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anglingforlevels · 5 months

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Another Generic Slasher (Yandere Slasher x Reader)

Don't mind me, accidentally deleting this story and having to repost it. It was my first attempt at writing gore, so nothing too egregious in here.

CW: Graphic Death Scenes, Character Death, Violence (A Little Against Reader), Gore, Yandere, Swearing, Reader is referred to as “handsome” but not in reference to a gender, Dead Dove, Not Proofread

Minors DNI

Life was far away, and you hoped it wouldn’t catch up to you anytime soon. So, you thought, as you arrived at the summer getaway you and your friends had planned. When the car stopped, everyone jumped out and, perhaps inspired by their own anticipation, began unpacking without missing a beat.

“Ah, let me help you with that, Ms. Browning.” Jake said, already grabbing some of the boxes that Ms. Browning had brought with her.

“Why thank you, how reliable. What a good kid.” She hummed, pleased. Ms. Browning was the lady who owned the lovely house out in the wood that you and your friends had rented for vacation. She wore her red hair in a tight bun, and donned black, thick glasses.

“No problem. Ms. Browning.” Jake smiled. That sap was always offering to help people out, so he no doubt meant it. He had never minded a bit of hard work even on his days off. You, however, were happy to leave him to do the heavy lifting.

You had come here with three of your buddies to get away from the city and enjoy your time-off with some extra flair. Jake had suggested it back when you helped him dye the tips of his brown hair a lighter shade.

You had jumped at the idea, and begun calling up the others, so much that you had forgotten about the dye for a moment, leaving Jake’s tips white, which you had insisted contrasted well with his brown hair and dark skin (though he continued pouting, not entirely convinced).

Someone gently tapped your shoulder. Looking over a bespeckled, freckled visage greeted you, as she waited patiently for you to give the go-ahead to talk. “What up, Aisha?”

She hesitated for a moment. “…Is there anything I can help with?”

You had the feeling that wasn’t what she had been wanting to say, but didn’t want to push her, so instead, you simply nodded with a grin. “Yeah, for starters, you could bring your luggage inside?”

“Right. Of course.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, a little worried for her. Your attention was called elsewhere when Sara, the finale member of the group, yelled out, her voice echoing in the forest. “Jake let’s race to see who gets their box inside first. Loser has to make dinner tonight.”

Sara emerged from the hood of Ms. Browning’s car, with two boxes stacked in her arms. Which seemed impressive, had you not seen a pillow peeking through one of the boxes. The only disadvantage was the lack of visibility, but given Sara’s buzz cut versus Jake’s long bangs, it didn’t count for much.

“You wanna race in that long dress?” Jake asked dubiously.

“Scared?” Sara smiled that crooked smile she always did when she got competitive, and Jake rolled his eyes, despite eagerly getting in position. Those dorks.

“I’ll do the countdown.” You offered. “On now. 3. 2. 1.” You kept them waiting in suspense for a moment before shouting. “NOW!”

They both kicked off and… “I won.” Aisha’s voice rang out, and there she stood with a small box in the doorway, with a little smile on her lips.

“Whaaat?” Jake exclaimed. Sara shook her head in disapproval.

“Judge, I call foul. Aisha was already by the porch.”

“We never agreed to a starting line.” You pointed out, having seen Aisha moving toward the porch mischievously while you did your countdown.

“The judge and Aisha are clearly cooperating. Outrageous.” Then, Sara smiled a cat-like smile. “Then, we’ll just have to make sure the judge comes in last place, right Jake?”

“Huh.” You said, but by the time you processed the words, they had already taken off. “Hey now!” You ran after them, but predictably lost.

“Lookin’ forward to tonight’s meal.” Jake said, looking mighty satisfied with himself. You shook your fist at them playfully.

“The energy of youth really isn’t to be overestimated.” Ms. Browning laughed, entering the house with the last of her boxes.

“Youth? Tell that to my lower back, please.” You sighed, earning an eye roll from Jake who had been subjected to that specific complaint the most, as your go-to carrier.

“At my age, anyone under forty seems young.” Ms. Browning placed her box on the table and clapped her hands satisfied. “There, that was all of it. Again, thank you for helping me carry the boxes, that’s no trivial thing. It’s been years since I’ve rented this place out, so I thought I’d replace a couple of things.”

“It was no problem, Ms. Browning, you let us stove our stuff in the car too after all. And we’re just excited to vacation somewhere so beautiful.”

“That’s true. Beautiful places seems to make the spirit brighter, don’t they? It’s like I always say, trivial is as trivial does, and ugly things are trivial.”

…

Exchanging looks, none of you knew how to respond to that, to your luck, Ms. Browning simply continued on, allowing all of you to push past it as well.

You began zoning out of the conversation, your eyes idly looking at the interior. When your eyes flew past the open door, you thought your heart would stop for a moment. You could have sworn that, for just a second, you saw a man, an impossibly tall, large man. But after blinking, he was gone.

You relaxed, certain it had probably just been your mind playing tricks on you, and that it had merely been a tree.

Sara and Jake was busy discussing who had actually been the fastest runner between the two of them, so much so that most of Ms. Browning’s introduction to the place went on deaf ears, as she prattled on about the privacy and view. Something about how it was one out of only ten buildings in the entire forest.

As you looked over the place, your eyes drifted over a dresser there seemed a little too far from the wall. Something about it piqued your curiosity, though you weren’t sure what it was, but approaching it you were awarded for said curiosity with the discovery of uneven, barely eligible letters scratched into the wall.

“Trevel?” you read out loud. Jake, who was losing the argument against Sara, eagerly joined to see what you had found, none of you noticing the way Ms. Browning shifted uncomfortably.

“It’s a name, dear.”

“A name? I’ve never heard it before.”

“Well, that makes sense. It’s an ugly name, fit for ugly boys.” You were caught off guard by the harshness of her words. Then she smiled at you and Jake. “And trivial is as trivial does, and ugly boys are trivial. Something like that would be out-of-place with such handsome kids.”

You were distracted by a loud noise outside before you could reply. A look outside revealed the neatly stacked firewood having collapsed, and by the time you looked away, Ms. Browning had already moved on from the conversation.

Before leaving us to ourselves, Ms. Browning diligently gave us a run-down over where everything was, from the firewood outside by the woodchipper, which we were allowed to make use of for fires, to the rooms, even considerately telling how far away the nearest doctors, police, and firefighters were, most being quite far with the exception of a small, local police station, so small it couldn’t even be considered small-town cops but rather forest rangers.

With our ride gone, we began packing out and taking inventory, in case something was missing, and we’d need to call a taxi for shopping. By the time all the boxes had been sorted through for the most crucial stuff, it had begun to grow darker outside.

“Man, I’m starving.” Sara grumbled.

”We could tell by the fact you only unpacked the food.”

Sara playfully stuck her tongue out at you, but even with that rude display, you obediently began collecting ingredients. Jake looked over your shoulder.

“Yellow onions are better for stews.” He commented, as he threw one of the red onions from hand to hand.

“And the red one carries more whimsy.”

“I can carry that whimsy to the pantry and get some yellow onions instead.”

That was promptly rejected. As he examined your other chosen vegetables, you got out a cutting board.

“Not gonna handle the meat first?” he asked.

You sighed. “What happened to ‘loser cooks’ that you forced me into?” you asked with a hand on your hip. Jake conceded and stepped back. The others had begun getting out the new plates that Ms. Browning had brought along.

“Remind me again, why exactly are you getting plates out already? We haven’t even begun the fire, I’m only at the prep-part?”

“Explain why you began the prep-work before the fire-“ they were interrupted by a loud crash. A plate had slipped out of Aisha’s hands, and now laid shattered on the floor. Aisha stood frozen, her eyes wide.

“I… I’ll clean it up..” She said, her tone sounding a little off.

“I think Ms. Browning mentioned that there’s a broom closet in the hallway.” Sara said, before Aisha even left, you got distracted by Jake crowding you again. By the third interjection (or advice, as he called), you put down the peeler you had used for the carrots.

“Ugh, Jake, you clearly want to do the cooking.” You said. Jake opened his mouth but seemed to think better of it and decided not to protest your words. You sighed. “You and Sara are way too competitive; you’ll even fight for a loss. I’ll go get some firewood for the fire; you get cooking duty.”

“Deal!”

You walked outside, hoping that the firewood wasn’t too damp, as you really didn’t want to cut new firewood, even if there was an axe available. These contemplations were lost as you found Aisha sitting on the porch.

“Trouble finding the broom?” You asked lightly, making Aisha jump a little, startled.

“Just needed a bit of fresh air.” She said, this time you took notice of her tone. She seemed downcast but you couldn’t quite place your finger on it. Not quite sad but definitely not happy either.

“Hey man,” you scratched your neck awkwardly. This stuff weren’t your strong suit. “don’t sweat the plate. We’ll just get Ms. Browning a new one.”

Aisha hummed in agreement, still looking at the sky. Your eyes flickered between her and the sky, trying to think of something more to say. “Uh, you know, I mistook a tree for a person, like some kind of horror movie. Which, well,” you trailed off. “What I’m trying to say, it’s more embarrassing than the plate-thing, so don’t worry about it.”

Aisha smiled at that. Whether it was your words or your clumsy attempt that made her smile, you weren’t sure. Aisha sighed, “Sometimes I wish it was a horror movie.”

She looked at you with a surprised expression, as if she hadn’t expected herself to say that either. “I don’t want to be in a horror movie, of course. Not actually. It’s just nice sometimes to imagine.”

“Escaping the jaws of death?”

Aisha was silent for a bit, as if contemplating whether to say her next words. “No. In the horror movie I meet my end. It’s not dragged out, maybe I’m one of the first ones to go. In either case, by the end of the movie, I’m dead, and when the credits are playing, they forget my name. But that’s just running away.” She looked at you and then at the ground. “I’m sorry, that’s a lot to hear.”

It was. You weren’t sure what to respond but you could see Aisha was suffering, you didn’t like seeing that at all. “You’re away from everything right now, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I am. And I really want to enjoy this, I do. I really do. But I didn’t come here to enjoy myself, I came here to run away, somehow I can’t bring myself to relax at all. I’m sorry.”

…You scooted closer to her. “You’re out here talking with me though, that’s not running away.” Even being able to share something, however small, was still something. You thought for a moment, trying to find the right words:

“Listen, you’re… good.” You’re good? It didn’t get any clumsier than that. “Er, I guess that’s not really what you wanted to hear-“Aisha laughed, the sound comforted you.

“No, no. that’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

“Really? Uh,” Gotta keep up this momentum somehow. “Maybe we’ll go on a trip together again, next year. It’ll be like running away from running away. No, wait, that doesn’t make sense.”

“Pfft, you’re so bad at this.” Aisha laughed, this time her laugh felt a little more genuine and unrestrained. “How am I supposed to feel melancholic with that kind of cheering up? Let’s definitely go on a trip next year. And…Thanks for coming out here and talking with me.”

She stood up, and the air felt a little lighter around her.

“Well, I should get some firewood going.” You said, begrudgingly, and stood up as well. Only for the both of you to be distracted by rustling from the trees and bushes. You blinked. You were from the city, so you weren’t used to a place with wildlife, and while you could hear the sound of birds and insects nonstop as a reminder of their existence, other types of wildlife had been forgotten by you.

You felt as if something watched you from the trees, meaning the animal probably still was there. You crouched and held out your hands, in what you hoped was a disarming gesture.

“Hey,” you said gently, “Sorry did we frighten you? It’s okay, yeah?” Your hushed words seemed to cause a stop in the rustling before the animal decided to outright leave. Your attempts to soothe apparently left a lot to be desired.

You sighed, only to be faced with Aisha staring at you in disbelief. You looked at her questioning.

“Why are you trying to befriend a wild animal? You know there’s coyotes in some parts of the forest, right?” at that you just rolled your eyes.

“Not this part of the forest, else Ms. Browning wouldn’t be renting out a vacation home.”

“Seriously…” Aisha didn’t seem any less exasperated by you. “I’ll help gather the firework, since if a beast attacked you, you might try to talk to it.”

While you didn’t appreciate her claim, you did appreciate the company and additional helping hands, the broom long forgotten. Especially once you arrived at the scattered firewood. While a pain to fix back into a neat stack, it was a relief to feel how dry and crisp the wood was, as if newly cut.

This meant the axe leaning against the woodchipper, would need no use.

“Can you grab the basket?” Aisha asked after having selected the, in her opinion, finest firewood. You looked around but couldn’t find any. “Hm… Maybe we can carry it ourselves?”

At that, the both of you took one look at the firewood you had picked to last throughout the entire night and decided against it. “I’ll go grab something to carry with.” You volunteered.

You slipped inside, your presence going unnoticed by Jake who was too absorbed with cooking and Sara who was busy crying over newly cut onions. Basket, basket, basket… Satisfied you managed to find one in the living room, by the fireplace, which in hindsight felt a little obvious.

You looked out of the window, rolling your eyes playfully after spotting the way Aisha was sneakily rearranging your half of the pile. She had felt it wasn’t neat enough, while you had argued it would all be thrown into a basket either way.

A large figure emerged from the woods, and you froze. The impossibly tall frame, the one that had you convinced it had to have been a tree, there was no way you wouldn’t recognize that. The figure was huge, in every sense of the word, a bulking presence, enveloped by a long jacket.

He turned his head towards the window, and you duck, panicked. But you swore you had seen nothing but white for a moment. You barged into the kitchen once more, catching the attention of Jake and Sara, but any jokes about your explosive entrance died out when they saw your expression.

“What’s wrong?”

“I saw a stranger outside.” You swallowed. “I have a bad feeling about this, he’s-“ Dangerous. You could feel it, if not feel it, you could certainly tell he was capable of being dangerous from his build alone.

“Where’s Aisha?” Sara asked concerned, seeing as she not only hadn’t returned earlier, but wasn’t with you. You confirmed her fears.

“Outside.” You heard a mumbled “fuck”. You wanted to panic and swear as well, but you needed to do something. “Alright, you two, call the police. And I’ll get Aisha back inside.”

“What about the guy?”

“I- he didn’t attack or anything. If I keep acting like I don’t know he’s there, Aisha might be able to get inside. I just have to act natural.” You hoped you sounded confident and reassuring, but even if you didn’t, there wasn’t many other plans being thrown around, so all of you nodded, before you returned to the main entrance.

You opened the door askew, so you could see out but couldn’t be seen.

You needed to call Aisha inside but found yourself hesitating. The words struggling to make it past the lump in your throat. He hadn’t done anything yet, so if you acted like before, then maybe he’d do nothing, it was your best shot at least. Even so, you hands grew clammy as you thought to keep your voice from shaking.

