bed. Goodnight, husband.”

“Buenas noches, esposa.” Pero says and swiftly leaves your room. Tonight, he gave in to his desires and left you upset after he pulled out of you. He knows you will urge him to have a child soon and he isn’t sure he is ready for that conversation but for now, he will retire to his quarters to read over the accounts before he falls asleep. He’s not entirely sure how long he can continue keeping you at arms length but he has to try. He cannot lose another wife.

**** 

The next morning, you are surprised to find your husband in the dining room when you come in. “Buenas días, husband.” You see that he is reading some papers, so you move to your normal seat with the cup of tea you had retrieved yourself when you had gone in to see Lola. “I hope your night was restful.” You had decided that you understood where Pero stood on getting you with child and you wished to speak with him about it. “Have you ever used a- a condom before?” You ask him. “My maid back home said they can be purchased from the chemist. Perhaps that would be a good solution?”

Pero raises his eyebrows over his newspaper, watching you for a moment until he chuckles. “Is that what you wish for us to use? I am happy to let you manage our…situation if you wish.” He trusts you and he isn’t sure when that changed.

“You said that you did not wish for me to be - to have a child.” You don’t add the ‘yet’ portion because you feel like he would rather that be ‘at all’. “So a co-condom would help.” You shrug, slightly self conscious now. “We don’t have to use one.”

Pero nods, understanding what you are saying and he appreciates your planning. “Let us have Carmen fetch us some things and then we have the choice.” He says, knowing that it will be hard to keep away from you now that he knows how you feel. The passion inside of you scares him and he knows if he allows it, he will lose himself in you. He can’t put his heart back on the line and the children need a mother. With a nod, he goes back to eating his pan con tomate and knows that you will take care of the issue of birth control.

Carmen brings you a plate of food and you thank her, eating in silence with your husband. You had not expected grand conversations with him, at least at the beginning, so you do not try to disturb him with idle chit chat and when you stand after finishing, you give him a small smile. “Have a good day, husband.” You wish him softly.

Pero watches you go and realizes that maybe he doesn’t just want this to be a marriage of mutual benefit. He finishes his breakfast in peace and decides to spend the rest of the day near the children.

****

“Where is my wife?” Pero asks Carmen, who frowns, “she’s in her chambers, Don Tovar.” She answers and Pero frowns, making his way to your rooms and he is even more confused when he enters and calls your name, only to find you aren’t there.

Biting your lip, you urge the horse faster. Knowing that you are breaking your word to your husband, but it cannot be helped. Luis is feverish, and Carmen and Lola had been nowhere to be found when you had gone searching for them. Frantic about your husband’s son, you know it would destroy Pero to lose the last bit of his wife that she had given him. So you broke your promise. Currently racing to town to fetch the doctor, you pray that the instructions you had given his sister were working and that you will be able to bring the doctor back from town in time.

When Pero finds the children, he’s frantic when he’s told that Luis has a fever and you have left to go to town to find the doctor. He can hardly contain his anxiety, his hands shaking, and he growls at Carlos, “I’m going to fucking find her!” He feels like he’s losing control, his heart pounding and his breathing is heavy. His legs feel like lead and his brain focuses on you and his children. Is Luis dying? Is this his punishment for his time in the war? Is he going to lose you? He pants and collapses to his knees, Carlos reaching out to steady him as his vision goes cloudy. “I- I - can’t save them.”

It is to your detriment that you haven’t been to town, wasting precious time to find the doctor and demanding that he come with you back to the Tovar estate. Shaking with fear and praying that you make it back in time to help your little boy. You didn’t give birth to him, but you have grown close to the children and you have come to love their personalities now they are being taught and challenged, time being spent with them. The mischief of your first meeting was long gone. Rushing to your horse and as soon as the doctor is mounted on his own, racing for home.

Pero manages to stand up, shoving Carlos away as he demands to know where you’ve gone. “I - Alejandra said she’s gone to the town.” Pero doesn’t waste a second, rushing to the stables and swinging his leg over his stallion, no saddle, he pushes the horse to the limit as he gallops towards town. Images of you injured or dead flash in his mind and he realizes how you have wiggled his way into his mind and heart. Your kindness and the feel of you beneath him have his heart twisting at the thought of anything happening to you.

Frowning, you spot a rider in the distance on the road. Unsure of who it might be, you glance back at the doctor who is on your horses heels and then forward again. Recognizing the haste in the way you see the horse being pushed, dread knots in your stomach, realizing that it must be your husband. Lifting a hand, even though he is too far away to shout to, you wonder if he will beat you for disobeying him.

Pero sees you as he gallops and he nearly falls off of the horse when he pulls on its hair to slow it down. “You - what the fuck do you think you are you doing?” Pero yells as you approach him and the doctor’s horse skids as he comes to a stop.

“Luis! Luis has a fever!” You cry out, panting for breath as your horse stomps and shakes underneath you, “I- I had to get the doctor.” Your own mother had died from a fever sickness and the idea of losing his little boy on your watch makes you want to be sick. “I- we must hurry Pero! He cannot die, not like mama!”

Pero nods, knowing that now is not the time to have this argument. “You’re unharmed?” Pero asks and you nod frantically. His heart is pounding but you are safe and unharmed from what he can tell so he turns his horse around and the three of you gallop back to his estate, back in front of the sick little boy in record time. Pero kneels beside Luis, watching the doctor and he swallows harshly, “por favor. Just - do something.”

You twist your hands, knowing that Pero is worried and you start to pray yourself. Carmen has Alejandra in the other room and you can hear her comforting the older child. The doctor works and you worry, pacing the floors continuously, eager to bring the doctor anything he might need and bringing in the basin of cold water that Lola brings up.

Pero holds his son’s hand while the doctor assesses him and murmurs prayers as you kneel beside him. He reaches for your other hand, squeezing it as he prays and the doctor starts to drain the boy’s blood in hopes of bringing down the fever. “Bleeding should help the fever break. If not, I have some bark I think will help.” 

Pero swallows, his throat is dry, “whatever you can do. I- I can’t lose him.”

You try to be there for him. Sitting strong and praying as the doctor continues to bleed the boy until he claims that it is enough. Wiping him down and checking his forehead again with a small frown before he moves over to the teapot he had requested with boiling water. You squeeze Pero’s hand and glance at your husband’s worried face.

Pero doesn’t know how long he lays there, his heart and mind weary as he watches his son. The doctor gave him the tea and left, stating it “is in God’s hands now.” He’s not eaten, he hasn’t slept. He just sits there and watches the little boy breathe. He doesn’t know where you are, he sometimes wonders but he’s too concerned about his son.

You watch. Waiting for anything and everything that Pero or Luis might need. Often leaving the room to comfort Alejandra and to let her know how her brother is doing. You don’t want her to feel forgotten and eventually you allow her to come into the room after promising to be quiet. The two of you sit in a chair behind Pero and eventually curl up together and fall asleep together from exhaustion and worry.

Pero isn’t sure when he fell asleep, perhaps the exhaustion got to him and he simply rested his head on the cool sheets, his eyes closing without his knowledge. “Papa.” He doesn’t hear the weak murmur at first. “Papa.” A small hand touches his hair and Pero’s nose wrinkles. “Papa.” The voice is stronger and wakes Pero up, his head shooting up to see Luis lucid and awake. 

“Luis” He gasps, reaching for him to check his views. His eyes are clear, his forehead cool but not cold. He’s okay. “Mi amor.” Pero chokes, wrapping his arms around the little boy to pull him into his arms.

You wake up, rousing Alejandra in your arms and nearly sob with relief that Luis is awake and alert. “Mama, is Luis okay?” Alejandra demands, her own worry for her brother causing her to not think about what she calls you. Your eyes widen and you try not to tear up at the honorary name, nodding and brushing her tangled hair back from her face and holding her close despite being on your lap. “It looks like he is.” You hum. “Go hug him and your papa.”

Alejandra nods, rushing over to her papa and her brother and she wraps her arms around them. Pero shifts, gathering the children into his arms and he sniffs, trying to ignore the tears that sting in his eyes as he embraces them. “Te amo, mijos.” He murmurs and looks over at you, “come here, esposa.” He gestures for you to come over to them.

Standing up, you are happy to see such a touching moment between the small family. You know you are a part of it now, but they are reminders of his wife and very dear to him. Walking over, you ruffle Luis’ hair and smile. “You gave us all a fright, Luis.” You hum, sliding your hand to your husband’s shoulder.

Pero reaches up to grip your hand in his, his terror at losing you or one of his children now subsided and in its place is joy that he doesn’t have to suffer another loss. The four of you embrace until Carmen comes in to attend to Luis, wanting him to eat something and drink. Pero tells Alejandra to stay with her brother and she nods. “I need to speak with you.” Pero says to you, his voice deepening as he reaches for your hand.

You swallow, aware that he will now punish you. You had disobeyed him and you know from everyone that Pero is a stern man. You follow him quietly, wondering why he is still holding your hand as he guides you out of the nursery towards your bedroom.

When Pero opens the door to your chambers, he pushes you inside. “What were you thinking?” He hisses, dropping your hand as he glares at you, “I told you to never go into town.”

“I was thinking that Luis was in danger.” You won’t apologize for your actions, but you understand his anger. “He needed the doctor and I could not find anyone.” You stand straight and stiffen your spine. “If you punish me, that is you right. But I would do it again. My mother died of fever and I did not want you to lose your last gift from your wife.”

Your words take Pero back and his jaw drops, staring at you as he absorbs your words. Your kindness knows no bounds it seems and that’s the moment it clicks for Pero. Unable to stop himself, he surges forward and you think he’s about to hit you but he doesn’t, instead, his lips press against yours.

You had flinched, you could admit that yourself but then you are gasping against Pero’s mouth, shocked that he is kissing you. He had told you that he wouldn’t do that again; it was too intimate for him. Yet his lips are warm and soft against yours and you cannot help but melt into him.

His hands grip your waist and his mouth moves against yours, his tongue sliding along your lower lip as he pulls you up against him. You moan into his mouth and his hands reach down to tug your skirts up, his hands soon pulling his cock free from his breeches, hard and aching. He needs you and he hopes you want him too.

You had expected a beating, not for your husband to fuck you. But you aren’t going to push him away. Your fingers tug on your petticoats and you quickly push them down. “Husband.” You gasp out when he pulls his lips away. “Please.” You whimper, enjoying his apparent need for you.

His hand grabs your thigh, lifting it over your hip so he can position his cock at your entrance and he pushes inside of you with a groan. “Fuck, hermosa.” He murmurs, caressing your thigh as he pushes deeper.

“Oh god.” You would probably collapse if he didn’t have his hand on your waist and use his strength to keep you upright. Wanting to kiss him again, you wonder if that was a fluke and he wouldn’t kiss you but you turn your head to kiss along his jaw while he throbs inside you.

He turns his head to kiss you, pressing his lips against yours as he starts to move inside of you. You’re so wet and tight and alive. You’re alive. He focuses on you and your touch, his mouth moving against yours as he presses you against the wall.

You had never considered that your husband could fuck you against a wall, and yet, it’s thrilling. You moan into his mouth and cling to him, not caring that his hips push you back against the wainscoting every time he thrusts into you. Your own tongue touches against his and your entire body shivers with pleasure.

“Fuck. Mi esposa. I- Don’t want to lose you.” He murmurs, kissing along your jaw, and he kisses down your throat as he lifts your hip a little higher so he can push deeper inside of you. “Fuck. Please. I need - I need you.”

“Pero.” You whimper, closing your eyes and letting him do whatever he needs to you. You are starting to fall for him, especially with how he worried for Luis.

It’s hard to imagine his days without you now. Cold nights alone have turned into passionate escapades scattered throughout the day, touches leading through the night. He has tried to stay away but you’ve drawn him in. He continues to work his cock in and out of you, groaning as he presses his lips to yours again.

Closing your eyes, you give yourself over to him completely. Clinging to him as he fucks you so deeply you know they you will be feeling him for days after. Even though he’s not wearing a condom, you expect him to pull out and spill his seed outside your body. The condom had been great and you loved the feeling of him pulsing inside you.

Pero kisses along your jaw, breathing you in and he needs you to clamp down on his cock. He grabs your other thigh, lifting you up completely as the adrenaline surges through him and he grunts as he lifts you up and down his cock, still pressing you against the wall.

Gasping, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and try to wrap your legs around him, your skirts bunched between you. “Fuck, Pero, I- I love you.” You moan quietly; needing to at least whisper it even though he doesn’t feel the same way. “So close.”

He hears it but he doesn’t respond. Instead, he presses his lips to yours and when you whine into his mouth, he groans against your lips when you clamp down on his cock. He should pull out but he doesn’t, too focused on you and how you feel and how he could’ve lost you. He grunts and keeps thrusting you through your orgasm until finally, he’s pushing deep and filling you full of his hot seed, painting your walls.

Your eyes widen and you are too busy worrying about the feeling of his hot seed inside you. Knowing he will regret it you are savoring this one moment. “Pero- Pero you have to let me- I have to bathe.” You whimper.

He doesn’t release you, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pants again at your chin, enjoying the feel of you surrounding him. “Don’t.” He murmurs, not wanting to let you go just yet. He can’t lose another person from his life that he cares for.

You frown but you don’t push him away, deciding that he knows what he is doing. “Okay, husband.” You pant softly, feeling him throb inside of you and start to soften. “Is-is this my punishment?” You ask teasingly.

Pero chuckles softly, pulling out of you and lowering you down to the floor. Your skirts settle down and he reaches down to tuck his cock back into his breeches. “No punishment.” He assures you and reaches for your hands, “please…just do not go into town unless you are escorted.” He compromises, knowing that it will be hard to overcome his anxiety surrounding town but he cannot keep you prisoner.

You bite your lip, aware that your husband is compromising. “Yes.” You murmur softly, leaning in and pressing your lips to his cheek. You don’t want to push him for more than he will give you so you won’t kiss him on the lips unless he kisses you first. “Thank you, Pero.” You hum, smiling as you pull back to look into his dark eyes. “I will have an escort.”

Pero nods, letting go of your hands and he is pleased that he could compromise. The idea of you going into town terrifies him, he doesn’t want to lose you. The children clearly love you and he - he has affection for you. 

**** 

Pero looks up at you as you enter the dining room. He stands up, walking over to pull your chair out for you, taking over the job from the footman. “You look beautiful, esposa.” He murmurs, caressing your cheek as you stand before him and he helps you sit down.

“Thank you.” You give Pero a smile, but you’re slightly nervous. Your monthly time has been missed for several months now and you woke up feeling nauseous and your breasts being sore. You are with child and while your husband has become warmer to you, you don’t know how he will react. It’s true that there have been several times since the day Luis was sick that he hasn’t worn the condom, he had also still worn it and never said anything about having children with you or your confession of your feelings. You’ve never repeated those words again. “I’ll just have some weak tea and toast.” You tell the footman before he disappears to let Lola know you are ready for breakfast.

Pero frowns, usually you order more at breakfast and he wonders if you are unwell. “Are you ill, esposa?” He asks and wonders if you are okay. He watches you as you eye the cup of tea with a grimace and he calls Carlos over to order the doctor to come to the house.

“I think that I might have some kind of stomach malady.” You admit with a small groan, covering your nose from the aroma of the tea. “It should pass.” You have an idea of what is wrong but you don’t wish to alarm Pero.

Pero is concerned but knows the doctor will help you and Carlos will ensure his swift arrival. Your breakfast is hardly touched and he will inform Carmen to let Lola know to prepare a light but generous lunch for you. He is concerned, knowing how Luis was and he’s terrified that you are going to end up with the same fate.

After breakfast, you still feel ill, laying down and resting even though you know you should be watching the children. You feel dizzy and nauseous and you wonder if all women feel this way when they are pregnant. You are sure that is what is going on, emptying your stomach of the tea and the few bites of toast you had managed into the chamber pot under your bed.

Pero greets the doctor, escorting him to your chambers. This is the same doctor who was present when Maria died and the midwife called for him after there were complications. The two men exchange a look before Carmen announces the doctor’s arrival. “I will leave you to it.” Pero says after everyone enters.

“Oh, I didn’t know Pero was calling a doctor.” You sit up, embarrassed and hoping that the nausea has passed. “I am afraid that I am not quite feeling myself.” You admit when he tuts and brings his bag over. “I think- I think I might be ….” You lower your voice. “Expecting.”

The doctor nods, “very well. Let us check and we can confirm, Señora Tovar.” He says softly and under Carmen’s watchful eye, he performs his tests. Feeling your stomach, he smiles. “Congratulations, Señora. You are with child.” He offers you a soft smile and Carmen grins, “congratulations.”

“Thank you.” It’s a relief to know that is what is wrong, but you wonder how Pero will take the news that you are expecting his child. “What can be done about the nausea?” You ask him softly. “My mother died young and I have never been around someone expecting.”

“I have a tea I can provide your cook with to assist with the sickness.” The doctor informs you and is soon bidding you goodbye. When the doctor exits your quarters, Pero looks up, eyes questions and the doctor pats his shoulder. “I believe your wife had good news.” Pero swallows, knowing what that means and he thanks the doctor before Carlos escorts him out. 

Exhaling shakily, he walks over to your room and knocks, entering your chambers to find you sitting on the edge of the bed. He sits down beside you and reaches for your hand, “esposa.”

“I’m sorry, Pero.” You start quietly, looking down at your joined hands. “I know that you wished to wait, or to never have children with me.” You are worried that he will be upset, that it will ruin the closeness you have felt with him lately. “I do not know what happened. I’m - I am going to have your child.”

He squeezes your hand, “don’t know what happened? I think I do.” He chuckles softly. “And…and I’m not angry about it. I knew what could happen and you are an incredible mother to Luis and Alejandra. I think you’ll be amazing.” He assures you, “and I - I want to have a child that is half you and half me.”

You let out the breath you had been holding and smile. Relieved that he is not upset and you are able to be excited for the first time. “I think it will be wonderful.” You admit, although you frown after a moment. “I promise I will not go into town, even with an escort, when my time draws near.” You don’t want him to worry about another wife, even if he doesn’t love you, he would worry.

Pero nods his gratefulness, knowing you now understand his anxiety and reaction. Especially after you ran off to fetch the doctor. He knows he is going to be even more protective of you. “It’s good news, hermosa.” He promises, leaning in to kiss your forehead, brushing his nose against yours until his lips brush your lips.

You’ve found there is comfort in his kisses. A certain sense of home that you’ve not found anywhere else as the nights in his bed progressed. It was often you ended up sleeping together after your pleasure but you had never voiced that sentiment of love again. You desperately want to say it again, but you are afraid to, afraid of being reminded that you are not his late wife and he had warned you that he wouldn’t love you.

**** 

As your pregnancy progresses, Pero gets more and more anxious. He’s nervous of the birth, reminded once again of Maria dying after giving birth to Luis. He swallows harshly as he leans against the wall, trying to calm his racing heart. You’re going to give birth soon according to the midwife and each day makes his anxiety threaten to overwhelm him.

Every day that passes, you can see your husband slowly start to unravel. He is sleeping less and worrying about you. Not even allowing you on the stairs without someone. Making you ring a bell to have someone come help you. Most often he works from your chambers, moving his work to your writing desk. You sigh as you slide your hand over your stomach, panting slightly. The pains had started last night but you had kept it from him, knowing he wouldn’t sleep and he desperately needed the rest.

Pero sees Carmen rushing through the halls and she slows down when she sees him. “What’s happening?” He asks, frowning, and the young woman bites her lip. “Tell me.” He demands and Carmen knows she can’t deny him, “she’s having pains. The birth is happening. I must fetch the midwife.” Carmen rushes out and Pero’s eyes widen. 

“Fetch the doctor too. I will take no chances.” He says and Carmen nods, rushing off. Pero drops everything he is doing and rushes to your chambers, “esposa. Is it true? You’re having pains?” He asks, eying you in the chair in the corner.

You would deny it, to spare him a bit more time but another pain makes you clutch your stomach. Bending over slightly as you start to moan quietly. It lasts for a long time and by that time you relax, you are panting. “I am.”

Pero rushes over to you. Guiding you over to the bed, “come, you must lay down.” He shakes his head, trying to take your shoes off. “Why didn’t you send for me?” He asks, caressing your ankle as you settle against the pillows.

“You have not been sleeping.” You remind him quietly. “I know you need rest and if I told you, there was not any rest in your future.”

Your whimpers make his heart clench and he shakes his head. “Mi - esposa. Come, do not worry about me. I will worry until the babe is in your arms and you are well and healthy.” His voice wavers for a moment and he wonders if you notice as he wipes your forehead of the beads of sweat.

“It will be well.” The midwife has assured you that you are carrying well for a first time birth and believes that it will be a simple thing. Reaching for his hand, you smile at him softly. “I have already asked that you be allowed in the birthing room if you need.”

Pero is surprised and pleased, kissing your damp forehead. “I won’t leave you.” He promises and brushes his lips against yours. “I’ll be here. Every single second.” He vows as Carmen comes back in with water and a flannel.

You get changed into a clean nightgown, Carmen helping you although you don’t mind your husband being there. He has seen you naked more than your own nanny when you were a child. Getting settled back down into the bed, you grip Pero’s hand and cry out when the next pain washes over you.

Pero lets you squeeze his hand as you try to ride the pain. You whimper and Pero frowns, “where is the midwife?” He asks, starting to get impatient. “And the doctor? I called for him as well.” He growls, looking over at Carmen.

“They are coming, Don Tovar.” She assures him, knowing that he is worried about his wife. Everyone has seen how much the Don has come to care about his wife and they are all happy for him. You are kind and loving and it will be good for him to love again. “The doctor is impressed with your wife and has already said he will come whenever summoned.”

“He needs to be here. I will allow no one to take a singular risk. I won’t have my wife’s health and the baby’s health put in danger.” He hisses and squeezes your hand when you groan at the pain. “Are you - you need anything?” Pero asks, wanting to make sure you have everything you need.

“Water.” You beg quietly. Labor is harder work that you realized and you feel parched from it. 

Pero nods and squeezes your hand again. “Whatever you want.” He promises, kissing your hand and rushing over to the tray Carmen had brought you earlier.

Pero returns with the water, letting you sip it and he wipes your forehead with the wet rag Carmen hands him. It seems like the sun is setting when you are finally ready to push. The midwife checking you and announcing it’s time. Pero is terrified, this was the time Maria lost too much blood. He remembers the sheets being soaked with it as Luis cried. He grips your hand, sweat beading on his brow as his heart starts to pound

Clenching your teeth together, you try to make sure that you don’t scream during the next pain. It makes Pero uneasy every time, he pales when you scream and grip his hand as tight as you can. You know that he is scared and even though you are in pain, you’re worried about him.

Pero feels unwell but tries to stay strong, each clenched scream bringing you closer to having his next child and he is terrified. Terrified of losing you. During your marriage, he has grown close to you. Spending many nights in your bed, even if he hadn’t touched you. He can’t imagine his life without you now. “Come on hermosa, you can do it. Push.” He urges you on, wanting you to concentrate.

Nodding, you sit up slightly and start to push. Bearing down with all your might, you see the midwife between your thighs as you start to feel more pressure.

Pero watches you push, his eyes darting between you and the midwife and he’s worried, he’s so scared that he’s gonna lose you. His hand grips yours as he watches you push and he’s silently praying.

“I can’t- it is too much.” You gasp out, falling back against the sheets as you pant. 