“Hey Aisha!” you called out, watching her from the creek of the door. You worried that if she could see your face, then she’d be able to see your fear, barely concealed. “Could you come help find the basket?”

“Did you check by the fireplace; it might have one?”

“Uh, yeah, I did.”

“Maybe there isn’t one, then? Just come out and we’ll carry i-“

“No! Um, I’m sure, yes. Ms. Browning mentioned a basket at some point,” you interrupted hastily. Worry crept up that you had let panic color your voice in a far too obvious way. You swallowed. “It’ll drive me crazy if I just give up, please, just a quick look?” You pleaded.

“Alright, if it’s that big of a deal to you.” Aisha shrugged. You held your breath as she approached, only able to breathe once she was inside, no looming figure following as far as you could see. She opened her mouth, but you didn’t even let her form words before you spoke.

“Aisha, there’s someone outside.”

Maybe there was more delicate ways to share this fact. Ways that didn’t make her bemused expression shatter like that. But you didn’t have time to navigate that kind of delicacy. Aisha furrowed her brows, tentatively glancing at the door.

She looked back at you, as if hoping to find a trace of insincerity or joking but faltered as she found nothing of the sorts. Neither of you said anything else as you locked the door and joined the others in the living-room.

They had finished their call already and was standing back-to-back. You assumed it was to avoid getting snuck up on, though they were left with two blind sides.

Any words one might have ushered, choked in the tension, and instead all of you stood together silently, anxiously.

None of you knew how long time went before the cop arrived, though it couldn’t have been long. Even so, each moment felt like an eternity, as frazzled nerves turned every sound of the forest into a foreboding sign.

So, at the sound of wheels, all of you hurried to the door. A cop car that looked like something from a period piece, revealed what must have been a lackluster budget at the tiny station. Out of the car, a middle-aged man stepped out, using his hand to move his long hair aside.

“Hey kiddos.” He greeted them as he approached, stopping a little past the firewood. His voice had a condescending tone to it. “I’m Mr. Davidsons, so y’all say you saw a perp?”

“Well, we saw – or, well, they saw – a strange man walking around here.” Aisha explained, stumbling over her words. At this Mr. Davidson lifted an eyebrow, glancing at you briefly.

“Did anyone else actually see someone? Or was it just this one there?” He laughed, it was a somewhat unpleasant sound, grating in the way only an adult’s dismissive tone could be, doubly so given all of you were adults.

“Sir, I’d be happy if it was just me being paranoid but…” Your eyes darted around nervously scanning the area. You wondered if the car alone might have scared him off. “I saw a man. He looked really big and strong.”

Those words didn’t seem to do much in the way of convincing. “You guys city folks? Out here in the country, especially this lively piece of forest, there’s plenty of critters. You probably just saw an ugly bear.” He snorted.

Sara looked about ready to school him but all of you froze when he appeared. This time he didn’t simple stand or walk aimlessly around, he was heading straight towards them, though you couldn’t see his face clearly from his red hair and hunched posture, you spotted glimpses of a white mask.

Mr. Davidson noticed the way all of your attention had shifted, and following your eyes, he faced the hulking mass making his way towards them all.

“Sir, this is the police, stay where you are.” Mr. Davidson said. He was much more serious now that he realized there was someone. He was on guard, his hand ready to draw out his gun, you noticed the way his hand shook, and felt any sense of security vanish, as you watched the pale, sweaty cop attempt to talk down to what felt like a monster of a man.

Similarly, he didn’t seem very convinced by Mr. Davidson either, as he only made a grunting sound and continued his slow gait forward, stray pieces of firewood being kicked out of the way. “Sir, I’m serious. If you continue moving, I’ll consider it contempt of a police officer.”

But he only got closer. Mr. Davidson held out his gun when the man was within arm-reach. A proximity that left your guts churning. However, the man did stop, a fact that made Mr. Davidson breathe a sigh of relief, as the man spread out his arms. Perhaps it was the way it made him look bigger and emphasized the sheer size of his arm muscles and shoulders, but you felt more threatened by it, though Mr. Davidson just nodded in approval at what he perceived as a sign of submission.

And then an axe nestled into Mr. Davidson’s neck.

Someone shrieked, a shrill and piercing sound. Then you realized it was yourself. The man grabbed the axe’s handle, but instead of nestling it free, he forced it to slice through the rest of Mr. Davidson’s neck, freeing the axe.

Mr. Davidson’s head thumped to the ground, rolling slightly.

You felt a pull on your arm, flinching until you realized it was Jake pulling you the last few steps toward the door, before shutting it close, and locking.

“Oh my god, oh my god-“Aisha was breathlessly chanting, intercut with small “what the hell”, unable to provide anything more poignant. Sara, who had been no worse for wear, straightened up at this. She took Aisha’s hand, and though nothing else was said, Aisha seemed to be reeled back to her senses, enough to break up the broken chant.

“We don’t have time to waste.” You said, fishing out your phone. Your hand shook so badly that it took a few tries to unlock. “Call the police?” you asked, which Sara scoffed at.

“Right, that turned out great last time.”

“They didn’t take us seriously last time, but now we got a dead cop on our hands. Who else are we gonna call, the fire department?”

“Please just make the call, before he gets in.” Aisha requested, anxiously looking around, Sara relented with a nod. You only got halfway through dialing the police’s number before it was interrupted by a call, which you accidentally accepted.

“Shoot.”

“Well, hello to you too.” Ms. Browning responded drily.

“Ah, Ms. Browning. Sorry, this isn’t a good time. Actually, could you call the cops?” The less time they had to stay in one place, the better.

“The cops?”

“Yeah, there’s some crazy freak out here, Ms. Browning. He killed a cop!” Jake said panicked. “It’s some huge dude with a mask.”

“After all this time. He’s still…” Ms. Browning didn’t sound surprised, only forlorn.

“What does that mean? Did you… know about him?” At this, Ms. Browning laughed joylessly.

“I left him here in the woods, decades ago. Anyone else would have died. Ah, but not little Trevel. Instead, he grew.” She was quiet for a beat before continuing pensively, her voice distant, “These woods are… Unusual. Things don’t grow right here. Why, my little Trevel was my height by the time he turned five.”

“Trevel?”

“I wasn’t ready for a baby, you see. That’s why… I figured the next year, when I prepared this place for renters, it would be over, no corpse left, no baby left. Just life back to normal. But it wasn’t. He was still here.

He’d stare. Just following dumbly along, staring at everything I did. I couldn’t stand those inquisitive eyes, I didn’t ask for any of that, you know? When he was four, to avoid seeing those cursed eyes, I gave him a mask, told him never to take it off, and what would you know? Seems he grew up right along with the mask.”

“Grew up along the… Huh? Ms. Browning, we’re not following?”

“It couldn’t be taken off, as if it had grown into his face. I suppose it might have, what with his growth spurt and all.” Was all the clarification Ms. Browning gave, as she continued recounting, as if in a daze. “At first, I was… Startled. But you can get used to all manners of things, when the surprise settled, I was just relieved. The mask didn’t have a mouth, so, surely he’d starve to dead.” She lamented. “But no, oh no, not my little Trevel.” There was a bitter edge to her voice. “He was always a good-for-nothing kid, couldn’t even do something as trivial as die.”

Somehow, disgust was all you could feel for Ms. Browning.

“That’s… Horrible.” Aisha said quietly. All of you looked at each other for a moment. Evidently, Ms. Browning agreed to Aisha’s words, sighing deeply.

“So, it is. This was a mistake, returning here like this. I won’t make it again; this’ll be the last time this house is used.”

“You’ll call the cops, right Ms. Browning?”

“Some things are better kept hidden, kiddo. I’m truly sorry but… Goodbye.” And then she hung up. All of you stood in stunned silence for a bit. But you didn’t have time for stunned silence. You began dialing the police’s number again but stopped in your tracks at the sound of weight violently thrown at the door.

“Are you kidding me,” Sara whispered, “We wasted what little time we had on Ms. Browning?!”

As if to answer her question, you were blinded for a moment, as an axe nestled into the door. Then another hit. None of you waited till he was able to enter through the destroyed door, before running. You and Jake hid behind the dresser, while Sara, still holding Aisha’s hand, pulled them into the small pantry-room.

You looked once more at the clumsily written “Trevel” but didn’t have long to look at it before your focus was forced elsewhere, as Trevel himself emerged from the hall, with the sound of his axe dragging against the floor.

You held your breath, as thudding footsteps carried the guy through the room. Your close proximity allowed you to make out that the dirtied jacket enveloping his figure seemed to actually be multiple articles of clothing, sewn crudely together, or… Not sewn, that wasn’t quite right.

There were no stitches or strings to see, despite the clumsy, crude nature, rather, it looked as if the clothes had simply melted together. He turned around, allowing you a clear look at his face.

Or it would have, had his face been visible.

The white you had spotted earlier seemed to have been the mask, which covered his entire face. A white, round mask, decorated only by dirt. You couldn’t see where the mask ended, and his face began.

You felt your phone vibrate against your leg. Taking it out, carefully using your hand to cover the light of the screen, you saw a text from Sara.

Cop car still here. Sneak out.

Right, that’s right. It was still out there. You could drive away. You and Jake were close to the entrance, it was feasible that you’d be able to sneak out as long as Trevel didn’t turn around. The harder challenge was for Sara and Aisha, the pantry-room further into the room.

You shot a quick text back. Me and Jake will go when you reach the dresser.

Slowly, you saw Aisha and Sara emerge from the pantry. Carefully placing each step to avoid the creak of floorboards, trying to move whenever Trevel took another thundering step, to mask their own sounds. Trevel flipped the couch, and you flinched.

Sara and Aisha rounded a corner and reached the kitchen island, receiving a natural cover. Once they made it past the kitchen island, they’d almost be by the dresser. It would be doable to get away. Trevel turned around, and your heart sank as he got closer to the kitchen island.

You still had your phone in your hand, so you tossed it. When it hit the wall, it caught his attention, causing him to stop up and turn around. They just needed to wait, hopefully he’d walk towards the sound… Wait, what are they doing?

Sara tugged on Aisha’s hand, and they began sneaking away under Trevel’s inattentiveness, an arm reach away from him. Trevel lifted his foot, and you felt relief, he was going to investigate your bait. The relief was visible on Jake’s face as well, Sara had made it past the kitchen island, Aisha not far behind, and then…

A crass, clicking sound.

Aisha had stepped on the remains of a shattered plate.

A large hand shot out, grabbing Aisha’s face, forcing her glasses to shift awkwardly and press into her face. When he lifted his arm, you witnessed the way Aisha’s entire body were left to dangle helplessly in the air, forcibly separating her and Sara’s hands, and then… He tightened his grip.

The glasses bent and broke, glass and frames cutting into her skin, and her skin seemed to cave under his fingers, blood pooling around them as they sunk into flesh, white bones protruding through skin as if pushed away from their rightful spot.

Aisha’s whimpers and cries of pain were replaced by a painful gurgling as her nose caved into her mouth. After a while, her body stopped moving at all. And he simply let go of her, her limp body falling to the ground awkwardly.

It had all happened too fast for any of you to react, but the sound of her body hitting the floor brought you all to action, running as fast as you could. Though he pursued, it was a relief to know all of you were faster.

You swung the doors open once you reached the car, able to see Trevel’s silhouette move through the windows of the entrance. “What’s the hold up, Jake?”

At that question, Jake looked up at them. “There’s no key.”

What. If it wasn’t in the car, then that meant…

Instinctively all of you looked at Mr. Davidson’s headless corpse. And only a few meters behind, stood the hulking figure of Trevel, having reached the door.

“I’ll go get the keys.” Sara said, to which you and Jake shook your head furiously. “Please, back in the kitchen, I pulled Aisha too fast, and she… Let me do this, okay? I am the fastest, after all.” She said with a weak smile. You didn’t have the heart to point out the tears in her eyes.

Sara made a dash towards Mr. Davidson’s body, basically throwing herself at him. Trevel, similarly, made his way towards her. It was true that Sara was faster than him but that meant very little with such a small distance.

She fumbled through Mr. Davidson’s pockets, when he descended upon her. A sickening crunch as his foot crushed her ankle. Sara howled in pain. Then he moved further up, delivering a stomp to her back, pressing her against the corpse.

You could have sworn you saw the mushy flesh of Mr. Davidson give in, but maybe it was just your imagination adding to the wet, snapping sounds mixed with that same sickening crunch. Even so, she still desperately clawed at Mr. Davidson’s pockets.

You didn’t have time to react when he had gotten Aisha, but there was no way you’d just watch now.

You jumped out of the car, and though you didn’t look, you could hear the sound of Jake following along. Finding one of the larger wood pieces, you charged at him.

You swung the wood at him with all your might, but he barely seemed to notice, instead shoving you away like a pesky fly. You were flung to the side, and crashed into something hard and metallic, the sudden loud humming noises suggested it had been turned on.

You felt a sharp pain in your foot, having landed on it wrong, and struggled to stand up again, leaning against the machine, that turned out to be the woodchipper, for support.

Meanwhile, Sara had fished out the keys but with Trevel looming above her, reaching out, she didn’t wait for his next move. It wasn’t a meaningful act of defiance or defense, but an act of someone too close to the jaws of a predator to escape, but close enough to rip and tear. Sara flew towards Trevel, grabbing onto the edges of his mask.

Trying to tear the mask off. You didn’t know what had gone through Sara’s head as her fingers to the corner of face – and you assumed, the mask – you only knew that she gasped and let go as if on instinct. “But… It’s a mask?” she feebly whispered, confusion on her face.

Though Sara had lost her grip, there was no chance of falling as Trevel held onto her, drawing her closer. Sara struggled but was rendered immobile by the tight grip. Even from the sidelines, it was easy to see the way the grip tightened, to hear the sound of metal bending as Sara’s accessories caved under the pressure, the way her breathing grew ragged and wheezing, hear the sounds of bones and joints snapping.

You had managed to get up but was struggling to keep balance, that wasn’t the case for Jake who was ready to rush at them. Sara, through ragged, bloody breaths, yelled for him to stop, forcing her awkwardly bending arm to shoot out, throwing him the keys.

Jake looked between Sara, who had taken to wildly flailing, punching, clawing, till her fingers were left bloody, and you. He stood there for a second before, with a conflicted expression, running to you, Neither of you looked as Sara’s pained sounds turned to gurgles, or when she stopped making sounds altogether, instead Jake dragged you to the car.

” We’ve been outrunning that freak the entire night, so…” He swallowed and steadied his breath before continuing, trying to be strong, as if he wasn’t as shaken up as you were. “If we just make it to the car, everything will be okay. If we can outrun him on legs, then we can outrun him on wheels.”