The midwife clicks her tongue and looks up at you. “One more push, señora, and the bebita will be in your arms.” She promises you. “Next time the pain comes you push as hard as you can.”

“You can do it, hermosa. You can do it.” He eggs you on, sweat beading on his forehead as he watches you struggle. “Come on, mi amor. Come on.” He says, wiping your forehead.

You close your eyes, tears leaking out of the corners as you barely hear the words that you have wished for far longer than you should have. Holding his hand, you nod, bearing down with all your strength and pushing your baby into the world. Feeling them slip from your womb with a rush of relief.

Pero watches the midwife cradle the crying babe, her smile wide and Pero starts to cry, relieved and so happy at seeing his child born. “Felicidades, Don Tovar, it’s a boy.” She announces and Pero leans in to kiss your head. 

“A boy, amor,”

“A boy.” You sob, exhausted and relieved and more than a little emotional about hearing ‘amor’ again. Almost terrified that he is thinking of his late wife and reliving that horrible night with a happier ending through you. “We have another son.” You pant, reaching for the baby when the midwife hands him to you.

Pero looks down at the screaming babe in your arms. His eyes sting with tears and he looks at you in awe. “A boy. Another boy.” He murmurs, kissing your forehead. “Amor.”

“He’s beautiful.” You murmur quietly, brushing your hand over his wet forehead. “Perfect.” His ten little fingers are curled into fists and he has ten perfect little toes. “Isn’t he?” You ask, looking up at your husband after you manage to tear your eyes away from your new baby.

Pero leans in to rest his forehead against yours, loving how you are cradling the baby and he knows Luis and Alejandra are excited for his arrival. “He’s perfect. So is his mother.” He murmurs, caressing the baby’s head.

You hum, not sure how to take that and look back down at the baby. He’s turning his face towards you and crying, searching for your breast. “Put him on the breast.” The midwife tells you. “Your milk will come.” You nod, opening your nightgown and guiding him towards your breast and gasping when he latches into your nipple.

Pero watches in awe, the midwife working on helping you with the afterbirth and the baby mouths at your nipple. Pero kisses your forehead again, he’s so perfect. You’re perfect. Hermosa, I- I love you.” Pero chokes, never imagining that he’d fall in love again but he couldn’t help it, you’re too beautiful and kind. The children love you and you’ve made his life so much better.

Your eyes widen and you look up at Pero in shock. “You- you love me?” You ask in astonishment, sure that would never happen for you. He nods and you start to cry. “I love you too Pero, I love you and our three children.”

Pero leans in to kiss you, “I love you. So much. I- I didn’t think - after Maria - you’ve brought this home, my children…me…back to life.” He murmurs and kisses your forehead. “Mi esposa, hermosa, amor. You are everything to me. I owe you the world.” He murmurs, looking down at the little boy.

Your smile is watery, but overjoyed. You had come to Spain to marry a man you didn’t know and was told that he could never love you. Now you have a beautiful son, two other children that adore you and your them, and a loving husband. Your father had chosen right. You were a family.

#pedro pascal #pero tovar #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar smut #pero tovar fanfic #pero tovar the great wall #regency pero tovar x reader #regency pero tovar #tovar x you #tovar x reader #tovar x f!reader #tovar smut #tovar fanfiction #tovar imagine

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐄𝐓.

DAY FIVE OF HAUNTED HOEDOWN

prompt: animal shapeshifter au + "you're not actually scared are you? of me?"

pairing: animal shapeshifter!pero tovar x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni, romance, cottagecore, fantasy au

summary: you decide to take a swim in a lake that is deep in the middle of the forest. during your swim, pero finds you, and he's not happy that you went out alone during a full moon.

word count: 3.1k

warnings: breeding, marking, biting, does this count as monsterfucking if he's just human with wings and two cocks, pero has two cocks, despite the warnings this is actually quite soft, double penetration, praise kink, soft!dom pero, possessive!pero, creampie

a/n: during this i learned that some bird species have two cocks. you're welcome for this information and thank you for voting in the poll dfvdfvf (also i didn't edit this so sorry about that ily all)

The moonlight beckons you. It always has and always will. You watch as the water effortlessly brings the white light pouring from above with gentle waves kissed by the calm breeze. That same breeze rustles the leaves of dark trees. You’re not afraid of the darkness anymore. Haven’t been since you moved out from your family home, away from those who want to stifle you and silence you. 

Your steps are soft as you near the lake, the ends of your dress brushing the grass. You feel a predatory gaze taking in the sight of you, he’s in the shadows, enjoying the show. 

Your grumpy companion, if you will. 

Slowly, you drag the back of your hands up your waist and trace the pads of your fingers over the sweetheart neckline of your bodice. You lower them, feeling the rich ribbons holding the entire dress together. 

With one swift movement, you pull one thread and the rest comes down, pooling at your feet. 

You enter the lake, it’s cold but not cold enough that you’d want to jump out. You exhale a shaky breath and swim deeper, turning in the water, you observe the full moon. 

A rustling fills the silence. And feather-like steps are heard. Your feet sway underwater as you float upright. What captures your gaze first are a set of deep brown eyes that are too human to belong to a beast. 

Then you notice the fur, the pointed nose, and the snarl that shows white pointy teeth. The beast steps closer, paws large enough to cover your entire face. You swim close to the edge of the lake, your feet move against the thickness of water, you want to place your arms over the ground to brace yourself but decide against it. He’s angry, you can feel it, you just don’t know why yet. 

He stops at the edge you refuse to brace yourself against and leans down, his wide nuzzle an inch away. He inhales and exhales deeply, the force of his breath nearly drying your skin. He still bares his teeth towards you and you notice the faint traces of blood over his dark fur. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” he growls, the deep voice echoing in your head. “It’s the full moon it’s dangerous.” 

“There are no people here.” 

His tongue darts out to move over his teeth, eyes watching you carefully, “It is not the people I fear, little soul.” 

With a sudden need to be close to him, you bury your fingers into the thick neck of the beast and urge him to come closer until your forehead is pressed firmly against his. He doesn’t close his eyes but you do. He’s incredibly warm; a faint scent of lavender and blood clings to his skin. 

“Join me,” you murmur. He watches you curiously for a moment before nodding and taking a step back. You revel in watching his transformations. His eyes finally flutter closed, a dark purple mist surrounding him, he lets out an audible breath. 

You first see the wings; dark and lush, they spread to his sides before folding back. 

Then you see the rest of him. Sunkissed skin, broad chest, and a stomach that has gotten rounder ever since he met you—a sign of a life with balance. Even though you have them memorized, your eyes dart over every faint scar that is scattered all around his torso. You love them. Tracing your tongue over every since one, the lightened patches of skin reminding you of stars. 

Pero steps forward, naked as the day he was born, soft cock hanging between strong thighs, he approaches the lake. And you. 

“I am still mad,” he grumbles, his accent thicker now that he’s using his actual voice. “You did not tell me you were going to come here.” 

“I knew you would find me.”

He doesn’t say anything and slowly submerges into the water, his wings follow him in the water like a mermaid's tail. You frown when he turns his back, his back tense and shoulders raised, you come closer and begin to cup water and release it over his wings. A shudder crawls up his spine, the delicate limbs playfully twitching despite his anger. 

“Just because I did not kill you the first time—” 

“Or the second.” 

He grunts, “Or the second—” 

“Or the third.” 

“¡Suficiente!” his wings raise higher and he turns viciously, the same anger you saw in him as a wolf returning full force. “This is not a game. There are creatures out there that won’t hesitate to rip you shred to shred.” 

Pero forces you to swim until your back hits the shore, the lake’s depth surpasses you both, yet he manages to towards over you. 

“Pero. . .” 

“You do not know what is out there but I do,” he snarls. “I am one of them.” 

He places a hand over your chest, blunt nails biting into the skin right above your heart. The curve of his nose brushes against yours. Underwater, you feel the heft of his cock pressed against your stomach, it takes you everything not to moan and rub yourself against him like a dog in heat. 

“What you don’t understand,” he hisses, voice dangerously low. “This heart belongs to me now—Not yours, fucking mine.” 

He pins your hips together, knocking the air from your lungs, your jaw drops and all you can do is stare. Instinctively, you legs press together, the lack of motion threatening to pull you under the moonlit lake. Pero doesn’t allow it, however, both his hands drop to your waist, keeping your head barely above the surface. 

You feel the brush of his lips on your cheek. 

“That muscle that pumps blood in your veins and keeps you alive. . .  it is not strong enough to take the attack of claws and teeth, or something worse. You owe it to me to keep it alive. You owe it to me to let me know of late-night dips, after making me fall for such a susceptible creature.”  

You close your eyes, your heart racing in your chest. You have no idea how he’s been around, centuries perhaps, he’d never told you. But you know it was a lonely life, to be gifted with the remarkable talent of turning into every animal imaginable only to cease to be human, for that talent, which was thought to be a gift, seep into the essence of your humanity. 

His gaze wanders over your countenance. You feel the heaviness of it. Finally, you open your eyes and bring your thumb over to the scar that goes over his eye and stroke it gently. The ridges of puffy skin catch against the pad of your thumb and you swallow.  

"You are not actually scared, are you? Of me?" he murmurs.

You smile, “Never,” you brush your lips together. “And you’re right. I’m yours. Sorry for wandering off. I honestly was just looking for you, I missed you and knew you’d trace my scent.” 

You scratch his jaw, the short hairs tickling your skin. He observes you a second longer before cracking a smile and nuzzling your neck, you feel teeth on your skin as he rocks his hips forward. “I’ve missed you too, my sweet soul.” 

Before you know it he’s hauling you both out of the lake, laying you over the velvet grass. The soft blades tickle your skin. Pero lies next to you, propping himself up on his elbow, he allows his eyes to devour you whole. His wings stretch over you both like the night sky, long and wide, you swallow as you ache to touch them—to feel their softness on your fingertips. 

“You like my wings,” he states, an observation. You nod and a wing descends, the tip of the feathers moving down the valley of your breasts and over to your stomach. You hold your breath as it inches closer to your clit, and you spread your legs without a second thought. “So obedient,” he murmurs. “Or is this your way of apologizing to me, hermosa?” 

The brush of feathers between your legs halts the words that were about to spill. Your body arches, a loud gasp tearing from your throat. The subtle touch makes your body sing for him, begging him to touch you with force. Enjoying your pain driven from pleasure, he continues to play with you with the end of his wing, and you enjoy the sight of slick smearing against the feathers. 

“Perhaps it’s both,” you murmur, sliding your hand down his torso and cupping his cock. You wrap your fingers and where he would groan eagerly, he turns rigid. Thinking that he’s still angry, you swipe a thumb over the head and move down. 

Something else hits your hand. Something hard like the one in your palm.

“P-Pero. . .” you look up to him. He grunts in acknowledgment, waiting for your question. You move your hand again to make sure what you’re feeling is correct, your fingers slip between two heavy cocks, one of them decked in soft, tiny feathers. You let out a strangled sound. “Do—Do you have two cocks right now?” 

He clears his throat. Normally you’d find the flush of his cheeks and his loss for words cute but you’re in shock. You’ve been with him many times before and never did he have two cocks. 

And there was no way you missed one. 

“It only happens once a month,” you squeeze the feathered one and he groans, hips thrusting to feel the softness of your palm. “It is. . . a side effect.” 

“Side effect of what?” 

“Of whatever the hell I am,” he answers bitterly. “It is for breeding. The. . . feathers they’re not actually feathers, they heighten the pleasure of a female and make them more. . . fertile.” 

A beat of silence. 

While you’re at a loss for words, you continue to stroke him, and indeed he was right. The soft things you deemed as feathers left a flowery-scented substance on your palm. Your lids flutter at the scent, your heart feeling light and full of want. 

The mere thought of Pero filling you is enough to have your cunt drooling for him. And he must’ve sensed it because his eyes darken and his wings hide you from the watchful gaze of the moon. 

He thrusts a little harder than, the bulbous head of his second cock hitting your wrist, “You like it?” he nips at your chin and cups your mound, slipping two fingers inside with ease. “I would want nothing more to fill this pretty little cunt up with all of me, but are you sure?” 

Pero skims his teeth down your neck, “I never had someone during the full moon.” 

“Then I’m happy your first,” you grind into the heel of his palm, moaning, when he presses hard against the bundle of nerves. “I want you, Pero. All of you. I want to feel you for days.” 

“Oh, preciosa, you’ll be feeling me for centuries.” 

There’s something exceptionally filthy being on all fours in the middle of the forest with Pero fucking his tongue into your sopping entrance. 

He’d been going at it for at least half an hour, you lost track of time during your forth orgasm, the ground beneath soaking your essence. His mouth, his fingers, he spared no expense in working you open. His mustache chafed your skin as he stuffed you full with three fingers, scissoring them while being knuckle deep. 

“Pero—I—I need—” you break down, tears streaming down your face. It’s too much. You don’t know how much you can take it. “Please.” 

“You think you are ready to take me?” he kisses the lips of your cunt long and slow, the tip of his tongue tracing your folds. “Poor thing. Did I tire you out already?” 

“I—I just want your cock. . .s,” you say, yet you still follow his mouth with your hips when he moves away. He suddenly flips you to your back, the force of it knocking the air from your lungs. 

“Say it again,” he growls. “Say it.” 

“I want your cocks,” you sinks his teeth into your neck, his regular cock brushing your folds. “I want all of you, Pero. Breed me.” 

“Fuck,” he rasps, his tone frustrated. “Fuck—Of course, bebita, I’ll breed you so fucking good. Then I’ll fuck you again and again, until you are round with me,” something dark flashes in his eyes when you whimper. “You are making it really hard to go slow.” 

You cry out again, purposefully grinding against his cocks, his eyes roll back and he momentraily loses himself, thrusting forward—

You both moan in unison; you, from being stretched around the girth of him, and him from how easily he slides inside of you, the tight fist of your cunt wrapping deliciously around his lenght. 

Pero begins to fuck you with shallow thrust and your eyes roll back. You can’t imagine how good it’s going to feel when you have both of them inside. You’re a whimpering mess beneath him, his very being towering over yours. You clench around him as his thrusts become deeper, a gush of wetness soaking him. He presses his sweaty forehead against yours, his chest heaving, he holds your gaze. 

“I’m going to slide in the other one now,” he kisses your lips and pulls away. Your eyes drift to his wings that stretch again. He pulls back his hips and when he pushes back again there’s an added pressure. A mixture of moans and pained hisses bounce behind clenched teeth, your finger curling into the dirt. Pero waits for you to adjust to both of him, his voice dripping with adoration. “You’re taking me so well. So good for me, my sweet little human, always wet and ready.”   

When your body relaxes around him, he presses forward. The feel of his other cock is different, that feather like texture tickles your walls, the prickles quickly melting into drops of pleasure inside you. A burst of arousal awakens in the pit of your stomach, your eyes go wide, your legs spreading further until the tendons begin to ache. 

“Please, please, please,” you cry out, hands grasping his forearms. “Fuck me, fuck me—shit—what is this?” 

Pero pins your hips to the ground, “Calm down, you are going to hurt yourself,” a heavy scent of lavender fills your nostrils, more liquid dripping from your core. “Like I said, it adds to the pleasure but I am only half way in, mi amor. You need to be patient so I can fuck you properly.” 

Your chest heaves, lungs collapsing, you taste salt on your tongue, “Okay. . .” you whisper. “Okay.” 

“Such a good girl,” he coos, but despite that, he doesn’t release your hips. “Taking two cocks at once so beautifull. I wish you could see yourself,” his thumb traces where you two connect, then he begins drawing languid circles around your clit and your entire body loosens momentarily. He bruises himself deeper with small thrust. “So close, just a little bit more and you’ll have them both inside of you.” 

Pero’s large hand caresses the swell of your stomach, you smile at him with a dazed smile, “Just a little bit more.” 

You know he’s fully sheathed from the sounds he make, something between a growl and a moan. The stretch you feel is immaculate. You feel so full. Both cocks twitch  uncontrollably inside, the sensation shortening your breath. Sweat beads at his foreahead, fingers biting into your flesh as he tries to stop himself from ruining you completely. 

When you cradle his cheeks, his eyes snap at you and he bares his teeth. It might’ve been tricks of the night, but you sweat his pupils become dark diamond before returning to normal. His wings flutter around you both protectively. 

“There’s no one here,” you say calmly. “I’m all yours.” 

Realization strucks him, his eyes widen, lips parting with a soft exhale. His expression makes you want to laugh. This isn’t the first time you’re telling him this, yet everytime you do he looks at you with the same awe-struck expression. 

Then all hell breaks loose. 

His teeth sink into your neck, his hips relentless as he hammers into you. Wet noises fill the forest. You’re left screaming his name, the burst of pleasure you receive with every stroke mind numbing. You feel so stuffed. Both cocks going in an out of you with embarrising ease, your body is on fire and something devastating begins to build up rapidly inside. 

“P-Pero,” you stutter, slack-jawed. “I’m—I’m going to—” 

“You feel it don’t you,” he sucks a nipple between his lips, tongue lapping the hardened peak. “The way pleasure feels endless and something that you can drown in forever. I have been feeling like that during every full moon. Finally I have someone to fall from the heavens with me—” 

He hooks his arms underneath your thighs and pushes them up until your knees graze your forehead. Your spine screams in agony, yet the thickness of having both cocks inside is enough to numb you to it. He goes deeper with every snap, your eyes roll back, ever muscles goes taut right before he pushes you over the edge, your cunt gushing around him as you scream his name, over and over. 

“That’s it, my sweet girl. Come for me,” he buries his head into your neck, fully exposing your body to his weight while he viciously pounds into you. “Fuck, can you feel me?” 

You definitely can—but you can’t form the words. His cocks expand, throbbing and twitching as they both strike that one spot that makes you see stars brighter then the ones above. 

Pero keeps his promise and spills into you, both cocks filling you until your body can’t take anymore and he drips around the edges. Your eyes flutter closed. Your mouth gasping for air, there’s so much, his cock pulsing. He gradually releases your legs, and they drop to the ground, framing his waist. Pero’s face remains buried in your neck, inhaling your scent. 

“Do I smell good?” you joke. 

He hums, “You smell amazing,” he answers. “You smell like me.” 

You want to quip back and say it must not be that good then, but you swallow your teasing for now, admitting to yourseld that you wouldn’t want to smell like anything else. 

“I never want to leave you,” he mutters. “Feels too good.” 

“Then don’t,” you say, clenching around him. You whimper as you feel both cocks still hard inside of you. “Doesn’t look like coming once subdued you anyway.” 

“Say it,” he peels away from your neck, grinning down at you.

“Say what?” 

“That you want me to fuck you again.” 

You roll your eyes. “No way.” 

His grin only wides when he rolls his hips and your words break into a loud, wanton moan. “That is okay, your body speaks for you anyway.” 

Before you can reply, he silences you with a kiss.

#pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar x fem!reader #the great wall fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pero tovar au #animal shapeshifter!pero tovar #hauntedhoedown

[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

[tatumtater]

“ thank you for loving me when i still tasted of heartache and war. “

moodboard ;

Tero Povar x princess!fem or knight!Joel Miller x princes!fem

author’s note ; purely for fun. purely for enjoyment. purely for inspiration. if you have ideas please share, i’d love to give my take on what a moodboard for it would be

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel x y/n #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #hbo the last of us #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #tatum’s moodboards #pero tovar #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x ofc #please be inspired to use

[pedrito-friskito]

Hiiiiii

for your Sundae thing, I’d like to do the roll for a fic option.

Americas Ass Dice bc lol, Pedro character, and if you could combine a smut and fluff prompt that would be awesome, but if not just smut is fine.

this is such a cool idea ❤️

hi lovely!!!! ok so….this one got away from me. I rolled a smut and a fluff and we got “is this real? are…are you real?” for fluff and “take off your clothes before I rip them off your body” for smut. and I rolled my favourite medieval grump, Pero Tovar! thanks for requesting, sorry I took so long, but I hope you enjoy! 💕

take my hand - pero tovar x fem!reader

word count: 4.3k (it got away from me I’m not lying LOL)

warnings: canon-typical violence, war, fighting, pero is a bit of a simp, explicit sex, unprotected p-in-v (wrap ur shit even in the old days okay)

(gif by @pedrohub)

Pero finds himself in the middle of yet another war.

He follows William, because he owes his friend a debt — a life debt. If William had not bartered for him, Pero would still be rotting away in that cell, or perhaps the soldiers would have lit black powder beneath his feet just to see what would happen. He tries not to think about it too hard.

Regardless, he has followed William, and his friend has somehow lead them to the edge of another battle, one far too large and vast for them to steer around. Everywhere he looks, blood spatters and arrows fly. The glint of blades make his hands hunger for his own swords, the sound of metal clashing ringing in his ears as they inch nearer.

“There is no going around this, Pero,” William says, squinting into the fray. “I wonder what sparked such bloodshed.”

An arrow whizzes past their heads at that point, embedding itself in a tree not three feet from Pero’s horse. In response, the steed rears back, tossing Pero from his saddle before disappearing in the direction they’d come. “Stupid fucking creature,” Pero grits, wincing as he gets to his feet. William slides from his own saddle with slightly more grace, and claps Pero on the shoulder.

“All we can do is move through the fray, my friend,” William says, pulling the bow from his shoulder and nocking an arrow.

Before Pero can protest, William disappears into the battle and Pero’s view is quickly obstructed by the clashing soldiers. With a growl, he unsheathes the two blades at his back — grateful as anything that William had thought to return them to him — and darts forward, swords at the ready.

As he moves through the fighting, finding William a little ways into the crowds, an interesting memory tugs at his mind, nearly tearing his focus. He lifts his curved blade to block a sword aiming for William’s back — though they bare no colours, he knows the pair of them appear enemies to either side — and the memory sparks to life.

+

He was young, too young, when he left the village he had grown up in. Barely out of boyhood, he was conscripted as a soldier, forced to fight in a war he had no interest in fighting. His mother had wailed when they carted him away, his little sister hiding her tears in their mother’s skirts. Their father had died not a year prior, and his entire being had instantly filled with worry at leaving them alone.

Pero reached his hand out, calling to his family, when you suddenly stepped into his vision. You grabbed his hand, running to keep up with the soldiers carrying him off, and squeezed his fingers. “I’ll watch over them, Pero,” you promised, your eyes bright with tears. “Just come home to us.”

He’d known you since he was small. The house you lived in bordered his own, a small fence separating the scraps of land. You’d grown up together, in a sense, spending your childhoods running through the grass behind your houses, playing pretend in the trees and swimming in the river that snaked through the village itself.

He was barely a man, and you were barely a woman, but you had the ferocity of a girl beyond her years. Pero could see it, even then, and especially when you swore to take care of his family.

It made conscription a touch easier, knowing someone he trusted was looking out for his mother and sister. Still, he longed for home, and on especially lonely nights, he longed for you.

The night before the soldiers had come to take him away, you’d rapped on the back door of Pero’s house. His mother and sister were asleep, and worry had leapt into his throat when he first opened the door to see you standing there, your eyes shining with starlight. “Is something wr—” he started, but you shushed him and grabbed his hand, hauling him out the door.

“Come with me!” you whispered excitedly, and Pero let you drag him down through the grass, right to the edge of the river. He tried his best to ignore the spark of warmth between your twined hands, the sounds of the night filling his ears as you toed off your shoes, gesturing for him to do the same as you stepped into the water.