Even as you heard Sara’s body being dropped, Jake didn’t let go of you, making sure you got into the car. He didn’t even circle around the car, simply crawled over you, and into the driver’s seat. He put in the keys. You could see Trevel’s bloodied mask, the remnant of Sara’s vomit.

The engine coughed. Jake hit his hand against the steering wheel. And then, the car started. You laughed, not out of joy but from the adrenaline pumped relief. The car moved backwards, Trevel’s charging figure growing smaller.

“Fuck yeah!” Jake hollered out. “An old, stubborn car but you got the job done, hah!”

None of you mentioned Sara. None of you could bear to. Not yet.

“Jake, we’re going to have to turn around.” You said, looking behind at the countless sturdy trees. It was a narrow, winding road. They wouldn’t be able to do it backwards. Jake cursed under his breath.

“It’s okay. I don’t need to drive all the way back to the house to have enough room, just a bit closer.” He said reassuringly, you weren’t sure who he was trying to reassure. The dull, warm pain in your foot only seemed to grow.

Jake drive forward but before the house even came back into view, from the shadow-covered bushes, a large figure emerged, only meters away. You weren’t sure if Jake intentionally rammed into him or weren’t able to stop the car in time, but the hood of the car hit the figure with a loud thud.

And he hadn’t budged. You could vaguely make out a huge dent in the now-still car, and the small, sad stutters the car made from the impact. The large figure reached behind his back, but his body remained completely still, fixated on them.

Jake’s hands were shivering; “Jesus chr-“

“No time for prayers.” You interrupted, shifting in your seat to grab the reverse gear and stump on the brake pedal, pain shooting up your leg, the car moved backwards in a sudden jolt. Trevel held up his axe. He lifted it into the air, and as the car began to move away, he swung it into the hood.

The car were making concerning wheezing noises but by now, Jake’s adrenaline had returned to spur him into action, and he forced the car to continue. To your shared horror, the car didn’t budge. The wheels spinning helplessly as the car was kept in place.

Then he pulled the axe closer, dragging the car closer with a screech. You and Jake didn’t even exchange glances as you both flung your respective car doors open, jumping out. Jake couldn’t make it over to you, without Trevel who stood in front of the car, making it to you, so you both ran on your own, even as your foot ached and bent oddly, a searing fire spreading.

But you noticed, Jake hadn’t run away from Trevel and the house, but towards the house. It was a long travel to make it to any actual road and it was getting very dark, was that why? But even so, Jake had a phone on him, still – unlike you.

You didn’t know why he hadn’t run that way, but you changed your own course, rushing to him. You couldn’t be separated now. Not after Aisha and Sara. Jake, disorientated from the crash, was losing his speed advantage, the distances between the two far too little for comfort, as Jake had reached the firewood pile.

You made eye contact with Jake, whose eyes widened. “What are you doing? Run away, I’m buying time!”

So that was why. He had just hoped you wouldn’t notice in time. But the moment of distraction meant Trevel, who was steadily becoming the fastest of the two, caught up to him. He grabbed onto him, and you half-expected him to crush him like he had Aisha and Sara, instead, he shoved Jake against the woodchipper.

As Jake’s arm and shoulder disappeared into the machine, his face twisted into a pained grimace, and a red mist of blood, minced meat, and viscera descended from the machine with splintered bone shards like macabre snowflakes. You didn’t even think as you continued running, you should have had half-the-mind to at least curse yourself out for wasting the sacred seconds he had sacrificed.

Yet all you could think was you needed to get him out. Only as his face were pressed against the machine, did you stop up. You felt your stomach churning as the metallic smell coated the air. Trevel seemed to spend a moment just looking at the shredded innards and minced remains of Jake.

Then he flexed his finger around his axe and turned towards you. So, you ran.

But you had gotten too close, so running in the opposite direction of him meant running towards the house. Going past the house would mean venturing further into the forest, further away from any civilization. You didn’t fancy your chances with coyotes, and you didn’t fancy your chances with Trevel.

Maybe that instinctive desire to escape to something civil made you run into the house to hide, you’d like to think it was a strategic choice, somehow. But you knew that wasn’t the case, you just sought the familiarity.

Inside the house, you dashed upstairs, worried he’d be able to break down a wall or window in any room downstairs. You could hear him by the time you closed the door, and for a second debated if it was best to be silent and hide, but then again, you didn’t have many hiding places in this room.

What you did have was a dresser. So, knowing how it would lead him upstairs, you desperately pushed the dresser in front of the door. Then the bed. Anything you could get hold of in the room was pushed in front of the door.

And then you scurried to the other end of the room, trying to ignore the fiery burn of your foot. You heard his approach but still jumped when the axe cut into the wooden door. Your breath grew ragged, as his masked face showed through the cracks.

You didn’t know what you had hoped for from this barricade. It wasn’t a surprise that filled you, when the furniture moved along as he shoved the door. Even so, the world seemed to blur out the second he stepped into the room, from ruined and moved furniture that now seemed more a barricade for you than him.

Your heartbeat rang out, thump thump. He was closing in with heavy footsteps. Thump, thud, thump, thud. Even with the mask, you felt his eyes on you. Thump, thud, thump, thud. You could see his fingers flex around the axe.

Grasping at straws, you shifted between staring at him and around you, for anything you could use. Behind him, a now ruined dresser stood. Its familiar look made you realize it was identical to the one downstair. “It’s an ugly name, fit for ugly boys.”

…It was worth a shot, right?

“My,” your voice were shaky, “What a handsome guy you are.”

Was that how she said it? He stopped dead in his tracks. He was so close; you could touch him if you reached out. The air felt crushing, under the weight of silence. Then, he crouched down. Your shivers stopped, frozen.

He leaned closer. His free hand on the floor to support his weight as he leaned closer. Your eyes flickered to the axe. He was still holding it.

“I,” your voice cracked but you forced yourself to continue, “I didn’t get a good look before. But, really, you are handsome. Big and strong.”

He was close. You could smell the lingering scent of sweat and pine. Hear the deep rumbling hum he made. Feel his warmth breath. From where it came, you weren’t sure.

God, what else? What else did Mr. Browning say?

Suddenly, a hand reached out and you flinched. He had let go of the axe. And yet, you had seen what he could do with his hands. Your breath were stuck in your throat, as you braced yourself. But his hand only lingered near your cheek.

Not quite touching, but close enough for you to feel the warmth of his fingertips. This… Was a good sign, right? He was hesitating, he didn’t do that with the others. He didn’t do that with Aisha. The anxiety buzzing didn’t ease, the gory memory playing relentlessly in your head.

In your mind you envisioned the way his hand could still decide to grab onto you harshly. So, gently with fingers that shook far too much, you touched his hand. His head made a sharp movement, causing you to flinch, but he didn’t stop you.

So, you lead his rugged, scarred hand closer to your cheek, closing the small gap. His fingers stiffly on your cheek, which was better than lingering above your face. Like playing dolls, you hoped positioning him into a less hostile position would have any effect.

You looked at each other for a while in deafening silence. You were worried about losing the temporary fascination, the stiffness of his body warning you that you weren’t quite safe yet. What is it that worked so far? What does he want to hear?

…

“You’re good, Trevel. You’re good.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond or react. Then the touch seemed to melt, his finger brushing against your cheek. Not pleasant or even soft, but you could tell he was trying, or maybe he was just exploring? You didn’t dare to move, worried you’d set him off.

By the time his hand dropped down, light had begun to filter through the tree leaves, and exhaustion clinging to you. Trevel seemed placated, simply staring wordlessly at you.

Cautiously, you stood up. You could feel the way he followed your every movement. But it felt like a curious gaze, like a dog equally confused and curious about its owner’s actions. You weren’t sure if he’d be okay with you leaving, but if you could buy yourself some time, perhaps you’d be able to get to a road and hitchhike.

“I’ll just go fetch something, if that’s okay?” You asked carefully, taking a demonstrative step towards the door.

Swish

Past your head, the axe flew, nestling into the door. Before you even could look back at him, he grabbed your wrist and tugged you toward the floor, a little too harshly for your injured foot, where he returned to simply stare at you, growling whenever you moved too much.

Life was far away, and by god, you hoped it would someday catch up to you again.

#yandere #yandere x reader #dead dove do not eat #tw death #tw violence #It's a little embarrassing to reread the story #It's way too obvious that I didn't plan the story out (and natural dialogue and lore-reveal? Don't know 'em)#but that aside #did have fun with it #I should watch a slasher soon #havent revisited the genre for years #despite my yearly pledge to finally watch texas chainsaw massacre

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wardenparker · 1 year

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Sassenach and the Spaniard - ch 14

Pero Tovar x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

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

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ just like this blog Word Count: 18.1k Warnings: **Blanket warnings for this fic include cursing, food mentions, references to previous sexual assault (multiple characters).** Pero versus the modern world, reader being an absolute cat mom, discussion of past lives, implications of past lives, wedding talk (I’m not sorry), more dubious Spanish. Vaginal sex, unprotected sex, outdoor sex, public sex, clothed sex, Summary: Building a modern life with Pero may have ups and downs, but the way he adjusts shows just how glad he is to be with you again. Notes: This is it, folx! The last chapter of Sassenach and Pero’s love story for the literal ages. Look out for the epilogue next week and then we’ll be moving on to the ✨6th✨ installment of the Soulmate universe!

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

Travel has changed. Pero exhales quietly when you stop your car - a different one than you had driven him around in first time. It had been a conversation about renting cars that he vaguely understood but just figured it was like borrowing a horse. The plane taking off had left him white knuckled and shaking and he didn’t know how people acted like it was normal. Although once you were in the air, it had become a smooth experience and he still couldn’t believe that he had traveled so far so quickly.

“Well…this is it. Home sweet home.” The apartment building you’ve been living in for years has looked the same since the day you moved in, and the off-white walls and brick trim are comforting after all these years. “Our apartment is on the fifth floor,” you tell him, pointing up at a set of windows with blue curtains and some plants visible on the inside of the sill. “Beth will be home from work in about a half hour. Which will give you time to meet your new cat roommate.”

It amuses Pero that you have a cat in this time as well. “Binx missed you.” He hums with a smirk on his face. “But she was happy with Wena when I left.” The building is huge, and he cannot imagine living so high, but it will provide a clear view of the surroundings.

“She was the best familiar I could have asked for. I guess I’m just not happy unless I have a mouser in the house.” You pop the trunk of your little car and reach in for the bags but Pero is there before you, lifting both bags easily and shooting you a sour expression for even thinking he would let you do otherwise. After seeing other men do the same at various places and in the airport there had been an explanation of the term ‘chivalry’ and he was appalled that you had not told him that he was expected to behave this way in your time. You had insisted that it wasn’t necessary, but he hadn’t let you lift anything beyond your own purse since.

The compartment on this car was most convenient and Pero slams it shut, shooting you a slightly sheepish look when it was too harsh. Shouldering the bags, he turns towards the building. “It does not have defenses.” He mutters to himself, remembering you say that there is no need for fortifications in your time. “Where is the stable for the horses, the animals?”

“People who have horses keep them separately. It is a luxury now. Almost everyone has a car but keeping horses is mostly for the rich.” The lobby of your building is accessible by a keypad that you punch a code into, and the mailman inside greets you with familiarity. Pete has been the postman for this building longer than you’ve lived here, so you smile reassuringly at Pero and introduce him to the kindly mid-50s man who brings the post every day. “Name on the mailbox will be changing soon,” you tell Pete with pride.

Pero watches the interaction with interest. He’s had to watch you, his own demeanor not very welcoming. He can tell that he cannot be quite so intimidating or threatening in this time.

“Pete’s a nice man.” You press the button for the elevator to bring you upstairs and lean into Pero’s side while you wait. “His wife throws this big Passover Seder every year and a giant Hanukkah party on the first night and they invite people that he knows from work. I used to go with Beth every year so she wouldn’t have to go alone. But I have a feeling she and Will will be throwing the parties now.” Your best friend and her soulmate are definitely those kinds of people - the hosts with the most, as you like to tease them. You won’t be surprised at all when Beth finally announces that she’s moving in with him.

Pero nods, recognizing the holidays from the communities that he had grown up around in Spain. “That sounds like a good thing. There was food and music and laughter every time I went to one.” He only remembers them with the innocence of youth, but it was always fun. His parents were happy and it makes him smile.

“Here we go.” The elevator doors open and you step forward, bringing him with you by the hand. “You flew in an airplane, this should be easy,” you tell him encouragingly. “You just press the floor number that you want to go to, and the elevator will lift or lower us to that floor.”

This is even more amazing than the stairs that moved on their own. His eyes widen and he grunts when the car lurches up and he grabs onto the side of the wall as the sensation of being lifted once again races through his stomach. “It will only take a minute.” The way he’s clutching the wall and your hand makes you smile and squeeze his hand gently in response.

“It is— so…sudden.” Pero huffs slightly, embarrassed that he is so affected by things that seem so normal to you and everyone else. “I will become accustomed to it.”

“And if you don’t like it, we can always take the stairs.” Five floors is a lot, but with so many things to adjust to, you wouldn’t begrudge Pero deciding that there are some that he doesn’t like or isn’t comfortable with.

He glowers at you slightly, taking it as an insult that he would not be man enough to handle this box you have him in. “No.”

“Okay.” All you can really do is nod, knowing the both of you have your stubborn moments like anyone else. Although maybe more often. When you get out of the elevator you show him down the hall, stopping in front of the door marked 5C. “This is it,” You tell him, pulling your key from your pocket. “I already sent the landlord a note asking for a key for you. It should be made for tomorrow. So you can come and go anytime you like.”

Pero looks at the key, frowning in concentration as he watches you use it. He doesn’t understand why a bar on the door is not good enough anymore, but he just considers it a modern thing and nods when the door swings open.

The agonized screaming of an obviously neglected, dramatic-as-hell cat is the very first sound you hear, and both you and Pero smile reflexively. “Hi, Bow-baby!” You laugh when the black and white cat comes trotting into view. “Mama brought you a new friend.”

The first gato had been wary of Pero, watching him with intelligent, wary eyes. This one is the complete opposite. The moment the fat black and white cat spots Pero, it’s like you do not exist. He makes a beeline for Pero, screaming his head off and immediately climbing his leg to get into the Spaniard’s arms. Apparently telling him about every wrong done to him as Pero blinks in bewilderment.

“Oh, I see how it is. Furry little traitor.” You grouse only for comedic effect, loving to see your usually picky cat go straight to your soulmate for attention. “It’s okay, amor. You can pick him up. He’s much cuddlier than Binx was.”