“What are you up to?” he questioned, but followed you, the water lapping at his ankles.

Your hands were still linked together, and you pointed up to the sky. “Look, Pero.”

He’d never seen so many stars. The open air in the fields generally offered some impressive night skies, but this was something else. Too many to count, little dots of light everywhere his eyes moved. And then, as he stared up, something shot across the sky, as though a star was trying to move from one spot to the next. He hasped and you clutched his hand with both of yours.

“Isn’t it amazing?”

Pero’s gaze lowered, catching on your face, upturned like his. Your expression of pure awe was nothing short of beautiful, and his heart climbed up into his throat.

He’d always known you, but for the first time, he felt like he was seeing you.

“It is,” he agreed, and his free hand slowly lifted, palm finding the curve of your jaw, fingers fanning across your skin. “You are.”

“Pero—” you started, your face tilting back down to his. He moved closer, testing, making sure you wanted this just as much as he did. When he paused, you pounced, and when his lips met yours, Pero swore he saw the starry skies above bursting with light behind his eyelids.

You stood there in the riverbank, water around your ankles and your arms finding their way around each other, kissing for what felt like hours. When the water grew too cold and the sky above started to lighten with the coming day, you parted and moved back onto the grass. Pero found a blanket for you to lay on and kept himself close to you, kissing you in different ways, finding which way you liked best.

“I heard rumours,” you said after you’d both broken apart, desperate to catch your breath, “that the King’s men are marching through the villages conscripting any men old enough to fight.” There was fear in your eyes, burning hotter than the starlight. “That means you, Pero.”

The realization had sent a chill down his spine and he’d nearly toppled back.

“Promise me something,” you continued, finding his hand and slotting your fingers through his. “Please?”

He nodded and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. “Anything, bonita.”

“Promise me you’ll come back.”

“I promise.”

+

The quiet thwip of an arrow zipping past his ear yanks Pero back to the present, deposits him back into the fray. His grip nearly falters as another blade connects with his own, but the memory of your voice, suddenly so clear, has him tightening his hold, swinging the blades down and around, the point of his own sliding through the gut of his attacker. The man falls with a groan and Pero can feel his heart hammering in his chest, rioting like a caged bird.

It’s been an age since he thought of you, thought of his promise.

It was not for want of trying. He fought the King’s battles for years, lost more friends than he cares to count. Your voice in his head kept him going most days, led him through each practice with his swords, every day growing more and more confident in his blades until they felt more like an extension of him than a weapon. He had to keep himself alive, keep himself whole, so he could one day return to your village, to his family. To you.

But the wars had other plans and soon enough, he was a man grown. There were other women, and he knew you would have had other men. You were beautiful as a young girl, and Pero would be the first to admit he’s often wondered how your beauty flourished over the years. 

With every clang of his sword, he wishes you well, wishes you a happy life, a man that loves you, takes care of you. Maybe a house in that village you both grew up in, your own children running up and down the lakeshore where he’d first kissed you. He’s loath to admit he wishes he was the one to give you that life, but he wishes it for you all the same.

Men fall on both sides of him, and Pero continues through the fray. He’s lost William for certain now, and just focuses on moving forward, dodging blows on either side, spilling blood of his attackers with nearly every step. 

Arrows fly from both sides and he swears he feels the sharp tip in his shoulder before he sees it. He growls, his left side exploding with pain and launches his curved blade in the direction the arrow came. It finds it’s mark, felling the archer that shot, and Pero barrels forward, ignoring the pain, lunging for the archer and pushing the blade deeper, yelling as he goes.

“Pero Tovar!”

Pero whirls, the voice familiar and unfamiliar all an once, his memory of you tinged with the battle raging around you. Surely he’s not still caught in his own head.

But it is you. Real as the arrow lodged in his shoulder, as the blades in his hands, the hot blood on his face. You stand before him, equally covered in the gore of war. A crossbow dangles from one hand, a short sword from the other, a quiver of bolts for the former strapped to your leg. Blood spatters across your face, a bleeding gash along your collar, the hem of your cloak ripped and caked with blood.

He barely notices the soldiers that rush past as he closes the distance between you two. Your arms open for him, your face pinched with a mixture of concern and relief as he stumbles into you. You hold him to you, tilting away from his injured shoulder, and Pero can feel your eyes everywhere, inspecting him, your hands brushing his back.

Somewhere, he finds his voice, and when he does, he’s that young boy on a riverbank again, not the scarred, war-torn man he’s turned into. “Is this real? Are…are you real?”

Above the din of battle, you laugh, and the sound is like bells. “Yes, Pero, I’m real.”

He tilts his head forward just a moment, until his forehead touches yours, until he can be sure. When he feels your warm skin against his, relief floods him, blocks out any pain he feels. “I thought you—”

You hush him, squeezing his good shoulder. “Time for that later,” you say, pulling back, your eyes darting around the battlefield. He sees a soldier barrelling towards the pair of you, but before he has a chance to raise a sword, you’ve lifted your crossbow and taken aim. The bolt makes a home between the soldier’s eyes, and Pero nearly topples over. “We need to get out of here.”

You stow your short sword, curling your fingers around his wrist. His mind flashes to William, his friend somewhere buried in the fray, and he must speak his concern aloud, because your head turns back to him, your eyes peering over his shoulder. You gesture with the crossbow. “Is that your friend?”

Pero turns, ignoring the pull of the arrow still embedded in his shoulder. Sure enough, there’s William, atop a new horse, shooting arrows left and right, dropping soldiers with every shot. He spots Pero, his eyes flickering to you beside him, and turns the horse in your direction. “Tovar, my friend,” he calls, bow hanging from his grip. “Who is—”

“Ride west,” you order, and the power in your command makes the hair on the back of Pero’s neck stand up. “Clear a path. My horse is beyond the edge of the forest, it’s a few hours ride to a safe place.”

Both men stare at you blankly, Pero hoping his gaze is full of admiration while William just looks confused. With a huff, you drop Pero’s hand, stalking over and turning William’s horse west. He opens his mouth to protest, but you smack the horse’s rear before he can get a word out, and off he goes.

“Come,” you say to Pero, offering your hand. “We need to go.”

He nods, takes your hand, and you start moving. William clears the path, as ordered, and it’s easier to get through than Pero is expecting. You lift your crossbow as you go, dropping more than a handful of men, and Pero manages to raise his sword more than once, blocking arrows from your body. Soon enough, you’ve reached the edge of the fighting, and you drag Pero into the trees. He follows you blindly, the ache in his shoulder more noticeable now, but he keeps going.

Eventually, you reach your horse, as promised. A chestnut mare that shakes her head at your approach, whinnying happily when you stroke her nose. You climb into the saddle with ease, offering your hand to Pero, and he takes it again, groaning as he clambers up behind you. You click your tongue at the horse, reins in hand as Pero slides his arms around your middle, mindful of the arrow shaft still sticking out of his shoulder. 

It’s not an easy ride. Every trot jostles him, making the pain spark. Somewhere in the first hour, he reaches up and snaps the shaft of the arrow off, tossing it away. It makes it easier for him to lean closer to you, to fit his face in the curve of your neck. You smell oddly good, like blood and battle mixed with something so achingly familiar his chest goes tight with it. He tightens his arms around you, fingers laced together over your belly, and as he settles a little deeper into your back, your hand covers his, brushing over his knuckles in a soothing motion.

“Is that the place?” William calls after the second hour. Sure enough, a small cottage lies at the forest’s edge, obscured enough that you wouldn’t notice it unless you were looking for it. You nod, nudging the horse a little faster. She must recognize the place, because she leads you around the side of the cottage, where a small pasture is fenced off, and steps right through the open gate. You slide from the saddle, reaching up to offer Pero your hand, and he takes it.

Back on solid ground, safe from the battle, he can’t help himself. Your lips part, words on your tongue, but he stops them, takes your bloody face between his hands and kisses you. The world around melts away, and he’s only vaguely aware of the pain in his body, William’s horse brushing past, the win through the trees. For a moment, there’s only you.

It’s a deeper kiss than he’s ever given you. Childhood has melted from you both, kept alive only by the memories, from the affection he’s held for you all these years. Something in him stalls then, has him pulling back, a flicker in his chest when he sees the way you chase his lips, your eyes hooded.

“Gods, I’ve missed you,” you murmur, and the hesitation that made him stop, the thought that your own affection had waned over time while his had stayed alive, vanishes, and he pulls you in again. The taste of you is different on his tongue, more addicting, and it brings his body to life in ways he’s only learned since he left you. His mind races, forming images of all the ways he wants to please you, more than the teasing kisses he gave you on the riverbank that night, both of you too young and innocent to know what else to ask for.

William clears his throat loudly, and you break apart, though Pero doesn’t let you go far. He’s still close enough to feel the heat on your cheeks, and he noses at your hair as you address his friend. “We should get inside,” you say, your palm flattening on Pero’s chest. “Let me tend to your wounds and get us something to eat.”

+

A few hours later, and all is quiet in the small cottage. Your stomachs are full, thanks to you — a delicious rabbit stew Pero told you multiple times was the best meal he’d had since he left home — and your wounds have been tended to. Your collar needed a stitch or two, and Pero had to sit back and watch William’s careful efforts; his injured shoulder made it impossible for him to trust himself not to hurt you further. The blood has all been washed away, clothes washed and hung to dry, spares given to both men for the meantime.

You show William to one of the bedrooms, make sure he has everything he needs for a sound night of rest before returning to Pero. Silently, you offer him your hand, and he takes it. His heart riots in his chest as you bring him to the other bedroom. The air is heavy with promise, warmed by the fireplace in one corner, and your grip loosens once you’re inside. Pero steps toward the bed, the mountain of pillows and blankets all too inviting, but turns to see you hovering in the doorway.

“If there’s anything else you need,” you stammer out, your eyes glued to the ground. Pero’s brow lifts and he closes the distance between you quickly, pulling you through the doorway completely and shutting the door behind you.

“There is,” he tells you, knocking a knuckle beneath your chin, lifting your eyes to him. They’re just as full of stars as he remembers, just as full of wonder and promise. “You, bonita. I need you. But only…only if you’ll have me.”

Your breath rushes out of you, warm across Pero’s mouth. “If I’ll—” You cut yourself off, falling into his arms. He catches you and holds you close, the flat of his palm roaming your back, sliding down the curve of your spine, just hovering over the dip of your lower back, the swell of your ass.

“Move that hand lower, Pero Tovar,” you murmur, a slick smile on your face, “or I’ll move it for you.”

He does as he’s told, grabbing a handful of your ass through the thin linen trousers you’d donned after getting cleaned up. For a second, he thinks his mind is playing tricks on him, that the heat the greets his fingers when he adjusts his grip, slides his hand past the waist of your trousers, gripping your skin for real, that it’s a figment of his tired imagination. But then a moan slips out of you when he grips you again, your knees parting to let his thigh slip between them. Pero drinks down the noise, kisses you like he had when you’d first arrived, not so silently begs for more.

Your hands clench in his shirt, a soft cotton tunic you’d given him to wear. He can feel the bite of your nails through it, and he’s desperate to feel your skin against his. You tug at the material and Pero grins. “Tell me what you need, bonita.”

“Take off your clothes,” you bite out, reaching up with on hand and gripping his chin, nipping at his bottom lip, “before I rip them off your body.”

He moves as quickly as he can, the ache in his shoulder unnoticeable as he tears the tunic off, reaches for his trousers. You’re naked before he is, and his trousers are barely off his hips when he sees you, all of you. He can’t stop himself, grabbing you, pulling your body flush to his and bringing you back to the bed. He lays you out, lets his mouth rove lower than you lips, tasting the flesh of your chest, ducking your nipple between his teeth. He’s attentive, watching the way your body reaches to each touch he offers.

Pero sets himself beside you on the bed, his mouth moving back up to your own while his hand wanders. Your knees snap together when his hand travels past your hips, cupping the heat between your legs, trapping him there. He smiles into your kiss. “So wet, bonita,” he murmurs, letting one finger tease your dripping cunt, the heel of his hand grinding into your clit, “so sensitive.”

You whimper into his kiss, the sound like honey to his ears, and Pero buries his face in your neck, nipping at your pulse. “Wait, Pero,” you say softly, and he freezes, pulling back, searching your face.

“What is it?” he asks, using his other hand to brush the hair from your face. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, no,” you assure him, shaking your head, chewing your lip. “It’s just…”

His brow lifts. “Are you…” He can barely get the question out. “Are you a virgin?”

“No,” you reply, lifting your hand and tracing a finger over his scar. “That’s just it, Pero. I tried…I tried to wait for you. I wanted you to be the first, but then…” You shake your head again. “They told us you were dead and I…I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” he repeats, like the word is foreign to him. “Bonita, I never expected you to wait. I never expected to see you again, truth be told. The god of luck must be on my side, throwing you back in front of me like this.” He drops his head, presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, careful of the injury at your collar. “I wanted you to be the first, too, but I…” He clears his throat. “I can think of something much better.”

“What’s that?”

“Perhaps I can be your last, and you mine.”

Your breath hitches as you pull him back down to you, the next kiss you offer even deeper than before. Pero drinks you down, memorizes the tastes of you. His hand works between your legs, two fingers pressing inside you, finding that deep spot that makes your body jolt in his arms. He murmurs to you softly in Spanish, words he knows you understand, and coaxes you up to that peak, thumbing at your clit as you topple over, gripping his wrist tight enough he can feel his bones shift.

“Pero,” you groan out, your chest heaving as you come back down, your lashes fluttering as you breathe. “More.”

“More, bonita?” he prompts, pulling his hand away, licking his knuckles clean. He’s not shy about it, sucking the taste of you from his skin, dropping his face to your chest when he’s done, scraping his teeth along the curves of your breasts. “Tell me, how much more do you need?”

“Need you inside, Pero,” you reply, your body writhing beneath his, back arching into his mouth. “Need to feel all of you.” Your hand snakes down between your bodies, fingers wrapping around his cock. It makes his breath stutter in his chest, but he doesn’t let up his ministrations, nipping at your sternum. “I can’t tell you how many nights I laid awake, with my hand between my legs, thinking of where you were, the man you’d turned into, how well you’d fuck me if you were there with me.” Your other hand grips his chin again, lifting his head from your chest, your eyes locked with his. “Don’t keep me waiting any longer.”

“Sí, bonita,” he grits out, and maneuvers you both the best he can. He slides to the edge of the bed, pulling you into his lap. You’ve got him hard as a rock between your hot kisses and your heady touches and your dirty words, and his cock bobs against his stomach, sliding through the dip where your thigh meets your hip as you settle into his lap. “You like it like this?”

“I’m yours, Pero,” you say, your voice soft. “You can have me however you like.”

The words make something in his chest snap. Pero slings his arm around your waist and lifts you just enough to notch his cock at your entrance, groaning at the heat that instantly floods him. Unable to hold back any longer, he pulls you down hard, filling you to the hilt in one fell swoop, and the loud gasp you let loose is music to his ears. 

“Mine, bonita,” he growls, gripping your hips in both hands, bouncing you on his cock. “All mine.”

Your words are gone, replaced with open-mouthed nods, your brows pinched together. You twine your arms around his neck, locking your fingers in his hair. Pero plants his feet on the ground, uses the floor as leverage to piston his hips up into yours, driving his cock deep into you, finding that same spot his fingers had grazed. It makes your body seize, your chest plastered to his, and Pero can feel the quick thump of your heart as you start to climb that peak once more.

He’s not far behind you, and when you clench around him, pleasure flooding your body a second time, he can’t hold back. Pero drops his mouth against your shoulder, bites down hard, and your responding moan has him spilling deep inside you, painting your insides with his spend. The feeling is almost too much, overwhelming in all the right ways. 

“Gods above,” you murmur, your fingers stroking through his hair, your lips at his temple, “that was…”

Pero lifts his head and finds you mouth, giving you a soft kiss that tastes of salt and a tinge of copper. “Everything, bonita.” Another kiss. “That was everything.”

#my fics #take my hand #sleepover sundae #pero tovar #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar fic #pero tovar smut #pero tovar fluff

[604to647]

Mi Galleta (Part 1 - Ginger Molasses)

5.9K / Modern AU Grumpy Bouncer!Pero Tovar x Sunshine-Rich Girl!reader

Summary: You meet Pero Tovar, the grumpy bouncer of a high-end restaurant your friend really wants to eat at, and over the course of one week, you try to convince him to grant you and your friends access.

Warnings: Kind of a silly premise, but let's go with it! Fluff (Pero has one dirty thought), lots of food (including dishes I made up in my mind), cute nickname (won't spoil).

A/N: I love food and I love Pero? And I know Pero loves food, so I said, let's put him in the restaurant business 🤭 Did I mention that this whole thing was born from a dream? All cute dividers by @saradika-graphics 🥰 Series Masterlist

“Uggghhh!! I don’t understand how you’re supposed to eat here??!”

Your friend Dorothy is having an absolute fit, bordering on a tantrum, and you can’t help but bite down on your lip to keep from laughing.  Normally, you can diffuse Dorothy’s rage with a well-timed joke and a hug, but it doesn’t look like that’s going to work just yet.  Better let her exhaust herself a little more first.

“It’s like this restaurant doesn’t want people to come!!”

“Well, maybe it’s not worth going to then?” asks your other friend Eloise in a helpful tone, which seems like a miscalculation because Dorothy’s arms flail in the air erratically at the question.

“Of course, we have to go!  It’s only the hottest restaurant opening; everyone is talking about it!  We have to be there!!”  Dorothy crosses her arms and exhales with an exaggerated pout.

Very gently you put your arms around her and pat her arm soothingly, “A new restaurant opens, like, every week.  We can’t go to them all?”

Dorothy looks like she’s going to cry, “But I want to go to this one!  And the fact that they’re making it so exclusive is making me want to go MORE.”  You giggle and kiss the top of her head.  Some people (okay maybe a lot of people), might say that Dorothy is a brat, but you love her to bits.  And Eloise too.  Of all your friends, the three of you are the closest, having known each other the longest.  There are a lot of misconceptions about kids that go to expensive prep schools, the biggest being that you don’t make friends, you make connections <insert eye-roll>.   You’ve known these two women since your days of school uniforms and college prep classes; you’ve seen each other through thick and thin, no one knows you better and is quicker to uplift and support you whenever you need.  They are the dearest, most loyal and steadfast friends a person could ever ask for and you dare anyone to say differently. 

“Okay,” you say, not one to give up on anything, even if it’s your friend’s short-term dream of eating in a restaurant that apparently doesn’t want any patrons, “what do we know?”

“Food and wine critics have been hinting that a major restauranteur is opening a new location this month and it’s going to be called ‘Lin’.  There’s no phone number you can call to make a reservation.  There haven’t been any private or soft opening invitations sent out.  There is no information or even contact information online.  The only thing I know is the location, and that’s only because my wine guy is supplying the restaurant and he told me he’s been making big deliveries in preparation for the opening.”

“Right, your wine guy,” you chuckle.  Of course Dorothy has a wine guy.  There's not much Dorothy doesn’t have. Nor Eloise.  Or you, for that matter.  You’ve always been more than aware of the privileges and good fortune bestowed upon your life by the sheer cosmic luck of having been born who you are and to your loving family – for the entirety of your life, you’ve been lucky enough to never want for anything, nor suffered any great misfortune or injustice.  You know you’ve done nothing to deserve such advantages and so you’ve vowed never to take any of it for granted.  You studied hard, work hard at a job you love, give back generously, and intend to make your way in the world with a positive impact on those around you, the way your parents have modelled.  And right now, Dorothy is in need of some positivity.

“Well go on, what’s the address then?” you ask; Dorothy perks up at this and shows you the address she has pulled up on her maps app.  “That’s right by my office!” you exclaim, surprised, “How about this?  I’ll go and poke around on my lunch break this week and see what I can find out?”

Dorothy squeals and throws her arms around you, and Eloise comes over laughing to join in the reverie.  Joyfully, the three of you spend the rest of the afternoon cooking up schemes for your investigative adventure on Monday.

Monday

You look up at the building number, then back down at your phone to double check the address.  This doesn’t look like a restaurant at all, never mind a trendy one on the precipice of opening its doors; this looks like… an office building.  You peek through the double glass doors and see exactly what you would expect in an office lobby: an information desk, a few modern design chairs arranged into a makeshift waiting area, and an elevator bank.  Pushing lightly on the doors, you’re surprised to find that they open easily; you step in to the quiet lobby and with a slight trepidation call out, “Hello? Is there anyone here?”  Met with silence, you walk in a little further and look around – not finding anything remarkable, no signs or directions for Lin or any other clues, you make your way to the elevator bank; surely there will be some sort of building directory near the elevators that can tell you something.

“May I help you with something, miss?”

You practically squeak from surprise before turning around to face the deep, accent-lilted baritone voice that snuck up on you.  Whatever you were expecting, it wasn’t the tall, broad shouldered, brute of a man scowling at you.  His impossible width and towering presence, coupled with the scar over his left eye should be enough to frighten you, but his chocolate brown eyes flash a momentary softness that has you more curious about him than anything.

“Oh yes please!  Do you happen to know which way to the restaurant?” you figure pretending to know more than you do can’t hurt.

The stranger’s countenance shifts to something softer, something more like disapproval rather than outright distain (an improvement!) and he hesitates, as if deciding how to answer.  Then suddenly, as if to proceed before he can talk himself out of it, he gives a slight nod to the elevators.

Though he maintains his outward glower, Pero can’t help but be charmed by the gleeful smile you give him as you press the button to call the elevator; you look giddy with excitement, and he almost wishes he doesn’t have to disappoint you. 

Once the elevator doors open, you step in looking for any additional signs or clues on where you’re supposed to go; finding none, you decide you’ll just try every floor until you find what you’re looking for.  However, when you go to press the first button, it lights up at your touch but quickly dims when you let go. Same with the next button. And the next.  Holding the elevator door open with one hand, you peek your head out to find the tall stranger waiting for you at the end of the elevator bank, almost expectantly.  Although still wearing his scowl, you’re sure you detect a small smile itching to escape, struggling valiantly to tug up the corner of his mouth.  Ever so sweetly you call out, “Excuse me!  Do you know how I can get access to these floors?”

In response, Pero wordlessly holds up a plastic fob he retrieves from his pocket and smirks (there it is).

You chuckle to yourself; this is shaping up to be quite the puzzle.  You love puzzles.

The gatekeeper to the restaurant has already turned to silently return to his post when you step off the elevator and follow him; you find him sitting behind the information desk, looking sternly at his laptop and some papers.  You’re positive that he’s only pretending to 1) fill out the paperwork and 2) ignore you, so you don’t feel bad about the Grade A pestering you’re about to inflict on him.

“Soooooo… who gets to decide who you let up?” you chirp, cheerily.

Silence.

Your sweet tone does not waver one bit, “Is there a list?  Or like, an application, to get on the list?”

Silence.  Then something like a sigh.

“There must be a list.  How does one, get on the list?” you smile because you know you’re wearing him down.

“You won’t know until you try.”  Finally!  A response!

You make a big show of pretending to think, pursing your lips and tapping them gently with your perfectly manicured nails, “So bribery.  Cool, cool.”

Silence.

“Do you want… my sandwich?” you hold out the lunch bag you have in your hand from your favourite sandwich shop.

“No, thank you.”  Pero’s not looking at you; he’s afraid he might crack if he does.