Reaching down, Pero pulls the cat up into his arms, rewarded with immediate head butts and the cat rubbing his scent all over him while purring loud enough to sound like the thundering of hooves. “It seems he likes you.” And it seems Pero returns the affection, or at least doesn’t hate it, from the way he is already scratching under Bowie’s chin and letting the cat inspect him fully.

His time with Binx is so recent in his mind that he doesn’t mind the affectionate cat. “At least you were not alone when you came home, bruja.”

“Not at all.” Leading him through to the back bedroom, you realize what a whirlwind you were in the morning you got the phone call from Sarah at the roadside. There is a mess left behind and you clear your throat slightly, obviously embarrassed. “This is our room…I, erm…I usually keep it neater than this…I was kind of in a hurry to get to you a few days ago…”

“I have lived in your bed before, sí?” Pero reminds you, unconcerned with mussed bedding and clothes thrown around. It does not matter to him, as long as you are here. “Does your ’roommate’ know what has happened? That I am here?”

“Yes.” That had happened immediately. As soon as you had hung up with him and Sarah, you had started texting Beth frantically. “She knows everything. I just don’t know how much she’s told Will — her soulmate.”

Pero hums, wondering if it would seem crazy to a man who had not witnessed your return like your friend had. He has to thank Beth for saving you when you came back through the Stones, getting you a healer.

“I mean, he knows about you,” you clarify quickly. “Beth doesn’t keep anything from him, including what happened to me. I just don’t know if she’s told him yet that you came home with me.” It had taken over a month for Will to stop looking at you like you might have a nervous breakdown at any second, but the discovery of Arwena’s grimoire among your grandmother’s things had been a convincing argument. After that, he had started to come around to the craziness of it all.

He grunts, holding the cat still as he looks around your room. It is all different from the room he had stayed in at the inn, but it must reflect you in your own time. Like your cottage had in his time.

“We’ll make it into both of our space.” For some reason his silence is making you nervous, even though grunts and huffs are practically a second language for Pero. “Or, if you hate it here, we can…we can find something else. I don’t really care as long as you’re happy.”

"Why would I hate it?" Pero asks, turning towards you with a quizzical expression on his face. "This is you." One hand leaves the cat to wave around the room. "All of this. It is – it is like your cottage. Telling me who you are here."

“I don’t know.” You shrug slightly, looking around and avoiding his eyes as you move to make space for his clothes in your dresser. “I just know that everything here is so different and I wouldn’t blame you in the least if you didn’t like it here.” It’s nerves, you tell yourself, trying to steady your own breathing. Bringing him home - to your actual home - is the scariest thing you’ve ever done. Even though he chose to come here, he didn’t really know what he was choosing until after he arrived.

Pero huffs, rolling his eyes at you. "Sí, it is much different, but I don't care." He tells you bluntly. "I want to be where you are, when you are. The only thing that will change that is if you no longer wish me here." You are unsettled and he doesn't like it. He doesn't want you to worry about him.

“Of course I want you here.” The idea that you ever wouldn’t is so unbelievable that you actually can’t even imagine it. “I’m sorry. This is just…I know it’s hard for you. And don’t tell me that it isn’t just to make me feel better, because I’ve also time traveled.” Shaking your head slightly, you come back across the room and take a very indignant Bowie out of his arms so you can situate yourself there instead. “I love you, and I’m happy that you’re here.”

"It is different." Pero hums, not denying that he is out of his element. "But I am warm, I have food in my belly, and you are here." He reminds you. "I am a simple man, maybe too simple in your time, but I am who I am."

“There’s nothing simple about having your needs met. Survival is still very hard for some people.” Holding on to him tightly, you blow out a breath when you hear the front door open and Bowie hiss dramatically from the hallway. “Sounds like Beth is home,” you laugh, knowing that a cursing match between your best friend and grumpy cat is all but assured each and every day. “Would you like to meet her?”

"Will she approve?" He asks, suddenly nervous. You had spoken about this Beth woman and how much she had meant to you. Now he is afraid that he might not live up to her approval.

“You have nothing to worry about.” If anything, Beth is endlessly curious about Pero. She has been hearing about him for months, and you doubt you’ve done any description of him justice.

He would do anything you want, including meeting your friend so he just nods and wipes his hands on his new jeans. The shoes you had bought him, ‘sneakers’, were comfortable and he rocks on them slightly.

“Bethy!” Calling her name out into the hall, you step out of your room with Pero’s hand tangled in yours. “We’re home.”

Pero holds your hand tight, eyes widening slightly when he hears a screeching that is undoubtably excited and hears the pounding of foot steps rushing towards the two of you.

“Wait wait wait wait wait!” But you’re already cackling as your best friend launches herself at you, practically jumping up into your arms excitedly. “I missed you, too,” you laugh, hugging Beth tightly.

It is exuberant, the type of greeting Pero had seen Arwena give you during those last lessons in the cottage before having to flee. He can’t help but grin at the sight as he folds his arms over his chest and tries to smother it so he can look serious.

"Beth." You're both still giggling, but you try to compose yourself long enough to talk. "This," you motion to the man beside you as Beth sets herself on her own two feet again. "Is Pero. Pero, this is my best friend, Beth."

Pero nods to the woman who you call your best friend. It’s shocking to see her, because she looks nothing like he had imagined from your glow descriptions of her. She is pretty, but doesn’t hold a candle to you. “Señorita.” He murmurs.

"The famous Pero Tovar." Beth is practically vibrating with excitement, truly not having thought that this day would ever come. Though she believed your story completely, she never really thought that your soulmate would be able to come through the Stones. When you had texted her a few days ago that he was successful, she had been in a state of near shock all morning. "Welcome to the twenty-first century."

Pero grunts, his lips twisting slightly and there is an amused gleam in his eyes. “Yes, where green and purple hair is now common.” He jokes, having asked you questions about the wild shades he has seen. Beth is sporting bright blue streaks in her black hair.

"Surely you can adjust to multi-colored hair in a world that also has every flavor of ice cream you can imagine." Beth grins. You had told her about Pero's brand new addiction to ice cream, and his unfortunate first encounter with brain freeze as a result.

He huffs, smirking slightly at her sass and nods. “It is more colorful.” He admits, not minding it at all and asking if you liked colors like that.

"Did you get screamed at by her demon child on the way in?" Beth asks, shaking her head on a grin. Bowie has unceremoniously disappeared, probably to his scratching tree in the living room.

“Gato?” Pero asks, sending you a confused look. “The cat is very loving.” He insists when Beth nods. The cat was very greedy for attention and was not happy when you took him away from Pero.

"Bowie and Beth aren't huge fans of each other," you tell him with a grin, seeing the frustrated twist on your best friend's face that your cat has clearly taken to Pero immediately.

"He's a menace!" She insists, throwing up her hands dramatically.

"He's a darling angel and my fluffy little son." You insist, knowing full well how ridiculous it sounds.

“He came right up to me and demanded to be held.” Pero tells her, watching her eyes widen and he can practically see the steam pouring out of her ears.

"Menace," she mutters again, shaking her head. At this point, though, she has somewhat of a sense of humor about it. If she didn’t, she'd have lost her mind at that cat a long time ago.

"So, are we seeing Will tonight?" Turning the topic away from your cat and onto her soulmate always perks her up, and you motion toward the living room to suggest a change of scenery. This way you can all at least be comfortable in the same space together.

“Will…” Pero murmurs the name, a flash of nostalgia for his friend from so long ago. “I knew a man named William once. His bow was—” Pero chuckles. “We had a lot of free drinks showing off his skills.”

"William was your best friend." Beth nods. "She...she told me all about you. You, and Arwena, and Briac. You're practically all she's talked about since she came back."

“That is—” Pero is surprised that you had talked so much about him, but his chest puffs out slightly in pride. “I can’t imagine there is much to have talked about.”

"Are you kidding?" In the living room, Beth kicks off her shoes and takes out her phone as she sits down in the armchair to let you and Pero sit together on the couch. "Adventure after adventure. And fighting monsters on the Great Wall of China? It's incredible." She smiles when her phone buzzes in her pocket, and then again more broadly when she taps the screen to open her text. "Um...so Will is finishing up at work and wants to know if he can bring over take-out to say 'welcome home'."

"It's up to you," you tell Pero honestly. Your internal clocks are five hours ahead of schedule thanks to jetlag and you'll end up crashing earlier than Beth and Will, but you don't want to overwhelm Pero with meeting more people after a full day of modern travel if that is going to exhaust him.

Pero immediately nods. “This is your home and he is your soulmate.” The feeling of being apart from you with the possibility of never seeing you again had made him wish that partners could never be parted. “But— what is ‘take out’?” He asks.

"Take out is ordering food from a restaurant but instead of eating it there, you bring it home with you." Leaning into his side on the couch, you shoot Beth a mischievous grin. "Ask him if Chinese is okay. We can put in an order to the place on the corner if he doesn't mind picking it up for us on his way over."

Pero’s eyes light up. “Chinese?” He demands, nodding quickly. “Yes. That—you told me about it. I want to eat that.” He nearly begs. “And ice cream.”

"There's Häagen-Dazs in the freezer." Beth shoots Pero a grin. "I picked some up as soon as your girl said you fell in love with it." She taps out a quick reply to her own soulmate, smiling all the while, and then opens a different app to order food. "Anything special I should add to our regular order?"

"Yeah..." You grin at Pero. "Spicy noodles and mandarin beef. And an extra order of fried dumplings." Since your 'usual' order is already quite large this should be enough food for lunch again tomorrow, but Pero has a way of making that food supply dwindle that you don't mind. It's not as though food was ever plentiful enough in his life before for him to eat his fill.

“There was this dish.” Pero tell her. “Roasted bird – duck, with a honey sauce on it.” He doesn’t know if they would have it now, but maybe. His mouth waters as he remembers it. “Do they have that too?”

"Peking duck?" Beth nods, mouth watering immediately. "It's my favourite. We're absolutely ordering one." Hell, if she could she'd be adding bottles of plum wine and enough fried ice cream for it not to matter that there's six different flavours of Häagen-Dazs already waiting in the freezer to be consumed.

“Yes. That.” Pero nods, nearly rubbing his hands together as he thinks about the tender and juicy meat. “It was the meal we had when we celebrated defeating the monsters.”

"It might be slightly different than you remember...being a thousand years later and all of that." Beth adds the duck to the order and ignores the growing total, knowing that this meal is a celebration all its own. "I'm glad that there are some things that transcend time, though. Delicious food being one of them."

“Food is food.” Pero huffs. “Some is better washed down with ale to ignore the taste. Some is good with water.”

“Food can be pleasurable.” Beth smirks as she gets up from her chair to grab a drink from the kitchen. “Especially when licked from the correct surface.”

Pero narrows his eyes before he leans over to you. “She is talking about—” He flushes slightly. “That thing that you told me about?”

“It doesn’t have to be chocolate syrup,” you chuckle softly at his reaction, knowing how crass he can be when he wants to. “I just suggested that because you love chocolate.”

“I do love chocolate.” Pero groans, reaching out and pulling you close. “And it would taste sweeter from your skin.”

“I guess you’ll have to make sure you save room for dessert then, won’t you?” The salacious wink you give him is met with a grin and you don’t hesitate to steal a kiss. “It’s a damn good thing we always have chocolate sauce in the fridge.”

He growls quietly and tugs you closer, not happy with such a brief kiss. “Bruja.” He hisses playfully, nipping your lip.

Pulled directly into his lap, you stifle a giggle and do your best to look very, very serious as you drag your knuckles along his jaw. “I thought you like that I’m a bruja?” You tease, knowing very well that he had said the words himself on more than one occasion.

“Never doubt that, mi sol.” Pero murmur, leaning into your touch and his eyes flutter quickly. “It is why you could come to me. His hands squeeze your ass possessively. “And why I am here now.”

“Does that make you a brujo? Is that even a word?” Whether it is or not, you’re just glad Beth hasn’t come back from the kitchen yet since your hips seem to grind down on his automatically at the grip of his large hands.

Pero snorts and shakes his head. “No.” He leans forward and drags his nose along your throat, pressing kisses with his lips along your warm skin. It does, but he is not going to admit that. Preferring to distract you.

“Pero…” He has this way of making your skin tingle everywhere and your eyelashes flutter when he kisses that part of your throat that has you whining in no time - and it’s nearly impossible to remind yourself that there is someone else in the apartment right now. “Estas siendo travieso, mi amor.” You’re being naughty, my love.

“Me gusta ser travieso.” I like being naughty. Pero grins against your skin and leans back to send you a smug wink. “I have not had enough of you.”

“If you’re gonna fuck on the couch, please put a towel down first.” Beth snorts, standing in the doorway with a glass of ginger ale in her hand and a smirk painted across her face.

“I promise,” you huff, cheeks more than a little warm with embarrassment as Pero’s fingers dig a little more into your hips.

Pero grunts and gives Beth a small shrug. “I will fuck her with your towel down then.” He agrees. “We will wait until you are not here.”

“Oh, I don’t care about that, I just don’t want to be watching tv in a pile of dry cum.” She shrugs matter-of-factly and steps back, waving as she goes. “I’ll be in my room until my boyfriend gets here! Have fun!”

Pero smirks as he admires your friend’s teasing, which has you looking as if you want to melt into the floor in embarrassment. “What is ’boyfriend’?” He’s learned that if he doesn’t understand something, it’s best to ask right away. “Is that what you call soulmates now?”

“Sort of?” Still perched in his lap, you turn your full attention back to Pero and shrug off Beth’s teasing. “A boyfriend is a man that you are having a relationship with, but you have not yet agreed to be married. Like when Arwena and Briac used to spend time at the cottage with us, I would have said they were ’boyfriend and girlfriend’ back then.”

Pero scowls slightly and shakes his head. “They have not agreed to wed? Why do they wait? They are soulmates.”

“Some people like to take their time with important life decisions, and some people dive right into them. It’s all personal preference.” Of course, his visa - no matter how legally or illegally it was obtained for you - does put you on a bit of a schedule. But 90 days is nothing for two people who are already married. The modern paperwork is merely a formality.

“There is more freedom in this time.” Pero admits. “For women. I can see that.”

“There is. But we still don’t have all the freedoms that men do.” Gender politics isn’t really top of your list for a discussion right now, though, and you tuck a stray hair behind his ear affectionately. “Honestly? I don’t think they will wait too much longer before they get engaged.”

“What is this William like?” Pero asks, sensing you aren’t enamored with the conversation.

“He’s a good man.” That much you can say without hesitation. “Competitive but caring, loyal, and very helpful. And he makes Beth happy, which is what matters most to me.”

Pero nods and squeezes your ass again. There have been a lot of changes for him, but for you as well. “She likes me, sí?” He asks, suddenly nervous that the reason Beth left was because she did not like him.

“If she didn’t, she would still be here interrogating you like a criminal.” You dip your head, kissing him softly and feeling the heat of just a few minutes ago melt away into sweetness and reassurance. “You have nothing to fear, amor.”

“I feel like a brat.” Pero complains, hating the unsettled way that he feels. He knows it’s because everything is different for him, and that he relies on you to make sure that he navigates this world properly. Still, he feels like he is a boy who knows nothing of the world.

“You have been in this world for only four days, love.” The frown on his face isn’t his usual scowl, but something far more sincere that makes you soften and sit back in his lap with your brows knit together. “I know it’s frustrating. Truly I understand. But you’re doing wonderfully. No one could learn an entirely new life in just four days.”

He sighs, knowing you’ve seen his true meaning. “I know, but I should be able to.” He insists, being stubborn about it. “Perhaps I need to write things down.” You had started his writing and Wena had continued it during the year without you.

“Would you like a notebook for your thoughts?” A journal isn’t a terrible idea at all, actually, and you wonder that you didn’t think of it before. “We can certainly do that for you.”

“Paper is not costly anymore, is it?” He asks, amused at everything they considered luxuries in his time are common objects.

“Not anymore.” You shake your head, still smiling at him softly. You really just can’t help yourself. “And we have pencils now. Instead of ink, you write with something called graphite, which can be erased if you make a mistake.”

“Next you will tell me that scars can be removed.” Pero chuckles, not imagining such a thing to be possible. But then again, he never imagined things like a car or a plane. It makes him wonder about weapons.

“Welll…” The best you can do is shrug sheepishly. “In a way, yes. They can. It is expensive, but there are surgeons - special healers - that can do it.”

He tilts his head, thoughtful as he brushes the apple of your cheek and his thumb caresses the bottom of your scar. “Have you thought of such things?” He asks curiously. He knows scars are different for women than men, but he wants to know if you are trying to hide it here like you first had when he saw you.

“Why would I hide the marks that we share?” Nothing in the world could be less desirable to you, especially when he is here in front of you for you both to see the proof that you belong together.

“I do not see why.” Pero admits, but he leans in and kisses your brow, where the scar causes your hair to not grow. “But I am different from you.” He hums.

“Would you prefer to remove your scars?” It’s a decision that would be entirely up to him, although you have to admit it would surprise you. While Pero is proud, he has never struck you as particularly vain.

“No.” Pero immediately shakes his head. “I have noticed that women in this time are very…adorned.” He murmurs. “They wear a lot of face paint and put a lot of value on their beauty. I do not wish you to be upset because of what that bastard did to you.”

“I don’t care what anyone else thinks.” Certainly you’ve gotten more than your fair share of funny looks in the last six months, but it doesn’t bother you as much as you thought it might. Your scar shows you have survived. It’s as simple as that. “As long as you love me, that is all that matters.”

“Siempre.” Pero murmurs, turning his head to kiss you again. Always.

The knock on the door keeps things from getting carried away, and Beth buzzes past in the hallway to let William inside with dinner. She’s practically squeaking with excitement - never one to hide how she feels about anything - and you climb out of Pero’s lap reluctantly to take the heavy bags of take-out from his hands. Dinner sounds great, but you’ll definitely be saving room to have Pero for dessert later on.

The smells take him back. To that large dining hall filled with soldiers. Closing his eyes, he can almost see the wooden tables ladened down with bowls of rice and plates of bread, the fragrant meats and vegetables to be spooned over the top. It was probably the best he had ever eaten as a man until your cottage. He’s taken back to China as he inhales, so when he opens his eyes, they settle on the man who had brought the food and he gasps. “William!”

“Oh! Uh…hello!” Will isn’t sure what the expectation is in this situation, but he puts his hand out automatically to great the odd man in his soulmate’s living room. There probably isn’t a protocol for meeting your soulmate’s roommate’s time traveling soulmate, but he’s just going to be nice and hope that’s enough.

He’s staring, and he knows he’s staring, but he can’t help it. Grabbing the other man’s hand, Pero drags him closer, the sight of him almost too much even though he knows this cannot be his William Garin. He looks exactly like his old friend. Right down to the gold flakes in the blue of his eyes.

“Pero, right?” He knows. He’s heard all about the intense warrior from your stories. But he hadn’t expected to feel so…connected to the man. Especially one that he arguably has nothing in common with. He can’t deny the tug in his gut, though. The one that says he is supposed to know this man.

Pero nods, eyes narrowing and his grip on William’s hand increases in pressure. “Who are your people?” He asks gruffly. “Where do you come from?”

“Chicago.” The question seems strange when this man knows barely anything about America, but William holds the handshake and Pero’s eyes. “We’re Irish, if that’s what you mean? Irish and English.” Is this how medieval people used to greet each other? If it is, it’s weird.

“Irish.” Pero huffs, rolling his eyes and he looks over at you. He knows he looks crazy. “He is the spitting image of the bastard I left in China. The same one I had parted with right before I met you.”

“Really?” That shakes off your concern right away, and the effect is like dominoes. You relax, so Beth does, and Will does as well. “I’m getting really good at ancestry research, maybe we can figure out if Beth’s Will is related to your William?”

“Did you have a rumor of China in your family?” Pero asks Will, finally letting go of his hand. He flexes his hand and huffs out a laugh. “And do you shoot better than anyone else?”

“I was Army before I started my security company, so I’m— yeah, I mean, I was a sniper. You have to be a good shot.” Will follows you and Beth with the bags of food and Pero is at your other side as the four of you file into the dining room. “But China?” He thinks for a second, hands automatically moving when Beth takes things out of the hutch and starts to pass plates and flatware around. “I know my great-grandma loved Chinese stories. Like fairy tales and stuff. But I don’t know if she thought we were Chinese.”

“William— my friend, he stayed in China after we defeated the monsters.” Pero tells him. “He married a General of the Nameless Order.”

William’s head pops up in surprise, and he sets the plate in his hands down much more heavily than he meant to. “The Nameless Order was real?”

“You have heard of it.” Pero nods, sure that this man is somehow related to his friend.

“My great-gran’s stories.” The younger man shakes his head in disbelief. “She would tell us folklore as bedtime stories when she babysat us growing up. Some Gaelic stories, American folktales, but mostly Chinese. I just thought she was really into Chinese history.”

“We went to China in search of black powder.” Pero tells all of you. “It took us nearly a year to get there, we lost all of the men we traveled with, nearly thirty.”

“Thirty?” Beth’s jaw drops a little as she brings cans of soda to the table. “And a whole year? Jesus. Where were you traveling from?”

“We started in Brittany.” Pero smirks slightly. “Although if I had met Sassenach, I would not have gone.” He jokes, knowing he had been a far different man before China. One you wouldn’t have put up with him.

“We would have had a much different meeting.” You can’t even imagine what it would have been like to just run into him in the village or meet him on the road. Your relationship would have been very different right off the bat.

“Yes we would have.” Pero can admit that and he reaches for your hand to pull you into his side. “I much prefer you saving me.”

“I much prefer you surviving your illness as well.” He earns a kiss for saying something so sweet, though, and you urge him to sit down next to you afterward.

“But William was the most annoying Irish bastard that I’ve ever met.” He grumbles, even with a fond smile on his face. “Impossible to kill.”

“We must be related then,” Will jokes, laughing as he and Beth start to open containers and pass dishes around. “My brother’s the most annoying shit in the world. And I never did manage to kill him when we were kids.”

Pero snorts and shakes his head. “He was like my brother. Making me want to kill him. Nearly getting blown up because of him, twice.”

“Sounds like a brother to me.” William laughs. “Blood brothers, brothers in arms, it’s all the same. You love them but you wanna strangle them with your bare hands sometimes.”

“Absolutely.” Pero grunts, relaxing a little bit more now that William understands the bond he shared with the other William.

Plates are filled in just a few minutes’ time and everyone digs into dinner. Bowie’s mournful yowls from the other room are only squelched when the cat wanders in and twists his body up at Pero’s feet, making Beth huff indignantly, and you and William only laugh.

“What?” Pero frowns as he reaches down and slips the cat a bit of the duck and scratches behind his ears until his purrs sound like a loud motor. “He is a good gato.”

“I’m apparently the only person in the world that he doesn’t like,” Beth complains, but there is a smile underneath it. It’s been so long now that it’s almost an affectionate joke.

“Maybe he doesn’t like you because of his past life.” Pero suggests, still scratching his ears.

"What do you mean?" Asks Beth, who obviously was not expecting that answer.

“Cats have lives. Many of them. Just like we do.” He explains. “Maybe your previous life intersected with his.”

"So...Bowie doesn't like me because of something that happened between us in a previous life?" It's as good an explanation as any, Beth decides, and she picks up a piece of duck from her plate to offer to the typically bristly feline. "In case, Bow, I sincerely apologize."

There’s a moment where Pero, probably everyone else in the room too, thinks that Bowie will hiss or swat at the offering. There is the slight sniff from the tuxedo cat, as if to say ’about damn time’, and he stretches away from Pero to take the morsel of duck from Beth’s hand and even brushes his cheek against her skin, marking her with his scent. Seemingly accepting the apology.

"Well I'll be damned." The whole table seemed to hold their breath but when Beth laughs in surprise, everyone exhales in relief. "I guess the war is over?"

Pero smirks slightly when Bowie yowls in agreement and curls up next to her feet, settling down to nap.

******

After the intrigue of that first dinner together, Pero and Will’s friendship blossomed immediately. His social circle grew to include some of Will’s previous gym buddies and friends from work, and though Pero isn’t necessarily social by nature it has helped immensely in getting him settled into his new life. Will had even had Pero into the office a few times in the last month and he was now talking like joining his security firm might be a chosen career path.

Pero comes rushing into the apartment, opening the door and stomping towards your shared bedroom. He hadn’t quite gotten into the habit yet of walking softly when he’s exited much to your downstairs neighbor’s dismay. He throws open the door and pins you with a harsh stare. “When were you going to tell me?” He huffs, feelings obviously hurt.

“Tell you what?” The pair of jeans in your hands crumbles instead of getting folded neatly, and you look at Pero with utter confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“You said that modern marriages are very ‘low key’ things. Basically just signing a piece of paper.” He frowns and shakes his head. “This is not true.”

Shit. You slump a little, feeling caught, and wonder what the guys must have said to him at the gym today. “They can be, amor. There is no law that says we have to have a big, fancy wedding.”

Pero frown grows even deeper, eyes shuttering slightly. “Are you— do you not wish to have a wedding?” He asks quietly, wondering if you are ashamed of him as your soulmate. He has been working hard to adapt, but maybe it is not enough.

“I wish to have a marriage.” You stress the word, laying down the jeans from your hands and coming to put your arms around him. The rate at which he has been adjusting to modern life is fairly astounding, but you see how hard he works every day to do things ‘right’ and how much having friends has helped him. “We have already had a wedding. In Gretna. And it was beautiful. I didn’t think we needed to make a fuss out of the second one. But obviously you feel differently?”

He nods. “You deserve it. Our vows were rushed and while beautiful, you deserve a party for putting up with me.” He smirks slightly at his joke. “What is a bachelor party? William said I must have one and you must have a…a woman’s party.” He cannot remember the term his friend had used, but it sounded like it was necessary to a wedding.

“Will wants to throw you a bachelor party?” That honestly makes you chuckle a little, and you squeeze your arms around his waist in a gentle hug. “It is a party to celebrate a man who is getting married and also mourn the loss of his time as a single man. Usually, the other men of the wedding party take the groom out and get him very drunk, feed him well, and sometimes take him to see women dance with very little clothing on. The version for the bride is mostly the same, but sometimes instead of dancing men, women will go and have their own fun. Dancing or pampering themselves. It all depends on what the bride and groom like.”

Pero frowns slightly and tries to imagine seeing a woman that is not you without her clothes on. “I do not wish to watch some woman who is not you dance.” He huffs, finally figuring out why everyone chuckled when Will had told him that he would take him to the ‘club’.

“Then you don’t have to.” It’s actually quite charming and romantic, how deeply loyal Pero is and how he doesn’t even like to look at models in clothing ads. “You can do anything you like at your bachelor party. You just have to tell Will what you want it don’t want.”

“Yes, I will tell him.” Pero nods and turns the conversation back to you. “Be truthful.” He murmurs. “Would you like to have a wedding here with your friends and family?” He asks. “We had one we think of often with Briac and Arwena, should we not here?”

“Big weddings cost a lot of money.” And the practical part of you says that you’ve already had a wedding - so why bother? But there is also the part of you that wonders what a modern white wedding with Pero would even be like. “We couldn’t do anything too big anyway, since we only have two more months on your visa. But…” The shrug you give him is somewhat sheepish, as you can feel the warmth in your cheeks admitting it. “I wouldn’t mind a celebration. I do want you to meet my family at some point, and a wedding would definitely make that happen.”

“You said we could do what we wanted, sí?” Pero asks. “That would be fun. Tell me what all a modern wedding requires?”

“Well…” Out in the living room, you sit down on the couch together and you pull out your phone to show him some pictures of wedding aesthetic boards and other ‘typical’ American wedding images. “We would rent out a place we think is pretty, hire people to cook and serve our food, have lots of flowers, and have a big cake to serve to everyone for dessert. The reception has lots of dancing and I’m supposed to wear a special white dress. You would have at least one person stand with you and sign our marriage certificate as your witness, and I would have one as well. At the reception people sometimes make speeches, or just wish us well in our married life. And there is a rehearsal dinner the night before where we practice the ceremony so everyone knows what they’re doing. It’s…a lot of work, honestly. But we would have a photographer there to take pictures like these so we can remember our day for the rest of our lives. It’s…like I said, it’s a lot of work, but weddings can be really special and really fun.”

“Do you want to do it?” The last thing that he wants is to make more work for you, but it does sound fun. Especially since he’s found that he loves pictures. To be able to see something to remember it is incredible. And to be able to have pictures of your modern marriage would be very nice.

“What if we did a small version of it?” It’s clear to you, from the concern and small amount of excitement on his face, that Pero likes the idea of a wedding. And god knows your parents would be over the moon about it. It’s no sacrifice at all when you know it will make the people you love happy and you’ll end up enjoying the day very much in the end. “Just my family and our close friends? I’m sure we can find some place that can accommodate us in the next few weeks.”

“How about outside?” Pero asks, finding there is a lot of natural places around your apartment building. “We could go to that place you showed last week.”

“The garden that we had lunch in with Beth and William and Beth’s abuela?” Pero’s affinity for gardens had taken you only slightly by surprise, but it has been fun to show him all the different plants and flowers that thrive in tropical temperatures he had never seen or experienced before. “Amor, that was Beth’s abuela’s house. I—I suppose we could ask her.” It never would have occurred to you, but Beth’s grandmother has literally won prizes for her gardening and her house is beautiful. It might even be a historical landmark, now that you’re thinking about it. “It might be much easier to have a wedding at a house, if she is okay with it. And of course I’ll offer to pay her for the trouble.”