“Good.  This is my favourite sandwich,” if you’re not mistaken, you think you see the stranger’s shoulders shake a little, as if suppressing a laugh.

But still, more silence. 

“Are you here everyday?” you tilt your head questioningly, and even though the man is not looking at you, you give him your widest doe eyes and softest pleading expression.

Pero almost wishes he hadn’t looked up, so instantly disarmed he is by the innocent look you’re giving him.  For a moment, he imagines what it might be like to have you giving him this same look from between his legs while on your knees, before he forces himself to snap out of his daydream with something close to a groan.  To cover up this noise, he gives a curt nod.

And then, although you couldn’t possibly be reading his filthy mind, you say, “May I come… back?” and Pero almost perishes when he hears the first three words of your question.  He once again gives you a brusque tip of his head so not to betray any of his thoughts.  Perfectly satisfied, you throw him another heart-stopping smile before practically flouncing out of the lobby, leaving Pero feeling positively thrown at what just happened.    

Tuesday

You stand in front of the information desk, patiently waiting for Pero to look up.  It takes him a few minutes to look at you, but you don’t mind.  You rock back and forth on your heels, taking in the finer design details of the lobby that you hadn’t had an opportunity to admire yesterday.

“Hello again,” his tone is gruff, but you think not unfriendly.

Excited, you brace yourself on the desk and lean forward, eyes full of mirth, “Hi!  Are you ready for your bribe?”

Looking impassive, Pero leans back in his chair and gestures openly with his hands, “Alright. Show me what you got.”

Pulling a container out of your bag, you place it in front of him and smile expectantly.

Pero examines the container with suspicion, but when he opens it, he does so with mock trepidation, as if the contents might explode and you giggle at his theatrics.  It’s the sweetest sound Pero’s ever heard.  Looking into the container, he sees it’s filled with cookies; he doesn’t know what he had expected, but it certainly wasn’t home baked goods.

He picks up a cookie and bites into it gingerly, trying to ignore how adorable he finds your look of anticipation.

“So?”

Pero arches his eyebrow in silence, a question in response to your question.

“Have I successfully bribed you into letting me and my friends up to the restaurant?” your eyes wide with hope.

“No, sorry.”

You can’t help but let your face fall, “Oh shoot.  Were they not good?”

“Oh no, it’s very good… just not my favourite cookie,” Pero knows he could lie to you, but he’s sure you wouldn’t want that.

“Oh!” This you can work with, “Ok, if we’re going to do this, I’m going to need you to rank it, so I know if I’m getting closer.”

You lean over his desk and help yourself to a note pad; pulling a pen from your purse, you write the date, then neatly next to it “Ginger Molasses” and “_ /10” before pushing the paper back towards the bouncer.  Pero tries not to smile while you impatiently watch him as he makes a show of thinking, tapping his fingers against his lip much like you did yesterday; he carefully pencils in a “7”. 

“Not bad, not bad, not bad,” you chant to yourself, invigorated as you get up to go.  “I’ll grab the container next time,” you say over your shoulder while giving the man a little wink.  Pero waits until you’re gone before stuffing his face with your delicious cookies.

Wednesday

The next day, you return on your lunch break with white chocolate macadamia nut cookies.  You’re not sure, but the bouncer looks like he’s expecting you; at least his scowling face seems to relax slightly when he sees you.

Keen to get started, you hurry through the usual pleasantries before quickly depositing the box in front of Pero.  Inwardly, he’s amused by your eagerness.

You burst out laughing when Pero holds up a finger after he opens your container and reaches down next to him to open the door of a mini fridge and pulls out a bottle of milk.  Confirming what he thought yesterday, that your laugh is the loveliest sound he’s ever heard, Pero’s chests puffs in pride at having been able to draw it out of you. He makes a big show of biting down into an oversized cookie for your amusement and takes a comical swig of milk before pulling out the pad you had used yesterday for the cookie rankings.

When you try to peer over him to see the score he’s giving, his hunches over and covers the paper with his arm, huffing dramatically.  You giggle some more.  You have to admit the bouncer is growing on you, his scary glare clearly a facade for work, because he’s actually quite funny.  And cute. 

Pero leans back and turns the pad towards you.  You see he’s written neatly under your writing from yesterday: the date and “White Chocolate Macadamia 7.5/10”

“Oh!  It’s an improvement at least!” you say with pride.

Pero nods, though not smiling, no longer bothering to put on his customary frown, “It’s very good.  But still not my favourite cookie.”

“That’s okay, I’m doing better, that’s what matters.”  Pero thinks that if he could be responsible for the smile that’s currently on your face for the rest of his days, he could die happy.

Then to his surprise, you pull out two more containers from your bag; for a moment, Pero thinks he’s in for another cookie, but when he leans forward curiously, he sees that the containers contain some kind of pasta salad.

Holding out one of the containers to the bouncer, you offer, almost shyly, “Can you have lunch?”

“No.” 

Oh.  Maybe this was too much.  Your face falls a little, before nodding, “I guess you’re working, sorry.”

Pero falters a bit when he sees your sweet face looking sad; he knows his grumpy exterior can put people off, but he didn’t mean to do so this time.  Not to you. “You can have lunch though,” he gestures to the other chair behind the desk, next to him.

You brighten immediately, face breaking out into a big grin, “Really?”

“Yes, really,” Pero pushes his chair in a little to give you some more room to pass behind of him. 

Happily, you plop down on the free seat and get out two forks.  You lay one on a container and push it towards him, and pick up the other to start digging into your salad, “Is it a rule you can’t eat here?  I hope you don’t get in trouble for the cookies.”

Touched by your concern, Pero explains, “There’s no rule, but it doesn’t look very intimidating if I’m savouring a baked good while turning people away from the restaurant.”

Mouth full of food, you cover your mouth daintily with your hand, “Why do you turn them away?”

“The owners are really passionate about this restaurant; so much time and heart has gone into every aspect, from the menu to the decor.  Lin is a fusion of Spanish and Chinese cuisines, with some Latin influences; all these cultures are rich in history, beloved and cherished by their people and the owners.  The restaurant is named for one of their wives.  They just want the people who come and eat here first to be people that will truly immerse themselves and enjoy the experience and food, appreciate it for the labour of love that it is.  Not people here for clout.”

“That’s really sweet.  I didn’t know Lin held such a special meaning,” you smile, genuinely touched as Pero tucks the containers you brought him away for later, “How can you tell who’s here for clout and who isn’t?”

“Just my gut,” Pero says simply; he reaches into his drawer and pulls out the container you left him with yesterday, cleaned.

You’re surprised and gratified, “Oh, thank you!  You didn’t have to clean it!”

“You would have done the same.”

“Well, I mean… yes, but…”

“Then you deserve the same back,” his tone kind, but factual.

You grin as you look down, taking the container before looking back up at Pero with an amused look, “You seem fairly sure in what you know about me, but you don’t even know my name.”

“I’ve just been calling you ‘Cookie’ in my head.”

You feel your face flush at the idea that he’s given you a pet name and tell him he can call you ‘Cookie’ if he wants, but also give him your name.

“Pero Tovar,” he introduces himself, holding out his hand; when you shake it, you’re pleasantly surprised at the gentleness with which he touches you.  You can feel a strength and self-assuredness in his grip, but the way he handles you is almost careful.  Like you’re precious.

“Ok, Pero Tovar,” you beam, loving the opportunity to let his name roll off your tongue, “what’s your favourite part about working here?”

“The bribes,” he quips without missing a beat before he winks at you.  You shouldn’t feel your heart skip a beat from such a small gesture, but you’re filled with a lot of fondness for Pero suddenly and you look back down at your salad so he can’t see the way you’re grinning.

He does see, however, and he finds himself experiencing a similar fondness for you.  He earnestly answers your question, telling you about the delicious food, the months of recipe R&D all the staff took part in, and the hardworking team they’ve put together upstairs.

The remainder of your lunch hour passes too quickly for your liking.  Your conversation with Pero never wanes; you find that not only do you have a love of food in common, but can apparently both talk about it for hours.  Pero is funny and thoughtful; something that is readily reflected in his more natural expression.  You almost laugh out loud each time a potential restaurant patron comes in and he immediately flips a switch and turns on what you now suspect is just a scary work persona.  Especially if once that person is out of sight, he immediately softens his handsome features and goes back to telling you about the best gelato he’s ever had.

Thursday

The following day, you’re met with a surprise as you approach Pero’s building; normally anytime you run into your friends unexpectedly, it’s a pleasant surprise, but it doesn’t appear to be very pleasant for Eloise and Dorothy today.  In fact, Dorothy looks downright surly. 

“Babes!  What are you doing here?  What’s wrong?” you exclaim, both confused and concerned.

“Ugh!” Dorothy actually stomps her foot, “That neanderthal won’t let us up for lunch.  What is it going to take?  He won’t even tell us why or give us a chance to change his mind.”

“Pero?” you ask, still unsure of what happened, “You talked to Pero?”

Eloise steps in, because Dorothy looks like she’s about to have an aneurism at the sound of his name, “We finished up some of the content we were making nearby, so we thought we’d come down and give getting in a shot, since you said you don’t think it’s impossible.  We figured, best case, you’re coming down here anyways – maybe we could all have lunch at Lin together, and worst thing would be we don’t get in, but then we’d be meeting up with you and we could go get lunch somewhere else?”

“NO,” Dorothy grits through her teeth, “The worst thing would be if we had to deal with that self-important ass.  Who died and made him king?!”

After what Pero told you yesterday about the owners of Lin and how they want their patrons to experience the restaurant, you know exactly why Pero didn’t let your friends up, but you’re not about to tell them lest you want to hear more expletives directed at him.  Maybe you can help smooth it over.

“Do you guys think you can give me ten minutes to talk to him?  Then let’s go to Quattro for lunch?” you ask, picking one of Dorothy’s favourite restaurants in an effort to placate her.

“Come on, Dorie,” Eloise tugs at Dorothy’s sleeve, employing the nickname only she and you are allowed to use, “There’s some really good lighting down the street.  Let’s get a couple more shots for Instagram.”

“FINE,” Dorothy begrudgingly agrees, then points at you, “but ten minutes only.  Then we’re coming in to rescue you from that asshat.”  You don’t tell her that her scowl right now could give that asshat’s scowl a run for its money.

When you walk in to the building and approach the front desk, your heart melts when you see Pero’s face crack a small smile upon seeing you, “Hey, Cookie.”

As you approach the edge of his desk, he moves to scoot forward in his chair like he did yesterday when he invited you to eat with him, “Can you stay to have lunch again today?”

Staying where you are, you shake your head and give him a look of regret, “No, sorry.  Not today.” You shouldn’t but you feel your heart warm a little at the way his face falls in disappointment.  You reach into your bag and bring out two containers, one with a sandwich for him, and the other with today’s cookie offering: salted caramel.

“I was going to stay, but now it seems that I have two very upset friends that I need to take out to lunch,” you give him a small playful smile so he knows it’s not (too) serious.

It takes him a second to make the connection, but the instant he does, his face reverts back into the deep scowl he probably gave your friends.  You’re not sure what possesses you, maybe it’s the desire to see the softer expression that he normally reserves for you, but you reach out and touch Pero’s face, your fingers lightly grazing the scruff of his jawline.  He looks at you with a small look of surprise but doesn’t move away.  “Please don’t judge them too harshly,” you ask of him gently, “I know they probably didn’t come off that way, but they’re the exact type of people who would appreciate Lin in the way that the owners hope.  They are very good people, I promise.  And very dear to me.”

Pero doesn’t know how he could ever refuse you anything, the soft lilt of your voice and the eloquence of your words would be enough to convince him of anything he’s sure.  He gives you a little nod and is rewarded with your sweet smile.

He misses your touch immediately when you withdraw your hand from his face; so much so that when you ask if he’s ready for today’s cookie, he reaches out to place his hand on your waist before nodding.

You gasp a little when he holds you, wondering how you got here, from strangers to exchanging small familiar touches in less than a week; but you can’t say it doesn’t feel right.  You don’t know what this connection with Pero is or where it’s going, but you know you don’t want it to end.

Opening the container, you tilt it towards him and watch him select a cookie.  Giving it a once over, Pero takes a big bite and chews thoughtfully as you wait for his verdict.  You don’t try to peek at the scorecard today, but when he shows you, it’s with an apologetic look on his face, “Sorry, Cookie.  Don’t be mad.”

“Oh no…” your eyes widen when looking for the number, “… a 2??!” You look up at Pero, horrified.  “Did I do something wrong?  Mix up an ingredient?”  You grab a cookie from the container and take a bite; it tastes as expected, no surprise ingredient or taste.  Oh no.  It tastes the way you think it should and he hates it.   

It’s so silly.  People are allowed to not like your cookies, but you hadn’t realized how badly you had wanted to impress Pero until you… didn’t.  He’s being very nice about it, still eating the one he’s holding in his hand, but you think you might cry; although you try not to, your face assumes the corresponding saddened expression anyways, “Oh, I’m so sorry they’re not good.”  You attempt to close the container and take it away.

Pero’s heart nearly breaks at the look on your face, and he chastises himself for being the cause.  Wanting more than anything to make you feel better, he gently takes back the container, “They are very good.  Really, Cookie,” he tries to convince you when you look up at him, dubious, “I’m just not a big fan of caramel, that’s all.  They’re still delicious.”

You can’t tell if he’s lying just to make you feel better, but a little part of you likes the idea that he would care to. 

Desperate now to make you smile, Pero suggests, “How about you and your friends come back tonight for dinner at Lin?”

“No!  No way,” you practically shout, to Pero’s surprise, “Not for a 2!! I didn’t earn it.”

He concedes a little, “It’s more like a 3, maybe even 4.  They’re delicious, just not for me.”

Shaking your head, you won’t budge, “No, no, no.  I don’t want your pity points.  It’s a 2, and that’s the final score.  And that’s not a sufficient bribe.  I’ll try again tomorrow.”

Pero breathes a little sigh of relief upon hearing that you plan on coming back.  When he reaches into his desk to get you your cleaned containers from yesterday, he confirms, “Ok, tomorrow it is then.”

As you’re packing away your containers, he continues, “…until then, I have something for you.”

You look up in surprise, “Something for me?”

“Of course. You bring me delicious food everyday, it would be ungentlemanly of me not to return the favour.”  With that, he pulls out a takeout box from the mini fridge that he’s been saving for you.

You’re delighted; you’re not sure what it is but you’re touched by Pero’s thoughtfulness.

“It’s the shrimp toast I told you about yesterday.”

You squeal, “From upstairs?”

He nods as you happily take the box from him; it’s one of the Chinese-Spanish fusion dishes that he had described to you that supposedly exemplifies the type of cuisine Lin does best.  He’s been looking forward to sharing it with you and seeing what you think.

“Oh Pero, thank you so much!  I’ve been thinking about this and how it might taste since you told me about it yesterday!  Is it okay if I share it with my friends?” you ask, shyly.

Of course, you would think of sharing with others; Pero nods his permission.

“Thank you, thank you!” you’re beaming and before you can talk yourself out of it, you lean down and give Pero a kiss on the cheek and promptly skip out the front doors.

Hand to his cheek, Pero watches as you wave over your friends, the same two women he had turned away from the restaurant not 15 minutes ago, and sees you excitedly present the box to them.  The three of you open the box, and peer in eagerly, each reaching in to take out one shrimp toast; you wait for each other and adorably cheers your food before each taking a big but elegant bite.

He can’t help but grin as he listens to your collective squeals and exclamations of approval that he can hear even through the closed doors.  The flavour explosion on your tongue is incredible, the flavours of the two cuisines melding perfectly; each bite is perfect.  “So gooood!” Eloise moans, and the three of you dance around happily while savouring a second toast each.  When you’re done, you wave enthusiastically at Pero through the glass and give him a big thumbs up, then you and your friends chorus “Thank you, Pero!!!” before setting off for lunch, giggling.

Friday

You had mulled over which cookie to bake all evening.  Pero doesn’t seem to like the cookies that are too sweet, which kind of feels in line with his personality, so you settle on Oatmeal Raisin; an oldie but a goodie.

Unable to contain the skip in your step when you’re heading to his building today, you’re feeling positively giddy.  And it’s all due to Pero.  He’s so different that you initially thought – he’s thoughtful, and funny, and capable of unexpected kindness.  Of course, he’s still a bit rough, bordering on fearsome, but you think it lends itself to his particular brand of handsomeness; his scruffiness and that scar over his left eye have invaded your dreams more than once this week.

Before you can even take out today’s cookies though, Pero invites you to sit down behind the desk and asks you to wait for him while he disappears into an opening in the far corner of the lobby.  You wait there for about five minutes, amusing yourself with what you might do if a restaurant patron were to come in, when you hear the ding of an unseen elevator and see Pero reemerge from the same alcove.

He’s carrying a little tray with a cover on it; setting it down in front of you, he says with exaggerated flair, “Lunch is served, princesa” and lifts the little silver dome.

The only thing that can distract you from the new nickname is the mouthwatering smell of the food that's on the plate in front of you.  Pero watches you examine the dish and is mollified when you ask, “Is that... stewed pork belly in an arepa??!”  Proud that you got it right away, he gestures for you to try it, and you enthusiastically pick up the stuffed patty and take a giant bite.  You can’t help but moan.  The rich savoury flavour of the pork is perfectly offset by the crisp veggies and the light spread inside the bread; the softness of the fat positively melts into the crispy texture of the warm arepa.  You’re in heaven. 

“Good?” Pero can’t help but feel a sense of pride from your obvious approval of the dish.

“Omigod, s’good,” you mumble, mouth still full. When you’re done swallowing, you feel a surge of tenderness towards the man in front of you who seems to share your love language of food, “Thank you, Pero!  This is so amazing.  Lin has to have some of the best food I’ve ever tasted.  This and the shrimp toast from yesterday are all so well executed and flavourful, and all so incredibly unique.  You can taste the love the owners put in; please, please pass on my compliments if you don’t mind?  This place is going to be such a success.”

Pero sits back down, looking at you with a look that you can’t quite place, something between adoration and amusement as you continue to stuff your face.  In between bites, you hand him your box of cookies, which he eagerly opens.  Unbeknownst to you, he’s already decided that he would give you and your friends the go ahead today; after yesterday, he knew he would do anything to put a smile on your face.  But he also didn’t expect you to have guessed his favourite cookie on the fourth try.  Devouring two cookies in a row, he takes out the now familiar pad of paper and marks down today’s score: 10, circled three times for effect.

You practically squeal in excitement, eyes wide in disbelief, “Really?! You liked it that much?”

Pero nods, thrilled at your reaction, “Loved it, Cookie.  Oatmeal raisin is my favourite.”

You throw your arms around him in a big hug, and revel in the warmth that flows through you when you feel his strong arms encircle your waist.  Getting a hold of yourself, you sit back down in your chair, making yourself presentable with your back straight and your hands clasped in your lap, “So, Mr. Pero Tovar, have I successfully bribed my way upstairs?”

Unable to supress his chuckle, Pero answers in equal seriousness, “I would say so.  How about tonight at eight.  Dinner for three, I presume?”

“Oh yes!  Thank you!! Eloise and Dorothy are going to be so pleased! And I am as well, of course,” you look at him with some renewed shyness, “Will you be working tonight?”

“I will.  I’ll probably be off before you finish dinner, but I’ll be here to let you up.”

“Ack!  I can’t wait!” You ask if you can help Pero with the dirty dishes, but he waves you off.  You leave him with the quiche you brought him for lunch before waving goodbye and texting the girls the good news.

---

At 8 p.m. on the dot, you, Dorothy and Eloise, walk through the front doors of Lin; Pero is in the elevator bank letting the people in front of you up, so the three of you wait patiently by his desk.  When he turns, he has his signature work scowl on, but immediately softens when he sees you.

“Hey Cookie, ready to go up?”

You nod happily, and introduce your friends.

“Oh, we’ve met,” Pero’s eyes narrow before he smirks, to which Eloise looks bashful and Dorothy puts on her most innocent expression.

Once you’re in the elevator, Dorothy pokes you in the back and gives you an encouraging look; taking a deep breath, you stop Pero’s hand when he reaches in with the fob and gently push him backwards, walking him back down the elevator bank.  Pero looks confused, “Is something wrong, princesa?”

Looking at him innocently, you ask, “Pero, may I have your phone?”

He unlocks and hands it to you without question, curious.  You quickly snap a selfie and put yourself in as a new contact with your phone number, before handing it back, “In case you get a craving for any cookies.”

Pero blushes when he realizes what you’ve done, but as he walks you back towards the elevator, he does so with his hand resting comfortably on your lower back.  Leaning in to press the elevator buttons for you, he whispers, “Can I call you later, Cookie?”

You answer with a quick peck to his cheek and a small nod; his grinning face is the last thing you see before the elevator doors close.

#pero tovar #pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar fic #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar x you #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #modern!pero tovar #modern au #no y/n

[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

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Seed [Pero Tovar x f!reader]

Read on AO3

Fandom: The Great Wall

Ships: Pero Tovar x f!reader

Tags/warnings: breeding kink from here to high heaven, fear of infertility, lots of piv sex and creampies, multiple orgasms, fingering, pero eats it from the back, praise kink, dirty talk, pet names.

Words: 4,022

Summary: Your husband Pero comes home to put a baby in you. Don't look at me.

The smell of fresh-caught fish mixes with the salty breeze from the sea, and the sweet scent of oranges. You carry your basket through the marketplace, grocery shopping done, when you hear a call from the crowd: "They're back!"

Your heart skips a beat as you swing around, your skirt dancing around your ankles as you see the trade caravan coming down the main street to the marketplace. Your eyes scan the faces, quickly finding the one you are hoping to see.

Your husband, Pero.

Since marrying you and settling in this quiet small town by the sea, he no longer sells his sword to warlords and kings. Instead, he provides protection for caravans. He is mostly away for a week or two at a time, but this time he has been away for months. You have carried your worry and longing stoically, never showing your neighbours your fear, but now you do not care if everybody sees the relief and happiness on your face. You are not the only one with a husband in the caravan, but you are the only one whose husband wields a weapon for a living.

Pero spots you from afar, and he urges his horse into a trot. The clip-clop of the shoed hooves against the cobblestones is the sweetest music you have heard in a long time. You stand still, a smile on your lips, and put the basket down when Pero swings down from horseback, pulls you to him, and wraps his strong arms around you.

"Wife," he murmurs into your hair. "My precious wife."

Your arms reach around his armoured middle as you bury your face in his shoulder. He smells of the road: dust, sweat, and grime, but you do not care. Underneath all that, you can smell him: horse, hay, earth, metal, spices. You cannot wait to drown in him.

Slowly, Pero strokes your head, making you look at him. You cup his cheek, feeling the stubble that renders his face darker than usual, and unevens the moustache.

"Are you unharmed?" you want to know. He nods slowly.

"Mad from missing you, but not a scratch on me."

He touches his lips to yours, just a gentle little return kiss from an absent husband to his beloved wife, but you know that as soon as you are behind closed doors, he is going to devour you.

"Let's go home," you suggest, enjoying the way your husband's beautiful brown eyes melt into dark liquid.

He helps you up on the horse and mounts behind you. Your basket securely in front of you and Pero sliding one arm around your waist to hold you close, he steers the horse homeward with his other hand. He does not speak as you leave the marketplace, and he does not need to. The two of you always found each other's silences comfortable. Besides, no words are needed to let you know he wants you: his cock is growing hard against the soft roundness of your ass pushing against it. A shiver runs down your spine and ends up on a blossoming pool of arousal between your thighs. Your hand finds Pero's on your waist, fingers disappearing between his in a loving clasp.

You reach your little house, Pero dismounting first so that you can slide off the horse and into his arms. He holds you close again, now with a full erection pressing against you.

"Go inside," he murmurs. "I have to put the horse away."

You push your pelvis against him, smirking at his low groan, before you take the basket and go in. You have barely emptied the basket onto the kitchen table before Pero comes in, kicking the door close as he starts to unlace his breeches.

He takes you on the table, breeches undone just enough to let his cock out, your skirts pulled up to your waist to let him in. A frantic coupling where you exchange breathless moans, claw at each other's bodies through clothes, his cock pressing deep into you as his fingers plant blooming bruises on your thighs. He spills into you before long, cock twitching in the welcoming squeeze of your cunt, and lowers his forehead to yours as he catches his breath. You comb your fingers through his dark hair, curling at the nape of his neck. The amount of silver has increased, scattered like stars across the dark clouds of his soft hair. You kiss the scar over his left eye, both above and under his closed eyelid.

"You need a haircut," you mumble, despite not really wanting him to cut off the soft curls. "And a shave."

"I need you." His initial thirst for you may have been slaked, but his hunger is not sated, and neither is yours.

"You have me now."

He straightens his back and rolls his head, a joint cracking loudly. Slowly, you come down from the table and start to lace up the bindings of his armour. He watches you do it, pulling the bodice of your dress down your shoulders and caresses the exposed skin, stares into your cleavage.

"Wife," he demands, hand on your waist, "Are you with child yet?"

You cast your eyes down. You have been trying to have a child since you were wed. The attraction between the two of you was always there, and pleasure has always been an important part of your married life - before as well, even if he never put it in before you were wed - but there has always been another motive to your coupling as well. You both want a child, several, but one to start with. He takes every opportunity to sow his seed in you, and you welcome every attempt.

But so far, it has not taken.

"My love." Pero caresses your head. "We have time. We will try again."

He kisses your cheek, and leans in towards your ear, his breath hot when he whispers: "And again... and again... and again..."

A husky giggle escapes you and you wrap your arms around his neck as you seek his lips for a kiss. He lifts you up, skirts rustling, and carries you to bed. The kisses turn slower as you undress each other, hands reclaiming every bit of revealed skin. His hard muscles relax when you pass your palm over them, fingers chasing his old familiar scars to trace and love. His hands are dry and callused when he cups your soft breasts, but he still holds you gently. His unshaved face tickles your stomach when he trails kisses over it, but your giggles turn to moans when he buries his face between your thighs, tongue probing between slick lips where his precious seed is dripping out. He assaults your clit, has you thrashing and wailing his name until the sheets are crumpled and you are shaking with the intensity of your release. He rests his chin on your thigh, looking up at you with both a satisfied smirk and adoring eyes.

"That's my girl," he praises you softly. "Let the neighbours know that your husband is home."

You chuckle breathlessly. Your cunt is throbbing hotly, and you pass your hands over your face before reaching for Pero.

"Come to me, husband."

He crawls over you, hissing softly when you close your hand over his cock, and guide it into you. It slides in so easily, but still fills you up so perfectly.

"Oh..." you gasp, eyes falling shut as you bite down on your lower lip. "Pero..."

"I know, precious, I know... but you have to look at me."

He cups your face and kisses you, and when he pulls back, you open your eyes, only to drown in the dark pools of his.

"I want you to look at me when I fill you with my seed," he growls, fingers tangling in your hair. "Look at me when I fuck a baby into you."

His voice is strangled, his hips grind tightly against yours. It is slower now than that first, hurried time, but still intense, desperate in a whole new way. You are hypnotized by him, his presence, his weight on top of you, his cock ravaging your very womb, his low voice that always knows just how to drop to make you wet, that scarred gaze of his that scowls at everyone else but turns soft and vulnerable when directed at you.

"Breed me," you whisper, hooking your ankles together behind his back. "Breed me, husband, I need you to breed me."

He stutters as he fucks you harder, digging deep into you, finding your spot, and staying on it as your moans rise.

"Pero, oh, God, please don't stop!"

He lets you cum first, fucks you through it before driving himself as deep as he can, then staying there. You whimper his name, your cunt convulses, and you can barely breathe, but Pero stays where he is.

"Take it," he soothes you through clenched teeth. "Take it, wife, every last drop, and grow me a baby."

"I love you," you manage to whisper, the words drowning in his mouth when he kisses you.

"And I love you."

Dinner is forgotten, as are the chickens and the horse. Pero slumbers in your arms but wakes up when you take his soft cock in your mouth. You rest together, until he has to be inside you again. Not until dusk settles around the house do you rise to take in and feed the chickens. Pero takes care of the horse, and you prepare dinner. He comes in and finds you by the workbench, cutting up cheese and smoked meat, and immediately cages you against the bench, arms sneaking around your waist as he kisses your neck.

"Pero, I'm holding a knife," you smile, and he immediately closes his hand over yours, guiding it to put the knife down. You hear his stomach growl, and know that if you are hungry, he must be starving.

"Dinner is almost ready."

"Only hungry for you, my love..."

You turn your face to his and receive his kisses, sighing softly at his roaming hands, one finding your breast only covered by your camisole, the other cupping your mound through the fabric of the underskirt. Your cunt weeps to have him again, while stinging from overstimulation. You lost count of how many times you have taken him this afternoon.

"Pero," you whisper between the kisses, your hands finding his and pressing down, in direct opposition to your words. "We need to eat, and you need a bath."

He expresses his discontent with a guttural grunt but gives you one last kiss and squeeze before releasing you.

"Sit down," you gesture towards the table, but he lays out cutlery, plates, and knives for both of you before taking his seat. When you bring the tray of foods to the table, he does not take his eyes off you. You feel the heat rise in your cheeks because you know exactly what he is thinking when he sees your soft breasts spill out of your camisole, the roundness of your ass underneath the threadbare skirt when you bend over to pour him ale. He smirks at you when you catch his gaze, and you shove him gently with your hip.

"Eat."

You take your seat on the other side of the table and eat in a comfortable silence as darkness descends outside. The sounds of your small town die down, only the occasional call of an animal drifting in through the open window together with the cool breeze.

You clear the table afterwards, Pero watching you in quiet contentment. When brushing past him, he cannot keep his hands to himself, but slaps your ass and grins when you yelp and turn around to tell him off. You find yourself pulled down onto his lap instead, Pero nuzzling your neck as he holds you close.

"Thank you for the meal."

"You are very welcome."

His whiskers scratch your sensitive skin, sending shivers down your spine. He kisses your neck, your shoulder, drags his lips down to your breasts while his hand gathers the fabric of your skirt so that he can slip underneath. His fingers find the messy apex of your thighs, his seed and your slick drying on your lips, and when he pushes his fingers inside you, your head falls back as you moan low in your throat.

"Pero... oh, oh, there, oh my God... I can't..."

"If you're too sore, tell me, and I will stop," he whispers hotly against your nipple before sucking it into his mouth. You shake your head, a sob of abandon slipping you.

"More, my love, more."

He brings you to the edge with his fingers, skilfully and quickly, before pushing you over it, catching you in his strong arms when you fall with a wail against his chest.

"Beautiful," he murmurs as he strokes your back, "so beautiful, my pretty girl..."

The night comes on, and Pero brings in water that you warm on the stove, for him to finally pour into the tub where you have spread out dried herbs and flowers. When he sinks down into the warm water, you take a sponge and a piece of scented soap and scrub every inch of him. He relaxes into the water, eyes finally falling shut, as you rub his body down with small, round circles. He leans into your touch with a sigh filled with gratitude and love. Pero is a man who desperately needs softness in his life, the life he always thought would be cut short due to his choice of profession. No wonder he has such a strong need to have children, see part of himself in a tiny face, foster a new generation to carry on his name after he is gone. And you desperately want to give him that.

"Pero," you speak quietly, getting a hum in return. "What if I cannot bear children?"

He does not react at first, but as soon as your words make sense to him, he turns his head to look at you.

"Why would you say that?"

"We have tried, and I'm not pregnant."

"We haven't been married for a year."

"For some, it takes immediately."

"Not for all."

The open window brings in the scents of your garden: evening primrose, wisteria, moonflower, jasmine, and whiffs of herbs rises from the water to meet them. You cast your eyes down to the soap in your hands, and Pero raises a hand from the water, and gently places it on your shoulder.

"My love. We have time."

You nod, knowing he is right. But you still cannot shake the feeling that you have carried around since he left, and your monthly cleansing arrived.

"The wives in town say things."

"What do they say?"

You wet your lips and raise your gaze to meet his. "They say that men who sleep with whores during their trips soil their seed."

Pero's face remains calm and honest. "I have not as much as looked at another woman since I met you. I hope you know that."

"I do, I just..." You shake your head, unsure why you even brought it up. You have never doubted his faithfulness. "I'm sorry. Their words ring in my ears, I can't stop thinking about it."

"Why do you even listen to those old hags?" he shakes his head.

"Because I meet them every day, and they talk, and they know things, and they look at me like I'm a prized cow, all of them waiting for me to become pregnant."

"It's none of their business," Pero scoffs, but his thumb is rubbing soothing circles on your shoulder.

"They also say... that older women are less fertile."

"You are fertile," he immediately dismisses your fear and self-doubt. "You still bleed."

"But if I'm too old?"

Pero sits up straight in the tub, the other hand coming to your other shoulder as he looks into your eyes.

"You are my wife and my love. I want us to have children, but if we for some reason are not to be blessed with them, my love for you will not change."

"I know," you smile softly, "and I will love you too." Tears rise in your eyes, and you wipe at them with the back of your hand. "Forgive me. I just missed you so much."

"You have nothing to apologize for, my love."

You lean forward to kiss him, but when his lips start to trail across your cheek, you giggle and shake your head.

"You, Pero Tovar, need a shave, or you'll grate me raw!"

He stays completely still as you trace his cheeks with the razorblade, eyes under heavy eyelids following your minuscule movements. The hint of a smile plays in the corner of his mouth as he enjoys how your steady hand shaves away the itchy bristles. Finally, you trim his moustache, then his hair. The water grows cool, and he rises from the tub, accepting your hand when he steps out of it. His cock is striving proudly towards his stomach, and he does not take the time to dry himself before lifting you up and carrying you to the bedroom. He sets you down next to the bed and cradles your head in his big hands.

"How do you want me, my beloved?"

You caress his smooth cheeks, stroke your thumbs over his eyebrows, still wet from the bath.

"From behind, husband. I want you to mount me like an animal."

"Your wish is my command."

His hands drop to your shoulders, where they guide you to turn around before caressing down the straps of your camisole. You undo the lacing in the front, and the neckline widens enough to drop and expose your breasts. He cups them from behind, thumbs brushing over stiffening nipples, soft lips peppering kisses all over your neck and shoulder. His cock strains against the fabric of your skirt, and he drops his hands to your hips, finding the laces that will free you from the garment. It rustles softly as it falls to the floor, and Pero's hard cock comes to a rest between your ass cheeks. Your cunt clenches and you can smell your own arousal.

"Take me," you breathe, but Pero grazes your shoulder with his teeth.

"I need to service you first."

He kneels behind you, one hand pushing lightly on your lower back. You bend over, upper body coming to a rest on the crumpled sheets. Pero's hand slowly slides down to your ass, cupping and squeezing, before he slides his fingers between your thighs, carefully pushing your legs open. He fingers you almost thoughtfully before you feel the tip of his sharp nose, and his hot breath on you, and then his lips close around your bud in a little kiss before his tongue takes over. He licks at you, into you, hands coming to grab your soft thighs, humming into your aching cunt. You can barely take it anymore, not after the pleasures of the afternoon, but your husband's touch always makes you need more. Like a bitch in heat, you egg him on, writhe and fist your hands into the sheet, loudly moaning without any thought of the neighbours. He brings you to bliss, once again, pushing his face against you, fingers digging painfully into your ass cheeks as you shake through your orgasm. He helps you up on the bed, letting you rest on your belly, and kisses your shoulders, back, and the soft curves of your buttocks before coming back up to steal your breath away with a wet kiss.

"My beautiful wife," he murmurs, and you smile back faintly. "Can you take me?"

"You know I can," you murmur, already feeling his rock-hard cock pressing in between your thighs. "Take me, husband. Breed me. Put a baby in my belly."

He growls at that, bites your neck, pulls your ass up, and legs together before straddling them. You whine when he pushes into you, your dripping yet sore cunt protesting and welcoming at the same time.

"So wet for me," he groans as he slowly moves in you, hands on your hips. "My love, I thought about this so often during those lonely nights on the road." He sinks deep into you. "I would fuck my own hand and think of you." He thrusts his hips into yours, making you choke on your own breath. "I would spill my seed on the ground and mourn its loss. It shouldn't be wasted but find its way into your fertile womb..."

He lays down over you, pressing your hips down with his as he wraps his arms around you and whispers in your ear: "I would think of you becoming round with my child, your tits filling with milk, how proud and beautiful you would look on my arm when we go to the marketplace together. How I would fuck you every night to make sure the child grows big and strong..."

You sob with desire, delirious from his words and the way he fills you up. All you can do is wrap your own arms around his, take his cock with your encouraging whimpers, and let him kiss what breath you still have away.

He takes his time fucking you slowly, his warm body growing hot from the effort, hips grinding into you so deep that you'll surely be bruised in the morning, all the while whispering filthy things in your ear, keeping you on the brink of insanity until you find yourself cumming yet again, and this time the tears come as well, it's all too much and still not enough, you want all of him in you, and you want him to fill your womb, you need it.

"My good wife," he praises you for climaxing, "Cumming on my cock like that, preparing your wet little cunt for my seed. Take it, my love, take it, I don't have long."

"Breed me," you manage to articulate, "put a baby in my belly, Pero, I love you, now breed me, fuck me like an animal and make me pregnant!"

He growls into your ear and props himself up onto one forearm before heeding your wish. You cry out when he drives himself into you, again and again, until you feel the wet heat spill inside you. A low, rumbling growl rises from deep within him, and he thrusts into you, all the way in, as deep as he can go, and stays there, panting heavily. You can hardly take it, you're too full, but you still push back as if he could go any deeper, and you squeeze him tightly to get every last drop out of him.

He finally collapses by your side, cock slipping out, one arm and leg thrown over you. Silence descends over your wheezing, sweaty bodies - yours slick from his perspiration. Finally, Pero groans, and kisses your shoulder.

"Are you still in one piece, my love?"

"Barely," you murmur, exhausted and deeply in love.

"Will you let me tuck you in?"

You gripe but shift so that Pero can pull away the covers. Your head hits the pillow with a deep sigh that changes to a yelp when Pero slaps your ass.

"Move. You've been sleeping alone for too long, you have started to take up too much space."

You scoot over to one side, and Pero gets in behind you. Moulding himself to you, he kisses your shoulder again.

"If I get pregnant, I'll get fat and take up even more space," you point out with a yawn.

"When you get pregnant, I'll worship every inch of your beautiful body, wife," he promises you. "Now, legs together. Don't want my seed to stain anything but your thighs."

Your hand finds his under the covers.

"I'm so glad you're home."

"I'm very glad to be home."

His hand comes to a rest on your lower abdomen, spreading a faint tingle deep inside. You smile to yourself, and then sleep claims you.

#pero tovar #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar fanfic #the great wall fanfic #my fic

[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

[brandyllyn]

Sinners

Pero Tovar x f!reader

Summary: "I do not understand you, Pero Tovar. Or this… whatever this is. But I will not give something that cannot be returned." Words: 8.4k

My Masterlist

Rated: Explicit Warnings: pining. talk of adultery (no one actually commits it). a lot of reference to vaguely Catholic religion on reader’s part. smut. 

This one is @pedropascalsx​​ ‘s fault. She attacked me without warning. Don’t let her convince you otherwise.

He was too handsome, that was your first thought.

Well, not your first. When he had arrived in town he had looked like one of the roving monsters from the tales of your childhood - teeth flashing from behind a scraggly mess of a beard. You had quickly stepped out of his line of sight; peering from around the corner of a crofter’s cottage as he rode by, his companion’s horse trailing just behind him. They were obviously only passing through, likely stopping for supplies before moving on.

But they hadn’t.

Instead they had taken up residence on the south end of the village, a lop-sided building that had stood empty since the elderly couple who lived there had passed, their son long lost to war.

The man had stalked the town for nearly a week, speaking with locals and buying supplies. Stores were low this late in the winter but summer was just around the corner and with the promise of new crops the villagers were more than willing to sell the last of the foods that had seen them through the cold months. You had avoided him the entire time, his angry visage and large frame enough to send you quickly in the opposite direction.

How quickly you had proven shallow.

When he walked through the village a sennight later, on his way to the smithy, freshly shaven and his hair cut into neat curls at the base of his neck, your heart had skipped a beat. His lips were full, and the chin you had assumed weak was instead perfectly framed by a strong jaw. Even the scar over his eye only highlighted the angular jut of his cheekbones.

He was beautiful.

And married.

Who else could the woman be who had arrived with him? Who shared his home in the one room cottage? They were not related - her features reflected far-distant lands - and she treated him with a familiarity borne only from shared experience.

She was a lucky woman.

The Holy texts only mentioned coveting of thy neighbor’s wife, yet surely coveting her husband was equally damnable in the eyes of the Lord. But you couldn’t seem to help drifting by the forge a few times during the next week. Nor could you resist letting your eyes settle on the muscles of his back as they strained under the weight of the hammer he was lifting with trained precision.

Envy was a sin. But surely it could not be a sin to look?

You did not ask, you knew what the answer was. 

And yet…

And yet you found yourself altering your route to the forest, eyes darting to the smithy in the hopes of catching a glimpse of him. In the bracken woods your fingers moved without conscious thought, your mind elsewhere as you imagined what it might be like to share the small cottage with him. And at night, you bit your teeth into the meaty part of your palm to muffle the your own fingers and thoughts of him were drawing from you.

It was a sin, you knew that. But then again, you’d always known you were a sinner.

Pero Tovar had spent his life in battle. He knew the whistle of an arrow as it passed his ear and the precise noise a knife made as it parted flesh. He could identify the craftsmanship of a blade whether it was from the Far East or the wilds below the sands of the Sahara. He knew the moment to strike, and more importantly when to hold his own counsel - when to fight and when to run.

And he knew when he was being watched.

The woman made no attempt to hide it, darting glances at him from behind long eyelashes. At first he’d bristled at the attention, waiting for the sneering comments or sharp gestures that were sure to follow. But they never came. Day after day he saw her, more and more often, once even caught her staring at him from afar with her lips slightly parted, her basket of herbs loose in her grip.

Wiping the sweat from his brow with one hand he’d nearly called out to her, scolded her for her inhospitality and rudeness. But her gaze had fallen to his bare arms, her lips parting even further and he’d flexed for her almost unconsciously. Even from meters away he could see her sudden swallow, nearly hear her gasp as she quickly turned her back on him and all but ran into the woods.

Humming thoughtfully, Pero traded his large working mallet for one of the smaller hammers, ignoring the sparks that flew as he repaired the tines on a pitchfork. He had assumed the local healer was only wary of him - many in the village gave him a wide berth and he did not blame them. But he knew that look in a woman’s eye - could clock the rise and fall of a bosom as easily as he could the footfall of an assassin.

She wanted him.

After that he began to work shirtless more often, using only the leather aprons for cover, making a point of stretching and reaching whenever he caught the movement of her in the corner of his vision. He did not acknowledge her staring - she would likely faint and he was enjoying the attention too much to see it come to an end.

It was nice, to be wanted, even knowing that he was still not worthy of her. Nor was he free to pursue her. Lin Mae had his presence as protection from the villagers. And while it seemed unlikely they would turn on her, he had promised William when they left that he would protect the man’s love with his life if needed. The least he could do was give her the protection of his name.

It hadn’t seemed like such a large ask, when it was made. But now his fingers itched to reach for another. To draw someone else into his arms. He did not deserve her, had no chance with her, but was it not the penance of those damned to dream of what they could not have?

The first day he changed his schedule he missed her entirely. The second he found himself arriving at the smithy just as she appeared around the far corner. It took him four tries, in fact, to time his short journey so that they rounded a corner at the same time, nearly running into one another.

"Oh!" she let out a short yelp and stumbled backwards and he reached a hand out to steady her under one elbow.

"Pardon," he tried not to think of how smooth her skin felt.

They walked to the smithy in silence, the light scent of honeysuckle drifting up from her hair. It stayed in his nose the rest of the day, teasing his senses and making his blood thump loudly in his ears.

The next day he did not scare her, in fact he was nearly certain she had timed her arrival as well, falling into step beside him without a word. They did not touch, not even a brush of her arm against his. And at the forge he left her without so much as a goodbye - ignoring the urge to look back and see if she watched after him. If her eyes traced over him the way his hands longed to trace over her. To wrap his fingers around the back of her neck and-

No, those thoughts were for the nights. Laying on his pallet near the fire, one hand stacked behind his head and the other around his cock. In the darkness he could pretend he was another man - one free to court her and touch her. To find out what his name might sound like when it fell from her lips on a sigh of pure pleasure. A man she might choose.

He was doing it on purpose.

At first you had thought he was confronting you. Lying in wait for you to leave your home so he could scold you for your licentious behavior. But he hadn’t said a word

Nor did he say one the next day when you met in the small clearing between your cottages, walking side by side until you parted ways behind the smithy. On the third day you didn’t even need to go to the woods, it was a day for brewing and drying. But you went anyway, walking near to the silent man and gathering kindling before making your way back.

It was impossible that no one would notice.

No one said anything to you, not directly. You were the best healer for leagues in any direction and they would turn a blind eye to any multitude of transgressions before dismissing you. But you did see the Master Smith giving him what looked like a stern lecture one day, both men’s eyes following you as you fetched water from the stream. 

The next day he was not there and you sighed as you skirted the edge of the smithy, sighing louder when he was not there. It had been a short fantasy, and not an unproblematic one. You would do well to remember that he was spoken for - and that anything beyond mere companionship was not fated.

But then he spoke to you. Catching up with you one morning as though he had never missed a day.

"Morrow to you."

"Morrow," you mumbled, trying not to stumble. His voice was gravelly and deep, exactly as you had expected it to be.

"The Master Smith says you have a salve for burns," he continued. "I do not believe it is serious but-"

You stopped in your tracks, turning to him and scanning what of him you could see with a trained eye. "Show me."

Sighing, he pushed one sleeve up, revealing blistered red flesh high on his forearm. You held back a gasp, reaching out with one hand to grip above his elbow. "This will scar," you told him with a frown. His lips twitched and you realized suddenly that he was covered in them. Thick and thin, burns and cuts. 

"I would hate to add another," he said dryly.

Biting back your own smile you prodded lightly at the edge of the burn, listening to the quick hiss of his breath. "It will need to be covered, come with me."

You didn’t wait to see if he followed, your cottage was not far and he was welcome to make the decision for himself. But a moment later you heard him fall into step beside you. He even held your own door open, only ducking inside once you had and leaving it slightly ajar so that any passers-by would be able to see what was happening. A courtesy you had not expected.

"Sit," you ordered, pointing at a low stool. He did not argue, sinking onto it and resting his arm on your table. You gathered your supplies quickly, a jar and a stack of clean bandages.