Pero nods. “The abuela needed some work done. I can do it for her as well.” He offers, knowing that he will always try to barter even though it’s not normal now.

“Let’s ask Beth if she thinks her grandmother would be open to it when we see them for dinner tonight.” A week after Pero had returned, Beth and William had very gently announced that they were moving in together, and now the four of you have dinner together a few times a week on top of any girl time you spend with Beth or guy time that Pero spends with Will.

Pero pulls out the notebook he has started carrying. “We should write it down. What we want, sí?” He asks you hopefully, grinning because you are agreeing to have a wedding for him. You had said something about going down to the courthouse and signing some papers and that being it.

“We can absolutely make a list.” It’s very sweet, the way Pero has been carrying his notebook with him everywhere. The pocket-sized moleskin fits in his jeans or jacket and always has a pencil tucked inside it’s pages. Since his written English has improved, he has been very excited to employ it at every turn. “Would you like to have a very traditional wedding, amor? They can be very formal. But lots of younger couples these days do things less formally. It can be whatever we like.”

“I do not know what you mean, but I don’t think we would enjoy it if it was too rigid, amor.” He looks over at you. “William said most women dream of their wedding. What did you dream of?”

“You’ll laugh.” Or at least, most people would. But you roll your eyes at yourself and start looking for reference images for what you’re about to describe to him. “You know that television show I watch sometimes? The noble lady who does not wear shoes?” Your affinity for Ina Garten’s Barefoot Contessa had come back full force since returning home, and you find you love it even more now for the way it sometimes reminds you of life in the cottage in Brittany. The Barefoot Contessa’s generally French-inspired and ‘earthy’ upscale entertaining reminded you sometimes of the plates of vegetables, fruit, cheese, and cured meats you would put together for you and Pero. Simple dressings and dips and good bread had been something that you could use to make yourself feel particularly fancy. “I always imagined having a wedding like she would throw. In a beautiful garden with simple but really delicious food that goes late into the night because everyone is having so much fun eating and dancing and talking.”

“I will hunt for it.” Pero offers immediately, imagining bringing back game for you, for the wedding. “Roasted rabbit and a deer?” He asks, wondering if it would good. “Open spit? Like how I used to cook when we were traveling. Hunger made everything delicious, but I’ve wondered how it would taste with your herbs.”

“You could tell William that you want to go hunting for your bachelor party,” you offer, knowing that it’s something William and his friends also enjoy and that a weekend hunting trip would be right up all of their alleys. “There has to be a catering company somewhere this part of Florida that will agree to let us supply the meat and they’ll do all the cooking for us.”

“You could do one of those people that you watch on your…phone.” Pero frowns for a moment as he had forgotten the name of the device that seems to do everything for everyone in this time. Everyone is attached to it like it is their swords. “The people that come to you a cook? What was the word?”

“Caterers?” The nod you give him is fully encouraging. “Yes, I think we could find a caterer willing to cook what you hunt.” He writes it down when you speak the word for him and you smile again. “No one would know that your hunting is how you won a first kiss from me, but we will know.”

Pero smirks at the memory and bites his lip, his eyes flashing playfully. “I was showing off.” He admits. “I knew I could do it, but when you told me my prize was a kiss? I had to snare the rabbit.” He chuckles and leans in to steal another kiss. “Best hunt I ever went on.”

“With the longest lasting prize.” You hum into the kiss happily, settling into his side on the sofa. “Now…I know you will be excited about this. Modern weddings have elaborate and delicious cakes for dessert. And the bakery down in the corner that you like makes some beautiful ones.”

Pero groans, his love of food had definitely grown in this time. The sweets available mind blowing to a man who had only ever known honey or fruits as a source of sugar. The trips to the gym with William had been needed so he continued to fit the clothes you had bought him. “We must have that.” He decides, writing it down immediately and circling it for good measure. He’s enjoyed making his journal and re-reading through it when he feels unsure of himself, like training constantly when he was a boy.

“Yes, but what flavour will we have?” For a man who lived most of his life leanly, it has been the height of luxury for Pero to be able to eat whatever he wants at the drop of a hat, and your modern wedding day is no time to squelch that. You want him to have the most enjoyment he possible can.

His eyes lighting up at the prospect, Pero hums and his stomach grumbles on queue. “We will have to try them all and decide.” He announces, imagining going to that bakery and buying all the little cakes to stuff into his mouth happily. Everything in this time was so sweet and he was quickly addicted to it.

“We’ll get a cupcake in every flavour and try them all together.” You promise him, chuckling at how excited he is. “And then we can pick our favourite for our wedding cake. It will be a feast.”

That makes him grin, nodding quickly at that idea. It means that he will have dessert for at least a few days. Or he will make himself sick by eating them all at once. That has happened a few times. “What else do we need for a modern wedding?” He asks, not sure about everything involved.

“We’ll find someone to play music for us, and someone to take pictures for us.” He takes notes as you go and you press a kiss to his cheek with a grin. “You will need someone to be your best man and I will need someone to be my maid of honour. The people who stand next to us while we’re married and will sign our marriage certificate as witnesses.”

“Like Briac and Arwena.” Pero knows that you could have married with just Father Malcolm but both of you wanted the younger couple with you.

“Exactly.” He knows you’ve been missing the younger couple lately - he walked in on you telling Bowie stories of time spent with Arwena about a week ago. “Should we ask Beth and Will?”

Considering it for a moment, Pero nods. “It is a good choice.” There are more things about William that have Pero comparing him to the man he had traveled with to China and he has quickly become as close - although they have not battled together. “I will ask Will tonight.”

“I have a feeling this will be all we talk about at dinner.” And considering how adamant Beth has been about doing something wedding-y, you have a feeling she’ll be thrilled. “I’ll have to go without you to buy my dress. Superstitions say it’s bad luck for you to see my dress before the wedding.”

Pero frowns hard at this, but he eventually sighs when you just stare at him for a moment. “Truly? That is stupid.” He grunts, not having any clue what this dress shopping would include, but seeing a dress is not bad luck.

The way you smirk at him is nearly evil, knowing he’s going to be pouting even harder in just a second. “And we’re not allowed to spend the night together the night before the wedding. That’s bad luck, too.” And something you know your superstitious mother will enforce when she arrives, all in the name of caution and care.

“No.” Shaking his head, Pero’s scowl turns fierce. “Not happening. No way.” He’s adopted the phrase ‘no way’ from Will and it is very true here. “I don’t want to sleep apart from you.”

“I knew you wouldn’t like that.” The way this man love is fierce and doting, and you adore him for it. “We don’t have to sleep apart, amor. It’s just a superstition.”

“If you wanted to adhere to the superstition…I will deal with it.” He sighs with a very pouty huff as he reaches for your hand. “It is one night and I had far more without when you went through the Stones.”

“All the more reason not to waste the time we have now.” Never having been a particularly superstitious person despite being raised by one, you could care less. The reason you want to go dress shopping without him is to surprise him - not because of luck.

“Te amo.” Pero murmurs, unable to stop himself from stealing another kiss. “Flowers? Why do you need flowers? People are bathing regularly.”

"Because they're beautiful." You shrug, as though it were a silly answer. "Flowers are traditional for weddings, and people like to match their flowers to the colors they pick for the day. Make everything look coordinated." It's a lot of fuss, and you never intended to do all of this with him - but on the other hand? Now that you've started to plan, it is a little exciting.

“Colors?” Pero can’t even comprehend what you are meaning by that but he nods and writes it down. “What flowers would you want? Do you have a favorite?”

"Colors are...to make everything look nice, I guess." There's really no better way to describe it. "We can pick a couple of colors that look nice together, like...like green and yellow. Or blue and gray. And we would use those colors throughout the wedding. Like Beth would wear a dress in one of the colors or your suit might be in the other. The cake might be decorated with the colors, too. And I would probably have my flowers include the colors, too." Not that you have ever thought about wedding colors - not beyond thinking that your cousin's orange and pink wedding was a little too garish for your taste.

“Grey.” Pero decides immediately. “I like grey.” Shopping for clothes has introduced him to a plethora of colors but he has several shades of grey.

"Okay, we can work with that." Nodding into his side, you snuggle up again easily. "Grey and silver are pretty easy to work with. And almost any other color works with gray." Smiling, you tilt your head back and raise an eyebrow at him. "How about purple? We can be royalty for a day."

“Don’t you like green?” He asks, raising the question since he’s seen you wear a lot of that color. He will agree to anything you want honestly, but he doesn’t want you to pick colors he likes alone.

"I do." Words you will say to him in completely different context in just a few weeks’ time. "I like green and I also like purple. Actually...all three colors work together. We could have gray, green, and purple together?"

“That would work.” Pero bites his lip and thinks about it. “If you like it, that is what we will have.”

"I like it." And the purple bouquet with lots of greenery tied in a silky gray ribbon is already starting to take shape in your mind. You never really expected flowers to be the thing you fantasized about for your wedding, but here you are. "And I think you would look very handsome in a gray suit."

“Sí?” William had taken him to get a suit for the work that he wanted him to do. Pero found it rather restricting, but you had been very interested in it when he had shown you it to ask your opinion.

“Sí.” You tell him, a grin cracking the solemnity on your face. “A well-tailored suit is a thing of beauty, amor. Just the way you love when I wear a bikini to the beach, I enjoy seeing you in one.”

His expression is wolfish, about to devour you at just the mention of it. “The only thing better is having you naked, amor, and they would not allow that on your beaches.”

“I know another wedding thing you will like quite a lot.” You tease, sitting up in his arms to be nose-to-nose and grinning at him unrepentantly. “The brand new lingerie I will be buying to wear under my wedding dress just for my husband to take off of me that night.”

Pero growls, cock jumping in his pants and he narrows his eyes at you. “First you tell me I cannot sleep beside you, fuck you, the night before our wedding. Now you tease me with knowing something sexy is underneath it?” Sexy is another word he has learned and he uses it often where you are concerned. “I will drag you off over my shoulder once the vows are spoken, bruja.”

“You would not be the first groom to do it, either.” It draws a light laugh from you, and ringing your arms around his shoulders to hug him. “Our honeymoon will be nothing but sex, I can already see it.”

“The last one would have been more sex.” He reminds you, both of you now able to talk about you being so sick without breaking down. The first time you coughed around him after getting here, he had demanded you see a healer.

"I think we've been making up for lost time pretty well, don't you?" Since you have been working from home and Pero is doing some small freelance things for Will's security firm, you have had ample opportunity to fuck on every surface in the apartment. Multiple times.

“We have.” Pero smirks smugly, thinking about how he had woken you up this morning before he had been picked up so he could slide inside you. Both of you had rolled out of bed with a satisfied grin on your face.

"I, um..." Shifting slightly, you sit back on your ankles bite your lip. A thought had occurred to you about a week ago and you're not sure how he might feel about it. "I had a thought. About our honeymoon..."

Pero catches your hesitancy and frowns slightly, but he nods in order to get you to expand on your idea. “You wish to sleep apart? I will not do that. Not when you will be my wife. Never again.”

"Oh no way." You shake your head adamantly, trying to figure out where that idea even came from. "No, no, not at all. I meant I had an idea about where to go, that's all."

“Oh.” The jokes William and the others that he was around had made about Pero having to sleep on the couch after he got married were apparently wrong. The couch was comfortable and he had dozed on it, but he wanted to sleep on the bed where his wife is sleeping. “Where?”

"What if we went back to France?" The memories you have of the place aren't all positive, obviously, but everything involving him is wonderful. "I looked up the village that the cottage was near and...I mean, I'm not saying that I think our cottage would still be standing after a thousand years, but the village is still there. And I thought it might be romantic to go back there in our new life. To...remember."

“Yes.” His answer is immediate, almost forceful and he can see that it startles you slightly. “Sí.” He murmurs, reaching for your hand to hold it gently. “I would like to see it again. Where we found each other. I am certain I can find where the cottage stood.”

"Things will have changed a lot of the centuries, amor. It's okay if we don't find it." All you want is to breathe the air again, to feel those specific sunbeams and be in that place again with nothing but comfort and joy.

He hums, doubting that every natural marker the landscape had was removed. He will find your little cottage that he had shared with you. “We will find it.”

******

Dol-de-Bretagnac has grown since the eleventh century, rising up to swallow the little village you once called home and bringing it through the centuries beautifully. The inn you're staying in for your honeymoon is one of a dozen converted medieval estates in the area, but not a house you recognize from the first time you were in Brittany. It's newer than that, but so is almost everything.

The wedding had gone beautifully, and your family adore Pero, characterizing him as 'intense but charming' and they had just about gone crazy when they found out that the beautiful game meats they were eating for dinner had been the result of his bachelor hunting party. Your mother had practically batted her eyelashes at how masculine it was for him to provide for you like that.

Today is your second day in Brittany - with yesterday being spent either in bed or at a meal - and you had chosen to leave the rental car at the hotel and go for a walk through the narrow streets of town. Being married all over again feels like more of a relief than anything else. Like you're finally back to where you're meant to be.

“It is different.” Pero admits, looking around and huffing. Luckily some key pieces have been constant. The old town Well was preserved and from that, Pero can tell where your cottage was. “This was where I met Briac.” He motions towards a newer shopping center that had replaced the old buildings.

“There is still a bakery in the same place.” Pointing to a different part of what used to be the village center, there is a little boulangerie now standing where the baker’s shop once stood. “I doubt they still have his ovens, but it’s nice that it is accidentally consistent.”

“Yes.” The hands that are not pointing out pieces of your old life are firmly entwined, fingers laced together and you look like two soulmates should in this time. Two tourists, although you have more history in this village than the people here, or at least ancient history. Pero had been nervous about meeting your family and the wedding, but it had been nothing like the immigration interviews. Since he was a soulmate, he was guaranteed a ‘green card’, approval to stay with you, but Pero had taken offense to the man’s attitude and it had nearly made the entire process more difficult. “I wonder if the people now ever think of what came before. Without going to their museums.” He grunts as he remembers the stone church being much smaller than the one that is in its place.

“Oh shit.” You practically snort, giggling at him with wide eyes. “I never even considered that some of our things could be in a museum. What if the people who built where the cottage used to be had found bottles or tools or something?” Or even your cauldron, which would have given you a good giggle.

Pero snorts and shakes his head. He would not be happy about that if he were honest. “Why don’t we go see what is there?” He asks, smirking at you. “Visit your cottage?”

“Our cottage.” It doesn’t matter that you lived there without him for years - it was the first home you shared together and you will always think of it that way.

“You are a generous woman, Sassenach.” His tone is gruff, thick with emotion. A woman independent of a man was rare in his time and you willingly giving him what was rightfully yours even more so. It humbles him more than you ever could know.

The walk from the old village center is still a long hill, but the winding streets of this modern town are lined with shops and restaurants and homes. Businesses and offices have taken up where trees used to be, and the vast fields that lined your walk are filled with schools and more houses of worship. It is very different, and yet not so very hard to imagine what was once here, as you walk the once-worn road that led out of your small village.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, watching the changing landscape and imagining it as it once was. If he had not walked this land one thousand years prior, he would never have known it was the same place.

"Like I ought to be pulling my cart." You admit, holding tight to his hand. The uneven, cobblestone streets give you a little trouble with your lack of depth perception, but he makes sure that you never stumble. "I half expect to see Binx waiting for me at the bottom of the hill."

“She was a good gato.” Pero murmurs, feeling the same way. The opinionated cat had annoyed him at the start, but her loyalty to you and then Arwena had been admirable. “She was a clever thing.”

"She loved you." Both of your cats have adored him, which makes you happier than you can say. Bowie yowled his displeasure when you left for the airport yesterday, refusing to let go of him until Beth had arrived to see you off and check in with her furry charge. The truce between your cat and best friend has held, and she's promised to look after Bowie while you and Pero are on your honeymoon.

“Because I love you.” Pero points out. He had no question that if he had dishonorable intentions, your cat would have attacked him ferociously. “If I was a bastard, she might have tripped me off that roof.” He chuckles quietly, remembering how the cat had watched him patch the roof with the most judgmental expression he has ever seen on a feline.

"Does that mean you already loved me when you decided to fix my roof?" It's just a tease, the way you smirk at him, but the notion of it does make your heart swell a little in your chest.

He huffs at you, rolling his eyes and squeezing your hand. You both know that it wasn’t exactly true, but he had been unsettled by you from the beginning. Who knows? It might have been love. “I didn’t want to freeze.” He grumbles playfully.

"Nah." You grin, swinging his hand in yours playfully as you walk together. "You loved me. You're just a sweet, soft man. But don't worry, I won't tell."

Pero growls but it’s not in annoyance. Maybe a little annoyance that he’s so soft for you. It is such a change from the man he had been before you, but his other option is not to have you and he doesn’t want to ever think of that again.

“Grumpy and blushing.” Your grin turns into a giggle as you lean into his side in the walk. “That’s my man.”

“Bruja.” Pero mutters under his breath, no heat to his words. There are times when he wishes the magic was as strong now as it was back then, he would make you fly up in the air to hear you shriek.

“I miss it,” you admit, turning right with him at the bottom of the hill just like you were headed back to that little stone cottage with your garden and small barn. In this time your potions are only mildly effective and the powerful light or flame you once conjured is barely better than candlelight. “And I wish I could have seen what Wena taught you.”

“You wish to see me curse and throw things in frustration?” Pero had always been careful not to do it in front of the girl, knowing the abuse she had suffered at the hands of her father, but sometimes he had just needed to vent his underlying worry that he would not be able to learn.

“I wish that it could have been something we shared.” Ultimately, you missed out on a year of his life that you should not have had to miss - although if you hadn’t this walk would be very different. You might never have come back to Brittany for the rest of your lives if you had not had to come home.

“Perhaps we should try our magic together.” Pero murmurs softly, aware of how crazy it sounds but he is a man from a thousand years ago, walking on these grounds again because of magic. Surely together it would be stronger.

"Perhaps we should." Linking your fingers through his as you walk, you look up at him with a curious twist of your lips. "What would we try?"

“I— hmmmm.” That is an interesting question. “We will have to think of something, amor. First, let us find our cottage.”

The curve of the lane follows the curve of the old road that you remember so well, but the sight in far different than it once was. Private homes line what used to be the woods in the distance, but there is an enormous tree standing in what looks like a small garden just across the street from where you and Pero now stand. "Hazelnuts," you hum, seeing the clusters of nuts in the branches. "The baker and his wife would trade anything for fresh hazelnuts..."

“I remember you digging for them.” He thinks back to those trips to the woods while you were gathering the last of the herbs before they wilted under the snow and the hazelnuts were always wanted. “The bread was always tasty and fresh.”

"I know it's easier to buy them from the grocery store, but I do miss foraging sometimes." Crossing the street with him, your hand is still in his as you approach the enormous, gnarled tree. "Maybe when we finally buy a house, I'll start another garden."

Pero counts the paces and looks around back up the hill. “This is it.” He murmurs to himself, then squeezes your hand. “This is it, amor. Where our cottage stood.”

"Are you sure?" To be honest you feel a little turned around with how different everything looks, and you're not sure you could pinpoint the land you used to live on if your life depended on it.

“Yes.” He let’s go of your hand to stride forward. “The door was here.” He opens his arms wide to indicate the door. “This must- this is Tree I planted when I was here last.” He murmurs, looking up at the great, towering tree in wonder. It’s a true test of how much time has passed.

"You planted a tree the night we left?" He had never mentioned it, obviously, and you had spent so much time inside with Arwena as you packed up your necessities in the cottage that you wouldn't have ever seen him do it.

“No.” Pero turns back to you with a slightly guilty expression. “I came back on my way to the Stones.” He admits, reaching up and rubbing his neck as he examines the ground. “So if the tree is this large…it should be right around here.”

"What should be?" He is examining the ground carefully and you tilt your head at him in confusion. There is no anger or hurt feelings, just curiosity in your tone. "Amor, you never told me you came back to our home on your way north."

“I know.” Pero nods as he slips the bag he had brought off his back. “I did not know if we would return. Or if I could make it through the Stones.” He admits, kneeling down and unzipping the bag. He had requested these items from the hotel and to his surprise, they had provided them.

“What are you up to?” His mischievous streak has been fostered lately, mostly by Will and their friends, and just two days ago it had resulted in a beautiful wedding present of the necklace you’re currently wearing, but something tells you that this secret of his has nothing to do with jewelry.

“I did not wish to get your hopes up, amor.” He admits as he pulls a compact shovel and a pair of gloves from the bag. “But there is something I am hoping to find here.” The eagerness in his voice spells of it being a good discovery and he looks up at you and sends you a roguish wink.

“Can I help?” You’re immediately beside him with your knees in the dirt, assuming he has buried something when you see the shovel and gloves. “It doesn’t look like anybody owns this land, so hopefully no one will care if we dig.”

“I do not care if they care.” Pero huffs. “This land was ours and what is down here is ours.” He had buried it with the purpose of hopefully coming back to get it, in his time or in yours. With William’s help, there had been a lot of research that you were unaware of before the wedding. “If you wish to help, take the other gloves that I have in the bag.”

It takes time. Even with two of you, a thousand years of erosion and soil movement means that whatever is down here is not in the exact same place he left it - but in time it becomes clear that the roots of the tree he planted have protected his secret. One long, curled root has found its way around a small wooden chest which has been remarkably preserved. As if by magic, you think with a wry smile.

“She said it would work.” Pero huffs as he smirks, his shovel used as as axe to start chopping away at the root to pry the box from its resting place. “It is still here, amor.” He grunts, exhausted but exhilarated by the prospect.

“H—how?” You assume that ‘she’ is Arwena, but you’re too gobsmacked as he pulls the chest out of the ground to ask an intelligent question. “What did you bury?”

Pero brushes the carved lid off and carefully hands it to you. “Open it and see, amor.” He offers, wanting you to see what he had tried to do in order to plan for your future. “I had hoped it would be found by us, and now it has.”

It's remarkable, and the way the chest has survived the centuries almost unscathed. Whatever spell of protection he had placed on it, his magic was clearly much stronger then, than he had ever let on. The hinges creak when you pull at the rusted lock, but the butt of Pero's shovel soon sees it opened. Nestled in a clunky bed of fabric and leather is one of the few rare clear glass jars that you had had - the one that you had treasured for its clarity and stuffed full of beautiful dried rosebuds so you could still see the beautiful colors when it sat on the shelf. "Oooh..." You could cry just from the intimately familiar sight. "Amor, you..." You look up at him with your jaw fallen open. "You saved some of my things?"

“I did.” He nods and stares down at the box with the reminiscent fondness of someone opening a time capsule. “When I left Wena and Briac, I came back here. I needed to see it one last time and make sure that I left something of you- and myself behind if the Stones were going to reunite us.”

"Thank you." The kiss you give him is far more than well earned, but you don't let the moment run away with you just yet. There is a layer of fabric keeping the jar safe, but underneath is a large, thick, leather hide pouch that is unmistakably heavy when you pick it up. "Pero?" His name is a gasp from your lips as you untie the pouch to see a mass of coins gleaming and winking back at you from its depths. "H--how?"

"I earned coin as I made my way here." Pero murmurs. "Everything of value in the cottage was sold so I could bury this here." He wanted to bring it, but he also was not sure where he would end up or if he could go through. Burying it was safer in his mind. "I wanted to make sure you were taken care of in whatever time we ended up in."

“You promised your mamá you would provide for your soulmate…” It is not possible for you to be more in awe of him right now, and you wish you had some better way of expressing it than the shocked expression on your face. “Amor, do you have any idea what these are worth now?”

“William said that if we could find them, you would never have to work again if you did not wish to.” Pero hadn’t understood the amounts the other man had been talking but it was easily more than Pero had hoped to see in his lifetime.

“If we can find someone to buy these? Neither of us will ever have to work.” There are easily twenty gold coins, another dozen silver, and a large handful of copper pennies in the heavy bag, and you shake your head in disbelief. “We could travel all over the world if we wanted to. Never work again.”

“William already assured me he could find buyers if I found them.” Pero smirks at you, watching as you hold the coins as if they are precious. “If you want to quit your job and do something crazy with me.”

“Anything.” He knows you hate your office job, and that you would go or do anything with him that he wanted. Your hobbies are what bring you joy - your hobbies, your friends, and your incredible soulmate.

“I- William. He has found our little home in Valencia.” He explains. “There is- it is for sale.” He had to learn what that meant from Will. Apparently in this time, you had to buy the earth you worked. No rich lord owed all of it and allowed people to live on his lands.

“Oh my god.” Whatever you had expected him to say, that is not it at all. “Is it still a farm? Or is the house in some larger town now?” Moving to Spain is bigger than you had thought he would suggest, but it is not so crazy. And with the money these coins brought, you could hop on a plane and be across the pond to visit Beth and William any time you chose.

“It is still a farm.” Pero had been shocked when he had seen the old house was still standing in the pictures that Will had shown him. It was being used as a barn, but it was the same stones that Wena and Briac had sheltered their family inside. “You never got to see our home, amor.” Pero reaches for your hand. “Would you like to?”

"It will be a sort of adventure all its own, amor. Modern Spain will be very different from where you grew up and neither of us will know exactly what to expect." Still, the tears in your eyes are an obvious answer, especially when you lunge forward to throw your arms around him. "It will be a whole new life for us to start together. And...and I honestly can't wait."

“Or we could stay here.” Pero offers. “Rebuild our cottage.” Everything wouldn’t be exactly the same. He has learned to love indoor plumbing as much as you have. The extra-large tub in your hotel bathroom is a must wherever you live.

"I only care that I'm with you." You promise him, on the verge of having those tears that are building spill over onto your cheeks. "Here or Spain, whichever you dream of. We will sell these coins and build our life like we planned on a thousand years ago." Will you miss seeing Beth and Will every day? Of course. But in a world of video chatting and airplanes, you will have plenty of chances to spend time with your best friends.

“I only want that.” Pero murmurs, looking down at what would give him the fortune he had been chasing all those years ago. The fortune he had never found but had sent him straight into the arms of his soulmate. “All I wish is for the remaining years of my life to be spent with you, Sassenach.”

"How about this?" Hugging him tightly once more, you sit back on your ankles and wipe your eyes. "If your parents' farmhouse is still for sale once we have sold these coins and gotten the money that you saved, then that will be our sign to buy it. If not, we will find out who owns this land and rebuild our cottage beside your hazelnut tree."

“You have a good plan.” Pero holds you close and kisses your forehead. “It would be nice to live there like we planned so many years ago, or rebuilding the first home we had together. Perhaps one day we can do both.”

"I don't think we'll be lacking for funding," you laugh, looking down at the pouch of coins again in disbelief. "I have only one request, amor. If I could?"

“What is it?” You already know that anything you want he will do everything in his power to make sure it happens. “Anything.”

"Whenever we decide to go, can we make sure that there is room for Beth and Will to come visit us?" It almost feels silly asking, but happily starting your life over again with him does not mean that you have to leave everything behind this time. "A guest room in the house. That's all I ask. For our friends, or my family to come and see us."

“Done.” Pero nods immediately. “We will make sure we have room for any and all to come stay.” He doesn’t want to take you away from your family to never see them again. His parents always wanted a large family on the land they lived on and worked.

"I can't believe this." Truly, in your wildest dreams, you never could have thought that anything could have survived the centuries. Let alone a chest of coins, a precious memory of your past, or his family home. That you could possibly have all three is too much to even wrap your head around right now. "Your magic must have been much stronger than you led me to believe, for this to have remained safe all these years."

“As long as it brought me back to you, I did not care how strong it was.” Pero admits, shrugging casually. “But I could raise Cabello into the air.”

"I bet he hated that." You laugh, nearly doubled over at the thought of his enormous warhorse floating above the ground.

“He did.” Pero chuckles, knowing the horse had been well taken care of in his retirement from war. The farrier had been impressed with him and had a gentle touch.

"Let's bring this back to the hotel." The chest is precious and very heavy, but it will fit in his backpack to be stored in your hotel room while you explore the area and enjoy your honeymoon. "If your magic preserved those rosebuds well enough, they will be the first thing I plant in our new garden. Heirloom roses straight from the eleventh century."

“I am having a thought, Sassenach.” Pero hums as he slides the chest into the bag and starts to cover the hole back up. It would do no good to have anyone discover that something had been dug up. “The original house. I would like to restore it as it had been in my time. As a means of showing what it was truly like.” There had been some little tour of what a house would have looked like two hundred years ago, something you had shown him. It had sparked the interest again, reminding him of the conversation you had in his time before plans had changed.

"You miss Valencia, don't you?" It's easy to see, especially in his enthusiasm, and you reach to rub your thumb over the peak of his shoulder. "We should reach out to the people who are selling your family farm. Speak to them about our interest and that your ancestors were the ones who built it. See if they will be willing to wait for us to bring the money together. Then we can restore anything you like." But you shoot him a knowing grin. "Restored, but with indoor plumbing."