"When did this happen?" you asked as you set the items near him, slowly rolling the edge of his sleeve past the wound.

"Two days ago, I was… distracted."

You didn’t ask why, spooning a generous amount from the jar and gently spreading it on the burn. When you returned with a second you saw his nostrils flare, one eyebrow rising.

"Is that… honey?"

"It is an old cure," you shrugged, carefully covering the edges, "and one that has long stood the test of time." Picking up the bandages you motioned for him to hold his arm from the table. "Besides, it might help to make your disposition a bit sweeter."

Sweet Jesu had you really just said that?

A snort left him and he turned to more fully face you, eyes meeting yours. "I’m not certain you have enough for that."

"I shall have to save it for myself," you demurred, tucking the edge of the bandage under and patting it softly.

"Are you so bitter?"

"Not bitter," you laughed softly, once again gathering your supplies. "Only…" 

This man was a stranger to you. And while you might like the look of his face and admire his fine thighs, he was not your confidante.

"Not bitter," you said again, more firmly this time. Wiping your hands you felt the small tug of the cloth against your finger and raised it to your lips without thinking, sucking the small bit of honey from your flesh. "Is there-"

His eyes were locked on your lips, on the hand still hovering near them. When had it gotten warm in your cottage? When had he stood up? Gotten so close? You had to lean back to look into his eyes, his chest was practically touching yours, a soft growl rumbling from deep within him. You felt an answering purr rise in your own - something soft in your reacting to his nearness.

Then he shook his head suddenly and stepped away. "Apologies, I did not mean to overstep."

Could he hear your heartbeat? You could. And the way he was looking at you…

"It is no matter," you waved a hand uselessly in the air. "We were finished unless there is something else I can help you with?"

"What is my debt?"

You waved a hand again, "For this? It is nothing."

"It is not nothing," he insisted. "Do not sell yourself so cheaply."

"I do not sell myself at all," you pointed out, carefully stepping away to place the honey back on its shelf. "People help me when they can, if you really must insist there is wood behind the house that could stand being chopped and brought in."

He nodded and strode out the door and you let out a breath. That had been far too close for comfort. If he hadn’t stepped away… would you have? You liked to think he would but the smell of salt and smoke that clung to his clothes made your head spin.

A loud noise cut through the air and you frowned, following his path outside and crossing your arms when you saw him. 

"I didn’t mean now."

He shrugged and set up another log, swinging the ax high over his head and bringing it down with a solid thunk. "It is a task that needs doing, no?"

"It is," you waited for him to bring the ax down again before continuing, "but I certainly had no expectation you would do it right after being treated."

"It does not interfere," he pointed out. 

"I will not treat it again," you scolded softly. 

A smile lifted the corner of his mouth and you noticed he had a dimple on his right cheek. Why did he have to be so handsome?

"Perhaps if I find some honey you will be sweeter to me."

I am far too sweet for you already, you thought with a sigh, turning your head before he could see how flustered he made you.

Ignoring the fact that you had been headed to the forest before being sidetracked, you pulled your largest kettles into the clearing beside your home and began to set fires beneath them. The sound of chopping wood kept you company as you set the fine sticks of wood carefully under them and grabbed your bucket. You were halfway back from the stream when he caught you, taking the pail with a scolding murmur and taking two back with him. While he fetched the water you carefully minced herbs, dropping them into the water and striking stone to steel to create a fire beneath.

You spent the remainder of the morning tending the pots, carefully judging the smells, consistency, and colors of each. Illness always came with the spring, people being in too much of a hurry to enjoy the weather to take proper precautions, and you wanted to be ready.

At midday you tried to stop Pero, offering him a hunk of bread and cheese and pointing out the amount of wood he had chopped far exceeded to small amount of care you had given him. He’d grunted at that, taking the proffered food and shoving it in his mouth. Then he had pulled his shirt off and gone back to work, leaving you agape and trying not to stare.

He was too handsome for his own good.

It wasn’t fair of him and he knew it. But then again, what mattered was who won the war, not how honorably they fought.

He knew he was tempting her to sin with a married man. And he would feel worse about that if he was in fact married. But he wasn’t - and the way her breath hitched in her throat every time he stretched and moved made his lungs near burst with pride.

Swiping a hand across his chest he shook his head, feeling droplets of sweat spray from the hanging ends of his too-long hair. He’d been working in the sun for her for hours now, chopping what had to be a half cord of wood and stacking it neatly both inside and outside the cottage. No matter what he did she seemed to be nearby, finding tasks that kept him in her line of sight.

Could he tempt her down to the stream? There was a small, shallow pool there - barely as high as his waist. But if he could get her in it… no, she still was as fresh and clean as she had been this morning - keeping to the shade even as he sweat in the sun. Well, he always had a backup plan.

"You have another pail?"

Her head jerked up and she tilted her head to the side without seeming to think about it. He took the proffered object, heading to the river and bringing it the entire way back before dumping it over his head.

"Ah, that is better," he said, shaking his hair out.

She was staring again. Hands clenching and unclenching around the small paring knife. He took a careful step closer to her, watching the ways her eyes tracked his movements and her chest rose and fell in rapid breathing.

"Is there more I can do?"

A confused noise left her and he bit back a smile, moving closer until she tilted her head up to look at him.

"I see how you watch me." Her head shook in a frantic denial and he stopped her with a finger under her chin.

"I do not," she tried but he raised one eyebrow and she quickly silenced. A long moment stretched between them and her shoulders dropped. "I should not."

"No?" he asked, tilting his head. "And do you think I do not also watch you?"

Her lips parted and he took advantage, ducking his head and pressing his own to them. A soft noise left her and he swallowed it, gathering her into his arms and deepening the kiss. She made no protest, her hands clutching at his shoulders and her lips parting even further for him when he dipped his tongue inside.

Without thinking about it he backed her up until he had her pressed to the stones of her cottage, reaching down and hitching one of her thighs around his waist. She fit him perfectly, the hard planes of his body sinking instantly into the soft curves of hers.

"We can’t," she whispered.

"We must," he countered.

She tasted of herbs, rosemary she had chewed that morning and bits of things that clung to her skin after her day’s work. His hands gripped at her hips, her thigh, the dip of her waist and the curve of her ass. He couldn’t get enough of her.

But when she shoved at his shoulders he stepped away. He had never taken a woman unwillingly. Convinced, wheedled, paid - even once long ago had quite nearly begged - but never forced.

"You are married," she bit out, one hand pressing to her chest.

"An inconvenience," he told her truthfully. "We are together only in the eyes of man, not God."

Her eyebrows drew together, "What does that even mean?"

How could he explain and still keep his oath to William? He was treading a fine line already. "It means I have never lain with her. Nor do I plan to."

"I don’t understand," she shook her head and when he went to step closer she held her hand between them. "I do not understand you, Pero Tovar. Or this… whatever this is. But I will not give something that cannot be returned."

"And if it were?"

She closed her eyes, hand wavering, and he took his opportunity. Were this a battlefield he would have sliced her tendons at the knee and downed her from one heartbeat to the next. Instead, he pulled her into his arms again, dipping his head and nibbling at the soft column of her throat.

"Do you want me?"

"It is a sin," she sighed, but tilted her head to give him more access.

"Lying is a sin," he pointed out, scraping his teeth along the flesh she offered. "Do you?"

"I shouldn’t."

"Do you?"

Someone called her name and Pero swore, stepping away from her quickly and jerking his shirt from the ground. He would not see her shamed in the eyes of the village.

"We are not finished," he told her solemnly.

That man was a menace.

He continued to meet you on your walks into the woods - and even on the days you varied your routine he managed to find you at some point. Falling into step beside you and brushing your shoulder with his. Twice, when no one was around, he tried to tug you into shadowed corners. The glint in his eye giving away what he wanted.

You were only flesh.

Flesh that was weak where he was concerned. Arms wrapping fiercely around his neck even as you cursed yourself for it. You went willingly, allowing him a few stolen kisses before breaking away. He always asked the same question, "Do you want me?" and you always avoided it.

You dreaded to think what might happen if he knew it for certainty.

Even now, settled in his lap beneath the span of a large oak tree, his lips repeated the words into the tendons of your neck. But he said it as a statement, his hand slipping under your skirt and palming the skin of your thighs in rough strokes.

"You want me."

"It doesn’t matter what I want," you told him for perhaps the hundredth time.

He bit you and you yelped, pushing hard on his shoulders and glaring. He was glaring right back, his lower lip protruding in an uncharacteristic pout. You ignored it, climbing to your feet and swatting his hands away when he tried to pull you back down.

"You have to stop this."

"I do not wish to," he grumbled, leaning back on one hand and looking up at you from lowered lids. He looked positively pagan, sprawled among the early spring flowers like some sort of god.

"The weather is changing and with it the markets will begin again. I will find someone else."

He moved so fast you didn’t even see him, a blur of motion and he was in front of you, grasping your arms in a strong grip. "You are mine."

"I am not," you gritted out, trying to shrug him off to no avail. "What can you offer me except heartbreak?"

"I would offer you everything," he said quietly, ducking his head to force you to meet his eyes. They were earnest, soft and brown and it took all of your will not to sway to him.

"Everything but your hand."

"Even that," he cracked a small smile. "I have two."

"That’s not funny," you growled, finally moving away.

"I found it a small amusement," he huffed.

"Tovar…"

"Pero," he corrected.

"Tovar," you said more forcefully. "The spring festival is at the next full moon. I intend to make my intention known that I seek a husband."

A snarl curled his lips and you took an unconscious step back. One hand clenched at his side as though he might find a weapon there. "You will not."

"I will," you corrected. "And you should gather peonies for your wife."

"Peonies? I do not understand"

"You don’t… I suppose maybe it is not your custom." You bent and picked up your basket, "During the festival, couples will exchange the flowers - to show their love. At nightfall, all of the unmarried townsfolk will take to the woods hoping to find their own." A thought came over you and you waved a hand, trying not to look flustered, "Many return together."

He hummed thoughtfully, holding a hand out to you to help you step over a large tree root. "And I should gather these flowers for my love, yes?"

You nodded, swallowing past a knot of emotion. "I will not tell you this has not been… fun. But it is over now. It must be."

Humming again he guided you back to the path. "And you are certain that this is what you wish? You will find your husband during the festival?"

A small laugh escaped you and you shook your head. "I intend only to find the flowers, to make it known I wish to find someone."

"So there is no one else?" The answer fell from his lips with a more plaintive tone than he seemed to want, frowning to himself after he finished.

"How could there be?" You brushed past him, swinging your basket, "I already spend half my day in confession because of you."

A low growl caught in his throat and he grabbed you, pulling you back to his body and once again taking your lips. You let him, conscious that your time with him was drawing to a close. And besides, you were already going to have to confess that morning’s indiscretion - what was one more?

The setting sun bathed the village in warm glowing light, making the women look ethereal as they danced around the large pole in the village square - but Pero’s eyes sought only one. By his side, Lin Mae smiled and spoke with one of the local farmer’s wives - comparing the soil and harvest months. She had notes in that strange writing of hers, ideas for things she and William might grow when he returned from his journey.

"Does my husband grow bored of me so quickly?"

Pero blinked and glanced down at her, raising an eyebrow and scowling. She smiled in return, tucking a piece of jet black air behind her ear. "It is strange, the gossip, and how many women of the village want me to know your eyes have strayed."

"They should mind their own business," he grunted, finally spying who he wanted through the crowd. Her eyes shone in the firelight, the orange glow making the simple white shift she wore seem to come alive around her as she danced with several other women.

"They think they are protecting me," Lin Mae shrugged, taking a sip of her drink. "They were properly disgusted at your behavior."

He grunted again, not bothering to give her words. The woman who held all of his attention was braiding flowers into another’s hair - fingers working quickly.

"I don’t suppose I could make you pretend that you are not pining for her this eve, could I?"

"Small chance," he said truthfully, sipping his drink and never taking his eyes off of her.

"They are getting ready for their ceremony," Lin Mae said, shifting her stance slightly. "Perhaps I am growing too tired to stay out."

Frowning, Pero glanced down at the former Commander of the Crane Troop. "Are you well?"

"Perhaps my husband should take me home, so we may both retire for the evening. That way, if he disappeared into the woods later no one would note it."

He finally turned his full attention to her, "You are a brilliant woman, much smarter than your husband."

She winked and he held an arm out, studiously avoiding looking back at the revelers as he led her away from the fires. They returned the shouted greetings from a few people and he held the door to their shared quarters for her when they arrived.

"Is there anything-"

"Go, Pero Tovar," Lin Mae smiled, settling by the fire and patting a hand over her stomach. "I will be fine for the evening."

He did not need to be told twice, going out the back door and circling around the forest to watch the festival. An old man stood by the fire, hands held high in the air and saying something he couldn’t hear. Near him, two groups of men and women giggled and chatted amongst themselves. Blushing and elbowing as they looked towards the other group.

The man’s hands came down and the women sprinted into the forest, although Pero noticed many did not seem to be in a particular hurry. He slipped into the forest behind them easily, padding on soft feet and slinking through the trees like a wraith. He found his quarry easily, her lilting laugh all he needed to zero in on her. With casual competence he brought down two men who sought to follow her, leaving them in slumped piles to be found in the morning. Soon she had outpaced the other maidens, either through swiftness of foot or perhaps their own desire to be caught. It didn’t matter to Pero.

Moonlight bathed the glen in pale light and he slowed to a careful stop. He had arrived before her and he did not pause before plucking several of the prizes before  ducking behind the old oak tree and watching for her. It was not long before she entered, laughing to herself and throwing her head back to stare at the moon before dropping to her knees. The beautiful petals of the flowers were almost black in the silvery light, her hands cupping them as though they were the most precious thing. But that could not be right, because she was there and there could be nothing more precious.

He watched as she carefully picked three of the blossoms, cradling them tightly before rising to her feet and turning back to the forest. Back towards him. He could no more have plucked the moon from the sky than he could have stopped himself from reaching out. Catching her wrist in one hand, pulling her back to his chest and dropping his other to press low on her stomach. She gasped in shock and he nuzzled his face into her neck, nipping at her earlobe with his teeth.

"Careful, one might think you wished to be caught."

The tenseness flowed from her and her body melted back against him. He groaned with it, crossing his arm over her chest and feeling the petals in her fingers crush under their combined grip. Slowly, he released his own hand, letting the flowers he had gathered fall and mix with hers.

"I have done what you said, I have gathered these for my love."

"Pero…"

His body lurched at the sound of his name on her lips. Sucking a bruising kiss to her neck he tried to turn her, growling when she resisted. Instead he let her wrist go to grip her chin, jerking her face towards him and thrusting his tongue past her lips. He met no resistance there, the soft give and take of her mouth and the low moan in her throat enough to set his blood thrumming through his veins. Her fingertips gripped his forearms and he tightened his hold.

"Lay with me," he groaned, dragging his lips across her cheek, dipping his tongue behind her ear. "Let me make you mine."

A shudder wracked her frame and he paused, this time meeting no hesitancy when he spun her to face him. "What is it?

"You will always belong to another," she whispered quietly, pain tinging her voice. With the greatest care he cupped her jaw in one of his palms, brushing his thumb over the apple of her cheek. 

"I belong to no one," he told her, willing her to look into his eyes. "Except perhaps to you."

Another shaky breath and her eyes squeezed closed. "Tovar-"

"Pero," he corrected quickly, pressing his lips to the lip of her nose. "If you are to hold my heart you must call me by my given name."

"How can you say these things?" she chided softly.

He should tell her, should have from the start. Tell her that in the eye of the Lord he was free, that the only sin between them was lust. But she would not believe him. Hell, he wouldn’t believe him. Not here, not like this. Not knowing the things a man might say to have a woman in his arms.

"All I can ask is that you trust me," he whispered. Stooping down he plucked one of the round flowers into his hands, holding it out to her in his cupped palm. He waited, holding his breath until she took it with shaking fingers.

"And when we are damned?"

"Then we will burn together."

This time when their mouths met he felt no hesitancy, her arms coming up and fingers threading through the hairs on the back of his neck. He shuddered in her embrace, pulling her close and falling to his knees on the soft mossy ground. His hands shoved at the cloth of her skirt, pushing it upwards as she sank into his lap, her knees on either side of his thighs. The moon behind her cast her in a soft, silvery aura and he paused to admire her beauty.

With careful fingers he slipped the sleeves of her dress from her shoulders, watching them fall until the shift caught in the crook of her elbows and on the swells of her breast. From her position above him it was an easy thing to lean forward and catch it with his teeth, pulling downwards and exposing her soft flesh inch by inch. He heard the hitch in her breath when her pebbled nipples were bared to the cool night air. And he felt the way her body trembled when he curled his tongue around the hardened nub and sucked it deep into his mouth.

His name fell like a prayer between them and even if he were what she thought he was - there was no world in which this was a sin. No world in which holding the trembling figure in his arms was anything less than worship.

"Pero," she cried again, her hips rocking in his lap and his control snapped. He reached between their bodies, fumbling with the buttons on his trousers.

"You know the herbs?" he asked, breathless and frantic.

She nodded, hands working between them as well. Groaning he shoved her fingers to the side, lining his cock up and sinking the head of himself into her. "You will tell me if it is too much?"

"Pero please," she begged and he lost himself, plunging forward until he was seated fully inside her. Her heat made him go cross-eyed, and the small cry that broke from her lips made him cup her face in his hands in worry. 

"Are you-?"

She lunged towards him, pressing him back down to the moss. They tumbled for a moment, legs tangling, her hips rocking into his. A deep curse left his lips and he steadied her with hands on her waist, looking up in awe as she rose to her knees over him, one hand pressed firmly to his chest and the other his waist.

"Fuck," he snarled, unable to take his eyes off of her. The white of her shift shone ethereal in the moonlight. This could not be a sin, for surely she was an angel sent down to redeem him. Her muscles bore down and he cursed again. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe she had been sent to damn him.

"Pero," she sighed, reaching for one of his hands and tangling their fingers together. "Please."

This he could do for her. Slip his hand beneath her skirt and find where they joined, rub his fingers in wide circles through her slick until she threw her head back and came around his cock. It was all he needed to follow, clutching her skin so hard he knew he’d leave bruises before hauling her down and into his arms.

Confession was going to be interesting this week.

Measuring the pennyroyal carefully, you added it to the other ingredients of the tea you were making. You had made it many times in the past for other women - but only once for yourself.

Then again, last night had been only the second time you’d ever lain with a man. The look in Pero’s eyes told you it was well on its way to also being the third and perhaps fourth before you were interrupted by a small group of giggling girls, barely old enough to participate in the festival, bursting into the clearing and exclaiming at the sight of the flowers. It had been almost gentlemanly, the way he had tried to shield you from their notice. But all it took was standing up for your clothes to be set to rights - he had to fix both his shirt and the fall of his trousers. 

Plenty of time for you to escape and join them.

It had been a mistake. A massive, soul-damning mistake. Adulteresses did not get to go to heaven. There was literally a whole commandment devoted to it - right between killing and stealing. That’s how important it was.

You’d be saying Hail Mary’s until you were old and gray to atone for this.

Sighing you wrapped your hands around your mug, taking the first sip and opening your front door to let in the morning air. The sight that met you froze you in your tracks however. Pero and his wife were arguing. Shame overcame you and you turned away before they could see you - but you couldn’t help but overhear their voices carrying.

"I am not fragile, Tovar, and will not have you treat me as such."

"I know as well as any man that you are as tough as forged iron." A strange way to talk to his wife, but then again he had been telling you for weeks theirs was a strange marriage.

"Then get out of my way."

"I will not have you harm the babe!"

The world stopped and you gasped, watching the mug tumble from your fingers, the dark liquid spilling across the dirt. Your head jerked up and Pero met your eyes. 

Of course that’s why he asked if you knew how to not conceive.

"Cariño…" his soft voice floated across the field and you stooped down quickly to pick up your mug. You would need to rebrew it - be sure you had taken enough. You were absolutely not going to have that man’s child.

Your pot had just started boiling when he stepped through your doorway. "It is not what you think."

"What I think?" Your voice had an edge of hysteria and you fought to keep calm. "What I think is that you left your pregnant wife at home to seduce me last night. Am I wrong?"

"I told you I have never lain with her."

You blinked, jerking backwards. The world seemed to come to a standstill. After a moment a strangled laugh left you. "Your wife sinned with another - so you sought to do the same?"

"It is not a sin," he growled, coming around your worktable in long strides. "This - you… it is not."

Saints above he was kissing you again, and as angry as you were your body betrayed you immediately. Sinking into his warmth and burying your fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck. With an ease that left you breathless he lifted you onto your table, shoving your skirts to your waist. The hard ridges of his body pressed between your thighs and you gasped.

"It is not a sin, cariño. To want an angel?" His hips rolled and you arched into his chest. "To take a piece of heaven for myself?"

"It is one of the first," you corrected him, gasping for breath and speaking the words directly into his mouth. "Is it not why Lucifer fell?"

"Fuck Lucifer," he growled in return, clutching your body closer. "He wanted power. I want only you."

Why, why did he have to say things like that? "Pero…"

"Say it again," he groaned, fingers working the fall of his trousers. "Say it while I am inside you."

You should protest. You absolutely should not be letting him swive you after everything else that you now knew. But he fit you so perfectly, and looked at you with such wonder in his eyes you couldn’t help it.

"Pero."

The words that left him were in a language you didn’t understand. Falling from his lips like a psalm and for just that moment you let yourself believe him. 

And when he slipped into your cottage that night, wrapping you in his arms and pressing your hand over his heart - you let yourself imagine a world where he was yours.

Pero’s shoulder brushed hers as they walked through the village. He wanted to wrap an arm around her waist, hold her close against the morning chill - but he knew that was impossible.

It had been amusing, at first, sneaking away into the forest. Going to her cottage in the middle of the night and having his way with her. And she with him. Once she was in his arms she showed a remarkable imagination and flexibility that often left him breathless in the aftermath.

But the secrecy was quickly growing old. He wanted to kiss her. Her eyes were bright and her skirts whipped around her legs as they walked into the wind, reminding him of how they felt wrapped around him only hours ago.

A leaf caught in her hair and he reached up with a smile, plucking it from the strands and touching it to the tip of her nose with a playful tap. She grinned in return and he felt his heart swell in his chest.

"It is shameful how they carry on."

Pero froze, his jaw tightening. For a moment he hoped she hadn’t heard.

"He’s a foreigner, probably an infidel, but she should know better."

Oh she’d definitely heard, her eyes widening as she took a step away from him.

"Cariño," he said softly, willing her to look at him. The leaf dropped from his fingers and he reached for her. But she was shaking her head frantically, her hands gripping her basket so hard he worried she would snap it.

"There always was something unnatural about her."

Pero’s vision went red and he turned, ready to confront the two gossiping women. Or kill them. He wasn’t sure which. They balked at the look on his face and he took a threatening step their direction before a hand on his elbow stopped him. Scowling, he looked down at her.

"They do not know what they say," he told her, trying to keep his voice level.

"They know exactly what they say," she corrected quietly, "and none of it is untrue."

The truth lay thick in Pero’s throat, the chance to say it long passed. William was not supposed to have been gone this long. Should have only been a fortnight behind them. Instead it had been nearly two months and Pero was beginning to grow worried something had happened to his friend.

"They question your honor."