“The house we live in should be modeled after it. But larger. All your modern stuffs in it.” He is happy you are so accepting of his idea. It might help him feel more settled here.

"A modern kitchen for me to cook in and a large bathtub for you to relax in." Standing again, you both dust off your knees and take hands again. "It will be the home we intended, when we spoke to Wena and Briac about wanting to stay."

“I only relax in a bath when you join me.” Pero grumbles at you, having complained that the bathtub in the apartment it too small to fit you comfortably. There had been a lot of shower sex though, he did like that.

"You will need a hobby for you, amor. Rich men have hobbies because they don't have to work." Both of you know very well that whatever bathtub you install in your new home will have to be big enough for two, but you do still like teasing him. "Sex with your wife does not count as a hobby."

“It should.” He huffs as he pats the earth down and stands up to lift the heavy bag onto his back. “I will show other rich men how to live simply. It will be popular among the lords of this time.”

"A garden, some travel, and our cat." You chuckle, thinking how much Bowie will enjoy being a mouser on a small farm. Even just in a house with a garden. "We would have space enough for two cats if we wanted to give Bowie a friend. Or even for you to have a horse again, if you wanted."

He had not thought about that and he immediately perks up at the idea. This is the longest he had ever been without a horse since he had become a mercenary. “Would you want another horse? Go for rides again?”

"I think it could be fun." Backtracking the way you had walked a few hours ago, you and Pero start up the hill to return to the old village center hand in hand. "I think you would ride your horse everywhere and entirely avoid cars if you could."

“It would be better.” He immediately agrees, even though he’s learning to drive, he does not enjoy it. “It’s exercise. That metal monstrosity does nothing but shorten my life.”

"I'll do the driving and you'll do the riding, then." Returning to driving is actually something you've enjoyed, but you know he hates it. It has, however, made you a much more cautious driver to have him in the car with you.

“I don’t know if that makes it better, bruja.” He snorts, smirking over at you when you huff, all offended at his words.

"I'll send you back to Scotland to drive around with Sarah and then you'll be glad to be riding with me again." As much as you adore her, Sarah MacLeod is not the best driver in the world, and you know that being in her car as his first automobile experience probably colored Pero's opinion of driving forever.

His face drops instantly and he looks like he’s going to get sick. “Never again, Sassenach.” He groans. “Not while my feet still work.”

That sends you into a fit of giggles, and you grip his hand as you walk up the hill together. "Alright, maybe I won't make you ride with Sarah again. But at least I'm not the worst driver you know."

The huff that comes out of Pero is very reminiscent of when Cabello would snort and blow before stamping his foot impatiently. “You are meaner in this time, Sassenach.” He grumbles even as his grip on your hand tightens.

"You like to be teased." He always has, that was apparent to you from the beginning. "And you know that I would never do anything to make you unhappy, cariño. It's all in good fun."

He rolls his eyes at you and let’s go of your hand to swat at your ass playfully. “You are a pain in my ass, so I will pain yours.” He jokes.

"Te amo mucho, mi amor." You grin, practically sticking your tongue out at him as you walk together. Everything feels as light as air today, and seemingly nothing could cut through the good mood that has settled between you.

“I will pull you over my knee when we get back to our room.” He huffs, knowing you will enjoy it if he does. “But I won’t let you cum.”

"Now who's mean?" You pout at him dramatically, knowing that he would give in and let you have your pleasure eventually no matter what he says, but enjoying the game.

“Born mean, mi amor.” He flashes you a wicked grin and winks at you when it just makes you pout even harder.

"You say so, but I have seen you misty-eyed at not just one but two of our weddings, and caught you having entire conversations with Binx and Bowie and Caballo." This man's many different faces have always fascinated you, but perhaps that is part of being soulmates. The great privilege of having someone close to you that will never tire or bore you. Someone who will challenge, love, encourage, and support you through the best and the worst of life. Someone to complete you - no matter where or when you are.

Pero grumbles under his breath, flushing slightly at your call out of his supposed tender behavior. It flies in the face of the hard facade he had shown the world for nearly his entire life. “Mean.” He huffs, as if he’s trying to convince you.

“Maybe I am.” You shrug, hand still in his. “Maybe you are. But I think we’re the best version of ourselves now that we’re together.”

"I can agree to that." Pero knows that he doesn't want to be without you again, it was too painful for that year once he had entwined his soul with yours. "Now we don't need to be apart." He chuckles quietly. "We will have our modern house and live everyday like we did in the cottage."

“Te amo, mi corazón.” Lifting His hand to your lips, you leave a kiss in his skin and smile. Te amo mucho.”

"Mi vida es tuya." My life is yours. Pero reminds you simply, knowing you feel the same.

“What else would you like to do today, amor?” There had been more to find at the site of your old cottage than you could possibly have anticipated, but you still have an entire evening ahead of you.

"That is up to you." Pero murmurs softly. "We can explore the village or we can see about getting a meal and going back to the cottage to eat there. Under that tree?"

“We could do both?” With both of you softened a little, you lean your head on his shoulder for a moment at the corner of a street waiting for a group of cars to pass so you can keep walking. “We could walk around until we find something good to eat and then walk back down to the cottage to have our meal.”

Pero hums his agreement, finding it to be a good idea. He also has another plan for tonight back at the site of the cottage you and he had shared so many years ago. Biting his lip, he nods. "Perfecto."

******

Once your things are settled back at the inn, the two of you wander town some more. Modern shops mix with historical sites in this place that is so obviously fond of its heritage, and you share a few good laughs about how you would be the town’s most treasured visitors if they only knew about your past. Eventually you wander into the bakery that stands on the same site as the old baker’s shop, and though they aren’t using his same stone oven, they are baking with the same ancient principles in mind. Tartines, a small loaf of seeded bread, and a few pastries are added to your accumulated picnic of wine and cheese, and you’re ready to head back down to the tree Pero planted by your old cottage.

When the chest had been pulled out of the bag, it had been replaced with the throw blanket the hotel had set out on the couch in the small sitting area. Wanting to use it to put down on the ground when you eat. You had told him that in this time picnics were romantic things, rather than just eating during a rest for the horses. Spreading it under the tree, the blanket sits where your bed would have been in cottage and Pero smirks, sitting down and patting the space beside him. "Sit, amor."

You’re careful with the food, seeing everything down gently, and setting down your own bag in the corner of the blanket to sit down beside him. It’s a beautiful, sunny day and warm, so a picnic is just the thing for your dinner.

“This was your safe fortress for a long time.” Pero murmurs, unable to see any of the Stones that had made up the walls of the cottage. Most likely it had been torn down to use for other things. “It was a nice cottage, better with a roof on it.” He teases.

“It’s useless for me to argue that I would have thatched it myself eventually, isn’t it?” You roll your eyes at him to make him laugh and reach for the wine bottle and corkscrew that you bought while you were out. “You kept me warm and safe that winter, amor. And I will always be grateful.”

"It was the most comfortable I had ever been." Pero admits, having taken pride in making sure there was a warm fire in the hearth and meat in your pot. It had felt like the first home he had since leaving his father's.

“And now that honor will go to our farmhouse after it’s built.” There is no need for glasses, the two of you can easily share a bottle of wine without having to be dainty. The box containing your tartines sits open beside the pastry box containing madeleines and macarons, with the baguette and cheese waiting to be devoured just beyond that. A veritable feast.

“The cheese maker’s shop being a what did you call it? A delicatessen? That was ironic.” Pero had groaned happily at the variety of cheeses available now and there are a lot of them in your picnic.

“It was exciting,” you contend, knowing that the cured meats in the cases and windows along with the dozens of varieties of cheese will be calling you back before the week is up. You’ll end up shipping a crate of things home, you can feel it in your bones. “Dig in, love. No reason to wait when it’s just the two of us out here.” A few passersby have been out, some of them with dogs, but no one has bothered you. They apparently know tourists when they see them.

“Remember that first day Briac brought all the supplies to your door? I thought your eyes were going to pop out of your head. They were so wide.” Pero chuckles as he pulls out the pocketknife you gave him to start slicing the cheeses.

“I had no idea you would spend so much on supplies!” Laughing with him, you reach for a piece of tartine and hum at the spicy scent of the mustard holding all the toppings on the fresh, crusty bread. “I was used to saving every single coin I could and trading as much as possible. It was like Christmas come early to me.”

“I was not going all winter without cheese and ale.” Pero hands you a slice of cabrales and takes another for himself. “I love cheese.”

“Almost as much as you love me.” You can’t resist teasing him, batting your eyelashes dramatically so he doesn’t pout about having to choose.

“Almost.” He huffs, popping the cheese into his mouth with a grin and then letting out a filthy moan. It’s creamy and slightly funky and he’s already cutting another piece off of the large wedge.

“That good?” As soon as you ask the question you pop the piece he handed into your own mouth and have a nearly identical reaction that sends you both into a fit of laughter. “Holy shit that’s good.”

“It’s that good.” There’s is a leer in his grin as he leans closer, waggling his brows slightly.

“Are you implying that this cheese is as good as fucking me?” You raise your eyebrows at him imperiously, trying not to snort or giggle at the little game. It is very good cheese, after all.

“This cheese is almost as good as fucking you.” Pero shuffles closer, smirking as he breaks off another bite of the cheese and pops it into his mouth. “But I must compare quickly.”

“Amor…” That combination of predatory gaze and a knowing smirk usually only means one thing, and if you weren’t literally out in the open you would be all for it. “We would be seen.”

Pero scoffs, not caring if he were seen making love to his soulmate - his wife. “We are behind the tree.” He argues, cutting his eyes over. “We will not be seen if you just lay against the trunk.”

“If we’re seen we could be arrested.” The argument isn’t exactly stalwart, not when you’re leaning into him and a mere fraction of an inch away from kissing him.

“Who cares?” Pero has been in a stockade more times than he can count, was chained to a wall in China. A modern slap on the wrist means nothing to him. “You do not want me inside you where we use to fuck so many years ago?” He asks, lifting a brow. “You could ride my cock, your dress would cover us from being seen.”

It’s strangely sentimental at the same time that it is breathtakingly arousing, and you bite your lip hard while considering the pros and cons. When the pros - i.e. sex with Pero - inevitably win out, you nod slightly and push in to capture his lips in a kiss. This might actually outdo the time you wrapped your legs around his waist and let the ocean waves help you ride him one night when the beach was empty.

The growl Pero lets out is feral. Twisting his body and dragging you into his lap so that you are blocked by the tree and his back so that none will see you. He doesn’t mind public sex, his cock is hard and he has every intention of sinking into you, but he is protective of you being on display to others.

“Shhhh.” It’s barely a chastisement as you squirm in his lap and bite back a needy gasp. “We have to be quiet, amor.”

“They will think it an animal and stay away.” Pero huffs, pushing his hands up under your skirt to fumble with his jeans. In this instance, he wishes he were wearing his easier to access breeches, although he’s grateful you are wearing a skirt.

It really is a useless endeavor to wear underwear around Pero, but when his fingers slip inside the slick fabric and tug your panties to the side, you tell yourself it’s your honeymoon and you’re not only allowed to be horny – it’s expected. Raising yourself up just a little is all you need for Pero to shift beneath you, and you bite down on your lip hard to keep from moaning as you sink down on his length.

There is magic in the way your body takes him that is it’s own web of power. Sucking the breath from his lungs and clouding his mind with you, pushing everything else aside. He pulses and twitches in the snug warmth of your walls, hands gripping your hips harshly. “Fuck.” He hisses quietly, already breathing heavily.

“Goddamn.” You hiss in agreement, starting out with just making small circles in his lap. There is barely any rise and fall to your hips yet, but partly because of Pero’s iron grip on that part of your body while he twitches eagerly inside you.

“You- mierda, you feel like heaven.” Pero praises, ducking his head and starting to kiss along your neck and across your collarbone. Ever since he thought of returning here he imagined you like this again, right here. The cottage fully reconstructed in his mind as you grind down on him.

“S-such a bad — fuck — fucking influence.” Careful to keep your lips tight by his ear, just only need to whisper the words for him to hear them. Your hips swivel and rock, taking him as deep as you can and giving you a surge of pleasure every time your walls pulse around him.

He knows his fingers dig into your skin through the fabric, you will have tender spots on your skin that will be loving reminders. The first time he had done that, he had been upset to hurt you, but you like it and Pero groans in agreement. “You and your -your cunt are all that matter right- right now.” He chokes out, trying to roll his hips up.

Kissing him is going to be the only way to keep yourself quiet, and you cling to him in the shadow of the enormous hazelnut tree. The whole rest of the world has dissolved from your mind and it’s only you and Pero - just two soulmates moving together in secluded pleasure. Nothing else exists.

Pero grunts into your mouth, absorbing your whines with pleasure. His hips push up and he tenses when you tighten around him. Loving how uninhibited you are right now, even though the two of you are completely covered.

It’s all about small, subtle movements right now. There is nothing in the world that could stop you at this point, as you rock closer and closer to the point of no return. Your legs tense on either side of him, gripping his thighs with your knees and holding on as tight as you possibly can even as your fingers dig into his shoulders while you try desperately not to cry out.

“Good girl.” He growls into your ear, hand splayed wide across your back and holding you close. “Mi esposa es tan buena para mí.” My wife is so good to me.

“Mi esposo es increible.” My husband is incredible. The shuddering tension in the depth of your belly is as familiar as breathing with Pero is your life, and you chase it with your cunt bearing down in his cock as tightly as a glove.

He can feel that you are close, starting to quicken his pace under you. “Cum for me.” Growling quietly, he presses his lips to yours to muffle the cry he knows is coming.

You hardly need the extra encouragement, but you whimper in agreement and nods eagerly as you pick up the pace just that much more. Discreet as you’re trying to be, you’re certain that anyone who saw you would recognize your movements - but frankly you’re so close to your peak that you don’t even care. Tighter and tighter, the coil in your belly snaps with one particularly well-placed thrust from Pero, sending you over the edge as your forehead drops to his shoulder so you can bite your lip and grip his shoulders as solidly as you need to keep quiet while you come apart on top of him.

His pleasure rumbles through him, like an avalanche as it sweeps over his body. Only allowing him to give into the need once your body bows and arches in pleasure. Curling around his spine and making him shudder, Pero pumps himself deep with a low groan of your name.

Gasping for breath includes a giggle, and you raise your head to press a kiss to Pero’s lips as your body against his. “Te amo, mi corazón. Eres el sol in mi cielo.” I love you, my heart. You are the sun in my sky.

He smirks, reaching up and cupping your cheeks. “Eres la bruja que me ha robado el corazón.” You are the witch who has stolen my heart. Pero teases and kisses the tip of your nose. “And I do not wish to have it back.”

______

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