"I know what I am," she said softly. "I know what I chose when I chose you."

Something lodged in the back of Pero’s throat. He had fought for everything, every chance he’d ever had. Even William and he had ended up together only by chance, joining the same merchant trip to the East. He had trained harder than anyone else, stolen what couldn’t be achieved, and paid coin for another’s favors. But no one had ever chosen him for him.

"Cariño," he took a step towards her and she stepped away.

"Not out here, I don’t want to give them more to talk about."

"Let them talk," he grunted, pulling her into his arms and tilting her face up to his with one finger. "I choose you as well."

"A second choice," she whispered and Pero’s blood thrummed through his veins.

"First," he corrected. "First and always."

"How can I be? You’re-"

He cut her off with a kiss, not caring who saw. Not caring the way it would look to others. She was his and he would claim her for all to see it. And he could not hear her say that word again, could not hear her denial of what he felt.

"Trust me," he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers. "That is all I can ask."

"With everything," she murmured back. Her spine was straight when she stepped out of his arms, ignoring the hushed mutterings that followed her as she left to the forest and he turned to the smithy. He contemplated scaring the women within an inch of their lives, his size and face more than enough, but it would only cause more problems.

The days were growing warmer and soon enough Pero had sweated through his shirt, tossing it to the side and covering himself only with his leather apron as he worked the metal. A few rings of his armor melted down, the most precious thing he had, now being reworked into a far different purpose.

"You can’t even pretend to make friends can you?"

Pero froze, closing his eyes a moment before turning.

"Tu hijo de puta."

William held his hands up, brows drawing together. "What did I do?"

"A couple of weeks, you said." Pero carefully set his finer tools down, reaching for one of his larger hammers as he approached his friend. "No time at all."

"Things were more complicated than-"

William dodged Pero’s casual swing, but dove straight into the man’s fist.

"That is for taking so long," Pero grunted, setting the tool to the side and shaking out his fingers. "Your head is as hard as ever."

Rubbing his cheek, William blinked at him. "Has Lin Mae been that difficult?"

"It is not…" Pero sighed, picking up his shirt. "Come, I will tell you on the way."

You took a different path through the forest than usual. You didn’t want Pero following you, although you knew he could easily track you if he wanted to. You need time to think, to come to terms with what you were doing.

It had been too much to hope, that no one would notice. It was a miracle that you had avoided the gossip as long as you had. And there would be no denying it, not after that kiss.

Your fingers touched your bottom lip for a moment and you sighed. Pero was a passionate man, and yet you had never seen him touch his wife the way he touched you. It heartened you, although it shouldn’t, that maybe he did feel more for you than he did her.

"Ave, María, grátia plena," you said quietly, stooping to pluck an herb. "Dóminus tecum."

No harm in getting in a few prayers before confession - you were bound to be given another dozen at a minimum for what had happened today.

At your cottage you set about preserving your stores. The rainy season would cause many things to rot if you did not dry them carefully now, hanging them from the rafters in bundles. You hummed as you worked, trying to ignore the events of the morning. There was nothing that could be done about it now.

A knock jerked you out of your thoughts and you glanced towards the window to check the time. It was early afternoon, and you were not expecting anyone. Certainly not the sight that greeted you when you opened the door.

"Pero?"

The man was standing there, arms overflowing with peonies of every color. He must have taken the entire field’s worth.

"Cariño," he said softly. "Quiéreme."

You gasped, covering your mouth with one hand. "What?"

"Love me," he repeated, offering the cascading bundle of flowers in his arm to you. There were so many that some fell to the ground as he moved, littering around your feet.

"I do," you smiled, a small wane thing. "You know I do."

"Marry me." You gasped and he dropped the blooms finally, not seeming to care as he crushed them and gathered you close. "Marry me, today. As soon as we are able."

"But you’re-"

"Do not say it," he growled, dipping his head and kissing you. "I will not hear you say it again. William."

William?

A cough interrupted your thought and you glanced over Pero’s shoulder to see a blonde man with his arm around Pero’s wife.

"I believe this is my fault," he said, nuzzling his nose into the woman’s hair and you noticed a bruise forming around one of his eyes. "This lovely woman is not Tovar’s wife, she is mine."

"What?" The word left you on a whisper, your mind unable to comprehend.

"I am not wed." Pero said it this time, tilting your head back so you looked into his eyes. "I never have been."

"Why did you-"

"Me again," the blonde called out. "Pero promised to look after her for me. This wasn’t exactly what I thought would happen but…" The woman at his side elbowed him and he gave you a sheepish smile.

"You are not married?"

"No."

"Then we…?"

"Have not sinned."

A giggle bubbled out of you and you smiled up at him. "I believe we have sinned many times."

His answering smile was dazzling. "A small thing, and one that can be absolved when you are my wife."

"Your wife?"

"Now," he punctuated the word with a kiss. "As soon as we can find the damned priest."

"Your friend is injured," you pointed out. 

"No more than he deserves," Pero griped.

"And the banns have not been read."

"I do not care if another seeks your hand, you are mine." He suddenly looked unsure. "Unless you do not want-"

You threw your arms around his neck, hugging him close. "I have two hands, Pero Tovar, and neither are claimed."

"I will take them both," he told you solemnly. "And make you mine."

"As you are mine."

Taglist:

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#pero tovar #great wall fanfiction #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x you #pero x reader #pero x you

[psychedelic-ink]

For the writing game darling - meet ugly + time travel + PERO ❤️ Thank you!

Thank you for requesting bby!!! I'm not sure if the meet was ugly enough, but hopefully you'll enjoy luv u ❤️❤️❤️ this could be way longer tbh but i stopped myself since it was meant to be a drabble lmaosvfd

𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓

pairing: pero tovar x fem!reader

genre: meet ugly + time travel, romance, a bit of angst

word count: 536

summary: Three times in Pero's lifetime, fate intertwined your paths. Once in his twenties, then in his thirties, and yet again in his forties, you were brought together, your lives intersecting in ways you couldn't predict.

i.

You just appear in front of him. Just like that. No warning. No puff of smoke. Pero was younger back then, a troublemaker. He was thrown out of the tavern, bat drunk, leaning against the dirty wall. 

Then he saw you. 

You just stood there, confused, shaking, wearing clothes he couldn't quite understand. He couldn't focus. One moment he was looking up at you, the second he was hurling, bile burning his throat as he crouched towards the ground. 

When he looked back up again you were gone. A cold wind blew. Your scent still lingered in the air. 

ii.

The next time Pero met you was ten years later. You’re looking less confused, more curious. You spotted him through the busy street and waved. Pero raised an eyebrow. His suspicion grew. His first instinct was to move away and disappear from your eyesight. But against his better judgment, he stood there. You approached him. 

“I remember you,” you said. “You’re the guy that puked ten years ago.” 

“You have quite the memory,” he grunted. “And an odd way of speech.” 

“Oh…well,” you cleared your throat. “I’m new.” 

“Where are you from?” 

“Uh…a town close to hear.” 

Pero grinned then. He leaned forward, crowding your space. He enjoyed the way your eyes widened, a slight fear swirling in them. You licked your bottom lip, and touched something on your waist. He didn’t bother to look down at it. His smile was wide and mocking. 

“You lie,” he answered. “I can tell.” 

The silence that followed was amusing to him. Your body locked up, eyes flitting between his. Enjoying the way you didn’t avert your eyes, Pero lets out a chuck. Crossing his arms over his chest, he backed away. 

“Come with me,” he said, pointing to a tavern with his head. “I wish to learn more about the woman that is riddled with mystery.” 

iii.

You appeared in a field this time. Pero, now older in age, made his way to you in haste. His home was riddled with memories of you. The stuff you bough, the books you chose. Only to not be touched for years. His eyes become wet as he wrapped his arms around you. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling you, etching you into his memory before you were lost to him again. 

“Pero,” you sighed, fingers toying with the soft curls that dance over his name. “I missed you.” 

“I missed you too, amor,” he whispered, warm breath fanning your skin. He felt the way your hands trembled. His knees buckled, both of you falling promptly to the field. His smile widened as you giggled, your face hovering an inch above his. You stroke his beard, gently pinching his chin. 

“You’ve grown handsome with old age.” 

“Does that mean you found me ugly before? I am hurt, rosa.” 

“No silly,” you leaned in, pressing your lips tenderly into his. “I’ve always found you handsome.” 

“Whereas you haven’t aged a day,” he answered, licking your bottom lips. “Stay. Don’t go.” 

You let out a sigh, and his heart sunk into his chest. After a silence that stretches, you kiss his neck. 

“Okay,” you whispered. “I will.” 

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

[prolix-yuy]

ok bangathon request

gentle romantic after argument sex missionary.

im so boring but there it is

There's nothing boring about missionary! And with one of my favorite couples, it's sure to be much more than that too...

Pairing: Pero Tovar x F!Reader

Position: Missionary

Word Count: 900

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, PiV sex, unprotected sex (don't be a fool, wrap your tool), creampie, discussions on infertility, Pero being a dumbass but he makes up for it.

Notes: A continuation of the Pero Tovar and his Guerrera series.

Many would say that Pero has little tact with women. He’s brutish in all ways a man can be, and that must extend to the people he lets into his bed. Anyone who’s seen him with his Guerrera would only think it proof of their opinions. The way they snarl and scratch at each other, their constant biting remarks, the sheer amount of eye-rolling as they listen, all point to Pero being impossible to deal with.

They’re only partly right.

Most days the barbs are playful, their conversation scalding because they can both handle the heat. Pero could not imagine a partner that’s soft and simpering to him. He loves her sharpness and how quickly she will join him in a debate. 

Sometimes, however, he does take it a step too far.

When he enters their bedroom tonight, he’s soft of foot and quiet. The door snicks shut behind him, his clothing removed and laid out of sight. You’re turned to the wall, coldly ignoring him preparing for bed. 

Get your hands off me.

Oh don’t be so dramatic, Pero. 

Then do not go about flailing your sword at every moment.

So five men against you is fair odds?

I am - just go and do…whatever it is you do.

What do you think I’d be doing if I wasn’t saving your skin?

Being a real woman somewhere far from here.

Pero knew he’d hit something far more painful than he intended when you were silent, the easy smile falling from your face. What he didn’t expect were the tears that bubbled to the surface, ones you hotly scrubbed from your face.

Of course, because a real woman will tend your home and have your babies.

Pero’s stomach drops at the memory, knowing how he pulled something so fresh and painful to the surface over a tavern brawl. How after his seed didn’t take one drunken night you told him it never would. That you could never be with child, and how you’d come to accept it. Pero had felt the twin pains of sadness and relief, knowing that this life was not for a child but still mourning the loss. He told you it did not change the color of his love one bit, but in his petulance he used it as a weapon against you.

The bed sinks under his weight as he sits on the edge, watching you curl into yourself. Pero sighs, words failing him as they always do.

“Mi vida,” he says, stroking his fingertips along the back of your shoulder. To his surprise you turn to your back, eyes puffy and tired, but the anger he expected drained from your bones. His hand slides to your hip, stroking his thumb into the flesh. His eyes meet yours, and a subtle nod urges him under the furs. Clamoring between your legs, he settles on his elbows over you.

“I’m sorry,” he says, searching your face for anything you’ll give. Another pause, this one aided by your hand on his cheek, before you give him another small nod. Pero leans down and presses a chaste kiss to your lips, your arms wrapping around his neck.

“You are my life,” he murmurs, your legs wrapping around his hips as he presses you into the mattress. 

“I know,” you say, placing a kiss of your own on his plush lips.

Words dissolve on your tongues as Pero shows his remorse better than he can say. Between the long devotions of lips, he lifts your legs higher to press into you, sheathing his cock inside. The roll of his hips is slow and languid, sometimes forgotten altogether in favor of returning to kiss you more. He cups your head and nips along your jaw, lets his thumb trace your nipple to a gentle peak. When you start to pant with his motions he teases you with the tips of his fingers, finding the place that clenches you around him. He doesn’t care to cum, he just wants to be as close to you, as deep within you as you’ll take him.

Your first peak flutters his lashes, nails biting into his back as he grinds you through your high. He follows that with a second, quieter one that shakes you in his arms. Your final one comes when you nod at him to chase his release, the slap of skin on skin and hushed confessions drowned out by the roar of his spend painting your walls.

When he comes down enough to curl you into his body, he finally finds the words.

“You are every part the woman I want, and need,” he says, tangled up with limbs and feelings he’s trying out for the first time. “You are everything.”

“Thank you, Pero,” you say, pulling back to rest your head on the pillow beside him. “And if you ever say otherwise I’ll take the only part of you that can continue your lineage.”

“I would be so lucky to lose them to you,” he rasps, the tremble of your giggle easing his mind. He stays inside you until he softens enough to slip out, and even then he considers plugging you up with his fingers to keep his seed inside. It’s a dream he will never speak to you, not willing to hurt you so deeply again, but he’s willing to nurse it. He’s seen greater miracles, after all.

END

LJ’s Bangathon 2023

#pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar x you #pero x reader #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar and his guerrera #pero tovar x female reader

[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

[morallyinept]

A list of all my favourite PERO TOVAR Fic Recs, with the writers tagged. Includes fics I am currently reading/want to read.

PART 1

Please show some love to the writers by re-blogging and commenting on their work. 🖤

⚠️ Please ensure you check the triggers/warnings etc... on the stories themselves as some of them may not be suitable to your own particular tastes.

Menuet - @psychedelic-ink Shapeshifter!Pero

Ego & Black Powder Series, Like That, Kinktober 22, Kinktober Pero & Ezra, & After Glow Chef!Pero - @psychedelic-ink

Tovar's Desires - @absurdthirst Featuring Javier Peña

Pero Tovar Masterlist - @absurdthirst So much to choose from!

Sinners & Knife Play - @brandyllyn

Pobre Pajarito - @iamskyereads Wife!OFC

Stay Close Series - @ezrasbirdie Modern!Pero

Hit Me & One Step At A Time Series - @foli-vora

Breeding Guard!Pero & Intercrual Sex Blacksmith!Pero - @moralesispunk

Yearn - @furious-rogue-stuff

Anytime, Anyplace, Anywhere Modern!Pero & Little Red's Shadow Series Werewolf!Pero - @littlemisspascal

Pero Tovar & His Guerrera Series - @prolix-yuy

Watch Over You - @flightlessangelwings

Marriage Of Convenience Series - @brewsterispunkk

Sassenach & The Spaniard Series - @wardenparker

First Kiss - @hopeamarsu GN!Reader

All's Faire - @thewayofthemandalorian

Cathedrals Of Our Own - @haylzcyon

Winktober Cockwarming & Dulces Sueños - @oonajaeadira

Bath/Shower Sex & Anal & Pero Masterlist - @supernaturalgirl20

Hate Fucking - @misspearly1

Gluttony - @whiskeynwriting Curvy!F!Reader

Anger Management & The Stranger In The Bar Series - @sirowsky

I Won't Give Up & Get Your Motor Runnin' - @writeforfandoms

Cold Winter - @multific

Euclidean Geometry - @leslie-lyman Featuring Frankie Morales & Jack Daniels

Pero On His Knees & The Warrior & The Witch Series - @pedrito-friskito

Sunday Morning - @lowlights Neighbour!Pero

The Rancher's Kid - @simpingcowboy GN!Reader

By Candlelight - @la-lunaluna Modern!Pero

La Belle et La Bête & Before Death Finds Us - @tropes-and-tales

A Rugged Kindness Series - @pedropascalsx

Suited - @lavenderursa Alpha!Pero

War Of Hearts Series - @beecastle

Pero Tovar Masterlist - @blueeyesatnight So much to choose from!

The Bait - @dino-fart

Warm My Heart - @nobedofroses

In Time Series - @imtryingmybeskar

Shelter In Place Series - @yespolkadotkitty

A Man Of Few Words - @autumnleaves1991-blog

In Autumn Light - @manndo

For You Always - @castleamc Modern!Pero

Edible Flowers - @absurdthirst Sex Pollen

Lost Time & History - @psychedelic-ink Professor!Pero

The Devil Right Beside Me Part 1 & Part 2 - @kiwisbell Featuring Dave York & Frankie Morales

Seed - @criticallyacclaimedstranger

Watercolour - @iamskyereads

Date Or Inseminate - @sirowsky

#pedro pascal characters #fic recs #pero tovar #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar the great wall #the great wall #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x f!reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal universe #perdo pascal fan fiction #perdo pascal character stories #pedro pascal character fics

[604to647]

Mi Galleta (Part 4 - Oatmeal Raisin)

6.4K / Modern AU Grumpy Bouncer!Pero Tovar x Sunshine-Rich Girl!reader

Summary: Pero tries to get back in your good graces.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please), angst, reader is hard on herself, pining, pet names (Cookie, princesa, hermosa, etc.), standard warning for Biker!Pero even though this isn't a biker AU, reader can wear Pero's shirt, eventual smut, unprotected PiV, oral (f receiving), they are IN LOVE OKAY 🥹

A/N: It's a HEA, don't worry! Thank you so much to everyone who has followed along with this mini-series! I can't believe I completed something 🥹

Series Masterlist

Pero is desperate to see you and to serve his penance for whatever you may have heard, but you won’t return any of his messages and all his calls go straight to voicemail; he’s pretty sure he’s been blocked.  Of course, he knows where you work and where you live, but he doesn’t want to scare you or make any of your spaces feel unsafe by showing up unwanted and unannounced, so he doesn’t go to you.  But it’s killing him.

You don’t come to the restaurant and neither do your friends.  In fact, the closest Pero comes to you for a month is when he spots Dorothy leaving one of Lin’s sister restaurants.  He had stopped by to grab some paper work when he sees her getting her coat from the coat check; after he calls her name, he watches her internally debate whether or not to ignore him, eventually separating from her party to stalk over to where he's awkwardly waiting.

“How is she?” he begs, unable to muster even a greeting or something remotely more eloquent.

Dorothy extends her hand and points her index finger directly into his chest, the force with which she pokes him shoving him back, “Leave her alone or I’ll make your life a living hell.”

She stomps off without another word, and he’s left feeling even worse than before; he can only imagine that Dorothy’s ire is reflective of yours.

He has to talk to you, has to know what you heard those assholes say so he can explain and soothe away the hurt caused.  But he doesn’t know how.

---

It’s worse than Pero thinks.  He’s broken you.  You remember sharing with him your insecurities surrounding letting your family’s wealth, or money in general, define you; Pero had nodded sympathetically as you explained how important it is for you to carve something into this world beyond the privilege that’s so plainly etched into your very presence.  It would be one thing if he thought you silly.  But this… to know that money is all he saw when he looked at you?  To hear Pero, William and those men reduce you to nothing more than a rich bitch, and write you off as unworthy of respect, undeserving of true affection?  It made you feel dirty.  Your money made you dirty.

You’re humiliated.  And your heart is broken.

You’re hard on yourself.  How could you have been so stupid?  Did you really think a few cookies and a kind smile would truly win over a man who abhorred snobbery?  He must have pegged you for an empty, vapid trophy fuck the first time he met you when you were just some entitled brat who wanted to eat at a fancy restaurant.  Why would he ever think differently of you?  How stupid of you to think he might.

Once in a while, you will recall Pero’s whispered sweet nothings and his soft touches, and your eyes will well up immediately.  He had fooled you so good.  You wonder if it disgusted him to pretend to care for you when he actually found you pathetic.  Or did it amuse him how easily you had fallen for his charms? Did he laugh at your dumb naïve heart?  You hate yourself a little for being so stupid. 

And you hate yourself a lot for still missing him.

“Guess what?” asks your boss, excited.

“What?” you can’t help but grin.  Greg is a good boss.  He’s mentored and trained you, and for the past few years, he’s treated you like his co-lead on the team, giving you the opportunities and responsibilities to help you rise in your career; broadcasting your value to the firm by seeking and relying on your opinions and decisions.  He’s a good egg.  You’re really lucky.

“Joanna is coming to town!”

Ahhh… Joanna is Greg’s boss.  She’s a good boss too, just a bit more restrained in her positive feedback than Greg would probably like; more than once you’ve surmised that Greg cultivated with you the type of mentor-mentee relationship that he had hoped for with Joanna.  Still, she’s an important figure at the firm and Greg loves impressing her. 

“That’s great!  Where are we going for lunch?” your eyes twinkle; if there was one thing Joanna likes, it was going out to eat on the company’s dime.

“Well… I need to ask a favour.”

“Ask away,” you smile, if you can help Greg get on Joanna’s good side, you’re happy to do it.

“I know you’ve been to that restaurant Lin?  The one on Cardero and has the rave reviews for its fusion food?  Joanna read about it and wants to go.”

Your heart drops the moment he says the name of the restaurant, but you successfully keep a placid expression in place and nod.

“I heard it’s hard to get into.  Impossible.  No, actually, I can’t even find out how to do it?  Do you have any idea?  Or… do you think you could get us in?” Greg puts his hands up in prayer and makes a puppy dog face at you, complete with comical pout.

It’s been almost two months since the day you had run away from Lin; no, since the day when those disgusting words and the sound of Pero’s cruel laugh had chased you out.  You and your friends haven’t been back, and to be honest, you haven’t done much going out since.  Eloise and Dorothy were perfectly happy to stay in with you, watch old movies, drink wine and wallow, but you hadn’t wanted them to miss out on the city scene; besides, as you reminded them, it was their job to go out.  So, at your insistence, they had gone back to the social scene, leaving you at home with your still very broken heart.  The idea of seeing Pero, of asking him for a favour, gives you a stomach ache just thinking about it.  Would he laugh in your face?  Pretend he didn’t know you?  Some other equally awful possibility your imagination isn’t masochistic enough to come up with?  Probably.  But, Dorothy did say she had a run in with Pero at another restaurant a couple of weeks ago; perhaps he no longer worked at Lin.  You wrestle internally with whether or not you want that to be true, but agree with Greg that it’s worth you giving it a try.

Pero barely registers when a group of patrons file into the lobby, most of them stepping aside into the waiting area, probably waiting for all of their party to show up.  He gives them a cursory glance while maintaining his glowering expression; he counts seven (so far) office workers.  After less than a minute, a man and a tall woman who’s impeccably dressed, walk in.  The man is chatting excitably to her, and she is giving him polite responses while taking in the surroundings of the lobby with an air of condescension.  Unexpectedly, they also move aside to join the group that’s waiting.  Pero would have thought these two were heading up the party, but he doesn’t have any time to register his surprise because the figure that was hidden by theirs, revealed when they moved to the side, is yours.

Although you’re not making eye contact with him, you do continue walking towards him and Pero’s heart leaps into his throat; he holds his breath until you reach his desk.

“Hi,” you finally raise your eyes to look at him. 

“Hi,” he exhales.  His heart hurts.  Your eyes seem dimmed, and you look like you’re trying to make yourself small, like you would rather be anywhere but here.

“I’m sorry to have to ask.  My boss’ boss is in town,” you give a small smile when you look over and nod in their direction before turning back to Pero, “She really wanted to eat here, and my boss really wants to impress her.  Do you think it would be possible?  I’m sorry to ask this of you.”

Pero can’t stop looking at you.  You’re more beautiful than he remembered.  And still so sweet and kind.  Even now, it’s clear you don’t want to be here, but you’re extending yourself to help someone else.  He wishes you knew you didn’t have to apologize.  He would never deny you anything, happily give you anything you desired, “It’s not a problem, you don’t need to apologize.  How many are you?  I’ll call up to Leah to expect you.”

“Leah?!” your face lights up knowing that one of people you were closest to at the restaurant is working today, “Oh!  I’m so glad! We’re ten, thank you.”

So thrilled and relieved to see your smile, Pero can’t help but break out into a grin himself, breaking the illusion of the fearsome bouncer he’s supposed to be, “She’ll be glad to see you as well.  Come on, call your party over.”

After everyone has filed into the elevator, you step in last and watch as Pero reaches in to press the button; for the first time today, you really look at him and mouth, “Thank you.”

Upstairs, you find Leah waiting for you with a big smile and an even bigger hug; after an enthusiastic greeting to you and your party, she leads you to one of the best tables in the restaurant.  You see Greg giving you a discreet thumbs up as Joanna looks around the large dining room, marveling at the elegant décor. 

“We would like to offer you our Chef’s tasting menu today.  It’s 12-courses, chef’s choice of his favourite dishes.”

“Oh!“ you look at Greg unsure, and he in turn also looks very unsure, especially when he sees Joanna smiling broadly; it sounds very expensive, maybe too expensive for a corporate lunch.  You’re just contemplating how you can manage to discreetly cover some of the cost when Leah shocks you, “Everything today is complimentary, please don’t be shy.  It’s everyone at Lin’s pleasure to have you as our guests.”

“Leah,” you start to protest, but she shushes you with a knowing look in her eye and a conspiratorial smile.

“That sounds wonderful!” exclaims Joanna, and when you see how she beams, impressed, at Greg, you nod in assent at Leah, who grins back at you.  After she leaves to put in everyone’s drink order, you excuse yourself and follow her.

“LEAH!!” you hiss, when you catch-up to her next to the kitchen.

“Yes?” she looks up at you with an innocent expression.

“That’s too much! Let me pay for some of this!”

“No can do, hun.  I’m under strict orders to spare no expense for your table today.  Give your boss’ boss the VIP experience.”

“Oh Leah,” you soften.

“He misses you.”

You don’t have a response to that.

“And he’s been a miserable grump to everyone at the restaurant.”

This you can easily believe, “I’m sorry, Leah.  He… broke my heart.”

She looks at you like maybe she knows something you don’t, but also with something like sympathy; after another hug she makes a silly shooing motion with her hands, “Go on back to the table.  Drinks and the first course will be out shortly.”

Lunch is superb.  Each course more tantalizing than the last.  One might have thought 12 courses was too many, but each dish is perfectly portioned and sequenced so that the flavours of each course build upon the one previous, culminating in one very satisfying meal.  Elevating the food to another level is the impeccable service and attention that you and your table receives.  It seems like your party is attended to by more than twice the usual staff; each person’s needs anticipated before they can even voice them, leaving them wanting for nothing.  At one point, you choke down a chuckle because it reminds of you those regency dinner scenes where each diner has a footman standing right behind them; it’s almost too much, but Joanna is eating it up.  Greg is elated, and you couldn’t be more pleased at seeing him triumph. 

When the after-meal coffee and tea is served, a giant cookie is wedged between your cup and its saucer; ginger molasses, your favourite.  You take a nibble and it’s heavenly.

“Hey!  How come the rest of us don’t get cookies?” jokes one of your teammates.  You look around and realize it’s true, you’re the only one that got a cookie.

Leah is quick to answer, “It’s an apology cookie.  For our lackluster performance the last time she was here.”

You know the true meaning behind the gesture and these words, but you can’t help but shake your head, “Don’t be ridiculous, no apology is necessary.  And even if one was warranted, which it is NOT, today’s exemplary service and food would have been more than enough.  We couldn’t be more impressed.  Thank you so, so much.”

Your table mates echo your sentiments and thanks.

Before you leave you leave the restaurant with your team, you force Leah to process a generous tip for all the staff on your card; she tries to protest but stops when you give her a scowl that you think would rival Pero’s.  Giving her a hug goodbye, coupled with a promise that you’ll try to come back soon, you ride the elevator back downstairs a jumble of emotions.

There’s no doubt in your mind that the special treatment your table received today was at Pero’s behest, but why would he bother?  It was enough that he had granted your party access, nothing else had been expected or needed; but the staff had gone out of their way to make sure your experience had been special, that Joanna was impressed and wowed.  You sneak a look at Greg’s expression next to you; he’s positively glowing.  You decide that you could drive yourself crazy trying to understand Pero’s motivations, but the important thing was that he had gone to great lengths for you when he didn’t need to and you’re extremely grateful.

You find that you don’t dread seeing him now the same way you did when you came in earlier, actually looking forward to thanking him for the kindness he has just shown you and your co-workers.

You’re the last to leave elevator and by the time Pero’s desk comes into view, you see that half of your teammates have already exited the building.  Ahead of you, Greg is earnestly shaking Pero’s hand, thanking him for his hospitality and singing the praises of the restaurant.  When you see Pero’s kind expression and the sincerity with which he clasps Greg’s hand in thanks, your already softening heart melts a little more.

Finally, it’s your turn. Pero’s been waiting for you.  Waiting since the elevator doors closed earlier.  Waiting since the day he knew you were last in this very lobby.  Your eyes don’t leave his as you approach; he thinks the expression in your eyes is a little softer than earlier, a little bit of the light that he’s missed is back.  For a what feels like an eternity, neither of you say anything, then simultaneously,

“Cookie…”

“Thank you.”  Pero gestures for you to go first.

“Pero, thank you.  The lunch was such a success and an incredible dining experience in and of itself.  I know it was all because of you.  Thank you.”

“Cookie.  Not me.  It was because of you.  Everything was for you,” Pero’s tone soft and pleading.  He doesn’t want to scare you away, but he can barely contain his emotions.  To have you here before him, your sweet face looking at him like you with something that isn’t the imagined hate that’s been haunting him – it's all he’s been hoping for for the past two months.

You don’t know what to say.  Why would he do this for me?

About to thank him again, you’re stopped when Pero holds something out to you.  It’s an empty container.  The one previously filled with the snickerdoodles you had forgotten on his desk the last time you were in this lobby.  Everything comes rushing back now.  Your chest tightens at the memory of the crass and demeaning words you overheard and the harshness of Pero’s cruel laughter that still rings in your ears.  And just like that, your good mood is shattered, much like your heart. 

You take the container back, hands shaking, and mumble another thanks; leaving quickly before you start to cry.

Pero stares at your retreating form, knowing that you’re hurting and feeling helpless that he can’t do anything but be the cause.

---

You’re unable to concentrate on anything once you get back to work, still reeling from the whiplash of emotions you’ve experience since seeing Pero again.  Luckily, despite your boss’ boss’ presence, the entire department seems to have collectively decided to forgo doing any work for the rest of the day, instead chatting happily about the experience at Lin and upcoming weekend plans.  Glad for everyone’s distracted state, you attempt to process your feelings.  Toying mindlessly with the cleaned container that was returned to you today, you open it when you feel the slight weight of something move inside.  Reaching in, you find a piece of paper, folded several times; when unfurled, you realize it’s a letter.

Cookie,

I’m so sorry.  I don’t know what you overheard the day you left me the cookies that came in this container, but I have to apologize for your ears ever being exposed to anything so offensive and vile; I won’t give it any credence by repeating any of it.  

The people responsible no longer work here and have not since the moment William and I were able to express our disgust for their comments.  If for even a second you felt that there was any truth to what was said about you, I am truly sorry – I cannot bear it actually, because, princesa, you mean more to me than you can fathom.

I would do anything for you.  Serve you willingly.  Do anything to see you smile or bring you a moment’s joy.  Cookie, I love you. I didn’t want the first time I said it to be in a letter, but it’s possible this may be my only chance, so here it is. I love you.

I think I’ve loved you since the moment I met you; the day you came in looking for Lin felt like first day of the rest of my life.  What did I ever do to deserve you even looking my way?  I’m just a grumpy asshole.  But you’ve lit up my life every day since you entered it.  

I didn’t know life could be so sweet until I met you, my Cookie.  

Te amo, princesa,

Pero

You read it three times.  So he did think what was said about you was horrible.  But then… why did he laugh with them?  At you?  You suppose that if he truly thought you as worthless as those men, he wouldn’t feel one way or another that you overheard.  Oh.  His feelings.  You look over those words in the letter again.  I love you.

I love you.

The words swim in your head and make you dizzy.  If he loved you, why did he never come to see you?  Beg for you to hear his side of the story?  Why did he let you think he was perfectly content for you to walk out of his life?  He loves you?

But you had loved him too, didn’t you?  Before that day, and if you’re honest with yourself, maybe even since.  You had loved how soft he would turn just for you.  Loved his passion, how hard he dedicated he was at a job he clearly loved.  How he took every opportunity to make you feel special.  How he made you laugh.  How he showed you the core of who he was: generous, loyal, kind.  How he praised those exact traits in you. 

The rest of the afternoon is a blur, your mind full of Pero and your chest bubbling over with conflicting and confusing emotions.  At the first opportunity that presents itself, you clock out early, bid farewell to your co-workers, and walk as fast as you can to Pero’s building.  Opening the door with more force than necessary, you march straight up to Pero’s desk; he sits up straighter, surprised at your appearance.  You slap his letter down on his desk in front of him and practically yell, “You love me??!?” and promptly burst into tears, the whirlwind of feelings you’ve been holding in all day finally overwhelming you.

Pero is up on his feet in an instant, wrapping his arms around you and crushing you to his chest, hands stroking your hair and back in what he hopes is a soothing manner.  Slowly, never letting you go, he walks the two of you towards the front doors; once there, he locks each lock, including the ground pins, never letting his touch stray from your body, his gaze from your sad face.  Then tucking you under his shoulder and once again wrapping his arms around you as you continue to cry soft tears, he takes you upstairs.  As the elevator door opens, you hear Leah’s greeting cut short when she sees who it is.  She barely gets two words in, “Pero, what ha-,” before he very definitively orders, “Leah, send everyone home, please.  We’re not opening tonight.  Tell everyone they will be paid and to consider it a night off.”  His tone leaves no room for argument, and Leah leaves swiftly to carry out his orders.

All the wait staff who had been setting up the dining room for dinner service scatter upon you and Pero entering; he guides you to the back of the room and sits on a cushioned bench, gently pulling you down onto his lap.  You remained buried into his neck, letting him calmingly rub your neck, back and legs until your sobs subside.

When you finally lift your head and look at him, eyes still glassy with tears, Pero gently dries your wet cheeks with his thumbs before answering your question, “Yes, Cookie, I love you.”

“But why,” you feel another sob welling up from your chest, “… why did you never try to come see me?  Talk to me?  Why was I so easy to leave?”

“Oh fuck, Cookie,” Pero presses a soft kiss to your forehead as fresh tears cascade down your cheeks, “I’m so sorry.  I should have.  I should have tried every day.  I should have begged on my knees.  I wanted to.  I just didn’t want to scare you or force you to see me if you hated me.  But it killed me.  I regret not trying everyday to get you back.  I’m sorry, baby.”

He tells you about not wanting to make you feel unsafe by showing up when you didn’t expect him, and you have to admit that that was quite thoughtful.  “And it wasn’t easy to be without you, princesa.  I’ve missed you every day.  Your laugh.  And your voice.  And all the sweet and funny things you say that brighten up my day.  Knowing that you were hurt and that I couldn’t do anything, I felt so fucking useless.”

You glace up at him, nervous and pitiful the way you whisper, “You laughed, Pero.”

Pero looks confused until you explain what you heard.  His eyes widen in comprehension, realizing that all this time, it wasn’t just the foul words that you had overheard that had hurt you, but the idea, the certainty, that he had felt the same way as those morons.  His heart drops to his stomach.  He cannot get down on his knees fast enough to beg your forgiveness.  Gently lifting you off his lap, he slides to the ground onto his knees and takes your hands, laying them on your lap clasped in his.

“Pero, you don’t have to…” this is unnecessary, you think.

But to Pero it isn’t unnecessary.  In fact, it’s entirely necessary that he assumes this position of reverence and humility.  His expression solemn but desperate as he explains, trying to walk you through the events that you only partially overheard.  Needing you to understand that the laughter you heard wasn’t conciliatory, but an uncontrolled outburst stemming from his own anger.  As he speaks, you feel as if you were there with him, feeling the rage he felt at you being disrespected and insulted vibrating through his hands.  When he finishes, Pero’s exhausted at having relived those moments; the fury he felt once again fresh in his chest, but this time paired with shame that he ever allowed you to go about your life thinking he had felt anything but love and veneration for you.  He lays his head on your hands, ready to receive whatever harsh judgment you rain down on him.  He deserves it.

When he feels your soft hands move to stroke his face and run gently through his hair, he looks up to see you gazing back at him softly, eyes filled with tears again, “Oh Pero, I’m so sorry.”

Confused, he frowns a little, “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Cookie.”

Shaking your head, you have to disagree, “I shouldn’t have doubted you, Pero.  You’ve shown me so many times how genuine and honourable you are, I should have given you the benefit of the doubt and let you explain rather than assuming the worst.  You deserved more from me.”

He can’t have this, you taking any blame for your own hurt; rising to his feet and pulling you up with him, he whispers, “I should have tried every day to explain.  To take better care of your heart.  You deserved more from me.”  Then he kisses you and your heart explodes; every emotion you feel: love, regret, relief, gratefulness, joy, all spill over and your lips desperately try to calligraph what you’re unable to say onto Pero’s.  He kisses you with the hunger and longing of a man far too long parched, one having just stumbled upon the oasis of your forgiveness. 

“How come Leah said we’re clos--,” William’s voice cuts through your dream-like bubble.  Pero looks up at his friend, who reads the situation for what it is immediately.  Your heart softens further upon seeing William, realizing you had misjudged him as well.  William is all smiles, his good nature not easily affected as he claps Pero’s shoulder and demonstrates happiness for his friend’s obvious joy. 

“If Leah can call everyone back, how about we still open, pay everyone double for the confusion, and I call in someone to cover the front door tonight?” offers William, and Pero easily assents with a nod of his head.

“Wait,” you say, pushing back slightly from Pero’s arms so you can look between both men, “…the two of you can just open or close the restaurant whenever you want?”

Pero and William glance at each other as you continue, “…and you make the pay decisions?  Like paying people for not working… or double?”

You look right at Pero, “And you have the authority to fire dishwashers and busboys?”

Pero takes a deep breath, “Cookie, there’s something I have to tell you.”

You’re looking at both him and William with such a high degree of incredulousness, Pero thinks that this is perhaps the first time he’s ever been on the receiving end of a look as stern as the ones he’s used to giving.  William looks sheepish and gives Pero a wide-eyed side glance that clearly says: Can’t help you, brother.  Sighing, Pero bites the bullet, “William and I… we’re not just the host and bouncer of Lin… we’re the owners.”

You take a step back and cross your arms, tilting your head and raising your eyebrows, silent while you take this in.

“The restaurant is named after Lin Mae, William’s wife… and it’s not the only restaurant we own.  We have a restaurant group in the city… and in a few other cities as well,” finishes Pero, afraid to meet your eye.

“Let me get this straight,” you say very deliberately and slowly, “you’re an internationally celebrated restauranteur… and you let me cook for you??!” You punch Pero hard in the arm before covering your face in embarrassment.

Both William and Pero chuckle and Pero rubs his big strong hands up and down your arms, soothingly, “I love your cooking, Cookie.”

Voice still muffled behind your hands, you sigh, “Don’t patronize me.”

“I would never, princesa,” Pero pulls you close and presses loving kisses to your temple, “Truly, I’ve loved everything you ever made me.”

“Your cookies are the best,” chimes in William, “my favourite were the salted caramel.”

You didn’t know Pero had shared your cookie bribes, but the fact that William’s favourite were Pero’s least makes you smile a little.

A new thought strikes you, “Is this why I’ve never been to your place?”

At this, Pero does look ashamed, “Oh Cookie, I’m sorry.  I knew if you saw my place, the jig would be up.”

You wave goodbye to William as you and Pero head to the locker room to grab his belongings before leaving; after Pero’s confessions today, you won’t make the mistake of assuming any ill intent on his part again, but you are curious, “Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”

“I didn’t intend on keeping it from you, I swear,” says Pero, thoughtfully, “but I can’t say it wasn’t a little bit liberating to have you get to know just me, without all the bells and whistles.  It’s very rare to be seen for who I am, and not what I do or what I have.”

This, you can understand well, and you know Pero knows you do.  You snuggle in closer to him, listening to the steady beating of Pero’s heart for the whole of the elevator ride.  As you exit the building and walk towards his bike, Pero does apologize, “But I should have told you the truth sooner, Cookie.  I’m not sure why I didn’t, except that things were going well and I didn’t want anything to change.”

He looks a little like a wounded puppy, and you decide that the two of you have wasted enough time on regrets so you lace your fingers behind his neck and pull him down for a deep, tender kiss. “You’re forgiven, Pero,” you purr into his mouth, “for everything.”

“Do you want to go to my place now?” Pero smiles against your lips.

Eyes brightening, you nod.  For some reason, going to Pero’s home for the first time feels like the start of a new beginning, and you can’t help but bounce a little in excitement as Pero lowers his helmet over your head.  The feeling of wearing a bike helmet, Pero’s helmet in particular, and getting ready to ride on the back of his bike again, drives home for you the realness of your reconnection.  You sigh in contentment as you anticipate the familiar hum of the motor beneath you.  Pero revels in a similar sentiment, unable to believe the good fortune that when he takes off tonight, it will once again be with the feeling of your arms wrapped snugly around his midsection.

Speeding past your apartment and riding further north, Pero eventually pulls into a garage beneath a luxury high-rise in one of the city’s most exclusive areas.  You chuckle when you realize it’s about a block away from where Dorothy lives.  During the elevator’s long ride up, you jokingly ask if Pero’s ever had any near misses with Dorothy in the neighbourhood, and his laughter while he shakes his head leads you to believe he has.

When the elevator doors open to a private foyer with only one locked doorway, you realize, he lives in the penthouse, the fucker!  Your breath is taken away the moment Pero opens his front door: floor to ceiling windows border the open concept space so you can admire a near 180 degree view of the city just from where you stand.  The room has a simple, modern aesthetic, but you’re not fooled by the minimalist look of the furniture – your keen eye can tell that everything in this room has been thoughtfully selected for its quality, fit and function.  Though understated, the luxurious feel of the décor is evident; everything has its place, fitting together elegantly.  You spy a few personal touches of Pero’s, including a model of a Ducati motorcycle that looks familiar even in its miniature form.  But what truly leaves you awestruck is the kitchen: the cabinets and appliances are primarily stainless steel, giving it a professional industrial look, but the accent surfaces of marble and white lacquer tie in the space with the rest of the apartment’s sleek feel.  It’s huge.  And well loved, you can tell.  You hungrily eye all the cool kitchen gadgets and appliances resting along the counter tops and the large marble island that centers the design.  Your mouth might water a little at the thought of all the delicious food that has been prepared here.

“Hungry, Cookie?” asks Pero, amused as if he can read your mind.

Turning towards him, you see how relaxed and at home he looks among all this understated luxury, and not for the first time, you find yourself stunned by how devastatingly handsome he is.  Throwing yourself at him, your mouth connects with his, open and willing, “Yes, Pero.  I’m hungry.”

After removing each others’ clothing in a frenzy, giggling while tossing garments behind and over furniture, flinging some to the far corners of the room, Pero gently lays you down on his plush carpet, ready to worship you.  He takes his time kissing and licking each line and curve of your body, reacquainting himself with every dip and valley, as if he could ever have truly forgotten their taste.  Each shudder and whimper he pulls from you a small victory for him that your body has missed him too. 

By the time Pero buries his face between your legs, you’re boneless and aching, a sticky mess already painting the inside of your thighs as you cry out for Pero to give you some relief.  Your hands tug and pull at his hair, your words drip with soft pleas, then desperate demands, but nothing with hurry Pero.  He’s on a mission to seek penance from your pussy and nothing will deter him.  Every lick and stroke of his tongue an apology, each flick and circle of your clit an atonement for his wrongs, his two, then three fingers curl inside you pleading for forgiveness.  You grant it with your back arched and your mouth open in a soundless scream, forgetting why you had ever even been apart.

When he finally enters you, it’s slow and sweet, arms bracing your head and fingers stroking your hair as he whispers words of love and praise.

“Missed you so much, Cookie.”

“Feel so good around me, princesa.  Never going to leave this perfect cunt again.”

“I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Your eyes never leave his, even when they fill with tears.  He just feels so good.  And you missed him so much.  Now he’s yours again.  He was always yours.  And he loves you.  And you love him, too.  You sing it so he knows.

It’s slow and sweet, until it’s not.  The urgency of Pero’s thrusts is accompanied by the crushing of his lips to yours.  As your tongues dance, your fingers do the same on your clit, bringing you closer and closer to the summit.  Every drive of Pero’s hips bottoms him out deep in your cunt, the force of which you absorb with pleasure, crying out for more, more, more.  He gladly delivers - he’ll never deny you anything ever.  So long as you remain his, everything that’s his is yours for the taking, “Take it, princesa.  Take my cock like the good girl you are.”  You do as he commands, taking it all until you come, clenching down so hard on his length that Pero’s own fall isn’t far behind.  Both still panting and lightheaded from your twin highs, you hold each other close with Pero softening inside you, kissing and whispering I love you until you both come back down to Earth. 

---

Padding into Pero’s kitchen wearing nothing but one of his dress shirts, you wrap your arms around Pero’s waist as he lifts the cookies from the baking sheet with a spatula.  Handing you a warm cookie, he watches you in anticipation as you take a bite.  The reversal of your roles from when you first met not lost on him.

The sweet taste on your tongue is heavenly, “10/10.  Ginger molasses, my favourite,” you beam, “This tastes a lot like the one at the restaurant.”

“Of course it does, Cookie,” Pero answers, as if it’s obvious.  He continues to transfer the remaining cookies to the cooling rack, “Who do you think gave the recipe to the kitchen?  I had them start to bake them a while ago.  Just wanted to have something at the restaurant that reminded me of you.”

“That so sweet,” you coo, reaching for a second cookie.

“And maybe subconsciously I thought, bake it and she will come.”

Munching down on the sweet treat, you quip, “You really have Joanna to thank you that.  She’s the one who wanted to come to Lin today.”

“I mean, if we’re going to get technical about it, the person I really have to thank is Dorothy, since she’s the one who wanted to eat at Lin in the first place,” shrugs Pero.

“Should I invite her over?” you giggle, only half joking.

“Why not?  But maybe put some pants on first,” chuckles Pero, as he turns to clean the dirty baking tools in the sink.

Giggling as you head to Pero’s closet to find a pair of sweatpants, you type out a message on your phone: Dorie, you’ll never guess where I am!

2 years later

“… the bride was a vision in custom off the shoulder, full length Vera Wang.  The bridesmaids wore matching vintage Gucci from Tom Ford’s 1996 collection.  Not to be outdone, the groom, elusive restauranteur Pero Tovar, impressed in his custom black and white Zegna tuxedo.  Guests were in for a special surprise and honour; the reception of the joyous nuptials was held in the restaurateur’s newest addition to his culinary empire with the celebrations serving as the restaurant’s private opening.  Per a statement from the groom and his business partner, William Garin’s representatives, the restaurant, which will have its public opening following the happy couple’s honeymoon, is named ‘Mi Galleta’ as a gift to his new wife.”

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